Free After Earth by Peter David Page B

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.
ii
    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 Kitaiwas 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.
    My strength. Once upon a time I could have off-loaded it with one hand tied behind my back. Now I’m actually tired
. He stretched his arms out to either side and winced at the pain in his shoulder. That would go away before too long, but the older he got, the more often he would feel unwanted pains and the slower they would be to depart.
    He lay back on the bed and stared at the walls of the guest room. The walls provided the other aspect of the room, namely, that it was his shrine to Senshi.
    The wall was made of smart fabric, and family pictures had been transferred to it. The images moved slowly but deliberately across the cloth. There was Senshi, from her birth right up to a photo that had been taken two