The Seeds Trilogy Complete Collection: The Sowing, The Reaping, The Harvest (including The Prelude)

by K. Makansi

  We’re outside the city center and running through neighborhoods full of apartments, shops, and restaurants. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the city that everything strikes me as opulent. Soren and I are haggard, exhausted from trying to keep up with Chan-Yu’s relentless pace. Just when I think I can’t keep up this pace, after at least twenty minutes of jogging punctuated with an occasional sprint between open spaces, Chan-Yu comes to an abrupt stop under a storefront awning.

  “Wait here.” He rounds a corner and disappears.

  “Fuck,” Soren swears, bending over with his hands on his knees. “I’m beat.” I nod my silent agreement—I don’t have enough wind left in me to actually speak—and hope the running is over.

  We stand in the shadows of the enormous apartment building, gripping our packs and looking around nervously, catching our breath as we wait for Chan-Yu to return. My heart is beating so loudly I’m surprised Soren can’t hear it, and I try to calm myself, to tell myself that Chan-Yu is in control of the situation. But I’ve never liked putting my fate in anyone else’s hands, much less a stranger’s.

  After a few minutes, I hear the telltale low hum of a hovercar, and I grab Soren and we duck into the shadows as a supply truck with Chan-Yu riding shotgun rounds the corner. The official Sector sunflower emblem is painted on the side, and beneath it reads: OKARIAN SECTOR FARM SUPPLY DETAIL. The driver is a mousy woman with her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She doesn’t look at us but instead seems to be peering into the rearview mirror as if she has something in her eye. Chan-Yu pushes a button on the dash and then hops out as the back door rolls open. He motions us in, and we climb up and find seats on a pile of boxes. Before Chan-Yu joins us, he looks up into the sky and a look of alarm crosses his face. My heart stops. He quickly hops in with us and slams the door down.

  “We’re being tracked,” he says. “Drones.”

  “Do they know we’re in the truck?” I demand.

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Chan-Yu responds. I contemplate this grisly possibility and wonder how short-lived our escape will be. A wave of molten fear courses through me at the thought of facing Philip and Aulion again. A light comes on above us, and Chan-Yu smiles.

  “Sela is very thoughtful,” he says, presumably referring to the driver.

  “Who is she?” Soren asks.

  “A friend,” he responds. “I hope we’ll have a few minutes of quiet now, so you should rest,” he says casually, as though we were out for a pleasant afternoon jaunt.

  “Where are we going?” Soren asks.

  “I recognize you from when Vale interrogated us,” I say.

  “If you’re Sector military, why are you helping us?” Soren adds, gesturing at Chan-Yu’s uniform.

  “I have my reasons.”

  “We deserve to know what’s going on, where you’re taking us, and why,” Soren says.

  “Is that so?” Chan-Yu turns his narrow, unsmiling eyes onto Soren. “You deserve to know? And what have you done, Soren Skaarsgard, to earn the right to know everything that goes on around you? What gives you the right to know the thoughts and decisions of others?” He shakes his head at Soren, who looks subdued, though unrepentant. “Not everything is within your control, and there is nothing in this world that gives you the right to know how all things have come to be.”

  Soren opens his mouth like he’s about to spit out a response, but he stops halfway through and thinks better of it.

  “What is important is that your lives are in danger. You have something very valuable, and Corine Orleán knows you have it,” he says, shifting his gaze from Soren to me. Does he know about the DNA? “Make no mistake, she wants you dead. She believes fervently that if you should return to the Resistance and give them what knowledge you have, the control she has worked for years to obtain will be nothing. The OAC’s power will be diminished—her power will be diminished.”

  My mind is racing. Corine must have seen me on camera, just as Soren feared. She can’t risk anyone else learning about the key, so she ordered us killed, and somehow Chan-Yu found out. But he was with Vale during the interrogation. Does that mean Vale knows?

  “What about Vale…?” I can’t finish the sentence.

  “I have been working for him at Corine Orleán’s directive, and—”

  “Wait,” I stop him. “You worked for Vale or Corine?”

