MeanGreenStreak: Heard you were having a bad day, Frankie.
IDoNotHaveAChickenHead: Ah, hello, Jhudora.
MeanGreenStreak: So wassup, eh? What's got your evil plans tied into a knot
today?
IDoNotHaveAChickenHead: Bloody junior officers.
MeanGreenStreak: Uh-oh. This can't be happy.
IDoNotHaveAChickenHead: *holds face* Yeah. You remember those projects I
was doing, determining the effect of Dark Faerie magic on various pets and
PetPets?
MeanGreenStreak: Oh yeah. I was funding that project, wasn't I?
IDoNotHaveAChickenHead: Yes, and you also supplied the magic.
MeanGreenStreak: *laughs like her kawaii evil self* Marvelous. What
happened?
IDoNotHaveAChickenHead: Eww, eww, eww. Someone screwed up royally and a
whole bunch of the subjects managed to escape. One Felly who got a high
dose of concentrated evil seems to have developed an extreme intelligence
and a taste for evil. I would make it a top officer, were its cohorts not
making a mess of my space station.
MeanGreenStreak: *cringes* Yowch! Like, how?
IDoNotHaveAChickenHead: The reptilian pets seemed to have taken the most
effects. They've all learned Drain Life and are going around sucking the
health out of all my men. I wish I'd thought of that. It's such a great
plan! But no. Maybe I can capture these mutant creatures and set them loose
on Neopia.
MeanGreenStreak: Haha! You go, Frankie.
Beyowop.
"Hey, what gives?" Jhudora pounded on the monitor of her computer screen. Her instant messenger window had chosen to go AWOL on her at the exact moment a pop-up ad for Itchy Scratchy cream bleeped into her surfing. She snarled and clicked the blue X in the advert's top-right corner. She eyed her plum-colored navigation bar for a trace of where her little chat might have gone, but saw only the tags for her NeoNet 9.0 service, her media player(Playing her favorite song-"Paint It Purple" by the Sticks 'N' Stones), and her buddy list. She restored the third where it had stood minimized, but unfortunately saw that Sloth had gone offline.
Actually, had she been able to look inside the VirtuPets Space Station at that moment, she would have found everything offline.
Dr. Frank S. Sloth's ugly, bioluminescent red eyes slowly blinked inside of the sudden black that had descended there. Through his mind ran a stream of words that would likely get him frozen if they ever escaped his lips. He felt his swivel chair beneath him... his hands still curved over the keys on his terminal... his feet were still covered in their fluffy Cybunny slippers. But honest to Faerie Queen, he could not see a thing. The gentle humming of his computer had been replaced with a truly chilly rake of mutant claws on metal, only barely managing to disguise a voice that hissed that it "Must... suck... life..."
This really couldn't go on for much longer.
Three days. Three really ugly days. That was how long it had been since Querthy, or whatever that ensign's name had been before he had been Sludged, had let the locks slip. And three days Sloth had had to live over his shoulder, always on the lookout for one of those slimy monsters he'd created. He'd finally resorted to holing himself up here, in the main computer room, with enough food and water to last him a week. Hopefully he'd get help by then. Assuming somewhere in Neopia there was a person so loving and tender and good for all the world that they'd help public enemy number 1.
He thanked the heavens for his Internet connection, as it looked to be his only salvation. Before it had all blacked out, he'd managed to post a desperate plea on a message board and a few other well-visited stations of the Web begging for someone to help. It had been simple: "Mutant Scorchios. Evil Felly. Need to beat. Need to save space station. Will pay. Big NP. Contact Frank Sloth at drsloth@virtupets.neo."
He thought he'd be able to find a way out of this blasted situation. Now that his only link to the outside world had fallen, he'd fallen too.
Now, if there wasn't a monster outside of his door right now, he'd saunter off downstairs and flip the auxiliary power on. The station's engines wouldn't work on auxiliary, but not like he ever moved it. All computers would be operational, and he'd be one step out of this predicament. He'd already received two offers on his ads, one from a man who'd declined when he discovered that his employer would be green and scaly and the other from a charming young gent who seemed edgy about technology. Still, they were possible assets.
His chair jumped a few feet off the ground when an explosion rocked the lower decks. The alert sirens, which always ran on the extra electricity source, wailed as they spat their red light and formal computerized voice. "Hull breech on the Second Deck. Hull breech on the Second Deck. Evacuate second deck."
Too exasperated to be panicked, Dr. Sloth blew a drooping hair away from his face.
