Ouroboros 4: End (12 page)

Yet even as she thought that, she swallowed hard, her throat pushing against her collar, the implant scratching the fabric.

She tapped at it, closing her fingers tight against the skin.

Though she wanted to believe none of these feelings were her own, her gut instinct told her they were.

It was too easy to turn her back on the entity and the Vex. Despite what they had done to her, she was a member of the Coalition Academy.

And Bridget was wrong. Nida did have values, and she knew how to uphold them.

She'd been there on the first day of class when Sharpe had told them all that as members of the Coalition Academy they were to uphold the good, the right, and the just.

For that's what the Galactic Coalition Union stood for.

It separated itself from the Barbarians and the Kor and all of those other warring factions because of its moral integrity. It protected the weak, it shepherded people into the future, and it never harmed others for its own gain.

Well, the lecture Sharpe had given all those years ago no longer meshed with the Coalition she saw today.

She could understand Carson and the decision he'd help make, but she couldn't push away the fact they weren't trying hard enough.

Surely destroying Vex should be the last option. Not the first. Surely they could travel to Vex and spend the time until that planet realigned looking for a solution.

If the worst came to the worst, then they could destroy Vex just as it realigned with the galaxy.

They could at least try.

As Nida walked and thought, she paid no attention whatsoever to where she was and who was around her.

In fact, she was in so much of a daze, that she walked right into the back of a large man and barely noticed. Glancing off his shoulder, she continued forward, clutching her left hand back and forth as she thought through this desperate situation.

The man cleared his throat. It was a very pointed move, and though she wanted to ignore it, there was something terribly memorable about it.

It raced up her back, and panic sunk deep into her gut.

‘Really, Cadet? You walk into me, and you don't apologize?’

She froze.

Commander Sharpe.

Bradley and Bridget were one thing, Sharpe was in a completely different league.

He'd been the one to come up with her nickname of the worst recruit in 1000 years. He'd been the one to berate her about her story of the Vex.

And he was now the one who took several short, marching steps her way, his expression souring as he did.

Though Nida had felt powerful anger moments before, it was burnt up in Sharpe's presence.

Though she'd never thought of it that way, the Commander was kind of her nemesis. The bully who had berated her through her few short years as a Coalition cadet.

Except, he wasn't, was he?

Not entirely.

Though Sharpe never missed a chance to tell her she was a terrible cadet and should quit the Academy, there was no true anger behind his words.

He didn't hate her. A fact evidenced by the way he'd treated her after her accident with those TI objects so long ago. With compassion as well as frustration crumpling his brow, he'd told her to look after herself.

Well right now, as he marched up to her side, crossing his enormous tree trunk like arms before his chest, he looked down with that same confused expression. There was a definite edge of frustration, but flickering deep within his slate grey eyes was compassion. ‘What are you doing? Shouldn't you be in the medical bay? You should not be walking the halls. Drawing attention,’ he added in a hiss.

She blinked quickly, trying to marshal up her courage.

A few seconds ago she'd been lost in the brutality of the Coalition destroying the Vex, and now all she could remember was how damn weak Sharpe made her feel.

Her heart was a mess, her hands were sweaty, and she was now pressing her teeth into her bottom lip so hard, the damn thing would likely pop.

‘Cadet,’ Sharpe said in a low growl, ‘don't you have anything to say for yourself?’

She opened her mouth.

She stopped.

‘Cadet?’ He crossed his arms harder, looking at her with a truly questioning expression.

‘I'm heading back there now,’ she finally said in the weakest of voices that barely carried beyond her lips.

Without bothering to salute, and feeling her emotions tackle her once more, she turned on her foot to walk away.

‘Nida,’ Sharpe said suddenly.

He used her first name. He very rarely used her first name. When he wasn't calling her Cadet Harper, he was calling her a waste of space. Yet now as he said her name, there was an odd tone to his voice. Almost familiar. Like he was a friend rather than a commander and her constant bully.

She paused, turning over her shoulder to look at him.

He dropped his arms around his middle. ‘They haven't told me what's going on,’ he pointed out.

She half closed her eyes. Right. He wanted to know.

Before she could shake her head, he shook his. ‘I'm not asking you to tell me, Cadet,’ he spoke tersely, ‘I'm here to give you some advice.’

She paused.

She should probably walk away.

Like she walked away from Bridget.

Like she walked away from Carson.

But she didn't.

Because this was Sharpe.

Despite the fact she now had an incredibly powerful entity residing in her left palm, and the weight of the universe resting on her shoulders, he was the one force that could keep her riveted to the spot.

‘You weren't always the best cadet,’ he began.

Her heart sank.

Really?

That's not what she needed now.

People had to stop reminding her she wasn't brilliant.

Yes, she was fully aware of the fact she wasn't Carson. She didn't share his loyalty, nor his determination to save the Coalition.

She didn't have his pure heart, she couldn't use it to understand this murky moral situation.

What she had, instead, was a direct line to the entity and its guilt. To all of that shame. Not only had it broken Vex, but it had spent so long, so many eons trying to fix it. It had shepherded those people through so many iterations of their history, that the entity could not see them fall.

No doubt a better cadet could push past that and do what was necessary.

She couldn't.

With a sinking heart, she went to turn away again.

‘Cadet, I'm talking to you,’ Sharpe snapped, shifting in front of her. ‘I'm not done. Like I said, you weren't always the best cadet, but you tried.’

