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

by K. Makansi

  “We’ll get word to you,” I say. “You’re not going to believe—”

  Eli’s already initiated the powerful rotors, and I can feel the hoverblades thrumming beneath me as the tripod withdraws, and the car lifts smoothly off the ground. With a gentle tilt, we move forward, out of this little copse of wood, out of the park, out of the city.

  As we head back to Kanaan’s, my mind races, thoughts tumbling one after another like boulders down a hill as I sort through the implications of my mother’s pet project. Soren pivots in his seat, and I want to turn away, fearing he’s going to press the question about my modifications. But he doesn’t. He looks down at Moriana’s unconscious figure, drool hanging unceremoniously from her lips, her head resting on my thigh like she’s napping, and then meets my gaze. “Jeremiah,” Soren whispers. “He’ll be heartbroken.”

  18 - VALE

  Spring 91, Sector Annum 106, 22h37

  Gregorian Calendar: June 18

  Miah is waiting in the yard when we pull up. He yanks open the back door of the hovercar and peers in. “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine,” I say, stepping aside to give him room as he reaches in and scoops her into his arms, her head lolling against his shoulder. “She’ll be out for at least an hour. Probably more.”

  He stares at her for a long second before turning to me, uncertainty scrawled across his face. Soren joins us but Eli stalks off, motioning for Remy, who was standing by the doorway, to follow him. Best he tell her about the OAC using her mother’s research.

  “Was she …?” Miah starts. Soren and I look at each other. We both know what he’s trying to say, what he can’t bring himself to ask. Was she cooperative? Is she on our side?

  Soren puts a comforting arm on Miah’s shoulder.

  “Be there when she wakes up. Just the two of you. Then we’ll see what happens next.”

  Miah’s eyes cloud and he drops his gaze to Moriana’s face, unwilling to give up.

  “I’ll talk to her,” he says stubbornly. He turns to carry her indoors, and Soren and I follow, for once, connected in our misery.

  “How’d it go?” Saara walks toward us, passing Miah on his way into the house.

  “Not good.” Soren shakes his head. “You’re not going to believe—”

  “Fill me in when I get back,” she says, gesturing to Zeke’s hovercar. “I’m going in to check on a patient. We got word there’s a man refusing to be admitted, refusing to let any Sector doctors or medics touch him. I’m going in to see what we can find out, if there’s anything we can do.”

  “Wait, this is important,” I say, trying to stop her. “The parasite isn’t as important as we thought. It’s a harmless diversion. It won’t kill anybody.”

  “What do you mean? It’s killed people already.”

  “Not by itself, it hasn’t,” Soren responds. “Only when people get so paranoid they go off and get themselves killed.”

  “They’re using the parasite as an excuse to inoculate people with their ‘cure,’ which is the real danger.”

  “Permanent genetic modifications,” Soren finishes for me. “Locks in MealPak effects.”

  Saara gasps, puts a hand over her mouth. “What do we do now?” she asks.

  “No idea.”

  “Go,” I say. “Take care of your patient. But get back here as soon as you can.”

  Saara turns to leave, heading toward Zeke’s hovercar, and I follow Soren inside. At the table, Osprey is studying a plasma with what appears to be a 3D topographic map of the whole Sector displayed in hologram. There are thin white lines running between the Farms, the corporate factory towns, and the capital.

  “Transport lines?” Soren asks, sitting down next to her. She nods.

  “I’m mapping out the best possible routes for Bear and his marchers,” she says. “We don’t want everyone on the trains. We’ll need to mobilize all our airships and possibly find some waterways to use as well.”

  “Good thinking,” Soren says.

  “Where’s Remy and Eli?” I ask.

  Osprey points down the hall. “Eli looks like hell. What happened?”

  “Soren will fill you in,” I say. “Any word on our acorns? Have you been able to contact Chan-Yu?”

  Osprey brightens. “I got a leaf delivered. He’ll be here sometime tonight. I assume that means he has an idea.”

