Emet huffed. "You were miserable on Aberglen, tending to broken hooves and sheep with worms."
"A vet is an honorary profession, lad." Duncan looked around him and groaned. "Space is no place for a man. Give me sunshine and hay and the smell of cow shit. Up here there's just darkness. Just emptiness. It's no natural place."
Emet couldn't help but crack a smile. "You don't miss shit. You're full of it."
Like every Inheritor, Duncan had lost people. Like everyone in this fleet, he had seen his home burn. So he had joined them, had switched from tending to farm animals to healing wounded soldiers. A handful of Inheritors had been soldiers in a previous life, serving in alien armies. Most were farmers, milkmaids, haberdashers, a couple of teachers, a few mechanics and engineers—ordinary people. People who dared to dream with Emet. Who dared sing the old songs of Earth. Who dared believe they could someday see that world again.
Yes, Old Duncan McQueen still grumbled and groaned. The vet-turned-doctor was set in his ways. But deep down, the stocky man with the long white beard dreamed of Earth with as much vivid color as anyone.
"Our contact said they'd be here," Duncan muttered. "I knew we couldn't trust the bloody Rawdiggers."
"The Rawdiggers have helped us before," Emet said.
Duncan grunted. "They're bloody arachnids too. Just like the scorpions. Never trust a—"
"There." Emet leaned closer. "Ships. Heading our way."
The ISS Jerusalem had no holographic interfaces like modern ships. Emet pulled out a clunky metal keyboard. He tapped a few keys, and the viewport zoomed in.
Three cargo ships were flying his way, emblazoned with two crossing pickaxes, symbol of the Rawdigger Guild. At a glance, they seemed like simple space freighters ferrying iron ore. But these miners were taking payment from Emet. These were friends—or at least business partners.
The three Rawdigger freighters were still in Hierarchy territory, but they were flying fast toward the border.
Emet squinted, scanning space for signs of trouble. Ahead was scorpion territory. But he saw no strikers, the scorpions' triangular warships, only the friendly Rawdigger freighters. The boxy black starships kept flying closer.
One of the Rawdigger ships was hailing him. Emet flicked a switch, taking the call.
On a viewport before him appeared an image of the alien ship's bridge. It was a dark, shadowy chamber stuffed with levers, pulleys, and chains. The Rawdigger captain hung from chains like a spider on a web. The Rawdiggers had evolved underground, natural miners. Four of their six limbs were tipped with claws like pickaxes, useful for clinging to stone tunnels. Their forelimbs were shaped like shovels, the blades made from the same keratin as their claws. Lures grew from their heads, tipped with luminous bulbs, useful both for attracting prey and seeing underground.
"Admiral Emet Ben-Ari," said the Rawdigger captain, voice like metal scraping on stone. "Do you have the second half of our payment?"
Emet nodded. "I do. Do you have the refugees?"
The Rawdigger swung aside on his chains, shining his lure toward the shadows behind him.
"Your cargo," said the alien.
Emet stared. He tightened his grip on his wooden stock.
"Ra damn scorpions," Duncan muttered at his side. "What the hell have they done to them?"
Tortured them, Emet knew. Broke them. Maybe beyond repair.
Behind the Rawdigger, filling the cargo ship, were human refugees.
They had come from deep in Hierarchy space, fleeing the scorpions. Many were naked. Most were wounded. All were cadaverous, their skin clinging to bones, their eyes sunken, their cheeks hollow. They seemed barely alive.
Emet had grown up in Concord territory, bouncing from world to world. The Concord was an alliance of peaceful aliens, and even here, life for a human was hard. Nobody knew that more than Emet.
But in Hierarchy space? In the dark empire of the scorpions? There, in that cursed realm, life for a human wasn't just hard. It was intolerable. Emet saw the proof of that before him.
"What the bloody hell did they endure in the Hierarchy?" Duncan said, voice rising louder, and his face flushed. "I'll tear those bloody scorpions apart! I wouldn't treat a rat that way. How dare they—"
Emet placed a hand on his friend's shoulder. "Hush now, Dunc. Wait. We make the deal first. We'll seek vengeance later."
"So, Emet!" said the Rawdigger captain. "This shipment has cost us a lot. Deliver your payment."
"Once you deliver the humans," Emet said.
The alien miner laughed. "No, Emet. That is not how this goes. Send forth the diamonds." The Rawdigger licked his lips. "Precious, lovely diamonds."
Emet nodded. Thankfully, he had found a lab that could produce diamonds for cheap. Diamonds had once been costly for humans too. Today all it took was some carbon and a good oven. The Rawdiggers had no such technology. They were good at digging. They were decent at flying. They knew little about chemistry.
The Rawdiggers admired the stones, not for their beauty but their strength. The miners had sharp claws for digging, but they couldn't dig through the harder minerals they encountered. With diamonds on their claws, they could dig deeper, seeking the iron they craved. The beasts not only built their starships with iron, they ate the element, craving it with the intensity of a druggie.
"Send them!" the Rawdigger said. "Send us our diamonds."
Emet tapped few buttons. His airlock opened, and a crate glided out toward the Rawdigger flotilla.
"Your diamonds, as promised," said Emet.
A hatch opened on the Rawdigger ship. A metal claw emerged, dangling from a chain. It reminded Emet of the claws he had seen in old movies, used to grab plush toys from a bin. The claw flew toward the crate, grabbed it, and began dragging the treasure back toward the Rawdigger freighter.
"Very good, Emet," the Rawdigger said. "A deal is a deal, and we Rawdiggers are arachnids of honor. We will count your diamonds, and if—"
Alarms blared across both bridges at once.
The Rawdigger gasped and cut off the transmission.
Emet stared into the distance and felt the blood drain from his face.
Ships.
A dozen or more.
Dark, triangular ships, leaving trails of fire.
Strikers.
Scorpion starships.
CHAPTER FOUR
The strikers charged toward the ISS Jerusalem, flagship of the Heirs of Earth.
Emet stood on the bridge, staring at them.
He knew these ships. He had fought them before. Years ago, ships like these had arrived to slay his wife.
Terror filled Emet. For a moment he could not breathe.
The moment ended. He hit the communicator, opening a channel to all other Inheritor starships.
"Scorpions attack!" he said. "Battle stations! Charge forward and meet them!"
Duncan inhaled sharply. "That would take us into Hierarchy territory, lad."
Emet nodded. "Then we bring the battle to them. We must defend those Rawdigger ships!"
Emet took a seat at the helm. In recent years, he had begun to let his daughter fly the Jerusalem, even in battle. But Leona was parsecs away now, seeking human survivors on Til Shiran, a desert world. Emet would fly the Inheritor flagship himself, commanding both Jerusalem and his nineteen other warships.
"We can't take this many," Duncan said, staring at the strikers.
"We will," said Emet. "We must." He raised his voice, speaking through the comm to his fleet. "Show them no fear! Show them no mercy. You are warriors of humanity! For Earth!"
And through the speakers emerged the voices of his captains, brave sons and daughters of humanity. "For Earth!"
Earth. Their heritage. Their birthright. Their beacon in the darkness. Every battle here in exile they fought for that distant blue world. They were now thousands of light-years away from Earth, a planet shrouded in myth and drenched in legend. But they still fought for Mother Earth. Every time.