"It's Earth, Kemi," he said. "We saved it. We did it. I'll miss you. I'll miss you so much, and I love you. Goodbye, princess of the sky. Goodbye."
He walked downhill between the flowers and trees, and he joined his friends.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Under the searing summer sun, they toiled. Sweat soaked them. Calluses grew on their hands.
"This is harder than the goddamn war!" Lailani wiped her brow, then continued digging.
Even Steve, who could make gorillas look scrawny, moaned about his exhaustion.
For long hours and days, they labored.
They buried the dead.
They pulled survivors from the rubble.
They hunted down the last marauders, clearing Toronto of lingering enemies, as across the globe soldiers drove out the aliens from their final strongholds.
They fought the seeds of fascist, communist, and theocratic uprisings that sprang across the city, groups that sought to seize control of Earth in the chaos. They exiled their leaders into the wilderness.
They prayed, those with faith. They meditated. They reflected.
Mostly, they built. They built shelters and field hospitals. They treated the thousands of wounded. They hunted in the fields. They hauled buckets of water from the lake into the camps.
Every day, sifting through the rubble of Toronto, Marco was sore, blisters on his feet, his skin peeling in the sun.
"I miss war," Addy said miserably at one point, hauling buckets of water.
She was joking, of course. Marco knew that. He saw the pain that flickered across her eyes, the old memories.
Someday, maybe, I'll ask Addy about what happened to her in this war, Marco thought. But not yet. Maybe not for a long time. Not until she's ready.
So he only smiled, patted her shoulder, joked with her. Sometimes, during their days of toil, he saw that Addy would just stand. Just stand and stare at the distance, face blank, and she seemed to be gazing ten thousand kilometers away. Ghosts seemed to dance in her eyes. When that happened, Marco would wait beside her, and when she returned to this world, he would plant a kiss on her cheek, muss her hair, tell a joke. Sometimes he just embraced her. Just held her as she trembled. Just stood with her, comforting her, until she could work again.
Someday maybe you'll tell me, he thought during one of those times, holding her. When you're ready, Addy. I'll be with you always.
That night Addy slept in his arms, and whenever the nightmares seized her, Marco stroked her hair until she calmed.
"I love you, Addy," he whispered in the darkness. "Always. We'll never be apart again."
She mumbled in her sleep, nestled closer to him, and slept until dawn.
They toiled through the days.
They remembered during the nights.
Brick by brick, grave by grave, they scoured the city. They reclaimed their home.
But as the days went by, with every new street cleared, Marco's realization grew.
This was no longer his home.
He had been born in Toronto. He had lived here until age eighteen. But he was twenty-six now. His adult life had been spent in searing deserts, in a storm on an alien world, in the darkness of space. The city he had known—it was gone.
And he knew that he would not live here again.
This will always be the place where I fell in love with Kemi, he thought. Where I met Addy. Where I lived with my parents. Let it stay that place in my memory. He wiped sweat from his brow and paused from his labor. I've emerged from the fire, and I'm still alive, though so many are gone. Let me find a new place. A new life.
"Marco, would you come north with me today?" Lailani said to him one morning. "I want to explore the forests for mushrooms and game."
They took an old army Jeep which coughed and trundled along the highway. They headed into the forests north of the city, parked, and hiked along old trails. They spoke of good memories. They laughed about the time Caveman had emerged for morning inspection in firetruck pajamas, how Sergeant Singh's eyes had bulged out. They remembered how one Christmas, back at the library, Addy had lost her watch while stuffing a turkey. They smiled to remember those days in Greece long ago, pretending to be wounded, the closest thing to a vacation they had ever had. They spoke in hushed voices about the tree of memories in the soulship, about the good times they had seen. They spoke of Kemi.
They reached a clearing where they found mushrooms, and they knelt to collect them. When they both reached for the same mushroom, their fingers touched. They stared at each other, and on a whim, Marco leaned forward and kissed Lailani's cheek.
She looked away.
"Marco," she said softly, "I wanted to tell you something. That's why I asked you to come here."
