"Okay, bring 'em in."
The woman spurred her horse forward to trot ahead of the advancing line of day laborers. It was just before sunrise, and she'd hired three hundred people for the final day of harvest. If things went well today, she could go home and relax for a few months until the next crop was ready. She lifted her wide-brimmed hat and repositioned it, then turned to watch the line of men and women walking behind her. She brought her horse around to face the group of workers and held up her hand for them to stop.
"Okay, here's the drill." She raised her voice so they all could hear her. "We're starting early, so there's no rush. I'm more concerned with getting undamaged fruit than I am with speed. I want *no bruising*. Is that understood?"
The workers nodded.
"There are water outlets every twenty meters, so if you get thirsty, stop and take a drink. Remember, no rushing. If you hurry, you risk damaging the fruit. Just take your time and be careful." She looked at her watch. "You'll break for breakfast in two hours, and break for lunch four hours after that." She pointed to the opposite end of the field. "Portable bathrooms are over there, use 'em when you need to. And people?" She held up her hand for attention. "I cannot stress enough the importance of not rushing this job. You'll get whatever you need to stay comfortable. Just take your time, and let one of the foremen know if you have a problem or your basket is full. Any questions?"
She scanned the workers once more; no one answered.
"Okay, then let's get started."
Spurring her horse, she trotted off to the side to watch as her seven foremen led the large group of laborers into the field of short, thick, fruit-laden bushes. There were those who said she was too easy on her people, what with the frequent water breaks, portable bathrooms and plentiful food, but she knew that happy workers meant unbruised fruit, which meant increased income and more time off for her.
Many of these people had worked here before, and made a point of showing up for every tanda harvest. They were always eager to work for someone who treated them well. A few even lived on her land and tended the fields nearest to their homes in exchange for housing and protection, both good things to have on a colony world like New Mecca. Especially out here, away from the cities and settlements.
The fruit was easy to grow and highly resistant to insects, weather and disease - the delicate part was the harvesting of it, something she'd learned the hard way during her first season here, after claiming the land four years ago. One partially rotted and unsellable crop had taught her what she needed to know; her second season profits had been so much better, she'd hired extra workers to plant more fields, bought more portable stasis units, and the rest had fallen into place almost effortlessly. Now she was the largest and most sought- after producer of tanda in this sector. Her logo, a planet circled by two rings and overlaid with her initials, was a familiar sight on many a produce shelf.
She surveyed the field again, watching individual workers as they carefully twisted the purple tanda fruit from the bushes and laid it tenderly into the baskets. Her foremen rode up and down the rows, now and then leaning down from their horses to speak to the workers. She'd hand-picked these four women and three men for their even temperaments - she'd never had to worry about any of them mistreating her crews, and all were well-rewarded for their patience.
Something in her peripheral vision caught her attention; a lone worker who'd stopped picking and was staring at her. She squinted at him, trying to figure out what made him seem so familiar. Maybe he'd been on one of her previous crews.
But I'd remember a guy like that, she mused. He's big. Really big.
The man wore a large red bandana knotted over his head and tied at the nape of his neck. Big sunglasses covered his eyes, so she couldn't really see his face. His work shirt was sleeveless, revealing huge, powerful arms. With a start, she realized she'd been running her eyes over his body, and looked away quickly. Wouldn't do to be caught ogling a field worker.
Stop it, she told herself. She squared her shoulders and walked her horse to another section of the field. You're the boss - now act like one, dammit.
"Hannah." She motioned one of the foremen over. "You take charge here. I'm going back to the house," she said when Hannah was close enough to hear her. "Anything happens, you call me." She tapped her ever-present earcomm.
"Right, boss." Hannah nodded and turned her horse back to the fields, her dark braids swinging over her shoulders as she rode.
The woman spurred her horse to a slow gallop and headed for the large, sprawling two-story house situated in the middle of her claim, about a kilometer from where she now rode. She'd had it built from scratch using the reddish native stone after her abundant second-season harvest - no prefabs for her. She deserved a real home, especially after all her hard work, all the shit she'd been through. After all she'd lost...
She shuddered a little, remembering, and the pain stabbed through her, for a split second as fresh as the day they'd told her. The day her world had collapsed, and she'd sworn that nothing short of planetary catastrophe would ever get her off solid ground and onto another transport as long as she drew breath.
A firm kick made her horse pick up the pace. There was no time, no room in her life now for remembering. She had work to do, a business to run, and people to take care of. The house loomed closer in the growing sunlight, and she could see the tiny figure of her head groomsman emerging from the stables a few hundred meters from the house.
She smiled and shook her head - Morrison was hard to miss, even at this distance. The Englishman's manners were impeccable, but his insistence on wearing his hair in a spiky red mohawk had barred him from employment in every other good stable he'd tried. However, once she'd seen how her horses responded to him, he was a shoo-in.
Their loss, my gain, she thought, watching as he moved towards the house to greet her and take her horse.
