Jon Messenger - Burden of Sisyphus

As minutes dragged by, she looked away from the ceiling and around her rather barren room. Aside from two beds, two tall wall lockers dominated the wall space at the foot of each bed frame. Near her head, butted against the wall opposite the door, two desks sat side-by-side, allowing each student to read, study, and run exercises on a personal console.

She sat upright, staring at the desks. Over the past week, she completed a series of reports on the Academy’s history, using her console as a reference to sort through the hundreds of documents stored in its database. It was feasible the console held information about the aerial joust, too.

Excited, she slid from bed and pulled out her chair, flicking the power switch on the side of the console’s monitor. A cold, blue glow filled the otherwise darkened room, as a query screen appeared. Blinking against the bright glow, she entered her request and submitted a query to the system.

Leaning back in her chair, she waited, as the console processed her request. Shortly, it filled the screen with a scrolled list of positive results. Starting at the top, she perused the files, passing by a multitude of text files. After completing research projects and preparing for demanding classes, she had no heart for more reading.

Near the bottom of the first page, she found what she wanted-a video result. Smiling, she accessed it and leaned back, as the air above her console shimmered.

The darkness vanished, as the video played. A warm sun over Arcendor appeared, casting a brilliant reflection off the lake behind the Academy. Keryn almost felt the warm breeze blowing over the water, as she watched ripples move across the lake.

From the periphery of the projection, figures dressed in black flew into view. The group of cadets dived around and through one another in an obvious battle, with pistols and strange, glowing knives in their hands. The air was soon filled with laser fire, as cadets spun in graceful arcs and turned into intense dives to gain a tactical advantage on their adversaries.

Slowly, one at a time, cadets were struck by their peers’ laser fire or slashing knives. Stiffening, they plummeted from view, diving stiffly toward the lake.

Keryn watched the stunning acrobatic dance above the lake for nearly thirty minutes until only three students remained, their flights becoming little more than a blur. Not needing to see any more, she flicked off the console, and the room was again enveloped in the dark gloom of night.

Though temporarily blinded, she remained seated at her desk.

“I am so screwed,” she said into the darkness.

“We’ve established a steady orbit around Purseus II,” the pilot called back to the crew cabin of the transport ship.

“Roger that,” Vance yelled back, trying to be heard over the low din of the humming engines. Looking out the open back bay, he watched two other Cair class transports starting their engines and activated his radio before continuing. “Halo, are you online?”

“I’m here, Michael,” she said, transferring her voice communications to the covert operation team’s channel. “I’m bringing satellite tracking online now.”

“Let me know when you have a visual for our descent,” he said into the microphone hanging before his face. Like the rest of the soldiers crammed into the rear of the transport ship, Vance wore the dark-plated armor more typical of infantry than covert operations. It sat uncomfortably on his shoulders, as it did the rest of his team. Still having a bad feeling about the mission, he wasn’t willing to take any chances. Though it was uncomfortable, body armor was capable of stopping a direct shot from most Terran weapon systems.

“Imagery is now online,” Halo finally said. “I’m ready when you are.”

“Roger that, Halo.” Vance pulled the mike away from his mouth to yell to the seated soldiers, “We’re starting our drop in five minutes. Make sure you’re securely locked into your seats. It’ll be a bumpy ride through the atmosphere. Check your buddy, too. I need all of you healthy when we hit the ground.”

He motioned Dallis and Decker to join him near the cockpit. “Are your men ready to go?”

“The Black Talons were born ready,” Dallis said with a smile.

“I’ve double-checked their equipment and basic loads myself,” Decker said flatly, sharing a knowing glance with Vance. Neither Pilgrim felt confident since the mission briefing. “We have enough ammunition onboard to stop a small army.”

“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Vance patted their shoulders and moved toward the cockpit. “Looks like we’re ready to start our drop,” he told the pilot. “Let me know when we break through the atmosphere. I want to get eyes on the city before we land.”

“Yes, Sir,” both pilots replied.

Vance went back to strap himself into a webbed seat.

The meager light flooding through the rear door of the transport ship began to disappear, as the heavy door slowly slid closed. With the last sliver of light finally gone, the interior of the ship rumbled, as it lifted off the floor of the hangar bay. Sitting sideways, all the soldiers were thrown against each other, as the ship accelerated quickly to launch free of the Goliath. The ship settled in the frictionless space, and the noise died to a low hum. Vance was able to unlatch from his seat and stand to address the soldiers.

“Listen up!” he called. “You’ve all received the intelligence brief containing everything we know. As you’re aware, that’s very little. That means I expect every one of you to be vigilant once we’re on the ground. Take nothing for granted. If it seems wrong, it probably is, and there’s a chance it’ll kill you. Everyone onboard this ship will be located with my team, which means I’m relying on you to watch our backs. Do you understand me?”

“Sir, yes, Sir!” they called.

Vance smiled, having forgotten the rigid discipline enforced among the infantry. It was very different from his own team’s behavior, many of whom ignored his speech.

“We’ve got just under an hour until we hit the atmosphere around Purseus II. Take this time to do one final check of all your gear and ammunition. We won’t have time for combat checks once we’re on the surface.”

Vance sat and closed his eyes, beginning the ritual he started years earlier. He slowed his breathing, letting himself drift into a meditative state. His heart rate slowed, and the nervousness he felt fled. On the planet, no one needed a commander too stressed or worried to make timely, correct decisions. Lives hung in the delicate balance based on the decisions he made during the mission. He wouldn’t let people die, because he made the wrong one.

A few seats down, Yen started intently at his open palm on his knee. The heat within the cabin grew, as the air shimmered. In his open palm, blue light coalesced, illuminating the dark cabin. Yen’s eyes narrowed, as the blue light grew, elongating from a single point into a blue tendril that waved in the recirculated air. Sweat beaded his forehead, as he tried to maintain control over the manifestation of his psychic energy, but the tendril wavered unsteadily while they watched. Though he strained to keep it together, it quickly broke apart, dissipating like sand in a strong wind.

Once again, the cabin was cast into gloom. Yen cursed, as Eza leaned toward him.

“Close, Yen,” Eza said, his eyes readjusting to the darkness.

“What was that?” a voice called from across the narrow aisle.

They looked up and saw an infantry soldier watching, his face hidden behind a thick, black helmet.

“Just trying an experiment,” Yen replied, looking at his empty palm. “One that really isn’t working out too well so far.”