People often take for granted that which is commonplace. Those few things, ever constant in their lives from the moment their eyes open until the moment they forever are closed. The sun, the moon, the stars beyond. Oxygen on hand, without a tank to hold it, a mask to deliver it into lungs always ready to consume it. The ground, and the gravity that holds them firm upon the surface of this Earth.

But they also take for granted color. Rich sky blues that grow indigo as the burning cherry reds and dusted pinks of the sun dip beyond the horizon and offer the moon space for its silver light to touch down upon. Fruit and vegetables that sing vibrancy in both similarly and violently different ways. People see these colors and are therefore perplexed at the idea of creatures who see less than that. They cannot even comprehend the audacity of the lessened spectrum, of a color wheel missing a single slice.

It was only after leaving this planet to explore the unknown of the Solar System that humanity found a new fondness for color. Moons dampened to dull grays and tans provided little to no foundation for the lush greens vegetation provided, or the kaleidoscopian arrays of flowers and fruits and vegetables. Blue that existed only in artificial environments neglected general populaces.

The Courier knew this well, for he was one of the few who tested their toes in the frigid torrents of space and the rocks that lingered there. He found awe at first. A sweeping motion of the unknown that kept him swirling in its riptides for a couple decades. As time passed, a crushing despair had started to creep up on him. Slow like a crawling vine, choking him subtly enough that he nearly died without knowing the cause.

Gazing upon rows and rows of bright orange, pastel greens, and blistering pinks, he could hardly believe the answer had eluded him for so long.

His hands worked gentle around the swath of soft leaves as he plucked the orange from its branch. Around him, automated machines worked the majority of the fields. Would continue to do so when he left for his next run to Europa. But there was a special bond he shared with this orchard. A closeness that he hadn’t felt for any other living thing. Trees gave so much, yet asked for so little in return. On their own, they reached for the sky, building upon themselves, stretching heavy branches toward the sun. Giants that served mankind, beings that lived well past them.

The Courier loved his trees, and it was his belief that, in some ways, they loved him too. Unlike his love for them, however, the trees’ stretched far beyond him, and that was fine. He knew he was too small, too insignificant to handle all their love, all their care. Spreading it out was better for everyone, in the long run. What he was given was quite enough.

“Ah, sir.”

The voice was like a whisper with a gentle breeze fragmenting the sound.

“Yes,” the Courier answered as he continued tending to the tree before him.

“Ship’s ready. Just like you asked. New parts, spare in the docking bay. Cargo’s mostly loaded, though we’re not quite sure all the dragonfruit'll fit.”

“Dragonfruit doesn’t fare as well on Europa as the others,” the Courier replied, gentle but firm. “Seems they don’t like opening such a beautiful fruit to nothing but white on the inside.”

A chuckle. “No, sir. Don’t think they do.”

“Mm,” he hummed, scratching at his square-cut peppered beard. “Take what’s left to be ferried up North. Should be just fine with what’s already loaded on the ship.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll let the crew know.”

“If you would.”

Only the soft sound of shoes sinking into rich soil indicated the departure. Comfortable silence filled the air once more. A breeze shifted the waves of leaves like one monolithic shiver. An oasis that the Courier often felt remorse in leaving, but needed to all the same. The love of these trees reached past Earth’s atmosphere, glided past Mars, and hovered over the small moon with an even smaller populace. Everyone deserved a touch of their vibrancy, a taste of their fresh and nutritional treasures.

The landing pad was devoid of the Courier’s staff. Prepped for launch, the only sound was the rolling purr of his ship’s pristine engine and the sharp reoccurring beep crying for the doors to be shut. Something the Courier did as soon as his inventory was checked, his fresh-brewed coffee casting warmth against his hand, and the course for Europa set. He did a quick mental checklist before fastening himself into his seat and initiating the ship’s takeoff routine.

Engines breathing softly a moment before roared to life. Waves of heat blasted the reinforced steel dock, creating tempests of dust and fire racing to every edge and recoiling at the touch of their cold-steel captors. Above, the ship rose, her precious cargo strapped expertly into her bossom.

The windows surrounding the cockpit showed Willow in all of her glory. Hammerhead reinforcements made up her intricately assembled nose that sloped upwards to shield the first cargo bay and half of the second. A top the flat rooms that housed various fruits and emergency parts was another stretch of thick Kevlar, and the faint shimmer of field shields an additional precaution over every inch of the ship. At either side, three pairs of wings rotated at differentiating intervals, each individual one equipped with smaller thrusters that would lend aide to the Master and Minor engines flaming at the very back end of the ship.

Tucked as he was—squarely in the middle of this jungle of steel, cable, and fire—the Courier couldn’t see Willow’s brilliant flames. But he knew they were there. As carefully maintained as she was, he knew they burned just as strong as they did when he saw her fly for the first time, all those years ago.

A contented sigh escaped his lips at the nostalgic remembrance. The ship was nearing the edges of the atmosphere, and the imagination of the painting she created was a marvelous thought. He let it sit in his mind as he steadied his nerves.

“Deliverance Route 12 Gatekeepers, requesting admittance documentation for entry into system travel.”

The Courier used his green stained fingers to type in and send his clearance papers. “When are you ever gonna retire, Donny?”

A muffled laugh came from the other end. “Let me raise your question with another. When are you going to retire, Courier?”

The Courier huffed a laugh. “Presume that’d be when my love for my trees die.”

“And for me, it’s the stars. This never ending blackness that surrounds them is rather comfortable.”

“Sure are a weird one, Donny. This emptiness o’er the sun and the soil?”

“Aye. It’s nice being kept in check. There are bigger things off land than myself, and what a fantastic feeling that is.”

“Feel like I’ve heard this before.”

“Every nine months, Courier. Every time you leave. It’s like a traditional conversation at this point.”

The Courier chuckled. It had become a ceremony at this point, hadn’t it?

“Well, hadn’t any expectation that you’re outta date with your permits, but. Protocol and such.”

“Good to go, then?”

“Aye. Safe travels there, Courier. See you in nine months, my friend.”

The Courier nodded to himself and prodded the ship forward with the central lever. Willow hummed in satisfaction, happily gliding through the emptiness around her.

Flying out of atmosphere during those first few charters were nerve wracking. The feeling of gravity forced to give up its grip terrifyingly painful. Now, though, it’s a gentle pull. An acknowledgment that Earth would always be here, ready to embrace him upon his return with the gentlest touch to send him on his way. Willow sometimes strained a little against it, the ride growing mildly bumpy and she separated herself from the pull. Still, it was more comfort than not. A feeling the Courier felt he may never properly understand.

As the speckled space-scape before him grew all encompassing, he settled back in his seat and pressed a carefully practiced array of buttons, pulled two levers. The injections through the backside of his neck, down the length of his spine felt like comforting acupuncture. Chemically induced sleep would take him for the next four and a half months while Willow safely guided them to the furthest reaches of humankind.

As the life support machines encircled him, he breathed out a single long exhale and fell to the warm embrace of a fantastic, rejuvenating rest.