Spaceship Mechanic

Rix Banner thought his fighting days ended with World War II. Back home in Cranberry Cove, he just wants to fix cars, drink coffee, and put the past behind him. But when a broken-down starship crash-lands in a Wisconsin cornfield, Rix discovers the universe isn’t done with him yet. The Galactic Empire doesn’t care about Earth’s isolation. They want their ship back—and the fugitive who stole it. Rix isn’t a soldier anymore, but he’s the only one standing between his town and an alien war.

Rix Banner just wants three things out of life: a working coffeemaker, a ship that doesn’t try to kill him, and maybe—just maybe—a full night of sleep without someone pounding on his hatch asking for “one tiny repair.” Naturally, he gets none of them. Between duct-taping patched coolant lines, arguing with an ancient navigation computer, and wrangling Patience Station’s maintenance headaches, Rix can barely keep ahead of the chaos. His shop is overflowing with broken photonic barrier generators, impounded cruisers, and a growing list of “favors” he apparently owes half the station.

If you like your space adventures with a side of sarcasm and a cargo hold full of questionable life choices, Ray Guns and Late Fees delivers. Ride shotgun with a pair of blue-collar spacers as they sail through the stars, patching together jobs with duct tape and stubborn optimism. Out here, pirates aren’t legends, they’re coworkers you haven’t shot at yet. Every deal comes with fine print written in plasma fire, every port hides someone looking to cheat you, and every “simple haul” has a nasty habit of turning into a running gunfight before the coffee gets cold.

There are some things you just don’t expect to find in deep space. A 1947 Wisconsin license plate is one of them. Rix Banner has finally made it back to Patience Station, where life is settling into something almost respectable. His mechanic shop is busy, Calypso needs repairs, his friends are launching businesses, and for once there might even be enough credits coming in to pay the bills. Then a battered piece of chrome-plated junk turns up in a crate from halfway across the galaxy. It’s from Wisconsin. Rix’s Wisconsin.