Sampson Ventura
That had been hard – as hard as any mission he’d ever gone on.
Turning from Diana and walking away had been like sticking his boot in.
Sampson felt sick. He felt like a walking asshole – because he was one. Admiral Fenton himself had asked Sampson not to hurt Diana. So, what had he done?
Hurt Diana.
He couldn’t shake the guilt as he got to class.
He couldn’t sit with her, no matter how much he longed to look into those deep violet eyes. He couldn’t check her psyche, no matter how much he wanted to ensure Bequelia hadn’t left any lasting damage.
All Sampson could do was sit there and complete his real mission.
With a dulled mind and emotion so buried, it felt like he’d thrown his heart into the Mariana Trench, he scanned the students in science class.
By the time it was over, he had nothing.
There was emotion – yes. But none of it even neared the level you’d require to destroy every living creature on Planet Earth.
By the time he made it out of class, Sampson was on autopilot.
He scanned every mind he passed, but he got nothing.
… Except for Diana. He could feel her stronger than ever. Though he could kid himself and try to believe that Diana was fine, and Bequelia hadn’t left any lasting damage in Diana’s head, that was naïve.
With a psychic attack on that level, Diana would have lasting scars. He could feel them. Her mind had turned into the equivalent of a burning engine.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
As he walked through the corridors to get to his next class, he could see Diana. She’d stopped in front of another window to once more stare up at the view.
No. Not up at the view – again she looked as if she was staring through it.
Though Sampson knew that sounded strange, as soon as that thought hit his mind, it was like an infection. It spread until it took over his whole body and locked him to the spot.
… What the hell was she doing?
Though Diana appeared ensconced in her task – whatever it was – suddenly, she turned, and despite the fact there was a crowd between them, she managed to stare right through it, right at him as if she’d already known he was there.
A smile spread her lips. And those same lips opened to mouth, “Sampson.”
Surprise gripped Sampson like chains around his heart.
There was no way Diana could know his real name.
Before he could spiral down into suspicion and call Forest, someone moved in front of Diana, and by the time they’d moved off, so had Diana.
Sampson turned to try to track her through the crowd, but a whole class had just finished, and cadets were spewing out of a lecture hall to his side like water from a dam.
He shoved off, trying to get to her.
… He’d just made that up, hadn’t he? She hadn’t actually mouthed his real name. She’d just mouthed something similar.
Because there was no way Diana knew who he was. Even Admiral Fenton didn’t know Sampson’s real name.
Though Sampson had been explicitly ordered to stay away from her, he couldn’t stay away now.
He only just caught glimpses of her as she walked through the cadets. Everyone, as usual, gave her a wide berth. She didn’t seem to care. Her head was turned to the side, and far from locking on the judgmental gazes she was getting, Diana was still staring out of the windows.
He could kid himself that she was just watching the grounds and the glittering slice of the bay beyond. Her head was tilted up, though. Specifically, right at the command building.
Nerves buzzed through him. They seemed to come from somewhere beyond him – it was the only way to explain their power. For a trained psy soldier like Sampson couldn’t possibly have emotions this intense.
But intense they were, and they only grew as he tracked Diana forward.
Though occasionally she would get distracted and pull her wide-eyed gaze off the view to lock it on some passing cadet, she always returned her stare to the command building.
… It was like she was tracking something.
What?
Goddammit, what the hell was going on here? Why had Forest sworn him off Diana? What had Bequelia really been after? What was that wall Diana had seen? And why was the memory buried in her mind?
Diana finally stopped, coming to a halt so suddenly, several cadets almost banged into her. They all muttered angrily and flowed around her as Diana tilted her head all the way around to face the view. She looked like a marionette. Her neck muscles tightened so slowly and jerkily, it was like something else was in control of her body.
“Diana?” he called, incapable of taking this anymore.
He shoved through the crowd, bodily ramming a large cadet to push him out of the way.
Sampson didn’t get a chance to reach Diana. She shoved into a run. No. Wrong word. The only verb that came close to describing her sudden speed was pulsed. She was like a blast of light that had just erupted from some pulsar.
“What the hell?” Sampson spat as he pushed off to follow her.
She disappeared through the crowd.
Sampson couldn’t drop this anymore. No way, no how. Forest be damned.
He shoved off into a run, not caring that he made a scene as he barreled bodily through the crowd. Diana might have been able to lithely dart around people using her much smaller body, but Sampson just had to plow a path forward.
He did.
But he didn’t catch up to Diana. She reached a lift, threw herself inside, and surprised two cadets as she snapped at them to get out.
What the hell was happening to her? Had she finally cracked?
Sampson didn’t reach the lift in time.
That didn’t matter. He couldn’t lose her. Before he’d described her psyche as an open wound. Now he had no clue what it was, but he was sure even the most rudimentary psychic would be able to track it a planet away.
He’d never seen anything like it. She was like some kind of beacon.
Or at least to him.
Swearing under his breath, Sampson darted over to the next lifts and did exactly what she did – snapping at two cadets to get out as he commandeered it and rode it down to the base of the building. By the time he reached it, Diana had already disappeared.
“Dammit,” he spat again.
As he threw himself through the crowd, following her beacon, he wondered if he should contact Forest. She’d outright told him not to have anything to do with Diana Fenton, but that would change if he discovered Diana had anything to do with his mission.
He honestly didn’t know what was happening to her now, and though he wanted to believe with all his heart that Diana didn’t have anything to do with Infection Zero, he had to track her down to check.
By the time he made it out onto the steps that led down to the grounds, he finally spotted her. She rushed toward the command building, but halfway there, she abruptly stopped, halting so quickly, her boots tore up tufts of turf. She turned and threw herself in the opposite direction toward the accommodation block.
What the hell is happening to you, Diana? He thought with all his force as he ran off after her.
Abruptly, she turned to look at him. She didn’t stop running, though, and her hair fanned around her face as those startling eyes locked on him.
It was almost as if she’d heard him. But she couldn’t have – that had been a thought.
Something… something started to build in Sampson. It wasn’t suspicion. Not yet. Just an aching need to get to Diana before something happened, either to her or someone else.
Though all her combat scores would testify that Diana wasn’t the greatest athlete, he couldn’t catch up. It was easier for her to move through the crowds, but that wasn’t the only reason she managed to keep her distance from him.
Diana reached her accommodation block, shouldered two members of the E Club out of the way, and threw herself at the lifts.
Sampson skidded in through the door behind her and knocked one of the same cadets over. He did not hang around to give her a hand to her feet.
Screw this, Sampson thought. “Diana,” he bellowed.
She didn’t even look around as she entered the lift, kicked someone out of it, and closed the doors.
Sampson skidded to a stop in front of them. Slamming his fist so hard on the metal, he could have broken it, he shoved over to the next set of lifts.
People were asking him what the hell was happening. He didn’t answer.
He just had to get to her.
His lift couldn’t arrive soon enough, and he rammed his way in like he was a cannonball and not a man. The cadets inside scurried away. He slammed his fist onto the button that would take him to Diana’s floor.
He stopped. As his eyes darted like a jittering hand, he sensed she wasn’t headed to her floor. She was headed up.
… The roof?
Before he could question, he stabbed his finger into the button that led to the roof.
The elevator couldn’t arrive quickly enough. It felt like a lifetime of torture as he stood, pressed against the doors, one hand locked against the metal as if he thought he’d need to manually open them – anything to get them to open faster.
In one more agonizing second, he arrived.
And Sampson Ventura shot onto the roof.
He saw Diana. He also saw Commander Sparx crumpled over a sniper scope pointed right at the command building.