"I know," he whispered.
Lailani looked up at him, eyes damp. "I'm going home, Marco."
His own eyes dampened. He took her hands. "Lailani, I—"
"Marco, don't."
But he plowed on. "Lailani, I love you. I've loved you since the first time I saw you, since that day eight years ago when you joined my platoon. Our war is over now. We can be together. We . . . we can get married. I forgive you for Sofia. For Ben-Ari. We can start a new life now. I love you."
Lailani stared into the distance, tears in her eyes.
"I come and I go." Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. "It's how I've always been. I come to you, and I love you, and I leave, and I return, and I go again. Because I've always been broken. I've always been a wanderer. I wandered the slums of Manila as a child, orphaned, hungry, afraid. I wandered fields of war. And I wandered between the beds of lovers. I broke hearts and I had my heart broken. I saw terrors and I saw beauty too. I fell in love. I fell in love with many." She looked back at Marco and touched his cheek. "I always knew that I would hurt you. I told you that when we first met. But I come and I go. And that is who I am, and who I must always be. You're an oak, Marco, and your roots have always sought purchase. But I'm like dandelion seeds, visiting tree by tree, and I can't give you what you want. I can't give you roots."
Marco looked at her. She was beautiful. She was so beautiful.
"Where will you go?" he whispered.
"To where I began." Lailani smiled and wiped her tears. "To where I was born. To where Sofia died. To continue my work. We have money now, Marco. I sold the crystals. I'll use my portion to open a school. A real school. Not just a wagon of books, but a school with brick walls, with desks, with a library. Then another school after that, and another, and as many as I can build. I once thought that I was meant to be a soldier. That I was meant to die in battle. But I was meant to live, Marco. I was meant to do this. I'm going home."
He wanted to ask Lailani if he could come with her. But he had asked her that before, long ago. And he knew the answer.
You come and you go, he thought. You are like dandelion seeds.
"It's a good plan," he said instead, forcing himself to smile, and he found that his smile felt very real, that it filled him with joy. Joy for her. For the purpose she had found.
Lailani smiled too, and her smile grew into a grin, and light filled her eyes. "You should go to Greece, Marco. Remember our time there? When the granny fed us stuffed cabbages? You should go back. Build your house there on the beach. Fill it with books. Fill it with friends. Fill it with laughter and light. I'll visit. A lot. And you'll visit me. Remember, it's a small world that we saved."
After all, it was.
The trip to Greece only took a few hours. After traveling to the Cat's Eye Nebula and back, it seemed barely a hop and skip. During the flight, Marco tried to read a book, but Addy kept singing, dancing in her seat, and poking Marco's ribs whenever she leaned over him to look out the window. Marco had to admit: he was somewhat mortified that she had invited Steve to join them. When Addy pulled her hulking boyfriend into the airplane bathroom with her, she was embarrassingly loud.
Ben-Ari sat behind them, headphones plugged in, enjoying her own book, even getting some sle
ep. When Marco tried to nap, Addy elbowed him again and insisted that he let her hold Kemi's seashell—just one more time.
Marco groaned and gave her the shell. But one treasure he kept hidden. He still had not opened the wooden box Eldest had given him.
When you're ready, when the grief is too great, open this box, she had said. Marco kept it closed.
The plane landed.
They traveled through a bustling Greek city.
"God, Addy, why am I carrying your backpack too?" Steve grumbled, buckling under the weight of two packs.
"Because you're a big, strong, manly man!" She puffed on a cigar, examining a folding map of the islands. "And I'm holding the map."
He groaned, shifting her backpack across his shoulders. "What did you pack in this thing, rocks?"
"Just a few bricks from home," Addy said. "I wanted to use bricks from the library as cornerstones for our new house."
Steve groaned louder. "I knew it. Rocks! She packed rocks!"
They made their way down to the beach. Ben-Ari. Marco. Addy and Steve. They found a place an hour outside the city. A place with water on one side, with trees on the other. A place of sunshine at day and clear stars at night. The place they had dreamed of for so long.
