Dip Reinegger and The Golden Helm of Orion
Feb 18, 2026
Dip Reinegger and The Golden Helm of Orion
The #starkween screamed through the atmosphere of Orion-7, her engines whistling a tune that sounded suspiciously like a victory lap. Roban, my mandroid twin, was checking the charge on his sub-cutaneous arm-cannons.
"You know, Roban," I said, checking my reflection in the cockpit glass to ensure my mullet was at peak aerodynamic efficiency. "They say the Helm of Orion gives the wearer the power to command the stars themselves. But honestly, I just think it’ll look pretty rad with my summer bronze."
"Calculations suggest the golden crown is worth four billion space-credits, Dip," Roban droned in my exact voice. "Also, the mountain is guarded by 'The Unspeakable.' My sensors indicate it is very unspeakable."
"Everything is unspeakable until I start shooting, And then they ain’t unspeakable no more.”
“I don’t think that makes sense, Sir.”
“Then you should stop speaking about it. Roban. Land this bird."
The Ascent
We touched down at the base of the Pillar of Heaven, a mountain so tall it pierced the clouds like a colossal middle finger to gravity. The climb was brutal. I had to stop twice, once to flex at a passing goat and once to drain the little dipper.
At the summit, the air was thin, but the view was spectacular. And there it sat: a pedestal made of stone, glowing with a faint, eerie light. Resting on top was the Helm of Orion, a golden, bejeweled crown that sparkled with the intensity of a Plaarby’s drive-thru menu on a Friday night, and promising just as much tangy rapture.
The Ancient Warning
"Look at these carvings, Dip," Roban said, scanning the base of the pedestal. "Ancient glyphs. They seem to be a warning. 'He who dons the crown shall carry the weight of the void, or find his brains turned to space-sludge.'"
"Science talk, Roban! It’s just fancy marketing to keep the tourists away," I scoffed. I reached out, my calloused fingers brushing the gold. "Besides, I can handle the void."
I grabbed the Helm. The second it left the pedestal, the mountain began to shake. The "Unspeakable" wasn't a monster. It was the mountain itself. The peak began to fold inward like a giant stone mouth, and a booming voice echoed through the valley: "WHO SEEKS THE BURDEN OF THE SKY?"
The Quick Escape
"I do, mountain man! And I'm taking the jewels with me!" I yelled, jamming the crown onto my head.
The power hit me like a shot of high-octane florg. My vision turned purple, and for a second, I could see every bathroom in the galaxy simultaneously. It was a lot to take in.
"Sir! The ground is disintegrating!" Roban shouted, his mandroid servos whirring as he grabbed my belt.
"Don't worry, Roban! I've got the power of the stars!" I tried to command the stars but they didn’t do Jack.
Luckily, Roban had the foresight to summon the ship remotely.
"Close enough!" I hollered. We took a literal leap of faith off the crumbling peak, Roban’s jump-jets firing at maximum until we crumbled hard onto #starkween’s landing ramp just as the mountain collapsed into a pile of pebbles.
Back on the #starkween
I slammed the hatch shut, panting, and walked over to the mirror. The Helm was glowing. I looked like a freaking god. A god with a really, really sweet haircut.
"Well, Roban," I said, tossing the crown onto the co-pilot's seat. "The stars are safe. For now."
"You realize we didn't actually save anything, or command the stars, Dip. We just stole an ancient relic and fell off a mountain."
"Details, Roban. Details. Now pass me a Florg. Saving the universe is thirsty work."
space adventurers with ample package, oil on space canvas
