Earth Honor (Earthrise Book 8)

by Daniel Arenson

  She aimed the wormhole generator at Abyzou and turned it on.

  Nothing happened.

  Abyzou's eyes narrowed. And he began to laugh.

  "Is this your doomsday weapon?" He tightened his grip on her, crushing her armor. "You have failed, Einav! You—"

  "Eighty percent," she whispered.

  "—you will scream for all eternity in—"

  "Ninety percent," she whispered.

  "—and your screams shall echo in the halls of—"

  On the device's display, the characters appeared: 100%

  And the wormhole materialized.

  It was narrow. Only a few atoms wide. It punched but a pinprick through Abyzou's face.

  And then it began to suck in the rest of the skull.

  With a shower of blood, Abyzou's skin and flesh ripped. His skull crumpled inward and blasted out in a thousand pieces.

  Ben-Ari fell to the ground.

  The world thrummed.

  The sky turned red.

  The ground cracked.

  The air shrieked. Deafening. The howl of ten thousand demons. Thunder boomed as the sky split open.

  She clung to the device. She held it firmly with her one remaining hand. In the vacuum of space, it had barely vibrated. Here it was like holding Satan's hand.

  The wormhole stretched outward. It ate through the scorpion mecha, pulling it inward, belching it out. The wormhole stretched farther. It slammed into a saucer, crumpling it, ripping it out of existence.

  Ben-Ari was wounded. Badly. Dying. But she rose to her feet, still clinging to the wormhole generator.

  "Doomsday," she whispered.

  Her tears flowed, and she swept the device from side to side, lashing the wormhole like a sword the length of the cosmos.

  Wherever the beam swept, reality shattered.

  Saucers were sucked into the wormhole, shattered, and fell. Hundreds of saucers bent, split open, and blasted shattered pieces across the cosmos. Remains fell burning to the ground.

  Ben-Ari lowered her beam.

  The device thrummed in her hand, nearly tearing free. It was dangerous. Too dangerous! If the wormhole hit the ground, it could dig a hole through Earth. The planet itself could curve in on itself, then shatter. Doomsday. Doomsday.

  I believe in you. You can do this.

  The voice of the professor. Of her friends. Of her father. Of the millions who had fallen.

  She lowered the beam, bringing it but a meter above the surface.

  And she swept it from side to side, plowing through the lines of gray warriors.

  Thousands of chariots. Thousands of grays. The wormhole ate them all. Their burned, mangled remains fell.

  She released her finger from the button, deactivating the device. The funnel faded away. With wisps of light, the wormhole vanished.

  Ben-Ari dropped the generator from her trembling hand. It thudded onto the ground.

  Your father is dying, Abyzou had said. She remembered. Dying. Not dead.

  She tried to walk. She fell. She crawled. She reached him on the hillside. Her father.

  He lay in the grass, a hole in his chest. His skin was ashen, his eyes sunken.

  "Einavi," he whispered, voice hoarse.

  "I'm here, Father." She crawled closer and placed her hand on his cheek. "I'm here."

  His breath was shallow. Blood speckled his lips. Every word seemed a struggle. "Einavi, I'm sorry." His tears fell. "I'm sorry that I wasn't a better father. A better man. I'm so proud of you." His voice was so soft she could barely hear. "I'm so proud. I love you so much."

  "I forgive you," she whispered, trembling, weeping. "I forgive you, Father. I love you."

  He gazed into her eyes, and he smiled, and he breathed no more.

  She lay down beside him, her arm gone, her breath slowing. She closed her eyes.

  Voices flowed from the muffled afterlife.

  "It's her! The Golden Lioness!"

  "Major Ben-Ari! Major, can you hear me?"

  "Doc! Doc, we need you!"

  They held her. But she slipped away. There was no more pain. Smiling softly, she faded into blackness.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Marco's jaw unhinged.

  Here inside the ancient mecha—a living Taolian!

  The alien looked as ancient as his home. His mane was long and white, and golden fur coated his weary, wrinkled face. Heavy brows shadowed his sad amber eyes. His mouth was missing the fangs depicted on statues of younger Taolians. He stood stooped over, holding a staff. An orange robe draped across him, richly woven, embroidered with red dragons, and his slippers curled up to points. An amulet hung around his neck, its right half shaped like a sunburst, the left like a moon.

