The War for Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 4)

by Daniel Arenson

The blobby Klurians. The Kalatians, a race of spinning metal balls. The stony Meduzians. The parasitic Weegles. No. No. Abstained. No.

  The furry Silvans, disks with many tails—they voted yes!

  The votes kept coming, faster now. More noes.

  The night went on.

  Finally there was another yes, but it seemed insignificant in the sea of no votes. This time no cheers rose from the camp.

  More noes came in.

  Dawn broke, and the voting finally ended.

  The Galactic Council had decided.

  Around Emet, everyone stared at the wooden board, silent. They had all known the outcome hours ago. Yet they stared. There it was before them.

  Seven alien species had voted yes—voted to grant Earth to humanity.

  Many species had abstained.

  One thousand, three hundred and twelve species had voted no.

  Some humans were fuming, cursing, vowing revenge. Many were weeping. Others stood in stunned silence.

  "We lost," Cindy whispered. The nurse turned toward Emet, eyes huge and haunted. "How could we have lost?"

  Mairead let out a howl. The young pilot smashed the wooden board, cursing and shouting. Then she spat, stormed into her Firebird, and roared up into the sky.

  Emet stood in the center of the camp. Everyone turned to look at him. Hundreds of eyes. And he knew that across Earth, half a million people were looking to him for guidance. That across the galaxy, millions more counted on him for wisdom.

  And Emet had never felt the burden so heavily.

  He had prepared for this eventuality. They all had. But now Emet felt paralyzed.

  Fear flooded him.

  He let it claim him—for only a moment.

  I faced the scorpions in battle, he thought. I faced death countless times. I will not back down now.

  He shoved the fear aside.

  "Hear me, people of Earth!" Emet said. He spoke to those around him, and he spoke though his comm to half a million souls on Earth. And he knew the basilisks above could hear too. "This is President Emet Ben-Ari. Two years ago, we defeated the scorpions, a race that sought to annihilate us. For two thousand years before them, we survived purge after purge. And through the fire, we made our way home! We resettled Earth! Today the galaxy showed that their hatred is still strong. That the lies about us still infect their minds. But we do not need their approval! We know in our hearts—Earth is our homeworld. We will not leave this world. We have nowhere else to go. Space holds nothing but brutality, hatred, and violence against us. It is here, on Earth, that we make our stand. We will not respect the Council's vote. I declare independence for Earth. I declare by our own authority: This is our world, a free world that belongs to humanity. We will remain on Earth, and we will defend it!"

  They all looked at him. Silent. He saw the devastation in their eyes.

  Cindy came to stand at his side. Then others joined him. More and more warriors. Friends. Fellow humans. And Emet understood the message.

  They were not only looking to him for leadership, not only standing behind him.

  They were standing with him.

  The sky began to rumble. The basilisk fleet was shifting formations.

  Emet spoke into his comm. "All human colonies—this is a red alert. All civilians—head into your bunkers. All soldiers—head to your battle stations. May the spirit of Earth bless us all."

  Across the colony, air raid sirens began to wail.

  The colonists ran.

  Emet waited outside until everyone was in the bunkers. He stared up at the sky. And he saw the fire spread.

  He leaped underground into shadow.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Leona stood in the Council in stunned silence.

  We lost.

  It seemed impossible.

  She blamed herself. She should have argued more convincingly. Should have somehow saved Melitar. Should have gotten here earlier, lobbied for more votes.

  Then fury filled her. Horrible, consuming rage at the aliens around her. The hateful creatures that filled this cruel galaxy.

  Then sadness. Nothing but sadness.

  Aliens roared and shouted and jeered across the Council Hall. The walls shook. The Peacekeepers tried in vain to keep order. Everyone was looking at the humans. Pointing. Some hurled their shoes, even their comms. The voices blended into a cacophony.

  Above the din, one voice rose, louder than the rest.

  Xerka's voice.

  The basilisk queen coiled up around a column, rising to a vantage point above the others. Her shriek rang out.

  "Kill the humans! Destroy humanity!" She spread out her arms. "Who will fly with me to Earth? Who will join me in wiping out the infestation?"

  Valik raised his arms, letting his robe's dark sleeves roll back. They revealed muscular arms filled with fire, and claws tipped his fingers.

