On the monitor, Jade screamed, and the transmission died.
Emet flew in a fury, skimming the surface of the Venom. The dreadnought was firing its cannons now. Emet swerved left and right, dodging the blows, then emerged over the prow of the massive striker. He raced into space.
But an entire brigade of strikers awaited him, blocking his passage. Thousands of other ships were converging behind him.
"I know her," Rowan whispered. "But it can't be. It can't be . . ."
Emet ignored her, focusing on flying. He charged forth, whipping between the ships, as plasma blasted around him. A bolt hit their stern, and the Cagayan de Oro tilted, nearly cracking open. Emet flew onward, limping, desperate to break free but knowing he could not.
Then we die flying, he thought. Not tortured but in battle.
He charged toward the enemy battalion, knowing he would not break through. He fired his last functioning cannon.
We go down in a blaze of glory.
Rowan pointed above. "Sir! The starlight is bending again!"
He held his breath, wincing.
And from above, more ships emerged from warp space.
A mere handful, no more than twenty, their hulls emblazoned with symbols of winged blue planets.
Human ships.
The Heirs of Earth had arrived.
"Leona!" Emet whispered.
She came charging forth in the ISS Jerusalem, all her cannons blasting. Her warships flew around her, pounding the strikers with a barrage of torpedoes and shells. The enemy ships shattered. A hole broke open in their formation.
"You've got a path out, Dad!" Leona cried over the comm. "Let's get the hell out of here!"
Emet stormed forth, barreling between the burning strikers. The rest of the Inheritor fleet flew with him, all their guns firing, blasting their way through.
They broke out into open space.
"Into the wormhole!" Emet shouted. "Everyone, into Terminus Wormhole!"
He raced toward the shimmering portal.
The other starships joined him.
They dived into the sphere of light, this passageway built by an ancient, lost civilization.
Luminescence flowed around them, and they streamed forward down a tunnel of starlight.
Within moments, they had traveled many light-years, a journey that would normally take weeks, even with their warp drives.
The Jerusalem fell through another portal back into open space. The other starships followed. They floated in silence, deep in Concord space. A place where the enemy dared not follow.
The border. The invasion. The countless Hierarchy warships. They were all left far behind.
Emet allowed himself a brief moment of silence—just to sit, to breathe. He had come close to death countless times since founding the Heirs of Earth thirty years ago. He had seen hundreds of his people die.
But this was new.
This was genocide, and this was galactic war.
And Emet had never been more terrified.
"Dad?" Leona's voice came over the comm, calling from the Jerusalem that flew nearby. "I have a thousand gulock survivors with me. It's bad." Her voice was haunted. "It's really bad."
For the first time, Emet noticed that deathcars, once used to transport human prisoners to gulocks, now flew as part of the Inheritor fleet, their hulls crudely painted with Earth's symbol. They would be filled with survivors. Hungry. Sick. Needing Emet to be strong, to lead them, to bring them home. Yet home had never seemed so far away.
Emet turned toward Rowan. The girl sat beside him, still clutching her pistol, her knuckles white around the hilt. Her brown eyes stared ahead, filled with ghosts.
Yes, I faced death countless times, Emet thought. She has not. His heart gave a twist. She stared death in the face today. And not for the last time.
"Rowan," he said.
She turned toward him. "Sir."
He placed a hand on her slender shoulder. "You said that you knew her. The woman in the scorpion ship."
Rowan nodded, and a tear streamed down her cheek. Her voice was barely even a whisper. "She's my sister."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
The giant skeleton lay in the desert, the size of a dreadnought, bleached and smoothed by eras of sand and sunlight. Bay flew Brooklyn down toward it, seeking forgetfulness within its bones.
"Bay, you promised me," Brooklyn said. "A nice planet with grass and sunlight. Not another sin hive."
"There's sunlight here," he said.
"Because it's a mucking desert!" the starship said. "Bay! Is this why we left the Heirs of Earth? To land in another Paradise Lost, and—"
"Brooklyn, enough," Bay said. "We just need to recoup our costs. Your wing wasn't cheap to fix, you know. I'll play some Five Card Bluff, win some scryls, and then find a better place. All right?
