I Earthling (Soldiers of Earthrise Book 4) Page 3

  "With humanity!" Maria said. "With ending this war between Bahayans and Earthlings! With peace! Now help me or this whole city will burn. Or walk away and I'll do it myself."

  Maria raced down the alleyway, whipping between the rickshaws, stray cats, and street children. She reached the boulevard. Brightly-colored jeepneys and tuk-tuks cluttered the road. A few were honking. But most people emerged from the gridlocked vehicles and joined the protesters. Thousands were marching here, chanting over and over.

  "Earthlings go home!"

  The news came from a hundred shops along the road. Televisions, radios, and even a modern holo-screen were playing the confession. Snippets of the general's voice poured from all directions.

  "I ordered millions of Bahayan women and children killed."

  "Slits are nothing but vermin and whores."

  "It's my job to kill them."

  Maria closed her eyes, remembering those months spent with the general. Serving as his paramour. Pleasuring him in bed. Suffering his gifts and cruelty.

  For this.

  For a burning city.

  She opened her eyes and saw her world crumble.

  * * * * *

  A few Earthling soldiers marched onto the street, wearing armored battlesuits and helmets, rifles in hand. They towered over the Bahayans. On average, Earthlings stood much taller than Bahayans, and these weren't just ordinary Earthlings, but trained killers.

  Maria looked at them.

  They told us they came to liberate us from the Red Cardinal, she thought. But they're our enemy. And now the south rises.

  An Earthling soldier spoke into a megaphone. "Citizens of Mindao, return to your homes. We've implemented full martial law. Any citizens caught on the streets will be—"

  A rock hit him.

  Then another.

  More and more Bahayans hurled rocks at the soldiers. The Earthlings wore thick armor, but one rock smashed a man's visor. Another barrage of rocks knocked an Earthling down, and Bahayans began beating him with sticks.

  "Get off our world!" somebody shouted.

  "Go back to Earth!"

  "Freedom for Bahay! Freedom for Bahay!"

  Maria could barely believe it. For twenty years now, since the first Earth starship had arrived, South Bahay had fought alongside Earth, united in struggle against the Red Cardinal. Only the Kalayaan, a peasant uprising, fought Earth in the south. Now this entire city, traditionally a staunch ally of Earth, was rising in open rebellion.

  More rocks pounded the Earthlings. One Bahayan youth climbed onto a roof and hurled a Molotov cocktail. Fire swallowed an Earthling, and the man screamed and began pawing at his battlesuit, desperate to douse the flames.

  One Earthling raised his rifle and opened fire.

  Then another.

  A helicopter flew low, strafing the rooftops. A young Bahayan man, who was already preparing to hurl another incendiary, screamed and fell, riddled with bullets.

  That only enraged the crowd further. The Bahayans surged, thousands of them, flooding over the Earthlings. The Earthlings had guns, but they were only a few men. The crowd surged over them. They were like an army of ants swarming over a handful of armored beetles.

  Maria looked at her fellow bargirls.

  Charlie stood there, her fishnet stockings tattered, her hair filled with trash from the river. A few other bargirls stood behind her, members of the Bargirl Bureau, this little spy network Maria had founded. They didn't look much better. They were singed, wet, and draped with trash.

  And right now, they had to save this city.

  Pippi should be here with us. I killed her. I'm a murderer.

  Maria took a shaky breath. Not now! She would deal with that guilt later. Right now, if she didn't act fast, countless more would die.

  "Girls!" she said. "Get on the rooftops and dance!"

  Grace, one of the younger bargirls, tilted her head. "How will dancing stop this?"

  A few years ago, Grace had been a rice farmer, same as Maria. Earth's planes had spilled poison on her village, withering crops and people alike. Grace had wandered into the city, half-starved, her arms shrunken, mutated into arms no larger than a baby's. But her face was still beautiful, and she had found work as a bargirl. Like the other girls, she had danced, served drinks, even slept with Earthling soldiers, earning just enough for food and shelter. A few Earthlings found her shrunken arms disturbing, but most found Grace curious, even intoxicating. To them, her mutation only enhanced her charming vulnerability.