  I pat my chest where the two acorn pendants hang, a habit I’ve fallen into since I slipped Meera’s around my neck to wear alongside the one Chan-Yu gave me when he freed Remy and Soren. My allegiance lies outside the Sector, he said that night. At the time I had little idea what he meant. Now, I can only hope his knowledge of things outside the Sector will lead us to an understanding of Meera’s final message.

  Follow the acorns to the tree.

  “The Director radioed in,” Osprey adds. “She listened to the recording Demeter sent to her. Said to contact her when our guest wakes up.” She puts her hand on Soren’s arm and pulls him toward her. “So what happened?”

  That’s my signal to go find Remy and Eli.

  An hour later, Eli grumbles as he picks at a plate of bread and cheese. “Saara said the drugs would knock Moriana out for an hour tops. How much longer is she gonna sleep?”

  “I’ll go check—” Soren says, starting to push up from his chair.

  “Don’t bother,” Miah says, rounding the corner, cutting Soren off, his words seeming to scrape against the back of his throat. “She’s still out cold.”

  Miah sinks into a chair, letting his head fall back. Staring at the ceiling, he draws in a long breath and lets it out slowly. “Okay. Tell me everything.”

  There’s no easy way, so I plow ahead. Eli doesn’t say a word while Soren adds a few details here and there. Finally, Miah gets up and pours himself a glass of water, then sits back down.

  “So this disease is a fiction.” His face is haggard as he stares into his glass. “The parasite they’re using is just setting the stage, an invention to scare people into running back to the OAC with their tails between their legs, desperate for a cure.”

  “A cure customized for each individual, programmed just like their MealPaks to dehumanize them. But the cure won’t wear off. It doesn’t have to be ingested every day to remain effective. It turns everyone into robots.” Eli’s voice is as hard as an iron fist. “We’ll be locked in like automatons while the OAC has the power to decide who has a modicum of self-determination and who gets to live like livestock, shuffled here and there at the whim of their keepers.”

  A hush settles around the table. No one looks up, and the room, growing dim in the early evening shadows, feels more funerary than last week’s vigil.

  “So what do we do?” Miah looks like he’s aged ten years since yesterday.

  “Look,” I interject, trying to add some fuel to a fire that seems to be burning down to embers, “this is not over. Right before she went under, Moriana said it’s not ready yet. It sounds like they’re working on one last piece. Until she gets that in place, we still have time. I think your success in infiltrating their supply lines, in getting people to defect to our cause, and in causing trouble on the Farms has forced her hand. She’s moving before she’s ready. That gives us an opening. It gives us time.”

  “Time for what?” Soren snaps. “How are we going to convince anyone it’s not the Resistance who disseminated this damn bug? The OAC planted it perfectly. And anyone who listened to her broadcast—which is everyone in the Sector—will believe it was let loose on the population as an act of bioterrorism—”

  “Which it was,” Remy interrupts.

  “—perpetrated by us!” Soren stands as if he’s had a sudden brainstorm, only to start pacing around the room, kicking furniture as he goes. “The brilliant thing is, one of the symptoms is paranoia. So not only is Corine telling everyone the Resistance took an Old World parasite and modified it, those who get infected will also start thinking we’re after them. So they run right to Corine for the cure!”

&
nbsp; “You heard what Bear said.” Osprey grabs Soren’s hand as he passes her chair. “It isn’t turning everyone away from the cause.”

  “So far,” Soren retorts. “But unless we come up with countermeasures, and soon, we won’t have any way to prevent thousands of citizens who believe the OAC’s lies from being turned into slaves.”

  “But we have Moriana, and she has answers,” Eli says. “Rhinehouse is going to want to talk to her himself.”

  I can’t wait any longer. I pull myself to my feet, dreading what I have to say. “Bottom line is we have to put all our energies into preventing this atrocity, into preventing my mother from doing to so many others what—” I stop, run hands over my face, trying to figure out how to put it. “Look, there’s something I need to tell you. Something I haven’t told anyone.” I look down at Remy, and everyone goes quiet, even Soren and Eli. All eyes turn to me. “Not even you, Remy, because until now, I didn’t know how. I’m just going to say it. The OAC has already started implementing these genetic modifications, and I was one of the first to be treated.” A stunned silence falls over the room. “I had no idea, until recently. When I woke up in my parents’ house, hooked up to a plasma, Corine finally told me. That whole time I was in captivity, I was only conscious for about ten days. The rest of the time I was in an induced coma, prevented from forming new memories, so they could follow up on the modifications.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Soren spits.

