"She's beautiful," Ben-Ari whispered, gazing through the window of her transport.
The shuttle pilot, a young Taiwanese man in a blue HOPE uniform, nodded and smiled. "She certainly is, ma'am."
Ben-Ari wore the uniform too, the fabric form-fitting yet sturdy, navy blue and trimmed with white. Her insignia shone on her shoulders: three blue circles on each shoulder, denoting her the captain of the ship. HOPE had a different rank hierarchy than the military. Back in the HDF, she had once borne the title of captain too—a junior officer. Here, a member of HOPE, the same word meant a whole lot more. In HOPE, a captain was comparable to an HDF colonel.
Like my father, she thought.
The shuttle flew closer, and Ben-Ari watched the sunlight gleam on the starship, watched her polished hull reflect the Pacific ocean below. The shuttle floated by letters engraved on the hull, each letter the size of a man, spelling The Lodestar.
At the airlock, a jet bridge stretched and connected with the shuttle. Ben-Ari rose to her feet, ready to step on board.
But she hesitated.
What if I can't do this? I'm only twenty-nine. I've never commanded a ship larger than the Saint Brendan and the Marilyn. How can I command five hundred scientists and explorers, many of them older and wiser than me? I'm a soldier. Just a soldier.
She inhaled deeply.
General Petty believes in me. I found the Ghost Fleet beyond the Cat's Eye Nebula. I twice liberated Earth from alien invaders. I can do this. She released a shaky breath. I can do this.
She walked across the jet bridge. And she stepped into her new home.
A lobby awaited her, the floor carpeted, the walls gleaming. Her officers stood here, all in fresh uniforms. They nodded to her, shook her hand, smiled. Engineers. Pilots. Navigators. Scientists. The people she would lead into the darkness—but also the people she would rely on, she would learn from. The people who would guide her among the stars.
I'll miss you, Kemi, she thought. I'll miss you, Marco, Addy, Lailani. I'll miss you all so much. Suddenly she could not stop her eyes from dampening.
"Captain!" said one of her officers, concern in his eyes. "Are you all right, ma'am?"
She nodded and wiped her eyes. "She's a beautiful ship. She's so beautiful."
The officer smiled. "May I show you to the bridge, Captain?"
She nodded. "Please do."
He led her through the ship, down gleaming hallways, past labs and lounges and observatories, and everyone she passed greeted her with a nod and smile. There were no salutes here. There were no guns. There was no grimness or fear. There was curiosity. There was nobility. There was optimism. There was hope.
Ben-Ari stepped onto the bridge, a circular room like a planetarium, showing the stars all around her, even beneath her feet. Several officers worked here at control panels, and they rose to their feet when she entered.
A captain's seat waited in the center of the room. Ben-Ari hesitated for a moment, as if she needed permission to sit. Then she raised her chin, walked across the transparent floor above a field of stars, and took her seat.
It was comfortable. Somebody even brought her a cup of tea. She gazed out at the stars.
"Where to, Captain?" asked her helmsman.
Ben-Ari took a deep breath. She pointed forward. "Straight ahead, Lieutenant."
He cocked his head, a line appearing on his brow. "Captain? Where are we going?"
She smiled softly, gazing out at those stars. "I don't know." She looked at her helmsman. "But it will be amazing."
A smile broke through his frown. "Aye aye, Captain. Straight ahead."
The Lodestar's engines thrummed to life. They sailed out into the darkness, leaving Earth behind, heading toward the unknown.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
From her jagged throne, she gazed.
From her pyramid of gold and rust, she saw.
In her city of shadows and starlight, she waited.
She.
Mistress of time. Of glory. Of worship and sacrifice and woven mortal screams.
Her clawed hands creaked, and her eyes narrowed, waiting. Ever waiting. A million years of patience, of festering fury, of rotting vengeance. A brewing storm.
She.
She who lurked. She who hungered. She who felt such hatred. She who had died a thousand times. She who had given birth to a thousand oozing, screeching, feasting things. She who had run upon dark plains, who had burrowed in tunnels, who had dissected, who had pulled the organs and strands from sticky animals underground, who had learned, who had gazed into the past and toward the endless darkness ahead.
