The Song of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 5)

by Daniel Arenson

  Aurora and Leona took a shuttle down to the planet. The round vessel plunged into the atmosphere and descended toward an island. Hundreds of Menorians were lounging on the rocky shores.

  "They breed on the islands," Aurora said, piloting the shuttle. "Predators once filled our oceans, and the islands were safe. So we evolved the ability to breathe air, and we began to lay our eggs on the silver sand. Today the predators have been tamed, and we are masters of these oceans. Yet our old ways remain. You gaze upon hundreds of new mothers."

  As the shuttle flew closer to the island, Leona saw the mollusks digging in the sand and laying eggs. Some of the mothers raised their tentacles and turned orange, a color of greeting.

  The shuttle flew over the island, then dived into the ocean. They descended through the depths.

  Leona gazed through the portholes in fascination. From above, the planet had seemed pristine, a virgin world. But underwater she saw a grand civilization. Thousands of other round vessels filled the ocean, traveling to and fro. Buoys hovered in the water, lights flashing, directing traffic. Towers rose from the seabed, windows gleaming. Terrariums contained forests of seaweed and fish farms. Coral reefs grew everywhere, kilometers long, providing homes for millions of Menorians.

  A glimmering white building rose in the city center. It was shaped like a sea anemone, its many towers flexible and swaying with the currents. Each of those towers was the size of a skyscraper, built of silver and glass, yet they seemed organic, dancing in the water. Between the moving towers shone the heart of the building, a dome of lavender crystals, filled with light.

  Leona gazed at the building in awe.

  "It's beautiful," she said. "I've never seen a place so beautiful."

  Aurora turned a deep, solemn blue and gold. "We gaze upon the Water Palace, the heart of our homeland. Here is the home of our king."

  Leona raised an eyebrow. "You still have a king? You're a monarchy?"

  "Of course we are!" Aurora said. "We're not barbarians."

  The shuttle traveled between the swaying towers of the Water Palace. The towers' rounded walls were transparent, and Leona saw thousands of Menorians swimming inside, bustling to and fro, busy running their watery kingdom.

  Aurora directed the shuttle toward the central dome. They glided into a room full of other round shuttles, and Aurora landed among them. The crystal walls soared. The ceiling was transparent, revealing the swaying towers. The sun was barely visible this deep, but lanterns floated through the Water Palace, filling it with light.

  They stepped out of the shuttle. Leona frowned and turned toward Aurora.

  "The inside of the Water Palace … is dry?"

  Aurora turned yellow. "The swaying towers are filled with water, and that is where most of the administrators swim. But this central dome is where the royal family lives. There is holiness to air, Leona. In air, we lay our eggs, raise our young. Water is secular, but air is sacred. We keep the most precious of our halls and temples dry. It is a great honor to breathe air. An honor for kings, queens, and mothers."

  Leona bowed her head. "I'm honored."

  Aurora's eyes shone. She touched Leona's hand with her tentacle.

  "Long ago, Leona, I served your ancestor, the blessed Einav Ben-Ari."

  Leona smiled. "I know. It still amazes me that you knew her. That was two thousand years ago. For us humans, that was eras ago."

  "Yet for me, a clear memory," Aurora said. "Einav was wise and brave and kind. I served as navigator aboard her starship, the HDFS Lodestar. Most Menorian ships are filled with water. But the Lodestar was filled with air. It was a human ship, after all. They are all filled with air. But I was very young, and to me, it seemed like a great honor—to breathe air among the stars!" Her body silvered, making her look older. "But enough memories for now. We will go speak to the king."

  Leona took a deep breath. "I hope he listens."

  They walked down a corridor. Crystal columns rose at their sides. Between them stood statues of the Menorian pantheon. Some gods were shaped like fish, beautiful and gleaming, forged of silver. Other gods were shaped like barracudas, their teeth forged from steel. Some gods were sculpted of gleaming stone, shaped like nautiluses. Some looked like nothing Leona was familiar with. They had strange forms, some horned, some tentacled, some scaled, some too bizarre for Leona to comprehend. The laws of physics and chemistry were the same everywhere. Evolution on most worlds took similar paths—but there were always exceptions.