*~*~*
Mutant Scorchios. Evil Felly. Need to beat. Need to save space station. Will pay. Big NP. Contact Frank Sloth at drsloth@virtupets.neo.
She licked her lips, still a bit unused to the feeling of a pair of glistening fangs there. What was a Scorchio? Why was one mutated? And how could something called a Felly be evil? Well, the words "save space station" were in there. Yeah, she'd done that before-sort of, is saving included utterly destroying. Most recently, actually. Which would account for her red eyes, spined tail, underdeveloped wings and claws. Not to mention the occasional patch of scales. Ah, those itched. Still, she thought her hair looked good tipped in red, allergy to ice could pass for exotic and most people dug the "third-dragon-third-energy-leeching-organism- third-human" look anyway.
She wanted to put together some pithy words for this e-mail. Something that said "Hey, I'm always friendly and willing to help" at the same time as it said "I'm the one they call when things go wrong." Something that warned this guy not to pull any funny stuff, especially when he learned that he was employing a woman. Most people got over that quick though. And even if she had, hey, jerks were easy enough to ice. Literally.
Inspiration struck her. The sound of her long claws tapping the keyboard echoed inside the confines of her room.
To: drsloth@virtupets.neo From: saran@federation.cos Subject: I'm always friendly and willing to help, I'm the one they call when things go wrong.
Hey:
Was browsing the HQ's message board when I saw your desperate distress signal. So you've got a giant space station in trouble and you're willing to pay big. Well, like they say here, "You can set anything right with the right amount of cash and Sammy here." I don't, unfortunately, understand what you mean by mutant Scorchios or an evil Felly, but do explain and I'll bet you'll make yourself a really quick friend. So tell me just what your situation is, tell me how much you're gonna pay, and how I get to your station. How's that, eh?
Best Regards, Sam
P.S.: Don't call me Sammy in real life. I'm not big on pet names, if you know what I mean?
Perfect. Her hands left the "?" on an accomplished stroke. She clicked the little gray "Send" button, and the message was on its way to be delivered to the mysterious-Dr. Sloth, she guessed she'd call him. The name stuck brief bells. She remembered once having a discussion with a few of her commanding officers over a backwaters planet called Neopia, and she recalled the name Sloth appearing in regards. They were trying to decide whether or not to intervene in some crisis they were going through. they'd chosen not to.
In any case, if this was the same Dr. Sloth they'd talked about over brunch in that office, so long ago, it wasn't all bad. From the pictures she'd seen of the place, Neopia was a pretty little planet. It would be nice to visit it, and get away from those ugly ones she'd seen so much of lately.
*~*~*
Dr. Sloth woke from his drooling slouch at the computer to find the fluorescent lights overhead brimming with energy. A NeoTrak officer must have either activated the auxiliary, or fixed the power grid the mutants had damaged. He was still open to the NeoNet. Funny, he would think after a forced reboot the computer would have reverted back to his desktop. But this fancy model had a store of little lithium batteries that kept it from ever really shutting down, and they were easy to replace before the computer had used up its entire supply. Or maybe he was just lucky.
He closed the new mail he'd accidentally opened, which was a lively message made out to Mr. "JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ." The conversation was juicy from its first sentence, which began, "HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGJJJJJJJJJJJJJJKKKKKKK."
Apparently nothing new in his inbox since last night. Three mails telling him he had unclaimed NeoPoints waiting for him out in the sea of Neopia, five advertising various crockery, two about a recently formed online dating service and. hello, what was this?
Sally Do we owe you money? Lotsa Cash $WIN$ Baby Paintbrush Now! Angelpuss Frank, do you want to find that SPECIAL SOMEONE? saran@. I'm always friendly and willing to help, I'm the one they call.
Faerie Yes SALE on Fungus Furniture!
Dr. Sloth clicked eagerly on this interesting new mail that had arrived. He scanned the contents with interest. And took a brief chuckle at the name of the person who had sent him the offer. Heh hee, saran. This was Saran's rap! Ah, the joy of truly awful puns. He wiped a small tear from his eye. His mirth was not long-he saw the mailer's true name to be Sam. Well, Sam, he thought, I'll lay out my end of the bargain.
