A viewport gazed out into space, showing the battle. The Rattlers were hammering the human starships, tearing through their shields, then their hulls. The Exodus Fleet was falling apart.
Rowan took in the surroundings in seconds. Then she returned her gaze to the pale queen.
"What are you?" Rowan whispered.
But Xerka only smiled mysteriously. And her guards swarmed.
There were six armored basilisks. Their scales were crimson. Their armor was black. Their fangs were long and gleaming. The creatures lunged.
Bay and Rowan opened fire.
At this range, their bullets tore through armor and scales. Several basilisks fell. But the rest survived the assault, leaped, and slammed into them.
Rowan fell down hard. Her back hit the tiles. A serpent reared above her, bellowed, then leaned in to bite.
She fired Lullaby. She put a hole through its head, splattering blood and brains.
Another basilisk grabbed her leg and bit down hard.
Rowan screamed, her flesh tearing.
She shoved off the dead basilisk and fired again, but her bullets hit at the wrong angle, glancing off the new enemy's armor. The alien tightened its jaws around her leg, ripping more muscle, and her blood poured. Rowan screamed again.
Nearby, Bay was battling two basilisks. One had wrapped him in a crushing embrace. He could not fire his rifle, and he let out a hoarse cry, struggling for air.
Rowan pulled her trigger, but Lullaby was empty. The serpent finally released her leg and slithered up her torso, cackling, licking her.
"Sweet prey," the beast hissed. "I want you alive when I digest you. I will enjoy your squirming."
Rowan pawed for another magazine.
The basilisk grabbed her with its claws, hoisted her up, and closed its massive jaws around her head and shoulders.
The beast began to swallow, pulling Rowan deep into a dark, sticky gullet. Digestive acids bubbled below. Her legs dangled, kicking.
Her torso inside the alien, Rowan slammed home her new magazine—and fired.
She tore through the esophagus.
The creature gagged, vomiting her out onto the floor.
Rowan fired again and again, knocking the beast down dead. She rose to her feet, dripping saliva, and turned toward Bay. He had slain all but one of his foes. The remaining basilisk was crushing him. Only Bay's head emerged from the bundle, turning blue.
The basilisk holding him looked at Rowan, sneering.
She fired twice, hitting both its eyes, and the basilisk unfurled. Bay slumped to the floor, breathing raggedly.
Rowan looked around at the devastation. The basilisk guards were all down, torn apart, bleeding. One was still twitching. Rowan tightened her jaw and fired, ripping off its head.
Bay rose to his feet. Rowan helped him stand. Her Harmonians flowed across her leg, healing her wound. Some flowed from her into Bay, healing him too, then came back to her. The pair stood together and looked back at Xerka.
The queen studied them. She licked her lips and smiled.
"Very good, my pets," Xerka hissed. "Such feisty prey!"
Rowan stood over the corpses of the basilisk guards. She spat and stared back at Xerka.
"Who are you?" Rowan repeated. "Why are you part human?"
Xerka smiled—a cruel smile filled with fangs. A predator's smile.
"I am your parents," she hissed, slithering closer.
Rowan's hands shook around her gun. She kept it pointed at the creature.
"Stop lying!" Rowan said. "And stay still!"
But Xerka moved closer still, scales chinking. She licked her teeth.
"Oh, but it's true, little one," Xerka said. "You see, once I was very much like my guards. A mere serpent. Just a serpent like the billions of them. But I had a special gift inside me. The ability to absorb the DNA of my prey. To suck their blood, flesh, and essence. To weave their very core into my own cells. To be a true huntress, one must understand her prey. To become her prey. So I became human. I absorbed them. Began to understand them. Think like them. Even look like them. All so I could hunt them. And hunt you, Rowan."
Bay stepped forward, rifle raised. "Well, bitch, right now we're the mucking hunters. Eat lead."
He fired. But the bullets shattered against Xerka's scales. A few bullets pierced the humanoid portion of Xerka's body, but the queen seemed barely to feel the wounds. She swayed even closer, smiling wickedly. Her claws dripped blood.
"What did you mean about my parents?" Rowan demanded. Her voice shook.
