Earth Shadows (Earthrise Book 5)

by Daniel Arenson

  She saw him in the rear view mirror, racing along the tracks on six legs. Blood covered him, and human flesh draped across the skulls on his back. His parasitic twin squealed, riddled with bullets but still alive.

  "Fucking Orcus," she muttered. "He's like a goddamn Energizer Bunny with claws."

  "You cannot hide from me, Addy!" Orcus cried, leaping along the tracks, gaining on them. "Your skull will be mine!"

  Addy grabbed a grenade. She hurled it out the window. It exploded behind them. Another grenade. Another. Orcus kept leaping over the explosions, racing forward, gaining on her, soon only meters away from the truck. Several other marauders emerged from the forest, joining Orcus, bounding forward.

  "Come on, come on, where are you?" Addy muttered, staring ahead, seeking the landmark.

  There!

  She saw it. The old railroad station.

  "Addy!" Orcus cried, laughing, and leaped through the air. His claws reached out, about to grab the truck.

  Addy hit the remote control mounted on the dashboard.

  As the truck roared through the station, the explosives—planted along the tracks and station yesterday—burst with deafening sound and heat and the fury of a supernova.

  Blinding light filled the truck. The shock wave slammed into them, nearly tossing them off the track. Stones, dirt, and chunks of marauders peppered the roof of the truck. Addy clung to the steering wheel, just barely managing to keep driving. Beside her, the lone motorcycle roared out of the fire, racing alongside.

  Addy released a shaky breath.

  Behind her, the railroad station was gone, and piles of concrete and stone covered the tracks.

  Shards of marauders—several legs, broken jaws, seared flesh—covered the forest.

  There was no sign of Orcus.

  Addy kept driving.

  Finally, no aliens were pursuing.

  They reached the water tower. They rolled the truck and motorcycle into the garage, slammed the door shut, and vanished underground.

  They limped, crawled, were carried into the infirmary.

  They lay on the cots, screaming, passing out. Dying.

  As the medics fished shrapnel out from Addy, she screwed her eyes shut, gritted her teeth, and felt tears burn down her cheeks.

  What are more scars? she thought. What is more pain? I'm already broken beyond repair. I'm already barely human. She bit down on a scream as a medic pulled out a chunk of claw. So let me become the monster.

  She opened her eyes, saw the wounded around her, saw Steve writhing in bed, his leg in a splint. Saw Jethro passed out, his skin sallow, a medic transfusing blood into him. Most of their squad—gone. All but one of their motorcycles—gone. A hundred humans saved, mostly women and children, more mouths to feed when they needed more warriors.

  The Human Resistance? An army to fight the marauders? They were living on borrowed time, all of them. How long until the marauders found this place, until the aliens burrowed underground and killed them all?

  And Addy knew—knew it in her bones—that Orcus had survived. That he was still out there. Waiting for her.

  "If you're alive, Marco, come back," Addy whispered. "Find that Ghost Fleet of yours and come back. I can't do this without you. I need you. I miss you."

  "This will help with the pain," said the medic, sticking her with a needle. Addy tried to rise, tried to reach Steve, but she fell back on the cot. Her eyes closed and dreamless slumber rolled across her, tugging her into blackness like marauder webs.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  "It's as if the set of Happy Days blasted off into space." Marco looked around him at the ESS Marilyn. "I keep waiting for the Fonz to show up."

  Outside the portholes, the stars streamed as the ship flew, heading across the Milky Way. Inside the lounge, history had come to life. Asmotic Institute, the builder of the Marilyn, was obviously big on nostalgia. The floor was a checkerboard of black and white tiles, and red barstools lined a gleaming counter. Milkshake glasses sparkled by ice cream dispensers. A jukebox stood by a vintage Coca-Cola vending machine. Framed photographs of Little Richard, Elizabeth Taylor, James Dean, and some historical entertainers Marco didn't recognize hung on the walls. The centerpiece was the bumper of a historical automobile that hung above the bar; its license plate read Route 66.

  "It's heaven." Kemi walked into the lounge, eyes damp, a smile trembling on her lips. "It's absolutely heaven."

  Marco's eyes widened. His jaw hung loose, and it was a moment before he could speak. "Where did you find that?"

