Harvest

by Olga Werby

  There was no moment when either Matteo or Phoebe spoke about the plan to destroy the lab and potentially kill their fellow Seed—they just both started wiring explosives more or less at the same time. They’d always had a preternatural ability to synchronize their thoughts and goals.

  “Oh, good,” Phoebe said loudly. “The light works now.” She demonstrably turned a desk lamp on and off. “I’ll go check the lights in the bathroom.” Her voice was a bit theatrical, but perhaps the nanobots wouldn’t notice how fake she sounded.

  Matteo crawled out from under the desk, pushing boxes of lab supplies behind him, obscuring the view of the charge he had just set. Just one more, and they would be ready to leave. The explosives were on timers, allowing them thirty minutes to get away after they got past the main door. Any more and he worried the Sophie-bot would get suspicious and come to investigate. For good measure, he’d already physically damaged the security doors between their halves of the lab, figuring any extra time gave them that much higher chance of getting out alive.

  “It’s my turn to get supplies from up on top,” he called out, again just for the Sophie-bot’s benefit. He zipped himself in multiple layers of clothing. With so many missing researchers, he and Phoebe had more Arctic survival gear than they could use at one time. Underneath the blanket Phoebe was wearing as a cape, she too had managed to put on several layers already, not all at once though and casually complaining of getting a chill the entire time.

  “I’ll help,” she said, walking out of the bathroom. “Let me just grab my coat.” She slipped into one of the dead Seeds’ snowsuits—hers was a bit too small with all the extra layers she had on—and grabbed a backpack already filled with bedrolls. “Don’t you need something to carry the provisions in?” she asked innocently. She didn’t lift his pack herself—it was heavy, and the idea was to make it look like it was mostly empty, ready to bring back supplies rather than take things out.

  Matteo lifted his backpack with exaggerated effortlessness and walked out. The last two full explosive charges and a detonator were in his pocket. This was the weakest part of their plan. The snowmobile was stored in the maintenance building that had been left to freeze over the last few weeks—they’d shut off the heaters to conserve power and to slow down the spread of the bots. The accumulation of snow on the roofs and walkways could be several feet thick by now, and the doors could be frozen solid. But the explosion would take care of some of this problem. They just needed to get out of range for now, and then come back and try to get the snowmobile to work. If it didn’t, they would ski out of here under their own power. There was snow equipment up above, on ground level.

  They walked up several flights of concrete stairs with only a small flashlight for illumination. The security cameras could see in infrared, but still there was no point in giving the nanobots any help. Matteo was familiar enough with the lab’s layout, and Phoebe held on to one of his pack’s straps. The ascent reminded him of running the stairs back at the Vault when he was a kid. Except here, the walls didn’t glow green with bioluminescent bacteria.

  They made it to the top underground floor without any problems. Matteo set his pack on the floor beside the lock panel on the blast-proof security door. Well, it was blast-proof if the explosions were on the outside.

  “Give me a hand, would you?”

  Phoebe held up a big flashlight to blind the camera over the lock while Matteo used his tools to pull out a small monitor. “I’m not sure I remember my personal password,” she said for the benefit of the security camera, pretending to fumble to remove gloves and mittens she’d put on earlier just for this purpose. “I know you made fun of me for wearing all of these, but my fingers just don’t seem to get warm anymore. I should have grabbed some of those chem warmers maybe.” She fumbled some more, making a lot of noise, even dropping her gloves a few times, all the while keeping the flashlight swinging around, away from Matteo. He hoped it was distracting enough.

  After removing the video plate, Matteo pulled it out as much as the wires allowed. He slipped the explosive into the resulting cavity.

  “Need help with the lock?” he asked. That was the signal to let Phoebe know he was done with his part.

