The Heirs of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 1)

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

The Heirs of Earth flew for long days. Finally, Emet led them to a snowy planet orbiting a small cold star, a world far from civilization.

Yet not a world far from war, Emet knew. Not a safe world. A new Galactic War has begun. Soon there will be no safe world in the galaxy.

He stood on the bridge of the Jerusalem, this battered tanker, this old warship. This place where he had lost so many friends. He gazed down at the frozen world. A sanctuary. A world far from home.

They had only a handful of starships. Most could not fly in atmosphere, and they remained in orbit. The survivors descended to the surface in shuttles. Three hundred Inheritors had flown to battle the scorpions. Half never made it back. Emet led the survivors through the snow. Flurries billowed their blue coats and stung their faces. Many were wounded. They carried some of the wounded on stretchers. The sky was dim, even at noon. The sun was small and blue and cold.

Finally they reached the caves in the mountainside. They climbed inside to find the rest of their people. Over a thousand humans sat inside, wrapped in blankets. A few engines, taken from shuttles and mounted on metal frames, provided heat.

These people escaped the horrors of the gulocks, Emet thought. They deserve better than a frozen cave. Yet they are far more fortunate than the millions who still cry out. Who still die in agony. Whom I still must save.

The people gathered around him. They whispered prayers. Some reached out to touch him, to thank him.

"Bless you, Emet Ben-Ari," said an old woman.

"Bless you, lion of Earth!" said an old man.

"Blessed be the heir of Queen Einav, the Golden Lioness," said a young woman, eyes shining. "Blessed be the prophet who will lead us home."

Emet looked at them all. Ragged, hungry survivors. They believed in him. They saw him as a hero.

But I'm no hero, he thought.

He noticed that Rowan kept her distance. That she sometimes glanced at him with fear. Even with hatred.

I had to do it, Rowan, Emet thought. To open the airlock. To blast Jade out. Even if it meant sacrificing my life—and yours. She is more dangerous than you know. She has killed millions. And she will kill again.

He tried to meet Rowan's eyes, but she looked away. Emet knew that it would be a long while before Rowan forgave him. Maybe she never would.

Emet looked over the crowd in the icy cave. Bay stood nearby, wearing his old hood and baggy sweatshirt whose sleeves hid his hands. Rowan stood by him, wearing her uniform, still carrying Lullaby, her pistol. Leona stood there too, wearing her blue blazer with the brass buttons, and her mane of brown curls flowed across her shoulders. There was a new strength in her eyes, but a new peace too. Hundreds of warriors and a thousand survivors stood farther back. All of them were the Heirs of Earth.

Emet spoke to them.

"Today we mourn our fallen. Today we grieve for the loved ones we lost. Let us stand in silence. Let us remember our martyrs."

They stood in silence, heads lowered. Emet thought of Duncan, his dear friend. Of all the warriors he had led to battle. Of all those he had failed to save.

He raised his head and spoke again.

"A war for the fate of the galaxy has begun. And we lost our first battle. The blood of our fallen still haunts us. The cries of those still trapped in the gulocks echoes in our ears. Today it's hard to find hope, to find light in the darkness. But there is hope! Along with our grief, there is new light!"

"What hope is there now!" cried a wounded warrior, his left arm gone. "My wife—she's gone. My children—burned in the fire. The Hierarchy spreads everywhere. What hope is there for humanity?"

Voices muttered in agreement. Across the cave, many were afraid, whispering of death.

Emet pulled a minicom from his pocket. He hit a button, and a hologram emerged and floated before him, ten feet tall. It displayed a starmap.

"Here is hope!" Emet said. "Here is a gift from the Aelonians. We lost the Battle of Terminus. But the Heirs of Earth showed great courage and sacrifice. Leona led the Corvette Company, breaking a way through the enemy lines. Every human warrior showed the courage of ten Aelonians. We proved to the aliens that humans are no pests, but that we are brave, we are strong, we are a blessing to the galaxy! In gratitude, Admiral Melitar of the Aelonians gave us this map."

The people gathered closer, peering at the hologram of a million stars.

"What does it show?" asked a man.

"This," Emet said, "is a map to Earth."

The people gasped. Voices cried out in the crowd.

"But Earth is lost!" shouted a woman.

"Nobody's known Earth's location for years!"

"Earth is just a myth!"

Emet raised his hands, hushing them. "Maybe you're right! Maybe Earth is a myth. Maybe this map is false hope, leading to nothing but a barren world, not our homeworld. But I believe! I have hope. For the first time in centuries, we have a sign of Earth. We have coordinates. We know where to go."

He hit a button on his minicom. The hologram changed, the image zooming in on one constellation. Then on one star. Then zooming in still, finally focusing on one planet. A blue world. A pale marble, orbiting in the darkness.

Earth.

"Earth!" the people cried. "It's Earth! Our home!"

Tears flowed. They prayed. They sang old songs. A few refugees scoffed, insisted this was forgery, but soon their voices fell silent, and perhaps they too believed.

