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Though
Carson already knew Sharpe had a temper and a personality like a
bulldog, he bristled at that. Yes, Harper appeared to be
particularly incapable, but she didn't deserve everybody's ire. She
wasn’t incompetent on purpose. She simply appeared to be flaky. Yet
before Carson could point this out, he watched as Cadet J’Etem
reached down and managed to activate four blocks by her feet all at
once.

He was
impressed, and he offered her a smile that conveyed
that.

Then,
with perfect timing, she managed to make them spin around
her.

She
really was good, and he realised that before too long, she would
undoubtedly make her way into the Force.

He
could use good TI practitioners like her.

Yet,
just as soon as those four blocks began to spin, one of them darted
off.

Quickly.

In
fact, blindingly fast.

He had
time to stumble forward as surprise slackened his brow, before the
block shot across the room with the speed of a bullet.

It
slammed into Harper.

She
turned briefly and he saw her eyes widen as the block smacked into
the centre of her chest, sending her flying as it did.

There
was a crack, and it most definitely sounded like bone.

The
block didn’t just knock her off her feet. It pinned her to the
ground.

Sharpe
was the first to react. The Commander sprinted towards her, then
reached forward with his hand, spreading his fingers and activating
his implant. A faint yellow energy played across his fingers as he
used as much power as he could muster to pull the block off
Harper.

It
should have been an easy task for somebody like Sharpe. For all the
times he claimed Blake was a master, Sharpe was one of the best TI
practitioners at the Academy. Yet as he reached Harper, it was
clear he was having trouble pulling the training block off her
chest.

It
still pinned her to the ground, pushing down with all its weight
against her chest.

“Come
on,” Sharpe hissed under his breath.

Then,
with a snap, the training block finally released, and Sharpe
managed to yank it off the cadet.

Carson
now sprinted to his side.

“Oh
god, Harper,” Sharpe said under his breath. His anger was obvious,
but so was his compassion. With one look at the man, you could see
his features were pale and drawn. He immediately used his wrist
device to check her vitals, then made a quick call to the medical
bay.

Harper
was unconscious.

Her
head lolled to one side, her hair a mess over her shoulder as the
clip that had fixed it lay broken beside her.

With a
powerful kick of fear, Carson noticed a trickle of blood trailing
down the side of her parted lips.

She'd
just been struck by a speeding training block.

She
was lucky to be alive.

“Blake, you deal with my students,” Sharpe snapped as he stood
over Harper protectively, waiting for the medical team to arrive.
“And figure out what just happened,” he growled under his
breath.

Carson
wanted to point out he could take Harper to the medical bay, but he
soon realised Sharpe had no intention of letting him. For all
Sharpe's apparent hatred of Harper, he clearly felt responsible for
her too, and right now, he looked exactly like a protective father.
So, silently Carson stood back, watching as the medical team rushed
in, placed Harper on a hovering stretcher, and took her
away.

For
far too long Carson stood there staring at the doors as they closed
behind Sharpe.

Then
he shook his head and forced himself to turn.

“Oh
no, what did I do?” Cadet J’Etem croaked as she clapped her hands
over her lips. Her eyes were wide and trembling with
tears.

He
turned to her and slowly glanced out at the rest of the
cadets.

Everyone looked surprised.

And
fair enough, though you often did have training accidents, that had
been . . . terrible. That block had shot off
towards Harper with unfathomable speed.

It
could have killed her.

If
Sharpe hadn’t managed to disengage the block and pull it from her
chest, it would have.

“What
did I do?” J’Etem whimpered again.

Even
though Cadet J’Etem was a particularly skilled TI practitioner,
Carson knew she hadn’t caused the accident. She didn’t have the
power or the skill.

“It's
fine,” he tried, giving J’Etem what he hoped was a commiserating
nod, “she’ll be fine,” he added under his breath.

“What
happened?” one of the other cadets asked, walking over to the
offending training block. It still lay exactly where Sharpe had
dumped it after pulling it off Harper's chest.

Frowning, Carson walked up to it and looked down. He lifted it
up and turned it around in his hands.

It
looked and felt normal, and as he quickly scanned it with his wrist
device, he realised there wasn't anything overtly wrong with it.
“It'll have to be tested. It's probably
just . . . an imbalance in the magnetised
material,” he tried, realising his explanation sounded implausible.
Right now, he couldn’t come up with anything better
though.

“I'm
so sorry,” Cadet J’Etem said, her hands still gripped over her
mouth as her stunning eyes widened further.

“It
wasn't your fault. This was an accident,” Carson told her with a
firm nod. “Now, I’m cancelling this class. Return to your rooms,
and head to your next class when it's time.” With that, he nodded
at Cadet J’Etem once more, hooked the training block under his arm,
and headed for the doors. He’d take the block to one of the labs,
to see if it really was malfunctioning in some way. Then he'd head
up to the medical bay to see how Harper was.

Unfortunately something came up, and by the time he reached
the medical facility later that afternoon, Harper had already been
discharged. Though the training block had broken several of her
ribs and given her extensive internal bleeding, the wonders of
modern medical technology had fixed her up immediately.

