#A Taste of Home

Claye paused, struggling to catch his breath in the thick, humid air. It had taken him months to fully furbish the greenhouse module with planters fashioned from their dismantled ship—sowing seeds, discarding the faulty, nurturing the needy. His work was finally coming to fruition.

Wiping his brow, Claye returned to his prize plant. Luscious leaves spilt over the soil, sagging under the weight of bright red berries. The sight made his mouth water. Subsisting only on freeze-dried, vacuum-packed rubbish, he'd almost forgotten what real food tasted like, and forgetting was painful. But Arjun would kill him if he didn't wait.

He activated his comms. "It's time."

The young man appeared round the door, panting.

"Did you run here?" Claye asked.

Arjun grinned. "I wasn't sure I could count on fraternal loyalty to hold you back from the feast."

"Feast!" he scoffed, picking the two ripest, reddest strawberries. "We're only having one each! We've got to ensure failure isn't fatal."

"Fine," the young man sighed. "On three? One..."

They lifted the fruit to their mouths.

"Two..."

Claye's lips brushed its skin.

"Three!"

He bit down, sweet, tart juice flooding his mouth. Savouring every second, he chewed until the last drop of flavour faded before glancing at his friend. "So," he said, "what do you think?"

Arjun started out of his reverie, meeting Claye's gaze with a grin. "Tastes like home."

WC: 230

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