Aliki walked out of the storage room clutching the intact box of chocolate bars she’d grabbed from the table, leaving the crushed, sodden box on the floor next to Emmett. He could deal with that sticky disaster. After all, it wasn’t her fault the cooling system had failed—or that Emmett had been so maddeningly cheeky about the whole thing. The thought felt like a small, slightly petty victory, though the chocolate smudged across her sleeves and blouse reminded her there were no real winners in this situation.

Her mind churned as she retraced her steps through the utility room. She needed to get this to Zoron quickly, but what kind of manager walks up to her boss looking like she’d just been wrestled to the ground by a leaking barrel of lubricating oil—and lost spectacularly? She grimaced.

The hum of the control room greeted her as she entered, its quiet rhythm almost soothing against the chaos in her head. She adjusted her grip on the box, trying to hold it further away from her body. It wasn’t helping; the chocolate stains seemed to be multiplying on her blouse and had spread to the top of her pants. Her one hope was to reach the apartment bathroom, wash up, and change into the only other clean outfit she had left.

Lost in thought, she didn’t hear the faint click of a door opening. She barely noticed the muted footfalls ahead.

And then, disaster.

Turning the corner out of the control room, she slammed straight into something solid. Her grip on the box faltered as she staggered back. A low grunt came from the obstruction.

Zoron.

He loomed in front of her, filling the hallway with his broad frame and unyielding presence. Aliki froze, her eyes darting from his dark, imposing figure to the chocolate-streaked box in her hands, now held at an awkward angle, its freshly dented corner serving as yet another glaring endorsement of her incompetence. Her brain scrambled to process the situation while her body remained glued in place, chocolate smears and all.

If Zoron noticed—or cared about–her messy appearance, he gave no sign. His attention locked on the box with a sharpness that made Aliki’s pulse quicken. She barely had time to register the tension in the air before he lunged. His large, clawed hands wrapped around his prize and, with incredible speed, he lifted it effortlessly from her grasp.

Aliki blinked, her hands now empty but still held in front of her as if she hadn’t quite realized the box was gone. Zoron cradled it close, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he opened it.

For a moment, Aliki swore the hallway cooled, like it was holding its breath. The way Zoron held the box—his broad shoulders hunching ever so slightly, shielding it as though it were prey he’d just claimed—sent a prickle of unease down her spine. A faint sniff, almost imperceptible, and then he straightened, his usual composed demeanor snapping back into place with the precision of a steel trap.
Aliki took a step back, her sticky hands trembling slightly. She suddenly felt like a mouse standing before a wolf—not one in a fairy tale, but a real, dangerous wolf that didn’t bother with pleasantries.

“I, uh…” She wiped her hands awkwardly on her ruined blouse, her mind racing to form a coherent explanation. “I know how this looks, but it’s not what it seems. The chocolate… I mean, I wasn’t—I didn’t…” She stopped herself, realizing she was making it worse.

Zoron tilted his head, the faintest quirk of his brow betraying his curiosity.

“The cooling system failed,” she blurted out, her words tumbling over each other. “In the storeroom. Emmett’s working on it, but he told me to come to you because he says it’s too much for him to handle on his own. It’s… it’s starting to melt in there, but not all of it! Just some. I mean, it’s not as bad as it sounds, but if it doesn’t get fixed soon…”

She winced at her own rambling, the words echoing in her head like a badly rehearsed script. Way to sound like you know what you’re doing, she thought bitterly.

Zoron’s gaze flicked back to the box, his grip tightening slightly. For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice as calm as it was sharp, he asked, “Emmett can’t fix it?”

Aliki shook her head. “He thinks it needs a specialist. Said it would go faster with help.”
Zoron gave a low, thoughtful hum. “I’ll call a repair tech,” he said simply, his tone so steady it might have been reassuring if not for the undercurrent of tension she couldn’t quite place. “We’ll handle it. Don’t let any more melt.”

