Harvest Time

18 - Hallandra

"You've checked everything?" I asked, nervously, rubbing my neck, which was somewhat tender.

In the cramped, enclosed space inside the top section of a Harvester, with the only illumination coming from the tiny lights on the panels, Emla shrugged. Her face betrayed her nervousness – it was probably written large across mine as well.

We had selected a Harvester from the row whose box of lights we knew represented Hallandra – not the one with the bent panel that had brought me here, but the one furthest away from where the rats were. Leaving the rats immobilised, we had trotted around the walkway to the other side of the depot and used the recovered rope to climb down onto it. Having located the button near the top opening panel, I depressed it. The resultant click had been followed by the panel raising an inch or two, enabling us to swing it up on a hinge and then descend within.

The first thing Emla had done once we were both inside and the lid above us closed, was to extract a blank plastic sheet from her backpack and make a copy of the light pattern on the main panel. This, it had been concluded, must be the code for this world of jungle and cities. It meant we could return here if we had a chance to punch it in. She marked the sheet with a big 'H'.

"H? Home or Harvesters?" I asked.

"Definitely not home," she spat, as if I dared to suggest that the jungle world could ever be considered home.

"Can we change the mode now?" I asked.

The six mode lights were all dark. Emla pressed one but it remained as it had been. None of the light buttons could be depressed or made to click.

"How can I know?" she answered, finally, after having stabbed at several either singly or in combination.

I knew what she meant. The information from the manuals, when Elcanah had managed to decode it, seemed inconsistent and incomplete, especially now that we were here inside one of the dreaded machines. We still had no real idea how to initiate the transfer manually. From Emla's previous experiences watching the Harvesters being sent out, the rats had initiated the sending by pressing something on the light boxes at the end of each row. This was not something we could do ourselves unless one of us remained behind.

"We should have convinced at least one of the others to come," I said.

Emla shook her head. "They're too scared or lazy or old – maybe all three. Anyway, too many of them are missing hands or feet – they would be useless here."

"Elcanah?"

"No, we daren't risk her – we need her to keep working on those manuals."

Although it was still only a guess, we had decided the extra row of lights – the fine control – might apply only to where we were going, despite the main lights referring to the jungle world. Of the seven lights, only the first, second and fourth were lit. Emla toggled the third from unlit to lit.

"Maybe it's enough to move it somewhere away from the citadel," she said.

"Are you sure?"

"No, of course not."

Then Emla's fingers hovered over what Elcanah had thought might be the manual controls – the two larger lights below the six mode lights.

"Left, right or both?" she said.

I shook my head.

"Here goes," she whispered, pressing the left one.

Nothing happened, no click or noise of any kind. She pressed the right one with the same result.

"Both together?" I said.

"It's the only remaining option."

There was a double click as both buttons illuminated simultaneously. We both jumped as the noise of an engine starting up shook the entire Harvester. Emla fell back against me. The noise was familiar, but one which also filled me with fear. Then came the sensation I had felt only once before – of being forced through a grey fog. It lasted several seconds. This time, with the top panel of the Harvester fully closed, I didn't experience the sensation of not being able to breathe.