Burden of Sisyphus (15 page)

           
In the cold alloy of a spaceship, however, she couldn't see her opponent’s face.
 
She could only see the darting ship and its bristling arsenal.
 
Could the ship’s movements reveal insight into the pilot’s weaknesses?
 
If not, what chance did she have to overcome the damning firepower of those she would face not only in the Academy but some day in a real confrontation with the Terran Fleet?

           
“I want the class to split in two,” Victoria ordered from the front of the room.
 
“Half of you move to my right, half to my left.”

           
To Keryn’s relief, she saw Iana move to her side, while Sasha and her cronies went to the other.

           
“For the next few hours, I’ll place all of you in direct conflict with your classmates.
 
Each of you will have a uniquely colored pyramid representing your ship.
 
The defensive values of all your ships will be the same, as well as maneuverability and weapon systems.
 
The only thing that sets you apart from your peers is your imagination and what you learned from this class.
 
Take a second to study your ship schematics and select a color.
 
We begin shortly.”

           
Each of the displays before Keryn’s group had the same sphere.
 
As students chose their colors—Keryn settling on a vibrant red that matched her tattoos—she took a second to read the cadets’ expressions.
 
Some showed faint traces of fear, revealing concern over their inadequacies.
 
For others, confidence and bravado were proudly displayed, though Keryn wondered how much of that was for show and how much was genuine ability.

           
Frowning, she noticed that Zalide, Sasha’s Uligart boyfriend, was among the members of her group.
 
Somehow, she couldn’t help wondering if he was sent by the Avalon to judge the abilities of the cadets on her side of the room to get an edge on them.
 
She couldn’t escape the feeling, though, that his bravado was warranted.
 

           
Keryn exchanged worried glances with Iana shortly before Victoria broke the silence.

           
“Begin!”

           
The pyramids being held in suspended animation began moving under the control of the dozen cadets in her group.
 
Ships dodged and wove through one another’s fields of fire, seeking vulnerable targets.
 
Keryn tilted hers into a spiral, barely avoiding a barrage of missile fire from a passing ship.
 
She returned fire weakly on a distant target, which maneuvered easily out of range and avoided her rockets.

           
Spotting a deep-blue pyramid drifting slowly through the sphere, she sensed easy prey and moved closer to attack.
 
Flashing across the broad sphere, she quickly closed the distance on what she assumed was a damaged opponent.

           
To her surprise, the ship banked quickly at the last second, looping behind her to open fire.
 
The hull integrity of her ship dropped rapidly on her display, as machine gun fire tore through her flimsy ship.
 
Shortly thereafter, her bright-red pyramid exploded in a shower of sparks.
 
Keryn was dead, the first one of her group to be eliminated.

           
She cursed herself, as she leaned back in her seat, biting back tears of frustration.
 
Wallowing in self-pity, she barely noticed the figure standing behind her.
 
Turning in her chair, she saw the instructor’s black uniform.

           
“Never, ever, underestimate an opponent,” Victoria whispered, while the other students continued their competition.
 
“Underestimating anyone will lead to your death.”

           
“How am I supposed to know which one’s the easy prey?” Keryn asked hoarsely.
 
“I attacked the one that seemed like the easiest kill, and it backfired on me.”

           
“First of all, treat every opponent as if they’re still alive and fighting strongly, so you can’t be surprised by their withheld firepower.”
 
She leaned forward and hissed the next words into Keryn’s ear.
 
“Second, I’m not training a coward who attacks only the weak and lame.
 
I want pilots with the fortitude to fight straight for the strongest enemy on the battlefield.
 
Always remember that.”

           
Keryn’s face flushed with surprise and shame, as Victoria stood and walked away.
 
Looking back at the sphere, Keryn saw only three pyramids still remained, the dark blue among them.
 
Scanning her group, only a Lithid, an unfamiliar Avalon, and Sasha’s boyfriend remained.

           
Within minutes, the dark-blue pyramid performed amazing acrobatics and destroyed the other two opponents.
 
As quickly as it began, Zalide and his dark-blue pyramid were declared the victors.
 
Sasha’s boyfriend set her up to take a fall from the beginning.
 
Keryn was ready for a second chance.

           
Victoria ran them through the exercise six more times before giving them a break for dinner.
 
Over the next six battles, Keryn wound up in last place two more times.
 
Her best finish was sixth of the twelve students.
 
Zalide finished first every time.

