Aliki woke with a crick in her neck and a sour mood, both courtesy of the apartment’s ancient sofa. She’d given her bedroom to Salyne because it had a door that locked from the inside—the only door in the apartment that could physically keep Tira and Salyne apart. After an evening spent listening to Tira complain about Salyne’s presence in the dealership, all while transferring boxes of chocolate to Xyper’s van, Aliki needed some peace. The couch was lumpy, but at least she hadn’t had to referee another round of Tyrokian dramatics.

She’d gotten up early, showering quickly to avoid running into any of the Tyroks when they woke, but luck wasn’t entirely on her side. As she stepped out of the bathroom, she’d nearly collided with Salyne, who greeted her with a patronizing smile that made Aliki’s stomach churn.

Her hair was still damp when she made it to the Nebulaflow in the snack room, and the familiar scent of coffee was almost enough to improve her mood. Almost. The break room’s counter had still been cluttered with half-empty takeout boxes, remnants of KC’s visit the day before. Cold noodles in a mystery sauce weren’t her first choice for breakfast, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

With a second cup of coffee in hand, she retreated to her office, hoping to get a jump on reviewing whatever grandiose plans Tira had sent for the wedding. After overhearing the heated arguments between Tira and Salyne the night before, Aliki suspected that Tira’s obsession with controlling every detail of the wedding wasn’t purely theatrics. But now wasn’t the time to dissect it. Her strategy for the day was simple: finalize the wedding arrangements, stay out of Zoron’s way, and keep the dealership running smoothly. If she could stick to that, maybe the universe would grant her a quiet day for once.

Her quiet lasted five whole minutes.

“Lass, we’ve a situation,” Emmett announced, his mechanical frame gliding into the office with far too much energy for the hour.

Aliki sighed. “Unless the building’s on fire, it can wait. Oh, and by the way,” she added, folding her arms, “there’s nothing edible in the kitchen. Could you order supplies soon, enough to stock the apartment and snack room for at least a week?”

Emmett’s optical sensors briefly flared.

“Aye, fire might be preferable,” he replied, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “But since I’m already busy handling ICE’s request for our logs, I’ll just add ‘ordering supplies’ to my to-do list, shall I?”

Aliki frowned, setting her mug down. “What logs? What are you talking about?”

With a swipe, Emmett transferred the data on his pad to her desktop screen. “The Intergalactic Criminal Extradition bureau. They’ve requested our business and operational data logs. Seems they’re curious about our little dealership here.”

Her stomach tightened. “I suppose you ought to send them…”

She stopped as Emmett flicked the display to reveal another screen. “What’s that?”

“Zoron’s handiwork,” Emmett said, showing her the information as he scrolled down the page. “Deleted messages. Sloppy work, really. If you’re going to erase something, you ought to make sure it stays erased.”

“Deleted messages from where?”

“There’s a communications panel in the apartment guest suite,” Emmett said. “Sufsa used it all the time when he bothered to show up. And before you ask, no, that’s not all I found. Salyne’s been busy too.” He swiped again, pulling up another set of files. “Encrypted communications, sent from the control room, right under your nose.”

Aliki stared at the screen, the implications swirling in her mind. “Can you decrypt them?”

Emmett’s tone wavered, an unusual quirk for someone—or something—with the confidence of a mid-sized galactic battleship. “Decrypting? Oh, right, yes. I was doin’ that.” His optical sensors dimmed briefly, then reignited with a flicker that could have been confusion or possibly indigestion, if androids were capable of either such things. “No matter. On it now. Full steam ahead, so to speak.”

The results popped up sooner than expected, a string of decrypted text scrolling onto the display. Aliki leaned in, reading quickly. The words hit her like a gut punch. “A summit for the Black Claw leaders. During the wedding.”

Emmett tilted his head. “Oh, aye. Our friend Zoron’s planning to announce his big takeover. Ambitious lad, isn’t he?” He swiped at the data pad again. “And Salyne? She’s gone ahead and invited the Silver Fang leadership to join the festivities.”

Aliki’s jaw tightened. Cartel leaders from two rival syndicates, all cozied up under one roof? It had the same appeal as hosting a fireworks display inside a gunpowder factory. The mental image of the dealership becoming ground zero for a galactic turf war made her stomach churn in a way that even the Nebulaflow’s worst sludge couldn’t.

