Harvest

By Elliot Engstrom

Life can only be understood backwards, but must be lived forwards. - Soren Kierkegaard

At bottom every man knows well enough that he is a unique being, only once on this earth; and by no extraordinary chance will such a marvelously picturesque piece of diversity in unity as he is, ever be put together a second time. - Friedrich Nietzsche

Chapter 1 | The Curious Creature from Behind the House

Ginger was 15 years old, far past the average lifespan of a Labrador retriever, and her age had taken its toll. Her back hips barely functioned, her bark had been replaced by a raspy sound from deep in her throat, and it was a chore just to get her to eat at least once a day. Dog food no longer seemed to interest her, so baby food now made up the menu for both breakfast and dinner. Freddie scooped the mashed beef into her bowl, but she only nudged it, seeming disinterested in the idea. Cmon, baby girl, Freddie said in the high tone with which one addresses a pet. One bite. Just for me? She looked up at him at the sound of the words, wagging her tail a bit. It was as if she had forgotten he was there, and was now happy to see him again. Ginger, you know I cant go back inside until you take a bite, he said to her. He tried to guide her head towards the bowl, but ended up just getting a dose of tongue as the dog went to lick his outstretched hand. Maybe a little walk will work up an appetite, yeah? He headed to grab her leash from the garage, having to slide sideways around his fathers new sedan to do so. The thought of his father reinforced the strangeness he felt at being home. The short period between the end of college and the beginning of graduate school left few options for the summer months, so he had ended up living at home and working his old high school job in a furniture assembly warehouse for the summer. A slight feeling of nostalgia gave him a little enjoyment at being home. However, the larger sense of wanting to get on with life made the time with his family nearly torturous. He worried that his parents took his desire to get out of the house as disdain for them, when really it was simply a natural A deafening crack put a swift end to any thought on the subject. The sound had come from the woods behind the house. Another squirrel in the transformer? Maybe, but they rarely made that much noise upon committing electric suicide. And anyways, the sound lacked the gunshot-like echo that the failing transformer always left in its wake upon claiming a furry little life. He grabbed the leash and returned to the backyard at a jog. Ginger, despite her hips, had run all the way to the back of the fenced-in yard in the few seconds since he had heard the sound, and now stared unfalteringly towards the direction from which the sound had come. She had the focused look of a dog half her age, and he was certain that, had her throat not been in such bad

condition, she would have been barking up a storm. She looked hopefully from Freddie to the gate. I guess we can check it out, he said to her. Putting the leash around her neck, he opened the back gate. The dog, the age of a great-grandmother by canine standards, pulled with a determination he had not felt from her in years. Goodness, you must smell something, he said to her, this time lacking the high tone, as he held her back by the collar instead of the leash. In earlier times he would have simply jerked the leash back in response to her persistent forward pull, but now opted against this for fear of hurting her fragile neck. On the way down to the creek as this is where Ginger was certainly heading he passed the mess of platforms nailed up in a tree that he and Chris had once intended to be a tree house. The only real value that the project ever produced came from the memory of building the structure over ten years ago, as it certainly did not end up serving any semblance of the purpose they had intended. Dreams of hiding in an impenetrable tree fort, spotting deer and fox in the woods, and throwing water balloons at neighborhood girls who would inevitably fall into their genius traps had given way to a dangerous mess of boards and nails that had served as a fertile breeding ground for daddy long-legs, but little else. Considering Freddies aversion to the spider-like creatures, it had been many years since he had attempted a foray up into their former dream land. The grass between the creek and the woods had grown up considerably since he had last been there in high school. Freddie continued to be amazed at the strength of his elderly dog, which he had to forcefully guide around the grass for fear of ticks. Sorry sweetie, but I dont plan to spend my evening pulling bloodsuckers off of you, he said as he pulled her away from the grass. Or me, actually, he thought glancing back at the grass, now behind him. Freddie tried to hold Ginger firmly but gently, not wanting to put any unneeded strain on her aged neck. It all went wrong in an instant. A cry like a wounded bobcat came from the creek, and Ginger darted out of Freddies grasp before he even knew what was happening, not having anticipated such a burst of energy from the old dog. She darted away with a speed he had not seen since she used to play-fight with her sister, a black lab who had died just a few months before. Ginger went straight down a rock face and out of sight before Freddie heard a splash.

