Fic: A Bumper Crop
Title: A Bumper Crop
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, OCs.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: It’s time for Ianto and Jack to bring in the latest valuable crop, and they won’t be short of helpers.
Word Count: 1083
Written For: Prompt 198 - Harvest Time at fandomweekly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
A/N: Set in my Ghost of a Chance ‘Verse.
Stepping out onto the wide porch of their rambling, surprisingly earth-like ranch-style house, Ianto drew in a deep breath of the clean, 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 at moments such as this to feel like home. At least, it was 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 rich, 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. Passing his husband a steaming mug and sipping from his own, he leaned 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, more than 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 own crops in. That’s one of the reasons we settled here, isn’t it? The community spirit, everyone cooperating with each other to get essential tasks done so no one’s ever left struggling to cope by themselves.”
Jack nodded. “It is.”
The other main reason was that the climate was ideal for the crop Ianto had wanted 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. In Ianto’s opinion, that was never a bad thing.
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 they made a very healthy profit doing so. They always tried to be home in time for the harvest, but when they were away on their ship, the plantation was left in the very capable hands of their youngest granddaughter, Lyriel, and her family.
Lyriel had 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.” Draining his mug, 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 ready to harvest 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 a fresh round of 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 were less aggressive and 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 almost a decade 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 that 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 almost exclusively 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 justifiably claimed that Ianto Harkness-Jones had brought coffee to the wider universe, and the universe certainly appreciated his efforts.
“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 the fresh 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.”
Jack nodded. “Something to think about, but it’ll have to wait until after we bring this harvest in. Right now, I think we’ve got enough to deal with.”
The End
Author: badly_knitted
Characters: Ianto, Jack, OCs.
Rating: PG
Spoilers: Nada.
Summary: It’s time for Ianto and Jack to bring in the latest valuable crop, and they won’t be short of helpers.
Word Count: 1083
Written For: Prompt 198 - Harvest Time at fandomweekly.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Torchwood, or the characters. They belong to the BBC.
A/N: Set in my Ghost of a Chance ‘Verse.
Stepping out onto the wide porch of their rambling, surprisingly earth-like ranch-style house, Ianto drew in a deep breath of the clean, 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 at moments such as this to feel like home. At least, it was 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 rich, 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. Passing his husband a steaming mug and sipping from his own, he leaned 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, more than 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 own crops in. That’s one of the reasons we settled here, isn’t it? The community spirit, everyone cooperating with each other to get essential tasks done so no one’s ever left struggling to cope by themselves.”
Jack nodded. “It is.”
The other main reason was that the climate was ideal for the crop Ianto had wanted 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. In Ianto’s opinion, that was never a bad thing.
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 they made a very healthy profit doing so. They always tried to be home in time for the harvest, but when they were away on their ship, the plantation was left in the very capable hands of their youngest granddaughter, Lyriel, and her family.
Lyriel had 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.” Draining his mug, 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 ready to harvest 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 a fresh round of 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 were less aggressive and 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 almost a decade 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 that 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 almost exclusively 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 justifiably claimed that Ianto Harkness-Jones had brought coffee to the wider universe, and the universe certainly appreciated his efforts.
“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 the fresh 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.”
Jack nodded. “Something to think about, but it’ll have to wait until after we bring this harvest in. Right now, I think we’ve got enough to deal with.”
The End