Her communicator buzzed, jolting her from her thoughts. She answered reluctantly, bracing for more bad news.

“This is the spaceport operations manager,” said a brusque voice on the other end. “You’ve got deliveries piling up here. Care to explain?”

“Deliveries?” Aliki frowned. “We’re not expecting…”

“Boxes and crates,” the manager interrupted. “They’ve been arriving since yesterday. They’re filling up all my storage space. Somebody over there needs to come get this stuff.”

Aliki pinched the bridge of her nose. “We aren’t supposed to leave the facility,” she told him, “But I’ll send someone.” She ended the call before he could vent further.

“I’d bet my mother’s last energon core tha’ be somethin’ Tira has a hand in. Somethin’ as in, party supplies?” Emmett said, smirking. “And who, pray tell, will be playing delivery driver? Not me, I hope.”

“You could ride over with Xyper,” Aliki suggested. “Then use the van to pick up the crates once he’s unloaded the chocolate on his ship.”

“Ah, well, there’s a wee problem with that plan, as Xyper left hours ago.”

Aliki froze. “He did?”

“Aye. Kept talking about all the delays he was dealin’ with.”

“But Salyne’s still here. I saw her in the apartment when I woke up!”

Emmett straightened slightly. “I don’ see how that concerns me,” he said, clearly enjoying her exasperation.

The weight of the situation pressed down on Aliki: two powerful cartel syndicates were converging on the dealership, apparently at the behest of Zoron and Salyne. Whether this was a coordinated effort or separate machinations was unclear. What was clear, however, was that if things went wrong, no one would lift a finger for an insignificant human managing a sham business. To make matters worse, the fragmented data logs wouldn’t absolve her in the murder investigation. Nothing definitively proved her lack of involvement, and now she faced the added challenge of Salyne’s continued presence—and the inevitable explosion when Tira found out.

Aliki snapped her fingers. At least she could delay their confrontation for a short while. “Salyne can pick up the deliveries.”

Emmett’s head tilted, his tone almost pitying. “And when Tira hears about this?”

“I’ll deal with Tira,” Aliki said firmly. “Right now, I need solutions, not more problems.”

She reached out to clear the data pad just as Salyne strode past the open office door. “Salyne,” she called. “How are the repairs coming along?”

Salyne paused in the doorway, folding her arms. “Could be better. The cooling systems are outdated. I’ve had to improvise a few parts. It’s not exactly efficient work.”

“And the power system?” Aliki asked, raising an eyebrow. “Is it stable now?”

Salyne hesitated for a fraction of a second, her expression unreadable. “Stable enough—for now.” She shrugged. “But if you ask me, you’re overdue for a full systems overhaul. Patch jobs can only hold so long.”

Aliki nodded, filing the comment away. “Is there anything I can help with?”

“Yeah. Food,” Salyne replied bluntly. “There’s nothing to eat in your apartment.”

Suppressing a sigh, Aliki leaned back in her chair. “Why don’t you head over to the spaceport? There’s a food court and the hotel restaurant—either should have something decent. While you’re there, could you pick up some supplies for the wedding? The boxes are in the spaceport storage. The operations manager can tell you were to get them. Emmett, here, can drive you over in the electric cart.”

Salyne’s expression remained impassive. “I’m pulling double duty now?” she said, her lips curling in a faint smirk.

“Consider it killing two birds with one stone,” Aliki replied evenly. “You did say you were hungry.”

“Fine,” Salyne said, turning on her heel. “I wouldn’t mind some bird for breakfast. Let’s go, Emmett.”

Aliki watched them leave, then reluctantly returned to the task at hand. Tira had sent notes that were, predictably, bursting with pomp and dripping with dramatic flair. Aliki pinched the bridge of her nose, silently debating whether her patience or her coffee would run out first, as she waded through the latest round of suggestions.

