After Earth (5 page)

He held it out, but I just stared at it in awe. General Cypher Raige's cutlass, the most advanced one ever made. “Go on. Take it. It's the C-40. The full twenty-two configurations.” If I had passed my Ranger exam, I would've only gotten a C-10—like my sister's. Only advanced Rangers were cleared to access that many weaponry options. His cutlass could transform into basically any weapon I could imagine.

I accepted his cutlass, noticing how big it looked in my thirteen-year-old hands, how much heavier it felt than any of the others I had held. I locked eyes with my father, not ready to turn away. We both knew this might be the last time we ever saw each other. The knowledge made me wish even more that we hadn't spent so much of my childhood apart. But there was no point in thinking about that now. All I could do was complete my mission so we could both have a second chance.

“This is not training,” Dad reminded me, as if I weren't completely aware. “The threats you will be facing are real. Every single decision you make will be life or death. This is a Class-One Quarantined planet. Everything on this planet has evolved to kill humans.” I looked at him in surprise, and he asked, “Do you know where we are?”

“No, sir,” I replied.

“This is Earth, Kitai.”

But how could we have ended up back here, when humans hadn't been near Earth since we left it over one thousand years ago? Out of everywhere in the whole universe, why did we have to land on the one planet that had turned on us and nearly killed us all? It seemed like a cruel joke.

The worst part, though, was knowing that the Ursa was out there somewhere. I shivered at the thought of it waiting for me. It had my scent, after all. I was the human it would hunt to the death, if it had survived the crash, if it had escaped. “The Ursa?” I said, and my dad understood exactly how terrified I was.

Cool as ever, my dad replied, “There are three possibilities. The first and most likely is that it died in the crash.” I nodded, comforted by his words. He continued, “The second and less likely is that it is injured very badly and still contained. And the third and least likely is that it is out.” He spoke with a calm certainty that steadied me, but I knew better than to simply hope for the best. My dad gave voice to that thought too. “We will proceed, however, in anticipation of the worst-case scenario. Every movement will be under protocol: escape and evade. If it is out there, I will see it long before it gets anywhere near you. Don't get ahead of yourself. Do everything that I say and we will survive.”

I rushed forward and wrapped my dad in a hug. His shoulders were so broad, I could barely get my arms around them, but it didn't matter. He hugged me back, for what seemed like forever. This was the hug I had hoped for back at our apartment. Too bad it took almost dying to bring us closer.

Finally he said, “Time's wasting. And we've got a lot to do.” I forced myself to pull away, doing my best to stand up straight and strong as I snapped my cutlass onto my backpack. “I estimate H plus four days to reach the tail,” he told me. “Use your naviband. Stay on the trajectory I've plotted. The temperatures on this planet fluctuate dramatically daily and most of the planet freezes over at night. There are hot spots, geothermal nodes between here and the tail, that will keep you warm during the freeze-over. You must reach one of these nodes each evening before nightfall.”

I gave him one last look before I managed a weak military pivot and left the cockpit.

//////// ENTRY 7

M
y training gave me a way through the fear. The key was to break things down into manageable steps. At least, in theory. I activated my naviband and asked, “Can you hear me, Dad? Over.”

“Copy.” His voice was clear and strong over the communicator. I drew strength from the sound of it.

Staring into the shadows outside the shelter of the ship, I pulled out the cutlass. It was the best tool I had, and I figured I would need to keep it ready. I tapped a combination on the handle, and it slid into a curved blade that nearly sliced into my lifesuit. Not the right combination, obviously. I only knew the basic configurations that Cadets use in training exercises. I had tried picking up some of the others from watching the Rangers, but clearly I hadn't gotten it exactly right. After I retracted the blade, I tried another pattern, and it extended to its full two-meter length, with razor-sharp ends. At least this configuration I knew.

Stepping out, I heard the sound of small stones falling in the cavern beyond. I drew a deep breath as the ship's doors ground closed behind me, then leapt down. The sight of Rangers dangling from their harnesses at the torn edge of the ship made me jump back. I stumbled, feeling like I might hyperventilate again. For just a second, I'd thought I could actually do this. But not one step outside of the ship and I was already losing it. This was never going to work.

Dad must have seen the spike on my vitals monitor because he said, “Kitai, take a knee.”

This again. When I was little, any time Senshi or I got upset, our dad always told us to take a knee. It was his go-to method for calming us down. My sister had seemed okay with it, but I always felt like it was a waste of time. But now, I felt so out of control that it was a relief to drop to my knee.

“I want you to take your time,” he told me. “Acclimate yourself to the environment. Tell me any and everything. No matter how inconsequential it may seem. Everything you see, hear, smell, how you feel. Over.”

