"Until the darkness took you." Tears filled Petty's eyes. "Until in the mines of Corpus, you fell. Defending humanity."
He looked away. It was too painful.
Lieutenant Ben-Ari had come to him that day. She had brought him his daughter's tags. She had spoken of Captain Colleen Petty's courage. He still carried the identification tags in his pocket, his last memory of his daughter. And now Ben-Ari was in prison, locked up for daring to speak the truth about the marauders.
Nobody believed her. Nobody but James Petty.
"There is still evil in the darkness," he whispered. "How can I lose this ship? How can I lose the first, the greatest defender of humanity?"
He returned to the porthole. Not a fancy, flat viewscreen like the modern ships had, displaying a video feed full of augmentation features. Here was a simple porthole like those in an old submarine. Petty gazed out upon Earth. The planet was like a blue marble from here. Fragile. Beautiful. So alone in the vastness of space. For so long, James Petty had fought to defend her. For forty-eight years, he had served in the HDF, rising from ensign to brigadier-general. And now they would toss him aside like another bit of scrap metal.
He was not ready to retire. Not even after the heart attack two years ago that had left him bedridden for weeks. Not after hearing Ben-Ari's warning.
"Sir!" On his lapel, his communicator beeped to life. "Sir, only a few minutes to go, sir." Osiris's voice. "Will you still make it to the ceremony, sir?"
Petty grunted. "I'll be there." He turned off the communicator.
He looked at the porthole, and now his eyes refocused, and he gazed at his reflection.
He wore his mess dress today, the military's version of a tuxedo. He felt ridiculous in the thing. What kind of military uniform had a bowtie, for chrissake? The damn thing displayed his medals. Medals for defeating the scum. For fighting in a hundred battles. They had even given him a goddamn medal for suffering a heart attack on duty, as if a scum claw had torn through his heart instead of a blood clot brought on by too much booze. Damn it, he needed some of that booze now. He couldn't wait for the ceremony to end to crack open the bottle he had been saving. Maybe they'd let him drink it on the Minotaur, one last drink in space. Maybe he'd just huddle in the apartment they'd toss him into on Earth, a place to ditch the relics. They might as well toss him directly into a shallow grave.
He grumbled, looking up from that uniform to the face reflected above it.
He looked old.
His hair had always been pitch black, but the heart attack had strewn it with white strands. His face was lined now. Dark sacks hung under his eyes.
But those eyes were still strong. Still fierce. Still chips of dark iron. Goddamn it, he was still a soldier. Maybe, like the Minotaur, he was a relic from an older time. But not yet useless. Earth still needed him. If the Alliance of Nations, if President Katson, if all the rest of them objected, well—let them! He would fight them. He had defeated the scum. He could—
He sighed.
No.
He was a soldier, yes. A good soldier. And he would obey his orders, like them or not.
"I've already lost my wife and daughter," he rasped. "It hurts to lose my ship too." The Minotaur was the only family he had left.
He left his quarters.
He walked through his ship one last time.
The corridors were narrow, the bulkheads thick, built to withstand bullets, fire, and alien claws. Fluorescent lights shone overhead, but the ship was still dim, labyrinthine. As Petty walked by, young soldiers stood at attention. He gave them brief nods. He'd miss these men and women. They were fine warriors. He had lost his only child, but these soldiers were like children to him. They were all his sons and daughters. And damn it, Petty was proud to have served with them. Even if the Alliance of Nations didn't share his pride.
He passed by the engineering stations. The torpedo bays. The armories. By hangars full of Firebird squadrons, jets that could fight in both air and space. By the bunks of marines who filled the ship, an entire brigade, ready to deploy to any world necessary. The Minotaur. Last of the great carriers. The first, and still the greatest, defender of Earth.
Goodbye, girl.
He reached the mess hall.
He paused for a moment outside the double doors.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply.
I'm sorry, Colleen. I wanted to keep fighting for you. I defeated the scum, ship after ship of the aliens. But this is one war I cannot win.
