“Agh!” Lars exclaimed, jolting back and then reaching for his head. He had banged it on an open panel. Today was not going well.

Today, Lars hated the ship. He hated the narrow hallways and low ceilings that he barely fit through. He hated the million little compartments. He hated that everything was gray.

He pressed the covering closed above and returned to rummaging below. He had two bottom compartments pulled out like drawers. Where the hell is that opener? He had brightened the hallway lights to an almost blinding level, but it wasn’t helping.

With everything going on, Lars had thought he’d cheer himself up with a special meal. Most days he sustained himself on nutripacks—‘food of the trade’—but there was only so much bland liquid a man could take.

Lars had stowed a few canisters of soe for when he needed a reminder of home. It was actually his mother’s idea, but one he was more than happy to take. He’d use the molibox to rehydrate the fish. Its primary function was to heat nutripacks, but it did have a setting that Lars could use. He wasn’t the first Harvester Operator to bring supplemental provisions.

Lars shuddered at the thought of hot nutripack. He’d tried it once. Thank The Five he’d found the setting for cold. It even smelled weird when it was warm. Food of the trade indeed, Lars thought. Where is my damn opener?

The nutripacks were basically a processed lichen that would somehow expand in the molibox. It grew on the rock hills of Lars’ sister-world. His ancestors had left that desolate planet centuries ago—that was before FRC came and started its whole farming industry. Sometimes Lars wondered what his life would be like if his family had been among the ones that had stayed.

His mother would say that their cousins are lazy and don’t have proper values. Whatever that meant. She’d declare that those who left had earned their place, and go on and on about it. Lars had learned to avoid the subject around her. But, in private, he was willing to admit that there was a certain appeal to farm life. At the very least, he wouldn’t be out here, years from home, in this damn gray box without an opener.

Lars huffed and unhinged; the awkward bending was not working well for his back. He glanced over at Grog. The creature was sitting at the end of the hallway, watching.

“What are you looking at?” Lars said.

Grog stared back, plump scaly body resting comfortably on the floor.

“Do you know where it is?”

Grog blinked slowly.

Lars rolled his shoulders, then tried to close the compartments with his foot. The left one jammed.

“Gods damn it! I give up,” he said, slapping the wall and triggering another panel to pop out. “I really give up.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He blew out. “Nutripack it is.”

Lars abandoned the open compartments and strode aft.

“Rah,” said Grog when Lars stepped over him.

“I didn’t even come close to stepping on you,” Lars protested. He took a few more steps and then checked to see if the animal was following. “Well, come on buddy. Food time.”

Grog skittered up at the mention of ‘food,’ running past Lars to the galley. That thing could sure move when it wanted to. Lars found him waiting on the square of counter space a few moments later.

“Rah,” encouraged Grog.

“Okay, I’ll feed you first,” Lars promised.

Nutripack made a nutripet product he could have. Grog was pretty small so he didn’t eat much, though Lars had still had to give up about half of his personal storage to accommodate food for the beast. It was worth it.

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“Yes, you’re a good little co-Operator,” Lars cooed, stroking the animal’s head.

Lars plucked a nutripet from the stash he kept in the galley and deposited it in the molibox above Grog. He selected the heat setting and halved the duration. The device hummed for a moment and then beeped.

“Rah.”

“I know, it beeped. Your gross hot food is coming.”

After squeezing the nutripet onto a little metal dish, Lars sighed and expanded his own packet. “Food of the trade,” he told Grog while he waited.

Beep.

“Rah.”

“Thanks, Grog.”

The creature had gotten the blue sludge all over his nostrils and mouth. Lars suspected that they’d added dye just so some idiot didn’t mistake it for nutripack. Regardless, Grog was happily chowing down.

“We are going to have to clean you up in a bit.” Grog hated it when Lars tried to clean out his nostrils. He’d squirm and claw, but it had to be done.