The words landed like an order, final and unquestionable. Aliki nodded, her stomach knotting with a mixture of relief and unease. Zoron turned, carrying the box toward the apartment with an almost casual grace, though his grip remained firm.

As he disappeared through the door, Aliki released a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her hands, still sticky with chocolate, hung awkwardly at her sides. She glanced toward the control room, where the hum of machinery continued like nothing had happened. “Right,” she muttered to herself. “No pressure.”

An hour later, Aliki sat at her desk in the office, her eyes half-focused on the tablet in front of her. An advertisement for Galactic Glitterbees flashed across the screen: “Make your wedding unforgettable with bees that spell your vows in glittering light trails!” The tiny, glowing insects darted in swirling patterns, promising eternal love with an extra dash of sparkle. She dismissed it with a swipe, leaning back in her chair as her damp hair cooled her neck.

The shower had calmed her nerves but hadn’t erased the echo of Zoron’s words: Don’t let any more melt. It wasn’t a threat, she told herself. It’s a test. A test of her ability to deal with problems without help, especially without Emmett swooping in to fix everything.

The logical thing to do was obvious—move the chocolate to another cool place. She’d thought through the options already, and the only places that made sense were the coolers and refrigerators scattered around the dealership. The big refrigerator in her apartment could hold several boxes, and there were smaller units in the office and snack room. It wasn’t ideal, but it would buy them time. It might be possible to wrangle a cooler or two from the spaceport next door as well.

Would Zoron mind? Probably not. He might even approve of her quick thinking, though he hadn’t exactly struck her as the sort to heap praise on anyone. In fact, he seemed just the type who could look the other way as long as the operation kept running smoothly.

The truth was, Aliki knew exactly what she’d gotten herself into—well, mostly. The crash had prompted her to reread her contract late the night before, and the fine print was clear: she was contracted to Sufsa’s business, not Sufsa himself. That meant unless the investigation somehow pinned the crash on her, which seemed impossible, she had an obligation to keep the operation running.

The realization that she was now part of a galactic smuggling ring weighed heavily on her, not because of the harm chocolate could cause unsuspecting aliens, but because of what it meant for her future. If the authorities discovered the operation, she’d likely be deported, and the odds of getting another contract on Earth—especially once it became clear she’d accepted a deal with what was almost certainly a Tyrok drug cartel—were slim.

Turning the operation in to the authorities wasn’t an option either; it wouldn’t help her situation and would only end with her marooned somewhere far worse. No, her only chance was to keep quiet and hope the operation stayed hidden long enough for her to finish her contract. After all, Emmett seemed completely unfazed by it all, like he’d been managing this kind of thing for years. If he could do it, surely she could, too.

The real issue wasn’t him or Zoron—it was everyone else. Everyone who might suspect what was really going on.

She frowned, her gaze drifting toward the office door. Mitch. He hadn’t checked in yet, but he was bound to turn up soon, and the thought of him walking in on her rearranging boxes of chocolate into random coolers made her stomach twist. She could imagine the questions, the raised eyebrow, the inevitable suspicion. She didn’t want to explain, and she wasn’t even sure she could.

She rubbed her temples. Zoron was trusting her to do her job, and her job was to ensure the chocolate stayed intact until the delivery team arrived, even if it wasn’t what she signed up for.

Aliki straightened in her chair and turned off the tablet. The plan was simple: move the boxes quickly, quietly, and without anyone noticing. And definitely without Mitch noticing.

She left the office, her mind circling the logistics of moving the chocolate. The apartment refrigerator would hold the most, but she’d need to make room for at least a couple of boxes in the snack room. And she’d probably have to take the bars out of the shipping boxes—she could cram more in that way.

Crossing the deserted showroom, her eyes fell on the empty holo displays and outdated advertisements. The worn projectors sat silent as if even they were unnecessary. The advertisements on the walls—ancient slogans promising “Galactic Class Luxury at Planetary Prices!”—seemed to belong to another place, one where selling spaceships might have actually been the goal. Outside, the barren lot stretched on, a stark reminder that no one had bought or sold anything here in a long time.

