Episode 4 - A Big Fuss

‘Oh, look – a witch!’
They were on their way back to the crash site, near the place where they first entered the dome. Ann was standing not far away from them, looking scared and uncertain. She was clasping the brim of her hat above her face to cover it, but failed to realize her white hair was still flowing down her spine unrestrained. She stood in one place, unwilling to approach her newfound friends. A thousand thought raced thru her mind, ranging from “Did they see me?”, “How do I get out of that mess?” to “I wonder if a sandwich would do the trick?” Maybe there weren’t a thousand exactly, but they still were a lot.
She was indeed terrified. She had finally made friends she actually liked and she was about to blow things up sky high. And for what?
‘Oh, look,’ Owen repeated in a somewhat higher tone, ‘a witch!’
‘Bugger this’ Kara said, seeing Ann wasn’t making any effort to move whatsoever. The redhead charged towards her, mumbling something under her nose. Annette froze. She could feel the anger building up beneath the tattered clothes, the dishevelled hair, the deep blue eyes. She wished to say a prayer to some deity, any omnipotent and all-seeing merciful being, but she couldn’t think of any of those right now. At least not current ones.
‘Ann!’ Kara shouted as she got closer, ‘You, my dear, have some explaining to do.’
Why did everyone call her “dear”?
‘I, uhm—You see—Wha—’
Kara was already up close and personal.
‘You should have said you have a husband,’ she said with a finger stung in her shoulder.
‘What?’ the white-haired one seemed confused.
‘Jessy, was it?’ Kara turned towards Owen, who just nodded approvingly, ‘Yeah, Jessy!’
‘What? No! He isn’t my husband!’
‘Why the hell not? Seemed quite alright. Yes, nice chap. BIG axe. Overly excited, but okay.’
‘Sounds like you want him for himself,’ Owen joined in.
‘Nah, I wouldn’t do that to pretty Ann here,’ the engineer objected, ‘beside, he isn’t my type.’
‘Wait, guys--’
‘And what is your type?’
‘Well,’
Annette couldn’t hear the rest of the conversation. She was startled. She was expecting to face the full physical wrath of her companions – maybe Owen turning into something huge or vile and pinning her down, then Kara taking her apart, or just a simple normal beating that would leave bruises and swellings. That was what she was used to. She realized they were mocking her and were going to burst into laughter any moment now, but kept the play running. It was probably their way of torturing her. True, she did feel bad, but also relieved. Not just because she missed the dreaded beating that way, but because maybe, just maybe…
‘Guys, I’m not married! I don’t even like boys!’
Silence came down upon them like morning fog after an all-nighter of rain. For a while they were all blinking profoundly, appraising their current situation. The witched cast a spell none of them was really prepared to face.
Owen, as bravest of them all, was the first to break the ice like a fat penguin after an all-you-can-eat buffet.
‘Is she your type?’
That was the breaking point for them. They both burst into laughter, so loud, so hard and so sincere that Owen even toppled over and wiggled his paws in the air. Ann was looking at them and smiling awkwardly. Her feeling got “mega confused” as she herself would say, and she didn’t know what to do or what to expect next. She wasn’t even sure why she said what she said. It wasn’t a lie, no, but she couldn’t fathom how easy it would come out at such an inappropriate time as this one. Yet she felt relieved, as if a huge burden just fell of her shoulders. Not because her orientation was a problem, no, but because she may had finally found someone she trusted enough to share with. “Oh, Annete, so naïve,” she thought, “You just met these guys, why do you trust them?”. She didn’t know why, but she did. There was something soothing even in the way they mocked her that made her soul soar above, free and unburdened. She had been imprisoned in her own body for so long she almost forgot what it meant to be truly free.
‘So,’ she spoke, ‘am I?’ she noted that a smile had slithered on her face.
They both stopped, suddenly, abruptly. Ann didn’t know if it was still an act or if they were actually shocked by her question. Her worries flew away like a burst helium balloon as Kara laughed again and replied:
‘Look, I think you are hot, but I’m not on that side of the road just yet.’
The witch wiped some imaginary sweat off her forehead.
‘Good,’ she said, ‘I don’t think I could have handled another stalker.’
Then they all laughed again.

