The next morning, Mitch and KC arrived at the dealership before Aliki was fully awake. The air still carried the crispness of early morning, and a faint hum of activity from the spaceport barely reached the lot. Aliki stood near the entrance, arms crossed, watching the caterers unload equipment from their van as the electric cart slowed to a stop. She forced a smile, but the unease in her chest wouldn’t settle.

Mitch stepped out first, adjusting the collar of his jacket like it was armor. KC followed, his usual swagger on full display. “Morning, Aliki,” KC said with a grin. “Miss us?”

“Like a hole in the head,” she quipped with a slight smile.

“Now, that’s just hurtful,” KC called after her, but his tone was light, almost teasing. He lingered only long enough to glance at Mitch. “I’ll find Emmett and coordinate.”

Aliki arched an eyebrow. “I think Tira sent him to clean the showroom. Again. Something about high standards. She thought it didn’t look clean enough yesterday.”

KC grinned. “Cleaning? If I have to wear an apron, it’ll clash with my outfit and ruin my whole aesthetic. But fine, I’ll see what he’s up to—no promises on the mopping.” He winked and strode off toward the showroom, leaving Aliki shaking her head.

Mitch cleared his throat awkwardly. “Take this,” he said, pulling a slim, metallic device from his pocket.

Aliki eyed it warily as he extended it toward her. “What’s wrong with my communicator?” she asked, taking the device and turning it over in her hands. It felt heavier than it looked—not in weight, but in implication.

“Nothing,” Mitch replied. “Just… trust me. This one’s secure. If you need to reach me, use it.”

She tilted her head, watching him closely. His shoulders were stiff, his jaw tight, like he had something he didn’t want to say.

“It’ll pick up audio and video,” he continued, finally meeting her eyes. “Everything you see and hear. If something happens, we’ll know.”

She nodded. “Everything?”

“Yes–but you can turn it off,” he added, quickly gesturing toward a tiny, nearly invisible button on the side. “Double tap here. But, uh, I… I wouldn’t recommend it. There’s more than just me watching the feed.”

Her brow furrowed, but before she could say anything, Mitch continued, his ears reddening. “Just leave it someplace safe if you need privacy. Like when you’re, uh, changing clothes or something.”

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head slightly, her lips twitching at the edges.

Mitch’s blush deepened. “I didn’t mean… not like that! I don’t… I mean… just point the camera at a wall if you… if you need to change, okay?”

He fidgeted under her silent smile, clearing his throat again and looking anywhere but at her face. Finally, she slipped the communicator into her pocket. If Raush was watching, all he’d get was the view of an amazing amount of lint.

This is a terrible idea, she thought. If Zoron found out she had an open feed to the spaceport, he’d certainly question her. But the warmth she felt at Mitch’s reddened ears tempered the sour knot in her stomach.

“Sam,” Mitch said suddenly, his voice sharp as a third figure approached the vehicle.

Sam brushed her hands down the front of her jacket. “Relax, Mitch. I’m here to work, not cause trouble.”

“Just stay on task,” he muttered.

Sam laughed. “I was just about to tell you I’m doing just that.” Her gaze flicked to Aliki, then back to Mitch with a teasing grin. “Guess I’ll see you around, boss.”

Mitch sighed heavily as Sam walked off. Aliki watched him, curiosity and something else tugging at the edges of her mind. She couldn’t place it, but whatever it was, it wouldn’t let her look away.

She retreated inside the showroom. KC and Emmett stood near the breakroom in hushed conversation. Emmett was gesturing sharply, while KC leaned casually against the counter, observing with a faint smile.

Aliki hesitated. Whatever they were discussing, it didn’t look like they wanted company. She decided to ask them about it later; for now, there were too many unfinished tasks demanding her attention.

Scanning the room, she noted how spotless it was. Emmett had done a thorough job; there was no trace of the cardboard and packing materials that had cluttered the space the day before.

Her eyes lit on the boxes of damaged chocolate he’d placed next to an empty holographic display. The boxes felt heavier than they should as she lugged them out to the fondue table under the shaded pavilion. Maybe it was the early hour, or maybe she just needed another cup of coffee.

