Earthlings (Soldiers of Earthrise Book 2)

by Daniel Arenson

  Lizzy. The woman he loved. His beautiful tigress. Shot.

  Since then he had been running. Running through the city. Running down neon boulevards and through shantytowns.

  And now he was running through Mindao Military Hospital, seeking the right ward. It was not a large hospital, but Carter felt lost. Trapped in a labyrinth. He felt like he was back in the jungle, seeking her behind enemy lines.

  He nearly knocked over a nurse. Her tray clattered. He ran past medics wheeling a wounded soldier, his leg blown off. He finally reached a front desk, awash with sweat.

  "I'm looking for Sergeant Lizzy Pascal," he managed, gasping.

  The receptionist—a portly corporal with pale blond hair—rifled through his notes. "Lizzy Pascal, Lizzy Pascal…"

  "Please." Carter struggled to keep his voice calm. "She was shot. Where is she? What room?"

  "Pascal, Pascal…"

  Carter's heart pounded. He could remain calm in battle. He had charged at enemy formations without missing a beat. But with Lizzy wounded, needing him, it all flooded back. The terror of last year—his platoon wiped out. Lizzy captured. Tortured. Mutilated. Carter was a decorated officer, a graduate of Julius Military Academy, a leader of men. Some would call him a war hero. And here in this hospital, his insides were falling apart.

  "Sorry, sir." The receptionist looked up from his notes. "Wrong department. Try the bottom floor, Patient Care Unit. Ask at the front desk there."

  Carter ran. He leaped down the stairs three at a time. He raced into one ward, but he found himself in the ICU. Soldiers lay on operating tables, burnt, blown apart. Wrong ward! Carter ran the other way, finally found the Patient Care Unit, and stood by the front desk, panting.

  "Lizzy Pascal, Lizzy Pascal…" mumbled the receptionist, a young woman with a Chinese accent. "Sorry, sir. You were at the right unit before. Upstairs."

  Carter nearly tore the hospital down with his bare hands.

  He raced back upstairs. He faced the portly blond man again.

  "Ah, Lizzy Pascal!" said the receptionist. "Sorry, I must have misheard you the first time. Yes, sir, she's with me. Room 404. Just down the hall. No, wait! Room 405. Yes, that way. No, no, the other way!"

  And finally Carter was there.

  He burst into the room and saw her lying on a bed.

  Her eyes were closed. White plastic orchids stood on a bedside table, and white curtains fluttered. For a horrible instant, Carter thought she was dead.

  Then she opened her eyes and smiled at him.

  "Hey, babe," she said. "What took you so long?"

  He wanted to rush toward her. To kneel beside her. To weep. To hug her.

  But years at military academy, and horrible years of war, kicked in. He stood stiffly. Remaining strong. Confident. Once more—the leader and protector.

  He managed a snort of mock derision. "Hey, I'm busy fighting a war, while you're here resting."

  And then the facade crumbled.

  And he did rush toward her. And did kneel beside her. And did—gently, because she was bandaged and hooked to tubes—embrace her.

  "Lizzy, thank God you're okay. I love you, Lizzy. I'm here now. And I'm just going to chain myself to you, so that we're never apart again, and I can always protect you."

  She laughed. "Even when I have to use the bathroom?"

  He laughed too. "It can be a long chain." He stroked her hair. "My sweet, fierce tigress. It would take a silver bullet to kill you."

  "A silver bullet?" She raised an eyebrow. "What am I—a tigress or werewolf?"

  "A werewolf? I'm getting a bit worried now," Carter said. "What with Bahay having two moons."

  She smiled, and tears filled her eyes. "Carter, I'm going home to Earth."

  He nodded. His voice was barely a hoarse whisper. "I know."

  "The doctors said I'll be fine." She touched her bandaged chest and winced. "The bullet sliced between two ribs and pierced a lung. I'll recover. Medicine today is pretty amazing. But I'll never fight again. My war is over. I'm going home."

  He held her hand. "I understand. It will hurt to let you go. To fight without you. But I know your war is over."

  "Carter." Her eyes were soft. "You can come home with me."

  He frowned. He released her hand. "Lizzy, I—"

  "Come home, Carter. Come home to Earth. I already spoke to my dad. He said that—"

  "You spoke to Colonel Pascal?" Carter lost his breath. "You told him I want to leave Bahay? I'm not a coward, Lizzy!"

