Page 55 of Jarran

She laughed. A real one this time, bright and loud, and his face lit up at the sound. “Fair enough,” she said. “But what I meant was, what do you want to do for the rest of our lives?”

TWENTY-FOUR

Jarran turned the leaf over, checking the pale underside where yajwing larvae liked to cluster. Nothing. No eggs, no bore marks, no sticky residue. He released the leaf and it bounced back into place among the others, blue-green and healthy and exactly where it should be.

He straightened up and looked down the row. The plants stretched out ahead of him in neat, even lines. Their broad leaves caught the filtered light that came through the dome overhead. Real crops, growing in real dirt. The roots went deep. He could smell the soil, rich and dark, turned and enriched over months of hard work. It was the best smell in the world.

He pulled a handheld climate monitor, which doubled as a communication device, from his pocket and checked the humidity reading. Sixty-eight percent. Good. The dome’s climate system kept the interior stable, but he liked to verify it himself. He’d spent too many tericycles in environments he couldn’t control. Now he had a farm, and he checked everything.

The dome was large, covering many square acres of Virilian surface land near Tagja City. It had been an outpost once. He’d proposed trying to make the surface viable again, and King Virak, who was a botanical and animal lover himself, had sent Virilian construction drones to build the dome like a protective shell against the dangerous wildlife and the brutal surface climate. A tunnel connected the dome to the city below. Settlers had started arriving, a handful at first and then more, drawn by the promise of surface-level housing and open space. It was becoming a community.

Jarran moved along the row, brushing his fingers across the tops of the saplings as he passed. One day, hopefully, this section would be an orchard. He’d planted six varieties of fruit trees, and so far, all had adapted to the dome’s conditions. Four of them were thriving. The other two needed more time, but he was patient. Growing things required patience.

He reached the end of the row and turned to walk back along the next one. The dome curved above him, letting in the pale Virilian sky. In the distance, past the edge of the cultivated field, he could see the cluster of buildings that made up the settlement. His and Evie’s house was there, a low, solid structure with wide windows that Evie had picked out. Her medical clinic was next to it, where Evie treated the workers and settlers who came through.

Movement caught his eye and he saw a figure walking toward him across the field.

Jarran shaded his eyes. The figure was tall, broad-shouldered, and moved with a familiar stride and a tail that swung in an easy rhythm behind him.

Taron raised a hand.

Jarran raised his in return and walked to meet his brother.

“Your crops look good,” Taron said. He looked out across the rows with an appraising eye. “Better than the last time I was here.”

“They are better. The soil amendments are working.” Jarran gestured toward the far end of the field. “I put in a new section last week. Root vegetables. They should be ready by the start of the cool season.”

“Evie must be pleased.”

“Evie does like fresh produce.” Jarran smiled, thinking of his beloved mate. “I am learning how to cook,” he added. “Now that is very enjoyable.”

Taron smiled and shook his head. “You surprise me every time I see you, brother. How is Father?”

Jarran’s smile faded, but he nodded. “His body grows weaker, but he is well. I brought him some of my soup yesterday and he seemed to enjoy it.” Jarran shrugged, not quite sure if everyone was humoring him about his food or if it was actually good. It tasted good to him, but his palate had been limited for so long, everything with flavor tasted good to him. “I am glad I was able to reconcile with Father before… Well, I suggest you pay him a visit while you’re here.”

“I will,” Taron replied.

They walked together to a low stone wall at the edge of the field and sat down. One of the Virilian suns was dropping toward the horizon, and the sky through the dome had turned shades of peach and gold. They watched it in comfortable silence for a moment.

“How is Amelia?” Jarran asked.

Taron’s expression softened. “She’s well. Busy. She’s been working on expanding the trading routes between Tagja City and Exir. The woman does not slow down.” He paused. “She told me to tell you that she wants to visit the farm. She wants to see your irrigation layout.”

Jarran laughed. “She is welcome anytime. We’re building a few guest housing units for anyone who wants to experience some time above ground. You both, and your little Benli, are welcome anytime.”

“Thank you. Our son is growing fast.” Taron stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed his ankles. “Starting to walk. Amelia says he has my stubbornness.”

“She would know…”

Taron cut him a look, but his mouth twitched. “How is Evie feeling? With the pregnancy?”

“Tired, but good. She’s showing now.” Jarran’s chest warmed at the thought of her. “The baby is healthy. Silca is monitoring everything remotely and says the development is normal.”

“Will the baby have a tail?”

Jarran paused. “We don’t know yet.”

“She will have a tail.” Taron said this with absolute certainty. “Trust me.”