The Heirs of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 1)

CHAPTER SEVEN

"Hey, pest!" The deep voice rumbled ahead. "We don't welcome pests here. Begone."

Bay sighed.

A marshcrab was clattering toward him.

Bay hated marshcrabs. Hated them.

The creatures were common here at Paradise Lost. The space station was near Akraba, after all, homeworld of the beasts. The marshcrab towered before him, seven or eight feet tall. All that height was just the legs. There were eight of those legs, long and thin like stilts, coated with a red shell. The marshcrab's body was no larger than a human torso, perched above the legs like a tabletop. Mandibles framed the marshcrab's mouth, evolved to shatter the bones of corpses and suck up the rotting juices. His eyes moved on stalks, black and cunning. Those eyes tilted down to stare at Bay.

"Yo, man, I don't want any trouble." Bay raised his hands. "I'm just here to spend a shit-ton of scryls, ya know? Good for the place. You work here?"

The marshcrab rattled closer, claws tapping, joints creaking. Ra above, did the alien stink—a stench like rotten fish on a tarry beach. Bay struggled not to cover his nose, not wanting to further enrage the alien. The marshcrab leaned down. Barbels grew above his mouth like a mustache—sensory organs. The tendrils thrust forward, then recoiled.

"You pests stink," the marshcrab said.

Bay doubted a bloodhound could smell a pile or rotten eggs anywhere near a marshcrab, but he didn't argue.

"Hey, man, I got scryls here, fifteen thousand, yo." Bay reached into his pack and pulled out a few crystal skulls. "What's the cost of entry? You got a cover price, right?"

The marshcrab narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to bribe me?" He straightened, joints creaking, perhaps unaccustomed to the dry air of the space station. The creatures did come from a wet, swampy planet, after all. "I am Belowgen, Chief Administrator of Paradise Lost, and I will not allow this place to fall to corruption."

Bay grabbed an entire fistful of scryls this time, more than he usually liked for a bribe, but Brooklyn needed a new wing, and there was no other place within parsecs.

Sure, keep telling yourself it's about Brook. Bay glanced up at the neon signs promising untold sins. Not about yourself. Not about Seohyun.

"Cover charge and stay out of my way." Bay shoved the tiny skulls at the marshcrab. "I'll stay out of yours."

The giant crab huffed, snorted, but then snatched the money. Bay walked past him and into the station.

Someday I'll be rich, Seohyun, a boy had said long ago.

Seohyun had kissed him. I don't need you to be rich, silly. Just to be here with me. To lie like this forever on the grass, finding shapes in the clouds.

He walked by many establishments: exotic massage parlors where seductive aliens, perfumed and naked, worked with many hands; fighting pits where crowds roared, betting on tiny gladiators who held cutlery as weapons; casinos where dead-eyed old aliens, some rotting away, played slot machines that sucked your blood as payment; and opium dens where patrons sprawled on the floor, drooling and inhaling purple smoke. Here were hives of inequity and despair. Hives of forgetting.

Bay had to save his money. He knew that. To buy Brooklyn her new wing. To save for his new hand, a costly prosthetic that could interface with his nerves. To find a grassy world again, a world of sunshine and growing things.

But Seohyun wouldn't be there.

Bay approached a bar, a shadowy joint between a pet shop and an adult movie theater. Neon letters shone, dubbing the place Drunken Truckers. Above the letters appeared two neon starships, smashing into each other again and again, complete with animated flames. Bay was no trucker, but their bars tended to offer cheap grog. He stepped inside.

It was a dark, dusty place, the floor littered with smashed bottles and cigarette butts. A monitor in the corner showed a robot boxing match. A slug slumped at the bar, nursing a pint of khlur—an alien brew of fermented stomach acids. A furry creature with eight legs hung from the ceiling, spinning a small animal in his claws, nibbling on the meal. A green humanoid danced topless in a cage. She flickered out of reality. A burly alien thumped a projector, and the green stripper reappeared in all her holographic sleaze.

Bay slammed a few scryls onto the bar. The crystal skulls jangled.

"Yo, any bartender here?" Bay said, craning his neck over the bar.

The coat hanger moved toward him. At least, Bay had mistook it for a coat hanger at first. Damn giant stick insects.

"We don't serve humans here," the woody alien said.

"This human tips well." Bay nudged the scryls across the counter. "Grog. The strongest you got. And none of that khlur crap. Hit me."

The stick insect filled a dirty mug. Bay grogged. It tasted like gasoline and sweat, but it reeked of alcohol, so it would do.

Old words surfaced in his memory.

One day we'll own a farmstead of our own, Seohyun. One day I'll buy you the sky.

