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Mavericks, daredevils, risk-takers… and outcasts.

This was the kind of people who signed up for interstellar travels. They were brave people, but every soul had their quirks, and the crew aboard the Stargonaut was no exception:

Navigator Johansen loved sniffing his own farts when he was decompressing in the airlocks.

Roger Keane was a hothead with a itchy trigger-finger.

Ben Stokes couldn't resist nibbling on plant samples from other planets. A near-fatal habit that had already cost him three trips to the sick-bay.

And Captain Braelyn had caught Jazeel Baker smoking marijuana in the lower observation deck. That kid just didn't give a damn.

-and myself?

Captain Braelyn sighed. Where did the list even begin. He'd been arrested so many times on Earth, that space seemed like the only place left to go, where he wouldn't get into legal trouble.

“Alright," Braelyn said. “Tell navigation to change course. We're heading for Sül, gentlemen."

Once the door had closed behind the captain, Science officer Trevor Nielsen fed the data to the paper shredder. One by one, page by page, the machine turn the pile of printouts into ribbons. The last page to go, was something he had left in the printer on purpose. The single page contained only five lines:

Animal life : None detected

Plant life : None detected

DNA content: None detected

RNA content: None detected

Mineral content: 100%

---

So, this is what Sül is all about?

Roger Keane ran a finger across the rough surface of the cube-like structure. It was built from square blocks of a substance that looked and felt like good-old Earth concrete. The architectonic style was unremarkable, its design simple and functional. Two glass doors marked an entrance. A large sign embossed with fading white symbols hung above the long forgotten front door.

Keane did not recognize the writing, but the layout of the building, and paved space outside, bore a striking resemblance to any everyday shopping mall on Earth. If this had been back in California, the building could have passed for an ugly Q-mart.

Alien or not, the plain building looked like the place, locals would stop to buy groceries on their way back from work. Nothing more. Yet he found little trace of the place actually having seen much use. Apart from the sign above the entrance, there were no other outside posters, banners advertisements or price-tags, but most importantly -no signs of shoppers, past or present. No sign of life. It wasn't just the barren parking lot, or the complete lack of customers that added to the sense of desolation. The whole place felt unfinished, abandoned or simply forgotten. It was as if the invisible construction team had a sudden change of heart, packed up and went home for an eternal lunch-break.

Keane waited by the entrance for minutes, listening. The inside was cast in darkness and an eerie sense of abandon leaked from the open door. He drew his pistol and stepped into the main corridor. Keane's eyes quickly adjusted to the dim light pouring in from the skylights, and the sound of his own solitary footsteps echoing off the walls.

The inside too, was the bare-bones of an unfinished mall. Every storefront was empty and featureless. In one store it seemed, the builders had put some effort into making the place come alive. The simple square room had been fitted with a window facing the hall, and a door-frame - still without a door. A dusty, wooden box on the floor contained six glass bottles, four of which were empty. The remaining two contained a pale yellow liquid. All bottles carried the same label; a simple drawing of two organic stalks, ripe with some kind of seed or kernel. Keane did not recognize the writing as anything he'd seen on earth or elsewhere. He opened one of the two full bottles and sniffed the liquid inside. Organic notes of sour and bitter reached his nose.

Beer? He thought. Holy crap! This planet has beer.

If Kirsten Brewster ever found out how Keane leisurely tampered with alien foodstuff, before proper lab-work and analysis was carried out, she would have a professional fit. But so far, Keane had met no danger from anything on this alien planet, maybe except the curious lack of anything alien.

Then he took a small sip from the bottle.

The drink was watery and nearly tasteless, much like a Miller Lite, only diluted to homeopathic concentrations. Maybe it was past expiry date, or maybe the locals on Sül had an heightened sense of taste, but to human senses, this was … bland. Like everything else on Sül, even their beer was bland and unremarkable.

Outside, Keane sat down by a pile of rocks and stuffed the one remaining beer into his trouser pocket. The other bottle of beer had quenched his thirst, and Keane burped content while the twin suns, now hiding behind a methane cloud gave off a snooze-inducing warmth. For the first time since the crash, Keane allowed himself to relax. Sure, this place was alien, but in a homely, comforting way.

Now what?

A slight movement among the rocks made him aware he was no longer alone. He reached for his pistol and spun around, only to find a lizard, the size of a dog waddling slowly across the barren parking lot. Its gray tongue flicking now and then. The animal paid no attention to Keane, but continued its lazy crawl across the sand.

One bullet, Keane thought. I shot something while I was recovering from post-cryo confusion.

