Burden of Sisyphus (Brink of Distinction book #1)

by Jon Messenger

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 he 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 while 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 small space 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 have just left the system, 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, and 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 that 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. Goodbye, 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.

  A smaller voice inside, perhaps his conscience, kept a hold on Vance’s sanity. Though revenge would come, Vance had a larger responsibility. He needed to keep the other three onboard. At least one of them had to survive to warn the High Council of the Terran threat. Rushing headlong into danger would jeopardize everything they needed to accomplish.

  “Yes,” Vance said finally. “Given the chance, he’ll kill all four of us. More than likely, an assault team will be waiting the second we step off the Cair Ilmun.”

  “What do we do?” Yen asked. “Try to run?”

  “We can’t outrun a warship,” Decker said. “We’d be shot out of the air the second he detected we were leaving.”

  “No.” Vance’s lips turned to a thin smile as he formulated a plan. “You’ll dock us with Goliath, just like requested.”

  “Are you serious?” Yen asked.

  Decker turned toward him in surprise. “After we’re sitting ducks, what do we do?”

  Vance turned sharply toward them both, determination flashing dangerously in his eyes. “We don’t do anything. Once I’m safely onboard Goliath, you three will break free of the docking arm and fly out of the star system as fast as you can.”

  “Now I know you aren’t serious.” Yen threw up his arms in exasperation.

  Decker placed a calming hand on Yen’s shoulder. “Sir, you can’t do this. You said it yourself. Going into that warship is a death sentence. Even if we broke free, we can’t outrun Goliath. One quick missile barrage is all it takes to spread our atoms to the farthest reaches of this system.”

  Vance pushed past them both and walked into the crew compartment. Buren stared at the arguing Pilgrims in disbelief after overhearing Vance’s plan.

  “I can guarantee that Goliath won’t fire on you,” Vance said. “You’ll make it free of the star system. I know you don’t understand my plan, nor do you need to. You just have to trust me, like I trust you.

  “While I’m on Goliath, you three will start the long flight back to civilization. You have to let the High Council know what happened here. More than that, you need to tell them about the Empire’s
invasion. If I fail, you’ll die. I understand that. If you fail, millions, if not billions, of Alliance civilians could die in the Terran assault.”

  He took his seat and closed eyes to indicate the debate was over. Decker prodded him for information, trying to learn what Vance planned once he boarded the warship or how he intended to keep them from firing, but the Pilgrim commander remained stoically silent in his webbed seating.

  Frustrated, Decker took his seat farther down the bench and brooded in silence as the Cair Ilmun flew closer. Eventually, it reached Goliath’s dark shadow.

  A mechanical arm extended from the warship. Reaching out like a set of spider legs, they wrapped around the bottom of the Cair Ilmun’s hull. The four survivors lurched as they stopped moving.

  From underfoot, they heard the whistle of metal gears and hydraulics twisting and spinning, while an airtight seal between the ships was established. As air flooded the long metal hallway between the two vessels, the Cair Ilmun shuddered and the light in the airlock turned from red to green, signifying breathable air.

  Yen left his control chair and joined the others in the crew compartment. “Don’t do this, Vance,” he pleaded. “It’s suicide.”

  “I know what you’re trying to do,” Decker said, “and it’s a noble cause, but I agree with Yen. There has to be a better way.”

  Undeterred, Vance opened the floor hatch to expose the long tunnel. Once beyond the hull and the artificial gravity of the ship, he would float freely to a similar hatch on Goliath. Though their conversation was far from over, he yearned to leap into the hole and feel the weight of the past few days lift from him.

  “Yen.” He stared down at his looming fate. “I need you back in the cockpit. Give me a few seconds to get inside and then give this little ship everything it’s got. Get as far from the Goliath as possible.”

  He was startled by a hand in front of his face. Looking up, he saw Yen’s emotional expression. Vance clutched the hand and drew Yen into a hug, knowing the burden he passed on. Not only did Yen have the responsibility of warning the High Council, he also carried the burden of being the last surviving member of their team.

  Vance understood that. Being the sole survivor was never a badge of honor. Instead, it was a persistent nightmare that never left him alone. Without a word, Yen broke the hug and walked to the cockpit.

  Looking over Decker’s shoulder, Vance saw Buren, still strapped to his chair. “Take care of that one, Decker. He’ll get better in time and could become a great asset, but he’ll have a hard path until then.”

