Earth Fire (Earthrise Book 4)

by Daniel Arenson

  "One more," he said wearily. "Maybe a bit farther from the subways. Less competitive."

  "There's no point."

  Marco was inclined to agree, but he only said, "We have no other choice. We have to keep trying."

  They walked onward.

  "No job? Sorry."

  "Sorry, sir, only with pay stubs."

  "Go, go! No rent!"

  As the sun was setting, they sat on a bench in a park. A few withered trees grew in glass tubes, barely visible through the grime. Dark buildings rose all around them, and cars raced by in the shadows. They sat in silence for a long time.

  Finally Marco spoke softly. "I can almost understand her."

  Addy was too weary to lift her head. "What the fuck are you talking about, Poet?"

  "About Lailani." He stared at an alien beetle the size of a cat scurrying by. "How she used to live before the army. She was homeless until boot camp. When we talked about how tough boot camp was—the food, the tents, everything—Lailani once got mad at us. She said we knew nothing. But I know now. At least, I got a small taste of it. Of what she survived for eighteen years until the army. And I think I understand why she left me. Why she went back to the Philippines after the army. To help the children there."

  Addy leaned against him and placed her hand on his thigh. "Dude, I'm sorry she dumped you."

  He smiled thinly. "And I'm sorry you broke up with Steve to come here. Actually, no I'm not. I hated him."

  Addy laughed. "He's not that bad."

  "Addy, he thought Plato was a form of putty. He asked me if Berlin was an outlet mall. He had never heard of Vikings. We played Trivial Pursuit. It scared me."

  She laughed harder. "All right, so he's not the brightest. We can't all be geniuses like you."

  He sighed. "Some genius I am. I got us into this mess. I must be dumber than Stooge."

  She stared at him, suddenly serious. "Marco, you do realize that Stooge has a doctorate in physics, right? That he suffered a trauma in the war, that Steve has been helping him recover?"

  "Oh." Marco lowered his head, suddenly ashamed. "I had no idea. I'm sorry. I—"

  Addy burst out laughing again. "Got you." She elbowed him hard. "Stooge—a scientist! And I'm the Queen of England." She affected a high-pitched British accent. "Heavens, you naughty boy, you are quite the gullible chap."

  "Ha ha, very funny." Marco rose from the bench. "Making fun of a poor couch potato. Not nice!" Street lamps were turning on, revealing more apartment buildings in the distance. "Come on, Addy. One more attempt before we call this bench our bed. Maybe those buildings over there."

  "I don't see any vacancy signs."

  "Worth a try anyway. Big buildings. Come on, Ads. Move your royal ass."

  Exhausted, filthy, stinking and sweaty inside their atmosuits, they trudged across a concrete courtyard toward the complex. Three buildings rose here like three walls, ugly Brutalist structures, the metal balconies leaking rust. A statue of Admiral Evan Bryan, hero of Earth, rose between them, splotched with bird droppings. Evidently, the landlord had never heard of—or didn't care about—Bryan's corruption. Marco shuddered as they passed by the statue. He remembered the lair of the scum emperor, remembered shooting the admiral there. Even here on Haven, he couldn't escape that war.

  "Hello, friend!" A short, slender man approached Marco, wearing no atmosuit but breathing through an oxygen mask. Well groomed, he wore dress pants and a pink button-down shirt. "You look like you could use some company. Here, here, have a look!"

  A second man approached, this one burly and ugly, his face covered with warts. He wore torn jeans and a grimy denim jacket. With sausage fingers, he held out a photo album. It contained photos of timid Asian women, perhaps Thai or Filipino, some of them young, most of them well into their forties or fifties.

  "Which one?" the slick, shorter man asked. "Choose any one you like!"

  When Marco glanced behind the men, he could see the women huddling in the shadows under a balcony. They wore oxygen masks, but Marco could see that one had a bashed, bandaged nose. Another had a black eye. They were covered in filth, aging, rotting away.

  "Cheapest girls in town!" said the man.

  "No thank you," Marco said, hurrying by, ignoring the men's disappointed noises. Addy glanced back at them, then hurried after Marco toward the three concrete buildings.

