 
VICKY OF VENUS

By Wyatt Davenport
Copyright © 2016 Wyatt Davenport

Smashwords Edition.
Vicky's Books:

Vicky's Venusville Vacationland

Vicky's Vile Victory
VICKY'S VENUSVILLE VACATIONLAND

by Wyatt Davenport
Chapter 1

The Planet of Love and Ugliness

Personal log . . . No wait, this is my head . . . I'm on my way to the planet of Venus, and I'm going bonkers with excitement! I'd cue the musical act and dancing boys, but Molly would go red with embarrassment if I did.

Oh yeah, sorry, this isn't Molly of Mars. I am Vicky of Ven . . . No, I can't say that.

Let's start here. I'm Vicky Valentine. My best friends are hero-of-everything Molly of Mars and Pirra Lennox, an alien who just so happens to be a planetary legend, too. I'm not sure what a teenage girl can do when she lives in the shadow of that, but I'm accepting an assignment to run the largest amusement park floating in the clouds of the planet Venus. My dream of taking over my family's entertainment corporation, Valentine Entertainment, starts there.

"Vicky, look. Venus." Roxanne Larson crawled over my lap to catch a view of the clouded, yellowy, tan-colored planet.

The shuttle, Vixen I, rattled with some space turbulence. We were taking an express flight to Venus from my home on Mars.

"Roxy, how can I see with your big head in the way?" I pushed her brown hair down.

"Big head?" Roxanne laughed. She'd been a close friend of mine for the past year or so. When I heard I could bring an assistant, she was the first person I asked. I thought she'd say no because she was a bit of a tech head. Surprisingly, she was bored with it, and I was grateful.

I'm so nervous about running Vacationland, I thought. It involved everything: making sure the rides ran, managing the food service, handling complaints, taking care of maintenance—everything . . . the whole burrito. Or was it enchilada? Maybe fajita. No, enchilada. Whatever. I needed Roxy more than she knew.

As the planet came into view, my excitement grew. Venus, the goddess of love, looked beautiful from orbit. I touched my blond hair, almost jealous. The sparkling clouds swirled across the planet's face, and the sun behind the ship displayed a full view.

"You know, you can get a better view from back here," someone said from behind us.

"What?" I thought we were the only ones on the shuttle.

"Back here." The girl appeared to be my age, fourteen, and she had on a pair of tight jeans and a bluish-gray sweater.

"I didn't see you back there," I said as I came up to her. I straightened my polo top and rubbed my khaki pants flat. "Where were you? And who are you?"

"Whitney Phavors. I was stretched out on the back row. I'm an expert sleeper on these express runs between the planets. I've done them dozens of times." She activated a button against the side of the hull, and a giant window appeared.

"Oh wow!" I exclaimed. Roxanne and I pressed our faces against it. "You weren't kidding. The view's spectacular."

"I thought Mars was big from orbit," Roxanne said. "Venus is huge."

"It's almost the same size as Earth," Whitney said. She had dark reddish-brown hair and thoughtful brown eyes. I could tell just from the way she observed us that she had some brains. "Venus's beauty is only skin-deep. Those clouds aren't water. They're sulfuric acid."

"Like burn-your-skin-off acid?" Roxanne said. "No way."

"Like way," Whitney said, laughing.

I put my hand to the window, awed by Venus's beauty. It dominated the view now. It stood alone without any moons, and its clouds painted it with a soft and clean complexion. Slight swirls smiled at everyone who gazed upon it. It would make any man blush. "Isn't Venus beautiful, Roxy? And we're going into it."

She gulped. "I guess so."

"I didn't think Martians were so skittish," the ship's pilot, an older man, said from the front of the shuttle. He'd been nice to us when we had boarded on Mars, even joking about our Martian jeans being a red color.

"Skittish? Hardly," I said with a bit of annoyance, though I could tell he was just being funny. "Mars has been so nice lately. I hardly remember the bad weather."

"I was there three weeks ago near Lake Miranda," Whitney said. "It's a fun place. Loved the lake. No bugs."

I took my eyes off Venus for a moment to look at the girl. "Really, what brings you to Venus?"

"I travel a lot for work. I had a job at the Lake Miranda Boat Company, but now I've moved on to Vacationland. I'll be working for some spoiled rich girl. She'll be running the place for the season. Just my luck, too, to have a brat. I couldn't get out of it, either. The school assigned me without any options."

I tapped my face with my finger. "I heard that spoiled rich girl helped save Mars recently."

"No, no. I'm not talking about Molly of Mars or Pirra the alien. I'm talking about the other one. The blond-haired, blue-eyed . . . .uh-oh . . . awkward moment."

I smiled at her, primping my hair. "I'm Vicky Valentine, spoiled rich girl. And this is a friend of the spoiled rich girl, Roxanne Larson."

Whitney's face went red. "I'm so sorry. It's just that . . . you're on an express shuttle, not some fancy yacht . . . and you carried your bags onto the shuttle, so I didn't think you were her."

"Some of us spoiled girls still like to pull our own weight. And I make my own money doing my own jobs. I plan on taking over Valentine Entertainment one day, so don't think I'm here for fun or pampering."

"But it's an amusement park," Whitney said. "Gotta have some fun."

"Point taken." I won't lie. Her judgment of me did sting, but it warned me of what might be ahead. Maybe the rest of the employees would think I was spoiled and I wasn't ready for the job. I'd have to prove them wrong and fast.

"Girls," the pilot said, "get to your seats. We're going to hit the atmosphere in thirty seconds."

I looked out the window again. We were fast approaching the yellow atmosphere of the poisonous planet. Roxanne and I sat down quickly. Whitney moved to the back of the shuttle without another word. She probably still had her foot in her mouth.

The shuttle shook as we broke into the clouds of Venus. They looked spectacular, but the idea of sulfuric acid hitting the ship's windows and hull made my skin contract. Just a drop and the acid would eat through it in no time. Venusville surviving for almost twenty years in the cloud city was amazing, and I couldn't wait to see it. "I'm a little nervous," I whispered to Roxanne.

"Don't worry, the hull is reinforced."

"Not about that," I said, though I was lying. "I mean about taking over Vacationland. Whitney thinks I'm some spoiled kid. Everyone will be against me."

"No, they won't. Five minutes with you, and they'll see how smart you are, how selfless you are."

"And if they don't? I have some ideas on how I want the park run, but I need them to believe in me."

Roxanne put her hand on my shoulder. "You're already making up challenges, and we haven't even arrived yet. Maybe the Lake Miranda rich kids jaded Whitney, and she's angry. Don't assume she speaks for everyone."

"I guess," I said as the ship shook back and forth, driven by the unfriendly winds of Venus. The swaying of the shuttle caused my stomach to drop like a roller coaster. "Yikes."

"The shuttle will compensate," Roxanne reassured me. "Whitney simply put her foot in her mouth. You don't have to worry about the others."

The comment still hurt, but I tried to play it off. "You know that awkward moment when you criticize your future boss to their face . . . it isn't only embarrassing to the person who says it."

"I gotcha, but look at it like this. Whitney might help you spread the word about not flying in on a yacht with baggage handlers in tow."

"I hate being the other girl, too. Not Molly of Mars or Pirra the alien sister but the other one. Maybe I do need them to be successful."

"They're heroes," Roxanne stated.

"Thanks."

"And Vicky Valentine is also a hero. The best kind of hero. You're humble, and you let Martians celebrate Molly and Pirra. Grabbing the attention would've only made you miserable."

I nudged her. "Maybe I'd like a little face time. I've got a pretty face."

"Too pretty," Roxanne said. "The media needs a few chipped teeth and black eyes."

I laughed. "Molly looked so funny with that missing front tooth. Must've hurt, too." A violent jerking of the ship cut my laugh short. "What was that?"

"Don't worry, girls," the pilot said. "We always get these storm systems on the way in. I've seen it a hundred times."

The ship shook again as the rain clouds thickened. My hands gripped the armrests like vises. The pilot's head bobbed up and down as the ship seemed to surf through the clouds. The pilot didn't seem fazed, and his playful demeanor was starting to irritate me. I really wanted him to focus, or at least pretend to focus.

Thunder clapped, rolling through the ship. Suddenly the tail of the ship slipped around to the front. I screamed until I realized I was the only one screaming, and I forced myself to stop.

"Is this one of the rides?" Roxanne asked. "It feels like it."

"No way," I replied. "No safety harnesses."

The ship shuddered again. The pilot flipped out of his chair and hit hard against the deck.

Immediately, I slid out of my chair and grabbed him. Roxanne hurried to the controls. The man had a large gash along his forehead, and his right arm was bent sideways at an angle nature never intended. I wasn't a doctor, but I thought he had dislocated his elbow. "Mister Pilot." I tapped on his chest. "Are you okay?"

"Get me to the chair," he muttered. "I need to land us."

"Okay." I put my hands under his back and pushed him into a sitting position. He groaned in such a horrific way that I immediately lowered him to the floor again.

"What're you doing?" Whitney came up from behind me. "Are you exercising him?"

"I wasn't doing yoga," I barked. "He wanted back in the chair."

"Vicky," Roxanne said.

I ignored Roxanne and concentrated on Whitney as her hands ran along the man's arm. He winced in pain.

"Stop that." I grabbed at Whitney. "What're you doing?"

"Get back." She pushed my hand away. "I'm a nurse."

"Nurse?" I said skeptically.

"Yes, I'm your assistant health professional for the summer. Surely you read your employment report."

"Oh, you're Beatrice Phavors."

"Shh," she said. "Whitney. Always Whitney."

"Vicky." Roxanne kept her pestering going.

"Roxy," I snapped. "I'm trying to talk to Whitney about the pilot."

"The pilot will be part of Venus in a second!" she yelled at me. "Get up here."

Out of the front viewport, I could see the surface of Venus becoming more visible through the thick clouds. If we didn't correct our course soon, we'd be dead.

"Whitney, tend to him." I rushed to the front and slipped into the captain's chair. Roxanne's hands were moving a mile a minute on the side controls . . . but the ship wasn't doing anything. "Why aren't you pulling up?"

"The only reason we aren't dead yet is because I'm keeping the shields intact. The temperature outside is hotter than a barbecue, and the acid that got through the shields is eating us alive."

I believed her. Roxanne was a tech head, and I really didn't understand how she did half the things she did. But she was always right about that stuff. "What should I do?"

"Pull us up or Venus will drag us into its surface."

So far, Venus hadn't welcomed us. Perhaps she was a bit jealous of our beauty. "How do I fly it?"

"The control stick is a start," Roxanne said. "You told me you read the driver's manual for your hovercar tests."

"It seems so different . . . but it can't be that much different from the hoverbikes I've driven." I yanked back on the control stick. The ship's nose jumped up, and the tail dropped down. It looped one full turn end over end, and I let go.

"Vicky!" Whitney called.

"What're you doing?" Roxanne mumbled between finger taps.

"I don't know! Sue me!" But a second later, I understood why it had flipped. It was an internal computer safety measure. Shuttles were bigger than hovercars, and they weren't designed for sharp upward turns. Sort of like an elephant couldn't turn from side to side as fast as a jackrabbit.

I licked my lips. The surface was closer and gaining more quickly than I would've liked. I'd never be able to pull up in time. I grabbed the control stick again and lightly pulled the ship upward. A plan formed as I scanned the orangey, brownish- yellow surface.

"Pull up faster," Whitney shouted at me.

"I'm trying, but if I flip around again, what's the point? I'm thinking ahead."

"Yank it!" Whitney screamed. "Or we're pancakes."

"No," I said. "The shuttle wasn't designed for it. The safeties flipped me around on purpose."

"The safeties are going to kill us," Roxanne said. "I'll stop them."

"No! Keep on the shields. I know what to do."

"But—"

"Roxy, trust me." I eyed the massive volcano to our right and veered slowly to the left. The dark patch on the ground sorta looked like a canyon, but it could also have been a sulfuric acid lake. I knew I'd have to risk it.

According to warnings on my dash, the surface was only a few hundred feet away. Alerts chimed, and I gritted my teeth as the shuttle fired its rockets toward what I hoped was a canyon. Our descent slowed, but we would definitely hit the dark patch.

"What're you doing?" Whitney pressed into me and grabbed the control stick. The shuttle jerked back and forth. "Your rich-girl cowardice is going to kill us."

"Don't do that!" I pushed her face and pulled her backward until she let go. "Get away!" I shoved her hard, and she fell on her butt.

I grabbed the control stick again. The dark patch was still in our flight path. We were meters from hitting it.

Flash! The lights on the front of the shuttle burst on and displayed a brilliant canyon with waterfalls of sulfuric acid on either side.

"I got the lights working, and the shields are stable," Roxanne said. "Lucky it was a canyon, Vicks."

"Yeah, nice guess," Whitney mumbled as she rubbed her rear. "Thanks for not killing us. Seriously, thanks."

"Sorry for pushing you," I said sincerely. I didn't like hurting people, but sometimes it was necessary if they were spazzing out. "I took a guess . . . an educated guess . . . because you have to respect the safety standards. It's policy at our parks."

"So the shuttle flipped on purpose?" Whitney said. On her feet now, she leaned over my shoulder to look at the canyon walls.

"Yeah, so the engines wouldn't rip us in two. Ships of this size aren't like the little fighter jets you see at air shows, so they build in safety measures." I fanned my face with my hand. "Why's it so hot in here?"

Sweat dripped from all three of us. The near-crash was dangerous but not that dangerous.

"I told you it was hot outside," Roxanne said. "Its seven hundred degrees. Venus's beautiful clouds are a hot blanket over the planet."

I guided the shuttle gingerly back above the canyon and pushed it upward toward the lower clouds.

"Mayday, Mayday," Roxanne said into her headset.

We waited for a good fifteen seconds, but no reply came.

"How's the pilot?" I asked.

Whitney nodded toward him. "In pain, but I set the dislocation. He'll need some concussion meds."

"So he'll make it?"

"If we do."

"Mayday, Mayday," Roxanne repeated.

I grabbed a headset from above and slipped it on. "Mayday. Mayday. Venusville, do you copy? City in the clouds . . . hello?"

No reply.

"Maybe we drifted off course," Whitney said. "We're on the other side of the planet now. Get into orbit again."

"We can't," Roxanne said. "I don't think the shields will hold."

"How do you know any of this?" Whitney asked. "What're you, ten?"

The small-framed Roxanne shot Whitney a wicked eye. "Thirteen, and I've worked on deep-space haulers my whole life. If you don't know how to fix a ship out there, you're one of the floating dead. You know them?"

I did. The floating dead was the name given to the ships found in the outer solar system that had had engine troubles and no one had heard their Maydays. They'd float for years until someone found the skeletons, usually pressed against the portholes, looking for another ship. Creepy stuff.

"So we're going to be the buried dead on Venus?" Whitney said. "Just great."

"Technically," I said, "we'll probably be liquefied after the acid breaches the hull, and we'll join the primordial ooze."

Whitney's face soured. "Primordial ooze? Sounds gruesome."

I tapped on the controls to set us on a level course. "That's how we started millions of years ago on Earth, so maybe in a few million years, we'll start a civilization on Venus."

"Great." Whitney threw herself into a passenger seat. "Lost in hell. This planet doesn't look so beautiful all of a sudden."

I agreed with her. The ship hovered over the rough, bleak surface. I leaned back in my chair with my hands to my face. To fail and not even get my chance at Vacationland really was hell. It would torment me forever.

Chapter 2

Mayday, Shmayday

"Mayday, Mayday!" I screamed into the headset for the thousandth time. "Pick it up! Ah!"

I slammed the headset on the dashboard. It rattled to the floor. Two hours of floating a thousand meters from the surface. I dared not fly around because the clouds were a maze, and we'd just get more lost.

Roxanne lay on the floor, sweating and barely conscious. Whitney toweled her head with water, but Roxy's red, overheated face and dry, dehydrated lips worried me. I turned away to worry about something else. Several alerts flashed on the dashboard, but I had no idea how to fix them. Roxanne had said it was impossible.

About an hour earlier, the pilot had fallen unconscious, and Whitney couldn't revive him. Rain splashed across the hull again, and the shields fizzed. Any second the hull would melt away.

I tapped on the control panel, thinking that I should've learned more about shuttles instead of Mars's most powerful celebrity couples. "Jake Holloway and Jana Lee Delany," I muttered.

"The Martian celebrity couple?" Whitney said. "Shouldn't you be thinking about a way out of here?"

"Why aren't you?" I snapped back.

"I'm a med tech," she said. "If it was a dislocated elbow, I'd fix it. Like I already did."

"How's Roxy doing?"

"Muttering and overheated. She needs to cool down."

I toweled my face, but found that the towel was wet and heavy. I tossed it to the floor. "I was babbling about celebrity couples on Mars. It's the last magazine I read on my tablet. I wish I'd read the shuttle's manual."

Whitney nodded. "Yeah. I did a word puzzle. Seems pointless now."

"Follow the money," Roxanne whispered.

"Follow the money?" Whitney repeated. "She's going loco."

"No," I said. "That's what I always tell people when I hear about a crime or something. It's always about money in the end. It solves lots of problems to find out why the person wanted the money and where it came from."

"If we die," Whitney said, "I guess your brothers and sisters will bank the company."

"Just brothers. Hmm . . . the shuttle company would lose a pretty penny on this express-class shuttle." An idea hit me. "They take precautions to ensure they can find them if something goes wrong."

"So—"

"Wait." I put my finger up. "They also alert satellites if the pilot does something stupid, like overheating the engines."

I tapped on the controls, slipped the shuttle into a standing hover, and pushed the engines to maximum throttle. The engine alerts across the dashboard lit up like a Christmas tree. I held them steady.

"You're going to kill us again," Whitney whined. "What crazy idea hit you?"

"I might kill us, but the idea is sound. Shuttle Express has asset tracking. It's so simple. If someone is going to lose money, they'll do anything to protect it. We track our hoverscooters at our huge parks, or someone will steal them. There's a huge computer room. Anyway, it'll work . . . I hope."

"But if we blow up?"

"If we melt, if we suffocate, if we bake to death, if we dehydrate . . . I prefer to fight until the end."

Whitney sat beside me. "I'll admit it's a clever idea. Sometimes I wonder if the corporations care more about their inventory than about us."

"Not always," I said. "So you don't like Beatrice? It's a pretty name."

"Beatrice. Everyone looks at me like I'm an old woman."

"I never go by Victoria, so I guess I have a little avoidance in me, too. I was really looking forward to running Vacationland this semester. My mother finally trusted me with a park, and I have all these ideas to help it."

"You're young, but you expected to run a park already?"

"I've run the swan rides in Acadia City on Mars every summer since I was eight. Never missed a profit on it."

"Really? I rode those when I was little. They were fun. So lifelike."

"Thanks." I removed a picture from my purse and showed it to her. "That's me on the swan boats as a kid. My first summer."

Whitney laughed. "Those high-hipped pants are priceless. I hope you wear those this semester."

"Those plaid beauties are Valentine entertainment official attire. You'll see me in them."

"I can't wait . . . to laugh."

I chuckled at her kidding. "I get it. We work hard to present a professional look, from the pants to the lifelike swans. My mom settles for nothing but the best."

"Sales pitch—"

"Martian Shuttle Vixen I. Follow our vector," a voice crackled over the radio.

Two Venus fighter ships swooped in alongside us. I scrambled to find the headset and put it on. "This is Vicky Valentine. The pilot is injured. I'm flying the shuttle, and I don't have a license."

"Power down your engines, and we'll bring you in. We saw the signal. It's a wonder you survived this low to the surface. Everything okay?"

"It's a bit sweaty in here." I powered down the engines and pushed forward to come between the fighter ships. They led me on the path upward toward the clouds. I knew we'd have to go back into them, and I wasn't looking forward to it, but it was better than the alternative.

The coolers on the shuttle lowered their critical temperatures, and the outside was only two hundred degrees against the hull. As the cool air flowed, Whitney draped herself over the rear cooling exhaust, and Roxanne lay under the front grate.

She looked better, and I was gaining confidence we'd be able to land. The weather in the area calmed to only gusty winds. My hands locked on the control stick. I hadn't let go in an hour.

Whitney came from behind. "Drink this water," she ordered.

"But—"

"Trust me."

I took the water and downed the entire bottle. "Thanks. I needed that."

"You'll probably need a dozen more when we land."

The fighter planes turned toward Venusville, and the silvery-yellow colony came into view for the first time. The massive colony, cone-shaped, drifted peacefully in the sulfur clouds. As I stared, it became evident that a tether, stretching to the surface, captured the expansive city structure from below. The city used eight massive antigravity engines as buoys to float within the thick, dense atmosphere.

Most of the colony's residents lived along the domed top where buildings rose from several different levels. I squinted hard but couldn't make out Vacationland from this position. It was hiding from me on the other side.

"Wow," Whitney said. "Here's the beauty of Venus."

"And the Valentines own a piece of it." Pride blossomed within me when I thought of my family's contribution to this magnificent achievement. I stared at it for a long moment. The huge colony dwarfed our shuttle now. It was the size of a mountain or a small moon around Saturn. For the first time, I could see residents scurrying about through its complex array of windows and shields, the acidic rain repelled by some force I couldn't fathom.

"Miss Valentine, please stay on course. Your shuttle doesn't need any extra work."

Prying my eyes from the colony, I adjusted the shuttle behind the fighters. The colony opened up wide to reveal a hangar inside. Drifting gently, we came through a huge set of twin doors. It felt as if we flew through the mouth of a giant beast.

The rain stopped instantly. The brightness of the hangar momentarily blinded me, and it took some effort to focus on my new surroundings. The fighter pilots sent me some instructions, and I landed the shuttle on the deck with only the slightest of jolts.

"Woo!" I said. "Perfect landing."

I stood to check on Roxy, but the shuttle shifted backward. The snap of metal reverberated through the ship, and Whitney and I spilled across the deck. "What was that?"

"Shuttle Vixen I," the speaker crackled again, "your landing gear has corroded away. Stay seated until we can mist you."

"Now you tell us." I pushed myself to my knees. "You okay, Whitney?"

"Yeah," she said. "We survived."

Roxanne sat up. "My headache is full migraine. My mouth tastes like an alligator burped."

"Mine, too," I said. "Medical techs will come."

Whitney nodded, holding her head, too. "We're dehydrated."

The windshield frosted over. Soon the green light over the exit ramp flashed. I pressed the button, and the portside hull peeled backward to drop the gangway down. But instead of gliding nicely, the ramp snapped off its hinge and fell with a terrific clap to the floor.

I jumped back. "Yikes!"

Gingerly, I helped Whitney and Roxanne to the hangar's deck. I jumped down next. From behind me, security personnel and a med team ran up. Someone official-looking came directly to me. "Miss Valentine, I'm Chief of Security Gunnery. Glad to see you successfully made your first landing."

"All in a day's work for the new girl around here," I said. "Nothing to worry about. I do it all the time."

The man eyed me and then pointed over my shoulder. "Perhaps the view from inside was a little better than outside."

I turned. The hull was pockmarked with hundreds of corroded, melted holes. And where there was paint before, only bare metal remained. Suddenly my arrogance wasn't so funny. I'd been closer to death than I even realized. I swallowed and nervously smiled at Gunnery.

He nodded, looking as if he somehow knew the knot in my stomach was so tight that I might . . .

And I did. I puked gobs of my inflight meal over the deck.
Chapter 3

A Day Late but at Least a New Day

It took another night to convince the medical crew I was fit to move around, but I finally got approval.

In the hotel suite on Venusville, I had extra energy, and I woke up early in the morning to do my stretching exercises, a habit of mine since I'd competed in the gymnastics championships on Mars when I was eight. I finished a distant twenty-fifth, my first indication that business and finance was my strength.

I gathered my satchel with the Vacationland datapads and straightened my tight-fitting pantsuit. The purple jacket and the green, gray, and purple plaid pants of Valentine Entertainment looked a bit more formal than what I usually wore, but as the leader of the park for the semester, I needed to be professional.

Roxanne took a cue from me. At my strong suggestion, she wore a similar suit, but her jacket was light purple and her pants were mostly white, with a hint of plaid. She looked every part my assistant. "You look great," she said. "Very boss-like, Vicky."

"Hopefully not too bossy." I checked my pulled-up blond hair in the mirror. "Or maybe too bossy."

"Vicky, don't be silly."

"Remember, I'm Miss Valentine at the park, Miss Larson."

"Oh, of course, Miss Valentine."

"I couldn't wait to leave that medical ward. Why Dextra Devereaux didn't let us head over there yesterday afternoon I'll never know. Maybe she's punishing me for being late. Thinks I was flying around on some joyride. Some spoiled rich kid."

"Geesh. Whitney really did a number on you with that comment."

"It's just . . ." My voice trailed away. I didn't want to admit to Roxanne why I was so nervous. If I didn't get an A or better, I wouldn't be on a path to run the company. "Better than an A" was how my mother put it. I didn't know how I'd exceed an A, but I'd try.

"You saved three people's lives. You earned a night of rest or maybe three: one for each person you saved."

I chuckled. "Whitney's kinda short. Maybe two and a half."

"Watch it," Roxanne said. "She'll be a friend, I hope. She's pretty, funny, and she was nice."

"Yeah, I think we'll be friends even with the comment hanging over my head. Why did you mutter 'Follow the money'? I've been meaning to ask you."

"Simple." Roxanne checked her light brown hair one more time in the mirror. "Vicky Valentine always thinks clearer when she 'follows the money.' You were trying to figure out power systems and flight controls, not thinking about the real problem."

"I guess I was attacking it like you. I should always play to my strength."

"Exactly. Go run Vacationland like you were born to do."

"The best assistant ever." I hopped out the doorway, excited about my first day on the job.

Dextra Devereaux was a forty-something lifetime professional of many different businesses, from shoe stores to manufacturing plants to finance companies, all the way to a theme park. She had more companies on her resume than I had years on my life. And to me, it meant she wasn't to be trusted. It meant she didn't care about the companies that hired her. She cared about moving to the top, and when she couldn't move any higher, she moved on.

"When's the 'roundup'?" I asked as Roxanne and I crowded into Dextra's tight office. There were datapads everywhere, and I couldn't understand how she possibly kept anything straight.

"Roundup?" Dextra said. "I have orders to approve."

"Company policy," I stated. "Everyone meets for a pre-shift strategy meeting. The roundup."

"We don't do that here," she said. "We found those pep talks pointless. The managers handle things themselves."

"The roundups do help," I said. "Perhaps you weren't running them correctly."

"Excuse me?" she said. "I've been running businesses for twenty years. I know how to motivate my employees. Don't think you'll teach me a thing."

"And I've been helping my mother run Valentine Entertainment since I was four. Our policies work. I'm in charge here."

Dextra eyed me. "I can change that at any time with one report." I was about to reply, but she thrust her hand up and activated her phone. "Janine, get the staff together at the front court for a roundup."

"Yes, ma'am," the woman replied on the phone.

"There," Dextra said. "Mrs. Jeffery is organizing it. Anything else?"

"Yes," I said, disregarding her patronizing tone. "A few more things. I'm changing the roster assignments you had for the intern staff. I reviewed their strengths and weaknesses and moved them accordingly."

"I assigned those because students requested certain areas in the park. It's courtesy to accommodate them."

"Not to the detriment of the park," I insisted. I'd reviewed every detail of the employee files, and I was certain I was correct. "Spencer Craft has no experience with customer service. I'll move him to ride repair because of his mechanical skills. Likewise with Troy Gamble. He isn't a mechanic, so he'll be at the ticket and complaint desk, greeting customers."

"If you think it's best," Dextra said in a condescending tone.

I ignored it. "I'm also wondering why our profits aren't better. The attendance is at a reasonable pace, but—"

"Be here for a week and then ask me that question," she replied. "Miss Valentine, with all due respect, I'll follow your mother's request until I see you as a detriment to the park. You might think Vacationland is a chance for you to show off, but I'm here to make sure you don't screw things up. That's where we stand. Next time you make roster changes, check with me first."

Nervously, I tapped the datapad in my hand and looked at the roster assignments. I was so sure of my choices on the shuttle in, but now doubts were creeping into my mind. I stared at Dextra for a long moment, wanting to give in. No, Valentine policies and guidelines had always worked. "I'll proceed as I stated."

"Very well," she said as she moved toward the door. "I'll meet you outside."

As we walked out of the room, I paused. "Make sure you wear the purple jacket tomorrow." I pointed to mine.

She grumbled and shut the door behind me.

As the employees stood in front of me, I could see I'd have a lot of work to do. All of them had scowls on their faces, except Whitney. I think she was perhaps enjoying that I'd have to work so hard to win everyone over.

"Line up, everyone," I announced, but several of them continued to talk to each other. "Listen here."

They continued to ignore me.

"Huddle up!" Dextra yelled. Everyone stopped instantly and lined up in front of Dextra and me.

"Thank you," I said. "I'm Vicky Valentine, head of Vacationland for this semester. I'm here to make this theme park better, and I hope you want the same thing. For employees, it means bonuses, and for school interns, it means better grades and scholarship funds."

"So it's all about profits?" Becky Ballard said. I recognized her profile picture from the intern program. "Typical."

"Miss Ballard, this isn't a forum," I said. "It isn't about profits only. It's about the success of the park, including satisfaction, returning visitors, and other factors."

"Satisfaction?" Troy Gamble said. "Do we have a happy-meter?"

"You're going to learn a lot about satisfaction, Mr. Gamble. You've been assigned to the ticket desk. Mrs. Houser is your manager."

Troy crossed his arms. "I asked to be on ride repair, and I was assured I'd get that job. I've been doing it for the past four days."

"The ticket desk is your new assignment. Additional assignments are as follows: Miss Ballard is assigned to mascots and customer entertainment with Mrs. Carver; Mr. Craft is assigned to ride repair with Mr. Tracker; Miss Phavors to the med team with Mrs. Quinton; Miss . . ."

I went on to assign everyone to a department for the semester. Their cold stares wrapped around my confidence and squeezed it tightly, but I didn't waver. I'd made proper choices, and if they didn't like it, it wasn't for them to argue. They had jobs to do and grades to make.

I ended the meeting with what I knew would be unpopular, but it had to be done. "Finally, have a good semester, and let me know if there are any problems, no matter how small. Also, boys tuck in your shirts, and girls, only wear skin-toned makeup. Wash your colorful faces in the sink before the customers arrive. Demerits will be given for not following policy—even to managers and employees."

"We only have five minutes," Dextra said. "Can we wait on these little things?"

"No, the crowd can wait three minutes for us to prepare. From the first to the last customer, Vacationland will provide a perfect experience for all."

Everyone was grumbling, but I held firm.

"Very well," Dextra said. "The eighteen shuttles from Earth will have to wait longer. Go, people. Move! Get cleaned up and tuck in your shirts."

Everyone scrambled to tuck in their shirts and straighten their uniforms. I noticed that Dextra had changed her jacket, and I was grateful. She seemed to be cooperating, which would help with the rest of the employees.

Becky Ballard came up to me after stewing for a long minute or so. "Vicky, I'm not a mascot. I don't want to be stuck in a hot costume all day. Put me on ticket counter as I asked. I work best with customers and finances."

"You have gymnastic awards on your resume. You'll be able to do the tricks that Barley the Bear is famous for."

"I'm not a showpiece. I want—"

"Vacationland wants you as a mascot. That's what matters, and your team score will reflect your cooperation."

"I said I wanted to be in customer service. Do it now, you spoiled rich b—"

"Don't finish, please," I said, cutting her off. "One demerit for your attitude."

Becky's eyes flared, and she stomped her foot. She put her hands on her hips, shifted her weight a few times, and finally stormed off.

"Making quite the impression on the first day." Whitney smirked as she walked up. "I'm glad I'm still with the med team."

I grumbled at her. "You enjoyed it, didn't you? Watching me in that tough situation."

"You created that tough situation for yourself. I was prepared for it. They weren't. I knew you'd change everything."

"How?"

"Remember this isn't my first day with you. I'm the only one with a prep course in Vicky Valentine's school of how to cheese everyone off."

"I'm not trying to cheese off anyone," I said. "They'll see I'm correct."

"Aside from me, everyone has already had two weeks with Ms. Devereaux. They like her. She's loose with the rules and accommodating to their wishes."

"Well," I countered, "loose has a profit of almost zero. I'm here to get Vacationland back into solid positive territory."

"It's your business," she said. "Here's hoping I'm not too busy this semester."

"You better get to the med station. Always some skinned knees in the mad dash to the best rides when we open."

Whitney walked away.

Roxanne and I were alone. I tapped on my pad and cleared my checklist of initial assignments. "My charts say we're ready."

"The park is very impressive." Roxanne pointed into the distance. "What's that ride called?"

"Stellar Mountain. It drops the entire length of the colony. Its twists and turns guarantee your grandma will barf. I think that was our advertising campaign this year."

"I gotta try that one," she said. "And the Swerver. And the Bat Cave. And the Falcon Drop. And the Love Tunnel."

"Love Tunnel? You've got your eye on one of the boys? What about Luke on Mars?"

Roxanne rubbed the back of her neck. "Luke and I are cool for a bit. He broke up with me."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be. He and I needed to branch out. I sorta thought Troy was handsome."

"Guys with crossed arms and smart attitudes aren't so attractive to me. Let's head to the—"

"Miss Valentine!" Spencer Craft ran from the back of the park toward us. "We've got a problem."

"Mr. Craft, we haven't even opened yet."

He stopped in front of me. He was a cute boy from Earth with dirty blond hair and a crooked smile. Just the type of boy that I found dangerous. He could distract me from running the park. "Mr. Tracker says that Stellar Mountain has a jammed tunnel. It's going to take three hours to clear it."

"What?" I said, fearing the customer reaction. "Get a move on and help him. I'll divert the customers somehow."

This problem was only the beginning of my nightmare day. We headed to the office to get to the main control center for the park. Within five minutes of arriving, Roxanne was taking down a list of problems. Finally, around noon, I had to close the door to my office. I needed five minutes to think.
Chapter 4

Everyone's Against Me! Why Me? Why?

"I got items five through twenty on the list." Dextra charged into the office with a fistful of blue hair. "This was jamming the sonic spinners. Someone's wig. There are cosplay freaks everywhere today with the Mission to Neptune convention on the colony."

"I got two through four," Roxanne said as she tied her hair behind her head. "The techs really should read the Mechanics Quarterly because the problems were all in this month's edition."

"I'm still working on the first problem." I slammed my fist on the desk. "Please," I said to the colony maintenance crewmember I finally got on the phone, "we need someone to give us authority to clear a section of the track not on our property. It's the stretch down the south side of the colony."

"What company is this again?" the man on the phone asked.

"Vacationland," I said. "The theme park."

"We have it on our list."

"When?"

Click.

"Of all the nerve!" I slammed my phone on the desk.

"Miss Valentine. Allow me." Dextra dialed her phone. She talked for maybe two minutes and then hung up. "It will be cleared within five minutes."

"How did you do that?"

Dextra tapped her name tag that read, Dextra Devereaux – Head Manager. "You don't become head manager without knowing how to do a few things."

"What did you do?"

"I have experience in running this park, and I do it efficiently. Operation assignments and uniforms aren't the problem at Vacationland."

I didn't need her to point out that my changes weren't helping. My first day was a disaster, but it wasn't because of my changes. I was convinced everyone was sabotaging things on purpose to make it look as if I didn't know what I was doing. The swan rides in Acadia City had twenty problems a year. We'd had that in the first three hours. Impossible.

"Please," I said. "What did you say? Please tell me."

"I used to date the head of colony maintenance. He's a good friend now. It's as simple as creating friends in this world."

"Oh," I said. "Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"A lesson and because I was assigned my tasks and told to 'get on with it . . . no more talk.' "

"Well . . ." I stood and straightened my jacket to retain some semblance of pride because inside, my confidence was shattered. "Ms. Devereaux, please feel free to correct me in the future."

"Miss Valentine, I understand your family's success, but the policy book is only a guideline and not a stern rule, especially at Vacationland. I'm here to help you."

"Yes, ma'am." I nodded.

"I'll tell you what," she said. "I'll get the team back in order as they're scrambling around. The day may look bad, but attendance is very high because of the shuttles from Earth. Let's finish strong."

"Yes, ma'am."

With that, Dextra Devereaux hurried out of the office.

I held back tears. I was so angry and so upset with myself. My changes had upset the staff, and they acted out. I should've made my changes through Dextra, but I wanted to show off, or at least show that I wasn't a spoiled rich girl or given the job only because I was a Valentine. I had earned it. "Did I do it wrong, Roxy?" I asked. "Did I make bad choices?"

"You made the choices you thought were right. As Ms. Devereaux stated, the attendance is high today, so there were bound to be problems. Stellar Mountain has opened, and the first hundred are loving the ride. Everyone will get a turn in the end."

"Thanks, but you don't think my choices were right. You avoided the question."

"It's not my place," she said. "I don't know the whole picture. I don't have access to the personnel files."

"Should I have given assignments by ability or preference?"

"It's not my—"

"Roxy, honesty."

"I came on the condition that I would be your assistant. If that hadn't been settled, you'd probably have reassigned me to the mechanics."

"You could run the mechanics, if you wanted."

"But I want to learn something new. These are school internships, remember. About learning."

"I understand." But I didn't agree. In the real world, people did what they did best.

My goal was to get a bigger profit for Vacationland because my mother would either close it or fire staff members to get it profitable. It wasn't enough to have full attendance or a smooth-running operation. For my mom, it was about the bottom line. It's what she saw on her screen in the morning, not the staff's satisfaction and not the staff's high fives. Managers make choices that keep jobs, and I'd continue to make choices I thought were right. Or I'd become an even bigger enemy of the staff when I started escorting them out of the park to the unemployment line.

I sat in my chair and spun around. I hopped up a moment later. "Let's go, Roxy."

"Coming." She followed behind me.

I hurried through the park, happy to see gangs of kids laughing and running between the rides. It was what I wanted to see in our theme parks. The mascots posed for pictures with lines of guests. The Martian cliff divers were entertaining a crowd of guests, and the "oohs" and "ahs" really got my spirits up. Maybe Dextra was right. Maybe I was overreacting to our problems.

Though . . . maybe not. The line at the complaint counter was thick and long. I ran through to the side of the booth and hopped in beside a frazzled Troy Gamble.

"Then jump down the tube yourself," he said angrily to a guest who had complained about Stellar Mountain being closed and the lines being long.

The customer slammed his fist on the counter. "We came all the way from Neptune to get on that ride. How can it be down? It's on all your commercials."

"Then watch it—"

"I'm sorry, Mister," I cut in. "Please take a voucher for a free soda for your family so you can wait in line in comfort. Stellar Mountain is open now."

The man snatched the coupons in a huff and left.

"Mr. Gamble, you can't speak like that to a guest."

"Oh great," he snapped at me. "Miss Bossy is here to complain, too. I told you I shouldn't be in customer service."

"It said in your personnel file you had customer service experience."

"Yeah. I worked one summer at Fatty Burgers, and I hated it. That's why it wasn't my preference. You put a firecracker into the fire."

"As Miss Larson said, everyone could stand to learn new tricks. I'll work with you to clear this line. Roxanne, help us, too."

I hopped on the station between Troy and Roxanne. It took us two hours, but the line finally dissipated to only a few every couple of minutes. I'd given away several sodas and a handful of refunds. Worse, the customers had beat me down to almost a shell of my former self.

"Well," Roxanne said, looking at her datapad. "Barley the Bear caused a scene by taking off her head in front of the crowd."

"What?" I yelled. "I'm going to . . . I can't believe it. That's the golden rule of any theme park. She did that on purpose."

"I'm getting conflicting reports about what happened, but Ms. Devereaux took care of it."

"Roxanne, why is everyone trying to ruin me?"

"No one is trying to ruin you, Miss Valentine. It's a tough day. Long lines. Just analyze it tonight and adjust."

I didn't believe her. When I had walked up to the complaint counter, Troy was being purposely rude, and if I hadn't stayed, he probably would've continued. Becky tried to get herself kicked out of the entertainment team. Who knows what the others had done.

Nighttime rolled around, and the crowd transitioned into the half-price ticket buyers. I didn't say much to Roxanne the rest of the day. I let her start her analysis on the complaints. I handled more customer relations issues, and Dextra had me run to the back of the park to get more cups and plates for the diners at our fast food counters.

It didn't seem like a manager's work, but no one was moving, so I jumped at the chance. It was my only victory of the day. I got sodas in people's hands and plates under their French fries.

I walked back to the office with dust and grime all over my jacket. I heard the chuckles and the exit announcement of Barley the Bear sound all over the park. Twenty minutes later, the lights dimmed. My day was over.

Roxanne met me at the door to the office. I sat looking at her in the doorway.

"I left the data on the tablets on your desk," she said. "You can enter the information and verify that it's correct. I'll meet you at the hotel."

"Where're you going?" I asked. "Aren't you going to have dinner with me?"

"Well . . . Miss Valentine . . . the others invited me to go to the Space Café down the way. I told them okay because you won't be finished for another hour or two."

I nodded. I really didn't want to do the financials, but it was my job to get them entered. "I'll see you later."

