Jon Messenger - Burden of Sisyphus

Like he did on every mission before, Vance went through a maze of halls to stop before a sealed door with a code panel on one side. Entering his commander’s code, he opened the door. Lights above came on automatically, as he entered the expansive armory his team used.

Ignoring the multitude of pistols, rifles, explosives, and Ainj’s series of sniper rifles, he stopped before a two-foot-by-two-foot safe. After receiving his commander’s code and processing his thumbprint, tumblers clicked into place with a resounding thump. Opening the safe door, Vance removed a six-inch-diameter black sphere. The seamless, glossy surface glistened in the halogen lighting, as he turned the nondescript orb in his hand.

Satisfied, he carefully slid the black sphere into the assault pack on his belt before leaving the armory, letting the door slide closed and seal behind him.

Keryn’s body screamed in protest, as she awoke and threw back the blankets, exposing herself to the cold morning air. Though it was warm outside, a perpetual chill permeated the barracks in which the cadets slept, leaving her shivering, as she sat up. Her back arched, as she leaned down to put on her slippers, and the broad bruise on her shoulder glowed angry purple. Pouting, she stood and stretched, feeling new pain spread through her body.

For the past week, the instructors put the cadets through a rigorous physical-training program designed to identify each student’s physical strengths and weaknesses. Finding something at which she excelled, she pushed her body to its limits. Having undergone years of warrior training during her definitive school years, Keryn was more adaptive and possessed far more endurance than most, especially the frail Avalons. She was quickly identified as a front-runner in the class, a position that held both praise from her instructors and scorn from her fellow students. If Keryn learned anything from her previous training, it was that the person in front became an easy target to be stabbed in the back.

To her surprise, Iana also performed impressively. Though shorter than Keryn, her bright personality betrayed an impressive inner strength and belied her thin, muscular frame. To Keryn’s chagrin, however, the Pilgrim seemed more adaptable and rebounded quicker from injuries. While Keryn still nursed an injured shoulder, Iana showed no wounds from the painful training.

“Good morning,” Iana called from the bathroom, when Keryn reached the door. Her nauseating morning enthusiasm proved her resilience. “I was starting to worry you’d oversleep.”

Keryn, yawning, leaned heavily against the doorframe. Iana, already showered and dressed, stood before the mirror to pull her long, blonde hair into a tight bun. By contrast, Keryn caught her own reflection and saw that the bruise on her shoulder extended slightly to her neck. It was a wound, she realized, that would be visible even when wearing the high-collared gray uniforms. Her eyes were still red from lack of sleep, and her fine silver hair was disheveled and flattened against the right side of her head.

“I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to,” she mumbled, pulling her loose shirt over her head. “You were singing in the shower again. No one can sleep through that.”

Her hands still caught in the folds of her shirt, Keryn was still able to deflect the playfully thrown brush. Laughing, Iana moved out of the way, so Keryn could examine herself closer in the mirror. Standing topless, she lifted her arm to look at a second bruise spreading across her ribs.

“That Oterian got you pretty good,” Iana remarked, admiring the colors of the bruise, as it faded from purple to green to yellow near the center.

Grumbling, Keryn slid free of her loose shorts and tossed them toward the hamper in the corner. Naked, she stepped into the shower and turned on the water jets. Steam poured from the enclosed shower, as hot water from the faucets drove off the morning chill.

Moving inside the shower, she gasped in surprise, as hot water washed over her cold skin. Gooseflesh spread across her, as the warmth soaked into tense muscles and aching joints. Tilting back her head, she let the hot water cascade through her long hair and run down her face, tracing the line of her neck before spilling over the curves of her body. She sighed, feeling relaxed and rejuvenated.

“Don’t take too long in there, or you’ll be late,” Iana said, leaving the bathroom.

Tipping her head forward, Keryn realized her roommate’s sweet voice and blunt reminder shattered the sanctity of her morning shower. Lathering and rinsing quickly, she frowned.

Turning off the water, she dried quickly and dressed, skipping most of the primping Iana favored. Finally ready, her hair dripping slightly, she left the bathroom to join her roommate, who waited patiently by the door.

The halls were full of cadets moving between classes. The first-year students they passed contained a collective enthusiasm that was hard to ignore. Even Keryn, who considered herself far from a morning person, found herself swept up in the excitement. Their first class for the day was a new one for Keryn and Iana. Piloting was considered the single most-important class at the Academy, since it involved more of the hands-on pilot training than any other section on campus.

Since it was their first class, first-year cadets had the chance to place initial requests on the type of ship they wanted to pilot on graduation. For Keryn, the choices were still too numerous. Still, her heart pounded by the time they entered the doorway to the classroom and took their seats.

An anticipatory hush fell over the room. Keryn sat up straighter, trying to see over the male Uligart sitting in front of her. Finally, the teacher’s door opened, and a familiar Avalon appeared.

“Welcome to the most-important course you’re ever take,” Victoria said, setting down her personal console and connecting it to the room’s electronic network. Screens on each desk flickered, reflecting the image projected from her computer.

“Today, you’ll all be going through a crash course on piloting.”

Soft laughter came from the students.

“I intend to fill your minds with all the classroom instruction you can manage today, because tomorrow, I’ll be putting you through the steps in a hands-on block of instruction. Study hard today, and tomorrow will be a breeze. Struggle with concepts today….” She paused and smiled wickedly. “Well, luckily, we have a medical team on site to treat your wounds.

“Before I can abuse your bodies, however, I intend to abuse your minds. If you look in front of you, we’ll start reviewing the major ships of the Fleet, starting with the smallest.”

The screen before Keryn shifted its image, projecting the three-dimensional image of a small, dart-like fighter. Its sleek body design left room for only a single pilot. Rotating the image, Keryn examined rows of missiles and machine guns affixed to the ship’s underbelly.

“The Duun fighter,” Victoria stated, “the personal fighters of the Alliance Fleet. Quick and maneuverable, the Duun is the main choice of most pilots who graduate from the Academy. Their heavy arsenal is capable of raining destruction down on any squadron of Terran fighters.

“However, the small ships also serve a second purpose. The Duun is capable of electronically controlling up to two large-bore plasma missiles fired from one of the cruisers. Once a missile falls under a fighter’s control, the rocket remains in orbit around your ship until fired using your ship’s internal targeting system. A single Duun carrying two plasma missiles can bring down an uninjured Terran destroyer if struck in the correct locations.”

The image flickered, and the small fighter enlarged. The hull elongated, widened, and flattened, granting space for more crewmembers. Long wings extended from each side, adding stability to the larger ship.