The starship sighed. Her camera drooped. She said nothing more.
Bay glided her down toward the skeleton. He landed on a sandy field by the skull. The eye sockets peered down, large enough for a starship to fly through. The jaws gaped open, as large as a temple, teeth like columns.
A few dozen starships parked around Brooklyn, hulls sandy. Most were the spiky, graffiti-covered ships of smugglers, thieves, and mercenaries. A handful of reptilian bounty hunters leaned against a boulder, smoking living serpents like cigars. Aliens in black robes and hoods, this world's natives, rode giant millipedes.
"Bay, don't leave me here," Brooklyn said. "I—"
"Brook!" he said. "Damn it! I told you, I need to do this, all right?"
"No you don't, Bay!" She rocked in the sand. "You can go back to your dad. To your sister. To Rowan. You can—"
"I won't go back!" Bay said. "I won't fight in a war. I won't see Rowan die like Seohyun, like—"
He bit down on his words.
"Oh, Bay," Brooklyn whispered.
"Just . . . go into sleep mode or something." Bay exited the starship without another word.
He stepped through the jaws of the giant skeleton. Many aliens moved around him, riding, hovering, slithering, clattering. As always, Bay slouched, his hood pulled low over his head, his long sleeves hiding his hands, trying to vanish into the crowd.
The skeleton was half buried in the sand. The ribs rose like columns alongside a central promenade, supporting the spine high above. Stalls filled the spaces between the ribs, shaded by awnings and curtains and strings of jingling beads. There were scaly soothsayers with long white mustaches, vowing to tell Bay's fortune for a handful of scryls; drug dens where aliens lay on tasseled rugs, smoking from hookahs; fighting pits where crowds cheered, watching naked felines hiss and scratch and claw each other apart; shops selling rusty guns, spiky grenades, and swords with horn hilts; apothecaries where hooded aliens sold vials of medicine and poison; gambling tents where aliens hunched over stone boards, moving pieces of brass and glass and bone; and a thousand other nooks for every sin imaginable.
Bay wanted to stop and gamble. But he was too shaky. His bad hand ached. He wandered through the crowd until he found what he sought. Every sin hive had one. The stall was at the back, draped with curtains. A sign formed of blue and gold tiles displayed the words Electric Dreams.
Bay stepped inside. An embroidered rug covered the floor, and tasseled cushions lay strewn across the room. There was a hookah filled with bubbling green hintan, a bowl of water with some towels, and a virtual reality helmet. No body suit—just a few sensors to strap onto his body. But beggars couldn't be choosers.
The helmet was made for aliens with larger heads. But again, it would have to do. When Bay placed it on, it wobbled.
A robotic voice spoke through speakers embedded inside the helmet. "Insert payment to embark upon your romantic adventure."
Bay felt around the side of the helmet, found a slot, and dropped in a few scryls. The interface came to life.
A voice spoke again, this time feminine and seductive. "Please choose a species, then begin to customize your erotic companion."
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br /> A menu allowed him to scroll through a library of several thousand species. He scrolled down until he found human, then began to customize his creation. He made the human female, then began building her body, choosing height, weight, hair, eyes, and every other feature from a menu. Bay normally preferred tall, curvy blondes or redheads. Today he created a slender, short woman—only five feet tall. He gave his companion short brown hair and dark eyes.
"Companion completed," intoned the voice.
The virtual reality girl nestled against him. "Hello, darling. May I keep you company tonight?"
He wrapped his arms around her. "Just let me hold you."
She nuzzled him. "Of course, sir. Shall I pleasure you?"
He shook his head. "No. Do you have any movies?"
The hologram stroked his chin. "Does not compute, sir. Movies?"
"Yeah, movies," Bay said. "With swords and wizards and . . ."
He heaved a sigh.
This is wrong.
The girl kissed him and stroked his body. "Allow me to pleasure you, sir."
He grabbed her wrist. "No. You don't have to. Not tonight. I just want to hold you. Okay, Rowan?"
She smiled at him. "Would you like my name to be Rowan?"
He blinked at her.
"What am I doing?" he whispered.
