Blue hair billowing, her eyes mad, Jade swung her arm. The blow hit Leona, tossing her into the air. It felt like a starship plowing into her. Leona hit the ground hard, ears ringing, seeing stars.
Jade walked toward her, eyes ablaze.
"Die now," Jade said, claws raised.
Leona screamed and fired Arondight. Bullets slammed into Jade, doing her no harm. Other Inheritors were firing too, and Jade screamed. The bullets were hurting her, bruising her, but could not penetrate her alabaster skin.
She doesn't have human skin, Leona thought. She has hard skin like a scorpion's exoskeleton.
Jade leaped up, soared the height of a guard tower, then slammed down by Leona. Cracks spread across the ground. When Leona tried to rise, Jade grabbed her and tossed her back down. Her claws pierced Leona's thigh.
Leona screamed.
"Yes, old friend," Jade hissed and cackled. "I'm going to take you to my master. We'll skin you together. I will wear you as a coat. Did you truly think you could trick me, defeat me with a handful of pests and peashooters? A hundred strikers are on their way here as we speak! Your species will die! But you will not die today, Leona Ben-Ari. Not for a long while. I'm not done hurting you. You will be the last human, and then you will join the rest in hell!"
Leona trembled, bleeding, the pain blinding. She managed to speak through a clenched jaw. "There's only one thing you don't know, Jade."
The creature—perhaps she was no longer human—grinned madly. "What is that, pest?"
Leona struggled to cling to consciousness.
"Inside the deathcars . . . I . . . brought . . . Firebirds." She smiled shakily and hit her comm. "Firebirds—launch!"
Her head rolled back. Down the road, she saw the distant deathcars. Their hangars opened. The Firebirds burst out, wings unfolding, and soared.
Leona let her head hit the ground, and she smiled.
The Firebirds stormed overhead, firing their machine guns. Bullets tore into guard towers, knocking them down. Jade looked up at starfighters, screeching. Leona mustered all her strength and kicked her with both legs.
Jade flew back into the barrage of Firebird bullets.
Leona leaped up, grimaced in pain, and ran at a limp. She raced back toward the deathcars. Her marines ran with her. The huts were already emptied of prisoners; the survivors had made it into the deathcars.
Behind her, Leona heard Jade screaming. She looked over her shoulder to see her old friend standing on the road, trying to run, only for the Firebirds' barrage to keep hitting her, to knock her down again and again.
"Die now, traitor!" Ramses shouted from his Firebird. His starfighter soared, then swooped, pounding Jade with more bullets.
"We got strikers incoming!" Duncan shouted, waving at the marines from the deathcars. "Get your wee backsides over here!"
The sky rumbled.
Shrieks tore the air.
Leona looked up and saw them plunge through the dark clouds.
Strikers. The scorpions' reinforcements had arrived. The triangular ships swooped and unleashed their plasma.
The Inheritors ran.
Plasma slammed down behind them. Huts shattered and melted. A few of the slower Inheritors screamed, burning, falling. Leona ran as fast as she could, leg bleeding, fire clutching her coat. When she turned around, she could no longer see Jade, just the wall of fire.
"Come on, soldiers, come on!" Duncan reached out to them.
Leona leaped into the deathcar. A handful of other Inheritors followed. Most of the Inheritors were already inside, along with hundreds of gulock survivors. The other deathcars were rising into the sky, joining the Firebirds. Leona limped toward the helm, grabbed the controls, and blasted skyward.
They rose through smoke and clouds. Below them, the gulock was blazing, the towers falling, the wall crumbling. Above her, strikers filled the sky. There was too much smoke to see clearly, but Leona thought there were dozens of the enemy ships.
She hit a button, firing the deathcar's crude cannons. Bolts of plasma flew out and slammed into a striker. Around her, Firebirds and other deathcars were firing too. Flames and bullets sliced the clouds. A striker charged ahead, plasma bolts pumping out, and a deathcar shattered, burned, and spilled survivors. Leona cried out in horror, watching a hundred captives—rescued only moments ago—fall to the burning camp. They thumped against the courtyard and huts.
