Almost as if she'd turned to stone.
. . . .
Stone.
Again the visions rekindled in her mind.
The fleeting stars, the dust lapping at her feet, and the entity dancing deep, deep down into the core of the planet.
This time her remembered dream came thick and fast, and was so evocative that it seemed she was falling back into it.
‘Carson,’ she managed to whisper.
‘I'm done with you,’ Carson suddenly concluded as he squared off his shoulders and glared at Varo. ‘You're a danger. Not only to Nida, but to your entire team. We don't need your help. We're leaving.’
‘Carson,’ Nida whispered again.
She was falling into the dream.
It was pulling her down.
‘Carson,’ she tried again, but now she wasn't even sure if she was still speaking.
Everything was turning black.
. . . .
Then she saw the stars. Falling from the sky. Descending down into a single point.
They were not in the night sky though—she watched as flashes of them were transposed over the scene around her.
Her vision started to merge with her view of reality. She could see the dust tumble over the rust-covered floor.
She watched the room around her intermingle with the scene of the broken and ruined buildings of the future Remus 12.
And she saw the entity.
Sinking through the floor.
Leaping.
Dancing.
Pushing.
Descending.
Right through the floor.
‘Carson,’ she said one final time. Then she fell forward. Right into his back as he stood there protectively before her.
She was dimly aware that he turned, caught her, and brought his worry-lined face close to hers.
She watched his lips move and form her name. She watched his eyes flash with concern.
Yet soon the image of him simply disappeared.
She wanted to scream.
She couldn't.
She wanted to reach out a hand to catch him, to hold him in place.
She couldn't.
Instead, she found herself back on the Remus 12 of the future. Back in the dust. Back amongst the rubble and destruction.
Except this time, the night sky was filled with more light than before.
Against the backdrop of the falling stars, she saw shapes.
It took her a long time to realize they were ships.
Destroyed ships.
The sky was littered with engine cores and hull plating and door hatches.
There had been a great, great battle.
She stared up at the harrowing sight.
Though her feet were still anchored into the ground, somehow she could see the rubble floating in space as if she were right next to it.
Her vision simply roamed high above as if no longer constrained by her eyes.
She saw gun turrets melted and destroyed. She saw air hatches warped and buckled.
And she saw people.
Humans. Aliens.
People.
Dead.
Bodies floating in space.
Tumbling in the vacuum.
Lifeless but forced along by the same mysterious force that pulled the stars from the sky.
She screamed.
Her voice could not make it out of her throat though—for every part of her had turned to stone.
Then, in a flash, she saw them.
The uniforms.
The insignias on the sides of the hull fragments floating past her disembodied eyes.
The United Galactic Coalition.
. . . .
The ships and bodies belonged to the United Galactic Coalition.
Now she really screamed.
One continuous, everlasting blast of fear ripping through her.
There were countless, countless destroyed ships in orbit around this planet.
And though she could not tell how many in total, she knew it was a fair chunk of the whole United Galactic Coalition fleet.
Such devastation.
Such total and complete annihilation.
She shook.
Yet she could not move.
She cried.
Yet her stone eyes could not shed a tear.
She dropped to her knees. Yet she could not really move.
Still, in a moment she saw the entity.
The blue energy.
It was enormous now.
It sank so far into the earth, so close to the core of Remus 12.
It was almost there; it had almost reached its goal.
She watched it.
It moved. It surged.
It sought out its goal.
Chapter 11
Carson Blake
She was in his arms, but he couldn't hold her close enough, and nor could he do anything for her.
She was as stiff as stone, her body painfully cold to touch. If it weren't for his armor, he would have dropped her long ago.
But he held on, and he tried to get through to her.
Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head, and he could see the whites staring back at him.
‘Nida,’ he screamed again. ‘Come on,’ he begged.
He didn't care he'd used her real name.
He didn't care.
God, he'd do anything for her, if only he knew what would help.
‘She is having a vision,’ Varo remarked from his side. Though the man's voice was pressured and did reveal some strain, it was calm compared to Carson's frantic screams.
‘What did you do to her?’ Carson accused him. It was irrational. Carson knew Varo hadn't done anything, but the stress of seeing Nida like this was eating through his self-control.
‘She is experiencing a vision of the touched,’ Varo answered easily.
‘Well how the hell do we wake her up?’
‘We don't. We wait for it to finish. Then we take this gift to learn of our future,’ Varo answered quietly. One glance at his face told Carson the man was awed by Nida.
. . . .
Awed.
Nida looked close to death, and Varo appeared completely fine with that.
‘We have to help her,’ Carson spat.
‘Carson,’ Cara said softly by his side.
It was the first time he'd heard her speak without shouting.
It distracted him. He turned to her, never letting go of Nida, but shifting around until he watched Cara come into view.
She walked up to him, her expression a stilled one. ‘Varo is right. There is nothing we can do. We simply wait.’
