"Limu? If you don't get in here now you'll miss breakfast..."
       The little Norandi opened one eye, blinking sleepily, and reluctantly pulled herself from her sleep-pouch, yawning as she stretched. Early morning sunlight shimmered on the translucent polyplex roof of the farm's family buildings. Another day, same old routine...

Fuuri was ladling out bowls of soft mixed grains in home-pressed vrintjuice, the family's standard breakfast carbohydrate course. She grinned at her daughter.
       "Sleepyhead! You know it's a busy day today."
       Limu scowled as she seated herself and reached for a bowl and a slab of bread.
       "Same as yesterday..."
       "Well, not quite." smiled her mother. "If you get through your lessons and your chores quickly, we may have a treat for you later."
       Limu rested her chin on her fist and regarded her mother gravely.
       "What sort of treat?"
       "Ahh, if I told you it wouldn't be a surprise, now, would it?"
       "Will I like it?"
       "I'm sure you will. Now, I have to go help your father. Finish your breakfast and make a start on your lessons, and we'll see you later."
       Limu sighed and nodded...

Their farm was vast, and in common with many others grew a huge variety of foodstuffs. You could wander for days and not reach the end of their land, or visit the same crop twice. Not that Limu had had time to wander, of course, not since she'd hit her first quarter-year...
       She activated her terminal and accessed the latest data transmission from the onworld research institute, half the planet away. A group of the most renowned of her people's biogeneticists had been trying for a quarter year now to develop a staple crop that could be grown on Zasqa, the vast frozen world half the galaxy away.
       She frowned at the screen. They'd failed again - the most promising strain so far devised had proved not sturdy enough to survive the screaming winds that sculpted the planet's surface ice into those wondrous shapes she'd seen imaged, that time she'd accidentally accessed a prestigious Quygman art gallery's library files. Her thoughts drifted for a moment: the originals were paintings, an incredibly ancient art-form that nevertheless was highly esteemed by most civilised sentients, and there was something about them, something almost organic. She'd almost been able to feel the texture of the paint under her fingertips...
       She shook her head and blinked rapidly. Daydreaming wouldn't get her chores done. Sighing, she bent her head to the lesson.

"Finished, petal?"
       She started, then scowled at her brother. She hated being called petal: beautiful as the speciality flowers were that they grew in their hothouses for the Llychians, the little aliens ate them as a delicacy, and she found the thought of being compared to the plants mildly offensive. Nifa laughed and ruffled her hair.
       "C'mon, bratling. Meal-break."
       She slid off the stool, stretching stiff muscles: she'd been so intent on today's lessons she hadn't noticed the time! Light 4 already - no wonder she felt hungry.
       Fuuri was lifting a huge pot out of the oven: the delicious smells of mixed vegetables and herbs filled the kitchen. The two children and Amiin, their father, dragged stools to the massive table and ate with enthusiasm. The first hunger pangs assuaged, Limu reached for the large, ever-present bowl of fruit and piled her plate with the first podberries of the season. Four of the big sweet red seeds later Amiin smiled at her.
       "Ready to help in the hothouses?"
       She sighed. "I guess..." Her eyes brightened as she gazed at her mother.
       "When can I have my treat?"
       Fuuri chuckled and glanced at her mate.
       "Light 8?"
       Amiin nodded.
       "That's when it's due."
       Fuuri smiled at her daughter.
       "Midway through light 8. If you're good."
       Limu grinned brightly and followed her father out of the dwelling.

