Ouroboros 3: Repeat (12 page)

Cadet Nida Harper

He snuffled occasionally, and every time he did, she grinned to herself. It was that or laughing, and she simply couldn’t wake him up.

He needed his rest. He’d been working non-stop for days.

So she sat there silently, doing what she could. Not that there was much to do—most of the systems were automated. Plus, though this wasn’t her first time in space, she was rapidly understanding that there was a lot she had left to learn. From how to scan for communications without being detected, to simply looking after the ship’s systems.

Still, she wasn’t alone. Carson was right behind her.

Sitting back in her chair, mindful to make the move slow so she made no noise, she turned her gaze up to the ceiling.

With nothing to do to keep her distracted, she found her thoughts drifting to one topic.

It wasn’t the entity, and neither was it the grisly, desperate task that had been thrust upon her and Carson.

Nope.

It was Carson himself.

Carson Blake.

She’d already remarked that he was different—so very different to the man she’d thought him to be.

The guy who lead the Force, the lieutenant who was the central attraction of the E Club.

The real Carson wasn’t anything like the stories. Because in the stories, Carson didn’t fail, he didn’t cry, and he didn’t hold your hand for comfort.

Okay, that sounded terrible; it made it appear Carson was little more than a lost and lonely boy dressing up in his daddy’s armour.

It wasn’t like that. It was just
 . . . he was realer this way. He had actual, genuine human emotions. He felt sorrow at loss and elation at gain.

She sighed very quietly, her chest filling with a pleasant heat.

As it did, she swore she began to glow more.

She glanced down at her hands, bringing them up as she considered them, turning them this way and that.

They were still hers, yet they glowed like blue fire in that moment.

She was transfixed by that light. By what it meant.

In fact, it was the only thing that could pull her thoughts from Carson.

The entity. Had she really managed to protect it?

Yes, she had.

And, as she pressed her eyes closed and sought it out again, she realised she still had the power to protect it.

Briefly she considered how much their journey had changed over the past few weeks.

When she'd been thrust back into the past with Carson, they’d done so on the premise of looking for a dimensional bridge to get the entity home before it could corrupt. Now Nida was stuck in the future, trying to figure out what had befallen her beloved United Galactic Coalition so she could go back in time and change the past.

. . . .

It was a lot to take in.

Though she still understood the importance of sending the entity home, that task was no longer as dire; as long as she could protect it from corruption, she could stop it from making the stars fall from the sky.

Yet if she didn’t find a way to change the past and to stop the Vex, her future would fall instead.

For a second she considered her thoughts.

She let them sink in.

Now they were off Remus 12 and away from the graveyard of United Galactic Coalition ships and crew members, she had the time to truly consider her options.

So she couldn’t deny when a surge of guilt powered up her belly.

. . . .

Was she doing the right thing?

She’d made a pact to get the entity back home—she’d sworn to it that she would do everything within her power to make that happen.

Yet now she planned to keep it around long enough so she could fix her future.

. . . .

It seemed wrong.

Selfish.

Was she risking reality by doing this?

Granted, she still had absolutely no idea where the dimensional bridge was. She hadn’t come across it yet, and neither did she have a single hint as to its whereabouts.

Yet by concentrating her energy on saving the United Galactic Coalition, wasn’t she putting the all-important task of saving the entity on the back burner?

Wasn’t she risking everything?

She rocked back in her chair, wrapping her arms around herself as she did.

This really was an impossible situation.

She didn’t know what to do, and neither did she know what to think.

Yet, just as she spiralled down, she heard Carson stir.

‘
How long was I out?’ he mumbled from behind her.

She took a moment to compose herself, then she turned.
‘A couple of hours. You should get some more rest,’ she added immediately.

He watched her quietly, his gaze a penetrating one.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked perceptively.

She blinked at his question.

Was she that see-through? Were her emotions that obvious? Or was Carson simply getting to know her?

‘
Nothing,’ she tried.

‘
You look . . . sad. It . . . it’ll be alright.’

She opened her mouth to tell him she was fine, but her lips would not form the right words. Instead she stammered,
‘what if I’m doing the wrong thing?’

She hadn’t meant to share her misgivings, but they simply gushed out.

He blinked, obviously surprised. ‘What are you talking about?’ Concern flashed through his gaze, and he rose to his feet.

‘
Carson . . . I used the entity, and though I know I can protect it . . . shouldn’t I be trying to get it home? That’s what we said we would do. We promised it we would get it back to its own dimension before it could corrupt this reality. I just . . . .’

‘
Hey,’ he walked over to her and stood close behind her chair. ‘You are doing the right thing,’ he said slowly and clearly.

