"Good morning, it is 2173 local time. The sun is rising over the horizon. Please have your mask ready and put it on in 0025 or the pressurisation will be stopped."

It took a few moments to separate dream from reality. Moreover, the dream had been much nicer than the small capsule cabin he was in.

"Good morning, it is 2174 local time. The sun has now risen by 0.1."

"Stop." He tried to sit up, but there was no room. He could only prop up his shoulders with his elbows. Where was the mask? Ah, there. The display only showed 0300 left, which meant the SCBA would need recharging soon. "Ok, I wear the mask." He relaxed a little more, as much as he could in this small capsule and on the rather hard mattress and dozed a little more during the countdown. As the cabin pressure dropped, the one on his bladder increased. And there was little distraction, the only display at the top was no bigger than the palm of his hand. It could barely show the countdown and the current time in a readable size.

So he waited. Finally, the countdown reached zero and the hatch lock turned. It did not open, so he pushed the hatch with his legs. With a faint hiss, it swung open. The pressure sensors throughout the ship seemed to be slightly off. Nothing he could change, at least they still worked. But first the toilet.

"Blackbeard, light please," he called as he tapped through the dark mess.

The light came on. Lalleli was not there, but the cargo hatch was still open. He quickly went into the toilet. At least with the mask, it was an odourless experience.

Now that his primal needs were satisfied, his stomach demanded attention.

"Blackbeard, how long can I breathe the atmosphere?" he muttered under the mask.

"0025 before you die, with getting probably unconscious after 0017."

Great. But he was starving. So he drank two cups of soup. With the lower boiling point and the cold air coming in, they were at drinking temperature in no time. He took off the masks, drank one cup and put them back on. Apart from everything smelling like recycled Kranta, no problems. So he repeated it with the second cup. Also fine.

Now he was as ready as he could be to face another few hours on this miserable planet. To be honest, no planet had ever caught his interest. He could not imagine living here like a dirt dweller.

He went into the cargo hold. Lalleli was sleeping on a large mattress in one of the compartments. That made sense, except for the lack of a blanket. She was wearing only his largest but thin sweater, but her breath was puffing clouds into the cold air.

"Lalleli?" he whispered. But it was impossible to whisper in the mask.

"Blackbeard, cargo hold lights on, night mode."

The light only accentuated the dark corners of the hold.

Either from his command or the light: Lalleli's long, bushy tail twitched. She opened one eye, mumbled something and was wide awake a second later. "Oh, good morning, Ouch." She had hit her head, just like the first time she woke up. Cursing, she pulled herself backwards out of the compartment, her three-digit hooves gripping the metal bars as if it were natural. He tried not to stare.

She yawned again. "Too early. But I slept well. Did you?"

"I had to sleep in my capsule with the hatch closed. The atmosphere is deadly to me. And it is too cold."

"Oh," was her only reaction, "yes, indeed, a bit chilly. Let's get out and catch some rays."

The small and faint orange sun was still close to the horizon. It did not provide any noticeable warmth. But where it shone, the fine white frost on the plants was gone.

"What a beautiful day."

"I'm cold," he shivered.

She turned to him. "You said my fur was warm. Is it still warm?" She took his hand and buried it behind her lower back, in the fur on her front shoulder.

He blushed hard. What could he say? "It is warm," he admitted.

"So something I can do for you. Come on, snuggle into the fur."

When he hesitated, she picked him up and placed him on her lower body without any effort. "Come on, you have to fly us back. Please don't freeze to death. Get warm, I don't mind."

Half lying on her back, he hesitated to move at all, feeling her lungs expanding and her leg muscles twitching. While Lalleli was not as large as Lart and his crew, her lower back was almost the size of his sleeping capsule. But she was so much warmer and softer. "Thank you," he murmured through the mask, finally relaxing on her back.

"Careful, I will move." And she walked slowly, straight towards the table with yesterday's buffet. But even he could feel how hard she tried to walk as levelly as possible. And since he was lying flat, there was no danger of falling. She did it just for his convenience.

The food on the table was in exactly the same condition as yesterday evening, no ants, no other insects, and of course no birds. The fragile ecosystem of the new colony was still entirely plant-based, it seemed. She happily began a hearty breakfast, ignoring her rider.

It took a few moments for her to register that her rider was tapping her for attention. "Lalleli," Marik said in his mask, "hurry, the locals are coming."

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

But they had already been spotted, had changed course and were thundering towards her. He slipped off her back.

Lalleli just stood there, quickly shoving more into her mouth.

He shook his head. They would certainly not scold her for eating.

They arrived with a small cloud of dust. He was happy about the mask, but Lalleli coughed. Now he could see again how tall they were. Even Lalleli's head was below their shoulders.

"Good morning," Lart greeted, "passenger 33, I presume. I am Lart."

"I'm not staying here." Lalleli stood in a defensive position. It was pointless. After what he had seen yesterday, they could carry her under their arms.

"Don't worry, you won't be forced to stay. What is the name of your cuteness?"

"Lalleli" Despite her cold tone, she blushed.

"Lalleli, a unique name. You would be welcome, now or later."

"No, I want to return to stop the company from turning people into this."

"Turn people into us preons without consent, you were going to say," Lart corrected.

"Consent, I mean," She stopped. "You enjoy this?"

"We were born this way. I worry more about a wobbly existence, constantly swaying like a human. And so slow."

"But as Lart said, your choice. Four humans have left us since we manned the spaceport," added the peon on the right of Lart.