They put down their packs.
They put down their bricks.
And may we put down roots, Marco thought.
That night, their house still only blueprints, they built a campfire on the beach, and Addy roasted hot dogs, and they slept under the stars.
* * * * *
These were strange days for Einav Ben-Ari.
At first, she had insisted on building the house herself. She had made lists of suppliers in the nearby islands, bought wood and bricks, refined blueprints, collected tools. She had fought two wars. She had escaped from prison. She had flown across the galaxy and back with an ancient fleet. She could surely build a house. It took Marco to touch her shoulder one day, to comfort her after her electrical wiring had nearly burned down their island, and convince her to hire builders—and then get out of their way.
"You've earned a vacation, ma'am," he told her. "Spend the next few months relaxing on the beach. Catch up on reading. Keep working on your memoirs."
For the millionth time, she told him, "You can just call me Einav now. I'm your friend now, no longer your commanding officer."
He tried it. They all did for a few days. But they kept naturally slipping back to "ma'am" or "Captain" and once Addy even saluted her by mistake. Old habits, like memories, died hard.
She found idleness intolerable. For a few days, Ben-Ari lay on the beach and read, completing the memoirs of Winston Churchill. But soon she found herself antsy, unable to enjoy the peace. Marco could spend hours just gazing at the waves, contemplating, meditating, but Ben-Ari needed to do something. She tried to keep working on her own memoirs, which she had begun in prison, and in a mad three-week dash, working from dawn to midnight each day, she chronicled her part in the marauder war. And yet she found it difficult to write the end. The end? She was only twenty-nine. Was this truly the end? Now, not even thirty, she retired and would grow old on a beach?
"You earned it," Marco told her, but that did not solve her restlessness.
She began to explore the ruins on the island, to walk between the columns of ancient Greek temples, and once she even found a few coins dating back thousands of years. She wondered if the modern cities of the world—Toronto, Tokyo, Paris, Tel Aviv, New York, and others destroyed in the great alien wars—would someday become treasure troves for a future amateur archaeologist.
Often at night, the nightmares emerged. Ben-Ari rose in a cold sweat on the beach, struggling to breathe, haunted with memories of her prison cell, of the scum, of the marauders, of creatures in the darkness. Under the starlight, as the others slept, she would undress and walk naked into the water. She would let the salty waves of the Mediterranean soothe her, wash away her sweat, her memories. She would look up at the stars and try to see them as things of beauty, not the dens of monsters.
Often on these dark nights, when she felt so alone, she thought about Lailani. She remembered that forbidden day, making love to her in the Marilyn, and her cheeks flushed. She would push the memory aside, embarrassed by it . . . but not without savoring the sweetness of it.
Perhaps that's what I need, Ben-Ari thought. A lover. A man who can cook and tell jokes, who's tall and strong and can fight, but who's also smart enough to discuss literature and science and history. Yet the thought seemed laughable to her. She had always been married to her duty. To her career.
Now she had no duty. Now she had no career.
After two months, when their house was taking shape, Ben-Ari had to admit: I'm shell-shocked. I'm lonely. But mostly, I think that I'm bored.
The day before their house was finally ready, while they were already planning a moving-in ceremony, a Military Police jet landed on the beach.
Ben-Ari froze.
Her heart leaped.
Marco and Addy ran toward her. They had no guns, but Addy drew a knife.
"Fuckers!" Addy spat. "What do they want?"
Ben-Ari fought the urge to run. There was no use running from the MP. If they wanted to find her, they would find her. She stared at the vessel on the beach, heart pounding against her ribs.
"I'm still technically an escaped prisoner," she said softly. "And they found me."
"We're not letting you go back to prison," Marco said and clasped her hand.
"No way in hell," Addy said, grabbing her other hand. "We'll fight them as hard as we fought the aliens."
A hatch opened on the jet. Two soldiers emerged, wearing the red armbands of the Military Police, and stood at attention.
