Burden of Sisyphus bod-1

by Jon Messenger

  Exuberance filled the outpost, as the survivors scrambled to pull together basic necessities, checking their remaining ammunition and grabbing small amounts of food before hurrying to the side door.

  A pair of soldiers beat Vance to the door and fired up a blowtorch. Blue flame leaped from the end of the torch, cutting into the recently sealed door. Metal dripped to the floor like wax, and sparks fell on the workingmen in sheets. They continued working, cutting through the multiple fused spots around the doorframe, while the others watched impatiently.

  Eza stood near a window, staring across the darkening landscape. Vance joined him at a break in the window’s protective covering to admire the setting sun.

  “I hope this is the last sunset we see on this planet,” Vance said softly, watching fading light glisten off windowpanes on the skyscrapers.

  “We’re losing light too fast.” Eza was worried. “We were attacked at night the last time. There’s no reason they won’t hit us again once it’s dark enough.”

  The smile faded from Vance’s lips. “How dark is dark enough?”

  “I don’t know, but I don’t like cutting it close when my life is on the line.”

  Decker and Yen walked up behind the pair. Decker cleared his throat politely to get their attention.

  “The consoles are destroyed,” Decker said. “I don’t know if Seques can read computer files, but they won’t have the option.”

  “Good,” Vance said. “They’ve finished cutting through the door. I wish there was easy access from the front door, since we left that one unblocked. Once we get through, I’ll need all of your support.”

  Eza pulled his ax free and tested its weight. After being cooped up for so long, he yearned for activity. “Just let us know what you need us to do.”

  “Decker and Yen,” Vance said, pointing at them. “You know where the building is. I want you two in the lead. Head straight for the warehouse and don’t deviate.”

  “Roger, Sir.”

  The glow from the red light mixed with the flashes of sparks, revealing stern looks of dedication on their faces.

  “Eza, you and I will take the rear to keep everyone moving.”

  “And…?”

  “And be ready in case we encounter trouble. I’m one of our best shots, and you were always our best fighter. I’m counting on you.”

  “I won’t let you down.” Eza extended his hand.

  Vance shook it firmly. Before he could release it, Yen laid his hand on theirs, followed by Decker. The four looked at each other, nodding solemnly.

  “Good luck, Gentlemen,” Vance said.

  The door behind them fell open with a crash. Smoke rose from the edges where the torch cut through.

  “Let’s move,” Vance said.

  The half-dozen soldiers ran through the doorway ahead of Yen, Decker, Vance, and Eza, their weapons aimed at the darkening grassy field beyond. No concrete had been poured for walkways through that area, leaving the grass unscathed save for where the Seques trampled a muddy ring around the building the previous night. Weak light glowed warmly over the field, illuminating a distant row of warehouses. Their nondescript exteriors betrayed nothing of the blessed ship stored within one of them.

  Yen and Decker moved to the front of the group, as the infantry soldiers created a protective perimeter. Straining to see in the failing daylight, Yen counted three buildings over from the left and marked their destination before setting off across the field. They slogged hurriedly through tacky mud that pulled at their boots. Lifting their legs high to break free of the glutinous brown mud, they finally reached virgin grass and picked up their pace, almost running, as they headed across the flat ground toward the warehouses.

  Vance glanced nervously over his shoulder, taking in the ghostly, quiet city and the three-quarter sun, as it set over the horizon. Its bottom edge disappeared, stealing a sliver of sunlight and dropping the temperature. Vance shivered, not entirely from the cold, as the sun’s rapid descent continued.

  Yen led the group around minor obstacles like jutting rocks and unseen holes, choosing to remain on clear, even ground. The soldiers, laboring and tired but pushing forward, smiled, as the warehouses neared.

  As they dodged a second outcropping of rock, the ground beside them exploded upward.

  A flimsy tarp, draped with dirt and sod to make it invisible, was thrown skyward, revealing the sloping mouth of a tunnel. A massive Seque hand emerged, closing around the leg of a nearby soldier and jerking him from his feet. He fired wildly, most of the rounds going upward, as his hip gave way with a sickening pop.

