Rebellion: The Scorpion War

By Tom Leveen

When sentient giant scorpions rebel against human masters and take over her father's military base, a stubborn army brat is the only one who can save her family.

Earth is in a horrific drought. To provide enough food for the nation, scientists engineer arachnids—spiders—to enormous sizes as a source of protein. Soon it's discovered giant rachs can be trained by humans as beasts of burden; and eventually, with the advent of giant scorpions, as terrifying beasts built for combat in distant, arid lands long at war with the nation . . .

Calliope Turner is a colonel's kid living on a military base where rockets are launched to the moon. Her brother Theo is a special ops soldier about to go on a deployment there, and Callie can't wait to grow up just like him. On the day of the launch, though, every rach on base goes haywire, capturing soldiers and civilians alike. The only rach not participating in the uprising is Callie's pet rach, Goliath.

Callie and a new kid at school, Jacob, find themselves the only humans left to save the base and rescue Theo. As Callie and Jacob race to defeat the mega-scorp behind the rebellion, Callie discovers that she has a unique ability: She can communicate with the giant bugs in a way no human being should be able to do.

This shocking gift could be the key to saving Theo's life . . . or it might be the one thing that dooms them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: FTJ Creative LLC
• Release date: May 7, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223136095

Tom Leveen

Tom Leveen is the author of Random, Sick, manicpixiedreamgirl, Party, Zero (a YALSA Best Book of 2013), Shackled, and Hellworld. A frequent speaker at schools and conferences, Tom was previously the artistic director and cofounder of an all-ages, nonprofit visual and performing venue in Scottsdale, Arizona. He is an Arizona native, where he lives with his wife and young son.

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Contents

REBELLION:

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

REBELLION: THE SCORPION WAR

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Tom Leveen

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FTJ Creative LLC

ONE

A giant scorpion raced toward me and my eighth-grade class. The amber-colored scorp stretched as long as a school bus, its pincers clacking loudly as it ran our direction. Ready to eat us all alive.

The mega-scorpion slid to a halt ten yards away from us, kicking up puffs of dust on our dirt fútbol field where we played soccer every morning, when it was only 90 degrees or so. Students screamed. A new kid who’d started that morning stood frozen, his face puckered tight like he’d just sucked a lemon. What a civilian! He must never have seen a combat scorp before.

I used my floppy, olive green brim to smack the new kid on the shoulder.

Relax, I said, putting the wide hat back on.

The new kid didn’t move.

I shrugged and turned back to the mega-scorp. If we’d been anywhere other than my school on Joint Base Nogales, I’d be terrified too. But I knew the pilot on top of the giant scorpion, and knew he’d never do anything to endanger us.

Matte-black armor covered most of the scorp’s body. Their armor made them even creepier. Centered on top of the scorpion’s back sat a gyrosaddle: a gray plastic chair surrounded by a sphere of three overlapping steel rings. By sitting in the chair and wearing a special helmet connecting their brainwaves to the arachnid’s central nervous system, pilots could drive giant scorpions into combat like eight-legged tanks.

It took a dedicated soldier to be a scorp pilot. And there was no one more dedicated than my older brother, Theo.

I cupped my hands around my mouth. Way to scare everyone to death, Sarge!

Theo grinned and climbed out of the gyrosaddle, standing on the scorp’s back. I knew he had charged us on purpose, to give the class a shake. Most of the kids laughed, acting like they hadn’t been scared. The new kid frowned and crossed his arms as sweat dripped from his long black hair. He must’ve been dying in the heat without a brim.

Theo jumped to the ground beside his scorp, its body about level with my brother’s chest. He pulled off his neurohelmet, painted the same unreflective black as the scorp’s armor, and set it in the gyrosaddle.

Cadet Calliope Francis Turner, he said to me, pulling on his own brown brim to protect against the sun. I don’t recall asking for your comments. Drop.

I’m not a cadet yet, Theophilus Corbin Turner. And I’m not dropping for any pushups, so don’t flare out.

The more you sweat in training, the less you bleed in combat, Theo said, acting like a drill sergeant. Let’s go, Callie. Push ’em out.

