Her left hand kept twitching as she slept.
Again, a restless silence descended on her, and he sat there uncomfortably on the edge of his chair as he listened to it.
She shifted her head to the side, sighing heavily.
She didn't wake up though.
A part of him felt wrong for watching her whilst she slumbered.
In fact, again he pushed to his feet.
This time he walked towards the door resolutely.
He didn't reach it.
She whispered something.
“Help me.”
Just two little words.
He could barely make them out.
And they locked him to the spot.
She shifted again, her left hand clutching harder at the air.
He stood there in the doorway, staring at her, waiting to hear it once more.
Just as his heart started to calm, she whispered those two little words again, “help me.”
She was still unconscious; the computer panel lodged into the wall above her bed confirmed that.
She was just talking in her sleep.
She said it one last time, then she shifted, rolling over, wrapping her arms around herself.
She stilled.
Her left hand stopped clutching at the air, and she didn't whisper another word.
It took him a long time to leave. In fact, it wasn't until a doctor walked in beside him that he managed to shift back from her.
He told the doctor she'd woken up, then he backed out of the room.
As he walked through the corridors of the medical bay, he felt numb.
Her whispered words kept echoing in his head.
She'd been asleep, and they had meant nothing, but he couldn't stop them from reverberating through his mind.
It took a long time to shake off their effects, but he couldn't forget them, no matter how hard he tried. Work, however, got in the way. And soon enough Carson found himself pulled into one distracting task after another.
He didn't get a chance to go back to see her that day. In fact, by the time he went to check on her, she'd been discharged again.
This time he didn't wait to chance upon her naturally. He went straight to her apartment.
True, he hardly knew her.
And, yeah, people might start to wonder why he was paying ‘the worst recruit in 1000 years' so much attention.
But that didn't stop him.
Chapter 11
Cadet Nida Harper
She tried to concentrate during her classes, but she couldn't. Her attention kept on drifting.
She swore she was seeing things. She even rang the medical bay to mention this to one of the doctors, but they reassured her it was nothing.
She just needed rest.
They'd released her about midday, and though she'd been given an order to return to her apartment for some bed rest, she'd ignored it.
It hadn't been a direct order, and she really couldn't afford to miss any more classes.
So she'd headed to her next lecture instead.
She'd slipped in the back of a lecture hall, yet again, just as Sharpe was finishing up some prosaic talk on the history of telekinetic implants.
She'd tried to pay attention to him, she honestly had, but all too soon, she'd realised that the people around her had stopped listening and had turned to stare at her instead.
She was no stranger to attention, but it only ever coincided with when she was making an idiot out of herself. Other than that, all the other cadets ignored her.
Well they weren't ignoring her now. She could feel their collective stares concentrate on the back of her neck with all the force of an anti-matter laser.
She tried to ignore it and focus on Sharpe, but she couldn't. Not only was it seriously hard to brush off everyone's gob smacked gazes, she simply couldn't focus. It felt as if her mind had been replaced with fog.
Once the lecture was over, she jumped up and scooted out the back before anyone could ask her questions.
Clearly, news about what had happened last night had spread.
She didn't want to answer any questions, because she doubted she could give a satisfactory reply.
She had no idea why her implant had malfunctioned, and that was a question only someone way smarter than her would be able to answer.
Though she tried to get away, it was hard, and she had to race past quite a few curious cadets to get to safety.
She quickly ducked down several corridors, feeling a little like she was running away from the press.
Then, finally, when the coast was clear, she felt a sudden burst of pain stab hard through her chest.
She doubled over and planted a hand on the wall beside her, breathing hard.
“Harper,” someone snapped.
She looked up to see Sharpe bearing down on her.
“Oh, umm,” she straightened, thankful her shooting pain lasted only for a few seconds.
Sharpe shot her a withering look, but it didn't last. With a shake of his head, he sighed. “What are you doing?” he asked, his exasperation clear.
“Oh, don't mind me,” she tried, patting at her uniform, trying to make it neat. “I had a little accident last night.”
“Little?” he gave a disbelieving laugh, “it was a major accident. And I know all about it.”
She winced. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to,” she began.
“It was hardly your fault, Harper,” he said.
“It wasn't?” she asked stupidly.
He gave a long-suffering sigh. Then he shooed several cadets along as they walked up the corridor, gawking at her.
She was silently thankful for his help. And it felt weird to be thankful for anything Sharpe did.
Then he returned his burning gaze to her, and she felt like withering up and dying on the spot.
“I thought your doctors told you to go back to your apartment to get some rest,” he enquired with a snap.
“Um, no, they suggested it. When I asked whether it was a direct order, they said it wasn't,” she managed bravely.
“Ha. So you thought you'd ignore their suggestion,” he stressed that word, “and come to class. Well I admire your sudden enthusiasm, but do us both a favour, and just go home.”
“I can't,” she swallowed hard, muscling up some courage as she did, “I'm too far behind.”
“You can catch up later,” he snapped.
“No. I'm fine,” she said with a firmer tone. “I can do this.”
