The Heirs of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 1)

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

"What's going on?" Rowan shouted, clinging to her seat.

Emet was tugging the helm, spinning the Cagayan de Oro around, retreating from the border.

"The scorpions are invading," he said, voice taut. "The Hierarchy is invading the Concord. This is war!"

Hierarchy ships were popping into existence everywhere, emerging from warped space. Battalion after battalion. Thousands of warships. Tens of thousands.

Most were strikers, the triangular starships of the Skra-Shen empire. But there were other Hierarchy ships too: sticky ships formed of white membranes, hosts to nefarious slugs; modified asteroids with engines attached, the vessels of the rocky Meduzian civilization; the organic pods of the Blorins, blobby creatures who wrapped around their victims and digested them alive; and ships from many other worlds. This was a united Hierarchy invasion. This was a new galactic war.

"We have to escape!" Rowan cried.

"Wait," Emet said, staring, heart pounding. "We have to see."

The Hierarchy ships were flying toward Paradise Lost. Toward Akraba. And most importantly, toward Terminus—a wormhole that could lead them deep into Concord territory.

And nobody was resisting them.

Emet frowned. "Why isn't Akraba defending its territory? The marshcrabs should be launching a thousand ships at the enemy."

Yet no marshcrab starships were rising. In fact, the few that had been guarding the border joined the Hierarchy formations.

Emet felt the blood drain from his face.

"The marshcrabs betrayed the Concord," he said. "They bow before the scorpions. Cowards."

"Sir, we have to leave!" Rowan said, trembling. "Look!"

She screamed.

Finally—the marshcrab ships were rising from their planet.

Hundreds of them—bulky iron ships, thrusting forth curving blades like claws. The marshcrabs were not an industrial society, but they were excellent scavengers, slapping together bits of stolen machines into starships of their own. Their fleet used to display the Concord symbol, a galactic spiral. Now their hulls were painted with the Hierarchy sigil—a coiling red stinger.

"We're trapped!" Rowan said.

Emet shoved down the throttle. "We're getting out of here."

He began to soar. But more Hierarchy ships were emerging from deep space. A battalion of enemy dreadnoughts, each the size of a skyscraper, popped into reality above them. Emet cursed, yanked on the helm, and spun around. Marshcrab ships rose below.

"Can't we use warp drive?" Rowan said.

"Not with so much interference around us," Emet said. "Too many enemy ships will disturb our spacetime bubble. Not to mention planet Akraba and Terminus Wormhole so close. Even if we can form a bubble without crushing our hull, we're likely to blast forward and into an enemy warship, destroying ourselves."

"What do we do?" Rowan's voice shook.

"Remain calm, Private," Emet said. "We just need to find a clear swath of space, and we can fly out at warp speed. The Cagayan de Oro is damn fast once she gets going. They won't catch us."

He kept his voice calm. But his insides were pounding.

This is bad, he knew. This is damn bad.

For centuries, the Hierarchy and Concord had respected the border, had split the Milky Way between them. The great Galactic War centuries ago had killed trillions, had destroyed thousands of worlds. Was violence about to flare again?

Emet glided downward, seeking a route between the enemy forces. But another battalion of strikers emerged from warp, blocking his path. He rose, turned, and began flying deeper toward Concord space. But marshcrab vessels rose ahead, blocking him. Everywhere he turned, he saw the enemy forces.

He flew one ship, a small corvette, within the cloud of enemies.

We're a single barracuda in a sea of sharks, he thought.

Rowan pointed. "There." She was clearly struggling to keep her voice steady. "I see a path through."

Emet directed the Cagayan de Oro toward the opening. He began to increase speed. They might just be able to sneak between two brigades of strikers, glide into open space, then blast away at warp speed.

He moved closer. Closer. Faster.

He began to prime the warp engine.

Rowan screamed.

Emet cursed and shoved down the brakes.

Their ship rattled, desperate to slow down.

A massive dreadnought emerged ahead from warped space. It was a striker—a scorpion warship—but so large it dwarfed its brethren. From prow to stern, the dreadnought was probably as long as Paradise Lost, an entire space station.

