by Peter David
The Ursa was quiet and stealthy, but she knew it was there just as it knew she was nearby. Calmly, she assumed the classic horse stance, cutlass pulled back in two hands, ready to swivel and thrust the moment she could see the beast.
Senshi stole one look behind her, making eye contact with the terrified Kitai. Her hands made a downward gesture, keeping him low and safe. She nodded with confidence, assuring him he would be safe. This was what big sisters did.
As carefully as she could, keeping the cutlass behind her, she eased toward her old room. Then, spotting the Ursa’s shadow and noting its position, she changed her mind and began spinning her cutlass in a figure eight, letting it whir in the air. As she did, she issued the command to voice activate the naviband.
“This is Raige on the second floor. The Ursa is here. In my house. I have one child with me, but he’s secure. I could really use some backup. A Ghost or two if you could spare them.”
Her father had been the first Ghost, years before. Since then, there had been a few others who exhibited the same remarkable ability to mask their presence from the Ursa. There had been Daniel Silver, whom she met just once. And Blackburn, but he had gone missing and wasn’t someone her father liked to talk about.
McGuiness acknowledged her signal but added that reinforcements were minutes out. She wasn’t sure she had minutes, not with that thing in the room next door. That was why Ursa squads were required to have eight members.
“And you’re where?”
“Just heading back from the shelter. I should be with you in two minutes,” he told her.
She doubted that. She knew where the shelter was, and it was more than two minutes away. There was no choice: To save Kitai, she would have to engage the beast on her own.
This was what she trained for. What she lived for.
The Ursa chose that moment to walk into the room. It moved steadily on its six feet and clearly had a bead on her scent. If it imprinted on her, she was dead. If she could avoid that, she had a fighting chance of surviving. The Ursa must have sensed they were in tight quarters, and it stalked back and forth, blocking her only exit. She spun the cutlass about, making certain the creature knew she would not go down without a fight.
The figure eights were good for show and to loosen her muscles but also allowed her to build up momentum, and when the time was right, she lunged right at it. She hoped to inflict a good wounding blow and slow it down long enough for the reinforcements to turn up. As the weapon neared the Ursa, it backed up several meters. A quick thrust from one of its legs sent furniture crashing about.
Senshi sidestepped, allowing the furniture to tumble past her. At the same time, the Ursa tried to move in on her. Senshi pivoted and jabbed. The creature knocked the point of her weapon aside but failed to knock it out of her hands. Gritting her teeth, Senshi struck back, and that began the give-and-take, the thrusting and the jabbing. The Ursa bunched its powerful hind legs and lunged for her, but Senshi dropped low, bringing up the cutlass in a move that she was certain would impale the creature.
But it didn’t.
The Ursa landed clear of the weapon. That caught Senshi by surprise, momentarily making her falter. Her confidence rocked, she tried to bring the cutlass back around so that she could slice into the beast’s body.
That hesitation, that slowness of thought cost her. The Ursa was faster than she imagined, and before she could register its movement, a clawed foot lashed out and struck her. Talons cut into her right shoulder. She felt her skin split and then a rush of blood followed by intense pain radiating from her shoulder up her neck and down her arm. Her cries of pain sounded weak compared with the bellow of the beast.
The impact forced her backward, opening a space between them. She tried to backpedal and increase the distance, but the pain was all-consuming. The beast closed the gap, and she raised the cutlass with her good arm, ready to retaliate. Instead, with a swift wave of a leg, the creature knocked the cutlass from her unsteady grip. She heard it clatter to the ground but dared not take her eyes off the beast, certain it would lunge if she tried to retrieve the weapon.
The Ursa shifted its stance, and she took a chance, moving toward the fallen cutlass, but the beast howled anew and froze her. She was a Raige, and they never froze in battle. But she froze now, and it cost her.
A claw stabbed into her leg, going right through the Ranger uniform and into muscle. It closed and pulled, and she felt tendons and muscles and veins being ripped from her body. Another of the legs thrust into her stomach and repeated the grisly action.
