Page 226 of Star Bringer
“What the—” Max breaks off as it scans him, too.
Nothing happens on the screen, except the laser moves on to Ian. Then Merrick. Then Milla. And then, finally, me.
When it scans me, instead of moving on, it emits one long, high-pitched beep. And then hundreds and hundreds of file names begin rolling across the screen from top to bottom in small blue print—conveniently legible, considering this was made by the Ancients, so maybe theStarlightis translating it for me.
“What is all this?” Rain asks.
Max shakes his head. “I don’t know. It’s scrolling so fast that I can’t read it.”
“What about you, Kali?” Merrick queries. “Why don’t you try touching the screen?”
Everything in me recoils, except…not really. My brain definitely doesn’t want to touch the screen, but every other part of my body yearns for it.
“Go ahead,” Ian says. “We’re all right here.”
Something tells me we’re never going to get anywhere if I don’t touch it, so I finally take a deep breath and reach toward the screen.
The second I touch one of the files, it opens up, information spreading across the wall.
“Moderate success,” I read from the central section, as most of the others contain nothing but numerical data. “Two dead planets, Tybris and Nabroch. Life flourishing on other planets.”
“Moderate success?” Merrick asks, sounding as bewildered as I feel. “Moderate success at what?”
I swipe the file away and choose another one from the list that continues to scroll by.
This one has a lot of numerical data as well, but it has the same central summary.Senestris batch specimens 77% successful to date, though data suggest success rate will drop to 55% by end of millennium. Askkandia is the most fruitful planet, followed by Kridacus and Glacea, though data suggest Glacea may drop off soon. Recommendation: Pre-extinction harvest.
“Harvest?” Rain whispers. “What do they mean by harvest?”
“Nothing good,” I answer grimly. But when I go to swipe on a third file, the display lets out a series of high-pitched beeps. And then numbers begin running across the screen.
The same numbers we saw on the heptosphere a few minutes ago. Except the sequence now reads:30 – 07 – 03 – 57
We’ve lost six minutes from whatever it’s counting down to.
We wait another couple of minutes, just to see what happens. But no matter where I touch the display, the only thing that changes is the numbers on the countdown sequence as they continue to scroll across the screen.
“I don’t like this,” Max says.
“Yeah, no shit,” Ian replies. “But there’s nothing we can do about it from in here.”
He walks out of the room, and I follow him, because he’s right. Although I can’t help but think there’s nothing we can do about it anywhere else, either.
And that’s before we get back to the bridge and confirm the countdown sequence is still displayed on the heptosphere. Except around the center where it started, there is something new. A sentence that reads:
Humanoid Specimens of the Senestris System. We have found you and are on our way. Our harvest is overdue.
“There’s that word again,” Merrick comments. “Harvest.”
The heptosphere emits more flashing lights, and then the phrase running across the center changes again.
Population harvest to commence in 30 – 06 – 59 – 12
“Population harvest?” Merrick repeats. “What exactly does that mean?”
“I think you know exactly what that means,” Ian answers.
Rain shudders. “Us? Something wants to harvest us?”
