Three days later, Irene took her repair cart out to one of the eastern villages. This was the third village to the south. It was located just within the virgin forest along the edge of the cleared fields. The residents named it Woodheart. It was just before dawn when Irene parked her cart in front of the bakery. Smoke was rising from its chimney even at this early hour. She stepped up onto the wooden boardwalk outside the shop and knocked on the closed door. She heard a start of surprise from inside. Everyone in this small village would be well aware of the bakery’s hours. Someone knocking on the door at this time of day was an outsider.
Irene waited long enough that she wondered if she needed to come back during business hours. The door swung open. Linda, Irene’s sister-in-law stood in the doorway.
“Good morning, Linda,” Irene said, in greeting. “Is Benjamin available?”
“So you’re back,” Linda commented.
“Who is it?” a male voice called from inside the shop. Linda half turned to respond to her spouse. Irene noted her sister-in-law’s large stomach and concluded that she was expecting again.
“It's your sister, Irene,” Linda responded.
“Don’t leave her standing out there. Bring her back and we can talk while I finish this batch,” Benjamin called back. Linda stepped to the side and motioned for Irene to enter. Irene stepped through the door and into the warmth of the interior of the building. The front shop room was mostly dark. It was lit by a wedge of light coming from a partially open door into the back room and the single candle in Linda’s hand.
Irene crossed to the partially open door as Linda closed and secured the shop door. She pushed the door open to find her brother forming loaves at a wooden work table. The room was very warm. The back wall was the bakery's oven. The door to the oven was slightly open. A long handled baking peel was standing upright beside the door.
Irene heard a child’s cry come from above. The child sounded very young. Irene wondered if she was misjudging her sister-in-law's condition. She thought Linda might not be expecting a new child but that her shape wasn’t recovered from giving birth to the last one. Childbirth outside the structure was much more dangerous and took far longer to recover from. It was this disadvantage and the need to care for the newborn that caused women to become tied to the home on the old world. Without fertility control, women were caught in the loop of pregnancy, recovery, infant care, pregnancy.
“I’ll go check on the babe,” Linda said, as she passed them, heading to a small door in the sidewall of the workroom. Irene knew that the door led to a stairwell that gave access to the living quarters above.
“Take your time dear,” Benjamin said. “Irene can help me finish up here.” After his spouse left the room, Benjamin turned his attention to his youngest sister. He noted her thin state and the disarray of her hair. She was wearing a worn outfit made out of heavy leather. Dark shadows were under her eyes. He stopped rolling the loaves, an action that would have shocked Linda if she was still there to see it.
“Are you alright?” he asked Irene.
“No,” Irene replied bluntly. She ran a hand under her eyes and took a deep breath. She promised herself she was done crying. She was not going to break down at the first sign of concern.
“What happened?” Benjamin asked gently.
“I don’t think I can talk about it,” Irene responded. “I just didn’t want to be alone.”
Benjamin didn’t know what to think. He and Irene were never close. He was six years older than her, one of the first set of settler infants. Irene was one of the last set. He wanted to send her down to the southernmost village where their sister Helen made her home, only Helen died two winters ago. Benjamin doubted that Irene even knew. Even Benjamin could tell that now was not the time to tell her.
“Go wash your hands in the basin over there,” Benjamin said, indicating a wash station in a corner of the room, “and I will teach you how to roll loaves.”
Irene followed his instructions. She cleaned and dried her hands, before joining him. First he showed her how to size the dough using a simple balance and weighted measures. He demonstrated to her how to roll and shape a loaf. She did surprisingly well for a beginner. Benjamin used the baker's peel to load the loaves into the oven.
“We get to take a break now,” Benjamin said, when all the dough in the mix box was made into loaves and loaded into the oven. “Come on up for tea and toast. It is day-old bread, but a dollop of preserves will make it go down easily enough.”
“You don’t need to feed me,” Irene countered. “I ate something on the Speedwell.”
“When? Yesterday?” Benjamin asked critically, once more looking at Irene’s thin form. “Come,” he said again, “you can’t say no to bread in a baker’s house.”
Irene followed her brother up the stairs to the small kitchen above. Linda was walking the floor with a bundled child in her arms. The baby looked happy enough if wide awake. Benjamin took the baby from his spouse, before telling Irene to take a seat at the table. Benjamin sat in the chair at the end of the table and jiggled the baby on his knee.
Irene sat down on his right. She brushed some of the flour off the leather of her armor, and ran one slightly shaky hand over her hair. To her embarrassment her hand snagged on tangles. She couldn’t recall when she last combed it out. Irene caught Linda giving her a second glance, before sharing a look with her spouse. She moved to lay out the promised toast and preserves. She made tea from water that was heating on a small charcoal brazier.
