The bolt struck amongst the PDF, causing untold damage and chaos, explosively imploding shields, exploiting structural weaknesses in joints, and melting hardened electronics. The lightning strike was followed by a thunderclap, a terrible explosion that picked up and threw thousand ton war machines like little kid’s toys in the hands of their god. Entire ranks of armor were instantaneously obliterated where they stood.
Beyond it all, Nemesis glowed with seemingly preternatural strength. The lightning strike had again supercharged its shields, infusing the beating heart of its fusion core with nearly unlimited power. The darkness around the Mech armor seemed to grow tenfold, as much a deception from the unleashing of the lightning strike as any natural evolution. However, the imaginations of the ones facing off against Nemesis, took full control, rendering them hapless and frozen with absolute dread.
With a single smooth motion, Nemesis tipped the giant katana downward, piercing the ground several feet deep, carving a straight line from one side to the other. Nemesis then sheathed the giant katana deep in the Martian soil, standing tall with both hands clasped around the handle, unmoving.
Another bolt of lightning pierced the hell black sky, paving the way for a ball of fire making its way through the oppressive cumulus of death and war. The lightning dissipated just below the cloud layer, while the ball of fire continued descending, hurtling straight towards Nemesis.
Nemesis raised its arms shoulder breadth apart as if in obeisance to the advent of its god. The volume of fire around the ball increased as reverse thrusters fired several thousand feet from the ground. The roiling ball of fire finished its descent, coupling onto the back of Nemesis, red and orange flames washing across the Martian soil, temporarily occluding all sight.
As the flames subsided, the PDF realized all too late that Nemesis had called down some kind of service and resupply unit from orbit, in a perfect feat of showmanship, defying them to act.
The service unit coupled to Nemesis, draining off the excess energy remaining from the lightning bolt, recharging coolants, and performing other maintenance tasks while simultaneously replacing the depleted ranks of rockets and sub munitions in a matter of moments.
As some of the PDF finally recovered enough to ready themselves for an attack on the now defenseless Nemesis, the service unit fell to the ground, self-destructing on impact.
Before they could act, Nemesis again raised itself to its full, terrible height, both arms clenched in front of it, roaring with a deafening voice, an animalistic scream of defiant rage, daring them to advance.
* * * * *
General Akari stood in the center of the C & C, alone amidst a sea of personnel who shared his goals and worked to make his dreams become reality, staring at the monitor in disbelief at what he was seeing. One pilot and his Mech armor had singlehandedly brought nearly a thousand remaining PDF forces to a complete standstill through sheer strength, bravado, theatricality, and perfect sense of timing. The ramifications of the pilots pre-meditated actions raced through his mind, but it had never been clearer to him that the pilot of Starkindler had not died six months previously. He was now operating this new demon. No one else fought in such a reckless, singular manner.
As he considered the demon occupying the main display, General Akari realized that the pilot of that machine was indeed the key to everything, acting as the unknown and therefore unbeatable element that constantly interrupted his well-laid plans. The enemy pilot, his nemesis, was not moving one-step, or even ten, ahead of his competition. He was operating on another level so entirely unimaginable that General Akari, considered by many to be one of the greatest military tacticians in modern history, was having difficulty grasping their level of difference.
As he felt the lingering tendrils of self-doubt creep into the background of his thoughts, General Akari knew without a doubt that the pilots out on the plain, directly facing off against such a frightening monstrosity, would be handicapped by fear and self-doubt. Their thoughts and actions would be preceded by the worry that the terrorist pilot had already anticipated them, and if so, how they could act in a manner he had not predicted. That fear, regardless of its legitimacy, would cripple their reflexes and force them to distrust their greatest assets, their instincts and self-confidence.
Shaking off the fog of fear, General Akari scanned the C & C, noting the same distress among the station operators, paralyzing them in a way more crippling than any attack. He marveled at the profound sense of dread washing over him, reveling in the clarity and singularity of purpose that followed the act of setting aside such overwhelming terror.