The notes swirled with Tira’s usual flair for drama, but Aliki’s thoughts kept circling back to the tension between the two Tyrokian females. “Why does Tira hate Salyne so much?” she muttered to herself, scrolling mindlessly. If this feud escalated any further, it could derail the wedding entirely. There had to have been something between Salyne and Zoron in the past. It was the only explanation that made sense for the consistent, unbridled venom Tira had, like a poorly restrained geyser of indignation, threatening to erupt at the worst possible moment.

Time drifted by in frustratingly unproductive increments. The caterer at the Hotel Slumberstar wasn’t answering her calls, leaving Aliki to draft yet another overly polite message while her stomach voiced its discontent with an audible growl. Giving in with a sigh, she abandoned her desk and headed to the snack room for more coffee.

Her cup freshly filled, she made her way to the showroom. Through the large front window, she caught sight of Emmett pulling up in a small motorized cart. She frowned, the realization hitting her: Salyne’s return was now imminent, and with it, the inevitable tempest that was Tira’s fury. Sipping her coffee, Aliki stared out at the empty lot, her mind a tangle of unease. It wasn’t so much the calm before the storm as it was the unsettling moment when the storm realized it had an audience and decided to make a show of things.

It didn’t take long. Tira swept in not ten minutes later, her expression sour. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

Aliki swiveled. “What can I do for you, Tira?”

“I’m not happy with your performance,” Tira began, her arms crossing tightly. “It seems you’ve forgotten who’s in charge here. Do you know how long I’ve spent arranging everything for this event while you’ve been busy with… other things?”

Aliki took a sip of her coffee, stalling. “I received a call this morning from the spaceport about a shipment that’s arrived. It’s being taken care of.”

Tira sniffed disdainfully. “I took it upon myself to place orders last night so that they’d be here in time. Something you should’ve been doing instead of…” She took a breath. “…whatever it was you were doing. Do you know what’s in those boxes? Decorations, guest gifts—the very things that will make this party successful. I had to order from Earth suppliers, with no clue as to what to expect. I’m sure they will be plain and low-quality, of course, but under the circumstances, I suppose they’ll do. When this is over, I’ll look forward to a proper ceremony back home.” She paused, then added “Which you won’t have to worry about.”

Aliki didn’t bite on the implied threat. “They’ll be here shortly. Salyne’s picking them up and bringing them over,” she said instead, keeping her voice neutral.

Tira’s eyes widened. “Salyne? She’s still here?”

“It wasn’t my idea,” Aliki said coolly. “Talk to Zoron if you have an issue with it.”

Tira glared at her, nostrils flaring, before spinning on her heel and storming out. Aliki let out a long breath. “Well, that went about as well as expected.”

The sound of a vehicle approaching drew her attention back to the window. The spaceport van pulled into the lot, with Salyne in the passenger seat. To Aliki’s surprise, KC was behind the wheel.

She headed outside as they parked. Salyne climbed out immediately, not bothering with pleasantries. “I need to get back to the job I’m here for,” she said, brushing past Aliki.

KC hopped out more leisurely, flashing Aliki a grin. “She’s just mad because I insisted on coming with her,” he said, gesturing to the van. “after she’d already loaded the boxes in the back, of course.”

“What are you doing here?” Aliki asked, crossing her arms.

“Long story,” he said, walking to the back of the van and opening it. “But let’s just say Mitch told me I needed to stick around when he questioned me yesterday. Afterward, I figured I’d make some inquiries of my own.”

Aliki followed him. “What kind of inquiries?”

KC chuckled. “Mitch got a strange message while I was in the office with him, so I thought I’d ask around to see if I could find out who sent it.”

“The death threat?”

“You know about it? Figures, he’d say something to you.” KC eyed the brown boxes stacked at the back of the van. “I don’t think he likes that you’re over here, by the way. Seems to think you don’t know what you’re doing.”

Aliki bit her lower lip. Mitch thought she couldn’t handle this? That she was out of her depth? “Really?” she retorted. “Well. What did you find?”

He leaned in with the air of someone sharing the punchline of a joke only he found funny. “Let’s just say Zoron’s got big plans—consolidating power, making a name for himself. The wedding? Pure camouflage. Fancy clothes and decor masking a syndicate summit. It’s practically the oldest trick in the book, but here we are.”

Aliki frowned. So Emmett had been right about Zoron. And Salyne? She kept her voice steady as she asked, “Do you think any of the other cartels will show up?”

