If the Ursa wasn’t here … where was it?
ii
Cypher Raige had had better days. Slumped in his chair, he dimly recognized that he was delirious. Images of his career played before his mind like an entertainment vid. Great battles, tremendous loss, and everywhere he looked, the Ursa were scuttling across his planet. No matter how many he killed, there were more. They were shredding Rangers, crawling through his family’s windows. One killed his daughter. There was blood everywhere.
He continued to feel helpless and alone, uncertain if Kitai was alive or dead. He desperately wanted to believe the boy was still on the mission, but the odds were stacked high against them both.
What Raige could not see was the medical screen’s readouts indicating how much blood he had lost. A red warning light indicated that blood transfusions were needed. Another readout showed that his potassium, creatinine, blood urea nitrogen, and myoglobin levels were off the normal charts. Warning lights flashed, summoning medical assistance that was not forthcoming.
Yet another screen Cypher could not see indicated that the arterial shunt had failed completely. The computer offered one final option: IMMEDIATE MEDICAL TRANSPORT.
With half-open eyes, Cypher roused himself from the images of war at home to see the battle his body was waging—and losing—against death. He saw the alert for transport and thought that was a lovely idea. Completely impossible but a nice idea nonetheless.
His only hope remained in the hands of his teenage son, far from him on the quarantined planet Earth, searching for the proverbial needle in a haystack. Cypher found himself drifting, remembering Kitai as a boy.
Suddenly, Cypher was in the old apartment again. Three-year-old Kitai was marching around in his pajamas and his father’s huge boots, struggling to hold Cypher’s cutlass.
“Those lines are tight, son,” Cypher said approvingly.
Kitai beamed with pride. As Faia captured the scene with her camera, Kitai hugged his father.
Cypher hugged him back. “And now it’s time for one junior officer to head off to bed.”
“Noooo—” Kitai protested.
“That’s a direct order from a superior officer, son,” Cypher told him.
The little boy straightened up and gave him a salute. Cypher leaned down and talked seriously to his son.
“We never disobey an order,” he told Kitai. “Not at home, not when deployed.”
“Yes, sir!” Kitai snapped.
“And give your mother a kiss, tell her you love her.” He cast a glance at his wife. “One day I’m just going to be ‘Kitai’s dad.’ ”
One day, Cypher thought as he sat there in the cockpit of a ruined ship and watched his son suffocate in the oxygen-poor air. His son was a Raige. Possibly the last in the family line, but he was a Raige. And a Raige never gave up.
So he would not—could not—give up on Kitai.
iii
Refreshed but still hungry, Kitai rose to his feet and continued his search through the wreckage to find the homing beacon that would summon help and save his father’s life. His father had explained exactly where to look and there were pictograms on the sides of various stations, and so he knew the exact size and shape of the space where the homing beacon should be. But there was so much twisted, torn metal and material that he began to doubt anything was where it should be.
Moving around, he allowed himself to take in the remains, missing the crew members who had plunged to their deaths. Against a far wall, he spotted a set of cutlasses, the C-40 model that he coveted using.
The one he had taken from the forward portion of the crippled ship, his father’s own weapon, was gone. Either lost in the stampede or jarred lose as the condorlike creature dragged him to safety. But that speculation didn’t matter now. Kitai grabbed a fresh weapon, checked it for damage, and affixed it to his backpack.
Having the weapon reminded him that it had been created to deal with the Ursa and that he had yet to verify what had become of the one the ship had been carrying.
He walked with purpose toward chunks of debris farther from the tail and soon found the pod that once had fascinated him in the cargo hold. Resting on its side, it sat crushing large fronded plants.
He snapped the cutlass to life, and it extended to its three-meter length, a soft hum filling the quiet, cooling air. The yellowish pod that had once contained the captured Ursa that the security chief had named Viper was shattered. The gel that inhibited the Ursa’s pheromone-locking ability was splashed everywhere. Pieces of the organic shell were strewn about, as were the binding straps, which lay on the ground.
There was no sign of the Ursa’s corpse.
That was very bad, and Kitai backed away from the damaged pod, weighing his options. First was the original mission target: the homing beacon.
It took time, and he felt each passing minute weigh on him, but he was methodical in working deeper into the remains of the Hesper and was rewarded with the section of hull where the beacon was stored. Surprisingly, it was intact in its cubby, unlike its twin, and he snapped it free. To be certain it would work, he backed out of the ship and into the clear space the crash had created. As he moved, he thumbed it to life and was delighted to hear the whir of the beacon cycling to life.
Cypher was nodding his head, his mind filled with images of home. He was there, out of uniform and in casual clothes he didn’t recognize. He and Kitai were sitting at the table, the remains of a meal between them. Faia was nowhere to be seen, but he missed her; that he was sure of.
The two obviously had been talking for some time, and he watched himself lean forward, a comforting hand coming down atop Kitai’s right forearm.
“Now listen to me,” he told his son.
Kitai stared at him blankly.
“Are you listening to me?” he asked in a tone he didn’t like hearing. He cleared his throat, and when he spoke again, it was low and forceful, making it clear that his meaning was unambiguous.
