The next couple of days proved challenging to keep away from my mate. Now that we had truly begun communicating and bonding, I wanted to learn more about her, her people, and of course explore our intimacy. But too much work remained to be done, and time wasn’t on my side.
In a few days, a quarter of the clan would leave with me on a great hunt. We had many arrows, traps, and darts to prepare. At the same time, we had nets to mend and fishing cages to prepare for the other quarter of our clan that would set sail for fish and shellfish. For the few of the Hunters and Fishers who also crafted for the market, that didn’t leave them much time to make a few additional goods before our departure. Based on the hunting plan I had laid out, our chances of returning early enough to craft some more before the public market were slim to none.
Still, I stole what time I could to spend it with my mate. Susan hadn’t minded me working in a corner of her shed while making darts and coating them in a soporific agent. Luped had been around, building beautiful and strong shelves for my mate that were now all filled with racks of dirt trays she called seedlings. Another set of shelves filled with a different type of dirt that she sprayed daily with water was supposed to eventually grow meat-like mushrooms.
That day, my sister installed strong hooks on beams lining the ceiling. To my shock, my mate mixed some weird thing that resembled dried mold to wet woodchips, then filled long plastic bags with them, tying both ends before asking me to hang them to the hook for her as they were heavy. They were actually quite light for me, but it pleased me to show my strength. The following day, she poked a bunch of holes in the bags. Nothing leaked. When I questioned her about it, she said loads of oyster mushrooms would come out of those holes. It sounded as crazy to me as her meat mushrooms. But what did I know about farming?
It shamed me to admit that Susan spending the majority of her time inside that shed, doing her seedlings and those mushroom bags was a relief. The people had begun to relax that her farming wasn’t being rubbed in our faces… yet. The play days and the evenings in the Great Hall, mingling with everyone was allowing them to get to know her better.
However, the inevitable happened.
On the sixth day, Susan spent quite a bit of time assembling a strange contraption… outside. As soon as she finished, she placed it near the start of the plot of land she’d requested to farm. Her moving onto assembling another machine, this one a bit bigger, only gave me a small reprieve. I replayed in my mind all the arguments she had convinced me with and that had mollified my clan into accepting what she would do. But my stomach increasingly knotted as time ticked by. Susan was my mate, our Clan Mistress. And in a few minutes, she would start digging through dirt, like an animal… like a slave.
Maybe Mother had been right in suggesting zero tolerance. Maybe it wasn’t too late to tell my mate I had changed my mind. Could she not keep her farming to what she was doing here, indoors? Luped would be happy to build her more sheds so that she could grow as many things as she wanted without rolling in dirt.
With these thoughts increasingly taking root, I was reflecting on ways of broaching the subject with Susan when Zoltar’s voice startled me. By the look on his face, I knew bad news had come. No words were needed for me to know I had to follow him. I gestured for him to wait a minute and warned my mate I would be leaving her side.
“Okay,” she said, frowning slightly while observing me.
I packed the darts I’d been working on and, with Zoltar’s help, carried them and my tools back towards the plaza. My heart sank at the sight of Surtas, the Inosh Mountains Clan Leader.
“Surtas,” I said in greeting, “you are here early.”
“The others will join us in two days for departure,” he said.
He gestured with his chin at the field behind the Great Hall. That only made me even more nervous. Surtas wanting us away from prying ears hinted at how somber the situation was. To make matters worse, the location he chose for us to have that discussion gave us a perfect line of sight on Susan preparing to work the fields.
“The Conglomerate made me another offer,” Surtas said, going straight to the point. His coppery scales looked ashen with stress, having lost their shine of old when his people thrived and prospered. “It is still meager, but higher than their previous one.”
“You cannot accept!” I exclaimed.
“I may have no choice!” he hissed, his tail stiffening, while a sliver of red tinged his scales. “The next hunt and public market sales must be successful, or I will have no choice but to sell at least part of our lands.”
“Surtas—”
“I will only offer part of the plains,” he interrupted, shifting uncomfortably on his feet. “The Inosh Mountains trail and the surrounding forest will remain ours for hunting.”
“They will never consent to that,” Zoltar said, with barely veiled anger. “They will demand all or nothing.”
“All is not on the table,” Surtas retorted. “It will be that portion of land and nothing else.”
“And what if they withdraw their offer unless you sell everything?” I asked in a soft voice.