  "I will fight at your side!" the Aelonian announced. "The Aelonian fleet will fight!"

  An Esporian, a man-sized mushroom, puffed a cloud of spores. A translator converted this fungal language into words. "We will fight!"

  Inside a tank of water, a scaly, elongated alien with a mouth full of fangs roared. "We will fight!"

  A furry alien howled—a canine the size of a rhinoceros, sprouting horns and spikes. "We will fight!"

  A gelatinous cube wriggled, its translucent body filled with half-digested victims. The blob's wobbling produced sound waves. "We will fight!"

  Other aliens cried out too, vowing to join Xerka.

  "We will fight together!" Xerka shouted. "A united coalition against the pests. To Earth! We fly to Earth! We fly to victory!"

  Leona turned toward the others. Tom. Ramses. Najila. They all stared at her, wordlessly accepting her leadership.

  "We have to get out of here," Leona said.

  Ramses nodded. "I have a starfighter. But it won't sit four. Even if we could squeeze in, we'll run out of oxygen and water pretty fast."

  "No choice," Leona said. "We'll use the Firebird and make it work. Come on, we run for it!"

  They sprinted through the assembly hall. Aliens pointed, shouted. A basilisk leaped toward them, and the humans skirted the snake. Peacekeepers raced onto the balcony, electric guns raised.

  "Stop them!" Xerka shrieked.

  A Peacekeeper fired. One electric bolt slammed into Leona's shoulder, and she yowled and clutched the wound. But she kept running. Another bolt hit Najila, and she fell. Ramses grabbed her, slung her over his shoulder, and kept running.

  The humans had no weapons; they had left them at the door. Leona wasn't sure they'd even make it to that door.

  A Peacekeeper came running toward them.

  Tom lunged at the alien cop, delivered a punch to his throat, and the Peacekeeper fell. Tom wrestled the alien's gun free, and then fired at the balcony. Peacekeepers tumbled down. But more raced down a hallway, firing their stun guns.

  The humans burst into the hallway and ran past the hateful murals. Three more Peacekeepers were waiting at the exit. Leona and Ramses leaped aside, seeking cover behind a column, while Tom knelt and fired. The silver-haired soldier took a blow to the chest, but his armored spacesuit kept him alive. Tom kept firing, hitting the Peacekeepers one by one. They all fell.

  They ran toward the exit. Leona saw Arondight on a pile of weapons. She grabbed her beloved rifle, but the Peacekeepers had discarded her ammo. She kept running, her rifle useless in her hands.

  The humans raced outside. The sea was storming, and waves smashed against the island, spraying them with salty mist. Many shuttles were hovering above or parked on the beach. Leona spotted the Firebird. It looked like it had flown through hell and back, and it only had one seat. But right now it would be enough save their lives.

  They were running toward it when a Peacekeeper jet swooped and fired its guns.

  The Firebird exploded.

  Tom knelt at once. Eyes narrowed, he fired at the sky. He hit the Peacecar, and its engine blazed. The vessel crashed into
the sea, leaving a trail of smoke.

  The humans approached the Firebird—or what was left of it. Nothing but mangled metal.

  They stood back to back. Leona, holding her rifle like a club. Tom, holding the stolen Peacekeeper gun. Ramses was weaponless, Najila in his arms.

  Xerka emerged from the Galactic Hall.

  She undulated down the beach, grinning. Several basilisks accompanied her, fangs bared. Many other aliens were joining them—a mob with murder in their eyes.

  Tom fired. Again. Again. But the bolts glanced off Xerka's scales. He kept firing until his gun was out of charge. The humans retreated until their heels hit the water.

  They were trapped.

  Leona stared from side to side. And there, she saw it—several hundred meters away. A geode-ship.

  At first glance, it looked like an asteroid fallen onto the beach. It was a round boulder, as large as a house. But from the right angle, Leona could see the crystals inside. Lavender crystals the size of men. Azoth crystals.

  This was no mere geode. It was a starship. A Menorian starship.

  "Run!" Leona shouted.

  She sprinted toward the geode-ship. The others followed. As they approached, a hatch opened on the stony vessel. A purple octopus emerged, tentacles beckoning .

