The acrid smell of smoke began to seep into the control room, thick and stubborn, like a bad idea slowly taking root. Aliki wrinkled her nose just as Tira bolted for the door.
"Father!" Tira's panic was sharp enough to slice through the thickening smoke.
Without a second thought—because thinking things through wasn’t really an option at this point—Aliki chased after her, with Zoron right on her heels. They coughed as they staggered upwind, eyes stinging.
In the distance, the wail of sirens grew louder. Flames were spewing from what was once a storage hanger on the far side of the lot. Aliki stopped, but Tira stumbled towards it until Zoron grabbed her arm and yanked her back. “Wait! It’s not safe!” he shouted, as though the current environment of smoke and confusion wasn’t clue enough.
The cavalry arrived in the form of emergency vehicles, lights flashing, sirens blaring in a kaleidoscope of red and blue. The lot, which had previously been experiencing a quasi-permanent moment of peace, erupted into the kind of pandemonium that only comes when firefighters and paramedics descend en masse. Voices barked orders, and the smell of singed wiring filled the air.
Zoron held Tira back, his voice firm. “Tira, stop. We need to let them do their job.”
She blinked up at him, her breath coming in short bursts, her face a twisted mix of confusion and anguish. Nodding weakly, she sagged as though all the fight had left her in one go.
Aliki, meanwhile, stood a little apart from them, her mind trapped in a tangle of shock and disbelief. The scene played out in fragments—flashes of red lights, shouts, and the dull thud of guilt, all swirling together in a surreal blur. She should have done something. Anything.
Then came a ladder truck, arriving with the enthusiasm of a vehicle late to the party. The man who hopped off the back, however, made it clear this was no ordinary fireman. With an impressive leap (as opposed to a standard descent via ladder), he landed with all the grace of someone who’d probably leaped off the back of far too many moving objects in his day. His uniform, crumpled and slightly askew, bore the unmistakable insignia of security, and his expression was that of a man who had absolutely no patience left for anything—or anyone.
“What the hell happened?” he barked, his voice managing to be both irritated and authoritative. “Spaceport air traffic control’s having a meltdown. Looks like someone switched your shipyard shield on at exactly the wrong moment.” He surveyed the scene with a withering glare. “This is going to be an absolute nightmare for security. Who thought that was a good idea?”
Before anyone could muster an answer, Emmett appeared with an attitude that suggested he might just nominate himself for a medal at any moment. “Found the problem,” he declared, far too pleased with himself for anyone’s comfort. “String inverters overheated, but don’t ye worry—I’ve fixed it.”
Aliki froze. It wasn’t the spectacularly poor timing of Emmett’s announcement that struck her, but rather the sudden, blinding realization of precisely who had just leapt into this chaos. Of all the used ship dealerships in all the worlds of all the galaxy, Mitch Whitman had to jump impressively into this one. The last time she’d seen him, they were both navigating rehab, and she certainly hadn’t expected to find him in a security uniform here. Yet there he was—same calm demeanor, same air of someone who was about to take charge whether anyone else liked it or not.
Mitch’s eyes scanned the scene, his professional stance softening slightly when they landed on her. “Hello, Aliki. What does he mean?” he asked, gesturing with his thumb towards the droid.
Tira’s voice cut through the moment, her panic spilling over. “We need to get my father out of there!” she cried, her arms wrapping around herself as if trying to hold everything together.
Mitch looked between Zoron and Tira. His eyes narrowed. “Who’s your father?”
“Sufsa,” Aliki blurted before Tira could launch into another outburst. “My boss. He... crashed.”
“She killed him!” Tira shrieked, jabbing a finger at Aliki like she was accusing her in front of a jury. Zoron reached for her arm, but Tira yanked it back. “Sh-she murdered him! She made his ship crash!”
Mitch let out a low whistle, the kind that said, This is worse than I thought. “Alright, everyone stay calm. I need to know what happened—starting with you,” he said, locking eyes with Aliki.
Aliki glanced between Zoron and Tira, then back at Mitch. “Well…Sufsa Guuz, my new boss, showed up a little early today with his daughter, that’s Tira, and her fiance, that’s Zoron, and he decided to take a test drive in a new ship that I found…I mean it wasn’t new, it was previously owned, but I was going to turn it around at a fairly good profit…anyway, Sufsa decided to take it for a spin and then the power went off, which was really odd because it came back on rather suddenly and it’s never done that before and--”
Zoron stepped forward. “You’re not in charge here,” he interrupted, directing his growl at Mitch. “You heard her. Sufsa’s ship crashed. This place is under my control now.”
Mitch held his gaze. “Maybe. But ICE will want to know what happened. Do you really want their attention before we sort this out?”