“There’s been a war inside the structure,” Irene admitted suddenly. She wasn’t certain why she felt the need to tell her brother. “Christopher was killed about nine months ago,” Irene explained. Christopher was another of their siblings. Benjamin was startled, but thought this was his chance to clear the air about Helen.
“Helen died two winters ago,” Benjamin announced. “Her spouse and children are still living in Bayou,” he said, giving the name of the southernmost village.
“I lost track of Mary, but she was in the structure at one point,” Irene responded, naming her oldest sister. “Phillip is still living in Londontown with Mother.”
“Your mother is still alive?” Linda burst out, surprised by this news. The old woman must be nearly a hundred, or maybe even older.
“Yes,” Irene responded. “She has dementia or something. She doesn’t remember me. She clings very tightly to Phillip.” Irene didn’t see any reason to tell them that their mother was known as the queen of Londontown. It would be meaningless to them here.
“She always did favor Phillip,” Benjamin commented. “I could never understand it. It was obvious to all of us that you and Thomas were the trueborn children.” Each single member of the last generation of flight crew was issued four children. Each couple was issued eight. Of the eight children only two were genetically related to their parents, the rest were grown from stored genetic material. They were added to assure genetic diversity among the settlers.
“All of us were gestated in the Speedwell’s artificial wombs,” Irene countered with some force. “We are all trueborn children of the colony.” She fell silent for a moment, lost in thought. “I can’t really blame our parents for having favorites. It was on the schedule so it just happened. No one asked them if they wanted to raise eight children in their elder years,” Irene continued after the brief pause.
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Irene was scarred by whatever happened. Benjamin could see that. He could see that she was also damaged by their perfectly normal childhood. He felt a little jealous of her when she came last time and told him she was going into the ruins. She told him about life and magic in the structure. She keyed him into the Speedwell’s security so that the villages could continue to use the medical and manufacturing facilities. Somehow his dutiful sister who kept everything running turned into an adventurer when he wasn’t looking.
Looking at her now, with the shadows in her eyes, he was suddenly grateful for his steady life as a baker and the love and support of his wife and children. He may not have experienced the highs of an adventurer's life, but he wasn’t forced to endure the lows of it either.
“I don’t know what happened to Thomas,” Irene commented, “Beatrice either.”
“I heard a rumor they both went with a group that crossed the eastern ridge,” Benjamin commented.
“Did a group go east?” Irene asked. “I didn’t know that.”
“A small group,” Linda said, “only about twenty. One of my brothers went as well. They left even before the land grants. I don’t think anyone ever heard from them again.” Irene nodded her head, indicating she understood they were likely dead. She could pull up the data from the advance ship and see what was to the east. She never really thought about what was in that direction before. Irene ate some of the toast. It was very good. Irene wouldn’t have known it wasn’t fresh. The tea was some kind of herbal blend she didn’t recognize.
“What are your plans?” Benjamin asked. Irene ran her fingers through the ends of her tangled hair as she thought about her response.
“I need to catch up on the Speedwell’s maintenance,” she said finally. “I haven’t thought beyond that.”
“We’ve been running low on wheat,” Linda commented.
“There is plenty in the storehouses,” Irene responded. “I added you to the security roster,” she said to her brother. “You could pull whatever you needed.” Linda gave her spouse a sharp look. It appeared Benjamin didn’t tell her that part.
“I don’t believe in charity,” Benjamin countered. “It is an insult saying I can’t take care of myself.” Irene sighed.
“Do you have some kind of currency you use?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” Benjamin responded.
“What do you sell your loaves for?” Irene asked.
“Iron weights,” Linda responded. She rose from her seat and went to a box tucked away on a shelf. She pulled the box down. She returned to the table and opened the box showing Irene its contents. Inside were cut pieces of the iron ingots the Speedwell’s refiners produced. She remembered that Benjamin’s scale below used stones for its weights. This display made Irene think the villages must be starved for iron.
“Doesn’t anyone do the listed jobs for Speedwell credits anymore?” Irene asked.
“Not for a while,” Benjamin responded. “We are all too busy.”
Irene felt through the pockets of her armor and found a physical coin. She pulled it out and set it on the table. Luckily it was iron.
“How would you value that?” Irene asked. Benjamin picked up the coin and weighed it in his hand.
“Maybe a quarter weight,” he said before passing it to his spouse. Linda hefted the coin and nodded her agreement before inspecting it closer.
“This is really fine work,” she said after studying it. “Where did you get it?”
“It is a structure coin,” Irene responded. “I can set up the warehouse to buy and sell material for these coins or something like them. That way you can sell your excess off when you have it and use the coins to buy wheat and flour after the harvest. Would that work?”
