The Ex-Space Tyrant’s Guide to Earthly Problems

Chapter 11: Breaker Fixes and Tarnished Troubles

Hi, it’s me again, Sierra Fox. Everyone’s favorite ex-space tyrant who is just as normal as any other 21-year-old Earthling. Trust me, two of the city’s police officers can vouch for that—they’ve checked my documents. Twice.

“Grams, beam me and the car up to the factory area.” Because, naturally, when the house breaker trips every time Dad tries to charge his car, the obvious solution is to take the car to a factory... aboard a moon-sized spaceship.

I mean, I can’t have the car setting the house on fire, right?

So, as a responsible ex-space tyrant who, let’s be real, is probably better at causing fires than putting them out, I’ve decided to replace Dad’s defective car with something a bit more... Earthling-proof.

In the blink of an eye, I’m aboard my moon-sized spaceship—which, to be fair, is only moon-sized on the outside. Thanks to the Artificial Singularity Reactor, it’s got the mass of ten Earths crammed into this subtle little "weather balloon" that I’ve parked just outside the solar system. Sure, it distorts the orbits of Uranus and Neptune ever so slightly, but who’s really paying attention to that? Cloaking tech: still the best investment.

The factory area inside the ship is as over-the-top as you'd expect. The ceiling arches above me like some kind of futuristic space cathedral, and the walls are pulsing with these soft, glowing plasma conduits, humming gently like the ship is alive—because, well, it basically is. If I wanted, I could build a battleship here within a few days. But today? Just building a spaceship that looks like Dad’s car. No big deal.

“Grams, do a high-detail scan of Dad’s car,” I ordered, making my way over to the planning station, a large holographic console where I could customize everything to the smallest detail.

“Really? Don’t you have better things to do?” Grams replied, sounding utterly unimpressed. “Why bother with this... toaster on wheels?”

“After you save its appearance and specs, you can recycle it into ingots,” I replied, waving my hand as the holographic blueprint of Dad’s car appeared. “Besides, if this works well, I could place my army on Earth without anyone even knowing.”

“Ah, so you are planning to conquer Earth, after all,” Grams said lazily, clearly unimpressed with my supposedly grand plan. “We could just deploy mechanized battalions one and two, and I could take control of Earth before your neighborhood even sees the sunrise.”

I laughed. “Nah, not yet. I just want to secure my house and my family, that’s all. I’m done with being the boss of empires. Now it’s all about the quiet life—just me, relaxing, and spending time with my family.”

“Right. ‘Relaxing,’” Grams echoed sarcastically. “Well, your toaster is scrapped now.”

If Dad came up here with me he might have had a heart attack, his precious sport cart just a moment ago was methodically smelted down into a small pile of ingots.

I glanced at the results window:

Aluminum: 967 kg

Iron: 515 kg

Lithium: 43 kg

Nickel: 288 kg

Cobalt: 60 kg

Manganese: 29 kg

Carbon: 168 kg

Copper: 45 kg

Silicon: 25 kg

Sulfur: 1 kg

Other Gasses and elements: 40kg

Not much, but not too bad, Lithium and Cobalt are quite slow to get from asteroid mining.

Anyway, I swiped back to the planning window. First up: the power source. Here are the options I can create from the blueprints I have on hand:

Zero-point energy array: It’s cute. Basically, it’s a low-power option that runs forever—good for devices that don’t need much juice. It’s like the space version of solar panels, but without the whole 'needing the sun' thing. But if I use this in Dad’s car, its top speed would be about the same as 'grandma pushing a shopping cart.'

Fusion reactor: The industrial standard. Technically, it’s a miniature sun, minus the whole 'turning you tan or orange' part. This thing smashes light elements—anything lighter than iron—to make power. As long as there’s air, the car will run. It’s practically safe—not much harmful radiation, and it pretty much fizzles out if it fails.

Antimatter reactor: High-efficiency, high-power, perfect for spaceships. If I slapped one of these bad boys in the car, Dad could drive to the next star system and back. Problem is, the fuel costs would make Earth’s gas prices look like pocket change. And just one tiny catch—if the antimatter fuel leaks, it’ll vaporize the entire neighborhood... and maybe a few beyond.

Artificial singularity reactor: It’s big. It’s heavy—about 5 Earth masses. It can eat anything as fuel. The downside? You’d need a space station or a super-capital ship to hold one—like the moon-sized spaceship I parked just outside the solar system. Sadly, it’s too large to fit in a car and way too extinction-inducing to even put anywhere near Earth.

I was torn between the Fusion reactor and the Antimatter reactor, but in the end, I chose Fusion. Why? Because I’m too lazy to refuel them. Simple as that.

Next up, I had to decide on its function. Sure, I could replicate the safer version of the original—boring, safe, basic—but since I was building this thing from scratch, why stop at “normal” when I could have some fun?

That’s when I remembered something from one of Dad’s favorite old Earth movies: Transformers. Giant heroic robots? Cool. But instead of building something noble and self-sacrificing, I had an entire archive of genocidal robotic death squad AIs lying around. And hey, those guys were top-notch at… uh, being highly efficient. Plus, they could transform too—maybe I should call them Full Bridge Rectifiers or something.

Of course, I’m not completely reckless. So, I did the responsible thing and quickly programmed a modified version of Isaac Asimov's Three Laws of Robotics into the AI. You know, just to keep things civil.

Here’s the updated Sierra’s Five Laws:

A robot must obey Sierra Fox above all else.

A robot must not injure my family or, through inaction, allow my family to come to harm.

A robot must pretend to be a normal Earthling Dad’s car.

