Nemesis Boxset Page 26

  “Did you think we were playing for fun?” she asks, circling around me. “If you want to go into battle for Veritas, you have to learn to monitor every angle with one eye. Once your opponent realizes you’re blind, he won’t hesitate to take advantage of it. You have to fight like you’re not at a disadvantage.”

  She darts in and throws a left hook to my right eye. I easily block that one, but she follows it up with a quick jab to my left side. Her knuckles sink into my rib cage.

  “Damn!” I gasp. “Stop doing that.”

  “No way. You want to learn or not?”

  She squares off again and beckons me forward. I angle my face toward the left so I can see both of her hands. She attacks with a combination. I block her jab-jab-cross, weave under a right hook, and land a power cross to her torso. Her stomach contracts to absorb the hit, and her muscles ripple beneath my knuckles. When I come up again, I forget to align my head properly. She lands a right uppercut to the middle of my chest. I double over, wheezing for air.

  “Better,” she says. “Keep your good eye on me at all times. Remember your basic techniques. You’re one of the best hand-to-hand fighters in the galaxy. You should be able to predict your opponent’s every move. Tap into that. Let’s go again.”

  We start at least fifty more fake fights. At first, Vega lands a hit to my blind side in ninety percent of the matches. Each time, she stops sparring and points out what I’ve done wrong. I adjust accordingly. Eventually, my stance shifts to favor the middle ground. Though my body is more exposed to the opponent, I can actually see what’s going on. As we continue, I block more and more of Vega’s advances. As I get into the swing of things and my confidence grows, I get faster and faster. Finally, I twist around Vega’s tricky right hook and counter with a power cross to her face. My fist connects with a loud thwack, and Vega drops to the sand.

  “Oh, shit.” I kneel next to her and pull her hand away from where she cradles her face. “Vega, I’m so sorry. I got absorbed in the fight. I should’ve checked that punch.”

  She tenderly prods her temple, where a pink and red welt is already beginning to blossom. “Damn, Ophelia. I think you nearly gave me a concussion.”

  “I’m so sorry,” I say again.

  “It’s okay.” She gestures for me to help her up, and I pull her out of the sand. She roots through her backpack and pulls out a tub of bruise balm. “Put some of this on for me, will you?”

  Vega sits on a log of driftwood as I unscrew the tub and dip my pinky finger into the gooey purple balm. As gently as possible, I dab it onto her face. It sinks into her skin and begins working immediately. The blood begins to clot beneath Vega’s skin. The bruise turns black and blue before fading to yellow, like it’s been a good few days since Vega got hit.

  “Thanks,” Vega says. “This is a good sign.”

  “It is?”

  “Yeah, it means you can still fight.” She takes off her sweat-soaked shirt and prances toward the water. “It’s annoying really. I thought I’d finally have the upper hand on you.”

  She charges into the waves like a soldier into battle, and the ocean swallows her. I’d be worried if I couldn’t see her dark figure cutting through the crystal water like a sea creature. She surfaces with a great breath of air and a wide grin.

  “Are you coming in or not?”

  “Shouldn’t we get back to camp?” I ask. “I want to tell Halley I’ve got potential.”

  “Let’s keep training for a few weeks,” Vega replies. “When you’re back to your old self, then we go to Halley. I don’t want a doubt in her head that you can’t defend yourself.”

  “Fine,” I agree grudgingly. “But we should still go. I’m sure there are a million things to do at camp.”

  “Fee, in times like these, you have to learn to take pleasure in the little things.” Vega slaps her flat palms against the surface of the water, sending a spray up on either side of her. “It’s hot, we’ve trained hard, and we deserve a refreshing dip. Come on. Ten minutes.”

  It’s hard to say no, especially with the beads of sweat dripping down my neck and soaking into my shirt. The water looks so inviting as Vega bobs up and down with the flow of the tide. I shuck off my shirt and wade in.

  “Atta girl,” Vega says.

  I float on my back, letting the water carry me. “This is nice. Good for sore muscles.”

  “I told you.”

  “You know what else is nice?”

  “Huh?”