Because Rowan saw something there. Something in that pale face. Something impossible. Something familiar. Something that made her body tremble.
Xerka undulated toward Rowan, reached up, and stroked her cheek.
"Ah, your face … So fair. So pure. Yes, Rowan. I heard tales of you, the heroine of Earth. The girl who slew the scorpion emperor. I knew that I had to hunt you. To break you. To understand you. So I flew to a world called Harmonia. The world where your parents died. I dug in the caves until I found their bones." Xerka's eyes widened, two pools of blood. "I broke those bones into powder, and I digested them, absorbed them, wove their DNA with my own. Until I became like them. Like your parents. Like you. You are my daughter, Rowan."
And finally Rowan understood.
She recognized Xerka's face.
It was her own.
Horror filled Rowan, spinning her head, bursting from her in tears and a scream.
She aimed Lullaby at Xerka's face and emptied a magazine at point-blank range.
Her bullets slammed into Xerka's teeth, her eyes, piercing her sockets, shattering her skull. Rowan kept firing until her gun clicked, empty.
She lowered the weapon, sobbing and gasping. Xerka still stood before her, but the bullets had finally done their job. The queen's head was torn open, the brain exposed, the face ravaged.
Rowan stared, panting, waiting for the queen to fall.
But Xerka remained upright, balanced on her serpentine body.
Her ravaged head began to glow.
Tiny blue beings, smaller than grains of sand, flowed across her wounds. Mending. Healing. Reforming her head.
Rowan's heart sank. She let out something halfway between gasp and sob.
"Harmonians," she whispered. "You have Harmonians inside you."
Of course she did. She had taken more than bones from Harmonia.
Xerka's wounds closed, her face perfectly healed. Ghostly white. The eyes red. But there was no mistaking it: a face so much like Rowan's.
"Now you will die …" Xerka whispered. "And you will become a part of me."
Bay and Rowan fired again, but it was useless. With a flick of her tail, Xerka knocked Bay's rifle from his hands. With her claws, she grabbed Lullaby and tore it free. The basilisk queen discarded both weapons—then pounced.
They tried to fight her.
Rowan kicked, punched, screamed. Bay roared and pounded with his fists. But Xerka was so strong. Her claws ripped into them, digging deep into the flesh. Her body wrapped them both, smooth and scaly.
"Should I eat you alive or dead?" Xerka said, tongue flicking. "Still or squirming?"
Her serpentine body formed another loop, squeezing Bay and Rowan against each other, face to face. Their chests pressed together. Both wriggled, struggling to free themselves, but their limbs were pinned to their sides. They gasped for air, but their lungs could barely expand.
"Ah, the two lovers in a last embrace." Xerka cackled. "Kiss, apes! Kiss for the last time."
She tightened further. Bay and Rowan gasped, unable to even scream. Their chests pressed together so tightly Rowan worried their ribs would snap. Tears on her cheeks, Rowan looked into Bay's eyes.
"I love you," she mouthed, unable to sound out the words.
"I love you, Rowan," he said, eyes filled with pain.
"Goodbye, daughter," Xerka cooed. She stroked Rowan's hair, a gesture almost loving … then tightened again.
Rowan ga
ve a last gasp, then breathed no more.
She began to feel lightheaded. Floaters danced before her eyes. She knew that within seconds, she would die. But she would die in Bay's embrace. She could think of no better way to go.
She tilted her head back and gazed through the viewport. She could see the Rattlers firing on her ships. Destroying Operation Exodus. And she knew they would soon destroy the Porter too, killing the hundred thousand aboard.
I'm sorry, Rowan thought. I'm sorry I failed you.
Shadows spread. Her vision was fading.
And she saw a light.
A soft, beautiful light. A glowing tunnel.
Is this the passageway to the afterlife? Rowan thought.
But a figure stepped through the light—and entered the bridge of the Ophidia.
A human figure, wreathed in luminescence.
Xerka screamed and unwound her body. Bay and Rowan fell to their knees, gasping for air.
The figure stepped closer, robes billowing, eyes glowing.
"Coral," Rowan whispered.
The portal closed behind the weaver. Coral floated forward, her heels in the air, her toes just grazing the floor. Every tattoo on her body glowed. She seemed woven of aether.
