Old Friends

It would soon be time for the harvest.

The tractor’s intelligence unit understood that was why the old man was upset. It listened patiently as he grumbled.

“Hell of a time for a new war to break out,” the man muttered as the tractor pulled up to the pad where the shuttle stood waiting. The uniformed men at the entrance ramp snapped to attention as they saw him approach. “Hell of a time.”

“I need to go for a while old friend,” the man whispered as he patted the control console. “You’ll have to see to the fields until I get back.”

He eased himself out of the control cabin, careful not to catch his dress whites, and boarded the ship. The tractor trundled away as the shuttle slipped silently into the morning sky.

The tractor never saw the missile as it streaked towards the craft, never saw the fireball plunging to the ground. Even if it had, it wouldn’t have connected those things to its master. It was too focused on getting to work. There was much to be done.

It would soon be time for the harvest.

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