Ouroboros 4: End (2 page)

‘Come on,’ she croaked. She tried to keep her voice even, but she couldn’t. Her throat felt like someone had tried to choke her.

‘You’re tired.’

‘I’m fine,’ she lied immediately, pushing past him to continue down the tunnels.

He wouldn’t let her; he pushed out a hand and grabbed her wrist. Though it was not a strong move, and his grip could not bruise her skin, neither was it subtle.

‘Nida,’ he began.

She reacted instantly. She knew he was about to tell her to fall back, to find some room to hide in while he took on the rest of the Barbarians all on his own. Well, she wasn’t going to let him. Looking up into his eyes and hoping his armor could pick up on just how much passion burned within her gaze, she shook her head in a short and final move. ‘We keep pushing on. Together,’ she emphasized. ‘We’ll make it to the Farsight. We have to do this. If we pause, if we hide, they will find us. They know we are down here, and surprise is the only weapon we’ve got.’

He hadn’t let go of her wrist yet, and didn’t appear ready to as he shifted his fingers further up her arm.

Even though he was wearing his heavy, thick armor, her skin still tingled at his touch. There could have been a wall a meter thick between them, and she would still have felt how gentle yet deliberate his intention was.

‘I’m not going to lose you,’ he stated blankly. ‘You’re tired. We need to fall back.’

‘Carson,’ she began.

He raised his other hand, his fingers separating slowly. ‘No. This is an order. We can’t keep going like this.’

‘Carson,’ she tried once more. Passion built in her heart as she readied to fight him.

She didn’t get the chance.

‘Nida, just trust me,’ he said, his voice barely audible as he pushed forward and rested one hand on her shoulder. He let it sit there for two short seconds before it dropped and he shifted back.

She wanted to tell him she could do this. She wanted to prove to him that she could push on no matter how tired she felt. But with a quick and low nod, he just turned around. ‘Wait here. I’m just going to check the tunnels ahead.’

‘Carson,’ she called after him.

But he was already gone.

So she stood there, breathing hard, her body cold and hot and tired and buzzing all at once.

Though she wanted to push on no matter what it cost, a little voice of reason told her that just maybe Carson Blake, the head of the Force, knew more about combat than she did.

A little part of her pointed out she had to trust him.

Another little part of her realized something quite different though.

That just maybe this fire pushing her forward wasn’t entirely her own.

As she stood there in that cold, dark corridor, she stared down at her left hand. It still glowed. Though faint, it was enough to navigate by. It was enough to outline her hand as she held it in front of her face, staring at the grooves and whorls in the skin.

She suddenly remembered something. Before this had all began—back when she had been at the Academy, dreaming those horrible visions of the entity—she’d felt her left hand no longer belonged to her.

Well this sensation—this drive to power forward, to surge past the Barbarians no matter what it took—didn’t feel like hers either. Yet, at the same time, she knew that the entity could no longer manipulate her; it was still blocked off by her modified TI.

. . . .

But she couldn’t deny she felt it.

The impressions it had left. The motivations, the drive, the determination.

It had left thoughts in her mind that did not belong to her, but more than that, this unending desire to get something done.

It had taken her on a journey, and like it or not, it had changed her.

She felt . . . cold.

As realization took her, it slithered up and down her spine with a chilling, creeping touch. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself.

She couldn’t keep them there though—all too soon, she found herself untucking her left hand and staring down at it.

She had never enjoyed power. Though she had always tried at the Academy, her best efforts had been next to useless.

So she wasn’t used to the . . . fire that came along with power. The knowledge that you could change your environment if only you tried hard enough, if only you stoked up the fire within until it burnt through all obstacles.

All of a sudden, she closed her eyes and pressed her right hand over her face.

‘No,’ she said aloud.

This wasn’t her.

Who cared if she had the power of the entity? Who cared if she could push past it in order to use its energy as her own? Who cared if she could lift a Barbarian into the air with little more than a thought and a wish?

She wasn’t going to turn into it.

She would not become the entity.

She would not sacrifice the lives of others for her goal.

. . . .

Or would she?

