Burden of Sisyphus bod-1

by Jon Messenger

  From his vantage point, the vessel of destruction clashed violently with the serene beauty of the planet below. In his own mind, Vance was very much the flesh-and-blood version of the Goliath, constantly clashing with the beauty of the world around him. Over his past seven years in command of the team, he went to many beautiful planets like the one below-always with malicious intent, including assassination, destruction of Terran outposts, and kidnapping. His team spilt red blood across the sparkling white sands of dozens of worlds.

  As he watched, another transport launched from the Goliath, heading toward the planet’s surface. He smiled at his most-recent iteration of soldiers. Eza Riddell, the Wyndgaart warrior, was the eldest team member, having served with Vance for two years. All the others were recent additions within the past six months. Already, they coalesced into a dangerous, proficient team, but they were still young and vivacious.

  Vance, however, began feeling his age. Though still in his thirties, seven years of command took their toll on his body and spirit.

  A series of faces slashed through his mind, images of former soldiers who served under him. His heart ached, as he realized that nearly half of them were killed in the line of duty. Vance was a fluke of the system, lasting long past the three-year life expectancy for covert operations soldiers. Though he knew his current unit was one of the best ever, he still missed the days of having more-mature soldiers under his command.

  With a pang, he realized he missed mature soldiers like Aleiz.

  Looking down at his watch, he realized nearly two hours had passed since his team departed for the planet’s surface. Calculations and coordination with planet-side supply crews should have been completed, which meant Halo’s attention could be undividedly his. Though, he conceded, splitting her attention until she was overloaded with tasks was nearly impossible.

  Stepping off the lift at one of the central floors, he walked to the heart of the ship, following a single silver line of paint on the wall. He walked those corridors so many times, he no longer needed a guide, but still he ran his fingers over the silver trail while he walked. Turning onto a side hall, the line ended at a doorway with the words, High Altitude Logistical Operations (HALO).

  As he reached to knock, the door slid open. Standing awkwardly in the hall with his hand still raised, he shook his head. Halo always knew what he was thinking before he could verbalize it. Stepping into the room’s cold darkness, he let his eyes adjust, while his breath formed clouds of condensation.

  “Hello, Michael,” a soft, feminine voice said, her words amplified by the speakers lining the walls. “I wondered what was taking you so long on the observation deck.”

  “Does the fact that you were watching me mean you care?” he asked the darkness.

  Halo replied with a soft laugh, the tone slightly lost by the mechanical undertones from the speakers. “Come and sit with me.”

  The lights in the room glowed softly, adding gentle mood lighting to the still-shadowed room. In the dimness, he walked to the single chair that dominated the otherwise-empty room.

  Halo reclined in the chair, her body conforming to the seat’s thick cushions. Her barely discernable female form was naked, though all sense of modesty was lost among the thick, black cables snaking from her body. From her eye sockets, permanently open mouth, breasts, arms, and snaking from her genitals, ribbed black tubes carried her consciousness to the giant computer console before her prostrate form. Though unseen, within those tubes was a multitude of wires that created a direct connection between Halo’s brain and Goliath’s higher mechanical functions. Those wires kept her bodily functions performing normally, including removal of waste. For the lithe female in the chair, it was months since she volunteered for the Halo program and was fully integrated with the system. Though she was aware the ship could function without her, she had become Goliath.

  Vance reached the side of the chair, his jacket pulled tightly around his body, his breath escaping in clouds. Though the room was frigid to ensure no damage was done to the computer system, Halo seemed unaffected. She didn’t move, though he noticed a series of video cameras around the room tracking his movements.

  “I didn’t want to interrupt in case you were busy,” he said.

  “You could’ve come at any time.” Her voice came eerily from eight separate speakers around the room, an effect that strengthened her integration with the ship. “No matter what I was doing, you wouldn’t have been a bother. My lower brain functions can run the ship for years while I talk with you.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind next time.” He placed his hand on her arm, feeling her skin icy to the touch, and quickly changed the subject. “You look healthy.”