The avatar touched his cheek. "You are embarking on the erotic adventure of a lifetime, courtesy of Electric Drea—"
Bay pulled off his helmet.
He ripped off his sensors.
A robotic voice emerged from the helmet at his feet. "No refunds. Please visit Doctor Tingle at booth 17 for all your sexual dysfunction needs."
Bay kicked the helmet across the room.
He knelt on the carpet, head lowered.
From across the hive rose the sounds of sin. Aliens cheered as one gladiator slew another. Bay closed his eyes and clenched his fists until both hands hurt.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
The scorpions had only inched into Concord space.
They had only annexed a single planet—and without shedding a drop of blood.
And within hours, a massive Concord armada was flying their way, determined to crush the invaders.
Caught between both armies, the Heirs of Earth flew through space, heading toward the advancing Concord fleet.
"Are you sure about this, lad?" said Duncan, standing on the bridge of the Jerusalem. "This isn't our fight."
"It is our fight," Emet said, staring at the thousands of Concord warships. "Millions of humans cry out in agony, suffering in Hierarchy space. The scorpions will slay them all. Our people. We must fight them."
Duncan gave his beard a nervous tug. "Emet, the Concord is more than capable of handling the threat. Look at them." He gestured with one of his broad hands. "They have thousands of warships. What help can we possibly offer? We're like a wee hornet volunteering to fight alongside falcons."
"Hornets too can be deadly," Emet said. "We'll do our part in this war."
Duncan was silent for a long moment. Finally he stepped closer and placed a hand on Emet's shoulder. "Laddie, I'm afraid. I don't like to admit it. But I am. I'm afraid we'll lose our fleet. Our warriors. That the Heirs of Earth will perish in this battle. We can leave the Concord and Hierarchy to fight each other. We can sail away. We can seek Earth. That's our mission."
Emet turned to look at his friend. Duncan stood a foot shorter but even broader, and despite his age, he was still strong, his arms so powerful they could topple worlds.
"Duncan, we have only two thousand humans in our ships. It's not enough. Our mission is not only to find Earth, but also to bring Earth's children home. And right now, Earth's children need us here. On the front line. In this war." He clasped his friend's shoulder. "You've fought at my side for thirty years, Dunc. Fight with me now too."
Duncan's eyes warmed, and he tightened his lips.
"Aye, laddie. I'll fight with ya. Even if ya lead us into hell."
Emet gazed ahead. The Concord armada was close now. Their thousands of warships glimmered across space like a field of stars. Several species had come to fight. There were oval, scaled ships that looked like dragon eggs—the ships of the Tarmarins, desert dwellers from Til Shiran. There were fleshy podships, deep purple and gray, built of fungus—the vessels of the Esporians, a race of sentient mushrooms. A few ships were glimmering crystals, most larger than the Jerusalem; they transported the Silicades, a race of intelligent aliens formed of silicon crystals. A handful of ships were formed of cylinders filled with water; inside swam the Gouramis, a race of intelligent fish.
But these strange ships only formed the flanks. The Aelonians, the most powerful race in the Concord, formed the vanguard.
Aelonian starships were leaf-shaped and silvery, beautiful and deadly like ancient daggers. Emet had rarely met Aelonians. They were a mighty race, the central pillar of the Concord, but loath to leave their home system. Their homeworld hosted many famous institutions: Concord Hall, a shimmering glass tower that hosted ambassadors from ten thousand civilizations; the Citadel of Peace, a mighty fortress, headquarters of the Peacekeepers Corp that unified the Concord; the Temple of Memory, a vast library containing the wisdom and cultural heritage of many worlds; the Cosmic Museum, where the secrets of nature and history were preserved; the Botanical Terrarium, containing plants from countless worlds; and many other grand buildings.
The Aelonians were scientists and scholars—but also warriors. Their fleet was vast, their power terrifying.
If any one race can rival the scorpions, it's the Aelonians, Emet thought.
As he flew toward the Concord fleet, Emet worried that they'd open fire on the Heirs of Earth. After all, humans were not a Concord member. They operated outside the law. Emet prepared to reverse and flee.
Several Concord ships turned toward the human fleet, guns extending. Yet they did not attack. Not yet.
