Harvest End

by Max Dane

  “Dr. Boyne?” said Jim suddenly feeling very much afraid.

  “Y-Yes, Dr. Caffey?”

  “I think Darcy may have been right.”

  “Yes, I think so too.”

  “We have to get to the Security Office.”

  Boyne nodded. Together they ran down the street towards the security chief’s offices on the far side of the colony.

  Darcy jumped to his feet and pulled his communicator from his belt strap. Everywhere around him the city seemed to be undergoing the same sandy transformation. He stared in disbelief as buildings in every direction showed the same signs of degradation, slumping in some places and collapsed in others. He heard an explosion and turned to see a large manufacturing freighter fall to its side at the port authority. The big ship had fallen over and was pouring smoke from several points along its port side. Additional minor explosions sounded repeatedly from the inside. People were running in all directions. He called the office of the Planet Steward. Several rings, and finally he heard a woman’s voice answer.

  “Darcy?”

  “Yes, it’s me, Nancy. I need to speak with Jason, it’s an emergency.”

  Suddenly, he could hear her crying on the other end.

  “Nancy? Can you hear me?”

  “Oh Darcy, it was horrible. He was just standing there talking to me and then- ”

  She was crying again.

  Panic was rising. He had a coppery, electric taste in his mouth.

  “Nancy, please may I speak with Jason,” he said trying to sound as calm as he could.

  “H-He was standing there, and then he just wasn’t. Darcy, his clothes, his clothes were in a pile on the floor.” She screamed, “Oh my god, it’s happening! Oh my g-”

  Suddenly the line was dead.

  His arm dropped to his side and he stood dumbfounded realizing how many small piles of clothes there were up and down the street. They were everywhere, all around the city grounds.

  “Chief, Chief, over here.”

  He looked over his shoulder to see Dr. Boyne from the damn Science Council. He had someone with him. They were waving and running to him, their faces full of fear.

  He shouted over the noise, “Doctor, what the hell is happening here?!”

  They slowed as they approached him, “I don’t know, but it’s the same everywhere.”

  ‘Have we been attacked?’ he wondered. Instinctively his hand went to the place on his belt where his gun would be. Feeling nothing, he glanced down; it was empty.

  ‘Damn; we weren’t ready for this at all.’ He turned back to the spaceport; the wreckage of the freighter was still smoking, but the explosions seemed to have stopped.

  “Darcy, what should we do?”

  “I don’t know, but the planet steward is most likely dead, which leaves the people in the port authority as the only ones who might be able to communicate outside the colony. I think we should make our way there and try to find out what happened.”

  Boyne nodded, “I don’t think we have much time, Chief.”

  Together they ran up the street towards the port. Ships of various sizes ranging from the very small communications runners to the large heaving freighter, billowing black smoke and laying on its side, covered the landing platforms. They stopped at the edge of the nearest runway when they came to a four-seater tram abandoned on the grounds. Boyne was about to jump in but Darcy held his hands out, “Wait!”

  He looked around, picked up a stick and poked the steering wheel. The branch pushed right through, and the whole top half of the wheel collapsed sending dust and sand all over the seat.

  “Doctor, what is that?” he said, pointing at the powder on the seat and dropping the stick.

  Boyne took a step backwards, “I don’t know, it’s as if the matter making up the steering wheel has lost cohesion. Changed somehow or maybe broken, at the molecular level. I‘m not sure.”

  Darcy turned back to the spaceport, the main observation tower was visible and not that far away. And it was still standing. “Come on then, it’s not that much further.”

  They made their way up across the runways and platforms, weaving between ships and stopped at the front door. He didn’t want to touch it. Glancing involuntarily at his palm, Darcy couldn’t help remembering his own office, and the sickening feel of how the doorknob collapsed in his hand.

  The three of them stood in front of the door, trying to discern what condition the building was in and trying to overcome their fear of what they might find inside. No one wanted to touch the door.

  Suddenly a voice broke the moment. “Wait, don’t go in there!”

  A man came running from inside a nearby hangar bay, his arms were full of ship components and supplies. He had a large satchel over his shoulder, and was carrying a large basket; both full of electronic hardware. He paused when he got close.

  “They’re all dead.”

  They just stared at him, trying to understand what he was saying. Nodding at the building, he repeated, “In there, they’re all dead.” He turned back and started walking fast to a small shuttle parked on a pad, not far away. Darcy shrugged and followed him to his ship. He said, “What do you mean they’re all dead?”

  “Haven’t you been keeping up with current events?” The man literally threw the components into an open hatchway in the small ship. “This whole place is dead. We have to get out of here.”

  “How long have you been here?”

  “Me? Not long, I stopped in this morning to pick up some parts for my navigation system. I’m supposed to be at the Rigel markets when they open tomorrow.” He said as he ran to an open console panel near the nose. Wires and metallic connections spilled out from inside. Frantically he began re-connecting the loose ends and tucking them away. “Oh man, why did I have to stop here?”