  "Aurora!" Leona cried.

  The octopus changed from purple to deep red, then golden spots streaked across her. Leona didn't need the translator.

  "Hurry!" Aurora was saying.

  They were only a hundred meters from the ship when Xerka reached them.

  The basilisk queen leaped toward Leona, jaws wide open, claws extended.

  Leona spun toward her, arms raised, knowing she was going to die.

  Tom shoved Leona aside. Xerka slammed into him instead, clawing and biting. They fell onto the sand.

  Leona activated her time-twister.

  The implant thrummed inside her head, hammering at her skull. She cranked up the setting, taking on the agony, slowing time to a crawl.

  Around her, droplets of water hung in the air. Xerka and Tom were locked in battle. Aurora still beckoned. Time barely moved.

  But Leona, moving in her own time, had only moments. Left activated for too long, the time-twister would crack her skull.

  Nearly weeping from pain, she ran up the beach.

  Several Peacekeepers were emerging from the Galactic Hall, guns raised. One of the electric bolts streaked past Leona, moving incredibly fast even with her time-twister on. She reached the Peacekeeper, pulled his gun free, then ran back to the beach.

  Xerka was winding around Tom now, crushing him. Her jaws were opened in a huge grin, wide enough to swallow a man. Tom was screaming, his voice deep and distorted.

  Leona aimed and fired.

  Her blast slammed into Xerka's head, burning the skin, knocking out a fang.

  Xerka's body loosened, freeing Tom. Her claws had torn open his flesh.

  Leona fell to her knees. The pain blinded her. She could do no more. She released her time-twister. The veil of agony lifted, and time resumed its natural flow.

  Xerka screamed and fell, electricity arcing across her head. Tom clutched his wounds, and blood gushed between his fingers. The other basilisks were charging.

  "To the ship!" Leona shouted.

  They ran, crossed the last few meters of sand, and reached the geode-ship.

  "Get in, hurry!" Leona said.

  She turned and fired her gun. Xerka was coming toward them again, her face cracked and smoldering. Leona hit the basilisk with bolt after bolt, chipping her scales. But the creature never slowed. Leona kept firing, giving her friends time to climb into Aurora's ship.

  Xerka crossed the last few meters and lunged at Leona.

  The basilisk's jaws opened, ready to swallow her.

  Tentacles grabbed Leona and pulled her up.

  As Aurora pulled her into the geode-ship, Leona fired a final bolt, hitting Xerka.

  Then she was inside the ship, and the geode's engines were rumbling. They rose from the beach, raising clouds of sand.

  "You are a traitor, Menorian!" Xerka screeched from below, the sand whipping her. "Curse you! Curse the Menorians! Curse the human pests!" The queen cackled, eyes mad. "Your worlds will burn!"

  Leona flipped her off. "Go tie yourself in a knot, snake."

  She pulled the hatch shut.

  The geode-ship soared through the sky and into space.

  Crystals glowed above Leona, and the ship burst into warp speed, leaving the Council far behind.

  Her adrenaline wore off, and Leona fell to her knees on the polished stone deck. She took ragged breaths, trembling. A wound smoked on her shoulder, and her leg was bleeding. She raised her head and looked around her. The chamber was dark and smooth, like being inside a shell, and the crystals shone and vibrated above. Aurora was here, along with several other Menorians. The octopuses moved around the humans, tending to their wounds.

  "Young lioness." Aurora stroked her hair. "I am sorry."

  They were all looking at her. Ramses and Najila sat embraced. Tom's face was hard, one hand holding a bandage to his chest, the other hand curled into a fist. The Menorians were silent, waiting, bodies the deep blue of mourning.

  We lost.

  Leona's eyes stung.

  But we still fight.

  "Aurora." Leona placed her hand on her friend's soft, boneless body. "Thank you. For voting for us. For saving our lives. Thank you for everything."

  Yellow spots appeared on Aurora's body. "You are welcome, my friend. Should I take you back to Earth?"

  Leona looked at her friends, then out a porthole to space, then back at Aurora. She spoke softly.

  "No. Take us to your homeworld."

  Ramses leaped to his fleet. His eyes flashed. "This is war, Leona! We can't abandon Earth!"

