Spice & Sugar

The bar next to the spaceport is your favorite haunt. It's a relatively classy joint, with expensive drinks and live performers who keep all their clothes on. That's rather the point of a joint owned by the Space Mob: low-key and inconspicuous, and always available for when burly guys needed stuff smuggled off world. Just your type of place, as long as you remember to whistle and look the other way when a guy in a poorly-fitting suit asks you not to see something.

It's a quiet night, and there's not a lot for you to do but watch a bug-polo game on the holoscreen. Luckily, relief comes in the form of a distraction: a pair of women in club outfits breezing through the front door with all the grace and subtlety of two geese fighting over a loaf of bread.

One of them, a busty blonde wearing booty-shorts and a trendy croptop, shoots an angry look at her partner as they stomp across the room. "Ten different nightclubs and nothing! We've wasted a whole day here! Forget the reports, some super-thief isn't going to be hanging around in a bar out in the open!"

Her partner, a classier-looking thing with curly hair and a slinky black dress, shrugs grumpily. "I could have sworn that guy in the last one was suspicious."

"Well he wasn't! And those fifty broken booze bottles are going on your expense report!"

The two reach the bar, and slump over in the seats next to you. The one with the curly hair sighs. "Whatever. Let's just grab a drink and get out of here before we wind up on the news again."

The data-chip of a late spice baron is a prize worth killing for, and certainly worth stealing. Blackmail, secret bank accounts, stash locations, all on one convenient storage device. You're lucky enough to know about somebody who's got one. Unluckily, you're watching her get arrested.

It's those two weirdo galactic investigators, Sugar and Spice. They're outside the home of reputed underworld queen "Lady Jade", putting the grumpy lady herself in handcuffs over her mink coat. Sugar smirks as she leads their charge to a police hovervan.

"Lady, you can fool all of the people all of the time, but you can't fool the law."

Spice calls out from the front seat of the van. "It's 'Some of the people all of the time, all of the people'-"

"I don't care! Let's just get a move on, handling this coat is making me itchy."

They're about to leave with your prize. But you're pretty sure you'll be able to snatch it away from them- for one thing, Sugar has obviously put on those handcuffs incorrectly.

The casinos of Neo-Indianapolis are in the sweet spot for your preferences: classy enough that the ashtrays don't hog the craps table, humble enough that the security still has some holes. Your target tonight in the Silver Supernova is the main vault, thanks to a lucky tip you got on the main access code. Before you make a break for it, though, you have to blend in, mingle a bit.

You sit down at a green-felt table, hoping to start the night with a quick few rounds of poker. It's only when you set your drink down that you realize you recognize the dark-skinned woman in the classy evening gown, and the blonde-haired dealer in her bunny outfit. Sugar and Spice return your look of surprise.

Spice is the first to recover. "Oh, poop."

Sugar blinks her eyes a few times, then slowly gives you a big wide artificial smile. "Welcome, customer, to the Silver Supernova casino! I hope you enjoy your evening here." She leans forward, her bunny ears wiggling as her voice drops. "Look, loverboy, we've got bigger fish to fry here, okay? Just for tonight, let's say you stay out of our way and we'll do the same for you. Capiche?"

Those two crazy Patrolwomen are hot on your heels again, and you really couldn't have picked a worse neighborhood for it. A university research campus really isn't your territory, and you should have figured that a tip for a score here would really just be a sting.

You bolt through a random, forgotten-looking door. Without looking around, you hide under a dusty table. A split-second ladder, you hear the door open again and two pairs of boots thump into the room.

"That door's open! I bet he went in there!"

There's more thumping, then a metallic swish and click. A computerized voice chimes: "Now beginning sealed biosphere test protocol. Expected duration: two standard years."

You stand up and survey your surroundings. You're standing in an old test chamber, the wall dominated by a row of control panels before a huge reinforced window. Through it you can see Sugar and Spice, now apparently trapped in some sort of huge arboretum, looking around in confusion. Spice spots you, attempts to reopen the door, then starts furiously pounding on the window.

"Hey! You're double-arrested if you don't let us out of here right now, mister!"

The back room of a police spaceship wasn't quite what you expected. For one thing, there was the washing machine. For another thing, there was the trail of unfolded clothes leading away from the washing machine to the door, where a discarded bra now wedged it open. This room had probably been intended as a cell, but longterm occupancy seemed to have different ideas.

Spice, your temporarily triumphant captor, casually kicks aside the bra as she struts into the room. She crosses her arms across her chest with a smug expression, and seems to take pleasure in looming over your seated position. She probably hasn't yet figured out that she put your cuffs on wrong.

"Getting comfortable back here, big shot? You gave us quite the chase, but it's over for now. We're off this rock just as soon as the tower gives us takeoff clearance, and then it's just a three day trip straight to prison."

A blonde head pokes its way through the door. "Five minutes until we leave, Spice."

Spice nods an acknowledgement as Sugar heads back to the cockpit. "These three days are gonna fly by. Might as well confess everything while you've got the chance."