  “Almost,” she said. She typed in the code, ensuring that the security camera caught her password. The door was never meant to keep people inside, just to protect them from would-be intruders. Getting out was supposed to be easy. But Phoebe had done a little reprogramming of the locks earlier. Sophie’s codes no longer worked, and if Sophie-bot and her nanobot army tried to use Phoebe’s password, the whole thing would blow, regardless of the time delay Matteo set. They didn’t want to take a chance of anyone—or anything—getting out.

  “All good now,” Phoebe said.

  “Then grab your pack and let’s go get some supplies.”

  They walked out of the lab, clicking the door closed behind them. They now had thirty minutes to get to safety.

  The main lab was built into a rocky hill, with five stories below ground and one above. They were still one level deep, so they ascended one more flight of stairs to ground level. Matteo tried not to rush—they had to preserve the appearance of unhurried calm. He was sure they were being watched. He would watch, if he was being left behind.

  They weren’t even outside yet, and the air was so cold it already felt like it was filled with sharp little needles. It was difficult to breathe. Matteo pulled up his facemask; inhaling air at these temperatures wasn’t recommended. He felt like he needed to cough.

  They arrived at ground level. This part of the building was designed to look like a welcoming vestibule of sorts. If any strangers happened to appear on the lab’s front doorstep, they could conceivably come in and spend the night without ever knowing there was a secret facility built underneath it. There was a fire-burning stove, some foodstuffs in perpetual refrigeration, a dry chem toilet—it wasn’t warm enough to keep the pipes from freezing up—as well as first aid, a radio, and ski equipment. Everything a wayward traveler might need to survive a day or two, but not enough to inspire a desire to linger.

  Matteo walked directly to the radio and tried to reach the Vault, or the wardens’ station, or anyone outside at all. Anyone.

  “Matteo?” There was a slight edge to Phoebe’s voice. “Let’s get the supplies from the warehouse—”

  “Just thought to give it try,” he said. He felt it would look suspicious of them not to try.

  “Well, I’m getting the skis—it looks like the path is totally gone,” Phoebe said, peeking through the frosted-over window. This was all for show. She couldn’t see a thing.

  “Yes, of course,” Matteo said. “In and out. Before we freeze to death out there.” He grabbed some skis too and walked with them to the outside door. He pushed—then pushed again. The door didn’t budge.

  The outside door was never locked. Benevolent hospitality in an inhospitable environment was the unwritten law of the land. A stranger trapped outside might not survive, so the outer door was kept unlocked. The door to the lab, a story below ground, was where the real security lay.

  Phoebe pushed too. “It’s frozen shut,” she said, her timbre slightly higher than normal.

  Matteo looked around the room. They could start a fire, but it would take too much time to warm the room enough to thaw the door open. Spotting an iron poker next to the stove, he picked it up and tried to use it as a crowbar. But the door was closely fitted into its opening, leaving no space to pry for leverage.

  “Well then,” Phoebe said. Her voice had returned to normal, without even a tremor to indicate she was scared. “I think we should break the window, don’t you? We still need those supplies…”

  Matteo examined the small double-pane window by the door. It was no more than a foot and a half square—no one installed view windows out in the Arctic—and would be a tight fit. But they had no choice. He swung the poker and hit the darn thi
ng as hard as he could. Again. And again.

  Finally it cracked, but it didn’t shatter. A thousand little bits were still held together. “Tempered glass,” he said.

  “Obviously,” said Phoebe. “Use the rod to clear the opening.”

  Matteo quickly swirled the iron around the window’s perimeter, and the glass finally fell from the pane, mostly in one crushed piece. He shoved their skis through the hole, then lifted his Seed-sibling and pushed her through the opening, feet first. It was a tight fit even for her. He pushed their packs out after her.

  “Your turn,” Phoebe said from outside. “Take your coat off first.” He stripped off one coat, then another, pushing them outside to Phoebe. It was cold. Damn cold. “Put your head out first and wiggle your shoulders through. I’ll pull on you from this side.”

