A Memory of Earth Page 7

  She had no more aether, and her runes did not shine, but traces of the substance still clung to the blade. It was just enough. The white blade sank into the scorpion's head, piercing the thick exoskeleton.

  Yet the creature did not die.

  The alien turned toward her, screaming, a sound so loud Coral nearly dropped her blade to cover her ears.

  She stared at the scorpion, lips peeled back.

  "Leave this place!" she said, runeblade held before her.

  The creature hissed, drooling. Blood filled its mouth. Bay lay on the floor, still, maybe dead.

  "Leave!" Coral repeated, voice louder now. "By the light of the aether, by the honor of weavers, I banish you from this place!"

  The scorpion took a step toward her, laughing. It spoke in a guttural voice. "You have nice drawings on your skin. I will hang your pelt in my emperor's hall."

  Coral refused to back away. She held the blade before her. The scorpion was not attacking yet.

  It's afraid, she thought.

  She had no more aether to summon. She was so weak she nearly fell. But she was still a weaver. Still a human. Still far from powerless.

  "I am Coral Amber of Til Shiran, Journeywoman of the Weavers Guild! I am a servant of the ancients, a wielder of the aether, a warrior for light! Leave this place, beast who dwells in shadows. You are not welcome here. Leave now or burn in the Empyrean light!"

  It hissed. It took a step closer. She pointed her dagger, and it retreated a step.

  "Leave!" she said. "Leave now! I banish you from this place."

  She thrust her dagger into the air. Again. Again. With every thrust, the scorpion took another step back, until the alien backed out of the Brooklyn. The creature sneered at her from the hangar floor.

  "The scorpions rise," the alien said. "You cannot stop this, weaver. Humanity will fall."

  "But not today," Coral said.

  She slammed the airlock door shut, sealing the alien outside.

  Immediately, Coral leaned over Bay. He was unconscious but still alive, breathing shallowly. Possibly, Coral could heal his wounds with aether, could still save his life. But not like this. She was too weary, drained of the power. It would be a while before she could summon that light.

  She ran into the ship's washroom, opened the cabinet, and found a first aid kit. She did what she could with gauze and bandages, stopping the blood flow, but Bay remained unconscious. The wound on his chest worried her the most. He seemed to be breathing well enough. Did that mean his lungs had not been pierced, that the wound was not deep? Coral hoped so. Perhaps blood loss was his greatest threat now, not internal injuries.

  "Hang in there, Bay," she whispered. "Until I can summon more aether."

  Booms sounded outside. Shrieks rose. The strikers were still pounding the Jerusalem, and scorpions were still aboard.

  She had to fly out now.

  Leaving Bay in the hold, Coral raced into the cockpit. The dashboard spread before her, covered with buttons and monitors and levers and switches. The system was off, and Coral had no idea how to use it. She'd have to figure things out on the fly. She hit buttons at random, and the dashboard came to life. Lights turned on. The monitors began to display stats. The engines purred.

  And the ISS Brooklyn shuddered.

  "Bay!" A feminine voice emerged from the ship's speakers. "Bay, oh Ra, Bay!" A camera swiveled toward Coral. "What happened? Who are you? Did you do this? Is he dead? You killed him! You killed him, you murderer! Bay!"

  Coral blinked. Talking machines? Truly space was a place of sorcery.

  "It was not me, but a scorpion who stabbed him," Coral said, facing the camera. "I can save his life, but we must fly out. Now! Can you leave the hangar?"

  "Yes, but—" the shuttle began.

  "Then fly!" Coral said. "Fly away from this battle. Fly into deep space! Go now, and I will heal Bay when I can."

  Brooklyn hesitated. "I'm not allowed to leave. I—"

  "If you want Bay to live, we must go!" Coral said. "I'm a weaver. Do you know what that means?"

  Brooklyn gasped. "A weaver! I thought they were all gone. The legends speak of the Weavers Guild. They say you can fight like gods! That you can heal the wounded, even raise the dead. You must heal Bay! Please!"

  "Brooklyn, you must fly out—now!"

  "And you will heal him?"

  Coral nodded.

  The shuttle spun toward the exit, the hangar doors opened, and Brooklyn shot outside.