He shrugged, his clear blue eyes locking onto hers with unsettling intensity. “I only talked to a couple of Black Claws. Why?” A flicker of curiosity danced across his face. “You know something I don’t?”

Aliki shifted her weight and pretended to examine a box, the cardboard edges suddenly fascinating. KC seemed to want to help, but she couldn’t forget he was also a member of the cartel. Did she dare trust him with what Emmett had uncovered?

She took a steadying breath. “I was just wondering. When you said it’s the oldest trick in the book, I thought maybe I missed something. So… you think the death threat came from another Black Claw?”

KC gave her a sharp look, the grin fading slightly. “You do know something. What are you getting at?”

“Mitch told me it wasn’t from you,” she said carefully. “He also said ICE told him to leave you alone. Did you find out who actually sent it?”

KC leaned against the van, a flicker of thought crossing his face. “ICE has been sniffing around here for weeks. Curious bunch. If they think you’re tied to anything shady, well…” He flashed her a grin, half-wry, half-serious. “Let’s just say they’re not above finding a convenient scapegoat. And, if more than just Black Claws involved, they’re certain to dig deep.”

Her stomach twisted. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Call it professional courtesy,” he said with an infuriating grin. “Or maybe I just enjoy watching you squirm. Keeps things interesting.”

Aliki studied him as they worked together to move the boxes into the showroom. KC was undeniably attractive, and there was something she genuinely enjoyed about their conversations—his easy charm, his sharp wit. But she didn’t really know him, and the nagging suspicion that he was withholding something important refused to leave her mind. At least he didn’t seem to think she was incompetent, unlike Mitch. Her irritation flared at the thought of Mitch and his condescending attitude. She couldn’t wait to see him again, if only to set the record straight and give him a piece of her mind.

KC shifted another box onto the pile, his movements as casual as his grin. “You know, Aliki, you’re getting a front-row seat to a real masterpiece of chaos here.”

She paused, setting down her box with a skeptical glance. “Is that what you call it? I’d have gone with ‘slow-motion disaster.’”

He chuckled, leaning against the wall of the showroom as if the world weren’t teetering on the brink of a cartel turf war. “Disaster, chaos, opportunity—they’re all the same thing, depending on where you’re standing. Zoron? He’s betting big. Thinks he can tie a pretty bow on this summit-slash-wedding and come out the king of the syndicates. Bold move, I’ll give him that.”

“And you’re just… okay with that?” Aliki asked, narrowing her eyes. “I would’ve thought Black Claws were supposed to stick together.”

KC raised an eyebrow, the grin fading slightly. “Stick together? Sweetheart, we’re not exactly a galactic knitting club. Loyalty in this business has an expiration date, and Zoron’s about to push his past the limit. Thing is, you don’t step into a power vacuum unless you’re ready to deal with the fallout.”

Aliki frowned, her stomach twisting. “And you? Are you part of that fallout?”

“Not if I can help it.” His smile returned, sharper now. “I’m not looking to be anyone’s collateral damage. That’s the thing about playing both sides—you get to walk away when the dust settles, as long as you know when to cut your losses.”

She studied him, unease prickling at the back of her neck. “So, what are you really doing here, KC? Warning me out of the kindness of your heart?”

His gaze met hers, a flicker of something almost sincere crossing his face. “Let’s just say I’ve got my reasons. Zoron’s not the only one who can place a bet. Sometimes it pays to keep a few pieces in play, even if they don’t know the whole game.” He gestured toward her with a slight nod. “You? You’re an interesting piece, Aliki. Don’t underestimate how far that can get you—if you play it right.”

Aliki’s voice hardened. “I’m not playing anything.”

KC tilted his head, that maddening grin widening. “Oh, you’re playing, whether you like it or not. The trick is figuring out what you’re playing for—and who’s playing you.”

He handed her the last box with a nonchalant flourish. “You’re welcome,” he said, his grin widening as he strode back to the van like he hadn’t just casually upended her entire morning.

As the van pulled away, Aliki stood frozen, the weight of the party supplies in her arms a distant second to the crushing uncertainty pressing down on her. The day wasn’t over, and the stakes weren’t just climbing—they were skyrocketing.

