by Peter David
Fine. Be that way. Kitai tried not to let his irritation get the better of him. Sure, the other cadets might not have been at all interested in offering him kudos for his achievement. But certainly the Ranger officers who were watching from a remote distance would have made note of it. They, at least, would understand: It wasn’t enough that Kitai simply passed the course and was designated a Ranger. He had to be the best, and they undoubtedly knew why.
So what if the other cadets were unwilling to care about that? He cared. The Rangers who were judging him would care, too. In the end, that was all he really needed to worry about.
Once the Ranger cadets had a few minutes to gather themselves and recuperate from the run, the Ranger Instructors—RIs, as they were called—gathered them and marched them to a canyon about a mile away. Kitai noticed that a number of the Ranger cadets were chatting with one another intermittently. No one, however, seemed the least bit interested in chatting with him.
Okay, fine. That’s how they want to play it? That’s how we’ll play it.
As they approached the canyon, Kitai could spot RIs at the top. They had small, multiple layered devices in front of them that were giving individual readouts on each of the Rangers. Kitai knew exactly what they were for. They tracked fear levels, because the Rangers were about to be attacked there, down in the twists and turns of the canyon below. The readouts would provide exact details of their reactions, an overall score that would be called the fear prospectus.
Fear was the thing over which Rangers were supposed to triumph. Fear was the weakness that could wind up getting a Ranger killed. And they all knew why.
It was because the Ursa were sensitive to fear in their prey. They could smell it.
Over the last few hundred years the Skrel had put a half dozen or so different generations of Ursa up against humanity, and the most recent incarnations of the creatures had been the most formidable that humans had ever faced. Six-legged monsters they were, with huge maws full of teeth, not to mention the ability to blend in so perfectly with their backgrounds that they were practically invisible.
But it was their ability to smell the pheromones that denote fear, to lock on with unswerving concentration, that made them the deadliest of creatures.
So there was no ability more valuable to a Ranger than the mastery of one’s fear. More important than skill with the cutlass, more important than just about anything. That was why Kitai was determined to nail this part of the testing. This, more than anything, was going to determine his relative viability as a Ranger, and there was no way in hell he was going to screw it up.
The Rangers gathered at the entrance to the valley. Some were glancing up toward the RIs who were going to be monitoring them. Kitai was not. He’d already seen them and had buried that knowledge deep in the back of his mind. The presence of the RIs was no longer of any consequence to him. Only the challenges they would be facing in the valley mattered.
“All right, cadets,” called an RI who was down in the valley with them. “Take your equipment.”
The equipment dispensary had been set up. The dispensary had only two things in it, with enough for every one of the cadets: a protective helmet and a practice cutlass. These cutlasses would not change shape. There were no blades on the cutlass; it was to be used strictly for practice combat. It didn’t necessarily mean that someone couldn’t be hurt by it, but it was a lot more difficult.
Kitai slid the helmet over his head. He held up his hand briefly, looking at it front and back to make sure that his vision wasn’t impaired. Looks okay.
As soon as all the cadets were properly outfitted, the RI who had spoken before addressed them again. “Cadets … enter the field of combat!” He pointed straight toward the entrance to the narrow field that ran between the cliff’s sides.
“Sir, yes, sir!” called out the cadets, and marched straight into the unknown.
If there had been any means by which the Rangers could have dropped one or more Ursa into the canyons without worrying about dead cadets, they would have done so. But even Rangers had their limits, and no one in any command capacity was going to put three dozen or so cadets into one-on-one combat situations with the most vicious killing machines on Nova Prime. There would be challenges awaiting Kitai and the others, but of a more human kind.
Kitai once again found himself in the middle of the pack as they made their way slowly through the valley. This, however, was more by his choice than anything else. His positioning meant that other cadets would be the first to be attacked, giving him more time to react. He looked around as if his head were on a swivel, trying to see potential hot spots all around him, certain that the testers had come up with something special for the cadets this time.
There!
He reacted before he even saw it clearly. From the corner of his eye, he had spotted a quick flash of light. Could be nothing, but much more likely, it was everything.
“Left, left!” he shouted, and charged straight toward where he had seen the flash of light. “I got it!”
“Cadet!” Bo shouted, clearly getting tired of what he considered to be Kitai’s attitude. “Fall back into formation!”
Kitai paid him no mind whatever. Instead he charged, and other cadets got the hell out of his way.
As it turned out, he was right in doing so.
An RI hiding behind an invisibility field shifted it so that he could be perceived. He had his staff out as Kitai leaped through the air, bringing his own cutlass whipping around.
The two practice staves cracked together in midair. The RI staggered from the impact as Kitai charged forward and slammed a foot into his gut. The instructor let out a startled gasp and bent over, which Kitai took as an opportunity to slam the side of his staff down into the back of his neck. The RI went down to one knee, which was something of an accomplishment. Another man might well have been sent sprawling.
Kitai leaped past him, spun around, and was ready to bring his practice cutlass slamming down as hard as he could.
Then he lost the visual.
For no reason that he could discern, Kitai suddenly couldn’t see a damned thing. A screen slid horizontally across his field of vision, blocking his ability to perceive the area around him.
