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

by K. Makansi

  “Carbon wasn’t my fault,” Eli says, color rising in his cheeks. “We were intercepted by Sector forces, outnumbered, and—”

  “You failed to go immediately to the backup plan, Eli,” the Director says, her expression unchanging, too calm. “We’ve discussed this already. You underestimated the danger and never called the backup code. Two members of your team were taken hostage. No, you won’t be leading this mission, Eli. We need someone with extensive military training, a thorough knowledge of Sector security systems and operations, and proven leadership ability.”

  “What are you saying?” Eli demands. His hands are balled into tight fists, and I can only imagine what’s going through his mind. “You’ve let me plan this whole thing for the last three weeks only to tell me I won’t even be going?”

  The Director sighs. “You’re too much of a wild card, Eli. You’re brilliant and we couldn’t do without you, but you’ve proven your unreliability time and time again. When you get a handle on your temper, we’ll reconsider sending you into the field. Until then, Vale will be leading all critical raids in Sector territory.”

  The whole room seems to stop in time, like an arrow that’s suddenly hit its mark, quivering with unreleased energy. Soren drops my hand, and his palm slaps the table. Vale, who has barely stirred throughout the whole meeting, looks up at the Director. His eyes are dull, almost unrecognizing, like he’s so surprised he can’t even believe it’s true.

  “Me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?” he protests. “Eli should lead this. It’s his project. His mission.”

  I half-expect Eli to jump in here, but his mouth is still open, and it occurs to me that this is the first time I’ve ever seen him speechless.

  “You’re the logical choice—”

  “Logical choice?” Vale’s voice is hard, barely controlled, and he stands so fast his chair nearly tips over. “That’s the most illogical thing I’ve ever heard!” He sweeps his arm around the room. “You think anyone here wants to follow me? I’m not even a member of the Resistance. I’m not fighting your battles for you. I trained with some of those soldiers, and I’ve killed enough of them already.”

  “You have tactical and leadership training,” Rhinehouse cuts in, his voice low, with a subtle intonation of a threat. And you know the seed banks better than anyone in this room.”

  “I’ve led one real mission in my life, and you know how well that turned out. Eli has ten times the experience I have. It’s one thing to take a defensive position against the Sector, to fire back when people you love are in danger, but it’s quite another to go on the offense. You’re asking me to go to war against my own parents.”

  People you love? The words ring over and over in my head. Is he talking about me, my parents?

  “Vale, you came to us for amnesty—”

  “I didn’t come to you,” he spits. “Eli put a Bolt to my head and dragged me to you.”

  “Are you saying that after everything you still owe allegiance to the Sector?”

  “Of course not. I left the Sector willingly.”

  “Then—”

  “I will not lead this mission. This is Eli’s project. He planned it. He should lead it.” Vale pivots on his heel to leave, with all the sharpness you’d expect of a trained soldier.

  “Valerian,” the Director says, her tone as sharp as a blade. Vale stops. “You were responsible for capturing two of our members, torturing and interrogating them.” He wasn’t the one who tortured us, I want to yell, but the words die on my tongue. “Because of you, their lives were in danger. It is your parents who are already waging war on us, waging war on the people you claim to love. It’s time you decided what side you’re really on. If you’re not with us, you can walk down that hallway right now, climb the ladder, open the hatch, and go back home. No one will stop you. But if that’s not what you want, if you want to fight for what the Sector used to stand for—what it could stand for again—you’re leading the mission. You decide. Now.”

  He holds her gaze for a half second, and then he looks to my father. My dad gives him a slight nod, almost imperceptible. I feel like the air in the room has been sucked out and everything is suspended in a vacuum. Then Miah reaches up and clasps him on the arm, and Vale’s shoulders relax. He sinks back down in his chair and everyone exhales.

  Except Eli. And Soren.

  “Good,” the Director says.

  “Fuck me,” Eli growls. He turns and storms out of the room with Soren close on his heels.