  Decker nodded without speaking.

  “Once I’m through the airlock, make sure you seal it behind me, then strap in as quickly as you can. I have the feeling you’ll have a bumpy ride as you escape this system.”

  Vance sat on the edge of the hatch, dangling his legs and feeling weightlessness tug at his pants. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this. I feel I found a kindred spirit in you, someone who reminded me of myself a lifetime ago.” Vance sighed and looked down. “Take care of them, Decker. You’re the one who’ll have to keep struggling to stay alive.”

  Decker extended his hand. “Thank you, Sir, and please, call me Adam.”

  Vance took Adam’s callused hand and shook it firmly, locking eyes with him. When Vance smiled, half his upturned mouth was hidden by his dark beard. “Good luck, Adam.”

  “You, too, Sir.”

  Vance pushed off and dropped through the hatch. Once clear of the Cair Ilmun, his downward momentum stopped, catching him in a gentle float toward the other airlock. Like the hungry maw of a primordial beast, it slid open, revealing inky blackness beyond.

  Above him, Vance saw Adam close the airlock. The outer latch spun, sealing the door and protecting the small ship from dangerous decompression. A sense of loss and sadness washed over Vance when he saw the door close because it slammed shut a long part of his life and severed his ties to the past. Below him, rising closer, a dark future awaited.

  Passing through the airlock, the door sealed shut behind him, casting him into unnatural darkness. Gravity reasserted itself, slamming him onto the deck, while highly oxygenated gas poured from the chamber from ceiling vents.

  Vance hurried to regain his feet, not eager to let Captain Young see him in a submissive pose when he entered. As the interior door slid open, bright light poured in. Squinting, Vance covered his eyes with his hand and walked into the reception chamber beyond.

  Captain Young stood at the base of the stairs at the far end of the barren room. Along the walls and flanking him, the traitorous crew stood in full military regalia, encased in body armor and carrying large-bore rifles. Vance walked through the doorway and stepped in front of the proverbial firing squad.

  Captain Young flashed a predatory grin. “I’m so glad you could join us, Michael.” The smile disappeared, subtly shifting into a snarl. “Where are the others?”

  Vance reached back and pressed the button to close the door behind him. The crew flinched at his sudden movement, and many gripped their rifles in nervous anticipation.

  “They aren’t coming, Captain,” Vance replied.

  The Goliath shook and the floor tipped, tossing many of the crew off their feet. From a narrow exterior window, Captain Young watched the metal docking arm splinter and shatter as the Cair Ilmun fired its engines. As the metal arm broke free, its insect-like fingers slipped from the small ship speeding away. The shaking stopped.

  “Captain,” the intercom blared, “the ship broke free of the docking arm and is trying to flee the system.”

  “I can see that, you idiot!” he shouted, all semblance of civility lost.

  “They’re still within weapons range, Sir. Shall we fire at them?”

  Captain Young turned toward the smug Vance, who stood calmly by the doorway as the crewmen clambered to their feet. The captain’s narrow eyes never left Vance as he said, “There’s no need for that just yet. They can’t outrun us. Once I’m done here, we’ll pursue and destroy the ship. In the meantime, track their movements.”

  “Roger, Sir.”

  The captain glared at Vance as the intercom went silent. He stepped forward and the crew closed in around the two men like prison bars.

  “Why’d you come here, Michael?” the captain hissed, his anger and curiosity palpable in the ship’s recycled air. “What could you ever hope to accomplish by coming here alone?”

  “I came to stop you,” Vance replied coolly, “and to take my revenge for what you did to Halo.”

  Captain Young chortled, which led to full-fledged laughter. The crew, taking their cue, laughed with him.

  “Stop me? Revenge? You came all this way and sacrificed your life because of a woman? Oh, Michael, I never gave you enough credit. I knew you had to be insane to lead covert operations missions for so many years, but you’re well beyond insane. You’re clinical.”

  “Not just a woman!” Vance snapped, cutting off the laughter. “I came here because of Halo and the over one hundred innocent soldiers you murdered on Purseus II. How many others have you betrayed and killed? How much innocent blood is on your hands?”

