Free After Earth by Peter David Page A

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 tomake 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 newsabout 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