John was still on the communication channel, locked into his Captain Picard persona, and he just kept talking in one long incredible unbroken sentence, moving from topic to topic. I couldn’t get a word in but it’s like not he noticed. He flowed from praising our mine placement to declaring he'd now take it upon himself to rally the other Todds and track down the enemy flagship “as a matter of pride.” Somewhere in there, he also reassured me the system would be fine without us, like we were just overprotective babysitters.

  Trying to cut through the monologue, I joked, “Well, maybe we’ll go find a pleasure planet then.”

  John paused mid-sentence, blinked at me like I’d just spoken in static, then said, “It may not be a pleasure planet, but I do know a place where you can relax.”

  Apparently, NeuroGenesis had a collection of forward bases scattered across Alliance space with some unmanned and others kept off the grid for ‘sensitive operations.’ He transmitted several slipstream paths to these hidden oases, each labelled with code designations and coordinates.

  I skimmed through the list until one caught my eye: a moon almost identical to Earth. Blue skies, gravity within tolerance, breathable air, and even oceans with beaches. I had no idea how NeuroGenesis had managed to keep a place like that off everyone’s radar, but I wasn’t about to look a gift vacation in the mouth.

  I picked the best-looking route, plotted the course, and engaged the drive.

  No goodbyes. No ceremony. Just one last glance at the battlefield left behind—and then the slipstream swallowed us whole.

  I’d left mid-sentence.

  Honestly, I half-expected alarms or automated defence protocols when we emerged. I am sure it did have those but Laia still had access codes, and the system likely hadn’t been updated in years. The station accepted us with open arms.

  There were multiple facilities spread across the moon with a central observation space station in orbit and several research bases scattered across the moon’s surface, each one fortified and well-equipped. This had once been the site of a major NeuroGenesis terraforming and biosphere-seeding experiment, a testing ground for reshaping entire worlds and cultivating life from scratch.

  The moon wasn’t quite the paradise the file had described, but it was... good. Peaceful, even.

  The whole system was fairly unremarkable with a faded white dwarf star at its heart, a few gas giants orbiting lazily, and this single terraformed moon hanging close to one of them. The terraforming had been ambitious and mostly successful. Breathable atmosphere. Abundant plant life. Stable magnetic field. The wildlife seemed to have adapted to the environment.

  But it wasn’t without quirks.

  The gas giant’s gravitational pull created monstrous tidal shifts. The oceanic shelves would flood and empty like lungs which would result in leaving miles of beach either submerged or exposed depending on the hour. The weather system, while beautiful, was unstable with quick shifts between heat, fog, and short-lived electrical storms that crackled like fireworks across the horizon.

  Still, for a crew used to space stations, it was Eden. There were more than enough stable locations that they should be able to safely adventure forward.

  The crew was in the virtual bridge admiring the view and the feeds from the drones. The crew just... stopped. No one said anything. They just stared. Mira let out a small gasp. Kel gave a low whistle. Even Lynn, normally all business, stood there with the faintest of smiles. It was the kind of silence you didn’t break.

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  So I didn’t.

  Later, we held a meeting nothing official, just a casual sit-down in the lounge, chairs formed to everyone’s liking, drinks in hand. I asked what everyone wanted to do while we were here. It wasn’t quite shore leave, but it was close. I had planned to spend some time here. I wanted to absorb our gains and dig into the slipstream map we had taken from the bugs.

  Mira was the first to raise her hand. “I want to cook. With real ingredients. I mean, I want to try local stuff, see what grows here, what I can mix. I’ve been practising.”

  That earned some enthusiastic nods, along with a quiet mutter from Stewie about being her “official taste-tester.” But it was T’lish who lit up the most. “I saw many types of prey animals,” she said, practically bouncing with excitement. “I can’t wait to taste real meat again. It doesn’t even need to be cooked.” For a moment, our usually reserved scientist looked less like a researcher and more like the apex predator her species was, she was sharp-eyed, eager, and just a little too enthusiastic about the hunt.

  Stewie, when it was his turn, leaned forward eagerly. “I want to tinker. We picked up some weird tech in trade. I’ve identified several interesting pieces like power converters, nav nodes, and whatever a plasma-vented actuator is. I want to see if it can boost your efficiency or maybe beef up Chunkyboy’s drive output.”

  Laia nodded approvingly at that. “I’ve already sent the identified items to the lander.”

  Lynn, arms folded, didn’t hesitate. “I’ll be reviewing the deals we made. I need to get the books in order and make sure all the Telk makes it to the safe, as well as organise what we want to keep or what we want to sell.”

  Kel grinned and said simply, “I’m going exploring. I’ve got my eye on the northern cliffs with those unstable weather systems. Perfect for a real challenge. Anyone who wants to tag along, pack light.”

  Laia explained that for his safety she would accompany him with a clone, he mumbled about that taking the fun out of it.

  If T’lish had been bouncing before now she was practically vibrating with anticipation. “I will remain in the cargo bay,” she said, not looking up from the holopad she was working on. “The organic ship components… they are remarkable. The bud we recovered is full of pluripotent stem cells. Waiting for instruction. I believe I can grow it into either a transport ship or a mining vessel.”

  She tapped a few commands and a 3D model of the bioform bloomed above the table the designs looked aquatic in nature almost like a giant space whale. It pulsed faintly, like it was breathing.

  “There’s more,” she continued, eyes wide with wonder. “The tissue architecture is adaptable. I think I can rewrite its genetic template. If I’m correct, I might even be able to graft a mother blood drive into it. Create a living ship that can navigate the slipstream.”

  That drew everyone’s attention.

  “You’re saying,” Lynn asked slowly, “you could grow a slipstream ship?”

  “Grow,” T’lish confirmed, “and maybe… evolve.”

  Kel raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly would it be? A tool or a… pet?”

  T’lish hesitated for the first time. “That’s… unclear. The records Laia retrieved indicate something called a ‘personality anchor.’ It’s possible the ship would develop a behavioural profile and possibly a temperament. Not intelligence like ours, but… responses. Preferences.”

  “So… a moody mushroom with engine pods,” Mira muttered.

  “I am still translating the archive,” T’lish said. “The language is complex, metaphorical.. but I suspect it will be more like a pet but I still have much to research before I can give a complete answer”

  No one spoke for a long moment. Even Laia seemed unusually contemplative, her avatar staring at the hologram, like it might suddenly move.

  And me? I didn’t know how to feel about any of it. The idea of growing a semi-organic ship was unsettling enough, but the thought of adding another... crew member, especially one that might need raising and a pilot had left me more wary than excited. We were already a strange mix of misfits and miracles. I could already see cracks starting to form between the crew and not sure adding young ship to the mix would help with that.

  As the meeting wrapped, everyone began sketching out their own schedules for the next few weeks. I took that moment to gently but firmly remind them all that rest wasn’t optional. Shore leave was to be taken. Ideally together. I didn’t just want them to recharge but I also wanted them to bond. Camping, was a good bonding experience. I had memories of it being a quiet kind of magic, the kind where people laughed more easily and talked when the stars were overhead.

  Maybe the crew could use some of that. Maybe Laia could. She was still learning about the crew who they were and what they needed. And sometimes, the best way to understand people wasn’t through data... but through burnt marshmallows and arguments over who forgot the tent poles. That reminds me I need to teach Mira how to make marshmallows.