The hothouses were three plitds away from the farm, past vast fields of the heavy-yielding golden kreeg-daaka hybrid graincrop, a small orchard of rare cahlanti, and a huge square lake whose surface was covered with the deep purple water-meelan that the shaedans loved so much. Amiin jogged most of the way with Limu on his shoulders. She'd hoped they'd ride - the family had brought in a couple of gravity-adapted Rusciin charaiids ten days ago, and so far she'd only seen them through the polyplex window in the quarantine section - but apparently the animals had some sort of intestinal parasite that had to be eradicated before they could be let loose on Norandi. Or so the offworld veterinarian said, anyway. Limu knew it would be worth the wait - the creatures were sleek and strong and beautiful, and riding them would be a joy - but she still chafed at the delay. Her mother had ruffled her hair and laughed.
       "You're so impatient, little one! I don't know where you get it from - it's certainly not from my side of the family..."
       The hothouses were warm and humid, the polyplex overhead running with condensation, mist rising from the channels that flowed into the vast low buildings from two sides and flowed out through the opposite walls to rejoin the main farm irrigation patchwork outside. The damp air was filled with the sound of the pollendrones, the pretty little bioengineered insects their farm used to pollinate the plants growing in ordered abundance, in rows, the length of the 'houses, and sweet with the heavy scent of flowers. Limu shoved her mop of black hair back from her forehead and regarded her father.
       "Is there anything special to do today?"
       "The pandles need harvesting: they're being collected later. Think you can manage?"
       She nodded, unhooking her gloves from her belt. Pandles (an integral part of the powerful immunity-boosting drug used throughout the Collective) were a deceptively innocent-looking fruit growing directly from the soil, in sloping tiers of beds along the far side of the hothouse - behind a full repulsor screen. In their unprocessed form they were highly poisonous and very prolific: only certain properly equipped farms were licensed to grow them, since if they escaped into the wild they'd not only poison all other vegetation in a very short space of time, but would mutate into an extremely virulent toxic-spore-bearing menace. Amiin took a certain quiet pride in being one of the licensed growers, and Limu had been trained in the care and harvesting of the plant since she was very young.
       Activating the personal repulsor field on her belt she pulled on the gloves (the field of necessity left her hands unprotected: a delicate touch was needed in handling the fruit) and slipped into the isolation ward, bending carefully to the task. Not the most interesting or inspiring of jobs on the farm, but possibly one of the most important...
       It took her the best part of light 5 to complete the harvesting, and at the end her back was aching horribly, for all that she was strong and fit and used to the work. Standing in the mild radiation shower that would ensure that even her repulsor field had no trace of pandles on it, she smiled tiredly at her father as he trudged his way towards her, several stasis trays full of the exquisite, brilliantly coloured flowers the Llychians liked so much in his arms. It was a fine crop, richly scented and brimming with nectar: the little aliens would enjoy their next feast.
       "All done?"
       Limu nodded, and Amiin grinned.
       "Well done. Let's head back - we can check the status of the mihoran harvest on the way."
       That meant taking a detour through one of the prettier parts of the farm: mihoran wouldn't grow unless planted with aza and in the shade of salkary trees, and the three plants together made for attractive scenery, part orchard, part garden. The mihoran had to be harvested by hand, and Amiin had no shortage of casual offworld labourers happy to trade their services. At present the farm dwelling was home to several shaedan students on Norandi for 'work experience', a quartet of Xistans working off a personal shalaht debt, and - astonishingly - a Plarith. Quite why he was here Limu hadn't been able to work out, for all that he'd been surprisingly approachable. For Plarithdi, that is. And the light and dark daily communal meals at the huge kitchen table had been a source of wonder to Limu as she'd listened wide-eyed to the talk of the others, cheerfully and appreciatively stuffing themselves with her mother's wonderful cooking (except for the Plarith: he ate hugely of what was on offer but complained regularly about the lack of meat).
       Amiin and Limu waved companionably to the harvesters, who grinned and waved back.
       "All is well?" Amiin peered into the wide shallow trugs full of the musky-scented oval fruit. Paran, the oldest of the shaedans, nodded.
       "It's a really good harvest, sir - I mean, Amiin. The fruit is excellent this year."
       The farmer nodded, satisfied.
       "You've all done well. How much longer do you estimate to finish?"
       "Give us another three units and we'll be done."
       "Good. This area is due for a thorough storm soon, to regenerate the root-systems. Please advise me when you're all clear - I don't want any of you drowned!"
       They all chuckled, the Plarith's deep voice almost painful in their ears, and Amiin and Limu headed onwards, leaving them to complete the job.

