Hawkers

The din of conversations in dozens of languages and hawkers, the scents of seared meat, vegetables, grains, and unknowable ingredients, together with the vibrant colors and varied body-plans of the multitude of species washed over Mara in a tsunami of sensory overload.

“Well?” Kintari asked. He was a munerin, a small, fuzzy creature with a segmented body, twelve compound eyes, a soft, beak-like mouth, and a pair of expressive anntenae. He stretched to move his head up to her waist level, antennae in a questioning pose.

“You were right, K.” Mara was average height at 165 centimeters, with the kind of long, thin build that came from a childhood spent in dance and gymnastics. Her orangish-red hair was pulled back into a wavy ponytail. She keyed a transaction into her comm device and sent it to his. “I love this. Worth losing a bet over, that’s for sure.”

“I haven’t fulfilled it yet,” he said, his antennae waving. “I promised the most memorable meal, and you haven’t even eaten.”

“Don’t have to. This is already it.” Mara scanned the stalls. She didn’t recognize a single item. “How do I know what’s safe to eat?”

“Follow me.” Kintari wove through the crowd with a grace that didn’t match his stubby legs and round abdomen. Mara found it hard to keep up with him in the crowd where bodies ranged from the size of Kintari up to behemoths that reminded her of feathered dragons, nearly three meters tall.

After working her way through the crowd, she found Kintari standing at one of the stalls. His antennae were swishing about in anticipation. “Mara! Look at these.”

The stall was serving what looked like a white carrot with an orange sea anemone where the greens should be. “Uh, what is it?”

“Riiki-tano. It’s a delicacy from my home world.”

“Animal, plant or fungus?”

“Kind of animal, kind of plant,” Kintari said. “It grows from a seed, sets down the big taproot in the arsenic-rich, hot volcanic mud. The top part is meaty, and what it uses to pull nutrients it can’t get from the mud in, including small creatures.”

“It grows in arsenic, and you eat it?”

“We do. We have an organ specific to filtering out heavy metals. But that’s not why I wanted you to see this. Put your ident chip close to the box there.”

She did as he’d said and the box displayed the menu, consisting of the one item prepared three ways. All three flashed deep red.

“The shorter the wavelength, the safer it is for your physiology. That way you know what’s safe based on the amount of risk you wish to take. This is…possibly fatally toxic for you.”

“That’s too bad,” she lied, “I wanted to try your home world delicacy.”

“If you still want to try something from my home world, I’m getting some tano-lokaro. It’s a plant, and no heavy metals.”

Mara followed Kintari to another stand where he picked up one of the dishes they offered. When the box responded in violet, she ordered two, one with a whitish sauce and the other with a green sauce. From there it was a weaving journey between the stalls, buying things that looked promising, until she realized she already had too much food.

They sat at one of the communal tables. Kintari had even more food than she did. She started with the tano-lokaro. The taste reminded her of kohlrabi and mushrooms with a hint of a peppery aftertaste. The whitish sauce was bland, but the green sauce had an astringent tang to it. “This is really good, but why didn’t you get the other thing?”

“The riiki-tano?” He shuddered. “I ate it once, and I never have to do it again. I think people eat it just for bragging rights or something. I refuse to believe any munerin actually likes it, but they’ll keep buying it and eating it forever.”

Mara noticed a fair bit of attention on her as she tried each dish. As perhaps the first human they’d seen, she was an obvious target of curiosity.

“I noticed that every stand makes only one thing. Is that just a traditional thing or…?”

“Regulations. Limiting each stall to one item spreads sales across more vendors.”

“Makes sense, I guess.”

Much to Mara’s surprise, Kintari finished every bite of his pile of food. They dropped the disposables in the recycler and Kintari moved as if to leave, but Mara stopped him.

“I want to wander the entire thing,” she said.

They did, taking their time. Mara made a mental map of the market as they went, taking note of things she wanted to try. When they’d explored the market, they walked back out to the main station, where the quiet felt both comforting and overwhelming after the hubbub.

“Thanks for taking the time, K. You don’t mind me calling you K, do you?”

“Not at all.”

“Not many cargo pilots would take the time to lead a stranger around a station. Not to mention make good on a bet to a species you’ve never seen before about an unforgettable meal.”

“The most unforgettable meal.”

