“Is that what you’ll tell the generals who now have to salute a kid?”
“If they can make an appointment and get into this room, yes, that is what I will tell them.”
“I cannot abide the disrespect you’re showing to the natural order of things,” Kincaid said.
Lider had had enough. He rose and stared up at the younger, larger man. “The natural order was tossed out decades ago. We’re making every effort to preserve a tiny sliver of this world, and we need everyone on board, headed in the same direction, pulling their own weight. Pick your cliché, but I need to move forward and not waste time this world no longer has on rehashing decisions the committee made.
“Either support Raige or get out of the way.”
Kincaid let it all sink in and thought very carefully for maybe a second. “Fine, I’ll get out of the way. While you’re busy touting the kid, I’ll be tendering my resignation, telling the media that you have squandered the Rangers’ best chance for making a miracle happen.”
With that, the man stormed from the office, taking all his pent-up energy with him.
Lider sank back into his seat, realizing he wasn’t going to miss Kincaid. He was capable, sure, but he was far from a team player. What his former employee seemed to have missed was that, in Lider’s mind, Raige was Earth’s last chance for greatness.
Hours after his conversation with Velan, Kitai finally had managed to clean up his face. He felt as if it had taken him days. He kept staring into the mirror, and all he could see was a vision of misery and frustration. He knew he wasn’t wrong in thinking that, because when his mother had come home, she had taken one look at him and mutely opened her arms to him.
But he’d been ready for that. All he did was wave it off casually, as if the failure of his aspirations was simply another problem that would be dealt with in the course of time. Faia naturally did not believe that for a second, but she was stymied by his determined reluctance to discuss it. She folded her arms across her chest, stared at him for a few moments, and then said simply, “If you want to talk about it, I’ll be happy to listen.”
But he wasn’t interested in discussing it. Instead, after showering and dressing for his father’s arrival, he contented himself with staring out the window that enabled him to look out over the entire city. Many apartments within the structure had no actual windows. Instead, they had to settle for holograms that enabled them to see re-creations of different Nova Prime visuals. The dwellers there would swear that their view was better since they could change it at will, but Kitai was sure that they were just making excuses. Nothing was as good as seeing the real life of Nova Prime.
The twin suns were in the process of setting. This was
his favorite time of the day, when one sun was disappearing and the other was still in the sky. It dropped a gorgeous haze over the horizon and made him proud to be a resident of Nova Prime City.
Faia had arranged the food on the table already because she knew exactly how her husband liked things to be when he came home. She looked it over with satisfaction and then checked her watch. Her husband was running late. Her husband
never
ran late, and that was enough to tell her that someone
else
was running late and delaying her husband, and her husband was doubtless going to be complaining about it when he came home.
No reason she couldn’t minimize his reasons for complaining when he came home. “Kitai, care to sit?”
He looked away from his view of the city and stared at her in confusion for a moment. Then he shrugged inwardly. If his mother wanted him seated, he’d be seated. He took his customary chair at the table, smoothing out the lines of his jacket. As he did so, Faia brought out the actual foodstuffs. Some lettuce from her garden to start, followed by baked sartori, a cowlike creature that was native to Nova Prime and widely grown in farms around the planet for eating purposes. Not the cheapest meal she could have put out, but worth it considering that her husband and Kitai’s father had been gone for months.
He’s always gone for months
.
The bleak thought filtered through Kitai’s mind, and he hated himself for even thinking about it, because when he dwelled on his father’s lengthy absences for too long, he always started thinking about
why
his dad was away for so long. It could well have been the reason he always gave: business. And since his business involved protecting the people of Nova Prime, what was Kitai supposed to say in response to that?
I know the reason you’re never around. It’s because you can’t stand to look at me because I can’t cut it as a Ranger
. Yes, that would definitely go over well.
Faia seated herself across from her son and folded her fingers. So that was what they were going to do? Just wait for his father to show up? This was going to be unbridled excitement.
“Want to talk about it?”
