"I did not!" Duncan said. "I was pretending to keep them happy."
"Yeah, yeah, sure," Mairead said. "You never could tell those two crazy buggers apart."
"Well it's not my fault you all look like bloody red toothpicks!" Duncan said. "Too skinny, the lot of you."
Mairead glanced down at Duncan's ample belly. "You could learn a thing or two from us."
"Nonsense." Duncan sucked in his gut and puffed out his chest. "This is all muscle, lass. That's what you need more of."
She snorted. "I have a Firebird starfighter. That's my muscle." Mairead smiled softly and looked at their old family photo on the wall. "I wish they could have seen me. Ma and the boys. Seen me become a pilot."
Duncan reached across the table and patted her hand. "Maybe they do, lass. Maybe they do."
He didn't really believe that. An afterlife? No, Duncan had seen too many boys and girls die in agony, their bodies torn apart, their minds going mad at the end. Too much pain to believe the soul could carry on. To believe humans were anything but meat. But he also knew something about comforting the grieving.
Yet as he lay in bed that night, Duncan wondered: Who would comfort him?
And he knew the answer.
His daughter comforted him. His friend Emet. All the Heirs of Earth did. Every one of them, every warrior who fought, every refugee who cowered, every human calling out for aid—they were all his children.
May I heal you all, he thought. May I guide you all home.
His eyes closed, and Duncan slept.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
For the first time in her life, Leona Ben-Ari was leading the Inheritor fleet to battle.
Her father was not here. He had gone to rescue Bay.
Many of her warriors were still wounded, recovering from their last battle.
Leona herself was bandaged, burnt, still weary after fighting at Hacksaw Cove only yesterday.
But she flew onward. Toward Hierarchy space. Toward the scorpions. Perhaps toward her death and the fall of the Inheritors.
But I will fly onward, she thought. I will face my enemies. I will fight with all my strength and courage. Because ahead of me, in the darkness, there are humans in danger. And wherever humans are in danger, the Heirs of Earth will be there.
She stood on the bridge of the ISS Jerusalem, flagship of the fleet. Her officers stood around her. Like her, they wore brown trousers and blue jackets, uniforms of the Heirs of Earth. No two uniforms were alike. They had no textile factory, no tailors or seamstresses. They had collected scraps of clothes across the galaxy, had sewn some, had stitched and dyed cotton and wool. Their weapons too were varied. Many carried rifles and pistols. Some bore electrical prods, and a few warriors just carried swords and clubs. They looked more like a ragged group of mercenaries than an army. But for Leona's money, they were the best damn warriors in the galaxy.
The rest of the fleet followed the Jerusalem. Sixteen other warships, all smaller than Jerusalem, all freighters in their previous lives, but fierce and ready for battle.
Several starfighters circled them in constant vigil, small vessels only large enough for a single pilot. Emet had designed them himself, had named them Firebirds. A holy name. A name from antiquity. The name of old Earth's starfighters, which the Golden Lioness had commanded two thousand years ago. Like the ancient firebird from legend, a magical bird that rose from the ashes, so too did humanity's fleet rise again.
It was a small fleet. Barely more than a flotilla. Compared to the fleets of powerful civilizations, the Inheritor fleet was laughable.
"Aye, we're not much of a fleet, lass." A deep voice rumbled behind her. "Some would say we belong in a museum. Most would say the scrap yard."
Leona turned to see Duncan walking toward her. The doctor wore cargo pants with jangling pockets, a blue overcoat with many buttons and patches, and a pair of goggles that rested on his great bald head. On one hip, he carried a medical kit. On the other, a pistol the size of his forearm. The doctor was sixty, old for a human these days, and his white beard hung down to his belt. But the squat man was still powerful, his shoulders wide, his back strong. Leona was only twenty-seven, but she doubted she could take him in a fight.
"This is all we have," Leona said. "These few old clunkers. This motley crew of warriors in shabby clothes. But I'm proud of this army. This is the best army in the galaxy. Because this is Earth's army." She wrapped her right hand around her left fist, the Inheritor Salute. "For Earth!"
Across the bridge, the other warriors returned the salute. "For Earth!"
Leona turned to stare through the front viewport. The darkness spread before them. The stars streamed at their sides. They were near now. Near the border. Near Hierarchy space. Near the greatest battle of her life.
I wish you were here, Dad, she thought.
She had wanted Emet to come. But once, long ago, he had flown to battle and left his son behind. He would not abandon Bay again.
You're ready, Leona, the admiral had told her. Command the fleet. You can do this.
She activated the communicator pinned to her lapel, and she transmitted her voice to the entire fleet.
"Warriors of Earth. This is Commodore Leona Ben-Ari, acting commander of the fleet. Yesterday, we received intelligence that the Skra-Shen, those we call scorpions, have ramped up their hostility toward humanity. Across Hierarchy space, which they fully control, they have implemented a genocidal program they call The Human Solution. Their forces sweep from world to world, capturing humans wherever they hide. With trickery and false promises of safety, they lure humans into their ships, only to transport them to gulocks. In these camps, on barren worlds, the scorpions exterminate their prisoners—our brothers and sisters, our fellow humans. We've learned that over the past year, the scorpions have slain millions of humans. Let us observe a moment of silence in their memory."
She stood, silent, head lowered. Across the Jerusalem, the others stood silently too.
Leona spoke again.
"Today, a scorpion convoy will be hauling a fresh batch of human prisoners to a gulock. The enemy will be transporting the humans in cargo starships we've called deathcars. Their flight path will take them close to the border between Concord and Hierarchy space. If the convoy arrives at the gulock, the human prisoners—there are likely to be hundreds—will be slain. It's our mission to invade Hierarchy space, to attack the deathcar convoy, rescue the human prisoners, and transport them back to the Concord. We can be in and out of Hierarchy space within an hour. The scorpions will dare not chase us back into Concord space; they still observe the treaty of nonaggression between the Concord and Hierarchy civilizations. But we are the Heirs of Earth. We are not bound by such treaties. We will complete our mission. We will save our people. We cannot save the millions of humans who cry out in anguish across Hierarchy worlds. But we can save the prisoners in this convoy! And every life we save is a world entire."
Leona paused. She knew her soldiers were afraid. But she knew they would fight for her. For humanity. She knew that to save even a single life, they would charge into battle.
"If we save only one life," she said, "that will be enough. Every human life is precious. Every human life is a world. The battle today will be harsh. The scorpions will fight well. They will be vicious and terrible in their fury. We will be afraid. Some of us will die. But we will not run. We will face them with courage and strength, and we will win! For Earth!"