Xerka reeled toward the weaver, shrieking. "Leave this place, demon!"
Coral smiled thinly. "I am no demon. I am human."
She held out her palms, and bolts of aether flew. They slammed into Xerka, knocking her back.
The basilisk queen screamed. She lunged at Coral. Another blast of energy shoved the creature back.
Rowan and Bay rose to their feet. They reloaded their weapons and opened fire. The bolts of aether and bullets kept hammering Xerka. Whenever the queen tried to charge, the barrage shoved her backward.
Yet Xerka was still alive. Whenever the weapons hurt her, the Harmonians healed her.
"Coral!" Rowan shouted. "Open one more portal!"
The weaver looked at her through the effulgence. "I will not flee."
"Open a portal to space!" Rowan cried. "You have to do this!"
Coral seemed to understand. She took a deep breath. Her barrage of aether bolts died.
Xerka screamed and pounced.
Coral raised her arms, and a new portal materialized—a portal leading outside the ship. To open space.
The air began fleeing the bridge, shrieking and churning. Blood and bullet casings rose from the floor, sucked into the maelstrom, draining outside.
"Die, you bitch," Rowan said—and hurled herself toward Xerka.
With all her strength, Rowan barreled into the basilisk queen and shoved her toward the portal.
Xerka shrieked.
The queen tried to resist. Rowan was not particularly strong. But with the vacuum tugging them all, it was enough.
Flailing, Xerka tumbled through the portal—and out into open space.
From the other side, the queen reached out—and grabbed Rowan's leg.
Rowan screamed.
The basilisk queen yanked her out into space.
Air roared across them, draining from the Ophidia. Xerka clung to Rowan's leg, digging her claws, grinning. She stared at Rowan, face twisted in a lurid grin.
My own face, Rowan thought.
She fired Lullaby and hit Xerka in the forehead.
The queen cried out and released her. The beast tumbled into the darkness.
A mechanical hand reached through the portal. Bay's hand! It grabbed Rowan and pulled her back into the Ophidia.
Rowan fell to her knees on the deck, and the portal vanished.
Silence fell. Shadows filled the bridge.
Trembling, Rowan pushed herself to her feet. She looked around. Coral had fallen, and Bay knelt by her, cradling her in his arms. The weaver's glow was gone.
The basilisk guards all lay dead, and Xerka was gone, but more basilisks were shrieking deep in the ship. Rowan ran toward the bridge doors, slammed them shut, then shot out the locking panel.
"We have about a minute to get out of here before a thousand basilisks stream onto this bridge," she said.
She looked at Coral. The weaver was lying in Bay's arms, so thin. She looked like a patient dying of cancer. Her hair was beginning to fall out, and her eyes were sunken into a gaunt skull. But she nodded, unable to even speak.
"Give me one minute," Rowan said. "Then open the portal."
"Row, we have to—" Bay began.
"A minute!" she said.
Rowan raced toward the dreadnought's control panels. She had a basic understanding of basilisk systems. Leona had hijacked several basilisk starfighters, and Rowan had spent long hours learning their technology. Rowan typed furiously, accessing the Ophilia's engines, creating a recursive loop. She nodded.
"This'll do," she said. "The engines are overheating. In four minutes, they'll reach critical mass—and this entire dreadnought is gonna blow."
Both Bay and Rowan both turned toward Coral.
"Coral?" Bay said softly, holding her in his arms.
"I … I'll try," the weaver whispered.
Her tattoos glowed, but only faintly. The ink was melting, pouring down her skin in silvery streams. For a long time she focused, but nothing happened.
Finally—a portal began to flicker, but vanished within an instant.
"Coral!" Bay said, squeezing her hand.
"We've only got three minutes left!" Rowan said.
The door shook. The basilisks were clawing at it. Dents appeared in the metal. The creatures were howling.
Coral tried again. She screwed her eyes shut. A flicker of aether glimmered around her fingertips. A wisp appeared in the air, then dispersed like smoke.
"Two more minutes before the Ophidia blows!" Rowan cried.
