Chapter 7
Cadet Nida Harper
She sat on the edge of her bed, pressing her fingers into her ribs.
They'd been fixed, but they still tingled.
Unpleasantly.
In fact, her whole body vibrated with pins and needles.
Pressing her lips together, she indulged in a groan.
Wow, hadn't today been one for the books.
She was usually unlucky, but this was extreme, even for her.
Not only had she overslept again, only to fall asleep under a tree rather than getting to class, but she'd also been knocked out in the training center.
At least that hadn't been her fault, though.
It had been an accident. One that no one was able to explain to her. Nobody had made that block go scooting across the training center to wallop her on the chest, so the prevailing theory was that the block itself had malfunctioned.
She'd never heard of TI blocks malfunctioning, but she wasn't exactly the most knowledgeable cadet out there.
Pushing herself up, she let out a breath, being careful not to extend her chest out too much as she did.
Though her muscles didn't ache, it felt weird to move them.
Because every damn thing felt weird.
Again, for about the millionth time, she brought up her left hand and stared at it.
She was still dimly aware of the terrible dream she'd had under the oak tree that morning. But it was fading.
She could recall that writhing blue energy biting its way into her palm and fingers, though, and it made her shudder.
"Come on," she told herself through gritted teeth, "you have to do your assignments."
She couldn't put them off any longer. She was getting further and further behind. What was worse, she'd missed all afternoon due to her injury.
She slowly slouched over to her desk, neatened what she could, then stuck her tongue out as she considered the display on the hovering holographic computer screen. It sat about several centimeters above her desk, tipped at an angle so she could see it properly. Right now it displayed an enormous list of stuff she had to catch up on.
She tried closing her eyes, but when she opened them, the assignments hadn't disappeared.
The last thing she wanted to do right now was work. She would prefer to make herself an enormous bowl of ramen and fold up on the couch watching holo movies. She couldn't, though. She had to catch up.
So she sucked in a breath, stiffened her back, forced her chin to jut out, and got to work.
She did what she could, keeping the boring tasks until last.
And the boring tasks were always the same for her.
TI practice.
Ah, she hated it.
No matter how hard she tried, she never progressed. Everyone - including Sharpe - believed that with just enough sweat and tears, anyone could master their implant. Well, she'd sweated and she'd cried, but she was still at the bottom of the pile.
She stood up, marching over to her bedside table and picking up the tiny, itty-bitty TI cube she was meant to use for practice.
Fresh new cadets learned to master the use of this itty-bitty cube in their first week.
She still had trouble lifting it out of its case.
Sitting roughly on her bed, she shot the cube a merciless glare as it sat there, offending her by its mere existence.
Contrary to popular belief, Nida was not lazy. She tried her hardest. It just so happened that her hardest was never good enough.
She hadn't given up yet. And that was something. But it was still seriously demoralizing every time she had to face her utter incompetence with the use of her TI.
"Okay," she breathed dramatically, tipping her head back and rolling her eyes at the ceiling as if it agreed with her that all TI blocks were lame. "Come on," she reached forward and pressed the button that would disengage the TI block from its pedestal.
There was a slight beep then a flash of yellow light.
Yellow light.
She knew it was yellow.
Yet for a heart pounding instant, she thought it was blue.
She blinked, even pressing her fingers into her closed eyelids. "What the hell is wrong with you?" she muttered, winking one eye open to confirm the light was most certainly yellow.
"You're tired, you're stressed, and you spent the afternoon being coaxed back from death," she answered her own question. And it was a pretty good answer. There was nothing wrong with her, other than that which she'd already stated.
Feeling relieved at that conclusion, she leaned forward and spread the fingers of her right palm over the top of the TI block. Her hand hovered several centimeters above the block, and with a commanding thought, she tried to force the block to jump up into her grip.
It didn't work.
It never worked.
But before she could give up and flop back down, something incredible happened.
The block began to spin.
Fast.
Blindingly fast.
In fact, the force of it rattled the bedside table.
"What the??" she began, pushing herself back on her bed.
