Stargrave's Guide to Galactic Blunders

Chapter 9: Father of the Year

"Dad," Orion said, his voice cracking slightly as he stared at the man he hadn’t seen in a decade. "Are you... are you seriously making toast right now?"

Magnus Stargrave didn’t look up from the ancient, blackened heating element he was hovering a slice of synthetic sourdough over. "It’s a high-stress environment, Orion. My blood sugar is crashing, and this bunker hasn’t had a delivery of fresh supplies since the Hegemony forgot I existed. You want a slice? It’s a bit charred, but it’s got crunch."

"We just ran through a field of hallucinogenic moss and dodged orbital lasers to find you!" Orion shouted, gesturing wildly at the heavy steel door that was still vibrating from the impact of plasma bolts outside. "I thought you were a political prisoner in a high-tech torture chamber, not a guy hosting a brunch for one!"

"It’s not brunch, it’s survival," Magnus grunted, finally flipping the toast with a pair of rusted needle-nose pliers. He looked over his shoulder, his eyes scanning Lyra and the rest of the crew. "And who are these people? You brought a corporate liaison, a botanist who looks like he’s about to faint, and... where’s your pilot? You can’t fly that bucket of bolts by yourself, Orion. You always were terrible at parking."

"Cassian is back at the ship, hopefully keeping the engines from melting," Lyra interrupted, her hand resting on her holster. "And I’m not just a liaison. I’m the person who’s currently wondering why we’re risking our lives for a man who’s more worried about bread than the Hegemony fleet currently in orbit."

Magnus finally stood up, his joints popping like dry kindling. He dusted some soot off his tattered flight suit. "You’re the Celestine girl, right? I can see the family nose. Very sharp. Very 'I-own-the-sector.' Look, the fleet isn't here for me. They’re here for the Core. And if you’ve got the key in your pocket like I think you do, Orion, then we’re all in a lot more trouble than a few burnt crumbs."

"The Aether-Core," Orion said, reaching into his jacket and feeling the cold, hard edges of the crystal. "Amara said it’s a power source. Something that could run the whole galaxy for a thousand years."

"Amara Lunaris is a snake in expensive pearls," Magnus spat, finally dropping the toast onto a metal tray. "The Core isn't a battery, kid. It’s a reset button. A total system reformat for the physical laws of subspace."

"A reset button?" Theron squeaked from the corner, clutching his misting bottle. "You mean... like, it turns everything off?"

"Worse," Magnus said, his face darkening. "It collapses the existing gates and rewrites the resonance of every ship’s drive. If the Hegemony gets their hands on it, they won't just rule the galaxy. They’ll own the very way we move through it. They can turn off the stars for anyone who doesn't pay their taxes. It’s the ultimate leash."

"So you didn't hide it to protect the power," Lyra whispered, her face going pale. "You hid it to prevent a monopoly on existence."

"Finally, someone with a brain," Magnus said, pointing a finger at her. "I spent three years in this hole making sure the signature stayed flat. But then Orion has to go and plug the key into the first flashy socket he finds, lighting us up like a neon sign in a dark alley."

"I was trying to find you!" Orion yelled. "I thought you were dying! I thought I was being a hero!"

"Being a hero is just a fancy way of saying you didn't look at the warning labels," Magnus countered.

Suddenly, the bunker’s internal comms system screeched to life. It wasn’t the usual static or the "depressed robot" Magnus had mentioned. It was a voice—cold, precise, and hauntingly familiar.

"Target identified. Perimeter breach in progress. All units, move to intercept. Lethal force authorized for the secondary targets. Secure the Core at all costs."

Orion froze. "Cassian? Cass, is that you? Why do you sound like you’ve swallowed a dictionary?"

"That’s not Cassian," Lyra said, her eyes fixed on the security monitor. "Look at the feed."

On the flickering screen, a squad of Hegemony "Peacekeepers" was descending into the rocky valley via gravity-chutes. Leading them was a man in a sleek, silver combat rig. His face was visible through his visor—it was Cassian, but his eyes were glowing with a dull, rhythmic red light.

"Oh, no," Vela whispered, her voice trembling. "They got him. When we were in the mist, they must have snagged him while he was trying to hold the ship."

"He’s under mind-control," Magnus said, already moving toward a stack of crates in the back of the room. "The Hegemony uses a neural-link override. They’ve turned your pilot into their best bloodhound. He knows how you think, Orion. He knows your ship. He’s going to tear this place apart to get to us."

"Cassian wouldn't do this," Orion insisted, though he watched his friend on the screen level a heavy disruptor rifle at the bunker's outer sensors. "He’s our friend! He hates the Hegemony more than I do!"

"He isn't in there right now, Orion!" Lyra shouted, grabbing his arm. "He’s just a meat-puppet with a trigger finger. We have to move!"

"Move where?" Orion asked, his voice full of panic. "We’re trapped in a basement!"

"Not just any basement," Magnus said, kicking open a crate. Inside was a tangled mess of wires, vacuum tubes, and what looked like a vintage microwave. "It’s a prototype localized EMP. I was building it to fry the Gatekeeper AI, but I think it might just work on those neural-links."

"A microwave?" Orion asked, staring at the junk. "That’s your master plan?"

"It’s a 'Phase-Shift Disruptor,' you ungrateful brat!" Magnus snapped. "But it needs a massive power jolt to trigger. More than this bunker has left."

"The Star-Skipper," Vela said, her eyes lighting up. "If we can get the ship close enough, I can patch the engine's output directly into the bunker's grid. We can blast the whole valley with an EMP."

"The ship is currently being surrounded by soldiers led by our brainwashed pilot!" Lyra pointed out. "How are we supposed to 'get close'?"