It wasn’t there to sell spaceships.

The thought struck with an unsettling clarity. Everything about the place—the hollow grandeur of the showroom, the pristine but useless advertisements, even the location near the spaceport—was designed to make it look like a legitimate business while hiding the real operation. The dealership wasn’t a business; it was a pipeline.

Her stomach twisted as she reached the snack room. The cooler hummed softly at the end of the counter. She knew from previous inspection that it didn’t contain anything she could eat. But it wasn’t empty, either. She pulled open the insulated door and frowned.

Inside, a single jar sat on the top shelf, its contents an unappealing mass of pale green goo dotted with what looked like lumpy spheres. Beside it was another jar, this one filled with tiny, dark orbs suspended in a thick, golden liquid that seemed to glisten unnaturally under the cooler’s light.

Aliki pulled them out and read the labels: Fermented Slime Pods and Amber Eggs. She wasn’t sure if they were alien delicacies or bait for some cosmic fishing trip, but one thing was certain—they were about as useful to her as a toothbrush would be to Emmett.

The shelf below held two clearly marked containers: squat metal canisters with labels stamped in both Tyrok script and an English translation underneath. Cryo-Conductive Lubricant, the label read, followed by a warning in bold red: Keep Below 10°C.
Aliki hesitated for a moment, then placed the canisters carefully on the counter. Hopefully, the lubricant isn’t more valuable than the melting chocolate.

Reaching back inside, she extracted the jars and put them next to the canisters, arranging them in a neat little lineup that made the counter look more like a science experiment than a snack room.

She bent down to check if anything had escaped her notice. Sure enough, in the back corner of the cooler, wedged awkwardly against the wall, was a squat bottle that looked like it had taken a tumble from a higher shelf. Stretching inside, she retrieved it, holding it up to the light.

The label gleamed boldly in metallic script: “Arctic Breeze: Cool Confidence for the Modern Man.” Beneath it, in letters so small they were almost apologetic, were the words “Aftershave Lotion.”

Aliki tilted the bottle gently, watching the liquid inside swirl in a pale turquoise shimmer. It looked expensive—or at least, like the sort of thing someone thought should look expensive.

Why is this in here? she wondered, flipping it over to look for instructions. Nothing on the label suggested it needed to be refrigerated. Then her lips twitched upward as the answer hit her. Of course. “Arctic”, “Breeze”, and “Cool”—to Emmett, the label probably read like a direct order.

She twisted the cap open cautiously, releasing a faintly spicy scent. So this is aftershave, she thought, wrinkling her nose slightly. She remembered reading about it as part of the male hygiene process, something they used to protect their skin after shaving or as a way to “freshen up”.

“Smells more like a fight between a spice rack and a pine tree,” she muttered, and leaned back into the cooler.

“Aliki.”

The voice startled her, and she jerked upright. The tube slipped from her fingers, hitting the floor with a hollow thunk. The cap popped off, sending turquoise liquid spilling out onto the floor.

“Oh, great,” Aliki muttered, staring at the spreading turquoise puddle. She glanced up at the source of the voice, trying to mask her irritation. “You scared me.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Mitch said, his tone cautious. His eyes flicked to the floor. “Is that… aftershave?” he added, his brow furrowing.

Aliki let out a sharp sigh. “Can you hand me a towel or something?”

He grabbed a handful of napkins from a stack on the counter and crouched beside her. As they worked to blot up the puddle, the scent of the aftershave hung thick in the air, and for a moment, the silence between them felt louder than it should have.

“Why are you putting aftershave in the cooler?” Mitch finally asked, breaking the silence.

Aliki froze for half a second, her mind scrambling. “I wasn’t putting it in,” she said quickly. She focused on the mess in front of her, not meeting his eyes. “I was taking it out.”

He chuckled softly, tossing a soaked napkin into the trash. “You do know that aftershave belongs in a bathroom cabinet, not in a refrigerator, right?”