  They reached grand doors carved of stone. They rose two stories tall, engraved with mythological scenes of ancient Menorian warriors battling the monsters of the deep.

  "These doors have stood here for hundreds of thousands of years," Aurora said. "Since before we became a technological species. Back when humans were still living in caves, these doors held behind them great kings."

  "Yeah, well, you should see our cave paintings," Leona said.

  Menorian guards approached, wearing elaborate armor formed of seashells, their tentacles tipped with iron claws. They turned winches, and the mighty stone doors opened.

  Aurora and Leona entered the throne room.

  The vast dome was carved of crystal and filled with floating lanterns. Nautilus shells the size of grand pianos rose in the center, their spirals glimmering. Several Menorians sat on these shells. Three were podlings, their bodies no larger than shoes, their tentacles short. One was a grand female, her tentacles heavy with silver bracelets inlaid with gemstones. On the largest shell sat a male, twice the size of the female, his body covered with barnacles and scars. In one of his mighty tentacles, he held a triton. Upon his large boneless head rose a coral crown.

  "Behold Poseidon, King of Menoria!" Aurora said, bowing before him. "I bring with me Leona Ben-Ari, daughter of King Emet, Princess of Earth!"

  Of course, the Menorians communicated with colors, not words. The king's name was actually a shade of deep blue. But Leona's minicom translated it as "Poseidon," the closest human analogy. She supposed that the shade of blue meant something like "Legendary King of the Ocean." Poseidon was close enough.

  She considered bowing too, then decided against it. She was not truly a princess. But her father was Earth's president, and she supposed that was close enough to king. She came here as a leader of her own world. She would not bow before a foreign ruler. But she nodded respectfully.

  "Greetings, Your Majesty," she said. "I'm honored to visit your hall."

  "The honor is mine, Leona, daughter of lions," said Poseidon. "When my daughter Aurora called me yesterday, announcing your imminent arrival, I was much pleased."

  Leona frowned. She turned toward Aurora.

  "You are … his daughter?" Leona tilted her head. "You, Aurora. My friend. You're the Princess of Menoria? And you never told me?"

  Aurora raised several tentacles in a shrug. "I didn't want to brag. We Menorians are humble beings."

  Leona's jaw unhinged. "You bragged about the doors!"

  "For they are not my creations," said Aurora. "We Menorians are proud of our world, but are humble regarding our own small roles in its glory." She turned back toward the king. "Father, Leona has come from afar to speak with you."

  The king raised his tentacles. "We will feast! All the bounty of the sea will fill our bellies. And we will speak and listen to many words."

  They moved into another room, just as large and grand. Murals of ancient kings and queens covered the domed ceiling—purple mollusks bedecked in gilded seashells. Several living Menorians draped across mezzanines, blowing conches, playing beautiful melodies. Sand covered the floor, and nautilus shells served as furniture.

  Leona sat on one of the spiraling shells, joining the royal family for dinner. Servants approached, tentacles raised, carrying platters of seafood: a wide array of fish, clams, and bowls of plankton. These prey animals were served live and wriggling to the Menorians. But Aurora, who was familiar with humans, arranged for Leona's food to be butchered and cooked.

  Some of t
he younglings turned green at the sight.

  "You mean she eats her food dead?" said a prince. "Like a scavenger?"

  Aurora slapped the young one. "Quiet, little brother. Where are your manners? Alien ways are not to be mocked. Our ways seem just as strange to them."

  Leona ate politely, hoping she didn't look too much like a bottom feeder, then told her tale. She spoke for a long time, recounting humanity's attempts to resettle Earth, the travesty in the Galactic Council, and the ongoing war against the basilisks.

  As she spoke, Poseidon listened intently, his body white with concentration, sometimes turning blue in sympathy, red in anger, and black in mourning.

  "And so I've come to ask for aid," Leona said. "Humans and Menorians have been allies for thousands of years, ever since the days of Einav Ben-Ari when our species fought united against evil. I don't ask that you fight the basilisks. This is Earth's war. But I ask, as a friend, to buy some of your mighty warships. Xerka destroyed humanity's fleet. But with your help, I can fly back with a new fleet—mightier by far. And Earth will stand."

