The War for Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 4)

by Daniel Arenson

  "Fascinating," Ramses said. "In our stories, the Hydrians burned the world rather than flooded it. And we flew away in starships, not with wings. But mythologies are filled with stories of floods and angels."

  "Not mythology." Najila shook her head. "Truth. At least a metaphorical truth, one that passed from mother to daughter for many generations. But not all humans drowned. And not all fled to the stars. Thousands survived the demons of many arms. They remained on Earth, even after so many left."

  Ramses's eyes widened. "Thousands! So many survived?"

  Najila nodded. "Our ancient books contain a story of a hero named Tanakamon. He lived a hundred years after the flood. He collected human survivors, and they joined in worship of Mother Gaea, the goddess of Earth. Tanakamon raised a great army of ten thousand, all brave human warriors. They rebelled against the Amitites, demons of many arms, those you call the Hydrians. Tanakamon's rebellion killed many. But they lost. They died." Najila lowered her head. "Only we remained. This village. We survived while all other humans fell or fled. Eventually the demons of many arms left this world. We do not know why. But other demons came. Creatures from the darkness of space. Great animals like river horses, and shadowy creatures with no solid form, and tall beings like naked black trees. They came to Earth. They harvested the soil. Then they too left. All only stories. Until the basilisks came. They are the ones still here, the masters of Earth. They have been here for several generations, and we fear them."

  Ramses's mind reeled. So much new information! Not only had some humans remained on Earth after the fall—they had even raised an army! Had rebelled against the Hydrians! Had faced other alien invaders! Two thousand years of history had happened here. Human history. All stories the Heirs of Earth had never heard.

  "This changes everything." Ramses clutched his head. "By Ra—I mean, by Mother Gaea. This changes the whole damn thing."

  Najila frowned at him. "What do you mean?"

  Ramses rose to his feet. He paced, wringing his hands, speaking more to himself than the children of Gaea.

  "We refugees thought Earth was barren of humans. When we landed, we thought we were the first humans to walk here in thousands of years. Many aliens deny that humanity evolved on Earth, that this world belongs to us. They spread rumors about our origin. Some claim we rose from trash like maggots, others that we're demons from another dimension or invaders from another galaxy. Few aliens know that we have a planet of our own." He took a deep breath. "In a couple of months, the Galactic Council—a group of ambassadors from many alien races—will decide if Earth belongs to basilisks or humans. My friends Leona and Tom flew off to make the case for humanity. They were going to speak of our nobility and courage, and that's good. But this?" Ramses gestured at the village. "This is the ultimate proof. This village, you wonderful people—you are the strongest evidence we have. You've been living on Earth this whole time. You never left. You're a link in an unbroken chain, going back to the earliest days of humanity." He sighed. "If only the Galactic Council could see this place."

  They all stared at him, faces blank. Ramses wondered how much they understood. They were intelligent people. But they had spent generations with only ancient scrolls and stories drenched in myth.

  None of their stories were fiction, though. The old tales—of humanity evolving here, rising up, falling, rising again—they were all true.

  And the Council had to hear them.

  "Ramses," Najila whispered, "if the demons among the stars give the world to the snakes …" She shuddered. "They will devour us all."

  Ramses stopped pacing. He stared at Najila, at her grandmother, at the rest of them.

  "I won't allow that." He clenched his fists. "We're going to show them. That Earth belongs to humans. I'm going to fly out there. To join Leona. Tonight! And I'm going to show them that humanity never abandoned Earth. That this world has always been ours." He reached his hand down to Najila. "And I want you to come with me. To tell your tale among the stars."

  She looked at him, her green eyes damp, reflecting the stars.

  Before she could reply, Amon rose to his feet. Ramses winced, still feeling the brute's lash.

  "I've heard enough!" The bearded warrior pointed at Ramses. "This miscreant came here to deceive us. To frighten us with false prophecies. To steal my daughter." Disgust dripped from his eyes. "I see how he looks at her."

  Najila placed her hands on her hips. "Father, enough! Nobody steals me. I go where I please."