She had to save the Coalition, and she had promised Carson she would be prepared to do whatever it would take. And surely that meant sacrificing others.

. . . .

Wasn’t that what the entity had done? Albeit on a grander scale?

She shook her head, trying to push the thoughts from her mind.

She couldn’t.

They kept creeping up on her. The more she tried to concentrate on the dark, ominous tunnel around her, the more the immediate situation slipped from her consciousness to be replaced by thoughts of what everything now meant.

Clutching her hands into fists, she waited for Carson to return. She needed him to come marching back to her side, to pull her forward as they plunged back into the fray. For while she fought, she did not think.

And maybe that’s the real reason she wanted to keep pushing forward, despite the odds—perhaps that was the only way to hide from the consequences of her newfound power and responsibility.

As she thought, she swore the shadows deepened around her, she swore the chill of the room ate further and faster into her bones until she shivered and shook.

It felt like the world was pulling in on her, as if the universe was somehow condensing into a point.

‘Come on,’ she told herself through gritted teeth.

Though there were no Barbarians in this section of the tunnels—as Carson would never have left her otherwise—she still had to keep her wits about her.

The thoughts . . . could wait.

Wait until the situation died down far enough for Nida to truly pause to think about what she was doing, what she had become, and what she’d have to transform into next if she truly wanted to see this through.

Carson Blake

He hated to leave her, but he couldn’t keep pushing her forward, not when she looked as though she was ready to break.

Though she had awesome power now, he could tell it cost her every time she used the entity.

Her face was pallid and drawn from fatigue.

So he’d made a quick decision—leave her there while he scouted out the immediate tunnels, looking for a place to hide.

. . . .

But that was the problem—there was no place to hide down here. Of course there wasn’t. Though the tunnels seemed to go on indefinitely, so did the Barbarian’s desire to capture or kill both him and Nida.

Carson wasn’t ready to give in though.

Because there was one option he hadn’t explored yet.

Contacting the cavalry.

He knew there must be Coalition ships around—they would still be looking for Nida. Before this insane time-travel journey had begun, Admiral Forest and half the 5th Fleet had been out tracking Nida down after she’d trashed the Academy.

They would still be out there.

No time had passed for them.

Which meant Carson had an option.

If he could get a message to them, and ride out the Barbarian storm, he could get out of this.

Though initially he’d thought the two of them could just punch through the Barbarians and get to the Farsight, or steal a Barbarian ship, he now knew it was impossible. Not only was Nida rapidly declining, but he’d underestimated the Barbarians.

No.

The only option was to wait for the cavalry.

Getting them here would be another task though.

To do that, he had to do the impossible. Though his armor was certainly capable of sending communications, it had a limited range. Plus, the Barbarians were jamming all incoming and outgoing signals.

But that still left Carson one option: the Farsight. If he could remotely patch his armor into the Farsight’s computers, he could use its coms array to boost the signal from his armor, and hopefully together they could punch through the interference and get a message off.

So that’s what he was doing right now.

Hunkered down in one of the tunnels close to the surface, Carson desperately commanded his armor as he shot at any Barbarian that rounded the corner.

He was ensconced in a wide room that was completely filled with rubble and debris. From gun casings to abandoned armor units, there was nowhere to sit.

He didn’t have to get comfortable though—he just had to get this message off.

So he spent the next five minutes doing just that. They were some of the most pressured seconds of his life. As he stood there with his back pressed up against a ruined wall, he kept sending commands to his armor—instructing it on how to remotely access the Farsight—whilst he defended his position.

With every passing moment, the fight grew more and more intense, and the corresponding split in his attention—between thought and action—more painful. Sweat caked his brow, his veins thrummed in his throat, and his eyes were soldered so far open, the skin surrounding them could have cracked and crumbled.

His body ached, but his mind ached harder.

. . . .

And yet, he did it.

Somehow, just as two enormous Mascars rounded the corner blasting away with heavy-duty pulse rifles, he gained access to the Farsight and sent the message.

For a split second relief washed over him, then so did a cloud of rubble as the Mascars destroyed the ceiling above.

