Nemesis Boxset

by Alexandria Clarke

  “Looks like no one taught you to grapple,” I whisper in her ear.

  Her face is squished against the sweaty, bloody mat. “Get off of me, Holmes.”

  “This is a fair move.” I flip her over, wrap my legs around her waist, and lock her arm out. “Tap out, Halley.”

  “No,” she growls.

  “Tap out or I’ll break your arm,” I warn her. “And then you’ll be the one stuck at camp while I’m out saving the galaxy.”

  She snarls, her butchered lips turning up in a sneer. I bend her arm a little farther.

  “Tap out.”

  At this point, she’s dangerously close to a broken arm. I don’t want to do it—the council will never let me hear the end of it if I break their commander’s arm—but Halley’s being stubborn and there’s no other way to end this match. I brace myself to do it.

  “Attention, citizens and guests of Veritas!”

  The loudspeaker announcement startles everyone. I let go of Halley, and she rolls beyond my grasp. When I chase after her, she holds out a hand to stop me.

  “Wait,” she says. “The council never uses the loudspeaker unless it’s something big.”

  “This is an emergency announcement,” the loudspeaker voice continues. “We regret to inform you that what we feared has come to pass. The International Armament has delivered their alien serum to a large percentage of the galaxy’s population. Reports of half-human, half-alien creatures are flooding in. It is not only children that have been affected, but adults as well. IA has raised an army with powers unknown to us. Please be on high alert as Veritas officials deliberate on this severe matter. Thank you.”

  As the crowd devolves into panic, Halley grabs me by the shoulder and hauls me off the stage. Orion follows behind us, and Vega pushes through the horde to catch up.

  “Where are we going?” I ask.

  “To see the council,” Halley says.

  6

  The council convenes at their regular meeting place in the community center, but no one’s able to sit in their comfortable, ergonomic chairs. Instead, all twenty-five members perform their own version of pacing. Some round the perimeter. Others wear a steady back-and-forth pattern into the stone floor. When we enter, Halley studies her comrades for less than a second before opening her mouth.

  “What the hell are you all doing?” she shouts. “Stop acting like a bunch of alarmed raccoons and get over here. We need to address this.”

  Surprisingly, the council obeys her and gathers at the center of the room. Halley forces me to sit on the bean bag next to hers, as if I’m a member of the council too. Vega sits just beyond the circle, right behind me like a personal bodyguard. No one asks her to leave. They’re all too preoccupied with the dire situation at hand to worry about Vega Major overhearing something she shouldn’t.

  “Details,” Halley demands. “Now.”

  Quell speaks up first. For once, he’s not the fluffy-feathered, pontificating ass he usually is. The seriousness of the situation has dampened his pompous spirit.

  “I’m afraid we don’t know many details,” he says, voice quaking. I’ve never seen him so scared. “We received reports from two separate squadrons approximately ten minutes ago.”

  “Where were the squadrons deployed?”

  “Proioxis and Palioxis.”

  “Makes sense,” I say. Every member of the council turns to look at me. “IA recruits most of their numbers from those two planets. It’s only natural they would start there. Do we know who administered the serum and how they did it so quickly?”

  “It was disguised as a vaccine,” Quell reports. “IA spread rumors of a new alien disease spreading through the galaxy. They required eligible individuals to report to a verified station to receive the vaccination. The alien DNA remained dormant until IA was ready to release their new army. Tonight.”

  “We’ve already seen a spike in deaths on both sides,” another council member—an older woman called Magda—chimes in. “As IA continues to administer the vaccine, we won’t be able to keep up with their numbers. We need a new strategy, something that will either stop IA from altering any more citizens or neutralize the serum altogether.”

  “I asked who administered the serum,” I say, raising my voice. “Who gave the order to deliver the vaccine?”

  Quell looks straight at me. “Your mother.”

  “Then you need me,” I tell the council. “No one knows my mother better than I do. If you want to engineer an antidote to the vaccine, she’s the only one who can do it.”