He reached into his pocket, and he felt his daughter's identification tags there. The cold metal felt familiar, comforting.
He opened his eyes and stepped into the mess hall.
Hundreds of people were already here, dressed in their finest. Most were the officers regularly serving aboard the Minotaur, everyone from young ensigns and lieutenants—marine platoon commanders, Firebird pilots, engineers, navigators—to the senior officers who served with Petty on the bridge. But others were dignitaries from Earth, both officers and civilians. The Minister of Defense had boycotted the ceremony—Petty was good friends with the man, knew he objected to the decommissioning, had tried to fight it and was preparing his resignation.
Maria Katson, president of the Alliance of Nations, had come aboard too. She was a steely woman in her sixties. Like Petty, she was all hardness but of a different sort. He was craggy iron. Katson was smooth steel. Her power suit was the bluish-gray of a blade, matching her eyes, while her hair was silvery-gold. She had fought hard for this, Petty knew—to decommission the fleet, to turn their ships into great projects on Earth. To use scrap metal for buildings. To spend the tax dollars—and maintaining a carrier did cost a fortune—to rebuild roads and bridges. A worthy cause, perhaps.
But there will be no Earth if we cannot defend it, he thought. There will be nobody to live in the buildings you raise or drive on the roads you pave. The marauders are out there. You've muzzled me, but I know the truth.
Across the crowd, the president gave Petty a thin smile and small nod. There was no kindness to it.
You tossed Captain Ben-Ari into a prison cell because she spoke of the enemy, Petty thought. But I will not be silent. Not anymore.
He walked through the mess hall. The hundreds stood at attention as he walked by. Petty approached a podium at the back, and he faced the crowd. The android had placed his speech on the lectern. Petty looked at the papers blankly. Platitudes. Slogans. He didn't need words somebody else had written.
He looked at the crowd. White-haired colonels. Civilian dignitaries. Cameramen, broadcasting the ceremony across the fleet and down to Earth. Young, eager lieutenants. Petty's eyes lingered on the rows of younger officers, the new generation of leaders. Brave men and women, barely into their twenties, who flew starfighters, who led platoons in battle, who had chosen military careers, had chosen to dedicate their lives to the Human Defense Force.
Lieutenants who'd now be going home.
Young officers who would never bloom into leaders.
Petty raised his head and gazed beyond them. At the portholes on the wall. At space outside. At the darkness that gathered, a noose tightening around humanity.
You feed them prisoners, Petty thought. You seek to appease them with morsels. But their hunger will not be satisfied. It took a young captain to speak the truth, so you silenced her. But I will not be silenced.
He pushed aside his prepared speech.
He stared at the crowd.
"Fifty-seven years ago," he said, "when I was but a child, the scum first attacked Earth. Billions died. Our cities burned. Our species hurtled toward extinction. But from those ashes, strength emerged. The Minotaur emerged. We forged her from the steel of toppled skyscrapers. We forged her with blood, sweat, and tears. She was the first of the mighty carriers and always the greatest among them. Her cannons could tear apart worlds. From her hangars, she could launch two hundred Firebirds to tear through the ranks of the enemy. She fought in every major battle of the Galactic War for f
ive decades, and at the end, she fought at Abaddon and pounded the enemy's homeworld. We were victorious! We ushered in an era of peace."
He paused, looking over the crowd. They all stared at him. President Katson gave him a small nod. The cameras were rolling, broadcasting his words across humanity.
Petty reached into his pocket and wrapped his fingers around his daughter's dog tags. He continued speaking, voice louder.
"But there can only be peace when warriors with shields defend it." He raised his chin. "Civilization can only thrive when we resist those who would topple it. There is still evil in the darkness. There are still those in space who would see our species crumble. You've all heard the rumors. Perhaps you've watched the leaked broadcasts. Perhaps you've heard the words of Captain Ben-Ari, who now languishes in prison for speaking them. The marauders, a predatory species, gather their fleet. They gaze upon Earth, and they hunger. If allowed passage here, they would destroy everything we have built, everything we have fought to defend."
