The Heirs of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 1)

by Daniel Arenson

  Her name is Coral, Emet remembered.

  "But sir," Coral said, "do we have enough starships? Enough warriors? Can we truly split up? We lost so many . . ." The weaver hung her head low. "So many gone."

  Mumbles passed through the crowd.

  The weaver was speaking sense, Emet knew. The Heirs of Earth had suffered heavy losses. They had not been this small in years. They had only a handful of starships, a handful of warriors left. Yet what choice did Emet have?

  "You fight with the army you have," Emet said. "And we will fight on. We—"

  Engines.

  Engines rumbled outside.

  People cried out in fear.

  "The scorpions!"

  "The enemy is here!"

  "They found us!"

  Emet frowned. Had the scorpions already made it so far into Concord space?

  He stepped out of the cave, rifle in his hands. Rowan and Leona followed, pistols drawn. They stared into the snowy sky. Several shuttles were descending through the flurries. Unable to land on the mountainside, they touched down in the valley.

  Emet furrowed his brow. He looked at the others.

  Those weren't scorpion ships.

  The Inheritors began racing down the mountainside.

  In the valley, they saw the shuttles humming on the ground, melting the snow. Several more shuttles were already descending. Emet could not determine their origin. They were clearly alien shuttles, but heavily modified, cobbled together from various components.

  A hatch opened on one shuttle, and a man emerged.

  A human.

  He had a shaggy brown beard, wore an overcoat that was even shaggier, and an alien-looking rifle hung across his back. A woman and children peered from the shuttle behind him. The man trudged through the snow and flurries, finally coming to stand before Emet.

  "Emet Ben-Ari?" the man said, having to shout over the wind. A toothy grin split his face. "Lovely planet you chose! Can't wait to see the beaches." He reached out his hand to shake. "Name's Jon. Jon Harris. I lead a small community of two hundred humans. We heard about your exploits on the border. Impressive! You got balls, Emet Ben-Ari. We've got some muscle ourselves, some good warriors, some bullets, even a clunky old mothership in orbit with some half-decent cannons on her. We've come to help! If you'll have us, that is."

  Emet looked at the other shuttles. More people were emerging. Children. Elders. But also young men and women of fighting age. With weapons. With determination in their eyes.

  Humans.

  Children of Earth.

  Emet had to tighten his lips, worried that after all this bloodshed, this agony, this fear, he would finally break down in tears.

  He clasped Jon's outreached hand in both his own, then said to hell with it—and embraced the man.

  "You are most welcome here, Jon Harris."

  A day later, another human community arrived. There were a hundred of them, exiles who had been hiding on a distant moon. They too had a starship, an alien vessel outfitted with shields and weapons. They too vowed to fight.

  On the third day, no fewer than four starships arrived, each from a different human community. Some had been hiding on an asteroid, working in deep mines. Others had survived beneath an alien city, living in the sewers. A handful of humans, like Rowan, had spent their exile surviving in space stations like mice. One starship even carried survivors from Hierarchy territory; the Rawdiggers had smuggled them out in exchange for diamonds.

  They all brought the same message.

  "We heard of Leona Ben-Ari, the descendant of Einav, freeing the survivors of the gulock. We heard of the Corvette Company leading the charge against the strikers. We heard of the Old Lion ejecting the Blue Witch from his airlock. We heard of the Heirs of Earth and their courage. We will join you. We will fight. We will see Earth again."

  For days, they kept arriving from across the galaxy. Starship after starship. More survivors from across space. More humans. For the first time in thousands of years, these dispersed, exiled people, hunted like vermin and living in shadows, joined together.

  Within weeks, the Heirs of Earth swelled to their largest size ever. Forty-two warships flew for Earth, ranging from massive freighters to humble corvettes. Cargo ships, shuttles, and starfighters completed their fleet. Three thousand humans gathered here at this snowy world so far from home. Warriors. Survivors. All were the Heirs of Earth.

  * * * * *

  On a cold morning, Leona stood in the snowy valley, her cloak wrapped around her, as the Heirs of Earth burned their dead.

