Episode 2
Trouble in Planet Tarxes
The sky over Tarxes burned with a deep amber glow, streaked with ribbons of purple and red dust carried by the relentless desert winds. Twin suns hung low on the horizon, casting elongated shadows over the labyrinthine cityscape. Towering holo-minarets flickered with glitching advertisements—opulent luxury goods, high-stakes casinos, black-market relics, and intergalactic death matches.
Below, the streets of Zaraq'til, the capital, pulsed with life, a floating metropolis of pleasure and peril, where the air was thick with the scent of exotic spices, burning incense, and the metallic tang of plasma energy.
But right now, Zana Haw Jr. and her crew weren't admiring the view—they were running for their lives.
Blaster fire ripped through the air, leaving searing blue afterimages in its wake. The sour tang of burning metal filled Zana's lungs as she sprinted across a crumbling skybridge, her boots clanging against the rusted plates.
Behind her, Onions, Vernon, and Geiren moved in formation, each ducking and weaving through the chaos as a pack of bandit aliens pursued them—multi-eyed, insectoid creatures draped in gold-threaded robes, their serrated rifles spitting plasma.
Zana gritted her teeth. "I swear to the stars, I'm going to kill him."
Onions, effortlessly vaulting over a wrecked speeder, responded dryly. "We'll get in line, spare an organ or a limb for us."
A blazing projectile shot past Zana's Novian helmet, exploding into a neon-blue fireball that illuminated the skybridge's rusted skeleton. The impact sent her stumbling, but she recovered FAST, her suit was maxing on its defenses. pulling out her customized pulse pistol and firing back. The blast hit one of the bandits square in the thorax, sending its six-legged body crumpling against a holo-kiosk advertising "Intergalactic Spa Treatments—Because Even Aliens Need Love."
Vernon, cloaked in his ever-dramatic trench coat, was frantically dancing between shots, a chaotic swirl of limbs and energy. He slung a glowing projectile toward the enemy and cackled. "They can shoot, but can they dodge magic?"
The projectile promptly exploded in his face - a smear of buttery goodness.
"What next, you gonna bake them a space cake?"
Geiren yanked him up before he could protest, rolling her eyes.
Vernon coughed, blinking through the smoke. "You wound me, Geiren. Right in the ego."
Their ship, Expedian 1.0, loomed ahead, docked haphazardly in a cramped landing bay—its hull reflecting the chaotic cyberpunk skyline, a mix of glowing circuitry and weathered steel. The gang had one shot to make it.
Blaster rounds continued to screech through the air as Zana led the final charge. "MOVE!"
Inside Expedian 1.0: The Absolute Nerve of Holden
Meanwhile, deep in the safety of Expedian 1.0, the scene was wildly different.
The ship's interior was bathed in the soft, romantic glow of a vintage space cinema projection, playing a classic love story from the Venusian film archives—a tale of doomed lovers caught between warring alien factions.
Holden lounged on an oversized couch, wrapped in a silk robe, sipping a ruby-red cocktail from a crystalline glass. His platinum hair, glossy and perfect, reflected the dim light. Beside him, Bella, with shimmering fur, purred contentedly, curled against his side.
On-screen, the tragic lead heroine whispered her final words, her voice trembling with emotion. "No matter where the stars take us... my heart will always find you."
Holden sighed dreamily. "Now that is romance."
At that exact moment—
BOOM.
The ship rocked violently, alarms blaring as the emergency lights switched to an angry crimson hue.
Holden blinked lazily. "Huh. That's probably bad."
The cockpit doors burst open, and in stormed Zana—face smudged with soot, hair a wild mess, eyes burning with unholy fury.
Behind her, Onions, Vernon, and Geiren stumbled in, dirty, sweaty and stinking, each of them looking like they had just survived a warzone.
Holden barely spared them a glance. Instead, he casually took another sip of his drink. "Wow , What happened to you guys?"
Zana dropped her gun belt on the console with a heavy thud. "Us? Holden. Tell me something."
Holden tilted his head, still unbothered. "Anything for you, dear leader."
She took a deep breath, veins visibly popping in her forehead.
"WHY THE HELL WAS OUR DELIVERY FILLED WITH YOUR HAIR GEL?"
Silence.
Onions threw up a hand. "It wasn't even good hair gel! It's labeled 'Moisture Supreme Platinum—For Senient Beings AND Their Pets'!"
