The Waiting Wolf

Haruto Yoshida was a patient man.  One could not endure as a Gardener in the United Colonial Effort without great patience. Many of his peers did not understand this. They thought his methods slow. They thought his pace old, perhaps feeble. Yet, Haruto’s gardens bloomed brighter than any others in the Wolf 359 system, while other Gardener’s – younger, more vigorous, so full of urgent energy – had their crops wither or burn, had entire harvests poisoned by blight or devoured by pests. Not so for Haruto.

Every morning, he walked the same route. It was a flow of life as important as any soil cycles, light distribution, or irrigation system. Each sector visited in careful ascending order. It would often take the entire day for Haruto to walk the full circuit of Auxo IX Plantation. Haruto did not mind.

He enjoyed beginning his day with Sector One. He liked that the sight of Abigail would be the first to greet his eyes. Perhaps it was her advancing years – although still many years younger than Haruto – that gave her the self-knowledge to love this work as much as he. It did not take long for Haruto to reach his first stop, and he stepped into the elevator to get to the highest floor.

When many people thought of farms – or gardens, as he preferred – they thought of wide-open fields from ancient earth. Better to think of the multi-story parking lots, Haruto felt. The elevator he travelled in now was made of what many still called glass, and he passed several levels of soil boasting vast forests of roots. The strata above these were streets of verdant green, misted with rain and rivered with light. Nearly all of Auxo IX was built with transparent walls. An enormous greenhouse to grow interstellar crops. A prison of prisms, he had heard one person call it. Haruto preferred to call it beauty.

Unlike the ancient greenhouse, however, the glass of Auxo IX was built to refract the heat, not amplify it. Caught in waves and filtered to trickles, the star of Wolf 359 was too fierce a beast to be given any sharper teeth. Haruto’s task was to guide this sunlight where it was needed most.

Abigail was in her control room in the centre of Sector One. An early-riser like Haruto, she was already halfway through her daily checks. She smiled at him warmly, but did not stop what she was doing. It gave him time to admire the many plants she kept strong and vibrant within this room. Someone once asked him what it was he was searching for, when he so closely inspected a plant. Haruto laughed as if he were told a joke. Didn’t they realize? He had already found it.

“Good morning, Chief Yoshida,” Abigail finally said, when she was ready.

“Good morning, Abigail. And please, call me Haruto.”

“Whatever you say, Chief.” Abigail moved past him, at a solid pace, moving on to her next task.

“How is your garden this morning?” he asked. He asked the same question every morning, but there was always a different answer. All you needed were ears to hear it.

“Thirsty,” Abigail told him, throwing him a slight look. “Had Sector Three siphoning water again. That man not know how to ration?”

Haruto nodded his head. “Bryce is learning. Give him time.”

“I’ll give him something else if he comes leeching my water again. And it sure as stars won’t be my time.”

Haruto laughed gently with Abigail. Despite her tough exterior, she was a kind soul.

“I will go to him next then, and give him some of mine.”

“And skip Sector Two?” Abigail whistled. “Matheo won’t know if it’s night or day, Chief, if his clock doesn’t show.”

Again, Haruto chuckled. He understood that Matheo of Sector Two called Haruto “Clocks” since his patrols were so consistent, so patient. But Abigail was also right. Bryce of Sector Three needed to be guided.

So, satisfied with Sector One, Haruto bid farewell and altered his course towards Sector Three. A small pruning to his usual branch, to encourage new buds to grow, stronger, more resilient. The journey took some time, but Haruto gave it freely. While he waited to reach his destination, he thought about Byrce and the man’s own journey for peace. Still a young man, Bryce had been a corporal in his younger days, for an PMC which was often linked with dishonourable deeds. Anyone could know these days still haunted the man. All they needed were eyes to see it.

When Haruto arrived at the Sector Three centre, Gardener Bryce snapped to attention and gave him a salute.

“Chief Yoshida, sir, I wasn’t expecting you so early.”

“Good morning, Bryce. And please, call me Haruto.”

“Yes, sir. I am ready to report, sir.”

“It is not a report, Bryce, it is a question. And a question should have many answers.” Haruto lifted his eyebrows. “So? How is your garden this morning?”

“The plantation fields, um, I mean, the garden, sir, is operational. We had a malfunction last night with one of the reservoirs – water, not light – so I had to redeploy to compensate. But the crops, or, um, the plants … I’m sorry, sir, which term do you prefer?” Haruto did not answer that question, he simply waited for Bryce to continue. “Well, yes, so anyway, I was worried the diverted supply would leave our other areas exposed, so I requested backup from Sectors One, Five, and Six. Everything is as it should be now, sir. And as soon as we’re running at optimal levels, I can start paying back the other Sectors.”

“You did what you thought you must, but tell me, how long have we been growing food for the systems, here, in this garden?”

This was a fact that Bryce knew, so he stood up straighter and recited it correctly.

“Yes,” Haruto agreed, “since 2263. And tell me, in the sixty years we and the UCE have been doing this, has our garden grown stronger? Or weaker.”

“Stronger, sir.”

“Yes. So please, next time there is an emergency, have trust, and have patience. The roots in this garden are strong, Bryce. Just like the ones in you. And strong roots can weather many difficulties and still flourish.” Haruto laid a calming hand on the man. “Most of the time, the only thing you need to give them, is time.”