  “I didn’t—” I start.

  “That’s why you never suffered withdrawals from the MealPaks!” His hands are splayed on the table. Eli’s expression is black, and Miah sits up surprised, confused, and angry. Only Osprey and Remy, though clearly stunned, are calm. “You knew this whole time they were capable of this, and you never told us?”

  “How was I supposed to know they were going to do it to everyone?” I shout back.

  “How did it happen?” Eli asks, his voice on a low boil.

  “Nanobots,” I say, breathing slowly, calming myself down. “Distributed through my MealPaks. The modifications are delivered via the nanobots, which target specific segments of the individual’s DNA. ‘Optimizations,’ Corine called it. In my case, the modifications are not designed to harm me. My mother said they did it because they wanted me to experience all the world had to offer. They heightened my functionality. They did it because they love me.” My voice twists on the words. “But not everyone in the Sector will be as lucky as I was.”

  I can almost hear the air hiss out of the room.

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” Soren asks.

  I shrug and drop into the nearest chair. “Sometimes I’d tell myself I dreamed it. That it couldn’t possibly be true. Who would do that to their own child?”

  “And now they’re going to do it to everyone,” Osprey whispers.

  Eli growls. “By curing the disease the Resistance is supposedly spreading, Corine gets a political win and the rest of us are put in chains.”

  “And they’re using my mom’s research,” Remy says. “My mother, the healer.”

  “And Moriana.” Miah looks lost, his face pale, his features slack. He shakes his head, tears glistening on his lashes. “This is what she’s been working on.”

  I nod. “I’m sorry, Miah.”

  There’s nothing else to say.

  19 - REMY

  Spring 92, Sector Annum 106, 5h02

  Gregorian Calendar: June 19

  It is almost first light when the door opens and Chan-Yu steps inside. Miah is upstairs with Moriana, Eli is passed out on the couch, and Soren, Osprey, Vale, and I have been dozing on and off, but right now we are bleary-eyed but awake. We welcome Chan-Yu like a long-lost friend, a prodigal son, or a savior. That’s what we hope he’ll be. The always cool, always collected Chan-Yu will surely know what we should do next. He’ll help us interrogate Moriana—who was none too happy and not a bit cooperative when she finally woke up—and, working with the Director, Rhinehouse, and the rest of the leadership team he’ll figure out what we can do to counter Corine’s plan. And he’ll know exactly what Meera meant by follow the acorns to the tree. None of us would ever admit it, but I know that’s what we’ve all been thinking. That Chan-Yu will help us solve everything.

  And then reality hits.

  The first words out of his mouth are not answers to our questions, but questions he hopes we can answer for him.

  First: “Any word on Kofir?” Then: “Are you certain Meera didn’t have another message? Did you see any other trinket or marker on her?”

  Kofir? At first I don’t even remember General Bunqu’s given name, but Vale ushers Chan-Yu into the house and says, “Nothing on the general. All we’ve been able to find is that he was arrested the morning Meera died. Demeter’s blind to anything going on in Assembly Hall and OAC headquarters, and I’m sure Aulion’s taking no chances on a possible escape.”

  “No doubt. But high-value prisoners have escaped before.” Chan-Yu nods ever so slightly to Soren and me and turns back to Vale.

  “Yes,” Vale agrees. “But that was when the prisoners had friends inside willing to risk everything to save them.”

  “Who says Kofir doesn’t have the same?” Chan-Yu says this in such a calm manner that I almost miss the importance, and his deadly seriousness.

  “You have people on the inside?” Eli sits up, rubbing sleep out of his eyes.

  “What of Meera?” Chan-Yu asks, ignoring Eli’s question. “There must have been more to the message. Something you saw, but perhaps didn’t realize was important. Something small. It could have been anything.”

