“For some reason, whenever there is any number of humans in an open enough space, with enough raw materials, something will be set on fire. And something will inevitably be produced to cook over said fire, or at least hold over it on a stick and gently smoulder if there’s nothing edible available.”
The human was handy to have around. Deathworlders thought nothing of going into places that -for example- Brookessiin like Riik were loath to tread.
This one insisted on chatter. It made this labyrinthine hulk less lonely. And Riik could always trace the human by following it’s unpronounceable babble until they were re-united.
“Itellya, theinstantwegetthestuffweneedforrepairs? It'sgonnabehardtosayg'bye, yaknow?” The human said as it piled up wood and leaf litter. This was a nightly ritual. One that still fascinated Riik.
Humans, like all other cogniscent species, had discovered fire on their path to the stars. However, they had yet to find a place where fire wasn’t useful. And they had this instinctive compulsion to build a fire anywhere that counted as ‘open space’.
In this case, an overgrown park that had turned into a forest during its extended neglect.
Riik was in it solely for the roasted marshmallows.
Sadly, the human’s supply had run out, and Riik had nothing it could eat. Or hold over the fire to make edible. And everything growing on this station was poisonous to both of them.
The human just calmly speared a piece of bark with a stick and held that over the fire.
“Wegottahurryup, Rick,” it said. “Runnin'outtafood. Runnin'outtalotsastuff. ImeanIgotmatukkatukka, butyoucan'teatthat. B'sides, itain'tready.”
Riik held up two fingers, moved them closer together. “Small way to go. Two more days.” A gesture at the automatic lights with two fingers.
The human repeated the gesture. “Twomore. Icandealwithtwomore. You?”
Riik copied the human gesture of an upraised thumb. “Good. Self good.”
The human displayed its teeth. Tried to copy the Brokkessiin word. “Gud.”
Not bad for a first try.
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