She caught up to Nathan and Jalea a few moments later. They had stopped at another vendor table and were looking over the selection of raw molo spread out neatly on the table when Jalea began to speak. “Good day to you, sir,” she offered in a manner that caused Nathan to believe it to be a standard greeting on Haven.
“And good day to you all,” the merchant returned. He was an older man, similar in age to their late captain, and had obviously worked outdoors as of late. His hair was pulled back in a short, tight tail, and he wore the clothes of a man who worked the land. There was a manner to him, Nathan noticed, that belied his current trade. Something about the way that he moved, the way that he carried himself. He stood tall and proud, unlike the beaten down farmers he had met in Luis’s village. “Are you interested in some molo today?” the farmer asked.
“Possibly,” Jalea said. “If it is fresh and of fair price.”
“Harvested daily,” he boasted. He picked up a piece of the fungus and tore off a corner, handing it to Jalea to inspect.
She held it up to her nose, drawing a sniff in gently to inspect the aroma. She bite off a small piece to taste. “Perhaps to soon?” she commented. “It’s still bitter.”
“It will finish aging in another day,” he insisted. “Then it will be perfect.”
“Of course.” Jalea looked about the table, noticing that there were very few varieties available. “Do you mostly sell the paler varieties?”
“I usually have some of the darker varieties. But most of my stock was purchased earlier today. I will have more tomorrow, after today’s harvest is concluded.”
“Then you live nearby?”
“Not far,” he said. “Are you looking to buy in quantity?”
“Yes. An unfortunate accident has left us with a large and hungry crew to feed. We might also be in the market for other types of produce as well.”
“How many mouths must you feed?” he asked.
“Maybe fifty, for a few weeks at the most.”
A puzzled look came across the farmer’s face for a moment. “I believe I can supply you with what you need,” he promised. “If you like, you may travel with me back to my farm after the market closes. Then you may see for yourself what my humble enterprise has to offer.”
“A most gracious offer, sir. I shall consult with my colleagues. Perhaps we shall see you at the day’s end.”
“I look forward to it,” he replied graciously, as they turned and walked away.
Tobin’s vehicle pulled to a stop near his ship in its berth at the spaceport. As Mendez and Weatherly dismounted, another vehicle arrived, delivering four unkempt men.
“Who are they?” Mendez asked Tobin, his hand sliding inside of his cloak to find the butt of his weapon. Tobin gestured for Mendez to remain calm, as the four men approached.
“May I help you?” Tobin asked the leader of the group.
“We’re members of the harvesting team you hired,” the apparent leader of the group announced. He handed over a small ID card to Tobin for inspection.
“We had expected a single representative,” Tobin stated, taking the man’s credentials.
“We hoped to ride up with you. It’s a bit cramped in the other ships.”
Tobin inspected the man’s credentials. Satisfied that they were legitimate, he returned them. “Of course. There is just enough room for the four of you. You may board now. We will depart shortly.”
The four new arrivals made their way past and boarded Tobin’s ship. Mendez watched as Tobin made arrangements with the ground crew in preparation for departure. After a few minutes, Tobin returned. “Shall we depart?” he asked as he climbed aboard. Sergeant Weatherly followed him in, and after one last look around, Ensign Mendez became the last to climb aboard.
The ship’s hatch closed automatically as its engines began to spin up to full power. The ship began to roll slowly out of its berth and onto the taxi-way, turning left as it exited its berth.
Mendez looked at the men sharing the small cabin with himself and Sergeant Weatherly. The four of them were dirty, with unwashed hair and worn clothing, and were somewhat lacking in dental hygiene. The leader of the four was staring at Sergeant Weatherly in a menacing fashion. At first, the sergeant chose to ignore the man. But by the time they reached the launch pad and began to rise up off the deck to begin their flight back to the Aurora, he had endured enough.
“Can I help you, old man?” Sergeant Weatherly challenged.
“You look like a soldier,” the old man stated with suspicion, as he looked him up and down. “The only soldiers I know are the Takar.” The old man looked Weatherly and Mendez over before continuing. “Are you Takar?” he asked, a trace of hatred in his voice.
Sergeant Weatherly could tell that the old man was trying to bait him. “No,” he answered without missing a beat. “But I’m pretty sure I’ve killed a few,” he added, a smile creeping onto his face.
The old man squinted at Sergeant Weatherly for several seconds, a grin finally breaking through his stern gaze. He laughed openly, spitting onto the deck. “I like you.”
“Well, that just makes my day, it does,” the sergeant answered.
The ship continued to rise in altitude as it streaked away from the spaceport. As it continued to accelerate, the turbulence became more severe. It wasn’t as bad as it had been during their descent, but it was still a pretty rough ride. Mendez looked out the window nearest him and saw three ships forming up on their starboard side. Two of them appeared to be small cargo shuttles, while the third one was equipped with some sort of an open scoop under its belly.
“Who the hell are they?” Mendez asked no one in particular.
“Relax, them’s ours,” the old man informed him, a puzzled look on his face. “First time in the rings, boy?”
“You might say that,” Mendez admitted. “What’s that little ship for?”
“That’s the harvester,” the old man explained. “Scoops up rock and ice from the rings and brings it in to be processed.”
Mendez watched as the little ship danced about the others, bobbing in between them and maneuvering around from once side to the other. “What’s wrong with that guy?”
“Oh, that’s just Josh, showing off again. That boy couldn’t fly a straight line if his life depended on it!”
The nose on the ship began to pitch up, as her engines began to scream louder, accelerating them up and out of the little moon’s thick atmosphere. A few moments later, the shaking began to subside as the air thinned and they entered the blackness of space once more.
The five of them continued to stroll down the crowded street, weaving in and out of the surging crowds as they made their way past the produce merchants. Nathan felt more than one person’s glance linger on their group a little longer than he thought normal, which made him a bit apprehensive.
“I get the feeling we kind of stick out in the crowd,” he whispered to Jalea.
“No more than any other visitor to Haven,” she insisted. “Most of the shoppers are residents of this world. It is rare that an off-worlder shops the street markets here. Most of them don’t even come to the surface. They just hire through proxy.”
“I would think a crew would want to leave their ship, even if only for a few hours,” he offered. “Even if just to stretch their legs and get some fresh air.”
“Some do. But most would not consider the air of Haven to be fresh,” Jalea smiled.
“Yeah, I’d have to agree with them on that point,” Jessica said from behind. “Does it always smell like a fungus factory around here?”
“Ah yes, the molo. It is pungent. Especially during the harvest.”
“Captain? I vote next time we don’t come during the harvest,” Jessica said.
“I’ll make a note of it,” he promised. “Why is this molo so popular?”
“It is one of the few plants that continues to grow during the long darkness. The molo does quite nicely in the long, damp nights.”