  “Healthy?” She laughed sweetly. “We’ve been together for five years, and all you can say is I look healthy?”

  He smiled and ran his hand over her clean-shaven scalp. “Well, you looked a lot better with hair.” Personal grooming was the only thing the computer couldn’t maintain for her. To ensure her body remained as sterile as possible, all Halo’s body hair was removed every day by an assigned crewman.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t join the rest of the team for some much-deserved vacation time.” She changed the subject almost as artfully as he did. “You would’ve enjoyed Fatutu IV.”

  “This is relaxation for me.” He gently squeezed her hand. “We don’t get to spend a lot of time together anymore unless it’s between missions. I miss that time.”

  “What would you like to do?”

  “Oh there are so many choices. I can sit and watch you not move, or I could guess which speaker you’re talking through. I don’t know where to begin.”

  “You really are a jerk.” She laughed.

  “I wish I could take you out of here,” he said seriously. “From everything I can see, you would’ve enjoyed this planet.”

  “I know I would have. Michael, I know you still aren’t comfortable with what I’ve become.”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “You forget I have six video cameras watching and analyzing every facial expression you make.”

  “It’s not that I don’t like what you’ve become.” He ran his fingers over her arm, gingerly avoiding the black tube attached to the veins at the crook of her elbow. “I know this was the opportunity of a lifetime, being one of the first volunteers for the Halo program. I just miss the time we used to spend together. I love Halo, but I miss Aleiz. Does that make sense?”

  “After five years, I still wouldn’t have pegged you for a softie. Shall I have a crewman bring you a tissue?”

  “Oh, you’re full of jokes today. Fine. No more sweet talk. What would you like to do today?”

  “Well, there’s sit and watch me not move….”

  After a few days’ vacation time, Vance was again in deep conversation with Halo when his transponder chirped.

  “Magistrate Vance, this is Captain Young.”

  Vance raised an eyebrow. He didn’t expect to hear from the captain for at least another week. “This is Vance.”

  “Sorry to do this to you, Michael, but we’ve had a change of plans. I have a new mission coming down the pipe for you and your team.”

  Vance turned off the radio before turning to Halo. “Do you know anything about this?”

  “No, but judging from the amount of radio chatter, it’ll be a fairly large operation. Aside from recalling your team, the captain has activated four platoons of infantry.”

  “When have we ever needed that many soldiers for a mission?” he asked arrogantly. Pressing the transmit button, he said, “Sir, I hear my team is already in transit from the planet?”

  “Yes. They’re on their way.” The captain chuckled.

  “When and where do you need us?”

  “They’ll be onboard within two hours. I’ll give everyone another hour to get back into uniform before you and your team report to the briefing room. You’ll be joined by the four sets of platoon leaders for your support units.”

 
; “Sir,” he said slowly, not wishing to insult his mentor, “my team has never needed such a large support staff.”

  “I’ll fill you in when you arrive. Get your things in order and meet me in the briefing room. Captain Young, out.”

  Vance lowered his radio and shrugged to Halo, knowing she was still watching, though she was processing thousands of radio communications and ship requests. She could answer him if he asked her a question, but she was beginning to lose herself in the intricacies of the ship.

  “Well, Lover,” he said, leaning over her still form, “it seems like we’re both about to get a lot busier. Take care. I’ll stop by before we leave for the mission.”

  “Be safe,” she replied, though her electronic voice sounded distant and distracted. “If I hear anything before you do, I’ll be sure to let you know.”

  Vance leaned over to kiss her cold forehead. Wordlessly, he turned and left the sealed room, shedding his jacket after he left the arctic chill. He turned away from his team’s cabins, knowing he had one more responsibility before the team returned from leave.

