Aliki Martin stood at the main console, her fingers hovering over the buttons in what could only be described as a desperate attempt to reason with technology. The display, however, remained steadfast in its refusal to cooperate, flickering with the kind of smug indifference usually reserved for cats and malfunctioning elevators. She pressed a series of buttons, each one blinking back at her as if to say, “Nice try, human. But no.”

Behind her came the sound of a heavy, metallic sigh—the kind of sigh only a being with titanium-plated limbs and an entirely unearned sense of superiority could manage. “Ach, if ye poke at it one more time, ye’ll be breakin’ it altogether,” came Emmett’s unmistakably mechanical, yet strangely accented voice. His foot scraped against the metal floor, completing the picture of a grumpy robot who, in another life, might have been a surly Scottish pub owner.

Aliki’s hands twitched, resisting the very strong urge to smack both the console and Emmett, in no particular order. “How do I get the shield to reset?” she asked, trying to keep her voice level.

“Oh, let me just wave a magic wand, shall I? Ye’re after makin’ a bigger mess, lass. Leave it alone before ye make the whole place explode.”

Explosions were, in her experience, best avoided. But it wasn’t like she hadn’t been trained for this—well, trained might be a bit of an exaggeration. More like handed an instruction manual and wished the best of luck, which, in retrospect, might explain a lot about her current predicament.

Aliki bit back a sigh, knowing full well that trying to reason with Emmett was about as effective as reasoning with the console—both were stubborn, and both, apparently, enjoyed watching her squirm. “So, any actual suggestions on resetting the shield?”

The droid straightened with a dramatic huff, the servos in his joints whirring like an overworked blender. “Suggestions? Oh, aye. Suggestion number one: stop pokin’ at it like it’s some sorta toy. Suggestion number two: let me handle it.”

Before she could protest, he was already elbowing her aside, which, given his construction, was less like a nudge and more like being gently bulldozed. Aliki stepped back, arms crossed, watching as the metallic busybody adjusted the settings with all the grace of a mechanic trying to outwit a toaster.

“Ye humans,” Emmett muttered under his breath, his artificial fingers flying over the controls. “Always thinkin’ ye know everythin’. Pushin’ buttons like ye’re playin’ a game o’ Space Invaders when ye should be waitin’ an’ thinkin’.”

Her jaw clenched. The insult to her species was not lost on her, nor was the fact that he was, yet again, right. The lights above them flickered ominously, casting the room into a brief, unsettling darkness, then bathing it in a dim neon green as the overhead backup light kicked in. Aliki froze as her eyes adjusted, her pulse quickening. Great, now they were dealing with a blackout.

“Well, now ye’ve done it,” Emmett’s voice cut through the gloom like a particularly sarcastic butter knife. “What’d ye go an’ break now?”

She turned sharply towards where his voice came from, her eyes narrowing despite the fact that glaring in the near-dark was profoundly useless. “I didn’t break anything! You think I caused a blackout by pressing a button?”

“Aye, wouldn’t put it past ye,” he grumbled, his hands moving with disturbingly efficient ease over the now powerless console. “Here’s how ye get it back up,” he muttered, flipping a few switches like a pilot with far too much experience flying blind.

With a mechanical hum and a flicker of light, the room came back to life. The console began its slow reboot, systems coming online one by one with the kind of hesitation reserved for employees showing up late on a Monday morning.

Aliki’s hands clenched into fists, her frustration bubbling beneath the surface like lava in a poorly-designed volcano. She exhaled slowly, trying not to let it show. Emmett was just a machine—an annoyingly smug machine—but a machine nonetheless. There was no reason to let him get under her skin, except for the tiny, insignificant fact that he was succeeding spectacularly.

“Ach, there it is,” he muttered, straightening with a sense of satisfaction that could only be described as undeserved. The final light blinked on, and the room hummed with energy once again, as if nothing untoward had ever happened. “Next time, ye might try listenin’ before ye go pokin’ about.”