  “We have plenty of biological engineers here on Adrestia who can manufacture a vaccine,” Quell argues. “We don’t need Gertrude Holmes here.”

  “I beg to differ,” a new voice says. It’s Claudia, having just fought her way through the mad crowd outside to join the council meeting. “My mother is an evil genius. She’s studied the Revellae her entire life. Your biological engineers can’t even begin to understand the madness in her head.”

  “You are not a member of this council, Claudia!” Quell says, his face turning red with frustration. “How many times do I have to remind you of that? You no longer have a say in this room.”

  “Let her speak,” Halley retorts. “I dragged Ophelia in here for this very reason. What better intel could we have on Gertrude Holmes than her own daughters? If you took your head out of your ass for one minute, Quell, you would recognize the advantage we have here. Ophelia, what were you going to say before our reigning asshat interrupted you?”

  “I propose that Veritas send a team to kidnap my mother,” I say, fighting to enunciate around my swollen and severed bottom lip.

  The council mutters to one another.

  “What did you say, young woman?” Magda asks. “I’m afraid I can’t understand you with that horrible injury to your face, and I want to look at you even less.”

  Vega hands me her tub of healing balm. I apply it to my bottom lip. The cut scabs over but doesn’t completely heal itself. It’s enough to get the swelling to go down so I can speak normally.

  “I said we should kidnap my mother,” I repeat. This time, the council understands me, and a flurry of conversation permeates the room. “It’s the only way to ensure we get the proper information about the serum. With my mother’s help, we can formulate an antidote as soon as possible and administer it to those who were affected by the alien DNA.”

  “I was rooting for you,” Halley tells me. “But that’s a pretty shitty idea considering your mother would never consent to helping us reverse her creepy, cross-breeding project.”

  “I can convince her to do so,” I promise. “And if I can’t, then she’s yours to do with what you will. Either way, her absence would be a blow to IA. They would have to reorganize their Intelligence department, which would give us time to come up with an alternate plan if this one doesn’t work.”

  “There are so many problems with your proposal,” Quell informs me. “This is why you have not been permitted to weigh in on important matters or fight for us in the galaxy. You simply do not understand the situation.”

  “Then fill me in, Quell,” I spit at him. “What do you know that I don’t?”

  “We can’t sanction a mission to capture your mother.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because she disappeared as soon as the serum was activated,” he replies with a note of satisfaction. “No one knows where she is. I presume not even you.”

  “That’s impossible,” Claudia says.

  At the same time, I say, “My mother is missing?”

  “As is your half-breed brother,” Quell replies, a note of satisfaction in his voice. He loves delivering this kind of news, especially to any member of the Holmes family. “Who knows what your mother did to him? He’s hardly human anymore.”

  “She injected him with an iteration of the serum too,” I report. “But he was also affected as a baby. He already had the alien mutation. I assume that’s why he has scales now.”

  “It matters not,
” Quell say. “They’re gone. We can’t access them. The positive side to this is that Gertrude Holmes is no longer—”

  “I can assure you they are not gone,” Halley interjects. “Quell, you’re an idiot. If half the Holmes family disappeared right after the serum was released, it’s for a reason. They’re not missing. They’ve gone into hiding.”

  “What about my father?” Claudia asks. It’s the first time I’ve gotten a good look at her in a few weeks. Her face is thin and her eyes have no shine to them, like she’s seen too many things she can’t unsee. She’s been deployed on almost every mission, and each time she leaves Adrestia on her speeder, I wonder if she’ll come back alive. “Is he well?”

  “He disappeared from your family home several hours after Gertrude Holmes was reported missing,” Quell says. “We don’t know if the two incidents are connected.”

  “It’s a toss-up,” I say. “My mother ignored or belittled my father for most of their marriage. Either she has something to do with his disappearance, or he took the opportunity to escape on his own.”

  Quell leans forward in his chair. “It was our understanding that your father was disabled and mute. Do you mean to say he could have been an asset to us this entire time? Is every member of the Holmes family a traitor?”