“I’m dark, I’m dark!” Kitai shouted, and started to reach up to the helmet restraints so that he could pull the helmet clear of his head.
Before he could do so, the screen across his face retracted. Just like that, he could see, and what he saw in specific was the extremely irritated RI whipping his body toward him. Before Kitai could move or react, the RI flipped him over his back, Kitai landing hard on the ground.
Yet he was up just as quickly as he’d gone down. His vision restored, Kitai came in as fast as he ever had. He delivered a series of quick blows to the RI’s helmet and torso. But as rapid as his attack was, it paled in comparison to what a fully trained Ranger could do. The RI absorbed the blows, allowing Kitai to take his best shot. Then at one point he ducked backward, and Kitai missed clean. Before he could recover, the RI went low to the ground, sweeping Kitai’s legs from under him. Down went Kitai again.
“You’re out,” the RI informed him. “You’re out.”
Like hell I am.
Once again he started to stagger to his feet. He did it with less certainty than he had earlier, but there was still strength and determination in his deportment.
Unfortunately for Kitai, the patience of the RI had been exhausted.
As a result, before Kitai could fully bring himself upright again, the RI slammed his foot forward and caught him on the chin. Kitai let out a startled grunt as he hit the ground a third time, and this time he didn’t stand up. Not because he wasn’t trying; he most definitely was. But the RI, having tired of the battle with him, put his foot on Kitai’s neck. Even then, Kitai didn’t immediately give up, instead bringing his hands around to start prying at the foot.
“You! Are! Out!” The sound of the RI’s voice made it very clear that if Kitai continu
ed to battle him, he would increase the pressure of the foot on his throat. The best-case scenario would impede Kitai’s breathing. The worst-case scenario, depending on the RI’s mood—which didn’t seem especially generous at that moment—was that Kitai wouldn’t be able to breathe at all, ever again.
Worst of all, the rest of the team had gathered around, breaking formation as they were intrigued by the entertaining vision of Kitai struggling for air. For the first time Kitai was actually feeling self-conscious. He stopped struggling and put up both hands in a submissive fashion.
Even then, the RI was still obviously pissed off over Kitai’s aggressiveness. He glanced around at the rest of the cadets and said sharply, “All of you! Out!”
Just like that, the exercise was over. The rest of the cadets headed out toward the next one, removing their helmets as they did so. All of them relaxed, chatting with one another. No one bothered to speak to Kitai or even help him up. Bo gave him a single annoyed glance and then shook his head.
Kitai sat up, rubbed his throat, and coughed a few times. It restored his breath as he got to his feet, and then he set out after the others. They continued to ignore him. He continued to be convinced that they were jealous of his aggressiveness and determination. Well, that was fine. The bottom line was that the people in charge would know who and what they were dealing with. They would see his abilities for what they were and praise him accordingly.
In the end, that was all that mattered.
iii
The rock face was a pleasant diversion for Bo.
He’d climbed this particular obstacle a number of times in the past and was utterly confident in his ability to handle it without a problem. The thing towered nearly two hundred meters in the air, but Bo knew the best way up and was certain that no one in the troop could cover it as quickly or with as much assurance as he did.
And “no one” most definitely included Kitai Raige.
Bo didn’t have any strong feelings against Raige. In point of fact, deep down he actually kind of admired the kid. Not that he would admit it, of course. That simply wasn’t how it was done. But there was a great deal to admire about Kitai Raige in terms of how he handled himself and his determination to be first at everything.
With any luck, Kitai would outgrow that mind-set. Surviving as a member of the Rangers was about so much more than who finished first and second. Surviving meant getting through to the end of the day and still being in one piece. Over time, Kitai would learn that and potentially be a valuable member of the Corps.
Assuming they let him into the Corps, of course. That was by no means certain. Not if Kitai kept having the mini-breakdowns that he was experiencing during these tests.
Well, that was Kitai’s problem, not Bo’s. Bo, for his part, had to focus on the rock wall.
The harness around his chest provided the additional support and certainty required for climbing something such as this. It was secured into ropes that had been set into the wall ages ago. It wasn’t as if Bo really felt he needed them. But they were there and they offered security, so why the hell shouldn’t he take advantage of them?
Suddenly he heard something coming up below him, moving much more quickly than he would have thought. Given the speed at which he was moving, it was hard for him to think who could possibly be catching up with him.
He looked down and could actually feel his heart tightening in his chest.
It was Kitai. Of course it was Kitai. Even more alarming, he was free climbing. Ignoring the drop that awaited him if he lost his grip, Kitai was practically sprinting up the rock face.
“Cadet!” Bo shouted down to him. “Click into harness!”
Kitai was gaining on him. “Slows me down!” he shot back.
Bo tried to redouble his efforts, but it was no use. Kitai shot right past him. It was nothing short of astounding to Bo. Moments earlier he had been in the lead; now he was behind Kitai and fading fast. Even the part of him that warned against worrying about such things as finishing first was losing its dominance. His inner frustration and sense of pride drove him to try to pick up the pace so he could overtake Kitai once more.
