Emet wasn't ready for this.
He was supposed to fight Xerka on her homeworld, not here. Not on Earth. Not again.
His monitor blared a warning.
Enemy ships incoming. Only moments away.
Emet docked in his flagship and ran toward the bridge.
Ra damn it.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Bay was lying in bed, sound asleep, when his minicom vibrated and blared.
White Alert. White Alert.
Bay leaped up at once and grabbed his rifle.
The past few weeks had been heavenly. For the first time in years, he wasn't fighting every day. He had spent last afternoon working in the fields, then the evening volunteering in the mess hall, laughing with his friends as they peeled potatoes and boiled eggs. Finally he, Rowan, and Brooklyn had watched a movie in bed, then fallen asleep, entangled together.
A simple life. A good life. A normal life.
After so many years of pain, he had begun to feel something new.
Happiness.
White Alert. White Alert.
But the minicom was wailing. And the old instincts, carved into Bay over years of war, kicked in.
Rowan was up at once too. Her minicom was also blaring. They did not talk. Within a moment, they were both wearing their flight suits, their guns in their hands.
Brooklyn was struggling to rise too. But she was still clumsy in her human body. She tried to remove her pajamas, only to tangle her feet and fall.
Bay and Rowan ignored her. They read the statuses on their minicoms.
Both paled.
"Xerka is attacking." Icy fear filled Bay's belly. "We gotta get into space. Now."
Rowan nodded. "Come on!"
They ran out of the trailer.
The spaceport was only a couple hundred meters away. Bay and Rowan had purposefully chosen a trailer nearby. They needed to be close to their Firebird squads.
Already, fiery pillars were rising from the spaceport—Firebird squads soaring to join the battle.
Bay and Rowan raced toward the spaceport, arms pumping. Around them, Port Addison's civilians were leaving their trailers, queuing up along the streets, and descending into the communal bunkers.
"Wait for me!" Brooklyn cried, running behind. She was still wearing her pajamas. "Wait!"
"Get into the tunnels!" Bay cried over his shoulder.
"No way, dude!" Brooklyn said. "I've always flown with you to battle. That won't change now! I—whoa!"
She fell, bloodying her knees.
"Ra dammit!" Bay said. He turned toward Rowan. "Row, get into a Firebird! Raise your squad. I'll meet you up there."
She nodded. "Godspeed, Bay. I love you."
Rowan turned and ran into the spaceport.
Bay pulled Brooklyn to her feet. "Brook, listen to me! You can't fly with me this time. You have to get underground." He pointed at a bunker. "Join the other civilians."
Her eyes shone with tears. "I won't leave you, Bay! You can't fly without me."
"You're not a computer anymore!" he said. "Look at your knees. You're bleeding. You're wearing pajamas. You don't even have a helmet."
She had ripped her pajamas. Blood was dripping. Her tears flowed.
"I can't leave you," she whispered.
Bay groaned. He had no time for this.
"Just get underground!"
He turned and ran into the spaceport, leaving Brooklyn behind.
Dozens of Firebirds were roaring upward, vanishing into space. Two squads remained on the ground, fifteen starfighters in each. Bay commanded the Wyverns Squad, while Rowan commanded the Pterosaurs. The pilots were leaping into their cockpits. Rowan was already in her Firebird. She blew Bay a kiss, pulled down her canopy, and the fifteen Pterosaurs roared up to battle.
Bay leaped into his Firebird and buckled himself in. Around him, the other Wyverns were firing up their engines.
Bay was about to pull his canopy shut. But then he saw Brooklyn running across the tarmac.
"Bay!"
"Oh, for Ra's sake!" he said.
Brooklyn reached his starfighter and leaped onto the ladder. She climbed into the cockpit with him.
"I'm coming with you, so get used to it."
Bay's Firebird was a two-seater, and Brooklyn took the seat behind him. Bay groaned. According to his computer, Xerka's fleet was emerging from hyperspace at this very moment. The rest of his squad was antsy, their brothers and sisters already up in space.
Bay had no time to argue.
He closed the canopy, pulled down his helmet's visor, and fired up the engines.
