The Legacy of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 6)

by Daniel Arenson

  Bay and Rowan knelt before her.

  They all knew the tales of Einav Ben-Ari. Of the legendary leader of Earth. The heroine who had led humanity's fleets in Earth's Golden Age two thousand years ago.

  Leona had told her friends how she had found the Golden Lioness living on Menoria. How Einav and Aurora had traveled to another galaxy, flying faster than light, then came back home to find that two thousand years had gone by.

  Leona knew her friends had doubted her. Leona had often doubted herself as well. Was it just some old woman with a tall tale?

  But Rowan raised her minicom, bringing up a photo from ancient Earth. She ran a quick software scan, then gasped.

  "The faces match perfectly," Rowan whispered. "It's her. It's really her."

  "Of course it's me!" Einav said. "Who were you expecting? E.T.?"

  Leona couldn't help but laugh. She stepped closer and gently embraced the elderly woman. "But ma'am, when we met on Menoria, you told me that you could never travel again. That even the slightest time dilation would affect your aging, that you wouldn't survive the trip."

  Einav nodded. "Indeed. And that is true for standard warp flight. But Aurora and I learned a trick from our mutual friend, little Rowan here." Einav smiled at the weaver. "We learned about your talaria cannons. We learned how to build one. Okay, to be fair, we ripped you off. But it brought us here safely, and it brought us here to help. So I think that makes up for it."

  Rowan's eyes were the size of saucers. "I'm honored, ma'am!" She knelt again. "You're my heroine! I read all your books!"

  Einav scoffed. "The History of the Galactic Wars? Posh. Boring tomes. You should instead read the books of Marco Emery, my friend and your ancestor. Now he could spin a yarn!"

  "I've read those too, ma'am," Rowan said. "I loved them. I'm a huge bookworm and fan of your era. I watched almost all the movies from your time! And read thousands of books! And listened to the music! Oh, ma'am, do you like K-pop?"

  Einav frowned. "K-Pop? Is that anything like Brahms?"

  Leona sighed. "Forgive Rowan. She gets excitable."

  "I look forward to many hours talking to you both," Einav said. "But not here. Not on this desolate planet. Bah! The air smells like exhaust." Her voice softened. "Let's get our people into these ships, my friends. Let's all go home."

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  They buried their dead on a warm spring day.

  Earth was blooming. Wildflowers filled the land with color. Robins, blackbirds, and chickadees sang among young maples and birches. Bumblebees, grasshoppers, and butterflies bustled between bushes, going about their business as if no fire had ever raged. It seemed almost cruel to Bay, a mockery of fate, that they should bury so many fallen heroes, so many loved ones, on such a beautiful day.

  Geese glided above him. Bay watched them pass. He had never seen geese before.

  Life is returning to Earth. And on this day, I must bury my father.

  Bay wiped his eyes.

  "But maybe, Dad, you would have wanted it this way," he said. "Not to be buried on some gloomy winter day, a day of tears and despair. But on a day of beauty and life. This is what you fought for, Dad. Earth. And we're here. And it's beautiful."

  Aurora's fleet had flown the human army home. Thousands of survivors. But also thousands of dead.

  The Human Defense Force returned home victorious. They had defeated the basilisks, killed Xerka, won the war. Earth was free. Everything they had fought for—all these years, these long generations—they had won.

  But there were no celebrations. No victory marches. No dances or songs of joy. The cost was nearly too great to bear. Everyone on Earth grieved this day. On their day of victory, they buried the thousands.

  They created a new cemetery outside of Port Addison, and they named it Heroes' Field. It was not a cemetery of neat, well-trimmed lawns and orderly tombstones. They buried their fallen in the hills among wildflowers and saplings. They carved tombstones from local stones, engraving them with names and symbols.

  So many trees on Earth had burned. There was not enough wood for coffins. Bay carried Brooklyn wrapped in a shroud, and he buried her on the hill where they had made love.

  "It's a beautiful place, Brooklyn," he said. "You'll have flowers and bumblebees during the day, and I promise to keep the ants away. At night you'll be able to look at the stars. Do you remember how we stargazed here?"