Aliki stiffened. “Obviously.” She threw her own soggy napkin into the trash and stood up, pushing the door of the cooler closed as if she cleaned out appliances on a regular basis. She leaned back against the counter, folding her arms in what she hoped was a casual posture.

Mitch straightened, brushing his hands on his pants. His gaze lingered on her for a moment before he spoke. “Got the initial report back from the investigation into the crash.”

Aliki’s stomach tightened, but she kept her face neutral, nodding slightly. “Oh?”

He glanced around the room, his eyes darting briefly to the hallway leading to the manager’s apartment, then back to her. Satisfied no one else was around, he lowered his voice. “You mind if we go somewhere else to talk?”

Aliki led Mitch to her office and slid into the chair at her desk. Mitch, however, stayed standing near the door, positioning himself where he could see both her and the hallway. For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze briefly sweeping the room before settling back on her. Then, in a measured tone, he said, “The coroner’s preliminary report is in.”

Aliki’s stomach tightened. “And?”

“Sufsa had a lethal amount of a chocolate-based toxin in his system,” Mitch said, watching her closely.

Her brow furrowed. “Chocolate?” she repeated.

“Yeah, chocolate,” Mitch said, his tone softening. “It’s popular on Earth—humans eat it like a treat. Harmless to most of the species here. But to the rest of the galaxy, it’s another story. Some of the chemicals in it, the ones that occur naturally, aren’t tolerated well by alien bodies. To them, it’s a drug. Tyroks especially—they love the stuff. Really get off on it. It’s in such high demand that it’s sold on the black market.”

Mitch noticed her blank look and pressed on. “Did you notice Sufsa acting…odd when he arrived? Was he doing anything strange?”

“No,” she said cautiously. “I don’t think so, but then, it was the first time we met. I just assumed that was his normal behavior.”

“Agitated? Fidgety? Did you notice if his pupils were dilated?”

Aliki chewed her lower lip. “I…No, I didn’t notice.”

Mitch studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable, then blew out a long sigh. “I didn’t think you had anything to do with it.”

Before Aliki could respond, both of them turned at the sound of Emmett stepping into the room. “Oh, don’t mind me,” he said, his brogue thick with mock humility. “I just work here, y’know, carryin’ on like the invisible help.” He glanced at Aliki. “Did you—?”

“I talked to Zoron, as you asked,” she cut in, rolling her eyes at Mitch and hoping Emmett would catch the hint.

“Actually, Emmett, I’m glad you’re here,” Mitch said, turning toward the droid.

“At least someone is,” Emmett replied, his tone flat but with just enough edge to make Aliki wonder if he was joking—or actually annoyed.

Mitch appeared not to hear him. “Did you notice Sufsa acting strangely when he arrived yesterday morning? Out of sorts? Maybe unusually aggressive?”

Emmett tilted his head, the faint whir of servos punctuating the pause. “He acted in the usual manner for a Tyrok businessman inspectin’ his businesses—y’know, assessin’ things, calculatin’ profits, and silently debatin’ whether it was time to trade up for better stock options.”

Mitch scratched his forehead, his mouth twitching, trying to keep his composure. “Let me ask you this: are you familiar with Tyrokian physiology? Could you predict the reaction a male Tyrok would have when under the influence of a cocktail comprised of theobromine, PEA, anandamide, and cocoa flavonoids?”

Emmett’s head tilted slightly, his glowing eyes narrowing as though offended by the question. “Slightly, and yes. A Tyrok who imbibed such a cocktail might exhibit symptoms of vasodilation, increased heart rate, and body tremors. They’d likely act like a dodgy airlock about to blow.”

Mitch smothered a grin and pressed on. “And did you notice Sufsa exhibiting any of these signs when he arrived yesterday?”

“Not in the slightest,” Emmett said smoothly. “Nor did he appear overconfident, hyperactive, or disinhibited. At least, no more than usual for a Tyrok tryin’ to look impressive while assessin’ his empire.”

