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He
swore loudly, and he fancied the sound of it bounced off the
walls.

Standing up, he raced over to his room, and selected a dress
uniform from his wardrobe.

Yep, a
dress uniform. He was giving a lecture, and yet they expected him
to look as if he was about to entertain an ambassador or sign a
galactic treaty.

Grumbling even more, he pulled on the uniform then strode out
into the main room. Catching his reflection in the glass, he
grimaced.

Now he
would look even sillier whilst giving this dumb talk. Because,
let's face it, while he could defeat mercenaries and terrorist
factions, he had zero talent for teaching.

He
would be an awkward mess. Yet, with a steeling breath, he still
forced himself to walk out of his apartment, down to the closest
lift, and out into the glorious day.

The
stroll across Academy grounds to the main teaching building was a
short and pleasant one.

There
was a lovely breeze picking up off the bay far away, and he could
smell just a touch of fresh, salty surf in the air.

Enormous trees lined the thoroughfare between the apartment
complexes and the Academy headquarters, and their leaves rustled in
the slight wind.

If he
hadn't had a lecture to get to, he would have kicked off his shoes,
found a nice quiet section of the grounds, and taken a nap under
one of those grand old oaks.

He
didn't have that luxury though. Plus, the place was already filling
up with students, and he watched them all scoot around him, smiling
or chatting happily as they did.

He was
a bit of a celebrity around here, he knew that, and though he’d
once loved the attention, it was starting to wear thin.

During
his undergrad years, being popular had been a boon. He'd been
invited to all the parties, he’d always had a date, and he’d
generally had one hell of a time. Yet now, things had changed,
because now he had responsibility. In fact, with every day, he had
more and more.

Now he
wanted people to get out of his way so he could do what he had to.
He didn't want cadets stopping him in the street to ask for holo
photos, and neither did he want undergrads running up to him every
second to ask for tips on telekinetic implants and deep space
combat.

“Get
over yourself,” he whispered under his breath, realising how
arrogant he must sound.

With
renewed vigour, he finally made it across the grounds and into the
Academy headquarters. Then he set his jaw hard and forced himself
to find the right lecture theatre.

As the
class started to fill with cadets, he tried not to look at how
excited they all seemed.

Okay,
so he was relatively competent when it came to the use of his
telekinetic implant, but for god's sake, he wasn't the expert
everyone kept calling him. If all of these kids put in as much
effort as he had, and practised for as many hours, they would be
able to do everything he could.

All
too soon, Commander Sharpe came bustling up to him, and the lecture
began. With a short introduction, Carson found himself thrust into
the spotlight, literally. He had no problem with public speaking,
but he couldn’t help but feel like a fraud as he stood there and
pretended he had the right to be teaching anybody.

Still,
he put on a good show, strengthened his resolve, and got through
it.

Thankfully, halfway through, they turned off the spotlight,
and gave him a bunch of telekinetic weapons to demonstrate
instead.

This
part he loved; this part he could do in his sleep.

There
was something so invigorating about the use of his telekinetic
implant—or the TI, as most people referred to it.

When
he was commanding it, and seeing objects fly across the room with
little more than a thought, he felt so in control.

Yet
even as he demonstrated a powerful TI weapon known as the 10
pointed blade, it didn't stop him from looking up to see a
particularly late cadet creep into the back of the lecture
hall.

Though
he couldn't see them perfectly from where he stood, he could see
their hair.

Harper.

He
almost dropped the 10-pointed blade, but with a quick thought, held
steady.

She
was 45 minutes late.

And
that was pretty late considering this lecture only ran for an
hour.

Pushing on with the rest of his talk, he soon finished, and
before he could get away, he was inundated by questions.

Though
technically the class was over, and everyone was free to leave,
nobody did.

Nobody
except Harper.

He
flicked his eyes up to see her surreptitiously slip out the back of
the lecture hall.

Ha.

Had he
been that boring?

Clearly not, considering every other cadet in the hall was
practically fighting each other for a chance to ask him
something.

It
took a long time to wade through everybody's questions, but
eventually he did it, then he finally found himself free and
quickly scooted away from the lecture theatre before any more
cadets could pick his brains.

As he
half jogged through the halls, intending to get back to his own
office before anybody could waylay him again, he kept his eyes
peeled.

For
Cadet Harper.

He now
had two things he wanted to ask. Why had she been so late for his
lecture, and how in god’s name had she injured herself.

He
rolled his eyes as he realised he should just drop it. The medical
staff aboard the Orion would have already questioned her, and if
they’d thought there was anything suspicious, they would have
looked into it.

He
told himself firmly to get over it, but the more he tried, the less
he succeeded.

Though
he wanted to run into her, he didn't, and soon enough he reached
his office. With a massive sigh, he considered the enormous mess of
data pads and old, ruined TI weapons that were strewn around the
place. He knew he should clean it up, but always told himself he
didn't have the time.

So
instead of bending down and picking up the junk littering the
floor, he pushed his way over to the windows. Then he looked down
at the unrivalled view of the Academy grounds below.