  A bearded man, wearing no mask, was digging through a garbage bin outside the central building. He fished out a needle, gave Marco and Addy a frightened look, then vanished into the shadows. Another one of the cat-sized rats scuttled by.

  "Nice place you found us, Poet," Addy said.

  "Come on. It's better than a park bench."

  They stepped into the central building. Thankfully, despite the late hour, the superintendent answered the buzzer. He was a one-eyed, middle-aged man with stubbly cheeks. He wore a tool belt, military dog tags, and a stained wife beater. Several stars were tattooed onto his arm, denoting several scum killed.

  "Come on in," he rasped, the hint of rye on his breath. "You two look more miserable than the dead monk-rat I fished out of the water cooler this morning. Smell worse too. Name's Grant. Come."

  He led them down a carpeted corridor and into his office.

  Marco's breath died.

  "Holy fuck," Addy whispered.

  The super's office was a shrine to the war. A framed poster above the desk displayed a squad of soldiers, all raising their guns, above a dead scum. A young Grant, still with both eyes, grinned from the photograph. A rifle hung on another wall in a glass casing, a plaque beneath it proudly announcing: Three scum killed. Several scum claws hung on racks, and an actual scum head—antennae and all—was mounted above a beaten leather chair. The flags and symbols of platoons, companies, and battalions covered every space of wall that remained. The only non-military decoration was a poster of All Systems Go!, displaying the same anime schoolgirl Marco had seen in the subways, a katana in her hand. But even that poster hung in a frame decorated with empty bullet casings.

  "So, Grant," Addy said, "let me take a wild guess. You're a veteran."

  Grant barked a laugh. "What gave it away? Yeah, twenty-five years in the army. Retired master sergeant here. Fought in the big one. Fought on Abaddon itself. Served under Admiral Bryan, and I don't care what the papers say, the man was a damn fine soldier. He shook my hand once. Yep. Killed me three scum in the war. That bastard hanging over the chair?" Grant snorted. "He's the bugger that took my eye. So I took his goddamn head."

  "Impressive work," Addy said, looking at the mounted head. "That's a terrestrial scum too. A male soldier, yes? Thirty-six legger?"

  "You're goddamn right it is," Grant said. "Meanest sons of bitches that ever came out of space. You know your aliens. What about you two? You fought in the war? You look like you might be old enough, but hard to tell with the grime covering your faces."

  "We fought," Marco said softly. He didn't like talking about the army. He didn't like seeing this scum head. Too many memories. Too much pain.

  "You're goddamn right we fought!" Addy said, already picking up Grant's mannerisms. "We fought on Abaddon itself. Went deep into the hive. Blasted the scum emperor to bits."

  Grant barked a laugh. "Now now, young lady, no need to exaggerate. Serving on Abaddon is an honor in itself."

  "We did kill the scum emperor!" Addy said. "Tell him, Marco."

  "Addy, please," Marco said, squirming. "We don't want to bore him with war stories."

  Grant stared at them, his one eye narrowed. "Hang on a goddamn minute. You said your names are . . . Marco? Marco Emery? And Addy Linden?" He gasped, reached to his desk, and grabbed a framed photograph. "Goddamn. Didn't recognize you with the grime on your faces. It is you!"

  Marco looked at the photograph. It showed him and Addy back during the war, wearing battle fatigues, still with corporal insignia on their sleeves.

  "Fucking hell," Addy said. "Seriously, my ass is not that big. The camera adds ten pounds, you kno
w."

  Grant's eye teared up. "By God. You'll excuse me if I shake your hands." He grabbed Addy's hand first, then Marco's, shaking them firmly. "You two are personal heroes of mine. Never in all my days did I think I'd get to meet you. I don't care what the papers say. I don't care what some pampered broadcasters say on the videos. You two are heroes through and through. It's my deepest honor to have you here, in my office, two of the soldiers who killed the scum emperor himself."

  "It's all right," Marco said softly. The man looked ready to weep.

  "Please, please, sit down," Grant said. "Excuse my rudeness. Let me get you some coffee. Or something stronger? And how about some food?"

  "Actually, we just came to ask if you have an apartment to rent," Marco said. "I know there's no sign outside, but—"

  "Do you have any bacon bits?" Addy interjected. "How about hot dogs? We'll also require a rake."