Back at the inn, Marshal was slowly coming to it. His head was pounding and he was silently cursing the liquor he had consumed thus far. He got up and looked around. The inn was empty and quiet, save for the humming of a radio broadcast coming from the Innkeeper’s office. He saw the damage cause by his brief brawl with Jessy and let out another curse then headed for the bar. The sound of the radio got a bit clearer – a hastih station was playing some of their native rhythms. Marshal hesitated to call it music, since music generally had melody, or at least, you know, notes. This was more of a cacophony of random noises recorded on the street. “A suitable pigsty for the pigs across the universe,” he thought, then yanked open a bottle of grog, took a gulp then sat on a bar stool.
He was still hazy, but he could vividly remember two pretty young girls being in the bar a while ago; one of them he knew – it was Annette O’Sage, the object of Jessy’s passionate and obsessive desires. He had to admit the girl had a certain charm but she was too shy and too conceding. The other – the red haired one – was new, and he didn’t know her. She looked as if she could hold her own. She was openly lying to the oaf about Ann and didn’t even flinch about it. Marshal thought he should get at least a conversation with her, to see if all that was just a masquerade or the redhead was really something else.
He didn’t even notice the snake-ferret creature that was along with the girls.
Marshal’s train of thought was derailed as the hastih approached him.
‘Drinkin’ again, eh?’
‘What else is there?’ Marshal replied with a smile on his face. His black hair had fallen over and covered a big portion of his face, but he didn’t bother to put it away. Instead, he just whiffed some air upward hoping to dislodge some of the locks.
The pig-like owner grinned.
‘You are gonna wanna hear this,’ he said, as he put the radio on the bar.

We interrupt this broadcast for a special announcement. We have just received word that Hydra has declared a new bounty for the capture of a certain their former employee. The bounty is currently at 10 million credits! Since this is a radio and we cannot show you a picture, we’ll just describe you the target, so listen up, bounty hunters of the Omega system!
Hydra is looking for a young female human with red hair and blue eyes who lost their shipment not so long ago. Hydra would be delighted to get the shipment back so the target is preferably to be caught alive or, if she resists, the location of the cargo extracted before disposing of her body.
You can claim your reward at any Hydra outpost you know at any time of the day!
Remember, the bounty is 10 million credits! So, buckle up, mercs, and good hunting!

Marshal kept periodically sipping and gulping straight from the bottle for the duration of the announcement. His vain attempt to remove his black locks ultimately proved futile but he didn’t care much.
‘So?’ he asked once the radio resumed the cacophony, ‘why should I care?’
The pig smacked him on the head.
‘You wine-sucking imbecilic buffoon!’ the barkeep said angrily, ‘She was ‘ere, you wanker!’ Marshal had a retarded poker face on, chugging on the bottle, ‘What kind o’ a bounty hunter are ya?’
The drunk suddenly spat out his drink, spraying it all over his host.
‘Hayle, that’s right!’ he slammed the bar, ‘I am a bounty hunter!’ he sprung up too fast from the stool and swayed a bit, but managed to remain upright, ‘now, where’s that girl with the booty?’
‘Bounty,’ the hastih corrected him.
‘Same thing.’

‘How far is your ship?’ the witch asked.
‘Beats me,’ Kara replied, ‘it shouldn’t be that far. All I can say is that it’s that way.’
They were walking in the same direction for some time now, and strangely, the weather seemed to cool down a bit. The obnoxious heat and foul air were stepping back in favour of a cool breeze. For a second there, Kara thought they were by a seaside, much like when she was back home. She would go by the water, roll her legs and dip her feet in the soothing streams. Her back would fall down on the gentle grass and her blue eyes would stare at the distant stars, dreaming. Dreaming of those same stars, of distant worlds, of strange creatures and marvelous treasures. A little girl with her head up in the clouds, eager to plunge among the stars.
But those days were gone now. Now she realized the sad truth – space was a cold, dark space, where the lights she once saw were slowly going off, one by one. She wasn’t that little girl anymore. But she still dreamed.
Ann said they should hurry before it got dark. The desert was thrice as unforgiving as it was in daytime.
‘Just pick up the pace,’ Kara insisted, ‘and hope Ann’s wrong about this place.’
Ann knew she wasn’t, but she didn’t breathe a word.
It was indeed getting darker. A strong wind rose from the north, lifting the sand around them. Owen started shivering, more out of fear than cold, but the witch reassured him – she was a sand witch, after all, so they would be safe for the time being.
‘We shouldn’t dawdle long though,’ she said, ‘I’m not almighty, you know.’
Owen tried to smile, but it wasn’t as genuine as he’d hoped. They both looked at Kara, who didn’t seem to be paying attention to their conversation. She was fixated on something in the distance and was hurrying towards it.
‘Kara, that’s not the direction our ship fell down,’ said Owen, ‘what’s up with you?’
Instead of replying, she darted.
‘Wait!’ they both screamed, then glanced at each other, shrugged and followed her.