I'm sure you know what a dragon is, Sam. Right? Well, picture a couple of dragons with a couple extra limbs, some grotesque features here and there and the ability to steal the health from anyone who wanders near. Great, you get the picture! My station's full of those sort of things right now, and a couple of other mutants, I'm sure. A Felly is a little floating clear thing with tentacles. Normally dumb, but this one's super-smart, and apparently wants to run my space station over. As for your payment, it's 250,000 NeoPoints up front and 250,000 again if you pull through. As for the station. it's constantly in orbit around Neopia. Can you comprehend, Sam?
Yours, Frank
*~*~*
And it was déjà vu all over again. Her tail twitched in anticipation. A league of life-looting spined vermin lead by a living jelly. Two past exploits all conveniently rolled into one. She was eager to see some new action, now that HQ had finally managed to totally repair her suit. Back to its old, somewhat tacky-looking orange glory. Not that she didn't like blue, but honey, the colors of fire fitted her attitude far better. And to be honest, the other outfit looked like it was made out of rubber.
Gotcha. I'm hired. I'll come over soon as I possibly can, hopefully by tomorrow.
Sam
So Neopia was involved, then. While she watched her mail zoom off to this Mr. Frank Sloth, she pressed a small button by the monitor of her computer. The wire leading away from it connected with that of her microphone. "Joe. Wheedle me in with Adam. I know he's here in the station, I know he's alive, don't play games with me."
"Who should I say is calling him?" the man operating all of THIS space station's page lines asked her.
"An old friend by the name of Samus Aran," she grinned as she said. "He'll know who I am."
"Please hold." There was a click and a static buzz.
"Samus! It has indeed been quite a while since we've talked. What do you need?"
"First an explanation. You old codger; why'd you go pretending you were dead like that?"
"I didn't want you coming after me! I knew you would if you knew I lived. I know that you loved me like a father and would do anything to save me, but you know as well as I the dangers there would've been. Can you forgive me?"
The man had a gentle voice, haggard and just beyond middle age. His crinkled smile came through even when it came out of her computer's speakers. Ah, Adam. a sweeter fellow she'd never know, and no one had ever treated her with more dignity. Someone who could really appreciate a woman bounty hunter. But there was no time for sweet sentiments today. "Apology accepted. So, Adam, sir. What do we have on a 'Neopia?'"
"Nee-oh-pee-ah." He tasted the word delicately. "About two years ago, that was the one that had the evil overlord problem, wasn't it?"
"Not sure, sir. We chose not to jump into that one, remember?"
"Indeed." He paused to think for a moment. "Well, if I remember. it's a planet just on the outer reaches of this galaxy. It has a population of around fifty million human residents and seventy million. uh, other." He might have been mopping his brow in that second. "The entire planet uses a currency called NeoPoints, except for a few small islands. The terrain and life forms are highly varied, ranging from avians to aquatic creatures to terrestrial beings, over landscapes ranging from snowy mountains to humid jungles and torched desert. Their patron saints are creatures called Faeries. They live in, appropriately enough, a cloud-based city called Faerieland. Also, several areas of Neopia are affected by strange time warps that jerk those who enter them far back in time."
"What's the exchange rate for our Credits to their NeoPoints?"
"Approximately .01 to the credit, if my information is up to date."
Now there was a lot of money she could potentially be raking in. One NeoPoint was 100 Credits. 50 million credits. well, she claimed she was a bounty hunter because she loved the work, but the high salary was a definite plus at times. "Mmm. Do we have anyone in our force who's a Neopian expert?"
"Only our ambassadors. A Shadow Lenny and a Blue Mynci."
"Wuh?"
"Sorry." Adam apologized for his use of potentially confusing jargon. "They're Neopian creatures. They're identified by color as well as species. A Lenny is essentially a long lanky bird creature, and this one is Shadow, or black. A Mynci is a little monkey. Ours is Blue, or, well-you know! Blue!"
"Could they come with me?"
"Planning a joy ride, are you?" He laughed. "If they oblige, I'll send them off with you. I'm sure they'll be delighted to know that they'll be getting to see their home planet again."
"Yeah," Samus chuckled, "but I'm sure anyone would be slightly deterred at having to share their ride with a monster."
*~*~* "G'orph!"
That was going to hurt in the morning. Claust rubbed his head with one light blue paw and his curled tail with the other, full of kinks that had not been there to begin with. The ship rocked back in the other direction with a jerk, and he fell ungainly backwards into a crate full of metal spheres that made uneasy clicking sounds.
"I thought in space-oomph-you were weightless and floated?"
