Ouroboros 1: Start

by Odette C. Bell

  He would be an awkward mess. Yet, with a steeling breath, he still forced himself to walk out of his apartment, down to the closest lift, and out into the glorious day.

  The stroll across Academy grounds to the main teaching building was a short and pleasant one.

  There was a lovely breeze picking up off the bay far away, and he could smell just a touch of fresh, salty surf in the air.

  Enormous trees lined the thoroughfare between the apartment complexes and the Academy headquarters, and their leaves rustled in the slight wind.

  If he hadn't had a lecture to get to, he would have kicked off his shoes, found a nice quiet section of the grounds, and taken a nap under one of those grand old oaks.

  He didn't have that luxury though. Plus, the place was already filling up with students, and he watched them all scoot around him, smiling or chatting happily as they did.

  He was a bit of a celebrity around here, he knew that, and though he’d once loved the attention, it was starting to wear thin.

  During his undergrad years, being popular had been a boon. He'd been invited to all the parties, he’d always had a date, and he’d generally had one hell of a time. Yet now, things had changed, because now he had responsibility. In fact, with every day, he had more and more.

  Now he wanted people to get out of his way so he could do what he had to. He didn't want cadets stopping him in the street to ask for holo photos, and neither did he want undergrads running up to him every second to ask for tips on telekinetic implants and deep space combat.

  “Get over yourself,” he whispered under his breath, realising how arrogant he must sound.

  With renewed vigour, he finally made it across the grounds and into the Academy headquarters. Then he set his jaw hard and forced himself to find the right lecture theatre.

  As the class started to fill with cadets, he tried not to look at how excited they all seemed.

  Okay, so he was relatively competent when it came to the use of his telekinetic implant, but for god's sake, he wasn't the expert everyone kept calling him. If all of these kids put in as much effort as he had, and practised for as many hours, they would be able to do everything he could.

  All too soon, Commander Sharpe came bustling up to him, and the lecture began. With a short introduction, Carson found himself thrust into the spotlight, literally. He had no problem with public speaking, but he couldn’t help but feel like a fraud as he stood there and pretended he had the right to be teaching anybody.

  Still, he put on a good show, strengthened his resolve, and got through it.

  Thankfully, halfway through, they turned off the spotlight, and gave him a bunch of telekinetic weapons to demonstrate instead.

  This part he loved; this part he could do in his sleep.

  There was something so invigorating about the use of his telekinetic implant—or the TI, as most people referred to it.

  When he was commanding it, and seeing objects fly across the room with little more than a thought, he felt so in control.

  Yet even as he demonstrated a powerful TI weapon known as the 10 pointed blade, it didn't stop him from looking up to see a particularly late cadet creep into the back of the lecture hall.

  Though he couldn't see them perfectly from where he stood, he could see their hair.

  Harper.

  He almost dropped the 10-pointed blade, but with a quick thought, held steady.

  She was 45 minutes late.

  And that was pretty late considering this lecture only ran for an hour.

  Pushing on with the rest of his talk, he soon finished, and before he could get away, he was inundated by questions.

  Though technically the class was over, and everyone was free to leave, nobody did.

  Nobody except Harper.

  He flicked his eyes up to see her surreptitiously slip out the back of the lecture hall.

  Ha.

  Had he been that boring?

  Clearly not, considering every other cadet in the hall was practically fighting each other for a chance to ask him something.

  It took a long time to wade through everybody's questions, but eventually he did it, then he finally found himself free and quickly scooted away from the lecture theatre before any more cadets could pick his brains.

  As he half jogged through the halls, intending to get back to his own office before anybody could waylay him again, he kept his eyes peeled.

  For Cadet Harper.

  He now had two things he wanted to ask. Why had she been so late for his lecture, and how in god’s name had she injured herself.

  He rolled his eyes as he realised he should just drop it. The medical staff aboard the Orion would have already questioned her, and if they’d thought there was anything suspicious, they would have looked into it.

  He told himself firmly to get over it, but the more he tried, the less he succeeded.

  Though he wanted to run into her, he didn't, and soon enough he reached his office. With a massive sigh, he considered the enormous mess of data pads and old, ruined TI weapons that were strewn around the place. He knew he should clean it up, but always told himself he didn't have the time.

  So instead of bending down and picking up the junk littering the floor, he pushed his way over to the windows. Then he looked down at the unrivalled view of the Academy grounds below.

  Before too long he found himself scanning the lawns, checking every corner for a hint of curly black hair.

  When he realised what he was doing, he shook his head.

  “Get over it,” he commanded himself one last time, “you're just trying to distract yourself from bigger things.”

  Which was true.

  Carson had far larger problems to consider, and just maybe he was using the not-so mysterious injuries of Cadet Harper to procrastinate.

  After he finally convinced himself that was the case, he turned, and he got back to work.

  Chapter 5

  Cadet Harper

  Dammit, she had done it again.

  She’d been late for class. She’d just overslept. Despite the fact her alarm was set diabolically loud, she had somehow snoozed right through.