  Then his grief became too great, and Bay could no longer speak. He missed his best friend. Rowan stepped up and slipped her hand into his.

  "Goodbye, Brooklyn," Rowan whispered, eyes damp. "I'll miss you every day."

  They placed a boulder at her grave, and they engraved it with a circle, the symbol of Earth, and with words.

  Brooklyn

  4140 - 4156

  Friend. Heroine. Human.

  Bay and Rowan walked away solemnly. They climbed a nearby hill. Thousands of people were gathering here. They moved aside, heads bowed, to let Bay and Rowan pass. They walked through the crowd.

  Leona and Tom were already there. Bay and Rowan joined them by the hilltop grave.

  Together, the four of them lowered him into his final resting place. The crowd wept. Twenty-one guns saluted Earth's fallen leader. Their guiding light. The man who had brought them home.

  Emet Ben-Ari, the Old Lion, was gone.

  "We all knew him as a hero," Bay said, standing over the grave. "We all know of the famous Emet Ben-Ari who founded the Heirs of Earth, who fought across the galaxy to save humans in danger. We all know the famous Old Lion who roared in the face of the scorpions, who led us in war, who brought us home to Earth. We all know of Earth's first president, the leader who faced down Xerka, who gave his life to win our freedom. His legend will never die. Earth is eternal, and Earth will never forget his sacrifice."

  Bay paused for a moment. He had to wipe his eyes.

  "I remember the legend. But I also remember another man. One few people knew. I remember the man who stayed at my bedside when I was a child, sick with fever. I remember the man who taught me to toss a ball, to play chess, to count and read and dream. He led humanity. But he was never too busy for his children. He was always there for Leona and me. To love us. Teach us. And he was so proud of us. I miss you, Dad. I love you. You are my father and my hero. Goodbye."

  The others spoke next.

  Leona spoke of honoring her father's ways, of leading Earth with the same courage, of not straying from his path. Cindy spoke with great dignity, eyes damp but chin raised, of the man she loved. Tom spoke of enduring friendship. Rowan spoke of her hero. Every word was beautiful, bringing tears to the eyes of every listener.

  Others spoke too. Friends of Emet, everyone from lofty generals to humble privates. He had touched everyone's lives. Some shared tales of heroism and great battles. But most spoke of another man. A kind man. A man who could be so serious at one moment, then laugh uproariously at a bad joke. A man who led armies, but who also loved literature and history. Not just a legend. A human.

  Tom had prepared the tombstone from a limestone boulder, its one side polished to a sheen, the other still natural and craggy. Tom had carved a Star of David onto the front, symbol of the ancient faith of the Ben-Ari family, and a circle beside it, symbolizing the unity of Earth and all humanity. Below these symbols Tom had engraved words.

  Emet Ben-Ari

  4095 - 4156

  Devoted father and husband

  First President of New Earth

  Bay read those words again.

  New Earth.

  Yes, the Golden Age of Earth had ended long ago. Perhaps they could never restore Earth to that old glory. But this was a new Earth. A chance to forge their own culture. To write their own books, sing their own songs, tell their own tales. Rowan had spent her life dedicated to the cultural heritage contained within the Earthstone, and they would protect and cherish that heritage. But they would also create new treasures.

  When the funerals ended, Bay stood for a moment with h
is friends and family. He gazed across the hills.

  He saw rows and rows of tombstones. Thousands of them. Some engraved with the Sun Disk of Ra. Others with crosses, Stars of David, spoked wheels, or crescent moons. Many with the circles of Earth. Regardless of faith, they had fought united. And they would be remembered as one tribe. As heroes.

  That evening, Bay and his companions went to the mess hall. They piled their plates high with food. They sat down to eat, and there were so many empty chairs. Missing faces. Silenced laughter.

  For a moment, everyone at the table sat still, not eating. Rowan lowered her head. They sat, silent.

  Bay stood up. He raised his mug of beer.

  "For Ramses, who loved coffee, and for Mairead, who loved good whiskey. For Brooklyn and Coral and Luther. For Duncan. For Rowan's parents. For Jade. For Emet Ben-Ari. For all those we lost. They're still here with us. In spirit. In our collective memory. For the lost. And for life!"

