And they flew to their greatest battle.
This might be the end of the Heirs of Earth, Emet thought. This might be the end of all hope. But if the scorpions win this war, we all die. Civilization itself will perish, and evil will overrun the galaxy. Today we'll fight not only for Earth—but for the galaxy.
He stood on the bridge of the ISS Jerusalem, gazing out at the rest of the fleet. Tens of thousands of starships flew here. The silvery ships of the Aelonians. Fleshy podships. Glittering crystal ships. Scaly ships like dragon eggs. Ships filled with water. Ships of iron and stone. Ships of many alien civilizations, come together under the Concord banner.
And us. The Heirs of Earth.
Humanity contributed only fifteen warships to the effort. Fifteen used freighters and tankers, refitted with shields and cannons. Fifteen ships that represented a species, a hope, a dream.
Emet turned away from the bridge and entered the Jerusalem's hold.
He had never divided the Jerusalem into corridors and chambers. Here was still the great, cavernous space where the tanker had once shipped fluids and gasses. Today his best warriors stood here, brave men and women, a mix of marines and pilots. They all wore the brown and blue. They all bore rifles, pistols, blades, each warrior choosing their favorite weapons. They looked at him, eyes somber, ready for war.
Emet had left most of his people, including the survivors of the gulock, on a Concord base a light-year back, a safe place to wait out the battle. Only the warriors flew to battle. Emet had handpicked the platoon that now served aboard the Jerusalem. Here were the strongest and bravest of his warriors.
Mairead was here. The fiery redhead would fly a Firebird, commanding the starfighter wings. Her fellow pilots stood behind her, wearing jumpsuits, wings pinned to their chests. Mairead's father, Duncan, served as combat medic. Fifty marines stood farther back, men and women ready to fight, even give their lives to the cause. Here were heroes. The salt of the earth. All these Inheritors had fought the scorpions before. Some, like Duncan, had been fighting with Emet for decades.
The youngest among them was Private Rowan Emery.
She was also the shortest. She made even the squat Duncan seem tall. She had raided the children's clothes for her uniform, and her pistol—a beautiful weapon of polished brass and sanded wood—seemed as large as a rifle in her hands. But she too stared at Emet with courage and determination. Her shoulders were squared, her back straight.
Did I make a mistake bringing her here? Emet thought. But then he looked into her brown eyes. No. You deserve to be here, Rowan. To fight for your people. You've been fighting all your life. I trust you as much as any of my warriors.
Emet took a step closer. Monitors on the walls displayed the interiors of his fourteen other warships. He could see all his officers, waiting for him to speak. Captain Ramses al Masri sat aboard the ISS Rosetta, a fast and deadly corvette. Leona was commanding the Nantucket, another corvette, flying nearby. The other starship commanders were here too, all ready aboard their warships. They looked at Emet through their viewports, solemn.
Emet spoke, his voice carrying across his small fleet.
"Heirs of Earth, warriors of humanity! Long ago, we lived on our homeworld, on a blue planet called Earth. Long ago, an enemy stole our home, banished us to the stars. For eighty generations we suffered, lost, hunted everywhere. We scattered across a thousand worlds. We survived in isolated communities—on distant planets, on hidden moons, in asteroids and space stations. Hiding, desperate to survive. For the first time, in our generation, we joined together. We dared to dream of Earth, to seek our way home. We began to collect our species from across the galaxy, to unite, to gather Earth's lost children. Yet as we pursue this noble task, a cruel enemy has arisen. As we seek to save humans everywhere, they seek to slay us. Within the past few years, the scorpions have slain millions of humans. Every one of those losses grieves me. Every one is a world entire lost to the fire. Let us remember them in a moment of silence."
They all lowered their heads, silent for a long moment.
Emet spoke again.
"Today we fly to war. Yet not a war to reclaim Earth. That battle still awaits us. We fly to face the scorpions in battle. The cries of our fallen brothers and sisters compel us. We will fight for their memory, in their honor. We do not fight to avenge them, for we care not for vengeance. We fight to save those humans who might still live, who still cry out for salvation. We do not forget our holy words: Wherever a human is in danger, we will be there."
"We will be there!" his warriors cried out.
"The hour draws near," Emet said. "Very soon, we will reach the wormhole, and we will fly to the front line, and we will face the Hierarchy battalions. As we go into battle, we are accompanied by the spirits of our fallen, the millions of our lost heroes—those who fell defending Earth long ago, and those who fell to the scorpion claws in our generation. The blood of our martyrs, of our butchered children, of our brothers and sisters burned and flayed, forever commands courage in our hearts."
Rowan met his eyes. "Courage," she whispered.
"We face a mighty enemy," Emet said. "The scorpions are strong and ruthless and will fight viciously. In this battle, we will know fear and pain. Yet we will face the enemy nonetheless! We will face them with courage and pride! Our weapons are few. Our starships are fewer. Yet today we will fight with a greater weapon: our unflinching endurance. For thousands of years, we have survived in the darkness. We will survive today too. We will emerge victorious. We will live to see Earth!"
"For Earth!" Leona cried, raising her fist.
The others echoed her call. "For Earth! For Earth!"
"For Earth!" Emet said. "We will fight today with the spirits of our ancestors, the mighty warriors who came before us. Blood will spill today. Starships will burn. Warriors will fall. Yet from the fire, we will emerge stronger. We will break the enemy and bring salvation to humanity. Onward—to victory!"
"To victory! To victory!"
Their voices echoed as Emet returned to the bridge.
Duncan and Rowan joined him. As Emet sat at the helm, they took position at the ship's cannons.
"Are you sure you want me here on the bridge, laddie?" Duncan said. "I'm the oldest one in the fleet."
"And I'm the youngest," Rowan said, taking hold of the cannon controls.
"I'm sure," Emet said. "I chose you both because I trust you for this task."
Rowan bit her lip. "I've only trained for a few hours at the cannons."
"You're ready," Emet said. "I believe in you."
Duncan smiled grimly. He turned to Rowan. "I think, lass, that he's saving the other warriors for hand-to-hand combat. For boarding an enemy ship, or for defending the Jerusalem from scorpion invaders. Perhaps it's best that we stick to the bridge."
Rowan paled. She nodded. "Yes, that might be best." She cringed. "Well, I might have trained at these cannons for only a few hours, but I've spent years playing Space Invaders on the Earthstone. That's gotta count for something, right?" She looked faint.
Emet stifled a smile. "My friends, you've fought nasty enemies before. You're as brave as any other warrior. I'm proud to have you on my bridge."
Duncan pointed. He spoke softly. "Look. Aura Wormhole."
Emet looked ahead through the viewport. He saw it too. Aura Wormhole. The portal to Terminus. To the front line.
A chill gripped him, but he tightened his lips. He narrowed his eyes and eased the throttle forward, increasing their speed.