“What manner of demon is that machine? That is too much power for any single human to have, who is capable of doing all this?” SGM. Anderson suddenly asked him, interrupting his reverie.
Hearing the voice of his aide, General Akari returned to the present, seeing that SGM. Andersons face had turned ash white. Despite their strong bond, he had been so transfixed by the demonic Mech armor that he had forgotten the ever-loyal Staff Sergeant standing at his side. Maybe he was not as immune to the paralyzing fear gripping everyone else as he had imagined. When he turned to the command console set at the center of the room, searching for what had so disturbed his aide, he felt the shock himself as his mind interpreted the unfolding events.
SGM Anderson reached over to the console, turning up the volume ever so slightly.
Staring straight into the camera feed was the demon incarnate, still appearing to be screaming incoherently. Suddenly, it stopped, as if recognizing the attention of the camera feed. The silence was pierced by a steady rasping sound, as if death itself was scraping across the Martian plain, come to claim all of their lives in retribution for their folly.
“NEMESIS,” Painfully rasped the black demon.
As if the single word proved the spell of unbinding for unchecked madness, the demonic behemoth suddenly clenched its arms, arching its back in a very human gesture, ghoulish wings spread wide as if it were in extreme pain.
Again, the Mech armor screamed, “I. AM. NEMESIS!”
* * * * *
Alyona and Eve had been too late to assist Kiryl and the other defenders with defending the salient. Instead, they followed the retreating defenders into the shelter of the mountain in order to resupply. It was from there that Alyona watched in the same breathless wonder as everyone else, unable to recognize her friend and figurative brother in the acts she was witnessing. She was as stunned as everyone else when Nemesis suddenly appeared on the battlefield, effortlessly cutting down hundreds of drones before calling down Titan’s Hammer, the tungsten rods no one, aside from Mikkhael, were even aware had existed. As if that were not enough, he called down lightning itself, casting it into the PDF ranks, immolating dozens of Mech armor where they stood.
She had wanted to rush to his side, but Aurora, Starkindler’s AI, held her and everyone else back. Although no one could communicate with Mikkhael because of the possessed AI of Nemesis, Aurora knew that not even the Omnos squad were safe around him for the time being. Aurora had calmly instructed Alyona and the rest of the Omnos squad, which now included Eve, to use the intervening time to resupply and prepare for battle once more.
Despite her protestations, Alyona found herself secretly grateful that she was not out there in close proximity to the corrupted, mad, thing her brother had become. She remained glued to her view screen the same as everyone else, unable to tear her eyes away for even a second.
All of the Omnos squad had extensively viewed footage of Mikkhael fighting. They had heard the stories and even used the simulator to re-create many of the battles, testing themselves for how they would have acted if their roles had been reversed. But seeing for herself was believing. One thing Alyona now knew was that she finally believed all those campfire stories and they did not do him justice.
When Nemesis drew the line deep in the sand, silently stating that the PDF would not advance past that point, Alyona finally broke free of the trance. “Kurtis, are you ther
e?” She asked through their private frequency.
“Yeah” he replied breathlessly, “I’m watching as well.”
“I need you and Argos to get me comm access to every rebel you can, as quickly as possible. Can you do that?” Alyona asked.
Kurtis did not question her motives. Their bond was much too significant for such insecurities. In seconds, hundreds of open rebel channels began appearing on the side of her HUD, crowding in amongst her seventeen remaining Salvatores. Every second that passed saw hundreds more channels appear. Kurtis was including everything from rebel MARS units to the public address system in Mount Olympus.
Alyona watched impatiently, knowing that every second counted. In the meantime, she relied on Mikkhael to buy them the time they needed. He did not disappoint.
Suddenly, she realized that she did not know what she was going to say, only knowing that she needed to speak to the StormCrows and their rebel allies, galvanizing them into action that would save Mikkhael, and thereby themselves.