"Look like a bigger one this time," he said, nodding towards the busy fields when she reached him and dismounted. "Got your hands on some good plants, eh?"
"Yep - the best." She handed him the reins and headed for the front door. "Don't rub him down just yet," she called over her shoulder. "I might go back out later."
"Aye-aye, general." Morrison snapped her a funny little salute and began leading the horse away.
Laughing, she opened the door and took off her hat, hanging it in the entryway as she sniffed the air. Her cooks, Nina and Perry, were already busy preparing breakfast for the crew. Her boots sounded noisily on the stone floor as she made her way to the kitchen, her stomach rumbling. The smell of fresh-baked bread and spices filled the house.
"Hey, boss." Nina looked up from a large pot she was stirring. "Guess you wanna get fed, huh?"
"No way," Perry snickered from his seat at the large wooden table, where he was slicing bread. "Look at her - she's way too fat." He crossed his eyes and stuck out his tongue, miming a grisly death, when his employer pointed an invisible pistol at him and pulled the trigger.
"You're fired," she grinned, lowering her slim figure into the chair across from him.
"Good morning," a deep voice boomed from the hallway. The speaker came into view a moment later, adjusting his turban. "I see the harvest has begun." He breathed in deeply, savoring the aroma that filled the kitchen. "And I see that Nina has once again begun her temptation of the faithful."
Nina laughed and continued her stirring. "Hey, no one told you to come here during Ramadan."
"That is true," the Muslim agreed, sitting down beside his host. "But at sundown, I shall see for myself what I have missed during my fast."
Perry passed a plate full of warm bread slices to his employer. "There ya go, fatty. Eat up."
She made a face at him and took a bite of the bread, nodding her thanks as Nina set a cold pitcher of pandra tea on the table. Pouring herself a glass, she munched her bread and let her mind wander back to the fields. The bushes she'd planted had yielded beyond her wildest expectations, and this year's profit would be nothing short of phenomenal, even after paying all her workers. Maybe next harvest season, she could hand things over to Hannah, maybe take a vacation in the mountains. She'd always wanted to go. So had he.
Stop it, she told herself, closing her eyes. Stop torturing yourself. He's gone, and there's not a damn thing you can do about it.
"Are you alright, child?" The Muslim placed a concerned hand on her shoulder.
"Yeah, fine." She pushed her chair back and stood up. "I'll be back in a minute."
The others watched as she left the kitchen. When the sound of her boots had faded, they faced each other again with sober expressions.
"What is it, Abu?" Nina sat down in her employer's vacated chair with an exasperated sigh. "She gets like this every year, but she never talks about it." Nina threw up her hands. "I've tried asking her, but she won't tell me anything."
The Muslim took a sip of his pandra tea and said nothing.
"C'mon, Abu," Perry pressed. "You've known her longer than anyone. Does this time of year remind her of something bad, or what?"
Abu sighed and sat silently for a moment before answering. "Much has happened to her." His tone was that of a man trying to choose his words carefully, to not give away too much. "Much that was painful, and yes, this time of the year reminds her of it."
Nina nodded and studied the Muslim's face. "Were you there, Abu? Did you see what happened?"
"I saw...many things," he answered slowly. "Not all, but enough. And what I did not see, she has told me." He looked up at the concerned faces before him. "But I cannot break her confidence. The life she knew before this is over. This is her life now. And you must never question her about her past again. It will only bring her pain."
Nina nodded again and got up to check her bubbling pot as Perry cleared his throat and spoke. "But isn't there anything we can do to make it better? Can't we help?"
Abu smiled sadly at the young man. "We can be here when we are needed. That is all." He looked down at the table, his eyes misting a bit. "The only one who could truly ease her pain is...no longer with us." He raised a warning finger when Perry opened his mouth to speak again. "Ask me nothing more - I have said too much already."
Alone in her second-floor bedroom, the woman sat down heavily at her desk and looked out the window. From here she could see the distant figures of the workers as they bent to harvest the fruit, and the foremen as they circulated among the plants on their horses. By sunset it should all be done, the portable stasis units bearing her logo packed with fruit and on their way to the local markets and transport companies. The workers would celebrate in the huge room downstairs she kept for just such occasions, drinking and dancing until the wee hours, then fading away to their homes or their next jobs on the morning transports.
She liked listening to them - it made her happy, if only for a short while. Sometimes she'd join them for a few drinks, maybe dance with Perry to the funky East Indian rock songs he liked so much. She wanted happy people around her, since she couldn't be one herself.
Especially not this time of year, when images of a faraway sunset plagued her dreams, and the sounds woke her in the night. They were only in her head, of course, but that made them no less real. Abu came in from Mecca City and spent a few weeks every year about this time. She'd never asked him to, but then she really didn't have to. He just knew.
Sometimes the weeks would stretch into months, and that was okay with her. They spent many a night sitting wordlessly together on the porch, gazing out over her dark fields after the dreams had torn her screaming out of a sound sleep. He brought her cold tea and held her hand when she cried. Sometimes he cried too, the tears running silently down his dark face, as he relived his own losses.
