Nemesis Boxset

by Alexandria Clarke

  Another Vengeance heads at me straight-on. I grin and grasp the joysticks tighter. If this guy wants a game of chicken, he’s got one. We both fire up our blasters, and I watch his cannons bloom with indigo light. I keep the Starshriek steady. We zoom toward each other. Closer, closer—

  The Vengeance fires, and I yank the Starshriek straight up. Rain drums on the cockpit. I can’t see a thing, but I hear the Vengeance’s blast hit one of its other squadron members. I pull the Starshriek into a loop, doubling back to finish off the first Vengeance from behind.

  “Ha!” I say as it explodes.

  “On your flank, Ophelia!” Halley yells into my earpiece.

  My moment of celebration costs me. Another Vengeance lowers from the clouds, right behind me, and fires. The blast takes out the left wing of the Starshriek and sends me spinning. I can smell the fire as it creeps toward the cockpit. The speeder plummets, the ground rushing up from below. No matter how much I try, I can’t get the damn thing under control.

  “Eject, eject, eject!”

  With a deep breath, I punch the eject button. The cockpit glass goes flying, and I get ripped from my seat. The rocket boosters propel me away from the crash site as the Starshriek hits the ground and explodes. A parachute deploys above me. There’s no time to catch my breath or think about my near-death experience. I pull out my blaster as I coast to the ground, right in the middle of the battle.

  “Status, Holmes!” Halley shouts, panicked.

  “Alive!” I report. A half-Revellae student charges me as I struggle to get out of the flight vest, still attached to the parachute. I aim my blaster at her and shoot one-handed. The opalite bullet hits her in the shin. She goes down as my DNA spreads through her bloodstream, and her alien features fade away. I grab her gray IA student vest and haul her closer. “You can thank me later for sparing your life,” I shout at her over the noise of war. “Where’s Gertrude Holmes? Where is my mother?”

  “She took over the lab in the Defense building after hers blew up,” the girl reports, gasping for air as her body transmogrifies. “West wing. Sub-level.”

  I drop the girl but take the shield off her wrist and slip it onto my own. When I activate it, a blue forcefield, about four feet in length, deploys. I use it to protect my blind side as I fight my way through the warzone. The Defense building smolders in the background of the battle. Our bombs took out the structural supports. I fight my way around to the back, where it looks safer to enter.

  Inside, the building is nearly deserted. Most of the fight has been taken onto the Academy’s lawn. I keep my face mask on to filter dust and debris out of my breathing air. Concrete taps on my helmet as I trek through the mess, sweeping my blaster back and forth to scan for potential enemies. I locate the stairs to the sub-level and head down. Of course, my mother would find the deepest part of the Academy and hide out there. Below ground level, the sound of battle fades to subtle thuds and booms. The emergency generators have kicked on in the dark corridor. I follow it to the very end, where the door to the laboratory is open.

  “Mom?” I call, edging in with my blaster at the ready. “It’s your favorite daughter, ready for round two. Or is this round three? I’ve lost count.”

  “In here, Ophelia.”

  I make my way around the lab. The vibrations from above have knocked glass and chemicals to the floor. I step carefully to avoid the spills. Knowing my mother, those solutions are anything but safe. At the door to a storage room, I pause and glance around the corner.

  My mother lies on an exam table, propped up on several pillows. An IV needle feeds green liquid into her arm. On either side, she’s flanked by a real live Revellae. It’s the first time I’ve seen the aliens opposite up close—aside from the dead one my mother used to keep in her office for experiments—and they are terrifying. Eight feet tall and covered in hard scales from head to toe, the Revellae are the perfect, nightmarish combination of humanoid and alien. I raise my blaster.

  “Don’t!” my mother cries.

  It’s too late. I fire twice, right at the creatures’ necks, where a tiny lapse in their scales makes for a perfect target. Greenish-brown blood spurts and coats my armor. The fabric and shell sizzle, like the Revellae’s blood is acidic. My mother—the picture of weakness a moment ago—leaps from the exam table and pins me to the wall. I don’t have time to get my shield up in time. She rips it from my arm, and the blue forcefield goes dark.