He dashed after her as fast as possible. The fact that his dog was now out of his grasp and could be in harms way made him realize just how much he cared for the furry animal. Ginger! he called out as he ran. Ginger! Freddie slid down the rock face, following her directly into the creek. Before he knew what had happened, he was waist deep in the water, taking in an alarming scene. The halfsecond that he had to process the situation kept his brain from being able to make anything meaningful out of the rush of new data. Ginger was locked in a ferocious brawl with a muscular gray creature at least twice her size. He could not tell if it was a reptile or a mammal, but did not care at the moment. Freddie charged at the death-locked animals, tackling the creature and leaving ginger lying on the ground behind. It only took a second to realize that he was no match for the animal, which looked and felt like it had been carved out of stone. With a swift kick from its hind legs, the creature sent Freddie rolling away in disarray, and then was back on top of him in an instant. He punched, kicked, and even bit whatever came near him, desperately trying to escape the creatures grasp. Then suddenly, it was off of him, once again battling the yellow Lab, who apparently had returned to the fray. Ginger, no! he screamed, picking up a heavy rock from the creek and running at the animals, who were once again locked together in a ball that was hissing, barking, roaring, and he saw with terror bleeding. Reaching the fight, he smashed the rock over the creatures head. It howled, seemingly more with rage than pain, and turned to face him. Before it could act, he swung the stone again, hitting the creature in the side of the head and knocking it off balance. In a half-second of astonishment, Freddie realized that the rock had been split in half upon contact with the creatures head. It was only a matter of seconds before the creature righted itself as agilely as a cat, and as the animal looked at Freddie with unmistakably blood-red eyes, Freddie hoped that the god he had so recently rejected was in fact fiction. But suddenly, with a single leap into the surrounding woods, the creature disappeared from sight. Freddie turned back to Ginger, fearing that the creature would return at any moment. She was lying on the ground, breathing hard and bleeding profusely. Oh, sweetie, he said, suddenly with tears in his eyes. Oh, baby girl, no.

With intense effort, Ginger looked up at the sound of the voice. Once again, it seemed she had forgotten he was there, and was happy at his presence. Then, she shuddered once, and stopped moving.

Freddie entered the backyard, carrying Gingers limp, lifeless body on his back. Her blood had leaked all over him, and upon putting her down he realized that he could now not tell if he had bled or not during the fight. Only now were his adrenaline levels returning to normal, as during the entire walk back he was certain that the creature would return to finish him off. But it had not returned. Apparently, whatever the mystery animals motives, hunger was not one of them. At least, not at the moment. He set Ginger down gently on the porch. Freddie! Oh my God! Are you okay! What happened? his mother yelled seemingly all at once as she sprinted out of the house, having seen Freddie emerge from the woods. Gingers dead, and we need a big gun, he said without thinking, his voice shaking. Something, some animal, was back in the woods, and she went after it. He was silent for a moment, looking at the shredded canine form. She probably saved me, honestly. His mother breathed in loud sobs, tears now welling up in her eyes. Oh my God, are you sure youre okay? Are you hurt? Youre bleeding! Freddie, youre bleeding! Im calling an ambulance. The panicked words all came out in a jumble. No, mom, its okay, Freddie said in a monotone voice, recollecting himself at the sight of his crying and distressed mother. He found it difficult to cry or be emotional while anyone around him was in such a state. It was why he rarely teared up at funerals. Its not my blood, its hers. Oh my god, she repeated, breathing heavily. Oh my god, she repeated, this time louder, in a higher pitch, and with emphasis on the final word. I heard a sound back in the woods, and took her to check it out, he said. She just got away from me. I justcouldnt hold onto her. She was still stronger than I realized. Trooper to the end, Freddies mother said, with a voice that was becoming even shakier and interrupted with sobs as she took in the dead dog. What was it? The other animal?

Thats the thing, he said, still breathing heavy and fast with the effort of carrying the dog. I dont know. It was like some sort of mountain lion. I dont think there are too many mountain lions around Charlotte, she said. Could it have been a bobcat? Or a fox? Maybe, he said. I really dont know, it happened so fast. It would have to have been a huge bobcat though. Yeah, that might be what it was. It had been no bobcat, and he knew it. No bobcat has skin that can chip a tooth, as he now realized his had been when he had attempted to bite the creature. But there was no point in worrying his mother any more at the moment. With any luck, whatever it was would cause trouble in the wrong area, and end up getting shot. The woods behind his suburban house were certainly no forest, and there were neighborhoods on every side. Someone else would have to spot it eventually. He would turn on the local news in the morning and see if any large animals had been sighted or caught. Im going to wait until the morning to bury her, he said, after a few moments of silence. I really need to wash up and lay down.