The Wyverns—fifteen deadly Firebirds—soared through the sky, engines roaring.
The G-forces were astronomical. Bay had trained to withstand them. Brooklyn had not. She groaned behind him and passed out.
Within three minutes, they were in space.
Bay leaned forward, eyes narrowed, and streamed forward in the darkness. The Wyverns joined the fleet.
Hundreds of ships were arranging themselves in battle formations. Frigates in the center. Corvettes at the vanguard. Firebirds on the flanks. Bay led his squad into position. Nearby, Rowan's Pterosaurs were flying ahead of a frigate.
For a moment, they flew in silence.
Bay could not see the enemy with the naked eye. But his HUD was updating him.
A thousand enemy warships were flying in.
"My Ra," he whispered. "It's too soon. Our spies said Xerka wasn't ready to attack yet." He winced. "We were supposed to invade her homeworld before she could."
Behind him, Brooklyn was coming to. She shivered, still wearing her pajamas. "Bay? Is this space?"
"Yeah, Brook."
She looked through the cockpit. She trembled. "It looks different. I'm used to seeing electromagnetic waves. Gravity wells. Spacetime curvatures. Ultraviolet light and dark matter. Countless streams of data. But with human eyes … Oh Bay. It's so empty. It's so dark. It's so cold."
"It won't be cold for long," he muttered. "The enemy is here."
He could see them now.
Lights in the distance, coming in fast. They were still a few thousand kilometers away. They would be here in seconds.
A thousand Rattlers. Long, scaly warships. They looked like giant serpents, their portholes like red eyes, their cannons like fangs, their engines like the tails of rattlesnakes.
They were a deadly force, but Bay frowned.
"She's only sending a thousand ships."
"Only?" Brooklyn said. "Really. Is that all?"
"I see you've picked up sarcasm," Bay said. "Yes, a thousand Rattlers is a force to be reckoned with. But this is barely ten percent of Xerka's full armada. And these are smaller Rattlers—dogfighters and bombers, not troop transporters. This isn't an invasion force. This isn't a fleet to conquer a planet. Not like last time."
"What does that mean?" Brooklyn said.
"Two possibilities," Bay said. "Xerka might still be preparing her full invasion fleet, but she wants to deliver a quick hit now. To smack us hard, to deter us from invading her world, to put us on the defensive. A preemptive strike. And then later, while we're nursing our wounds, she'll come conquer Earth. But there's another possibility. Xerka might not want to conquer Earth at all anymore. Maybe these Rattlers are here to nuke us. To destroy Earth for good."
Brooklyn shuddered. "I don't like either option. I like the second one a lot less."
The Firebird's comm crackled to life. Emet's voice emerged from the speakers.
"All HDF ships! This is President Emet Ben-Ari. The enemy is here. Do not let them reach Earth. Forward—to battle!"
"All right, Brook," Bay said. "Here's for old time's sake."
He shoved down the throttle to full afterburner. With the other Firebirds, he blasted toward the enemy.
The Rattlers stormed to meet them.
"Do not let a single Rattler reach Earth!" Emet announced through the speakers.
Bay understood.
There were no
more basilisks on Earth.
No more living shields.
Every one of those enemy ships would be carrying a nuke.
Too soon, Bay thought. Too soon! We're not ready. Rowan hasn't become a weaver yet, hasn't built a shield around Earth. We haven't yet launched enough defense satellites. We need more time!
Panic began to swell in him. He forced a deep breath.
Disaster always strikes when you're least prepared. You face it nonetheless.
He flew closer with his fleet. Closer still. Ten thousand kilometers separated the fleets. Then one hundred. Then only a hundred kilometers between them.
"Fire!" Emet cried.
The human fleet unleashed its fury.
Bay and his fellow Firebird pilots fired their missiles. The frigates fired shells and photon bolts. The geode-ships beamed rays of searing light. The starling ships fired everything from spinning blades to electric nets.
From the Rattler fleet shone a thousand laser beams.
Bay yanked the yoke, dodging a beam. Other lasers slammed into ships around him. A Firebird exploded. A frigate tore open, revealing decks full of screaming soldiers. A starling ship spun, wing sliced off, and slammed into a corvette.
