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

by K. Makansi

  “As you all know, the project has been created in response to a new series of threats from those who call themselves the Resistance. The damage that the Resistance has inflicted upon our facilities so far has been minor at worst. However, it is clear from their growing numbers, increasing boldness, and the ease with which they have penetrated our defenses that they could very soon pose a significant threat to the security of our food supply.”

  Demeter brings up a series of holographic projections, each image showing one of the government buildings or OAC research facilities with their names and the dates of the raids.

  “After consultation with the chancellor and the OAC’s general director,”—it’s always strange to refer to my parents by their titles—“I understand my primary goal for the project will be to not only defend our own facilities, but also to impede the Resistance’s ability to carry out additional operations and to deter those who may be sympathetic to their propaganda from joining their movement.”

  “Question, Vale,” I hear within my ear. Demeter immediately switches the hologram in my office to a close-up of the man currently speaking. It’s General Bunqu, a man with whom I’ve had the pleasure to train for the past year. He is a sight to behold. At the weights, at the sprints, at the long-distance runs and at the obstacle courses, Bunqu can best nearly every man who dares to compete against him. He only speaks to answer questions or issue commands, and he very rarely smiles. He is as black as a moonless night, and, for some reason, he always reminds me of the giant oak behind my bedroom at the chancellor’s residence—towering, stately, immovable.

  “Could you help us to better understand the goals of the Resistance? What are their motivations for striking at our Seed Banks, for poaching information from them while leaving them largely unharmed?”

  I take a deep breath. It’s a great question, and while I’ve thought a lot about it, I haven’t really tried to articulate it. I haven’t had to. Aulion and I spend all our time discussing the finer points of tactics and capabilities on both sides, but he’s never bothered to help me dissect the overall goals of the Resistance. “Of course, General,” I say, and then pause, looking for an answer. Demeter swoops in to my rescue.

  “Old world versus new, Vale,” she says. Of course.

  “Think of it like this, General. Our exclusive reliance on the OAC’s artificial, genetically-modified seeds has enabled us to overcome the constant threat of famine and successfully feed our growing nation. Additionally, these seeds enable Sector Dieticians to customize our diets in order for us to maximize health and minimize disease. Those who defected all had one thing in common: they made it clear they thought our reliance on these seeds was unsustainable and unethical. Now, as leaders of the Resistance, their goal is to acquire the genetic information for our seeds so they can return them to their natural, pre-modification state and disseminate them so people can grow their own food. While this might sound like a simple idea to some, we know it would be a disaster. As Madam Orleán is fond of saying, ‘Old world seeds breed old world disease.’”

  The threat of the Resistance is real: if they succeed, they could cast the world we’ve built back into a dark history of starvation, disease, and death. This is why the Resistance is so dangerous. This is why they must be destroyed. And this is why, for myself, I need to know why Remy would ever choose to be a part of such an organization.

  General Bunqu frowns, his black face creased in wrinkles as he ponders this. “Hmmm. That would be serious indeed,” he says finally.

  “Of course it would be serious,” my mother chimes in, and her dulcet voice carries a soft edge. “Dissemination of old world seeds would contaminate the genes we have worked so hard over the years to perfect. If the Resistance succeeds, it could ruin a hundred years of engineering effort, and we would be forced to start over from the beginning—from where we were after the Famine Years.”

  A hush spreads over the presentation room as everyone contemplates this possibility. It is a terrifying prospect. It signals starvation, war, death, disease—all the things we have kept at bay since Jubilation Day, when the Okarian Sector was first founded.

  I clear my throat and break the silence.

  “And that, Madam Orleán, is why this project is so important. In order to stop the Resistance before it gains more traction, my goals are: First, to assemble a special-ops reconnaissance force designed specifically to infiltrate and dismantle Resistance bases; Second, to hunt down and imprison the leaders of this dangerous movement; Finally, to design a public awareness campaign to counter Resistance propaganda and to prevent defection.”

