The Sting of the Bee

by K E Lanning

  Roscha slammed his hand onto the tabletop. “The contract clearly states that a homesteader must perform or forfeit their land!”

  John pushed his way to the front and stood by the couple. “Aren’t you also supposed to aid us in carving out a home?” John turned to the packed hall, waving his arm toward the front table. “How many of you elected these people?”

  Lips tight, Roscha stood up and leaned his hands on the table. “We aren’t elected. We’re appointed by the United Nations and under their authority!”

  John replied, “My point exactly. You have the authority to evict us from our land”—he swung his arm back to the crowd—“without the slightest representation from us.”

  Lowry called out, “Roscha, isn’t the Daniels homestead near the proposed rail hub?”

  Sinking back into his seat, Roscha drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. He picked up the gavel and slammed in on the table. “This meeting is adjourned.”

  “I think he’s answered your question, Lowry.” John turned back to the crowd. “The time has come for us to have our own government, a government elected by us, to represent our issues, and to not allow outsiders to dictate laws and policy! It’s time the homesteaders on Antarctica had rights of our own!”

  Cheers and shouts sprang from the crowd.

  John turned back to Roscha. “How much land do the Daniels need to have planted?”

  Roscha’s lip twitched. “What business is it of yours?”

  John clenched his jaw. Then he repeated, very slowly, “How much land do the Daniels need to have planted?”

  Roscha choked in his rage. “Fifty hectares.”

  John stared at Roscha and waved his hand. “You can forget about the eviction. The fifty hectares will be planted before the week is out.”

  The room was hushed, until a single person clapped, then spontaneous waves of clapping and hurrahs filled the hall. John turned around to the cheering settlers. Self-consciously, he rested his hand on Kiki’s shoulder for a moment and turned to leave. Happy faces lined the aisle as he cut his way to the exit.

  At the door, he turned back. Roscha leaned on the table, a grimace pasted on his sour face. Nearby, Lowry stood in the midst of the applauding crowd, gazing at him. Smiling, she joined him at the door. “Well done, sir.”

  ***

  That evening, John hovered to the airport near Amundsen to pick up Ginnie. He waved as she walked into the terminal from the plane. They hugged and went to the baggage claim for her luggage.

  He grabbed her bag. “How was the weather in Pittsburgh?”

  “It was colder in Pennsylvania than here!”

  He laughed. “I got a nice tan at the beach.”

  Ginnie stuck her tongue out at him. “You did not.”

  “What did you do during the holidays?”

  Ginnie shrugged. “Shopping and my friends held a belated Sweet Sixteen birthday party for me.”

  “Nice! And I hope you did some stuff with your grandparents.”

  She sighed. “Well, we visited Mom’s and the twins’ grave.”

  John swallowed hard. While he was here making love to Lowry.

  With a smile, she asked, “What did you really do while I was gone?”

  They reached the hover and he put her bag in the back. “Oh, nothing much.” He glanced at her and rubbed his chin. He had thought to discuss his new relationship with Lowry on the ride home, but maybe it wasn’t the best time. Or maybe you’re just a coward. He put the hover on auto pilot. “Home.”

  As they floated over the rising plain toward the farm, Ginnie chatted about her old friends and various holiday parties.

  “Ginnie, we have a project tomorrow helping one of our neighbors plant their land. The authorities are trying to kick them off due to noncompliance. But they couldn’t keep to their contract because of health issues.”

  “Wow, I guess the UN was serious on the planting requirement, but sure, I’ll help.”

  The following day, John and Ginnie went to the Daniels’ farm. John slowed at the sight of a crowd gathered in the yard, waving at their arrival.

  John spotted one of his neighbors, Kim Son, and called out to him, “What’s all this?”

  “Everyone’s here to help you plant the Daniels’ land!”

  John smiled. “Let’s get cracking!”

  They parked and walked toward the barn. Fruit and nut trees lay roped together, ready for planting. John stopped beside a woman with a large brimmed hat, standing in front of the trees. With raised eyebrows, he asked, “Where did these come from?”