  “They didn’t attack,” I huff, nodding at the dead Revellae. “No weapons even. What were you doing down here?”

  My mother taps the needle mark on her arm. “Direct blood transfusion. When I heard your troops were on their way, I knew drastic measures had to be taken.”

  “That’s suicide.”

  “Is it?”

  As I watch, my mother grows taller. Her back straightens and her shoulders broaden. Green scales appear on her forehead and travel downward, coating her body. Her nails elongate into reptilian claws. She clenches my arms, piercing through my armor.

  “I engineered another serum for myself,” she whispers as she changes. “One that would help my body adapt to this transformation. With the Revellae’s DNA inside me, I will be the most powerful person in this galaxy.”

  She presses against me, her forearm against my throat. I struggle to breathe. “It’s too late. It’s over, Mom,” I say. “You can’t beat us.”

  “Maybe not alone,” she snarls. “But the Revellae themselves are coming to defend IA. All they need is the signal from me.”

  She slams my head against the wall and runs out. My helmet takes the brunt of the hit. I spring to my feet and run after my mother. Another thud rocks the building, and the basement corridor begins to cave in. Gertrude reaches the stairs and escapes. I put on a burst of speed, but it’s not enough. The corridor gives way, and I dive back into the laboratory to avoid being crushed by the weight of the building. When everything settles and the dust clears, a single beam of sunlight illuminates the wreckage. I climb over the ruined stones and look up. A tiny hole leads to the world above. I boost myself up and force myself through, the jagged rocks tearing through my clothes.

  Aboveground, the battle rages on. Veritas is making progress. The half-alien army falls one at a time, and the ground is littered with recovering IA soldiers. None of them are in any condition to pick up a blaster, but one close to me tries anyway. I kick the gun out of his hand. Across the lawn, I spot my mother working her way through the crowd. She takes down Veritas ground soldiers as if they’re no more than marshmallows. Suddenly, Claudia steps into her path.

  “Cloud, no!” I shout, cutting down more IA soldiers to get to my sister.

  Gertrude looms over her eldest daughter. As Claudia raises her blaster, Gertrude raises her hand. My mother is quicker, swiping her new claws across Claudia’s face. The alien talons cut deep gashes across Claudia’s skin, ripping into her nose and eye. I let out a scream of rage and dismay and charge at my mother from behind. Claudia drops, cradling her bleeding face, as I vault onto my mother’s back and aim my blaster at the back of her neck. Before I can fire, she flips me over, and I land face-up on the ground next to Claudia.

  “My daughters,” Gertrude spits at us. “Such disappointments. You can’t stop me now. The Revellae are upon us.”

  The unmistakable hum of an enormous ship emanates from the sky, and the Revellae’s aircraft appears. It’s twice the size of a battleship, neon green, and armed with the biggest cannons I’ve ever seen. As it lowers, aiming to land next to the ruined Academy, the battle on the ground slows. Everyone turns toward the alien ship, mouths agape and their eyes reflecting nothing but fear. Once the Revellae land, Veritas has no chance of winning this battle.

  “You made a mistake in siding with the rebels,” my mother says, raising her hand to strike again. “Any last words, my dear children?”

  A dark shadow crosses the land.

  “Yeah,” I say. “You’re done.”

  I point up, where the shadow forms
a shape, and that shape is The Impossible. Saint Rita’s aging battleship barrels across the sky and rams the Revellae’s ship in a kamikaze maneuver. When the two ships collide, the remaining opalite Saint Rita had stashed on The Impossible explodes. Screams echo from the ground as both ships vanish in a cloud of indigo dust and fire. Slowly, the massive aircrafts fall out of the sky and land in a burning heap.

  “No!” my mother roars.

  I aim for the last time. Claudia reaches over and places her bloody hand on top of mine. We fire together, and the opalite bullet lands right in the center of our mother’s forehead.

