Fractured Mind Episode One (A Galactic Coalition Academy Series) Page 3
Chapter 3
Cadet Sarah Sinclair
As soon as she closed her eyes, her consciousness walked her straight back into that same dream.
It didn't matter that the doctors had already pumped her full of their drugs that morning.
The dream was irrepressible.
Because it wasn't a goddamn dream.
She appeared in the ice facility, down one of the shafts, a combat knife still in her hand.
Behind her, no more than 10 meters away, she heard the deliberate footfall of the hunter.
She pressed into action without pause.
She pivoted her head, spun her gaze from side-to-side, and checked for a way out.
She saw a few more broken crates lined up against the massive shaft wall 20 meters away.
She pushed toward them, boots scrabbling over the ice-covered floor.
It was murder to keep her balance. The damage to her left leg was so extensive every step jolted, more and more blood splattering out onto the frozen white-blue ice.
She found the strength to push into a run. She locked her gaze on those crates.
Though the combat knife was good, if she could just get her hands on a gun—
Too late.
The hunter sped up to its full momentum.
All this time it had just been shadowing her, weakening her, waiting for her injuries to take their toll. Now, just when true weapons could be within her grasp, it pounced.
She screamed as she threw herself to the ground, ignored her injury, and crunched into a roll.
Her muscles shook, practically vibrated at the beating she was putting them through.
It was better than death.
Something slammed into the ice where she'd been, and she heard it crack like a massive pane of glass falling to the floor.
A shudder passed through the shaft and sank into her feet. It wasn't powerful enough that it pitched her forward, but it robbed her of a little of her precious balance, and she teetered to the side.
It was the opportunity the hunter needed.
It snapped up behind her, locked a hand around her throat, and pulled her off her feet.
She couldn't spare the breath to scream as it shoved so hard against her windpipe she heard something snap.
Instantly stars spun into her vision, her body growing number and number until—
No.
Just as she felt herself dying, just as the dream threatened to end, Sarah Sinclair fought against its violent conclusion.
She would not die. Could not die again.
Somehow she found the strength to activate the combat knife still in her hand. It twisted in her grip as it opened. She clutched it with her bleeding, sweaty fingers and plunged it into the hunter's hip.
By all rights, she shouldn't have the strength to even dent its white armor.
But somehow, from somewhere, she found the force to dig the blade in like a knife through butter.
A terrifying screech that echoed through the cavernous shaft, bouncing off the walls and ceiling.
It came from the hunter's armor.
Sarah kept digging the knife in, her teeth clenched so hard she caught a section of her lip and cut it, blood trickling down her mouth and over her chin.
She screamed, using that last ounce of her energy to slice the knife to the side.
The hunter lurched back, dropped the suffocating arm from around Sarah's neck, and fell to one knee.
Sarah didn't wait.
Still using whatever last scrap of energy she could scrounge, she lurched forward on her knees and sank the combat knife into the hunter's neck.
The left nape of the hunter's neck, to be precise.
... It was always the same.
Whenever Sarah managed to kill the hunter, she remembered every other time she'd killed the hunter, too. And it was always the same. She always sank some kind of weapon into the same spot – just at the point where the hunter's left arm connected to its neck.
Always the same.
Always the same....
The hunter jerked, tried to clutch at Sarah's arm, tried to use its superior strength to pull her back.
It didn't matter.
Sarah shifted behind it, wrapped an arm around its throat, and kept digging the knife into its neck until finally red blood spurted from the hole.
Its white armor began to crack, fissure lines shattering down its shoulder until they reached a tipping point, and the armor fell off with a clang.
Sarah stared down at the hunter.
Stared down at the chestnut brown hair, the brown eyes, the pale skin.
She stared down at herself. Then she shifted forward and cut her own throat.
And the dream – whatever it was – ended.
Sarah did not bolt awake, not this time.
She lay in her bed, frozen, almost drowning in her own sweat.
Her covers and pillow were somehow on the other side of the room, but it was nothing compared to the state the rest of her stuff was in.
She'd broken her lamp this time, and she'd swept everything off her desk, most of it a smashed mess against her covers.
Slowly she brought up an arm and positioned it around the back of her neck, leaning against it as she stared with a dead gaze up at the ceiling.