I’m not in training yet, Theo!

My teacher, Mrs. Bishop, cleared her throat and brushed dust off her coveralls, which were a darker beige than those my class and I wore. We all wore matching SPF technical shirts under our coveralls that protected us from some of the sun’s rays. With our brims on, we all appeared fairly similar. Most of us hadn’t shaved our heads yet though. Some people had longer hair falling from beneath their hats. Not me. I kept my black hair short, really short, but not yet the buzz cut I’d be given as soon as I was accepted into one of the military schools in the next few years.

Let’s bring some order back to the class, please, Mrs. Bishop said. Sergeant Turner was gracious enough to spend this time with us before his launch on Sunday morning, can we please show him proper respect? Including from his younger sister?

Theo gave me a secret wink. I stuck my tongue out at him, which I wouldn’t normally do because it’s immature, but he’s my brother. Then I winked back.

Mrs. Bishop moved to stand between the class and Theo’s scorp. Let’s get started . . . .

Theo stood beside her at parade rest: feet apart and hands behind his back. His tan utility coveralls were pressed into creases so tight they looked like they could cut skin. His mega-scorpion stood still like a parked car, stinger curled backward in what Theo called the safety position. Even though the scorp wasn’t moving, I swear I could feel him straining against the cords connecting his central nervous system to Theo’s helmet.

Scorps reminded me of a bad dog. The CNS cables act like the leash, even when there’s no pilot in the gyrosaddle wearing the neurohelmet. The cords basically paralyze giant rachs in place.

Except, for just one bat of an eye . . . I could’ve sworn I saw Theo’s scorp move.

I darted my gaze between him and the scorp. Since Theo wasn’t reacting, I decided I was probably just seeing things. The heat in the state of North Mexico can make you see mirages, even when you’re properly hydrated.

I pulled the drinking tube from the shoulder of my hydration backpack and took a long drink. Just in case.

Sergeant, Mrs. Bishop said, would you tell us a few things about your mega-arachnid?

Model Charlie Sierra one niner two, Theo said. Top ground speed is classified, but exceeds ten kilometers per hour. Top dry weight capacity is also classified but exceeds 220 kilograms. This scorp’s callsign is Arik.

What? I heard the new kid say to himself. His brown cheeks were turning red in the heat.

My friend Mary tugged her own pink brim down to better shade her eyes as she whispered to him, Just call it a scorp, you dumb squid. Ay dios mio, where are you from, anyway?

I bit my lip so I wouldn’t laugh. The new kid’s eyes were open wide as he stared at Arik.

Mary raised her hand. If there’s a scramble code, how fast could you get the scorp’s armor on?

Theo smiled charmingly. We don’t scramble, that’s for aircraft. And the armor is called barding.

Sorry, Mary said, sighing like his voice was just so amazing. She was totally crushing on him. How fast can you get the barding on?

Glad you asked. Theo blew two quiet notes on a silver whistle around his neck.

A platoon of giant spiders charged toward the scorp. These mega-spiders, which had hung back behind Arik like a herd of miniature cattle, now raced forward. Their knees pumped up and down like the hammers inside a piano. They were a lot smaller than the scorp, only about the size of a café table. They swarmed over Arik’s body.

These mega-arachnids are Nephila megakomaci, Theo said. We call them komacis.

I saw the new kid sound out the word silently, as if memorizing it: ko mah sees.

They’re trained for a variety of tasks, including rigging and removing the barding from our mega-scorps, whether we’re in the field or a rach garage, Theo went on as the komacis removed Arik’s eye shields and battle armor.

I liked the komacis. Dad kept a dozen in our own garage. Their creamy coloring peeked between pretty, dark brown stripes. They behaved like nimble monkeys, with amazing dexterity and precision with their legs, their arm-like pedipalps, and their spinnerets.

The komacis removed Arik’s barding, which looked a lot like seat cushions strapped all over his body. Even though the barding had a soft appearance, it could withstand direct hits from small arms like Theo’s TR-13 assault rifle. It wasn’t easy to take down a scorp wearing barding.

