Arlo Greaves, known to very few by his real name, Jace Langton, was elbow-deep in the undercarriage of a hovercycle when the shadow crossed his workbench.
He didn't flinch. Shadows in the Delta Wastes usually meant trouble, but today he had a hunch it would be official.
"Greaves," barked a voice, sharp as broken glass. "Get your hands out of that junk heap. We've got questions."
He looked up slowly, his hands still buried in the machine's guts. Standing before him was a tall, sharp-featured woman in a crisp white shirt and black slacks. Her brown leather coat did little to hide the police-issue sidearm holstered under her shoulder. Her posture was regulation-perfect. Her eyes? Not so much. They were already judging him.
"Sergeant Pryce," Jace said, rising with a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. "A surprise inspection? I'm flattered."
Behind her, a younger officer hovered awkwardly, a half-smile playing on her lips. Jace nodded to her politely.
"This isn't a courtesy call," Elena snapped. "And wipe that grin off your face. You're already on record."
"For what?" he asked innocently. "Being charming?"
"For pretending to be someone you're not."
Jace raised an eyebrow. "You'll have to be more specific. I'm a mechanic. A bad one, if you ask the customers."
Elena stepped closer, eyes locked on his face. "You're working above your skill level. Ship mechanics say you've been tinkering with freighter cores, and not just fixing leaks. Reactor work. Drive recalibration. Stuff that requires a license."
"And?"
"And your file says you're barely literate in reactor diagnostics. No training. No formal education. So, I'll ask again, who the hell are you?"
Jace's smile thinned. "Someone just trying to keep the lights on."
Elena snorted. "Keep this up, and we'll light up your cell instead. You've got two options, Greaves. Start talking... or keep lying and see how long it takes us to crack your story."
Jace shrugged. "I'd love to chat, Sergeant. But unless I'm under arrest... I've got a fuel converter that needs realigning."
Elena stepped back, visibly annoyed. She reached into her coat and flicked a card onto the bench.
"There's a vault in the desert. Something buried. People are whispering about it. If you hear anything, anything, report it. You might just buy yourself some goodwill."
"Sweet of you," Jace murmured, watching her turn.
As they left, he caught the younger officer slipping a small device under a shelf near the wall. A bug. Of course.
Jace looked down at the business card, then up at the cavernous workshop filled with broken tech and empty promises. He'd seen war, rebellion, and the inside of more prisons than he cared to count. But something about Elena Pryce made him uneasy.
And worse, something about that desert vault... felt familiar.