Burden of Sisyphus (Brink of Distinction book #1)



  By: Jon Messenger

  Crimson Tree Publishing

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogues are products of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Burden of Sisyphus

  Copyright © 2012 by: Jon Messenger

  Edited by: Cynthia Shepp

  Cover Design by: Marya Heiman

  Typography by: Courtney Nuckels

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address:

  Crimson Tree Publishing

  PO Box 561326

  The Colony, TX 75056

  www.CrimsonTreePublishing.com

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Gallery

 

  Private Hicks’ heart pounded like a hammer as he glanced around the corner of the crumbled concrete wall. Seeing nothing across the open field of powdered red clay, the first bit of relief he had felt in the past twenty minutes began flooding through his system. Allowing himself a moment to unwind taut muscles, Hicks ejected the magazine from his rifle and counted his ammunition. Realizing there were only ten bullets left, he cringed. It wasn’t enough to stop any of the enemies pursuing him. Taking another glance around the broken wall and seeing nothing behind him, he quickly surveyed the rest of the area.

  All around stood the bombed out remains of a once prosperous town, reduced to the destroyed one-story remnants of their foundations. Flowing like water between the broken walls was the red, clay-like sand that covered the planet’s surface.

  He squinted against the bright suns shining down on the dry, desolate planet. He scanned his surroundings until he saw the rising plateau. Buried in its midst was the shimmering silhouette of a tower—the tip of a communications array that marked the Terran outpost. It stood enclosed within a crevice that cut into the side of the plateau, with a defensive wall between the Terran building and the rest of the harsh planet. All that remained between him and the wall was a maze of ruined structures and a hill he must cross, yet dreaded reaching.

  Around him sand shifted constantly, covering even the deep tracks he left as he ran for cover. The planet was nothing like the Terran home world of Earth. Meager scrub grasses grew twisted and sickly, leaving little to hinder the gusty wind. Wiping sweat from his eyes, he thought again how he didn’t want to die on such a miserable planet.

  Doing the calculations in his mind he chose one of the closer structures, judging the time and distance it would take to reach its walls. Not wanting to stay exposed for too long, he chose the closest wall.

  He pulled his rifle tight to his shoulder and took a deep breath to calm his nerves. Exhaling slowly with leg muscles coiled, he sprinted forward. Counting seconds in his head he covered the last few meters in a dash before dropping to his knees and sliding behind the wall, a cloud of acrid red dust rising in his wake.

  Breathing heavily again, he strained to hear a cry of alarm or indication that he’d been spotted. Hearing none he picked his way through the buildings, always staying low to avoid detection. Red sand pulled at his feet, threatening to drag him down if he stayed in one place too long. His legs already ached from running across the shifting ground but he drove forward until he finally reached the last foundation. Before him loomed the hillside. Just beyond was the freedom he feared he’d never see.

  He rubbed his burning calves, helping his body break down the lactic acid cramping his muscles. Stealing one last backward glance he broke from cover and charged up the red hill. Sand gave way underfoot, shifting with his body weight. For every two steps forward he slid one step back.

  Struggling, he clawed at the loose ground with his hands, pulling himself closer to the top, while behind him an avalanche of sand poured down the hill. Finally, panting wildly, he reached the top and dropped to his stomach, sliding down the short backside.

  His body screamed in protest as he tried to stand. His muscles ached and his lungs burned in the planet’s thin, dust-filled air. Under his dark armor sweat soaked through his uniform. Raising his head, he saw the looming plateau. Nuzzled within the wedge of the plateau’s façade there was the Terran’s dark, stone, defensive wall. Relief flooded through him. Being able to see the bristling antiaircraft weapon platforms mounted atop the wall meant his destination was finally within reach.

  Scrambling to his feet, despite resistant muscles, he ran the rest of the way to the wall. He didn’t dare hope to make it that far without being spotted by his enemies but the reprieve gave him time to close the final twenty meters to the outpost. Legs cramping, he limped the rest of the way to the wall. Ignoring the large, arched vehicle entrance, whose heavy doors led straight to the courtyard between the wall and the building set into the plateau, he staggered to the reinforced personnel entrance to one side. Shuffling past a set of thick windows he watched Terran soldiers within the wall move toward the door.

