Space. The final frontier. Space is… empty. And stuff. Research suggests the known universe consists mostly of space, and space is 99% empty. Nobody really knows what "space" is. Some people aren't even a hundred percent convinced that "space" is a thing that exists. You might think that's silly, but this narrator likes to keep an open mind to the idea that space is just a hologram, invented by Obama to pad out the universe like a mildly entertaining Dragon Ball filler arc.

In this dimension, Dimension C-131, space is ostensibly not a hologram. Space Dimension C-131 is a very real place where very real planets orbit a very real sun which itself orbits a very real black hole in the center of the very real Milky Way Galaxy.

Besides this, however, space is still a mostly empty place. Between the planets and stars and asteroids and comets and nebulae and such is a vast sea of absolutely jack shit. This, of course, made the straight-up space car flying through it all the more noticeable. Not that there was anybody in space to notice it, because again, space is empty.

We join the inhabitants of this car—an elderly, alcoholic, seventy year-old genius inventor and his teenaged grandson—midway through a rather mundane conversation. But in space.

"So you see, Morty," the older man spoke, leaving only one hand on the wheel and hardly paying attention to the metaphorical road as he did so, "really, the whole 'pyramid scheme' thing is really, really profitable. But—" the man burped— "but you gotta make sure you're at the top, Morty."

His grandson—Morty—leaned back in his seat and pondered his grandfather's words. "Gee, Rick, that's— I mean, you know, I feel like that's kind of self-explanatory. I mean, you know, the people at the top are at the top for a reason, you know? It's GETTING there that's the problem, you know?"

Rick rolled his eyes. "Okay Morty, well, you aren't getting it. What's the smallest part of a pyramid?"

"The top?"

"Exactly, M-oh, Morty. The smallest part is the top. The bottom is big, and fat, and can fit a lot of people." Rick pointed a finger at the floor, as if to make a point about the people at the bottom. "See, Morty, all those other idiots, down there, at the bottom, they- they're trying to recruit all these new buyers, or members in their special little clubs, or whatever, and the problem is that the more people there are involved in a scheme, the less people you can GET involved."

"Okay, but—"

"I'm not finished, Morty, shut up for a second. Morty. Okay. So the scheme grows exponentially. Right? It's— it's unsustainable. Only the people at the top profit. So HOW do you get to the top of a scheme that's already running itself into the ground, Morty?"

"I don't know, Rick. How do you—"

"You recruit the creator of the scheme into your own scheme, Morty. He's sitting on all of this money, all of these people, he thinks— you know, that he can afford to lose some of it, so you go to him, Morty. All of the money funnels upwards—"

Morty glared at his grandfather. "Are you trying to scam some dangerous alien CEO? Is that what we're on our way to do?" he asked.

"Listen Morty, this guy is the Mark Zuckerberg of Tilapias IX. He's willing to invest in a lot of crazy shit, you know, Mark Zuckerberg bought Oculus just because he could. I- I think I know what I'm talking about, Morty. You know, the people of Tilapias IX, they've never seen Rubik's Cubes before. Blows their fucking mind. They have lasers and spaceships and little pills that give you x-ray vision, but they don't have Rubik's Cubes. We could make a fortune, Morty."

"Selling Rubik's Cubes."

"No, Morty, it's a scam, weren't you listening?" Rick scolded his grandson. "We're going to TELL them that if they give us money, they can be a part of our Rubik's Cube operation, then we're going to bail as soon as we have the money. Then we get to keep the money AND the Rubik's Cubes."

Morty sighed and glared out the window. "Okay, Rick." A moment of silence passed as Morty stared out the window. Realizing something, he raised an eyebrow. "Hey, you know Rick, I don't— this doesn't look like a part of space I've seen before. I don't recognize it."

"Well, yeah, no shit, Morty, it's space," Rick burped. "Space is vast and empty and nothing is ever in the same place twice, and it all looks the same. We could have been here a million times over and you still wouldn't recognize it."

"Aw, jeez Rick, you know, I guess— yeah, you know, you're right about that."

"With that being said, you're absolutely right, we've never been to this part of space before." Rick glanced out the window and stared at the emptiness. "This is a pretty rough neighborhood, Morty, I- I try not to take you out here, you know? But the stupid Galactic Federation put a god damn toll booth between Gazorpazorp and the Tilapias system, so we have to take this road."

"It's— but it's SPACE," Morty said, confused. "I don't— Rick I don't understand, we can just GO AROUND the toll booth, we're not on any roads."

"Just don't— don't think about it too hard, Morty. Trust me, I've tried every solution that's about to make its way into your mind because I thought of them first."

Morty simply blinked, a stupid look appearing on his face. He then turned to stare back out the window. "Hey, uh, Rick? We're not— we aren't moving."