           
By the time the group broke for dinner, Keryn was emotionally exhausted and ready for a meal and bed.
 
Victoria gave them little hope of rest.

           
“Eat well and relax,” Victoria said.
 
“Talk among yourselves to figure out where you went wrong during the competitions.
 
Learn from your mistakes.
 
I offer you that advice, because your night is far from over.
 
Once you finish eating, I expect you back in your seats, ready to continue.
 
The next part of your training will test your abilities in the air and find out how much you learned during classroom instruction.”

           
Keryn, crestfallen, knew the major concepts of three-dimensional combat still eluded her.

           
“When you return, we’ll put you in the cockpit and see how well you do behind the controls of a simulation.”

CHAPTER TEN

           
Tucking her arms under her head, Keryn stared up at the plain white ceiling above her bunk.
 
Though her muscles still ached from physical training, her brain felt like a ball of lead.
 
All day, her class learned tactics, applied them to mock battles within the spheres, and ended the day in a virtual cockpit.
 
Pitting new cadets against computer-simulated targets enabled Keryn to experience the nuances of controlling a fighter during combat simulations, trying to grow accustomed to three-dimensional battles in space.
 
She failed miserably.

           
The cockpit felt constricting throughout the exercise.
 
Her throat tightened, as silvery digital threads created the full cockpit from the blank computer program.
 
As the metallic alloy closed around her like a coffin, she felt her heart race from claustrophobia.
 
Growing up on the Wyndgaart home world, with its wide-open spaces and freedom, the simulation made her incredibly uneasy.

           
Throughout the simulated battle, she never shook the feeling of confinement and captivity.
 
Her piloting skills suffered, resulting in her ship’s being destroyed all five times she ran the program.
 
She’d been so confident at the start of the day.
 
As the sun set, and she unwound in the room she shared with Iana, Keryn felt defeated.
 
Doubt crept into her mind.
 
For the first time since arriving, she wondered if she was cut out to be a pilot.

           
I could help,
the Voice whispered in her mind.
 
I’m capable of more than just making you a warrior.
 
Let me help.

           
Keryn rolled on her side to face the bare wall.
 
“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any.”

           
Spare me,
the Voice said harshly.
 
Do you honestly believe I like seeing you like this?

           
Keryn wiped away tears that threatened to spill down her face.
 
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she told the empty room, “especially not with you.”

           
Someday, you’ll realize that I’m very much a part of you.
 
You can’t turn me off like throwing a switch.
 
The embarrassment you feel right now—believe me, I know you’re swimming in a pool of self-pity—is something I feel, too.

           
“Like you actually care.”

           
I do, Keryn.
 
I have only one purpose, and that’s to turn you into the greatest possible warrior.
 
Right now, we’re both failures, and it’s mainly because you’re so adamant about fighting me.
 
I could offer assistance and make you great.
 
Instead, you wallow near the bottom of your class, because you can’t grasp the nuances of space combat.
 
Let me help you!

           
“No,” she growled.
 
“I got here without you.
 
I’ll graduate without you, too.”

           
Fat chance.
 
Not the way you’re going.

           
A knock at the door interrupted her before she could offer a harsh retort.
 
Keryn rolled over, rubbing away as much of the puffiness around her eyes as she could.

           
“Come in,” she called hoarsely, her voice thick with emotion.

           
The door opened, and Iana stuck her head in to scan the room.
 
Seeing no one but Keryn, she opened the door the rest of the way and walked in, looking perplexed.

           
“Why’d you knock?” Keryn asked.

           
“I thought you might’ve brought someone home with you.
 
I heard you talking when I came to the door.
 
I would’ve felt terrible if I barged in while you were with someone.”

           
Keryn couldn’t suppress a laugh.
 
Mourning her own failures, spending time with a man, especially a fellow cadet, was the furthest thing from her mind.
 
Seeing Iana’s hurt expression, she quickly regained her composure.

           
“Believe me, Iana.
 
I was definitely not with anyone.”

           
“Then maybe you should be.
 
You’ve been cooped up in the room crying into your pillow since class ended.
 
You need to get up and out.
 
Let’s get a drink at the Academy’s bar.
 
A change of scenery will do you good.”

           
Keryn shook her head.
 
“Maybe some other time.
 
Right now, I’d rather sit in the dark.”

           
“Come on.
 
You need to get over today.
 
It was one day.
 
You’ll get better.”

           
“And if I don’t?”
 
She voiced the question that plagued her ever since class ended in disaster.