A Memory of Earth

by Daniel Arenson

  Leona flew like she had never flown, making turns she hadn't known the Nazareth was capable of. Spores grazed her hull, corroding a corner of her ship. A geyser from the planet below sprayed her, sizzling across her shields, ripping off chunks of graphene. The corvettes were flying madly at Leona's sides, dodging the massive assault.

  Behind them, the last scorpion pursuer perished.

  "We're going to make it!" Leona said. "Now fly out of this hellhole. Back to open space!"

  "Capital idea," Ramses said. His Rosetta was showing ugly scars. "Nasty place, this."

  Mairead laughed from the bridge of the Kinloch Laggan. "What's a matter, Pharaoh? Scared of a few harmless little mushrooms? Not me! I'm going to roast a few of these buggers. These moldy bastards have been killing humans." She aimed her cannons. "Time to—"

  "Mairead, watch out!" Leona cried. "Below you!"

  Mairead looked up. "Commo—"

  A volcano on the planet below bloomed open.

  A geyser blasted and slammed into the Kinloch Laggan.

  "Mairead!" Leona shouted.

  Ramses stared, eyes wide. "Firebug!"

  The geyser engulfed the Kinloch Laggan, surrounding the ship, blazing across it.

  Mairead's transmission died.

  Her monitor went dark.

  "Captain McQueen, can you hear me?" Leona said into her comm. "Mairead!"

  The geyser died down.

  The ISS Kinloch Laggan was gone. Only a lump of molten metal remained. Nobody could have survived that.

  "Mairead . . ." Leona whispered.

  Ramses hung his head low. "Mairead. Oh Ra. Mairead, I'm sorry. Farewell, my beloved friend."

  A moment of silence.

  And the comm crackled to life.

  "I knew you loved me, dumbass."

  Leona and Ramses gasped.

  "Mairead!" they cried out together.

  And there they saw her. She was flying through the battle in a spacesuit, blasting fire from a jetpack. A handful of her soldiers were flying with her, along with two Firebirds who had managed to escape the Kinloch Laggan's hangar.

  "Thanks for the warning, Commodore," Mairead said, flying toward them. "We ejected just in time. Lost a few good men, though. Heroes."

  Ramses was closer. He flew the Rosetta toward them, opened the airlock, and Mairead and the others climbed in.

  Fifty humans had served on the ISS Kinloch Laggan. Leona counted only seven that made it into the Rosetta.

  A heavy loss. Too heavy. But now was not the time to mourn.

  All around them, the battle still raged, the strikers and pods fighting over the moldy planet below.

  "Let's get out of here," Leona said as the volcanoes bloomed again.

  "Best idea I've heard all day," Ramses said.

  They flew through the battle, dodging assaults from every direction, until they soared into open space. The two starships—the Nazareth and the Rosetta—activated their warp engines. The stars stretched into lines, and they blasted off, leaving Esporia far behind.

  They flew on into the emptiness, leaving their fallen.

  Earth was still far, and the road seemed darker than ever before.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  "You are ready," Emet said, standing before her, the stars at his back.

  "I am ready," Rowan repeated, facing him, half his size but standing tall.

  "You are lightning in the dark," Emet said, staring into her eyes.

  "I am lighting in the dark," Rowan repeated, staring back.

  "You are an heiress of Earth," Emet said.

  Rowan raised her chin. Her eyes stung. She spoke in a steady voice. "I am an heiress of Earth."

  Emet saluted, slamming fist into palm. "For Earth."

  She returned the salute, and her eyes dampened, but she kept her shoulders squared. "For Earth."

  They stood on the deck of the ISS Byzantium, a twin to Jerusalem. Luther had given them the old tanker, and over the past few weeks, the Heirs' mechanics had been toiling, installing shields and cannons, painting the hull, and turning the Byzantium into a clone of her older sister. The words ISS Jerusalem even appeared on the hull. On the inside, she was a cavernous ship, her crew minimal. On the outside, she was a perfect imitation.

  Rowan approached a porthole. The rest of the fleet floated around them. The vessels proudly bore the Heirs of Earth symbol—the planet Earth with golden wings. They were all old ships, bought from Luther's scrapyard. But they would all fight bravely today.

