by Peter David
“Sir”—his voice was barely above a whisper—“my father is returning home tonight. Today’s a special day for our family. I haven’t seen him … and I have to be able to tell him that I have advanced to Phase 2. I’ve got to be able to tell him that I am a Ranger, sir.”
Velan’s face didn’t move a centimeter. He simply stared at him for what seemed the longest few moments of Kitai’s life. During those few seconds, it seemed to Kitai that anything was possible.
He was wrong, as it turned out.
“You tell your father that I said ‘Welcome home.’ ”
Kitai couldn’t believe it. How could Velan be doing this to him? He’d admitted that Kitai had everything it took to be a top Ranger. So he had some impulse-control problems. So what? If he moved on to Phase 2, certainly that was something that could be attended to at that point. Why deprive him of his move forward? What could he possibly—?
Velan’s eyebrows knit, and there was now a darkness in his eyes. He was clearly displeased over Kitai’s refusal to accept his decision, and his next words underscored it. “Your lessons in discipline begin right now. You may leave this room with dignity and decorum befitting a cadet. Or you may leave under escort. Your choice.”
For half a beat, Kitai actually considered the latter. Being dragged out shouting over the way he was being treated …
But that was as far as he got in his thoughts. If that was really how he exited the room, being hauled out by Ranger troopers, he was effectively finished. All anyone would spend the rest of the day talking about was “Did you hear? Kitai Raige was dragged out kicking and screaming because he didn’t have what it took. What a sap. What a fool.” He would be done. That was simply not a public image that he could reasonably walk back.
“Sir, yes, sir,” was all he said. Then he turned on his heel and walked out.
He emerged into the outer lobby to the questioning looks of the others. Then they noticed that he wasn’t carrying a C-10, and that answered the first of their questions. Before they could ask any others, or offer consolation, or perhaps even revel in his failure, Kitai was across the hall and in one of the elevators. The door slid shut, and it was only once he was alone and on his way upward that the barely withheld tears broke free of his mental barrier and rolled down his cheeks unfettered.
2065 AD
United Nations Headquarters, Manhattan
The sense of tension could be felt rising with every block as Skyler Raige II neared the United Nations’ thirty-nine-floor secretariat building on Manhattan’s East Side. People who normally walked fast in New York City were walking faster, their shoulders hunched, ignoring everyone around them. Their steps had purpose, but they also were radiating fear.
Raige noticed how many storefronts were boarded up; some that were open had signs indicating a list of items that were currently out of stock. Sanitation also seemed to be taking it easy as the spring breeze coming in from the river whipped debris into the air. There was an unpleasant odor, and he blinked a few times as grit tried to blind him.
The Ranger was uncertain why he had been summoned to the office of the United Nations’ secretary general, but he was a soldier and followed orders. His appointment was for ten-thirty in the morning, and Raige, spit-polished to perfection, had arrived from the United Ranger Corps base in Germany just hours earlier. He was tired and fueled solely by his third cup of coffee, but there was enough adrenaline pumping through his system to keep him alert for the impending conversation.
For the last nine years, he had served as a Ranger, seeing parts of the world he had only read about in school, never imagining he would be in Algiers, Sudan, Brazzaville, Portugal, and Germany in the same calendar year. His jacket was beginning to resemble a Michelin guidebook, and he regretted being able to see only the seedier parts of countries the guidebooks tended to omit. Still, he enjoyed sampling the local fare when time allowed; anything was better than the MREs, or Meals Ready to Eat, he was consuming en route to and from fronts.
He prided himself on his adaptability, adjusting from culture to culture with ease. Raige found himself making friends everywhere he went, playing endless rounds of soccer or stickball with the kids who usually flocked around the arriving Rangers, hoping for money or food or both. Rather than disappoint them, he shared his rations and played with them, cajoling many of the others to join in to even out the sides.
He commanded men and women into battle, which usually consisted of quelling food riots or protests against governments that were forced to ration as the planet suffered on many—too many—ecological fronts.
Now he’d been asked to meet with the secretary general. When he received the orders in Germany, his CO gave him a quizzical look, seemingly jealous, while everyone else razzed him about getting a trip home.
The summons concerned him, but he flushed the issue from his mind, taking in the decor. The place needed paint and a new carpet. In fact, for a prestigious office it was downright worn-out and in need of a massive overhaul. Still, there were larger issues to worry about and money was growing scarce as more and more resources were being poured into the ark programs. Construction was scheduled to begin in just a few months, and he suspected that was why he had been summoned: to discuss security procedures when work began in the Sahara. Still, he was just a sergeant; what made him so special?
A plump Asian aide stepped from behind a closed door and gestured for Raige to join him.
“Takeo Sato,” the man said, shaking Raige’s hand with a single pump. “We’re running a little late, but please come with me.”
Raige entered the larger office of the secretary general, which needed refurbishment, as did the rest of the place. Of course, Constantine Lider had other things to concern himself with, and he struck Raige as the kind of man who didn’t notice his surroundings. He had liked Lider’s strenuous efforts to take Project Next Generation’s recommendations and make them a reality, ramming some of the less popular decisions through the UN. Of course, he had the full might of the Security Council behind him, and there was plenty of arm-twisting and outright threatening to get everyone, down to the last rogue state, on board.
