After Earth: A Perfect Beast (50 page)

A fresh roar and the Ursa leaped away, skittering away from bin to bin, deep into the recesses of the storage building. The thought of just how much more dangerous a wounded Ursa could be frightened Diaz.

He was breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest, and the blood rushing loud enough to cloud his hearing. Just like that, his team was decimated and he was the last man standing. He had no idea when the reinforcements would arrive but he also knew he had to contain the Ursa so it wouldn’t escape or harm anyone else. He might die in the process … but he was kidding himself. Of course he was going to die. The Ranger had to admit he was just stalling the creature until help turned up.

The Ursa no doubt shared a trait with Nova Prime’s animal life: A wounded animal was a dangerous animal. They’d nicked it enough that it was probably in pain. Once it mastered its pain, it was likely to come seeking revenge.

Diaz needed to hide.

He gingerly moved away from the corpses and spilled grain in search of refuge. With slow, deliberate steps, he moved between the towering vats of grain waiting to be processed. Then he scanned the area and spotted a maintenance closet. It had a heavy metal door and might provide enough safety until help arrived. It wasn’t a cowardly act, but a smart one, staying alive until the
odds could be turned in the Rangers’ favor. Right now, Diaz was simply Ursa Chow, and that helped no one.

He couldn’t hear the Ursa and knew opening that door might tip off his position, but he was tired and worn enough to take the risk. Thankfully they had done a good job of upkeep with the maintenance door so it did not make a sound, swiveling open soundlessly. Locking it, though, made noise, but by then he didn’t care. He was inside. He was safe.

Only then did Diaz let the events of the past few hours wash over him. Tears freely rolled down his cheeks, and his body convulsed with emotion. All the training in the world could not possibly have prepared him for this sort of action. The Ursa were the stuff of nightmares, children’s stories, and horror vids for the masses. Sure, everyone knew they were out there, somewhere; it added to the stories’ sense of danger.

But here, in town, killing with abandon—that was beyond imagining.

He was going to die and his parents would be so disappointed in him. His thoughts began to drift past the fighting to earlier, happier days. Kevin was suddenly reliving his youth when the family gathered to practice meditation, seeking tranquility. Mom’s and Dad’s voices played in his mind. The sureness in their philosophy, the utter sense of calm that surrounded them. They were happy days, he realized, ones shared by the extended family. Aunts, uncles, cousins all joined in during holidays and birthday celebrations. No one fought, no one argued, and the joy was palpable. The elders ascribed their prolonged lives to the simple way they lived. Diaz wished his future included a long life but he now doubted it.

Diaz continued to let his mind drift back through the years, before Luis came to his defense. He recalled the lessons his father and mother reinforced at every opportunity. Simple phrases, simple exercises, simple life.

Before long, Diaz realized his breathing had slowed and deepened. He was reflexively exercising the controlled breathing that was a part of his training all those
years ago. The whirl of horrific images that filled his mind’s eye had vanished, replaced with happier days. He felt himself smiling, the tears drying on his face. He concentrated on his parents’ faces, playing with his brother, emblematic of the life he so desperately wanted to preserve.

A wave of calm washed over Diaz, flushing away the fatigue, hunger, and emotional pain he had felt the last few hours. Despite hearing the Ursa moving about nearby, seeking him out, Diaz realized the lessons had value. They refreshed him, centered him. This was his place in the natural order of life and he felt composed. At peace. Should he die right now, he would do so content that he had tried his best, honoring all life. Maybe not the same way his parents and ancestors did, but cherishing life in all its ways.

Without realizing it, he emerged from the closet, moving with soft steps toward the great engine of destruction. It didn’t hear him, didn’t sense him. The Ursa didn’t even appear to hear the powered cutlass, still in its trident form.

Diaz stood in place, studying the creature’s movements with fresh eyes. It moved more slowly, one limb definitely out of sync with the rest of the body. That was his target, the weak spot he had been seeking to finish the job his fellow Rangers started.

