Chapter 1: You Win Some, You Lose Some (Mostly Sanity)

image [https://i.imgur.com/rD5x4FQ.jpeg]

Hi, it’s me, Sierra Fox. Everyone’s favorite space tyrant. Well, if anyone says otherwise, be sure to let me know.

You see, before I became a space tyrant with citizens worshiping the space I walk on—or float through, depending on the gravity setting—I used to be a guy called James Fox.

Technically, that’s who I was ten years ago, back when my biggest worry was choosing between studying for finals or grinding my way to the top in some space sim game. Spoiler alert: the space sim won.

I can still remember that fateful night in 2014. I was on my fifth energy drink—because what’s sleep, right?—trying to max out my stats and chuck my ridiculous avatar through space at light speed. And then... boom. Blackout. Gone. Nada. The next thing I know, I wake up, and I’m staring at my reflection.

Here’s where it gets weird. I’m not James Fox anymore. Oh no. I’m my joke avatar. You know, the one I made for laughs? Silver hair, bright blue eyes, and the kind of face that would make anime fans weep with joy. Basically, I turned into some flawless, beautiful, 17-year-old girl named Silverfoxx.

I know, cringe. That name didn’t survive long. I settled on Sierra Fox—it’s a bit more dignified for a space tyrant, right?

Anyway, I thought that was the worst of it. New body, new name, whatever. But then things got even weirder. I didn’t just look like my ridiculous avatar—I had powers too. Like, really dangerous ones. The first time I tried to pick something up with my mind, it exploded into a thousand pieces. Turns out, I’m telekinetic now. And yeah, things can get… messy.

So, fast-forward ten years. I haven’t aged a day. I still look exactly the same—still a beautiful, perpetually 17-year-old silver-haired girl with powers that could, in theory, take over the universe. Which, fun fact: I did.

Yep. Somewhere out there, in a totally different universe, I’m the owner of a supercapital ship the size of a small moon. Everything on this ship is controlled by Grams, an ex-AI overlord I conquered a few years ago. Then I turned her into my ship AI.

No worries, she’s perfectly safe. The only side effect is her sarcastic tendencies from time to time.

Now, why did I go to such lengths to fly solo, you ask? Oh, simple. Anytime I let other people on board, things got weird fast. Cults, sacrifices, weird chanting in hallways. No thanks. So I sent them all packing—sometimes through the airlock.

And that brings us to the present moment, which, let me tell you, is just fantastic. I’ve got this massive ship, I’ve got sarcastic Grams, and oh yeah, we just fell through a wormhole. Just another average day in the life of a space tyrant.

The good news? I’m back in my home universe. The bad news? I’m stuck here. The wormhole collapsed, so no more hopping back to my empire of crazy fanatics. Not sure if that’s a win or a loss.

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Anyway, here I am, floating at the edge of the Sol system. First thing I do? Cloak the ship—because nothing says "don’t freak out" like a small moon showing up unannounced. Then, I catch up on what I’ve missed in the last ten years by tapping into the absurd number of satellite systems conveniently orbiting Earth.

Turns out, it’s 2024 now, and surprise! My family is still alive. My mom, my dad, my little sister—still kicking and doing the normal human thing. Honestly, it’s a bit surreal. So, what do you think a reasonable space tyrant like me would do?

Of course, I should have a little chat with the world leader.

The question was, who’s in charge these days?

After a quick search through Earth’s primitive internet, I learned that the current president is someone named Ronald Dumbf. Not gonna lie, the name didn’t inspire much confidence, but hey, diplomacy’s all about giving people a chance.

So, at about 3 a.m. Washington, D.C. time, I decided it was a good idea to beam up Mr. President. You know, casual abduction-style. Just grabbed him from his bed, mid-snore, and whoosh, he’s standing in the middle of my ship’s control room in nothing but silk pajamas.

Now, I’m a space tyrant with the ability to snap necks or splatter people with my mind, but even I had to cringe at the sight. Silk pajamas. Really? I was starting to think I might’ve made a mistake.

"Grams," I whispered, "is this really Earth’s best and brightest?"

Grams responded through the nanomachines in my veins, "Unfortunately, yes. And you picked him."

"Right," I muttered, eyeing the president, who was blinking around like a confused, half-asleep child. I considered, for just a second, snapping my fingers and showing him what I could really do. Maybe lift him into the air, shake him around a bit—just to remind him who was in charge. But no. Diplomacy first. Violence later, if necessary.

So, I gave Mr. President a chance to collect himself. You know, because I’m considerate like that. He blinked, looked around, and the first thing out of his mouth was not a diplomatic greeting or a respectful inquiry about who I was. Oh no. Instead, he said:

"Where the hell am I?!"

"Hi there! You’re on my ship. Thought we could have a little chat. Diplomacy and all that good stuff," I said, trying to suppress the overwhelming urge to mentally hurl him into space. And FYI, that’s not a great start for intergalactic diplomacy.

He didn’t seem to get the memo, because then he threatened me. Apparently, Earth’s military could take me down, and if I didn’t land the ship and surrender immediately, there’d be consequences. Consequences!

This, from the guy who doesn’t even understand basic physics? "You see, if I land a moon-sized spaceship on Earth, the gravity from my ship alone would be enough to cause humans to become extinct.”

However, he didn’t even listen. His speech quickly devolved into Mr. Dumbf boasting about his 'huge missiles' and demanding to touch my chest (yep, it was that kind of conversation). I couldn’t decide if his brain had melted from the teleportation process or if this was just his natural state, but either way, I’d had enough.

"Alrighty then, Mr. President," I said, clapping my hands together, "this has been... fun. I’ll send you back now. Let’s just chalk this up as a dream, okay?"

I didn’t even wait for his response. With a flick of my wrist, I beamed him back to his bedroom. The second he disappeared, I collapsed into my chair, rubbing my temples.

"Grams," I said, exasperated, "please tell me there’s hope for this species."

Grams responded in her usual monotone, "Inconclusive. Subject may be a fluke. Or... all humans are this stupid."

Honestly, either option seemed plausible at this point.

So, that was my first attempt at Earth diplomacy. I’d like to say it went better than expected, but... let’s be real. It went about as well as beaming a guy named Ronald Dumbf onto a spaceship was ever going to go.

You win some, you lose some. And sometimes, you lose a lot of brain cells along the way.

Well, that’s enough world leader nonsense. Time to call my parents.