The Heirs of Earth (Children of Earthrise Book 1)

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Rowan sat in the mountain cave, wrapped in a fur cloak. Only a handful of other survivors were still down here. Almost everyone was up with the fleet now, prepared to fly away from the frozen planet. Some would fly out to seek more human communities. Others would return to battle the Hierarchy. A handful of intrepid humans would seek Earth. All three were noble pursuits.

But right now, Rowan just sat in the cave. An emptiness filled her, and the weight of the mountain seemed to press down upon her.

She pulled her old photograph from her pocket. The one from another cave on a distant world. She smoothed the wrinkly plastic casing. A photo of herself as a toddler. With her family. With Jade.

Rowan gazed at her sister for a long time. A seven-year-old girl with blond hair. With kind eyes.

Finally Rowan placed her photo back in her pocket, and she pulled out her old companion. When closed, Fillister looked like a humble pocket watch, cold and smooth in her hand. Her father had given her the robot fourteen years ago. A toy. A gadget. But Fillister had become so much more.

She removed the chain, clicked a button, and his wings and head sprouted out. The robotic dragonfly yawned and hovered before her, wings buzzing.

"Mornin', squire! Is it time to leave?" He shivered. "Blimey, it's cold on this world." The tiny robot frowned. "You all right, Row?"

She spoke softly. "Fill, am I a bad person?"

"What's that now?" Fillister buzzed from side to side, agitated. "You're bloody brilliant, you are. You know that."

"Fill, I . . . I saw my sister. Up there. In the battle. I saw Jade."

Fillister froze. His wings stopped flapping and he clanked onto the floor. He looked up at her.

"You . . . saw Jade? Our Jade?"

"I tried to save her," Rowan whispered. Her voice cracked. "I tried, Fill. I tried so hard, but the scorpions still have her. They did something to her. Changed her. Hacked into her brain using those implants. All those evil things she did? The scorpions made her do them. My sister is not to blame, not evil. I know this. And I'm scared I'll never get her back. That I didn't love her enough. That she doesn't love me, or . . ."

"Now, now." Fillister flew up and nuzzled her. "You love Jade very much. I know that. She will too someday. Chin up! I promise you, Row, if there's a way to get her back, we'll do it." He nodded emphatically. "We ain't giving up on the girl yet. She's family, after all."

Rowan hugged the dragonfly to her chest, careful not to bend his wings.

"Fill, do you remember all those nights in the ducts? Nights reading books. Writing our Dinosaur Island movie scripts. Watching fantasy movies. Listening to music. Dreaming. Hiding. Fleeing exterminators. Sneaking down to steal food and water. Being so scared all the time."

"It was a hard life," Fillister said. "But we had each other."

"We used to dream of seeing the stars. We'd climb to the top of Paradise Lost, gaze through the tiny porthole, see one star, maybe two, three on a good night. We'd dream of flying among those stars. Meeting other people." She lowered her head, tears falling. "I never thought it would be like this. So painful."

"Chin up!" Gently, Fillister nudged her head back up and hovered before her eyes. "We'll get through this, Row. We'll beat them scorpions, same as we beat them exterminators. There's still beauty out there. Among the stars. There are still wonders to behold. Not all is darkness and pain." He turned toward the mouth of the cave, and they gazed out at the stars. "See there? See those lights? That's hope. Up there, among the stars, a human fleet awaits us. Humans, Row! Real humans. Real friends. Your people. Might be they even got a cute robot or two." He waggled his tiny metal eyebrows. "I've had me eyes on that Brooklyn bird!"

Rowan couldn't help but laugh. "She thought you're an ant."

"Ah, she's only playing hard to get, she is! Wait till she sees me put on the old Fillister charm." The robot tugged at Rowan's sleeve. "Now come on, Row. Let's get up there. Fly among the stars, alright?"

She nodded, rose to her feet, and patted her pistol. Lullaby was heavy and comforting on her hip.

"Let's go up there," she said. "Let's fight. Let's love. Let's see some wonders." She grinned. "And let's watch some movies."

* * * * *

"Rowan, I'm sorry."

Bay knelt by the bedside. Rowan was lying there, watching The Princess Bride, one of her favorite movies.

"Shh!" she said. "It's the big sword fight scene."

Bay rolled his eyes. "Rowan! You've seen this movie a million times."

"Fine, fine." She paused it and propped herself up on her elbow. "What are you sorry for?"

