Earth Honor (Earthrise Book 8)

by Daniel Arenson

  EARTH HONOR

  EARTHRISE BOOK 8

  by

  Daniel Arenson

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  AFTERWORD

  NOVELS BY DANIEL ARENSON

  KEEP IN TOUCH

  Illustration © Tom Edwards - TomEdwardsDesign.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  Captain Ben-Ari stood on the bridge of the Lodestar, storming across space, a fleet of enemy saucers flying in pursuit.

  "Full power to our engines!" Ben-Ari said. "We must reach Earth before them!"

  Lights flashed across the bridge. The crew was bustling, moving between workstations, manipulating holographic monitors. Alarms blared. Statistics scrolled across viewports. The bridge was dome-shaped, a planetarium showing a full view of space all around them. Even the floor displayed the stars below. In the distance, Ben-Ari could see them. Thousands of them. Dark saucers.

  The grays, she thought. Super-evolved humans from the future. And they want Earth.

  She looked ahead. Sol, Earth's sun, was just a distant speck. Even flying at top speed, the Lodestar was still two days away.

  And Earth didn't know what was coming.

  Earth needed those two days to prepare.

  Or Earth would fall.

  Ben-Ari spun toward her science officer.

  "Professor, how is work commencing on that wormhole?"

  Professor Noah Isaac was working at three holographic monitors, typing in equations, mumbling under his breath, and scratching notes into a notebook. His black hair was disheveled. He wore his HOPE uniform, the navy-blue cotton bedecked with insignia and brass buttons. He kept tugging at the outfit, as if he missed his professorial corduroy pants and tweed jacket.

  "Progress, progress," the professor mumbled. "Astounding physics, really. To open a communication wormhole—from warp speed! It's never been done. The math is staggering."

  Ben-Ari smiled thinly. "If anyone can do it, my dear professor, it's you."

  He flashed her a smile, then returned to his work. Professor Isaac, after all, had invented the wormhole, had won a Nobel Prize for it ten years ago. Yet his wormholes had always been static, used for passing faster-than-light signals between two fixed locations. The Lodestar had a wormhole generator, but they could only use it while still. They were now flying at warp speed, bending spacetime around them. They could not stop, not with those saucers on their tail. And they needed to warn Earth.

  Ben-Ari clenched and unclenched her fists. Earth's fleet didn't know the saucers were coming. Many starships would be in maintenance, others orbiting distant colonies. Earth was asleep.

  We need to sound the alarm. We need to rouse the entire might of Earth.

  Sudden pain in her arm stabbed her. She winced. She had broken that arm only recently, willingly snapping the bone to escape Marino's grip. The Lodestar's doctor had fused the bone with bio-glue, then sealed the limb in a thin, hardened cast that fit like a second skin. She could move her arm. She could function as normal. But the damn thing still hurt.

  Ignore the pain for now, she told herself. You'll suffer far worse than a broken arm if those bastards reach Earth before we can raise the alarm.

  She glanced back at the saucers. They were gaining on them. Damn.

  "Aurora, can you give me more speed?" Ben-Ari said.

  The Lodestar's pilot swiveled her seat toward Ben-Ari. Aurora was the only alien crew member. Her eight tentacles reached out to eight monitors, controlling the ship's navigation and flight. Her boneless body was indigo but soon flashed bright blue, and golden dots appeared across it, fading into silver lines. Menorians, intelligent mollusks from a distant world, had no vocal cords; they communicated with colors. A camera attached to Aurora's seat picked up the colors and emitted a robotic voice, translating the hues.

  "We are swimming through the cosmic ocean as fast as we can, mistress of dark waters," Aurora said. "We could swim faster, but our Great Shell would grow dark and cold, and our bubbles of air would drain. We have only enough of the small shells for the High Mollusks, not for the podlings who huddle among our tentacles. Even then, we might not swim fast enough."

  Ben-Ari contemplated this message. Menorians loved metaphors. Aurora's translation device still struggled.