Then the block shot toward her.
She had just enough time to push her hand out to grab it before it slammed into her chest.
Then she held it.
Surprise slackened her jaw.
Had she just??moved the block on her own?
She slowly brought her palm out, opened the fingers, and stared at the little cube.
With a gulp, she set it back on her bedside table, then she pushed her hand out again. With a silent command, she imagined the block jumping up and flying into her grip.
It did.
Fast.
In fact, the speed of it threw her backward until she banged against the wall behind her bed.
"What?" she gasped, staring at the block tightly clasped in her fist.
Then she offered a quick, nervous laugh.
She tried it again.
She set the block down, she commanded it to come to her, then it came.
And the more she tried it, the quicker it came to her until she had to stop. Pain stabbed through her arm and hand from catching the speeding block, but she paid no attention to it.
Instead, she jumped to her feet, and she laughed.
Happily.
Wow. She'd done it.
She'd mastered the training block.
It had only taken her years and years of practice. But right now, that little fact didn't matter. Nida let out a relieved laugh and skipped around the room.
She had to show somebody.
She had to prove to someone else at the Academy what she'd just been able to do. Otherwise she wouldn't believe it herself.
With another happy little laugh, she opened her door and practically danced out into the living room.
She expected to see Alicia there, eating in front of the TV, looking bored as usual.
She didn't.
Instead, she glanced over to see two men sitting on her couch.
She'd seen one off the Academy bulletins, and she knew the other personally.
Lieutenant Carson Blake.
In her apartment. Sitting on her sofa. Staring at her TV.
?.
What the hell?
He looked up, and so did the man beside him, Lieutenant Travis.
They both appeared surprised, and she quickly realized she was in nothing more than a pair of flimsy black shorts and a singlet.
"Ah??what are you doing here?" she squeaked as she positioned herself behind the kitchen bench.
Blake actually looked flushed, but his friend just shrugged his shoulders. "Your flatmate Alicia is in her room. We're just waiting for her."
"Oh," Nida muttered, quickly realizing that Travis and Blake were clearly the two lieutenants Alicia had mentioned last night.
What with one thing and another, Nida had completely forgotten Alicia had invited guests around. "Ah, right," she managed, turning around t
o head back to her room.
She realized she was being rude, but she didn't care. She just wanted to get back into her room before she blushed an even more incandescent shade of blue.
No, red.
She meant red.
God dammit, blue was on her brain.
As she shook her head to dislodge the thought, Blake got to his feet.
"How are you?" he asked quickly. "I didn't get a chance to see you after the accident." He looked genuinely concerned, and as he crossed from the lounge toward the open kitchen, he appeared to assess her for any sign of injury.
Which was kind of embarrassing considering she was still in her pajamas.
"What?" she asked stupidly as she tried to hide behind the bench.
"You're accident," he said slowly as if he were talking to a child, "in the training center. The block." His eyebrows knit together as he took a swallow.
"Oh, that? It's fine." She flopped a hand at him.
As she did, a small drop of blood flew from her palm and landed on the clean white bench before her.
"Hey, are you cut?" Blake took several sharp steps up to her side.
"No," she answered automatically, then brought her hand up to stare at it.
It was bruised, cut, and blood was dripping down her palm and fingers.
?.
The cube.
Jesus.
Every time she'd caught the training block, it had been moving with such force, it had lacerated her hand.
Yet??she hadn't noticed.
The excitement of being able to move the cube had somehow blocked out the pain of injuring her hand.
"Um," she managed dumbly as she continued to stare at her palm.
Looking up to see Blake's clear shock, she quickly cleared her throat, closed her hand into a fist, and nodded. "Um yeah," she managed. "Just a little. It's fine," she added.
He was looking at her askance as if she were mad. "That looks pretty bad."
"It's fine," she squeaked.
"How did you do it?" he kept trying to shift around the bench to get a closer look at her, but she wouldn't let him. She just ducked further around the bench to keep her threadbare shorts from view.
"Ah??fell over?" she tried, knowing her questioning tone was unconvincing.