"Can't you reverse it?" Bay shouted, his voice nearly drowning under the screeching basilisks outside.
"It's too late!" Rowan said. "The engines are already in a feedback loop, overheating like nuts. Coral, you gotta try. Come on, girl! You can do this!" She gripped Coral's hand. "I'm with you, sister. I'm here."
Coral smiled at her, but her smile was so weak, her eyes glassy.
Her glow was fading.
The door burst open.
The basilisks stormed onto the bridge—dozens of them.
Bay and Rowan opened fire. Their bullets tore through the creatures. Basilisks fell dead, but more crawled over the corpses, storming toward them.
One more minute.
The basilisks reached them. The claws lashed. A tail whipped Rowan and Bay. They fell, guns firing. The creatures surrounded them. More kept pouring onto the bridge. Hundreds.
Alarms blared.
Five more seconds to destruction.
Four.
Three.
Coral gasped, and light flooded her.
A portal opened. Small. Barely large enough to squeeze through.
Rowan fired her last round.
"Get in!" she cried, shoving Bay and Coral.
The two fell through the portal. An instant later, Rowan followed.
The portal vanished.
The three humans landed back aboard the Byzantium.
Rowan rose, shaking.
A colossal blast lit up space. A hundred kilometers away, the Ophidia exploded like a star gone nova.
Light and heat and debris flew across the battle, taking out dozens of nearby Rattlers. The Byzantium flipped over, her shields cracking under the barrage. Rowan fell to her knees and covered her head as radiation bathed the frigate.
And then—it was over.
The light faded.
Where the Ophidia had been, a basilisk dreadnought the size of Central Park, now only a cloud of debris remained. Most of the Rattlers around it had vanished in the explosion. The surviving Rattlers, seeing their flagship gone, turned to flee.
The HSS Porter, and its hundred thousand refugees, floated nearby without a scratch.
Rowan stared outside, seeking her.
Where are you, Xerka?
But s
he saw no corpse. Had Xerka perished in the vacuum? In the explosion?
Or are you still alive out there, Xerka? Somewhere aboard one of your ships? Rowan took a deep breath. I won't rest until I know you're dead.
She turned away from the viewport. Coral was lying on the deck. Bay was kneeling by her, holding her hand.
Rowan knelt too.
"Coral?" she whispered.
The weaver looked up at her. "Did we save them?" she whispered. "The refugees in the Porter?"
Rowan nodded, tears falling. "You saved them, Coral. You did it."
Coral too shed tears. "I'm sorry, Rowan."
"For what?" Rowan stroked her wispy white hair.
"I can't bring you back home," Coral said. "I wanted to bring the Porter past the blockade. To bring everyone back to Earth. But … I'm so tired."
"You'll rest," Rowan said. "I'll make you lots of soup. We'll nurse you back to health, Coral."
But the weaver's tears still flowed. "I told you before, Rowan. I've been using too much aether. Aboard Xerka's ship, the ancients would give me no more. I had to take the light from deep inside me. The light of my soul. Of my heart. I'm so sorry. I wanted to teach you, Rowan. To teach you to become a weaver too."
Rowan sobbed. "You will! You'll be fine, Coral! The battle is over. You'll be good again."
"Coral," Bay said, wrapping her in his arms. "Stay with us."
Coral smiled at them. They each held one of her hands. And suddenly Coral no longer looked so weary, so sick. She was beautiful and whole again. At peace.
"I love you, Bay," she whispered. "I love you, Rowan. I love Earth, and I'm so fortunate that I got to walk on her soil. That I got to see her blue sky. I have to leave now. To take my final journey. But I'll always remember you. Everything will be all right. It is good to die for Earth."
Her eyes gazed upward, as if seeing Earth's sky again.
Her breath died.
Her heart beat no more.
Bay and Rowan held their friend, heads lowered, tears falling.
"Goodbye, Coral Amber," Rowan whispered. "You are now one with the light."
Rowan walked toward a porthole, and she gazed outside at the stars. The remains of her fleet gathered around her. She looked toward Sol. From here, the sun was just one more star in the sky. Earth was invisible, and Rowan did not know if she'd ever see her homeworld again.
The War for Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 4) Page 25