  She means the Lodestar can fly faster if we shut off life support, Ben-Ari thought. There are enough spacesuits—small shells—for the bridge officers. The rest of the crew would suffocate.

  Ben-Ari shook her head. "No. We have five hundred people aboard the Lodestar. I won't condemn them to suffocation just to gain a little extra speed."

  Not yet, at least. She shuddered.

  She turned back toward her science officer.

  "Professor?" she said. "Progress?"

  Professor Isaac winced, bit his lip, ran another calculation, then leaped into the air like Archimedes from his tub.

  "Got it!" the professor exclaimed.

  Relief flooded Ben-Ari. "You can open a communication wormhole to Earth? From warp speed?"

  Isaac nodded. "Yes. Well, not exactly. Not as we are now. We require certain hardware modifications. Right now we're flying inside a bubble of warped spacetime. We cannot open a wormhole—a funnel through spacetime—while inside this bubble. Yet if we leave the bubble, we return to normal spacetime, and we slow down, and the saucers catch us. What we must do, therefore, is open the wormhole along the very edge of this bubble." He raised his notebook, showing a diagram. "Imagine a big soap bubble. We're inside. We dare not pop this bubble. But if we can mount hardware on the thin film of soap forming the bubble . . ."

  Ben-Ari nodded, understanding. "How do we do it?"

  "The shuttle," said Isaac. "We must fly the shuttle right to the edge of our warp bubble, extend a generator into regular spacetime, and open a wormhole from there. It'll require extraordinary flying and pinpoint precision. If the shuttle veers too far out, it will fall out of our bubble. The shuttle is likely to shatter. It might even pop the entire bubble."

  Ben-Ari nodded. "I'll fly the shuttle. Professor, meet me in the launch bay as soon as you're able. Give me the hardware I'll need."

  Aurora flashed a hectic red. "Mistress of dark waters, allow me! I'm the best swimmer in the cosmic ocean."

  Ben-Ari nodded. "Exactly. That's why I need you to keep piloting the Lodestar. I'll go. I've clocked more hours on the shuttle than anyone else here."

  "Your bony tentacle—" Aurora began.

  "My arm is patched together quite nicely," Ben-Ari said, ignoring the pain. "Hold down the fort."

  She left the bridge.

  She walked down the Lodestar's central corridor, shoulders squared.

  Inside her, demons howled, ghosts of past wars, of haunting dead. She shut them down.

  Earth needs me. I will not fail. I will sound the alarm.

  On her way to the shuttle bay, Ben-Ari paused, then took a detour to the armory. This was a military mission. She would dress for war. She doffed her blue HOPE uniform. She replaced it with a black spacesuit; the fabric was flexible enough to let her fight, strong enough to withstand the vacuum of space. She slung a plasma rifle across
her shoulder, and she strapped several grenades to her belt. She added a jet pack, standard gear for battles in space, useful in case of ejection. She paused for a moment, her visor raised, and looked at herself in the mirror. Once more—a soldier. Once more—war.

  She entered the shuttle bay. The Lodestar had already lost one of its shuttles battling the grays. The remaining shuttle stood in the hangar, charred and dented from its past battle. A small vessel, no larger than a sedan.

  Ben-Ari tapped her communicator. "Professor?"

  "Putting together the hardware, Captain. I'll be there in twenty minutes."

  "Be here in ten," Ben-Ari said.

  She waited. Every minute—an eternity. Every minute—the saucers growing closer. She could see them through the viewports. She could imagine the creatures within. She could imagine Nefitis, foul queen of the grays, upon her decaying throne, licking her thin lips, craving her prize.

  After two devastating wars—first against the scum, then against the marauders—Earth was still reeling. Most of the fleet was gone. What starships humanity still flew were scattered across the solar system.

  Earth was virtually undefended.

  The grays knew to attack us now, Ben-Ari thought. Of course they did. She inhaled deeply. But so long as I live, I will fight. I am Einav Ben-Ari, a major of the HDF, a captain of HOPE. I fought the scum emperor and the marauder hosts. I will face you too, Nefitis. And I will defeat you.

