Brooklyn flew toward the Jerusalem's airlock, and the larger ship extended a jet bridge. Bay made to climb aboard, but Rowan grabbed his arm and held him back.
"Bay, wait." She checked her watch. "We have another minute."
He raised an eyebrow. "Thought of watching a very, very short movie?"
She hugged him. "Just hold me. For a minute, hold me."
He held her. His arms were thinner than his father's, but they were still strong, and she felt so safe in them. She laid her cheek against his chest. Bay was not a tall man, but the top of her head barely reached his shoulders.
"Are you all right, Row?" he said, voice soft.
She closed her eyes. "Every time your dad calls us for a meeting, it's some horrible news. Another Concord world falling to the Hierarchy. Or another human enclave liquidated. Or another Inheritor who died from his wounds. And every time, I get so scared, so worried that we'll lose this war. So for a minute, hold me. Let me feel safe in your arms."
He stroked her hair and kissed her forehead.
"You're safe now, Rowan. With us. With your kind. You'll never be in danger again."
She looked up at him, smiling sadly. "You're a horrible liar, do you know that?"
He laughed. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his cheek.
I love you, Bay Ben-Ari, she thought. I dare not say it. But I think you know.
"Come on, hobbit." He mussed her hair. "We're late."
She gasped. "I am not a hobbit!"
"You look just like one."
She groaned. "If we weren't late, I'd prove to you that I'm elven warrior." She grabbed his hand. "Now come on, let's go hear your dad talk."
A meeting to do with the fate of humanity and the cosmos, she thought, stepping into the flagship. Well, what else is new?
CHAPTER THREE
Admiral Emet Ben-Ari stood in the ISS Jerusalem's war room, watching his soldiers enter and salute.
Perhaps I'm seeing some of them for the last time, he thought, his heart heavy.
As always when troubled, he placed his hand on his weapon—a beast of a rifle, double-barreled, the stock lovingly carved of real wood. He had named the weapon Thunder, for it fired bullets with booming fury. Its sister weapon hung from his belt, an electric pistol called Lightning. Both weapons had shed much blood. They would shed far more before this war ended.
His most trusted officers gathered before him. Commodores. Captains. Leaders representing the refugee communities who had joined his host. A few young, enlisted soldiers were here too. Among them stood his son Bay, new to the Heirs but not to war, and the girl Rowan, keeper of the Earthstone. Some of these people Emet had known for decades, others for only weeks. He trusted each one. These men and women, Emet knew, would give their lives for Earth.
Finally they were all here. All but Leona.
Emet saw the others glance around, seeking her, the famous Commodore Leona Ben-Ari. Since the Battle of Terminus, she had become something of a legend—the officer who had led the vanguard, who had carved the way out of the wormhole, forging a path for the Concord fleet. Even in alien civilizations, they were speaking of Leona the Lioness.
Yet Leona was not here aboard the Jerusalem. Not yet.
Emet cleared his throat.
"My fellow humans! We stand here together, refugees from many worlds, united in one army, fighting for one cause. To find Earth again!"
"For Earth, woo!" Bay cried out, raising a fist. The boy still had some protocol to learn.
Emet nodded and continued. "Yet while we do not forget our main cause, we fight another battle too. The Hierarchy, led by the cruel Skra-Shen scorpions, has invaded peaceful Concord space. Within the past few months, they have spread through the Tree of Light, the network of wormholes connecting the galaxy. They have won every battle. They have conquered every world they invaded. Before them, the Concord is crumbling."
"What do we care about the Concord?" said a gruff, mustached man, a leader of fifty refugees who had just recently joined the Heirs. "My people and I lived on a Concord world for years. The Concord aliens treated us as pests. They kept us imprisoned. Enslaved us. Brutalized us. You call the Concord peaceful? Bah! I say let the scorpions kill them all."
Mutters of agreement rippled through the group, especially among those recently saved from Concord worlds. Emet understood. The Hierarchy was brutal, but life in the Concord was not easy for humans either. On most civilized worlds, humans were treated somewhere between rat and cockroach. They were sometimes caged, sometimes tolerated if they kept out of sight, often killed. Concord aliens had slain many humans throughout history, destroying entire communities.
