No one knows where the Nemesis fleet—the name given to it by the Luminae centuries ago—originally came from. It's been said that once, a historian had tried to communicate with the fleet's brain-ship, its core, and asked what the creatures called their own species.
"We" was the response.
Over the centuries, planets fought back. Some battled well. The Nemesis fleet lost many ships, like fingers from a hand, or more aptly, like hairs from a head. The fleet grew more ships, tearing apart the living matter of inhabited worlds and turning that substance into extensions of itself.
And like some great beast shuffling off to be born, the fleet would move on, looking for its next meal.
To call it a fleet was, in many ways, not accurate. Alien philosophers and scientists had pointed out over the years it is not composed of ships and commanded by a hive-like mind, with only very specific parts of the whole able to act with true autonomy. It did resemble a fleet, with its little fighters and its mother ships, but these were living creatures, extensions of a greater biological presence, depending on and supporting each other like organs and cells.
It became a swarm of locusts, moving as one creature, feeding one hunger, pursuing one relentless goal.
While no one knows where or how the Nemesis fleet came to be, survivors of their attacks have long speculated about its origins. Some claim it was a biological weapon, created by some ancient race, destroyed by their own creation, the fleet's first meal and victim. Others wonder if it began as a singular creature, eating its home world until all of its resources were gone, and then took to the stars for more. Still others suggested it was a disease, a cancerous growth, forever multiplying and destroying, death through biology.
The more esoteric sort saw something darker in it. The remorseless hunger of the creatures making up the fleet felt demonic to them, the fleet itself some sort of hell-spawned devil.
But few worlds that encountered the fleet had time for such speculation. Planets which had not yet taken to the stars, for whom the arrival of the Nemesis fleet marked both their first and last encounter with an alien species. These beings soon watched the stars blacked out in the night sky, or saw the shadow of a great beast rumble in front of their sun, and all they had time for was terror and death.
The deaths of these worlds silenced those philosophers who sometimes spoke up, among the Luminae and others, and postulated that the fleet was some sort of immune system for the cosmos, a natural thing, destroying worlds that no longer served a purpose, cutting off dead limbs from the tree of life. And some worlds destroyed by the fleet were in fact dark and horrible places, where the living committed atrocities upon each other all the while citing culture and courage. There were even times the Luminae wanted the Nemesis fleet to take those worlds.
But others were just babies in the blanket of the universe, young children beneath stars they had not yet named, innocent of what occurs in the galaxy above them. When the fleet took one of those worlds, it snuffed out all its potential. All its hope.
These were the fears of Straylight and of Horizon, and of all their human partners, looking up in the night sky, waiting and watching. Wondering if their world, their home, would be one that never reached for the sky, one that died in ignorance, or one that, through violence and brutality, seemed to earn the cold and silent wrath of the Nemesis fleet.
And in quiet moments, both Luminae would pray that, like a swimmer who never senses the shark that brushes under his feet in the ocean and returns to shore blind to the danger he had been susceptible to, the fleet would swim by an unaware Earth in favor of a different meal.
But Earth glowed blue and bright in the crosshairs of the fleet, the singular attention of the vast many-mouthed beast. This planet had been prepared by children of the fleet sent ahead to scout, to make ready, to find the things they would want to keep and the things it should consume. They travel a great distance on their journey to this world.
Hungry, it was unstoppable and more than ready.
Chapter 50:
All in one place
Some day, Billy thought, I'll figure out why I still get nervous when knocking on my own parents' door.
He rapped his knuckles softly. Staring up from shin-level, Watson gave him a disapproving look.
He knows what I'm doing, Dude, Billy thought.
Of course he does. Canines are particularly perceptive Earth creatures.
He knows what I'm doing and he's giving me the guilty eyes, Billy thought.
You say that like you've never done the same thing to me.
I can't look you in the eyes! Billy thought.
You have, in fact, looked in the mirror, making sad puppy dog eyes, to try to manipulate me in the past, Billy Case. Don't act like you haven't.
A potential argument was quickly adverted by Billy's mom yelling from inside.
"Are you seriously knocking on the door? Just come in! What is wrong with you. I've failed as a parent," she said.
"I just want to announce my arrival," Billy said, opening the screen door and letting Watson take the lead. The little dog charged forward, hitting the end of his leash, straining against the harness. Billy unclipped him and the terrier sprint deeper into the house.
"Announce your arrival," Lori Case said, walking into the living room from the kitchen.
"Hey, I don't know what you guys are up to when I'm not here," Billy said.
"Oh you wouldn't believe the things we do," Lori said.
"Mom!" Billy said, appalled.
She just smirked.
His father walked in, looked at the dog, glanced up at Billy, then down at the dog again, before returning his eyes to his son.
"Is that an overnight bag you have in your hand?" Al Case said.
"Maybe."
"An overnight bag for your dog?" Al said.
"Don't judge me," Billy said.
"I'm your father, I'll judge all I want," Al said. "Your dog has a Star Wars themed overnight bag."
"Emily wanted him to have a Hello Kitty bag for irony's sake, but I vetoed that," Billy said.
"Somehow, that would have been better."