  A pang of guilt stabbed her. Things were different this time, of course. She had caused this war. She had created the grays, marooning the Nefitian monks on a desert planet where they evolved into monsters, nursing their hatred for a million years. She should have slain them. But she had shown them mercy. Now Earth might fall—and it was her fault.

  Ben-Ari clenched her fists.

  "I started this," she whispered. "I will end it."

  Finally the professor rushed into the shuttle bay. He carried a bulky device. It looked like a radio dish with microchips, cables, and motors attached.

  "Here you go, Captain," the professor said. "A little wormhole generator. Inside is a small azoth crystal, the size of an apple seed. I took it from our main wormhole generator. It's too small to power a starship like the Lodestar. But it can still punch a hole through spacetime. You must fly to the rim of our warp bubble, stick this device into open space, and punch that hole. I already coded the proper coordinates into the machine. It will extend a wormhole straight to President Petty on Earth."

  Ben-Ari nodded. "Show me how the controls work. Run a simulation with me. Quickly."

  The professor handed her a remote control with a small monitor. He reviewed the functions with her. His voice was gentle, somehow patient even during this mad chase. It was like their lessons back in his quarters again, him teaching, her listening raptly.

  I'll miss those lessons, Ben-Ari thought. The hours she had spent in his room, surrounded by his books and model ships, listening to him reveal the wonders of the cosmos, had been among the best hours of her life. May we have many more such hours.

  "Got it," Ben-Ari said. "I'm ready."

  They mounted the generator's dish onto the shuttle's roof, securing it with heavy bolts. Ben-Ari holstered the remote control.

  "Fly the shuttle to the top of the warp bubble," the professor said. "Let the dish emerge from the bubble, only the dish, while keeping the shuttle inside. Remember: anything heavier than the dish will rip the bubble, so do not fly too high! Do not let the shuttle's roof touch the bubble! When you're all set up, activate the wormhole."

  She nodded. "Understood."

  She placed one foot inside the shuttle, prepared to fly out.

  "Einav." The professor spoke softly.

  She turned back toward him. "Professor?"

  He stepped closer. He placed a hand on her shoulder. "Godspeed, Captain."

  She nodded, smiling, her eyes suddenly damp. She remembered how he had embraced her after Marino's betrayal, had stroked her hair, had comforted her. That too was a warm memory, another moment she wanted to experience again.

  "Thank you, Noah, my dear professor," she whispered, then turned and entered the shuttle.

  She flew out from the Lodestar. At once she engaged her side thrusters, keeping her shuttle close to the Lodestar. She inched upward. This would be a delicate operation, a hummingbird flying alongside an albatross. She flew higher, passing along the Lodestar's starboard. Through her porthole, she saw the logo of HOPE emblazoned on the Lodestar's hull: the blue sphere of Earth, her moon circling in orbit.

  Ben-Ari raised her chin, the sight giving her strength. She knew that humanity was flawed. Humanity had polluted Earth, had butchered many other lifeforms inhabiting that fragile world. Humanity had butchered its own people, genocide after genocide for thousands of years. Humanity was filled with greed and hatred and violence. But Ben-Ari knew that it could be noble too. She would fight for such nobility, embody it here in the darkness.

  She rose to hover atop the Lodestar, flying only meters above the starship. She could just make out the bubble of spacetime around them. The bubble itself was invisible, but it bent the starlight, shimmering. Ben-Ari flew her shuttle a little higher. A little higher still. Coordinates flashed on her monitor.

  Her communicator crackled to life.

  "You're doing well, Captain," emerged the professor's voice. "Nice and easy does it. I'm here if you need me."

  She rose several more meters, approaching the rim of the bubble. She adjusted her flight, wincing. Her left arm was still in a cast, stiff, itchy, and hurting badly now. She rose just a meter higher. Another meter. Slowly . . . slowly . . . One centimeter off, and she would fall out from the warp bubble. If she were lucky, her shuttle would shatter into countless pieces, instantly killing her. It she were unlucky, she would tumble into regular spacetime and float aimlessly. Within an instant, the Lodestar would be a million kilometers away, leaving her marooned forever in the darkness.

