She took several steps back, clasped her hands in front of her again, then looked over at the view screen.
It took him a moment to realise she was waiting for him to put his shirt back on.
He cleared his throat, feeling like a complete idiot, then practically jumped off the chair, snatched it up, and crammed it over his head as quickly as he could.
“Thanks,” he said again.
But she didn't turn to him and she didn't respond. Instead, she stared, without blinking, at the view screen.
“Nida?” he asked in a quiet, cautious tone.
Again, she didn't reply. That blue light in her eyes flashed, and he knew the entity must be taking hold.
“We will arrive there shortly,” he reassured it.
Now she turned. Now she faced him. “I hope it will be that easy,” the entity said.
The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and a fresh wash of fear rushed through him. “It will be. This is Coalition space, and though we ran into those Barbarian ships, there won't be any more. Plus, I don't think they will be bothering you again,” he added, his voice shaking with disbelief. He could remember, in perfect detail, how the entity had dispatched those Barbarians.
With bone-chilling efficiency.
Whatever the entity was, it was powerful. Yet if it was right, it was also incredibly dangerous. If it stayed much longer in this space-time, it would corrupt. And from the brief explanation Carson had been given, corruption didn't sound like a good thing.
Taking a breath and re-engaging his resolve, he nodded at her. “Everything will be fine,” he promised once more.
The entity stiffened, then he realised it wasn't the entity any more.—it was Nida. She looked uncomfortable for a moment, then shook her head. “It's very strange . . . having something in your mind that can control your body,” she admitted.
He wanted to laugh and point out that was an understatement, but he didn't. Instead he watched her in silence, then gave what he hoped was a commiserating nod. “We're almost there,” he pointed out uselessly. God, he felt like he was simply repeating the same empty statements over and over again. It will all be okay; we're almost there; everything will be fine soon. He probably sounded as if he'd hit his head.
“I think I might . . . have a shower,” Nida announced.
Carson went to say sure, but shook his head. He didn't want her going into the rest of the ship.
She saw his movement, and her eyebrows crumpled down. “It's okay,” she began,” I can . . . ,” she trailed off.
“The Barbarian bodies,” he took a long time to say the word bodies, “are still out there,” he finally admitted to her. “Maybe you should stay in here.”
Even under the blue, incandescent glow of her cheeks, he swore she paled. Her gaze drifted down to the ground, and she stared at her shoes. Then she shook her head. “I . . . am okay,” she began. “What am I saying? I killed those men,” she brought her hands up and stared at them.
Once he'd been hesitant to touch her, but now that didn't seem to matter any more. He crossed the distance between them, grabbed her hands, and pushed them down.
She didn't jerk back, but she did shift her head up until she looked at him.
“Just don't think about it. Don't think about anything until we get to Remus 12. And I know you want a shower and maybe a fresh change of clothes,” he mumbled as he looked down at her. Firstly, she was wearing a hospital gown. Secondly, it had blast marks over it, and there were holes peppered here and there. “So just wait . . . until I . . . deal with the stuff outside,” he gestured over his shoulder to the rest of the ship.
She looked as though she would be sick.
“You didn't kill them,” he said through clenched teeth, his words sounding far more dismayed than he'd intended.
Though her gaze flashed with guilt, she eventually closed her eyes. “I could have stopped it,” she admitted, “I managed to stop it from killing you. Which meant that if I had tried just a little harder, or cared a little more, I could have stopped it from killing the Barbarians too.”
He spluttered. He couldn't help it. “Listen to yourself. If you had stopped the entity from killing the Barbarians, the Barbarians would have killed you. They aren't nice, caring people, Nida. They are violent, homicidal, vicious psychopaths. Do you want me to go through the number of crimes they have committed? Would you like me to list the number of worlds they have ransacked? Should I tell you what happened a couple of years ago when they managed to get their hands on a Coalition heavy cruiser and all its crew?”
She shuddered back, but he still held hold of her hand.
“I know this is hard, but really, just don't think about it. And thank you,” he added in a husky voice at the end.
This made her look up. She locked her shifting, wavering gaze on him. “For what?” she mouthed the words, clearly incapable of saying them.
“For saving me. For stopping . . . the entity,” he managed.
It was so strange to speak of the entity whilst it was right there inside her, and could take control of her at any moment. But it didn't matter. He wanted to reach out and communicate with Nida right now; he needed to reassure her.
Though she did not look happy and guilt still flashed in her eyes, she finally took a deep breath. “You shouldn't have to deal with the . . . bodies on your own,” she whispered.
“No,” he said firmly, “I will deal with them on my own. I need somebody here to look after the bridge,” he added, coming up with a quick and very effective excuse. “Academy regulations state that when a crew consists of two or more people, there should always be at least one manning the bridge. And that, Cadet, will be you.”
She opened her mouth, clearly ready to argue the point.
