VT shifted uncomfortably on the ugly yellow couch. She lay with her hands folded behind her head and stared at the stationary ceiling fan. She had tried to sleep, tried to drift off in the precious solitude she had been granted once the bickering Coffee and Andy had each staked a claim to sleeping quarters. But it was proving impossible. Every time it seemed she might sink into sweet oblivion, some stray thought would snag on her conscious mind, keeping her buoyant just above the depths of sleep. Why had she agreed to let Andy on board? Why had she got herself mixed up with Coffee? Why had she bought the damn Bebop in the first place? The trucker prided herself on being the sort of person who didn't sweat over past decisions, yet suddenly she was stacking up regrets like a gambler hording poker chips.
"What is it with this old bucket?" she muttered to herself.
A mournful groan ran through the ship's hull, almost below the limit of hearing. The Bebop was shifting in her sleep as she rocked gently on the surface an Alva City marina. Or maybe she was haunted. It was certainly starting to feel that way.
"Ah, screw it," VT said. She levered herself up from the couch and made her way from the sitting room to the bridge, making a pit stop on the way to fill a plastic beaker with the bitter mud that dribbled from the coffee machine in the kitchen. A few minutes later, she was standing at the head of the bridge, looking out across the marina at the shadowed city beyond. The skyline, a thousand needle-sharp teeth biting into a pinking sky, stretched right the way across her field of view. Dawn was near, and in the growing light the still waters were a mottle of lead grey and pitch black.
It had taken until the wee hours of the morning, local time, to get the Bebop into her berth. Coffee had wasted the better part of an hour arguing with the police before conceding that the dead syndicate man's ship was now public property, and not hers to sell on, and almost as long again for the fuming bounty hunter to manoeuvre her ungainly zip craft into the hangar. She and Andy had then pissed away yet more precious minutes arguing over some dumb-ass thing or other while VT had struggled to negotiate landing clearance using the ship's half-crippled communication system.
Lo the electronics wiz had been no help. He'd been dead asleep on the gravity deck by the time the trio had boarded the ship, and as far VT could tell, had remained so throughout the landing process. Pretty impressive, seeing as how he must have been tossed around like the contents of a washing machine as the ship descended and found its berthing. But then again, the little guy would have been exhausted from what VT guessed was the most action he'd seen in his entire sheltered existence. Taking pity, the trucker had sought him out after landing and carried him like a sleeping child to the remaining unclaimed bed chamber where she'd dumped him unceremoniously on the bare cot within. And he still hadn't woken up.
VT caught a low rumble just at the limit of her hearing. She glanced over her shoulder to see Zeros sprawled on the display table, purring contentedly in his sleep.
VT let out a grunt of bitter laughter. "Show off."
She went back to watching the city through the thin veil of steam that rose from her coffee mug, staring intently at the shadowed buildings as if her next move might be spelled out in the tiny lights that were gradually winking out with the coming of daylight. Such was the depth of VT's exhausted reverie that pale Martian sunlight was pouring through the windows by the time she emerged to the sound footsteps.
"You make enough for two?" came a dry, scratchy voice.
VT looked down at her mug. The coffee was untouched, and from all appearances stone cold.
"You can have mine if you want it." VT turned to see Coffee standing at the rear of the bridge. The bounty hunter's hair and clothes were as perfect as they had been last night, but her face looked ready to slide right off the front of her head. "Not a morning person, huh?"
Coffee marched over. Without a word she plucked the beaker from VT's hand and began to quaff the tepid fluid. When she was done, she handed the mug back without thanks or complaint.
"Don't mention it," said VT as she looked down into the empty container.
Coffee looked out at the Marina. "Where the hell are we?" she asked, a little of the smoothness returning to her voice.
"Alva City," VT replied. "Y'know, same place we landed last night?"
"Alva City, right," said Coffee distantly.
VT's lip curled in a small smile. "Definitely not a morning person," she said quietly.
The two stood in silence for a while, watching the city stir from its torpor.
"Y'know," said Coffee. "I paid a little visit to the hangar this morning."
"That right," said VT, keeping her tone neutral.
"Mm hmm. Wanted to take a look at my ship. See how bad the damage is."
VT didn't reply.
"The door was locked," Coffee said evenly.
VT folded her arms across her chest. "Got a lot of strangers on board," she said. "Can't be too careful."
"Concerned for the security of my ship?" said Coffee. "Very considerate."
