Ouroboros 1: Start Page 18

  And when they tried to shoot her again, the bullets only slowed down and circled around her, joining with the other pulses of light that were already there. In fact, as Nida sent tendrils of blue energy into the cracked concrete floor, dust from where she had broken it reached up, lifted into the air, and joined the bullets as they all circled her.

  As more and more energy pumped down from her hand into the floor, she watched it snake its way up into the walls and ceiling. She saw it shoot forward, following an erratic path, like droplets of water streaking down a windowpane.

  As the energy raced across the white walls, the presence in her mind thinned.

  Then she saw flashes.

  Flashes of the rest of the building.

  She saw rooms and doors and panels and the faces of doctors and technicians and security guards. She saw the basement, she saw the roof, and she saw the beautiful blue sky above.

  Concentrating on the vision of a panel in a secure room, filled with other softly glowing technology, she watched the blue light power into it, encasing it in tendrils of glowing energy.

  “Do not worry,” the presence in her mind commanded her. “We will escape. We will escape,” it repeated.

  She simply knelt there on the floor, her palms still locked onto the cold concrete as her eyes stared, unfocused at the blue energy branching through the walls.

  Then she felt it. The presence returned to her, and in a snap, the branching energy infecting the hallway returned to her too.

  The blue light just shot back into her body as if it had been attached to a tether she had just yanked.

  She stumbled to her feet, her hands now glowing even more than they had before.

  All of a sudden the red alert klaxon stopped.

  And she knew, without question, that it had been her doing. No, it had been the presence.

  The entity in her mind had turned it off.

  “We have disabled the security of this building,” the presence told her in its soft, disembodied voice. “We have found an escape. We will make it off this planet,” it concluded.

  That fact made Nida's heart sing.

  Without the ability to stop herself, she walked forward, her movements still jerky and lumbering as if she were a doll being moved by a child.

  As she walked through the corridor, doors opened for her, the handles rattling or the panels sparking as more energy shot out from her and infested them.

  As she stumbled forward, the presence guided her, and somehow it ensured her route was clear. She did not pass another single security guard, and nor did she see a doctor or technician.

  Perhaps they were all trapped in some room, or maybe they had fled the building. It didn't matter. All that counted was that nobody stood in her way.

  The buildings of the Academy complex were connected by underground tunnels, and some of them even had over ground bridges that connected the skyscrapers.

  It was for one of these bridges that she now headed.

  No matter how far she walked, and through how many halls and corridors she passed, she did not meet another soul.

  Nor did she come across any resistance at all.

  Still, it took her some time to figure out where she was headed.

  The ship dock.

  It was an enormous building, and it was where the Academy kept all of its light cruisers, the heavier stuff always remaining in orbit and never descending to the surface.

  As she walked, she still moved like a puppet being jerked around on a string. Her shoulders would twitch to the side as her legs took fumbling steps. This process repeated itself until she finally reached the space dock.

  Usually this building was full of engineers and technicians and cadets and officers preparing for missions.

  It was a hub of activity 24 hours a day. The lights were never off.

  But now the lights were off as she entered the building from the ground level. And there was nobody to be seen.

  The panic tried to punch through the calm that had descended through her, yet it could not. She appreciated the fact she was alone and that it was unusual, but that was it.

  She lumbered forward and soon reached a lift. In the blink of an eye, it took her to the top level of the building.

  Above her, the mid-morning sun smiled down, and it would have been pleasant to lie flat on her back to watch the shapes in the clouds as they drifted on by.

  She didn't.

  Instead, she staggered across the deserted platform towards a ship on the far side.

  It was small, barely several meters square, and she recognised the design as a standard fast cruiser.

  It was built for maximum speed and nothing else.

  She had no idea how to prep the ship for flight; she'd never been particularly good in flight school, and had certainly not been taught how to master a light cruiser yet. Especially on her own.

  But that didn't matter.

  She made her ungainly way towards it. As she did, light bled from her hands and feet. It danced into the clean, smooth, white metal floor, and shot towards the waiting vessel.

  The sight was incredible, unbelievable, in fact, as that blue glow ate up into the sides of the ship, plunging into the metal as if it were nothing more substantial than air itself.

  She did not stop walking towards it until finally she reached it. As she did, the small hatch at the side of the ship opened with a hiss.

  She made her way inside and sat in the single seat surrounded by panels at the front of the tiny vessel.

  As she sat, the hatch closed, and in a blink, the panels before her all turned on. Seconds later, she could hear the rumble as the ship's engines engaged as well.

  Without a command from her, the vessel lifted up with a jerk, and hovered several meters above the white, gleaming floor of the hangar bay.

  She ticked her head up, considering the startling view of the clear blue sky above.

  Then, without warning, the vessel pitched to the side and shot upwards.

  Nida was not thrown back in her seat; all spacefaring vessels had internal gravity and could dampen the impact of inertia at all but the fastest speeds.

  But she did find herself slumping against the back of her seat, her limbs incapable of movement.

