Fields of Yakira
"I have roamed the decaying remnants of the city-world Trantor. I have sailed across the violet oceans of Rhyai on a vessel as old and opulent as the First Galactic Empire; and I have marvelled at the technological wonders of Terminus. Why is it then, that the sight of this field, golden with Yakira and Lyplant, I would instantly deem a superior experience?"
Paitur Inthus reclined himself against the wooden fence that both defined and divided his estate. The green sun gave an emerald sheen to his silver hair and rugged earthy clothing. His daughter Okita, with her slender figure and light olive skin, lay upon a red silk blanket spread out on the fine ruddy sands. She was in deep concentration, reading from an electronic pad.
"I would say it is because you have achieved this particular miracle with your own hard labour." Her voice was soft and melodious. Paitur rubbed the stubble on his face, pondering what his daughter had said. Okita raised her head to look at him and smiled a row of brilliantly white teeth.
"But it was not difficult, and I did little work manually. The field robots achieved most, with me merely their instructor," said Paitur. Okita reached into the wicker basket next to her, and retrieved a small blue fruit. She gently threw it to her father, who caught it in his right hand. He bit into the fruit and drank the viscous fluid within.
"Maybe it is more simple even than pride. You were born on Comporelleon, father, a world infamous for the harsh tundra that engulfs it. This farm is something that was impossible for you to experience for the entirety of your early life. And of all the other worlds I have heard you speak of in the tales you tell of your travels, none are used for agriculture. Trantor is a dead metallic monstrosity, Rhyai covered in ocean, and Terminus a thousands of oases of suburban civilisation in an untamed jungle." She paused and lifted herself from the blanket. Moving to her father, she too reclined against the fence. "It is because you have never seen nature tamed in a way that benefits humanity and nature equally. That is why Liracon and more specifically our estate amaze you." She answered. Paitur smiled back at her, and looked to the sky. The sun was high, and Liracon's rings brightly visible.
"So tell me, what about you? Does this not amaze you also?" he asked sullenly. Okita looked out to the fields, as if trying to see them through her father's eyes.
"I was born here," she replied flatly, "I am used to it". Paitur frowned at her and sighed. She giggled softly and hugged him.
"You have become quite the provincial country man, father. And to think you once swashbuckled your way through the galaxy," At this, Paitur raised an eyebrow.
"I traded and bartered my way through the galaxy, darling. There really was very little swashbuckling involved. And what do you mean 'provincial'? I am a man of the galaxy, I will have you know," he said, sweeping a rogue strand of hair from her face.
"Mother told me about you once being a smuggler. It is just a shame that you lack an eye patch, as that would be the final proof required by my theory. And you are most certainly a provincial. Today is the first time in half a year that we have even talked about the universe away from Liracon," she said.
"Well, maybe I am a provincial. And by smuggler your mother is referring to an incident in which I delivered pharmaceuticals to some barbarian world whose government prohibited them. It was a mission of mercy more than anything. So what is this theory of yours?" he asked.
"You wish to know my theory? Oh, it is just a general suspicion that you are in fact the legendary 'Maroon Marauder', Master Pirate. It fits all available facts, really," said Okita in an entirely too convinced tone.
"The Maroon Marauder predates even Trantor. It is a myth, like the Spacers, Aurora and Earth," he said.
Okita removed a pair of glasses from the top pocket of her shirt and wore them. She raised an eyebrow and looked down from her nose to him.
"Actually, my dearest father, the Maroon Marauder has an abundance of evidence to support his existence. Quite unlike Earth and Aurora in that regard," she said, giving her best impression of an intellectual.
"Well, how can you explain that I would need to be over twenty-thousand years of age, assuming he existed?" he replied.
"And you do not look a day over fifteen-thousand!" Okita could stop herself no longer, and she burst into laughter. Paitur shook his head.
"Tell me, who did you inherit your sense of humour from? I certainly hope it was not -" he was interrupted by the growing sound of an approaching anti-gravity engine. "I guess that will be your handsome prince with his latest toy," he continued sardonically. This time it was Okita who frowned.
"He is a baron, not a prince. At least he will be one day. Please, just be civil to him," she pleaded.
"I will make no promises," he muttered.
