A Memory of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 2)

by Daniel Arenson

  The Pharaoh sighed. "Perhaps I've been something of an ogre. I'll try to make peace with the girl. I suppose she isn't that bad after all."

  The monitor lit up again. Mairead smirked in the video feed, her feet on the dashboard—toenails freshly chewed.

  "You damn right I ain't that bad." She spat out a toenail, then lit a cigar. "Nice to hear you admit you're an ogre. Cute that you think I'd breed with you."

  Ramses leaped to his feet, cheeks flushing. "What the—? I thought I turned you off!"

  She flipped him another bird. "You bet you turn me off, dumbass."

  Ramses seemed ready to explode. With effort, he calmed himself. "Firebug, I hereby extend my hand in a peace offering." He reached his hand toward the monitor. "You can pretend to shake it."

  She reached her own hand toward the monitor. They mock-shook through the video.

  "Nice fingernails, mate," she said. "Filed to perfection like a true lady."

  She laughed, stuck her tongue out at him, and shut off the video feed. Ramses fumed.

  Leona sighed. "I suppose that's the best I could hope for."

  "I need more coffee," Ramses said. "Join me in the kitchen, Commodore Ben-Ari?"

  She gave him an uneasy look. "Somebody should man the bridge."

  "Commodore, we've been flying for months through the emptiness. I believe the auto-pilot can handle ten minutes on her own. She'll alert us if any danger approaches." He waggled his eyebrows. "I make authentic Egyptian coffee. Best in the universe."

  Leona rolled her eyes. "It's not authentic Egyptian coffee if it's from a synthetic powder."

  "Next best thing, at least."

  She hesitated and glanced at her controls. According to the ship, there was nothing interesting for light-years around, and she could use a caffeine boost.

  "Five minutes," she said. "Not a second more."

  They entered the Nazareth's galley. The warship's Firebird pilots were already here, eating rations at the table. All were lieutenants, none older than thirty. Leona was a commodore, commander of the expedition, and Ramses was a captain, an officer senior enough to command a warship. The young starfighter pilots rose to salute, but Leona waved them down.

  "At ease, boys," she said.

  The Heirs of Earth was a band of rebels and freedom fighters, lacking the strict discipline of a true military. After nearly half a year in space, the last semblances of protocol were fraying. Often it was hard for Leona to see her soldiers as mere ranks, pawns in a war. They were friends. They were, perhaps, the last humans in the darkness.

  Ramses opened a cabinet and pulled out a decorative wooden box, a masterwork engraved with old animals of Earth. He placed the box on the table, closed his eyes, and whispered a prayer. Reverently, like a man opening a holy ark, he opened the box, revealing the artifacts within. The objects inside were silver and adorned with sapphires. There was a tray, a pot, and small mugs barely larger than eggcups.

  "This belonged to my father," Ramses said, "and to his father before him, and to many generations of the al Masri family. It comes from ancient Earth."

  "Bullshit," Leona said. "From Earth?"

  Ramses nodded. "This is Earth silver." He lifted the pot. It tapered in the center, flared out at the top, and had a long, curved spout like a beak. "This is called a dallah, a traditional pot used for thousands of years." He sighed. "I wish I had coffee beans. True beans grown in Earth soil, aromatic and bitter. For now . . ." He pulled a plastic bag from his coat pocket. "We have powder from the ship's organic printer."

  He prepared the coffee in a slow, meticulous way like a ritual, and soon it was steaming in the pot. He was about to fill the mugs, then paused.

  "Wait," Ramses said. He hit his comm. "Mairead? Get your freckled ass over here."

  They waited while Mairead donned a spacesuit, flew over, entered the Nazareth, and finally joined them in the kitchen. The young captain removed her helmet and shoved a hand through her hair. She frowned.

  "Did I just execute a spacewalk for . . . coffee?"

  "The best damn coffee in the universe," Ramses said.

  "It better be." Mairead slammed a wooden box onto the table. "Because I brought the best damn cigars in the universe, bitches."

  Ramses filled their mugs, and Mairead distributed cigars.

  "A toast, Commodore?" Ramses said to Leona.