The dreams this time had been less of that desert place and more of another - a place of cold metal and reinforced windows almost too small to look through. The place where she'd stood in silent shock as they gave her the news, their voices careless and casual over the tinny speaker, merely passing along facts as they waited for her to leave so they could get back to their daily routine.
When she'd finally found her voice, her screams had echoed off the metal walls, bouncing back to slap her in the face with their force. It had taken three large men to subdue her and carry her to the front of the building, where they left her crying on the sidewalk. She'd pounded on the door, but it was securely locked, and they'd refused to buzz her back in. They were through with her, just as they were through with him.
Over. Done. Case closed. No further inquiries allowed.
Over and over, she awoke to the sound of slamming metal and her own screams. She raised her fists in her sleep to beat on the unresponsive door, calling out his name, telling them they had to be mistaken.
The woman rubbed her eyes and looked out the window again. For some reason, she couldn't forget about that big field worker, the one who'd stared at her. What was it about him that drew her attention? She went back to the moment she'd first noticed him, and realized what it was - the arms. The man's arms looked just like...
No! She smacked herself hard on the forehead with the heel of her hand. Don't even *think* his name, you know what that'll do to you.
Something nagged at the back of her mind; something she was supposed to do, something about the fields, or the fruit, or the workers...
Ah, now I remember.
"Call Hannah," she told her earcomm, and waited until the foreman's voice answered.
"Yeah, boss?"
"Hannah, I'm gonna need a basket of fruit up here at the house. Nina's got some kind of dessert planned for tonight."
"Mmmmm..." Hannah's voice murmured. "Can't wait to sink my teeth into *that*."
"No kidding." Her employer gave a little laugh. "Listen, can you send one of the workers up here with a basketful? Make sure it's someone who won't trip over their own feet and screw up the fruit, okay?"
"You got it, boss." Hannah's voice paused. "Anything else?"
The woman thought for a moment. "No, that's it for now, thanks."
"'K, boss."
"End call." The woman listened to the earcomm's familiar double sign-off tone as she scanned the horizon.
Looks like rain. Not close enough to be a threat, though. Good.
She got up and headed back downstairs, her emotions somewhat under control now. Conducting business always helped when it came to that. Maybe she'd busy herself with financial reports or something while she ate, keep her mind where it belonged.
Abu met her in the hallway as she walked back to the kitchen. "Are you feeling better?" he whispered, touching her arm.
"Yeah." She nodded and shot a look down the hall towards the kitchen. "Just need to keep my mind busy, that's all." She gave him a weak, unconvincing smile. "I'll be fine, don't worry." Patting Abu's shoulder, she left him and walked past the kitchen to her office, where she snagged her portable computer off the desk. All her business records were in it; she'd look things over, check for market updates while she finished her breakfast. That'd keep her head clear of all the crap.
The kitchen was empty when she got there. Nina and Perry had taken all the breakfast food to the big room where the workers were fed, the same room where they'd celebrate tonight after the harvest. She could hear them as they moved tables and benches and set out containers of clean flatware. On the kitchen table was her plate of bread and a bowl of the cooked grain Nina had been making. Leaning closer, she saw that someone had drawn a smiley face on one of her bread slices with honey.
Perry, that goof, she thought with a smile. Oughtta be a circus clown, that one.
She sat down and grabbed a spoon for her grain with one hand as she fired up her computer with the other. Before long, she was absorbed in last month's profit and loss reports, barely noticing when the front door opened and a strange male voice spoke to the two cooks as they prepared the dining room, asking the way to the kitchen. She paid no attention to the heavy bootsteps approaching in the hallway, or the man who stopped in the kitchen doorway with a basket full of tanda fruit and waited for her to notice him.
The sound of polite throat-clearing made her jump, and her eyes flicked up just far enough to register a pair of male hands holding a basket.
Wow, that was fast, she thought. And the fruit looks intact. Good deal.
"Yeah..." she said absently, her eyes going back to her computer screen. "Over there." She waved her spoon in the direction of the pantry, and the man walked over and set the basket gently on the floor. A few moments passed before she realized that she hadn't yet heard him leave. She shot a look towards the pantry and noticed him still standing there, as if waiting for further instructions.
"Thanks, that's all," she looked back down at her computer. "You can go now."
The man didn't move.
Maybe he's shy. Maybe he doesn't speak English.
She set her computer down and raised her head to look at the man's face.
Holy shit. It's that big guy who was staring at me.
The man stood there, regarding her silently. His stillness was unnerving, almost predatory. And very, very familiar. She was unable to speak for a moment, stunned by the shock of finding herself this close to him.
"Somethin' I can do for you?" she said when her voice started working again.
The man said nothing, just tilted his head to the side a little and let a tiny, sad-looking smile play across his face. When he finally spoke, his deep, gravelly voice was quiet, but the sound of it hit her like a hammer.
"Yeah. How 'bout a kiss?"