The Heirs of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 1)

by Daniel Arenson

  Emet leaped out from the airlock, back into the Jerusalem's bloody hold, and ran onto the bridge. As Emet took his seat at the helm, he saw the Brooklyn swerve outside, then fly down toward the marshy planet. Toward Leona.

  That planet was tugging on the Jerusalem too. Emet tugged the yoke, increased thrust to the engines, and pulled the damaged warship away from the gravity well.

  He surveyed the battle. His heart sank.

  We're losing, Emet thought. We've lost already.

  All the might of the Concord assault had done little to push back the enemy. The strikers still swarmed around the planet and wormhole. The husks of many strikers floated, burnt and shattered, but thousands still flew, both mighty warships and storming starfighters. Every moment, light flared as another Concord warship exploded.

  Barely any Inheritor ships still flew.

  Emet only saw seven other human warships and a handful of Firebirds. That was all that remained of the Heirs of Earth. Of his life's work.

  "Inheritor starships, rally around the Jerusalem!" he said, transmitting his voice to the fleet. "This is your admiral, Emet Ben-Ari. Rally around me!"

  Scarred and dented, his surviving starships sputtered toward the Jerusalem. They banded together, facing the storm. Soon Brooklyn was flying back up and rejoined the fleet, Leona and Coral safely aboard.

  As Emet stared at the battle, space seemed to crack open.

  A new starship emerged from warped space.

  Emet inhaled sharply. Through his comm, he heard the other commanders gasp.

  This new starship dwarfed even the mightiest warships in the battle. It was a dark triangle the size of a city, trimmed with gold. Glyphs of fire blazed across it, spelling its name.

  The Imperator.

  "The Hierarchy's imperial dreadnought," Emet whispered. "Emperor Sin Kra came here himself to oversee his victory."

  A hush fell across the battle. Starships from both sides held their fire and turned to face the Imperator. By the mighty imperial ship, they seemed like toys. The Imperator loomed above them, blocking the starlight, casting a shadow over the devastation.

  Emet's control panel flashed.

  A communication request.

  The signal was a direct beam between the imperial dreadnought and the ISS Jerusalem.

  The Imperator was contacting Emet—and Emet alone.

  He accepted the call.

  The Jerusalem's monitor displayed an image of the Imperator's bridge. A scorpion stood there. A towering Skra-Shen, three times the size of the smaller aliens who knelt around him. A scorpion with a crimson shell. A crown of human bones topped the beast's head.

  Emet recognized him.

  Here stood Sin Kra, emperor of the Skra-Shen and all the Hierarchy.

  The creature who murdered my wife, Emet thought.

  The massive scorpion stared into Emet's eyes, mouth shut, face blank. Emet stared back.

  The emperor said nothing. His eyes narrowed the slightest. Emet refused to look away.

  The two leaders—lord of scorpions and shepherd of humans—stared at each other across the battle.

  The call ended.

  The vision vanished.

  With flashes of searing red light, the scorpion fleet opened fire, charging back into battle.

  Emet pulled the Jerusalem aside, dodging plasma blasts. He took cover behind the husk of an Aelonian warship, only for the enemy to tear the derelict apart. Across space, the Concord fleet was crumbling. The Imperator's firepower was terrifying. It blasted forth fusion bombs like small suns. Each blast was enough to destroy an entire warship. The Concord shattered before the emperor's might.

  "All Concord vessels, fall back!" came a transmission from Admiral Melitar, commander of the Concord armada. "Back into the wormhole! Fall back, all ships—fall back!"

  Emet spoke into his comm. "All Inheritor ships, back into the wormhole!"

  The retreat began.

  The wormhole could only let in one ship at a time. Hundreds gathered around the opening, desperate to flee. With every heartbeat, the scorpion ships took out another Concord vessel. Some warships still tried to fight, to attack the emperor, but the Imperator's mighty cannons shattered them. Nuclear blasts bloomed across space, bathing the fleet with radiation. The emperor was concentrating his firepower on the wormhole, tearing through the Concord ships trying to escape.

  Emet gritted his teeth.

  We ain't escaping through no damn wormhole tonight.

  "Inheritors, away from the wormhole!" Emet cried. "Use your warp drives! After me!"

