The Nymphs of Asthamie

(2021, Excerpt)

Safely out of the planet’s atmosphere, Margot let off the throttle and turned on autopilot. Outside her viewport on the starboard side of the ship, she could see the transport security shuttle following close behind. With an OK over the radio, she turned off comms and leaned back in her seat. What a strange little planet.

The client’s security personnel had already been there when she landed and were overseeing the process. Some workers were misting the product with some kind of chemical in preparation of loading it. Saplings, they looked like, but balled up at the bottom, as if the roots were clenched in a fist. They looked strange to Margot, like everything on the planet. The purple flora, the fluttering insects––for that was the only other life she could see––were somehow uncanny. And though she couldn’t explain it, the surrounding forest and low-hanging clouds felt more claustrophobic than the inside of the cockpit.

Golan, the head security officer, curtly motioned her over for instructions. They sternly reminded her the importance of the product arriving intact, briskly assuring they would take care of any external threats and that her job was solely to take off carefully, land more carefully, and not muck anything up in between. Also, although it shouldn’t happen, if the product were to arrive in worse condition than it left, she should expect a significant cut to her pay and even legal action as necessary. Margot nodded respectfully. Even for a Drogan, they were insensitive and rude.

Setting an alarm for her next security check-in, she gazed at the abysmal sky for some time before getting up to stretch her legs. As she moved toward the back of the cockpit, she finally saw it, leaning against the back of her seat. But what was it doing there? The cargo hold wasn’t connected on the inside. Had it been put there by mistake? Or perhaps on purpose, as some kind of joke? Surely not. The workers had been very careful in loading them. And yet, there it was, as plain as day. A knobby, purple leafed Asthamian laurel.