Peter David - After Earth

There was no sign of the Ursa’s corpse.

That was very bad, and Kitai backed away from the damaged pod, weighing his options. First was the original mission target: the homing beacon.

It took time, and he felt each passing minute weigh on him, but he was methodical in working deeper into the remains of the Hesper and was rewarded with the section of hull where the beacon was stored. Surprisingly, it was intact in its cubby, unlike its twin, and he snapped it free. To be certain it would work, he backed out of the ship and into the clear space the crash had created. As he moved, he thumbed it to life and was delighted to hear the whir of the beacon cycling to life.

Cypher was nodding his head, his mind filled with images of home. He was there, out of uniform and in casual clothes he didn’t recognize. He and Kitai were sitting at the table, the remains of a meal between them. Faia was nowhere to be seen, but he missed her; that he was sure of.

The two obviously had been talking for some time, and he watched himself lean forward, a comforting hand coming down atop Kitai’s right forearm.

“Now listen to me,” he told his son.

Kitai stared at him blankly.

“Are you listening to me?” he asked in a tone he didn’t like hearing. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, it was low and forceful, making it clear that his meaning was unambiguous.

“You are not responsible when your father is not home.”

He nodded to himself because Kitai was not arguing but listening intently.

“You may have felt like I was angry at you, and maybe I was. But that was wrong.”

He nodded once more. Cypher was getting through to the boy.

“You were a child. I should have been there. You were right. I was a coward for being away from you guys for so long.”

Kitai finally opened his mouth to reply, but rather than words, he emitted a beep.

His son didn’t beep.

What was happening?

Forcing open his eyes, which were stinging from salty sweat, Raige noticed the secondary screen that was monitoring Kitai’s vitals. A steady beep was a welcome sound and gave the gravely ill man a point of focus. The peaks and valleys of a steady, healthy heartbeat were reason to remain hopeful.

Somehow, Kitai was still alive!

Then, from the speaker nearby: “Dad… are you there?”

It sounded like Kitai, but Cypher was having trouble focusing. He felt like he could not take a deep breath, just shallow, rapid ones. That wasn’t good. Shaking it off, he looked at the monitors and then spotted a grainy image of his son’s face flickering on the screen. That’s odd , he thought. The signal should be clear . The shaking stopped as his son steadied the backpack’s built-in camera. It was Kitai for certain.

“Dad?”

Cypher didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. He lacked the strength. But his hearing was working just fine, and his son’s voice was most welcome.

“Dad, I made it to the tail. Over.”

The tail? Kitai made it to the tail? Was this more of the hallucination? He blinked. His son’s grainy face remained in place. The expression had gone from happy to serious as no response was forthcoming. Clearing his throat took an effort, but finally Raige said, “Are… are you okay? Over.”

“Dad? Are you there? Over.”

That was odd. He had heard his own words; why hadn’t Kitai?

“Kitai?”

“Dad, I made it to the tail. Are you there?”

Of course he was. Where else would he be without both legs in working order? “I’m here!” he said.

“Dad, please copy.”

Cypher tried one more time: “I copy.”

That seemed to work, and Kitai’s face looked relieved. “It’s Kitai. I made it.”

The exchange seemed to recharge Raige somewhat, chasing away the nightmare images. “There’s something wrong with the signal, Kitai.”

“… Dad.” Yes, the static was going to make this conversation nearly impossible. “Dad, you’re still there, right? Can you hear me? Over.” His son was looking on the verge of panic, and that would not do.

Raising his voice, hoping he could punch through the static by sheer will, Cypher said, “Kitai! I swear to you I’m here!”

His will failed him as Kitai repeated, “Dad, please. The Ursa is not contained. Do you copy?”

Cypher realized that while he could hear his son, Kitai was effectively deaf to his words. There was no way he could guide and assist the teen, which anguished the general.

“No,” escaped from Cypher’s lips. It’s hunting him . Frustration energized him, and a flat hand slammed the console, the age-old remedy for balky equipment. Nothing changed.

By the time Kitai made his way outside toward the already setting sun, the homing beacon signaled that it was ready for use. Even if he couldn’t talk to his dad, he could save him. He was still alive, and now he had the beacon. Help would be coming. Of course, there was some thirty-two parsecs separating Nova Prime from Earth, but still, help would save his father.

There was no use sitting in the tail section futilely trying to converse with his injured father. Instead, he clicked off the naviband he had retrieved from a fallen Ranger half-buried in the wreckage and put on his backpack. The clouds were thick, obscuring some of the sunlight, but clouds meant nothing to the homing beacon that would traverse the stars. Standing away from the wreckage, he held the beacon high over his head and activated the device. The rounded upper section rose from the base and winked to life. The horseshoe-shaped display indicated it was fully charged and ready to transmit.

Kitai took a deep breath—which still felt great—and fired the device.

He waited for confirmation that the signal had been sent but was greeted with silence. Lowering his arm, he studied the device, and right above the red light in the center were the words signal interference .

Within the forward section of the Hesper , Cypher watched the readouts and was disheartened to see the words signal interference flash repeatedly. He was frustrated and angered that this was happening, but while he had the energy and focus, he would be damned if he’d just sit there doing nothing to help. His fingers stabbed at the command controls near him, and a holographic map appeared. The dozens of flying probes continued to transmit signals that the computer assembled into a three-dimensional relief map of the topography where Kitai stood. He narrowed the focus and spotted a mountain shape just past the blinking dot that represented his last best hope.

Another adjustment was made, and the image was now that of his son. Kitai looked fit and whole, which pleased Cypher, but then he saw the boy throw his backpack away from him. He moved about, arms flailing and mouth wide open, screaming words Cypher could not hear. If anything, it reminded him of the temper tantrums Kitai had had when he was a toddler. Cypher knew he couldn’t stop the useless behavior even if he understood it, but he still whispered, “Take a knee, cadet.”

The words were not heard, and now Kitai was swinging the fully extended cutlass without grace. It was just blind rage and anger fueling him as he cut away pieces of the tail section. He whipped the weapon about his body and let it cut deeply into a panel that still had power, emitting a shower of sparks. He moved away and continued to shout and smack the ship and breathe hard until the rage that roiled within him had been exhausted.

Kitai lowered the weapon. Cypher watched in fascination as his son expelled the last of the frustration and, on his own, took a knee. Nodding to himself, the general was pleased. Wiping away the tears that stained his cheeks, Kitai needed a new plan. Something was preventing the homing beacon from working, and every minute wasted meant the sun was lowering, the Ursa was prowling, and his father was dying. He didn’t have time for such outbursts and felt bad about his behavior, thankful his father wasn’t there to witness it.