Marshal stepped out of the inn, the bottle of grog in one hand, and rummaged thru his pockets with the other. He pulled out a smoke, tossed it up and caught it with his teeth, then pulled out a lighter. He was just about to light it, when he felt the irresistible urge to duck down. So he did, thumping on the rough ground, just in time to avoid the massive battle axe that was flying at him. The weapon drove into the wooden door of the inn and Marshal could hear the angry roar of his attacker coming from nearby.
‘MARSHAL!’ said the roar.
‘Oh, for crying out loud,’ mumbled Marshal, ‘you again--’
‘WE HAVE TO FINISH OUR FIGHT, YOU DRUNKEN BASTARD!’
‘Stop shouting, will you,’ he was sitting on the ground, leaned on the wooden door. He flicked the lighter and puffed the smoke, ‘you’re making my head hurt.’
‘I WILL MAKE YOUR EVERYTHING HURT!’
‘There go my ears,’ he said, and chugged on the grog. The bottle was already empty. ‘Great.’
Marshal stood up, tossed the bottle aside, put out the smoke with his foot and limped towards Jessy.
‘You’re in my way oaf,’ he addressed the big guy in front of him, ‘move aside.’
Jessy didn’t respond; he just roared fiercely once again and charged at his prey.
‘Hayle, have mercy,’ mumbled Marshal without breaking his version of a stride.
The big guy lunged at him, trying to deliver a straight punch to the face, but was easily blocked by the drunkard. The drunk then used his opponent’s momentum and let them tumble to the ground by swaying aside. It is important to note that Marshal wasn’t moving – he was swaying or swinging. Jessy managed to maintain his balance long enough to embrace the swift knee digging into his chest, which, to his amazement, bent him in half and pushed him back. The air rushed to get out of his body, so he coughed sharply. He managed to swiftly recuperate and swung again. Marshal swayed back, avoiding the blow, and fell on his back. The drunk then put his hands on the ground by his head and pushed himself up, legs first, flying at Jessy. The next moment his legs were clasping the giant’s thick neck, and the momentum was carrying them both down. Jessy was no match for that speed and couldn’t retaliate in time, so they both crashed on the ground. Marshal rolled forward, gaining some distance, then pivoted and lunged at his prone opponent. Flying above, he lashed a few strikes at the already wounded chest. Crimson lines covered Jessy’s front and blood gushed out of them, while Marshal dived head first into the ground.
‘Ouch,’ the drunk said, as he was standing up, ‘I always do that crap.’ He then went over to his downed adversary, inspecting him. Jessy was already choking, his angry little eyes looking at him.
‘GO ON THEN,’ he said, ‘FINISH ME!’
Marshal was eyeing his curiously. He inspected the wounds he had just inflicted. The giant’s chest was practically ripped – the cuts were messy and deep. He might even have a few severed muscles, but Marshal couldn’t be sure. He was sure, however, that Jessy cannot stand up, let alone fight, in this state.
‘I have no reason to kill you,’ he said, ‘just leave me alone already.’
Then he walked away, lighting another smoke and cursing the absence of liquor around.