"No, this is a hi-tech ship, remember? Gravity generators," his partner Tanka corrected him. She flapped in the middle of the room, shimmering black wings a blur as she fought the tottering movement of the craft.
"Miss Aran!" Her beak clacked as she turned her head to gaze toward the cockpit. "For the sake of my partner, could you drive just a little slower?"
"Sorry, but we're on a schedule," answered Samus with half-genuine remorse. "I said I'd make it by tomorrow morning, and I always keep a promise."
"Just where are we trying to make it to?" Claust fiddled with the small plasma gun that was in his holster. It wasn't the Asparagus Powered Ray Gun he was used to, but he'd have to make do with non-Neopian weapons away from home. "All you said was that you wanted us along as guides, so we figure it's somewhere in the general area of Neopia, but since you've been mum about everything-"
"Mutant Scorchios, an evil Felly, and something about a Space Station. I don't know! It's your planet. You make sense of it all!"
"The only station I know of is the VirtuPets Space Station, but that's the bad guy's place," trembled Tanka. "Mutant Scorchios? And an evil Felly? Did Fyora hire you for this?"
"I really have no clue who hired me. His name's 'Frank.' Might be short for Francis, I don't know. I didn't get much of a briefing. But I'm getting paid a cool 50 million for this, so I'm not complaining."
"Frank? That's Dr. Sloth's first name!" Claust was agape.
"Yeah, the words 'Dr. Sloth' were in his e-mail address. So? The guy's a doctor. How bad could it be?"
Tanka held her wings up to her frowning beak. "But. he's an evil doctor! He does. bad experiments! On poor innocent NeoPets like us! And. even PetPets, too! He turns things to sludge and creates horrible mutations, and he wants to take over the world!"
Samus pondered this for a moment. "Well, I dunno about taking over the world. But come on! Aside from the fact that he's a megalomaniac, the same sort of stuff went on back at BSL before it crashed. They performed experiments on various creatures and did genetic engineering. Heck, if it weren't for their experiments, I'd be dead! How is that so different?"
"BSL did it for the good of science," mumbled Claust. "Dr. Sloth does it for the good of no one but himself."
Sam sighed. If she hadn't been wearing her helmet at the time, she would have tugged on her hair. NeoPets. She didn't know anything about them, and yet these two that she knew already irritated her. She really hoped it was just them. She'd been lacking in a permanent residence long enough that "homesickness" was a foreign word to her, but apparently these guys still pined for the sloping peaks and rolling plains-or whatever-of their home planet. Maybe once they got there, they'd be less irritable.
"Warning! Warning. Large unidentified object appearing on radar. Large unidentified object appearing on radar."
The computer onboard the ship had a high, tinny female voice that gnawed on her nerve ends. Why did it feel the need to repeat itself twice every time there was even the slightest hiccup? Claust thought darkly near the back, maybe it could threaten to call an intergalactic police officer when she started driving crazily.
"Computer! Gimmie a readout."
The ship wasn't programmed for sarcasm, but the electronic monotone it possessed could be perhaps considered a deeper insult. "Object unidentified. No readout available." Stupid; was the suffix the irked blue Mynci mentally tacked on to it.
"Size at least?"
"Object would be classified as a large asteroid if its density were close to that of iron. However, density of the object does not equal that of iron."
Samus didn't appear surprised. In her line of work, all manner of space junk could be found that didn't fit the classification of your typical meteor. Still, it couldn't prepare her for the answer the machine gave her. "What does it appear to be made of?"
"Substance unclassifiable. It is green, translucent, and contains high concentration levels of organic polymers and citric acid."
"By Faeries, that sounds like a lump of lime jelly!"
Tanka flittered over to the window to peer outside, spotting off in a distance a frozen hunk of chartreuse gelatin. Lit from the back by a nearing star, it shone like an amazing cosmic peridot as it eclipsed the brilliant yellow sun.
Claust rushed up next to his feathered comrade and stood on the tips of his toes to get a glimpse of the surreal sight. The sharp little claws on his forepaws left an indention in the metal. "Great galloping Grarrls!" he exclaimed. "It is a lump of lime jelly!"
"I feel like an extra in a Salvador Dali painting," moaned the armored bounty hunter. She had her plasma screen hovering before her, getting a close-up on the wobbly block of unusual ice. There was no doubt that, at one time, it had indeed been a edible desert. How it had gotten up into space was beyond her sane conception.
"We're getting closer to Neopia!" Tanka laughed with a joyous squawk. "That's no asteroid, it's Jelloilous, one of Neopia's moons."
