The Song of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 5)

by Daniel Arenson

  "So?" She snickered. "What are you, a wuss? Too scared to play me alone? Come on! Deal!"

  Ramses looked at her, sadness in his eyes. She stared back, chin raised. He dealt the cards. They played a hand.

  "Boom!" Mairead said. "Muck yeah! Beat your ass. Again!"

  She dealt this time. She won again.

  "Hell yeah!" She lit a cigar. "Kicking your ass all over town. Go on, deal, buddy." She shoved the cards at him.

  "Mairead—" he began.

  "What, wanna whine about how you're losing?" She forced a laugh, tried to stop the tears. "Come on, another hand. Hey, where's the grog anyway?"

  "Mairead." Ramses stepped around the table, reached out to her. "How about we sit down. We can talk. We—"

  "Wuss!" She laughed. "Hey, come on! Have a cigar. Cheer up, buddy. It's a poker game. You know, like in the old days!" She forced herself to grin, to ignore the tears on her cheeks. "Like we all used to play together. Before the others died. Hey, remember that poster we had over the old table? Of New York City? Damn, those were good days, right? But hey, enough reminiscing. I have a game to win. I'm kicking you all over town, and …"

  She realized tears were flowing into her mouth now. Ramses reached out to dry them. She tried to push him away, but she ended up in his arms. He embraced her, and she wept against his shoulder as he stroked her hair.

  "It's all right, Mairead," he said softly. "I'm here for you."

  She sniffed, ashamed of her tears. She held him close.

  "None of this is all right," she said. "Not this war. Not all the shit that happened. Not the things I saw in New York. I want to tell you about them. But I can't. I never will. I can never tell anyone. And I'm scared, Ramses. I feel so alone and so scared all the time."

  He stroked back strands of her hair and kissed her forehead. "I am too."

  She looked at him through her tears. "You? The handsome, heroic Pharaoh? You're a legend, man. A war hero. How can you be scared?"

  "I'm scared every battle," he said softly, gazing at some distant vision. "Every day. Not of dying. I lost my fear of death long ago. But of losing this war. Of losing Earth. Of losing those I love." He looked into her eyes.

  Mairead looked back, and her trembling eased. Ramses was a handsome man—his cheekbones high, his skin dusky and smooth, and his elegant beard tapered to a point, scented with aromatic oils. Here was the hero, the famous pilot who had fought so many battles. But to Mairead, he was something more. He was a friend. A pillar of strength. A man she realized she loved. A man she had loved for years.

  She kissed him, softly on the lips, then more deeply, passionately.

  They kissed for a long time. Then Mairead paused, took a step back, and undressed. She faced him, naked, vulnerable. All her life, Mairead had worn armor, literally and figuratively. Here, with him, she was bare.

  "Make love to me," she said. "Because I love you, Ramses. I've loved you for a long time."

  He caressed her cheek. "Are you sure you want this? That it's not just the fear of death?"

  "I don't fear death either," she whispered. "Just to lose those I love."

  She pulled off his clothes, and she took him into her bed, and they made love. She had expected it to hurt. But it felt … ethereal. She floated above her body, watching them move together, seeing her back arch, his lithe body move above her.

  I'm a ghost, she thought. This is ghost love. I float and nothing can hurt me.

  She felt like a ghost since coming back from New York. Disembodied. Watching from above but trapped. Unable to escape the flesh. Trying to rise like a tethered bat.

  "I died in New York," she whispered to him afterward, lying in his arms.

  "You're here, Mairead." Ramses held her so tightly. "You're here with me. And I won't let anyone hurt you again."

  "You're a poor liar. But right now, I'm happy with you. Right now, in your arms, I feel safe. In an hour, we'll fight again. We'll watch friends die. And I'll act all brave and strong. I'll curse and laugh and smoke cigars. But I'll be so scared. Until then, just hold me. Make me feel safe and loved."

  "You are safe," he whispered and stroked her hair. "You are loved."

  Mairead closed her eyes, nuzzling his neck. "I was a virgin, Ramses. You're the first man who made love to me. The first man I loved. I want this war to end. I want to be happy with you."

  He brushed back her hair, and he looked into her eyes. "Mairead, if I have to burn the whole galaxy down, I'm going to win this war. For Earth. And for you."

