by Dana Kelly
Graceful and sinuous in appearance, pure white fur covered the beast. Long, pointy ears protruded from its distinctly canine head, and the creature glowed just a bit brighter than the overhead lights. Its snout twitched is it inhaled deeply, and it regarded Orin warily. Quietly, it growled.
“Lantern skink,” whispered Xylander. “Biggest one I ever saw.”
“I thought skinks were reptiles,” hissed Orin. “This thing looks more like a giant fox!”
Malmoradan appeared behind Orin, claws out. “Xylander, you okay?”
“Just fine,” said Xylander. “You can put those away, both of you. She’s just trying to get warm. Didn’t realize the door was ajar, but she did.”
Slowly, Malmoradan’s claws receded, and Orin released his tiny maelstrom, causing ice to shatter in the floor. Shona made her way up the stairs, and the beast’s eyes widened as she met Shona’s gaze. The animal breathed rapidly, and her growl turned into a nervous purr. “She’s beautiful,” said Shona. “Hey there. What’s your name?” She crouched, and she carefully extended her hand.
Xylander nervously shook his head. “Don’t. Don’t do that.”
“Shh,” said Shona. The creature nudged Shona’s hand with her snout. “There you go. We’re gonna be just fine, aren’t we?” The purring grew louder, and the beast relaxed. Keeping her eyes on Shona, she rested her head in Shona’s lap. Shona scratched behind the creature’s ears, and the animal slowly closed her eyes.
“Ain’t that a jawker’s secret,” whispered Xylander, and he retrieved a very old phone. He tapped on his camera, but as soon as he started recording, the lantern skink recoiled. Her purr fell silent, and she padded back toward the door. In a flash, she bolted out into the blizzard, vanishing completely from sight.
“How’d you do that?” asked Xylander.
“I’ve always been good with animals,” said Shona, and she nodded at his phone. “Ask for permission next time, same as you would a person. I don’t know why, but it works.”
He pocketed his device. “What just happened between you two, that was special. Very special. The kind of special that the skyman needs to hear about. I hope you’ll consider doing a little scealing when you get back, because I’d wager the skyman would love to work it all into our story.”
“I was starting to think scealing was storytelling,” said Shona. “Now I’m totally lost.”
“No, Shona, I think you’re right,” said Orin. “I think ‘story’ is their word for history—an oral tradition I bet, and the skyman is the keeper of it.”
“Look at you, getting all ridgy,” said Xylander. “Careful you don’t fall for this life.”
“Hey, you never know,” said Orin.
“We should get back,” said Malmoradan.
“Right you are,” said Xylander, and he turned off the space heater.
He led Orin, Shona, and Malmoradan back out into the blizzard.
◆◆◆
Hector’s office doors clattered as Shona pushed them open. She set down the body bag, and they all dropped clumps of snow on the floor as they shed their cold weather attire. “Is there any coffee left?” she asked. She shivered, and she rubbed her hands together.
“I just finished brewing you guys a fresh pot,” said Mike. “Orin, I set out some hot chocolate pouches for you, too.”
“Thanks,” said Shona. She leaned forward and kissed him. “That was very sweet.”
“You guys took long enough,” said Hector. “What did you do, walk there?”
“As a matter of fact, we did,” said Malmoradan.
Hector scoffed. “In the middle of a log-lifter? That was dumb. Why didn’t you take one of the buggies?”
“According to Xylander, they were all in use,” said Orin. He told them of their trip through the blizzard, the room full of body bags, and their encounter with the giant lantern skink.
Hector whistled appreciatively. “You guys have definitely earned your coffee. John, let’s get this slug over to the OR so we can start defrosting it. Everyone should find something to do for a few hours. Also, don’t drink all my coffee. It’s one of the few things they grow up there, and it isn’t cheap. Okay?”
“You want me to get that for you?” asked Shona, and she easily hoisted the body bag.
Hector cleared his throat. “Seriously. What are you?”
“She’s my daughter,” grumbled Malmoradan.
“You must take after your mother,” said Hector. “Thanks, Shona. I welcome the assist. Make a right past the bathrooms, and it’s the double doors at the end. We’ll follow you.”