“We don’t have much excess,” Linda commented.
“I wasn’t thinking of the bakery directly. I meant the lumberjacks can sell wood, the hunters furs or the ranchers leather. The Speedwell’s manufacturing facilities are short on some materials so many of the end products can’t be made anymore. If the villages provide that raw material the Speedwell can pay in coins. The lumberjacks, hunters and farmers could then pay for your bread with the coins and you could use them to buy wheat from the Speedwell farms.” Irene was fully aware that she was describing something very close to the vendor system in the structure. It was a system designed to distribute goods without stripping the meaning and value from people’s lives. The Speedwell would buy items from the villages that they could produce and sell them items they couldn’t. Most of what the Speedwell bought would end up being recycled, but right now most of the harvest was. The process would leave everyone with their pride.
“It might work,” Linda said, turning the coin over in her hand. “You would need to spread the news about it somehow.”
“It would work better if there were exchange points closer to each village,” Benjamin added. “It is a long trip up to the Speedwell for most of us. The list of items on offer or being purchased needs to be clear, along with the current prices.”
Irene turned the project over in her mind. She would need to set it up so the warehouse bought a lot of items in the beginning to spread the coins. Once a certain amount was in circulation she would scale back, so that the warehouses were only a minor part of the villages’ economy. She could do a survey of how much items were selling for in iron weight to begin with. She could use statistics to alter the prices offered over time, offering more for hard to produce items and less for the easy stuff. She would have to be careful not to sell the products from the automated fields too cheaply if anyone was farming the same thing by hand. She didn’t want to devalue a hard working farmer’s crop.
“I have a comb you can borrow for your hair,” Linda offered. Irene realized she was sitting there playing her hair, working the tangles out with her fingers as she considered the project.
“That’s ok,” Irene said, rising to her feet. “I should go get cleaned up. Thank you for breakfast.”
“Come visit us anytime,” Benjamin said. The baby he held was finally falling asleep. He carefully shifted it to rise to his feet. He handed the infant to his spouse, before escorting his sister downstairs.
He recognized the maintenance cart waiting in the street outside his shop. It seemed so odd to see it there. It was an item from the far past to him. As Irene passed him in the doorway, Benjamin stopped her with a soft touch on her shoulder.
“Will you be alright?” he asked.
“Yes,” Irene said, turning to look at him. Her eyes seemed clearer and he was reassured.
“Come to dinner,” he said.
“I’d like that,” Irene replied. “Thank you for teaching me to make loaves.”
“My pleasure,” Benjamin responded.
Irene stepped through the door. She crossed the boardwalk and stepped up into the cart. She flicked a few controls and the cart smoothly rolled away. The sun was just rising in the east.
Benjamin returned back into his shop. He checked the oven before heading up to the kitchen. Linda was sitting at the table drinking her tea. Benjamin settled down beside her.
“I invited her to dinner,” Benjamin told his spouse. “I don’t know if she will come.”
“Did your mother really not like her, even though Irene was her true child?” Linda asked.
“Yes,” Benjamin replied. “Father didn’t like her either. He couldn’t handle that she was smarter than him. I never understood Mother. She made rather cutting comments about how Irene picked engineering over medicine when her aptitudes qualified her for both. I don’t think that was really the problem, even before the aptitudes, Mother favored Phillip.”
“That is so strange. In my family the true children were heavily favored,” Linda commented.
“They didn’t favor Thomas either, but at least they didn’t single him out in disapproval. He played the party boy, never serious about anything. That’s partly why I never really believed he went with that group east,” Benjamin observed. He sighed. “When I think back I realize she must have been very lonely. She said as much last time she was here. I don’t think I believed her then, I do now,” Benjamin said.
“What do you think happened to her?” Linda asked.
“Someone she trusted betrayed her,” Benjamin responded. “That or someone she loved died, or maybe both, perhaps in that war she mentioned.”
“I think she did something she can’t forgive herself for. She has come here looking for acceptance because she knows she can’t find it among people who know what she did,” Linda said critically. She never really liked Irene. The woman was so cold. She was always studying or working. She never came to any of the socials. She didn’t seem to ever do anything just for fun. Even if Linda felt a little sorry for Irene now, Linda wasn’t certain she wanted a woman with so little joy in her around her children.
“It doesn’t matter what she did or didn’t do,” Benjamin responded. “She is my sister. She will always be welcome in my house.” Benjamin said these words with a little more force than he intended, startled as he was by his spouse's words.
“She isn’t really your sister,” Linda countered. “She is trueborn, you aren’t.”
“You heard her,” Benjamin said with finality. “We are all trueborn children of the Speedwell.”