  Others bargirls approached Maria too. There was Joyce, an orphan, only fifteen years old, youngest of the group. Kim stood beside her, holding her half-Earthling baby, a child of rape. More joined them, the dregs of society, the bravest women Maria knew.

  "Yes, dancing!" Maria said. "That's how we bargirls fight. Follow my lead. Come on!"

  She climbed onto a rooftop—a sheet of rusty steel held down by tires. The hot metal seared her bare feet. Wincing, Maria hopped from roof to roof, moving toward the Earthling soldiers. With her pregnant belly, she was slower than normal. Over one alleyway, she slipped, slid down the roof, and nearly crashed down.

  Hands grabbed her. Charlie pulled her back.

  The older woman glared at her. "I saved your puwit again. You see? This is what friends do."

  Maria's eyes dampened. "Thank you, Charlie."

  But Charlie only glowered at her. Yes, Charlie was still angry. Maria did not blame her.

  I made a horrible choice, she thought. And I must face the repercussions. Somehow, I must mend my relationship with Charlie. And more importantly—face my own crushing guilt. But not now. Not today. Today I have lives to save.

  She reached a rooftop near the Earthling soldiers. The roof was just a sheet of corrugated steel, held down by rickshaw tires. The rippled metal seared Maria's bare feet.

  Standing on the rooftop, Maria began to dance. To sway seductively, the wind in her hair.

  She felt clumsy with her big belly. No longer the slim, attractive girl she had been. Well, okay, maybe she had never been attractive per se. Not as beautiful as Charlie, that was certain. But at least slender. Those days were long gone. She let her shame flow away with the wind. She kept dancing, pregnant belly and all. There was no music, but she could hear the music in her mind.

  A few Earthlings turned to look, no longer firing into the crowd.

  A few Bahayans stared too, rocks in hands, not tossing them. They watched their sister on the rooftops.

  Charlie heaved a sigh, then climbed onto another roof. She was curvier and prettier than Maria, and she drew even more attention, especially when she started to dance.

  "Hello, babies!" Charlie thrust out a hip, tossed back her head, and raised her hands overhead. "Free lap dances at the Go Go Cowgirl! Head to the Go Go Cowgirl, the finest club on the Blue Boulevard, to see more dances like this!"

  She swayed her hips. People watched from below, curious, frowning. A soldier tilted his head. They did not cheer like the men in the bars.

  But at least the people weren't killing one another anymore.

  The other bargirls climbed onto roofs too and struck poses.

  "Hey, boys!" said Kim. "Free dances for you tonight! Come on down to the Bottoms Up club, where dances are free all night!"

  "Woo, free Lady Boxing at Manila Nights club!" Joyce said, punching the air. "Hi-ya!"

  "Free beer at Pinoy Dreams!" said Grace. "Head on down!"

  The crowd just stared, confused.

  But when Charlie pulled off her shirt, revealing a red brazier hugging enviable breasts, one soldier cheered.

  When Grace danced, her withered arms raised, soldiers gazed with pity and awe.

  "Follow me to the Go Go Cowgirl!" Charlie said. She hopped from roof to roof, moving along a side road. "Come, soldiers of Earth, and see me dance—with a lot less clothing."

  A few Earthling soldiers looked at one another, hesitating.

  Then one raised his visor and whistled at Charlie. "You're fu
cking beautiful!"

  Another soldier raised his visor too. "You're gorgeous, lady! What's your name?"

  Charlie looked over her shoulder at them. "Follow me and find out."

  A few other bargirls began hopping down different paths, hips swaying, luring Earthlings like the Pied Piper leading children.

  Maybe that's all these Earthlings are, Maria thought. Children. Murderous boys, lost and afraid and far from home. How easily they kill us. How easily we seduce them.

  The bargirls had spent years learning how to lure Earthlings, but that only solved half the problem. The Bahayans on the streets were still grumbling, shouting. A few raised rocks, prepared to toss them again, to reignite the riot.

  So Maria began to sing to them.

  She did not sing a flirtatious or lewd song. She did not thrust out breasts or backside, nor flaunt the soft flesh of her thighs, for she did not perform to titillate Earthlings now.

