A Pint of Moonberry

“Moonberry, please, babe. I know it’s late but I am dying for that ice cream. Or at least baby is.”

Rigel moaned as quietly as possible. Ice cream cravings past star-rise was a common request. Halley tried to keep her requests planetside but moonberry was her favorite.

“Alright, darlin. It’ll be a while. Think baby will let you remain alive while I’m gone?”

“Oh! Thank you, sweetheart. Just barely alive,” said Halley.

Walking to the kitchen, Rigel filled a small mug from the jug of cold Coriolis coffee in the deepfridge. A bit of a snob with his stimulants, this coffee was grown and brewed on 101955 Bennu. You could only get the brew every six years when the asteroid passed near enough to Earth. It had to be kept very cold and it was worth the price tag.

He pounded back the coffee, feeling the caffeine spike as the coffee chilled his throat.

Halley escorted Rigel to the mud room. He pulled the crinkly space jump suit down from the wall. It slicked up over jeans and tshirt and Halley zipped up the front. He stepped into the heavy moon boots and clumped over to grab his helmet when—

“Ugh. My wallet. It’s on my nightstand—”

“I’ll get it!” Halley ran upstairs.

Rigel took the top of the suit off, grumbling. Halley returned and handed him the lanyard attached to his interspacial ID chip card. He slipped it over his neck and Halley zipped him back up again. She kissed him on the cheek.

“Thanks, sweetie.”

Rigel kissed her back and smiled, placing a soft hand on her protruding belly.

“Bye nugget, be good to mommy.” He snapped the helmet over his head. The quiet smell of ozone lingered still.

Rigel walked out to his atmojump, first pressurizing his suit. It plumped with enough Earth air to last him 12 hours. More than enough for a quick jump to the blasted grocery store on the moon. The smell of ozone was stronger now, good. He stepped into the tiny ship, silver bright with chrome. Totally unnecessary of course, but if you were going to fly around in a rocket ship then why not.

He pulled down the hatch with an insulative thud and entered the grocery store coordinates into the nav. Securing his harness and listening to the antimatter drive power up, Rigel ran a last second safety check.

“All go,” chirped the computer voice.

With a sudden bump, the atmojump burst into the air. Rigel had a split-second view of Halley waving from the window and then he was miles above Colorado.

The traffic was busy tonight. Rigel could see jumps all over the state and plenty of freighters above the atmosphere. Entering the grocery store’s coordinates ensured his safety, of course, but sometimes he felt safer with the steering wheel of his car on the streets planetside. However, the space nav system was smart, and trusting your life to a computer was easy.

It would take about half an hour to reach the moon.

The antimatter drive was a gift from the nearest neighbors. Humans had known the exoplanet as Kepler-452b but the aliens knew it as Molyxal – or something close to that in pronunciation. The chances of evolution causing a humanoid species on another planet was nearly impossible, but it had happened. They were on average taller and had a slightly blue tint to their skin. They had two feet and two arms and a single head, as well as a face and a head of hair. But they had no eyebrows or external ears, and their internal anatomy was different enough that they moved in a different manner. Otherwise, they were like everyone else on Earth. They had families and homes and money and the internet and dinner. They even had pets. The furry things could not live on Earth but Rigel had seen pictures. Halley wanted one.

The Molies had arrived on Earth in a blaze of anticlimactic fanfare. They had no interest in conquest or anything really, other than exploration. It took time but languages were learned and technology was swapped. The Molies gave Earthlings the antimatter drive, a new genre of music, and strange, colorful art. Earthlings gave them advanced medicine, Pixar movies, pizza, and new places to hike. Molies loved the outdoors of Earth. Molyxal was primarily rocky and plant life was limited to a few hardy species. Earth was spectacularly beautiful in their eyes.

The relationship between Molies and Earthlings deepened as time passed and the economies mingled. Currency rates were established. They sold their own video gaming system at Best Buy and built a grocery store on the moon. Thanks to the alien technology, a colony of mixed Molies and Earthlings was building up around the grocery complex.

Rigel sighed and tapped his fingers on the dashboard. The moon grew within the viewer as he approached. The lights of the moonplex could be seen from space, which always struck Rigel as ridiculous but even he had to admit Astrophel’s was great.

A few minutes later the atmojump was resisting the descent to the moon and slowed with a muted roar. Rigel felt his stomach swoop like usual as the ship flipped to land bottom-side down into the shipdock. The airlock pressurized against his door and Rigel stepped out onto the gangway.

“Welcome to Astrophel’s,” said a feminine computer voice. The message was repeated in Molyxan.

Rigel walked the length of the gangway, still fully geared up. The weighted boots helped since the antigravity was not perfect, and even less so outside the store. He could not remove the helmet until completely inside, either.

He paused in the antechamber until full pressurization was achieved and then the doors opened.

Astrophel’s received him in all its splendor. The Molies had not just visited Earth. They had gone farther and had merch from several planets that the Earthlings may never see. Hence the store’s supreme popularity.