  "Greetings, children of Earth," the Taolian said. "I am Ling, son of Xe Shuan, Guardian of the Holy Empire of Taolin Shi, defender of her fallen-yet-eternal king."

  Addy waved. "Yo. I'm Addy. Got any tacos around here?"

  Marco stepped forward, placing himself between her and the Taolian. He bowed his head. "Forgive us, sir. We did not realize you live here. We did not mean to disturb you." He glanced up at the old alien, wonder growing in him. "We did not realize that anyone survived the flood five hundred years ago."

  The old Taolian nodded, eyes sad. "A few of us did. Now only I still live. Come, my friends. I will serve you food and tell you old tales. Five hundred years?" Ling shook his head sadly. "I did not realize it had been so long . . ."

  Ling took them to what he called Kaiyo's Heart, a room in the mecha's chest. Scrolls hung on the walls, displaying delicate calligraphy and watercolor landscapes. Bamboo dividers separated the room into four chambers. One chamber seemed dedicated to meditation. Marco saw a soft pillow to sit on, a bronze bell, and—surprisingly—a copy of Baba Mahanisha's The Way of Deep Being. One chamber was a bedroom, another a dining room. The fourth chamber contained bronze statues of a Taolian woman and three children.

  "You've been living here all this time?" Addy asked. "For five hundred years?"

  Ling nodded. "I was a young soldier when our world flooded. A pilot of this vessel. I watched the waves." His eyes dampened. "I watched the water flood the world I had vowed to protect. And for five centuries, I did not abandon my post. I remained true to my charge. I still defend my world, even if all its splendor is drowned."

  Addy's eyes softened. She stroked the old alien's mane. "You must have been very lonely."

  "My family lived with me at first." The Taolian looked at the bronze statues. "They are still with me."

  "They're beautiful statues," Marco said. "Beautiful ways to remember your family."

  The old Taolian raised his bushy white eyebrows. "Statues? No, child of Earth. These are not statues. They are my family."

  Addy leaned closer to Marco. "He's a bit loony," she whispered into his ear.

  Despite his age, Ling's ears were sharp. "Loony? No, child. I am but a practitioner of the old ways. My wife and children chose this fate. They entered a deep state of meditation. And I entombed them in bronze. They are still there, still inside, still alive. Oh, their hearts have stopped beating. Their bodies inside are now nothing but bone. But those are mere physical things. Their souls are alive inside the bronze shells. Their souls will remain there for eternity, deep in meditation, at peace."

  Marco and Addy shared a glance. He saw the horror in her eyes. He felt it too. To bronze your wife and children? To leave them to die horrible deaths because of some superstition?

  "You mean, they were alive when you bronzed them?" Addy whispered.

  Ling nodded. "They are living still. In spirit. Their souls are eternal."

  Marco felt like gagging. He could not imagine a more horrible death. But then he remembered Kemi. He remembered how the yurei had placed her soul into a shell. Perhaps he was hasty to judge.

  "But here I'm babbling on like a forgetful elder!" Ling said. "Come, friends, come, let me serve you food and tea."

  He led them to a low table, and they sat on cushio
ns. Marco volunteered to help, and they brought out steaming tea and a dish of seaweed and fried fish. Ling explained that the mecha had a water filtration system, and that he could find all the food he needed in the ocean. As they had suspected, there was indeed another door—a small airlock in the mecha's helmet, only a few meters below the water's surface. From there, Ling could retrieve water, catch fish, and soak up sunlight.

  "Mmm, my appetizer is delicious!" Addy said, gobbling down the meal. "What's the main course?"

  Marco cringed. "Addy, you just ate the main course. For all three of us."

  Her cheeks flushed. "Um . . . Poet! Go fishing!"

  Ling laughed. "There is more, my children. Much more. I forget the appetites of youth."

  Marco nodded. "Addy eats like a teenager. An elephant teenager."

  "I do not!" She bristled. "Elephants only eat peanuts, and I eat lots of things." She raised her chin triumphantly. "I knew something you didn't."

  "Actually, Addy, elephants consume a varied diet of—"

  "Smarter. Than. You." She nodded.

  Marco turned back toward the old Taolian, who was serving more fish and tea. "Ling, does this mecha still work? Can it fly?"