Step-by-step, Diaz drew closer, and still the Ursa remained unaware. For his part the Ranger felt unafraid, supremely confident that he would complete his task. Dead or alive, he was a part of Nova Prime, and it a part of him.

He smiled a warm smile. There was a silly, blissful feeling he maintained as he reared his right arm back, planting his feet. He felt no fear now, nothing for the Ursa’s hypersenses to lock onto. It was effectively blind to him as long as he maintained this feeling of calm and control. That was going to give him the edge in this battle.

Then, with one smooth thrust, he struck the oblivious
monster, the cutlass’s tips smoothly cutting into the weakened joint. It dug deep, past whatever passed for muscles, veins, and connective tissue. He hit bone then twisted, ensuring maximum damage was done. Its arms and legs thrashed about, one catching him and sending him crashing backward into a metal seed container. The seam ruptured, and yellowish seed spilled outward with a rush. Diaz winced with the impact but pushed himself upright, steadying himself while crunching seeds with every step. He then strode forward and struck again. Once more the cutlass cut deep; black ichor poured from the Ursa’s multiple wounds. With grim satisfaction, the Ranger glided back three steps, seeds snapping under his boots.

Diaz watched the Ursa writhe in pain, ignoring the unearthly wail. Instead, he reconfigured his remarkable weapon into a spear shape. He positioned his feet and then with both hands held it steady until the beast whirled about, its maw wide open. The cutlass went right in through the palate, frying whatever passed for internal organs and brain.

In its wild death throes, it knocked Diaz to the ground, and the hard landing knocked the wind out of him. He picked himself up and stepped back, out of range, as the limbs moved more and more slowly, until they ceased moving altogether. The Ursa slumped forward atop enough seed to have kept it sated for days. The seed softly continued to spill from the container, slowly covering and then burying the creature in a harvest shroud.

After the great beast was dead, Diaz exhaled and sat down on the ground next to it.

That’s where the Rangers found him less than an hour later. He was carefully taken to the nearest hospital where doctors checked him over, fed him intravenous fluids, and said he was exhausted and possibly in shock from the battle, but basically unharmed.

Diaz was discharged the following morning, brought back to Ranger headquarters by an honor guard of sorts. Everyone wanted to hear how he’d managed to
kill the creature, but Diaz wanted to tell the story only once. So he waited until he was standing before the squad commander. He entered his testimony into the record, calmly answering all the questions while his cutlass was studied, its telemetry used to corroborate the report. Not that he wasn’t believed.

He wasn’t the first Ranger to single-handedly kill an Ursa. Still, it was almost unheard of. The stuff legends were built on.

A week later, after he rested and was returned to duty, there was a ceremony to honor his accomplishment. The shiny medal gleamed in the morning sunlight as Diaz stood before dozens of his fellow Rangers. In the crowd he spotted Katya, who seemed genuinely pleased for him. There had already been memorials for the others—Tanger, Macionis, Varley, Telgemeier, and Minh—and he’d wept in their memory.

But now the Rangers could celebrate. At least two other Ursa had died, reducing the known population on Nova Prime.

He didn’t expect his parents to be there, still protesting his career choice, but it no longer made him sad. They did their job, he made his choices, and somehow he managed to blend them into a personal choice that had helped him survive an ordeal. For that, he was content.

Kevin Diaz stood there hearing Commander Isinbaeva repeat his tale and then shaking his hand. A moment later Cypher Raige, the Original Ghost himself, was handing him a medal. It was sometime after he made his report that his actions were described as ghosting, which he dismissed. But he was assured that his utter absence of fear had allowed him to turn invisible to the sightless Ursa. He was indeed a Ghost, the rarest breed of Ranger there was.

“Congratulations,” Raige said to him. “Welcome to the club.” Diaz had heard earlier that a civilian also managed the feat, so maybe there was hope yet that these beasts could be challenged and then eradicated.

He shook the OG’s hand and turned to the crowd to acknowledge their applause. Off to the side, halfway back, Diaz spotted Luis first, then his parents. Their applause was, to him, the loudest of all.

Kevin Diaz was at peace.

