PROLOGUE
“This environment is repugnant.”
One identical Nemesis looked cautiously to the other. Despite their universal agreement on the subject of the Lost Jungle, they had to check their language. At any moment, their guide might step forward.
Regardless of the lies they told, it was an awkward match. Such unrestricted wildlife was hardly the place to expect a horde of leather-clad machines. The irony of the clash, however, was to be celebrated. From the dirty ground beneath their metal boots, lanky arms of bark and vine reached skyward. In thin fingers rested an unbroken shield of foliage. As long as they remained, the Nemesis would be invisible.
In spite of their differences, nature would protect them.
Such an unspoken arrangement was not entirely without risk. Their guide had warned them of that. Much came from rumour and hearsay. Thusfar, the only variable factor encountered had been several indigenous species of frog. Tales of dragons and mythical beasts followed, of course, but none were taken as credible threats. Only when a Nemesis perimeter scout had found himself standing in a giant alligator’s footprint were patrols doubled. Like all stories, it seemed, there was a basis in fact.
“Digging proceeds to schedule,” the conversation between the comrades continued.
“If there are no further delays, we should locate it within the hour.”
“Providing the map we stole from the GUN mainframe was accurate,” it had to be pointed out. Logic circuits left no eventuality unexplored. They ticked evenly inside the masked head, joining the medley of insect chirps that orchestrated the jungle’s soundtrack. “There is the possibility of human error in using their data. GUN soldiers were fighting a war against the Black Arms when the comet was destroyed.”
The other masked head shook in denial. “The map is accurate. The co-ordinates of the dig site display all the prerequisite indications of an impact crater. Remain vigilant. We are in the correct location.”
Vigilance was something guaranteed in the Nemesis. Direct lines of sight were impossible dreams in the heart of the jungle, but it hardly mattered. Such a method of detection was rendered useless by sophisticated audio sensors. They filtered out all known animal calls and background noise. Instead, they focused on detecting the approach of the enemy... an event which was fully expected.
The alert had come through as usual. Encrypted. Brief. But more than enough.
The forces of GUN were coming.
Somewhere to the north, an unmistakable sound pricked the electronic ears of the Nemesis sentry. Wood on wood. Either the giant alligator was coming to feast on fresh robotics, or a tree had been felled to make way for an invading army.
And given the faint buzz of a rotary saw rising above the canopy, they chose the latter.
“They are here...”
ACT ONE
As was customary with the more unique vehicles in military service, the MK-RS had an informal nickname: Pathfinder. No matter what the terrain, she could forge ahead and leave nothing but a flat, even surface for troops and armoured units to advance upon. Place her in a desert and she would bulldoze sand dunes. Deploy her underground and she could burrow a stable tunnel through solid rock. And, as she was demonstrating in the Lost Jungle, point her at a thick rainforest and watch it fall.
It was a regrettable level of devastation which heralded the arrival of GUN to the area. Only thanks to the noble pursuit of justice was it forgivable. Pathfinder presented a wall of steel to the Nemesis. Saws and blades snatched out and consumed anything that stood before her. To the sides of her ample, boxlike frame spewed two steady streams of pulp. She hissed and growled as she ate. On this occasion, the second mission to hunt the Nemesis, the practice of stealth was most certainly not an operational mandate. The sheer cacophony from Pathfinder alone seemed to revel in that allowance.
Heavy tank treads flattened what little survived evisceration. It created a makeshift road for the rest of the battalion. They followed in rank and file as one entity. At the front, soldiers in formation. Marching. Eyes forward. No need to be alert. No reason to sweep the shadows or point rifles at plants. They would be called upon when battle commenced and, with no enemy yet to fight, there was no sense in wasting energy.
So they marched. Men and women, merged together in helmets and holsters to form a body of singular determination. They had all been briefed. They all knew of the reason behind their mission.
They all grieved for their president.
Behind them, no such grief existed in the battalion’s second wave. There, only electronic minds awaited orders. If the organic soldiers failed to defeat the Nemesis, GUN offered the chance of fighting fire with fire... or indeed, robots with robots. To that end, a line of Shield Hunters defended Rhino Jets, Mono Beetles and twenty units of the LZ-1 exoskeleton. They were fully charged and glistened in the dappled sunlight. When combined, they bore enough firepower to overthrow a small city. And that was without even considering what brought up the rear of the expedition.