Carson wanted to believe her, but that didn't stop him from gripping Nida tighter. He had to be careful not to hold her too tightly, lest his armored grip cut off her circulation.
But he simply could not let her go.
And neither could he stand there and do nothing.
Instead, he commanded the on-board computer of his armor to scan her. Though it picked up significant interference from an unknown source—probably the entity—it eventually confirmed Nida was alright.
Or alive at least.
Her organs weren't failing, and though she felt as if she was colder than deep space, her blood hadn't frozen in her veins.
Just as he raced to figure out what to do, she slackened in his grip.
Her body simply went loose. Whereas once she had felt like reinforced steel, like a statue painted to look exactly like a human, now her head lolled against his chest as her arms became limp against his.
‘Nida,’ he cried, bringing one hand up to push her hair from her face as he stared down at her.
Her white eyes had finally closed, and after several pressured moments she let out a moan.
He could have dropped her from the relief that small and reassuring sound sent through him.
‘Nida,’ he kept pushing her hair from her face; it was the only thing he could do as he waited for her to regain her senses.
It was
agonizing to watch. He wanted, no needed, to be back at the Academy. With doctors. With modern science and medical technology.
Instead, he was stuck in the past, and while he could scan her with his armor, he could only manufacture rudimentary drugs under its instruction. He couldn't reach down and fix her.
Slowly she came around.
Her skin wasn't just white anymore.
It was completely pale.
But it also glowed, however faintly.
He hated that glow. Once he'd found it intriguing, even beautiful, now it reminded him of the horrible things happening to her, and how agonizingly little he could do to stop them.
‘Carson?’ she eventually asked.
‘Nida,’ he breathed. ‘Oh god. Are you alright?’ He stopped pushing the hair from her face. Instead, his fingers froze just a few centimeters from her cheek.
She looked confused.
Then she choked, her eyes drawing wide and filling with tears. Drawing in a ragged and sudden breath that saw her chest slam into his, she crumpled against his chest, burrowing her face right against his armor.
‘Nida,’ he tried to pull her back, tried to get a look at her to confirm she was still okay.
He couldn't though. She simply locked herself against him, and he didn't need his armor to tell him her cheeks were now slick with tears.
He didn't know what to do.
So he didn't do anything.
He didn't, no, couldn't, push her away.
He stood there, his arms around hers, waiting.
It took a long time, but she finally pushed herself up.
She looked a mess.
. . . .
More than that, she looked shocked.
That was it.
The fear playing through her eyes told him she’d just witnessed a terrifying surprise.
‘What happened?’ he croaked.
She shook her head, clearly incapable of blinking as she stared at him with red-rimmed pupils.
‘Tell us what you saw,’ Varo asked softly from behind.
Carson could have whirled on his foot to punch the guy out. It was only years of training that stopped him. Still, if Varo kept pushing, that training would evaporate.
Nida didn't react. Instead, she kept one hand locked on Carson's. His armor told him her grip was a strong one. He didn't need the computer to note that though; he could see how frantically she held him by how white her knuckles had turned. They stood defined as perfect bone-white ridges against her dappled and pink skin.
‘You have been given a vision of the future,’ Varo continued. ‘Share with us—’
‘Shut up,’ Carson snapped, his voice like a whip.
At the term 'vision of the future', Nida started to tremble.
She shook so badly, Carson quickly scanned her to confirm there was nothing wrong with her muscles.
‘The future?’ she repeated, her voice a hoarse, croaky mess. ‘That happens in the future? No,’ she began, tears welling in her eyes. Her cheeks were now slick and wet, strands of her fringe pressed into them.
‘All visions from the Goddess come to pass unless we know how to stop them,’ Varo added. He still sounded calm.
Damn that man, he still sounded calm.
He appeared completely unaffected by what had just happened.
And it was clear all he wanted was to pry Nida's so-called vision out of her.
The anger built and built within Carson, bubbling up through his bones and churning through his blood.
‘Leave her alone,’ he warned through gritted teeth.
‘We must find out what she has seen so we can add it to the visions of past touched, so we can put together a full picture of our future,’ Varo continued, clearly undaunted by Carson’s growing rage.
‘I said shut up. Stop pushing her,’ Carson snapped his head around to stare at Varo.
He was close, perilously close to snaking around and slamming his armored fist into that arrogant man's face.
Something stopped him though.
It wasn't Nida.
It was Cara.
She stepped forward, and without laying a hand on his shoulder to stop him, simply stared into his eyes.
Again she used that unique, powerful attention.
It stilled him.
Wrapped up in it was so much wisdom and strength, it felt as if he were being reprimanded by an admiral.
He swallowed, not blinking.
‘Nobody's pushing anyone. And we will give her time. But we also need to know,’ she added quietly. It was strange to hear her voice so low and measured. She seemed like the kind of woman who took everything head-on, blasting away at it with her fists. Yet now she spoke with calm, measured, almost gentle control. ‘Finding out the contents of a touched vision could change the course of the resistance.’