She ground her teeth together, a habit that was becoming distressingly common since she’d started working here two days ago. Arguing with him now wouldn’t solve anything, and she had a sinking suspicion it would only make him smugger, if such a thing were even possible. The power was back on and she hadn’t accidentally fried any systems. This counted as a win.

A quick glance at Emmett showed him casually fixing the remaining issues, his movements precise and efficient. There was no rush, no sense of urgency. The world could be collapsing around him, and he’d still take his time.

She took a few steps back, flexing her fingers in an attempt to restore some circulation after clutching them tightly for the last few minutes. In her past life, she’d never had to deal with tasks like this—button pressing and console managing. No, she’d been a ward in a diplomat’s household, where her mind was her greatest asset. Words, smooth negotiations, and clever manipulation had been her tools. Here? Here she was dealing with old spaceships and temperamental technology, and there was no amount of smooth talking that could make this console cooperate.

The steady sound of boots clicking against the tiled showroom floor caught Aliki’s attention, snapping her out of her thoughts. She glanced up, her eyes falling on a worn leather jacket that looked like it had seen better days—though not in the last decade. A blond stranger stood in the doorway, his grin so casual it bordered on presumptuous. Aliki straightened, instinctively pulling her professional face into place.

The man surveyed the dusty consoles and flickering screens like someone who expected little and was pleasantly surprised to find even that expectation exceeded. His gaze finally landed on her, and the corners of his mouth lifted in a way that made Aliki wonder if he practiced that expression in a mirror.

“Welcome to Goose Cruisers. How can I help you today?” she asked, as if she often expected strange men to walk into the control room unexpectedly.

The man waved a hand as if they’d been friends for years. “I hear you’ve got a Stellarion Metsu for sale. I want to take it for a spin.”

Aliki blinked, her mind racing to process the request. Before she could form a response, Emmett, who had been suspiciously quiet for far too long, decided it was time to grace them with his wisdom.

“Aye, go ahead, take it for a wee spin. I’m sure the boss’ll love hearin’ about yer grand adventure.” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

The man raised an eyebrow, not at all deterred. “Your boss?”

Aliki shot a glare at Emmett. “Don’t mind him,” she said quickly, forcing a smile. “It’s true we’re expecting the boss soon, but we have time to show you the ship.” She gestured to Emmett, who was still smugly tinkering with the console. “Besides, he’s just the hired help.”

Emmett snorted but said nothing, apparently satisfied with the chaos he’d already caused.

Aliki turned her attention back to the stranger. “I’ll show you where it is. This way, please.”

As they walked through the showroom toward the display pads outside, Aliki cleared her throat, trying to re-establish a sense of professionalism that had been thoroughly derailed by Emmett’s commentary. “I’m Aliki, the manager of Goose Cruisers,” she introduced herself, mentally willing this interaction to proceed smoothly. 

The man flashed that same confident grin—one that could sell ice to a Martian—and gave her a nod. “KC,” he said easily. “Glad to meet you.”

They stepped outside, pausing as their eyes adjusted to the bright midday sun, which, of course, was doing its best impression of a particularly overzealous floodlight. Aliki gestured toward the Metsu, which sat proudly on a display pad, gleaming like it had just won “Best in Show” at a spaceship beauty contest.

“It just arrived yesterday,” Aliki began, falling into the well-practiced routine of a salesperson. “I expect it’ll sell quickly. It’s an older model, sure, but it’s a classic—still one of the fastest ships in its class, and it has a few luxury touches I think you’ll appreciate. I’m expecting it to be the most sought-after ship in our sale stock.”

KC raised an eyebrow, glancing around at the utterly empty lot, and widened his grin. “The most sought after, eh?” he teased.

Aliki’s face warmed, and she quickly led him to the back of the ship, touching the external control pad. The rear door slid open with a soft hiss, revealing the interior of the Metsu—a sleek, elegant design that had somehow escaped the ravages of time. 

