Harvester 7

Harvester 7

  The introduction to the "Rise of the Kressa" Trilogy

  Andy Lang

  Copyright

  Layout Copyright (C) 2015 by PMO Publishing. Published 2015 by PMO Publishing. eBook design by PMO Publishing. Cover art by Andy Lang.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

  Chapter 1

  For over seven hundred and fifty years the harvesters had been voyaging into deep space, but each journey was becoming longer and more dangerous because suitable planets were getting fewer and more difficult for the scouts to discover. Terrillia was a dying planet and nothing could be done to prevent the inevitable.

  Only in the central archives could be found records of how the world had once been, but the beautiful liquid methane oceans had long been depleted, now barren and featureless deserts, the lush crystalline forests were long gone and all other forms of life had been hunted and harvested beyond the point of extinction. Only the Territes remained on their desolate world.

  Maulik entered Harvester Command, he hadn't been summoned there, he simply wanted to checkout the coordinates for the next mission. Command had a habit of keeping even the most senior pilots in the dark, which meant that crew morale was low and discontent rife, each mission was further into hostile sectors, each mission further than implied, three months estimated usually meant six to nine months actual.

  He didn't mind the distance or duration and actually relished the longer missions, they satisfied his urge for exploration. For over seventy years he had been applying to get a scout pilots licence, there was the real action and adventure, true there was also the risk but it paled when compared to the sights he would see, the new worlds, the new sensations, the responsibility. If he attained the coveted exploration licence he would be free to wander where his adventurous spirit took him, he would set his own coordinates, the days of schedules and pre-plotted courses and quotas would be gone, he would have the fate of his species continuation in his hands.

  He had responsibility of course, he was master of a two hundred million ton Harvester, Harvester 7. That was two hundred million tons unloaded, on the return trip the gross weight would be almost triple, his job was vital to the survival of his people, but he just couldn't escape the feeling that he should be out there finding food, not simply harvesting and transporting.

  "So where are you sending me next?" his mind connected with the central commander, Commander Trulek didn't move, his head nodded slightly as he sent his reply.

  "Come on, you know the protocol, I can't give you that information until you have left dock and are waiting at the jump gate."

  Maulik smiled, "And you know how curious I always am, come on, just a hint, I'm the only pilot you have who doesn't care how far, or how long."

  "You just want me to lose my commission!" Trulek gave a mental grin before continuing, "Far my friend, farther than you have been before, almost uncharted space."

  Maulik began to question but was cut short by the mental block as Trulek's mind closed to him.

  "So I guess that's all I'm getting then?"

  The commander turned and made eye contact for the first time.

  "That's all, but I can say that this trip was made for you, success might just get you a scout licence."

  With a blink of his mirrored eyes the connection was cut and Maulik understood that the conversation was over, but he didn't complain, that was more information than he had ever managed to glean before and the suggestion that completion could earn him an upgraded licence fed his dreams.

  ***

  Each short visit to the planet’s surface left Maulik feeling depressed and saddened, what his people had done to their home sickened him but that had been three generations before his hatching, the billions of Territes were now forced to live inside protective shields. The once perfect methane atmosphere had been almost completely depleted leaving only a toxic mix of oxygen, hydrogen and nitrogen. His ancestors had a great deal to answer for, their abuse of the planet had allowed a violently poisonous layer of ozone to form around the planet blocking vital radiation and destroying all life below a level 6 classification.

  Territes were of course level 8, they were the superior beings, top of the food chain. Level 8 was clearly defined, as were levels 1 to 4, L1 covered bacteria and single celled organisms through to L4 which encompassed sentient beings, considered sentient because although they displayed a low level of intelligence they understood threat, they had fight or flight instincts, it had even been rumoured that they may even be able to sense pain.

  Those classifications were clear cut and beyond debate or dispute, but then came levels 5 and 6.

  L5 displayed social activity and interaction beyond herding instincts and the urge to reproduce, Level 6 was a very grey area, it covered a multitude of possibilities. L6 life forms displayed problem solving abilities, in some cases they could almost be considered as civilizations, practising construction, performing complex interactions.

  L6 had stimulated heated debate in the Senate, many were campaigning against the harvesting of L6 organisms on distant worlds but shortages on Terrillia had swung the vote, L6 harvesting would continue.

  In an effort to clarify and end the constant debate L6 had been classified as organisms that had not developed to the point of interstellar travel, this ruling was decreed final and the debate died a slow death. The protests dwindled to zero as hard facts were laid out to the populous.

  L6 harvesting... or starvation and extra restrictions on reproduction.

  The official statement had been sufficient to silence all but a handful of hardened activists, the status quo was maintained and all scouts and harvester masters had their orders, for the good of Terrillia the harvest would continue.

  ***

  For Maulik the debate was moot, he had no real feelings or opinions on the subject, he followed orders and the rules, the decisions fell to the scouts and the Senate, each new world discovered was studied and mapped, they were thorough, harvesting was only approved after months of careful planning and discussion.