Lars plucked his own meal from the molibox. He leaned against the wall and fished out the thick liquid with a long spoon. He’d heard some Operators just drink it through a tube, but Lars wanted to at least pretend it was food. It didn’t smell like much of anything when it was cold, but Grog’s plate was pungent.

Grog finished his meal and turned to look at Lars expectantly.

“That’s it,” Lars said. “Don’t look at me like that. You had your dinner.”

Grog slowly looked down at the dish and then back up at Lars.

“Yeah, it’s gone. You ate it.”

Grog dropped to the ground with a thump.

“Oh, no you don’t,” Lars told him, scooping up the beast and setting his nutripack on the counter. Lars cradled him under one arm and reached for a cloth. He wiped his buddy’s face and then grabbed a swab. “It’ll be over in a minute.”

Grog kept squirming, even after the nostril cleaning was done. Lars let him free and the creature scampered out of the galley.

Then Lars picked up his food and trekked to the cockpit. He paused halfway, outside of the immersion chamber. A longing for The Continuance pulled at his chest. He really hoped they’d let him back in soon—if only to appease his mother. She still hadn’t gotten the hang of video transmits and let him know, every time, how ‘irregular’ it was to be meeting like that.

His uncle didn’t comment on that, at least. But he did give Lars a long lecture on The Family. Maybe Uncle Aurlius can teach Mom not to stand so close to the lens, Lars mused.

Lars patted the doorway fondly, letting his eyes trace the tank and rest on his sense gloves for a moment. Then he ate a bite of his nutripack and continued forward.

“Report,” commanded Lars, upon entering the cockpit.

“Harvest elements stable,” the dry female voice began. “Power consumption within optimal range. All systems nominal.”

Lars sunk into the padded swivel chair. He felt sick, thinking about the terrible cost of that status. The hairs prickled on his arms and neck.

The AI went on to detail the various systems that were all ‘nominal’ and then confirmed that no course changes were recommended at this time. Lars leaned back and put his feet up on the dash. All three displays were set to an external feed. He gazed out at the stars and ate his disappointing meal.

Today was not his day. Lars had been woken up by an urgent message from the lawyers—urgent because they didn’t care what time it was or that Lars needed sleep. It wasn’t the Cogitare he’d met with previously but two of his staff, a man and a woman. They had opened a transmit to inform him of additional claims.

Initially, The Conglomerate had to find someone to blame for F-311246.3. It was interplanetary law. And with pressure from PRO, the fault was landing on FRC as Lars’ employer. It also didn’t escape Lars that they had far more capacity to pay fines than a first-time Harvester Operator ever would.

The new news was that FRC had now launched a counterclaim against Lars’ government. Even though F-311246.3’s population wasn’t paying Continuance fees to his planet, FRC insisted that his government had to pay for licensing. They cited some numerous precedents of license fees paid to patent holders when FRC tech was installed on foreign architecture. They even had some nonprofit examples.

After that, Lars’ government had added another counterclaim. They were saying that it wasn’t their decision to host the population or create the instance. Lars knew, firsthand, that was true.

The lawyers had also recounted something to do with it being put on older architecture. It was apparently a resource hog but doing a transfer would cost a lot too.

How was I supposed to know where to put them? The AI just… AIed.

After that, the lawyers had shared the worst part. Lars’ government was now also going after his family for damages. While it was proportionate to a family versus a giant corporation, they were looking to make Lars pay for those decisions. It could bankrupt his family and, even if it didn’t, they would be permanently shamed.

The lawyers had lost Lars somewhere in the middle of all of their jargon, but he understood the gist—it wasn’t good. The situation had just gotten a whole lot more complicated and Lars was stuck in the middle.

He had been dreading his next conversations with his mother and uncle all day. Would they know already? Would he have to break the news?

A green light flashed on the console to his right. Lars swiveled and returned his feet to the floor.

“Incoming secure video transmit,” the AI voice advised.