Earth Shadows (Earthrise Book 5)

by Daniel Arenson

  Go, a voice spoke inside. Go. This is the place you seek. A safe space. You will worship there.

  She trudged onward, leaning on Steve, toward the water tower. And its dome was a planetarium. And the stars spread above it, and they were beautiful.

  "You taught me they are beautiful, Marco," she whispered. "You taught me there is hope. You taught me there is water among fire. That there is light in darkness. That there is . . ."

  She felt woozy and fell. Her face hit the ground. Steve lifted her.

  "Under the tower," she whispered. "Behind the stones."

  He collapsed by the tower, and she saw that his leg was bleeding. She coughed. The fire was inside her chest, an alien of flame. She crawled across the burning desert, a skeleton, reaching out bony fingers.

  She cleared away the dirt, and there it was. The trapdoor beneath the tower. She tried to open it. She banged against the lock. She cried out, but her voice was too hoarse. She fumbled with her gun, fired at the lock, and the kickback knocked her onto her side.

  "Who the fuck is out there?" His voice came from below, echoing.

  "The freak," she whispered, her tears burnt dry. "The weirdo. The girl who needs a little extra help."

  She lay, panting, bleeding, burnt. The forest blazed to one side of the tracks. The water tower loomed above. And everywhere the stars spun, pulling her into their ocean with strands of light.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  After so long, it should not hurt like this.

  As Kemi walked through the forest of Nandaka, following the little alien toward his village, she kept glancing at Marco, then hurriedly looking away.

  Why does pain so old still linger?

  It had been seven years since that day, since Kemi had made that devastating mistake. Like the other monumental days in her life—the day her brother had died, her first day at Julius Military Academy, the day the Scum War had ended—the day of her mistake forever lived in her memory. A great fork in the road of her life. She had been just a child, only eighteen. She had barely understood the world. A child, that was all. Scared. Excited. Preparing for war.

  And so I left you, Marco, she thought. You were enlisted. I was to launch a military career. So I shattered our hearts.

  During the days that followed, Kemi had found herself weeping, cursing herself, and tugging her hair. She could have made it work! A long-distance relationship was not impossible, even at war, even across star systems. Their love could have given them strength during the years of war, and someday—even if, yes, years had passed—they could be together again. United, their love stronger after so long apart.

  But I chose this. Kemi touched the golden bars on her shoulder straps. The insignia of an officer. Of a pilot in the Human Defense Force. I chose to follow in my brother's footsteps. To fly for Earth. And now Earth is fallen, and Marco walks so close to me, and still it hurts when I see him.

  She looked at him walking there in this forest of alien trees, their flowers glowing. The sunlight dappled Marco's helmet, his olive uniform, and his somber face. He had always been so somber, even as a youth. He was twenty-five now, and he was no longer so soft, no longer meek. There was a new hardness to his body, his face, his eyes. But he was still so somber. He was still the boy she had loved long ago, perhaps still loved.

  Walking in silence with him in the forest, it was easy to remember. Their walks through Mount Pleasant Cemetery, among the last green places in Toronto. The time they had baked a cake together, it collapsed in the oven, and they rolled it into cookies while laughing. Acting out plays together, creating silly costumes from old clothes. Secret nights of kissing, cuddling, finally making love on their last night together.

  And I threw it away, Kemi thought. And by the time I came back to him, he had found her. Lailani.

  She turned to look at Lailani. The young sergeant was walking beside Marco, telling him a story. He laughed, and jealousy—stupid, ridiculous jealousy—flared in Kemi.

  Lailani was everything Kemi was not. Kemi often felt too tall, too curvy, too clumsy, while Lailani was petite and graceful. Kemi's hair had always been an untamed mess of curls that puffed up into a mane at the slightest provocation, while Lailani's hair was smooth as silk.

  It was years ago that I came back to you, Marco, Kemi thought, only to find that Lailani had taken my place. I thought that I could forgive. I thought that after so long, the wound would no longer hurt. But it still hurts me, Marco. Even now, it still hurts. Even now, I wonder what might have been.