“Harper,” he looked at her menacingly, “the doctors might not have ordered you back to your apartment, but I'm going to. Go back now,” he said each word slowly, “before someone has to carry you back,” he added under his breath.
She was used to being insulted by Sharpe; it happened nearly every day.
She usually didn't react; she would just tuck her chin in, nod her head, and mutter a “yes, sir.”
But this time she didn't.
Blame it on the fog in her mind, or the power of the dreams still haunting her, but she looked directly into his eyes. “You can't do that, sir. You can't override a medical decision; you aren't a doctor.”
Sharpe looked shocked for a second, then his eyebrows descended darkly over his eyes. “Are you challenging me?”
“No,” she choked, now realising this had been a bad idea, but also realising she couldn’t back down yet, “I'm just asking you to cut me some slack for once,” her voice wavered.
Dammit.
She hated showing weakness in front of Sharpe, because Sharpe treated weakness as an excuse to harass you even more.
He looked ready to shout at her, but he stopped.
He stood back.
He took a breath.
He shook his head. “Fine, you can go to class. But take it easy,” he said each word slowly, as if she were especially hard of hearing, “and if you black out, I will use this as a personal excuse to kick your ass. Do you understand?”
She nodded.
Had . .
. she just won?
Had she stood her ground against Commander Sharpe and actually managed to get him to change his mind?
“Be careful,” he snapped as he turned away from her. “And, Harper, I'm glad you're alright,” he added as he walked off.
. . . .
What?
Sharpe was glad she was alright?
Was he just messing with her?
Was this an alien mind game?
No, she realised as he walked off stiffly.
He was glad she was alright.
Because although he spent his life making hers hell, she knew deep down he didn't hate her.
Oh, he loathed her weakness and general incompetence, yes, but he didn't hate her.
Surprised at that realisation, she quickly ran to her next class, though she was careful not to push herself too hard.
Though the other cadets all stared at her and tried to ask her questions during her break, she managed to avoid them.
Then, eventually, she made her way back home.
She was exhausted.
Really, really exhausted.
When she got in the door to her apartment, she greeted the place with a shaking sigh.
She wanted a steaming hot bowl of pasta topped off with mounds of cheese. And she wanted it now.
She also wanted to curl up on the couch and waste the night away watching crap on the holo TV.
She wouldn't get the chance.
As soon as the doors closed behind her, Alicia was on her feet, marching up to Nida's side.
“What the hell happened to you?” she looked Nida squarely in the eyes.
Nida gulped, shrugging her shoulders as she brought her hands up to wave Alicia off. “I'm fine.”
“Fine?” Alicia spoke the word with all the force of a slap. “What do you mean? Have you seen your bedroom door?”
Nida turned to look at her door. “It seems fine.”
“That's because it was replaced,” Alicia huffed. “After that training cube of yours obliterated it.”
Nida blinked her eyes closed.
She didn't want to remember what had happened last night.
“Okay, this is too weird. But what are you doing just standing there?” Alicia snapped again.
“What should I be doing?” Nida asked warily.
“Go and sit on the couch, girl. Put your damn feet up. You almost died last night. I mean, you totally ruined my double date with the most eligible bachelors in all of the Academy, but you still almost died. And I'm a pretty forgiving soul.”
Nida looked at her flat mate askance. “Are you being nice to me?”
“Yes,” Alicia said defensively, taking Nida by the arm and leading her towards the couch. She even fluffed up a pillow.
“Why?”
“Because you almost died,” Alicia pointed out peevishly. “And I'm not a total bitch. And damn you for thinking I am,” she waggled a stiff finger at Nida. “Now, what do you want for dinner? Wait, no, I already know. One of those enormous bowls of pasta with cheese, right?”
Nida nodded happily.
“You're so predictable,” Alicia sighed. “Now tell me what happened when you got to the med bay? I've been trying to contact you all day, but you've been in classes. And what's up with that, by the way? What are you doing going to class after you almost died?”
It felt strange to hear Alicia repeating that fact.
Nida had almost died.
If it hadn't been for Carson and his friend, Travis, she would have.
She felt cold, and gave a tight shiver.
Alicia saw it, and immediately walked over to the panel on the wall, turning up the heat.
“So,” she asked after an almost polite pause, “what happened in the med bay? Or can you not talk about it?”
“Ha? I can talk about it,” Nida answered, confused at Alicia's suggestion.
“Really? I thought they'd be keeping this under wraps until they know exactly what happened to your implant. I mean, TIs aren't meant to malfunction. They used to in the bad old days, but one hasn't malfunctioned in years. So I just figured they wouldn't let you talk about it until they are damn sure what went wrong, so they can allay everyone's fears.”
Nida's lips dropped open.
She hadn't thought of that.
In fact, she'd barely considered why her implant had stuffed up.
It was, strangely enough, the least of her problems.
Her dreams, however, commanded her full attention.
“So what happened?” Alicia prompted again, clearly eager to get the full story.
“Ah, nothing much. They recalibrated my implant, apparently, and fixed me up. When I woke up this morning, Carson told me what happened. I fell asleep again, and then they discharged me and I went back to class. I'm afraid that's all I know. They didn't tell me anything more.”
