The hum of the ground-to-space transport shuttle thrummed beneath them, a steady vibration that seemed to resonate in Natalie’s bones. She glanced over at Michael, who sat by the window, eyes fixed on the rapidly receding ground below. The boy’s expression was tense, a crease of uncertainty furrowing his brow as the curve of the planet became visible, clouds stretching out like brushstrokes across a canvas of green and blue. This journey was different from his usual short hauls to the shipyard. Today, they were heading out to one of the high-end stations where lawyers, station executives, and corporate representatives made their deals. It had been less that 24 hours since she told Micheal that his last living relative in the system had died. He had just gotten home from an academic trip for the high school, found out that there had been an accident involving his great uncle. He started working on an old freighter in the yard while waiting on news when a yard supervisor sent him down to the planet to Family services where he met up with Natalie Graves. But the lawyers were moving fast to protect their corporate clients, so after a quick meal from the cafeteria in the Family Services building, they were now on their way to a meeting.
Natalie adjusted her bag on her lap, taking a breath to prepare herself. She’d been running through the facts in her head since they’d boarded: the payout, the legal jargon, and the goal of ensuring Michael’s future was protected. Michael’s great-uncle had arranged for him to get an exceptional education at the yard, and he was already on track to graduate high school with 4.0 average and an Associate of Applied Science (AAS) degree in programming (robotics) and an Associate of Science (AS) degree in engineering (ship maintenance). It was an incredible achievement for a fifteen-year-old, and she was determined to keep him on that track—he’d earned it, and his uncle had fought hard for him to be given the chance.
But Michael didn’t know this, not yet. Nor did he or Natalie Graves know that the Advance program he was in, was actually designed by his late mother. That it was then continued to be used by the grandparents then lastly his great uncle. The programmed focused on allowing student who learned more by doing and hands on work than book work a chance to really excel. The hands-on reinforced book learning, to form a reinforcement in the learning process. The fact that his mother trained him on memory and learning techniques since he was crawling till her death, help out a lot with his learning.
Michael Aubrey and Natalie Graves sat side by side in the shuttle, watching the other ships and different stations drift by as they made their way toward the high-end space station for their meeting with the lawyers. The journey had been quiet so far, with both of them occupied by their thoughts about the upcoming negotiations, but as they passed a small cluster of freighters moving along a nearby trade route, Michael’s expression suddenly changed.
He broke into an involuntary giggle, his usually serious demeanor cracking just enough to catch Natalie’s attention. She turned to him with a curious smile, raising an eyebrow. “Alright, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you giggle like that,” she said, grinning. “What’s so funny?”
Michael glanced out the window again, pointing subtly toward one of the freighters in the distance. “See that ship over there? The big one, kind of bulky and awkward-looking?”
Natalie squinted, trying to make out the freighter among the stars. It was a massive ship with a utilitarian design, lacking any of the sleekness of the passenger shuttle they were on. “Yeah, I see it,” she replied. “What’s the deal with it?”
Michael’s grin widened, and he shook his head, clearly amused. “That’s one of the ships we used to call the *Bull Shit Express* when I was working at the space yard.”
Natalie’s eyebrows shot up. “The *Bull Shit Express*? Now you have to tell me about that.”
“Well,” Michael said, still chuckling, “they’re actually freighters with a pretty unique job. They run a route from the beef space ranches where they raise cattle and pick up... well, bovine waste. Tons of it. And they transport it to specialized space farms, like the O’Neil farms in orbit around the other planets, where it’s used as fertilizer for crops—especially for places that grow kosher or halal foods.”
“Oh my god,” Natalie laughed. “So, it’s literally… a bullshit freighter?”
“Pretty much!” Michael said, leaning back in his seat, obviously enjoying the chance to talk about the more absurd side of his time at the space yard. “And they’re ‘kosher’ or ‘halal’ ships in a way too. They’re usually staffed with a Rabbi or a Muslim cleric, depending on the destination, to ensure everything follows the proper requirements. The ship itself has to follow strict guidelines for handling the material, and they’ve got protocols for purifying and processing it, so it’s all very regulated. But the nickname just… stuck.”
