"This planet sucks," a tawny beige skinned woman with her hair tied back grumbles as they enter the unloading area. "Even the space port smells like ‘nocerous dung.”

“It is what happens when a planet becomes the primary food provider for the Galaxy.”, her middle aged bearded companion responds in a way that clearly shows he has had this same conversation dozens of times over the years, although this is likely the first time he’s had this conversation with this particular young woman. “But, I’m with you, let’s just sell our cargo so we can be one step closer to getting out of here.”

“Not to change the subject, but I heard that you and John have a lead on getting someone new for ship security,” the woman inquires.

“We’re going to rendezvous with her at a nearby pub after we unload our cargo. Her credentials seem solid - she’s got a decade of military service on Nara," the bearded man explains.

Suddenly the woman becomes excited. "Is she green? Please tell me she's green! That would be so cool to have a bad…”

He puts up a hand to stop her rambling and interjects, “Believe it or not, her skin color was not part of her credentials. No matter what, a decade of military service seems like a good start to any resume.”

The excitable young woman concedes with a smile and shrug, "Yeah yeah, I know you're right. But I still hope she's a greenie."

Giving her a playful scowl, the crows’ feet around his eyes become a little more pronounced as he teases, "I'm pretty sure you just made up that word."

The woman grins mischievously, "Maybe."

As they approach the office of the space port's cargo chief, the middle aged man scans their surroundings and notices a lot of people bustling about loading large stacks of crates onto grav-sleds and comments, "Looks like this place is busier than usual. I don’t recall seeing this much activity here before."

———

A man with light brown hair that has the first speckles of gray coming in at his temples grunts as he struggles to remove a metal plate, revealing a power conduit. A roiling pink gaseous cloud with electricity arcing through it moves forward and hovers near the opening. The smell of ozone wafts off the cloud.

The pink cloud makes a series of noises that sound like static to a human ear, but the universal translator on board the ship immediately translates. “So John, why did you ask me to help you with the ansible’s relay?”

John turns to look at the pink cloud with his pale gray eyes and responds, "I ran a diagnostic and everything on the ansible seems fine. I think there might be a short in one of the power conduits causing the drop offs." As John talks, the universal translator emits buzzing noises.

The pink cloud responds, “OK, what do you need me to do?”

John furrows his brow, “I thought that you might be able to tell me.” With each word, John sounds less sure of his expectations.

“I’m sorry, but I really don’t know much about ansibles or power conduits. What made you think that I could solve this problem?”, the pink cloud questions.

“I don’t know Buzz, I thought that since you had electricity arcing through you and…”, John’s voice trails off.

Buzz makes a static sound that the translator can’t interpret. John assumes it must be something like a scoff. Then Buzz asks, “So you thought that just because I had electricity arcing through me, you assumed I was an electrician?”

John doesn’t respond immediately, so Buzz continues, “John, are you a hematologist?”

“No. What does that have to do with anything?”, is John’s response.

“But you have blood throughout your body, don’t you?”, Buzz presses.

“Well yeah, but…,” and finally understanding dons on John as he continues, "Okay okay, you win. You were right, I may have asked for your help based on a misconception about your abilities. Please accept my apology," John replies.

This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

"Apology accepted. And just so you know, I already knew that not only are you an ugly bag of water, but also a xenoist," Buzz quips.

As Buzz makes that last statement, there is something resembling a smile in its tone of static.

John smiles and says, "I should have asked Alina for help. She's the only one on board who knows how to fix anything. Plus, I should probably clean up and take a quick sonic shower before Vance gets back. We're supposed to meet with a new candidate for ship security."

"So, you're taking a shower. Does that mean this candidate is promising?" Buzz asks.

"She's ex-military from Nara, so yes," John confirms.

"I've never been to Nara since I joined this crew. Is it because of their military?" Buzz probes.

"Nara is known for its fantastic counterfeiting operations. You can get knock off versions of anything there. However, getting there can be difficult due to the anomalous gravity wells surrounding the planet. It's probably why other governments don't try to stop them, but Nara also has some of the best special forces in the galaxy. That's why I'm hoping our new candidate has green skin."

