Chapter Text
According to the stained form on her bed stand, barn McAban from Sector Five had produced 248,581,611 metric tons of corn in the sixty day growing period allotted each season. Their neighbor, barn McCabe, had produced 159,914,253 metric tons. And their neighbor, barn Mccauley, produced 296,958,520 metric tons. She then added them (705,454,384). Then she added the next barn (barn McCormack, 238,422,534 metric tons, 943,876,918). And the next (barn McDougall, 132,265,071 metric tons, 1,076,141,989). and then the next (barn McGrady, 231,283,407 metric tons, 1,307,425,396). Over and over until she had gotten all ten barns of the sector, adding as she went (2,235,939,799). Then, she found the average, subtracted it from the total to plant the next season, and repeated the process for the rest of the ten sectors. It was enough to make a lesser man go mad.
Nellie of McGraw, in her madness, kept the numbers in her head. Constantly adding, subtracting, taking one number, storing another as the digits became almost nothing. Day in day out she did this, double checking, triple checking, keeping the weight in mind so she could spread it evenly between the ten “rust buckets” her Blues had for this purpose and this purpose alone. That was her life, most of it at least; the other little parts being playing nice with old men so they don't have her hang, keep the rest of the galaxy from finding out about her and her coup, and keeping the planet from exploding in on itself. So far it had been successful for twelve seasons, which is twelve more than she really expected all things considered.
She yawned, a whining, petty sound that went well with the different cracks and pops of her back as she stretched. Standing up, her angry red curtain of hair falling in her face in all its tangling, curling glory. A soft smile came to her face; her Ma hated her hair. It was a lot brighter than her sisters and barn mates, a shitty orange to their blood hiding red, not to mention it ate combs like a monster.
Once her Ma had decided to cut it out right, shaving her poor head, leaving her humiliated for a week. Then, much to the entire barn McGraw's horror, she used her new found short hair to her advantage. Using it to blend in and join the young boys in the fields for months. When she had eventually been figured out, she already had a nasty case of Farmer's Foot, and Ma had given up on the whole thing.
With the satisfaction of knowing she was the worst child her Ma had ever had to deal with, she left her beloved comforter. Getting her indoor boots on, picking out an oversized sweater to wear as a dress, she went to start the day. The metric total rolling around in her head like a marble.
With the sun far past the dawn she left her room, running through the halls, bobbing and weaving past the well dressed Reds and Pinks that always acted like the world was on fire. Getting to her kitchen, she grabbed the wooden step stool, Bringing it to the fridge, and using it to reach the freezer. Finding the shot glass, with the tiny frozen food package inside. Leaving the kitchen, she dragged the stepstool along behind her in one hand, with the cup in the other.
She could absolutely use some coffee, she acknowledged, among the sevens and eights, trudging once again through the halls in this shitty maze that had become her home. She hated the taste of it, but it didn't stop her from craving the shit juice.
Eventually, she got to the living room, staring up at the strange tank of sand and water the Gold-licker who lived here before her had owned. Personally she didn't know why the bastard had the thing, the fish inside were too small to eat. But it was the only thing the staff had asked of her, and they seemed to enjoy looking at it when they got the chance.
Climbing up the step stool yet again, she dips the cup in the water, swishing it around to break up the tiny kelp brick, and pouring the water back into the tank. Letting the fish eat as she watched them for mild entertainment. She still wanted coffee, and by the Vale she knew she couldn’t make any there. She didn't even know if there was a coffee pot in her Pit forsaken kitchen, and the idea of asking the staff for a cup was a bad one. Asking them for anything was a bad one, not that she blamed them any. Disappointed, she set the cup down with more force than she really needed. Hopping off the stool and storming back to her room with the memory of it on her tongue.
She had things to do, or at least, she thinks she did. The growing season had just ended, and that left her about ten days to figure out the numbers, make sure everything was in order. She really only needed one, but double checking the ships and running the numbers again was always a good idea. That is, if she hadn't given them the go ahead already, which was an absolute possibility. It didn't matter, not really. She wasn't dumb enough to think that her planet mattered any, it was a tiny speck in the middle of the universe who had a single job. Grow corn, for synthetic sugar or whatever fake food they need. There were hundreds of planets like hers, that's the only reason she was still alive. No one cared.
