"Take off your top!" a girl shouted in the crowd.
"Strip, strip!" chanted somebody else.
The drones shocked them silent. On the film, Ensign Earth continued smiling, undisturbed.
"Gosh darn it, it's good to see you all. You've made a brave choice, joining the HDF." Ensign Earth placed his fist on his heart. "Thanks to your noble choice, your families can sleep well tonight, knowing that you defend them."
"Not exactly my choice," Jon muttered, remembering the day the little brown envelope had arrived. He wondered how many people here were volunteers, and how many—like him—had been drafted. Judging by the scowls and mutters, practically everyone was here against their will.
"Well, golly!" Ensign Earth checked his watch. "Looks like it's time to watch my favorite movie. I like to call it: Why We Fight!"
A few soldiers in the crowd booed.
"Porn, porn, porn!" one recruit chanted, earning scattered laughter and some groans.
On screen, the handsome actor became solemn. "As you know, twenty years ago, Earth made a startling discovery. We discovered Bahay, a planet three hundred light-years away, far beyond the borders of our empire. A planet with millions of humans!"
"Well, golly!" Jon said, feigning interest. A few soldiers around him snickered.
Hey, who says I can't heckle too? he thought.
Ensign Earth continued, oblivious. "How is this possible, you ask? Well, to find out, we'll have to go back in time. Come with me as we travel back through the ages. All the way… to the nineteenth century."
A cloud of mist obscured the video, and dreamy harp strings trilled.
When the mist cleared, Ensign Earth was gone. The video now showed jittery black and white footage, complete with scratching noises and the odd hair on the frame. Palm trees rustled on a tropical island. A few fishermen stood on the beach. Letters appeared below the grainy video: DRAMATIZATION.
"Welcome to the peaceful islands of the Philippines!" rose Ensign Earth's disembodied voice. "In 1898, they are a tropical paradise, home to millions of friendly islanders."
The image showed a young Filipina picking papayas. She looked up at the camera and smiled brightly. Flowers bloomed in her hair.
"Show us your tits!" Clay shouted.
A few recruits laughed. Many rolled their eyes. Jon's hands itched to form fists and pummel the idiot. He forced himself to look back at the video.
Save your anger for the enemy, Jon, he told himself. Clay is an asshole, but you gotta pick your battles.
Ensign Earth continued to narrate the video, which now showed Filipinos emerging from bamboo huts, pointing at the sky, and crying out.
"And then, in 1899, evil came!" the film announced.
The video panned upward, showing luminous orbs descending toward the tropical islands.
"Santelmos!" somebody shouted in the crowd.
"Aliens!" shouted another recruit.
"Murderers!"
"Killers!"
Jon stared at the video, and he gritted his teeth. The Santelmos glided downward to the beaches. They were strange aliens with no physical forms, at least none that Jon could see. They appeared as blobs of light, nebulous, dimming and brightening, shrinking and expanding, as fickle as beads of sunlight on the waves.
Most aliens in the galaxy, to be blunt, were ugly fuckers. Jon had seen photographs, videos, and toys of space bugs, the kind of aliens who used to attack Earth a century ago. Those were nasty critters, all claws and fangs and scales. But the Santelmos were different. Not ugly. Even beautiful in a way.
But evil.
Perhaps more evil than any mindless space bug. Jon had grown up hearing tales of Santelmo malice.
Because of these bastards, Paul is dead, he thought.
The crowd booed. A few recruits rose and shouted at the screen. Clearly, Jon was not alone. So many had lost friends and family to these balls of light.
"The Santelmos!" announced Ensign Earth, speaking from off screen. "They're really nasty guys. Evildoers. Ancient aliens from a distant empire. For centuries, they studied Earth. Until one day, they recruited traitors from our very world."
"The slits!" somebody shouted hoarsely.
"Traitors!"
"Alien lovers!"
The voices in the crowd rang out. On the video, they all saw it happen. The Red Cardinal, leader of the exodus, guided a flock of Filipinos toward the slender silvery starships. The vessels rose, leaving Earth, and flashed toward the distant stars.
