By late morning, word of the stranger at The Shop had managed to spread around town, although Mads certainly hadn't said anything. Soon after the gossip had started, Grandmere escorted Luc to the tiny attic room, and he hadn't emerged since, but that didn't stop the talk from flying.

Mads refilled three coffees and tried not to eavesdrop on the customers' conversations. Jay, a mechanic from the com tower, was debating Luc's species with Corrections Enforcer Roberts.

For some reason, Enforcer Roberts seemed to doubt Luc's humanity. "Why would he come here? To gawk at us? Maybe he's one of them shifters, they call them. They say they come from the planet Prznacnac(14) and they can shift their skin to look human. You have to poke 'em with a knife or something sharp, because they'll bleed green and prove they ain't natural."

Jay shrugged. "Maybe it's natural where they come from. Natural for aliens just isn't natural for humans."

Mads almost burned her hand as she plunked the coffee pot down in front of the men. "Shifters are bedtime tales, meant to scare children. The new guy is human, just like you two, but less well-fed and a lot dirtier."

Both men looked down at their ample middles, trying to decide if Mads had meant that as a jab, but before they could reply, she'd run off to serve the newest curious customer.

It was Alan, thankfully stranger-free now. Mads had seen enough strangers to last her until the winter tourist season. "Hey Alan," she said. "Something up?"

Alan leaned forward and dropped his voice conspiratorially. "Is it true, what I heard?"

Mads rolled her eyes. "You mean that we hired a new guy? Yeah, it's true. At least until he slips up . . . What about it?"

Alan frowned and shook his head. "Uhm. No, not that. I meant, is it true that an alien spy plane crashed in your field?"

Mads blinked twice. "How the hell would I know? I saw the ship, if that's what you mean. There was no one in it, and if there ever was, they were burnt extra crispy. It didn't look alien, and the boot prints around it were human-sized. And besides, every ET visitor we've ever known had no interest in war or causing trouble with the few humans left."

Alan dropped his voice. "But They watch us. Don't be naïve. Ever since They came in and played the savior card, everyone's been hopping to their tune."

Mads knew Alan couldn't afford this kind of talk any more than she could. And besides, she didn't agree with him. All her problems stemmed from her fellow humans. The alien investors (like most investors) were pleased as long as they got their money on time. And that little thing depended on Alan, and on her paying Alan.

Mads cleared her throat. "Why are you really here?"

Alan winced. "Do you have to be so direct?" Alan was a natural charmer, with enough ooze and polish to make his ordinary looks a non-issue. He'd had more girlfriends than all of his friends combined; a fact that he was immensely proud of.

Sometimes Mads couldn't believe they were friends. Even with the recent distance developing between them, Al still sought her out just like he used to. Maybe he knew she'd always tell him the truth, like now. People like Alan needed straight up honesty.

Mads cleared her throat. "I know you have to have the money, and I know your Dad is at your throat when you don't bring it in, but I just need one more week . . ." Mads slowed down, trying not to sound like she was begging, or worse, whining.

Alan cut her off. "I'm sorry Mads, I tried, you know. He said you'll pay up or close up this time."

Unlike his son, Leroy Dallas Paxton Dekker the Third didn't care who hated him, and he was rich enough for that (and other) luxuries. Mads knew that The Shop's part of the SVUAC dues was minimal to Leroy Dekker, but that was beside the point. Mads was not just the legal owner of the Last Coffee Shop in the World, she was also the unfortunate recipient of a second-generation grudge.

In the clichéd but often true story, Mads' mother Lisette had once been engaged to Leroy Dekker. That was before Lisette met Mads' father, the drifter Frankie Roux. Lisette broke off the engagement to Leroy at once, but the hatred remained. When her husband disappeared without a word (just as Leroy had said he would), it was Leroy who supported the grief-stricken Lisette, her mother, and her young daughter. Despite this, Lisette had never lost faith in her missing husband, and Leroy couldn't hate her for it. He directed the hatred in other directions: Mads and her grandmother (whom he held partly responsible for what had happened).

Alan was waving his hand in front of Mads' eyes. "Hey, space brain, anyone home?"

