The Song of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 5)

by Daniel Arenson

  His son clung to Naja's neck, stabbing again and again. The snake writhed, trying to shake him off, but could not.

  Bay raised his blades, then drove them down with a battle cry. They pierced the armor. Bay was sawing, digging, carving up the metal, opening the helmet like a tin can.

  "Come on, show yourself, asshole!" Bay shouted. He grabbed a shard of helmet and peeled it off. "Dad, get ready to shoot him in the face!"

  Bay pulled off another chunk of helmet, then another. The pieces came free and clattered to the floor.

  Emet finally stared at the face of Naja.

  He narrowed his eyes, then gasped.

  "No," he whispered.

  He took a step back.

  Bay saw it too. He cried out and fell off the basilisk. He landed on the floor and stared up, and his eyes filled with tears.

  "Mom?" Bay whispered, voice shaking.

  Emet stood before Naja, gazing at the face of his late wife.

  Alexis looked so much like Leona—the dark eyes, the proud cheekbones, the curly dark hair. She had been so beautiful in life. But morphed like this, she was a hideous creature. Deformed and evil. Her jaws thrust out, filled with fangs, and varicose veins covered her cheeks.

  "Yes, Emet," the twisted creature hissed, still speaking with Naja's monstrous voice. "I studied you. I study all my victims. I dug up the bones of your whore wife. I consumed them. Understood them. Wove their essence through my DNA. I learned so much about you. How to hunt you. How to hurt you. Soon you will be with her again, Emet. I will digest your essence too. Yours and your son's. Soon you will morph with her, sprouting from my body." Naja chuckled. "One happy family, twisted together into eternal agony."

  The chimera slithered closer to Emet, jaws opening wide.

  Emet raised his rifle.

  The bloated, twisted face of his wife laughed. Suddenly the voice emerging from the jaws was feminine, soft, the voice of Alexis.

  "You wouldn't truly kill me, would you, my love? You wouldn't truly kill your Alexis?"

  Emet fired on automatic.

  His bullets slammed into the beautiful, twisted face.

  Without the helmet, without the scales, nothing could stop the bullets. They tore through the human head, destroying that perverted beauty.

  Naja wobbled, then crashed onto the floor.

  He rose no more.

  Emet stared down, eyes burning.

  "You were not Alexis," he whispered, voice strained, shaking. He looked up at Bay. "Son, that was not your mother."

  Bay walked toward him, tears on his cheeks.

  "Dad, is Mom dead? Is—"

  Emet grabbed his son. He stared into Bay's eyes. "That was not your mother, Bay. Do you understand?"

  Bay nodded, tears falling. Emet pulled the young man into an embrace. They stood together, holding each other close, as more soldiers ran into the room, as reports came in of victories aboveground, of more human troops landing, of the enemy scattering.

  We saved the tunnels of Port Addison, Emet knew. But not for me. Maybe not for my son. This battle, what we saw here—this will always haunt us.

  Cindy ran into the room, staring with haunted eyes at the bodies. She turned toward Emet and Bay.

  "You're hurt!" she said. "Let me tend to your wounds."

  There was unusual softness to her voice. Cindy would normally scold him for fighting too hard, for being too headstrong. But today perhaps she saw something in his eyes. In Bay's eyes. Before pulling out her medical kit, she joined their embrace. The doctor did not understand what had happened. And Emet would never speak of it. But she understood enough.

  "I'm here for you, my sweet boys," Cindy whispered. "Always. I love you both forever."

  No, there was no healing from the wounds suffered here, Emet thought. But there was Cindy. There was life. There was hope and love. There was a reason to live. And right now, that was good enough.

  "Sir!" A captain ran toward him, out of breath, face pale. "Sir, I've got a Code White alert, sir!"

  Emet pulled away from the embrace. He spun toward the young man.

  "Code White," he whispered. "Dear Ra …"

  The young man nodded. "The basilisk fleet just nuked another colony. Port Abasi. On the northern coast of Africa. They killed every human there, all seven hundred of them, not even caring that they took out the basilisks in the area too. Xerka sends you this message, sir."

  The captain held out a sheet of printed paper.

