By the time the office door opened, and Keryn was called in, she was beyond dread and entered a realm of nervousness she couldn’t describe. All her hard work getting accepted to the Academy as a Wyndgaart hung in delicate balance. Her fate rested firmly in the unforgiving hands of the Academy’s dean. Swallowing hard, she stood and walked into the office.
The room was a cacophony of memorabilia collected from the dean’s years as a fleet captain before accepting the honored position at the Academy. Certificates and medals were framed in shadow boxes, mounted on the left and right walls. The rear wall was surprisingly barren. The shelves held only a few items, though their significance to the dean was obvious.
Braced by a stand, a copy of the Salisha, the holy text of the Avalon religion, was proudly displayed. Beside it, a bronze-cast figure of Itharial the Martyr sat on display. Though Keryn was well aware of the Avalon’s deep-seated religious beliefs, she always found the figure of the Martyr disturbing. The statue showed the Martyr in traditional pose at the moment of death. Pierced through the abdomen by a spear, Itharial was suspended prostrate, his arms cast wide and eyes staring toward the heavens. His mouth was agape, crying out a defiant challenge to both his assassins and the heavens. Above both the holy text and the Martyr, familiar Avalon words were carved on a banner framing the dean’s chair—Shirath Esquideuz Pithyas.
A polite cough brought Keryn’s attention away from the decorations and the dark-haired Avalon. Dean Brothius reclined in his tall-backed chair behind his broad, wooden desk. The dour look on his face told her all she needed to know about his mood. He was dreadfully unhappy.
“Cadet Riddell.” His soft voice carried through the room, and those two simple words made dread return twofold within her. The dean glanced briefly at Victoria, who stood beside him, before continuing. “Cadet Riddell, you’ve shown a great disregard for all the policy and regulations that I’ve enforced throughout my reign as dean of this institution. Those policies aren’t enacted to make your life more difficult. They’re in place to ensure everything runs smoothly here, and my students are protected at all times. You sent fellow cadets and one of my instructors to the infirmary. Therefore, you’re the single reason my students aren’t currently protected.”
Keryn swallowed hard and tried to speak. “Sir, I’m truly sorry for my actions….”
“Spare me your half-hearted excuses, Cadet!” He slammed his fist against the table. “I don’t want to hear rehearsed excuses and justifications for your actions. I’m not concerned about any teasing or goading that might’ve gone on from the other students. I’ve already heard it all from Magistrate Victoria.
“You might’ve been teased incessantly by the other students, Cadet Pythril included, but there’s a large leap that must occur when the situation escalates from verbal confrontation to physical violence. You chose to turn a confrontation, which you could’ve walked away from, into one that left a student hospitalized for the next few days. That behavior is unacceptable as long as I’m the dean of this Academy!”
Taking a deep breath, he smoothed back stray black hairs that fell loose to hang in front of his face. When he spoke again, his voice returned to the quiet, reserved tone he started with.
“What you’ve done is grounds for immediate expulsion.”
Keryn closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, fighting back a surge of emotion. All her hard work was disappearing in a cloud of smoke before her, because she couldn’t control her temper. The Academy got the better of her, and she used self-pity as an excuse to lash out at another student.
“However….”
Keryn’s heart pounded in her chest. She stole a glance at the dean, as she opened her eyes. Preparing for the worst, she hadn’t expected him to say anything but to pack her bags.
“For some reason I have yet to fathom, Magistrate Victoria speaks very highly of you and your potential. Against my own wishes, she has decided to become your advocate. There’s something she sees in you that’s obscured to my own vision. For that, she believes I should give you a second chance.”
Looking at Victoria, Keryn couldn’t hide her surprise. Victoria’s face remained as stoic as a block of ice, as she stared back at the nervous cadet.
“Do you deserve a second chance?” the dean asked, raising his hand to stop Keryn before she could reply. “The question was merely rhetorical, since your opinion isn’t a factor in my decision. I weighed both options closely before rendering a decision.