"First of all, how dare you. That is premium hydration technology." Holden gestured dramatically to the rows upon rows of sleek, chrome-plated bottles stacked behind him.
Vernon Troppo, still catching his breath from running, wheezed out, "We were supposed to deliver a weapon of mass destruction to an intergalactic arms dealer, wait, that reminds me, why were we delivering a weapon of mass destruction to an intergalactic arms dealer?"
Holden tilted his head, frowning. "Oh, that thing? It didn't look like much if you ask me. I needed space and so I..."
Zana's eyebrow twitched. "You what?"
Holden gave a sheepish shrug.
Vernon, Onions, and Geiren all chimed in, "You did WHAT?!"
Holden exhaled sharply. "I took it out."
A tense silence.
Zana's voice was a low, dangerous growl. "Out where, Holden?"
"Space?!"
Meanwhile
Outer Rim, Uncharted Space
The void stretched infinitely, a canvas of shifting nebulae and fractured asteroid belts. Among the celestial debris, a scavenger ship drifted like a ghost, its rusted hull barely holding together, patched with scrap from a hundred different wrecks.
Inside the dimly lit cockpit, two alien scavengers—Jekko and Trimm—watched their radar flicker.
"You see that?" Jekko's mandibles clicked as he leaned forward, adjusting the cracked holo-display.
Trimm, a slug-like being with translucent skin, squinted at the screen. "Aye. Something round. Just floating out there."
The scavenger ship drifted closer, its spotlights cutting through the darkness. And there it was—
A smooth, metallic sphere, silent, unassuming, drifting weightlessly in the abyss. It was pristine, untouched by time, far too clean for something abandoned in deep space.
Jekko's spines bristled. "That's... that's tech. Real tech."
Trimm grinned, his gelatinous body quivering with excitement. "That's creds, mate. I say we haul it in and sell it for a few units."
Jekko hesitated. Something about it felt wrong.
"Don't you think it's weird? No serial markings, no distress beacon, just... floating there?"
Trimm snorted, already pulling the retrieval levers. "Who cares? Some dumb fringer probably jettisoned it. Their loss, our gain."
The ship's mechanical arms extended, their clawed grips latching onto the sphere. It was shockingly heavy, resisting their pull for a fraction of a second before giving in.
A shudder ran through the ship's metal frame as the device was hauled into the cargo bay.
"Alright," Trimm grinned, rubbing his slimy hands together. "Let's crack this baby open."
Jekko gulped, eyes locked on the ominous sphere.
"Yeah... what's the worst that could happen?"
— To Be Continued...
back at Expedian, The room erupted. Zana lunged for Holden, her gloved fists ready to do some damage, but Onions grabbed her mid-air, keeping her from snapping his neck on the spot.
The next moment, Holden was running for his life. Revenge served.
"ZANAAA! PLEASE!" he screamed into the comms. His coat flapped wildly as he stumbled through the smog-choked streets, plasma bolts zipping past his head. Behind him, a gang snarled as they gave chase, their red cybernetic eyes gleaming with murder.
From the ship's cockpit, Zana was unfazed. She leaned back, feet propped up, as she picked at her nails.
"Nah. I think I'll sit this one out, onions what about you? " she said casually.
"Oh no, I think I need some space, get it - holden, Space!? maybe geiren!?"
"Oh I am good, I need some space to figure this one out!"
"Haha, very funny guys, guys come on, this is Holden Kash we are talking about, you all love me, what would you all do without me!"
"Was talking about... Pretty sure, we won't have anything....no, I got this one, we won't have space to bury your remains once they are done with you," Zana put in.
"He is right you know, who would I experiment on without their prior permission and knowledge!?" Vernon said thoughtfully.
While Onions and Zana gave themselves an high five. The puns seemed 'too good' to miss.
A plasma round sizzled past Holden's ear, and he barely dodged another, rolling into a filthy food stall that reeked of roasted slug meat.
"I SAID I'M SORRY! I PROMISE I'LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU!" Holden pleaded, shoving an alien out of the way before bolting again.
"Oh yeah? How? Somebody better be finding us our next gig before we..." Zana's voice crackled through the comm.
Holden ducked under a crumbling archway, knocking over a crate of squirming, bioluminescent fish. The aliens were gaining on him.
"I... You can't do this to me, you know I am wealthy And famous!"
