Hey guys! Thanks for all the reviews, follows, and favorites!

I hope y'all are having a nice summer! This chapter was a lot longer than the last and I'm making the next shorter as a bit of compensation.

Hope you all enjoy!

Life was a bit of a bitch, wasn't it?

It wasn't even six months until her graduation from high school and here Summer Smith was, sitting miles under ice and looking at a trash planet with a blue alien and her little brother who was clearly fighting physical and mental fatigue. She watched, concerned, as Morty sat next to her with his chin propped up as if he didn't trust his head to stay up during their presentation-slash-debriefing.

It wasn't like she wanted this. It wasn't like she expected to be here, buried under a millennia's worth of ice in the furthest corner of the galaxy. How she'd allowed Morty's dreams to run so wild was beyond her, but pretending she was totally guiltless in this situation was laughable. Morty wouldn't even have gotten to the next block over if she hadn't tagged along, and she did so willingly. There were quite a few reasons for it, most of them boiling down to guilt and shame and, when Summer thought long and hard about it, a raw anger. The source of that anger was hard to identify, as if it had been dispersed over multiple people and places and events. But it clawed at her—a constant dull pain that she couldn't ignore no matter how hard she tried. Summer had allowed herself to mull it over for almost two-thirds of a year and she still had nothing to show for it. It still nagged at her while Yhlari had sat them down at the conference table and, keeping one watchful purple eye on Morty, flipped on the switch to the hologram monitor and allowed the various star systems to finish spreading out until the Milky Way Galaxy shone brightly above their heads.

"Okay, what we're looking for is a Wilflaj," Yhlari began. As she twirled a knob, the galaxy spun through several solar systems, flashes of color zooming above them like high-speed marbles.

"Wilflajes are densely populated, high controlled outposts that serve as Federation operation centers," the alien explained as the galaxy map settled on a planet somewhere in some distant star system. The planet in question wasn't very appealing, a large hunk of nasty brown dancing on the outer rims of the galaxy. Squinting, Summer could make out large buildings protruding out of the surface like broken teeth, giving the entire planet an uneven looking texture. Ships swarmed the atmosphere like flies, so the whole thing had the appearance of a piece of crap floating through space.

Morty beat her to the punch, however. "It looks l-like a pile of s-shit," he grumbled sleepily from his position on the table.

"Well, you're not wrong," Yhlari's voice was filled with disgust, "because that's essentially what a Wilflaj is. It's a classification, not a name. The Federation basically takes dead planets—any planet that's been stripped of organic life, forcefully or otherwise—and builds a city on it. Everything you see here is artificial: the buildings, the streets, and hell, even the atmosphere. All the oxygen is either pumped in or manufactured and sold. In the Gromflomite language, 'wil' means world and 'flaj' means waste, so the literal translation of the name is 'garbage planet'. The entire place is practically a hunk of trash floating through space."

Yhlari spun the dial on the controls and the planet shrunk into the size of a pea, becoming a red dot as the rebel highlighted it. "One of the purposes of a Wilflaj is to serve as a galactic fence to separate the inner galaxy, the federally controlled one, from the outer rims." Several other pea-sized planets lit up as well, forming a broken ring like a connect-the-dot puzzle. "You need to enter one of these places to get a vehicle license in order to pass into the outer rims. Without one, you'd be destined to get stuck on the other side. These things are swarming with Federation goons, enough to mobilize an entire army with the snap of a finger."

"So these things," Summer waved her hand vaguely at the tiny red planets on the map, "are like planetary Ellis Islands if they were built like Fort Knox?"

"I literally have no idea what the hell that analogy is supposed to mean, but whatever floats your boat," Yhlari said.

"G-guys," Morty piped up from his place at the table, "what d-does any of this h-have to do with R-Rick's ship?"

"I was getting to that," Yhlari zoomed the planet back into full focus. "As I was saying, if someone's excuses aren't up to par, and a lot of them aren't, the Federation confiscates ships. Each region of the galaxy has it's own Wilflaj it reports to, and fortunately it's public knowledge. I suppose the Federation gets a kick out of listening to complaints about wrongfully detained vehicles. Anyway, depending on the last planet you guys were on when you had the ship, it most likely got confiscated by the Federation and taken to the nearest Wilflaj. Simple as that." Yhlari started typing coordinates as she spoke, pulling up Planet Squanch. "According to your sister, Morty, this was the last place you'd seen the ship, right?"

