CHAPTER TEN
Leona soared through the air, legs kicking, leaving the balcony behind.
Below on the cobbled boulevard, the crowd of aliens looked up, wailing in shock. The humans who knelt, cleaning the road, raised their eyes and gasped.
Several winged reptiles flew above the crowd, cawing as Leona vaulted toward them. Leona grabbed one in mid-flight, wrapping her hands around its scaly legs. The creature squawked and flapped its leathery wings, and Leona tugged it downward, using the beast as a parachute. Her boots hit the cobblestones, and she released the reptile. The alien flew away, screeching.
The crowd erupted. Some laughed. Other aliens cried out in fear.
"She has a gun!" somebody shouted. "A pest with a gun!"
"Let her clean the road too!" cried a furry giant.
The Peacekeepers leaned forward. The tank turned, caterpillar tracks clanking, and its cannon faced Leona.
Leona glared at them all. "Stand back!" she said. "These people are no longer yours to torment. Stand back or my bullets sing!"
On the road, still kneeling, the humans looked up at her. Their eyes were wide. Their mouths hung open. The humans on this planet all looked similar. They had mahogany skin, long straight hair, and bright eyes that ranged from indigo to lilac. This community must have been living here for centuries, maybe even thousands of years, isolated from the rest of humanity, forming a new ethnicity. Before her was a new human nation, evolved to survive on this searing desert world.
During their long exile, the old races of Earth had intermingled and reformed, branching off into new ethnicities. Leona herself came from a mixed family. She had the olive skin and curly brown hair of her mother, perhaps remnants of Earth's old Mediterranean, South American, or Middle Eastern cultures. Meanwhile, her father and brother had pale skin and blond hair, echoes of Northern Europe. But those old distinctions no longer mattered, if they ever did.
Today all humans must unite, Leona thought. Today we are all one race, one species, and must stand together against our enemies.
Leona recognized the woman from the canyon, the one who had watched Leona fight.
She's a strange one, Leona thought, gazing at her curiously.
In some ways, the young woman looked like the other humans of Til Shiran. Her skin was dark brown. Her features were delicate. Her eyes were lavender. But there the resemblance ended.
Despite her youth, the woman's hair was silvery white, the color of moonlight. The aliens had forced the woman to clean the road with her hair. But even the dirt could not dull its shine. It flowed like strands of starlight. Silvery tattoos coiled across the woman's cheek, neck, and arms like filigree. They too gleamed. The girl seemed almost like a fairy creature, ethereal and enchanted, and even her degradation could not mar her grace.
The other humans were all older, some elderly, and Leona wondered what had happened to the other young people of this world. Had they all fled? Or been killed?
Leona reached her hand down to the humans.
"Rise, friends," she said. "I am Commodore Leona Ben-Ari, daughter of Emet, descendant of Einav the Golden Lioness. I'm an Inheritor. We are all children of Earth. You need no longer kneel."
Yet still they knelt. They lowered their eyes. Leona saw the bruises, the cuts. She knew that years of trauma had beaten the terror into them. Leona had emancipated humans before. Many still danced with the demons, years later.
Perhaps they will never be healed, Leona thought. Perhaps only their children or grandchildren will stand tall. For their sake, for these future generations, I must bring them all home. To Earth.
"Rise," she said.
The young woman with the silver tattoos rose first. Sand coated her white robes and white hair, but she still stood straight, shoulders squared. Runes were embroidered into her white robes with silver thread, ancient symbols of power. There was fear in her lavender eyes, but defiance too. Yes, there was courage to this one. There was power in those eyes.
"I am Coral Amber," the young woman said. "Weaver of aether. I saw you fight in the arena, Leona." Fire kindled in her eyes. "You are blessed by the light."
A weaver!
Leona suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. She had heard of the weavers, a strange religion some called a cult. She had always dismissed them, thinking them a bunch of kooks. Leona didn't believe in anything supernatural, no mysterious consciousness in the void, no numinous energy one could weave. Hers was a world of blood, sweat, and tears. Yet right now, there were more pressing concerns than theological debates.
The other humans glanced at one another, still kneeling, still afraid. Leona held out her hand to them.