The guests cleared out in fifteen minutes. The night crew started the cleanup, and I sat looking out the window at the peaceful park. The rides were shut down, the gaming booths were silent, and the garbage was stacked high in the bins. My chaos was over. Only ninety-nine more days until I headed back to Mars.

It depressed me to think I was already looking forward to returning. It meant I had failed already.
Chapter 5

Creatures Here, Too

Is It My Perfume?

The next four days at Vacationland were much the same as the first. I ran around without any clue why the employees weren't following my instructions. I handed out several demerits, which gained me no favor with the interns.

Roxanne was sensational, keeping the rides operational, and Dextra was doing a fantastic job with customer relations. Simply put, the employees weren't listening to me. I started giving Dextra my instructions, and then she'd tell them to do something close to what I said. If what they did didn't follow policy, I'd give another demerit. I hated doing it, but I needed order. Everyone told me what they did was "close enough." Close wasn't the Valentine way. I had always done it our way because that's how we built our successful business. Here, everything was different, and I didn't understand.

By the end of my fifth day, and feeling at the end of my rope, I had had enough of Spencer's reports. I stormed into the repair shed on the backside of the park. The maintenance intern had been filling out incorrect maintenance reports, and I was going to get him to correct them. I had to start somewhere, so I picked him as my battle for the day.

"Mr. Craft," I said as I came up to the repair desk, "your repair reports are unacceptable. I need you to correct them before you leave." I slammed the pad on the desk.

He was hunched over a greasy motor and didn't move, so I did it again.

Slowly, he turned toward me. His dark hazel eyes caught me by surprise. They were so sweet and deep.

"I . . . I said these are unacceptable." I think I got the words out, but I couldn't feel my body anymore. I couldn't believe he was doing this to me. I felt myself blushing from head to toe.

He brushed back his wet, dark brown hair from his greasy forehead. His hands were black and disgusting. So very . . . disgusting.

"I believe I followed the report instructions." He pointed to the wall with a checklist of items to include. "What's wrong?"

I tapped on the screen. "Report 4456. Where's the part number and the ride?"

He grabbed my pad and flipped to the second page in the report. "Right there. And there. See?"

I read the description, and it did have the part number and ride, but it was jumbled into one paragraph. It wasn't right. "Why do you think we have the part number and ride above on the first page?"

"It's easier and quicker to enter them where I did. Do you want this done or things done later?"

"It only takes an extra minute to enter them in the correct section."

"I recall a frantic call yesterday where a certain manager wanted Galaxy Trek up five minutes ago. I didn't think I could tell her I had a report to finish."

"Don't say that," I said sternly. "I wasn't frantic when I called. You know what I meant, and you can fill out the reports during quiet periods. They aren't due until the end of the day."

Spencer sat back with a smile. "Quiet periods with the head of theme park operations calling on the quarter hour asking when something is going to be repaired? Then we have our maintenance logs to complete. Those need to be done by noon."

"I'm not calling—"

"Look at the wall there." He pointed to a whiteboard with a series of some twenty ticks on it. "That's a list of your calls from today."

Furious, I dashed over to the whiteboard and brushed away everything that was on it. "You have time to make fun of me. Do you like demerits?"

He tossed the tablet on the desk. "I expect to get those removed by my manager Mr. Tracker. The log was complete, Miss Valentine. Minutes are valuable in the repair shop."

I grabbed the tablet and ran my hands over its backside. His grimy hands had covered it in grease. "You jerk. Do you have any solvent to clean this?"

"Over there," he said. "Use the clean rags from the top shelf."

I moved over to the sink and vigorously started to clean my tablet. I used the solvent, but I dropped the bottle into the sink. It rattled loudly.

"Don't waste it," Spencer said, "or I'll have to fill out a report."

"Shut up." I hastily grabbed the rag from the top shelf, and the entire pile fell to the floor. "Damn it."

"Should I add that to the safety report?" Spencer grinned at me.

"Don't start with me. I'm warning you." I replaced the rags on the shelf and used one to rub the grease off my hands. But the more I rubbed and the more solvent I used, the more the grease smeared everywhere.

Then my tablet fell into the water-filled sink. I grabbed it quickly, but it sparked and I dropped it to the floor, smashing it. In the same motion, the water splashed up and spilled all over my pants and blouse.

I tried to ignore it and poured more solvent on my hands, but I couldn't scrub off the grease. I started to cry. Tears streamed down my face, and I began to take hiccup-like breaths. I just wanted to get the grease off . . . to do something right.

"Miss Valentine." Spencer stood beside me. He grabbed my hands to stop me from shaking.

"No." I tried to push him away, but instead, I dropped my head, crying heavily.

"Miss Valentine." Spencer put his hand on my shoulder. "I can do the reports as you want. You don't need to cry about it."

"It's . . . it's . . . it's not that. It's everything. Nobody is listening to me."

"Strict Vick has a heart. We never would've guessed."

I hadn't heard that one. My crying increased. Not only did they not respect me, they belittled me behind my back, too. "I'm just . . . I'm just trying to run it the way my family always has."

"Listen, I can do the reports as you want. I didn't know it meant that much to you."

He let me cry for a minute or so. I could feel his gentle touch on my back, and I appreciated it. "It's not the reports. I came to get you to do them right, but I failed again. No one is listening to me."

"Sometimes it isn't about telling someone to do something. You have to show them why it's better." He handed me his tablet with the report on it. "Show me why you need the information in a particular order." He handed me a rag, dabbed the tears from my face, and pointed to a report.

"If we get the fields correct," I explained, "our computer systems can track things and get the inventory correct and make the park more efficient."

"For bigger profits?"

"No . . . well, yes. It means bigger bonuses for everyone, including interns. You know about the final semester scholarship program."

"That's why I took this assignment. Earth doesn't give much in the way of scholarships for off-planet colleges."

"Oh, you're from Earth. You're so nice, though."

His face tightened. "A backhanded slap to my home planet. It's no wonder you can't get through to anyone."

I blushed. I did have some prejudice against earthlings, but only because I'd never met one. Or I should say, never been friends with one. "Sorry, I'm a bit of a Martian snob that way. It's all ignorance because I really haven't been to Earth. I'd like to learn."

He helped me to my feet. "Let's restart from before that comment. I'm Spencer Craft from Earth."

"I'm Vicky Valentine from Mars. Thanks for showing me how to get you to do the report. It really does help."

"Mr. Tracker had me enter it that way. He said that's how they did it."

"I know. I'm trying to change it because Mr. Tracker is wrong, and the office has no idea how the repair shop is doing."

"I wouldn't want to know if we're doing badly."

"I don't think you're doing badly, and I think I could get a bigger bonus if I could prove it. Granted, the past few days have been busy, but for the three months before, there were hardly any complaints about the rides. That tells me the shop is keeping up."

"All I know about is the past week. It's been brutal. I've stayed an extra three hours every night."

"I'm sorry about that," I said. "Where has Mr. Tracker been?"

"He's left early. I didn't question him, but it's why I stayed late."

I didn't like Mr. Tracker giving an intern all the work. "Again, thank you. I'll have to speak with Mr. Tracker—"

Bang! Bang!

Both Spencer and I raced to the nearby window and looked out. Outside, climbing up Stellar Mountain, was a glowing furry creature the size of an adult. Stellar Mountain's entrance was actually the only part of the ride in the park. Most of it ran down the side of the colony and back to the park.

"An alien," I muttered. "When I was in Acadia City, they were running all around. Why do they follow me?"

"You mean your adventures with Molly of Mars? Were there really aliens after you?"

I wrinkled my nose in frustration. The alien creatures had chased me, sunk their claws into my back, and even bit me in the rear end. I was part of Molly's adventures, too. "You saw me on television, right? In the background?"

"If you say so."

"I was there, and that's an alien."

"That can't be an alien. How did it get to Venus?"

"I've seen weirder things." I tore out of the doorway and sprinted toward the Stellar Mountain ride.

"Wait!" Spencer said, chasing after me.

I kept my eye on the creature as it moved around the rungs of the rollercoaster's tracks. Several clinks and clangs sounded every time the creature jumped from one track to another.

I dialed the emergency services for Venusville and told them to come right away. I found the alien's glowing fur creepy, and as the scene played out, I felt vulnerable. I started to realize I had no defense against it. But my drive to protect the park overrode my good sense. I shrugged off running away several times.

"Get down from there!" I screamed at it.

It paused and turned toward me. Its green eyes glowed and flared.

"I think you upset it," Spencer muttered.

"Perhaps," I said.

From high above, the creature seemed to jump through the ride and landed directly in front of us. Spencer backed away, but I held firm. I didn't know what I was going to do when the creature attacked, but I'd protect the park.

"Are you crazy?" Spencer reached out and yanked me to the side.

The creature jumped over us. I ducked and fell onto Spencer, my elbow in his chest, and our legs tangled. He groaned.

I spun around to see the creature lurching back toward us. I pulled Spencer up, and we ran into the Haunted House across the path from Stellar Mountain.

Inside the Haunted House, the cackles and screams of the monsters didn't exactly give me any clues to the creature's whereabouts. We hurried through the undead section without any trouble, but when we entered the aliens and space monsters section, we slowed down to catch our breath.

"Do you see it?" Spencer asked, still breathing hard.

"No. Why's the ride going?"

"Maintenance cycle . . . getting the oil worked into it."

"Unlucky for us . . . It's like a thousand creatures chasing us."

"Yeah, why did you try to fight that thing? We could've waited for the cops."

"I didn't exactly try to fight it, but it was attacking my park. I thought I should stop it."

"But the authorities are coming. They can handle it."

"I've learned cops can be slow in moving. Molly of Mars taught me that one."

"Oh, you mean her victory over the Syndicate. It was all over the news."

"Yeah," I muttered, "her victory was."

"So you knew her?"

She was my best friend, but telling him that wouldn't help me get out of Molly's shadow. "She goes to my school. I'm from Acadia City, too."

Something roared. I almost ignored it as part of the ride, but Spencer dashed away. I started to chase after him, but the door closed in front of me, a trick of the ride.

From the side, I caught a glimpse of the creature swatting at me. I dove to the left. It grabbed my jacket, and I managed to twist my shoulders to release my arms. I fell backward and rolled under an oversized raccoon creature.

The real alien jumped from side to side in a weird pattern. I didn't understand what it was doing. I waited for it to jump to the right. Moving to my left, I ran down a hallway into the ghost section.

It followed behind me. Its panting breaths tickled my ear, and its claws dragged along the wall. It roared. I stumbled at the thought of it ripping the skin off my back. I bounced off an air-filled ghost and fell to the ground.

Something came at me. I rolled to protect myself, holding my arms up.

"Miss Valentine!" That sounded like Dextra Devereaux's voice.

"Get away!" I screamed. "It's coming."

"Miss Valentine," a deeper voice said. "You called in an emergency."

I stopped my flails. A police officer helped me to my feet. "There was an alien creature chasing us. I tried to stop it, but I couldn't."

"Alien?" the officer said.

"Yes. Ask Spencer. He saw it."

"He said there was an intruder, and a person chased you."

"It was an alien," I said. "Tell them, Spencer."

Spencer shook his head no. "We saw an intruder. He was about six feet tall, but we didn't see his face. He had a mask on."

I was angry with Spencer. I didn't understand why he wasn't telling the truth. The alien creature was so obvious, and it wasn't as if it could be mistaken for something else. It glowed. People didn't glow unless they grew up near one of the old Earth nuclear plants.

The police officer took down our statements. Dextra returned to the park and made sure everything else was secure. The park was empty.

I didn't say another word to Spencer as my anger toward him continued to burn inside me. He tried to explain that he'd lied because he wanted to protect his scholarship, but I felt betrayed and unmoved by his perceived problem. The story would get back to the staff, and they'd have another reason to make fun of me.

Chapter 6

Tricky Vicky's Strict Vick Problem

I leaned back at the dinner table in our hotel suite. "I'm telling you, Roxy, I saw an alien creature."

"But how?" She massaged her neck, as if trying to rub out her doubt. "Where would it come from?"

"I don't know. Maybe Spencer was right. If word of an alien creature got out, the park's attendance would nose-dive."

"The truth is usually the best policy," she said. "Like our complaint numbers. They've been high, but attendance is stable."

"Not for long," I said. "Complaints have a way of getting around. I have to figure out where that creature came from."

"The one place that has animals is the Venusville Zoo, but they only have Earth animals."

"So they say," I muttered. "I don't know how they stay in business. Their attendance numbers have been lousy for three years in a row."

"And if they had alien creatures," Roxanne said, "they'd get shut down in a second."

A knock came at the door. We weren't expecting anyone. "Whitney?" I asked.

She pushed at the door, but it didn't move. "Open up. I'm not one of your workers ready to revolt."

"I have the lock attached. One sec."

I unlatched the door, and she raced into the suite. "What did it look like? Was it crazy? Did it hurt you?"

"Did what hurt me?"

"The alien creature," Whitney said. "The one you saw in the park."

"What makes you think I saw an alien creature?"

"Spencer."

I ran my hands through my hair, wishing I had told Spencer to keep quiet around the staff. "I suppose the entire staff thinks I'm crazy."

"No, just Spencer and me . . . I mean, he only told me. He's freaked out and had to tell someone."

I crossed my arms. "He didn't seem so freaked out when he lied to the police."

"He really needs that scholarship. His family is . . . well, he doesn't have a rich uncle like me to tour the solar system on internships."

"His family is what?"

"Don't worry about that. He isn't rich."

"Tell me, Whit. What's he hiding?"

"His father . . . you don't need to know."

"Whit, I swear, I'll punch you in the nose."

"Did you learn that from Molly of Mars? She has a reputation for having a violent mouth."

"I'm sorry. Tell me about his family."

"His father is in the mob. Actually, his father is the mob. The godfather. The don. The head of it."

"What?" I was outraged that our employment division had let him into the park. But he's so darn cute.

"He wants to escape it," Whitney continued. "He needs the money to go to a Martian college."

"That's fine," I said, playing down my fears. "I thought he murdered his parents or something."

"No," she said. "And why would he tell me that? Tell me about the alien."

I shook off my thoughts of Spencer and turned to my other problem. "It looked like a person, and it was glowing blue. It had long claws. I really didn't see much out the back of my head as I was running."

"Where did it come from? Should we close the park?"

"No, don't even mention that," I rasped. "Ms. Devereaux has security sweeping the park twice. If it's there, they'll find it."

"And if it isn't there, who's going to find it?" Whitney asked. "Maybe if you bring in an alien creature, it'll win over the staff."

"Valentine Entertainment doesn't grandstand, especially with alien tech. I've had enough of aliens anyway. The fascination with them is overrated."

"But hard to resist," Roxanne said. "If there is an alien on Venusville, we can't let it go."

"It isn't our problem," I said. "Our job—or my job, ultimately—is to run Vacationland. I already have enough problems."

"Spencer made it our problem," Whitney said. "He lied so the authorities won't look for it. We have to help."

I moved over to the window overlooking the yellow clouds of Venus. The rain in the distance looked refreshing, yet I knew there was skin-melting acid within it. That was Vacationland now. Molly of Mars wouldn't be able to look at Vacationland without seeing the alien threat. I couldn't either.

"The zoo," I said. "It's next door, and if an animal slipped out, it could easily get to Vacationland."

"The zoo . . . how're we going to get out of work tomorrow to see it?" Whitney asked. "You're the boss, but I'm swamped all day. So is Roxy."

"And so am I. That's why we'll go tonight . . . in twenty minutes."

"It's closed." Whitney eyed me.

Roxanne launched herself across the room and opened her suitcase. "I think I have an extra pair of night shades and stealth jackets."

"I have mine," I said. "Outfit Whitney, if she wants to come."

"Are you two some sort of commando unit?" she asked. "What're those guns?"

"Stun guns . . . and Roxanne and I like to play commandos. You know, like the game Capture the Flag."

"Oh wow," she said. "I saw it once in Acadia City. Molly of Mars was in the game. She and her sister were great."

"Yeah," I said. "She's fantastic."

"This is so exciting." She grabbed a stun gun of her own. "We're all going to feel like we're Molly of Mars or something."

Roxanne and I exchanged knowing looks. We knew how it felt to be on a Molly of Mars adventure. "We can only hope to be as good."

Molly had taught me some bad habits in my years of being her best friend. The one I hated the most was her unalterable position that one had to do right when something was wrong. It was much easier to forget it or let someone else do it. But an alien had run around my park, and I couldn't let it go. If it led to something bigger or if the alien ravaged our guests, I'd never be able to live with myself, and Valentine Entertainment might never recover.

"Tricky Vicky," Whitney said as all three of us scuttled behind the garbage bins on our way to the zoo. "Garbage would be the last place I'd think to come to."

I felt Whitney's hand on my shoulder. "Why does everyone feel the need to rhyme my name?" I asked.

"Don't be such a stick, Vick."

I grumbled, "We share the garbage chute with them. It's the easiest way."

I adjusted my night-vision glasses. The pair looked like sunglasses I wore at the beach, only these packed full display functions. The light blue outlines showed me where everything was, and if I chose the maximum setting, I could see through some objects. People were visible clearly, and I could tell Roxanne from Whitney at a distance. They didn't look like those red or green blobby images in the movies.

"What next?" Whitney asked.

"Shh," I said. "Follow and only say something if it matters."

"Okay, but—"

"Quiet."

I led the way through the rubber drapes cutting off our property from the zoo. We scuttled along the wall, avoiding the automated trash conveyer. Naturally, the garbage room stank worse than an alien creature's corpse, but the farther we moved in, the more the smell lessened.

"Wait, wait," Whitney said in the worst imitation of a whisper I'd ever heard.

"Quiet. You're practically yelling."

"Sorry," she said. "My heart is pounding. Won't the heat sensors see us?"

"Remember, we have the stealth jackets and pants on," Roxanne said. "They'll cover us. We know what we're doing."

"Whitney," I said, "trust us. We've done this before."

She nodded, but I was nervous about how she'd react to any trouble that came along. I cracked open the door to the zoo and jumped backward when I found a pair of eyes fastened on me.

"Ouch! Get off my toes," Whitney said. She pushed me forward.

"Sorry," I muttered. "I got scared."

I opened the door more slowly this time. A koala bear sat in the tree next to the door. I waved at it as we ran along the grounds toward the center of the zoo. The zoo itself wasn't that big, but it had a complex system of pathways to make the guests think it was bigger.

Roxanne stopped us when we came to a major intersection. I saw that she was unraveling a map of the zoo.

"I grabbed this next to the tiger exhibit," she said.

"What's that going to tell us?" Whitney asked.

"No questions . . . just what matters," I said again. "We'll be able to find buildings in this maze of trees and animal signatures."

The animals were a problem for the night-vision glasses. When I looked out over the park, I could see several of them highlighted, which made it difficult to detect the guards.

Roxanne tapped on the paper. "I think I have some prospects. Two buildings are under construction."

"So?" Whitney replied.

"Whit," I said, "it could be a cover. A disguise."

"Cover? For what?"

"Trade secrets. Our parks put rides on maintenance, but really, we're developing a new ride. It helps with the surprise, and our competitors can't steal the idea."

"So they're developing a new—"

"Shh," I said, hearing something behind us. We ran around the nearby cages and pushed out of view from the main intersection.

I moved close to Whitney as footsteps approached. My heart started to race, and I wondered about her. I grabbed her hand, squeezing hard. "Scream and I'll punch you in the face."

Her eyes were as big as plates. "Um-hum."

Coming from the main entrance of the zoo, a group of what looked like guests walked at a leisurely pace. I didn't understand it, since the zoo had closed four hours ago.

In the cage beside us, a lion rustled, scratching at the shield. I pushed farther down to get out of its vision, but it was persistent and continued to paw.

"Get away," I whispered. "Good kitty."

The group made it to the main intersection. It consisted of about ten people, with three guards and a park ranger. I could tell by the uniforms. I took a deep breath and wished the lion away.

The big cat failed to cooperate. It roared loudly.

"Daddy!" a young boy shouted. "Is that one of the—"

"No," his father rasped. "That's just a lion. You saw that earlier."

"I wonder why he's worked up," the ranger said as he walked toward us. "He's usually quiet after his dinner."

We're done, I thought. I tensed in fear.

"Hey, you!" the man shouted.

I cringed, ready to take responsibility.

"She's running that way," a guard called. "Let's get her."

Whitney was still beside me, but where was Roxy? I looked over my shoulder to see her sprinting in the opposite direction, away from the group and us. Two guards peeled off to chase her. The other ushered the guests in the same direction they were headed.

The ranger stuck around for a few moments. He paced nervously, and I did my best to hold my breath.

"Roger," he radioed. "We've got an intruder. Call the police, but ask for Officer . . ."

He turned away, and I never heard the name. He didn't say anything more and started toward us. I gripped my stun gun in case I'd need it.

"Ranger Morgan!" One of the original guards who had chased after Roxanne came running back. "The intruder . . . just disappeared."

"Disappeared?" the ranger said. "You guys are so incompetent."

"Listen," the guard replied hotly, "she never made it to the building, so nothing was taken or seen."

"She? You sure it was a she?"

"She was small, so we assumed that."

"Find out for sure. Sweep for DNA."

"We told you to add laser sweeps to the park."

"Laser sweeps in a park full of animals?" The ranger scoffed. "Impossible to configure. I'm going back to the group. Check everything. If anyone finds out about . . . everyone is going to Io's prison."

"I get it."

They didn't say anything else and jogged away from one another. I checked in every direction and saw no one. The lion lay against the shield. Apparently he was satisfied he'd caused enough trouble for us.

"Come on." I grabbed Whitney's hand and pulled her toward the direction the group had come from.

"You still want to go?" Whitney resisted. "No way."

"Scaredy-cat. Roxanne risked herself for our success. Show some backbone."

"I'm not here to do something dumb," Whitney said. "It was fun until now."

"You wanted a Molly of Mars adventure. This is how she does it. No fun. Only gut checks. Come on."

Whitney's face was white with worry. I didn't blame her. I probably had the same face the first time Molly and I tangled with an alien creature. This is how she did it. This is how I'd do it, because for Molly, it always worked.

I yanked Whitney again, and she followed me. We ran down the pathway and found the guests at the far end of the zoo. They filed into a mushroom-shaped building. The main door closed behind them, leaving the noises of the zoo in the air.

I could hear my breathing and my heart pounding. I didn't really have a plan at this point. I wanted to prove there were aliens here, but how? Seeing them wouldn't be enough. I needed something more.

"We need to get to the roof," I whispered.

"What? Fly up? Like some eagle?"

"It's low enough," I said. "And maybe I will fly like an eagle."

"Unless you have hollow bones, you aren't flying. Those big birds are really light, you know."

"I wasn't serious."

"Someone's coming!" Whitney pushed me forward.

I ran toward the building. The roof was low-hanging because of the mushroom shape. I jumped on top of an electrical box and hurled myself onto the roof. Whitney pushed my backside the rest of the way up. Turning around on the roof, I grabbed her hand as she pushed her feet up. We scrambled to the top and hid behind an air-conditioning junction.

"Close call," I whispered. "Thanks for the push."

"I've touched worse," she replied. "I'm glad you didn't let me freeze. This is so exciting. I understand the rush you like so much."

"You aren't the first to be cautious." I flipped up my glasses and scanned the area around us. The building sat against a huge wall with several cages in front and to the side. Behind was a huge window. Without my glasses, Venus's nighttime created an eerie yellow glow.

I flipped up several grates, but each didn't let me see anything inside the building. Whatever was in there, it was important to keep secret.

"I hear something," Whitney said.

"It's the baboons."

"With boots?"

"What?" I tapped my night glasses down again. Four or five guards hurried to our location, and instantly, I understood our mistake. "We triggered a pressure sensor on the roof. Stupid me."

"Let's get into the building, then," Whitney said. "Before they come."

"No," I replied. "This time we run. We've lost this round."

"We came all this way—"

"Don't. Sometimes it's best to go back. We might not even escape this part. If I'm caught, I'll be kicked out of the park for sure."

"Really?"

"I'm head of the rival park. This won't look good for me."

"Let's go, then!"

I slid down the far side of the building and dropped to the ground. I turned to catch Whitney, but she wasn't there. I jumped up several times, but I couldn't see her. "Whit," I whispered tightly, but she didn't reply.

"We got her," a guard yelled from the front.

I hurried to the front and slid behind the electrical box. A guard held Whitney's hands behind her back as several others crowded around her.

"You got me," Whitney said, flipping her hair back defiantly. "Time to take me to the police."

A member of the Venusville police force walked up to her. I recognized the uniform from earlier, but this time the officer was different. "Intruders at the Venusville Zoo don't get off so easily. Maybe we'll feed you to one of the lions."

"Don't threaten me," she said. "I have rights, and police harassment will be reported."

"Who would believe you?" the police officer asked. "The chimps over there? Or the hyenas? They're already laughing at you."

Whitney fought against the restraints. "Plenty of people are around. These workers, for example."

The guards laughed at her. They knew the workers wouldn't talk to anyone. But I would. I gripped my stun gun hard in my holster. If they tried to hurt Whitney, I'd act harshly.

The police officer removed an electricstick from his belt. He snapped the long baton with a cattle prod tip on and off. The blue electrical charge jumped back and forth from the double tip. Whitney's face was awash with terror, and I didn't blame her. Even if I attacked, we'd be dead within moments. The officer would have a working gun.

He pulled the stick back, and the guards pushed Whitney forward as if she was some sort of sacrificial lamb. I pulled my stun gun out.

Suddenly, from the side, a boy raced out of the building, screaming. He hurried into the group and stopped. "The monster almost got me! I'm not going back in there."

The police officer put the stick behind his back. I recessed into the shadows again as the parents of the child came out the door. It didn't look good for Whitney if these people had paid to see something illegal.

"It was only a Martian llama. It has red fur." The dad grabbed the kid and pushed him back into the building.

I stayed, ready to strike.

A guard shoved Whitney forward again, but the police officer grabbed her under the arm and started to lead her away.

"Hey!" the guard said. "She was snooping around here."

"And the guests saw her. If she goes missing, it's on us. I can't kill the paying customer, nor can I trust the people."

"But you're a cop."

"Don't tell me my business. This would involve Martian security from Mars. We can't explain anything away if that family talks."

I felt sick to my stomach. Whitney had turned herself in to save me. I wanted to take the fall with her, but it didn't make sense. I hoped she would be okay. I waited five minutes, slipped out the back of the building, and exited the park without any problems.

I made sure I saw Whitney led down the corridor on her way to the police station before I abandoned the chase and headed to our safe spot. The night had meant double trouble for me. First, a creature attacked me in my park, and then our hasty foray into the zoo blew up in my face. Maybe I wasn't cut out to run a park or be Vicky of Venus. Maybe Molly did deserve all the credit.
Chapter 7

Really, Truly, I'm Sorry, but I Can't

An hour after the disastrous zoo venture, I found Roxanne at the coffee shop where we had agreed to meet. She was already sipping a cup and had two ready for Whitney and me to drink when we arrived. Only I came back empty-handed and a nervous wreck.

I sat down like a sack of potatoes hitting the ground. "Whitney turned herself in."

"She got scared?" Roxanne said. "She'll tell on us."

"I don't think so. She did it so I could escape. She'll keep quiet."

"I got out pretty easily. Those guards never thought to look in the garbage room."

"That's good," I murmured, fully lost in my thoughts. The image of Whitney's terrified face was seared into my brain. I was exhausted, too. It was nearly midnight. "I never saw any alien creatures, but someone mentioned a red llama. I'm not sure what that means."

"From Mars," Roxanne said. "Back in the old days, farmers genetically altered the llamas with red fur so poachers wouldn't be able to see the llamas against the landscape."

"I guess they're rare now. I've never seen one."

"Yeah." Roxanne nodded. "I always thought it was made-up. Why not use heat sensors?"

"I don't understand Whit—"

A chime came from my phone. It was Dextra Devereaux.

"Hello, Ms. Devereaux."

"Did I wake you?" she asked.

"No," I replied. "Roxanne and I couldn't sleep, so we—"

"One of our employees, Whitney Phavors, confessed to the break-in at our park, and she was caught inside the zoo next door. I've fired her. I'll leave the failure notice for you to send to her school."

"Don't you think you're being harsh?" I said. "She's just a teenager."

"She attacked you. And if we keep her, the zoo will think we were spying on them. It doesn't look good for Vacationland as it is."

Dextra was correct. If Whitney wasn't fired, it could mean scandal for my family's company. The correct business thing to do was terminate her. I couldn't argue anymore or I'd risk implicating Roxanne and myself. "Very well. I'll find a replacement for her."

"I'll see you in the morning."

I hung up my phone. "Let's get back to the hotel. I'm going to send Whitney a message because I can't hire her back. She's going to be so angry with me."

"Can't we get an exemption for her?" Roxanne asked. "Maybe send her to another park?"

I felt terrible. "I can't. If she's on payroll, Venusville Zoo will scream spying, and the media will crush the company."

"She saved you."

My stomach felt like a lead balloon. "I can't."

"Vicky, she saved you."

"Damn it, Roxy, I know, but I can't! Stop saying it."

"Not saying it doesn't make it untrue."

"I don't want to hear it."

Roxanne didn't say anything further, and my ruffled body language wasn't inviting in the least. I hated what I had to do, but Whitney had left me no choice. I sent her a message to meet me at the hotel suite. Maybe if she understood . . . and I thought she already did. She sacrificed herself knowing the result could be termination.

When Roxanne and I returned to the hotel, we found Whitney sitting against the door of our suite. She looked horrible, her face sad and tired. Any trace of makeup had long since faded away. Pimples spotted her chin.

"I was fired," she said. "Dextra was quick about it."

"I know," I replied, opening the door and ushering her inside. "It's unfortunate."

"Well," she continued, "you can get me my job back, right? Just straighten it out in the morning."

I paused. Roxanne didn't say anything to help me. She headed into the bathroom and closed the door. Thanks, I thought sarcastically.

Desperation covered Whitney's face. "Just make a call and get my job back."

"Whitney, your job is gone. I can't do anything to get it back for you. The company can't be suspected of spying on rivals."

"So you're not going to do anything?" She seethed. "I risked myself because you're the head of the park. I thought you could protect me."

"I tried, but Dextra's right. I can't explain it away. What's the price of the fine? I'll pay it."

"I got it reduced to a warning. They threatened me. And look under my arms. Those fingerprint bruises aren't from ballroom dancing. They roughed me up to get their point across."

"We'll file a complaint, then."

"File a complaint against those jerks? I'd be a dummy to ever try it."

"A warning is good," I countered, desperate to find something positive. "It'll drop off your record in a few days so other employers can hire you."

"Seriously, you aren't going to get me my job back? I want to be on Venusville."

"I tried. Dextra made points I couldn't refute, and you knew what you were risking when you did it."

She was beside herself. "So it's my fault for trusting you. I thought the spoiled princess had some pull, but apparently the jesters rule the kingdom."

My shaky confidence resurfaced with her insult. I should be able to get her job back, but it was a bad idea for everyone . . . except Whitney. "I didn't ask you to do it."

"I thought we were friends. You laid on this guilt trip about getting caught."

"I was just saying, not asking."

"It sounded like a request to me."

"Really, truly, I'm sorry, but I can't. Are you going to tell on us?"

"No." She snapped her words angrily. "I'm not a cow, like you. I should, though. You're such a spoiled, rich, snobby, stinky, rude . . . Oh, I want to use worse words!"

She made for the door, but I cut her off. "I can't let you leave. You have nowhere to stay."

"I'm not going to stay here. I'd rather sleep next to the lion than you."

"Whitney, don't be unreasonable. Give me a few days. Maybe I can work something out."

"You can't. I know how you think, and you've already made up your mind about my job. You're probably going to send my failure notice in first thing, too."

"I have been assigned to send it, but if you can get another job, I can just transfer it. No one would know."

"Shuffle your problem to another company? Thanks again."

I put my hand on her shoulder as she pushed to leave. It was a mistake. She punched me squarely in the nose, and I crumpled to the floor. My eyes watered immensely, but I didn't pass out. Earth girls could punch harder than I thought.

"Cry on the floor, princess."

She pulled the door open, but I jammed my foot to stop it. "I'm not crying. Just bleeding."

She kicked at my feet. "Move those stumps."

The coppery taste of blood made this fight very real, but I didn't want her to leave. I had to do something to make it up to her. "Take my bed. I'll sleep on the floor." I called to Roxanne to help me.

Whitney pulled on the door again while kicking my leg. "Move those meaty rump roasts of yours."

"Please stay. I owe you, but what you ask is impossible for everyone. Stay here. It'll cost you nothing, and I can't tell you how much what you did means to me."

"You didn't tell on us," Roxanne said from the door of the bathroom. "I'm an orphan, and if I was caught, maybe I'd never get another internship again. Thank you, Whitney, for covering for the both of us."

Whitney loosened her grip on the door and closed it. "Can't take a left hook, Valentine?"

I got to my feet with my hand over my gushing nose. "I thought you were a righty."

Roxanne handed me a towel. "I don't like Vicky's choice either, but she has bigger responsibilities than us."

"I understand . . . sorta," Whitney said. "I didn't expect it. I thought I had it planned out, but they pinned the Vacationland intrusion on me. I had to accept it or else. 'Or else' scared the crud out of me."

"Something is happening at the zoo," I said. "If Whitney was told to take the rap for something she didn't do, they already know who it was—or I should say what it was."

They nodded, and we sat in silence for a long time.

I didn't know if Whitney had forgiven me, but she slept in my bed that night. As promised, I curled up on couch cushions on the floor and had perhaps the worst night of sleep ever. Luckily, it was short. When the alarm rang at six, no amount of coffee could fully wake me up.

Roxanne and I strolled into the park later that morning like zombies.

"I don't think she will, but do you think she'll steal our stuff?" Roxanne said as we arrived at our desks in the park's office.

"Maybe," I replied. "If she doesn't, she's forgiven us. If she does, at least I can send the failure notice with a clear conscience."

"So cold and calculated, Miss Valentine."

"Miss Larson, in this business, sometimes I have to be." I hated it. Really, I did.
Chapter 8

Financial Nonsense with a Side of Sabotage

Roxanne and I looked at the financial numbers from the past week at the park. They were easy enough to read, but they made no sense to us. The computer couldn't be wrong. Our total expenses almost equaled the total park cash earned. Our profit was just enough to keep us open, as it always was at Vacationland.

"How can you read any of these reports?" Roxanne asked.

"It's sorta like a video game," I said. "Only no graphics. Just graphs. When you play a video game, you have information on the screen, like points, health, magic levels, ammo, number of lives, maps, enemy counts, etc. Well, if you had never played the game before, you'd be lost until you found out what it meant. Finances are the same. If you know what a number means, it's like reading the screen on a video game. You can make your moves accordingly."

"So what does this report say?"

"I've adjusted the numbers twenty times," I said. "Even if we get more guests or fewer guests, the profit is always the same."

"Shouldn't the profit go up if we get more guests?" Roxanne asked. "Like killing more bad guys gives you more points?"

"Yes. The total park expenses are roughly constant looking at the inventory and payroll. But at Vacationland, it follows our guest count."

"Makes sense," Roxanne tapped on the datapad. "More guests mean more plates, more prizes to award, etc."

"Not like this. The money is tracking wrong. I'll have to review everything for the past year to figure it out. Another long night for me."

Roxanne fingered the reports. "I can't get past understanding the simple pages, as you call them."

"Yeah. The simple pages are usually enough. Money in. Money out. Whatever is bigger determines if we eat tonight. Something is wrong at Vacationland."

"Nothing is wrong at Vacationland," a rough-looking man said from the doorway. "It's been running good for years now."

"Mr. Tracker," I said. "I'm glad you could see me. Have a seat."

"No, thanks," he said. "I'll stand."

"Very well." I rose to my feet and straightened my purple jacket. "I've noticed you leaving the park early the past few days. Care to explain it?"

"My intern said he wanted extra responsibility. I believe in learning in the fire, not beside it."

"You might get this park burned down," I replied. "Interns shouldn't be working overtime without their work leaders present. For safety reasons. I hope you understand that."

"Is Spencer complaining?"

"No. I noticed it, and I wanted to cut it off before he started to complain."

"Well, he told me about your run-in last night. He's spooked, so I guess I can stick around longer today. Are you okay?"

"Fine, thank you." I tapped my name tag. "Make sure you wear your badge around the park. I don't want security to do extra work tracking you down only to find out you're an employee."

"Strict," he mumbled. "I see the nickname meets the reputation."

"What was that?" I said sternly, though I had heard him.

Just then, Mr. Tracker's radio crackled, and it was a panicked Spencer. "Mr. Tracker, get to Stellar Mountain fast! The ride broke. We have injuries, and I don't know what to do!"

"Keep calm," he said. "I'm coming."

"So are we," I said, dashing around the desk and out the building at a full jog. I radioed for medical help, but they were already on their way. I didn't need another disaster, and "injuries" was almost the worst word you could hear at a theme park.

Roxanne and I walked at a brisk pace toward Stellar Mountain. Mr. Tracker was a little smarter and whizzed past us on a hovercart without stopping to give us a ride. My Strict Vick persona was at work again.

"First the employees revolt against my changes," I said, "then an alien creature attacks the park, then the financials aren't working so we can never make bigger profit, and finally, Stellar Mountain breaks. It's like someone doesn't want me to succeed."

"Do you really think this is about you?" Roxanne asked.

"What else?" I said, but my ego wasn't that big. "No, it's just bad luck. We need to fix it."

We hopped the fence into the Stellar Mountain ride area. The structure holding up the start of the ride where the alien creature had been jumping around was on the ground with the cars to the roller coaster. The injuries turned out to be bruises and one broken arm. The medical regenerators fixed the guests, and everyone signed an acknowledgement of treatment form. I was happy with the results.

But I wasn't happy about the track falling. It would close Stellar Mountain for a few weeks, and this would crush our attendance. If we couldn't drop guests to the bottom of Venusville at two hundred miles an hour, they'd have no reason to come.

I picked through the wreckage, looking for some clue that would tell me how it had happened. I really didn't know how the alien creature had sabotaged it, but it had showed skill. There were no obvious signs of missing parts. I did remember the clinging and clanging as it jumped around. I had assumed it was the alien's claws hitting the metal supports. Perhaps not.

I knelt by a pile of wreckage, but I didn't see much other than twisted metal. I moved to three more piles before I found something different.

Most of the bolts were bent and twisted, but I found one with a clean cut along it. I fingered the heavy nut. It had no sharp, torn edges. Under one of the pieces of metal, I saw something even more unusual—a tuft of the creature's blue fur. It was course and definitely the same color.

"Inspectors have already found the fault points," Dextra said from behind me. "It was poor maintenance."

"The maintenance reports are spotless," I said with my back still to her.

"Mr. Tracker said the same thing. We'll have to see if the metal has been scanned using the data in our archives."

I stuffed the nut and the fur sample into my pocket without her seeing. I could probably prove it was sabotage to get Mr. Tracker off the hook. That plan was good for the park because it would eliminate any lability in case of a lawsuit.

Whitney's admission would loom large. Only last night she had admitted to chasing us. Both Spencer and I said the intruder was on Stellar Mountain, so she'd receive blame for the wreck. I turned to Dextra.

"How long until the report is back so we know?"

"Four or five days."

"And if the scanner data tells us he did the maintenance tests?"

"It'll get him off the hook, and it will prove sabotage."

"How did the inspector diagnose this so quickly?"

"Ride sensors are sent to the government offices. The computer had the crash simulation up before the guests hit the ground."

"To his office?"

"Yes. Inspector Samuel is from Martian Command. He wouldn't lie to us."

"Really?" I said. "It's just surprising. I thought those sensors were private."

"Miss Valentine, you're new here, but Venusville is like a small colony. We know and respect each other. Not everything is a Martian conspiracy, so we send the data at their request."

I waved my hand in agreement. "Yes. I'm just so frustrated we can't get the park running more smoothly. No Stellar Mountain will cripple us."

Dextra nodded. "It's not fun for anyone to have injuries. Let's do a two-for-one promotion and make the money back by upping soda and pizza prices."

"Whatever you think," I said, not entirely confident about the plan. My mind drifted from getting the park running smoothly to what in the world was happening here. Whitney, even if she hated me, was in trouble. In four or five days, when the data came back, the locals would slap Whitney with more than a warning. She'd be in prison for the next five years for sabotaging Stellar Mountain.
Chapter 9

If You Never Ask Questions,

You Never Get Answers You Don't Want

Almost immediately after my talk with Dextra, Roxanne and I headed to the spaceport to welcome the shuttles to Vacationland. The news of Stellar Mountain had found its way into the pilot's announcement on arrival, so Dextra assigned me to damage control. I readily accepted.

The majority of guests enjoyed Dextra's two-for-one tickets, but getting the disappointment of others to turn around was next to impossible. I hoped they'd change their minds when they compared prices with the other parks and zoos on Venusville.

Roxanne and I sat at the terminal, waiting for the next flight to arrive. It was the last of the day, so in a weird way, I was actually looking forward to it even if the guests were going to yell at us again.

