After Earth: A Perfect Beast

by Peter David Michael Jan Friedman Robert Greenberger

  “We’re coming,” Diaz said, finally spurred into taking action, leading Telgemeier upward.

  By the time they reached the roof, they watched as Minh, choosing to wait no longer, leaped across to the next building, where scaffolding wrapped two sides for maintenance. The Ursa didn’t hesitate and leaped after him, but couldn’t reach him through the metallic scaffolding. This bought the Ranger time to make it to the street.

  Diaz and Telgemeier didn’t hesitate, rushing back into the building and leaping down steps to make it to the street, hoping Minh would still be alive when they reached him.

  The Ranger had been successful, darting and weaving around statuary, abandoned carts, and even a well. The Ursa made a straight line, but Minh still had the advantage and managed to enter the granary without incident. The others followed close behind.

  Night began to envelop the streets and automatic lighting snapped to life, casting new sets of shadows. The squad followed the onscreen map and made a direct line toward the grain storage facility, which was a mammoth structure.

  The remains of a young man’s body were a ghastly signpost but the Rangers barely paused to study the corpse. Not far from it was a woman’s body. What they were doing outdoors staggered Diaz’s imagination, but they had clearly paid too high a price for ignoring the sirens. That neither of the victims let out a cry for help disturbed him and reminded him anew how stealthy the Ursa could be.

  Heat continued to radiate from the streets despite the cooling air, and Kevin found he couldn’t make himself comfortable. Gripping his cutlass, he forced his feet to keep moving, not letting Telgemeier get too far in front of him.

  Kevin turned his back on the pair, slowly circling the area, checking for movement. The empty streets refused to tell him anything, the air still. Two dead bodies and no one to mourn for them. That would have to come later. He wondered how many had been killed, how many Rangers died to protect a city. They had let two people die while he ate and that bothered him, made him angry.

  He looked over his shoulder before moving ahead.

  Within five minutes they had walked the perimeter of the squat building, seeing no obvious sign of entry. There was also little sign of blood—nothing to indicate the Ursa was actually there.

  Wearily, Diaz unslung his weapon and entered the granary. Its automatic lights had gone on when Minh entered so he could see the bins of various grains, most of which had already been processed. This entrance led into the storage facility, which gave Minh plenty of places to hide and confuse the Ursa. Telgemeier followed him inside, Diaz taking the rear position. His stomach rumbled a bit, seeking sustenance, but he had to ignore it and concentrate on protecting the people living in the vicinity. Isinbaeva had made it clear: people first, killing Ursa second. All he thought about was the bodies left behind.

  The first sounds they heard were of the creature gulping down raw, crunchy grain, making slobbering noises in the process. It had somehow entered the building and was stopping to chow down before killing Minh.

  “How could that thing still be hungry?” Telgemeier asked.

  “It could be they haven’t eaten in a while and are gorging. We have no idea how much they can eat or how quickly they metabolize their food,” Diaz said. “Besides, if they’re used to flesh and blood, grain might not be enough. They need a constant supply of fuel, like the reactors.”

  “They’ve been coming here for half a century and we still know jackshit about them, is that it?” Telgemeier said.

  “They keep evolving,” Kevin reminded them. “And these have been here for decades so who knows how long they live or how they have adapted to the environment.”

  “Thanks, Professor,” Telgemeier said drily.

  He pointed inside the building, showing an obvious trail the Ursa had left behind. It made a clear path, easy to follow.

  “Spikes,” he whispered. Both activated the configuration and within seconds the pair of cutlasses began to re-form themselves into trident-shaped weapons. Four points of entry certainly beat three and could cause far more damage.

  Kevin took several deep breaths, steadying his nerves, finding the will to move, forcing his weary limbs to carry him after the beast.

  Suddenly he found himself on point, the other Ranger at his side. Various grains he couldn’t hope to identify had spilled from their torn containers. Pipes, conveyors, cords, all manner of damage made the trail easy to follow. Every now and then ocher- and maize-colored grain was tinged a dull red with drying blood.

  What bothered Kevin the most was that he could not hear the Ursa.