  Colors and patterns flashed across Poseidon's body. "Our species are indeed old friends. We first united to fight the marauders, wicked spiders who attacked your world. We fought united against the scorpions." He reached out a tentacle to stroke Leona's shoulder. "I know how much humanity suffered. How for thousands of years, you were lost. How millions of you burned in the gulocks. And I know you suffer still, that you fight for survival, that the cruel Xerka seeks to exterminate you. Menoria is still a friend to Earth. It always has been. It always will be."

  Hope kindled in Leona. "So you'll sell me warships?"

  Poseidon turned a deep, sad blue. "That I cannot do."

  Leona gasped. She rose to her feet, scattering empty shells. "Your Majesty! I . . ."

  She was speechless. After all this—the long journey here, her words of friendship, her tale of woe—to be denied?

  Humanity will fall. The thought came unbidden into her mind. Without a fleet, we'll all die. Xerka will destroy my world, if she hasn't already. After everything—defeating the centipedes, the spiders, the scorpions—to die now . . .

  Her head spun.

  "Leona." Poseidon's hues were sad. "I know my words hurt. I grieve that I must color them. But we Menorians suffered greatly in the war against the scorpions. A million of our brave soldiers perished. Thousands of our warships burned. Millions of our mothers and podlings fell. We were once an empire, ruling twelve glimmering worlds and seventeen moons. Today we have only this planet, our homeworld. The scorpions destroyed the rest. Menoria is no longer the great kingdom you once knew."

  "I know," Leona said. "But I saw thousands of your warships in orbit. And I know you're building more. I don't need many. Even a hundred would help."

  "That is true," said Poseidon. "But news has arrived from the great empty dryness. We received the colors only this turn of the tide. The Galactic Council has announced sanctions on Earth. It is forbidden to sell you any supplies, even food, certainly not warships. If I sell you even a single bullet, I risk open war with the Galactic Council. Menoria cannot withstand another war." The king's colors deepened, becoming a blue so dark it was almost black. "I am sorry, Leona. I wish I could help. I wish I could fly to war with you myself, fight again at humanity's side. But Menoria is past its golden age. The scorpions nearly broke us. If the basilisks and their allies attack us—we will fall."

  "Like Earth will fall," Leona whispered, and her eyes dampened.

  Poseidon touched her knee with a silver-tipped tentacle. "I can offer you sanctuary here. We have room for hundreds of human refugees in our dry halls. Maybe even a thousand. You don't have to burn with Earth."

  Leona took a step back. She shook her head, for a moment unable to speak.

  "I won't hide while my people burn." She took a deep, shaky breath. "I will fight. Even if I die. Even if I die with Earth, with humanity." She gestured around her at the hall. "Will you hide here, Poseidon? Will you hide in this wondrous hall while humanity burns? Is that what friendship means to you? So the Galactic Council embargoed us." She barked a laugh. "Defy them! Honor your ancient alliance with Earth. Yes, we are weak. Yes, we are only one species, while they are ten thousand. But we are your true friends!"

  "Leona—" Aurora began, turning gray with concern.

  But Leona plowed on. "And if our friendship isn't enough, think of your own future! If the basilisks destroy Earth, they will turn to conquering other worlds. They will become another cruel empire like the scorpions. You need Earth strong! You need the basilisks defeated! I won't leave without ships, Poseidon. Because I know you care. I know you won't let Earth fall."

  She was begging now, Leona realized. And maybe it was ugly. Maybe it was undignified, even pathetic. Yet how could she simply give up now? How could she just return home empty-handed? How could she watch her species perish?

  "You're our last hope," Leona whispered.

  The Menorian royal family looked at one another. The musicians on the balcony stopped playing. The servants froze.

  Poseidon lowered his bulbous head. "Leona, I am sorry. You have spoken with true passion and courage. But—"

  A new voice rose.

  "But you did not hear me speak!"

  They all turned around.

  A woman stepped into the dining hall.

  A human woman.

  She was elderly, easily in her nineties, but still walked straight. Her white hair was braided, she wore a white gown, and a string of seashells hung around her neck.

  Leona took a step toward her. "You look familiar," she whispered. "I've seen you before. In photographs. In old films. I …" She tilted her head. "But it's impossible."