Freddie woke with a start. It was still dark out. For a hopeful moment he thought it had all been a dream. Then, within a few seconds, it all came back to him. He lied in bed, repeating the situation in his head over and over. While going through the sequence of events, he realized that he had never investigated the source of the loud noise that had catalyzed the chain of events in the first place, nor had he even attempted to look for it. As soon as the creature had leapt away, he had taken Ginger and gotten back to the house as quickly as possible. Animal survival instincts kicking in, I suppose, he thought to himself. Fight or flight. Sympathetic nervous system in near-total control. He reached for his phone and pressed the unlock code, checking the time once it illuminated. It always surprised him how bright something like an LCD screen on a phone could appear through pupils that had dilated during prolonged darkness. Once he could make out the numbers at the top of the phone, he realized that he had slept for nine solid hours. Still, that only

made it 4 a.m., as he had gone to bed quite early after the exhausting events of the previous evening. What had made that loud cracking sound? Could the creature be related to it? Our power didnt go out, so it doesnt seem likely that it was a blown transformer, he thought. And anyways, I knew as soon as I heard that sound that it wasnt anything to do with electricity. Too high-pitched, and too short of a sound. No, this was something unusual. And if theres one thing that creature certainly was, other than scary as hell, it was unusual. It was a weak connection, but to his groggy mind, it was something. Now why on earth am I doing this, he thought as he got out of bed and dressed himself in blue jeans, boots, and a flannel shirt. I must be suicidal. As he turned on the light, the black and white kitten on the bed gazed at him and yawned. She purred lightly, hopping off the bed and walking ahead of him out of the room, periodically looking back to ensure that he was heading where she hoped. I know you, he told the kitten as he scooped it up before descending the wooden staircase. You dont like me, you just think Im gonna feed you, dont you? The kitten pushed its head against his shoulder as if to argue the contrary. Yeah, I used to think that was sweet, he said to her. Then I got smart. Just trying to rub your scent on me, huh? Just claiming me as your property, right? Freddie reflected briefly on what sort of property rules would apply in a society of kittens. Would a kitten John Locke argue that once an individual had rubbed his scent on an object, he had now mixed his labor with it, and thus had acquired it as property morally defensible under natural law? Or perhaps a mutualist kitten (a kitten Proudhon perhaps?) would argue that once the applied scent had faded, the object was no longer in use, and was thus no longer property? He threw aside such thoughts, and dumped food in the kittens bowl before unlocking the back door and heading outside, making as little noise as possible as to not wake his mother. Freddie deliberately avoided going through the back yard. It had been 15 years since he had stepped into the back yard without a dog wagging its tail and peeing itself in excitement at the sight of him, and he didnt feel that now was the moment to break the trend. He instead went around the right side of the house, walking along the fence and heading towards the woods.

With a child-like excitement, he remembered that his mother had put a salt lick out on the edge of the woods a couple of weeks ago, and thought that maybe he would get to glimpse a few deer having a snack before they noticed him and fled. Upon reaching the salt lick, Freddie froze. Animal parts littered the ground surrounding him, one of them the completely decapitated head of a six point buck. Immediately, he turned and ran back towards the house, cursing himself for being stupid enough to come back out into the woods alone. He knew not only how fast and strong male deer were, but also how good they were at avoiding predators, and any animal that could do this to a buck was a creature with which he needed have no business. Stop. The low voice, almost a growl of a word, came from behind Freddie, who froze. After a pause of several seconds, during which he expected the worst but did not receive it, he turned around to see the speaker. A gray figure, at least seven feet tall and too wide for its height, gazed at Freddie through blood red eyes. It was humanoid in form, but no human. However, before he had a chance to process any more detail of the figure, Freddie realized what else stood before him the mystery animal he had encountered the day before, which he now could clearly see was no bobcat. One look at the creature was all Freddie needed he turned and ran. His final three seconds of sensory perception entailed a phrase yelled in a foreign tongue and a swift blow from behind.