  Doomsday was near.

  The day when we win or lose this war, Rowan thought. The day when I bring Jade back to humanity . . . or die at her hands.

  Rowan lowered her gaze. They were orbiting Helios, a sweltering moon, green and yellow and unforgiving. From up here, she could even see the canyon stretching across the land, thin as a hairline from this distance.

  There it would happen. There below. In that canyon.

  There we will meet again, Jade. And I pray that you remember me.

  Emet came to stand beside her. He gazed down with her at the moon.

  "Do you remember the plan, Rowan?" he said.

  "Of course, sir."

  "Tell me."

  She nodded. "We've been sending out a signal with an old code, announcing our presence here. Jade will pick up the transmission. She'll know you and I are here. She'll come with a fleet to meet us." She took a shuddering breath. "And we'll fight her above the sky."

  "And then?" Emet said.

  "She'll try to attack this warship, the Byzantium, thinking it's the Jerusalem," said Rowan. "We'll let her hit our shields. We'll pretend to crash. But we'll actually land in the canyon below—right where we planned. Jade will follow us down there, hoping to retrieve us—either wounded or dead."

  Rowan hesitated, suddenly too afraid to continue.

  "And then?" Emet insisted.

  Rowan patted the cylindrical container that hung across her back. Rolled up inside was the magnetic blanket.

  "When I see Jade, I'll capture her in this blanket. Its power is immense, ten times the strength of steel links. It'll hold her. You and I will lift her, drag her into the tunnel we carved. Then into our waiting shuttle. Then into space. Then into the true Jerusalem. Then—warp speed. We'll do this within ten minutes, sir. And we'll have her. We'll have Jade."

  Emet nodded. "You know the plan. But are you ready, Corporal? Deep inside you, in your heart and gut—are you ready?"

  She lowered her head. "I—"

  "Raise your head!" Emet said. "Look into my eyes."

  She raised her head. She looked into his eyes.

  "I don't know, sir." She inhaled shakily. "This will be the most important day of my life. Maybe the most important day of humanity. We have a large army now, but it seems so small compared to the Hierarchy. Jade might not only kill me and you today. She might destroy our entire fleet. We might lose this war, our dream of Earth. Sir, I'm scared."

  Emet nodded. "Good."

  "Good, sir?" She frowned. "How is being scared good?" She tilted her head. "Are you going to tell me something like . . ." She dropped her voice, imitating him. "One can only be brave when scared, young Rowan, for true courage means fighting even when you're afraid."

  Emet struggled to stifle a smile, then failed. "I was going to say: Good, at least you're honest."

  "Oh, you want honesty, sir? Well, in that case, truth is, I'm so scared I'm about to piss my pants." She grinned. "Marco Emery, my ancestor, once said that to Einav Ben-Ari, your ancestor, before a great battle. I read it in Einav's memoirs."

  Emet placed a hand on her shoulder. "We are descended of heroes, Corporal. Not just you and me. Every human in our fleet. And this is our great battle. Doomsday, as you call it. It will be here soon. Maybe tomorrow, maybe even today. The turning point of the war."

  "But no pressure, right?"

  "No pressure," Emet said, smiling thinly. "Now come. We have time until the enemy arrives. Let's train."

  Rowan nodded and a
ssumed a fighting stance. "Let's train, old man."

  Emet snorted. "Try to keep up, pipsqueak."

  He was forty years older than her, but Emet was a capable fighter. They trained at self defense, practicing throws and blocks and thrusts. They trained with rifles, swinging the barrels like blades. They trained with the magnetic cape, capturing bounding robots and knocking them to the floor. Slowly, with deep breaths, they practiced sweeping movements to stretch their limbs and clear their minds. They trained for hours, as they trained every day, as outside the portholes the stars shone and the fleet waited for battle.

  Their training ended, and Rowan was about to go shower and eat, when an alarm wailed.

  Rowan spun toward the porthole and stared outside.

  Her heart burst into a gallop.

  "Warships," she whispered. "Hundreds of warships. They enemy is here."

  As the Inheritor fleet began taking defensive formation, Emet and Rowan raced onto the Byzantium's bridge. Alarms were flashing. All around the frigate, Firebirds were emerging from hangars, preparing for war.