"Five hundred free tickets," Roxanne said. "What a waste for us."

"If everyone drinks twenty sodas, maybe we can make it back. Or buys double the souvenirs."

"Or five hundred pizzas."

"Hmm," I said. "It doesn't matter anyway. The financials will still show a dribble of profit with or without these coupons. Remember how they're wrong?"

"How do you know? I don't see it."

"Special software," I said. "VIPs only."

"So you hacked the video game to see more than the other players."

"Huh? Oh yeah. Only executives have it. My mom and the board members can use it to see if someone made a mistake. The profits or points are steady. The health bar of the company, money in and money out, is steady. And our map is clouded like those Splendid Murrio games. We need to search more to clear the map."

"So who's the end boss?"

"My mother." We both laughed, but it didn't remove my uneasiness. "The software is neat. Like I put in guesses, and it shows whether we would have made money if we had fifteen or thirty employees. Different situations. We don't let everyone have it, or people would point fingers."

"How did you get it, then?"

"I begged my dad. I use his account."

"Is that company policy, Miss Valen-by-the-book-tine?" Roxanne kidded me.

"I understand what you're saying. I only have to answer to my mom, though. It helps my learning, and I guess it would be cheating when it comes to my grade, but that's mostly the opinion of my mom. She's unfair, so I play unfair."

Roxanne smiled cautiously at me. "If it helps us figure out the weirdness around here, I'm happy with it."

I regarded her with some sympathy. "You don't like how I do business, do you?"

She rubbed the back of her neck. "You do what you have to do."

"Roxy, please tell me the truth. I know you're honest, so just tell me. I won't hold it against you."

"To me, it seems as if you look at the employees like you look at the spreadsheets. The employee ID on their uniform isn't anonymous. They're people."

"I understand your point. That's the tricky part of business. Everyone wants the executives and managers to look at the employee, but if I do that, it hurts every employee. Sometimes a hard decision must be made to save jobs or to save them in the future."

"Isn't there a compromise?"

"That's the compromise," I said. "You save ten employees to the detriment of one. And I'm not just talking about firings. It's everything in the business. If we aren't making money, we're losing employees. It's just how business works."

"I wish you could do both. In hard times, that's when employees need you the most."

"I'm afraid that's when executives are at their coldest. Saving money to come out of it is important to all employees. I've seen angry ex-employees outside my house. It's tough."

"I don't get it, but I don't have to."

"You will. I promise. And you're right. Sometimes executives are greedy and sacrifice employees so other rich people will become richer. It gives business a bad name."

Roxanne and I didn't talk for a long few minutes, and I knew she was trying to process what I'd just told her. Business was cold sometimes. It was the nature of the beast, and I hoped she would learn that lesson one day.

On the other side of the spaceport, I saw a familiar face and mumbled a curse under my breath.

"I lost the bet," Roxanne muttered, breaking the silence.

"What bet?"

"About Whitney." She pointed to a gate across the terminal. Whitney was boarding a shuttle with several bags. Two of them were ours.

"Disappointing," I said. "She's in more danger if she leaves. I'll go talk to her."

I hurried over to the terminal, showed my ID badge to the gate attendant, and told her to bring security to the gate. She told me the flight wouldn't take off until I returned. I thanked her and entered the shuttle.

Whitney sat toward the back of the plane with a hat over her face, apparently sleeping.

I tapped her leg.

"I'm here," she said. "Find another seat."

I tapped her again.

"Go away."

I sat down beside her. "You shouldn't use a Valentine Entertainment shuttle to escape with our stuff. I have access to them."

Whitney jumped, but she didn't try to run. She had nowhere to go. "I didn't know. I thought I could make the flight cost back with your stuff."

"Roxanne's stuff, too. That's low."

"Sometimes I'm a criminal."

"Sometimes? What about the rich uncle?"

"He doesn't exist, and you deserved it."

"I guess, but there is a conspiracy against you. I figured it out, so you need my help."

"Against me?"

"Yes. Stellar Mountain was sabotaged, and when the maintenance data returns, you'll be the prime suspect and will probably be convicted, considering the police officer in charge and your admission."

"Why? I didn't do it."

"You admitted it."

Whitney's face was ashen. "They made me."

"Doesn't matter. The court will see the admission and the result. You'll be toast."

Whitney thought for a moment. Her face turned a shade green, evidence of her growing dread. "You gotta help me."

"That's my plan, but I need you to forgive me."

"Forgiveness. I can do that if it means I get off."

"Real forgiveness. Please understand why I couldn't rehire you."

"I did understand until I saw all the wonderful outfits you had. It got me angry again."

"Why? Because I have taste?"

Whitney looked out the window. "Because you can afford taste and won't do me one favor."

"I wouldn't be in a position to do any favors if I did stupid ones. I really couldn't have you back at the park. It would be impossible even if I called my mom. But I'm willing to try to prove you didn't break into Vacationland. I know it wasn't you."

"How can we prove it?"

"I have a sample of the fur from the alien and a bolt that failed, so we can figure out what happened."

"Really?"

"Yeah. When I realized you were in trouble, I stole it so no one would find it. Come on. We'll go back to the hotel suite and do something fun."

Whitney didn't look directly at me. I wanted her forgiveness. Roxanne was right about one thing: even if I had to be cold and calculating sometimes, I should try to find a solution for everyone.
Chapter 10

The Natives Are Restless

By the time Roxanne and I dropped Whitney off at our hotel suite, it was near the end of the day at the park. I was surprised to see most of the interns at my office door waiting for my return.

"We were promised we could leave early today for the interns' party," Becky Ballard said accusingly. "How can you take this away from us?"

"I didn't take anything away from you, but with the demerits you've been racking up, maybe I should," I replied. "I didn't even know about the party because you didn't invite me. Miss Larson?"

Roxanne blushed. "Yes. The interns requested an early leave today to get to Kick City Arcades on the other side of the colony, near the loading docks. I set up the time for them."

"All right," I said, swallowing my hurt feelings. "I can understand why you don't want me there, and the park is almost closed. Why aren't you allowed to leave?"

"The managers said you ordered a safety check for the entire park, and we have to watch certain rides."

"Correct, I did order the safety check. But—"

"Because you found out about us not inviting you," Troy Gamble rasped from behind Becky.

Becky had her hands on her hips, attitude in full force. "Jerky move, Strict Vick. The princess is always a bigger cow than the queen."

"Pretty low," Spencer said among a group of other boys. I caught his eye. I was mad at him for not backing up my alien account, but he was still cute. "Miss Valentine, how can you be so cold?"

"Now that my feelings have been completely shattered and stomped on," I replied, "let me remind you that safety checks are run by the night crew. An intern would never be in charge. What were your managers' specific orders?"

"Mr. Tracker told me to stay until nine." Spencer stepped forward. "At some point, the safety crew would come to our assigned ride, and we'd assist them."

That didn't sound correct to me. "Where're your managers now?"

"They left," Becky said. "Mr. Carver said it would be good for me to run things myself for a few hours. Like being—"

"Thrown into the fire. I've been hearing that a lot from the managers lately."

I did see one manager still in the office. It was Mrs. Quinton. "Where's Ms. Devereaux?" I asked her.

Mrs. Quinton was packing her bag to go home for the day and didn't seem to want to engage me. "She's on an errand. She said she would be back to start the safety inspection . . . considering what happened today with Stellar Mountain."

"Where do all the managers go at the end of the day? It seems we're always running the show at closing."

"I'm not sure . . . home . . . the bar . . . wherever."

"Thanks, Mrs. Quinton." But I wasn't convinced. The managers were going somewhere, and I intended to find out what they were doing. She left a short time later, and I returned to the group.

"So, are you going to make us stay?" Becky asked, still in a huff.

"Go," I said. "I can close down the rest of the park. Some of the managers are still here, and the guests have left. We have enough to turn it over to the night crew."

Becky nodded with satisfaction. "Finally, some good out of you."

"Thank you, Miss Valentine," Spencer said.

Everyone seemed to be in a better mood as they departed, and I really did want to join in. I could have used some relaxation after the day I had, but it was clear they'd have more fun without Strict Vick along. Roxanne, ever loyal, stayed behind with me.

"Roxy, go with them. I'll go back to the hotel to stay with Whitney."

"I don't have to."

"Please go," I said. "They might not like me, but they like you. I don't want to be a hindrance. You might need some of them in the future."

"Thanks, Miss Valentine."

Roxanne left, and I was alone in the office.

I started on the financial reports with the odd numbers. I'd been reading financial reports since I was five years old, sitting on my mom's lap, but even I didn't have the expertise to traverse the numbered maze before me.

After an hour of checking and rechecking, I didn't see anything wrong, even when I used the special software. This park ran like clockwork, always making just enough profit to stay open but not enough to make it one of our A-plus parks. I thought I could change it this semester, but no matter what I did, Vacationland seemed destined to be average.

I closed the display screen and sat back. Sadness rippled over me. It bothered me to have no friends on Venusville. Sure, there was Roxanne, but she could easily fit in with the others. Whitney was a wild card because she needed me. And the other interns flat out hated me. They hated me because I stubbornly held to my company's policies and principles.

I couldn't blame them, though. I was handing out demerits like candy to a kid on Halloween. My mother had taught me that was how you kept employees in line.

I let out a long breath. I knew I was right about the way I wanted to run the park. We had talent in the correct positions. The managers showed me that when they left the interns alone in the park. They had confidence. The attendance was steady, and our efforts to keep customers despite the setbacks were working. But something was holding the park back from making a bigger profit and giving all the interns passing grades and big scholarship bonuses.

Everyone was pointing the finger at me. Strict Vick was making the mistakes. Only I wasn't. The answer seemed on the tip of my fingers, but I couldn't quite come up with it. It was in the financials. It had to be.

I jumped into my chair and pulled up the spreadsheets again. I'd figure it out. Only my screen flashed red before I did anything.

A message from my mother appeared.

Vicky,

I'm sorry I can't talk right now. I needed to tell you the numbers from Vacationland have been disturbing for some time, and since you arrived, awful. If a healthy profit isn't made by mid-semester, the bonuses for the interns will have to be assigned on merit and planet of origin. I don't see another way. And if this is the case, your grade for the semester will be no higher than a B. I don't want to be harsh with you, but this is the reality of Vacationland. I gave you the opportunity to pick any park, and you chose the most difficult one in our network. Maybe next time, you'll see things more clearly.

Mother

If the interns wanted cold and calculated, they should spend a day with Mrs. Valentine. Miss Valentine was a cupcake in comparison. I let out a long breath and replied to the mail with only two words: "I understand," and closed the message.

I had requested Vacationland because it was the hardest challenge in the company. It shouldn't have been, but its location was considered undesirable. I didn't agree. One night looking at Venus's lightning clouds would change anyone's mind about the planet.

I stared at the spreadsheets for two minutes before I closed them. I wouldn't figure anything out tonight. My mom had rattled my concentration. Roxanne had warned me about having to make choices for some and excluding the others. If I had to give scholarships on merit and planet of origin, it meant Martian kids would get first dibs because of my mother's policies. Spencer, who needed it the most, would come up empty-handed. And then there was Whitney. If I didn't figure out a way to get the charges against her dropped, she'd be in jail.

I tapped my pocket with the bolt and the fur fragments in it. I could help Whitney tonight. I'd prove an alien creature was on Venusville. That would bring Martian security to Venus. Then the locals couldn't pin it on Whitney.

No one could refute me if I showed alien DNA. I hurried to the repair shop.
Chapter 11

Fur, Really? Think of the Animals

The repair shop didn't seem like the most obvious place to check fur for DNA, but it did have a microscope that checked for microscopic cracks in metal. I could easily use it to look at the fur sample from the creature I had seen and have it run a chemical makeup on it. It would tell me what type of animal it came from.

The park seemed eerily deserted, and I wondered where the cleaning and safety crews were. I checked my watch, and it was ten. Perhaps on the weekend, they came in later, but the interns had said otherwise.

With a quicker step than normal, fearing the dark, creepy park, I hurried along. I ran past the Haunted House and eyed the under-repair Stellar Mountain. Earlier, Dextra had sent me a note saying it would take only two days to repair. The cost was high because of the parts we ordered—or I should say, Mr. Tracker ordered. He sent all of the invoices to me with purchase notifications already cleared. I didn't like him overstepping me on large purchases. After my mother's warning, I needed to be extra careful about what we ordered from this point forward.

I rushed into the repair shop and found it empty. I moved over to the microscope and powered it up. It was a simple device, like most things on Mars. I put the fur fragments under the camera and pressed the Analyze button. It rumbled for a few seconds before it focused on the blue fibers.

It was amazing to see the detail in a single fur strand. I'd never been very good at chemistry, but looking at anything under a microscope was neat. I pressed the What is it? button and waited for the results.

The lights along the computer's side flashed blue and purple as it calculated. Seconds later, it displayed the results. To my surprise, Spencer's lie was actually the truth about the whole thing. The being wasn't an alien, but a man in a costume. The substance was fiberglass, a flexible glass strand. When light shone through it, it would glow.

Someone had sabotaged the park. It wasn't an alien mishap.

"Who would dress up like an ape to hurt Spencer and me?" I muttered. "Someone might do it to scare me, maybe."

That was it. The alien creature the other night should've caught me and torn me apart. Instead, it jumped around wildly and scraped its claws against the walls to scare me. I wasn't in any danger. I didn't know what we were supposed to do or not do because of it. The costumed alien might've wanted us to announce it to make me look bad or announce it to make the park look bad.

"Dang," I said. This wouldn't clear Whitney, in any event.

"Ah!" Someone screamed from outside. I hurried out of the repair shop and found three women standing in the pathway. They were members of the cleaning crew.

"What happened?" I asked.

"Look!" One of them pointed to the top of Stellar Mountain. It was the blue creature from the night before.

"Get down from there," I shouted. "You aren't real. I know the truth now!"

One of the women grabbed my arm to stop me from chasing after it. "It's an alien. Don't."

"No, it isn't. It can't be." I shook off her grasp and sprinted toward Stellar Mountain. I flipped open my radio. "Security, this is Vicky Valentine. Get to the back of the park immediately and protect the cleaning crew. We have an intruder."

"Yes, ma'am," security radioed back.

Using my hands to help, I vaulted over the gate for Stellar Mountain and headed straight into the tubes, following the costumed man. The tube was tight and nerve-racking. The echoes of my footsteps gave away my position, too, so my plan of hunting him down was unworkable. The costumed fool wasn't going to scare me, though.

Carefully, I scuttled down a steep incline of the track. At the bottom, I sprinted when I saw the backside of the glowing costume turn down the next tunnel. The intruder didn't think I would follow him into the tunnels and thus played into my hand. It had no exit. The tunnel was enclosed.

"Come back here!" I shouted. "I know what you're doing, and you won't get away with it."

I didn't hear the costumed intruder. This caused me to slow my steps as the tunnel opened into a larger area. To the right, I could see Venus, and the light pattering of rain created enough of a din that I wouldn't be able to hear anything far off. To the left, the animation of stars and comets ran on continuous loop. I ignored it for the most part, but the flashing lights created tricky shadows around me.

"Why don't you want the park open?" I asked.

No reply. A growing rumble sounded, and I stopped walking instantly. I looked back and forth but saw nothing. I took several more steps, and the rumbling grew louder.

"Oh no!" I said. "The coaster . . ."

A large paw hit me square on the side of my face. My ear pained instantly, but I managed to grab the furry arm. I yanked it hard, which kept me from falling on the track.

The coaster's car swung around the bend and headed straight at us. I kept hold of the beast. If I was going to be hit, so was it.

Just as the coaster came at my legs, I jumped upward. The nose clipped my feet, and I flipped foot over head into the air. I landed hard four or five rows back on the coaster. The blue flash of the creature wedged into the front seat.

The creature muttered some obscenity, further proving that it was a man. I had just turned myself around on the chair when suddenly, the bottom dropped out from under me. I hovered in the air as the coaster dropped several hundred feet. When it finally leveled off, I crashed hard into the seat again. I looked for the safety harness, but again the coaster dropped and twisted. I grabbed the back of the seat in front of me and hung upside down as the coaster ran along the track. It turned over, and my forehead slammed into the metal backing of the seat.

Dazed, I tried to find the creature, but the spots in my eyes made it hard to see the blue glow. He didn't have trouble finding me, however. From behind, which was now the front of the coaster, the creature grabbed my hair and pulled me upward. The pain was stinging and instant. I grabbed at his hand, but it was covered with so much fake fur, I couldn't hurt him.

The creature yanked me harder, but he made a mistake. His foot came over the side of the seat, and I kicked it out from under him. He dropped me as he flipped over the back of the seat. Stupidly, in a panic to escape, I slipped getting over the seat and clipped my chin on the armrest. Blood gushed from my chin, running down into my jacket and shirt. It took me a few moments to shake the paralyzing pain. This fight wasn't supposed to hurt me. I was supposed to hurt him.

As best I could, I ignored the pain and climbed over the seat to get away from the man. He snatched my ankle just as I was about to escape, and I slipped into the foot well of the next car.

That was lucky. The coaster dropped again, this time down the side of Venusville on a straight trip to the bottom.

A blue glow flew past me and exited the coaster. I grabbed the handrails and dug in my feet for the expected sharp turn upward. It was more gradual than I remembered, however, and the coaster almost slowed to a stop. I chanced it and looked back to see if the creature would slam into the coaster. I was disappointed when the blue glow slid to a stop and stood, looking at me.

I felt the urge to jump out and chase it again, but I thought better of it. The coaster charged up for the rocket trip to the top.

Boom! The rocket booster clapped through the tunnel, sending the coaster upward at an incredible speed. I held my grip firm and screamed as the coaster violently shuddered along the track.

The top! I remembered one thing about the trip I should've remembered at the start: the track at the top was missing because of the sabotage. I'd have to—

I didn't even get the chance to think of a plan. The coaster's cars exited the tunnel into Vacationland again, flew over the enclosure, and collided with the Haunted House, throwing me clear of the wreckage. I hit a large umbrella on a hot dog stand and landed firmly on a pile of garbage bags.

I started to get up, but a stinging pain in my leg sent me to the ground. I had injured the same leg with Molly on our last adventure. Fighting the pain, I stumbled to my feet and fell to the ground for a second time.

"Miss Valentine!" Dextra ran up to me with a security guard. "Stay down. A med team is on the way. Why were you riding Stellar Mountain with it closed?"

I glowered at her. "Do you really think I'm that stupid?"
Chapter 12

Vick Doesn't Get Sick

At noon the day after my Stellar Mountain adventure, I limped out of the med center, my leg aching. Roxanne had brought me a bouquet of flowers before work, but I had been asleep, so she left. My only visitor. I was sure the entire park was happy to have a peaceful morning.

"Vicky!" Whitney and Roxanne ran up as I leaned against the wall. "Sit down."

"I'll be fine," I said to reassure them. "My leg is waking up."

"What happened last night?" Whitney asked. "Everyone in the colony is saying that an alien was running around. The cleaning crew is all over the news."

"Great," I muttered. "I guess the park is ruined."

"Are you kidding?" Roxanne said. "As I was leaving, we set the attendance record for the day, and even more are coming in. Everyone wants to spot the alien. Dextra already has T-shirts printed."

"Wow!" I said. "I really thought it would ruin us . . . and me."

"No," Whitney said. "People love aliens."

"No kidding," Roxanne said. "We've already ordered hundreds of dolls, toys, and knickknacks."

"Already?" I pushed off the wall to start for the park. "I can see printing T-shirts on our machine, but why order so many other things?"

Roxanne helped me stabilize my stance. "It's popular. You really need to see the lines."

I didn't like it. "That's not how it works. Too many orders at the park."

"Does anything ever impress you?" Whitney asked. "You're always skeptical."

"I like things to work normally. Vacationland isn't normal. The customer attractions, the policies, the managers . . . That reminds me, Whitney, I need you tonight. Come by the park around five, and I'll give you instructions."

She agreed, and we talked for a little about my adventure before Roxanne and I headed to the park.

Roxanne helped me the entire way to the park. I had to see it for myself. I wasn't disappointed. Her assessment had been correct. It was absolutely packed. Even with Stellar Mountain closed, the complaint line was empty, and everyone was running around looking for the alien that seemed to have a liking for me.

"Miss Valentine," Mr. Tracker said as he came up to the office door and opened it for me, "you shouldn't be here. Dextra told me you had a run-in with the alien."

"I have to make sure the park makes a profit for the interns. It's important for their scholarships."

"These kids? Don't let them give you any sob stories. Every one of them is rich. How else do they get to spend a semester away from home?"

"If you say so," I replied. "Rich kids don't need to work for scholarships. Remember that."

"We had to order new cars for Stellar Mountain," he said. "The ones you flew out with were ruined."

"I understand. Send a request, and I can approve it."

"Already done. Dextra and I filled it out earlier today, and the shipment should be here in a week."

"Great," I said. "Is there something you wanted?"

"Just to see how you were," Mr. Tracker said. "Flipping over roller-coaster cars can't be fun."

"Not really. Neither is flying out of the tunnel. Why was Stellar Mountain active, anyway?"

He didn't reply right away, but my stare was serious enough to get him to speak. "Spencer left the ride running when we were looking for other issues. I told him to shut it down, but sometimes the interns aren't reliable. I'll make sure I check it before I leave."

"Thank you. I'll speak with Spencer about creating priorities and action items."

"If you think that'll help," Mr. Tracker replied. "I'll get out of your way and let you rest."

"Thank you," I said, hobbling into the office. He closed the door behind me.

With a grimace, I sat down. I rubbed the tender spot along the outside of my hip. I'd hurt it a few weeks before when I helped Molly save Acadia City, but it continued to bother me. The roller-coaster mishap sent the pain into overdrive.

I checked my computer screen and saw fifty supply and parts orders from the managers. I set them to the side. They were always ordering, and I suspected today's success created some new orders that I wanted to check over with the customer feedback team.

Interestingly, Dextra had already approved seventy other orders, and I was sure that only her lunch break had stopped her. She was set to return soon. I rubbed my leg again.

"Get some rest . . . blah, blah, blah," Spencer said from the doorway with a hint of sarcasm. "Did you only hear blah, blah, blah?"

"Pretty much," I replied. "I'm too busy to rest. I gotta get things done around here."

"The park is packed. What more can you do?"

"Profit isn't only about the money coming in . . . but also about the money going out. Do you really want to talk shop with me? Or did you need something?"

"I wanted to get out of here early," he said. "Family business. But Mr. Tracker said he's leaving early again. I'd need to shut down ride maintenance completely."

"What time did he say he was leaving?"

"Six."

"What time do you need to go?"

"Around seven."

I needed him to work in the shop. Even if he was an intern, he was the most experienced we had. Then I remembered Roxanne's comment about making others happy. I sent a note for Troy Gamble to come to my office immediately.

He came over in under two minutes from the front desk. "Am I in trouble?" he asked as he walked into the office. "I've only had one complaint today, and that was because the alien didn't show. I can't help that."

"No trouble. You said you wanted to work in the shop. Spend the rest of the day with Spencer, and he'll let you run the show until closing."

"Really," he replied. "What's the catch? Double shifting with customer complaints?"

"None. You wanted it. You got it."

"My manager said she was leaving at six," Troy said. "How can I do both?"

"You can't. Stay in customer complaints, then."

"No, I want to do the repair work."

"I'll put Becky on repair. We don't need a mascot today. Her father was a transport operator, so she'll know a few things."

Troy crossed his arms. "Why did I bother coming over here?"

"Spencer," I said, "let Becky know."

"I don't see why making two people mad is good," he said, "when you could make two people happy."

"I'm not here to make popular decisions. It's best for business."

"Whatever," Spencer replied. "You'll find . . . never mind." Troy and Spencer left the office a short time later.

I rubbed my leg again. The pain was bothering me, and the boys' complaining about my decisions wasn't helping. I pushed my discomfort aside. The managers were leaving early again, and I planned to go with Whitney to figure out what they were doing. "Roxanne," I called. "Can you get me two things?"

"Sure, Miss Valentine." Roxanne hopped up to the door.

"A glass of water for these pills and a black-haired wig from the entertainment department."

"A wig?"

"I'll need it for later. I'll spare you coming with us because I'll need you at the park. Is that okay?"

"No problem," she said. "I enjoyed handling the park earlier today."

"Great. At least you're happy."

"You could've let Troy in the repair shop."

"I wanted to show Troy that my decision was correct."

"You might turn off Spencer."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, but I thought maybe you'd send a repair order to Spencer for your leg. Maybe a little massage. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Roxy, that isn't office appropriate." But as I thought about it, I realized Spencer had a certain charm about him, and I did have a bit of a crush on him. "He's an employee."

"Don't tell me you denied Troy because of business. You wanted to annoy Spencer by playing hard to get."

I let out a long sigh. "Maybe a little. Why do I always go after the ones I can't have? First, Aiden. To this day I can't look at him without his eyes hypnotizing me into a lovestruck fool. Now it's Spencer, and I can never date him because he's from Earth."

"Why's Earth a problem?"

"His being from Earth means I'd never be the CEO. My mother wants me to find a Martian boy."

"Like Aiden. Problem solved," she said. "I'll take Spencer, then."

"No!" I replied. "Aiden's a jerk. He just acts okay for a while, but the jerk always returns."

"You can't date Spencer, so I'm free to date him, right?"

I twisted my face. "What happened to the girlfriend code?"

Roxy looped her finger around her hair as I did sometimes. "He's just so cute."

"You win. I don't want you to pursue him because my crush isn't gone. I'll get over it, and then you can swoop in."

"I never really wanted to date him anyway. I have other tastes."

"You jerk!" I tossed an empty cup at her. "You're worse than Aiden."

She ducked, and it rattled across the floor. "Oh yeah. Miss Valentine needed water."

"Clean the cup, please."

She laughed as she walked away. "You'll never know if I did, gimpy."

I smiled and caught myself thinking about Spencer. Roxanne's test had worked. She had baited me into admitting I had feelings for him. It was true that my mother would never give me the company if I married, or perhaps even dated, an Earth boy. Marriage was years away. Maybe I should have some fun until then. I could enjoy the crush.

Roxanne headed out of the office, and I was alone. Immediately, I recalled the financial reports. I had another reason for giving Roxanne the job of getting the wig. I wanted to check the financials from today by myself. If we didn't show a profit, I'd know something was definitely wrong.

I started right away, and in the end, the numbers were as I expected. Or at least, as I expected them to be wrong. We only made a tiny profit, and it was good enough to keep the corporate officials off Vacationland's back. I checked for any edits to the financial records or transfers to other bank accounts. Nothing. No one had touched them.

I sat back. The managers were doing something, and I suspected that Whitney and I would find out in a few hours. Most people would be happy with a small profit at Vacationland, considering its location within Venusville.

But most people weren't Vicky Valentine.
Chapter 13

While the Mice Are Away, the Cat Can't Play

Whitney and I met at five. I brought a pair of jeans and a gray coat to go with my new black hair. Whitney topped us both off with Earth baseball caps.

Across the plaza, we waited for the managers to leave for their six o'clock appointment. Something was important to them, and leaving early was so common, Dextra didn't even challenge them anymore.

Mr. Tracker and Ms. Hately hurried out of the park at exactly six, with Whitney and me in pursuit. We kept a good distance from them as they headed toward the elevator hub. Venusville was build more up and down than a normal city, so instead of trains or buses, it had elevator hubs with huge passenger cars. It seemed a bit abnormal to my senses, but it worked just the same as any train station.

They took the 6:10 elevator down to the loading docks. We followed in the next car that left seconds later. I was afraid we'd lose them, but the glass elevators and the huge open space running down the center of Venusville allowed us to keep an eye on them.

When they exited the elevator, the pair darted toward the east terminal. We followed, and in no time, we caught up to them, as they had to wait for security. I used my access card to slip Whitney and me through the express line. It paid to have rich parents some of the time.

We were several meters behind them and separated by a group of workers walking to their next shift. They hadn't looked behind them, which made me think they didn't suspect anyone was following them.

"At least we know it isn't an affair," Whitney said. "No hotels or beds around here."

"Eew." My nose curled in disgust. I hadn't thought they might be doing something of that nature. "They're interested in something down here."

They entered hangar fifteen. Instead of following, I pulled Whitney through to the next hangar door, and we stopped.

"Why didn't you follow?" she asked.

"Look above the door. Private hangars don't have a lot of strange-looking people walking through them. We'd get caught."

"So we can't know what's going on in there?" Whitney's shoulders slumped. "I thought this would get me off the hook."

"We'll figure something out," I replied. "The maintenance data is arriving tomorrow, so we have some time before they can do anything."

Whitney's face turned to worry. "I really don't want to go to jail. I didn't know signing that paper would make it so complicated. I just wanted to leave."

"I know. They threatened you. If it comes to it, I'll admit I was there and tell them the truth."

"Maybe we should do that now, before they implicate me and think we're suddenly making it up."

Her eyes and my heart told me she was right, but my head told me I needed to keep my position at the park for the other students. "My mother will cancel the scholarships if we don't make a bigger profit. The scholarships have always been a bonus, even if everyone thinks it's a given. If I'm gone, whatever they're doing will continue."

"If your mother hasn't complained about profits, why is it a problem? Maybe she'll fix it herself."

I didn't tell her I had heard from my mother about profits. "My mother's idea of fixing it is closing the park down or firing the interns. I'm looking for something a bit more diplomatic."

"Interns aren't paid."

"Hotel rooms, food allowance, daily allowance, etc., all paid for by Valentine Entertainment."

"Oh, yeah. I was missing my daily allowance today."

"Let's get some repayment now." We headed to the stairwell across the hall and scaled two flights until we reached the upper floor.

"What's up here?" Whitney asked.

We walked past several windows overlooking a huge storm cloud throwing lightning in many directions. Seeing the acidic rain hit the colony, I flashed back to our flight in, and it occurred to me that I had failed to do one thing.

I entered the flight control room to see the controllers working ferociously to direct ships in and out of the colony. Red lights flashed across the screens at the front, and I understood enough to know that everything had been canceled because of the storm coming.

"Excuse me," someone said from beside us. "What're you doing here?"

"We didn't know—" Whitney was about to say, but I cut her off.

"I'm looking for the nice man who saved me a few days ago." I smiled with my best grin. "I have to thank him."

The man didn't waver. "You aren't supposed to be in here."

"I'm Vicky Valentine. He talked me in with some great instructions, and I've been so busy that I forgot to thank him. If I don't, he'll think I'm a jerk forever."

"You aren't supposed to be in here."

"Johnson," another man said, "take it easy. Everything is canceled, so we have some time."

"They're on you, then." Johnson walked away.

"I'm Flight Controller Dewey," the nice-looking man said. "I heard your name and thought you might be looking for me."

"Are you the man who saved me?"

"You saved yourself," he replied. "I just provided some help."

"I consider you my hero." I smiled at him. "Could I buy you a drink or something?"

"No, Miss," he replied. "It's my job."

"Then I want to know all about it," I replied. "Can you show me a few things?"

"Five minutes. Johnson is right about one thing: our boss would have a security freak-out if he saw you here."

"You shouldn't leave doors open," I said. "Strangers like me just walk in and take over the place, looking at things we shouldn't."

"You look harmless enough. Come on."

He led us to his station and showed us the radar, the ships in orbit, and dozens of other systems that helped them locate us.

I wasn't very interested in that information. I was more interested in the security systems that I was too harmless to break. "Can you show me the hangars?" I asked, nodding encouragement to Whitney. "I'd love to see some of the freighters."

"I can't. Security reasons. Only flight controllers have access."

"That's disappointing," I muttered, but an idea hit me. If the managers were doing something, they'd probably register the hangar to the park. "Show us hangar fifteen. It's registered to my park." I showed him my badge. "How can that be a security violation?"

"I guess that would be okay." He called up the hangar and confirmed its registration. He displayed it on the screen, and I could see Tracker at the top of the loading ramp. Inside, there appeared to be palettes of something, but it was too dark to see clearly.

"There's our staff," I said, acting ditzy. "It's funny to see them on camera. Everyone looks so different."

"Look at Tracker," Whitney added. "The camera adds fifty pounds."

"I'm never entering a hangar," I replied. "If my boyfriend thought I'd gained fifty pounds, I'd be looking for a new one."

"Aiden can be such a jerk. That boy has no respect."

I eyed Whitney, who was smirking at me. Apparently, Roxanne had supplied a bit of history about me to the staff. "You don't know the half of it."

"Girls," Dewey said, "if you don't mind, I do have work to do."

"Oh yes," I replied. "You wouldn't like girl talk. Thanks for saving me. I owe you one."

"No, you don't. It's my job, remember?"

"Okay." I put my hands up in surrender. "Have it your way."

We left and headed down the stairs again. At the bottom, we hid down the hallway, watched the door to the hangar, and waited for the managers to reappear. I rubbed my leg. The medication was wearing off. I should've remembered to take another dose before I left, but my excitement over this mystery was becoming an obsession.

I'd been involved in mysteries before, but Molly and Pirra had led those adventures, so I felt an extra bit of excitement this time. This was my mystery. If I didn't solve it, Whitney would go to jail. I had to solve it, and I believed the answer was behind that door.

Tracker and Hately left the hangar and went down the hallway. I waited a minute or so and hurried to the doorway. I swiped my ID badge. The hangar opened.

I rushed inside, but it was empty. I dashed to the middle of the deck, but the walls were bare. The shield was still up, and the floor didn't have a collapsible basement.

"What happened?" Whitney asked. "Where are those pallets we saw?"

"I . . . I don't know. You saw the screen. And you saw the image."

"It couldn't have disappeared."

I headed to the computer terminal in the wall. "The manifests . . . the documents that hold what comes in and out of here." I tapped on the last shipment. "Last cargo arrived at three today and was unloaded, heading to the park at five."

"So what did we see?"

"Hold on. I was looking at incoming. As for outgoing . . . says it departed at seven at night. Wait, it isn't seven yet. That was yesterday. Nothing left here other than the empty ship that was unloaded at three."

"Then what did we see?" Whitney asked again. "Did Dewey trick us?"

Or maybe Tracker and Hately tricked Dewey. I walked out to the middle of the deck and looked toward the wall. I imagined the image I had seen and scanned the area, looking for the camera. "Boost me up."

Whitney intertwined her fingers, and I climbed up onto her shoulders against the wall. Using my fingers, I found the panel where the camera was housed.

"You're lighter than you look," Whitney said with her hands around my feet.

"I'm thinking light thoughts." I reached and reached to get the panel open. "I've almost found the camera. I'm betting it's sabotaged." I looked down to see Whitney struggling to keep me up.

"Anytime now. You don't have hollow bones, remember."

"I'm hurrying."

"Lucky you aren't still wearing your skirt. I'm getting quite a view."

"You interested? I thought we were buddies." I unclasped the panel and opened the hinged section.

"Buddies, maybe. Interested, no."

As I looked at the wiring of the camera, I really wished Roxanne was there. She would have known how to interpret this mess. I pulled and found the frayed edges of the wires. And where the other wires came out, they were spliced into a small box. It was designed for something, but what? I grabbed hold and yanked.

The yank caused Whitney to stumble below me. We shook back and forth a couple of times before we crashed to the deck. I landed squarely on my bad leg again.

I wailed in pain, cursing several times.

"I'm so sorry," Whitney said. "I didn't know you'd do that."

"It's my fault. Darn. Darn. It hurts."

"Did you at least accomplish anything?"

"I got this." I held out the small device without wires attached anymore. I put it in my pocket and attempted to stand. Immediately, I fell to the deck, crying this time. The pain was so intense. I should've stayed in the hospital.

"Don't move. I'll get a med team."

"No," I said, wiping the tears away. "We can't let them know we were here."

"I get it, but you're hurt."

"Just hurt. Not injured more. Get something to close the panel, and we'll slip out back to the hotel room."

Whitney closed the panel with a cleaning pole used on the ships. We left it the same as we arrived, other than the device in my pocket. Hobbling but getting better with every step, with Whitney's help I made it to the elevator to return to the hotel room.

Only I wouldn't be going there. I only said that so Whitney wouldn't insist on taking me to the hospital again. I had to get back to the park to take care of some unfinished business.
Chapter 14

Who Manages the Managers?

Like a hockey player or a football star after a big game, through the aches and pains, I somehow changed into my uniform and limped back to the office at seven thirty. Becky greeted me with a smile, but I couldn't tell why. It was probably the injury.

I reached the door to my office, after what had to be the slowest walk in history, and found Roxanne working away at her desk.

"I wrote down everything that happened at the park since you left." Roxanne didn't even question me about my leg. I'd never allow it to be an excuse, and she knew it.

"What's this? Any ideas?" I put the device I had retrieved from the hangar on her desk. "Where's Dextra?"

Roxanne picked it up and began to disassemble it. "Someone said they spotted the alien a few minutes ago. She went to make sure no one got hurt."

"It's back!" I said. "Without me around? I'm hurt."

"It hasn't been confirmed. We've been getting reports all day."

"And the device there. Don't show it to anyone. I kinda stole it."

"It'll take me a while to figure it out, and I need my tools from the hotel."

"Go there. Whitney's back, and I'm worried about her. I found out she might be arrested tomorrow . . . when they rule it sabotage."

"I can't leave you with your leg like that."

"I've got pills," I replied. "I can handle it."

Roxanne didn't argue further as I limped to my desk. She was gone before I settled in, and I was alone in the office again. As I logged in, my screen flashed with twenty new orders from the managers with Dextra's approval. Almost everything was alien-related.

I stared at the screen for a long moment. Instantly, I hated the idea of processing those orders. We were a business, and we should take time to evaluate the orders, especially considering that the alien popularity was only one day old.

I looked out over the park and back at the screen. The crowds were still heavy, even at this time of night. We could turn these orders into huge profits. But that was at any other park, not at Vacationland, where the profit was fixed. The managers were going to force me out soon. I could feel a plot converging around me, especially when I admitted to breaking into the zoo the other night.

With a single swipe and two clicks, I canceled all two hundred orders for today and locked out anyone who might try to approve more orders without my say-so. Even Dextra was at my mercy. I couldn't allow the ordering to continue. I needed to turn the lights on and see where the cockroaches scattered.

Even if the boot would crush me.
Chapter 15

I Can Take the Heat

I'm Wearing SPF One Million

I spent the night in agony. My leg screamed in pain, and the medication proved useless. I finally fell asleep just before the alarm rang. I got up and showered gingerly. The walk from the hotel was tiring, and my leg was aching again by the time Roxanne and I got to the park entrance a few minutes late.

I was looking forward to today and dreading it at the same time. I wanted to see who would react to my order cancellations, and I was nervous about their response.

"The noble princess hobbles to her throne," Roxanne kidded me, "determined to right the kingdom."

"We're going to make a good profit today. Yesterday, we broke out of our rut after I canceled the orders, and I expect the profit to be even higher today."

"What happens when we don't have any supplies?"

"I've already started that process. I had the night crew scan every supply container in the park to inventory everything. I'll base my orders on that."

"Can you trust them?" Roxanne asked as we arrived at the office door.

"I don't know," I muttered.

The office door swung open as we approached, and almost every manager got in my face instantly.

Mr. Tracker was on me first. "Miss Valentine, how can you do this? You'll ruin the park."

Ms. Hately jabbed her finger into my face. "Who do you think you are, taking power away from Ms. Devereaux?"

Mr. Carver bumped me on purpose as I tried to get to my desk. "Little girl, this isn't a dollhouse. This is a real business will real people."

"Mr. Carver," I said sternly, "you're suspended for the day. Do not push me again. Ms. Hately and Mr. Tracker, I'm going to review the canceled orders and adjust them as I see fit."

"Do you even know how?" Mr. Tracker threw his arms up. "We've run this park perfectly without you so far."

"If I need help," I said as harshly as I could, "I'll ask Ms. Devereaux. But I do know how, and I've done it in the past. Inventory purchases are a specialty of mine."

"Vacationland has some odd habits," Mrs. Greeval said. She worked in cuisine, one of the park's worst-performing departments. "If you don't order correctly, we'll get burned, especially with the alien sightings. We expect a bigger crowd today, considering the sighting late last night."

I nodded. "I heard we chased it away before it could damage anything further. Fortunate for us."

Mrs. Greeval's eyes bugged out in anger. "You'll starve the crowd today with your micromanaging. You should listen to Dextra."

"Go run your departments," I replied as coolly as I could. The staff ganging up on me wasn't comfortable, but I reassured myself that Roxanne was in my corner. It was a trick my mother taught me when I did my first speech in front of the class—always have a friend in the crowd.

"Princess-loves-herself, don't you dare stop those orders," Mr. Carver shouted angrily.

This caused the hairs on my neck to stand up.

"Or you'll be sorry."

I looked at him for a long moment, partly to keep my nerve up. "Two weeks. No pay."

Mr. Carver didn't reply. Mr. Tracker pulled him away. "Let's go. She'll come around when the crowd is banging on her door."

Everyone left, and Roxanne and I stood dumbstruck in the main office area. Seconds later, Dextra walked out of her office, stern-faced. I expected her to yell at me, too, or tell me she had sent word to my mother.

