Hunted - After Earth

by Peter David

  And he hadn’t cared.

  The only one he’d ever cared about was Ronna, and eventually that same expression had been on her face as well. It didn’t matter what the Ursa did to him; he was already dead, killed by that disappointed look.

  Nothing matters without her. And I don’t matter; she made that clear.

  The Ursa slowly approached him, but it looked confused, as if—without the guidance of his voice—it couldn’t tell where he was. Its foul breath washed over Daniel, and it was all he could do not to choke or gag or make some other sound that would surely pinpoint his presence for the Ursa.

  Despite his indifference to his fate, Daniel couldn’t help but be intrigued by what was happening. He was there, right there, in front of the Ursa, yet it seemed unable to zero in on him. Daniel held his breath, not for fear of being discovered and killed, but out of curiosity as to how long he could elude detection simply by doing nothing at all.

  He had no idea how much time passed as they just stood there, predator and prey. The Ursa seemed confused and frustrated, certain there was something there but unable to figure out where it was.

  Daniel realized he was still holding his pulser rifle in his right hand. He’d seen close-up how useless the weapon was against the Ursa. No wonder the Rangers used a techno-bladed weapon called a cutlass: The techno-filaments were so sharp that it was claimed a Ranger wielding this weapon could cut off your arm even if his thrust missed; supposedly the wind from the miss alone would get the job done. Daniel doubted this was true, but he knew from what he’d observed firsthand that pulsers did nothing against the creatures, while the pulser-less Rangers had many kills under their belts, so they must be doing something right.

  Very slowly, just to see what would happen, Daniel leaned left, then right. The Ursa made no corresponding reaction. My God, it really can’t see me. At all. Emboldened, he cocked the triggering mechanism of the pulser and then lobbed the ineffective weapon to his right. It landed ten feet away and, upon impact, went off.

  Instantly the Ursa lunged toward the rifle, landing squarely upon it with its huge, taloned paws. Rather than try to depart the area, Daniel remained where he was, watching the Ursa with something that seemed utterly inappropriate to the situation: amusement.

  Suddenly the Ursa’s head snapped up. It let out a furious roar and for an instant Daniel wondered if somehow it had perceived him.

  And then the entire clearing was alive with activity. It was a squad of Rangers, coming in from all sides, including one who leaped directly in front of Daniel, shoving him off his feet. “Get down!” ordered the Ranger.

  “You get down! I was fine!” Daniel snapped at him, but nevertheless he remained on the ground. An Ursa he could handle; Rangers were officious jerks. No point in antagonizing them.

  The Rangers converged on the Ursa, cutlasses at the ready. The Ursa didn’t know which way to “look” first, its head snapping left and right. The Rangers moved with a fluidity that impressed even the cynical Daniel. They slashed, jabbed, attacked, and then retreated while others moved in to take their place. Daniel remembered, in one of the many courses he’d ultimately failed, reading about prehistoric humankind back on Earth, when hunting parties of men would assault creatures many times their size using their spears and their sheer numbers to accomplish their goal. Daniel suspected that it was much like this: attacking from many directions, then pulling back, and then assaulting their prey once more so that the animal wasted its energy defending the feints while being wounded by the strikes that did land.

  A dozen seeping wounds had appeared all over the Ursa’s hide. It tried to disappear, to hide behind its camouflage, but the Rangers would have none of it, anticipating its path and striking even though they were only approximating where it was. Yet somehow they managed to hit home with their attacks.

  Finally the creature let out a roar so thunderous that the ground under Daniel’s feet seemed to shake. Then, gathering the power in its haunches, the Ursa leaped straight up, high over their heads, its trajectory carrying it deep into the brush. Seconds later it was gone.

  “Secure the perimeter,” said the Ranger who appeared to be in charge. “Make sure no other damned fools decide that hunting an Ursa is a game for amateurs.” With this comment, he looked disdainfully at Daniel.