"I’ll go," Orion said, his jaw tightening. "I can talk to him. I can distract him."

"Orion, he’ll shoot you before you get within ten feet," Lyra said.

"No, he won't. I’m the only one who knows the final sequence for the Core. He needs me alive." Orion looked at his father. "Give me the microwave thing. I’ll get to the ship."

"You’re going to get yourself killed, Orion," Magnus said, though he handed over the device anyway. "Just like your mother. Always running toward the fire."

"It’s called 'vision,' Dad! You should try it sometime!"

Orion didn't wait for a response. He grabbed the device and sprinted toward the emergency exit, Lyra and Vela hot on his heels. As they emerged into the freezing, grey air of the wasteland, the sound of boots on gravel echoed through the canyons.

"There!" Lyra shouted, pointing toward the Star-Skipper.

Cassian was standing on the ramp of the ship, his rifle held with a robotic stillness. He looked at Orion, his head tilting slightly to the side like a curious bird.

"Orion Stargrave," Cassian said, his voice devoid of its usual snark. "Surrender the Aether-Core. Resistance is statistically irrelevant."

"Statistically irrelevant?" Orion shouted, stopping twenty feet away. "Cass, man, you’re hurting my feelings! We’re the 'Star-Skipper' crew! We’re the guys who accidentally blew up a fuel pod and ran from space-goats! You can’t talk like a textbook!"

"The past is irrelevant," Cassian droned. "Hand over the crystal."

"I’ve got something better," Orion said, holding up the microwave device. "I’ve got a peace offering! It’s... uh... it’s a very rare antique! From the Old Earth era!"

"Scan indicates high-frequency components," Cassian said, his rifle humming as it charged. "Drop the device or I will initiate a non-lethal suppression."

"Vela, now!" Orion yelled.

Behind a nearby rock, Vela slammed two cables together, bridging the gap between the ship’s auxiliary power port and the bunker's relay line.

"Orion, hit the switch!" she screamed.

Orion slammed his palm onto the top of the device. For a second, nothing happened. Then, a massive, invisible wave of energy rippled outward. The lights on the Star-Skipper flickered and died. The soldiers in the valley collapsed as their HUDs and powered armor fried.

Cassian let out a strangled cry, clutching his head as the red glow in his eyes sputtered and turned to a frantic, blinking violet. He fell to his knees, the rifle clattering to the ground.

"Cass!" Orion ran forward, catching his friend before he hit the ramp.

Cassian’s eyes cleared, the red fading into his natural brown. He looked up at Orion, his face twisted in a grimace of pure agony.

"Orion?" Cassian wheezed. "My head... it feels like a supernova just went off in my sinuses."

"You’re okay, buddy," Orion said, pulling him up. "You just had a bit of a corporate makeover. We fixed it."

"Did I... did I say 'statistically irrelevant'?" Cassian asked, looking horrified. "Please tell me I didn't say that."

"You did," Lyra said, sliding into the pilot's seat as the ship's backup power began to kick in. "And you were very annoying about it."

"We have to go!" Magnus shouted, running toward the ship with Theron in tow. "The EMP only bought us a few minutes! The fleet's main systems are shielded! They’re going to be on us in seconds!"

Everyone scrambled onto the Star-Skipper. Magnus shoved Orion toward the co-pilot's seat and took the captain’s chair for himself.

"Hey! That’s my seat!" Orion protested.

"You can have it back when you learn how to fly without hitting the scenery!" Magnus barked. "Vela, get me everything those engines have! We’re jumping the second we clear the atmosphere!"

"The atmosphere is currently crawling with Hegemony interceptors, Magnus!" Lyra yelled from the tactical station.

"Then we’ll just have to give them a target they can't hit!" Magnus grinned, and for a second, Orion saw where his own reckless streak came from. "Orion, hold onto your hair! This is going to be bumpy!"

The Star-Skipper roared to life, the engines screaming as they fought the gravity of the prison planet. They punched through the amber clouds, the hull groaning as they dodged a volley of rail-gun fire from the orbiting cruisers.

"We’re clear!" Cassian shouted, his hands shaky but steady on the yoke. "Calculating warp jump now! Setting coordinates for... well, anywhere but here!"

"Wait," Orion said, his hand going to his pocket.

The Aether-Core crystal was vibrating. It wasn't just a hum anymore; it was a rhythmic, pulsing throb that Orion could feel in his teeth.

"Dad? Why is the key doing that?" Orion asked, pulling the crystal out.

The crystal wasn't blue anymore. It was a blinding, searing white, and the light was beginning to bleed through Orion’s fingers, illuminating the entire bridge with an ominous, ghost-like glow.

"Magnus! What is happening?" Lyra screamed.

Magnus stared at the crystal, his face turning a sickly shade of grey. "The resonance... it’s not just a key anymore. It’s activating."

"But I didn't do anything!" Orion shouted.

"It doesn't matter!" Magnus yelled over the rising whine of the crystal. "The Hegemony fleet... they must have hit it with a remote activation signal! If that thing goes off while we’re in warp, it’ll tear a hole in reality the size of a nebula!"

"Orion, drop it!" Lyra yelled.

"I can't! It’s stuck to my hand!"

The light became unbearable, a roar of pure energy filling the cabin. The stars outside the viewport began to warp and stretch, not into the long lines of hyperspace, but into jagged, terrifying fractures of purple and gold.

"Punch it, Cassian!" Orion screamed. "Just punch it!"

As the Star-Skipper vanished into the white-hot light, the last thing Orion saw was his father’s terrified expression. Then, the universe went silent.