Not Alone
The meat had to be eaten quickly to avoid spoilage, but Chef definitely didn't mind a breakfast that consisted of cold meat, and neither did Cassie. Larisa turned her nose up to the idea, writing only that she 'didn't like eating animals', but she accepted the fact that food was necessary, no matter where it came from, and that letting the meat go to waste would be even worse than eating it. She did make sure to clearly display a note saying, 'can tolerate hunting. no cruelty though'.
After breakfast – sadly without warm milk – Larisa went to fetch another seed packet from the shelter and set off to a nearby patch of land to sow even more future vegetables. She'd taken the potato seeds this time, and selected a less fertile bit of soil to grow them in. Chef thought that made sense, after all, everyone knew potatoes were anything but fussy when it came to the ground they were sown in. Hell, they'd even grown on the garbage heap back home.
Cassie had set off to patrol the perimeter again, and so he was left alone. Even Bob spent most of his time twisting around Larisa's ankles. With no real job to do, Chef figured he might as well go cut down some more trees to process into planks.
Larisa liked it best when she was alone, but that meant 'without people around her'. Bob the cat wasn't people, and she enjoyed his company as he rubbed the side of his head against her calves, meowed quietly as she worked, or simply sat a distance away, licking himself clean. Every once in a while, he pounced on an insect or some other tiny thing that moved, but for the most part, he just kept her company, watching her, nuzzling her, or just being there. Larisa permitted herself to assume he did so because he simply enjoyed it, and not only because of the small scraps of meat she kept in her pocket and occasionally tossed his way. The way to an animal's love was through its stomach, true, but Larisa was also firmly convinced that animals sought and gave affection for its own sake as well, and not just for the expected reward of treats.
She righted her back and stretched, her hands on her lumbar region. This work was murder on the spine, but it had to be done. She could only imagine how hard this all must be for regular people. Still, she'd deserved a break, and a short sit-down in the shelter with the last of the sterilized water. The sun was high in the sky, and its heat beat down on her. Heatstroke was a very real danger, and it was a good idea to cool off every now and then.
Chef was a ways off, tampering with the settings on his welder-cutter, his back to her. She was sure nobody would mind if she drank the last of the water.
As she entered the shelter, and her eyes tried to adapt to the low light, she thought she saw a dark shadow in the far corner. Her heart briefly stopped, even as she tried to tell herself it was probably Cassie taking a brief cat nap.
Even if Larisa had been able to shout, she never would have had the time to do so. A powerful force struck her in the torso, bowling her over. Reflexively, her hand shot out and grabbed hold of whatever it could, her fingers closing around a rush of fabric and clinging on.
There was a cursing voice and the sound of a body striking the wooden floorboards, at the same time Larisa smacked to the floor, her teeth clacking together. The shadow tried to regain its footing, but Larisa's other hand grabbed hold of it as well, and the next moment, she felt herself being dragged out along with the shadow. A powerful blow hit her on the cheek and all sound fell away, save for the ringing in her ears. Another blast of pain came as a hard impact struck her sternum.
Now, in the light, she could see her attacker. Between the flailing arms and kicking legs, she could see the face of another human, female, with lustrous tanned skin. For a moment, she thought it was just Cassie and this was all a misunderstanding, but then another punch socked her in the forehead and her vision doubled and blurred. She wasn't even aware of her fingers still clinging to her attacker, but they did.
A bang sounded, loud enough to penetrate the deafness the numbing blows had inflicted on her. The following scream, too, reached her ears. No more fists or knees came, and Larisa managed to regain her footing, her fingers still around the other attacker's clothing. Now it was her turn to fight back, and she let go with one hand, balling it into a fist and striking the woman square on the nose. The satisfaction was immense as she felt the other's nose crunching beneath her knuckles.
She did not have time to land another blow. She saw a wooden shape whip through the air, hitting the attacker in the back of the head. All resistance fell away as the woman collapsed like a bag of meat.
It only took a few breaths for the pain to make itself known. Her cheek began pounding to the rhythm of her thundering heartbeat, and her chest felt like it had been dented inwards, pain also radiating from there. She bent double and fell into a coughing fit.
"You alright?" she heard Chef's worried voice. She simply remained doubled over and flapped her hand to show she'd be fine. It felt nice somehow. Made her feel alive.
Running footsteps and panting breaths approached, and Cassie's voice came with it. "… the Hell?"
"I don't know," Chef blurted, confused, still holding the wooden plank, one of its corners with blood and a few black hairs clinging to it. "All of a sudden I see Risa and this… whoever she is, stumbling out of the shelter, giving each other what-for."