"I'm afraid to ask what the others are," Samus bit her lower lip inside her helmet.
"Jelloilous, Cliferdious, Moutenai, and Terragra. It's a beautiful sight, on Quadruple Full-Moon Night," Tanka sighed. Quadruple Full-Moon Nights-and the feasting and parties that always accompanied them-were one of the things she missed most about not being on Neopia. "What sort of things do you miss about your home?" she asked, like the endearing host of some peculiar childrens' show.
"Few things enough that I don't mind being away from it."
Tanka acted miffed. Claust suddenly jumped, vaulting himself up with the help of the windowsill. "Hey! Dead ahead! Look at that!"
---What did Claust see? Cliffhanger until later, when I type more!---
Beyowop.
"Hey, what gives?" Jhudora pounded on the monitor of her computer screen. Her instant messenger window had chosen to go AWOL on her at the exact moment a pop-up ad for Itchy Scratchy cream bleeped into her surfing. She snarled and clicked the blue X in the advert's top-right corner. She eyed her plum-colored navigation bar for a trace of where her little chat might have gone, but saw only the tags for her NeoNet 9.0 service, her media player(Playing her favorite song-"Paint It Purple" by the Sticks 'N' Stones), and her buddy list. She restored the third where it had stood minimized, but unfortunately saw that Sloth had gone offline.
Actually, had she been able to look inside the VirtuPets Space Station at that moment, she would have found everything offline.
Dr. Frank S. Sloth's ugly, bioluminescent red eyes slowly blinked inside of the sudden black that had descended there. Through his mind ran a stream of words that would likely get him frozen if they ever escaped his lips. He felt his swivel chair beneath him... his hands still curved over the keys on his terminal... his feet were still covered in their fluffy Cybunny slippers. But honest to Faerie Queen, he could not see a thing. The gentle humming of his computer had been replaced with a truly chilly rake of mutant claws on metal, only barely managing to disguise a voice that hissed that it "Must... suck... life..."
This really couldn't go on for much longer.
Three days. Three really ugly days. That was how long it had been since Querthy, or whatever that ensign's name had been before he had been Sludged, had let the locks slip. And three days Sloth had had to live over his shoulder, always on the lookout for one of those slimy monsters he'd created. He'd finally resorted to holing himself up here, in the main computer room, with enough food and water to last him a week. Hopefully he'd get help by then. Assuming somewhere in Neopia there was a person so loving and tender and good for all the world that they'd help public enemy number 1.
He thanked the heavens for his Internet connection, as it looked to be his only salvation. Before it had all blacked out, he'd managed to post a desperate plea on a message board and a few other well-visited stations of the Web begging for someone to help. It had been simple: "Mutant Scorchios. Evil Felly. Need to beat. Need to save space station. Will pay. Big NP. Contact Frank Sloth at drsloth@virtupets.neo."
He thought he'd be able to find a way out of this blasted situation. Now that his only link to the outside world had fallen, he'd fallen too.
Now, if there wasn't a monster outside of his door right now, he'd saunter off downstairs and flip the auxiliary power on. The station's engines wouldn't work on auxiliary, but not like he ever moved it. All computers would be operational, and he'd be one step out of this predicament. He'd already received two offers on his ads, one from a man who'd declined when he discovered that his employer would be green and scaly and the other from a charming young gent who seemed edgy about technology. Still, they were possible assets.
His chair jumped a few feet off the ground when an explosion rocked the lower decks. The alert sirens, which always ran on the extra electricity source, wailed as they spat their red light and formal computerized voice. "Hull breech on the Second Deck. Hull breech on the Second Deck. Evacuate second deck."
Too exasperated to be panicked, Dr. Sloth blew a drooping hair away from his face.
*~*~*
Mutant Scorchios. Evil Felly. Need to beat. Need to save space station. Will pay. Big NP. Contact Frank Sloth at drsloth@virtupets.neo.
She licked her lips, still a bit unused to the feeling of a pair of glistening fangs there. What was a Scorchio? Why was one mutated? And how could something called a Felly be evil? Well, the words "save space station" were in there. Yeah, she'd done that before-sort of, is saving included utterly destroying. Most recently, actually. Which would account for her red eyes, spined tail, underdeveloped wings and claws. Not to mention the occasional patch of scales. Ah, those itched. Still, she thought her hair looked good tipped in red, allergy to ice could pass for exotic and most people dug the "third-dragon-third-energy-leeching-organism- third-human" look anyway.
