After Earth: A Perfect Beast (29 page)

But all he saw was the Ursa cutting through Wilkins and the others with appalling speed and ferocity. There was blood, so much of it that Conner felt his stomach start to betray him. There were silent screams of horror and pain. There were mangled heaps of flesh and exposed bone where there had been whole human beings seconds earlier.

I don’t get it
, he thought.
It should have worked
. The Ursa should have been dead, and the Rangers should all have been alive to celebrate their victory.
It should have worked
.

But it had gone wrong.

He remembered what Wilkins had told him the day of the war games about his talents as a strategist. She wasn’t one to throw around compliments. She had been impressed with him, with what he could do.

And what had he done? He had gambled with the lives of good men and women so that he could show everyone that he was right. And those good men and women, all of them experienced Rangers, had paid for his arrogance with their lives.

Suddenly he didn’t feel so talented anymore.

So what are you going to do? he asked himself. Wallow in self-pity? Or figure out what went wrong?

There was only one answer to that question.

There was no point waiting any longer.

If Lyla had had years to perfect her handheld F.E.N.I.X. weapon or even months, it might have been a different story. But she didn’t have that long, so she had to show the Savant’s deputy what she had accomplished so far.

Vincenzo’s image floated in front of Lyla on a holographic screen. “All right,” she said, sounding even more tired than the last time they had spoken, “what have you got?”

Lyla bit her lip and sent the file. “As you can see, I’ve addressed the areas you were concerned about.”

Vincenzo examined the contents of the file. She took her time, too, just as she had before. Finally, she looked up at Lyla and said, “This is better. Much better.”

Much better was a start.

“You’ve taken care of the shielding issue, though I didn’t think you could.”

Yes, I have
.

“You’ve put in more superconductors. And you’ve simplified the reaction sequence. Not bad.”

There was only one problem. Lyla figured it would be better to get it out in the open now than to give the Savant time to find it for herself. “There’s a glitch in the scythe function,” she said.

Vincenzo glanced at her. “What kind of glitch?”

Lyla wished she had found a way around it. She had tried several different approaches, but none of them had worked. Therefore, as much as she wished it were otherwise, there was only one thing she could say.

“It makes the device explode.”

Vincenzo’s eyes narrowed. “Explode?”

Reluctantly, Lyla nodded. “Completely. The fusion
chamber remains intact, but the metal components go flying apart exactly ten seconds after the scythe function is activated.”

“That’s some glitch.”

Lyla swallowed. “I was thinking that even without the scythe function, the device would still be useful. Certainly a lot better than what the Rangers use now.”

“That may be,” the Savant’s deputy said. “But if they touch the wrong stud …” She didn’t have to complete the sentence to make her point. “Can’t you just leave out the scythe function from the design?”

“It’s not the scythe function per se,” Lyla said. “The pressure is the problem. If it wasn’t the activation of the scythe that triggered it, it would be the activation of something else.”

“I see,” said Vincenzo. She didn’t sound sanguine about it.

If only Lyla had had more time. Or more experience. Or more … something. She knew the problem could be fixed. She just didn’t know how to do it yet.

“I can’t authorize the production of a weapon that might explode in the hands of the Ranger using it,” said Vincenzo. “Sorry.”

So am I
, Lyla thought.

Conner pounded the table and felt it shiver under the force of the blow.

He had gone over the satellite feed for what seemed like the thirtieth time, gone over every last detail from every possible computer-generated angle. But he still couldn’t see the flaw in his plan.

Norman had done exactly what she was supposed to do.
Exactly
. But the Ursa had detected her approach. Why? What had Conner done that she hadn’t?

He forced himself to keep his eyes trained on the screen, to keep on tormenting himself.
A hundred times
more, if necessary. A thousand
. He owed it to those who had died depending on him.

And then he saw it.

Conner pushed himself away from the table. He had sat there for so long that his eyes felt scoured with sand.
But it was worth it
.

He had been right.

His plan had been sound. It was just the execution that was flawed.
It wasn’t me
. He closed his eyes and heaved a sigh, feeling as if the weight of the entire planet had been lifted from him.
It wasn’t me
.