Despite that, she still had the planet functioning. No one would care but, there was a chance someone might notice the lack. 20 billion tons of anything wasn't something to sneeze at. Most likely case scenario is they'll brush it off as a bad growing year. Still, she kept at it, if only because what else was she going to do? They sent the supplies, what else were they going to do. Not mentioning that half the plowmen she knew were the most stubborn sons of bitches she'd ever seen when it came to change; they'd rather shoot themselves in the foot then stop growing corn. she was still planning some things anyway, because of course she was. But that's another story.
Suddenly she stopped, turning to her stacks of papers. Running through them again, and once more just to be sure. She was missing one. Sector One of all places. Frantically, she looked under her bed, not finding it but the cotton blanket she hid under there.
She frowned, pulling her hand away from the wretched thing like it would bite her. She hated the feeling of it, it filled her head with radio fuzz and made her teeth ache. Why anyone would have something so horrible in their home was beyond her. But then again, in what universe was she ever supposed to understand a Gold.
Changing directions, she looked under her bedside table. Then her desk and the massive piles of paper her project demanded. She counted the papers again to be sure. Still nothing, Sector One eluded her. With one last hope, she removed her massive comforter, finding nothing under it to her despair. She cursed, grabbing the other nine forms as she once again left the comfort of her room.
Once again she found herself navigating the labyrinth that was her house, and once again she got lost. The hours turned into days, she considered writing a will and testament, but couldn't find a writing utensil in any of the rooms she checked. When she had lost all hope, and the little hope she didn't know she had, she found the front door, falling to her knees dramatically at the sight.
“Finally,” she mumbled to herself, only for a few of the staff, getting up, and brushing off the dirt from her knees. She hated her house. So, being more than happy to get out of it, she put on her outdoor boots over her indoor boots, and opened the door, pausing momentarily at the sight of the planet's main star. Glinting against the dome like thing around the massive property. Twelve seasons or no, she'll never get over the fact that it exists. That something could possibly be so bright.
Slowly she shook her head, forcing herself to look away, to close the door behind her. Luckily for her, Sector One was the closest out of all of them, and if she really wanted to she could walk there without going under the planet's surface. The thought was intriguing, and checking the recently grown grass on the planet's surface would be fantastic. Doing so, however, meant going to one of the cities, the capital in particular, which exposed her to quite a lot more Greys than she really wanted. The thought twisted at her stomach, and she quickly decided that it wasn't worth it, making her way to the elevator instead. Yes the tunnels were cramped and dark, but at least in the tunnels she didn't have to worry about a gun ending up in her face. maybe.
With that decided, she made her way to the edge of her yard, revealing the ramshackle elevator she had made. It was flimy, dangerous, and if anything on this planet were to kill her it'd be that. All the same she stepped on it, pulling the lever and praying to the Oranges that built it that she may live another day. She liked the Oranges of her planet, the ones of McGraw were particularly cool, but as the mechanisms creaked, she doubted them.
The descent began, and she closed her eyes, letting numbers take the forefront of her mind. Sector Six, starting with McCann, 180,316,638 cubic tons, and whoever decided that the barns had to start with Mc should hang, and then promptly hang again. Then was McClain, 234,933,952 cubic tons, 415,250,590. McConnell, 145,542,954 cubic tons, 560,793,544. McCord, 190,987,573 cubic tons, 751,581,117. McFall, 139,999,459 cubic tons, 891,780,576. McFarland, McGinty, McIntyre, 211,927,433, 198,531,860, 232,450,470 cubic tons each, 1,534,690,339. McKinnon, with 136401342 cubic tons, 1,671,091,681. That left McNair, with 160496921 cubic tons, the total being 1831588602. With a sigh, she factored the rainy day fund, bringing it to about 1.6 billion.