Apparently, she’d already been sent home.

Feeling disappointed that he hadn't been able to see her,
Carson promised himself that at the next opportunity he would get,
he would drop in to see how she was.

And
yes, this time he would find the time to ask exactly what had
happened down on that planet and what exactly she had been dreaming
of.

Cadet
Nida Harper

She
sat on the edge of her bed, pressing her fingers into her
ribs.

They'd
been fixed, but they still tingled.

Unpleasantly.

In
fact, her whole body vibrated with pins and needles.

Pressing her lips together, she indulged in a
groan.

Wow,
hadn't today been one for the books.

She
was usually unlucky, but this was extreme, even for her.

Not
only had she overslept again, only to fall asleep under a tree
rather than getting to class, she'd been knocked out in the
training centre.

At
least that hadn't been her fault though.

It had
been an accident. One that no one was able to explain to her.
Nobody had made that block go scooting across the training centre
to wallop her on the chest, so the prevailing theory was that the
block itself had malfunctioned.

She'd
never heard of TI blocks malfunctioning, but she wasn't exactly the
most knowledgeable cadet out there.

Pushing herself up, she let out a breath, being careful not to
extend her chest out too much as she did.

Though
her muscles didn't ache, it felt weird to move them.

Because every damn thing felt weird.

Again,
for about the millionth time, she brought up her left hand and
stared at it.

She
was still dimly aware of the terrible dream she'd had under the oak
tree that morning. But it was fading.

She
could recall that writhing blue energy biting its way into her palm
and fingers though, and it made her shudder.

“Come
on,” she told herself through gritted teeth, “you have to do your
assignments.”

She
couldn't put them off any longer. She was getting further and
further behind. What was worse, she'd missed all afternoon due to
her injury.

She
slowly slouched over to her desk, neatened what she could, then
stuck her tongue out as she considered the display on the hovering
holographic computer screen. It sat about several centimetres above
her desk, tipped at an angle so she could see it properly. Right
now it displayed an enormous list of stuff she had to catch up
on.

She
tried closing her eyes, but when she opened them, the assignments
hadn't disappeared.

The
last thing she wanted to do right now was work. She would prefer to
make herself an enormous bowl of ramen and fold up on the couch
watching holo movies. She couldn't though. She had to catch
up.

So she
sucked in a breath, stiffened her back, forced her chin to jut out,
and got to work.

She
did what she could, keeping the boring tasks until last.

And
the boring tasks were always the same for her.

TI
practice.

Ah,
she hated it.

No
matter how hard she tried, she never progressed. Everyone—including
Sharpe—believed that with just enough sweat and tears, anyone could
master their implant. Well she had sweated and she had cried, but
she was still at the bottom of the pile.

She
stood up, marching over to her bedside table and picking up the
tiny, itty-bitty TI cube she was meant to use for
practice.

Fresh
new cadets learnt to master the use of this itty-bitty cube in
their first week.

She
still had trouble lifting it out of its case.

Sitting roughly on her bed, she shot the cube a merciless
glare as it sat there, offending her by its mere
existence.

Contrary to popular belief, Nida was not lazy. She tried her
hardest. It just so happened that her hardest was never good
enough.

She
hadn't given up yet. And that was something. But it was still
seriously demoralising every time she had to face her utter
incompetence with the use of her TI.

“Okay,” she breathed dramatically, tipping her head back and
rolling her eyes at the ceiling, as if it agreed with her that all
TI blocks were lame. “Come on,” she reached forward and pressed the
button that would disengage the TI block from its
pedestal.

There
was a slight beep and a flash of yellow light.

Yellow
light.

She
knew it was yellow.

Yet
for a heart pounding instant, she thought it was blue.

She
blinked, even pressing her fingers into her closed eyelids. “What
the hell is wrong with you?” she muttered, winking one eye open to
confirm the light was most certainly yellow.

“You're tired, you're stressed, and you spent the afternoon
being coaxed back from death,” she answered her own question. And
it was a pretty good answer. There was nothing wrong with her,
other than that which she had already stated.

Feeling relieved at that conclusion, she leaned forward and
spread the fingers of her right palm over the top of the TI block.
Her hand hovered several centimetres above the block, and with a
commanding thought, she tried to force the block to jump up into
her grip.

It
didn't work.

It
never worked.

But
before she could give up and flop back down, something incredible
happened.

The
block began to spin.

Fast.

Blindingly fast.

In
fact, the force of it rattled the bedside table.

“What
the . . . ?” she began, pushing herself back on
her bed.

Then
the block shot towards her.

She
had just enough time to push her hand out to grab it before it
slammed into her chest.

Then
she held it.

Surprise slackened her jaw.

Had
she just . . . moved the block on her
own?

She
slowly brought her palm out, opened the fingers, and stared at the
little cube.

With a
gulp, she set it back on her bedside table, then she pushed her
hand out again. With a silent command, she imagined the block
jumping up and flying into her grip.

It
did.

Fast.

In
fact, the speed of it threw her backwards until she banged against
the wall behind her bed.

“What?” she gasped, staring at the block tightly clasped in
her fist.

Then
she offered a quick, nervous laugh.