Burden of Sisyphus Read Free Page B

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.   He tried to drag himself to his rifle, but explosions of pain shot through his shattered knee.   Eza stepped up behind him, straddling the crawling soldier, and swung his arm in an arc, bringing it down repeatedly on the injured man.
                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