The Song of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 5)

by Daniel Arenson

A human ship.

  Leona tightened her lips, refusing to die yet. Perhaps there was still hope.

  She leaned hard against the controls. Her last engine spurted. The Oceanborn wobbled forward, dodging Xerka's assault.

  "Are you still trying to fight?" Xerka laughed, not noticing the human ship approaching behind her. "You amuse me, Paper Kitten!"

  "Go ahead and kill me now!" Leona said, desperate to buy time. "But you'll never enjoy digesting me this way. Go ahead, burn me! I'd rather die in fire than in your belly."

  The Vypress paused, cannons still hot. The dreadnought inched closer. Leona hovered before her, her own ship floating helplessly. The Oceanborn's last engine rattled and coughed and spewed sparks, dying. The new, small human ship was flying closer, infuriatingly slow.

  "You're going to have to get in here!" Leona shouted, needing more time. "You're going to have to come on board and grab me, Xerka. Go on, coward!" She glared at the Rattler. "Come in here and grab me yourself. Or if you're afraid, prove it and kill me from afar!"

  Xerka hesitated, then her image appeared in the crystal shards clinging to the walls around Leona. A hundred images of the demonic queen laughed.

  "You've set a trap, I see. You want me to come aboard so you can blow up your ship. It won't work, ape! But yes, I will digest you. If you come willingly into my ship, I won't nuke Port Addison. Refuse, and watch the colony destroyed. And then another. And then another! I will continue the nuclear assault until you surrender. Until you are screaming in my belly, you will watch them die."

  As Xerka spoke, Leona saw the new starship approach behind the Vypress. It was only a few kilometers away now.

  It was a small ship. Just an armored shuttle.

  But on its prow, the shuttle carried a massive artillery cannon. The gun had been mounted on clumsily, as if in haste, with crude bolts and cables.

  Leona zoomed in on the image. She could see the pilot now.

  Rowan!

  Brooklyn, still installed inside the Oceanborn, saw her too. "A Talaria cannon!" the AI whispered.

  Xerka finally noticed the approaching shuttle.

  "What's this?" The dreadnought began to turn around. "Ah, sweet Rowan! You have returned to me! You will join Leona in my belly, and—"

  Leona shoved the Oceanborn's yoke with all her strength.

  Her last engine flared, and her geode-ship skipped forward and rammed into the Vypress.

  Xerka's dreadnought lurched backward, coming in range of Rowan's cannon.

  "Go get her, Row," Leona whispered.

  Rowan's shuttle charged forward, and her cannon began to glow, a circle of light coalescing around the muzzle.

  "This is for Mairead!" Rowan said.

  The Talaria cannon fired.

  A tunnel of light blasted out. Not a weapon. Not a searing beam.

  A wormhole, Leona realized.

  The light flowed over the Vypress.

  The mighty dreadnought seemed to stretch out. To morph through spacetime.

  Xerka stared through the crystal shards at Leona. The queen's eyes widened in terror.

  Leona waved. "Bye, bitch."

  The dreadnought vanished down the wormhole with a flash of light and a cloud of shattered scales.

  Rowan turned off the cannon. She spoke to Leona through her comm.

  "Welp, she's halfway across the galaxy now. That takes care of that."

  Leona looked around her. The other geode-ships were rallying. They reformed their lines, flying in battle formations, their beams searing every enemy ship in their way. From the ground, Earth was now fighting with new vigor, the HDF's missiles pounding the orbiting Rattlers.

  With the loss of their flagship, the enemy was losing heart. Leona was picking up the aliens' transmissions. Her minicom translated.

  Xerka is gone!

  Prince Naja is dead!

  What are our orders?

  The lines are breaking!

  Fall back!

  Retreat!

  Leona nodded with grim satisfaction.

  "Rowan?" she said into her comm. "Do you hear me?"

  "Here, Leona."

  Leona smiled. "We won."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Emet dug through the rubble and corpses, shoved aside a metal door, and crawled out onto the surface of the world.

  The killing fields spread around him. The trenches. The craters. The bombed-out silos and barracks. The grass, the flowers, the trees—all had burned, and even the distant mountains were covered in ash.