  "We won't, Ramses. We're not flying to exile. We flew into space to find allies, to find help for Earth. And that's still our mission." Leona turned toward the Menorians. "Take me to your world. I want to speak to your king." She clenched her fists and sneered. "And I want to buy some weapons."

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Rowan sat in the dented HDFS Byzantium, gazing at the photograph on her minicom. A photograph she loved with all her heart.

  It was not a photograph of her family. Not a photographed of loved ones or dear memories.

  It was not a still from a favorite movie, not the photo of a favorite musician or actor. It was a photograph of no particular significance.

  It was a photo pulled at random from the vast archives on the Earthstone. A photo from ancient Earth. It was a photo from a long-lost country called Holland, showing a windmill rising from fields of tulips. Children were playing among the flowers, while a boat lazily floated down a river.

  Rowan had no Dutch heritage, not as far as she knew. Her eyes were almond shaped, perhaps hinting at some distant Asian ancestry. Her hair was dark brown, and her skin was olive toned, perhaps a relic of the old Mediterranean or South America. She knew—or at least believed—that Marco Emery and Addy Linden, both heroes from old Earth, were her ancestors, but little about any other people in her family tree.

  It didn't matter. Those old distinctions? Meaningless.

  Here was a photo of Earth. And it was beautiful.

  It was why Rowan fought. To someday see children play among fields of tulips. To see a boat float down a lazy river. To lie in the sunlight and gaze upon the blue sky. She was not fighting for glory, not even for family; she had no family left. She was fighting for this photograph and a billion like it. For a memory of Earth that had been, and a dream of the Earth that could still be.

  And now Earth was beyond her reach.

  She looked outside the porthole at the remains of the Exodus Fleet. A year ago, she had sailed out with a hundred starships. She now had fifty. One among them was the vast Porter, a ship larger than all the others combined, and inside it huddled a hundred thousand refugees.

  And they were running ou
t of water, food, and air.

  Bay entered the room, holding a plate of pancakes. "Hey, Row. I made some pancakes! Want some?"

  She sighed and kept gazing outside, silent.

  Bay came to stand beside her. "Uh oh. If Rowan Emery is saying no to pancakes, something is seriously wrong."

  "Bay." Rowan stared toward the distant stars. Toward Sol. "I keep thinking about it. About Earth—just there, a few light-hours away. Ten thousand basilisk ships around it. And Coral gone. And us stuck out here, without a portal to take us home, maybe without hope." She gave a weak laugh. "So yes, I'd say things are seriously wrong."

  Bay put down the pancakes and embraced her. "I love you."

  She kissed him. "I know." Suddenly tears flooded her eyes, and she trembled. "Bay, we lost the vote. And I'm scared. I've been fighting this war for five years now. Five years of battle, of dreaming, of heartbreak. And I've been scared many times. But not like this. For the first time, I feel hopeless."

  Bay held her close in his arms. He kissed the top of her head. "Row, let me tell you a little story. About two years ago, maybe three, we were fighting on some distant moon. I think it was Helios, maybe another one; they all blur together. The scorpions had my unit surrounded in a forest. They were closing in. We were all scared shitless. We starting talking about going on a banzai charge—a suicidal run at the enemy. We'd have died, but died in glory. Just when we were about to panic, Ramses said to us: 'Boys, whenever you feel scared, make a pot of coffee.'"

  Rowan nodded. "Sounds like him, the crazy Egyptian."

  "So he pulled out that silver pot of his, and right there in the middle of the battlefield, with the scorpion units tightening, he brewed coffee. We sat and drank. We were halfway through our mugs when it began to rain. I mean really pour. Thunder, lightning, the works. Mud flooded the hillsides and a river overflowed. The scorpions not only lost our tracks. The buggers were swept off. Thanks to that bastard's coffee, we lived to fight another day."

  "Lovely story," Rowan said, "but I fail to see the point."

  "Here's the moral," Bay said. "Sometimes you're stuck. You're scared. You don't know what to do. At times like that—stop! Don't panic. Don't do anything rash. Make a cup of coffee. Sip it slowly. And wait. Maybe your fortunes will turn. Well, we don't have coffee on this ship. But we do have those delicious pancakes I made. And I think the principle is the same."