Senshi’s sight grew dim, for which she was thankful, not at all wishing to see her insides on display. Her mind clouded with images of Kitai, safely in the case; of Faia, off someplace else, clueless to the fact that her only daughter was bleeding out in this very moment; of Cypher Raige, the Prime Commander, watching her actions with disapproval and pointing out all of the cutlass maneuvers she should have used.
All she wanted was to please him, to follow in his footsteps and carry on the proud Raige name. Instead, she was dying, no longer able to feel the pain.
Senshi knew that the creature reached out and knocked her off her feet, which didn’t take all that much effort considering that one of her legs was little better than grated cheese. Although she no longer could focus or feel the pain as shock bathed her nervous system, her ears worked just fine as the Ursa let out a fresh roar. She matched it with her own terrified shriek, a duet of life and death.
The beast was atop her now, three legs pinning her down, each cutting fresh wounds into her battered body. It dripped saliva on her, and it was rank. Her vision went from blurry to dim to dark. She was dying. It would have been easy to think that she had failed the Rangers—and perhaps she had—but she found some solace in knowing that her baby brother would live to see another day. She hadn’t failed her family. The thought brought her a measure of peace. She hoped they would forgive her for leaving them. She hoped her father would forgive her. In a small voice, as if he were close enough to hear her ask, she softly said, “Dad.”
The Ursa crushed her mangled body. Senshi welcomed oblivion.
1000 AE
Earth
i
Kitai lay on his back, a dying snow angel. His crimson blood was mixing with the ash’s clear white. He tried to reach for the cutlass on his back but came up with air, forgetting it was nearby. He let his arm fall and looked down at the limb as the gray ash adhered to his wet skin.
He thought, That’s really pretty.
He closed his eyes and there were Senshi’s loving eyes as she leaned close to him.
Then he saw the mother condor, fighting to protect her babies.
Senshi’s eyes darted around the room and fixed on a rounded glass box with plants in it.
The bee jousting with the spider in a lightning flash.
Senshi is leaning close, whispering in his ear.
He crawls from the nest, protected by the dead condor.
The bee ceases to struggle, then breaks its bonds.
Kitai is swimming in the shaft of light, his lungs ready to burst.
Senshi takes one final look toward Kitai. She nods confidently and makes a down-handed gesture to indicate that he should stay low.
That everything is going to turn out just fine.
On the raft with Senshi. Her lips brushing his ear, to impart a secret. He hears her say, “Forgive yourself.”
* * *
Kitai opened his eyes in the cooling air. The gray ash was lightly coating his body. He studied himself and realized he was being layered head to toe in the ash. Skin, blood, and smart fabric were vanishing beneath this new gray skin.
His reverie was broken by the sound of the Ursa finally breaking through the top of the shaft. Although he couldn’t see the camouflaged beast, he could hear it steady all six limbs on the mountainside. It was now free to kill him.
Kitai was not worried. He was breathing steadily, his mind focused on something other than the Ursa.<
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The Ursa approached him at a deliberate pace, not rushing the kill. As it moved forward, closing the gap, it did not notice that the ash was also coating its invisible form, rendering it visible. Dusted, it could no longer rely on camouflage.
The Ursa continued to move toward its target, gray ash coating every portion of its hideous body. Dark blood seeped from its wounds, acting as a paste to keep the ash from flaking off. Kitai watched as it slowed down, seemingly confused for the first time. It swiveled its neckless head back and forth, clearly trying to regain his scent. And failing.
A small smile crossed Kitai’s face for the first time in what felt like days. He pushed himself up to rest on one knee, careful not to make a sound but also no longer worried about the creature. Rising to both feet, he stood, his back to the Ursa, and concentrated on his surroundings.