‘
Carson, shouldn’t we be looking for the dimensional bridge?’

‘
How, Nida? How? The United Galactic Coalition has been destroyed, quite possibly because of our own actions. We need to fix that,’ his voice shook with certainty.

She wanted to believe him, and she did, yet a seed of doubt remained.

‘What if we’re risking the entity?’ she began.

‘
Hey,
no
,’ he said, dropping to his knee and staring up at her. His brow was crumpled, the worry etched deep. But he still appeared sure of his words. ‘Think of what you’re saying, Nida. How can we find the dimensional bridge? Remus 12 is ruined.’

‘
We can go back and scan it,’ she tried, ‘scan the surface for any hint of a spatial disturbance.’

He withdrew into silence.

It was bitter.

Then he closed his eyes. He brought his hand up and locked his forefinger and thumb over the bridge of his nose. It was a firm move, and she could see the skin underneath grow red from the pressure of it.

‘I . . . I don’t know what to do,’ she admitted.

‘
Then ask the entity,’ he looked up at her now, his hand dropping to his side. Though he looked tortured by what he was suggesting, he did it anyway. ‘Ask it what it wants us to do . . . and we’ll do it.’ He added.

She stared at him, waiting for him to change his mind.

‘You’re right . . . we can’t risk everything to save ourselves. But . . . ,’ he trailed off.

‘
Carson . . . I . . . .’

‘
Ask the entity,’ he said again. ‘But only if you’re sure you won’t corrupt it,’ he swallowed, ‘I really don’t want you to trash this bridge—not after I fixed it.’

Maybe it was a joke, but it fell flat. Or maybe it was a single moment of levity in an otherwise pitch black nightmare.

Feeling immeasurably conflicted, she closed her eyes.

Back on Remus 12 when they had first come across the destruction of the United Galactic Coalition Fleet, she hadn’t had the time to think about finding the dimensional bridge and prioritising that over everything else.

She’d just worked on autopilot.

Now she had time to think, she knew what she had to do.

Carson was right.

It was time to ask the entity.

She took an enormous, chest-expanding breath, closing her eyes as she did.

‘
You can do it,’ he said quietly by her side.

He didn’t move.

In fact, he locked a hand over the back of her chair, and, with only the slightest of movements, she tipped her head back until it rested on his fingers.

Then she pushed herself into the task.

She called out to the entity.

Not to use its power; to converse.

To ask the questions that burned within.

Every other conversation she’d had with the creature had been on unequal footing. It had either told her what to do, or it had talked through her, telling Carson what to do.

Now she approached it as an equal, and if not an equal, then with her own determination and will in tact.

It was a strange sensation to seek it out, to plunge into the deepest part of that energy inhabiting her left hand.

She lost all sense of herself as she sat there on that chair. yet she did not lose the sense of Carson standing resolutely behind her.

In fact, she held onto it, resting her head further back against his hand.

He did not move away.

So she tried harder.

She pushed herself further down, until finally she felt it rise up to meet her.

It was so different this time.

She did not feel it as though it were a presence inhabiting her mind.

It didn’t fill her up; it didn’t own her.

All at once the blackness in her mind fell away.

In its place she saw blue.

Crackling, vibrant, electric-blue.

It dazzled her mind, the colour so saturated it seemed impossible.

‘ . . . Are you there?’ she tried after a time.

No reply.

The light and colour around her surged, twisting and shifting around as if stuck in a vortex.

The further Nida pushed herself into the task of contacting the entity, the more she lost hold of her body.

She couldn’t even feel her head resting against Carson’s hand any more.

That thought terrified her, but she didn’t give into it.

‘Hello?’ she tried.

Was that what she was meant to do? Was that how she was meant to contact the entity?

She tried again, and again, until finally she felt something.

Rushing up towards her.

Rushing faster and faster.

She screamed, then it engulfed her.

Carson Blake

He stood there behind her, his hand locked on her chair. He was gladdened when she shifted back and rested her head on this hand.

He wanted to hold her shoulders, but he knew he shouldn’t distract her. So he just waited.

And waited.

Until finally she jolted.

It was a violent move, and he quickly called her name.

‘
Hey, Nida, Nida, are you alright?’ He moved around in front of her, his gaze narrowed in panic.

Her eyes had rolled into the back of her head.

He leaned down, grabbed her shoulder, and looked into her eyes. ‘Nida? Nida?’ he brushed his hands over her cheek, but the skin was ice cold. ‘God,’ he yelped as he yanked his hand back.

Then he stared at her.

And waited.

Was she having another vision?

Was that how the entity was going to contact her?

No.