They're right to be angry, Emet thought. They're right to hate the Concord. But right now, the enemy of our enemy must be our friend.
Emet spoke over the crowd. "Friends! I understand. You suffered on Concord worlds. Some of you languished in enclaves. Others survived in hiding. I do not discount your suffering. It's why I, a human who also suffered in the Concord, founded the Heirs of Earth. But the Hierarchy is worse! The scorpions seek not only to imprison us, to enslave us, but to butcher us all. Already they've killed millions of our brothers and sisters across the galaxy. We survivors must help the Concord fight them."
"I refuse to choose a lesser evil!" said the mustached man. "I care only for Earth."
"As do I!" said Emet, his voice overpowering the crowd. "All my battles, all that I do, my life's purpose—it is for Earth. I spoke to Admiral Melitar, commander of the Concord fleets. He has recognized our courage at the Battle of Terminus. And he has recognized our ambitions for Earth. Should the Concord survive this war, Melitar will speak on our behalf. We'll have a powerful voice in Concord Hall, one that recognizes our independence, our right to live on Earth as a free people."
Another Inheritor, this one a tall, bald man, snorted. "I don't need anyone to give me Earth. I don't need any alien's approval. Earth is ours by right, not by privilege. It's our birthright!"
"It is!" said Emet. "And Earth will be our home again. Yet we cannot neglect this galactic war. All free people must choose sides in this war. All must fight. And we will fight against the Hierarchy! We will strike those who strike us! And more importantly—we will save some of the humans who might still live behind enemy lines, who might still need us."
This time, everyone agreed. Perhaps they didn't like the idea of fighting an alien war. Perhaps they hated the Concord as much as the Hierarchy. But they could all get behind saving more humans. A few people raised their fists, bragging of how many scorpions they would kill.
But one in the crowd remained somber.
She stepped forward, her blue coat rustling.
Emet recognized her. It was Coral Amber, the weaver.
They had only one weaver among them, one member of the Weavers Guild, that ancient and mysterious cult. Emet had never trusted weavers. Their theology seemed laughable. Ancient beings living in a higher plane of existence, sending down mystical aether? Glowing tattoos that could summon magic? If you asked Emet, it was a bunch of hogwash.
Coral raised her chin. She spoke to him, her voice surprisingly sonorous for one so young.
"You cannot defeat the scorpions with your starships, mighty as they may be, Emet Ben-Ari! Only the light of aether can defeat evil."
Emet glared at the young woman. Her skin was dark brown, and white tattoos coiled across her arms, cheek, and forehead, the symbols of her cult. She wore an Inheritor uniform, but she had embroidered silver sigils into the fabric. Instead of a gun, she bore an elaborate dagger carved of white crystal. It pommel was apple-sized and scrimshawed with runes.
"Corporal Amber, this is not the time," Emet said. "We have freedom of religion in the Heirs of Earth. But this is a council of war, not a worship service."
That much was true. Emet himself traced his ancestry back to ancient Jewish warriors. Some in the fleet worshiped the Christian god. Others worshiped Ra, the sun god, a popular deity in many human communities.
There were pagans, Buddhists, Sikhs, Cosmians—a variety of faiths from ancient Earth, as well as newer religions born in exile. Many Inheritors had no faith at all; they too were valuable soldiers. Emet accepted them all, so long as they did their job.
Yet he had to admit—weavers were different. Weavers seemed too fanatical. Too dangerous. Too obsessed with their symbols and lore, likely to ignore the reality around them.
Did I make a mistake accepting Coral into our ranks?
Coral scoffed. "Religion? No, dear admiral, I do not practice a religion. I do not rely on faith but on ancient knowledge. I am a weaver, a member of a guild that existed even before we lost Earth. I know the secrets of the aether, the forbidden knowledge of the Guild. And I tell you: There is a great weapon in the galaxy, a weapon forged by ancient weavers. A doomsday weapon. It is called the Godblade, and it can win this war. Do not engage the enemy with your guns. Seek the Godblade, Admiral, and you shall be victorious! But you must seek this artifact with all your haste, for the scorpions seek it too. And whoever finds the Godblade will find eternal glory!"