The Aelonian flagship flew closer. Letters on its hull named it The Iliria. It was a massive ship, as large as Central Park on old Earth. It hailed the Jerusalem.
Emet looked at the gargantuan alien starship. The Iliria made the Jerusalem seem small and ugly. The Aelonian flagship was shaped like a broad dagger, tapering to a point. It shone like mother of pearl, and its engines emitted white light. It floated like a shard of moonlight.
Emet accepted the call. An Aelonian appeared on his monitor.
"Greetings, Emet Ben-Ari, lord of humans. I am Admiral Melitar, high commander of the Aelonian fleet. In our databases, you are designated as a terrorist linchpin, wanted on many Concord worlds. Why do you approach our armada?"
Some called the Aelonians beautiful, but Emet had always found them unsettling. Their shape was humanoid—relatively rare in a galaxy swarming with giant insects, technologically savvy fish, sentient plants, and living crystals. The Aelonians had two legs, two arms, one head. But there the resemblance to humans ended.
Their skin was transparent, revealing luminous organs and glowing blood. Some animals on Earth, Emet had read, were bioluminescent. Angler fish, for example, attracted prey with a glowing bulb on their heads. The Aelonians had evolved on a dark planet that orbited a red dwarf, a world of perpetual shadows. To compensate, they had evolved to glow. Gazing at this Aelonian, Emet could see its heart beat, its entrails coil, its lungs pump, its blood flow through the veins, all glowing blue, red, and yellow.
"Greetings, Admiral Melitar," Emet said. "I am Admiral Emet Ben-Ari, commander of the Heirs of Earth. We come to offer aid. We wish to join you, to help fight the Hierarchy. I see many civilizations flying with you to war. Let humanity fight too."
The Aelonian considered for a moment. He spoke to his officers, then looked back at Emet. "I will send a shuttle for you. Come board the Iliria. Come alone with no weapons. We will talk."
The transmission died.
A hatch opened on the silvery ship, and a teardrop shuttle emerged. It came flying toward the Jerusalem. Emet placed Thunder and Lightning aside.
Duncan placed a hand on Emet's shoulder. "Are you sure about this, laddie? May I remind you that you're still a wanted terrorist mastermind. At least, according to those walking lava lamps."
Emet smiled thinly. "If they wanted to kill me, Duncan, they could blast us out of space. I'll talk to him."
"Aye, you do that, laddie," Duncan muttered. "Go talk to the shiny buggers. Might want to take sunglasses with ya."
The Aelonian shuttle connected with the Jerusalem's airlock, and Emet boarded the small, silvery vessel.
The shuttle's pilot, a female Aelonian, greeted him.
"Greetings, human! I am Nelitana, pilot of this shuttle." She handed him a glowing glass flower. "I will accompany you to my mothership."
Emet accepted the gift. "Thank you, Nelitana."
Nelitana was taller than him, but slender and graceful. She was also naked. Very naked. The Aelonians believed that nothing should be hidden—not the mind nor the body. Emet could not only see her body. He could see into her body. Her skin was transparent, revealing the glowing organs, her circulatory and nervous system, even her last meal. She seemed made of glass, same as her flower, filled with glowing orbs and liquid light.
"You seem joyous, Admiral Ben-Ari," Nelitana said, flying the shuttle back toward her mothership.
Emet struggled to stifle his smile, cursing Duncan for making him think of walking lava lamps.
"I'm pleased to be welcomed aboard your ship," he said.
Nelitana returned his smile, teeth shining. They reached the Iliria, the Aelonian flagship. The shuttle flew into a hangar, and they stepped out. The air was cool, the gravity light, the shadows deep.
Nelitana accompanied Emet along a dark corridor. The ship had no artificial lights; the Aelonians relied on their own glow. As they walked, Emet saw doorways leading to caverns filled with other Aelonians, but also glowing plants and luminous fish in aquariums. Perhaps they were pets. Perhaps food sources.
They finally reached the bridge, a circular chamber like a planetarium. Monitors covered every surface—the walls, the domed ceiling, even the floor, displaying an image of space all around. Emet could see the stars, the rest of the armada, and his own fleet nearby. It felt like floating through space.
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