Morty gave his weary affirmation. A thin red line snaked out from Planet Squanch and connected with another world some distance away.

"There," Yhlari finalized. "Wilflaj-223. If Rick's ship was taken, then that's where they would have brought it." Her hand brushed against the portal gun prototype resting on the table. "Since the place is about twenty-five thousand light years away from here, we can use this to get there so we don't have to hitch a ride and risk capture on the way. And, if all goes well, we steal the ship back and head back to FR-0284 with no casualties."

Summer nodded enthusiastically, but her eagerness soon melted into concern as she saw her brother start to pick himself off the table despite his drooping eyes and scattered movements. "W-When are w-we g-going?" he asked. Even his stutter was worse; it was always worse when he was tired. The thought made Summer's gut clench.

"You're not going!" Summer leapt to her feet, glaring at her brother as exasperation and worry overtook her. "You're exhausted! You need to sleep, Morty."

Morty ignored her, instead turning to Yhlari as if for permission. For a heartbeat, Summer was concerned that the blue alien would want all hands on deck and allow Morty to tag along despite his obvious fatigue, but she appeared to be on her side. "Sorry Morty, but I'm going to have to back Summer up on this one. If the Federation has ways of tracking your brainwaves, then dumping you in the middle of a highly militarized area would be a guaranteed way to get us all captured. Besides, if it comes down to a fight, I don't think you'd be able to dodge blaster fire when you're asleep on your feet. Stay here, rest, and hold down the fort. If all things go according to plan, Summer and I should be back in a few days."

Morty opened his mouth like he was about to argue with her, but closed it after a second thought and nodded in defeat. Summer wasn't sure if it was because he saw the reasoning in her explanation, or if he was just too tired to fight back. He rested his head on his hands and let his eyes fall shut, his breathing becoming heavier. A minute later he was snoring.

Summer moved to shake her brother's shoulder but was stopped by Yhlari. "Let him sleep," she advised, her eyes full of empathy, "there's really no point in trying to wake him up. He's had a long day."

A long day. Morty seemed to have more long days than any other fourteen-year old in history. Between his and Rick's adventures, and then having the weight of an entire dimension's fate on his shoulders, Summer considered her brother more of a zombie than a kid by now. Nevertheless, she retracted her hand and began to shrug her ski coat back on as Yhlari headed over to the lockers against the wall.

"You won't need that. You'd bake under all that fabric," the alien told her as Summer struggled with the zipper. Smirking at her confused expression, Yhlari tossed Summer something tan, which she caught with one hand. "We're going to use these instead."

Draping her ski jacket over the back of a chair, Summer unfolded the bundle and felt her lip curl immediately. It was a poncho made of a material that felt strikingly similar to burlap and with a hood sewn into the back. Summer cast an annoyed look over to Yhlari, who shrugged apologetically. "Do you really want to walk around with that in plain view of the Gromflomites?" she asked, nodding to Summer's thigh holster with Weisenhurt's pistol strapped to her side.

"I suppose not..." Summer grumbled to herself, begrudgingly slipping the poncho over herself. It was extremely heavy, and itched at her shoulders whenever she moved. "But I wasn't exactly planning on looking like a 1995 Chico's reject, either."

"Trust me Summer, you'll be grateful for the anonymity," Yhlari assured her as she slipped on her own poncho, smoothing her white hair down. To be fair, the rebel's own pistol was safely tucked in the folds of the poncho, out of sight from wandering eyes. Still, didn't mean she had to like it very much.

Summer tried not to show her displeasure as Yhlari began to type coordinates into the prototype. She came to join her, natural curiosity beginning to get the better of her. "Anything I should know?" Summer wondered aloud.

"Just stay close to me," Yhlari's voice grew stern, talking to Summer as if she was a soldier, not a friend. "You don't want to wander off in places like this. There are all sorts of folks here, and I'm sure you've assumed that most of them aren't friendly. A lot of them are desperate and willing to do anything to get a few extra Fed Credits if it means getting what they need. So stick with me, speak softly, and keep your impulses in check."

Summer nodded. Yhlari finished plugging the coordinates in and pressed the on button on the remote. It took a few shudders and moans, but the prototype eventually complied and spat out a portal on the wall. Wordlessly, unceremoniously, Summer followed her trainer through the green hole and disappeared into the green swirls.