  10 - VALE

  Spring 4, Sector Annum 106, 04h24

  Gregorian Calendar: March 23

  In my hammock, I press my hand against the wall and push myself into a gentle swing. I can’t think of a time when I’ve been so physically exhausted and yet still so sleepless. It’s been a few weeks since the meeting when the Director decided I would lead the team instead of Eli. I talked to Eli afterward and we came to an understanding: I don’t want to lead the mission any more than he wants me to. Since then, though, he’s cooled off and refocused his energies on other side projects. Miah and I moved in to bunk with Eli and Firestone after the team was announced. We got one of the few rooms with hammocks, for which I’m grateful. There’s a lot less squeaking and groaning of rusted, bent springs. The rest of our team is now sleeping down the hall in one room, and my only consolation is that those cots are so narrow and flimsy, I’m pretty sure it would be physically impossible for Soren and Remy to share a bunk.

  I shove that mental image aside as quickly as it flashes though my mind.

  Miah sleeps like the dead, Firestone and Eli are both dead to the world with their faces squished against the hammocks in decidedly unattractive positions. They sampled a bit too much of the nasty liquor Rhinehouse distilled from a potato mash, so they’re out cold. It was nasty stuff. Of course Soren had to note that my “delicate constitution” couldn’t handle the stuff because I was used to drinking only the finest sparkling wine.

  “You should know,” I shot back. “You were the chancellor’s son once, too.” Not my finest moment.

  I close my eyes and try to forget about Soren. As exhausted as I am, I’m unable to settle into any semblance of sleep. The room, clammy and cold, makes me wonder if this is what it was like living all those years in the tunnels of Thermopylae. For the thousandth time, I long for the comforts of my flat in Okaria.

  While I’m longing, I can’t help but summon an image of Remy’s soft-as-silk mahogany skin. I imagine her wild fluff of curly brown hair on the pillow, those thick lashes resting against her cheekbones, her breathing soft and slow as the full length of her curls into me. My heart begins to thud in my chest, and I—stop it! Get a grip, Vale. Take a deep breath. Think of something else.

  But it’s no use. I can’t shake the image swimming before my eyes, her bright smile as she looks up at me. I’ve caught her looking at me enough times to think something’s changed since we all shared that tiny cabin together outside of the old city. Maybe I should try to talk to her. The idea sprouts in my head like a sapling. The whole time I’ve been at Normandy, I haven’t once had a chance to talk to her alone. Not that I’d know what to say, but I’d at least like the chance to say something.

  If only….

  In a fit of frustration, I throw the sheet off my body and roll out of the hammock. I slip on my pants and pull a shirt over my head while stepping around Miah’s hammock, avoiding his huge feet hanging off the end. I’ve been keeping my distance, giving Remy plenty of room to avoid me if she wanted, but now the idea of talking to her has taken root, and I can’t shake it.

  The hall is dark, lit only by a trail of faint yellow safety lights running along the floor. I find myself following the lights to the room where the rest of the team is sleeping. Softly, I turn the handle and push open the door. I peek through the crack, hoping desperately Soren isn’t awake. When no one leaps at me from the shadows, I push the door open a little wider to let in more light. Jahnu and Kenzie have made a p
allet of blankets on the floor and are sound asleep, wrapped in each other’s arms. They have no idea how lucky they are. Well, maybe, after all we’ve been through, they do know.

  I wait while my eyes adjust, then edge the door open a bit more and see Soren’s blond hair. He’s on his back, his arm covering his eyes. Next to him is an empty cot and beyond that two more empty ones. Jahnu and Kenzie’s. And the darker blur in the corner, against the far wall, must be Bear. He’s not formally on the mission team, but he refuses to be separated from Soren and Remy.

  But there’s no trace of Remy.

  Okay. I know she has trouble sleeping, that she and Gabriel often sit together in the middle of the night while he writes and she draws. I head to the mess, knowing he spends time writing there after everyone else has gone to sleep. Maybe Remy’s with him now.

  Will I finally get to talk to her? My pace quickens. The night has gripped me with steely determination. Suddenly it feels like this cannot possibly wait until morning. I make my way through the dark corridors, but when I finally get to the mess hall, it’s empty as a tomb.