  Emet stared, reading the message.

  To Emet, King Ape!

  Surrender yourself, your son, and Rowan to me. I look forward to consuming your flesh. I will nuke another colony every thirty minutes until you do.

  Move fast, ape.

  Xerka, Goddess of Earth

  Emet crushed the paper in his fist.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Leona stood on the bridge of the Oceanborn, the flagship of the geode fleet, flying toward Earth.

  She could see her world in the distance. The pale blue dot. So beautiful and fair.

  A world surrounded by enemies.

  A world aflame.

  As they flew closer, her sensors began displaying reports. Thousands of alien warships surrounded Earth. Radiation readings told harrowing tales of nuclear attacks. Chatter came in over radio waves, several hours old: sounds of bullets firing, aliens roaring, humans screaming. Humans dying.

  "Am I too late?" Leona whispered.

  "Not too late!" Brooklyn replied, speaking from her flagship's computer. "There is still human life on Earth. We can still save humanity."

  Rowan had managed to send over Brooklyn's code just before the Wrath Offensive had destroyed the Isaac Wormhole. Menorian programmers had translated Brooklyn into a local programming language, then installed her into the geode-ships. Five hundred copies of Brooklyn now piloted the five hundred ships in Leona's fleet.

  No Menorians flew here. That race of benign mollusks would not be drawn into this war themselves. But Leona had an army of loyal—if a bit neurotic—artificial intelligence. And she had a fleet of mighty ships with azoth hearts.

  Each ship was large and semi-spherical, coated with a rocky exterior. Giant azoth crystals clustered inside them, able to bend spacetime and fire devastating beams to sear through enemy shields.

  It was a powerful fleet. But flying now toward Earth, Leona felt vastly outnumbered and outgunned.

  "We're five hundred against thousands," she said softly. "It better be enough."

  "Uhm, Leona?" Brooklyn spoke through a vibrating crystal on the wall. "Are you sure there are no ants in this ship?"

  Leona sighed. "Brook, we've been over this. There aren't even any ants on Menoria. How would they get into Menorian ships?"

  "Well, you're from Earth!" Brooklyn said. "Earth has ants. You could have brought some with you."

  "I'm not swarming with ants!" Leona said.

  "Have you checked your hair?"

  "Brooklyn!"

  Another crystal vibrated. A voice came from another geode-ship, one flying just off their starboard bow. This too was the voice of Brooklyn—another installation of the same AI.

  "Did I hear something about ants? Are there ants on our ships?"

  "There are ants on our ships!" said a third Brooklyn.

  "I knew it!" said a fourth. "We're turning back now!"

  Soon the entire geode fleet was chattering about the infestation.

  "Nobody is turning back!" Leona shouted, tugging her hair in frustration. "By Ra. Did you guys annoy Bay this much too during your years in his shuttle?"

  "Oh, definitely," said Brooklyn—the one installed into Leona's flagship. "But back then, it was only one of me. You have to deal with five hundred of us! Aren't you lucky?"

  Leona groaned. "Luckiest girl in the galaxy. Now shut up! We're almost home. And this'll be an ugly fight."

  Geode-ships were the fastest in the galaxy. They exerted tremendous force on spacetime, using the largest azoth crystals known in the Milky Wa
y, to achieve extremely high warp velocity. Leona could not fly such a warp bubble near a gravity well—not without shattering her fleet, and possibly the nearest planet. She brought her fleet out of warp a safe distance from Earth. The starlines slammed into points. The geode fleet glided onward through regular spacetime.

  Ahead, Leona could see it now. Not just in the crystal monitors but with the naked eye.

  Earth.

  Earth—and the alien warships surrounding it.

  Yet as she flew closer, her eyes widened, then dampened.

  "They're still fighting," she whispered. "The planet was nuked. Our fleet is almost gone. But Earth is still fighting."

  She could see narrow bands of smoke rising from Earth—artillery fire from the colonies. Strange starships were fighting in orbit, firing on the aliens. They were not the ships of the Human Defense Force. But they were not alien ships either; they must have been ships Earth had procured in Leona's absence.

  She zoomed in, and she gasped.