She should be screaming, desperately clutching a hand to her throat, terrified at the dream she'd just had.
... She'd slit her own throat. And all this time, the hunter had been her.
And yet, Sarah Sinclair didn't make a sound. Not a single noise.
She pressed her head harder against her arm until she felt numb tingles spread into her wrist.
An ordinary person, after a dream like that, after dreams so vivid and violent, would seek help.
She knew there was no point.
So Sarah leaned down, plucked up her pillow, brushed the remnants of her lamp off it, secured it under her head, and went back to sleep.
As she drifted off and a new dream rose to meet her, she couldn't deny one sensation.
It felt as if someone was walking over her grave.
...
Lieutenant Karax
He stood in the large room, back directed toward the view as he neatened his uniform and waited.
He didn't have to wait long.
A second later, the doors opened, and Admiral Forest walked in, leading two Corthanx Traders.
They were small, with hunched bodies, faces hid entirely by cloaks.
It was a crime in their culture to reveal their faces.
A useful rule – as the Corthanx Traders were known for their illicit ways. He hadn't been kidding when he'd said they would trade with anyone. And if you did commit yourself to a life of crime, it sure was handy to keep your appearance under wraps.
He let a pressured breath sink deep into his chest. It pushed his shoulders out, suddenly made him keenly aware of his implants.
Though he'd agreed to stow his misgivings, he couldn't ignore them completely.
He'd promised himself, every night before going to sleep, that he would never help the Barbarians in any way. Maybe Admiral Forest was right, and the traders no longer had any ties to the Barbarian Empire – but Karax doubted that. Which meant that right now, right here, he was betraying his values.
Naturally, his jaw stiffened.
The Admiral led the traders into the room, completing all perfunctory greetings and switching smoothly into the role of the gracious host.
There were several other high-level officers in the room.
Technically speaking, Karax shouldn't have to do a thing. He was only here to assess the worth of the true intelligence holograms, not to make the traders feel at home.
So it didn't take long until he found himself turning, his gaze searching the horizon.
Once more – as ever – he was pulled into the scale of the Academy grounds framed by the sky above. And yet, while that scale could usually take his breath away, he found his gaze searching through the build
ings until it locked on one of the accommodation blocks.
It was where Sarah Sinclair lived.
He found himself wondering if she was okay. Yes, he knew it was a stark turnaround from his attitude this morning, and yet the more he thought about her, the more he felt sorry for her.
Her troubles had been an academic fact before today.
Now that image of her thrashing in the cobbled laneway would be with him for life.
The Admiral cleared her throat. “Lieutenant Karax here will be in charge of implementing our training program.”
Karax spun on his foot and realized the diplomatic party were behind him. “Yes, sorry, Admiral, that's correct.” He nodded politely at the two traders. “I will be implementing the program. And I must say, I have quite a few questions—”
One of the traders raised a hand dismissively. “All questions will be answered by a demonstration.”
He frowned. “It will take some time to adapt the Academy's holographic emitters to sustain your program. And it may be best that we do not try at this stage—” he began, not even attempting to hide the wariness in his tone.
The trader waved dismissively toward him again, not even bothering to look his way, locking its attention on the Admiral instead. “First demonstration will be with a portable holographic kit.” Without pause, the trader stepped aside, and the other trader brought up a case it had been holding stiffly in its hand.
Without waiting for permission, it dropped to one knee and opened the case. As soon as it did, the case began to change, growing into a box-like console with strips of green light glowing down the sides.
Immediately Karax twisted to stare at the Admiral.
He waited for her to tell the traders that this was out of line. That it was too soon.
She didn't. Instead, she stood there, hands clasped behind her back, stony expression locked on the console.
... Even though her expression was controlled, he swore he saw something underneath.
Something he convinced himself could never be there.
True terror.
He had no idea how many resources the Coalition had lost to the Ornax. But as he stared at Forest, he realized it had to be enough to push the Admiral this far.
Before Karax could be potentially insubordinate and voice his own concerns, the portable emitter jerked into life.
A split second later, the woman in white appeared.
Half an inch in front of Karax's face.
He jolted back, eyes growing wide and locking on that smooth helmet, especially the two red lines that ran down her left cheek.
This close, he could clearly see that they were smeared blood.