  I look around the room for any questions, and when none are forthcoming, I close my presentation.

  “Thank you all for listening. I will send each of you a copy of this presentation. If you have any further questions, please pass them on to me after the meeting, and I will be happy to address them to your satisfaction.”

  Inhale, exhale. I survived—not just survived, but perhaps triumphed over—my first joint board meeting. Demeter switches the screen to an overhead of the whole table. My father takes over for me.

  “Thank you very much, Vale. We are all anxious to see how your goals progress in the coming months. Remember, this project is an immense responsibility, and don’t hesitate to ask any of us for help. While we all believe you’ll succeed in this task, you’re still young, and as a junior officer it’s our responsibility to help you in any way we can.” A general hum of approval sounds through the room. “Now, speaking only as a proud parent: congratulations, son! You survived your first board meeting,” he says, cracking a smile, and everyone laughs—everyone except General Aulion. “We’ll see you again in a week. Ladies and gentlemen, on to other matters.”

  Demeter shuts down the hologram and raises the lights in my office. The anxiety and stress run off of my body like rainwater, and I collapse, sinking deep into my chair. I am exhausted. I hadn’t realized how nervous I was.

  “Well, that wasn’t so bad, was it, Deme?”

  “No, Vale,” comes the soft and comforting female voice in return. “You were prepared, and you answered each question well. I believe they were impressed.”

  “Yeah, I thought so, too.”

  There’s a knock at the door. Damn it. I was hoping for some time to relax and not think about anything.

  “Who is it, Deme?” There’s a camera outside the door that allows her to screen anyone approaching my office.

  “Linnea Heilmann.”

  Oh, joy.

  “Let her in,” I say, too tired to get up from my chair and open the door myself. It swings open and Linnea, a rush of blonde hair, long legs, and shimmering blue eyes, comes bounding in the door. Dressed more casually today, in a dark green tunic with brown lace-up boots, she looks less dangerous than she did at the graduation ceremony, but no less beautiful.

  “How did the meeting go?” She flashes that smoky smile at me. “Corine said it was your first big presentation. She asked me to come check on you after you were done.”

  That’s my mom, playing matchmaker again.

  “It went really well. Thanks for ask—”

  “Your mom was saying how stressed you’ve been since you started work.” Linnea seems perfectly at ease in my office. She walks around my desk and sits herself down on top of it like she’s been here a thousand times. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Well, if you can somehow get Aulion off my back for a half-second.

  She crosses her legs and leans back on her hands as her tunic rides up along her thigh, revealing perfectly toned muscle. I can’t help but stare. No wonder half the men in the Sector go to bed dreaming about her.

  “No, thanks. I just need to get back to work, is all.”

  “Maybe I should kidnap you and take you out for a relaxing dinner. I’m sure you deserve it.” She’s practically purring.

  “That sounds nice, Linnea, but not tonight. I really do have a lot of work to do.” She doesn’t take the hint. In
stead, she stares around the office, and her blue eyes narrow as she surveys the décor.

  “You know, Vale, I was wondering …” She hesitates. “Do you know what ever happened to Elijah Tawfiq?”

  Do I know what ever happened to Elijah Tawfiq? What kind of a question is that? I think about this for a minute, staring at her, wondering what on earth she’s getting at.

  “What do you mean?” I ask suspiciously.

  “Well, I was just talking about him with Corine. She was saying what a tragedy it is that the OAC lost such a talented scientist to mental illness—you know, he went kind of crazy after the Outsider attack….”

  Of course I know all this. Elijah is one of the key members of the Resistance raid teams. He’s led two of the three most successful raids against our seed banks and he disappeared at the same time as Remy and her parents. I didn’t have to profile him for my assignment last week with General Aulion because he’s not considered a senior Resistance leader, but we’ve certainly spent a lot of time talking about him.

  “And then he disappeared, of course, and I always wondered.… It got me thinking, what if he joined the Resistance? Do you know anything, Vale?”

