After Earth (6 page)

He entered as the door closed behind him. Kitai stood at full attention, chin snapped forward, eyes leveled on Velan, who was seated behind his desk. Velan was glancing at some holographic material Kitai took to be written reports on his performance from the previous day.

“Your test scores were very impressive,” Velan said. “You’ve got a Ranger’s mind. No doubt about that.”

It was a huge strain for Kitai not to smile broadly. He had expected nothing less, and it was good that the Rangers who had been doing the scoring had seen that in him. It was indeed the only thing that had concerned him: that they’d be so annoyed by his determination and skills that they might try to sink him just out of hostility. He realized he should have known better. That was simply not how Rangers operated, and he would be sure to remember that—

“But I’m not advancing you this year.”

Kitai felt as if the world had suddenly slipped out from underneath him, leaving him in an endless headlong free fall. The words hit him again one at a time like stones, the two heaviest and most painful of which were
not
and
advancing
.

How was it possible? He almost asked Velan to repeat himself
—almost
. But somehow he stopped short of that.

He was so stunned that he did not even see the compassion in Velan’s face. There was no room in Kitai’s world for compassion. All he cared about was accomplishing his goals, and here Velan was calmly smashing them to pieces.

Everything else that he wanted to do in his life, up to and most important making his father happy, hinged on his becoming a Ranger. And here Velan was sitting there calm as you please after telling him what a fine Ranger he would make and informing him that he wasn’t putting him through? It was insane. It made no sense at all!

“You take unnecessary risks,” Velan continued.
Whether he was aware of the pounding shock and rage going through Kitai’s head was unknown to Kitai. In fact, it wouldn’t have mattered even if he had known. Velan had a point of view, and he was going to make it clear. “You are emotionally unpredictable. You have improper threat assessment, and you confuse courage with recklessness, which at the end of the day is just a far more dangerous way of being scared. You may, of course, try again next year.”

Try again next year?!
Spend another year’s worth of his time taking the same courses, the same preliminary tests, so he could wind up failing again?
This makes no sense! It’s ridiculous! How can—?

Kitai’s inner turmoil was, of course, of no relevance to Velan. Having delivered the news that had just destroyed Kitai’s day and possibly his entire life, the commander simply said, “Dismissed.” With a casual sweep of his hand, he pushed the holographic file with Kitai’s information out of his view and swung the next one out so that he could inspect it. He wasn’t even bothering to look at Kitai anymore. He had pushed Kitai’s information and achievements and life casually aside and moved on to the next cadet.

Velan looked up and blinked in mild surprise when he saw that Kitai was still standing right where he’d been, not having moved a muscle. There was no anger in Velan’s face. He simply appeared mildly confused that Kitai was still standing there.

Fighting the urge to hyperventilate and only partly succeeding, Kitai nearly shouted as he said,
“Sir! Permission to address the commander, sir!”

“Denied.” There was nothing condemning or judgmental in his response. He was simply a man with a lot to do, and he saw no reason to waste time in a pointless discussion with a wannabe Ranger.

It was as if Kitai didn’t even hear him. As if Velan hadn’t denied him the chance to speak because who in his right mind would do so? He proceeded to continue talking in the exact same volume as he had before.

“Sir, I am dedicated, have studied and consistently displayed conduct becoming of a Ranger, sir! I request that the commander reconsider his assessment, sir!”

Velan stared at him with utter incredulity. Disobeying a direct order, which Kitai had just done by speaking to him, was grounds for pretty much anything Velan wanted to do in response, up to and including banishing him from the Ranger program forever. In one shot, Kitai was risking throwing away the entire future that he thought he was fighting for.

Then Velan’s face softened just a bit. “I understand what it’s like to see someone die. I know what that does to you.”

Kitai stiffened. It was the equivalent of Velan smacking him across the face with a two-by-four. It stopped him cold, and Velan was able to continue uninterrupted.

“I’ve been your father’s friend for a long time, Raige. Your friend as well, although you may not know it. I know what the loss of your sister was like for him and you and your mother. And I know that you expressed no interest in being a Ranger until after her death. You’re trying to … no. Forget it.” He paused. “I’m not going to tell you what you think because you already know that. What I am telling you is this: You’re rushing your way into a situation that you are not, in my opinion, emotionally ready for. If I endorsed your moving ahead, it would be catastrophic, and your parents would have to face the rest of their lives with no children at all. I will not do that to them, and I certainly won’t do it to you. Do you understand?”

Kitai did everything he could to hold back the tears. He steadied himself, fighting to bring himself under control. When he spoke again, he had to fight to get out every single sentence. His words were of no relevance to the decision made as to whether he should be a Ranger. He knew that for certain. Yet they were the only words he had left and, in addition, the only ones that really mattered to him.

“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.

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 construction 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.