"Rise, friends," she said. "Stand tall with me."
Before she could say more, one of the Peacekeepers clanked toward her. Though the Tarmarin already had natural scale armor, he wore the body armor of the corps. Each planet had its own color of Peacekeeper uniform. Here in the desert, they wore tan robes over black plate armor.
"Do you have a license for that rifle, pest?" the Peacekeeper said, clattering closer. "Only members of recognized Concord militias may carry weapons."
Leona stared at the alien. "I am an officer in the Heirs of Earth. And you will stand down."
"Heirs of Earth?" The Peacekeeper snorted and reached for his gun. "Damn terro—"
Leona put a bullet through his head.
The Peacekeeper slammed onto the cleaned cobblestones, dirtying them with yellow blood.
Leona looked around her, raising her smoking gun. "Peacekeepers, put down your weapons!" she shouted. "Your duty is to protect all sentient life." She gestured at the humans kneeling around her. "Here you have sentience! Here you have life to protect! And you have watched them debased and done nothing. You betrayed your duty. You acted like scorpions! You will disperse this crowd now, or I will—"
"You will do nothing!"
The voice rang through a megaphone. The tank came rolling toward Leona, caterpillar tracks crushing insects with a series of tiny pops. An obese Tarmarin sat atop the tank, so large his Peacekeeper armor did not properly close, and even his scales seemed ready to burst off. He pointed a clawed finger at her.
"Do nothing but clean the road with your fellow pests, that is," the Peacekeeper said, speaking through his megaphone. "Kneel, ape! Kneel and clean the road with your filthy rag of hair."
Leona could barely remember her mother. The scorpions had slain her years ago. But Leona had inherited the woman's olive skin, her courage, her honor—and yes, her wild mane of brown, curly hair that could not be tamed. Leona's hair was a reminder of the woman in the grainy old photographs. Leona didn't mind if people mocked her for being too tall, or for her scarred thigh, but this was her mother's hair, and it was not a filthy rag.
"No," she said.
The Tarmarin wheeled the tank's cannon toward her and the other humans.
With a burst of smoke, the cannon fired.
Leona's cybernetic implant kicked in.
Time slowed to a crawl.
Leona leaped aside as a shell flew toward her.
Before she could hit the ground, she fired Arondight, her loyal rifle.
Her bullet slammed into the tank's shell in midair. The shell sparked, careened toward the monastery, and burst.
Time returned to normal.
Leona's head exploded with pain. Every time she used her implant, it felt like her skull would crack. She cursed the serpentine surgeon who had installed the chip in a shadowy alley. It was subpar work. It felt like a coal in her skull. Yet it had just saved her life.
Where the shell hit, the monastery shattered.
Columns cracked and fell. The balcony—where Leona had stood only moments ago—crashed down. The roof caved in and the walls fell. Dust blew across the boulevard and bricks rained. Aliens screamed, and limbs reached out from the ruins.
Leona covered her head as rocks pelted her. A brick hit her shoulder, and she gritted her teeth.
Through the dust, she
reached toward the other humans.
"Run!" she cried. "With me—now!"
They were bruised and fearful, but they obeyed. Perhaps obedience had been beaten into them. They emerged from the cloud of dust and saw several Peacekeepers racing toward them, raising riot shields and guns.
Leona knelt, slammed Arondight's stock against her shoulder, and fired.
She put a bullet through one Tarmarin's head. Another Peacekeeper fired, and the bullet hit the ground an inch away from Leona, then skipped up to kiss her hip with hellfire.
She fired again.
Her bullet tore through another Peacekeeper.
Two more of the alien thugs remained. They raised their rifles. Leona tried to fire, but her gun jammed, full of sand, and she cursed, and—
"For Earth!" rose a high, clear voice.
Coral Amber leaped forward, her white robes fluttering, her platinum hair streaming like a banner. Across her skin, her silver tattoos shone, mystical runes emitting light.
The weaver pressed her wrists together and held out her hands. A funnel of air pulsed out from her palms and slammed into the Peacekeepers.
The aliens fell back, scales cracking.