  Kemi had removed her military uniform. She now wore a red poodle skirt, a fleecy white sweater, and a headband. If not for her metal hand, she could have stepped out from an Elvis movie. She grinned at Marco.

  "I found them in the storeroom! There's a whole closet of vintage clothes here." She brushed her hands across the skirt. "I don't think they're actually two hundred years old, but they're a good imitation." Her eyes shone. "There are some boy clothes too. Jeans and leather jackets. You should get dressed up with me! You can be a greasy."

  "You mean a greaser?" he said.

  Kemi nodded. "I think so." She tapped her chin. "Yes, better not be greasy."

  Marco couldn't take his eyes off her. It had been years since he had seen Kemi wear anything but her uniform. And there she was again—the girl he had fallen in love with a decade ago. His old Kemi. And she was beautiful. She was so damn beautiful that it hurt.

  Finally he found his tongue again. "I'm not sure Captain Ben-Ari would want us in civvies."

  Kemi skipped toward the jukebox, and old rockabilly music filled the lounge. "I think we need to dance again. A happy dance this time."

  Marco cringed. "I don't do happy dances."

  She grabbed his hands and hopped around. "Sure you do!"

  They stood in still silence for a moment as the music played. Kemi lowered her head, her smile fading. They held hands. Her one hand was warm and soft, the other cool and metallic. Dancing? Happiness? The innocence of music and ice cream and youth?

  Those things were taken from us, Marco thought. We lost them in the snow of Canada, in the mines of Corpus, in the searing desert of Abaddon.

  And he knew that even should this war end, even should they find peace and a home on the beach and music and friends around them, there would be no dancing. There would be no laughter of abandon. There would be no true joy.

  Those things will never more be ours, he thought, still holding Kemi's hands. Aside from a glimpse soon fading like a rainbow under quick rain.

  Carl Perkins's "Blue Suede Shoes" played through the lounge. Kemi glanced up at Marco, her head still lowered, and Marco knew that she understood—deeply, fully, in a way their words could never express. But her smile returned, hesitant, and she bit her lip.

  "Some milkshakes at least?" she said.

  He smiled. "Milkshakes would be nice."

  As they were stepping toward the barstools, a voice rose behind them.

  "I would like one too."

  They turned around, and Marco's jaw unhinged for the second time.

  For a moment, he didn't recognize her. But it was her. Captain Ben-Ari stepped into the lounge, and she too wore a poodle skirt and sweater.

  My God, she's human, Marco thought.

  His captain's dark blond hair flowed freely, no longer in its usual ponytail. She had even applied a touch of makeup. It was only a skirt, a sweater, a dab of eyeliner, but it seemed almost like a costume to Marco. He was so used to seeing his commander in her uniform, holding her weapons, an officer ready for war. He had never imagined she even had a civilian life.

  "I guess this means you're okay with civvies on the ship," Marco said.

  For the first time in years, maybe ever, Marco saw his captain grin. Not just a tight smile but an actual grin—a huge grin that showed her teeth, that lit up the room.

  "It's Sunday," she said. "Our day off. And I want that milkshake."

  Marco thought back to Nandaka. He had stood with
Kemi and Lailani outside the ship, trying not to eavesdrop. Yet they had all overheard Ben-Ari arguing with her father, shouting, weeping. The two had spoken in Hebrew, and Marco had not understood the words, but he understood enough from the tone. He understood the tears he later saw drying on Ben-Ari's cheeks.

  Yes, she's human, he thought. And she too needs to just be a girl sometimes.

  "Three milkshakes coming right up," Marco said.

  "Strawberry flavor for me!" Ben-Ari said.

  They sat on the barstools, sipping from straws as the music played. "C'mon Everybody" by Eddie Cochran filled the lounge.

  "Ow, brain freeze!" Kemi winced and touched her temples.

  "Slow down!" Ben-Ari laughed. "The ship is well stocked. We have enough to last until the Cat's Eye Nebula and back—which should take at least six months." She took a quick sip, and a sigh ran through her. "Damn. I missed ice cream. One of the things I missed most in prison, I think."

  Marco swallowed his sip. He looked at his captain. "Ma'am, I never told you, but I'm sorry for what happened. That you had to spend so long behind bars. I should have been with you."