They were inside Brooklyn. The rest of the fleet was hovering around them. They were still orbiting the frozen planet, but shuttles had been ferrying up the last survivors from the caves. Soon thousands of humans would be aboard the fleet, and they would be ready to fly out.

Bay lowered his head. "When you joined the Heirs of Earth, when you spoke your vows, I wasn't there."

Rowan nodded. She spoke in a small voice. "I know. I wanted you there."

"I'm sorry I didn't attend. It was . . . hard for me. To hear vows spoken. I hated the Heirs of Earth, wanted nothing to do with the organization. And . . ." The words seemed to pain him. "I hated that you joined. Because it meant you would fly away from me."

Rowan glanced at the mirror on the wall. She still wore her uniform. Her brown hair was still short and messy. Her feet were bare.

"And you said I look like a hobbit," she said.

"You do!" Bay smiled, the weight seeming to lift from his shoulders. "So, my little Frodo. Today aboard the Jerusalem, I'm saying my own vows. I'm joining you. And, dear lady, I would be honored if you attended."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, so now I'm a lady!"

He nodded and took her hand in his. "My fairest lady of the Shire."

She rolled her eyes. She pointed at some of his artwork that hung on the walls. "Oh, I've seen your ladies. I might need a pair of melons shoved down my shirt."

Bay actually blushed. "Those are warrior princesses, Rowan."

"And what am I, chopped liver?"

He groaned. "Just come hear my vows, all right? I want you there."

Rowan smiled and hugged him. "I wouldn't miss it for the world. Well, definitely not for this frozen world we're orbiting. Maybe I'd miss it for Earth. Or Middle Earth." She mussed his hair and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you're joining us, Bay Ben-Ari."

"Now turn around so I can change. I gotta get into my new uniform."

Her eyes widened. "I want to watch you get undressed!"

"Fine," Bay said. "So I get to watch you next you—"

"Turning around!" She faced the wall.

Bay got dressed in clothes his father had given him. Brown trousers. A white collared shirt. A long blue coat with silver buttons. A tawny cowboy hat. He slung a rifle across his back, its bolt bristly with brass gears, its stock carved from real wood. He looked at himself in the mirror. His dark blond hair and beard were cropped short. The sleeves on the coat were the right length; his bad hand was exposed. It hung at his side, curled inward, stiff and useless. But lately Rowan had been smiling freely, revealing her crooked teeth without shame. Maybe Bay needed to be a little less shy too.

"You can turn around now," he said.

Rowan faced him. "You look . . ." She blushed. "You look very handsome. Like a prince."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure that'll help me when fighting the scorpions. Why look like a fierce warrior? It's Prince Charming that'll intimidate them!"

"Oh, I never said you were charming." Rowan mussed his hair. "More like Prince Grumpypants."

Brooklyn's voice rose from the cockpit. "I can hear you two flirting, you know!"

"We're not flirting!" they both said together.

"Sure," Brooklyn said. "And I'm not a talking starship who almost certainly has ants in her engines. Are you meat-bags ready to fly over to the Jerusalem already? I'm rusting here!"

Rowan looked at Bay.

He nodded. "We're ready."

Brooklyn took them to the flagship, and they climbed aboard. Emet was already waiting in the new conference room. Leona and a few other Inheritors were there too. Bay was nervous. For a decade now, he had slunk in shadows, shying away from a crowd. But he squared his shoulders, approached them, and stood in the open light.

"Bay Ben-Ari!" his father said. "My son. Are you ready to take your vows, to join the Heirs of Earth?"

Bay was silent for a moment. He thought of his life on the grassy world of Vaelia. He thought of losing Seohyun. He thought of the long decade, lost in the shadow, grogging and drugging and whoring and forgetting who he was. Forgetting his humanity.

There is a new life for me, he thought. With the Heirs of Earth. With my family. With Rowan.

He looked at her. Rowan stood beside him, smiling warmly. She patted his arm.

Bay looked back at his father. "I'm ready."

Emet nodded. "Then hold the Earthstone in your hand, Bay. And speak your vows."

Bay took the crystal from Rowan, this ancient artifact that contained Earth's cultural heritage. And he spoke with a clear voice, his chin raised—the vow thousands had spoken before him, that thousands would still speak.