  "Starling ships!" Leona said. "The starlings have come to fight for Earth! But there are so few of them …"

  There were maybe a hundred starling ships fighting thousands of alien warships. Countless derelicts floated in orbit—human, alien, and starling ships, all shattered and burnt. Leona had been away for months, and the war had been raging all this time.

  "It's time to win this war," Leona said. "Ready, Brooklyn?"

  "Ready!" she answered—all five hundred copies of her.

  "Then charge!" Leona cried. "Charge and meet them head on! Destroy the enemy, and let's show these bastards Earth pride!"

  Leona leaned forward, as if giving her flagship extra speed with her body.

  They moved faster.

  The geode-ships charged.

  The enemy saw them now. The alien warships scrambled to reform their lines, to face this new threat from deep space. A few bold Rattlers fired lasers at Leona, but they bounced off the crystals.

  "For Earth!" Leona cried, storming toward them. "Battle formations—and fire!"

  The geode-ships spread out, forming a wall in space. Their crystal hearts ignited, grew brighter and brighter, then blasted out beams of white fury.

  The luminous spears tore into the alien formations.

  Rattlers shattered.

  Podships burst, showering spores.

  An Aelonian dagger-ship exploded.

  Leona charged onward, shouting, firing again and again. More beams slammed into the enemy. Alien ships tore apart.

  But the enemy would not die meekly. Undeterred, they were forming battle formations and storming toward Leona. They opened fire—blasting lasers, torpedoes, clouds of spores, spinning blades, whirring grenades.

  A missile slammed into a geode-ship beside Leona. The crystals shattered into millions of shards. A Brooklyn screamed, then went silent.

  Spores enveloped another geode-ship. The biological blanket ate at the stone hull and cracked the crystals. One of the Brooklyns cried out in agony. Her dying screams emerged through a crystalline speaker, reverberated through Leona's bridge. Spinning blades drove into another geode-ship, pulverizing its innards, cracking the stone shell.

  "Bay, it hurts!" the Brooklyn clone cried out, dying.

  Leona gritted her teeth, her eyes stinging.

  The Brooklyns feel pain. Why do they feel pain?

  "Keep charging!" she cried. "Right at them! Tear them apart! Fire everything!"

  More beams shot from the crystals. More enemy ships exploded. The scaly armor of Rattlers flew through space.

  Ahead, Leona caught a glimpse of it. A massive Rattler, looming behind the others.

  The Vypress.

  Xerka's ship.

  Leona sneered. That was the ship she must destroy. She must cut off the snake's head.

  The two fleets flew toward each other, closing the gap, all guns blazing. With every heartbeat, more starships exploded. The enemy armada was massive, dwarfing the geode fleet, spreading out to engulf them.

  Leona braced for impact.

  The two fleets slammed together, showering light and metal and stone, an explosion she knew everyone this side of Earth could see.

  "For Earth!" she cried. "Cut through them!"

  The geode-ships kept flying.

  Ramming into the enemy.

  Barreling through their lines.

  Rattlers fell before them. Blobby and fleshy alien ships tore open. Spiky, jagged warships cracked and exploded.

  Leona screamed as she flew, as her ship rammed into enemy after enemy, knocking them aside, tearing them open. A crystal inside her ship shattered. Then another. Then a third. A crack raced across her hull. But she kept flying, and around her, hundreds of other geode-ships stormed forth with her. They were outnumbered. They were a tiny force by the sprawling mob. But they carved their way through, destroying hundreds of warships in their path, clearing a way to Earth.

  Emboldened, the starling ships joined her. Every starling ship was different, makeshift vessels, most of them homemade. But they were deadly fighters. A handful of human warships—the last remnants of the Exodus Fleet—joined the assault.

  Humanity fights united, Leona thought. For victory!

  Around her, the fleets battled. Hundreds of starships exploded. Debris flew across space. In the distance, Leona could make out battles on Earth, the small human army standing strong against the oncoming horde.

  Through the chaos, Leona gripped her controls. She drove her geode-ship onward, knocking enemies aside, heading toward her.

  Toward Xerka.

