They were starving, just having crawled out from the hold of the ship they stowed away in, yet sat in the corner in the area near the shops just staring at everyone. Until a kind hand reached out to this malnourished, terrified, soul. -- Anon Guest
Britta could not find any more scraps of food on the ship. They had to get out of the walls. There were people flowing in and flowing out by various doors. They inserted themself into an outgoing chain and tried to imitate the others' walk. They were certain doom would come via authority at any moment.
Doom did not come.
They peeled away from the chain of people at the first opportunity and ran. Just ran. As far and as fast as their flagging body would allow. Until they found a concourse full of many bright colours and hundreds of milling people, and a soft seat to collapse onto.
They sold food here, and Britta did not have a single denomination to their name. They could sit, and smell the gloriously delicious smells, and try to ignore their howling stomach.
They were free. And just like Korprat said, they were free to starve alone without even a friend to hold their hand during the process. Britta didn't have enough water in them to cry about it.
There was an alien staring at them. Four arms. As round as they were tall. And... sort of orange. Clad in mostly yellow and giving off youthful vibes.
"Please don't call the cops?" said Britta. It was the only mercy they could think of.
The young alien blinked and frowned a little. "You being hunger? Self being student chef. Making much food. Self needing hunger person. You being hunger?"
Each word made sense. Sort of. Chained together like that, it took some unriddling to understand. This... this was their Galstand Simple. Right? How much of it had filtered through to the pure culture of Korprat? "Is... hunger," Britta managed. "How am pay? Having nothing." To prove their point, Britta turned out their pockets. Lint and dust spilled to the floor.
"Misunderstanding," said the alien. "Self hiring hunger person. Self paying. You eating. Yes? Good?"
It was too good to be true. There had to be a catch. Yet Britta was willing to die with a full belly over having an empty one.
Britta trusted in the kindness of a stranger, even though they were certain it would be their doom. They learned many things. The alien was a Gyiik named Neal, and they were allowed only to cook tiny sampler meals. Literal miniatures of the full serving.
A Gyiik's idea of a miniature meal was Britta's concept of a luxury meal. The standard meals were four to eight times that size... and Gyiikish portions were far greater than that. The followers of their goddess of plenty took plenty with them, and gave plenty to others.
It was their sacred duty to feed the hungry.
"But what if someone is faking it to get free food?" Britta asked between careful, slow bites. Tempted though they were to bolt down the lot, they knew that eating too fast would only mean more sickness.
"What harm is it to us? We have plenty! There is no threat of food running out. Why let a multitude go hungry because one is selfish?"
Britta wanted to say that freeloaders were evil. They weren't going to earn what they needed. But then again... they were freeloading, right now. They had done nothing to earn this food. They were sinning against the all-powerful Invisible Hand.
"Food is made to be eaten," said the far-larger adult in the kitchen. "Hoard it away in selfishness, and all it can do is rot."
Britta thought of the massive grain silos that went unsupervised and unmaintained, and the rotting mulch that poured out of them when the famine hit. Rotting mulch and rats. They thought of the priests of Korprat, who still ate well because their job was the most important, and people like Britta were expendable.
They hadn't wanted to be expendable. So they stowed away.
They never questioned the suspiciously large leftovers in the mess hall. Never asked how the crew of the freighter never found them. Never wondered why the ship was in drydock when there was nothing wrong with it.
Until now.
"You letting me freeload?"
"It's called helping someone in need," answered Neal.
[Image (c) Can Stock Photo / furofelix]
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