Peter David - After Earth

Norah Kincaid was content to sit and watch. Life on Nova Prime was never easy, but the people were enjoying a nice respite. Their alien enemies, the Skrel, had not been heard from in decades, and their vile creations, the rampaging Ursa, had been largely wiped out. The last attack had been around thirty years ago, and all but a dozen of the Ursa had been killed. Those remaining beasts were elsewhere on the planet, and every night, as part of her prayers, she asked that the United Ranger Corps or age would destroy them and keep her people safe.

Those prayers appeared to have been answered—there were very few such sightings in the last handful of years.

As a result, the people once more were gazing up at the stars, wondering what else was out there. The news was filled with word that the latest anchorage, Avalon, had been successfully opened for business out in the next spiral arm. The planet Tau Ceti beckoned nearby, and Norah’s cousin Atlas had been captivated by the notion since he was a boy. Such thoughts were good ones, but the actions they might lead to were a constant source of concern. Humankind had fled Earth nearly a millennium ago and, hundreds of years after that, learned they were not alone in the universe. There were dangers out there, including but not limited to the Skrel. She had understood the warnings against tempting the fates and the hand of the creator, but there remained those who wanted to explore. It was human nature, and rather than fight it, she sought ways to embrace the yearnings while tempering them with grounded reality.

Anderson stood up, grinning at her and waving the shovel. “Come see!” he commanded.

She rose and took three steps toward him to admire the formation of a massive structure. There were towers clustered together and several smaller buildings in a semicircle. Clearly, he was the architect and had convinced the others to build from his ideas.

“All you need now is a moat to protect the village,” she said admiringly.

“What’s a moat?”

Before she could answer, sirens broke the sounds of play. She knew that sound all too well. She reached out and grabbed Anderson, who was in the process of covering his ears, his eyes clenched in disapproval.

“What is it, Mama?” he shouted.

She didn’t answer him as her eyes darted from side to side, seeking some sense of the alarm’s source. Jason looked at her, and she nodded in confirmation: an Ursa sighting. He reached into a satchel and removed a communications device. She might have taken the afternoon off, but her oath meant she could never shed its responsibilities. She took the comm unit from him and spoke into it.

“This is Dr. Kincaid. What is happening?” she asked.

The voice on the other end replied, “At least six Ursa have entered the city. One is by the main market, the other heading toward the park! You said that’s where you were going; if you’re there now, get out of there. Rangers are in pursuit.”

“I’m coming in,” she said, Anderson squirming in her arms. She handed the device back to Jason, who already had collected the toys. “Emergency protocols should already have begun. If not, someone is going to be flogged.” People were screaming and rushing about, children wailing almost louder than the siren. There was so much noise that she didn’t yet register the commotion at the other end of the park. A squad of eight Rangers had rushed in through the far gate, their shape-shifting weapons—called cutlasses—configured into swords.

Norah swiveled her head around. Where was the Ursa?

The octet of Rangers also seemed confused, forming a loose ring back to back, scanning the park. People continued to flee.

She studied the men and women, noting just how young and nervous they appeared. No doubt they grew up on tales of the genetically engineered monsters that the Skrel sent to the planet with frightening regularity, all in a vain attempt at ridding the world of life for some unknown reason.

They stood their ground, uncertain where to go. If they weren’t moving, neither was she. She tightened her grip on Anderson, who studied the Rangers in their brown smart fabric uniforms with fascination. He knew what a Ranger was; after all, her older cousin Lucius was Prime Commander, and Anderson, even as an infant, was drawn to the uniform. It was in the Kincaid blood and had been for many generations.

One Ranger heard something and looked up. Norah followed her gaze and looked at the brown- and yellow-leafed tree.

That was when she heard it: the unearthly, ferocious cry of an abomination. It became visible amid the foliage, bellowing in a horrible tone. Her nightmares had manifested, and she had to flee. In the rush of activity, Anderson squirmed free and rushed across the sandpit, away from her. She cried out to him, but with the siren and the other noises, her words were swallowed and the boy, unaware of the danger, headed right for the Rangers.

The moving target was all the Ursa needed, and it leaped from the tree toward the boy.

Time slowed for Norah as her heart slammed against her chest, each beat drowning out all other sounds.

Anderson finally stopped moving and watched the Ursa in the air. He was paralyzed with fear.

One of the Rangers also leaped into action, trying to draw the Ursa’s attention, but the monster had other ideas.

The last thing Norah saw before her world went black was the Ursa’s maw opening to devour her son as the Ranger’s bladed weapon swung through the air.

The boy woke up hours later. Norah never left his side. She was accompanied by her husband, Marco, a slightly paunchy man with dark, slicked-back hair and a mustache that once had been fashionable but now seemed oddly out of place. Anderson was groggy, blinking repeatedly as he looked around the room before focusing on his parents.

“Where… am I?” he croaked.

A nurse, also present, leaned over and gently squeezed water from a yellow bulb into his mouth. He swallowed, sputtered, swallowed again, and seemed to be becoming more alert rapidly.

“Hi, love bug,” Norah said, tears streaming down both cheeks.

“You’re in the hospital, Andy,” his father said. “How do you feel?”

He shrugged. “I dunno… sore. What happened?”

Anderson drifted off before he could hear the answer. Over the next few hours he could only hazily recall snippets of conversation. None of it seemed real to him, but it all sounded scary, so he took comfort in sleep.

He heard his father ask, “Can it be reattached?” His mother sobbed. The doctor started talking about prosthetics and how far they had progressed through the years.

Anderson also heard his parents arguing, and that hurt him in ways different from the ache in his shoulder. He heard his mom saying, “I never should have stayed in the park.” His father was agreeing but sounded very angry.

As he fully woke up, he wasn’t sure what to expect. All he knew was that he ached all over and was very thirsty.

“Mom?”

Norah turned to look at her son, and he saw that her eyes were red. His father was right behind her, his hand on her right shoulder.

Shoulder . He turned to look at where he ached. All he saw was a huge bandage and beyond that… nothing.

“Mama! Where’s my arm?!”

“The Ursa was about to kill you, but the Ranger stopped it…” she continued.

“The creature took your arm,” his father said as gently as possible. “It could not be reattached.”

Anderson blinked, his left shoulder under thick white bandages shuddering in response. “But I feel it. Mama, you’re a doctor; can’t you put it back on?” The question sounded so reasonable, and it was, if you were seven. Norah Kincaid, though, knew that there were limits to what medical science could do.