Peter David - After Earth

“Want to talk about it?”

“No, Mom, I really don’t,” he informed her.

“Okay.” She glanced toward the landing on the other side of the apartment. The veiled doors had been pulled aside, allowing a steady breeze to flow through. She licked the tip of her finger and held it up, gauging it. “Did you notice that? The wind shifted.”

He nodded. “To the northwest.” It wasn’t an especially exciting topic to talk about, but at least discussing the weather took the two of them away from matters that could well prove disastrous if engaged in.

Then they both heard sounds at the front doorway. Immediately Faia got to her feet. Kitai followed suit. He smoothed his jacket and said, “How are my lines?”

“Your lines are perfect.” She reached up and ran her hands along her face. “How are my lines?”

“Mom…”

She laughed lightly at that even as she moved across the living room to the front door. Kitai straightened his posture as Faia opened the door for his father.

Cypher Raige stood revealed in the doorway. He had two arms and two legs and his face was unscarred, so all that was good. He wore dress whites that only a Ghost could wear. His kit bag was slung over his shoulder, and there was some baggage behind him. Considering that Kitai only ever saw his father wearing his Ranger uniforms, part of him wondered what could be in all the suitcases. A dozen Ranger uniforms? Kitai had no idea.

His father was as tall and strong as Kitai remembered him. He had the same haircut as his son, with a triangular face and eyes that were cold and appraising rather than displaying any happiness over being back. That wasn’t unusual, really. It was hard for Kitai to recall a time when his father genuinely displayed happiness over anything.

For a moment, neither parent said anything. Then Cypher tilted his head slightly. “Faia.”

“Hi.”

They didn’t kiss. They never kissed, at least not when Kitai was around. God knows, he’d never discussed it with either of them. He’d just figured that Cypher felt it wasn’t appropriate.

Cypher slid the kit bag off his shoulder, and his gaze shifted to Kitai, who was standing stiff and upright by the table. “You’ve grown,” he said. Cypher then strolled forward, walking past Faia without another word, and stood there in front of his son, taking him in. Assessing him. Kitai stayed right where he was, staring straight forward, arms at his sides, legs stiff. Cypher slowly surveyed him, walking around him and studying him up and down. His voice flat, showing no emotion whatsoever, Cypher spoke as he rounded his son: “Your collar’s ragged. You have a crease on your right pant leg but not your left. Fold crease.” He took a moment to glance toward Faia with a silent accusation that clearly condemned her for letting Kitai get away with such a sloppy presentation before he continued. “Your jacket is improperly fastened. Before you present yourself for inspection, cadet, square yourself in the mirror. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

Cypher continued staring at his stricken son for long moments and then finally allowed, “But this isn’t an inspection.”

It was, of course, Cypher’s attempt to let his son off the hook, or at least that was how Kitai saw it. His father reached over and gave him an awkward pat on the back. Apparently he thought that made up for the stiff and formal greeting, as if it were all some big joke. Yet Kitai couldn’t help but feel as if it were anything but that. As if he and Cypher both knew the truth of his criticisms and Cypher had simply softened it a bit to make up for it and fool his wife. Kitai suspected that she hadn’t been deceived in the least.

Yeah. This is going to be a great night .

It took Kitai a couple of minutes to help his father get his suitcases inside. Opting to wait until after dinner to put his things away, Cypher took his customary seat at the head of the table, and they began eating. He turned to Kitai and asked the question Kitai had been dreading all day. “So, how were finals?”

Kitai didn’t respond. He had no idea what to say.

The lack of response immediately prompted Cypher to put down his lacquered utensil. He appeared to know immediately that something was up. Having received no response from his son, he turned to his wife and said again, “How were finals?”

Faia had trouble replying. Clearly she was worried that she would be betraying something about which Kitai was sensitive. Part of Kitai almost prompted him to say nothing just to see how his mother would handle it, but he knew that would be inappropriate. He had to say it himself.

But he couldn’t look at his father as he said it. Instead, he became very interested in the potatoes on his plate as he said in a low voice, “I wasn’t advanced to Ranger.”

Cypher didn’t even hesitate. “Where do we look when we speak?”

Kitai shifted his eye contact to his father. “I was not advanced to Ranger.”

“You were not advanced to Ranger…?” Cypher leaned forward, waiting for the additional word that, clearly as far as he was concerned, Kitai should have remembered to say at the end. Kitai was so distracted that for a long moment he actually forgot. Then he recalled.

“I was not advanced to Ranger, sir .”

A long silence followed. Cypher simply stared at him, almost as if trying to recall who the hell he was. The quiet seemed to stretch to infinity. Kitai fought to keep his face impassive, as if he had simply relayed news about a single poor test rather than a decision that seemed capable of destroying the rest of his life.

Then Cypher, to Kitai’s astonishment, shrugged. “That’s all right. You’re young.” And he went back to eating.

Kitai couldn’t quite believe it. That’s IT? From the minute I left Velan’s office to now, I’ve been dreading your response, and all you do is say, “That’s all right, you’re young”?

He knew on some level he should be incredibly grateful. But instead all he could think was that his father, the great Cypher Raige, really didn’t give a damn what his son did or didn’t do.

Bristling with barely contained anger, he said, “I ran the canyon eleven seconds faster than you did.”

Cypher shrugged as if that meant nothing. “Well, if you were ready, Velan would’ve promoted you. He’s a good man. Knows his stuff. You weren’t ready.” He shrugged and cut another piece of meat.

That was it. End of discussion, at least as far as Cypher was concerned. The man who expected nothing but success from himself—the man who had exhibited endless support for his daughter during her time as a Ranger—was indifferent to his son’s inability to qualify. Oh, well, maybe you’ll do better next time . That was the range of Cypher’s response.

Kitai was left with nothing to say. Part of him thought, He could have reamed you out! He could have done all the things you were afraid he’d do. Just be grateful and call it a day .

There was indeed some merit to that. His father could have ripped him to shreds. Instead, he’d just taken it in stride. Kitai should have been happy for that.

Instead, all it did was reinforce his deepest, most secret belief. He was convinced that his father really didn’t care about what he did or did not accomplish.

Kitai realized he was staring at his plate. Nothing else seemed to interest him. Finally he announced, “I’m not hungry. I’m going to my room.”

Cypher’s response was deathly quiet. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

I’m telling you .

“May I go to my room, sir?” He was already half out of his chair.

“Denied. Sit down.”

Kitai paused a moment, fighting the impulse to get up and walk away anyway. Hell, not just get up. Run. Maybe that would get a serious reaction from him.