One of you guys, maybe?

Keane cocked his pistol and aimed at the lizard.

Time for target practice.

---

Keane found Kirsten Brewster in the cafeteria. She was sitting at a table, making pencil drawings of wildlife on a sheet of paper.

“It's a snake?" Keane asked.

“Bothrops Titanicus," she replied. “A pit viper, native only to Titan. Its venom kills you in less than a minute."

Keane chuckled. “What happened to drawings of happy little trees and horses running free?"

Kirsten put her pen down. “I guess is IS kinda funny, but I've studied these creatures for so long, I can draw them from memory."

Keane studied the drawing. The viper was half an arm's length, and looked like any gray snake you found on Earth. Only, this guy had six eyes arranged in two rows of three eyes each. Two nasty looking fangs protruded from the creature's mouth.

“Anyway," he said.

“I brought you a little something on your birthday."

When Kirsten gave him a puzzled look, Keane carefully took out a small square box from his pocket. Inside, Kirsten found a pendant watch on a silver chain. The watch case was made from brown metal alloy and inlaid with a detailed mosaic of a large tree with branches reaching out and exploding into a multitude of tiny green leaves. The brown trunk and branches were crafted from shards of brown pietersite from Earth, the green leaves from even tinier slivers of vitellium, mined on Dvorák nine, and the changing blue sky from microscopic azurite crystals from Titan.

“Careful," Keane said. “It's hand made."

Kirsten put the watch to her ear. Instead of the familiar ticking sound, the watch emitted a faint hum at precisely 528 Hz; an audio frequency revered by the Titan natives as “the frequency of love."

“It's beautiful."

Kirsten cocked her head and looked at him quizzingly. “But why ? We barely know each other."

Keane shrugged. “Syrte is still a long way. It takes two to break the silence and the loneliness in space."

“Two to cut the journey in half ?" Suggested Kirsten. “Like two peas in a cryo pod?"

“We've got plenty of time…," Keane said.

“So much time to kill."

---

Two bullets slammed into the lizard, sending the creature reeling. It hissed and clawed the ground, then collapsed and stayed motionless. Only its labored breathing and occasional eye twitch proved the creature was still alive. Thick, syrupy blood the color of coffee, oozed from the wound. As Keane knelt by the dying lizard, he was met by a powerful smell of pine-tar.

So, blood was not iron based on this planet. God, would Kirsten ever have a field day, examining this guy.

Minutes later, the lizard stopped breathing. Slowly, its skin turned colorless, then white. White and grainy like the surrounding sand. Crystalline salt flowed off of the corpse, like grains dropping off a drying sand castle. One dry droplet after another, the dead lizard merged with the soil. First its leathery hide turned to sand, then sinew and bones. Coffee-colored veins turned white and withered into small snaky spirals that piled up like sand-worm droppings. Within minutes, the lizard blended in perfectly with the ground, its putrification silent and complete.

Keane scooped up a handful of the sand that had once been a lizard leg. He let it run through his fingers.

So much for bringing a DNA sample back.

He wiped his hands and were about to leave, when a living eye suddenly poked out from the same pile of sand and winked at him, Keane flew two steps back with a howl that echoed off the rocks. On closer inspection, the eye was set in a socket of wrinkled skin, like that of a chameleon. As Keane moved, the eye kept fixing its stare at him. Carefully, Keane dug into the sand and discovered another reptile. It looked exactly like the lizard he had shot, moments ago. Only, this one was much smaller; the size of a squirrel. It looked helpless, stuck in the sand. Its toothless maw kept opening and closing, as if gasping for air. The creature looked so pitiful and helpless, Kean kneeled to dig it out of the sand. If he couldn't bring a dead specimen back to the lab, surely he'd bring them a live one.

The sound of an approaching motor vehicle coming from the far side of a sandy ridge, interrupted his digging. Keane realized the engine was the only sound he had heard on this silent planet since he arrived, save the soft scratching of lizards clawing sand, and the roar his own pistol. He crouched behind the pile of rocks, cradling the small lizard in his arms.

Moments later, a four-wheeled vehicle came to a halt on top of the ridge. The rider was a humanoid creature. It was fully dressed and male, much like Keane. The rider parked his vehicle and walked towards the pile of rocks, in no hurry and with no apparent interest. He was slender and stood a head taller than Keane, but had no obvious features that made him stand out as an alien species. His eyes were blue, his skin pale, his hair an unruly mop of flaxen strands. Every feature about the stranger was perfectly human.

-or near perfect.