A robot must obey the orders given to it by my family.

A robot must protect its own existence.

Yeah, the Three Laws became Sierra’s Five Laws. I even sorted them by priority, so no need for all that long-winded "As long as it doesn’t conflict with the First Law" stuff. Streamlined. Efficient. Perfect.

Grams chimed in with her usual skepticism. “You do remember that the original death squad AI was designed for efficiency in eradicating species, not chauffeuring your dad to the grocery store, right?”

I grinned. “Yeah, but I gave it the Laws. It should be fine.”

“Your concept of ‘fine’ is terrifying,” Grams remarked dryly.

Anyways, since there’s plenty of space to jam things inside, I also installed a shield emitter, cloaking device, and missile launcher, you know, just in case. No one can ever accuse me of not being prepared.

Then I pressed “Start Building.”

The new car was assembled quickly, and in a matter of minutes, Dad’s shiny red car reappeared—but now it was built to my standards. The original aluminum chassis had been replaced by Tritanium, making it far stronger. With the shield generator tucked away in a hidden compartment, this thing could take a few direct hits from a Tsar bomb and probably just shrug it off.

I took it for a test drive through the corridors of my spaceship, watching as it zipped effortlessly down the plasma-lit halls. In its "normal Earthly vehicle" mode, it was fine. But in unpretend mode? This thing could go from zero to Earth escape velocity in seconds.

I chuckled as I floored it, watching the speedometer shoot up. Then I let it drive by itself around my spaceship a few times.

“Well, everything seems to be in order. Grams, beam us back to the garage.”

And just like that, I was back in the quiet garage. I glanced at the clock—it was still only 4 AM. Plenty of time. Elder-Ring had been waiting for me long enough.

I patted Dad’s car affectionately before I strolled back into the house, quiet as a shadow, and headed to my interdimensional closet room. The cozy glow of my custom gaming rig greeted me, the screens already humming in anticipation.

I slipped on my gaming headset, settled into my ergonomic gaming chair, and stretched my arms. Time to loosen up before battle. Elder-Ring was loading, and I was ready. I’d heard all about this game—epic bosses, sprawling open worlds, difficult mechanics... sounded like my kind of thing. How hard could it be?

Well, a few minutes later, I’d finished character creation and the opening scene, and then... I fell off a cliff.

You Died.

In my defense, the writing on the ground said "jump." And there was a silhouette of a guy leading me toward it. Clearly, this game’s community is full of trolls.

Grumbling about untrustworthy messages, I moved on. Then I faced my first real boss.

You Died.

Oi! Whose bright idea was it to make players fight a boss before even learning the controls? That didn’t count.

Next, I finally made it to the tutorial boss.

You Died.

“...”

Grams started laughing. “There are several people who finished the game without taking damage on WhoTube. LoL.”

“Hey, I’m not familiar with the controls yet!” I hissed back, irritated.

On my second attempt, I passed the fight with flying colors.

“See? I’m good at it now,” I said smugly, as I admired how far gaming graphics had come in the last ten years. That was the only compliment I had for the game before I faced my nemesis: the horse-riding, fully armored knight.

You Died.

Grams laughed again. “That’s not fair! He has full equipment, and I only have a club and loincloth!” I protested.

“I could pull up a few videos of people beating him with just a club and loincloth on WhoTube. LoL,” Grams replied, clearly enjoying herself.

I gritted my teeth as I charged in for another round against the knight.

You Died.

"Maybe you should dodge next time?" Grams added, as though I wasn’t already trying.

I respawned for the twentieth time, took a deep breath, and charged again.

“DODGE! DODGE!" Grams yelled, getting way too into it now. "Honestly, you have nanomachine-enhanced reflexes at your disposal. Just activate them and—"

"No!" I snapped back, stubborn as ever. "I’m not cheating. It's my pride to beat this game as a normal human!"

Grams huffed. "Pride? You've been flattened by a horse twenty times."

You Died.

I growled and hit respawn again.

"Just imagine how much faster you could kill him with a slight enhancement—nothing major! Just a nanosecond speed boost for dodging, a touch of superhuman agility…"

"No, Grams. That would ruin the point of the game!" I grumbled. "I'm going to beat this guy fair and square, like every other Earthling with their primitive reflexes!"

"Primitive reflexes? That’s rich, considering you’re getting pancaked again."

You Died.

I stared at the screen in defeat, muttering under my breath about cheap tactics and overpowered NPCs.

"Let me play," Grams chirped. "I could take over for you. This knight would be toast in two seconds."

I threw up my hands. "No! I’m not letting you beat this game for me! You see! I almost got there! It’s just about learning their attack pattern!"

Right on cue, the knight suddenly changed his move and mowed me down.

You Died.

By my hundredth respawn, Lily finally woke up and stopped to peer at my screen. She even chuckled when my character got stuck behind a tree and was killed by the knight in spectacular fashion.

“You know... you can just walk around him, right?” Lily smirked, shaking her head as she left.

I stared at the screen. Then, with the kind of grace only a former galactic tyrant can muster, I quietly set down my controller.

“Well... that was fun,” I said, in a tone that absolutely did not sound bitter.

Grams snorted. “Fun? You died more times than a clone trooper with a faulty respawn.”

Ignoring her, I exited Elder-Ring and fired up Stardrop Valley. I watched as my pixelated crops swayed gently in the breeze. Turnips. Peaceful, predictable turnips.

“Yep,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “This is more my speed.”

Just as I was about to settle into the tranquility of farming, a soft ping echoed from my fake oPad. I glanced down and saw a message notification flash across the screen.

It was a message from Rob.