He's no longer a cub, Rowan thought. He's a lion.
"Were you visiting Coral in the attic?" Bay asked.
Rowan nodded. "Yep. Girl talk. We braided our each other's hair, gossiped about boys, and had a pillow fight in our underwear." She slapped Bay's head. "Forget where I was! What's going on?"
He blinked. "I want to hear more about that pillow fight."
Rowan groaned. "Bay!"
He shook his head wildly, as if shaking off his thoughts. He clicked a few buttons, pulling up an image on his monitor.
"Take a look." He tapped the monitor. "It's called the HSS Porter. It's a starship. A starship only a few AUs away. A human starship."
Rowan's eyes widened. "My God. It's huge. How big is that thing?"
"That's what she said."
Rowan punched him. "Seriously, Bay."
He winced and rubbed his arm. "Ouch! Fine. No jokes. If my readings are correct, the Porter is a kilometer long."
"Bloody hell!" Rowan rubbed her eyes. "I've never seen a ship that large. It's like a floating city."
Bay nodded. "She's a big one. According to Wikipedia Galactica, Porter used to be a cruise ship, operated by the Altairian civilization. You know, those tall green humanoids?"
Rowan nodded. "Yep, we'd get some at Paradise Lost. Nice fellows, mostly. Didn't cause trouble. One even bought me a meal once."
"Yeah, they're mostly harmless," Bay said. "They lost most of their fleet in the war, the poor bastards. Their cruise ship was hulked sometime between the battles. Took a lot of damage, was too costly to repair. But humans found her and patched her up. Row, the Porter sent us a message a few minute ago. I'll play it for you."
He tapped a few buttons. A grainy video began to play on the monitor. A gray-haired woman, her face deeply lined but her shoulders still squared, faced the camera. Behind her huddled a crowd of humans wrapped in blankets.
"Earth! I pray to Ra that you hear this message. I am Mary Sage, captain of the HSS Porter. I ferry human refugees, most survivors of the gulocks. I have over a hundred thousand humans in my ship. Many are ill. Many are starving. Many have been traveling for years, trying to find their way home. We are only a few days away from Earth now, but I fear we will not make it." The elderly woman took a deep, shaky breath. "A few hours ago, we received a message from Empress Xerka. She called on us to turn back—or face destruction. We are continuing on our journey to Earth, hoping that you will aid us. We have nowhere else. Please, Earth! If you hear this message, send help. Bring us home."
The message ended.
Rowan stared at the blank monitor, eyes wide.
"A hundred thousand refugees," she breathed. "This will be our biggest rescue operation yet." She clutched Bay's arm. "Bay! There are just under half a million humans on Earth now. If we can bring these people home, raise our numbers above half a million—that will make a powerful case for the council when it votes."
"And if we fail," Bay said grimly, "everyone on that ship dies."
"If we lose this war, every human in the galaxy will die," Rowan said. "So we cannot fail! How far away are we from the Porter?"
"We can be there in a few hours, if we fly at top speed," Bay said.
Rowan stared at the monitors. Icy claws grabbed her chest.
"The problem is," she said, "the basilisks will be flying at top speed too."
She tapped a few buttons, zooming out. The Byzantium's sensors were picking them up now. A hundred starships heading toward the Porter. Basilisk starships.
Some were Copperheads—the small starfighters of the enemy. Others were Rattlers—the larger warships, each the size of a human frigate. And one …
"The one at the lead." Bay paled. "These readings can't be right."
They both stared at the monitor. Rowan rubbed her eyes.
A colossal starship was leading the basilisk fleet. It was even larger than the gargantuan Porter. The sensors were picking up its signature now, displaying its stats.
"Impossible," Rowan said. "They don't build ships this big. The damn thing is the size of Central Park. A ship this size shouldn't even exist."
The monitor displayed its name: The Ophidia.
Rowan shuddered. She had heard of this dreadnought. Here was the flagship of the basilisk empire.
Queen Xerka's personal starship.
"She's there," Rowan whispered, and her eyes stung. "Queen Xerka. She's aboard that ship. I can feel it."