  I flip over and dunk Vega’s head underwater. When she surfaces, I propel myself away, kicking off her chest.

  “Oh, you’re dead, Holmes!”

  Time continues to pass, and the Third Planetary War rages on. My days are packed. I train with Vega before sunrise, help in the med bay until lunch, then perform daily tasks around the camp until dinner. After I’ve eaten, I stretch and meditate with Vega. At first, the whole meditation thing sounded like a scam, but after a few weeks of practice, I start looking forward to our quiet time together in our shared bunk. Gradually, the routine becomes something I can appreciate. My body mends itself, even with the opalite working against it. No amount of practice and meditation will return sight to my left eye, but I get used to the darkness on that side. Before I know it, I check my blind side instinctively. I stop tripping over my own feet. As my deftness returns, so does my confidence.

  Veritas works around the clock to combat the Revellae’s actions around the galaxy. Every morning, a new group deploys to a different planet. Every evening, some other group returns with a number of injuries. As the squadrons work to defend Pavo, many of the troubled civilians are brought to Adrestia. Within a matter of months, the planet becomes a refugee safehouse as people from all over the galaxy turn up here. At first, the council doesn’t know what to do with them. Presumably, most of them are innocent civilians who lost their homes and family members because of the Revellae, but the sudden influx of people is hard for Veritas to process. An assignment goes out to set up a temporary refugee camp separate from Veritas’s home base. I volunteer to help build it. I get to know the people who were driven from their homes, and with every new friend I make, I hate my mother even more for the pain and suffering she’s inflicted on the kind people of this galaxy.

  Though we’re pressed to gather enough resources to feed, clothe, and house every person on the planet, Veritas benefits from the new residents of Adrestia. Many of them are eager to join our forces, but they lack basic combat knowledge. Halley approves me to train a group of one hundred refugees, and my routine changes again. Every morning, my trainees report to the beach, where I teach them IA’s methods of offense and how to counter it. Some of the refugees are born fighters. They pick up the lessons quick and graduate to the squadrons being deployed across the galaxy to fight the Revellae. Others stay with me for several months before they take on lighter missions. Still others give up on the fighting and ask to gather intel instead. Once the last of my trainees has graduated, Halley approaches me with a fresh group.

  “Here they are,” she says. She taps the mini-Monitor on her gloves and uploads a list of new trainees to my system. Their names and ID photos pop up on my own Monitor. “You’re doing great work, Holmes.”

  “Halley, I don’t want to do this anymore,” I say, flicking my glove to close out the list. “I don’t want to train the new fighters. I want to be out in the field.”

  “You’re more useful to us here than in the field,” Halley says. “Not many people possess your level of knowledge when it comes to combat. Your trainees perform exceptionally well in the field. Our injury and casualty numbers are way down thanks to you.”

  “That’s great, but this isn’t what I do,” I tell her. “I’m a fighter, not a teacher.”

  “It’s not just my decision,” Halley replies. “The council as a whole is responsible for designation positions. They don’t want to put you in the field because they fear you can’t defend yourself properly.”

  “I’m one of the best fighters
in the galaxy,” I say. “I’ve learned to adapt. My eye isn’t a disadvantage to me anymore.”

  “Unfortunately, there’s no way to prove that.” Halley waves at the group of new trainees. Confused, they mill about in disorganized chaos. Halley cups her hands around her mouth and shouts, “Fall in, idiots! Look, Ophelia” —she lowers her voice— “I know you hate me, but I don’t have a lot of options here. All I know is that Veritas can’t afford to lose you.”

  “I’m just one person.”

  “Who’s a hell of a teacher for someone who claims not to be one,” Halley replies. “And Veritas needs you around for other reasons too.”

  “What reasons?”

  “You should already know by now that you’re special.” She lifts her mask to scratch beneath it, and I get another glimpse of her ruined skin. “After all, the Holmes family is half the reason we’re in this mess to begin with.”