  “Don’t glare at me, big man,” Daniel replied laconically. “I was just the hired help. This wasn’t my party.”

  “Then whose?”

  “Ryerson.”

  “Sigmund Ryerson?”

  “The very same.”

  “He’s under arrest, then. Where is he?”

  “There,” said Daniel, nodding in one direction, and then gesturing in the other, “and there.”

  The Rangers saw on opposite sides of the clearing the regurgitated remains of Ryerson’s upper half and what was left of his lower half. Several wrinkled their faces in disgust.

  The officer stared at him for a long time. Then he turned to his subordinates and said, “Call in a detail to clean up this mess. And have him”—he pointed to Daniel—“brought to my office.”

  “Sir, yes sir,” they chorused.

  Office? Why his office? If they’re going to arrest me, why not just clap me in jail and then schedule an appearance before a magistrate? An office makes it sound as if we have something to talk about. What could we possibly have to talk about?

  V

  “You’re a Ghost.”

  The ranking officer who had told his people to bring Daniel to his office had introduced himself as Captain Freed. He had black hair that was graying at the temples, and the air of someone who looked older than he was. Daniel had chosen to remain standing when Freed had entered and, despite Freed’s invitation to do so, Daniel had declined to sit. Freed shrugged when Daniel stayed on his feet, and then went around to the far side of his desk and sat. Daniel considered this a small triumph for some reason. He was standing, Freed was sitting. Freed was in a subordinate position to him. I win. It was a small, petty victory, but Daniel took whatever victories he could get. He felt smug and in charge, right up until Freed came at him with this total non sequitur, at which point Daniel just stared at him in confusion.

  “I’m a what?”

  “A Ghost,” Freed repeated.

  “Well, obviously I’m not, since I’m still alive.” Daniel spoke slowly, syllable for syllable, as if addressing an idiot.

  Freed didn’t appear to appreciate the tone, but he pushed past it. “Do you know how Ursa track their victims?”

  “Since they don’t have eyes, you mean? I’ve read that they have a powerful sense of smell, and that guides them.”

  “That’s more or less correct,” said Freed, tilting his chair back while steepling his fingers. “But if that’s the case, why didn’t the Ursa catch your scent and attack?”

  Daniel shrugged. He really hadn’t given it any thought.

  “In the case of their prey, Ursa smell the release of pheromones generated by fear. They home in on fear and destroy the source. If, on the other hand, you can completely control your fear—or if you literally have no fear, for that matter—then you can effectively be invisible to an Ursa. It won’t be able to perceive you. You’ll be like—”

  “A ghost.”

  “Exactly. It’s a very rare ability. Our Rangers are as brave as humans can be, but to be able to disconnect from fear … it’s a rare gift. And it’s obvious that for whatever reason—temperament, happenstance, or simply the way your brain is wired—you possess it.”

  Despite his general distaste for the Rangers, Daniel found himself intrigued by what the captain was telling him. “Yeah? And just out of curiosity, exactly how many people have this gift?”

  “Counting you?”

  “Sure.”

  “Two.”

  Let it be a girl. Let her be gorgeous. Please tell me I have to breed with her to produce a race of fearless baby Rangers. “Who’s the other?”

  “A Ranger named Cypher Raige.”
r />   “Cypher?” Daniel looked skeptically at Freed. “What the hell kind of name is Cypher?”

  “Well, I suggest next time you see him, you ask him that, and when he pushes your teeth down the back of your throat, you’ll have your answer.”

  He. Dammit. “Is he around?”

  “He’s patrolling the southern quadrant at the moment. Heavy Ursa infestation there. As many Rangers as we have, we’re still spread thin, so we send people where we can. But to get back to the point, Mr. Silver: It’s obvious you can ghost. We saw it.”

  “You saw it?” Something suddenly occurred to him. “You mean the whole time that thing was up in my face, you were just watching to see what happened? Did you just stand by and watch Ryerson die, too?”