“Thank you, Emmett. That’s all I needed to know,” Mitch said with a curt nod.
“I’m always happy to help,” Emmett replied, his tone dripping with sarcastic cheer. “It is, after all, what I’m programmed for.” He spun neatly on his heel and strode out of the office, leaving the faint hum of his servos in his wake.

Aliki turned back to Mitch, her eyebrows raised in silent question.

“Did Sufsa go anywhere between the time he landed and the time he boarded the Metsu?” Mitch asked. “Did he go into the showroom for anything?”

“No,” Aliki said slowly, then tilted her head. “But couldn’t he have brought the chocolate with him?”

“It’s possible,” Mitch admitted, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. “But it would be hard to prove. I have to rule out the possibility that he picked it up from you—or someone else on the lot.” His tone was careful, but his words hung in the air like a challenge. “Where exactly were Zoron and Tira during all this?”

Aliki hesitated, glancing down as she tried to recall. “They’d walked off while Sufsa and I were talking. I didn’t see exactly where they went. The one time I glanced at them, they were, uh… kissing.”

Mitch raised an eyebrow. “Kissing?”

Aliki shrugged awkwardly. “It wasn’t my business, so I didn’t pay attention.”

Mitch nodded slowly. “Could the chocolate have been inside the ship? Hidden somewhere you didn’t notice?”

“No,” Aliki said firmly. “Emmett and I cleaned it when it arrived the day before to get it ready for sale. If there’d been chocolate on board—or anywhere in the dealership—I would’ve noticed. Believe me, I’m hungry enough to have found it.”

Mitch’s gaze didn’t waver. “But there was somebody else—a test drive—before Sufsa arrived. Who was that again?”

Aliki narrowed her eyes. He wasn’t asking because he didn’t know. He was testing her.
“Keefe Casey,” she said, her tone sharp with impatience. “You know, the famous billionaire?”

Mitch leaned against the edge of her desk. “KC flew the ship before Sufsa, right? Is there any chance he could’ve left something on board?”

Her mind raced through possibilities. “Maybe, but there’s no reason KC would think Sufsa would fly it. He didn’t even know Sufsa was coming until I told him.”

“You told him? Why?”

Aliki shrugged and explained about Sufsa’s early arrival. “KC probably picked up my concern about meeting my boss for the first time. He was being considerate of my feelings,” she added, brushing an imaginary piece of dirt from the desk top. “Does that mean he’s done something wrong?”

Mitch’s eyes narrowed slightly, his expression sharpening. “Being considerate doesn’t mean he’s trustworthy. People like KC usually have an angle.”

Aliki stiffened. “He didn’t seem like he had an angle. He was… kind. Friendly, even. Honestly, I was glad he was there.”

Mitch studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering. His tone softened, but there was still an edge to it. “Just be careful, Aliki. You don’t really know him.”

The words landed heavier than she expected, and she realized Mitch wasn’t just talking about KC. His concern felt strangely personal, like he wasn’t sure she could handle the situation—or was worried she might get hurt trying.

Before she could say anything, Mitch straightened and adjusted his tone back to something more formal. “I’ll need to have another word with KC. Something about his story doesn’t sit right.”

Aliki opened her mouth to respond but froze as a shadow fell across the doorway. Zoron stood there, his broad frame blocking the light. His expression was stern, but the faint edge of irritation in his eyes suggested he was more than just passing through.

“There you are,” he said, directing his attention to Aliki. “Do we have anything to eat? Tira is…” He paused. “…indisposed, and I’d rather not deal with her while she’s like this.”

Aliki blinked. “Uh… there might be something in the break room,” she said hesitantly, recalling the slime pods and amber eggs. “Not exactly Earth food, though.”

“Zoron,” Mitch interrupted. He stepped forward with crossed arms. “Did you know about Sufsa’s chocolate habit?”

Zoron didn’t flinch. “Sufsa’s habits were his business, not mine.”

“That’s convenient,” Mitch replied, his tone sarcastic. “Given that that particular habit might’ve gotten him killed.”