“May I get you a drink? Some tea, perhaps?”
“Just water will be fine,” Raige said. He was handed a chilled bottle from a well-concealed minifridge and appreciatively slaked his thirst. The rising global temperatures, coupled with the plane’s dry air, made him feel constantly thirsty. The cool liquid felt terrific going down and helped steady him.
Before he could chug the whole bottle, a side door opened and Lider strode in, his hand already outstretched. He had gone entirely gray since taking office and appeared to have lost weight without having his suits taken in, making him appear gaunt. He looked like a man in desperate need of a weekend away, not that he had the time for such an indulgence. There was a planet to save, after all. Still, there was plenty of life in his eyes and the grin was broad.
“So glad to meet you, Sergeant Major,” Lider said, his German accent clear.
“A pleasure,” Raige replied, shaking the large hand, noting the strength it still possessed.
“How is it in Germany?”
“Pretty much as you left it, sir,” Raige said. “They’re restless but recognize their options are increasingly limited.”
“I wish we could properly communicate that to the less educated of this world. There are still over two billion illiterate people, and they operate strictly by rumor and word of mouth. That’s the chief cause of the panic, I fear. I wish we could do more.”
Lider gestured them to comfortably appointed straight-backed chairs surrounding a small blond wood conference table. Atop it were tablets with maps already lit up, most showing hot spots in Europe. Raige sat and continued to wonder what he was doing there.
“Sergeant, the coming decade may well be the final one for all of us on Earth,” Lider said. His tone dropped from friendly to deadly serious. “We’re gathering the supplies we need to begin the largest constructio
n project ever undertaken. Everything we’re doing right now is on an unprecedented scale. In some cases, we have the material ready since it can be repurposed from one project to another. In other cases, we are still shorthanded, and that includes the Rangers.”
Raige knew that four years earlier Lider had ramped up recruitment, trying to reach the 1-million-man threshold sooner rather than later. They were still far short, but just about every able-bodied, soldier-worthy man and woman was being wooed to the Rangers. The promise of regular food and clothing was all the enticement some needed, whereas others wanted hard cash, refusing to believe it would soon be worthless. But Lider was right: The literacy and educational levels were a drag on training as remedial courses were added to the regimen, slowing down readiness for deployment.
“How are the troops?”
“I can’t speak for all of them, sir, but my squad in Germany is tired. We’ve been regularly deployed with barely seventy-two hours to rest and recharge.”
“Is burnout going to be a problem?”
“I think we need to schedule more R&R for the men,” Raige replied. He began to wonder where the questioning was going. Were things already so bad that they’d be pushed to the limit of endurance?
“Are you well armed enough?”
“It’s largely riot gear, which is designed for hard knocks. Thankfully, our rifles and ammunition are less frequently needed.”
“How’s the new foam working out?”
“It’s hell on the uniforms but really effective at slowing down the rioters,” Raige admitted. The foam contained a mild sedative that was absorbed through the skin and helped quell the attackers. Though controversial at first, it was the most humane way of dealing with people when language and cultural differences inflamed problems.
“Good to hear, although I doubt the comptroller will appreciate the higher cleaning bills.” He said it with a smile. He was joking, trying to ease whatever tension was in the air, but he looked as tired and worn as Raige.
“Things are only going to get rougher, Sergeant. We’ve pushed this planet to its breaking point. We just need to hold on until we can send some of us into space.” Raige knew that Project Next Gen had been founded years before to find a way to preserve life beyond Earth. They’d found a world light-years away and were racing the ecological clock to build the arks that were their last hope.
“How many do you think will make it?”
“Current planning is for ten arks using the Lightstream engines, each carrying about 125,000 people plus fish, birds, animals, plant life, and supplies. So, 1.25 million people out of nearly 12 billion.”
Raige was stunned by the small number despite the enormity of the project. He knew there was no way to save everyone, but that number for the first time in his life sounded woefully tiny.
“Your family is no stranger to those engines, are they?” Lider asked, accepting the tea Sato brought him. Without asking, Sato handed Raige a second bottle of water and then vanished out of sight.
“Yes, sir. My great-great-great grandfather was there at the beginning,” Raige said.
Lider nodded and asked, “What do you know of his work?”
“Growing up, we were all taught how he was a scientist at a Russian site where a starship apparently crashed,” he said, knowing how bizarre that sounded.
“Did it concern you that there is evidence of life beyond Earth?”
“I believe in the Bible, sir, but also accept that the universe is really too large for us to be the only ones.”
Lider nodded, sipping his tea, savoring the peaceful moment. “Good to know.”
“Thomas Raige, Viktor’s son, came over and seemingly started a dynasty,” Lider continued with a slight smile. “You’ve had aunts, uncles, cousins crawling all over the LST development. Now you’re in line to continue that legacy.”