Roaring, Leona fired her deathcar's cannons, hitting the striker. Ramses's Firebird added its bullets, and the striker fell, crashed into the camp, and an explosion blasted upward. The sky shook. Another deathcar shattered, and prisoners burned, and Leona thought the world was ending.
But she kept soaring.
Around her, seven other deathcars rose with her.
Through fire and smoke and shards of metal, they breached the atmosphere and flew through open space.
Leona's hands were shaking. She was still bleeding. She forced herself to remain conscious, to keep flying. They were still too near the planet to use their warp engines. She tried to fly outward, to put distance between her and the gulock, but she saw them above.
Her heart sank.
More strikers, charging their way.
Too many to fight.
All this—just to die in the darkness. Leona stared at the incoming death, eyes wet. To die in space. Cold. Alone. Far from home. I'm sorry, Dad. I'm sorry, Earth. I failed you.
The strikers charged from every direction, trapping the handful of deathcars and their three Firebirds. Leona prepared to fire her guns, to die fighting for Earth. The system's small star shone ahead, cold and distant, and she thought of Earth's sun, and how she would never see its light glimmer upon the ocean.
The strikers fired, and the plasma rolled toward them.
And from the starlight, like eagles rising from dawn, they emerged.
Leona wept.
Around her, her fellow warriors cheered.
"The Inheritor fleet," she whispered.
The ISS Jerusalem led the charge, cannons blasting. The other battleships roared forth, all guns blazing.
The strikers spun toward fleet, and the barrage hit them, and the scorpion ships shattered.
A signal from the Jerusalem reached Leona. A voice spoke. "Hello, bitches! Need some help?"
Leona's eyes widened. She recognized that voice. It was Mairead! Mairead McQueen, that damn, crazy, redheaded madwoman!
"I told you to wait at the border, Firebug!" Leona cried.
"And I told you—I ain't missing the battle," said Mairead, laughing. "Had to come save your ass."
The strikers abandoned the deathcars, flying toward the Inheritor fleet, only to shatter under the storming artillery. The convoy of survivors flew forward and joined the fleet.
"Now let's get the hell out of here!" Leona shouted.
The fleet flew into the depths. Once they had reached a safe distance from the planet, Leona gave the order.
The Inheritor ships activated their azoth drives. Spacetime bent around them. The stars stretched into lines.
They shot into the distance, moving faster than light.
They flew back toward the Concord. Back toward safety. They flew away from hell.
But as they flew, Leona knew that she could never escape that gulock. That its terrors would forever haunt her nightmares. The cadaverous prisoners. The pile of flayed bodies. Her bullets delivering mercy to the dying. And finally—Jade, her old friend, laughing and burning in the fire.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Jade stood in the fire, laughing, arms raised as she burned.
Above her, the Inheritor fleet flew away, leaving the gulock a roaring, collapsing inferno. The flames raged around Jade. Her clothes melted. Her hair burned away. But the inferno could not hurt her.
She was Jade of the Skra-Shen, daughter of an emperor. She was holy.
She was a girl in a glittering cave.
She laughed, walking through the fire, claws extended, screaming. Always screaming.
>
She hugged her mother and father.
She howled at the sky, watching her enemies fly away, vowing vengeance.
She huddled in the shadows, waving a crystal sword as the monsters loomed.
I was a girl, she thought, tears steaming in the fire. I was a human child. I was in a glittering cave, and my mother sang me a song. A song of Earth.
No.
Lies.
Lies!
She roared. She wept as she walked through the flames. She fell, and the fire roared across her, and she crawled over bones and bullet cartridges.
I love you, Jade, her mother whispered.
I love you, Jade, said her younger sister, a toddler with huge brown eyes.
She crawled through the ashes, and she emerged from the blaze, shivering, naked, hairless, crying out to the sky.
Jade rose to her feet. Before her, the last surviving scorpions knelt.
"The goddess lives!" they whispered.
