by M. D. Cooper
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Miss Planet Earth and the Amulet of Beb-Sha-Na
by S.E. Anderson
Katra Zorento’s day just kept getting worse. Never mind turning purple; barely an hour later she seemed to have been claimed by a creepy metal snake, and a giant pig had appeared in the void of space outside the window.
It’s been a full month since Katra awoke thirteen thousand years in the future, and she’s been adjusting well to the life of a space pirate. Even if her ex-finacé Marcus is still living in her brain.
But when a heist goes wrong, she suddenly finds herself as a long slumbering deity’s Chosen One. With powers to alter probability, and FunCorp hot on her tail, the suddenly purple former pageant queen has got her job cut out for her – so long as she doesn’t implode, first. Will she be the hero or the villain of her story?
Chapter 1: The Dynamic Duo-Trio
Katra
Katra had long since gotten the hang of karate chopping her way through a hoard of Kablusians, but oddly enough, Marcus had not. And when half of your brain has no idea what it’s doing, the karate chopping becomes damn near impossible.
It was a literal case of the right hand not knowing what the left was doing – quite simply because Katra had custody of lefty today, and Marcus the right. Whenever it came to working in tandem, the best they could do was argue over who should get full control, and, when no agreement was ever made, continue to swing their appropriate limbs wildly until they collided with Kablusian flesh. The entire process was messy and overly exhausting for both parties, but they were each too stubborn to come to a working agreement, so there was not much anyone else could do.
“Hurry up and get their necks, Katrus!” yelled Jesi, her voice shrill in their ears. “Chop chop!”
“Things would be a lot easier if mr.always-right would let me drive!”she replied, swinging her left leg as high as it could go. Which was incredibly high, as the thing was insanely long. She caught the closest Kablusian right under the ear, slamming her heel into the soft skin between its metallic plates. The creature let out a shrill cry – like a rubber chicken under a steamroller – and crumpled to the floor.
They were surrounded on all sides by the Kablusian hoard. The creatures were tall and entirely covered by thick metallic plates, plates which were completely impervious to laser blasts and thus making a physical attack the only possible approach. The smell of steel was heavy around them, making Katra’s single nostril curl. She was lucky not to have control of both for that very reason.
She probably looked insane in that moment, but she was a woman with a literal split personality, so things were better than they could have been. Two communicators shot out of her ears – one for her, one for Marcus – and in her hands, two swords, each swinging wildly towards the fleshy necks of the angered enemy.
“Yorick! Have you got the amulet yet?”
“I need five more minutes!” came his wild reply, making Katra’s heart soar: she was glad the heart was hers today. At the edge of her mind, she felt Marcus butting in, and she felt the jealousy there. For some reason, it made her heart swell even more. “The blowtorch is shot!”
“Screw it, we’re going for the deathshot!” Their captain managed to keep her calm, despite everything. It could have had something to do with her staying nice and safe up on the ship while her team did all the dirty work for her. “Podulk, you’re going to have to act now!”
“They outnumber us significantly, Captain,” he replied, his voice as stoic as ever. It was oddly calming, in this instance.
Katra dealt another deathly blow with her sword, freeing the closest Kablusian from his body. The blood gushed from the stump at his neck, purple goo covering the young woman head to toe. She spat it from her lips.
“Gross!” she exclaimed, angrily dragging her arm across her face to wipe it away. “Marcus, will you just please let me do this?”
“If I do, then I get the body on Thursday night,” he said, “I need it for poker.”
“You get arms,” she snapped, delivering another deadly kick to a Kablusian, all while Marcus shoved another away with the butt of his sword. “but I retain leg control. You make us pee much too much.”
“Fine, but I get legs back for Sunday.”
“Whatever! Give me my arm back, now!”
She didn’t wait for the feeling in her fingers to return, the slow trickle of nerves returning to her mind. Before her hand was even back online, she swung it backwards, grabbing a Kablusian between the plates of the neck and face, ripping the windpipe clear out.
Despite Marcus returning control of her limbs, she still retained his knowledge of combat and martial arts. And after the past month spent almost entirely running across the galaxy and beating up everything and everyone in sight, her body was a lean, mean, fighting machine.
Armed now with both swords, the woman executed a magnificent set of blows, tearing through the Kablusian hoard as if they were holograms. They fell like dominoes, screeching in agony. Music to her ears.
What wasn’t so great was regaining the entirety of her sense of smell. The alien goop was far too purple to smell that acrid. Katra’s nose wrinkled at the stench of rusty, dying fish.
“I’ve got it!”
Yorick’s voice came through both communicators at once, but Katra took the sonar blowout in stride. Not fast enough, though: with a swift kick to the small of her back, she collapsed on top of her latest corpse.
“You sure you don’t need me covering your back?” asked Marcus, smugly, from the very back of her brain. She allowed herself to sneer.
She pushed herself off the dead Kablusian body like it was a springboard, bracing herself on her arms as she kicked up and back, catching her assailant right in the baby-maker. He left out a piercing wail as she spun to her feet, bringing the sword crashing through his neck.