They arrived back at the start of light 7 - to find Fuuri playing host to a stranger. Limu gaped, her mouth falling open. She'd heard of the Dothnachdini, of course, but this was the first time she'd met one...
       He was so tall! Half again as tall as her father, and so thin you'd have thought his legs would snap sooner than hold him up - though in fact the faintest shimmery outline showed that he was using the utilimech on his belt to keep the gravity around his body to his norm. And he was completely black, except for his eyes. And his hair was long, and plaited into so very many braids, all twisted through with beads and little bits of metal that clinked like chimes when he moved his head. At Fuuri's welcoming smile to her family he looked over his shoulder, then turned and bowed his head briefly.
       "Haiyai, e-sheya!" He grinned, startling Limu as doubled rows of extremely sharp white teeth flashed in the light. She smiled shyly back, trying hard not to stare into his vibrant orange eyes, their double pupils almost blue against the intense blackness of his skin.
       "Krivin arrived a little early." Fuuri smiled, beckoning Limu forward and lifting her to sit on a stool.
       "Sorry about that." the Dothnachdin said, winking at the little Norandi. "Business on Rusc took less time than we'd anticipated. Is it a problem?"
       Amiin shook his head.
       "Not at all. Though the pandles aren't quite processed ready for collection yet."
       The Dothnachdin shrugged thin shoulders. "No problem. That just gives me a little more time to show this little one" he gestured to Limu, whose startled eyes flickered to her smiling mother in alarm, "around the farm..."

She'd really thought she'd kept her secret wish from her parents. After all, the Norandi just didn't use air transport: pollution considerations aside, they were a very traditional people. The huge mechanised harvesters that roamed the world gathering in the bulk crops used solar power, and were quiet, and slow enough to let the few native animals escape ahead of them. The smaller and more delicate plants were harvested by hand. Land transport was by charaiid or one of the other harmless hardy offworld breeds - and only two at most to a farm.
       But Krivin was offering to take her up in the personal shuttle in which he'd dropped from the Collective 'skimmer in orbit around Norandi. Take her flying. Let her see what her world looked like from above. Fulfil her dearest wish.
       She bit her lip to force back tears. Her mother smiled at her gently.
       "Is it a good treat, little one?"
       Wordlessly she hugged her mother hard.

Limu stared down, unwilling to blink in case she missed something. The Dothnachdin had taken off slowly, skimming low to start with, soaring silently over the vibrant patchwork of huge fields below. Then he'd pulled the little craft up into the sky, up until Limu couldn't even make out the farm buildings complex any more, until the ground became a hazy quilt of gold and blue and infinite shades of green, and the moons shimmered like vast life-giving raindrops in the deep blue above...
       She'd pressed her face to the viewport, unwilling for him to see her cry with the wonder of it. But he knew anyway, and touched her shoulder gently.
       "It is beautiful, isn't it?" His deep voice was very soft, and she turned to him, huge-eyed, tears glinting on her cheeks.
       "It's..." Overwhelmed, she couldn't find the words, instead grabbing him around the waist and hugging tightly. He winced, but managed to hide it, thankful he'd kept the gravity in the control core close to his own world's: she did no lasting damage.
       He hugged her back, one thin arm around her sturdy shoulders: she barely felt it.
       "Shall we go a little higher?"
       She nodded speechlessly, her eyes gleaming, and he took the shuttle up to the edge of the atmosphere, smiling as she stared, open mouthed, at the thin blaze of stars above and around her. With five moons and a heavily-blanketing atmosphere Norandi on the ground could only ever see the very brightest of stars - and the world was on the periphery: there wasn't that much to see, even from up here.
       But Limu fell in love with it anyway.

"I hope she was good." Fuuri smiled at her silent, wide-eyed daughter. Krivin grinned.
       "Perfectly behaved. I'd take her flying any time!"
       ...But will it ever be possible again?...
       Squashing the thought, Limu beamed up at the tall being.
       "Thank you. It was... wonderful."
       He took her hand, bowing his head.
       "You're welcome, young one. Thank you for the pleasure of your company."

Light 9. Nearing dark day. She was tired. It had been a long light day, and the sheer thrill of the flight had left her feeling drained. She ate late meal quickly and asked if she might be excused: Fuuri had smiled indulgently and nodded.
       "Pleasant dreams, daughter."
       She hugged thanks and made her way to her sleep pouch - but not to sleep. She gazed up through the polyplex at the hazy-light sky above, seeing those bright, hidden stars in her mind, determination building.
       How was she to get offworld? Well, the Collective were always looking for biogeneticists, and she'd already shown talent in that direction. If she really worked hard, really pushed herself, she might be able to get into the institute...
       Might? There was no might about it! She would get there if it killed her. Then... then... the galaxy would be hers.
       She smiled. Well, perhaps not quite. But she'd have so many opportunities, so much more would be open to her. Settling deeper into the pouch, resolved to work as hard as necessary, she closed her eyes, a new and exciting future beckoning hazily.

And in the meantime - it really would make all their lives easier if they invested in some air transport craft...