Title: Aisle 12, Section D
Author: cofax
Email: cofax7@yahoo.com
Category: challenge - 250 words about another planet
Aisle 12, Section D
By cofax
January 2002
Today John forgets he is a fugitive, wanted across an area so large the
light from this star won't cross it before he dies. Fugitives don't do
a lot of shopping.
The transport pod crouches on an obsidian landing pad, one of thousands
spiraling out from this port's center. They dot the ground amid dense
silver vegetation that smells like sage and oranges under his boots.
"Did you remember the stones, Crichton?" D'Argo rumbles. Two moons in
the sky are ringed in alabaster and jade. A metra away another ship
touches down, this one Dali-esque, a melted Erector-set. The air hums
with engines.
"Yeah, I've got 'em, D." Slaps the jewels in his pocket, payment from
the quadrupeds on Spprresst -- he never can remember names -- for
fixing their desalinization plant.
Aeryn pauses at the sight of a flying carpet carrying two ruby-crested
reptiles. The reptiles perch atop several crates, their triple tails
balancing them as the carpet whips past.
"So where do we --"
An empty carpet pulls up, lowers itself to just above the ground. All
sapphire and mother-of-pearl: Zhaan would have loved it. John expects
it to drop under his weight, but it's stable. He settles Wynona and
sits. "Shuttle for Terminal A -- American, Southwest, United."
In the distance is a spire stabbing towards the moons, the offworlders'
marketplace. They'll see a hundred sentient species, take some risks
with food. Be tourists for a day before someone recognizes them -- and
they run again.
END
Notes: many thanks to Marasmus for flybeta and judicious editing.
Author: cofax
Email: cofax7@yahoo.com
Category: challenge - 250 words about another planet
Aisle 12, Section D
By cofax
January 2002
Today John forgets he is a fugitive, wanted across an area so large the
light from this star won't cross it before he dies. Fugitives don't do
a lot of shopping.
The transport pod crouches on an obsidian landing pad, one of thousands
spiraling out from this port's center. They dot the ground amid dense
silver vegetation that smells like sage and oranges under his boots.
"Did you remember the stones, Crichton?" D'Argo rumbles. Two moons in
the sky are ringed in alabaster and jade. A metra away another ship
touches down, this one Dali-esque, a melted Erector-set. The air hums
with engines.
"Yeah, I've got 'em, D." Slaps the jewels in his pocket, payment from
the quadrupeds on Spprresst -- he never can remember names -- for
fixing their desalinization plant.
Aeryn pauses at the sight of a flying carpet carrying two ruby-crested
reptiles. The reptiles perch atop several crates, their triple tails
balancing them as the carpet whips past.
"So where do we --"
An empty carpet pulls up, lowers itself to just above the ground. All
sapphire and mother-of-pearl: Zhaan would have loved it. John expects
it to drop under his weight, but it's stable. He settles Wynona and
sits. "Shuttle for Terminal A -- American, Southwest, United."
In the distance is a spire stabbing towards the moons, the offworlders'
marketplace. They'll see a hundred sentient species, take some risks
with food. Be tourists for a day before someone recognizes them -- and
they run again.
END
Notes: many thanks to Marasmus for flybeta and judicious editing.
