Beyond White Space

Cut! Cut! Cut!

It is said that those who venture into White Space

are cleansed of all impurities,

both mind and body.

No disease...

...no suffering.

Absolute clarity.

But the key to White Space...

resides in its celestial guardian,

Tien Lung.

Those who attempt to pass

will be met with vicious resistance.

But I do not seek entry.

I seek revenge.

Captain, you hit the mate.

Damn it!

She's blocking Ten Lung.

I'm gonna put her down.

Attack the neck where she's weak.

It'll be quick.

Here we go.

You got his attention now, Hawth.

Circle back.

Once I've hooked him, get back to the ship.

He'll lead us straight into White Space.

Pull up now!

You're not getting away this time.

Captain, did you lock him down?

Bentley! Get out of there!

Activate paging beacon.

Bentley!

Space.

The final frontier in food supply.

We here at Ambercorp

are committed to working

with the Mining and Fishing Federation

to bring you the freshest,

parasite-free food

harvested from the deep cosmos.

Now, if you have an appetite for clicker,

or a much more refined taste for celbaleen ambergris,

remember...

AmberCorp.

The name you can trust.

Comm-link to Zenith command.

Go.

This is the place.

Hyperian Delights.

Our boy should be inside.

Hm.

All the celbaleen ambergris,

crawling with these.

My people call them Feng-Cuowu,

crazy bug.

I call it a life sentence.

There's a guard at the door.

I'll pull up the details on our friend here.

This has all the latest sightings?

Everywhere Ten Lung has appeared and disappeared.

Maybe even into White Space.

Why paper?

Anything electronic has a tracking signature.

Paper can't be traced.

Boomer tricks of the trade.

You can read it, I hope.

I'll manage.

Stop.

Chen Li.

Real sweetheart.

Rap sheet a mile long.

Assault, larceny,

piracy, etcetera.

Be careful and stay out of sight.

You deliver Ten Lung without ICE entanglements,

you'll bank five seasons worth of hauls for it.

The Essex has solid harpoons,

she'll take Ten Lung down.

You'll need them.

They say energy weapons don't affect it.

You know,

I've always had the greatest respect

for your father.

He always spoke very highly of you.

So why are you setting us up?

I don't understand.

Why is ICE watching us...

the same night you show up?

Well, I have...

Desperate times.

Get it out.

I'm hearing fire.

Break off, I'll call in backup.

The Interstellar Conservation Enforcement

is recruiting the best and the brightest

to serve at home, in orbit, or in deep space.

ICE, protect without limits.

Enlist at your nearest recruitment center.

Zenith, this is interstellar fishing vessel

Essex, 7-C-S.

Standing by.

Essex, this is Zenith control.

Please continue to standby.

Copy.

You're all clear for dock three.

Boarding details?

Your Mining and Fishing escort will be waiting

along with your supply order.

Control out.

And that's your cover.

If anybody goes digging,

your ICE records have been wiped clean.

We'll be able to stay in contact about 80 mega-clicks out,

but after that,

all transmissions will have to come

from the main communications deck.

You get in a bind,

you locate the ship's beacon, you activate it.

Happy hunting.

And keep your ass alive.

Do you think going into White Space could cure her?

She thinks so.

Hey, we're heading home after one more harvest.

We need a babysitter now.

New rules.

It's gonna be some bleeding heart.

Yeah, it probably got a ponytail.

The ship will smell like patchouli oil.

As if Stubs wasn't bad enough.

We pick him up, show him one haul

and drop his ass off.

Lynn Navarro.

I'm your MFF escort.

Captain Richard Bentley.

Owen Bentley.

The Captain's younger, better looking brother.

A pleasure to meet you both.

Why don't you take care of Miss Navarro?

You can call me Lynn.

You can call me Captain.

She's all yours.

Aye, aye, Captain.

He's like sandpaper,

he'll wear off on you after a while.

Come on.

Stubs will grab your bag with the supplies.

And there he is now.

Hey.

He's a real lady killer.

I'll give you a quick tour.

All the hallways kinda look the same.

These stairs lead to the main deck.

Zenith control to Essex,

prepare for descent.

Engage thrusters.

Beginning countdown.

This is the Essex on dock.

Up and running. Standing by for clearance.

Launch sequence, activated.

I can't believe they're sticking us

with a chaperone.

This ain't the prom.

The boys may be happy about it.

What is she, easy?

Easy on the eyes.

Let's blow this Taco stand.

We're like a dysfunctional family,

fighting over one shared bathroom.

But you do get your own locker,

right next to me.

"Boo-Boo"?

There you go. Flick, flick, flick.

Flush.

Flush right down the toilet, son.

- Full boat. - Goddamn it, old man.

Fucking sharkin' me man.

So how long have you guys been together?

Past three or four years.

Is that a cry tube?

It was, now it's a fridge.

This is Lynn, our Mining and Fishing escort.

Stay away from my pots, my pan,

and my man.

We'll get along like two peas in a pod.

Batali, our cook.

And resident poet.

She wasn't kidding. She's only got one pan.

Ship's an old Russian harpooner,

built before hyperspeed,

when people had to sleep for deep-space travel.

But we've pretty much retro-fitted the whole thing.

Boo-boo!

Hey, Boo-Boo.

Nice touch with the locker, guys.

Payback's a bitch.

Hey, don't blame me.

I ain't the load that should have been swallowed.

Uh, this is our pilot, Ragsland.

Rags, this is our escort, Lynn.

The Neanderthal is Harpo.

And last but not least,