Jon Messenger - Burden of Sisyphus

Sasha shook violently, as her suit tightened around her. Unhooking her paralyzed arm from Sasha’s chest, Keryn kicked off with both legs, activated her jetpack, and broke free of their embrace. Hovering in midair, she watched with deep satisfaction, as she sent the Avalon spinning end over end into the net.

Elated, Keryn flew back to rejoin Iana and revel in her personal victory.

Keryn floated on her back in the water, letting the buoyant suit keep her afloat, as she stared up at the bright, early afternoon sky. Clouds danced overhead, caught in the cool breeze blowing down from the mountains. Even the cold water was comforting, as she lay in the lake, each lapping wave carrying a sense of contentment.

She and Iana hadn’t finished first. It hadn’t taken much time after Keryn eliminated Sasha for others to realize what the pair did and form their own teams. Keryn and Iana were eliminated from the last twenty cadets, but even elimination couldn’t steal her happiness.

In the air, she found two things she thought she lost-purpose and confidence. She knew without any doubt that coming to the Academy was the right decision. Her fears and concerns were gone. She convinced even her naysayers and heard words of encouragement from the Voice for the first time since refusing Initiation. In the end, she realized the Voice truly wanted her to succeed at whatever she did.

More important to her was the confidence she felt. It took nearly twelve cadets working together to eliminate her and Iana. Once, she would’ve felt pity, as if the larger group picked on them for being different. She knew now that so many cadets attacked, because they respected her and her abilities.

Keryn changed her fate. Tomorrow, she would improve upon her performance, until eventually, she took her rightful place at the top of her class.

Rolling over to swim toward shore, she was unable to shake her broad smile.

The escape from the planet held none of the joy one would expect from the survivors. Within the Cair Ilmun, the four remaining members of the Alliance strike force sat in sullen silence, the quiet a divisive mockery of the deep silence of space beyond the hull.

Vance sat a few seats down from Decker and across from a young Uligart whose name he didn’t know. Civility required that he learn the soldier’s name after sharing so many hardships together, but Vance didn’t have the heart to strike up a conversation, nor the inclination to act civil with so much weighing on his heart. The mantle of leadership was a heavy burden, and it grew heavier knowing so many died under his leadership. Military law dictated that be held responsible in an inquiry to determine how much fault was his.

In a lot of ways, he welcomed the inquiry. The other survivors refused to voice what Vance wanted to hear. He longed for someone else to validate his misery and tell him it was his fault.

“Buren.” Decker’s voice broke the silence in the crew compartment.

The Uligart looked up with eyes that refused to focus. His haunted look stared far beyond Decker’s face.

“How are you holding up?”

Buren shook his head softly before his flaccid expression returned, and his gaze returned to his feet.

Adam climbed from his chair, unlacing his protective webbing, and slid closer to Vance. “What about you, Sir? How are you doing?”

“Miserable.” Vance sighed. “I can’t believe we’re all that’s left.”

“At least we survived. We stand a chance to warn others about what happened on the planet. We can get revenge for this.”

Vance shook his head. “Maybe you can, but not me. Even if we make it out of here, I’m done.” Tears stung his eyes. “I’m not fighting anymore. I don’t have the energy.”

They sat in silence. Decker seemed uncomfortable, as if he couldn’t find the right words of consolation. Vance guessed he’d never been comfortable with emotion. A crying woman probably startled the young Pilgrim. He could only imagine his inner turmoil in trying to console an emotional man. Vance needed to control himself.

Yen emerged from the cockpit. “I hate to interrupt, but I need you in the front of the ship.”

Vance roughly wiped away tears with the back of his hand, angry at himself for showing weakness to the troops. “What’s the problem?”

“We’re being hailed,” Yen said nervously.

“By whom?” Vance unlatched his harness.

Following Yen to the cockpit, Vance felt Decker squeeze his bulk into the cockpit with them. The transmission ended, as they entered, only to blare again a few moments later.

“Unidentified ship, this is the Goliath. Please identify yourself.”

Yen and Decker blanched at the stern voice. Both turned to Vance, seeking advice.

“Turn on the radar,” Vance ordered.

As the screen flickered, the bulky form of Goliath loomed, drifting in orbit around one of the distant planets.

“They waited for us,” Yen said angrily. “They couldn’t just have left the galaxy, could they? No! They had to stay behind, just in case. Those bastards!”

“Calm yourself, Yen.” Vance’s formerly stoic exterior hid his tumultuous emotions.

“Unidentified ship, this is the Goliath. Identify yourself, or you’ll be destroyed.”

“What should we do, Sir?” Decker asked.

“We don’t have much choice. Yen, open a channel.” Grabbing a mike, Vance said, “ Goliath, this is Magistrate Vance of the Cair Ilmun. Please hold your fire.”

Silence stretched for a few seconds, then a sickly sweet voice spoke. “Michael, it’s good to hear you’re still alive. I’d be lying if I said this was anything other than a huge surprise.” Behind the sweet voice, Vance detected frustrated undertones.

“Captain Young, I’m truly glad you decided to wait for us. I’d hate to think we’d be flying to the Alliance Fleet in nothing more than a Cair.”

“I’m your captain. I couldn’t have you fly back under such austere conditions.”

“That son of a bitch,” Yen growled.

Vance hushed him with a wave of his hand.

“I’m eager to hear what happened on the planet, Michael. Why don’t you and your men join me on the Goliath, so you may give a full debriefing of the events?”

“It seems like an offer I can’t refuse,” Vance said flatly.

“Bring your ship around to the bow and dock in the main hangar bay. I’ll have a crew ready to treat any of your wounded. The last thing we’d want is for them to suffer when help is so close.”

Vance, gripping the microphone tightly, scanned the others’ worried faces. “Unfortunately, that won’t be possible, Sir. We’re experiencing mechanical problems. Our ship took some damage during our heavy acceleration out of the atmosphere, which means we can’t dock inside the ship. If you could extend one of Goliath’s exterior docking arms, my pilot can perform a combat docking instead.”

The captain let the silence stretch. Yen grew nervous, turning his chair to scan the radar, looking for inbound attacks from the warship. Finally, after what felt like forever, Captain Young replied.

“My navigator tells me we can accommodate your request, Michael. We’re sending coordinates for the docking arm now. We’ll see you soon. Good-bye, Michael.”

His last words carried a dangerous finality that all three understood.

“That was awfully cordial,” Decker said. “I assume it’s a trap.”

“A thinly veiled threat is more like it,” Yen said. “He’ll kill all of us, won’t he?”

Vance stared out the front window, trying to see the dark ship in orbit around the planet they approached. As soon as he heard Captain Young’s voice, a dangerous desire for revenge welled up. He wanted to feel the man’s last breath, as he choked the life from him with his bare hands.