Chapter 138

"This is absolute garbage. I didn't think it would be this pathetic," Marl hissed.

She stripped off her grease-stained work jumpsuit and flopped onto the sofa in her underwear. The recreation room’s sensors registered her spiking body temperature and responded with a sympathetic puff of cool air.

"Y-Yeah, no kidding. Making kids that age pull those kinds of shifts is pretty brutal," Taro stammered.

While he hovered around the fuming girl, he made sure to permanently sear the image of her healthy thighs into his retinas. She was rocking a thin, form-fitting shirt and a pair of equally snug half-pants. God, that’s scandalous, he thought, practically feeling his nose grow three sizes. Bless this ship.

"That’s not what I’m talking about! I’m barely older than those kids; that kind of work isn't exactly a rarity out here," Marl snapped, waving her arms wildly. "It’s the Salvage, Taro! The Salvage! They told me they’ve been melting down all the old scrap material this whole time. I can't freaking believe it!"

Taro blinked, caught off guard by her technical outrage. "Is that stuff actually worth something?"

"Is it worth something?! The companies that manufactured those parts went belly-up over ten centuries ago! A huge chunk of those components should be salvageable for reuse!"

"Huh. Interesting. So, what? You sell them to some fancy Collector or a Museum?"

"If they're in good shape, sure. But even if they aren't, you sell them as parts! There have to be functional modules in there that would fetch a killing. But melting them? Scrap Metal is worth pennies! It’s barely worth more than your damn virginity! It’s wasteful, it’s inefficient, and as a Salvager, I find it offensive!"

Marl crossed her arms, her chest heaving with indignation. Taro opened his mouth to offer a witty retort or perhaps a protest about his own market value, but the sheer intensity of her aura shut him down. To be honest, Taro hadn't seen an ounce of value in that junk. Personally, he’d wanted to chuck the lot of it out the airlock as soon as possible.

"You’re in a right state. What’s the drama?"

Bella sauntered into the Recreation Room, looking like she’d just stumbled upon a particularly entertaining car crash. Marl launched into a frantic recap of the situation. Once she finished, Bella let out an impressed whistle.

"I’m a total novice when it comes to Salvage, so that’s news to me. You’re saying there were relics from the really old eras in that pile?"

"Hmm, maybe? I didn't get a proper look at everything, but I didn't see anything ancient in that specific batch."

"I see. That’s a shame. I was getting my hopes up."

Taro and Marl both stared at her, eyes wide.

"Since when are you into antiques, Bella?" Taro asked.

Bella waved him off with a wry smirk. "Not me. It’s for my old man. If there’s stuff from the old eras drifting around out here, there might be some kind of clue, right?"

"A clue... true. Why didn't I think of that?" Marl mused.

"Now that you mention it, the Doc said this sector has been around since the dawn of time, didn't he?" Taro added, a cold sweat breaking out on his back. "Wait, this is bad. If they're just melting everything, we might be losing historical gold mines. We need to set up a proper Salvage Market, like, yesterday."

If they were just turning history into generic ingots, who knew what kind of data or records had already been vaporized?

"We need a centralized hub to manage information," Marl agreed. "Something that flags anything noteworthy the second it’s found."

"And we have to make sure the profit margin for selling the items beats the payout for melting them," Taro said, rubbing his chin. "We’d need a cheap distribution network... No, wait, that’s impossible. The scale is too massive. The area is too wide."

"It really is," Marl sighed, glancing at the Star Chart. "The Frontier is exactly what it says on the tin—the edge of Human-occupied Space. It’s endless. The population is spread thin, half the flight paths are suicide traps, and you can count the number of Stargates on your fingers."

"The overhead would be insane," Marl continued. "In some sectors, we’d be hemorrhaging money. We might have to narrow the scope."

"Bad move, kiddo," Bella interjected. "You can’t go small on a project like this. Think about it. Let’s say some lucky bastard actually gets a Salvage Market off the ground. What happens next?"

"Competitors move in," Marl answered. "But if the goal is just aggregating info, maybe that’s fine? We don’t have to own the whole thing."

"Where’s your greed? This is a massive concession!" Bella grinned. "If some corporate shark hijacks the market, they’ll have a monopoly on power. You think they’ll just hand over the 'clues' we’re looking for? Not a chance."

"She’s right," Taro said. "What if we lock it down with some legal red tape?"

"Wait, wait," Marl said, giving him a look of pure frost. "Weren't you the one constantly preaching about the beauty of liberalism and free markets?"

