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“I
have no problem,” he supplied, realising that was possibly the most
awkward thing he could say, and quickly admonishing himself
silently.

“Okay,” she said in a high-toned voice.

To
demonstrate his point, Carson now proceeded to take off his tunic
top. It was the same uniform he had been wearing since the Academy.
Though he could have changed into other clothes aboard the
Farsight, he hadn't bothered yet. Well, now he pulled it off,
realising his skin really was flushed as he did.

Trying
to ignore it, he dumped the top on the floor by his chair, and
quickly distracted himself by tending to his wound.

With
the top off, he could see just how bruised he was. His shoulder was
purple and blue, and in places, black. He had received a
considerable blunt trauma. While the armour had stopped the blade
from cutting into his skin, and it had disbursed the impact, it had
not protected him entirely. And now he clamped hard on his jaw as
he palpated the injury.

“Why
don't you just give yourself a localised anaesthetic?” Nida asked,
her voice still high pitched.

He
glanced up at her. She was standing several meters away, with her
hands clasped very properly in front of her, staring at her
feet.

“I . . . well,” he began.

“Look,
I have done this many times before. Let me do it,” she announced,
taking a jerky step forward.

He
wanted to tell her not to bother, but he didn't get the chance; she
stumbled over to him, grabbed the first aid kit off his lap, and
started administering to his wound.

Very
quickly and very professionally. Because she was likely right, she
had done this numerous, numerous times before.

She
gave him a localised anaesthetic, then discarded the nano bandage
he'd selected, and rummaged around until she found one to her
liking. “Those other ones absorb into the skin and leave a dreadful
tingle,” she announced, explaining her decision, “these ones
don't.” She carefully applied the bandage, patting the edge of it
down until it stuck completely.

It
took him awhile to realise he was holding his breath.

And he
didn't know why.

Okay,
maybe he did; there was a glowing blue woman attending to his
wound, and that wasn't something that happened every other
day.

Now
she was up close to him, he could see how alive the energy encasing
her was. The light didn't simply glow; it moved, it danced, it
jumped up from her flesh, travelled several centimetres, then dived
down again. It was a lively, engaging pattern, and before too long,
he found himself staring at her neck, then her hands.

She
cleared her throat. “It's all finished.”

He
doubled back, trying to pretend he hadn't been staring. “Great, I
mean, thanks,” he added as he brought up his good hand to check the
bandage.

He had
to admit, she'd done a pretty good job. If the Academy didn't work
out for her, then maybe she could go into the medical sciences. He
could see her as a nurse or doctor . . . .
Okay, maybe he couldn't. She would likely trip over her patients
and fly head-first through the window.

She
took several steps back, clasped her hands in front of her again,
then looked over at the view screen.

It
took him a moment to realise she was waiting for him to put his
shirt back on.

He
cleared his throat, feeling like a complete idiot, then practically
jumped off the chair, snatched it up, and crammed it over his head
as quickly as he could.

“Thanks,” he said again.

But
she didn't turn to him and she didn't respond. Instead, she stared,
without blinking, at the view screen.

“Nida?” he asked in a quiet, cautious tone.

Again,
she didn't reply. That blue light in her eyes flashed, and he knew
the entity must be taking hold.

“We
will arrive there shortly,” he reassured it.

Now
she turned. Now she faced him. “I hope it will be that easy,” the
entity said.

The
hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, and a fresh wash of
fear rushed through him. “It will be. This is Coalition space, and
though we ran into those Barbarian ships, there won't be any more.
Plus, I don't think they will be bothering you again,” he added,
his voice shaking with disbelief. He could remember, in perfect
detail, how the entity had dispatched those Barbarians.

With
bone-chilling efficiency.

Whatever the entity was, it was powerful. Yet if it was right,
it was also incredibly dangerous. If it stayed much longer in this
space-time, it would corrupt. And from the brief explanation Carson
had been given, corruption didn't sound like a good
thing.

Taking
a breath and re-engaging his resolve, he nodded at her. “Everything
will be fine,” he promised once more.

The
entity stiffened, then he realised it wasn't the entity any
more.—it was Nida. She looked uncomfortable for a moment, then
shook her head. “It's very strange . . . having
something in your mind that can control your body,” she
admitted.

He
wanted to laugh and point out that was an understatement, but he
didn't. Instead he watched her in silence, then gave what he hoped
was a commiserating nod. “We're almost there,” he pointed out
uselessly. God, he felt like he was simply repeating the same empty
statements over and over again. It will all be okay; we're almost
there; everything will be fine soon. He probably sounded as if he'd
hit his head.

“I
think I might . . . have a shower,” Nida
announced.

Carson
went to say sure, but shook his head. He didn't want her going into
the rest of the ship.

She
saw his movement, and her eyebrows crumpled down. “It's okay,” she
began,” I can . . . ,” she trailed
off.

“The
Barbarian bodies,” he took a long time to say the word bodies, “are
still out there,” he finally admitted to her. “Maybe you should
stay in here.”

Even
under the blue, incandescent glow of her cheeks, he swore she
paled. Her gaze drifted down to the ground, and she stared at her
shoes. Then she shook her head. “I . . . am
okay,” she began. “What am I saying? I killed those men,” she
brought her hands up and stared at them.

Once
he'd been hesitant to touch her, but now that didn't seem to matter
any more. He crossed the distance between them, grabbed her hands,
and pushed them down.