  Leona raised her small silver mug. She looked across the group. Her two captains. Her lieutenants. Her friends. She smiled.

  "For Earth."

  Mairead raised her mug in salute. "For killing Ra damn aliens."

  Ramses raised his mug high. "For the glory of the pyramids, may they never fall."

  A young lieutenant raised his mug. "For my daughter and wife, both on the front line."

  Another pilot raised a mug. "For someday drinking beer instead of coffee."

  Cheers rose. More toasts were given.

  "For someday drinking pina coladas instead of coffee. With parasols!"

  They laughed.

  "For someday smoking cigars on a beach."

  "For someday seeing the beaches of Earth."

  "For all our brave warriors fighting the Hierarchy."

  "For the refugees who survived the gulocks."

  "For those who fell."

  "For the millions who died."

  Now the laughter was gone, and they were solemn, still holding their mugs, not yet drinking. They lowered their eyes.

  Leona rose to her feet. She held her mug before her.

  "For Earth," she repeated, voice softer now, and drank.

  Around the table, they drank.

  Mairead swallowed and grimaced. "Tastes like piss. But it kicks like a mule. I like it."

  Leona took a sip. It was bitter and hot and wonderful. Around the table, the officers lit cigars, and smoke filled the kitchen. They began to swap tales, to laugh, to refill their mugs. But Leona was silent. She thought of the terrors she had seen in the gulock. She thought of her husband, dying on their wedding day. She thought of all those waiting for them, depending on them.

  She began to speak softly. The others fell silent, laughter dying, and listened.

  "In the darkness, it's hard to see light." Leona held her mug with both hands. "Millions of us died. I don't know how many humans are still alive. Maybe millions still hide or fight across the cosmos. Maybe we're the last. I don't know what we'll find when we arrive at Earth. I don't know if we'll find a verdant planet, ready to recolonize, the same home we lost, or whether we'll find a wasteland awash with radiation and disease. But I know that I'll never forget the gulock, the horrors I saw there. I know I'll never forget the sacrifice of those who fought with us, who gave their lives for our cause. And I know that we—we few in the galley, we three hundred on this expedition, and all humans who still live—will never stop fighting, never stop dreaming of Earth. I know that Earth is our home. We're close now. I know that soon we'll see our planet rise."

  Mairead rose to her feet. She glanced out the porthole, to where the Rosetta flew; the corvette was now flying on autopilot. Mairead looked back at the group and raised her chin. For once, the young captain was not cursing, bragging, or chomping a cigar. There were tears in her eyes. Mairead began to sing, her voice uncharacteristically soft.

  Someday we will see her

  The pale blue marble

  Rising from the night beyond the moon

  Cloaked in white, her forests green

  Calling us home

  Calling us—

  Outside the porthole, the Rosetta exploded.

  Fire blazed.

  Debris hammered the Nazareth, rattling the frigate. The coffeepot clattered to the floor, spilling its steaming contents.

  Everyone in the galley turned toward the porthole. They gazed upon an inferno.

  There were fifty people aboard the Rosetta, Leona thought.

  She ran.

  She burst onto the Nazareth's bridge and saw two starships looming ahead. Leona leaped into her sea
t, grabbed the controls, yanked the ship out of autopilot, and opened fire.

  Her shells slammed into one enemy starship, knocking it back. A second vessel rose before her. Both enemy ships dwarfed the Nazareth.

  My God, Leona thought, gazing at them.

  These were no strikers.

  She had never seen such starships. They were tubular, covered with patches of green and black armor like scales. Red portholes blazed at their prows like eyes, and cannons thrust out like fangs. The ships looked like serpents, each large enough to constrict the Nazareth. As they moved through space, the ships undulated like true snakes.

  "Mucking hell," Mairead whispered.

  "What are they?" Ramses said, staring with a mixture of hatred and disgust.

  Leona switched on her communicator. "Alien vessels! We come in peace! Lower your weapons, and—"

  The two scaly starships turned toward her. Their cannons heated up.

  "Incoming!" Leona shouted, diverting all power to the shields.

  Searing laser beams flew from the enemy starships.

  Leona tugged the yoke, veering sideways. The Nazareth lurched into the cloud of debris left over from the Rosetta. They managed to dodge one of the laser beams. The other grazed the Nazareth, searing their port-side shields.

