My Name Is Mercke Lutso – Part I Chapter 3

My pod landed in the middle of the Tatoonian Dune Sea. A sudden case of deja vu washed over me as I found myself once again, wandering aimlessly through a seemingly endless desert.

Granted this desert was a sandy one, and trekking it proved to be considerably more difficult than my past experiences with the rocky, dusty deserts of my homeworld. I didn’t enjoy it. Discovering that the system I had landed in was fueled by two suns only added to my enthusiasm. At least the days were short.

Night of course was not much of an improvement. The darkness in these regions were of an extreme variety, and several new types of insects and other, more intimidating creatures found me on their nocturnal hunts. I did manage to kill a large beetle, but being unable to start a fire I couldn’t do much with it except fashion a sun shield from it’s carapace.

On the second day I found my first sign of civilization. A moisture vaporator had been erected on a flat patch of rock, and judging by it’s state of disrepair I guessed it to be long abandoned. The device was, however, functional, and to my ever-present luck I managed to scrape a liter or so of water into a small, plastic container found in the wreckage.

Everything about this planet seemed inhospitable to me. To be truthful, I was beyond surprised when I found the vaporator – until then, I hadn’t thought anyone in the Galaxy could be stupid enough to try living on a world like this.  The days were hot and dry, and the intensity of the double suns was enough to drive a man mad. I found myself fatigued easily in these conditions, and this fact was only made worse when a stumble or faint would bring you down on your hands and knees on the scorching hot sand, enough to burn holes through your skin.

There was no moisture on the planet, as evidenced by the necessity of vaporators like the one I had found. I tried digging for groundwater near a rock outcropping, but my attempts proved fruitless – not a drop anywhere to be found. I wondered how these bizarre night creatures that were so ever-present managed to survive in these conditions.

By the third day I had still made no visible progress, and my suspicions of travelling around the same spot in circles grew stronger as I noticed the endless, cloned dunes stretching out on all sides of me. The only landmarks I had to go by were small rock patches and an occassional small mountain range. While nearing one of these rugged protrusions I heard an alien, almost ghostly call which clearly belonged to something much bigger and more powerful than any of the creatures I had encountered thus far. It was evening, and I didn’t like the idea of sharing a territory with a monster like that in the blindness of these desert nights, so I decided to take shelter in one of the small canyons grooved into the rock face. I sat and waited for the night to come, not sure of what to expect of the approaching darkness, or the next day for that matter. For all my complaints, I do recall the twilight on Tatooine as being a magical experience. Watching the binary sunset held a certain unreal, almost dreamlike imagery which has haunted me to this day. And when the suns had gone, the stars came out. The stars always drove me into a line of inexplicable thinking. It was as if they opened my eyes to the many wonders of the Galaxy. How could a place like this exist? So inhospitable, so unforgiving. And moreso, how could there exist life in this enviornment?

I felt both connected and isolated by the stars. Out there lay the homeworlds of millions upon millions of beings. And somehow I found myself here, alone in this wasteland, this harsh, lonely, desolate place.
And what a desolate place it was.

I found civilization on the fourth day.

Mos Eisley was apparently the largest spaceport on the planet, and the only real spaceport as far as I ever saw. As large as it may have been by Tatoonian standards, it was a small place, maybe about half the size of the capital at Concord Dawn.

I was disgusted. Upon setting foot on the first of the clumsily-swept streets an array of smells reached my nostrils which immediately brought to mind intense images of decaying garbage. What that garbage was composed of was anyone’s guess, as I’ve yet to find that distinctive smell anywhere again, even in the lowest bowels of the most poverty-ridden cities.

I swear, I nearly turned around and headed straight back into the dunes.

My first stop was a mechanic’s garage just inside the North gates of the city. There I found a family of Aqualish immigrants hurriedly and furiously working on an XP-38. I stumbled into the hanger and started to speak, but found that I’d lost my voice after the days of silence and only managed to cough up a large portion of wet sand before collapsing on the floor. The aliens scurried over to me curiously, and seemed to regard me as more of an interesting peculiarity than the dying man I really was. They chattered in a quiet, disregarding tone, as if I were already dead. My startled vocalization of protest finally caught their attention, and I soon learned that one of the men spoke some form of Basic. I asked for water. To my dismay it was immediately concluded that I would be paying for the drink – indeed, this was a harsh world. The youngest and most socially adept of the aliens took pity on me and brought me a small cup of dirty water, disregarding his families snide comments of dissaproval. I thanked him, and he accepted as one of the others told me to, essentially, get out as fast as my meatbag legs could carry me.

Later in the day I made the realization that it would be necessary for me to start out a new life for myself. Now that I’d found a trace of society, many new options presented themselves. Some were more appealing than others, but one thing was certain – to eek out even the most meager existence would require money.
I found a solution to this problem in an old woman named Trehla Keelo. She owned a water cafe in the central area of the city, and she received enough traffic during the hot days that she was able to live a somewhat comfortable life. She took me in as a waiter almost immediately, and I recieved both a handful of money and a place to sleep after my first day of work. She was a kind woman, and she let me stay in the shop overnight with little hesitation. The blankets she’d provided me with were scratchy and small, but in comparison to my recently prior nighttime experiences, I was in no mood to complain.

I continued this existence for the next several weeks with little complication or dissapointment. I knew that I couldn’t continue with this lifestyle forever, though. Working with Trehla was a pleasurable experience, but it wasn’t a life-making career. I needed a real job.
Surprisingly enough, I found one the next day.

Kevin Kreger is a photographer, filmmaker, and writer. His contributions to Verivex include science fiction, history, and reflections.Learn more about Kevin Kreger on his website or connect with him on Facebook.

1. 

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   December 21, 2009 at 4:05 am

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