  Ben-Ari raised an eyebrow. "In prison?"

  "Well, no." Marco shook his head. "But when you and Kemi were fighting for truth, trying to warn the world about the marauders, I should have been there. Fighting with you." The milkshake turned bitter. "I ran. I ran away from Earth, from my duty, from myself. I fought a war on Haven. A war that I lost. Meanwhile, the real war was somewhere else. The war you were fighting, ma'am."

  Ben-Ari smiled, reached across the counter, and patted his hand. "You're fighting it now. With us. Whatever you suffered on Haven, whatever horror I endured in prison—it's over now. We're free. We're strong. And we have a plan. And we will win."

  "We'll see Earth again," Kemi said softly. "Green hills and blue oceans. We'll find my parents."

  "And we'll find Addy," Marco said, voice choked. "And we'll chain her up so she can never get lost again."

  Ben-Ari laughed, eyes damp. "What was it that you wanted, Marco? A house on the beach?"

  He nodded. "A big house for all of us. You too, ma'am, if you'd like to join us. A house with many rooms. A house between sea and forest. You, me, Kemi, Lailani, Addy . . . all of us broken people. All of us survivors. All of us who understand without words." He wiped his eyes. "Because nobody else would ever understand, would they? What we saw. What we lived through."

  Kemi and Ben-Ari both lowered their heads.

  "Nobody else would," Ben-Ari whispered.

  For a long moment, they were all silent, staring at their glasses. The only sound came from Little Richard singing about Miss Molly. Then Kemi grinned.

  "And we'll have campfires on the beach, right?" she said. "And roast marshmallows?"

  "And hot dogs," Marco said. "Addy loves them."

  "And baked potatoes wrapped in tin foil," Ben-Ari said. "My father taught me how to build a campfire and bake potatoes."

  "And we better have a jukebox and milkshake-maker in that house!" Kemi shook her fist. "We better!"

  Marco laughed. "We'll park the Marilyn next door. If Captain Ben-Ari allows it, at least."

  She nodded. "I do. Though by then, when we retire, I'll just be Einav."

  "It would be strange to call you that, ma'am," Marco said. "But I would like that. For us to retire. To just be friends. To be a family."

  His captain's hand was still touching his. Kemi placed her hand atop of their hands.

  "A family," she whispered.

  They sat in silence, hands touching, and Marco loved them—deeply, fully, as much as he had ever loved anyone.

  And you'll be with us soon, Addy. You—

  "Ravagers!" Keewaji barged into the room, waving a tablet in one of his four hands, speaking through the three others. Warnings blared on the monitor. "Ravagers approaching!"

  They leaped off the barstools. They ran.

  They burst onto the Marilyn's bridge. Three white seats rose here before an array of gleaming panels and viewports. Lailani was sitting at the pilot's station, still wearing her military uniform.

  "Fuckers showed up out of nowhere!" she said, yanking the ship's joystick to the left.

  They tilted. Through the viewport, Marco saw them—several ravagers charging toward them, flying through warped space. The alien ships opened their claws, and fire gathered, and plasma roared, and—

  Lailani screamed and yanked back the joystick.

  The Marilyn banked hard. Plasma roared over them and under one wing. A blast hit their side, and they jolted. Keewaji cried out and grabbed a rail with his tail. Marco hit the wall hard.

  "Emery, man the missiles!" Ben-Ari shouted, leaping into a seat. "De la Rosa, move to the machine guns! Abasi, take over the helm from her. Defensive maneuvers!"

  They had all trained for this. They had spent hours just yesterday learning these controls. Yet Marco still shook, still felt close to passing out.

  Fire.

  Blood.

  Screaming faces.

  Gritting his teeth, he ignored the flashbacks. He leaped into the elevated gunner's station, a turret that rose above the rest of the bridge. He grabbed the controls and turned on the missile systems.

  The ravagers spun back toward them. They roared forward from all directions.

  "Fire!" Ben-Ari shouted.

  Kemi grabbed the controls from Lailani and yanked madly, and the ship barrel-rolled. More plasma hit them. Smoke filled the ship. Marco's control panel wouldn't come on. The display belched out sparks. He cursed, got a visual through a viewport, and released a missile.