Mutters passed through the crowd. A few people rolled their eyes. Somebody laughed.
"Corporal Amber," Emet said, his voice softer now. "You said this weapon is ancient?"
She nodded. "Many eras old. Human weavers sought it even during the reign of the Golden Lioness, your own ancestor, thousands of years ago."
"All right," Emet said, "so surely, somebody would have found it by now, yes? If nobody has found it in thousands of years, why should—"
"Its location has only now been revealed," Coral said, interrupting him—actually interrupting him, the admiral of the fleet. "The alien Melitar has given you a map, Emet. A map showing the location of Earth. I've seen this map! It shows many hidden secrets, among them—the path to a planet called Elysium, a holy world in weaver lore. Elysium's location has long been lost, as was Earth's. But now we know the way! On Elysium, we'll find the Weeping Weaver Guildhall, the resting place of our greatest sage, the founder of our order. According to legend, the Godblade is buried there."
Emet grumbled. "Corporal Amber, enough. These are old legends. These—"
"The Hierarchy is expanding!" Coral said, eyes flashing. "Soon it will absorb Elysium too. The Skra-Shen know the Godblade is there, Emet. There are weavers among them. I faced a weaver scorpion myself in the swamp of Akraba. Your daughter saw him too." Coral stepped closer and grabbed Emet's arms. "Forget your war in space, and send your entire fleet to Elysium. You must reach the Weeping Guildhall before the scorpions! You must find the Godblade!"
More mutters rose in the crowd. Some gasps. Many rolling eyes.
"She's a nutter," mumbled one man.
Emet gently pried Coral's hands off. "Corporal, I've heard your advice. I will consider it. Now please return to your place."
"Do not dismiss me like a child!" she snapped. "Don't you understand? If the scorpions find the Godblade first, they—"
"Corporal!" Emet said. His patience was fraying. "I've spent enough time listening to this talk of ancient spells, magical artifacts, and fairy tales. Return to your cabin. Now."
Coral inhaled sharply. She gripped his arms again—and this time she shook him. "You must understand, Emet! The Godblade is real! Aether is real! You're being obtuse. If you refuse to listen to me, I will—"
"You will go to your cabin now, Corporal! And you will refer to your commanding officers as 'sir' from henceforth. Be thankful I don't court-martial you for your insubordination."
Coral's eyes widened. "Admiral! Sir! Whatever you want to be called, you must listen to me. Don't be a fool! You don't understand what we're dealing with. We—"
"Guards, remove the weaver," Emet barked. "Let her cool off in the brig."
Guards stepped forward and grabbed Coral's arms. She kicked wildly as they dragged her away.
"You must listen to me, Emet!" she said. "You must find the Godblade before the scorpions! You must or all is lost!"
Then the guards dragged her out of the room, and her cries faded in the distance.
Awkward silence filled the room. People glanced at one another, then at Emet.
"The weaver is passionate," Emet said. "Perhaps I treated her too harshly. After this council, I'll meet with her in private, and I'll hear more of her tale. But right now, we must focus on the physical universe, on saving our brothers and sisters from the gulocks."
People nodded, voicing agreements, and soon Coral was forgotten.
Bay stepped forward and spoke up. "And what about Earth? We finally know where Earth is! After thousands of years, we know Earth is real, waiting for us. Will we just forget our world until the war is over?"
The doors slammed open.
A tall figure stepped into the room.
"No, brother," said Commodore Leona Ben-Ari, smiling thinly. "A few of our ships will fly to Earth. And I will lead them there."
CHAPTER FOUR
As Leona entered the war room, all eyes turned toward her, and a hushed silence fell.
They still see me as the heroine, Leona thought. The famous commodore who led the Corvette Company. They don't know how hurt I am. How scared I am.