Another fountain of foul blood was awaiting her.
“Yorrick has the amulet!” Jesi repeated for all to hear. “Back to the ship, hurry!”
Katra flung herself towards the exit, almost crashing into Yorick, who was carrying a massive gem the size of a football in his arms. The rock was encased in a thick metal serpent, the coolest setting for a gem she had ever seen.
“Thanks for keeping them at bay,” he said, grinning, holding the Amulet up as if to punctuate his need for her help.
Katra felt the heat rising to her face, and she smiled right back at him. All the while, purple goo ran down her hair, completely saturating her clothes. She was entirely purple head to toe, and, as much as she wanted to lean in for a kiss, she knew the scent would not really be the best turn on.
“Anytime,” she replied, reaching up to push her hair out of her face, catching the goo in her hand. It was thick like shampoo. “Shall we get out of here?”
“Gladly,” Yorick agreed. “Podulk, bring it down!”
“Hey! I’m the one giving orders around here!”
Yorick rolled his eyes, then indicated that maybe they should get going. Katra could not have been faster to respond. The two of them barreled down the ruins of the temple, past the discarded, decapitated corpses Katra had strewn there on their way in.
“Does this mean it is time for my contribution?” asked Podulk, his voice as calm and composed as ever.
“Yes! Let ‘er rip!”
“Who? Who is ripping?”
“Now, Podulk!”
And with that, the world exploded.
Katra was way too cool to look back at explosions. That, and she had seen enough of them in her past month in the future to last her a lifetime. Instead, she let the noise rush over her, the wave of sound to send her ears ringing and head spinning. She f
elt the heat behind her, knowing she was faster than the fireball, that Podulk had everything calculated down to the last second so that she and Yorick could escape with seconds to spare.
She loved the rush of running, the knowledge that they had won, that they had their trophy and had reached their goal. The run for the ship was her favorite part of any heist, arguably the best part of any day. She found herself laughing with the elation – until goo ran into her mouth, forcing her to spit as she ran.
They flew out of the temple’s mouth, throwing themselves to the ground so the fire would rush over them, leaving their fireproof backs unscathed. It was only once the heat has receded and the cold of night had returned that Katra pushed herself back up to her feet, blinking the flashes of fire from her eyes.
“Yeah baby! Woo!” she screamed, throwing her hands in the air. There was nothing like standing on a mountain peak on an alien planet, the wind of another world blowing over her skin, a thousand year old temple crumbling behind her by her hand.
Well, Podulk’s hand, but she played her part, dang it. And she loved it.
“This is Yorick, calling up the Beyoncé,” said Yorick, pushing himself up to his feet, the massive gemstone glistening in the triple moonlight. “Care to teleport us up?”
“Took you long enough,” said Jesi, the pride in her voice evident over the intercom. “How’s my loot looking?”
“Pretty magnificent, captain,” the thief said, stroking the stone. His hand left a sweaty grease mark on one of the perfect faces. “We’re going to get a pretty penny for this one.”
“Then I guess you can come up.”
Katra felt the wave of nothingness wash over her, through her, and suddenly, the moment was gone. No more standing victorious on the roof of an alien world: now she was back to the white walls of the teleport room, safe and secure in the one place she could call home.
It was only then that she became fully aware of how disgusting she felt. The goo had saturated every piece of clothing she was wearing, sticking to her skin and even soaking into her socks. As she stepped off the transporter, she realized just how much her feet were squishing in her Palmanian leather boots, and saw the purple tracks she left behind as she walked off the white pad.
“Froz,” she cursed, “Another mess for Owaitt, I guess.”
“Can I get my arm back, now?” asked the voice in the back of her head. She let out a heavy sigh, calming her breathing, before retreating to the right hemisphere.
Feeling in her fingers and leg dwindled until they were numb, her former fiancé flexing the muscles independently of her own will.
“Nice work, back there, you two,” said Yorick, nodding to both her left and right sides.
“It was a team effort,” said Katra, before handing control of the lips to Marcus.
“We have the item, then,” said Marcus. He reached a hand out to poke at the massive stone, running a finger down the back of the metal serpent.
“All went perfectly,” replied the pirate, grinning. Katra grinned back with her half of the lips, before Marcus brought them back to a neutral frown.
The lips were the hardest to share, out of everything. Both wanted to talk, but that was impossible with half the mouth numb. Like toddlers learning to share their toys, they begrudgingly passed full control back and forth, until both had said their part. But it was far from effortless.
Owaitt stepped away from the teleport control panel, nodding at the three people in two bodies before him.
“Welcome back… Yorick, Marcus, and Katra,” he said, awkwardly, staring at the tattoo on his hand. Jesi had implemented a genius system to automatically reboot the android every time his words ran out, but as of yet, no solution to the memory problem had been found. So a trip to the tattoo shop later, and the man now had every crew-member’s name and description lovingly engraved in his hand. It helped with the confusion a little.