  "You do as I say!" Amon rumbled. He pointed his sword at Ramses. "Leave this village. Go into the desert. You are banished from this place. You will never take my daughter from me."

  "Father!" Najila cried.

  "Son!" said Nenet, rising to her feet.

  Yet Amon would not be placated. His fellow warriors drew their swords too, and Ramses found himself staring at ten drawn blades.

  Ramses still didn't have his rifle. He was a skilled warrior. But he could not win this battle.

  The Gaeans manhandled Ramses out of the village, ignoring their women's protests. They dragged him into the desert, shoved him onto the sand, kicked him to keep him down.

  "Come back and your life is over," said Amon. "Gaea's warriors have no use for you." He spat on Ramses. "You brought with you nothing but curses. Return to your people and die with them. We will do what we've always done. Survive."

  Ramses glared at the bearded Gaean. "Damn it, man, you have to listen to me! The only ones who'll bring curses here are the mucking basilisks when—"

  Amon punched him. It was a blow so powerful that white light flashed, and Ramses fell. Stars shone around him. By the time his vision cleared, the men were gone.

  Ramses lay on the sand, gazed up at the stars, and saw the distant lights of the basilisk armada. Thousands of ships above. Surrounding Earth. Ready to burn the world.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Ramses sat in the cockpit of his Firebird, staring at the sphinx ahead. The starfighter still stood on the sand, engines off. The pyramids rose before him, golden in the dawn.

  He sat still.

  "I have to go home," he said to himself.

  Back to the Canadian plains. To Port Addison. To fighting the war.

  He turned his head and looked toward the Nile. He could not see the village from here. He knew that if he returned, Amon and his boys would cut off his head.

  Ramses looked away.

  Damn it.

  He turned on the engines. His Firebird roared and rumbled, but Ramses let it idle, not yet taking flight.

  He tightened his lips, shoved down the throttle, and blasted upward in a cloud of sand.

  He was about to head west. To fly home. To rejoin the fight at Port Addison.

  He spent a few seconds flying in that direction, streaking over the desert.

  Then Ramses groaned, turned around, and flew toward the Nile.

  He engaged his stabilizing thrusters, slowing to hover above the riverbank. The blast of air bent the palm trees, rippled the water, and rocked the reed boats. Ramses descended toward the village, his thrusters ruffling the tents and scattering sparks from the campfires.

  The men below emerged to the village square and stared up at the roaring starfighter. When they drew their swords, Ramses couldn't help but feel a little satisfaction.

  Try whipping me now, he thought.

  He entertained the idea of landing on Amon's tent, but decided not to be too much of a jackass. Instead Ramses landed in the village square. He opened the cockpit, but he left the engine running.

  He lowered his ladder and descended a few rungs. The villagers all came to stare. Some children clung to their mothers, others to their toys. The men still held blades but dared not attack. Old Nenet stood among the villagers, a thin smile on her lips, that mischievous spark in her sightless eyes.

  "This is my starfighter!" Ramses said. "Yes, I came from the stars. But I'm an Earthling now. A son of Mother Earth. A son of Gaea. Just like you. And I will fight! Like the
heroes in the ancient tales. But this time—we will win! I am not only your ally. Not only your friend. I am your brother. So I ask you—join me. Fly with me. Together we will tell the universe: Earth is ours!"

  Everyone stared, silent. Their expressions ranged from awe to fury.

  A tent flap opened, and Najila emerged.

  She was wearing a red skirt, a white blouse, and bronze bracelets. Her black hair billowed in the wind. She looked at him from across the square, and he saw tears in her green eyes.

  She ran a few steps toward him.

  "Halt!" her father said, and she froze.

  Najila turned toward the bearded man. She stared at him silently, trembling.

  "Return to your tent, Najila," Amon said. "Return or I'll whip you bloody."

  She rubbed her eyes. Slowly, she shook her head.

  Then Najila ran the rest of the way, climbed the ladder, and entered the starfighter.

  Ramses looked at the villagers.

  "I'll protect her," he said. "With my life, if it comes to that. I promise you. Goodbye, children of Earth. I pray to Gaea that we return to you soon."