  “Shh!” he said. He’d heard something and paused, waiting to hear it again. There it was, grain shifting, as if moved by a four-legged monstrosity. With the cutlass, he pointed in a southwest direction. His partner, bathed in sweat, nodded, going silent.

  The Ursa hadn’t bothered to camouflage itself, just tore open the top of a grain bin and began shoveling food into its maw. The creature glistened, light reflecting off the exposed smart metal that was fused to the tough hide, making it an ideal target. Diaz spread his right-hand fingers wide, signaling Telgemeier to fan out, surrounding the vast bin. He remained fixed in place, the cutlass thrumming with energy.

  Minh was still nowhere in sight, and it was too risky to use the radio. Telgemeier went right while Diaz headed left and then began climbing atop other bins, gaining an advantage over the seemingly oblivious creature. He was halfway up when the creature stopped eating and raised its head. It had smelled or heard or sensed them. Kevin was still uncertain how it functioned, but the Ursa knew it was no longer alone. Maybe it had caught Minh’s scent again, Diaz thought.

  The Ursa leaped forward and rushed toward wherever Minh was hiding. Diaz and Telgemeier trotted after it, their trident-shaped cutlasses at the ready. Up ahead, Diaz could see Minh panicking, climbing high atop one bin, seeking the next, foolishly hoping to outclimb the beast. The Ursa was pulling ahead of the Ranger duo and gaining on its target.

  Minh’s cutlass slashed at the leaping Ursa, but its momentum was too great and it fell upon the Ranger. The Ursa easily jumped to the ground, dragging Minh down, its forelegs literally pinning the Ranger. Minh screamed in pain and kicked with his free legs, but the creature lowered itself, dripping that vile black liquid onto his face, pouring it into his sputtering mouth. The black globules burned and hissed, a form of poisonous acid that corroded his skin almost on contact.

  Diaz knew Minh was a dead man so he aimed and watched as Telgemeier hurled the cutlass at the creature, hoping the momentum would aid in cutting deep into the alien threat. The cutlass did pierce the skin but not anywhere near as deeply as hoped. The wounded Ursa snarled and turned on the now-unarmed Telgemeier. That it abandoned Minh meant he was dead.

  It wasn’t hurt enough to slow down for Telgemeier, who was screaming something at the beast when he was cut off mid-yell as his head was separated from his neck with a swipe.

  A fresh roar and the Ursa leaped away, skittering away from bin to bin, deep into the recesses of the storage building. The thought of just how much more dangerous a wounded Ursa could be frightened Diaz.

  He was breathing hard, his heart pounding in his chest, and the blood rushing loud enough to cloud his hearing. Just like that, his team was decimated and he was the last man standing. He had no idea when the reinforcements would arrive but he also knew he had to contain the Ursa so it wouldn’t escape or harm anyone else. He might die in the process … but he was kidding himself. Of course he was going to die. The Ranger had to admit he was just stalling the creature until help turned up.

  The Ursa no doubt shared a trait with Nova Prime’s animal life: A wounded animal was a dangerous animal. They’d nicked it enough that it was probably in pain. Once it mastered its pain, it was likely to come seeking revenge.

  Diaz needed to hide.

  He gingerly moved away from the corpses and spilled grain in search of refuge. With slow, deliberate steps, he moved between the towering vats of
grain waiting to be processed. Then he scanned the area and spotted a maintenance closet. It had a heavy metal door and might provide enough safety until help arrived. It wasn’t a cowardly act, but a smart one, staying alive until the odds could be turned in the Rangers’ favor. Right now, Diaz was simply Ursa Chow, and that helped no one.

  He couldn’t hear the Ursa and knew opening that door might tip off his position, but he was tired and worn enough to take the risk. Thankfully they had done a good job of upkeep with the maintenance door so it did not make a sound, swiveling open soundlessly. Locking it, though, made noise, but by then he didn’t care. He was inside. He was safe.

  Only then did Diaz let the events of the past few hours wash over him. Tears freely rolled down his cheeks, and his body convulsed with emotion. All the training in the world could not possibly have prepared him for this sort of action. The Ursa were the stuff of nightmares, children’s stories, and horror vids for the masses. Sure, everyone knew they were out there, somewhere; it added to the stories’ sense of danger.