“The cockpit is equipped with two seats, wrapped in high-end, form-fitting fabric,” she continued, slipping into a well-rehearsed spiel. “It’s designed for comfort, and the ship supports up to four standard lifeforms for up to ten days. I really like the classic lines myself—”

KC, who had wandered into the cockpit without waiting for an invitation, sat down at the controls, casually flicking switches like he’d owned the ship for years. “I’m familiar with the technical specs,” he said, cutting her off mid-rattle. “Mind if I take it for a test run?”

Aliki hesitated. She wasn’t sure exactly when her new boss, Sufsa, was expected to arrive. But then again, how long could a test run take?

“Is there something wrong?” he asked.

“No, no,” Aliki forced a bright smile. “Let’s get you into orbit so you can make me a good offer!”

He chuckled. “Sounds like a plan.” His hands were already running through the startup procedures, flipping switches and adjusting settings with ease.

Aliki watched him for a moment, her mind running through all the ways this could go wrong. But he seemed to know what he was doing, and frankly, she had bigger things to worry about—like the impending arrival of her new boss. She hurried back to the control room, where Emmett was still loitering by the console, looking suspiciously pleased with himself.

“We need to get the Metsu launched,” she announced.

Emmett glanced up, raising an eyebrow in that irritating way of his. “Well, isn’t that somethin’. Might even get Sufsa smilin’ if ye managed to sell that ship.”

Aliki ignored the dig, keeping her tone neutral. “Actually, the customer wants to take it for a test ride.”

Emmett snorted. “Aye, well, while ye were out playin’ around in the Metsu, I did a bit o’ research on yer ‘customer.’ That fella is Keefe Casey, ye know—the playboy millionaire who invented the subspace stabilizer.”

Aliki blinked. Keefe Casey? The name rang a bell, but she hadn’t expected her mystery buyer to be… well, that Keefe Casey. He certainly didn’t act like a man who could afford to buy the Metsu without blinking, but then again, KC had moved through the ship like someone who knew what he was doing. Maybe she’d underestimated him.

“Keefe Casey?” she repeated, more to herself than to Emmett. Her eyes flicked toward the  console monitor where the Metsu now hovered a few feet off the landing pad, its engines humming like a contented cat. Everyone knew about Keefe Casey, aka KC, the guy who’d made a name for himself by developing the SPCD stabilizer—a crucial bit of tech that made alien stealth ships ridiculously good at sneaking around without so much as a “pardon me.” He’d worked at Azizos Material Industries, made a fortune, then quit, citing boredom and a desire to spend more time doing… well, no one was quite sure what. 

“Yer gonna let him take off, or ye gonna stand there gawkin’ at the ship all day?” Emmett grumbled, his fingers already flying over the console, adjusting the settings. “Here ye go, ye’ll need to reset the shield once he’s clear.”

Aliki blinked, snapping herself back into focus. She moved toward the console, her hands hovering over the controls. “What happens if I forget to reset the shield?”

“Well, ye’d be fryin’ the electronics of anythin’ within fifteen feet of it, includin’ the Metsu. The EMF would burn out its system entirely, and since that ship’s got no atmospheric flight capabilities, it’d drop like a sack o’ bricks. Not exactly the best way to make a sale, eh?”

Aliki winced. On the screen, they watched as the Metsu lifted off smoothly, disappearing into the sky with the kind of grace that should have been impossible for a ship of its size. 

She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding, her shoulders relaxing a fraction.

“See?” Emmett said, flipping a switch with a casual flick. “Easy peasy. Now ye just do that again when he’s ready to come back down. Don’t mess it up.”

Aliki nodded. “I’ve got this,” she said, more to herself than to Emmett.

On the visual display, KC appeared in the cockpit, his hands gliding over the controls with the kind of ease one might expect from someone who occasionally flew ships for fun—or to escape the consequences of fun. His voice buzzed through the console’s speakers, brimming with the enthusiasm of someone who’d never had to actually fill out spaceship insurance paperwork. “Stealth system’s top notch. Smooth takeoff. And she’s fast—faster than I expected.”

