He found Rowan standing by two graves. She still wore her old uniform—the brown trousers, white shirt, blue vest. They were tattered and charred. Dust matted her short messy hair. Her goggles rested on her head as always, but the lenses were cracked.
She's so beautiful, Bay thought. She's so beautiful it hurts.
He came to stand beside her. She did not raise her eyes from the graves, but she slipped her hand into his.
Bay looked down at the graves. Wooden slats rose from them, forming temporary markers. He recognized Rowan's handwriting on the wood.
Mairead "Firebug" McQueen, 4127 - 4155
Ramses "Pharaoh" al Masri, 4119 - 4155
"They came from space, but they were the salt of the Earth," Rowan said. "I loved them. I miss them."
There was still a lot of work to do. There were more graves to dig, homes to build, refugees to feed. With the blockade of Earth gone, more and more refugees were coming home. Just that morning, a thousand new refugees had landed.
Millions more would follow.
They would need shelter. Food. Clean water. Medicine. Counseling after the horrors they had endured.
But for just a day—Bay and Rowan walked away.
They both figured that after so much war, so much pain, they had earned a day off.
They took a shuttle to a distant forest where some trees still stood. They lay down on a blanket, gazing up at the sky, the rustling leaves, a family of robins.
They were silent.
Bay looked at Rowan. Lying beside him, she looked back.
He wanted to kiss her. To make passionate love to her. To laugh and watch old movies with her, to tickle and giggle and kiss her again.
But they only stared at each other, silent.
A tear fled her eye.
Bay thought of all the horrors he had seen. Of the countless deaths underground. Of the twisted face of his mother. Of the nightmares that would never leave him. He knew that Rowan too had seen horrors.
We'll never speak of those memories, Bay thought. They'll always haunt us—silently. But we have each other. We have understanding in silence.
He pulled her into his arms. She laid her head on his chest, crying softly, and he stroked her hair over and over.
"I love you, Rowan." He kissed the top of her head. "I love you so much. Forever."
She looked up at him, eyes damp, and finally a smile shone through her tears. "I love you too, hobbit."
"Hey!" He bristled. "You're the hobbit. I'm Pancake. Remember?"
She laughed—actually laughed—and bit her lip. "That reminds me that I'm starving. We'll eat pancakes again someday, right?"
He nodded. "Lots of them."
"And we'll watch movies, right? And read books together. I promise I won't flip the pages too fast." Her tears flowed again. "And I'll pose for you, and you'll draw me again. And we'll dance to K-Pop. And I'll direct Dinosaur Island. And things will be good again, right?" Her voice cracked. "And we'll be happy."
Can we still be happy? Bay thought.
He didn't know the answer. The pain would always be there. Could he still find joy, even as the pain lingered?
But when he looked into Rowan's large brown eyes, he knew the answer. He kissed her forehead.
"We'll be happy, Rowan. Of course we will. We'll be happy together."
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The ships came daily.
Sometimes, between her million other tasks, Rowan stood on a hilltop and watched them descend.
Refugees.
Human refugees from across the galaxy.
Some shuttles only brought a single family. A few only brought a single soul. Other ships delivered entire communities: thousands of humans, fleeing alien attacks, returning home after so long in the dark.
Leona landed here two years ago with two hundred colonists, Rowan thought. We're two million strong now. And growing fast.
Rowan vowed not to rest until all five million humans—the total population of the species—was here on Earth.
There was still a lot to do.
Their last few starships—mostly refitted refugee barges—were furiously flying to nearby worlds and back, buying food. The Human Defense Force was scrambling to integrate myriads of new soldiers, to prepare for another attack should Xerka return. Every man, woman, and child was toiling—building shelters, paving roads, tending to the wounded, comforting the dying.
Rowan was walking through the fields, collecting shards of azoth that had fallen from the sky, when she saw a single flower rising from the ashes. A trillium, she thought. Azoth crystals were costly, vital for Earth's future. With them, Earth could buy more food, more weapons, more starships. But the pale white flower at Rowan's feet, growing through the thick layers of death, was more precious to her than any other treasure.
She pulled out her minicom to take a photo of the flower. The device vibrated in her hand.
Emet was calling her.
He was calling all of his officers.
Meeting in the war room.
Rowan ran. But not before taking her photo.
She was the last one there. She stepped into the bunker, all eyes on her.
"Sorry, sorry I'm late!" She brushed dirt off her clothes. "I was out picking flowers. I mean—azoth flowers. I mean—crystals." Her cheeks flushed. "What did I miss?"
Maps were rolled out on a tabletop, and more hung on the wall between computer monitors. Emet stood at the head of the table. Tom sat beside him, still bandaged, crutches leaning against his seat. Leona was here too, standing tall, her dark curls cascading, the brass buttons shining on her blue coat. Bay stood at his sister's side, his blond beard neatly trimmed, his brass-and-wood arm polished. Cindy was still wearing her scrubs, fresh from an operating room.