The afternoon dragged on as Aliki slouched back in her office chair, her stomach letting out a low, impatient growl. She’d successfully avoided both Tira and Salyne by pretending to search for another ship to sell, though her focus had been on combing the news feeds for any scrap of information about the Black Claws and the Silver Fangs. So far, the search had turned up nothing except an old vid recounting the mysterious death of Sufsa’s wife several years ago.

A chime interrupted her thoughts, and Mitch’s voice crackled over her comm unit. “How’s it going over there?”

Aliki sighed, rubbing her forehead. “Oh, you know, the usual chaos. What do you need?”

“To talk with you—somewhere private,” Mitch replied, his voice lowering slightly.

“There isn’t exactly a ‘private’ area in the dealership, unless you count the empty pantry in my kitchen. And I’m not squeezing in there with you.”

Mitch chuckled. “Are you hungry? How about dinner at the hotel restaurant? It’ll give us a chance to talk without prying ears.”

“Dinner?” Aliki perked up. “What about the lock down?”

“What about it? KC treats the lockdown like a suggestion, strolling back and forth between here and there, and your repair tech just demonstrated how far my authority actually goes—not far enough. That’s going to change soon, but I can’t get into it right now. Let me handle a minor headache here first, and I’ll swing by to pick you up.”

“Don’t keep me waiting,” Aliki said, a grin sneaking onto her face despite herself. “I might faint from starvation before you get here.”

Mitch arrived just as the dealership slipped into an uncharacteristic lull. Zoron and Tira had retreated to their suite with a tray of food samples from the wedding supplies, while Salyne and Emmett buried themselves in technical schematics in the utility room. Aliki hesitated, a flicker of guilt surfacing at the thought of sneaking out, even though no one seemed to notice or need her presence.

As she climbed into his electric cart, she caught the weary expression on his face. “You’re late,” she said, hanging on to the side while he did a U turn.

“You would be too if you’d had to arbitrate a custody dispute between a customs droid and a Jynari mother over her…handbag,” Mitch replied as they headed towards the spaceport.

Aliki blinked. “A handbag?”

Mitch nodded. “Turns out, it wasn’t a handbag. It was a carrier for her larval-stage baby. The droid insisted it didn’t pass the bio-scan. Apparently, ‘larva’ sounded too much like ‘pest’ for its liking.”

Aliki’s laughter bubbled out before she could stop it. “Please tell me you didn’t confiscate her baby.”

“Of course not,” Mitch said, rolling his eyes. “But only after I convinced the droid to classify the handbag as personal protective equipment. Let’s just say no one came out of that conversation happy. ‘Cept maybe the baby.” He grinned.

The hotel restaurant was nearly deserted, its dim lighting casting muted shadows over the modestly arranged tables. A bored-looking server—a Marudan, Aliki observed, with shimmering skin that shifted hues like rippling water—handed them menus without much enthusiasm.

She scanned hers, frowning. “Poached duck?” she muttered.

Mitch glanced up. “What?”

“Their duck,” Aliki repeated, her brow furrowing. “It’s been poached. I’m surprised they say that on the menu. That’s illegal, isn’t it?”

Realization dawned on Mitch’s face, followed by a barely concealed smile. “It means cooked in wine, Aliki. It’s a method of preparation, not a crime.”

Her cheeks warmed. “Oh.” She jabbed a finger at the menu. “Well, I’m not eating it anyway. It’s a dead animal.”

“Technically, it’s a bird, but suit yourself,” Mitch said, his grin widening. “I think I’ll try it. Sounds tasty.”

Over the meal, his tone turned serious. “ICE is sending someone. Grennir Raush, a senior agent. They’re tired of waiting for leads and want to push things along.”

Aliki swallowed. “Push how?”

“They’re hoping to use you as a scapegoat,” Mitch said, leaning back in his chair. “Not because they think you’re guilty, but to make the cartel think ICE is off their backs. If the cartel believes that, they might get sloppy and make a move.”

“So, they’re dangling me as bait,” she said flatly.

He hesitated. “I don’t like it either. But… well, you’re stuck in this mess, and eventually the truth will come out.”