The elevator rattled, slow as ever. She took a moment to breathe and then another, feeling the crate rattle. She trusted them, she had to. She was already in the box. Sector Seven started with barn McCarty, 113,329,634 cubic tons, who recently had a problem with one of their harvesting machines. At least Nellie thinks so, the barns tended to blur together. McClellan, McCracken, McGregor, McKeown, who even named these Pit forsaken things, 161166618, 296798793, 178043862, 278127944, 1027466851 total. McKinley, McLain, McSacar, McSturdy, 233006553, 164899614, 225383266, 109094023 (no it was McSturdy with the broken sorter. McCarty just had a shitty grow, it happens.) that left McWilliams, 225550915 cubic tons, 1985401222 in all. Factoring in the rainy day, 1.7 billion. Not too bad all things considered.
Then came Sector Eight, which was a bit of a special case. Technically using the corn they grew was illegal, and the production of alcohol was super duper illegal. Sector eight, however, didn’t give a fuck, so they ended up making the best damn moonshine this side of the cosmos. Technically illegal, but honestly everyone knew about it and Nellie wasn't about to end a good thing cause of such a stupid rule. So she did the math, as she does, added everything together, and instead of giving them one grow pile, she gave them two. Writing it off as a rainy day security. Not that she really needed too, but still.
She could use some shine right now. And coffee. Mostly coffee.
At last, she made it to the bottom, revealing the former mining tunnels that lead her home. Bright lights were built into the stone walls, and she's never been happier to see them in her life. happily running along after them, to where the tunnels merged; and just like that she wasn't alone. Packs of Mcflys meandered the halls, and it was easy as stepping in time with one to join it.
“Howdy,” she greeted, as they walked. They greeted her the same. It was only polite. “Mind leadin’ me to the barn any?”
“Not at all,” one of them said, a particularly weedy looking woman with some grey in her hair. Nellie grinned, bowing her head a little.
“Thank ya kindly.” she said, then shut her mouth so they could continue their conversation. It was mindless gossip, apparently a girl from McGowan fancied someone or other, and a sister of hers wasn't happy about it. Personally she didn't see what the big deal was, but they seemed invested. Arguing half the trip which sister was better, then devolving about how the Plowman McFly had some meeting, and then whether or not he was screwing that Grey he was so fond of. (he was, having admitted it to Nellie in private. Not that she said anything about it.)
They got to the barn, and seeing her chance Nellie parted from the group, going to the barn’s massive kitchen; waiting politely in line for a cup of coffee. Zoning out once again as she worked on Sector Nine. By now she had gotten them all done, but it was always nice to double check. Just so no one would feel the need to investigate. Plus, she always felt better when she had something to look back on. Which is why she really should get that form soon. She worked, chewing on one number before taking another, and another, ignoring the sound of stomping boots as she got closer and closer to her glorious cup of much needed coffee.
195974286 + 271409325 + 258770481 =
“McGraw!” the plowman McFly yelled, walking in and spooking her. She jumped, knocking into the man in front of her, causing him to spill his coffee a bit. She sent him an apologetic look, but he was more focused on the pissed off man in charge of the barn, and the towering Grey behind him. The Plowman McFly was on the younger side, and admittedly one of the more tolerable of the bunch but that didn't mean he wasn't intimidating when he wanted to be.
Without another word, he grabbed her arm, being careful not to hurt her, and dragged her into the hall, barely giving her enough time to grab the man’s mug of half spilt coffee. There the Plowman loomed, festering in his anger. The Grey stood behind him, only there to present a united front. “Where the hell have you been?!”
She looked between the two men. Obviously she was at “home”, the only reason she lived there was to make her easier to find (that, and an old dumb law, but mostly the first thing). She watched the Grey try desperately not to show his amusement, only cracking a little when she asked. “Is that a trick question or?”
“Fuckin’- Nellie!” Mcfly groaned, causing her to scowl.
“Lay off! I've been working on stuff. It's been a lot.” she said, glaring up at the two men, cursing the fact that McGraws tended to come out small for the millionth time. With a little sigh, she conceded, taking a glorious sip of coffee. “What day is it any how?”
“You don't know?” Mcfly said, as his partner started laughing, much to his chagrin. “Nellie the season starts tomorrow!”
“Liar.” she gasped, “Already?”
“Nellie!” he almost whined. The Grey was still cackling behind him.
“Again! Working on somethin’! ‘m busy!” she hissed. “Shit. How bad is it? Have the ships left yet? And McSturdy needed a new sorter right? Is that handled?”