"I'm guessing you have your dog and the bag because…" his mom said.
"Yeah, things are about to get bad. I'll feel better if he's here with you guys," Billy said.
Watson whined. Al sat down on the couch. The dog leapt into his lap and curled up comfortably.
"You've been in bad spots before," his father said. "Are you just being melodramatic, or should we be concerned?"
Billy shrugged. "Your only son is a superhero. I'd rather you not worry, but I don't think anyone would blame you at this point."
"Where's Emily?" his mother asked.
"She's checking in on Melinda," Billy said. "You guys still have Sam Barren's number?"
"On the fridge," Lori said.
"I'm serious about calling him if you need help. He knows you have his contact information, so don't be shy about it."
"You really think I'm going to be shy about anything?" Al Case said.
Billy smiled.
"So this is where I say I'm really sorry about not growing up to take over the hardware store for you," Billy said.
Al laughed.
"Are you kidding? I was going to sell it to pay for my retirement anyway. You were never going to inherit the business."
"What?" Billy said.
"He's kidding!" Lori said, shooting Al a dirty look.
"Are you sure?" Billy said.
"I'm always kidding," Al said. "Your mother blames your sass mouth on me, you know."
"Apple, tree," she said.
"Besides, if you do what you seem to be planning on doing, it'll be because of you and your friends I'll still have a store to care about next week," Al said.
"Yeah," Billy said, looking at his parents and his silly little dog coiled on his father's lap. "If we don't blow it, maybe everyone will get to keep their normal lives."
"And if you do blow it?" his father sai
d.
"Well, I don't think anyone will have the time to complain about our collective incompetence," Billy said.
Chapter 51:
The talisman
Jane opened up the storage closet in her room and pulled out a drawer resting along the bottom of the space. Inside lay shirts sweaters, and winter clothes she rarely needed, because her powers caused her to run so hot most of the time that the cold never bothered her. She'd wear warm clothes in order to fit in, winter coats and scarves and wool hats, but the same elements that allowed her to create fire with her hands also kept the chill away from her skin. And so she had drawers full of nice clothes during the winter months she never really bothered with.
Folded neatly on top of these sweaters and flannel shirts was something else entirely: the uniform of her future self, the older, wiser Solar she'd met when the team traveled into an alternate future.
In that timeline she hadn't survived the final battle and sacrificed herself to save the world from an out of control version of Emily. The remaining teammates had given Jane her older self's spare uniform as a keepsake. A white bodysuit framed in black on the sleeves, chest, and back, with a golden sunburst emblem on the front, it stood as a far cry from her usual costume, the red and gold outfit, complete with cape and skirt designed to be a nod to an earlier and more innocent sort of hero.
The Jane in that dark future had been more utilitarian, and the black and white felt more symbolic of a world on the verge of collapse.
The suit they'd given her on that occasion had never been worn. An old spare costume, held onto—just in case—and tucked away for safe-keeping. The future heroes thought Jane might like it, in case she ever had a need to be inspired.
She kicked off her shoes and undressed, pulling on the black and white costume carefully. She was surprised when it fit perfectly, though, she mused, that should be the least surprising thing in the world. It seemed strange to be in a one-piece, and she felt somewhat incomplete without her cape as well, but she looked in the mirror; the simple colors of the suit contrasted with the flame-like nature of her hair and she did, in fact, feel inspired. It was as if she were seeing that future version of herself, who'd been so brave and self-sacrificing.
Emily revealed during their time in that dark tomorrow that she had seen only one Jane. A hero.
She turned and headed down the hallway, seeking out Doc's lair. She found him mulling over that strange book he'd obtained from the Lady.
"Find anything good?" she asked.
Doc placed a silk bookmark on the page and closed it.
"There are spells in there that I never want to see cast on this planet," Doc said.
"Good thing you're going to practice them in outer space, huh?" Jane said.
Doc folded his arms across his chest and leaned back on his table.
"You're determined to do this, aren't you?"
"I think I can buy us some time," Jane said. "And believe I can sneak in and out of there safely. If I can get them talking…"
"We don't know if they'll even understand you, but… I get it. You meet with them, maybe you can assess what their defenses are," Doc said. "I'd like to go with you."
"You and I both know it'll be easier if things go bad for me to just punch my way out," Jane said. "And If I'm captured you'll come save me."
"Our track record has you rescuing me a lot more than me saving you, Jane," Doc said.
"Well then, you owe me," Jane said.
Doc pushed himself away from the table and went over to another part of the room, covered in trinkets and small magical items. Emily called it costume jewelry, but Jane had, over the years, seen Doc use these items like magical tools, conduits for arcane powers. Doc called them shortcuts and talismans. He picked one up, a golden pendant on a thin chain, a large opal dominated the center of the circular design.
"Take this with you," Doc said.
"Parting gift?" Jane asked.
"No," Doc said. "A get out of jail free card."
He turned the item over in his hands a few times then gave it to Jane. Cool to the touch, strange runes covered the metal.
"Do I talk into it?"
"I meant to make one for Billy before he left, actually, but he took off before I could put the materials together," Doc said. "Lucky for us, I had time to finish it without you sneaking off."