-X-

The first thing that hit Summer was the smell. Oh God, the smell. It smelled like the unholy lovechild of rotten eggs and dirty gym clothes if it was raised in a trash compactor. It was all she could do to not visibly gag as the two of them strode out into the open on Wil-whatever, the stench hitting Summer like a seventy-mile per hour semi. Yhlari kept much better face than she did, but not even Summer missed her cringing as she stepped out of the portal. "This way," she said through a barely suppressed gag, dragging Summer away.

They had landed in some sort of alley, a thin strip of road wedged between two buildings with barely enough space to squeeze in and out of. The ground was hard and cracked beneath her boots (something Summer was more grateful for than she would admit; with all the talk of shit going on, she was afraid she'd be walking through it) and dirty beyond comprehension. The buildings themselves were similar, with crumbling fixtures and pieces of the framework sticking out like fractured bones. A sound, something that reminded Summer of a running engine, filled her ears as she and Yhlari inched their way between the buildings. Summer briefly looked upwards and saw swarms of spaceships zooming in and out from between the gap in the buildings, and was momentarily mesmerized until Yhlari tugged on her arm and dragged her back into reality.

As if thrown into a school of fish, the two of them slipped out of the alley and were immediately met by hordes of civilians squeezed together in the road. An elbow found Summer's stomach, and some stray appendage nearly wrapped its way around her legs, and she was forced to fight for what little personal space was available to her as to simply stand up straight and move forward. A sea of aliens pressed up against either side of her, breath hot down her neck as she rocked and rolled with the will of the crowd around her. Yhlari stayed close to her side, never once leaving, and Summer felt woozy with relief as she tried to mimic her composure. Only when she could take a few steps forward without tripping, finally accustomed to the rhythm of the mob around her, did she allow herself to look around.

Summer had never seen so many shades of yellow in her entire life. The buildings surrounding them appeared to all be built of the same material, most of which had been broken apart or chipped away. Filthy yellow pieces of rock littered the ground—Summer could feel herself kicking them every other step as they went on. Even the sky was this dark gold, bearing a strong resemblance to vomit. As if on a highway, ships crowded high above them and obscured most of the worlds beyond. Pressing against the crowd were stalls for a giant street market. The place buzzed with noise as aliens hollered over the crowds and waved arms filled with junk. They attracted some, only some, customers. Most appeared to be too occupied with their destination to pay the bazaars much mind. The air around Summer felt…stale, almost like it was aged and recycled many times over again, and she found each new breath harder and harder to take in. Her glimpses of aliens were brief at best, each of them different, some species she recognized and some she didn't. And Summer found that the more she looked, the more miniscule details she noticed. The dull, defeated look that glazed every alien eye. The Gromflomite patrol posted on every street corner. The way that Yhlari tugged her hood over her head and stared straight ahead, not meeting anyone's eyes.

"Are you okay?" Summer asked in undertone as the two of them passed another Gromflomite patrol who'd snagged a group of orange Fragilians on the edge of the crowd. Even the biggest one was cowering under the sight of the laser rifle clutched in the thing's pincer. A baby wailed in the arms of one of it's parents. Despite her heart momentarily clenching with helplessness, Summer continued forward and allowed the crowd to sweep her away. Her hand brushed against her pistol, and she found it surprisingly hard to pull away from it.

Yhlari had seen it too, but her hands balling in and out were the only outward sign of her frustration. "I've spent a lot of time in a lot of places," she whispered back, "and I've done things that's given me quite a bit of notoriety. It'd be best for me to keep my head down lest someone recognizes me."

"But aren't there, like, tons of your species or something?" Summer asked casually. "Do you guys get around? I mean, how hard would it be to claim that you were someone else?"

Yhlari kept up such a wall around the two of them that trying to decipher her emotions was like trying to read a book while blindfolded, but Summer swore she saw the alien bristle for the briefest of moments. "Of course," she replied tersely. "But, well, it's a little more complicated than that."

"Wha-?"

"Eyes ahead, mouth shut." Yhlari hissed hurriedly. "See? We're nearly there. Keep yourself moving."

