After Earth: A Perfect Beast (31 page)

He had been named Primus for his depth of spirit, for the generosity of his soul. But he wasn’t feeling especially generous at the moment. In fact, he was feeling downright cruel.

“Me?” he said in answer to the Ranger’s question. “I would presume to do no such thing. As you say, you were there and I was not.”

He left Marta Lemov sitting there, wallowing in her guilt—and incapable of doing anything about it.

Conner was sleeping, grabbing as much rest as he could before his next assignment—whatever it was—when he felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up, he found Commander Hātu
r
i looking down at him.

“We need to talk,” Hātu
r
i said.

That’s it. I’m going to be court-martialed
. Conner was ready to pay that price.

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, he pulled on a clean uniform
and followed Hātu
r
i into the command center. When they got to Wilkins’s office, the commander closed the door.

“At ease,” he said.

Conner was grateful. It was hard standing at attention when his muscles were so sore. “Permission to speak, sir?”

“Go ahead,” said Hātu
r
i.

“What I did,” Conner said, “I did on my own. The others … they shouldn’t be held accountable. I convinced them to come along.”

“So the responsibility is all yours.”

“Yes, sir. All mine.”

Hātu
r
i harrumphed. “Exactly what I thought you’d say. Which is why I woke you in the middle of the night. You see, I need help, and you’re the one who can give it to me.”

Conner didn’t understand. “Help, sir?”

The commander nodded. “I’m no Prime Commander, Cadet Raige. Never was, never will be. I’m great at putting out fires, getting things done here and there. But I’d be lying if I said I was cut out to be the brains behind the operation.”

Conner had always imagined otherwise. Who was more efficient than Elias Hātu
r
i? He’d been Wilkins’s right-hand man.

“I mean, I could take over for the Prime Commander. I
could
. And if we weren’t in such a bind, I guess I would. But even then I’d be exposed as someone who’s better at taking orders than giving them, at least at this level.

“But
you
 … you’re the real deal. A leader if ever I saw one, maybe even better than your dad. You should be the Prime Commander, no doubt about it.”

Conner wondered if he was dreaming. “Me, sir?”

“You.”

“The Prime Commander?”

“That’s right. In fact, I’ve got half a mind to recommend it. On the other hand, you’re only … what? Eighteen?
People wouldn’t see in you what I see. All they’d think about is your age, and then they’d tell me I was crazy.”

I might be one of them
, Conner reflected.

“So here’s what I’m going to do,” Hātu
r
i said. He leaned forward. “I’m going to take the job of Prime Commander. Officially, that is. But I’m going to lean on you, if you know what I mean. I’m going to lean as hard as I can. That all right as far as you’re concerned?”

“It’s fine,” Conner told him.

“I had a feeling you’d say that. But before you answer, I want you to know what I mean by
lean
. I’m not talking about a little counseling. I’m talking about you taking charge in every way that matters—including dealing with the Primus and the Savant. You still want to say it’s fine?”

Conner took a deep breath. It was insane for Hātu
r
i to place such a huge responsibility on him. No question. But at the same time, he knew he could do it.

He had felt what it was like to lead. He had been successful. And he knew somehow that he could be successful at what Hātu
r
i was asking as well.

Conner nodded. “I’m your man, sir.”

Conner sat forward in Prime Commander Wilkins’s chair, his elbows planted firmly on the desk in front of him.
No
, he thought;
too eager
. He leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest.
No, too complacent
.

Somewhere in between, then
, he thought. He tried to achieve such a position, but it felt awkward. Then again,
any
position was going to feel awkward to him.

He wasn’t used to even
attending
meetings with people outside the ranks of the Rangers, much less
conducting
such meetings. And it wasn’t just any two people he had asked to join him in the Prime Commander’s office.

It was the two most important people in the colony.

As he thought that, Blodge opened the door and walked in. “They’re here,” he said.

Conner nodded. “See them in.”

Blodge smiled and said, “Good luck.” Then he went back outside.

