The Heirs of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 1)

by Daniel Arenson

  Emet's face flushed. He bared his teeth, and his fists clenched. "It's more of a home than you have here. Look at yourself, Bay. You're twenty-four. An adult. The age I was when I founded the Heirs of Earth. And you're strung out, addicted to drugs and grog. Don't deny it. I can see it in your eyes. Addicted to virtual girls. Addicted to gambling. I didn't come here to protect you from exterminators. I came here to protect you from yourself."

  "And who will protect me from you?" Bay was shouting now. "Is your life any better? Addicted to war? Fighting battle after battle? Maybe I'm not interested in being a soldier! I'm not Leona. I don't care about the Heirs of Earth or your fleet."

  "That fleet is your home!" Emet roared.

  Bay shoved his grog aside. The glass shattered. "I had a home! Once. Years ago. A nice home. With grass. And sunlight. And a girl I loved." His voice cracked. He hated that his eyes were damp. "And you pulled me away from there. You—"

  "Not this again—" Emet began.

  "Yes!" Bay shouted. "This again! I was fourteen, and I loved her, and you didn't care. You dragged me away in that rusty old fleet of yours. Like you want to do now."

  "You were a child!" Emet said. "What did you know?"

  "I knew that I loved her!" Bay shouted. "Her name was Seohyun. Say it! You never said her name. I loved her. I was going to marry her. We were going to live forever in Vaelia. A good world. A world of grass and sunlight. You ruined my life!"

  Bay panted. His chest heaved. Damn it. Rowan could hear him. He felt her watching. It was mucking embarrassing. In the back of his mind, Bay knew he was being childish. He was acting like the fourteen-year-old boy again. But he couldn't stop it. This pain had eaten at him for so long. Bay had not seen his father in a decade, and still the grief was festering. Now the wound had been opened, and all the poison was seeping out.

  "Son." Emet's voice was softer now. "You knew we were only on Vaelia for a year. You knew we went there to resupply and recruit Inheritors. You knew we were never planning to stay. We grew crops to feed us for years to come. We recruited and trained a hundred good soldiers too. And we had to leave. To leave the others behind. Even Seohyun. We offered them room on our ships. They chose to remain."

  "And they died!" Bay shouted, voice hoarse. "Because you weren't there to protect them! At least I tried. I returned to Vaelia."

  "Son." Emet reached out to him.

  But Bay couldn't stop. Everything was spilling out now. He was fourteen again. Broken.

  "I returned because I loved her," Bay said. "And not a week later, the scorpions arrived. And . . ."

  The memories pounded through him. He had been so young. More boy than man. He still remembered struggling, shouting as his father pulled him away from Vaelia. He still remembered the fleet flying off to a new world, to seek new humans. He still remembered stealing Brooklyn, just shuttle then, and flying back to Vaelia. Back to Seohyun.

  Her family had chosen to remain behind. What life could they have had as Inheritors? They were farmers. Theirs was a life of growing things. Of grass and wheat. Of sunlight and rain. They had never been to space.

  For a week, Bay had hidden in the forest. His father had sought him, yes. But Bay knew the forest well, had hidden among the trees, visiting the village by night. Visiting Seohyun.

  After a week, Emet had abandoned the search, leaving only two soldiers behind to continue looking. The famous admiral had flown away, on to fight his wars.

  A day later, the scorpions had attacked.

  "You left us," Bay whispered, sitting at the bar, head lowered. "You left me. You left her. You left the village. The scorpions came and killed everyone. I only survived because I was in the forest. Hiding from you. When I went to find Seohyun, everything was gone. She was burnt, nothing but bones and hair." He raised his damp eyes and stared at his father. "You could have fought them. You could have saved her. With the Inheritors there, she would still be alive."

  For a moment, it looked like Emet might actually shed tears. His eyes were red and haunted. But then he narrowed his eyes, and his face hardened, but his voice was still soft.

  "Son, listen to me carefully." Emet stared into his eyes. "I'm sorry for what happened. I'm sorry she died. I searched for you. By Ra, I didn't know you were in that forest. Everyone thought you had flown to another world. I searched for you on every neighboring planet, and I haven't stopped searching for you since. And you must understand something, Bay. I could not have saved Seohyun. Our war is for one world only. For Earth."

  Bay looked away. His head reeled.

