Jon Messenger - Burden of Sisyphus

The cockpit felt constricting throughout the exercise. Her throat tightened, as silvery digital threads created the full cockpit from the blank computer program. As the metallic alloy closed around her like a coffin, she felt her heart race from claustrophobia. Growing up on the Wyndgaart home world, with its wide-open spaces and freedom, the simulation made her incredibly uneasy.

Throughout the simulated battle, she never shook the feeling of confinement and captivity. Her piloting skills suffered, resulting in her ship’s being destroyed all five times she ran the program. She’d been so confident at the start of the day. As the sun set, and she unwound in the room she shared with Iana, Keryn felt defeated. Doubt crept into her mind. For the first time since arriving, she wondered if she was cut out to be a pilot.

I could help, the Voice whispered in her mind. I’m capable of more than just making you a warrior. Let me help.

Keryn rolled on her side to face the bare wall. “Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any.”

Spare me, the Voice said harshly. Do you honestly believe I like seeing you like this?

Keryn wiped away tears that threatened to spill down her face. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she told the empty room, “especially not with you.”

Someday, you’ll realize that I’m very much a part of you. You can’t turn me off like throwing a switch. The embarrassment you feel right now-believe me, I know you’re swimming in a pool of self-pity-is something I feel, too.

“Like you actually care.”

I do, Keryn. I have only one purpose, and that’s to turn you into the greatest possible warrior. Right now, we’re both failures, and it’s mainly because you’re so adamant about fighting me. I could offer assistance and make you great. Instead, you wallow near the bottom of your class, because you can’t grasp the nuances of space combat. Let me help you!

“No,” she growled. “I got here without you. I’ll graduate without you, too.”

Fat chance. Not the way you’re going.

A knock at the door interrupted her before she could offer a harsh retort. Keryn rolled over, rubbing away as much of the puffiness around her eyes as she could.

“Come in,” she called hoarsely, her voice thick with emotion.

The door opened, and Iana stuck her head in to scan the room. Seeing no one but Keryn, she opened the door the rest of the way and walked in, looking perplexed.

“Why’d you knock?” Keryn asked.

“I thought you might’ve brought someone home with you. I heard you talking when I came to the door. I would’ve felt terrible if I barged in while you were with someone.”

Keryn couldn’t suppress a laugh. Mourning her own failures, spending time with a man, especially a fellow cadet, was the furthest thing from her mind. Seeing Iana’s hurt expression, she quickly regained her composure.

“Believe me, Iana. I was definitely not with anyone.”

“Then maybe you should be. You’ve been cooped up in the room crying into your pillow since class ended. You need to get up and out. Let’s get a drink at the Academy’s bar. A change of scenery will do you good.”

Keryn shook her head. “Maybe some other time. Right now, I’d rather sit in the dark.”

“Come on. You need to get over today. It was one day. You’ll get better.”

“And if I don’t?” She voiced the question that plagued her ever since class ended in disaster.

“You will.” Iana sat beside her on the bed. “Everyone struggles in the beginning.”

“Not everyone,” Keryn replied, thinking darkly of Sasha and Zalide.

As if reading her mind, Iana said, “Forget Sasha for one night. Forget the Academy, too. Tomorrow is a whole new day.”

“Tomorrow,” Keryn replied in mock exasperation, collapsing backward onto the bed and covering her face with her hands. “I don’t even know what the hell Victoria meant by aerial jousting, but I already have to do it tomorrow.”

Laughing, Iana tugged Keryn’s shoulders, trying to make her sit up again. “It can’t be all that bad. Who knows? Maybe joust is code for delicious desserts.”

Giggling with her, Keryn shoved her playfully off the bed. She was glad to have Iana around. Even at her darkest, her Pilgrim roommate was capable of making her laugh.

“See?” Iana stood. “Now you’re laughing. Since you’re in such a good mood, there’s no excuse why you can’t join me at the bar for a few drinks.”

“I appreciate the offer,” Keryn said, still smiling, “but I really think I’ll pass tonight.” She stopped Iana with a raised hand. “Just give me one night of wallowing, then I’ll go to the bar with you.”

Iana narrowed her eyes and stuck out her bottom lip in a pout. “Fine. Enjoy your pity party. I’m still going out. I’ll look so ravishing, all the guys will forget I’m a Pilgrim and will line up at the bar to buy me a drink or take me home. Unfortunately, I’ll have to tell them they can’t come home with me, because my roommate’s too busy feeling sorry for herself.”

“Oh, get going!” She threw a pillow at her. “Have a good time tonight. I mean it.”

“Wish you were coming with me. We’re damn near unstoppable together.”

Both laughed, as the door closed behind Iana. Still smiling, Keryn lay back on the bed, tucking her arms under her head and returning to staring at the ceiling.

Part of her longed to leave the room and join the others, but a deeper ache of shame burned in her chest. The Wyndgaarts were a proud race, but Keryn had done little of which she could feel proud.

Closing her eyes, she ran through her combats and subsequent defeats repeatedly, remembering every painful maneuver with crystal clarity. She sought the one revelation that would help her succeed tomorrow, and, with hope, during the rest of her time at the Academy. No matter how many times she replayed the day’s events, however, she couldn’t figure out what she did wrong, or what Zalide did that was special enough to result in his repeated victories.

As she grew tired and irritated by the thought of her failures, she considered the coming day’s training. Before the end of class, Victoria stood at the front of the room with a deep frown. Keryn wasn’t the only one who performed dismally during training, and the Avalon instructor was disappointed.

“Spend tonight thinking about your failures,” Victoria said, visibly upset. “Tomorrow, take the lessons from today and apply them in combat. You won’t have the safety net of knowing your losses are only in a simulation. Tomorrow, your combat will be real, your losses painful. For your first time this year, but far from the last, you’ll have the opportunity to experience the aerial joust.”

Keryn tried to imagine what an aerial joust might be without success. Nothing she read or heard before arriving mentioned such an event, but Victoria spoke the words as if they were capitalized and were important enough to warrant blatant emphasis. How did one prepare for something, when one didn’t know what it was?

You could always get off your lazy ass and try to find out, the Voice chided.

“I’m not having this conversation with you,” Keryn said angrily. “Unless you have some insight into the joust, shut up.”

Sorry, Keryn, the Voice said with disdain. You’re the first Academy student in our genetic history. I never had much of a need to learn about what happens in this…school. The Voice’s disapproval was evident.

Silence stretched between the two, as Keryn stared unseeing toward the ceiling. Frustration with the Voice flooded her thoughts, which she knew the Voice shared. The knowledge that it knew her displeasure gave her some degree of happiness.