He did not like to think of that time on the rooftop, that time he had almost jumped, the way he did not like thinking about Corpus and Abaddon and the inferno at Fort Djemila. He had placed that conch aside, had not looked at it since, for it was a memento of the darkest hour of his life. Yet now, in this new shadow, Marco rose from his bunk, stepped toward his closet, and rummaged through his belongings.
He found it there, wrapped in an old shirt.
He left the bunk where his companions slept, entered the lounge, and stood by a porthole. The stars hung outside, frozen in place. Their azoth engine—dead. Their fuel and batteries—nearly gone. Their food—down to scraps. Trapped. Floating here in a coffin, so close to the end. And in his mind, it seemed to Marco that he stood again on that rooftop, that outside he didn't view space but the storms that forever whipped Haven.
A gift from the cosmic ocean. May it shine in your deepest darkness.
He unwrapped the bundle of cloth, and he pulled out the conch. It was the size of his fist, silvery and gleaming, lavender where it caught the light. Smooth and cool to the touch.
"But how can this help?" Marco said, speaking to the emptiness outside. "It's beautiful. But now I, my friends, and my species all face death. Is this conch just a trifle? A beautiful object to inspire me, to comfort me?"
He turned it over and over in his hands, feeling its smoothness, admiring its grace. Yes, it soothed him. It was a piece of beauty, a memory of life. It would not save him. But perhaps he would not die surrounded by ugliness, not like he had almost died on Haven, had almost died on Corpus.
I will die in beauty, he thought. With music and light and friends. With a gift from the cosmic ocean.
He placed the conch against his ear, and he heard a deep, soothing echo, white noise, a pulse. The conch, though empty, seemed almost alive, perhaps harboring the ghost of life that had once filled it, still singing its song. A thing of beauty, yes, but of music too. Marco placed the conch against his lips, and he blew softly into it. A pale, quivering note emerged, like the song of an ocarina.
He returned to the crew quarters.
He stood for a moment in the shadows, looking at his sleeping friends. In such a small ship, they all shared a room. Captain Ben-Ari lay on her side, her hair in a ponytail, the woman who had taken in a scared librarian, who had turned Marco into a soldier, into a man, who had taught him honor, dedication, duty, leading by example. The woman he admired more than anyone in the cosmos, a true leader he had followed across the galaxy.
Beside her, Kemi lay on her own bunk, her curly black hair spreading around her, peaceful and beautiful in slumber. Yet then her mouth twisted, and a frown touched her brow, and Marco knew she was remembering her old pain. She was his first love, the girl he had seen become a woman, an officer, a pilot, intelligent and brave and forever kind.
Marco turned to look at Lailani next, and his heart twisted in sudden pain. Looking at her sleep, it was so easy to remember. Holding her in his arms, making love to her at Fort Djemila, wanting to marry her . . . then losing her, only to have her return to him, to still see the love in her eyes when she looked at him. Lailani—broken and strong, ephemeral and constant, angel and demon, the breaker and healer of his heart.
I love you all, Marco thought. You are the dearest people to me. I can't stand the thought of losing you all here. And I can think of no better people to die with. I love you all so much.
Light glowed, and dapples of silver and lavender danced against his sleeping companions. A rain of luminescence fell upon them, and Marco wondered if this was the light of death, shining from that great wormhole to life beyond.
Wait a minute.
He frowned. He blinked. That light was real. It was shining through the portholes.
He stepped between the bunks, gazed out a porthole, and lost his breath.
"Fucking hell," he whispered. Not his most eloquent quote perhaps, but right now, amazement washed over him. His eyes watered. "It's a whale."
It was a dream. It had to be a dream. Perhaps a hallucination. A massive whale, large enough to swallow the Marilyn whole, glided outside through space. Its body was fluid, deep indigo tinged with purple, and its eyes shone gold. A finned tail flowed behind the alien, barbels flowed around its mouth like whiskers on a catfish, and pulsing organs glowed on its temples like eardrums the size of bathtubs. The whale swam toward the starship, curious, gazing at it. Gazing at Marco.
"Hey, turn off the lights!" Lailani said, tossing a pillow at Marco. "Trying to sleep here."
