Jon Messenger: Burden of Sisyphus

His shoulders slumped, as the Voice released control of his body. Almost disgustedly, he looked at the arterial sprays of blood covering his clothing and arms.

“I’m a psychic, not a gunslinger,” Yen replied, stepping over a dead soldier. “Be happy I hit him at all.”

On the far side of the room, a bank of dark computer screens glowered at the intruders. Yen approached the consoles and sorted through the collection of data disks sitting haphazardly on a narrow counter. Tossing the more-mundane ones over his shoulder, he paused when he found a red disk.

“I’ve got it!” He turned to catch Eza’s eyes, as the Wyndgaart tried to clean the blood staining his tanned skin.

“Good,” Eza said, disgruntled. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Yen smiled mischievously. “Don’t you want to know what’s on it?”

“Yes,” Eza sighed, “but the first order we received was to collect the disk and bring it back. At no time were we….”

“…to open it. I’m perfectly aware of what they told us, but how will they know? It’s just the two of us in here.” He spun the disk between his fingers, letting it catch the light hypnotically.

“No, Yen. This is exactly why we can’t stay out of trouble. You always have some great idea that winds up earning us extra duty. Not this time.”

“Your loss.” He pulled out his handheld console. “All I’m saying is, we’re on a secret mission attacking a Terran outpost on the outskirts of Alliance-occupied space. The fact that there’s an outpost here at all intrigues the hell out of me. If you aren’t interested, I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

He inserted the disk, and the console flickered. Data poured across the screen. Yen’s face glowed with pale blue light from his monitor, as he perused the files. His eyes slowly widened in surprised, as he continued reading.

Eza, noticing, came closer. “What did you find?” he asked, disgusted by his own curiosity.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Yen said breathlessly.

More intrigued, Eza moved beside his friend to read the screen. Words flew past his eyes, allowing him to catch only snippets of sentences. “What am I looking at?” He couldn’t make sense of it.

Yen didn’t speak for a moment, responding only when Eza drove a well-placed elbow into his ribs.

Cringing, Yen said, “Let’s see. There are science plans for genetic experimentation, biological research into a new chemical weapon, Fleet plans for assault into Alliance-occupied space….”

“Wait a second. Assaults into Alliance space? We need to let someone know.”

“And admit we looked at the disk we were forbidden to open?”

Before Eza could answer, their radios crackled.

“Eza, Yen, give me an update.”

The pair shared a knowing look, as Yen slid the data disk free of his console. “Sire, we retrieved the disk and are returning to your position.”

“Double-time it,” the red-robed man said. “We’re still on the clock and are quickly running out of time.” He activated his throat mike. “Halo, this is ground team. We’re heading to the landing zone now.”

“Move quickly,” a soft, feminine voice said. “You’re already running late, and the transport won’t wait forever.”

“Roger that, Halo. You heard the lady, Team. Meet me back in the main chamber ASAP.”

The pair met the rest of the team in the main foyer and handed the disk to the man in red. Together, the seven-member team hurried from the outpost, arriving at the pickup zone moments before the Alliance troopship landed. They turned their faces away from the billowing dust, as the ship touched down on the planet’s surface, and a side door slid open. It shut behind the team, as they found their seats, then they were pressed into them, as the transport accelerated from the atmosphere.

The man in red activated his microphone again. “Halo, this is Magistrate Michael Vance. We’re clear of the planet and ready to begin bombardment.”

“Roger that,” Halo’s soft, feminine voice replied. “We’re proceeding with our bombing run.”

Vance leaned back in his padded chair, as blue and purple plasma explosions engulfed the red planet’s surface.

Nova stepped in front of Ainj, as he tried to enter the barracks room onboard the Goliath and punched his arm hard. She pointed a menacing finger at him and scowled.

“What the hell was that for?” Ainj asked, his tone rising and falling like soft singing.

“You nearly shot me!” she sneered at the Avalon sniper.

“ Nearly. I still missed.”

“Do it again, and I’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”

“You tease.” He slid against her, his tone belying the typical Avalon personality, which was known throughout the universe as arrogant and condescending.

Nova’s frown softened, and she laughed despite herself.

Eza leaned past Ainj’s outstretched wing and cleared his throat loudly. “If you two lovebirds are quite done, the rest of us would like to get into the barracks.”

“He’s right, you know,” Nova told Ainj. “We should get a room.” She coyly tilted her head toward the rows of beds.

“Oh, absolutely.” Ainj winked. “We should get a room.” He placed his hands on her hips, pushing her out of the doorway.

The other team members moved into the room, stripping off soiled clothing and hanging assorted weaponry on the ends of their respective bunks. The air around Yen grew hazy, as his equipment slid off him and floated to a hamper beside his bed.

“Showoff,” Eza said, walking past and stripping off his clothing. The Wyndgaart paused long enough to toss Yen the set of ID tags he slipped over his head.

Yen absently caught them and tossed a similar set back to Eza. Dropping his freshly returned tags onto the bed, Eza unbuttoned his bloody pants and was already heading toward the showers when Vance entered the room.

“Listen up, all of you,” Vance said, his voice still muffled from his thick, red lips, “before I lose you to the four corners of the ship.” He looked at the two already lying on their bunks. “Some of you to your own personal game of Who’s in my Mouth. I want to tell you that was great work down on the planet.”

Yen performed an exaggerated bow. “We live to serve the Alliance.”

“Cut the crap, Yen,” Vance growled.

“He’s just playing around.” Eza stood naked near the shower rooms, the red and white tattoos tracing the course of his muscular chest and strong abs. “Which brings up a good point, Vance. You should try relaxing and unwinding with us sometime. You can’t be our stoic leader all the time.”

Vance unwound the thick scarves covering his face. Tilting his head forward, he pulled the turban from his head, finally freeing his face to the ship’s cool air. “I’d love to, but someone has to make sure you children stay out of trouble, especially around the rest of the crew.” He ran a hand over his neatly trimmed black beard. “How about this? When you get Ixibas to take part in your version of relaxation, I’ll be there to join in.”

The group turned toward the expressionless face of the Lithid shape changer. His dark, featureless, black, oval face revealed nothing.

“I’m always relaxed,” Ixibas replied, his voice rumbling like two boulders grinding together. Without another word, he turned and began unloading equipment from his bag. The others unwilling to relinquish the conversation so easily, continued joking with the stern Lithid.

Vance smiled and ran a hand through his hair, letting his fingers run back down over his hard Terran features. Though Pilgrims had been widely accepted in Alliance society for over 150 years, Vance always felt nervous leading the team against a Terran outpost.