  Like he did on every mission before, Vance went through a maze of halls to stop before a sealed door with a code panel on one side. Entering his commander’s code, he opened the door. Lights above came on automatically, as he entered the expansive armory his team used.

  Ignoring the multitude of pistols, rifles, explosives, and Ainj’s series of sniper rifles, he stopped before a two-foot-by-two-foot safe. After receiving his commander’s code and processing his thumbprint, tumblers clicked into place with a resounding thump. Opening the safe door, Vance removed a six-inch-diameter black sphere. The seamless, glossy surface glistened in the halogen lighting, as he turned the nondescript orb in his hand.

  Satisfied, he carefully slid the black sphere into the assault pack on his belt before leaving the armory, letting the door slide closed and seal behind him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Keryn’s body screamed in protest, as she awoke and threw back the blankets, exposing herself to the cold morning air. Though it was warm outside, a perpetual chill permeated the barracks in which the cadets slept, leaving her shivering, as she sat up. Her back arched, as she leaned down to put on her slippers, and the broad bruise on her shoulder glowed angry purple. Pouting, she stood and stretched, feeling new pain spread through her body.

  For the past week, the instructors put the cadets through a rigorous physical-training program designed to identify each student’s physical strengths and weaknesses. Finding something at which she excelled, she pushed her body to its limits. Having undergone years of warrior training during her definitive school years, Keryn was more adaptive and possessed far more endurance than most, especially the frail Avalons. She was quickly identified as a front-runner in the class, a position that held both praise from her instructors and scorn from her fellow students. If Keryn learned anything from her previous training, it was that the person in front became an easy target to be stabbed in the back.

  To her surprise, Iana also performed impressively. Though shorter than Keryn, her bright personality betrayed an impressive inner strength and belied her thin, muscular frame. To Keryn’s chagrin, however, the Pilgrim seemed more adaptable and rebounded quicker from injuries. While Keryn still nursed an injured shoulder, Iana showed no wounds from the painful training.

  “Good morning,” Iana called from the bathroom, when Keryn reached the door. Her nauseating morning enthusiasm proved her resilience. “I was starting to worry you’d oversleep.”

  Keryn, yawning, leaned heavily against the doorframe. Iana, already showered and dressed, stood before the mirror to pull her long, blonde hair into a tight bun. By contrast, Keryn caught her own reflection and saw that the bruise on her shoulder extended slightly to her neck. It was a wound, she realized, that would be visible even when wearing the high-collared gray uniforms. Her eyes were still red from lack of sleep, and her fine silver hair was disheveled and flattened against the right side of her head.

  “I couldn’t sleep if I wanted to,” she mumbled, pulling her loose shirt over her head. “You were singing in the shower again. No one can sleep through that.”

  Her hands still caught in the folds of her shirt, Keryn was still able to deflect the playfully thrown brush. Laughing, Iana moved out of the way, so Keryn could examine herself closer in the mirror. Standing topless, she lifted her arm to look at a second bruise spreading across her ribs.

  “That Oterian got you pretty good,” Iana remarked, admiring the colors of the bruise, as it faded from purple to green to yellow near the center.

  Grumbling, Keryn slid free of her loose shorts and tossed them toward the hamper in the corner. Naked, she stepped into the shower and turned on the water jets. Steam poured from the enclosed shower, as hot water from the faucets drove off the morning chill.

  Moving inside the shower, she gasped in surprise, as hot water washed over her cold skin. Gooseflesh spread across her, as the warmth soaked into tense muscles and aching joints. Tilting back her head, she let the hot water cascade through her long hair and run down her face, tracing the line of her neck before spilling over the curves of her body. She sighed, feeling relaxed and rejuvenated.

  “Don’t take too long in there, or you’ll be late,” Iana said, leaving the bathroom.

  Tipping her head forward, Keryn realized her roommate’s sweet voice and blunt reminder shattered the sanctity of her morning shower. Lathering and rinsing quickly, she frowned.