  As he waited for the next transport from the city centre out to the docking port where his harvester awaited orders to depart his mind wandered to the ultimatum presented to the population, hunger wasn't an issue for him, as a harvester master he was used to an abundance of food, and his food was usually fresh, his command crew had their choice before the harvested protein was processed and dried for the long trip home, it never tasted quite the same after reconstitution and for many he was the subject of great envy.

  Reproduction was no issue either, he had no immediate interest in continuing his genetic line, his samples were stored safely in the genobank, if his existence was suddenly terminated he was assured by his rank that within weeks he would be cloned and almost ready to hatch again, all his clone would be missing would be his most recent memories and age.

  "I must remember to download my memories before I leave," he reminded himself, thus ensuring his new self would be conscious of everything current happening in his life. Quite why many Territes wanted to have their clones in existence while they still lived was a mystery to him, and not just one clone, many wanted two or three, such vanity and indulgence. They used the old ways as an excuse, but the old ways had gone forever and the days of actual breeding were a distant memory.

  Possibly the dangerous ozone had
done his race a favour, there lingered no longer the risk of genetic imperfection. When it was discovered that fertility rates had dropped to virtually zero the scientists had stepped in and taken cloning to the next level.

  Continuation of the species it had been called, but Maulik had other ideas, he had toyed with the concept that maybe the Senate had been behind the mass infertility. Atmospheric degradation had led to a dramatic rise in genetic abnormalities, younglings hatched with brown skin rather than the natural silver, hatchlings began to emerge with more fingers and toes, sometimes as many as five on either hand and foot, and the eyes formed without the protective mirrored membrane, disgusting to behold, no reflection just an exposed pupil.

  Suddenly the hatching stopped, Ozone is to blame, was the official line. Maulik didn't doubt that the noxious gas had played its part but the sudden planet wide sterility seemed just a little too convenient, but who was he to question the actions of the Senate, they had the interests of his people at heart and sometimes the masses benefited from a little forced guidance.

  The transport arrived and he placed the two fingers of his left hand on the console, a bright green laser scanned his imprint and he was prompted for a destination. Maintaining his finger contact he pictured Harvester 7 in his mind and with the slightest electrical whir the pod slipped away floating just above the ground as it whisked him towards his waiting ship.

  With minutes to spare he allowed his mind to wander again, cloning had been an excellent solution he decided, why not continue his line with a perfect copy of himself? The copy being even better in many ways, when he had given his sample at the genobank he had been scanned for any imperfections, of course none had been found but if by chance an error had been detected corrections would be made at a genetic level ensuring his next self would be closer to perfection. Cloning had also arrested the rampant reproductive urges of his people, which he had to admit when he watched archive footage had been completely out of control in the bad old days, now continuation had become reserved for the most valued members of society, and for almost five hundred years the population had remained steady at around twenty eight billion. It was a manageable number in the eyes of the Senate, a number that could be maintained with current harvester numbers, yet he had heard rumours that things were beginning to get tight. Every suitable system within three months FTL travel was now stripped bare, a century before he remembered how as a fresh recruit he had witnessed selective harvesting, levels 1 to 4 were processed but not in such numbers that damaged the ecosystem of the host world, a world that was left then for years to re-populate. But greed and lazy harvester masters had contributed to their current dilemma, too idle to harvest several worlds on each trip they had avoided the weeks and months of travel and filled their holds with the life of entire planets leaving them dead and desolate. Their reward was always bonus credits for speedy turnarounds, too late came the scouts reports, the damage had been done and now only deep space offered the supplies of protein so desperately needed on Terrillia.

  Maulik studied the desolation outside the transport pod window as he was carried beyond the city shields and out into the wastelands that surrounded Terrus Major Space Port, he found it difficult to imagine how the landscape had once looked, Terrus Major had once been surrounded by a vast methane lake teeming with life, now all that remained was barren space dotted with rippling pools of water, the liquid had begun to form as the oxygen and hydrogen levels had risen. Water, a very dangerous fluid and one of the main reasons very few ever ventured beyond the protective shields, even wearing silicon safety skin it had a habit of finding its way through the seams and burned deep into the flesh, he shuddered at the thought and tried to focus on the mission ahead. Shortening his vision he concentrated on his own reflection in the glass, he was in the prime of life, his smooth sliver skin glowed with health and his slender physique clearly displayed his status. As with all high status citizens he had no muscle mass and his long arms were suitably thin, his was a life of button pushing, a life lived within his quick mind, he would never suffer the indignity of manual labour. He had a fair number of "manuals" as they were named under his command but he only witnessed them on his periodic tours of the ship, they were confined to the vast holds, out of sight, out of mind.