"You had more courage than I did," she said. "I caved after the first manager screamed at me."

"They threatened you?" I said. "You should've reported it."

"Not really threats," she replied. "It was more office bullying. They want their departments to have everything so they aren't reported as underperforming. They're ruled by the metrics your corporation created to track performance."

"The performance and financial grades are very consistent at Vacationland. Even the crowd is fairly consistent."

"A consistent crowd means consistent orders and supplies."

I knew better than to believe that simple math. "Actually—and maybe I can teach you something here—my mother would love every park to have the consistent crowds of Vacationland. Why? Because it would mean we—I mean you and I—could set up an ordering schedule and an employee schedule without ever overstaffing, oversupplying, or overpaying."

"It would be nice to always know what to order."

"Exactly. How come we haven't adjusted our orders?"

"The managers say we need what we need. It's not my fault. You aren't going to have me fired, are you?"

"No, Ms. Devereaux. It's never crossed my mind. I see a woman who is always on top of problems at the park. You're a good manager."

"I know what 'good' means. It means 'not great.' You looked at my profile and you saw what everyone else sees. Tons of jobs. It's because I tried to do it my way."

"Like I did, and they hate me."

Her face took on an expression of vulnerability. "I couldn't stand it. So when I came here, I changed. I followed them so they wouldn't hate me."

The managers' bullying was coming together. I understood how they were able to get their way. Now I needed to figure out why they wanted to keep the profits stable and how they managed to do it. Again, it would be in the financial reports.

"Don't worry, Ms. Devereaux. We'll get this straightened out. Please attend to any issues that come up today and adjust if we're undersupplied."

"Thank you," she said simply. "You took a burden off my shoulders. Remember, you can come to me with anything."

I nodded and she left.

"That was weird," Roxanne said. "Dextra being vulnerable and you standing up to a hulking man like Mr. Carver was impressive."

I rubbed my sweaty palms on my skirt. "I think it's all the drugs for my leg. Let's figure out what they're so angry about."

"Maybe you canceled their morning coffee order," she replied.

"Funny. If I did, it's my first budget cut."

She chuckled. "Topping my jokes . . . Vicky is coming back to us. I mean Miss Valentine."

"Actually, even if my leg is under constant knife attack, I'm feeling better the closer we get to the answer. It's coming today."

"Why today?"

"Because it has to . . . for Whitney."

"Let's get to work, then." She sat beside me, and we stepped line by line over the inventory report.

As I said to Roxanne, I was starting to enjoy the job a little. The interns and the managers hated me, though. I guess I was a real boss, and my way was going to work. Soon it would pay off for everyone.
Chapter 16

I Must've Been a Bad Girl. . .

All I Got Was a Lump of Coal

Roxanne and I finished the unexciting job of finding absolutely nothing in Vacationland's inventory report. The inventory matched without issue, which was a problem in itself, like the consistency of the crowd and the consistency with the tiny profit. The real world wasn't this perfect.

We left the office for the supply warehouse so I could see how a perfect operation ran. The books told me that the managers' orders were a thing of beauty. I had to see their greatness for myself. Really, the managers' comments were slowly eating me from within. Not my confidence . . . that was building. The comments were eating at my calmness. Molly would have said, "I want to punch someone," and so did I, someone or something. I'd start with Mr. Carver's nose.

I tapped the stun gun on my hip. I didn't like carrying it at work, but after Mr. Carver's threat and him pushing me, I thought it best to have protection against another manager's wrath. One never could be too careful around people and their money. Or I should say, people and Valentine money.

"You should slow down," Roxanne said, running ahead of me to get the next series of scans. She fed the data to my tablet, and everything was still adding up. The scanning crew from last night wasn't doing anything wrong.

"Can't you feel it, Roxy? We're going to figure this out."

"Feel it?" she said. "We've been looking for two hours, and we've only proven nothing is wrong."

"That's the proof. It works out perfectly in the books. It works out perfectly in the performance reports. Perfect. Perfect. Perfect."

"Yeah. The perfect crime because we can't prove anything."

"There's no such thing as the perfect crime. That's my point."

"I understand," she replied. "I'm tired. Let's sit for a minute."

I rubbed my leg. It was feeling a bit tight, so I took her advice and we sat on the loader's rear bumper for a few minutes. We sat quietly, my mind replaying the events with the managers and their anger. I had wanted to see their reaction, but it didn't necessarily tell me who was involved. They could be legitimately angry about the performance reports. Dextra said they were obsessed with them.

Valentine Entertainment Corp. had designed the reports to show managers how their performance was affecting sales and efficiency, but I'd never seen such perfect numbers. Perfection itself was a flaw in an imperfect world. After reviewing enough of those reports with my mother growing up, I'd learned to see through the reports to the actual process. If something was off or if something was better, the numbers always told the truth.

"Follow the money," Roxanne muttered. "Why have we been looking for something wrong at the park itself?"

"That's where the problem is."

"What do you say when you want to figure out a problem?"

"I follow the money. Yeah, I follow the money." I stood. "If we're buying these supplies, we should be making money from their sale. For every toy, ticket, and photo, I have a sales receipt, so they aren't getting stolen."

Roxanne flicked her chin. "Unless it's something like a plate or a straw or cleaning supplies or . . ."

"Those can be tracked, too."

"How? How do we know how many straws are gone if no one buys them directly or how do we know if we use a toilet cleaner?"

"Easy. The managers send a . . ." I stood. My mind went into overdrive, thinking of everything I wanted to check. "That might be it. If we're right, almost all of Vacationland has been stealing from us for years. It's brilliant because it's so consistent."

"I don't like that word anymore," Roxanne said. "It's being used too often around here."

"Let's go to the back containers to see if I'm correct." I hobbled through a narrow row to the back of the warehouse and scaled the ladder leading to the bin above the floor.

Roxanne stood below, waiting for me to input the scan.

"Put that away," I said. "This time we do it the old-fashioned way."

"How?"

"With our fingers and toes, ready to count."

"Sure. I guess."

I flipped open the cargo container, which should have revealed a perfectly full supply of garbage bags and cleaning supplies. I wasn't shocked at the results.

"Okay, how many?" Roxanne asked.

"Ready to add," I replied, feeling happy with myself. I'd done it. I'd figured out the plot. I just needed the who.

"I'm ready. Come on."

"Really ready now," I said. "I hope you're a good adder."

"Spare me the Molly dramatics." She jumped up and down. "How many?"

"Here goes . . . zero plus zero plus zero times zero to the zero power. A lump of coal. Most of these crates are empty. And when I run the numbers, I'm betting we've over-ordered for years."

"But the numbers work out. We have and use what it says."

"We should have the inventory the financials say we have. We don't use the inventory the financials say we use. That was the key to it when you said we couldn't track it. We can track it, but only with a guess from the managers. I know a way to get the real numbers without the managers, though."

"How?"

"Suppliers' recommended charts."

"One of those things not on the simple page?" Roxanne looked confused.

"It's like this. The company sends us charts. A chart says, 'If you sell ten drinks, the manufacturer recommends you buy—' "

"Ten straws and ten cups!" Roxy's face lit up.

"Almost," I said, climbing down beside her. "It'll recommend twelve or thirteen because of waste and damage. I just need to run the numbers again, only this time use manufacturer recommendations and not manager recommendations."

"Wow, that's risky on the managers' part."

"Yes, because it's a crime. But no, Valentine Entertainment must rely on the managers to supply orders. They're in the field. It's the reason I'm here this semester. I need field experience, and every park is different, so the recommendations of the suppliers are only a starting point."

"So they've been over-ordering to some end?"

"Yeah. I'm certain the orders will drop by double when I do it my way."

"Where's the rest of it going?"

"Into someone else's pocket."

"Whose?"

"That's the big question. With most of the managers involved, we may never find them all."

The door to the warehouse boomed with a sudden jolting bang. Roxanne jumped, and we ran back to the main corridor. After the long exercise to uncover the secret, it took all my energy to force my leg to move, then all my energy to stop suddenly.

A loud hissing sound echoed against the metal ceiling. I saw the creature rear back. From beside me, Roxanne screamed. She moved behind me, and I stepped forward to protect her, my stun gun out.

With six eyes staring at us, a ghastly snakelike creature slinked toward us. Only this pinkish snake had wings, and it was from another world. A real alien this time.
Chapter 17

I'm Not Afraid of Snakes. . .

I Just Don't Need Them Near Me, Ever

"I thought you said the alien was a man in a suit," Roxanne said in a thin, hollow voice. "How did he fit in there?"

"Obviously," I said, swallowing the bitter, fearful taste, "that's a different creature, and it's real this time."

"Who did this to us?"

"Mr. Carver is my first guess . . . or maybe Mr. Tracker . . . or Ms. . . . I don't know. All of them." My eyes locked on the flying snake and its two front fangs. It zipped back and forth, its wings creating a humming sound, and its six eyes looked as if they went in every direction. I stepped back with Roxanne, but we hit against the cargo containers at the end of the row.

Supply containers ran in several rows on the floor. Most of them were stacked two or three high. That stopped the flying snake from immediately diving at us. We'd be able to escape for a little bit, but getting to the main door would be difficult.

I pushed Roxanne to the side, and we ran down the row, cutting between cargo containers, and then down another row. The humming sound receded above us, and I pulled Roxanne to a kneel. We stopped out of sight, containers stretched three high above us.

I needed a plan, as Molly would say. "Stun gun," I muttered. "Get it out!"

"It moves so quickly." Roxanne unclasped her holster. "Do you think you can get a clean shot? Most alien bodies are resistant to these stunners."

"I'm thinking since it flies . . . it'll have thin skin."

"Why?" Roxanne said. "Remember what I just said. It's alien."

"Even aliens need to obey physics." I shook my head. "Whitney told me something at the zoo, about eagles. They have hollow bones, so they're light. If this snake had a thick skin, it'd weight a hundred pounds. There's no way the wings could support it."

"Those huge birds are light?"

I nodded. "I didn't believe it either, but it's true. So we might have a chance against this creature. Don't turn your back. Hopefully it'll run to some corner, and we can escape."

"Our plan is to hope a vicious alien creature will be a coward? I'm not sure I buy that."

Above us, the snake landed, tucked its wings against its side, and slithered quickly down toward us. I snapped off three shots, but I missed badly. Roxanne ran toward the nearby row, and I followed behind her.

"So much for not turning our backs." I hobbled on my bad leg, but it was feeling decent so far. "Where is it?"

"Behind us," Roxanne huffed out between heavy breaths. I glanced over my shoulder. The snake slinked along the floor. I twirled around to face it. I got off three shots and hit it in the neck, near its face.

My leg didn't like the twisting motion, and I fell on my butt, hard. My shoulder collided with a cargo container, and the rattle of my stun gun against the concrete floor overrode any pain. It caused me to panic.

I lunged for the creature, but with my pathetically weak leg, I failed before I even could really try. I wailed in both pain and frustration.

Oddly, the snake didn't attack immediately. My stun shots had hurt it. Purple and green, the diamond shapes of its six eyes pushed in as it focused on me. I swallowed hard and took in a breath. Ready to try something to stop it, I balled my fists and stood on one knee.

It came at me quickly. I moved to the side, and it slammed into a cargo container, making the metal shudder. I wrapped my arm around it in a headlock.

It pushed its tail against the ground and flipped both of us end over end. We crashed to the floor. My grip held, though. My theory? If my arm was around its head, it couldn't bite me, except for my limp leg. And since I was really mad at my injured leg for letting me down again, the snake could have it.

It thrashed about, but I didn't let go. I curled backward and twisted my good leg around it. When I squeezed, pushing my foot into its body, I had some power behind it. Its wings extended and hummed as it took off.

But it didn't get very far. We were maybe three or four feet off the ground before the intense buzzing of its wings topped out. It had nothing left. It was as exhausted as I was.

We dropped to the floor. I took all the weight, and that stunned me. The snake used my weakness to free itself, and it slithered higher above so I couldn't reach it.

My vision blurred, but I made out something coming at me.

Zing! Zang! Zing! Bolts of stun gun energy charges hit the blob. Roxanne jumped over me and slammed the butt of her gun into the snake's face.

Immediately, it circled high above and flew away. Roxanne grabbed me just as my vision cleared.

My leg wouldn't let me stand. "No, I can't," I said. "Open this container. We've got to trap it."

I kept my eye on the snake as it hovered just down the row. The snap of the container door opening triggered hope. I knew the order date from the reports. It would be another mislabeled container. I was right. It was empty.

I hopped back to the opening. "Roxy, you run toward the snake and then run back when it chases you. I'll move when it tries to get me. It knows I'm injured."

"Can you move, though?" she asked.

"Yes, enough," I lied. My leg was as bad as it had ever been, even when I had injured it in Acadia City.

"I'm going," she said, but I could see the terror in her eyes. She jogged a few feet and hesitated when the snake stopped its darting. "Come on, you ugly stick with wings."

It came at her almost instantly. I shot a few stun bullets, but they were all high. Roxanne turned and headed toward me at top speed. I danced on my one foot, suddenly wondering what I would do to avoid the creature. Planting my foot wasn't possible without falling over.

Roxanne decided on doing the most obvious thing. She dove in front of me, falling flat.

The snake barely missed her back, but it caught sight of the pathetic girl without anywhere to run. I had two cargo doors on either side of me, the back of the cargo container behind me, and a snake coming directly at me. Really, it was dumb to think of this plan.

Desperately, I fired two more shots. Both hit the snake on the left part of its tail. It lurched to the side, which I had hoped it would do. I jumped to the other side as the snake flew beside me into the back of the container. My cheer was muted when its tail caught my waist and knocked me hard into the metal walls.

I held the stun gun firmly, though. "Close your side, Rox. I'll get out."

She slammed the right door.

I zinged two shots at the creature. It freaked out, slashing its tail back and forth. I tried to crawl, but my leg hurt bitterly.

"I can't . . ." I fell to the floor.

Roxanne hurried in. She fired what seemed like a thousand stuns into the snake. It curled up in the corner. Desperately, I grabbed Roxanne's hand, and she pulled me out of the container. Just as she turned to close the door, the creature sprang at her. I fired three shots into its wings, and it dropped to the floor.

With a quick twist, Roxanne slammed the door and clicked the lock. It wasn't getting out.

"Ahh, yeah!" I cried in triumph.

"Snap!" Roxanne pumped her fist. "That was amazingly cool." She jumped around.

I lay on the floor, dancing in my head. "We did it!"

"Oh, Vicks, rest a minute."

Roxanne held my hand as I lay there. We were exhausted, dirty, sweaty, and both thankful we had each other at that moment. Friends meant a lot to me, and not having many over the past few days wasn't as easy as I had pretended.

I lay for five, maybe ten minutes. The winged snake never attempted to leave the crate, nor did Roxanne or I attempt to speak. The silence was soothing to both of us. It had been a long day.

Finally, I propped up on my elbow and rubbed my hip. My nerves were settling down. "I should be able to walk again," I said. "I twisted my hip when I was running and shooting. I should've known."

"You were valiant. I don't think we would've survived without that plan."

"Forced plan. Only because I couldn't run. You saved me twice. This was a Roxanne victory."

"Thanks. How can we possibly go back to work looking like this?" She indicated her clothes.

"We can't," I said. "And we can't go back with them thinking we saw the alien creature. So we have to play it like we never saw it."

"Why?"

"Because if they think we know about aliens on Venusville and in Vacationland, they'll probably just shoot us dead. No more alien traps. We need to make them think we never saw it."

"How?"

"Help me." She did, and we made our way over to the supply bins for new uniforms. "Like this."
Chapter 18

Feeding a Story to Stuffed Guests

Roxanne and I exited the supply warehouse with new uniforms exactly like the dirty, torn, and ripped ones we had shed. Since my leg hadn't been in the best shape for the past few days, it wasn't unusual for me to have a limp. As quickly as possible, we made our way toward the office, but about halfway through the park, Mr. Tracker stopped us.

"Did you approve those orders yet?" he asked.

"I'm in the process." I waved my tablet at him. "Getting data."

"Shouldn't you be in the warehouse?" Ms. Hately moved up from another direction. "I was told you were there, and I had to run back across to find you. Did you do your unnecessary inventory? We know what we need. Please approve our orders."

Mrs. Quinton came from another direction. "Someone reported screaming coming from the warehouse. Are you girls okay?"

"Something scary in there?" Mr. Tracker leaned toward us.

"Actually, yes," I replied. "We need to replace the ceiling panel near the front. It made this awful banging sound. We were so scared we screamed and ran out of there. Can you add that to your list, Mr. Tracker?"

"Ceiling panel," Mr. Tracker said. "Did you see anything?"

"Yes, a ceiling panel that was loose. Near the front. It slapped shut and created an awful banging sound that scared us. I just told you."

His face twisted. "Really?"

"Why are you having such a hard time with a loose panel?" I said, trying to hide the smirk on my face. Lying was hard when you were trying to trick someone.

He shook his head. "I'll fix it."

"Thanks," I said. "And Mrs. Quinton, the guests were saying they spotted the alien near the Twist Topper. Make sure it doesn't scare the kids."

"Alien . . . near the Topper," Mr. Tracker repeated. "A real one?"

The Twist Topper was a couple rides over from the warehouse. I tweaked my lie to include a sighting. It was probable that the alien had crept out of the roof and flew over there. This story was working because they couldn't believe we survived. They really didn't know Vicky Valentine and her alien adventures with Molly of Mars.

"You saw an alien?" Mrs. Quinton asked.

"No. Kids saw it near the Twist Topper," I said sternly. "Are you two feeling okay today?"

"But how can it be . . . ?" He trailed off.

"How can what be?"

"I don't know," he muttered.

"Well," I said to all of them, "nothing has changed. I'll order the supplies when I feel ready."

All three of the managers were unimpressed, but Mr. Tracker remained distracted, trying to solve the mystery of our survival.

I bade them farewell and headed toward the office. "That went well," I said to Roxanne.

"Mr. Tracker seemed confused. I think he sent the alien to attack us."

"He's involved. Ms. Hately probably is, too, because of the other night at the hangar. Mrs. Quinton . . . I don't know. I need to trap them all, and I think I can. I'll check over the inventory so I can narrow down the suspects. Then we'll spring the trap with some help."

"Who would help us?" Roxanne asked. "We can't trust the managers or even Dextra or the police."

"I know. They might hate me, but the only people we can trust are . . . the interns. Can you assemble them under the ruse of a lunchtime event for the newcomers only?"

"Right away, Miss Valentine."
Chapter 19

The Intern Paradox

"Listen," I said from the front of the dining hall. "There isn't any food."

"This is absolutely the worst luncheon in the history of the world," Becky said. "Not only have you made our internship's focus be on stuff we already know, but you have a lunch without food. Are you going to make us run wind sprints?"

"I'm not going to make you run back and forth. There is no lunch because it was a trick."

"A trick?" Troy said. "Now you're making fun of us. Are you going to dock our lunchtime for this? If so, I'm going to file a complaint—"

"Mr. Gamble, I can explain."

"Why's Roxanne watching the door?" John Turner asked.

"I'm going to explain, John." John worked in the food prep department. He'd been quiet until now.

"I'm leaving if there's no food," Becky barked and turned to the door.

Several interns started to follow.

"Your scholarships are at risk," I said.

The interns stopped. Troy turned, and his eyes caught my attention. They were venomous. He started toward me with his fists balled, as if ready to strike me.

With my bad leg, I couldn't run away or back away. "It's not what you think."

Troy narrowed his eyes sharply. "You stupid, arrogant, rich bit—"

"Stop," Spencer stepped in front of him. "Miss Valentine . . . Vick . . . Miss Valentine should explain herself first."

"Please," I said. "I'll explain."

"I can't believe this," Becky said. "She doesn't get her way, and she threatens our scholarships. Troy is right. Let's punch her."

"No, but she better have a good reason." Spencer turned to me. "Please have one."

"I'm not threatening your scholarships. It's the managers."

"They're going to give us bad grades?" Troy shook his head. "We've been working overtime to cover their early dismissals. And I was promised my demerits would be erased."

"They can't do that," I said. "Only I have—"

"Not if you're gone," Troy said. "They're going—"

"Troy, shut up." Becky cut him off. "She wants to win us over. What is it, sick Vick?"

"You have it backward," I said. Knowing the managers were going to have Dextra kick me out wasn't comforting. "The managers—or some of them, at least—have been leaving early because they're stealing from the park. If they steal from the park, it'll be impossible to fund the scholarships. My mother sent me a letter. I've been working hard to figure out why. And I have most of the puzzle put together, but I need to know what managers are involved."

"The ones that leave early," Troy said. "Isn't that simple?"

"No," I replied. "Because some managers started to leave early because other managers were leaving early. A human condition type of thing."

Becky nodded. "It's an 'If they can do it, why can't I?' sort of idea."

"Yes, so I can't blame anyone until I know," I replied. "I need your help to catch the ones who're stealing."

"So let's tell the police," Troy said. "Why're we risking ourselves for you?"

"Some of the police are in on it, too. Remember Whitney? They forced her to quit, remember?"

Becky crossed her arms. "She left Venus days ago. You fired her."

"Dextra did, actually," I replied. "She's been staying in my hotel room. I felt bad about getting her fired, so I let her stay—"

"Wait, you felt bad about getting her fired," Becky replied. "How?"

"We were in the zoo late at night, and . . . well, she turned herself in so I could escape."

"Vicky Valentine breaking a rule?" Spencer wagged his finger at me.

I put my arm up as if I was testifying at a trial. "I'm a hypocrite and a rule breaker. I did it for your scholarships. I really did."

Becky wasn't convinced. "More like so the park could make money."

"That, too, but really, I don't want you guys to miss out. I risked myself at the zoo, which would have cost us everything if I were caught. If the managers win, you don't get a scholarship bonus. I guarantee it. I know it's hard to believe, but it's true. My mother is brutal."

The crowd murmured in disbelief.

"We know Whitney was caught in the zoo," Spencer said. "Miss Valentine could have been there, and she's been keeping Whitney in her hotel."

Becky's face softened. "The guilt and whiny voice seem real."

"Thanks, Becky," I said. "I think, anyway."

Troy spoke up: "I don't like how some of the managers are leaving us alone. It doesn't seem right."

Spencer appeared to be reconsidering. Finally, he nodded. "What do we have to do?"

I was glad they believed me—or at least considered that I might be telling the truth. "A couple of things. I need Becky to create a distraction for the guests. I need John, Spencer, and Troy to act as alien hunters with me. If I'm right, we'll be able to get the corrupt managers to come to us."
Chapter 20

These Onion Layers Are Going to Make Me Cry

When I got back into my office, I sent a notice to all the managers to send me their highest priority orders, and I would approve them. I wanted to see what was important to them. I didn't believe it possible that all the managers were involved, but I knew several more outside of Mr. Tracker and Ms. Hately were. My analysis would show who ordered unnecessary items.

I was tempted to allow Mr. Carver back for the afternoon, but it would work better if he wasn't there. If he returned without permission, I could add him to the list of conspirators.

My biggest challenge would be Dextra. She seemed honest before, but I'd heard sob stories in the past. She might be telling me one thing and spitting on me when my back was turned, so she remained a suspect.

The next phase of my plan was to announce that the alien had been caught. Spencer, Troy, and John were suiting up for that fake out. I told them to dirty themselves as if they had caught it, and I'd join them when I was ready. They seemed excited about helping me, especially Spencer, who had turned into the interns' leader.

He had really helped me in the dining hall. It was the turning point for the others, and my charity toward Whitney had paid off. I knew good deeds usually created good karma, but I didn't do it for any other reason than my guilt.

I heard some rustling in my closet. I took my stun gun from the desk drawer and stood. "Who's there?" I said sternly.

"It's me, Whit."

"Come out. I have the office windows closed."

She exited with a worried look on her face. "They came to the hotel. They slid this note under your door."

"Who?" I took the note.

Miss Valentine,

I'm with Venusville investigations, Martian Command. We're looking for Beatrice Whitney Phavors. If you have any forwarding information for her, please contact Inspector Sidney Samuel in Venusville.

Inspector Samuel, VVMC

The VVMC stood for Venusville Martian Command division. They were the Mars police force spread over much of the solar system.

I put the note in my top drawer and sat down. Whitney moved over to the other chair, and we didn't say anything for a good minute.

I tapped on the metal desk. "I've started a plan to catch the managers and hopefully some members of the Venusville PD. I don't know if it will clear you."

"I'm scared . . . more than I'm showing. I can't be a fugitive."

"I still have the bolt from the accident. I could get someone to test it, and maybe it would show you couldn't have done it."

Whitney frowned. "I've been reading up on courts and stuff. Once you took it, it's contaminated. Plus we can't prove it was on the roller coaster."

"I hoped it would help," I said. "I'll try everything to get you off. I'll testify it wasn't you, even if I have to lie."

Whitney frowned deeply. "Don't risk yourself for me. I was thinking . . . maybe you should just be quiet about the zoo. You can do more good here than not."

"I can't do that," I said. "I'm already sick about you having to go through this much."

A knocked came at the door. I jumped, and Whitney practically fell out of her chair.

"To the closet," I said.

I moved to the door and opened it. "Hi, Becky. What's up?"

"The med team asked me to bring this to you. You ordered it."

"I did?" I said, taking the bag. I was suspicious because I hadn't ordered anything. "Who gave you this?"

"The nurse, Connors or Carter. I forget her name. She replaced Whitney."

"Okay, are you ready for your performance?" I was referring to the distraction she would create.

Becky nodded. "It doesn't involve a costume, so I'm good with it. That reminds me, I have to make a few rounds of the park as Barley the Bear. Jump, jump, hop, jump . . . Don't worry, I remember." She huffed her disapproval and left.

I was starting to feel bad for the interns. They weren't enjoying their roles, even if they were good at doing them. Becky was a spectacular entertainer, but she wanted more responsibility. Giving them what they wanted went against my sense of leadership, though, and I was still resistant.

I closed the door and looked at the bag again.

"My order." Whitney grabbed the bag and spilled it across my desk. "Hike your skirt up and sit down."

"Excuse me?" I replied.

"I'm a nurse, remember? I watched you walk to and from the dining hall. I placed an order before you reached the office."

"How did—"

"You're not the only one who can do a good impression. My Strict Vick is almost perfect."

I sat down and raised my skirt so my injury was exposed. "I didn't think someone could do an impression of me."

"Ready for it?" Whitney prepared the wraps and creams on the desk. "This is Vicky Valentine, supreme ruler of Vacationland. Policy number twenty-five states that medical supplies can be delivered to the main office in lieu of filling out report forty-five and stamping it by a manager with a pay-level higher than sixteen, blah, blah, blah. See how easy it is?"

I sat back and crossed my arms. "Everyone will see that my way was the right way. I found the plot doing it my way."

"Explain it to me. I'm still confused."

"I don't know it all," I admitted, "but I know what they did to the financials at Vacationland."

"Making supplies disappear? Is that what happened at the hangar?"

"Not like that. This is what they were doing. We order hundreds of items to run the park. Some of the items can be traced part for part or by sales. Other things can't be traced because they're either used as needed, like cleaning supplies or grease, or they're free to patrons, like plates, straws, and napkins."

"So how were they stealing?"

"Some of the managers have been ordering more untraceable items than this park needs, but they've been doing it in such a way that we always made a profit. If we got more guests, they'd order more. If we got fewer, they'd order less. That meant corporate would see great performance numbers and manageable profits."

"Wouldn't the warehouse be packed?"

"That's the other thing . . . they're selling the oversupply to other places."

"What other places?"

"That's a missing piece of the puzzle, and another is what they're doing with the zoo."

"I just had a thought," Whitney said as she continued to wrap my leg tighter and tighter. "Roxanne told me the fake alien created lots of business for the park. Maybe they created it as an attraction."

"What if it had scared everyone away? It almost scared me away."

"It scares people from Acadia City," Whitney said. "The past few days, while I was bored in your hotel room, I read about what you did with Molly of Mars. I'm sorry for not giving you more credit."

"My adventures with her were great. It's just that . . . well . . . I found a way to leave so I could get out of her shadow. Vacationland is my first adventure without her, but the aliens followed me. I don't like them."

"For everyone else in the solar system, the aliens are fascinating, and seeing a real alien is special. It's a big advertisement for Vacationland."

"Advertisement," I muttered. "It wasn't advertisement. It was for the late-night zoo encounters. They wanted more rich people to come to look at the illegal aliens, and having a fake one in Vacationland would create a buzz without risk to the zoo."

"There aren't any illegal aliens in the zoo. Remember, it was a red llama."

"So we thought, but Roxanne and I caught a real alien."

"A real one?" she said, finishing the wrap. "Can I see it?"

"Not now." I hopped up and hurried around the desk. "It's going to be even more important to my plan, and I have to start right away."

"Can I do something?"

"Hey, wait," I said. "My leg is almost better. What did you do?"

"I put an electronic stimulator inside the wrap. It'll help the nerves for a few hours."

"Aren't those dangerous?"

"Yes, but you won't slow down, and I figured you wanted to have surgery afterward. It'll happen with the way you're running around."

I tested my leg. It felt almost perfect, and I needed it for the rest of the day so I'd risk a stimulator. "Thanks. Stay here and do only one thing."

"What?"

"Turn yourself in."

Whitney's face added another degree of deeper worry. I knew the plan would work. It was so perfect, it couldn't fail.
Chapter 21

My Booty on the Line, so My Way

Whitney wasn't excited about turning herself in, but it was her only option as far as I was concerned. My plan would get the people who were actually guilty, and she'd be free. But there was a risk she would run, and if she did, my plan would fall apart.

When I arrived at the back of the park, I saw that the boys had done their job perfectly. I checked the cargo container, and it was the one with the winged snake.

"Good job, guys," I said. "Anyone see you?"

"Nope," Spencer said. "We had to wait a few minutes for Tracker to leave the warehouse. He left angry."

"Something was moving in there," Troy said. "We didn't open it, though."

"No way was I opening it," John added.

I waved at the cargo container. "There's an alien creature inside. It's like a snake with wings."

"An alien?" Spencer said. "For real? You caught the one who's been seen around the park?"

"No," I said. "The other alien's a fake. This one is real, and I'm going to use it to catch the managers, remember?"

Troy crossed his arms. "That's what you had us move. Maybe you should've told us."

"Sorry, I'm a little distrustful of everyone right now. I didn't want you to worry, either."

"It's okay," Spencer said. "Troy, something is happening here. We've got to let Miss Valentine play this out."

"So what do we have to do now?" Troy said. "Fight it in front of the guests?"

"Nothing major," I said. "All of you go up the hill and meet Whitney. She's near the cotton candy machine, and she knows the next step in the plan. I'll stay here and see which managers show up."

Spencer didn't look happy to leave. "How do you know you can get them all?"

"I learned from my last adventure that criminals aren't trusting," I said. "If there's a risk that they'll get caught, they'll personally come to stop me. None of them will trust the others."

"What do you expect them to do?" Spencer asked. "Just give up?"

I was honest with them. "To steal back the alien. I believe they've used what they've stolen to bring aliens to the zoo. I'll catch them red-handed."

"The zoo?" Troy replied. "Our rivals? Why?"

"I can't explain everything right now because there are still missing pieces," I said. "We'll find out soon. I told Becky to announce at the front gate that the alien had been caught and Martian Command moved it off Venusville. The guests are leaving."

My phone buzzed.

"This is her." I clicked on her name. "Becky?"

"This is the worst distraction ever!" She sounded confused and overwhelmed. "I've got a hundred people at the complaint counter, and everyone else is making a mad dash for the exits. I'm sorry if we lose everyone."

"It's okay, Becky. We wanted it to be large. Thanks."

"Okay, if you say so. Sorry again, anyway." She hung up.

I told Spencer what she had said.

"Are you sure that's good?" he said. "Aren't you supposed to keep guests in the park?"

"Normally," I said. "But in order to clean up, I need to take out the trash for the guests. You boys go, and I'll take it from here."

"Are you sure?" Spencer asked as Troy and John hurried up the hill toward Whitney.

"Go!" I said. "Now, please."

He left without another word.

I pressed the radio button on my phone. "Managers, this is Vicky Valentine. We caught the alien. Guests are upset and are leaving quickly. Please man your stations until everything normalizes again."

Seconds later, Mr. Tracker came on the dispatch. "There are reports the alien was taken off Venusville. Is that true?"

"No," I said. My next words would get the criminals here. The real managers would stay at their stations. "The alien is in a cargo container in the gully next to the swing rides. Mr. Gamble and Mr. Craft lured him into the container under my instructions. I've already sent them to meet the transporters to get it out of here."

"Sounds good," Mr. Tracker replied. "We'll hold the park until you release us."

"Thank you," I said with a bit of a heavy throat. Oddly, it just hit me that I had several villains coming to get me. I fingered my stun gun. Hopefully, Whitney would follow the plan and rescue me.

I paced for five minutes or so. A rustling sounded, and my heart jumped. "Hello?"

No one replied.

I moved toward some footsteps coming from behind me. "Who's there?"

I regretted asking. The fake alien appeared. He stomped on the top of the cargo container.

I stepped back. "Don't play games with me," I ordered. "I know you're a fake."

The alien didn't say anything. He jumped off the cargo container and stopped in front of me. I pulled out my stun gun and steadied it. "Don't."

He came at me with an open palm. I stepped to the side and chanced a kick at his knee with my bad knee. The man inside the costume groaned and fell down. I held my gun on him. "I said, 'Don't.' Give up . . . I know the plan, and everyone else will soon."

The alien snarled in a pathetic attempt to scare me. I shot him in the chest, but it had no effect. He hit me square on the side of the jaw, and I fell to the ground.

The alien jumped on me, but I put my foot against his chest just in time and pushed him to the side. He fell beside me.

"Stop it." I slammed my fist against the side of his head, but I didn't think I hurt him.

The metal tips of his fake claws against my neck dug into my skin. Fake was a relative term. The sharp metal was just as lethal as the real thing.

He put his weight on me, and I couldn't breathe. Perhaps I had learned Molly's bad habits and a little stupidity. She'd have tried to fight them all, too. I thrashed about, but my right arm was pinned, and my left wasn't strong enough to do any damage to the suit.

Spots formed on my eyes. I'd be dead soon. Sleeping forever.

From the side, a foot hit the alien in the head. He rolled off me and fell to the ground unconscious.

Standing over me, Spencer extended his hand. "Come on. Get up." He pulled me to my feet.

"He's out for a bit." I stumbled. My head was spinning.

Spencer put his hand under my arm.

The dizziness subsided, and I patted him on the back. "Thanks. I was stupid for thinking I could handle them."

"Where're the managers?"

"I was wrong. They sent their goon. Let's see who it is."

"You were right too often, Miss Valentine," someone announced. "And it will cost you."

The managers came through the swing ride toward me. Mr. Tracker and Ms. Hately were in the front. I had expected them. However, I didn't see Mr. Carver. Instead, I saw Mrs. Jeffery, who headed the cleaning crew, and Mr. Arlee, in charge of garbage and water.

"It's no surprise you were being groomed to take over Valentine Entertainment," Mr. Tracker said.

"Were? Sounds like you have this worked out."

"No," Mr. Tracker said, "you thought you had this worked out. I figured out you had the alien. It was just a matter of time before you tried something."

"So why did you come?" I pointed to the fake alien. "Didn't you send him to get us?"

"One thing we couldn't ignore was our greed. The real alien is quite valuable, and we hoped the fake alien would kill you before we came."

"Kill us?" Spencer croaked.

"Yes." Tracker moved to raise his weapon.

I reacted instantly with several stun shots to their chests. Mr. Tracker and Ms. Hately snarled as they fell to the ground. The other two ran to the side and fired their weapons at us.

Shots ripped past us. I twisted when one hit my shoulder, and I fell to the ground hard. My skin felt as if it boiled around the open wound as the blood pushed out. Blood was everywhere in an instant, but it didn't slow me.

I scrambled to my feet as Spencer pushed me into cover.

"They really shot you," he said.

"Modified stun gun," I muttered. "They'll only have a few shots, but it hurts like a mother—"

"How do you know all this stuff?"

"I was on the surface during the alien war, and I helped Molly of Mars. Didn't you know that? I learned a lot."

"I thought my father's life was dangerous. You take it to a new level. How're we going to get out of here?"

"That I don't know."

Several more shots whizzed over our heads. I pushed my hand against my wound, but it was bleeding a decent amount. I needed to stop the bleeding.

"Shoot my shoulder." I handed him the stun gun. "The burn will stop my bleeding."

"Shoot you?" he replied. "Are you crazy?"

"Do it or I'll bleed to death. Please."

"Are you sure this'll stop the bleeding?" He held the stun gun against my shoulder.

"Do it!"

He hesitated.

"We're coming to get you and your pebble shooter," Mrs. Jeffery taunted. "You can't hide for long."

"Just do it, Spencer." I didn't want it to happen, but it would work.

Zang! He fired the gun, and lightning blistered through my shoulder. The pain was intense and sharp. In my rolling agony, I heard Spencer fire the gun elsewhere, and then he ducked down close beside me.

Eventually, the pain lessoned. I rubbed my shoulder. The blister hurt, but it wasn't bleeding. "Where are they?" I asked.

"Three are coming in close. The other is near the cargo container. I think he's getting the real alien."

"He can't carry it away unless he has a pocketful of treats and the skin of an elephant. It would shred him apart."

"No," he said. "I think Tracker is thinking of using the forklift and the box over there. Watch out!"

Spencer fired three shots, but the other three managers converged too quickly. Spencer put his hands up, and I rolled to the side to escape to somewhere. But I was caught, too. I hit the boot of Mrs. Jeffery and stopped.

"Defeat is such a sad sight," she said.

I looked up at her. I must've looked pathetic. My shoulder was fizzling with pain, and my leg wasn't doing much better all of a sudden. I could only imagine my sad look.

She aimed the gun at my face.

"Freeze, everyone!" a loud voice said.

From the path above, a half-dozen soldiers ran down toward us.

Mrs. Jeffery took her eyes off me, and I kicked her in the knee. She fell to the ground. I rolled to my knees, swung my arm hard, and chopped my hand into her neck. She gasped for air. I punched her across the jaw.

I shook my hand as I got to my feet. "Such a sad sight, yeah."

Ms. Hately and Mr. Arlee gave up quickly. The fake alien and Mr. Tracker didn't. They ran through the swing ride. I started after them immediately.

"Wait!" Spencer followed me.

"Vicky!" Whitney screamed through the park. "Get them!"

Her encouragement energized me even further. No one messes with a Valentine park on my watch, and no one sets up my friend to take the fall.

It didn't take long for Spencer to sprint past me and tackle Tracker. They wrestled as I came up, but Spencer was vicious. He slammed Tracker against the food cart several times.

I grabbed Tracker's arm just as he was going to hit Spencer. Spencer ended Tracker with a solid punch to the jaw. The older man crumbled, dazed.

A flash of the fake alien appeared as he entered the bat cave ride. I left Spencer with Tracker. The last piece to the puzzle was within my reach.
Chapter 22

The Venerable Vicky of Venus

I rushed into the cave without any thought to my safety. Unexpectedly, the alien didn't attack me, and this caused the hairs on my arms to stand on end. Danger was near. Instead of fighting me as I expected, it stalked me, and I was stupid enough to continue.

I took several steps. Each one caused my muscles to contract. I anticipated an attack, and I didn't have a weapon. I really didn't know what my plan was going to be. The only goal in my mind was to stop the conspiracy completely. I remembered my adventure with Molly. Her goal was the same in stopping the alien syndicate, but for her, it dragged on for months. I didn't want to repeat the torture she went through.

I walked through the ride and scrambled down a series of stairs deeper into the ride's belly. It was dark as a bat cave normally would be. The roller coaster was still, and I scanned it for any movement.

Several seconds went by, and it was completely quiet. No sounds at all. But I smelled smoke and melting plastic.

Suddenly, the floodlights for the entire ride flashed on. The cave lit completely, and the fire alarm sounded.

The smoke was everywhere along the ceiling. I saw the fire on the other end and ran toward it, after grabbing an extinguisher off the wall. By the time I reached the fire, it was ablaze above my head. I shot the stream of foam and put it out.

"The alien suit. Who were you?" I kicked softly at the burnt pile. The melting mess covered the tip of my shoe. "Gross."

"Miss Valentine," Spencer said from the rear door. "Are you okay?"

"No," I said. "The alien got away. Did you see anyone leave?"

"No," he said. "The guests are coming back in, so it's impossible."

"Really? Why are they coming back?"

"Another alien sighting, and everyone is converging. Remember, you caused it."

"Oh yeah. Hmm," I grumbled. "We better get back to those Martian Command guys. They'll want to talk to me. I have lots to report to them."

He waved me to the door. "I'll guard you."

I moved to exit the ride, but I stopped at the doorway where Spencer stood and looked into his eyes. He smiled at me, and it won me over. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed him hard for a long, few seconds.

As I pulled away, he smiled from ear to ear. "W-W-Why?" he muttered weakly.

I giggled like a four-year-old because I was impressed that my kiss tongue-tied him. "I just thought the hero and the heroine should kiss at the end of an adventure. Molly never did, and I thought it was a shame."