  He entered the cockpit. He settled down in his seat, and Najila sat on his lap. Ramses pulled the canopy shut—then soared.

  A starfighter was too small for interstellar travel. Ramses considered swapping it for a larger vessel. But larger vessels would never make it past the blockade.

  "Hold on, Najila," he said, breaching the atmosphere. "This is going to get rough."

  She was gaping, face pressed against the canopy, looking down at the distant Earth.

  "It's round," she whispered in awe. "The world is round."

  "And we're about to go for a spin," Ramses said.

  Only a few hundred kilometers above, the basilisk fleet was circling. Ramses had an azoth crystal in his ship—but azoth struggled to bend spacetime so near a gravity well. Today Ramses had no choice. He had heard of activating warp drives during a slingshot move around a planet. Mairead swore she had done it. Ramses had never been mad enough to try it.

  There's a first time for everything, he thought.

  He increased speed, orbiting Earth just above the atmosphere. He flew faster. Faster still. They grazed the sky, circling the globe at hypersonic speed. Faster. Another turn. Najila gasped and clung to him. The basilisks above noticed the Firebird and extended their cannons.

  "Here goes," Ramses said, made another loop, and let the gravity hurl him forth like a stone from a slingshot.

  He zoomed toward the basilisk fleet—and engaged his azoth drive.

  Spacetime bent around him, not forming a bubble but a spear.

  The starfighter stretched out—and blasted forth, faster than light.

  Within instants, Earth was just a blue speck behind.

  They flew through deep space, heading toward the stars.

  "You all right, Najila?" Ramses asked. "I'm sorry for the cramped setting."

  Her eyes shone with tears, reflecting the Milky Way. "It's beautiful. It's so beautiful. I never knew … And you spent all your life out here. Dreaming of coming home. While I've spent all my life gazing at the stars, wondering what lay among them."

  "Danger," Ramses said. "War. Death. But also light and hope."

  They flew by Mars, and Najila stared in wonder. Ramses increased speed, and they passed by the other planets. Finally they left the solar system behind, gliding through the deep dark ocean.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Often in her dreams, Rowan was lost in a labyrinth, crawling through dark tunnels, trying to find her way home. Sometimes they were the ducts of Paradise Lost, and the bonecrawlers were chasing her. In other dreams, she was lost in a basilisk hive, fleeing the serpents through the darkness. In most nightmares, she was simply lost in the tunnels of her mind. Seeking safety. Demons in pursuit.

  Tonight, as Rowan walked the corridors of the HDFS Byzantium, she felt trapped in one of those dreams. The halls were narrow and winding, leading to many chambers. Sometimes at night, Rowan wandered them aimlessly, stuck in a waking dream. Yet tonight she walked with purpose. Tonight she had to make amends.

  She climbed a ladder and reached a hatchway to the attic—or at least, the upper deck they had come to call "the attic." Coral lived here. Though they were flying in deep space, the weaver claimed that being up high made her feel closer to the stars.

  Rowan raised her fist, but before she could knock, a voice said, "Come in, Rowan."

  Rowan opened the hatch and climbed into the attic. It was a narrow, elongated room cluttered with crates of munitions. Coral was sitting cross-legged on a mat, candles burning around her. Her eyes were closed, and her long white hair flowed to her knees. She seemed deep in meditation.

  "Aether still creeps me out a bit," Rowan said. "You magically knew I was coming, didn't you?" She shuddered.

  Coral opened her lavender eyes. She smiled. "I'm low on aether. You just make a racket. And you whistle a little when you breathe."

  "Yeah, well, that's thanks to my crooked teeth," Rowan said. "We can't all have perfect smiles."

  Coral's perfect smile faded. She leaned back against the wall. Every day, the weaver seemed more faded. She was thinner now than ever. Rowan was much shorter, and had always been skinny, but she probably weighed more than Coral these days.

  The aether is eating her up like a cancer, Rowan thought. Opening all those portals. It's killing her.

  She sat by Coral and offered her a thermos. "I brought you some chicken noodle soup. From powder. But still tasty."

  Coral took it gratefully. "Thank you."

  Rowan waited. "You're not drinking it. I'll stay here until you drink the whole thing."