  Epilogue

  “General Holmes?”

  “Come in,” I call, swiveling in my desk chair to face the door. Paperwork is spread far and wide across my desk, the test results from my latest opalite study. I haven’t been bothered to organize it yet.

  Pandora, my assistant, enters. “Your father’s here. He doesn’t have a meeting, and I know you were planning on heading to the lab soon, but he’s insistent.”

  “It’s fine.” I attempt to stack my papers, but they elude my grasp. “Ugh. Why did we decide to print things again? Whatever happened to e-storage? This is how we killed Earth.”

  Pandora hurries over to collect my notes. “I’ll digitize these and recycle them for you. Does that sound appropriate?”

  “Thank you, Pandora,” I say. “Make a note to approach the Conclave later this week. I want a better system put in place to eliminate paper-making. We have to stop repeating mistakes like this.”

  “Yes, General Holmes.”

  “How many times do I have to ask you to call me Ophelia?” I pull on my coat and adjust the collar so it sits neatly around my neck. “I’m not a war hero.”

  “But you are.”

  “Semantics.”

  I leave Pandora to clean and find my father sitting in the waiting room outside my office. He looks good for a man who lived through a partial disembowelment. Though his frame remains too skinny for my liking, his face is plump and healthy. With the help of Doctor Nova’s technological advancements, he no longer needs his wheelchair.

  “My girl,” he says, pulling me against his side for a quick hug. “It’s good to see you.”

  “You too. I’m heading to the lab, Dad. What can I do for you?”

  We jog down the steps to the lower levels of the building. Like every day, I admire the craftsmanship of the new architecture. Since the battle five years ago, the willing survivors banded together and created a new democratic government. The Conclave, as its leaders are called, were elected from Veritas and IA soldiers alike. Together, we rebuilt Harmonia and the rest of the galaxy to reflect our newly united forces. I live and work on Harmonia, in the Science and Exploration building.

  “Can’t a man check in on his daughter?” Polonius says, huffing to keep up with me. “I wanted to see how everyone’s doing. Where’s that sister of yours?”

  “She’s in a meeting with Halley.”

  “Is she ever not in a meeting?”

  “That’s what happens when you’re the head honcho of the entire galaxy’s armed forces,” I remind him with a grin. “She always loved bossing people around.”

  “And Vega? What’s your girl up to today?”

  “New student orientation,” I tell him. “It’s her favorite day of the year. I was going to bring lunch to her later. Would you like to join?”

  “No, I’ll leave you ladies to it.”

  We cross the atrium, and I glance skyward. It’s a beautiful day. The sun shines with a pale determination. The atrium mimics the weather, bringing the feeling of outside in for those of us who work all day in an office. Today, a brisk breeze floats by, chilly enough to give me goosebumps. The crisp scent of changing leaves hangs in the air.

  “I know you’re not here just to chat,” I tell my father. “Ask me what you really want to ask me.”

  “Fine,” he consents. “How are you doing? Are you managing?”

  I lead him through another corridor to reach my private laboratory. “My opalite studies are going well. I think I’ve come up with an even safer way to handle it. If I cut it with another substance—”

  “As interesting as your work is, Ophelia,” my father begins, “I was asking about your health.”

  I let him into my lab and take a deep breath. The sulfurous smell of opalite lingers, but I find it more comforting than off-putting. My lab looks nothing like my mother’s. There are no autopsied creatures or specimens in jars. Instead, the place is full of opalite crystals. Some are harmless, the mineral no longer active, and some are lethal, locked away in special clear cases. Everywhere you look, natural sunlight glints off the indigo stones, casting pretty reflections across the white walls.

  “It’s the same as ever,” I assure my father. “Not worse or better. The Purifier pump and my own genetics are keeping the opalite from taking over my body. I’m fine, I swear.”

  “Just checking.” He lingers in the doorway and checks his Monitor. “Ah, crap. I’m due for a meeting. Revellae peace treaty nonsense.”