  She kissed him. "We're going to win it together."

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Rowan was flying toward Santa de la Rosa, the most remote human colony on Earth, when she saw the mushroom cloud.

  She was still a hundred kilometers away. But the light blinded her. She was flying a heavy armored transporter, a floating tank. It shook like leaf in a storm, nearly yanking the yoke from her hand.

  "Bloody hell," Rowan whispered, staring at the mushroom cloud rising ahead.

  Ten soldiers shared the transporter with her. They crowded behind her, staring through the windshield, the light painting their faces. They were carrying a new ansible, created in Antikythera's labs, to the distant colony.

  But that colony was now gone.

  "There were a thousand people in Santa de la Rosa," Rowan whispered. "A thousand lives—wiped out."

  Her eyes dampened, and her fists trembled around the yoke.

  Thanks to her Talaria cannons, more refugees kept arriving on Earth. Nearly a million humans lived on Earth by now, and they had been spreading across the continent. Santa de la Rosa had been an oddity, isolated from the other colonies, a town on the west coast. There were no wild basilisks there—a perfect place to build a grand city, a jewel of Earth.

  No basilisks on the ground, perhaps. But basilisk warships still orbited Earth.

  And now a thousand lives—gone.

  "They nuked it from orbit!" said a sergeant, teeth bared. "The bastards nuked the entire town from orbit. There were no military bases there. No strategic importance. Those damn cowards! I'm going to kill them. I'm going to kill every last—"

  "Soldier, control your emotions!" Rowan said. She increased speed, flying the transporter toward the mushroom cloud. "Our task is no longer to deliver an ansible. It's to search for survivors."

  She flew closer, streaming near the speed of sound across the wilderness.

  "You're crazy, Major!" said the sergeant. "With all due respect, ma'am! Flying into a nuclear blast? We'll be toast! The radiation will fry us, give us cancer in the balls! We—"

  "Soldier!" Rowan snapped. "We're flying a T-class heavy armored transporter, built to move troops through the darkness of space. There's more radiation up there than here. Your balls are safe inside this vessel. There might be survivors down there. We have to look."

  They reached ground zero. Rowan circled the mushroom cloud, searching for any sign of life.

  There was none.

  The jewel of the west. A precious colony, named after Lailani de la Rosa, a heroine from ancient Earth. It was gone. Nothing but ashes remained.

  "There aren't even any skeletons to bury," Rowan whispered. "A thousand lives. Civilians. Woman and children. Families. Gone."

  "We gotta get outta here, man!" said the sergeant. "The bastards might hit us with a second nuke!"

  But Rowan wasn't worried about a second nuke hitting this pile of ash.

  She was worried about Port Addison. About a dozen other colonies. About a million humans trapped in a war whose rules just changed.

  She tightened her lips, spun the transporter around, and flew east.

  A few hours later, she was back in Port Addison.

  For the past six weeks, since Xerka had destroyed humanity's fleet, the Human Defense Force had operated on red alert—the second highest emergency state. Today, for the first time, Emet declared a state of white alert. A state Rowan had hoped would never be used.

  White alert.

&nb
sp; Eminent extermination.

  In the bunkers below Port Addison, the high command gathered.

  Emet stood at the head of a table covered with maps. His generals and closest companions stood with him. Tom, tall and stern, a silver beard adorning his bronze face. Ramses, his eyes hard, his mouth a straight line. Cindy, her shoulders squared, her head raised despite the terror. A dozen other generals and leaders.

  Rowan stood here with them, the youngest in the room. She felt very alone and very afraid. More than ever, she missed Bay. But he was still in space, gunrunning with Luther.

  When you arrive with your next shipment, Bay, will there be an Earth waiting for you?

  Everyone stared at Emet, silent. Waiting. He placed his hands on the tabletop, leaned forward, and stared back. Finally the president spoke, and his voice was low, carefully controlled, evincing no fear.