  The smile returned to Coral's face. A weary smile, but it was there. "You sure are a bossy one, aren't you?"

  "Coral, I came here to apologize for that. I've been bossing you around. Ordering you to use too much aether. I know how much it weakens you. And I'm sorry." Rowan lowered her head. "I haven't been myself lately. Sometimes I don't know who I am."

  "You are the commander of Operation Exodus," Coral said. "You are a great warrior. A leader. You gave me orders, yes—because you need me to give my all. And I've tried to do so. For Earth. And for you."

  "I've been jealous," Rowan blurted out. "I'm sorry." Her cheeks flushed. "Jealous of how beautiful you are. Jealous of how Bay looks at you. How you look at him. I heard about what happened during your mission to Elysium. How you slept with him. I accept it, don't apologize! But yes—I was jealous. So I was harsh. And cruel. And Coral—I'm so sorry. Because Coral, you are our greatest soldier. You are humanity's light in the darkness. And, at least on my end—you are a friend."

  Coral took Rowan's hands. "Rowan, what happened between Bay and me is in the past. I know his heart. I know how much he loves you. How much he's always loved you. He is yours. He will always be yours."

  "Do you hate me for it?" Rowan asked, then gave a sad laugh. "I sound like a tween girl. There's a war going on, and I'm worried about boys."

  "You're worried about your heart," Coral said. "The heart is always precious, even when the cosmos burns. Hate you? Rowan, we are more than friends. We are sisters."

  Rowan embraced her. For a long time, they were silent, simply holding each other.

  "One more week," Rowan whispered. "One more week until the Galactic Council convenes. Until we know who gets Earth." She stroked Coral's hair. "Do you have one more portal in you? If not, we'll end our mission now."

  Coral was quiet for a long moment. When she finally spoke again, her voice was soft. "I am weak. Weaker than I've ever been. I'm only a young weaver, not a great mistress of the power. An ancient named Sandalphon mentors me. He grants me gifts of aether. Every time I ask him for guidance, he is more reluctant. Worried about the light burning me. Hesitant to grant me more. I've explained the situation to him, and he knows about our war, so he gives me more light." Coral took a deep breath. "One more portal, yes. But no more. Because I'm close to death, Ro
wan. One more mission. Let's bring more humans home before the vote. And then—I must rest. For a year or more."

  Rowan stared into her eyes. "Are you sure?"

  Coral nodded. "I'll do this."

  Rowan bit her lip. She looked at the circle of candles, looked into Coral's eyes.

  And suddenly Rowan knew. She understood. She saw a path before her, and she knew who she was destined to become.

  "Teach me to be a weaver," Rowan said.

  Coral's eyes widened. "You want to join the Weavers Guild?"

  She nodded. "Yes. You're the only weaver in the fleet. As far as we know, you're the only human weaver left in the galaxy. Earth will need more weavers to win the wars ahead. Will you teach me?"

  Coral's eyes darkened. "Being a weaver is a long, dangerous journey, Rowan. One not every apprentice survives. It's not like learning to shoot a gun, program a computer, or even lead a fleet. It's a lifelong commitment. A new way of living."

  "I'm not afraid." Rowan tilted her head. "I lied. I'm scared shitless, to be honest. But I'll do this. Let us be true sisters—sisters of light. Teach me, Coral. Let me share the load."

  The weaver smiled shakily, tears in her eyes. "I will teach you."

  Rowan's comm rang. Bay's voice emerged.

  "Row, you awake, babe? You better get down to the bridge. I'm detecting something you'll wanna see for yourself."

  Rowan stood up. "Drink the soup," she told Coral, gave her a knowing smile, and left the attic.

  She hurried to the bridge. Bay was there, standing at the helm. Despite the late hour, he was dressed in his full uniform, complete with his blue overcoat. One sleeve was cut off, revealing his prosthetic arm. His beard had thickened over the past year. When Rowan had met him, he had rarely sported more than stubble. He had been lifting weights every morning—he said it helped his stress—and was no longer the scrawny boy Rowan had met a few years ago. Sometimes, he looked so much like his father.