  Vale shakes his head. “I’m sorry. The only thing I can think of is that the v-scroll was in her mouth. But otherwise, there was nothing.”

  The grief is fleeting, but for a moment it reshapes his features. If I didn’t know him, if I weren’t comfortable with him now, I might not have recognized it for what it is. Then he’s back to himself. “I must wash the road from my clothes. I have traveled far in a short time. Soon we will talk. I will tell you what I know and what I think I know, and, together, we will solve this riddle.”

  And that’s it for pleasantries. I lead him upstairs to a room at the opposite end of the hall. Heading back downstairs, my fingers trail along the wall and I think about my grandfather and all the people he entertained over the years. He’d designed this old house specifically so it could serve as a meeting place. With five bedrooms plus his own master suite, it was large enough to accommodate many guests for long stays. He would tell stories about how he’d hosted the brightest minds from within the Sector and welcomed travelers from without, wanderers who came from as far away as the oil swamps to the south and the hulking fire-bombed ruins of old Chicago. People who told of the rocky deserts of the Texas Federation and of civilizations built on top of mountains so tall their peaks hide in the clouds.

  I pour myself a cup of rich black tea—Osprey found a ten-pound stash of something she calls ooh-long in an vacuum-sealed container yesterday—and relax into the couch in between Eli and Vale, who are both soundly asleep once again. Eli is snoring loudly, and Vale’s head is jerking up every fifteen seconds as he nods off with his chin on his chest. I put a pillow behind his head and settle in against his side, stretching my legs out across Eli’s semi-prone form. I sip my tea, wondering where in the world these leaves came from, and what stranger brought them to my grandfather so many years ago.

  I jerk awake when I hear voices. The cup of tea is cold against my chest and a plush blanket has replaced Vale’s shoulder as my pillow. I rub my eyes and wipe the drool from my chin, looking up to see Vale and Chan-Yu talking heatedly over the long table in the kitchen.

  “No,” Chan-Yu is saying, “it had to be these. There’s nothing else that makes sense.”

  “But where do they lead? How do you follow it? There’s no signal on the astrolabe that leads anywhere. There’s no path we can follow.”

  “There’s a piece missing,” Chan-Yu says patiently, s
taring at something on the table. I add another splash to my cold tea to bring it up to lukewarm, and sit down across from him, next to Vale. The object of Chan-Yu’s attention turns out to be a mess of various metal chains, black necklace clasps, and braided hemp fibers, each attached to a gold acorn similar to the one Vale has worn around his neck for the last six months. Some of the acorns are short and fat, others long and thin. Some of them are worn, the gold filigree rubbed off into a dim copper tone. Some are as brilliant and polished as I imagine they were the day they were made. I do a quick count—there are eleven in total.

  “Where did you find all these?” I ask, staring at the pendants in awe.

  “Many places,” Chan-Yu responds, as cryptically as ever. “Many people.”

  “‘Follow the acorns to the tree,’” I say, repeating Meera’s last words to us. “Where do they lead? And how are we supposed to ‘follow’ them?”

  “That’s what we’re trying to figure out,” Vale says, his head propped against his curled fist. He looks exhausted, but there’s a relentlessness in his eyes that tells me he won’t be getting sleep anytime soon.

  Chan-Yu glances at me briefly before he starts thumbing through the gold pendants in front of him, lost in thought. Finally, he breaks the silence. “As you know, I gave Vale my pendant when I left the Sector with you and Soren last winter. I had no way to contact the Wayfarers still operating in the Wilds. When Osprey communicated Meera’s last words to me, I sought out Chariya, the oldest living Wayfarer. You met her at the Outsiders’ gathering, but she rarely stays in one place. With her astrolabe, we were able to locate all the pendants. I brought eleven of them here.” He looks at Vale. “With yours and Meera’s, that makes thirteen.” He nods to Vale who slips the two pendants he’s been wearing from around his neck and adds them to the pile. “As far as we know there were only thirteen astrolabes and thirteen pendants ever made. After I left Okaria, Meera was the only one in the capital with a pendant.”