Naomi led the junk shop owner to the recovery deck. He said, "Gimme a little time," and headed toward the piled mountain of scrap.
"Hey, Osaka," Serena said softly. "Naomi is remarkable, isn't she? I can't make sense of engines at all, but she's talking with that expert like it's nothing."
While Naomi described the scrap to the shop owner, Serena's voice carried to the tablet where Osaka answered.
"Aw, that captain? She's got a crazy good memory. Anything she sees or hears—sticks right in her head. Back at the Spaceship Graveyard, she wandered wreck to wreck while I explained parts, and wouldn't ya know it—she remembered the lot. I didn't break down every little detail, but the main parts and what they do? She's already got that down, no doubt."
Hearing their words from behind made Naomi feel ticklish with embarrassment.
Before long, the junkman finished his check.
"All right then, no plain old trash here—looks like it's all worth somethin'. Trouble is, my place alone can't take this much. Mind if I rope in a few of my buddies? Don't worry, I'll be your point man. Oh, and about that oxygen generator—what's the maker and model? ...Yeah, figured as much. Somebody out there's bound to have one. I'll ask around, and tomorrow mornin' I'll come back with the crew."
The junk shop owner said this and left.
"Heehee. He looked like he was enjoying himself, didn't he? Perhaps having a technical discussion with Naomi pleased him," Serena said.
"Yeah, I enjoyed it too," Naomi replied. "That shop felt like a town factory—craftsmanlike, yet flexible. His technical talk gave me a lot to think about."
Osaka chimed in. "So then, ship's sorted for now. Next up—food for you two. Can't tell me ya wanna keep gnawin' on them nasty rations forever, right?"
Naomi and Serena exchanged looks and nodded. They had eaten them only out of necessity, but would much rather have proper meals with vegetables.
"Oh—that's right. We don't have any money," Naomi sighed.
"Yes. If only my card worked, there would be no problem," Serena said. "Osaka, what do we need to do to make this card usable again?"
"Checked on that already," Osaka said. "Turns out, ya gotta unlock it in person at the Empire Central Bank, District 1 Main Branch."
"And... where's that?" Naomi asked.
"In Gordia Central," Serena answered. "That's the colony governed by my grandparents."
Serena explained that it was the birthplace of her mother, Empress Raphine Lyxiana Valdis.
"Then that sounds safest," Naomi said. "If we went straight to the Valdis homeworld, Perdegius, we'd definitely be caught."
"Yes, Gordia Central would be best," Serena agreed. "My grandfather's an old marquis. I used to play there as a child. My grandparents are very kind—perhaps they'll help us."
"Osaka, thinkin' about the distance from here to Gordia Central—how much food we talkin'?" Naomi asked.
"Hmm. It's pretty far," Osaka said. "No way ya'll reach it alive unless that main engine's fixed first. But if it is, ya can swing through colonies on the way, restock as ya go. Then, yeah, ya can manage."
"All right, let's work with that," Naomi said. "Tomorrow we'll know the buyout sum, plus the piston and ring Ms. Rusty promised, and maybe an oxygen generator too."
* * *
The Next Morning
Gnawing on another foul ration bar, Naomi tinkered with ship repairs using leftover materials when Ms. Rusty arrived with several trucks. Men of various ages climbed out, all with a similar rough aura.
"Well, young ladies, we'll buy what you've got," Rusty said. "These folks run junk shops like me. I told 'em straight—pay fair. And here, these pistons and rings I mentioned. Free. Use 'em however you like."
Several men hauled a piston nearly two meters long onto the bench. The ring was so big Naomi and another could have stood inside it together.
"This piston'll work once you machine the ends. The ring—file off these flanges, weld fasteners here—should do the trick," Rusty explained.
"Oh, I see. The shapes are close enough. Yes, this could work. Thank you, Ms. Rusty!" Naomi said.
"No problem," Rusty said. "Just clears up space for me. And hey—bring out that oxygen generator!"
Four men carried in the bulky unit.
"This one came from his shop," Rusty said, nodding. "We'll knock its cost out of your scrap payout. That all right?"
"Yes! Of course. Thank you so much—this is exactly what we needed!" Naomi said brightly.
Her smile drew grins from the men in return.
"We'll lug this inside for you," one said. "Ain't no way you should carry this yourself."
Following Serena's lead, they brought it into the ship's air-conditioning bay. Meanwhile, Naomi fielded questions from junk dealers clustered around the heaps of scrap.
Around noon, another truck rolled in.
"Brought lunch for everybody!" a stout woman called, leaning from the window.
The truck stopped midway inside the dock, and women hopped down from the bed. With easy rhythm, they unloaded foldable tables and set them up.
"You must be the seller," the woman said to Naomi. "Pirates been prowlin' around, so scrap haulers stopped comin'. Our stock was dryin' up—we were just talkin' 'bout hirin' a ship ourselves. You helped us. Now sit, eat—on the house."
They were the shopkeepers' wives, used to gathering this way whenever dealers docked.
"Ahhh. That was delicious. Thank you so much!" Naomi said, savoring bread, soup, meat, and fresh vegetables—such a relief after rations.
"Ha! My husband's got an appetite, but you nearly matched him," Rusty's wife laughed. "Skinny as you are, where'd you put it all?"
"Sorry," Naomi said sheepishly. "We've only had awful rations lately. I guess I overdid it."
"Outta food, huh?" the woman asked.
"Yes. We were just thinking we'd need to stock up before our next voyage," Naomi said.
"Well then," she told Rusty. "Might as well introduce her to Zaikal, the wholesaler. Near wholesale prices, right?"
"Yeah, good call," Rusty agreed. "I'll get in touch. He supplies trade ships—cheaper than any store."
After the meal, bargaining began. Piece by piece, Naomi's mountain of scrap was bought up, the deals fair and square.