Coral's tattoos faded.
Bloody hell, Leona thought.
Using the distraction, Leona managed to unjam her gun. She fired twice within a second, killing both wounded Peacekeepers.
Behind her, the dust was settling. She glimpsed the tank rolling their way.
"Up!" Leona cried again. "Run!"
She helped the humans forward. One old woman could only hobble, her back bent. Leona held the woman's arm, guiding her forward. Coral helped two other elders. They hurried down the road. When Leona looked back, she saw the tank rolling across corpses, crushing them under its caterpillar tracks. It was aiming its cannon again.
Leona cursed.
"Wait for me, ma'am," Leona said to the elderly woman. "I'll be right back."
She spun around. She raced toward the tank. The cannon lowered, aiming toward her. The shell could easily rip through her body and destroy the humans behind her. Leona slid forward on her knees, tearing her trousers, and grabbed a grenade from a dead Peacekeeper.
The tank fired.
Leona activated her cybernetic implant.
Time slowed down for her. She fired her rifle, trying to deflect this second shell. This time, when her bullet met it, the shell exploded in midair.
The shock wave slammed into onlookers, knocking them down.
Leona hit the cobblestones, howling in pain.
A meter closer, she thought, and that shock wave would have shattered every bone in my body.
The tank was burning but still moving forward. Leona sneered, ears ringing, skin bleeding. She ran, leaped up, and hurled her grenade.
It flew into the cannon's muzzle.
Leona ran back, dropped onto her belly, and covered her head with her arms.
An explosion shook the road.
Bricks rained. Columns tumbled. The tank cracked open, spilling fire. Peacekeepers ran from the vessel, burning. Leona's ears rang. She could barely hear anything but ringing and muffled voices. She was terrified to move, terrified that the shock wave had shattered her spine, torn her eardrums, left her dying.
She tried to rise.
Her head burst with pain. She had never used her implant twice in one day—let alone twice within moments. She fell back down.
More Peacekeepers came racing through the dust toward her, shouting, aiming guns, and Leona knew she was going to die.
Silver light shone.
A figure knelt before her. The air pulsed, blasting out in a funnel.
The Peacekeepers fell.
"Come, Leona!" Somebody grabbed her. "With us! Hurry!"
Coral! Coral was holding her, pulling her up. Leona leaned against the young weaver. The woman was shorter and slimmer than Leona but surprisingly strong. They ran together.
Two of the elder humans had died, but the rest joined them, ran with them. They left the crumbling road as drones flew in, as more tanks rolled toward them. Corpses burned. Through the cover of smoke and roiling dust, the humans raced into an alley, vanishing into the labyrinth of Til Shiran.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Leona and her fellow humans ran down the alleyway, and the Peacekeepers roared in pursuit.
Giant silkworms loomed around them, clinging to the alley walls, expelling their soft fabric. The humans were running through the fabric district. On the other side of the alleyway, storefronts sold the silk. Here in the back alley, the worms toiled, each the size of a man. The humans raced between the dangling strands of fabric, ignoring the huffing worms. When Leona glanced over her shoulder, she could see only strands of silk. She exhaled in relief.
We're hidden in here.
Buzzing sounded above. Leona glanced up.
Muck!
Drones. Peacekeeper drones.
She swerved onto another road, and the other humans followed. Awnings stretched out from shops, meeting overhead. They raced through shadows. Alien merchants with a hundred legs sat in stone nooks, selling spices, gemstones, and baubles from tin dishes. As Leona and the humans ran, one woman tripped over a dish, spilling thousands of clinking, living seashells. The merchant rose, cursing and shaking a few dozen fists. They ran on.
Finally they lost the pursuit. They paused to breathe under a bridge that spanned a rocky canyon. The sun began to set, and shadows cloaked them. A handful of cargo starships hovered idly above, spewing smog that hid the stars.
Leona allowed herself a few deep, shaky breaths. She took off her hat, shook sand out of her hair, and dabbed the sweat off her forehead. She looked at the others. Thirty-two humans. Most were bleeding, but the wounds seemed superficial. Dust and sand coated them. All eyes turned toward her.