The woman in white... was perfect.
She was indiscernible from a real live human being.
Even as one of the traders shifted in front of the portable emitter, the hologram didn't change. Didn't flicker. It remained just as perfect as before.
Before he knew what he was doing, Lieutenant Karax reached out a hand and tapped it on the woman in white's shoulder.
... Real. The sound of his fingers tapping against the metal, the feel of the armor's texture under his skin. He could even hear the steady low beat of her breath.
As he drew his hand back and let it fall slack at his side, he shifted to the left.
Her helmet turned to follow him, her chestnut brown hair tapering down her back.
There was something about that hair—
“Who will fight Sora?” One of the traders demanded.
“What, here?” Karax questioned immediately.
The trader nodded. “Here. Now. Sora is versatile. Can fight in any setting.”
“Sora?”
The trader pointed at the woman in white.
Sora was an unusual name around these parts, but not where he came from.
In fact, he'd known a Sora on his home planet... she too had died like his brother in the first wave of Barbarian attacks.
Karax couldn't help but stiffen, and as tension climbed up his back and locked into his jaw, Sora tilted her head to the side and appeared to watch him, the end of her ponytail trailing over her left shoulder.
It drew his attention to... something.
At the nape of her neck, was a point. Nothing more than a black triangle sunk a little under the line of her armor.
He frowned at it.
He brought a finger up and pointed at it, knowing he couldn't push his curiosity away. “What's that?”
“Irrelevant,” one of the traders snapped. “Only thing that is relevant is who wants to fight her.”
The Admiral cleared her throat. “It would be inappropriate to hold a display match in this room. It simply isn't equipped.”
“Inappropriate doesn't count,” the trader said. “Only thing that counts is learning to fight like the Ornax. They will fight you in boardrooms, in buildings, anywhere. You must learn to fight them, too.”
It was a halting argument, not helped by the trader's stilted turn of phrase. Yet it appeared to have an effect on the Admiral.
She shook her head lightly before nodding. “Very well. A simple demonstration. An easy one. I don't want anyone thrown out the windows. Nor do I want any damage to the room or my people. Do you understand?”
The trader bowed low, its cloak always remaining firmly over its eyes. Even in a full wind, a Corthanx cloak would not blow up and reveal its owner's face.
Karax assumed that the trader would wait – find out who wanted to tussle with the hologram before turning it on.
The trader didn't wait.
It made a specific gesture with its hand, and Sora appeared to come to life. But that wasn't entirely correct, even as she stood there, she still breathed, still shifted her head around with attentiveness.
But this, this was different. In a single second, she shifted forward, right toward him.
He was the closest, sure, yet he couldn't help but suspect that she zeroed in on him for some other reason.
Whatever it was, it didn't matter.
Her speed and agility did.
He shifted to the side, pivoted on his foot, rounded his shoulder, and shoved her as she went to grab him.
She wasn't strong enough that she could withstand his blow. Instead, she absorbed it, pushed into a roll, and immediately snaked out with a kick.
She saw an opportunity he hadn't, and he paid for it.
The kick sank into his right ankle, and he was pushed off balance.
Rather than slam to the floor, he shunted backward,
He shoved out at her with a kick.
It was well-placed and let out a resounding clang as his boot slammed against her armored ankle.
Again she fell, but again she rolled.
She shoved forward and shifted behind him, wrapping a strong arm around his neck and pushing hard against his windpipe.
He let out a roar as he used the cybernetic implants in his right shoulder to shore up his back and give him the power to latch a hand on her arm and yank it forward.
Though his move was strong enough to break her grip, she instantly responded by locking a leg around his stomach, pushing into it, and knocking him off balance.
Before he knew what was happening, she rolled onto his back, dug her elbow into the base of his spine in a vicious move, and latched onto his neck.
He tried to shift a hand around, tried to grab her arm, but he couldn't reach.
He began to splutter as she choked the life out of him.
It didn't last.
Admiral Forest strode forward. “End the simulation now.”
Sora pushed off his back and stood quietly, her hands now loose by her sides.
It took him a few seconds to regain his breath, his senses, too.
That fight had been breakneck.
Sora hadn't stopped.
For anything.
She'd been relentless.