  Many of their fallen were lost to space. But many bodies had been recovered from the war, kept frozen aboard their ships. And now they burned. The fires dotted the valley, an individual fire for every fallen hero. They had anointed the dead with fuel, and they burned bright and fast and hot.

  Emet was speaking of the fallen heroes. A few priests and monks were praying. Leona did not listen. She stood apart from the others. The snowy wind fluttered her cloak, billowed her curly hair, and stung her face. It smelled of ashes. Sparks rose like fields of stars.

  A clear, high song rose, startling her. Leona looked up to see that Coral Amber stood on an icy outcrop, her white hair streaming. She sang an old song in the language of Til Shiran, her desert world, but Leona knew it was a song of mourning.

  Bay approached, trudging through the snow. Her brother gave her a sad smile.

  "Are you ready, Leona?"

  "No," Leona whispered. "I'm not. But I'll do this nonetheless."

  She stepped slowly toward a fire. The heat bathed her, searing her tears dry, and sparks flew onto her uniform. Leona reached into her pack and pulled out her husband's skull. She caressed it.

  "Goodbye, Jake," she whispered.

  She knelt and placed the skull in the fire, then added another log. She stepped back, watching as the fire roared.

  Bay pulled her into his arms. Leona leaned against her brother as the fires burned.

  "I love you, Bay," she said. "I'm glad you're back."

  "I'm glad to be back," he whispered, voice choked.

  They had no urns. They used the empty cartridges of artillery shells. They placed the ashes of their fallen into these canisters, and marked them, and sealed them. They would take the ashes along the dark road. Someday they would scatter them on Earth.

  "I will scatter Jake's ashes in the Atlantic ocean." Leona smiled shakily at Bay. "Someday, I'll sail those waters. We always dreamed of sailing there together."

  Rowan walked toward them. The girl had snow in her short hair, and her eyes were sad and sparkling.

  "I love to sail forbidden seas," Rowan said softly.

  Leona raised her eyebrows. "Have I told you that I have that line tattooed on my arm?"

  Rowan's eyes widened. "You do? It's from Moby Dick, you know. One of my favorite novels."

  Leona gaped at the girl for a second, then laughed. She pulled Rowan into her arms, and Bay joined the embrace. Then they walked up the mountainside, away from the cold, and into the warm shadows of their cave.

  * * * * *

  The next day, Emet took a shuttle back to the ISS Jerusalem, which was orbiting the frozen planet. The new communities had brought mechanics. They had patched up the Jerusalem. They had replaced the cracked shields, resealed the breaches, and painted the hull deep silver. The starboard and port displayed the symbol of the Heirs of Earth—golden wings growing from a blue sphere.

  The Jerusalem was an old ship, even older than Emet's fifty-five years. She looked new.

  He entered through the back airlock. The hold had always been an empty chasm, the place where the Jerusalem had carried liquids during her days as a tanker. Over the past few weeks, his people had been working here, building with wood taken from the planet below. Now a hundred and fifty cabins lined a central corridor. Each cabin contained wooden cots and fur blankets, room enough for a family. Carpenters were already setting down the foundations of a mess hall and lounge.

  The Jerusa
lem was still a warship. She would still fight in battles. But she could also provide a temporary dwelling for refugees returning home.

  Leona stepped into the hold beside him. She nodded, admiring the work. "Looks cozy."

  "A thousand of our people survived the horrors of the gulocks," Emet said. "We cannot heal their scars. But we can make them comfortable. We can give them some semblance of normal life. Until they can lie on the grass of Earth and gaze upon blue skies."

  Leona turned toward him. "Do you think it's possible, Dad? Even if we find our way home. If we find that green grass and blue skies. Can we ever forget? Ever heal?"

  He knew Leona was not just talking about the gulock survivors.

  He pulled his daughter into his arms. "Maybe not. Some scars don't heal. Some memories forever haunt us. We fight, we bleed, we suffer so that others may live in light. I don't know if I'll live to walk on Earth, or if I'll die in the darkness of space, fighting for a world I'll never see. But someday new babies will be born on Earth. Someday children will play on grass and gaze upon our sky. We cannot undo the pain. We cannot forget the horror. We cannot avenge the millions who fell. But we can fight for those who come after us. For eighty generations, we hid in darkness. May the next generation be the first born on Earth."

