Two ships, one Phlorian, one Human, both badly damaged. Two pods, only two survivors, one from each ship, crash land on a planet. It has a breathable atmosphere, but nothing for the Human to eat. The Phlorian decides to help so the human doesn't die, hope the Human likes hair, sorta. -- Anon Guest
The meat being was very useful, Valmys had to admit. He could use the environment, improvise weapons, and otherwise hunt or trap the fast things that she could eat. There was one problem.
The Human could not eat anything on this rock. Their food supply, and their nutrition printer, were both waning.
Valmys tried to help, loaning what compatible technology she could spare from her own ruined pod. She even went to the scattered craters of the crash zones for materials, parts, or anything useful. She could regenerate faster than the Human, after all.
There was only so much that could be done. Most of it was behind the Human's back.
The first idea came to her when her headfronds became annoyingly inconvenient. She had wanted to cut them for some time. And there were shears. And she knew that anything that came off a Phloran was both edible and tasty to the meatfolk.
One being's gross is another's pleasurable...
She lopped her headfronds as close to her scalp as she could, and fed the entire mess into the Human's molecular disassembler before he could return from the hunt.
If he noticed, he never said anything.
The second was a tumour, painfully removed and the scar sealed before the Human could return. Kept on ice overnight, the disassembler still accepted it.
Wandering into rad zones with minimal protection had its price. Keeping the Human alive had its cost. Valmys wasn't exactly eager to pay it, but... they were both alive.
Human Qays always helped with the cooking in the evening. Roasting a beast over the open fire. It served a psychological need. As he turned the spit, close to the window that the comms alleged they'd be rescued, he said, "I know what you've been doing. You can quit now."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Bandage over your left hip. Wrappings on your right wrist. Powers know how many sockets you have in your torso, by now. The haircut. You've been chopping bits out of yourself to feed me. They're coming, soon. You can quit."
"Will you be going without?"
A twitch of a smirk. "I've been... minimising my rations. To stretch what's there. I have lost a few pounds, no lie. And I'm not in danger. There's enough to see me to the end of the largest time span they've given us. We'll be okay. You can quit."
Since it was a time of confession... "I also know about your bodily effluvium. What's waste and distasteful to you is... somewhat nutritious for me."
"Flakk, I thought I was being sneaky."
"I noticed the discrepancy in the supply levels."
"Same." The spit creaked, and sparks flew up from the fire into the night sky. Human and Phloran shared a look. It said, We will not speak of this again.
A strange truce, but one that kept them both alive until they were safe.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / Ruslanchik]
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