Zoron’s smirk wavered, but he stayed silent.
Mitch nodded slightly and turned to Aliki. “Thought so. Now tell me again. Start with the test drive.”
Aliki swallowed. “Sufsa wanted to take the Metsu out for a test drive. I got him launched, then took Tira to the lounge. The power went out, and by the time we got back, he’d decided to land without support. When the power came back on, he crashed.”
Mitch turned to Emmett, who added, “Aye, that’s about right. The shield came back when the power did—likely caused the ship to lose power.”
Tira’s sobs broke through the silence, raw and jagged, while Zoron stood stiff, his arms crossed like a barrier against everything happening around him. Mitch surveyed them all before his gaze landed on Zoron again, lingering just a bit too long.
“Right,” Mitch said finally, his tone making it clear this wasn’t a suggestion. “This place is locked down until we figure out what happened. No one leaves.” He gave Aliki one last look. “We’ll talk later.”
With that, he turned and moved toward the wreckage, leaving the tension behind him to settle like dust.
*****
The next morning found Aliki slouched in an uncomfortable chair in the apartment attached to the dealership, blinking at the soft glow of data screens surrounding her. The hazy morning light from a filtered window cast a pale glow over the various tablet interfaces she’d been struggling with.
Smells of the fire still lingered, a faint acrid reminder of the chaos from the day before. Mitch had said he’d come talk to her later, but there had been no word yet. Every minute that passed twisted her stomach tighter, and the frustration of working with outdated equipment just added to her stress.
"Of all the tech that could’ve been installed here," she muttered, "I get stuck working with stuff that belongs in a museum."
She’d spent most of the night diving deep into the dealership’s electronic archives, navigating outdated systems with clunky interfaces. Every file she accessed led to another dead end. The dealership’s ancient records had been stored in the local network, but deciphering the power system diagnostics was another story entirely. Her technical expertise wasn’t enough to understand the malfunctioning systems.
She could ask Emmett for help, but the idea of admitting she was out of her depth made her bristle. The last thing she wanted was for him to smugly flaunt his knowledge. The tension between them had thickened since the crash like stale air in an old ventilation shaft.
Her stomach growled, a loud reminder that she hadn’t eaten anything decent since the day before. The manager’s apartment was equipped with a kitchen, but it might as well have been a relic of a forgotten era. Nothing there worked automatically like the appliances she’d learned to use at the rehab center. After several frustrating attempts to make sense of the equipment, she’d given up and settled for scavenging some old crackers from the cupboards.
At least the showroom snack area had a functioning beverage dispenser. She could count on the Nebulaflow for a hot drink—maybe even soup if she was lucky. She stared at one of the consoles in front of her, cycling through endless submenus and outdated protocols. If only the dealership’s systems were modern, like those at the spaceport. It would be so much easier if she could just speak to the computer instead of wrestling with outdated interfaces and buttons that only half-responded to her inputs.
Aliki had arrived at Jackrabbit Jump Spaceport two days ago, eager to start her new job at the neighboring Goose Cruisers dealership. The contrast between the modern spaceport, where ships came and went with the precision of a well-oiled machine, and the sleepy used spaceship dealership next door couldn’t have been starker.
Her journey from the Orionis system had been quick enough—an intergalactic transport to the Sol system, followed by a week-long, less glamorous trip aboard a stealthed shuttle to Earth. She stepped off at Gate 42, ready to meet her new boss, Sufsa-Guuz, the Tyrok who held her indenture contract and had paid for her training at the Humane Interplanetary Society’s Cultural Rehabilitation Center.
But instead of Sufsa, she found Emmett. Not standing there with a welcoming sign, mind you, but behind the counter of the spaceport convenience store. After a brief, entirely unenthusiastic and somewhat embarrassing introduction, he’d brought her next door to Goose Cruisers. Her training had started immediately. Not the warmest of welcomes, but it was the start of something. Hopefully.
Emmett showed her how the dealership was supposed to work, how to look for used spacecraft that could be purchased for a low price and then resold for a profit. She’d felt fortunate to find the Metsu so quickly, and to arrange for it’s purchase and delivery so easily. Now, in retrospect, she wished it had never come to her attention.
She was mid-sigh when the sound of voices made her look up. Tira and Zoron stepped into the room, their voices low and serious. Tira spotted her immediately and crossed the room with purpose.
“You there, Aliki, I want you to help me plan my wedding,” Tira said, her tone brisk and matter-of-fact.
Aliki blinked in disbelief. "Your wedding?"
Zoron stepped up beside Tira, his expression calm but calculating. “Yes, we want it to be soon,” he said smoothly, placing a hand on Tira’s shoulder.