The stranger was lacking in finer features. Although he must have been in his late thirties, he showed no signs of wrinkles or lines around the mouth. He had no visible scars - not as much as a single mole or skin-imperfection.

Without a word, the stranger lifted the small lizard out of Keane's embrace. He squatted in the sand, and buried the living animal with his hands. Then, he turned to look at Keane.

“You shouldn't uproot them until they're fully regrown," the stranger said.

Keane was speechless. Not only was the stranger near humanoid. He also spoke Terran, with only the faintest hint of an accent. The stranger wiped sand off his hands and looked at Keane.

“You're lost." The stranger stated the obvious.

“With a little luck I'm not the only one lost. We were 600 people on our ship."

The stranger whistled. “You're one of those space-ship guys?"

“You've…. Seen our ship?"

“Sure," said the stranger. “It's not an easy thing to miss. Large as a city."

The stranger nodded toward his vehicle."Get in the back seat, I'll drive you there."

When Keane hesitated, the stranger held out his hand in an earth-like hand-shake. “I'm Be'Ke"

“Roger," Keane replied, after some hesitation. “Roger Keane."

The invitation seemed in earnest, and having no map, Keane gratefully accepted the ride.

“Large as a City?" Keane couldn't help laughing. Of course they had cities on Sül, even though he hadn't seen one yet. The planet was bound to have cities with people in them, people who were not too damn foreign and not too damn alien. But most importantly, they seemed friendly. “

“City?" Be'Ke looked at Keane, slightly confused.

“What's a city?"

---

“Funny, isn't it?"Sgt. Jazeel Baker took a puff of his Starfields cigarette. He looked wistfully out of the porthole and into the swirling Canis Major galaxy. “I joined the astroforce to get away from New Bronx. Now I miss the old girl. Man! Our shopping centers were open 24/7. You could buy anything around the clock. And I do mean anything."

“New Bronx? You're crazy," Johansen said. “Give me Colorado, any day."

With its low radiation count and the vast ghost town of Denver to explore, Colorado had grown to be one of the main tourist attractions in the surviving USA. The adventurous archaeologist's wettest dream, Denver offered one hundred and fifty square miles of abandoned buildings and overgrown streets. An urban explorer could walk Denver for weeks without ever meeting another fellow human, all trying to imagine what it was like to live here, three hundred years ago, or collecting antique trinkets to sell on the black market.

Kirsten Brewster sat down next to Keane. “I'll take Titan," she said. “Okay, so you can't go outside the colonies, without the vipers snapping at your heels, but I used to dream about skiing down the blue mountains of frozen methane." She took out the pocket watch Keane had given her, and ran her fingers across the embossed mosaic on the case, tracing the patterns and feeling every tiny leaf.

“I also miss the trees on Earth," she said.

Kirsten rested her head on Keanes's shoulder and sighed deeply. She put the watch to her ear., listening to the soft 528 Hz hum.

“The hum of the watch makes me feel less homesick."

Keane planted a kiss on her forehead.

“Anything, for you" Keane replied. “Anything in the unknown universe."

“How about…California?" a familiar voice suddenly echoed through the cafeteria. Captain Braelyn appeared from the darkened corridor. He was off-duty, wearing civilian clothes. He was barefooted and carrying two beer bottles in his hand. Casually waving Jazeel's cigarette smoke away, he sat down on the bench next to the others and looked into the nebulae outside the window.

“Me and my buddies would drive up to Needles to party. Get a case of beer from the Starvin' Darwin on seventh, and head into the desert. Car radio on full blast."

Jazeel, Keane, Johansen and Kirsten looked at their captain in disbelief.

“Stop gawking," he said “I wasn't born a captain, you know. I had a life on Earth, just like you."

Braelyn opened the two bottles. He put one on the table and held the other to his lips.

“Here's to space, and to planet Sül"

The captain took one long gulp from his beer and held up the bottle, in a mock toast toward the dark void outside.

“-and to what we may find there."

Still intimidated by the presence of authority, Jazeel Baker was the first to reach for the remaining bottle of beer. He put it to his mouth and took a gulp, before passing the beer around.

“Beer!" He grinned, licking his lips. “It's been light-years."

“Pure Ambrosia," Johansen said dreamily and traced the two stalks of barley on the label with an unwashed finger. “Drinking beer in outer space. This is one moment I'll never forget."

The captain laughed. “I'd have synthesized more if I knew we were having a party."

Kirsten wrinkled her nose and waved the bottle away.

“I don't like beer," she said. “And what about protocol? What about regulations?"

“Nobody's perfect," replied the captain. “Screw protocol for once. That's an order."

