She couldn't. That memory kept on beckoning her. And it had something to do with blue light. In fact, now she paused long enough, she realised she’d been fascinated by blue light ever since she’d returned from that rather ill-fated mission to the barren Remus 12.
It had been several days now, and she had made a complete recovery. Somehow, some precious how, she had fallen over in the dark, cracked a rib, sprained an ankle, given herself a severe concussion, and cut her fingers and cheek.
She still didn't remember how she'd done it though.
All she could recall about that day was being sent back to the compound by Sharpe after she’d led Blake to the mysterious stairs. Then she recalled nothing until she remembered waking up on-board the Orion.
Everyone was sure she had just fallen over, and to be fair, she was one of them. She knew first-hand how clumsy she could be, and considering she had already broken a scanner that day on the planet by tripping over a rock, it wasn't so much of a stretch to imagine she had broken herself by tripping over another rock.
. . . .
So she tried to ignore the lights. Those flashes of blue.
It was just her memory playing tricks on her.
Concluding that, she got back to the important task of ignoring the lecture.
While the cadet next to her had a rather rapt look of attention on his face, she did not, and she couldn't muster the energy required to try.
Sharpe already knew she was a complete disaster when it came to the use of her telekinetic implant.
Whilst everybody in her class had moved on from coffee cups to actual weapons, she hadn't, and she never would.
She didn't, apparently, have the concentration and control for it.
Telekinetic implants worked by allowing you to control certain objects that had been impregnated with a specialised magnetic material. The implant was hooked up to your central nervous system and right into your motor cortex. With just a thought, you could command the implant to put out a field and manipulate any material nearby with that necessary specialised magnetic substance inside.
It was incredible technology, and was one of the reasons the Galactic Coalition Academy had become as powerful as it was.
It couldn't be used everywhere, though, and it certainly couldn't be used on anything; implants only worked on objects that had the right magnetised material in them.
Feeling satisfied that she clearly already knew everything she needed to, Nida indulged in closing her eyes and forced a quiet, careful breath.
Then she waited, listening with only half an ear as the lecture continued. In another hour, it was over.
She carefully and discretely made her way out of the back entrance, hoping that Sharpe wouldn't have the time to race around and catch her.
He didn't, and with a small, satisfied smile, she hurried along the corridor.
In fact, she ran so fast she rounded the corner before checking to see if anyone was coming from the other direction.
Someone was, and she bumped straight into him.
Swearing softly, she jolted back, then looked up to see none other than Carson Blake.
He blinked at her, muttered sorry, then moved to walk off. Then he stopped. “Hold on, you're Cadet Harper, from the mission to planet Remus 12,” his pupils widened with clear interest.
She winced. “Yes, that would be me. Are you going to get me in trouble for losing your scanner?” she babbled quickly, searching for a reason to explain his sudden interest.
“My scanner . . . oh, yeah, we did leave that behind, didn't we?” He looked thoughtful as he muttered a soft “ha.”
She breathed a sigh of relief when she realised he wasn't about to add another complaint against her to Commander Sharpe.
“How are you?” he asked with genuine interest.
She blinked back her surprise. Why did he care? She was just a walking accident and the worst recruit in 1000 years, and he was Carson Freaking Blake.
He smiled at her encouragingly.
He didn’t look like he was acting, and with a quick look around her, she realised there was no one around he could be trying to impress by compassionately asking after her.
“Ah,” she mumbled, realising her pause had become uncomfortably long, “fine. I mean, they fixed me up,” she added awkwardly.
“Do you remember what happened?” he now asked, dropping his tone as several cadets walked past them.
She stopped.
She was about to say she had just fallen over, and it was nothing to worry about, but as she opened her mouth, the words wouldn't come out.
Instead, sudden blue flashes filled her mind, like fireflies dancing frantically at the corners of her vision.
She shook her head when she realised she couldn’t just stand there with her mouth open looking dumbstruck, and offered what she hoped was a reassuring smile. “That kind of stuff always happens to me. I'm really sorry,” she added, “about your scanner.”
He laughed. It was an odd move. It was as if he wasn't sure whether he should chuckle at her, but couldn't quite stop himself. “It's okay. It wasn't exactly mine. I had another one built as soon as we got back to the Orion.”
She smiled, sucking at her teeth as she did in what was perhaps the geekiest move she could make.
She couldn’t help herself.
Because, well, this . . . was weird. And awkward, really, hideously awkward.
“Sorry again,” she managed, backing off, realising she had to get away before she tripped over her own legs and crumpled at his feet.
Then she heard a voice behind her.
One that rumbled up like a volcano splitting the earth.
Commander Sharpe.
She winced again, this time as if she were about to be chopped in half.
Because likely she would be.
She turned to see him march up beside her.
“Late again,” he said tersely, “do you deliberately go out of your way to earn reprimands from me?”
She wanted to ask whether he deliberately went out of his way to torture her, but she held her tongue. “No, sir,” she answered, knowing exactly what he wanted to hear. “I just . . . ,” she trailed off. She could come up with all sorts of outlandish excuses, like being chased by mercenaries, or waking up on a foreign planet and having to find her way back to class in a jiffy. They were all lies though. But at least they’d hide the truth, because the truth was truly pathetic.
