“Need any help with that, babydoll?”

I slide out from under my hover bike, wrench in hand, my face smeared with oil. I’m thousands of miles away from home, but some things never change — like men assuming they know more about fixing engines than I do.

The man is about six foot tall, tussled black hair, strong jawline. He’s rocking a leather vest and jeans, and his fire-red Solaris is parked right behind him. His piercing brown eyes scan my frame as he rests one hand on his side.

I bet he sees himself as my savior in need, my knight in leather armor. I can see it all in that cocky smirk of his. Normally I’d send him packing with a snappy comeback, but it’s nice to hear someone speak Universal for a change.

“First off; you did not just call me that,” I answer, twirling the wrench in my hand. “Secondly; if you think you can get her running again, be my guest.”

“My apologies,” he nods as he steps forwards. “Name’s Burt, by the way. Federation pilot.”

The smug smile, condescending attitude and the expensive bike all make sense now.

“I’m Aria, and honestly, I don’t give a flying fuck what you do, Burt, if you can get her to run.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fix her up in a jiffy.”

He takes off his leather jacket and goes to work. I take a step back and cross my arms as I wait for him to see it’s hopeless. A few minutes of tinkering later he looks up again, frowning.

“Not so easy as it looks, hm?” I say.

“Your engine is busted,” he answers.

Yeah, I knew that an hour ago.

Burt stands up and wipes his greasy hands on his expensive jeans. “Seems like you’ll be stuck here for a while.” He glances over his shoulder at the dark clouds in the distance. “Looks like rain. Want me to give you a ride?”

I’m not keen on leaving my bike behind, but in this condition, it’s not like anyone’s going to steal her. If I had my com with me, I could order a spare part and have a drone deliver it to me like that, but I was stubborn enough to want to do this trip the old-fashioned way. No coms, no augmented-reality helmets that tell you what road to take… just me, my bike, and the road.

That was the idea, anyway.

Now there’s Burt, the Federation pilot, who undoubtedly wants to get in my pants. I know pilots, and they’re all the same. I’m surprised that even with my face smeared with oil and my shirt sticking to my back the hotshot is interested in me, but it doesn’t matter; I’m not having it. I came here looking for a bit of peace, not to be another notch on Burt’s belt.

“That depends on where you’re headed.”

“South, down to Nagasaki. You?”

I shrug.

A flash of lightning in the distance illuminates the mountain range. The low, threatening growl of thunder soon follows. If I wait long enough, nature will make my decision for me.

“You must have some place you’re going. What are you doing out here in Japan all by yourself anyway?”

“Just trying to get away from it all. What about you?”

“Visiting the memorials; My great-great-great grandfather was a prisoner-of-war here. So you’re out here all by yourself, huh?”

I’ve gotten that question countless times already. Is it really so strange for a woman in her mid-twenties to travel solo? For once I’d like to do my own thing, travel at my own pace without having to worry if everyone is having a good time.

“Yeah, just me.”

And I had to fight like hell to keep it that way. I’d been planning this trip for months, working extra shifts at my dad’s shop to save up money, and a week before my flight he drops a bombshell on me: Grace is going with you. I don’t want you to travel all alone, you’re so young. Take your sister!

Hell no. I did all the work, I planned the trip, I saved the money… why should I? I don’t owe her a vacation.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my sister with all my heart. But sometimes, you need some time away from family. This is one of those times.

Grace didn’t take the news very well. Told me she hated me, that I was being selfish. I don’t blame her. She’ll get over it.

Can’t say I’m happy about how it all played out, though.

“Come on, hop on,” Burt says as he pats the back of his Solaris. “Rain’s coming.”

I take one last look at my trusty bike and sigh. I’ll be back for you girl, I promise.

I slide onto Burt’s bike and he kicks off. Seconds later we’re whizzing through the air at high speed, and none too soon, for the rain starts a moment later.

The sky grows darker by the second, until it is pitch black. Burt slows his bike down and we come to a halt on the side of the road, thick droplets of rain pouring down on us.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, having to yell over the storm. “Don’t tell me your engine is busted too!”

“Look,” he says, pointing up. His voice is shaking. “They’re here.”

My eyes travel up — and my breath falters.

The sky hasn’t been darkened by the storm, but by countless alien ships flying overhead. They’re all headed east.

Towards the US.

Towards home.