  Sliding in the red sand he stopped in front of the door and pounded it with his open hand. “Open the door!” he yelled, his voice raspy and dry.

  When nothing happened he banged again, glancing over his shoulder in fear and frustration.

  “Open the damn door!” he screamed, as much as his raw throat allowed, hitting the door repeatedly.

  Finally, hesitantly, it opened.

  A blast of cool air struck him as he was pulled into the comforting darkness. The room was cast in deep shadows and he was momentarily blinded in the dim lighting. He shivered as someone helped him to the far side of the narrow room, the cool air a stark contrast to the scorching heat outside. Sliding down against the wall, he exhaled a loud, raspy breath.

  “Hicks,” the closest soldier said.

  His head swam with exhaustion.

  “What happened out there?”

  He peered through the gloom, barely able to make out the man’s rank and name. “Alliance mercenaries. They hit us while we were on patrol.”

  A third soldier pushed past the others and bent over Hicks, who saw the officer epaulettes on his shoulder. “Where’s the rest of your team, Private?”

  He shook his head. “They’re all dead, Sir.”

  “All of them?” the lieutenant asked in disbelief. “How did one group of Alliance mercenaries take out an entire patrol?”

  A soft sound echoed through the room before Hicks could reply. The thumping reverberated softly as he clambered to his feet. Slowly, the others heard it and the room fell to hushed silence. It was a series of soft thumps as if something struck the compound’s outer wall repeatedly.

  “What the hell is that noise?” Lieutenant Hill asked, looking toward the thick, outer walls.

  The soun
d continued unabated.

  “Sir, I’ve got a visual,” a private said, watching from the window.

  The lieutenant rushed to the window, pulling free the binoculars on his hip. In the distance, a single massive form stood at the crest of the hill. Thick, dark fur covered its body which ended in an elongated snout. Sharp horns jutted from its temples, curving wickedly forward.

  Lowering his binoculars, the lieutenant turned toward the rest of the soldiers. “It looks like the Alliance found our outpost! Let’s move, people!” As he walked back to the middle of the room the soldiers exploded into action.

  “On your feet, soldiers!” Lieutenant Hill yelled over the din of muttered conversation. “Grab some ammo and find a wall to stand behind.” Turning back toward the sturdy window he glared across the red field. “If they want to bring their fight here, they won’t even know what hit them.”

  “How true,” Hicks rasped, as a barbed tail erupted from under the back of his shirt. Lashing out, the tail struck the base of Lieutenant Hill’s neck and erupted from his throat, nearly decapitating the officer.

  Hicks extended his left hand, the fingers elongated into razor-sharp points, which he drove into a nearby soldier’s abdomen. The soldier stared in disbelief, as the skin on Hicks’ face melted like wax, first running down toward his chin before being absorbed into his oily-black skin. The face disappeared, leaving behind a featureless black oval. Slowly, the rest of his skin melted away until all that remained was thick, black hide.

  The creature that impersonated Hicks swished its spiked tail back and forth and turned toward the three remaining soldiers in the room. Eyes wide with fright, one swung his rifle toward the creature and squeezed the trigger.

  The window exploded inward as the first round tore through the thick glass and struck the soldier’s temple. His scalp peeled away on the far side of his head as the high-velocity round passed through and struck the far wall, spraying the back of the room with blood.

  A second report shook the room as another round struck the soldier closest to the window in the chest, lifting him from his feet and tossing his body farther into the narrow room.

  The remaining soldier ran through the back door, deeper into the steel-and-concrete complex.

  The dark creature surveyed the grizzly scene and flicked its tail, splashing more droplets of blood against the wall. A clawed hand reached to its throat and pressed a small button embedded in its neck.

  “Sir, we have a runner,” it said into its throat mike.

  Two miles away three camouflaged figures watched the events unfold through high-powered scopes. A figure fully cloaked in red robes and scarves reached under the scarf around its throat and keyed into his own microphone.

  “Roger that, Ixibas.” The red-robed figure turned toward two prone figures on his right. “Ainj and Yen are tracking his progress now.”