“You’re welcome,” said Shona, and she carried the body bag to the operating room.
Cajun and Hector squeezed past her. “Right over here,” said Hector, and he rolled a surgical table into the center of the room. He stepped on the wheel locks, halting the table in place. Shona set down the bag, and Hector moved a massive lamp into position above it. He switched on a red light, and the room immediately began to warm.
“All right guys, good luck,” said Shona. “Please don’t make us go and get another one.” She stooped out of the room, headed back for the lobby.
“I suppose we should find somethin’ to do, ourselves,” said Cajun.
“How about brunch? For everyone. On me,” said Hector.
Cajun chuckled. “I suppose I’ll have to see exactly how keen they are on stardust and unicorn meat.” Hector and Cajun rejoined the others in the lobby, and Hector repeated his offer to pay for brunch.
“We appreciate the offer, but I doubt my team has the stomach flora required to process the local cuisine,” said Casey. She jostled the duffle bag. “We brought our own.”
Hector laughed, and his legs clanked as he stood with arms akimbo. “You’re taking a pass on the stardust and the unicorn meat?”
“Rusty called it that,” said Shona. “Why do you call it that?”
“Well, because it’s more believable than sunshine and rainbows, don’t you think?” asked Hector.
“Casey, what’s in their food?” asked Shona.
“You’ll want to stick with the rations,” said Casey. “Trust me. I forgot to brief most of you on this, but the food here is ninety-nine percent reclaimed organic matter. The water is completely reclaimed.”
Orin shrugged. “I’m game. Thanks, Hector.” He glanced outside, spotting a dozen residents as they moved to and from the cantina. “Most of the public water on Rhyon is reclaimed. Stardust and unicorn meat sounds better than all the vat scrapings I ate growing up.”
“I’ll join you,” said Mike.
Shona shook her head. “You heard the part where she said reclaimed organic matter, right?”
“I did,” said Mike
“You understand what that means, right?” She gagged slightly as she thought about it.
“I had a chance to scout out the cantina while you three were getting the body blank,” said Mike. “They’re using food printers. It’s nothing to worry about.”
Shona coughed. “I don’t think you get what they’re using for source material. I really didn’t wanna spell it out for you, but I guess I have to.”
“No, I get it,” said Mike. He grinned as he jammed his thumb into the bottom of his fist and slowly pulled it out.
“Mike, stop!” said Shona.
Orin’s eyes widened, and he leaned in close to Mike. “Wait, it’s recycled shit?”
“Sure, in the same way that vegetables are recycled manure,” said Mike. “I can’t speak to what else happens to the waste along the way, but the space stations send down perfectly usable nutrient pellets and protein bricks.”
“Oh,” said Orin, and he stood up straight. “Well, I guess it can’t be that bad. The diners sounded pretty happy last night, so it must taste pretty good.”
Shona covered her mouthpiece. “No!”
“Don’t worry about us,” said Mike. “Enjoy your MREs, you guys.”
“Ha!” Hector smirked. “You two are ridgier than most—I’ll
give you that much. Let’s go! The cantina awaits.” He led Mike and Orin out of his office. They made their way along the concourse, and a crowd quickly gathered around them.
“I’m going too,” said April, and she quickly caught up to her friends.
“What are they thinking?” breathed Shona, and she slowly pushed the doors closed.
“Don’t worry about it too much,” said Edison, and he patted his medical kit. “There’s plenty in here to counteract whatever the food here does to them.”
Cajun retrieved a ration kit and opened it up. He produced a green pouch marked “Vegetarian Taco Pasta” and a small packet of “Crunchy Peanut Butter.” He dangled a pouch labeled “Meatless Beef Strips” and regarded Edison with a raised brow. “Ya got anything in there to counteract what we brought?”
Malmoradan laughed. “Hey now, those are warrior tested and warrior approved!”
“Ya see how many warriors I let in my kitchen?” He handed Malmoradan an unopened ration kit. “That number’s zero, in case ya were wonderin’. Zero!”