Mads grinned in spite of herself. This was the Alan she'd grown up with. "Look, could you cover for me for just one more week? With all the gawker business this new employee is giving us, I might make it up to you sooner."

Alan shifted and leaned in, so no curious customers might hear him. "Mads, Madeleine. I've told you before; you don't have to pay me back if you let me pay him for you. Besides, if you want to make it up to me, I've already told you . . ."

Mads felt her cheeks starting to heat up. "Alan, please," she cut in. She knew this was heading to the same familiar place, and she hated it.

A different voice cut in, "Uhm, excuse me?"

Saved by the interruption, Mads turned with a smile. Her smile disappeared when she saw it was Luc.

Luc's height was almost overwhelming head-on, despite his disturbing thinness. He was tall enough to make the broad shouldered, athletic Alan look a little small. Luc held his arms close, and he hunched a bit, apparently conscious of the fact that he was a head taller than half of the people in the room. However, the awkward posture made him stand out even more.

Alan glanced at Luc, and then shot Mads a questioning look. "The new hire, I take it?"

Luc didn't say anything, but his intense green eyes flicked from Mads to Alan, taking in everything, including Mads' flush and discomfort.

Mads gestured to Alan. "Luc, this is Alan. Alan, Luc is what's causing so much excitement around here."

Luc stuck out a hand, and Mads noticed that he'd put a plaster over every raw spot, speckling his hands white. 

Alan looked at the hand, then at Mads, and finally up at Luc. "Have some sort of bomb dust blister there? You'll understand if I don't touch it." Alan flashed one of his charming grins instead, though Mads could almost feel the dislike emanating from him.

Luc, on the other hand, was about as easy to read as the stainless steel coffee pot, i.e., impossible. Mads felt nothing from him but cold reserve. Alan's classy rudeness rolled right off of him. 

Maybe Luc wasn't smart after all, just truly dense? Mads found that for the first time, she had trouble deciding on which coffee drink would suit someone. Luc didn't give her anti-coffee vibes, he was just empty, a void.

"Sooo," Alan wiggled his brows at Mads and patted her arm. "I guess I'll see you around. It looks like you have some training to do."

Mads dragged her thoughts back to money. "But the loan, Alan . . ."

"I told you, I've got it. We're still on for the meeting tonight?"

Crap, crap, crap, Mads had totally forgotten about the meeting. "Sure, yeah," she said in a rush. "What time was it again?"

"Nineteen thirty five. I'll be around to pick up at say, nineteen twenty. Oh, and Dad will be there, so wear your battle face." Alan bowed low, and then tipped his head to Luc. "Nice to meet you, Luc. I'm sure I'll see you around." He held the newcomer's gaze for a moment, and then spun off to visit the rest of the people who owed his father money.

Luc cleared his throat. "Your boyfriend." It wasn't a question. "I don't think he likes me."

Mads glowered up at him, her cheeks still hot. "None of your business."

Luc spread his bandaged hands, palms up. His arms seemed freakishly long. "So what is my business? I'm here to work, not sleep."

Mads seized on the change of subject. "I have a few leaks for you. The wall is rotting away around them though, so we'll probably have to replace some of it . . ." She started for the kitchen, not waiting to see if Luc followed her.

By the time Mads had taken Luc on a walking tour of the extensive work needed around The Shop, the lunch rush was upon them. She left him with the old tool kit and a hurried directive to tell Krill if he needed anything.

By late afternoon, the Ladies' Coffee Group and various clubs took over the sixteen tables. Mads made herself busy, resisting the temptation to hang over Luc's shoulder and make sure he was working.

As soon as the newest customers were settled, Mads dug out the paperwork for the evening's meeting. There were a few proposals for the town that concerned business owners, a tourism brainstorming session, and a final vote on whether or not the new hotel should be approved. She didn't feel like her presence was necessary, but it would only be another mark against her if she didn't go.

Mads dropped the sheaf of notes and rubbed her temples. Something had to give soon, or she was going to go insane.

"Excuse me, miss . . ."

Mads looked up, her reflexive customer-service smile snapping back into place, along with the automatic, "What can I get for you?"