And yes, as he pushed to his feet and locked his enquiring gaze on her helmet, he could appreciate tha
t she was no ordinary hologram.
He stared at her warily, his chest punching in and out until his breath settled.
One of the traders strode forward and stared up at the Admiral. “Like demonstration? Satisfied with product?”
The Admiral appeared to ignore the trader as she stared at Karax instead. “What are your impressions, Lieutenant?”
“That, that was... one hell of a fight.” He tentatively touched his neck, prying fingers searching for bruises.
“It wasn't a fair fight,” one of the officers in the room pointed out. “She was wearing full armor. What's the point of this simulation if we can't program it to match the skill level of our students?”
“She was wearing armor, but it is nothing more than metal plating. She is programmed to be easily defeated,” the trader explained.
Karax couldn't help but laugh as he dropped his hand from his neck. “That didn't feel like easily defeatable to me.”
“This is Sora's lowest setting. You can use her in multiple ways and in multiple scenarios. With time, you will become better at fighting her, but she will also adapt to your methods. This is what you want, no?” The trader fixed his attention on the Admiral. “A program that will help you train like the Ornax? Train, regardless of whether you know you will lose?”
There was silence as everyone present considered the trader's words.
Finally, the Admiral nodded. “Yes, that's what we're after. Thank you for this initial demonstration, but we will require more before we agree to procure this product. We must also assess whether it is compatible with current Coalition holographic technology.”
Both traders nodded. “Then let the discussions begin.”
The traders were led into another room by the group of officers, as Admiral Forest hung back to hear Karax's assessment.
As soon as the doors closed and they were alone, she rounded on him.
She crossed her arms in front of her chest and nodded at his neck. “Was that real, Lieutenant? Or were you holding back?”
He didn't even have to consider her question. He shook his head. He coughed past his raspy throat. “Hell no, Admiral. She almost crushed my throat.”
“What's your initial assessment?”
Again, Karax didn't have to pause. “That the traders are right – that hologram was definitely different to any I've ever fought before. It's not just the fact she's seamless and solid, indistinguishable from a person, it's how she thinks. There was true intelligence behind her moves. You could tell she was adapting to the way I fought. Heck, I felt I could even see it in her eyes.”
“You couldn't see her eyes, Lieutenant,” the Admiral corrected. “She had a helmet on.”
“I can't put my finger on it, Admiral, but there was definitely something there.”
“I agree. Though I wasn't the one fighting this Sora, my observations concur with yours. This doesn't mean I'm ready to commit the Academy to acquiring this technology yet. But it's a step in the right direction.”
He began nodding but stopped. “Aren't you worried about any security implications?”
She lifted an eyebrow. “Security implications?”
“Do you really want to give a couple of Corthanx Traders free access to our holo emitters?”
“That was never on the cards, Lieutenant. They will be supervised wherever they go. However, if your initial experience and my observations are correct, this is not a technology we can pass up. It would revolutionize our ability to train and properly prepare our cadets. It will show them not just how to win, but how to survive.”
Her exact choice of words shook through him. It took a lot of effort not to visibly shudder.
He stiffened his neck and nodded. “What next, then, Admiral?”
“Next, I continue discussions with the traders. I want you to begin work on devising a training program that can put Sora through her paces. You may have to work into the night. I want this in place for tomorrow.”
He began to nod but hesitated.
She picked up on it. “What is it, Lieutenant?”
“... Never mind.” For a moment – for a single moment – he'd been about to ask the Admiral for an hour's reprieve to go and check on Sarah Sinclair.
Which was mad.
He'd done what he was obliged to do – pull her aside and have a serious conversation with her. The rest was up to her.
... Right?
He shook his head as he pushed away his last questioning thought. “I won't stop until I complete the training program.”
“I'm glad I have someone to rely on. Alright, Lieutenant, dismissed.” She snapped a salute, turned on her heel, and marched out the doors.
As soon as she left, Karax found his gaze tugging instinctively back to the view beyond the plate glass windows.
It didn't take him long to spy Sarah's apartment block.
As soon as he realized what he was doing, he cursed under his breath and headed for the doors.
...
Cadet Sarah Sinclair
She felt like someone was walking over her grave.
She was walking, half in a daze, through the halls of the main training building.
She knew she had to get to class.