‘What?’ Carson asked simply. A far-off part of him was aware he shouldn't be so obvious in asking his questions. He had to control how he sought out information. If the people before him knew how clueless he was about facts that appeared central to Vexian culture, they would start to suspect something was wrong.
Yet right now it didn't matter. Because Nida was a mess in his arms and he had to find out how to fix it.
‘The government—they hold the visions of past touched. They use them to control history. They align themselves with the winning sides of whatever battles or wars or skirmishes the touched witness. They garner information on technologies of the future. They create, they hide, they manipulate. If the resistance could find out . . .’ Cara trailed off as she glanced at Nida. ‘It could help,’ Cara finished quietly.
Carson stood there, immobilized by indecision and shock.
Several days ago when they had come through the time gate, Carson hadn't truly understood what this mission would entail.
Of course he'd realized it would be hard.
But this wasn't hard; it was bone-crushingly impossible.
Nida stirred, and tried to pull away from him, but he still kept a hand on her shoulder.
He wasn't going to let her fall.
She didn't shrug out of his grip. Instead, she brought her hand up and locked it over his.
His armor told him the warmth was returning to her fingers.
They were still cold though.
Yet slowly, ever so slowly, the color came back to her cheeks.
However that shell-shocked look did not shift.
She looked as if she'd just been through hell. Or maybe she'd seen it.
Despite Carson's snapped warnings to Varo that they shouldn't push her, Carson now needed to know what Nida had seen.
He looked down at her. ‘What . . . happened?’ he asked carefully.
She didn't answer. Instead, she simply stared at him. Again it appeared as though she was no longer capable of blinking as tears still streaked slowly but steadily down her cheeks.
He wanted to brush them away, but it was inappropriate.
Yet his hands still did it. He pushed his armored thumb over her cheek, and she didn't pull back.
Then silence descended.
Varo did not command her to tell them anything, and neither did Cara ask in a deceptively soft voice to be told what Nida had seen.
Instead, they all waited.
‘Nida?’ he prodded softly.
She closed her eyes.
She kept them closed as she pushed against him. Hooking a hand onto his head and anchoring one onto his shoulder, she pulled him down until she whispered in his ear, ‘the United Galactic Coalition destroyed,’ she answered simply.
He straightened.
No, he bolted upright, her hands slipping from off his shoulder and from around his head.
All the blood drained from him.
All the hope died too.
Until all he could do was stand there, stock still, the shock echoing through him like blasts from a gun.
‘What is it?’ Cara prompted carefully. ‘What did she see?’
Carson didn't reply
. He couldn't.
Though Cara was keen to learn of her future, Nida's vision didn't belong to her.
Nida began to cry again. It was soft yet strangled, her tears having now dried up. But her shoulders still shook forward, her balance unsteady.
. . . .
She had to be wrong, he told himself.
She had to be confused.
She hadn't seen the United Galactic Coalition destroyed; the United Galactic Coalition couldn't be destroyed. They held the balance of power in the Milky Way. They had the strongest alliances, the strongest weapons, and the most secure solar systems and transportation routes.
They simply could not be destroyed.
While the Barbarians and Kore were a growing threat, they were manageable. Yes, the United Galactic Coalition had lost cruisers, yes, it had lost one or two research facilities. But that was nothing compared to the United Galactic Coalition as a whole. Made up of hundreds of planets, it was the strongest force in the Milky Way.
Yet with one look down at Nida, her palpable shock shot through Carson's resolve.
He doubted she was lying, and it was clear that whatever she had seen had shaken her badly.
He swallowed.
‘Tell us,’ Varo said, insistence ringing through his tone.
‘We need to know,’ Cara agreed.
No, they really didn't. Neither of them would know what the United Galactic Coalition was, and neither of them would be moved by the fact an enormous interstellar group from the future would one day be destroyed.
‘We must know,’ Varo continued. ‘Please, it is of utmost importance for the Vexians to take hold of their own future,’ he added.
This wouldn't help them take control of their future. But if Carson chose to remain silent, he knew Cara and Varo wouldn't let up.
So he took a breath and thought. ‘It's about . . . the eventual destruction of Vex,’ he finally said.
It was a lie, but it wasn't really a lie.
Vex would be destroyed in the future. While that wasn't what Nida had seen, that didn't change the fact it was true.
Both Cara and Varo stilled.
Their eyes drew wide.
He watched as their expressions changed from sickly shock to outrage and then back to shock.
‘You lie,’ Varo tried.
‘He's right,’ Nida finally spoke. ‘I saw the . . . destruction of the Vex. This planet . . . something happens to it. Some kind of weapon. It destroys the surface, makes it inhospitable to life. Everything is turned to rolling dust.’
Ouroboros 2: Before Page 15