Marco blinked. He ran toward Lailani and grabbed her hands. "Come see this! Can you see it?" He hopped toward Kemi. "Kemi, Kemi, wake up! Come see!"
She groaned, blinking. "What?"
"Captain, Captain!" He raced toward Ben-Ari. "Do you see it too? Keewaji, you too, wake up! Do you see it?"
They all rose from their beds and approached the portholes.
Their jaws all unhinged.
"What is it?" Kemi whispered, the light in her eyes. "A whale? A whale in space?"
Lailani nodded, smiling tremulously, tears on her cheeks. "It's a starwhale."
Kemi laughed, rubbed her eyes, and stared outside again, then at Lailani. "Let me guess. You studied them in the Oort Cloud.
Tears still flowed down Lailani's cheeks, and her smile widened. Outside, the whale was circling the ship, gazing at them curiously, its tendrils and tail flowing like streamers. Its eyes glowed, filling the ship with light.
"Not this time," Lailani said. "My people tell stories of them. In the Philippines we would look up at the sky as children, and we would speak of the starwhales. On bad nights, after a scum attack or a flood, we would imagine that the starwhales would visit Earth someday, would carry us poor, hungry children to their world. It's said that they can travel at great speed between the stars." She pointed. "See those glowing things on its cheeks? Maybe those organs let them bend spacetime like azoth engines."
The starwhale passed by the portholes, gazing inside. Marco thought he saw wisdom in that eye.
"It's beautiful," Ben-Ari said, and a sad smile touched her lips. "I too have heard tales of starwhales. My people told similar stories. I always thought they were legends. Like the Golem of Prague, just legends we told, imagining that a great beast out there could save us."
"We told the same stories in our land," Keewaji said, gazing with damp eyes outside the porthole. "The starwhales fly in many of our old tales. Some of our ancient heroes were able to summon them using mystical conches, then ride them to distant worlds."
Marco lost his breath. His fingers trembling, he raised his conch, his gift from the mysterious girl on a distant world.
"Conches like this?" he whispered.
Keewaji gasped. He touched the conch, then pulled back his fingers. He looked up at Marco with awe. "Where did you find this?"
Marco smiled softly. "A friend gave it to me. Long ago."
"You are truly a mighty hero!" Keewaji knelt before him. "Like the blessed whale-riders of old!"
The whale flew even closer, bringing its snout up to the ship, sniffing. The whale circled around, and its eye gazed through another porthole—right at the crew, it seemed. Marco placed his palm against the porthole. The whale stretched out one of its barbels. The ship rocked as the tendril hit the opposite side of the porthole.
"We're holding hands." Marco laughed and his eyes watered. "I wish Addy could see this."
A sound pulsed through the ship. A deep voice like a whale's song.
"It's speaking to us!" Kemi whispered.
"Then let us speak back." Marco blew into the conch again. The soft song filled the ship, and the whale's eyes shone. It sang in return, a whale song, answering the conch. The music of the cosmos. A song of stars.
"What did you just tell him?" Lailani said, looking at the conch.
"I'm not sure," Marco said. "I think I just said hello." He looked at the others. "Your old tales speak of heroes riding the starwhale. Maybe today we will be hero
es." He laughed. "Kemi, you're a good pilot. Ever tried landing on a whale?"
Kemi, who was gazing with wonder through the porthole, turned toward him. She frowned. "You can't be serious. You can't truly suggest we ride a whale through space."
Marco shrugged. "It worked in the old stories, right? Even I heard the tales. I had a book as a kid. Selene and the Starwhale. A girl rode one through the galaxy."
"Children's stories!" Kemi said. "Old legends!"
Marco pointed out the porthole. "I see a real one just out there."
Kemi looked out the porthole again. The whale reached out to her with a whisker. Kemi looked back at the crew. She laughed. Her eyes watered, and she laughed and laughed.
"This is ridiculous," she said. "And this is beautiful. And this is wonderful." She was half sobbing, half laughing now. "All right. It's time to be heroes." Kemi raced out of the bunk, heading toward the bridge. "Marco, keep playing that conch! Let's ride the whale!"
Marco looked out the porthole again. He placed his hand against it, and the whisker reached out to make contact.
