Reaping

by Makansi, K.

  I nod, but don’t say anything more. I can’t quite process my thoughts right now.

  “But you’re right,” he says wryly, glancing at me sideways. “I do quite enjoy electricity and hot showers, and Sector medicine has done wonders for hundreds of thousands of people.”

  “It’s done terrible things, too,” I remind him. My voice comes out harsher than I intended, and I regret my words when I see him wince. “It’s all about balance,” I offer, trying for a middle ground. “We know the Sector’s gone too far. But do we have to live in the Wilds and abandon everything we’ve built in order to preserve our environment?”

  Vale shrugs, looking thoughtful. “The Sector has done some amazing things. We can’t devalue that. But out here, they live just as peacefully.”

  “You think you live peacefully?” Chariya calls from the front of the line. “You think your people are innocent of environmental destruction and devastation?” She holds her hand up and her horse pulls to a stop. “The Resistance and the Sector are squabbling over something that is of relatively minor importance to us. We don’t rely on cultivated seeds at all—what difference should it make to us, if they are hybridized or genetically modified to taste better or to supposedly enhance health? We get our nourishment from foods that grow naturally, on their own time. Your food, your seeds, your battles, mean nothing to me. But what you’re about to see is a different matter.”

  Up ahead, bright splashes of sunlight paint the ground where the tree line disappears, and the stream we’re following drops out of sight. Chariya leads us down and out of the trees, and as we emerge into the light, the sight before me steals my breath away.

  The hilltop across the valley has been stripped bare, cut away, and dug out. Terraces of rock and dirt layer deep into the ground, wholly unnatural, burrowing into the earth like an inverse beehive. The little stream we’ve been following drops down to meet a larger river, and where the two meet, eddies of yellow, red, and brown water swirl away downstream, evidence of chemical effluence that will carry far beyond this site alone. Where the orange-red stream tumbles through the valley, the lush grasses from our side of the river have died, and the shrubs and trees are mere skeletons, dead leaves clinging to branches that can no longer nourish them.

  “Uranium mining,” Chariya says, bitterness rife in her voice. “Of a new size and scale. This is not the first of its kind, but it is comparatively recent. I can’t take you to the mine itself because the ground is too toxic. But up above you can see the lake where they keep the slurry.

  Miah and Vale are utterly speechless. Soren looks almost unsurprised, his brow furrowed, mouth set in a hard line. For my part, aside from the clear implications of the devastation at hand, I’m not entirely sure what Chariya is talking about.

  “Pit mining is illegal,” Vale whispers. “No one’s done it since the Old World.”

  “But … I thought …” Miah stammers, “modified hydraulic fracking is the more common … is how we....”

  Soren shakes his head, bitterly, and for once does not say anything to rebuke Vale’s thoughts.

  My mind races back to everything I learned about Old World extraction practices. I remember Doctor Malik explaining that one of the things that contributed to the beginning of the religious wars was something not very religious at all—resources. Particularly water. Even as the ice caps melted and glaciation decreased, flooding many of the old cities and changing national borders, the amount of drinkable water shrank dramatically. Partly because of dams and diverting water for agriculture, and partly because of water pollution thanks to mining practices that contaminated groundwater for hundreds of kilometers around extraction sites. I don’t know much about how mines work, but I remember seeing some of the photos of the effluent and runoff from those sites. It was disgusting. No wonder everything around here is dead.

  Chariya shakes her head. “Yes, once upon a time, the Sector relied exclusively upon relatively small scale methods of deep in-situ mining, or hydraulic fracking. Although no less destructive to the groundwater, hydraulic fracking at least didn’t require cutting out hillsides and destroying large swaths of the surrounding area.”

  “But ... why?” Vale asks.