Again, VT didn't reply.
"Of course," said Coffee, examining the nails of her right hand, "could be that you're afraid I'll skip out on you, leave you with all that expensive equipment to repair. Could be you don't trust me to pay back what I owe."
"Any reason I should?" VT glanced at Coffee, gauging her reaction.
The bounty hunter showed no outward emotion, as if nothing had been said. A half-night's sleep and a cup of cold coffee may not have done much for the girl's complexion, but at least it seemed to have left her better able to marshal her emotions. She blew casually on across the fingernails of her right hand, as if to remove some speck of dust only she could see. VT was just beginning to wonder if Coffee had even heard her speak when the bounty hunter said, "Guess not." She took on her own folded-arm stance and stared out the window. "Not like I coulda gone anywhere anyway."
Coffee's unexpectedly magnanimous response left VT feeling strangely guilty. The bounty hunter was right. VT didn't trust her, and while there were a thousand reasons not to trust a stranger who had pulled a hit and run on her ship, the trucker had to admit she was finding it hard just to see past Coffee's vocation.
Old wounds, and all that.
"So, what now?" said Coffee.
VT shook off her malaise. "Now, you do what you do best," she said. She looked at Coffee. "Catch a bounty head."
Coffee gave a bitter little laugh. "Fat chance. Cho was the first bite I'd had in weeks. Way the economy's been there's barely any money left to fund bounty payments. Well's runnin' dry."
VT considered that for a moment.
"Besides," Coffee went on. "Even if I did find a bounty head, one nearby enough chase, what am I supposed to do? Hoof it downtown and drag the guy in by the ear?"
"Get a cab?" VT said lamely.
"You gonna front me the fare?"
"Point taken."
Coffee jutted out her jaw in thought, then looked sideways at VT. "Of course, if you and I were to-"
"No," VT said firmly.
"You want this old piece o' crap of yours fixed up or not?"
"Not that much."
Coffee turned and glared at VT. "What? You suddenly too good to hunt bounties for a living? You weren't too good to claim your share of Cho last night."
"That was different," VT argued without conviction.
"Sure it was," said Coffee. She looked away. "What do you do for a living anyway?"
"I'm a trucker, if you must know."
"Sweet. Maybe you can haul some potatoes to Saturn, make your damn money that way."
Coffee's dig made VT think of her suspended licence, and of the Heavy Metal Queen sitting idle at the depot. God, she hated being on vacation.
"Well, whatever you end up doing," said Coffee. "Looks like I'll be coming with you."
VT shot Coffee a look. "What?"
"Well, I ain't going anywhere without my ship, and my ship ain't going anywhere without money for repairs. If you're not gonna help me bring in a bounty then…" Coffee shrugged. "You're stuck with me."
VT rubbed the heel of her right hand against her throbbing forehead. "Ah crap," she muttered.
"So, what's it gonna be?"
VT winced. Her head hurt. Her back hurt. Both her body and her finances were all but exhausted. And she really, really didn't want to get into this. Not again. But what else could she do? Coffee wasn't going anywhere without a ship to take her, and even if she could get rid of the bounty hunter and her craft, there'd still be the issue of the Bebop's sorry condition. Short of selling her on at a serious loss, she was stuck with her as well.
VT reached a decision.
"Okay," she said quietly.
"What was that?" Coffee said.
VT could hear the satisfied smirk in her voice. "I said okay," she snapped. "Don't make this anymore shitty than it already is."
"Sorry," said Coffee, not sounding sorry at all. "Guess we better get to it, then." She turned to leave.
"Not so fast." VT turned to Coffee and stared until the bounty hunter made eye contact. "I have some conditions."
"I'm listening."
"I don't want any part of the collar," VT said firmly. "Once it comes time to bring in the bounty head, you're on your own."
"Uh huh." Coffee sounded sceptical.
"And when you catch the guy, you take him in yourself. I ain't handing anyone over to the cops."
"Didn't bother you-"
"I already told you," VT growled. "That was different. Thanks to your cavalier hunting technique Cho was already a corpse. I don't need to see some poor sap's face while he's having his life traded away."
"So, what? You're saying you'll help as long as you don't have to do any of the work."
"I'll help with the research, and I'll help you get around. But that's it. I ain't getting my hands any dirtier than I have to."