“On the one hand, you’ve proven that you’re dangerous. Whenever your temper gets the better of you, I fear I’ll see this same behavior. The Academy is filled with hidden stressors meant to test the flexibility and endurance of the cadets. This early in the year, you’ve already fallen victim to your baser instincts. How should I explain your actions to others if I let you stay, only to have you repeat tonight’s brutal assault?
“On the other hand, you’ve shown exceptional fighting skills, which are further proven by the confrontation tonight. You challenged and handily defeated a much-larger foe with no fear whatsoever. You slipped a strike past the defenses of a well-trained instructor. Though your behavior was reprehensible, your technique was flawless. If you could manage to translate your fighting skills on the ground into piloting skills in the air, you’d be an unstoppable force for the Alliance Fleet.”
The dean folded his hands before his face, as if lost in deep thought. When he spoke, Keryn strained to hear his words.
“You see my dilemma, Cadet Riddell. Either I knowingly keep a potentially lethal weapon in this institute, or I risk losing a cadet with boundless potential.”
He raised his head and met her gaze. “What would you have me do? What would you do, were you faced with such a decision?”
The question caught her by surprise. It took a few seconds before she realized that he genuinely wanted a response. Clearing her throat, she started to speak, only to quickly close her mouth.
She almost told him to keep her. Keryn wanted to explain all she had to offer to the Fleet, as a pilot and fighter, to ask if he understood how great a loss she would be if he let her go.
Before she could speak, however, another thought entered her mind. Keryn wasn’t sure if it was the Voice granting her insight from dozens of previous generations, or if she finally took a moment to be more objective about her case. Whatever the reason, she couldn’t shake the thought.
“Sir, if I were in your position, I’d expel me from the Academy.”
It seemed preposterous that she’d openly tell him such a thing after all she did to get to the Academy in the first place, but she couldn’t shake the feeling it was the right answer.
Dean Brothius nodded slowly. “The Salisha teaches that every person must be both humble and honest, lest they fall victim to the vices of pride and deceit. I’m proud to hear you say that you should be expelled. An honest assessment of one’s position is the first step toward changing your sinning ways.
“I believe Magistrate Victoria’s recommendation is the correct one. You won’t be expelled, Cadet Riddell.”
Keryn sighed, unaware she had been holding her breath. Shaking softly, she let nervous energy flee after being pent up for so long.
“Don’t misunderstand, Cadet. You erred greatly when you struck a fellow cadet and an instructor. As far as I’m concerned, you’re at the very bottom of your class. You’ll have to perform exceptionally well to prove your worth to me and Magistrate Victoria.”
“I understand, Sir,” she said softly.
“You’ve received the only redemption you’ll ever have while attending this institution. If you make another poor judgment call like tonight, I’ll expel you on the spot. I don’t mean you’ll be on suspension for a week or a month. If you make any mistakes in the next two years, you’ll be sent home immediately.”
Keryn nodded.
The dean turned toward Victoria. “Magistrate, please give us a moment.”
Surprised, Victoria stepped hesitantly from behind the d
esk and strode toward the door, glancing back several times. As the door clicked softly closed behind her, the dean gestured Keryn to take a seat.
“I wanted a second to speak to you alone, Cadet Riddell. I meant what I said when I told you that you had great potential. I see the same thing Magistrate Victoria does. You could be the top of your class if you’d only find a way to get past your anger and find your metaphorical center.”
He turned his chair, so Keryn saw his profile. Glancing to the wall behind him, he looked up at the ancient Avalon script written on the wall.
“I saw you when you entered. You took a great interest in the words written above my chair.”
“Yes, Sir. They’re the same words written on the banner held in the statue’s hand in the courtyard.”
He smiled and turned back to her. “That’s correct, Keryn. Do you mind if I call you Keryn?”
She shook her head.
“Do you know what those words mean?”