“You are not responsible when your father is not home.”
He nodded to himself because Kitai was not arguing but listening intently.
“You may have felt like I was angry at you, and maybe I was. But that was wrong.”
He nodded once more. Cypher was getting through to the boy.
“You were a child. I should have been there. You were right. I was a coward for being away from you guys for so long.”
Kitai finally opened his mouth to reply, but rather than words, he emitted a beep.
His son didn’t beep.
What was happening?
Forcing open his eyes, which were stinging from salty sweat, Raige noticed the secondary screen that was monitoring Kitai’s vitals. A steady beep was a welcome sound and gave the gravely ill man a point of focus. The peaks and valleys of a steady, healthy heartbeat were reason to remain hopeful.
Somehow, Kitai was still alive!
Then, from the speaker nearby: “Dad … are you there?”
It sounded like Kitai, but Cypher was having trouble focusing. He felt like he could not take a deep breath, just shallow, rapid ones. That wasn’t good. Shaking it off, he looked at the monitors and then spotted a grainy image of his son’s face flickering on the screen. That’s odd, he thought. The signal should be clear. The shaking stopped as his son steadied the backpack’s built-in camera. It was Kitai for certain.
“Dad?”
Cypher didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. He lacked the strength. But his hearing was working just fine, and his son’s voice was most welcome.
“Dad, I made it to the tail. Over.”
The tail? Kitai made it to the tail? Was this more of the hallucination? He blinked. His son’s grainy face remained in place. The expression had gone from happy to serious as no response was forthcoming. Clearing his throat took an effort, but finally Raige said, “Are … are you okay? Over.”
“Dad? Are you there? Over.”
That was odd. He had heard his own words; why hadn’t Kitai?
>
“Kitai?”
“Dad, I made it to the tail. Are you there?”
Of course he was. Where else would he be without both legs in working order? “I’m here!” he said.
“Dad, please copy.”
Cypher tried one more time: “I copy.”
That seemed to work, and Kitai’s face looked relieved. “It’s Kitai. I made it.”
The exchange seemed to recharge Raige somewhat, chasing away the nightmare images. “There’s something wrong with the signal, Kitai.”
“… Dad.” Yes, the static was going to make this conversation nearly impossible. “Dad, you’re still there, right? Can you hear me? Over.” His son was looking on the verge of panic, and that would not do.
Raising his voice, hoping he could punch through the static by sheer will, Cypher said, “Kitai! I swear to you I’m here!”
His will failed him as Kitai repeated, “Dad, please. The Ursa is not contained. Do you copy?”
Cypher realized that while he could hear his son, Kitai was effectively deaf to his words. There was no way he could guide and assist the teen, which anguished the general.
“No,” escaped from Cypher’s lips. It’s hunting him. Frustration energized him, and a flat hand slammed the console, the age-old remedy for balky equipment. Nothing changed.
By the time Kitai made his way outside toward the already setting sun, the homing beacon signaled that it was ready for use. Even if he couldn’t talk to his dad, he could save him. He was still alive, and now he had the beacon. Help would be coming. Of course, there was some thirty-two parsecs separating Nova Prime from Earth, but still, help would save his father.
There was no use sitting in the tail section futilely trying to converse with his injured father. Instead, he clicked off the naviband he had retrieved from a fallen Ranger half-buried in the wreckage and put on his backpack. The clouds were thick, obscuring some of the sunlight, but clouds meant nothing to the homing beacon that would traverse the stars. Standing away from the wreckage, he held the beacon high over his head and activated the device. The rounded upper section rose from the base and winked to life. The horseshoe-shaped display indicated it was fully charged and ready to transmit.
Kitai took a deep breath—which still felt great—and fired the device.
He waited for confirmation that the signal had been sent but was greeted with silence. Lowering his arm, he studied the device, and right above the red light in the center were the words signal interference.
Within the forward section of the Hesper, Cypher watched the readouts and was disheartened to see the words signal interference flash repeatedly. He was frustrated and angered that this was happening, but while he had the energy and focus, he would be damned if he’d just sit there doing nothing to help. His fingers stabbed at the command controls near him, and a holographic map appeared. The dozens of flying probes continued to transmit signals that the computer assembled into a three-dimensional relief map of the topography where Kitai stood. He narrowed the focus and spotted a mountain shape just past the blinking dot that represented his last best hope.
Another adjustment was made, and the image was now that of his son. Kitai looked fit and whole, which pleased Cypher, but then he saw the boy throw his backpack away from him. He moved about, arms flailing and mouth wide open, screaming words Cypher could not hear. If anything, it reminded him of the temper tantrums Kitai had had when he was a toddler. Cypher knew he couldn’t stop the useless behavior even if he understood it, but he still whispered, “Take a knee, cadet.”
The words were not heard, and now Kitai was swinging the fully extended cutlass without grace. It was just blind rage and anger fueling him as he cut away pieces of the tail section. He whipped the weapon about his body and let it cut deeply into a panel that still had power, emitting a shower of sparks. He moved away and continued to shout and smack the ship and breathe hard until the rage that roiled within him had been exhausted.
