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He
chuckled under his breath as he walked past, then he
stopped.

He
recognised the black, unruly, spring-like hair.

Cadet
Harper.

While
he obviously didn't know much about her timetable, he could bet she
was meant to be in class, and not snoozing under a tree.

He
cleared his throat.

She
didn't wake up.

In
fact, she looked deeply, deeply asleep. Apart from her soft,
percussive breathing, the only thing that moved was her left hand.
It slowly twitched, as if she were trying to hold onto
something.

She
had an unnatural, restless silence about her, and he couldn't help
but frown as he stood there and watched.

Then
she whispered something.

He
couldn't hear it properly, as it was little more than a mumble, but
the quality of her tone lifted the fine hairs on the back of his
neck and arms.

Realising he could hardly stand there and watch her sleep when
he knew she should be in class, he cleared his throat again. When
that didn't work, he shifted forward and pushed the toe of her boot
with his own.

She
snapped up, as if she'd been struck.

Planting her hands next to her and pushing her back off the
tree, she jolted forward with a full-bodied twitch.

He
actually jumped back, and as he did, he stared at her eyes as they
shot open.

For
just a second, for one simple second, he thought he saw something
dancing in her pupils. Something that shouldn't be there. A flash
of blue.

But
again, he dismissed it immediately.

She
looked completely disoriented as she stared down at her hands,
around her, up at the tree, then over to him.

“You
were sleeping,” he supplied with a cough.

“What?” her voice was far off, and she quickly turned from
him, staring down at the hand that had been twitching during her
slumber. She appeared to consider it as if it somehow didn’t belong
to her.

“Are
you . . . okay?” he tried slowly.

Eventually she shook her head, looked back up at him, clearly
realised who he was, and started to blush.
“Oh . . . god . . . sorry,
Lieutenant Blake.”

“I
think you should probably get to class,” he managed after a long
and extremely awkward pause.

“Class?” she asked, her confusion apparent. Then realisation
clearly struck her, and she bolted to her feet. She swore
loudly.

He
could have reprimanded her for it, but he didn't. Instead, he
swallowed a small smile. “Didn’t you sleep properly last night?” he
asked, realising the question was lame, but figuring he had to say
something.

“I . . . ,” she looked at him, then turned
around, glanced at her hand, and shook her head. “I have to get to
class.” She brushed the grass off her uniform, then turned around,
staring at the buildings behind him as if she were trying to get
her bearings.

When
he realised she was about to rush off, he pushed a hand out. “Hold
on,” he began, realising this was a perfect opportunity to ask her
some questions, “there’s something I need to talk to you
about.”

She
didn't glance his way as she brought up her wristwatch and typed
something into it. She clearly had no idea where she was meant to
be, but with another particularly bitter cuss, she began to rush
off across the grounds.

“Hold
on,” he repeated as he jogged to catch up.

“Oh
no,” she muttered under her breath, “he's going to kill
me.”

“Who's
going to kill you?” Carson easily kept pace beside her.

“Commander Sharpe,” she groaned. “I am already on reprimand.
Oh dammit, why the hell did I go to sleep under that tree?” She
searched around herself frantically, as if she'd forgotten her
way.

“Where
are you meant to be?” he asked helpfully.

“Training Centre Alpha-2,” she looked down at her wristwatch
again for confirmation. “I'm not very good with directions,” she
added needlessly, “and I’ve only been in the training centre once
before.”

“It's
this way,” he said as he waved her forward.

He
really didn't know why he was helping her get to class. He’d just
caught her napping under a tree, and knew it was his duty to
reprimand her for shirking off one of Sharpe’s tutorials. Instead,
he led her on, confidently walking through the halls as she
awkwardly strode beside him.

Occasionally he would glance her way to note that her
expression swung periodically between embarrassment and
something . . . else.

Fear.

Panic
of some description.

She
kept looking at her left hand too. Pumping it back and forth as if
she’d lost circulation to it.

“What
were you dreaming of?” he found himself asking suddenly and
possibly a little rudely.

She
blinked as they entered the long corridor that led directly to
Training Centre Alpha-2. “Sorry?”

He
cleared his throat. “Before, under the tree, you looked like you
were dreaming. You even said something under your
breath . . . . So I was just
wondering . . . never mind,” he grimaced at how
dumb he sounded.

“I
wasn't dreaming,” she answered with an almost dead tone. “And thank
you for directing me here, Lieutenant,” she nodded, even offering a
salute. And though every other move she made was ungainly and
uncoordinated, the salute was snapped, sharp, and proper. For some
strange reason, he felt compelled to give one in reply.

Then
she scooted off without another word.

He
desperately wanted to know what she had dreamt of, and what was
wrong with her left hand, and, come to think of it, what exactly
had happened to her down on Remus 12, but she turned and ran to
class without even glancing over her shoulder towards
him.

He
stood there, staring at the enormous black doors of the training
centre she'd just run through.

“Ha,”
he muttered under his breath. “This is just weird,” he admitted
objectively. Then he shook his head, realising he had other things
to do, and forced himself to walk away.

He
didn't get far.

Just
as he rounded the corner, Sharpe came marching up towards him.
“Blake, just who I’ve been looking for. My other tutor for this
session is sick, and I need somebody to stand in right now. You
don't look busy. Are you busy?” he asked pointedly.