  Ainj pulled a massive sniper rifle tighter against an anemic-looking frame with surprising strength. His pale skin seemed ill-fitted for this world’s harsh desert climate but he pulled his feathered wings over his body to keep the sun away from his sharp eyes. Staring through the scope, he panned right from the window to the communications tower, following the soldier’s movements through the two-foot-thick concrete walls.

  Yen Xiao crouched quietly beside Ainj, his eyes closed and fingers intertwined. His yellow skin glistened with sweat as he concentrated, and the elongated spines running down his back flexed and relaxed with the rhythm of his calming breaths. The air around him shimmered faintly as if heat radiated from him. His features danced as the shimmering increased in pace with his deepening concentration. In a tranquil voice, he called out commands to Ainj.

  “Right twenty meters, up one.” His dark brows furrowed as he focused.

  Ainj followed his direction, tracing a path along the featureless concrete wall.

  “He’s gone up a floor and is heading back. Left five meters, up another three.”

  Ainj angled the tip of the massive sniper rifle left, pausing only briefly as his sights passed over a female creature scaling the side of the building, heading directly toward the antiaircraft weapons lining the roof of the communications center. Bony protrusions along her hands and feet dug into the building’s thick stonework as she climbed higher. A large spear strapped to her back bounced as she moved.

  “Left two more meters,” Yen said, “and you have him.”

  The sniper rifle followed the directions flawlessly. Ainj, focusing on the location, squeezed the trigger.

  The wall near Nova Tirana exploded, showering her with small rocks and a cloud of white dust. She shook her hair free and debris showered twenty feet to the red sand below.

  “The last interior guard is down,” the red-robed man called over the radio. “Nova, you’re up. Watch the timeline.”

  “Roger.” She pulled the bony protrusions around her knuckles free of the wall and began climbing again. As she slammed the white-bone ridges around her hands and feet into the wall, a loud thump echoed as she scrambled for purchase. Sweat rolled around the boney ridges along her cheeks and jawline, which she shook free with a toss of her head.

  Cresting the top of the wall, Nova pulled the long spear off her back as she climbed to her feet. Antiaircraft weapons sat on either side of her, their barrels pointed skyward. A pair of Terran soldiers manned each weapon. At the sight of the female Uligart climbing the lip of the wall, they reached for their weapons.

  Nova spun the spear artfully, slicing off both hands of the closest Terran as he reached for his rifle. Screaming, he stumbled backward. Using his momentum against him, she drove the butt of the spear unto his gut, lifting him off his feet and tossing him off the roof. Completing the spin of her spear, she drove the tip cleanly through the Terran in the gunner’s chair. Gurgling, he fell limply to the rooftop as she turned toward the other antiaircraft platform.

  Turning, she pressed a button on the spear’s haft. The bladed tip snapped free and spun at the end of a chain. She whipped the spear tip toward the first of the guards before he could fire his weapon. The blade punctured his body armor, shattering bone and muscle as it tore through his back. Lifted from his feet by the impact, he crashed into the barrel of the antiaircraft weapon.

  Nova tugged the haft but the chain and blade were lodged too tightly to the Terran’s body. She danced aside as the last soldier fired. Bullets sheared flakes of stone from the rooftop near her right foot.

  Dropping the spear, her hand moved in a blur. She freed her pistol and fired, the round catching the side of the Terran’s neck. He spun, firing a few more shots reflexively before collapsing onto the stone roof. As he gurgled painfully, blood sprayed weakly from his severed artery, slicking the rooftop with gore.

  Reaching to her neck, Nova activated her throat mike. “The rooftop’s clear. We’re ready to proceed with phases three and four.”

  Looking down sympathetically at the frightened Terran, she frowned before raising her pistol and shooting him between the eyes.

  “That’s a good copy, Nova,” the red-robed figure replied. “Tusque and Eza, you’re both a go for your phase. Ainj is airborne. Yen and I will be there shortly.”

  Ainj picked up his sniper rifle and pushed off from the ground. Beating his powerful wings, he gained altitude and flew toward the Terran outpost. As he departed, the red-robed figure and Yen picked up the remaining supplies and ran toward the distant plateau.

