John Ringo - There Will Be Dragons

“Won’t work,” Mike said, waving at the small field. “I didn’t plant to the edges. Corn needs light. He was with Myron, he should know that.”

“It’s Earnon,” Jody said, disgustedly. “And don’t even talk to me about Karlyn. She’s gone and joined a group of… well they’re calling them the Crazy Coven. A bunch of women, no men allowed, thank you, and you wouldn’t believe how they’re set up. But that’s not what I’m here about. Mike, I wanted your permission for something. I’m back to general woodcutting and charcoaling. Your land, but I’d like to cut some of your trees. You’re right close to the road and we can either haul them back that way or, more likely, roll them into the river and pull them back with the oxen in a raft. It’s a good setup and you’ll get some cleared land out of it for the loss of the timber. Earnon’s actually a bit closer but…”

“That would be—” Mike said.

“Would you and your crew like to eat lunch with us?” Courtney interjected. “I’ve found some fresh wild collards and one of Mike’s deadfalls caught a shoat. It’s really too much meat for us to eat before it spoils; we don’t have a smokehouse yet and it’ll only keep for a day or two in the springhouse.”

“I’d be glad to,” Jody replied. “I’ve brought hominy and some dried meat for meals while we’re working, but some fresh greens and pork would be great.”

“Well, we’ll talk business after lunch,” she said with a smile.

Mike didn’t say anything or change his expression, but he knew that Jody was about to be shaken down until his teeth rattled.

Three weeks later Jody and his crew moved on. They left behind a swath of cleared land that led from the main road all the way to the farmyard, five good hickory and two chestnut trunks that had been split and stacked to dry. There were five bushels of charcoal as well. They’d left one in five of their haul but Mike had pitched in from time to time as well as offering his ox when it was available and Courtney had done most of the cooking for the whole camp. Jody had been able to make more of a haul than he’d expected and Mike and Courtney had a huge swath of cleared land ready to plant. Everyone was happy with the deal.

Mike wasn’t sure what to do with the newly cleared land, however. It was already getting late in the season; the fast growing supercorn was already knee high and he didn’t have much in the way of other seeds.

After much thought he planted some more corn, despite the fact that he wasn’t sure if it would sprout in time, and then walked into town and looked up Myron Raeburn.

The farmer was working in his woodshop when Mike walked in and looked up in pleased surprise. “Mike, how’s it going?”

Mike told him of their relative success and the good news of Jody’s visit then went on to his problem. “The thing is, I’ve got a couple of hectares of extra cleared land and I don’t know what I should plant. And I don’t have the seeds or, frankly, money to buy them.”

“Bit of a problem,” Myron admitted. “It’s midsummer. Most of what you’d plant might not sprout unless you get a lucky thunderstorm for the water.”

“I can probably run some irrigation in,” Mike suggested. “I’ve got a good stream. But it’ll erode it some.”

“There’s a way to plow around that,” Myron said. “If the stream’s well placed you can crosscut your plowing and run some water in that way, but it won’t reach the full area. Corn might work. But… how much do you think you can water?”

“Of what’s left I haven’t planted, maybe a half a hectare,” Mike suggested.

“I’ll tell you what, this is a gamble,” Myron said. “But you might be able to get a cosilk crop in. You’ll have to keep it well watered and there’ll have to be an Indian Summer to gather it in; you can’t gather it wet. But if the weather holds good you could get in a good crop and the least you’ll get is the seeds. I’ll want a fifth of your crop and a fifth of the seeds for the seeds I’ll give you.”

Mike thought about it for a moment and frowned.

“Don’t be thinking of siccing Courtney on me,” Myron said with a grin. “I won’t give her a better deal.”

“Will do,” Mike replied with a laugh.

“I’ll throw in some good beans as well,” Myron added, getting up from his seat. “They won’t require as much water except for sprouting and you can water that by hand. And what you don’t store you can sell in town.”

So Mike returned with a basket full of seeds and went to work.

“Ishtar,” Sheida said as she appeared in her friend’s residence. “This is very nice.”

The home was placed on a mountaintop in central Taurania and the style was distinctly Tauranian with an open plan that looked inward on a courtyard with a fountain in the center. The floors were tile while the walls were covered in frescoes made from semiprecious gems. Beyond the walls the view was of a continuous stretch of rugged, tree-covered mountains. Nowhere was there a sign of habitation but Sheida knew that literally millions lived under her friend’s aegis.

Ishtar had been doing much the same thing as she had in the area of Taurania although the society she was creating was far more aristocratic than that in Norau. Ishtar’s position was also much looser than Sheida’s; she acted as a universal ombudsman to the various factions in the area rather than having a direct legal role. The people of the region were also much less legally attached, working in a very informal group of city-states.

Taurania had suffered less than many other areas because it had had a long tradition of maintaining “natural” society and because many of the homes in the area were traditional and centered on small towns rather than the broadly scattered societies in Norau and Ropasa. This had permitted the population to “fall in” on more or less stable societies. The entire region had once been environmentally devastated from millennia of overwork but even before the latter Council period aggressive reforestation and environmental rebuilding had refreshed the landscape. Sheida had seen pictures of the once denuded mountains and vast stretches of desert, but for the last few thousand years the region had been rebuilt until it was, once again, a virtual paradise.

Which had been fortunate for the residents of the region when the Fall occurred.

“Thank you,” Ishtar replied. “Fortunately, Paul has seen fit to not attack my home, yet. I keep the defense up, nonetheless.”

“Well, I hope he doesn’t hit it,” Sheida said. “We could barely spare the power. Which is what I’m here about.” She extended a virtual simulacrum of what looked like a very large dragonfly. “Aikawa came up with this idea. We need power and we’ve tapped all the traditional methods. But one that we haven’t tapped, because it is so diffuse, is solar.”

“Setting up panels…” Ishtar frowned.

“Not panels,” Sheida said. “What this does is spread nannites. It produces them in its body and then passes them on to other environmental enhancers like the pixies and hobs. It also is self-replicating; it’s a totally natural biological. But the nannites will provide power only to those who have the appropriate protocols. So it can spread nannites which will gather solar power and pass them on to those who need it.”

“It’s a very diffuse form of power,” Ishtar said, looking at the insect. “Then there’s the fact that if we spread around nannites that draw solar power, they’re bound to interfere with other solar processes, photosynthesis for example. And how does it fit in the environment? It will have to survive on its own.”

“Well, it draws a bit of power for its own use,” Sheida replied. “And it eats all the sorts of things that dragonflies eat. Naturally it will be a prey species as well. I’ve run some environmental models and it fits remarkably well, not too destabilizing at least.”