“You need a minimum of three inhalers to make it to the tail. You’ve exhausted your resources.” There it was again, that utter calm, even though he was basically sentencing us both to die.
“I can get across,” I insisted. “I can do it with just two, Dad.” Just this once, I needed him to believe me—to believe in me.
“The mission has reached abort criteria. I take full responsibility. You did your best—you have nothing more to prove. Now return to the ship.”
I started pacing, struggling and failing to keep my emotions in check. “What was your mistake? Trusting me? Depending on me? Thinking I could do this?”
As if I hadn’t spoken, he replied, “Now I’m giving you an order, to turn around and return to this ship.” There it was, what I’d been trying to avoid: a direct order from my commanding officer. An order that I would not, could not obey.
“You wouldn’t give any other Ranger that order,” I said, pacing closer and closer to the edge of the waterfall.
“You are not a Ranger, and I am giving you that order.” I didn’t know if he was saying that because I was his only living child and he wanted to protect me, or because I was the one who had let his favorite child die.
Suddenly, I had to know, the one thing I had always wondered, every day since that day. “What was I supposed to do?” I was yelling and crying and I didn’t even care how far out of control I’d spun. “What did you want me to do? She gave me an order! She said no matter what, don’t come out of that box!” Catching my breath, I repeated, “What was I supposed to do? Just come out and die?” The water roared in my ears as I waited for the answer I hoped for, or the one I dreaded.
He gave me neither. “What do you think, Cadet? What do you think you should have done?” Again with that incessant, uncrackable calm. “Because really that’s all that matters.”
But that wasn’t true, not for me. His opinion was all that mattered, all that had mattered since the day my sister died. I had wanted him to tell me it wasn’t my fault, that I had made the right choice, that he was glad that I had survived. Furious at his refusal to give me that, even now, I shouted, “And where were you? She called out for you, she called your name! And you weren’t there, ’cause you’re never there!”
I stood at the very edge of the falls, staring down at the birds swooping through the mist. The water roared in my ears. “And you think I’m a coward?” I was sure that’s what he thought of me, even if he wouldn’t say it. “You’re wrong! I’m not a coward! You’re the coward! I’m not a coward!”
I took two quick steps and dove off the cliff, toward the water below. The ground disappeared behind me and I was in free fall. Arms outstretched, body floating downward—for one perfect moment, I was at peace. My lifesuit released fabric that stretched from my legs up to my arms, creating wings that let me soar on the winds. I had a moment to think that this might have been an amazing idea, instead of a terrible one.
But then my lifesuit turned black, just as I heard my dad shout, “Kitai, you’ve got incoming!”
Something struck me midair—a massive predatory bird that immediately circled around for another attack. “Kitai, dive! Dive!” I pulled my arms to my sides, legs straight as arrows, turning myself into a torpedo to slice more quickly through the air. Not fast enough, though. The creature’s razor-sharp talons flashed past my cheek as it slammed into me again and I heard my dad, one last time, scream, “Kitai!” This time, the force must’ve knocked me out. Because everything went black for a while, though I’m sure I kept on falling.
//////// ENTRY 11
I woke to the feeling of something pecking at my face. I brushed it away, opening my eyes to find a newborn baby bird, just under half a meter tall, nuzzling my face. Definitely the weirdest thing I’ve ever woken up to. I took in the crosshatch pattern of light through the tree branches that made up the giant nest where I sat. Yeah, I was actually in a giant nest, and more than a little freaked out.
The baby bird bleated at me, opening and closing its beak. I got the uncomfortable feeling that it was hungry, and that I had been brought back here to feed it.
Turning, I saw several eggs around me, all starting to crack open. More baby birds pecked their way out and unfurled their slicked-back wings.
As I backed away, I saw the massive mama condor that had knocked me out of the sky. The longer I looked at her, the more terrifying she got. She stood two meters tall, her beak razor-sharp, her wings when she opened them spanning over four meters.
Scanning the nest, I saw my torn backpack lying in the corner, my cutlass still attached. I snuck toward it as the other newborn creatures began climbing out of their eggs. Just as I reached my gear, I looked down and noticed a dark shape creeping up the tree trunk. I couldn’t tell what it was.
One of the baby birds toddled toward me, and I nudged it aside with my foot, focused on the approaching dark form. Another dark creature dropped from above, landing on the huge branch that supported the nest. My hands shook as I grabbed my cutlass and tapped in a pattern. It extended to its full two meters in length, a sharp spear point at one end, a flat blade at the other.
I raised my cutlass just as the branch began to shake. I saw the condor fighting a lion-like beast, which left me clear to escape. But then I saw more lions scaling the nest, and glanced back to the squawking newborns in the corner. I realized that I couldn’t stand to leave them, not so soon after watching them be born, not while they were under attack by a swarm of beasts. So I stood in front of them, cutlass at the ready. A lion reached its huge foreleg through the branches, its claws just missing me, but slicing through my naviband. Suddenly, paws were breaking through all over the nest. I saw claws connect with a baby bird. Under the force of the attack, the nest began to tear apart. I stabbed through the branches at a lion and the point of my spear pierced its fur.
Suddenly a large piece of the nest broke off, taking a howling lion with it. Other pieces fell too, leaving the interior of the nest open to the invaders. A lion crawled in and sank its claws into a newborn condor. I stabbed the creature’s arm and it recoiled, climbing back down. As more lions tried to crawl in, I spun my cutlass, slicing one’s paw and scaring off others. “Leave them alone!” I shouted.
The mama condor clutched a lion by its hind leg, flapping her broad wings as she dragged the squirming beast off the branch and into the air. Then she dropped it, and I watched as the lion plummeted to the earth far below. She did the same with another, but there were so many of them. One grabbed another newborn in its claws, and I rushed forward to stab the beast. It fell back over the edge, but it took the baby bird crashing down with it.
Now the condor and I were fighting off the last of the creeping lions. When the final one fell, I whirled, triumphant—and saw that not one baby bird remained. Only their shattered shells were left behind. The mama condor dove off the empty nest, and I thought she must want to escape the scene of the massacre. I couldn’t unclench my hands from the cutlass, still scanning the nest, searching for another attacker, hoping for some sign of life in the ruins. But there was nothing.
Finally, I shouldered my gear and climbed down the massive tree trunk. When I reached the ground, I saw the mama condor hovering over a few of the lifeless chicks. She raised her head and shrieked up to the sky, the sound ripping through the forest. I knew she was just an animal, but I heard the grief in her scream—it was the sound I would have made, if I could have, when I watched Senshi die. Before I slipped into the jungle, I watched the condor touch her head to her chicks, then lift her head and scream again.