  She sang a soft song. A sad song. A song in Tagalog, the language of her people. She sang "The Last Rose of Summer."

  People stopped and listened. A few shed tears.

  Bahay had no true planetary anthem. The Red Cardinal only allowed religious songs, while Santiago, the President of South Bahay, had chosen a bombastic anthem full of patriotic cliches. In many ways, "The Last Rose of Summer" was the true anthem of Bahay. The song of this world's hopes and dreams and sacred history. It told the tale of Lilibeth, the first baby born on Bahay, planter of trees and fields. She was so beautiful the twin moons became jealous, banished her into the wilderness, and turned her into a rose.

  It was a song of the first pilgrims from the Philippines arriving on Bahay. A song of struggling to tame a wild land, to grow crops in alien soil. The tale of comets striking the first generation—pieces of the moon falling into fields and villages, turning this new paradise into hell. A story of sacrifice, of hidden beauty in the rainforest, of hope in the dark. As a girl, Maria had thought it merely a fairytale, the tragic tale of a folk heroine. Now she realized it was the song of a nation.

  And the people began to sing with her.

  Dozens of voices. Then hundreds. Then thousands. Across the streets of their ravaged and raped city, the people sang.

  Maria sang the last note, but she knew that the song of Bahay would continue forever.

  The Earthlings vanished into the clubs. The rioters shed tears as their song still echoed.

  Maria looked around her. The fire was dying down in the shantytown, and the corpses were being pulled away to burial. Far away, the cemetery lay in shadows.

  She had saved this city tonight. But the hunter still lurked among the tombstones. And inside her chest, the grief and guilt coiled like twin demons.

  Maria fell to her knees on the roof, lowered her head, and placed a hand on her belly. Her baby kicked inside.

  "I killed my best friend," she whispered. "I killed Pippi. But I did it for you, my child. To save your life. Your mother would burn down the world to protect you."

  Finally Maria allowed herself to sob.

  Chapter Four

  Gummy Worms?

  Kaelyn watched the news from her hospital bed.

  The election for Earth's president was underway.

  The news anchor, a graceful Japanese woman, tried to fill time while the votes were being counted. Dressed in a neat suit, her heels clacking, she moved around a holographic display of Earth, going over the history of the united planet.

  Kaelyn knew all this already. But the pain was bad today. A bullet through the gut was no laughing matter, and even the drugs couldn't hide the pain. She tried to concentrate on the television, to forget her pain, to drown in news.

  This went beyond her pain. The fate of Earth and Bahay would be determined today.

  "A hundred and thirty years ago, aliens invaded Earth, slaughtering half the population. We call it the Cataclysm—the greatest carnage since the Black Death." The broadcaster spoke in Japanese, and English subtitles ran across the bottom. "Until then, Earth was divided into hundreds of squabbling nations. But after the Cataclysm, the survivors banded together, forming a United Earth."

  Kaelyn liked the Japanese channel. It was less violently loud and angry, less blatantly biased than other channels. The talking heads on American TV seemed no better than those old squabbling nations. Hens picking at one another in a cage.

  "For over a century now," the broadcaster said, "the President of Earth has led our world. The old nations, those that survived the Cataclysm, maintained their culture, language, and national identity. But they all began to serve one leader. Our president."

  "If you ask me, it's fucked up," Kaelyn muttered. She rarely cursed. Maybe it was the painkillers speaking. But after years of President Hale, she wasn't sure a single man leading an entire planet was a great idea.

  The broadcaster continued speaking. "Of course, a few nations have tried to secede from the union. They were beaten down. A few colonies in space, like Ganymede, rebelled. We subdued those rebellions. Today, we all acknowledge the truth. That to face a dangerous galaxy, one swarming with predatory civilizations, we must be united. One empire. One army. One species."

  Kaelyn grumbled under her breath. Maybe Japan Star Broadcasting wasn't so unbiased after all.

  She didn't trust the government. It was hard to when you lay in a hospital bed, a hole in your stomach—one put there by a government agent.

