An Echo of Earth by Daniel Arenson

Author:Daniel Arenson [Arenson, Daniel]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Space Opera
Published: 2018-02-15T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

"Did we really have to fly in the striker?" Rowan shuddered. "This place gives me the heebie jeebies."

Jade turned from the controls. She frowned at Rowan. "The heebie-what-now?"

"You know," Rowan said, "the heebie jeebies. The willies. Ants in pants."

Jade tilted her head. "Are there ants in your pants, sister?"

"God, I hope not, or Brooklyn will never speak to me again." Rowan looked around her at striker's bridge. "Why couldn't we fly in Brooklyn again? She could have taken us to the Glittering Caves to find the sword. Brooklyn is actually comfortable. There's a bed. There are controls made for hands, not claws. There's artwork on the walls. This place looks like an abandoned bug hive."

The sisters were flying aboard the Mother's Mercy, the striker they had fled Ur Akad in. The bulkheads were forged from craggy black iron. Boulders—actual boulders of real stone—rose across the hold. Two lanterns shone above, one small and bright and white, the other large and dim and red, mimicking the binary suns of the scorpion homeworld.

Rowan did not appreciate the ambiance.

A shudder passed through her. Since fleeing Ur Akad a few weeks ago, the nightmares had never left Rowan. Her days were always exhaustingly busy. Emet had commissioned her, naming her a lieutenant, an officer of the Heirs of Earth, and she had not rested since. She trained for battle with the best sergeants. She attended meetings in the war room, listening to generals discuss battle plans. She joined video calls with alien admirals, learning about diplomacy and alliances. Rowan had even been learning to fly starships, ranging from starfighters to frigates. The days seemed endless, crammed with activity, so busy she barely had time to breathe.

The nights were a different matter.

At night, when she closed her eyes, the terrors emerged.

In her dreams, Rowan was still a prisoner, still hanging in a cage over a pit of scorpions. They cut her. Licked her. Mocked her, flayed her. Again and again, the emperor held the brand to Rowan's arm, and her skin sizzled.

You are marked, Sin Kra told her, laughing as she screamed.

Rowan awoke in cold sweat several times a night, panting, struggling for air.

For the first few nights, Rowan had slept in a cabin aboard Jerusalem, one she shared with other junior officers. Eventually, faking allergies to the Jerusalem's mattresses, she received permission to spend her nights aboard Brooklyn. In the small shuttle, she shared Bay's bed, seeking comfort in his embrace.

Rowan didn't enjoy lying about allergies. But Bay was worth a little dishonesty.

Sometimes he even kissed her goodnight. A nice little perk.

Yet even there, even in his arms, the dreams haunted Rowan. She would wake up screaming, drenched in cold sweat, scorpions crawling over her. Bay would soothe her, kiss her tears away, and she would sleep close to him, her head against his chest. And dream of scorpions again.

"Nope," Rowan said, looking around her. "Being inside a striker definitely isn't helping my anxiety."

Jade paused from working the starship controls, a complex system of levers and pulleys.

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