  Matteo pulled a chair over to the window, stood on it, and slid his head and one arm through the opening, turning slightly to give his shoulders the maximum diagonal space. As he did, he saw that a camera was pointed directly at him, at his face. And at that moment, he was sure of one thing: it...they knew. The bots and Sophie knew this wasn’t about getting supplies. No one broke windows and tried to squeeze through just to get more lab supplies.

  He turned his face toward Phoebe. “They know,” he mouthed.

  “I know, I know. Just push.” She grabbed his shoulders and pulled. He wiggled and snaked his upper body, trying to help her help him. He wished he could use his arms, but they were pinned, one in, one out. Phoebe was wrenching his shoulder out of its socket, and the pain was amazing, but Matteo ignored it. He needed Phoebe to get going, to get safe. Ten minutes left.

  “I won’t leave you,” she said as if reading his mind. “So you’d better get yourself through this damn hole.” She had him by the jacket, her feet braced against the wall, legs straining. “You might come out of this pants-less,” she said with an evil smile.

  “As long as I come out…” The chair fell to the floor with a thud. He lost his leverage. It was all on Phoebe now. “But I’d prefer you didn’t see me so exposed.”

  “Save your breath,” she puffed.

  Finally one of his arms—the first out—was free to help her. Matteo grabbed the side of the window and pushed. His shoulder screamed. He might have popped or ripped something.

  “That’s it,” Phoebe was saying. “Keep pushing. Almost out.”

  Finally, Matteo popped through the broken window and hit the ice and snow face first, taking Phoebe to the ground with him.

  “Come on,” she said. “Three minutes and counting.”

  From inside, they could hear pounding on the door one level down. Sophie-bot had apparently discovered that Phoebe’s password no longer worked. She was clever enough not to try her own. She...they understood...

  Phoebe put all four skis down on the ground, draped Matteo’s coats on top, dropped the two backpacks on the makeshift sled, and began pushing it down the hill—slowly at first, then faster. “Get on!” she cried and jumped on top of the bags.

  Matteo kept pushing for a little while longer. When he felt it had enough momentum to carry them both down the slope, he put his feet on the skis and held on to Phoebe’s shoulders.

  They got just beyond the bottom of the hill before the explosion ripped the air around them. Matteo was knocked off his feet and rolled through ice and snow. Then everything went dark.

  “Matteo. Matteo.”

  The voice kept repeating his name. He had to make it stop. “What?”

  “Finally,” Phoebe said. “Time to go. I’ve checked you over, and nothing’s broken—bloody nose notwithstanding.”

  “Are you okay?” Matteo asked. He tried to move, and a sharp pain seared the back of his head. A concussion? He stifled a groan; no reason to stress Phoebe any more than she already was. With luck he had just taken a bad knock, no more.

  “As okay as possible under the circumstances.” Phoebe helped him sit up and then roll over onto his hands and knees. He cried out as he put weight on his shoulder. Something was definitely ripped. The pain was nauseating...or perhaps that was his head injury?

  “Cold,” he said instead of vomiting. Cold actually helped a bit.

  “No shit,” she said. “Get your coats back on.”

  Matteo did as he was told, moving his head and shoulder as little as possible. He saw that Phoebe had tried to keep him warm by piling the coats and blankets on top of his body while he was unconscious. And still he was freezing. “Damn, it’s cold,” he said as he dressed. “How long was I knocked out?”

  “Not long. Five minutes tops.” That was a vague answer for a Seed. Seeds had an excellent internal time-sense—an ability honed by living in a place with no diurnal cues. If Phoebe was uncertain, she’d probably been stunned by the blast as well.

  When Matteo finally had his layers of clothing back on, he looked around. Their stuff was strewn about. One of the skis was broken, and the others were nowhere in sight. Parts of the building were scattered quite a ways in all directions. They had thought the blast door would have kept the damage to the top of the building to a minimum, but obviously it didn’t. After scanning the destruction around them, Matteo spotted his bag; the iron poker was sticking out of it like a spear. That was close.