“You’re askin’ me-?” he started, before dropping it with a sigh “Yes Nellie, they left yesterday like you told them to. McSturdys all set, We’re going to start just fine. Which ya would have known if you'd actually pick up a damn phone.”
“Hey!” she objected, trying not to remember the last time she had picked up the phone.
“Regardless, we’ve got bigger problems right now.” he looked around, ensuring that no one was around to hear it. “Somethin’ landed on the planet.”
“What?” she said, blinking like an owl “Are the cities alright?”
“Yeah, they're fine, everythin’ seems accounted for, but it scared Sector Seven halfway to the Mudpit” he said, as the Grey handed her a data pad. She watched something enter the atmosphere, as the strange scribbles that seemed to follow her everywhere blocked half the screen. She handed it back to him, pretending to know what that was for.
“And no one told me about this because?” she asked them, and she could see McFly's face turn red
“We couldn’t fuckin’ find ya, brainless!” he snapped, causing her to raise her hands in surrender. “Now come on! There's a meetin’ in the capital ‘n we’re late enough as it is.”
“Fine! Fine. ‘m goin’, ‘m goin’. No need to yell at me.” she grumbled with a pout, grabbing her cup and making her way to the door.
“No ya don’t! Those cups don't leave this house n’ you know that!” McFly reprimanded, and she scowled at him.
“You ain't my pa!” she hisses. All the same she took one big chug of what's left and put the mug on the floor for someone to find later. Then she leaves, the two men following in tow.
It didn't take all that long to get back to the surface, the capital city took a bit longer. Admittedly the fight she had with McFly whether or not the old bastard could play poker (he can’t) did help speed things along. The capital city normally scared her a bit, but today it seemed almost empty. Only the occasional Grey running somewhere or other. She counted twenty of them in all, forty guns and twenty batons, she hated to think about it. More so about how possible it would be to steal the baton from McFly’s Grey. She knew they cared about each other, you’d have to be blind not to see the way they look at eachother, but how far did that go?
“Nellie.” He mentioned gently, tapping her on the shoulder once again causing her to flinch. She turned to him quickly, and she hated the concern on his face. Hating even more that the Grey seemed to take a few steps back. “You’re twitchin’ again.”
“Am not.” she defended, batting him away and pointedly not looking at the Grey. “’m just tired, I’ve been runnin’ around all day.”
She gave him a little look, causing him to drop it. “Whatever ya say. Now when you gonna make shine legal?”
“Oh by the Vale, this again? ‘M tryin my best!” she pouted, and nudged him with her shoulder. He shoved her back, and she laughed. The town hall coming into view, she saw her little pack of friends by the door. They waved the second they saw her and she smiled, looking over to McFly. “Go on ahead, yeah?”
He nodded, and moved past her, and she made her way over to them, sticking her tongue out in greeting. She gained a few sarcastic side curtsy in return, and she resisted a snort, standing next to Rebecca and leaning against the wall.
“So, were you going to tell me that the season starts tomorrow? Or was I supposed to find out about that when it ended” she asked, sending her a half hearted glare. Rebecca just smirked, taking a drag of her smoker and rolling her eyes.
“In my defense, I did send Sadie to go check on ya.” she said, Sadie shooting them a dirty look
“I did! I couldn't find her anywhere that ain't my fault.”
“Did ya check my room?” Nellie asked, and she scratched the back of her neck.
“Yeah…” she said in a tone that absolutely made Nellie believe her. She cackled, before letting her good mood fade.
“How bad is it in there?” she asked them, getting sheepish looks from the lot of them.
“Ain't gonna sugar coat it, it's pretty bad” Rebecca warned, much to Nellie's dismay. “Ya might wanna get in there.”
“Yeah, probably.” she sighed, looking at the bright green door.
Sucking it up, and getting her best poker face, she waved her girls goodbye and walked inside. Seeing as all the high Colors were gone, the Hall was little more than a glorified casino, not that anyone cared. The head Plowmen of each sector were there, sitting around the massive table. Half of them were drunk, jars of shine still in hands, the other half seemed to wish they were.
