Mommy! she cried. Daddy! Rowan!
Jade took a few steps through the ashes, and smoke swirled above. She fell to her knees.
She gazed up at the sky, and she could no longer see them. Only ghosts. Only echoes. The Inheritor fleet was leaving, and Leona was leaving with them.
My friend. My friend . . .
Jade screamed.
"They infected me!" she cried, arms held above her head, claws extending. "They planted memories in my brain! They lie, they lie! Filthy humans. Lying humans!" Her voice was hoarse, torn, and she tasted blood. She shouted as loudly as she could. "I am a scorpion!"
She approached a striker that lay fallen on the ground, cracked and smoldering. She stepped inside, stumbled past dying scorpions, and pulled power cables out from the engines. They sparked in her hands.
Be strong. Be brave.
She plugged the cables into her implants.
She screamed.
The power bolted through her, searing her on the inside, and Jade laughed.
She unplugged the cables, purified, her memories burnt away like this gulock. Like all the humans would soon be.
A whimpering sounded outside.
Jade stepped out of the starship. She saw it there. A human. A young man, lying on the ground, forgotten. He must have fled the camp walls during the battle.
Jade knelt by him.
"Help me," the man whispered, bleeding from deep gashes to his legs.
Jade stroked his cheek. She leaned down, kissed his lips, then nibbled his earlobe.
She whispered to him, "You will all die . . ."
She bit off his ear and spat it out. He screamed, and she grabbed his head and twisted until it cracked. He fell silent. Jade lapped at his blood greedily. It flowed down her throat, hot, coppery, giving her strength.
She rose to her feet, blood on her lips and naked body. Scorpions gathered around her.
"The humans invaded our lands!" she cried. "We will no longer hold back. We will chase them everywhere, even into Concord space. The Inheritors will scream!"
The scorpions roared for triumph.
Their strikers rose, leaving the burnt gulock. Heading into space. Heading to war, victory, and purification.
* * * * *
Leona lay in the ISS Kos, hospital ship of the fleet, grumbling as Duncan treated her wounds.
"I should be back on the Jerusalem's bridge," she said. "I am Commodore Leona Ben-Ari, acting commander of this fleet."
Duncan nodded. "Aye, lass. And if you don't lie still and let me complete these stitches, you'll be known as the Dreaded Pirate Ben-Ari, because you'll be walking everywhere on a peg leg."
She rolled her eyes. "I've had worse wounds."
"But I've never had a worse patient," Duncan said with a wry smile. "Now lie still, lass!"
She lay still, letting him stitch her wound. Despite his thick fingers, Duncan was incredibly dexterous. The wound would leave only a small, thin scar.
Yet what was another scar in this war? Leona already bore the scars of her wedding day. And there were deeper scars too. Scars one could not see.
She tilted her head and gazed out the porthole. The stars were streaming by outside. They were crossing the border now, returning to Concord space. But not to safety. Leona knew that there could be no more safety in this galaxy. Not without a homeland. There was such terror in the darkness.
She could not see them from here. But Leona knew they were out there. The forces of the Hierarchy. Dreadnoughts. Starfighters. Carriers filled with scorpions. And behind them—the gulocks. Hundreds of them. Hundreds she could never reach.
Again she saw it—the pile of skinned corpses.
The flayed humans, still alive.
Weeping as she burned them.
She spoke softly. "The wounds you stitch will heal. But there are worse wounds than those on flesh. The wounds on the heart run deeper. Those might never heal."
Duncan paused for a moment from his work. He lowered his head. "Aye, lass. Those I cannot heal."
She looked at him, at her kind doctor. She had seen photos of him as a young man; he had been with the Inheritors since the beginning. Back then, thirty years ago, Duncan had sported a flaming red beard and a full head of hair. Now his beard was white, his head bald. But he was still strong. Still kind. She saw the compassion in his eyes.
"How does one face such evil?" Leona said softly. "They're an entire empire dedicated to hatred. To hating us. The things they do, the torture, the pain . . ." She winced. "How does one keep fighting? I feel so alone. So overwhelmed. There is so much darkness out there. So much evil."
Duncan stroked her hair. "Aye, lass, the galaxy is filled with evil. Many aliens are a nasty lot. And there is evil within humans as well. There are those even among our own species no better than the bugs. But over my years of fighting, I've learned something, lass."
"What?" she whispered.
"That there is goodness in the galaxy too. There is goodness in the hearts of men and women. Whenever you face evil, look around. You'll see that goodness too. In the gulock, a place of despair and death, we brought hope. Where the scorpions came to kill, we came to save. It's always like that. Even in the darkest shadows, there is some light. Always seek that light, and you'll find it. Even in your darkest nights."
Leona sat up, embraced him, and laid her head against his wide chest. Duncan held her, stroking her hair. She wept against his shirt.
"There there, lass," he said. "It's all right now. Old Doc is here."
She smiled through her tears. "You are my light in shadows. And I will be a light to my people. And we will all be lights to humanity. When night falls, good men and women shine a light. That's what we will do."
Leona returned to the bridge of the Jerusalem, the flagship of humanity. Around her flew her warships. In the vast darkness of space, their lights shone.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Rowan walked across the hangar, nervously glancing around. It was only a journey of several steps between the Cagayan de Oro to the Brooklyn, but it felt like a light-year. She had spent nearly all her life hiding in the ductwork, sneaking down only rarely, usually just before dawn, to use the toilet, shower hurriedly, and pilfer food. To walk like this in the open, in a busy hangar no less? Rowan's heart pounded against her ribs, and her breath quickened.
She gulped nervously and glanced around her. Many aliens were here, entering and exiting their starships. Several square, two-dimensional aliens were floating forward like sails. A few feline aliens, their fur mottled, were skulking around a silvery starship, eyes glowing. Living crystals detached from a glowing starship and hovered forward, while a handful of hoggers—furry aliens that looked like warthogs—snorted at Rowan.
"Filthy pest," one of the hoggers muttered.
A few other aliens, giant slugs, turned their eyestalks toward Rowan and spat.
They're all looking at me, Rowan realized. Every alien in this hangar. But they're not attacking.
She realized that her hand was resting on her pistol. That behind her, Emet stood in the open airlock of the Cagayan de Oro.
They all heard how we defeated the bonecrawlers, Rowan thought. They're scared.
She slowly turned toward the hoggers. She found the one who had called her a pest. She made eye contact.
The portly alien grunted, his fur bristled, and he raised his tusks. Rowan expected him to charge, but she maintained eye contact. Finally the alien rolled onto his back and exposed his belly, a sign of submission.