  Father didn't abandon me after a week? He's been searching for me all these years?

  Bay's voice was weak. "You've always cared for Earth more than for me."

  "That is the boy speaking," Emet said. "That is the fourteen-year-old who ran. You're a man now, Bay. A warrior. You and Rowan took out an entire phalanx of bonecrawlers, creatures even my toughest Inheritors fear. I'm proud of you."

  Bay snorted. "Spare me the ass kissing, Dad."

  And suddenly Bay was laughing. Because he felt empty. All the pain of ten years had flown out. And he laughed.

  "Bay." Emet placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know it was hard for you. Growing up the son of Emet Ben-Ari. Hell, the name Ben-Ari alone is hard to bear, the name of the Golden Lioness from the legends. It's even worse to grow up with me as a father. To grow up with the Inheritors. I know that when we had to leave Vaelia, it broke your heart. I know that you still mourn Seohyun's loss. And I'm sorry." And now Emet's eyes did dampen. "You are my son. And I love you. I love you more than anything. More than Earth itself."

  Bay looked at him. And he remembered being a toddler, leaping on his dad, tugging his beard, laughing as Emet pretended to become a dragon and breathe fire. He remembered his dad showing him how to tie a knot. How to fire a gun. How to bandage a wound and handle a knife. He remembered laughing. Storytime at night. A father. And everything inside Bay shattered, and he was broken glass, broken memories, a broken shell here in the pub.

  "I love you too," he whispered.

  Emet embraced him.

  A huge sniffle sounded behind them, and Bay turned to see Rowan crying.

  "I'm sorry!" the girl said, struggling to rub her eyes while holding her oversized gun. "It's just so beautiful!"

  Bay wiped his eyes and reached for another cup of grog. His cheeks flushed. He was embarrassed at his weakness, at his tears. But when Emet patted the seat beside them, and when Rowan joined them, Bay was glad to have her there.

  "I guess I should finally introduce you two," Bay said. "Rowan, this is my dad, Emet Ben-Ari. He's the leader of the Heirs of Earth, a paramilitary group dedicated to helping humans in peril, harbor human refugees, and someday find and reclaim Earth. A few call my dad a freedom fighter. Most in Concord space call him a terrorist mastermind. To his followers, he's the new Moses, fighting to lead his people home. Dad, this is Rowan. She's the daughter of David Emery, your old friend. She hasn't met another human since she was two years old, and has been hiding in the ducts of Paradise Lost since then. She's good at killing aliens. She's also in possession of the Earthstone, the holiest relic of Earth." He sipped his grog. "So, funny you two should meet, huh?"

  They both stared at him, blinking.

  Then they stared at each other.

  "I've heard so many tales of the famous Admiral Emet Ben-Ari," Rowan said. "Some call you a prophet. I never imagined I'd meet you."

  Emet was pale. "You're David Emery's daughter? You have the Earthstone?"

  "Yep." Rowan nodded, reached under her collar, and pulled out the crystal that hung from her chain.

  Emet stared at the stone. He reached out and touched the crystal. At his touch, it glowed. His eyes widened.

  "The Earthstone," Emet whispered. "For years, I sought it. Within this crystal is stored the cultural heritage of our people. The philosophies of Aristotle, Socrates, Plato. The works of Spinoza, Kepler, Thomas Paine, Newton, Einstein, and Sagan. The holy books of our great r
eligions and mythologies. Literature by Shakespeare, Charles Dickens, Tolstoy. The music of Mozart, Beethoven, Bach. The great works of art by Michelangelo, Donatello, Raphael. All that we have achieved as a species. Our cultural treasures. Our greatest works of art and thought and creation. Who we are, what we almost lost. All shines within this stone."

  Rowan bit her lip. "You forgot Leonardo."

  "Of course!" said Emet. "The great works of Da Vinci!"

  Rowan blushed. "Oh, I thought you meant the Ninja Turtles, but—" She gulped. "Never mind. Yeah! I mean, cultural treasures. Lots of them. I spent the past few years admiring all the heritage! It was so . . . heritagey." She glanced at Bay and winced.

  "You managed to tap into the Earthstone?" Emet said, eyes wide.