Zana snorted. "Oh please not that story again. You were a half-dead stowaway when we found you. Wounded, delirious, barely alive. And you've got no records anywhere, Holden. No proof. No past. You talk big about your life as a 'galactic star' but guess what? I've never heard of you - for all we know, you could be some alien experiment who escaped the lab."
"or even better, a magical alien experiment," Vernon added with a wide grin.
Holden skidded into an alleyway, heart pounding. He didn't remember much before he woke up in their ship. Just flashes. A stage. Bright lights. Applause. And then—nothing. His own memories felt like static, broken pieces of something bigger.
"I still haven't remember it all, alright?! But I know I'm close to figuring it out! At least I know my name and I know I am handsome and love romcoms and space acting, awfully expensive things, rich tastes and a good knowledge of wines and expensive food and famous people, I hate to work and I also have a weird thing for trying to marry princesses, That has to mean I am a famous, wealthy space actor!"
"You are not good at convincing people, are you?" onions asked pitifully.
A plasma shot obliterated a signpost next to his head, sending sparks raining down. Holden tripped, fell, rolled, and landed face-first in the sand. He groaned, blinking up at a massive holo-poster plastered against a metal wall.
A flashing neon advertisement.
It depicted a grand casino, towering above a city of lights, draped in gold. Beneath it, sleek luxury speeders zipped across the skyline, and in bold, extravagant letters:
WELCOME TO VIRGON – WHERE FORTUNES ARE MADE AND SOULS ARE SOLD.
Something in Holden's head clicked. A light bulb moment!
Zana's dry voice crackled over the comm. "You still alive, Kash?"
Holden, panting, grinned to himself.
"Zana. I know where we can make enough money to last us a long, long time."
Silence. Then—
"Oh yeah? Where?"
Holden's eyes gleamed with mischief.
"Planet Virgon."
The Expedian 1.0 hummed with tension as Holden's revelation hung in the air.
Planet Virgon.
Zana blinked. "Virgon? Huh. Not ringing any bells."
A heavy silence followed. Then—
Onions sighed, rubbing his temples. "Oh no. First it was Zusk, now Virgon. I swear, Kash, one of these days, you're gonna get us vaporized."
"He already tried that like for the 100th time, remember!?" Zana insisted.
Vernon Troppo suddenly perked up, eyes gleaming like a star about to go supernova. He gasped theatrically, clutching his chest.
"Captain... you've never heard of Virgon?!"
Zana shrugged. "Should I have?"
Vernon grabbed his lute, practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh, dear star-speckled heavens, I must educate you - with a song!"
"Ohhh Virgon"
Vernon struck the first chord, his voice swelling as he painted the picture with song:
"Ohhh, Virgon!
A place where fortunes rise and fall!
A land of secrets, lies, and gold,
Where the wicked hear the devil's call!"
He spun on his heel, hands sweeping through the air, drawing in an invisible audience.
"Cards are played, debts are made,
Pleasure whispers in the night,
But if you gamble more than coin...
Say farewell to your soul's light!"
Zana raised a skeptical brow.
"There's riches, there's fame,
There's whispers of things beyond,
Superstition, magic, and dread...
A paradise where you can never move on!"
The music swelled, the ship's speakers amplifying Vernon's hauntingly theatrical vibrato.
"Spend all you got, and then some more,
The house is rigged, your fate is sold!
A deal is struck, but you won't know…
Until you're old, until you're cold!
And then you'll never, NEVER go!"
Zana snorted, waving a hand. "Alright, alright, that's enough."
Vernon froze mid-verse, utterly offended. "You don't stop a good song, Captain!"
Zana leaned against the ship's console, smirking. "Oh, come on. You actually believe all that? What, they've got a demon at the blackjack table? A roulette wheel that eats people? Please."
Holden, still flat on the floor, perked up. "Wait, you know how to play poker?"
Zana's smirk deepened. She cracked her knuckles.
"Not just play. I've never lost a game."
The crew blinked.
Vernon, clearly dubious, narrowed his eyes. "Never? Not even once?"
"Not even once," Zana confirmed, folding her arms proudly. "It's basically my superpower."
Holden's eyes lit up like a malfunctioning neon sign. "That's awesome! With you and me, we could make some serious money, right? Please let me up, I can't take it anymore!"
Holden twitched. "I think I'm sweating—oh no." His face paled. "Oh no. I think I'm gonna puke."
Onions stared. "Don't tell me you're allergic to your own sweat."
Holden grimaced. "Maybe! I don't know! I think so!"