  “Donations.” She smiled broadly. “This will double the size of their orchards.”

  “Fantastic!”

  They had more than enough people to plant the land. Settlers from all of the homestead areas had come to help or donated supplies. Within the first few hours, he had helped organize the planting crews and supply drops—and broken up a fight.

  Mid-morning, Ginnie waved to him, pulling a small trailer with a water station behind the hover. “This is more of a festival than a planting day.”

  After she left, John loaded seed onto the back of one of the hovers, then he heard a vaguely familiar voice behind him.

  “Having fun?”

  John wiped his face with his handkerchief and glanced around.

  Arms crossed, Durant stood gazing at him, with his trademark condescending look.

  John flinched. He loaded the last seed bag on the cart and faced him. “You’re like the cat that keeps coming back. Did you buy a ‘get out of jail card?’”

  Durant shrugged. “Something like that.”

  “What are you doing here?” John demanded. “I figured you were one of the prime reasons these folks were getting kicked off their land to begin with. I’m sure, despite any inconvenient legal obstacles you’ve had to remove, that you’re still involved in the rail hub.”

  He smiled and waved toward the planting crews. “And miss this photo op? Surely you jest! These people think I’m here to help them in their struggle—I personally donated the saplings. There will be other land for the rail hub. One must be able to turn defeat into victory, my good friend.”

  With pinched lips, John stared at him. Leave it to Durant to benefit from someone else’s tragedy and pervert it into a farce to garner votes. “I ain’t your friend.” John growled.

  Durant lost his polite manner. “You’re aware the elections are a few weeks away?”

  “I heard that rumor.”

  Exhaling, Durant gestured to John. “I won’t banter with you. I need your support. You’re a natural leader, John. People’s votes will be swayed by your words.”

  John guffawed, and then shaking his head, stared at Durant. “Why, in God’s name, would I support you?”

  “To be on the winning side, of course,” he replied, with his signature sneer.

  John’s grin faded at the smirk on Durant’s face. What lay beneath that cocky look? “Let’s cut to the chase—what are you selling?”

  “Your endorsement, in trade for anything you want.” Durant threw up his hands and leaned toward John. “It’s a waste! You’re groveling like a pig in the mud, grunting with the rest. You have a brain in your head, why don’t you use it?”

  John leaned back on the hovercart. A master of manipulation, Durant was a con man who could be whoever he needed to be for that audience. Like a puppet master, he tugged the strings of Hope and Fear; over-guaranteeing the first and exploiting the second—a true Machiavellian.

  Durant stared at him, waiting for an answer.

  John studied him, and then said softly, “When a bee searches for nectar, he must beware the Venus Fly Trap. Once ensnared, the sting of the bee is futile—there is no escape.”

  His lips thinned. “Mr. Barrous, I assure you, I am no Venus Fly Trap.”

  A smile flitted briefly onto John’s face. “Of course not, Mr. Durant—you are the bee.”

  Durant’s eyes flickered. “Did you know that Napoleon’s symbol was a be
e?”

  “If I remember correctly, Napoleon was defeated.”

  “He made some tactical errors, which I will not.” Durant pursed his lips. “I know you support Nick.” Shrugging, he raised his eyebrows. “But one never knows how things will turn out.”

  John felt a cold pit in his stomach. “What do you have up your sleeve?”

  “Keep tuned to this station.”

  John swallowed hard. My god, he has something on Nick. “You’re a real bastard!”

  A smile flashed onto Durant’s face, then faded. “First a bee, now a bastard.” He stared at John with a withering look, and then said, “If you want to benefit from my election to president, I suggest you join the winners. The losers will find themselves, I’m afraid, at a disadvantage.” With a dismissive wave, he walked away, and joined a nearby crowd, smiling and shaking hands with the farmers.

  John found Lowry in the crowd. “Lowry,” he called. Turning toward his voice, she raised her hand to him, her face white and pinched, and he realized something was amiss. He touched her arm. “What’s wrong?”