In the distance, Earth's fusillade was hitting the Rattlers. Explosions bloomed across the enemy fleet. But the Rattlers kept firing.
Bay swerved again, dodging another laser beam. The laser carved open a ship behind him, slicing through bulkheads and soldiers alike. Bay pulled the yoke again, swerving around another beam.
"Bay, you're yawing too slowly!" Brooklyn said. "Yaw faster, tilt slower!"
"Shut up, backseat driver!" he said, dodging another assault.
The fleets were only kilometers apart now.
Bay braced himself.
With showers of light, blazing fire, and shattering metal, the fleets slammed together.
Warships rammed into warships. Decks tore open. Humans and basilisks spilled into space, flailing. Rattlers—the basilisk's hulking frigates—plowed through the HDF's formations. Copperheads—the enemy's scaly starfighters—swarmed everywhere, firing on Earth's Firebirds.
A dreadnought commanded the enemy fleet—a massive warship, dwarfing anything the human flew. Cannons lined its sides, pounding Earth's warships. The gargantuan Rattler lumbered forth like an angry bear, barreling through a line of corvettes, heading closer to Earth.
"Wyverns, with me!" Bay said. "Let's take on that dreadnought."
His Firebirds gathered behind him. The squad flew toward the dreadnought.
"Fire!" Bay said.
They fired together.
Thirty missiles flew toward the dreadnought, pounding the shields, tearing a hole through the hull.
The dreadnought's cannons moved, focusing fire on the Wyverns Squad. Copperheads emerged from its hangars. The small, scaly starfighters came swooping in. Their lasers fired.
"Dodge those Copperheads and focus fire on the mothership!" Bay said. "Missiles into that hole in its shields! Take that dreadnought down!"
More missiles flew.
Copperheads fired lures, destroying the missiles before they could hit their target.
Bay cursed. The Copperheads flew closer. Green lasers flashed, pounding the squad. A Firebird exploded beside Bay. Its pilot screamed on the comm, then went silent. A second Firebird shattered, and the pilot ejected into space, only for lasers to tear her open.
Bay tried to reach the dreadnought, to finish the job, but the Copperheads were everywhere. He gripped the yoke with his prosthetic hand, the trigger with his good hand. The Firebird's rotary cannon roared. Bullets slammed into Copperheads, nicking their shields. Bay drove forth, slamming between Copperheads, knocking his Firebird into a spin.
"Bay, you are horrible without me!" Brooklyn cried.
"Shut up, shut up!"
He fired more bullets. Around him, more Copperheads and Firebirds were dogfighting. The dreadnought was moving ahead, plowing through more corvettes.
"Oh no you don't," Bay said.
He shoved down the throttle. He spurted forth on afterburner, leaped over a Copperhead, and nearly slammed into another. He saw an opening and unleashed two missiles.
They flew toward the dreadnought.
Bay sucked in air, willing the missiles to enter the hole in the shields.
The missiles slammed a few meters off target, cracking the shields but not entering the Rattler.
"Ra damn it!" Bay said.
The rest of his squad was still battling the Copperheads. Several Rattlers were now pushing through the human lines, making for Earth. Humanity's ships were pounding them, desperate to stop their flight.
"Rowan!" Bay said. "I could use some help! You there?"
Her voice came through the comm. "Busy, pancake!"
He saw her flying above. Her squad was battling several Rattlers. The Pterosaurs had suffered significant damage, losing five Firebirds so far.
"Bay!" Brooklyn said from the backseat. "If you just yaw a bit differently, you can adjust your angles to—"
"Brook, I told you, no more backseat flying!" Bay said. "You shouldn't even be up here."
Brooklyn groaned. "Oh, shut up! You stupid, pigheaded man! I used to be a starship, for Chrissake. I know how to fly better than you!"
She unhooked her seatbelt and climbed into the front seat, her elbows jabbing him.
"Brooklyn!" Bay said. "What the hell? I'm trying to fight a battle!"
"Shut up!" She sat on his lap and grabbed the yoke. "You fire the weapons, I'll fly! My God. Even as a human I have to do your flying."
