PoV: Mira

  I flicked the fishing rod hoping she could scare something edible onto the hook. I had been at it for hours and I’ve had a few bites but nothing that stayed on the hook, as mr Lazarus called it.

  “This is stupid,” I muttered to no one. I had a few bites I think but n

  The lake shimmered under the shadow of the nearby planet, its surface glassy and silent. Too silent. Not a single splash. Not even a ripple. Just her and her reflection staring at each other, both unimpressed.

  Camping was not what Mr Lazarus had promised. He’d said it would be fun. A “bonding experience,” whatever that meant. Something about character building and “getting in touch with our ancient roots.”

  Then he kicked us off the ship. Saying he needed some Me time, whatever that meant.

  “Don’t call it kicking,” he’d said.“You’re all perfectly safe. I found a location where the tidal pattern is extremely stable, the lake is freshwater, and you’ll thank me later.”

  I was not thanking him.

  “Not even a tiny bit,” I couldn't help but grumble, shifting on the rock to try to find a more comfortable position.

  The ‘campsite’ if you could call it that was a flat stretch of grey sand beside the lake. A few stubby trees offered zero shade, and the wind was just sharp enough to make her hair fly. Lazarus had picked the spot for its so-called ‘natural serenity’. It was quiet, sure. In the same way, an empty ship was quiet.

  It would’ve been fine if he’d let us use the nanites to make a shelter. Or even use one of the bases on the moon. But no.

  “You need to struggle,” he’d said. “Struggling builds character.”

  T’lish, naturally, had loved that idea, it was the Kall-e motto to a tee. That was until the tents came out.

  “I did not realise ‘character’ meant peeing in a bucket,” she’d snapped earlier, flaring her teeth in irritation.

  I wholeheartedly agree.

  The tents all three of them were flimsy things made from what Lazarus called “canvas” and I called “cheap disappointment.” Lynn and I were staying in one, Stewie and Kel shared another, and Laia bunked with T’lish in the third, even though neither of them needed much sleep. Laia said she was there for “observation and emotional support.” T’lish claimed she needed the tent for “ritual privacy.”

  Mira suspected both just wanted somewhere to complain in peace.

  Setting up the tents had taken an hour. They’d spent most of it swearing, tripping over cords, and accusing each other of reading the instructions wrong. That right, we had instructions, written on thin sheets of metal.

  Stewie had finally thrown the entire instruction sheet into the lake, “If I ever see a tent again, I am going to….”. I agreed with his sentiment but I don’t think some of the things he said are possible.

  And that had been the easy part.

  Then came dinner.

  No rations. No nutrient ball. Not even a crumb of hydrogel.

  “You will hunt,fish and forage,” Lazarus had declared. “This is a survival exercise.”

  I groaned so loud anything in the lake would be gone now, just remembering the conversation made me mad.

  I could barely draw the bowstring, so Stewie had handed her the fishing rod and said, “You sit by the lake and try not to stab yourself with the hook.”

  So rude.

  T’lish had disappeared into the trees not long after, muttering something about reliving her “Blood-Spine Rite,” which involved stalking prey at the age of five with nothing but a carved obsidian fang. I wasn’t sure if that was true or just one of the alien’s weird ways of bragging. I suspected now knowing more about the Kall-e it was likely true. Either way, it left me with a fishing rod, zero idea what I was doing, and a bucket she refused to acknowledge.

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  Lazarus had told us how it was supposed to work but I hadn’t been listening so didn’t really understand what I was doing.

  The rod twitched.

  I panicked catching my breath.

  Another twitch. That was another bite, I’ve been here before.

  I was supposed to yank the line, so I did but too fast and too hard the hook whipped out of the water, flinging a fat, grey thing straight into my face. It slapped her cheek like a cold hand and plopped into her lap.

  I shrieked. Not in a dignified way, but what was that thing?

  “Help!” she shouted, slapping at the flopping creature.

  A moment later, Lynn jogged over, bow slung across her back. She took one look at Mira and burst out laughing.

  “You caught something,” Lynn said between wheezes. “Sort of.”

  “It attacked me!”

  “Right. With its… flippers.” Lynn leaned down and scooped up the fish-thing. “Looks edible. Ugly as sin, though.”

  Mira wiped her face with her sleeve. “I want my ship food back.”

  Lynn went to toss the creature into the cooking pot, now balanced over their tiny campfire. Laia stopped her.