“You delivered.” Mara sighed. “I guess I should get my bags from the bay lockers and find a place to stay.”

“You’ve decided to stay on the station? I thought you said you were exploring — station hopping.”

“I was, but I think I found my new home.” Mara smiled. “I saw some empty stalls in the food market, and I want to set up a chippy.”

“I don’t know what that is, but I wish you luck.”

“When you come back to this station, look for me in the food market. If I’m set up by then, I’ll give you something truly memorable.”

#

By the time Kintari had returned to the station, Mara’s chip stand was in full swing. With every species that had come by — so far — the box showed anywhere from greenish blue to violet. As such, there were people of every known species stopping by for what had become famous by word-of-mouth.

Mara saw him waiting in the line, his antennae fluttering. She turned to the be-tentacled creature behind her that was operating three fryers and stuffing paper wrappers for two other orders at the same time.

“Hey, Lindl, do you think you can handle the crowd by yourself for a bit?”

“Yeah, boss.” One of her twelve eyestalks turned to look directly at Mara. “I’m in a rhythm now. Is that your pilot friend you were talking about?”

“Sure enough. I’m pulling two orders, one mayo, one red and one green chutney. I’ll be back after we eat.”

She took the paper cones and walked down the line to where Kintari waited. “Come on, let’s get a seat.”

“But I haven’t checked my ident for—”

“I have munerin customers every day. You have any unusual allergies?”

“No.”

“Perfect. Let’s eat.”

“What are these?”

“Potatoes. They’re a tuber — a kind of node that grows on the root of a specific plant.”

He started with a plain chip and squirmed in his seat. He followed up with dipping a chip in the mayo. “This is rich. What is this?”

“Eggs and oil, mostly.” She explained the mayo, then the tamarind chutney and the cilantro chutney, and convinced him to try both together.

His first bite with the mixed chutneys made his antennae stick straight up and a shudder ran down his whole body as evidenced by the wave of fur standing on end and settling back down. He seemed at a loss for words, so Mara encouraged him to continue eating.

He’d finished both orders with no help from her in just a few minutes. “That’s…wow. No wonder your stand is so busy.”

“It almost wasn’t,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“The first few days I didn’t get any customers at all. The only chips I made were for myself.”

“What changed?”

“I was ready to call it a bust, so I started frying up chips and offering them free. Before I knew it, I was out of stock and had to close until the next shipment came in. By the time they did, I had a line before I even turned on the fryers.

“Hired Lindl, the tentacle woman — I can’t pronounce her species — that day. She seemed fascinated with the process, so I offered her a job, and she’s rocked it ever since.”

“What are your shipping prices like?”

“Fair, I guess. I go through around a thousand kilos of potatoes a week — 1,644.87 standard cargo weights. And that doesn’t include paper, mayo, chutneys, ketchup, and so on. Call it two thousand every Earth week — so every nine unit cycles. And it’s all coming from Earth.”

“How much are you paying?”

“Four-thousand credits per week.”

Kintari’s antennae spread to the sides. “Hmmm. One of the small carriers?”

“Yeah, same one a lot of the stalls are using.” Mara shrugged. “I mean, there’s just not much call for Earth freight out here…other than me.”

He pulled out his comm and began scrolling through data screens. “I bet I can get your freight here, two-thousand weight, every nine cycles, for under two-thousand credits.”

“Really? You like to gamble, huh?”

“I do.”

“Fifty credits again?”

“No. If I can’t, I’ll pay your entire next cargo fee. If I can, a free order of chips every time I come here.”

“You’re on.”

Mara went back to work, sparing an occasional glance at the munerin pilot talking to several other hawkers. The food market closed for the cycle, and she sent Lindl home while she cleaned up and prepared for the next.

Kintari approached. “If you give me your shipment details, I’ll have your orders here for 1,800 credits every nine cycles.”

“How?”

“Larger ship, and instead of just picking up one order at Earth and delivering, I can pick up orders for twelve other stalls. Means I can run out here with a full ship and return with a full ship of ore every trip.”

Mara laughed. “Once again, I’m glad I lost a bet to you.”

His antennae dipped. “My pleasure.”

“Wait a minute…how many of the other twelve hawkers did you make the same bet with?”

His antennae bobbed up and down. “All of them.”