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She
smiled, sucking at her teeth as she did in what was perhaps the
geekiest move she could make.

She
couldn’t help herself.

Because, well, this . . . was weird. And
awkward, really, hideously awkward.

“Sorry
again,” she managed, backing off, realising she had to get away
before she tripped over her own legs and crumpled at his
feet.

Then
she heard a voice behind her.

One
that rumbled up like a volcano splitting the earth.

Commander Sharpe.

She
winced again, this time as if she were about to be chopped in
half.

Because likely she would be.

She
turned to see him march up beside her.

“Late
again,” he said tersely, “do you deliberately go out of your way to
earn reprimands from me?”

She
wanted to ask whether he deliberately went out of his way to
torture her, but she held her tongue. “No, sir,” she answered,
knowing exactly what he wanted to hear. “I
just . . . ,” she trailed off. She could come
up with all sorts of outlandish excuses, like being chased by
mercenaries, or waking up on a foreign planet and having to find
her way back to class in a jiffy. They were all lies though. But at
least they’d hide the truth, because the truth was truly
pathetic.

She
had overslept.

“Don't
bother,” Sharpe sighed heavily, “just report to detention, again,”
he spoke to her with a long-suffering tone, and shot her a look
that made it clear he was sick of dealing with her
antics.

She
turned around glumly, barely noticing as Blake offered her a
friendly, commiserating smile.

Her
heart sunk at how much trouble she was about to get in.

What
was worse, she had a mound of assignments. It had taken her longer
than usual to bounce back from her fall on Remus 12. The broken
bone had knitted quickly, and the medical team had dealt with the
concussion as fast as Coalition doctors could. But it had taken her
several days of rest until her mind had come back to
her.

For
those several days a strange fog had descended over her, and the
doctors had explained it away by theorising she was just tired and
stressed.

Now,
she was even more tired and even more stressed.

Walking to her next class, she settled into a melancholic
slump.

The
rest of the day passed, thankfully without further incident, and
soon enough she found herself back in her quarters.

She
did not enter her apartment to peace, however, for Alicia was
running around frantically.

As
soon as Nida entered, Alicia snapped up, her expression filling
with relief. “There you are. I was worried you would never return.
Now you can help me clean,” she announced at once. “This place is a
tip.”

Nida
stood there for a moment, raising her eyebrow slightly. She didn't
exactly have the gumption to point out to Alicia that there was
nothing stopping the woman from cleaning up after herself. Because
one look around this room would confirm that every dirty dish,
mound of clothes, or pile of data pads on the couch belonged to
Alicia. Nida cleaned up after herself, hell, she’d even managed to
do it over the past several days whilst she’d been
convalescing.

“Don't
just stand there,” Alicia announced, her irritation clear as she
whisked a hand towards the couch and pointed at an enormous pile of
clothes. “Help me move those into my room.”

Mutely, Nida walked over, grabbed the clothes, and marched
them into Alicia’s pigsty of a bedroom.

“Why
exactly are we doing this?” Nida asked as she walked back into the
main room.

“Boys,” Alicia answered clearly.

Nida
rolled her eyes. Why had she bothered to ask? There was only one
thing Alicia cared about, and that was men.

There
was also only one thing she ever bothered cleaning the apartment
for. Men, again.

Usually Alicia didn't invite any guys back to their apartment
because it was such a tip, that and Nida hated walking in from a
long hard day at the Academy to find her flat mate rolling around
on the couch with her latest catch.

“Oh,
don't look at me like that,” Alicia actually stamped her foot.
“They are just coming here before we go out. We'll be out of your
hair pretty quick,” she fobbed a hand Nida's way as she walked over
to the enormous pile of dirty dishes in the sink.

“They?” Nida asked as she narrowed her eyes. “You mean, you
have more than one date?”

Alicia
harrumphed. “No, I've organised a double date.”

For a
moment, Nida stood there, stock still, fear rising through her
belly like a tidal wave.

Alicia
clearly saw Nida’s shocked expression, and she tipped her head back
and laughed. “Oh my god, not for you, not for you,” she emphasised
as she chuckled even harder. “For Bridget. Don't be an idiot,”
Alicia walked past her and clasped a hand on her shoulder, “I would
never organise a double date for you.”

Nida
didn't know whether to be relieved or insulted, so she decided
ignoring Alicia was best, and she picked her way through the open
kitchen towards her room.

The
apartment was split into three rooms. The enormous shared living
space in the middle that had a lounge, kitchen, and a big table
directed at that enormous view through the plate glass windows. On
either side of that room were Alicia and Nida's bedrooms. Both
bedrooms had their own bathrooms, personal computers, beds, and
storage spaces.

If it
weren't for Alicia's mess, this place would be beautiful, but you
didn't get to pick your roommates at the Academy.

“Hey,
what are you doing? Come back here and help me clean up this mess,”
Alicia demanded.

“Look,
I've had a really long day, and I’m still feeling kind
of . . . funny,” Nida managed with a
swallow.

“Oh,
get over it. I know you fell over and bumped your head,” Alicia
gave a surprised laugh, clearly amused that someone could do
themselves so much damage by tripping up, “but that was several
days ago, and the doctors gave you the all clear yesterday. Now you
have no excuse, so help me clean up your mess.”

“My
mess?” Nida challenged in a rare moment of bravery.

Alicia
opened her mouth to say yes, but clearly thought better of it. “Our
mess,” she tried instead. “Now hurry.”