Aliki smiled, keeping her tone professional. “Glad to hear it,” she replied, while Emmett, of course, leaned over and pointed to the mute button. “Ye can cut the chatter if it gets distractin’,” he murmured, though Aliki pointedly ignored him. 

Everything seemed to be going smoothly, which of course meant that it was only a matter of time before something went terribly, spectacularly wrong. And right on cue, a sharp, insistent beeping filled the room.

Emmett frowned, his fingers flying over the controls as if he could silence the alarm through sheer irritation alone. His head tilted slightly as he scanned the screen, and for the first time all day, he sounded almost serious. “Looks like yer boss is earlier than expected.”

Aliki’s heart skipped a beat. Sufsa.

KC’s voice crackled through the comms, still calm but now with a noticeable edge. “Your boss is early? Yeah, I’m picking up his ship on my sensors.” His eyes flicked toward them from the screen, one eyebrow raised, his tone almost too casual. “Guess I’ll have to make this a quick spin then, huh?”

Aliki forced a smile, though her mind was now racing, mentally running through every single thing that could possibly go wrong with a landing. No mistakes. Not now. Not with Sufsa on the way.

Without a word, Emmett left the control room, leaving her alone to handle the situation. Fine. She could do this. She adjusted one of the settings and watched the view of the landing sequence on the console’s screen, trying not to let her nerves show. 

KC’s hands moved confidently over the controls, and the Metsu responded like it was built to follow his every whim. On the console, status updates flickered to life as the Metsu touched ground, and Aliki let out a small sigh of relief. At least something was going right.

She hurried out of the control room just in time to catch up with KC as he exited the ship. Her hand was shaking ever so slightly as she pressed the button to close the door behind him.

“Nice ride,” KC said, flashing a charming grin. They exchanged a few more words about the ship’s performance, but Aliki struggled to steer the conversation toward anything that sounded like a buyer’s commitment. Five minutes passed, and a sale still seemed elusive.

Just as Aliki opened her mouth to try again, the sharp whine of engines powering down cut through the air, demanding attention. Both she and KC turned toward the noise, and her breath caught as a galaxy-class Aetherstream descended into the middle of the lot. It landed with the kind of authority that suggested whoever was aboard expected the universe to stop and take notice.

Aliki’s stomach twisted as the hatch hissed open, and out stepped a thickset Tyrok, his imposing form taking up more space than seemed reasonable. His gaze swept the lot with the kind of intensity that made Aliki wince, and when his eyes landed on her, she felt like she was standing in the path of an approaching storm.

Her new boss had arrived.

Sufsa strode forward. She had seen holos of him, of course, but in person, the effect was far more… intense. His slate-green skin was etched with tribal markings that looked more like warnings than decoration, and the rings in his pointed ears caught the light in a way that was, frankly, unsettling.

“You must be Aliki Martin,” Sufsa said, his voice as curt as the nod he gave her. “This is Zoron-Vess, my right hand.” He gestured to the hulking figure behind him, a Tyrok who somehow managed to look even more imposing than Sufsa himself, though Aliki couldn’t quite figure out how that was possible.

Zoron gave a slow, deliberate nod that made Aliki feel as though she had just been evaluated and found lacking.

Sufsa continued, his tone softening slightly as his gaze flicked between Zoron and the woman trailing behind him. “He’s also going to be my future son-in-law, since my beautiful daughter here, Tira-Vix, has chosen this oaf for her mate.”

The female Tyrok—Tira—gave Aliki the briefest of glances, more disinterested than anything, as she clung to Zoron’s arm like he was the last decent male in the galaxy. Her thick, black hair bounced as she walked, and her lips were permanently set in a pout that could have been boredom or disdain. Aliki couldn’t tell.

“Now,” Sufsa said, his eyes narrowing as he shifted his attention to KC, “why is he here?”