  “Listen to yourselves!” Chariya says, her voice sharp, rebuking. “Are you so blind as to think the airships you fly across the Sector, the hovercraft you drive, the transport craft you use to power your food distribution lines do not require power? That the uranium and plutonium that fuels them comes out of thin air and disappears harmlessly once used? I, too, was a Sector citizen once. Like you, Jeremiah, I was an engineer. I worked on a team that refined and designed many of the nuclear reactor cores that now power your transportation through Okaria. But as I began to understand what uranium mining does to the environment, I abdicated my role and applied for a transfer to the Farms. When I realized what a farce that was, too, I fled, and found a home with the Outsiders, the only people who recognize the sacrifices we must make in order to avoid sacrificing everything around us.”

  “I may not have left the Sector for the same reasons you did, but I don’t want this destruction any more than you do,” Vale says, his voice strong and clear. “You want to fight this battle? You need allies just like we do. We’re willing to fight alongside you.”

  I remember watching Vale give his graduation speech from the SRI all those months ago. He was charismatic, determined, persuasive. Even as he proclaimed the virtues of the Sector and spoke out against everything I stood for, I almost wanted to believe him. Now, I really do believe him, and more than that, pride has welled up in my belly and made it flip-flop in funny ways.

  She shakes her head. “You think it’s as simple as that, as lines drawn on a map? As a battle to be won or lost? It’s never so simple. What happens if you win, Valerian Orleán? Who is to say that the sins of your parents will not one day become the sins of your children?”

  Vale recoils as if slapped. His eyes narrow and his fingers turn white on the reins.

  Miah cuts in before Vale’s anger gets the best of him. “You can’t fault Vale for what his parents have done. You can’t blame someone for ignorance.”

  “Is that so?” she demands. “You can excuse someone who participates blindly in a system of injustice, who never questions where his meat and his fuel comes from, who never questions what is happening beyond the veil of propaganda and political speeches?”

  “Yes,” Jeremiah says without hesitation. “You can and you should. Vale did question it, which is why we are here, talking with you. The people of Okaria have had their agency forcibly taken from them, especially those on the Farms and many in the factory towns who have had their ability to make choices, to think critically, taken from them by the Sector’s ‘system of injustice’, as you say. Will you fight against that, or will you continue to blame them for something they can’t control?”

  “It’s too late,” Chariya says with a vehemence like a hot wind. “What about the privileged in the capital? Has their agency been eliminated, too?”

  “In many ways, yes,” Miah says. I’m struck by how he has become such a forceful spokesman for our cause.

  “No, Jeremiah. You are wrong. The people of the Okarian Sector had the chance to reject destruction before Valerian’s parents rose to power. Before Soren’s mother rose to power. That Faustian bargain was made long before you were even born. Now the Sector has chosen, and you all will reap the consequences.”

  She turns away, staring out at the ruined landscape before us. She puts one hand over her eyes to shade them, silent for a few moments. The destruction is as thorough as if a wildfire had ripped through.

  “You act as though you’re above those consequences,” Soren says.

  “As if these terrible things aren't part of our fight, too” I add.

  “We can’t tell you what to do or ask you to fight our battles for us,” Soren speaks up. “But this isn’t just our battle. It’s yours as much as it is ours. And if you choose to stand aside now, we
can’t stop them from continuing along this path, you’ve sealed your own fate as much as ours.”

  “You say those in the Sector made their decision long ago,” Vale says. “That there is no turning back from that Faustian bargain. We’ll, you’re right.”

  I snap my head around.

  “You’re right and you’re culpable. You knew the truth, yet you didn’t stay and try to change things. You left and opted out. Well, I left, too. Soren left. Miah left. The Alexander’s left. We left, but we’re not opting out. We’re fighting back. You think purifying one stream and living like nomads is going to save the world? It’s not. It’s important, yes, but your work isn’t going to get rid of pit mines like this. We believe things can change, but only if people know the truth. And we can’t help them see the truth alone. We need you.”

  “No decision has been made, friends,” Squall says. “And many of us heed our own counsel as much as we heed our Elders. But we want you to understand our situation. We’ve been keeping tabs on the Resistance and Sector activities for years, but you, if I’m not mistaken, know little of how we live. Chariya has voiced our questions and objections and we will have to think on them long and hard before any of us cast our lot in with you.”