"Can you take us there, friend?" Marco said. He raised a tablet, displaying an image of the coordinates beyond the Cat's Eye Nebula. "Can you take us beyond the great eye?"
Beads of light glowed on the whisker. A rumble passed through the ship, moving from the whale into the hull. The whale gazed into his eyes.
He understands, Marco thought. He will help.
As Kemi guided the ship above the whale's back, Lailani pointed out the porthole, eyes wide.
"Look!" she whispered. "There's more!"
Keewaji pressed his face against a porthole, his voice filled with awe. "Like in the old stories. The great gods of the sky. The dancers of light."
They all stared outside, and they laughed with joy. Through space they glided, a whole pod of them, mighty starwhales. The largest were the size of starfighter carriers. The juveniles were no larger than the Marilyn, quick and playful. Gently, Kemi lowered the ship onto the whale's back. The pod moved closer together, and the round organs on their temples expanded, pulsed with light, and thrummed. Around the pod, the light of stars stretched out.
"They're forming a bubble of spacetime." Marco rubbed his eyes. "They evolved organs for it. Amazing."
Lailani shrugged, smiling. "Hey, it works for the ravagers. Why not the starwhales?"
The whales reached out their flowing barbels, interweaving them, and streams of light ran across the elongated organs. The whales bugled, the sound passing through the tendrils, into one another, into the ship. A whale's song. A song of joy, of exploration, of family. The song of the cosmic ocean. They swam onward toward the distant, glowing eye.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Addy stood in the compound, staring at the skinheads.
"I'd prefer fighting alongside the marauders," she said.
The skinheads snickered and muttered. They were an ugly bunch, ranging from muscular brutes to scrawny men with missing teeth. All had shaved their heads. All wore iron cross armbands with the slogan Earth Power written underneath. Over a hundred of them lived here in this abandoned military base.
"Now now, Linden." Hunt—the White Lion—stood before his men. He wore steel-tipped boots, a leather trench coat, and a bandoleer of bullets. "These are good folk here. Most are HDF soldiers. Others are just farmers and survivalists who joined us. But they all fight for me now. For the Rebellion."
Addy scoffed. "For the Rebellion or for Earth Power? I remember your rallies, Hunt. Don't think I forgot. Are you truly organizing an uprising against the marauders or just building up your little Nazi brigade?"
"We were always fighting aliens, Linden," Hunt said. "Even back before this war. We knew it was coming. We tried to warn the world. They called us xenophobes. White supremacists. Neo-Nazis. All for speaking about the danger in space. They didn't listen. Now the aliens are here. Now all those voices are silenced. Where is Never War, that group of hippies who attacked you? Dead. But Earth Power is still here, strong, brave, eager for the fight. We are the Rebellion."
Behind him, his men voiced their agreement. Hands rose in Nazi salutes.
"Earth Power!" they chanted. "Hail to the heroes!"
Addy looked over her shoulder at her men. At Steve. At Jethro. At the forty others she had brought here. The Resistance.
"They're a bunch of lunatics," Addy said to her people. "We wasted our time coming here. We, the Resistance, will continue the fight on our own. It's time to go home to the Ark."
But her people glanced at one another, then back at her, hesitant.
Jethro limped toward her on his prosthetic leg. "Addy, beggars can't be choosers."
She leaned toward the bearded man and whispered harshly, "They can when it's fucking Nazis!"
Steve joined the huddle. "Hey, Nazis are those fuckers from the history books, right? The real nasty bad guys?"
"Yeah, Steve." Addy rolled her eyes. "The real nasty ones."
The hockey player glanced toward the skinheads, then looked back at Addy and Jethro. "I don't like this. If Addy says they stink, these guys stink. They got a bad look to them. We'll fight without them."
Jethro inhaled deeply and narrowed his eyes. "Look, I don't like these assholes either. But I hate the marauders more. These guys have helicopters. Armored vehicles. They say they even got a bomber, an actual plane. How long can we last on our own? We need more people."
"We'll get more people," Addy said. "But these are not people. These are monsters, just as bad as the marauders." Her fury rose in her. "Fuck this shit. My friend Ben-Ari is Jewish. My friend Kemi is black. My friend Lailani is Asian. I won't tolerate no goddamn fucking white supremacists."