KC, for his part, remained completely unflustered, flashing that same casual grin that seemed to suggest he could talk his way out of a supernova. “Just interested in checking out the Metsu,” he replied smoothly, as if this was the most normal thing in the galaxy.

Sufsa’s frown deepened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “I don’t recall joy rides being part of your job description.”

KC tilted his head slightly, his grin never faltering. “I was passing through,” he said, his voice as smooth as ever. “Saw the Metsu was for sale, thought I’d take it for a spin. No harm done.”

Sufsa’s eyes narrowed even further, which Aliki hadn’t thought possible until now. “You should have better things to do,” he said, his voice low and dangerous.

KC’s smile didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something that might have been amusement, or maybe just the knowledge that he was walking a very fine line. “I’ve got everything under control.”

Sufsa leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-growl. “Just make sure I don’t catch you loafing around here again.”

Aliki, who had been watching this exchange with a growing sense of discomfort, suddenly felt very small in the presence of these two males. She shifted her gaze, only to catch sight of Zoron and Tira lingering near the Metsu. Zoron was whispering something in Tira’s ear, and when she reached up for a kiss, Aliki quickly looked away, feeling heat rise to her cheeks for reasons she couldn’t quite explain.

The silent standoff between KC and Sufsa stretched on for a few more seconds before KC finally rolled his eyes. “This place isn’t worth the headache,” he muttered, casting a brief look at Aliki, something unreadable in his expression, before turning and stalking off.

Sufsa watched KC walk away, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned back to Aliki. “Where’s he going? I didn’t see his ship when we landed.”

Aliki swallowed, her mind racing for an answer that wouldn’t sound like an excuse. “I think he parked it at the spaceport next door,” she said quickly, trying to maintain a calm, professional tone. “I didn’t see him land,” she added, hoping to deflect any suspicion. The last thing she needed was to bring up the dealership’s earlier power outage, especially since she still wasn’t entirely sure it hadn’t been her fault.

Sufsa gave her a long, considering look, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he could see right through her. Aliki’s heart raced, but she stood her ground, keeping her expression as neutral as possible.

Finally, Sufsa grunted and gestured toward the Metsu. “So, a Metsu, huh? Where’d that come from?” He stepped closer to the ship, running his hand along its side as though he were appraising it. “Nice ride. What did you pay for it?”

Aliki felt a rush of both nerves and pride. Now was her chance to prove herself. She walked around the front of the ship with him, explaining how it had come up on her feed shortly after she’d arrived two days ago. Proudly, she recounted how she had haggled the seller down, fully expecting to flip the ship for a nice profit. For a moment, Sufsa looked impressed. His eyes flickered with interest, and Aliki couldn’t help but feel a small surge of satisfaction.

But then his brows furrowed slightly. “And Keefe Casey just wanted to take it for a test drive?” he asked, his tone curious but guarded.

“Yeah, just a quick spin,” Aliki replied, keeping her voice steady despite the creeping sense of unease.

Sufsa grunted again, though this time it sounded more like acknowledgment than suspicion. “Right. I think I’ll try it out myself. Is it unlocked?”

Aliki blinked in surprise, but quickly recovered. “Yes, it’s accessible,” she assured him, leading him around to the back. As soon as he climbed inside and the door sealed shut behind him, Aliki exhaled, feeling the tension in her shoulders loosen just a fraction.

She rushed back to the control room, where Emmett was waiting, smug as ever.
“I’ve fixed the power issue,” he said with a tone that dripped with satisfaction, as if he had personally saved the day. “Ye can proceed without concern.”

Aliki resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Her fingers danced across the console, preparing the Metsu for launch. The ship lifted off smoothly, and Aliki watched the screen near her head, which alternated between the view from the Metsu’s cockpit and a view of Sufsa himself. He seemed to handle the ship with ease, though his expression remained focused and unreadable.