"Earth calls me home. I vow to forever heed her call. I vow to cherish Earth, to sing her songs, to preserve her heritage. I believe, with all my heart, that Earth is the homeworld of humanity, and that someday I will see Earth again. All of Earth's children are my brothers and sisters. They are lost, but I will guide them home. Wherever a human is in danger, I will be there. I am Earth's child. I am ready to fight, even sacrifice my life, for my homeworld. Someday Earth's lost children will return home. I will not rest until that day."

Emet smiled and saluted, wrapping his right palm around his left fist. "Welcome to the Heirs of Earth, Bay. I'm proud of you."

Bay returned the salute. He hesitated, looking at Emet, the man they called the Old Lion. The leader of the Heirs of Earth. The man who promised to return humanity home. The living legend. A father.

Then Bay stepped forward and embraced him. Emet seemed almost surprised—the gruff old soldier rarely displayed emotion. But then he returned the embrace, his arms wide and warm.

"Bay," he said. "I wanted to tell you something. I wanted to wait until you took your vow. I know that you've always wanted a new hand. A robotic prosthetic."

Bay froze. He pulled away, his heart twisting. He didn't like talking about his deformed left hand.

"Yeah," he only said, voice hoarse.

"And I know I always told you no," Emet said, "that we couldn't afford it, that we needed the money for weapons, for food, for water. Well, I think you've earned that money. I'd like to buy you that prosthetic you've always wanted. The doctors will have to remove your left hand, but the new one will look and feel realistic. It'll be even stronger than your right hand."

Bay looked at his bad hand. Growing up, it had defined him, shamed him. He had become good at hiding it—behind his back, in his pocket, under a long sleeve. He had always felt broken, incomplete. For years, he had dreamed of replacing it. To have two working hands! To be like everyone else!

He looked back at his father.

"Thanks, Dad, but I'll pass for now," Bay said. "Many of our people lost limbs. Some lost eyes, ears, faces. They need prosthetics more than I do. Spend the money on them." He raised his bad hand and wrapped his good hand around it. "Hey, I can still give the Inheritor salute, right?"

This time it was Emet who pulled him into an embrace. He held his son tightly, nearly crushing him.

"I love you, son," Emet said, voice choked.

"Love you too, Dad."

He returned to Brooklyn. He didn't have a new hand. But he had never felt more whole.

* * * * *

"Bay! Bay, help me, damn it!" Rowan stumbled down the Jerusalem's corridor, swaying under the weight. "Bay, get your butt over here!"

The telescope she carried was five feet long—longer than her. It probably weighed as much too. Bay rushed toward her down the corridor, and he grabbed one end.

"What the hell is this thing?" Bay said. "A planet-destroying cannon?"

"A telescope." Rowan grinned. "An ultra-powerful, super-strong intergalactic telescope! It dices, it slices! As seen on TV! Amaze your friends!"

"I'm certainly amazed at how heavy it is," Bay said, wilting under the weight.

"One of the new humans—you know Greg, the guy with the red beard?—he brought it with his community. It's alien, Bay. And it can gaze super far."

"Greg must be a serious Peeping Tom," Bay said.

"Ha ha, very funny." Rowan shuffled toward the airlock, carrying her end of the telescope. "Greg said I can borrow it. I want to test it out. It comes with a stand, and we can mount it on Brooklyn's roof."

Bay nodded. "Good. Let her carry it!"

"It won't weigh anything in space," Rowan said.

"Babe, this telescope generates its own gravity."

They put on spacesuits, then floated out of the Jerusalem. They worked for a while on Brooklyn's roof, mounting the telescope. Finally they plugged video cables into the ship, streaming the view from the telescope to Brooklyn's monitor. When their work was done, they stepped back inside and removed their helmets.

"Great, you've turned me into a tank!" Brooklyn said. "Damn, this thing is heavy."

Bay looked at Rowan. "See?"

"Are you sure there are no ants on this telescope?" Brooklyn asked.

Bay rolled his eyes. "Brook, why would there be ants on telescopes?"

"Well, ants are very small," the starship said. "Maybe somebody was using the telescope to see them."

"It's a telescope, not a microscope!" Bay said.

"Yes, but do the ants know that?" Brooklyn was now rocking in space, jangling the telescope mounted on her roof.

Rowan patted a bulkhead. "Brook, when I lived in Paradise Lost, I became good at hunting ants. Don't worry, I'm clean. I know how to spot ants. I'll be your ant hunter. If any ever sneak in, I'll crush 'em."

