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Still,
the small cruisers and reconnaissance vessels that were currently
housed in this building were impressive enough.

In
fact, one of them in particular caught his eye as he stared across
the expansive, glistening, white metal floor in front of
him.

There
was a sleek-looking, blue and black cruiser about the size of a
house, but narrower and with a long, almost elegant, pointed
nose.

It
took him a moment to recognise the design, and he quickly realised
it was one of the Academy’s newest and most experimental of ships.
It was fast, it was powerful, and as an engineer gestured towards
it, Carson realised it was his.

He
swallowed his shock as the engineer marched up and told him he
could now take off.

When
Admiral Forest had given Carson the go-ahead to return to Remus 12,
he had assumed she'd done so only out of loyalty, not because she
genuinely thought it was a good idea. Yet as he stared at the
experimental vessel she had chosen for him, he had to reassess his
assumption.

“She
is called the Farsight,” the engineer said as he scratched
grease-covered fingers over his stubble-rayed chin.

“Damn,” Carson couldn’t keep the surprise from his
tone.

“Yeah,
I know, right? Beautiful, but that being said, don’t scratch it,”
the engineer grumbled. “The controls are easy enough; the same as
all Academy light cruisers. This one is armed to the teeth though.
So if you get in a fight, remember that. It’s a pretty big vessel
for one person, but the Admiral told me you’re going on your own,
so be sure to set the computer to automate all engine and systems
maintenance,” the guy continued.

Carson
nodded his head, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the vessel. It
wasn’t just that it was an objectively incredible sight, and
clearly the pinnacle of current Coalition technology. Oh no, what
commanded his attention was what it meant.

. . . .

Why
the hell was Forest giving him this ship? Especially when she
thought he was going on a useless mission.

Something wasn’t right here, but he didn’t have the luxury of
time to try to find out what it was. Instead, he snapped a salute
at the engineer, then walked across the cavernous, echoing room
towards his vessel.

The
closer he got, the tighter a knot formed in his stomach, until he
finally reached the vessel, and it felt as though he would double
over from the nerves welling within him.

He
kept walking though, and finally reached the open hangar door at
the back of the ship. Walking up the reverberating ramp, he was
struck by how sleek everything was inside. It was composed of
smooth, elegant lines and forms, and everything was coloured in
shades of clean white, shiny silver, and matte black.

Once
he made it into the belly of the vessel, he walked over to the
nearest lit up panel, and he pressed several buttons in sequence,
causing the hangar door to close. It didn’t creak and nor did the
ship shudder; everything moved smoothly and with perfect
precision.

Realising he could hardly stand there and stare boggled eyed
at this marvellous technology, he quickly whirled on his foot,
headed out of the hangar bay, and into the rest of the
ship.

He
briefly toured the major rooms: the compact engineering bay, the
small but well-serviced galley, the main quarters, and the bridge.
Feeling satisfied that everything was in order, he finally sat down
in the captain’s seat. Then, with several brief commands to the
computer, the ship hummed into life. It didn’t roar or rumble like
a Coalition heavy cruiser; the sound of the engines as they pulsed
into life barely registered.

Offering a brief smile at how incredible this ship was, he
settled into the back of his seat and watched the view screen as
the cruiser took off.

It was
so automated that he didn’t have to offer the computer another
single command; the ship simply followed a set exit protocol, and
flew itself out of the narrow aperture of the Academy main dock. It
shot into the air, and as it burst free from the open-ceiling,
swathes of blue sky and white cloud surrounded it. With a single
blink, the view of the city transformed from an enormous,
sprawling, well-lit metropolis, to nothing but a dot on the edge of
a continent. The ship moved that fast.

Carson
chuckled to himself, then with a swallow, he realised how serious
the situation was, and he stiffened his smile into a frown. “Come
on,” he said under his breath, begging the universe for some
much-needed luck, “come on,” he repeated one last time.

Then
he settled back and he waited. He did what he could, running
through the ship’s diagnostics to confirm that everything was
working. Then he double-checked the navigation coordinates, to
ensure he was on track for Remus 12.

Then . . . well, he kicked his shoes off,
closed his eyes, and fell asleep.

There
was nothing more to be done.

Soon
he would reach his destination, and he knew he should take the
opportunity to rest now.

But
rest he would not, for though Carson did not appreciate it, at that
moment, a surprise was headed his way.

Cadet
Nida Harper, to be specific.

Cadet
Nida Harper

She
could not sleep.

Neither could she talk.

In
fact, she could barely think.

Because something was happening to her. Something
terrible.

The
pain in her chest kept building and building, and as she stared
down at her hand, with a surge of incapacitating terror she saw
blue tendrils of energy driving under her skin.

She
tried to bat at it, tried to grab it and pull it from her veins,
but it was too insubstantial to touch. Yet she could feel it as it
wiggled its way through her flesh.

She
wanted to cry out, she wanted to scream and tell the doctors what
was happening to her, but she couldn’t move her lips. They were
numb. No, worse than numb—they felt as stiff as the carved mouth of
a statue.

That
particular image stuck in her mind, and could not be dislodged even
as another surge of panic washed over her.

She
was still in the same cavernous hospital room, and the doctors were
still trying, apparently, to stabilise the stasis force field that
enshrouded her.

