෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

෴Epilogue෴

The screen froze on the image of the bloody slurry next to the annihilated building, then the world around it froze. The view of Sia’s apartment and newscast screen became a single flat image. The color and sharpness bled out of the image. Then the image itself receded into a distant tiny white dot before blinking out.

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

෴11 hours, 36 minutes before Nemesis.෴

6 minutes ago.

The man in black fatigues standing at the podium reached the conclusion of his speech. “Without further ado, let’s get started. Open your interface to receive an experiential datastream upload. It’s a big one. This experiential datastream has the combined experiences of several people and has been cleaned up as best we can.”

He looked out at the crowd and raised his fist. “You know how to fight. You know what and who we’re fighting. The goal today is to give you context. I want you to know how we got here. The hope is that these volumes will teach you the real history behind the incursions that no one taught you. With time compression, it should only take about five minutes to experience this one.”

He waited until every blinking dot on his internal map glowed green and hit send on his interface.

No one who downloads a big experiential datastream describes the process of going into it in quite the same way. Various theories exist to explain this phenomenon, but most of them hinge around two ideas. The first is the idea that the greater the difference between the ‘viewer’ and the primary source of sensory and cognitive data, the greater the initial dissonance. The second idea is related to content and duration. Many viewers new to these datastreams take several minutes to fully return to their faculties after viewing one. This is normal, and laying down before viewing is how most people experience these datastreams.

Had a researcher into this effect existed, and been present there that day, they would have been amazed to see all 400 soldiers accept a huge experiential datastream, and dive into—and then come out of it—without so much as a moment of unsteadiness, many while standing.

The surrounding room was a large windowless concrete chamber. Armored recessed lights ringed the top edge of the room. Faint lines and spots of white efflorescence along the slab seams told a story of just how old, and deep underground this place was. The white spots and lines competed with the black scorch marks and painted on targets that lined the walls. The faint scent of ozone competing with the scent of over 400 people in a cramped room told of someone recently performing heavy combat training with electrical abilities. 

The 400 filled the training chamber to beyond capacity. Chairs were set up in a series of tight rows. Every chair was in use, and the remaining area was filled with people standing. 

Around the five minute mark, viewers around the room started opening their eyes. Some of them blinked a few times to get used to the light and reestablish personal equilibrium. No one vomited or even looked particularly disoriented after the large download. They were all very experienced in dealing with experiential downloads by now, even if this was by far the longest one most of them had ever been through. 

The energy in the room had changed. The fighters looked fresh, eager. They packed the room like an accelerant soaked tinderbox of unimaginable power waiting to be aimed, and for the right spark. 

෴෴෴ ෴෴෴ ෴෴෴

෴11 hours, 41 minutes before Nemesis.෴

11 minutes ago.

The simple temporary construction of the raised platform and podium at the front sat in contrast to the charged feeling in the room. The energetic hum of anticipation that saturated the room seemed to demand a raised dais of pristine stone and polished steel topped with a podium of some precious wood or perhaps glittering obsidian.

The two men on the raised platform looked at the last of the soldiers as they trickled in and found spots along the wall. One wore an elaborate white and blue military-style dress uniform adorned with a variety of medals and military insignia. This included markings showing him to the rank of general, the marking for service branch was missing. The other man wore a simple set of sturdy looking unadorned black military fatigues. The man in black sat there with his eyes closed, hands clasped together with white knuckles, his entire being radiating a cool patient fury so strong and pure the General could feel it pressing in on him as a heavy, ominous, vibration. 

The General glanced upward, studying the ceiling as though trying to imagine how many millions of tons of stone sat above this highly classified location deep in the earth. He looked out at the full room and shook his head almost imperceptibly. “This can’t have been the biggest place you could find for this,” he said.

The man in black shrugged. “General, I admit it’s a little crowded in here, but I’m not about to risk the future of our world in a location we can't secure. We’ve got far too much riding on Operation Nemesis to risk losing the leadership in an attack.”

The General looked out into the room and pursed his lips. “You may have a point. In any case, it looks like everyone’s here. I’ll get this started.”

The General stood, straightened his uniform, and took the podium. He looked out at the crowded room and waved. “We have just over eleven hours till go time, so I’ll be brief. We are here to share with you the last information about our enemy that has not yet been shared with the rest of the world.”

He pointed at the rear doors and waited as they were closed and locked. 

“Operation Nemesis has been a long time in the making. Soon you will be face to face with our enemy. By now you should all realize that when I say, ‘our enemy’ I mean they are the enemy of every human being on this planet or any others we might go to. Our enemy wanted nothing less than to enslave our entire world. They were stopped by the heroic actions and sacrifices of a few. Some of you may have known them personally, all of you certainly know of them.”

He allowed a dramatic pause, “Our enemy is back. Having failed to bring us to heel, they come for our lives. We are now faced with nothing less than total annihilation.”

The General pointed behind him at the man in black. “Now I’m going to turn you over to my friend here for a few words. This man, sometimes called The Mentor, up here with me should need no introduction. He is the architect of Operation Nemesis, the reason we even have the chance to mount this counteroffensive, and if you needed another credential, he’s also arguably the most powerful human in existence.”

The General waved and returned to his seat. “Good luck, sir,” he whispered to his counterpart.

The man in black took the podium. “I’m not as good at all this speech stuff as the General here. So let me ask you this. Show of hands, how many of you remember what you were doing when your interface first popped up?” The whispered sound of rustling fabric was loud in the otherwise silent room when every soldier raised a hand as one.

“Why do I ask that? Well, let’s just say it’ll be relevant shortly. Hopefully, none of you were driving when it happened.” 

A low chuckle flowed through the room. 

“You are all here today, because all four hundred of you have been tested, proven, and now chosen to lead the battle group you’ve been training with. Some of you were military, some of you weren’t. By now you’ve all seen more combat than any soldier ever could have in the old world. This battle before us will be like nothing humanity has ever encountered, or attempted before."

He looked at the audience and shook his head ever so slightly. "Frankly, if we had other options, we’d probably use them. But maybe we wouldn’t. Maybe we shouldn’t. Maybe the right answer to this problem is human power versus alien aggression. What say you?” 

The room erupted in a cheer that echoed and seemed to shake the very air. He let the noise die down. He took a deep breath. Those looking at him felt as though he were taller, larger, somehow becoming more and more there, so solid and undeniable his existence that the rest of reality seemed a touch faded in comparison.

When he continued, his voice had increased in power and volume, filling the room in ways the simple PA system could not account for. “For far too long we've been fighting a defensive war against an enemy whose name we knew not. An enemy whose goals we knew nothing of. An enemy that accepted no surrender, gave no quarter, and rebuked all attempts to communicate.”

He turned and gestured to the other man sharing the stage. “The General is right. This enemy will stop at nothing to ensure the utter destruction of what and who we are. Operation Nemesis is the chance for humanity to speak as one. We will make our enemies pay, and show them clearly that humanity will not be enslaved. We will not be destroyed. We will not fade away.”

His voice shook and those at the front could see a tear making its way down his face. 

“Here on the eve of our storm, as we prepare for Operation Nemesis, things are different. Today, we know our foe, they are the Megiror. We know what they want, and they shall not have it! We no longer care about surrender or quarter, and we are no longer interested in talking.”

His voice rose further, echoing in the cramped chamber.

“Tomorrow we will rage against the dying of our light with a fury that will not, cannot, be defied! Those who gave their lives that every one of us might have the chance to be right here, right now, demand no less than our greatest efforts!”

He seemed to run out of steam and sag inward, almost shrinking in place.

End of Incursions: Book 1, Incarceration.