Author: Rick Tobin

Jason continued to turn a small half-fried reptile in a solar often. Cooking took longer on this world with its distant red sun. Bursts of drifting dust blew over him and his two companion portal flyers. Emily was rinsing her hair delicately with precious water from the tiny oasis near the rocky outcrop that acted as their day retreat. Days on their accidental prison felt endless. Yalon kept busy looking at portal maps and older sky charts in mindless hope of an answer. Jason remained focused on their limited roasted fare.

“Is that about ready, Jase,” Emily asked, squeezing the last of the moisture from her heavy black locks into her cracked hands she used to wipe away the grit already accumulating across her tired complexion.

Jason nodded, watching the corpse’s greases drop and spit up as small flashes across the metal cooking panel.

“We might be there. I’m sure of it,” Yalon, the captain mumbled. Jason and Emily had grown use to his prattle after the crash landing. Emily looked out across the horizon, over the hundreds of miles of dunes and occasional outcrops of unidentified plant life…almost all poisonous or inedible. Constant gray shadows in the distance warned of a coming sandstorm. The ship still provided some protection, but everything needed for comfort had disappeared months before. She sighed, trying not to let the depression and insanity that had overtaken Yalon creep into her.

Each sat on their appointed rock seats—furniture of necessity. Jason pulled the sizzling meat away from the solar stove, placing it gingerly on surviving metal plates from the ship debris. He thought of their fate, hitting a dark energy void during the portal launch. It was an unknown threat. But it hardly mattered, now that they were trapped forever, God only knew how far from their target.

“C’mon, Yalon,” Emily directed so he would remember even basic needs. He had drifted down into a simple childishness. “Time to eat. You’ll like it.” She felt a mothering urge, even though she had never had her own, and wouldn’t now.

“Sure. Sure,” Yalon responded. “I’m sure we’re close. Sure of it.”

The three sat quietly, staring down at the blackened shreds Jason had sliced for them. It wasn’t much, but it allowed survival. The animal traps grew less effective as they continued to devour the limited fauna. Dust and sand were already beginning to float over them, as Yalon coughed with his allergies.

“How about we do something different for this meal, guys?” Emily asked. “Just once, let’s mention what we miss most about home, on Earth. How about it? Let me start. I’d love to have a wonderful bubble bath surrounded by lavender candles while listening to Beethoven’s sonatas. You, Yalon?”

“Oh, uh, I’d like to see my mother and sister. It should be around the holidays now. Sliced turkey and gravy, with no sand or grunge on our food, and clear snowy air outside,” he said, forgetting his mother’s death.

“How nice,” Emily added. “And you, Jason? You don’t have to, but you share so little while you work so hard to keep our camp going.”

Jason turned his head to the left for a second, pondering. “I don’t ask for much, but if I had a single wish …maybe toilet paper.”