Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44256 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 221(@200wpm)___ 177(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
I eye the two of them. “Me?”
Lady Ruth nods and rubs a hand over her belly. “Straik told me not to leave the ship without him.”
“And Kaz told me to keep Ruth company,” Ruthie chimes in. “And she has pregnancy cravings bad.”
“So bad,” Ruth agrees. “Sooo…butter?”
Reluctant, I take the wrapper. “This cannot wait?”
“No, because someone else might buy it all up. Go to the general store and buy everything they have. Doesn’t matter the flavor.”
Ruthie gasps. “Oh my god, you think they have garlic butter?”
“I mean, probably not? I don’t think garlic is an alien herb. But if whatever they make is that tasty, I want all of it in my belly.” Ruth eyes me. “And you’re just sitting here moping anyhow, Aithar.”
I manage an indignant look. “I am not moping.”
“You are too. Whatsername, Bethany?”
“Melody—”
“You deserve better than someone that doesn’t want you.”
“That is the problem. No one wants me,” I say glumly.
“You just need to find the right lady, one that can’t keep her hands off you,” Ruthie sympathizes. “But until then…you can go on a butter run.”
A butter run. Perhaps I should. Maybe a task is the distraction I need. The dead-silent comm station is certainly not providing the diversion I had hoped for. Biting back a sigh, I eye the wrapper again. “Space Butter.”
I leave the ship and walk the short distance into the small settlement unimaginatively named “Port.” Even though my mood is rather low, it is hard to stay depressed when the sun is shining and the breeze caresses my face. Risda III smells incredible, like new grass and fresh air, nothing like the normal busy space hubs our ship visits, or the mining station I was enslaved upon before getting my freedom with Lord Straik. No one can stay in a foul mood when there is sunshine and birds chirping.
By the time I get to the main thoroughfare of Port, I’m humming to myself. I head for the store, and as I do, I notice there are a few humans strolling about. There is a female with a male praxxiian, and another female talking to one of the custodians. She’s touching his face, so I am guessing she is his mate. As I enter the store, I see two women share a kiss over by the produce.
Is everyone on this planet paired up but me? The thought is a depressing one and my mood deflates once more.
I head to the counter and hold the wrapper out to the avian clerk. “I am looking for Space Butter.”
He eyes the wrapper and gives an affirmative squawk. “The humans love their weird foods, don’t they? Yes, we have more of that. How much do you want?”
I think about the enjoyment noises Ruthie and Ruth were making. While they were noisy, they are only two humans. How much can they possibly eat?
And then I remember Ruth’s pregnancy cravings. “Give me everything you have.”
The avian flutters his stubby wings and takes a few long-legged steps to the back of the store. He returns a moment later with two more cubes of the wrapped product. “This is all I have for the rest of the week. I should get another shipment in on Monday. She comes in then.”
Something tells me this answer will not be enough. “She? Is the creator local?”
He nods. “You want the coordinates to her farm? She told me if anyone wants a bulk order to see her directly.”
“I do. Give me her name.”
“It’s Michaela. I’ll send you the coordinates. When you’re in the area, look for the barn with the logo painted on it. You can’t miss it.” He taps a claw on the wrapper I’ve left on the counter. It looks like a stylized ship of some kind, though a bit ridiculous. Whoever heard of a spaceship that looks like a big disc?
I pay for the butter and step outside. As I do, I notice my purchase is getting squishy in my hand. Does it melt, then? It won’t last if I head out to this Space Butter Farm today. I head in the opposite direction of the path out of town, veering toward the far end of Port’s main street and toward the cantina under construction. Ducking inside under the plas-tarp that covers the open door, I’m greeted with the sound of drills and saws as the rest of the crew works on putting together the cantina. At some point it’s going to have a long bar, a kitchen and serving area, and a great many tables filling the floor. Right now it’s just a bunch of crates and a lot of mess.
“I’m not staying long,” I call out as I enter, holding up the butter. “I’m just putting some snacks in the refrigeration unit for Lady Ruth.”
Heading to the back, I run into Dopekh in the kitchen area. He’s working on wiring something together and stops when he sees me. He glances at the door and takes a step closer to me. “You should make this quick, Aithar.”