Not that he was celebrating. How could he when Wilkins and two other Rangers had died trying to carry out his scheme? But he knew now that he could follow the same strategy and make it work. And if it did, that first squad wouldn’t have died for nothing.

He would ask for another shot.

But this time, he wasn’t going to let someone else lead the mission. He was going to do it himself.

Conner stood in front of Tariq Lennon’s desk and waited for a reaction to his proposal.

“A squad,” said Lennon.

“That’s right, sir,” Conner said.

“So you can attempt to execute your plan again. Except this time you’re going to be the one giving the orders.”

“That’s correct, sir.”

Lennon scowled. “Forget it.”

Conner bit the inside of his lip. “I’m telling you, sir, it will work this time.”

“It was supposed to work the
last
time, and we know how that turned out. You made a mistake, Raige. Accept it and move on.”

“There was a mistake, sir,” Conner said, “but it wasn’t mine. It was Prime Commander Wilkins’s.”

“I see,” said Lennon. “Let’s blame it on the Prime Commander.”

“Sir, if you’ll look at the satellite footage—”

“I have. And there’s nothing there that makes me want to change my mind.”

“Sir, I’ve analyzed what happened out there step by step. I know what went wrong, and if I’m in charge, I can make it go right.”

“You,”
said Lennon, an unmistakable note of disdain in his voice. “A cadet.
You
can make it work where the head of the entire United Ranger Corps couldn’t.” He made a sound deep in his throat. “I’d heard you were full of yourself, Raige, but this … this goes beyond arrogance.”

“It’s not about
me
, sir,” Conner insisted. “It’s about getting rid of the Ursa. I can do it—if you give me the chance.”

Lennon shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. At least not on my watch. You’re dismissed, Cadet.”

Conner felt the anger building inside him, threatening to consume him. But it wasn’t going to do him or anyone else any good if he lashed out at Lennon. He clamped his teeth together as best he could and left the office.

As far as Lennon was concerned, Conner had gotten his chance and had blown it. It didn’t look like he would get another one.

At least not from Lennon.

By the time Conner entered the barracks, he already had made his decision.

As he went inside, he could feel the scrutiny of his fellow cadets. They had all heard about Wilkins’s mission and Conner’s part in it, and they all wanted to know what had happened in Lennon’s office.

But Blodge was the one who actually asked the question out loud. “Did you see Lennon?”

“I did,” Conner said.

“And what did he say?”

“He said he wouldn’t do it—not at all and certainly not with me in charge.”

“Did you tell him you had gone over it and you could make it work this time?”

Conner nodded. “It didn’t help.”

“But you killed an Ursa. Who else has done that?”

“Still.”

“That stinks,” said Blodge.

“It does,” Conner said. “Because now I’m going to do something my dad would have killed me for even considering.”

“What are you talking about?” Gold asked.

“Yeah,” said Cheng, “what?”

Conner scanned their faces. How could he ask them what he was about to ask?
For only one reason: the survival of the colony
.

“Lennon told me he wouldn’t authorize the mission. That’s not going to change. But there’s a lot more at
stake here than the Rangers’ chain of command. We’re fighting a war against the Ursa, and we’re losing. The only way we can turn that around, I believe, the only way to get the command center behind us is to try what Wilkins tried. Except this time do it right.”

“But if Lennon—”

“We’re not going to ask Lennon’s permission,” Conner said. “We’re going to do it on our own.”

He let his words hang in the air as their meaning slowly sank in. Little by little, the expressions of his fellow cadets reflected their reactions.

A handful were horrified. But not everybody. Most of them looked like they might—just
might
—be ready to hear more.

“Just to be clear,” Conner said, “I’m talking about disregarding orders. That’s not a trivial offense.”

“Damned right it’s not,” said one cadet.

“Rangers have been court-martialed for less,” Conner continued. “We’ve seen it happen.”

No one spoke out against the idea. But then again, no one spoke for it.

“Who’s with me?” Conner asked hopefully.

