Stargrave's Guide to Galactic Blunders

Chapter 5: The Secret in the Pipes

"My ship? My beautiful, falling-apart ship is a map?"

Orion stared at the screen Lyra was holding, his jaw practically hitting the floor of the bridge. The glowing blue schematic of the Star-Skipper was overlaid with a complex lattice of golden lines—data points that didn't correspond to any standard flight system.

"Not just a map, Orion. It’s embedded into the structural resonance of the hull," Lyra said, her voice Tight with a mixture of professional awe and mounting dread. "Darius didn't just steal a file. He stole the key to reading the vibration patterns we've been putting out every time we jump."

"So, the rattling? That wasn't just a loose bolt in the galley?" Orion asked, his eyes wide.

"It was a frequency, you idiot," a cool, feminine voice drifted from the ceiling speakers. "And honestly, it was an incredibly annoying one. I’ve been trying to filter it out for three years."

Orion jumped, looking up at the nearest intercom. "Selene! You’re back online? And since when do you have an opinion on my ship’s acoustics?"

"I’ve always been here, Orion," the ship’s AI, Selene Cosmaris, replied with a digital sigh. "I just prefer to stay quiet when you’re arguing with the toaster. It’s bad for my processors. Welcome back, Lyra. I see you’ve survived the goats."

"Barely, Selene," Lyra muttered, rubbing her temples. "Can you pinpoint the origin of the encoding? If we can find the physical source, we might find the rest of the data Darius missed."

"The source is located in the primary maintenance junction, sub-level four," Selene said. "Warning: that area is currently flooded with a mixture of hydraulic fluid, ancient coffee spills, and what I suspect is a small colony of bioluminescent mold. Also, the thermal regulators are failing."

"Great. Perfect. I love sub-level four," Orion said, already grabbing a heavy-duty wrench and a flashlight. "Come on, Lyra. Duty calls. And by duty, I mean crawling through the ship's digestive tract."

"I am a high-level corporate liaison, Orion," Lyra said, looking down at her pristine charcoal uniform. "I don't 'crawl.'"

"You do now. Unless you want Darius to get to the Vault first?"

Lyra stared at him for a long beat, her nostrils flaring. "If I get a single grease stain on this jacket, I am billing your estate."

The entrance to the maintenance tubes was located behind a panel in the floor of the engine room that required both Orion and Lyra to heave with everything they had. When it finally popped open, a puff of foul-smelling, neon-green vapor drifted out.

"Oh, stars," Lyra gagged, waving the air away. "What is that smell?"

"That’s the smell of adventure! And maybe a leaked coolant seal," Orion said, clicking his flashlight on. "I’ll go first. It’s a bit tight, so try not to get stuck."

"I am not the one who's going to get stuck, Orion. You're the one who insisted on having three helpings of synthetic lasagna last night."

"It was a celebration! We didn't die!"

Orion swung his legs into the hole and slid down into the dark. A second later, there was a wet squelch.

"I’m okay!" he shouted up, his voice echoing. "The floor is just... surprisingly soft."

"Is it supposed to be soft?" Lyra asked, cautiously lowering herself into the hatch.

"Probably not. Don't think about it. Just keep moving."

They began to crawl through a pipe that was barely wide enough for their shoulders. The walls were slick with a translucent slime that hummed with a faint, rhythmic vibration. Orion was in the lead, his flashlight beam dancing across tangles of wires that looked more like bird nests than electrical engineering.

"Orion, I’m serious," Lyra’s voice came from right behind his boots. "How is this ship still flying? These conduits are held together by... is that duct tape?"

"Hey, that’s 'High-Tensile Adhesive Strip,' thank you very much," Orion grunted, pulling himself forward. "And it’s worked for twenty years. My dad always said, if it’s stupid and it works, it’s not stupid."

"Your father was a brave man, or a very lucky one," Lyra said. Her voice softened slightly. "He was the one who built the Star-Skipper, wasn't he?"

"Modified it," Orion corrected. He stopped for a moment, his breath hitching in the cramped space. "He was obsessed with the 'First Stars.' Everyone thought he was a crank. A dreamer who spent too much time in the nebula."

"And now we find out he hid a map in the very bones of the ship," Lyra whispered. "He wasn't crazy, Orion. He was careful."

"Yeah, well, I wish he’d been a little more careful with the plumbing," Orion muttered, trying to ignore the way the walls seemed to be closing in on him. "Is it getting smaller in here? I feel like the ceiling is lower."

"It’s your claustrophobia talking. Just keep breathing."

"I am breathing! I’m breathing a lot! That’s the problem! There’s not enough air for this much breathing!"

"Selene, increase oxygen flow to the maintenance tubes," Lyra commanded.

"I would, Lyra, but I’m currently busy preventing Engine Three from deciding it’s a firework," the AI replied. "Also, you’re about to reach the junction. Watch out for the—"

HISSSSSS.

A pipe directly above Orion’s head suddenly cracked, spraying a jet of pale blue mist into the crawlspace. The temperature in the tube plummeted instantly.

"Coolant leak!" Orion yelled, flinching back.

"Orion, get back! That’s liquid nitrogen-grade coolant!" Lyra shouted, trying to scramble backward, but the tube was too narrow.

