Free Burden of Sisyphus by Jon Messenger Page A

aren’t coming with us,” Nova said, slipping free of Ainj’s arm, “at least try your best to enjoy yourself.”
                “Don’t worry about that,” Vance replied, as Ainj caught Nova’s hand, pulling her toward the transport.
                “Say hello to Halo for us!” she yelled, as she was dragged away.
                Vance waved, as the ship’s door sealed.   Warning lights spun above all the doorways, telling him it was time to clear the hangar.   As he left the vaulted bay, the doors slid shut behind him, so decompression of the chamber could begin.   Vance didn’t wait for confirmation his team was away before he walked toward the depths of the ship.
                With the Goliath in the process of establishing a steady orbit around Fatutu IV, Vance knew Halo would be busy with a multitude of minute adjustments in speed and altitude.   Instead of bothering her, he paced the length of the long, cylindrical warship.
                Taking the captain’s advice, he wandered to the front most observation deck.   To the captain’s credit, the view was spectacular.   The deep purple of indigenous plant life mixed beautifully into the soft pinks and reds of the lapping oceans.   Even the polar icecaps had a faint pastel hue, absorbing color from the water and the soft ultraviolet light filtering through the atmosphere.
                Ever the soldier, his eyes quickly moved to a closer view— Goliath.   Missile ports and rail-gun launch tubes jutted from the long, glossy black hull.   The Goliath, converted from a regular cruiser to a warship when the Alliance reallocated the ship for use by covert operations, contained a myriad of weaponry far superior to any other ship in the Fleet.  
                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