“Me,” said Blodge, raising his hand.

“Me, too,” Gold said.

Conner looked around. No one else seemed ready to make the leap of faith he was asking of them.

That’s it, then
, he thought. He looked at Blodge and Gold.
Three of us
. But with only three, he couldn’t do what he wanted to do. They’d be doomed before they started.

Conner’s heart sank. They had a chance to beat back the Ursa, and they weren’t willing to take it.

Then he heard another voice behind him: “
I’m
with you.”

Conner turned to see whose it was and found himself staring into the face of Lucas Kincaid. “
I’m
with you,” Kincaid repeated in case there was anyone who had mistaken his words or where they had come from.

Why?
Conner asked himself. Why would Lucas Kincaid of all people decide to back him up?

“Because,” Kincaid said, as if he had heard Conner’s silent question, “we can’t sit around and wait for the Ursa to wipe us out one by one. I’ve heard Raige’s plan. It worked once. It’ll work again if it’s carried out right.”

“You saying Wilkins didn’t carry it out right?” one of the other cadets asked. “The
Prime Commander
?”

“Not as well as Raige will,” said Kincaid.

It couldn’t have been easy for him to make such a statement, but he had made it. Everyone respected Lucas. Because of that respect, they seemed more open now than they had been before. Conner would be damned if he wasn’t going to take advantage of it.

“Remember why you wanted to be a Ranger?” he asked, eyeing each cadet in turn. “It wasn’t just to wear the uniform, right? You wanted to do something for the colony. Well, now’s your chance. The question is, what are you going to do about it?”

It wasn’t an easy step to take, not for any of them. It would involve repercussions—Conner had said so himself—even if they were successful. But to his mind, they didn’t have a choice.

He just hoped the others saw it the way he did.

Primus Rostropovich was in his sanctum, standing near the altar at which he prayed first thing in the morning and last thing at night. He regarded his augurs with a look of confidence but also disappointment. The disappointment was in them and in the people of Nova Prime, or at least that was what he intended to convey.

His disappointment with God he intended to keep buried deep within him. That was for another, more private, inner discussion. One that he hoped he could resolve to his satisfaction.

A dozen expectant faces were upturned toward him. The room was circular, and there were no chairs. Everyone
was sitting cross-legged on thin carpets, looking up at him and waiting to hear his words of wisdom.

Words that will ring hollow unless I make every effort to convey my belief
.

He stood before them, his fingers interlaced. “The attendance at this morning’s service was, to put it mildly, a disappointment. We had our few but faithful; that much is true. But I have been noticing a steady lessening of our ranks, and this is a bothersome development.”

“Maybe they’re being eaten.”

It was a sharp, angry comment from Augur Winton. One of the younger men in the order, he had a probing mind and was not afraid to ask difficult questions. Normally the Primus found that commendable; now, less so.

“Was that intended to be funny, Augur Winton?”

“No, Primus,” said Winton. “No, but I consider your attitude funny. We’re being ripped to pieces by the beasts. You want the people of this city to bow down and ask for God’s mercy and guidance, and yet we’re being eaten alive and God is nowhere to be found.”

“There’s another explanation for the dwindling congregants,” said Augur Theresa. “People are simply afraid to leave their homes. And who can blame them, especially when they’re being
told
to stay within. If that’s the case, there’s only one option: We have to take the word of God
to
them.”

“That”—the Primus smiled—“is exactly the sort of spirited attitude that I want to see from—”

“Are you
out
of your
mind
?” Winton was on his feet. It was a serious breach of protocol, standing up in the presence of the Primus in his own sanctum. It implied that the augur believed himself to be on a level of spirituality with the Primus himself, and that was blasphemous since the Primus was the holiest of holies.

It was obvious, though, that Winton didn’t give the slightest of damns. “Don’t you understand what’s happening? Don’t you see? These beasts have been unleashed upon us, and nothing is stopping them. Nothing.
There’s only three possibilities: God doesn’t care, God wants it to happen, or there is no God. No matter which of those is the case,
what the hell are we doing here?
”