Burden of Sisyphus (29 page)

           
“Real life isn’t a storybook, Michael.
 
I did it for money.
 
The Terrans wanted an operational warship and a halo system to analyze.
 
Even with her dead, the system’s in place, ready for reverse engineering.”

           
“Don’t you dare talk about Aleiz like she was a cog in a machine.”

           
The captain continued as if he hadn’t heard.
 
“Did you know the Empire has a massive budget set aside just for bribing Alliance personnel?
 
They have more money than they know what to do with, and they’re paying me enough to buy a small moon on which I can retire.
 
You don’t realize how rich this will make me.”

           
“For money?”
 
Vance’s face flushed with rage.
 
“You killed my men, Aleiz, and all these soldiers just for money?
 
You pathetic son of a bitch!”

           
“Watch that temper, Michael,” he replied coldly.
 
“I killed only those who wouldn’t see the common sense I offered.
 
The rest of the ship supports me.
 
They’ve all been offered very comprehensive financial payoffs for their support.

           
“Everyone has a price, but it’s more than just the money.
 
You and I both know neither the Alliance nor the Empire have been following the Taisa Accord.
 
As of right now, the Terran Fleet has slipped ships past the demilitarized zone and has begun an invasion of Alliance-occupied space.
 
The war’s coming, and I’m here to tell you the Terrans will win.
 
Sure, they offered me money, but they also offered me a chance to be welcomed back into the Empire’s fold, regardless of my Pilgrim background.
 
Had you not been so damned stubborn, you might’ve had the same offer.”

           
“Unlike you,” he roared, “I’d never sell my own people for money!”

           
“News flash, Michael.
 
The Terrans
are
your people.
 
Just because your grandparents made piss-poor decisions about which side they wanted to fight on doesn’t mean you’re that far removed from the Empire.
 
You’re still a Terran.”

           
Vance seethed.
 
His depression and horror at the blood on his hands was replaced by a deep-seated yearning for vengeance.
 
“Believe me when I say I’ll personally see you dead before this is over.”

           
“Let’s be realistic.
 
You’ll never get off that planet.
 
Since you’re going to be this way and insist on making threats, there’s nothing more to say to each other.
 
Good-bye, Michael.”

           
The radio went dead, and Vance howled in frustration.
 
Yen and Eza looked at him from across the small gap.
 
He shot both of them a look of pure malevolence.
 
Rage showed in his bloodshot eyes.

           
“You two have a lot of explaining to do.
 
First, we have to find a way off this rock.”
 
Slumping back down behind the rubble, he muttered, “I’ll find a way off here, so I can send that son of a bitch straight to hell.”

           
Vance’s salvation came seconds later, as a turret gun exploded and lit the night sky with a shower of sparks.
 
Sitting atop a four-story building fifteen blocks away, Ainj aimed at the second turret gun and fired.

           
The high-velocity sniper rounds tore through the metal casing, igniting the ammunition within.
 
The second gun exploded, opening a path through which the survivors could enter the outpost.

           
“Move,” Ainj whispered, wishing he still had his headset.

           
When the Seque barged onto the roof of the skyscraper and pounced on Reese, Ainj was startled and took to the air in a hurry to avoid the charging beast, but he left behind most of his ammunition and headset.
 
Unable to communicate with the soldiers near the outpost, he had to hope they saw his actions clearly and moved inside fast.

           
The sound of the sniper rifle firing undoubtedly gave away his position.
 
Still, he stayed, trying to buy Vance and his team more time.
 
The rest of the guns around the building would never allow Ainj to get close by flying, and he couldn’t risk being on the ground.
 
He still held the advantage, since the Seques couldn’t follow him in the air.
 
By firing and moving, he had a chance to elude the predatory monsters.

           
Through his scope, he watched Vance and the rest of the survivors break for the outpost door.
 
Noticing the guns were destroyed, the Seques hurried to follow.

           
Ainj took aim and squeezed the trigger.
 
As the first Seque leaped over the crumbling outer wall, its head exploded in a mist of green blood and gray brain matter.
 
Ainj, feeling the rifle’s recoil, readjusted for his second shot.
 
That one slammed into a Seque’s back, sending it tumbling end-over-end before lying unmoving on the ground.
 
He fired a third time, tearing off the leg of another beast, as it ran toward the soldiers.

           
The roof shook, as a Seque climbed the rear of the building and launched itself over the lip.
 
It howled angrily at the Avalon before digging its claws into the stone floor and charging.

           
Ainj climbed to his feet and hoisted his rifle, tucking the stock under his arm.
 
Leaping into the air over the main street, he opened his wings, caught an updraft, and glided into the chasm.
 
He spun in midair, letting his wings carry him, as he twisted to face the roof he just left.
 
The Seque charged, preparing to launch itself across the gap at him.

           
Bringing up his rifle, he fired several times.
 
Flames leaped from the large-bore barrel, as the sniper rounds slammed into the running Seque.
 
Gaping holes appeared in its abdomen, chest, and arms, as round after round shredded thick muscles and mangled internal organs.

           
The Seque staggered, as Ainj fired again, catching its neck and nearly ripping its head from its shoulders.
 
The Seque collapsed onto the roof, tearing a rut in the stone as it slid.

           
Ainj smiled sadistically, glad to see another one of the beasts die.
 
Still gliding backward, he never saw another Seque perched on the roof he approached.
 
Tucking its muscular legs underneath it, the Seque leaped and collided with Ainj above the street.
 
It wrapped powerful arms around his body and latched its long claws into his chest and stomach.

           
Ainj screamed in pain, as the Seque sank its teeth into his shoulder.
 
Its massive bulk twisted, snapping his thin, hollow-boned wing.

           
The pair plummeted forty feet to the street, hitting the ground with a horrific crash.
 
The Seque’s heavy mass made them spin until it struck the ground first.
 
Its body cushioned Ainj’s fall and broke its fangs free of his body, but blood poured from numerous wounds on his shoulder, back, chest, and stomach.

           
Ainj coughed weakly, as specks of blood flew from his lips.
 
His frail bones snapped on impact, leaving him unable to move.
 
Around him, low growls emerged from the darkness, quickly followed by a sea of glowing, red eyes.
 
The Seques stalked toward their downed prey.

           
Ainj closed his eyes, not wanting to see the razor-sharp teeth and claws that came to feed upon him.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

           
Keryn sat outside the dean’s office, feeling like a child waiting to be scolded by her disapproving parents.
 
From within, she heard muffled yells coming from Magistrate Victoria and the dean, as they discussed her situation.
 
Her stomach fluttered from nervousness and dread, as she waited for the inevitable order to report within.

           
Keryn looked for a clock on the walls, anything to tell her how much time passed.
 
Sitting in the chair, she felt it was already hours.
 
The walls, however, were barren save for small placards indicating the Academy’s many accomplishments.

           
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.