Harvest Chapter 3
“You caught another rut!” Trysk’s father called out as he walked along beside the juddering combine.
“On it!” Trysk yelled and she turned the wheel. The combine bounced high once, then settled back into a smooth forward motion across the field. The full-grown Klep pulling the grain cart alongside the combine shifted slightly to the right as it plodded along through the stubble.
“You still think she’s a better driver?” asked Brem as he walked along beside his father, rifle in hand. Normally, it was the father who carried the rifle to ward off the opportunistic flocks of birds that circled far above. The birds were watching for the small spills of filkseed that inevitably dribbled out of parts of the combine, hoping to dive down and scoop up a beak-full before one of the children had a chance to scoop up the seeds and sift out the dirt and grit, before adding it to one of the buckets they carried along for just that purpose.
“Just keep an eye out, son.” Pa slapped him on the shoulder. “If a bird pecks out one of your sibs’ eyes while trying for filkseed, Ma will never let you hear the end of it. And you’ll be wearing my boot.”
“Right up my—” Brem caught himself short. Ma and Pa didn’t like cursing.
“Exactly.” His father raised an eyebrow. “So keep an eye out.”
“Yes, Pa.” Brem nodded, then watched his steps over the furrows, even as he scanned the sky. It wasn’t going to be easy. He checked that the safety was on, just in case he tripped.
After an hour, Pa whistled shrilly, two fingers in his mouth. Everybody stopped. Trysk brought the combine to a halt and powered it down. She removed a basket from the back of the combine, and handed out snacks and water to her sibs, then took a swig, before selecting a thin stick of bread out of the basket for herself. Four of her sibs took the opportunity to scarf down their food, then quickly run back along the path the combine had made, looking for missed seeds. The Klep munched slowly on handfuls of freshly threshed filkseed stalks held out by the ten- and eleven-year-olds in their closed fists.
Pa finished off a second bread stick and took two swigs of water. “Remember to take breaks, like this. The weather’s supposed to be fine all week, so steady as we go. No need to rush, that’s how accidents happen. But if the rains come, we rush, but try to be careful, right?”
“Yes, Pa,” a chorus of voices replied.
Satisfied at the response, their father nodded. “Good. Now, Trysk and Brem, I need to talk to you about Harvest.”
Brem and Trysk immediately stiffened. The thirteen-plus sibs looked on with interest, while the rest of them took the opportunity to play, or look for more seeds, always in pairs, watching out for birds.
“What is there to say?” Brem’s face clouded. “First, the crops. Then Harvest, every year.”
Pa shook his head. “Not every year. Nine for ten. This is a ten-year. At least for this farm.”
Thirteen-year-old Jonas turned to look at his father. “What happens in a ten-year, Pa? I don’t remember. I was three.”
Pa took in a breath. “Harvest skips a farm. Fallow year.”
Jonas’s eyebrows rose. “Really?”
“Yep.” Pa nodded.
Jonas smiled at Brem and Trysk. “You’re not joshing us?”
Pa shook his head. “Nope. If they took everything, ten for ten, there’d be nothing left. Simple maths. You need the fallow years.”
“What about the Baxters?” asked Brem, a little too quickly.
Pa looked Brem up and down. “The Baxters should be on a ten-year this season as well.”
Brem couldn’t stop grinning. “That’s great!”
Pa winked. “I thought you might like that bit of news. Nice girl, that Mabel, and I think she fancies you, too. Even so, it means leaving the farm. You’ll be eighteen in a few weeks. Time to start your own family.”
“Of course, Pa.” Brem’s face sobered. “It will be hard to leave, though.”
Pa slapped him on the shoulder. “It will be hard to see you go. And not just because having two eldest children lessens the load, even though it does. And nobody’s as good as Trysk at bringing in the reluctant ones before we bring the crops in, even from a young age. No, Ma and I will miss you for a lot more than just that. But it warms my heart that you’ll get to stay here on Ockham. We’ll get to see you afterwards. Not like the others Harvested from our blessed planet.”
Trysk eyed the skies nervously, looking far above the birds. “They’ll be here soon, right?”
Pa nodded. “Like clockwork. With any luck, and with this good weather, Celebration should be a little earlier this year, not like the last. The wretched souls being harvested this year might get a whole week between Celebration and being taken away. Last year, the weather was so bad they were tapping shoulders before the opening song. But all of that is beyond our control. What the
Emperor wants, he wants, and what he needs, he needs. Grains and livestock from our blessed planet. Kleps, sheep, cattle, and humans.”
