The television in the café was set to the 24-hour intergalactic news station. A Para woman and what appeared to be a halfsie man were delivering the latest in Kylen news. Apparently, another human woman was able to rise up the Kylen ranks and was made a soldier not too long ago. And, of course, anytime they mention anything having to do with the Kylen, they have to mention the human Kylen queen. If Sarah had a pinch for every time a newscaster said, “Well, let’s not forget about their new queen,” she’d have enough to open her own ship shop. Hearing about the Kylen was making Sarah anxious, and she asked the man behind the counter to change the channel. He switched it to spaceball game. It was the four-hundredth galactic cup, and even though Sarah didn’t much follow sports, anything was better than Kylen news.

Just as the Jupiter Jumpers, or as Sarah knew them, the red team, made a goal, Margaret and Braya walked into the shop and Sarah waved them over to her table. Sarah had called them on her way to the café and begged them to drop everything and finish the project today, that way she wouldn’t have to work while she was home with her family. The three girls cracked open their books without dilly-dallying and dove in. Sarah was having trouble concentrating, and she almost broke the silence and confessed to her day-dream, but she held back. Not only would that revelation beget endless criticism and teasing, but there was no way the three of them would be able to get back to work after that.

The afternoon went by slowly and painfully, but they eventually finished their project just before dinner.

“Who’s up for some noodles?” Sarah held up her wallet. “I’m buying.”

“Well in that case…” Margaret started putting her books into her bag.

“Sounds good to me!” Braya collected her things as well and left a few pinches on the café table as a tip.

“Six pinches?” Margaret gawked, “That’s more than our caffie-drinks cost!”

“They don’t get paid enough! Plus, the waiter kept refilling without us having to ask.” Braya looked over at the boy behind the counter and smiled.

“Aww.” Margaret winked at Sarah, “It looks like our little Braya has a not-so-little crush.” She fake sniffled. “They grow up so fast.”

Braya’s cheeks turned bright red, and Sarah pulled her into a hug. “It had to happen sooner or later.”

“Shut up! He’s going to hear you guys!”

“Oh yeah, and that would be a disaster,” Margaret raised her voice, “if THE WAITER KNEW YOU LIKED–”

Braya clasped a hand over Margaret’s mouth and pushed her out the door. Sarah ran after them, laughing so hard that, for a moment, she forgot all about the Selachi, the Kylen, and her dad. For a moment, Sarah was hopeful.

Sarah struggled to make her way through the crowds of people swarming the docks. She had her large duffle and an overflowing backpack weighing her down, and a few times, she had to use the former as a makeshift battering ram just clear a path for herself. She arrived at Bernie’s only twenty minutes before her shuttle was scheduled to take off, to find that the shop, despite the heavy street traffic, was completely empty. She found Bernie in the back room, carefully picking through the few the spare pieces of plexiglass.

“You’re supposed to wear gloves when you do that.”

“No.” Bernie groaned a bit as he lifted a large piece from the pile and above his head, “You’re supposed to wear gloves when you’re doing this. I’m an expert.”

“And what makes you the expert on not getting cut?”

“I’ve been cut so many times, I’ve learned my lesson.”

Sarah narrowed her eyes. “So why can’t I learn the same way?”

“Because that dear mother of yours would kill me if I let anything happen to you. Besides,” Bernie winked, “your hands are much too delicate.”

“Oh yeah,” Sarah made her hands into fists and put them up in front of her face, “I’ll show you delicate.” She lightly jabbed her right hand towards Bernie’s face, without getting anywhere near close enough to touch him.

Still holding the plexiglass over his head, Bernie motioned with his chin to her left hand and said, “Don’t drop the left when you jab with the right. Always keep your guard up.”

Shaking her head, Sarah grabbed part of the plexiglass and helped Bernie move it into the front room.

“So, which ship is this for?”

Bernie eyed her knowingly and muttered, “what do you think?”

“I didn’t see anything wrong with his windshield.”

“Well, I guess that’s why I’m the shop owner and you’re just the apprentice.” There was a bit of an edge in Bernie’s voice, and Sarah realized he hadn’t completely forgiven her.

“Bernie, I’m sor—”

“Come over here.”

Sarah joined Bernie at the front of the StarKisser 3000.

“You see this right here?” Bernie pointed to the offensive sticker in the bottom right hand corner of the windshield.

“I mean, yeah, it’s ugly, and downright objectifying, but I don’t think it’s enough to justify a whole new windshield.”