  At the top of the hill near the wall, the eight-foot, furry Oterian huffed loudly as he looked over his shoulder. Behind him, a smaller, deeply tanned man stood, absently spinning a curved hand ax through the air. The man’s golden hair was pulled back from his face in a ponytail. On either side of his face, tracing his strong jaw line, red and white tattoos swirled across his skin.

  “Ready?” Tusque rumbled.

  “Always,” Eza Riddell replied, before sprinting beside the Oterian across the red sand toward the towering vehicle entrance doors.

  Tusque, who began ru
nning shortly before Eza, moved like a locomotive. Though he wasn’t nearly as fast as Eza, his powerful strides built up great momentum as he charged the outpost. His breath coming in deep huffs, Tusque lowered his head as he moved toward the metallic alloy door.

  When he crashed into it, it resounded like a thunderclap. The vehicle entrance exploded inward, scattering the Terran guards posted inside.

  As the first Terran regained his footing, a smaller form tumbled through the destroyed archway. Rolling to his feet, Eza slashed to the side with his curved ax. The blade bit deep into the Terran’s hamstrings, severing both muscles as red blood mixed with the colored sand. Before the soldier fell Eza pulled out his pistol and shot the next-closest Terran. The round struck his abdomen, eviscerating him. Clutching intestines that threatened to spill to the ground, he collapsed onto his back.

  Eza swung down his ax, splitting the hamstrung Terran’s skull and spilling chunks of gray matter to the ground.

  Tusque lifted one of the fallen Terrans in his massive hands, tossing him into a wall. His body crumpled upon impact and flopping involuntarily as he fell, he collapsed to the ground. The fourth soldier climbed to his feet and fired, the bullet catching the Oterian’s shoulder.

  Tusque looked at the deep gunshot wound that was seeping thick, black blood and growled deeply. He swung his huge fist backhand, catching the surprised Terran on the side of the face. His head twisted awkwardly over his shoulder with a sickening snap from the base of his neck. He fell limply to the ground.

  Eza cleared his throat to get Tusque’s attention. His arms covered in blood, he pointed into the open-air courtyard beyond the narrow overhang where Terran soldiers moved into position behind quickly erected barricades. Staring down dozens of gun barrels, Tusque smiled and pointed skyward.

  A faint, birdlike shadow spread over the Terran soldiers as Ainj glided over the defensive wall and began dropping high explosives from the bandoleer around his chest.

  The makeshift bunkers turned into pillars of blazing infernos as the explosives rocked the compound. Dusty red sand melted in the heat, turning to glass. Terran soldiers collapsed into the molten sand, their bodies consumed by the fire and shredded from shrapnel. Within both buildings, lights flickered as the generator struggled against the barrage of concussive blasts.

  As the fires slowly died, seven figures emerged from the smoky remains of soldiers and barricades. In the center, the red-robed man called them to halt before the main outpost doors. Though the building’s façade was damaged by Ainj’s explosive barrage, the sturdy doors held.

  “Tusque,” the heavily robed man said, “please open the doors for us. Everyone else, expect resistance once we’re inside. Remember our priority—recover the data disk. Get it, get out, and then we’ll take care of the base.”

  Nodding to the robed man the large Oterian reached forward, prying his fingers between the solid doors. With a heave, the strong doors screeched as metal locks tore and broke free. With a last lurch, Tusque pulled the doors from their hinges and let the stone slabs fall to the ground.

  Weapons drawn, the group entered the outpost’s cool darkness. The central foyer split left and right, leading deeper into the plateau’s hollowed rock.

  “Split into teams of two,” the robed man ordered. “Yen and Eza, take the right wing. Nova and Ixibas, the left. Tusque and I will hold the central corridor. Ainj, you’re on the roof to cover our escape. Remember, we’re on the clock. Our transport off this rock won’t wait if we’re late. Move out.”

  Yen and Eza moved to the right, winding through dark passages lit only by emergency lights. As they approached the first closed door, the pair stopped. Air shimmered around Yen as if his skin smoldered. Slowly it receded and he sighed.

  “There’s no one inside,” Yen said. “Let’s keep moving.”

  They performed the routine before three more doors while moving deeper into the plateau. The passages were disturbingly devoid of Terran soldiers, though neither Yen nor Eza believed all had been killed in the courtyard.