"Fine," said Coffee. She turned on her heel and strode towards the back of the bridge. "I don't know what the hell your problem is with bounty hunters, but if we're gonna work together you better get over it. Fast."
VT felt a sudden surge of anger, boiling up from her belly like bad whiskey. An old rage, sour and stale from years spent locked away. She whirled, teeth gritted, and drew breath to tell Coffee exactly what the hell her problem was with goddamned cowboys.
She caught herself. Took a deep breath through her nose and let it out slowly. The anger subsided. Coffee left the room without ever realising anything had happened. Or had been about to. VT shook her head slowly. It had been a long, long time since she'd felt that way. She'd almost forgotten she could. Old grievances, new regrets. VT found herself wondering what had happened to the carefree trucker of just the week before.
"What is it with this old bucket?" she said, looking around at the dour bulkheads and darkened displays. Just then VT felt a sudden pressure and warmth against her shins. She looked down to find Zeros rubbing up against her. "Hey there, Zeros," she said. She bent down and scooped the cat from the deck plates. "Trying to make me feel better, huh?" Zeros meowed loudly. VT chuckled. "Oh, just hungry. I shoulda known it was too good to be true." She hoisted her companion up and draped him over her right shoulder. His purr was a soothing rumble that went straight to VT's core. "C'mon then, big guy. Breakfast time."
ooo
VT left Zeros in the kitchen, lapping happily at a bowl of milk. She'd also set out the contents of a tin of dog food she'd found at the back of a cupboard, still just the right side of its expiry date. VT knew her cat wouldn't discern; years of life on the road had made him an unfussy eater. A lot like his owner in fact, which was lucky because all VT could find in the way of breakfast was a crate of self-cooking ramen pots, all of them chicken flavour.
The trucker wandered into the sitting room, a pot of soggy noodles in one hand and a plastic fork in the other. There she found Coffee sitting on the steel stairs, one long leg drawn up to support her forearm and the other stretched out before her. The bounty hunter stared intently at her handset, presumably in search of a decent lead.
Lo, having apparently dragged himself out of bed at some point in the last couple of hours, was slouched on the sofa and staring sleepily at the small TV set on the coffee table, his vacant expression suggesting that he had yet to notice he had company. VT couldn't tell what Lo was watching from this angle, but from the retina-burning colours and exaggerated sound effects, she guessed it was yet another show he was twenty years too old to be watching.
"Morning, Lo," VT said. "Sleep well?"
Lo let out a sound that was halfway between a grunt of acknowledgment and the tormented moan of the damned, accompanied by a small spray of spittle.
"Good to hear," said VT. She walked over to the foot of the stairs. "Got anything?" she asked.
"Not a goddamned thing," Coffee growled.
VT moved up alongside the bounty hunter and peered at her handset between the stair rails. "Hey, what about that guy?" she said, pointing her fork at a mugshot of a jowly man with a dead expression.
Coffee slid her finger across the screen to reveal the bounty value. "Yeah, he might just about cover the cab fare."
"I see," said VT. "They all like that?"
"Pretty much," Coffee replied. "They say it's because of a drop in syndicate activity, but the fact is there just ain't the money for the big bounties anymore. Like I said, the well's running dry." She gave a desultory flick of her finger, sending the list of paltry bounties careening up the screen, then swore and tossed the handset down onto the step beside her.
"Huh," said VT thoughtfully. She walked over to the couch and dropped herself down beside Lo. "Hey, Lo. Scoot over."
Lo gave no discernible response. That was until VT leaned forward to change stations. "Hey! I was watching that," he cried suddenly, as if the button VT had pushed was the little man's On switch.
He leaned forward to switch the channel back, but VT batted his hands away. "Sorry, pal," said the trucker. "My ship, my TV."
"B-but that's not fair," said Lo. He dropped back against the backrest, pouting. "I didn't even want to be on your stupid ship. I mean, you practically kidnapped me! The least you could do is let me watch my show." He looked left and right, as if noticing his surroundings for the first time. "And where exactly are we, anyway?"
"You're only just wondering that now?" asked Coffee.
Lo looked over his shoulder in surprise, and then quickly looked away. VT could see the flush in his cheeks, even out the corner of her eye.
"We're in Alva City," she said.
"Alva… Alva City?!" Lo sat bolt upright. "B-but, that's, like, thousands of kilometers from Tharsis!"
"Looks like we got a geography major on our hands," Coffee drawled from her spot on the stairs.