Oof. Right in the philosophy. Her stare is actually physically painful.

Taro looked away. "Okay, jokes aside. We can’t do it alone, and no sane corporation is going to partner with us yet. The best we can do is bake it into the general Frontier development plan."

"That sounds about right," Bella nodded.

"In that case," Marl said, "why don't we use the development around Wyoming as a model? If we build the know-how here, we can at least maintain the initiative, even if we don't have the capital to buy everyone out."

"Ah, I see. We sell the 'how-to' rather than the 'what.' That could work... actually, wait—" Taro looked up at the ceiling, a devious grin spreading across his face. "—Let’s go even bigger. Forget just the salvage; let’s overhaul the entire distribution system. If the scale is too gargantuan for any one company to dominate, we just make ourselves indispensable. Eventually, the house always wins."

"I get the 'big scale' part, but how does that make us 'the house'?" Marl asked.

"Liza, did you leave the driving to Liza for so long that you forgot?" Taro tapped his temple with a smirk. "Do you think any other company in this sector can mimic our transport routes?"

"The leader of the New Alliance has announced a massive Frontier development project... or so it says. I wonder if this place will actually turn into a city?"

Rammy looked up from a handheld terminal that looked like it had survived a war—and was at least a decade old. Her voice carried zero hope.

"The last guy said the same thing," Sophia replied listlessly, barely looking up from her empty lunch box. "Nothing changed then. Nothing will change now."

She checked her own terminal. Fifteen minutes until the break ended. Back to the grind.

"I dunno. Maybe they’ll actually give it a red-hot go this time?"

The voice was annoyingly cheerful. Sophia turned to see a man in work clothes leaning against the cabin entrance.

"Taro-san... are you done with your work?"

"Nah, not even close. Actually, I got kicked out. Maru told me I was 'in the way.' Apparently, I’m not great with 'fine motor skills' or 'following instructions.'"

"I see."

Sophia figured he was probably the salesman of the duo. The Foreman said they were repair contractors, but she’d never heard of a mechanic who was "bad at details."

"Taro-san, you and Maru-san are from the city, right?" Rammy asked.

Taro made a face like he’d just swallowed a lemon. "Am I? I mean, technically? Marl's a city girl through and through, but me? Not so much. You’re better off asking her for stories about the high life."

He jerked a thumb toward the part of the ship where Marl was currently elbow-deep in machinery.

"...Is it true you're fixing the ship for free?" Sophia asked, finally voicing the doubt that had been gnawing at her since yesterday. The Foreman claimed they’d traded repairs for a place to sleep. It was a stupidly lopsided deal.

"Sure is. But 'free' is a strong word. We’re watching how the ship reacts to the repairs over time. Gathering data, you know? Information is dough, kid. Pure profit."

Taro peered at her through a circle made by his thumb and forefinger—the universal sign for money. He was a bit crude, but he was funny. Sophia let out a tiny giggle. She didn't really get how "info" turned into "money," but at least it sounded like they were getting something out of it.

"Well... as long as the Foreman isn't tricking you, I guess it’s fine... Oh!"

Sophia slapped a hand over her mouth, terrified. If the Foreman heard her talking like that, he’d kill her. But Taro just winked at her.

"Don't sweat it. That bald old man looks like he’d be a pain about the small stuff. Your secret’s safe with me."

Sophia relaxed, her heart slowing down. "Thank you... I don't think he’s a bad person, really."

"Maybe. But without a Labor Standards Act or a Child Protection Act, things are a bit grim. What is this, Britain during the Industrial Revolution? At worst, it’s the freaking Middle Ages."

"Um... what?"

Sophia tilted her head. Rammy looked just as confused. Taro just shook his head.

"Never mind. Anyway, I’m stoked to see the Dormitory!"

"Huh? The... Dormitory? There’s nothing there."

"Are you kidding? I’ve always wanted to try communal living! You know, the whole 'giggling and having pillow fights' vibe... Oh man, the possibilities are endless."

"I... I guess? I don't really get it, but we’ll be in your care starting today."

Sophia and Rammy stood and gave a polite bow. Taro mirrored them with a grin. "Same here!"

"It’s time to head back... I’ll show you to the Dormitory once the shift is over," Sophia said.

She started walking toward the workspace with Rammy. She usually dreaded the mind-numbing sorting work, but for some reason, her feet felt a little lighter today.

Maps are seriously strategic weapons.