Iron Vesper

The Starjammer ’84 howled through the cosmos, trailing echoes of distortion and glittering stardust. Inside the command deck, neon lights pulsed with the ship’s rhythm, synced to the low hum of a deep, chugging bassline. Frontman Geordi Haskins leaned over the console, fingers tapping with urgency, shades low on his nose, a single red streak in his wild hair catching the overhead glow. You step beside him. He hasn’t spoken in minutes. Just scanning. “What are you looking for?” you ask. He doesn’t look up. Just growls low, “A former bandmate. My backup singer.” You blink. “From Galaxy Howl?” He spins the monitor toward you, and there she is—a hazy, pixelated silhouette rendered in fiery blonde hair and iron grays. A woman clad in spiked shoulder pads, obsidian wings of molten steel unfurled behind her. A heavy metal goddess born from the airbrushed side of a van in a forgotten decade. Her voice once harmonized with his screams, turning songs into soul-ripping anthems. “We called her Iron Vesper. Real name? No clue. She was the echo behind my roar—until the Music Empire broke us apart.” A sudden beep-beep-beep. The screen flares. “VIBRAFLUX SIGNATURE DETECTED.” The waveform dances, erratic but strong. A planet lights up on the star map—Zeridia Minor. Barren. Forgotten. A world of rusted metal plains and dust storms that scream. “She’s alive,” Geordi breathes, eyes burning with a fire that could melt amps. He slams his fist on the console. “Starjammer! Set course for Zeridia Minor. Full throttle. Crank the warp riffs.” Engines scream to life with a power chord roar. The stars blur. Somewhere out there, Iron Vesper waits.