"Earth still lies very far away," Emet finally said. "It lies on the other side of the Concord, past much danger and hardship. A cruel alien empire, one that rose after our banishment, now rules this sector. They are a warlike race, strong and eager to fight. They swear only loose fealty to the Concord, and have spoken of joining the Hierarchy. We will have to fight for Earth. The battle will be long and hard. But we will fight! We will go home!"

As the crowd cheered, one Inheritor stepped forward.

Rowan.

Her fists were clenched, and she glared up at Emet.

"How can we abandon our people!" she said. "Millions of humans might still be alive in Hierarchy space. Millions might still be scattered across Concord worlds. They need us! How can we fly across the galaxy when our people cry out to us? How can we abandon our oaths?"

Voices muttered agreements.

"We will not abandon our oaths!" said Emet, raising his voice. "Every Inheritor makes a sacred vow. Wherever a human is in danger, we will be there. We face two wars! One war to reach Earth, to reclaim our home, even if we must win Earth with blood. A second war to stop the Hierarchy, to save all humans in exile from the scorpion claws. We will fight both wars! We will split our forces. One team of brave explorers will travel to Earth, though the journey will take many months, maybe even a year. They will fight to establish a colony on our sacred ancestral ground. The rest of our fleet will remain in exile, fighting the Hierarchy, saving every human we can. It will take blood and sacrifice. It will take years. Maybe decades. Maybe even generations. But I vow this: We will bring every human home to Earth!"

"To Earth!" they cried. "To Earth!"

Emet looked at Rowan. She looked away.

Yes, it will be a while before you forgive me, Rowan, he thought. Before you understand.

One of the warriors stepped closer. A young woman with long platinum hair, dark skin, and white tattoos. A weaver—a priestess of the mystical light of the cosmos.

Her name is Coral, Emet remembered.

"But sir," Coral said, "do we have enough starships? Enough warriors? Can we truly split up? We lost so many . . ." The weaver hung her head low. "So many gone."

Mumbles passed through the crowd.

The weaver was speaking sense, Emet knew. The Heirs of Earth had suffered heavy losses. They had not been this small in years. They had only a handful of starships, a handful of warriors left. Yet what choice did Emet have?

"You fight with the army you have," Emet said. "And we will fight on. We—"

Engines.

Engines rumbled outside.

People cried out in fear.

"The scorpions!"

"The enemy is here!"

"They found us!"

Emet frowned. Had the scorpions already made it so far into Concord space?

He stepped out of the cave, rifle in his hands. Rowan and Leona followed, pistols drawn. They stared into the snowy sky. Several shuttles were descending through the flurries. Unable to land on the mountainside, they touched down in the valley.

Emet furrowed his brow. He looked at the others.

Those weren't scorpion ships.

The Inheritors began racing down the mountainside.

In the valley, they saw the shuttles humming on the ground, melting the snow. Several more shuttles were already descending. Emet could not determine their origin. They were clearly alien shuttles, but heavily modified, cobbled together from various components.

A hatch opened on one shuttle, and a man emerged.

A human.

He had a shaggy brown beard, wore an overcoat that was even shaggier, and an alien-looking rifle hung across his back. A woman and children peered from the shuttle behind him. The man trudged through the snow and flurries, finally coming to stand before Emet.

"Emet Ben-Ari?" the man said, having to shout over the wind. A toothy grin split his face. "Lovely planet you chose! Can't wait to see the beaches." He reached out his hand to shake. "Name's Jon. Jon Harris. I lead a small community of two hundred humans. We heard about your exploits on the border. Impressive! You got balls, Emet Ben-Ari. We've got some muscle ourselves, some good warriors, some bullets, even a clunky old mothership in orbit with some half-decent cannons on her. We've come to help! If you'll have us, that is."

Emet looked at the other shuttles. More people were emerging. Children. Elders. But also young men and women of fighting age. With weapons. With determination in their eyes.

Humans.

Children of Earth.

Emet had to tighten his lips, worried that after all this bloodshed, this agony, this fear, he would finally break down in tears.

He clasped Jon's outreached hand in both his own, then said to hell with it—and embraced the man.

"You are most welcome here, Jon Harris."

A day later, another human community arrived. There were a hundred of them, exiles who had been hiding on a distant moon. They too had a starship, an alien vessel outfitted with shields and weapons. They too vowed to fight.

On the third day, no fewer than four starships arrived, each from a different human community. Some had been hiding on an asteroid, working in deep mines. Others had survived beneath an alien city, living in the sewers. A handful of humans, like Rowan, had spent their exile surviving in space stations like mice. One starship even carried survivors from Hierarchy territory; the Rawdiggers had smuggled them out in exchange for diamonds.

They all brought the same message.

"We heard of Leona Ben-Ari, the descendant of Einav, freeing the survivors of the gulock. We heard of the Corvette Company leading the charge against the strikers. We heard of the Old Lion ejecting the Blue Witch from his airlock. We heard of the Heirs of Earth and their courage. We will join you. We will fight. We will see Earth again."