Although less than satisfied with the answer, Summer looked up in time to see the crowd begin to diverge. Some went left, others went right. The Federation building sprawled out in front of them, shiny and new as a stark contrast to the dead and dusty Wilflaj it was made on. On the highest tower, Summer noticed a symbol glowing green that looked like an upside-down triangle. A wire fence lined the perimeter with watch towers breaking the fencing every few yards or so. As Yhlari and Summer took the left path, they were forced up against the barrier, and Summer was able to get a decent look inside. The wall was made up entirely of garage doors, at least twenty of them. Gromflomite patrols stood off every ten feet from each other as they crossed the yard, which stretched out a few hundred feet before the actual building even began. And even then, assuming they got inside without being caught or shot at, the outside was so huge that they were sure to get spotted before they even got close to finding Rick's ship.

"How the hell are we even supposed to get inside?" Summer couldn't help voicing her fears aloud, throwing glances over her shoulder to make sure her voice was low enough to be overlooked by wandering ears, "We can't just run the fence and make a break for it."

Yhlari was nodding thoughtfully. "I have a plan…of sorts," she added after a moments hesitation. "But a lot of it is going to need to rely on whether or not the Federation still does stuff the way they did the last time I was here, and that was more than five years ago. Judging by the crowd, I'm thinking they do. Until then, keep quiet. If plan A is a no-go, then we're going to have to improvise."

As Summer was going to ask what plan A even was, she crashed into the back of the now stopped alien in front of her. Before she could mutter an apology, the alien had spun around. It was something she'd never seen before: forest-green with seven beady red eyes and long beefy arms that dragged on the ground. The thing stared at her, and Summer felt more curious than scared when she realized that it wasn't angry with her. Seven eyes narrowed in concentration, the alien gazed at her for a few more seconds before turning back around and shouldering through the halted crowd.

"That was weird," Summer said, leaning against a watch tower.

"Not really," Yhlari, Summer noted, was still keeping her head lowered as she joined her side. "Earth hasn't invented intergalactic space travel yet, right, which means that Rick was the first to do so in your planet's history. So you, him, and your brother make the only three humans in history to make it out of your system." Her tone held a slight hint of teasing in it now. "I guarantee you that all of these guys have never seen a human before. No surprise they'd want to get a good look at you."

"I suppose so…" Summer grumbled, crossing her arms in front of her chest. The entire crowd had also stopped with the two of them. They milled about, anxiously glancing over their shoulders. With eyes downcast, Summer could only speculate as to what they were so nervous about.

As she went to scratch the back of her neck, a hand brushed against something crumpled. Summer took a step back and was met with a large wall of papers posted on the watch tower. There were so many that some were stapled over top of the others. Several hundred faces stared back at her with hard eyes and fierce expressions etched into the ink. Staring in amazement, Summer plucked one off the wall and examined the face of a rather furious-looking Gazorpian. The price was down below, and Summer couldn't read it. It seemed to be about four figures, however.

"Wanted posters," Yhlari told her without raising her head. "Some of these people in the crowds are bounty hunters. It's an easy way to get Fed Credits, which are the only currency the Federation accepts. Humph, with all the inflation, Flurbos pretty much have the value of a paper clip out here. It's easy money if you've got the skills for it, and the Federation always appreciates someone doing their jobs for them."

Summer threw a look over her shoulder, suddenly understanding the apparent fears of the aliens. "How many of these guys are, you know, bounty hunters?" she asked, keeping her voice soft.

Yhlari looked up and made a quick scan of the crowd around them before jerking her head towards her left. "See that alien over there? The purple one? That's a Nerfliogie from the Whilomion system." Summer followed her motion towards an alien with long-flowing hair and a black jumpsuit. Its eyes were narrowed and shifty, fliting back and forth as if it expected to get pounced on at any moment. "Bounty hunters are notoriously easy to spot once you know the look of one. A few are wanted themselves, so you'd want to keep a low profile."

"And you would know that, wouldn't you? You were one yourself?" Summer guessed.

Yhlari didn't answer her for the longest of times, and for a minute Summer was worried that she'd offended her. But at last, she let out a gentle laugh. "No getting things past you, Summer. Yeah, I hunted for a little while, but not for long." Her voice dropped with untold burden. "It got tiring. Too hard to look at that wall and see the faces of all of your friends staring back at you."

It was like a weight had been forced down her throat, her stomach tightening up as it dropped. Summer said nothing and returned her attention to the wanted posters, trying to busy herself and keep her mind free of the information she was blessed with not knowing. Ignorance truly is bliss, Summer thought, no wonder Grandpa Rick was always so bitter all the time.

