Ouroboros- The Complete Series

by Odette C. Bell

  ‘Explained to me eventually?’ Carson took a step backwards. It was a powerful, almost violent move, and immediately John brought out his gun.

  Travis made a motion with his arm, telling John to lower his weapon, but John did not. ‘Let’s just get him back to the medical bay,’ John suggested through a snarl.

  ‘What the hell is going on here?’ Carson asked through a wavering, tight tone. It pitched high in a loud scream, carrying and echoing through the entire corridor.

  ‘You’re confused,’ Travis said simply. ‘And she is dead.’

  With that, Carson took a snapped, frustrated step forward.

  An instant later, John shot him.

  Carson didn’t feel a thing as he lost consciousness and slammed into the cold floor of the Galactic Coalition Academy Cruiser Orion.

  Chapter 3

  Carson Blake

  This time when he awoke he did not bolt upright. Instead, it was a slow return to consciousness, as if he was being shepherded forward. And as he finally awoke, he realised he was literally being guided awake. Glancing languidly to his left, he saw a robotic arm injecting something into his neck. There was a vial of red coloured liquid in the syringe, and he watched it as it slowly disappeared, the contents entering his bloodstream.

  ‘You’re on board the Galactic Coalition Academy Cruiser Orion,’ a calm but firm voice said from his side.

  He blinked his eyes open, then closed them heavily, enjoying the sensation of the skin pressing tightly together.

  It was distracting.

  And he needed distracting.

  For his memory was a mess: snippets of sounds, scraps of sights, and one name tumbling and curling and twisting through his mind like a vortex.

  Nida.

  Though it took a great deal of effort to fight against whatever drug had just been pumped into his bloodstream, he forced his eyes open, then used all his energy to twist his head to the side. ‘Where is she?’ He croaked.

  He saw Admiral Lara Forest walk into view. She was dressed in her Galactic Coalition Academy uniform, the high collar cutting neatly against her trim neck. Her hands were held tightly behind her, and her stance was one of stiff composure. She looked down her nose at him, though it wasn’t an expression of superiority, just command. ‘She is dead. She died approximately three weeks ago.’

  Carson’s brow crumpled. ‘How long was I out?’ He could barely push his words out, not because his throat was closed off or injured in any way, but because he couldn’t form the thought. He didn’t want to. He didn’t want to comprehend what that statement could mean.

  ‘Approximately eight hours,’ the Admiral answered smoothly.

  Carson shook his head from side to side, the move a jerky one as his neck muscles twitched from fatigue. Still, he managed it. In fact, in that moment he could have jumped to his feet, grabbed the Admiral by her shoulders, and shook her instead. Because that was impossible.

  ‘She was right by my side eight hours ago,’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘You are delirious,’ Admiral Forest said simply. You clearly have not taken well to your medical treatment. When you were found by Travis and the rest of your team, you were in a bad way. Now calm down,’ she added, possibly sensing that Carson was about to jump to his feet again. ‘Or we will sedate you.’

  He opened his eyes to stare at her now. The Admiral was a hard woman, he knew that from experience, he also knew that she was the kind of person who should not be crossed. So if she promised to sedate him, he knew she would.

  But he didn’t care.

  ‘Listen to me, she couldn’t have died three weeks ago,’ Carson began.

  ‘Something has clearly affected your memory,’ the Admiral said, and for the first time a hint of emotion shimmered through her voice like light off a pool of water. ‘Cadet Nida Harper died in her room three weeks ago after a training accident. You were with her,’ the Admiral added.

  Carson’s mouth dropped open. ‘I was there, and she didn’t die. What’s happening?’

  The Admiral suddenly took several steps away and, in muted tones, exchanged several words with the doctor nearby.

  They both cast their wary glances towards Carson, and he simply stared back, his brow crumpled low over his eyes.

  Nida hadn’t died in her room. Carson had saved her. Christ, the memory of saving her from that wayward TI block would be with him for life. As would the sight of her dishevelled and limp on her bedroom floor.