Keryn looked at the strange words again. “No, Sir, I don’t. I tried asking earlier this year, but I never got a good response.”
“The words are a passage from the Salisha. Shirath Esquideuz Pithyas mean No One Is Greater. Do you believe in a god, Keryn?”
She remembered the reliefs carved into the coral leading to the Shrine of Initiation. For many Wyndgaarts, the embodiment of the Voice was a higher power. They believed the Voice was cast into each unmolded child at the time of conception by a higher power, called only the Nameless One, that watched over every Wyndgaart when he went into battle. Keryn had never been one to accept spirituality, always finding true faith in science. Every battle consisted of a disciplined understanding of physics and trajectories, gravitational pulls, and elevation. To understand those left little room for religious superstitions.
“I’m sorry,” she replied, “but I don’t.”
“Then, perhaps, that’s your greatest weakness. Believing in no one but yourself means you don’t think there’s a higher power above you. Without a god by which the universe was created, it means you don’t believe in a god that lies at the center of reality. In that case, you must believe that you reside in the center, that you truly are the center of your own universe. I warn you, Keryn, that to believe such is folly and arrogance, neither of which have a place in the Alliance.”
He turned back to the script on the wall. “This passage should mean more to you than any of the other cadets. I’ve read that passage in the Salisha many times and have come to learn its meaning over time. The words have a twofold meaning.
“First, they mean simply, as one would expect, that no one individual is greater than God. The center of the universe can’t be shared between you and God. In time, you must realize it’s your place to subjugate yourself to a higher power.
“The other meaning I’ve gleaned comes straight from the passage’s use in history. Do you know why that phrase is so prominently displayed on the statue in front of the Academy?”
Keryn admitted she didn’t.
“During the first meeting of the newly formed Alliance Parliament, nearly 150 years ago, the Avalon representative was a great warrior and scholar named Etherius. His statue stands in the courtyard, welcoming students to this institute.
“That first meeting of Parliament was a madhouse. All races spoke simultaneously of the newly discovered threat of the Terran Empire. To the Alliance races, each knew it had unique strengths that would benefit the new army, and each had a reason why it should be the one to lead as the premier race in the new government.
“Irritated with their petty bickering, Etherius, a pious crusader, leaped upon the central table of Parliament and proudly brandished his spear, shouting the words, ‘Shirath Esquideuz Pithyas.’ The stunned Parliament fell silent to hear what he had to say. He told them its meaning was that no one was greater. To each race, he explained the strengths it offered to the Alliance and why each was vital. In the end, however, he also told them that without each other for support, they would fail individually.
“That’s the personal meaning of No One Is Greater and why I chose to apply it to this academy.
“You’re a great student, Keryn, but without the support of your fellow cadets, you’re destined to fail alone. Even if I can’t convince you to believe in a power greater than your own, at least take this meaning of Etherius’ words to heart. Find whatever strength you have within you to excel at the individual challenges you’ll face in the Academy, but never lose sight of the fact that eventually, you have to rely on those around you to succeed. Every pilot is part of a squadron or fleet. Even if you’re the best pilot in the Alliance, you’ll die without someone to support you.”
Dean Brothius stood. Keryn immediately stood and braced in a salute.
“Get some rest tonight, Keryn,” he said. “Remember always that tomorrow is a new day. When you come to the aerial joust tomorrow, I expect to see a changed woman, one who understands the importance of a team and friends. Also remember, you’re at the end of your rope. You have no more room for error within these walls.”
As he returned her salute, Keryn turned quickly and left. Walking from the office, she passed Victoria, who stared inquisitively at her. Keryn’s mind was a jumbled mess, as she walked back to her barracks room. Though eternally relieved at not being expelled, the dean’s words haunted her. Even more so, the story of Etherius haunted her. She saw him standing proudly atop the Parliament table, wings unfurled to catch the morning sun, as his strong voice filled the chamber. His message stayed with her, repeatedly echoing through her mind.