  But here, in town, killing with abandon—that was beyond imagining.

  He was going to die and his parents would be so disappointed in him. His thoughts began to drift past the fighting to earlier, happier days. Kevin was suddenly reliving his youth when the family gathered to practice meditation, seeking tranquility. Mom’s and Dad’s voices played in his mind. The sureness in their philosophy, the utter sense of calm that surrounded them. They were happy days, he realized, ones shared by the extended family. Aunts, uncles, cousins all joined in during holidays and birthday celebrations. No one fought, no one argued, and the joy was palpable. The elders ascribed their prolonged lives to the simple way they lived. Diaz wished his future included a long life but he now doubted it.

  Diaz continued to let his mind drift back through the years, before Luis came to his defense. He recalled the lessons his father and mother reinforced at every opportunity. Simple phrases, simple exercises, simple life.

  Before long, Diaz realized his breathing had slowed and deepened. He was reflexively exercising the controlled breathing that was a part of his training all those years ago. The whirl of horrific images that filled his mind’s eye had vanished, replaced with happier days. He felt himself smiling, the tears drying on his face. He concentrated on his parents’ faces, playing with his brother, emblematic of the life he so desperately wanted to preserve.

  A wave of calm washed over Diaz, flushing away the fatigue, hunger, and emotional pain he had felt the last few hours. Despite hearing the Ursa moving about nearby, seeking him out, Diaz realized the lessons had value. They refreshed him, centered him. This was his place in the natural order of life and he felt composed. At peace. Should he die right now, he would do so content that he had tried his best, honoring all life. Maybe not the same way his parents and ancestors did, but cherishing life in all its ways.

  Without realizing it, he emerged from the closet, moving with soft steps toward the great engine of destruction. It didn’t hear him, didn’t sense him. The Ursa didn’t even appear to hear the powered cutlass, still in its trident form.

  Diaz stood in place, studying the creature’s movements with fresh eyes. It moved more slowly, one limb definitely out of sync with the rest of the body. That was his target, the weak spot he had been seeking to finish the job his fellow Rangers started.

  Step-by-step, Diaz drew closer, and still the Ursa remained unaware. For his part the Ranger felt unafraid, supremely confident that he would complete his task. Dead or alive, he was a part of Nova Prime, and it a part of him.

  He smiled a warm smile. There was a silly, blissful feeling he maintained as he reared his right arm back, planting his feet. He felt no fear now, nothing for the Ursa’s hypersenses to lock onto. It was effectively blind to him as long as he maintained this feeling of calm and control. That was going to give him the edge in this battle.

  Then, with one smooth thrust, he struck the oblivious monster, the cutlass’s tips smoothly cutting into the weakened joint. It dug deep, past whatever passed for muscles, veins, and connective tissue. He hit bone then twisted, ensuring maximum damage was done. Its arms and legs thrashed about, one catching him and sending him crashing backward into a metal seed container. The seam ruptured, and yellowish seed spilled outward with a rush. Diaz winced with the impact but pushed himself upright, steadying himself while crunching seeds with every step. He then strode forward and struck again. Once more the cutlass cut deep; black ichor poured from the Ursa’s multiple wounds. With grim satisfaction, the Ranger glided back three steps, seeds snapping under his boots.

  Diaz watched the Ursa writhe in pain, ignoring the unearthly wail. Instead, he reconfigured his remarkable weapon into a spear shape. He positioned his feet and then with both hands held it steady until the beast whirled about, its maw wide open. The cutlass went right in through the palate, frying whatever passed for internal organs and brain.

  In its wild death throes, it knocked Diaz to the ground, and the hard landing knocked the wind out of him. He picked himself up and stepped back, out of range, as the limbs moved more and more slowly, until they ceased moving altogether. The Ursa slumped forward atop enough seed to have kept it sated for days. The seed softly continued to spill from the container, slowly covering and then burying the creature in a harvest shroud.

  After the great beast was dead, Diaz exhaled and sat down on the ground next to it.