  The old woman took Leona's hands and smiled—a smile of purest warmth and wisdom.

  "Hello, Leona. I am Einav Ben-Ari."

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Leona gasped and rubbed her eyes.

  "How is this possible?" she said. "How can you be Einav Ben-Ari, the legendary Golden Lioness? You died two thousand years ago!"

  The old woman smiled sadly. "Ah, I lived two thousand years ago. Died? The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated."

  "But …" Leona's head spun. "How …?"

  Words failed her. Before her stood a living legend! A figure humans mentioned in the same breath as Moses, King Arthur, and Churchill. The Golden Lioness herself! The mythical ruler of Earth! Einav Ben-Ari had led humanity in its golden age, smiting its enemies, exploring the stars.

  And now she's standing before me, Leona thought.

  "Is this a trick?" Leona whispered. "Some illusion conjured for my benefit?"

  Ben-Ari brushed back one of Leona's dark curls. "All will be explained, my child. But first, I will speak to my old friend."

  As Leona watched with wide eyes, Ben-Ari approached Poseidon. The elderly woman sat on the nautilus shell beside the Menorian king.

  "My dear Poseidon," Ben-Ari said. "How long have we been friends?"

  Colorful patterns appeared on Poseidon's body. Leona read the translation on her minicom, but Ben-Ari seemed to understand on her own.

  "Many turns of the tide, old friend," Poseidon said. "Since the days when we were both young rulers of our worlds."

  Ben-Ari nodded. "And now we are old. I am ninety. Not many years for a Menorian, but ancient for a human. I'm nearing the end of my life. You too are ancient by the count of your people."

  Ninety years old, Leona thought, frowning. Not two thousand? She had so many questions, but she dared not interrupt the two leaders.

  "May we both live for many more turns of the tide!" Poseidon said.

  Ben-Ari sighed. She placed a hand on Poseidon's soft, boneless body.

  "I've lived for a long time, my friend. And most of my life, I fought. I joined a fledgling Human Defense Force at age eighteen, back during the centipede invasion of Earth. I rose to lead our armies against many foes. I turned Earth from a ravaged, frightened world into an empi
re. For long decades, I built—and I fought those who came to destroy. I lost many friends. Many loved ones. I saw many horrors …" Einav Ben-Ari's eyes glazed over for a moment, but then she smiled. "But I saw wonders too, Poseidon. Your daughter and I explored the stars, and we beheld beauty that still warms my heart. When I look back, I don't see a life of tragedy. I see a life of adventure."

  Poseidon placed a tentacle on her knee. "That warms my three hearts."

  Ben-Ari sighed. "Yet if Earth falls now, after all my wars, after all the struggles of humanity … Poseidon, we are old. We might not live to see if Earth survives or falls. It will be the next generation—Leona for humanity, Aurora for the Menorians—who will lead our worlds after us. Who will face the consequences of decisions we make today in this hall."

  Poseidon turned to look at his daughter, then back at Ben-Ari.

  "It is a hard thing, is it not?" the king said. "We struggle to leave good worlds to our children. A good cosmos. Often I worry about what we leave behind. Can I truly leave Aurora a world at war with the basilisks? Or should I leave her a world isolated from the cosmic ocean, an island of peace as a ring of fire spreads toward us?"

  "A hard choice," Ben-Ari said. "For my own heiress—hope or despair. For Aurora too, a hard outcome. She will inherit Menoria, a world in conflict with the basilisk empire, or a world that abandoned Earth to destruction, a guilt that can last for generations. And perhaps even worse—a world left to contend with a rising basilisk empire. These are hard choices for us, leaders at the end of our lives. They are tenfold more monumental for those who will follow."

  Poseidon turned deep blue. "I did not want this. I wanted to leave Aurora the kingdom I inherited from my father—a proud, noble civilization spanning many stars. Not this relic of a glorious past."

  "Our heirs will face their own struggles, but it's in fire that steel is hardened." Ben-Ari smiled sadly at the old king. "Perhaps it's right that they decide. Perhaps Leona and Aurora should choose the fate of the worlds they will inherit."

  Warm purple rose across Poseidon's body, love blending with sadness. He looked at his daughter, then back at Ben-Ari.