Shirath Esquideuz Pithyas. No one is greater.
As she undressed that night and climbed into bed, her mind continued spinning. Though sleep came quickly, her night was filled with strange dreams.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The door slammed loudly behind Vance, as he sealed the outpost’s entryway. Deep gloom enveloped him, broken only by meager twilight filtering through cracks in the nearby windows. Like the door, they were reinforced by whoever took refuge within the outpost. Though he felt safer inside, he knew no one was left alive within, which meant the building’s defenses had a weakness.
Behind him, the door heaved, as a Seque threw its weight against it. The metal latch held strong, but Vance was lifted from his feet with each shove. The remaining survivors watched him try to hold the door, shock clear on their features, as they remembered injuries, fleeing, and watching comrades die. Those soldiers needed a purpose, or they’d be content to sit down in the middle of the floor and wait to die.
“You two.” He looked at the two closest infantry. He didn’t know their names and feared he’d never have time before they joined the rest of their half-eaten friends. “Grab anything you can to reinforce this door. Put your weight against it if you have to, but make sure nothing comes through.”
As they held the door, Vance stepped away with a purpose and angrily approached Yen. Grabbing the edges of his body armor, he slammed Yen against the wall.
“Why’d you do it?” he shouted, his face inches from Yen’s. “Why’d you have to open that disk? You couldn’t keep your gods-be-damned curiosity in check for one mission!”
“What are you…?” Yen stopped when he saw Vance’s determination. His mouth slowly closed, but he matched Vance’s stare.
“You couldn’t have left well enough alone, could you?” Vance shouted.
“I think you need to settle down.” The air around Yen wavered slightly, as his power built.
Vance noticed and snarled, then began shaking Yen so violently, his determination—and the haze—vanished. “Don’t you dare try to use your powers on me, you bastard!” He shook him again.
A hand closed over Vance’s arm. When he turned, he was face-to-face with Eza.
“Let him go, Sir,” Eza said sternly. “We screwed up. I’ll be the first to admit it, but hurting Yen won’t change our situation.”
“Give it time,” Yen said breathlessly, his head aching from hitting the wall
. “Halo will find a way out of here. She never let us down before.”
Vance stared at him, tears filling his eyes, as the weight of the loss settled on his shoulders. “She won’t save us this time,” he said quietly. “Captain Young killed her. She died just like we will, because you two opened that disk.”
Yen stared for a moment, then his eyes lowered in shame.
“That doesn’t make sense,” Eza said. “Why would the captain kill Halo?”
“He sold all of us out to the Terrans. Whatever was on that disk, we weren’t meant to see it. Because we did, the captain considers all of us expendable.”
His words hung heavy in the air between them.
“I think it’s time you told me what’s on that disk.” A threat lay under his words.
“Later, Sir,” Eza said.
When Vance glared at him, Eza continued, “If you want to kill us for what we did, I’ll understand. It’s our fault we’re in this mess, and you’d be justified to shoot us. The problem is, we’re also two of the only people keeping you alive. Be angry with us all you want, but save it until after we barricade the rest of the building and find a way off this planet.”
Hatred slowly faded from Vance’s eyes. His anger spent, he released Yen and regained his military composure. “Decker, I need you and your men to spread out and search this building. There should be connectors to the outlying buildings in the compound. Make sure all those doors are sealed in case one is breached. Check every possible window to ensure the metal plating is still firmly in place. I don’t know about any of you, but I’m tired of being hunted like prey. If we’re going to make a stand here, let’s do it on our own terms.”
“Yes, Sir.” Decker gave orders to the handful of survivors. Infantry soldiers, split into two-man teams, began searching the building.
As Eza walked by, Vance placed a warning hand on his chest. “This is far from done, Eza. When we get out of here, I have every intention of taking up that offer to shoot you.”
Burden of Sisyphus Page 16