  But even Kaelyn had to admit the system wasn't all bad. The president was democratically elected, after all, not a tyrant. And some presidents had been wonderful. Einav Ben-Ari, the previous president, had governed for fifty years before disappearing in retirement. They called her the Golden Lioness, the famous general who had beaten back the aliens, who had ushered in a golden age of peace and exploration. Perhaps someday, a second golden age would emerge.

  The broadcaster touched her earpiece and frowned. "And it seems like we're down to only two candidates now. Let's take a look at who's still in the race. First, we have incumbent President Henry Hale, running for another term."

  A hologram appeared in the studio, showing President Hale. He was a tall, muscular man with silver hair and cold blue eyes. Kaelyn shuddered.

  You murdered Lizzy, she thought. You tried to murder me and Etty. And you sent countless numbers of our boys and girls to die on Bahay. She clenched her fists. They shook.

  Hale's hologram faded.

  The broadcaster said, "And, hoping to unseat the president tonight, is Adam Ben-Ari, the Young Lion."

  A new hologram appeared, showing a handsome man with a wide jaw and broad shoulders. Silver streaked his black hair and beard. Here stood Adam Ben-Ari, a retired military officer, new to politics. He had fought on Bahay during the first invasion twenty years ago. He had won medals for charging into enemy fire, taking several bullets, to save the lives of his stranded comrades. Before that, he had fought on Ganymede, helping to quell the theocratic uprising. He was a war hero, but mostly people talked about his heritage.

  Adam Ben-Ari was the grandson of Einav Ben-Ari. She was the Golden Lioness, and they called him the Young Lion, the great hope to restore the previous dynasty.

  Having just turned eighteen, Kaelyn had voted for him, albeit reluctantly. She knew history. She knew that for thousands of years, through monarchy and democracy and almost every other system of government, humanity had fostered dynastic ruling families. It rarely ended well.

  A man who is leader because of his family name, not his character, is no true leader, Kaelyn thought.

  So no, she didn't trust Adam Ben-Ari. She didn't know if he'd be a good ruler like his grandmother. She didn't know if he deserved this lofty post, the responsibility of leading humanity.

  But she did know two things.

  First, Adam Ben-Ari understood the horrors of war. He knew when it was necessary to fight—and he could fight bravely, as he proved on the battlefields of Ganymede and Bahay. Just as importantly, he knew when not to fight. Like Lizzy Pascal and millions of others, A
dam Ben-Ari was a proud veteran who loved Earth, fought honorably, and believed the war on Bahay must now end. As president, he would end it.

  Second—well, he wasn't President Hale. He had that going for him.

  So yes, Kaelyn had swallowed her reluctance and voted for this scion of a famous legacy. Now she watched the votes come in, gnawing her fingernails.

  "Currently, President Hale and Mr. Ben-Ari are tied at fifty percent of the vote," the news anchor reported. "But three billion more votes are still pouring in from across Earth and her colonies."

  Counters appeared below the holograms of each man.

  President Hale rose to 51%.

  Then votes from Haven Colony at Alpha Centauri came in via wormhole. Hale sank down to 49%, and Ben-Ari took the lead.

  Votes came in from Xiaochong City on Mars. Adam Ben-Ari rose to 52%, only to sink back to 49% when votes poured in from Ganymede and Titan.

  Votes came in from Israel next, Adam Ben-Ari's home. The Israelis almost all voted for him. Their population was too small to make a big difference. But they nudged their candidate up a fraction of a percent.

  It went on and on. The counter kept seesawing between the men, moving one or two percent up, then down again. Kaelyn was practically chewing her fingers down to the knuckles.

  With every moment, she loved Adam Ben-Ari a little more. When he was ahead, he seemed like a saint. When he was behind, he seemed like a messiah, struggling to battle through darkness on his quest to save the world.

  It's funny how quickly you can forget a man's flaws when you share an enemy, Kaelyn thought.

  The door to her hospital room burst open. Etty ran inside.

  "Did I miss it? Do they have a winner? What's going on? Tell me, tell me!"

  Kaelyn turned toward her friend. "Where were you?"

  Etty grinned. "Getting snacks!"

  She lifted bags full of potato chips, chocolate bars, and enough candies to give a dentist a heart attack.