Casey passed ration kits to Shona and Edison, before retrieving one of her own. “No one here is a stranger to MREs. Not even you Cajun, and they’re not all that bad. I still have fond memories of some sausage and gravy I got from one of these.”
Malmoradan tore open a pouch of “Chicken Burrito Bowl” and set to stirring it around inside the container. He glanced at Cajun. “Hector must really trust you. Personally, I’d have kicked us out and locked up the office if I was stepping out for a few.”
“Not gettin’ the sense this is a place with a lot o’ locked doors,” said Cajun. “Don’t know about you, but we’re the only law I’ve seen in these parts.”
“You might be right about that,” said Casey.
“Pretty sure I am,” said Cajun.
Malmoradan grabbed a plastic spoon from his kit and scooped out a heap of burrito mix. “Down the hatch,” he muttered, and he took a bite. After a moment, he nodded. “Not bad,” he said, and he gulped it down. “Not bad.”
◆◆◆
Hector led April, Mike, and Orin around the curve of a diagonal corner. A wall of voices greeted them as locals dined at dozens of tables placed outside the cantina. Broad, striped awnings covered the exterior dining area, shielding the patrons from a constant rain of condensation dripping from thick pipes high overhead.
Inside, a mix of steel and copper pipes lined the ceiling, vanishing into girded junctions, only to reappear from the walls and continue down through the grated floor. Twice as many tables filled the space inside, and two more levels of grated floors awaited them overhead. Steam churned within a copper dome positioned directly above the bar, fed by a dozen pipes that formed the dome’s ribs.
“Up there’s the skyman,” said Hector, and he pointed to a dark and cozy corner on the third floor. “If you get the crowd going loud enough, rumor has it he’ll come down and listen to what you have to say. Personally, I think he’s a corporate plant who’s conned these good people into foregoing any workman’s comp claims, but you didn’t hear that from me.”
“Xylander thinks well of the skyman,” said Orin, and he briefly explained to Mike and April his theories about Cherry Grove’s keeper of oral history. “He pretty much confirmed I was right about that, too.”
“Not saying he’s a bad man,” said Hector. “In fact, I think that might the only capital crime around here. I’m just saying I have my suspicions, since he never once came down to hear what I’ve had to say.”
“Maybe your stories have too much you in them,” said April.
Hector waved dismissively. “Whatever, lady. Now I’m going to make you work for my recommendations.” He tapped his forehead and squinted.
“Seriously?” asked April.
“Seriously,” said Hector, and he thought of everything he liked at the cantina.
April frowned. “Hector, I sensed your eyes on me when we first arrived. I won’t peer into your thoughts if it can be avoided… At least not without wading boots and a rain slick.”
“I really need to adjust my goggles,” said Hector. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Sorry if I did.”
“You can make it up to me by telling us what you’d recommend,” said April.
Hector tapped his chin. “Nope,” he said, and he returned to squinting and visualizing.
“You’re ridiculous,” said April.
Mike pointed at a black-glass signboard above the bar, covered in condensation. Humorously, he exaggerated his gestures and expressions. “Wait, is that… is that the menu? April, I think that’s the menu.”
“Good luck ordering off of it,” said Hector.
Orin twisted slightly to look at the menu board. Four hooked lamps bathed it in soft light; intermittent patches of steam rolled down from above. Written in various shades of dayglow wax crayon, the menu promised items like, Truffle-Stuffed Glaive, Crunchy-Bun Log, and Shadow “Sprong.” Glancing at the surrounding tables, he found no clues as to what the menu board offered. “I have no idea what any of those things are,” he muttered, and he looked apologetically at April.
“I can help you with that,” said Apple. Dressed now in a waitress uniform, she accompanied a half dozen other locals. “It’s Orin, right?”
“That’s right.”
Apple nodded. “Did Shona and Malmoradan make it back all right?”
“They did,” said Orin. “Thanks for asking. You’re very good with names!”
She smiled matter-of-factly. “It’s kind of my job to be.”
Gradually, the cantina fell quiet, and all eyes turned to regard the visitors.
