“One last visit to the Aroma Room,” she decided, “to recall the smells of coffee, roses, even broccoli.”
There were X-rated smells, too.
Surreptitiously she typed in ‘barbecuing meat’, which no earthling had tasted in centuries, and inhaled.
Mkumbe’s eyes fluttered open. Dawson loomed over him, brandishing a chainsaw from the colonists’ equipment store.
“What’ll it be?” she said. “An arm or a leg?”