“No, Mom, I really don’t,” he informed her.
“Okay.” She glanced toward the landing on the other side of the apartment. The veiled doors had been pulled aside, allowing a steady breeze to flow through. She licked the tip of her finger and held it up, gauging it. “Did you notice that? The wind shifted.”
He nodded. “To the northwest.” It wasn’t an especially exciting topic to talk about, but at least discussing the weather took the two of them away from matters that could well prove disastrous if engaged in.
Then they both heard sounds at the front doorway. Immediately Faia got to her feet. Kitai followed suit. He smoothed his jacket and said, “How are my lines?”
“Your lines are perfect.” She reached up and ran her hands along her face. “How are
my
lines?”
“Mom …”
She laughed lightly at that even as she moved across the living room to the front door. Kitai straightened his posture as Faia opened the door for his father.
Cypher Raige stood revealed in the doorway. He had two arms and two legs and his face was unscarred, so all that was good. He wore dress whites that only a Ghost could wear. His kit bag was slung over his shoulder, and there was some baggage behind him. Considering that Kitai only ever saw his father wearing his Ranger uniforms, part of him wondered what could be in all the suitcases. A
dozen
Ranger uniforms? Kitai had no idea.
His father was as tall and strong as Kitai remembered him. He had the same haircut as his son, with a triangular face and eyes that were cold and appraising rather than displaying any happiness over being back. That wasn’t unusual, really. It was hard for Kitai to recall a
time when his father genuinely displayed happiness over anything.
For a moment, neither parent said anything. Then Cypher tilted his head slightly. “Faia.”
“Hi.”
They didn’t kiss. They never kissed, at least not when Kitai was around. God knows, he’d never discussed it with either of them. He’d just figured that Cypher felt it wasn’t appropriate.
Cypher slid the kit bag off his shoulder, and his gaze shifted to Kitai, who was standing stiff and upright by the table. “You’ve grown,” he said. Cypher then strolled forward, walking past Faia without another word, and stood there in front of his son, taking him in. Assessing him. Kitai stayed right where he was, staring straight forward, arms at his sides, legs stiff. Cypher slowly surveyed him, walking around him and studying him up and down. His voice flat, showing no emotion whatsoever, Cypher spoke as he rounded his son: “Your collar’s ragged. You have a crease on your right pant leg but not your left. Fold crease.” He took a moment to glance toward Faia with a silent accusation that clearly condemned her for letting Kitai get away with such a sloppy presentation before he continued. “Your jacket is improperly fastened. Before you present yourself for inspection, cadet, square yourself in the mirror. Is that understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
Cypher continued staring at his stricken son for long moments and then finally allowed, “But this isn’t an inspection.”
It was, of course, Cypher’s attempt to let his son off the hook, or at least that was how Kitai saw it. His father reached over and gave him an awkward pat on the back. Apparently he thought that made up for the stiff and formal greeting, as if it were all some big joke. Yet Kitai couldn’t help but feel as if it were anything but that. As if he and Cypher both knew the truth of his criticisms and Cypher had simply softened it a bit to
make up for it and fool his wife. Kitai suspected that she hadn’t been deceived in the least.
Yeah. This is going to be a great night
.
It took Kitai a couple of minutes to help his father get his suitcases inside. Opting to wait until after dinner to put his things away, Cypher took his customary seat at the head of the table, and they began eating. He turned to Kitai and asked the question Kitai had been dreading all day. “So, how were finals?”
Kitai didn’t respond. He had no idea what to say.
The lack of response immediately prompted Cypher to put down his lacquered utensil. He appeared to know immediately that something was up. Having received no response from his son, he turned to his wife and said again, “How were finals?”
Faia had trouble replying. Clearly she was worried that she would be betraying something about which Kitai was sensitive. Part of Kitai almost prompted him to say nothing just to see how his mother would handle it, but he knew that would be inappropriate. He had to say it himself.
