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

by K. Makansi

  I pull my pack over my shoulders and we dart down to the beach, trying to spend as little time as possible running naked out in the open. Soren’s at my heels, and we wade in. It’s frigid but doesn’t seem to affect me. I wonder how long we can stay alive, even with Chan-Yu’s concoctions. Hypothermia seems the most likely outcome of this little adventure—that is, if the drones don’t get us first. I go in gently, trying not to splash, immersing myself in the water. I take a deep breath and dive under, relishing the way it flows over my face but seems not to touch it, how chill and refreshing it is but not cold. It soothes and buoys me, and I come up for air smiling.

  “Remy?” Soren whispers.

  “I’m here.”

  “I can’t see you. It’s too dark.”

  “Good. But I can see you. Your hair.”

  “Shit,” he says, bringing a hand up to muss his bright, blonde hair.

  “It’s like a beacon,” I whisper. “You need to stay under.” He ducks under and swims out further, as far out as feels safe. I follow him, feeling the current he’s making. I feel something at my side and squirm, suddenly afraid—what is in these dark waters, after all? But it’s only Chan-Yu. “Head for the ship. Swim slowly to save energy. We have time.”

  I swim back towards the light of the port, staying a comfortable distance from shore and swimming underwater as often as possible. I breaststroke slowly and easily, as I remember how much I loved swimming when I was younger. I feel as though I could do this all night long. I can feel my skin tingle from the cold, but I keep moving to stay warm. Soren’s head flashes up now and then, his hair reflecting the light from the dock, and I pray we won’t be discovered.

  Slowly, we paddle the three hundred or so meters to the ship. I pull up about thirty meters away and tread water, counting on my dark skin and hair to keep me shrouded from view in the black of night. On the ship ahead of us, I can see lights coursing up and down—looking for the fugitives? I keep my eyes low and hiss at Soren whenever he pops his head up. Chan-Yu is as invisible as I am, his black hair inconspicuous against the dark water. Occasionally I look up and see the flashing metal of a drone, but either they haven’t been directed to investigate the water or they don’t think it’s possible that we’re hiding here, because they don’t venture far from shore. I can see lights patrolling the spot where we first hid, and a few moments later, where we were stopped when we slathered ourselves with Chan-Yu’s miracle heat gel. But no one has thought to search the water.

  The cold is seeping into my skin, slowly but surely. I try to dive down, to move, to keep my body in motion without using too much energy or creating strange water patterns, but the cold is getting to me. My muscles are stiffening and I wonder what time it is. But still the lights patrol the boat. Will we ever get aboard? How long will we have to shiver here in the cold winter water? How long can we survive? I’m thankful that the lake isn’t frozen. Some years the ice is two meters thick; other years the lake doesn’t freeze at all. You never can tell.

  Finally, the lights on the boat disappear and I can hear the drones resume hauling cargo. By this point my bones are sore, and the pack on my back feels like it weighs a thousand pounds. The next time Soren comes up for breath, I tap him and point at the boat. He nods and ducks back under, and together we swim towards the ship. By the time the hull looms large in my vision, I can see the ladder towards the stern. I angle in that direction. I’m freezing and shivering, my teeth are chattering, and I know we have to get out soon or risk hypothermia. Not to mention that my euphoria at being in the water has completely faded, and now I’m exhausted, hungry, and frozen. There’s a faint buzzing above me, but I can’t see anything, and I assume it’s just an insect. I’m five meters from the ladder, thinking joyfully of the dry clothes that await me once we get to a safe hiding space, and then—

  A hand slaps over my mouth. A leg clamps around mine and a strong body pulls me under. I try to gasp and thrash but I can’t breathe, I can barely move. I kick my legs out and fight, wriggling, throwing my weight around, but he drags me down further, pinning my arms to my side. My body is slippery from the heat gel and my attacker loses his grip on me, but before I can pull up for air his arms are strong around me again, dragging me back down. I’m suffocating, I can’t breathe, I’m drowning. I thrash and bite and kick but I’m losing energy, I’m sinking, I’m….