  He looks at me calmly and without blinking says, “In the Sector, everyone works for Corine Orleán.”

  I pull up short, considering the implications of his words. Does she have that much power?

  “You wear a Sector uniform and yet, by all accounts, you just committed a treasonous act by freeing us,” Soren interjects.

  “Yes, I wear a Sector uniform. As far as the Orleáns or anyone else in the Sector knows, I was a TREE scholar who opted to forego the Academy to join the Military Youth Training Program. I was ultimately recruited, along with several other promising candidates, by Corine. So, formally, I am attached to the OAC Security Directorate.”

  At this, Soren and I glance at each other, wondering again whether we can really trust this man. In the Resistance, the OAC Security Directorate is nicknamed Corine’s Black Ops. They’re an elite team of soldiers who are selected for their intelligence, physical fitness, and dedication to the OAC’s cause. And, rumor has it they are paid very well for their loyalty.

  The TREE Program is a scholarship program for kids from the outer quadrants. Every child in the Sector has to take standardized evaluations each year from the time we first enter formal schooling at age three. By the time we’re fourteen, most of us know what school, if any, we’re headed for. For the brightest in Okaria and the children of the privileged, it’s the Academy, but most of the kids in the quadrants attend local schools until age sixteen and then are apprenticed out to work in the factory towns or on the Farms. But every year, one student from each quadrant, the kid with the highest score on the Level Eleven standardized test, hits the jackpot and earns a free ticket to the Academy. Those are the TREE Scholars—it stands for Talent Revival and Education Enterprise. It’s how Eli made it to the Academy.

  “You said, ‘As far as the Orleáns or anyone else in the Sector knows, you were a TREE Scholar; does that mean you weren’t actually in the program?” I ask.

  “No. Outsiders don’t send their children to Sector schools,” he says, with what I swear is almost a twinkle in his eyes.

  “You’re an Outsider?” Soren says, stunned. “How did you get registered in the Sector? Human Registry is impossible to breach!” Sector Human Registry is the database that keeps track of everyone’s identity. It involves DNA testing as an infant, and then constant, weekly monitoring of growth, emotional and intellectual intelligence, hormone levels, personality tests—basically everything that’s possible to know about an individual. The Dieticians use the information to create personalized diets, tailored to the individual and his or her educational pathway and profession.

  “Obviously it’s not impossible, because here I am,” he smiles, this time a real, genuine smile, and I can see he takes pride in the fact that the Outsiders have, in at least one way, outsmarted the Sector. “The Outsiders have connections on the inside,” he says, without a trace of irony. “Sela, our driver, for instance. We have found, over the years, that it’s helpful to keep an eye on what’s happening here.” His eyes darken and turn stormy as he looks past us, beyond us. “They have a tendency to blame their more heinous crimes on us, and their retaliation is swift and deadly.”

  He’s talking about Tai, I realize, and I wonder how many innocent people were murdered in the name of avenging the classroom massacre that was so conveniently blamed on an “Outsider terrorist.” I close my eyes and shudder at the thought.

  “How does Vale figure in all this?” Soren asks the question on my lips. “Does he know about this information we have? If you worked for him, does he know you’re helping us?”

  “He is aware of the situation.” I notice he didn’t answe
r Soren’s first question. He knows we’ve escaped. But what does that mean? Did he want Chan-Yu to help us or did he know and was just unable to stop him? I’m afraid to ask. For a few moments, we are silent, lost in our thoughts as the truck glides through the darkness.

  Finally, I can’t stand it any longer.

  “Chan-Yu?” He looks at me as if he knows what I’m going to ask.

  “Does Vale know Corine wants us dead? Did he want you to help us or—”

  Suddenly the hovercar lurches and starts to slow, and my heart pounds. Chan-Yu notices the fear in my eyes and says simply, “Checkpoint.”

  “Where are we going?” Soren asks again.

  “The port. There’s a supply ship that leaves across the lake at six in the morning. They should currently be occupied loading the cargo onto the ship, so it won’t be easy for us to get on.” Not to mention that soldiers and drones will no doubt be thoroughly searching every corner of the boat for the escaped Resistance fugitives.