  One by one, the last Inheritor starships activated their warp drives. The Cagayan de Oro. The Bridgetown. The Jaipur. All the others who had survived. They bent spacetime even so close together, denting their hulls, some cracking open. With flashes of light, they blasted into the distance, moving at millions of kilometers per second. It was slower than a wormhole, but it would get them to safety.

  Finally only the Brooklyn and Jerusalem remained behind. Aboard the shuttle—Bay, Leona, Rowan, and Coral. Aboard the Jerusalem—Emet alone.

  So many lost, Emet thought. Duncan is gone. So many heroes fallen.

  He looked at the battle, at the hundreds of starships retreating madly, many still falling to the enemy fire. An Aelonian frigate crumbled before his eyes and blazed down toward the marshy planet. The Hierarchy was completing its conquest of the system, its first foothold in Concord space.

  A new Galactic War began, Emet thought. And we lost our first battle.

  "Dad?" Bay spoke through the comm.

  "Let's go," Emet said.

  The Brooklyn and Jerusalem activated their azoth drives. They blasted away from the battle.

  The stars streamed at their sides. They flew deeper into the Concord, leaving fallen heroes behind.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  For a long time, the Heirs of Earth flew, beaten, bruised, nearly broken.

  The remnants of their fleet limped across the galaxy, leaving behind the fire, the devastation of their hope.

  Rowan sat inside the Brooklyn, wrapped in a thermal blanket. According to Fillister, she had spent only nineteen seconds in the vacuum of space before Bay had rescued her. Strange. It had felt much longer. Another second or two, and it would have killed her. Her eyes were still bloodshot, her face bruised, her skin raw. Medics had injected her with life-saving fluids, treated her for ebullism and hypoxia, and prevented the worst of the space sickness. Even so, Rowan felt like she had been turned inside out, run through a blender, dunked into a frozen ocean, burned in an oven, and finally run over by a steamroller.

  And it felt amazing.

  She was alive.

  She tightened her blanket around her, then gazed through Brooklyn's porthole at the remains of humanity's fleet.

  "We failed to beat them," Rowan said. "I thought that we could defeat the scorpions. That we could save the millions who cry out in the gulocks. That I could get my sister back." She turned away from the porthole. "But they won. They won, Bay. What will become of us now?"

  Brooklyn's cabin was cluttered and small, barely larger than a modest bedroom. A few of Bay's drawings hung on the wall, and his clothes lay on the floor. He rose from his chair, then sat beside her on the bed.

  "We're still here," Bay said. "A few of us survived. There's still hope."

  "I'm afraid, Bay. I'm so afraid. This isn't like the movies at all. When you came into my life, when you promised to save me from Paradise Lost, I thought . . . I thought I was going on an adventure. Like in the old stories. Like Frodo or Luke or the rest of them. But they always defeated their enemies. They always won, Bay." She lowered her head, shaking. "I thought I would find a galaxy of wonder. But I found darkness and loss."

  Bay embraced her, and she wept against his chest.

  "Rowan, there is always hope." He stroked her hair and gazed into her eyes. "Those heroes, the ones from your stories—they had to go through much darkness before finding the light. They had to travel through
lands of despair before finding realms of plenty. I believe that there's hope for us. That we can still pass through this darkness. That at the end, we can find . . ."

  "Find what, Bay?" she whispered, gazing into his eyes. "Find what?"

  "Earth," he said.

  She smiled, tasting her tears. "So are you with us, Bay Ben-Ari? On our quest to Earth?"

  For a long moment, he was silent, but then he spoke softly. "Ten years ago, Rowan, I fell in love. I fell in love with a sunny planet where my father was recruiting warriors. I fell in love with a local girl. I fell in love with a life away from war. I thought my heaven would be there. So I ran away. I was fourteen, and I stole Brooklyn, and I ran from my father and hid in the forest and vowed to remain on that sunny paradise." He looked into her eyes. "Then the scorpions came. I was the only survivor."

  She touched his cheek. "I'm sorry."