  "It is six weeks since the Galactic Council voted to grant Earth to the basilisks. Six weeks since Xerka launched her assault, destroying our fleet, and plunging us into a brutal war for survival. Xerka expected to wipe us out within days. That I don't doubt. The force of our resistance surprised her. At first, we suffered heavy losses. Eight hundred warships, the bulk of our fleet—gone within the first day. Ten thousand refugees from aboard the Porter—slain that same week. Our colonies aboveground—reduced to rubble in her campaign of shock and awe. Yet from that fire, we rose stronger! We fought back! Our brave Exodus Fleet continued to bring refugees home. Operation Bootstrap brought us many more weapons. Our fireships ravaged the enemy fleet, destroying hundreds of Rattlers. On the ground, our scientists developed new technologies, and our brave infantry fights the invaders for every centimeter of ground. We proved our might!" Emet's eyes darkened. "So Xerka escalated the conflict. With a nuclear blast earlier today, she destroyed Santa de la Rosa, slaying a thousand civilians. A thousand lives whose only sin was being human."

  Silence fell across the room. They all lowered their heads, remembering the dead.

  Suddenly, in the silence, Ramses slammed his fist against the tabletop. It was so sudden that Rowan jumped.

  "I say we nuke her back!" Ramses said. "We build more fireships. This time we send them to her own homeworld!"

  But Emet shook his head. "We barely have any ships left. All the ships we do have—they must continue smuggling refugees and weapons down to Earth."

  "We must do something!" Ramses said. "We can't let this slide."

  "We won't. There's a reason why Xerka nuked only Santa de la Rosa. That colony was unique. There were no basilisks there. But here, Port Addison? This land is swarming with them. All our other colonies, across the continent, are also among feral basilisk communities. Xerka can't nuke us again. Not without killing her own people. Oh, she can bomb us with conventional weapons. Her basilisks have tunnels, same as we do. But nukes that can destroy tunnels, that would bathe the land with radiation? No. So long as basilisks are here, we're safe."

  "So what's to prevent the basilisks from leaving?" Ramses said. "Xerka can give the order, evacuate Ontario of basilisks. Then it's nuke time."

  "We'll make sure the basilisks stay. We'll trap them." Emet pointed at a map that covered one wall. "This is a map of our land, the valley containing Port Addison and several smaller communities. Thousands, probably millions of basilisks share this land with us—not just soldiers but feral snakes too. We'll keep them here." He pointed. "See this gap between the mountains? We'll flood it. This river? We'll block it. These plains? We'll patrol them from the air. If Xerka is blockading Earth, we'll blockade this valley and keep her snakes trapped."

  Ramses frowned at the map. "What if they dig their way out?"

  "Basilisks can't dig any faster than humans," Emet said. "They could dig their way out eventually, yes. But slowly. It would take them months to evacuate their entire community. If they try it, we'll find out. Rowan will invent a sonar machine to detect tunnels. And we'll destroy any snake tunnel they build."

  The generals in the room were nodding. They already began to discuss plans to blockade the land. Ramses and Tom talked about blowing up a mountainside, causing an avalanche to spill across a valley.

  Rowan took a deep breath. She stepped closer to Emet, and she spoke for the first time.

  "Sirs! Isn't this … immoral?"

  The men all paused. They turned toward her.

  Rowan was young enough to be their daughter—even granddaughter, in Emet's case—far smaller and weaker. But she stared back steadily.

  "What do you mean, Rowan?" Emet said.

  "I mean, this sounds an awful lot like using a human shield," she said. "I mean, well—a snake shield. But still! It's unethical. We're talking about civilian basilisks here."

  Ramses glared at her. "If you recall, Rowan, these so-called civilians spent two years attacking Port Addison. They're not innocent. They're killers. Animals! Every last one of them."

  Rowan placed her hands on her hips. "Isn't that what they say about us?"

  Ramses inhaled sharply. "That's not the same and you know it, Emery!"

  "I don't know anything of the sort!" Rowan said. "Listen to me, Pharaoh. Emet. Tom. All of you! If we stoop to their level, what we have accomplished?"

  "Survival!" Ramses said.

  Rowan shook her head. "That would not be survival. To me, survival is not just staying alive. It's staying human."

  Ramses stared at her, eyes cold. "I understand, Emery. You made a mistake with the Talaria cannons. People died. And now you're trying to atone for that, to prove your morality, even if it means more deaths, and—"

  "Enough!" Emet roared, his voice so loud everyone jumped. "Ramses, you go too far. Rowan's Talaria cannons are bringing us new soldiers and new weapons every day. Without Rowan, without her ingenuity, we wouldn't survive at all." Emet turned to stare into Rowan's eyes. "And we're all grateful."

