Peter David - After Earth

Cade felt his gorge rise, battled it back down, and reached for his pulser. But it was gone. He looked around, couldn’t find it in the swirl of dust and debris. Obviously, it had fallen off his belt when the Ursa had burst into the building.

Sometimes a single kill was all the creature required. It would dig in and forget about its other potential victims. But not this time. The Ursa’s head swiveled around, its maw opening and closing, its jagged teeth clashing as if it craved something more. It had no eyes; Cade knew that in lieu of sight Ursa were able to detect pheromones secreted by fear and lock onto their victims.

And from all appearances, it seemed to settle on Cade.

The thing was only a couple of meters away from him—a pitifully short leap away. Too short for him to scramble for cover and have any hope of making it.

All he could do was steel himself, fully expecting the Ursa to grab him and dissolve his guts as it had dissolved the Ranger’s.

But for some reason, it didn’t. It lumbered past him as if he weren’t even there.

It’s not going after me , he thought wildly, scarcely able to believe his luck. It’s not going after me. Why isn’t it going after me?

It sprang at another Ranger instead. Her squad mates slashed at it with their cutlasses, keeping the thing at bay. But the Rangers’ defense wouldn’t last forever. Eventually, the creature would break through and dismember its prey.

As it always did.

And then what? Cade wondered.

How long would it be before the monster finished the Rangers and remembered the morsel it had left behind? It might not even wait that long.

Escape , he thought. There’s got to be a way out . And he had to find it now, while the Rangers were still distracting the creature.

But he was trapped in a corner of the warehouse, the Ursa blocking his way out. He couldn’t get to the front door, couldn’t get through the hole it had made in the wall, couldn’t even find the trapdoor under the wretched landscape of debris.

That was why he had to do something to the Ursa before it did something to him. But what?

Then he realized that the answer to his question had been a few strides away from him all along. He had just been too focused on the Ursa to know it. Just this side of the monster, lying on the floor next to the lifeless hand of the Ranger who had dropped it, lay a cutlass.

It was long, thin, gleaming in the harsh glare of the overhead lights. And it could kill an Ursa—Cade had seen it happen once, when he was little. He had seen a squad of Rangers fighting one of the creatures; one Ranger leaped onto the Ursa’s back and drove her cutlass into the thing’s soft spot. He had convinced himself that that is what real power was: forcing your opponent—be it life, some monster, or a client thirsty for stolen goods—into submission. Believe you cannot be touched, and you won’t.

Of course, he’d never used such a weapon in his life. But he knew the Rangers used finger pressure to change the thing’s shape. How hard could it be?

I just have to reach it before the Ursa sees me . He licked his lips, which suddenly felt very dry. Just… get to it .

Cade hadn’t lived his life making safe choices. He was a gambler. And to that point, he had always won. I’ll win this time, too , he assured himself. Watch me .

And he went for the cutlass.

Funny thing… even after Ursa imprinted on their intended victims, they were known to turn on would-be attackers. And in this case, Cade was a would-be attacker. But the thing didn’t seem to notice him.

Not when he grabbed the cutlass, not when he rolled, and not even when he popped to his feet within striking distance of the creature. As it turned out, he’d been wrong about the weapon’s controls; now that he saw them, he had no idea what to do with them. He let the cutlass remain in its spear form as he targeted the Ursa’s soft spot and stabbed at it from behind.

But what Cade hit wasn’t soft. It was hard enough to deflect his attack.

Bellowing with rage, the thing spun to strike back at him. Uh oh , he thought. Its maw dripped blood and gore as it opened to take a chunk out of him.

Except it didn’t. The Ursa just stood there, looking confused somehow.

Cade took a couple of steps back, but the Rangers behind the Ursa didn’t. They went after it from behind. And they, fortunately, seemed to know where it was vulnerable.

They didn’t all hit their target, but at least one of them did. A cutlass sticking out of its back, the monster reared and screamed.

Cade didn’t think; he just reacted, hauling back and throwing his cutlass with all his might. It skewered the Ursa through its throat or, rather, what looked like its throat. He wasn’t a scientist; he couldn’t say.

The thing staggered around, crashing into containers and ripping them open so that their contents went flying everywhere. Cade knew that if it hit him with one of its flailing limbs, he would be dead—no question. But he pressed his back as far into the wall as he could and stayed out of harm’s way.

Finally, the Ursa collapsed onto the warehouse floor, the silver shaft of Cade’s cutlass still protruding from its throat and the other end protruding from its back. But even then it wasn’t dead. It still thrashed a little every few seconds for what seemed like a long time. Finally, it seemed to lie still.

You’ve got to go , Cade told himself, even though he wanted to stay and revel in his victory.

There would be more Rangers descending on the place. He had to get out before they got there.

But even as he urged himself to run, he was wondering what had kept the Ursa from killing him, what had kept it—it seemed at the time—from even knowing he was there.

Stop wondering and go! he thought, his instinct of self-preservation overriding his curiosity.

He went.

But he hadn’t taken two steps before he found a Ranger barring his way.

She pointed the business end of her cutlass at him and said, “ Freeze . You’re not going anywhere.”

Cade had never been in a jail cell before. He couldn’t say he especially liked the accommodations.

But then, he had always prized his freedom; that was one reason he’d avoided the constraints of a traditional job, traditional hours, even traditional people. But his cell, a small gray windowless space with a bed built into the wall, a ceramic sink, and a ceramic bowl, was about as constraining as it could get.

Of course, he wouldn’t be consigned to the place for any length of time until he’d had the benefit of a trial. Even black marketers got that. Not that it would matter in the long run.

After all, they caught me with stolen components . That shipment alone would be worth a few years. And they probably had evidence of other transactions he had made, or they wouldn’t have gone after him in the first place.

I’m screwed , he thought, plunking himself down on his bed just as the door to his cell whispered aside, revealing a tall, broad-shouldered figure standing in the corridor outside. The guy, whose face was half in shadow, was wearing a Ranger uniform.

But he wasn’t armed, and so he wasn’t Cade’s escort to the courtroom. Then who…?

The guy entered the cell, and the prisoner got a better look at him. A good enough look to get him wondering what the hell was going on.

It wasn’t every day Commander Rafe Velan of the United Ranger Corps paid a visit to a lowly black marketer.

“Bellamy,” Velan said, his voice deep and resonant. It echoed in the cell.

“That’s right,” Cade replied cautiously.