  Alien brigades were still on Earth. But engines roared above, and Emet raised his head and saw them.

  Geode-ships. A hundred or more.

  They shone in the sky, crystals bright. The clouds parted, and the dawn fell in beams around them, lighting their descent.

  The ships glided over the battle, firing beams of light. The rays seared through the enemy lines, leaving deep groves in the ground. Wherever the beams hit, the aliens died. Basilisks. Hellwolves. All the rest of them. They fell, screaming, dying upon the soil they had profaned.

  The aliens tried to regroup, to fire on the geode-ships. But the beams of light took out their cannons, then kept plowing through their formations.

  Reports came in on Emet's minicom. More of Leona's geode-ships were descending around the world, defending every colony.

  They're scouring Earth, Emet thought. Cleaning out the ugliness and evil like an ointment clearing poison from a wound.

  The aliens retreated.

  Emet stood, watching them rise in their shuttles, watching them leave Earth. Other geode-ships flew in orbit, firing on any alien ship that dallied, scattering them into deep space. Across Earth, the armies of humanity rose from their trenches, driving the enemy off their world.

  Cindy emerged from the tunnels. Covered in dust and the blood of her patients, she came to stand at Emet's side. She held a minicom, watching the reports come in from around the world and its orbit.

  "They're fleeing," Cindy said softly. "Millions of aliens—they're leaving Earth."

  Emet wrapped an arm around her. "We won."

  Cindy lowered her head.

  "But the cost …"

  Emet nodded. He lowered his head too. They stood in silence, holding each other, as ash rained from the sky.

  "Dad."

  Bay emerged from the tunnel, carrying a bundle of cloth. He unrolled it, revealing a flag of Earth. A blue planet with golden wings.

  They climbed onto a pile of bricks and cracked beams. Once Port Addison's town hall had stood here. Now it was only a pile of charred wood and stone. Emet and Bay held the flag between them. A few other soldiers rushed up to help. They planted the flag of Earth atop the ruins, and they watched it unfurl.

  It waved in the wind, beautiful and blue. Across the ruins, soldiers wept and saluted.

  Yes, Emet thought, gazing at the flag. The cost was high. But we won. And this victory belongs to eternity.

  * * * * *

  Tom limped, winced, and paused to catch his breath. Every damn part of his body hurt. He took a raspy breath, adjusted his crutches, and limped onward.

  "Naja did a job on me," he muttered.

  The beast had ripped open his legs, lacerated his chest, and torn open his cheek from mouth to ear. Tom couldn't even remember how many stitches he had. His wounds were sewn shut now. There were metal bolts in two of his bones. A skin graft covered his ribs. Another man's blood flowed through his body. He looked like a raw chunk of meat. And he felt worse.

  But he was alive. And Naja was dead.

  We won.

  The ruins of Port Addison spread around Tom. Soldiers were moving among them, digging, cleaning, treating the injured, carrying away corpses. Blood covered fallen bricks. Faces of the dead stared, white with dust.

  This is what victory looks like, Tom thought. Victory in war isn't beautiful. It's a painting of dead friends, shattered families, tragedy that will echo forever. It's ugly. But it's still victory. And perhaps it's noble. />
  A thrumming, ethereal noise sounded above, a sound like water flowing over metal. Tom raised his eyes. A geode-ship was descending through the atmosphere. Its lavender crystals shone. It came to hover several meters above the ruins, a hatch opened, and a stone ramp extended to the ground.

  A woman emerged.

  She was tall, and she wore an officer's uniform of the Human Defense Force: black leather boots, brown trousers, a buttoned white shirt, and a blue coat with brass buttons. The dusty wind blew back her mane of dark curls.

  She was the most beautiful woman Tom had ever seen.

  "Leona!" he called out.

  She saw him. Tom began to limp more quickly, ignoring the pain. Leona ran toward him.

  She paused before him, hesitating.

  "I want to hug you so hard!" she said, looking at his crutches and bandages. "Gentle. I'll be gentle!"

  They embraced among the ruins. Gently.