  “We don’t have much time,” Phoebe said. She started to gather the blankets and restuff the backpacks. “Two hours of daylight, at most.”

  As Matteo picked up his pack, he started to toss away the heavy iron poker but reconsidered, deciding to keep it. Might come in handy. He patted the pocket of his coat. The last explosive was still there, together with the remote detonator they didn’t have to use.

  He pointed to the broken ski. “Any signs of the others?”

  “Just part of one over there,” Phoebe said, gesturing to a something sticking out of a snowbank.

  “Well then, that settles it. We’re getting that snowmobile.” Frankly, he didn’t think he could walk to the wardens’ station in his condition.

  Matteo heaved the bag over his good shoulder; the nausea was receding a bit; so perhaps no concussion. He walked back up the hill to the separate structure that housed the vehicle. In the summer, the warehouse roof served as a helicopter pad, but now it was a dome of snow pockmarked with debris from the explosion. Matteo tried to remember which side of the building had the door. It wasn’t obvious under all this snow.

  “South,” Phoebe said, anticipating him.

  Of course—always put the entrance on the opposite side from the prevailing wind.

  They walked around the building. Surprisingly, there wasn’t as much snow on that side, and the door was easily accessible. Too accessible. Someone had cleared it recently.

  Matteo entered the master administrator code, shielding the numbers with his glove.

  “Do you think that’s still necessary?” Phoebe asked.

  Matteo just shrugged and opened the door. Just inside was a brand new snowmobile, all prepped and ready.

  “This is…awfully convenient.”

  “Very,” said Phoebe. “But I don’t care. Let’s get out here. We can speculate when we get to the wardens’ station.”

  Matteo pressed the start button, and the machine grumped to life. “Get on,” he said as he secured his bag to the rack at the back.

  “I’ll sit in the back for a while,” Phoebe offered. That was the seat that was both frigid and dangerous—the cold winds would whip her, and her back would be exposed to any threats. Front was the preferable position. The glass shield protected the driver from wind chill and sleet.

  Matteo considered her offer. The gentlemanly thing to do was to decline. But his shoulder was hot with pain, and his head was ringing. “Okay,” he said. “But only for a while.”

  He got on first, and she saddled around him, holding his back. She still wore her pack—it was another layer of protection from the eleme
nts…and other things. He patted the heavy iron bar at his side.

  The world felt peaceful and quiet as they rode away—or perhaps Matteo had just lost some of his hearing in the blast. The landscape was almost flat and completely desolate; there was nothing around for miles and miles. For the first time in weeks, Matteo felt himself let go, releasing some of the tension. He made his mind hush and focused only on the ground, looking for the best possible route through the ice and snow.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Vars looked around the bridge again, making sure she hadn’t missed something. There was clearly no one here. Some overhead screens showed technical readouts and some views of the far and close-up images of the alien structure, all devoid of any human activity. One monitor showed the view of the ship itself as seen from a camera staked into the ground a few meters away from their landing site. It all looked normal, or at least as Vars expected. Liut hadn’t initiated the icing procedure yet. If it weren’t for the strange hum and the empty bridge, nothing would seem amiss. So Vars left to explore the rest of the ship.

  The public spaces—at least the dining area, medlab, and the corridors—were all empty. Vars didn’t remember a time this whole trip when she didn’t run into someone outside of her room—the ship wasn’t that big and there was always someone on duty.

  “Okay,” Vars said aloud just to hear her own voice. “People could all be asleep. Perhaps no one else noticed the sound.” But even as she said it, she knew it was just desperation talking. Something had happened. Something was very wrong.

  She practically ran back to her stateroom...well, more like hopped-swam in the low gravity of Mimas. “Ben!” she shouted even before she opened the door. But her room was empty too now. Neither Ben nor Trish was there. The blankets and pillows they had been using were neatly folded back on her bed.

  What was going on? Where was everyone?