As you slowly wake you're greeted with pleasant warmth that covers your side and chest. Opening your eyes reveals a bedroom that isn't your own, sparsely decorated except for some tacky holo-lights and a lot of dirty laundry. A brown arm drapes around you, a manicured hand gently gripping your chest hair. Spice sighs softly, and flutters open her eyes with a smile.

"Morning, handsome. Remember, this is just a truce, you're not off the hook yet... but after last night I'm probably going to be chasing you for a different reason."

Your reverie is broken by a loud, impatient thumping at the apartment door, and another voice you recognize. "Spice! Spice, it's me, open up. I left my gym card in there somewhere the other day, help me find it."

Spice's eyes widen, and she leaps out of bed, scrambling to find something to wear. She hisses at you under her breath. "Hide! Quick! She can't know you were here; you'd get arrested and I'd never live it down!"

You figured an empty mall would be good place to try and evade Spice and Sugar, but it seems to have just removed any restraint they had on their fire. Ray-gun zaps blast all around you as you run, melting the signs of the food court, blowing up clothes racks, and generally causing hell for the janitors later. They conspicuously avoid shooting you directly, though- your new friend is probably a part of that.

"Put that thing down! You don't have a license and it's supposed to be on a leash!"

The polypian, meanwhile, just sits on your head happily, wrapping its tentacles around your midsection for support as you run. It seems kind of friendly, actually, it's a shame that environmentalist group hired you to steal it.

You make a turn onto another hallway, overturning a rack of remote-control warp-drones as the polypian hums with concern, only to come face to face with Sugar, her ray-gun drawn. "End of the line, buster."

Spice closes in behind you. "Put down the governor's pet and this'll go easier for all of us."

It was a surprise when your two 'associates' in the Galactic Patrol messaged you asking for help. Apparently space cops don't have a lot of contacts in the criminal underworld, and they were willing to put the chase on hold for a while in exchange for your help. Fine by you- you were planning on hitting up this party anyway.

Sugar shifts uncomfortably in her red cocktail dress, adjusting her grip on your arm. "Don't get too comfortable. We've got a job to do here, remember."

A three-eyed security guard gives you a skeptical look as you walk up the garden path, but waves you through as you hold up your invitation. Smooth and casual, the two of you enter the main hall of the Maison Lyra, notorious headquarters of one of the most dangerous sects of the Space Mafia.

"There is is." You follow Sugar's outstretched finger to the magnificent gemstone on display in the shielded display case hovering overhead, the raison d'etre for this criminal shindig. "The Eye of Andromeda. We've got to get to it before the auction starts."

Spice's voice chimes in through your hidden earpiece. "Don't just point at it, Sugar. Your cover has got to last at least until you find a way to recover that thing."

The judge thought you were a fool to try and represent yourself, but you talked him into it. After all, a lawyer would just be an unnecessary expense- whatever the verdict, you're not planning on spending much time in prison. They haven't invented a cell that can hold you, so you might as well have fun with your day in court.

"...And that's pretty much all of it, your honor."

Sugar sits on the witness stand, looking uncomfortable in a chrome pantsuit. She's just finished giving her admittedly very extensive testimony of her time chasing you, though she's conspicuously avoided mentioning any details about all the collateral damage she's caused chasing you, or any details of your more 'compromising' encounters. She gives you a long, annoyed look from the stand, as if sensing your thoughts.

"In summary, we have a man who has devoted his career to flouting the law, openly and joyfully at every turn. While he is a man of... redeeming qualities, it's hard to look past the fact that he's gone so far as to invent several new crimes."

The judge nods solemnly. He looks from Sugar in the witness stand, to Spice sitting over with the prosecution, then over to you. "We'll now give the defense the opportunity to cross-examine the witness."

You rise, and walk over to the witness stand.

You didn't mean to interrupt Spice & Sugar's vacation, you really didn't, but it seems that fate has a way of slamming the three of you together. The resort planet of Bermuda-3 is reputedly littered with the forgotten treasures of space pirates, and you were only here because you got your hands on a map. You thought it was a lucky break, until your hover-skimmer splashed them on their boat and they set off after you with bloodhound instinct.

"Get back here! You're gonna pay for interrupting peak tanning hours!"

"I paid twenty credits for that cocktail, you jerk!"

They harangue you via megaphone as they pursue, taking turns shooting you with their ray guns. And just as you get within sight of your target island, they land a lucky hit, followed by n unlucky rear collision as your speed drops. Both of your craft, damaged beyond repair, drift to a halt on the beach of the deserted island.

"Well isn't this just peachy," Spice says. Still wearing just flip-flops and a sporty one-piece, she drops off the side of her skimmer, studying its crumpled front-end and the smoking engine of your own. Sugar joins her, wearing just a red bikini and a disgruntled expression. Spice glares at you, stowing her energy pistol back in their drink cooler.

"Great, we're stuck here. I don't suppose this was your plan, smart guy?"