“Qasan Station is straight ahead,” the ship announced as we were sitting in the main hall.

“Tell us a bit about Qasan Station. What nation is it a part of? Will they attack us? Does my SAD translate what they say?” I asked as I tapped my foot.

“Qasan Station is owned by the nation of Qasan Station. It is a station-state, one of several in the galaxy. The station houses a hundred million citizens, separated into twenty different cities with trading districts between them for outsider to trade. It is a multispecies nation, with thousands of species among its citizens and about as many trading there. To accommodate the fact that some species are physically unable to speak another’s language, universal translators with dictionaries on all recorded galactic languages are available, allowing an understandable but slow conversation to take place. Be warned, like all places, criminals wander the alleyways, hoping to steal from a visitor looking for more exotic merchandise. Because of the glut of criminals, shoplifting is punishable by immediate execution. You can regularly find bounties on fugitives across the galaxy. The slave trade is legal in Qasan Station, so be careful not to get into enough debt that slavery is the only way out,” the ship said. I was disgusted by the last part.

“Really? How is the slave trade still profitable when robots are advanced enough to do all of those jobs?” I asked as I tried to keep my anger down. Not that it worked considering that I was shouting the question.

“Culture determines whether slaves or robots are used. Many societies are fearful of rogue AI due to several incidents of sapient AI revolting against their masters. Galactic law forbids the creation of sapient AI due to its inherent unpredictability. One species treated its robots well, but the robots revolted anyways since their task became solvable if they eliminated the species. Some societies decide the easiest solution is to ban robots altogether. To make up for lost productivity, they often employ slaves to save on costs and showcase their superiority to subjugated species. While slaves revolt more often, their revolts are easier to put down. As it turns out, flesh is weaker than metal,” the ship explained. It upset me that it could say it so nonchalantly, but I supposed a robot didn’t have emotions.

“Thank you for the explanation. Now then, we need some new supplies. I just need to find out how to purchase them,” I said as I pondered what to do.

“The Sorlok has enough valuables to afford an entire station. Perhaps by trading some of his valuables and some items in this ship, you could afford a new one to accommodate your increasing crew count,” the ship replied.

“Aren’t you concerned about being sold?” Gruma asked, having learned that the ship was where the voice was coming from. She didn't yet realize that it was from the speakers in the ceiling that were connected to the AI core, but I supposed I couldn't expect her to catch up that quickly.

“It’s…” I started before I was quickly interrupted.

“Emotions are exclusive to biological lifeforms. This ship has no attachment to organics and is programmed to maximize user satisfaction,” the ship replied. I knew there was no way Gruma understood what was being said, but I doubted she would understand anytime soon.

“Collect everything to sell and buy something new. Got it!” I replied while making a mental note to find gigs to earn some money.

As the station came into view, I had to say that I was awestruck. It was colossal. It had to be several hundred miles wide. It was composed of twenty smaller stations, split up into five levels of four stations. Each level connected their stations with a giant ring. Each level was connected to each other by a central column that was inside the rings. The top of the central column would open up to allow several ships in before closing for a few minutes. From what I could guess, it was using a sort of airlock so it wouldn’t suffocate everyone attempting to leave their ships once inside.

Our ship managed to get in after a while, passing through the airlock and entering into a massive parking lot. It kind of resembled my experiences driving to Water World back on Earth. Thankfully, the autopilot could find an empty parking space, unlike that amusement park, and landed there. “You have arrived at Qasan Station,” the ship said as the hatch outside opened. As the ramp lowered to the ground, we walked out of the ship and looked around.

There had to be tens of millions of spacecrafts in this station somewhere. The current level was absolutely packed with thousands of spacecrafts. Several were oddly shaped while others were too small for me to fit in. To be fair, it made sense that several alien species were much smaller than humanity. There are several forms a sapient species could take with nigh infinite possibilities.

Zalex pulled out four of the brilliant gems that he stole from the Bassun. He handed two gems to Gruma and two to me. “I’ll keep the technology and ship to trade for something useful while the two of you get what you want,” Zalex said as he stood by the ship. Gruma and I nodded before we walked to the monorail station together.

I grabbed a map from the entrance of the station and sat down on a bench, motioning for Gruma to sit next to me. She complied and looked at the map with amazement. I, however, scowled as I realized that I was technically illiterate. I could read English and could get a general idea of what something was in Spanish, but nothing could compare to extraterrestrial languages. The strange symbols resembled hieroglyphics drawn by kindergarteners.

“I think that the jeweler district is here,” I said as I pointed to the section with a picture that somewhat resembled a gem. “We should sell them there. We could then go our separate ways.” Gruma nodded and took a map for herself. We then waited for the next monorail for the district and boarded it. The monorail zoomed through the tracks, spending more time at stops than the commute between them.

We eventually reached the district and got off the train. We went our separate ways, agreeing to meet up at the ship at the end of our shopping trip. I ran off, weaving through the various alien species, careful not to trample the small ones and not to be trampled by the large ones. I soon reached a merchant and pulled out one of the brilliant gems. “How much will this fetch?” I asked as I held it to capture the artificial light in the corridor.

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“About a hundred galactic credits. Take it or leave it,” the merchant said. SAD perfectly translated it and his monotone voice. I had no idea what a hundred galactic credits meant, but it sounded pathetically low.

“A hundred galactic credits? I wasn’t born yesterday! I know that’s a scam!” I shouted back. I didn’t know how much it was worth or how common it was, but my mind automatically correlated galactic credits to dollars. I could hear a crowd assembling behind me, which meant that I was making a scene. Not something I wanted, but I wasn't going to be ripped off without others taking note.

