Fractured Mind Episode One (A Galactic Coalition Academy Series) (6 page)

With her chin still propped in her hand,
she nodded. “Some of our representatives have already met with the
Corthanx Traders in the Ihio System. Let us say, our first
impressions were promising enough that tomorrow we will receive an
envoy from the traders.”

Karax was stunned. He made no attempt to
control his expression. He also took another jerked step forward
until he stood directly on the opposite side of the admiral's desk.
“Isn't there some talk that the Corthanx Traders are involved with
the Barbarians?”

At first she didn't react, then, once more,
she nodded slowly, head still in her hand. “In the past, yes.
However, we have no information that currently links the two.”

If Karax's hackles had risen before, it was
nothing compared to the sick wave of anger and regret that now
charged up his back and plunged into his heart. He had to use every
ounce of reason not to slam a hand down on her desk.

He hadn't joined the Coalition to help the
Barbarians in any way. He was here for revenge. Revenge, and to
make sure what had happened to him could not happen to anyone
else.

He knew that the admiral watched him
carefully. Though her gaze did not demonstrably lock on him, as her
eyes shifted from left to right, he could tell how attentive her
focus became.

“... Lieutenant, I know that this may appear
to compromise your values. But do not fear – it does not. I repeat
once more – we have no information that currently links the traders
to the Barbarians.”

“Only the fact that those bastard's will
trade with anyone who can pay their exorbitant prices,” Karax said,
incapable of holding his anger in.

Admiral Forest stared at him. Her expression
didn't change, but the quality of her gaze did. She also slowly let
her hand drop to her desk as she straightened up and pushed her
shoulders into the back of her seat. “Lieutenant, I appreciate your
past. I understand that this may be a hard pill to swallow. But
understand this,” she sat further back, the bare illumination from
the lamp barely touching her features. It only picked up her lips
as they slowly moved around her words, “If we do not find a way to
defeat the Ornax, they will drive a rift right through Coalition
space. We cannot afford to lose any more resources,” her voice
became so low, so dark, it sounded like little more than an ominous
rumble.

Nerves traced over his back. He took a
stuttering breath. He knew he couldn't win this.

Not considering how much was at stake.

So he stowed the anger that rose in his gut,
the bile that climbed his throat. He squashed them down,
straightened, half closed his eyes, and shook his head. “Fine. But
how can we be so sure that these true intelligence holograms are
what we're after?”

The admiral did not reply with words.
Instead, she leaned forward and pressed a finger against the table
before her. To the untrained eye, it would look like nothing more
than polished wood. Yet as her finger pressed against it, a
holographic panel appeared from nowhere.

She manipulated the controls with targeted,
practiced movements of her hands and fingers.

A second later, a hologram appeared over the
desk, a few inches in front of Karax.

It depicted some kind of warrior. Female, if
he had to guess. She was wearing white armor that covered most of
her body, but didn't reach around to the back of her head. She had
chestnut brown hair clasped into a ponytail, with a few strands
beaded and knotted and covered with scraps of fabric that played
over her shoulders and were woven through the bulk of her
ponytail.

The white armor was largely unadorned apart
from two red streaks down the left cheek of her helmet.

If he had to guess, they were blood.

He frowned.

Something – some kind of feeling – escaped
in his gut, chasing from left to right until it plunged down into
his legs.

Without entirely being aware of what he was
doing, he pressed forward, locked both his hands on the edge of the
admiral's desk, and leaned as close to the hologram as he
could.

It was no more than a foot tall, but it was
detailed enough that he felt as if he was looking at a miniaturized
person.

“This is the program the Corthanx Traders
are promising us. They say it's the best they have in their
inventory,” the admiral explained as she leaned back and crossed
her arms.

It took him too long to tear his gaze off
the hologram and lock it on the admiral. His throat was dry, a
strange aching pressure pushing down into his collar bone and
spreading through his shoulders.

He reasoned it away by assuming it was a
leftover symptom from his medical procedure that morning.

“Admittedly, this looks like an incredibly
sophisticated hologram, admiral, but I still don't get how this can
work. Though the Coalition possesses sophisticated holographic
technology, what you're describing here sounds like more than a
program.”

The admiral nodded, the move stiff, the
muscles in the base of her neck looking like knotted roots from a
gnarled tree. “You are correct, lieutenant. This is more than just
a program. And the Academy does not currently possess holographic
technology to render this,” she leaned forward and gestured to the
hologram, “In the manner in which we will require. However, part of
the deal involves the traders upgrading the Academy's holographic
systems.”

Karax frowned. No, it was more than a frown.
If his lips had been knives, they would have sliced right through
his chin and fallen to the floor.

A flicker of dread began to ignite in his
gut. Though he couldn't push any further forward, he clutched his
suddenly sweaty fingers around the edge of her desk. He ignored
that perfect hologram and locked his attention on the admiral.
“Maybe I'm speaking out of line here, admiral, but that sounds
dangerous to me.”

Silence. For a few achingly long seconds the
admiral didn't say a word.

Though she allowed informality sometimes,
she was not a woman you could overrule.

Just before the thought that he'd
overstepped the line arose, Forest cleared her throat, pushed up
from her seat, and stood.

The bare illumination of her lamp combined
with the light coming off the hologram lit up the side of her arm
as she paced around her desk.

She came to a stop beside him.

She reached forward, swiped a hand under the
hologram, and pulled it from the desk.

As she did so, she brought the hologram in
front of her, and the emitters sustaining it switched from the side
of the room to the ceiling. In those few seconds, the hologram
flickered.

It reminded him it was nothing but
light.

... And yet, he couldn't shake away the odd
feeling it gave him. The strange sensation that kept shifting
around in his gut like a growing storm.