‘What is that thing?’ Ann was trying to shout thru the harsh winds.
‘That’s my cargo,’ Kara replied.
‘I thought the cargo went in space,’ Owen said.
‘Same here,’ Kara agreed, ‘Guess we were wrong about that.’
The three of them were standing in front of a big container in the middle of nowhere, namely, the desert. It had no apparent locks, or doors for that matter, only a small screen and the emblem of Hydra – a seven-headed dragon with horns and crowns.
‘Do we open it?’ the ferret inquired.
Kara shrugged.
‘Why the hell not? We are probably already on Hydra’s wanted list.’
‘Say what?’ Ann joined in, ‘Wanted list?’
Her companions nodded but didn’t bother to explain.
‘So how do we open it?’ Owen was shouting.
The redhead got closer to the container, scanning for an input console of some sorts. Apart from the small screen, there was nothing else.
‘No idea,’ she concluded.
PLEASE INPUT CORRECT PASSWORD, an electronic voice said.
‘Isn’t that--’
Kara nodded.
‘It’s the A.S.S. I never thought Hydra would use such a broken system.’ She tapped on the screen.
PLEASE INPUT CORRECT PASSWORD repeated the electronic voice.
‘Voice-activated,’ the engineer said, ‘anyone know any good passwords?’
‘Cupcakes?’ Ann ventured, ignoring the thought she may be in way over her head. Hydra were powerful and the witch sensed she’d have a hard time not running away from her friends.
‘Sandwich?’ Owen said in turn.
‘PASS word, as in a word that lets you pass,’ Kara snapped, ‘Okay, I got this then,’ then turned towards the screen, ‘I hope this works. Initiate protocol “passwords override”, code 1025.’
‘Wasn’t that the disaster code?’ the ferret asked.
‘It’s the everything code.’
‘Are you sure you want to open it?’ Ann asked cautiously, ‘It may be dangerous.’
‘Of course it is,’ Kara replied, ‘it’s Hydra property.’
CODE ACCEPTED. OVERRIDE PROTOCOL IN MOTION. PLEASE STAND BY.
‘It was that easy?’ Owen was surprised, ‘shouldn’t they have better security than that?’
Kara nodded affirmatively.
‘It’s a good security system, save for a few glitches,’ she explained, ‘and a couple of backdoors,’ she clasped her head, scratching it, and smiled, ‘I know it doesn’t sound like much of a security, but codes are usually changed daily. 1025 was just the code of the day.’
The rumbling of the mechanism keeping this side of the container shut rumbled and cracked. An intense puffing was heard, some steam blew out and the metal plate serving as a container wall started slowly sliding upwards. Kara kneeled, curious to see the contents before the lid was all the way up, and leaned forward. She usually didn’t take any interest in the cargo she was smuggling, partly because of safety reasons – she could always pledge she was tricked if she got caught – partly because she couldn’t care less. Hydra had business in almost every aspect imaginable so the cargo could vary from WMD to cupcakes and biscuits. The less she knew, the better. She did have moments of conscience in the past and debated heavily on whether or not she should keep doing the smuggling thing, but there wasn’t anything else she could do. She was a gifted engineer, but her designs were unusual, frantic or sometimes plain insane, so she couldn’t find a proper job. On top of that, the Alpha system machine shop required a certificate of expertise and personal experience in the job. She had the latter, but they would have to take her word for it. People in Omega system were quite more liberal, but after the third explosion she earned an unofficial ban from the professional scene. She would still take personal requests here and there, but they hardly paid enough for her to make a living. Smuggling looked like the best option at the time.
Now she would have to reconsider the whole deal. Hydra would definitely put a bounty on her head – the bastards really insisted on receiving their stock no matter what happened to the supplier. Each cargo container usually had a transmitter attached to it, in case it got lost. She had already checked the gadget on this container and saw it was badly damaged. Nonetheless, Hydra already had a basic notion as to where it was headed and were on their way, if they weren’t here already.
With this in mind, she had to speed up things. She had to acquire a new ship, dump the container somewhere and bolt as soon as possible. And for the first time she really hope her employers didn’t have her transport biscuits.
They heard a loud and decisive click as the lid halted and locked into place. What they saw raised her eyebrows. Inside this big box was just a little sphere, secured with several rods to keep it from moving about during transport. Inside the transparent sphere there was dark smoke, moving around with the grace of the wind and the speed of a retarded snail.
‘What is it, Kara?’ the ferret couldn’t quite see the contents.
‘I’m not sure,’ she said, extending her hand forward, ‘I’ll have to get back to you on that.’
Her fingers touched the crystal clear ball. It was cold to the touch and the redhead felt a chill breeze flowing thru her body. It wasn’t dark yet and the harsh winds had stopped, giving their place to the scorching sun. Ann had explained the phenomenon earlier – just before dark, the sun is at its strongest peak, then just shuts down all of a sudden. No, the cold was definitely coming from the sphere. Kara grabbed it and tried to yank it out of its socket.
A crackle followed as the glass first cracked, then shattered, releasing the black smoke. Kara rose quickly and took a few steps back, startled. The gas maundered about for a moment and then shot straight for Kara. She couldn’t react in time and the darkness hit her head-on, flinging her back. The sand and dust rose as the redhead fell on the ground.
Once the dust settled, the smoke was gone. Owen and Ann saw their unofficial leader lying on the soft sandy cover, unconscious.