Raige’s mind was awhirl with fears, concerns, plans, hopes, and a certain elation at the recognition. His parents and family would be delighted as they always wanted him to be part of the “family business” and here he was, charged with protecting it.
“Thank you, sir. Where will the Corps be based? What is the command structure intended to be without UN oversight?”
“Good questions,” Lider said, a twinkle in his tired eyes. “Does this mean you accept?”
“It is a huge honor, sir. And a powerful responsibility. But how could I possibly refuse the secretary general, speaking essentially for the world?”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Lider said, extending his hand.
Raige hesitated for a moment, the enormity of the next instant looming large in his mind. His heart was pounding, and he struggled for control. Finally, the hand crossed the short distance and sealed the deal. He had walked in a sergeant major and was about to walk out a commander, no, a Supreme Commander, something unheard of.
“Sato will take you next door to run through the schedule. We announce your promotion at eight tonight, and as of 12:01 a.m., you take charge. You will see he was most thorough and left half an hour for you to call your parents.”
They really had all the bases covered. His agreeing had been a foregone conclusion, and if he had said no, he would have been kept in the room until that was turned into an affirmative.
Raige stepped out of the office, his mind racing with ideas, questions, concerns, and a rising sense of excitement. This had tremendous possibilities, and he had a few years to shape the Rangers for the next hundred years or more. Clearly, the opportunities meant his final years on Earth would be good, productive ones.
No sooner did Raige leave the room than Lider was confronted by a figure who had used the side door. Clearly, Damian Kincaid had been eavesdropping on the conversation and was furious. The red-faced man was four centimeters or so taller than Lider and cut an imposing figure, looming large in the room. He was wearing an expensive suit, and his shoes were polished to a high sheen; he clearly cared more about his appearance than his superior did. Kincaid had been one of his security advisors, and although Lider knew the man disapproved of his choice, he was just now getting a sense of how upset he was.
“You fool!”
“That is no way to speak to your boss,” Lider said, slumping in his chair, ceding the room’s domination to Kincaid. The man tended to go for large gestures, speaking with his hands, making faces when he couldn’t speak out. Now he was letting it all hang out, and Lider steeled himself for the harangue.
“He’s an inexperienced kid!” Kincaid said loudly.
“We’ve covered that. His record is exemplary, with more action than those with twice the seniority,” Lider reminded him.
“Like that’s going to matter in the months ahead! We’re about to go straight to hell and need an experienced hand running that operation,” Kincaid said, dropping his voice just a notch below a bellow.
“At least we agree on cutting it loose,” Lider said, wishing he had a call from some world leader. Any world leader. “Supreme Commander is as much logistics as public relations. He’s young, good-looking, and a war hero. He will project that confident image we need to keep selling the world that this is our best course of action. He’ll surround himself with experienced hands, but he needs to be the public face.”
Kincaid exhaled in frustration.
“Damian, you were outvoted. And now you’re trying to spread your sour grapes over my carpet. I should think you know better than this. Skyler Raige has everything we want and need for the role. He’s what the Security Council wanted when I said it was time for the Rangers to be independent. He’s a youthful, vigorous presence. He has demonstrated an innate understanding of people, making him an ideal leader. Best, he’ll be a calming force when everyone else, yourself included, is shrieking at the top of their lungs.”
Lider had said similar words days earlier when the final vote had been taken and Kincaid was one of several who remained adamant that someone with more experience was required. But as Kincaid himself had just pointed out, everyone was headed into uncharted territory. Experience or additional years were not really a measure.
“We formed the Rangers in 2052 when it was clear we needed a global force. We’ve been training them for less than fifteen years. Who will really have more than Raige’s nine years’ experience and service record? I challenged you to give me alternative qualified names, and you failed to find one better equipped. Why are you so opposed to him?”
Kincaid spun about, jabbing a finger in Lider’s direction. “Because as we face total annihilation, I’d like us to have total faith in our leadership. He’s not even thirty, and you’re about to entrust him with the largest army this world has seen since the Roman Empire.”
“Let me remind you, Damian, Alexander was barely thirty when he ruled much of the civilized world,” Lider said. “Don’t be so hung up on age as opposed to the man’s character. He’s proven himself.”
“Is that what you’ll tell the generals who now have to salute a kid?”
“If they can make an appointment and get into this room, yes, that is what I will tell them.”
“I cannot abide the disrespect you’re showing to the natural order of things,” Kincaid said.
Lider had had enough. He rose and stared up at the younger, larger man. “The natural order was tossed out decades ago. We’re making every effort to preserve a tiny sliver of this world, and we need everyone on board, headed in the same direction, pulling their own weight. Pick your cliché, but I need to move forward and not waste time this world no longer has on rehashing decisions the committee made.
“Either support Raige or get out of the way.”
Kincaid let it all sink in and thought very carefully for maybe a second. “Fine, I’ll get out of the way. While you’re busy touting the kid, I’ll be tendering my resignation, telling the media that you have squandered the Rangers’ best chance for making a miracle happen.”