For days, they kept arriving from across the galaxy. Starship after starship. More survivors from across space. More humans. For the first time in thousands of years, these dispersed, exiled people, hunted like vermin and living in shadows, joined together.

Within weeks, the Heirs of Earth swelled to their largest size ever. Forty-two warships flew for Earth, ranging from massive freighters to humble corvettes. Cargo ships, shuttles, and starfighters completed their fleet. Three thousand humans gathered here at this snowy world so far from home. Warriors. Survivors. All were the Heirs of Earth.

* * * * *

On a cold morning, Leona stood in the snowy valley, her cloak wrapped around her, as the Heirs of Earth burned their dead.

Many of their fallen were lost to space. But many bodies had been recovered from the war, kept frozen aboard their ships. And now they burned. The fires dotted the valley, an individual fire for every fallen hero. They had anointed the dead with fuel, and they burned bright and fast and hot.

Emet was speaking of the fallen heroes. A few priests and monks were praying. Leona did not listen. She stood apart from the others. The snowy wind fluttered her cloak, billowed her curly hair, and stung her face. It smelled of ashes. Sparks rose like fields of stars.

A clear, high song rose, startling her. Leona looked up to see that Coral Amber stood on an icy outcrop, her white hair streaming. She sang an old song in the language of Til Shiran, her desert world, but Leona knew it was a song of mourning.

Bay approached, trudging through the snow. Her brother gave her a sad smile.

"Are you ready, Leona?"

"No," Leona whispered. "I'm not. But I'll do this nonetheless."

She stepped slowly toward a fire. The heat bathed her, searing her tears dry, and sparks flew onto her uniform. Leona reached into her pack and pulled out her husband's skull. She caressed it.

"Goodbye, Jake," she whispered.

She knelt and placed the skull in the fire, then added another log. She stepped back, watching as the fire roared.

Bay pulled her into his arms. Leona leaned against her brother as the fires burned.

"I love you, Bay," she said. "I'm glad you're back."

"I'm glad to be back," he whispered, voice choked.

They had no urns. They used the empty cartridges of artillery shells. They placed the ashes of their fallen into these canisters, and marked them, and sealed them. They would take the ashes along the dark road. Someday they would scatter them on Earth.

"I will scatter Jake's ashes in the Atlantic ocean." Leona smiled shakily at Bay. "Someday, I'll sail those waters. We always dreamed of sailing there together."

Rowan walked toward them. The girl had snow in her short hair, and her eyes were sad and sparkling.

"I love to sail forbidden seas," Rowan said softly.

Leona raised her eyebrows. "Have I told you that I have that line tattooed on my arm?"

Rowan's eyes widened. "You do? It's from Moby Dick, you know. One of my favorite novels."

Leona gaped at the girl for a second, then laughed. She pulled Rowan into her arms, and Bay joined the embrace. Then they walked up the mountainside, away from the cold, and into the warm shadows of their cave.

* * * * *

The next day, Emet took a shuttle back to the ISS Jerusalem, which was orbiting the frozen planet. The new communities had brought mechanics. They had patched up the Jerusalem. They had replaced the cracked shields, resealed the breaches, and painted the hull deep silver. The starboard and port displayed the symbol of the Heirs of Earth—golden wings growing from a blue sphere.

The Jerusalem was an old ship, even older than Emet's fifty-five years. She looked new.

He entered through the back airlock. The hold had always been an empty chasm, the place where the Jerusalem had carried liquids during her days as a tanker. Over the past few weeks, his people had been working here, building with wood taken from the planet below. Now a hundred and fifty cabins lined a central corridor. Each cabin contained wooden cots and fur blankets, room enough for a family. Carpenters were already setting down the foundations of a mess hall and lounge.

The Jerusalem was still a warship. She would still fight in battles. But she could also provide a temporary dwelling for refugees returning home.

Leona stepped into the hold beside him. She nodded, admiring the work. "Looks cozy."

"A thousand of our people survived the horrors of the gulocks," Emet said. "We cannot heal their scars. But we can make them comfortable. We can give them some semblance of normal life. Until they can lie on the grass of Earth and gaze upon blue skies."

Leona turned toward him. "Do you think it's possible, Dad? Even if we find our way home. If we find that green grass and blue skies. Can we ever forget? Ever heal?"

He knew Leona was not just talking about the gulock survivors.

He pulled his daughter into his arms. "Maybe not. Some scars don't heal. Some memories forever haunt us. We fight, we bleed, we suffer so that others may live in light. I don't know if I'll live to walk on Earth, or if I'll die in the darkness of space, fighting for a world I'll never see. But someday new babies will be born on Earth. Someday children will play on grass and gaze upon our sky. We cannot undo the pain. We cannot forget the horror. We cannot avenge the millions who fell. But we can fight for those who come after us. For eighty generations, we hid in darkness. May the next generation be the first born on Earth."

She slung an arm around him. They stepped onto the bridge. They gazed out upon the rest of their fleet.

"The journey will be long," Leona said. "But it's time to begin."

Emet nodded. "It's time to go home."