Emet grunted, flooring the brakes, finally halting only a heartbeat away from the enemy hull. The dreadnought loomed above the corvette, blocking the starlight. A red spiraling stinger, larger than the entire Cagayan de Oro, coiled across the enemy hull. Skra-Shen glyphs were engraved beneath it, burning with real flame, spelling out the ship's name.

"The Venom," Rowan whispered. "That's what the word means in human." She glanced at Emet. "I once found a scorpion dictionary. You have a lot of free time when you live in ducts."

"And she's hailing us," Emet said.

He looked around him. Every path was blocked. Thousands of warships surrounded them. Even if Emet tried to navigate between them, they could easily block his passage—or destroy him in a volley of plasma.

He accepted the Venom's call.

His monitor crackled to life, displaying an image from inside the scorpion dreadnought.

"You," Emet said, glowering.

Jade sat there upon a throne draped with human skins. Scorpions clattered all around her. Last time Emet had seen her, long blue hair had grown from her head. She had only stubble on her head now, and burns marred her alabaster skin.

"Hello again, old friend!" Jade said. "I knew we would meet again. I promised that I would come kill you." She licked her lips. "Who is that beside you, that wretched little pest? Your daughter?" She laughed. "I will skin her first so you can hear her scream."

Rowan stared, eyes wide. The girl rose from her seat, walked toward the monitor, and placed her hand against it. She tilted her head.

"I know you," Rowan whispered, frowning. "I don't know how. I don't know from where. But . . . I know you."

Jade laughed. "You know your death then! I am the huntress. I am the queen of pain. I am your nemesis. Come now, humans. Come scream for me!"

Jade grabbed a lever and tugged it.

A tractor beam blasted out from the Venom. It grabbed the Cagayan de Oro with a shimmering blue fist.

Emet pushed the thruster engines to full power, trying to reverse. The ship rattled, shaking madly. The tractor beam kept pulling them forward. Emet diverted power from all other systems, reversing at full thrust. The engines belched out smoke. But still the tractor beam was pulling them in.

A hatch opened on the enemy ship.

Rowan drew her pistol, but Emet knew it could not save them.

He fired the Cagayan de Oro's cannons. Shell after shell flew, slamming into the Venom. But he could not penetrate the dreadnought's thick shields. He fired again, launching torpedoes, and explosions rocked the Venom, but its shields stood.

A bolt flew from the enemy ship.

It slammed into the Cagayan de Oro, shattering its front cannons.

The corvette jolted. Monitors cracked. Smoke filled the bridge. Rowan screamed.

Emet shoved down the throttle, attempting to charge forward, then soar, but the tractor beam held them in place. His engines roared. Fire blasted from the exhaust. The Cagayan de Oro was overheating. The engines would soon blow.

The dreadnought kept pulling them.

On the monitor, Jade was laughing, tugging on her lever, reeling them in.

They were only meters away from the Venom's hatch now.

Emet drew his own pistol.

"Rowan," he said softly.

"Sir?" Her voice shook.

"I cannot let them take us alive, Rowan." He looked at her. "I'm sorry."

She stared back at him with huge eyes. A tear rolled down her cheek.

She pointed her own pistol at her temple.

"I understand," she whispered. Then she let out a sob. "I wish I could have seen Earth. I wish I could have seen my sister again. I—"

Rowan gasped.

She turned toward the monitor.

She peered at the image of Jade, who was still operating the beam.

"Jade?" Rowan whispered. "Is that you? Jade Emery?"

Jade stared back, and her smirk vanished.

"Who . . .?" Jade began.

Her hand slipped from the lever.

The tractor beam loosened its grip.

Emet gunned it.

Within a second, he diverted all power—even life support—to the engines and charged forward.

They roared toward the Venom, then soared, breaking free from the tractor beam.

As he rose higher, he launched a torpedo from his stern. The missile flew to the Venom's open hatch.

As they soared, the explosion flared below.

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."