  ‘We will have the counsellor come to see you,’ Forest suddenly announced.

  ‘I don’t need a counsellor,’ Carson began as he brought his hand up and pinched the bridge of his nose tightly, letting the fingernails sink hard into the flesh until they wrought half-moons into his skin. ‘I need this to make sense,’ he added through gritted teeth. ‘And I have to find her before it’s too late.’

  ‘Cadet Nida Harper was taken home by her parents and buried on their farm,’ the Admiral said in a quiet voice.

  Carson stiffened. Emotion ran through him, burning like fire. He blinked his eyes open, not caring that they now filled with tears. Again he twisted around until he looked straight at the Admiral. ‘I was with her eight hours ago on Remus 12. Don’t you remember the entity?’

  The Admiral made a face. ‘Entity?’

  ‘The cross dimensional being that infected her, the one that initiated an Endgame Manoeuvre—the entity, the entire reason you sent me to Remus 12,’ Carson reeled off his explanation, his voice becoming so choked, his words were barely audible.

  ‘You’re confused,’ the Admiral concluded again.

  ‘I am not confused,’ Carson shouted.

  ‘Calm down,’ the Admiral warned.

  Carson closed his eyes. He pushed his teeth together until the tension built up into pain, stabbing hard into his jaw and cheeks.

  This was impossible.

  This wasn’t happening.

  This was some sick joke, some accident, some game.

  It wasn’t reality.

  Cadet Nida Harper hadn’t died in her room three weeks ago.

  She was somewhere.

  Somewhere out there, in space and time, lost, without him, and alone.

  He opened his eyes.

  He was going to hold onto that memory. No matter what they said, no matter what they showed him, he knew what had happened.

  And he wasn’t going to forget her.

  Chapter 4

  Carson Blake

  It took a long time for the doctors to discharge him from the medical bay. In fact, it wasn’t until the Orion made it all the way back to Earth, that the psychiatrists were satisfied to let Carson out of their care.

  Everybody was worried about him.

  With good reason.

  He kept demanding to see a woman they all knew was dead.

  He had no idea what had happened. But he kept telling himself that he would do absolutely everything to find out.

  Of all the people aboard the Orion, Travis was categorically the most anxious about Carson. He wouldn’t leave his side.

  In fact, now, as Carson walked into his own apartment, Travis was barely two steps behind. ‘Home sweet home, huh?’ Travis said as he walked over to the couch and patted it with his hand.

  Carson didn’t say anything. He simply strode towards the windows, and as he reached them, he pushed a hand out and flattened his palm against the cool glass. He looked out at the cityscape beyond. The spires, the buildings, all catching the mid-morning sun, their smooth surfaces glinting under the bright illumination.

  He pressed his lips together, and didn’t blink once.

  He didn’t know why he was surveying that view so carefully; he’d lived here for years, and he’d seen it numerous times before. Yet now it captured his attention. And perhaps the reason it did so, was because he knew it was wrong.

  Everything.

  Everything was wrong.

  From the moment he had woken up on Remus 12 without Nida
by his side, his world had twisted and crumbled and cracked.

  ‘Carson?’ Travis asked quietly, pushing away from the couch and walking tentatively towards the window. ‘Are you sure you’re going to be all right?’

  Carson turned, pulling his gaze off the view and letting it settle a few centimetres above Travis’ left shoulder. Without looking at his buddy directly, Carson shrugged his shoulders, latched a hand on his chin, and nodded. ‘Sure,’ he said, in possibly the least convincing tone he’d ever mustered.

  Travis withdrew into a pointed silence. ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ he eventually managed.

  Carson froze.

  This wasn’t the first time Travis had tried to convince him that Nida’s death wasn’t Carson’s fault.

  And every single time Travis mentioned her name, Carson’s reaction would always be the same. His gut would clench with so much tension it was as if he thought he would be punched or stabbed or shot.