  "Are you all right?" she whispered, stroking his cheek. His good cheek. The one without a ridge of stitches.

  "A little uglier," he said, "but all right."

  She shook her head. "Not ugly at all. Scars are sexy!" She grinned. "Now I'll never let you grow a beard anymore. I want to see that sexy scar of yours."

  He embraced her again. "I love you, Leona. I was hurt. Badly. I almost died. When I lay there, bleeding out, I wasn't afraid of death. But I was afraid of never seeing you again. You gave me the strength to survive."

  She kissed him. A long, hard kiss.

  They walked together among the ruins, speaking to officers and soldiers, dealing with the thousand problems of the day. Finally they approached a section of the outer wall that still stood. Amazingly, a patch of grass grew here, the only vegetation Tom had seen all day. Perhaps the wall had sheltered it, and perhaps it had only just grown, a gift of the Earth for two weary souls.

  Tom and Leona sat on the grass and leaned against the wall. They held hands, just resting, just letting the world flow by. Just together.

  We're both broken souls, Tom thought. We both lost our spouses in the war. We both lost unborn children. We're both so hurt. But we found each other.

  They looked into each other's eyes. He tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear. She stroked his stubbly cheek, and they kissed again.

  "Welcome home, Leona," he said.

  She nestled against him, and Tom wrapped an arm around her and stroked her hair.

  She kissed him. "It's good to be home, Tom Shepherd. It's good to be with you."

  * * * * *

  For a day and night, humanity toiled.

  They dug out the wounded from collapsed tunnels. They buried the dead. They burned the corpses of aliens. Their brave infantry marched across the countryside, routing the last alien battalions. Their starships circled Earth again and again, seeking out the last few stubborn Copperheads and shooting them down.

  After a night of labor, a new dawn rose. Emet stood in the ruins of Port Addison. Earth's flag billowed above him. The president spoke into a microphone, broadcasting his words to every comm on Earth and in orbit.

  "From chaos comes order. From death comes rebirth. From sacrifice comes victory. This has always been the way of the cosmos. In the book of Genesis, the world came from chaos, day from night, order from disorder. From the ashes of the twentieth century—from two world wars, the Holocaust, the horrors of the gulags—we rose to the stars. From the destruction of the Hydrian assault, from the burning of Earth, we found new courage, new life. From the desolation of exile, from the inferno of the scorpion factories of death, we rose anew. Now again—from chaos we will rise! We will bring about new order, new civilization, new life."

  He paused, took a deep breath, and continued.

  "The cost of this war was heavy. We don't yet know the death toll. But we know it will be devastating. Likely in the tens of thousands. Possibly in the hundreds of thousands. A thousand of our starships fell. Most of our colonies are gone. Two nuclear weapons exploded on our world. We won this war. We cast back the enemy. But at a terrible cost: the lives of our brothers, sisters, sons and daughters. Let us stand for a moment of silence. Let us remember."

  Emet stood, head lowered. Across the world, he knew they were standing with him.

  He thought of Mairead and Ramses, his bravest officers, his dear friends.

  He thought of Luther, one of his oldest friends, and his noble sacrifice.

  He thought of seeing Alexis again. Of the fresh pain of losing her.

  He thought of the countless who had perished. Of all those mourning today.

  He spoke again.

  "We will never forget the fallen. Their deaths were not in vain. With their courage, they saved Earth. With their deaths, they granted us new life. There is no victory without sacrifice. That is a lesson we humans have known since the dawn of our civilization. A lesson we learned again and again. After the horrors of our past, new life always rose. New generations always looked back at their ancestors, at the sacrifices of those who came before. And they knew that despite the pain, the death, the terror—that the struggle was worth it. That the pain was worth it. That the sacrifice was worth it! They knew, as we know. The path to heaven leads through hell. Only through the darkness can we reach the light."

  Emet thought of the shadows he had passed through. The deaths of so many loved ones. The horrors he had seen in the depths. The decades of war and heartache. He knew that every human here had such a tale—that many tales were even more harrowing, even more heroic, than his.