  "For a long time, I blamed my father." His voice choked. "I was angry. I thought he didn't fight for that world the way he fought for Earth. But I understand now. That Earth is our home. The home that was stolen from us. The world we evolved on, fled from—and to which we must return. So yes." He too smiled. "I'm with you, Rowan Emery. I'm with all of you. I'm with the Heirs of Earth."

  She pulled him into a crushing embrace. They sat together for a long time, holding each other, silently weeping and laughing.

  "Hey, Bay?" Rowan finally said, wiping her eyes.

  "Yeah?"

  Rowan grinned and pulled out the Earthstone. "We should watch the second Lord of the Rings movie now."

  "Oh God no." Bay paled.

  Rowan's grin widened. "You have no choice. I'm making you. Making you! Even if I must sit on you, and squish you, and force you to stay in place, you're watching this movie with me."

  He sighed. "No use arguing with a hobbit, is there?"

  She grinned. "Nope!"

  "On one condition." Bay opened his little freezer and pulled out a plastic package. "We also eat these. Pancakes! They're only the frozen kind, not real ones, but—"

  "Frickin' pancakes!" Rowan pulled him into a crushing embrace. "A dream come true!"

  They ate, and they were delicious.

  Rowan then streamed the movie onto his monitor, and they lay together on the bed. Back in the ducts, when watching the first movie, they had been cramped, forced to lie holding each other. There was more room here, but Rowan still snuggled against him. He wrapped his arms around her, and she kissed his hand. He stroked her hair throughout the movie, and she smiled softly. Though the galaxy burned, and her heart was filled with loss and fear, for the next three hours, Rowan felt safe in his arms.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  The Heirs of Earth flew for long days. Finally, Emet led them to a snowy planet orbiting a small cold star, a world far from civilization.

  Yet not a world far from war, Emet knew. Not a safe world. A new Galactic War has begun. Soon there will be no safe world in the galaxy.

  He stood on the bridge of the Jerusalem, this battered tanker, this old warship. This place where he had lost so many friends. He gazed down at the frozen world. A sanctuary. A world far from home.

  They had only a handful of starships. Most could not fly in atmosphere, and they remained in orbit. The survivors descended to the surface in shuttles. Three hundred Inheritors had flown to battle the scorpions. Half never made it back. Emet led the survivors through the snow. Flurries billowed their blue coats and stung their faces. Many were wounded. They carried some of the wounded on stretchers. The sky was dim, even at noon. The sun was small and blue and cold.

  Finally they reached the caves in the mountainside. They climbed inside to find the rest of their people. Over a thousand humans sat inside, wrapped in blankets. A few engines, taken from shuttles and mounted on metal frames, provided heat.

  These people escaped the horrors of the gulocks, Emet thought. They deserve better than a frozen cave. Yet they are far more fortunate than the millions who still cry out. Who still die in agony. Whom I still must save.

  The people gathered around him. They whispered prayers. Some reached out to touch him, to thank him.

  "Bless you, Emet Ben-Ari," said an old woman.

  "Bless you, lion of Earth!" said an old man.

  "Blessed be the heir of Queen Einav, the Golden Lioness," said a young woman, eyes shining. "Blessed be the prophet who will lead us home."

  Emet looked at them all. Ragged, hungry survivors. They believed in him. They saw him as a hero.

  But I'm no hero, he thought.

  He noticed that Rowan kept her distance. That she sometimes glanced at him with fear. Even with hatred.

  I had to do it, Rowan, Emet thought. To open the airlock. To blast Jade out. Even if it meant sacrificing my life—and yours. She is more dangerous than you know. She has killed millions. And she will kill again.

  He tried to meet Rowan's eyes, but she looked away. Emet knew that it would be a long while before Rowan forgave him. Maybe she never would.

  Emet looked over the crowd in the icy cave. Bay stood nearby, wearing his old hood and baggy sweatshirt whose sleeves hid his hands. Rowan stood by him, wearing her uniform, still carrying Lullaby, her pistol. Leona stood there too, wearing her blue blazer with the brass buttons, and her mane of brown curls flowed across her shoulders. There was a new strength in her eyes, but a new peace too. Hundreds of warriors and a thousand survivors stood farther back. All of them were the Heirs of Earth.

  Emet spoke to them.