She whom they worshiped.
She who had gone to searing deserts where her slaves had rutted in the sand, apelike and squealing and kneeling before her, raising obelisks for her splendor. She who had suffered epochs of exile. She whom they had carved, a hundred times their height, upon great sandstone and iron.
She. Of glimmering claws. Of white eyes, all-seeing. Of a decaying throne. Of a hunger still fresh. Of a lust that burned with eternal flame.
She.
Goddess.
A thousand mothers.
She.
Nefitis.
They moved through the dark city toward her. They walked along the boulevard of shattered bones between the towers of her eternity. Under the stars, they advanced. Her warriors, ankh pendants around their necks. Her angels of retribution. And they carried one of them.
Nefitis had no nose like the apes, but her thin nostrils flared. She inhaled deeply. She could smell it. Man-flesh.
The starchildren climbed the black stairs toward her throne, carrying the prisoner. They stepped onto the polished dais and knelt before her. Beautiful warriors. Graceful hunters. Slick. Naked. Gray skin glistening in the starlight. Mouths—thin lines, lipless. Nostrils—shut against the stench of the man. Eyes—oval, black, gleaming, peering deep. Children. Her children. Her creations. Her grace. Her immortality.
"Mistress," they hissed, kneeling before her. "Mother."
Nefitis leaned forward in her throne. "You have brought me one, children."
The prisoner trembled. A human. A man. A mere ape. Trembling. So afraid. He gazed up at her throne, and his face paled. Liquid flowed down his leg. Liquid flowed down his cheeks.
"I . . ." The ape's voice shook. "I am Private Justin Doyle. According to the Galactic Convention, I will reveal my name, rank, and serial number, but I cannot—"
Nefitis rose from her throne, and the human swallowed. Naked. Hairy. Primitive. He trembled like a newborn starchild over its first meal of flesh.
She descended. She moved toward him, robes fluttering, hems burnt. The jagged spikes of her crown, nailed into her brow, dripped her holy blood. Her breasts, bare and painted with ancient runes, dripped her milk. Her ribs pressed against her papery skin. Her eyes shone like stars. Her claws gleamed like polished steel. She reached out those claws. She caressed his cheek.
"Kneel," she whispered to this child of man.
He knelt. He shook. "Please," he whispered. "Please. Mercy."
Nefitis placed her claws on his head. So small. Such a small mind.
"Worship," she hissed.
He bowed lower. His face touched the obsidian floor. "Please don't hurt me. I'm just a private. I—"
Her children grabbed him. They pulled him onto a stone altar, its obsidian surface stained with old blood. Snakes emerged from burrows in the stone, wrapped around the man's wrists and ankles, and pinned him down. He screamed. Oh, how he screamed! Such a sweet sound! He lay, strapped onto the altar, basking in her holiness.
Nefitis placed a claw on his belly. She pierced him, hooked a strand of intestine, and pulled it out. She coiled it lazily around her finger.
"Mother!" the man cried. "Mother . . . Mama . . . I'm sorry. I want to go home. Please, please! I know nothing. I—"
"You know her," Nefitis hissed, coiling, pulling out more intestine, wrapping it around her wrist. The pulsing bracelet glimmered and
dripped. "You know Ben-Ari."
The human wept. "No. No! I—" He screamed as she plunged a second claw into his belly. "Yes! I know of her. I know her name. I never met her. Please. Mercy . . ."
Nefitis worked slowly, slicing, carving him open in the shape of an ankh, her holy symbol of immortality. Exposed to the air, his organs glistened. Hot. Sweetly scented. Her nostrils flared.
"Tell me of Ben-Ari." She licked her lips.
"Please," the human whispered. "Somebody, please. Wipe my memory. Like General Petty did. Please. Please. I want to forget. To forget . . ." He screwed his eyes shut. "Just a dream, just a dream—"
He screamed as Nefitis ripped off his eyelids.