Trysk clutched at her father’s arm. “What happens to them when they leave?”
Pa shook his head. “I don’t rightly know, assuming you mean the humans. The rest are for food. But as no-one has ever come back after being Harvested, well … we just don’t know.”
Brem swallowed. “Then it’s good that this is a ten-year, then.”
“Yep.” Tears welled up in Pa’s eyes. “Not nearly enough of those. And they’re not that good at counting, either. Folk need to remind them a lot more, these days.”
The hairs rose on Trysk’s neck. “Meaning what?”
Pa stared off into the distance. “Meaning nothing. If they forget, we’ll just remind them. They need the ten-years to stay here, just as much as we do. There has to be someone left to start families, to have the required kids, every year. If they forget the ten-years, they won’t have food, or whatever the hell they do with the humans they steal from us, each and every year. Our children.”
Trysk said softly. “You swore, Pa. You said the ‘H’ word.”
Pa sniffed and carefully wiped his cheeks. You didn’t want to rub filkseed dust into your eyes; it was well-known to be a minor irritant. “Well, so I did. I let myself be angry for a moment. Don’t mind me. Things are just the way they are, and that’s that. But they need to remember it’s a ten-year for this farm, and the Baxters. They’ve got to.”
Brem stood up and held out a hand to Pa. “I’m sure they will. Mabel will be mighty disappointed if they don’t. I’ll remind them myself, if I need to.”
Pa let Brem pull him up to his feet. “And so you should. But not holding that rifle. You’d be dead in the ground, spirit in the sky, instead of your breathing body being somewhere it should be, all together in one. So be careful. The Counters don’t have much of a sense of humour.”
“Okay, Pa,” said Brem. “Now let’s hurry up and finish bringing in the crops for the day, so I can go tell Mabel the good news!”
—
Mabel closed the door softly behind her. “Pa said we can be out on the porch and swing, if we want.”
Brem sighed. “Your mother can see us from there.”
“And so she can. She can see our heads, anyway. Our hands…” Mabel’s eyes twinkled.
Brem nodded stiffly, then escorted her to the swing and helped her onto it. He eased himself onto the swing beside her, their hands touching. He used his toes to swing them slowly back and forth, facing out into the moon-lit yard.
His fingers threaded into hers. “You’re a little behind.” Brem nodded at the wide swath cut into the fields, the combine sitting idle near the farmhouse.
Mabel leaned her head on his shoulder, lifting their joined hands onto his leg. She stroked his leg with her thumb. “Not everyone has two eldest children, like your family. It makes the work easier.”
“Sorry.” Brem moved their hands onto her thigh. “Maybe I could come over and help a little.”
“Only if you get too far ahead.” Mabel gripped his fingers tightly as his thumb stroked her inner thigh. “And you’re getting too far ahead right now. They might catch us.”
Brem moved their hands back onto his leg. “I could ask my Pa in a few days. You know how it works. We can’t start Celebration until the last of the crops are in, so neighbours help neighbours. That’s what we do.”
“True.” Mabel pulled their hands back onto her thigh. “I don’t know if I can wait a couple of days, though.”
“Pa said we’re on a ten-year. And that your family should be on a ten-year, too.”
Mabel’s breath caught in her throat. “Are you sure?”
Brem inched their hands lower over her inner thigh. “Yes. And that means more than just a few days together before Harvest. If you’ll have me, that is.”
Mabel turned and kissed him, right on the cheek. “I never thought … my parents didn’t … oh my, but that’s wonderful, Brem! Of course, it’s yes.”
“Ahem,” said a stern voice behind them. “Distance.”
Brem and Mabel slid apart a respectful distance. There were three loud footsteps, then the door closed behind them.
Mabel remained where she was, but stretched out her hand to take Brem’s in hers. “We can wait. We’ll have an entire lifetime together, right here on Ockham. I’ll let Pa know you’re willing to come over in a few days, when you’re allowed to come help.”
“That would be great if you did.” Brem squeezed her hand. “But let me check with Pa for when. Soon, anyway.”
“A ten-year!” Mabel sighed. “What wonderful, wonderful news!”