I gave him one last look before I managed a weak military pivot and left the cockpit.
//////// ENTRY 7
My training gave me a way through the fear. The key was to break things down into manageable steps. At least, in theory. I activated my naviband and asked, “Can you hear me, Dad? Over.”
“Copy.” His voice was clear and strong over the communicator. I drew strength from the sound of it.
Staring into the shadows outside the shelter of the ship, I pulled out the cutlass. It was the best tool I had, and I figured I would need to keep it ready. I tapped a combination on the handle, and it slid into a curved blade that nearly sliced into my lifesuit. Not the right combination, obviously. I only knew the basic configurations that Cadets use in training exercises. I had tried picking up some of the others from watching the Rangers, but clearly I hadn’t gotten it exactly right. After I retracted the blade, I tried another pattern, and it extended to its full two-meter length, with razor-sharp ends. At least this configuration I knew.
Stepping out, I heard the sound of small stones falling in the cavern beyond. I drew a deep breath as the ship’s doors ground closed behind me, then leapt down. The sight of Rangers dangling from their harnesses at the torn edge of the ship made me jump back. I stumbled, feeling like I might hyperventilate again. For just a second, I’d thought I could actually do this. But not one step outside of the ship and I was already losing it. This was never going to work.
Dad must have seen the spike on my vitals monitor because he said, “Kitai, take a knee.”
This again. When I was little, any time Senshi or I got upset, our dad always told us to take a knee. It was his go-to method for calming us down. My sister had seemed okay with it, but I always felt like it was a waste of time. But now, I felt so out of control that it was a relief to drop to my knee.
“I want you to take your time,” he told me. “Acclimate yourself to the environment. Tell me any and everything. No matter how inconsequential it may seem. Everything you see, hear, smell, how you feel. Over.”
Once again, hearing his voice made me feel better. Looking up, I saw a patch of daylight above me. “My body feels heavier,” I said.
“Very good,” Dad replied. “The gravitational pull on this planet is slightly different than at home.”
That was a relief. I was thinking there was something wrong with me, some injury we had missed on the ship. Or that now that I was faced with a real mission, I was freezing up, nowhere near as ready as I had assumed back home.
I reminded myself to stop freaking out and deal with the small steps that would eventually carry me to my goal. Looking up, I saw it was about sixty meters to the top of the ravine. Dad told me to get going. “Roger,” I agreed. Enough messing around. I couldn’t afford to give in to my fear, not this time. Not with both our lives on the line.
I began climbing the wall of the ravine, carefully searching out hand- and footholds. No problem—standard rock-climbing. I was good at this. Near the top, I glanced at my right hand to see a huge spider perched on it. I screamed, flinging it from my hand. Losing my balance, I slipped before catching myself with my left hand.
“Kitai! What happened?” my dad shouted. I heard the worry in his voice and felt ridiculous. I hated spiders, that was all. Maybe because with all those creepy-crawly legs, they reminded me of tiny Ursa.
Stabilizing myself, I asked, “You didn’t see that? I thought—”
But he interrupted. “What’s your situation report? Your vitals spiked.”
That was when it hit me that despite what he’d said, I really was alone out here. It wasn’t like having him with me. He wasn’t able to see more than I could, as he’d promised. This mission’s failure or success was completely on my back.
So I snapped myself back into control. “No change,” I replied. “I slipped. I’m good to go. There’s condensation on the stones. I’m fine.” I lied without hesitation, and he didn’t call me on it. Proving once again that he wasn’t the all-powerful Commander General I had always imagined.
I finished my climb to the top, pulling myself onto an elevated plateau. Despite the exhaustion that was already dragging me down, I was blown away by the view spread out below me. The sky was streaked with the purple, orange, and pink of sunrise. Eagles soared overhead, and hundreds of buffalo roamed below. The animals’ calls rang through the air. We had some of these creatures on Nova Prime, but others hadn’t survived there—those I only knew from history books, though they had clearly evolved since we’d been gone. I had always thought of Earth as a wasteland that we fled when it could no longer support life. Yet here it was, full of vibrant colors, scents, and sounds. I guess humans really were the problem. Without us, the planet appeared to have healed itself.
While I soaked up the view, my dad was planning my route. “There is an escarpment where two Earth continents collided. Looks like it could be a waterfall. It’s at about forty-five kilometers. We’ll call that our midway checkpoint. There’s no way you can return after that. We’ll assess rations and reevaluate when you get there. But let’s break it into sections. First leg is twenty kilometers to the mouth of the north forest.” Which reminded me that although I was technically out here alone, I was still lucky to have my dad there to oversee the mission. No way could I have come up with a plan like that. I memorized his instructions, since I knew my life would probably depend on them.
Glancing at my naviband, I saw that my holographic map also reflected what he had said. “Let’s take it easy. Set chronometer for one hundred eighty minutes.”
I didn’t see the point to taking it that easy, though. And yeah, I wanted to show him what I could do. “One hundred eighty minutes? That’s not right. I can do ten K in fifty minutes. You’ll see.” After checking my map, I started a light jog in the direction Dad had chosen. It felt so good to be running again that I added, “I might even do it in under forty minutes.”
When he didn’t answer, I slowed down, worried that something had gone wrong back at the ship. “Dad, do you copy?” More silence. I stopped, my concern growing. I knew how badly he was hurt. What if he had passed out, or worse? “Dad, do you read me? Over.” Again, nothing. Now I was panicking. How was I supposed to do this without him? I couldn’t. It was impossible. “Dad, do you copy? Are you there?” I was shouting now, desperate for some response. “Dad, I’m coming back,” I called, already running back toward the ship.
“No need,” my dad replied, his tone cool. “You just go ahead.”
I slid to a stop, relieved but confused. “Huh?”
“Seems to me that you’re in charge of this mission. And in my limited military experience, when two people are in command, everybody dies. So I will defer to your leadership, Cadet.” He didn’t sound mad, but I knew I was in trouble.
“Dad, I was just saying—” I protested, but he cut me off.
“What is my name?” he demanded. I stayed silent, unsure of what he wanted from me.
“What is my name?” he repeated, louder this time.
Shaken by his sudden fury, I replied, “General Cypher Raige.”
“And who am I?” he asked.
“Commander General of the Rangers.” My voice was barely above a whisper.
“That is correct!” he shouted. “And from this second forward, you will refer to me as ‘Sir,’ ‘Commander,’ or ‘General’! You will follow my every command without question or hesitation. Am I crystal clear, Cadet?”