"What about my store," said Lo in an anguished voice. "What about my apartment? What about my mom?!"
"Relax," said VT, still flicking through channels. "I'll get you home, just as soon as we sort out the money for the repairs I need."
Lo threw up his hands in frustration. "Great! And what am I supposed to do 'til then?"
VT looked up from her channel surfing. "Well, you could always finish up those repairs I already paid you for."
Lo met VT's stare for a few seconds, then dropped back against the couch and into a sulk. VT shook her head despairingly and went back to scouring the airwaves.
"It must be here somewhere," she said to herself as she flicked and flicked and flicked again.
There were footsteps from behind and VT felt the chair shift slightly as Coffee leaned on its back. "What are you looking for?" asked the bounty hunter.
"That one show that was always on," VT responded absently. "Y'know, the one that showcased bounty heads. What was it called again… Hot Shot? Dead Shot?"
"What, you mean Big Shot?" said Coffee.
VT snapped her fingers in recognition. "Yeah, that was it. Big Shot. Man, it felt like that show was running non-stop in half the truck stops in the system."
"Hell, Big Shot got cancelled months ago."
VT turned and regarded Coffee over her shoulder. "That right?"
"Mm Hmm. Bad ratings, or so they said. Personally, I think that ratings stuff was bullshit. Every cowboy I know watched that show." She gave a huff of cynical laughter. "For one reason or another."
"Cancelled, huh?" VT leaned back and scratched under the rim of her cap. "That's too bad. The Mexican guy was kinda cute. Wonder what happened to him."
"Who knows," said Coffee. "The other one - the girl - married her agent, I heard."
"Oh yeah," said VT with a faint smile. "Titty Girl."
"Excuse me?" said Coffee.
"Oh, that's just what a guy I knew used to call her." VT replied. She settled back into her seat. "All that aside, we're still stuck without a lead."
Silence fell as VT and Coffee ruminated, and Lo glowered. The show upon which VT had settled, some easy-viewing nonsense about vineyards on Venus, came to an end and, after a handful of inane commercials, was replaced by a news bulletin. VT paid it no heed until Coffee made a disgusted sound and said, "Would someone please turn this crap off."
VT sat forward, suddenly interested, and reached across in front of Lo who had been leaning forward to obey Coffee's command. "Just a second," she said.
"What?" said Coffee, but VT wasn't listening, to the bounty hunter or to the news anchor, who was droning on about budgets and recessions and a raft of other dull and/or depressing concepts. Her attention had been caught by the image that floated above the anchor's left shoulder, that of the Alva City DA, Katherine Tatopolous.
Coffee gave an exasperated sigh. "Do we really need to see this again," she said, as the program cut to the same footage of the DA outside the offices of the Alva Justice Department that had been running on the TV set at the police station. "We already know why we're in this shitty situation. What we need is a lead on how to get the hell out of it."
"Yeah," said VT, a smile pulling at the edges of her lips. "Yeah, we do. And I think we might be looking at her."
"What, you mean the DA?"
VT shrugged. "Why not? We want a bounty, so why not just go to the source?"
"Go to the… are you serious?"
VT turned to look Coffee in the eye, raising her eyebrows at the bounty hunter's incredulous expression. "Yup. Unless you've got a better idea."
"So, what? You wanna just walk up the stairs of the Justice Department and book an appointment?" said Coffee. "You think Kathy's just gonna drop everything so she can listen to our sob story? Newflash, lady: We ain't the only cowboys in the system who are down on their luck."
"First of all, I am not a cowboy," said VT, fighting to keep her voice level. "And second, I'm not hearing any alternatives."
Coffee made a face like she'd picked up the scent of a dead animal rotting under the sofa. But as clearly as her expression spoke of her enthusiasm for her new partner's idea, her silence spoke even more clearly of her lack of options. Just as it seemed she must relent Coffee was spared the indignity by the sound of the door atop the stairs rolling aside. Both women turned to see Andy step through the doorway. He was still dressed in his samurai regalia, although it did at least look like he'd tried to clean himself up. His long blond hair, no longer a greasy mass of knots, was tied back in a loose ponytail, and his clothes looked to have been brushed down, if not properly laundered. He yawned massively.
VT sighed. She'd almost forgotten he was on board. She opened her mouth to greet the eccentric bounty hunter but was beaten to it by Lo.