  “I could do a lot more if you let me into those secret council meetings,” I tell her. “I’m not stupid. I know my mother hasn’t been reported dead yet. She’s still out there, plotting, and I’m the only one here who knows how her brain works. If you just let me—”

  “Holmes, give it up,” Halley says, rolling her eyes. “It’s not going to happen. Don’t you get that? You’ve been a pawn in this game from the very beginning. It’s all about playing you at the right time to get what we need to win this war. If you’re not okay with that, you might as well turn your gloves in now and shoot yourself into space.”

  She starts walking away, but I hurry after her.

  “What if I could prove it?” I ask. “Fight me.”

  “Are you nuts, Holmes?”

  “You didn’t become commander of the Veritas army at fourteen without being extraordinarily gifted,” I tell her. “Set up a fight. Three rounds. If you beat me, I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll train the newbies or work intel.”

  “And if you win?” she asks.

  “Then you put me on the next team with a mission out.”

  “Okay.”

  I step back, surprised. “That’s it? We’re in agreement?”

  “I have to run it by the council first,” Halley says. “But as long as they’re okay with it, I’m willing to participate. Hell, I’ve wanted to fight you since you got here, and it’ll be a decent source of entertainment for everyone. You ready to do it tonight?”

  “Tonight?”

  “Yeah, you got plans or not?”

  “No, I’m ready,” I tell her. “Book the fight.”

  The council agrees, and word of the fight spreads through the camp like a disease. Everyone’s invited and excited for it, which makes me even more nervous. I hadn’t intended for this to be a public event, but in the timespan of a few hours, it turns into the most anticipated evening Veritas has seen in months. At dinner, thirty different people approach me to tell me who they’re rooting for. If it weren’t for Vega, who finally scares them all away, I wouldn’t have time to put any food in my mouth.

  The fight is scheduled at dusk in the community square. I warm up with Vega on the beach, far away from the crowds and all that restless energy. As we stretch and flow, Vega keeps a close eye on me.

  “You sure you want to do this?” she asks. “You’ve never seen Halley fight before. You don’t know her style at all.”

  “It’s the only way to prove I belong on the frontlines,” I reply. “My mother caused this war, and I want to be the one who brings her to justice. I can’t do that if I’m stuck on Adrestia.”

  “She’s fast,” Vega tells me. “And she uses her mask to her advantage.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll see.”

  The square is set up for the fight. A temporary stage has been erected over the fountain so everyone can see the action. Lines of lanterns are strung from building to building, casting a flickering glow on the audience below. When Vega and I arrive, a yell of approval goes up from the crowd. The onlookers push me toward the stage, where Halley is already waiting.

  Halley grabs my hands and hauls me onto the platform. It’s suspended about five feet in the air, but if either one of us goes over the edge at the wrong angle, it’s going to feel like a much steeper drop. Halley bounces on the balls of her feet in her corner of the ring. She wears loose-fitting shorts and a mesh top. Her muscles contract as she throws a couple of shadow punches. I study her form and swallow the lump in her throat. For a fifteen-year-old, she looks like a killing machine. Then again, I suppose she is.

  “Good evening, all!” Halley shouts across the square. The crowd roars in reply. “You have gathered here tonight to witness a show of strength, skill, and bravery, but this is not your average fight, ladies and gentlemen. Ophelia’s reputation is on the line, is it not?”

  Another cheer rings against my eardrums. I grit my teeth, waiting for Halley to wrap up her theatrics. As she gets the crowd riled up, I study every aspect of her movement. She favors her left foot. Her right ankle is slightly kinked, like she’s broken it before. I store the information away for later.

  “Do we have a match referee?” Halley calls. “Orion, how about you?”

  Orion steps onto the platform between us and pats me on the back. “Good luck, Ophelia. I hope this turns out the way you want it to.”

  “Not likely,” Halley says.

  “Fight fair,” Orion tells her. “We don’t want either of you getting hurt. Ready?”

  Halley holds out her fist, and I tap mine against hers in a show of sportsmanship. We both lower into a fighting crouch.

  “Fight!” Orion calls.