  With a cold sweat trickling down his back, Carson shook his head, walked towards the kitchen, and drew himself a large glass of water. Then he set it down on the bench, and considered it rather than drinking it.

  Travis let out a pressured breath. ‘Carson, you tried your hardest. It was an accident. There was nothing you could do.’

  Carson now grabbed the glass of water, but he did not bring it to his lips. Instead he let his fingers press as hard as they could around the unyielding bulk. He dug them in and in, until, with just a little more pressure, he knew he could make it break.

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘I know it wasn’t my fault,’ he said.

  Because that was what Travis wanted to hear.

  That was what everybody in this time wanted to hear. They wanted the great Carson Blake to say that he had been confused, that he knew Cadet Nida Harper had died in her room three weeks ago. That he had been delirious when he’d thought she had somehow survived and travelled to Remus 12 with an entity lodged deep in her chest.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault,’ Travis said one last time, his voice bottoming out low.

  Carson finally raised the glass to his lips, and he took a small sip. The liquid was cold as it sloshed down his throat, but he could barely feel it. Because he was numb.

  In fact, he had been numb ever since he had woken up on the Orion only for Admiral Forest to tell him Nida was gone.

  ‘Maybe I should hang around for a few hours. I mean, I’ve got nothing else to do,’ Travis added quickly.

  ‘I’m fine,’ Carson said stiffly. ‘And you’ve got plenty to do. You’re leading the Force now. And trust me, that isn’t a part-time job.’

  Travis didn’t say anything. Instead, he just stood there, right in the centre of the room, staring across at Carson, his expression befuddled, anxious, and edgy. ‘You need to . . . come back to work soon; it won’t be the same without you,’ Travis mumbled.

  Carson didn’t say anything.

  Suddenly Travis took an enormous, frustrated breath. ‘You just—you just have to get over it. Carson, you’ve lost people before, and this one wasn’t your fault.’

  Travis pushed his words out in one enormous breath, as if he were scared that if he didn’t take that exact moment, they would lodge deep in his throat forever.

  Carson bristled. He looked up sharply. He didn’t say anything though.

  ‘Carson, come on.’ Travis tried.

  Carson carefully set the glass down on the bench, then he used the same hand to grab the thin lip of wood that hung out from the bench and above the cupboards. He gripped it with all his might. Whilst he could shatter the glass if he wasn’t being careful, the bench could take all of his force. Maybe it would bruise his fingers, maybe it would cut the skin, but he didn’t care.

  He had to hold onto something in that moment; he had to contain himself. Because right now he wanted to lash out at everyone and everything. Friend or foe. United Galactic Coalition or Barbarian or Vex.

  He wanted to tear through reality until he found her.

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what to say,’ Travis finally gave up, pushing his hands into the air and then letting them drop by his sides. ‘It was a tragedy, a senseless tragedy.’

  And that was it, right?

  That was the sum of Cadet Nida Harper’s life.

  It had ended in tragedy.

  The worst recruit in 1000 years had succumbed to a training accident.

  And there was nothing more to say on the matter.

  Despite himself, Carson shook his head bitterly.

  Tears wanted to well in his eyes, yet at the same time, burning anger wanted to rush through his bones and boil his blood.

  ‘You don’t have to say anything. I understand,’ Carson forced himself to say. ‘She died—it wasn’t my fault,’ he summarised what people had been telling him for the past several days, but he did so in a dead, staccato voice that sounded more like a robot learning to speak than a man admitting the truth.

  Because this was no truth.

  It was twisted and ugly.

  Travis looked up, his eyes widening, the skin underneath them pale, slack, and tinged with yellow. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘Carson . . . ,’ he trailed off, ‘I . . . I’m sorry.’ With that, Travis took several steps back, shook his head, then made it to the door. He paused as it opened, and he turned over his shoulder to consider Carson quietly. ‘You know where I am if you need me, right? And you will call?’