Surtas stared at me for a moment, anger, betrayal, and despair all warring for dominance on his features. Instead of the angry outburst I had expected, his shoulders dropped, and the strong male, fearsome Hunter, and charismatic leader I’d known my whole life took on an utterly defeated expression.
“What would you have me do, Olix? My people will starve,” he said in a haunted voice. “All the herds have gone. There have been no sightings whatsoever, not even small game like hoppers. Nothing! Worse still, even Gatherers are coming home almost empty-handed. Something is happening that’s driving away the fauna and devouring the roots, leaves, and berries that used to supplement our meals.”
“It has to be the Conglomerate’s doing to force our hand,” Zoltar said through his teeth.
“I believe it, too,” I conceded, “but we have found no proof of foul play. Their people have not been seen anywhere near our forests in two years, and yet things have steadily worsened.”
“It must be their technology,” Zoltar argued.
“Of that, too, we have found no proof,” I said, discouraged. “You know how Luped is crazy for technology. She has used all the tracking and scanning programs we could afford and found nothing. If they are indeed doing something, it is beyond our comprehension. But if we sell, they win.”
“We never should have allowed off-worlders back onto our planet,” Surtas said bitterly. “Life was much simpler before them. Their technology is too strong, and we are too poor to upgrade what we have or to acquire what could make us competitive. If it comes to that, and I sell my lands, my people could merge with another clan. The new wealth from the sale could spare them from having to sell as well.”
That comment hurt my heart, but it was a partial solution.
“They say she grows food,” Surtas suddenly said.
Startled, I followed his gaze and saw him staring at my mate in the distance. The devices Susan had been assembling now seemed fully functional. My stomach dropped as she set the first one in an upright position, hovering a few centimeters aboveground. It vaguely reminded me of a giant funnel but with a bladed hook at the bottom.
“It is a disgrace that our Clan Mistress, our Spear’s mate, plays in the dirt,” Zoltar hissed.
“Careful,” I warned, taking a menacing step towards him. “Disrespect my mate, and you will face my wrath.”
He clenched his teeth but had the good sense of backing down. He turned his resentful gaze towards my female, then curiosity appeared to take over his displeasure. I looked back and found myself also staring in fascination. Still wearing her knee-length dress and simple closed shoes, Susan tapped a few instructions on the interface of the device. The hook underneath it straightened while retracting within itself. Seconds later, it stabbed into ground before curving again. The contraption began moving forward in a straight line, tilling the land. My mate didn’t follow it, turning instead towards the second device.
We watched for a short while longer. The tilling device stopped occasionally, some sort of mechanical arm extracting what resembled a sizable rock and placing it in the container on top of it, before resuming tilling. When it reached a certain distance, the claw retracted and the device moved a short distance to the side and stabbed the ground again, tilling a second row parallel to the first one.
“The Clan Mistress doesn’t seem to be doing much dirt digging,” Surtas said tauntingly to Zoltar. “Looks like a machine does the work.”
A very good point that made my heart soar. I had dreaded seeing my Susan toiling with a pickaxe and shovel in the field.
“We are Hunters,” Zoltar snapped back. “We do not work the soil.”
“If it could prevent your mate, offspring, and community from starving to death, would you dig dirt, or let them perish?” Surtas challenged him.
“There are always other ways,” Zoltar replied, stubbornly.
“I have yet to see those other ways you speak of,” Surtas said with disdain. “You are young and impetuous, Zoltar. When it comes to the survival of your people, pride is a fool’s luxury. Molzeg said Olix’s off-worlder mate would save our people. Maybe she’s showing us the way, but we are too stubborn to follow it. Until then, pray the Spirits that the great hunt is successful.”
With these words, Surtas turned around and headed back towards the plaza, leaving me shaken. Zoltar, ever the dark cloud, hovered around, his gaze weighing on me.
“Whatever you may think of my impulsiveness, heed me well, cousin,” Zoltar said. “You know how I feel about this farming business, but this isn’t about me. Our people will not work the land. You know it. You have heard them speak just like I have. Your heart is in the right place, but do not let your female take you down this dangerous path. If you do, the people will remove you as our leader, and it will be all your doing.”
He didn’t wait for my response, and also left. My chest ached, and the same feeling of helplessness washed over me. Whatever my personal feelings, Zoltar was right. Our people would choose to sell our lands before digging dirt.
But my mate wasn’t digging dirt: her machine was.