In the meantime, Mikkhael finessed Nemesis through what was likely the most public field-resupply ever attempted, daring thousands of enemies to attack him while he was seemingly alone, defenseless, exposed, out on the plain. His bluff and showmanship paralyzed them with fear.
When the service unit linked with Nemesis and the PDF had still not yet attacked, Alyona knew that the time to act was now and could not wait any longer. She looked at the HUD, her breath catching as it displayed thousands of open comm channels, each one representing a person, silently waiting for her to tell them what to do.
She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly before keying the frequency. “To everyone who can hear this message, this is Alyona, pilot of the DawnsLight, Captain of the Omnos squad. I have only one thing to ask you. Will you stand with me? Will you stand with Mikkhael? Look at him. Watch as he fights for you, bleeds for you, suffers in your stead. Will you just sit there; cowering, hidden away in your holes with your false sense of security, or will you fight? Will you fight for your friends? Will you fight for your home? Will you fight for your beliefs? Will you fight with me? WILL YOU FIGHT FOR MIKKHAEL?”
“I will stand with Mikkhael. I will fight. Follow if you dare.”
Alyona dropped the frequency, unable to listen to whether or not anyone replied. Having an open frequency at this point would make no difference whether or not the PDF killed them in the end.
Without fanfare, her AI, Athena automatically increased DawnsLight’s engine output while engaging the afterburners. Not even checking to see whether the other members of the Omnos squad followed her, DawnsLight took flight, leaving the safety of Mount Olympus possibly for the last time.
DawnsLight flew low above the ground, headed out onto the blasted plain towards where Nemesis solitary form remained, unmoving, an entirely immutable being.
Within minutes, Alyona settled DawnsLight down lightly behind and to the right of Nemesis. Still, he did not turn or move, doing nothing to recognize her sudden presence.
Facing off against them were the gathered survivors of Titan’s Hammer. The PDF numbers were depleted but far from spent. The veteran pilots had regrouped, forming into tight ranks, split into five different formations positioned in the shape of a diamond with one formation anchoring its center, each ready to support the other. They were clearly making their last preparations before charging. At any moment, they would overrun the plain, crushing everything in their path.
Alyona did not know if anyone had heeded her desperate plea, following her to the front lines to stand with her and Mikkhael for this final battle. If no one followed, then she would die next to Mikkhael, together, struggling to extinguish an evil that was worth the cost of their lives.
She refused to turn her head, afraid of what she might see.
If she had, her breath would have been taken away.
She was the only person in a thousand square miles who missed Mikkhael announce himself to the entire planet as Nemesis. Just as she was the only person aside from Mikkhael who did not see Mount Olympus open its veins after her call to battle, releasing its lifeblood in the form of the thousands of StormCrows who issued forth from every airlock, hangar, and service exit, all headed out onto the plain in order to stand with Mikkhael.
MARS units lumbered forth, some hardly able to function, yet they sallied regardless. Scattered amidst their ranks were the gleaming hides of the remaining Salvatores, to a man answering the call to action. Still others piloted service waldos, gantries, and every form of mechanized contraption they could. Those with nothing to pilot ran. They held their weapons high in the air with nothing more than a rebreather mask on their face, encased in unarmored atmospheric suits, running to stand with the man who was their vanguard, their champion, their hero.
More followed, continuously pouring forth from the mountain in a human tidal wave surging across the plain. Mixed among the soldiers, the security personnel, and those given the last minute task of defending their home, were the common citizens who had refused to run, all of whom were equally determined to stand with the man who symbolized their resistance to the tyranny and corruption of Mars Industries. Husbands, wives, and nurses ran alongside soldiers and security personnel. Weaponless, and unable to contribute militarily, still they answered Alyona’s call. Others carried wounded who refused to be left behind.
Each of them was a drop in the swelling tide of defiance and hope issuing forth onto the barren plain.