A moment later, Conner’s guests arrived. They walked in one right after the other, first the Savant and then the Primus. The Savant finished a remark to the Primus that he evidently had begun outside.

Conner had seen the two of them many times, especially the Primus. But he had never spoken to them in person.

Until now
.

“Thank you for coming,” he said.

They looked past him. Clearly, they had been expecting
to see Hātu
r
i. “Where is the Prime Commander?” the Primus asked.

Up close he looked heavier than he did from a distance, thicker around the middle, though his robe did a decent job of concealing it. And his skin, pale for the most part, was a blotchy red in places, something else Conner hadn’t noticed before.

“The Prime Commander has work to do,” Conner said in as even a tone as he could manage.

Flint scowled. “No more than I do. Is he on his way?”

“No,” Conner answered. “I’m here instead.”

The Primus smiled. “Very amusing, my child. But we’re busy people, as you can imagine. Is the Prime Commander coming or is he not?”

“He didn’t ask you to come,” said Conner. “I did.”

“The message was from the Prime Commander’s office,” the Savant insisted.

“I know,” Conner said. “I sent it.”

The Primus’s expression stiffened. “I didn’t come here to meet with a cadet.”

“Nor did I,” said the Savant Flint.

“I don’t know about you,” the Primus said to Flint, “but I’m leaving.” He eyed Conner. “If the Prime Commander wants to see me—at my convenience—he can make an appointment with my clerk.”

The Savant looked ready to go as well.

Conner saw his initiative falling apart before his eyes. Without the support of the Primus and the Savant, he wouldn’t be able to accomplish a thing.

He got to his feet. “If you’re smart,” he said, “you’ll sit down.”

Both the Primus and the Savant looked shocked, but only for a moment. Then the Savant said in a voice as cold as ice, “To whom do you think you’re speaking?”

Conner didn’t flinch under the Savant’s scrutiny. “I
thought
I was speaking with two of the people entrusted with looking out for this colony, people capable of putting their egos aside for the good of Nova Prime.”

He expected the Savant’s jaw to drop. It didn’t. “Those
are big words,” he said. Then something changed in his expression. “Raige, isn’t it?”

He nodded, grateful that the Savant, at least, had recognized him. “Conner Raige.”

The Primus’s eyes narrowed. Apparently, he knew the name as well, if not the face. But if his continued scrutiny was any indication, he was starting to pick up on the family resemblance.

The Savant chuckled. “Only a Raige would have the nerve to sit in the Prime Commander’s chair before he even became a full-fledged Ranger.”

“Things have changed,” Conner told him. “They’ve had to. Prime Commander Wilkins is dead. So are more than seventy percent of the Rangers.”

“So you’ve staged a coup,” said the Primus, making no effort to hide his disdain.

“Not at all,” Conner said. “I haven’t displaced anyone. I’ve got the support of all our highest-ranking officers, Commander Hātu
r
i among them.”

“Which doesn’t make it any less of a coup,” the Primus insisted.

“Look,” Conner said, “we can argue legalities here or we can put our energies into something constructive.”

“I’m not engaging in ‘something constructive’ with a
child
,” said the Primus.

“Do you want to survive the Ursa?” Conner asked him. “Because the only way you’re going to do that is if we work together.”

“The Ursa,” said the Primus, lifting his chin as if addressing his congregation, “are a sign of something greater than humanity in the universe, something granted superior power by the One who is
most
powerful. The majority of my fellow colonists seemed to believe that we would remain preeminent forever. But those of us who have taken the time to think about such things have always known that we would eventually encounter a species we couldn’t master, a species we couldn’t control—and now we have. It’s prideful to think that the outcome of this encounter is in our hands. If we on
Nova Prime are
meant
to survive, we will do so. If not …” He shrugged.

Conner turned to the Savant. “Do you feel the same way?” he asked, rooting desperately for the answer to be “no.”

“In terms of the wisdom of following an eighteen-year-old?” said the Savant. “Absolutely—no matter what he’s accomplished.” He glanced at the Primus. “But not in terms of our survival. As the Primus knows, I believe that our fate is squarely in our hands.”