  Turning off the water, she dried quickly and dressed, skipping most of the primping Iana favored. Finally ready, her hair dripping slightly, she left the bathroom to join her roommate, who waited patiently by the door.

  The halls were full of cadets moving between classes. The first-year students they passed contained a collective enthusiasm that was hard to ignore. Even Keryn, who considered herself far from a morning person, found herself swept up in the excitement. Their first class for the day was a new one for Keryn and Iana. Piloting was considered the single most-important class at the Academy, since it involved more of the hands-on pilot training than any other section on campus.

  Since it was their first class, first-year cadets had the chance to place initial requests on the type of ship they wanted to pilot on graduation. For Keryn, the choices were still too numerous. Still, her heart pounded by the time they entered the doorway to the classroom and took their seats.

  An anticipatory hush fell over the room. Keryn sat up straighter, trying to see over the male Uligart sitting in front of her. Finally, the teacher’s door opened, and a familiar Avalon appeared.

  “Welcome to the most-important course you’re ever take,” Victoria said, setting down her personal console and connecting it to the room’s electronic network. Screens on each desk flickered, reflecting the image projected from her computer.

  “Today, you’ll all be going through a crash course on piloting.”

  Soft laughter came from the students.

  “I intend to fill your minds with all the classroom instruction you can manage today, because tomorrow, I’ll be putting you through the steps in a hands-on block of instruction. Study hard today, and tomorrow will be a breeze. Struggle with concepts today….” She paused and smiled wickedly. “Well, luckily, we have a medical team on site to treat your wounds.

  “Before I can abuse your bodies, however, I intend to abuse your minds. If you look in front of you, we’ll start reviewing the major ships of the Fleet, starting with the smallest.”

  The screen before Keryn shifted its image, projecting the three-dimensional image of a small, dart-like fighter. Its sleek body design left room for only a single pilot. Rotating the image, Keryn examined rows of missiles and machine guns affixed to the ship’s underbelly.

  “The Duun fighter,” Victoria stated, “the personal fighters of the Alliance Fleet. Quick and maneuverable, the Duun is the main choice of most pilots who graduate from the Academy. Their heavy arsenal is capable of raining destruction down o
n any squadron of Terran fighters.

  “However, the small ships also serve a second purpose. The Duun is capable of electronically controlling up to two large-bore plasma missiles fired from one of the cruisers. Once a missile falls under a fighter’s control, the rocket remains in orbit around your ship until fired using your ship’s internal targeting system. A single Duun carrying two plasma missiles can bring down an uninjured Terran destroyer if struck in the correct locations.”

  The image flickered, and the small fighter enlarged. The hull elongated, widened, and flattened, granting space for more crewmembers. Long wings extended from each side, adding stability to the larger ship.

  “The Cair transport,” Victoria said. “The Cair is a vital part of the Fleet’s arsenal. Aside from being the main transport for personnel moving from orbit to a planet’s surface, the Cair is also used during combat to deliver an assault team to a disabled enemy ship. The pilot of the Cair ship becomes more than just an aloof loner, instead being fully integrated into a team. You become more than a faceless individual sitting in the cockpit. You’re a vital member of a strike force, infiltrating and clearing enemy vessels. Though not as heavily armed as the Duun fighter, the Cair….”

  Though Victoria continued talking, her singing voice drifted into the background, as Keryn stared at the Cair image rotating before her. The Voice inside her grew exited at the prospect of flying a Duun, but Keryn knew its desire was derived more from the Wyndgaart mentality, in which a warrior relied on no one but himself.

  Keryn, though, always found a deeper passion being part of something greater than herself. The Duun appealed to her baser instincts, but she yearned to be part of a team. She didn’t want to just be part of a squadron, like a series of fighters, but to be an integral member of an assault force. Her heart ached for the camaraderie her brother, Eza, described in his letters. Though a warrior, he spoke highly of his teammates and the bond they shared.