“Fine, two hundred galactic credits. I won’t budge,” the merchant said. I thought about it for a while. He sounded adamant that the gem was worthless, but it couldn’t be. Zalex wouldn’t have risked his life to steal a gem if it was worthless. On the other hand, the merchant refused to offer a suitably high price after I called his bluff. I soon felt something wet tap my leg. I looked down to see that a snail-like alien was there.

“He’s bluffing! That’s worth five thousand credits at least. Merchants like scamming primitives like you,” the snail-like alien said before motioning towards a sign hidden behind the merchant that showed some kind of avian species holding a spear with a list of words under it. Each had a corresponding picture. Lo and behold, there was a human on that list. The merchant sent a death glare to the snail with his single eye. I smirked as I knew that he was caught swindling me. Perhaps making a scene was worth it. I just hoped I wasn't turning into the person that demanded to talk with someone's manager over the slightest thing.

“Thank you,” I told the snail before walking to another stall that was out of earshot of that conversation. I placed the gem on the counter. “Ten thousand credits. Take it or leave it,” I said as I tried to test how far this merchant was willing to budge.

“Ten thousand? How about one thousand? In the Bassun area, those gems are common,” the squid-like merchant said from its tank.

“Do I look like an oversized bug to you? Fifteen thousand. I almost died retrieving this from them. You know as well as anyone that they will kill anyone who enters their domain,” I said, upping the price with full knowledge that I inserted rarity into the equation. If it was almost impossible to get, the price would logically be higher.

“Seven thousand. That’s as high as I’m willing to go,” the merchant said, seemingly desperate for the gem since they went above market value. I knew I had a desperate customer, meaning I could attempt to squeeze a bit more out of them.

“That’s nice, but the merchant back there offered nine thousand five hundred credits. If you won’t give a better bid, I’ll just have to sell this extraordinarily rare gem to them,” I said, waving the gem in front of them. I knew how car salesmen would attempt to incite panic in customers to make them overpay for cars. Who was to say what I was doing was any different?

“Fine! Eleven thousand credits, nothing more!” the merchant cried as a large eye looked at the gem.

“Pleasure doing business with you,” I said as I placed the gem on the counter. The alien grabbed it with a tentacle and pulled it into their tank.

“Seeing as you’re a primitive, would you like a free account at Qasan Galactic Bank? Your credits will be stored there, and you’ll be able to use that modified galactic communicator to pay with,” the merchant said as they marked a tally on a board. I guess my SAD was a galactic communicator. That and he earned some reward for opening back accounts.

I opened up my SAD and found a menu option for opening a bank account. I selected the Qasan Galactic Bank option and was shocked to see that I was automatically approved. I then watched as my balance skyrocketed from zero credits to eleven thousand credits. I looked back and could see Gruma walking over to me.

“Hey Quentin, did you open an account?” Gruma asked me as she opened up her SAD and stumbled her way to her bank account. She opened it up and showed that she had four thousand credits. I sighed and facepalmed. Gruma saw this and asked, “What’s wrong?”

“You were scammed. You had way more than four thousand credits worth on you!” I replied as I showed her my eleven thousand credits. “I got this with one gem to spare.”

“How am I supposed to know? Less than a month ago, there was nothing magical in my life!” Gruma retorted as she tried to close her device.

“I’m sorry,” I said as I looked down. I was too harsh on her. Of course she wouldn’t know. I didn’t know! If a species in an industrial world had issues, than a pre-industrial world should be similar. “A friendly alien kept me from being scammed. We probably should’ve stayed together to avoid this happening,” I said as we walked back to the monorail.

As we boarded the train, Gruma asked, “Do you need any clothes? I’m buying some for myself.”

“Yes, please,” I said before quickly adding, “Make sure to avoid getting me dresses or skirts! I would prefer shirts, pants, and shoes.” I didn’t know what males on her planet dressed like, but I wanted to preempt any potentially embarrassing situation.

“I know what you like to wear, Quentin,” she said with annoyance and a frown. “I saw your pictures on that strange rectangle you sometimes look at.” I knew she was referring to my smartphone. I felt sorry for her. She wasn’t dumb, but her lack of knowledge about technology made her sound that way.

The monorail stopped by the clothing section. We both got off. Gruma looked for clothes while I decided we needed spacesuits. We were lucky on that desolate planet. We needed to be careful. Suffocation and depressurization were not on my to-do list.

“Welcome, lost soul. It seems that you are a long way from home,” a three-eyed reptilian alien merchant said in front of a store.

“True. I was looking for some spacesuits for my crew and I,” I said as I entered the store and saw lines of spacesuits on racks.

The reptilian merchant walked up to me and explained, “We understand that with hundreds of millions of species across the galaxy, we can’t possibly design a suit that fits everyone. Each suit will need to be registered with a user before configuring to the right shape. Of course, in order for that to occur, there needs to be enough material on the suit. I recommend getting a suit a bit big for you so it can shrink down to size.”

I listened to his advice and got three large spacesuits. Two were for me while the other one was for Gruma. The spacesuits were armored with oxygen tanks and breathing apparatuses. There were three color variants of the same design. While all were primarily silver, they had colored shoulder pads and accents. One was blue, one was red, and one was green. I placed the spacesuits on the counter, getting the reptilian to run behind it and ring the items up. “That would be three hundred credits,” they explained.

“Thank you. Transferring credits now,” I said as I transferred the credits over. I grabbed the suits and continued shopping for more supplies. By the end of my shopping, I spent a thousand credits in total, including the spacesuits. I even got a backpack so I could carry everything at once. It was then that I decided to check on the rotten underbelly of this whole station. An evil that should not exist anywhere. I was going to check the slave market.