  "I never said you were! But this is your second tour on Bahay. You've fought enough. You don't have to keep chasing a ghost."

  He took a step back. He felt stone doors close the walls around his heart. "Lizzy. I'm not chasing a ghost. Ernesto is alive. I vowed to catch him. To punish him for what he did to you. For how he—"

  He bit back his words.

  For how he tortured you. Raped you. Mutilated you.

  He could not bring those words to his lips. His eyes dampened.

  Lizzy stared into his eyes. A tear flowed down her cheek. "Yes, he did those things you're thinking of. And this." She touched her chest. "He's the one who shot me. It was Ernesto. He came to the club where I was drinking with the boys. I confronted him. I thought I could defeat him. And he put a bullet through my lung."

  The entire hospital—indeed the entire planet—seemed to crumble around Carter. The news pounded him like a bomb's shock wave.

  Ernesto.

  He was back.

  He had hurt Lizzy again.

  Oh God.

  "I should have been there," Carter whispered. "Oh God, I should have been there. With you. But I wasn't. And he did this! He hurt you again!" He stood up and gave a wordless roar. "Where is he? I will kill him! Where is Ernesto?"

  A nurse walked by the doorway, hushed him, then hurried off, wheeling a wounded soldier.

  Carter's heart pounded. He clenched his fists. He wanted to rampage through the city, to find the bastard. He could not believe it. The same man he had come here to catch. The same man who had brutalized his tigress. He had hurt her again!

  Carter fell to his knees beside Lizzy.

  "I failed to protect you," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

  Lizzy shed a tear. "Carter, we came here to fight him. And I got shot. I almost died. We have to admit something. That we lost. That it's enough. That we have to end our war against Ernesto. That maybe Earth has to end its war against Bahay."

  Carter sucked in breath. "Never!"

  Lizzy closed her eyes. "We should never have come back here."

  Carter paced the room. "I'm going to catch him, Lizzy. He's close. In this city. He—"

  "Jon shot out half his brains," Lizzy said. "He's probably dying in a ditch somewhere."

  "So I'll find him and end the job! We're almost there, Lizzy." He knelt beside her again, held her hand. "I promise you. We're almost done. I—"

  "I came here for you, Carter," she whispered. "I wanted to let go. To forgive. I came back because you needed your vengeance. And I lost a lung. Please end this now. Don't lose your life for vengeance."

  He held her, and she cried against his chest. And Carter knew that he could not go home. He could not let go.

  And she knew it too.

  The next day, Carter stood outside on the tarmac. Emery Spaceport bustled with activity around him. Shuttles were rising and descending, some bringing fresh troops to war, others carrying the wounded and dead to space. The motherships were barely visible above, faded gray slivers orbiting this world.

  One would be carrying Lizzy home.

  Carter wanted to approach. To see Lizzy off. To say goodbye. Maybe she was still on the tarmac, waiting to board a shuttle.

  But the pain was too great.

  He turned around.

  He walked away.

  He marched back toward his barracks.

  He had a platoon to lead. He had a war to win. He had a man to kill.

  Lizzy was gone. But Carter still had Ernesto. L
et his hate burn brighter than love.

  Chapter Four

  Departure

  She was going home.

  After five years of war and heartbreak, Sergeant Lizzy Pascal was returning to Earth.

  She was going home broken.

  She was going home defeated.

  She was going home with her soul like shattered glass in her chest.

  The sun beat down over Mindao City. It was another hot, humid day—like every day on Bahay. Lizzy sat in a wheelchair, wearing a military uniform, an IV attached to her arm. Someday she would be strong enough to walk again. But not yet. Maybe not for a while.

  Marco Emery Spaceport bustled around her, a hive of activity. Every few moments, a shuttle descended from the sky, landed on the tarmac, and spilled out green privates—fresh meat for the beasts of war. Just as often, a shuttle rose into space, carrying soldiers toward the motherships that would take them home. Some soldiers were returning as haunted heroes. Others were returning in coffins.

  And then there's me, Lizzy thought. Returning home a broken mess, barely alive.

  The doctors had wanted to keep her longer in Mindao Hospital. Lizzy had refused. The starship Adiona was scheduled to fly back to Earth tonight. She would be on it. The ship had good doctors, as did Earth. And if she did not survive the journey, well… She had cheated death so many times she could not complain.