Raige nodded in confirmation. He knew that Viktor Radoslav was a scientist at the time, and his son, Thomas, who was renamed Raige when he immigrated to the United States, continued the research. They were part of a team, sworn to secrecy about the alien discoveries. It was discussed only among the elders of the family, and where other families had confirmations or bar mitzvahs to mark the rite of passage, members of the extended Raige family were entrusted with this astonishing truth. He vaguely knew of the various Raiges who either helped protect its secrecy or plumbed the alien secrets.
“In fact, your own father flew some of the Lightstream experimental shuttles for NASA before becoming a private pilot,” Lider continued. Raige was impressed that a man with this much on his mind could conjure up such details without a briefing report. That told him a lot about how serious this conversation was. The secretary general wouldn’t have boned up on his life and background if this wasn’t about something huge.
“His sister, your aunt Sarah, was once director of homeland security and fiercely guarded the Lightstream Project, cherishing it as both a family and a national treasure,” Lider added with a small smile. “After all, the LST tech was actually owned globally given how many people from different countries had contributed to its development since its discovery in 1908.”
Lider continued his questioning. “So tell me, if you knew all about the legacy, what led you to the military?”
“Truth be told, sir, I wasn’t born with that particular scientific aptitude. I can’t sit in a lab and do research, and if we’re being honest here, I am not much for great heights,” Raige said.
“Which leaves out flying,” Lider said, nodding. “So you decided to enlist and see the world.”
“More like try to save it from itself,” Raige said. “Of course, once I filed the data work, I was shuffled over to the Rangers.”
“True. By then we were screening heavily to find promising recruits, and now look at you, nine years in, an impressive rank and record,” the secretary general said with a father’s pride. “The field promotion in Portugal, for example. Tell me about that.”
“You obviously read the report, sir. An extremist group was threatening a port with famine relief supplies destined for Morocco. They had booby-trapped the ships and the port and jammed the radio frequencies. While we negotiated for the release of the crews, I was sent in with a team to liberate the port. When my chief officer was shot down, I began issuing orders, and we successfully took the port. I then sent frogmen into the sea to disarm the ships.”
“All the while, the negotiations continued,” Lider said.
“Politicians can talk all they want, and we took advantage of the stalling.”
“Loss of life?”
“On our side, just my CO, Sergeant Conway. On their side, two dozen.”
“Impressive work.”
“Thank you, sir,” Raige said, suddenly feeling impatient, wanting the interrogation to end and for Lider to move on to the point.
“Are you hoping to be placed on an ark and leave this world behind?”
Was this what it was about, a posting on an ark? Couldn’t be; the SG was too busy for that.
“It’d be nice, but I’m no one special, just a grunt trying his best,” Raige said.
“You sound humble, but you come from a line that is anything but. In fact, your lineage is what brought you to my attention. You serve the Rangers and the world, but there’s a more personal stake at work here, too. You want Lightstream to work and save us all, don’t you?”
“Well, save as many as we can, yes, sir,” he said.
“You have an impressive mix of credentials and glowing reports from General Rodgers, Colonel Mishkin, and Senator McCluskey. I’ve seen footage of you at work and studied your file for days,” Lider admitted.
That didn’t exactly surprise Raige, but it did fuel his curiosity and make him feel antsy. He’d been sitting long enough.
“Everything we do at the UN, at Project Next Generation, and with the Rangers has to work on multiple levels. We have to move things forward, protect the project to save humankind from itself, and we have to send out a co
nstant stream of signals that we have their best interests at heart. We have to, in short, make the wisest choices, ignoring all the old rules and protocols. Frankly, I’m likely to be the last secretary general, and I don’t have to worry about a legacy or election. I can act freely and intend to do that right now.”
Lider stood, and Raige matched his action.
“Skyler, I intend to make the United Ranger Corps a fully independent body, answerable to no one. The primary goal remains to preserve humanity. That mission objective will not change until the last ark leaves Earth’s orbit. Each one will carry Rangers to keep the peace for the next hundred years until the arks arrive at Nova Prime. From this moment forward, it needs a face the people can trust. It also needs a leader. I’ve created the post of Supreme Commander and would like you to accept this assignment.”
Raige’s jaw fell open. His legs trembled, and he gripped the armrests on the chair to stay upright. Supreme Commander was a powerful title. But he was just twenty-nine; how could he command a global operation, ordering people nearly twice his age to fight? Surely there had to be other, more experienced and qualified senior officers.
“Sir?”
“The Raiges have been caretakers of the LST tech for over a century, and it needs a Raige now to ensure it can do what we pray it can do. I need a strong, youthful, and, in your case, handsome face for the Rangers. We need to project confidence in having a future, so we’re skipping a few generations of senior officers. The Rangers have been asked to do some difficult tasks, and now they are going to be asked to do some pretty impossible things over the next few years. It means the Rangers will be protecting those selected to leave Earth and also those who are being consigned to a fairly grisly death. It means protecting the transport ships from workers who understand they are building a means of escape for others. This job offer comes with no guarantee you yourself will be placed on an ark. I know it’s a lot to ask someone so young, but trust me, this was not a choice hastily made.”