"It's perspective, Morty, all of those stars are very far away, we're going thousands of miles an hour."

Morty looked down and noticed a rather tiny planet inhabited by rather tiny people, right outside his window. The planet was about the size of a basketball, and Morty could see little spots that looked like civilizations dotted all around the planet. "We're not moving, Rick. There's— there's a planet of little people outside our window. We aren't moving."

Rick's unibrow curled as he raised one side. Taking a sip from his flask, he glanced down at the computer monitor on his dashboard to see just what the hell was going on. His eyes widened with alarm. "Oh, shit."

"What?"

Rick started frantically hitting buttons around the cockpit. "Jesus Christ, Morty, we're in a tractor beam!"

"What?!"

"We were maintaining a low profile, how— Why the fuck would they tractor beam some tiny piece of space junk like that?!"

"Rick, do you know the people that have us?!"

Rick burped. "Sssshhhut up Morty! I need to focus! Hand me that screwdriver!"

Morty glanced around, noticing a screwdriver sitting at the top of the tool box in the back seat. He reached back to grab it, but stopped when he saw the shadow looming above him. Morty stared up out the back window and saw a rather large object approaching. His eyes widened.

"J-Jesus Christ, Rick, what the fuck is that?!"

"Just hand me the screwdriver, Morty!"

Morty did as he was told and handed his grandfather the screwdriver. "Oh jeez, Rick, what are we gonna do?!"

"Don't worry, Morty!" Rick yelled as he began to unscrew a panel underneath the dashboard. "I've got it all under control, as usual. J-just shut your trap for three seconds, they aren't going to get us, Morty. I'm gonna— I'm gonna blow up the car."

"WHAT?!" Morty yelled, taken aback. "Jesus Christ, Rick, put the screwdriver down!"

"Morty, these people, they're bad people Morty!"

"YOU'RE bad people!"

Morty began to grab at the screwdriver, which he and Rick started to wrestle over. "Morty, think about it. Think about all of the SERIOUSLY fucked up things you've seen on these adventures. If I had a REASON for not taking you to this part of space, you better believe it was a damn good reason! I wasn't—I wasn't keeping you away from here for shits and giggles, Morty!"

"Rick, put it down!"

"They want my portal gun formula, Morty! These assholes have been trying to get it for years!"

Morty successfully tackled Rick to the floor of their car, preventing him from blowing it up and killing them both. "Rick! For god's sake, can't we go on one god damned adventure without you trying to blow us up?!"

"Let go of me, Morty!"

Suddenly, the door opened, and Rick and Morty fell out, landing in a heap on a cold, metal floor. They were no longer in space.

"Rick, I think we're on their ship." Morty looked up, and noticed several humanoid aliens towering over them. "Aw, jeez, listen, uh, we were just—"

"Coming with us," the center alien—their leader, probably—growled. The alien sounded female, Morty decided, though honestly when you're in space, the entire concept of gender tends to go out the window. At least they spoke English.

"Right," Morty muttered. "Look, we— alright."

"Great going, Morty," Rick said as he and Morty were pulled off of the floor by their captors. "You ever sit there and think, you know, maybe there's a reason grandpa was trying to kill us both? We're at the mercy of the Authority now, Morty, and they are piiiiissed at me."

Morty glanced again at their captors and took note of the diamond-shaped insignias on each of their chests. "They're mad at you. So what you're saying is they'll let me leave?"

"Evil is petty, Morty, they'll kill you just for being in the same room as me." Rick glanced at the aliens escorting them. "Actually, they'll probably kill the escort, too."

One of the aliens—a purple one with long hair—leaned over to her leader, an orange alien with slightly shorter hair and red markings on her face. "Hey, they're not going to shatter us, right?"

The leader shrugged. "I'm sure Our Diamond is in a good mood today."

"Oh, the Diamonds are on this ship, are they?" Rick asked. "Morty. New plan. We're blowing this whole ship to kingdom come."

"We heard that," one of the guards sighed.

"Yeah, I wanted you to. Also, I don't care, we're still going to blow it up."

"Rick!" Morty hissed.

"Besides which," the guard said, glaring at Rick, "they are NOT on this ship. We will be taking you to them, however."

Rick glanced around at the ship's walls. "This place is in—it's in a real sorry state. What, did all of the Peridot technicians call in sick today?"

"What the hell's a Peridot?" Morty asked.

"They're like the car mechanics of this species' planet, Morty. S-see, these aliens have a sort of mineral-based caste system. More precious minerals are at the top, and the shittier ones are at the bottom. The Peridots are like the second- or third-lowest rank. So like I was saying, where are they at?"

"Peridots were deemed obsolete and purged last week," the leader responded casually. "We don't really know. There aren't any more of them, I don't think. Three of them went to Earth in the last two light years."

"Light years measure distance, dipshit."