  Shit. My energy and enthusiasm deflates. A new fatigue washes over me, and I’m briefly confronted by the urge to go back to bed. But I remind myself that she’s not in bed, that she’s up and about, so now is the perfect time to find her alone. Maybe she’s in the lounge. It’s not much, but Normandy’s lounge does have a few lumpy old couches and chairs, a surprisingly thick, woven rug, and a few decent reading lights. I snake my way down another dimly lit tunnel. There’s a light on and a figure stretched out on one of the couches. With a blanket draped over her legs, I can only tell it’s not a man. My heart skips a beat as I get closer. I step into the room and the figure lowers her book, an actual, old fashioned, printed-on-paper book.

  “Hey,” she says. Zoe.

  “Can’t sleep either?” I ask, my pulse a drumbeat of disappointment.

  “Nah. I’m a night owl, ya know? Gotta finish my book.”

  “Hope it’s a good one.”

  She turns it over and looks at the cover. “A Tale of Two Cities. You ever read Dickens?”

  “Yeah,” I say, surprised.

  “If you’re interested, you should take a look at Adrienne’s library. She’s got a huge stash of old books in the room off the back of her office.”

  Another surprise. “I didn’t know. Thanks. By the way, do you know who’s working the comm center?”

  “Not me,” she says with a soft laugh. “That’s all I care about.”

  “Okay.” I step out of the room, but then turn back to Zoe. “Thanks for the library tip.”

  Someone’s always on duty in the comm center. When I lean around the doorframe, squinting into the room against the sudden light, I see that the woman on duty is asleep, her feet propped up on the desk, her head softly lolling back against the chair with her headphones askew. No sign of Remy. What would she be doing in here anyway?

  Where is she?

  I continue down the tunnel to where it opens into the wide underground cavern, where we’ve being doing a lot of our strength training. Nothing. It’s dark as pitch. No one answers when I call out. I try Adrienne’s little storeroom. If she’s got a library, maybe Remy’s in there. But the lights are out and there’s no sound, no movement. By the time I’ve checked the storage closet where she spends so much time with Bear and where she keeps her paper and ink, the smaller meeting rooms, the supply center, the showers, the bathrooms, and the kitchen and mess hall for a second time—just in case I missed her the first time—I’ve broken out in a full-blown sweat. Calm down, Vale. I probably just missed her earlier. She was most likely in the bathroom when I stopped by her room. I’m sure she’s back in bed now.

  I stand in front of the door, my heart now ricocheting against my ribs. The door is exactly where I left it. I peek in anyway, but her cot is still empty.

  There’s only one more place to look. Maybe she’s in the bunkroom with her dad. I pad as quickly as possible to the room where Gabriel and Rhinehouse sleep. The door is already slightly ajar, so I push it a bit wider and peer in. Two cots. Two men. No Remy.

  I lean against the wall and take a deep breath, processing. Slow down. There’s nowhere else on base to check—all the other tunnels have been sealed and are totally inaccessible. The hovercars and Normandy’s one serviceable airship are all kept well camouflaged above ground; there’s no hangar down here. Where could she have gone?Surely she didn’t leave! The thought of her out in the Wilds by herself at night leaves me gasping for air, as if Aulion followed a punch to the gut with a hard right to the chin.

  I plow through the tunnels, back toward the main hatch. Panting, hands shaking, I check the keypad to code the doors open and shut, and sure enough, the computer indicates the last time the door was opened to the outside world was one hour and forty-seven minutes ago. Long after lights out on base, long after everyone was supposed to be safely ensconced in bed.

  She’s gone.

  Blind with panic and worry, I fall back on procedure like a good soldier. “We have codes for three levels of emergency,” Adrienne said during our orientation, “and depending on the severity of the event, you’ll enter the correct alarm code at any one of the key pads located around the base.” We’re not under attack and we’re not about to flood the tunnels and drown from a break in our main water tank, both scenarios Adrienne had described in detail during our security briefing. I punch in the alarm code for a Level Three Security Event and immediately the lights in the tunnel blink on and a recorded voice blares out into the empty hallway, reverberating against the cold concrete walls: “Key Pad One Engaged. Initiate Level Three Emergency Procedures.”