Once again, hearing his voice made me feel better. Looking up, I saw a patch of daylight above me. “My body feels heavier,” I said.

“Very good,” Dad replied. “The gravitational pull on this planet is slightly different than at home.”

That was a relief. I was thinking there was something wrong with me, some injury we had missed on the ship. Or that now that I was faced with a real mission, I was freezing up, nowhere near as ready as I had assumed back home.

I reminded myself to stop freaking out and deal with the small steps that would eventually carry me to my goal. Looking up, I saw it was about sixty meters to the top of the ravine. Dad told me to get going. “Roger,” I agreed. Enough messing around. I couldn't afford to give in to my fear, not this time. Not with both our lives on the line.

I began climbing the wall of the ravine, carefully searching out hand- and footholds. No problem—standard rock-climbing. I was good at this. Near the top, I glanced at my right hand to see a huge spider perched on it. I screamed, flinging it from my hand. Losing my balance, I slipped before catching myself with my left hand.

“Kitai! What happened?” my dad shouted. I heard the worry in his voice and felt ridiculous. I hated spiders, that was all. Maybe because with all those creepy-crawly legs, they reminded me of tiny Ursa.

Stabilizing myself, I asked, “You didn't see that? I thought—”

But he interrupted. “What's your situation report? Your vitals spiked.”

That was when it hit me that despite what he'd said, I really was alone out here. It wasn't like having him with me. He wasn't able to see more than I could, as he'd promised. This mission's failure or success was completely on my back.

So I snapped myself back into control. “No change,” I replied. “I slipped. I'm good to go. There's condensation on the stones. I'm fine.” I lied without hesitation, and he didn't call me on it. Proving once again that he wasn't the all-powerful Commander General I had always imagined.

I finished my climb to the top, pulling myself onto an elevated plateau. Despite the exhaustion that was already dragging me down, I was blown away by the view spread out below me. The sky was streaked with the purple, orange, and pink of sunrise. Eagles soared overhead, and hundreds of buffalo roamed below. The animals' calls rang through the air. We had some of these creatures on Nova Prime, but others hadn't survived there—those I only knew from history books, though they had clearly evolved since we'd been gone. I had always thought of Earth as a wasteland that we fled when it could no longer support life. Yet here it was, full of vibrant colors, scents, and sounds. I guess humans really were the problem. Without us, the planet appeared to have healed itself.

While I soaked up the view, my dad was planning my route. “There is an escarpment where two Earth continents collided. Looks like it could be a waterfall. It's at about forty-five kilometers. We'll call that our midway checkpoint. There's no way you can return after that. We'll assess rations and reevaluate when you get there. But let's break it into sections. First leg is twenty kilometers to the mouth of the north forest.” Which reminded me that although I was technically out here alone, I was still lucky to have my dad there to oversee the mission. No way could I have come up with a plan like that. I memorized his instructions, since I knew my life would probably depend on them.

Glancing at my naviband, I saw that my holographic map also reflected what he had said. “Let's take it easy. Set chronometer for one hundred eighty minutes.”

I didn't see the point to taking it
that
easy, though. And yeah, I wanted to show him what I could do. “One hundred eighty minutes? That's not right. I can do ten K in fifty minutes. You'll see.” After checking my map, I started a light jog in the direction Dad had chosen. It felt so good to be running again that I added, “I might even do it in under forty minutes.”

When he didn't answer, I slowed down, worried that something had gone wrong back at the ship. “Dad, do you copy?” More silence. I stopped, my concern growing. I knew how badly he was hurt. What if he had passed out, or worse? “Dad, do you read me? Over.” Again, nothing. Now I was panicking. How was I supposed to do this without him? I couldn't. It was impossible. “Dad, do you copy? Are you there?” I was shouting now, desperate for some response. “Dad, I'm coming back,” I called, already running back toward the ship.

“No need,” my dad replied, his tone cool. “You just go ahead.”

I slid to a stop, relieved but confused. “Huh?”

“Seems to me that you're in charge of this mission. And in my limited military experience, when two people are in command, everybody dies. So I will defer to your leadership, Cadet.” He didn't sound mad, but I knew I was in trouble.

“Dad, I was just saying—” I protested, but he cut me off.

“What is my name?” he demanded. I stayed silent, unsure of what he wanted from me.

“What is my name?” he repeated, louder this time.

Shaken by his sudden fury, I replied, “General Cypher Raige.”

“And who am I?” he asked.

“Commander General of the Rangers.” My voice was barely above a whisper.

“That is correct!” he shouted. “And from this second forward, you will refer to me as ‘Sir,' ‘Commander,' or ‘General'! You will follow my every command without question or hesitation. Am I crystal clear, Cadet?”

I had never heard my dad lose his cool before. I snapped to attention and barked, “Sir, yes sir!”