  Rowan nodded. "Yeah! I built an adapter. I was able to translate the data stored inside into something alien tech could understand. I quickly figured out how to read the text files, so I could load up books. It took a bit longer to figure out how to stream videos, but I eventually got that working too. I even wrote my own audio codec. Fillister—that's my robot—helped too. I had a sweet rig set up. But a giant crab shot a few bullets through it. I can show you how to do it again, if you have the right tech. I love machines. Anything with wires, gears, or microchips. I can spend hours tinkering with it. I also spent hours with the Earthstone. It kept me sane." She lowered her head. "The loneliness was often overpowering. Without the Earthstone, I would have gone mad."

  "The Earthstone will help many," Emet said. "We've been unable to make copies of the data. But we hope to achieve this in the future. When we find Earth, when we bring humanity home, we'll need to rebuild our planet. Our cities. Our farms. Our population. But just as importantly, we'll need to rebuild our culture. With the Earthstone, we can." He smiled. "I'm glad, Rowan, that you were able to access its secrets. I'm heartbroken that you spent so many years alone, but relieved that you had the works of great artists and thinkers to keep you company."

  She bit her lip, blushing, then glanced up at Emet. "Okay, confession time. I hadn't even heard of all those cultural treasures." She cringed. "I spent the past few years playing old Earth video games, reading geeky fantasy novels like Dragonlance, laughing at Mystery Science Theater 3000 episodes, dancing to K-pop music, and watching Monty Python." She winced. "Does Monty Python count?"

  At first, Emet gaped, but then a huge grin split his face. Bay had never seen his father smile so widely.

  "Rowan, that too is culture," Emet said. "Popular culture is just as valuable, just as wonderful, as classical Renaissance art. You have experienced some of the best culture humanity has produced. Never be ashamed of enjoying popular culture. It's a treasure."

  Rowan grinned too, a tight-lipped grin, hiding her teeth. "I'm glad I met you, Emet Ben-Ari. And . . ." She twisted her fingers. "Bay told me what happened. That my dad stole this stone from you. I haven't heard his side of the story. But whatever bad blood was between our families, I hope to remedy that now. To make peace between the Ben-Aris and Emerys. We're all human. The Earthstone belongs to us all." She reached out her hand. "On behalf of the Emery family, let us make peace."

  Emet clasped her hand and shook it. "Peace."

  Bay watched the exchange.

  Peace, he thought. Yes, peace between our families. He looked at Emet. And maybe between father and son.

  His heart twisted. It still hurt. It still hurt so badly.

  But for ten years, I raged. For ten years, I hated. For ten years, I sank into darkness. Maybe it's time for peace.

  Emet and Rowan were still holding hands, but now both were looking at him. Their eyes were soft.

  Bay reached out and placed his hand atop theirs.

  "Peace," he said softly.

  "Peace," Emet said.

  Rowan grinned. "We're like The Three Musketeers. All for one, and one for all! Like the Bryan Adams song! Though I think his song from Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves was better, and—" She gulped and blushed. "I mean—peace." She turned toward the bar tender and pounded on the counter. "Hey, can we get some frickin' pancakes here?" She glanced back at Emet and Bay. "You guys like pancakes, right? I've always wanted to try one."

  Emet smiled. "I'm not sure aliens know what pancakes are, Rowan. But we'll make you some back at the fleet."

  She nodded. "Good. I'll fight for pancakes."

  It was a sweet moment, and Rowan and Emet were smiling, but Bay felt cold.

  We made peace, the three of us, yet can we really live in peace? How long before more exterminators arrive? How long before the scorpions themselves attack? How long before we face fire and death again?

  He looked at them. At his father. At Rowan.

  He had already lost so much.

  I cannot love them. I cannot bear to lose them. I cannot bear to have this peace shatter.

  His father met his gaze, and Bay saw the same solemnity, maybe even the same fear. And Bay knew there would be no peace for humanity, not for many years, and the fires of war would soon burn anew.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  As Duncan moved through the ISS Kos, he felt his age in every damn joint.

  He could cure the Purple Cough, scorpion venom, and space sickness. He could set bones, stitch wounds, amputate limbs. He could nourish the starving back to health, comfort the dying. But one thing Doctor Duncan McQueen couldn't do.

  He couldn't cure damn aging.

  He was in his sixties now. And Ra above, did he feel every one of those years.