  As they raced away from the Jerusalem, Coral looked around her. Several human ships had shattered. Leona and her starships were gone, perhaps destroyed, perhaps already traveling to Earth. The rest of the fleet was beginning to retreat. Ship after ship began blasting into the distance at warp speed. Soon even the large frigates were turning tail and vanishing with streaks of light.

  We lost this battle, Coral thought. But we live to fight another day.

  "They're fleeing to the Diluvian sector," Brooklyn said. "Admiral Emet has called for us all to fall back."

  "We won't join them," Coral said. "We have a different mission. I need you to fly to the Elysium system."

  Brooklyn's camera spun toward her. "What? My comm is receiving no such orders."

  "The order came from the admiral himself," Coral lied. "He told me in person. It's too secret to transmit through open space. Head there now, and hurry! Those strikers are charging toward us."

  Brooklyn made a small, choked sound, and a deep hum rose from her engines. Blue light filled the cockpit. The ship's warp drive turned on.

  Coral grimaced as spacetime bent around them.

  Past and present blended together.

  Coral saw herself a child in a desert. Saw the scaly aliens laugh as they killed her parents. Saw the wise old weavers take her into their guildhall, teach her the ways of the ancients. And she saw herself an old woman, wizened, mourning a horrible loss.

  The stars stretched out around her like strands of aether.

  The shuttle glided through different space, moving in a bubble of warped spacetime.

  Coral blinked and rubbed her temples, bringing herself back to the present. In many ways, entering warp drive felt like accessing the Empyrean Firmament, discovering a different reality.

  When she could walk again, Coral stumbled back into the hold. She knelt over Bay. He was waking up, eyes sunken, skin pale. Blood soaked his bandages.

  "Rowan," he whispered hoarsely. "Where is Rowan . . ."

  His eyes closed.

  "I'm here," Coral whispered, stroking his hair. "Stay strong, Bay. Stay alive until I can heal you."

  "I love you, Rowan," he whispered, then lost consciousness.

  Coral held him in her arms, not knowing if he'd live or die.

  If I fail in my mission, she thought, we all die. Every last human. I must find the Godblade. I must find it before the scorpions do. And I must win this war!

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The fleet limped through space, battered and scarred. The Heirs of Earth had fought another battle and lost. Hope seemed as far and dim as Earth herself.

  Emet stood on the bridge, head lowered, thinking of the dead.

  Of his wife, buried on a distant world.

  Of the hundreds who had fallen in the recent attack.

  Of the hundreds who had fallen at Terminus.

  Of the millions who were crying out in gulocks, desperate for aid.

  "Wherever there are humans in need," Emet said softly, "we will be there." He clenched his fist. "Those are our words. But we are so few. And so many cry out."

  Silence filled the bridge.

  Nobody was there to answer.

  Emet missed Duncan, his dear friend, but he was gone. He missed David Emery, co-founder of the Heirs, but the man had betrayed him, and his bones now lay in a cave across the galaxy. Leona had flown to seek Earth, and Bay was missing with the Brooklyn.

  Emet had no way of knowing if his children were alive. They were beyond the range of comms. Had Leona esc
aped on time? Had Bay fled the battle, or had he gotten lost in the chaos? Were both still breathing?

  Emet stood there, alone with his despair, a demon that clawed at his throat.

  "No." He placed his hand on his pistol. "Not alone."

  He raised his head.

  He stared through the viewport, and he still saw a fleet.

  They had lost ships at Terminus Wormhole, lost ships in the ambush, and lost ships in many other battles. But the Heirs of Earth still flew. Emet still stood aboard the ISS Jerusalem, a mighty frigate. Two more frigates flanked him. Cargo holds still flew among them, still sheltering thousands of refugees from many worlds. A hundred smaller ships, ranging from heavy corvettes to agile starfighters, circled the fleet.

  It was a small fleet. Barely an army. In a galaxy where mighty civilizations clashed, where millions of starships battled in the dark, the Heirs of Earth were hardly more than a flotilla of haunted, powerless refugees.

  But we're not powerless, Emet thought. We have a secret weapon. A thin smile stretched his lips. A weapon that can win this war.

  He hit the comm on his lapel, calling her cabin.

  "Corporal Emery?" he said. "This is Admiral Ben-Ari. Report to the bridge at once."

  He could hear Rowan gasp through the comm. "Be right there, sir!"

