Burden of Sisyphus bod-1

by Jon Messenger

  Yen and Eza moved to the right, winding through dark passages lit only by emergency lights. As they approached the first closed door, the pair stopped. Air shimmered around Yen, as if his skin smoldered. Slowly, it receded, and he sighed.

  “There’s no one inside,” Yen said. “Let’s keep moving.”

  They performed the routine before three more doors, moving deeper into the plateau. The passages were disturbingly devoid of Terran soldiers, though neither Yen nor Eza believed all had been killed in the courtyard.

  After following several winding passages, the pair finally stood outside a large metal door blocking their way. A number pad was embedded to the right of the door, with a bright red light glowing above it.

  “We’re locked out,” Eza said. “We could use Nova right now.”

  “Our computer wizard left, unfortunately.” The air wavered around him.

  “There’s another way.” Eza smiled and pulled a block of explosives from his bag.

  Yen held up his hand to silence Eza, sensing five distinct life forms in the room. Their thoughts, though unclear, gave him vague impressions of ambush and defense.

  “This is it,” he told Eza. “I’ll see if I can get us through the door without bringing down the roof on us.”

  Eza frowned in disappointment. “Fine. Have it your way.”

  Reaching out, Yen contacted the closest mind and pushed his way past the muddled fog of fear and nervousness to reach a cache of recent memories. Smiling, he retreated from the mind and rejoined his body.

  “Got it,” Yen said, walking to the number pad. “You ready?”

  Eza slid both his curved ax and handgun from his belt. Breathing deeply, he let his mind settle and the nervous energy drain from his body. In the back of his mind, a soft Voice began whispering, filling him with confidence. He spun the ax effortlessly, as he began weaving back and forth on the balls of his feet.

  We’re ready, the Voice whispered.

  “I’m ready,” Eza echoed into the gloomy hallway.

  Nodding, Yen entered the door code. The light above the panel changed from bright red to vibrant green, and the metal door slid open with a hiss.

  Time slowed for Eza, as he entered the room, his eyes scanning overturned tables and stacked steel chairs to create impromptu barricades. To the left and right, stairs led to raised platforms where two Terran soldiers moved as if through fog, training their weapons on the Wyndgaart fighter. In front of him, three more Terrans took cover behind their fortified positions.

  Eza was already running up the left stairs before the slow pounding of automatic fire began. The soldier on the platform swung his rifle to aim at the fast-moving target, but Eza dropped to the ground and slid, kicking a metal chair into the Terran’s legs.

  Flipping headfirst to the ground, the Terran’s face slammed into the raised platform, shattering his nose and sending teeth and blood skittering across the floor. Regaining his feet, Eza brought down his ax on the back of the fallen soldier’s head, slicing cleanly through the dense skull. The top of the Terran’s head slid across the ground, as blood poured from the gaping maw of his brain cavity. Eza slid behind a nearby table for cover, as bullets struck the wall behind him.

  When the Terrans’ attention was distracted, Yen stepped into the doorway and fired at the soldier on the raised right side of the room. His rounds caught the unsuspecting Terran in the shoulder and side of the knee. Screaming in pain, he collapsed to the ground, his rifle slipping from his fingers and sliding out of reach. Yen lunged back behind the wall, as the Terrans on the ground floor returned fire.

  Their team rehearsed tactics like these many times. As the enemy shifted attention back and forth between the two targets, Eza and Yen took advantage of the openings. With the Terrans firing at Yen, Eza leaped from the raised platform. He threw his ax while in mid-flip, catching the closest Terran in the chest and lifting him from his feet. Soldier and ax, tumbling over nearby furniture, splayed onto the ground.

  Eza landed and rolled, coming to his feet inches from the second Terran. The soldier tried to bring his rifle to bear, but Eza easily knocked it aside with his open hand. He raised his pistol with his free hand and fired multiple shots into the soldier’s abdomen. Gurgling, blood pooling around his groin and running freely down his legs, he slid to the ground and died.

  The final Terran aimed at Eza, as the dead soldier slid to the floor. Before he could pull the trigger, his face went slack, and his eyes filled with perplexity. A single shot echoed in the room, as Yen shot the man in the back. The air around him wavered, as he released the Terran’s nervous system. The soldier, no longer paralyzed, exhaled a final breath.

  Wordlessly, Eza collected his ax and stalked to the wounded Terran on the right landing. He tried to drag himself to his rifle, but explosions of pain shot through his shattered knee. Eza stepped up behind him, straddling the crawling soldier, and swung his arm in an arc, bringing it down repeatedly on the injured man.

  Satisfied the soldier was dead, Eza, covered in blood, turned to Yen. “You couldn’t have killed him instead of just winging him?” He stared at the dismembered soldier lying before him, the look of intense concentration leaving his face.