"Hail Jade the Deceiver, tamer of fire!" they cried.
She walked between them, her bare feet scattering ashes. The implants thrummed on her bald head, crackling, singed, barely glowing at all.
The memories flooded her.
Running with her parents.
Flying away from a secret base.
Calling out to Leona, her friend, wanting to stay with her but running, always running.
Mommy! she cried. Daddy! Rowan!
Jade took a few steps through the ashes, and smoke swirled above. She fell to her knees.
She gazed up at the sky, and she could no longer see them. Only ghosts. Only echoes. The Inheritor fleet was leaving, and Leona was leaving with them.
My friend. My friend . . .
Jade screamed.
"They infected me!" she cried, arms held above her head, claws extending. "They planted memories in my brain! They lie, they lie! Filthy humans. Lying humans!" Her voice was hoarse, torn, and she tasted blood. She shouted as loudly as she could. "I am a scorpion!"
She approached a striker that lay fallen on the ground, cracked and smoldering. She stepped inside, stumbled past dying scorpions, and pulled power cables out from the engines. They sparked in her hands.
Be strong. Be brave.
She plugged the cables into her implants.
She screamed.
The power bolted through her, searing her on the inside, and Jade laughed.
She unplugged the cables, purified, her memories burnt away like this gulock. Like all the humans would soon be.
A whimpering sounded outside.
Jade stepped out of the starship. She saw it there. A human. A young man, lying on the ground, forgotten. He must have fled the camp walls during the battle.
Jade knelt by him.
"Help me," the man whispered, bleeding from deep gashes to his legs.
Jade stroked his cheek. She leaned down, kissed his lips, then nibbled his earlobe.
She whispered to him, "You will all die . . ."
She bit off his ear and spat it out. He screamed, and she grabbed his head and twisted until it cracked. He fell silent. Jade lapped at his blood greedily. It flowed down her throat, hot, coppery, giving her strength.
She rose to her feet, blood on her lips and naked body. Scorpions gathered around her.
"The humans invaded our lands!" she cried. "We will no longer hold back. We will chase them everywhere, even into Concord space. The Inheritors will scream!"
The scorpions roared for triumph.
Their strikers rose, leaving the burnt gulock. Heading into space. Heading to war, victory, and purification.
* * * * *
Leona lay in the ISS Kos, hospital ship of the fleet, grumbling as Duncan treated her wounds.
"I should be back on the Jerusalem's bridge," she said. "I am Commodore Leona Ben-Ari, acting commander of this fleet."
Duncan nodded. "Aye, lass. And if you don't lie still and let me complete these stitches, you'll be known as the Dreaded Pirate Ben-Ari, because you'll be walking everywhere on a peg leg."
She rolled her eyes. "I've had worse wounds."
"But I've never had a worse patient," Duncan said with a wry smile. "Now lie still, lass!"
She lay still, letting him stitch her wound. Despite his thick fingers, Duncan was incredibly dexterous. The wound would leave only a small, thin scar.
Yet what was another scar in this war? Leona already bore the scars of her wedding day. And there were deeper scars too. Scars one could not see.
She tilted her head and gazed out the porthole. The stars were streaming by outside. They were crossing the border now, returning to Concord space. But not to safety. Leona knew that there could be no more safety in this galaxy. Not without a homeland. There was such terror in the darkness.
She could not see them from here. But Leona knew they were out there. The forces of the Hierarchy. Dreadnoughts. Starfighters. Carriers filled with scorpions. And behind them—the gulocks. Hundreds of them. Hundreds she could never reach.
Again she saw it—the pile of skinned corpses.
The flayed humans, still alive.
Weeping as she burned them.
She spoke softly. "The wounds you stitch will heal. But there are worse wounds than those on flesh. The wounds on the heart run deeper. Those might never heal."
Duncan paused for a moment from his work. He lowered his head. "Aye, lass. Those I cannot heal."
