“Dad?” I called over my comm unit. “Dad?”
“I’m here.” It sounded like I had woken him up, but he snapped quickly to attention.
I could tell he thought something was wrong, and I felt bad for worrying him just because I was miserable and bored. But since he was up now, I figured I might as well say what I had only now worked up the courage to ask. “How’d you do it? How’d you first ghost?”
I wanted to know so I could do it myself, of course. But I also thought that understanding this about him might give me a key to understanding him.
I expected him to tell me this was no time for stories, that I needed to focus on surviving and if I made it, maybe he would tell me. But he started talking right away, as if he’d been waiting for me to ask. It was probably pretty lonely back on the ship too. I hadn’t thought of that before now—I’d been so focused on my own loneliness.
“I went out for a run. Alone. Something we’re never supposed to do. Ursa de-camos right in front of me. I go for my cutlass. Ursa shoots its pincer right through my shoulder.” The way he was talking, it seemed like he was still there, facing the Ursa. I wondered how often he relived that moment. Maybe constantly.
“Next thing I know, we’re over the cliff. Falling thirty meters, straight down into the river. We settle on the bottom. It’s on top of me, but it’s not moving. And I realize, it’s trying to drown me. I’m thinking I’m gonna die. I’m gonna die. I can’t believe this is how I’m gonna die. I can see my blood bubbling up, mixing with the sunlight shining through the water, and I think, wow, that’s really pretty. And everything slows down, and I think, I wonder if an Ursa can hold its breath longer than a human? I look around and I see its pincer through my shoulder and I decide I don’t want that in there anymore. So I pull it out and it lets me go, and more than that, I can tell it can’t find me. It doesn’t even know where to look. And it dawned on me: fear is not real. The only place that fear can exist is in our thoughts of the future. It is a product of our imagination. Causing us to fear things that do not at present and may not ever exist. That is near insanity, Kitai. Now do not misunderstand me: danger is very real. But fear is a choice. We are all telling ourselves a story, and that day mine changed.”
It was an amazing story, but at the same time, it sounded like something I might actually be able to do. I thought it was time to change my story too. Maybe, like the Primus would say, this whole crash had a reason. Maybe this is my time to step up and become a real Raige.
I couldn’t fall asleep. I couldn’t stop thinking about what he had said. I wondered why he’d never told me before.
I keep talking, though, quietly so as not to disturb my animal friends.
//////// ENTRY 10
As soon as the sun was up, so was I. I was gathering my gear when I heard from my dad again. “Fourteen kilometers from the falls. That’s our halfway checkpoint.”
“Reading you,” I replied before beginning my trek, slow and steady, feeling the weight of sleep deprivation pushing down on me with so far still to go. I hacked my way through the forest with the cutlass, but it felt so heavy. I stopped for some water and ate a nutrition bar from my pack. I should have slept more last night. I could barely think, much less move, I was so tired. But I had to do both anyway.
“Seven kilometers from the falls.” Thanks for the update, Dad, I thought but didn’t say. Every kilometer I completed felt like a small victory, given what I’d been through already and what I had left to do. So of course I was keeping track of every single one myself.
Annoyed, I wadded up the bar’s wrapper and tossed it on the ground. Then I felt like a jerk. Earth turned against us because we treated it so badly, and here I was, on-planet for a day and already making a mess again. I grabbed for the paper, but it blew away on a gust of wind. I’d almost reached it when another gust floated it into a thick patch of vegetation. I plunged in after it, finally retrieving it. But then I looked up to see that the forest had been trampled, trees ripped down. Dozens of baboons lay butchered on the ground.
“What could do this?” I asked my dad. I didn’t want to say what I suspected.
“Double-time it,” my dad replied. “We need to make it to the falls. Hurry!” No argument there. I walked quickly beneath the forest’s canopy, looking around in hopes of spotting the attacker before it was on top of me.
An enormous boom! rang out, and I ducked, drawing my cutlass. “Volcanic eruption,” Dad explained. “Twenty kilometers east. You’re fine. Keep moving.”
A volcano sounded a heck of a lot better than an Ursa. I guess the increased volcanic activity is courtesy of the global warming we humans inflicted on the planet. I reached a steep hill and carefully tapped a combination into the cutlass. This time, the pattern did what I wanted, forming two picks that I could use to climb the hill.
I asked if there was anything behind me, and Dad said there wasn’t. But I heard something and froze, listening. It sounded like static in the distance, and I thought it might be the waterfall. That would be a very good thing.
“You’re close,” my dad confirmed. “Keep hustling.”
I climbed faster, digging deep, but the lack of sleep was catching up with me. Then I stepped out of the forest, pushing giant leaves aside, and found myself on a rocky ledge. I connected the cutlass back into one piece and snapped it onto my back. The sound of the waterfall was deafening. More birds than I’d ever seen before swooped and circled through the mist in giant flocks. We hardly have any birds on Nova Prime, and I’m fascinated by these graceful flying creatures.
“Inventory up,” my dad ordered, and I slowly unloaded my gear.
“Roger. Food rations: half available. Flares: full. Med kit: half available.” Everything looked good—except for the one thing I couldn’t survive without. “Breathing fluid…” I considered telling the truth this time. Maybe he could help me find a solution.
But I knew if I told him, he would order me back to the ship. I wouldn’t be able to disobey. And then we’d have no chance of survival. So I said, “Breathing fluid: four vials available.”
“Why are you not showing me the case?” my dad asked.
“What?” I asked, like I didn’t know.
But this time, he wasn’t giving up. “Show it to me now.”
I had no choice.
I held it up, revealing the two remaining vials.
I expected yelling, but all I got was silence. After a long moment, I couldn’t take it anymore. “I thought I could make it, sir.”
“Abort mission, return to the ship. That is an order.” At his words, I flashed on Senshi telling me almost exactly the same thing, right before she died. “Don’t come out, no matter what. That’s an order.” With the same order, my dad was forcing me to stand by and watch his death too. If I didn’t complete the mission, I didn’t see how either of us would survive.
“No, Dad, we—I—can do it. I can, I don’t need many. I can get across with just two.” I’d been through too much, come too far, to give up now. And I’d rather die trying than die giving up. At least if I was still out here, maybe I could make it to the ship’s tail somehow.