"Nonsense," Bay said, but his voice was tense. "Xerka will be back on Sskarsses, her homeworld."
Rowan shook her head. "No. She came here to oversee the slaughter. She won't take prisoners this time, Bay." She looked at him. "She's flying to the Porter to kill them all."
Bay's face hardened. "And we're going to stop her."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Sixty human starships flew through the darkness.
They were all that remained of the Exodus Fleet.
Most were not warships. Most were built to haul refugees, not fight. Even the warships among them had once been tankers and freighters, and they were aging, dented, scarred by too many battles.
They were the only hope in the darkness.
They flew to war.
They flew toward the Ophidia. The largest warship humanity had ever encountered. The flagship of Xerka herself.
Bay stood at the helm of the Byzantium, staring ahead into the darkness. Any moment now, he would see the enemy fleet with the naked eye.
He spoke the words of his father, of the Heirs of Earth. "Wherever humans are in danger, we will be there."
Yet this was no longer the ISS Byzantium, an Inheritor starship. The Heirs of Earth were no more.
This was now the HDFS Byzantium. A ship of the Human Defense Force. Not a ship of exile but a ship of Earth.
Bay raised his chin.
The galaxy was burning. War was flaring. But Earth had an army. Earth was defended. And that made Bay proud.
He spoke into his comm, broadcasting his words to the fleet.
"All warriors of the Exodus Fleet. This is Major Bay Ben-Ari aboard the HDFS Byzantium. We're moments away from the enemy. We're outnumbered. We're outgunned. We're far from any help, days away from the rest of Earth's fleet. But we're going to win this battle. The enemy is strong. He'll fight well. But we're going to plow through the sons of bitches. We're gonna hit those bastards so hard they'll wish they never hatched. We're gonna grab those snakes by the balls and swing them around our heads like rattles. This will be our great battle. This will be a battle against Xerka herself. And years from now, as you're playing with your grandkids on Earth, they'll ask you: What did you do in the war? And you'll tell them: I fought in Operation Exodus! I fought with that crazy bastard Bay Ben-Ari, the Young Lion himself, and we killed that bitch Queen Xerka and saved the Earth. Onward, warriors of humanity. To victory!"
He ended the transmission and took a deep breath.
Rowan nodded at him. "Nice speech. Not quite as elegant as the ones your dad delivers. But effective."
Bay nodded. "I've been reading my Patton."
He could see it now.
A dot of light off his starboard bow. The Porter—and aboard her the hundred thousand.
A moment later, lights appeared off the port bow. A hundred of them, moving fast. Moving closer.
The enemy fleet.
For a moment, terror overwhelmed Bay.
His heart pounded. Cold sweat drenched him. His knees shook.
I need my dad here, he thought. I can't do this alone. I need the Old Lion.
But then he inhaled deeply. He took control of his body and emotions. He was no longer that lost boy who wandered from gambling pit to brothel. He was Bay Ben-Ari, an officer, a commander of a fleet. And he was ready for this.
"Giddy up," Bay whispered.
He turned the Byzantium toward the enemy ships. His fleet turned with him.
They charged.
The enemy fleet did not turn to meet them.
Ins
tead, Xerka was still leading her ships toward the Porter.
Bay gritted his teeth, diverting more power to the engines.
But the basilisks were faster. They were hurtling toward the Porter. They were going to reach it first.
"Bay!" Rowan cried. "They're—"
"I know, I know!" he said, leaning on the throttle.
He stared, chest tight. Xerka was still ignoring him. In frustration, Bay fired his cannons, knowing they were out of range, but desperate to draw Xerka's attention.
Her Rattlers kept flying toward the Porter.
According to the computers, Xerka would reach the refugee ship several minutes before Bay.
A burst of radiation washed over the Byzantium, and every monitor on the bridge turned on, revealing the same image.
Bay gasped. Rowan cursed softly.
An alien was staring at them. A creature half basilisk, half woman.
From the waist up, she was a beautiful woman, her breasts bare, her face young, her skin purest white. Her eyes were deep red, and her white hair cascaded. But her hips morphed into the body of a serpent, coiling and covered with glimmering white scales like mother of pearl. She sat on a throne of skulls. Human corpses hung behind her on chains, partially devoured.