  “Innocent?” the captain roared back. “There was nothing innocent about those soldiers. How many Terrans have you killed since joining the military, Michael? Dozens? Hundreds? How about thousands? You can preach to me all day long that you were doing it for the good of the Alliance in a time of war. Hopefully, you’re smart enough to realize that’s all I did, too. I defeated my enemy in the name of the Empire during a time of war.”

  “You’re a hypocrite, Michael, and you should’ve had the common decency to die on the planet with the rest of them.”

  “But I didn’t.” Vance’s stoic exterior returned. “I had a greater purpose, one I had yet to accomplish.”

  Captain Young chuckled. “Do tell, Michael. What’s this great purpose?”

  “To kill you before you can turn this ship over to the Terrans.”

  The captain smiled wickedly. “And how do
you propose to do that?”

  “With this.” Vance reached into the dark leather pouch strapped to his hip and pulled out a dark-black sphere. Activating the thermal nuclear bomb was easy while sitting in the darkness after entering the Goliath. As the countdown neared zero, red lights flew around the exterior of the sphere in a dizzying blur.

  Screams of protest and fear erupted as the guards ran for the door. Though stunned, Captain Young stood his ground and watched Vance smugly step forward into the room. Thick laughter rolled from deep in Vance’s chest, filling the room and echoing in the vaulted chamber, as the men frantically tried to flee.

  “This is for Ixibas and Tusque!”

  “Shut up!” Captain Young screamed, drawing his pistol and firing.

  The first round slammed into Vance’s gut and dropped him to one knee. He clutched his stomach with his free hand, trying to stem the flow of blood. Grimacing, he looked up at the Pilgrim traitor.

  “For Nova and Ainj.”

  The captain fired again, hitting Vance’s shoulder. He spun on his knee and fell prone to the floor. Groaning with pain, he said, “For Eza.”

  “Shut up! Shut up!” Frantic, the captain fired twice more. Both slugs tore into Vance’s back, piercing a lung and leaving gaping exit wounds through his chest.

  The metallic taste of copper filled his mouth as sticky blood poured from him. His vision darkened as his strength fled. Sucking oxygen into his remaining lung, he whispered, “Aleiz.”

  The bomb rolled from his limp fingers.

  Captain Young lunged forward, snatching the orb from the floor, and hurried toward the airlock.

  Two steps from the door, the flickering lights stopped moving. A solid red bar illuminated the sphere’s equator.

  The Cair Ilmun nearly cleared the last planet in the system when the Goliath was consumed in flames. Starting with a bubble on its hull, the side of the ship swelled and split as fire engulfed the warship’s interior. Light as bright as a second sun spilled from cracks in the hull before the ship’s armored plating gave way.

  The entire vessel exploded in a soundless vortex of heat and radiation, leaving little more than flecks of debris in its wake. The remains of the Goliath were pulled into the atmosphere of the planet around which it orbited. Small pieces of alloy burned away in the atmosphere. Larger pieces burned like meteors before disappearing into the planet’s cloudy interior.

  Within moments of the explosion, nothing remained of the once-massive Alliance ship.

  Adam silently joined Yen in the cockpit, choosing to watch the empty space ahead instead of the vanishing debris behind. He sought the right words but they failed to come. Instead, he settled on simple conversation to pass the time and help him think of something else.

  “How long until we reach an Alliance outpost?” he asked softly. Glancing over his shoulder, he wasn’t surprised to see Buren in a sullen pose.

  Yen cleared his throat, brushing away the thick emotion in his voice. “It’ll be almost a month before we’re able to find anything capable of transmitting to the High Council.”

  “Once we get there, that’s only the beginning of what we need to accomplish,” Adam added, beginning a mental checklist of their future work. “We have to notify the High Council of the Empire’s invasion. We need to tell them about the genetic mutations on Purseus II. We have to warn them that something like it could exist elsewhere in Alliance space. We have to….”

  The rest of the sentence went unsaid for fear of upsetting Yen further.

  Finally, Yen said what Adam couldn't. “We have to notify them of all those who died.”

  “I’m sorry, Yen. I truly am. Once we get there, we’ll have a whole lot to do.” He remembered his final conversation with Vance and the promise he made to look after the survivors. “We have lots of promises to keep.”

  Yen slipped the ID tags from under his shirt. Holding them in his hand, he read the laser-etched name printed on both metal tags—Eza Riddell. “More than you know,” he whispered into the quiet cabin.