Peter David - After Earth

The Iron Queen stood, looking each man in the eye. For the first time in hours if not days, there was certainty in their expressions. They wanted her to take control, to lead the people or die trying.

Tapping a control on the table, she said, “Computer, as of this moment, Khantun Timur Raige is no longer the Prime Commander.”

“Acknowledged,” the artificial intelligence replied.

“Effective immediately, Khantun Timur Raige will be listed as the Imperator. All Citadel and Mirador commands will now flow through Ranger protocols.”

“Acknowledged,” the computer repeated.

The Iron Queen was retired and in her place stood Nova Prime’s Imperator, charged with protecting the people of Nova Prime and driving the Skrel from its skies.

Khantun moved closer to a holo display and watched one Skrel ship dip low over the city.

She grabbed a small device that remotely controlled the station. “This is Raige. Varuna flights Alpha and Gamma, converge on target over the northwest medical center. Target exhaust ports.”

“Roger, Prime Commander,” came a female voice. “Do we have confirmation on where that is exactly?”

“Use your thermal imagers to trace heat emissions. Target their hottest spots and fire at will.”

“Acknowledged.”

It had yet to be tried, but now was the time to be unorthodox. If the Skrel were going to play this game, she was here to win it. Silently, she studied the two purple blips registering the squads of flyers as they converged on the Skrel ship, which was moving into a position that would mean the medical center was destined for rubble.

The purple blips grew closer to the red at a remarkable rate.

Khantun caught herself holding her breath and forced herself to exhale through her nose. Deep breaths.

The purple blips touched the red dot and then the red winked off the screen.

“Target down,” the female voice said.

“Good shooting,” the Imperator told them.

Before she could redeploy them, her new adjutant entered the war room and handed her a tablet. Scrawled across the screen was a note from Brom, safely at Mama Sam’s and asking innocently about a missing file. Khantun allowed herself a moment—just a moment—of relief.

Khantun’s son was safe, and the planet would be, too.

The darkness inevitably gave way to light, and the sun began to rise above the horizon. Kitai was startled awake as he tried to move and felt constricted. He stretched and felt trapped under something. Panic forced his eyes open, and a ray of morning sunshine streaking through a gap in his binding nearly blinded him. He strained against whatever it was that confined him. Reduced to crawling, the teen moved toward the light and the promise of escape.

He was inside a leaf-covered ditch, piled high and thick, but still, he could escape. With both hands, he tugged at the leaves and tore through them, enlarging the gap, and finally crawled to his freedom. Regaining his footing, Kitai studied the sky for a moment, noting the thick clouds and brightening blue as the sun now was fully visible. He kept expecting a second sun to join it in the sky eventually, but that was back home and he was trapped here, on Earth.

He was distracted by watching his breathing condense into a mist, and he finally acknowledged how cool it was, although the sun was rapidly melting the thin coating of ice that covered everything. Slowly studying his surroundings, Kitai made a circle and was startled to see that atop the makeshift nest was the huge condor. This giant bird was now a friendly figure. He drew closer, tapping the still figure, and said, “Hey.”

He tapped the bird a second time, adding, “Thanks.” But she did not respond. In fact, she didn’t twitch in the cool air or appear to be breathing. With mounting horror, Kitai examined the protective bird and realized she had covered him in the nest and then kept him warm by sitting atop it, and rather than expose him to the elements, she’d sacrificed herself, freezing to death during the night.

Stunned, Kitai silently mourned her, appreciating the first act of kindness a resident of the planet had shown him. Although he wanted to say or do something to acknowledge her act, especially in the wake of her losing her chicks, he was at a loss for words. This was an entirely new experience atop all the others he’d had over the last few days. Worse, he didn’t have time to spare. He turned and moved solemnly into the jungle.

His mind was a jumble of thoughts, overwhelmed by the condor’s selfless act. His mind drifted to Senshi. He was helpless then, too, and someone died so that he could live. Maybe there was a difference between being a coward and being unafraid to accept help. Maybe there was strength in realizing and accepting that you’re not alone.

He was also concerned about the amount of time and distance left to accomplish his mission, which made him worry about his injured and possibly dying father. It was overwhelming, but his father’s image and stern countenance urged him to focus on the mission.

He studied the subtle trail and followed it, sweeping his eyes from side to side and making certain to keep his ears alert. The hunt continued as the sun rose higher, and he started to notice that his constant walking was beginning to take a toll on him. He could hear how labored his breathing was getting, but he was determined to go as far as possible before death could claim him. Soon the jungle thinned, and he was walking through grassland, squinting in the sunlight, wishing the lifesuit’s backpack came with sunglasses. He admired the surroundings and the scattering of animals that moved back and forth, continuing to ignore his presence, for which he remained grateful.

The warm air dried him out, and he tried to clear his throat, but instead, he coughed. First it was a slight irritation, but then it grew worse, and soon he was hacking and feeling like hell. The breathing gel had run its course, and his system was clearing out the last of it. The coughing fit continued, and he had trouble catching his breath, worsening his difficulty. He stood, hands on his knees, coughing and dreading his condition.

One final racking cough sent him to his knees.

While close to the grass, he looked down, trying to catch his breath. All he saw was dirt and tall grass, but then, in his peripheral vision, he finally spotted something shiny, reflecting the noonday sun. Unable to rise, he crawled toward the object, feeling less like a Ranger and more like a two-year-old with a new toy.

As he neared the object, Kitai saw that the jagged off-white item was metallic with numbers stenciled on it. Holding it gently in his left hand, he studied it and saw that the word Hesper was on the half-meter-long piece of the ship.

With renewed energy, he stood, holding the debris that had given him hope. His efforts had not been wasted and he was nearing the mission’s goal, and so he began to walk, then trot back toward the jungle. It wasn’t long before he noted that his dwindling oxygen boost was costing him energy. He had little choice but to keep moving, but then he spotted another piece of the ship. Despite his lungs now feeling as if they were constricted, wrapped in plastic, he forged ahead with determination. His body, though, repeatedly signaled its distress by making him cough again and again. It was as if he were issuing a homing signal to predators: Come and get me.

Yet with each newly discovered piece of wreckage, he ignored it all and kept moving. The frequency of discovery increased, and he continued forward, each step and piece of debris punctuated with fresh coughing.

Pausing to catch his breath, which now hurt with each shallow lungful of air, he saw a wiry, strange-looking tree. Gnarled and old, the bark was flaking in spots where animals might have butted it to sharpen their antlers. It stretched in many directions and grew very tall indeed. Encouraged, Kitai leaped to the first limb and then scrambled aggressively up the branches until he was high enough to look over the dense jungle shrubbery. It hurt and he wanted to rest, but images of his dying father propelled him forward.