Chapter 2 | The Secret on the Surface

A day earlier and approximately 25 light years closer to the galactic center, three gray figures sat on their hind quarters in a cave on the planet Harm, their legs pulled up in front of them with their knees at eye level, their broad, shield-like backs sticking out from behind their huddled up bodies like the shells of giant beetles. Their choice of a cave as the meeting place, while secluded, did not necessarily entail a secret meeting. Rather, it was the natural choice. With no moon to serve as a stabilizing force, the planets rotation generated furious winds that carried debris traveling at bullet speeds. While their species had long ago evolved nearly impenetrable skin and broad, protective backs to overcome exactly this environmental challenge, the gray creatures still preferred comfort to difficulty when possible. Nor did their choice to meet before sunrise necessarily dictate that this event was being held in secrecy. In terms of the ability to hide ones self, the time at which one conducted an activity made little difference on Harm. The planets position at the midpoint between the galactic nucleus and outer rim resulted in a night sky with stars so luminous, large, and numerous that they covered the planet in de facto daylight even when any given side faced away from the planets orbital star. No, it was neither the particular environment on the planets surface nor the fact that the point of the surface on which they sat currently faced away from the orbital star that hinted at the secrecy of this rendezvous. Rather, it was the fact that the meeting was being held on the surface of the planet at all. Harmans had ages ago ceased to spend much, if any, time on the surface of their native planet. While they owed to its extremely harsh environment the fact that they had evolved into such truly marvelous creatures, this did not change the fact that Harmans, just like humans, sought to remove uneasiness from their lives whenever possible, and this generally meant living either aboard the Harman Flotilla or on one of the many colonies or tributaries of the Harman Empire. I cannot imagine why you have called us here, one of the figures said in a low, cracked voice. The idea of intervening in the Harvest is laughable on countless levels, even if we do find it detestable, an idea of which I still am not fully convinced. And even if we were to decide

that action were necessary, there is no action to take. Tell me, Molleus, what is the point in risking open rebellion that could culminate in galactic war if there is no chance of success? Another voice responded, almost immediately, yet slower in pace. You mistake my intentions, Grophus, the voice said. I do not mean for us to resist the Harvest ourselves. Rather, I mean to inspire resistance in humanity. I wish to shift the paradigm of galactic power. Humanity? a third voice broke in with a laugh. Your plan is based on the competence of humanity? I certainly believed you had something better in mind when I risked life and limb to travel to the surface. I only ask that you hear me out, Naphaeus, Molleus stated in a calm voice. If you think me wrong at the end, it would be easy enough for you to take me to the flotilla and turn me in as a traitor, with no harm done to yourself. You know I would never commit such a heinous act, Naphaeus responded forcefully. And, I think you overestimate the mercy that would be shown me by the Council. Meeting with you is more than enough to justify a conviction under the new Harvest Code. I know, friend, Molleus responded in a gruff whisper. Still, I know it is at great risk to yourselves that you have come here, and I thank you for that. I have told you nothing of why you are here, but you must realize this is only even more evidence of the sensitivity of the topic at hand. If the message had been intercepted, even receiving it could be viewed as a crime against the empire. Please, Grophus cut in. We have learned to value your judgment. We have no qualms about responding to your request, and without question. But time grows short, and we must not risk being found here. The transporters are already prepared for immediate departure if that be necessary, but even so I would prefer to leave on my own terms and not in flight from the Flotilla Guard. Please, tell us your thoughts.

The Harman Flotilla rotated around its inhabitants home world like a massive planetary ring. Chief Navigator Nead surveyed the various instruments on the bridge of one of the many capital ships. It was his job to make sure the flotilla maintained its perfect orbit around Harm.

However, his task was less one of making anything in particular happen, and more one of making sure certain things did not happen. Once an object reached the requisite speed, it could in essence fall constantly around the planet without ever landing, thereby using the gravity of the planet to maintain orbit without expending any energy at all. But Chief Navigator Neads job was not to make one ship stay in orbit around the planet. His job was to make sure thousands of ships remained in orbit, while not falling through the atmosphere or colliding into one another. It was for this reason that he was alerted any time an unauthorized ship arrived to or departed from the flotilla. And it was for this reason that three aids were sprinting into his office in a panicked jumble. One aid pushed in front of the other two, and stood straight in front of Nead. Permission to report, the aid growled. Nead took a moment to look the aid up and down. He was large, even for a Harman. Certainly not a navigational aid by trade, which made Nead wonder why he had engaged in the weasely tactic of pushing in front of other aids for the chance to report important news. Permission given, Nead said with a bored tone. He assumed that this was one more tale about an unauthorized ship arriving to the flotilla. While such matters technically did need to be reviewed by him, he already could speculate as to the likely end result of his investigation. Possible culprits of the irregularity flashed through his mind black market traders, some pathetic rebel group, or more likely an arriving ship with an incompetent navigator who failed to properly alert the flotilla of their arrival. Chief Navigatorthree unauthorized shuttles left the flotilla within the past hour, the aid said. Very well, Nead responded. Leave your reports. I will have my staff sort through the information and take action if necessary. Certainly, sir, the aid said. Sirits just that, these shuttles were heading to the surface. At this information, Neads head snapped upwards. What did you say? he barked at the aid, taking an urgent step closer. The shuttlesthey left at different times, but all were heading to the planets surface, and all for the same general area. The ships were extremely small and were almost not noticed, as they cloaked themselves as soon as they were sufficiently far from the flotilla. However, we

plotted their courses based on their trajectories before the cloaking was activated, and all three courses converge on roughly the same area.