"And three have returned, after further training, to work as doctors. But don't worry, you can leave. If you like, I will show you the city while your ship is being refuelled."

Before the fourth could add more support, his mask alarm sounded. "Sorry," he apologised and started to run towards the ship. But after three steps Lalleli caught up with him and put him on her back. Now she was galloping towards the ship. His arms were around her waist, half lying, bouncing up and down with each of her long, jumpy strides. He almost lost his mask with the slowly increasing shrill oxygen countdown alarm. They were up the cargo ramp in no time, her strange hooves thundering on the metal. She stopped in front of the empty rack. He slid down and stood as wobbly as Lart had described the humans. "Thanks, it was not that urgent," he finally said.

"Go, wobbly human, get your mask and your warmth," she giggled.

"Sorry." Then he went inside and quickly reached for the third mask. The first one was nearly regenerated, so he put his empty mask into the regeneration unit. In total, he had enough oxygen for a whole day outside. If he did not freeze to death before.

When he returned to the hold, the other four were already there.

"That was quick," Lart said. "So your ship has a wet cargo hold for departure."

He nodded.

"No problem, nothing new. Can you remove the dream machines from the racks?" He pointed to the display and the soft helmet-like caps.

"Dream machines? A very poetic name for brainwashing. But it should be easy and will make good evidence." He turned around to get some tools.

"Marik, I want to see the city," Lalleli called after him.

He turned again. "Yes, but you must be back before we start filling. I cannot move the hatch from the inside. And you can't get in through the side airlock."

"Are you sure? Not even like this?" She sat on her middle shoulder, her front legs folded to her sides. Her torso was almost parallel to her back, her buttocks towering at least two heads above her head, plus her tail. It was quite impressive, and he was torn between pity and laughing out loud. "No, sorry, you won't fit," was all he could say to keep from giggling.

"The disassembly will take 1500 or so," Lart said, "be back at 5000."

"Thanks! I'll be back then." And then she left with one of Lart's comrades.

"We should be done in less than 500," he said.

Lart nodded.

"But I agree, she seems so happy and it is so cramped for her inside. I'll get the tools before I freeze to death."

It turned out that he could ask Blackbeard to heat the hold a little. Even with the hatch open, it made a big difference.

The rack was gone in 0300. He had stored the dream machine parts in the second sleeping capsule in the crew area, next to the boxes with the spices.

Lart had a look inside the cabin, but he could not even enter completely. His arms were long enough to help him straighten the ladder to the cockpit and remove the remains of the table mountings. And he took out the broken table as well. Together they cut one side of one of the mattresses from the rack and laid it on the floor. It covered most of the floor, leaving just a small strip, enough to open and close the toilet/shower door. Lart then bent the tops of the two former table fittings so that he could attach the middle section of a 4D harness from the rack to them.

Lart and his two helpers were also essential in installing the flexible liquid nitrogen tank, as half of the inlets and outlets were in the ceiling. Four wrinkled plastic tubes now snaked through the hold, two under the ceiling and two on the floor. They would later be inflated, first with hydrogen gas and then with liquid hydrogen.

* * *

It was just 3775. The ground crew sat outside at the table on the grass or whatever these orange plants were, their legs folded under their bodies. He sat on Lart's back, his feet dangling to the side. The sun was high in the sky, warming him a little, enough to keep him from shivering. With the warm fur beneath him, it was almost pleasant.

The trio munched on the fresh food they had brought with them this morning. They easily ate five times as much as a human, no wonder with such large and powerful bodies.

"Would you like to try some Loman Rash Bread?" Lart held out a huge slice of bread with some kind of red creamy spread on it. It looked delicious.

"Thank you, wait a moment." He took a deep breath, took a bite and put the mask back on. It tasted good, very good. Not just because it was his first solid food in two days. It had a texture, and was spicy, all to his liking. Slowly, because he had to take the mask off, took his bite, and then put the mask on, he ate the whole slice of bread.

"That was very good. What is the green one?"

Lart laughed. "You want it extra spicy? Let's make it a little thinner to try first."

It was spicy and tasted great. The spiciness warmed him also on the inside. He was surprised because a useless fact he had heard stated that lower pressure made food taste blander.

"Where's the cream coming from?"

"Cream pears," said the one to his left. "Just squeeze the cream out and throw the skin and core away."

The food had been the best thing on this planet so far. If the spices in the crates were similar, no wonder they brought in enough money to finance the slave part of the operation. Which they would end when they reached Fallerian. Or so he hoped.

He had eaten a third slice when two preons approached them, Lalleli and her guide. They ran almost all the way to them.

"Sorry for being late," she panted.

"It's only 5163, no problem. Do you want something to eat?"

She was still breathing heavily. " Just a moment."

"We didn't eat," her guide said, spreading a thick layer of Loman Rash on his slice of bread. "We went into town and then had a very quick tour."

"Yes, it was quite nice." Lalleli still stood with her torso bent forward, her lower body pumping the thin local atmosphere through her lungs. "Maybe I will visit later."

"You will. Here, a Loman Rash bread." He handed her the slice and then started to prepare the next one.

"'Ok, Jenkin, have your lunch. We will make the final preparations. Come."

The last one was for him and the other two, so he jumped down when Lart stood up and walked towards the ship. Slow as he was, Lart had already opened a trapdoor in the runway, while the other two had just arrived with a heavy and unwieldy hose to connect the outlet for the ultra-cold liquid hydrogen from under the runway to its counterpart on the ship near the landing gear. They were really ready now, just waiting for Lalleli to finish her lunch and her last chance to use a facility designed for her body.