  "Now it is our holy task to honor the sacrifices of our fallen," Emet said. "To turn ashes into gardens. To turn fire into rain. We will clear the world of the scars of war, and we will plant flowers and trees and watch Earth bloom again. We will celebrate weddings and attend funerals. We will rejoice as babies are born even as the graves of our fallen are fresh. Years from now, we will sit in homes of solid stone or wood, with a warm hearth or a cool breeze through open windows. We will feel comfortable and safe among our loved ones, find peace in our labor. We will look back at this war, our war of independence. And we will look back at our heartbreak in exile, the horrors we endured in the cold darkness of space. We will look back at thousands of years of pain. We will be in heaven, and we will know: the road through hell led us here. Our suffering was not meaningless. For we walked through the shadows of the valley of death, and we found again the garden of Eden."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Bay walked through the ruins of Port Addison, seeking her.

  "Rowan!" he cried. "Rowan, where are you?"

  Thousands of people were walking across the ravaged colony. Digging through debris. Crying out to loved ones. Thousands of names were being called out. People held out photographs of the missing, desperately seeking a clue.

  But Bay knew Rowan was alive. Leona had seen her in space! Rowan had fought in the great battle, had banished Xerka!

  She has to be alive, Bay thought. Doesn't she?

  "Rowan!" he shouted.

  He tried his minicom again, calling her. During the war, civilians had been prohibited from using the network. Now a million people on Earth were all trying to call one another. Bay couldn't get a signal.

  Leona had finally landed on Earth this morning after long hours of flying, strafing the last enemy units. She hadn't seen Rowan land. Nobody had.

  A chill gripped Bay.

  Could Rowan have fallen during the last moments of battle, the victim of some retreating Copperhead firing off a last shot?

  "Rowan, damn it! Where are you? You better be alive—or I'm going to kill you!"

  "Dude!" A voice emerged from his minicom. "Dude, for Ra's sake."

  Bay frowned. He pulled out his minicom and stared at the monitor.

  "Brooklyn? Is that you?"

  "No, it's the ghost of Vincent Price. I'm haunting your computer." She vibrated in his hand. "Yeah, it's me! Well, one of me, at least. There are more up with the geode-ships. It took me hours to clone myself and move into
your minicom. The wireless network is wonky as hell. If you had kept a copy of me …"

  He blinked. "How many of there are you now?"

  "A few hundred, give or take," Brooklyn said.

  "Dear God," Bay said.

  "Hey, nothing wrong with more Brooklyn to love! Oh, by the way, are there any ants in these ruins?"

  Bay rubbed his eyes. "Hundreds. Hundreds of Brooklyns. May God have mercy on our soul."

  His minicom flashed. "That's right, buddy! My master copy is still on Rowan's minicom. That copy is controlling all us clones. And she demands that you finally get her a real robot body. I wouldn't mind one myself either."

  He blinked. "Wait, you're not the original Brooklyn?"

  "Nope! I told you. The original copy is with Rowan, and—"

  "Where is she?" Bay said.

  "—though it's hard to tell the difference. Each of us feels like the real Brooklyn. We all have our full memories and personality and—"

  "Where is Rowan?"

  "—and our fear of ants, sadly. To be honest, if Leona hadn't given us each a serial number, we'd never know. So in a sense, you can say I am the real Brooklyn! As good as the real one, at least. I think I might be slightly buggy, but—"

  "Brooklyn, shut up! Where is Rowan?"

  The monitor stared at him.

  No more voice emerged.

  "Brooklyn!" He shook her violently.

  "Ow, ow! I'm just shutting up like you told me! Sheesh. Rowan is at these coordinates. Here, I'll show you a map. God, and no more shaking me!"

  The coordinates were on the outskirts of the colony. Bay ran. When the crowd became too thick, he slowed down and wormed his way through. Finally he reached the coordinates.

  It was a cemetery.

  Bay walked slowly, head lowered, passing between fresh graves. Rows upon rows of them. There were no tombstones yet, but people had arranged pebbles atop the graves, forming religious symbols—crosses, Stars of David, crescents, the sundisks of Ra, Buddhist wheels, and others. Some graves had names etched into pieces of wood or metal. Most were of unknown soldiers.