He points to his ship. “I have twenty-two million kilograms of Taumoeba in fuel bays. How much you want, question?” I widen my eyes. It’s the first time I’ve felt genuine hope in a long time. “Settled.” He puts his claw against the divider. “Fist my bump.” I laugh and put my knuckles against the xenonite. “Fist-bump. It’s just ‘fist-bump.’ ” “Understand.”