  “Go make some peace.”

  He waves and heads out. My shoulders drop as soon as he disappears, and I lower myself into the chair behind my lab desk. A picture of me, Vega, and Claudia—taken on the day this building was opened—sits across from me. We look happy and exhausted. Claudia’s face is divided by five pink scars. They’ve faded since then, but the picture reminds me of everything we could’ve lost five years ago.

  I pull up the sleeve of my shirt, tie a tourniquet around my arm with the help of my teeth, and prick the vein with a small needle. My blood—dark purple and glittery—fills the syringe. I place a droplet in a slide then slip it under a microscope to observe it.

  “Still dying,” I mutter, watching the opalite eat away at my blood cells. “Slowly, but surely.”

  The truth is I can’t stop the opalite from taking over my body, which is why I’m doing the work no one else can do. I won’t stop until I find a safe way to process opalite, even if it means accelerating my own death. Everyone knows I’m on my way out of this world—it’s obvious in my pale skin and thinning figure—but we’ve all chosen to ignore the inevitable and make the most of what we have now.

  The lab door chimes, and Vega walks in. She carries two lunch trays and wears a big smile.

  “Surprise,” she says, setting the trays on my desk. “Brought your favorite. No pastries in sight.”

  “I was going to surprise you today!” I protest. “I thought you’d be busy with the new kids.”

  She draws her chair close to mine and hands me a set of utensils. “I am, but they’re on an hour break. Plenty of time to eat with you.” She taps my tray. “Come on, get to it! I don’t have all day.”

  I take the utensils and tuck a napkin into the front of my shirt as Vega dives into her lunch. I don’t eat right away. I just watch my best friend with a stupid grin on my face, wondering how we managed to make it all the way to where we are today.

  Thank you so much for taking the time to read my story!

  Writing has always been a passion of mine and it’s incredibly gratifying and rewarding whenever you give me an opportunity to let you escape from your everyday surroundings and entertain the world that is your imagination.

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  Again, thank you so much for letting me into your world. I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I did writing it!

  Agent Hill: Off The Grid

  by James Hunt

  1

  Nothin
g but wilted shrubs sprouted up from the desert earth around the warehouse. Sarah loaded a magazine into the Colt 1911 and checked her ammo count from behind an old, rusted sewer pipe. The lightweight black Kevlar jacket she wore concealed the two holsters underneath, as well as the grey cloth tank top, as she holstered the 1911. Her ensemble was meant for function, not style, all the way from the hair tie to the modified steel-toed boots on her feet.

  A light twinge triggered in her knee, and her palm quickly found the outline of the scar over the light cloth of her pants. She grimaced in annoyance and peeked over the rusted pipe to get a good look at the shambled warehouse in front of her. She’d checked the perimeter and knew that the group of Mercedes and BMWs at the entrance didn’t mesh with the sagging, abandoned structure.

  “How’s the knee?” Bryce asked.

  The same grimace from her knee twinge spread across her face as she pawed her left ear, where a small black dot was situated on the upper inside of her ear. “What are you, my mother?” Sarah asked. “It’s fine. Now be quiet. I’m trying to get in the zone out here.”

  “It’s all right if you’re nervous. It’s your first day back.”

  “I’m not nervous,” Sarah reiterated, her firm tone matching the expression on her face. “I’m doing recon.”

  “From behind a sewer pipe?”

  Sarah thrust her hand into the sky and forced her middle finger up in the most powerful, indignant salute she could muster. “Did you get that?”

  “Yeah, I copy.”

  The radio went silent, and Sarah took a deep breath. Then she sprinted from the side of the sewer pipe to the dumpster nestled below a window on the side of the warehouse. Her knee popped lightly from the sudden motion. She limped the first few steps, pissed off at the fact her body was whining about the exercise. Without breaking stride, she jumped onto the dumpster’s lid and pushed the already-broken window open, lifting herself inside.