  When the Seque pulled him toward the hole, the soldier rolled onto his stomach and clawed at the ground while screaming for help. The survivors fired repeatedly at the Seque but couldn’t stop it. With a final scream, the soldier disappeared into the dark hole, and his screams faded into silence.

  As the group tried to recover from its shock and continue toward the warehouse, a second Seque leaped from a pit on the opposite side. Its massive weight crashed heavily against an unsuspecting soldier, dragging him down, as it raked him alternately with jagged claws and hungry fangs. He screamed and squirmed under its bulk, red blood spraying the air.

  Vance fired twice, catching the Seque in the throat both times. It lurched, stepping free of the soldier and staggering before collapsing to the ground. Unfortunately, it was too late for the soldier. The Uligart was eviscerated, spreading blood and organs across the ground.

  The ground rumbled, and more false patches of grass shifted. Vance looked at the stunned group and shouted, “Run! Don’t stop, just run!”

  They sprinted away from the ambush, as a group of Seque emerged from hidden passages under the field. Their bulky frames picked up speed, as they ran after the men who were closing quickly on the warehouses. Gunfire filled the night air, as Seques howled in rage and pain, some collapsing to the ground. As one fell, another emerged from a nearby put to pull its body away while more beasts joined the chase.

  A shadow passed over Vance. He dropped to one knee and saw the Seque pass over his head. Missing its target, it shifted in midair and fell atop a soldier running ahead of Vance and Eza. Before Vance could raise his rifle, a whirl of steel fell on the Seque. Emerald blood spewed from its body, as Eza’s ax tore through its flesh and struck joints and other exposed areas. Soon the Seque collapsed to the ground. Drenched in viridian gore, Eza pulled Vance to his feet and continued running toward the ship.

  Having stopped for a moment, they fell farther behind Yen, Decker, and the three remaining soldiers. In the deepening night, more red eyes emerged alongside the path. Behind them, they heard the squishing sound of heavy footsteps.

  Vance’s breath burned in his throat. The Seques closed the distance quickly, running awkwardly on short back legs and swinging their bodies forward with each gait using their elongated arms. Though their legs pumped rapidly, the Alliance men didn’t have a chance of outrunning the monsters.

  “We’ll never make the warehouses in time,” Vance said, praying to the gods that at least Yen and his group would escape. “They’re too fast.”

  “Keep running.” Eza’s face strained from exertion.

  “We won’t get out of here alive.” The realization hung heavily on him, as he felt like luck running out.

  “No. You’re making it out of here.” Eza slid to a halt and spun toward the advancing Seques.

  “What are you doing?” Vance looked back when he realized the Wyndgaart wasn’t following.

  “Making sure you get out of here alive!” he shouted, not looking back. “Either you stand beside me and die here, or you keep running and stop Captain Young. I’d rather you lived long enough to kill the traitorous son of a bitch, so go!”

  Vance started to turn, intending to run back to Eza’s side and pull him to the warehouse if he resisted. Sensing Vance’s hesitation, Eza ran at an approaching Seque and slid under its long claws, slamming his ax into its groin and dropping it to the ground. Steel flas
hed dizzingly back and forth, as he let the Voice saturate his body. Moving like a serpent, he struck the advancing Seque repeatedly, and they stopped chasing the others to deal with the new threat.

  Claws bit at his flesh, as more of the creatures surrounded him. He struck alternately with ax and pistol, severing the fingers of any Seque that reached out aggressively or placing well-aimed bullets in exposed knees, groins, or faces. He staggered as he leaped aside from a diving Seque, but its sharp teeth slashed his leg. The tips of a clawed hand caught his chest. He moved backward quickly, but it wasn’t far enough. Bleeding and in pain, he fought on.

  Stepping backward slowly, Vance stared in disbelief at the sacrifice made on his behalf. Blood seeped from multiple wounds on Eza’s body, but he fought like a man possessed, cutting down more and more of the beasts and halting their advance on his leader.