"You're safe now," Leona said. "They won't hurt you. They—"
"They almost killed us!" said a balding man. He pointed a shaky finger at her. "Thanks to you."
Leona stiffened. "I helped you. They were forcing you to clean the streets, humiliating you, and—"
"We're humans." The old man scoffed. "We're used to humiliation. We spend our lives under their heels. Do you think that was new? I've cleaned their roads, their shit, their filth a thousand times. At the end of the day, I go home. I lost my pride years ago. This time I almost lost my life."
Leona shook her head sadly. "You don't have to live like a slave." She looked at them all, and she spoke louder. "You can have pride again! Humanity can be proud again! Look at me. I am human and I am proud. I am strong. I fight instead of serve. I am a warrior, not a pest. I am an Inheritor, and I believe that we can see Earth again."
"Earth?" said a woman. She laughed bitterly. "Earth doesn't exist. It's only a Ra damn myth."
"Earth is real," Leona said. "I've seen it in the Earthstone."
"Then show us!" said a man.
"I can't," Leona said. "The Earthstone was stolen."
The traitor stole it, she thought. She clenched her fists. David Emery, the man descended from the legendary Marco Emery, the Poet of Earth. He betrayed us. He stole it from us. The scorpions killed him, and the stone is forever lost. I wish the scorpions could kill him a thousand times.
"If you lost even the Earthstone, how can we trust you to keep us safe?" said a woman.
Leona looked back at them. She spoke softly. "I cannot guarantee your safety. The galaxy is dangerous. It's filled with aliens who wish us dead. And across the border, in Hierarchy space, the scorpions gather their troops, and they hate us humans more than anyone. Which is why we must find Earth! We must rebuild our homeworld, restore our culture, our heritage, our civilization, and our strength. We must nevermore cower and wash the streets like wretches. We must raise guns, armies, fleets. We must tell the galaxy that we can fight, that we are proud, that we are humans and Earth is ours!" Her chest heaved. She stared at them, breathing heavily. "Join me. I have a starship docked outside the city. I can take you with me
, give you a home among the Heirs of Earth. Give you hope. Instead of cowering, you can fight. Instead of kneeling, you can stand tall. " Tears filled her eyes. "Come with me. We've been lost for so long. For thousands of years, we wandered the darkness. Earth still calls us home."
Leona finished her speech, tears on her cheeks. The humans stared back at her, and she saw the same sadness in their eyes.
"Earth calls us home," whispered a woman. "We have not forgotten."
"Green hills and blue skies," said Coral, the mysterious weaver with silver tattoos. Her lavender eyes shone. "We'll never forget our blue marble. The aether shines a silver path before us. It leads us home."
Even the balding old man, the one who had scoffed at Leona, softened. He patted her shoulder. "You speak beautifully. You've melted this bitter old heart. But I'm old. Too old to fight. And this is a war that will last many years." He shook his head. "I'll return to my hovel. My grandchildren await. But tonight I'll pray for you. May Ra, the god of our lost star, bless you on your journey home to his light."
A woman approached next, head lowered. "I too must return home. My mother is sick and too old to travel. And I have children I must tend to. I can't go with you, Leona Ben-Ari, but I too will pray."
Another woman stepped forward, gray-haired and stooped over, but her eyes shone. "I'm old too, and I'm frail, but I'll join you, Leona. And I'll fight. I'm slow and bent, and my joints are stiff, but I can still fire a gun, and my eyes are still sharp. I've lived a long life. Let me die under the blue sky of Earth, or let me die in battle, fighting for our homeworld. What have I got to lose?"
Coral approached next. The weaver was the youngest in the group. She had probably never fought in a battle before today. But her shoulders were squared, her eyes strong, and her tattoos glowed.
"I will go with you, Leona, daughter of lions," Coral said. "It is the will of the ancients."
Leona nodded. "Someday you must tell me how this weaver magic works. It saved my life."
Coral smiled thinly. Her eyes shone with wisdom beyond her years. "I do not deal with magic, Leona, daughter of lions. Only with the holy light of the cosmos. That light shines inside you, and it burns bright."
The Heirs of Earth Page 10
