These humans were not Inheritors. They were barely strong enough to walk. They were whipped and bleeding. Many were so thin they looked like skeletons draped with skin. They were bald, ashen, dying.
But they cried out for Earth. And they fought.
One woman, skeletal and bald and withered, knelt by a dead Inheritor, lifted the soldier's rifle, and howled as she fired bullets. One man—he was so thin Leona could not determine his age—grabbed a fallen flamethrower and unleashed its fury. Two other survivors, mere children, lifted grenades off dead Inheritors and tossed them. Other survivors, madness in their eyes, leaped into the fray with no weapons. They grabbed fallen claws and swung them as swords.
"Vengeance!" they cried. "Vengeance!"
Hundreds of other prisoners joined them, flowing into the space port. Thousands. Most were near death, but still they rose up, desperate and weeping and crying out. For vengeance. For the Heirs of Earth. For their lost home.
And the scorpions fell back before them.
They drove the beasts against the brick wall of the camp. They fired their last bullets, blew their last fire, tossed their last grenades. And they slew the scorpions until no more moved.
Leona stood, bleeding, trembling, cuts on her arms and legs. Her curly hair had torn free from its band, and it flew like a mane in the wind. She stared across the space port. Carnage was everywhere. Scores of dead scorpions. Hundreds of dead humans.
"Doc," she said, voice hoarse. "Begin loading survivors into our ships." She turned toward a group of ragged Inheritors, their rifles smoking. "Lift more ammo off the dead. Then come with me. We move into the camp."
The Inheritors followed her. They left the spaceport, passed under an iron archway, and stepped onto a dirt road. Leona walked at the lead, and the others followed her. They moved warily, rifles raised, staring from side to side. The round concrete huts lined the roadside, and Leona saw more human prisoners inside, these ones too weak to move.
A scorpion leaped from around a hut. Leona fired a burst of bullets, tearing it down. They kept advancing.
As they walked, more prisoners limped or crawled out of their huts. These ones were too weak to fight. There were elderly men and women. Amputees. Prisoners coughing blood, feverish, covered with boils. Skeletal children crawled through the dirt, ribs visible, begging for food. An old woman fell to her knees in front of Leona, weeping, reaching out to her.
"Thank you. Thank you." She hugged Leona's legs. "Thank you, Leona Ben-Ari, the young lioness."
"How do you know my name?" Leona asked.
"All know you here," whispered an old man, limping toward her. Tears flowed down his cheeks. "You are descended from Queen Einav. You are our savior."
Leona turned toward Ramses. The tall, dark captain was among her most loyal and confident warriors.
"Pharaoh," Leona said. "Accompany these prisoners back to Doc and get them into the ships. Then prepare to launch our surprise weapon. Pharaoh! You with me?"
Ramses looked at her, snapping out of a dream. The captain normally loved smiling, joking, playing pranks. Often he could be found playing poker with his fellow pilots, spending most of the game telling bad jokes. Today his eyes were haunted. But he nodded, face hardening.
"I'm with you, Commodore," Ramses said. "I'm on it."
The Pharaoh turned to leave, taking the prisoners with him.
Leona turned toward other Inheritors. "You continue with me. Through the camp."
The marines kept walking, firing at the odd scorpion that still scuttled. Soon they reached the center of the camp, and nausea rose in Leona.
Here, in the dirt, rose the pile of flayed corpses she had seen from the air. There were hundreds. Flies bustled over the skinned bodies, feeding on the flesh. Behind the pile rose a large concrete dome. Through the doorway, she saw human skins hanging on ropes to dry. A tannery.
And Leona couldn't help it. She doubled over and vomited.
"My Ra," one of her Inheritors whispered. "Some of them are alive. There are live people in there!"
Leona straightened and stared. Her eyes burned. Some of the flayed bodies were moving. They were reaching out. Whispering. Begging.
Tears streamed down Leona's cheeks.
"Burn them," she whispered.
"Commodore, we—"
"Burn them," she said again. "Now!"
She raised Arondight. Weeping, she fired at the flayed bodies. The other Inheritors joined her. Those with rifles fired bullets. Those with flamethrowers unleashed torrents of fire. The pile of bodies burned, and humans screamed. Screams of agony. Of relief. Of gratitude. And Leona knew that she would never stop hearing them.
They ceased fire. The corpses burned.
And through the smoke, a figure emerged.
She walked toward the Inheritors, wreathed in ashes, and the flames did not touch her. She wore a cloak of human skin, its edges charred. She paused before the Inheritors, the corpses behind her, and doffed her ghastly cloak. A smile stretched across her face, and her blue hair billowed in the wind.
Leona's heart nearly stopped.
"Jade," she whispered. "You're alive."
The woman nodded. Like at Hacksaw Cove, she wore an outfit of black wires and heavy boots tipped with steel. She held out her arms, and claws extended from her fingertips.
"Hello, Leona!" Jade said. "Did you truly think I died at Hacksaw Cove? No, pest. I left that world before you destroyed it. And I knew how to find you. I knew you would come here. I've been waiting for you."
Around Leona, her fellow Inheritors aimed their rifles and fired.
Bullets slammed into Jade. The woman only smiled, brushed off the flattened bullets, and took a few steps closer.
"You cannot hurt me," Jade said. "I cannot die. I am the daughter of Emperor Sin Kra himself, lord of the Skra-Shen."
Leona shook her head. "You're my friend!" she cried. "You're the daughter of David Emery! You are human!"
Jade's smile vanished. Her cheeks flushed, and her eyes blazed. "You will not call me a pest."
Leona stared in disbelief. "What did they do to you, Jade? What did they turn you into? You're not one of them! You're not a scorpion! I knew you as a child. You're one of us. Look at yourself, Jade! You are human."
"Lies!" Jade shrieked. She leaped up, soared through the air, and landed before Leona. Her boots cracked the ground. "I am Skra-Shen! You cannot deceive me with your trickery, pest."
Blue hair billowing, her eyes mad, Jade swung her arm. The blow hit Leona, tossing her into the air. It felt like a starship plowing into her. Leona hit the ground hard, ears ringing, seeing stars.
Jade walked toward her, eyes ablaze.
"Die now," Jade said, claws raised.
Leona screamed and fired Arondight. Bullets slammed into Jade, doing her no harm. Other Inheritors were firing too, and Jade screamed. The bullets were hurting her, bruising her, but could not penetrate her alabaster skin.
She doesn't have human skin, Leona thought. She has hard skin like a scorpion's exoskeleton.
Jade leaped up, soared the height of a guard tower, then slammed down by Leona. Cracks spread across the ground. When Leona tried to rise, Jade grabbed her and tossed her back down. Her claws pierced Leona's thigh.
Leona screamed.
"Yes, old friend," Jade hissed and cackled. "I'm going to take you to my master. We'll skin you together. I will wear you as a coat. Did you truly think you could trick me, defeat me with a handful of pests and peashooters? A hundred strikers are on their way here as we speak! Your species will die! But you will not die today, Leona Ben-Ari. Not for a long while. I'm not done hurting you. You will be the last human, and then you will join the rest in hell!"
Leona trembled, bleeding, the pain blinding. She managed to speak through a clenched jaw. "There's only one thing you don't know, Jade."
The creature—perhaps she was no longer human—grinned madly. "What is that, pest?"