  I should have died a year ago when Ernesto brutalized me, she thought. I should have died a few days ago when his bullet tore through me. Maybe I did die. I barely feel alive. I feel hollow.

  Her nurse, a sweet Bahayan woman, pushed her wheelchair forward. "We're a little early, Miss Pascal. I'll find a shady place to wait for your shuttle."

  "Thank you, Mary Joy," Lizzy said.

  Her nurse was among thousands of katulongs—Bahayans who helped Earth. The word katulong meant "helper" in Tagalog, the local tongue. Some considered it a derogatory term, a synonym of "slave." But others called themselves katulong with pride, loyal helpers in a great struggle.

  In the north, the Red Cardinal called the katulongs traitors and Uncle Toms. He called upon all South Bahayans to join the Kalayaan, the great uprising against Earth's colonial rule. But not everyone listened. Here in the south, many Bahayans feared the Red Cardinal and his Luminous Army. They chose to assist Earth's military. The katulongs served as nurses, custodians, mechanics, maids, and many other professions the Human Defense Force outsourced. Some brave South Bahayans even formed their own militia—the South Bahayan Army—and fought alongside Earth in the field. Some did it for money; an Earth dollar went a long way here. But most truly loathed the Red Cardinal, believing him a manananggal—a vampire from Filipino folklore.

  "Here, Miss Pascal." Mary Joy pushed the wheelchair under an awning. "We can see the shuttles rise and land from here. It's a nicer place to wait. Would you like me to fetch you a drink?"

  "I'm fine, Mary Joy, thank you."

  The young nurse smiled. "Of course, Miss Pascal."

  If we lose the war, Lizzy thought, the Red Cardinal will slaughter Mary Joy and thousands like her. The katulongs helped us. For that, North Bahayans see them as traitors. Even sweet Mary Joy with her bright smile.

  "Lizzy?"

  The deep voice came from her left.

  Lizzy turned her head and saw him.

  And suddenly tears were flowing.

  "Dad."

  He walked toward the awning—that broad, bowlegged walk of his, arms pumping, gut swinging. Joe Pascal had always been beefy and strong. At sixty years of age, he was still powerful, though fat now covered his muscles. His hair was still thick, though it was no longer golden like Lizzy's hair. Age had painted it as white as death's grin. He was a colonel now, a senior officer, and three stars glittered on his shoulders. But he still wore a battlesuit like a grunt, armored and scratched and charred. Even at his age and rank, he still fought amid his troops.

  To those troops, he was Colonel Crazy Horse, the hardnosed, plainspoken commander of the Apollo infantry brigade. To Lizzy, he was just her dad. A man she loved with all her heart.

  "Sweetheart, I came as soon as I could." He knelt by her wheelchair, and his eyes reddened. "My God, my sweet Lizzy. What have those animals done to you? After last time, to see this again…"

  She gave him a shaky smile. "Tis but a scratch."

  Joe Pascal shook his head. "This is my fault. I should have insisted. Talked to the dean. Got you back into Julius—"

  "Dad!" Lizzy interrupted him. "I told you. I never want you pulling strings for me. Not now. Not then. Not ever. Whatever I do, I must do it on my own."

  She saw the pain that caused her father.

  I failed him, Lizzy knew. I hurt him.

  She had been only eighteen, a military brat with a big mouth, a wild streak, and a problem with authority. Her father, the famous colonel, had gotten her into Julius Military Academy. She, Lunatic Lizzy, the wild girl with scraped knees, a pottymouth, and too many tattoos—she was going to the most prestigious military school on Earth!

  Normally, they'd never accept her. Most cadets went to humbler schools. You needed to be a genius to attend Julius Military Academy, and Lizzy was no genius. But her father was a colonel. And her father pulled strings. And so Lizzy found herself among the marble columns, hallowed halls, and ambitious cadets of Julius. She wore a fancy white dress uniform. She polished her boots and cufflinks until they shone. She walked around with a goddamn saber on her hip. She was making her father proud.

  At Julius, she had fallen in love.

  She met another cadet. A handsome boy with serious eyes and quiet determination.