  After following several winding passages the pair finally stood outside a large metal door that was blocking their way. A number pad was embedded to the right of the door with a bright red light glowing above it.

  “We’re locked out,” Eza said. “We could use Nova right now.”

  “Our computer wizard left unfortunately.” The air wavered around him.

  “There’s another way.” Eza smiled and pulled a block of explosives from his bag.

  Yen held up his hand to silence Eza, sensing five distinct life forms in the room. Their thoughts, though unclear, gave him vague impressions of ambush and defense.

  “This is it,” he told Eza. “I’ll see if I can get us through the door without bringing down the roof on us.”

  Eza frowned in disappointment. “Fine. Have it your way.”

  Reaching out, Yen contacted the closest mind and pushed his way past the muddled fog of fear and nervousness to reach a cache of recent memories. Smiling, he retreated from the mind and rejoined his body.

  “Got it,” Yen said, walking to the number pad. “You ready?”

  Eza slid both his curved ax and handgun from his belt. Breathing deeply, he let his mind settle and the nervous energy drain from his body. In the back of his mind a soft Voice began whispering, filling him with confidence. He spun the ax effortlessly as he began weaving back and forth on the balls of his feet.

  We’re ready, the Voice whispered.

  “I’m ready,” Eza echoed into the gloomy hallway.

  Nodding, Yen entered the door code. The light above the panel changed from bright red to vibrant green and the metal door slid open with a hiss.

  Time slowed for Eza as he entered the room, his eyes scanning overturned tables and stacked steel chairs to create impromptu barricades. To the left and right stairs led to raised platforms where two Terran soldiers moved as if through fog, training their weapons on the Wyndgaart fighter. In front of him three more Terrans took cover behind their fortified positions.

  Eza was already running up the left stairs before the slow pounding of automatic fire began. The soldier on the platform swung his rifle to aim at the fast-moving target but Eza dropped to the ground and slid, kicking a metal chair into the Terran’s legs.

  Flipping headfirst to the ground the Terran’s face slammed into the raised platform, shattering his nose and sending teeth and blood skittering across the floor. Regaining his feet Eza brought down his ax on the back of the fallen soldier’s head, slicing cleanly through the dense skull. The top of the Terran’s head slid across the ground as blood poured from the gaping maw of his brain cavity. Eza slid behind a nearby table for cover as bullets struck the wall behind him.

  When the Terrans’ attention was distracted Yen stepped into the doorway and fired at the soldier on the raised right side of the room. His rounds caught the unsuspecting Terran in the shoulder and side of the knee. Screaming in pain, he collapsed to the ground, his rifle slipping from his fingers and sliding out of reach. Yen lunged back behind the wall as the Terrans on the ground floor returned fire.

  Their team rehearsed tactics like these many times. As the enemy shifted attention back and forth between the two targets, Eza and Yen took advantage of the openings. With the Terrans firing at Yen, Eza leaped from the raised platform. He threw his ax while in mid-flip, catching the closest Terran in the chest and lifting him from his feet. Soldier and ax, tumbling over nearby furniture, splayed onto the ground.

  Eza landed and rolled, coming to his feet inches from the second Terran. The soldier tried to bring his rifle to bear but Eza easily knocked it aside with his open hand. He raised his pistol with his free hand and fired multiple shots into the soldier’s abdomen. Gurgling, blood pooling around his groin and running freely down his legs, he slid to the ground and died.

  The final Terran aimed at Eza as the dead soldier slid to the floor. Before he could pull the trigger his face went slack and his eyes filled with perplexity.
A single shot echoed in the room as Yen shot the man in the back. The air around him wavered as he released the Terran’s nervous system. The soldier, no longer paralyzed, exhaled a final breath.

  Wordlessly, Eza collected his ax and stalked to the wounded Terran on the right landing. The Terran tried to drag himself to his rifle but explosions of pain shot through his shattered knee.

  The man turned his head toward Eza and cried in a long string of unintelligible words. Eza reached up and felt the skin behind his right ear. Just beneath the skin, he could feel the thin metal disk of his universal translator.