They did not pause for thought or reason, they just aimed at the ceiling and let loose with a relentless volley of fire until they obliterated it, sending a hail of dust and stone raining down on them all.

Carson ducked down automatically, punching to his feet just as his roll brought him over the rocky ground.

Once he stood, he did not pause: he powered forward, right at the far wall.

It was pockmarked, but it was still solid.

Yet he ran right at it.

As he did, he brought up his own gun, thumbed the setting to its highest, and shot the wall at the last moment.

A super-heated charge lanced from his gun, powering into the wall and turning a whole section to nothing but vapor.

He rolled right through the opening.

He’d already used his scanners to ascertain there was a room on the opposite side, and he jumped right into it, flipped, and headed for the closest door.

Now he’d done the impossible in calling the cavalry, it was time to get back to Nida.

Though she was incredibly strong, and seemed capable of drawing on reserves deep within her, she was still just human. Like him, she couldn’t keep pushing on forever.

And to think she could, would just get her killed.

He’d deliberately left her in a section of tunnels far away from the current battle, and as he powered forward through the tunnel before him, he checked to see that she was still there.

Though his scanners didn’t work perfectly down here, he’d already got them to tag her, so he narrowed in on her location easily.

With a sigh that didn’t make it out of the confines of his helmet, he realized she was still alone, still standing, and clearly still alive.

Still, he didn’t let up—he pushed himself as fast as he could go until he reached her.

Though he faced considerable Barbarian resistance, he managed to leave them far behind as he pushed deeper and deeper into the tunnels and closer and closer to Nida.

Though now really wasn’t the time to ponder it, these tunnels were incredible. They just kept going. Twisting and curling like the tail of a coiled snake. You would round one corner to find yet another hallway stretching out beyond you, branching off into yet more and more tunnels.

They just seemed to stretch on forever. And though the rational part of Carson’s mind knew that was impossible, the past few weeks of his life had taught him reason couldn’t always hold out. He’d been backwards and forwards through time, battling a race hell bent on saving themselves, and an entity from another dimension hell bent on fixing its mistakes of the past.

Still, one day, if everything calmed down, maybe he’d like to explore these tunnels. That was the primary remit of the Academy after all—it trained soldiers, yes, but primarily explorers. He loved chancing upon new planets, new cultures, new forms of life.

But there was no time for exploration now. In a few weeks, maybe. Now, however, there was only time for action.

He kept his scanners locked on her, until finally he rounded the same corridor she was in, and let an enormous, rattling sigh punch through his chest. He wanted to scream her name, race to her side, and fold his arms around her. He wanted to pull her closer than he’d ever pulled anyone before.

Because she was different.

Cadet Nida Harper was so very different. And he loved her for it.

This crazy adventure might have given him reason to abandon logic, but it had also given him something he had never expected to find.

A different kind of love.

Okay, he knew it sounded sappy, but he didn’t care.

He felt something between them that he’d never even realized was possible. Maybe it was just the heightened tension and expectation of a relationship formed under pressure, or maybe it was more.

Something he couldn’t define. Something his mind couldn’t simplify into words. Yet something he could feel with every gram of his being.

So when he saw her standing there, he couldn’t help himself.

He ran right up to her and pulled her into a hug.

She let him.

Though her face paled with shock at his sudden appearance, it soon softened.

He couldn’t help but let out a relieved laugh. Though he really wanted to follow up on that relief by kissing her, he wasn’t going to risk taking off his helmet. Things appeared quiet in this tunnel, but a good soldier knew that appearance offered little safety.

So he just pulled away, pushing his fingers across her cheeks as he did.

She looked up at him, her eyes wide with focus, but that tired tinge to her skin obvious in the dark pool under her lashes and the pale touch to her cheeks. She looked as if she’d been fighting for a week.

‘What happened? What did you find out?’ she asked.

He kept pushing his armored fingers and thumb across her cheek, watching her skin dimple with the move, but unable to feel it.

‘Coalition,’ he said simply.

He watched her eyes draw narrow in confusion. ‘What?’

‘The cavalry are coming.’