  In fact, as she forced her eyes to scan her hands, she noted that the blue energy was now pushing back into her left hand, receding down every one of her muscles and bones until it rested once more in her palm.

  She blinked at it, sudden lethargy taking hold.

  Slowly she faced the view before her, and noted that the ship had already passed high above the cloud line, and she could see space glittering a distinct navy-blue through the final levels of the Earth's atmosphere.

  Soon she would punch through and make it out into orbit. Then, she would be in space.

  And she would head home, she added as an afterthought.

  Home.

  . . . .

  She rallied to stay awake; she rallied to take hold of her concentration.

  Though it was terribly, painfully, mind-bogglingly hard, she managed to scrape together enough awareness to realise what had just happened.

  And the fact of it stilled her with perfect terror.

  She had broken her way out of the Academy, and she had no idea how.

  The halls had been empty, and the ship had been waiting for her.

  Where had everyone gone?

  And more to the point were they safe? Had the presence—the blue energy residing in her left palm—hurt them in some way?

  As soon as she questioned that, the presence in her mind returned. It seemed to caress her with invisible hands, drawing her close and embracing her, filling her with reassuring calm.

  “They are fine,” it told her, “and we are going home.”

  Too tired to fight that thought, she relaxed into it. And as she did, sleep reached up to take her.

  Chapter 24

  Carson Blake

  He awoke to the computer going ballistic.


  Practically falling from his seat, he shook himself awake, then commanded the computer to tell him what the hell was going on.

  “Priority one message from the Academy,” the computer noted in an electronic tone, “there has been a Level Four incident.”

  Carson blinked back his surprise. Level Four? What was that . . . ? Alien incursion?

  It took awhile to remember what it was, because, in all his years at the Academy, it had never come up.

  The Academy was part of the United Galactic Coalition, and the United Galactic Coalition was by far the most powerful force in all of the galaxy. It commanded almost 60 percent of the solar systems of the Milky Way, and there were very few entities that dared disturb it. Made up of over 90 different races, the United Galactic Coalition had been peaceful for over 100 years. Yes, there were the occasional wars with various alien races and empires, and yes, there was always a persistent problem with terrorists and pirates, but for an alien race to attack Earth? To attack the Academy?

  He couldn't believe the computer. So he jumped to his feet and rushed over to the nearest computer panel. Typing in several codes, in a flash the enormous view screen before him lit up with the face of Admiral Forest.

  “Priority one message received,” the computer told him in a bored voice.

  “Admiral,” he shouted, “what's going on down there? My computer just told me you're suffering an alien incursion. What the hell?” He wasn't exactly being eloquent, but how could he be in a situation like this?

  The Admiral's expression was drawn, and her eyes were even more hooded with fatigue, but she didn't look as if she were currently engaged in an epic battle with an alien empire. She just looked . . . shocked.

  Yes, that's it, shocked.

  Carson rocked back on his feet, waiting for her to reply.

  “I don't know how to . . . begin,” she brought a hand up and scratched at her throat, the move distracted and completely unlike her.

  “Admiral?” His eyes drew wide in reaction to her clear and unmistakable confusion.

  She shook her head. “We have had an incident. Cadet Nida Harper has escaped.”

  “Escaped?” he repeated the word as if he couldn't understand it.

  “That . . . thing . . . the entity—whatever is infesting her implant—it was far, far more powerful than we accounted for. It infested our computer systems. It locked us out. Somehow it controlled her body. We don't know how. It broke out of the hospital and played havoc with our systems. It somehow initiated an Endgame Manoeuvre,” the Admiral shook her head as she spoke, as if she couldn't even believe her own words.

  And if Admiral Forest couldn't believe what she was saying, what hope did Carson have?

  Because what she was saying, was impossible. “Endgame Manoeuvre?” He repeated, completely dumbstruck.

  He expected her to shake her head, and explain she'd just been joking. But she didn't. “The entity managed to have every single person in the Academy compound transported out of it. No matter where they were and no matter who they were.”

  Carson jerked back as if he'd been struck.

  He had never, ever actually seen an Endgame Manoeuvre. Because he had never had cause to.

  The Academy had multiple strategies to deal with various scenarios. Ranging from the likely, right down to the apocalyptic. And an Endgame Manoeuvre was what you did when all else was lost. If the Academy compound itself were ever compromised, the computer system would eke out every scrap of power from every single generator and use it to transport all Academy members off the premises.

  It was what you would do if an alien army were assaulting the compound. It was what you would do if a powerful weapon was about to destroy the city.

  And yet, according to Admiral Forest, Cadet Nida had just performed one. Or, if not Nida, then whatever infested her implant, as the Admiral had put it.

  Carson stood there for god knows how long, staring up at the picture of Admiral Forest, waiting for her to tell him how this all made sense.

  She didn't though. She simply stared back at him, his own fear reflected in her contorted, sorrowful, deeply confused expression.

  “Admiral,” he said through a croaky voice, “how . . . ?” he trailed off.

