Colony One by E. M. Peters

Finn, who had had a brief bout of space sickness, had a healthy color back in her cheeks.
    The doctor evaluated the supplies and decided, “Looks like green pea soup and flatbread.”
    “Anything will be better than the meatloaf you tricked us into eating,” Niko commented with a shiver, eliciting an eye roll from the good doctor.
    Makenna had some device disassembled on the table. At first, the others had complained when she did this at mealtime – which was often – but they had since relented. There was no talking to Mak when she was engaged in a project. At the mention of the meatloaf, however, she proved to everyone that she wasn’t completely oblivious, “Never again with the meatloaf.” She said and blanched slightly as she worked. “I lose two hours of productivity because of meatloaf.”
    “Aw, I didn’t think it was that bad,” Charlie put in, trying to assuage the doctor’s hurt feelings. In reality, he had spent just as much time in the bathroom as everyone else after the meal.
    “That’s because you were raised in a barn,” Charlie looked up and over to see – much to his surprise – Captain Avery standing in the doorway, leaning on the frame with her arms crossed. She had a distinct amused look on her face and before Charlie could respond, she spoke again – “It’s tea time again, I see.”
    “Just because I am British,” Winston huffed, and then sighed tellingly as he gestured. “Tea is on the hotplate.” He admitted and went back to preparing the soup.
    The Captain helped herself to a cup, and then joined the table. Charlie, Niko, and Finn all stared at her with blank expressions. Even Makenna spared a surprised double take before refocusing on what she was doing.
    “What?” Avery asked.
    “Are you joining us for dinner, Captain?” Finn asked.
    “A girl’s got to eat,” Avery admitted, taking a sip of the tea and blanching. She was more of a coffee person, made evident when she abandoned the cup. She leaned back in her chair and stretched to grab an apple from a see-through compartment drawer. A stack of pull-out drawers were what made up the dry storage pantry on the ship. She bit into it and noticed everyone was still staring, “Well don’t go out of your way to make me feel welcome.” She commented. “Just… carry on with whatever it is you all do.” She insisted, but watched them with an unusual keen interest and a half smile.
    Niko pursed his lips, pushed down the unsettled feeling at the Captain’s attentions and turned to Finn, who had been paging through a physical album of photos, “Are these all your work?” He asked her.
    Finn nodded, “Yer welcome to have a look.” She slid the album over to give him a better view.
    He ran his fingertips over the plastic pages that protected the photographs, “It’s so odd to see a non-digital photograph,” he admitted. He studied the first image – the one she had been viewing. It was a colorless picture of a woman and her three children working in a production zone. The smallest one looked to be three years old. “My goodness,” he found himself breathing the words aloud.
    The image was striking in a way he could not express. There was a look of true burden on the woman’s face – not because of her kids. On the contrary, she seemed to be burdened with the guilt of the life she was providing for them. The children all wore weathered looks far beyond their physical ages. Childhood would mean something entirely different for these children than it did for him. Niko wasn’t sure how he had come to that conclusion from the photo alone – perhaps he had just made up a story based on pity. Either way, the impact on him was real. Knowing that poverty existed was one thing – being faced with it front and center was another. He found himself looking up from the photos to Finn, who had dedicated her life to trying to bring the injustices of the world front and center. He suddenly understood why her energy felt so