The Harvest (19 page)

The spy paused at a hatch and tapped his
fingers across a screen bearing strange symbols. The door sprang
open, and he walked down a narrower tunnel with no portholes in it.
He glanced over his shoulder to see the door close behind him. At
the end of the dimly lit passage, which Shane presumed led toward
the center of the ship, he came to another hatch. This one had a
bright yellow symbol on it, three spheres connected by the corners
of a triangle. The color and design conveyed “warning,” and he bet
the foreign writing below the symbol did the same. The spy entered
a passcode, and the four-foot-thick hatch slid into an even thicker
wall.

He stepped into a cavernous, cylindrical
room. A massive column of bright white light extended from the
bottom, which was a hundred feet below the metal grates he stood
on, up to the arched ceiling as high overhead.

“This is the primary reactor for an Anunnaki
ship,” a female voice said. It sounded dubbed in the film after it
was made. “Only engineers are typically allowed in this
chamber.”

“How can I help you, sir?” an Anunnaki in a
white jumpsuit asked. There was reverence in his voice, and he
saluted the same way the Shock Troops did in the outer passageway.
But it was also clear that this was his area, and he wasn’t going
to have anyone loitering about who didn’t belong. He had a bald
head, looking very different from Lily, Jones, and all of their
clones. Shane wondered if it was the fashion for the engineers or
if they were specifically cloned for this job.

“We need more soldiers,” the voice behind the
camera growled. “Your department is being cut by ten percent.”

“What?” The engineer leaned closer, his eyes
widening. “We were cut by ten percent last quarter. My people are
already taking double watches to keep up with the added workload.”
His tone was nervous, like he feared he might be crossing the
line.

“Do you question the orders of the Fleet
Admiral and the Prime General?” The spy’s voice grew deeper and
louder, seeming to take advantage of the engineer’s weakness.

“Of course not, sir,” the engineer responded.
“But we need to stop losing staff, or we won’t have enough people
to keep the reactor functional.”

“Worry not,” the spy replied dismissively.
“We are approaching a new system. There are two planets whose
populations are mature enough to harvest. We’ll get the
reinforcements we need, and then you can have your people
back.”

“The ones who survive,” the engineer
grumbled.

“Don’t be absurd,” he scolded. “Your people
will be used to support the command and logistics teams—they are
not fit for combat.”

The engineer seemed insulted for an instant.
“The enemy gets stronger each time we encounter them,” he
retaliated.

“They will be stopped,” the spy snapped.
“Have your volunteers report to the armory at first watch.”

The engineer dared a cold glance at the spy,
but he brought his fist up over his chest at the same time, his
firm salute an affirmation of his obedience.

After a sweeping gaze at the reactor chamber,
the spy returned to the outer part of the ship via the narrow
passageway. The screen changed to a debriefing of what just played.
Snapshots of the reactor and control panel were shown and different
ways to destroy the reactor discussed.

The lecture complete, Shane took the
headphones off. Clearly, the point of the video was for him to gain
an understanding of how to destroy an Anunnaki ship, but the
interaction between the spy and the engineer intrigued him almost
as much. He wondered about the enemy they spoke of. It must be one
or more species like the humans, who were resisting Anunnaki rule,
but who also had the technology to fight back with some degree of
success.

“The girls are all done.” Kelly’s soft voice
brought him out of his reflection.

“Oh, great.” He smiled at her. “Thanks.”

Shane collected his towel and bag of issued
toiletries, heading to the bathroom. His legs didn’t want to move;
he was so beat from the day. How many hours before it all started
again? He glanced up at the high windows and could see it was dark.
If he hurried, he might get six or seven hours of sleep before
Captain Jones came in, yelling at them to get on the line.

When he walked by the Koreans’ quad, they
stopped talking and watched him pass. The same happened at the
Finnish and Chinese quads.

“You guys won the day, mate,” Liam said,
holding the bathroom door open for him. “The Americans are now the
ones to beat.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a great thing since
the prize is most likely a suicide mission,” Shane mumbled.

“Don’t worry, mate,” Liam replied with a
weary version of his earlier humor. “We’ll take the burden from you
tomorrow.”

Returning his smile, he entered the bathroom.
It was filled with steam, the five showers occupied. Shane brushed
his teeth, his mind adrift with what he’d done today. It felt like
a week had passed since they awoke to push-ups. A shower opened. He
stuffed his toothbrush in his bag and rushed to take it before
anyone else could.

“Hey look,” the tall, blond Russian said as
Shane stepped out of the shower. As usual, his two goons shadowed
him. Shane had learned his name was Petrov earlier in the day when
Anfisa yelled it. “It’s the lucky American.”

“Yeah.” Shane chuckled, throwing his towel
over his shoulder and quickly slipping on fresh underwear and
shorts. Steve might be cool with fighting these assholes naked, but
Shane wasn’t. “Keep telling yourself luck had everything to do with
it,” he said, straightening up and glaring at them.

“Oh, you don’t think so?” Petrov made a
condescending expression. “Well, we will see. The luck of
beginners, I assure you.”

“Because you guys did so well when we fought
today too,” Shane replied, regretting he hadn’t kept his mouth
shut. Underneath his overconfident, grinning, tough-guy act, Petrov
looked pissed. And he was too darn tired to fight right now.

“Be careful, lucky American. We don’t want
our hero to slip and bump his face like his friend. Eh?”

The three boys broke into their hyena
cackling. Shane stared at them until they entered shower stalls. He
encountered Maurice and Steve as he headed out of the bathroom.

“Watch your backs,” Shane warned, pointing at
the showers. “Numbnuts and his losers are in here.”