  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.

  CHAPTER TWO

  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.

  When Earth invented interstellar travel and began colonizing known space, a special breed of explorers volunteered to settle the outskirts of the known universe. Detached from the rest of the Terran Empire, the far settlers, nicknamed Pilgrims in reference to an old Terran story, established lasting trade relations and friendships with the Uligarts, the first alien race the Terrans encountered during their exploration.

  Steadily, the Empire met more and more alien races, each with differing levels of technology. The Terrans seemed intent on establishing peaceful negotiations with the races until explorers unknowingly invaded Lithid space. The black-skinned, featureless assassins destroyed the Empire’s ships, killing thousands of scientists, settlers, and soldiers.

  In response, the Empire declared war on the Lithids and enforced martial law on all colonies. The Pilgrims, who settled in close relations with the Uligarts, resisted the Empire’s military jurisdiction, finally severing themselves from the Terran Empire and siding with the newly formed Interstellar Alliance. Vance was one of thousands of Pilgrims serving in the Alliance military, though their features always betrayed them as being of Terran origin.

  “All right,” Vance said, knowing their attention wouldn’t last much longer. “I’ll brief the captain and will let you know when we have our next mission. Take time to relax. Believe me, you earned it.”

  “This coming from a man who’s both older and wiser than all of us,” Nova told the others.

  “Well, he’s wiser.” Ainj glanced at the still-naked Wyndgaart standing at the shower room door.

  “And definitely older.” Eza waved his hand and his manhood at the retreating Pilgrim.

  Shaking his head in disgust, Vance left and closed the door behind him.

  “We’ll miss you.” Nova giggled, as Ainj kissed the crook of her neck.

  Eza disappeared into the shower room while the others began unpacking their gear and changing into more-comfortable clothing. Unlacing his boots, Yen looked at the massive Tusque, whose reinforced bed still sagged under his weight.

  “You’ve been awfully quiet.” Yen removed the first boot.

  “I came out of the infantry before joining this group,” he rumbled, his voice sounding like rolling thunder. The bed creaked under him, as he shifted his bulk on the sturdy mattress. “Officers still make me nervous.”

  “Did I just hear that right?” Ainj slid off the bed and walked over. “Something actually makes you nervous?”

  Nova sauntered over, resting her head on Ainj’s shoulder and sighing. “Since it seems like hanging out with the boys is more important than spending time with me….”

  A loud knock interrupted the joking. Eza rushed from the shower, naked and dripping water on the floor.

  “Was that someone at the door?” he asked excitedly. “I’m expecting mail from home.”

  He made it a few steps from the shower room before a spiny black hand was placed against his chest.

  “Pants,” the Lithid ordered. “Now.”

  Eza, looking dejected, frowned at him
. “I don’t think I like you anymore.”

  “You don’t have to like me, but you do have to put on pants.”

  His frown deepening, Eza retreated to the shower room, while Nova went to the door. It slid open, revealing a Crewman First Class, holding a bag defensively in front of him.

  “Mail delivery.” He held out the bag. “We’ve been collecting it since your team departed.”

  Nova took the bag, offering the crewman a warm smile, which he confidently returned. In response, she shut the door in his face.

  “Mail delivery,” she said.

  The entire team, save Ixibas, hurried to the central table, as Nova carried the bag over and carelessly dumped it before the eager group. A multitude of packages spilled out and were quickly divided among them. Eza ran from the shower room wearing only pants, water dripping from his golden hair.

  Foodstuffs were passed around, as each member shared the contents of the boxes. Many items, such as disks full of local news and boxes of clothing, were discarded into a growing pile of trash. As Nova opened her box, thin mist poured from the punctured sides. Lifting the lid, she tossed the box onto the table in revulsion.

  The team leaned over the opened box. From the mist, six bulbous insects appeared. On their backs, skewered into the packaging, the cooked larvae produced a rancid odor. Yen turned away, dry heaving from the scent.

  “Why do your parents insist on sending you those?” Ainj asked in disgust.

  “They mean well.” She covered her nose, her eyes watering from the smell.

  “Those insects are actually a delicacy on her planet,” Ixibas said, joining the team.

  “And deep-fried fetuses are a delicacy among the Oterians,” Tusque rumbled. “It doesn’t mean I have any interest in trying one.”

  Ixibas ran a closed hand over the top of the nearest insect. “So it’s safe to assume no one has any objections to my taking these?”

  “That’s disgusting!” Tusque said, clearly nauseous. “How can you eat those?”

  “I love them.”

  “No, I think he means it literally,” Yen said, while the others laughed. “You don’t have a mouth.”