If Thomas simply placed them in the soil, would they dissolve? If he "crushed" them, would the energy dissipate into the ship instead of the roots? He needed a way to ensure the tree—and only the tree—drank the profit.
Thomas stared at the translucent chips in his palm, frustration bubbling beneath his calm exterior. He had tried to crush them against the mahogany deck, but in this dream-space, they were as indestructible as diamonds.
He'd tried "planting" them in the soil of the bonsai pot, but the tree remained indifferent, its roots refusing to recognise the dormant energy locked behind the crystal's surface.
"I need a middleman," he realised.
He tapped into the ship's interface and issued a command. The ship—his great, ethereal siphon—recognised the chips as its own currency. One by one, the glowing stars dissolved into the deck, their energy flowing back into the Sovereign Voyager's core.