That honour fell to the walkers. While somewhat cumbersome in the wilderness of the Lost Jungle, their effectiveness as destructive tools was not to be underestimated. Their pilots were trained for any eventuality, so elite that their skills were non-transferable to other vehicles in the GUN arsenal. Most awesome of the entourage was the F-6r, more commonly known as a Big Foot, for obvious reasons. It dwarfed the CV-4 walkers that scurried around it. And there were three of them.
Soaring overhead and watching over their ground-based counterparts, an entire wing of Sky Hawks and Laser Hornets flew alongside the FX-474... the Night Hawk. She, like Pathfinder below her, dominated her dimension of the playing field with unquestioned size. What gave her an advantage, however, were her passengers.
“The President is still alive, then?”
“Only just.”
With aggression and anger his only apparent emotions, Battalion Commander Shadow the Hedgehog finished bringing Rouge the Bat up to speed on recent events. They were seated in the belly of the Night Hawk together. Listening had been a rollercoaster ride for Rouge. Much had happened in such a short space of time. It made her head spin but, eventually, she found focus and regained her cool charm.
“One thing,” she finally asked. “Why me?”
Shadow put aside his discomfort at being asked personal questions. “I trust you. And, like I said before, I need your help. Not just because I’ve never led a military force into battle, but also... because...” He trailed off.
“Because, what?”
The internal comm system interrupted, saving Shadow from being honest with Rouge. He leaned forward to answer it. “Go ahead.”
“Shadow, this is Captain Stone. What’s your position?”
“On course, due south.”
Rare approval crackled through the speakers. “Okay, good work. My battalion is going to be slightly delayed at the rendezvous. We hit a patch of swamp and had to bypass. Keep your speed up. When you reach the centre, set up our base camp as planned, then start deploying the search grid. Got it?”
Shadow nodded. “Understood.”
“Report in, should you encounter anything. Is Agent Rouge with you?”
“Yes.”
“Alright... watch your back, Shadow. Stone out.”
As the comm system fell silent, the hedgehog turned to find a demanding curiosity still set on Rouge’s features. He opened his mouth to counter it. A raised hand cut him short. There was a new question to ask.
“What did he mean?” the bat asked. “Watch your back...?”
“He doesn’t trust you,” Shadow replied. This was an honesty he could manage; an honesty not about himself. “The Nemesis at Circus Park were informed of our arrival around the same time that you left the GUN facility. Stone jumped to his own conclusions and accused you of being the traitor.”
Rouge took the news well. “I see.”
“I hardly trust him myself, either,” Shadow began to elaborate on his feelings. Sudden self-awareness caught his voice and he stopped abruptly. What was it about Rouge that made him talk so openly? It was annoying.
“Carry on,” she urged. “Shadow, if you can’t talk to me, who can you talk to?”
No answer.
“What is it about Stone that you don’t trust?”
Silence.
“Is it the way he treated you? Or perhaps more his personal qualities?”
There was a flicker.
“Ah,” Rouge seized upon it, triumphant. “That’s it, isn’t it? Here you are, trying so hard to be a hero. Holding yourself to a new moral standard. Yet along comes Stone... an ally, yet also arrogant and selfish at the same time. Bad traits. Traits that your instinct associates with distrust and evil, right?”
Shadow relented for a brief moment. “Yeah, I guess.”
“Listen, sweetie... I’m a thief.”
“I know.”
“And yet you trust me. Enough to request my help on this super-important and dangerous mission to stop the Nemesis.”
“Yes.”
“Me. A thief. A lawbreaker.”
Nothing.
Rouge sighed. “Shadow, remind me again why you joined GUN?”
“To protect humanity.”
“Then consider this: Captain Stone? Might just be the most human of them all.”
In the cockpit of the Night Hawk, the usual pilot could be found at the controls. The fresh-faced, two-faced young man was once again travelling towards his employers and tasked with their destruction. And, once again, he was letting his nerves get the better of him. If it should be ordered of him to fire on the Nemesis... no. Stay calm. They would understand. They were robots. Just as cold and emotionless as he.
Blinking through his helmet visor, he checked the illegal radio frequency to which he had tuned the Night Hawk. As if by magic, such an act prompted it to be used. The harsh voice of a Nemesis came through.
“We have what we came for.”
The pilot felt his heartbeat slow. “Acknowledged.”
“We are retreating towards the east.”
“I’m not sure I can stall them. You’ll engage Stone in that direction.”
“We know.”
ACT TWO
Shadow did a double take out of the window.
Opposite him, Rouge got curious. “What do you see?”
