Reaping (14 page)

We made scrap ball up a few years ago. It’s not complicated, mostly involves whacking a rubber ball at each other with paddles fashioned out of old metal scraps. You score a point by getting the ball into your basket that your opponent defends, but you can only use your paddle and your feet to maneuver the ball.

I am really good at scrap ball.

Well, I am better than Jahnu at scrap ball. The true master of the game, though I am loathe to admit it, is Soren. But he’s not a good sport, at least not with me. He gets all competitive and tries so hard to beat me. It’s just not as fun with him.

“You better watch it, Remy, I’ve got a big comeback planned,” Jahnu had said when I scored my fourth goal.

“Oh yeah?” I said, bouncing the ball against the wall and preparing to whack it into my basket. It went in so hard the basket fell over. “You better be staging a big-ass comeback because I just scored yet 
another
 point!” I laughed like a maniac when I beat him 7-2 in the end.

I smile at the memory of my hard-earned victory and glance around the meeting room. Everyone at Normandy is gathered here today, as well as a few higher-ups in the Resistance who are listening in remotely. The Director paces and outlines her marching orders for the entirety of the Resistance. Everyone except me; I’ve gotten no specific assignments so far. None of my skills seem to match what the Resistance needs for this mission. Since dad gave me that paper, I’ve been re-thinking my role in the Resistance. I’m just not sure how to begin. I know one thing, though: I can’t continue like this, in the shadow of everyone else’s projects and Eli’s mission. This is the third time now I’ve nodded off on Jahnu’s or Soren’s shoulders, and the hot mug of tea in my hands isn’t helping.

My eyes lock on Vale. He’s staring at the ceiling, focusing intently on some invisible spot no one else can see. He frowns when the Director mentions Evander Sun-Zi, as though he has a bad taste in his mouth. But otherwise, he looks as disconnected from this meeting as I feel.

“Our short-term goal,” Rhinehouse says, as the Director nods at him, “is to replace the modified food used by Sector Dieticians to produce MealPaks with the untainted, old world seeds Kanaan Alexander left for us in the LOTUS database. Long-term, of course, we aim for complete overthrow of the Okarian Agricultural Consortium and a return to natural farming practices and the founding principles of the Sector.”

“We must concentrate on the seeds,” the Director says, a fierce glint in the narrowing of her eyes, “Substituting unmodified food for the corrupted foods grown on the Farms will be both challenging and dangerous. To begin, we have to be able to replicate and mass-produce the seeds from the LOTUS database. This requires cloning and printing technology, neither of which we have the capacity to build without clean rooms and nanotech. This is a big operation, and it starts with acquiring the technology that will make it possible. Eli has proposed a mission to steal these machines from a Sector seed bank. Eli, would you like to share the details?”

Eli stands, exuberant. He glances at me with a little smile, and I know what he’s thinking. 
This is the beginning of our revenge, Little Bird
. I smile back at him, wondering how Tai would feel if she were here, too. But I can’t seem to muster his enthusiasm. As a member of his team and his best friend, I know every detail of his proposed mission inside and out. But when it comes to my role, I’m little more than a grunt. I can shoot straight and run fast. Once, that would have been enough for me. Now I find myself yearning for more. I try to imagine what Tai would think, what she would want me to do. Simply following orders wouldn’t make her proud. She would want me to do more, to do something with my art, to bring something to the Resistance that the others can’t.

As Eli launches himself into a description of his proposed mission, I yawn. Soren’s hand sneaks down and finds mine, and without thinking, I lace my fingers in his and renew my focus on the meeting.

“Anyone who worked in the upper echelons of the OAC knows that most of their seeds are manufactured at Seed Bank Fairview, which is one of their largest and best-defended facilities. But we’ve learned they have backup tech at Seed Bank Flora. It’s the farthest north and therefore the farthest from us, but security there is lax, and it’s a small facility. We’re targeting Flora as our best bet for stealing their machinery.”

“But Corine Orleán knows we have the LOTUS database, doesn’t she?” one of the Normandy fighters pipes up. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Vale flinch at the mention of his mother’s name. “She’s not stupid. She knows what we can do with that database. Isn’t that why she tried to murder Soren and Remy when they were prisoners, once she knew they’d discovered the key to the whole thing?”

“Yes,” Soren says. “She’ll undoubtedly have doubled security anywhere with cloning or printing machinery.”