In the mess hall, they mumbled, gasped. A cheer rose from the back. President Katson rose to her feet, eyes flaming. She began to walk toward him.
Petty raised his voice. "I will obey my orders! I will obey my president. I will step down. I will not overthrow my government. But I will not go silently!" He formed a fist and pounded the lectern. "We need our ships, damn it. We need our warriors. We need to defend our world. You can tear down the Minotaur, but hear me, Earth. Hear me, humanity! Raise a great cry! Demand that your leaders defend you! We cannot appease the marauders with human sacrifice. Every human we feed to their jaws only whets their appetite, and soon they will come to devour us all. We must fight!"
Across the hall, they all rose to their feet. Many cried out in approval, others in dismay. President Katson stared with cold fury. At her sides, civilian agents took a step forward.
"Hell yeah!" shouted Captain Julian Bryan, grandson of Admiral Evan Bryan and now a fighter pilot himself.
President Katson stepped onto the dais by Petty. She gave him a withering glare, then turned toward the crowd, a tight smile on her lips. She raised her hands.
"All right, all right, settle down, everyone! The general is right of course. We need to—and shall!—defend our world. While this ship is antiquated, I assure you that we have ways of staving off the enemy. Not with guns. Not with war. With trade! With a boisterous economy. With—"
"Free Ben-Ari!" shouted someone at the back; Petty could not see who.
"Free Ben-Ari!" rose another voice.
"Sit down, soldiers!" Katson said, then spun toward Petty. "Is this what you were planning, General? A military coup?"
"No coup, Madam President," he said. "Only words of truth. When I joined the military, I took a vow. To defend Earth. To defend her colonies. To fight with determination until my last breath. No one can ask me to break that vow. Put me in a prison cell like Ben-Ari if you must, but I will not be silenced while the enemy encircles us."
Katson's eyes blazed with fury. "It is not your job, soldier, to speak of your politics. I can have you tried for this. I can have you stripped of your uniform and honors. I—"
An alarm blared.
Red lights flashed.
A robotic voice spoke through the speakers. "Enemy incoming! Enemy incoming!"
Katson reeled toward Petty, baring her teeth. "Is this one of your games, Petty? Is this—"
He ignored the president. He lifted his communicator. "Bridge, report."
His security officer, Major Hennessy, answered through the communicator. "We're under attack, sir! Thousands of ravagers just leaped out of warped space, and—"
The Minotaur jolted madly.
People fell.
Fire blazed outside the portholes.
The walls dented.
Outside Petty saw them—thousands of them—emerging from warped spacetime.
Ravagers.
The warships of the marauders.
"Full battle alert!" Petty said. "All Firebird pilots, to your hangars! All pilots, launch into battle formations and engage the enemy! Go!"
They ran. Hundreds of pilots. They raced down the corridors, and the Minotaur jolted again. For a second, artificial gravity was lost, and they floated before the system came back online.
Petty ran as the corridors swayed, barking orders into his communicator.
"All gun stations—fire your shells! Hit the enemy with full artillery fire!"
The warship rocked as the cannons fired. Through portholes, Petty saw the shells stream through space and slam into enemy ships.
They were everywhere.
By God, they were everywhere.
Petty reached the bridge, a semicircular room covered with screens, affording a full view of space.
For an instant—just an instant—Petty paused.
His chest constricted.
His old, wounded heart twisted.
He could not breathe.
He stared out into the darkness, and the terror gripped him.
By God.
He had never seen an assault of this magnitude. Not even during the Scum War. The marauder ships filled space, as numerous as the stars.
And they were heading toward Earth.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Kemi stood on the bridge of the Saint Brendan, watching the swarm flow toward Earth. Tears filled her eyes.
"It's here," she whispered. "The marauder invasion. Earth's fall."