“Thanks, Owaitt,” said Katra, using her full lips to smile before Marcus took them back. He claimed he had a better resting bitch face than she did, but that was probably a matter of opinion.
“Shall I accompany you to the bridge?” he asked, politely smiling back.
“I’ll show you the way, bud,” said Yorick, anticipating the android’s disorientation. It wasn’t easy having to be rebooted every time you spoke too much. The android’s other hand just said “avoid talking!” in bold, blue letters, a reminder that his time would always be limited.
“You coming, Katra?” Asked Yorick, turning back at the exit. Katra found herself shaking her head.
“I need to shower,” she replied, “this goo is really burning my nostrils.”
“And I need time with my fiancé,” Marcus said.
“Ex-fiancé,” Kara insisted.
“Alright,” the man shrugged, “Jesi’s going to be pleased with today’s catch. Come join us for drinks, before her good mood wears off.”
“Of course!” she replied, while in the back of her head, Marcus tutted loudly.
The pirate and the android made their way back to the bridge, the thief doing all the excited talking as Owaitt listened. Podulk would be joining them soon, walking back to the ship on foot as soon as he had picked up the reusable parts of his detonator.
The little team had truly flourished in the last month. They were like a well oiled machine – not that any machines needed oil in the year 15,492, more commonly known as ‘the year of the green’ by the current unifying calendar, not that Katra could make much sense of the color coded calendar years.
Jesi ruled the ship with an iron fist; Yorick patiently waited for her orders, doing his best to outshine her at every opportunity while completely aware she would kill him in his sleep if he ever stepped out of line. Podulk seemed unconcerned with politics, and, having accepted Jesi’s command with ease, did whatever she needed of him, which usually involved setting up complicated controlled detonations and saving the day.
As for Owaitt, he had an incredible knack for killing since he had been reprogrammed by Yorick on the day they had first met, which made for a fantastic asset on missions, except when he forgot which team he was fighting for. He had been relegated to housekeeping duty until they found a way to fully utilize his skills properly.
And finally, there was the dynamic duo: Katra and Marcus, fiancés sharing her pageant queen body. With her stunning good looks, perfectly healthy body, and his in depth knowledge of weapons and martial arts, they were unstoppable.
Well, ex-finacés. And that changed a lot.
“I can’t believe you just said that,” said Katra, putting her hand on her hip angrily.
“You were doing that thing again,” Marcus replied, “You know I hate how you look at him.”
“We’re not together anymore. I can look however I like, at whomever I like.”
“Correction: we’re stuck together. We’re in this, together.”
“I don’t want this conversation again, Marcus,” she said, feeling exasperated. “I’m tired. Can we just wash up and go out for drinks, like normal people?”
“Normal? Since when have we been normal?”
“Not for a long time. But I’d like to be.”
“Then get back with me, Katra,” he urged. “Don’t let this charade go on any longer. We’re meant to be together, don’t you see?”
Katra did see – at first. When Marcus had finally managed to speak to her, from inside her mind, she had been relieved and excited to have her one true love back with her again. Not to mention, he was the only other person in the universe to have come from her era. But the novelty of it quickly wore off: knowing every single thought, no matter how good or bad, made relationships quite difficult. Even more so, sharing a body that both felt equally entitled to.
First, they had struggled to share. They had started by alternating days with full control, but that didn’t last very long. So they had decided on shared custody, agreeing on which limbs they retained full control of and for how long, switching control around when
agreements were made.
But the agreements became harder and harder to make, and slowly, the relationship dissolved to nothing. Katra felt nothing for Marcus anymore: the man was incredibly dull when he argued over why he deserved to have control of her legs, or arms, and their inability to communicate just ended everything.
And as much as she hated to admit it, but Marcus knew very well from sharing her mind, the sex was just awful. Not to mention, his constant jealousy over her attraction to Yorick – not that that was something she could control – left her feeling trapped and angry.
She needed space from him. Instead, she was trapped in space, with him.
So, the two had dissolved their engagement, but they continued sharing Katra’s body. It was not an optimal solution by any sense of the word.
“Can we not?” she said, sighing heavily. “I’m tired. I just want to wash this goo off of me.”
“Us.”
“What?”
“Off of us.”
“Again, can you not?”
Katra and Marcus’s quarters had once been the room of a first class passenger, not that many high rollers went to the planet formerly known as Earth. It wasn’t fancy, but it was much larger than the shared room she had first been assigned to.
They had all the creature comforts: softest sheets, steam shower and a bath with jets, a talking toilet that played music as it cleaned your posterior. They also had access to most television available in the universe, not that there was ever anything good on.
Katra ripped off her clothes – with great difficulty, Marcus not being much help – and tossed them instantly in the trash. There was no point even trying to clean them: they were so saturated with goo, they were oozing. Even the skin beneath them was covered in it.
So, a bath was out of the question. After a lengthy debate in which she argued against the jets and Marcus demanded sitting in the warm water, he finally relented, and allowed her control enough to wash in the steam shower.