  Sparks lashed out when he accidentally brushed against the power conduit.

  “Damn!”

  Darcy grabbed the man’s shoulder, “Slow down, you’re doing more harm than good.”

  The man stepped back and stood up, wiping the sweat from his face. “I have room, you can all come with me if you want.”

  Next to Dr. Boyne, Caffey was near to his threshold for fear. The veins on his head were prominent, and his face was white. “Yes, please let’s go.”

  Darcy nodded and stepped up to the open panel. Reaching in, he carefully connected the couplings around the power conduit. Powered up and glowing brightly, he tucked them back into their brackets and shut the outer bulkhead panel.

  “Thanks, mister. I just need a few minutes to get the gear stowed away and program the launch sequence, and then we’ll leave.”

  Darcy walked around the ship looking for any other open conduit panels. Fear and the onset of panic showed in all of them. But it was no time to make a mistake and get into space only to learn that they were venting oxygen through some component still open somewhere on the outer shell. As he walked around the back he ran his hand along the side and noticed that he was leaving a trail. Looking at his hand, he saw a white sandy film on his fingertips. It was from the cables he’d re-attached.

  He walked around the hull and back to Dr. Boyne.

  “Look, doctor.” He held out his hand, palm up.

  The powdery residue was evident on the tips and creases of his hand.

  Jim, standing next to Dr. Boyne, saw the chief’s hand and stepped back, “Oh my god, we have to get out of here now!” He bolted past them, through the open hatchway and into the ship.

  Ignoring Caffey, Darcy said, “Doctor, this ship has been compromised. We can’t risk it in space. It won’t hold up.”

  Boyne shook his head. “You don’t know that, Chief, maybe it’s just the onset. You heard the man, he only just arrived this morning.”

  Darcy placed his hand against the hull and pressed hard. When he took his hand away, there was a perfect imprint showing the details of his fingers and thumb left in the steely exterior.

  “Doctor, if I press any harder, my hand will go
right through.”

  Boyne looked at the dent in the hull, his eyes wide and his face ashen.

  “We will die up there,” said Darcy, “either from the stress of take-off or when we try to jump.”

  “Then we won’t jump. We can wait up there in orbit until someone arrives. There’s always traffic.”

  Darcy stepped away from the ship. He still wanted to check out the main port authority offices. It was their only chance to find out what was happening, or maybe what had already happened. There was still no explanation for what they had seen. If this was an attack, where were the enemy fighters? The soldiers?

  “Doctor, you can go. I hope you make it, I surely do. But I’m going to take a look inside and see if I can find any record of what caused this… this nightmare.”

  Boyne nodded and shook his hand. “Good luck, Darcy.”

  “Good luck, Dr. Boyne. Send help if you can.”

  And then he turned and left them. As they programmed the pre-flight steps for launch, he returned to the front door of the main tower. Holding his breath, he reached down and turned the doorknob, grateful that it felt solid. Opening the door, he stepped inside and let his eyes adjust. The main lights were off, and the emergency lighting left the entry way darkened with just enough light to make his way through to the stairs. Not wanting to risk the elevators, he climbed up four floors before exiting the stairwell. This was the command floor, and it would be from here that any records of incoming vessels would be kept.

  “Hello? Is anyone here?”

  But only silence greeted him.

  The floor was dark and silent giving no sense of anyone present. He could see computers and displays from across the floor still alive and streaming data. He made his way to them, and moved from one to the next trying to piece together the events of the day. At the last console, a body lay in a pool of blood over the counter. This was very different from the inexplicable piles of clothes littering the colony. This man had been bludgeoned to death. Darcy looked over the dead man’s shoulder and spied the daily log flashing on the screen. He pressed the icon, and was given a list of dates with today’s at the top. Selecting today’s date, an audio recording began to play. He could hear voices, presumably from the very staff in this room.

  “Mr. Berry, the order from the planet steward is very clear. We are supposed to close the port allowing no ships to enter or leave.”

  Another voice, this one closer to the microphone. “Will someone get me Jason Abrams on the line, I need to speak with him immediately.”

  Moments passed.

  “Hello, Mr. Abrams, we have an order from you to initiate a planetary, colony-wide quarantine. Is that correct?”

  “Yes, Mr. Berry, that’s right.”

  “Can you give me some idea of what’s going on? The port is nearly full, and I’m going to have a lot of angry people here very soon. I need something to tell them.”

  “My family is dead.”

  “I’m sorry, Sir, what did you just say?”

  Another moment passed.

  “I was with them at breakfast this morning, and then they were gone.”

  “Sir, can you elaborate? Do you need assistance?”

  An audible click indicated someone had hung up.

  “Mr. Berry, what should I do? I have a ship asking permission to take off right now.”

  “Advise them we are under orders from the Planetary Steward to hold all ships until advised otherwise. Now, please get me the Security Office.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Moments passed, and then a scream was heard, followed by another and another.