She had overslept.
“Don't bother,” Sharpe sighed heavily, “just report to detention, again,” he spoke to her with a long-suffering tone, and shot her a look that made it clear he was sick of dealing with her antics.
She turned around glumly, barely noticing as Blake offered her a friendly, commiserating smile.
Her heart sunk at how much trouble she was about to get in.
What was worse, she had a mound of assignments. It had taken her longer than usual to bounce back from her fall on Remus 12. The broken bone had knitted quickly, and the medical team had dealt with the concussion as fast as Coalition doctors could. But it had taken her several days of rest until her mind had come back to her.
For those several days a strange fog had descended over her, and the doctors had explained it away by theorising she was just tired and stressed.
Now, she was even more tired and even more stressed.
Walking to her next class, she settled into a melancholic slump.
The rest of the day passed, thankfully without further incident, and soon enough she found herself back in her quarters.
She did not enter her apartment to peace, however, for Alicia was running around frantically.
As soon as Nida entered, Alicia snapped up, her expression filling with relief. “There you are. I was worried you would never return. Now you can help me clean,” she announced at once. “This place is a tip.”
Nida stood there for a moment, raising her eyebrow slightly. She didn't exactly have the gumption to point out to Alicia that the
re was nothing stopping the woman from cleaning up after herself. Because one look around this room would confirm that every dirty dish, mound of clothes, or pile of data pads on the couch belonged to Alicia. Nida cleaned up after herself, hell, she’d even managed to do it over the past several days whilst she’d been convalescing.
“Don't just stand there,” Alicia announced, her irritation clear as she whisked a hand towards the couch and pointed at an enormous pile of clothes. “Help me move those into my room.”
Mutely, Nida walked over, grabbed the clothes, and marched them into Alicia’s pigsty of a bedroom.
“Why exactly are we doing this?” Nida asked as she walked back into the main room.
“Boys,” Alicia answered clearly.
Nida rolled her eyes. Why had she bothered to ask? There was only one thing Alicia cared about, and that was men.
There was also only one thing she ever bothered cleaning the apartment for. Men, again.
Usually Alicia didn't invite any guys back to their apartment because it was such a tip, that and Nida hated walking in from a long hard day at the Academy to find her flat mate rolling around on the couch with her latest catch.
“Oh, don't look at me like that,” Alicia actually stamped her foot. “They are just coming here before we go out. We'll be out of your hair pretty quick,” she fobbed a hand Nida's way as she walked over to the enormous pile of dirty dishes in the sink.
“They?” Nida asked as she narrowed her eyes. “You mean, you have more than one date?”
Alicia harrumphed. “No, I've organised a double date.”
For a moment, Nida stood there, stock still, fear rising through her belly like a tidal wave.
Alicia clearly saw Nida’s shocked expression, and she tipped her head back and laughed. “Oh my god, not for you, not for you,” she emphasised as she chuckled even harder. “For Bridget. Don't be an idiot,” Alicia walked past her and clasped a hand on her shoulder, “I would never organise a double date for you.”
Nida didn't know whether to be relieved or insulted, so she decided ignoring Alicia was best, and she picked her way through the open kitchen towards her room.
The apartment was split into three rooms. The enormous shared living space in the middle that had a lounge, kitchen, and a big table directed at that enormous view through the plate glass windows. On either side of that room were Alicia and Nida's bedrooms. Both bedrooms had their own bathrooms, personal computers, beds, and storage spaces.
If it weren't for Alicia's mess, this place would be beautiful, but you didn't get to pick your roommates at the Academy.
“Hey, what are you doing? Come back here and help me clean up this mess,” Alicia demanded.
“Look, I've had a really long day, and I’m still feeling kind of . . . funny,” Nida managed with a swallow.
“Oh, get over it. I know you fell over and bumped your head,” Alicia gave a surprised laugh, clearly amused that someone could do themselves so much damage by tripping up, “but that was several days ago, and the doctors gave you the all clear yesterday. Now you have no excuse, so help me clean up your mess.”
“My mess?” Nida challenged in a rare moment of bravery.
Alicia opened her mouth to say yes, but clearly thought better of it. “Our mess,” she tried instead. “Now hurry.”
“Why? When will they get here?” Nida turned to look at the door, ready to see several bright and handsome cadets sweep in to vie for Alicia’s attention.
Alicia was stunning. The kind of stunning that knew it was stunning, and leveraged every favour from that fact.
“Oh, they’re not coming tonight; they’re coming tomorrow night. But I have to go out soon, so we need to clean now,” Alicia announced.
Nida closed her eyes for a moment, pursed her lips, and blew a breath of air against her ragged fringe. “I'm tired, and I need a shower. I’ll clean up later,” she winked one eye open to see Alicia standing there with her hands on her hips.
“No, we’re cleaning now. You can shower later.”
With a fresh new groan at how terrible her life was, Nida didn't complain any further, and got to work. Whilst Alicia faffed around, Nida did all the real work, and soon enough the apartment was sparkling.