  "Indeed it can," Ling said. "I have dedicated my life to maintaining it. It is aging, perhaps. And it has lost some of its luster, and I have become too old to oil and polish the deepest gears. But it can still fly. Still fight."

  Marco felt another burst of hope.

  We found a mighty weapon. A way to fight the grays.

  "So why did you stay here?" Addy said, looking through a porthole at the water. "You could go anywhere! Find a nice dry world! Maybe one with other aliens." Her voice softened. "You spent so long here . . . Didn't you ever want to leave?"

  "Many times." Ling lowered his head. "I was tempted. To find another world. Even to visit my friend, Baba Mahanisha, on Durmia. Yes, children. He is my friend. Does that surprise you?" He laughed softly. "We are both the last of our kinds. Both too proud to leave. He remains on Durmia, guarding his temple, even though all else lies in ruin. I remain here on Taolin Shi, for I have sworn to guard my planet, and I am still bound to my vows. Two aging soldiers. Two stubborn old fools."

  Marco glanced at Addy. She bit her lip, sadness in her eyes. He looked back at Ling, and he spoke softly.

  "Ling, I'm sorry to tell you this. Baba Mahanisha has passed away. We were there with him. He was peaceful at the end."

  Ling looked up, and his bottom lip wobbled. His eyes dampened. He lowered his head, and a tear flowed.

  "This grieves me. He would visit me here every year. He would place coins on the seabed in memory of the fallen. Such guilt filled him for what he had done." Ling wiped his eyes. "It was Baba Mahanisha who flooded this world, who destroyed Taolin Shi. But only because I had destroyed his land, flying this mecha in war." He shook his head, tears flowing. "Two old fools. Two old soldiers who should have died long ago."

  Addy embraced the old Taolian. "We are all fools as soldiers. We are all mad when the fire rages." She kissed his wrinkly cheek. "We only grow wise once peace has come, once it's too late, once the fire has already burned us. You are no fool." Embracing the Taolian, she looked at Marco. "You are a veteran."

  She's speaking to Ling, but also to me, Marco thought, smiling sadly. Yes, she's smarter than she lets on. Maybe she's right. Smarter than me.

  "Ling, you speak English," Marco said. "Do you know much about Earth?"

  "My people visited Earth thousands of years ago," Ling said. "My own ancestor, a noble warrior, joined the expedition. A great Earthling king met them, and they spent many days together, learning about each other. A descendant of that great explorer, I have studied all that I could about Earth."

  "China," Marco said in wonder, gazing around at the hanging scrolls. "Your people visited China. You inspired their culture. Or they inspired yours."

  "Perhaps," Ling said. "Many of those legends are lost. Yet I know that my ancestor wrote words of much praise about Earth, that he saw your species as having great potential, great wisdom, but also too much aggression, too much fear. Much like the Taolians. Much like the Durmians." The old alien reached out and held their hands. "Learn from us, children of Earth. Learn from Baba Mahanisha and old Ling. Learn from our worlds that are gone. Do not let this happen to Earth."

  Marco thought about the new war. About the grays, a future race of highly evolved humans. Somehow, this war seemed more shameful than the ones before it. This was not humanity fighting against evil space bugs. It was humanity fighting against itself, against its own greed and wickedness.

  Perhaps this is the war in which we carve out our evil, reject it, slay it, Marco thought. A war between the good and evil within us.

  He spoke to Ling, and he told him about the wars against the scum and marauders, of the war against the grays, against the wickedness of man. He spoke for a long time as Ling listened.

  "And so we've come here for aid," Marco said, completing his tale. "To find the fabled mechas. To use them to defeat the grays—to reject this dark path of evolution. Will you let us take the second mecha, the one that is empty?"

  Ling patted his hand. "You will take both. One for you. One for Addy. You face the great choice I did not. The fork in the road. One path leads to light, a path along which humanity can grow wiser, nobler, bring peace and knowledge and art to the cosmos. Another path, one of fear and hatred, that leads to the grays. For the sake of life, for all life is holy, and for the sake of my ancestors who visited your land—take these mechas. And strike out the evil."

  Addy frowned. "But Ling! Your vow! You vowed to remain and guard Taolin Shi."