Mallory McGuiness lay on her back, staring uncomprehendingly at the twin suns of Nova Prime that were beating down upon her, and she wondered why it was that Private Lynch had suddenly turned into a mime.

She thought that perhaps she was dreaming. That would have explained a lot … hell, it would have explained everything. The sense of unreality; the fact that to her senses, Lynch was moving in what appeared to be slow motion. Lynch’s face was smeared with dirt and what appeared to be burn marks, and there were bits of dirt in his short-cropped red hair. His lips were moving, slowly and deliberately, but no actual sound was emerging. His eyes were wide with urgency and Mallory, for the life of her, couldn’t understand why.

Why is Lynch in my quarters? For that matter, it’s broad daylight … why was I sleeping during broad daylight? Where’s Janus?

In her bewildered, stream-of-consciousness flood of thought, Janus—her husband of four years—became the touchstone. Her thoughts locked onto him, as if she were being swept helplessly down a river and he was a jutting boulder in the middle that she was able to grab onto and find purchase.

No … we got up this morning. Janus shook my shoulder, woke me up. Kissed me lightly on the cheek. His beard scratched me. His beard grows so quickly that by morning it’s already non-regulation
.

I thought today was our day off. I tried to roll over and
go back to sleep. But no, he reminded me we had a patrol. No Ursa within the attack perimeter of the city, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Damned things turn invisible; you never know when they’re going to just show up out of nowhere. “Have to be vigilant,” he told me.

“Can’t I be vigilant later?” I said. I rolled over, tried to go back to sleep. I’d slept poorly that night. Kept waking up. Bad dreams
.

He slapped me hard on my bare ass. “We have things to do.”

“I know what I want to do.” I pulled him down onto me. We kissed deeply. His beard still scratched but I didn’t care
.

We made love for the last time …

What? What the hell does that mean?

Janus?

Jan?

“Jan!” Her voice croaked. There was a coppery taste in her mouth. She spit out whatever was causing it and saw a small wad of dark liquid—blood—land on the ground next to her.

I’m outside? When did I go outside?

“Mallory!”

She heard Lynch’s voice. It sounded as if it were coming from very far away, but Lynch was right there.

It’s not Lynch. It’s me. I can’t hear him. There’s a ringing in my ears. Why is there a ringing in my ears?

She tried to sit up and Lynch immediately shook his head firmly. He told her to lie back down and was saying something about help being on the way. It was hard for her to be certain. His voice kept popping in and out, as if they had a bad communications link.

“Jan,” she said again, with greater urgency this time. She tried to push Lynch out of the way, started to move her right leg, and let out a shriek of pain.

“I told you! I told you to stay down!” he said firmly.

Mallory managed to move her head, and she looked down in shock. There was a piece of rock buried in her right thigh. It was a jagged fragment with blood trickling
around it. She tried to reach down for it so she could yank it clear.

“No.”
Lynch grabbed her hand and immobilized it. “We don’t know how deep it is. It may wind up being nothing, and you’re up and around in a week. On the other hand, if it hit an artery, then the fact that it’s in there may be the only thing keeping you alive. You could bleed out by removing it. So we’re not taking a chance; we’re waiting until we can evac you out of here.”

“I don’t understand … where’s—?”

The Ridges. The Golem Ridges, beyond the outer rim. There was once a colony city there whose population the Skrel eradicated during one of their earliest assaults. It was never repopulated; instead it was left alone as a memorial for the fallen. Unfortunately, Ursa have been known to hide there on occasion, waiting for an ill-timed visit by someone making a pilgrimage to the site
.

So we sometimes head out there to make sure …

And it was routine …

Strictly routine …

Janus …

He was just walking along through one of the many, seemingly endless passages through the ridges, his cutlass slung on his back. I was walking behind him. The rest of the squad was spread out. All eight of us were in constant contact. No sign of an Ursa. No sign of trouble. No sign of anything
.

And then Jan’s foot—I think that’s what it was—I think he …

He stepped on something
.

I can’t remember
.

What did he step on?

He was there
.

Then he wasn’t …

“Jan!” and she screamed.