  Only one blemish he noted, the dark grey scar that ran above his right eye. An old accident from his early days in a skirmish with the Watu. He had been a junior officer then, a gunnery officer. He remembered the day well, the Watu, the only threat to Territe supremacy had launched a sneak attack and a plasma cannon under his command had misfired and the resulting explosion had flung shrapnel in all directions, many of his gunners had perished as they shielded him from the full blast, he had escaped with only a deep wound above his eye. Of course the damage and blemish could easily be repaired but he quite liked his old war wound, in a world where everyone was identical he enjoyed the feeling of being a little different, and when needed, his clone would hatch perfect with all of his memories intact, he could look pretty next time.

  He ran one of his slender fingers across the grey scar, he had actually been lucky, just a little lower and he doubted his mirror membrane could have protected his eye, now that would have been expensive to replace.

  The Watu, he thought to himself, a savage and primitive species, classified as L7 so sadly no harvesting was permitted on their world, The Senate should rule an exception, he chuckled, the galaxy wouldn't miss their marauding.

  Maulik had never actually seen a live Watu and he didn't particularly want to, the pictures that he had seen were enough, short and stocky brown skinned creatures, and covered with a strange growth often referred to as "hair," he wondered how they managed to clean themselves, his own smooth skin shed dirt naturally but he often cleansed himself with a warm methane shower, but covered with that strange growth he knew deep down that the Watu had to be a filthy race. The fact that they used verbal communication held them firmly at L7.

  True, Territes had made sounds in their early evolution but telepathy had developed almost before recorded history and over the millennia the need for vocal chords had diminished leaving his race mute, not that verbal communication was ever required, they could read the intentions of their enemies and converse directly with the mind, if the mind was developed sufficiently to cope with the input. Another strange idiosyncrasy of the Watu was the custom of wearing the skins of lesser animals, he had been told it was a mark of dominance, but he saw it as only a confirmation of their bestial and primitive status.

  Are they really a threat? he questioned himself as the pod slid through the Port shields and altered course directly towards his ship, Doubtful, he concluded, they had FTL drives but they lacked sophistication, their shielding often proved poor and unreliable and their weapons systems generally ineffective against the might of the Terrillian fleet. Maulik often wondered if the technology possessed by the Watu had been stolen, he couldn't see them designing anything advanced, maybe they had stumbled upon a derelict ship and through more luck than judgement had managed to figure out the systems and operation, with that knowledge they could reproduce but not improve, the fact that their technology had not advanced over the century or so that he had faced them only added weight to his theory.

  "No, they are no threat," he announced with confidence as the pod sealed itself against the main entrance port on the command level of Harvester 7.

  Chapter 2

  "Did you miss me boy?" he directed into the minuscule mind of the Sarovian lizard that he kept as a pet in his quarters, the blue reptile raised and rattled its scales as waves of violet light pulsed through the skin below as it showed its excitement at Maulik's return, seconds later it was scuttling between his thin silver legs all the time rattling its scales and pulsating. Sometimes Maulik wished he could converse with the creature but try as he might he couldn't ever raise more than a croaking and hissing, the mind was receptive to a point, but would never be able to reply.

  "Never mind boy," he thought w
hile he stroked the scales flat and tickled the glowing stomach as the lizard writhed in ecstasy, "We would probably only argue if you could answer me back," he chuckled.

  "Are you hungry boy?"

  The hiss and chattering answered him clearly, that was one thing he could understand, "Of course you are... you're always hungry," he grinned before selecting a sliver of flesh from the refrigeration unit and tossing it into the waiting maw.

  Patting his pet farewell Maulik headed for the bridge, it was still over an hour before Harvester 7 was scheduled to depart but he wanted to get his diagnostics checked again, deep inside he knew that the trip would be long, very long and he wanted every system in perfect working order.

  "Lieutenant Relik," he called as he strode onto the wide bridge, Relik stood to attention and the flick of his mirrored eyes indicated that he was open to direct and private mind contact, Maulik nodded and established the link.

  "Re-run all diagnostics, every system, I want this bucket in perfect working order before we leave."

  Relik smiled, "I've already run them twice, I guessed we were in for a long one when I saw the provisions manifest, at least six months worth." Maulik nodded, Relik was a smart officer and with another fifty or sixty years of experience would probably make a fine harvester master.

  "Any idea where we're going this time?"

  Maulik grinned, "You know as much as I do, you know the protocol."

  Relik nodded as Master Maulik cut the link, and returned to his diagnostics. With the computer systems around the ship sending their reports he had a few moments to study the inbound manifest again, the stream of data on the screen reflected in his mirrored eyes, suddenly he paused the flow and studied an entry, Classified blinked on his display arousing his curiosity,

  "Well that's not normal." he announced as he tried to access the files.

  "What's not normal?" asked Maulik, "Is there a problem?" He hoped not, a failing system now could delay departure for days, the jump gates required huge amounts of energy to hurl two hundred million tons of harvester to light speed and would take many hours to recharge, and by that time 7 would have missed its departure slot