She couldn't.
Nothing could distract her from the unholy sensation climbing her back as if spiders had somehow slipped underneath her skin.
She kept shivering and had now wrapped her arms around her middle so tightly she could barely breathe.
Though she was clearly in a state, almost everyone ignored her.
Even Nora ignored her, glancing at her once, dropping her gaze, and walking away with another group of friends.
Cadets darted around her, rushing to class, staff marched back and forth, dutifully and quickly heading to whatever tasks they had to do.
And in the middle stood Sarah.
She felt completely alone. She was in a crowd of people, and yet her mind was telling her she was back in the abandoned ice shaft.
Her symptoms weren't usually as bad as this. Most of the time she could discern reality from her dreamlike state.
But today... today it felt like someone was walking over her grave.
Reason told her to stop heading to class, and rather turn around and seek out medical attention.
Reason would be wrong.
If she went to the med bay again, not only would they bark at her that she was wasting their time, but it would be yet another demerit point against her rapidly falling record.
So the smartest thing to do would be to turn around and head back to her room. To wait this out, whatever it was, to fall asleep until her dreams gave way to nothingness and her mind finally rested.
She'd been taking a few noncommittal steps forward toward her class. But she stopped.
She let her gaze slip forward.
She considered the open doors to the classroom once more.
Then she turned from them.
She began walking resolutely in the other direction.
With every step, it felt more and more right.
Until she turned around a corner and slammed right into someone.
Karax.
Strangely, she almost knocked him off balance, and he had to teeter back a few steps to regain his footing.
Their gazes met.
You wouldn't need to be a genius to realize Sarah was shirking class. Karax knew her classmates – he would know she should be walking with them into the open classroom, not away from it.
Though she was sprung, and knew she should mutter a quick sorry, turn, and duck into class, she didn't.
She held Karax's gaze for a few more seconds, dropped it, and shifted around him.
He made a noncommittal move to get in her way but appeared to think better of it, turned, and shifted past her.
She inclined her neck to stare at him as they walked past each other.
... He shot her a look. Not a judgmental one. Not even a disappointed one.
He—
&nb
sp; Sarah walked smack bang into Lieutenant Morq.
Lieutenant Morq was taking her next class. And she knocked him flat on his ass.
...
Lieutenant Karax
Morq went down like a ton of bricks.
He spluttered with surprise but snapped up to his feet.
His race prided themselves on their strength, and he'd just been knocked flat by a cadet.
Morq looked mortified.
“Sorry, sir,” Sarah said immediately.
“What were you doing stalking through the corridors, cadet?” Morq snapped.
“I apologize, sir, but I wasn't stalking through the corridors. Unfortunately, I wasn't looking where I was going—”
“What exactly were you doing walking away from my class, anyway?” Morq challenged.
All eyes were on Sarah.
It would be relatively easy for her to come up with an excuse, apologize again, and walk back to class.
Sarah paused.
Karax's stomach sank.
Sure, he didn't know her that well, but he sure as hell knew what she was going to do next.
She'd been pushed too far today.
Before he could clear his throat, distract her, or pull Morq away, Sarah did it—
“I was heading back to my room, sir,” she said with a straight face. Though if you looked, you'd appreciate her expression wasn't exactly blank – there was a hollowed out, dead look playing in her gaze.
Morq spluttered. “You don't have permission to drop class today—” He drew up his WD to double check.
He needn't have bothered.
“No, I don't,” Sarah said.
Morq's surprise quickly gave way to anger. “What exactly are you saying, cadet?”
“I'm saying that I'm planning on cutting class, Lieutenant.”
Karax sucked a breath through his teeth. “Ah, maybe we should just—”
They both ignored him.
“Get to class, cadet,” Morq warned.
Sarah didn't move a muscle.
Lieutenant Morq locked his stony gaze on Sarah. “I'll give you one more chance to turn around and head to class, cadet.”
Sarah didn't move. Sarah stood there. Slowly tilting her head back until she tore her gaze from the floor and stared at the Lieutenant.
“Move now, cadet,” he said through stiff lips.
They were starting to draw a crowd.
A whole class full of cadets had emptied out onto the corridor. One cadet who he recognized as Sarah's friend wouldn't even look at Sarah. She shifted to the back of the crowd.