She looked at him, at her kind doctor. She had seen photos of him as a young man; he had been with the Inheritors since the beginning. Back then, thirty years ago, Duncan had sported a flaming red beard and a full head of hair. Now his beard was white, his head bald. But he was still strong. Still kind. She saw the compassion in his eyes.
"How does one face such evil?" Leona said softly. "They're an entire empire dedicated to hatred. To hating us. The things they do, the torture, the pain . . ." She winced. "How does one keep fighting? I feel so alone. So overwhelmed. There is so much darkness out there. So much evil."
Duncan stroked her hair. "Aye, lass, the galaxy is filled with evil. Many aliens are a nasty lot. And there is evil within humans as well. There are those even among our own species no better than the bugs. But over my years of fighting, I've learned something, lass."
"What?" she whispered.
"That there is goodness in the galaxy too. There is goodness in the hearts of men and women. Whenever you face evil, look around. You'll see that goodness too. In the gulock, a place of despair and death, we brought hope. Where the scorpions came to kill, we came to save. It's always like that. Even in the darkest shadows, there is some light. Always seek that light, and you'll find it. Even in your darkest nights."
Leona sat up, embraced him, and laid her head against his wide chest. Duncan held her, stroking her hair. She wept against his shirt.
"There there, lass," he said. "It's all right now. Old Doc is here."
She smiled through her tears. "You are my light in shadows. And I will be a light to my people. And we will all be lights to humanity. When night falls, good men and women shine a light. That's what we will do."
Leona returned to the bridge of the Jerusalem, the flagship of humanity. Around her flew her warships. In the vast darkness of space, their lights shone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Rowan walked across the hangar, nervously glancing around. It was only a journey of several steps between the Cagayan de Oro to the Brooklyn, but it felt like a light-year. She had spent nearly all her life hiding in the ductwork, sneaking down only rarely, usually just before dawn, to use the toilet, shower hurriedly, and pilfer food. To walk like this in the open, in a busy hangar no less? Rowan's heart pounded against her ribs, and her breath quickened.
She gulped nervously and glanced around her. Many aliens were here, entering and exiting their starships. Several square, two-dimensional aliens were floating forward like sails. A few feline aliens, their fur mottled, were skulking around a silvery starship, eyes glowing. Living crystals detached fr
om a glowing starship and hovered forward, while a handful of hoggers—furry aliens that looked like warthogs—snorted at Rowan.
"Filthy pest," one of the hoggers muttered.
A few other aliens, giant slugs, turned their eyestalks toward Rowan and spat.
They're all looking at me, Rowan realized. Every alien in this hangar. But they're not attacking.
She realized that her hand was resting on her pistol. That behind her, Emet stood in the open airlock of the Cagayan de Oro.
They all heard how we defeated the bonecrawlers, Rowan thought. They're scared.
She slowly turned toward the hoggers. She found the one who had called her a pest. She made eye contact.
The portly alien grunted, his fur bristled, and he raised his tusks. Rowan expected him to charge, but she maintained eye contact. Finally the alien rolled onto his back and exposed his belly, a sign of submission.
Rowan gasped.
He's scared of me! An alien is scared of me!
She had spent her life hunted, the lowest in the food chain. What a change!
Rowan puffed out her chest and strutted a few steps. But when a slug glared at her, she lost her nerve and ran the rest of the way.
The Cagayan de Oro was the size of a semitrailer, but the Brooklyn was even smaller. Rowan stepped inside and found Bay there, still fixing the controls.
"How's it going?" she said.
Bay was hunched over, his back to her, sliding a control panel back into place. "Man, those bonecrawlers made an awful mess. They tore up Brooklyn good. But I'm almost done patching her up. Her injuries are mostly skin-deep."
"Tis but a scratch," Rowan said.
Bay reached out for a wrench. "Huh?"
"More Monty Python. I really got to educate you." Rowan looked around at the interior of the starship. "Brooklyn looks so much better now. Last time I was here, her cables were spilling all over the place. She looks as good as new. You did well considering—"
Rowan almost said, Considering you have only one working hand. She bit down on those words.
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