Jon clenched his jaw. He knew this wasn't an authentic historical video. It was a reenactment. But he couldn't stop the anger. How could humans do this? How could humans betray Earth, defect to an alien empire, and work with such evil creatures?
The video showed the alien starships travel toward a distant planet, an ocean world dotted with islands.
"Bahay!" came Ensign Earth's voice. "A planet three hundred light-years away, accessible only by wormhole. There the Santelmos bred the human defectors. There, over centuries, the traitors multiplied into a nation of millions. There the Santelmos trained their human pets to become killers."
Yes, Jon knew the stories. It wasn't Santelmos who had murdered his brother. Not directly, at least. It was the native Bahayans. Human traitors who served the aliens.
"Twenty years ago," continued Ensign Earth's narration, "a brave explorer named Thomas Emery discovered Bahay. He learned about the missing human population. Earth sent a starship to liberate the Bahayans from their alien masters. But the aliens had turned the Bahayans against us! They built, brainwashed, and armed vast terrorist networks."
"Boo! Boo!" rose cries from the crowd. "Aliens suck!"
A few of those jeers sounded decidedly cynical. But most seemed full of true hatred.
Ensign Earth reappeared on screen, solemn. "Most Bahayans crave freedom. They loathe the terrorists who serve the aliens. And you know what heroes like me do? We fight evil-doers! And now, you're all heroes too. Together, we'll liberate Bahay! We'll banish the alien menace! We'll punish the Bahayan traitors! And gosh darn it, we'll bring Bahay into the embrace of the Human Commonwealth. Today Bahay is a rogue planet, overrun with aliens, and home to millions of hostages. But after our victory, it will become our most precious colony."
The phoenix banner returned—symbol of the Human Defense Force, billowing proudly.
"Boring!" somebody cried from the crowd.
"Play Freebird!" cried somebody else.
Ensign Earth smiled his huge toothy smile. "Woo! That was an exciting movie, wasn't it? Now how about we all stand up and sing my favorite song?"
The actor saluted the flag. Earth's anthem began to play.
Everyone in the gym rose and began to sing.
O Earth!
Our pale blue home
O Earth!
The world we love
Among all the stars
Your sun is brightest
Among all the worlds
You we call our home
In darkness we yearn for you
Under your sky we bless you
With all our courage we defend you
Forever you shall be
Our planet strong and free
O Earth!
Our pale blue home
O Earth!
The world we love
As he sang, Jon remembered the stories he learned at school, from books, and from his great-grandfather. Tales of the Alien Wars.
It was the twenty-third century now, an era of human might. The Human Commonwealth spread across multiple worlds, an empire centered around Earth. But the twenty-second century had been an era of terror. Earth had reached into space too soon, too weak, perhaps too curious. They had stirred the hornet's nest. Wave after wave of alien invasions had pummeled Earth, beating down this impudent young species that dared to reach for the stars.
Yes, last century had been an era of fear. But also of Earth's greatest heroes. Everyone knew their names. Marco Emery, the War Poet. Addy Linden, Queen of Fire, heroine of th
e Summer Uprising against the marauders. Lailani de la Rosa, the Heroine of the Rose, who had brought hope in humanity's darkest hour. And of course, Einav Ben-Ari, the Golden Lioness, her name etched alongside Alexander the Great, Caesar, and Napoleon. Einav Ben-Ari, a war heroine, a space explorer, a leader of humanity. She had built an empire among the stars.
History would forever remember these names.
But that was a century ago. Humanity had won. The aliens had retreated. The Age of Heroes was over.
Now is my generation's chance, Jon thought. Now we can become heroes. Now we can fight for Earth like they did. Now we can write our own legends.
His chest swelled with pride. He had grown up idolizing those heroes from the history books. They had fought against evil. They had sacrificed for humanity. And they had become legends.
I always dreamed of being a musician, Jon thought. Of composing great music. But maybe, in the army, I can be great too. We can be heroes.
Hatred filled him again. Hatred of the Santelmos, aliens who turned human against human. Hatred of the Bahayans, traitors, slits. Working together, the aliens and terrorists had murdered too many innocent people, ruined too many families.