Some drove, some ran, some walked, and some hobbled, but they all had one thing in common. On all of their lips, they carried with them the same battle cry.
A chant issued forth over the comm system, repeating, growing in power until it took on a life of its own.
“NEM-E-SIS, NEM-E-SIS, NEM-E-SIS.”
At first, a few among the chaotic throng inchoately whispered his new name. Their voices grew louder, more confident, as more StormCrows joined in. The proletariat became one, calling out again-and-again until the name took on a power of its own, becoming something more than human, more than simply mortal.
Four thousand StormCrows and allied rebels stood, together, united, on the plain despite the certainty of death, wildly screaming the name of their champion.
They were not asking Mikkhael to save them. They were not that naïve. Instead, they gave him permission to avenge them after they were dead.
Instead of running, or cowering inside the mountain until the PDF army broke into their home and hunted them down, they now chose how they would meet their end, defiant, with pride in whom they were, and in what they represented until the last moments of their lives. They decided that they would not run. They would not hide. They would stand until the very end.
Alyona started as Eve landed to her left, forming a triangle between Starkindler, Nemesis, and her DawnsLight. Eve pointed Starkindler’s arm to its head in the location of where its ear would be in the universal sign for listening and then held out Starkindler’s hand, reaching towards DawnsLight.
Inside the cockpit, Alyona reached over to turn the communication system back on, her hand trembling as she did so. Immediately, the cockpit was filled with the unified sound of their voices. Hearing the StormCrows collective roar of defiance brought tears to her eyes. Without realizing it, she joined them, yelling out over the open frequencies and the PA system, becoming a part of that indomitable wave.
She looked over at Starkindler, tears streaming unheeded down her cheeks, imagining the woman piloting Starkindler in Mikkhael’s stead, and knew then that she accepted Eve for who she was. Then she reached out DawnsLight’s hand, clasping the other woman’s open hand in her own.
Kiryl settled Intrepid behind the pair of women, forming the beginning of a third line, positioned directly behind Mikkhael in Nemesis. Kurtis landed to his left, Vera to his right. Together, they too each clasped their giant Mech hands, joining the StormCrows in their chant.
Rebel squadrons of MARS units and Salvatores formed up behind them, continuing to clasp hands, each
successive line growing wider, forming a growing wedge formation with Nemesis acting as the tip of the spear. Thousands of infantry and civilians stood behind them, clasping hands, as together they stood behind their armored brothers and sisters, continuing to chant “NEM-E-SIS.”
All the while Mikkhael seemed to be completely oblivious to what was happening behind him, remaining face forward, immobile, as if frozen in time. Nemesis remained in its stoic pose, waiting for the right moment, when suddenly the arms moved fast as lightning, effortlessly ripping the giant katana out of the ground, raising it high into the air with one hand.
Mikkhael screamed one last time, louder, more powerful than ever. “I. AM. NEMESIS!”
Behind him, the StormCrows joined his battle cry, their voices and wills united as one in a single roar. “NEM-E-SIS!!”
Gouts of black fire jetted forth from Nemesis engines as it suddenly launched itself across the plain, straight into the teeth of the surprised PDF formations. Black and blue lightning’s streaked wildly from the frame as it closed the gap between itself and its enemies.
Within moments, Mikkhael engaged the PDF pilots who were terrified of the sight unfolding before their eyes, unable to comprehend the madness of belief. Their ranks simply melted before the onslaught. Their morale was in tatters from the combined defeats dealt at the hands of so few, beaten before the battle had even begun
Behind Nemesis flew the Omnos squad, arriving moments later, followed by the StormCrows in whatever fashion the chaotic swarm could manage. They were not fighting for themselves, their shattered home, or their beliefs. They fought for Mikkhael, their hero, their champion. They killed for him, and they died for him.
Nemesis (The MechaVerse Trilogy Book 2) Page 51