Varo shook.
It was the first time the man had looked truly undone. There was not a glimmer of arrogance twinkling in his eyes, and neither was there a scrap of his belligerent determination to strengthen his stance.
He looked hollow and worn out, as if someone had scrubbed the substance from him, trying to erase his form from existence.
As for Cara, she looked immeasurably saddened, yet she still appeared strong.
She faced the inevitable destruction of her world, and yet she still had the resilience to hold her chin high and stare down the future.
. . . .
She was incredible.
He wished he had that kind of strength.
Yet he didn't.
The news that the United Galactic Coalition would be destroyed . . . was unimaginable. He simply couldn't process it. He couldn't think through it. But his body could. His muscles shook, and sweat picked across his back and hands. If it weren't for his armor, he'd have fallen over long ago.
‘Is that all?’ Cara asked.
Nida nodded her head. ‘Some weapon destroys your world,’ she added.
He winced. She'd said 'your world' as if she didn't belong here. Which she didn't. But she couldn't let on about that.
She was clearly tired and overcome—of course she was; she'd only woken up several minutes ago.
Clearing his throat, he realized he had to take hold of this conversation before she slipped up again.
‘She's tired,’ he said immediately, ‘she needs to rest. Everything else can wait.’
Cara looked at her slowly. ‘Nothing can wait. Our planet will be destroyed,’ she said simply.
Carson nodded.
He felt sick.
Totally sick.
He wanted to withdraw.
He wanted to go back to the Farsight.
He wanted to go back to the Academy.
He had to get away and take Nida with him.
But simply wishing for that would not make it happen.
He had to push on.
He had to find out what to do.
Swallowing hard, he nodded his head. ‘I need to head to the Central Security Facility. I need to find out what they know. Now more than ever.’
Cara looked at him, her expression watchful. Though her cheeks were still pale with shock, she hadn't once lost her composure.
Again he was struck by how strong she was in the face of peril and insurmountable odds.
He desperately needed some of that remarkable resolve now.
And she gave it to him by nodding low. ‘I will do whatever we have to. I've pledged my support, and I will not withdraw it.’
He closed his eyes and breathed heavily. ‘Alright. Then we need to do this. We have to.’
‘I do not suggest we move until night,’ Cara cautioned.
Though Carson didn't want to hear that, he could appreciate it was sage advice.
If they moved during the day, it would be harder to keep their operation secret. Though in the future light or dark did not matter—as numerous technologies existed to even out the odds—this was the past. In the past the cloak of night could still be warn securely over one’s shoulders as they attempted to do the unseen.
‘Right,’ he said firmly, glad he had a plan to clutch hold of.
‘There's much to prepare,’ Cara began.
He nodded. He was in complete agreement. Or perhaps not complete agreement. While assaulting the Central Security Facility did sound like an enormous task, he hadn't exactly levelled with Cara. She didn't know about his gun, and she had no real idea what his armor was capable of. Neither did she know anything about his scanner.
Carson's plan was still to get as close to the facility as he could, and use the scanner to do what it could. If the government kept data on the 'Goddess' or the entity, as Carson was sure people meant, in an electronic format, then the scanner would be able to hack into it from a distance and glean what it could.
If he was dealing with paper, however, then he would have to sneak into the actual building to find it. But that wouldn’t be so hard with armor from the future, a device that gave him telekinetic power, and an actual ray gun.
He could do this.
He would do this.
It was time to find the dimensional bridge.
It was time to send the entity home and to free Nida.
. . . .
Because he really didn't know how much more of this she could take.
He kept being amazed at how strong Cara was, but that was nothing compared to Nida.
He had no real idea what she'd just endured—though she'd told him she'd seen the United Galactic Coalition destroyed, he could appreciate there was a galaxy of difference between that simple summary and what she'd actually witnessed.
The United Galactic Coalition . . . destroyed.
He couldn't think of it. Couldn't even begin to comprehend what it could mean.
So he shook his head and soldiered on.
‘We'll make the preparations,’ Carson concluded with a nod.
Varo was standing silently off to one side, considering Nida quietly.
While he wasn't saying anything, Carson hated the quality of the guy's watchful gaze.
‘She's coming with us,’ Carson warned, fancying he could read the man's mind.
As he said that, he stopped a twitch from travelling across his cheeks.
. . . .
She was coming with them.
. . . .
He couldn't leave her here. He just couldn't, but could he actually take her along on the mission?
Even if she wasn't currently suffering from the effects of the entity, she wasn't exactly the best recruit in the history of the United Galactic Coalition. She tried hard, granted, and she had her own special kind of strength. But this mission would be of the utmost importance.
It would also succeed or fail due to the abilities of the team.
He wasn't quite sure Nida could keep up.
Plus, if Varo were to be believed, then the government of this province would go to extraordinary lengths to secure Nida if they learned of her existence.