Alicia turned, her mouth dropping open dramatically. “Sorry, what?” she asked excitedly.
“They recalibrated my implant,” Nida suggested hesitantly. “Do you think that means it malfunctioned? Do you think it's serious?”
“I'm sorry, skip back to the bit where you said Carson Blake told you what happened. Did he go to see you?” Alicia asked excitedly.
“Ah, no; he was there when I woke up.”
Alicia closed her eyes, then opened them wide. “What? He stayed with you the whole night? Are you serious?”
“Ah, I don't know. He was just there when I woke up. I think he'd been sitting in the chair in my room, waiting for me to regain consciousness.”
“Carson Blake?” Alicia questioned. “The Carson Blake?”
“Yes,” Nida managed quietly.
“Oh my god, Bridgett is going to kill you,” Alicia chuckled as she bit her lip.
She didn't sound malicious, and Nida scrunched her lips together. “It doesn't mean anything. I think he just . . . wanted to see if I was okay.”
“Yeah, so he spent the whole night sitting next to you, when he could have easily gone home to sleep, and check in on you later,” Alicia laughed harshly. “Because that makes so much sense.”
“Ah . . . I don't know if he stayed there the whole night,” Nida said, getting defensive. “Maybe he just popped in to see me. I don't know.”
“This is incredible,” Alicia continued, clearly ignoring Nida.
“It doesn't mean anything,” Nida tried again, her frustration building.
“What? Are you getting angry because the most eligible bachelor and popular guy in the Academy heroically saved you and spent the whole night at your bedside?” Alicia ticked her head from side to side.
“It doesn't mean anything,” Nida snapped again, “and why should I care if he's popular?”
“You are so weird,” Alicia rolled her eyes and let out a heavy sigh. “It's Carson Freaking Blake, man. It's Carson Blake,” she repeated slower.
“And he's just a guy,” Nida sat back, crossing her arms, knowing she was right. “I'm not interested in him,” she added.
Alicia guffawed. “What do you mean you're not interested? Are you blind? Have you ever seen him?”
“Yes,” Nida said, wanting to add she'd seen him up close several times as he'd saved her life.
“And you don't like what you see?” Alicia rallied.
“He's not an object,” Nida noted with a harrumph.
“Yeah, okay, he's not an object. But you're nuts. You can't seriously pretend you’re not even a little bit interested,” Alicia laughed.
“It doesn't matter,” Nida tried, “he's not interested in me. I'm not his type. Bridgett is,” she pointed out evenly.
“Ah ha, you are interested,” Alicia confirmed triumphantly, “and you're right. Bridgett is so his type—that's why I set them up on a date.”
Nida huffed. “He's just a guy,” she tried one last time.
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you the first time,” Alicia turned and fobbed a hand her way. “Now how much cheese do you want on your pasta exactly?” She walked over to the food
oven. It was a small, oblong box nestled into the wall. In one of the cupboards underneath it were stacks of silver foil nutrition packs. If you upended one of the packs into a bowl and loaded it into the oven, you could program the oven to make any of thousands of dishes.
“Lots,” Nida answered resolutely.
“Lots it is,” Alicia programmed the food oven, then stood back and waited for it to turn the simple contents of the foil bag into a steaming, hot bowl of pasta.
“Is Bridgett . . . really mad at me?” Nida asked, hating how pathetic she sounded.
“Who cares,” Alicia answered flatly. “You’re injured, so you get to do whatever you want,” Alicia stated as the food oven finally pinged. She opened it, pulled out the bowl, set it down on the bench as she realised how hot it was, then grabbed a spoon from a drawer.
Soon she delivered the hot bowl to Nida, and nodded firmly as she took it. “Good, now you've got your food, you can put your feet up.”
Nida laughed.
Alicia was rude, belligerent, and pretty darn arrogant, but sometimes she was nice too.
“Hey, don't laugh at me,” Alicia whirled on her foot and returned to the food oven, selecting her own pack, “I'm allowed to be nice to you once in a while.”
“Why only once in a while?” Nida asked around a steaming mouthful of pasta.
“Don't speak with your mouth open; it's unattractive,” Alicia pointed out properly. “And yeah, okay, so I should probably be nicer to you,” she admitted.
Nida actually set her bowl aside as she stared at Alicia warily. “Are you sick?”
“No,” Alicia snapped indignantly, “I just got the fright of my life yesterday when I saw that training cube try to slice you in half,” her tone pitched up and down.
Nida stopped teasing. “I'm sorry,” she managed quietly.
“Ha, god, you're so nice,” Alicia walked over to the oven and grabbed her food out, “you're not the one who's meant to be sorry, kid. I am. For being a monumental bitch all the time. So take the damn apology, and shift over,” Alicia announced as she reached the couch.
Nida moved to the side.
Even though Alicia was all of several months older than Nida, Alicia always referred to her as kid.
Nida would just let it slide; she let everything slide.
She did not stand up for herself, because it was easier to ignore everyone instead.
Ouroboros- The Complete Series Page 9