"I can't go back! You're in the way!" Orion scrambled toward her, pressing himself against the side of the tube as the freezing mist filled the air. "The manual valve is behind that spray! If I don't turn it off, we’re going to be popsicles in sixty seconds!"

"You can't reach it without getting sprayed!"

"I have a plan! I’m a visionary, remember?" Orion grabbed his heavy flight jacket and wrapped it around his arm like a shield. "Lyra, get close. Behind me. Now!"

"What are you doing?"

"Just do it!"

Lyra lunged forward, pressing herself against Orion’s back as he shielded them both from the worst of the freezing spray. The cold was biting, even through the layers of his jacket. Orion reached into the cloud of mist, his hand fumbling for the iron wheel of the valve.

"Find it... find it..." Orion hissed through gritted teeth. His fingers were already starting to go numb.

"Orion, your arm! It’s frosting over!" Lyra cried, her arms wrapping instinctively around his waist to pull him away from the spray.

"I’ve... almost... got... it!"

With a roar of effort, Orion slammed his weight against the valve. It groaned, protested with a metallic screech, and finally turned. The hissing stopped. The blue mist began to dissipate, leaving the two of them shivering in the dark, cramped silence.

"Did... did we die?" Orion asked, his teeth chattering violently.

"No," Lyra whispered. She didn't let go of him. She was shaking just as hard, her face pressed into the crook of his shoulder. "But I can't feel my toes."

"That’s okay. I can't feel my entire left side." Orion leaned back against the wall of the tube, pulling Lyra into the heat of his chest. "We need to stay warm. Body heat. Standard survival protocol."

"Is that your 'visionary' side talking or just the part of you that’s a professional opportunist?" Lyra asked, though she tucked her head under his chin anyway.

"A little of both. You’re surprisingly warm for someone so icy, Lyra."

"Shut up, Stargrave."

They sat there for a few minutes, the only sound the distant hum of the engines and their synchronized breathing. The frost on Orion’s sleeve began to melt, dripping onto the floor.

"You really care about this ship, don't you?" Lyra asked softly. "It’s not just a paycheck for you."

"It’s the only thing I have left of him," Orion said, his voice unusually quiet. "Everything else—the house on Mars, the medals, the reputation—it all went when he disappeared. But the Skipper... she stayed. She’s stubborn. Just like him."

"He’d be proud of you, you know," Lyra said. "Even with the goats."

"Especially with the goats. He loved chaos." Orion shifted, his hand brushing against a loose panel in the wall. "Wait. What’s this?"

He pulled his flashlight up. Behind the valve he’d just turned was a small, hidden compartment, tucked away from the main sensors. Inside was a small, rectangular object wrapped in oilcloth.

"Is that it?" Lyra asked, pulling back to look.

Orion reached in and pulled the object out. He unwrapped it with trembling fingers, revealing an old, battered datapad. It was a model that hadn't been produced in thirty years, with a physical "on" switch and a heavy brass casing.

"This is my dad’s," Orion whispered. He flipped the switch.

The screen flickered to life, casting a dim green glow over their faces. A series of files appeared, all of them encrypted with a single header: PROJECT AETHER-CORE.

"Aether-Core?" Lyra leaned in. "That’s a myth. A power source that could sustain a colony for a thousand years without a refuel."

"My dad didn't believe in myths," Orion said. He tapped the first file.

A holographic projector on the side of the pad hummed to life. A map began to form in the air between them, swirling into a complex 3D star chart. It wasn't the Andromeda Nebula or the Veridian Belt. It was a sector of space that made Lyra’s blood run cold.

"Orion," she whispered, her face pale. "Look at the sector coordinates."

Orion squinted at the glowing numbers. "Sector 7-G? That’s... wait. That’s the Black-Site Zone."

"The Aegis Reach," Lyra corrected, her voice trembling. "It’s the most heavily fortified military restricted zone in the Galactic Hegemony. Nobody goes in there without a fleet-level clearance."

"Well," Orion said, a slow, terrified grin spreading across his face as the map highlighted a single, tiny moon deep within the restricted space. "I guess it’s a good thing we’re not 'anybody.'"

"Orion, we can't just fly into a military zone! They’ll vaporize us before we even hit the atmosphere!"

"They have to catch us first, Lyra. And they’ve never chased a ship powered by a toaster and fueled by pure, unadulterated vision."

"I’m going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Probably. But hey, think of the filing system you can write about it afterward."

The datapad beeped, a final line of text scrolling across the screen: To Orion. Find the heart of the star. Don't look back.*

Orion looked at Lyra, his eyes bright with a new, dangerous purpose. "Selene! Get the engines warmed up! We’re going to the Reach!"

"Orders received, Captain," the AI replied, her voice sounding almost excited. "I’ll start calculating the 'Suicide Slalom' through the orbital mines. It’s going to be a bumpy ride."

"Bumpy?" Orion laughed as they began the long crawl back out of the pipes. "Lyra, 'bumpy' is our middle name."

"I thought your middle name was 'Danger,'" Lyra muttered, though she was already checking the charge on her pistol.

"That too! It’s a very long name!"