Rogan hurried to the truck. It was a one-hour flight to the vast wheat field where Harvey 451 stood dreadfully idle. Rogan used the time to finish his response to the fertilizer interrogatory, lied on Wally’s quarterly fitness report, and checked his off-planet email. There were no replies to his ad.
The truck slowed and Rogan looked out the side window. The wheat covered more than a thousand square miles of carefully contoured land. Land that was supposed to produce part of the 600 million tons the company expected Rogan to deliver that year. The problem being that he was some 2 million tons short because of the unrealistically high quotas the suits had given him.
The unharvested wheat, all of which was common 7.3 or T.aestivum 7.3, was a wonderful golden brown color. Rogan never tired of watching the way that it danced in the wind.
Most of the harvesters were little more than reddish orange dots on the distant horizon. Each one had left a mile-wide swath of stubble in its wake, except for Harvey 451 that is, which stood like a rust colored island in a sea of amber.
As he landed Rogan cursed the idiots who had designed the machine, the fools who had purchased it, and scumbags who sent it to his world. As the drive units spooled down Rogan jumped to the ground and began to wade through the wheat. It swished against his legs and left a coating of dust.
Harvey 451 stood strong and silent, as much a result of mechanical evolution as the aniforms were of genetic breeding. As Rogan jumped onto the first rung of a ladder, and began to climb, he could feel the slight vibration caused by the harvester’s power plant.
A small eight legged robot beeped a greeting as the human arrived on deck one. One of four machines permanently assigned to Harvey 451, the droid was equipped for welding and waved a laser equipped arm towards the human. Rogan nodded politely. “I’m here to activate this monster. Where’s the switch?”
“You’re here to activate this monster,” the robot chirped agreeably. “The switch is located an inch and half to the right of the emergency shut-down control.”
Rogan gritted his teeth. “Lead me to the switch.”
“I will lead you to the switch,” the robot said. “Please follow.”
The robot walked on tip toe, its long spindly legs carrying it along at a pretty good clip, its head rotating in 360-degree circles as it scanned the environment. Rogan followed the machine over a grating covered walk-way, up a vertical ladder, over a bridge, through an access door, up a short flight of stairs, and into a cramped control room. It had been designed for emergency use so there were no creature comforts. Not even a seat.
Now that Rogan could see the layout it was a simple matter to locate the switch, remove the access panel beneath it, and pull a handful of brightly colored spaghetti out into the light. After tracing the wires and checking them against the three dimensional schematic that the robot projected into the air--Rogan hooked them together in a way that would bypass the harvey’s on-off switch. The next time the machine went offline the maintenance droids would be able to restart the harvester by themselves.
As Rogan stood he felt the deck lurch under his feet and realized how stupid he’d been. The gigantic machine was rolling forwards and the grav truck was sitting in the way. The emergency shut-off button was right there, waiting for his fist to slam down on it, but a system-by-system restart would take an hour. An hour that would put the harvest even further behind.
It took more than a minute for Rogan to retrace his steps, descend the ladder, and jump to the ground. His legs pumped like pistons and the race was on. The truck was just ahead. But the harvester was rumbling along right behind him its jaws gobbling wheat. All it would take was one misstep and it would be over.
Then Rogan was there. He ran the length of the truck and scrambled into the cockpit. He had left the vehicle on stand-by and the response was instantaneous. One moment the giant harvester was nipping at the truck’s rear end and the next moment Rogan was airborne and climbing like hell. He had leveled off when Wally spoke in his head. “That was impressive, but not especially bright.”
Rogan scowled. “Who the hell asked you?”
Silence prevailed until Rogan arrived over valley NH/Q23-7819.
A long slow river meandered down its middle. The water was higher than normal but part of a different drainage system and less active than tributary NH/Q17-3514 had been.
Orchards bordered both sides of the river. And, with their own needs in mind, machines had laid the trees out in orderly rows. Sunlight flashed off metal as an eight armed robo picker plucked apples from branches. Rogan lowered the grav truck onto a duracrete pad and checked with Wally. His anger had dissipated by then but he still sounded gruff. “So, give me the numbers.”
Wally was ready and rattled off a long series of statistics including the average number of apples per tree, projected shipping weight, long term mutation rates, vitamin and nutritional values, picking speed, and how those figures compared with previous crops.
Rogan left the truck and walked towards the nearest trees. Weed suppressing grass had been planted between the trunks and gave slightly under his boots. Insects that were designed to cross pollinate the surrounding plants and provide food for Type 1 fliers buzzed around his head. Rogan didn’t mind in the least. What had started as an expression of restrained hope turned to a grin and quickly grew into a smile. The apple harvest was better than predicted. Something was going right for a change!
Rogan approached a heavily laden branch, plucked a cube shaped apple from it, and examined the fruit for flaws. There were none. The shape was perfect for packing and transshipment.
While the pale green skin was resistant to the effects of mechanized picking it still yielded to his bite. The apple’s interior was firm, white, and wonderfully crisp. Juice flooded his mouth as he chewed. Rogan realized he was hungry. So he ate the rest of the apple too… Cinnamon flavored seeds and all.
Then with a lightheartedness he hadn’t felt in days, he made his way to the truck and took off. It was only later, while sitting in the big empty house, that Rogan poured himself a drink.
Other books by William C. Dietz
The McCade Series: Galactic Bounty (War World), Imperial Bounty, Alien Bounty, McCade’s Bounty, McCade for Hire (Includes Galactic Bounty and Imperial Bounty), McCade on the Run (Includes Alien Bounty and McCade’s Bounty)
The Drifter Series: Drifter, Drifter’s Run, Drifter’s War
The Corvan duology: Matrix Man, and Mars Prime
The Original Legion Series: Legion of the Damned, The Final Battle, By Blood Alone, By Force of Arms, For More Than Glory, For Those Who Fell, When All Seems Lost, and When Duty Calls and A Fighting Chance
The Prequel Legion Series Andromeda’s Fall, Andromeda’s Choice (December 2013), and Andromeda’s War (December 2014)
The Sauron Duology, Deathday and Earthrise
The Runner Duology, Runner, and Logos Run