"Hello, apes," she hissed, and a forked tongue flicked between her full red lips. "I am Xerka. Watch as I destroy the Porter and slaughter every ape aboard. Enjoy the show—before I slaughter you too."
The video feed ended.
"Bay, she'll be within range of the Porter in two minutes!" Rowan cried from the nav station.
And Bay knew they were not going to make it.
That they would fail.
Coral wandered onto the bridge. The weaver was wrapped in her blanket, and she still held the thermos of soup. She placed the broth down and removed the blanket, revealing white robes embroidered with runes. Tattoos began to glow on her body.
"Coral, you need to rest!" Rowan said.
But the weaver ignored her. She stepped closer to the viewport, closed her eyes, and held out her hands.
In the distance, Xerka's warship opened fire. It did not fire laser beams like the Rattlers. Instead, it unleashed a furious bolt of crackling energy. The missile flew toward the Porter at terrifying speed. The refugee ship was yawing, trying to flee. But Bay knew it was too slow.
Coral's hands shone, and the weaver gasped.
It appeared in space before them, only seconds away—a portal.
Bay could see the other end—just ahead of the Porter.
He understood.
He narrowed his eyes, and he flew the Byzantium through.
The frigate reemerged into space ahead of the Porter.
The crackling ball of energy was hurtling toward them.
"Row!" Bay shouted.
"I see it!" Rowan cried, swiveling the gun turret.
She opened fire.
Her shells flew out—and slammed into the spinning projectile.
The basilisk missile exploded in space.
The explosion was massive. Light flared like a supernova. Radiation washed over the Byzantium. The ship tilted, nearly careened out of control.
"Die, you bitch," Bay said, turning the Byzantium's cannons toward Xerka's dreadnought.
Rowan opened fire again.
Coral collapsed. The portal vanished before another human ship could fly through.
The Byzantium was alone.
Her shells hammered Xerka's warship.
Explosions bloomed across the Ophidia.
But the dreadnought kept charging. Bay got a clear look at it now. It was shaped like a snake's head, covered in armored scales. Its portholes blazed like red eyes, and its cannons jutted forth like fangs. It was a beast that could devour worlds.
The entire Byzantium was barely larger than one of its cannons. They were like a mouse facing a cobra. And behind that dreadnought flew its companions: a hundred Rattlers, great machines of war, all storming toward the Byzantium.
Every instinct in Bay screamed to turn, to flee, to beg.
But he kept the Byzantium steady.
He faced the oncoming giant.
Behind him, the Porter—a large ship, but one without any weapons—was pulling back to a safe distance. It was only the Byzantium who stood between those refugees and Xerka's wrath.
And so Bay stood his ground.
He broadcast a message.
"You will not kill them, Xerka," he said. "You will not harm another human! I am Bay Ben-Ari, descended of the Golden Lioness, a son of Earth. You will not harm my people! I faced the scorpions in battle—and slew them. I will face and slay you too. We are humans! We are proud and strong! We fight for Earth!"
"For Earth!" Rowan cried at his side.
Bay shoved down the throttle—and charged toward the enemy fleet.
Rowan fired the guns.
And behind them, the rest of the human fleet finally caught up. Sixty warships, their engines roaring, their cannons firing. They stormed toward battle, and the cosmos shook.
The shells exploded against the enemy.
Heat and light filled space.
"For Earth!" they cried, a hundred voices rising together. "For Earth!"
More blasts hit the Ophidia. Shell after shell pounded the enemy. Several Rattlers exploded. A wall of fire rose through space.
But the Ophidia still flew, her shields dented. Most of her Rattlers still flew with her.
Now the basilisk fleet opened fire.
Lasers and missiles flew toward the Exodus Fleet.
"Defensive row!" Bay shouted.
His ships moved quickly, forming a line in space—the Byzantium in front, the others behind in single file. Most of the enemy projectiles missed them.
But some slammed into the Byzantium.
The shields trembled. The ship jolted. Several decks cracked open.
"Assault formation—fire!" Bay shouted.
His fleet expanded, now forming a wall in space—and they fired their guns. More explosions rocked the enemy.