“I need some help over here!” Lynch was looking desperate. He tried to pin Mallory by the shoulders. She thrashed around like a lunatic as Lynch fought to keep her on her back. A second Ranger, Tomlinson, joined
him, trying to make sure she didn’t keep kicking and possibly dislodge the stone wedged in her leg.

The last thing I saw … this look of confusion on his face, and then this burst of light and flash of heat. And then I was flying through the air, my arms waving around as if I could somehow stay in the air by flapping. My back slammed into the upper edge of one of the ridges and then I toppled over. I went from being propelled to tumbling downward, ricocheting off another outcropping of a ridge, falling to the ground about twenty feet below. I went loose, protected my head, landed on my shoulders. The rest of my body struck the ground but I wasn’t feeling anything below my neck. I must have been in pain, but I didn’t feel …

Jan was smiling at me …

He was smiling down at me …

Our bodies were merged in bed this morning …

I would have liked to stay there, find an excuse to get out of the patrol …

But we both knew that wouldn’t happen. We are Rangers. We have duties. We have responsibilities
.

Jan? Jan, you can’t be—

The truth came crashing down on her, but before she could get up a true head of steam and start thrashing around once more, she felt a pinch in her upper arm. She looked frantically to her right and saw a woman wearing the colors of a Ranger medtech. The woman had a sympathetic look to her as she extracted the hypo from Mallory’s arm.

Mallory started to ream out the medtech with an outpouring of profanity. But instead all she could manage was a confused grunt, and then her head slumped back. “Hate you,” she managed to say. “Hate you …”

“There’s no reason to,” Lynch said soothingly. “We’re your fellow Rangers …”

“Not you …” Her voice was little more than a whisper. “Jan … for making me think … he’s dead … he’d never do that to me …”

And then she was in darkness. Truly alone.

She lay in her bed in the infirmary, staring blankly at Colonel Green. The rugged longtime Ranger was seated a few feet away, his face etched with a carefully neutral expression.

“A mine?” Mallory echoed what he had just told her, her voice hollow.

“Or some manner of unexploded incendiary device,” Green confirmed. “Left over from a previous Skrel attack.”

“But the last direct assault was decades ago.” There was no shock, no protest in the observation. “Unless I missed one.”

“No, you’re quite right. It landed, or perhaps was planted—hard to know for sure—and then through the years, the sandstorms that blow through Golem Ridge covered it over. And it just lay there, undetonated, all this time. It’s a miracle no one stepped on it before—” His voice trailed off, and he looked downward. “Sorry. That wasn’t exactly the best way to put it.”

“Why not?” She said it so indifferently, she could have been discussing a matter of simple academics. “It’s what we do, isn’t it? We Rangers? We work to keep our fellow Novans safe from the Skrel and the Ursa and whatever other dangers crop up around us. It was a miracle that no one else was hurt by it, just as you said. And because Janus stepped on it, he saved the life of … well, who knows who else? A family out for a picnic. An augur off on meditation. The Savant out
searching for inspiration that would lead him to some discovery that will improve the lives of millions.”

“Lieutenant—”

“Any host of people who would, almost by definition, be much more important than Jan. It’s a fair trade.”

“Mallory, listen to me. Take off all the time you want …”

Without warning, Mallory pulled aside the bedsheet to study her injured leg. She was naked save for the simple hospital gown she was wearing, and that had ridden up to around her hips. Immediately Green looked away, his cheeks flushing slightly. Mallory was oblivious. Instead she was studying her leg with clinical detachment. The thin line that marked where she’d been wounded was bright red, but the intensity of it was already fading. She touched it gently. “It’s amazing what medical science can do, isn’t it. You know, once upon a time they stitched people together like clothing. No sealants. Nothing like what we have now. It’s almost miraculous. Not as miraculous as a bomb waiting years for Janus to step on it, but it’s right up there.”

“Mallory, for God’s sake—”

She lifted the leg, extended it, coiled it so that her knee was almost up to her chin, and then stretched it out once more. “Wasn’t an artery, then?”

