Stargrave's Guide to Galactic Blunders

Chapter 3: The Goat-Pocalypse

The lead goat let out a sound that was half-bleat, half-burp, and spat a piece of the Captain’s charred leather hat onto the floor.

"Is that... purple fur?" Orion asked, his voice cracking. "Why is it purple, Lyra? Why is it looking at me like I’m made of hay?"

"Orion, look at the floor," Lyra hissed, her hand tightening around the heavy serving tray. "It’s not just your hat. They’re eating the insulation off the floor panels. They’re eating everything that isn't solid steel."

"Hey! Hey! Get away from that!"

A tall, broad-shouldered man with a scar running through his left eyebrow burst into the galley, skidding to a halt. Ronan Astervale, the ship’s weapons specialist, looked like he’d just woken up from a very long, very deep nap—mostly because he was still in his undershirt. He froze, his eyes widening as he spotted a particularly plump goat gnawing on the barrel of a sleek, black rifle.

"My Mark-IV Pulse-Rifle!" Ronan wailed, lunging forward. "That’s a custom-weighted stock! It’s mahogany-inlaid! You four-eyed vacuum-breather, spit it out!"

The goat didn't spit it out. Instead, it gave a defiant tug, making a sound like a rubber band snapping.

"Ronan, don't just stand there!" Orion shouted, ducking as another goat leaped over the table. "Do something! Use your tactical training!"

"Tactical training for what? Urban warfare? Orbital strikes?" Ronan shouted back, wrestling with the goat for control of his gun. "They didn't teach us 'How to De-Goat a Spaceship' at the Academy, Orion! This thing just ate my scope! It’s eating the glass!"

"They’re Star-Goats from the Andromeda Nebula," Lyra said, her voice regaining its icy edge despite the chaos. "They aren't aggressive, they’re just ravenous. They’re attracted to high-energy signatures and organic materials. Captain, if you don't do something, they’re going to eat the life support seals."

"Right. Right. I’m the Captain. I have a plan," Orion said, puffing out his chest. He looked around the room frantically. "Everyone! Activate your magnetic boots! We’ll herd them toward the airlock like... like space-cowboys!"

"Space-cowboys?" Lyra repeated, her eyebrows shooting up. "That is your plan? To 'herd' interdimensional livestock with magnets?"

"It’s a classic maneuver!" Orion insisted, stomping his heel against the floor. A metallic clack echoed through the room as his boots engaged. "See? I’m grounded! I’m a pillar of stability! Ronan, get your boots on! Lyra, grab that mop!"

"I am not herding goats with a mop, Stargrave," Lyra snapped, though she reached down to engage her own boots.

"Just do it! Cassian! Vela! Are you seeing this on the monitors?" Orion yelled at the ceiling.

"Oh, we’re seeing it," Cassian’s voice crackled over the intercom, sounding suspiciously like he was stifling a laugh. "Vela is currently taking bets on how long it takes for the lead one to eat Orion’s pants. I’ve got fifty credits on 'under two minutes.'"

"Very helpful, Cass! Really feeling the crew loyalty here!" Orion yelled. He turned back to the goats, waving his arms. "Shoo! Go on! Out the door! Move it, you purple furballs!"

The goats didn't move. In fact, one of them began to float. It didn't fly; it simply drifted upward, its hooves kicking at the air as it aimed for the overhead wiring.

"Wait, why are they floating?" Ronan asked, still clutching his scope-less rifle. "Is that a biological defense mechanism?"

"No," Lyra said, her eyes darting to the wall panel Orion was leaning against. "Orion, move your hand."

"What? I’m just bracing myself!"

"Orion, you’re leaning on the environmental override!"

"I am not—oh." Orion looked down. His elbow was squarely pressed against a large, glowing yellow toggle. "Is that the gravity?"

"Don't touch it!" Lyra screamed.

"I’m not touching it! I’m already touching it! If I move, does it turn off or on?"

"Just stay still!"

Naturally, Orion didn't stay still. A goat decided at that exact moment that Orion’s flight jacket looked like a five-course meal and lunged for his collar. Orion flinched, his elbow slipped, and the toggle flipped with a sickening click.

“Artificial Gravity: Offline,” the ship’s computer announced cheerfully.

Suddenly, the world went sideways. Or rather, it went nowhere. Orion, Lyra, and Ronan were jerked upward as the ship’s internal mass-simulators cut out.

"Orion!" Lyra yelled, her voice echoing in the weightless galley.

"I’m sorry! It was an accident! I was being attacked!" Orion scrambled in the air, his arms windmilling. Because his mag-boots were still engaged, his feet remained snapped to the floor, but his upper body flopped around like a wet noodle. "Who puts the gravity switch right next to the armrest anyway?"

"The people who didn't expect a moron to be leaning on it!" Lyra shouted. She was floating near the ceiling, her boots having failed to lock in time. She grabbed a storage handle, her silver hair fanning out around her head like a halo of fury.

"Look at them go!" Ronan yelled. He was currently spinning in slow circles, still holding his rifle. "They’re like fuzzy purple balloons! Hey! Get off the light fixture!"

The goats were having the time of their lives. Without gravity to hold them back, they were bouncing off the walls, the ceiling, and each other. One of them drifted past Orion, chewing contentedly on a piece of plastic tubing.

"We have to get to the bridge!" Lyra called out, trying to pull herself toward the door. "If they get into the primary conduits, they’ll eat the navigation core!"

"I’m on it! I’m a hero in zero-G!" Orion declared. He tried to take a step, but the magnetic pull of his boots was too strong. He was stuck to the floor like a lawn ornament. "Uh. A little help? I’m pinned!"

"Un-click your boots, you idiot!" Lyra yelled.

"If I do that, I’ll drift away! I need to stay grounded to lead!"