"I might have to report you for a demerit, Miss Valentine."

"Oh, shut up." I punched him playfully on the arm.

The investigation by Martian Command proved long and tiring. My mother flew in from Mars and handled most of the details. She also handled not talking to me much and leaving at the first available chance. She was always tough concerning business stuff. However, she gave me a big hug on her farewell and said I had "behaved like a Valentine," though, I'd never seen her punch and stun anyone as I had.

I gave everyone an account of what was happening. As I expected, we were able to pin down all the overbuying to the four managers' departments or to orders placed by them. I didn't see any other departments in which this occurred, so the police cleared everyone else. Even Mr. Carver, but my mom fired him promptly when she found out about the threats and the push.

The alien in the costume was never found, and because of the fire, nor was any DNA. It made me question who the fifth member of the team had been. Scarily, the local police were cooperative and didn't cause trouble for us. I had expected some type of payback and wondered why it didn't come. I held my tongue and kept from accusing them of anything because they dropped the charges against Whitney. The blame fell on the four managers and the mystery man.

Investigator Samuel and Martian Command shipped the snake creature to Mars for destruction. Along with Whitney's testimony about the zoo, the courts had enough evidence for a search warrant. Another dead end. The alien-viewing building, or the one Whitney and I suspected, was empty. This mystery worried me the most. It meant we hadn't caught the masterminds of the plot.

All four managers refused to talk about anything other than the crimes with the supplies. Nothing about the fake alien. Nothing about the zoo. And definitely nothing about their deal with the local police.

A week later, I was excited about the day ahead. The park was reopening, and the crowd was enthusiastic about Stellar Mountain's return, though our alien excitement had passed when we certified that no aliens existed in the park.

"So you decided to show up today?" Whitney said, walking up to me in the dining hall of Vacationland.

I sipped on my orange juice. "I figured I could show my face here again. My leg's better."

"Having four days of paid vacation doesn't hurt."

"Vacation? Hardly. Three separate surgeries and a painful day of stretching exercises. I almost didn't make it back."

"I held down the fort," Roxanne said. She walked up with Becky, Troy, and Spencer. "It was easy being Strict Vick."

I smiled at her. "Easy. So you could handle being Rigid Roxy, devil woman of the park. It's not an easy chore."

"Roxy was pretty hard-core," Becky said. "I almost got a demerit."

"You didn't," Roxanne said. "Not even close."

"Don't be shy about it, Roxy." I jumped up. "I can just see the future of the park now." I did my best Roxanne walk combined with robot arms. "Policy says you need to tuck in your shirt and tidy your workstation. Demerits will be dispensed according to Miss Vicky's orders."

Roxanne put her hands on her hips. "I don't walk like that."

I crossed my arms as Troy always did and continued my robot voice. "Demerit for back talk. Rigid Roxy serves Master Vicky."

Everyone laughed at my joke.

"Seriously," Spencer said to me. "Everyone owes you an apology. Your rules and your policies really got our scholarships out of a jam and caught the criminals."

"Thanks," I said. "I just wanted to teach all of you—"

"To fill out our reports in the proper order . . ." Spencer cut me off.

"To do the Barley the Bear jump, jump, hop, jump, hop in sync . . ." Becky added.

"To tuck in our shirts and wear our belts to the regs . . ." Troy continued.

"To call you by your title at the office . . ." Roxanne shook her finger at me.

"And to realize that the leader sometimes has to make tough decisions even if it hurts. Thanks for using a favor to get me back." Whitney finished the chorus.

"A favor for a Phavor seemed poetic." I faked a bow. "The small things might seem stupid, but they leave an impression on the guests."

"Save us the speeches about the park," Whitney replied. "We get it. You have to come to the party tonight in Troy's suite. It'll be off the hook. He got the new Travers album."

"I love that band!" I said. "All bonus tracks?"

"Yes," Becky replied. "Please come. I heard you had the new pair of Geobonni heels. I want to borrow them."

"How do you know we're the same size?" I put my hands on my hips.

Becky flicked her hair over her shoulder. "A little birdy told me that you and I are size sevens."

"Roxy," I said. "Telling them my sizes."

"Not me," she said.

"Whitney?" I turned with a joking scowl on my face.

Whitney smiled. "Busted. Remember I said I was jealous of your outfits. By the way, Becks, she's a size sleek, long."

"Oh my gosh, I have to wear the Gloria Boodawn dress then. I heard it was pink."

I threw my hands up. "I was raided. I'll bring it for you."

"Are you crazy?" Becky said. "I'm coming to your suite to get ready. Who knows what else you have in your closet?"

"Your tax for being Strict Vick," Roxanne said. "I told her about the dress."

"Then Becky will need to bring over her dresses," I said. "I would like to see myself in that yellow miniskirt you have."

Spencer and Troy both blushed.

"Oh, sorry." I grinned. "Let's not distract the boys from their work today."

Everyone laughed, and I knew I'd made the friends I'd been hoping for on the flight into Venusville. The interns didn't earn a demerit in the four days I was gone, and Roxanne said they did it to show their appreciation for what I'd done for them. They accepted me and learned how to do their jobs properly.

I learned a lesson myself. I switched the duty rosters back to the way Dextra had originally assigned them and removed the demerits. The interns would have more fun learning a new trade. Even if it wasn't an ideal business move, it was ideal for Vacationland. I was looking forward to the rest of the semester and watching them grow as a group. I was looking forward to being their leader again.

And I'd start now.

"Courtesy breakfast is over in five minutes, interns," I announced to everyone. "Gather for the roundup out front!"

All the interns groaned. I was excited.
VICKY'S VILE VICTORY

by Wyatt Davenport
Chapter 1

My Monopoly Just Needs a Hotel

Outside of my theme park, Vacationland, on the floating colony of Venusville in the acidic clouds of Venus . . .

Vicky Valentine's my name, and corporate affairs is my game. Or at least I wanted it to be when I grew up. I'm fourteen, but I'll be the head of Valentine Entertainment Corp. when my mom gives me our family's company. I just needed to prove to her that I could handle the reins.

No easy task. For the second semester in a row, my mom had assigned me to run Vacationland, one of our family's many theme parks, arcades, and family restaurants scattered across the solar system. Vacationland is in the colony of Venusville, which floats in the clouds of—you guessed it—the planet Venus. Large antigravity engines hold up the gigantic colony, and a single tether, stretching several miles to the rocky ground, keeps it on a constant course. For anyone approaching in a space shuttle, the colony's exterior shimmers yellow and silver—truly an awesome sight.

It was the start of a new day when I stood in the main corridor of Venusville, looking up at the hotel next to Vacationland. Smugly pleased with myself, I thought I had a great idea—my greatest idea so far. The hotel was for sale, and I thought it would be a terrific acquisition for the theme park. I was really looking forward to proving I could get "better than an A," my mom's words. She was great at setting impossible expectations.

To purchase the hotel, I wouldn't be allowed to use any money other than Vacationland money. So with all the profits from my first semester, I planned to flip this old hotel into a premium destination. It didn't surprise me that no one else at Vacationland was excited about the idea.

The business side of me was thinking bigger. If I made a deal to acquire the hotel, Vacationland would have the one thing not available to any other attraction on Venus. We could offer the full package of transportation, entertainment, and boarding for one low price. It was the golden goose for theme parks. No one thought it possible in the floating city within Venus's acidic clouds.

"You're really weird. You know that, don't you?"

"Huh?" I took my eyes off the hotel to see Whitney Phavors next to me. She had dark reddish-brown hair and brown eyes. My age, she was on the med team and one of my best friends on Venusville. "Just thinking."

"You're ogling that old dump like you should be ogling the boys over there." She turned my shoulders in the other direction. "Are you sure you're a teenager?"

"I'm three months younger than you." My eyes went directly to a boy one year older than me: Spencer Craft. Of the five boys in the group, only Spencer was my forbidden fruit, and he hated me now. Whitney had let it slip that if I ever married an earthling, my mother would never give me the company. He had avoided me ever since, upset that I had led him on.

"Are those the new boys in the shop?" I asked innocently.

"Don't play coy, Vicky. I know you still like him."

"No."

"You do. And you know every one of the new team members by name."

Of course, I did. I never let anyone start without knowing his or her employment file. I still liked Spencer, too, even after his name-calling and screaming at me. "He hasn't talked to me in six weeks. I have to send Roxanne if I need something from the shop."

"Sorry. I wasn't thinking when I said what I did."

"I wish you hadn't. The dates we had were so romantic, and we had so much fun."

"He's an earthling, though. You know your mother's rules."

I nodded solemnly. "I know the rules, but I could still have a little fun with him before we split at the end of this semester."

"You little tramp," she kidded me. "You still amaze me. Just when I settle on you being stuck up . . . you say something like that."

"I was talking about our fun at the arcades. It's his fault for thinking teenage love was lifelong."

"Sometimes it is."

"I don't know."

In reality, I had the biggest crush on Spencer. I wanted to fall in love with him. He was the only person who ever made me think for a split second about giving up Valentine Entertainment. My mother had some odd prejudices. They went back decades to when Mars and Earth fought a war. I thought the alien war had rid us of those biases. Maybe, but not for her. She stubbornly held on to them because an earthling had killed my grandpa.

"Has he talked about me?" I asked. "Said anything at the parties?"

Whitney frowned. "He refers to you as 'the cow,' so you probably aren't creating a soft spot. The others have started, so it's becoming entrenched in the group."

My heart sank. "At least they're talking about me."

"Always the joker." Whitney patted me on the back.

"What about his father?" I asked. "Has he bugged Spencer?"

"Not for a few weeks. Spencer told him off again and said he wasn't going to take anything to his uncle."

"I still can't believe his parents are in the mob. I'm proud that he doesn't want that life."

"He says he hasn't talked to his uncle on Venus yet, but family has a way of drawing you in," Whitney said. "Something will come up in his life where he'll need his family, and then he's in the mob. Once you're in, you can't escape it."

"We'll have to make sure that doesn't happen."

"That's your solution." She pointed to the hotel. "So do you really want to buy that dump? How can that be good for Vacationland?"

"That dump will be a Vacationland hotel in two months," I said. "I'll knock down the wall between it and the loading dock, create a special entrance for hotel guests, and run the rides early and exclusively for them."

Whitney started to say something, sassy no doubt, but she stopped. "That's actually a good idea. I'm glad I thought of it."

"You thought of it?" I said in disbelief.

"Yes, a week ago I said, 'That dump is for sale,' and you said, 'Oh.'"

"How is that an idea?" I was confused.

"I pointed the building out to you. If not for me, you'd have no idea."

I laughed. "Does that mean if I get back together with Spencer, I can thank you?"

"Exactly. I got you thinking about him again."

I never stopped thinking about him. I wanted to say it, but I didn't. I didn't need Whitney trying to make up for the slip of the tongue that broke us up. It would hurt too much.

Lightning cracked outside the colony. The sunrise caused the whole colony to glow a light yellow color. I was beginning to get used to the sky glowing yellow the entire day, not like the blue sky of Earth or the reddish hue of Mars. Venus had its horrors with sulfuric acid rain and skin-melting temperatures, but it was also beautiful at the same time. "Did you see the glowing clouds last night?"

"Yeah, it's just lightning in the distance."

"I know. But it's still neat."

"If you say—"

Someone screamed from inside the hotel. Whitney and I turned and stared, hoping for some indication of what was happening. I walked up to a window, cupped my hands over my eyes, and looked through.

"Don't do that." Whitney pawed at me. "That's how you get in trouble . . . by getting involved."

I pushed her hand away. "Being involved is how you have adventures and learn. If someone is in trouble in my new hotel, I need to find out who and why."

"Your hotel? Look at the chops on you. What do you see?"

"Nothing." I moved toward the front door and tried to open it. It was locked.

Whitney pulled me back so I'd step away from the door. "I don't hear anything. Maybe it was an echo from somewhere else." She looked around.

I pushed her away again. "I don't think it was an echo, but if so, where did it come from?"

"The park. A ride."

"Like a passenger on the jet coaster," I said. "Remember, we're coming to open the park."

"Oh," she said. "That makes some sense."

"Some." I knocked on the door. "Anyone in there?"

There was no response. Whitney's eyes pleaded with me not to proceed further. The sound might've come from somewhere else, as she said, but I could have sworn it was from within the hotel.

We had started to walk away when I heard the scream again. It definitely came from inside.

"Did you hear . . . ?" Whitney began.

I swung into direct action, hurried toward the door, and kicked the lock hard with my sneaker. The door burst open, and I stepped inside.

"Vicky, are you crazy?" Whitney called as I entered the lobby.

From my research last night, I knew the hotel had been closed for the past seven months, but the dust wasn't as bad as I had expected. Unlike many things on Mars or Venus, this place had an old feeling to it. It was as if someone had purposely created it to feel that way.

Almost perversely, as I scanned for the person who had screamed, I thought of a thousand remodeling ideas for Vacationland. Maybe Whitney was right about my weirdness.

"No one's in the lobby," I said. "Come on, chicken."

She came in a few seconds later. Though she tried to put on a brave face, I could see her fear.

I waved at her. "This isn't the scariest place in the world."

"Right now it is." She came up to me and grabbed my arm for security.

"You realize I won't be much help to you in a fistfight. If you want to go . . ."

"And leave you? Annoyingly, just three months with you has given me some sense of . . . something."

"Honor, morality, decency?"

"Worse. Inspiration. You've inspired me with Molly of Mars."

I laughed. "Molly visited for a couple of days, and you gushed. It's not my fault you were starstruck."

"It wasn't just meeting her that inspired me. She motivates you. I guess that rubbed off on me."

We crept into the next room. "I don't know . . . you know I came here to escape her shadow."

"You didn't like being the passenger? I can understand."

"I love her to death," I said, "but I needed to do something on my own."

"Crazy is not an accomplishment. Why're we in here?"

I didn't respond but listened intently to the sounds around me. The pedestrians outside created a faint din we could hear in the lobby. The creaking and popping of the heating ducts broke the silence inside the hotel. My nerves teetered on the edge of freaking out. One fright, and I might run out with Whitney.

Another scream came from upstairs.

I was stronger than I thought. I tore through the lobby to the stairs and ran two steps at a time to the top. I stopped when two hallways opened in front of me. "Which way?" I asked Whitney.

She stopped halfway up the stairs. "Out the front door."

"Chicken. Remember your new inspiration." I started cautiously down the right hallway. Some of the doors were cracked open. I kicked each one in as I crept by, but I didn't see anything. I was nervous about going into the individual rooms for fear of being trapped.

"What're you doing?" Whitney skittered behind me at the front of the hall.

"Checking around. Shh." I opened the door to the next room. Nothing.

I thought I heard something two rooms down and ran toward the sound. I flexed my hands, building up courage. After a few seconds, I pushed the door open slowly.

The empty room overlooked Vacationland. The view drew me to the window as if it was a drug. It showed how great the hotel would be for the park. The roller coasters were starting up. The neon signs were flittering on. And the crowds were assembling at the entrance. It would be another great day—

Wham! My feet dropped out from under me. A blanket, the same color as the floor, wrapped around me as I fell a dozen feet, slamming onto a table on the level below. I thrashed at the blanket caught around me.

"Whit!" I barely got out. "Help."

She didn't come right away. I panicked and threw the blanket to the floor. I looked upward, feeling my aching tailbone. Someone had cut a hole in the floor above and placed the blanket over it to mask the opening. Someone wanted someone to step on the trap.

My back pained mightily. I'd kill that practical joker. I tried to get up, but spots formed before my eyes. The back of my head already had a knot on it. I lay back. "Help!"

"Vicky?" Spencer said as he came to the side of the table. He brushed back the hair from my face. "What're you doing?"

"I heard screams, and Whit and I investigated."

"Looks like someone set you up," he said. "Probably a hidden camera around here somewhere."

"Was it you?" I asked.

"No. Why would you say that?"

"Because you hate me."

He averted his eyes from my gaze. "There's too much paperwork if my boss gets hurt."

I couldn't help giggling as I slowly sat up. "I'm not your boss for another two hundred feet."

"We saw you go in like a couple of burglars. I came to see if you were okay. The guys are with Whitney."

"Did they see anything? Anyone?"

"No. Do you need a med team?"

"I don't think so." I still hurt, but the pain seemed bearable. I slid off the table. "Valentines have a bit of steel in our DNA."

"Cold as steel. I'm aware of that."

"Spencer, don't—"

"I have to get to work. I can't afford to be late, Miss Valentine."

I wanted to hug him, but he held his arms tight against his body, his posture standoffish. Just like that, he was mad at me again.

I put my hand on his elbow. "Thank you for coming to help me."

"I have to get to work. If I'm late . . . my boss is a bit strict." He brushed past me and walked out the door.

The other boys reported that no one was in the hotel. Everyone thought it was a cruel practical joke. I had my doubts. I was too upset about Spencer's cold reply to call the police or do anything further. If it were a practical joke, I'd find out soon enough when it hit the network. Maybe I'd get a laugh out of my skinny butt dropping like a sack of potatoes. I knew Spencer would.
Chapter 2

I Know What I'm Doing

"You fell through the ceiling, and you still want to purchase the property?" Roxanne Larson said. The petite, brown-haired girl was my personal assistant and dear friend from Mars. If I could rely on anyone on Venus, Roxanne was the person.

She was also highly practical. Her history as a tech head was probably the reason. Either a machine worked or it didn't. Specs were everything, but lately, she was catching on to the business side of things. I wouldn't hesitate to leave her in charge for an afternoon.

"Someone was playing a practical joke," I said in my office. "Did you look over the numbers I gave you? How can you doubt that I'd still want to purchase it?"

"Projections are one thing," she replied from the other side of my desk. "But I don't see any estimates on guests falling from floor to floor. The place is a lemon."

"Someone cut a hole."

"What about the fact that it was a failed hotel already?" Dextra Devereaux said from the doorway.

"We didn't have a relationship with them then," I replied. "It was overpriced."

"It was overpriced for a reason," Dextra said. "I've already tried to buy it twice. Your mom didn't like the numbers."

I showed them both a picture I had brought from Mars. It was of me in front of the new swan boats I purchased when I was eight. "I bought the swan boats for Acadia City. Now the swan boats are a must-see in Acadia City because of me. The hotel will do that for Vacationland."

"Your mother doesn't see it that way."

I shook my head. "I don't need my mom's approval of my plan. She'll just see the results."

"Miss Valentine," Dextra said. "You're footing the scholarships as collateral. It's risky."

"I won't use the scholarship funds with my offer limit. It's just in case."

"But you've asked for access to them. If you offer too much, we'll have to use them—unless you ask your mother for the money."

"She won't hear about this," I replied. "If we use money we've already made, we can buy the hotel without corporate interference."

"Why even risk the money?" Roxanne asked.

"My risk isn't a risk at all. I'll buy the hotel and refill the funds with the rest of this semester's profits. I probably won't even need them."

Roxanne shook her head.

"The hotel can make Vacationland premier," I said. "Premier parks in Valentine Entertainment get special status. If we get that, the employees will be paid more, and interns will get bonuses and scholarships."

"And you get 'better than an A.'"

Roxanne's words stung me.

"Don't risk it to impress your mother," she said.

"Rox . . . Miss Larson," I said. "My motives are pure. I might not even get it. My meeting with the owner is in a half hour. Like his hotel rooms, it might be out of our price range."

"I'd keep away from the scholarship money," Roxanne warned again.

"Don't you trust me?" I asked.

"Some of it is my money to use when I go to college. I need that money."

"I'll get you that money and even more."

"Don't risk it, please."

I looked at Dextra for support, but she didn't say anything.

"Trust me," I said, but from the uncommitted eyes of Roxanne and Dextra, I realized they were hoping for the one thing I wasn't: a greedy owner who wouldn't accept my first offer or even my last.
Chapter 3

The Art of Negotiation

I arrived ten minutes early for the meeting with the owner of the hotel located next to Vacationland. I didn't see anyone around, but I went in without waiting. I didn't understand Roxanne's and Dextra's concerns. I would double-check that the hotel wasn't falling apart. I was sure the hole being created in the floor had been someone's idea of a practical joke.

In the room where I had fallen, I noticed the hole wasn't torn or splintered. It had hard edges, so someone had cut it. From my hours with Molly in her garage, I recognized the cut pattern as being made by a plasma cutter. Molly was my best friend on Mars, and she could do anything she wanted to do and do it well. I'd never seen anyone like her. I wanted to impress her, too.

Something glinted in the corner of the room, and I moved over to it. Underneath a table, I found three small canisters for plasma gas. I tucked the finger-sized bottles into my jacket, thinking they would give me a clue as to who had played the joke on me, though I didn't know what clue just yet.

"Miss Valentine," someone said from the doorway.

I jumped. "Jeepers." I held back from swearing because I knew it was the owner. "Mr. Snear, you almost gave me a heart attack."

"Yes, I'm Mr. Snear. I should say the same thing about your intrusion into my hotel. The lock is broken."

"It was broken when I came. I found this hole in the floor. You've been vandalized. Do you know anyone who would want you hurt?"

"Vandals in here again? I'll have to contact the police once more. A bad practical joke, from the looks of it. How could anyone miss this hole? Only a fool would be dumb enough to walk—"

"I understand," I replied, feeling embarrassed about my fall. But I had a valid excuse. I had dreams in my eyes, thinking about the view over Vacationland. Besides, a blanket the same color as the floor had been placed over the opening to disguise it. "So should we get down to business?"

"Sure. I understand you're running Vacationland for the semester. Are you old enough to negotiate on behalf of the park?"

I felt a bit small as I walked up to him. I shook his hand and handed him a business card. "I can assure you my money is as good as my mother's. She runs Valentine Entertainment."

He looked at the card. It was as professional as any he'd see. If he could get past my being a teenager, we could start.

"You'd pay cash? No funny business."

"Funny business, Mr. Snear? If you aren't serious, I'm sure there's someone else who would take my money."

"Any properties next door to Vacationland?"

"No," I admitted, "but I could hire a contractor to redesign our entrance with a lovely set of hotel rooms and make it even grander."

"Permits take time."

Permits wouldn't intimidate me. "It could be done. The hotel would be a luxury for us."

"My hotel just needs a modest redesign. You'd be up and running faster and cheaper."

"We can go back and forth all day, Mr. Snear. I have an offer, and I hope you can accept."

"Okay, let me see it."

I handed it to him. "Pending a valid inspection. I'm not going to purchase a lemon."

He scanned the sheet. I could tell his eyes went directly to the bottom line. For a few seconds he didn't respond, probably thinking about a counteroffer, but I knew I had him.

"Fifty percent more," he said. "Your offer is well below my asking price."

I pressed my lips together. Maybe he was here to negotiate harder than I thought.

"My offer is fair," I replied, though I knew it was below the asking price. I was hoping for a miracle. I really didn't want to include the scholarship funds.

"Forty percent more, then."

I played it cool, but my nerves tingled. Though Roxanne's concern affected me, I reassured myself that I was right. "I think my offer works for the both of us."

"Forty percent more is fair."

We stared at one another. I would get the hotel below asking price, but I'd use the scholarship money. A big chunk of it.

"Miss Valentine?"

I fake looked down at my tablet. I wanted him to think I was smart. Really, I was nervous and wanted to prove to the others that my plan would work. I didn't like Roxanne's and Dextra's doubts. It insulted me more than I let on.

"Okay." I knew I was buckling too quickly. I had to prove them wrong. "You drive a hard bargain. I'll have the inspection done, and we can finalize soon."

"Thank you. I'm relieved."

"Relieved?" I grew cautious. "Is there something I don't know about?"

"No, Miss Valentine. I've been looking forward to retiring to Saturn. I didn't think I could sell this quickly."

"Very well, then." We shook hands and parted ways. I hurried back to Vacationland. On the way, like a rock, the worst feeling ever crouched in the pit of my stomach.

Buyer's remorse.
Chapter 4

Inspecting My Patience

Two days after I made my offer to the owner of the hotel, Becky, Whitney, Roxanne, and I went inside the hotel for the official inspection. I had to make a down payment to ensure that no one would undercut my bid. I wrote a sizeable check and gave it to Mr. Snear. I'd lose it if anything went wrong.

I asked Inspector Sidney Samuel to approve the final piece of the deal, and he agreed to do it. I knew him from the investigations into an accident at our park in the first semester. He said he owed me a favor, so I cashed in.

"Miss Valentine, this hotel will be amazing," Becky said as she ran her hand along the lobby's desk. "I can see myself as desk manager. Hint. Hint."

"I was thinking about Troy," I said, joking with her. She still made comments about how I had made her the mascot of Vacationland for the first few weeks. My defense was that she was great at it. "Because of how well you did, Honey the Bear will be the official greeter of the hotel."

"Oh, shut up." Becky tossed an old pen at me.

I ducked it and laughed with Whitney. "By the time I remodel the hotel, we'll be leaving anyway. I'm hoping to have the hotel as a premier location in our company."

"Better than an A," Whitney muttered. "That's all I've heard about the past two nights at dinner. You better improve your dinner conversation."

"Sorry," I said. "I'm just excited. Plus, no one will have dinner with me other than you and Roxy."

"Lucky us," Roxanne said. "I'm missing the boys."

"Spencer won't even stay in the same room with me," I said. "You don't have to go with me. I can grab something and eat at the suite."

Whitney waved her hand. "Don't be stupid. If someone breaks up with a friend, everyone breaks up."

"We're still working on Spencer, but it's not easy," Becky said. "I would suffer with you, but I'm kinda seeing Troy more. Exclusively, I think."

"Exclusively?" I repeated. "That sounds very interesting."

"So far, it is. He's a sensitive person. More than I would've thought. He took me on the Venus love ride to the planet's surface last week. So romantic with all the colors and the acid falls."

I was jealous. I should've been on that ride with Spencer. "Tell me everything."

"Are you sure?" Whitney replied.

Her comment confused me. "Why wouldn't I be sure?"

"We've been trying to . . . keep that stuff . . ." Becky's voice trailed off.

"Quiet," Whitney said, finishing her sentence. "So you wouldn't miss Spencer."

"What?" I said. "I would love to hear about your romances. Even yours, Roxanne."

"I had a date with Billy Foster," she said. "Last week."

"The young guy from the zoo?"

She nodded. "And Joey Turnbull. And Robin Perkins."

"Three?" I said.

Roxanne blushed. "And Kirk Lancaster in the repair shop . . . I've been testing the market. I've been busy the past two months."

"Oh, my gosh! You can't keep that stuff from me." I was beyond shocked. "And you, Whitney?"

"I'm still taking my time," she replied. "I test the market a bit differently."

Roxanne's blush deepened. "If you grew up locked in deep space freighters for months at a time, you'd make friends fast, too. I usually had two days at the ports to play with kids. Then I'd leave."

"Sounds like light speed fast friends to me," I kidded. "Please, don't spare me the details. I love to hear all of them. It makes me miss Spencer a little less."

"Why don't you just tell him you think your mother's rule is dumb?" Roxanne asked.

"It is dumb," I said, "but I can't ignore it."

"Why can't you?" Becky asked. "Is it really more important to be a bigot?"

"I'm not a bigot. My mom is . . . sorta. But she really isn't. She employs earthlings. Her vice president is an earthling. I just can't marry an earthling if I want to be the new owner. You know that."

"We don't like it," Becky replied. "Spencer needs to know you aren't just using him."

I shook my head. "Even if we're never going to see each other again after this semester? He's being picky."

"So just lie to him," Whitney said.

"I can't do that. You know that or I would've lied when he confronted me. I'm looking for more than just a quick date. I'd rather be heartbroken than guilty when I leave."

"So noble," Roxanne said with an edge to her voice.

"It's the truth."

"The version you want us to remember," Roxanne said. "The overriding reason is you don't want your mother mad at you."

"Who would want their parents mad at them?"

"Me," Roxanne said. "Remember, I turned my parents in to the authorities for abusing me. You don't see that your mother controls you with her rules—rules designed to mold you. You're her slave, after a fashion."

"Slave? No one controls me," I said angrily. "Why're you busting my chops?"

Roxanne's face turned sour. "Maybe because your mother issues are jeopardizing our scholarships with this hotel purchase."

"Roxanne!" I shouted. "That information is secret."

"Part of this purchase includes our scholarships?" Becky said hotly.

"Really?" Whitney said with some wrath.

I glared at Roxanne. "Miss Larson has no authority to reveal that information."

"But she did," Whitney said. "Out with it."

"Your schooling isn't at risk," I said. "A small part of the purchase is the scholarship money. But it's not a problem. We'll fund the scholarships with park admissions over the semester."

"Why even risk it for this dump?" Becky asked. "I'm sick to my stomach."

"Dump? You just said it would be—"

"She was being nice," Whitney interrupted. "Like I am now. I want to punch you in the face."

"Everyone is being overdramatic," I said. "I know my business. This is a slam-dunk winner. Don't you want scholarships and spending money?"

"We want to go to school so we don't have to do these jobs anymore," Roxanne said. "If you cost us that, forgiveness will occur at your grave."

That comment made me bristle. Anger grew deep within me. "Don't cross that line, Roxanne. I'm not doing anything stupid. Becky was impressed when she didn't know. Everyone will be when they see what I'm going to do with the hotel."

Roxanne didn't back down. "You aren't Kirkon Tibor . . . and even he lost everything. Vicky, you're getting in over your head."

Kirkon Tibor was the richest man on Mars, but he lost all his money because of his role in the alien war. He was in prison now. To think I'd end up in jail was stupidity.

"I'm not a criminal," I replied. I saw Inspector Samuel in the doorway, waiting for me. "The inspector is here. Girls, go into the kitchen and look at the hole I fell through. Maybe that will amuse you."

They walked away without saying anything further. I turned as Inspector Samuel walked up to me.

"Looks like you have your hands full with the hotel. More than the bargain you thought?"

I let out a quick breath. "You tell me."

"Did you really risk their money?"

"It's Vacationland money until they go to college."

"If you say so," he said, but it meant that he believed I'd done something stupid, too. "The inspection was flawless . . . aside from the hole in the ceiling. It was cut, so it can be labeled an improvement when you fix it. Nothing structural, and the remodel should only take three weeks. Just some paint and new dressings."

"Great, Mr. Samuel." I jumped up and down. "So I should sign the ownership papers tomorrow."

"I don't see a prob—"

A terrific crash sounded from where the girls had gone. Becky screamed, and I heard Whitney shout something. I didn't understand what.

Inspector Samuel and I ran down the hallway into the kitchen. Horrified at what I saw, I held back a scream of terror, and my stomach tightened hard. Becky cradled Roxanne in her arms while Whitney pushed her fingers into a large gash along her leg.

"What happened?" Inspector Samuel asked.

Whitney didn't looked up.

Becky turned to us. "The ceiling just caved. It's structurally unstable."

"Impossible!" I said. "Were you horsing around?"

"Vicky!" Whitney shouted. "Shut up and call an ambulance."

The inspector gestured for me to do it. My heart fell as I dialed the number. Within fifteen minutes, Roxanne was rushed to the hospital, unconscious. Whitney and Becky were freaking. Inspector Samuel had an odd concerned look on his face. And I was terrified.

Strangely, I didn't feel terrified for Roxanne. I was terrified that the hotel would fail the inspection, and then I would fail. It made me sick that I worried about business over Roxanne.

I'd become a monster.
Chapter 5

In Jeopardy . . .

What Is My Life, Alex?

Roxanne remained unconscious at the hospital overnight. I stayed with her. Becky and Whitney were also in the room, but neither of them talked to me. They thought Roxanne being injured was my fault. I didn't understand their logic.

Inspector Samuel worked into the night, which I appreciated, but he said that until the floor was fixed, he couldn't let the hotel pass inspection. I argued with him, but he wouldn't change his mind, no matter how much I begged.

In the morning, a note from our legal team telling me I wasn't supposed to be there forced me to leave the hospital. I walked directly to the office, though greasy and gross and in need of a shower. Before I could get cleaned up, I felt I had to straighten out the hotel situation. I wasn't going down without a fight.

I passed through the office without talking to anyone. I could tell Dextra wanted to say something to me, but I turned away. I shut the door to my office immediately. At the computer, I clicked open a note from my mother. I dreaded reading it. It could only mean bad news.

Dear Vicky,

The safety department forwarded me the accident of Roxanne Larson (Emp. No. 457546), and we can't proceed with the purchase of the property without a passing inspection. I am also disappointed with your purchase of the property without the authorization of Valentine Entertainment Corp. The bylaws do state purchases can be made without authorization if park funds are used. This is an improper application of the trust the corporation has given Vacationland.

Spare me the lecture, Mother. I had to look away from the screen for a few seconds to compose my thoughts.

In review of your proposal and the down payment you already sacrificed, it has been determined that VE Corp. will use company bylaws to apply punishment. (Note: the bylaws are what you used to make this purchase, so I'll enforce the bylaws on you.)

Shut up, Mom. I hated her tough love sometimes. I was terrified at what I might've lost, and she was taunting me.

The down payment will be applied as follows: Scholarship funding will be used first, since it is a bonus; Vacationland extra funds will be used second; and Vacationland future profits will be used third. The application of these funds is outlined in the purchase bylaws. Company funds cannot be used to fix the inspection problems. These should've been negotiated as part of the deal.

Mom

What? I slammed my fist against the desk. I looked up the company rules and realized my mother had applied each of them with perfect precision. My stomach dropped faster than Stellar Mountain down the side of Venusville. If I lost the down payment because of the failed inspection, I'd lose the scholarship money forever. Even if I made the money back at the park, my mother wouldn't give it back in full. She'd see the down payment loss and subtract it.

I paced around my desk three times. I didn't have any resources to fix the ceiling to get the hotel to pass inspection. If I failed in the purchase, my mother would bury the scholarships and me. That was her way of teaching me.

I sent the owner of the hotel a note and asked him for the repair estimate. I had to know the exact amount. I left the office a second later to head to my suite for a shower. I'd also get a bag together for Roxanne. She'd appreciate it.

"Hi, Miss Valentine," Troy said as I walked past.

"Hi!" I waved. He smiled, but my mind saw a boy who would punch me when he found out I had cost him his college money. "How are the gates?"

"A bit slow today."

"It'll pick up," I said, but I knew it wouldn't. We didn't have any more flights coming in today. I continued walking.

"Great day, Miss Valentine," April Jones said. "No complaints."

"Excellent, Miss Jones. Pass the compliments to the staff."

"I will." She smiled, but I knew the contempt she'd have when she found out what I had lost for her. I had ruined every intern's future.

My phone buzzed, and I saw that it was a note from the hotel owner. I opened it hoping for relief, but my stomach twisted. Ten thousand to fix the ceiling! I couldn't come close to getting that kind of money from my personal bank account.

I phoned the owner a second later. "Mr. Snear, how can you be serious with this cost? Are you trying to rip me off?"

"Miss Valentine, don't you dare accuse me of anything improper. If I can't pay the bill, I can't sell the hotel unless a new buyer pays for it. Tough luck with that on Venus."

"You know very well you can. You'd have my down payment if I back out. Don't play games with me."

"Miss Valentine, the entire down payment is going toward the medical bill for the girl who was hurt. I don't get a dime of it."

"Oh," I said, but I had already done the damage. I had angered him so he wouldn't do me a favor. "Can I get an extension to pay for the ceiling? Until the end of the week?"

"The deadline is tomorrow, and I can't go beyond that because I have another buyer in two days. It'll take some convincing, but if they pay for everything, I'll sell to them. If you can beat them, then we can talk again."

I begged for another five days, but he didn't waver. I think he saw my bid as ruined, so he was moving on. I understood: it was business.

I hung up.

"Miss Valentine, how's your day going?" Robin Perkins asked.

"Horribly!" I shouted. "Stop asking."

His face soured, and he continued on his way.

I didn't, though. My stomach finally failed me. I ran into the bathroom and threw up in the toilet multiple times. My jaw hurt by the time I finished. Sweating and upset, I collected myself at the sink and rinsed my mouth with huge mouthfuls of water. My blue eyes welled with tears. I tried to stop crying, but I bawled even more as I thought about the interns. Every one of them should and would be incredibly angry with me. I was so arrogant, so stupid.

"The mighty has fallen," Whitney said from the doorway.

I straightened myself and looked at her. I could feel my lip quivering, but I kept my face stolid. "I . . . I . . ." I wept standing in place. I could feel my shoulders bobbing up and down. I couldn't stop them.

Whitney came over and hugged me. "You lost the scholarship money, didn't you?"

I nodded. "Unless . . . unless I can pay for the ceiling repair. My mom is being extra strict about it."

"Should I say 'I told you so' now or later?" She rubbed my back.

"Now. I deserve it. Everyone will hate me forever."

"Probably, but I'll help you fix it."

"I can't fix it," I replied. "I really screwed up."

"If you're smart enough to get yourself into this mess, you're smart enough to get yourself out of it."

"How?"

"How much is the bill?"

"Over ten thousand."

"Wow!" she said. "This is a tough one. I have a hundred and twenty in my account."

"I have two thousand. Not nearly enough. Maybe if all the interns pooled their cash . . ."

"Don't even suggest it," Whitney replied. "Them not knowing is keeping you safe for now. Plus, they wouldn't trust you with more of their money."

"Their money." I cried again. I never saw it as their money until now. Until it was lost.

"Stop it," Whitney said. "I have an idea. If we can prove it was sabotage, the insurance company will pay for it."

"I don't have insurance . . ." I trailed off. I understood what Whitney was saying. "Since we had the down payment, Vacationland is responsible for our employees at the site. We're paying for Roxy's medical with the down payment, but we could get money for the ceiling if it wasn't preexisting. Brilliant, Whit."

"Follow the money . . ." she said. "I recall a smart woman using that phrase before."

I nodded. "The stress dumbed her a bit. She's clearer now. Let's go."
Chapter 6

Stonewalled by Jackson

Whitney and I arrived at the police station. My excitement was building because I was sure I had been set up. I had thought the hole in the ceiling a practical joke against me, but on the way over to the police station, I started thinking that the practical joke was designed to injure me or maybe Mr. Snear. Instead, Roxanne stepped into the trap, and she was injured.

"Do you think they wanted to hurt me?" I whispered to Whitney.

She paused, processing my theory. "I don't know. I'm a little surprised someone would want to hurt you. Samuel wasn't hurt, and he was walking around the hole to inspect it."

"That's a point, but maybe it was something Roxanne did."

"We can't ask," she said. "She'll be out for a few days . . . maybe even a week."

I didn't reply. It was too painful to think about Roxy. Her warning echoed in my head constantly.

"Venusville PD, how can I help you?" the front desk computer asked me. Its digital voice spoke without emotion.

"Investigations, please. Venusville Hotel."

"One second."

Whitney and I stood without talking. We waited patiently for the computer to reply.

"The investigation has been completed," it said. "The investigator concluded that there are structural faults. Do you need anything further?"

"What?" I replied. "How can that be?"

"What's the date on the report?" Whitney added.

The date scrolled. It was from yesterday.

"Can you check it again?" I said to the computer.

"The investigation has been completed. The investigator concluded that there are structural faults. Do you need anything further?"

"No—"

"Yes," Whitney replied. "Who was the investigating officer?"

"Officer Jackson Sinster."

"Can we see him?" she asked.

"He isn't available for appointments."

"We're here on behalf of Vacationland," Whitney said. "We have a right to speak with him."

"I don't think—" I said.

"Hush," she said. "Remember, I was here before. They told me I could speak with my investigating officer for a few minutes. I'm assuming Vacationland has the right, since you're footing the bill for Roxy."

"Ladies," a man in a suit said from our side.

I jumped, but Whitney turned coolly. "Mr. Sinster?"

"Yes. Did you make me come out here?"

"Paged that fast?" I said.

He eyed me without replying.

"I'm Vicky Valentine, the manager from Vacationland. This is Whitney Phavors . . . hmm, also from Vacationland. We wanted to ask you some questions about the ceiling incident at the Venusville Hotel."

"I already explained it to your representative on the videophone. I don't see why I should be dragged out here again."

"Already? Who did you speak with?"

He flipped through his notes on a data tablet. "Mr. Graham Neisheim."

"Graham Neisheim?" He was my mother's top assistant. It wasn't unusual for him to speak on the company's behalf. But not telling me . . . that was odd. "What did you tell him?"

"I sent the report to him," he said. "You should speak with him about my analysis. He agreed with it, and Vacationland signed the acceptance and responsibility papers already."

"We did?" I was shocked . . . but at the same time, I wasn't. My mother was giving me tough love. I didn't know why she was being so aggressive with it, though. She was costing Vacationland money. We could've dragged it out for a week or two but not anymore. She had admitted our company would be responsible. "Thank you," I said.

Mr. Sinster went back into the station house. He sent the report to my datapad, and we left. Whitney and I walked back to my hotel suite.

"I thought we were going to get him to change his opinion," Whitney said. "I had an argument lined up and everything. I was there. I haven't given my statement."

I shook my head. "Business stuff. Mr. Neisheim signed the papers of acceptance already. It means Mr. Snear and Vacationland agreed it was an accident and not done deliberately. I'm stuck now. I have to fix it or the deal falls through."