“No,” said Green. “It looked a lot worse than it was; the bone caught most of it. You may have a slight limp for a bit, but nothing permanent. You got off lucky.” She smiled mirthlessly. “My husband’s dead, sir. I don’t get to feel lucky.”

“Mallory—”

“You’re right, though. Feels fine. I won’t need any time off.”

Green stood up, took the sheet firmly, and draped it back over her to cover her. She looked up at him, blinking owlishly, clearly having no idea why he’d done that. “Mallory, this isn’t a request. You
will
take time off.”

“So I can do what? Lie around? Think about …” Her voice caught ever so slightly, but she managed to pull
herself together at the last moment. “Think about what happened? Think about Jan dying, not in battle facing a foe like any Ranger would want, but because of some stupid booby trap planted in the sand? The hell with that and, with all respect, Colonel, the hell with you. I should be out doing my job. And once the docs here sign off on my leg being one hundred percent—which they will, because they did too good a job to say otherwise—I want to go back out in the field.”

“You need some time to—”

“I need. To do. My job.” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “Sir … inaction is not an option. If you relieve me of my duties, I’ll simply go out on patrol by myself.”

“We’ll take your cutlass away.” The cutlass was the Ranger weapon of choice. A five-foot staff that could morph its shape into a variety of cutting weapons, designed for close-quarters combat … and particularly effective against Ursa at close range.

“Then I’ll get my hands on a pulser. And if you take that from me, I’ll get a kitchen knife. I will go out, Colonel, and I will do my job, even if I don’t have it anymore. Because if I just sit around and dwell on Jan, I will go out of my mind.”

“I’m not entirely sure you’re not out of your mind already, Mallory.”

“Is there anything I’ve said, anything I’ve done, that would indicate a break with reality?”

“Well, I’m not entirely sure you’re in touch with your emotions right now.”

“I don’t need emotions; I need my work. And I’m going to go out and do it. The only question is whether I’m going to do it on my own or in the company of my fellow Rangers.”

Green looked at her steadily. No words passed between them for some time.

“A full psych evaluation,” he said finally. “I don’t need some suicidal asshole out on patrol, endangering
the others in her squad because she doesn’t feel like living anymore.”

“Is that what you think?” She sounded surprised.

“I’m honestly not sure what to think right now. For all I know, you want to be with your husband and you figure that facing danger—”

“My husband’s dead, Colonel.” For the first time she sounded harsh, even annoyed. “I’ve never been much for religion. Or God. I don’t believe for a moment that Jan’s off on a puffy cloud somewhere waiting for me to join him. Dead is dead and there’s nothing after it. Life is for the living and I have every intention of continuing to live for as long as possible. And what I have to live for is my work. Don’t …” Her voice caught briefly, betraying for a heartbeat the roiling emotions she was dealing with. “Don’t take that away from me. Janus and my job are my life, and he’s gone and if you take me away from my duties, I really will have nothing. And the nothing will swallow me whole. Do you understand, Colonel?”

“I …” Slowly he nodded. “I think I do.”

“Give me all the eval you want. Have me run through the cadet training ground if you want. I’ll give you all the proof you need that I’m fit. All right?”

“We’ll see” was all he said.

She was on patrol twenty-four hours later.

The next two months were mind-numbingly boring for Mallory.

Some delivery routes bringing supplies to outlying areas that were supposedly along dangerous paths. And nothing happened.

Responding to skirmishes or brawls or arguments and being tasked with keeping the peace. And they weren’t even exciting brawls. The moment the Rangers showed up, everyone involved decided that it was smarter to shake hands and get along rather than deal with the Rangers dispensing their unique brand of hands-on justice. Certainly no one was enthused about the prospect of the Rangers hauling them before a local magistrate.

One easily solved situation after another. That was what Mallory was faced with, and she was beginning to fear that she would go out of her mind.

It wasn’t conspiratorial. Sometimes Rangers went through lax periods. Typically they embraced such times as welcome breaks, with the knowledge that all too soon, something catastrophic would happen to disrupt the temporary peace.