He screamed as she worked, pulling out organ by organ, arranging them on the altar around him. She kept him alive. Yes, she knew this art. She kept his heart beating, even as it glistened on the cold black stone. She kept his blood flowing. She kept him awake, feeling everything, screaming, begging, seeing all. Stomach. Spleen. Kidneys. Sweet pancreas. All the parts of him, arranged on the altar around his torso, connected with gleaming strands, pulsing.
She rearranged the organs. She frowned, moving heart and offal, lungs and liver, her claws mixing the blood, scrutinizing.
And in the organs, she saw.
She saw time.
She saw past and future. Dreams. Visions. Prophecies.
Some goddesses gazed upon the stars for signs. Others peered into old bones and ancient books, while some studied the flights of birds. Not she. Not Nefitis. Not the mother of misery. Not she with unending lust. She gazed into life.
And in this life, broken down into its components, she saw.
"I want to forget," the human whispered, weeping. "Please. I want to forget. I want to forget. I—"
When she cut out his tongue, he could speak no more. But how he screamed!
She shoved the organs back into his body, and she stitched him shut with a metal thread. She carried him toward a towering boulder by her throne, and she nailed his limbs into the stone. She let the vultures descend, let them feed upon him, pecking, savoring the morsels. With her ancient power, she kept his flesh alive. Kept him screaming until nothing remained. Nothing but that metal thread, coiled on the floor. Her sweet pets flew off, bellies full, dripping blood like red rain.
Nefitis returned to her throne.
She gazed upon her city, and she gazed upon time.
She gazed down at her children.
"Mistress." They knelt. "What is your prophecy?"
Nefitis raised her claws. She licked the blood, savoring, reflecting.
"In the organs, I saw," she hissed. "I saw her. I saw them. I saw their world. The time is near, my children. The enemy is weak. Soon our mighty hosts will march. Soon Earth will be ours, and all will worship me." Her fury flared, white, searing, intoxicating. "Soon Ben-Ari will scream."
"Earth!" her children cried, hands raised, and fell to their knees. "The promised land!"
"It is ours, my children," Nefitis said. "Our birthright. Our destiny. I will lead you there."
She gazed upon her visions, etched in blood and shattered souls.
She gazed upon a distant world.
She gazed upon those she would kill, those she would taste.
Upon her throne, in her city of shadows and glory, she smiled.
The story continues in Earth Reborn (Earthrise, Book 7).
Click here to read the next book in the series:
DanielArenson.com/EarthReborn
AFTERWORD
Thank you for reading Earth Valor. I hope you enjoyed the novel.
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Daniel
NOVELS BY DANIEL ARENSON
EARTHRISE
Earth Alone
Earth Lost
Earth Rising
Earth Fire
Earth Shadows
Earth Valor
Earth Reborn
Earth Honor
Earth Eternal
THE MOTH SAGA
Moth
Empires of Moth
Secrets of Moth
Daughter of Moth
Shadows of Moth
Legacy of Moth
REQUIEM
Dawn of Dragons Requiem's Song
Requiem's Hope
Requiem's Prayer
The Complete Trilogy
Song of Dragons Blood of Requiem
Tears of Requiem
Light of Requiem
The Complete Trilogy
Dragonlore A Dawn of Dragonfire
A Day of Dragon Blood
A Night of Dragon Wings
The Complete Trilogy
The Dragon War A Legacy of Light
A Birthright of Blood
A Memory of Fire
The Complete Trilogy
Requiem for Dragons Dragons Lost
Dragons Reborn
Dragons Rising
The Complete Trilogy
Flame of Requiem Forged in Dragonfire
Crown of Dragonfire
Pillars of Dragonfire
The Complete Trilogy
ALIEN HUNTERS
Alien Hunters
Alien Sky
Alien Shadows
OTHER WORLDS
Eye of the Wizard
Wand of the Witch
Firefly Island
The Gods of Dream
Flaming Dove
KEEP IN TOUCH
www.DanielArenson.com
[email protected]
Facebook.com/DanielArenson
Twitter.com/DanielArenson
Earth Valor (Earthrise Book 6) Page 27