Occasionally she watched the flickering orange and blue light,
but now the only light that held her attention was that which had
invaded her bloodstream.

The
doctors no longer seemed to pay much attention to her; they had
grown used to the fact they could not calm her down, and now barely
glanced up every time she tried to scrape the luminescent blue
energy from her body.

No
matter how many drugs the robotic arm injected into her neck, they
had no effect. She would feel their cool rush as they entered her
body, but the tingles from the blue energy would soon surround and
obliterate the drug.

With
every passing second, a sense of desperation grew within. Doom and
malaise and terror pressed in on her, reminding her exactly of how
the rubble of that planet had swirled and pitched and circled
around her crumpled body.

She
tried to beg for help, but again she couldn’t move her lips, and
neither could she force her voice to ring aloud. All she could do
was beg over and over again in the confines of her mind.

It was
truly horrifying, agonising even, terrifying on a level she had
never experienced before. And with every passing moment, it grew
until she felt she would break, the fear carving her in
half.

She
could no longer listen to the scientists as they muttered and
debated how to strengthen the field. All she could do was lie there
and ride it out.

Just
as it seemed as if she could take no more, something
happened.

Her
body calmed, her limbs drawing still as a last, small jerk passed
through them.

Before
she could wonder whether the robotic arm had just injected a far
more powerful drug into her body, something happened to her mind.
It began to fill with this warm, comforting presence.

As it
did, she was immediately reminded of a sight she had once seen. A
beautiful statue of a smiling woman with a long dress and stunning
hair carved in flowing lines around her.

It was
the smile more than anything—the remembered angle of the lips and
the compassionate edge to the statue's gaze—that finally calmed
Nida enough to stop trying to tear the blue energy from her
veins.

That
presence filled her mind. It built and built, expanding into every
crack of fear that had broken her will, until the anxiety lost all
hold of her.

“We
must return home,” the presence spoke. Though it had no voice,
somehow its meaning and intent solidified in Nida’s
mind.

Home.

They
had to return home.

To the
barren wasteland of the world the humans and Coalition referred to
as Remus 12.

Nida
concentrated on that fact, and she let that glowing, warm presence
calm her.

“We
cannot stay here any longer; we will corrupt, we will destroy,” the
presence said, again its voice little more than solidified
thought.

Nida
had to struggle to understand the words; she was losing all sense
of herself, and could barely concentrate for more than several
seconds at a time.

But
slowly she understood.

Slowly
the pieces started to fit together.

And
with it, a final memory slammed into place like a key being shoved
into a lock.

Nida
remembered exactly what had happened to her on Remus 12.

She
recalled coming across that second set of stairs and falling down
it. She'd broken her ribs, done something to her ankle, and she had
lost Carson Blake's scanner in the dark. Then she had clambered up
the wrong set of stairs, only to find herself in an enormous room,
completely empty save for a startling statue.

As
Nida lay there following her memories, she recalled, in perfect
detail, how she had walked up to the statue, marvelled at its
unique beauty, and then . . . she had reached
out a hand to touch the blue, glowing orb it had held.

That
was when everything had started. That was when the energy from the
orb had exploded and rushed into Nida.

She
remembered it so clearly it was as if she was experiencing it
anew.

As
that memory ebbed, and she again became aware of the hard medical
bed below her, she opened her eyes.

As she
did, she felt something build up behind them, and she saw the world
cast into a curious blue glow.

With a
disconnected certainty, she realised the energy from her left hand
had possessed her eyes. In fact, as she glanced down at her body,
she now realised she glowed from head to foot.

Glancing up at the stasis field above her, she stared on in
mild curiosity as the thing began to flicker. Great arcs of energy
passed across it, and the orange glow became incandescent, flecks
of fiery red cracking across it like plumes of larva spilling up
from fissures in the earth.

She
heard the scientists screaming now. Their voices were distinct, and
yet Nida did not have the concentration necessary to understand
them. Instead, she marvelled at the feeling flowing through
her.

She no
longer felt pain, no agony, no sickness.

With
the memory of what had truly happened to her on Remus 12, the
mystery of the energy no longer haunted her.

She
understood what it was. She knew where it belonged. And as she
slowly pushed herself up from her hard bed, she realised she had to
take it home.

That
disembodied voice in her mind once again repeated that they had to
leave Earth before they became corrupted.

Nida
did not understand what corrupted meant, but in a flash, she saw
herself walking through the halls of the Academy again, destroying
everything in her path. Taking sadistic, horrible pleasure in
crippling and crushing everybody that stood in her way.

“The
stasis field is failing,” she heard one woman scream.

“Jesus
Christ, the generator is buckling,” another man noted with a
keening cry.

As
Nida sat up, she stared through the malfunctioning field at the
rest of the room.

The
machines that generated the energetic veil holding her in place
were starting to warp. The metal was stretching, buckling, and
groaning as it shifted closer towards the field, as if pulled by an
invisible hand.

“We
have to do something,” someone screamed.

Nida
did not hear them answer.

Instead, she stood up. As she shifted her weight to her feet,
again, she found herself staring down, and she watched that blue
distinctive energy trace its way over every centimetre of her
skin.

This
time she did not flinch though. She no longer brought her
fingernails up and dug them into her flesh as far as they would go,
trying to root out every last scrap of that energy.