Lost Harvest: Book One of the Harvest Trilogy by Joe Pace

that made Cygni politics unstable and volatile. I can trust him, Pearce thought.
    It was then that Pearce heard the first screams.
    He was on his feet, heading for the main room of the house and the front door there, when Arkadas grabbed his arm, shaking his head again, furiously. No, he mouthed, and moved instead to the rear of the room, where there was a door leading into the back alley. Pearce followed, hearing again the sound of screaming, only it was different now, no longer human. It was the sound of the karabin , the strange Cygni weapon Pearce had seen at a staged demonstration weeks before. There was no crack like the ancient guns of Earth, nor the smooth whine of the pulse rifles the Royal Machrines used. Instead, there was a hiss followed by a terrifying sound, like the cry of a bird of prey, as the firearm expelled not a projectile but a column of rushing air that struck with murderous force. The technology involved was simple, barely industrial, and deadly.
    Pearce hurried along the alley with Arkadas until they reached a small plaza that looked out and up at the Drake ’s base. Point Friendship, they had called it, and the name had been fitting for the month that the explorers from the United Kingdom of Earth had been ashore. Captain Baker had conducted yet another successful first contact, establishing the beginnings of a relationship, with a world rich in natural resources that had long since become scare on Earth. Wood, water, foodstuffs, minerals; Cygnus appeared abundant in all of these, and a prime prospect for a long-lasting and mutually beneficial trade partnership.
    Now, less than a kilometer from the Drake ’s shuttle, Pearce saw open conflict. The telltale white arcs of pulse fire lit the gray stillness of the predawn sky, and from the sounds that carried with eerie clarity, found their marks. Much nearer, the sound of booted feet striking the flat-stoned streets approached, and Pearce flattened himself against the wall of Arakadas’ house, pinning the Cygni scholar behind him in the shadows. A column of blue-jacketed Cygni soldiers ran past the mouth of the alley, curved wood-and-iron karabins on their shoulders. Pearce held his breath, counting at least twenty of them before they were gone, headed toward whatever was happening at Point Friendship. Seizing his friend by the collar, Pearce leaned in so that his mouth was scant centimeters from his ear, and hissed his question.
    “What the hell is happening?”
    “The clergy,” whispered Arkadas, and Pearce could see the tears that were spilling from his eyes, eyes that were the crystalline blue of so many Cygni males. “Since you arrived, their leadership has been claiming that you are only here to plunder us, that you are conquerors from the stars, and we must repel you now if we are to survive.” Pearce did not even bother to argue the inherent foolishness of the assertion. He and Arkadas had spoken too many times of the clergy’s distrust of Captain Baker. Only the military’s coalition with the intellectuals had secured the government’s welcoming attitude toward the Earthers.
    “Have they seized control?” Pearce asked, urgently, and Arkadas nodded.
    “The military have gone over to their side.”
    Then it was no good, Pearce knew. The light garrison at the encampment would have been taken totally by surprise, and despite their technological advantage, they would be hard pressed. That, and Pearce knew he was not the only officer of the Drake ashore in town, staying with a generous host.
    Captain Baker , he thought.
    Pearce released Arkadas and reached for his sidearm, turning it on. He felt the warm cycling of the laser spool inside the grip, and tried to think back to his training. He had never fired it at a live soul before.
    “Will you be all right?” he asked.
    “Maybe.” Arkadas shrugged. “When the coalitions shift, anything is possible. Who knows what the day may bring. But I am in no immediate danger.”
    “That makes