Chapter Three
Unloading and Snacks**
Nettle Station’s Dock C?7 smelled faintly of citrus cleaner, worn metal, and something that Kael suspected was cinnamon. The scent grew stronger as Gribble Sundown escorted them toward the cargo bay with the enthusiastic bounce of someone who had consumed three muffins too many.
“Your shipment should be fairly straightforward!” Gribble chirped. “Four crates of hydroponic seed packs—specialized lettuce variants, nutrient?efficient radish strains, and something called ‘Experimental Kale Plus.’”
Kessa wrinkled her nose. “Experimental kale?”
“Oh yes! They say it’s even leafier than the original.”
“Nightmare fuel,” Kessa muttered.
Kael smirked. “I might make you eat some.”
“Try it and you’re sleeping in the engine room.”
Gribble clapped their hands together. “Sibling threats! Just like home. Right this way, my dearies.”
They arrived at the Starling’s side hatch, which hissed open with a slightly dramatic flair—mostly because Kessa had tinkered with the pressure seals as a joke months ago. Kael decided now was not the time to bring it up.
Inside, the cargo bay was bright, organized, and pleasantly warm. The crates sat in neat rows, labeled and secured with mag-locks.
Kessa strode to the nearest crate and slapped it affectionately. “There they are. Our first real cargo.”
Kael nodded, oddly proud. “Let’s get them offloaded.”
Gribble leaned forward, inspecting the cargo manifest with exaggerated seriousness. “Mmm yes. Everything seems in order. Except…”
Kael froze. “Except what?”
Gribble pointed at the far corner. “Except that crate there is vibrating.”
All three stared.
Sure enough—crate number four was shaking very slightly, like it had swallowed a small, polite washing machine.
Kessa whispered, “Kael… the seeds are moving.”
Kael whispered back, “Seeds cannot move.”
“Then explain that.”
He checked the tablet. “It’s supposed to be hydroponic basil.”
Kessa crossed her arms. “Is it angry basil?”
Gribble perked up. “Oh! No no, that’s just the refrigeration cycle. The older crates do a little shimmy when they shift temperature. Perfectly normal. Perfectly safe.”
Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Kessa exhaled in relief. “Good. I don’t fight plants before breakfast.”
Gribble narrowed their eyes. “After breakfast, though…”
“Well, if they start it.”
Kael cleared his throat before the conversation could devolve into something involving weaponized herbs. “Let’s unload. We’ve got a client to meet.”
Snack Justice
Unloading the first three crates was easy. Light, compact, well-balanced. Kael carried two at once to impress Gribble—who applauded like he’d just performed an opera.
The fourth crate—the “vibrating basil”—needed both twins. They maneuvered it down the ramp with exaggerated care.
Halfway down, the crate let out a loud thunk inside.
Kessa nearly dropped her end. “Okay! That one was not refrigeration!”
Kael’s eyes widened. “Just keep it steady!”
Another thunk. Then another.
Gribble leaned down to listen. “Yup! Still refrigeration.”
“That is not refrigeration!” Kessa hissed.
Before Kael could reassure her, his foot caught on something small, round, and traitorous.
He looked down.
A nutrient bar.
Specifically: one of Kessa’s favorite chocolate?berry crunch bars.
She froze. “Kael… why is that on the floor?”
“I don’t know.”
“Kael.”
He groaned. “Kessa—”
“DID YOU OPEN THE SNACK CRATE?!”
“I—no—well, maybe—okay yes but in my defense I was hungry!”
She stepped forward like she was about to give a dramatic courtroom speech. “You ate one of my bars.”
“It was one bar!”
“One bar today is twelve bars by the end of the week! It’s a slippery slope, Kael!”
Gribble watched this with complete delight. “Oh this is wonderful! It’s like live entertainment. Should I get popcorn? I can get popcorn.”
Kael held up a hand. “Nobody is getting popcorn!”
Another thunk sounded from inside the basil crate.
Kessa jumped. “That crate is judging you. That’s what that sound is.”
Kael muttered, “The crate does not have feelings.”
Thunk.
Kessa gasped. “It’s agreeing with me!”
Gribble nodded seriously. “Yes, I believe the crate has very strong opinions about snack sharing.”
Kael set his jaw. “Fine. I’ll buy you a replacement bar.”
Kessa leaned in. “Two replacement bars.”
Kael groaned. “Whatever.”
Gribble whispered, “The engine room is comfy this time of year if you need to sleep there.”
“GRIBBLE!”
Delivery Complete
They finally got the crates lined up neatly on the dockside receiving pad. A small drone zipped over, scanned the barcodes, and chirped a happy confirmation tone.
“Delivery acknowledged,” it announced in a cheerful synthetic voice. “Payment completed. Please enjoy your day, and avoid opening sealed plant crates unless trained to do so.”
Kessa glanced at Kael smugly. “See? Even the drone thinks you’re the type.”
Kael threw his hands up. “I cannot win today.”
“Oh no,” Gribble said, patting his arm through their bubble helmet. “You’re doing splendidly. First delivery on a new ship? I’ve seen haulers crash into the wrong station entirely.”
Kessa blinked. “Wait… how do you even—”
“Oh, you’d be surprised!”
Kael winced. “Please don’t finish that sentence.”
Gribble winked. “I absolutely won’t. Now! Let’s get you two settled with your client. And then—snacks.”
Kessa clapped. “Yes. Justice snacks.”
Kael sighed through a smile. “I hate that term.”
“You will learn to love it.”
As they walked toward the station’s inner hub—Gribble bouncing, Kessa munching triumphantly on her reclaimed chocolate bar, and Kael wondering how his life had already become this chaotic—there was one undeniable truth:
This was exactly what he’d hoped life in space would be like.
Cozy. Chaotic. Heartwarming.
And full of snacks.