Maybe Varo could sense Carson's hesitancy, because the man suddenly looked triumphant. ‘That slow, grunt brain of yours has finally realized you can't risk it, right? You can't possibly take her along. You can't put her in danger, and you can't condemn the rest of us either.’
Carson wanted to shout at Varo that he was wrong, but the words died on his lips.
Reality was catching up to Carson fast, and it felt an awful lot like a clap around the ears.
What was he thinking?
Taking Nida would be suicide. If she had another episode, she would ruin the mission.
. . . .
Yet if she had another episode without him by her side, what would happen then? What if the entity corrupted again, and sent every clunky, rusted metal machine flying towards her? If he wasn't there, she'd die.
He shivered.
He couldn't win.
‘We can look after her. We can take her to a secure room. One devoid of objects. My men and I are very good shots. We can protect her. Even if we have to blast hurtling projectiles from the air, we can do it,’ Varo promised.
Carson didn't react.
What the hell was he going to do?
He couldn't trust this guy.
Yet he had to get to the facility, right? He had to find out whether the dimensional bridge was in this time, and if it wasn't, he had to find the next time gate.
Everything hinged on time. And no matter where he sought, he just couldn't find enough of the stuff.
‘Trust us like we have trusted you,’ Cara interrupted from his side.
She weighed a hand onto his arm.
Her touch was purposeful yet reassuring, and it did a great job of stealing away his attention.
He looked right at her, incapable of turning away. ‘I can't . . . .’
‘Varo may be an idiot, but he is true to the c
ause. He also knows the importance of a touched. If you can trust me, you can trust him.’
Carson simply stood there with his mouth open.
In his armor, his knees shook.
His heart also beat hard, sending a drum-like thump, thump up the tense muscles of his neck and into his jaw.
He closed his eyes briefly.
‘I can look after myself, Carson,’ Nida suddenly said from beside him.
It was the first time she'd spoken in a while, and it was certainly the first time her voice hadn't shaken.
Though her expression was still ashen white, she no longer looked entirely overcome. Shaken and deeply, deeply saddened, yes, but not on the brink of breaking down. ‘If anything happens,’ she looked over towards Varo, ‘I can look after myself,’ she promised.
He wanted to believe her.
He couldn't.
If it were Cadet J'Etem saying that, then maybe he could expunge the fear crawling through his gut.
But this was Cadet Nida Harper, and although he'd now confirmed she wasn't the worst recruit in 1000 years, she certainly wasn't the best.
She was too awkward and kind and funny and unlucky to hold herself in combat. Which wasn't a problem at all. While she wasn't really suited for the Academy, she'd blossom in other areas.
‘Carson,’ she said softly, trying to hold his gaze, ‘it will look after me,’ she whispered.
It.
Yes, it would.
The entity. It had already proven itself capable of self-defense.
It also appeared to know what it wanted—it had told him on numerous occasions what to do. From trusting Cara to following Harya, it had its own plan.
. . . .
He sighed heavily.
‘Go on the mission. Get the information,’ Nida encouraged. ‘I’ll be fine.’
He wanted to tell her that if she was wrong—and she wound up missing, injured, or heaven forbid dead—then he would court martial her. But the joke was not a funny one. Plus the very thought of it made his stomach flip with true, chilling fear.
He went to nod.
It took a lot of effort to go through with the movement, because it took a lot of convincing to finally agree with her.
. . . .
He would leave her behind.
Good god, he couldn't be thinking this, right?
What if she had another episode? What if something happened to the entity?
Nida shifted closer, distracting him with a warm and reassuring smile. ‘I know what you're thinking, Carson, and stop. I will look after myself. We need that information,’ she added, her voice becoming distant for a single, spine-tingling second.
Once again the entity spoke through her.
He could sense its power. It felt as though the creature reached inside him, accessing his very soul with every word it spoke, as if the ancient hum of its voice was the key that could open him up.
He nodded.
‘Nida,’ he whispered, ‘I . . . okay. But . . . .’
‘I’ll be fine,’ she reassured him. ‘Just be quick,’ she added in a small voice.
He nodded, reaching out to her and clapping a hand on her shoulder. It was an automatic move; one he didn't even think about.
But just as his palm opened as he went to brush her fringe from her eyes, he stopped himself.
What the heck was he doing?
Stiffening, he took a step back, realizing she could now stand on her own. ‘Alright,’ he said with firm resolve, ‘we have to do this.’ Then he turned sharply to stare at Varo. And he really did stare. In that moment Carson made his gaze as sharp as a knife as he carved Varo up from head to toe, searching for any sign the man would go back on his word. ‘You will keep her safe,’ Carson warned.
‘She has ordained the destruction of our world; I know what that means. Of course we will do what we can to protect her. Her visions are sacred. They are the ammo we need to fight this war, yet they are the warning we require not to lose. We will not let the government destroy our home,’ Varo said determinedly, his black eyes flashing with passion.