Meanwhile, Zana leaned over the control panel, her fingers tracing the air as a holographic map of Virgon flickered to life. The small planet glowed in golden hues, nestled within Star System Number 4, surrounded by satellite casinos and orbital luxury liners.
Virgon.
The planet of everything pleasure.
The map projected towering casino spires, neon-lit boulevards, and a constant, rotating skyline of holographic advertisements promising fame, fortune, and endless indulgence.
Zana studied it carefully. "Virgon may not be on my list of places to throw money away, but there's always rich clients looking for a good deal."
She tapped the hologram, scrolling through trade routes. Nothing.
Her brow furrowed. "Weird. It's not even on the standard cargo board. Why would a place that makes this much money keep its trade routes so quiet?"
A beat.
Then she grinned. "Well, guess we're going to Virgon."
Holden fist-pumped from the floor. "YES!"
And in that exact moment—
BLAM!
The wall beside him exploded into molten debris.
His celebration instantly turned to screaming as the bandits from before spotted him, snarling in rage.
"GET HIM!"
Holden scrambled to his feet. "Wait-wait-wait—I take it back! I TAKE IT BACK!"
Zana rolled her eyes. "Alright. Enough of this. Next time, you may not be so lucky!"
She punched a switch on the dashboard.
Above Holden, the Expedian 1.0's rear hatch hissed open. A gravitational pull yanked him off the ground, just as a dozen plasma shots fired directly at his head.
Holden vanished into the ship's interior, flipping mid-air as he was pulled inside.
The hatch slammed shut.
A moment of silence.
Then—
"I think I peed a little," Holden muttered.
Zana sat back into the captain's chair, stretching. "Next stop, Planet Virgon."
The Call with Pompom
The Expedian 1.0's holo-room hummed with a faint blue glow, flickering as the connection stabilized. Pompom, lounged on a floating cushion, a half-smoked synth-cigar clamped between his jagged golden teeth. The background behind him was a dazzling blur of golden drapes, hanging baubles, and the ever-present hum of distant, lively music—Pompom never called from the same place twice.
Zana crossed her arms, leaning forward. "Virgon. What do you know?"
Pompom let out a wheezing chuckle, exhaling a spiral of iridescent smoke. "Ah, what do you want, make it quick and meaningful - wait you just said virgon, hah… getting desperate I see." His voice was like silk wrapped around a blade, smooth but dangerous.
He adjusted his many rings, golden fingers catching the light. "Virgon used to be a wasteland. Crime-ridden, lawless… a place for the desperate and the damned. A fertile planet once, sure, but its core was unstable—still is, if you ask me."
Zana raised a brow. "Unstable? Then why is it still standing?"
Pompom grinned, showing a row of teeth too sharp for comfort. "Because the right people wanted it to. It was supposed to be destroyed once it's people redeployment by C. C. T. T had been completed, but then—came the Heads."
Onions, standing in the back, visibly tensed. "The Heads?"
Vernon snapped his fingers, as if recalling an old legend. "mysterious Secretive ultra-rich types, right? Own entire star systems?"
Pompom nodded lazily. "Bingo. No one knows exactly who they are, but they bought Virgon right out of the hands of the C.C.T.T."
Zana tapped her fingers against the console. "And the C.C.T.T. just… let them?"
Pompom's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Virgon is a ticking time bomb. The C.C.T.T. didn't care—too risky, too expensive to blow up, too much trouble, no use apparently. The Heads, though? They saw potential. They turned that floating disaster into the biggest pleasure hub in the sector. Every vice, every fantasy—you name it, they sell it."
Lopoea, silent until now, narrowed her eyes. "And G.O.R.E. has no jurisdiction there?"
Pompom's laugh was dry, almost pitying. "G.O.R.E.? Oh, sweet thing… Virgon isn't on any official trade routes, isn't part of any governing body. It's a ghost on the maps. The only reason it's listed on the I.G.B.C. is because the clients are too powerful to erase completely. The ones who go there? They don't want to be found. Rich folks, secret pleasures, conspiracies, things that don't belong in the light."
Zana's stomach twisted at the implications. "And people who go… don't always come back?"
Pompom shrugged, the movement slow and deliberate. "Not the same, at least. But that's not my business."
His tone shifted, suddenly sharper. "Speaking of business… I recall you and your dastardly crew still owe me - "
Zana straightened up immediately, cutting the call with a smooth motion.