A third soldier stepped out of the jet, walking between the guards. He was a tall man in his sixties, his hair graying, his eyes dark and hard. He wore many service ribbons on his uniform, and a golden phoenix shone on each of his shoulders, denoting him a general.
Ben-Ari's eyes widened. She gasped.
"General Petty," she whispered.
She snapped to attention and saluted. Marco and Addy glanced at each other, then followed suit. They weren't sure if they were civilians or soldiers now, outlaws or heroes, but in the presence of a general—the hero who had piloted the Minotaur during the great last battle—they all felt awe.
Petty approached and stood before them on the sand. He returned their salute. He nodded at them, one by one. "Sergeant Linden. Sergeant Emery. Captain Ben-Ari."
For a moment, Ben-Ari wanted to hug him. She had hugged him back in Toronto. But that had been in the heady aftermath of a great battle, with both suffering from blood loss, both celebrating a victory. Here and now, with the dust settled, would he do his duty? Would he drag her back to prison?
"Sir!" Ben-Ari said. "It's an honor."
Petty inhaled deeply, a thin smile on his lips, and looked at the water. "A beautiful place to hide, isn't it?"
Ben-Ari cringed. "I'm sorry, sir. I'm not hiding. I know I broke the law. I know I escaped prison. I—"
"Einav," he said softly. "You saved the world." He looked at Marco and Addy. "You all did. I'm not here to arrest you. You are heroes." He raised his chin and saluted again. "I am here to honor you."
Addy's eyes widened. "Are you going to give us medals?"
Petty laughed. "Eventually, yes, you'll get your medals. Once you're wearing proper uniforms and I can pin them to your chests."
Addy and Marco looked down at their clothes. Addy was wearing a bikini bottom, Crocs, and a shirt with a cartoon sausage and the caption: Sorry for being a brat, I'm the wurst. Marco's shirt featured Johnny Cash flipping the bird. Their cheeks both turned red.
"What?" Addy said. "Medals would look great on these outfits!"
Petty sighed. "You'll be an officer now, Linden. You and Emery both. Along with your medals, I'm giving you battlefield commissions. You're both becoming lieutenants. You need to look the part."
Their ey
es widened.
"Poet and me, officers?" Addy said. "Damn. Poet, we'll have to start wearing pants and everything."
"I always wear pants!" Marco said.
Addy scoffed. "Not if there's a girl within five kilometers."
Petty sighed. He turned toward Ben-Ari. "Einav, walk with me."
She nodded. "Yes, sir."
Leaving the others behind, they walked along the beach. For a long time, the general was silent, seeming to simply enjoy the sea air. The jet, guards, and house were soon distant, and they walked between ancient Greek columns and shattered pottery.
Finally Ben-Ari could bear the silence no longer.
"Am I in trouble, sir?" she said. "I know that I'm a criminal."
Petty knelt to lift a piece of pottery. He hefted it in his palm. "Funny. It probably lay here for thousands of years, through the endless wars of men and two devastating wars between worlds. And the world spins on." He placed the shard back down, then looked at Ben-Ari. "I'm giving you a full pardon, and I'm promoting you to major. As of right now, you are Major Einav Ben-Ari."
She gasped. "Thank you, sir. It's an honor!" She meant it. Few achieved the rank of major before their thirtieth birthday. Hope sprang inside her. She was forgiven! She was promoted! She could return to do good, honest work, to help rebuild this world, to lead, to—
"And," Petty said, "right now, I'm giving you an honorable discharge from the Human Defense Force."
She blinked at him. "I . . . I'm not sure what to say."
She stared at the sea in stunned silence.
"I guess it's the best possible result," she finally said. "I can't return to the military, not after the secrets I leaked, not after all my crimes." She sighed. "But yes, thank you. An honorable discharge—with a higher rank for bragging rights—is a lot nicer than being led back to prison in chains." She looked around her. "Beach retirement it is for me. Maybe I can spend the next fifty years seeing how long I can grow my toenails."
Earth Valor (Earthrise Book 6) Page 25