  I tear back towards the dormitories, knowing everyone will be pouring into the hallway, sleepy and confused, wondering what the hell is going on.

  Sure enough, the first person I run into—almost literally—is Soren.

  “What the fuck’s going on?” he snarls. His Bolt, slung across his bare chest, is pointed straight at me.

  “Remy’s gone,” I blurt. “She’s not on base. I’ve looked everywhere.” He stares at me for a second, and then his eyes narrow and the look on his face transforms from angry and bleary-eyed to vicious and deadly focused. He whips his Bolt around his back, grabs me by my shirt and slams me up against the wall. His spare hand finds its way to my throat.

  “What did you do to her?” he demands, his voice a guttural whisper, a threat. “I swear if you—”

  “What the hell do you think you’re you doing, Skaarsgard?” Soren’s head snaps to the right, and I follow, breathless. The Director, her clothes rumpled and her normally-straight hair jagged around the edges, looks ready to kill. Adrienne rushes up behind her and Hodges stands at her side. Soren lets me go and backs away.

  “Remy’s gone,” he says, his face still contorted with anger. “This … Vale … he must have—”

  “I was the one who entered the alarm code,” I cut in, trying to save myself from Soren’s damning words. “Remy’s disappeared from base. I was trying to find her. I don’t know where she’s gone, but she’s not here.”

  Footsteps echo through the tunnels, and soon Eli and Firestone—sleepy, confused, and hung over—along with Miah, Zoe, and several members of the Normandy staff show up.

  “Remy’s gone,” Soren says abruptly to Eli who stares at him, one hand in his hair, only vaguely conscious of what’s going on. Recognition finally dawns on him, though, and his eyes widen as he stares between the three of us.

  “What do you mean ‘gone?’” he demands, disbelieving.

  “She’s nowhere on base,” I confirm. “And the door outside to the main hatch was opened almost two hours ago.”

  “Not a chance in hell.” Soren turns on me again. “No way she would leave without telling me or Eli. Or Gabriel. Where the hell would she go? You staged this whole thing. Why did you just happen to be the one to realize she’s gone? You could have killed her and played us all for the fool, Orleán,” he spi
ts. I almost want to laugh at the absurdity of his accusation. I glance around, looking for allies. Firestone’s leaning against the wall, trying to keep his body upright and obviously wondering what he’s doing out of bed. Eli’s eyes have narrowed into slits, as though any trust I might have earned from him is now in question.

  “Don’t be irrational, Soren. Vale would never hurt Remy.” Miah speaks up, shouldering his way past Eli, going eye-to-eye with Soren. “Believe me. He wouldn’t hurt her.”

  “It does seem suspicious, Vale,” the Director interjects, “but we don’t want to leap to conclusions.”

  “How can you take his side? This doesn’t seem like an elaborate set-up to you?” Soren says to Miah. “Remy disappears and Vale’s conveniently the first one to notice? And you,” he turns to the Director, “say you don’t want to ‘leap to conclusions?’ You just want to keep your precious pawn in this game, keep your fucking military advantage.” He turns back to me, his tone quiet and deadly. “Your family has destroyed everything I’ve ever cared about. If you hurt Remy, I’ll slit your throat.”

  “Soren, I’m just stating the facts, whether you like them or not. Vale would never hurt Remy.” Miah makes this pronouncement slowly, as if each word is a separate and distinct declaration. How did I get lucky enough to have a friend like Jeremiah Sayyid?

  “Vale didn’t do anything to Remy,” Jahnu says. He and Kenzie have materialized out of nowhere. Everyone bends toward them. “Bear’s gone, too. His cot’s empty. I heard him get up in the night, but I must have gone back to sleep and didn’t realize he never came back.”

  “When the lights came on, we noticed his cot,” Kenzie said. “There’re a few blankets piled on it, but no Bear. We just searched the room, and looked for his pack, but everything he owned is gone.”

  “Okay. Let’s take this one step at a time,” the Director says. “Vale, what were you doing up and about at two in the morning?”