  Michael Carter was everything Lizzy was not. His skin and eyes were dark, while Lizzy was pale and blue-eyed. He was raised by a single mother in the inner city, while Lizzy grew up the daughter of a powerful colonel. He was intelligent, ambitious, a true leader, while Lizzy was wild and free and a magnet for trouble. Yet they were both misfits. Perhaps that's why she had fallen in love.

  Yes, she was a misfit here. At Julius Military Academy, trouble and Lizzy went hand in hand.

  She could never grasp the lessons that came so easily for her classmates. As her grades slipped, she grew wilder. She drank too much, got into fistfights, even punched a superior officer. She skipped classes, dueled with her saber, cursed and spat and questioned every order. She still had a scar from a swordfight.

  I don't fit here, Lizzy knew. I'm too wild and stupid. I'm only here because my dad pulled strings. I'm garbage. I'm not like my dad. I'm not like the other cadets. I'm a loser. And I hate myself.

  She lasted only eleven months at Julius Military Academy before they kicked her out.

  So she joined the army with the unwashed masses. She became an enlisted soldier. The daughter of the famous Colonel Crazy Horse—a grunt.

  And here she was now, years later—a haunted grunt with one hand, a bullet hole in her chest, and a broken heart. A grunt returning home as a cripple.

  Her father knelt before her wheelchair.

  "I could have talked to the dean, called in a favor," he said. "You would be dining with officers in Little Earth, not drinking in that sleazy, rundown club in the Blue Boulevard. You'd never—"

  "Dad. Please."

  "Okay. Look at me, dragging up the past again." The brawny colonel attempted a smile, though pain still filled his eyes. "I love you, my daughter. No matter what. You get back safely to Earth, and you rest and recover. I'll be home in no time, and we'll take a long fishing trip together, okay? Like we used to."

  She nodded, eyes wet.

  She knew her father was traveling to North Bahay tomorrow, leading the Apollo Brigade to the front line. He commanded five thousand troops, and among them—the Lion's Platoon. Her platoon. Carter, the man she loved. Jon, George, Etty, and the others—soldiers Lizzy had trained, sometimes ruthlessly, but soldiers she was proud of, that she cared for. And Lizzy knew some would never return.

  "I can't wait for this all to be over, D
ad." She wiped her eyes. "We'll go to Oakthorn Lake, and we'll sit in our old boat, sipping beer, fishing for bass. Like we did when I was a kid."

  Now even her gruff, burly father, the heroic colonel, the strongest man she knew—even he had to wipe tears from his eyes. "It won't be long, kiddo. We'll be on that lake again in no time."

  He hugged her. He was a bear of a man, but he was so gentle. Lizzy felt warm and protected in his arms.

  "Be careful up there, Dad," she whispered. "I love you."

  Her shuttle landed. It was time.

  She left her nurse and father under the awning. She wheeled toward the shuttle and up the ramp.

  Before the hatch closed, she turned and looked back. She wished Carter had come to say goodbye.

  Then the hatch slammed shut, sealing her in the shuttle, and the deck thrummed and the engines roared. The shuttle took flight.

  Her wheelchair rattled in its harness, nearly knocking her onto the deck. Lizzy clutched a handle and gazed out the porthole. Mindao sprawled into the distance, a mosaic of rusty roofs and twisting alleyways, of jutting cathedrals and shantytowns, of blocky military bases and millions scavenging along rivers and train tracks. A city of beauty and pain. A city of nobility and despair.

  As the shuttle rose, the wilderness of Bahay unfurled. The rainforests spread toward glimmering blue seas. As the shuttle got higher and higher, Lizzy could see more islands. Thousands of islands rising from this ocean world. When she had first arrived on Bahay, she had seen cloaks of rainforest draped across every island. Now half the islands were bare. Half the jungles had burned and withered. And then Lizzy could see the entire planet, a sphere of blue water and white clouds floating in space. A beautiful world. A precious jewel. The world where her soul and body had shattered.

  I'm leaving Bahay, Lizzy thought. But I'll forever carry the war with me.

  The shuttle turned away from the planet. Lizzy found herself gazing into deep space. A mothership lumbered into view, shaped like the hull of an old sailing barge. Here flew the HDFS Adiona, the starship that had first brought Lizzy to Bahay long ago, that still ferried troops and corpses back and forth between Bahay and Earth. Today it would take her home.