On the surface, she was all strength. She wore tall leather boots, brown trousers, and a blue overcoat with polished buttons. Her rifle, Arondight, hung across her back. Her mane of brown curls spilled from under her cowboy hat, cascading halfway down her back, thick and untamed. She could see herself reflected in the portholes. She had a proud face, much like her mother's, the skin olive toned, the eyes dark. If she lived on old Earth, she might have looked Mediterranean, maybe Latin American, unlike her father and brother who were fairer. But the old distinctions no longer mattered. They were all one nation in the darkness of space.
Yes, she appeared strong. She was strikingly tall, muscular yet graceful, and she walked with squared shoulders, a straight back, and a raised chin. She carried the aura of authority and of her legend.
Nobody knew of the pain inside her. The grieving widow. The haunted, broken warrior.
She dared not show them that side of her. She had to be a leader now. She would lead the mission to Earth. Someday, she would lead the entire fleet, inherit this war from her father. The people had to believe she was a heroine, a legend, as strong as a pillar of stone.
Or perhaps a pillar of fire, Leona thought.
In an old legend from Earth, one recounted in the Earthstone, the ancient Israelites had followed a pillar of fire out of captivity. It had led them to a promised land of milk and honey.
Today I must be like that pillar, Leona thought, and lead my people home. Not to a holy land but to a homeworld. To our planet. The only home we have.
"I will lead an expedition to Earth!" Leona said to the crowd, crossing the room. "I cannot take all of you. We're not ready to settle Earth yet. First we must see if Earth can still support human life. No human has set foot on Earth in two thousand years, not since the Hydrian Empire destroyed it, butchered billions of us, and exiled the last few humans into space. The Hydrian Empire fell long ago, but Earth might not be safe. Perhaps the soil or air are now toxic, poisoned by war. Perhaps other aliens have settled there, have claimed Earth as their own. The cruel Basiliska civilization, a race of giant serpents, now flies across that sector of space. Perhaps they will allow no humans in their empire."
"Then we'll take Earth from them!" a man cried. "Earth is ours! Nobody can forbid our return."
Cheers rose from the crowd.
"First we must know what we face!" Leona said. "We will not fly to Earth with our entire fleet, carrying thousands of refugees, only to find a world overrun with serpents, or with disease, or with radiation. I will take several brave warriors with me. We will find Earth! If the way is blocked, we will fight our way through. We will not turn back. If Earth is still hospitable to life, we will establish a colony. We will build walls and towers, but also plow fields." Her voice softened. "Thousands of human refugees might need to find a home on
Earth very soon. Maybe millions, if we can save them. We will plant our flag. We will make Earth safe."
Bay stepped closer to her. Her younger brother's face was pale. There was fear in his eyes, but courage too.
"And what if Earth isn't hospitable to life?" Bay said. "What if it's overrun with serpents, or what if aliens nuked it, and it's just a radioactive wasteland now?"
"If Earth is truly gone," Leona said, "a lifeless rock that can support no life, we'll have to find another home. A planet nobody else has claimed. Such a journey could take generations. But let's not lose hope yet. Let's pray to find a good, green planet, the home we lost so long ago. Earth is still calling us home."
"Calling us home," Bay repeated softly.
Lyrics from Earthrise, the anthem of humanity.
Rowan stepped forward, small and slender. The girl was normally a wallflower, hiding away, shy as a mouse. But now Rowan raised her chin and sang in a soft, clear voice.
Someday we will see her
The pale blue marble
Rising from the night beyond the moon
Cloaked in white, her forests green
Calling us home
Calling us home
Leona joined her song. They sang the next verse together, woman and girl, officer and corporal. Two humans far from home.
For long we wandered
For eras we were lost
For generations we sang and dreamed
To see her rise again
Blue beyond the moon
Calling us home
The entire crowd joined them. Their voices rang out, filling the starship.
Into darkness we fled
In the shadows we prayed
In exile we always knew
That we will see her again
Our Earth rising from loss
Calling us home
Calling us home
The song ended. Everyone had tears in their eyes. None of them had seen Earth—aside from a single blue pixel on Rowan's telescope, an image thousands of years old. But to every one of them, it was home.
A Memory of Earth Page 4