I'm a soldier now, Bahay, Jon thought. I don't have aliens helping me. I will show you human strength.
Chapter Eight
The Toad
The mote of light flitted across the rice paddies, and Maria followed.
"Crisanto, come back here! Don't be bad!"
But the little Santelmo kept flying ahead, zooming over the terraces like a mad firefly.
Santelmos were strange creatures. She often spoke to her pet, and she swore he understood her language. Yet he rarely obeyed her, more like a stubborn cat than a dog.
Cat? Dog? No, those were not right comparisons. Even calling him a pet seemed unfair. Santelmos were intelligent. They flew starships. They ruled a galactic empire. But they could barely communicate with humans. Many times, Maria had tried to teach Crisanto how to spell letters in the air, if only figure eights. But the little blob of light would never learn—either too young, too alien, or simply too stubborn.
Now she wondered if he understood anything at all.
"Crisanto, come back to me!"
She paused for breath. She stood in a rice paddy, the water rising halfway up her shins. She leaned forward, placed her hands on her thighs, and took deep breaths. She had lost her straw hat somewhere during the run, and her hair clung to her cheeks, damp with sweat.
He fluttered up toward her, spun in mad circles, and flew onward.
"Fine, fine. I'm coming!"
Maria kept running.
She followed the luminous orb across the paddies, through the avocado grove, and there they reached it.
The jungle wall.
It loomed before them. The trees soared. Maria was used to Old World trees, those brought here from Earth. Trees like banana and papaya and guava, trees barely taller than her that gave sweet fruit.
But these trees, the native trees of Bahay, were different creatures entirely. They were taller than all the huts in San Luna stacked together. They bore no fruit, for they were not trees to give life but to harbor death. Their shade was not a welcome relief from the sun but a dark, pitiless abyss. She could see only a few steps ahead. Vines dangled in the mist. Yellow eyes peered from the shadows. A distant cry rang out—the call of a mourning monk, echoing and alien.
Crisanto paused as if to steel himself, then glided into the jungle.
Maria sighed.
"You're running off again?" She waved her hand dismissively. "Fine. Go then! I can't stop you."
The glowing orb paused among the trees. He hovered in the jungle, a speck of light in the shadows like a single eye, watching her.
Maria tilted her head. "What's wrong, Crisanto? Are you lonely in San Luna? Do you want to find your people? Your parents?" She lowered her head. "If you must leave me too, then leave. Everyone is leaving, and I feel so alone." Her eyes dampened. "I'm sorry. I should not just complain about myself. If you wish to seek another life, another family, I wish you well." Her tears flowed. "Goodbye, my friend."
She could not bear to say any more. She began walking back toward her village, blinded by tears.
Crisanto raced through the air, placed himself before her, and blocked her way.
"Crisanto!" She laughed and wiped her eyes.
He spun in rings around her. He thumped into her chest, weighing no more than a dandelion seed. He flew back into the jungle, then seemed to look at her. To beckon.
"You want me to follow?"
He bobbed up and down.
"I can't, Crisanto. I'm scared."
But he kept flying around her like a pesky mosquito, urging her into the jungle.
Maria bit her lip. Why was he doing this? Finally her curiosity overcame her fear.
Be brave, Maria. Two of your betrothed went off to war. Surely you can take a few steps into a forest.
She took one step.
Then another.
Then a third.
For the first time in her life, she walked through the rainforest.
Bibigpuno trees rose around her like cathedral columns. The Earthlings called them fangwoods, for their leaves were toothy and hungry like Venus flytraps. Mamula trees rose around them, their pollen glowing, while the pagluna trees seeped white sap valued in tribal medicine. Roots formed buttresses, rising taller than Maria's head, twisting, coiling, sprouting boles toward the lofty canopy. More roots coiled beneath her feet, braiding together, cradling puddles of water full of particolored fish. Mist floated among the boughs, and curtains of moss swayed like ghosts. Vines draped from the branches, and ivy and lichen crawled over boulders and fallen logs. Mushrooms grew from tree trunks, and flowerbugs scuttled everywhere, blue and green and chirruping. Every once in a while, a slender branch stretched out, and leafy jaws snapped shut, catching an insect.