"Why did Valentine Entertainment accept the agreement so quickly?" Whitney stopped me. "Is it over money?"

"Not money," I said. "My mom is teaching me a lesson. She doesn't care if it hurts the interns because it'll look like it was my fault. It was all my fault."

"If it's any consolation, I'm starting to think it was mostly your fault, not all your fault."

"Thanks," I said, a bit hurt. "At least I have that to bring to the interns. We'll never get the money back by the end of the semester."

"I figured that by the rivers of tears falling into the sink earlier. There has to be something we can do. Maybe prove it ourselves or get the money."

I was skeptical. "Do you know anything about structural engineering?"

Whitney shook her head. "Didn't you catch people in lies all the time during your adventures with Molly of Mars?"

"Molly has superpower when it comes to catching people. I throw up in the sink."

"With that attitude, I can understand why."

"Shut up." We stepped off the elevator to the floor of my suite. "Our best bet is to pay off the ceiling repair and get the sale back on track. My mom can't stop the contract I signed. It would be really bad for business. So that's my plan, to get ten thousand bucks."

"How do you raise the money in two days?"

"I have no idea." I inserted the keycard into the door to my hotel suite. Just as it turned green, someone from behind pushed us through the door. I fell to the floor. Whitney stepped on me and fell, too.

The door slammed behind us. I spun to my feet. The man's cold eyes were trained on me.

Then Whitney said something I wasn't expecting. "What are you doing here?"
Chapter 7

Mysteries Can't Be Ignored . . .

Seriously, It's Not Possible

"Who is it, Whit?" I asked.

"I'm Officer Jordan," the man said. "Sorry I knocked you down. I couldn't be seen."

"Who?" I balled my fists.

Whitney put her hand on my shoulder. "He's the one who threatened and arrested me at the zoo. Settle down."

"Settle down!" I exclaimed. "He forced you to confess to a crime you didn't commit."

Officer Jordan stepped toward me. "I had to do it or they'd fire me. Or worse."

"Get back." I retreated farther into the suite toward my bedside.

"Don't go for it," Whitney said. She knew I hid my stun gun beside my bed. "Officer Jordan is just Mr. Jordan these days."

"What?" I turned to her.

Whitney sat in the nearby chair. "He was fired and confessed to me a week ago. I double-checked his story with the PD."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't think it even mattered. I blew him off and told him to shove it."

"She did," he said. "She was mean."

"Mean?" I said. "After what you did to her, I wish she'd kicked you between those stumpy legs."

"I'd deserve it, too, but I'm scared. Since you went to purchase the hotel, everyone is after me, plus whoever knew about the operation. They don't want you to buy it. A strange man tried to take me out last night because I know things."

"Who tried to take you out? Why hasn't there been a competing bid?"

"I've no idea. The PD fired me because I told them I wasn't going to do their dirty work anymore. I wanted out, but I knew too much."

"What were they doing exactly?"

"All sorts of things. You caught them with their supply ordering scam. And then you forced them to move their alien zoo to somewhere else in the colony. There was talk of corporate fraud . . . all sorts of things."

"So the alien zoo was real?" I tapped my chin, remembering how Molly and I had taken on aliens back on Mars. I never thought I'd see them again. I never thought I'd ever see one in the first place. "Who else at Vacationland is involved?"

"The entire zoo and the entire police force are involved."

"All of Vacationland?"

"Not now. I think you got them all."

I was skeptical. "How do you know?"

"Because Vacationland has too many off-world employees. This ring is mostly local."

I thought for a moment about the managers. "Maybe I should start transferring people. It would help me discover who's involved."

"Don't rock the boat," he said. "Your name comes up a lot. You need to leave. They'll kill you eventually."

"They'd never kill me. My mother would ransack the entire colony looking for the criminals."

"That safeguard will only work for so long. I'm on the run now. I came to warn you before I leave." He moved toward the door.

"Wait," I said. "What's their current plot?"

His face was awash with worry. "To stop you from buying the hotel. That's all I know."

"Why?"

He shook his head, looking scared. "The strange man who tried to take me out, he wanted to know more about the alien zoo and the hotel."

"What about the hotel?"

"The basement."

Whitney's face contorted. "The basement is pretty boring."

"Yeah," I said. "It's a single room with cartons of supplies and one ramp to get into it. Nothing interesting or alien."

"That's what the man wanted to know about," he said. "I told him I didn't know more."

"Who was this man?"

"He was hidden. Then his henchman tried to take me out. I barely escaped."

"A henchman?" Whitney said with a laugh. "Sounds like a bad holodrama."

He crossed his arms. "What else should I call him? Sidekick? Flunky?"

"It's okay, Mr. Jordan," I said. "But what do the hotel and the alien zoo have in common? There aren't aliens at the hotel. I've been to every room. Mr. Snear, the owner, wouldn't sell if it had that kind of value in it."

He rubbed his hands nervously. "That's the deeper plot I'm trying to avoid completely. When they moved them, I pretended to be sick. I'm going off Venus forever."

"Stay," I said. "Help us fight."

"No," he said. "I suggest you leave, too."

I shook my head. "I'm not going anywhere. I've done enough damage, and I have to fix it."

"Is it worth your life?" he asked.

"In this case, yes. I'd risk myself to give a future to everyone I hurt. After what you said, that someone is stopping the purchase, I need your help. Please, can you testify so I can get the insurance company to pay back my down payment?"

"Are you insane? They'll kill me."

"But if you know something was criminal, you have to help. That's your oath as a police officer."

"My oath was void when my fellow officers made me do illegal things. I'm not risking my life for your purchase or your down payment."

"It'll take the future away from so many people."

"I'm sorry, but I can't help you." He left the hotel room in a hurry.

I didn't try to stop him further. The hollowness and fear in his eyes told me it would be a waste of time. His warning was eerie.

Whitney and I stood in silence for a long moment. Neither of us could process the plot. Maybe she thought the purchase was an even bigger mistake than before. I wasn't convinced yet. Even more than before, I knew my purchase was correct.

"He's scared," Whitney said. "I thought he was lying to me, but just now, he looked as scared as I felt when they set me up."

I nodded. "He repented to you, quit the force, and warned me of danger. Yet he wouldn't do the right thing and try to unravel the conspiracy with us."

"Fear can make people do desperate things. He was brave to come here."

"I don't know. He didn't tell us much aside from fueling paranoia."

"But he came."

"I guess." To me, he was a coward. He might not help the bad people any longer, but he was allowing what they did to continue. It appalled me.
Chapter 8

I Wish I Hadn't Looked

Thirty minutes after Officer Jordan had left my hotel suite, my anger only intensified.

"Am I insane? Is he insane?" I said to Whitney. "The nerve of him coming here and warning us."

"Yeah," Whitney said. "He's a jerk for warning us of danger."

"I didn't mean it like that. I meant he should've helped us further. If he knows more . . . all he accomplished was to scare us more."

"It sounds like you should cut your losses and return to Mars. I'm sure the interns would eventually get over it."

"I'm not going to let some threats scare me off. No one's tried to hurt me yet."

"Remember Roxanne?" she replied. "What happened to her was meant for you. Remember the hole in the floor? You fell through it."

"Oh yeah," I said, but really, I didn't think either incident was directed at me. At least, I hadn't proven it yet. "My problem remains. I'm going to try to get the eight thousand dollars so I can get the purchase back on track."

"How're you going to get the money?"

"I want to talk to Inspector Samuel. Maybe we can try to get him to look at the site again, to approve the inspection. Then I don't have to fix it."

"And if he doesn't?"

I rubbed my chin. "I'll figure something out. Maybe I can get a loan from someone in Venusville. Investors aren't a bad thing."

"You're kidding yourself, thinking someone would want a hotel with a giant hole in it."

"Whitney, you're not helping my confidence. Let's go see Samuel. Can you do that, or will you be snippy?"

"I'm not snippy. I'm practical. Plus, I'm following you for the dinner you promised."

I put my hands on my hips. "My friendship is a free dinner. I get it now."

"Without scholarship money . . . I need all the free food I can get."

Though it was a joke, the comment stung me, reminding me again what was at stake.

I changed out of my work clothes into something more comfortable. The pair of jeans and a flowery top looked good on me . . . if I'm allowed to compliment myself without sounding too conceited.

Inspector Samuel's office was located deep inside Venusville. We wound down corridor after corridor until we reached sublevel 100. The rains of Venus hit hard against the windows, and the lightning came fast and repetitive. The thunder snapped hard, rippling fright across my shoulders with each clap.

Whitney stayed close behind me. She jumped with every boom. The thunder and lightning were so close and violent that it felt as if the lightning would reach through the protective hull of the colony and fry us. To think we were floating within the storm. A chill ran down my back in rhythm with the rumbling colony.

"Can we go back?" she asked, pestering me again.

I tapped on the glass. "We're inside Venusville," I replied. "Don't get skittish on me."

The thunder rumbled again. Whitney screamed a muted cry. I twisted my face to let her know she was being entirely unreasonable.

"I get it," she said.

"You're from Earth. Don't you have thunder there?"

"I said I get it."

We hurried our steps until we reached the front door of Samuel's office. I knocked, but no one replied. I checked my phone for his hours. "It says he should be here," I said. "Maybe he's on an assignment."

Whitney tapped on the door. "The sign here is flipped to Open. The be-back time isn't set."

I agreed. He should be here. I pushed on the handle of the door, and it opened. "Hello?"

Whitney grabbed my arm. "What're you doing? You don't have any right."

"Seeing if he's inside. He's supposed to be here."

"Fine."

I pushed the door open completely and walked inside. The room was empty. We were in the lobby, and a hallway led to more rooms in the back. I walked up to the desk and checked to see if anyone was working. I couldn't tell if the desk was active or not. "Hello?" I called.

"I don't think anyone is—"

From the break room, a coffee machine chimed. It had finished its brewing cycle. I rushed down the hallway to the room. No one was there, though the smell of coffee was strong and fresh.

I moved up to the coffee machine and touched the pot. It was so hot I burned my finger. Shaking it, I cursed.

"Smooth move, super lax," Whitney chided me from a popular commercial's catchphrase. "Want a cup?"

"Means someone started it just a short time ago."

"Right." Whitney tensed. "Where?"

I brushed past her and moved farther down the hall to the first office. The label read, Inspector Sidney Samuel, VVMC. The VV stood for Venusville and the MC for Martian Command.

His door was ajar, but I couldn't see anything inside. The light was on, so I pushed it open slowly. The door creaked, and my anticipation grew.

Boom! Thunder rolled over the colony. My heart slammed against my ribs, and I jumped, my frayed nerves cracking. I'd never been so scared. Whitney pawed at my arm, and when our eyes met, we started to laugh. We were so silly. Everything from the police officer to the thunder to the eerily empty office was feeding our paranoia.

I straightened my top. "I guess we've made ourselves a bit jumpy."

"Yeah." Whitney nodded. "Fraidycat girls, as Troy would say."

With a firm push, I flung the door open to show I wasn't afraid anymore. Immediately, Whitney screamed. I jumped back and slammed hard against the wall. Inspector Samuel sat in his chair, stabbed in the chest with a long knife.

"Let's go!" Whitney grabbed my arm and pulled me partly down the hallway.

I stumbled but quickly managed to dig my feet into the carpet and stop Whitney from dragging me to the floor. "Stop it."

"Someone will kill us, Vicky!" She yanked on my jacket.

"Stop it!" I ordered her. "We have to see if he's okay."

"Okay? He has a knife in his chest."

"I didn't see much blood." I walked back to the office and stepped cautiously inside. Samuel looked dead, but his eyes were closed. I thought dead people's eyes were open. I reached my hand out to touch his neck.

"Don't touch him." Whitney's words broke through the tense air like a hammer.

I pulled my arm back in fright. "Let me handle this." I reached out and gently put my fingers against the top of his neck, near the artery. He was warm.

Suddenly, his hand grabbed my hand. I yelped and tried to move back, but he was strong. He pulled me in close.

"Vicky," he rasped, "don't forget Falcon Five." From inside his fingers, he slipped a fingernail-sized data slip into my palm.

I grabbed it. "I'll get you help."

His body twitched, and he rolled off the chair to the floor. I grabbed him, rolled him over, and took in a sad breath. This time, his eyes remained open. He was dead now.

I reeled backward. "Maybe we should get out of here."

"What did he say?" Whitney asked.

"Falcon Five," I muttered. I showed her the datacard.

"What's on it?"

"No idea. Something about a Falcon Five, maybe."

We heard a rustling against the wall. Someone was in another room. It could be the murderer. Whitney grabbed my arm to keep from screaming. Her fingernails dug into my arm.

With Molly, I'd been the one in fear, but it seemed I was the brave one now. I took pride in that. I stepped back into the hallway, feeling more like supergirl than cowardly lion. The rustling continued, and I shouted, "Who is it?"

The rustling stopped, and heavy boots echoed down the hall. That was stupid.

Whitney and I took several steps backward until we reached the end of the hallway. Our curiosity overpowered our need to flee. I couldn't help but wonder who had done it.

A gruff man the size of a gorilla turned the corner and pointed at us. "Come here."

The order was firm. Probably it would've worked on me if I hadn't seen Samuel already. I stood firm. "Did you kill Samuel?"

A small knife left his hand in a twitch. I dodged to the left. The knife clipped my hip and rattled against the wall.

I put my hand against the tear in my jeans. I pulled my hand back and looked at the blood covering it.

Whitney picked up the knife and chucked it back at the man. "Jerk!"

I didn't need to discover anything more about him. I pushed Whitney through the lobby, and we tore down the hallways of Venusville at top speed.

We saw a woman approaching.

"Help us!" I screamed.

She seemed to tense. A second later, she fell to the floor, a knife in her side.

"He's coming," Whitney huffed. "This way."

"No." I grabbed her arm. "This way."

We tore into the internal structure of Venusville. Another knife clanked off the doorframe behind me.

I stumbled and fell to the metallic floor, which was pitted with bumps for traction. They tore at my hands. The pain stung, and I pressed my palms against my thighs as I rose to my feet.

Whitney stopped at the next doorway. "Come on!"

"Coming." I hurried to catch up with her, and she pulled me through the next door just as the husky man came through.

"I'll get you little girls. I'll kill you like I killed your friend."

"Little!" I was offended. My mind raced for a solution because we couldn't outrun him forever. I needed a better plan. A Molly plan.

I saw it a moment later. The elevator room could get us away in a hurry. I pushed Whitney through the door and sealed the lock. Immediately, I noticed something terrible. The room had no other doors. The elevators weren't as accessible as I had thought.

We were trapped.
Chapter 9

Up or Down . . . It Doesn't Matter

"Are you crazy?" In the elevator room deep inside Venusville, Whitney paced around in a circle. "There's no other door in here. You should've listened to me. We should've run away down the hallways more."

"And gotten more people hurt? That woman back there is either dead or badly injured."

Whitney knocked her fists against her head in frustration. "I should've just left. Splitting up would've saved me."

"Maybe you should've. I don't need your scaredy-cat attitude anyway, slowing me down."

"Ohhh!" she growled. "I really should've left. Your arrogance is unequalled."

"My arrogance?" I huffed in complete shock. "I didn't make a mistake with the hotel. Someone is trying to ruin me, and that man is proof."

"This is your fault. You're just too egotistical to admit it. Crying like a spoiled brat in the bathroom. I should've recorded it and showed everyone."

"Really big of you, jerk." I brushed past her and moved toward the elevator shafts. I didn't know why Whitney was following me around. She seemed like my friend at times, and then at others, she became my biggest critic. Maybe she enjoyed the drama. I hated those frenemies the most.

Whit crossed her arms and leaned her short, curvy frame against the wall. I didn't know what her problem was, but I turned toward the immediate problem: the bad man banging on the door. It would be only a matter of time before he opened it.

The tubes were partially clear metal. I wrapped my knuckles on it. It pinged like normal metal, but the almost glass-like finish gave it an unusual sensation. I ran my hand along the smooth surface. I looked down the shaft and up to the top. The car for this shaft was above us. So were the cars for the next five shafts. The only one below us was at the far end. I hadn't seen it move for the past few seconds. I thought it was out of service.

I opened the maintenance door. The shaft echoed with sounds of the colony from above. I could faintly hear voices as they rattled from behind the doors, trickling down to me.

I didn't see a ladder or anything to climb. The elevator car was too far away for us to jump down. I wasn't having much luck figuring out our next move.

Whitney wandered over beside me. She looked up and down the tube herself. "Why isn't the elevator moving?"

I shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe it's broken."

She moved over to the control screen for the tube. It didn't relay much information. After several button presses, she gave up. "Says it can't start. Over and over again."

"So it's broken. Try another tube."

"Why?"

I opened what I thought was a working tube. Above, the car bobbed up and down, moving from floor to floor. It was high above us toward the top of the colony.

"Maybe see if you can reset it. Make it come down to the bottom. We can jump on the top of it."

"That's crazy," she said, but she punched the commands to reset it. "I think I started some type of maintenance test. It says, Do you want to proceed?"

"Yes."

"All or specific tube?"

"Not specific . . . I don't know what to call this tube. Do all."

Whitney pressed the button. I stuck my head into the tube. The elevator ripped past us, almost tearing my head off, and shot down to the bottom of the colony. Then another and another shot through their tubes. All wasn't an understatement. It was doing some type of system-wide recycling of the elevators in Venusville.

The door to the room burst open. The man who had threatened to kill us jumped in with a scowl on his face. Rubbing his shoulder, he appeared unimpressed that his prey had survived this long.

"Quick, Whit, get over here." I waved at her.

She moved to the elevator tube and looked down. "It's coming." She hopped into the tube and jumped downward. I followed closely behind . . . almost. Just as I was about to jump, I was pushed backward. My butt stung, and I fell to one knee. The elevator ripped past me on its way upward.

"Vick-eeee!" Whitney screamed.

"Whit," I said in a muted voice as the throbbing pain pushed through my will to stop it. My knees were strong and didn't buckle. I turned to see a two-inch blade in my backside. Instead of me freaking out, my mind focused. I turned with venom toward the man.

Quickly, he was on me. I barely ducked under his arms and out of his reach. He snarled when his head hit the metal tube.

I kicked at his knee. He growled and fell to the floor. My fists balled, but I didn't dare punch him. I'd only annoy him, and I wanted to stay out of his reach. I headed for a tube to my left, jumped over his diving reach, and hurried into it.

I fell for two or three seconds. Another elevator flew upward at top speed. I landed squarely in the middle of the car. After several flickers of light from above, I was into the open center of Venusville, heading straight to the top of the colony. Craning my neck to get a better view, I saw Whitney several floors above me.

"Vicky!" she screamed. "How do I get off this thing?"

"When it stops—" I was about to finish my sentence when my car did stop. My momentum propelled me upward into the air, and I flipped around. I landed hard on my stomach, sliding over the edge of the car.

Desperately, I grabbed a metal railing to stop my fall into the abyss below. Over my shoulder, the heart of the colony lay several hundred feet below.

Venusville had a massive open center. The large space was shaped like a tadpole standing on its tail with a big sphere at the top. The very bottom displayed a huge, swirling sapphire-colored power station. It energized the entire colony, and if I fell from here, someone would find a barbecued Vicky Valentine cutlet.

I hadn't planned on being on the menu today. I kicked my feet from side to side, and the car started again. Screams from inside the elevator car weren't helping my nerves. I braced for the next floor.

The car stopped and dropped down. I flew upward, but my hold on the railing spun me around. I landed hard on my back on top of the car. It was teeth-jarring.

I got to my knees and held on with both hands. The elevators were testing themselves. Each of them cycled up and down to random floors. Whitney had a tight hold. She'd ride it out without making another move. Worried, I didn't want the man to be able to backtrack on us. I searched the top for some type of emergency stop or trapdoor to get into the cabin. I found nothing.

From behind me, a loud clank caused me to start. The man jumped to my car and squeezed his clawlike hands into my shoulder. I cried out in agony.

The elevator stopped. He slipped, and I kicked his knee.

He stumbled to the edge. "Such a fighter. I didn't think Molly of Mars was a blond."

"Wrong. Vicky Valentine is made of spit and vinegar." I jumped to my feet.

He rocked back and forth as the elevator continued to move up and down. My gymnastics training made my balance better.

I looked over my shoulder. Several cars were coming up.

He took out a large knife. The blade was the size of my forearm.

I gawked at it, unsure if I could survive a cut. I had to do something and fast.

He lunged at me. But just as he did, the elevator stopped and headed upward. I used the momentum of the car to plant my foot and backflip off the edge of the car. In the same motion, I tore the two-inch blade from my butt, the blade he had planted earlier. As I came around from having my feet over my head, I tossed the knife at the man.

It hit him directly in the knee. He stumbled to his left and fell over the side of the car.

I continued away from the car and landed hard on my back against another elevator car coming upward. My back hurt instantly as I hit the metal railing bluntly. My elbow and the base of my head cracked against the flush metal on the top. My shin flexed over the metal railing, causing the bone to bow. When it snapped back, it reverberated like a piano string, only this music was pure pain.

I grabbed at my leg. "It isn't like the movies," I muttered. "Heroes don't get a free pass on injury." I sat up.

Just as I did, a blue flare burst from below. A lightning bolt ripped up the side of the center section. It glowed for a few seconds before finally reverting to its normal brightness.

"Barbecue bad guy," I murmured. Too bad . . . I wanted to find out who sent him.

I leaned back when the elevator finally stopped. It took several minutes for help to arrive. The hatch to the elevator opened, and out popped the head of a police officer. "Martian Command security, ma'am. Are you okay?"

I was glad it wasn't Venusville PD. "Actually, I'll need a full body scan for a broken . . . everything." I lay back. "And I need to report a murder. Inspector Sidney Samuel of Mars."

"We found the body. And an injured woman."

"The man who fell . . . he did it."

"Who, ma'am?"

"I don't know his name."

"I mean, who fell? We don't have a body."

"He has to have died. He caused a lightning show from below."

"We only found a large knife and a jacket."

"He burned up?"

"There's no trace of anyone."

I rubbed my hand along my pants' pocket and felt for the datacard. It was safe, and I wouldn't give it to anyone until I looked at it . . . until I knew what Falcon Five was. "Never mind, then. I'm too tired."

Medical personnel took me to the hospital. Later, I learned the authorities never found the man who had fallen, not even on any security cameras. That concerned me. If he somehow survived, he'd try to attack me. I didn't know anything about him—other than he was a hulk of a man.
Chapter 10

Lying, Cheating, Stealing . . .  
I Work for a Major Corporation, So It's Okay

"My leg." I slammed my fist against the desk in my suite. I knew what to expect. The leg would hurt for the next day or so. The doctor told me I'd need to have surgery on it again. He warned that it might permanently hurt if I didn't take care of it immediately.

I told him thanks, but I needed a few days. I really didn't want to deal with it just now. I couldn't be down for a single minute. I had until the next morning to get the money for the repairs to the hotel. It was already midafternoon.

"You should've gotten it taken care of," Whitney said from under the covers of my bed.

"Did you get a good nap while I was at the hospital?"

"Yes," she said. "I didn't want to see the others. I'm somewhat part of the lie. I'm enabling you."

"Lie? More like a screw over of me."

"I guess," she replied. "But you got yourself into this position."

"I didn't get myself into any position. In good faith, I bought a hotel. Who can predict someone having a vendetta against me?"

"Do you have any leads?"

"Falcon Five," I said. "I don't understand what it meant. The datacard Samuel gave me has a twelve-password entry."

"Falcon Five is one of them?"

"I think so . . . I'm not really good with the hacker stuff. I sent it to my friend Luke on Mars. He said it passed one of the locks. I just need the other eleven."

"So how do we find out the rest of the passwords?"

I shrugged. "I don't think we ever will. Falcon Five is meaningless to me."

"What's your plan for the money? Isn't your deadline tomorrow morning?"

"I don't know," I said. "Can you fix a ceiling for two thousand bucks?"

"No, but maybe Spencer and his Earth friends could do it. You know, the ones his dad knows. Put plywood over it . . . dress it up."

"Whitney." I seethed. "He's trying to escape from his family. He doesn't want to live the life his father led."

Whitney tilted her head. "It was a joke. It would be horrible to ask him for their help. If you want him to hate you, do that."

I tapped my chin. "You're right, though. They'd fix it. I know those types of guys . . . I was told to avoid them by my dad when I left. He thought they might try to take advantage of me since I had so much power at Vacationland."

"He's right," Whitney said. "Don't. I didn't mean it."

"I know, and I wouldn't."

I moved over to my closet to get a change of clothes. I flipped through the racks to find the perfect pair of pants for my current situation. I'd need something loose for my leg, but stylish enough—

Then the idea hit. I knew how to raise the money. My closet had twenty thousand dollars in clothes. My mother and father allowed me to buy clothing for my business looks, and I'd taken advantage for the longest time. I just needed to sell what I had to the local fashion stores. They'd love these new Martian styles. I'd clean up because Venus was a year behind everyone in the latest trends.

"Whitney," I said. "You need to go back to work. Nurse Brackens wants you there for the afternoon shift. Don't sacrifice yourself for me. I have a plan. I can do it alone."

She looked at me skeptically. "Don't ask Spenc—"

"No. I have a better resource. Just trust me. The purchase will be back on by the end of the day."

"Vicky."

"It's Miss Valentine. Get to the park," I ordered her. "You're back on the clock. I'll take care of it."

"Fine," she replied. "Nurse Phavors back on duty."

After she left, I called the front desk and asked them to send up three clothes carts. I also called some local stores. Only one of them was excited about my inventory of clothes. I headed for them first. I'd surprise visit the rest later.

It turned out that Venus Vixens was the only fashion store that would deal with me, and they only offered me a few thousand for the clothes. I had two thousand in my bank account. That left me well short of the money I needed. But I relented, sold the clothes, and took the money.

I was sitting with six thousand bucks and nothing to do with it. When I called, the ceiling technicians said I needed to pay in full. I told them I couldn't. I offered them many alternatives, and they rejected each of them.

Whitney's joke was my last alternative and a good idea. Spencer hating me was worth the risk. He already did anyway.

I knocked on the door to his suite. He lived with Whitney, and since she was at the park, we could talk without her finding out.

"Hello." One of the new boys answered the door. His jovial face turned sour when he saw me. The room smelled of a long day of playing video games and sitting around. "Oh, it's you."

"Is Spencer here?" I asked. "I need to talk to him."

"Spence, the C-O-W is here."

He thought he was so smart. "I can spell, and I'm still your boss in the morning, remember."

He blushed and walked away. Spencer moved to the door and leaned against it. "Did I forget my time card or something? What do you want?"

"I need you."

Spencer sneered at me. "I'm from Earth. Your urges would be better used on someone else."

"Not that," I said. "Who was your father's friend on Venus? The one who contacted you."

"Why do you care about my uncle Boyles?" He eyed me suspiciously. "He's only trouble."

"I need a favor from him. I have money to pay him."

"What're you doing?" he asked. "Are you that desperate to be alone with me? That desperate to get me back? Why would you think I'd help you?"

"I don't want to get back with you. My new moniker shows me your real side. The cow . . . really?"

"Listen, I don't want to help you. My father's life isn't the one I want to lead. Clyde Boyles is a dangerous man. If I make contact with him, he'll think I want into that world. I don't."

"I really need his assistance. I know he can help me."

"What's going on? How can you ask me that?"

"I can't tell you. I just need you to help me."

"Stop it, Vicky. I'm not going to help you."

"Please."

"Why're you doing this?" He seethed. "You really are a cow, trying to get me to do the one thing that I never wanted to do. I told you about it in confidence, and you're taking advantage of it."

I was practically on my knees begging. "I know it's hard, but I need your help. I really need it."

"No! Get out of here. Stop talking to me."

"But—"

"I'm Earth slime, remember? You shouldn't even be talking to me. I can't even look at you."

I held back my tears. "I really need—"

"Need. Need. Need. You just want to use. I can't believe I even liked you. Go away!" He slammed the door in my face.

I started to cry. Whitney was right. He had even more venom in him than I thought. I should never have come.

I walked down the hall with my hand to my mouth, trying unsuccessfully to keep the hiccupping wails from getting out.

Spencer was lost forever. And so was the interns' money.
Chapter 11

A Deal with the Devil

My grief turned to anger, then desperation. So I used the one important clue Spencer gave me. I had to find Clyde Boyles. I didn't need Spencer to hand feed me to him. I could negotiate a deal myself and leave him out of it.

I found his name in the Venusville directory and arrived outside his restaurant minutes later.

A large man greeted me in the doorway. "Can I help you?"

"I'm looking for Mr. Boyles. I have an opportunity for him."

"I don't think you do." He stood over me. "Mr. Boyles doesn't do business with little girls."

"I have a few thousand that says he might. It's an easy job. No loose ends . . . I need an investor."

"He doesn't—"

From behind, a man said, "Let Miss Valentine through, Hector."

Hector turned to the man. He was tall, skinny, and well dressed. He was older, almost my dad's age. "She says she has some money."

"Let her through. I know what she needs."

Hector stood to the side, but I didn't move. My fear senses tingled. Everything about going into the restaurant seemed dangerous. No telling what would happen.

"Go on," Hector ordered. "Mr. Boyles says he'll talk to you. No backing out now."

I swallowed hard and stepped inside. "Thank you," I said, but I didn't know if anything came out.

Mr. Boyles led me into the back of the restaurant. It didn't really matter where we sat because the place was empty. I didn't even smell food cooking. It was dinnertime, so it was a mystery to me.

He directed me to sit opposite him at one of the tables.

"A little slow tonight," I said.

"Things are doing great. We get mostly carryout orders. You want a carryout order?"

I nodded. "What's your specialty?"

"I think you know or you wouldn't be here."

"Of course," I said. "I need a favor . . . or a job . . . or whatever you call it. I need a ceiling fixed."

"A ceiling fixed? That seems like a job for some building contractors. They'll do the job just fine."

"But this ceiling doesn't need to be fixed the way you think," I said. "I just need a paper that says it passed an inspection, and it needs to pass an eye test, too."

"Really. What if someone walks on it?"

I thought like a criminal for a moment. "I'll put a wet paint sign over it. You don't need to worry about anyone getting hurt."

"Why would you want to get mixed up in a business like this one?"

"I just need it done. Spencer said you'd do it. That was your specialty."

"Spencer Craft . . . my nephew. Why didn't you say he wanted the favor?"

"No. He doesn't want to be involved. He doesn't know I came."

He rubbed his chin. "I'll do it anyway. Give me the money, and I'll make sure that inspection passes on the hotel."

I stood, suddenly defensive about the situation. "I didn't say anything about the hotel. How did you know?"

"How do you think I knew you were Vicky Valentine? Someone in Venusville is looking to get you."

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I backed away a step or two.

"Don't worry," he said. "It isn't me."

"You should know Inspector Samuel died trying to help me. I killed the assassin following me."

"Killed? Don't exaggerate with me. The cops never found him, according to the police report. Didn't you tell the police he slipped off?"

"I did," I said, admitting the little lie. "I didn't want questions. I said he was chasing us. I didn't say anything about the knife I threw at him."

"That's criminal behavior, Miss Valentine. Are you sure?"

"I'm not a criminal for defending myself."

"And this favor you need from me? Why so urgent?"

"It's . . . it's to buy time," I said. "I made a mistake, and I need to correct it."

"That's Hector's story, too. He gambled. Lost money. He made a mistake, and he needs to correct it. Now, he's my employee. Did you gamble and lose?"

Sure, I gambled the interns' money and I lost, but I wasn't like Hector. "I'm going to fix it . . . with your help. I need everything ready by eight tomorrow morning. Can you do it?"

"I can. Give me the money, and I'll set up my men to do it."

"Payment on delivery," I replied. "Valentine corporate policy."

"It isn't my policy. Not the criminal policy."

"Five thousand says you'll do it."

"I'd need at least eight thousand plus some profits from the hotel for a year. The regulations I'd be risking are—"

"Mr. Boyles, five thousand is enough."

He laughed. "Well, well. Miss Valentine is a master negotiator. Eight thousand is the price, or it's not happening."

"Five."

"Eight or no."

"F—"

"Don't finish that sentence, young lady. I'm not in the playground trading lunches."

I wanted to counter the offer but thought better of it. I had to play to his weakness. "Spencer's future is at risk if you don't do it. I gambled his scholarship money. Do you want your nephew in this business? He's trying to escape it."

Mr. Boyles narrowed his eyes at me. "You hurt Spencer's future, and you dare come to me for help?"

I didn't back down. I wanted to shrink away to Mars, though. "I didn't mean to. Someone set me up. You already know that or none of this would've happened. I wouldn't be here."

He picked at his chin. "Six thousand is all you have?"

I nodded. "No more than that. I'm tapped out. Desperate."

He hummed in thought. "Six plus the profit percentage. Your honesty would've gotten you hurt with anyone else."

"You care for Spencer. I could tell you cared when I mentioned his name, and it's a good deal. It's safe money, in my opinion."

The uncle nodded. "He doesn't want in this business. His father thinks otherwise, but I agree with Spencer. This life isn't for our children. It was a life from before the alien war . . . not anymore. I'll help so he doesn't have to ask his father for anything."

"Thank you."

The next morning when I arrived at the hotel, Clyde Boyles stood at the main desk, tapping away on the tablet in his hand. He put his finger up for me to hold my thought and finished whatever a few moments later. "The inspection has passed." He handed me the tablet.

I called up the official inspection notice. It looked in order. The signature belonged to someone I didn't recognize from Mr. Snear's inspection list. "This name will pass a background check for Snear?"

"Yes. He's registered on Earth. He won't give you trouble with Venusville checks."

"Good." I rubbed the tablet with my hands. I could almost feel the sliminess of the document along its smooth edges. Mr. Boyles was right about one thing: I was heading down a road I'd never thought possible. If someone was going to try to stop me illegally, I could fight back with a harmless crime. Inspection fraud meant two years in prison, tops. No one would be hurt, and everyone I cared about would gain from it.

"Go on, Miss Valentine. You just need to press the send button. You're the owner, and Venusville Property will approve the sale within minutes."

"I know," I said. "What about the hole? Is it fixed?"

"Oh yes."

We walked into the kitchen, and the hole wasn't there. Several metal plates were fused to the ceiling. Then we walked upstairs. The hole in the floor wasn't noticeable. I walked over to it and rubbed my hand on the floor. The line where the metal was fused to the floor was seamless. It just needed a coat of paint. And a rug.

"This will hold my weight?"

"A person's, yes . . . for a time. But you'll need to reinforce it for heavier traffic."

"I understand." I grabbed the four pylons in the corner of the room and placed them where the hole used to be. "I think I'll take it cautiously for now."

"Good idea."

I handed him a datachip with the six thousand dollars on it.

He took it, put it into his electronic wallet, and took the virtual cash in seconds. He returned the datachip to me. "So we're done," he said.

I pressed the send button on the inspection report. "We're done. Thanks for your help. I won't say anything to Spencer about this. I hope you won't."

"Your secret is safe with me."

"No, it isn't," Spencer said from the doorway. "Uncle Clyde, how could you help her? She isn't in your debt, is she?"

"Fifteen percent profits on this place for two years," I said. "Nothing big."

"There's always something big with Uncle Clyde. Did you tell her you'd break her legs if she didn't pay on time? Did you tell her you'd have one of your accountants on staff make sure she was honest?"

"What?" I said. "Is this true?"

"Of course," Mr. Boyles said. "What did you think I meant by assurances? A stern letter?"

"You don't need to question my honesty," I protested. "You got your money as I said. You'll get the fifteen percent as promised."

He nodded. "Ms. Niles will make sure of that. Please allow her access to the money flows, and our contact will be limited."

I crossed my arms. "I'll do no such thing. I won't cheat you."

"Little lady," he said, stepping menacingly toward me, "you're entering my world now. Don't try to assert yourself. I expect the access, or Spencer can tell you what will happen."

"Uncle Clyde, she'll give you access," Spencer said. "I'll assure it. Just go now."

"Spencer!" I shouted. "Don't tell me what I'll do or not do."

"Vicky, shut up," he ordered. "Uncle Clyde . . . just leave, please. I'll talk sense into her."

Mr. Boyles started toward the doorway. Just before he left, he said over his shoulder, "Listen to Spencer, Miss Valentine. I expect my assurances and my fifteen percent."

I crossed my arms and glared at him as best as I could. He chuckled as he walked down the hallway.

Spencer scowled at me. "You did a good job of getting me to notice you again," he muttered. "How could you be so stupid?"

"Stupid? I thought you didn't even care about me anymore." I brushed past him and headed toward the lobby. "I'm the C-O-W, remember? Big and fat."

"I didn't mean any of it. I broke up with you because I was hurt. I wanted to hurt you. I know I hurt you, too."

"I was hurt, and your uncle Clyde can't have access to Valentine Entertainment financial reports."

"Give it to him. He just wants the hotel financials."

"That's a bigger crime than the inspection fraud. What do you care, anyway? Maybe my physical pain will make you happy again."

"No, I don't want Uncle Clyde hurting you. You already have a limp."

I rubbed my leg from the elevator incident. "He won't."

"What happened to your leg? Did he do that?"

I stopped at the top of the stairs. "I hurt it jumping off an elevator. I was escaping a killer."

His eyes shot open. "What have you been doing? Making illegal deals with my uncle. Killers chasing you. What's happening in this hotel?"

"I don't know. I straightened everything out regarding the sale. It'll be complete by the end of the day."

"Are you going to give my uncle Clyde the access?"

"No." I stormed down the stairs. "What do you care, anyway? Get to the park for your shift."

He chased after me. When I reached the door, he spun me around and pressed me into it. "Don't do it, Vicky. Promise me you'll give him the access. He'll hurt you. He'll maybe even kill you."

"I can't. He'll get his money, so he won't hurt me."

"Even if it was more money than would fit inside Venusville, he wouldn't believe it. He has to know you gave him the exact amount. His brain is criminal and untrusting."

"I'm not a criminal. He'll have to believe me, or maybe I won't pay anymore."

I tried to leave, but he pushed me hard into the door. "Give him the access."

"Let me go." I pushed on his chest, but he didn't budge. "Spencer, you're scaring me."

"Good. It's a preview of Uncle Clyde. Give him the access."

"You hurt me yesterday . . . big time, so maybe you'd like to see me with a couple of broken legs."

"I don't want that in the slightest."

"Why? Why would you care? You're risking your job by keeping me here."

"I . . . " He looked down. "Give him access."

"Give me a reason beyond pain."

His lips pressed together. He was holding something back.

"Spencer?"

"Because I still like you. For all your prejudice . . . I know you care about me, too."

"I do." I put my hand against his face. "My mother made me get involved with your uncle. She wouldn't let me use company funds to fix the ceiling."

"So you used my uncle?"

"He could do it for my price."

"So this sale is illegal?"

"The inspection passed, and no one will ever know—if you don't say anything."

I saw the conflict in his dark hazel eyes and the torment on his face. He moved close to me and pressed his lips against mine. I kissed him back, trembling at his force. His soft lips felt so good. I'd been waiting for this moment for the past six weeks.

"Miss Valentine." Mr. Snear rushed into the hotel.

Spencer pulled back before Snear saw us. I tried to straighten my jacket and compose myself.

"Miss Valentine," he said again, "it's great news about the sale. I've approved it. We should be set with the bank by the end of the day."

"Th . . . thank you," I muttered through my weakened composure.

He shook my hand. "How did you do it?"

"I have many investors. I found one who liked the potential of this place."

"They'll get a great deal. I never thought I could sell this place with all the trouble."

"The ceiling was a huge problem, but it's done. My mother's freeze on the funds will be thawed legally sometime this afternoon. I just need to speak with Ms. Devereaux."

"Thank you. Thank you." He shook my hand again and left.

I turned to Spencer, hoping he'd kiss me again, but he was moving toward the door. "Can we go out sometime?" I asked. His kiss had fulfilled my wish, and I wanted more.

"I don't know, Vicky. Your mother."

"We don't need to get married. It's just a date."

He shook his head. "Still . . ."

"I'll give the access if you'll go to Hawaii Burgers with me."

"Negotiating our relationship. I'm not a hotel, and you're not Vacationland. You can't deal us together."

"It's a perfect pair . . . like we are."

"According to your mother, we're not."

He left, and I didn't chase after him. I wasn't concerned with his uncle Clyde, either. I'd done business with a number of tough people before. If I delivered the money, he'd be happy. It was what he wanted in the end.

The twisting in my stomach stopped. As I left, I pumped my fist. My fortunes had turned. The interns weren't in trouble anymore. I'd have the hotel renovations started tomorrow.

As far as the illegal purchase of the hotel, Clyde wouldn't talk or it would expose him. As for me, I'd made the interns' money safe again. It was worth bending my morals just a little. It would be the last time. I wouldn't do it again.

My only remaining problem? I didn't know how the people who killed Samuel would react to losing. I hoped they'd just leave.
Chapter 12

In Love, Outta Love,

My Heart Is Doing the Hokey Pokey

An hour later, I was in my office at Vacationland. The park was going along at its usual pace, and the guests were numerous. We'd have the hotel paid for and the cash reserves up in a matter of a few weeks. My plan to end the semester with a premier park was coming together.