  He ended the call.

  In the silence, guilt filled him.

  He liked Rowan. She was young, brave, and intelligent. She cared deeply for Earth. Yes, she was the daughter of the traitor, but Rowan was different. She was decent.

  And a few weeks ago, I blasted her out of an airlock, Emet thought. And now I must sacrifice her again.

  He clenched his fists. The guilt weighed on his shoulders. It was a struggle to keep his back straight.

  Could he truly do this? Truly lead the girl into danger, into nearly certain death?

  "Yes," he hissed through clenched teeth. "Yes! A thousand times—yes!"

  The weight would forever crush him. So be it! Military leaders had always borne the weight of their dead. This was the game Emet was playing. Sacrifice a pawn to win a queen.

  Rowan was dear to him. In another life, he might have seen her as a daughter.

  But Rowan, you are still a pawn, and your sister is a queen, and I'm sorry. But to save the millions, I must send you into the fire.

  "Sir?"

  Emet turned to see Rowan enter the bridge.

  A bruise spread across the girl's cheek, and a bandage clung to her temple. Her brown trousers were torn, revealing scratches on her legs. The girl had fought bravely when the scorpions had boarded the Jerusalem, slaying one of the beasts herself. Her hand now rested on Lullaby, her pistol.

  Emet gazed at the Earthstone that hung from her neck, the treasure she had guarded for years. He looked into her eager eyes, at the courage and love for Earth he saw there. The weight seemed even heavier now.

  Why must the brightest stars burn to hold back the night? he thought.

  "Sir, you wanted to see me?" Rowan said. "Is there any news of Bay?"

  "I've sent out three space-racers, the fastest ones we have, to seek him," Emet said. "It'll be a while before we hear back. Bay has flown off aboard Brooklyn before. We must be hopeful."

  Rowan bit her lip and nodded. "Yes, sir."

  But Emet could see the fear in her eyes. The same fear filled Emet.

  Had Bay truly fled again? Or had he died in the battle? So many were missing, blasted into space during the battle. Even Coral the weaver was gone. The icy terror filled him. Emet forced it down. Right now, he had a duty to his people. To Rowan. To humanity.

  "Come, Corporal, stand beside me," Emet said. "Look with me at the stars."

  She came to stand beside him, not even half his size. The galaxy's spiral arm spread out before them.

  "It's beautiful, sir," Rowan breathed. The stars shone in her eyes. "And somewhere among those millions of stars is Earth."

  "We're not looking in Earth's direction," Emet said. "We're flying toward the front line now. Away from Earth. Toward the fire."

  "Oh." Rowan bit her lip. "It all looks the same, doesn't it? All of space is so beautiful, even if it hides so much ugliness." She took a shuddering breath and tightened her grip on her pistol.

  "Are you afraid, Corporal?" Emet said.

  "Of course." Rowan nodded. "I'm terrified, sir. But I won't run." She looked up into his eyes. "I know that my father ran. I don't know what his reasons were. I know many say he was a coward. I think he just wanted to save me and Jade. But know this, sir: I will never run. I will never abandon Earth. I will fight for you. Always. Whatever sins stain my father's memory, I will redeem him."

  If would be easier to sacrifice you if you hated me, if you were disloyal, Emet thought. Once you learn what I want, you might learn to hate me like David did.

  That old pain and guilt resurfaced.

  Of course, David was not a coward. He had a reason to hate me. To run from me. After I . . .

  Emet shoved that memory aside. He had vowed to forget. It hurt too much. It was another weight he would always bear.

  "Corporal, look at the ships flying around us," he said. "What do you see?"

  "Pride!" she said. "Strength! Humanity! I see Earth painted on the hulls of mighty warships. I see humans who will no longer hide in ducts or caves. I see warriors."

  Emet nodded. "Brave warriors. The finest in the galaxy. But too few. Most of us are refugees. Too young or too old or too wounded to fight. We have only a few hundred fighters. Corporal, we cannot win this war with strength of arms."

  "Then we will win it with courage!" Rowan said, eyes shining. "Like the Rohirrim charging toward the orcs at Pelennor Fields!" She bit her lip. "Sorry, sir, you probably don't know them. I grew up learning about life from movies and books."