How many of his friends did he see get locked away? Or worse?

Pushing the dark thoughts to the back of her mind, Summer determinately pawed through the posters, focusing instead on the crooked illustrations and the runes she had still been unable to decipher. The crowd around them stayed motionless, and she savored the relief she had from the constant moving.

After some time, as Summer dug through several layers, she found something interesting. Tugging out a yellowed paper, she stared at an unmistakable likeliness glaring back at her. The face was drawn back into a snarl, with several nonexistent scars crisscrossing the face. The bounty attached was at least six figures. Maybe even seven.

The alien caught sight of her gawking at the paper. "You've found me, haven't you?" she asked dryly.

Summer nodded.

Yhlari exhaled, leaning heavily on the tower. "There's a reason I haven't been here in a long time," she said soberly, "too risky." And that was all she said. But she didn't need to say any more than that. Summer didn't pin the poster back up; instead, she pocketed it. It was something she needed to dwell on later.

The minutes ticked by. Summer and Yhlari stayed in place, waiting for something that Summer wasn't even sure what it was. The longer she waited, the more antsy she got. She couldn't help it; it was too easy to dwell on all the bad things that could go wrong here, where they had very little help and even less of a plan. Summer's mind drifted back to her brother, hopefully still safe and sound back in the bunker. In doing so, her gut twisted with guilt. Was it safe to just leave him like that, alone with no one to guard him? What if the Federation found him?

Her paralyzing thoughts were rudely interrupted by a blaring siren, drawing the attention of every alien on the street. Summer jumped, feeling like she had been pulled out of deep water. "Did someone jump the fence?" she hissed to Yhlari, reaching for her gun, "or did someone get shot? What happened?"

Yhlari remained unperturbed. "Relax," she said, calm and collected as usual, "it's only the all-clear signal. They're letting us in."

"in where?" Summer asked.

In answer came in the form of a massive shift in the crowd, which nearly swept Summer off her feet. Yhlari made a grab for her and latched onto her wrist, hanging on as the mass of bodies lurched forward. Once she recovered her wits and adjusted herself, Summer could see what caused the commotion. An entrance had opened, allowing the crowd to pour into the compound. Moving with the rest of the group, Summer and Yhlari slid onto the grounds and were funneled into a thin line, Gromflomites posted on either side to keep them enclosed. Up close, she got a clear view of their armor and their guns, glinting harshly in the light.

The crowd dispersed after some time to a small section of the yard right up against the building. Summer caught sight of various piles of junk and scrap metal piled up in large mounds, with aliens digging through it as if they thought gold was buried at the center. Some came up with things they clearly needed, victorious expressions on their faces, and were quickly approached by Gromflomites demanding Fed Credits. Some faces fell, and they went to return their prizes. Other faces twisted in annoyance but nevertheless dolled out the money. It was a curious practice that Summer had no time to see as Yhlari dragged her over to the nearest pile of junk.

Out of the corner of her eye, Summer saw that the alien was pretending to examine the scraps but was inching her way to the next pile, her path leading her towards the walls of the compound. Summer did her best to emulate, even thumbing through a few pieces of scrap metal, which earned her a small nod of approval from Yhlari.

Slowly, slowly, the two of them jumped from pile to pile until they shuffled around the last mound before the wall, out of sight from the Gromflomites. Like a rocket, and with absolutely no warning, Yhlari took off for the wall and rounded the corner, leaving Summer to sprint after her and pray that they weren't seen. The alien had the decency to wait on the other side as Summer joined her and caught her breath. She listened, waiting for alarms to sound, as surely someone had saw their mad dash for illegal grounds. But nothing ever came.

Once Summer had caught her breath, Yhlari motioned for her to follow and they continued on their way. On they traveled, pressed against the dark walls, moving as fast as they could. The outside offered no cover for them, so Summer had to press herself against the walls and hope that none of the Gromflomite patrols would turn around.

On and on they went, passing over garage door after garage door after garage door. It was agonizing, not being able to enter one of them to get out of the open, but Summer didn't dare raise a complaint now. Yhlari would talk to herself as they passed each garage door, giving a small shake of her head as an affirmation to Summer that they still hadn't found what they were looking for.