She
didn't jerk back, but she did shift her head up until she looked at
him.

“Just
don't think about it. Don't think about anything until we get to
Remus 12. And I know you want a shower and maybe a fresh change of
clothes,” he mumbled as he looked down at her. Firstly, she was
wearing a hospital gown. Secondly, it had blast marks over it, and
there were holes peppered here and there. “So just
wait . . . until
I . . . deal with the stuff outside,” he
gestured over his shoulder to the rest of the ship.

She
looked as though she would be sick.

“You
didn't kill them,” he said through clenched teeth, his words
sounding far more dismayed than he'd intended.

Though
her gaze flashed with guilt, she eventually closed her eyes. “I
could have stopped it,” she admitted, “I managed to stop it from
killing you. Which meant that if I had tried just a little harder,
or cared a little more, I could have stopped it from killing the
Barbarians too.”

He
spluttered. He couldn't help it. “Listen to yourself. If you had
stopped the entity from killing the Barbarians, the Barbarians
would have killed you. They aren't nice, caring people, Nida. They
are violent, homicidal, vicious psychopaths. Do you want me to go
through the number of crimes they have committed? Would you like me
to list the number of worlds they have ransacked? Should I tell you
what happened a couple of years ago when they managed to get their
hands on a Coalition heavy cruiser and all its crew?”

She
shuddered back, but he still held hold of her hand.

“I
know this is hard, but really, just don't think about it. And thank
you,” he added in a husky voice at the end.

This
made her look up. She locked her shifting, wavering gaze on him.
“For what?” she mouthed the words, clearly incapable of saying
them.

“For
saving me. For stopping . . . the entity,” he
managed.

It was
so strange to speak of the entity whilst it was right there inside
her, and could take control of her at any moment. But it didn't
matter. He wanted to reach out and communicate with Nida right now;
he needed to reassure her.

Though
she did not look happy and guilt still flashed in her eyes, she
finally took a deep breath. “You shouldn't have to deal with
the . . . bodies on your own,” she
whispered.

“No,”
he said firmly, “I will deal with them on my own. I need somebody
here to look after the bridge,” he added, coming up with a quick
and very effective excuse. “Academy regulations state that when a
crew consists of two or more people, there should always be at
least one manning the bridge. And that, Cadet, will be
you.”

She
opened her mouth, clearly ready to argue the point.

He
shook his head, finally dropping her hand. “I'm afraid that's an
order,” he said in a lower tone close to a growl, but nowhere near
as angry.

She
pursed her lips together and finally nodded.

She
took several steps away from him, pushing her hair behind her ears
as she did.

It was
such a dramatic sight to see her encased in that blue
light.

It was
easy to allow himself to be fully distracted by it. To be
completely mesmerised.

He
wanted the time and opportunity to assess that light, to watch it
as it danced over her skin. He of course would not get the time,
and he certainly wouldn't get the opportunity. Things were awkward
enough between them as it was without sitting there and staring at
her face for several hours.

Gulping at his own uncomfortable thought, he finally turned
around and walked out.

As the
doors to the bridge closed behind him, his heart closed with
them.

He had
seen dead bodies before. It was part of space travel.

Yes,
things were safer now than they had been in the past. Ships didn't
decompress as much; the technology was vastly superior to the bad
old days of initial interstellar travel. There were also less wars
and violent disputes. But that didn't mean that every Coalition
soldier would always be safe.

So
yes, he had seen his fair share of death, and unfortunately, he had
meted it out too.

But it
never made it easy.

Especially dealing with the aftermath.

With a
heavy breath and heavy footsteps, he toured the ship.

He
didn't even want to count how many Barbarians there were. Instead,
he attended to the grisly task of dealing with their
bodies.

At
some point, the entity had stopped pinning them to the ceiling or
the walls, and they were now all flopped face first on the floor.
There were several bodies, however, that he was responsible for,
and as he walked up to the Barbarian he had shot outside of his
bedroom, Carson had to slam a hand on his stomach not to throw up
everywhere.

The
stench was . . . simply indefinable. It was on
a scale the human nose was not designed to tolerate.

It
made him gag.

But
somehow, he pushed through.

Though
the Barbarians were, by definition, barbaric when it came to the
disposal of enemy bodies, he worked for the United Galactic
Coalition. And he respected the rights of the dead.

It
took almost half an hour, and by the time it was over, he felt
heavy and cold all over.

He
also realised he couldn't return to the bridge. Not looking and
feeling like this. So instead, he set about the task of assessing
the damage to the ship. He also took the opportunity to remove all
TI objects he could. He didn’t want any on board with Nida. So he
gathered them up and locked them deep within one of the armoury
cupboards.

He
simply could not run the risk of another accident. Plus, even if
the inconceivable happened, and more Barbarians attacked, the TI
objects and weapons would be of no use; the Barbarians all
possessed technology capable of blocking TI fields. There were only
certain races who couldn’t block TI fields, and unfortunately,
those brutes weren’t one of them.

Nonetheless, it would be an inconvenience; TI objects could be
used to make many ship processes more efficient.

Still,
if it meant stopping more accidents, he’d throw those damn objects
out of the airlock. He simply couldn’t put up with another TI block
or pole trying to impale her.

Gathering up all the TI objects on the ship, he soon made it
to the engine room.

As he
entered, he expected to see a mess.

What
he saw instead was a strange, pulsing, blue light flickering around
the dual engine cores.