It was one thing to be reprimanded on your own, another to be punished in front of your classmates.
With that half dead expression dragging down her cheeks Sarah didn't move a muscle. “I don't feel like class today,” she said directly.
She didn't mollify her tone, and once her insubordinate words were out, she made no attempt to retract them.
This morning she'd stumbled over herself in her attempt to retract a potentially insubordinate statement.
Now she stared back at Lieutenant Morq, expression completely free from guilt.
She looked as if she just didn't care anymore.
This was where a smart Lieutenant would back down, pull the cadet to the side, and try to ascertain what the hell was going on.
Morq was stuck, though.
There was a class full of witnesses. Of Sarah's contemporaries, no less. Morq would have to make an example of her. He couldn't let the other cadets perceive that he was letting Sarah go without reprimand.
“Cadet, you are way out of line. Retract that statement. As a recruit in the Galactic Coalition, you have a duty to our cause and your classmates.”
If Morq's snapped words were intended to have an effect on Sarah, they didn't.
She stared back at him impassively. “And what duty, sir, do you have toward me?”
Morq was clearly thrown. You could see he was thrown – a blue blush sparked up his cheeks, a telling and impossible-to-ignore sign for his race. “Cadet, you are way out of line—”
Sarah abruptly turned and began walking away from Morq and the class.
Morq spluttered. “What are you doing?”
This was escalating.
It was time to step in.
Literally.
Karax stepped in front of her and stared her down.
She drew to a halt and slowly ticked her head back until she stared at him.
“Cadet, get to my office, now,” he said. Though it was an order, it wasn't snapped. He deliberately tried to keep his tone even, neutral.
To be honest, he wasn't giving Sarah a reprimand – that would come later, when she'd had a chance to calm down.
The only thing he wanted to do was get her away from here, away from the prying, judgmental gazes of her classmates.
It didn't work.
As he looked down into Sarah's gaze, he saw something crack. Any chance of ending this quietly cracked with it.
“Cadet, just head to my office,” he said, and there was a pleading note in his voice.
“Why, so you can kick me out of the Academy quietly?”
“Nobody is talking about kicking you out of the Academy,” he dropped his tone in warning.
“Really? You're thinking it, though, aren't you?”
He ground his teeth together. He'd thought he could jump in and de-escalate the situation, but he'd made it worse.
She didn't drop her gaze as she stared at him. It became so intense, it was almost like she was another person. That fragile side to Sarah Sinclair dropped away, and that hardened edge returned – the one he'd seen when she'd woken up from her dream. Staring at that Sarah Sinclair was like trying to walk through a supernova. “Cadet, lower your tone.”
“Why? Worried about making a scene? We are already making one. If you cared about keeping this quiet, you should have let me go before.”
He couldn't unclench his jaw. “Cadet—”
“Just admit it, you've all been looking for a reason to kick me out. You think I don't deserve to be here, do you?” She looked right into his eyes.
There was no denying that the question was meant for him.
“You don't think I have what it takes to survive,” her voice croaked, “To save other people. Do you?”
He couldn't back down. He couldn't lie, either. “No, I don't.”
Maybe he should have mollified his words, begged her once more to head quietly to his office.
He didn't.
Because despite his growing compassion for Sarah Sinclair, she was right – deep down, he didn't think she belonged here.
She nodded stiffly. “I guess that makes our decision for us, doesn't it? Goodbye.” She shifted past him.
He reached out a hand to stop her, but she darted away from him.
He shifted hard on his foot. “What the hell are you doing?”
“Quitting the Academy,” she said without a hint of regret.
“Cadet—” he tried.
It was too late, she was already out of sight.
...
Sarah Sinclair
She... she didn't feel anything as she strode away from him, as she strode away from her fellow students, from Nora, from her career.
No regret, no shame, just a sense that she had to get free, that she had to get away from this place. That if only she put some distance between her and the Academy grounds, she'd stop feeling as if someone was walking over her grave.
She began to cool down as soon as she exited the building and reached the grounds.
It didn't change her resolve. She'd quit the Academy, and nothing was going to change that decision.
She didn't hesitate. She marched straight to her room, cleaned it out, neatly folded her uniforms, and packed up her other standard issue gear.