“You don’t think I can handle this?” KC’s words echoed in her ears. When she saw his frown, she set her fork down carefully, her hands curling into fists. “No.”

His brow furrowed. “What do you mean, no?”

“I’m not going to be your scapegoat,” she said, meeting his gaze. “I haven’t done anything wrong. And I won’t let ICE—or anyone else—decide my future for me.”

“Do you think you have a choice?” Mitch’s voice was softer now, but his eyes were sharp. “This isn’t about guilt or innocence. It’s survival. You’re lucky if you walk away from this alive, let alone with your freedom intact.”

“And if I don’t?” Aliki pressed. “If ICE uses me, I get shoved back into HIS with a reputation that guarantees I’ll never get out. I won’t survive another contract. Not like that.”

His shoulders tensed, his fingers drumming against the table. “You think I don’t get it? I’m trying to protect you, Aliki.”

“Why?” she demanded.

His fidgeting stilled, and for a moment, the mask slipped.

“Because I’ve seen what happens to people who stay in this life. They get swallowed whole. You’re not like them. You shouldn’t even be here.”

The words cut through her frustration, leaving an ache she didn’t want to acknowledge. She drew a slow breath. “Then let me help. But on my terms.”

He blinked. “Your terms?”

“I want a deal,” she said, leaning forward. “If I’m going to be their bait, I want guarantees. My name gets cleared. My independence is secured. No more contracts, no more HIS.” Her voice hardened. “And I want it in writing.”

Their eyes met, the tension between them palpable. Finally, he nodded. “Alright. I’ll see what I can do. But Aliki… this is dangerous. You’d better be ready for what comes next.” He leaned forward, his voice lowering. “Grennir Raush is no ordinary agent. He’s a stickler for protocol, but he’s got a reputation for getting results. If he thinks dangling you as bait is the quickest way to draw the cartel out, he won’t hesitate. And if the plan backfires… let’s just say his track record shows he’s not big on damage cleanup.”

Aliki’s eyebrows climbed. “What does that mean?”

“It means Raush plays the long game,” Mitch said grimly. “You’re just a piece on the board to him, one he won’t think twice about sacrificing if it means checkmating Zoron and his syndicate. That’s why we have to make this deal airtight—on your terms.”

“I’m ready,” she said quietly. For the first time, she felt like she might actually mean it.

The hum of the electric cart filled the silence as Mitch drove her back to the dealership. Aliki broke it with a confession. “I need to tell you something. About the logs and the wedding.”

Mitch’s eyes narrowed. “Go on.”

She told him everything—Emmett’s discovery, KC’s cryptic warnings, and the revelation that the wedding was a cover for a cartel summit. Everything except the chocolate smuggling. She couldn’t bring herself to admit how much she’d helped Zoron just to protect herself. When she finished, Mitch’s jaw was tight.

“You’ve been sitting on this?” he asked, his voice clipped.

“I didn’t know if I could trust you,” Aliki admitted.

Mitch exhaled slowly, but said nothing, his frustration evident but contained.

He dropped her off and Aliki watched him drive away, her chest tight with a mix of relief and unease. For better or worse, she’d placed her trust in Mitch. Now, she could only hope it wasn’t a mistake.

She walked into the dimly lit showroom, her thoughts looping back to Mitch’s warning about ICE’s plans. The idea of being used as a scapegoat gnawed at her and Mitch’s assurance that he’d protect her only went so far. How could he protect her, when in the grand cosmic scheme, they were both just…human?

The showroom was eerily quiet. The ancient posters on the walls and the unused hologram projectors felt more like exhibits in a museum of false promises than the remnants of a once-bustling dealership. What she’d thought represented a future full of potential now just looked like old and discarded dreams. No one with ambition would spend any longer than they needed working here.

Thinking of Emmett, she felt a brief pang of understanding for his cynicism. Maybe this place had worn him down. Maybe she should talk with him. She needed some answers. If only she knew what questions to ask.

She found him in the utility room, bent over a disassembled panel, tools scattered around him like a chaotic mosaic.

“Where’s Salyne?” Aliki asked.