"As I was saying, one of them failed her mission and the other two went rogue. Must be a defective batch, or something."

"Hey, you hear that, Morty?" Rick said, leaning over to his grandson. "They're 'defective'. You got us captured by Space Hitler. Proud of yourself?"

"Knock it off, Rick. You use the 'Space Hitler' excuse at least once a month."

"Listen Morty, I'm just saying that space has a lot of creatures comparable to or worse than Hitler. The Authority is definitely worse than Hitler."

Rick and Morty were taken to what appeared to be the ship's bridge. Morty stared at the captain's seat, which was helmed by an adorable-looking midget with red skin and cube-shaped hair. Rick started laughing.

"Are you serious?!" he said, saliva forming at his bottom lip as his laugh caused him to spit up a bit of his earlier drink. "Y-you're kidding, right? What, you were out of Peridots, so you decided that the next best pilot was a Ruby?"

"Aw jeez, Rick, you know, that— that might be a little racist, you know, like saying that Hispanics can't be doctors or that Asians can't be bus drivers."

Rick glared at his grandson. "Okay, first of all, no, and second of all, this species isn't LIKE us, Morty. At the end of the day, our skin color doesn't matter because we're all made of the same stuff. Theirs does." Rick pointed at the Ruby in the captain's seat. "Rubies are professionally retarded, Morty. It's literally in their job description. They were designed to be that way so that they don't question orders. If a Puerto Rican guy wants to be a brain surgeon, he can do that, I don't give a shit. If a Ruby wants to do anything other than Hulk Smash her enemies, she's gonna have a real tough time, Morty."

"Please shut up," one of the guards groaned. "You two are so annoying."

"Hey, so NONE of you are questioning that purge?" Rick continued. "You guys are all going to outlive your usefulness one day, that's all I'm saying."

"Set a course for Homeworld," one of the guards said to the Ruby on the captain's seat, who nodded and began charting a course.

"Strap in, Morty," Rick said as he retrieved a flask from his coat pocket. "Th-" he belched "-this is gonna be a good one."

The aliens' home world was not far. Morty stared out the window in awe as the ship approached the planet.

"There it is, Morty," Rick grabbed his grandson around the shoulder and drew him in closer as he gestured toward the planet with his free hand. "Geminga 7, the Gem Homeworld. I-imagine if Stalin had his own planet. That's what this planet is, Morty. Even the Galactic Federation won't fuck with these guys, that's how hardcore they are."

"What do they do?" Morty asked.

"Mostly colonize other planets," Rick responded. "If a planet hasn't gotten it, they either are about to or already have and you just don't know about it. Gazorpazorp probably has like a million and one kindergartens on it, just waiting to hatch super soldiers."

"So why haven't they colonized Earth?"

Rick shrugged. "They were on Earth at some point. Why they left? Don't ask me, it's not for me to say, it was thousands of years ago." Rick stared at the planet once more as the ship entered its atmosphere. "Alright, I'm bored of this, let's get out of here," he said as he retrieved his portal gun. "Field trip's over, we're leaving." Rick attempted to open a portal on the floor. Strangely, however, nothing happened. He clicked the trigger again. Everyone on the bridge was staring at him. He continued to click the trigger, and his eyes widened. "Oh, shit, Morty, what have you done?!"

"Me?!"

"You friggin' dope, Morty, you broke it!"

Morty glared at his grandfather. "How did I break it?! You were the one holding it!"

"It must have been damaged when you tackled me to the floor, Morty!"

"Alright, calm down you two," a Ruby commanded as she and two others pushed Rick and Morty through the ship. "The Capital is a short walk from here."

Rick raised one end of his unibrow. "The Capital? Aren't you— are you going to take us to that zoo you normally take prisoners to?"

The Ruby chuckled. "I don't think so, Sanchez. You've been on the Great Diamond Authority's hit list for years. I'm sure they'd love to get re-acquainted."

Rick nodded. "Aha. Gotcha. Alright, Morty, these guys know me. We're fucked."

"What did you do?"

"It's not about what I did, Morty. It's about what one of the many infinite other versions of me did." Rick gestured out to the sky as he and his grandson were led across a large bridge, suspended in midair seemingly by magic. "You know, the Citadel probably had more than one encounter with more than one version of the Authority. Ricks like to get up in other Ricks' businesses like that."

"Rick."

"With that being said, I do seem to recall involving the Gems in some kind of a pyramid scheme."

"Rick!"

"Profit is profit, Morty."

Morty rolled his eyes and glared ahead as they continued to the capital. This was nothing new, which should have made him angrier, but honestly, Morty had been desensitized to this sort of reckless endangerment from his grandfather. It made him angry that he couldn't get angry, of course, but all Morty could really feel about the situation right now was annoyance.

He was just annoyed.