She wanted to put together some pithy words for this e-mail. Something that said "Hey, I'm always friendly and willing to help" at the same time as it said "I'm the one they call when things go wrong." Something that warned this guy not to pull any funny stuff, especially when he learned that he was employing a woman. Most people got over that quick though. And even if she had, hey, jerks were easy enough to ice. Literally.
Inspiration struck her. The sound of her long claws tapping the keyboard echoed inside the confines of her room.
To: drsloth@virtupets.neo From: saran@federation.cos Subject: I'm always friendly and willing to help, I'm the one they call when things go wrong.
Hey:
Was browsing the HQ's message board when I saw your desperate distress signal. So you've got a giant space station in trouble and you're willing to pay big. Well, like they say here, "You can set anything right with the right amount of cash and Sammy here." I don't, unfortunately, understand what you mean by mutant Scorchios or an evil Felly, but do explain and I'll bet you'll make yourself a really quick friend. So tell me just what your situation is, tell me how much you're gonna pay, and how I get to your station. How's that, eh?
Best Regards, Sam
P.S.: Don't call me Sammy in real life. I'm not big on pet names, if you know what I mean?
Perfect. Her hands left the "?" on an accomplished stroke. She clicked the little gray "Send" button, and the message was on its way to be delivered to the mysterious-Dr. Sloth, she guessed she'd call him. The name stuck brief bells. She remembered once having a discussion with a few of her commanding officers over a backwaters planet called Neopia, and she recalled the name Sloth appearing in regards. They were trying to decide whether or not to intervene in some crisis they were going through. they'd chosen not to.
In any case, if this was the same Dr. Sloth they'd talked about over brunch in that office, so long ago, it wasn't all bad. From the pictures she'd seen of the place, Neopia was a pretty little planet. It would be nice to visit it, and get away from those ugly ones she'd seen so much of lately.
*~*~*
Dr. Sloth woke from his drooling slouch at the computer to find the fluorescent lights overhead brimming with energy. A NeoTrak officer must have either activated the auxiliary, or fixed the power grid the mutants had damaged. He was still open to the NeoNet. Funny, he would think after a forced reboot the computer would have reverted back to his desktop. But this fancy model had a store of little lithium batteries that kept it from ever really shutting down, and they were easy to replace before the computer had used up its entire supply. Or maybe he was just lucky.
He closed the new mail he'd accidentally opened, which was a lively message made out to Mr. "JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ." The conversation was juicy from its first sentence, which began, "HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGJJJJJJJJJJJJJJKKKKKKK."
Apparently nothing new in his inbox since last night. Three mails telling him he had unclaimed NeoPoints waiting for him out in the sea of Neopia, five advertising various crockery, two about a recently formed online dating service and. hello, what was this?
Sally Do we owe you money? Lotsa Cash $WIN$ Baby Paintbrush Now! Angelpuss Frank, do you want to find that SPECIAL SOMEONE? saran@. I'm always friendly and willing to help, I'm the one they call.
Faerie Yes SALE on Fungus Furniture!
Dr. Sloth clicked eagerly on this interesting new mail that had arrived. He scanned the contents with interest. And took a brief chuckle at the name of the person who had sent him the offer. Heh hee, saran. This was Saran's rap! Ah, the joy of truly awful puns. He wiped a small tear from his eye. His mirth was not long-he saw the mailer's true name to be Sam. Well, Sam, he thought, I'll lay out my end of the bargain.
I'm sure you know what a dragon is, Sam. Right? Well, picture a couple of dragons with a couple extra limbs, some grotesque features here and there and the ability to steal the health from anyone who wanders near. Great, you get the picture! My station's full of those sort of things right now, and a couple of other mutants, I'm sure. A Felly is a little floating clear thing with tentacles. Normally dumb, but this one's super-smart, and apparently wants to run my space station over. As for your payment, it's 250,000 NeoPoints up front and 250,000 again if you pull through. As for the station. it's constantly in orbit around Neopia. Can you comprehend, Sam?
Yours, Frank
*~*~*
And it was déjà vu all over again. Her tail twitched in anticipation. A league of life-looting spined vermin lead by a living jelly. Two past exploits all conveniently rolled into one. She was eager to see some new action, now that HQ had finally managed to totally repair her suit. Back to its old, somewhat tacky-looking orange glory. Not that she didn't like blue, but honey, the colors of fire fitted her attitude far better. And to be honest, the other outfit looked like it was made out of rubber.