At last, they stopped. Yhlari examined the sign in front of the door. "'Detained Vehicles, Section S'," she announced, pulling out a small pen-like item. "Okay, if Rick's ship is here, then this is where they would have taken it."

Yhlari pressed the pen to the garage door and sparks flew out of the tip. As she worked, Summer dared to ask "and what if it's not?"

Yhlari didn't answer. Or chose not to. Summer couldn't tell the difference.

It took a minute, but Yhlari finally finished tracing a hole with her sparky pen. She pushed it and the piece of metal she had carved out fell with a clang. "After you," she offered, allowing Summer to crawl through the hole and into the garage. She took refugee behind the first ship she could find, feeling Yhlari enter behind her and look over her shoulder.

The place was…huge. Massive and magnificent ships of all shapes and sizes were lined on either side. Some were the size of Summer's house, others at least two or three times that or more. They stood side by side, rusting and wasting away with no one to care for them. It didn't look as if they had been touched since they had been seized.

"Shame that these are all going to waste," Yhlari echoed her thoughts. "Now, which one of these is Rick's ship? Remember Summer, we don't have a lot of time."

But Summer wasn't paying attention. Her eyes scanned the room silently, floating over the glorious ships in the garage until they fell upon a familiar sight.

And there it was, in all it's glory. Compared to the extravagant ships and vehicles that flanked it, Rick's ship looked like a hunk of junk metal in a china shop. It was a little more beat up than she remembered, sporting the laser fire and scorch marks of the battle at the reception that she'd much rather not think about. The ship had a busted headlight and the sticker that had said "GLORTO 86b" had been blasted off. But all in all, it looked flyable: a lot better than she thought it would be, actually. Summer almost squealed in joy, relief and elation overtaking her for a split second.

"See that one? The small gray saucer over there?" Summer hissed to Yhlari, "That's Grandpa Rick's ship."

There was no mistaking the surprise in Yhlari's voice, no matter how hard she tried to disguise it. "That old thing? I mean, it's…it's sorta, well…"

"Not what you imagined?" Summer guessed.

"I suppose so," Yhlari's voice was somewhere between apologetic and dissatisfied. "I mean, it's not exactly a pretty ship to look at."

Summer shrugged, unable to keep the defensiveness out of her tone. "Look, Grandpa Rick built it out of scrap stuff in the garage, so it's not like it's going to look like a million bucks or something."

"I know that, but I've seen your grandfather make handguns out of a potato, paper clips and some magnetized wires. Stop talking and focus on the task at hand." Yhlari's forceful tone signaled a clear end to the conversation, so Summer obediently shut her mouth and continued her observation of the garage.

Perhaps the strangest thing about the entire scenario was the massive crowd that Rick's ship drew. The rest of the room almost faded into the background because about seven or eight Gromflomite scientists crowded around the ship and talked amongst each other in soft voices. Two of them stood off to the side with wires at the ready, another two or three were at the front of the car with their claw hands hovering over the hood as if they were afraid to touch it, and two more were jotting something down on their clipboards. The Gromflomites at the hood of the car patiently looked at those with the clipboards—the head scientists, Summer guessed—like they were obediently awaiting orders.

"What are they doing?" Summer whispered.

"Shush," Yhlari snapped back, "Let's see."

The head scientists finally gave the two Gromflomites at the hood a nod, and there was a brief moment of hesitation before either of them made a move. The one on the left placed a pincer on the hood. And the minute it did so, it was as if a creature had been awakened. The ship's headlights flared, the hood clamped shut, and a familiar voice reverberated through the silent garage. "Voice identification required."

The Gromflomites at the hood let out shocked garbles in their native languages, clearly too scared to do anything else.

"Voice identification failed."

With a burst of electricity, the Gromflomites were thrown off their feet across the garage. They hit the windshield of the ship opposite Rick's ship and dropped to the ground, their wings flapping pitifully. Yhlari gasped but it was lost in the ensuing commotion as the Gromflomites rushed to their comrade's aid. The scientists were jotting something down, tutting between themselves. With the unconscious Gromflomites supported, the group made their way out of the garage and shut the door behind them with a frustrated slam.

Yhlari blinked, purple eyes wide in astonishment. "Never mind," she said weakly, "only Rick would be sadistic enough to have a security system like that."

Together, the two of them approached the car. Yhlari hung back, looking too nervous to even get within five feet of the thing, but Summer cautiously made her way to the hood.