Before Blake could call her bluff, the main doors opened, and Alicia's friend Bridget walked in.
She gave Nida a pointed look.
It was time for Nida to make a discreet exit before she could get in any trouble.
"Right," she squeaked, "enjoy your date." With that, she turned and practically threw herself at her door.
Once she was through it and it closed behind her, she leaned there, shaking her head as she did.
"Oh??oh, that was just??perfect," she managed sarcastically.
Carson Blake of all people had been in her living room. What was worse, she'd acted like a complete idiot by not realizing she'd cut herself.
With a heavy swallow, she brought up her right hand and stared at it.
It was badly bruised now. She could see the familiar mottled pattern of purple, black, and murky red.
The bleeding was slowing at least.
She took a breath as she poked her injuries with her good hand.
They didn't??hurt. Not like they should. A dull ache radiated from them, sending a mild cold sensation pushing through her wrist, but that was it.
She'd bruised herself before, and she'd cut herself - multiple times - and it never felt like this.
It was almost as if her brain was preoccupied with something else. Like her central nervous system was too busy processing the tingles burrowing into her flesh to bother with the pain from her latest injury.
She grated her teeth back and forth, still poking at the bruise, then she pushed up from the door and stared over at her computer.
She wondered whether she should try to contact one of her doctors, just to let them know what was happening to her??in case it was serious. But with a sigh, she realized there was no point. They'd already checked her over thoroughly, and she had a reputation for being a walking accident - one she didn't want to keep adding to.
Still, as she turned her attention back to her hand, she decided she would definitely see someone in the morning if her weird symptoms persisted. Right now, however, she would have to bandage her hand.
She walked over to her bedside table, grabbing a top from it and holding it tight against her bleeding hand.
Then she glanced at the training block.
She'd placed it back in the cradle once she'd finished practicing with it.
It sat there, locked in place by several strong metal clamps.
She felt sick as she looked at it.
In fact, horrible nausea started to lift through her, making her shiver and sweat.
As she stared at the training block, she swore she saw the yellow light on the cradle flash to blue.
Then the intercom on her door beeped.
She jumped, letting out a yelp.
"Ah, Harper?" someone asked hesitantly.
It was Carson.
She was thankful for the soundproof walls. She didn't need him thinking she was any more pathetic than he already did.
"Harper?" he tried again. "Are you alright?"
She clenched her teeth and sucked a breath through them.
She shook her head.
She was starting to realize that just maybe she wasn't alright.
She couldn't feel her hand. The pain??it just wasn't there.
And those flashes of blue?.
She shook her head again, the move sharp and desperate.
"Harper?" Carson asked once more.
She stood up.
She had to go back to the medical bay. Okay, so the doctors would likely tell her she was just being a hypochondriac, but she had to check.
She walked to the door.
Alicia and Bridget would kill her for coming out and interrupting their pre-date, or whatever it was, but Nida didn't have a choice.
Plus, if Alicia didn't kill her, this cold, stone-like sensation would.
Reaching for the door, Nida was about to open it before she realized she was still half dressed.
"Woops," she mumbled to herself as she cast around for her clothes.
She walked over to where she'd dumped her uniform.
She didn't reach it.
"Harper?" Carson tried once more. "Seriously, are you alright in there?"
There was a crack.
A loud one.
She had just a second to look up as she saw the training block tear from its cradle.
It shot toward her.
She stumbled backward, throwing herself at the wall and pushing out her hand to catch the block.
She managed to catch it, but the force of it bowling into her served to slam her against the door.
It also broke her wrist.
She could hear it, but she couldn't feel it.
Then the block kept on moving.
Though she'd caught it, it didn't stop.
It twisted in her grip, flinging her with it as it smashed into the door. Her knuckles slammed against the unyielding metal of the door frame, and she screamed in horror as blood splattered from them.
She still couldn't feel it, though.
And the block still didn't stop moving.
Yet no matter how hard she tried to let it go, she couldn't.
It felt as if her fingers had turned to stone.