  For a moment, Freed looked less than comfortable. “We arrived too late to save him, but we got there in time to see you ghosting with the Ursa threatening you. I made the call to keep our forces back so that I could see whether you could sustain that status.”

  “And if I couldn’t?”

  “Then we’d have done our best to save you.”

  “So you risked my life without my even knowing it.”

  Freed’s voice became harsh. “No, you risked your life while knowing exactly what you were doing. It’s not the job of the Rangers to take responsibility for reckless decisions on the part of the citizenry. If you had died, you would have been just another dead citizen who thought that he knew better than the Rangers of Nova Prime. But if you survived, then you’d be someone who could be of tremendous service to your people. And that’s where we stand right now.”

  “Meaning—?”

  “Meaning I’m inviting you to become one of us, Mr. Silver. I’m giving you the opportunity to become a Ranger. I’ve taken the liberty of pulling your medical records …”

  “That stuff’s supposed to be private!”

  Freed smiled thinly and chuckled as if the notion of keeping secrets from the Rangers was quaint. He tapped his monitor screen. “You’re in perfect physical health. You have a good deal of stamina. You’re athletic. You are, in fact, an ideal Ranger candidate and I’m frankly surprised you haven’t enlisted before this.”

  “Who said I’m enlisting now?”

  “No one,” said Freed, spreading his hands wide. “I could point out, of course, that by ignoring a priority one Ranger directive you are in fact a criminal. You and your entire hunting party. The others are beyond Novan justice, but you aren’t.”

  “So if I don’t join up, you’ll prosecute me? Is that it?”

  Freed’s face was unreadable. Never play poker with this guy, thought Daniel.

  “No, Mr. Silver,” Freed finally said. “I won’t have anyone on the Rangers who isn’t dedicated to the cause and isn’t here of his own free will. And, trespassing aside, your main crime is stupidity. If we start arresting people for that, half the population will be in front of a magistrate. So you’re free to go home, Mr. Silver. Just for our records, where is home, by the way?”

  Daniel opened his mouth and then shut it again.

  “Yes, as I thought.” He actually sounded gentle, even understanding. “You know, Daniel, the streets can get cold at night. Very cold. There are public shelters, as you know, but they don’t always attract the best elements. So as homes go, you can do far worse than the Rangers. Will you think about it? At least promise me that in exchange for my not throwing your ass in a cell.”

  “Yeah. Sure. Fine. I’ll think about it,” said Daniel. “But just because I don’t have a home address listed, don’t think for a minute that I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

  “That’s good to know,” said Freed.

  He thought about it for exactly one night. A night when he walked through downtown, the winds whistling harshly through the canyons of the city. He saw the apartment buildings glowing softly against the darkness, imagined people going through their happy lives. Eating, drinking, smiling together. Lovers’ bodies entwined with each other. Children sitting at the feet of their parents, hearing stories about the past of Nova Prime.

  He wondered if Ronna had found someone new already. Hell, there was probably someone already lined up when she dumped him. She probably felt she had wasted enough of her life with him and couldn’t wait to move on.

  He took refuge for the night in Tucker’s firing range. He’d crashed there a few times, particularly when he’d gotten drunk at a bar—as happened from time to time—and wanted to get sobered up before Ronna saw him; she hated when he was drunk. It was after hours, but Daniel knew the lock’s combo and entered, closing the door firmly against the harsh winds.

  He sat there in the darkness for a time and then started running a holographic simulation. It involved a family having a picnic that was disrupted by incoming Skrel attack vessels. Daniel rigged it, putting it into a loop so that the Skrel never arrived. It was just the family—father, mother, son—locked into a pleasant outdoor meal, enjoying one another’s company, laughing and joking.

  It was completely artificial, and yet it was more than Daniel had ever known.

  Daniel Silver had never felt more alone in his life than he had at that moment.

  The next morning Captain Freed arrived at his office to find Daniel waiting for him.