"Brooklyn, get into the back seat! I can't fight with you on my lap."
"Shut up!" she said. "Just fire the guns!" She began manipulating the yoke and throttle. "Bloody hell, this is harder with human hands and no sensors."
"See? Not so easy!"
"Shut!" She elbowed him. "Up!"
She executed a barrel roll, spinning between several Copperheads. Bay fired the rotary cannon, pummeling the enemy. The Copperheads shattered, scattering scales across space. Brooklyn adjusted their flight, charging forward, then spinning around to pursue the enemy from behind. Bay fired again, pounding bullets into the enemy's exhaust pipes. More Copperheads exploded.
Lasers came sweeping their way.
Ten beams or more.
"Brook!" Bay cried.
They could not escape this barrage.
They were dead.
Bay winced.
"I see 'em," Brooklyn said, voice surprisingly calm. She raised the Firebird, swerved, dipped, rolled. A beam clipped the edge of their wing. Another seared their underbelly.
Their Firebird passed through the gauntlet with only a few scrapes.
"Holy shit," Bay muttered. "You're good at this."
"Told ya."
The rest of the Wyverns Squad followed, mimicking Brooklyn's maneuvers. They formed an assault formation.
The dreadnought was flying ahead, locking horns with several human frigates. The hole in the dreadnought's hull faced Bay.
"Gotcha," Bay whispered.
He fired a missile.
His squad added theirs.
The missiles streaked forth. Several slammed against the rim of the hole.
Bay's went through.
The missile drove deep into the mighty Rattler and exploded inside.
Fire blazed.
More explosions bloomed. A chain reaction flared across the ship.
The mighty dreadnought tore in two.
Cheers rose from the squad. The Firebirds flew around the two halves of the dreadnought, pounding them with more fire, tearing the ship into smaller pieces.
"Good flying, Brook," Bay said.
"I know, dude."
"Take us a bit higher."
The Firebird spiraled upward, emerging from the cloud of debris. Bay surveyed the battle. Several rogue Copperheads were making their way through, flying toward Earth. But corvettes were chasing them, tearing them down. The bulk of the basi
lisk fleet was still stuck here in space, unable to reach Earth's orbit.
"Our lines are holding," Bay said. "We're giving them a pounding, Brook."
"I know, what happened?" Brooklyn said. "We've never withstood enemy assaults this well before. Are the basilisks drunk?"
Bay smiled thinly. "We've been training hard these past few months. Not just you and me. Our entire fleet. The first time Xerka invaded, we were a bunch of refugees. Scared, hungry, struggling to cobble together an army. Well, we have a proper army now. A proper chain of command. Experience. We're much better fighters."
Hope kindled in him. He remembered how during the last war, each Rattler could take out several human ships. Today, if anything, humanity's fighters were superior. Bay's chest swelled with pride.
"You're no longer attacking a group of refugees, Xerka," he said. "You're attacking a proud army defending its homeworld."
Brookly began flying back toward the fray. "Dude, less talking, more fighting!"
They kept fighting.
They fought for hours.
Every moment, more starships shattered. Every moment, a few Rattlers or Copperheads broke through and raced toward Earth. Every time, the Firebirds chased them, shot them down in Earth's orbit. As the Firebirds fought, ammunition shuttles raced between them, restocking bullets and missiles. Thankfully, Earth had spent half a year building up a massive arsenal.
As the battle continued, many starships fell.
Many pilots died.
As he fought, grief filled Bay at the loss of life. But he also felt pride. Because they were proving themselves here. They were winning this battle. They were showing the cosmos—Earth was a force to be reckoned with.
He was anticipating victory when space wobbled.
With flashes of light, two hundred new Rattlers emerged from hyperspace.
Bay stared, losing his breath.
"Muck," he whispered. "It's not fair. It's not fair!"
"Goddamn it!" Rowan cried, her voice emerging through his speakers.
The new Rattlers charged into battle, and Bay screamed.
Earth's fleet was already damaged, its pilots weary. The new Rattlers slammed into them with fire and fury.
The Legacy of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 6) Page 14