  Halley springs forward, attacking with a flurry of punches and kicks. She is fast, but there’s not as much weight behind her attacks as there should be. She relies on her speed to stun her opponent because she lacks the strength to knock them out. At first, I try to stay out of her range, but she likes to fight close and quick. I stop running, use my arms to block, and coax her around the ring to study her footwork. She favors a rectangular pattern, and she throws the same combinations in the same order. She lands several punches and kicks, but they’re minor compared to Vega’s beatings. I wait her out.

  At the end of the first round, Orion calls out Halley’s win. Half of the crowd hollers their approval, while my former trainees jeer and boo. I give Halley a respectful nod as we take our first water break.

  “What are you doing?” Vega asks when she hands me her bottle. “She doesn’t vary her moves at all. Get in there!”

  “Patience, Major.”

  Round two begins, and Halley starts her little dance again. Her cardio skills are unparalleled. Her breath remains steady despite her constant movement, but I know she’ll tire out eventually. A minute or two into the round, she slows down a fraction. A hint of a smile crosses my face.

  Jab, cross, hook, uppercut. Front kick, jab, roundhouse kick, backhand. I memorize the rhythm of Halley’s combos. On her next run through, I catch her right foot when she goes for the front kick. With a quick jerk, I twist her ankle. Her whole body rotates to protect the weak joint, and I yank her feet right out from under her. She hits the mat with a loud slam. The crowd roars.

  I give her time to get to her feet. She hobbles to her corner, favoring her left foot even more now.

  “What the hell was that, Holmes?” she growls.

  I only beckon her forward.

  She rushes me. I can see the rage in her eyes. She’s mad I embarrassed her, but emotion is the worst enemy in a fight like this. It makes for poor choices and even worse concentration. I think of the sea’s clear water and the sound the sand makes when my bare feet sink into it. I think of swimming with Vega on hot days and cooling off beneath the palm trees afterward. My body moves without conscious effort. Halley darts in, and I cut her off, this time with a flat palm to the center of her chest.

  “Round!” Orion calls as Halley gasps to regain her breath. “Point to Ophelia.”

  The crowd goes absolutely nuts. I meet Vega in the corner of the ring, and she
shoots water into my mouth from the bottle.

  “I can beat her,” I say, wiping my chin.

  “Maybe,” Vega says. “But don’t get cocky.”

  When round three begins, Halley rethinks her strategy. She doesn’t immediately rush in. Instead, she circles around me and waits for me to attack first. I know what she’s doing. She wants to study my offense to learn how to break through it, but she can’t do that if I don’t attack.

  “I’ve got all night,” I call out.

  I drop my hands for just a second, hoping my momentary lack of defense might draw her out. It works. She moves in and throws a cross toward my blind slide. I slip to avoid it, step in, and stomp on her instep. It’s a bitchy move, but I don’t put enough force behind it to break her ankle, just enough to make her even angrier.

  I let her limp to the edge of the ring, giving her time to get herself together. Her breathing evens out, shoulders rising and falling in a steady rhythm. I raise my hands as she meets me in the center of the ring again. Then she takes off her mask and flicks it to the side.

  For a split second, all I can do is stare at the mangled flesh and bone of her cheek and jaw. It’s a split second too long, and it’s exactly what Halley wanted. While I’m distracted, she drives an uppercut into my chin. My jaw snaps shut, and my teeth cut clean through my bottom lip. Blood pours from my mouth, but that doesn’t stop Halley from coming. She throws a dreaded right hook directly at my blind eye. I hear it before I feel it, and for once, Halley’s put her full weight behind the punch. I stumble toward the edge of the ring, dangerously close to falling off.

  “I told you,” Vega hisses. “Stop looking at her face and get back in the game, Holmes!”

  Halley’s on a rampage now. She follows me to the edge of the ring and aims a kick at my torso while I’m still down. I roll away, trailing blood across the mat. Halley stomps after me, determined to trap me under her foot. I fake exhaustion and let her think she’s finally caught me, but when she attempts to step on my chest, I grab the same ankle I caught earlier and yank her down to the mat with me. She tries to scramble away, but she’s not quick enough. I crawl on top of her, letting my full weight pin her to the mat. She struggles to free herself.