She left them arranged on the table in the main room.
She paused as she stared at her WD and her gaze sliced toward the collar of her uniform.
&n
bsp; The tiniest flicker of regret crossed through her, but she pushed it away.
She gathered together her bags and walked out the door.
Rather than walk toward the primary lift bank at the far end of the corridor, she deliberately headed for the stairs.
A good decision. As she neared them, she twisted her head and saw two security officers exit the lifts and march toward her room.
They didn't notice her as she turned and walked down the stairs.
She doubted they were here to get her in trouble. Sure, she'd sassed a few lieutenants, but she hadn't committed any crimes.
Maybe they were here to give her a second chance.
She didn't want one.
She was done with the Academy.
So she walked down the stairs and walked away.
...
Lieutenant Karax
By that night, there was only one thing he could think of. And no, it wasn't the training session he'd been charged with designing.
It was Cadet Sinclair.
He hadn't had the chance to go after her following the incident. He'd been called away.
He'd reasoned he'd be the last person she'd want to see, anyway.
But now... now he couldn't get her out of his mind.
He was heading to her apartment.
He didn't know what he was doing. Shouldn't be here. Every scrap of reason he had left told him to turn around, but it wasn't enough.
He strode through the corridors of the secondary accommodation block.
Even made it all the way up to her apartment before hesitating.
Christ, he really shouldn't be here. He was the reason she'd left, and yet....
Before he could stop himself, he reached out a hand and pressed it against the intercom button on the panel by the door.
He had to wait a few agonizing seconds before somebody answered.
“Who's there?” A light female voice intoned.
“Is that Cadet Sinclair?” he asked, realizing too late it wasn't her.
There was a certain strength behind Sarah Sinclair's words – even if half the time they wavered with fragility. There was something else behind them, this steady constant that reminded you of a rock holding up a mountain.
“No, it's Cadet Nora Falcone. Who is this?”
Now was when he should turn away. Mutter something about the fact he had the wrong room,and get out of here while he still had his pride.
He ignored his pride, kept his finger pressed into the intercom button, and cleared his throat. “This is Lieutenant Karax. Is Cadet Sinclair there?”
There was a lengthy pause at the other end of the line.
Karax knew he had a reputation around the Academy, especially with the cadets. A deserved reputation. He was hard on them, deliberately brutal so their training would prepare them for reality. If that meant they were all terrified of him, so be it.
Even as he thought that, he realized it was poles apart from the entire premise of him coming here.
The hardened, stiff-lipped Lieutenant Karax wasn't the kind of guy to come groveling at a cadet's feet for forgiveness.
But did he turn away?
No.
The door opened.
He recognized the cadet standing behind it, if only because he'd seen her with Sarah a few times.
He'd also seen her deliberately withdraw from Sarah over the past several months. Only this morning he'd seen her ignore Sarah on her way to the training ground.
Now the same cadet crossed her arms and stared at him, her anger barely controlled. “If you're here to make sure Sarah leaves the grounds, it doesn't matter, she's already gone.”
“She has?” Disappointment sank through his gut faster than a stone in freefall.
She crossed her arms tighter, the move scrunching the smooth fabric of her regulation uniform. “She didn't even wait around for me to finish class,” Nora said with a grimace.
She darted her gaze to the side and locked it on the wall, not looking his way.
He'd seen this Cadet Nora earlier today when Sarah had quit the Academy. She hadn't even looked Sarah's way, hadn't even acknowledged what her friend was going through.
And now she appeared to be blaming him for everything.
He was already on edge, but this tipped him over the precipice. “Is there something on your mind, cadet?”
An ordinary cadet in an ordinary situation would have taken heed of his tone and muttered a quick, “No.”
Nora flashed her gaze back to him. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
“Permission granted.”
“She didn't deserve that. She was trying hard to change. You pushed too hard today,” her voice cracked, “She didn't deserve for that to happen so publicly.”
If Karax allowed himself to go with the anger crackling through his gut, he would take the opportunity to point out Nora was a hypocrite. It was all too easy to get angry at him when she herself had ignored Sarah entirely.
Though Karax wasn't known for his tact, he did possess it, and with one look at Nora's tortured expression, he chose to use it. He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze. “It is unfortunate that the cadet quit in that way. However, do you know when she left?”