Whitney wandered into my office. "Spencer told me you completed the deal with the ceiling. Where did you get the money?"

"I got it. Don't worry. That's Vacationland business."

"Spencer didn't look so impressed with the deal you made."

"Nonsense." I tried to cover. "We kissed. He's upset about those feelings."

"He mentioned that, too. It seemed to mean something to him."

"Me, too," I admitted. "I've been waiting six weeks for it, and after I completed the deal, it was so relieving."

"So did it end badly? He didn't seem excited about the future."

"My mother . . . I just can't."

"I get it." But her tone said she wasn't impressed with my choice.

"The deal will close soon," I said to change the topic. "My remaining problem is getting the renovation scheduled. I left a note with the contractor. He should be able to start tomorrow."

"What about the bigger problem? The one where someone killed Samuel, and someone is trying to stop you?"

"They lost. Legally, the sale can't be stopped unless I stop it. I won't because of the interns. So I don't see a problem."

"What if they kill you now? Can it be stopped then?"

"Not really. Vacationland signed off on it. I'm here until it closes, so they'd have to get past park security."

"Those geniuses? I hope you aren't that naïve."

"What can I do, anyway? I have no leads."

"Sure you do. What about those canisters you found when you fell through the hole? Or who else put in a bid for the hotel?"

"I looked up the canisters." I had done a bit of research earlier on them. "They were sold to Titan Corp. They have contract work all over Venusville. I couldn't begin to track them down."

Whitney's face twisted in frustration. "And bids on the hotel?"

"Mr. Snear said I was the first. The other guy coming in tomorrow never got to bid."

"But who was it?"

"He told me it was Daphne Investments. Someone out of Mars was interested."

"Some weird-named corporation. Shucks."

"Funny, my mom's sister is named Daphne. She died during the alien war. I hadn't thought of her in a long time. I have fond memories of her."

"Wait," Whitney said. "Memories. Do you know who owns the zoo next door?"

"No. But I've met the manager . . ."

"I think it was Delphi or Daphne. It was on my police report when I was arrested last semester."

"It can't be the same," I replied. I opened Whitney's police report on the computer and scanned it. I was amazed to see Daphne Investments as the owner of the zoo. "Whit, you might be on to something."

"Who runs the company?"

"I'm looking now . . ." I scanned through several pages on the net. "I can't find anything. Company records like that are stored on Mercury."

"Mercury?"

"The relationship between Earth and Mars is the reason. They didn't trust one another, so they centralized Venusville data. Vacationland has documents there."

"Because Mercury is a neutral planet, like Saturn?"

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe I'll pop over there tonight, get the info, and return in the morning."

"Alone?"

"It's only Mercury station," I said, "not the belly of a beast."

"People have tried to kill you already."

"Tried, but I'm not dead yet."

"Aren't you scared?"

"No," I lied. "Molly wouldn't get scared. I won't, either."

"Forget Molly of Mars," she said. "I'm scared for you."

"You aren't coming, so don't worry. I don't want you to, either, because it would be boring work."

"Thanks. I haven't been able to sleep as it is."

I stood and hugged her. "Don't risk yourself anymore. I have to figure this out."

"I feel bad for being . . . so . . . chicken."

"Don't feel bad for being scared. It's not your problem."

Whitney and I talked for a bit more. She never offered to come with me. Even though I had told her otherwise, I would've liked to have her tag along. Molly would've definitely come. I missed my Martian friend when Whitney left and I was alone.

Eventually, I found my courage. I changed into my only remaining civilian clothes: a pair of light brown cargo pants, a short-sleeved sky-blue polo, and a pair of sneakers. I stowed my stun gun on my hip.

I didn't have my driver's license on Mars, but I did have a learner's permit to drive a small craft. A hovercar or a small space yacht would do. Luckily, Vacationland had a two-seater for business use. I was ready for my quick trip.

I left the office early to visit Roxanne. I wasn't supposed to see her because of the company lawyers, but I felt bad for her. I wanted to let her know she hadn't been injured in vain. The deal was complete, and on Mercury, I'd figure out who was responsible for the attack. Or at least, maybe I'd get a clue.

She was still in the coma. The doctors said they'd let her out of it tomorrow . . . maybe. I hoped to be her first sight. I'd apologize first thing. She was right. I never should've risked the interns' money.

I waited at the hospital until the deal was official. At three in the afternoon, it was. I'd be on Mercury by six. If I could find out the real name of the owner of the zoo, I could figure out why he was trying to stop me. It had to be him. It was the only answer.

Through the main corridor, I walked down to the Vacationland hangar. The colony had many visitors, and today was no exception. People headed in every direction. I was looking forward to reviewing today's numbers for the park. They should be great.

"Miss Valentine," a man said as he hurried up to me. "I need to speak with you. In private."

"Who're you?" I said, immediately defensive.

"Please. Over here." He indicated for me to follow him down a side hallway.

"I don't think so. How do I know you won't try something?"

"Please."

"What do you want? Tell me here or forget it."

"I'm Mr. Lackey with Daphne Investments. I have an offer for you."

My mind tingled with curiosity. I was going to Mercury to figure out who owned the company. Now they had an offer for me. It seemed too coincidental. "Tell me, then."

"The hotel. You just purchased it. I'd like to offer you this much." He held out a tablet with the number on it. The price was five times what I had paid for the hotel, a disgustingly huge amount. My eyes must've given my surprise away because he cooed softly. "You agree?"

"I agree that's a great offer. Anyone would jump on it, but Vacationland has a unique opportunity. Why do you want the hotel?"

"My investment group has its reasons."

"Who owns Daphne Investments?"

"The group is a private firm. They like confidentiality."

"I gathered that from the cloak-and-dagger tactics I've seen. Mostly the dagger."

Mr. Lackey looked confused. "I'm not sure what you're referring to."

I had made my point, though. "I'll review it. I'd like to talk to my mother because she's better at projections than I am. Send the offer to Vicky Valentine, and I'll forward it."

"I will. Please let me know tomorrow."

"Of course. Come to the hotel around three. I can let you know then."

My phone chimed a second later with the offer on it. He thanked me and scuttled off. I eyed him carefully. When I knew he wasn't following me, I headed to the hangar with a hurried step. I had to know who wanted the hotel so bad.

I entered the hangar with some caution. The smell of xenon fuel caught my attention, and so did the silence. I didn't see anyone immediately, so I relaxed.

"Vicky?"

I jumped halfway across the hangar, I was so scared. I was sure my eyes betrayed me. "Spencer." I put my hand to my surging heart. "You scared me."

"My uncle's friends were at the park. I slipped out before they saw me."

"So?"

"So they were coming to hurt you. They want access to the hotel's financials. He wasn't joking or making veiled threats."

"I'm not scared of him."

"Why aren't you? You should be."

"I've faced real alien creatures. I stood in front of a tyton as it destroyed a building with me in it. I faced the alien syndicate with Molly of Mars. Your uncle is merely a goon."

"His weapons are just as good at killing as an alien creature's fangs, a tyton's foot, or a Syndicate's knife."

"I'm not scared, Spence."

"I'm scared enough for both of us. He's coming for you, and he'll hurt you. I know my family."

"Is that why you're here? To protect me?"

"Yes."

"How did you find me?"

"Whitney said you were going to Mercury. She said you might take the company vehicle on a learner's permit. More illegal activity."

"Yeah. I can straighten your uncle out when I get back."

"He doesn't like being jerked around. Some type of retaliation is coming."

"So come with me to Mercury. Protect me like you wanted to."

His face showed conflict. I knew his answer by his eyes. "Never in a million years did I think I'd be running escort on some crazy scheme. Whitney is right. Fourteen-year-old girls should be chasing boys and not making business deals."

I grinned at him. "You're coming with me, so I'm doing pretty well chasing boys."

He grumbled in protest.

I hopped into the passenger seat. "I'll tell you everything on the way."

"Oh man, I see where this is headed."

"And you can't stop it."
Chapter 13

Mercury Rising

It turned out Spencer was a good pilot. He escaped Venus's atmosphere without trouble, we rocketed to Mercury in a few hours, and we were now on approach into the closest planet to the sun. The sun appeared immense out the front of our window. It took up most of our view even though it was millions of miles away.

"Are you sure you didn't take a wrong turn?" I said mockingly as I looked for Earth out the windows. "Mercury looks like the moon."

"No," he huffed, "I didn't take a wrong turn."

"I was joking," I replied. "Geesh. You're so sensitive."

"Are you going to accept the offer for the hotel from the man? It seems fair, and you can pay my uncle back."

"It's a fantastic offer, but no. Or at least not until I get the information about his company from here. Don't you think it's odd they made such a huge offer?"

"I guess," he said. "I'm not much into business."

"Offers don't come in like that," I assured him. "The hotel was closed for months. If they wanted it so badly, why didn't they just make Mr. Snear an offer earlier, even before he put it on sale?"

"Maybe they didn't know about it."

"If they owned the zoo, they knew about it. I did something they didn't like."

"So you set something in motion?"

"Yeah. But I can't figure out what. It's just a hotel."

Spencer flicked his radio on. "Mercury Station, this is Spencer Craft aboard Valentine Firebird 10. Requesting a hangar to land."

It took several moments before someone replied. "Set your automated landing to frequency five. We'll take it from here."

Spencer did as instructed, and the ship glided into the colony on the surface of Mercury. We passed through a massive opening, landing softly in a crater dug into Mercury's surface.

When the Firebird landed, I was the first to hop out to the deck. Spencer followed and thanked the attendant for us and gave him a few credits as a tip. We headed into the heart of the colony.

Even though I tried to shrug away the pain, I limped a bit from the long ride. I tried to hide it from Spencer, but he noticed.

"That leg again," he said. "Doing something stupid with it."

"It's the wound. It stings." I pulled up my shirt to show him the long knife gash on my hip. "Someone threw a knife there."

"Are you serious?" He went to touch it, but I slapped his hand.

"I'm a lady, Mister."

"I didn't mean anything like that," he said. "It's just surprising. My uncle's men did that?"

"No," I replied. "At least, I don't think so. It's the people trying to stop me from purchasing the hotel."

"Who's that?"

"Are you dense?" I put my arms up to indicate the hi-tech station on Mercury. "That's why I'm here."

Mercury station was neutral territory between Earth and Mars. Because of the history of Mars and Earth, there wasn't a central capital for humanity. Mercury station was probably the best choice as no one really wanted to spend much time on the overheated planet. To generate business, its citizens decided to keep records of dealings between earthlings and Martians. Both Earth and Mars owned Venusville, so most of its records were here.

"So you want to find the zoo's owner, Daphne Corp.?" Spencer asked.

"Daphne Investments. The name of the owner should be here. Some things are backward between Earth and Mars. Our relations can mask business information, dealings, and relationships. No one trusts either side, and it all remains hidden here."

"I get it," he said. "My family makes a fortune on the hatred between Earth and Mars."

"I'd like to think we've come a long way because of the alien war. But the old guard, like my mom, will always hold the hate."

He didn't reply. He just nodded.

A part of me thought he understood my loyalty to my mother's wishes. Martians didn't like earthlings involved in their dealings. At least, the older Martians didn't. I couldn't care less, but for my mother, dealing with Earth corporations was difficult. Trust had to be earned, and neither side did much to earn it.

We walked into the main concourse of the light-blue-walled colony with the sleek appearance. Numerous windows showed off the sun and the gray surface, the tint set so the sun was never too bright. Mercury was an odd planet. One side was always hot to the sun, and the other was cold to the night. The temperature variations were extreme, going from an oven to a deep freeze in the blink of an eye.

Three hundred years ago, the pioneers had built the colony into a crater. This allowed the colony administrators to raise or lower the colony into the shadows or sunlight so it never became too hot or too cold. The sun's immense size was breathtaking from so close.

"Should I be nervous about knife attacks?" Spencer asked. He hadn't stopped looking behind us since he saw my hip.

"Mercury is pretty secure," I reminded him. "Remember, we needed to transmit our IDs just to land, so everyone here has been cleared."

"I guess so."

I touched his arm. "Your jittering is going to make us look like criminals."

"I'm just a bit nervous. We've got two groups after us."

"I understand perfectly, Spencer. You think I don't know what I'm doing, but I've had people attack me before."

"So you're comfortable with it. Are you a psychopath?"

My face twisted with offense. "I'm big-time nervous, but more information means more power. Molly of Mars never let nerves stop her because she always had a plan. I have one, too."

"If Molly was here, maybe I'd feel better."

"I'm as good as Molly," I said, more wishful thought than fact, I admitted to myself. "Mercury won't be a problem."

"We'll see . . . Let's get to the records office, Vicky of Venus."

"Ha! We're here." I pushed through the doorway into the records office. It looked like a big library with a central table area for viewing larger schematics. Individual computers sat along the walls, and several tablets were stacked in slots. These were files and information not allowed on the net. I'd have to look through individual tablets to find the owner, the way people had to look through books in the past.

On a computer, I called up the information I wanted. It directed me to a dozen tablets. I grabbed them from their slots and sat at a nearby table.

Spencer remained standing beside me. He looked cute, acting like a bodyguard. I suspected he couldn't stop a fly in a fight, but I appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

"Sit. Relax," I said. "I could be here for a few hours."

I pored over financial records, scanning hundreds of pages of data. The ownership of the zoo was complex, with many different companies owning a portion of it. Daphne Investments wasn't as simple as it seemed.

I found that they had tried a half dozen times to buy the hotel, but Mr. Snear denied every chance. For whatever reason, he was set on not selling to Daphne Investments. It made me wonder why.

The zoo always had a manager operator, so the owner never had to put his name to the place. The manager was responsible for any issues.

After Spencer fell asleep leaning over the table, I continued for another hour or so before I gave up.

"That's it," I said. "I can't find a name to put to the zoo. It's owned by a dozen corporations: Rouge Gorge Corp., Faucon Financial, Cygne Investment Group. The list goes on to a dozen total."

"So who does it say owns Daphne Investments?"

"It doesn't. It has a manager operator."

"So Mr. Lackey doesn't own it?"

"Obviously not," I snapped, frustrated. Immediately, I saw the hurt in his face. "Sorry. It's been a long few hours."

"So you don't know who's in charge . . . but wouldn't someone from their side need to do the paperwork?"

"Yeah. It was submitted years ago. See the date?"

He fingered his chin. "So when I submit a report to you, how do you know I sent it?"

"Because your name is labeled as the submitter. It's basic auditing."

"So doesn't this paperwork have a submitter?"

"Oh," I said. "That would be in the file headers. I hurried over to the tablet I hadn't thought was relevant. It had basic documents from the time of the purchases, nothing anyone looked at twice." I scanned a page. "Says it was reported by Martian citizen . . ." I read off the long number.

Spencer, to his credit, had his phone out. He typed the number into the Mars phone directory. "Says it's a person named Kelvin Ivy Caten, out in the badlands of Mars."

"And what about Rouge Gorge Corp.? They submitted with . . ." I read off another number.

"Lacy Nivvit Keen. She's in Trivium Port. Says she died a few years ago."

"Probably an empty investor now. What about . . ." I read off all the owners, each of them different. I couldn't tell who wanted the hotel for themselves.

Finally, we gave up again. I had Spencer save the information about all the owners. I could do further research from Venus.

I leaned back in my chair, stretching my arms out. "I'm so hungry."

He eyed me softly. It was almost as if he was afraid.

"What?" I said.

"Do you . . . do you want to get dinner with me here? You know . . . considering everything."

My heart skipped a thousand beats in excitement. I played it as cool as I could. "I guess . . . What's your favorite?"

"Tex-Mex . . . It's spicy."

"Like fajitas?"

"Yeah. I saw a place on the walk in. Do Martians have the stomach for it?"

"I don't know about others, but I do. We can share a sizzler."

"So you've had them before?"

"Not since I was nine. We tested them at one of our restaurants." I grinned at him. "The test failed. Martians didn't have the stomach for them."

"I knew it. I'll show you how to load the wrap properly." He grabbed my hand and started to walk away.

I pulled him back. "Hold up, cowboy. We've a mess to clean up."

"I almost forgot." Quickly, like a rabbit, he darted around with all the tablets and replaced them. I hardly had my chair pushed in before he returned.

"Hold on," I said.

"What?" He jumped in place.

"I need to clear our workstation." I tapped on the screen to remove everything we'd searched. I was enjoying teasing him. "There."

He grabbed my hand again. This time, I had no excuses to stop him.
Chapter 14

You Don't Sell the Steak,

You Sell the Sizzle

"Feel the pain," I said in my best Andre Schumacher impression. He was an action movie star with a popular catchphrase.

Spencer laughed once more at one of my feeble jokes. I giggled. We were really connecting again. We hadn't argued at all since we left the records room on Mercury. Neither my mother nor his family problems had come up in the conversation.

"You do the best impressions," he said. "I never would've seen it in you. That's why I like you. You're always a surprise."

"I like that you love my jokes. They're pretty lame."

"The only thing lame about you is that leg of yours."

I rubbed it, thinking about the ache again. "It doesn't hurt with you around."

He smirked. "See . . . you can be just as sappy as you are funny."

I couldn't help but blush at his comment. My attraction to him was growing. I really didn't want to split when we got back to Venus. Valentine Entertainment seemed like just a job and not a dream with him near me. "The view is great." I gulped. "Don't you think?"

The sun blasted into the restaurant. Different colors tinted each window to create a rainbow effect. I found it entirely romantic, especially the green tint highlighting Spencer's hazel eyes.

"You look so beautiful here," he said to me. "I wish we could be together."

"I wish it, too, but my single greatest goal is to run Valentine Entertainment." I used my usual excuse. "How can I give it up, even for you? I've always been told to take care of myself first."

"At the expense of your happiness?"

"I wouldn't be very happy if I sacrificed my dream. It would be hollow love. I'd resent you."

He nodded. "I understand. It would be the same as if I took over my dad's business. I'd have a hollow happiness. I'd be rich. I'd have girls. But I'd be a criminal."

"So you see the problem I have with my mother?"

"It's different."

"Really? Let me ask you this . . . Would you turn your dad in to the police?"

"No. I still love him."

"It's immoral to not act. I don't like my mother's policy, but I love her too much to disrespect it. I could reject it the way you do with your father, but I'd be miserable. Our family business brings happiness to so many families. It's a good, honest business to run, to dedicate my life to."

"Maybe she'd change her mind if she met me."

"I'm afraid not. It's in her core."

"Maybe you'd change your mind if we dated longer."

I wanted to say, "I'm afraid not" again. Instead, I said, "Maybe."

"Maybe is a start. I know you'll do the right thing in the end. It's inside of you."

The waiter brought the sizzling fajita plate to the table. My stomach rumbled at the smell of the peppers, onion, and steak. The waiter put down the tortilla wraps and left.

I looked at Spencer for advice. "What's that green stuff?"

"Guacamole. It has a buttery taste. Slide it on that one, add the sizzling mixings, and then put the greens on the top."

I piled it on as he instructed. We each ate our entire wrap without saying a word to one another. It was comforting to be able to sit in silence without any awkwardness. Oddly, it let me know we had a connection.

"Are you still worried about the hotel?" he asked. "About someone ruining the renovations or something?"

"A little. I'll increase security and warn the contractor. It shouldn't be a problem. It's not like they can make me sell."

"What about the offer? Five times what you paid is pretty good."

"Yeah," I said. "But why that much? Why not swoop in when it went up for sale and outbid me?"

"Slow on the paperwork."

"I don't think they thought I'd get the hotel. They were waiting for something."

"But you did. So maybe if you don't sell, they'll get desperate."

"Something about the property interests them. I got the original blueprints. Maybe it used to be a bank. Maybe it has a pirate's treasure. I'll check them."

"Treasure! I have to know now."

"Don't get excited," I said. "It isn't the lost tomb of a past Martian war."

"Yeah. It'd be too exciting that way."

"This adventure hasn't been as exciting as the others. It's more frustrating than anything."

"Not exciting? What else do you need?"

"Alien creatures, for one thing. It's not a certifiable Vicky Valentine adventure without one of them biting me."

"I hope—"

The thunderous shattering of glass cut him off. A capsule flew through the far window of the restaurant and slid to a stop against the bar. The air sucked out for a second, but almost immediately, the emergency shield peeled over the windows to stop the air loss. In the distance, I caught a glimpse of a ship jetting away from the planet.

The capsule rested on the floor. It rocked back and forth. Something was inside.

"That's one way to beat security," Spencer said. "I think it's a present for you. Somebody wants to boost your adventure rating to a new level."

"Why do I even talk?" I muttered. "Seriously, if words come out of my mouth, just slap me."

Unfolding from the capsule, an eight-legged spider with purple-haired legs and a wonderfully colored crimson top regarded us with its eyes of a hundred-plus lenses. The cougar-sized insect shuffled its padded feet along the floor. Several of the customers ran from the restaurant immediately. The spider grabbed one unfortunate woman, spun her into a cocoon of webbing, and attached her to the ceiling. It took only a few seconds.

I gasped. "It'll eat her later." I removed my stun gun and fired a shot into its face. It reared backward, clearly disturbed. The way it looked at me made my skin crawl.

Spenser put his hand on my shoulder. "I think it knows you."

"You're right," I muttered. "It's eyeing me with a purpose. Probably trained to kill me."

It skittered from side to side. Then it sprang at us.

"Let's go!" Spencer picked up a chair and tossed it directly into the middle of the spider.

The leggy beast slid violently against a table of food, sending it crashing. Guacamole piled on top of its head. It shook the food loose from its fur.

We dashed off, and I lost sight of it when we scrambled into the corridors of Mercury station. "Where now?"

"The hangar," Spencer muttered. "Where else?"

We sprinted down the corridor as fast as we could, but my leg slowed us immensely. Even though he could have gone faster, Spencer stayed behind to protect me.

We could hear screams behind us. I knew it was closing in, but I couldn't run any faster on my lame leg. I couldn't see the spider, either. It could be anywhere. Spencer's head whipped around back and forth. He didn't see it, either.

But it definitely saw us. It jumped down on us from above. Close up, its legs seemed much longer, and it stood high above us. I reacted by sliding on my butt under its snapping fangs and coming to a stop behind it. It lowered its head enough for Spencer to hop over it.

I fired several stun shots into its back. It snapped around, clipping my shoulder with its leg, throwing me against the corridor's wall. I fell to the floor.

Spencer kicked its side when it came at me. I fired another stun shot, but I missed this time.

My mistake was costly. The spider grabbed Spencer, and he let out a muted cry. With speedy and precise leg movements, it twirled Spencer around and wrapped him in a web. Before I could react, the spider sprang on its long, powerful legs. Spencer's body rose to the ceiling, three floors up. I couldn't hope to reach him.

I scrambled up the stairs to my left, coming to the second level. With the open expanse in the middle, I could only watch as Spencer hung from the ceiling. I'd have no chance of getting him from there. He was doomed.

I couldn't have Spencer die, not with it being my fault for continuing on this crazy adventure. I was panicking. Purposefully, I stopped myself and slowed my breathing to think of a plan.

The spider connected six or seven more people to the ceiling with longer webbing. I wasn't a bug expert, but it seemed to be setting up a nest or a hive. I wasn't sure how spiders generally acted, so I could only guess.

I found a ladder to get to the maintenance gangways on the third level. I stayed hidden from view. I could see Spencer. He was in the middle of the ceiling, connected to a support beam. If I could dangle from it and move over to him, I could release him to the floor. The fall might kill him, though. I'd rather die that way myself.

"Spencer," I called.

He didn't move or make a sound.

The webbing might be toxic. I wished I'd worn long sleeves. I wrapped my blond hair into a bun and pulled my shirt tight down along my pants. I was ready to do something. I just needed a plan. I needed to know what the spider was doing.

It was jittering around still, setting up a web. I hoped it would ignore Spencer. Otherwise, my climb along the beam would be harder . . . if not impossible. My plan was simple. I'd do what I had to do and fight whatever came at me.

I crept to the railing of the gangway. The I-beam ran from the gangway to Spencer in the middle, maybe thirty feet. I could do that easy enough on the balance beam in gym class.

Only this time, I'd be upside down.

I jumped on the handrail. Reaching up, I still couldn't grab the beam.

Ignoring all safety concerns, I jumped upward. My right hand grabbed the beam firmly. My left hand hit something sharp along the inside of it. I let go and swung around. I almost broke my wrist, but I managed to keep my grasp.

Using my legs, I swung up to the beam and grabbed it with my heels. I straddled the beam and moved like a monkey, using my arms and feet to get to Spencer.

I was halfway across when the spider noticed me. It sprang down the corridor's ceiling at a rapid pace. I unclipped my stun gun and aimed. This stopped it on the beam in front of me.

"Don't like my bite?" I mocked it.

It bobbed its body up and down. The predator was looking for my weakness. I held my gun steady. My feet and other hand were becoming numb from hanging. One of us would have to blink. My increasingly shaky arm and legs weren't encouraging.

It did a stutter jump at me, not really coming forward.

I shot into its front leg. The leg exploded in a spray of purple crud and slime. It covered my face with a sour-tasting grossness.

Another explosion from its body caused it to drop from the ceiling. Only I hadn't done anything. I looked down.

Mercury security rushed underneath with their real guns drawn. "Miss," one called, "please get down from there."

"I'm trying to save someone!" I screamed at them. If they thought I was vacationing up here, they were huffing too many of the sun's fumes.

"Please proceed back to the railing."

"Do you think I'm on a date with that thing? I'm saving someone!"

"Who?"

"My boy—my . . . my friend. He's in this sack of webs." I scuttled over to Spencer. He was hanging from his feet. The blood in his head must've hurt by now.

I hooked my feet around the I-beam, then let go with both hands and turned upside down to face where I thought his head was.

My stun gun had a knife in it. I holstered it and retrieved the knife. I'd have to give thanks to the Swiss company for their extra effort.

I cut away the webbing to expose Spencer's face. He wasn't readily awake. I slapped his cheek lightly several times. Eventually, his eyes opened.

"Don't freak out," I whispered to him.

"Ahh!" he screamed. "I'm upside down!"

"I said not to freak out."

"I can't guarantee something like that. Cut my hands free."

I did as he instructed. He was still wedged into the webbing at his legs. "If I cut your legs free, you'll fall," I said.

"I see that," he said. "Maybe I can grab . . . nope."

"Kids!" someone called from below. "Look down. We have a portable airbag. Drop into it."

"Okay!" I said. "I just need to cut him loose."

"Do it."

"One sec." I looked down and then at Spencer. "It's an airbag. Hug me and I'll cut."

He wrapped his arms around me. I put my arms around him and managed to reach the last cord holding him up. I sawed back and forth.

Suddenly, we were falling, angling back toward center, when the airbag exploded around us. I felt the blanket and air wrap around us and slow us immediately.

The pillow pushed around us, and we were alone for a moment. Spencer kissed me, pulling me in tight. I didn't resist. In fact, I pushed into his lips harder. It was the most romantic moment in my life. For a split second, I loved him. Or I knew what love felt like.

We kissed until the security men pulled the last of the pillow from over us.

"That is the sappiest thing I've ever seen," the security chief chided us.

"We had a giant bug chasing us. Give us a break." I helped Spencer to his feet. I rubbed my lips, hoping I didn't look out of sorts.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," the security man kidded again. "Are you okay?"

"Thanks. That thing was shot into the colony in some type of capsule."

"Alien tech," he muttered. "It's dead."

When we turned to the splattered mess, it moved.

"Are you sure?" I stepped back.

Spencer pulled me in closer to protect me.

The back of the creature split open. Jumping out in what seemed like handfuls, three or four dozen baby spiders skittered around the corridor. The cat-sized creatures looked like their parent, except blue and not purple.

I let out a muffled cry and reached for my stun gun.

Spencer pushed my hand down. We backed out of range, and the Mercury guards opened fire. The baby spiders hopped and grappled the faces of several of the guards, who dropped to the floor unconscious. These weren't doing the same attack as their mother. They had a different kill method—one I didn't care to figure out.

More guards rushed in. We stumbled down the corridor until we were out of range. Or so I thought.

From the side, a spider slammed into my shoulder. My feet fell out from under me, and I hit the floor hard. I put my forearm between my face and the spider. It pushed hard against it.

A long tongue extended toward me. It slapped against my lips trying to force itself down my throat.

"Vicky!" Spencer shouted.

"It's trying to make out with me!"

He grabbed the spider along its sides and threw it against the wall. On his knees, clutching his hands, Spencer cried out in pain. I didn't know what was wrong, but he was screaming.

The spider stirred. I wiped the bitter slime from my face and pushed back my disheveled blond hair. I narrowed my eyes. Reacting in anger, I jumped into the air.

The spider flipped from its back to its legs. But I was already coming down. I slammed my boot hard into its spine. A loud crack echoed through the corridor.

I turned toward Spencer to see what had happened, and my foot slipped on the bloody mess under my treads. My bad leg split outward, and I yelped in pain. I rolled on the floor.

Spencer crawled over to me. I was on my knees, warning away the pain. He put his head on my back.

"What a pair we are!" I muttered.

"My hands . . . sting all over."

"What happened?"

"It had spikes under its fur. Not a fluffy cat. I hope it wasn't venom."

"I don't know." I rubbed my leg. "I feel better. Can you walk?"

"I think so. I'm not loopy. It just stings."

We got to our feet. Almost immediately, medical personnel came to assist us. It turned out the spider babies were eliminated quickly. However, the guards with the spiders on their faces were taken away. I wondered if I'd ever know what happened to them.

The med team ran a regenerator over Spencer's hands. He was better within a few minutes. My scrapes and bruises went away, too. Obviously, they couldn't do anything for my bad leg. I really needed the surgery.

After getting clearance, we arrived back at the ship. It was nine.

Gingerly, I rolled into the passenger seat.

Spencer fired up the startup sequence. "Do you think you can find anything?" he asked. "They really want you taken out."

I leaned my head back in the seat with my eyes closed. "I'm starting to think I've got even more people after me now. Not just your uncle and the mystery buyer."
Chapter 15

Wakey Wakey, Sleepyhead

During the flight back to Venus, I reviewed the blueprints and the reports Spencer and I took from Mercury. I couldn't make heads or tails of any of it. I was just so tired. I'd need Roxanne to take a look. That techy stuff was her strength.

Early the next morning around four, I got my wish. Roxanne was awake and asking for me. I hurried over to the hospital right away.

She was sitting up when I arrived, eating a bowl of vanilla pudding. She looked in good spirits. A few days of napping must have helped.

"Hi, Roxy," I said. I was a bit worried she might be mad at me. "How're you feeling?"

"Back to normal . . . I'm afraid I owe you an apology."

"Me? I thought it should be the other way around."

"The ceiling was booby-trapped. I saw something blinking, and I touched it. I set it off. You know the rest."

"Mr. Samuel hadn't seen anything. That's odd."

"I definitely saw it."

I gazed at the bruising along her hairline. "I'm so sorry. I really should be apologizing to you."

"That's the thing. You did risk our money, but the hotel wasn't a failure because of you. Someone did it on purpose."

"It's been crazy. Two, maybe three groups are trying to stop me. It seems like another one comes at me every day. I had park security outside my door last night so I could sleep."

"You look tired," she said.

I sat beside her. "I am. I'm also close to discovering the truth. I just need the passcodes for a report from Samuel. It will tell me why he was killed and—"

"He's dead!"

"Shoot. Yeah, someone killed Samuel. I was attacked here and on Mercury." I told her the rest of the story. Her increasingly horrified face didn't make me worry any less.

"You should really go back to Mars, then," she warned. "This is too frightening."

"Would Molly leave?"

"No."

"So I won't, either," I replied. "I'm getting closer."

"You're not Molly of Mars, though."

"I can have an adventure on my own."

"That doesn't make it less dangerous. What was on Mercury?"

"This." I handed her a tablet with the blueprints.

She looked them over for a few seconds. "This is the hotel?"

"Yes. All four floors."

"And the basements?"

"Basement," I corrected her. "It has storage. I was down there. It's pretty packed with sheeting and pillows. Hotel stuff."

"But it's basements plural," Roxanne said. "See the rooms here?"

"Isn't that part of this basement?"

Roxanne thought for a moment. "I see how you're mixed up. No. This is a different basement. The measurements are different."

I grabbed the tablet. My eye for this stuff wasn't good. It must be how Roxanne felt when I read the financials to her. "Okay. So how do I get to it?"

"From there." She pointed to the doorway.

"No," I said. "Mr. Snear had a conversation about the basement when I was there. The ramp going down is the only access point for it. It's actually a safety hazard that I'll need to correct. He said it wasn't necessary, but I know better."

"So this spot is walled over?"

"Yes."

"You sure?"

I pulled out my phone and showed her the pictures for the renovations. "See? I sent all these to the renovators."

"I'll figure it out, then." She studied the blueprints for five or ten minutes.

I relaxed in the chair. My thoughts drifted to Uncle Clyde and whether he would break my legs or do something worse. Spencer was worried . . . so maybe I should be. My problem was that I was more concerned with the big offer. Financially, it was a dumb idea for the buyer and a win for me. I didn't like it. No one gives up money that easily without a bigger reward. I needed to figure out what that was.

"Roxy!" Whitney, with Becky, bounded into the room. "We got your message. We would've been here sooner, but someone had to shower and get ready."

"Hey," Becky said. "I've got work after this reunion."

"It's okay," Roxanne said. "Vicky was telling me about her adventures."

"I'll bet she didn't tell you that she and Spencer are back together," Becky chided me. "Finally, a double date I can enjoy."

I waved off the comment. "'Back together' is a loose term. I'm sure my mother will complicate things again."

Whitney waved her hand. "He's over it. It was in his eyes when he told me."

"I forget sometimes that you're roommates," I grumbled. "I didn't get to surprise you with the news."

"With the pain I've been through because of it," she replied, "I deserved to know right away."

"Yeah, I did make life boring for a bit," I said. "Roxanne thinks there's an old basement under the hotel. Wanna go find it?"

"For sure," Whitney said. "I'm sorry I chickened out before. I should've gone to Mercury."

"If you had, Spencer might not have come with me. It was fate."

"Gag!" Becky made fun of me. "If I'm going to be crawling around in a basement, why did I shower?"

"Exactly," Whitney said. "I told you it would be a waste."

"Let's go, then." Roxanne jumped out of the bed. "I need to get my legs moving again."

"But—"

"Don't, Vicky," Roxanne interrupted. "Breaking me out of the hospital makes us even."

"So you know how to get to the basement?"

"For sure."

"Well . . ."

"Not until we get to the park," she said coyly. "It's my guarantee."

I nodded my head. "Blackmail. I see how it is."

Whitney and Becky chuckled. Roxanne changed, and we fled the hospital before the next nurse check. My mystery hotel had a mystery basement. I couldn't wait.

"Why're we in the park if the hotel has the basement?" Becky asked as we stood behind the ticketing office.

"I told you," I replied. "Roxanne says the only way to the mystery basement is through our loading dock. You know the park has sublevels."

"Oh, she knows." Whitney laughed, implying that Becky and Troy had gone down there.

"I want details," I replied.

"Okay, okay." Becky blushed. "It's down here. How do we find it?"

"It's right here," Roxanne said. "The supply closet."

All three of us said in unison, "The supply closet?"

She pointed to a door that I'd never been through. "It's probably not actually a supply closet. The door is big enough for a hoverloader to fit through."

I agreed. I remembered the tour of the park I took when I started. They couldn't find the code, and I must've forgotten about it. It was just a broom closet, after all.

"So how do we open it?" Becky asked, testing the lock. "It isn't budging."

"It's magnetically sealed," I said. "All of our doors are."

"Do you have a universal key for the park?" Roxanne asked.

"Oh yeah, duh." I entered the code into the keypad to the side of the door. It buzzed red. No access. "Hmm . . ."

From down within the loading ramp, I looked up. The hotel loomed over us as if mocking me. I kicked the door in frustration.

"Hey," Roxanne said, "this isn't one of those fancy keypads. Don't break the door." She retrieved her pocketknife and worked off the outer casing of the keypad. She played with it for a few seconds before reaching her hand into the hole and finally extending her arm fully inside. "Pays to have skinny arms sometimes." The door clicked. "And small hands."

Whitney and I yanked the door completely open. But it didn't open to a broom closet. Inside, there were no brooms, no pails, and no sonic cleaners. It was a hallway.

"Sweet fancy jeepers," Whitney muttered. "What did you buy? This is like opening an Egyptian tomb."

"Why is this here?" I asked. "Why didn't Mr. Snear mention it?"

"He might not have known about it." Roxanne said.

Whitney waved us forward. "Let's see what's inside. Vicky, you go first."

"Now I'm the leader you want to follow." I put my hand on my stun gun. "Let's get on with it."

I led the girls down the hallway: Whitney behind me, then Becky, and Roxanne in the rear. I didn't see a doorway anywhere up ahead. We came to a turn and stopped before looking around it.

"What's around the corner?" Becky whispered.

"Shh." I hushed her. "I'm looking."

I peered around. There were four doors. Two led to one side of the underground, and the others led to the other side. It was odd to see basement levels on a floating colony. But the main level of Venusville had proven more unusual than I ever expected.

"Doors," I said. "Pick one, Whit."

"Door number one. What else?"

We turned the corner and tiptoed to the first door. There wasn't a keypad on it. It was a simple push button. I tapped it, hoping I wouldn't regret it.

The door snapped open. Inside, great roars caused everyone to jump back. Cages lined the walls of a massive warehouse. Inside the enclosures, alien creatures slammed the bars to get at us. The other girls weren't enthusiastic about going in, but I took the lead. I liked alien creatures behind bars. The trouble occurred when they got out.

The cages rattled again as we moved completely into the room. Eventually, the aliens settled down. We relaxed, taking in the awesome sight.

There were furry aliens, eight-legged hard-shelled aliens, four-eyed aliens, and flying alien bugs in every color: purple, pink, yellow, blue, and green. I couldn't believe it. Getting a chance to see them this close was impressive.

"They stink," Becky said.

"Like Troy's feet," Whitney kidded her.

They did stink. I don't think anyone had cleaned the cages in a week or so.

Roxanne pressed a button against the wall. From above, pellets fell into the cages. The aliens pounced on the pellets and began noisily gobbling them up. Obviously, nobody had ever taught them table manners.

"How did you know that button wouldn't open the cages?" I asked.

"It says Food on the label."

"Oh," I said. "Whit, I guess we know where the zoo animals ended up."

"Yeah. What do we do about it?"

"I don't know." I looked over all the cages. "This place is weird."

"Why isn't anyone here?" Roxanne asked. "I mean, to protect it."

"The auto-feeders are an indicator that it's left unprotected. Still, that's a good point. Let's go see the other rooms."

"Shouldn't we just report this?" Becky said. "Haven't we seen enough?"

"No way," I said. "This can't be everything to the hotel. I mean to the mystery. Hiding aliens for a few extra bucks . . . seems elaborate."

"Making bucks is what everything is about," Roxanne said. "You said that yourself. It motivates people to do almost anything."

I shook my head. "Selling a tour to rich folks isn't enough to pay for this. I need to see the other rooms."

We checked the next room. It held a bunch of other alien creatures, only these were smaller and in tanks of water. The fish or lizards or whatever they were swam around. Some glowed in the dark while others sparkled with electrical discharges, like eels.

Whitney really enjoyed this room. She could've stayed longer, but we weren't tourists. We were investigators.

The third room proved so scary none of us would enter it. The cages were several meters tall, and the creatures inside were huge. I recognized one that was troll-like. I'd seen it on Mars with Molly. The cages boomed with thunderous jolts from the aliens.

I shut the door before they could become even more motivated. "No way," I muttered.

"Good call," Becky said from behind Whitney.

"Did you really think I could protect you?" Whitney said as she pulled Becky's fingers off her shoulder.

"Sorry," Becky replied. "Just a reaction."

"It's okay," Whitney said. "Should we even open the last door?"

"Of course," I replied. "The last door is always the most interesting."

With a flick of my finger, I opened it. To my shock, the room was filled with stacks of tablets. I grabbed the closest one and snapped it open.

The information in the tablets was the real value of this place. It would lead me to the head of this operation.
Chapter 16

One Secret Down, a Dozen to Go

After fifteen to twenty minutes of everyone opening up tablets and looking at the information, the other girls gave up.

"This is boring," Becky stated.

Whitney and Roxanne concurred. Me, I found it fascinating. The companies listed in these tablets were the ones I'd found owning the zoo. Only everything in these financial records was illegal.

I saw untaxed money movements, mostly from Mars to Earth. Since the governments were different, neither would know what taxes were paid. Mars had made those types of money transfers illegal years ago.

There were also false companies. A false company either was a company set up to show profit where there wasn't one or used to take a loss from another company. The real company would dump the loss into the fake or shell company. They were called shells because they were like rotten eggs: they looked fine from the outside, but nothing good remained on the inside.

I was surprised to see such records written within a tablet. A court case would end everything quickly. So why did these records exist? Even criminals had to do business, and an illegal business needed to keep records. If not, they wouldn't know if it was successful or not.