  “The entity, as we are now calling it, is far more powerful than we guessed. It can travel through material. From concrete to metal to reinforced nano fibbers, it doesn't matter. And it can infest systems. It can imbue them with power. That's what it did. It managed to infect our computer cores, and triggered the Endgame Manoeuvre, transporting every single soul off the premises. Then, as far as we can tell, it took Nida to the space docks, and stole a ship. According to the Earth's security satellites, it left almost half an hour ago. We had no hope of stopping it; we only made it back to the compound five minutes ago.”

  Carson didn't know what to do, so he found himself turning around, heading over to the captain's seat, and sitting slowly. It was that or falling down.

  When he faced the Admiral again, she finally appeared to have controlled her expression. She stared at him with thin-lipped anger. “I can't believe we underestimated it.”

  It.

  The entity, as they were now calling the blue energy that had infected Nida’s implant.

  “This is . . . ,” the Admiral said, but she didn't finish her sentence; instead, she squeezed her eyes shut. Carson could see from the skin stretching tight around her eyelids just how pronounced and pressured the move was.

  “Have you sent ships after her?”

  The Admiral finally opened her eyes, and it was to shoot him an extremely terse look. “Of course we have. But you, quite possibly, are closest. Your vessel is equipped with a specialised relativity drive that will enable it to get there faster than anything we already have on her tail. I am ordering you around.”

  “What are her last known coordinates?” Carson asked through a choked breath.

  “We do not know. The Earth security satellites tracked her out of the atmosphere, but that's it. Beyond that, we have lost all record of her. It is reasonable to assume that the entity has somehow shielded her vessel from detection.”

  That was a very hard statement to swallow.

  Not only was this entity a terribly amorphous and ill defined force, but how exactly could it snap its immaterial fingers and hide an entire cruiser from sight?

  The Admiral appeared to realise just how strange her statement had been, and she shook her head. “We know nothing about what is going on here, nothing. It doesn't make sense. I know that,” she said through gritted teeth, making each one of her words akin to a snake's hiss. “But we may never find out if we let that vessel escape. Our priority is to capture it.”

  “And Cadet Harper?” He found himself asking, his voice little more than a light whisper.

  “Our priority is the entity. We need to capture it, study it, and find out just how much of a threat it is,” the Admiral snapped, answering his question without answering it.

  Carson wanted to say something in Nida's defence, but it was useless.

  She was no longer anyone's priority, as harsh as that sounded. If the Admiral was telling the truth, and she had no reason not to be, then this situation had just become perilously dangerous.

  He sat back hard in his chair, forcing his shoulders as far into the yielding leather as they would go.

  The Admiral considered him with a tightly closed mouth and a brow smoothed with worry. “Fix this,” she suddenly commanded. “You have my permission to do what you need to, to fix this.”

  He straightened. “Admiral?”

  “You are the head of the Force, Lieutenant Carson Blake, and right now, I'm giving you a blank check to get this sorted. Alright, not a blank check,” she clarified, “but I am extending your powers and upgrading your authority. I have a feeling that there will be no easy solution to this, and I doubt throwing torpedoes and plasma blasts its way can solve anything. This is going to take tact, diplomacy, and investigation. So, Lieutenant, I rep
eat my order: fix this.”

  It was unlike any order he had ever received. There were no clear operational parameters. There was simply the amorphous fact that the Admiral was asking him to fix what was wrong. Which was particularly hard considering the sheer number of things that had stuffed up here.

  But he understood the gist of her request.

  “Though we are sending the entire Fifth and Twelfth fleets to intercept that stolen cruiser, I doubt their efforts will come to much. We have not yet tapped the abilities of this entity, and to be honest, I don't want to provoke it any further. If it could infiltrate our computer system and initiate an Endgame Manoeuvre without any authority from the Council, then I shudder to think of what else it is capable of. It can clearly manipulate technology at a distance, and it can also protect itself. When the Cadet broke out of the hospital, a security team tried to force her back. According to their reports, though they shot at her, no bullet landed. Some kind of force sent every object that neared her spinning around as if trapped in a vortex,” the Admiral's explanation was choppy and she paused for breath after almost every word, but once she was done, she turned her pleading, but still commanding gaze, back onto Carson. “Do what you have to, Lieutenant. Try to intercept that ship, but if it doesn't work, head back to Remus 12. If that's what you think is best. You're closer to this situation than I am. I'm relying on you, so is the rest of the Academy.”

  Wow, so no pressure, then? A rebellious part of Carson's mind thought.

  Then he shook his head and really pondered what the Admiral had just told him.

  He was on his own here.

  “We don't have time to send you reinforcements, and you certainly can't return to Earth. You need to use the Farsight to its utmost potential. Figure out what's going on,” she repeated.

  Figure out what's going on?

  Him?

  He didn't deserve this task.

  He'd failed already, after all.

  He'd suspected there was something wrong with Cadet Nida for the past several days, and yet he hadn't had the intelligence to do anything about it. Though he realised he was being slightly unfair to himself, considering how often he had tried to look in on her, it didn't matter.