She nestled against him. I don't care about the sky. I'm a girl of the earth.

Bay slammed down his empty mug. "Another!"

He grogged the second mug. The grog didn't taste as horrible this time. The room began to spin, but the pain in his bad hand was fading, the twisted muscles loosening.

Bay! She ran through the flames. Bay, it hurts.

"Hit me." Bay slammed down more scryls. They clattered across the bar.

His father glared. We are leaving, and you are coming with us, and that is that.

She died because of you!

He wept—a boy of fourteen. He ran across the hangar. He stole the shuttle. He grogged a fourth cup.

By the fifth cup, Bay couldn't see straight. He stumbled into the washroom and pissed an ocean. As he stepped by the holographic stripper, she gave him a kiss.

"Scryls for a dance, honey?" the hologram said.

Bay ignored her. He didn't want no damn hologram. He wanted . . .

I'm a girl of the earth. I want the sky always above me.

He staggered out of the bar. He swayed down the corridor, passing by the pet shop where reptiles, birds, and insects gurgled and cawed in cages. A few aliens bumped into Bay. They grumbled. One shoved him.

"Mucking pest!" A living plant walked by him, shedding leaves.

A liquid alien rolled by inside a mobile aquarium. "Who let a pest aboard?"

A man-sized snail slithered on the wall. "First pests in the washroom vents, now this!"

Bay ignored them all. He was used to stares, shoves, insults. He was human. To these aliens, it was like seeing a cockroach.

Once we were masters of a planet. The thought emerged through the groggy haze. Once we had fleets, power, respect. My father believes we can have that again. That we can find Earth, that we can—

But Seohyun had died.

And Bay wanted nothing of that war. That dream was dead. Dead like everything else Bay had ever had.

He found his way to a virtual reality chamber, the kind you hoped they steam cleaned after each use. He paid with a fistful of scryls, spilling them, and the tiny skulls clattered across the floor. He barely remembered making his way into a VR chamber, but soon he was lying on a mattress that reeked of disinfectants. The walls were bare except for some graffiti. Somebody had drawn rude spirals tipped with circles. Alien dicks always reminded Bay of springs.

He picked up the sensors from the floor, wiped them off, and strapped them on. He pulled on his 3D glasses.

"Yo, um, interface?" he said. "Activate."

A hologram appeared before him, featuring the interface. Bay reached out with his good hand. The left hand was curled up against his chest, throbbing and useless. He had paid for only one vemale tonight. Two chicks at the same time cost a pretty penny.

The interface offered him many species, everything from slimy slugs to living plants. Bay scrolled until he found the option for human. He then scrolled through possible bodies, ranging from petite to cartoonishly curvy. Bay chose his woman a body—short and slender. From the next menu, he picked long black hair, almond-shaped eyes, and a kind smile. With each selection, his hologram took shape.

I'm a girl of the earth.

And she materialized before him. Seohyun—risen again. Smiling sweetly. She nestled against him, and with his sensors, he could actually feel her.

"Hey, handsome," she cooed. "Can I suck your—"

"Hush," Bay whispered. His eyes watered. It was too painful to hear her speak like this. It was too painful to shatter the illusion.

"Just hold me," he whispered. "Hold me and sleep."

The virtual girl closed her eyes, smiling softly. She curled up in his arms, warm and soft. The illusion was complete—her breath against him, her hair flowing between his fingers. And Bay wept.

A small, choked sound sounded above him.

He frowned and looked at the ceiling.

There was an air conditioning vent directly above. And a face was peering through it.

Bay gasped. He made eye contact.

She was a teenage girl. She had short, messy brown hair and large brown eyes. The girl gasped, covered her mouth, and her face vanished. Bay heard her crawling through the duct above, fleeing.

That had been no virtual girl.

A human.

She was human.

It had been years since Bay had met another human.

"Yo, wait up!" Bay said, rising to his feet. "Girl!"

He yanked off the VR sensors, and the virtual Seohyun vanished. Bay leaped toward the ceiling, tried to grab the vent, but couldn't reach. He cursed his modest height, wishing he were as tall as his father.

"Yo, girl!" he cried.

Fists pounded on the wall, coming from the room next door. A deep voice grumbled. "Keep it down in there! I'm trying to fertilize some holographic eggs in here."

Bay sat down, head reeling. A girl in the ducts. A human. Another human. Around her neck—a crystal amulet. She was so familiar. Bay knew her face. He had seen her before, seen that jewel . . .

His head spun. Too much grog filled him, too much pain. He fell back onto the mattress. His eyes rolled back, and Bay slept. He dreamed of rolling grasslands and spreading fire.