She watched the Metsu disappear into the sky, her heart beating faster than a malfunctioning hyperdrive. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Sufsa’s piloting skills. No, she was quite certain that if anything went wrong, he’d be more than capable of navigating it straight into a catastrophic disaster without so much as a flinch. Still, watching your boss take off in the only thing standing between you and a one-way trip back to the rehab training center had a way of making you question all the decisions that brought you here.

Emmett leaned back with the sort of exaggerated nonchalance that suggested he might have been practicing it during his downtime. “Well, isn’t this cozy,” he muttered. “Just ye, me, and an alien overlord takin’ a joyride.”

Aliki ignored him, her attention glued to the screen, where the Metsu’s view of the planet twirled gracefully. She tried to focus on the technical data, but her brain kept offering less-than-helpful thoughts, like what the resale value of a ship would be if it exploded mid-flight.

Tira and Zoron strolled into the control room as if they had nothing better to do. Which, as it turned out, they didn’t. Tira flopped into a chair with all the grace of someone who had never had to work a day in her life and intended to keep it that way. “I’m bored,” she announced, in case anyone had somehow missed her state of perpetual disinterest.

“There’s a snack area down the hall,” Aliki said, trying not to sound exasperated. “Feel free to… enjoy that.”

Tira raised an eyebrow—an expression that, in any other species, would have been a casual quirk, but in a Tyrok, carried all the weight of a formal declaration of superiority. Aliki snorted, gesturing toward the open doorway, and when Tira didn’t move, she huffed and pushed past the female’s unrelenting frame. It was like shoving a wardrobe across a carpet.

Tira sighed theatrically but grudgingly followed. Aliki hurried ahead, maybe a little too fast, her annoyance driving her pace—after all, she should be in the control room handling actual work, not babysitting two overgrown goblins. By the time Tira flopped into a chair, Zoron had caught up and made a beeline for the NebulaFlow, which hummed with the smugness of a machine entirely too proud of its limited functionality.

Aliki indicated the surrounding kitchen space with a wave of her arm. “You can make yourselves comfortable here while I check on things.”

Zoron gave her an unreadable expression as he carried his drink to a seat next to Tira. Just as Aliki was about to leave, the lights flickered once, then twice. A split second later, the entire station plunged into darkness.

The sudden silence that followed seemed almost as shocking as the blackout itself, as though even the NebulaFlow had finally accepted the futility of pretending it had any importance.

Aliki bolted for the control room. Behind her, she could hear the two Tyroks pushing back chairs as they followed.

Emmett was still in the control room, standing in a pool of sickly green emergency light, staring at the now-lifeless console with a look of disbelief. His hands fluttered uselessly over the controls, as if hoping that sheer willpower might coax them back to life.

“Ye’ve got to be kiddin’ me,” Emmett muttered, his face flushed with frustration. “I fixed the blasted thing earlier. What in the name of glitchin’ quantum gears is goin’ on now?”

Before Aliki could say anything, Zoron’s personal communicator buzzed. He glanced at it, then back at the group. “Sufsa’s asking what the trouble is,” he announced, as if the answer weren’t currently surrounding them in a putrid green glow.

“Tell him tae hold his horses,” Emmett snapped, his hands still flying uselessly over the dead controls. “I’m workin’ on it.”

Suddenly, the lights blinked back to life, flickering once before systems hummed back into action. Aliki barely had time to register relief before the sound of a high-pitched whistle began growing in the background. It started low and distant, like the world’s most reluctant kettle, and then built into a shriek that felt far too close for comfort.

It suddenly occurred to her that something large was just about to boil. Then they all heard it: a loud, unmistakable and final crash, the precise sound that a sack of bricks the same size as the Metsu would make if it had been hurled from a considerable height into an unassuming parking lot.

Aliki stood frozen as though her brain had decided to take a holiday. Emmett and Zoron exchanged a tense glance, while Tira’s bored expression gave way to shock.

Aliki’s only thought was that this was the landing she’d been trying to avoid all morning.