  The frigate hurtled backward. If Leona hadn't diverted full power to shields, they would have cracked open like an egg. She shoved on the throttle, steadied their flight, and opened fire.

  Her missiles flew toward the enemy, leaving trails of light across space.

  The serpentine warships fired their lasers, taking out three missiles. A fourth slammed into one of the ships, knocking it back.

  "Firebirds, fly!" Leona shouted. "Take them out!"

  The hangar on the Nazareth opened.

  Five Firebirds emerged—shrieking, furious starfighters, firing their missiles.

  Leona sneered, sending forth a fury of shells, concentrating all fire on one of the two enemy ships.

  Another laser hit the Nazareth, carving into a hull and breaching a deck.

  Leona gritted her teeth as her ship jolted. She kept firing, pounding the enemy ship with shell after shell. The Firebirds were swarming, raining death onto the same vessel.

  The serpentine ship exploded.

  Fire and debris spurted, hitting the remaining starships. The Firebirds flew high, fleeing the shock wave.

  One enemy ship now remained.

  Now we're even.

  They faced each other in the darkness—a human warship, clunky and battered, and an enemy vessel several times their length.

  "Firebirds, cease fire," Leona said, and the starfighters flew back and arranged themselves around her.

  She stared at the enemy ship.

  It faced them, still, not making a move. Its red portholes seemed to be staring.

  Leona hailed the ship again.

  "Alien vessel," she said. "I am Commodore Leona Ben-Ari of the Heirs of Earth. You have attacked us on a peaceful expedition. Identify yourself or we will be forced to destroy you."

  For a moment—silence.

  Then the enemy ship accepted the call.

  A video appeared on Leona's screen, showing the enemy ship's bridge and crew.

  Mairead, standing at her side, cringed. "Ugly sons of bitches."

  Leona rose to her feet, frowning. She stared at the video on her viewport.

  "Who are you?" she said.

  The aliens stared at her. They looked like Burmese pythons, their scales dark green, their eyes yellow and baleful. But unlike pythons, they had thin arms tipped with long, clawed fingers. In addition to their scales, the serpents wore black armor bristly with spikes, the plates embedded with rubies. Their bridge looked like a medieval dungeon—shadowy, rocky, and filled with chains. Slaves of several alien species cowered in cages, bodies whipped.

  One of the serpentine aliens slithered closer. He was longer and thicker than the others, and he wore a black helmet topped with crimson spikes. He stared at Leona, eyes narrowed, and a forked tongue flicked out from his jaws. The serpent almost seemed to be smirking.

  "Are you the captain of this vessel?" Leona said. "I am Leona Ben-Ari, commander of the Inheritor Starship Nazareth. We are on a peaceful mission. You have attacked us without provocation. Identify yourself and—"

  The alien captain spoke. For a few seconds, all Leona heard were hisses, clicks, and grumbles. Then her computer translated the serpentine language into Common Human.

  "We are basilisks." The alien captain stared at her, hunger and amusement in his eyes. "We are hunters. We are masters. We are the rulers of this sector, and you are invaders."

  Basilisks.

  Yes, Leona had heard of these beings. Their true name, in their own language, was a series of hisses and clicks. The translator had chosen a name from old Earth mythology, originally used for a monstrous snake in folklore.

  Humanity had never encountered these serpents. Two thousand years ago, back when humanity still lived on Earth, a different alien race had ruled this sector of space. The Hydrian squids had dominated the Milky Way's Orion Arm in those days. The Hydrians had destroyed many worlds—including Earth.

  But the Hydrian Empire, for all its might, had not lasted forever. Long ago, the squids had died off, leaving a power vacuum. The basilisks, it seemed, had risen to fill that void.

  We humans have never met these snakes, but they're our enemies, Leona thought. They surround our homeworld.

  Leona glanced at Ramses. He gave her a slight nod and took a step toward a control panel. Leona looked back at the basilisk captain.

