Start (26 page)

Instead, she opened herself up to it.

She
surrendered to that soft, welcoming presence in her mind that told
her in sweet, reassuring tones that as long as she returned home,
everything would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

Nida
took a step forward. She wasn't entirely in control of her body; it
was only in concert with the presence in her mind that she managed
to move her limbs.

Though
everything she knew about stasis fields told her not to reach out a
hand and touch one, she did it anyway. And as her blue, glowing
fingers pressed against the side of the field, it failed. In an
incredible, gushing ray of sparks, the machines that manufactured
it exploded.

People
screamed.

She
wanted to tell them it would be okay, but she couldn't.

Instead, she took a laboured step forward, her movements
jerky.

She
felt like a puppet being pulled along by strings, but nonetheless
she made her way across the room.

With
every step she took, the devices and machines around her shifted
closer towards her body.

They
grated across the floor, no matter how big nor heavy they were.
Some even lifted into the air as if they had cancelled out the
effects of gravity.

Though
they circled her, she did not fear they would rush towards her and
crush her body.

She
simply ignored them and took yet another strained step
forward.

She
was no longer aware of what the scientists were doing. She simply
concentrated on the door on the other side of the room.

She
could hear some kind of alarm blaring, and the part of her that
still remembered her Academy training knew it was a red
alert.

Red
alert . . . ? That was serious. That would call
the Academy's combined security force.

She
would not be able to get out of here. They would put every single
obstacle in her path until they slowed her down. If that wouldn’t
work, they would likely kill her.

Despite that realisation, she did not stop. It did not really
affect her. With the warm, reassuring presence in her mind, little
could.

She
finally reached the door, and as she did, it opened.

A team
of black-clad security guards brought up their weapons and pointed
them right at her.

She
should have doubled back; she should have put her hands over her
head and begged for mercy.

She
didn't.

She
simply took a shuddering step forward.

The
man directly in front of her was wearing a helmet that matched his
black armour, but it only half covered his face. She could see his
mouth, and right now, she watched as it dropped open in
unmistakable fear. “Don't move,” he cried, and that same command
was picked up and repeated by every member of his team.

She
took another step forward, staring at the barrel of his gun as he
pointed it at her.

She
realised how dangerous it was, but again, that realisation had
little of an effect on her. It felt more like some curious fact she
had learnt long ago in school, rather than the unmistakably
important reality she now faced.

Without another warning, the man ducked back and he
fired.

She
watched the pulse of red light tear from the muzzle of his
gun.

Then
it seemed as if time itself slowed down.

Or
perhaps it didn't.

The
bullet did.

As it
shot towards her, it slowed, and then, like the metal objects had
in the room, it began to circle around her.

The
security guards doubled back, shouting amongst themselves, and then
they fired again.

Seven
more bullets ripped towards her, but rather than striking her and
blowing her off her feet, they simply slowed and began to circle
around her as if they were feathers or leaves trapped in a gently
moving eddy of air.

She
took another unsteady step forward, and then another.

She
had to get out of here.

The
problem was she had never been in this particular corridor. She
also knew, academically, that unless she did something, security
would lock this entire building down.

Just
as that realisation dawned on her, Nida found herself leaning
down.

Her
knees didn't buckle out from underneath her; slowly her body
descended until she planted one hand on the flat, smooth, cold
floor.

Blue
energy rushed down into the concrete, cracking it into fine powder
as tendrils of the light spread out further and further.

The
security guards behind her screamed, but she had no idea what they
were saying.

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.