  "For life!" they all replied, raising their cups. Across the mess hall, a thousand survivors raised their drinks too. "For life!"

  They began to eat. Silent at first. But then Leona told the story of that time Mairead had tied Ramses's shoelaces together, then waved a handful of earthworms at him, making him run and trip. Bay imitated Luther with a raspy voice, singing one of the old man's blues songs. And soon Rowan was reciting Monty Python sketches, complete with the accents. Everyone at the table was laughing so loudly tears ran down their cheeks and they could barely breathe.

  Bay reached under the table and held Rowan's hand. She smiled at him, light in her eyes.

  I love you, Rowan, he thought. More than anything.

  "For life," she whispered to him, eyes sparkling.

  He kissed her cheek. "For life."

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  The next morning, Leona went to visit the elderly woman in her tent.

  It was a small, humble tent, but on the inside, it had become a cozy home. Einav Ben-Ari sat in a rocking chair, sipping chamomile tea and reading a novel. "Che Gelida Manina" was playing from an old-fashioned music player, a relic of ancient Earth technology. Aurora was sitting—at least, as much as a tentacled mollusk could sit—on an ottoman, nursing several of her own cups of tea.

  "Good morning, ladies," Leona said.

  Einav raised her eyes from her book—Portrait in Sepia by Isabel Allende.

  "Good morning, dear. Would you care for some chamomile? Or something a little stronger? We do have some Earl Grey around here."

  "Not anymore," said Aurora, sipping from her cup.

  Einav gasped. "Oh, you beastly octopus! If you didn't drink five cups at once!"

  "I'm ninety percent water, you know," the Menorian said.

  "You're ninety percent Earl Grey tea! They don't make that anymore on Earth, you know."

  "Ladies, ladies!" Leona laughed. "There's plenty of tea in the mess hall."

  Einav wrinkled her nose. "Ghastly stuff. A top priority for New Earth is a robust tea industry."

  Leona sighed. She sat down beside the elderly woman. She contemplated Einav for a moment. Beneath the playful exterior, there was deep wisdom and strength in Einav's eyes. Here was the Golden Lioness herself, after all. The woman who had inherited a dying Earth and built an empire.

  "Ma'am," Leona said softly. "Are you sure you don't want to reveal yourself to the crowds? To inspire them?"

  Einav patted Leona's hand. "I'm sure, Leona. I don't crave fame. And I best inspire these people as an old tale from legend. Let them remember me from those stories. They have new heroes to look up to now. The heroes who gave their lives in the war to save Earth. And the heroes who will lead them onward. They don't need the Golden Lioness. They have you. They have an Iron Lioness."

  Leona nodded. "When you came here to Earth, I thought …" She took a deep breath. "I thought you would lead us. Like you did once before."

  Einav looked away. She stared at the tent wall in silence for a long moment, perhaps remembering days long ago. A different era. A different struggle.

  "I'm old, Leona," she finally said. "I'm in my nineties, and I've fought so many foes, seen so many wonders. I'm tired. And I'm dying."

  "Ma'am!" Leona said.

  Einav turned toward her and smiled softly. "It's my time, is all. I lived a long life. I married a wonderful man, and I had a wonderful son, and I got to meet you. My descendant." She stroked Leona's curly hair. "I am so proud of you. You will lead Earth now, Leona. There will be struggles ahead. There will be more foes who rise to destroy us. There will be more wars. More heartbreak. More need for strong leaders. But there will be joy too. There will be light and life. Your road will pass through darkness and fire before the end. But along that road, there will be such beautiful light. You will walk that road proudly. The road of your father and forbears. You will not stray. And they will all walk behind you."

  Leona couldn't stop her tears. She embraced her heroine.

  "Thank you for your words," Leona whispered.

  Einav raised her finger, as if remembering something. She rose from her chair, rummaged through a chest, and returned to Leona. She handed her a shadowbox. Behind the glass pane were ancient medals.

  "These are from your ancestors," Einav said. "Medals my father, grandfather, and other soldiers in our family won in old wars. See these ones? These are from what we call the Second World War. Back when we humans still fought one another. I carried this box with me since joining the military at age eighteen. I carried it with me to war. It's a reminder of heroism. Not only of our family. But of humanity. I'd like you to have it."