Rigel grabbed a shopping cart and removed his helmet. A special hook was there to hold it for him. Right next to the cupholder, because of course Starbucks was already in the store. The Molies had their own coffee kiosk across the aisle, too.

He inhaled deeply through his nose, registering the deeply herbal scent of the spices and the citrus scent of the flower aisle and the familiar yeasty smell of bread in the bakery. Perhaps he’d bring home a bouquet of the bright yellow snapdaisies from LHS 3844b. Halley thought they smelled like Dr. Pepper.

The Coriolis coffee was still powering through Rigel’s veins. While he was here he might as well do a bit of shopping. Halley would expect it anyway.

Molie classical music was jangling happily throughout the store. It always vaguely reminded Rigel of Christmas music, which was annoying in July and comforting in December. The next song up might be Rod Stewart, or M-pop, you never knew. Astrophel’s was an immersive experience on every level.

He steered to the coffee aisle first, his favorite. Coffee beans from Proxima b and Gliese 876d were available, as well as Ethiopian and Columbian. Turned out coffee is literally universal. Rigel totally understood. Opening the hatch from a dark blend called “Starry Night” he could smell cherries and chocolate and unearthly almonds. “Crater Kick” was a light morning blend that smelled both citrusy and salty. Rigel pulled down a waxy paper bag (no plastic allowed) and opened the hatch of the dark blend, enjoying the soft rumble of the beans. Whole bean only, obviously.

Next was the spice aisle. The spices could be bought by the jar or in bulk. The Molies had discovered chicken tikka masala in London so there were curries everywhere. The bright oranges and deep yellows sent their sweet earthy into the air. But Halley loved quamash from GJ 180b, a dark green leafy herb that was somewhere between rosemary and thyme in flavor. Rigel couldn’t tell the difference, but Halley said she could, so he grabbed an extra-large jar. Rigel’s mum enjoyed rosamun from LHS 3844b, which smelled like cinnamon but tasted more like a mixture of brown sugar and cardamom. Rigel was a fan, too. He popped two jars in the cart.

The next aisle was cereal and didn’t much interest Rigel. The Molies did not have cows and so had never imagined breakfast cereal. They had fallen hard for Lucky Charms. But Rigel grabbed a pouch of cranberry-esque granola that hailed from Promixa b. He liked the sugary bits from their strange spongy sap trees.

Steering to what could best be described as the cheeses, Rigel hunted around for the purple-veined Moscar he loved so much. Since cows were an Earth-only thing, this “cheese” was actually a large fungus found only on Gliese. Mined deep underground, Moscar mushrooms were an expensive treat. If a blue cheese could be enmeshed with purple basil it might be what Moscar was, but not quite. Spread on a dense French loaf it was utter heaven.

The ice cream had to be last since it would melt a little too much on the way home anyway. So, flowers were next. Rigel had to ride the mover to get to that section as it was at least a quarter-mile away. Earthlings and Molies alike rode with him, smiling shyly at one another. The mooners – or moon colony residents – were the most comfortable together, laughing and talking in Molyxan or English or whatever. Molies had a loud, barking laugh that carried far. It was one of the things that had made Earthlings comfortable with them. Everyone liked to make someone else laugh, after all.

“Hey,” he said to a Molie riding parallel to him. The badge on her suit indicated she was a mooner. The Molie smiled and waved.

“Hey to you,” she nodded. Her voice carried the strange accent of all Molies. Like no other accent on Earth, they all sounded as if their voice came from deeper within the throat. Molies spoke with a rich, melodious voice in a lower pitch. The larger male Molies sometimes had such deep voices that it was terribly hard to hear what they said.

“How was your trip up?” she asked.

“Fine, thank you.”

“And where did you jump from?”

“Colorado.”

“Oh, I love the Rocky Mountains! They make me homesick sometimes.”

“Yeah, they’re pretty great. Have you hiked a fourteener, yet?”

“Yes, yes. Princeton and Kit Carson so far. But I love the whole Front Range, as well. So beautiful!”

“Well, thank you. Maybe someday I’ll get out to Molyxal and visit the clixonite caves. I hear they’re stunning.”

“Yes, yes. Rather like your own Lechugilla cave system,” she nodded enthusiastically.

They nodded politely at each other.

“Excuse me, I get off here.”

Rigel nodded as she got off at the home décor junction.

The Beastie Boys were “disrupting the whole scene” over the music waves now. Rigel grinned at the ironic humor of hearing that song here and stepped off the mover at the flower junction. You could smell the fresh greenness of it before you even got there. Like a botanical greenhouse.

Cacti were everywhere because all the exoplanets were primarily rocky. Earth alone, as far as the Molies knew, was the only planet mostly covered by water. It was a good thing succulents were so popular on Earth.

Some of the cacti were truly strange. A large dark green cactus hung draping stems down off a high shelf, filled with lobes that looked creepily like bumpy human fingers. A pot of tall yellow and purple spikes that gave off a faint odor of kerosene stood nearby. Rigel didn’t know who would want that one. One table had little pots of a bright red, coral-like cactus. They were so alien it was unsettling. They leaned visibly toward warmth and so were called “Hearth Cacti.” Even the warmth of your hand could draw the branches near to you.