Kitai’s vital signs resumed their even baseline reading, and the warning lights flickered off. Cypher studied them, certain the system had not malfunctioned, and then settled back with a wince, watching the screens around him. Everything remained stable and steady. His son was seemingly in control of the situation. That was when he noticed a tear splash against the back of his hand. Cypher looked down at it; flicked his eyes once more to the screen, which remained unchanged; and let the tears finally come. It was the only thing he could do that didn’t physically hurt. That, and watch his son do what so few had done before.
Kitai knew that he was standing high atop a volcanic black mountain. That an Ursa, which had imprinted on him, was standing just meters away. That the means for his salvation were in his hands—the cutlass to deal with the Ursa and the homing beacon to save his father.
Time seemed to slow down as he concentrated on his breathing, mastering his emotions and achieving a state of being he had never felt before.
For once, he was finally in control. He wasn’t, before—not with Senshi, and not with the kind mother condor. But that was okay. He was helpless then, but they had risked their lives so that he could keep living his own. That’s how much they loved him.
That’s how much Kitai loved his father.
Sure in what he had to do, Kitai walked almost casually past the Ursa, which continued to turn in a complete circle, seeking its prey, and bent to collect his cutlass. Now armed, he returned to the Ursa and defiantly stood before it, face to face. The ash continued to fall, flakes settling on his cheeks, almost anointing him on the planet of his forebearers.
Grasping the cutlass with both hands, he tapped in a command, splitting the armament into identical parts. Now hefting twin-bladed weapons, he tightened his grip and ran toward the Ursa.
A gray ghost charged across the rocky terrain, almost invisible to anyone watching.
The other ashen figure finally heard the approaching footfalls and tensed itself for a renewed battle.
It was not to be.
Instead, Kitai moved toward a rocky growth and launched himself high into the air, sailing through the distance and landing on the Ursa’s back. Noting where the wounds continued to leak its noxious blood, Kitai plunged the dual cutlasses into those access points and buried them deep.
The Ursa screamed, but in a tone Kitai had not heard before. It was clearly a scream of unimaginable pain. Perhaps this was the first time the beast had felt its own mortality. It shrieked and spun about, writhing and attempting without success to dislodge the tiny human on its back.
As the Ursa bucked, Kitai gripped both pieces of his weapon tightly and rode it out, slamming repeatedly into the beast’s bony body. He banged an elbow against a piece of metal that the Skrel had woven into its flesh for additional protection. That made him loosen one hand, and he nearly lost his balance and his position atop the beast. Done with riding and wishing to end it, he tapped a pattern into both handles, and the weapons altered their configurations.
Once more the Ursa bellowed in pain as the twin cutlass halves sliced through sinew, muscle, and bone as they reshaped. Kitai pushed deeper, and the spear end of the left cutlass emerged from underneath the creature. With a tap, the spear tip retracted, leaving a gaping fresh wound, and more of its blood poured forth.
Another tap and now the right cutlass formed a sickle shape that was shoved deeply enough to pierce through the roof of the Ursa’s mouth and emerge a wet, gooey thing from the maw. The human continued to slice away at the beast, literally gutting it from the inside.
He didn’t think about the cruelty being inflicted. Nothing mattered to him but ending this threat and completing the mission. Kitai was focused solely on his task, on being in control for the first time, and on taking command of the situation. It was how he was trained.
It was who he was.
He was Kitai Raige, the culmination of his ancestors.
Another tap.
Another scream.
Another tap.
Another scream.
But this time the Ursa faltered, no longer steady on its six feet. Sensing its own death, the creature let its instincts take it to the edge of the cliff. It would die by falling, and it would take its prey with it.
Another tap.
No more did the beast yell. Instead, the Ursa slowed its pace toward the edge of the mountain.
One final tap, and this time the creature lowered itself to the ground, its energy spent. Less than a meter from the cliff, it collapsed.
ii
The camera moved so violently, Cypher feared becoming seasick, but he felt so crappy to begin with that he barely noticed.
Things slowed down in time with the Ursa’s death throes, and now the camera was showing his son still on the dead Ursa’s back, as the beast’s legs finally gave way and it dropped to the ground.