  Rowan trembled.

  It's here. The battle is here. It's—

  A message came in through the comm.

  "Sir, they're Menorians!" said the commander of the ISS Jaipur, the warship that flew beside them. "They come in peace."

  Rowan gasped and leaped forward. She pressed her hands and face against the viewport like a child gazing out the window at winter's first snowfall. She watched the incoming ships.

  "These aren't the scorpions." She spun toward Emet, grinning, then back to the viewport. "Menorian ships, sir!" Her eyes dampened and she laughed. "I read about them in Einav's memoirs. I never thought I'd see them."

  Hundreds of ships were flying toward them. They looked to Rowan like huge geodes. They were round, craggy, and grayish-blue. Their middles were hollow and filled with glowing purple crystals.

  "Azoth crystals!" Rowan said with wonder. "Huge ones! Azoth crystals the size of boulders!" She whistled. "I never knew they grew that large."

  She had read all about azoth crystals. Rowan loved dealing with technology—gears, microchips, cables, anything that could power a machine, be it a tiny robot like Fillister or a warship the size of the Byzantium. More than anything, even more than the prettiest fiber optic cable, Rowan found azoth crystals fascinating.

  Crystals that can bend spacetime, she thought.

  Even the azoth crystal inside the Jerusalem's engine—the largest such crystal in the fleet—was only about the size of Rowan's fist. Each of the Menorian ships ahead had a hundred azoth crystals larger than her entire body, filling their centers.

  For a moment, all her terror faded, and Rowan felt like her old self—filled with wonder.

  "Do you think they'll let me onto their ships to take a closer look?" Rowan asked, turning toward Emet.

  But he didn't acknowledge her. He stood at a control panel, opening a video call with a geode ship.

  An image of a Menorian appeared on the monitor. The alien reminded Rowan of an octopus. It floated in a tank of water, eight tentacles reaching out to eight control panels. The alien's skin was purple, but suddenly changed color to yellow, then flashed with blue and green lines.

  They communicate with color, Rowan remembered. Einav described that in her memoirs.

  The Byzantium's computer could translate over a thousand alien languages. Including, it seemed, Menorian. The computer picked up the color changes on the monitor, then spoke in Common Human.

  "Many colors and beams of light to you, humans! I am being Aurora, pod leader of this shimmering Menorian school of many. We have heard the murmur of waves and the songs in the great dry depths. They vibrate with your tales. So courageous you swim, no rock nor coral for shelter, to face the hunters in the blackness! We have flowed upon the currents to fight at your side, as we did once before."

  Rowan frowned. She wasn't sure she understood all of that, but she suspected that translating colors was challenging, even for computers.

  "We thank you kindly, Admiral Aurora," Emet said, relief clear in his voice. "You are most welcome."

  The Menorian looked at him and blinked. Her body turned cobalt, and azure circles spread across it, fading to yellow. The translator spoke.

  "You are Admiral Emet Ben-Ari! We have heard your song in the depths. Are you truly the podling of Captain Einav Ben-Ari, mistress of the tides, whom I served as navigator in the deep black?"

  "I am descended of Einav Ben-Ari," said Emet, "though it's been many generations."

  "I do forget how fast time travels for you beings of land and legs!" said Aurora. "For me, it has not been so many tides, for we travel fast upon the currents, moving nearly as fast as the light shines through the water. For me, it has not been so long. I still remember Einav Ben-Ari, mistress of the tides, and her memory is dear to me like sweet seaweed and plentiful plankton on a summer's dawn."

  Rowan gasped. She stepped closer to the monitor. "You're her!" Rowan said. "The Aurora, the one from the books! You knew Einav Ben-Ari herself! You flew with her on the legendary HDFS Lodestar, humanity's greatest flagship! She wrote about you in her memoirs."

  The octopus nodded. "Yes, young dry podling! I knew her well. She was kind and brave and feared no rushing currents nor predators. We Menorians hold her in high regard, and we still sing songs of Einav in our shimmering schools. Long ago, we Menorians fought with humans against the cruel predators in the dark. We are proud to fight with you again."