Carson just looked at the guy.
It took a lot of effort to turn away.
Because it took a lot of effort to give in to this situation.
He wanted everything, but he couldn't have it.
He couldn't go to the Central Security Facility with Nida, yet he couldn't leave her side.
. . . .
So this would have to do. He would have to trust she really could look after herself. And if Cadet Nida Harper failed—which was an unfortunate likelihood given her history—he knew the entity would not. It was frightfully capable of looking after itself.
He just hoped it wouldn't come to that.
Every action the entity made came with a cost.
Sighing heavily and realizing how impossible things were becoming, Carson closed his eyes.
He only opened them again when Cara touched him once more.
Her armor on his, she weighed her hand onto his wrist. ‘You don't have time for regret. Just action. We need to plan. Then we will act. And when you're acting, this situation will no longer cripple you,’ she advised.
It was good advice.
It was what he needed to hear, in fact.
He blinked his eyes open to look at her, then finally nodded his head. ‘Alright,’ he croaked. ‘Let's do this.’
Chapter 12
Cadet Nida Harper
She couldn't keep up.
Things were changing so fast.
She had no anchor, nothing secure to hold onto.
She felt as though she were floating in a sea of confusion.
. . . .
Or maybe she did have an anchor.
She had Carson Blake.
And he was like a mountain.
His determination had all the strength of a raging bull.
But even with him at her side, she felt lost.
In every silent moment, she was assailed with one harrowing fact.
She didn't know enough to understand what was happening to her.
Only snippets of information here and there. Only stories. Only clues.
From the mention of the Goddess to what the entity had revealed.
It wasn't enough though.
It didn't stop Nida from feeling as though she were stumbling blindly into a trap.
Neither did it peel back the cold veil that had fallen over her eyes.
It felt as though something was stopping her from thinking, from concentrating long enough to come up with some elusive conclusion she desperately needed to realize.
Feeling suitably morose, she waited out the rest of the day until night fell.
She remained alone. None of the other members of the resistance seemed brave enough to talk to her, and Varo had clearly been warned off by Carson.
So, sitting on top of what looked like an old furnace, she let her legs dangle over the side of the rusted metal.
She tried to think.
It wouldn't work.
She wanted to sleep, but she was too scared to drift off.
She couldn't put up with another one of those visions.
She couldn’t watch the bodies of United Galactic Coalition members floating dead and lifeless in space.
Yet all too soon the hours slipped away, and she turned to see Carson walk slowly towards her.
It was the first time they had been alone since Harya had led them to the city.
She wanted to jump down from her seat and throw herself at him.
But she contained herself barely.
‘Carson,’ she said in a croaked, barely audible voice.
Before she could clamber down to greet him, he easily jumped up the side of the furnace and sat by her side.
Right by her side.
His leg gently pressed into hers.
Rather than face her, he spent several moments simply staring down at his armored hands.
He wasn't wearing his helmet, so she could see his exa
ct expression.
It was equal parts fear and sadness.
He looked lost, confused, and helpless.
After a bitter breath, he finally faced her. Though he tried to look into her eyes and search her gaze, he couldn't, and quickly turned back to his hands. ‘I'm sorry,’ he whispered.
She wasn't dumb enough to ask why.
Despite his better judgment, Carson was leaving her to attend to the mission.
And despite her better judgment, she was going to let him.
But she didn't want him to go. She couldn't bear the idea of being separated. He was her only true companion in this time and place, her only true reminder of where she'd come from.
Yet the entity had acted. It had convinced him to leave.
That hadn't been her voice telling him to go. Those hadn't been his words.
. . .
The entity knew best though, right? It had got them this far, it had protected them through innumerable dangers; it knew what to do.
She just had to trust it.
‘Nida, I'm sorry,’ he repeated bitterly.
She nodded.
Then silence descended between them.
The room they were in always creaked, the metal walls and ceiling moving slowly under whatever pressure the building above drove upon them.
And as she sat on top of that rusted furnace, her legs beat against the metal as she swung them back and forth.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
She listened to the sound of her shoes striking the rusted iron as she waited for him to speak.
‘I’ll . . . we'll get through this,’ he promised suddenly.
‘Yes,’ she answered.
Silence drew around them again. It felt like some kind of veil furling between them, cutting them off from each other.
As she felt that strange sensation and came up with that strange conclusion, she did something spontaneous.
It wasn't the entity forcing the move; it was her. Nida. The Nida that remained deep inside and could not be touched nor changed by this situation.
She reached out a hand and grabbed his. She pressed her fingers and thumbs against his armored gauntlet.
Her heart sung as he reacted to her grip, furling his fingers through hers.
Again they descended into silence, except this time it had a wholly different quality. It no longer felt as though they were alone; nothing separated them anymore.
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