“Okay, fantastic,” Alicia clapped her hands together. “Everything is ready for tomorrow.”
Nida walked towards her bedroom door, but paused before she opened it. She turned around to consider her flat mate. “Why exactly do you care so much? You go out on dates all the time. Why are these guys any different?”
Alicia's eyes sparkled with a particularly frightening fervour. She took on such a strong and powerful and triumphant stance that it looked as if she were about to preside over the conquering of the galaxy. “They are graduates. Full lieutenants, in fact,” she said, that smile of hers reminding Nida of a rabid dog.
Rolling her eyes, Nida now understood.
“Oh, whatever,” Alicia snapped. “Now go and have your shower. And if you can make yourself scarce tomorrow night, it would be greatly appreciated.”
Nida shook her head. “I promise you, I have no intention of coming out of my room tomorrow to interrupt your double date with Bridget and a pair of lieutenants,” she noted sharply as she walked through her door and it closed behind her.
Reaching her bed, she gave her pillow a firm, almost petulant punch. Then she hugged it in both arms, squished her face into it, and groaned. Loudly.
She was lucky that these rooms were relatively soundproof, otherwise Alicia would be pounding on the door and screaming at her to shut up.
After several minutes of punching her pillow and groaning into it, Nida finally grew a backbone, sat up, and told herself it was time to get over it.
Yes, she was unlucky, yes, she'd gotten in trouble today for sleeping in, but what help would moping about it do?
The answer was it wouldn't help at all.
Forcing herself at least to try to do a few of her outstanding assignments, it wasn't long until Nida finally went to bed.
She slept like a log, as always. But every now and then throughout the night she would wake, her eyes forcing themselves open as if the lids had been dragged apart by speeding cruisers. And though she could not tell it, little flashes of blue light erupted deep within the pupils with the brilliance of supernovas in a starless sky.
Chapter 4
Carson Blake
He was bored. Completely and utterly bored. He couldn't think of anything worse than preparing for a lecture.
He had never once considered a career as an academic, yet for some damn reason, they continually invited him back to give talks to the undergrads.
As he paced in front of the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows in his apartment, he tried not to look at his reflection.
Because he looked like an idiot.
“Okay, class,” he began in his fake teacher-like tone, “the correct use of your telekinetic implant takes time. But with the following exercises, and a lot of diligent practice, you will soon find yourself getting better,” he gave a fake smile, then made the mistake of glancing at his reflection and realising just how dumb he looked.
Swearing, he took a step back, flopped a hand at the window, and walked over to the couch. With a groan, he let his knees buckle, and he fell with a soft thump onto it. Reaching for one of the cushions, he banged his head against it.
“I shouldn't be here,” he whispered aloud, his voice croaky and smothered by the soft fabric around his mouth.
Though he understood the importance of teaching the new wave of cadets coming through the Galactic Coalition Academy, surely his skills could be better utilised elsewhere?
Like back on that damn planet, Remus 12.
When the United Galactic Coalition Council had put together the mission, they’d called it a simple exploratory operation. But that was clearly crap, because you didn't send the Force along to something as wimpy as an exploratory operation.
Not unless you expected trouble.<
br />
. . . .
So why exactly had the United Galactic Coalition Council sent the Force to that remote, desolate, wasteland of a planet then?
It had been a waste of everybody's time, and that random cadet with the unruly black hair had injured herself.
Had injured herself . . . .
How?
Not for the first time and not for the last, he pushed himself up and pondered that fact.
She'd received a broken rib for god's sake. How exactly did you give yourself one of those by tripping over?
While everybody else had been willing to accept the probability she’d just fallen over, he wasn't. Because it didn't make any sense. How exactly did you break your rib and give yourself a serious concussion by tripping yourself up?
Cadet—what was her name? Cadet Harper, yes, that's it, Cadet Harper—seemed like a serious klutz, granted, but she’d fractured the back of her skull and had broken her rib just below the sternum. How had she done that? Had she rolled down a rocky incline? Had she taken a tumble off a cliff?
No—he’d found her on flat ground, with nothing but dust all around her.
. . . .
Blake shook his head.
He had a lecture to prepare for, and the United Galactic Coalition Council had hinted they were about to send the Force on an extremely important mission. Yet here he was, wondering how a simple little cadet could beat herself up so bad.
“Get over it,” he growled at himself.
Then the computer in his room gave a beep and reminded him in a bored, electronic tone that he had half an hour to finish preparing his lecture and get to class.
He swore loudly, and he fancied the sound of it bounced off the walls.
Standing up, he raced over to his room, and selected a dress uniform from his wardrobe.
Yep, a dress uniform. He was giving a lecture, and yet they expected him to look as if he was about to entertain an ambassador or sign a galactic treaty.
Grumbling even more, he pulled on the uniform then strode out into the main room. Catching his reflection in the glass, he grimaced.
Now he would look even sillier whilst giving this dumb talk. Because, let's face it, while he could defeat mercenaries and terrorist factions, he had zero talent for teaching.
Ouroboros 1: Start Page 4
