This time the weapon did what he intended it to do: separate into two parts. The fibers flattened out at the ends, making two distinct batons. Kitai swung his new weapons in every direction, figuring that would drive the creatures back. But it didn’t. They began charging and jumping backward, mimicking Kitai’s moves. Before long, they were picking up sticks and clubs from the forest floor and using them to mimic the two ends of the cutlass.
“To your rear, cadet! Out to your rear!”
Through his gathering malaise, Kitai recognized the voice as his father’s. He looked behind him and saw that there was indeed an opening. Using it, he escaped the circle of baboons and took off into the forest. But the creatures gave chase.
Kitai was feeling faint, but he couldn’t let them catch him. He slashed and darted his way through the forest, trying to shake the creatures from his trail. Still, it seemed to him they were getting closer.
No, he thought, redoubling his effort. Instead of running around the rocks he encountered, he ran over them and launched himself over long stretches. He began putting more distance between himself and his pursuers.
But they switched tactics, too. They took to the trees. And up there, among the thick, plentiful branches that blocked the sunlight, they were in their element.
He glanced back over his shoulder: The creatures were gaining on him again. They began snatching branches and large pinecones from the trees and hurling them at Kitai. And they were growing in number. If there were six of them before, there had to be fifty now, all swinging and jumping from branch to branch, throwing whatever they could find at him.
Suddenly, Kitai felt something hit him in the middle of his back hard enough to send him flying forward. But he didn’t dare go down or they would have him, and so he let his fall turn into a forward roll and came up running again. No sooner was he on his feet than he heard his father’s voice.
“Cross the river, cadet! I repeat, cross the river!”
What river? Kitai asked himself. Then he saw it up ahead. It wasn’t just a river. It was a torrent punctuated with gouts of leaping white water. It’s going to be hard as hell to get across, Kitai thought.
Then he realized: That’s the point.
Looking back over his shoulder, he saw the baboon creatures advancing through the trees. He took just long enough to secure his cutlass to his back before he dived headlong into the roiling water. As he swam, he saw the surface of the river explode with a relentless barrage of tree branches. But none of them reached him.
Unfortunately, he had to come up for air. When he did, the creatures unleashed another volley. But Kitai dipped down deeply enough into the water to avoid this one, too. Finally, he reached the other shore. Wading out of the water as quickly as he could, he cast a single glance back to see if anything was coming at him. Nothing was. Then he continued his frantic flight.
“Cadet,” said his father, “they are no longer in pursuit.”
But Kitai didn’t register his father’s words. He barely noticed that his lifesuit was its normal rust color again.
“I say again, they are not following you. Over.”
Kitai kept sprinting. He couldn’t stop. He didn’t dare.
“Cadet, you are not being followed! Kitai, you are running from nothing!”
There was a clearing up ahead. As Kitai reached it, he pulled his cutlass off his back and held it out in front of him. Then he made a 360-degree turn, prepared to fight anything in his vicinity.
“Put my damn cutlass away,” his father said. “Take a knee, cadet.”
Kitai forced himself to obey. But he still searched the edges of the clearing, looking for evidence of the baboons.
Cypher regarded the image of his son on his probe monitor. Kitai was wide-eyed, hyperventilating, frantic. The general had to get him to calm down.
Cypher rubbed his eyes. He was tired and getting more so. But he wasn’t going to let fatigue stop him. Suddenly he heard a beeping sound. Kitai’s vital signs… He checked the readout.
“Kitai,” he said, “I need you to do a physical assessment. I’m showing rapid blood contamination. Are you cut?”
His son didn’t respond. He looked shell-shocked, not at all like a Ranger cadet. Hell, he seemed like a child. And his lifesuit was fading to white. Not good, Cypher thought.
“Kitai,” he said sternly, “I need you to do a physical evaluation. Are you bleeding? Over.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, Kitai regained control of himself. Responding to his father’s command, he began to check his body. Of course, the evaluation required him to stand up, but when he tried to do so, he looked unsteady.
Off balance, Cypher thought. “Kitai?”
“I’m dizzy,” said the cadet.
“Check yourself!” Cypher insisted.
Kitai looked at his hands. On the back of his left hand there was something Cypher couldn’t make out at first. Then he zoomed in and saw what it was: some kind of leech. Or, rather, what leeches might have evolved into.
Repulsed by the sight of it, Kitai tore it off. But in doing so, he tore his skin. Instantly, a livid rash blossomed across the damaged skin. It can’t be allowed to spread, Cypher thought. It had to be tended to immediately.
As calmly as he could, he said, “Your med-kit, Kitai.”
His son snatched his pack off his back and fumbled around blindly in the med-kit. He looked worried. After all, he could see the rash, too. Kitai started to sway.
“I can’t stand up…” Still, he managed to open the med-kit.
In a clear, measured voice, Cypher said, “You have to administer the antitoxin in sequence. Inject yourself with the clear liquid first. Do it now.”
Kitai took the first hypodermic from the med-kit and popped off the protective cap. His hands were trembling.
“Dad,” he said, ignoring his father’s earlier admonitions to call him General or sir, “I can’t see.”
Cypher wanted to help his son, to administer the drugs himself. But he couldn’t. He was sitting in the cockpit of a ruined ship, his legs broken, and Kitai was too far away.
“The poison is affecting your nervous system,” he said instead. “Relax. Stay even.”
Kitai fumbled with the needle—not once but twice. He stopped, looked up, looked around, his eyes dilated and swelling shut. Cypher could see his son’s panic deepening. The veins of Kitai’s hand began turning black.
“Dad,” he pleaded, “please come help me. I can’t see! Please come help me!”
“Stay even,” Cypher said. “Inject yourself directly into the heart with the first stage now!”
Kitai took a deep breath, struggling to remove the top of his lifesuit. He couldn’t control his fingers, which he couldn’t see, and they shook from fear. He was running out of time and needed to do this quickly no matter how sick he felt. As he exposed his chest to the warm sun, it was hot to the touch and slick with sweat. He shook with increasing violence and just had to inject the antitoxin. It sounded so simple, but he was shaking so hard. Finally, he gritted his teeth so hard that they hurt, grimaced, and finally stuck himself with the hypodermic squarely in the chest. Then he pressed the plunger.
“Now the second stage,” Cypher said. “Hurry.”
“Your left,” Cypher told him. “To your left!”
Finally, Kitai’s fingers seemed to find the second hypodermic. But by then, his eyes were swollen closed. His hands shaking, he removed the protective cap on the hypodermic. Then he stuck himself with it. But he couldn’t press the plunger. His thumb looked like it was too swollen to move.