  “My father was traumatized by the events of his past,” I announce. “He is loyal to this cause, even if he is no longer able to contribute to it. You would do well to count him as a comrade. If we can find him—if he’s with my mother—I would like for you to grant him amnesty and allow him to return to Adrestia.”

  “Absolutely not,” Quell answers.

  “Hold on, Quell,” Magda chimes in. “You may not remember Polonius Holmes, but I certainly do. He is a hero in this galaxy, and he sacrificed a great deal to secure our victory in the Second War.”

  “We did not emerge from the Second War victorious,” Quell reminds her. “Our people were destroyed, and we returned to Adrestia to rot.”

  “We thrived instead,” Magda says. “Look at the community we have built since then. It would not have been possible without Polonius. It is our duty to ensure he lives the rest of his life in good comfort. As for his wife, I do not care to have her on this planet, but if her capture secures us a win, I cannot deny these young women the opportunity to go after their parents. Shall we put it to a vote?”

  The council members nod in agreement. I tug Claudia closer to me. She slips her hand into mine and squeezes hard. In this moment—the both of us seeking permission to find the rest of our family—I feel more like her sister than ever before.

  “The question is the sanctioning of a trip to Harmonia in order to find Polonius, Gertrude, and Laertes Holmes,” Magda announces in a strong tone. “This expedition is to be led by Claudia and Ophelia Holmes. Should they succeed, it could mean winning the upper hand in this war. All in favor?”

  Roughly half of the council’s hands go up. I try to count, but Magda’s mental math is far superior to mine.

  “All opposed?” she asks.

  The first set of hands go down, and a second set goes up. My heart sinks. I can clearly see the second half has more numbers. Magda sighs heavily.

  “Motion denied,” she announces. “You will all regret this.”

  Quell rises from his chair with a smug simper. “I doubt it. Members of the council: let us find an alternate solution to our problems. One that doesn’t involve risky missions with low success rates. Use the day to brainstorm and be prepared to present your ideas tonight at dusk. Agree to adjourn?”

  “Aye,” the council members chorus.

  Everyone moves to leave. I plead with a few of them as they pass by, but the ones who voted no ignore me, and the ones who voted yes only offer me meaningless words of apologies. No one thinks it’s worth fighting Quell for a different outcome.

  “This is bullshit,” I say, once only me, Claudia, and Vega are left in the room. “I thought the council was supposed to make the best decisions for Veritas. We need an active plan, not to sit around on our asses while IA makes further headway.”

  Claudia sinks into a pillow poof, crosses her legs, and rolls onto her back like a dead bug. As she massages her spine against the floor, she says, “That’s the way things work around here, Ophelia. If the council thinks it’s too risky to seek out Mom and Dad, they’re probably right. Don’t worry. By dusk, they’ll have come up with an alternate plan.”

  “Do you tell yourself all that crap about the council because you can’t face the truth?” I ask her. “They’re a bunch of cowards, Claudia. Don’t you see? They’re afraid of us. You and me. If we find Mom first, they assume we’ll align with her. Then the Holmes family would be unstoppable.”

  “I’m not sure that’s why they don’t want you to go,” Vega says. She arranges several pillows into a circle then sits in the middle of them like a bird in a nest. “Don’t get me wrong. Quell is an ass, but he’s a member of the council for a reason. Say he agreed to this trip, the two of you go, and you get killed in the process. Then Veritas is down two crucial members of their cause. We can’t afford to take a hit like that.”

  “We also can’t afford not to try,” I reply.

  “Don’t,” Claudia says.”

  “Don’t what?”

  She examines me from her pillow poof. In her Veritas gear with that enigmatic expression on her face, she’s the spitting image of our father. Perhaps Claudia was always meant to follow in his footsteps and Laertes was meant to follow our mother, but where did that leave me?

  “Don’t try it,” Claudia says. “I see that look in your eye, O. You can’t get around the council, so don’t make the attempt.”