With that, the man stormed from the office, taking all his pent-up energy with him.
Lider sank back into his seat, realizing he wasn’t going to miss Kincaid. He was capable, sure, but he was far from a team player. What his former employee seemed to have missed was that, in Lider’s mind, Raige was Earth’s last chance for greatness.
1000 AE
Nova Prime
i
Hours after his conversation with Velan, Kitai finally had managed to clean up his face. He felt as if it had taken him days. He kept staring into the mirror, and all he could see was a vision of misery and frustration. He knew he wasn’t wrong in thinking that, because when his mother had come home, she had taken one look at him and mutely opened her arms to him.
But he’d been ready for that. All he did was wave it off casually, as if the failure of his aspirations was simply another problem that would be dealt with in the course of time. Faia naturally did not believe that for a second, but she was stymied by his determined reluctance to discuss it. She folded her arms across her chest, stared at him for a few moments, and then said simply, “If you want to talk about it, I’ll be happy to listen.”
But he wasn’t interested in discussing it. Instead, after showering and dressing for his father’s arrival, he contented himself with staring out the window that enabled him to look out over the entire city. Many apartments within the structure had no actual windows. Instead, they had to settle for holograms that enabled them to see re-creations of different Nova Prime visuals. The dwellers there would swear that their view was better since they could change it at will, but Kitai was sure that they were just making excuses. Nothing was as good as seeing the real life of Nova Prime.
The twin suns were in the process of setting. This was his favorite time of the day, when one sun was disappearing and the other was still in the sky. It dropped a gorgeous haze over the horizon and made him proud to be a resident of Nova Prime City.
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Faia had arranged the food on the table already because she knew exactly how her husband liked things to be when he came home. She looked it over with satisfaction and then checked her watch. Her husband was running late. Her husband never ran late, and that was enough to tell her that someone else was running late and delaying her husband, and her husband was doubtless going to be complaining about it when he came home.
No reason she couldn’t minimize his reasons for complaining when he came home. “Kitai, care to sit?”
He looked away from his view of the city and stared at her in confusion for a moment. Then he shrugged inwardly. If his mother wanted him seated, he’d be seated. He took his customary chair at the table, smoothing out the lines of his jacket. As he did so, Faia brought out the actual foodstuffs. Some lettuce from her garden to start, followed by baked sartori, a cowlike creature that was native to Nova Prime and widely grown in farms around the planet for eating purposes. Not the cheapest meal she could have put out, but worth it considering that her husband and Kitai’s father had been gone for months.
He’s always gone for months.
The bleak thought filtered through Kitai’s mind, and he hated himself for even thinking about it, because when he dwelled on his father’s lengthy absences for too long, he always started thinking about why his dad was away for so long. It could well have been the reason he always gave: business. And since his business involved protecting the people of Nova Prime, what was Kitai supposed to say in response to that?
I know the reason you’re never around. It’s because you can’t stand to look at me because I can’t cut it as a Ranger. Yes, that would definitely go over well.
Faia seated herself across from her son and folded her fingers. So that was what they were going to do? Just wait for his father to show up? This was going to be unbridled excitement.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No, Mom, I really don’t,” he informed her.
“Okay.” She glanced toward the landing on the other side of the apartment. The veiled doors had been pulled aside, allowing a steady breeze to flow through. She licked the tip of her finger and held it up, gauging it. “Did you notice that? The wind shifted.”
He nodded. “To the northwest.” It wasn’t an especially exciting topic to talk about, but at least discussing the weather took the two of them away from matters that could well prove disastrous if engaged in.
Then they both heard sounds at the front doorway. Immediately Faia got to her feet. Kitai followed suit. He smoothed his jacket and said, “How are my lines?”
“Your lines are perfect.” She reached up and ran her hands along her face. “How are my lines?”
“Mom …”
She laughed lightly at that even as she moved across the living room to the front door. Kitai straightened his posture as Faia opened the door for his father.
Cypher Raige stood revealed in the doorway. He had two arms and two legs and his face was unscarred, so all that was good. He wore dress whites that only a Ghost could wear. His kit bag was slung over his shoulder, and there was some baggage behind him. Considering that Kitai only ever saw his father wearing his Ranger uniforms, part of him wondered what could be in all the suitcases. A dozen Ranger uniforms? Kitai had no idea.
His father was as tall and strong as Kitai remembered him. He had the same haircut as his son, with a triangular face and eyes that were cold and appraising rather than displaying any happiness over being back. That wasn’t unusual, really. It was hard for Kitai to recall a time when his father genuinely displayed happiness over anything.
For a moment, neither parent said anything. Then Cypher tilted his head slightly. “Faia.”
“Hi.”
They didn’t kiss. They never kissed, at least not when Kitai was around. God knows, he’d never discussed it with either of them. He’d just figured that Cypher felt it wasn’t appropriate.