  "Today we mourn our fallen. Today we grieve for the loved ones we lost. Let us stand in silence. Let us remember our martyrs."

  They stood in silence, heads lowered. Emet thought of Duncan, his dear friend. Of all the warriors he had led to battle. Of all those he had failed to save.

  He raised his head and spoke again.

  "A war for the fate of the galaxy has begun. And we lost our first battle. The blood of our fallen still haunts us. The cries of those still trapped in the gulocks echoes in our ears. Today it's hard to find hope, to find light in the darkness. But there is hope! Along with our grief, there is new light!"

  "What hope is there now!" cried a wounded warrior, his left arm gone. "My wife—she's gone. My children—burned in the fire. The Hierarchy spreads everywhere. What hope is there for humanity?"

  Voices muttered in agreement. Across the cave, many were afraid, whispering of death.

  Emet pulled a minicom from his pocket. He hit a button, and a hologram emerged and floated before him, ten feet tall. It displayed a starmap.

  "Here is hope!" Emet said. "Here is a gift from the Aelonians. We lost the Battle of Terminus. But the Heirs of Earth showed great courage and sacrifice. Leona led the Corvette Company, breaking a way through the enemy lines. Every human warrior showed the courage of ten Aelonians. We proved to the aliens that humans are no pests, but that we are brave, we are strong, we are a blessing to the galaxy! In gratitude, Admiral Melitar of the Aelonians gave us this map."

  The people gathered closer, peering at the hologram of a million stars.

  "What does it show?" asked a man.

  "This," Emet said, "is a map to Earth."

  The people gasped. Voices cried out in the crowd.

  "But Earth is lost!" shouted a woman.

  "Nobody's known Earth's location for years!"

  "Earth is just a myth!"

  Emet raised his hands, hushing them. "Maybe you're right! Maybe Earth is a myth. Maybe this map is false hope, leading to nothing but a barren world, not our homeworld. But I believe! I have hope. For the first time in centuries, we have a sign of Earth. We have coordinates. We know where to go."

  He hit a button on his minicom. The hologram changed, the image zooming in on one constellation. Then on one star. Then zooming in still, finally focusing on one planet. A blue world. A pale marble, orbiting in the darkness.

  Earth.

  "Earth!" the people cried. "It's Earth! Our home!"

  Tears flowed. They prayed. They sang
old songs. A few refugees scoffed, insisted this was forgery, but soon their voices fell silent, and perhaps they too believed.

  "Earth still lies very far away," Emet finally said. "It lies on the other side of the Concord, past much danger and hardship. A cruel alien empire, one that rose after our banishment, now rules this sector. They are a warlike race, strong and eager to fight. They swear only loose fealty to the Concord, and have spoken of joining the Hierarchy. We will have to fight for Earth. The battle will be long and hard. But we will fight! We will go home!"

  As the crowd cheered, one Inheritor stepped forward.

  Rowan.

  Her fists were clenched, and she glared up at Emet.

  "How can we abandon our people!" she said. "Millions of humans might still be alive in Hierarchy space. Millions might still be scattered across Concord worlds. They need us! How can we fly across the galaxy when our people cry out to us? How can we abandon our oaths?"

  Voices muttered agreements.

  "We will not abandon our oaths!" said Emet, raising his voice. "Every Inheritor makes a sacred vow. Wherever a human is in danger, we will be there. We face two wars! One war to reach Earth, to reclaim our home, even if we must win Earth with blood. A second war to stop the Hierarchy, to save all humans in exile from the scorpion claws. We will fight both wars! We will split our forces. One team of brave explorers will travel to Earth, though the journey will take many months, maybe even a year. They will fight to establish a colony on our sacred ancestral ground. The rest of our fleet will remain in exile, fighting the Hierarchy, saving every human we can. It will take blood and sacrifice. It will take years. Maybe decades. Maybe even generations. But I vow this: We will bring every human home to Earth!"

  "To Earth!" they cried. "To Earth!"

  Emet looked at Rowan. She looked away.

  Yes, it will be a while before you forgive me, Rowan, he thought. Before you understand.

  One of the warriors stepped closer. A young woman with long platinum hair, dark skin, and white tattoos. A weaver—a priestess of the mystical light of the cosmos.