  Lowry shrugged. “I just heard that the older man, ‘Daddy,’ who broke into my house, has escaped. They were transferring him to a ship returning to the U.S. and he overcame the guard.” She exhaled and stared at John. In a thin voice, she whispered, “They have no idea where he is.”

  John rested his hand on her shoulder. “Lowry, you have Chuy at the ranch, and you are always welcome to stay with Ginnie and I.”

  Lowry shook her head. “No, I’ll keep a loaded gun with me until they catch him.”

  “And that will be soon, I’m sure.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and drew her away from the others, whispering, “I need to talk to you about something else. Come take a walk with me.”

  They climbed a small hill, overlooking the fields rapidly being planted by the volunteers. Robo-tractors sowed barley in the far field, and below them, a small child waved a stick baton like a drum major, leading wagons stacked with fruit and nut saplings across a field, followed by singing homesteaders.

  At the edge of the field, Durant stood on a hovercart in the middle of a crowd. And by his gestures, churning out some pretty speech. Among the innocent sheep lurked a wolf named Durant.

  “Durant is here.” John pointed at the gathering around Durant. “Taking advantage of the day by wooing the crowd.” He looked at Lowry. “And I just had an interesting conversation with him.” “

  Lowry squinted at Durant gesticulating to the settlers. “Once the devil gets your address, it’s hard to keep him away.” She turned to him. “What did his majesty want from you?”

  “He wants my vote, of course, and as many others as I could round up.”

  “Was he serious?” She stared at John. “Why does he think you would vote for him?”

  “Durant assured me that I would ‘profit’ by his election—his version of ‘healthier and wealthier,’ if I was on the winning side.”

  Lowry looked at John. “Nick is locked in with the miners and he has fairly good support with the new immigrants, but I’ll grant you, there is a segment of the homesteaders who have bought Durant’s line.”

  John shook his head with a snort. “There’s a pretty broad swing vote, Lowry, and I’m afraid Durant has something that might be deadly to Nick.”

  Lowry’s mouth dropped open. She whispered, “What does he have?”

  John shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m sure he’ll tell the world—right before the election.”

  “There’ll be hell to pay if Durant wins the presidency.”

  CHAPTER 21

  Tall fields of wheat and corn rippled in the wind as the summer faded, and the cattle and horses grew their winter coats. The work on the farm never stopped, and Lowry busily prepared for the harsh Antarctic winter. When John had asked Ginnie if she wanted to help with the horses, she’d been delighted.

  That afternoon, Ginnie pulled up to the stables in the hovercar and parked under the shed roof.

  Ginnie called out, “Hellooo,” and stuck her head through the door.

  “Come on in,” Lowry said, brushing the colt in the stable aisle.

  Henry dog-trotted up to Lowry, wagging his tail. Lowry petted the dog’s back. “Henry, glad you could join us.” His brother, Leo, ran up and leapt onto Henry with a playful growl. The colt shied backwards.

  “Whoa, Bashira,” Lowry said. “Leo, go play with Henry outside. Outside!” Lowry pointed to the exit. Leo ran out and Henry chased after him.

  Ginnie scooted around the stablebot, taking a load of manure to the compost pile, then slowly walked up to the colt. “Hi, Bashira.” She stroked his face and said, “Dad told me about the trek—I can’t wait! It’ll be a great end-of-summer trip.”

  Lowry raised her eyebrows at Ginnie’s excited face. “This won’t be an easy trail ride.”

  “Don’t tell that to my dad.”

  Lowry winked. “It’ll be our secret.” She put the colt back into his stall and tossed him a flake of hay. “Ginnie, can you brush Kisra?”

  “Yep.” She moved into the stall, clipped the lead rope onto the mare’s halter, and brought her into the aisle.

  Lowry brought Dalal out next to Kisra. “After we finish grooming the girls, do you want to go for a ride?”

  “Sure!”

  “Okay, we’ll take these two mares—they need some exercise.” She went into the tack room, grabbed the saddles and bridles, and placed them on the saddle racks.

  They tacked up, mounted, and started along the trail. Leo barked and Lowry turned back. He and Henry bounded after them, but Leo looked up at Lowry for permission to follow.