  "According to the United Intergalactic Treaties," Leona said, "this sector is neutral Concord space. We are a Concord vessel. If you do not move aside, we—"

  "This is no longer Concord space," hissed the basilisk. "We basilisks care not for the weakness and frailty of the Concord. We have joined the Hierarchy! We fight alongside the mighty scorpions! Identify your species, enemy vessel, so that we may know how to brag when we drink blood from your skulls."

  Leona struggled not to roll her eyes. She heard Mairead scoff.

  "We are humans!" Leona said to the basilisk. "And if you think that your threats will intimidate us, you—"

  "Ah, humansss," the basilisk hissed. "Yes, we know your soft, succulent kind. Delicious prey animals, though too easy to hunt. No challenge." He hissed rapidly, tongue flicking, perhaps the basilisk way of laughing. "You once came from the world you know as Earth. A disgusting wasteland in the backwater of our empire. Yet still our territory. Turn back, humans! Turn back and flee like the prey animals that you are. Tell your fellow vermin weaklings that you may never enter this sector. Earth will never be yours."

  He's afraid, Leona realized. He's not sure he can defeat us. He's trying to scare us off. That's why he hasn't attacked yet.

  She cleared her throat. "We humans come from Earth. That is our homeworld. We will not turn back, basilisk. Give me your name, rank, and serial number, so that I may report you to Concord authorities. Then stand down."

  The basilisk sneered. His mouth opened wide, revealing fangs that dripped venom. His eyes burned, the pupils mere slits.

  "Earth is ours, vermin. Die now. Die like the cowards that—"

  Leona fired her cannons.

  While the creature was talking, Ramses had gradually lowered the Nazareth's shields and life support, diverting full power to the cannons.

  The shells now blasted out with twice as much fury as before, pounding into the enemy starship.

  Instantly, Ramses pulled the shields back up, and Leona yanked on the yoke and shoved the throttle, flying over the enemy ship.

  As the Nazareth soared above the basilisk vessels, the Firebirds unleashed a hailstorm of missiles, bombarding the enemy.

  The basilisk ship rocked and tilted. Its scaly armored plates cracked. Its cannons blasted lasers, hitting one Firebird, slicing the starfighter in two. Another beam hit the Nazareth, rocking the frigate. Leona kept flyin
g. She shot forward, spun, and charged back toward the basilisk warship, all guns blazing.

  The Firebirds attacked from one side, the Nazareth from the other, pounding the ship with shell after shell. The basilisks tried to flee, only for Firebirds to block their escape, to surround their starship in a ring of fire. Leona leaned forward, snarling, concentrating all her fire toward a crack in the enemy's shields.

  The crack widened.

  She unleashed a missile.

  The missile entered the crack at hypersonic speed, and the basilisk ship exploded.

  The shockwave knocked back the human vessels. A sphere of debris expanded through space, pattering them.

  Leona took a deep breath, struggling to calm her pounding heart.

  Mairead slapped her on the shoulder. "Good work, Commodore. Those bastards are ugly sons of bitches, but they ain't too tough."

  But Leona felt a tightness in her chest.

  "They destroyed the Rosetta," she said. "They destroyed one of our Firebirds. They killed over fifty of our people." She looked at Mairead and Ramses, and her voice was soft, barely louder than a whisper. "We left on this expedition with four warships. We're down to just the Nazareth. We're damaged. Badly. And thousands of these basilisk ships might be waiting between us and Earth."

  For once, Mairead and Ramses were silent. Leona saw the worry in their eyes—even in Mairead's.

  "Well, we're not turning back now, are we, Commodore?" Mairead said, and suddenly she sounded very young. It was easy to forget that Mairead, despite her rank and bluster, was only twenty-four.

  Leona shook her head. "No. We won't turn back. But we can't fight more battles either. Not with a single warship—and a battered one at that, her shields cracked and her ammo low. We'll have to rely on stealth, our wits, and luck." She placed her hands on her captains' shoulders. "We were entrusted with a sacred mission. We vowed to become the first humans in two thousand years to set foot on Earth. We will continue toward our home. We will see Earth rise again."

  "Or we'll die trying," Mairead said.

  As they flew on, diving into the darkness, those words echoed in Leona's ears.

  Or die trying.

  They glided through the darkness, heading closer to Earth, toward death or legend.