Peter David - After Earth

“Cadet, let me see the case.”

This is it . There was no hiding the situation any longer.

Kitai held the case up where Cypher could see it. Only two vials were left. He waited for his father’s response. And waited.

“I thought that I could make it, sir,” he said finally.

No answer. Then Cypher said, “Abort mission. Return to the ship. That is an order.”

For a split second, Kitai’s mind flashed back to when Senshi put him in the glass box and told him not to come out. That, too, was an order, and she died.

“No, Dad. We, I can do it, I can, I don’t need that many. I can get across with just two.”

“You need a minimum of three inhalers to make it to the tail ; you have exhausted your resources,” Cypher said, failing to keep the frustration and anger out of his voice.

“I can get across,” Kitai insisted. “I can do it with just two, Dad.”

His father was adamant. “This mission has reached abort criteria. I take full responsibility. You did your best; you have nothing more to prove. Now return to the ship.”

Kitai hung his head in shame. His father was right. There was no way he could make it to the tail on the breathing fluid he had left. He looked out at the waterfall.

Unless…

“What was your mistake? Trusting me? Depending on me? Thinking that I could do this?”

There was no hesitation in his father’s response. “I am giving you an order… to turn around and return to this ship.”

I’ve got 80 percent , he thought to himself. I could sky it .

“You wouldn’t give any other Ranger that order,” he said to the air.

“You are not a Ranger, and I am giving you that order,” his father snapped.

No, he wasn’t a Ranger, but he knew what it took to be one. He had prepared so hard, including being able to use the lifesuit’s aerial abilities.

“Come back to the ship, cadet.”

But what good would that do? “You said we would both die if I didn’t make it to the tail.”

“An error in strategy on my part. I take full responsibility. Now, I gave you a direct order.”

All his life, he had been in awe of his father. He would never even have considered disobeying a direct order from Cypher. Until now .

Kitai felt himself overcome by a wave of emotion. Everything he had always kept bottled up inside, everything he had wanted to say to his father. How it was so obvious that he didn’t believe in his son. How the mere sight of Kitai made Cypher so ashamed, he stopped coming home.

Everything he felt, he was saying it now.

“What was I supposed to do?” he screamed. “What did you want me to do?! She gave me an order! She said no matter what, don’t come out of that box! What was I supposed to do—just come out and die?”

“What do you think, cadet? What do you think you should have done? Because really that’s all that matters.”

There was a moment’s silence before Cypher said again, “What do you think you should have done?”

Kitai walked up to the edge of the falls. He could see the mist, the birds rising from it and diving into it. He could hear the incredible roar of the water far, far below.

Kitai was boiling with fear, anger, and frustration. His reply was unguarded and came out with a rush. “And where were you? She called out for you; she called your name! And you weren’t there ’cause you’re never there! And you think I’m a coward? You’re wrong! I’m not a coward! You’re the coward!

“I’m. Not. A. Coward.” Cypher stared at Kitai, at his son. What was he supposed to have done? He felt as if he had been hit with a rock—and by his own son. No one had ever said that out loud to him. He had thought it on his own many times, too many to count. But he could never admit it, never confront it, never face up to the truth that he hadn’t been there when Senshi needed him most.

Kitai had been a boy, a small, frightened boy. But what was my excuse? Cypher asked himself. Where was I when she needed someone to defend her from that Ursa?

He felt himself falling as if from a great height into a dark, bottomless pit. Where was I?

He’d sworn an oath to the colony. An oath to the Corps. That was why he had been away from home all the time, why he had never given enough of himself to his family.

Because of my oath .

Suddenly, his anger and his pain and his resentment were all spent. There was nothing left inside him but remorse.

Kitai stood above the falls, hyperventilating from the emotion of what his father had said to him and what he had said in return.

Then, before even he was sure he was going to do so, he turned, took two steps, and dived off the cliff.

For a single, sublime moment he hung there, arms outstretched, floating on an updraft of air. He had time to think about how peaceful it was, how completely and utterly serene. Then the ground flew up at him, a huge uprush of wind snatching sound away from his ears. His father yelled something, but he couldn’t make it out.

At the same time, his lifesuit released fabric on either side from his leg to his outstretched arm, and he wasn’t falling anymore. He was gliding, soaring like a bird. They really didn’t teach this until Phase 2, but he had studied in advance, and boy, was he thankful that he’d cheated a bit. He glided lower, not into the water at the base of the falls but over it. Making adjustments in the positioning of his arms and legs, he changed direction and followed the flow of the river through the lush landscape below.

His lifesuit, he noticed, had turned black. Free-falling at an insane rate of speed, he slid past rock walls and over ledges, the wind pulling at the skin of his face like a G-force thrust. Then he heard his father yell at him again, and this time he could figure out what Cypher was saying. It was: “Kitai, you’ve got incoming; dive! Dive!”

For what? he wondered. Then he felt something hit him with bone-jarring force, sending him spinning out of control. As Kitai fought to regain control, he saw a massive birdlike creature—something that resembled a condor—circling around for another pass at him.

Food , Kitai thought. It thinks I’m food.

Reluctant to become a meal for the thing, Kitai pulled his arms in to his sides and pressed his legs together. The configuration allowed him to arrow through the air at top speed. But it didn’t stop the predator from slamming into him a second time, its razor-sharp talons narrowly missing his face. The air knocked out of him, Kitai lost his discipline and went into a clumsy, head-over-heels free fall. The air rushed by him so quickly that it was hard for him to breathe. He felt himself begin to lose consciousness. Darkness ate at the edges of his vision.

“Kitai!”

Cypher watched from his place in the cockpit as the vicious-looking airborne predator banked in preparation for a third attempt on Kitai’s life. He couldn’t tell if his son was still conscious. All he could see for sure, through Kitai’s camera, was that the monstrous creature was heading straight for his son, its cruelly curved beak wide open.

Irrationally, Cypher tried to get up. But he couldn’t, and the pain of his attempt forced a scream from his throat. Through his terror and his agony, he stared at the holographic screen. The creature let out a blood-chilling screech as it attacked. Then it slammed straight into Kitai’s camera, filling it with its bulk.

Vanessa Raige was running. She controlled her breathing and felt her leg muscles strain to gain speed. All around her, there was carnage as the Ursa carved a fresh scar onto the surface of Nova Prime. Their coming was unexpected, and their three-legged nature caught everyone by surprise. The first ones had been four-legged beasts, and this new breed appeared to be just as deadly.