His voice even again, he responded, “Now at H plus one-eighty I need you at that forest. Set your chronometer.”

“Sir, yes sir!” I set my chronometer and began to walk. Striding along a ridge, I looked over green fields that seemed to go on forever and a valley covered with wildflowers. Despite everything, it was pretty amazing to be here on this planet.

I would stay on his route now. I had wanted to go faster, to try to get him help sooner. But I really hadn't been trying to subvert his command. I didn't understand why he had reacted like that, except maybe that he wasn't used to anyone contradicting him ever. Or he just wanted to put me in my place, remind me that I'm just a kid. Or he was frustrated, trapped back there on that ship while I was out here, taking all the real risks. But I knew now that I'd better not step out of line again. Not for a while at least. And not with him.

Since I'm alone out here, I figure I might as well try to get some of this recorded. It is my first mission, after all. Hopefully the first of many. Or if everything goes sideways, maybe it will be a record someone finds someday, to tell them what became of Earth—and of me.

As I watch clouds sweeping over the mountains and fields around me, my dad—I mean,
the Commander
General
—says, “Standard operating procedure till I give you further instructions.”

“Copy.” It would've been nice to have a dad I could actually talk to on the other end of the line, just to pass the time if nothing else. Sure, I'm lucky to have access to his military knowledge and experience. If anyone can help me survive this, it's him—I know that. But why couldn't he be awesome at his job
and
a decent father? He was to Senshi. But he never has been to me.

So there's nothing to do but run to blot out the pain of the distance from my father, and the feeling that he doesn't even want to know me. I'm not going anywhere near as fast as I could, since I know he doesn't want me to, but the steady rhythm of my feet pounding the ground calms me. Adjusting my stride to adapt to the changing terrain, I chant to myself, “Who wasn't advanced to Ranger? Watch him go! Watch him go!”

My thoughts wander to my first memory, back when I was only three. I was marching around our old apartment in my pajamas and my dad's huge boots, struggling to hold his cutlass. My sister must have been off at Ranger training already.

“Those lines are tight, son,” Dad told me, and I felt pride and happiness like I have never felt since. My smile on the video my mom made is blinding. I ran over and hugged my dad, feeling incredibly safe and warm.

“And now it's time for one junior officer to head off to bed,” he said.

“Noooo,” I protested in my little-kid whine.

“That's a direct order from a superior officer, son.” At that, I straightened up and gave him a salute. Dad leaned down, his face serious as he said, “We never disobey an order. Not at home, not when deployed.”

“Yes, sir!” I agreed.

“And give your mother a kiss, tell her you love her.” As I did, I heard him say to her, “One day, I'm just going to be known as ‘Kitai's dad.'” He sounded so proud.

I've thought about that memory over and over again. It's the best proof I have that he used to believe in me, used to think that one day, I would be greater even than him. I remember being in that moment, feeling so grown-up carrying my dad's cutlass, yet so aware of what big boots I had to fill. And so confident that I could do it, one day.

But living in the past doesn't do any good. Maybe this shipwreck, horrible as it was, has finally given me another chance at a relationship with my dad. After a while I ask, “Hey, Dad, you there?” just to hear his voice again.

It takes him a moment to answer. I thought I'd done something wrong again, but I guess he was just checking our plan. “Cadet, the Earth's rotational cycle is shorter than back home. You have six hours to reach the first geothermal site.”

“Roger.” Making my way along a jagged fissure in the ground, I see rocks jutting up toward me from the darkness below. It looks like a giant reached down and cracked the ground open like a giant egg.

“Let's stay in the shade as much as possible,” my dad adds. “Direct sunlight is intensely carcinogenic. You must limit exposure.” I'd thought the sun felt really intense, but with this info, I darted to a patch of shade.

“The rain used to be acidic, but it doesn't seem to be a problem now.” That was a relief, at least. The sun could kill me, but the rain probably wouldn't.

Making good progress, I soon reach the edge of the forest. I see trees spilling over seemingly endless valleys. “Twenty kilometers, one hundred eighty-four minutes. Request breather, Da—I mean, sir.”

I'm surprised when he replies, “Negative. You've got three hours to reach the hot spot. That's plenty of time. Hydrate now and keep moving.” It's not like I need a break—I just wanted to check out the view for a little while longer, since I have plenty of time.

But he must have his reasons, and he made it clear it's not my place to question him. That doesn't mean I have to like it, but I swallow my annoyance and do as I was told. I flip open a hydration tube and drink it down as I enter the forest.

 

 

The trees are insane. Ninety meters high, six meters in diameter—unbelievably big. I make my way carefully through the shadowy forest, peering into the foliage that surrounds me. But suddenly, I see that my lifesuit has turned jet black, its surface hardened and bumpy like armor.