  She slung an arm around him. They stepped onto the bridge. They gazed out upon the rest of their fleet.

  "The journey will be long," Leona said. "But it's time to begin."

  Emet nodded. "It's time to go home."

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Rowan sat in the mountain cave, wrapped in a fur cloak. Only a handful of other survivors were still down here. Almost everyone was up with the fleet now, prepared to fly away from the frozen planet. Some would fly out to seek more human communities. Others would return to battle the Hierarchy. A handful of intrepid humans would seek Earth. All three were noble pursuits.

  But right now, Rowan just sat in the cave. An emptiness filled her, and the weight of the mountain seemed to press down upon her.

  She pulled her old photograph from her pocket. The one from another cave on a distant world. She smoothed the wrinkly plastic casing. A photo of herself as a toddler. With her family. With Jade.

  Rowan gazed at her sister for a long time. A seven-year-old girl with blond hair. With kind eyes.

  Finally Rowan placed her photo back in her pocket, and she pulled out her old companion. When closed, Fillister looked like a humble pocket watch, cold and smooth in her hand. Her father had given her the robot fourteen years ago. A toy. A gadget. But Fillister had become so much more.

  She removed the chain, clicked a button, and his wings and head sprouted out. The robotic dragonfly yawned and hovered before her, wings buzzing.

  "Mornin', squire! Is it time to leave?" He shivered. "Blimey, it's cold on this world." The tiny robot frowned. "You all right, Row?"

  She spoke softly. "Fill, am I a bad person?"

  "What's that now?" Fillister buzzed from side to side, agitated. "You're bloody brilliant, you are. You know that."

  "Fill, I . . . I saw my sister. Up there. In the battle. I saw Jade."

  Fillister froze. His wings stopped flapping and he clanked onto the floor. He looked up at her.

  "You . . . saw Jade? Our Jade?"

  "I tried to save her," Rowan whispered. Her voice cracked. "I tried, Fill. I tried so hard, but the scorpions still have her. They did something to her. Changed her. Hacked into her brain using those implants. All those evil things she did? The scorpions made her do them. My sister is not to blame, not evil. I know this. And I'm scared I'll never get her back. That I didn't love her enough. That she doesn't love me, or . . ."

  "Now, now." Fillister flew up and nuzzled her. "You love Jade very much. I know that. She will too someday. Chin up! I promise you, Row, if there's a way to get her back, we'll do it." He nodded emphatically. "We ain't giving up on the girl yet. She's family, after all."

  Rowan hugged the dragonfly to her chest, careful not to bend his wings.

  "Fill, do you remember all those nights in the ducts? Nights reading books. Writing our Dinosaur Island movie scripts. Watching fantasy movies. Listening to music. Dreaming. Hiding. Fleeing exterminators. Sneaking down to steal food and water. Being so scared all the time."

  "It was a hard life," Fillister said. "But we had each other."

  "We used to dream of seeing the stars. We'd climb to the top of Paradise Lost, gaze through the tiny porthole, see one star, maybe two, three on a good night. We'd dream of flying among those stars. Meeting other people." She lowered her head, tears falling. "I never thought it would be like this. So painful."

  "Chin up!" Gently, Fillister nudged her head back up and hovered before her eyes. "We'll get through this, Row. We'll beat them scorpions, same as we beat them exterminators. There's still beauty out there. Among the stars. There are still wonders to behold. Not all is darkness and pain." He turned toward the mouth of the cave, and they gazed out at the stars. "See there? See those lights? That's hope. Up there, among the stars, a human fleet awaits us. Humans, Row! Real humans. Real friends. Your people. Might be they even got a cute robot or two." He waggled his tiny metal eyebrows. "I've had me eyes on that Brooklyn bird!"

  Rowan couldn't help but laugh. "She thought you're an ant."

  "Ah, she's only playing hard to get, she is! Wait till she sees me put on the old Fillister charm." The robot tugged at Rowan's sleeve. "Now come on, Row. Let's get up there. Fly among the stars, alright?"

  She nodded, rose to her feet, and patted her pistol. Lullaby was heavy and comforting on her hip.