  Knowing he couldn’t let his friend die in vain, Vance turned and sprinted toward the warehouse. He didn’t look back, because he didn’t want to see Eza die at the hands of the monsters.

  Yen and Decker led their group toward the warehouse. Only one soldier followed. Two others were caught by pursuing Seques and dragged down. The warehouse loomed, its lettering and numbers emerging from the gloom of the dim night. The personnel door was set to one side of the massive bay doors, and Yen angled his run toward it.

  As he neared the building, a large shape broke from the shadows between two warehouses. Slathering jowls emerged from the darkness, as a Seque charged them. Nearly fifteen feet tall, it bore down on trio, as they slid to a halt on the wet ground.

  The air around Yen shimmered in the weak light. Splaying his fingers before him, he clamped down on the Seque’s nervous system, as he did to the Terran soldier before. It stopped, a look of confusion replacing the rage it felt a moment before. Tilting its head to one side, it snarled and planted one foot in the soft soil, taking an angry step forward, though its momentum was slowed by Yen’s resistance.

  His eyes narrowed to slits, and the aura of shimmering air around him expanded, whipping his hair wildly in an unseen breeze. The Seque slid backward, losing traction even though it dug its clawed feet deeper into the ground. With a howl, it pushed forward again, fighting Yen’s control.

  Blood seeped from Yen’s nose and ran down over his lip to drip from his chin. “I can’t hold it!” he said in a weak, strained voice.

  Decker’s first shot caught the Seque’s knee. It staggered from Yen’s psychic energy and the shattered kneecap. Before it could fall, Decker fired two more rounds into the huge beast’s left temple.

  The Seque was driven backward by Yen’s force. Its eyes rolled back into their sockets, and it pitched over backward, collapsing to the grass.

  Yen’s knees buckled, as the energy around him abated. Decker quickly helped him to his feet and pulled him inside the open door of the warehouse. Letting the surviving infantryman take Yen, Decker turned and saw Vance dive through the open door.

  “Close it!” Vance shouted, landing on his back with his weapon trained on the doorway, where dozens of Seques rushed toward them.

  Decker slammed the door and threw the locking bar moments before angry Seques barreled against the building. Using the wall for support, Vance climbed to his feet and examined the four survivors. Yen wobbled on his feet, leaning heavily against the soldier.

  “Is he all right?” Vance asked.

  “I hope so,” Decker said. “He strained himself pretty bad stopping that Seque.” He looked around in surprise. “Where’s Eza?”

  Vance slowly shook his head, feeling a knot build in his throat, as tears slid from his eyes. Eza sacrificed himself so Vance could have his revenge against Captain Young. He wouldn’t let such a sacrifice be in vain.

  Turning away from the others, he surveyed the busy warehouse. Piles of boxes filled the near half of the room, but a ship dominated the rear half. Its glossy silver exterior glowed in the darkness.

  Leading the way, he pushed past the cluttered collection of supplies until he reached the rear hatch of the Cair Ilmun. When he entered his ID code, the door opened with a hiss, and the interior lights came on, flooding the area around the ship in a halo of illumination. Though they still heard the banging of Seque outside the building, the four survivors boarded the ship reverently.

  Yen pushed past the soldier and walked toward the cockpit. Rubbing his temples as if suffering from a severe headache, he went past Vance and Decker to the front of the ship. He stumbled, nearly falling into a bench that lined the crew compartment.

  “Are you healthy enough to fly this?” Vance asked wearily.

  Since Yen was the only qualified pilot left alive, they had few options. “If it means getting off this planet, I’ll be fine. You might want to strap yourselves in.”

  They sat down and strapped in, their hearts racing, as the engines roared during Yen’s preflight checks. Above them, they heard the rumble of automated machinery opening the ceiling to allow them to depart from the warehouse.