  And Kemi knew—she knew!—that Marco still cared for her. Still loved her. She saw it in his eyes, fleeting, when he looked at her. She felt it when he touched her arm sometimes during a conversation. She knew that he and Lailani had parted. That Lailani had loved another, had lost her to the enemy.

  Perhaps I can still win him back, Kemi thought. I can still . . .

  She shook her head wildly, curls swaying. No. Foolishness! She was no longer that lovestruck teenage girl. That old Kemi had died on Abaddon. She was an adult now, an officer in the Human Defense Force, an accomplished pilot. She would not forget that. She had chosen a military career. She had chosen duty. And she would still do that duty, even here, so far from home.

  I will focus only on my mission, she vowed. To find another starship. To seek the Ghost Fleet. To save Earth. To save my parents. That's what matters now. My family. My species. Not these silly games of a lovesick girl.

  She took wide strides, passing by Marco and Lailani, leaving them behind. Ahead of them walked the woman Kemi had been following for years now. The woman who had given her new meaning. The woman she would follow into Hell itself. Captain Ben-Ari: her commanding officer, her mentor, her heroine.

  "Ma'am," Kemi said, pulling out her tablet, "my scanners still detect no more ravagers nearby. According to everything I'm picking up, the marauders have a base twenty kilometers east from here. The ravagers send out distinct signals, and I can detect at least ten."

  Ben-Ari turned toward her and nodded. "Excellent, Lieutenant. Keewaji says we'll be at his village within moments. We'll seek shelter and sustenance there before planning an excursion into the nearby marauder base, where we must hijack one of those ships."

  There. This was good. This was comfort. Captain Ben-Ari was weary. Her shoulders slumped, her green eyes were sunken, and blood clung to the war paint on her face. But she was still a leader through and through, still speaking in confidence of their duty. This was how Kemi yearned to be. Not the lovesick girl but a capable, intelligent officer like her captain. Always a leader.

  In a crumbling world, you are my pillar of strength, Kemi thought. When everyone else hurts me, when all my life falls apart, I still follow you, Captain. Always. And that comforts me.

  "First order of business is shelter and sustenance, I agree, ma'am," Kemi said. "Once we're rested and fed, we'll plan our assault. I'm thinking a pincer move, two soldiers from each side, with the natives creating a distraction, but we'll need more intel first. I'd like a detailed map of the base if we can find one."

  Ben-Ari nodded. "We can attach sensors to the local wildlife, perhaps. The birds seem large enough. If we can send them flying over the marauder base, we can obtain that map. But my father taught me something, Lieutenant. He visited many worlds in his military career. For years, he traveled the galaxy, exploring new planets, forming alliances with alien races. And he drilled this lesson into me: The locals always know best. We will obtain good intel at the nearby village, even if we must trade some of our technology." She smiled thinly. "The natives do seem to love Goblin Bowling."

  Kemi laughed—too loudly, perhaps. Because this was good. This was business again. This was sanity. This was planning, not panic.

  An officer, she thought. That is what I chose to become. That is what I will still be, even with the cosmos torn apart.

  White fur flashed above, and Keewaji swung down from the canopy, holding a branch with his tail. The young Nandaki opened one of his four hands, revealing t
he mouth on the palm, and spoke.

  "We are almost at the village, humans! We had to move when the Night Hunters first attacked, but we have built a new home. I will journey through the night, though I am weary. We will be there by dawn."

  "I can carry you through the night," Kemi said.

  Keewaji hopped onto the forest floor. He stood before her, as tall as her shoulders. The pale young alien looked up with his huge purple eyes, the size and shape of lemons.

  "You are most generous, Lieutenant Abasi!" he said. "Not only are you humans great warriors with great cargo, you can travel for many days and nights without rest."

  "What do you mean by cargo?" she asked.

  His eyes shone. "Cargo is what we live for! We Nandaki greatly worship those with cargo." He pulled out Lailani's tablet from his pocket. "Cargo. It taught me much about your species. Your language, your culture, your glory."

  "You mean technology?" Kemi said.