He shook his head, finally dropping her hand. “I'm afraid that's an order,” he said in a lower tone close to a growl, but nowhere near as angry.
She pursed her lips together and finally nodded.
She took several steps away from him, pushing her hair behind her ears as she did.
It was such a dramatic sight to see her encased in that blue light.
It was easy to allow himself to be fully distracted by it. To be completely mesmerised.
He wanted the time and opportunity to assess that light, to watch it as it danced over her skin. He of course would not get the time, and he certainly wouldn't get the opportunity. Things were awkward enough between them as it was without sitting there and staring at her face for several hours.
Gulping at his own uncomfortable thought, he finally turned around and walked out.
As the doors to the bridge closed behind him, his heart closed with them.
He had seen dead bodies before. It was part of space travel.
Yes, things were safer now than they had been in the past. Ships didn't decompress as much; the technology was vastly superior to the bad old days of initial interstellar travel. There were also less wars and violent disputes. But that didn't mean that every Coalition soldier would always be safe.
So yes, he had seen his fair share of death, and unfortunately, he had meted it out too.
But it never made it easy.
Especially dealing with the aftermath.
With a heavy breath and heavy footsteps, he toured the ship.
He didn't even want to count how many Barbarians there were. Instead, he attended to the grisly task of dealing with their bodies.
At some point, the entity had stopped pinning them to the ceiling or the walls, and they were now all flopped face first on the floor. There were several bodies, however, that he was responsible for, and as he walked up to the Barbarian he had shot outside of his bedroom, Carson had to slam a hand on his stomach not to throw up everywhere.
The stench was . . . simply indefinable. It was on a scale the human nose was not designed to tolerate.
It made him gag.
But somehow, he pushed through.
Though the Barbarians were, by definition, barb
aric when it came to the disposal of enemy bodies, he worked for the United Galactic Coalition. And he respected the rights of the dead.
It took almost half an hour, and by the time it was over, he felt heavy and cold all over.
He also realised he couldn't return to the bridge. Not looking and feeling like this. So instead, he set about the task of assessing the damage to the ship. He also took the opportunity to remove all TI objects he could. He didn’t want any on board with Nida. So he gathered them up and locked them deep within one of the armoury cupboards.
He simply could not run the risk of another accident. Plus, even if the inconceivable happened, and more Barbarians attacked, the TI objects and weapons would be of no use; the Barbarians all possessed technology capable of blocking TI fields. There were only certain races who couldn’t block TI fields, and unfortunately, those brutes weren’t one of them.
Nonetheless, it would be an inconvenience; TI objects could be used to make many ship processes more efficient.
Still, if it meant stopping more accidents, he’d throw those damn objects out of the airlock. He simply couldn’t put up with another TI block or pole trying to impale her.
Gathering up all the TI objects on the ship, he soon made it to the engine room.
As he entered, he expected to see a mess.
What he saw instead was a strange, pulsing, blue light flickering around the dual engine cores.
He recognised at once that it was the entity.
It had already told him that despite the damage this ship had received, it would get the Farsight to Remus 12.
He stood there and stared at that blue light dancing and wriggling and jumping around the engine cores.
It was strangely relaxing. It helped him forget what he'd just done.
He couldn't tell how long he stood there staring at them, waiting for the warmth and emotion to return to him.
Then he heard a soft voice behind him. “Carson? Are you okay?”
He turned to see Nida standing in the doorway.
His immediate reaction was to shout at her to get back to the bridge. He hadn't wanted her to see any of the destruction her entity had caused. But he'd already dealt with the bodies, and frankly, there was no way he could repair the ship on his own.
He was aware that she was staring at him, and as he briefly glanced her way, he noted just how sorrowful her expression was. “I'm sorry you had to do that on your own,” she said in a raspy voice.
He shook his head, trying to appear strong, but it was a poor, pathetic effort. He closed his eyes instead, actually fearful he might shed a tear.
Then he felt a soft, small hand on his arm.
It was Nida.
“We're almost there,” she said in a quiet voice. “It's almost over, right?”
Though he wanted to keep his eyes still firmly closed, he opened them. She was right there in front of him, and he could see that incredible light playing across her skin like the reflected glow of a bright burning fire.
Just as the light of the engine cores had calmed him, the blue glow encasing her comforted him also. Or maybe it wasn't the glow; maybe it was Nida herself.
“You should go back to the bridge,” she tried, “otherwise you'll be breaking Academy regulations.”
Despite how cold he still felt, he raised an eyebrow. “You're the one breaking regulations. I ordered you to stay there.”
“When you didn't return, I got kind of worried,” she admitted in a quiet voice, “plus, I'm pretty sure there is a counter regulation that states when a crew member has been out of contact for an extended amount of time, you are permitted to leave the bridge to look for them.”
Somehow, he managed a smile. And somehow, that smile made everything feel just a little bit better. It did not wash away what he had just dealt with, but it made it seem a tiny bit easier to bear. “I guess you're right, Cadet. But I'm pretty sure you shouldn't be telling me what to do,” he managed, forcing a half smile again.