It was an Atelian, the first one Mads had seen in years. Though they were vaguely human in appearance, you could always tell an Atelian by their three beards and thirteen fingers. Their skin had a golden cast that changed to bronze with age. This Atelian was probably middle aged, as he was deep-bronze skinned and his face was wrinkled, but his blue eyes twinkled with life, and his frame seemed sturdy and strong. His browning middle beard was graced by the most magnificent handlebar mustache Mads had ever seen. When he spoke, his low voice resonated through the air around them. "I am looking for a young man, very tall, very dirty, and skinny as Raxian deep sea kelp. . ."

Mads nodded before he could continue. Once an Atelian started talking to you, they rarely stopped. "Luc, I guess? Is he in trouble?" The odds of two tall, skinny, dirty strangers showing up in Springs Village were basically zero, right?

The Atelian paused for a moment, watching her with a half smile. "Not yet, I presume. You could say I was his friend-or the closest thing he has. I found him at a gaming den in West Doria. We were heading in the same direction and our goals aligned, but he didn't have a Galactic to his name. Being short a few crewmen, I took him aboard. We were, well, separated by my personal business, after our arrival. Your customs office couldn't tell me where he went after we were processed. However, someone said there was a young man of that description here earlier, and I assume he would stand out . . ."

"He's in my kitchen, fixing a leak." Mads shifted, uncomfortable. "He didn't seem like he had anyone, and well, my grandmother hired him." This was the fourth stranger of the day, and she didn't like it one bit. There was definitely something going on here.

The man's bushy brows shot up. "Already? Well, that's something. But I'm sorry, I've been remiss." He bowed with a flourish of all thirteen fingers. "I am Captain Graynard Alistair: Pilot, Tradesman, and Procurer of Rare Curiosities." He winked on his way back up to perfect posture. "You wouldn't happen to be in need of any of my services, would you?"

Mads shrugged. "I don't have the money, and I'm not planning any trips. We didn't hire Luc for wages, you know. All he asked for was a place to sleep and regular meals. At least, that's what my grandmother said."

Graynard rolled his eyes. "Not a bit of sense in that boy, I think. Good with cards, bad with money and the ladies. Tends to give but never receive, if you know what I mean. Bleeding heart. Easy to take advantage of. But he's a hard worker. Since I'm the one who gave him a lift, I feel responsible. Might I talk to him?"

"Oh, yes," Mads nodded. "This way."

Krill was pulling bread out of the oven when they entered the kitchen. The air was heavy with the homey scent of actual bread. "We bake everything from scratch," Mads told Graynard as he paused at the threshold. "Real food, real ingredients."

"Fascinating. How do you obtain these 'real ingredients'?" Graynard went over to Krill so he could get a better look at the bread. "Beautiful."

Krill made happy humming noises and beamed at the newcomer. "My secret recipe."

"We grow them ourselves." Mads glanced around the kitchen. "In our greenhouses. Krill, where's Luc?"

"Greenhouses?" Graynard stroked a beard. "Ingenious. But what about the soil and water contamination?"

"It's a bio-bubble; you may recognize the tech . . ."

"Please, Mads," interrupted Krill. "Not in the kitchen." Krill lifted one of the steaming loaves onto a cutting board. She turned her attention to the newcomer. "Come back after it cools for a bit and you can have a slice. Oh, and Luc is in the basement. He said something about the furnace . . ." Krill shrugged, turning back to the oven.

Mads stooped down to look at the kitchen leak. The mildewed ring was gone, and the floor was scraped clean. The wall was already patched up. "Hmm, fast work." She poked the wall with a finger, testing for strength, and nothing gave way.

Graynard nodded. "He has quick hands." His eyes were sparkling again. They reminded Mads' of the glass gems in Grandmere's rings.

Mads rose. "I'll make sure I watch anything valuable. Let's go."

Krill gave Graynard an apologetic shrug. "Don't forget to come back for bread."

In the basement, they found Luc on his back and stuffed halfway in the crawlspace. The toolkit was open beside his long legs, which were the only part of him Mads and Graynard could see.

"What are you doing with the pipes?" asked Mads, crouching down to peer into the small space.

Luc had a light pointed at the pipes, and his face was covered in dirt and grease. "More leaks. I was tracing them to the source. Besides, the water pressure was down."

