A stiff wind howled out from the yawning mouth of the canyon, Fauces Rojas (Red Maw). As if Crete itself exhaled its heated breath upon the nearby region. Dust kicked up and formed dustdevils sporadically over the area. A general, but thankfully thin, layer of dust had settled over the area. But it did not yet heavily obscure vision.
The day was a scorcher and the sun felt like it had applied a heated piece of steal to the skin. Pale silvery eyes squinted up towards the canyon's mouth. Up slid gold-lense goggles. Thumb and forefinger pinched the brim of the hat. Tugging it downward. The goggles were a little cramped by the hat, but Carmen ignored it. Used to it. Finally, pulling up her bandana. Covering her mouth and nose. Satisfied by the lack of punishing light shining on her fair skin, she stepped past the boundaries of the Quintana compound.
Out into the Valle de Oro Rojo (Red Gold Valley). It would not be the ideal location to be out and about during such a period of gusty winds. Yet, Carmen did not yield to the situation.
Her eyes glanced outward towards the dry arid landscape of the valley. She knew where to go, but scanned the horizon anyway. Those swirling dust devils, rippling heat waves and those thin mirages tricked her eyes for several seconds. Until she eventually spotted what she had been looking for.
The dirt crunched under her feet. Wind howled in her ears. Dust coated her goggles. Attempting to constantly blind her. Her hand would come up periodically. Wiping the layer of dust away.
Rain came rarely, but just enough that the land didn't crack and decay. Even so, it was still dry and every step declared it. Native plant life managed a steady, but bleak existence. Scattered about and in small clumps of life here and there.
When she had been a little girl, it had always amazed her how anything survived here. As she got older, she had learned why. Adaptation.
A smile curved her lips. Adaptation. Only the strong could adapt.
Her destination lay across an open expanse of shrubby valley. There, she could spot movement. Despite it all. Good. Emanuel must be hard at work on experiment number 134.
Soon, she arrived at a location cleared of all of the shrubs and bushes and thin grasses. In evenly spaced patterns, were long straight lines of piled up dirt. With ditches right behind the dirt line. Carmen strode up to the back line and her eyes squinted. Kneeling, she placed her hand into the ditch and began scooping aside dirt. After a few scoops she saw slightly darker dirt. Her eyes widened and then she smiled.
A shadow passed over her, as several crunches of dirt sounded. A man knelt down next to her. Leaning in, so his voice could be heard over the sound of the wind.
“It is thirsty,” he declared.
“Our home is so very thirsty, Emanuel. It cries out for relief.”
He gave a somber nod. His own bandana shifted in such a way, she could tell he smiled. “It does, chica, but we will help it feel better in time.”
Carmen nodded her head to him in agreement. Then covered up the wet patch of soil with the drier pile she'd made. Giving it a soft, caring, pat.
“I swear it.”
His nod was somber again and then he pointed down at the ground.
“We make progress, but not enough. At least, it tells us what little water we get, is pooling up briefly and then being absorbed by the ground.”
Carmen peered over at him. “This is worthwhile news.” Her head then scanned over the lines of ditches. “Something in my gut is telling me this style isn't working well enough, however. I think we need to experiment with another type.”
Emanuel didn't seem so convinced. “What we need, is more water. I don't think any judgment calls can be made until we see more conclusively how the water is behaving.”
She had to concede the point. “You're right. Crete does not give us enough to work with.”
A well seasoned hand clapped her shoulder. “We'll get there.”
Her nod was firm and her hand came up to grasp his. “We will.”
"My kin! We are Corsair! We are the 'Horned Ones'! By Crete we have been made strong! There is no foe we cannot defeat! No enemy shall be spared our horns! No friend or ally shall find us wanting! For we are Corsair! By the might of the Imperio we spread out our hands! All we see will be ours one day! I have had a dream. A dream of a green Crete. A paradise! And in that dream, our enemies are not there! Crushed and mangled beneath our horns! Uplift your voices! Shout with me! Corsair! Corsair! Corsair!"
-Carmen Elena 'Silver' Quintana of Clan Quintana of the Corsair Imperio
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