  "All right. I've reached the edge of the bubble," Ben-Ari said. "I'm going to ascend one more meter, so the dish on my roof emerges into regular spacetime."

  "Keep it nice and slow," the professor said. "Don't fall out. We can't catch you if you fall."

  Ben-Ari smiled grimly. "No safety net. That's how I work best."

  "Slow and steady and you'll get it done," the professor said, voice calm through the communicator. "I believe in you, Einav."

  She gently guided the shuttle up.

  The dish on her roof nudged the bubble's skin—then broke through.

  Ben-Ari held her breath.

  The dish emerged into regular spacetime. The warp bubble remained intact.

  She exhaled.

  "Dish has made the breach," she said into her communicator. "Bubble looking steady. My shuttle's roof is still half a meter below the rim. I'm beginning orientation."

  She held her remote control. Its screen displayed an animation of the dish. She hit buttons, pointing the wormhole generator toward Earth. The dish locked into place, then dilated.

  "Beginning wormhole creation," she said.

  She held her finger over the button. She took a deep breath. She was prepared to punch a hole through spacetime, to blast a tunnel toward Earth, allowing instant communication. She was prepared to light the beacons, to rouse Earth's might.

  Once more, Earth's best will fly to war. Once more, we—

  An alarm blared—coming through her communicator.

  An alarm aboard the Lodestar.

  "Professor!" she cried. "What—"

  "Einav, behind you!" he shouted through the communicator.

  She stared into the rearview monitor. She saw a flash of red. She couldn't see clearly from here.

  "Professor, wha—"

  Below her shuttle, explosions rocked the Lodestar.

  The bubble of spacetime jiggled, jostling the shuttle.

  Ben-Ari cursed, gripped the yoke, and lowered the shuttle a few meters. The dish emerged back into the warp bubble. She gazed ag
ain into the rearview monitor.

  The blood drained from her face.

  A dozen saucers—small and red and flashing with lights—had reached the Lodestar. Their guns blazed.

  Ben-Ari stared in horror. These were not the larger, bulkier saucers, the dark machines of thick metal. These were small, agile fighters, large enough for only a single pilot, moving at terrifying speed. They whirred like tops, ringed with blades.

  Ben-Ari sneered. She could not return to the Lodestar yet—she hadn't yet opened the wormhole! She had to warn Earth!

  The enemy saucers fired again. More blasts hit the Lodestar. The starship's shield shimmered, nearly cracking. The Lodestar was beginning to turn around to face the attackers. The bubble of spacetime was wobbling madly. There was no way Ben-Ari could now gently guide the dish upward, not without her shuttle falling out of warp and vanishing into deep space

  She took a deep breath, eyes stinging.

  If those shuttles destroyed her dish, Earth would receive no warning.

  She could not wait for the battle's outcome. She had to send the message. Now.

  "Professor," she said into her communicator, voice cracking. "You have command of the Lodestar. I am sending that signal. Do not come back for me. Continue to Earth. That is an order." She raised her chin. "Godspeed, Noah."

  "Einav, wai—"

  She soared.

  She burst through the wobbling film of the bubble.

  Her stomach lurched. Lights flashed across her eyes. She nearly lost her lunch. For a horrifying instant, her consciousness seemed to float outside her body, and images of Nefitis flashed before her, cruel and grinning, her pyramid rising behind her.

  Ben-Ari screamed and gripped the yoke.

  The shuttle careened madly.

  Don't shatter, don't shatter, don't shatter . . .

  The streams of starlight slammed into points around her.

  The Lodestar streamed away in a flash, moving at many times the speed of light, crossing millions of kilometers per second. Within an instant, it was gone. With flashes of light, the saucers followed, vanishing too.

  Silence fell.

  Ben-Ari floated alone in space, lost in the vastness between the stars, light-years away from any world. She sat in a small shuttle without any food or water, with enough air for only a day or two. She was millions of years away from civilization.