Peter David - After Earth

“Ursa are monsters, and they come at you with everything they’ve got. And they’ve got a lot. Six legs, teeth, paralytic venom… everything. It’s almost impossible to go up against one of them and be totally unafraid. But Dad did it. I mean… he just, you know, he did it. He did it when no one else in the history of humanity had done it. And they called him a Ghost. The first one ever. So I’d just kind of like to know how it was that first time. How he did it.”

“Honey…”

He realized she wasn’t looking at him. Instead she seemed to be staring off into space, as if her mind had partly checked out. Kitai expected that she was putting together her recollections of that moment.

For a surprisingly long time, she said nothing at all. Then, finally: “Have you ever tried asking him yourself?”

“Yeah. He, uh…” Kitai shrugged. “He would just shrug. And he’d just say that fear was something that could be controlled, and he just, you know… managed it. But he’s never gone into any detail beyond that, and I…”

“Stopped asking.”

“Yeah.”

She stroked his short hair as she sighed. “Okay, well… so did I. Maybe he’ll tell you someday.”

Kitai nodded but said nothing more. There didn’t seem to be much point. If there was one thing Kitai had learned after all this time, it was that everything having to do with his father fell into the realm of “maybe” and “someday.” The problem was that Kitai couldn’t decide if he wanted to be there when the maybe or the someday actually happened.

Kitai’s father stared at him. Just stared.

Kitai took the opportunity to practice his attitudes. At first he indulged himself with a huge smile, but then he decided that it made him look too smug, and so he changed it for something extremely modest. After that, he tried an expression in between. All during the smile time, he practiced different oral sentiments ranging from “I knew I had it the entire time” to “I think they were being generous” and countless other statements as well. The whole time, Kitai’s father maintained his hard, unmoving expression.

“Raige! Move it!”

He nodded to no one in particular and turned in the direction of Bo, who was shouting over to him from the elevators. His father remained right where he was, which was hardly unusual: He wasn’t really there. Instead it was his image, a frieze carved into the wall of him along with six other people. They were collectively the seven Ghosts in the history of the Rangers. His father, Cypher Raige, had been the first, and over time six others had developed the ghosting technique as well. Kitai wondered if he likewise would develop the ability. One thing at a time. First you become a Ranger. Let everything else work out after that .

He left his father carved in stone and joined the other cadets in the elevator. Moments later they were heading down into the bowels of Ranger headquarters. There was little discussion or banter among the cadets. All of them were understandably wrapped up in their individual thoughts, which were, as it happened, all exactly the same: Did I make it?

Kitai glanced around at those standing near him. Every one of them looked nervous. Kitai tried to hide his confidence from them. All it would do was irritate them.

Minutes later the elevator delivered them to their destination: a series of offices in the tallest section of the HQ. The higher up you were, the more vital the offices. The view of the city from these levels was said to be spectacular and one of the perks of command.

There were no stools or benches of any kind in the hallway outside Commander Velan’s office. It was Velan’s job to oversee the development of cadets into Rangers, and his was the final word on whether one qualified to make that jump. Kitai was utterly confident in Velan’s decision-making abilities. Velan had a keen eye for talent, and Kitai was certain that he would have had no trouble seeing Kitai’s capabilities despite the attempts by others to try to deter or impede them.

Three other cadets were called in before Kitai. He stood in place, leaning slightly against the wall for support. No one spoke save whenever a cadet emerged from Velan’s office. In this instance, each of the three who emerged one by one did so with a C-10 model of a cutlass in his hand. That meant, of course, that they had passed, and each was greeted with quiet congratulations from the others. Hands were shaken, backs were patted. Kitai did the same thing as the others, welcoming them into the fold of Nova Prime’s planetary protectors. It was odd, of course, because the people who were welcoming them were hoping that they would have the same bounty handed to them.

“Raige!” came Velan’s sharp voice from within his office. Kitai promptly snapped to attention, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. There was no doubt in his mind that he was going to be coming out with his own C-10, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be humble about it.

He entered as the door closed behind him. Kitai stood at full attention, chin snapped forward, eyes leveled on Velan, who was seated behind his desk. Velan was glancing at some holographic material Kitai took to be written reports on his performance from the previous day.

“Your test scores were very impressive,” Velan said. “You’ve got a Ranger’s mind. No doubt about that.”

It was a huge strain for Kitai not to smile broadly. He had expected nothing less, and it was good that the Rangers who had been doing the scoring had seen that in him. It was indeed the only thing that had concerned him: that they’d be so annoyed by his determination and skills that they might try to sink him just out of hostility. He realized he should have known better. That was simply not how Rangers operated, and he would be sure to remember that—

“But I’m not advancing you this year.”

Kitai felt as if the world had suddenly slipped out from underneath him, leaving him in an endless headlong free fall. The words hit him again one at a time like stones, the two heaviest and most painful of which were not and advancing .

How was it possible? He almost asked Velan to repeat himself —almost . But somehow he stopped short of that.

He was so stunned that he did not even see the compassion in Velan’s face. There was no room in Kitai’s world for compassion. All he cared about was accomplishing his goals, and here Velan was calmly smashing them to pieces.

Everything else that he wanted to do in his life, up to and most important making his father happy, hinged on his becoming a Ranger. And here Velan was sitting there calm as you please after telling him what a fine Ranger he would make and informing him that he wasn’t putting him through? It was insane. It made no sense at all!

“You take unnecessary risks,” Velan continued. Whether he was aware of the pounding shock and rage going through Kitai’s head was unknown to Kitai. In fact, it wouldn’t have mattered even if he had known. Velan had a point of view, and he was going to make it clear. “You are emotionally unpredictable. You have improper threat assessment, and you confuse courage with recklessness, which at the end of the day is just a far more dangerous way of being scared. You may, of course, try again next year.”

Try again next year?! Spend another year’s worth of his time taking the same courses, the same preliminary tests, so he could wind up failing again? This makes no sense! It’s ridiculous! How can—?

Kitai’s inner turmoil was, of course, of no relevance to Velan. Having delivered the news that had just destroyed Kitai’s day and possibly his entire life, the commander simply said, “Dismissed.” With a casual sweep of his hand, he pushed the holographic file with Kitai’s information out of his view and swung the next one out so that he could inspect it. He wasn’t even bothering to look at Kitai anymore. He had pushed Kitai’s information and achievements and life casually aside and moved on to the next cadet.