She placed them on the table, noting the carefully arranged trays of fruit and pastries that now accompanied the dehydrated insects next to the empty fondue pot. Someone, she noticed, had thoughtfully taken care of this. “Probably the caterers,” she murmured. Her gaze shifted to the buffet table, where workers darted between heating trays and stacks of plates while arranging colorful fruit sculptures with the precision of artists assembling a masterpiece. Their movements were brisk, their expressions all business, as though orchestrating a culinary symphony under a tight deadline.

One of them, a Draxan accustomed to cooler climates, was already wiping perspiration from zyr feathery skin with a towel. Another, a Quarnic with fan-like ears, flapped a tray toward himself with increasing urgency, his discomfort plain.

Aliki felt a pang of guilt as she realized how warm it was getting under the pavilion. The absence of the fans she’d requested was glaring. She frowned. This will be unbearable by noon, she thought, making a mental note to check on them before the guests started arriving.

Her gaze flicked to Sam, who was also watching the caterers, but from the other side of the tent, her stance deceptively casual. The sharpness in her gaze, however, set Aliki on edge. Mitch had said Sam was a spaceport maintenance tech, yet she wore the guise of a security operative like a well-tailored jacket. The thought lingered as Aliki turned back to her tasks.

Sam noticed the brief look. She walked over to Aliki and nodded toward the buffet table. “They’re doing a good job,” she said.

“Yeah,” Aliki replied, brushing her hands on her pants. “We’ve all got lots to do.”

The woman smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth barely moving. “You’ve got a lot of eyes on you today,” she said, her tone light but the implication heavy.

Aliki’s stomach twisted. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Sam nodded and turned, walking off with a purposeful stride, leaving Aliki standing by the fondue table. A bead of sweat trickled down her temple despite the morning’s lingering coolness. Why was the woman being so friendly? Her instincts prickled. Maybe Sam felt sorry for her, though the idea churned uneasily in her stomach. Pity was the last thing she wanted from anyone.

Then again, maybe she was just on edge, seeing shadows where there weren’t any. She didn’t trust people easily, and this place—with its secrets and simmering tensions—was making her suspicious of everyone, even someone as unassuming as Sam.

Aliki surveyed the reception tent one last time. The buffet table stood ready, its polished chafing dishes and serving trays reflecting the muted light. The table settings, centerpieces, and surrounding greenery radiated an ambiance of tropical paradise. At least this part’s ready, she thought, admiring the setup. Maybe she’d missed her calling. Aliki Martin, Intergalactic Wedding Planner for all your needs, from fondue to intergalactic stings. Shaking her head, she went inside.

The cool air was a welcome relief from the steadily climbing heat. Hopefully, KC and Emmett had finished whatever they’d been discussing earlier. She couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d wanted to keep it private—a thought that both irritated and unsettled her. How strong were KC’s loyalties to the Black Claws? But her progress was halted abruptly.

“Aliki,” Tira’s voice snapped from behind her, sharp enough to stop her in her tracks.

She turned to find Tira striding toward her. “Why haven’t you changed into the outfit I provided?” Her eyes narrowed as she scanned Aliki’s clothing with obvious disdain.

It was like a fist to the stomach. That’s what the metallic fabric was, she realized, remembering the garish package she and Emmett had taken from the same box as Tira’s costume. The stiff, reflective robe had struck her as odd at the time, but now it all made sense. She forced a smile. “I wasn’t sure it was for me,” she said carefully. “I’ll change before the guests arrive.”

“You’d better,” Tira snapped. “You’re the hostess, and I expect you to look the part. This is my wedding, not some tacky backyard gathering for primitives.” She spun on her heel before Aliki could respond, marching off to terrorize someone else.

Aliki exhaled, her unease doubling. Just focus, she told herself. Changing course, she headed towards the apartment, pausing outside the control room. The door was open, and inside, Salyne stood at a console, her angular cheekbones illuminated by the glow of several screens. Her fingers moved deftly over a sleek, obsidian-black control pad, its surface alive with glowing symbols and shifting data.

“Are those the security drones?” Aliki asked as she watched the live feed displayed on the monitors. Small machines hovered above the tents outside. “There’s so many of them.”

Salyne glanced up briefly, her lips curving into a thin smile. “Yep,” she said. “We’ve doubled the coverage. Zoron wants eyes everywhere today.”

Aliki stepped closer. The monitors displayed crisp, high-resolution footage of the lot, the reception area, and every corner of the surrounding perimeter. Drones hovered silently above the scene, their perspectives shifting smoothly from one location to the next. It was a level of surveillance that felt excessive, even for a high-profile wedding. Every inch of the dealership seemed exposed.