  “You have to prepare it first.” She said.

  Preparing the fish was awful, it was still alive so I had to kill it with a knife, and then I had to remove its insides in put it into the lake. Finally, I was able to put it over the fire to cook.

  “Same. At least with Lazarus, dinner doesn’t smell like damp socks and look like it wants revenge.” Said Lynn

  From across the camp, Stewie cheered. “Oi! Mira caught dinner!”

  “Not on purpose,” I said, but secretly I was a bit proud.

  Kel offered a rare grin as he walked past. “Doesn’t matter. You fed us. That counts.”

  That actually made her feel a bit better. Not much, but enough.

  Later, as they all gathered around the fire and blinking into the heat, chewing on dubious grilled fish, and trying not to think too hard about the bucket. I looked up at the stars and imagined Mr Lazarus watching them from orbit, probably smug as ever.

  “Still think this was a good idea?” I whispered to the sky.

  Laia was fussing with a packet beside the fire, hands moving too delicately for someone who claimed not to need food. She peeled something soft and white out of a foil wrapper and flew over to hand it to me on the tip of a long stick.

  “Marshmallow,” she announced, like she was unveiling a sacred relic. “Lazarus said they’re best when slightly burned.”

  “Flame-charring,” I corrected, rolling my eyes. “Because apparently, setting sugar on fire is a delicacy.”

  I had made the marshmallows following Mr Lazarus's directions. It was sugar, water and gelatine. I hope it was as nice as he said.

  I held the stick out over the fire and watched the edges bubble. The heat made the sugary puff sag and wobble like it was thinking about giving up.

  Lynn leaned over from her seat on a log. “Careful, it’ll melt clean off if you hold it too long.”

  I wasn’t paying attention and the sugary puff fell off into fire.

  “That was a failure,” whispered Lynn.

  “Like your tent-building skills?” I replied

  She bumped her shoulder into mine and grinned. “Harsh. Accurate. But harsh.”

  While we tried to keep our marshmallows from collapsing into flaming goo, I asked, “So… how’d bow practice go? Any actual targets yet, or still pretending logs are dangerous beasts?”

  Stewie groaned. “Laia still won’t let us use sharp tips.”

  “Because you’re still hitting trees,” Laia chirped without looking up. “And that poor rock. Repeatedly.”

  Kel snorted. “Bows aren’t toys. We’re not putting holes in each other on a camping trip just to make it interesting. I don’t even know where Lazarus got the idea from”

  “But tomorrow” Stewie jabbed his stick at the fire for emphasis, “we’re stepping it up. Real arrows. Real meat. No offence, Mira, but there wasn’t enough on this fish to fill me”

  “None taken,” I said, pulling my marshmallow back to inspect the scorch. It was golden on one side, and black on the other. So, success?

  I tried it, and it was heavenly. Warm and slightly strange texture, but yes adding fire had changed it.

  I asked Laia if she knew anything about T’lish

  Laia offered a smile. “T’lish is still out there. Lazarus has eyes on her and says she’s fine.. actually better than fine”

  Stewie made a face. “Yeah, I can’t believe she wanted to hunt without any tools, who does that?”

  “She’s Kall-e,” Lynn said. “Their version of school is probably a jungle death maze.”

  We all laughed at that, even Laia.

  The fire crackled on, chasing shadows into the scrub, and we just… sat. The conversation wandered. Someone told a story about their worst meal (spoiler: hydrogel smoothie), and someone else asked what we’d do if we ever had a whole planet to ourselves.

  I didn’t know what I’d want. I guess I just liked this. Sitting close. Warm. Not running.

  At one point, Stewie leaned back, hands behind his head, and stared at the sky.

  “You think anyone else has ever seen this exact same set of stars?” he asked.

  We all looked up.

  The sky was packed. Tiny, sharp lights freckled the black, spread wide like someone had spilled diamond dust on velvet. There were no satellites. No blinking beacons. No ship trails. Just the main planet and the stars, untouched and ancient.

  “No,” I said. “I don’t think anyone else has.”

  “Not from this spot,” Lynn agreed. “Not this moon. “

  Kel nodded, quiet. “We’re the first.”

  And somehow, that made the cold, the bucket, the fish-slap, and the tent wrestle all… worth it. Because we were here. Together. Under a sky no one else had ever seen.

  And that made it ours.