Nathan had grown up in a family of means. They had been one of both wealth and power for as many generations as they could trace. His father’s father had been a prominent politician, as had his father before him. Nathan knew that it had been a point of contention between himself and his father. Like all good sons had done since the time of the great bio-digital plague, Nathan’s father had expected him to follow in his footsteps and serve in elected office. But the changes that the Data Ark had sparked back on Earth had made the concept of the family line-of-succession obsolete in most circles. Structured education had once again replaced long apprenticeships in all the industrialized nations on Earth. Nathan, having grown up in such an environment, had therefore felt little compulsion to continue the family trade. In fact, he had grown to despise everything about it.
Not wanting to draw attention to himself, Nathan fought to control his excitement at all of the new sights, sounds, and smells he was experiencing. The setting, although familiar in its design and intent, was at the same time completely foreign to him. Despite the fact that most people spoke Angla, there was still a dizzying array of languages being spoken. Haven was a community of migrants who came and went with the work. Jalea had told him that less than ten percent of the population was actually born and raised on the little moon. Those that were rarely lived out their lives here. Instead, most sought escape to more prosperous worlds with the prospect of brighter futures.
Every direction his eyes wandered they caught glimpses of the cultural diversity that was Haven. Of even greater fascination was that these people had come from different worlds-from different star systems. His world had only begun to regain a sense of global community a century ago when the Data Ark had been discovered. So the idea that such a thing could exist on an interstellar scale was truly amazing. It actually gave him hope for the future of humanity. They had known that humans from Earth had built thriving civilizations on what was then referred to as the Core Worlds-systems within fifty light years of Sol. There had also been about a dozen lesser fringe worlds in development at the time the plague had swept through the core. But to his knowledge, there had never been any human colonies established beyond one hundred light years from Sol, let alone over a thousand. There had been some indications, through news footage stored in the Ark’s data banks, that a wave of unauthorized colonization attempts had occurred during the early days of the plague. Scholars studying the data had theorized that such attempts had occurred as the infrastructure of the core systems collapsed, and people that were yet uninfected had simply tried to flee-hoping to start over on pristine worlds. There had been dozens of habitable worlds charted by deep-space exploration vessels and by long-range detection systems. But again, they had all been within, at most, a few hundred light years.
Yet still, here they were, walking amongst humans who were the descendants of those very refugees that had fled the core so long ago. It was mind-boggling. Nathan wondered how the scholars back on Earth would react to this revelation. He wondered how it would affect his own history professor, Bill Jenkins, with whom Nathan had become close friends during his time as an undergraduate. They had spent many hours discussing just such theories, sometimes into the wee hours of the morning. Nathan was sure that being out here, witnessing all of this, would have delighted old Professor Williams to no end.
As they wandered farther through the crowds, they moved beyond the common trinkets and wares commonly found nearest the spaceport. They came upon a small booth selling some sort of cooked vegetable. It had a peculiar yet enticing aroma that drew Nathan to it. The smell of the vegetable as it seared in the large iron skillet of hot oil made his mouth water.
“What is this?” Nathan asked Jalea.
“That is called pompa root,” she said. “It is cooked in the oil of the tekatta.”
“Tekatta?”
“A small animal that lives in the ground. They are many on Haven. The farmers despise them, as they damage their crops.”
“And what is that?” he asked, pointing to a stack of small, cooked, squares of an off-white substance. They were almost tan in color, and also looked like they had been seared in similar fashion.
“It is called molo. It grows in great abundance here.”
“Is that the tan stuff we saw all over the place as we flew in?”
“I believe so, yes. It is a fungus that does very well in the long darkness that befalls Haven once every orbit. It is used in most of the local dishes eaten here on Haven. It is very nutritious, although some do not care for its taste or texture.”
An old woman behind the counter offered Nathan a small dish with a taste of both the pompa root and the molo, topped with a thick orange gelatinous sauce. “A taste for you, sir?” she offered.
Nathan graciously accepted the sample, plucking the pompa root from the dish and biting it. “Mmm, not bad. It tastes like a mild onion.”
“Try the molo, with the sauce,” Jalea suggested.
Nathan picked up the molo next, scooping up some of the gelatinous orange goop that lay beneath it. After sniffing it, he popped it into his mouth and began to chew tentatively. After a moment, his curious expression changed to one of approval. “That’s pretty good. Kind of a cross between a mushroom and tofu,” he explained, forgetting that Jalea would not know of any of the foods her was using for comparison. “And the sauce is like a spicy orange marmalade. Hey, Vlad!” he called out. “You’ve gotta try this!” Nathan turned to the old woman, about to indicate that he wanted to order five dishes of their food, when he realized that he had no way to pay her. He looked at Jalea, a bit embarrassed. “How do we pay her?”
“Allow me,” Jalea offered. She placed an order in the local language, immediately being handed five larger dishes filled with a mixture similar to what Nathan had just sampled. After receiving the orders, Jalea handed the woman some small, dark gray chips, gesturing for her to accept what was probably an over-payment on Jalea’s part. The old woman bowed her head respectively, thanking Jalea for her generosity.
Having all been reduced to eating dehydrated emergency rations for the last two days, they eagerly devoured the dishes of food. Vladimir, who Nathan had come to realize would eat just about anything, inhaled his portion with his usual rapidity. Danik and Jalea, both being familiar with the local cuisine, consumed their portions without hesitation. Jessica, however, did not appear as enthusiastic as the others.
“What’s the matter, Jess?” Nathan asked. “Don’t like your molo?” he asked with a grin.
“Tastes kind of like mushrooms,” she stated, trying not to complain.
“Yeah, and tofu,” Nathan exclaimed, obviously enjoying his serving much more than Jessica.
“Not exactly crazy about either one of those,” she stated, forcing herself to tolerate the unusual taste and texture of the molo. “You sure this stuff is safe for us to eat?”
“Delicious!” Vladimir announced, scooping up the last of the orange sauce with his fingers. “It reminds me of the cooked cabbage my grandmother used to make.”
“Maybe we should buy some of this molo? Take it up to the ship and have it analyzed. How well does it keep?” Nathan asked Jalea. He was met with a look of bewilderment. “Does it go bad quickly? Does it need to be refrigerated or something?”
“Ah, no. It is usually dried in the sun or in dehydrators. Then it remains safe to eat for a very long time. Some people will season it before dehydration and consume it later while still in its dried state.”
“Molo jerky,” Nathan joked. Again, Jalea was bewildered. “Whattaya think, Vlad?”
“What is this jerky?” Vladimir asked.
“You know, jerky. Dried strips of seasoned meat?” Nathan looked at Vladimir, who showed no sign of understanding. “Really? You’ve never heard of jerky?” Nathan shook off Vladimir’s ignorance of the concept, turning back to Jalea. “So, maybe we could buy some molo here?”
“These people only sell individual cooked servings, as do most vendors in this area. Perhaps farther down we will find someone selling larger amounts of fresh molo.”
“Lead the way, then,” Nathan agreed, turning to the old woman. “Thank you. It was very good,” he complimented, nodding respectfully as he placed his empty dish on the counter.
They spent the next half hour winding their way casually through the crowds of shoppers, trying to move in much the same manner as the locals in order to blend in, just as Tobin had recommended. The street market reminded Nathan of the week he had spent with his academy roommate Luis in his village in South America. They had spent an afternoon meandering about a street market much as this one. It had been the first time that Nathan had spent time outside of a large metropolitan area, and it had been quite a culture-shock for him. Back then, despite the fact that it had still been on his homeworld, it had been a totally alien environment to him. He found it surprising that this market-a thousand light years distant-felt no more alien to him than that village in South