“I’m not sure,” was the answer. And it was the truth. The hedgehog squinted through the sunlight at the endless canopy of green. The breeze from the tilt-rotor caused it to ripple. It might as well have been an ocean, rolling with the tide, so perfect was the coverage. Perfect, except for one small area. “Over there.”
Rouge followed his line of sight. “I’m going to need specifics, honey.”
“Those trees are... shorter.”
“Shorter trees? You’ve got me looking at shorter trees?”
Apparently, they meant more to Battalion Commander Shadow than her exasperation could comprehend. He slid from his seat and reached over to the internal comm system. “Pilot,” he ordered quickly, “find a place to land.”
“Yes, sir,” came the reply. “Shall I halt the ground troops?”
“No.”
“Understood, sir,” the pilot noted with confusion. “You’re the boss.”
“I could have been counting gems,” Rouge lamented quietly in the background. “Or visiting that new jade exhibition at Carnival Island... but no, they had to shoot the President! And now my boots are going to get muddy!”
Shadow was in no mood for an attitude. “You can fly.”
That shut her up.
“MK-RS, this is FX-474.”
“FX-474, this is MK-RS, in receipt of your signal.”
“MK-RS, you are requested to continue along your pre-arranged course. FX-474 is taking a slight detour at the behest of Agent Shadow. Change frequency. Report any sightings of the enemy to Captain Stone until our return.”
“FX-474, orders acknowledged. What about the control signals?”
“MK-RS, all control signals for GUN automated forces are now routed through your node, and that includes the airborne wings.”
“FX-474, understood. Just yell if you need your Sky Hawks back. Happy hunting.”
The pilot closed the channel with contempt for military banter.
“Yeah, whatever...”
Authority came with responsibility. It explained the huge salary.
In the past few hours, the GUN Commander felt such responsibility threatening to crush his broad shoulders. It was as though every paycheque received weighed an impossible tonnage, threatening to bury him alive in thanks for his service. Inescapable suffocation. Despite his undying dedication to duty, there were times when he wished for a more normal life. A life more peaceful. A life better suited to his age.
He had wrestled the moral implications of his actions in private. It was not that he failed to care. He was still human. He was a husband, a father... and a grandfather, he had to remind himself. First and foremost, his allegiance was to his family. They were citizens of the United Federation. So, in a direct way, his allegiance was to the United Federation in equal measure, was it not? Serving the Guardian Units of Nations. Serving the military. Leading them and making the right calls.
Serving the President. Serving the good guys.
Ah, but define that good.
The voice had taunted him from the recesses of his conscience. People around him would not understand... or believe, for that matter. He had a reputation. Hard edge. Military man. He had always made firm decisions. They usually panned out for the better, too. Morality was not an issue. Never bothered him. Just get the results, soldier.
Just win. Victory.
But nobody was perfect. Nobody was exclusively good. Not in this business.
The Nemesis were a race. A race of machines? Yes. But did that devalue them as a form of life? They showed that they were sentient. They spoke of concepts like ‘self-preservation’ and referred to themselves as individuals. It was not a simple matter of flipping a switch. An individual Nemesis was not a lightbulb. It was a mind. It was self-aware. It had rights and existence.
Not like the robots GUN used in battle. They had no minds. No voice. Using them was not to walk a moral tightrope.
But the Nemesis were the enemy. And the role of the military...?
Fight the enemy.
The Commander resolved his personal quandary and fortified himself against his strategy. He was approaching the subterranean facility’s heart: the Research Core. Here, in one of the most secure caverns to be gouged from the rock, the scientists and professors of GUN research and development worked to further the technology of the battlefield. In the middle of the chrome floor yawned a great chasm. If one wished to look upon the centre of the planet, this was as close as it came. Endless fires of red magma broiled below. It was the only indication of the pit having any kind of bottom. It was also how the facility managed to power itself.
Around the edges of the Research Core were the various men, women and workstations of the engineering department. They enjoyed the heat and the challenge of their environment, claiming it to be inspirational... or, at the very least, motivational. The Commander marched up to the most senior of white laboratory coats and expected no salute. Rank and procedure had long since abandoned this place.
“You got my message?” he growled to announce his arrival.
“Ah, Commander,” the lead developer wheeled around. She was a short woman, the object of workplace flirtation for obvious reasons. Her only passion was for technology, however, and her straightforward demeanour rebuked any suggestion otherwise. “Yes, I did indeed get your message,” she confirmed through large spectacles.
“And...?”
“And we located the old project file, just as you requested.”
“Good. Does the idea have legs?”