  Ramses lowered his head. "Of course. I spoke in anger." He knelt before Rowan. "I'm sorry, Rowan. I didn't mean what I said. I'm angry. And … scared. And I misspoke."

  Rowan placed a hand on his shoulder. "I know, Ramses," she said. "I understand. I misspoke too. I shouldn't have passed judgment on you or your intentions." She looked at the rest of them. "I'm sorry, everyone. I acted like a brat."

  Ramses straightened. "All right, everyone. Do we want a group hug, or do we make a decision?"

  They all turned to look at Emet. They knew the choice was his.

  And Emet made his choice.

  "We'll proceed with Operation Snaketrap. We'll trap the civilian basilisks in the valley. Rowan, I know you object. That has been noted. But we'll proceed with the plan nonetheless." He stared into her eyes. "Is that going to be a problem?"

  Rowan took a sharp breath, tightened her lips, and finally shook her head. "No. I won't cause problems. I don't agree with the plan, sir. But I will respect it. I will follow your orders. So long as we avoid civilian casualties."

  "With this plan, we will," Emet said. "But we must do more! Operation Snaketrap isn't enough. Even with basilisks in the valley, we cannot predict the depths of Xerka's cruelty. It's possible she will nuke Port Addison nonetheless, willing to sacrifice a million basilisks in order to kill humans. We cannot keep placing all our eggs in one basket. We must expand outward. Operation Exodus is still bringing us new refugees every week. We must settle them far from here. In Europe. Africa. Asia. In every corner of the globe. Everywhere that basilisks live, we must live too. If one location is nuked, the other colonies can continue the fight."

  More basilisk shields, Rowan thought.

  But perhaps Emet was right. Rowan didn't like it. In fact, it made her queasy. Yet the survival of the human race depended on it.

  She thought back to Emet's words following the Talaria tragedy. He had told her that leaders must sometimes kill for the greater good. Perhaps that was the curse of being a leader.

  And I'm a leader now, Rowan thought. In times of war, all leaders have bloody hands. And I don't know if I can ever wash mine cle
an. She took a deep breath. So be it. I will bloody my hands so that others, some generation from now, may live a purer life than mine.

  She looked at the generals.

  "So far, we've only been talking about defense," Rowan said. "But I propose that we do more. We cannot let the attack on Santa de la Rosa go unpunished. We must retaliate. With something new. Something devastating. Something that will hurt Xerka—badly."

  Ramses raised an eyebrow. "We have no more fireships, remember?"

  "I don't need fireships," Rowan said. "I just need one ship."

  She turned around to face Mairead.

  The young pilot stood in the corner, cloaked in shadows. Officers in the room gasped. Some had not even noticed Mairead until now.

  The Firebug had always been the loudest, brashest soldier in the corps. A wunderkind, she had been flying Firebirds in battle at thirteen. Within a decade, she had risen to command the Firebird Fleet, becoming the youngest Inheritor to reach the rank of commodore. She was now a lieutenant colonel in the Human Defense Force, only in her twenties but already a senior officer. She could normally be found smoking and grogging at the poker table, getting into fistfights with fellow officers, and making a whole lot of noise—belching, cursing, singing, bragging. Her personality had always been like her hair: fiery and untamed.

  Yet Mairead had spent this meeting in the shadows. Silent. Hiding that hair within a hood.

  Rowan looked at the older woman.

  What horrors did you see in the ruins of New York? she thought.

  "Mairead." Rowan stepped closer. She took her friend's hand, then gasped. Mairead's hand was ice cold.

  "Rowan," Mairead whispered.

  We are very much the same, Mairead, Rowan thought. We both became soldiers at such a young age. We both rose too fast in the ranks. We both saw too much.

  "That Copperhead you brought back from New York," Rowan said. "Do you think I can have a look at it?"

  Mairead nodded. "Yes. Take it." Her eyes dampened. "I never want to see it again."

  "What is your plan, Rowan?" Emet said.

  Rowan turned toward him. "Every Copperhead must have a computer system. I'm going to hack into this one. And if I'm successful …" She smiled. "You're going to see some serious shit."