"I have roamed the decaying remnants of the city-world Trantor. I have sailed across the violet oceans of Rhyai on a vessel as old and opulent as the First Galactic Empire; and I have marvelled at the technological wonders of Terminus. Why is it then, that the sight of this field, golden with Yakira and Lyplant, I would instantly deem a superior experience?"
Paitur Inthus reclined himself against the wooden fence that both defined and divided his estate. The green sun gave an emerald sheen to his silver hair and rugged earthy clothing. His daughter Okita, with her slender figure and light olive skin, lay upon a red silk blanket spread out on the fine ruddy sands. She was in deep concentration, reading from an electronic pad.
"I would say it is because you have achieved this particular miracle with your own hard labour." Her voice was soft and melodious. Paitur rubbed the stubble on his face, pondering what his daughter had said. Okita raised her head to look at him and smiled a row of brilliantly white teeth.
"But it was not difficult, and I did little work manually. The field robots achieved most, with me merely their instructor," said Paitur. Okita reached into the wicker basket next to her, and retrieved a small blue fruit. She gently threw it to her father, who caught it in his right hand. He bit into the fruit and drank the viscous fluid within.
"Maybe it is more simple even than pride. You were born on Comporelleon, father, a world infamous for the harsh tundra that engulfs it. This farm is something that was impossible for you to experience for the entirety of your early life. And of all the other worlds I have heard you speak of in the tales you tell of your travels, none are used for agriculture. Trantor is a dead metallic monstrosity, Rhyai covered in ocean, and Terminus a thousands of oases of suburban civilisation in an untamed jungle." She paused and lifted herself from the blanket. Moving to her father, she too reclined against the fence. "It is because you have never seen nature tamed in a way that benefits humanity and nature equally. That is why Liracon and more specifically our estate amaze you." She answered. Paitur smiled back at her, and looked to the sky. The sun was high, and Liracon's rings brightly visible.
"So tell me, what about you? Does this not amaze you also?" he asked sullenly. Okita looked out to the fields, as if trying to see them through her father's eyes.
"I was born here," she replied flatly, "I am used to it". Paitur frowned at her and sighed. She giggled softly and hugged him.
"You have become quite the provincial country man, father. And to think you once swashbuckled your way through the galaxy," At this, Paitur raised an eyebrow.
"I traded and bartered my way through the galaxy, darling. There really was very little swashbuckling involved. And what do you mean 'provincial'? I am a man of the galaxy, I will have you know," he said, sweeping a rogue strand of hair from her face.
"Mother told me about you once being a smuggler. It is just a shame that you lack an eye patch, as that would be the final proof required by my theory. And you are most certainly a provincial. Today is the first time in half a year that we have even talked about the universe away from Liracon," she said.
"Well, maybe I am a provincial. And by smuggler your mother is referring to an incident in which I delivered pharmaceuticals to some barbarian world whose government prohibited them. It was a mission of mercy more than anything. So what is this theory of yours?" he asked.
"You wish to know my theory? Oh, it is just a general suspicion that you are in fact the legendary 'Maroon Marauder', Master Pirate. It fits all available facts, really," said Okita in an entirely too convinced tone.
"The Maroon Marauder predates even Trantor. It is a myth, like the Spacers, Aurora and Earth," he said.
Okita removed a pair of glasses from the top pocket of her shirt and wore them. She raised an eyebrow and looked down from her nose to him.
"Actually, my dearest father, the Maroon Marauder has an abundance of evidence to support his existence. Quite unlike Earth and Aurora in that regard," she said, giving her best impression of an intellectual.
"Well, how can you explain that I would need to be over twenty-thousand years of age, assuming he existed?" he replied.
"And you do not look a day over fifteen-thousand!" Okita could stop herself no longer, and she burst into laughter. Paitur shook his head.
"Tell me, who did you inherit your sense of humour from? I certainly hope it was not -" he was interrupted by the growing sound of an approaching anti-gravity engine. "I guess that will be your handsome prince with his latest toy," he continued sardonically. This time it was Okita who frowned.
"He is a baron, not a prince. At least he will be one day. Please, just be civil to him," she pleaded.
"I will make no promises," he muttered.