"Be careful," the alien whispered.

Summer gently tapped the hood and her grandfather's car sprang back to life. "Voice identification required," it demanded in it's female voice that Summer both loathed and missed.

"It's me," Summer said awkwardly. "Summer Smith? Remember?"

"…Voice identification accepted. Welcome back, Summer."

The car settled back down, the lights dying. When it was finally fully off, there was the sound of something inside clicking. Summer lunged forward and tested the handle to find that the car was now unlocked. Gratefully, the two of them slipped inside and shut the doors, Summer in the driver's seat and Yhlari in the shotgun. The interior had a rotted smell to it, a collection of the various stenches that had accumulated from discarded handles of liquor and rotted foods that had been locked on the inside. While Summer opened the door to toss a particularly moldy piece of pizza out, Yhlari examined the dashboard. "So, you do know how to fly this thing, right?"

Summer sat upright, staring at the console before her. Up close (Rick never let her sit shotgun, much to her disdain), the thing looked a lot more daunting than she remembered. Rick had stuck just about every color of button or switch into the dashboard, and she had no idea which ones did what. Summer wracked her brain for ideas, but her memory was failing her at the worst of times. Her hands hovered over the nearest set of buttons, Yhlari looking on expectantly.

With how uncertain she felt, Summer felt that the alarms probably came at the best time.

The two of them jumped as a siren—a much louder, threatening siren—boomed through the compound. Yhlari rounded on her, expression fierce. "Do you know how to fly this hunk of junk or not!?" she repeated as Summer fumbled for the controls.

Summer blanched. "Er… not really, no," the words came tumbling out of her mouth as she pressed a button on random. The only thing that happened was the glove compartment opening, spilling out empty beer cans and other miscellaneous things.

Yhlari stared at her as if the whole world was crumbling right before her eyes. When she spoke again, it sounded as though a dam of several years' worth of anger had been burst. "What do you mean, 'not really'!?"

At the same time, the door to the garage burst open. Out poured several Gromflomite soldiers, all of them armed to the teeth with weaponry. Summer had to force down her panic as she saw them take up positions behind other possessed cars, laser rifles armed and at the ready. She hit another button; windshield wipers swept back and forth uselessly.

"Grandpa Rick never exactly taught me how to drive! He only taught Morty!" In the heat of the moment, Summer tore her eyes away from all the buttons and switches and looked at the popped-open glove compartment. There, sitting on the floor amongst the other random crap Rick kept in his car, was his favorite blaster pistol. Summer had almost forgotten that he'd left it in the car after Beth and Morty convinced him to embrace the mellowness of the wedding. Well, no time to think about that now. Summer seized the pistol and started to roll down the window. "Forget about the car! We can work on that later!" leaning out the window, Summer aimed at the nearest Gromflomite and fired. She ducked back into safety, the scream that followed telling her all she needed to know. "Push buttons! Any buttons! We need to get this thing moving before these assholes can shoot us down!"

If Yhlari had any misgivings, the absolute barrage of laserfire that commenced in the meantime must've chased away any doubt that remained. Soon, Gromflomites were screaming and rifles were blasting and the ship shuddered and groaned under the volley of lasers. As if sensing that they were running out of time, Yhlari started hitting any and every button and switch she could reach without complaint, steely determination lighting her eyes. Summer joined her after a moment, and soon the air was filled with the pounding of gunfire and the sounds of button after button being slammed down as desperation overtook the two of them.

Yhlari hit something at random and Summer felt the ship jerk under her feet. Something whirred, like it was being charged up. A burst of green light blasted out of the top of the ship, and there were shrill screams as several Gromflomites went flying across the garage. Yhlari, looking pleased with herself, pressed the button again. "That's certainly something!" she shouted as another green laser shot out from the ship and launched a second group of Gromflomites off of their feet.

"Hey, ship!" Summer shouted over the commotion as she aimed and killed another Gromflomite.

"Yes, Summer?"

"Would you, oh, I don't know, like to get us the hell out of here!?" Summer screamed.

"That's not very kind, Summer. What's the magic word?"

She rolled her eyes. "Would you like to get us the hell out of here please!?" she snarled.

"That's better."

On the dashboard, a little button pulsed green. Without thinking, Summer slammed it down. The entire ship groaned and grumbled and began to lift into the air. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the wheel and adjusted the seat settings. Okay, two pedals, a gear shift, a radio. She could do this. It was just like driving a car. A really complicated, homicidal car.