  That’s where the Rangers found him less than an hour later. He was carefully taken to the nearest hospital where doctors checked him over, fed him intravenous fluids, and said he was exhausted and possibly in shock from the battle, but basically unharmed.

  Diaz was discharged the following morning, brought back to Ranger headquarters by an honor guard of sorts. Everyone wanted to hear how he’d managed to kill the creature, but Diaz wanted to tell the story only once. So he waited until he was standing before the squad commander. He entered his testimony into the record, calmly answering all the questions while his cutlass was studied, its telemetry used to corroborate the report. Not that he wasn’t believed.

  He wasn’t the first Ranger to single-handedly kill an Ursa. Still, it was almost unheard of. The stuff legends were built on.

  A week later, after he rested and was returned to duty, there was a ceremony to honor his accomplishment. The shiny medal gleamed in the morning sunlight as Diaz stood before dozens of his fellow Rangers. In the crowd he spotted Katya, who seemed genuinely pleased for him. There had already been memorials for the others—Tanger, Macionis, Varley, Telgemeier, and Minh—and he’d wept in their memory.

  But now the Rangers could celebrate. At least two other Ursa had died, reducing the known population on Nova Prime.

  He didn’t expect his parents to be there, still protesting his career choice, but it no longer made him sad. They did their job, he made his choices, and somehow he managed to blend them into a personal choice that had helped him survive an ordeal. For that, he was content.

  Kevin Diaz stood there hearing Commander Isinbaeva repeat his tale and then shaking his hand. A moment later Cypher Raige, the Original Ghost himself, was handing him a medal. It was sometime after he made his report that his actions were described as ghosting, which he dismissed. But he was assured that his utter absence of fear had allowed him to turn invisible to the sightless Ursa. He was indeed a Ghost, the rarest breed of Ranger there was.

  “Congratulations,” Raige said to him. “Welcome to the club.” Diaz had heard earlier that a civilian also managed the feat, so maybe there was hope yet that these beasts could be challenged and then eradicated.

  He shook the OG’s hand and turned to the crowd to acknowledge their applause. Off to the side, halfway back, Diaz spotted Luis first, then his parents. Their applause was, to him, the loudest of all.

  Kevin Diaz was at peace.

  I

  Mallory McGuiness lay on her back, staring uncomprehendingly at the twin suns of Nova Prime that were beating down upon her,
and she wondered why it was that Private Lynch had suddenly turned into a mime.

  She thought that perhaps she was dreaming. That would have explained a lot … hell, it would have explained everything. The sense of unreality; the fact that to her senses, Lynch was moving in what appeared to be slow motion. Lynch’s face was smeared with dirt and what appeared to be burn marks, and there were bits of dirt in his short-cropped red hair. His lips were moving, slowly and deliberately, but no actual sound was emerging. His eyes were wide with urgency and Mallory, for the life of her, couldn’t understand why.

  Why is Lynch in my quarters? For that matter, it’s broad daylight … why was I sleeping during broad daylight? Where’s Janus?

  In her bewildered, stream-of-consciousness flood of thought, Janus—her husband of four years—became the touchstone. Her thoughts locked onto him, as if she were being swept helplessly down a river and he was a jutting boulder in the middle that she was able to grab onto and find purchase.

  No … we got up this morning. Janus shook my shoulder, woke me up. Kissed me lightly on the cheek. His beard scratched me. His beard grows so quickly that by morning it’s already non-regulation.

  I thought today was our day off. I tried to roll over and go back to sleep. But no, he reminded me we had a patrol. No Ursa within the attack perimeter of the city, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Damned things turn invisible; you never know when they’re going to just show up out of nowhere. “Have to be vigilant,” he told me.

  “Can’t I be vigilant later?” I said. I rolled over, tried to go back to sleep. I’d slept poorly that night. Kept waking up. Bad dreams.

  He slapped me hard on my bare ass. “We have things to do.”

  “I know what I want to do.” I pulled him down onto me. We kissed deeply. His beard still scratched but I didn’t care.

  We made love for the last time …

  What? What the hell does that mean?