Jane ran her thumb over the opal, trying to figure out how to activate it.
"You crush it," Doc said.
"I crush it?"
He nodded.
"If things go bad, you crush that opal in your hand. It contains a teleportation spell. One use. A free ride home," Doc said.
"A teleportation spell," Jane said.
"Simple as that. If you break that stone, the spell will activate. I've set it to bring the user back to Earth."
"Here, in the Tower?" Jane asked.
He shook his head.
"I didn't know what might happen to the Tower, if we have to move it or ground it. You'll appear in the Labyrinth parking lot."
"That is so not the homecoming I want if I have to use this thing," Jane said.
"It's the one place I know where you'll have allies and that won't go floating away somewhere," Doc said.
"The parking lot?"
"You'd rather it be inside?"
"No," Jane said. "Parking lot works."
"Plus just in case you're… hurt in any way. You'll be near help."
"I want to give you a hard time for being such a pessimist about this, but you're being too thoughtful about what could go wrong," Jane said.
Doc opened his arms graciously. "It's what I'm here for," he said.
Jane wrapped him in a hug.
"You'll get everyone ready?" Jane said as he returned her embrace.
"Of course. And you'll be careful."
"Sure," Jane said. "What possibly could go wrong, flying directly at an invading alien army?"
"I can't imagine," Doc said.
Jane stepped back. They stared at each other for a long moment.
"This never gets easier," Doc said. "When I brought you all together, I thought I'd eventually just come to understand you're all good at what you do, and you know what you're doing, and you'll all be safe."
"But then we wouldn't have you worrying about us all the time," Jane said. "And frankly, as the resident worrier around here, it's nice to know someone else is in a state of perpetual anxiety as well."
Doc took the pendant from Jane's hand and draped it over her head
"Don't forget that," he said. "You leaving now?"
"There's not a lot of time for dawdling," Jane said.
"Walk you to the landing bay?"
"You better."
She took his hand.
Doc looked down at their entwined fingers, his expression confused, sad and nostalgic all at once.
Jane beamed a smile, doing her very best to fake as much confidence as possible.
"This is what you taught me to do, Doc," Jane said.
"I know," he said. "It's just . . . sometimes I wonder if I did too good a job."
Chapter 52:
Beauty in this world
Kate sat in the dark and watched the second movement of the Third Symphony of Gustav Mahler at the City Performing Arts Center. Professional dancers swam across the stage with the strength of Olympic athletes and the weightlessness of butterflies. She sometimes wondered what it would have been like to grow up to be one of them, the way her life had been intended once upon a time. But on this reflection, like on most things, Kate had grown incapable of dwelling. It just was not in her nature to regret anymore. Regretting, she thought, was a loss of control over a small piece of yourself.
Titus sat next to her, his luminous golden eyes reflected the stage lights back like an animal's. This she could not get used to. Sometimes, while in the dark, she'd see his eyes before she saw him, two glowing spheres in the blackness, reminding her that he was not human, that they were not the same.
But
he held her hand anyway, and that was okay.
Jane gave them the tickets before she left for outer space. Kate didn't want to take them.
"Why are you doing this?" she asked, looking at the tickets Jane handed her as if they were written in another language.
"Because it's the end of the world again, and you should see one more ballet just in case, I told you this already," Jane said.
"But why give me tickets?" Kate asked.
"Just go to the theater and sit with your boyfriend and recharge," Jane said, her smile never wavering.
"I hate when you call him my boyfriend," Kate said.
"Kate Miller, can't you just for one moment relax and enjoy the fact that someone in this world loves you?" Jane said.
"No," Kate said. "I have… a really hard time with this."
There was no anger in Jane's voice during the exchange. She truly did want Kate to find happiness. Whether through Titus or on her own. Some days Kate wondered if this was on some sort of list of goals Jane kept for herself.
The problem, Kate realized, was that she never even tried to be happy. Maybe she could, if she wanted to. She understood Titus suffered from clinical depression. They'd talked about it. He'd been in treatment, quietly, for a long time and eventually discovered that it was a particularly common trait in werewolves, that something inherent in their nature led to a tendency toward depression. But he knew how to be happy. Sitting with him, while taking in the spectacle of the show, joy graced his face. He reveled in something beautiful despite knowing nothing about it.
Kate leaned back and turned her full attention to the stage, the way the dancers mirrored each other, the finesse, style and power of their actions. She was struck by how much of their movements seemed like her own, how much dance remained a part of her despite the violence of her life. As a child, she had danced like a fighter, and as an adult, she fought like a dancer, and the two were forever intertwined in her life.
She released Titus's hand to flex her fingers. Sometimes, the pain caught up to her. Not the pain from her crime fighting days—though there were certainly enough injuries to haunt her there. But the injuries from the car crash, the result of an attempted carjacking that cost Kate her parents and her dancing career, those injuries welled up in the dark, in old bone breaks and scar tissue. Though in nearly constant pain since the accident, she got up, every day, and danced, and fought, time and time again.
Like A Comet: The Indestructibles Book 4 Page 24