That seemed to mollify the ship. Her rocking stopped. "You are so much nicer than Bay. Please stay here forever."

"Oh, I plan to," Rowan said. "This is my new home."

"Has anyone considered asking me about this?" Bay said. "The owner of this starship?"

"To remind you, you stole me," Brooklyn said.

He snorted. "Be thankful. Otherwise you'd still be a shuttle inside the Jerusalem. They have ants there, you know. Want me to bring you back?"

Brooklyn gasped. "You wicked, horrible man! Rowan, punch him for me."

She did. Hard.

"Now come on," Rowan said, "let's get this telescope online."

They entered the cockpit, switched on the computer interface, and detected the mounted telescope. With a few keystrokes, they were able to patch in. From here in the cockpit, they could now move the telescope, zoom in and out, and watch the video feed.

Using the joystick, Rowan zoomed in and gasped. "Hey, Bay! I found an alien warrior chick with huge round—"

He pulled the joystick away from her. "Give me that." He pointed at a new location in space. He gasped too. "I found where that joke is funny! Wait, false alarm, actually that place doesn't exist in the universe."

Rowan rolled her eyes so far she nearly peered back into her head. "Give me that."

She grabbed the joystick back, then leaned forward, stuck out her tongue, and got to some serious work. She kept checking the coordinates, then tweaking, adjusting, zooming in, adjusting again. As she worked, the monitor displayed what the telescope was viewing: fields of stars, nebulae, swirls of galaxies, ringed planets, and all the wonders of the cosmos. But Rowan paused on none of them. She kept working, adjusting her coordinates, seeking.

Finally—

"I think . . ." Rowan frowned and zoomed in. "I think this is it. Damn, I lost it. Everything keeps moving. Wait!"

She typed on the keyboard, setting the telescope to keep tracking the moving target.

There.

Rowan and Bay looked at the image on the monitor. A small dot of light. A star.

"That's Sol," Rowan said softly. "It's thousands of light-years away, but that's our star. Earth's star. That's the sun."

And suddenly tears were flowing, and she was trembling, and Bay wrapped her in his arms. They sat together, gazing at the star on the monitor. They could not see it with the naked eye. Even with the telescope, the image was blurry, just a handful of pixels. But it was real. It was there.

"Our home," Rowan whispered.

"Can we see Earth too?" Bay asked.

Rowan shook her head. "No. Earth is much smaller and dimmer than the sun. We can't zoom in any farther. But this is still good. This is home." She nodded, tears on her eyelashes. "This is home."

For a moment, they sat in silence.

Then Brooklyn cleared her throat. "Um, guys? I can interface with the system. I can give it some boost. Mind if I take over?"

"Go for it," Bay said.

The image of the sun became clearer, expanding to include more pixels. The image moved aside, then zoomed in again.

A single pixel appeared on the monitor.

A black monitor. In its center—one blue pixel.

Rowan gasped. "Is that . . .?" she whispered.

"Earth," Brooklyn said, her voice soft. "That's Earth."

"You've got to be shitting me," Bay said.

Rowan poked him hard in the ribs. "Way to spoil the moment, butthead."

"Who you calling butthead, scuzzbucket?" he said.

She punched him. "Takes one to know one."

They both raised their fists, about to fight, then embraced again. They sat quietly, gazing at the pale blue pixel.

"You know," Rowan said, "it takes the light thousands of years to travel here from Earth. The Earth on our monitor—the Earth we're looking at right now—is the Earth from thousands of years back. From before the aliens destroyed it. Before we were exiled. It's the world from the Earthstone—of movies, books, music, life."

"A memory," Bay said. "A ghost from the past."

"Yes." Rowan nodded. "But also a promise. A promise that we can go back. That we can rebuild, renew, restore." She turned toward him. "We can recreate Earth, Bay. Our cultural heritage. Our world. It's there waiting for us, calling us home."

"Calling us home," he repeated softly.

She leaned her head on his shoulder, nestling close. He placed his arm around her and stroked her hair. Their world was still far. There were still many dangers on the way, still battles to fight, still horrors to face. But there was hope. There was light. There was a pale blue pixel and a sacred vow. There was Earth, and she was shining from across the darkness, calling them home.

The story continues in A Memory of Earth (Children of Earthrise II).

Click here to read the next book in the series:

DanielArenson.com/AMemoryOfEarth