  Was there something wrong with her?

  She had to get to her next class, but as she walked across the enormous, green grounds in between the Academy complex, she found herself slowing down.

  Before she knew it, she angled towards a tree on the far edge of the lawn, and promptly sat underneath it, pressing her back against its girth.

  She loved this tree, and she loved sitting exactly here. Because if you huddled yourself up just right, nobody could see you. It was just you, the tree, a slice of blue sky visible through the leaves, and relative silence.

  “Get to class,” she mumbled under her breath, admonishing herself as she did. “You can't afford any more reprimands,” she added with a grimace.

  But no matter how sternly she told herself to move, she couldn't. She just hugged her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth.

  She’d had some pretty weird dreams last night.

  Strange and deeply unsettling ones.

  She rocked back and forth harder and harder, her shoulders banging into the trunk behind her with a rhythmic thump, thump, thump.

  Every single dream had been about that planet. Remus 12.

  And all had featured odd, dancing, writhing blue light.

  She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the memories from her mind, but it wouldn't work.

  Impressions kept on forming there, like shapes in the clouds above.

  “Come on, get to class,” she clenched her teeth hard.

  But she couldn't.

  She just couldn't move.

  She felt immobilised by the flashes of her half-remembered dreams. Impressions, thoughts, visions. They swept around her, curling in and in like a rope wrapping around her middle.

  “It was just a dream.”

  Yet no matter how much she tried to convince herself it was nothing, her body twitche
d and stiffened under the flashing visions of her nightmares.

  Eventually she rested her head back, closing her eyes as she did.

  After several minutes of fighting against the sensations haunting her mind and body, she felt herself drift off.

  All thoughts of getting to class were forgotten.

  Soon enough all she was aware of was her slowly thumping heart and a beautiful, warm ray of sunshine filtering in through a break in the leaves above. It played against her face like the touch of a gentle hand.

  Then, before she knew it, she fell asleep.

  Just as soon as unconsciousness took her, she drifted straight into a dream.

  She was standing back on the surface of Remus 12. It was night. The stars glittered high above her, dancing and flickering and glimmering.

  She reached a hand up to them, but then, with a stab of shock, she realised blue light travelled across her skin. It jumped up from her wrist, curling around and pushing its way into her fingernails. Then it travelled deep down into her palm, caressing each bone and pushing its way through every vein, until it erupted again through her palm, twisting around every centimetre of her flesh as it burnt bright blue.

  She stared at it, fear and surprise coalescing in her heart until it felt as if she would pop.

  She tried to bat the blue light away, tried to push that dancing, writhing energy off her hand, but she couldn't move.

  “Help me,” she said under her breath, barely capable of opening her lips. “Help me,” she said again, panic rising in her heart like a lick of flame growing brighter and brighter.

  She looked up again, tearing her eyes off the terrible energy forcing its way through her, and she saw the stars cape above.

  It was different.

  The stars, the constellations, everything had changed.

  And then, in a moment of primal instinct, she knew why.

  It was old.

  This was old. The planet, the stars, the energy.

  Old.

  That knowledge built up in her with a horrible, pounding certainty.

  As it did, she began to feel ancient. All of the youth and vibrancy in her body washed away, and centimetre by centimetre, second by second, she began to stiffen. Like stone.

  She was turning into a statue.

  Returning to the earth. Returning to the ancient, dark reaches of time.

  She tried to scream. She couldn't. She tried to breathe, but her chest no longer moved up and down. All that shifted was that blue energy as it continued to rise through her arm, up into her neck, and deep, deep into her chest.

  Chapter 6

  Carson Blake

  He was at a loss. He’d given his lecture that morning, and then he'd gone back to his office to finish off whatever paperwork he'd been avoiding for the past few weeks. Now he had nothing to do. Which was unusual, because he was the head of the Force, and they existed to be busy. But right now, he was between missions.

  And it felt like hell.

  It gave him way too much time to think.

  And he really didn't need that right now.

  So he picked himself up and decided it was time for a walk instead. Trundling across the grounds, he found himself staying to the relatively unused paths. He really didn't want to be stopped by any undergrads for photos today. So he walked along the sides of the buildings, staying under the large trees, and enjoying the shade of their canopies. It was when he was slowly strolling past one enormous oak with a fantastically large trunk that he saw a cadet sleeping underneath it.

  He chuckled under his breath as he walked past, then he stopped.

  He recognised the black, unruly, spring-like hair.

  Cadet Harper.

  While he obviously didn't know much about her timetable, he could bet she was meant to be in class, and not snoozing under a tree.

  He cleared his throat.

  She didn't wake up.

  In fact, she looked deeply, deeply asleep. Apart from her soft, percussive breathing, the only thing that moved was her left hand. It slowly twitched, as if she were trying to hold onto something.

  She had an unnatural, restless silence about her, and he couldn't help but frown as he stood there and watched.

  Then she whispered something.