There was perplexity. Scientists had small need for colloquial language. “Er, I’m not sure that I understand... you want me to design it to walk?” Halfway through, she realised her mistake. The Commander’s displeased scowl helped. “Oh, you mean... oh, I see!”
“Well, then?”
“I believe we can continue development, yes.”
Good news so far. “Successfully?”
“That remains to be seen, sir. Until we can develop a prototype for testing, that is.”
“Make it a priority.”
The Commander moved to leave the Research Core. With some nervous hesitation, the lead developer followed. She finally tapped at his uniformed shoulder.
“What?” he barked, spinning.
“You do realise that the project was blacklisted, don’t you? According to the file, the risk to the user was deemed too high. And when it says ‘too high’, I think it means ‘fatal’, sir. This is a weapon of mass destruction, something not to be taken lightly. I just... I just thought you should be aware of that.”
“Oh, I’m aware,” came the grave reply. “All too aware, thank you.”
ACT THREE
The whirring of the idle Night Hawk rotor blades blended with the ambience of the jungle behind them. Finding a place to land had been the difficulty it was expected to be. They were approximately two klicks to the west of Shadow’s suspiciously shorter trees, and forced to walk the rest of the distance. Beside the hedgehog, Rouge the Bat flew with unease about her natural surroundings. She was a city girl, through and through, and had a horrible feeling that this little sojourn would be for naught.
Unusually, Shadow had chosen to arm himself with a 9mm handgun. Rouge could tell that something was bothering him. He still had yet to finish telling her exactly why he needed her assistance. And now, here was the Ultimate Lifeform, deliberately brandishing a pistol in the potential face of the enemy?
They barely spoke. One klick passed without event.
Halfway through the second klick, Shadow fell behind. Rouge was distracted by her sonar abilities. She was relying on sound more than sight to detect any possible threats. Everything from the distant rumble of the battalion to the gentle falling of a leaf reverberated with clear quality in her ears. As a result, she did not notice his absence. Only when there was a grunt of pain did she turn.
Shadow was doubled over. His black body contorted in agony.
White gloves had dropped the gun. Rather, they were holding his spiky head. Scarlet eyes were screwed tightly shut. Rouge immediately soared to his side, but was dismissed with a waving gesture. Frantic. Not like Shadow at all.
“Leave me alone,” he struggled to say. “I’ll be alright.”
“Shadow...!”
“I said, leave me alone!”
“No,” she replied firmly, picking up the pistol from the mud. “I won’t. You asked for my help, Shadow, so let me in! Let me help!”
The dismissive hand found a supportive tree trunk and he straightened up. His torso stopped shaking, the white fur on his chest motionless between heavy breathing. Eyes opened again and stared directly at Rouge. It was a calculation. He was trying to predict the consequences of telling her the truth.
Trying to see whether he could truly open up to somebody.
Slowly, he started to find out.
“I signed myself out of the medical bay before the doctors could make an assessment of my physical condition,” he began. “The Commander doesn’t know. Nobody does. I want to keep it that way.”
“Okay,” Rouge nodded with concern. “I promise.”
Shadow sighed. “When the inhibitor rings broke at Circus Park, I was drained of my power, and... I have yet to feel it return. I cannot do any of the things I could before. And initially, I was pleased. I was no longer a weapon, I was... normal. But now I can’t even walk through a jungle. I am weak, empty... useless, and I hate it. I am nothing.”
The melancholy was almost tangible.
Rouge fluttered closer. “Why put yourself through all of this? Why do it?”
“To finish what I started,” Shadow told her. “To protect humanity.”
It was an internal conflict. Something she could not become involved in. On one side raged a history of abuse. Those who would view the hedgehog as nothing more than a weapon. A thing to be used. But the very same power that encouraged such stigma also granted him the ability to fight. To make a difference. To be a hero. With that power absent, he was right. He was just another agent with just another gun.
Rouge sympathised as much as possible. Many would doubt that she cared, thanks to her profession. But that was another stigma. She did care. Shadow was the closest she had ever come to having a friend.
On that note, she handed him back the pistol. He took it, frowning at her.
“You’re not nothing, handsome,” came reassurance. “Trust me.”
Shadow shook his head. “I could get you killed.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence!”
“No, I... uh, I didn’t mean...”
“It’s okay,” she smiled. “Seriously, come on. Let’s go finish what you started.”
The GUN pilot found his fingers to be frustratingly uncooperative. Putting one hand in his mouth, he ripped away a combat glove with his teeth. The dense weave of the fabric was just slowing him down.
Finally, he found the illegal frequency again. “Answer, damn it...!”