He forced himself to swallow, despite his
dry throat.

The admiral appeared to be assessing the
hologram. But eventually she looked back at Karax. “You haven't
even seen what this hologram can do.”

Karax's stomach kicked. He wasn't usually a
nervous man. He'd been through so much hardship that fright was
only something that visited him in the height of battle. Not on the
quiet grounds of the Academy safely tucked on one of the most
secure planets in the galaxy.

And yet he couldn't deny the race of nerves
that charged up his back.

Without another word, the admiral handed him
the hologram.

Reluctantly, he accepted it, hiding the
shake that threatened to push through his shoulders.

The admiral leaned over, typed something on
her desk, and the hologram began to move.

Began to fight.

Barbarian warriors came out of nowhere,
three on each side.

The woman in white charged through them.
Using whatever weapon she had at hand, whatever advantage she could
scrounge – she defeated them. One after another.

She wasn't wearing sophisticated armor.
Didn't have incredible weapons.

What kept her alive wasn't a tangible
advantage – it was an intangible one.

The will to survive.

The desperation to find any advantage and to
push past any obstacle.

As he stared at the fight unfolding in his
very hands, it drew him in. Every punch, every blow, every
desperate scream that tore from her lips – he recognized all of
them.

They spoke to the knot of fear, regret, and
loathsome disappointment that had taken root in his heart since the
day he'd lost his brother.

...

Cadet Sarah Sinclair

It was time for combat training.

She'd finally been discharged from the
medical bay.

She said finally, but in reality, they
should have kept her longer.

She'd collapsed. For the love of god, she'd
collapsed out in the laneway.

They should be investigating her condition.
Trying to find out what was really wrong with her.

Instead Doctor Wallace had blamed her
blackout on the fact she hadn't taken her medication.

Sarah Sinclair didn't usually get angry.

Anger was this... place she couldn't go. It
was like she deliberately locked it from her mind.

Right now, however, she couldn't deny how
incensed she was becoming. She kept clutching her left hand into a
fist, tighter and tighter, her fingers driving through the soft
flesh of her palms until she left half-moon cuts.

As she strode across the Academy grounds,
she caught sight of her other class mates heading towards the
combat training center.

She saw Nora.

And Nora saw her.

Just as Sarah brought up a hand and waved at
her friend, Nora turned. Deliberately. And walked off with another
group of cadets.

Sarah froze.

She kept her hand in the air for an
uncomfortably long period of time until she let it drop.

She knew her expression dropped with it.
Knew fragility and loss washed down her pale cheeks like ice melt
through a river.

... She couldn't blame Nora. Nora had stood
by Sarah's side for too long. But....

Sarah hesitated. She shifted her head to the
left, traced her gaze through the complex of Academy buildings
until she spied her own accommodation block.

It would be so easy – too easy – to blow off
class and head back to her room.

What was the point of trying anymore?

Before she could take a step in the wrong
direction – or the right direction, considering how pointless it
was to push herself more today – something happened.

Somebody cleared their throat from behind
her, placed a hand on her shoulder, and pushed her forward.

It wasn't a hard move. Wasn't a shove. Just
a light touch of guidance.

She jerked her head around to see Lieutenant
Karax.

He dropped his hand immediately and let it
hang loosely by his side. Without looking at her, he added, “Class
is this way, cadet.”

She had to swallow her surprise. For one,
the lieutenant had just spoken to her – not shouted, not spat. And
for another, he wasn't taking the opportunity to berate her. “...
Sorry, sir, I mean, yes, I know class is in this direction. I mean,
I'm not talking back to you, I just... I was already heading to
class,” she lied.

She'd stumbled over her words so badly she
was sure Lieutenant Karax was going to reprimand her for being an
idiot.

He didn't. He twisted his head around, faced
forward, and locked his gaze on the cadets before them.

... Sarah had absolutely no idea what was
going on.

It took her just another second to realize
it could have something to do with what had happened this morning.
Lieutenant Karax, apparently, had found her in that laneway.

Though her memories of waking up were hazy,
as she concentrated on them, she realized he'd been crouching
before her. And....

She gasped and slammed a hand over her
mouth.

The lieutenant twitched to the side, brow
compressing over his eyes. “What's the matter?”

She knew her cheeks reddened. “I am... sir,
I'm sorry for attacking you in the laneway. I didn't—”

He returned his gaze forward and appeared to
ignore her.

“I wasn't myself—” she continued.

“It doesn't matter, cadet.”

Though his tone was hardly light and
friendly, it was definitely missing the distinct hatred that had
once rippled through it.

She frowned. Deeply. And there wasn't a
thing she could do to stop herself.

Once or twice she caught Lieutenant Karax's
gaze slicing towards her. It locked on her frown. “What is it
now?”

Though his words could have been curt, even
disparaging, the hard tone wasn't there.

He sounded distracted.

“... Why are you walking with me, sir?”

It was definitely not the kind of question
she should have asked the lieutenant, and yet, considering
everything she'd been through today, she couldn't stop herself from
asking it.

He arched one eyebrow, and just as she
thought she saw anger flaring in his gaze, he shook his head and
sighed.

There was something about the heavy edge to
that sigh that drew her in.

“I'm walking with you, cadet, to ensure you
actually make it to class.”

“Oh. Look, lieutenant, you may have seen me
hesitating before, but I had no intention of heading back to my
apartment,” she stuttered, sharing way too much, but again
incapable of controlling herself.

She felt trapped by her emotions. If she
didn't sway into anger, she swayed into fear and self-loathing
instead.

“That's not what I meant, cadet,” he said
quietly.

“... What?”

They were halfway towards the training
facility, and nearly every other cadet had rushed ahead, knowing
Lieutenant Karax hated it when people were late.