  He nodded. "And I shall. I will not fly with you to Earth. I will remain in Taolin Shi." He turned to look at his bronzed family. "With them."

  Addy gasped. "Ling! You're not going to . . ." She covered her mouth. "Turn into a statue?"

  Marco cringed. The thought of the wise old Taolian coated in bronze, rotting away inside his shell, chilled him. He wanted to respect the alien's culture, but how could he stand by and watch such horror?

  "Ling." He placed a gentle hand on the Taolian's shoulder. "We do not wish to doom you to death. Gift us only one mecha. Or fly with us. You needn't die for our war."

  Ling smiled and placed his hand atop Marco's. "I will not die, child. This way, I will live eternally. This is why I have clung on to life for so long, the last of my kind." Tears flowed into his mane. "Finally I will have eternal life. Will you help me? Will you pour the bronze atop my form, and will you place my family and me in our ancient temple? You will be giving me the gift of immortality. Of eternal blessing."

  Marco took a deep breath. Witnessing such a ritual was bad enough. But to participate?

  "Ling, I—" he began.

  "For five hundred years, I've lived here alone," Ling said. "I have perhaps another few years in me. Maybe less. Don't let me die an old man, lonely, ashamed. I give you the gifts of Kaiyo and Kaji. Give this gift to me."

  Marco nodded, eyes damp, lips tight. "Tell me what to do."

  Ling nodded. "Come with me."

  He led them to a prayer room in the mecha's belly. An idol rose on an altar, shaped like a Taolian monk in deep meditation. The materials for the ritual were already here: chunks of raw bronze, cauldrons to melt it, and plaster to form a cast.

  It was here that he must have embalmed his family, Marco thought.

  Addy glanced at Marco. She leaned closer.

  "Poet, I don't know about this," she whispered. "It feels like murder."

  "More like assisted suicide," Marco said. "Maybe we should stop this."

  But Ling was going ahead with the ritual. Embers glowed at the idol's feet, and Ling warmed swirling green tea. He downed the cup.

  "I drank the holy pine needle tea," he said. "The poison is now in me. It will guide me gently to the world beyond. It will purify my body, so that the worms and maggots cannot touch me. Come, children. We don't have long. Help me melt the bron
ze."

  Marco and Addy shared another glance.

  I don't like this, Marco thought. I want to respect other cultures. But this feels wrong. Gruesome.

  Then he thought back to Earth, to his own people. He thought back to the military hospitals he had been in. He remembered seeing mortally wounded patients, their limbs and faces blasted off, blind, mute, deaf, burnt, living in agony. Yet kept alive. Kept in agony for years because of the terror of death.

  Are we any less brutal? Are our death rituals any less horrifying?

  He nodded. "We'll help him, Addy."

  It was a long ritual. Ling chanted prayers for hours, and he drank more of the poisonous tea. He seemed to feel no pain. His meditation deepened, and he entered a trance.

  And Marco and Addy followed his instructions. They applied the plaster cast. They poured the molten metal. And when their work was done, he sat before them, cross-legged, embalmed. Coated in bronze, Ling appeared peaceful, a soft smile on his lips. Inside, he was surely already dead.

  "May your soul live forever," Marco said. "Here in the world you vowed to protect. Be with your family. Be at peace."

  He and Addy put on their spacesuits. They carried Ling and his family out into the water. They placed them inside a temple on a hill, facing an archway with a view of a coral reef.

  Marco and Addy hovered for a moment in their spacesuits, gazing at the statues.

  "Poet," Addy said.

  "Yeah?"

  "When I die, can you turn me into a statue?"

  He sighed. "No, Addy."

  "But why? I want to be a statue!"

  "I'll bury you inside a hot dog statue, how's that?"

  They began swimming back toward the mechas.

  "I like that idea," Addy said. "Can the hot dog be holding a bottle of mustard and pouring it on himself? And I can hold a sign that says: 'Too hot to handle.'"

  "Fine, Addy."

  "And can you be buried beside me inside a giant hamburger?"

  "No, Addy."

  She pouted. "But I don't want to be lonely!"

  "I'm not being buried inside a hamburger."

  "Fine, fine!" Addy said. "How about a giant taco?"

  "Addy!"

  She grinned. "And the taco can have googly eyes and look a little like you. And it can be holding a sign that reads: 'You taco to me?'"