“Go ahead.”
“Uh, yeah, they’re gonna be finding the dig site,” he managed to blurt out into his helmet’s headset.
“Who?”
“The hedgehog and his lady friend, the bat.”
At odds with the young traitor’s excited tension, the Nemesis maintained calm. “It was to be expected. Eventually, GUN would have scanned the Lost Jungle in its entirety. They would always have found the dig site. We have long vacated it.” There was a pause. “Confirm the identity of the hedgehog.”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s definitely him. Been flying him all over the place.”
“Good.”
“That’s it? That’s good, is it? How is that good? Tell me how that is good!”
The radio fell silent. There was no answer to his shouting.
Anxiety poured from his brow in beads of sweat.
“Okay,” he seethed with sarcasm. “Okay, fine. I’ll just sit here then...”
“Shadow, look at this!”
They had reached the area of shorter trees. Sure enough, on closer inspection, their top few inches were burned away. Not cut. Not chopped. Burned, leaving behind telltale black marks on the branches and leaves. Rouge floated gracefully back down to ground level as Shadow kept moving.
Something caught his attention. “Over here!”
It was a crater. The floor had been ripped open, as though somebody held a grudge against nature and acted upon it with a very large knife. Inside, at the bottom, were a few discarded spades and pick-axes.
“They dug a hole this big?” Rouge mused aloud.
“No,” Shadow deduced. “This is an impact crater. The treetops suggest an object burning up on re-entry to the atmosphere.”
“And you know this for certain... how?”
“Trust me. Whatever fell is whatever they were digging for.” He pointed to vehicle tracks leading deeper into the jungle. “And they found it. Probably a small meteorite. Or a chunk of a com...”
Rouge saw him freeze. She had the same realisation. “Chunk of a comet!”
Suddenly, as if from nowhere, a small grey ball rolled between them.
And exploded.
There was a brief riot of gunfire. Then nothing but an incessant ringing could be heard. The sensitive ears of a bat stood no chance and Rouge slammed into the mud. Stun grenade. No mistaking the effects. Blindness. Deafness. Up was down, left was right. Helplessness. Total disability. Confusion. Mayhem.
She expected to be grabbed, or worse. But nobody had come for her. When senses finally returned, she found herself alone in the jungle.
All that remained of Shadow was a discarded handgun.
And a patch of blood.
EPILOGUE
It had spilled from a wound to his left arm. In the milliseconds between the stun grenade arriving and detonating, Shadow had turned and spotted the bulky shoulders of a Nemesis in some nearby undergrowth. Despite the subsequent sensory anarchy, he had lifted his weapon and fired several shots in their general direction. The response had been swift. A single shot, perfectly made with robotic accuracy, had grazed his left arm. The pistol was dropped to the floor, as was Shadow.
He awoke to find himself tied to an uncomfortable chair. Temples were aching. Vision blurred. Light came from a single source directly in front of him. Otherwise, he could discern nothing.
That was until somebody spoke.
“The Ultimate Lifeform,” a male voice observed. “I wonder just how strong you are.”
Shadow lurched against his bonds. “Untie me and find out.”
“Oh, I’m good, thanks. The fact that you can’t break free tells me enough.”
The captive hedgehog squinted painfully into the dark from where the snipe had drifted. It was to his right. Hiding in the obscured edges of direct illumination. Somebody was there. At irritatingly slow speed, more detail returned to his sight. Shadow lowered his eyeline and saw a pair of red and white sneakers.
“You,” he gasped. “You’re with the Nemesis!”
The sneakers started to encircle the chair. “I am their guide.” A nose was briefly revealed, in profile against the light, to be long and sharp. It also betrayed an estimation of height at around three feet tall.
This was definitely him. The person Shadow had seen at Circus Park.
“Guide...?”
“Look, there are only two things that you need to know about me, Shadow. Firstly, I adore nature. The way in which your GUN battalion is tearing up the Lost Jungle out there... well, it sickens me, frankly. And GUN being the military in itself hardly helps matters as, secondly, I loathe violence.”
It was strange. He was using passionate language, but with a calm tone. Perhaps it was the control of the situation. Judging from the voice, Shadow guessed a physical age of sixteen, yet experience closer to sixty.
Then the guide emerged into clarity. “To put it another way, this is pretty much the worst prelude two people can have. Don’t you agree?”
White gloves. Black fur. And the critical element that Shadow had been missing.
A solid crimson shell.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Mighty,” came the introduction. “Mighty the Armadillo.”
Written by Glenn Scully