  “But—the Code Red, won’t they search—” I start, but Chan-Yu shakes his head.

  “Not now.” I sigh in relief, but it’s short-lived. “There’s another checkpoint before we reach the port. That’s where they’ll search the truck.” My heart sinks. “But don’t worry, we’re getting out before then,” he says. “The hard part will be getting on the boat, and once we’re on the other side of the lake, there are no guarantees. Hold on. We’ll be there soon, so be ready to move.” Soren and I sling our packs over our shoulders and hold our breath.

  We get through the checkpoint and pick up speed for a while. Then the light above us flickers once, twice, and the truck starts to slow again. This appears to be some kind of signal, as Chan-Yu stands and pulls the door open about halfway. “She’s not going to stop, only slow down, so we have to be quick. Sit on the edge and jump out. Then get off the road immediately.”

  Soren and I plop down on the back of the truck and push ourselves out, landing on soft dirt near an unpaved path to the port. We squat beside the road and wait for Chan-Yu. The city has faded into the background, giving way to sparse trees and shrubs as the land slopes down to the lake. In the distance, I can see the glow of dim lights from the port and then stark, empty darkness—the lake.

  Chan-Yu lands gracefully as the door thuds shut behind him and the truck continues on its way. He motions for us to follow him, and we head down a barely visible path, taking refuge in the tall grass spreading across the otherwise empty field. The port is on a spit of land that stretches out into the enormous lake, leaving ample space for ships to dock and load. We can hear voices carry over the water, dockworkers shouting to each other. The port isn’t huge—it can only handle about ten ships at a time—and most of the loading and unloading is done using airborne robots, so there usually aren’t too many people around. I’d been down to the port a couple of times when Mom and Dad had gone on tours of the area quadrants after Dad was named Poet Laureate. They usually took airships, but once in a while, they’d go by boat. I thought it was old-fashioned and kind of romantic and always begged to go with them. They only let me go a few times because they didn’t want me missing so much school. The last time I traveled across the lake was when we stowed away, when we left the Sector and our old lives behind us.

  We find ourselves crouching behind some sort of shed, peering around the edges to look over the ship, which is docked about a hundred meters from us. A small device on Chan-Yu’s wrist starts to flash a dull blue light, and he looks up at the sky.

  “Get down!” he whispers urgently, dragging us down onto our bellies under a bush. “Drones,” he says, so softly I can barely hear him. “They must be canvassing the whole city.” Fear clutches my stomach and wraps tightly around my lungs, squeezing the breath out of me. After all this, to get caught now would be such a waste. Chan-Yu fusses with his pack and then pulls out some sort of blanket and covers us with it. It must be a temperature cloaking device to hide us from the drones’ heat sensors. We lie in silence for several moments, huddled together on the ground, waiting for—what? After a few seconds, the drone sensor on his wrist stops flashing. Chan-Yu indicates to us that we should stay where we are, but he stands up and disappears.

  “I wish he’d stop doing that,” Soren mutters.

  “I wish I were back with Eli at base,” I hiss back. “But that’s not going to get me anywhere, now is it?”

  I feel a tapping on my shoulder and I push the blanket over my head to see Chan-Yu staring at me, motioning us up. We climb to our feet and brush ourselves off.

  “We have less than an hour to get on board. Drones and a small detachment of soldiers are surveying the area and searching the ship. We can’t board until they’ve finished and cleared it for departure, but we can’t stay here, either. Human soldiers and drones combined will find us with or without heat shields.”

  I stare at him hopelessly.

  “So what do we do?”

  He gives us a look like Are you ready for this? “I hope both of you know how to swim.”