"Keep firing and hold on!" Summer shouted. Before Yhlari could protest, Summer slammed on the gas pedal.

It was as if she was being fired out of a rocket launcher. The two of them shot forward faster than Summer could possibly predict, hurtling towards the still closed garage door. Summer felt her hands brush over a button on the top of the steering wheel and pressed it, hoping for the best. Something red and pulsing fired out from their car, and the ship crashed into smoke. They burst out onto the other side, climbing further and further into the vomit sky.

It was strangely freeing, blasting off again without being tethered anymore. As Summer turned the ship upwards, she felt a kink in her gut unknot itself, as if something was being lifted off her shoulders. For the first time in eight months, Summer felt unburdened by all the shit that had fallen at her feet in the wake of her grandfather's capture.

By now, all the Gromflomites had been alerted to their presence and were firing their laser rifles upwards. Summer twisted and turned the wheel this way and that, expertly rocking the car back and forth in order to avoid being shot out of the sky. Yhlari bounced in her seat, looking queasy. Higher and higher they went, and the laser fire died down as they flew out of their range.

Yhlari recovered enough to force out her fears. "Ships…they're going…they're going to send ships. Need to…ugh, we need to leave."

"Ship?" Summer asked aloud. Space was so close; she could see the first few pinpricks of stars in the sky as they began to appear, one by one. "What do we have that can make us go faster?"

"The dark matter reserves should be fully charged, Summer. Why don't you, like, use those?"

"Cut the sarcasm, asshole."

Another thing on the dashboard began to pulse, this time a big purple switch. Yhlari flicked it without a second thought, and Summer hit the gas pedal, hard.

Summer had never thought about what it would be like to do the hyperspace thing that they did in Star Wars, with the whole "stars elongating and going at light speed" thing, but this was something that felt pretty damn similar. Her body was thrown back as the ship put on an extra thousand miles per hour in just two seconds, and suddenly they were flying past the stars and the planets. Wilfaj-223 was left behind, far behind. She couldn't move, pinned by the force of the dark matter boost. At this point, Summer was certain they were going to crash into some wayward planet and become space road kill.

"Hit the brakes!" Yhlari screeched from the shotgun seat.

It took all her energy, but Summer lifted her foot slightly and pressed the pedal. The ship slammed to a halt next to some pale green planet, and Summer was thrown forward. The steering wheel met her stomach, and the wind was knocked out of her like a popped balloon. She fell back wheezing, her guide falling into a similar position, breathless.

They allowed themselves a minute to recollect themselves before speaking, Summer rubbing her aching gut. Yhlari looked at the green planet and sighed. "Okay, I know where we are. We're pretty far out from FR-0284, but we aren't anywhere close to the Wilfaj, either," she sighed with relief. "It's going to take them hours to cover the distance we just did. Ugh…" She leaned back, offering Summer a smile. "Good job, Summer. You did really well, better than me under all that pressure. Your grandfather…he'd be really proud of you, even if he wouldn't be caught dead admitting it."

Summer said nothing. Would Grandpa Rick be proud of her? Back when he was home, it seemed like all he ever did was treat her like a bother. Like a less important version of her natural-sidekick brother. "Girls-don't-go-on-adventures" this, "Summer's-too-PMS-y-to-do-anything-right" that.

But then she thought about all the times that seemed to break her supposed idea of how her grandfather treated her. Rick, for all his talk about how girls shouldn't go to space, did take her on a lot of adventures with Morty over the past year. And there were times where he did seem to rely on her more than he would let on. The Purge Planet fiasco was one of the few times she'd heard him sound on the verge of desperation. And he had called her. Not his alien friends. Her.

Did her grandfather even feel pride? Somewhere deep in that Pandora's Box of a heart, maybe, but she always got the feeling that he felt more than he would ever dare to say.

Summer looked around for a moment. She'd missed this. The vast, comforting emptiness of space. It was almost like a second home for her. Satisfied, she straightened herself back up and gripped the wheel. "Lets go back, then," she said. "We'd better go and figure out our next move."

Finally, a Summer chapter! I want to make them much more frequent now that I actually made one. I love Summer so much and if season 3 doesn't include more of her, I will pop a gasket.

Thanks for reading and please follow, fav or review if you enjoyed!