  The basilisk dreadnought rose before her, a serpent that could crush the world. Her canons flared out like thirsty fangs. Shields extended around her prow, forming a scaly hood. Her portholes blazed with red light, two flaming eyes. Flying the Oceanborn toward this beast, Leona felt like a beetle before a cobra.

  "Welcome back, Leona the coward!"

  Xerka's voice vibrated through the crystals around Leona. An image appeared in the stones, multiplied a hundred times—Xerka, speaking from her bridge.

  She had changed.

  The Basilisk Queen was no longer fair. Her once pale, smooth skin had become deep red, blistered, and striped with orange scars. Her face was now demonic, the grin stretching to her ears, filled with fangs. Her scales were now crimson, trimmed with dark gold. The queen had become a demon, larger, more wretched, madness in her red eyes.

  "I've returned to kill you!" Leona said.

  Xerka laughed. "You are a pathetic coward. You hid in the depths of space while your people fought. While they died. Now you return with the fleet of another species. And they call you the Iron Lioness? You are nothing but a paper kitten. Come, let me crumple you."

  The two starships flew toward each other.

  Leona fired her beams.

  The Vypress moved at speed belying its massive size. It whipped around the beams, then fired on the Oceanborn.

  Photon blasts slammed into the geode-ship.

  Leona cried out as crystals shattered around her.

  She fired again. Again. But her ship was floundering, and her beams flew every which way, missing the gargantuan Rattler.

  Xerka laughed. "Yes, scream for me, coward."

  The dreadnought spun, swinging her armored tail. The elongated hull slammed into the Oceanborn. Cracks spiderwebbed across the geode-ship. Leona fell to the floor, bloodying her knees on crystal shards.

  "Brooklyns!" she cried. "I need backup!"

  But the other geode-ships were busy fighting farther back, surrounded by enemies. Leona fought here alone.

  Again, Xerka laughed. "Nobody can help you now, coward. Should I kill you fast or slow?"

  The dreadnought whipped her stern again.

  The scaly tail slammed into the Oceanborn, cracking her open.

  Air began fleeing the ship. Leona pulled on her helmet, gasping for air. Crystal shards rose from the deck, forming funnels, spinning toward the breaches. Leona stared through the viewport in horror.


  The Vypress reared above her, a mighty serpent.

  There, through one of those flaming red portholes, Leona saw her.

  Xerka.

  She was there. Inside the Vypress. Staring through the dreadnought's red eye.

  Leona gripped the controls. They were dented, hanging loose, but still operational. She nudged the Oceanborn downward, pretending to list, playing dead.

  The basilisk queen laughed. "We end this now."

  The serpentine dreadnought aimed her cannons.

  Leona yanked the controls, and the Oceanborn roared back to life, swerving upward. The Vypress's cannons fired into empty space. Even worse the for dreadnought: her port hull was now exposed.

  "Gotcha," Leona whispered and fired.

  Her beams slammed into the Vypress's hull.

  Fire bloomed across the dreadnought. Scales cracked. Decks were breached. A few basilisk soldiers spilled out into space.

  Leona fired again. Again.

  But the Vypress moved fast. The dreadnought dodged new assaults, then fired her own cannons. Lasers seared the Oceanborn, slicing through the stone exterior, carving off entire decks. One beam drove through the bridge, leaving a hole in ceiling and deck. Leona screamed, struggling to steady her ship.

  She tumbled, tried to feint again, but the ruse could only work once. Xerka anticipated her movement, dodged Leona's assault, and whipped her elongated hull. The dreadnought's scaly tail slammed into the Oceanborn.

  The Oceanborn careened through space, spinning.

  Leona screamed, slamming against the bulkheads.

  The Vypress pursued mercilessly, firing again and again, carving off more crystals.

  Leona tried to fire her cannons—but they were dead. Those crystals had shattered. The Oceanborn was helpless, her shields all but gone, her steering wobbly, only one engine still operational.

  "Goodbye, Leona!" Xerka cried.

  I lost, Leona realized, staring in horror at the approaching dreadnought. She's going to kill me.

  "Goodbye, Brooklyn," Leona said. "We fought well, we—"

  Something caught her eye.

  In one crystal—among the few that remained—Leona saw an incoming ship.