In that moment, her lips parted and her eyes closed. Then the entity spoke. ‘Take me home. Back. Back. Take me home now. No stop. I must return. Back to Remus 12. Now.
Now
.’

Carson jolted back.

He . . . hadn’t wanted to hear that.

He’d needed the entity to say protecting the United Galactic Coalition was the right thing to do. He needed it to tell him that they had its leave to do what they had to correct the mistakes they’d made. To fix history.

‘I command you to take me back,’ the entity spat, its voice shaking up through Nida’s throat.

He considered it, and he considered her.

She couldn’t move; she was being controlled. From her rolled-back eyes to her stiff lips, it wasn’t her any more.

He’d trusted the entity. He’d let it send them into the past. He'd fought for it, and he’d lost.

He couldn’t sacrifice the United Galactic Coalition for it though . . . .

Yet could he sacrifice reality for the United Galactic Coalition? The entity had warned them both on multiple occasions that if it corrupted completely, it could destroy space time.

He didn't know if that was true, but did he have the right to risk it? It could send them through time, it could create a swirling vortex, it could give someone the ability to speak Vexian with nothing more than a touch. It was indisputably powerful, yet was it telling the truth?

‘
Take me back,’ the entity roared, that ancient note to its voice now twisting with rage.

He’d never heard it desperate like this, and neither had he experienced its anger.

. . . .

Or maybe he had. Unbidden, memories of what it had done to those Barbarians rose in his mind.

It had squashed them against the walls and ceiling of the Farsight, squeezing the breath and blood from their lips and nostrils.

It had killed them.

At the time, he’d tried to justify it to Nida by assuring her the entity had only acted in self-defence.

.
 . . .

Now he wasn’t so sure. Nida had taken hold of the entity’s power before, and not once had she brutally killed anyone with it.

For the very first time, he started to doubt.

‘
Take me back,’ the entity said again, ‘or your reality will be destroyed.’

Carson did not immediately leap over to the navigational panel and direct their ship back to Remus 12.

‘Take me back to Remus 12,’ the entity spat again.

‘
 . . . Why?’ Carson finally asked.

It was the wrong thing to say. He knew the risks, right? He’d heard—even seen—what would happen if the entity corrupted. It had shown him a vision of the stars falling form the sky, and god knows he’d been around Nida enough times when that vortex of death had started sucking objects towards her.

But right now he doubted.

He doubted everything.

He had made the firm decision on Remus 12 to stop making assumptions.

He’d also made the firm decision to only trust two people from now on. And the entity was neither himself nor Nida.

So he withdrew. He stared down at it with a cold, calculating gaze. ‘Why do you need to go back to Remus 12?’ he questioned.

It didn’t answer, instead Nida suddenly gulped violently.

His eyes shot open as wide as they would go.

It wouldn’t kill her, would it? God, it wouldn’t do anything to her if he questioned it, right?

As those thoughts surged within, she gulped again, and once more the entity forced its voice out of her throat, ‘you know why we must return. We must find the cross dimensional bridge. We must go back to where we belong. The longer we stay here, the longer we corrupt. We will take your reality with us,’ it warned.

He’d seen its visions, but maybe that’s all they were—illusions rendered to appear real.

If his experience enduring the Vex simulation had taught him anything, it was not to trust visions.

What evidence did he really have the entity was what it said it was? Granted, it seemed capable of taking them through time, but could he conclude from that it could destroy all of reality and suck the stars from the sky?

Now was pretty late in the game to be questioning a fact that had pushed him this far, but he had to question.

Within the simulation, he’d stopped questioning.

And it had forced him to blindly follow the Vex’s manipulation.

Well, he wasn’t going to be manipulated again.

‘I’ll take you home,’ Carson finally said.

But it was a lie.

No. The only thing he was going to do from this point on was to find out what the hell that thing was.

The Vex were after it, that’s for sure. Nida had said they planned to turn it into some kind of weapon.

. . . .

Unless it had always been a weapon.

There was too much he didn’t know.

‘
You will take us back,’ the entity said in a grave tone.

‘
Yes, I’ll take you back,’ he said. ‘Right now.’

Slowly, the entity appeared to mollify, and the bright, bright glow that had picked up over Nida’s skin paled.

He watched her eyes roll back down as she slumped backwards.

He pressed his lips together, pushing them as hard against his teeth as he could.

Standing there stiffly, he waited for her to wake.

Then it happened in a snap. She thrust forward, clutching wildly at her throat as if someone had tried to strangle her.

Her eyes clogged with tears, and she choked as she shifted frantically in her chair.

‘
It’s alright, it’s alright,’ he tried to tell her as he thrust forward and grabbed her shoulders, holding her still.