“Only you would have a story like this,” Natalie said, shaking her head, laughing along with him. “So, let me get this straight. They’re essentially floating fertilizer tanks that have to meet religious standards?”
“Exactly,” Michael said, still grinning. “I’ll never forget one of my supervisors saying, ‘If it’s gotta go somewhere, it might as well go for a good cause!’ And somehow, a freighter captain convinced a top company to bankroll his whole operation. I think I was told the original freighter captain sold his business and retired to some planet. Now there are 2 companies run by Rabbis, and I think there are now 3 runs by Clerics from different Muslim sects. It’s the weirdest, most ingenious way to recycle waste I’ve ever heard of.”
Natalie laughed; the tension of their upcoming meeting temporarily forgotten. “Well, I guess that’s one way to make the galaxy a greener place. But *Bull Shit Express*? Really?”
“Oh yeah,” Michael replied, leaning back and glancing at the freighter with a fond look. “The name’s become a sort of badge of honor for the crew. I bet they all take pride in it. It’s not every day you get to say your work really fertilizes the future. One crew even had their slogan "Pure Bullshit, no Politics added." anodized on the side of the ship."
As they drifted closer to their destination, the two of them continued sharing stories, the laughter helping them relax before the serious work awaiting them on the space station.
Natalie turned toward him, offering a calm smile. “I know this is a lot, Michael,” she said softly, watching as he glanced back, his guarded expression softening slightly. “It’s normal to feel a bit… out of place. I want to make sure you understand what we’re going to be doing and why.”
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Michael nodded, shifting in his seat. “I know we’re meeting with the lawyers, but… I don’t understand why we’re going to such a fancy station just for that. Is it because of the accident?”
“Yes,” Natalie said gently. “It’s about the accident, and also about making sure that what your great-uncle wanted for you continues, as best it can.”
Michael’s eyes darted away, staring at the darkening sky as they approached the atmosphere. “What did he want?”
Natalie hesitated. How much should she say? She didn’t want to overwhelm him with legalese or burden him with things he couldn’t control. Yet, Michael was far from the typical teenager, and he had an unusual understanding of adult responsibilities. “Your great-uncle put you in a very advanced schooling program,” she explained. “You’re on track to graduate high school with dual college degrees, and he wanted to make sure you’d be able to complete those at the yard. We’ll be talking to the lawyers to help protect those rights, especially so you can stay on the track he set up for you.”
He looked at her, surprised. “You mean… to make sure I can keep working at the yard?”
“Yes,” Natalie nodded. “We want to make sure you have every chance to keep doing what you love. But we also need to address the insurance and wrongful death claim against the yard. The accident wasn’t just… a tragedy—it was preventable. This meeting is about holding the people who were responsible accountable and securing a settlement for you.”
Michael’s face grew unreadable as he processed her words. She wondered if he fully grasped the importance of this step, and decided it was best to keep things as clear and straightforward as possible. “Michael, in this meeting, I need you to remember to let me speak for you when I can. The lawyers and executives we’re meeting… they don’t always have the best interests of others in mind. They’re here to protect their own interests.”
“You think they’re going to try to take advantage of me?” His voice was quiet, but there was a hard edge in his gaze, a distrust that had developed over years of witnessing adult failures and missteps.
“Possibly,” she said honestly, meeting his eyes. “And that’s why I want you to lean on me. I’m here to protect your rights and your future. This meeting can be challenging, but I’ll do everything I can to make sure you’re treated fairly. If you have a question, feel free to ask, but otherwise, try to defer to me.”
Michael nodded, absorbing her words as he stared at his hands, which were resting on his lap, fingers fidgeting in the way she’d come to recognize as his way of calming himself.
The transport began to shake gently as it ascended further, breaking through the last wisps of atmosphere. In a few minutes, the planet was little more than a vibrant sphere below them, and they’d entered the quiet, endless dark of space. Natalie glanced around at the other passengers, most of whom were dressed in polished uniforms or sharp business attire. It was a world removed from the grittier atmosphere of the repair yard, where Michael felt most at home. She could see how out of place he felt here, his shirt slightly rumpled, the collar poking up awkwardly from his jacket. She reached over, straightening it for him with a gentle smile.