  “I still think you’re all a bunch of idiots,” said Daniel without preamble, “but I’m starting to think that I am, too. So maybe I’ll fit right in.”

  “Believe it or not, I’ve heard worse reasons to join the corps.” Freed put out a hand and Daniel shook it reluctantly but firmly. “Welcome to the Rangers.”

  VI

  The recorded sounds of trumpets flared across the sky, and Captain Green was reading out the list of names of those who had graduated Ranger training with honors. The loudest applause, however, came for Daniel Silver as he stood resplendent in the white uniform denoting his status as Ghost.

  Captain Freed had handed him his cutlass as Green continued to intone the names of the graduates. Daniel snapped off a sharp salute in response. It was impressive that he was receiving so much of an ovation, considering he had no outside friends or family there. The corps was where all his friends were. The corps was his family.

  Before Daniel could step farther down the line, Freed leaned forward and said to him softly, “Fastest trainee in the history of the Rangers. You should be very proud.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Your parents should also be proud.”

  “I’m sure they are.”

  Freed glanced toward the stands. “Are they here?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Why not?”

  “They think I’m a bum, sir.”

  “Do they.” He paused and then said, “Silver … I can’t account for the man you might have been. But I know the man you are now. The one who, as a Ghost, has been monitored over every step of his progress. Your evaluations indicate the same thing: You started off slowly, but as time passed, your interest in helping your fellow cadets developed very quickly and very naturally. You moved in natural formation, and your desire to protect others in your squad was instinctive. The general consensus is that you see the others, not as your fellow Rangers, but as your family. Feel free to correct me if I’m wrong.”

  “You’re … not wrong, sir,” said Daniel, his voice husky.

  “I never am,” said Freed. And he tossed off a brisk salute that Daniel, displaying some confusion, returned.

  Minutes later he was standing alone, whipping the cutlass back and forth. He felt a swell of emotion: He had worked toward something and now he was holding it in his hand. He’d accomplished his goal; the cutlass was the proof of that. It created a vicious arc in the air as he snapped it around with expert dexterity. He looked at it with pride.

  With accomplishment.

  With naked fear.

  I’m a fraud, he thought.

  He thought of all the times on the obstacle course as he pushed his body to do more than it ever had before. He pounded across it leaping, jum
ping, and scrambling, avoiding or dealing with anything that they threw at him. With every new challenge that he met, he felt a surging rise of confidence in the things his body was capable of doing.

  Fraud.

  He took classes in self-defense, in combat, in survival. He further honed his mind and body, faced off against his fellow cadets in sparring duels, each of them wielding practice cutlasses. Daniel took to the practice as naturally as an infant did to breathing: All he’d needed was that initial slap on the behind and then he was doing it as well as anyone and better than most. His mastery of the cutlass, once he had been drilled in the basic moves, was absolute. Long after other cadets had gone lights-out, he would be outside, stripped to the waist and whipping the practice cutlasses around so fast they were nothing more than a blur. His muscle memory became so drilled into him that his reaction time was measurable in nanoseconds. To attack Daniel Silver was to court disaster, because you would have your practice cutlass knocked out of your hand and your back on the floor before you even knew what happened. “Absolutely deadly.” “Never make him angry.” That was what his fellow cadets would say about him.

  Fraud.

  He walked across the field, newly graduated, and people automatically bowed or saluted whenever they saw him. No, not him so much as the gleaming white uniform denoting his status.

  Fraud, fraud, fraud.

  When he’d first undergone his psych evaluation, he had been entirely candid with them. He had told them flatly that he’d had no trouble ghosting because he was indifferent to whether the Ursa attacked him or not. He was worried this would disqualify him or be perceived as suicidal. Instead the conclusion drawn was that he was simply supremely confident, like an old Earth matador or animal trainer. Subsequent testing determined, to the satisfaction of the doctors, that—if nothing else—Daniel Silver did care if others lived or died. Were he in a situation where other Rangers were depending on him to save their lives, then he could be counted on to get the job done.