Bernie didn’t say anything. He pushed his thumb nail underneath the corner of the sticker and lightly pulled it back, revealing a small, but crucial crack in the windshield.

“Huh.” Sarah leaned in to get a closer look. “You think he knows it’s there?”

“Oh, he knows alright. That’s probably the only reason he put the sticker on in the first place. You see, it’s against regulations to fly with a crack like this; it’s too dangerous. And, as a certified Ship Repair man, I’m not allowed to let a ship leave my shop with one of these.”

Sarah looked down at her feet. “Oh.”

“You could have gotten me in a heap of trouble if I didn’t happen to catch this. Lucky for you, I’ve been in this business a long time, and I know all the tricks.”

“I…I’m really sorry. I just wanted to prove myself to you. It won’t happen again, I swear.”

Bernie looked at Sarah and sighed. “It’s okay; it’s an honest mistake. I’ll tell you what, when you get back, as long as you stop going behind my back, I’ll start giving you some more responsibility.”

“You mean I’ll actually get to work on a ship?”

“We’ll start with you repairing parts outside of the ship, how’s that sound?”

Sarah just smiled and threw her arms around Bernie’s neck.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Yeah, yeah.” Bernie unwrapped himself from her tight embrace and checked his watch, “You better get going. Your mom said to make sure you didn’t miss your shuttle.”

Sarah rolled her eyes. “Of course she did.”

Knowing another hug would really overwhelm her stoic and detached mentor, Sarah simply grabbed her bags and called a quick goodbye over her shoulder as she ran out the door.

Seeing as the holiday break didn’t officially start for a few days, the shuttle was almost entirely empty. Sarah was the last passenger onboard and she had her choice of over fifty different seats. She chose one in the back, right next to the small kitchenette, that way she would be the first one served when they started handing out snacks. She put her backpack on her front, and wrapped the strap of her duffle around her feet, before tucking it under her seat. She had traveled a lot, and had seen too many people lose their belongings simply because they fell asleep without a good grip on their stuff. Putting her headphones in, Sarah leaned her head back and drifted off before the pilot even began his pre-flight announcements.

The ship jerked violently, throwing Sarah out of her seat and against the wall. She hit her head and lay on the floor dazed for a few seconds. As she came to, Sarah felt a bead of blood drip down her forehead. She stood up slowly, and blinked her eyes, trying to refocus her vision. Everyone and everything was disheveled. Luggage littered the pathway between the seats, and many of the passengers were lying unconscious or badly injured. There was a scream from the front of the shuttle, the sound of a weapon being discharged, and then silence.

Sarah could hear noise coming from the emergency hatch in the ceiling, and with horror she realized someone was trying to open it. She frantically searched for the emergency oxy-helmets, all while silently berating herself for not listening to the emergency announcements. She saw a bench near the front of the shuttle with a large red exclamation point painted on the side. As she ran towards it, Sarah called for those awake to help her.

“Someone is trying to open the hatch! Quick, everyone needs to get an oxy-helmet on!”

Those who were conscious were slow to understand what she was saying, but there was no time to explain. She started removing oxy-helmets and throwing them at anyone whose eyes were open.

“Put them on yourself first, then find someone unconscious and put one on them! Hurry, they are starting to unscrew the hatch!”

Sarah recognized the sound of a drill, and she counted each stop and start, trying to keep track of how many out of the eight screws in the hatch had been removed. After getting her oxy-helmet on and secure, she collected two more and searched for anyone still without one. She spotted a man, lying unconscious, near the back and hurried over to him. Just as she kneeled to put the helmet on, the door to the pilot’s quarters burst open and a large, blue figure emerged.

“STOP!” the creature yelled in a language Sarah recognized but could not immediately place. She turned only to realize she was looking down the barrel of a massive, high caliber Gamma-Blaster. “LEAVE HIM!”

Pulling her eyes away from certain death, the young woman dared to make eye contact with the person, or rather, the thing, that was threatening her life. It was a Kylen. His skin was the shade of the Earth’s deep seas, and his white horns were decorated with some sort of ceremonial design. But Sarah was oblivious to these details. All she noticed was the soft, gray color of the Kylen’s eyes.

Her inhale stopped short of her lungs, just as the final screw of the hatch came loose, and with a near-defining whoosh, all the air in the ship escaped like fish released from a net. The helpless human looked up, engrossed by the intense beauty of the starry universe, as the man whose head she was holding in her lap, gulped for a breath that would never come.