  “Stupid thing,” he muttered. “My translator’s on the fritz again. Yen, what’s he saying?”

  Yen shook his head. “Who cares? The Alliance all speaks the same language. Who really cares what he has to say?”

  Eza shrugged his agreement. He straddled the crawling soldier and swung his arm in an arc, bringing it down repeatedly through the Terran’s protectively raised hand.

  Satisfied the soldier was dead, Eza, covered in blood, turned to Yen. “You couldn’t have killed him instead of just winging him?” He stared at the dismembered soldier lying before him, the look of intense concentration leaving his face.

  His shoulders slumped as the Voice released control of his body. Almost disgustedly, he looked at the arterial sprays of blood covering his clothing and arms.

  “I’m a psychic, not a gunslinger,” Yen replied, stepping over a dead soldier. “Be happy I hit him at all.”

  On the far side of the room a bank of dark computer screens glowered at the intruders. Yen approached the consoles and sorted through the collection of data disks sitting haphazardly on a narrow counter. Tossing the more mundane ones over his shoulder, he paused when he found a red disk.

  “I’ve got it!” He turned to catch Eza’s eyes as the Wyndgaart tried to clean the blood staining his tanned skin.

  “Good,” Eza said, disgruntled. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  Yen smiled mischievously. “Don’t you want to know what’s on it?”

  “Yes,” Eza sighed, “but the first order we received was to collect the disk and bring it back. At no time were we….”

  “…to open it. I’m perfectly aware of what they told us but how will they know? It’s just the two of us in here.” He spun the disk between his fingers, letting it catch the light hypnotically.

  “No, Yen. This is exactly why we can’t stay out of trouble. You always have some great idea that winds up earning us extra duty. Not this time.”

  “Your loss.” He pulled out his handheld console. “All I’m saying is we’re on a secret mission attacking a Terran outpost on the outskirts of Alliance-occupied space. The fact that there’s an outpost here at all intrigues the hell out of me. If you aren’t interested, I’ll let you know if I find anything interesting.”

  He inserted the disk and the console flickered. Data poured across the screen. Yen’s face glowed with pale blue light from his monitor as he perused the files. His eyes slowly widened in surprised as he continued reading.

  Eza, noticing, came closer. “What did you find?” he asked, disgusted by his own curiosity.

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” Yen said breathlessly.

  More intrigued, Eza moved beside his friend to read the screen. Words flew past his eyes, allowing him to catch only snippets of sentences. “What am I looking at?” He couldn’t make sense of it.

  Yen didn’t speak for a moment, responding only when Eza drove a well-placed elbow into his ribs.

  Cringing, Yen said, “Let’s see. There are science plans for genetic experimentation, biological research into a new chemical weapon, Fleet plans for assault into Alliance-occupied space….”

  “Wait a second. Assaults into Alliance space? We need to let someone know.”

  “And admit we looked at the disk we were forbidden to open?”

  Before Eza could answer, their radios crackled.

  “Eza, Yen, give me an update.”

  The pair shared a knowing look as Yen slid the data disk free of his console. “Sir, we retrieved the disk and are returning to your position.”

  “Double time it,” the red-robed man said. “We’re still on the clock and are quickly running out of time.” He activated his throat mike. “Halo, this is ground team. We’re heading to the landing zone now.”

  “Move quickly,” a soft, feminine voice said. “You’re already running late and the transport won’t wait forever.”

  “Roger that, Halo. You heard the lady, Team. Meet me back in the main chamber ASAP.”

  The pair met the rest of the team in the main foyer and handed the disk to the man in red. Together the seven-member team hurried from the outpost, arriving at the pickup zone moments before the Alliance troopship landed. They turned their faces away from the billowing dust as the ship touched down on the planet’s surface and a side door slid open. It shut behind the team as they found their seats, then they were pressed into them as the transport accelerated from the atmosphere.

  The man in red activated his microphone again. “Halo, this is Magistrate Michael Vance. We’re clear of the planet and ready to begin bombardment.”

  “Roger that,” Halo’s soft, feminine voice replied. “We’re proceeding with our bombing run.”

  Vance leaned back in his padded chair as blue and purple plasma explosions engulfed the red planet’s surface.