“But without those machines, the LOTUS database does us no good,” Eli points out. “Unless we can bring those seeds to life again, they’re no better than computer code. We know the risks, but we have to take them if we hope to use LOTUS at all.”

“Umm,” Bear pipes up, raising his hand tentatively as if he’s not sure how to go about speaking. Eli looks at him expectantly. “What exactly is a seed bank?”

My father and Rhinehouse recently took Bear aside and told him that he was welcome to speak up in our meetings anytime he wanted, as he’s one of the very few Resistance members from the Farms.

“Your input is invaluable,” my father said to him. “You’re one of the only Farm workers to leave a Farm of your own volition.”

“And you’re the only one we have with us now,” Rhinehouse added in the friendliest of his gruff voices. “There are a few at other bases, but you’re the only one here. We can use your knowledge and ideas.”

Eli looks as though he’s trying to suppress a laugh, but the Director glares at him and answers for him.

“All the food you grew on the Farms came from seeds that are manufactured and stored at one of five different OAC Seed Banks.”

“Oh,” Bear says. “So every year, the seeds we plant come straight from a machine? All that work we did collecting, drying, and categorizing seeds on the Farms...”

“Was a lie,” Soren finishes for him. “They’re probably all composted and returned to the soil, but the only seeds you grew were manufactured at Seed Banks using OAC genetic manipulations, printed by the millions.”

“It seems so … unnatural.” Bear says, looking a little sad.

“There nothing wrong with hybridizing and improving seeds,” Rhinehouse speaks up. “It’s only when DNA is manipulated in an effort to shape or control the people who eat it that it becomes dangerous.”

Bear listens, nodding as Rhinehouse goes on. Bear and I have been spending more time together lately. He still idolizes Soren and is in awe of Eli and Vale, but there are times when he’s overwhelmed by it all and I find him at my side. He’s even taken to drawing, using the paper my father gave me weeks ago. Yesterday, I found a crude but clear drawing of him and Sam together walking through the woods. They were both smiling, as if better days were ahead. With a lump in my throat so big I wondered if I could ever swallow again, I put the drawing back where I found it, sorry for having looked at his private papers.

“These aren’t small pieces of equipment we’re talking about,” Zoe pipes up. “How are you going to get them out and get them back here?”

“And do we have airships with capacity to carry that kind of load?” an unfamiliar man asks.

“They’re not 
that
 big—” Eli objects, before Miah jumps in to his rescue with a detailed analysis of the amount of weight an airship can carry before slowing. I notice that the Director and Rhinehouse seem noticeably subdued, as though stepping back to let Eli assume the leadership position. Or as though they’re waiting for something. As the questions come steadily and Eli fends them off, I start to drift off again. This time, my mind wanders down Bear’s path, retracing his steps back to the Farm he and Sam originated from. He mentioned a healer they met on the outskirts of the Farm, after Sam was hurt. 
Could it have been my mother? 
I picture her with a headscarf and makeup, a disguise, meeting with Sam and Bear, doing everything she could to help. Was my father there? I’ve asked him, but he said they met so many people, he can’t remember. Are there others out there, missing the presence of the itinerant healer and poet?

And then the thought springs to my mind, as it has many times in recent weeks, that I could do that. 
We need a new artist to speak the truth
, my father said. Can I carry our message to the people who need it most? Bear and I have been talking a lot about the Farms lately, about how the Resistance needs to make a more concerted effort to approach the workers, and how someone needs to pick up where my parents left off. 
Could I do that?

“So who’s going on this mission?” the man from Normandy whose name I don’t know asks. “Who’s on the team?”

“It’ll be a larger team than our usual six-man raid teams,” Eli says. “We’re not aiming for stealth, unlike with most of our past missions. There’s no way we’re going to get in and out without them noticing we’re there. This will be a twelve-man team, including two airship pilots—one for the equipment, once we lift it out, and one for the team.”

“So ten sets of boots on the ground?” the man asks. “Who’s leading?”

“I am,” Eli says, without hesitation. The Director and Rhinehouse glance at each other, and then the Director opens her mouth to speak.

“Not this time,” she says. “Your mission to Seed Bank Carbon was a disaster. We’re going to keep you in a directorial position here at base, but you’re not going with the team.”

Soren has suddenly straightened and leaned forward. I glance at him. There’s surprise written all over his face. If Eli’s not leading the team, this will probably be Soren’s chance to take the helm of a major raid—but he admires Eli and will probably see this as an affront to his leadership abilities.

“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.”