Free The Harvest by K. Makansi

broadcast? A well-placed Outsider? A Sector citizen leaning toward the Resistance? Or was it something simpler: a gun to the head of one of the broadcast engineers?
    Not for the first time since I decided to stay in Okaria, I miss my friends, desperately. I miss my team. I wish I had a way to contact them, to congratulate them, to ask them how the hell they did that. And the strangest feeling wells up inside of me: a strong desire to hug Linnea.
    Then there’s a knock at the door.
    In the excitement of Linnea’s broadcast, I had forgotten entirely about my promised visitor. I run to the door and glance through the peephole. But the person—whoever he is—is too tall to identify, even through the convex lens. All I can see is that his hands, clasped calmly in front of him, are as black as Jahnu’s and as large and strong as Soren’s.
    I can’t help but be afraid. An ally we call Onion. He won’t hurt you . I breathe the words into my bones, into my brain, trying to will the fear out of my system. How can you be so sure, Meera?
    I’ve got a knife in my pocket and my boot, and a smoke grenade in my sleeve if I need to make a quick exit. Satisfied, at least for the moment, with my defenses, I crack the door. I peer out, and stare up at the person waiting patiently, his face half-hidden by a light summer jacket. He’s wearing military-issue boots. I recognize them—they’re the same style Vale was wearing when we met for the first time in three years on the raid at Seed Bank Carbon. I’ve seen this man’s face on the Sector feeds a thousand times. General Bunqu, commander of the Sector Defense Forces Guardians. The Guardians is the division that guards high government officials and protects government buildings in the capital as well as towns throughout the Sector.
    I met General Bunqu one time, when my father was named the Poet Laureate of the Sector. The chancellor—then Cara Skaarsgard, Soren’s mother—threw a gala in his honor, and Bunqu attended. I liked him. He had a warm smile and an open face, and his voice, as deep as Lake Okaria, was comforting.
    So, Kofir Bunqu is Meera’s Onion. He has an Outsider name. Is he one of us? I don’t know much about him, but I can’t trust him. Not yet. No matter what Meera says.
    I open the door.
    â€œThank you.” He dips his head ever so slightly as I close it behind him, careful never to show him my back, my right hand resting on the handle of my knife. He notices this. “You are right to be suspicious,” he says. “But you have nothing to fear. ” He looks around. “Are we alone?”
    I nod.
    â€œGood. Shall we sit?”
    â€œI want you to hand over any weapons you’re carrying.” The words tumble out of my mouth in a rush. I’m ready to throw if he hesitates for a second.
    But he doesn’t. Silently he opens his trench coat. He pulls out two handheld Bolts and a knife, and passes them to me. I set them on the kitchen counter, out of reach. Standing between him and his weapons, I gesture to an empty chair. He sits. I pull over one of the kitchen stools for myself. If he wants his weapons back, he’ll have to get past me first.
    â€œWhy are you here?” I ask.
    â€œI can help you.”
    â€œYou’re a general of the Sector Defense Forces. Throwing your lot in with a traitor doesn’t seem like a wise move.”
    â€œI have considered myself a traitor to the Okarian Sector for many months. Since Chan-Yu helped you and Soren Skaarsgard escape, in fact.”
    â€œWhat did you have to do with that?” I ask, taken aback. Was Bunqu involved in setting me and Soren free?
    â€œNothing.” He pauses, deliberating. “Chan-Yu became a—we shall call him a friend—while he was in training with the Security Directorate. I admired him, and he me. It was difficult for him to reveal himself to me, but over the years, we became more