"Oh my God!" he cried. He leapt to his feet and thrust a finger out at the figure atop the stairs. "It's a samurai! Like, a real samurai!"
"Ah, geez," VT breathed.
Andy inclined his head. "I am indeed," he said. "I am Musashi, samurai warrior and humble servant of the one they call VT." He didn't sound humble at all.
"Oh, please," sneered Coffee.
"Musashi," said Lo in a reverent whisper. "Wow…"
"His name isn't Musashi," said VT. "It's Andy. And he's not a samurai, he's damned cowboy."
"I am too a samurai," Andy complained. "I've got the sword and everything." He gestured to the tired old blade that hung at his side. "I'm certainly no cowboy. I hung up my six-shooters months ago."
"Now what the hell are you blathering about?" said Coffee.
"I'm blathering about matters of honour," Andy said, grandly. "Something a common bounty hunter like you wouldn't understand."
Coffee clenched her fists at her side. "What did you just-"
"Enough!" VT barked. For one beautiful second, it was quiet enough to hear the sound of Zeros' lapping tongue from just up the hallway. "Can it, both of you, before I knock your heads together." Andy and Coffee glared at one another but, incredibly, did as they were told. VT turned to Lo. "And you," she said.
"Me?" said Lo, stepping backwards. "W-what did I do?"
"You need to get over your samurai fixation," VT said, her anger waning.
"I'm not fixated," Lo squeaked, gesturing feebly at Andy. "He just… reminded me of my favourite show is all."
"Yeah, well. A man your age shouldn't be watching cartoons. It ain't healthy."
"But it's about a samurai. A samurai who travels to the future." Again, Lo gestured at Andy, as if to illustrate a point. "C'mon, Samurai Jack is a classic."
Coffee gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Samurai Jack? More like Samurai Jackass."
Andy made a sound of protest, while VT fought to contain her own amusement. "Alright, stow it you two," she said, forcing her expression to remain grim. "We're not gonna catch any bounty heads standing here arguing."
"Bounty heads?" said Andy with interest, his mood shifting like that of an attention-deficient child.
It was only as he began to clank his way down the stairs that VT noticed the wooden sandals he wore, just like those worn by samurais in the old movies. Except that this pair appeared to have magnetic strips glued roughly to the undersides of the wooden blocks that were fixed to the soles.
Andy strode up to VT. "Just tell me what I can do to help," he said, ignoring Coffee's protests. He placed a hand on the pommel of his sword. "My blade, and my life, are at your disposal."
"Great," said VT with a smile. "In that case, you can stay here and look after my cat while I'm out." She glanced over at Lo. "And my repair guy too, I guess."
At this Andy's proud, stern expression - one that he almost certainly practiced in front of a mirror - melted into one of disbelief. "Babysitting?" he said. "You want me to babysit your cat and your… TV guy?"
"My name is Lo," Lo complained.
VT shrugged. "Hey, you said you'd serve me until your debt was paid. No one said that service would involve fighting Genghis the Hun, or whatever."
"But-"
"Take it or leave it, pal."
Andy stuck out his bottom lip in annoyance. He blew an angry breath out through his nose, then appeared to relax. "Very well," he said. He squared his shoulders, regaining his warrior's poise. "If it is your will that I guard this vessel in your absence, then it is my solemn duty as your sworn man to oblige." He looked around. "Now, where can a hungry samurai find some grub around here?"
VT frowned for a moment at the incongruous choice of words. "Uh, kitchen," she said, jerking a thumb at the hallway. "There's a crate of ramen pots in the corner."
Andy grinned. "Ah, the traditional food of my people."
"Sure it is," said VT.
"Hey, I'm hungry too," Lo whined.
"Then we'll dine together." Andy rested a hand on his sword and marched from the room. "Come, TV Guy."
"My name is Lo!"
The two men left the room, leaving VT and Coffee staring after them.
"Wow," said Coffee, folding her arms. "I thought he was just a jackass, but now I'm thinking that Andy guy is actually cracked."
"I'm not putting any bets down either way just yet," sighed VT. She turned to the bounty hunter. "So, are we gonna go see the DA or what?"
Coffee's shoulders sank. Perhaps she'd been hoping VT would forget what they had been talking about. After a moment, she sighed loudly. "Fine. But on one condition."
Now it was VT's turn to be uncomfortable. "Ok…"
"We rent a car. And I'm driving."
Great. Another expense.