Gotcha. I'm hired. I'll come over soon as I possibly can, hopefully by tomorrow.
Sam
So Neopia was involved, then. While she watched her mail zoom off to this Mr. Frank Sloth, she pressed a small button by the monitor of her computer. The wire leading away from it connected with that of her microphone. "Joe. Wheedle me in with Adam. I know he's here in the station, I know he's alive, don't play games with me."
"Who should I say is calling him?" the man operating all of THIS space station's page lines asked her.
"An old friend by the name of Samus Aran," she grinned as she said. "He'll know who I am."
"Please hold." There was a click and a static buzz.
"Samus! It has indeed been quite a while since we've talked. What do you need?"
"First an explanation. You old codger; why'd you go pretending you were dead like that?"
"I didn't want you coming after me! I knew you would if you knew I lived. I know that you loved me like a father and would do anything to save me, but you know as well as I the dangers there would've been. Can you forgive me?"
The man had a gentle voice, haggard and just beyond middle age. His crinkled smile came through even when it came out of her computer's speakers. Ah, Adam. a sweeter fellow she'd never know, and no one had ever treated her with more dignity. Someone who could really appreciate a woman bounty hunter. But there was no time for sweet sentiments today. "Apology accepted. So, Adam, sir. What do we have on a 'Neopia?'"
"Nee-oh-pee-ah." He tasted the word delicately. "About two years ago, that was the one that had the evil overlord problem, wasn't it?"
"Not sure, sir. We chose not to jump into that one, remember?"
"Indeed." He paused to think for a moment. "Well, if I remember. it's a planet just on the outer reaches of this galaxy. It has a population of around fifty million human residents and seventy million. uh, other." He might have been mopping his brow in that second. "The entire planet uses a currency called NeoPoints, except for a few small islands. The terrain and life forms are highly varied, ranging from avians to aquatic creatures to terrestrial beings, over landscapes ranging from snowy mountains to humid jungles and torched desert. Their patron saints are creatures called Faeries. They live in, appropriately enough, a cloud-based city called Faerieland. Also, several areas of Neopia are affected by strange time warps that jerk those who enter them far back in time."
"What's the exchange rate for our Credits to their NeoPoints?"
"Approximately .01 to the credit, if my information is up to date."
Now there was a lot of money she could potentially be raking in. One NeoPoint was 100 Credits. 50 million credits. well, she claimed she was a bounty hunter because she loved the work, but the high salary was a definite plus at times. "Mmm. Do we have anyone in our force who's a Neopian expert?"
"Only our ambassadors. A Shadow Lenny and a Blue Mynci."
"Wuh?"
"Sorry." Adam apologized for his use of potentially confusing jargon. "They're Neopian creatures. They're identified by color as well as species. A Lenny is essentially a long lanky bird creature, and this one is Shadow, or black. A Mynci is a little monkey. Ours is Blue, or, well-you know! Blue!"
"Could they come with me?"
"Planning a joy ride, are you?" He laughed. "If they oblige, I'll send them off with you. I'm sure they'll be delighted to know that they'll be getting to see their home planet again."
"Yeah," Samus chuckled, "but I'm sure anyone would be slightly deterred at having to share their ride with a monster."
*~*~* "G'orph!"
That was going to hurt in the morning. Claust rubbed his head with one light blue paw and his curled tail with the other, full of kinks that had not been there to begin with. The ship rocked back in the other direction with a jerk, and he fell ungainly backwards into a crate full of metal spheres that made uneasy clicking sounds.
"I thought in space-oomph-you were weightless and floated?"
"No, this is a hi-tech ship, remember? Gravity generators," his partner Tanka corrected him. She flapped in the middle of the room, shimmering black wings a blur as she fought the tottering movement of the craft.
"Miss Aran!" Her beak clacked as she turned her head to gaze toward the cockpit. "For the sake of my partner, could you drive just a little slower?"
"Sorry, but we're on a schedule," answered Samus with half-genuine remorse. "I said I'd make it by tomorrow morning, and I always keep a promise."
"Just where are we trying to make it to?" Claust fiddled with the small plasma gun that was in his holster. It wasn't the Asparagus Powered Ray Gun he was used to, but he'd have to make do with non-Neopian weapons away from home. "All you said was that you wanted us along as guides, so we figure it's somewhere in the general area of Neopia, but since you've been mum about everything-"
"Mutant Scorchios, an evil Felly, and something about a Space Station. I don't know! It's your planet. You make sense of it all!"