Kitai lowered the weapon. Cypher watched in fascination as his son expelled the last of the frustration and, on his own, took a knee. Nodding to himself, the general was pleased. Wiping away the tears that stained his cheeks, Kitai needed a new plan. Something was preventing the homing beacon from working, and every minute wasted meant the sun was lowering, the Ursa was prowling, and his father was dying. He didn’t have time for such outbursts and felt bad about his behavior, thankful his father wasn’t there to witness it.
Satisfied that his son had regained control, Cypher focused on the problem at hand. The computer’s diagnostics confirmed his fears, and he said aloud to himself, “There is an ionic layer in the atmosphere above your current position. It creates electrical interference. That’s why the beacon isn’t firing.
“You must be above the ionic layer before you fire the beacon, Kitai.” Cypher knew his son couldn’t hear him, but he kept talking anyway.
Cypher watched helplessly as Kitai once more studied the homing beacon. The teen then looked upward, studying his surroundings, including the thick clouds.
“That’s it. You got it,” he said to the holographic image of his son.
“You should see a black mountain in the distance, directly to the north. The mountain’s peak is above the ionic layer. Fire the emergency beacon there.
“Please see it … the top of the mountain … to your north.”
Cypher stopped talking, exhausted. He silently watched the image, mentally urging his son to succeed. Slowly, Kitai continued to turn in a complete circle, examining the situation and forming a plan. Then he spotted the mountain, studying it for a long beat before rising and moving toward it.
Cypher felt tears welling up and blinked them away. “Good boy … Good boy …”
1000 AE
Earth
i
Kitai had broken into a sprint, heading for the higher mountain and a chance for success. He pushed aside his growing hunger and instead studied the black mountain. His studies had taught him that such markings indicated it was a volcano, simmering. Dad had warned him the planet had many active volcanoes, and so he was glad this one was quiet. Its rough terrain would give him plenty of traction, making the climbing easier. There were no animals or birds nearby, and that meant he could focus entirely on the target. His Ranger training was coming back to him, and he would show Velan and Bo and Rayna. He was every bit a Ranger.
His run was interrupted abruptly when he came across the body of a leopard. It was not just lying before him on the ground but instead hanging from a tree, partly blocking his path. No wonder there were no other animals around. His mind also warned him of what could possibly have hung the carcass. Forcing that image from his mind, he kept moving.
Not long afterward, though, he came to a complete stop as he took in the sight of an entire pack of hyenas also hanging in the trees, almost in a straight line. This was not the work of some random predator higher up the food chain. They appeared to have been dead for some time. The Ursa was setting a trap, trying to rile up Kitai’s fear. And it was working.
He reached the base of the coal-black mountain without further incident, which was just fine by him. He forced himself to study the area before taking in the magnificent sight. There were hundreds of tiny lava rivers charging down the ebony slopes. Maybe it wasn’t so dormant after all.
Leaving the jungle behind for good, he hoped, he was stopped by a sound. He looked over his shoulder but saw nothing. Still, his flight-or-fight instincts said this was a good time for a jog. He kicked into high gear and began running up the black slope of the mountain.
Kilometers away, something made the motion sensor screen wake up and command Cypher’s attention. A new dot was moving toward Kitai’s blinking dot. There was no guessing what it could be, but without confirmation he merely told the holo image, “I have something moving toward you from the west … It has found you.” Like a good coach, Cypher talked to his holographic son, who was making good progress. Unable to help Kitai himself, he directed, “Go
left, Kitai. You’ll save time. You’ll have a straight shot without having to go through any tunnels.”
He sighed as Kitai moved to his right.
“Damn it.”
Kitai bolted up the slope, fast and fluid. It was an easier climb than his last effort before flunking out of the Rangers. He figured Bo and Rayna and the others would be far behind him by now. He missed them as he scampered with confidence and soon was enveloped in the ionic cloud, white and thick, that was causing the interference. It consumed the upper portion of the mountain and changed everything. Kitai realized he was effectively blind and could not see a predator, native or alien, if it was farther than two meters away from him.
Kitai readjusted a handhold and then looked at his sleeve and saw that the smart fabric had altered color to jet-black and adopted the texture that would protect its wearer from most harm. Danger was nearby; he couldn’t see it, but he knew it was coming. He just didn’t know from where. He tried to penetrate the dense mist around him visually but saw nothing.
However, he heard scuttling, something nearing him. Instinctively, he withdrew his cutlass and activated it. He moved backward a few meters and found an entrance to a cave, something he had missed the first time he’d passed it.
The cave was all onyx. Kitai had never seen anything so dark yet so shiny. There were stalactites and stalagmites cluttering the cave, and that made maneuvering tricky. The growths appeared to be made entirely of diamonds, something Kitai had never heard of happening back home. He had no time to study the fascinating find, instead running into the depths of the cave. All that mattered right now was that the Ursa was here, hunting him. There had to be a way out, hadn’t there? He continued to move, trying to control the mounting panic in his chest, when he spotted a shaft of light dropping from a crevice in the cave’s ceiling. All he had to do was follow that and he’d exit the mountain, above the damned clouds, he hoped, and activate the beacon.