Peter David - After Earth

A claw stabbed into her leg, going right through the Ranger uniform and into muscle. It closed and pulled, and she felt tendons and muscles and veins being ripped from her body. Another of the legs thrust into her stomach and repeated the grisly action.

Senshi’s sight grew dim, for which she was thankful, not at all wishing to see her insides on display. Her mind clouded with images of Kitai, safely in the case; of Faia, off someplace else, clueless to the fact that her only daughter was bleeding out in this very moment; of Cypher Raige, the Prime Commander, watching her actions with disapproval and pointing out all of the cutlass maneuvers she should have used.

All she wanted was to please him, to follow in his footsteps and carry on the proud Raige name. Instead, she was dying, no longer able to feel the pain.

Senshi knew that the creature reached out and knocked her off her feet, which didn’t take all that much effort considering that one of her legs was little better than grated cheese. Although she no longer could focus or feel the pain as shock bathed her nervous system, her ears worked just fine as the Ursa let out a fresh roar. She matched it with her own terrified shriek, a duet of life and death.

The beast was atop her now, three legs pinning her down, each cutting fresh wounds into her battered body. It dripped saliva on her, and it was rank. Her vision went from blurry to dim to dark. She was dying. It would have been easy to think that she had failed the Rangers—and perhaps she had—but she found some solace in knowing that her baby brother would live to see another day. She hadn’t failed her family. The thought brought her a measure of peace. She hoped they would forgive her for leaving them. She hoped her father would forgive her. In a small voice, as if he were close enough to hear her ask, she softly said, “Dad.”

The Ursa crushed her mangled body. Senshi welcomed oblivion.

Kitai lay on his back, a dying snow angel. His crimson blood was mixing with the ash’s clear white. He tried to reach for the cutlass on his back but came up with air, forgetting it was nearby. He let his arm fall and looked down at the limb as the gray ash adhered to his wet skin.

He thought, That’s really pretty .

He closed his eyes and there were Senshi’s loving eyes as she leaned close to him.

Then he saw the mother condor, fighting to protect her babies.

Senshi’s eyes darted around the room and fixed on a rounded glass box with plants in it.

The bee jousting with the spider in a lightning flash.

Senshi is leaning close, whispering in his ear.

He crawls from the nest, protected by the dead condor.

The bee ceases to struggle, then breaks its bonds.

Kitai is swimming in the shaft of light, his lungs ready to burst.

Senshi takes one final look toward Kitai. She nods confidently and makes a down-handed gesture to indicate that he should stay low.

That everything is going to turn out just fine.

On the raft with Senshi. Her lips brushing his ear, to impart a secret. He hears her say, “Forgive yourself.”

Kitai opened his eyes in the cooling air. The gray ash was lightly coating his body. He studied himself and realized he was being layered head to toe in the ash. Skin, blood, and smart fabric were vanishing beneath this new gray skin.

His reverie was broken by the sound of the Ursa finally breaking through the top of the shaft. Although he couldn’t see the camouflaged beast, he could hear it steady all six limbs on the mountainside. It was now free to kill him.

Kitai was not worried. He was breathing steadily, his mind focused on something other than the Ursa.

The Ursa approached him at a deliberate pace, not rushing the kill. As it moved forward, closing the gap, it did not notice that the ash was also coating its invisible form, rendering it visible. Dusted, it could no longer rely on camouflage.

The Ursa continued to move toward its target, gray ash coating every portion of its hideous body. Dark blood seeped from its wounds, acting as a paste to keep the ash from flaking off. Kitai watched as it slowed down, seemingly confused for the first time. It swiveled its neckless head back and forth, clearly trying to regain his scent. And failing.

A small smile crossed Kitai’s face for the first time in what felt like days. He pushed himself up to rest on one knee, careful not to make a sound but also no longer worried about the creature. Rising to both feet, he stood, his back to the Ursa, and concentrated on his surroundings.

Kitai’s vital signs resumed their even baseline reading, and the warning lights flickered off. Cypher studied them, certain the system had not malfunctioned, and then settled back with a wince, watching the screens around him. Everything remained stable and steady. His son was seemingly in control of the situation. That was when he noticed a tear splash against the back of his hand. Cypher looked down at it; flicked his eyes once more to the screen, which remained unchanged; and let the tears finally come. It was the only thing he could do that didn’t physically hurt. That, and watch his son do what so few had done before.

Kitai knew that he was standing high atop a volcanic black mountain. That an Ursa, which had imprinted on him, was standing just meters away. That the means for his salvation were in his hands—the cutlass to deal with the Ursa and the homing beacon to save his father.

Time seemed to slow down as he concentrated on his breathing, mastering his emotions and achieving a state of being he had never felt before.

For once, he was finally in control. He wasn’t, before—not with Senshi, and not with the kind mother condor. But that was okay. He was helpless then, but they had risked their lives so that he could keep living his own. That’s how much they loved him.

That’s how much Kitai loved his father.

Sure in what he had to do, Kitai walked almost casually past the Ursa, which continued to turn in a complete circle, seeking its prey, and bent to collect his cutlass. Now armed, he returned to the Ursa and defiantly stood before it, face to face. The ash continued to fall, flakes settling on his cheeks, almost anointing him on the planet of his forebearers.

Grasping the cutlass with both hands, he tapped in a command, splitting the armament into identical parts. Now hefting twin-bladed weapons, he tightened his grip and ran toward the Ursa.

A gray ghost charged across the rocky terrain, almost invisible to anyone watching.

The other ashen figure finally heard the approaching footfalls and tensed itself for a renewed battle.

It was not to be.

Instead, Kitai moved toward a rocky growth and launched himself high into the air, sailing through the distance and landing on the Ursa’s back. Noting where the wounds continued to leak its noxious blood, Kitai plunged the dual cutlasses into those access points and buried them deep.

The Ursa screamed, but in a tone Kitai had not heard before. It was clearly a scream of unimaginable pain. Perhaps this was the first time the beast had felt its own mortality. It shrieked and spun about, writhing and attempting without success to dislodge the tiny human on its back.

As the Ursa bucked, Kitai gripped both pieces of his weapon tightly and rode it out, slamming repeatedly into the beast’s bony body. He banged an elbow against a piece of metal that the Skrel had woven into its flesh for additional protection. That made him loosen one hand, and he nearly lost his balance and his position atop the beast. Done with riding and wishing to end it, he tapped a pattern into both handles, and the weapons altered their configurations.