And our enemies overseas in Soldaten knew it.

Those spiders aren’t plugged into anything, the new kid wheezed.

They don’t need to be, I said. They’re trained. They would never hurt you.

So the giant scorpions aren’t trained?

Just listen, all right? This is a War Science class. Pay attention.

Scorps looked like bullies, flexing and swaggering, their eyes narrow and close together. Even parked, scorpions appeared poised, ready to strike. To me, they looked like they physically could not relax. Their claws appeared ready to grab at any second. Their wicked, venomous tails always seemed to be searching for a living target. I understood how using them in the war against Soldaten the had given us the edge in combat.

As Theo went on, I noticed a giant tarantula climbing the wall of our school building.

My rach! Awesome.

Goliath was my mega-spider. Kind of a pet, I guess. He crawled up the side of our two-story school building about a hundred yards away. Golly stopped right in the middle of the pale adobe wall, then turned in a full three-sixty circle like an eight-legged clock.

Golly wasn’t enormous by U.S. Office of Arachnids standards. Fully grown now, his cephalothorax and abdomen were only the size of a school desk. His leg span was less than two meters. He was too small to work in construction, mining, or security like the giant wolf spiders or trapdoor spiders, which had been genetically engineered to be larger and stronger.

I was fine with Golly being a pet. He was too cute to be doing manual labor anyway.

I restrained myself from waving at Golly as Theo talked about Arik’s barding. It was like I could feel Golly sending me good thoughts. His fuzzy brown body glimmered beneath the North Mexico sun, making him shine like photos I’d seen of groomed chocolate-colored Labrador dogs.

Let’s see . . . Jacob Morales? Mrs. Bishop said. Have you had a chance to study up? How about you name the mega-scorpion’s external anatomy.

Jacob, the new kid, shook his head. Some of the class laughed. Someone shouted, Whatsamatter, too scared? Let’s go, paradora!

Several kids gasped, including me. Theo gave Jacob a questioning glance, and Mrs. Bishop snapped her fingers at the class.

Being a civilian was one thing. Being a paradora meant you were a traitor. It wasn’t the kind of thing anyone wanted to be called, especially on base.

None of that language in my class! Mrs. Bishop said. Mary Cortez, your turn. Internal organs, please.

Laughing, Mary walked up to Arik as she said, I think that poor squid is going to vómito.

Mary was right. Jacob’s dark brown face had gone from rosy to green. Fear rose off him in waves as clear to me as the ripples along the ground when it was hot—which was all the time. It would be 130 degrees Fahrenheit by late afternoon. And it wasn’t even summer.

I inched toward Jacob while Mary listed off Arik’s internal organs.

Hey, I whispered. You okay?

Sure, he said, but didn’t sound like it. I’ve just never seen so many rachs . . . so close.

There are rachs all over the base. You better get used to them being around.

I’ve never seen a mega-scorpion. Jacob licked his lips. I can’t move. My legs won’t work.

That’s normal, I whispered. Humans have a natural fear of arachnids. We get an automatic terror response when we’re confronted with them.

Jacob broke his stare to look at me.

I nodded. It’s true. We can give in to it, or we can get used to it. It’s like if you had a family dog who went rabid. No matter how comfortable with him you were, your body will still get an adrenalin dump that freezes your legs. That’s what happens with combat scorps like Arik. I pointed quickly toward Theo. My brother has told me stories about whole platoons of Sollies freezing up when a battalion of scorps charged them.

Jacob’s eyes widened. Battalion? How many is that?

Anywhere from three hundred to a thousand. There’s an entire brigade of rachs on post, if you count all the scorps, komacis, wolf spiders, and trappers. That’s around four thousand all together. So, uh—my advice? Get used to them.

Jacob’s upper lip curled as he rubbed his belly with his arms. I decided maybe I’d better change the subject before he really did vómito all over his shoes. Or my boots!

Didn’t you see the wolves at the main gate when you got here? I asked him.

Giant wolf spiders kept the web wall surrounding the base in repair, and helped our soldiers with security.