  Suddenly he lets go. I feel his arms and legs release me and I kick hard for the surface. I come up gasping, almost crying, exultant from the rush of oxygen and traumatized from the attack. I spin around, searching for my assailant; he can’t be far. I see Chan-Yu rise to the surface next to me. He, too, draws in an enormous breath. Anger pounds at my chest. Why did I ever think I could trust him? I dive at him, aiming for his throat, but he throws out his hands to hold me at bay, his eyes flashing in the dim light from the port.

  “Drones.” As he holds out his arms, I see the drone detector on his wrist flashing a faint, luminescent blue. “You couldn’t see them. Your head was above the surface of the water. They would have caught you.” He’s panting, catching his breath, too. “I’m sorry, but there was no way to warn you.”

  I glare at him. I almost died! I want to scream. But after a few seconds of clear breath, rational thought kicks in: We were only underwater for about thirty seconds, and I was fine once I got a breath of air. His actions probably saved me from death at the hands of a drone—or worse, Corine and Philip. But still, the pressure in my chest, the pain in my lungs, and the panic of being unable to draw breath, of helplessly kicking and clawing my way through the black lingers, and the rage is hard to shake.

  “You can head for the ladder now,” Chan-Yu says quietly, wearily. He, too, starts meandering in that direction. I can see Soren’s head bob to the surface—did he know about the drones? Maybe he caught a glimpse of the flashing blue light and knew to stay below. We glide towards the ladder, and Chan-Yu gets there first. I remember he didn’t have much of the gel on him, and it occurs to me that he must be even colder than I am. He pulls himself soundlessly out of the water, and holds himself for a moment to let the excess drip off of him. He’s covered in goose flesh, and my anger dissipates as I realize he’s probably freezing. I watch him ascend to the top of the ladder, where he peers about for a moment. It’s only now, looking up at him from below that I realize exactly how fit he is. He’s thin, but in the dim light, his body shines and I can see the contour of every muscle. I almost wish I could draw him, poised at the top of the ladder. He gestures for us to follow, and it occurs to me that I should let Soren go before me.

  “You first,” I say to him.

  He grins. “Not a chance in hell, Remy.”

  Damn.

  In the open air, the world is even colder than it was in the water, and my entire body is shaking. I can’t think of anything but finding heat. I suck in a deep breath and try to keep my teeth chattering to a minimum. Chan-Yu hops over the rail and I poke my head up to watch. He moves quickly, quietly and surely, and then hops over the edge to where the lifeboat is waiting. I glance around to make sure no one is watching, and then follow suit. My feet are numb to the bone as I patter along the metal flooring. I clutch my arms to my chest for warmth and hop over the railing, joining Chan-Yu in a narrow, angular little lifeboat that sways with my weight. Quivering uncontrollably, I try to open the water seal on my pack to pull out my clothes. My hands are shaking too hard, and it takes me four tries before I can pop the seal and open the bag. By that time, Soren has joined me, and he immediately puts his arm around me and hugs me close for warmth.

  “Stop it. You’re getting me wet.”

  Soren lets me go to pull his clothes over his shuddering body, but as soon as he is fully clothed again, he pulls me back against him, and I close my eyes with relief and fatigue. We shiver together and I can hear his teeth rattling, too. His body, nearly twice my size, is just as cold as mine, but somehow comforting. I almost hope body heat isn’t the only reason he’s pulled me into his arms.
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br />   Chan-Yu, as cold as he must be, somehow seems unchanged. He is still and calm, and he breaks the seal on his pack and pulls his dry uniform back on.

  “We don’t have long before the ship departs. And the sun will be up soon, so I suggest you get some rest now.”

  Soren and I need no encouragement. We settle ourselves in on the floor of the lifeboat, and he throws his arm over me, nestling his head into my shoulder without a thought. Within seconds, he’s sound asleep. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my shoulder, and I curl up against his body, thinking I could get used to this. As I drift off, my eyes linger on Chan-Yu, who is staring off into the distance without a trace of fatigue. I wonder at how different our situation was three hours ago, and my last thought as I fall asleep, even while curled up against Soren, is that Chan-Yu never got a chance to answer my question. Did Vale try to stop Chan-Yu and fail, or did he want Chan-Yu to help us escape? With all my heart, I hope it is the latter, but, if so, what price will he pay for our freedom?