"Is this some kind of 'Green Supremacy' thing I don't know about your species?" even through the translator John can hear the air quotes around ‘Green Supremacy’, as Buzz asks curiously.

John pauses for a moment to collect his thoughts before replying, "As far as I know, no human race is born with green skin, but Nara provides their top military agents with genetic enhancements. One of the side effects is that it turns their skin green. If she has green skin, then she's lethal."

Buzz lets out a sound that John has come to recognize as laughter. "No wonder you need a shower." Buzz pauses before adding, "The new candidate is a woman."

———

As Vance and Alina stepped into the office, they were hit with a cacophony of scents. The pervasive smell of fertilizer still hung in the air, but now it’s mixed with the pungent aroma of burnt coffee and the chemical tang of degreaser. Despite the overwhelming odors, Vance pastes a smile on his face as the cargo chief extends a hand towards him.

"Captain Vance Renshaw?" The cargo chief asks, his voice rough and gruff.

"Everyone just calls me Vance," Vance replied, shaking the cargo chief’s calloused hand. Vance glances around the room and notices the offending coffee maker in the corner. Several plaques were on the wall along with a Commonwealth Shipping Union poster and a pendant for the Agronauts- a local wall derby team, and a semi organized desk that the cargo chief had just stepped around.

"My name's Riker and I'm the new cargo chief." Riker's eyes flicked to the manifest in front of him before continuing, "According to your manifest, it looks like you're mostly bringing us kyber. I'll offer you 150,000 credits for the whole shipment."

Alina scowled at Riker's offer. "That's ridiculous! 150,000 credits would barely cover what we purchased the kyber for and our energy rods to get here."

Vance placed a calming hand on Alina's shoulder. "She's right. I've delivered cargo all over this galaxy and Agros always needs kyber to create data crystals for their farming drones. I've never been offered so little."

"Unfortunately for you," Riker responded coolly, "The Commonwealth's Mercantile Fleet just came through and delivered a large shipment of kyber. Temporarily, we have an excess supply. The only reason I'm offering 150,000 credits is because, according to our logs, your ship, the Stellar Horizon, has been delivering cargo to Agros for over a dozen years. I don't want to dissuade you and your crew from continuing to do so."

Alina speaks up, "How about we make a trade instead? This planet always needs to export durable food goods. Maybe we could get a deal in return." A hopeful look for what she considers an adequate solution, apparent on her face.

Riker looks at Alina and shakes his head as he turns to Vance. "Can you explain why such a trade might not work?"

Vance lets out an elongated sigh before stating, "The Mercantile Fleet would have already taken any valuable goods from this planet to export, including any durable food. What's left would be priced higher than normal. Our less valuable items won't get us much in exchange, and other planets probably won't want to pay those inflated prices. We're at a dead end."

"So, will you consider my offer?" asks Riker.

Vance pauses before responding, "No, it seems like our best option is to find a better market for our kyber. Give us a few hours to refuel and restock, and we'll be on our way."

"No problem, Captain Renshaw. Best of luck to you and your crew."

Vance couldn’t even harbor any ill feelings towards the cargo chief as he and Alina exited.

Once outside the cargo chief’s office Alina questions, “Where do you think we can unload the kyber and make enough profit after hauling it somewhere else?”

“I’m not planning on selling it anywhere else,” is Vance’s casual response.

Alina gives him a confused look before saying, “Now I’m really lost. What’s your angle on this one?”

“We just have to wait this one out. As soon as you get back to the ship, look for some planet-side long term storage.” Vance glances to either side before continuing, “Maybe make a couple of comms on the ansible.”

Alina meets his eyes for a moment, communicating understanding before asking, “Anything else?”

Vance manages a smile, “Yeah, make sure it’s affordable, after all we haven’t been paid for this job yet.”

Alina gives a playful grin and mockingly salutes, “Aye aye, Captain Vance Renshaw.”

“Hopefully we’ll have another set of arms to help us load the grav-sled after John and I check out our lead for ship security.”