"Firebirds—launch and flank!" he cried.
The starfighters emerged from the hangars and roared forth, flanking the enemy ships. The birds unleashed a fusillade of missiles, pounding the Rattlers. Humanity's fleet hammered the enemy from all sides.
But the Rattlers' shields were thick, their weapons devastating. Their missiles shattered the mirrors coating Earth's ships, making room for lasers to pierce the hulls. Human ships burned. A tanker exploded. Firebirds winked out.
As the battle raged, Coral still lay on the floor. The weaver had regained consciousness but was too weak to even rise. Bay ached to run to her, to revive her, but dared not abandon his post. He kept flying the Byzantium, dodging missiles and lasers, firing on the enemy.
Another human ship exploded.
Two more shattered.
"Bay, we can't beat them!" Rowan cried.
"We don't have a choice," Bay said.
"They're stronger, they outnumber us, and they're tearing us apart!" Rowan said.
Only a handful of Rattlers had been destroyed. The others were mercilessly pounding the humans. Above them all loomed the Ophidia, its shadow falling over the battle.
Xerka's ship.
Several Firebirds were trying to attack the Ophidia. But the dreadnought's cannons took them out. Frigates were shelling the massive basilisk ship, but her shields held, and her cannons destroyed all her in path.
"We have to take out the Ophidia!" Bay said. "If that dreadnought falls, their fleet collapses."
"Nothing can destroy that ship!" Rowan said. "None of our weapons can break through its shields."
"One weapon can," Bay muttered. "Brooklyn, you still there in the system?"
His old AI answered, displaying a message on a monitor. "Here, dude!"
"Take the wheel," Bay said.
He left his station, and he knelt by Coral. She looked at him with glassy eyes. Her eyes, once vibrant lavender, were now so pale they were nearly g
ray.
"Coral." Bay held her hand. "I need you to open one more portal. A small one. Just large enough for Rowan and me. A portal from here to the Ophidia's bridge."
Rowan turned her head toward them. "She can't! Small portals are harder than big ones. It'll kill her."
Bay kept his focus on Coral. He stared into the weaver's eyes, waiting.
Coral nodded.
"I understand," she whispered, voice so soft, fading away. "I'll do it. Help me up, Bay. Help me stand."
As the battle raged around them, warships firing and shattering and blazing, Bay helped Coral to her feet. She trembled in his arms, so thin.
Her tattoos glowed.
And suddenly Coral let out a scream—a tortured scream that tore at her throat, and blood dripped from her mouth.
Before them, shining on the bridge of the Byzantium, a portal opened.
They had no time to summon more soldiers, Bay knew. It was up to him and Rowan.
"Row," Bay said. "Come with me. Let's kill that bitch."
He leaped through the portal.
Cursing, Rowan followed.
The portal petered out behind them, vanishing into shadows.
Bay and Rowan tumbled down a flickering tunnel of light, then crashed into a dark chamber.
They banged their knees on a tiled floor.
They looked up, and Bay's heart lurched.
They were on the Ophidia's bridge. And he saw her there.
Xerka. Queen of Serpents.
Bay and Rowan screamed and fired their guns.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The bullets slammed into the Basilisk Queen and shattered, doing her no harm.
Xerka brushed off shards of lead, then smiled at Bay and Rowan.
"Hello, apes!" Her forked tongue flicked between her fangs. "Thank you for surrendering yourselves."
Rowan stared at the creature, disgust churning in her belly. She had seen horrors in space. The bonecrawlers in the ducts. The hydra in the depths. The scorpion emperor. Yet somehow this creature seemed worse than them all.
Xerka slithered forth, her human body balanced atop her basilisk tail. Yet even that human body was alien—the eyes blood-red, the mouth serpentine, the skin unnaturally pale.
The Ophidia's bridge was cavernous. Crimson columns rose from a floor of white tiles, supporting a vaulted ceiling. A throne of human skulls loomed. Fresh human corpses hung from chains like carcasses in slaughterhouses, blood still dripping. Several armored basilisks lurked in the shadows, hissing, scales clattering.
The War for Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 4) Page 24