“You’re doing fine,” she assured him. “This is just one more step. You’ll get through it.”
He offered a small smile in return. “Thanks, Ms. Graves. I just want this to be over.”
“I know. And it will be, soon enough.”
A soft chime announced the final approach to the station. Michael turned to the window, his expression caught between apprehension and curiosity as the sleek, silver structure came into view. This station was one of the pricier ones, a hub of corporate dealings and high-stakes transactions. Rows of brightly lit portholes lined the outer rims, and a web of walkways connected several segments, giving it an intricate, spider-like appearance.
Natalie couldn’t shake the feeling of stepping into enemy territory. She wasn’t particularly fond of these types of stations. They felt cold, sterile built less for comfort and more for transactions. She’d seen firsthand how the legal system could turn into a machine, and she feared that Michael, despite all his resilience, would struggle to endure what was essentially an impersonal fight for numbers and compensation.
“Do you know much about your great-uncle’s business dealings?” she asked, hoping to give him a sense of control over the situation. Michael knew a lot, but there were details, contracts, and financial entanglements that went beyond the technical work he’d been so passionate about.
“Not really,” he admitted, glancing over at her. “Uncle Alex taught me a lot about fixing ships and running diagnostics, but… not about all this.” He gestured to the view of the station, its vastness, its aura of wealth and power.
“That's completely normal,” she reassured him. “He wanted you to have hands-on experience. And that’s what’s important—the skills you’ve built will serve you well, no matter what.”
As the transport drifted closer, the docking module latched onto their ship with a faint shudder, and the station’s logo, a simple silver emblem with geometric lines, rotated slowly outside the window. The passengers began to gather their belongings, briefcases clicking shut, polished shoes shifting impatiently.
Natalie glanced at Michael, sensing his unease. “Remember what we talked about. Let me lead, and if you’re uncertain, just look to me.”
Michael nodded, a determined look settling in his eyes. She saw something of his mother in that look—Isabella’s bravery and kindness, the ability to push through uncertainty. Though Michael was so young, he seemed far older, shaped by the resilience that a hard life had demanded of him.
The transport’s door hissed open, and they were directed into a sleek corridor, a polished, sterile tunnel that led to the main terminal. The hallways were pristine, marked with directional symbols and smooth, unblemished floors. As they stepped into the terminal, Michael’s gaze darted around, taking in the opulence with quiet fascination.
The space station’s interior was unlike anything he was used to, the yards he’d grown up in rough and industrial by comparison. Here, the metal gleamed, reflecting lights embedded in the walls, and large holographic advertisements floated mid-air, advertising ships, parts, and investment opportunities.
“Why did my uncle have his meetings here?” he asked, the question catching Natalie slightly off guard.
“Your great-uncle was an important provider of services for some of the corporations that own parts of this station. He was responsible for a lot of contracts for repairs, construction, and refits that were worth a great deal.” She gestured around them, indicating the polished environment. “It’s not all glitz and glamour. Deals happen here, things that support the yards and keep them running.”
He nodded thoughtfully, studying a display of a sleek spaceship with faint recognition. “I think I worked on a ship like that,” he said absently, and she could see the spark of interest in his eyes.
“Yes,” she said, smiling at his reaction. “They might even bring up some of those projects during the meeting. They’ll likely try to demonstrate how much they valued his work, but don’t be fooled—they’ll try to minimize their client’s responsibility too.”
He looked at her, brow furrowed. “So, what do I do? Do I just let them say whatever they want?”
“Not exactly. You’re free to ask questions if you need clarification or want to understand something better. But mostly, leave the hard negotiating to me,” she explained. “Your job is to stay confident but defer when you need to. If I need you to clarify anything, I’ll let you know. Just stay calm and keep your focus. You’re a strong young man, Michael, and you’re far more capable than they’ll expect.”
They arrived at a doorway leading to the legal sector, its glass doors reflecting their faces back at them.