“What do you want her for? She already left a message saying she's attended to all official matters. She's cleaned her room, too. There's nothing left,” Nora's voice became small, “She didn't even leave any contact details.”
Karax's mouth was open, and he'd just been about to ask how he could contact Sarah.
He stopped.
Nora jerked her distracted gaze off the floor and settled it on him. “What do you want her for, anyway?” she repeated.
This was where a smart man, a smart Lieutenant, would stay quiet. He should press his lips closed, nod goodbye, and walk away. Instead, he took a breath. “I'm here, because I wanted to apologize to her.”
At first, Nora looked at him as if she thought he was joking.
When he held her gaze and didn't break into laughter, she stared at him in complete confusion. “What? But you're the one who told her she shouldn't be here.”
His stomach sank with guilt.
Now that image of Sarah thrashing on the floor by his feet was joined by another – the way she'd looked at him as she'd walked from the hall.
Both competed for permanent residency in the back of his mind.
He swallowed, the move hard as he fought against his suddenly dry throat. “I'm not backing down on my decision. I still think it's best that Sarah leaves the Academy. But it could have...” he dropped his gaze to the floor, “Should have,” he put more force into his words as he jerked his gaze up, “Gone differently. You're absolutely right, she didn't deserve to leave like that, with no one at her side and no one to defend her.” His comment was pointed, and it wasn't lost on the cadet.
She took an uncomfortable breath and looked as if she'd swallowed something bitter.
She shifted backward and clenched her jaw. “Well none of that matters now, does it? Because she's gone, and she hasn't left any contact information.”
“Maybe there's something in her file,” he commented, mostly for himself.
Nora's eyes suddenly widened, and she took a step forward. “Do you think there could be?”
He paused as he stared at her, assessing her.
Though a part of him wanted to write her off for what she'd done to Sarah, the rest understood where she was coming from.
“If I manage to obtain her contact details, would you like me to forward them to you, cadet?”
“If you could, sir I...” her eyes jerked open even wider, “I'd appreciate that,” she added weakly.
“I'll see what I can do.” He turned to leave but stopped.
He shifted over his shoulder to look at Nora. “Do you think Sarah will be okay on her own?” His question came from nowhere.
Nora didn't hesitate. She pressed her lips closed and shook her head. “No,” she said in a quiet tone. “No, I
don't think she will.”
There was something about the quiet certainty behind Nora's words that sent cold dread marching up his spine.
Again he swallowed, but this time it was one of the most uncomfortable moves he'd ever made.
A spark of panic ignited in his gut. “... The Academy medical staff would not have allowed her to leave campus without a medical plan in place,” he suddenly said, not for Nora's benefit, but for his own.
He had to quash the tide of guilt rising through his gut somehow.
His weak promise, however, wasn't enough.
Nora looked him right in the eyes. “Do you really believe that, Lieutenant?”
Nerves traced over his cheeks as a cold feeling pushed hard into his chest. He forced a nod, but it was a weak move. Anyone with half an ounce of sense would know he was lying.
Finally, he followed through with common sense, nodded at the cadet, said a curt goodbye, and left the room.
As soon as the doors swished closed behind him, he stopped and drove his eyes shut. He squeezed them until he felt the skin around them was so tight it could crack.
Bringing a hand up and pressing it over the bridge of his nose, he let out a sharp sigh and pushed forward.
He didn't make it far until his WD beeped.
It was the Admiral, and he was being called back to training.
He never shirked his duty.
Never. It was the only thing that could hold back the guilt he felt for not being able to protect his family on the colony worlds.
But right now, for the first time ever, he considered asking the Admiral for a reprieve.
The only thing he wanted to do right now was find out where Sarah Sinclair had gone.
If he didn't find her and apologize, he knew he'd stew over this for months, if not years.
But the Admiral wouldn't take no for an answer, and soon he found himself powering down the corridor, heading back to Sora.
As soon as he thought about her, his hackles rose and a distinct cold pressure welled in the center of his chest.
If he'd had the time and the presence of mind, he would have realized it was a sense of foreboding.
A justified one.
For Lieutenant Karax was wrong – Earth, despite her defenses, was no longer the safest place in the Milky Way.