  Just then, I hear the roar of an old-model hovercar in the distance, coming at us at speed. Suddenly afraid, I jump and put my hand to my empty gun holster, thinking it can only be Sector forces, and my horse startles and shies. But the car pulls up to a sharp stop next to us and I glance over to see Osprey driving, a huge grin smeared across her face.

  “Goddamnit Osprey,” Squall curses, “you’re so loud, you’ll bring the whole mountain down.”

  “Thought you might want to know I was coming,” Osprey says, not in the least bit chagrined.

  “Where did you get that hovercar?” Vale asks.

  “Where do you think?” Osprey replies. “We stole it from you. From the Resistance, actually, not the Sector. One of the bases forgot to lock this baby up one night, and I nabbed it.”

  “Which one?” Remy demand.

  “Not telling,” she smirks. “Ask around, maybe someone will own up to it.”

  “Turn on the silencer, or I’ll shoot the damn thing down,” Squall snarls.

  “Okay, okay.” She bends down to pull out a knob that silences the hovercar. “Now, what’s going on?” Osprey asks, climbing out and standing next to Soren.

  Chariya looks to Squall, but Squall is now shading his eyes, squinting into the distance, past Osprey and the hovercar toward where the woods open out into the valley, where a crystal clear spring emerges from the forest to join with the poisoned river. We whirl and follow his eyes to see a figure emerge from the forest’s shade. It’s a strange silhouette, though, almost monstrous. The shoulders are enormous, and unbalanced, and the figure seems to drag its legs as though wounded or carrying something very heavy. For a split second I’m afraid of it, its lumbering, awkward gait the stuff of children’s nightmares.

  Then the figure starts waving its arms and sinks to the ground, and in an instant both Chariya and Squall have wheeled their mounts and are pounding down the gentle slope of our side of the valley. Vale, Miah and I exchange glances, and we, too, urge our horses forward, riding down the hillside as fast as we dare. Osprey motions for Soren to climb into her hovercar and their doors thud shut, then quickly passing us as they breeze over the poisoned river to join Chariya and Squall. Soren’s horse plods along dutifully behind us.

  As we approach I realize it’s not a monster. Far from it—it’s a man. And he’s carrying another limp, bedraggled human over his shoulders. When Squall and Chariya dismount, bend down to press fingers to his neck, checking for a pulse, and to examine his wounds, I pull up short next to them. They turn the man over, and I realize with a heavy shock that the dirty, bloodied man is Chan-Yu, and the woman he was carrying, like a deer on a hunter’s shoulders, is Linnea Heilmann.

  25 - VALE

  Spring 23, Sector Annum 106, 15h20

  Gregorian Calendar: April 11

  The guitar feels like magic under my fingertips. After everything that’s gone on in the last few days, just holding it is a spiritual balm. With a little time to myself, I finally tracked down the man with the guitar, and when asked if I could borrow it for a while, he motioned for me to accept it as a gift. “For the courage to abandon the familiar and embrace the unknown,” he said. It’s a beautiful instrument, but I certainly couldn’t accept it, and I told him so in no uncertain terms. Then I snuck off to find a solitary spot and was lucky to find an outcrop jutting out over the mountain stream just west of camp. I need to get a few hours to myself, and I’m grateful for the chance to play music without an audience.

  As I strum and relish the bite of the strings and the warmth of the wood, I am comforted that some things never change no matter how tumultuous and terrible the times may be. Chan-Yu is still the same calm presence with a quicksilver but unpretentious intelligence, the same quiet, steady, reliable man I knew when he was my aide. On the other hand, there’s Linnea. The first words out of her mouth when she came to were not “Thank you, Chan-Yu for rescuing me out in the Wilds” or “Vale! I’m so glad you’re alive.” No. Her first words were, “Where the hell is Eli?”

