The strikers stormed toward them. They looked like black arrowheads, each the size of the Jerusalem but far faster, far stronger.
Somebody betrayed us, Emery realized. One of the Rawdiggers sold us out.
But there were still human refugees on those Rawdigger freighters.
"Rawdigger ships, to us!" Emet cried. "Do you hear me? Fly to us!"
The Rawdigger ships were still several moments away, hovering in Hierarchy territory—just beyond the border. They were helpless out there. They were frozen in place, perhaps too afraid to defy the advancing scorpions.
Emet cursed and shoved down the throttle. The Jerusalem—this heavy, bulky warship—clattered forward. Around it flew the nineteen other human warships, taking battle formation, extending their cannons.
The Inheritor fleet was a far cry from the armada Einav Ben-Ari had commanded two thousand years ago. The legendary Golden Lioness had flown to battle with a hundred thousand human warships, according to the Earthstone. The Inheritors had only twenty freighters, purchased from aliens, rusty and patched up, refitted for war. They were slow. They were aging. Yet they charged forth with the courage of any fleet from legend.
"Rawdiggers, to us!" Emet shouted. But the alien cargo ships were slowly turning toward the strikers, perhaps begging for their lives.
They know we can't defend them, Emet thought. Maybe they're right.
"Inheritors, fan out and fire on those strikers!" Emet cried. "Defend those freighters!"
He fired the Jerusalem's cannons. The frigate shook and rumbled as its cannons blasted. Shells flew toward the enemy ships. Around him, the other human ships broadened their formation, then fired too, careful to avoid the Rawdigger freighters.
A few shells slammed into strikers. Explosions rocked space. One striker shattered, but the other triangular warships kept flying.
And the strikers fired back.
Plasma bolts flew from them, blue in the center and flaring out to red, blazing through space.
Emet grabbed the yoke—the heavy, T-shaped control device of the ISS Jerusalem. He pulled the warship sideways, trying to dodge the assault. But the Jerusalem had once been a tanker, built for transporting crude oil. Even with the new engines Emet had installed, she was too slow.
The enemy plasma slammed into Jerusalem's shields.
The warship jolted.
The bridge shook.
Klaxons blared.
Emet cursed. A true warship would have a proper bridge with separate stations for captain, pilot, navigator, gunner, engineer, and communication officer. But the Jerusalem was essentially a glorified space truck. Emet had a hundred warriors in his hold, but in this battle, he fought alone.
He fired his cannons again.
His shells streamed out, skimming the top of the Rawdigger ships—too close for comfort. The shells exploded against the strikers. Flame and shattered metal filled space. One of the Rawdigger freighters was spinning madly. Its claw, the one that had grabbed the crate of diamonds, swung madly on its chain.
"Firebirds, deploy!" Emet said. "Defend those Rawdigger cogs!"
Years ago, at great expense, Emet had installed hangar doors on the Jerusalem's port side. Now those doors opened, and his starfighters emerged.
They were small, agile ships, a single pilot in each. The Inheritors had named them Firebirds, modeling them after Earth's ancient starfighters. Emet had studied the starfighters featured in the Earthstone, had done his best to emulate those old designs. The modern Firebirds were refitted space-racers, purchased from a defunct racing guild. They were weaker than their golden age counterparts. But they were still faster than any other Inheritor ship.
And now the Firebirds roared toward battle, guns firing.
Fire filled space.
The strikers released a barrage of plasma. Blasts hit the Firebirds. One of the starfighters shattered, and the pilot flew from the ship, torn apart. Emet knew that pilot, had watched that pilot grow up. Another Firebird careened, then slammed into a frigate. The smaller ship burst into flame.
"Surround the freighters!" Emet shouted. "Protect the Rawdigger freight—"
Before he could complete his sentence, an electromagnetic barrage hit the Jerusalem. His monitor crackled, died, then turned back on.
The monitor now displayed a message. A message from the scorpion fleet.
Watch, pest. Enjoy the show.
The message vanished.
The strikers turned toward one of the three Rawdigger freighters, ignoring the human starships.
The strikers—a dozen or more—opened fire.
Their plasma bolts slammed into the Rawdigger freighter—a ship with human refugees inside.
The freighter had a thick iron hull. For a moment, it withstood the barrage. Emet shouted, firing his cannons, and managed to take out a striker, but the rest kept bombarding the freighter.
With an explosion of fury and a million shards of metal, the freighter shattered.
Its hull fragments flew through space, some chunks the size of men, others smaller than coins. The debris slammed into the Jerusalem, into the rest of the Inheritor fleet. A Firebird burned. The crate of diamonds shattered, and a rain of sparkling stones filled space like a flurry of snow. The diamonds peppered the Jerusalem, embedding into the graphene hull.
Emet stood on his bridge, staring, for an instant frozen, as the human refugees spilled out from the shattered freighter.
Hundreds tumbled into space. Some in rags, most naked. All thin. All dying. They flailed in the vacuum.
We have time, Emet thought. We can save them.
"Get them into our ships!" he shouted. "Firebirds, get—"
But the strikers fired again.
Plasma washed over the hundreds of ejected refugees.
In space, they burned. In the darkness, they died.
Emet howled and fired all his cannons against the strikers. Around him, the rest of his fleet fired too. Shells slammed into the enemy. One striker shattered. A second. A third. Emet plowed forward, and the heavy Jerusalem slammed into a striker, knocking the enemy ship aside.
The Jerusalem jolted. Emet nearly fell. The striker slammed into its neighbor, and both enemy ships cracked open, spilling scorpions. Firebirds swooped, firing machine guns, tearing the scorpions apart. The beasts' exoskeletons shattered, and their gooey innards leaked out.
Terror pounded through Emet. His hands began to shake around the yoke.
Again he was back there. A younger man. Again he saw the strikers descend. Saw the scorpions emerge. Saw their emperor, the great crimson beast Sin Kra, tear his wife apart.
Emet growled, refocusing on the battle.
There were still two Rawdigger freighters, each transporting human refugees from Hierarchy territory. He had lost hundreds. He could still save the others.
"Inheritor ships!" Emet said. "Surround the remaining two Rawdigger freighters. Focus all firepower outward. Form a defensive sphere and escort the freighters back into Concord space. I am Emet Ben-Ari, descended of our Golden Lioness. I fight with you. For Earth!"
Many of them had fallen. But many still answered his cry. "For Earth!"
The Inheritor fleet surrounded the two remaining freighters. They blasted out a sphere of firepower, slowly moving back toward the Concord. Every kilometer, the enemy struck them. Plasma bolts took out a human warship nearly the size of the Jerusalem, slaying the fifty Inheritors aboard—men Emet had known for years. Another Firebird burned, dived through space, and slammed into the Jerusalem with roaring fire.