It didn’t happen, didn’t even come close.
Instead he watched.
Kitai had reached a point near the very top of the peak. He was on a six-centimeter ledge just below with a face that tilted out by more than ninety degrees into space. That should have caused some hesitation on Kitai’s part. He was, after all, facing every climber’s greatest fear: commitment to the void. Usually such a move required one to take long moments to prepare oneself.
Not Kitai. Without the slightest hesitation, he swung himself out, dangling almost two hundred meters above the canyon below. Having insufficient speed for his first arc, he swung back and forth again and then a third time. The third one did the job, providing enough momentum for him to throw himself up and over and land atop the ridge upside down.
Quickly he scrambled up and around so that he was standing properly on the top of the ridge. He stood there with his arms spread wide, and Bo could distantly hear something. It took him a few moments to realize what it was. Kitai was making aaaahhhhh sounds as if a vast audience were watching him and cheering his achievements.
Oh, that little punk, Bo thought as he clambered the rest of the way.
Kitai was still making the noises of a thrilled crowd when Bo finally joined him atop the ledge. “That was stupid,” Bo informed him, although he was certain that Kitai wouldn’t give a damn what he had to say.
He turned out to be quite correct. “They don’t give statues for being scared.”
“Yeah, but they do give plenty of headstones for being dead!”
Kitai simply grinned as he clipped himself into a futuristic zip line. Bo morbidly wondered whether Kitai might, upon reconsideration, simply toss aside the zip line and just throw himself off the top of the ridge on the assumption that somehow he would float down on waves of his own greatness.
He was destined to be disappointed, because Kitai finished clipping himself in before leaping off the ridge. The zip line drew taut, and Kitai was off on his buzz toward the ground far below. Bo clipped onto the line and leaped off as well.
As they descended toward the ground, Bo couldn’t help noticing all the sights of Nova Prime spread out before him: undulating structures in the canyon, windmill towers and waterwheels making use of the environmentally sound energies that Nova Prime provided them. In the distance there were ships ready to take off, heading toward any number of destinations within the solar system and beyond.
Not bad. Considering we arrived here centuries ago with the contents of the arks and that was all, this is definitely not bad. An appreciable testimony to the cleverness of humanity.
From below him, he heard Kitai giving out a loud war whoop that celebrated nothing else but the speed with which he was heading toward the ground.
Kid never pays attention to anything around him, and he doesn’t even realize it. That’s going to cost him. Cost him a lot.
Over the remaining twenty minutes, the rest of the Ranger cadets, one by one, came sliding down the zip line. It was the last endeavor of the day, and Bo knew that the next day, the results would be delivered. He was feeling fairly confident that he would score high enough to move on. And he had faith in 80 percent of the other cadets.
He just couldn’t make his mind up about Kitai.
As the remaining Rangers gathered, Kitai made no effort to approach any of them. He stayed off to the side, stretching and then doing push-ups. Bo simply shook his head. He couldn’t recall seeing anyone quite like Kitai Raige before. It made him wonder if Kitai’s father had been anything like this when he was Kitai’s age. He almost asked but then remembered that Kitai wasn’t much for talking about his father except in the most reverent terms, and so an honest discussion about what his father was like seemed to be out of the question.
Kitai finished his push-ups and then, without sitting up, flopped back against a small rocky
projection. His breathing was completely under control. Then, with a wry smile, he tossed off a salute toward Bo. “Sorry about buzzing past you back there,” he said, and pointed in the direction of the ridge. “Sometimes I get a little …” He shrugged, apparently unable to come up with the appropriate word to describe his behavior.
Obsessive? Competitive? Nuts?
Since none of the words Bo was coming up with seemed any better, he just shrugged. “Don’t worry about it.”
Kitai leaned forward, ready to talk business again. “You think everyone passed the VR?”
The VR was the Ventax Reactor test developed by Doctor Abigail Ventax decades earlier. It sensed degrees of fear that human beings experienced under conditions such as the tests the cadets had undergone. The would-be Rangers had been monitored scrupulously the entire time.
“Everyone?” Bo snorted derisively at the notion. “Try ‘anyone’ and I’m pretty sure the answer is no.”
Kitai stared at Bo in shock. “Wait. You didn’t?”
Shaking his head, Bo said with a clear air of disgust and discomfort, “Spiders.”
It had been during one of their high-speed chases through a cave. Everything had been going fine right up until Bo had charged through what turned out to be an entire mass of spiderwebs. He’d let out a startled gasp, which had only succeeded in making him inhale one of the webs. Then he had spent thirty seconds coughing violently to expel it from his lungs.
“I hate spiders,” he admitted, and by coincidence, Kitai said the exact same thing at the exact same time. They looked at each other in mild surprise. Then they bumped elbows in a sign of camaraderie. It was an odd feeling for Bo, and he suspected that it felt the same for Kitai.
But hey … spiders. What could you do about spiders? “What was the point of spiders? What function?” Bo asked.
The arks that had carried humanity to Nova Prime had transported genetic samples of every species on Earth. Couldn’t they have left out the arachnid family?