Larisa managed to right her back again, and scribbled,
someone in shelter
thief?
"Yeah, probably," Cassie said, slinging her rifle over her shoulder. "She's out for the count for now."
"Probably even worse," Chef pointed out. "I hit her pretty hard, and well, the bullet probably wasn't very healthy either."
Larisa looked down at the woman who'd attacked her. She was lying in the grass, her eyes closed. Her nose was swelling, and blood caked her upper lip and chin. Those weren't the least of her injuries, however. Her left hand was a ruin, the thumb and forefinger all but destroyed, white shards of bone sticking out from inside the torn, red meat.
"What do we do with her?" Cassie asked. "Whatever it is, we have to decide quickly."
"We don't know why she's here. Maybe she's a survivor too. You know, from the ship? Seems the choice we have is either fix her up, or um, you know. Put her to sleep. But I'd rather not resort to that, if it's all the same to you guys."
Cassie cocked her head. "Me neither... But we don't have much medicine or food. I'm all for avoiding needless bloodshed, but…"
Larisa shrugged and wrote,
On one hand
Human being and so are we
Shouldn't kill her unless we have to
On other hand
Have enough problems without spending effort on injured
Might not even survive
Chef scratched the back of his head. "This is difficult. Personally, I think we should strive to keep our humanity as much as we can. And that also means showing mercy to those who try to steal from us."
"I'm all for mercy," Cassie said, "but we need to consider this carefully. There's not much point in doing the right thing if it means we'll all starve to death."
Chef nodded. "I know, but still… I don't want to be a few weeks down the line and think to myself, 'we could have done more', you know?"
"She did try to steal from us."
"That's what we assume. And hardly means she deserves to die."
Larisa wrote,
play stupid games
win stupid prizes
That got a chuckle out of Chef. "I know, but still." He sighed. "There's three of us. We can just call a vote. You want our little thief to live, raise your hand." He added deed to word and stuck his hand in the air.
Cassie, with a grin telling Chef he was being way too soft, raised her hand after a moment too.
Larisa, after a few moments, joined in, but whether it was out of her own accord, or simply not to appear contrarian when it no longer mattered anyway, was anything but clear, not even to herself.
"Alright," Cassie said. "Decided, by unanimous vote. Let's haul her to the shelter, see what we can do for her. But we are tying her up."
Larisa nodded as vigorously as she could without looking ridiculous.
The three of them lifted the ailing woman up and carried her to the shelter, laying her down in one of the beds. Bob the cat immediately began nuzzling her face.
"Let's get that hand bandaged," Cassie said. "I don't suppose any of you know anything about medicine?"
She was right not to suppose so.
"Right. Um, I know some first aid, but it's not much. We can't really sterilize the hand, but we definitely need to stop the bleeding and make sure the injuries don't get infected. Chef, while I take care of this, can you and Larisa build some kind of cell? Just a small hut to keep her inside?"
"And get it done today?" the guy asked. "No way."
"Well, we need to keep her inside, or the moment we turn our heads, she'll be gone with all our stuff."
We keep her in here, Larisa wrote.
Sleep rough for a night
Build ourselves a better shelter
Chef took the paper and nodded. "Seems like the best idea, yeah."
With a shrug, Cassie said, "Sure, if that's what you want. Not like the nights will get tragically cold in the first week, looks like." She looked up at the sky with a doubtful face. "Let's just hope it doesn't rain anytime soon."
"I'll have a better shelter built in a day or two," Chef assured her. It was doable, had to be, Larisa hoped. "But I need to start now. Larisa, can you give me a hand?"
Ugh, really? Making sure he noticed it really, really was a pain, she gave a grudging nod. Before they began, she couldn't resist writing,
this chick better be worth it
"I hope so too," Chef told her, looking back at the shelter where Cass had begun taking care of the mystery woman's hand.
The construction took the whole day, Larisa spending the entire time wishing she was doing something else, and alone. Chef was nice, she supposed, as far as people went, but she still preferred to work alone. He talked almost incessantly, which many people would doubtless find entertaining, but for her was very emotionally draining. He told her about his past, how he'd been a prisoner sold into slavery, fetching a rather handsome price for his cooking abilities. How he'd spent his slavery cooking, baking, and doing all kinds of things to food in order to turn it into better food. How he'd been lucky enough to be drafted for the planet-wide space project (just like Larisa, and presumably Cass) and marched aboard a ship and stuffed into a cryosleep casket. The rest, he said, didn't have to be told.
At the end of the day, with the new barrack only a quarter done, Larisa fell asleep almost instantly, exhausted in body and soul.