We pushed through the clamor of Freeport Nova’s market district and headed deeper into the heart of the station.
Our destination was a particular recycling shop.
"H-Hee... Captain, is there... is there really a furniture store back here? It’s getting so dark..."
Emulgand clutched the hem of her white coat, walking in my shadow as if trying to hide.
The shoppers we passed were a sordid lot—rough-around-the-edges cyborgs and thugs with blasters slung low on their hips. For a girl raised in the sheltered environment of a laboratory, this was likely far too much stimulation.
"Don't worry. According to the data, there’s a shop further in that handles everything from brand-new pieces to recycled goods."
"Recycled?"
"Yeah. Half the inventory is probably 'estate furniture'—stuff people didn't need anymore because they died—but I heard they also have new items diverted from official channels. You'll have plenty to choose from."
"E-Eh..."
Emulgand turned pale.
◇
Our destination, 'Scrap Interior,' was a store housed in a cavernous, renovated warehouse.
Beds and desks were crammed into every available space, a chaotic jumble ranging from rugged military surplus to the latest models still encased in their shipping crates.
"Yeah? Help you find something?"
A man who appeared to be the owner emerged, puffing on an electronic tobacco device.
"I need a bed and a desk for a new crew member. Something of decent quality and clean."
"In that case, look over here. These are ex-display models that were used in a middle-class housing sector model room. They’re technically second-hand, but they're in mint condition. Good quality, too."
He led us to a bed with a simple but warm wood-grain frame.
It featured a thick mattress with good springs, and the headboard even came equipped with a reading light. At the very least, it promised a much more "human" existence than the bare-minimum bunks that came standard on the ship.
"Emma, how’s this look?"
"Y-Yes! Just having a proper mattress is more than enough...!"
Emulgand stroked the frame, looking delighted despite her humble protests.
With that, her basic living requirements were secured.
All that was left was to arrange the delivery and head back—
Crash! CRACK!
Suddenly, the violent sound of destruction echoed from the back of the warehouse, followed by the heavy thud of something collapsing.
Then came the shouting of men and the sound of frantic, hurried footsteps.
"Damn it! Not again! We can't sell it like this!"
"Hey, prop it up! It’s going to go!"
"...What was that?"
Emma and I traded looks.
Following the noise to a corner of the warehouse, we found the shop staff huddled around a pile of wooden wreckage, clutching their heads in frustration.
"Something happen?" I asked.
"Hm? ...Nothing for a customer to worry about."
The shopkeeper spitefully kicked a wooden rail—part of what used to be a chair—that had rolled to his feet.
"It’s 'natural wood furniture' I brought in from a frontier planet. I heard organic materials were trending among the wealthy lately, so I spent a fortune to stock up... and this is the result."
Looking closer, I saw a mountain of timber that had once been tables and shelves.
Every single piece had failed at the joints, falling apart into a miserable heap of scrap.
"The structural integrity is non-existent. They fall apart from the vibrations during shipping, and if you even try to move them, they collapse... They're nothing but defective junk."
"...Hmm."
I picked up one of the fragments.
It was heavy and solid. The quality of the wood itself wasn't the issue. In fact, it was quite high-grade hardwood.
However, once I inspected the connection points, it all made sense.
"Mortise and tenon joinery, huh. ...No nails or adhesives."
"Yeah. The craftsman back there went on about 'traditional manufacturing methods' and put them together without using a drop of chemical adhesive or paint. And thanks to that, I'm stuck with this mess. What a waste."
The shopkeeper spat on the floor.
But.
My gaze was fixed on that "mountain of trash."
—Natural wood. —Unpainted. —No chemical adhesives.
I brought the wood chip to my nose and took a sniff.
A rich, sweet aroma, reminiscent of an aged spirit. This was... remarkably close to oak.
In my mind, the pieces of the puzzle clicked into place.
"Hey, old man."
"Huh?"
"I'll take this trash off your hands."
"What? ...You mean this?"
The shopkeeper looked at me with a dubious expression.
Emma whispered from behind me, "Wait, Captain? What are you going to do with broken furniture?"
"How much? I’ll buy everything you have here."
"...Are you sane? Even if you tried to repair them, you're missing half the parts."
"I'm not going to repair them. I’m going to burn them."
"Burn them...?"
The shopkeeper and Emulgand spoke in unison.
"Yeah. With this much, I won't have to worry about running out for a while."
The requirements for smoking chips are simple: low resin and a pleasant aroma. Above all, they must be free of harmful substances like paint or glue. These furniture remains had unintentionally cleared every single requirement. They were the perfect material for premium smoking chips.
"...I knew you were a strange one, but I didn't think you were the type of freak who gets excited about burning things. Fine by me. Honestly, I'd let you have them for free just to save on the disposal fee, but..."
"I'll pay for the shipping, at least. And I'll throw in a decent tip. Just load them onto the delivery drone with the other stuff."
I pulled out my terminal and opened a channel to Mina, who was out on her own errand.
"Mina? I managed to find something great over here."
"Really? I was just about to head back myself."
Mina and Lucia were stocking up on daily necessities and consumables. With our crew growing, running out of supplies would be a disaster.
"Mina, I need a favor. When we get back to the ship, can you set up something that can grind hard wood into small chips? Buy an industrial shredder if you have to."
"Wood? I mean, I can probably calibrate an industrial shredder to handle it, but... what are you using it for?"
"That’s a surprise for after we get back."
I cut the transmission and looked down at the mountain of treasure.
With this, I would finally make the ultimate bacon.