  The ISS Kos was a hospital ship. The only one the Heirs of Earth owned. If you could call it a hospital ship, at least. The rusty old clunker had once been a cattle transport, carrying mulers from world to world. The smell of shit still lingered. It was appropriate, Duncan supposed. An animal car had become a hospital, and a vet had become a doctor.

  Only hours ago, the Heirs of Earth had sent a platoon onto a hostile world, had rescued forty-two humans from an alien mob. The wounded now filled the ISS Kos.

  Another day. Another battle. And again Duncan did his work.

  Instead of proper hospital rooms, they had curtains. Instead of beds, they had military cots. Instead of modern medical equipment, they had old farm tools. And yet the ISS Kos had saved hundreds of lives. And had comforted hundreds of dying warriors.

  "Doc, I need you!" said Nurse Cindy, sticking her head around a curtain. She was a tall woman in her forties, her hair black and her blue eyes fiery. "It's Ramses. The damn man got a claw stuck halfway up his chest."

  "I'm fine, I'm fine!" rose a deep voice behind the nurse. "Just got the wind knocked out of me. Give me some good coffee and cardamom, and I'll be back up and fighting."

  Duncan stepped around the curtain. He found Nurse Cindy struggling to hold down her patient.

  "Lie down, you scoundrel!" the nurse said.

  "Unhand me, woman, I'm fine!" Ramses tried to rise again. "I'm descended of the pharaohs of ancient Egypt. No claw will hold me back."

  Duncan stifled a smile.

  Captain Ramses "Pharaoh" al Masri was among their best soldiers. He was a tall, slender man with brown skin, arched eyebrows, and a pointy black beard. He looked and moved like a stalking cat. He currently commanded the ISS Rosetta, one of the fleet's fastest, deadliest warships, and was also a capable Firebird pilot, fighting in many sorties. Many believed that Ramses would soon rise to commodore, perhaps even lead the Heirs of Earth someday.

  And like the ancient pharaohs, Ramses had the unfortunate tendency to believe he was immortal.

  "I got this," Ramses said. He wrapped his hands around the claw embedded into his chest, just along the ribs. "It's only a flesh wound. I—"

  He began to pull, then grimaced.

  "Need help there, laddie?" Duncan said, stepping closer.

  Ramses looked queasy. "I'm not myself without coffee. That's all this is." He glared at Cindy. "But the ghastly woman won't bring me any."

  Cindy bristled. "I brought you a cup!"

  Ramses snorted. "
You call that coffee? That came from a machine! Served in a foam cup! True coffee is lovingly brewed in a silver dallah, seasoned with cardamom, and served in porcelain. If you let me return to the Rosetta, I will fetch my percolator, and—"

  "You're not going anywhere with that thing stuck in your chest!" Cindy said. She tugged her hair in frustration, turning toward Duncan. "I give up, Doc. He's all yours. I've got more sensible troops to heal."

  The nurse stalked off.

  Ramses smiled. He looked at Duncan, one eyebrow raised. "She's crazy about me, you know. Madly in love."

  Duncan sighed. "You know, laddie, you certainly have a way with women. For some reason, they all want to kill ya." He stepped forward, grabbed the claw, and yanked.

  It came free with a spurt of blood.

  Ramses yowled.

  "What the devil, man? You could have warned me!"

  Duncan snorted. "That was for how you treated Nurse Cindy. Now lie down! This wee wound will need some stitching. Be a good lad, and I'll numb it first. Keep talking, and I'll make it hurt like a honey badger clawing at your crotch for hidden nuts."

  Ramses fell silent.

  Duncan patched the lad up. He needed these young soldiers alive and well, damn it. Not getting killed on their damn adventures. It was soldiers like Ramses, like Leona, like his own daughter—the younger generation—who would one day replace Emet and him. That would one day keep fighting for humanity.

  I might not live to see Earth, Duncan thought. These lads and lasses must.

  He bandaged the wound and slapped Ramses on the shoulder. "Take a few days off, lad. Drink whatever brew calms your nerves."

  "I'll be back fighting by this evening," Ramses said.

  Duncan snorted. "Ya do that, lad, and next time you come to my ship with a wound, I'll make sure Cindy patches you up—with a staple gun."

  He moved to the next room.

  He treated the next patient.

  For long hours, Duncan labored, healing the wounded. And preparing the fallen for burial in space. So many burns, wounds, trauma. So much pain.