His son dismounted from the creature, taking the cutlass pieces, still dripping with gore, out of its dead carcass. With a yell and a strain of spent muscles Kitai stared down at the beast, daring it to move.
Two more taps, and the cutlass pieces reshaped themselves into the sickle swords. Cypher felt a chill run through his body, seeing his son, now a man. A warrior.
A Ranger.
* * *
Kitai felt no joy. He also felt no fear. The threat had been dispatched, and he remained in place, studying the beast. He noted that his shredded lifesuit had shifted from black to rust, the smart fabric no longer sensing immediate danger.
Wiping the gore from the blades on the ash-covered hide, he brought the two pieces together and re-formed the cutlass into a single tool. Climbing down from the beast, he walked over to his fallen backpack and retrieved it. Once it was in place, he affixed the cutlass to it and began to walk higher up the mountain.
Still feeling in command of his surroundings, Kitai was bursting with controlled energy and used it to propel himself gracefully up the mountain. The rock and ash soon were joined by snow until his boots sank centimeters into pure white powder. The temperature dropped with each kilometer he walked, and still he climbed undeterred. Thoughts of exhaustion, hunger, and pain did not exist. Only the mission did.
He had to blink twice to clear his mind as he reached the peak. There, atop the world, he saw for a hundred kilometers or more all around. Instead of admiring the world in its natural beauty, he focused on powering up the homing beacon, and within moments it had cycled to life and signaled readiness. With one hand, he raised it high into the cool air, slamming the button that would summon help.
The beacon thrummed with power, and a bright white light raced into the starry night. He knew that the humans were wise when they left Earth. Between here and Nova Prime, the arks dropped buoy satellites. They were dubbed breadcrumbs and acted as tethers between worlds. Now the ancient satellites would act as relays, ensuring that the signal would race across the light-years home.
The signal sent, Kitai was satisfied this phase of the mission was completed. He could return to his father and care for him, keep him alive, until help arrived.
1000 AE
Somewhere in Space
Cypher Raige was
not entirely sure what happened after he saw Kitai begin his final ascent to the top of the mountain. His fever was higher, and he no longer had the adrenaline surge to keep him focused. Instead, delirious, he succumbed, satisfied that help was coming.
The next thing he saw was a thin, bright vertical line. Something was cutting into the darkness. He had no idea how much time had passed or why the Hesper had grown dark.
He saw figures, two, maybe three, maybe six. All he could make out was the shapes with bright light behind them. He saw something silvery, too, but had no idea what he was looking at. People said that when you died, you sometimes saw a white light and you were to walk toward it. He never imagined heaven having Rangers waiting to greet him. Maybe being Prime Commander had its perks after all.
If I’m dying, I shouldn’t still be feeling so much pain, should I? And if I were dead, why do I feel like I’m being gripped and lifted?
He shut his eyes and drifted off.
Next thing he knew, he was being carried. It was a feeling he recognized, and that meant he was not dead. At least not yet. He was now inside the silvery space. Was it the belly of Moby Dick? Were an Ursa’s innards silver? No, it was an artificial setting, not organic. That was when his mind told him he was being carried between ships, between the wreck of the Hesper and the rescue ship.
Kitai’s signal had gotten through.
Kitai, finally feeling rested and refreshed after being rescued, wished he had something other than his tattered lifesuit to wear. He would have liked a Ranger uniform, but that would come with time. There was no way Velan could refuse him now.
He had dreamed of surpassing all the Raiges who’d preceded him, up to and including the general. After his experience on Earth, he might not be quite ready to surpass his father, but he felt that he was much farther along than he’d been a few days earlier. Amazingly, it had been just a week before that he’d been on Nova Prime, feeling like life had kicked him in the teeth. Now he had visited Earth, seen amazing things, and single-handedly killed an Ursa. Kitai still needed time to process all he had experienced and accomplished.