Cypher slid the kit bag off his shoulder, and his gaze shifted to Kitai, who was standing stiff and upright by the table. “You’ve grown,” he said. Cypher then strolled forward, walking past Faia without another word, and stood there in front of his son, taking him in. Assessing him. Kitai stayed right where he was, staring straight forward, arms at his sides, legs stiff. Cypher slowly surveyed him, walking around him and studying him up and down. His voice flat, showing no emotion whatsoever, Cypher spoke as he rounded his son: “Your collar’s ragged. You have a crease on your right pant leg but not your left. Fold crease.” He took a moment to glance toward Faia with a silent accusation that clearly condemned her for letting Kitai get away with such a sloppy presentation before he continued. “Your jacket is improperly fastened. Before you present yourself for inspection, cadet, square yourself in the mirror. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Cypher continued staring at his stricken son for long moments and then finally allowed, “But this isn’t an inspection.”
It was, of course, Cypher’s attempt to let his son off the hook, or at least that was how Kitai saw it. His father reached over and gave him an awkward pat on the back. Apparently he thought that made up for the stiff and formal greeting, as if it were all some big joke. Yet Kitai couldn’t help but feel as if it were anything but that. As if he and Cypher both knew the truth of his criticisms and Cypher had simply softened it a bit to make up for it and fool his wife. Kitai suspected that she hadn’t been deceived in the least.
Yeah. This is going to be a great night.
It took Kitai a couple of minutes to help his father get his suitcases inside. Opting to wait until after dinner to put his things away, Cypher took his customary seat at the head of the table, and they began eating. He turned to Kitai and asked the question Kitai had been dreading all day. “So, how were finals?”
Kitai didn’t respond. He had no idea what to say.
The lack of response immediately prompted Cypher to put down his lacquered utensil. He appeared to know immediately that something was up. Having received no response from his son, he turned to his wife and said again, “How were finals?”
Faia had trouble replying. Clearly she was worried that she would be betraying something about which Kitai was sensitive. Part of Kitai almost prompted him to say nothing just to see how his mother would handle it, but he knew that would be inappropriate. He had to say it himself.
But he couldn’t look at his father as he said it. Instead, he became very interested in the potatoes on his plate as he said in a low voice, “I wasn’t advanced to Ranger.”
Cypher didn’t even hesitate. “Where do we look when we speak?”
Kitai shifted his eye contact to his father. “I was not advanced to Ranger.”
“You were not advanced to Ranger …?” Cypher leaned forward, waiting for the additional word that, clearly as far as he was concerned, Kitai should have remembered to say at the end. Kitai was so distracted that for a long moment he actually forgot. Then he recalled.
“I was not advanced to Ranger, sir.”
A long silence followed. Cypher simply stared at him, almost as if trying to recall who the hell he was. The quiet seemed to stretch to infinity. Kitai fought to keep his face impassive, as if he had simply relayed news about a single poor test rather than a decision that seemed capable of destroying the rest of his life.
Then Cypher, to Kitai’s astonishment, shrugged. “That’s all right. You’re young.” And he went back to eating.
Kitai couldn’t quite believe it. That’s IT? From the minute I left Velan’s office to now, I’ve been dreading your response, and all you do is say, “That’s all right, you’re young”?
He knew on some level he should be incredibly grateful. But instead all he could think was that his father, the great Cypher Raige, really didn’t give a damn what his son did or didn’t do.
Bristling with barely contained anger, he said, “I ran the canyon eleven seconds faster than you did.”
Cypher shrugged as if that meant nothing. “Well, if you we
re ready, Velan would’ve promoted you. He’s a good man. Knows his stuff. You weren’t ready.” He shrugged and cut another piece of meat.
That was it. End of discussion, at least as far as Cypher was concerned. The man who expected nothing but success from himself—the man who had exhibited endless support for his daughter during her time as a Ranger—was indifferent to his son’s inability to qualify. Oh, well, maybe you’ll do better next time. That was the range of Cypher’s response.
Kitai was left with nothing to say. Part of him thought, He could have reamed you out! He could have done all the things you were afraid he’d do. Just be grateful and call it a day.
There was indeed some merit to that. His father could have ripped him to shreds. Instead, he’d just taken it in stride. Kitai should have been happy for that.
Instead, all it did was reinforce his deepest, most secret belief. He was convinced that his father really didn’t care about what he did or did not accomplish.
Kitai realized he was staring at his plate. Nothing else seemed to interest him. Finally he announced, “I’m not hungry. I’m going to my room.”
Cypher’s response was deathly quiet. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
I’m telling you.
“May I go to my room, sir?” He was already half out of his chair.
“Denied. Sit down.”
Kitai paused a moment, fighting the impulse to get up and walk away anyway. Hell, not just get up. Run. Maybe that would get a serious reaction from him.
Instead he slowly sat down.
Then Faia spoke up. Her voice was flat and even and filled with quiet rage. “May I be excused, General?”
Cypher turned and looked at her in surprise. He’d just been in the middle of disciplining his son, the failure. He clearly was not expecting his wife to intervene.