Aliens. That was all I heard. Aliens. I was going to meet one. An adulthood dream was about to come true. Since I first saw Star Trek when I was 21, I have wanted to be like Captain Kirk.

  While I was still basking in the absurd excitement of that realization, Lynn clicked her tongue at one of my droids, clearly unimpressed. "Are you even listening? This is important. We need to make sure this goes well."

  She was right, of course. But it was hard to focus when the words "you'll meet an alien" kept replaying through my systems like a stuck audio loop.

  After this next jump, we'd be rendezvousing with one of their contacts—a Xzte. From what Kel and Lynn had told me, he was a grey-zone salvage operator. Not quite a criminal, not quite legal. The kind of person who made a living walking the blurry line between "bargain" and "contraband."

  The Xzte operated entirely on a barter system. No credits, no standard currency or accepted trade. Which made planning this meeting far more complicated than simply flashing a black card and asking for upgrades.

  It had been a week since I'd—well—acquired my makeshift crew. And I had to admit: they'd been a godsend.

  Kel and Lynn had helped catalogue all my missing systems. There were many things I hadn't even known were supposed to be there. Together, we'd stripped their old scavenger vessel for every usable component. Their long-range scanner was already in place, and a few auxiliary systems had filled gaps I didn't realise I was limping through.

  The best part? My star map. With their nav data uploaded, I had a broader picture of local space than I'd ever seen before.

  The worst part? Their ship used a warp drive. And warp drive routes didn't sync with my slipstream pathways. It didn't have the pathways I would need to follow. So while I had more information, I still couldn't reach most of it. It was like staring through a locked door with a hundred keys… none of which fit.

  Still, we had a plan.

  They knew a contact who could work discreetly and who wouldn't ask too many questions if a sentient ship showed up with two humans and a pair of stowaway kids. Someone who could help me get the systems I needed or at least the basics.

  Nanite factories and weapons were out. Too tightly regulated, strictly military. And the black market prices? Even if I'd wanted to take that risk, we didn't have anything close to the kind of trade goods those sellers wanted.

  But Lynn had an idea.

  If we couldn't afford the top-shelf systems, we could still aim for functionality. Start small. Get me fitted with the infrastructure of a proper crewed ship like working internal kitchen and exercise room, maintenance spaces, external cargo mounts and most importantly Slipstream shielding. Kel had not been polite after his first slipstream jump. According to Lynn, most manned military ships have a shield to protect the organics inside. She suspects that Todd-class ships carry only immortals and that NeuroGenesis cheaped out.

  To get everything we wanted though, we needed leverage. Something the Xzte would want.

  And I had a feeling… they already had something in mind.

  Grass.

  That was the answer. Not guns, not crystals, not salvaged starship cores—just fresh alien grass.

  The Xzte were a herbivorous species with an absolutely absurd obsession with flavour. Their taste buds had evolved with them, layered and complex, capable of detecting chemical subtleties most species couldn't even register. Which made them fanatics when it came to new plant life.

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Food wasn't just sustenance to them, no, it was status. Culture. Art.

  Kel explained it like it was the most obvious thing in the universe. "They're always chasing the next big crop. Something rare. Something no one else has. You bring them a flavour no other trader has tasted? That's better than Telks to them, mate."

  And I had something none of their usual trade partners did—a slipstream drive.

  I could reach planets they couldn't, collect samples, and have them back in the Xzte hands while still fresh enough to keep that layered flavour intact.

  Lynn had already catalogued several promising samples from the last few planetary passes of uncharted planets. A violet-bladed grass from the amber planet. A silver moss that grew like frost across a basalt plateau. Even a tall reed-like species that released a sweet-smelling pollen when touched.

  It sounded ridiculous. Trading grass for ship systems.

  And yet, here we were—preparing to barter alien salad for hard tech.

  The galaxy, it seemed, had a sense of humor.

  The final jump was like all the others—dimensions opening and collapsing. And like always, Stewie complained the moment we dropped out.

  "I really hope we get slipstream shielding out of this," he muttered, arms crossed, stomach queasy. "Feels like my spine's trying to escape every time."

  I couldn't argue. Slipstream travel wasn't built for human comfort. And until I could shield myself, his spine would have to keep toughing it out.

  I couldn't leave the ship for obvious reasons, and I couldn't speak in public. Not directly. Sentient ships were still a grey area, and attracting attention was exactly what we didn't want. So I'd set up a drone relay. The negotiations would be handled by Lynn. Her brother was the better speaker but he also liked to please people. Not a trait for good negotiations. Lynn had that killer instinct.

  One of my harvesters sat in the middle of the market square, its cargo bay open, filled with carefully sorted samples of alien grass.

  Mira and Stewie watched the feed with me, sitting cross-legged in the crew lounge.

  "This is so weird," Mira whispered. "We're selling salad."

  "It's fancy alien salad," Stewie corrected. "It's space salad."

  On screen, Lynn stood beside the drone, arms folded, posture perfect. All business. Kel lingered behind her, hands stuffed in his pockets, trying not to look out of place.

  The Xzte approached with an odd swaying motion. Not what I'd expected at all. I don't know what I had imagined. I guess maybe something vaguely humanoid—but this…

  It walked on six legs, each with three broad, clawless toes. Its head was large, dominated by a wide, flat mouth with no teeth, but layered grinding plates, probably for pulverizing vegetation. It had four eyes spaced evenly across the front of its skull, giving it a sweeping field of view just the kind you'd expect in prey species.

  But the most fascinating part? Two thick, articulated appendages—tails? Trunks?—curved from either side of its head, moving independently. They picked up samples, flipped open containers, and gently pinched a blade of violet grass before popping it into its mouth.

  The translation droid buzzed between them, its voice dry and mechanical.

  "Sample A: unpalatable. Sample B: texture unpleasant. Sample C…"

  The Xzte paused, plucking a piece of silver moss from the tray. It hesitated, then placed it in its mouth.

  And then, I swear, I saw the Xzte vibrate.

  Its limbs twitched. Its mouth flared open and shut like a bellows. The appendages on its head curled, then straightened, then curled again.

  The droid clicked. "Sample C: euphoric response. Chemical reaction complex. Taste profile: exceptional."

  Lynn didn't miss a beat. "We have several kilos of it in cold storage. And we can get more. Lots more. But we're not giving it away."

  The Xzte blinked all four eyes slowly. One of the head-trunks tapped the translation droid.

  "State your terms."

  Lynn stepped forward. "Slipstream shielding. Full internal fit-out for crewed operation and some external cargo hardpoints. And delivery assistance for future trades."

  The Xzte hesitated, its head swaying slightly.

  "Scans show your ship is missing weapons and nanite fabrication systems. They are off the table."

  "Not asking for them," Lynn said. "Just the shielding and fit-out. And maybe a docking adapter that doesn't feel like climbing through a trash chute and a few external cargo docking points." Repeating herself.

  There was another pause. Then the Xzte gave a slow, deliberate nod. They haggled some more and she was able to get almost everything but the external cargo docking points.

  "Agreed. In exchange for your current stockpile of Sample C. Future deliveries are negotiable."

  Kel looked like he was about to say something dumb, but Lynn threw him a glare that shut him up fast. She offered a handshake, which the Xzte politely ignored in favor of tapping a confirmation into the droid's interface.

  Deal done.

  We'd traded moss for tech.

  I'd never been so proud of a plant in my life.