She looked around with wide eyes, still clutching at her throat, yet eventually she appeared to calm. Then she grabbed at one of his hands.

‘Carson?’ she hissed.

‘
Yeah. It’s me. Nida, what happened? Are you okay? Do you . . . know what the entity said?’

She shook her head wildly.
‘I felt like I was drowning, Carson,’ she whimpered. ‘Drowning,’ she added.

He grabbed her head, holding it to his chest as she still cried and shook.

It was a miracle he didn’t shake along with her.

What the hell had he just learnt?

And, more importantly, what was he to do?

It took a long time for Nida to calm down. She was frantic, constantly checking her throat to confirm she could still breathe.

He kept telling her she was fine until eventually she asked one little question, ‘what did it say?’

He considered her in a drawn out, pointed silence.

He had no idea what to do.

‘
Carson, what did it say?’ she pushed her hand up and wiped away her tears.

‘
Nida, how is it? The entity? How much energy does it have right now?’

‘
 . . . What?’

‘
Nida, I . . . is it still powerful? Or does it need to rest?’

‘
It . . . it seems weak,’ she announced.

‘
Okay,’ he closed his eyes briefly, ‘I need you to do something for me.’

‘
What?’ she still sobbed occasionally, but she still paid attention to him. Maybe it was the strange pressure curling through his tone, or the look in his eyes, but she didn’t look away. ‘Carson?’ she whispered.

‘
You can access the entity’s power, right?’

She nodded.
‘What are you talking about though?’

‘
Use it. Right now. Use as much as you can.’

‘
 . . . What?’

‘
Nida, just trust me. You said you can force past its defences, you said you can use it. Do that,
now
.’

She shook her head, clearly confused. As she did, he saw her left hand start to twitch back and forth.

He watched it with the same suspicion kindling in his heart he’d first held for the creature within her.

All those weeks ago back at the Academy, when he’d first heard her whisper for help whilst she’d slept, he’d thought there was something wrong with her.

And after her accident with that TI pole at the E Club event, Admiral Forest had treated the entity’s presence in Nida as an infection.

Over time, he’d grown to trust it though.

Now, once again, he was back to realising he had to save her, and that the thing in her hand—the so-called Goddess of the Vex—was an infection, a parasite, something that had to be removed.

He didn’t dare articulate a word of this though.

‘Nida, listen to me. Trust me. Please, just run it dry. Force all the energy you can out of it.’

‘
Carson, that will corrupt it. We . . . we need to protect it,’ she began, shifting back as her eyes closed in a slow, tired move.

‘
Nida,’ he snapped forward, realising he had barely seconds. ‘Fight it, do you hear me? Fight it. The entity is going to try to take control of you.’

She shook her head, but it was a small move.
‘Carson,’ she said.

Her left hand started to crackle with energy.

In fact, it vibrated with it.

He had to do something, but what?

Blast her out into space and hope that the resultant energy the entity would have to use to keep it and her alive would tax its reserves?

Maybe he should have pretended to go back to Remus 12, waited for an opportunity, and tried to trick it into using its energy.

It didn’t matter though.

He’d acted.

Now he had to deal with the consequences.

‘
Nida,’ he cried as loud as he could, trying to cut through her reverie, ‘just . . . fight it. Fight it. It’s going to try to take control of you,’ he warned again, his blood a raging torrent as it pumped through his body, his breath little more than a staccato rhythm of pants.

She slumped back.

Shit.

One single second passed.

She opened her eyes, sat forward, and pointed at the ceiling.

He lifted off the floor.

Right into the air.

He had a bare moment to see her face. To watch her features displaying an easy calm as the energy crackled over her body, leaping almost in pleasure as she continued to point to the ceiling and he continued to lift towards it.

. . . .

He’d lost.

He’d tried to fight the entity, but he hadn’t factored how strong it was.

He didn’t have the time to think of how much of an idiot he was though. There was just a single second where he could stare down into her eyes and try to calculate how much he was just about to lose.

It would be more than his life.

It would be the United Galactic Coalition, and it would be Nida too.

Everything.

He felt himself slam towards the ceiling, then, just before he struck it and snapped his spine, he stopped.

One centimetre form the smooth hull, he came to a sudden and complete halt.

He could only just manage to twist his head around to stare her way.

She still stood there perfectly still with one finger raised at the ceiling. Her expression was impassive, as if she were contemplating nothing greater than the opposite wall.

She looked like a statue, a statue that had been invaded by a pervasive blue light that ate through every last centimetre of it.

‘Nida,’ he managed to push her name from his throat, ‘fight it,’ he tried.

Whether she was fighting it or not, he couldn’t tell; for all he knew, the entity could merely be playing with him. Savouring its last move.