But he couldn’t look at his father as he said it. Instead, he became very interested in the potatoes on his plate as he said in a low voice, “I wasn’t advanced to Ranger.”
Cypher didn’t even hesitate. “Where do we look when we speak?”
Kitai shifted his eye contact to his father. “I was not advanced to Ranger.”
“You were not advanced to Ranger …?” Cypher leaned forward, waiting for the additional word that, clearly as far as he was concerned, Kitai should have remembered to say at the end. Kitai was so distracted that for a long moment he actually forgot. Then he recalled.
“I was not advanced to Ranger,
sir
.”
A long silence followed. Cypher simply stared at him, almost as if trying to recall who the hell he was. The quiet seemed to stretch to infinity. Kitai fought to keep his face impassive, as if he had simply relayed news
about a single poor test rather than a decision that seemed capable of destroying the rest of his life.
Then Cypher, to Kitai’s astonishment, shrugged. “That’s all right. You’re young.” And he went back to eating.
Kitai couldn’t quite believe it.
That’s IT? From the minute I left Velan’s office to now, I’ve been dreading your response, and all you do is say, “That’s all right, you’re young”?
He knew on some level he should be incredibly grateful. But instead all he could think was that his father, the great Cypher Raige, really didn’t give a damn what his son did or didn’t do.
Bristling with barely contained anger, he said, “I ran the canyon eleven seconds faster than you did.”
Cypher shrugged as if that meant nothing. “Well, if you were ready, Velan would’ve promoted you. He’s a good man. Knows his stuff. You weren’t ready.” He shrugged and cut another piece of meat.
That was it. End of discussion, at least as far as Cypher was concerned. The man who expected nothing but success from himself—the man who had exhibited endless support for his daughter during her time as a Ranger—was indifferent to his son’s inability to qualify.
Oh, well, maybe you’ll do better next time
. That was the range of Cypher’s response.
Kitai was left with nothing to say. Part of him thought,
He could have reamed you out! He could have done all the things you were afraid he’d do. Just be grateful and call it a day
.
There was indeed some merit to that. His father could have ripped him to shreds. Instead, he’d just taken it in stride. Kitai should have been happy for that.
Instead, all it did was reinforce his deepest, most secret belief. He was convinced that his father really didn’t care about what he did or did not accomplish.
Kitai realized he was staring at his plate. Nothing else seemed to interest him. Finally he announced, “I’m not hungry. I’m going to my room.”
Cypher’s response was deathly quiet. “Are you asking me or telling me?”
I’m telling you
.
“May I go to my room, sir?” He was already half out of his chair.
“Denied. Sit down.”
Kitai paused a moment, fighting the impulse to get up and walk away anyway. Hell, not just get up. Run. Maybe that would get a serious reaction from him.
Instead he slowly sat down.
Then Faia spoke up. Her voice was flat and even and filled with quiet rage. “May
I
be excused, General?”
Cypher turned and looked at her in surprise. He’d just been in the middle of disciplining his son, the failure. He clearly was not expecting his wife to intervene.
Nor did she wait for him to respond. Without a word she pushed her chair back, stood, and then walked quietly away into the kitchen. That left Cypher and Kitai in a horrendously awkward situation, the two of them sitting there in uneasy silence while the empty chair seemed silently to accuse them of screwing things up.
“You’re excused,” Cypher finally said.
Upon hearing those words, Kitai was out of there like a shot, leaving Cypher alone with his feelings and his meal.
The guest room. That was what Cypher had just entered. Indeed, if anyone had asked whose room it was, he or she simply would have been informed that it was the guest room, and that was all.
The problem was that both Cypher and Faia knew whose room it was. It was Cypher’s room. On the infrequent days when Cypher was at home, it was where—most nights—he stayed. Faia slept in their bedroom, and Cypher slept here. Cypher wasn’t even sure that Kitai
was aware of it. If a boy assumes that his parents are sleeping together, why would he question the idea?
Cypher finished depositing his bag in the guest room and sat down in a chair for a few minutes to regain his strength.