“Impressive,” Aliki said, keeping her tone carefully neutral. “But wouldn’t permanent security cameras be easier?”

Salyne straightened, her fingers tapping out a final sequence on the console. “Not really,” she said, her voice clipped. “Security cameras pick up everything—and sometimes there are things you don’t want other people to see.”

She turned to Aliki, her sharp gaze cutting through the dim light. “Bring me something to eat when you’re done gawking, will you? I’ll be here a while.”

Aliki’s pulse quickened at the dismissive command, but she forced a polite smile. “Of course,” she said lightly, her tone practiced. “I’ll bring it right away.”

As she turned to leave the control room, a bulky Tyrok brushed past her. His movements were deliberate, his posture radiating authority, and she instinctively stepped aside. “You’re a little early for the ceremony,” she offered, trying to sound casual. “This isn’t the reception area.”

The Tyrok turned, his expression unreadable but clearly unimpressed. Before Aliki could press further, Salyne interjected with a sharp laugh. “He’s not here for the wedding,” she said smoothly. “Mawry is part of Zoron’s security detail.”

Aliki nodded, masking her unease. “Of course. I’ll let you get back to it.” She left the room, but as soon as she reached the hallway, she hesitated. Pausing just outside the doorway, she let her gaze drift to the wall, pretending to examine a fingernail while her ears strained for the conversation inside.

“Once the guests are in, I’ll lock the doors,” Salyne said coolly. “If you need out, you’ll have to call me.”

“What if they don’t cooperate?” came Mawry’s low grunt, tinged with annoyance.

“Keep them calm,” Salyne replied, her tone as smooth as ever. “If things go south, handle it quietly. Zoron doesn’t want a scene.”

Aliki swallowed hard, her chest tightening at the implications. What are they planning? she wondered, dread creeping into her thoughts. The low hum of equipment from the control room pressed against her nerves as she forced herself to walk on.

The swish of a door caught her attention, and she glanced up just as Zoron exited the apartment at the far end of the corridor. His broad frame and tribal tattoos gave him an air of menace, and the predatory glint in his eyes only heightened the effect. He strode toward her with purpose, not bothering to hide the disdain in his gaze.

“Move,” he barked, brushing past her. His shoulder clipped hers, sending a jolt through her already-frayed nerves.

Aliki steadied herself and continued down the hallway, the tension coiling in her gut like a spring. She reached her apartment and closed the door behind her, leaning against it as though the solid surface could shield her from the weight of what she’d overheard. This isn’t just a wedding, she thought. It’s something far worse.

She found a tray in the kitchen and began piling an assortment of snack foods and drink pouches onto it. Her hands moved mechanically, her thoughts elsewhere. The Tyroks treated all of this as routine, but to her, the entire event felt like a tightly wound coil, ready to spring. Her stomach churned as she adjusted a pouch precariously perched on the edge of the tray. Just get through this day, she told herself. One step at a time.

The metallic fabric Tira had chosen for her caught her eye, shimmering obnoxiously on the dining table. Aliki’s jaw tightened. I’ll look like a gaudy solar flare waiting to happen. She grabbed the bundle of cloth and carried it into the bathroom.

The garment defied comprehension. What initially seemed like a robe had two narrow leg openings and layers of draping fabric that didn’t seem to have a purpose. After stripping to her underclothes, Aliki made a neat pile of her daily wear and placed it on the counter. Her OmniCom slipped from her pocket, hitting the floor with a dull clatter.

“Aliki?” Mitch’s voice whispered through the tiny speaker. “Everything okay? I heard a crash.”

Aliki winced and scooped up the device. “Everything’s fine,” she said quickly, inspecting the scratch that now marred the screen. Mitch’s face appeared, the crack giving him the illusion of a scar. “Sorry. It fell.”

He sighed. “You’re not, uh, changing, are you?”

“I was,” she admitted, setting the OmniCom on the counter, careful to angle it away. “But you can’t see anything.”

“Good,” he muttered. “Look, just… be careful today, okay? Things are heating up.”

“Yeah,” she said absently, eyeing the bizarre garment. “How do you feel about tube dresses?”

Mitch snorted. “I’ll leave the fashion advice to someone else. Just keep your head down.”