  As the Cair Ilmun lifted off, Vance closed his eyes and let a tear stream down his face for all those who died. Of the 127 soldiers who deployed to Purseus II, only four were onboard the ship as it broke atmosphere, leaving hundreds of howling Seque behind.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Keryn kicked off from the ground and rose into the air above Lake Arcendor. Around her, nearly two hundred cadets filled the sky and began separating, finding their distinct starting areas before the day’s aerial joust. Through the bustle and jockeying for key starting positions, Keryn found an open spot near the lake’s northern rim, giving her a clear view of her opponents and leaving no space behind her for a surprise attack. Unlike the previous day, she hovered midway up the field, allowing her fellow cadets to position themselves above and below her.

  The sun cast a warm glow that morning, and she reveled in it on her skin. The day seemed brighter somehow, and her eyes keener, as she began selecting targets throughout the field of cadets. Though her sleep was interrupted by strange dreams, her mind and body were sharp and prepared. The multitude of the problems the previous night-the fight in the bar and reprimand from the dean-seemed a lifetime ago, as if they happened to someone else. Keryn was refreshed and ready for the day’s competition.

  Hanging in the air, she felt a marked lack of nervousness that personified her last attempt at the joust. Keryn was calm, resolved in the fact that events would conclude significantly better than the previous day. Finishing in the bottom third had been an embarrassment, but she was confident of her ability to change that.

  Keryn ran the dean’s words repeatedly through her mind. Remember your friends. Staring across the battlefield, she realized how powerful those words were. The mass of cadets hovered at their start positions, each one eager for quick kills and a victory in the joust. All 200 were filled with fear or bloodlust. In a way, it was sad to see so many peers without anyone she could trust not to stab her in the back, but she hoped that wasn’t entirely true.

  There was one person in the Academy who would support her bizarre plan, if Keryn could reach her in time. From the moment she lifted off, she watched Iana’s path. Her roommate flew above her and toward the western side of the field, leaving several cadets between them. Those unfortunates would be the first to fall to Keryn’s assault, a necessary evil until she reached her friend.

  Once she did, the true test of friendship would begin. Could she convince Iana not to shoot long enough to explain? She hoped so. Otherwise, one of them would be eliminated far too early in the competition.

  The dean told you something else, the Voice offered. He told you to find your strengths.

  “I know my strengths,” she said dismissively.

  Do you? Tell me how many weapons you carry right now.

  Keryn frowned, not knowing what it meant. Still, she answered the question, if not in an abrasive manner. “You know damn well I’m carrying my knife and pistol.”

  You’re forgetting one. You’ve trained as a wa
rrior all your life, practicing multiple styles of hand-to-hand combat. You don’t consider your body to be a weapon?

  Stifling a sharp retort, she quickly closed her mouth. Though she wanted to argue, she wondered if the Voice was right. “I can’t use strikes in the aerial joust, can I?”

  If memory serves me right, and it always does, they never said you couldn’t.

  Her smile darkened. The Voice was right. She assumed the restriction on strikes and kicks was an unspoken understanding, but there weren’t any explicit instructions against it. If the Voice was right, Keryn just added a deadly new tool to her arsenal. Feeling significantly more confident in her chances, she suddenly knew she’d succeed as long as she kept her wits and wasn’t eliminated before she could put her plan into motion.

  From the corner of her eye, she noticed the cadet sidling along the north boundary, edging closer to her. The way he moved and eyed her meant he was looking for a quick ambush. Already, the first threat to her success presented itself. If he managed a lucky shot, she’d be eliminated immediately at the start of the joust, and all her planning would be for naught.

  She couldn’t let it happen. Smiling to herself, Keryn drew her pistol and shifted position, splitting her attention between the cadet and her target in the distance.

  As the horn sounded to initiate combat, Keryn launched from her position, barely avoiding a laser blast from the cadet on her right. Rolling in the air, she returned fire and struck the male Lithid’s chest. He dropped to the gossamer net, the first student eliminated in the joust that day.

  Evading her first adversary, Keryn knew it was time to set her plan into action. Above her in the distance was her target. Between them, cadets flew around each other like angry hornets swarming near a nest. Punctuated by laser fire and slashed with wavering energy knives, only the occasional falling student broke the illusion of an insect swarm.