Bremerton T. Port leaned heavily on the haft of his hoe and scratched his beard. He sucked distractedly at a tooth and nodded.
What he nodded at was the capital ship that had landed in his field. That was new.
A hydraulic gangplank opened, hailed with a jet of steam and a hiss.
A young man in a pressed military outfit stumbled down out of the overlarge craft. He seemed confused by his surroundings, as if the comings and goings of atmospheres and biospheres were alien to him. He only stopped his slack-jaw survey when he saw another recognizable hominid.
“Lo, old man!” the officer called over, accompanied by a gesture that was stuck somewhere between wave and salute.
“Yep,” Brem nodded in return.
A compliment of uniformed men flanked the officer and marched directly up to Bremerton. Only the leader continued to survey the land in all its verdant glory.
Out of consideration, Brem looked around too. Nothing he didn’t see everyday, he figured. He presumed this young man wasn’t used to so much green coming from space as he did.
“I say good morrow, old sir. You have my apologies for needing to borrow this field on your planet. We were between stations when we found ourselves short on fuel and were forced to land… here…. Where exactly are we?”
“This here is my land; Port land,” Brem Port motioned with his free elbow at the expansive hemp field and back toward his house which was well out of sight.
“Portland? Excellent! Yes. Where is your nearest port, then?”
Old Brem took to scratching his beard for a spell. He couldn’t quite figure what it was the man wanted to hear. “Reckon you’re on it?”
The young man looked again at the high reaching plants. “This… this looks more farm then port.”
“Hemp farm,” he corrected with a sharp nod. “Useful spot of plant. Good fer buildin’, ropin’, clothin’ and all manner of horsin’ off.”
It was the first he’d seen the young man look hopeful. “Do you think we could use it for fuel?”
Brem had never thought much of it. The seed boiled out an oily juice well enough. “We use the juice fer drinkin’. Burns well enough going down. I guess you could use it for fuel.”
The boy could barely contain his excitement. “Capital! Very good. Could I bother you for some?”
Brem hesitated. He knew a chance to make a sale when he saw one. “Got anything fer trade?”
“I have no currency that I could expect you to recognize.” The young captain struggled in thought. “I have a bronze-cast model of my ship.”
“Sold to the dummy in the jumpy pajamies.”