  Leona accepted it solemnly. "Thank you, ma'am. I don't know what to say. I will cherish this gift. I hope I don't have to take it to any more wars."

  Einav stroked Leona's cheek, suddenly seeming so sad. "I hope so too, Leona." She smiled sadly. "I have one more gift for you."

  Einav removed her necklace. A medallion hung from the golden chain, shaped like a lion's paw holding a crystal. It was an azoth crystal, Leona realized. The crystal that made space travel possible.

  "This crystal was inside the HDFS Lodestar," Einav said. "The flagship of the Human Defense Force at its mightiest."

  Leona's eyes widened. "The starship you commanded! It's legendary."

  Einav slung the necklace around Leona's neck. "Earth is now yours. Lead with strength and wisdom. I believe in you, Leona Ben-Ari." She cleared her throat. "Now! Aurora, get off your lazy backside! Leona here is going to accompany us to the hills outside the city, and we're going to search for some proper flowers to make more tea. I'm thinking dandelions should do the trick."

  They took a Menorian shuttle there—a geode the size of a car that floated out of the city. They hovered past the cemetery to the wild foothills by the mountains. Dandelions blanketed the hills, while bluebells carpeted the valleys. Einav alighted from the pod and spent an hour collecting dandelions, then returned home to brew tea.

  The next day, she asked Leona and Aurora to join her again. They spent another morning at the hills, collecting dandelions, brewing tea. And as they worked, Einav spoke to Leona. She told her tales of long ago. Of what she had learned. Of leadership. Of motherhood. Of life and mankind.

  For fourteen days, they spent every morning in the hills, collecting flowers. Talking. Teaching and learning.

  Until one day the dandelions were gone. And Einav sat on the grass, and gazed at the river flowing below, at the birds gliding above, at the city in the valley, rising from despair to hope.

  "This is a good place," Einav said softly. "This is a good world. This was a good life."

  Leona held one of Einav's hands. Aurora held the other. And Einav lay down and closed her eyes and did not rise again.

  "Goodbye," Leona whispered to her heroine. "From all of us. Goodbye."

  Most people on Earth only knew her as the eccentric old tea lady. But a handful knew her true identity. They attended her funeral. Leona and Tom. Bay and Rowan. They would keep her secret. They would keep her
legend in ancient history. But they were all there to say farewell. On her tombstone, they carved the words: Einav Ben-Ari, the Golden Lioness.

  They told the others that they had found her bones buried in a forgotten tomb. That they had moved them to the hilltop. Leona knew that for generations to come, this hill would be a holy place. The resting place of a lioness.

  I hope that iron can shine as brightly as gold, Leona thought. I hope that I can make you proud, Einav. And that I can make you proud, Dad. That I can make all of you proud.

  On a summer morning, Leona moved into the Terranon. The grand building was finally complete. Its dome rose tall, painted white, and marble columns formed its portico. Bay had even begun to paint frescoes across the rotunda's ceiling, depicting the tale of evolution, flowing from simple molecules to human life.

  Leona took her seat in the center of the grand hall. It was a chair carved from cedar, its armrests shaped like lions. Leona wore her uniform: tall black boots, brown trousers, a white buttoned shirt, a blue coat with brass buttons. Around her neck hung the jewel Einav had given her. On her head, she wore a new hat. A black, wide-brimmed cowboy hat. Her father's hat.

  Before Leona stood her council. Her ministers and generals. Her friends.

  She rose to her feet.

  "Let's get started. We have a world to rebuild."

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Bay's jaw dropped.

  "That is your wedding dress?"

  Rowan nodded. "Sure is. What's wrong with it?"

  Bay blinked. "It's … blue and red. And … ribbony." He tilted his head. "And why are you wearing a blond wig?"

  Rowan grinned. "It's Sailor Moon cosplay! I made it myself!"

  "A sailor what now?"

  "Old twenty-first century anime show," Rowan said. "Trust me, you'll love it. I'll make you watch it later." She twirled around. "I sewed the costume especially for our wedding. I don't want to marry you in some normal pretty dress. That's not me. I'm a geek! And proud of it. This cosplay is me."