  With a smile, Lowry waved. “Come on, Leo, and you too, Henry.”

  It was a gorgeous day as they rode over the green pastures, with the scent of wildflowers floating on the breeze.

  “How is school going? Have you thought of a major, yet?” Lowry asked Ginnie.

  “School’s going pretty well. I’m practicing for my college entrance exams, but I’m still not sure about my major.” She shrugged. “I’m thinking maybe biology.”

  “Antarctica needs biologists. Will you come back after college?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s exciting to be a part of building a nation.”

  “How does your dad feel about your choice?”

  “He seems fine with it.”

  A bevy of quail burst out of the brush nearby and both horses shied. Henry and Leo took off, chasing the birds.

  Ginnie laughed, patting Kisra’s neck. “You’re okay, girl.”

  Tongues lolling out of their mouths, the dogs caught up to them after their hunt.

  “I don’t see any feathers, so I guess we still have to feed you tonight.” Ginnie teased.

  Lowry looked at Ginnie with a smile. She was a well-adjusted and bright young woman. Odd that, like herself, Ginnie had also lost her mother in a terrible incident.

  “Ginnie, your dad told me about your mother’s unfortunate death—such a tragedy.”

  She stared ahead vacantly and whispered, “I miss her very much.”

  Lowry said softly, “My mother passed away when I was twelve.” She reached down, straightening Dalal’s mane. “It would be her birthday tomorrow.”

  Ginnie glanced at her. “I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

  With a sigh, Lowry continued. “After the funeral, I came to live on Antarctica with my dad. It’s been years, but you never get over the heartbreak of losing a beloved parent when you’re young. It leaves a hole that can never be filled.”

  “Yes,” Ginnie murmured.

  They crossed a stream, the horses stepping carefully over the rocks. Beyond the stream, they reached a small meadow filled with flowers, and dismounted. Lowry hobbled the mares and let them graze. Lowry and Ginnie stretched out on the tender grass, gazing into a soft blue sky.

  “How did your mom die?” Ginnie asked.

  Lowry clenched her fists. It had been years ago, but the wound had never comple
tely healed. “She drowned. We were camping near a river when a flash flood swept her away. I didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye.”

  Ginnie stared at the sky. “No chance to say goodbye.” She closed her eyes and tears spilled down the side of her face. “I had a dream that my mom dropped me at school one morning—a big smile on her face and she blew me a kiss. ‘Have a good day, Baby,’ she said as the school bell rang. I ran toward the school, but then I woke up to my alarm—just a dream.”

  Lowry held her breath. It had been years since she’d cried over her mother, though from time to time, a scent or snatch of a song would prompt memories of her loss. With a small gasp, tears sprang to her eyes. “I had dreams like that, too.”

  Henry crawled onto Ginnie’s chest and licked the tears on her face. With a deep sigh, Ginnie stroked him and he snuggled into the crook of her neck.

  Lowry sat up and picked a wildflower. And then with a sad smile, handed it to Ginnie. “I think our moms would be proud of us; we’ve kept our heads up and moved forward with no regrets.”

  Leo came to Lowry and leaned on her.

  “Now Leo is trying to cheer you up.” Ginnie said. She pushed herself onto her elbow and smelled the buttercup Lowry had given her.

  “Animals know when someone needs love.” Lowry smiled. “They have amazing healing powers.” She shifted around to face Ginnie. “If you need to talk or feel lonely, I’m here.”

  Lowry stood up and unhobbled Dalal and Kisra. “It’s getting late. We’d better get back.”

  They mounted and headed back to the farm. The horses’ ears bobbed with the pace of their feet and Ginnie’s face relaxed with the rhythm.

  Lowry chewed the inside of her lip. Helen must have been a wonderful mother and wife, and she would never try to take her place. But what would Ginnie’s reaction be to a relationship between her and John? Being a friend is one thing, but someone becoming your father’s lover and possible wife was a completely different beast. Especially with a young person still mourning the loss of her mother.