  Keewaji nodded. He spoke from one of his hands. "Humans and marauders have much cargo. Great sticks that boom. Great vessels that fly. We Nandakis desire cargo too." He hugged the tablet to his chest. "Cargo is what makes one wise and strong." The sun vanished, and his four mouths—on all four hands—yawned. "Forgive me. I have spoken all day. I am weary."

  As his eyelids drooped, Kemi lifted the alien and carried him in her arms. He snored through his hands. And now, as she walked through darkness, new memories rose in Kemi.

  She had been late. And she was never late. At the time, an eighteen-year-old girl caught in a war, she had blamed it on stress. Just the nervousness messing with her body, delaying her period. Three weeks later, she had finally bled, had been regular since. During the war with the scum, who had time to worry of such things? Though over the years, Kemi's suspicion had grown into certainty.

  I was pregnant with Marco's child. Her eyes stung. I know it. I feel it. And I lost that child on my first week at Julius Military Academy.

  She looked down at Keewaji, this alien child in her arms, and Kemi wondered about what might have been. About what she had lost. About what the war had cost them.

  "Well, will you look at that?" Ben-Ari said softly, and her eyes shone. "My father would have loved this."

  After five minutes of darkness, the sun rose. Kemi looked up and saw it ahead.

  The village.

  Keewaji woke in her arms, yawned, and hopped off. He puffed out his chest with pride. "Home."

  Trees soared ahead, the largest they had seen so far, trees that could put redwoods to shame. Kemi had expected to see a village on the forest floor, perhaps a collection of huts. Instead she saw a village in the air. Wooden bridges, rope ladders, and tree houses filled the branches. Water flowed through clay pipes, and gardens grew from countless hanging pots. Staircases coiled around trunks, and strings stretched between homes, ending with wooden cups—a primitive telephone network.

  Hundreds of Nandakis scurried across the village, swinging from ropes, racing up and down rope ladders, and peering from windows. Mothers carried baskets on their backs, their babies peering from within. Elders hobbled across bridges on coiling canes, long white hair flowing from their heads. Young warriors perched on branches and rooftops, bedecked with feathers and beads, holding spears and bows.

  "This is only a refugee village," Keewaji said. "Forgive its crudeness, please. Our true dwellings were far more marvelous. But the Night Hunters destroyed them. They burned the trees to drive us out. They raised great nets to capture us as we fled." He lowered his head. "Our great cities of wonder now lie as ashes, and so many of my kind are now farmed for their flesh." He raised his head again, and his eyes shone with tears. "But now the great humans have arrived from the Night Sea. And you are wise and bring us much cargo. You are like the Elder on the Mountain, the wise one whom we worship. You will help us defeat the Night Hunters."

  "The elder?" Kemi asked, walking closer to the village. "Who is he?"

  "One who is very wise!" Keewaji said, pointing at a distant mountain. "He lives upon the peak, and we worship him. But only the wisest of the Nandaki may speak with him. I am unworthy." He looked at Kemi. "But now you are here, the humans from the Night Sea, and you walk among us. It is a great honor. Come, come! You must be weary after walking for so many days and nights without food or rest."

  Several Nandaki warriors ran toward the humans and saluted. Kemi's eyes widened. The little aliens—the tallest stood just under five feet—wore military insignia. They had fashioned leather shoulder straps, stitched them onto their fur tunics, and sewn golden stars onto the fabric. Each Nandaki seemed to have the rank of colonel.

  I should be the one saluting them, Kemi thought with a smile.

  "Cargo!" one of the aliens said, reaching for Kemi's pistol.

  "Cargo, cargo!" whispered the others, gazing at the rifles, sensors, and tablets the humans carried.

  Amazingly, the little aliens carried their own assault rifles—but the weapons were carved from wood. Mere mimicry.

  "Forgive them," Keewaji said, turning toward his human companions. "They have never seen your kind up close before. Come now! I will take you to our elders."

  They entered the village. A staircase coiled around a massive tree trunk, and Keewaji led them up the stairs. As the Dragons climbed, their stomachs growled. Since Marco had forgotten their food on the Saint Brendan, they had been living off scraps—a few granola bars and battle rations found in their backpacks, not nearly enough. Kemi's mouth was already watering at the thought of finding food in this village. Following their guide, they passed by tree houses, hanging gardens, bridges, rope ladders, and hundreds of Nandaki who scurried about, gaping at the newcomers.