Boots thudded and belt buckles clanked. Addy turned to see Hunt approaching the group.
"Sergeant Linden," the skinhead said, "hear me out. Those were the old ways. Yes, I admit—there was a time when we cared for racial purity, for the pride of the Aryan race. There was a time when we called for the Jew, the black, the inferior races to be exterminated along with the scum. But today, all humans have a common enemy. Today we fight alongside all races against the only threat that matters: the marauders. In other times, perhaps we would be enemies. Today we must fight together." He raised his chin. "For humanity."
Addy glared at Hunt. "You don't represent humanity. You represent our lowest, most vile instincts. You represent what we outgrew. If you are what humanity is, then let the marauders wipe us out. Then we don't deserve to exist on this planet."
A flicker of anger crossed Hunt's eyes. Behind him, his men grumbled and reached for their weapons. But Hunt raised a hand, holding them back.
"Sleep on it, Linden," Hunt said. "You're tired, you're hungry, you're wounded. Shower, eat, tend to your wounds, sleep. Tomorrow we'll speak again. And I hope you choose to unite our forces." He gave her another salute, this time a military one. "I will gladly accept you as my commander. This will be your army, and it will be my honor to serve the great Addy Linden, she who defeated the scum. Your army, not mine. So sleep on it, Addy Linden, heroine of Earth."
That night, Addy lay in a bedroom on the Rebellion base. The cot was comfortable enough, and the room was warm, but she found no rest.
"This is fucked," she said to Steve, who lay beside her.
He bit his bottom lip. "I dunno, Ads. He said he's changed. He said he'd serve you."
"I don't want his kind in my army," she said. "He's a fascist, Steve. Even you know what that means. How are we any better than the scum, than the marauders, than any of those space bugs if we fight with guys like Hunt? They're the predators of humanity. We should be nobler than that."
"We are!" Steve said. "I am. You are. Your friends are. Hunt is just a tool. We use him, then toss him out."
Addy fumed, and she punched the mattress. "I hate this. I fucking hate this! If Ben-Ari were here, she'd never agree to it. Marco wouldn't either. I fucking hate that you make me even consider this."
Steve sat up in bed, na
ked, the sheet pulled over his lap. The moonlight poured through a window, limning his form and shining on his hair. Thin scars crawled across one shoulder and arm, but they could not mar his beauty.
I've always thought him beautiful, Addy thought. He doesn't even realize how beautiful he is, the big dummy.
"Have I ever told you about my dad?" he said.
"Just a bit," said Addy. "He owned a bar, right?"
Steve nodded. "Yeah. We all worked there as kids. My mom, me, my brothers—we worked in the kitchen, at the door, at the taps, the cash register. One time, when I was fifteen, I remember how Big Joe and his boys showed up at our bar."
Addy cocked her head. "Big Joe?"
"And his boys," said Steve. "Gangsters from the lower west side. Real slimeballs. Racketeering. Shark loans. Assassins for hire. They pimped prostitutes all over town. They drove nice cars, wore nice clothes, had money to spare. They came into our bar, ordered a feast, lots of drinks, lots of food, racked up a massive bill. Then left without paying."
"Fuckers," Addy said.
"Yeah. I was pissed. My dad was too. But who wants to get in trouble with Big Joe and the boys? They came back a few nights later. Same deal. Drank and ate and left without paying. Well, maybe we could have tolerated that. Better than getting in trouble with the gang. But see, other patrons started ditching us. They got scared. Joe's boys would slap girls on the ass, pick fights with their boyfriends, break glasses . . . They even stabbed somebody once. Pretty soon we were losing loyal customers."
"Fuck," Addy said.
Steve nodded. "So my old man tore open a mattress and pulled out all his savings. Big musty wads of cash. And he hired security guards—tough veteran dudes—to man the door and bar. Next time Joe and his boys showed up, we sent them home."
"And I imagine they didn't like that," Addy said.
"Oh, Joe and the boys left quietly that night," Steve said. "But the next morning, somebody slashed the tires of our car. The morning after that, we found a severed pig's head in our yard. The third day, somebody shot our dog. Drive-by dog shooting."
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