  Linnea has a dreamy look in her eyes as though she’s not really seeing me, even as she stares at me, waiting for my answer. I know that years ago, when we were younger, Linnea had a thing for Eli, the good-looking young hotshot who was a few years older than us. But her behavior right now is so strange, so unguarded, so unlike Linnea, that I have to wonder if something’s really wrong.

  “Linnea, I’m really sorry, but if I had any information, I wouldn’t be allowed to divulge it anyway.”

  Suddenly she snaps out of her trance.

  “Oh, well,” she says, and I can tell by her sultry voice that she’s back to normal. “Don’t worry about it, darling.” She reaches out her other hand and quite needlessly brushes my hair out of my face, now smiling at me with an expression that might seem tender if it weren’t quite so possessive. “So dinner is out, but how about later? One of my friends is hosting a get-together tonight. Why don’t you come with me? You know what they say about all work and no play….” I think about it for a few seconds, wondering what it would be like to fall in with Linnea. But something about her is just too calculating, and I can almost hear Jeremiah and Moriana reproaching me: You went out with her, Vale? What the fuck is wrong with you?

  “No, thanks. Going out at night is difficult when you have to wake up to face General Aulion at 06h00 in the morning. But I appreciate it. Maybe another time?” I have to be nice to her, if only for my mother’s sake.

  Anger flashes in her eyes like a lightning strike, and I resist the temptation to duck. But then it passes, and she smiles. “Sure, whenever you want. Until next time, darling,” she says, and turns on her heel and walks out the door. Demeter clicks it shut behind her, activating the lock again.

  I lean back in my chair and begin to replay everything that just happened. Now I can’t stop thinking about Elijah. Why was Linnea asking questions about him? Why were she and my mother talking about him, when my mother knows perfectly well he’s a member of the Resistance? What was up with Linnea’s strange behavior, and why—aside from matchmaking purposes—is my mother giving Linnea inside information?

  “Time to start digging, Demeter. Bring up all the information we have on the whereabouts of Elijah Tawfiq. Let’s find out why Linnea is so interested in him.”

  7 - REMY

  Fall 67, Sector Annum 105, 16h04

  Gregorian Calendar: November 26

  I stare aimlessly at one of the chromosomes Eli downloaded onto my plasma. I use my fingers to twirl it around and zoom in and out at random, keying in on various “genes” on the strange sunflower chromosome. I’ve looked at it from every possible angle, and it still doesn’t mean a damn thing to me. Just a big string of molecules.

  It’s been a few weeks since Eli’s big reveal. Soren, Kenzie, Jahnu, and I have spent every free moment peering at the chromosome structure on my tablet, examining the base pair sequences on Eli’s computer, or browsing through every document on cryptography we can get our hands on. And after all our work, we’re all just as stumped as he was. No one has the slightest clue what the DNA codes for, or even how to begin to decode it.

  We’ve been ducking out of our other duties as often and as early as possible. We’ve co-opted a little backroom by the giant water filter, which makes an enormous racket and serves as a deterrent for anyone who might want to come poking around. For the time being, we’d like to keep this a secret. After all, it’s entirely possible this information has already resulted in the deaths of a classroom full of students.

  “Some genius. Why couldn’t whoever created this have left us some sort of clue as to how to crack the damn thing?” I mutter while spinning one of the chromosomes aimlessly on the plasma. I’ve been especially bitter the last few days—everyone else in our group is either a science whiz or a master computer programmer. They all speak math and physics and can babble on endlessly about formulas, vectors, and compiling programs—subjects about which I am woefully ignorant. I’m the lone artist of the group, and my skills are notoriously useless when attempting to analyze DNA. So I’ve mostly been playing with my plasma and staring over someone else’s shoulder as they work. I even did a pen and ink sketch of one of the chromosomes. Not that it helped. But it looks good.