Before
too long he found himself scanning the lawns, checking every corner
for a hint of curly black hair.

When
he realised what he was doing, he shook his head.

“Get
over it,” he commanded himself one last time, “you're just trying
to distract yourself from bigger things.”

Which
was true.

Carson
had far larger problems to consider, and just maybe he was using
the not-so mysterious injuries of Cadet Harper to
procrastinate.

After
he finally convinced himself that was the case, he turned, and he
got back to work.

Cadet
Harper

Dammit, she had done it again.

She’d
been late for class. She’d just overslept. Despite the fact her
alarm was set diabolically loud, she had somehow snoozed right
through.

Was
there something wrong with her?

She
had to get to her next class, but as she walked across the
enormous, green grounds in between the Academy complex, she found
herself slowing down.

Before
she knew it, she angled towards a tree on the far edge of the lawn,
and promptly sat underneath it, pressing her back against its
girth.

She
loved this tree, and she loved sitting exactly here. Because if you
huddled yourself up just right, nobody could see you. It was just
you, the tree, a slice of blue sky visible through the leaves, and
relative silence.

“Get
to class,” she mumbled under her breath, admonishing herself as she
did. “You can't afford any more reprimands,” she added with a
grimace.

But no
matter how sternly she told herself to move, she couldn't. She just
hugged her arms around her knees and rocked back and
forth.

She’d
had some pretty weird dreams last night.

Strange and deeply unsettling ones.

She
rocked back and forth harder and harder, her shoulders banging into
the trunk behind her with a rhythmic thump, thump,
thump.

Every
single dream had been about that planet. Remus 12.

And
all had featured odd, dancing, writhing blue light.

She
squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the memories from her mind,
but it wouldn't work.

Impressions kept on forming there, like shapes in the clouds
above.

“Come
on, get to class,” she clenched her teeth hard.

But
she couldn't.

She
just couldn't move.

She
felt immobilised by the flashes of her half-remembered dreams.
Impressions, thoughts, visions. They swept around her, curling in
and in like a rope wrapping around her middle.

“It
was just a dream.”

Yet no
matter how much she tried to convince herself it was nothing, her
body twitched and stiffened under the flashing visions of her
nightmares.

Eventually she rested her head back, closing her eyes as she
did.

After
several minutes of fighting against the sensations haunting her
mind and body, she felt herself drift off.

All
thoughts of getting to class were forgotten.

Soon
enough all she was aware of was her slowly thumping heart and a
beautiful, warm ray of sunshine filtering in through a break in the
leaves above. It played against her face like the touch of a gentle
hand.

Then,
before she knew it, she fell asleep.

Just
as soon as unconsciousness took her, she drifted straight into a
dream.

She
was standing back on the surface of Remus 12. It was night. The
stars glittered high above her, dancing and flickering and
glimmering.

She
reached a hand up to them, but then, with a stab of shock, she
realised blue light travelled across her skin. It jumped up from
her wrist, curling around and pushing its way into her fingernails.
Then it travelled deep down into her palm, caressing each bone and
pushing its way through every vein, until it erupted again through
her palm, twisting around every centimetre of her flesh as it burnt
bright blue.

She
stared at it, fear and surprise coalescing in her heart until it
felt as if she would pop.

She
tried to bat the blue light away, tried to push that dancing,
writhing energy off her hand, but she couldn't move.

“Help
me,” she said under her breath, barely capable of opening her lips.
“Help me,” she said again, panic rising in her heart like a lick of
flame growing brighter and brighter.

She
looked up again, tearing her eyes off the terrible energy forcing
its way through her, and she saw the stars cape above.

It was
different.

The
stars, the constellations, everything had changed.

And
then, in a moment of primal instinct, she knew why.

It was
old.

This
was old. The planet, the stars, the energy.

Old.

That
knowledge built up in her with a horrible, pounding
certainty.

As it
did, she began to feel ancient. All of the youth and vibrancy in
her body washed away, and centimetre by centimetre, second by
second, she began to stiffen. Like stone.

She
was turning into a statue.

Returning to the earth. Returning to the ancient, dark reaches
of time.

She
tried to scream. She couldn't. She tried to breathe, but her chest
no longer moved up and down. All that shifted was that blue energy
as it continued to rise through her arm, up into her neck, and
deep, deep into her chest.

Carson
Blake

He was
at a loss. He’d given his lecture that morning, and then he'd gone
back to his office to finish off whatever paperwork he'd been
avoiding for the past few weeks. Now he had nothing to do. Which
was unusual, because he was the head of the Force, and they existed
to be busy. But right now, he was between missions.

And it
felt like hell.

It
gave him way too much time to think.

And he
really didn't need that right now.

So he
picked himself up and decided it was time for a walk instead.
Trundling across the grounds, he found himself staying to the
relatively unused paths. He really didn't want to be stopped by any
undergrads for photos today. So he walked along the sides of the
buildings, staying under the large trees, and enjoying the shade of
their canopies. It was when he was slowly strolling past one
enormous oak with a fantastically large trunk that he saw a cadet
sleeping underneath it.