“Since it’s your first time dining with us, I’d recommend the ruby sleeves and a side of badroot mash,” said Apple. “Maybe chase it with some twelve-year-old amber grease or a bottle of scarlet upswill if you’re well-higged. If you’re in the mood for dessert after, I suggest the icierites. We make ‘em even better than they do in Morgan Cove.”
“I don’t know if I’m well-higged, but I don’t see what that has to do with ordering food,” said Orin.
Apple laughed. “Everything!”
“Orin, you’re not even close,” said Hector. “Take a deep breath, okay? Being higged means you got money. Being well-higged… you can figure it out. Anyway, they don’t honor Galactic Credits here, which is why I offered to pay.”
“They can pay another way,” said the bartender, and he glanced toward the cozy corner up on the third floor. “If the skyman takes heed, all your food here is free. Regale us with tales of adventures authentic…” Over and over, he lifted his arms toward the crowd.
The patrons began chanting, “Regale us with tales of adventures authentic! Regale us with tales of adventures authentic!”
Orin shook his head, and his ears turned beet red. “No way. I can’t do this.”
“May I?” asked Mike, and he stepped forward. “Good people of the Cherry Grove Cantina! My name is Mike Santos, and I’d love to tell you a little bit about my corner of this great big galaxy we call the Milky Way.”
The crowd slowly fell silent. The bartender grinned as he retrieved several leaf-shaped slices of steak and plopped them on the grill. He mixed butter with olive oil, and brushed the meat with it, adding a handful of spices. The steaks sizzled, and he folded them over on themselves. He turned down the heat and listened as Mike spoke.
“We’ll start with something sad, like so many good stor—” He caught himself. “Like so many good scealers do. My very best friend and I stepped into a flying car for what turned out to be his uncle’s last ride…” Mike spun the story of the sky van collision, and how it brought Nimbus into their lives.
Apple served them the steaks with a side of mashed potatoes. She added a few shots of whisky and a bottle of port. Mike stuffed a few bites into his mouth and gulped some wine before continuing.
“Together, we faced a few dust ups over the years, but between Orin’s time on the high school wrestling team, Nimbus’s gift for
shapeshifting, and my own skill in hand-to-hand combat, we usually triumphed. Then one night, as fate would have it…”
As he told them about the events outside Nostromo’s Descent, the crowd stirred. Mike paused his narrative as he tracked to where they were looking. The cozy corner stood empty, and the man who had occupied it slowly walked down the stairs to the second floor.
Apple leaned in close. “Don’t stop scealing, for goodness’ sakes!”
“Right.” Mike returned his attention to the crowd. “Well, Orin stood there, floating over the restaurant, with two halves of that truck held high off the ground…” As he continued, the skyman began to walk down to the first floor. “…we didn’t know what had just happened,” said Mike. “Orin passed out, right as the local law showed up.”
Just then, Casey, Malmoradan, Shona, Cajun, and Edison entered the establishment. “My dear listeners, I present to you the takedown crew,” said Mike. “Plus, Cajun and Dr. Stone.” He gestured toward them, and the crowd cheered. For a moment, they chanted Cajun’s name.
“It’s the beard,” grumbled Cajun.
“No, it’s you,” said Hector, and he hugged him sidelong. “Glad you vagrants could make it.”
“What the hell is going on?” asked Casey.
April gestured toward Mike. “He’s telling our story. It’s a very important part of the Cherry Grove tradition.”
The patrons made room for their guests, and Casey’s team sat down at the tables near Mike. As he resumed his tales, Apple approached to take their orders. “No thanks,” said Casey. “We already ate.”
“Wave me over if you change your mind,” said Apple. “Got a feeling all this will be free.”
Mike shared stories about their time at the Beacon Street police station, as well as the visit Martin’s driver paid them at his dorm room. “Now, Torsha and I weren’t about to fall for that ruse, so we gave him the slip. We holed up in an empty office directly over a reclamation facility…” Mike shared his account of their daring escape from the marketplace pursuers, their body-swap with the denshi-tengus, and how they snuck aboard Fox Mendes. As he narrated the pirate invasion, the skyman at last stepped into view. “…and with that, I subdued the man in the armored vacuum suit! Now, there wasn’t much time, so I, uh… hello.”