“I don’t see the point in such games,” Shey says, and bites her lip in a poor attempt to hide a smile. I roll my eyes and lean back.

“Twelve hundred.”

“One—” Shey begins, and I throw up my hands.

“Fine!” I say. “Fine, fine, I give up. A thousand it is, you pain in the ass.”

Shey grins, and I grimace back at her. It’s mostly for show. A thousand is still a nice profit for a job like this, certainly nice enough to impress my mother, and still substantially more than most people would pay for such a useless thing. All in all, it’s a success, though I’m not happy about Shey learning a glimmer of business sense. I was hoping to keep fleecing her, maybe bring in some bigger sales once I get my mother on board.

I’m so eager to close the deal that I unthinkingly spit on one glove and extend the hand to shake. When Shey physically recoils, her eyes wide with horror, I realize my mistake. I lean back and wipe my glove on my jumpsuit. The old business tradition was commonplace back on Deva, and would be fine just about anywhere else in the system, but of course Gaia is different.

“Oops,” I mumble in embarrassment, and pull out my comm. “Like I said, I’m fresh out of Deva. Sorry.”

Shey, breathing a visible sigh of relief now that the offending spittle-covered glove is gone, takes a moment to collect herself and pull up each of her gloves. She opens her mouth to speak, but is cut off by an ear-shattering boom from the next room over.

The table shakes from the impact. I scramble to my feet. My mouth opens, and out of instinct, I nearly call out for the twins—but I’m alone. Alone and unarmed.

“Oh, fuck,” I say, looking at Shey. “You said this place was safe!”

Shey is staring at the door, one hand over her mouth, the other still hovering near the illegal plant. I snap my fingers to get her attention. She yanks free from the plant, shuts the box, and shoves it across the table at me.

“Whoa, whoa, this is yours,” I say, pushing it back. My heart is starting to hammer. I’m majorly screwed if I get caught here, especially without my family to back me up. Plants from Deva are a class-one contraband item on Gaia. If I’m caught with one, there’s only one punishment: death. Off-worlders don’t even have a legal right to a trial. “You just bought it. It belongs to you.”

“We haven’t finalized the deal!” Shey protests, sending the box sliding back across the table.

“We were about to.” Push.

“You’re the criminal, you take it!” Push.

“I’m an off-worlder, you take it!”