Reluctantly, she looked up at him.

With turgid emotion swirling through her, she was at once on the verge of tears, and also vitriolic anger.

She remained there though, watching Sharpe.

‘I didn't always . . . credit you for that. You tried, Cadet. Sometimes harder than any of the other kids. You never gave up. Despite the fact I always thought you weren't cut out for this life, you didn't quit. And I'll admit, after your first week, I didn't think you'd last another. Then after your first month, again I didn't think you'd last another. But you kept lasting. And you keep lasting. You may not have the qualities most of the other cadets do, but you've got something different. I'm not privy to what the Admiralty has decided, as it is beyond my remit. But clearly they believe in you. They believe your story,’ he stuttered as he said the word story. ‘And if it's true, Cadet, then you should be proud.’

Nida's stomach gave a twitchy kick. She had to press a hand into it, lest she jerked forward in surprise. ‘What?’

‘Cadet Nida Harper, you should be proud. I'm going to tell you a secret,’ he suddenly admitted.

She blinked quickly.

‘Sometimes the standout cadets make the worst officers. What we teach in here,’ he pointed to the ground then let his wrist flick around as he indicated the walls as well,

‘isn't always what they test out there,’ he pointed up to the sky, clearly indicating the rest of the galaxy. ‘The troubles and pressures at the Academy, aren't the ones you necessarily face in the real world. We can only teach you as best we can, but at the end of the day, being a Coalition soldier and officer will test your personality just as much as it will your training and skills. Unless you have the guile, unless you have the guts and resilience, you won't last. I've lost track of the number of promising cadets I've trained, only for them to quit, bail, or fail. I've also lost track of the number of cadets I thought would never succeed who proved me wrong. Have you ever heard of Captain Cora?’ He nodded at Nida pointedly.

She squeezed her lips together and nodded. Of course she had. Captain Cora was a legend.

‘She was one of the first cadets I taught. I thought she'd bail at the first opportunity. She had a hot head, a hot temper, and never listened to orders. Well, without her, Earth would have succumbed to a Barbarian plot years ago.’

Nida just watched him silently.

Was he building her up?

Sharpe, of all people?

‘I could tell you a whole list of others, but there's no point. Cadet Harper, you've proved me wrong, like the rest of them keep proving me wrong. You're terrible at learning to be a cadet, but you're brilliant out in the field. And I don't need to tell you, that's all that matters.’

The anger wasn't there anymore. The anger that had chewed through her, threatening to pull down every sense of resolve and morality she had ever built.

It was gone.

It died there in that moment she stared at Commander Sharpe. The man she had once assumed hated her and thought she was just a waste of space.

The man who had coined a terrible nickname.

He thought she was brilliant in the field?

‘We can't test results, kid,’ he repeated. ‘We could pretend to. We can put you through stressful situations, test you, push you to the limits, but it's still in a controlled environment. It's only when you get out there, and you know there's no one that's got your back, that we really find out what we're made off. I'm gonna tell you once more, Harper, you're a terrible cadet, but you're a brilliant Coalition soldier.’

She was stunned.

In that moment, all of her troubles fell away for a precious few seconds.

She couldn't believe this.

Though Carson kept telling her she was better than she thought, hearing it from Sharpe was the real thing.

Sharpe never lied to you just to make you feel better.

Sharpe told you exactly what he thought, and he didn't sugarcoat it.

Which meant . . . good God, it meant he actually thought she was a brilliant Coalition soldier.

Sharpe stiffened his jaw, the muscles along his neck bulging against his thick collar, making the three shiny pins that indicated his rank bulge. ‘I don't know what you're going through, but I bet I know what you're thinking. So stop it. Don't second-guess yourself, Harper. Do what is right. That's all that matters. When you get out there,’ he pointed up once more, again indicating the rest of the galaxy beyond the controlled confines of the Coalition Academy, ‘all that matters is that you do good. We try to teach you how to do that down here,’ he glanced around the corridors, ‘but we don't always get it right. Because down here is clear, and up there isn't. It's murky, it's messy. But as long as you save people. As long as you do what's right and just, that's all that matters. You've gotta be proud of yourself, and you gotta make me proud of you,’ he said as he stabbed a thumb her way. ‘Show me I was always wrong about you,’ he challenged.

She didn't speak.

What on earth could she say?

Commander Sharpe wasn't just rising to her defense, he wasn't just making her feel better—he was completely washing away the opinion she'd always held of herself.

As the weak, terrible, worst Cadet in 1000 years.

Sharpe cleared his throat, again crossing his arms. ‘Like I said, I don't know what they want you for. But, Cadet, go out there and help. Do what is right. Do what I taught you. Do something that'll make us all proud.’

She let her lips drop open.

She was speechless.

Sharpe shook his head. ‘That's where you snap a salute, turn stiffly on your foot, and race out to save the galaxy. We can only teach you how to pass tests down here, how to handle a scanner, how to use your TI. We can't teach you how to save the galaxy. We can only hope that you'll rise to the challenge when you meet it.’

He took a step back, raised his arm, and snapped a perfect salute.

Instinctively, she did the same.

‘You always did snap a bizarrely perfect salute,’ he muttered as he raised an eyebrow and shook his head. ‘I thought that was the only thing you could get right. I was wrong. Now go out and show the galaxy how wrong I was.’ He added in a grumble as he turned.

Without a goodbye, he left.

He left her completely stupefied.