Tira looked up at him with adoration. “Here on Earth would make it… unforgettable,” she added. "I don’t know how to plan a wedding on this planet. On Vraxos, we have entire teams for this, but I don’t want to wait. Since we’re not allowed to go home now, we’ll have to hold it here. So-- you’ll handle it."
Aliki hesitated, her mind spinning. A wedding? Now? With everything else going on? Her instincts urged her to refuse, but she held back. Zoron had made it clear yesterday, especially when Mitch began questioning them, that he intended to step in as the new head of Goose Cruisers. Maybe agreeing to help plan his wedding would be a smart way to show her competence—and secure her place here. That is, assuming the powers-that-be realized she wasn’t to blame for her boss’s death.
“Are you sure this is the right time?” Aliki asked, cautiously. “What about a memorial for your father?”
Tira’s expression darkened, her tone dismissive. “My father would’ve wanted me to be happy. We don’t drag out death ceremonies like you humans do.”
Aliki forced a smile. “Alright, I’ll do what I can.”
Tira’s eyes lit up, and she clapped her hands together lightly. “Good. I want it to be the most extravagant wedding anyone’s ever seen. Let me know when you’ve got some ideas. I have a few of my own to add.” With that, she turned and left, Zoron following close behind.
Aliki sighed heavily and turned back to the screen. She began half-heartedly searching the local network for wedding resources, feeling the weight of the situation settle over her like a cloud. The digital interface was slow, each click dragging longer than the last. She tapped her fingers impatiently, her mind already wandering back to the crash investigation.
Does Mitch really think I’m responsible for the crash? she wondered, chewing her bottom lip. As the dealership manager, was she legally responsible? And if she was, what would happen to her?
Her fingers paused over the screen, the wedding preparations completely forgotten for the moment. Her mind swirled with possibilities. Sufsa might have been an absentee boss, but he wasn’t nobody. If he owned this dealership, he likely owned other businesses across the galaxy. But did that make him important enough for people to care about his death? Or more worryingly, to seek retribution?
The thought of Tira and Zoron barely reacting to Sufsa’s death unsettled her. They didn’t seem the least bit concerned about his passing, or the crash, for that matter. Were there other family members who would care? Aliki couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something deeper going on here.
Her gaze flicked back to the screen. She wasn’t sure how long she had before someone started pointing fingers in her direction. Mitch, the security crews, and whatever investigation the Interstellar Criminal Enforcement agency, aka ICE, had launched might be scrutinizing every move she made. If there was one thing she knew for sure, it was that she'd have to prove it wasn’t her fault. But how?
The power failure. That’s where everything had gone wrong. She knew it. But what had caused it? And more importantly, could she prove that it had been out of her control? If she couldn’t show that the crash wasn’t her fault, she’d likely be on the hook for the whole disaster. And who knew what that could mean—prison time, an indenture contract extended indefinitely, or worse.
Her pulse quickened as she realized she didn’t have time to sit around playing wedding planner. She needed answers, and she needed them fast.
As she scrolled through the dealership’s systems data, a folder caught her eye—tucked deep within technical directories, far from where admin files were usually kept. Like all admin files, it was password protected, but it should have been in the main system directory, not buried here. Aliki’s brow furrowed as she typed in her managerial password and opened it. Inside were system logs. From the day of the crash.
Her pulse quickened. System access attempts had been recorded just minutes before the crash, all of them linked to… Emmett’s user ID.
Her breath hitched. Emmett’s access logs showed multiple entries, but something felt off. He shouldn’t have needed to access the power system once he’d supposedly fixed everything after KC’s test flight. Yet, there it was—his code flagged just before the power failure during Sufsa’s landing, as if he’d been in the system tweaking settings when everything should have been running smoothly.
Before she could fully process the implications, the door slid open, and Emmett sauntered in. His casual manner clashed starkly with the suspicion now unfurling in Aliki’s mind.
“How’s the weddin’ planning a’goin’?” he asked, his tone light, though she didn’t miss the hint of something darker beneath it.
Aliki quickly minimized the logs, her heart racing. “Just getting started,” she replied, forcing a smile as she watched him closely. “How’d you hear about that?”
Emmett’s gaze lingered a bit, but then he nodded, all casual-like. “Good, Tira-Vix seems fair thrilled 'bout the whole affair. Just give a shout if ye find yerself needin' a hand,” he said, his voice trailing off as he turned to leave.
The door slid shut behind him, and Aliki exhaled, her mind now racing in two directions—one towards wedding planning, the other towards an investigation that was starting to feel far more dangerous.
With one eye on the wedding ezines and the other on the hidden logs, Aliki prepared for the juggling act that lay ahead.
