Jon Messenger - Burden of Sisyphus

“On the other hand, you’ve shown exceptional fighting skills, which are further proven by the confrontation tonight. You challenged and handily defeated a much-larger foe with no fear whatsoever. You slipped a strike past the defenses of a well-trained instructor. Though your behavior was reprehensible, your technique was flawless. If you could manage to translate your fighting skills on the ground into piloting skills in the air, you’d be an unstoppable force for the Alliance Fleet.”

The dean folded his hands before his face, as if lost in deep thought. When he spoke, Keryn strained to hear his words.

“You see my dilemma, Cadet Riddell. Either I knowingly keep a potentially lethal weapon in this institute, or I risk losing a cadet with boundless potential.”

He raised his head and met her gaze. “What would you have me do? What would you do, were you faced with such a decision?”

The question caught her by surprise. It took a few seconds before she realized that he genuinely wanted a response. Clearing her throat, she started to speak, only to quickly close her mouth.

She almost told him to keep her. Keryn wanted to explain all she had to offer to the Fleet, as a pilot and fighter, to ask if he understood how great a loss she would be if he let her go.

Before she could speak, however, another thought entered her mind. Keryn wasn’t sure if it was the Voice granting her insight from dozens of previous generations, or if she finally took a moment to be more objective about her case. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t shake the thought.

“Sir, if I were in your position, I’d expel me from the Academy.”

It seemed preposterous that she’d openly tell him such a thing after all she did to get to the Academy in the first place, but she couldn’t shake the feeling it was the right answer.

Dean Brothius nodded slowly. “The Salisha teaches that every person must be both humble and honest, lest they fall victim to the vices of pride and deceit. I’m proud to hear you say that you should be expelled. An honest assessment of one’s position is the first step toward changing your sinning ways.

“I believe Magistrate Victoria’s recommendation is the correct one. You won’t be expelled, Cadet Riddell.”

Keryn sighed, unaware she had been holding her breath. Shaking softly, she let nervous energy flee after being pent up for so long.

“Don’t misunderstand, Cadet. You erred greatly when you struck a fellow cadet and an instructor. As far as I’m concerned, you’re at the very bottom of your class. You’ll have to perform exceptionally well to prove your worth to me and Magistrate Victoria.”

“I understand, Sir,” she said softly.

“You’ve received the only redemption you’ll ever have while attending this institution. If you make another poor judgment call like tonight, I’ll expel you on the spot. I don’t mean you’ll be on suspension for a week or a month. If you make any mistakes in the next two years, you’ll be sent home immediately.”

Keryn nodded.

The dean turned toward Victoria. “Magistrate, please give us a moment.”

Surprised, Victoria stepped hesitantly from behind the desk and strode toward the door, glancing back several times. As the door clicked softly closed behind her, the dean gestured Keryn to take a seat.

“I wanted a second to speak to you alone, Cadet Riddell. I meant what I said when I told you that you had great potential. I see the same thing Magistrate Victoria does. You could be the top of your class if you’d only find a way to get past your anger and find your metaphorical center.”

He turned his chair, so Keryn saw his profile. Glancing to the wall behind him, he looked up at the ancient Avalon script written on the wall.

“I saw you when you entered. You took a great interest in the words written above my chair.”

“Yes, Sir. They’re the same words written on the banner held in the statue’s hand in the courtyard.”

He smiled and turned back to her. “That’s correct, Keryn. Do you mind if I call you Keryn?”

She shook her head.

“Do you know what those words mean?”

Keryn looked at the strange words again. “No, Sir, I don’t. I tried asking earlier this year, but I never got a good response.”

“The words are a passage from the Salisha. Shirath Esquideuz Pithyas mean No One Is Greater. Do you believe in a god, Keryn?”

She remembered the reliefs carved into the coral leading to the Shrine of Initiation. For many Wyndgaarts, the embodiment of the Voice was a higher power. They believed the Voice was cast into each unmolded child at the time of conception by a higher power, called only the Nameless One, that watched over every Wyndgaart when he went into battle. Keryn had never been one to accept spirituality, always finding true faith in science. Every battle consisted of a disciplined understanding of physics and trajectories, gravitational pulls, and elevation. To understand those left little room for religious superstitions.

“I’m sorry,” she replied, “but I don’t.”

“Then, perhaps, that’s your greatest weakness. Believing in no one but yourself means you don’t think there’s a higher power above you. Without a god by which the universe was created, it means you don’t believe in a god that lies at the center of reality. In that case, you must believe that you reside in the center, that you truly are the center of your own universe. I warn you, Keryn, that to believe such is folly and arrogance, neither of which have a place in the Alliance.”

He turned back to the script on the wall. “This passage should mean more to you than any of the other cadets. I’ve read that passage in the Salisha many times and have come to learn its meaning over time. The words have a twofold meaning.

“First, they mean simply, as one would expect, that no one individual is greater than God. The center of the universe can’t be shared between you and God. In time, you must realize it’s your place to subjugate yourself to a higher power.

“The other meaning I’ve gleaned comes straight from the passage’s use in history. Do you know why that phrase is so prominently displayed on the statue in front of the Academy?”

Keryn admitted she didn’t.

“During the first meeting of the newly formed Alliance Parliament, nearly 150 years ago, the Avalon representative was a great warrior and scholar named Etherius. His statue stands in the courtyard, welcoming students to this institute.

“That first meeting of Parliament was a madhouse. All races spoke simultaneously of the newly discovered threat of the Terran Empire. To the Alliance races, each knew it had unique strengths that would benefit the new army, and each had a reason why it should be the one to lead as the premier race in the new government.

“Irritated with their petty bickering, Etherius, a pious crusader, leaped upon the central table of Parliament and proudly brandished his spear, shouting the words, ‘ Shirath Esquideuz Pithyas.’ The stunned Parliament fell silent to hear what he had to say. He told them its meaning was that no one was greater. To each race, he explained the strengths it offered to the Alliance and why each was vital. In the end, however, he also told them that without each other for support, they would fail individually.

“That’s the personal meaning of No One Is Greater and why I chose to apply it to this academy.

“You’re a great student, Keryn, but without the support of your fellow cadets, you’re destined to fail alone. Even if I can’t convince you to believe in a power greater than your own, at least take this meaning of Etherius’ words to heart. Find whatever strength you have within you to excel at the individual challenges you’ll face in the Academy, but never lose sight of the fact that eventually, you have to rely on those around you to succeed. Every pilot is part of a squadron or fleet. Even if you’re the best pilot in the Alliance, you’ll die without someone to support you.”