  Grant didn't have any hot dogs or bacon, but he did pour them both whiskey—the good stuff, he said, not from his cheap bottles—and gave them each some beef jerky to chew. Real meat, imported all the way from Earth, he bragged, not the synthetic crap they made in test tubes.

  "We don't have any pay stubs," Marco said, holding his cup. "We don't have jobs. But once we have shelter, a place to shower, some dry clothes, we'll go looking for work. We're smart and hard workers, and we'll find a way to pay you. We might be late the first month, but—"

  "Any war hero is welcome to stay here," Grant said, cutting him off. "Say no more. My wife's pa owns the building. I'll make sure the old man doesn't cause any trouble. We have only one apartment left, and I'll be honest, it ain't the best one. But I'd be honored to have Sergeant Emery and Sergeant Linden staying with us."

  "Just Marco and Addy is fine," Marco said. "That's all we are now."

  "No." Grant shook his head. "You're more than you know. You're worth so much to so many. I pray that someday you realize that." He wiped his eye. "Come now. I'll show you the place. You'll have a warm shower and a roof over your heads tonight."

  He took them to the tenth floor, where they entered an apartment. The wooden floors were scratched. There were no curtains and the windows faced brick walls. The bathroom was old, the sink loose, the kitchen rusty. Empty bottles of pop still stood on a counter. But there were two small bedrooms. There was no mold. And Marco knew this was home.

  "You'll have to sleep on the floor tonight," Grant said. "But I'll grab you a couple spare blankets from my place, and a couple pillows from my couch, if you want them. And I'll order you guys a pizza. On me. Least I can do."

  "Make sure there's bacon on the pizza!" Addy said, hands on hips, then stepped forward and hugged the one-eyed veteran. "Thank you."

  They sat cross-legged on the living room floor that night, devouring the greasy pizza Grant had ordered them. Marco left his crusts for Addy, who scarfed them down, then tilted the empty box over her mouth, letting the crumbs slide in.

  "You're going to turn into Stooge one of these days you know," Marco said.

  "What are you talking about?" Addy belched. "I'm a petite, beautiful girl. Not some mindless animal who lives for food."

  "A piece of bacon is stuck to your cheek," Marco said.

  She gasped. "Face-meat!" She gobbled it down.

  Marco looked around him at the apartment. "Well, it's not a palace. And there's no furniture. And the windows face brick walls. But it sure beats last night, doesn't it? This will be home for a while. Maybe a few months. Maybe even a few years. But we'll get our house eventually. Someplace that's green. Like the old song."

  Addy bit her lip, looked down at her knees, then into his eyes. "Marco," she said softly.

  "Uh oh. What? You almost never call me Marco."

  She thought for a moment, then blurted out, "I'm never going to sleep with you again. You know that, right?"

  "What?" He frowned and rose to his feet. "What are you talking about?"

  Her cheeks flushed. She stared at her feet. "Remember? A few years ago?"

  He sighed and sat back down. Of course he remembered. He had never forgotten. How could he? Even to this day, sometimes in his sleep, the memory resurfaced as a dream: he and Addy, trapped on a distant space station, having scared, lonely, urgent sex.

  "Addy, we were young," he said. "We were afraid. We didn't know if we'd live another day."

  "I know." She twisted her fingers. "It's just . . . sometimes when we talk about buying a house together, it's like we're husband and wife or something. Or boyfriend and girlfriend. And . . . you know I can't be that to you, right? Even with Lailani gone." She finally dared meet his gaze. "You're like a little brother to me."

  "I'm a few days older," Marco said.

  "That's not what I mean. I know we're not really siblings. But we've been living together for so many years—since we were kids—that you feel like a little brother. And I loved that night. I loved having sex with you. It was the best sex I ever had. Really. Better than with Steve or anyone else. But I can't do it ever again. Even if we live here together. Even if we buy a house. I just wanted you to know."

  "I know," he said, throat suddenly hoarse.

  She scooched toward him and leaned against him. "I still love you a ton, though. More than anyone in the world. Always. Always." She mussed his hair and grinned. "My silly little brave hero."

