Pylo was not really surprised. After all if the trio were excited by packaging mucus then of course they would find a trip to a proper piece of civilization (even if it was a smaller size habitat) utterly fascinating.

Pylo was mostly sure they could be kept safe though. Checking the port authority there was a surprisingly accommodating set of laws if she was reading things right.

Really as habitats go the customs of Red Weed were incredibly friendly.

“Yes... it should be fine for you to go out, but you need to stay in the bubble walker the entire time. The core populi may be canners but they are a lot less fragile and only practice the custom for... um dietary reasons?”

That should cover any dangers they might be able to get into... oh wait they needed a translation box didn't they?

“Oh and I suppose you will need a translation box and um... Some kind of local guide maybe? I’m going to be busy with enacting the exchange and doing maintenance on Tunie, so you will be on your own”

It took a moment for the three of them to fully come around to understanding what was just said. Which was frustrating, not squawker box frustrating but still annoying.

“Wait why will we need a translator? You are always talking about how easy it is to read us, shouldn't everyone else be able to follow what we are saying? And shouldn't you have one of those already? In fact why don’t you have one?”

Omega had settled into a bit of a more friendly demeaner but Pylo was pretty sure she was poking fun there.

“I can speak fine to most anyone, but most people are not going to be sirens, so either you are going to have to learn how to speak the local version of com-lang with all it’s idiosyncrasies or just get a interpreter box and teach it Terran... Actually wait no I’m going to have to buy you one... so I’ll put that on my list...”

Ugh she was going to have to pay for one of those.

This was not some outreach where the trader could lounge and be assured they were the center of attention for the entire world. Red Weed had over a dune of Void Courier ships judging by Tunie’s excited gossiping and then there were the Thousands of other vessels of the slower less maneuverable varieties.

Clunky Canner creations with their alloys and bulky hulls.

Sweeping leafy Gardener ships filled with ablative tissues.

Fibrous clouds of reef growth strapped with one or a dozen other propulsion methods and shielding.

The shining gems of light and wonder that drift under no visible means but deafen one in resonance.

And hundreds and hundreds of more that Pylo had never seen before and quite possibly would never see again.

Pylo did not even bother trying to think about how many local reef vessels in their innumerable varieties that were unsuited to interstellar travel. They crisscrossed the reef in caravans all around Red Weed supplying the port with the fruits of farms reaching out across the surface of the reef in every direction. Trying to count those would see her and Tunie dead of old age before she was half done.

But still besides the point the fact of the matter was Red Weed was going to charge for things that some barely developed fish riders would have given away for free.

And Pylo was going to have to pay for it.

Because if her passengers paid for anything it would probably end up coming out of the cargo store. And that would mean it would be something Pylo failed to deliver what she promised she would in the contract.

Ugh stupid contracts.

But still she was pretty sure that she could get one for them. And if the Terrans could manage to build something with basic uplift primers then surely an actual port town could manage it.

Although Pylo had a sinking suspicion she might be asked to help.

“So yeah, I’ll get you an interpreter or a squawker box or whatever they do for dealing with that here... and some kind of local guide so you don’t do anything illegal and then I’m going to be bogged down with maintenance, getting Tunie medical check ups and securing a deal to make sure we actually turn up a profit on our Grist stores here...”

Omega blinked a bit and tilted her head.

“You are sure that’s okay? That it will be alright for us to go off on our own... Even after you were freaking out over the berth being unsafe because it might run dry in a century or whatever?”

Pylo scoffed and shook her head. Making her passengers flinch a little at how the pressure wave struck them. Right be more delicate with gas exchanges.

“The bubble I made would last at least twice that! This is proper civilized space with clerks and everything you should be fine! And besides I checked their laws primer on the way here, it makes your rules seem kind of barbaric and weird. Did you know your dock authority forbid me from talking to anyone my whole stay on terra?!”

Aleph blinked a bit and looked at Omega.

“I did hear something about the diplomats getting committed, but I thought it was stress... you don’t think she-”

Omega gave Aleph a flat look then turned back to Pylo.

“Gee they forbid you from tele-groping the average citizen of Terra’s brains like a squeeze toy all the time, I wonder whatever reason they had for that... not exactly filling me with confidence here on the safety of this Crimson Frondle place of yours”

Pylo huffed more quietly and with a pout. Ah good it seemed to get Quarti and Aleph to have the right response, and it at least got Omega to smile!

She was getting better.

“Look I’m being utterly truthful here they take safety very very seriously here. They have dunʌ core species demographically listed as living together peacefully with a population more than thun times that of all of Terrans! They are old and secure enough to have an endless flow of trade ships going in and out! This is practically the safest kind of place you could hope for! This is proper civilization... And I promise I’m also going to get you a guide and a proper squawker box to deal with the translations... it’s fine”

Pylo left unsaid that places just like this were also entering the danger time when the risk of sudden and catastrophic collapses also started happening to habitats all over the reef. But nothing particularly disastrous was likely in this part of the reef for a good long while. So said most of the trade almanacs and forecasts.

So unless something entirely new snuck up on them and eat everyone they should be perfectly safe.

And even if disaster loomed Tunie and Pylo were in an excellent position to make a killing on evacuation contracts!

Also as a bonus Red Weed didn't seem to have any of her sisters, aunts, nieces or cousins in residence!

Which meant no awkward family interrogations about her love life, lack of brooding partners and her quote ‘pathological isolation fetish’ unquote.

Nevermind how having one of them ask her to explain every subtle nuance on Flatlander lexical, reproductive and biological anatomy and psychometry would have been such a pain.

Especially because none of them appreciated how efficient and kurt Pylo was with her speech. Honestly she half expected poor Aleph would have ended up a drooling mess if her sisters had gotten a hold of them.

Yes that is precisely the reasoning she would tell herself.

Really the Flatlanders should be fine in Red Weed. They were a very welcoming and safety conscious community and anything really dangerous shouldn't be able to get in through that protected bubble anyway.

And Omega, Quarti and Aleph were pretty bright and sensible about their Fragility so Pylo was sure it would be fine.

No the real question was should Pylo take them with her for the traditional post trade meeting bar crawl.

Well that and just where precisely Pylo had left Tunie’s Brush.

She had made a promise and could practically feel the quivering anticipation in her friend’s acceleration hitches as they maneuvered around traffic to get into the docking position by the big feeding tanks.