  "What the hell is that?" Lailani whispered, pointing. "Is that . . ." She frowned. "Kemi, you're a pilot. Isn't that a Firebird?"

  Kemi stared in the direction Lailani pointed. Her eyes widened. A starfighter of wood, straw, and rope rested on several branches, shaped as a Firebird. It was nearly the right size, complete with a wooden pilot's seat.

  "I believe it is," Kemi said.

  "Cargo," said Keewaji, nodding. "We built it ourselves."

  As they kept climbing, passing by more boughs, they saw more mimicry. Along two wide branches, a platoon of Nandakis was marching back and forth, holding wooden assault rifles carved into the shapes of T57s. They saluted their commander, a stern Nandaki who—like the ones below—had the insignia of a colonel. Higher up, a tree house contained several large communicators and radio dishes, except they too were made of wood and straw.

  "Keewaji, what's going on here?" Kemi asked. "These look like our things."

  He nodded. "They are great cargo! We have seen your kind from afar, wise beings who can travel the Night Sea, who wage great war, who have great wealth. We too desire to be as powerful someday, to have as much cargo. We have built what we could, but . . ." He lowered his head. "Still we fail."

  Kemi couldn't help but smile. She wasn't surprised to hear the wooden Firebird couldn't fly or that the straw radios couldn't communicate with the stars.

  "I see a great future for your kind, Keewaji," she said. "Someday you—"

  The sun set again, and across the village, the Nandaki all scurried into their homes. The human companions waited on the staircase, and Keewaji slept in Kemi's arms. Several moments later, the sun rose again, and they continued their ascent.

  Keewaji took them to a wooden plateau built around three tree trunks; it was easily the size of a basketball court. The foliage formed a thick canopy and walls, shielding this stage from prying eyes. Three Nandaki elders waited here, leaning on canes, wearing long blue robes woven with silver stars and moons. While the younger Nandaki were bald and smooth, these elders were wrinkled, and long white hair and beards flowed down to their feet.

  Keewaji approached the elders, bowed, and began speaking with all four mouths at once. He spoke at such incredible speed that Kemi couldn't even make out individual words. The elders raised their hands, and each spoke fro
m all four mouths. They spoke through the day, then slept through the five minutes of darkness, then rose again.

  Keewaji turned toward the humans. "I've told them everything, all about your great battles and your quest. They will shelter you for as many days as you like, and we will have a feast in your honor that will last a week."

  Of course, a week on this planet is just a bit over an hour, Kemi thought, but that was fine. She had never been one for long parties.

  "Now bring us food!" Lailani said, and her stomach growled in agreement.

  Young Nandaki females brought forth the feast. On flat leaves, they served a variety of pastes. In wooden bowls they served roasted grubs and insects. In baskets, they carried alien fruits and vegetables in all shapes and colors. Kemi had been hoping to feast upon the plump birds she had seen flying above. They weren't on the menu, but Kemi was far too hungry to complain.

  Ignoring her manners, she tucked in, scarfing down the meal like a ravenous wolf.

  For long moments, the four humans could not speak, could not breathe, only shovel more food into their mouths.

  "This is the best damn food I ever ate," Marco said, speaking with a mouth full of fruit.

  Lailani tossed roasted grubs into her mouth. "You'd say that about anything right now."

  "Even roasted grubs?" he asked.

  Lailani stuck her tongue out at him, revealing several grubs. "Especially roasted grubs."

  Once her hunger abated, Kemi was able to appreciate the flavors. There were purple fruit shaped as stars, filled with soft beads; elongated fruit with glowing red seeds; tangy rich fruit that tasted like seasoned bread; edible flowers that dripped nectar; and many other delicacies. The pastes were just as delicious, some spicy, others sweet, some a mixture of both flavors. In clay jugs, the Nandaki served sparkling water flavored with flower petals and slices of fruit, healing and cold.

  As they ate and drank, Nandaki girls giggled, raced forward, and placed glowing flowers in Kemi's hair, and they placed strings of jewels around her neck.