A tall cactus in the corner stood over six feet tall. It looked like overlapping green fish scales topping one another vertically and was tipped with the softest, fleeciest white fuzz. Rigel had no idea where that came from but thought Halley would like it. He’d have to remember to mention it to her.

Reaching the racks of buckets, Rigel found the flowers. Roses of course were there, filling their room with their comforting grandmotherly scent. And there were the snapdaisies that Halley loved some much. He chose a bouquet for her and then leaned over to smell the purple-pink astermites and reddish-green chah flowers. A floral swirl of lemon, mint, and baby powder.

Walking back toward the people mover, Rigel saw an unfamiliar green cylindrical plant in a terra cotta pot. The cylinder was hollow and above a thin stem hung a purple hood. He leaned close to see if it had a smell when suddenly the purple hood slapped at his nose, leaving a sticky purple residue on his skin that stung a bit.

“Ow!” he said.

Someone coming up behind him chuckled. “Careful there.” The voice was male and deep. “That’s a biter. Rather like your pitcher plants.”

“I see,” said Rigel, wiping the stinging goo off his nose.

This Molie was very tall and was wearing an Astrophel uniform. His name tag declared his name to be Birt.

“Thanks, Birt,” Rigel nodded at his tag. “Am I in any danger from the goo?”

Birt laughed. “No, no. You’ll be okay. Flies may be attracted to your face for a bit, but that’s about it.”

“Ick. Okay. Thanks for the heads up.”

Birt chuckled deeply. Rigel could almost feel a vibration in his chest from the basso tone.

“Have a good day, sir.”

Rigel got back on the people mover and headed to the frozen section. Of all sections in Astrophel’s this was the strangest. Meat from other planets was rather outside Rigel’s comfort zone. He was a big fan of steak, but cuts of meat from blue thorsers or yellow knobbed manglefish was a bit off-putting. The powers-that-be of Astrophel’s had quickly realized this hesitation in most Earthlings regarding off-planet meat and had installed a Japanese-style grill in a nearby kiosk. They handed out samples according to the sales and many Earthlings had grown more comfortable as time passed.

Today the Molie grill master had yakitori sticks of purple meat glazed with an earthly barbeque sauce. The smoky scent drew Rigel to the grill before he had time to think about it.

“Hello, good sir,” rumbled the grill master. “Would you care to try a sample?”

“Ah. Can you tell me about the meat?”

“Surely, surely. We have here a prime cut of cubed wasson deer fresh from Molyxar. Have you ever tried it before?”

“No,” said Rigel. His hesitation was clear on his face. “Fresh” from Molyxar was still months-long in space deepfreeze.

“Well, sir. That’s alright, that’s alright. I would compare it to a heavily marbled steak. The wasson deer are the fattest animals you’ll find in the wild, and to be honest should be eaten sparingly. The meat is also known to be rather stimulating and should not be consumed with alcohol.”

“That’s…interesting.”

“Please, give it a try. Make a good story to tell at home.” And he handed a small stick with three small glazed purple cubes of wasson deer meat.

Heart racing more than standing still called for, Rigel pulled a cube off the stick with his stick and reluctantly began to chew. The meat practically melted in his mouth. Definitely gamey in the same way as venison but deeper, more smokey. It paired very well with the barbeque sauce that Rigel already knew so well.

He relaxed and smiled at the grill master. “Hey thank you, this is very good.”

“Wonderful, sir. On sale for 22 riels a pound, just down the aisle from here.”

“Wow, okay, thank you.”

Rigel quickly finished his sample and tossed the stick in the little trash bin. He nodded and left. Time for ice cream.

Moonberry ice cream was neither from the moon nor the berry. But Ben and Jerry’s had gotten on board with the interplanetary ice cream game and everyone was familiar with their creative naming. The moonberry ice cream came from Molyxar, too. As they had no cows it was not a dairy product, but Earthlings were able to make the product connection more easily under that name. Instead of cows, this ice cream was a plant product mixed with Molyxan redfruit and Earthling sugar. The “ice cream” plant was a heavy, white, waxen plant found in deep caves. It secreted a milky substance – rather like milkweed on Earth – that could be harvested like maple syrup. Ben and Jerry got on board with the plant’s farmers to make this new dairy-free ice cream. As if another dairy alternative were even necessary, scoffed Rigel mentally. But, moonberry was Halley’s favorite.

After all, what man wouldn’t go to the moon to get ice cream for his pregnant wife?

Rigel grabbed three tubs of the ice cream, ignoring the price tag entirely. Anything for Halley.

Forty-five minutes later, Rigel walked into the house with the cloth Astrophel bags. Halley practically pounced on him. He couldn’t hand her a spoon fast enough. Sharing a spoonful of the sweet, berry-esque ice cream with him, they fell onto a couch and Rigel relaxed.

Overhead the moon gleamed, with a twinkle where Astrophel’s must have been.