Maria took another step. The trees creaked, grumbled, and groaned. They were speaking to Maria in a language she could not understand. She knew their names. And they knew her. In their strange wooden sounds she could hear her name. Maria… Maria…
The place chilled her. But there was beauty here too. It was an entire universe, a biosphere that covered the islands of Bahay, ancient beyond knowing. This rainforest had grown here for millions of years before humans arrived on Bahay. A place of antiquity and secrets. And suddenly it seemed to Maria that Bahay, the entire planet, was a single organism. And that it mourned.
This rainforest scares me, but it's precious, she thought. And in the north, the Earthling are burning it. The rainforest weeps.
Crisanto hovered over a fallen bole, peering like an eye. Many true eyes glowed among roots, inside trunks, and from burrows under outcrops of soil and moss. Whatever animals were watching remained hidden.
Crisanto flew deeper. And Maria followed.
"Crisanto, slow down! I can't run here. There are so many obstacles."
She wondered how the Kalayaan operated here. Every step was a struggle. She had to keep climbing over coiling roots, boulders, and fallen logs. Sometimes she had to wriggle between vines and bushes, even crawl under low roots. Animals hissed at her from burrows, and vines snagged at her dress with leafy fingers. A few times, she had to jump over gurgling rivulets. The tongues of submerged creatures rose from the water, lapping at her feet, perhaps mistaking her for a jubatus bat.
"Crisanto, where are we going?" Maria said. "We can get lost in here."
She stopped and looked around. Fear flooded her.
What am I doing?
She had been walking for only a few moments. Surely, the village was still near. But she was utterly lost. She might as well have been standing on an alien world.
Everywhere—the rainforest. Mist among the trees, and draping vines, and creaking roots that spread and coiled like tentacles. A howl rose above, maybe just a mourning monk. A glimmerbird shrieked and fluttered overhead, shedding iridescent feathers the le
ngth of Maria's arms.
She did not know north from south, east from west. The jungle was like the sea. Even just a few meters in you could drown. She could try to retrace her steps back home. But she was likely to stray the wrong way, to move deeper into the rainforest, to vanish in this world. A different reality. This was Bahay, the world her heart beat for, but suddenly the planet seemed so alien.
My people have been here for three centuries, she thought. But that's nothing. These trees have lived here for millions of years. Maybe billions. And they're watching me. They have eyes.
"Crisanto?" she whispered.
She could barely see him. He hovered ahead through the mist, going farther, deeper, becoming smaller. Maria remembered the stories she had heard. Back on Earth, people had called the Santelmo the wills-o'-the-wisp, thinking them magical creatures. And perhaps they were. This were not life as Maria understood it, yet here she was, following one through the murk.
A guttural sound, a sort of groan or croak, bubbled up from below. Maria paused. A strange toad sat at her feet. She had nearly stepped on it. Its skin was translucent, revealing glowing orbs among crystalline bones. At first, she worried that the toad had swallowed Crisanto, but no. Those glowing orbs were its organs, the heart red, the lungs glimmering white, the blood vessels blue and as intricate as the roots in the forest.
"A panaginip palaka!" she whispered.
She had heard of these beings. Dreamtoads. In the early days of Bahay, the shamans would seek them in the rainforest. It was said that a panaginip palaka could reveal the future to those worthy.
Maria knelt and lifted the dreamtoad, and warmth spread through her. Her head spun, like it did sometimes when the village elders burned the holy mamula leaves.
The toad gazed into her eyes.
"It will be the only way to save her," the toad said. "You must use his knife."
Maria yelped and dropped the toad. It gave a deep croaking ribbit, then hopped off. Had she merely imagined its words?
She blinked and rubbed her eyes, still feeling dizzy.
A cry pierced the air.
At first, she thought it another mourning monk scuttling among the branches, or maybe another glimmerbird.
The Earthling (Soldiers of Earthrise Book 1) Page 7