Zoron’s nostrils flared slightly, but his voice remained steady. “You’re dancing around something. Perhaps you should get to the point.”

“I’ve got a coroner’s report that says your boss had unusually high levels of chocolate-based toxins in his system when he crashed. But no one here seems to recall Sufsa showing any signs of drugs before he boarded that ship yesterday. Not an OD.” He pointed a finger at Zoron. “This is a murder investigation now, something I imagine someone in your position has dealt with before.”

Zoron’s lip curled into the faintest hint of a smirk. “You have no idea what I’ve dealt with, Security Chief,” His smirk deepened into something colder. “But I suggest you be very careful about making assumptions.”

The room seemed to grow smaller as the tension between the two thickened. Aliki shifted uncomfortably, glancing between them, but neither man seemed willing to back down.

Without waiting for a reply, Zoron turned and strode down the hall, his footsteps echoing softly until they faded into the distance.

Mitch exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. His jaw tightened, then loosened, as though he were replaying the confrontation in his mind.

“You okay?” Aliki asked cautiously, breaking the silence.

Mitch didn’t answer right away. He leaned against the wall, head back. “I shouldn’t have let him get under my skin,” he muttered.

Aliki paused, then offered, “He’s good at it. Probably gets a lot of practice.”

Mitch huffed a humorless laugh and glanced at her, his expression softening. “Yeah. Well, I’ll need to dig into Sufsa’s movements before he arrived yesterday. If Zoron’s involved, we’ll figure it out.”

She bit her lip, then reached for her tablet. “There’s something I want to show you,” she said quietly, powering it on.

Mitch leaned in as the screen lit up, his brows furrowing at the sight of a brightly colored advertisement. “Galactic Glitterbees? What in the world—wait, are those… glowing bugs in bow ties?”

“It’s nothing,” Aliki said quickly, swiping the ad away. She tapped a few icons, bringing up a list of data logs. “Here.”

Mitch’s expression shifted to one of concentration as he scanned the screen. “System access logs,” he murmured, half to himself. “What am I looking at?”

“PCS is for ‘power control system,’” Aliki explained. “That number is Emmett’s access key.”

Mitch whistled softly. “Are those timestamps correct?”

Aliki nodded. “Right before the crash. But Emmett and I were standing together during Sufsa’s test ride. I didn’t see him do anything unusual. I suppose it could be some quirk in the program.”

“Did you ask him about it?”

She shook her head. “No. I found them buried deep in the technical directories—not in the usual diagnostic folders. I…I wasn’t sure if it meant anything and thought I should show you first.”

Mitch frowned, scrolling through the data again. His voice was quieter when he spoke. “This doesn’t look like routine maintenance checks. I’m no technical geek, but it looks too specific.”

“Do you think it’s connected to the crash?” Aliki asked, her voice a little quieter now.

Mitch handed the tablet back to her. His eyes held hers for a moment, his expression serious. “It could be. But I’ll need to dig deeper to know for sure.” His tone softened as he added, “You did well finding this.”

Aliki looked down at the tablet, her stomach tightening slightly at his praise. “I want to help.”

Mitch’s gaze flicked toward the hallway, but his words were directed at her. “Just be careful,” he said evenly. “You’re sharp, Aliki, but not everyone plays fair. Sometimes trouble has a way of creeping up on you when you least expect it.”

As she watched Mitch walk out, his warning echoed in her mind. But she knew it was too late—she was already tangled in something she hadn’t seen coming. Chocolate smuggling wasn’t exactly in the job description.

Her gaze drifted to the tablet still in her hands, her fingers tightening slightly around it. When Mitch had handed it back to her, there’d been a look in his eyes she couldn’t quite read—just like the one KC had given her before he left yesterday.

Mitch had brought up KC’s name with a tone she didn’t like—too suspicious, too pointed. KC didn’t seem like the kind of person to get tangled up in something dangerous. Did he?
She sighed, shaking off the thought.

Whatever KC was involved in, it wasn’t her business. Not yet, anyway.