  Darcy winced; he could guess what was happening.

  More screams, followed by silence. He pressed the fast-forward but stopped when he heard new voices. They were loud and they sounded scared.

  “I told you to deactivate the magnetic couplings and release my ship.”

  A younger voice, clearly afraid said, “I’m sorry, sir, we are under quarantine and I am not allowed to- ”

  Suddenly there was a loud crash, followed by a sickening thud. And then it ended. That was all on the recording. Darcy felt sympathy for the young man slumped over the console. He’d followed his orders, right to the end.

  Abruptly Darcy heard the unmistakable sound of thrusters. He could feel the vibrations through the floor. Running to the big window that looked out over the port, he could see the trader’s small ship slowly lifting up. Dr. Boyne and his friend would be well on their way to the local jump point soon.

  Maybe they will find help.

  Maybe. But one thing was for sure.

  He was alone now.

  From somewhere behind him, across the long room, a sharp beep caught his attention. It was a warning of some kind. Then came a second, and suddenly the air handlers shut down. Whirling around, he was just in time to see the long bank of computers against the wall all go dead. They were accompanied by the emergency lighting. It was dark now, dark and quiet. ‘The power has been cut,’ he thought. The coppery taste was back. The hairs on his arms were standing up. Not knowing what else to do, he returned to the window, watching the merchant ship rise higher and higher as they left.

  Slowly at first, but then quite quickly, the oddest tingling began climbing up his legs.

  The trader let out a loud ‘Whoop!’ as the small ship broke free of the planet. Dr. Boyne looked out the window; New Dublin was a beautiful site from orbit.

  “I’m setting the coordinates to the jump point manually. I didn’t get to repair the ship’s nav-system yet, but I can do that once we reach Rigel.”

  “Thank you, for the lift. That was unlike anything I’ve ever seen.” Dr. Boyne relaxed a bit. He sat back in his seat and discovered that his seatbelt had torn in half just before the buckle.

  The hairs on his neck stood up.

  Remembering the powder on the Chief’s hands, he rubbed the end of the seatbelt between his fingertips, and sure enough the frayed threads became white sand. He looked around the cabin at the ship walls. His imagination held an image of the ship twisted and crushed as it entered the next jump.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t jump.”

  “What, are you kidding? There’s no place in this system we can go. We need to make the jump to the Rigel system.”

  “Wait, look at my seatbelt. This whole ship is distressed. The gravity differential will shear back and forth once we enter it.”

  “Yes, so?”

  “So, the hull may very well be degraded to the point that we won’t survive.”

  As they argued, the ship continued its course towards the jump to the Rigel star system. Abruptly, an alarm sounded.

  “What is that?” said Dr. Boyne.

  The trader whirled around in his chair. Mashing buttons wildly, he suddenly groaned. Boyne looked over his shoulder to see the console inputs smudged and smashed, leaving trails of white sand across the surface.

  Suddenly an entire section of the bulkhead, just behind the pilot’s cockpit blew out and away, exposing the cabin and them, to open space. Gripping the arms of his chair with all his strength, Dr. Boyne turned to his friend and tried to say he was sorry. But the cold vacuum wouldn’t give up any sound.

  Deneb Star System, the Lester Colony

  The Juliet had been in orbit for three solar days, and the crew was still celebrating. Despite the colony-wide quarantine for the outbreak of Nova Serena Pox below, they had successfully completed the single largest trade of their careers. Everyone except Bowman had been celebrating for two solid days. It was late now and most of them had gone to bed.

  For Bowman, what began as a simple glitch to be corrected was now a stubborn anomaly he couldn’t explain. He yawned and rubbed his eyes as new numbers were returned. It was all about the simple calculation for determining how long the trip would take from the jump point to the colony. Twice now, this simple time/distance equation had been wrong, first in the Bunda system and then again here at Deneb. Both times, they made the trip quicker than they sho
uld have. Arriving earlier than expected. At first he ignored the numbers; it was probably just an error somewhere. And besides, getting there faster than expected was a good thing. Right?

  Now though, it was different.

  Over the last twenty-four hours, he’d run the equations every way he could think of, and the results seemed to change almost every time. And all the while, the usual diagnostic routines happily informed him that the ship’s computer and systems were functioning perfectly. Looking at the latest read-out, Bowman yawned and stretched his back. ‘The diagnostics aren’t working. Something is wrong here, something the ship doesn’t know how to look for.’

  From behind, he heard the quiet whir of the door to the bridge as it opened.

  “There you are, Bowman, we were looking for you earlier.”

  “Hi, Sarah. I was just running some diagnostics.” Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his eyes and brushed his hair back. He was tired.

  “The captain says we're leaving tomorrow. Want to join me for a farewell drink?” She slurred her words, just barely, but enough for him to notice. He could see that she was much nearer to sleep than she probably realized.

  “I think you’ve already had that drink, Sarah, and the one for me, too. And from the look of it, probably one for every colonist on the planet.”