  He brushed crumbs off her shoulder. "Love you too, you Stoogette."

  "Remember the coins?" she said. "The ones I bought the subway tokens with? From the coin purse you laughed at?"

  He nodded. "I remember."

  "Well, you mocked me for having a coin purse. But those coins were special to me. Remember the one time you came with me to a hockey game?"

  "Yes, I only went with you because I lost a bet," Marco said.

  "You were miserable there. I know." Addy nodded. "But I think you had fun at the end. I bought us hot dogs and chips and ice cream. And you didn't understand the game at all, but you laughed at my jokes, and you blushed so much when the kiss cam turned toward us, when I kissed you with everyone watching."

  He cringed. "I still haven't gotten over that."

  "The Leafs lost, but I had so much fun, Marco. It was the best game I ever went to, because it was with you. Because I was able to share something I love with you. To show you why I love it. To see you have some fun, even if it was just a bit. The coins in that purse were change from that day, from the hot dog and ice cream I bought you."

  His eyes widened. "You saved the coins? All that time?"

  "And others too. A few coins were from the poker game we once played with your dad. Other coins were change from the vending machine at boot camp. Remember how we found a vending machine in the desert? How we bought snacks, sat on the sand, and remembered home? That was my coin collection, my collection of memories with you."

  Marco placed a hand on her knee. He spoke softly. "And you spent them."

  She wiped her tears. "I had to. So we could find a home. So we could make new memories. And that's what we're going to do here in Haven. Make new memories. Not bad ones, not like the ones from the war. But good memories, like that hockey game. Like the vending machine. Like this, right here, right now."

  "Well, we're out of coins, but you can still save these crumbs." He pointed at the floor.

  Her eyes lit up. "Floor pizza!"

  Macro cringed as she ate them.

  They slept in the living room that night, using Grant's sofa cushions and two spare blankets—one which they placed below them, the other above them.

  Addy fell asleep first, and Marco looked at her for a moment. During the day, she was all poking elbows, groans, loud laughter, eyes that could switch from love to fury and back again in an instant. In her sleep tonight, she was peaceful, not twitching with nightmares as they sometimes did. He pulled her blanket up to her shoulders.

  Good memories, he thought. Let's make a lot of them.

  He slept a deep, dreamless sleep for twelve hours.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN
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  Earth floated ahead, a blue marble, growing closer.

  Home, Ben-Ari thought. So small. So fragile. So close to falling.

  Flying on the Saint Brendan, she saw so few defenses around Earth. Only five years ago, at the height of the war, the Iron Sphere system had surrounded the planet—a massive network of military satellites. Among them had flown thousands of warships, patrolling Earth's orbits.

  Today, most of that was gone.

  Ben-Ari saw a handful of warships. A few Firebirds. Half a dozen military satellites. The Scum War had cost more than all previous wars combined, going back to the first battles fought with sticks and stones. More lives, more dollars, more resources had been spent on defeating the scum than on any project, military or civilian, in human history. Today Earth languished in poverty, half its colonies dismantled, most of its ships and satellites grounded, millions of its children orphaned.

  Today Earth is vulnerable, Ben-Ari thought. And today the marauders muster a fleet greater than any the scum had ever flown against us.

  "Captain, the stealth engine won't keep us hidden forever," Kemi said, sitting beside her in the pilot's seat. "Not this close to the planet. By now, Earth will know that we're wanted. They'll see us. They'll blast us apart."

  Ben-Ari nodded. "The time for secrecy has ended. Now it's time to see if an old friend is still loyal."

  She thought back to that day four years ago. Earth had been reeling from victory . . . and its cost. The scum had been defeated but cities lay in ruin, millions lay dead. In its anguish, Earth had sought heroes. They had found them among Ben-Ari and her platoon, the warriors who had plunged into the imperial scum hive, who had slain its emperor. In a ceremony broadcast across Earth and her colonies, the president of the Alliance of Nations—the most powerful person on Earth—had pinned a medal to Ben-Ari's chest. Ben-Ari had spent a weekend with the president on her ranch, but under the shade of willows, by the soothing lake, she had only seen the fire and blood, had found no peace, and the medal had felt heavy on her breast.