"The only station I know of is the VirtuPets Space Station, but that's the bad guy's place," trembled Tanka. "Mutant Scorchios? And an evil Felly? Did Fyora hire you for this?"
"I really have no clue who hired me. His name's 'Frank.' Might be short for Francis, I don't know. I didn't get much of a briefing. But I'm getting paid a cool 50 million for this, so I'm not complaining."
"Frank? That's Dr. Sloth's first name!" Claust was agape.
"Yeah, the words 'Dr. Sloth' were in his e-mail address. So? The guy's a doctor. How bad could it be?"
Tanka held her wings up to her frowning beak. "But. he's an evil doctor! He does. bad experiments! On poor innocent NeoPets like us! And. even PetPets, too! He turns things to sludge and creates horrible mutations, and he wants to take over the world!"
Samus pondered this for a moment. "Well, I dunno about taking over the world. But come on! Aside from the fact that he's a megalomaniac, the same sort of stuff went on back at BSL before it crashed. They performed experiments on various creatures and did genetic engineering. Heck, if it weren't for their experiments, I'd be dead! How is that so different?"
"BSL did it for the good of science," mumbled Claust. "Dr. Sloth does it for the good of no one but himself."
Sam sighed. If she hadn't been wearing her helmet at the time, she would have tugged on her hair. NeoPets. She didn't know anything about them, and yet these two that she knew already irritated her. She really hoped it was just them. She'd been lacking in a permanent residence long enough that "homesickness" was a foreign word to her, but apparently these guys still pined for the sloping peaks and rolling plains-or whatever-of their home planet. Maybe once they got there, they'd be less irritable.
"Warning! Warning. Large unidentified object appearing on radar. Large unidentified object appearing on radar."
The computer onboard the ship had a high, tinny female voice that gnawed on her nerve ends. Why did it feel the need to repeat itself twice every time there was even the slightest hiccup? Claust thought darkly near the back, maybe it could threaten to call an intergalactic police officer when she started driving crazily.
"Computer! Gimmie a readout."
The ship wasn't programmed for sarcasm, but the electronic monotone it possessed could be perhaps considered a deeper insult. "Object unidentified. No readout available." Stupid; was the suffix the irked blue Mynci mentally tacked on to it.
"Size at least?"
"Object would be classified as a large asteroid if its density were close to that of iron. However, density of the object does not equal that of iron."
Samus didn't appear surprised. In her line of work, all manner of space junk could be found that didn't fit the classification of your typical meteor. Still, it couldn't prepare her for the answer the machine gave her. "What does it appear to be made of?"
"Substance unclassifiable. It is green, translucent, and contains high concentration levels of organic polymers and citric acid."
"By Faeries, that sounds like a lump of lime jelly!"
Tanka flittered over to the window to peer outside, spotting off in a distance a frozen hunk of chartreuse gelatin. Lit from the back by a nearing star, it shone like an amazing cosmic peridot as it eclipsed the brilliant yellow sun.
Claust rushed up next to his feathered comrade and stood on the tips of his toes to get a glimpse of the surreal sight. The sharp little claws on his forepaws left an indention in the metal. "Great galloping Grarrls!" he exclaimed. "It is a lump of lime jelly!"
"I feel like an extra in a Salvador Dali painting," moaned the armored bounty hunter. She had her plasma screen hovering before her, getting a close-up on the wobbly block of unusual ice. There was no doubt that, at one time, it had indeed been a edible desert. How it had gotten up into space was beyond her sane conception.
"We're getting closer to Neopia!" Tanka laughed with a joyous squawk. "That's no asteroid, it's Jelloilous, one of Neopia's moons."
"I'm afraid to ask what the others are," Samus bit her lower lip inside her helmet.
"Jelloilous, Cliferdious, Moutenai, and Terragra. It's a beautiful sight, on Quadruple Full-Moon Night," Tanka sighed. Quadruple Full-Moon Nights-and the feasting and parties that always accompanied them-were one of the things she missed most about not being on Neopia. "What sort of things do you miss about your home?" she asked, like the endearing host of some peculiar childrens' show.
"Few things enough that I don't mind being away from it."
Tanka acted miffed. Claust suddenly jumped, vaulting himself up with the help of the windowsill. "Hey! Dead ahead! Look at that!"
---What did Claust see? Cliffhanger until later, when I type more!---