“You're wrong," Keane thought." Kirsten IS perfect. Just take one look at her."

---

The wheels of the speeding ATV send crystalline sand flying as Keane and the Be'Ke plowed their way across the vast desert of Sül. They had been driving for more than an hour, seeing nothing but white dunes of sand, and the occasional yucca. The slender Be'Ke had not spoken a single word since their journey began. It was as if he didn't know he had a passenger in the back -or maybe he didn't care.

Keane didn't miss conversation. Be'Ke might not be the most talkative alien in the universe, but he seemed harmless enough. Friendly, even. Still, something in the back of his mind made him uneasy, riding with the alien. Sure, Be'Ke knew about Sül and the ways of the planet. He knew about the Stargonaut, and he was giving Keane a ride back. He had given Keane some kind of advice about uprooting lizards, though he still didn't understand what that was all about. He had no reason to dislike or distrust the accommodating Be'Ke, but despite his friendliness, Keane felt at edge, and he looked forward to seeing Be'Ke driving away in a cloud of exhaust smoke.

The familiar outline of the Stargonaut was now in plain sight, about two miles away. Keane's tense muscles unwound, and he relaxed into the back seat. Two humanoid figures approached them on foot and Be'Ke stopped the vehicle to greet the newcomers. One was a male that looked much like Be'Ke. Only, this newcomer was about ten years older. He wore the same clothes as Be'Ke and sported the same uncombed hairstyle. His face, however, was closer to that of a human, than Be'Ke. They shared almost identical features, but the new stranger looked more organic. It was all in the details. Maybe it was the hint of a scar, a few freckles or a beauty spot.

The other was a female alien. She too was humanoid, but shorter than the males. Even by Earth standards, she was pretty, with curly, auburn hair and brown eyes. Her skin was light colored, almost to the point of being pale, but like that of Be'Ke, her skin showed no sign of aging or scarring. No blemishes, no tattoos and no moles or imperfections. But what startled Keane the most were her breasts. This alien creature, thirty light years from Earth had surprisingly human breasts.

So, they're mammals, like us, was his first reaction.

But there was more to it, than he allowed himself to think. He was a man, stranded alone on a strange planet. She was a woman, and a pretty one at that, and Keane felt a familiar sensation growing inside him. He knew those breasts. Instinctively, he knew what they would feel like, under his caressing hands.

Be'Ke gave the two strangers a short nod, before starting the vehicle and driving off.

In the back seat, Keane shook his head and giggled. Calm down, he told himself. They're alien creatures. Sure, they had a fleeting resemblance with the human race, but you had to be pretty desperate to get the hots for a bipedal creature from planet Sül, thirty light years from home. Still, Keane found the alien female strangely attractive. No, not attractive. It was something more than simple, physical attraction. A tidal wave of memories suddenly washed over him in a flash. He knew that face, he knew the tone of her voice and he knew what it felt to kiss those lips.

“STOP!" Keane shouted, and Be'Ke stomped on the brakes, bringing the ATV to a skidding halt.

“That's Kirsten."

“Kirsten?" Be'Ke asked puzzled.

She's perfect, Keane thought. How could he had forgotten? Maybe Kirsten would never grace the front page of Vogue, standing only five feet tall. But this auburn haired Scotswoman had a mellow sweetness to her, and carried a smile to die for. Keane leaped from his seat and rushed back to the two walking creatures.

“Kirsten?" He shouted. “Wait up."

The female alien looked at Keane with slight amusement.

“What's a Kirsten?" she asked.

“Are you… alright?" Keane asked.

The woman looked at her arms, then her legs. Keane looked at her breasts.

“I'm perfectly well," she replied in near perfect Terran. “Thank you."

Keane rubbed his forehead. Of course this was not Kirsten. Like the other natives of this planet, this female had a fleeting, if passable resemblance to humans. From what he had seen, they had the same basic body parts as terrans, but devoid of any details.

“You reminded me of someone else…" he said. “Someone I used to love."

“I'm sorry," said the female, “But I'm already mated to Esto, here. And you're not him."

She took the male native by the hand and gave it a short squeeze. Esto smiled back at the woman and nodded farewell to Keane and Be'Ke, before continuing their journey.

Silently, Keane watched the two aliens walking away.

Post-cryo confusion sure played tricks on your mind. It wasn't until he met this native girl he even recalled what Kirsten looked like. He only remembered she was pretty. No more than pretty. The Kirsten he knew was damn near perfect, Not like this alien creature.

But it would all come back.

Eventually, everything always comes back.

---