  "Maybe courage is enough in movies and books and other old tales," Emet said. "But in our day, we need more than bullets and bravery. We need deception." He turned away from the viewport. He stared into her eyes. "Corporal, your sister is leading the assault on humanity. She is carrying out the Human Solution, the genocide of our people. We cannot defeat her in open battle. But we can trap her. I will set the trap. You will be the bait. And we will end this."

  Rowan inhaled sharply. "A trap!" she whispered. "Like Admiral Ackbar flew into!"

  "Admiral Ackbar?" Emet frowned. "Does he serve in the Aelonian fleet?"

  She winced. "Sorry, sir, I did it again. Earthstone reference." She nodded, and her eyes were damp. "Of course, sir. I will help you. I'll gladly be the worm on your hook. Jade will come to me. She hates me, sir. How she hates me! I felt her hatred, so strong, so hot . . ." She took a shuddering breath. "But she loves me too. In the airlock, she embraced me. She was coming back to me before . . ."

  Her voice trailed off, and her cheeks flushed.

  Emet nodded. "Before I blasted her out of the airlock. Along with you and me. You understand why I did it, Corporal Emery."

  She took a deep breath. "I do, sir. You wanted to kill her. You were willing to sacrifice my life and hers. But you were wrong, sir. There is still goodness in Jade. Still humanity. The implants in her skull—they crackled and glowed when she was killing. They're controlling her." Her tears fell. "We can remove them. We can save her. Please, sir, promise me that you won't try to kill her again. Promise me that you just want to trap her, to bring her back alive, not to kill her."

  Emet stared into her eyes, face hard. "And if I tell you we will kill her? Will you disobey my orders?"

  Roan gasped. She looked down, clenched her fists, then raised her chin and stared straight into his eyes.

  "Yes."

  Damn the girl, Emet thought. He had not wanted that answer. He had wanted to hear undying loyalty.

  His anger rose. His chest tightened. Rowan refused to look away, and now there was defiance in her eyes. She had her father's eyes.

  Yet the Earthstone still shone around her neck. And she was still here. She was not running.


  Emet felt his anger fade.

  He placed a hand on her shoulder.

  "Good," he said. "Perhaps that's best. Perhaps I don't need blind loyalty from my soldiers. Perhaps I should not ask a soldier to sacrifice somebody they love, even if I would make such a sacrifice. I promise you, Corporal Rowan Emery, I will make every effort to capture Jade alive." He smiled grimly. "I'm not sure I could kill the woman if I tried."

  Rowan did not return the smile. She maintained eye contact, but now sadness filled her eyes.

  "I know you want her alive to interrogate her," Rowan whispered. "Maybe even to torture her. She has information about the enemy. She is a tool for you, as am I. Pawns in your war. Know that I understand these things, Admiral. The fate of humanity itself rests on our shoulders. But know this, sir: Jade can be saved. She can become human again. She can be my sister. We fight to save millions. But I also fight to save her."

  Emet saw himself reflected in her eyes. A large man. Weary and worn. His hair shaggy and graying, no longer the proud golden mane. An aging lion. Perhaps to Rowan a villain.

  Noble heroes cannot save us now, Emet thought. Bitter old lions might still roar.

  "Go back to your chamber, Corporal," he said. "I'll summon you again tomorrow for briefing. Until then, get some sleep. You'll need your strength."

  "Sir." She saluted and left the bridge.

  Emet turned back toward the viewport. He stood in silence, one hand on his pistol, gazing into the darkness.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Ayumi huddled in an attic, hiding, praying.

  Please. Please don't let them find me. I want to live.

  The attic was a place of whispers and shadows. Beams of light fell through cracked walls, sparkling with motes of dust. Holes peppered the wooden floor. A baby bird hid amid the cracked rafters, cheeping, hungry, calling out again and again until Ayumi trembled.

  "Be quiet," she whispered. "Please. Hush."

  Ayumi cowered in the corner. She almost never left the corner, daring not creak the floor. It was dark in the corner. Maybe safe. A heavy rafter hung overhead, shadowing her.

  A few paces away, a hole gaped open in the roof, letting in cold wind and rain. If Ayumi had to, she could flee. She could climb through the hole, emerge onto the roof, yet what was there outside for her? Nothing but a fallen city. A realm of scorpions. Death. Nothing but death.