[#198] A Bumper Crop (Torchwood)

[badly_knitted]

Theme Prompt: #198 – Harvest Time
Title: A Bumper Crop
Fandom: Torchwood.
Rating/Warnings: PG / None
Bonus: No
Word Count: 1000
Summary: It’s time for Ianto and Jack to bring in the latest valuable crop, and they won’t be short of helpers.




Stepping out onto the wide porch of their rambling, surprisingly earthlike ranch-style house, Ianto drew a deep breath of the fresh early morning air and let it out in a happy sigh. The sun was just coming up, and though the planet clearly wasn’t the one he’d grown up on, it was similar enough to feel like home, as long as he ignored the three moons, two of which were still in the sky, and didn’t look too closely at the trees.

It was a beautiful morning, sunny and warm with only a few scattered cloudlets marring the violet-tinged blue of the sky. The air was redolent with a warm, earthy fragrance, and everything was green, or at least greenish, and flourishing.

Jack stepped out of the kitchen behind him and came to join him at the porch railing, leaning his forearms on the silvery weathered wood that they’d planed down to smoothness when they’d built their home, with the help of the locals, some two-hundred years earlier.

“So, what d’you think. Harvest time?”

“Harvest time,” Ianto agreed with a satisfied smile. “The weather’s perfect for it.”

“Well, we won’t have any trouble getting assistance. For the past month I’ve had folks coming up to me every time I’ve been in town, wanting to know when the harvest will begin, volunteering themselves and their families, willing to take a few days off from their regular jobs to help out.”

Ianto nodded. “They know we’ll pay well, and be there to help them when it comes time to get their crops in. That’s one of the reasons we settled here, the community spirit, everyone cooperating with each other to get essential tasks done so no one’s ever left struggling to cope by themselves.”

The other main reason was that the climate was ideal for the crop Ianto intended to grow. Better yet, because of the planet’s curious orbit around its primary, there were two growing seasons every year, and two harvests, which doubled production.

The two immortals still plied their trade among the stars as independent hauliers, but now they carried their own produce, as well as transporting cargoes for other people, and made a very healthy profit doing so. When they were away on their ship, the plantation was left in the very capable hands of Lyriel, their youngest granddaughter, and her family.

She’d been fascinated by her grandparents’ business from the time she could walk, tagging along after them as they checked the development of their crops, soaking up knowledge like a sponge. These days she owned her own plantation to the west of theirs, and would no doubt be beginning her own harvest today, with the able help of her children, grandchildren, and anyone else who cared to lend a hand.

“I’ll send out the call.” Jack pushed away from the railing. Harvest would continue around the clock until all the latest crop was in, teams of gatherers working in rotating seven-hour shifts, one shift on followed by two off. The locals’ own crops wouldn’t be harvest ready for another eighty days, so there was no conflict of interest, and anyway, anyone who was able would want to there for the big post-harvest party Jack and Ianto always threw. It was as much a tradition by now as the harvest itself.

While the call went out and they waited for the willing workers to start arriving, Ianto brewed coffee and started breakfast. Their eight-year-old twin daughters, Toshi and Lowri, were already up and outside, collecting eggs from their small flock of domesticated Pikku, flightless birds that looked similar to kiwis but laid eggs of a more manageable size.

Hari, their fifteen-year-old son, was busy in the stables, grooming two of the horses his parents had imported from earth several years ago. They were mostly used for riding, but during harvest time the strongest pair were harnessed to wagons that would haul the crop from the fields to the open-sided barns. There, Hari’s older brother and sister, assisted by a team of locals, would spread the beans to dry.

It hadn’t taken Jack and Ianto long to realise even halfway decent coffee was almost impossible to get anywhere but earth, so they’d made it their mission to find a world where they could grow their own. What had started out as one small field, growing the beans for their personal use, had by now grown into a plantation covering approximately two thousand hectares of land unsuitable for the crops the native farmers grew. A second plantation, Lyriel’s, covered an additional thousand hectares. That added up to a lot of coffee beans; it could be justly claimed that Ianto Harkness-Jones had brought coffee to the wider universe, and the universe certainly appreciated it.

“The first shift of workers should be here by the time we finish our breakfast,” Jack told his husband, expertly fielding the twin whirlwinds and relieving them of their egg baskets before sending the girls to wash their hands. “They’ll be bringing their own wagons.”

Although there were solar powered vehicles available, they didn’t run well on the slopes where the coffee plants grew, so harvesting was always carried out by hand, with the beans then loaded into wagons that were mostly drawn by teams of surefooted, goatlike animals called Vilka.

“It looks like being a bumper crop,” Ianto said, pouring coffee for the family. “The weather’s been good to us this season.”

“I hope next season will be just as good. The rate things are going, pretty soon we won’t be able to keep up with demand. Everyone wants coffee.”

“Might have to set up another plantation or two. Maybe we should terraform that uninhabited moon we found on our last survey trip. We already claimed it as part of our payment, and it shouldn’t take too much work to turn it into a working plantation.”

“Something to think about after we bring this harvest in. Right now, I think we’ve got enough to deal with.”


The End