“Why?
When will they get here?” Nida turned to look at the door, ready to
see several bright and handsome cadets sweep in to vie for Alicia’s
attention.

Alicia
was stunning. The kind of stunning that knew it was stunning, and
leveraged every favour from that fact.

“Oh,
they’re not coming tonight; they’re coming tomorrow night. But I
have to go out soon, so we need to clean now,” Alicia
announced.

Nida
closed her eyes for a moment, pursed her lips, and blew a breath of
air against her ragged fringe. “I'm tired, and I need a shower.
I’ll clean up later,” she winked one eye open to see Alicia
standing there with her hands on her hips.

“No,
we’re cleaning now. You can shower later.”

With a
fresh new groan at how terrible her life was, Nida didn't complain
any further, and got to work. Whilst Alicia faffed around, Nida did
all the real work, and soon enough the apartment was
sparkling.

“Okay,
fantastic,” Alicia clapped her hands together. “Everything is ready
for tomorrow.”

Nida
walked towards her bedroom door, but paused before she opened it.
She turned around to consider her flat mate. “Why exactly do you
care so much? You go out on dates all the time. Why are these guys
any different?”

Alicia's eyes sparkled with a particularly frightening
fervour. She took on such a strong and powerful and triumphant
stance that it looked as if she were about to preside over the
conquering of the galaxy. “They are graduates. Full lieutenants, in
fact,” she said, that smile of hers reminding Nida of a rabid
dog.

Rolling her eyes, Nida now understood.

“Oh,
whatever,” Alicia snapped. “Now go and have your shower. And if you
can make yourself scarce tomorrow night, it would be greatly
appreciated.”

Nida
shook her head. “I promise you, I have no intention of coming out
of my room tomorrow to interrupt your double date with Bridget and
a pair of lieutenants,” she noted sharply as she walked through her
door and it closed behind her.

Reaching her bed, she gave her pillow a firm, almost petulant
punch. Then she hugged it in both arms, squished her face into it,
and groaned. Loudly.

She
was lucky that these rooms were relatively soundproof, otherwise
Alicia would be pounding on the door and screaming at her to shut
up.

After
several minutes of punching her pillow and groaning into it, Nida
finally grew a backbone, sat up, and told herself it was time to
get over it.

Yes,
she was unlucky, yes, she'd gotten in trouble today for sleeping
in, but what help would moping about it do?

The
answer was it wouldn't help at all.

Forcing herself at least to try to do a few of her outstanding
assignments, it wasn't long until Nida finally went to
bed.

She
slept like a log, as always. But every now and then throughout the
night she would wake, her eyes forcing themselves open as if the
lids had been dragged apart by speeding cruisers. And though she
could not tell it, little flashes of blue light erupted deep within
the pupils with the brilliance of supernovas in a starless
sky.

Carson
Blake

He was
bored. Completely and utterly bored. He couldn't think of anything
worse than preparing for a lecture.

He had
never once considered a career as an academic, yet for some damn
reason, they continually invited him back to give talks to the
undergrads.

As he
paced in front of the enormous floor-to-ceiling windows in his
apartment, he tried not to look at his reflection.

Because he looked like an idiot.

“Okay,
class,” he began in his fake teacher-like tone, “the correct use of
your telekinetic implant takes time. But with the following
exercises, and a lot of diligent practice, you will soon find
yourself getting better,” he gave a fake smile, then made the
mistake of glancing at his reflection and realising just how dumb
he looked.

Swearing, he took a step back, flopped a hand at the window,
and walked over to the couch. With a groan, he let his knees
buckle, and he fell with a soft thump onto it. Reaching for one of
the cushions, he banged his head against it.

“I
shouldn't be here,” he whispered aloud, his voice croaky and
smothered by the soft fabric around his mouth.

Though
he understood the importance of teaching the new wave of cadets
coming through the Galactic Coalition Academy, surely his skills
could be better utilised elsewhere?

Like
back on that damn planet, Remus 12.

When
the United Galactic Coalition Council had put together the mission,
they’d called it a simple exploratory operation. But that was
clearly crap, because you didn't send the Force along to something
as wimpy as an exploratory operation.

Not
unless you expected trouble.

. . . .

So why
exactly had the United Galactic Coalition Council sent the Force to
that remote, desolate, wasteland of a planet then?

It had
been a waste of everybody's time, and that random cadet with the
unruly black hair had injured herself.

Had
injured herself . . . .

How?

Not
for the first time and not for the last, he pushed himself up and
pondered that fact.

She'd
received a broken rib for god's sake. How exactly did you give
yourself one of those by tripping over?

While
everybody else had been willing to accept the probability she’d
just fallen over, he wasn't. Because it didn't make any sense. How
exactly did you break your rib and give yourself a serious
concussion by tripping yourself up?

Cadet—what was her name? Cadet Harper, yes, that's it, Cadet
Harper—seemed like a serious klutz, granted, but she’d fractured
the back of her skull and had broken her rib just below the
sternum. How had she done that? Had she rolled down a rocky
incline? Had she taken a tumble off a cliff?

No—he’d found her on flat ground, with nothing but dust all
around her.

. . . .

Blake
shook his head.

He had
a lecture to prepare for, and the United Galactic Coalition Council
had hinted they were about to send the Force on an extremely
important mission. Yet here he was, wondering how a simple little
cadet could beat herself up so bad.

“Get
over it,” he growled at himself.

Then
the computer in his room gave a beep and reminded him in a bored,
electronic tone that he had half an hour to finish preparing his
lecture and get to class.