If it
were anybody else asking that question, Blake would have brushed
them off. He was leader of the Force, after all, and could easily
come up with an excuse to get out of most things.

But
Commander Sharpe was Commander Sharpe, and Blake owed it to him.
So, with a groan, he admitted he wasn't, and Sharpe took him by the
arm, turned him around, and shoved him forward. “I know this is a
little bit below your level of expertise, Lieutenant, but I need
you to help me demonstrate class I TI weapons to some of my
students.”

Blake’s eyebrows twitched up. “Class I?”

“Yes,
yes, I know, child's play for you, but just humour me. I can't find
another tutor, and I really don't want to cancel the class. I'm
late as it is.”

As
Sharpe marched him forward, Blake quickly realised they were headed
to Training Centre Alpha-2.

With a
soft chuckle, he smiled.

Cadet
Harper was in there, and if Sharpe was late, the class hadn't
started yet, which meant she wouldn’t get in trouble.

Lucky
for her.

And
the poor cadet really looked as though she could use some luck
right now.

Once
Sharpe marched him through the doors, Blake's presence was met with
instant and excited muttering.

This
training centre was an enormous complex. A room of about 200 meters
by 200 meters, it had enough space to allow budding cadets to learn
the intricacies of TI weapons. It also had enough defensive
parameters in place to stop them from doing harm to themselves or
anybody else.

Because TI weapons, in untrained hands, were dangerous
things.

“All
right, listen up,” Sharpe announced as he walked into the centre of
his class, “today we are lucky enough to have a true master with
us,” he gestured towards Blake.

Carson
forced himself to lift a hand and wave to the class, but he winced
as he did. Why did people always refer to him as a master? He was
just a guy, for god's sake.

The
class practically gave a collective cry of joy. Well, almost
everybody did.

Carson
found himself focusing on one cadet standing a little way from the
group, shuffling her feet and staring at her left hand.

Cadet
Harper.

She
had such a confused expression on her face, and again it seemed
that she was staring at her palm as if it didn't belong to
her.

“Alright, class, spread out, you know the drill,” Sharpe
snapped. “Everybody pick up their class I weapons. Harper, you're
with me,” Sharpe added tersely at the end.

Harper
looked up, her expression crumpling with obvious
disappointment.

As her
shoulders slumped, she walked past Carson without another look,
heading towards Sharpe.

Carson
turned on his foot to watch Harper and Sharpe head over to a
different section of the training hall, where the far simpler TI
objects were kept. The stuff they used for the first-year cadets,
the kids who had only recently received their TI
implants.

Was
Sharpe simply reprimanding her by not allowing her to use the
weapons, or had she never progressed?

Considering that question briefly, he came up with the answer
all too readily.

She'd
never progressed.

Though
she seemed friendly and sweet, she really didn't come across as a
competent cadet.

All
too soon Carson found himself demonstrating class I weapons, and
the students around him did their best to follow his
example.

He was
admittedly distracted though.

He
kept staring over at Sharpe as he tersely snapped at Harper to try
harder. She was barely capable of shifting a small TI block off the
floor. Though her face was deeply furrowed with concentration, no
matter how hard she appeared to try, she just couldn't do
it.

Sharpe
looked practically apoplectic, and kept telling her she was worse
than she usually was.

Though
Carson kept half an eye on her, he knew he couldn't allow himself
to become completely distracted. Even though he was only dealing
with class I weapons, he had to watch the rest of the students in
case they had any accidents.

That
being said, they all appeared to be quite talented, and one in
particular was a cut above the rest.

Cadet
J’Etem.

He
recognised her from the Remus 12 mission. She was a friend of Cadet
Harper, and had already been selected as a potential recruit for
the Force.

Her
command of class I weapons was astounding.

Without any tutelage from him, she managed to pick up three
blocks, and spin them around herself with impressive speed. Though
he could easily thrust out a hand to catch one, with practice,
she’d be able to propel the blocks so fast they’d be able to crash
through walls.

The
blocks were about 30 centimetres square, and made of completely
smooth gunmetal-grey stone. Well, he said stone—in reality, they
were pure telekinetic magnetised material. The very stuff TI
implants operated on.

Still,
even though they were only class I weapons, Cadet J’Etem had a good
handle over them.

“That's great,” Carson managed as he smiled at her.

Demurely, she offered a shy smile of her own. “Thank you; I’ve
been practising hard.”

“That's great to hear,” he said, realising he’d said great
twice, as if he didn’t have the brain cells to think of another
word.

Someone sniggered at his side, and he turned to see it was
Sharpe.

“How's
it going, tutor?” Sharpe asked with a pointed look.

“Fine,” Blake said.

“Cadet
J’Etem here is one of our finest TI specialists,” Sharpe pointed
out needlessly.

Carson
already knew that, though he liked the polite smile J’Etem gave at
the compliment.

“It's
nothing, really,” she managed, “I'm nowhere as good as I should
be.”

“Don't
be humble, Cadet; you've put in the hard yards, and it has paid
off. Unlike some,” Sharpe said as he shot Cadet Harper a stern look
over his shoulder.

Harper, for her part, looked as if she'd given up. Several
training blocks were strewn at her feet, but she didn't appear to
have the ability to shift even one of them.

“You
know, I could try to give her a hand,” Carson offered as he nodded
Harper's way.

Sharpe
gave out a laugh like a bullet blast, “don't waste your time,” he
said simply.