  He couldn't hear it properly, as it was little more than a mumble, but the quality of her tone lifted the fine hairs on the back of his neck and arms.

  Realising he could hardly stand there and watch her sleep when he knew she should be in class, he cleared his throat again. When that didn't work, he shifted forward and pushed the toe of her boot with his own.

  She snapped up, as if she'd been struck.

  Planting her hands next to her and pushing her back off the tree, she jolted forward with a full-bodied twitch.

  He actually jumped back, and as he did, he stared at her eyes as they shot open.

  For just a second, for one simple second, he thought he saw something dancing in her pupils. Something that shouldn't be there. A flash of blue.

  But again, he dismissed it immediately.

  She looked completely disoriented as she stared down at her hands, around her, up at the tree, then over to him.

  “You were sleeping,” he supplied with a cough.

  “What?” her voice was far off, and she quickly turned from him, staring down at the hand that had been twitching during her slumber. She appeared to consider it as if it somehow didn’t belong to her.

  “Are you . . . okay?” he tried slowly.

  Eventually she shook her head, looked back up at him, clearly realised who he was, and started to blush. “Oh . . . god . . . sorry, Lieutenant Blake.”

  “I think you should probably get to class,” he managed after a long and extremely awkward pause.

  “Class?” she asked, her confusion apparent. Then realisation clearly struck her, and she bolted to her feet. She swore loudly.

  He could have reprimanded her for it, but he didn't. Instead, he swallowed a small smile. “Didn’t you sleep properly last night?” he asked, realising the question was lame, but figuring he had to say something.

  “I . . . ,” she looked at him, then turned around, glanced at her hand, and shook her head. “I have to get to class.” She brushed the grass off her uniform, then turned around, staring at the buildings behind him as if she were trying to get her bearings.

  When he realised she was about to rush off, he pushed a hand out. “Hold on,” he began, realising this was a perfect opportunity to ask her some questions, “there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  She didn't glance his way as she brought up her wristwatch and typed something into it. She clearly had no idea where she was meant to be, but with another particularly bitter cuss, she began to rush off across the grounds.

  “Hold on,” he repeated as he jogged to catch up.

  “Oh no,” she muttered under her breath, “he's going to kill me.”

  “Who's going to kill you?” Carson easily kept pace beside her.

  “Commander Sharpe,” she groaned. “I am already on reprimand. Oh dammit, why the hell did I go to sleep under that tree?” She searched around herself frantically, as if she'd forgotten her way.

  “Where are you meant to be?” he asked helpfully.

  “Training Centre Alpha-2,” she looked down at her wristwatch again for confirmation. “I'm not very good with directions,” she added needlessly, “and I’ve only been in the training centre once before.”

  “It's this way,” he said as he waved her forward.

  He really didn't know why he was helping her get to class. He’d just caught her napping under a tree, and knew it was his duty to reprimand her for shirking off one of Sharpe’s tutorials. Instead, he led her on, confidently walking through the halls as she awkwardly strode beside him.

  Occasionally he would glance her way to note that her expression swung periodically between embarrassment and something . . . else.

  Fear.

  Panic of some desc
ription.

  She kept looking at her left hand too. Pumping it back and forth as if she’d lost circulation to it.

  “What were you dreaming of?” he found himself asking suddenly and possibly a little rudely.

  She blinked as they entered the long corridor that led directly to Training Centre Alpha-2. “Sorry?”

  He cleared his throat. “Before, under the tree, you looked like you were dreaming. You even said something under your breath . . . . So I was just wondering . . . never mind,” he grimaced at how dumb he sounded.

  “I wasn't dreaming,” she answered with an almost dead tone. “And thank you for directing me here, Lieutenant,” she nodded, even offering a salute. And though every other move she made was ungainly and uncoordinated, the salute was snapped, sharp, and proper. For some strange reason, he felt compelled to give one in reply.

  Then she scooted off without another word.

  He desperately wanted to know what she had dreamt of, and what was wrong with her left hand, and, come to think of it, what exactly had happened to her down on Remus 12, but she turned and ran to class without even glancing over her shoulder towards him.

  He stood there, staring at the enormous black doors of the training centre she'd just run through.

  “Ha,” he muttered under his breath. “This is just weird,” he admitted objectively. Then he shook his head, realising he had other things to do, and forced himself to walk away.

  He didn't get far.

  Just as he rounded the corner, Sharpe came marching up towards him. “Blake, just who I’ve been looking for. My other tutor for this session is sick, and I need somebody to stand in right now. You don't look busy. Are you busy?” he asked pointedly.

  If it were anybody else asking that question, Blake would have brushed them off. He was leader of the Force, after all, and could easily come up with an excuse to get out of most things.

  But Commander Sharpe was Commander Sharpe, and Blake owed it to him. So, with a groan, he admitted he wasn't, and Sharpe took him by the arm, turned him around, and shoved him forward. “I know this is a little bit below your level of expertise, Lieutenant, but I need you to help me demonstrate class I TI weapons to some of my students.”