  Carson nodded. Then, just before his friend could walk away, he added a quiet ‘thank you.’

  Finally the doors closed behind the retreating Travis, and Carson was alone.

  Alone.

  Immediately he pushed back from the bench, brought his hands up, and buried his face in them.

  He dug the fingers hard into his brow as tears streaked from his eyes, collecting over his palms.

  He didn’t remain like that for long though; all too soon, he brought his hands down in a violent swipe, cried out loud, and shook his head.

  This couldn’t be happening.

  It was as if history had been rewritten.

  That thought sunk through him with all the force of someone tying an anchor to his throat.

  He brought a hand up and patted his neck, but all too quickly, the move became violent again as frustration surged within. He clenched his hand into a fist, brought it around, and slammed it hard into the top of his couch. Though the fabric was yielding, his move was strong, and he made it right down to the hard backing.

  The couch buckled backwards, and actually fell, taking a section of his coffee table with it.

  He stood back, considering the destruction he’d just wrought, then whirled on his foot, brought his hands around, and slammed them onto his bench.

  It shook under his volley, and he brought his hands up, and slammed them down again.

  Any more of this, and he would either pull the bench and all of its fixtures from the wall, or he would break his hand.

  But he didn’t stop.

  He just took several steps backwards, closed his eyes, strode into the centre of the room, and screamed at the top of his lungs.

  He was suddenly more than thankful of the fact that all Galactic Coalition Academy apartments were soundproof.

  If anyone heard what he was saying right now, if they saw what he was doing, if they realised how unstable he was, he would be back in the med bay immediately.

  People were already concerned. But they couldn’t possibly understand what Carson was really going through.

  It took a long time for him to calm down, and even then, he could hardly classify himself as calm. But at least he stopped violently redecorating his apartment.

  Instead he stalked over to his couch, pulled it upright in one neat move, and sat on it heavily. Resting his elbows hard into his knees, he propped his chin on his hands, and he stared out at the view. His eyes were wide, his gaze dead.

  He had no idea what to do.

  Should he go back to Remus 12?

  Back to the t
unnels? If Nida really had been there, and he had simply missed her, he knew the Orion would not have. Its sophisticated scanners would have picked up the presence of another life sign, especially human.

  So what options did that leave him?

  Could he contact the entity?

  He doubted it. Only Nida could do that, and wherever she was, the entity was with her.

  So he just sat there, rocking back and forth, that dead gaze continually locked on the view. Eventually the morning gave way to midday, then afternoon, then night.

  He didn’t move. He felt and was immobilised by indecision. By surprise.

  Whilst travelling through time and arriving on Vex in the past had proven to Carson that time travel was possible, he wanted to believe that what was happening now wasn’t. Because this was terrifying.

  Had he somehow changed history?

  When Nida had opened the time gate, had she altered the present? Or worse, had Carson’s actions in the past changed the timeline?

  Was this his fault?

  He suddenly sat back, pushing his lips together in a powerful frown as he held back tears. Resting into his couch, he brought a hand up and pushed it over his eyes.

  He had to think. He had to do something. He couldn’t waste the entire day sitting there on his couch staring at the view and waiting for a solution to burst through his sorrow.

  ‘Come on,’ he begged himself. ‘Figure it out.’

  Just as those words flew from his lips, an idea struck him.

  Her file.

  He could look up Cadet Nida Harper’s file. Heck, he could look up his own file. If his life really had changed, if the time he had arrived in was not the time he had once left, then he could look for clues to substantiate that possibility.

  With renewed energy, he punched to his feet and practically threw himself across the room to the closest computer panel. Then he stood there, his fingers darting across it as he commanded the computer to access her file.

  He wasn’t thinking. Because if he had been thinking, he would have realised that not only did you need a reason to access another Galactic Coalition Academy member’s file, but every time such a file was accessed, the activity was logged.

  So it was no surprise when the computer suddenly beeped back at him that he didn’t have permission.