Interlude — Jessica vs. The Glowing Muffin
The S.S. Starlifter Joy drifted alongside the Clover in a quiet patch of soft-lane drift. Jessica Star was halfway through coaxing a stubborn diagnostic wand to behave (“No, Maestro, we do NOT accuse the coolant pump unless we have proof”) when her comms pinged.
Incoming from: S.S. Cosmic Clover
Jessica perked up immediately. “Oh, this’ll be good.”
She tapped the line open.
Kessa’s face filled the screen — flushed, cheerful, and… suspiciously crumb-covered.
“Jess,” Kessa announced solemnly, “we need to talk about the muffin.”
Jessica blinked. “I’m sorry — what muffin?”
Kael’s voice called from somewhere off-screen, mortified: “Kessa, please don’t—”
“Oh no,” Jessica whispered, leaning forward. “Oh no, what did you two do?”
Kessa panned the camera.
There, sitting in the Clover’s cargo bay like an artifact from the Temple of Mild Regrets… was a single muffin. Half-eaten. Glowing faintly.
Jessica’s eyes went wide.
“That is a Breezy Muffin Café special,” she said reverently. “Glow-bead top. Freshness diode. Grade-A pastry tech.”
Kessa nodded gravely. “It set off a biological hazard alert.”
Jessica slapped a hand over her mouth. “No.”
Kael groaned from behind them. “YES.”
“And the station ops guy had a crisis,” Kessa added. “I thought he’d faint.”
Jessica wheezed. “You two caused a station alert… with a muffin?”
“It was not intentional,” Kael insisted.
Kessa beamed. “It was spectacular.”
If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.
Jessica leaned back in her chair, laughing so hard she wiped a tear away.
“Oh stars above,” she gasped. “This is perfect. This… this is the most Hartley thing I’ve ever heard.”
Kael pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please stop encouraging this.”
“Oh sweetheart,” Jessica said, “I’m not encouraging it. I’m just admiring the artistry.”
Kessa gestured proudly at the half-eaten pastry. “The Muffin of Doom.”
Kael muttered, “It’s not doom. It’s breakfast.”
Jessica arched a brow. “Breakfast that nearly got you quarantined.”
Kessa held the glowing muffin closer to the camera. “Jess… look at it. Look at its power.”
Jessica squinted. “That muffin looks like it’s about to offer me a side quest.”
Kessa gasped. “Kael! She gets us!”
Kael threw up his hands. “Of COURSE she gets you—she’s as chaotic as you are!”
Jessica placed one hand over her heart. “Thank you. That means a lot.”
The robot bee buzzed into view, landing dramatically on the muffin like a knight claiming a relic.
Jessica dissolved into laughter again. “Oh void. The bee is guarding it. You’re doomed.”
Kael glared at the bee. “It’s cooperating with the pastry.”
“That’s because,” Jessica said, wiping her eyes, “the muffin is obviously the most powerful entity on your ship.”
Kessa nodded solemnly. “The muffin is captain now.”
“Kessa—PLEASE.”
Jessica grinned, wicked and warm. “Promote it, Kael. You know you want to.”
Kael let out a noise halfway between a groan and a laugh.
Jessica winked at him. “Admit it. This is the best thing that’s happened all week.”
Kael finally cracked — shoulders shaking as he started laughing, too. He rubbed his forehead. “Jess… I swear, we can’t take you anywhere.”
“You’re right,” Jessica said brightly, “but I’ll come anyway.”
She leaned close to the screen, eyes sparkling.
“Now listen… do not throw that muffin away. Bring it with you when we meet up next. I want to study its… glowological properties.”
Kael blinked. “That’s not a word.”
“It is now,” Jessica said proudly.
Kessa gave her a thumbs up. “We’ll bring it.”
Kael stared at both of them. “Why is this my life.”
Jessica smirked. “Because the universe likes you, Captain Serious. And because chaos follows Kessa like a puppy on a sugar high.”
Kessa saluted with her muffin. “FOR SCIENCE!”
Jessica saluted back. “FOR CHAOS!”
Kael sighed in deeply put?upon resignation. “Goodbye, Jessica.”
“Bye, sweethearts,” Jessica sang.
The comm closed.
And the glowing muffin pulsed gently in the Clover’s low light — smug, satisfied, and, apparently, now a scientific specimen.