The device went silent, leaving Aliki alone with the monstrosity of fabric. After several failed attempts to wear it, she emerged from the bathroom, the garment tied haphazardly and draped unevenly over her frame.

“Aliki?” Tira’s shrill voice cut through the quiet. Aliki froze as Tira appeared in the doorway, resplendent in lime green and silver robes that swished with every exaggerated movement. She clutched a feathery accessory, her claws twitching as her gaze landed on Aliki.

Tira’s pupils went wide. “What have you done?” she demanded, her tone somewhere between amusement and horror.

“I wasn’t sure how to wear it,” Aliki admitted, gesturing at the mismatched folds. “It’s… complicated.”

Tira let out a high-pitched laugh, an odd, staccato sound that grated on Aliki’s nerves. “Humans,” she said, shaking her head. “Always overthinking.” She rushed forward, her claws tugging at the fabric. “No, no. This goes here. And this—” She paused to giggle. “This stays loose. You’re not wrapping a package.”

Minutes later, Aliki stood stiffly as Tira stepped back to admire her work. “There,” Tira declared, her tone smug. “Now you look presentable.”

Aliki turned toward the mirror. The outfit clung awkwardly in places, the metallic material reflecting the light like a poorly wrapped gift. Her boots were the only thing grounding her in reality.

“Perfect,” Tira said, swaying slightly as she adjusted the feathery ornament in her claws. Without warning, she thrust the accessory onto Aliki’s head. The strange headdress was a monstrosity: large multicolored plumes extended from the top, while metallic fabric covered the base, nearly invisible beneath an avalanche of silver sequins. The fabric draped awkwardly over Aliki’s ears and onto her shoulders, and as soon as she moved, the headdress slipped sideways.

“I can’t wear this,” Aliki protested, steadying the ridiculous creation with both hands. “It’s impossible to keep on. I’d have to hold it in place the entire time, and I wouldn’t be able to do anything else.”

Tira’s eyes narrowed. “It’s the only way anyone will see you in a crowd. You’re one of the shortest humans I’ve ever encountered.”

Aliki straightened, indignation flashing in her eyes. “Emmett will be there too, and I’ll be standing near the entrance. People will find me just fine without this… thing.” She gestured to the precarious headdress.

Tira wavered for a moment. Finally, she relented with a huff. “Fine.” She adjusted her robe with exaggerated care before adding sharply, “Now, remember: keep everyone in the reception area until the ceremony starts. And don’t mess this up.” Her tone shifted suddenly, becoming sharp, but the slight dilation of her eyes and the faint sheen on her skin suggested she was under the influence.

“Of course,” Aliki said, her tone betraying a flicker of realization—of course she’s high on chocolate at her own wedding. Tira, however, took the response as submission, her smirk widening with satisfaction.

The woman spun on her heel. “Good. Do your job, and maybe you’ll avoid the mining planet.”

As the apartment door closed behind her, Aliki exhaled, her composure slipping. She yanked the headdress off and tossed it onto a chair with a frustrated sigh. Straightening the draping fabric of her outfit once more, she grabbed the tray and braced herself for what came next.

She didn’t have to wait long. Almost as soon as Tira left, there was a knock at the apartment door. She opened it to find Mawry standing there, with another male Tyrok close behind. Aliki frowned.

Zoron’s lackeys had unreadable expressions. They stepped inside without waiting for an invitation, their eyes sweeping the room with the efficiency of seasoned operatives. “We need this space for a private meeting,” Mawry said. “You can leave now.”

“Make yourselves comfortable,” Aliki said, her voice carefully light. She gestured toward the kitchen. “Help yourselves if you’re hungry.”

The lackeys exchanged a glance but said nothing, one of them heading toward the couch while the other lingered near the doorway.

She grabbed the tray of food she’d prepared for Salyne and left the apartment, forcing herself to walk at an unhurried pace. The hallway felt tighter now, the weight of the overheard conversation pressing against her resolve. By the time she reached the control room, her composure was a fragile facade.

“Here,” she said, handing the tray to Salyne. The woman barely glanced at her before resuming her work, the live drone feeds still dominating the monitors.

Aliki made her way back to the showroom, her pulse still hammering from the day’s escalating tension. This isn’t just a wedding, she thought again. It’s a powder keg.

And she was on the short fuse keeping the flame at bay.