  22 - REMY

  Fall 91, Sector Annum 105, 06h34

  Gregorian Calendar: December 20

  A pale light glimmers through my eyelids and I breathe in, conscious of the cold air and the warm body next to me. Soren. His arms are wrapped around me, and I squeeze my eyes shut against reality, hoping I can ward off the daylight. Maybe then we will wake up peacefully together and find ourselves back at base. Back home. But then a breeze tickles my shoulder, teasing me, and I can’t help but open my eyes. The sky is dimly blue and purple, and a pink edge is materializing to my left. I can feel our little lifeboat swaying gently. We’re moving.

  I open my eyes fully and squint around. Chan-Yu is sitting exactly where we left him, his eyes closed and his arms crossed around his body, presumably to keep himself warm. Is he sleeping? His chest rises and falls regularly, but I can’t tell.

  Suddenly I realize how exposed we are in the rising sunlight, and I shudder and start to push Soren’s arms from around me. He groans in protest but gives way when I move him. I sit up and the wind rustles around my ears. We must be moving fast.

  “Chan-Yu,” I hiss. The man doesn’t stir. “Chan-Yu!” I whisper, louder, more urgently, and I stretch my booted toe out to poke him in the shin. His eyes flutter open and come to focus on me. He looks at me expectantly. I still can’t tell if he was really asleep or not—he doesn’t look groggy or disoriented.

  “Were you asleep?” I mouth silently, suddenly too curious to let it pass.

  He shakes his head and responds at a normal vocal level. “Meditating.”

  I wince as though his voice has hurt me. “Not so loud!” I whisper, barely audible over the rushing wind around us. He shakes his head again.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he responds, and again his voice is normal. “They can’t hear us. The wind is too loud, and everyone will be below deck anyway.”

  “We won’t get caught?” I ask, hushed.

  “They don’t usually come out and peer in the lifeboats, if that’s what you mean. Especially not after soldiers and drones have swarmed the ship. Typically crewmen on a cargo ship like this will stay below deck for the voyage. If they do come up, they won’t be able to hear us.”

  Soren has begun to stir next to me, and he opens his eyes at Chan-Yu’s words. “We moving?” he asks groggily.

  “Yeah,” I respond, as loudly as I dare. “How long ‘till we’re there?” I ask.

  Chan-Yu gives me a faint smile. “Not long. Probably an hour yet. You can go back to sleep if you want; I’ll wake you when it’s time.” But now that I’m awake and sitting up, the cold wind against my face and the open lake around us, I don’t want to sleep. I haul myself up to the edge of the lifeboat and peer out as the water glides endlessly by. Soren rolls over and curls into himself, closing his eyes again. Chan-Yu resumes his quiet meditation, and I pass the rest of the trip in silence. I wrap my arms around myself and tuck my legs up against my chest, but already I can feel the air warming. I remember once when the lake froze solid, and my father took me and Tai out to explore the ice. It was a strange, mystical landscape: white, jagged, and bleak, but somehow promising. I remember skidding around between pillars of frozen waves like monsters from a nightmare, foamy fingers clawing at us. Tai and I laughed and played for hours. Three weeks later the ice was gone, and Okaria hasn’t seen a storm like that since. I close my eyes and try to remember what the world looked like, frozen in place, perfectly still.

  ****

  When the light is full bright over us and the sun’s rays are sparkling across the wintry lake, Chan-Yu stirs again. He twists around so he’s facing the front of the boat, and then turns back and announces we’re almost there.

  “Wake up your friend,” he says to me. “We have to swim to shore.” I stare at him, aghast. Swim? To shore? Didn’t we just finish getting warm? Chan-Yu pulls out another glass vial, like the one he gave us last night. He nods down at Soren. “Wake him,” he says again. I crouch down next to him and gently shake his shoulders. He rolls over and groans again, but when he sees me his mouth turns up in a smile. An odd feeling of supreme happiness wells up in my stomach when his blue eyes alight on me, and I have the most peculiar urge to lean over and kiss him. But instead of doing that, I say: “Wake up, stupid. We’re almost there.”

  He grins at me and shrugs himself up, and I back off. Chan-Yu is watching. Or so I thought. He’s actually fishing something out of his pack—yet again—and when I look closely I realize it’s a v-scroll. He hands it to me, and I take it from him, my hands still stiff from the cold.

  “What is this?”

  “Coordinates,” he responds. I wait for more, but he doesn’t bother to offer any information as to what those coordinates mean or why they might be important.