A few spots were notably empty. Luther. Mairead. Ramses. Rowan felt their absence keenly. The pain was physical as well as emotional—a stabbing at her chest, a clenching emptiness in her belly.
Rowan took her seat beside Bay. Everyone else sat down too.
All but Emet. The president remained standing, face somber, eyes hard.
"We struck a hard blow to Xerka," Emet said. "But we did not kill her. We've received news today from deep space. Xerka is back on her homeworld, and she's already rebuilding her fleet. Her emissaries are traveling from world to world, seeking new allies. We won the first round. But now Xerka is preparing for round two."
Dark glances passed around the room.
Rowan's heart sank.
Another round. Another war.
Rowan spoke, struggling to keep her voice steady, to cling to hope.
"But we have time, right? A few months at least? Time enough to learn lessons. To better prepare. We'll install Talaria cannons around the world, able to break a new siege or cast enemy ships into the depths. And I'm still studying how to become a weaver, how to build a shield of aether around Earth. Yes, yes, I've kept that project secret, but I suppose there are no secrets now. And with all the new refugees, we'll soon have a much larger army. We'll dig new trenches and build new cannons. And I'll resurrect Project Hammer and Anvil, and we'll build those tanks we wanted, and—"
"Rowan," Emet said.
"And we can buy new starships, and—"
"Rowan." Emet gave her a hard stare. "Please."
She gulped. She realized she had been talking too fast, showing her fear.
"Sorry, sir."
Emet looked at them all one by one, then spoke.
"Rowan speaks of defending the Earth, and that is important. But we cannot defend ourselves forever. The enemies know our tricks now. They'll come back stronger, better prepared. As we rebuild, so will Xerka. Defense is important. But eventually, even the mightiest wall can come crashing down."
They all stared at him.
Rowan gasped. "Sir, you don't mean that …"
Emet turned toward a map on the wall. A map showing the Milky Way galaxy. But he was not looking at Earth.
"We must buy more starsh
ips. As many as we can. And we must show the galaxy—if you attack us, you pay." He clenched his fists. "We must show every race that voted against us in the Galactic Council—if you attack Earth, if you take our blood, if you steal the lives of our sons and daughters—you will pay!"
Rowan took a step back. There was something new on Emet's face. Something dark and disturbing. She shuddered.
Emet turned away from the map. He stared into Rowan's eyes.
"We must prevent future attacks," Emet said. "From the basilisks or anyone else. We must create deterrence. We must exact vengeance. We will build a grand fleet. And we will fly to Sskarsses, homeworld of the basilisks. We will invade their world like they invaded ours. And we will kill Xerka."
Rowan turned toward Bay. She saw her fear reflected in his eyes. She took his hand and held it tightly.
Deterrence. Vengeance. Invasion.
She clung to Bay's hand like a drowning woman. Her head spun, cold sweat trickled down her back, and dark waves of fear flowed over her, pulling Rowan down and down into the depths.
The story continues in The Legacy of Earth (Children of Earthrise VI).
Click here to read the next book in the series:
DanielArenson.com/TheLegacyOfEarth
AFTERWORD
Thank you for reading The Song of Earth. I hope you enjoyed the novel.
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Daniel
NOVELS BY DANIEL ARENSON
EARTHRISE
Earth Alone
Earth Lost
Earth Rising
Earth Fire
Earth Shadows
Earth Valor
Earth Reborn
Earth Honor
Earth Eternal
CHILDREN OF EARTHRISE
The Heirs of Earth
A Memory of Earth
An Echo of Earth
The War for Earth
The Song of Earth
The Legacy of Earth
THE MOTH SAGA
Moth
Empires of Moth
Secrets of Moth
Daughter of Moth
Shadows of Moth
Legacy of Moth
KINGDOMS OF SAND
Kings of Ruin
Crowns of Rust
Thrones of Ash
Temples of Dust
Halls of Shadows
Echoes of Light
REQUIEM
Dawn of Dragons Requiem's Song
Requiem's Hope
Requiem's Prayer
The Complete Trilogy
Song of Dragons Blood of Requiem
Tears of Requiem
Light of Requiem
The Complete Trilogy
Dragonlore A Dawn of Dragonfire
A Day of Dragon Blood
A Night of Dragon Wings
The Complete Trilogy
The Dragon War A Legacy of Light
A Birthright of Blood
A Memory of Fire
The Complete Trilogy
Requiem for Dragons Dragons Lost
Dragons Reborn
Dragons Rising
The Complete Trilogy
Flame of Requiem Forged in Dragonfire
Crown of Dragonfire
Pillars of Dragonfire
The Complete Trilogy
ALIEN HUNTERS
Alien Hunters
Alien Sky
Alien Shadows
OTHER WORLDS
Eye of the Wizard
Wand of the Witch
Firefly Island
The Gods of Dream
Flaming Dove
KEEP IN TOUCH
www.DanielArenson.com
[email protected]
Facebook.com/DanielArenson
Twitter.com/DanielArenson
The Song of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 5) Page 30