"Can we go yet?" Becky complained. "My shift starts in twenty minutes, and I want to see Troy."

"Yes," I agreed. I took the four main tablets connecting everything together. The rest weren't useful without these tablets. I thought keeping them might help me later.

"Did you find anything?" Whitney asked me. "You looked awfully intense reading those docs."

"I hope so," I said. "I think I know why the zoo is so worried about me getting the hotel. Roxanne was the key to figuring it out."

"I was?" she said.

"Sort of. Everyone knew I wanted to start the renovations on the hotel today. This facility is underneath the hotel. The plans I submitted to Inspector Samuel involved adding another level to the hotel. I wanted a deck with a pool and other cool things to look over the park."

"So?" Whitney said. "Showing off to us now?"

"No," I said. "I'm not like that. The important part is that I knew I would need more support under the hotel to get extra height."

"I get it!" Becky said, jumping up and down. "So they'd need to put it into this basement that wasn't even here."

"Exactly." I snapped my fingers. "We'd find the secret. Someone wanted to keep it secret. If I hadn't wanted to renovate, they would've kept quiet."

"So what do we do about it?" Roxanne asked.

"That's where it gets tricky. I have several different people after me. So let's go to work, and I'll think it over."

"Great idea," Becky said. "Let's actually leave this time."

I chuckled. "One thing, though. I need a favor."

"Anything," Roxy said. "What do you need?"

"Whitney, can you help Roxanne make sure those auto-feeders work? I'll be back in a second. Becky, have security come to the loading ramp. We need some help."

They each hurried to their assigned tasks. I went into the inventory shack on the loading dock and found the one item I had hoped never to use at the park. For this door, it was perfect.
Chapter 17

The Ugly Duckling

My plan for the hotel's underground basement was simple. I took the big magnetic lock used for the main park gates and affixed it to the entrance to the underground facility. Anyone who attempted to get in would see a message stating, Vicky Valentine was here.

It was bold, brash, and probably a whole lot of stupid. I needed to know who was behind everything. I couldn't have my enemy running around in secret anymore. If Molly of Mars taught me one thing, it was that a secret enemy is worse than a known one. It was time to end the secrecy.

Back in my office at Vacationland, I was worried, but having Becky and Whitney with me helped.

"This is you?" Becky said, holding the picture of me at the swan boats in my hometown of Acadia City.

"Yes." I nodded. "I've run the swan boats every summer except for this one. Vacationland was my promotion."

"You're so young."

"You can't tell, but my dad is actually pretty angry behind the camera. I bought those swans from a dealer on Saturn. He made them. They're quite lifelike, feathers and all."

"At eight, you were buying boats?" Becky looked doubtful.

"I did. I have an eye for business. My mom says I'm a natural, so that's why I have to get 'better than an A.'"

"That's pressure," Whitney said. "I understand why you do dumb things."

"Dumb?" I replied. "More like . . . hmm . . . smart."

"Smart at the start," Whitney said. "But somehow you get caught up in danger."

"I don't create danger. These financials are interesting. I've found so many schemes inside of the numbers. It's sickening what the zoo's owners have been able to do."

"If you say so," Becky said, still gazing at the picture in her hand.

Whitney turned to the window and started humming lightly.

I buried my head in the reports again, muttering to myself. "Corbeau Corp. . . . Moineau Financials . . . Geai Limited . . ." I went on and on with the same list of companies.

"Alouette, gentille Alouette. Alouette, je te plumerai . . ." Whitney had gone from humming to singing beautifully in a language I didn't recognize. It was pleasant and nice. Becky and I stopped and watched her at the window.

She continued for another half minute until she sensed our eyes on her and turned. "What?"

"What language is that?" I asked.

"French. You were naming birds in French."

"I was?"

"Yes, and it reminded me of the song 'Alouette.' It's one of my favorite songs I learned from my grandmother. It's about a bird."

I rubbed my forehead. "Those weird company names are French? Like the old language before we used standard language on Earth."

"Martians," Whitney muttered. "Some people on Earth still use the old languages. The song is popular for little girls."

"French birds," I said. "Take a look at this list and see if you can translate the French."

Whitney came over and looked at the tablet. "Raven. Jay. Sparrow. Eagle. Owl . . ." She rattled off the rest of the list.

I picked at my chin. "Hmm . . . "

"Does that help?"

"I don't think so."

"Wait," Becky said. "What're those birds again?"

I furrowed my brow, thinking about what she saw in my picture. "Raven. Sparrow. Eagle. Owl—"

"Crackers!" Becky sat up. "All those birds are the names of your swans."

"What?" I snatched the picture from Becky as Whitney named the rest of the birds. They were exactly the names of the swans. I should've figured that out. Years ago, I named them after other birds as a joke.

"That's a huge coincidence," Whitney said. "Someone is messing with you. Not just anyone but you in particular."

"From the war?" Becky said. "Vicky, you said those companies were made just after the war, when you were ten."

My mind was racing ten thousand miles an hour. I couldn't figure it out. It was creepy to think someone was stalking me after the war had ended.

"What were the names of the owners of those businesses?" Whitney grabbed the tablet.

"Kelvin Ivy Caten and Lacy Nivvit Keen," I said. "Those are the ones I remember."

"Hmm. That might be something." Whitney wrote the names down on a tablet. She shuffled the letters for a minute or so. "Very interesting."

"What're you doing?" My anger was growing. The pit of my stomach told me I wasn't going to like the answer to Whitney's puzzle. "Just stop. It's freaking me out."

"Let her do it," Becky said. "We've almost got this solved."

"But it's my mystery . . . ," I protested.

"Someone else can solve it," Whitney said. "I got it."

"What is it?" Becky came around the desk to look at the tablet.

"All of the owners' names are an anagram."

"Anagram?" Becky said.

"Jumbled letters. Like the letters in spot can be rearranged to spell tops, stop, or opts. They use the same letters in a different order."

"So what is the anagram these names spell?"

"Each one spells the same name." Whitney looked up at me. "Vicky Valentine."

My spoken name had never sounded so horrifying. In an instant, I put the pieces to the entire conspiracy together. I hadn't seen the real villain in this puzzle because it never occurred to me that it could be a possibility.

My knees buckled, and I put my hand on my chair and dropped into the seat. I turned away from Whitney and Becky. I couldn't believe it. My entire life was fake.

"Vicky," Whitney said, "why would someone want you harmed?"

"Did you fire someone from the swan boats?" Becky asked.

"No!" I screamed. "Go back to work. I need to think. This is just stupid. We're starting to see things that are completely a joke. Someone on Mercury faked those records. Someone in the basement did the same thing. It's to mess with me now, not four years ago. This data has to be recent and fake."

Whitney tried to console me. "Why are you so angry?"

"I'm not!" I snapped, pushing her away. "Go back to work. I'm still your boss."

"Vicky." Becky put her hand on my shoulder.

"Don't touch me. And it's Miss Valentine. Go to work."

"Okay!" Whitney shot back at me. "Don't get so bent. Maybe you need some sleep."

"Maybe I do. This mystery is over. I have the hotel. I don't need to play their game anymore."

They tried to wait a few moments to get me to cool down, but I didn't budge. I pointed to the exit. After they left the office, I closed the blinds on the windows.

I found the swan boat picture on the floor. I picked it up and cried into my hands. The truth was so simple. Valentine Entertainment had been the villain the entire time. My mother's reputation for being a premier CEO was a sham. She had set up the shell companies using the swan boats as the company names, my name jumbled up as the owner, and her sister's name as the investment company. It could only have been her because these records were impossible to fake.

I looked at the tablets on my desk and ran my fingers over their smooth surface. I could cover it up. No one need ever know.

And if Becky and Whitney told anyone, I could fail their internships. Valentine Entertainment was at risk. I could save it now. That was my "better than an A" scenario. Leverage.
Chapter 18

Getting Everyone Together to Hug It Out

I sat in my office for the rest of the morning, nervously jittering. The temptation to act immediately was unbearable, but I told myself that I'd send a note to my mom explaining the situation soon. First, I needed to get the other two people off my back: Spencer's uncle Clyde and the mystery buyer. I didn't think my mother would order my death, so I had to rid myself of the rogue person trying to kill me.

If I was going to save my mother and Valentine Entertainment, I needed to do something bold. The idea formulating in my mind involved spacing the both of them. But I knew that I couldn't do that, even if they were both in the airlock. I wasn't a killer. I needed something clever so they would get what they deserved.

Nothing came. I spun in my chair, doing no work. Roxanne was running the park today because it was the furthest thing from my mind.

My phone buzzed. I jumped to my feet. It was the man with the offer.

"Hello?" I said.

"Miss Valentine," the man said with a hint of attitude in his tone, "have you decided to accept my offer?"

"I have some questions," I said to stall him. I needed an idea. "Can you meet me in the park later today? Around three?"

"What's there to discuss? The offer is five times what you just paid for the hotel. Are you greedy? Do you want more?"

"Exactly why do you want it so badly?" I was a bit offended at his "greedy" comment.

"That's none of your business," he said hotly. "My client will remain private."

"I know who your client is," I replied. "Tell—"

"He isn't interested in your threats. He has given you an offer. You should accept it."

"You're right," I said. "Please come by at three, and I'll sign the contract. I just have one request."

"What?"

"Meet me at Vacationland. I have to run the park today."

"That should be okay."

"Thank you."

He hung up. The knot in my shoulder grew tighter. I windmilled my arm to loosen the tension and headed into the main office. I thought maybe moving around would inspire a plan.

Spencer burst into the office a second later. "I'm glad I found you."

"What now?" I asked.

"My uncle is looking for you."

I took a drink from the water cooler. "Don't we already know that?"

"He's a little more motivated this time. He personally threatened you through me. He played you. He isn't a nice man. He wants access to the financials."

The idea hit me instantly. I had two groups who wanted something from me. I'd love two boys to fight for my love. Perhaps these boys needed to meet one another and fight for me, even if they were both disgusting.

I opened my phone and called Uncle Clyde. "Mr. Boyles, this is Vicky Valentine."

"I want access," he replied.

"I'll have it for you at three. I had to get corporate permission to open it to another user."

"Did you mention me by name?"

"Of course not. I asked for it through a close friend and employee here. I'm not dumb."

"I'm coming to get the access codes."

"No," I replied. "Come at three to Vacationland's loading dock. It's next to the hotel. I'll give you the codes there. It's best to remain hidden."

"Don't cross me, Valentine," he growled.

"You come, then. I'll have Spencer with me. Maybe you can make it a family reunion, too."

"Three. Don't be late."

"I won't." I hung up the phone.

Spencer's crossed arms weren't inviting. The scowl on his face terrified me.

"What?" I said.

"Why didn't you say you needed corporate approval? I've been pestering you."

"Because I made it up."

"If he finds out when you give it to him . . ."

"I made that up, too. I'd never give anyone access to Valentine records. That's crazy."

"Vicky!" He grabbed me. "Don't play with him."

"I'm not playing with him. I'm going to make all of my problems go away with one swoop of my hand."

"You can't play this kind of game with him. You're young. You haven't seen what I have."

"I've fought alien syndicates and alien creatures. Uncle Clyde is just like the rest of the bad men Molly would take on. Money and power motivates him. I'll use that against him."

He threw his hands up. "I'll never understand you."

"Will you come to greet Clyde? Maybe stall him a bit so I can bring my surprise to him?"

Spencer looked away from me. He seemed to be thinking hard for a few moments. I wasn't sure why. I hoped he was trying to drum up the courage to face danger.

"I don't want to ruin my family," he said. "If you hurt my uncle, he can hurt my father. I'll be blamed, and maybe I'll never see my brother and sister again."

"You don't want to be like them, though," I said.

"They're bad . . . but they're still family."

"I need your help. I thought you cared about me."

"I do. The risk . . ."

"I understand. I'll take the blame as the snitch. He'll never know it was you. Just meet him and beg him not to hurt me. Tell him you came without my permission."

"Okay," he said with obvious reluctance. "Because it's you."

That statement piled more guilt onto my heart than I ever thought possible. He had no idea about my mother, and he would betray his family so I could protect my mine. I wanted to tell him to forget it.

But I didn't.
Chapter 19

Oh, What a Tangled Web I Weave

When First I Practice to Deceive

I hurried back to the main park after Becky and Whitney helped me set up my insurance in the hidden basement of the hotel. It was 2:55 when I checked my watch at Vacationland's front entrance. I hid out of view, waiting for Mr. Lackey because I needed to confront him first. Spencer waited for his uncle down on the loading dock. I'd have to get both of them together in a few minutes. My hope was they'd frighten each other away from me. Or one would protect me against the other.

It was risky, but I knew I could do it. It was a business deal. I held the assets, and they wanted them. Simple as that.

Just out of view of the park entrance, I saw Mr. Lackey with another man. He wore glasses and a hat, and I didn't recognize him. He was the real secret bidder. I was sure of it. They parted after a short conversation. The man headed toward the loading dock, and Mr. Lackey headed into the park.

I swallowed hard and walked forward into view. I met Mr. Lackey as he passed through the ticket counter. "Mr. Lackey, how have you been?"

"Busy. I have the ownership transfer papers with me. Did you bring the deed?"

"Did you bring the money?"

"I have a datachip. Don't worry."

"Excellent. Let's go to the conference room for privacy."

"That would be best."

We walked into the side office and entered the conference room that faced the hotel. I could see the ramp to the loading dock from it. I wanted to spot Spencer's uncle before I started any of my accusations.

Immediately, Mr. Lackey opened his tablet and started to project the ownership papers onto the big table's display screen.

I moved to the window.

"I have the papers here. This is . . ."

Not listening to his explanation, I eyed the ramp intently. I didn't see Mr. Boyles anywhere, nor did I see Spencer. The hatted man stood at the locked doorway, hitting it with his fist. I was happy he was frustrated. I controlled the asset he wanted. I controlled one player in my negotiations.

"Miss Valentine, are you listening?"

"Yes," I lied. "What about the inspection? Will you trust my results from a few days ago?"

"Of course. I wrote a no inspection requirement into the purchase."

"Explain the details, please."

"Here it states . . ."

While he went into another long explanation, I eyed the ramp again. I didn't see Mr. Boyles, and the hatted man was gone. My plan needed Spencer's uncle. I couldn't wait for him to show. I needed him now.

"Miss Valentine?"

"Show me that your funds are legit. I don't want to waste any more time if your funds aren't here."

"I can assure you the funds are loaded to the datachip. Just plug it into your banking terminal."

I nodded. "And the hotel. What are your plans for the building?"

"Our plans are our affair." His phone chimed, and he excused himself to move to the corner of the room.

I turned to the window and saw Spencer's uncle and another man walking down the ramp. Spencer ran up to meet them halfway down. My second player was here. It was time to act. I was in control, and no one would foil it now.

"Miss Valentine," Mr. Lackey said.

"Mr. Lackey, I've been listen—"

His stun gun came out, cutting off my words. Only this one wasn't used to play commandos. It was a pistol with a blade extending from it. The weapons detectors were good, but they didn't detect knives.

"Mr. Lackey, violence?" I said coolly, but my knees were knocking. "It doesn't become you."

"No more negotiations, Miss Valentine. Sign the papers so I can dispose of you."

"Bad motivation," I replied. "I think I'll just take a seat here." I went for the chair.

"Stop!" he ordered. "How did you find the underground facility?"

"Why wouldn't I know about it? I just bought the hotel."

"We didn't know until a few days ago. You had to know because you bought it out from under Mr. Snear."

"I did what was needed," I said to sound tough and knowing. "It's Valentine Entertainment property."

Mr. Lackey forced a laugh. "Everyone thinks you're some idealistic teenage punk. I see you have some of your mother's tactics in you."

"She taught me well," I replied, "but not about the facility. I found out about it on my own. There were records of it on Mercury."

"So that Mercury trip was fruitful. My client was mistaken to think you were smarter."

"I was smart enough to keep looking after Mr. Samuel died. He was my friend, and you threatened me one too many times."

"That's where you're mistaken. We didn't scare you off on Mercury from buying the hotel."

"Just Mercury?"

"Yes. We didn't find out about the underground facility until later."

"You sent those spiders after me?"

He nodded. "My associate found those spiders. It's why he suspected the hotel after the zoo came up empty."

So the hatted man, his associate from outside, wasn't the one who played the joke on me. Or tried to hurt me when Roxanne was hurt. Or killed Mr. Samuel. My mother's goons did it. Now I didn't know if my plan would help me. I was in trouble. Deep trouble.

"So you want me to sign the ownership over," I said. "Do I still get the money?"

"No, no. And I want you to take the lock down. The magnetic shield lock can't be opened without your access."

"That was the point."

He waved the knife, indicating that I head down to the loading dock. I obeyed, and we traveled down the back stairs. When we arrived at the front of the door, Spencer's uncle came from out of the shadows. A goon from Boyles's gang covered Spencer's mouth.

My players were here, but I feared I had out-thought myself this time.

"Miss Valentine, the games are over."

"Mr. Boyles, I'm here," I replied.

"Where's my access?" Uncle Clyde said. "Give it."

My position remained as unwavering as ever. I didn't intend to give him access to the financial reports. "What about Spencer?"

Uncle Clyde tilted his head. His goon pushed Spencer toward me.

"I hope you have a plan," Spencer whispered to me. "He's in a bad mood."

I nodded. "Mr. Boyles, this gentleman seems to think he has a right to the access more than you do."

"Oh really?" he said. "You think you get access over me?"

"We had a deal," Mr. Lackey said, showing Uncle Clyde his gun. "Miss Valentine is giving me access."

I tried to hide my smirk. He wanted access to the underground lair beneath the hotel, not the financials.

Uncle Clyde scowled. "Double-dealing, Miss Valentine. I should've known something was up. The access is mine and mine alone."

"I told you I'd give you the access," I replied. "You'll have to figure it out with Mr. Lackey. Maybe you can share it."

"Sharing isn't part of my deal with the hotel," Uncle Clyde said. "Maybe I'll end him before he gets access over me."

"My client has credits for the access right here," Mr. Lackey said, holding up the datachip. "Back off."

"I already paid. I'm getting access." Uncle Clyde pulled out a heavy-duty stun gun of his own.

I took a step back, thankful that Venus authorities didn't allow real guns. The look in these men's eyes was scarier than anything I'd ever seen in an alien creature. "I don't want to get hurt, Mr. Boyles."

"Yes, Mr. Boyles." The hatted man appeared from the side. I jumped, and so did Uncle Clyde. "I want the access."

"Who're you?" Uncle Clyde asked.

I gasped. "That is . . . Mr. Samuel. He's dead."

"I asked one wrong question, and I was shot," Mr. Samuel said. "I had a vest underneath, so I faked my death to buy the hotel from Vicky."

"But . . . but," I stammered. "But you were so nice to me."

"Nice?" he replied with scorn. "Your family has been hiding secrets for years. You get a huge apartment in Acadia City, an endless rack of designer clothes, all the latest gadgets. I'm stuck on Venusville."

"I've stolen nothing," I replied. "I'm not going to apologize because my family works hard."

"Except to fake an inspection report to get the hotel. I know about it. I saw right through it, so I asked Mr. Lackey to help me."

Looking around, I realized for the first time that Mr. Lackey had melted away into the shadows. It seemed that he didn't like heavy-duty weapons any more than I did.

"I own the hotel," I said fiercely. "The inspection should've passed except I was sabotaged, so it wasn't a deception. It was justice. Someone set me up."

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that," Mr. Samuel said. "Your family is corrupt, Miss Valentine."

"You can't prove it," I said hotly. Defending my mother was priority one.

"I can with access," he replied. "Then I won't have to show anyone what I found. It's my insurance against any retaliation."

"You're wrong. I know you can't prove it."

"Know?" he replied.

"Yeah. Know. Valentines aren't stupid, and we protect ourselves."

He came at me with a menacing step. "You took it. You little—"

Spencer stepped in front of me, but Uncle Clyde was my biggest protector. He fired his stun gun off the near wall with a resounding pop.

I pulled in tight to Spencer. Mr. Samuel stopped in his tracks.

"Don't think about hurting her," Uncle Clyde said. "She controls the access, so she doesn't get hurt until I get mine."

"You aren't getting any access," Samuel replied. "I told you to get lost. I don't care about your stun gun or your bully. I have people who would bury a low-level criminal like you."

"Don't disrespect me." Uncle Clyde stepped forward with his chest pushed out. "You can't have more friends in Venusville than me."

"I do. Here's why." Inspector Samuel waved his hand, and several Venusville police officers walked out from the shadows, followed by more. They seemed to come from everywhere.

I was stunned, but at the same time, I wasn't. I knew they were involved back when Whitney was falsely accused. It turned out that Mr. Samuel was their puppet master.

"You think Venusville PD scares me?" Uncle Clyde laughed. "They're puppies in my world."

I didn't understand why he wasn't scared. Fifteen officers surrounded us. Spencer was shaking . . . or perhaps I was. My plan was crumbling before me. Uncle Clyde couldn't protect me against the police.

"My men should scare you," Mr. Samuel said. "I've been sharing inspection kickbacks with them for years."

"Corruption," I muttered. I really had thought Mr. Samuel was a good man, someone I could trust, but he turned out to be the worst person here. "Shame—"

"Sorry to ruin your perception of me, Miss Valentine."

"I don't get one thing," I said. "If you controlled the police, how did you not know about the secret basement? The police controlled the aliens."

"They never controlled the aliens," Mr. Samuel replied. "We just found them."

"Wrong. I saw them in the zoo. When they set up my friend."

"Really . . ." He trailed off. I understood instantly that the police officers had two sides to their loyalty.

Uncle Clyde just smiled.

The police officers turned their guns on one another. No one knew who was the enemy or the ally. In an odd sense, it was reassuring and scary at the same time. No one wanted to make a mistake. They had been doing underhanded things to each other for years, while my mother sat on Mars and collected the credits.

"All the cards are on the table," I said. "I guess it's time to decide."

"Decide what?" Uncle Clyde asked.

"Which one of you gets to take the blame for the aliens inside the facility. One of you has to."

"Miss Valentine," Uncle Clyde said, "I didn't think you had it in you. And you acted so naïve at my restaurant."

I eyed him. "I wasn't so crafty until I had to deal with the two of you. Threatening me to give you access to what belongs to my company. Trying to stop me from purchasing a hotel. I've never seen two more despicable people in my life."

"What's gotten into you, Vicky?" Spencer said. "This isn't you."

"They threatened my family," I said gloomily. "I'm going to make someone pay. I control the access. I control this situation."

"Don't," Spencer said. "My uncle knows how to get access if he needs it."

"Open the door," Mr. Samuel said as he put the stun gun to my ear.

In my other ear, Uncle Clyde did the same with his stun gun. "Yeah, open it. What's in there?"

"Oh boy. I didn't see this coming," I admitted. My enemy and my enemy being friends didn't seem possible given their criminal backgrounds. Here I was, facing double deafening and maybe permanent brain damage. I had overplayed my hand.

"I told you so," Spencer muttered.

"Thanks, Spence," I mumbled back. "I really needed that."

"Open the door," they both said.

I looked helplessly at the men with their outstretched stun pistols. It was time to cash in my insurance. "If you insist."
Chapter 20

And Let Slip the Aliens of War

I entered the code into the lock on the door that led to the underground basement at the hotel. It clicked several times before the shield fell flat.

Pushing me to the side, Mr. Samuel activated the door. It snapped open with a nasty surprise!

A swarm of alien insects struck Mr. Samuel in the face. He wailed in agony and fell over. Uncle Clyde dove to the side. I grabbed Spencer and pulled him to the ground. I hugged him, and we rolled out of the way of the door. The police officers and Uncle Clyde's goon scattered, waving their arms at the swarm of insects and yelling as they ran away.

Just as I looked up again, several of the bigger alien creatures tore out the doorway. Several of them jumped up the long wall and headed into the park. Others tore up the ramp into Venusville. However, one alien took notice of Spencer and me.

Spencer stepped in front of me, stupidly, I thought. I'd taken on alien creatures before . . . I wasn't sure if he knew what he was getting into. So I pushed him back.

"Don't fight it," I whispered. "Just survive."

He nodded.

The creature was seven feet tall with a long, skinny body. It stood on its hind legs. With its hard, scaly, dark green skin, it looked like a praying mantis.

It hissed. I jumped back. Spencer readied to fight it.

Uncle Clyde shot it square in the side of the head. It dropped to the ground, its head split open, green brains scattered everywhere. That stunner had more punch than Clyde should have been allowed to have.

"Thanks," I said. "For saving us."

"I saved you," he rasped, "so I could kill you." He pointed the gun directly at me.

Spencer struck his uncle's arm with a crowbar. The stunner rattled along the ground.

I looked at Spencer. The hurt in his eyes because of what he had done was apparent. He shot me a glance, and I knew we'd never be together again. He had sacrificed too much for me. I had pushed him too far in my quest for the truth. For me, he had betrayed his family.

His uncle punched him square in the jaw, knocking him to the ground. I went to see if he was okay. Uncaring, his uncle kicked me hard on the side of the head. I sprawled across the ground, my hands and shoulder scraping raw on the concrete. I groaned as his uncle stood over me.

"I told you not to play games with me. Now you will die, Vicky Valentine."

"Your friends aren't here. It's just you and me," I said defiantly. "You might be bigger than me, but I'm always one step ahead."

"Really?" he snapped at me. He grabbed me by my hair and dragged me to the other side of the loading dock.

I squealed at the intense pain and tried to get to my feet. I couldn't. He had hold of a huge tuft of my hair.

"Let me go!" I screamed. "You care for Spencer. I know you do."

"Not more than someone stealing my money." He pushed my head against the ground. The forklift loomed above me.

"I was never going to steal your money," I said.

His boot pressed into my neck. He was reaching for something.

"You wanted into the hotel's financials so you could get details on what my mother was doing," I said. "You did work for her. You were greedy."

"Shut up. Those corporations have been underpaying me for years, especially your mother."

His admission truly meant my mother was guilty. I knew she was guilty when I heard the swan names and the anagrams of my name, but his words still hurt. I almost wanted to die rather than to fight.

I heard the forklift lower. He was planning to crush my head underneath it. I deserved it for lying to my friends. For risking their future. For being a Valentine.

The metal fork touched my ear and stopped. The pressure was heavy. He was taunting me. Even though the screams in the distance were frightening, I could really use another alien right about now. I was frightened. I was defeated.

Uncle Clyde kicked me in the stomach.

I bellowed a deep guttural cry and curled up in pain.

"I'm going to pop your head like one of your teenage zits," he mocked.

Furious, I kicked at him. It didn't help.

He laughed wildly. "Seeing a Martian under the boot of an earthling is always amusing to me."

"Shut up, you cow! I'll rip your face off."

"Time to die, Vicky Valentine."

I braced for the end.

Instead, Uncle Clyde fell to the ground with a thud, a green tentacle sticking through his stomach. Seconds later, the forklift rose. I got to my knees and looked up to see Spencer's horrified gaze. His mind seemed to be somewhere else, and his hands held the other end of the alien tentacle. Whitney and Becky were at the controls of the forklift.

"You'll never escape, Valentine," Uncle Clyde muttered. "We own the police."

"You mean the ones that are afraid of alien bugs?" I asked. "They all ran away. Martian Command should be here in a few minutes."

"I hope you're right," Whitney said. "Roxanne called it in, but what if they don't show up?"

"They will," I said. "Aliens are running around Venusville."

"Uncle," Spencer said. He dropped down beside his uncle and held him gently. "I couldn't let you kill her . . . but I'm sorry."

"Spencer," Boyles said, sounding as if he was in great pain, "you should never have gotten involved in my world, in your dad's world. I knew it wouldn't be good for you."

"I didn't want to. She made me. I didn't know she would contact you, but I liked her, so I helped her."

They held hands. "Just stay with me, nephew."

"I will," he said. "I'll make it up to you."

"Spencer, you can't," I said. "He'll hurt you."

"Get away from me, Vicky," he snapped. "You dragged me into this criminal world. I thought you were the first girl . . . I thought you were my savior from my family."

"I love you. I found out . . ." I couldn't say my mother was guilty. "I know how wrong I was to push you away."

"Did you hear her?" Spencer said to Becky and Whitney. "She used my uncle to fake the inspection report. Vicky is the criminal behind this."

"I wouldn't . . . I didn't . . . I never did it."

"Is it true?" Whitney asked. "About you getting help from the mob?"

"No . . . well . . . ," I muttered. I looked at Becky for help. She didn't offer anything.

"Tell us," she said.

"Tell them, Vicky!" Spencer shouted. "You made me kill my uncle."

"He's not dead yet!" I shouted. I stepped up to Whitney and Becky. "Whitney, help him. Becky . . ."

Becky pushed me away. "Get away from us, Vicky. You caused this to cover your butt, not for justice."

Whitney didn't say anything, but her eyes glowered at me as she moved to help Uncle Clyde.

I looked at them. I was alone. No one would believe that I was trying to stop Uncle Clyde and Mr. Samuel from ruining my family. "Maybe I thought about doing something criminal, but I didn't do anything wrong. Please believe me. Uncle Clyde was behind creating those fake companies for the zoo. He hired someone to get the aliens. Mr. Samuel figured out about the basement and tried to get it for himself by faking his death and threatening me."

"Who hurt Roxanne?" Spencer asked. "Who created the hole so you'd fall through? Who tried to kill Mr. Samuel? Something is missing, and you know what."

"Tell us who else is involved!" Whitney shouted.

I couldn't. I wouldn't betray my mother. Not to them. "I don't know."

"Liar," Becky said. "You're the cow."

"Becky, please." I was desperate for the words to stop their hate. "I—"

"Everyone stand still!" a voice boomed from the top of the ramp.

I fell to my knees, crying. My tricks and planning had blown up in my face. I was guilty of being a Valentine . . . of acting like a Valentine. The quest to make a better park, more money, and to get "better than an A" had cost me my integrity. I was crushed. My friends knew I had more information, but I denied it to save my family. They saw through to the liar inside. I hated myself.

The Martian Command soldiers moved down the ramp. My plan had unfolded imperfectly. It wasn't as clean as I would've liked. I opened the door and showed everyone what the two groups were hiding. I thought it would be enough.

Whitney looked at Becky with a hopeless expression on her face. I knew then that Clyde would be dead soon.

Spencer's dejected face split my heart in two. With Mr. Samuel dead from the alien wounds and Uncle Clyde about to die, none of the men would say anything about my mother. They were the only ones who had known she was involved. My mom played all of them, and I finished it for her. I didn't want to do it. But I had.

I had echoed deep into my soul. I wished it was by accident, but really, I had helped her cover up my family's big secret. I felt terrible. I had all the evidence in my office, and Martian Command would never see any of it. I'd made my first executive decision for Valentine Entertainment. My mom didn't know it, but I was running the company already.
Chapter 21

The Villainous Vicky of Venus

Two weeks had passed since I set up Boyles and Samuel to take the fall for the hidden facility. I suffered no guilt about doing that. They were guilty. My mother wasn't mentioned in any of the investigations.

I felt horrible about the deaths of Boyles and Samuel, though. Spencer wouldn't talk to me. I think I had finally done enough to drive him away forever. I had done the same for Whitney and Becky, too. Roxanne was civil with me but only because she had to keep her job to keep her scholarship.

I was alone. I couldn't live with myself any longer, so I was in the only place I knew I could end my personal hell.

"So, Miss Valentine," the investigator said, "tell me the story of how you figured out their plot. You said you had more information to add."

I was in the office of Martian Command with Investigator Eugene Denney. My purpose was clear. I was going to tell him everything because that's what Molly would do. That's what I would do. I just didn't realize it until it was too late.

It didn't seem like it on the news, but a financial crime was a major crime. Even if it was just money being passed around by using tricks, it was illegal, and my mother should be punished. It was illegal for a reason. Its victims weren't physically hurt, but they suffered just the same.

"First," I said, "I want to say that it was extremely difficult for me to make this decision. Mr. Boyles and Mr. Samuel are guilty. I can't stress that enough."

"They were caught red-handed. Not only did they threaten your life, but they risked the lives of everyone in Venusville. Alien creatures are extremely dangerous, not to mention illegal."

"Those companies Mr. Boyles set up for other corporations. I feel so terrible that it happened."

He shook his head, clearly angry. "Without any reference, those companies can't be traced to any companies across Mars. From what we dug up, I think at least twenty corporations have been evading taxes and engaging in profit fixing. Hundreds of victims have gone without support."

"That's why I came. For them." I pulled four tablets from my briefcase and slid them across the table. "These show everyone's guilt."

He eyed me with a soft look. "These tablets have the tracing keys?"

I nodded. My throat had a frog the size of Venus in it. "Yes, sir."

"You had these the entire time?"

"Yes, sir."

"I asked you if you had any more information two weeks ago. This would've helped—"

"It shows that my mother is a criminal. I couldn't tell you then. But . . ."

He looked at me for a long moment. "You might face some punishment."

"I understand, sir. I didn't know anything about this. I just wanted to buy a hotel to help Vacationland. I was in charge. It was my mother's biggest mistake."

Tears rolled down my cheeks. I didn't wipe them. I tried to be professional about the whole situation, though my heart was in pieces. My nerves were fried. My whole life I had wanted to run Valentine Entertainment Corp. Instead, I had destroyed it. My family would never forgive me.

He looked over the tablets for a long few minutes.

I sat without shifting or even moving a muscle. My bad leg was hurting, and I'm sure the tears on my face made me look dreadful, but I refused to move. The pain was what I deserved.

"Is it all there?" I finally muttered.

"It appears so." He put the tablets down. "This will rock Mars. Almost all the big corporations are listed."

"I understand how it works, sir. I'm afraid for my family."

"So why didn't you keep it a secret? If you had tossed it into the acidic rains of Venus, I never would've known."

My lips formed a thin line. "Sir, Molly of Mars taught me to do the right thing, not the easy thing."

"But 'easy' would protect your family. 'Easy' would let you go without punishment."

"I know," I gulped. "My life would be a lie. I couldn't live with it or I'd end up insane. I'd be a phony. Are you going to arrest me?"

"No. You didn't do anything too wrong. Holding this evidence can be forgiven . . . considering your choice."

"And my mother?"

"She'll be removed from her position as CEO of Valentine Entertainment and will probably serve jail time. What becomes of your family is up to your family to decide."

I wept openly into my hands. I had tried so hard to make her proud, but instead of getting "better than an A," I had failed "beyond an F." Mr. Denney handed me a wad of tissues. In a way, I didn't want his comfort, but I appreciated it. I had no one anymore. My family would never take me back, and sorrow consumed me.

"I should've destroyed the information," I mumbled to Mr. Denney. "I want to take it back so badly."

"I understand. You did the right thing. I've never been prouder of anyone in my life."

"That'll never take my pain away."

"You did it so you would live without guilt because it was the right thing to do. One day, your family will realize it."

After some time and more statements, he escorted me from the office. I cried in the hallway again, but eventually I had to compose myself. I forced my business mindset to take hold. It was all I knew. I pulled it together and shook it out.

I walked out of the Martian Command office with my head down, but my composure intact. At least I had something.

The next three days dragged slower than a slug running a marathon. My mother was arrested on Mars, my brothers sent me nasty messages, and my father replied with a short message that he was coming to Venus. I didn't know if he'd space me, if I could live in the house again, or if he was coming to drop off my belongings. I just wanted everything to end.

In my office, I put my personal items into a box and readied it for my successor. "Here are the keys," I said to Roxanne. "Ms. Devereaux knows what to do. Just ask her for anything you need. Assistant manager is a good resume-builder. She's back in charge."

"Thank you," she said. "I know everyone is mad at you, but you did something no one would've done. Not even Molly."

"I still feel lousy. I just wanted to run Valentine Entertainment. That's all I ever wanted."

"You will," Roxanne said. "On your twenty-first birthday. They worked out a deal so the Valentines still hold ownership. You just can't run it for seven years."

"My mother pleaded guilty for me. I turned her in. I'm a terrible daughter. Why would I want to run the company?"

"You'll run it your way," Whitney said from the doorway. "That's why. She was wrong. You did the right thing when you could've destroyed the evidence."

"But—"

"Don't ruin yourself, Vicks," Becky added, coming through the doorway with Whitney. "We weren't happy when we found out you lied to us . . ."

"But when we found out why, we understood," Whitney concluded. "You're our friend forever. You always do the right thing . . . even if you cause all your problems."

I laughed a little. "I didn't want to hurt anyone. I really hurt Spencer, though."

"Yeah," Whitney said. "He left for Earth. It was nice of you to give him the scholarship money even if he quit."

"I forced him to leave," I said. "Maybe if I hadn't been so gung ho about the hotel and my mother's rules, we could've had something."

"He has his own family issues," Whitney said. "They got in the way. Don't worry about him. He's tough. He'll find someone."

"But not me," I said. "My first love and he's gone."

"The first," Roxanne said, "but not the last."

"We'll be back on Mars in three months to help you out," Becky said. "I'm in Trivium Port, so it's only a train ride away."

"I'll be in Acadia City," Whitney said. "The hospital needs me for the spring. I'll bet all three of us can hit the town together every weekend."

"Don't forget me," Roxanne said. "I might be the assistant manager, but I'm not stuffy and strict like the last one."

I put my hands on my hips in mock outrage. "I was never stuffy."

The girls laughed loudly.

I grinned. "I'll meet up with you, but I don't deserve to."

"Maybe not," Whitney said, "but when I 'follow the money,' I find you with a heart of gold."

"So sappy!" I said loudly. A surge of happiness hit me. I did have great friends: Molly and Pirra on Mars, and now Becky, Roxanne, and Whitney. Maybe I would pull through if my father didn't kill me.

I told the girls that their farewell at the park was enough. I wanted to meet my father alone at the spaceport. It wouldn't be friendly, and he would probably yell at me. I didn't need them seeing it. If my brothers were there, a punch to the face was coming. I'd let them do as they wished. Family justice seemed right.

I waited with only my backpack as the shuttle from Mars docked. After selling my clothes and luggage, I truly only had the shirt on my back left. It didn't feel right to take any of my Vacationland suits with me. I'd let the recycler have them.

My father walked down the spaceway with a stern look on his face. He was alone. My brothers weren't with him. Neither, of course, was my mother. He stopped in front of me. He didn't say anything, and I assumed the worst.

So I spoke. "Daddy, I ruined the family," I said, sobbing already. "I broke the Valentine code."

He placed his arm around my shoulder. Slowly, he raised my chin with his finger so our eyes met. "You never did like those old swan boats we ran."

"No. They were old and not lifelike. I doubled the attendance with the new ones."

"At eight years old, you worked the phone during recess and somehow ordered fifteen new ones. Twelve working and three for backup."

"At a discount," I muttered. "And rush delivery for free."

"That's your problem," he said. "You were too smart too early. The look on your mother's face when they arrived at the apartment was priceless."

"Mom will never talk to me again. Why did you come?"

"My daughter's in trouble. No other reason."

"Thanks," I said, hugging him. "I got the money back for the interns. Most of them hate me still."

"No one hates you, Vicky."

"Molly sent me a note and said she felt terrible for me. I let her down."

He wiped away the tears from my face. "No, you didn't. She called me begging to see you when you return. She's proud of you. I could hear it in her voice."

"Vacationland—"

"Everyone here is in shock over the sacrifice you made. You could've been a bad person and done the easy thing."

"I should've."

"No. You faced dark choices and didn't allow it to overcome you."

"It was wrong to lie. Molly's code could never allow it."

"It's Vicky's code, too. It'll take your mother and brothers time to realize it. Come on, you did well. I'm proud of you."

"I'm not—"

"Don't say it, Vicky." He put his hand on my head. "I'm proud of you, even if you aren't . . . yet."

"Thanks, Dad," I said simply.

We gathered my belongings and headed to the transport departing for Mars. We didn't say anything for a long time. I sat in my window seat and looked over Vacationland one last time as the transport pulled away. I wanted to see it closed, but it wouldn't be, not with profits to be made. The thrill of running it had passed completely from me. I couldn't fathom being in charge of anything ever again.

Seven years from now, on my twenty-first birthday, I could take over Valentine Entertainment. Sneakily—but legally that time—my mother had shifted control of all the family shares to me when I was four. I had the right to Valentine Entertainment.

However, getting "better than an A" or running my family's business didn't matter to me anymore. My mother had shown me the path that led down.

I had come to Venus to prove I could get out of the shadow of Molly of Mars. I ended up being the daughter who betrayed her family. My vile victory was the worst grade I had ever received. I wouldn't get the riches of fame, the admiration of the people, or the satisfaction of accomplishing something great. Those were Molly's treats.

The beauty of Venus had showed me the ugly side of life. Not everything turns out the way you plan it. I learned a tough lesson in how to act in the face of turmoil. In the end, I could look in the mirror and know that the girl looking back at me didn't do wrong. I made my friends proud. My dad proud. Molly of Mars proud. And most of all, myself proud.

I am Vicky of Venus.
Start her sister series,

Molly of Mars and the Alien Syndicate

Or Wyatt's PG-13 companion series,

Lunara: Seth and Chloe
