Somehow, Kitai was still alive!
Then, from the speaker nearby: “Dad… are you there?”
It sounded like Kitai, but Cypher was having trouble focusing. He felt like he could not take a deep breath, just shallow, rapid ones. That wasn’t good. Shaking it off, he looked at the monitors and then spotted a grainy image of his son’s face flickering on the screen. That’s odd, he thought. The signal should be clear. The shaking stopped as his son steadied the backpack’s built-in camera. It was Kitai for certain.
“Dad?”
Cypher didn’t respond, couldn’t respond. He lacked the strength. But his hearing was working just fine, and his son’s voice was most welcome.
“Dad, I made it to the tail. Over.”
The tail? Kitai made it to the tail? Was this more of the hallucination? He blinked. His son’s grainy face remained in place. The expression had gone from happy to serious as no response was forthcoming. Clearing his throat took an effort, but finally Raige said, “Are… are you okay? Over.”
“Dad? Are you there? Over.”
That was odd. He had heard his own words; why hadn’t Kitai?
“Kitai?”
“Dad, I made it to the tail. Are you there?”
Of course he was. Where else would he be without both legs in working order? “I’m here!” he said.
“Dad, please copy.”
Cypher tried one more time: “I copy.”
That seemed to work, and Kitai’s face looked relieved. “It’s Kitai. I made it.”
The exchange seemed to recharge Raige somewhat, chasing away the nightmare images. “There’s something wrong with the signal, Kitai.”
“… Dad.” Yes, the static was going to make this conversation nearly impossible. “Dad, you’re still there, right? Can you hear me? Over.” His son was looking on the verge of panic, and that would not do.
Raising his voice, hoping he could punch through the static by sheer will, Cypher said, “Kitai! I swear to you I’m here!”
His will failed him as Kitai repeated, “Dad, please. The Ursa is not contained. Do you copy?”
Cypher realized that while he could hear his son, Kitai was effectively deaf to his words. There was no way he could guide and assist the teen, which anguished the general.
“No,” escaped from Cypher’s lips. It’s hunting him. Frustration energized him, and a flat hand slammed the console, the age-old remedy for balky equipment. Nothing changed.
By the time Kitai made his way outside toward the already setting sun, the homing beacon signaled that it was ready for use. Even if he couldn’t talk to his dad, he could save him. He was still alive, and now he had the beacon. Help would be coming. Of course, there was some thirty-two parsecs separating Nova Prime from Earth, but still, help would save his father.
There was no use sitting in the tail section futilely trying to converse with his injured father. Instead, he clicked off the naviband he had retrieved from a fallen Ranger half-buried in the wreckage and put on his backpack. The clouds were thick, obscuring some of the sunlight, but clouds meant nothing to the homing beacon that would traverse the stars. Standing away from the wreckage, he held the beacon high over his head and activated the device. The rounded upper section rose from the base and winked to life. The horseshoe-shaped display indicated it was fully charged and ready to transmit.
Kitai took a deep breath—which still felt great—and fired the device.
He waited for confirmation that the signal had been sent but was greeted with silence. Lowering his arm, he studied the device, and right above the red light in the center were the words signal interference.
Within the forward section of the Hesper, Cypher watched the readouts and was disheartened to see the words signal interference flash repeatedly. He was frustrated and angered that this was happening, but while he had the energy and focus, he would be damned if he’d just sit there doing nothing to help. His fingers stabbed at the command controls near him, and a holographic map appeared. The dozens of flying probes continued to transmit signals that the computer assembled into a three-dimensional relief map of the topography where Kitai stood. He narrowed the focus and spotted a mountain shape just past the blinking dot that represented his last best hope.
Another adjustment was made, and the image was now that of his son. Kitai looked fit and whole, which pleased Cypher, but then he saw the boy throw his backpack away from him. He moved about, arms flailing and mouth wide open, screaming words Cypher could not hear. If anything, it reminded him of the temper tantrums Kitai had had when he was a toddler. Cypher knew he couldn’t stop the useless behavior even if he understood it, but he still whispered, “Take a knee, cadet.”
The words were not heard, and now Kitai was swinging the fully extended cutlass without grace. It was just blind rage and anger fueling him as he cut away pieces of the tail section. He whipped the weapon about his body and let it cut deeply into a panel that still had power, emitting a shower of sparks. He moved away and continued to shout and smack the ship and breathe hard until the rage that roiled within him had been exhausted.
Kitai lowered the weapon. Cypher watched in fascination as his son expelled the last of the frustration and, on his own, took a knee. Nodding to himself, the general was pleased. Wiping away the tears that stained his cheeks, Kitai needed a new plan. Something was preventing the homing beacon from working, and every minute wasted meant the sun was lowering, the Ursa was prowling, and his father was dying. He didn’t have time for such outbursts and felt bad about his behavior, thankful his father wasn’t there to witness it.
Satisfied that his son had regained control, Cypher focused on the problem at hand. The computer’s diagnostics confirmed his fears, and he said aloud to himself, “There is an ionic layer in the atmosphere above your current position. It creates electrical interference. That’s why the beacon isn’t firing.
“You must be above the ionic layer before you fire the beacon, Kitai.” Cypher knew his son couldn’t hear him, but he kept talking anyway.
Cypher watched helplessly as Kitai once more studied the homing beacon. The teen then looked upward, studying his surroundings, including the thick clouds.
“That’s it. You got it,” he said to the holographic image of his son.
“You should see a black mountain in the distance, directly to the north. The mountain’s peak is above the ionic layer. Fire the emergency beacon there.
“Please see it… the top of the mountain… to your north.”
Cypher stopped talking, exhausted. He silently watched the image, mentally urging his son to succeed. Slowly, Kitai continued to turn in a complete circle, examining the situation and forming a plan. Then he spotted the mountain, studying it for a long beat before rising and moving toward it.
Cypher felt tears welling up and blinked them away. “Good boy… Good boy…”
1000 AE
Earth
i
Kitai had broken into a sprint, heading for the higher mountain and a chance for success. He pushed aside his growing hunger and instead studied the black mountain. His studies had taught him that such markings indicated it was a volcano, simmering. Dad had warned him the planet had many active volcanoes, and so he was glad this one was quiet. Its rough terrain would give him plenty of traction, making the climbing easier. There were no animals or birds nearby, and that meant he could focus entirely on the target. His Ranger training was coming back to him, and he would show Velan and Bo and Rayna. He was every bit a Ranger.