“Maybe I should get an icepack for the little
one’s giggle-berries,” Maurice said with feigned sincerity. “Though
I think Kelly kicked him so hard that they may be in the back of
his throat.”

They laughed, and Shane headed to the quad.
He was dog-tired, but not looking forward to sleeping in a room
with forty-eight other people.

He rolled into his rack and stared at the
bottom of Steve’s bunk above him until it grew blurry.

“Everybody, on the line!” Jones’ voice jarred
him awake.

The lights were on, blinding him. Had he just
fallen asleep? Or was it morning?

Shane rolled out of the rack, every muscle in
his body sore. He fell into his shoes and stumbled to the line.
Kelly stood blinking groggily on the girls’ side directly across
the aisle. Her honey-blond hair was damp from her shower. Thank
goodness, it was still night. He’d only slept for a few
minutes.

On his left stood Steve and Maurice, Shane
being the first one in the row. He could see Captain Jones in the
periphery of his vision and could see someone stood next to him,
but he kept his head straight, eyes on Kelly. The right side of her
lips turned up slightly—a simple gesture, but it warmed him
through.

Jones gave a recap of the day, and Shane
barely heard half of it. He hadn’t had a chance to stop and just be
alone with Kelly since the night before, and the sudden intimacy of
being four feet apart, staring into each other’s eyes, was
invigorating. He forgot about his exhaustion, forgot his sore
muscles, suddenly wanting to pull her close and feel her lips on
his once again.

“… and we have decided which of you is to be
replaced,” Jones said.

Jones’
words snatched Shane’s attention.

“We can’t afford to keep anyone here who
doesn’t perform as expected. We must have the best people possible
for these missions if we are to survive.”

He held his breath. What if they took Kelly?
Shane wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her. He wouldn’t have been
motivated to fight—to stay alive.

“Ivan Anitov,” Jones announced, “please come
with me.”

Shane exhaled. It was one of the Russians,
thank goodness. He’d rather have seen Petrov, who he considered
downright evil, leave, but with one of his cronies taken away,
maybe Petrov would mellow out.

Anfisa stepped into the aisle, anger seething
in her voice. “Why would you take him? We are the best trained and
most qualified people here.”

“We will not explain our motives,” Jones
replied calmly. “You must trust that we know the enemy better than
you, and the final teams will be composed of those people who we
feel have the greatest chance of success. Return to the line.”

Although he didn’t move his head to look at
her, in the periphery of his vision, Shane saw the hotheaded
Russian girl stand her ground for a moment. But Jones’ gaze must
have been enough to end the argument—without another word, she
stepped back in line.

“This is Vlad Poisek,” Jones growled. “He is
the replacement.”

Anitov walked down the aisle toward the exit,
his head low, his shoulders slumped with defeat. He was the smaller
of Petrov’s two thugs, the one who Tracy had tripped earlier in the
day and then Kelly had kicked in the balls during sparring. He’d
also cheated during the flag-capturing game.

Vlad walked by, heading in the other
direction. He was tall and blond like Petrov, though he looked to
be carrying at least forty more pounds of muscle.

“The rest of you, get some sleep,” Jones
ordered, turning out the lights as he followed Anitov out of the
barracks.

When the door shut, the kids broke into
hushed conversation.

“Where do you think they’re taking him?”
Maurice asked, clearly concerned about the possibility of being
eliminated.

“Probably putting him with the regular
troops,” Tracy replied casually. “They said they’re preparing small
armies of teens to back us up.”

“He’s better off than we are,” Laura said. “I
get the feeling they’re training us to die.”

“You don’t know that,” Jules scolded,
frowning at her. “And even if it’s true, have you watched any of
the loop?” She pointed toward the TV on the other side of the quad.
“The Anunnaki will put us on the front lines in a war against their
enemies. I’ll take the suicide mission over fighting for them any
day. Anyone who doesn’t agree is a coward.”

“What did you just call me?” Laura stepped
around Tracy and looked up at Jules. The dim light coming from the
bathroom revealed the concern in her eyes transforming into anger.
Shane took a step closer, ready to jump between them.

“Nothing,” Jules replied, a slight smile on
her face. “But your willingness to kick my ass is probably the
reason you’re here. You’ve got more fight in you than I think even
you realize.”

Laura blinked, the comprehension that Jules
had just paid her a compliment taking a moment to sink in.

“She’s right,” Shane said, hoping to get the
attention off Laura. “We are all here for a reason. The rebels have
a lot of experience in dealing with the Anunnaki, so I think we
just have to trust their judgment and do what we’re told for now.”
He wasn’t convinced of what he was saying, but he couldn’t afford
to have his team lose their focus.

They nodded and made sounds of agreement.
Shane’s eyes found Kelly’s again. When Jones was announcing who was
to be replaced, he feared it might be her. And now, he felt a surge
of guilt for wanting to see her go. If she was replaced, she might
live. But if he did anything to get her eliminated, she’d hate him
forever.

Down the aisle, Anfisa’s voice grew shrill.
She was scolding the members of her team, angry over losing
Anitov.

“Wow,” Steve said, his eyes wide. “Glad I’m
not one of them.”

“Yeah,” Maurice added. “Not a very warm
welcome for poor Vlad.”

Chuckling, Shane and the rest of his team
crawled into their racks. Soon the barracks grew quiet, the sound
of heavy breathing and snores building into an annoying symphony, a
constant reminder that he wasn’t asleep.

When he closed his eyes, his mind raced,
spinning out of control to the point where he was short of breath.
Opening his eyes only made him feel how heavy they were, made him
painfully aware of his exhaustion and of how he desperately needed
sleep.

There was a rustling, and his sheet lifted.
Startled, Shane opened his eyes and saw Kelly slipping into his
bed.