  ****

  Chan-Yu leads us along a roundabout path down to the waterfront, far from the bustle of the docks. I’m shivering already, just thinking about how cold the water must be at this time of year. Once we’re as close to the sandy beach as we dare, he hands Soren a small glass vial containing a crystal-clear liquid. Soren and I glance hesitantly at each other. The thought flashes through my mind that he’s going to kill us now—poison us and then trick us into the water, where our bodies will never be found. When I ask what it is he doesn’t respond at first, but just glances at me as though I were a child speaking out of turn in class. He’s busy occupying himself with something in his pack, and after a few seconds he pulls out a wide jar. He hands the jar to me and then nods at me expectantly. I stare at him, dumbfounded.

  “You’ve never used heat gel before?” he asks. Soren and I both shake our heads no. “It’s infused with nanoparticles that have thermotunneling capacity. You rub it on your skin and the particles use the differential between your body temperature and the air or water temperature to produce heat. It’s insoluble in water so it will cling to your skin, but it’s not as good as a wetsuit, and doesn’t last forever.” When neither Soren nor I move, he looks at us with a hint of anger in his eyes. “Hurry. We don’t have much time.”

  Soren and I each scoop out a handful, and I turn my back to him and drop my pants. As I rub the gel on my legs, I immediately feel the particles activate. The boost in heat on my skin is undeniable, and I lift my shirt and rub the stuff all over myself.

  “Boots and clothes will be useless,” Chan-Yu says and starts to strip. “You’ll want them dry when we get to the other side, so stuff them in your packs. They’re waterproof.”

  Lovely. The thought of being naked in front of Chan-Yu and Soren doesn’t bother me. At base we all share the shower room, so we’re comfortable with nudity—to a point. I personally have never seen Rhinehouse naked, but Kenzie’s shared her horror stories more than once. But the thought of being caught stark naked by Sector soldiers is a whole different story. Oh well, what the hell. I pull off my shirt and start to rub the gel all over my skin.

  As I undress, I can’t help but sneak a sidelong glance at Soren as he, too, peels off his clothes. Of course I’ve seen him naked before, coming out of the showers, but after everything that we’ve been through, somehow this time it feels more intimate even though we’re standing out in the open. Back at base, it was a casual thing, something that could happen any day. It meant nothing. But here, to me, it seems to be one more thing, one more shared experience, that brings us closer.

  “Drink the liquid in the vial, too,” Chan-Yu says pointedly. “Two swallows each.” Neither of us makes a move to open the small glass bottle. We’re standing in the middle of nowhere, half-naked with drones swarming overhead, and now we balk when asked to drink from the little vial? Still, I frown and shake my head.

  “What’s in it?” I can’t shake the image of my purple and bloate
d body washing up on shore weeks from now.

  “Another warming concoction. This one works from the inside out. It slows your heart rate, allowing you to conserve energy, but it will also dilate your capillaries, allowing more blood to reach your skin cells in the cold. You won’t be able to swim as fast, so don’t push yourself, but you’ll be able to stay in the water for longer.”

  “Why do you just happen to have this stuff in your pack?” Soren demands.

  Chan-Yu just shrugs. “It’s winter,” he says matter-of-factly. I guess the cold weather is as good a reason as any to have a stash of heat-providing substances. Especially if you’re planning on escaping into the Wilds at the drop of a hat.

  “Is it all Outsider-made?” I ask. “I’ve never heard of these things.”

  “The gel is an OAC product.” Great, I think. We’re supporting Corine Orleán’s business enterprise. “We—” I presume he means We Outsiders “—don’t have the capacity to produce nanotech. The liquid in the vial is plant-derived. That is Outsider-made.”

  Once Soren and I have finished slathering our bodies with the strange gel, the jar is almost empty, and I have to wonder how Chan-Yu will survive without it. Soren and I look at each other anxiously before he unscrews the top of his vial and chugs the liquid inside, two swallows. I do the same. It’s like doing shots at home with Eli and Firestone. It’s sweet, and it tastes tingly somehow, like bubbles of sparkling wine on the back of my tongue. When I don’t immediately start convulsing and turning purple, I breathe a deep sigh of relief.

  “Okay,” Chan-Yu says, grabbing the vial and tipping it back for his own dose. “Move. Stay under as much as possible,” he says. “Even with the heat protections, we only have so long before the cold water turns deadly.” He nods at us, and we move.