Noodles stood beside her, gazing through the viewport. "Amazing! Look at how they move, hundreds of thousands of them, all synchronized! Similar to a school of fish, a swarm of bees, or a Dothraki horde. I bet I could write an algorithm to analyze the video, detect their flight patterns, then perhaps use the information to code faster data retrieval procedures, and—" He gulped and adjusted his glasses. "I mean, it's horrible. Horrible. Earth's destruction and all." He tilted his head. "Still, fascinating."
"Fascinating?" Rage flowed through Kemi, and her tears fell. "My parents are down there. Oh God, my parents are on Earth."
Kemi placed her hands on the viewport, gazing at the planet. The marauder ships—the ravagers—were streaming toward the blue planet, as numerous as the stars. The Saint Brendan had its stealth engines activated, and it reflected no light and hid all radiation. Kemi felt like a ghost watching the death of all those it loved, all those it had stayed behind to guard.
"For two years we hid here," she whispered. "For two years, we hid in the darkness, trapped in this invisible can, wishing, praying, dreaming to go home. Now that home will fall."
Hang in there, Mom and Dad, she thought, trembling. Be strong.
The past two years had been among the worst in Kemi's life. Two years since she had lost her hand, since the president's agents had arrested Ben-Ari. Two years since Kemi's mentor, commanding officer, and best friend had been sent to prison to await execution. Since then, Kemi had lived on the Saint Brendan, buying food and supplies from black market smugglers, buying fuel from outlaws, living on the fringes of the solar system. A refugee. Lost in darkness.
And tolerating Noodles.
"This is just like Space Galaxy XII," the young hacker said. "You know, only the best entry in the franchise? The one where the aliens finally attack Earth? No? Nothing?" He rolled his eyes. "We have it saved in the entertainment system, Kemi. If only you'd expand your education to the classics, you'd—"
"Noodles, this is the real world!" Kemi snapped. "Not now with your nonsense."
She should have blasted him out of the airlock a million times. Several times, she had come close. And yet Kemi had kept Noodles aboard the Saint Brendan, because she needed him. He knew how to fix the computer systems. He knew how to hack into Earth's radio signals to find the best smuggling ships. And . . . as much as Kemi loathed the boy, as much as she missed her friends, perhaps Noodles had alleviated the loneliness, the cabin fever of having been trapped here for so long, her only shore leave spent in asteroid markets, sleazy space stations, and rundown l
unar bars where she hid her face in a hood.
She had not stepped on Earth for two years. Now she doubted she ever would again.
They were still far from the planet; Earth was a blue marble from here. She hit controls, zooming in. She could see the ravagers more clearly on the viewport now, ships shaped like claws, streaming toward the planet. Only a handful of armed satellites protected the Earth these days, the remnants of the vast Iron Sphere system that had once held off the scum. Kemi watched as the satellites' cannons fired, as shells slammed into the ravagers, but the alien ships kept flying. It was like shooting pebbles at a charging army of armored knights.
Kemi zoomed in closer, and she gasped.
"They're rising to fight!" Fresh tears budded. "The Human Defense Force. Our fleet. Earth rises!"
Out from the atmosphere they soared: squadron after squadron of Firebirds. From behind the horizon charged several warships, cannons blazing. Only a few hundred spaceships flew here. It was a fraction of what they had flown against the scum. It was a drop by the sea of enemies. But the sight of fellow humans fighting raised hope in Kemi's breast.
She sat at the controls. She grabbed her joystick, and she fired up her engines.
"We're going to fight too."
At her side, Noodles cringed. "I don't know, Kems. We're not part of the HDF anymore, remember? I'm an escaped inmate, and you're a refugee. If they catch us, they'll sentence us to death, like they did to Ben-Ari. Why should we fight for them? Why—whoa!"
The Saint Brendan charged forward so fast Noodles almost fell.
"Everything that happened is now irrelevant," Kemi said. "Everything that has ever happened to humankind—our troubles, conflicts, hopes, all that we built, all that we destroyed, all that we dreamed—all is yesterday. Now there is only this. Now there is only our greatest hour."
I'm coming, Mom and Dad.
For the first time in two years, she switched off the stealth cloak, allowing her to prime the cannons.
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