  “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

  “Promise?”

  I raise one hand at eye level and place the other over my heart. “I promise.”

  I sneak out of mine and Vega’s shared bunk as soon as the moon is high enough to see by. My sister’s warning echoes in my head with every step I take toward the airfield, as does the council’s decision. None of it matters to me right now. All I know is we need my mother here on Adrestia. There’s no other way to engineer an antidote to the serum without her. If I’m honest with myself, there’s a bigger reason I’m disobeying the council’s orders. I have a terrible feeling in the pit of my stomach that my father is with my mother, and that she’s planning to kill him as soon as he is no longer useful to her.

  The thought buckles my knees and turns my stomach. I break into a light jog, following the path to the airfield. To my left, the dunes lead to the beach, and I wish I could turn that way and jump into the water for a night swim. I think of Vega, sleeping soundly in our bunk, completely unaware of my actions. For once, I didn’t want to make her my partner-in-crime. She had enough trouble getting Veritas to trust her to begin with, and I wasn’t going to spoil her relationship with the community now. Furthermore, this trip to Harmonia would be the most dangerous I’ve ever embarked on, and I don’t want Vega to get caught in the crosshairs. Still, I feel infinitely lonely as I reach the airfield on my own.

  The speeders are lined up next to the cargo ships. Veritas has collected quite an impressive fleet. Some of the speeders are top-of-the-line models, built by companies and technicians of the outer planets. Others are Wasps that have been stolen directly from IA. Though I tend to favor the Wasp, it’s a less-than-quiet ship. With its loud engine and prominent guns, it’s meant for attacking and escaping. There’s nothing stealthy to it except for its pointed nose and angled wings.

  The next speeder in line is a Nebula Starshriek. Nebula makes some of the most expensive warships in the galaxy, but rumor has it the company only sells them to buyers they already have a relationship with. I’ve heard about the Starshriek before. Its name is ironic; the speeder is said to be the quietest, deadliest night fighter available. Furthermore, every Nebula aircraft has a built-in camouflage feature. People say by the time you see a Nebula in the sky, it’s already too late.

  I d
on’t have access to any of the speeders that belong to Veritas. I haven’t been cleared to fly or fight or do anything else useful, but in order to pilot the Starshriek, I need the correct codes to fire up the speeder’s engines. Little does Claudia know, I swapped her gloves with mine when we sat next to each other at dinner earlier that evening. Hers fit a bit loosely on my hands, but our DNA is a close enough match not to trigger the gloves’ defense mechanism.

  I press my palm against the reader on the side of the Starshriek, and the cockpit window slides back to admit me. I climb into the bucket seat and get settled. The Starshriek is the most luxurious speeder I’ve ever sat in. The pilot’s seat is made of plush leather and perfectly accommodates my spine. Behind me, there’s room for three more people. Most speeders fit two people at most: the pilot and a navigator. From the outside, no one would know the Starshriek is so roomy.

  I glide my hands over the control panel and the joysticks. Everything is so well-organized and presented. I feel like I’m back at the Academy, ready to press the start button on one of their flight simulations. I wrap my hand around the right joystick. It’s like it was made for me. With a grin, I lean forward to press my gloved finger to the print reader, ready to fire up the speeder for my maiden Starshriek voyage.

  The glove constricts around my wrist. I lean back, away from the print reader, and it releases again. I lean forward and reach again—the glove tightens. The closer I get to the print reader, the more the fabric clenches around my bones. I push against the force, my face reddening with the effort. When my finger is an inch away from the print reader, the glove emits a foul, bright-green gas right in my face. It fills the cockpit in a matter of seconds.

  The gas burns my eyes and lungs. Coughing and spluttering, I slam my fist on the cockpit release button, and the glass slides back. I lift myself out of the green cloud and swallow lungful after lungful of fresh air. As the gas dissipates, I see Claudia sitting on the top step of the ladder I used to get into the Starshriek.