I wasn’t sure what was worse—being abducted, crashing a spaceship, or getting hit with a cosmic bill I never agreed to. But I was starting to think forced labor was about to take the lead.

  Jitters—whose real name was apparently Twixt—led me through the ship’s winding corridors, rattling off instructions a mile a minute. I caught maybe half of what he said, which wasn’t ideal considering I was supposed to be “working off my debt.”

  “—and if the panel starts sparking, you’ll want to step back at least three units. Last time we had an incident, poor Xevlik lost an arm. But don’t worry, it grew back! Mostly.”

  I really didn’t like the sound of that. “Can I get that last part again?”

  Twixt waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry! Human resilience is legendary! I’m sure you’ll be fine!”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Uh-huh. That’s what they always say before someone dies horribly.”

  We reached a large maintenance bay, filled with humming machinery and the distinct scent of hot metal. A few other aliens milled around, most of them busy prying open panels, fixing exposed wiring, or arguing in languages I didn’t understand.

  At the center of the chaos stood a no-nonsense-looking alien covered in dark blue scales. He had four arms, two of which were crossed in a way that screamed I have no patience for you.

  Twixt bounced forward. “Foreman J’Rax! I found you a new worker!”

  J’Rax turned, giving me a slow, unimpressed look. “This is a human.”

  Twixt nodded excitedly. “Yes! Remarkably durable! And surprisingly adaptive! The captain wants to see if he’s useful!”

  J’Rax let out a very skeptical huff and grabbed a tool from the nearby workbench. He shoved it into my hands. It was heavy, shaped like a cross between a wrench and a taser.

  “You break it, you fix it. You die, we space your body. Got it?”

  I stared at him. “Wow. Love the enthusiasm. Really makes a guy feel welcome.”

  J’Rax rolled his eyes and gestured toward a busted panel. “Start there. If you fry yourself, try not to scream too much. It’s distracting.”

  I was half-convinced this was some elaborate prank, but judging by the sparks coming from the exposed wiring, I wasn’t feeling lucky.

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  Twixt patted my arm. “You’ll do great! Probably!” Then he scurried off, leaving me alone with the terrifying lizard foreman and a piece of alien machinery I had zero clue how to fix.

  I turned to J’Rax. “So, just to be clear, I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  J’Rax grunted. “Figured. That’s why you get the easy jobs. Just reseal the panel and don’t touch the red wires.”

  I glanced at the mass of tangled cables. “What happens if I touch the red wires?”

  J’Rax smirked. “You find out what we do with corpses.”

  Lovely.

  Taking a deep breath, I crouched down and got to work. The tool felt awkward in my hands, but once I got the hang of it, it wasn’t that different from fixing things back home. Except, you know… with a much higher risk of horrific electrocution.

  Things were going okay—until the scientist showed up.

  Vrixibalt appeared like a needy ghost, looming over my shoulder with that same unsettling enthusiasm.

  “Incredible! You are applying problem-solving skills with minimal instruction! Does this come naturally, or do humans rely on subconscious reasoning to bridge gaps in understanding?”

  I sighed. “I literally just followed basic logic.”

  Vrixibalt gasped. “Fascinating! Logic! I must record this!”

  J’Rax groaned. “Do you need to hover? He’s actually working.”

  Vrixibalt ignored him, whipping out a strange-looking device and waving it at me. “Your stress levels remain remarkably stable despite the unfamiliar environment. Tell me, do humans produce additional neural pathways under duress?”

  I scowled. “I dunno, man. Maybe. Are you done?”

  Vrixibalt looked genuinely hurt. “But there is still so much I must learn! Your remarkable cognitive adaptability! Your anomalous survival rate! Your uncanny ability to cause widespread collateral damage—”

  I held up a hand. “Whoa. That last one was not my fault.”

  J’Rax coughed. “You did crash a ship.”

  I glared at him. “Listen. In my defense, I was kidnapped and put in a containment cell that I didn’t agree to. And somehow, that resulted in me escaping and causing a bit of—” I waved a hand “—incidental damage. Not my problem.”

  Vrixibalt beamed. “Exactly! Your luck is statistically improbable! I must analyze it!”

  I groaned and turned back to my work, tuning him out.

  This was my life now, wasn’t it? Stuck in space, working off a debt I never agreed to, all while being stalked by a nerdy alien scientist obsessed with studying me like some kind of lab rat.

  Just fantastic.