"Luc?" Graynard bent down as well. "You could have at least tried to find me at the port, you know. It wasn't that crowded. I know you don't like to wait around, but . . ."

Mads could almost hear a shrug in Luc's voice. "Anyone could survive in a quiet town like this. Glad you found me though. But I told you that I intended to split at the port. I've trespassed on your kindness long enough."

Graynard rolled his eyes. "If you say so. I'm sure I could find you a different place if you need it later. And though this damp, earthy spot is delightful, I was offered fresh bread from the charming young lady in the kitchen. So Luc, if you need anything while I'm onworld, don't hesitate to look me up. I'll see you later." 

Graynard straightened and nodded to Mads. "Miss . . . I didn't catch your last name?"

"Capot."

"Miss Capot, enchanted."

Mads watched the Atelian head back up the stairs, and then returned her attention to Luc, who had stuffed himself back in the crawlspace. "I have to leave for a meeting soon. You cause any trouble, and I'll know about it."

Luc sighed. "I don't want any trouble, believe me."

"What are you running from?" persisted Mads. She would wait until he gave a good enough answer.

He had to be running from something. Otherwise, why would he turn down an actual job from the Atelian? Why had they parted ways? Why had Mads gotten the idea that their perfectly harmless, normal conversation had layers of meaning she wasn't meant to understand?

Luc was silent for a long time. Mads supposed she had offended him. All she heard was the metal on metal of tools and pipes.

"Everyone makes mistakes," Luc finally responded. "Mine involved a crew of pirates I never want to run into again."

"Ah. Once the local buzz dies down, people will take you for granted. You'll be like the furniture: reassuring when there and only missed when you're gone."

"Is that bitterness I'm hearing?"

Mads laughed dryly. "No, just experience. So, pirates?"

"I don't want to talk about it. All you need to know is that they're cold-blooded killers, and you better pray they never end up here. I met Gray because he was chasing them down, and said they'd double crossed him or something. Nasty business."

Mads blinked, trying to imagine a lawless world of pirates and thieves, but it just sounded like something from a daytime net drama. The worst crime she'd heard of happening in Springs Village was a bar fight that ended with three people in the hospital. Honestly, if something was happening outside of Springs Village, she didn't really care.

Luc wriggled out from the crawlspace, bringing a shower of dirt and dust with him. "There, all sealed up." His face was black with grime, making his eyes look even more green. Mads wondered again if he'd had them medically enhanced, but it felt rude to ask.

Mads silently helped him pick up the tools. "Thanks, for fixing those."

Luc scowled. "Hopefully they stay fixed. Plumbing isn't my biggest strength, but I've had plenty of practice."

"I see," said Mads, though she had zero plumbing experience herself, and she wouldn't have been able to test his handiwork if she tried.

Luc went over to the furnace and flipped some switches. "Whoever designed this place must have been miniature, or a child. There's hardly any space to move."

"Economizing space," countered Mads. "They were thrifty survivors. The world was falling around their ears and they couldn't stop it."

Luc closed the switch box and looked back at Mads, his lips twisted in a smirk. "And here it all is, so well preserved. Have you ever seen the world outside your bubble?"

Something in his tone, or maybe his face, made Mads bristle, like he was insulting her, or calling her sheltered (which he probably was). She headed for the stairs. "Yes," she tossed back. "I went once. There was nothing out there worth seeing."

"There's probably more out there than you realize," said Luc, following her upstairs. Despite his size, his footsteps were nearly silent.

"And you know this how?" Mads held the door for him.

"I've traveled a lot."

Mads ignored the sudden flare of envy. "Ah. Well, you've still probably never had bread like Krill's. You might want to stop by and grab a slice, after you're cleaned up, of course. I have to leave . . . meeting." She stopped, hating herself for babbling. For someone who saw people every day, she was starting to realize how little she actually engaged with them in conversation.

"Maybe, we'll see."

Mads watched Luc disappear down the hall, thinking about what he'd said. Pirates, huh? Wonder how he got on their bad side? She couldn't shake the feeling that Luc was bad news, although he hadn't given her a logical reason to think that, yet.  Besides, she could always check with the Planetary Entries department to see if he'd really come in on Graynard's ship and been processed through customs. She would comm them at once, before the meeting, just to remove all doubt.

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