  “What do I do with it?” I ask.

  “Put it in your pack and seal it up. Don’t lose it.”

  “What do these ‘coordinates’ have to do with anything?” I demand impatiently. He turns what I by now recognize as his “disapproving” face to me and responds slowly and deliberately.

  “Coordinates typically indicate a destination. I suggest that when we disembark and find land, you and Soren find your way to the location marked by those coordinates as quickly as possible.” He hands me the vial. “Drink.” I chug my two swallows and pass the vial off to Soren. Soren looks lost in the horizon, squinting at something as though he can’t quite see. After a few minutes, he takes his sips, and then caps the bottle and hands it back to Chan-Yu. But then he points beyond the prow of the boat.

  “Shoreline,” he says. “Not far off.” I follow his finger and see the trees arising out of the misty morning, and I can dimly make out the hovercraft waiting to cart the goods the rest of the way by land.

  “Why do we have to swim?” I ask, miffed and not enthusiastic about the idea of getting back into the frigid water.

  “Would you rather walk down the loading bay?” Chan-Yu asks without even looking at me. I frown. I don’t want to admit it, but he’s right. There’s no way for us to get off the boat without the crewmembers noticing us, especially now that it’s broad daylight. I avert my eyes out to the sea, glaring at nothing. The idea of getting wet and cold all over again is not appealing, but we don’t have a choice. I strip off my clothes and stuff them in my pack like last time, and in minutes Soren and I are naked—again—and ready to go.

  “Now,” Chan-Yu says, “it’s time.” Then he abruptly stands up off the edge of the lifeboat and hops up and into the air, over the side of the boat. Soren and I rush to the side, watching as Chan-Yu drops soundlessly into the water. There’s a moment of silence between us as we contemplate this.

  “What the fuck? Do I have to do that, too?” Chan-Yu’s head bobs to the surface, and he waves at us to follow him in.

  “Looks like,” Soren responds.

  “Why can’t we take the damn ladder?” I grump.

  “Because then we’d have to get back on the deck, Remy,” Soren says condescendingly.
“Would you like to alert the crewmembers to our presence? It’s broad daylight. They’d catch us in an instant.”

  Shit.

  “You go first,” Soren says. “That way I can push you if you need an extra incentive.”

  “Oh, please,” I sniff putting every ounce of disdain I can muster into that please. “I don’t need a push.” But inside my heart is pounding so fast I wonder if I’m going to go into cardiac arrest. I probably will when I hit the water. It’s got to be at least a ten-meter drop. I’ve never jumped from anything nearly this high without a parachute or a magnetic line in my hands. The waves are roiling and foamy, and I’m feeling sick to my stomach just thinking about it. I shoulder my pack ferociously, determined not to be a coward in front of Soren and Chan-Yu. I stand on the edge of the lifeboat and take a deep breath, trying not to think about how high up we are, how strong the wind is, or how cold the water will be. Would Tai have been able to do this? I wonder. Tai was always adventurous. She would have loved it. She would have done it in a second. I close my eyes. Could Vale do it? Can I do it?

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Remy,” Soren swears exasperatedly. I feel a light push in the small of my back and I yelp as I lose my balance and fall off. Everything in the world comes to an abrupt halt as I try to right myself, to make sure I don’t fall flat against the surface of the water. I flip over in the air and narrow myself into a dive. The water approaches slowly at first and then faster and faster, too fast and then finally with a sharp pop everything is icy and dark.

  ****

  I could have killed him.

  When he came up for air, I wanted to drown him, but he was laughing so hard he got a stitch in his side, and I actually had to swim over to him to prevent him from drowning. So instead of killing him, I guess I saved him, but we decided to call it even.

  We followed Chan-Yu as we swam towards the beach, but then all hell broke loose. The sirens on the ship started blaring and the emergency lights started flashing. We weren’t sure if they had spotted us or if something else went wrong, but either way we panicked. Chan-Yu shouted something at us about the coordinates, but we couldn’t hear him over the waves and the sirens. He took off swimming towards the shoreline, and neither Soren nor I could keep up with him. We watched helplessly as he sprinted towards the port, knowing we couldn’t—and shouldn’t—follow him in that direction. He disappeared from view and we haven’t seen him since.