Emmett didn’t look up. “She’s off in the apartment, catching some sleep. Why do they call it ‘catching’ sleep, anyway? Like it’s something you chase down. Humans are funny like that, always wanting to catch something—then acting surprised when they’re stuck with it, like a cold. Baffles me every time.”

Aliki leaned against a metal cabinet. “What are you working on?”

Emmett finally straightened. “Faulty parts in the power system. Found ’em after you left. Just finished swapping them out. Funny thing is, I inspected all this after the crash. Replaced a few string inverters in the power supply equipment that were running a little hot, but these faulty surge protectors? They weren’t there then.”

Aliki frowned. “So they just appeared?”

“Like a bad rash,” Emmett said, folding his arms. “Don’t get me wrong—these things do break down over time, and nobody’s bothered replacing them since I started working here. Could they all fail at once? Sure. But it’s about as likely as a Tyrok learning to tap-dance. Doesn’t sit right with me, if you’re asking.”

She recalled the earlier conversation with Salyne about patch jobs and her stomach sank. “Anything else broken?”

“Not yet. But give it time.” Emmett grabbed a datapad from the counter. “By the way, I ordered those pantry supplies you were whining about earlier. Should be here in the morning, assuming no calamities interfere.”

“I wasn’t whining,” Aliki said, rolling her eyes. “I was pointing out a glaring deficiency in your management skills.”

“Call it what you want. Either way, food’s coming.”

She watched him collect tools into a carrying bag. As the conversation lulled, Emmett glanced at her. “You’ve gone quiet, lass. What’s on your mind?”

Aliki opened her mouth to tell him it was none of his business, but quickly snapped it shut. He was trying to be helpful, and she was being defensive.

“Tell you what,” Emmett said, his tone turning uncharacteristically light. “Why don’t we take a break? I’ve got somethin’ that might help you put all this into perspective.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Another rant about efficiency in cooling systems?”

“Better.” He grinned. “An ol’ fashioned movie. It’s called Star Wars. Ever heard of it?”

Aliki shook her head. “A movie? You mean a vid?”

“Somethin’ better. You’ll see.” He put the tool bag on the counter and headed towards the doorway. “C’mon, it’s about time you learned what real heroism looks like.”

The break room lights dimmed and the wall monitor flared to life as Emmett fiddled with his datapad. He sat bolt upright in his chair, the very picture of someone expecting to be knighted by the opening crawl of a long-lost cosmic gospel. The sheer reverence in his posture was enough to make Aliki suspect he was silently swearing fealty to the galaxy far, far away.

“So, who’s the hero?” Aliki asked, her gaze flicking between the screen and Emmett.

“Lots of them,” Emmett said. “But pay attention to C-3PO. That droid’s a legend.”

As the movie played, Aliki asked a steady stream of questions. “Why is the princess so calm? Who’s that hairy guy? Why doesn’t the droid do anything useful?”

Emmett answered each one with growing enthusiasm. “Chewbacca. He’s a Wookiee. And as for C-3PO, he’s not useless. He’s the glue holding this operation together, whether they realize it or not.”

But as the story unfolded, Aliki felt herself unwinding. Emmett wasn’t trying to teach her a lesson or change her perspective; he was simply sharing something he enjoyed. For a little while, she allowed herself to escape into a world where the heroes won decisively, even if Emmett insisted that a droid, not a Jedi, was the real champion of the story.

She glanced at him occasionally. He seemed very human at times–there were even moments when he paused mid-sentence or seemed distracted, his gaze distant. It was vaguely unsettling, but she decided not to tease him. Not tonight.

When the credits rolled, Emmett leaned back with a contented sigh. “See? Inspirational. You could use a little Jedi training yourself.”

Aliki rolled her eyes. “Thanks for the unsolicited life advice.” But despite her words, a small smile tugged at her lips. “And… thanks for ordering supplies. And for this.”

Emmett gave a mock salute. “Just doing my part to keep you sane, boss.”

As she made her way back to her apartment, the weight of the day felt a little lighter. The movie’s message lingered in her mind, reminding her that even the smallest acts of defiance could make a difference. She was suddenly glad she’d confided in Mitch. She needed to focus on finding the right path forward, whatever it may bring. For now, it was enough to know she wasn’t facing this alone.