The Primus harrumphed. “Of course you do.”

Conner was glad that the Primus had said what he’d said. The more he pushed the Savant away, the easier it would be for Conner to win him over.

Besides, the Savant was devoted to logic—he had to be—and so was Conner. His initiative was based on a scientific approach: observation and the testing of hypotheses. The Primus, in contrast, saw only what his faith allowed him to see. And the more pronounced his resignation to the colony’s fate was, the more eager the Savant would be to find an alternative.

At least, that was Conner’s
hope
.

The Savant eyed him. “Talk. I’m listening.”

Inwardly, Conner was pumping his fist in celebration. Outwardly, he remained cool, like a veteran of such meetings instead of a neophyte.

“One thing we need to discuss,” he said, “is the deployment of Rangers around the colony. There just aren’t enough of us to go around anymore. We’re stretched too thin.”

“What do you suggest?” the Primus asked. “That I have my augurs pick up fusion-burst rifles and start hunting Ursa?”

Conner didn’t take the bait. “What I’m suggesting is that your people—and the Savant’s—help with the non-combat tasks normally assigned to the Rangers. For instance, evacuating the population where there are Ursa sightings. Or distributing food and medical supplies wherever they’re needed.”

“My augurs are helping the people already,” the Primus said. “They’re giving comfort and solace to the fearful and the bereaved.”

“That’s great,” said Conner. “Then they won’t mind giving out supplies as well.”

The Primus’s eyebrows jumped in indignation. “I’ll be the arbiter of what they mind and what they don’t mind.”

The Savant, by contrast, didn’t seem perturbed at all. “I’ll dispatch everyone I can spare.”

“And I’ll give you all the information you need in order to do that,” Conner said. “Speaking of information, you’ve been dissecting the Ursa we killed. Is there anything you can tell us that we don’t already know?”

“Actually,” Flint said, “there is. Just this morning, my man Rambaldi finished his analysis. The report was sent to Commander Hātu
r
i, but I suppose I can share it with you. Especially the good news—there’s no evidence in the creature of reproductive organs.”

That
was
encouraging. Critical, in fact. They were having a hard time dealing with the Ursa as it was. If the creatures had the ability to reproduce …

“Which,” the Savant continued, “supports our suspicion that the Skrel
designed
the Ursa as opposed to plucking them out of nature.”

“Designed them to destroy us,” Conner said for the Primus’s benefit.

“Exactly,” said the Savant.

The Primus dismissed the implications with a flip of his hand. “That doesn’t change my theological position on the matter. What does it matter if the Ursa are naturally occurring creatures or laboratory creations? They are here for a reason. And their fate, and ours, will be determined by One greater than either of us.”

“My mom mentioned an old saying once,” Conner said. “ ‘God helps those who help themselves.’ ”

The Primus held up a finger as if he were teaching a class. “When He is inclined to do so.”

Conner gave up on that front and turned back to the Savant. “What else did your people find out?”

“Well, there’s support for your theory about a directional blind spot in the creature’s ability to smell. It’s not that the Ursa can’t smell anything behind it. It’s that all things being equal, its brain recognizes the smells in front of it much more strongly than those in back. The smells in front
drown out
the others, as it were.”

Good to know
, Conner thought. “Maybe we can refine our approach, produce stronger smells …”

“Except, as you discovered, the Ursa don’t rely solely on their sense of smell. So it’s not that simple.”

“Nothing is,” the Primus said. “There are mysteries within mysteries.”

“And it’s up to us to solve them,” Connor told him.

“But Rambaldi’s most interesting finding,” said Flint, ignoring the Primus now, “is that the Ursa’s hide is reinforced with metal alloy. Not a surgical insertion, as you might expect, but an integral part of the creature’s physiology, as much so as its teeth or its talons. We’re calling it
smart
metal.”

That
was
interesting
, Conner thought.

“Which,” the Savant continued, “is why pulsers haven’t had much effect on the Ursa. The smart metal protects them.”

“But we’ve
killed
Ursa with our pulsers,” Conner pointed out. “Two of them now.”