  The missile flew from its bay, swerved in space, sought the heat in the center of the ravager, and shot into its plasma cannon.

  The ravager exploded.

  Metal claws flew through space, spinning toward them.

  "Kemi, incoming!" Marco shouted.

  "Damn it!" Kemi yanked the controls madly, spinning, rising higher. She dodged several careening claws. One slammed into the bottom of the ship, metal screeched, fire roared, and the stars slammed into points around them.

  "We lost our warp engine!" Lailani shouted. "Hold on!"

  Spacetime straightened around them. Immense pressure shoved against them. Keewaji wailed and fell. The ship spun madly. Marco couldn't help it. He vomited, losing his milkshake onto his shirt.

  Alarms blared and smoke filled the bridge.

  "Status report!" Ben-Ari barked.

  "We're back in regular spacetime," Lailani said. "Azoth drive is down. One wing is cracked. Our heat sensors are down. Everything else is functional, and—fuck, here they come!"

  Marco saw them. His scanners no longer worked, but he saw the ravagers just outside. They came streaming out of warped space toward them. Three remained.

  "Fire!" Ben-Ari shouted.

  Both Marco and Lailani hit buttons on their control panels. A hailstorm of bullets and two more missiles flew toward the enemy.

  Kemi soared as another ravager exploded, showering shards.

  "Damn this ship is fast!" the pilot cried.

  "Keep firing!" Ben-Ari said.

  Kemi rose higher, looped behind the ravagers, and Marco fired two more missiles. The missiles flew over the ravagers, spun around, then drove into the living ships' gaping maws of plasma.

  The alien vessels exploded, and more shards flew. Plasma sprayed upward, catching the Marilyn. The controls ripped out of Kemi's hands. They tumbled through space, spinning madly.

  One of the ravagers still flew, badly wounded but roaring more fire. The flames hit the Marilyn, and the bridge heated up, and a control panel shattered.

  Blindly, Marco fired the last two missiles.

  The cosmos seemed to explode.

  The Marilyn spun like a top.

  Smoke filled the bridge. Warnings beeped. Klaxons blared. Sparks flew across Marco.

  For a moment—nothing but smoke, the beep beep beep of an alarm, and coughing. Lailani pulled herself up from the floor. Ben-Ari cl
utched her bleeding temple.

  Marco stared through the viewports, seeking more enemies, waving aside smoke.

  Outside in space, he saw nothing but the husks of ships.

  "We beat them," Marco whispered. "The ravagers are dead. They—"

  Kemi screamed and pointed. "Marauders!"

  Several of the aliens had spilled out from a ravager. They tumbled through the vacuum of space, still alive, casting out webs, flying toward the Marilyn.

  Marco fired the ship's Gatling guns. Bullets tore through the aliens, ripping them apart. Only corpses slammed into the Marilyn's hull.

  The crew sat in silence, just breathing. Marco bled from a gash on his elbow, and sparks had seared his side. Ben-Ari held her hand pressed to the cut on her head. Keewaji was trembling in the corner, scratches and bruises covering his pale body.

  "All enemies are gone," Lailani finally said, checking the controls. She sighed. "So is our azoth engine."

  Marco stared at her, the horror seeping in. "How far out are we? Can we make it back to Nandaka using our regular nuclear engines?"

  Lailani met his gaze. "We're several light-years from the nearest star. Without our azoth engine, reaching the nearest world would take ten thousand years. Reaching the Cat's Eye Nebula, where we hope to find the Ghost Fleet . . . Well, we better have enough ice cream to last a million years for that."

  "So we fix the azoth drive," Marco said, struggling to hide the tremble in his voice. "Easy! We patch it up, and—"

  "Marco. Marco! You don't understand." Lailani took his hand in hers. "The azoth crystal in the heart of our warp engine shattered. We can't fix it." She turned toward the others, and she spoke in a whisper. "Guys, we're stuck here."

  They all sat in silence. Even the alarms died.

  I'm sorry, Addy, Marco thought. I'm sorry, Earth.

  He lowered his head. The ship floated on through space, ten thousand years away from salvation.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  He lay in shadows.

  He lay in shame.

  His twin twitched on his side, whimpering, snapping his jaws.

  The rocks crushed him, and the fury burned through Orcus like the bombs that had burned his body.