“Are you sure? I do possess an entity of unfathomable power,” she tried.
He wanted to laugh at her joke, but it fell flat. It touched far too close to the bone. Instead, he patted her shoulder and stepped away.
Yep, he patted her shoulder, as if he was some kind of overbearing father figure.
He wanted to cringe at his own behaviour, but he didn't have the time. “I will return to the bridge, and you should be okay to have your shower now,” he announced.
“Okay. But maybe you should . . . ,” she began.
“Yes?”
“I don't know, but maybe you should put your armour back on,” she suggested.
This made him frown. “You don't like my uniform?”
She didn't laugh. “I don't know what we're going to find down on Remus 12,” she stated, her voice becoming croaky, almost to the point that he could no longer understand it.
He frowned deeply now, and the move reminded him of just how cold he felt. “What are you saying?”
“I don't really know. I just get this sense . . . that things might not be over yet. I think you should return to the bridge and put your armour on. I think we should be prepared before we go down to the planet.”
He considered her quietly, then nodded. She was right. “I'll do one better; I'll manufacture a proper set of armour for myself. If you give me your specifications, I'll make one for you too,” he began.
She shook her head. “We will not be constrained,” the entity interrupted.
Carson opened his mouth to protest, but stopped.
He wasn't dumb enough to argue with the entity. Instead, he nodded. “Okay, no armour. You can have your shower now,” he suggested, watching carefully to see whether the entity would be placated.
With a confused blink, the real Nida appeared to return. Giving an awkward wave, she walked out, mumbling that she would be quick.
He watched her go.
Then he sprang into action.
And it felt good.
Action was the one thing that could stop him from thinking about the horrors he'd just witnessed.
He would build himself the perfect set of armour, and he would be prepared. For what, he didn't know, but he would be as prepared as he could be.
That strengthened his resolve, and immediately Carson set to work.
Chapter 29
Cadet Nida Harper
It felt unbelievably good to have a shower. It felt like she was washing the past away.
Once she'd dried herself and dressed in a clean but overly large Academy uniform, she felt ready to face Carson again.
Before she did, she reminded herself firmly to stop acting like a complete freaking idiot around him.
She was being a total goose, and she didn't know why.
Okay, that was a lie; she knew exactly why.
Carson was turning out to be different from the man she'd assumed him to be.
And that was throwing her off guard.
He was kinder and funnier and subtler and gentler than his reputation allowed for.
As she walked onto the bridge, he turned to face her. He was standing in the centre, with his hands clasped firmly behind his back.
He was also wearing a particularly incredible set of armour.
It was black with gold and red trimming, and the insignia of the Academy on his left breast, with the insignia of the United Galactic Coalition on his right upper shoulder.
He wasn't wearing a helmet, but she knew he could force the armour to produce one with nothing more than the press of a button or a single thought.
“You ready?” he asked with a flash of a smile as she entered. “And where did you . . . find those clothes? They are about three sizes too big for you.”
She looked down. Yes, okay, so the sleeves hung over her hands, and the pants trailed a little bit past her boots, but she just shrugged. “This was the smallest size I could find in one of the lockers.”
“You're going to trip over your pants,” he announced with a snigger.
“Then I'll tuck them into my boots,” she retorted as she got down on her knees and tucked the hems firmly into her socks.
This elicited a chuckle from Carson. “Fashionable,” he teased.
She finished tucking her pants into her boots and stood. She stared at him and crossed her arms. “I really don't think it matters whether I'm fashionable, do you?”
He shrugged, clearly conceding her point.
Then it happened again.
The awkwardness set in.
It was coming fast and thick every time they spent more than a couple of seconds in each other's presence.
He went from looking sure of himself to looking like a lost puppy. He brushed his fingers through his hair whilst rapping his other hand on his armoured thigh, then promptly distracted himself with a panel several meters to his side.
She didn't know what to say, so she simply stood there, twiddling her thumbs.
Yes, she was actually twiddling her thumbs.
She was about to return the entity to Remus 12 before it became corrupted, and here she was playing with her fingers.
She felt remarkably like a child, and not at all like a cadet of the Galactic Coalition Academy.
“We'll be entering orbit soon,” he announced, his voice dipping low.
She stiffened.
Every single muscle in her body tensed.
And then she heard it—the presence in her mind, the entity—it practically sang to her.
It chanted an indefinable tune, yet it was the most pleasant sound she had ever heard.
It occupied her attention, and after a long pause, she glanced over to see Carson staring at her curiously.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
It took a lot of effort to nod, but she managed it. “I'm just . . . ,” she trailed off. There was nothing more to say.
She was almost home.
No, the entity was almost home, but sometimes it was hard to distinguish where she stopped and the creature began.
“We're going to enter the planet's atmosphere in approximately five minutes,” he announced.
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