She cleared her throat, and all heads turned to her. Some men dipped their heads to acknowledge her existence, others whispered to their companions. The plowman McGraw was missing, (not much of a surprise) and before she could say anything the Plowman McGregor stood, a little girl, clinging to his leg for dear life.
“McGraw! Thank the Vale you're here. It's worse than we thought.”
“What, did we lose tunnels?” she asked, frowning.
“Worse. We’ve got one of ‘em goldilocks out there.” he admitted, causing everyone in the room to burst into panicked chatting and whispering, one that made her head ache. “The kid saw it with her own two eyes.” he swore to her, challenging the lot of them. They only got louder, soft words of doubt and panic. It was quickly becoming too much for her.
“Quiet!” she shouted at them, turning to the girl, as she clung to her Plowman even tighter. “Tell me.”
“It was massive.” she croaked, like mentioning him any louder would cause him to appear. “Me, a-and Daniel were just goin’ to see what the sound was, we knew we weren’t supposed to go upstairs, but we were in the city and we wanted to go play, n’ then- then we see this ship. N’ there-there was a guy there, workin’ on it. It was big, n’ tall, n’ it’s hair- it was like Ron-”
“Ey! We don't say that name, Milly.” her Plowman corrected, “You know that.”
“But it was!” she defended right back. “It was yellow n’ curly, n’ really really tall! It was one of ‘em!”
Nellie pinches the bridge of her nose; she had hoped to never see one of those bastarding gold-lickers again. Before she was able to respond, McKoy scoffed loudly, gaining the attention of everyone in the room.
“Oh please, you called all of us here for the stories of some bloodydamn kid?” he sneered, leaning against a wall. “it's clearly a joke, n’ a pisspoor fuckin’ joke at that. Ain’t been a Gold round here in years, n’ yall know it.”
“Does she look like she’s fucking jokin’.” her plowman shot back, his daughter pale and shaken. Mckoy took a step towards him, smaller than the man but plenty intimidating if you didn't know any better.
“Watch your tone, son. Your speakin to a plowman, bloodydamn it.” he growled, and McGee stepped between them, getting up in McKoy’s face.
“Really?” McFly snorted. “After your harvest, you still call yourself that?”
“You wanna go, fly boy?” he turned, snarling like a dog. Nellie was quickly utterly done with all of this.
“That's enough! I didn't come here to watch a dick measurin’ contest, thank y’all very much. Mckoy, I know you're scared, but that doesn't mean you need to take it out on the rest of us. McFly, low blow. You’re better than that.” she hissed, at them both, doing everything in her power to copy her Ma’s mannerisms. Cowed, the boys separated, and the hall was silent. She couldn't help her relief. “Now we've gotta figure this shit out. McGregor, get the kid to her ma. First things first. Then get some of ya Plowmen and some Oranges. Go check on the tunnels integrity, the last thing in the world we need right now is a fuckin cave in.”
“Yes ma’am” he nodded, picking the child up.
“Good, go. Both of you.” she demanded with a little jerk of her head. Watching him scurry out of the building. “Now for the rest of yall, tell the other plowman. Hopefully this’ll pass, so we shouldn't panic yet, but they deserve to know. Imma go check it out.”
“You sure about that, kid?” McFly asked, sharing uncertain looks with his fellow plowmen.
“You don't have to if you don't want.” McKoy chimed in, rubbing the back of his neck “We could go with ya.”
“Nah, I've got this. Just to check it out” she assured, despite it being less than convincing, at least to her. She turns to McGee “It's a little south of here, ain’t it?”
“Well yeah, but what if there really is a goldilocks,-” McGee starts, before McKoy interrupts him.
“There isn't.”
“If” McGee reinstates, “there really is a goldilocks, are you sure you'll be alright on your own?”
“Of course. If it exists and if it causes a problem, well Ma didn't raise no bitch.” Nellie nods, shrugging, trying her damnedest to pretend like she wasn't terrified. “I've killed a Gold before and bloodydamn it all I'll do it again. Any questions?”
She looked around the room. No one spoke, no one dared. She had made a pretty good point, and if they were being honest, pissing off Nellie anymore then she already was, was never a good idea. “Thought so. I'm borrowing a cart.”
And with that, she turned tail, and left. Slamming the door behind her.