The Farming Saint in the Starry Wasteland (Elizabeth Schofield) novel Chapter 490

Chapter 490 Crabs, Food

Elizabeth bounded up the hatchway steps two at a time.

“Ella, we’re eating well tonight! We’ve caught over three thousand crabs!”

Melton was quick to clear up any confusion. “Crackshell Crabs, specifically.”

Ella’s eyes went wide as dinner plates.

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“Crackshell Crabs? Oh, those are a real treasure! Tender meat, but they’re an absolute nightmare to catch…” She looked Elizabeth up and down. “Boss, you’re not hurt, are you?”

“Not even a scratch.” Elizabeth waved her off. “I’m perfectly fine. Oh, and the group behind me is the farm’s newest hires. They’ll be working with us from now on. Make sure there’s plenty of food at lunch.”

Ella called back an easy acknowledgment and disappeared into the kitchen to get to work.

Clara stood at the base of the spaceship and tipped her head back, drinking in the sight of it.

It wasn’t enormous, but it was new and immaculately clean.

Warm amber light spilled from the open hatch, and with it came the most wonderful smell.

She hadn’t eaten a proper meal in three days.

The liquid supplements had been sweet at first, but after so many doses, it left a strange, chalky bitterness coating her tongue.

What drifted from the spaceship was something else entirely. The bright, earthy sweetness of fresh produce. The quiet fullness of cooked rice. The deep, rolling warmth of a hot broth.

Hunger struck her all at once.

It was fierce and bone-deep.

Beside her, Olivia swallowed hard.

“That smells incredible…”

Felix didn’t say a word, but his stomach made a low, rumbling protest on his behalf.

Rocket’s throat moved in a slow, restrained swallow.

Sharpie’s face stayed as unreadable as carved stone, but his footsteps picked up just a fraction of a beat.

Tyson appeared in the hatchway and waved them all forward.

“Come on up, stop standing around. Ella and the others cook fast. It won’t be long.”

Clara pressed one hand against the hull and climbed up, step by careful step.

Her legs were still trembling, and the wound still burned, but she made it.

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Chapter 490 Crabs, Fond

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She stood in the hatchway and peered inside.

The space wasn’t large, but it was spotless and warm.

A few tables had been pushed together, already set with plates and utensils.

The kitchen sat at the far end, where Ella’s round, bustling silhouette moved through the steam, the spatula ringing against the cast iron in bright, clattering waves.

Elizabeth had already settled at the table, a cup of water in her hand, deep in quiet conversation with Desmond.

Desmond listened, gave a single nod, and slipped back out.

Melton sat at another table nearby, tapping something into his holopad.

The rest of the crew was crouched in the corner, methodically wiping down their rifles.

It was all so easy, so settled, so peacefully ordinary.

Clara stood in the doorway and took it all in, and for a moment, the world felt strangely soft around the edges.

“Come sit.” Tyson pulled a chair out for her. “That wound of yours still needs to be looked at. Once we’re done eating, let the medic take a proper look.”

Clara sat down and looked at him.

“Tyson…” She hesitated a little. “Has everything been okay with you?”

Tyson looked at her and smiled.

“Does it look like I haven’t been?”

Clara studied him for a long, honest moment.

He was thinner than she remembered, noticeably so, but there was a brightness to him that hadn’t been there before.

The old weariness was gone from his eyes, and so was the constant, coiled tension. What lived there now was ease. Light.

“No,” she said. “It doesn’t.”

Tyson settled into the seat across from her.

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“Clara, I know what you’re thinking. You think I’m just saying something nice to make you feel better.” He glanced out the window, where sunlight was filtering down through the canopy and scattering in lazy, dappled patterns across the ground. “But I’m telling you, that place is different.

“There’s no backstabbing or playing people against each other. Everyone just puts their whole heart into their own work. You don’t have to watch your back, and you don’t have to scheme against anyone. It feels real. It feels safe.”

Clara listened without a word, and her eyes were full of something luminous and aching.

She’d never known that feeling, not once.

In Black Panther Squad, every single day had been a careful, exhausting vigil.

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Chapter 490 Crabs, Fond

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