  “Maybe he didn’t want anyone to figure it out,” Jahnu replies. He sounds just as depressed as I am. As a mathematician, Jahnu’s specialty is in puzzles and patterns. He helps the comm team encrypt messages sent between bases, so Eli was especially hopeful he’d have some insight to offer on the project. Obviously that hasn’t panned out quite the way he’d hoped.

  “Well, that’s stupid. Why would he go through all the trouble of coding it in the first place and then putting the DNA in the cell nuclei or whatever if he didn’t want anyone to get to it? And, how do you know it was a he?”

  Jahnu stands and stretches. “I’m gonna go find Kenzie. She should be off of KP by now.”

  “Gonna spend some special time with your new girlfriend before you head in to work, huh?” The one bright spot on this whole extravaganza has been Kenzie and Jahnu. The two of them are just over the moon about each other, and while I’m sure it’ll pass and they’ll get back to normal eventually, right now they’re preoccupied with being as annoyingly adorable as possible. They walk hand-in-hand all through the tunnels, he puts his arm around her when they’re in the mess hall, and I accidentally walked in on them in various stages of undress two nights ago.

  “So what if I am?” he shoots back at me. His skin is too dark to see a blush, but I have no doubt his cheeks are flushing.

  “So nothing!” As sulky as I’ve been recently, his happiness is infectious. I shove him playfully as he walks by me on the way out the door. “Make good choices!” I yell after him. He swears at me and slams the door.

  I go back to spinning the model on my plasma. I don’t begrudge Jahnu and Kenzie their happiness. It’s just that it reminds me of the last time I felt that way. I rub my temples, trying to erase Vale’s face from the images behind my eyes. Maybe it’s just how little sleep I’m getting, but since we watched the graduation ceremony, I can’t get him out of my head. Every time I close my eyes, he’s waiting in the black.

  When we were friends at the Academy, even before he kissed me, I always sort of liked him. He was two years older than me, in between me and Tai, and he was a good friend of Moriana Nair, Jahnu’s cousin, so we all ended up spending a lot of time together, especially after Tai and Eli started dating. He was modest and polite, even though he was the son of the chancellor and a prominent OAC researcher. There were a lot of other kids at the Academy who had something to prove, and they were pretentious and spiteful. But never Vale. Never to me, at least.

  But then Tai was killed. I’ve only spoken to him once since the day she died, and that was just the day after. I was still in shock, and I was a
wreck—a limp, wet puddle of tears, and he held me and told me he was there for me and to just call him if I wanted to talk. I clung to him, crying into his shirt, and he just held me tighter. Then Eli told us what the killer had said about Madam Orleán, and that he thought she had something to do with the attack, and everything Vale had ever said or done started to seem insincere, like it had all just been an act to get us to like him. Suddenly, I hated him. As far as I was concerned, he might as well have been the murderer himself. About a month later, he came over to ask why I hadn’t spoken to him since then and why I hadn’t been in school. He brought me flowers. I took the flowers and slammed the door in his face. Two months later, my family left.

  And now his face lurks behind my eyes, waiting for darkness so he can pounce. He taunts me with his successes, his luxuries and the glamorous life he lives, while my friends and I suffocate underground and drink recycled pee. I can’t get him out of my head.

  I toss my tablet on the nearest table in a moment of frustration and stand up. I’m getting out of here. This cramped little office is making me sick. Where are Eli and Soren, anyway? They were supposed to be in here by now.

  I head out and wander through our dimly lit tunnels, ducking under electrical wires and metal pipes. Electricity is scarce down here. We can’t afford to have bright lights posted everywhere, so mostly we light our working quarters, the mess hall, and the kitchen. Even those cut out sometimes if someone’s using a high-powered piece of equipment.

  I make it to the mess hall, where an unfamiliar but delicious smell is wafting from the kitchen. I see Soren loading up a tray, and I head in to join him.

  “Hey! You’re supposed to be working on the you-know-what with me. It’s not even dinnertime.”