"You aren't leading anything! You’re vibrating!"

One of the larger goats—the one that had eaten Orion’s hat—suddenly kicked off the back wall. It was a direct line, a purple missile aimed straight at Lyra’s head.

"Lyra, watch out!" Orion shouted.

He didn't think. He didn't calculate. He just slapped the release on his boots and launched himself. He didn't have much grace, but he had momentum. He collided with Lyra just as the goat whizzed past, its hooves missing her by an inch.

The two of them tumbled through the air, spinning awkwardly until they slammed into the padded back of the galley bench. Orion managed to wrap an arm around the table leg, anchoring them both.

For a second, they were pressed together, faces inches apart in the silent, floating chaos of the room. Orion could see the flecks of amber in Lyra’s eyes, and she could see the smudge of grease on his nose.

"You... you saved me," Lyra whispered, her breath hitching.

"I told you," Orion said, his voice dropping an octave as he tried to look suave while floating upside down. "Visionary. I saw the trajectory. It was basic physics, really."

Lyra stared at him for a heartbeat, her expression softening for the briefest of moments. Then, she noticed his hand was resting directly on her waist.

"Orion?"

"Yeah?"

"If you don't move your hand in the next three seconds, the goats will be the least of your problems."

"Right. Sorry. Cramp. Space-cramp." Orion quickly relocated his hand to the table leg, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled the emergency lights.

"Can we focus?" Ronan yelled from the other side of the room. He was currently using his rifle like an oar, trying to paddle his way toward the door. "The Alpha Goat is eating the intercom! We’re going to lose comms!"

"Wait!" Lyra said, her professional mask slamming back into place. "The intercom. Ronan, what did you just say?"

"I said it’s eating the speaker! It likes the vibration!"

Lyra’s eyes lit up. "Vibration. That’s it! The goats aren't just eating everything—they’re following the high-frequency hum of the ship’s electronics. They think it’s a mating call or a dinner bell."

"So what? We sing to them?" Orion asked.

"No, we use the intercom," Lyra said, already pulling her tablet from her belt. "If I can patch into the ship’s audio system, I can broadcast a concentrated 440-hertz tone. It’s the same frequency as their native nebula’s pulsar."

"Will it hurt them?" Orion asked, looking at the goat that was currently trying to eat his boot laces.

"No, it’ll just make them very, very curious," Lyra said, her fingers flying across the screen. "Cassian! Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear, though the view from the bridge is much funnier than the audio," Cassian replied.

"Route all internal audio to the cargo bay," Lyra commanded. "I’m going to blast a frequency spike. When they follow it, Vela needs to be ready to seal the bay doors."

"On it," Vela’s voice chirped. "I’ve got the 'Goat Trap' ready. It’s just the cargo bay, but I put a bowl of water out. I’m not a monster."

"Okay," Lyra said, looking at Orion and Ronan. "Hold on to something. This is going to be loud."

She tapped a final command. Suddenly, a low, pulsing thrum began to vibrate through the hull. It wasn't a sound you heard with your ears; it was a sound you felt in your teeth.

The goats stopped. Every single one of them froze, their four eyes blinking in unison. Then, as if pulled by an invisible string, they began to drift toward the vents. One by one, they kicked off the walls, heading toward the back of the ship with singular purpose.

"It’s working!" Orion cheered. "Look at them go! Bye-bye, furballs! Enjoy the cargo bay!"

"Gravity in three, two, one," Cassian announced.

Thump.

The gravity slammed back on. Orion and Lyra fell the six inches to the bench, while Ronan landed flat on his face in the middle of the floor.

"I’m okay!" Ronan muffled into the carpet. "The gun is safe!"

A few seconds later, the intercom hissed. "Cargo bay sealed," Vela reported. "We have twelve very confused, very purple guests. What are we going to do with them?"

"We’ll drop them off at the nearest nature preserve," Lyra said, smoothing her uniform and standing up. She looked at Orion, who was still sitting on the bench, looking a bit dazed. "That was... surprisingly competent of you, Captain."

"I have my moments," Orion said, trying to regain his dignity. He stood up and adjusted his jacket, only to realize the sleeve was missing. "Though I think I’m going to need a new tailor."

"And a new hat," Ronan added, picking up his mangled scope.

The crew gathered in the galley, the adrenaline finally beginning to fade. For the first time since the crash, there was a sense of actual victory.

"We did it," Orion said, grinning at his team. "The Star-Skipper survives again. We should celebrate! Vela, see if there’s any of that 'character' coffee left. I think we earned—"

A sharp, piercing whistle cut him off. It wasn't a goat, and it wasn't a malfunctioning toaster. It was the long-range distress frequency.

The main holographic display in the center of the room flickered to life. A woman appeared, her face pale and her hair disheveled. She was wearing the ornate robes of the High Council.

"This is Ambassador Calista Solenne," the woman gasped, the image flickering with static. "If anyone can hear this... we’ve been intercepted. The diplomatic transport Aurelia is under fire near the Veridian Belt. We are losing life support. Please... help us."

The transmission cut to black.

The silence in the galley was heavy. Orion looked at Lyra, then at Cassian, who had just walked in from the bridge.

"The Veridian Belt," Lyra whispered. "That’s right in the middle of the scavenger territories."

Orion looked at his broken ship, his missing sleeve, and his battered crew. Then, he looked at the empty screen.

"Cassian?" Orion said, his voice steady for once.

"Yeah, Cap?"

"How fast can we get this brick moving?"

Cassian smirked, cracking his knuckles. "With the toaster still in the sensor array? Faster than anything they’ve got. But it’s going to be a bumpy ride."

"Good," Orion said, his eyes narrowing. "I’m tired of goats. I think it’s time we reminded this sector why they shouldn't mess with the Star-Skipper."