  Linnea’s presence among the Outsiders has made an already tenuous situation even more fragile. Even though they don’t watch Sector broadcasts out here, they know who she is and they don’t like her. Not one bit. Her running commentary about the food, the accommodations, and even her hosts’ “unsavory” hygiene hasn’t won her any friends. Miah and I have been the least antagonistic toward her, so naturally she’s been following us. It’s trying even Miah’s patience.

  The biggest question about Linnea’s sudden appearance was how she got out of Okaria and ended up somewhere she would be found. Chan-Yu had been hiding out, not communicating with any Outsiders or Outsider assets within the Sector for months and had finally decided it was safe to make his way back home. Not two days into his journey he came across Linnea, in what he described as an all-too-convenient location, obviously looking to be found.

  “What does that even mean?” Remy had demanded.

  Chan-Yu turned his enigmatic gaze on her. “If her goal was to stay out of sight, camping at the intersection of three well-trod paths in the Wilds was not the wisest choice.”

  He watched her for almost thirty-six hours, until he was certain she was alone. Then he approached her.

  She was cold, hungry, and ill-prepared for an extended stay in the Wilds, which Chan-Yu said made him even more suspicious.

  “Playing the pity game is easy enough. She wanted someone to pity her and care for her, offer to take her somewhere safe. When I showed no signs of doing what she wanted, she demanded to be taken to Resistance headquarters.”

  Chan-Yu walked off and left her right where she was. Doggedly, she followed him. Even when he set a difficult pace through the woods, she somehow managed to keep up. Impressed, he finally relented and decided to at least bring her back to the Outsiders, to let them decide what to do with her. But not before he knocked her out using some kind of drug combination he wouldn’t divulge, and then searched her from head to toe.

  “She was wearing a transponder, as I suspected,” Chan-Yu said. “Undoubtedly hoping someone would lead her to the Resistance team, thus transmitting the coordinates of their base to someone in the Sector. When she came to, she was none too happy.”

  “Where was it?” his sister had asked.

  “Perhaps I shouldn’t say.”

  Soo-Sun had arched her eyebrow and glanced at me. “You know me better than that, brother.”

  “Use your imagination,” he’d said. And we did. After all, how many orifices are there in which to hide something like a transponder? But now we know that whatever game the Sector’s playing by sending Linnea out here, we’ve at least countered one of their moves.

  “Are you sure there are no more devices?” I asked.

  “As sure as I can
be.”

  Chan-Yu hesitated before continuing.

  “I found something else, too. A knife wound by her hip, in her thigh. An ugly wound by the looks of it, but clean. No infection, crudely stitched. Certainly not a Sector job. When I asked her about it, she spat at me.”

  “No other injuries anywhere?” I asked, surprised.

  “Nothing. I asked her about it later, when we were on mildly better terms. She still refused to say a word.”

  “She never mentioned a fight or anything? An animal?”

  “She said nothing.”

  It was only a few days later that she managed to get them into a fight with a couple of unsavory loners in the woods looking for food, which is how he came away with a knife wound in the calf and an unconscious girl to drag another twenty kilometers before he found a friendly face.

  I’ve been spending as much time as possible with Chan-Yu and Soo-Sun, trying to figure out what Soo-Sun was referring to when she said they were “bound to the same goal.” No luck so far. They have, however, along with Osprey, decided to return with us to Resistance headquarters—wherever that may now be. For Osprey, I don’t think it was a difficult decision since she and Soren move in tandem around the camp as if they were two parts of the same whole and are only now complete. I still feared that Remy might be more upset than she let on about Soren and Osprey’s fast-developing relationship, but she doesn’t seem to care. If anything, she seems more comfortable, more natural, around him than before.

  We’ve decided to stay three more days to give Chan-Yu time to heal. Since they arrived, Linnea’s been able to aggravate everyone within shouting distance, but Remy and I have also found ourselves alone more than once. Well, not alone alone, there’re always people milling about. But alone enough. Still, every time I feel we might be making progress, like she sits a little closer or talks a little softer, someone intrudes with some order of business and we’re yanked back to the looming reality of war on the horizon.