Chapter Eleven

  Kale Plus Strikes Back

  The thing about small, quiet relay stations like Greenlight was that they lulled you into a false sense of security.

  After a bowl of steaming soup, a short chat with the station cook (who insisted, insisted, that Kessa take an extra roll “for morale”), and a quick refill of honey sticks for Kessa, the twins returned to the Wayward Starling feeling refreshed, warm, and pleasantly full.

  Kael stretched as they stepped into the cargo bay. “Alright. Final environmental check for the return run. The seedlings should be fine after—”

  He stopped.

  Kessa stopped.

  Both stared.

  The crate labeled KALE PLUS – HANDLE WITH PATIENCE was…

  …vibrating.

  Not softly. Not shyly. But with the enthusiasm of a washing machine in denial.

  Kessa whispered, “Kael… the kale is breakdancing.”

  Kael exhaled, shoulders dropping. “Why. Why is it always the kale.”

  As they approached, the crate wobbled to the right… then the left… then hopped an inch like it was trying to get their attention.

  Kessa squinted. “Do you think it’s mad at us?”

  “Kessa, it is vegetation. It can’t be mad.”

  The crate hopped again.

  Kael pinched the bridge of his nose. “Alright, fine, it is communicating disappointment.”

  Kessa crouched beside it. “Did we… neglect it? Forget something?”

  Kael checked the environment panel. Temperature stable. Light cycle correct. Humidity perfect.

  “Everything’s normal.”

  A louder thump sounded inside the crate.

  Kessa flinched. “Okay. Unnormal. That is extremely unnormal.”

  Kael tapped the crate gently. “Hey, uh… kale? Settle down.”

  It thumped twice.

  He looked at Kessa. Kessa looked back.

  “Maybe,” she said cautiously, “maybe we should encourage it again? Like with the seedlings?”

  Kael groaned. “We are not giving pep talks to leafy vegetables.”

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  Kessa leaned toward the crate. “You’re doing great, buddy! Keep, uh… photosynthesizing!”

  Another thump.

  Kael sighed. “I hate that this is working.”

  Kessa grinned. “Plants love attention.”

  Kael checked the temperature one more time. “Alright. Let’s just get you stabilized, okay?” he said to the crate as though negotiation were on the table.

  Then, without warning, the crate lid released with a soft psssh.

  Kessa jumped back. “OH—nope nope nope—”

  But instead of rogue plants bursting free, a single leaf peeked upward through the seam.

  A tiny, curling green leaf.

  Kessa leaned closer.

  The leaf trembled… then straightened proudly.

  Kael narrowed his eyes. “…Is it posing?”

  Kessa gasped. “Kael. It’s showing off.”

  Then she grinned with a slow, wicked smile.

  “Kael.” “Yes?” “You know what this means?” “…What.”

  With a triumphant flourish, she declared:

  “The kale is a-head of the curve.”

  Kael closed his eyes. “Kessa…”

  She held up her hands. “What? It had to be said! It’s a kale pun! It was right there!”

  The crate shook.

  Kael stared. “Did it… laugh?”

  Kessa shrugged. “Either that, or it's trying to escape. Hard to tell.”

  Kael took a step back. “We are never hauling this strain again.”

  Kessa reached out and patted the crate affectionately. “Don’t listen to him. You’re the star of the show, leafy legend.”

  The leaf drooped slightly, as though modest.

  Kael muttered, “I swear, the plants on this ship are becoming self-aware.”

  Kessa’s grin widened. “Good. Then next time, they can help with chores.”

  Kael shuddered. “Absolutely not.”

  Securing the Star of the Show

  Between the two of them — and several patient updates from the Misty-Unit, which beeped in protest at all the commotion — they managed to reseal and re-secure the crate.

  Kael set a triple-check lock sequence.

  Kessa set a playlist titled “Calming Vibes for Dramatic Vegetables.”

  Kael didn’t even fight it.

  When they stepped back, the crate finally settled into stillness.

  Kessa put her hands on her hips proudly. “See? Teamwork.”

  Kael nodded. “Surprisingly effective teamwork. But next port? This crate goes first.”

  Kessa saluted. “Aye, Captain Kale-Hater.”

  “I don’t hate kale.”

  “You fear it.”

  Kael didn’t respond.

  He didn’t have to.

  The crate wiggled once.

  Just once.

  Enough to make Kael flinch.

  Kessa cackled.

  Departure

  Back on the bridge, Kael ran the new checklist, while Kessa added “kale wrangling” to their unofficial job history.

  “You’re enjoying this too much,” Kael said.

  “Correct.”

  “Please don’t tell Elyra we encouraged her kale like it was a toddler.”

  “Oh, I’m absolutely telling her.”

  “Kessa.”

  She gave him a sugary smile. “You love me.”

  “Regrettably.”

  The Wayward Starling eased away from Greenlight Relay, engines glowing soft blue, and angled toward their next station stop.

  Behind them, the cargo bay hummed.

  But only a little.

  And only in a slightly smug way.