River Moonstone woke to the smell of rotting fruit and engine grease. He came to Mars to find a legend: an ancient earth spirit who could bless and protect the wild places of Planet Bob. Instead, he had gotten drunk on cheap Martian wine, argued about tree roots with a stranger, and passed out. Now he lay on a metal floor that hummed under his cheek. This was not a bar. This was a ship. He sat up. Garbage rose in walls around him. Broken chairs, cracked screens, bags of trash tied with wire. A small brown chihuahua stood on a heap of junk, ears up, watching him. It gave one sharp bark. "Easy, little guy," River said. His mouth tasted like a boot. A speaker crackled overhead. A bored voice spoke. "Cargo's awake. Welcome aboard. You signed the hauler contract last night. Congrats. You work for us till we reach Planet Bob." River's stomach dropped. "I didn't sign anything." "Your thumbprint's on it. You called yourself First Mate of Nature." A dry laugh. "We dump the load on Bob in two days. Then you're free." River stood. The floor tilted, and he grabbed a rail. Planet Bob. The very place he wanted to reach. The spirit he sought lived in Bob's wild forests. He had spent every coin trying to buy passage there. Ships had turned him away for a week. Now a garbage freighter carried him straight to it. For free. The chihuahua barked again and trotted to a hatch. River followed. The little dog pawed at a sealed door marked WASTE DUMP. Below the door, a small window showed stars. A new voice came. Not the speaker. A crew member ducked through the hatch, wiping oil from her hands with a rag. She was short and wide, with a wrench hanging from her belt like a sword. She looked at River the way you look at a stain. "You feed him yet?" she asked, nodding at the dog. "He's yours?" "He's the ship's. Keeps the rats down." She tossed River a ration bar. "You're on trash sorting. Metal in the red bin. Organic in the green. Get it wrong, we short your water." River caught the bar. He looked at the piled garbage, then at the window full of stars. He could complain. He could beg them to turn back. Or he could ride this ship to the one place he needed. He split the ration bar and gave half to the dog. The chihuahua ate it in two bites, then leaned against his leg. "Fine," River said. "I'll sort your trash. Just get me to Bob." The crew member smirked. "Oh, you'll get to Bob. Question is whether Bob wants you." She left. River picked up the first bag. His hands shook, but he worked. Two days, and he would stand on the planet at last. The dog stayed at his heel, watching every move.