  "Let's go up there," she said. "Let's fight. Let's love. Let's see some wonders." She grinned. "And let's watch some movies."

  * * * * *

  "Rowan, I'm sorry."

  Bay knelt by the bedside. Rowan was lying there, watching The Princess Bride, one of her favorite movies.

  "Shh!" she said. "It's the big sword fight scene."

  Bay rolled his eyes. "Rowan! You've seen this movie a million times."

  "Fine, fine." She paused it and propped herself up on her elbow. "What are you sorry for?"

  They were inside Brooklyn. The rest of the fleet was hovering around them. They were still orbiting the frozen planet, but shuttles had been ferrying up the last survivors from the caves. Soon thousands of humans would be aboard the fleet, and they would be ready to fly out.

  Bay lowered his head. "When you joined the Heirs of Earth, when you spoke your vows, I wasn't there."

  Rowan nodded. She spoke in a small voice. "I know. I wanted you there."

  "I'm sorry I didn't attend. It was . . . hard for me. To hear vows spoken. I hated the Heirs of Earth, wanted nothing to do with the organization. And . . ." The words seemed to pain him. "I hated that you joined. Because it meant you would fly away from me."

  Rowan glanced at the mirror on the wall. She still wore her uniform. Her brown hair was still short and messy. Her feet were bare.

  "And you said I look like a hobbit," she said.

  "You do!" Bay smiled, the weight seeming to lift from his shoulders. "So, my little Frodo. Today aboard the Jerusalem, I'm saying my own vows. I'm joining you. And, dear lady, I would be honored if you attended."

  She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, so now I'm a lady!"

  He nodded and took her hand in his. "My fairest lady of the Shire."

  She rolled her eyes. She pointed at some of his artwork that hung on the walls. "Oh, I've seen your ladies. I might need a pair of melons shoved down my shirt."

  Bay actually blushed. "Those are warrior princesses, Rowan."

  "And what am I, chopped liver?"

  He groaned. "Just come hear my vows, all right? I want you there."

  Rowan smiled and hugged him. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. Well, definitely not for this frozen world we're orbiting. Maybe I'd miss it for Earth. Or Middle Earth." She mussed his hair and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you're joining us, Bay Ben-Ari."

  "Now turn around
so I can change. I gotta get into my new uniform."

  Her eyes widened. "I want to watch you get undressed!"

  "Fine," Bay said. "So I get to watch you next you—"

  "Turning around!" She faced the wall.

  Bay got dressed in clothes his father had given him. Brown trousers. A white collared shirt. A long blue coat with silver buttons. A tawny cowboy hat. He slung a rifle across his back, its bolt bristly with brass gears, its stock carved from real wood. He looked at himself in the mirror. His dark blond hair and beard were cropped short. The sleeves on the coat were the right length; his bad hand was exposed. It hung at his side, curled inward, stiff and useless. But lately Rowan had been smiling freely, revealing her crooked teeth without shame. Maybe Bay needed to be a little less shy too.

  "You can turn around now," he said.

  Rowan faced him. "You look . . ." She blushed. "You look very handsome. Like a prince."

  He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure that'll help me when fighting the scorpions. Why look like a fierce warrior? It's Prince Charming that'll intimidate them!"

  "Oh, I never said you were charming." Rowan mussed his hair. "More like Prince Grumpypants."

  Brooklyn's voice rose from the cockpit. "I can hear you two flirting, you know!"

  "We're not flirting!" they both said together.

  "Sure," Brooklyn said. "And I'm not a talking starship who almost certainly has ants in her engines. Are you meat-bags ready to fly over to the Jerusalem already? I'm rusting here!"

  Rowan looked at Bay.

  He nodded. "We're ready."

  Brooklyn took them to the flagship, and they climbed aboard. Emet was already waiting in the new conference room. Leona and a few other Inheritors were there too. Bay was nervous. For a decade now, he had slunk in shadows, shying away from a crowd. But he squared his shoulders, approached them, and stood in the open light.

  "Bay Ben-Ari!" his father said. "My son. Are you ready to take your vows, to join the Heirs of Earth?"