Neron Skies

The vendor looks at me with a suspicious side-eye. His gaze shifts back to the group behind me. They stand there, looking wind-blown and sun-dried. Our skin is caked with dirt and sand, our lips are cracked and peeling.

We’re a mess.

“We’re not from around here,” I state, looking the ugly man straight in the eye. “Which is obviously why we need these.”

He looks at me again, but grunts the total. I extend my wrist, paying the credits.

“Thank you,” I say through clenched teeth as I take the clothing from the counter, giving him an annoyed look. I turn, distributing the items to everyone in our runaway group.

Zayne, Reena, my father, and I slip the hooded robes over our heads and step back out into the street.

Apparently, Stippe is nice on the other side of the planet. But the Frank our ship came with didn’t take landscape into consideration when he landed us on this planet. He detected commerce and civilization and touched down on the side closest to our descent.

This side of the planet is non-stop wind, high temperatures, and lots and lots of sand.

We landed a kilometer outside of the town to not draw too much attention. The Corsair is beautiful. A ship like it draws questions.

We left the Frank to guard it.

So, we had to make the walk through the wind and pounding sand to reach the town and this rudimentary market.

I slip the hood over my head, grateful for it. It’s thin fabric, but it’s stiff, so it holds its form and has a sheer net that cascades down in front of my face so I can see. It drapes down past my neck, covering much of my chest.

Guarded against the elements now, we head down the street.

I’m trying not to have an anxiety attack. I feel so exposed. My entire life, all I’ve ever known are towering skyscrapers. I’ve never been able to see farther than twenty feet, until the next towering building.

But here, it’s rolling hills of sand and wide, tan skies for as far as I can see.

It’s overwhelming and incredible at the same time.

“I vote we get some food first,” Zayne pipes up. “After nine days of rationed Korpillion food, I think I’m ready to see the offerings of the southern desert pole of Stippe.”

I nod in agreement. No one complains as we follow our noses down the lane and find a shop advertising the best food in town.

We push open the tent flaps and step inside. The floor is sand, drug inside from the street. The dust is thick in the air, but it smells like spices and some kind of protein, and it makes my mouth water.

We order whatever the cook wants to bring us and tuck ourselves into a table at the far back of the tent.

“Think anywhere on this planet has a shower?” Zayne asks, running his hands through his sandy hair.

I understand what he means. Our ship has a good supply of water, but it also has the latest technology in recycling every drop, from the moisture in our breath, to the run off from the showers, to the urine our bodies produce.

It’s hard to feel clean, knowing where the water came from, even if it has been filtered and cleaned.

“You’ve just been showered for nearly an hour with sand,” I say, looking toward the kitchen as my stomach growls. “I think we’re entirely new desert creatures now. Who needs water?”

He and my father chuckle, but Reena doesn’t even crack a smile. She might be on the run with us, but she still doesn’t like me.

The food is brought to our table, and my stomach gives a ravenous growl.

It smells real. It smells organic. It smells fresh.

I shove the first bite into my mouth and nearly moan at the explosion of flavor. It’s some kind of meat, real, from an animal, I’d guess. It’s doused in spices. There’s some sort of root vegetable, and I just know it was grown in the ground. There’s another vegetable, something juicy and a little sweet and savory.

“Is this what real food tastes like?” Zayne demands in surprise. His eyes are wide, and he keeps his mouth open just slightly, because the food is piping hot and burning my mouth, too. “What the void have we been eating on Korpillion?”

“Processed, engineered, soot-tainted garbage.” Reena says the words without thinking as she, too, lays into the meal on her plate.

My father doesn’t even say anything. He lets his eyes slide closed as he slowly chews, obviously enjoying every single bite.

“We’re supplying from here,” Zayne says, pointing at the kitchen. “None of that pre-packed stuff. We’re having them space freeze a whole solar’s worth of meals to get us all the way to the G sector.”

I laugh, shaking my head at his enthusiasm, because it’s obviously not going to happen, but I feel the same way.

Stippe might be a desert wasteland outside this tent, who knew there would be such amazing food inside? What other kinds of food might we discover on other planets if the food here tastes this good to a few refugees from Korpillion?

“I think we should stay on-planet for the night,” I say, swallowing another steaming hot bite. “We need to take our time and make sure we get all the supplies we need so we don’t have to stop for a while. I’m sure we can find a place to stay in town. If not, we’ll go back and sleep on the ship.”

“Slam the G sector,” Zayne says around a huge mouth full of food. “I vote we just spend the rest of our lives eating food from every Dominion-free planet in the galaxy.”

“Typical man,” Reena says as she pops another bite into her mouth. “So easily ruled by his stomach.”

“Does your mouth not feel alive for the very first time, ever?” he counters, looking at her with wide eyes.

It actually happens. Reena cracks a small smile. But she doesn’t say anything, just looks back at her food and takes another bite.

I talk to the cook. I ask him how many meals he can get space-frozen for us by tomorrow evening. He says he can pre-cook four weeks’ worth of meals for the four of us. But only if I pre-pay for them now.