  The Menorian ships arranged themselves in formations alongside the human fleet. The two forces formed one army, as they had long ago. They orbited Helios, facing the darkness, waiting.

  Rowan took a shuddering breath and placed her hand on Lullaby. The brief moment of wonder faded into fear. With the extra ships here, there could be no doubt: Jade would pick up their signals. She would be heading this way. The greatest battle of Rowan's life awaited.

  "I'm ready, Jade," Rowan said, staring into the darkness. "I'm waiting. I love you, my sister. I love you so much. And I'm terrified that you'll kill us all."

  The darkness did not answer. Rowan stood, staring, waiting, her stomach knotted and her heart like a stone.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  They flew across the darkness—two starships, dented, scarred, barely flying at all.

  The Nazareth. The Rosetta.

  They had set out on this journey with four warships. Only these two remained.

  The two most important ships in the cosmos, Leona thought. Two who must find Earth.

  The crew had been working around the clock, repairing the hulls, replacing the ravaged shields, and working in the bowels of the Nazareth to produce more ammunition. But Leona knew: One more battle could end this dream.

  The emptiness spread around them, endless, pitiless. Leona sat on the Nazareth's bridge, staring at the vastness before her. They had been flying for nearly half an Earth year. They flew far faster than light, traveling millions of kilometers per second. And still the enormity of the cosmos spread before them. Sol, Earth's sun, was still too far to see with the naked eye.

  "All my life, I've been a wanderer," Leona said. "I grew up in space, never had a home of my own. For twenty-eight years, I've traveled from star to star. Yet I've never seen space in all its infinite vastness. Not like this."

  Ramses was sitting beside her. In one hand, he held a small, porcelain cup full of black coffee so thick it was practically syrup. In the other hand, he held a book—The Rise and Fall of Ancient Egypt, featuring the pyramids of Giza on the cover. He lowered the book, looked at Leona, and raised an eyebrow.

  "Never had a home of your own?" the captain said. "My darling, you've always had a home. We all have. It's called Earth."

  Leona scoffed. "Your home is just Egypt, I'd say. At least that's the only part of Earth you've ever shown interest in."

  "On the contrary, dear," Ramses said. "For the splendor of Egypt belongs to the entire globe."

  A monitor turned on
. Mairead's freckled face appeared.

  "Oh yeah, dumbass?" She puffed cigar smoke at her camera. "So why's your book called The Rise and Fall of Egypt—stress on Fall?"

  Ramses stiffened. He stared out the viewport toward the Rosetta, which Mairead had commandeered. Across the distance, she flipped him the bird. Ramses cringed.

  "Have you been eavesdropping, Firebug?" he said.

  "Muck yeah, I'm bored as hell here on the Rosetta. Your damn spaceship's boring and far too clean. Want a shift flying her?"

  Ramses rolled his eyes. "My shift is not for another hour. I intend to spend that hour sipping coffee, being far away from you, and reading my book. And, also, planning Egypt's rise to new glory."

  He switched off the monitor and sipped his coffee. Outside in the Rosetta, Mairead flipped him off again.

  Leona looked at the Egyptian. "You know, Pharaoh, you two need to learn how to get along."

  He grimaced. "Get along? With that wild, red-haired hooligan? Commodore, I've seen her bite her own toenails. It's barbaric. I even offered her my pedicure kit, but she said only pansies filed their toenails. I asked her what flowers have to do with it, but she only laughed."

  "Ramses, we're barely three hundred humans between these two ships," Leona said. "We don't know what's happening back on the front line. Traveling this fast, we can't talk to them. There's a chance that we, just three hundred, might be the only humans left. If that's true, it'll be our task to rebuild humanity on Earth. We need to get along."

  Ramses looked like he had drunk sour milk. "Heavens. Up to us to rebuild humanity? We'd have to breed."

  Leona cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so horrible? I recall you being something of a womanizer back at the fleet."

  He cleared his throat. "My genetic material demands a certain standard. I certainly hope you don't expect me to breed with the Firebug."

  Leona couldn't help but laugh. "For now, you two just don't murder each other. How's that?"

  The Pharaoh sighed. "Perhaps I've been something of an ogre. I'll try to make peace with the girl. I suppose she isn't that bad after all."