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Snow drifted lazily across the Southern Water Tribe compound as a twelve-year-old Avatar Korra sat cross-legged in the stables, arms folded dramatically. In front of her, a small, very fluffy Naga stared up at her with enormous eyes.
Korra sighed with the crushing weight only a pre-teen could summon.
"Nobody understands me, Naga," she said.
The Polar Bear Dog sneezed.
Korra pointed accusingly. “Exactly.”
Naga tilted her head as Korra flopped backward into hay. "Earthbending is stupid."
Naga barked.
“NO IT IS.”
She sat up, gesturing wildly. "Stand your ground, root yourself, be stubborn—"
Mocking, "'Feel the mountain, Korra.'"
"'Patience, Korra.'"
"'You are approaching this incorrectly, Korra.'"
She threw her arms up. "EVERYTHING is incorrectly, Korra!"
Naga rolled onto her back.
Traitor.
Absolute traitor.
Korra pointed at her.
“Don’t look at me like that.”
She huffed. “Why do I even have to learn Earth before Fire? Fire’s so cool.” She waved her hand, a small torch of fire igniting, wrapping around her hands then dissipating.
Naga made a tiny whining sound.
Korra dramatically grabbed the pup's fluffy face. “THANK YOU.”
Tiny tail wag.
Validation achieved.
Korra sighed again.
Smaller this time.
“...I just wish I had somebody”
Silence.
Snow drifted outside.
Naga crawled over and plopped directly into Korra's lap despite being approximately the size of a large beanbag.
Korra hugged her automatically.
"...I have you."
Tiny happy noises.
Pause.
Korra stared at the icy ceiling.
"...but you're terrible at conversation."
Naga licked her nose. "BLEGH—"
Then—
RRRRRRMMMMMMMMMMMM
The stable shook.
Both Korra and Naga froze.
Another distant rumble. Long. Deep. Not thunder. Not wind. Something else.
Korra slowly looked toward the heavy doors that led into the icy tundra.
Naga followed her gaze.
They looked at each other.
Korra narrowed her eyes.
Naga narrowed her eyes.
Probably accidentally.
"...did you hear that?"
Her furry companion let out a small bark.
"Okay good."
Because if Naga hadn't heard it too that would've been way creepier.
Another rumble echoed overhead.
Longer now.
Closer.
Korra stood immediately.
Which is to say she forgot she still had Naga on her lap.
Tiny yelp.
Minor chaos.
Several seconds of apologizing.
Korra pointed dramatically toward the doors.
"Adventure."
Naga barked.
Korra narrowed her eyes.
"Investigation."
Tiny bark.
"...mystery?"
Tiny bark.
Korra gasped.
"MYSTERY ADVENTURE."
Tiny excited spinning.
Decision made.
Absolutely no further thought required.
Outside, snow whipped across the compound.
In the distance something dark moved through the clouds.
Huge.
Fast.
Unfamiliar.
And somewhere far away several members of the White Lotus suddenly felt a terrible, inexplicable sense of dread.
One master looked up from tea. "...huh."
Pause.
"...we should check on the Avatar."
Too late.
Far, far too late.
Snow blasted sideways across the Southern Water Tribe tundra as young Korra marched heroically into the storm.
Behind her, Naga waddled through snowdrifts with all the dignity of an oversized cotton ball.
Which was to say: none.
Absolutely none.
Korra pointed dramatically into the distance.
"Naga."
Tiny bark.
"There is a mystery."
Tiny bark.
"And we—"
She tripped into a snowbank.
Silence.
Tiny Naga walked over.
Licked her forehead.
Korra emerged from the snow with what she believed was dignity.
It was not dignity.
It was snow in her eyebrows.
Then she saw it.
She froze.
Naga froze.
Both slowly looked up.
Up.
Further up.
Even more up.
Because sitting in the snowfield ahead was—a gigantic metal thing.
Smooth.
Curved.
Dark.
Absolutely enormous.
Korra stared.
Long pause.
"...A hut."
Naga gave a small bark.
"...A metal hut."
Another small bark.
Korra pointed.
"Mystery metal hut."
They crept forward.
By "crept," Korra meant "ran directly at it."
Naga bounded after her through snow.
Closer now.
The thing was gigantic.
Its surface curved strangely.
No windows.
No obvious doors.
No anything.
Korra walked around it suspiciously.
Narrowed her eyes.
Folded arms.
"...I don't think huts are supposed to look like this."
Naga gave a curious whine.
She rounded another curve—
—and stopped.
There.
An opening.
A ramp.
Stairs leading upward.
Into darkness.
Silence.
Korra looked up.
Naga looked up.
They looked at each other.
Korra whispered:
"...secret hut."
Tiny bark.
Korra gasped.
"...secret mystery hut."
Naga immediately became excited despite not understanding words.
Both scurried inside.
Samus Aran, bounty hunter, saviour of the galaxy and unique specimen of human, Chozo, Metroid and X Parasite DNA, was having a bad day.
She had tracked her target, a Yuatja nicknamed Impaling Might, to this planet, one colonised by humans but regressed to semi-industrial development.
After a long fought battle, she had neutralised the predator who was dying of his species’ equivalent to a rare blood disease and gave him the warriors’ death he had requested before boarding her ship to leave.
However something had lodged itself into the gunship’s extraplanetary thrusters, preventing her from leaving and so she had landed the ship in the isolated South Pole to fix it.
She charged up a small charge of her plasma beam, incinerating the strange vines coiled within the thrusters without damaging it.
Silence.
She stared at it.
Looked at her ship.
Checked scans.
Everything green.
Good.
No hostiles.
No environmental hazards.
No problems.
Excellent.
She boarded the gunship.
Ramp closed.
Systems online.
Engines hummed.
Deep in the cargo section—
Korra looked up.
"...Naga."
Bark.
"...the hut is making noises."
Whine
A soft vibration ran through the floor.
Korra blinked and looked down.
Another vibration.
Stronger.
Korra frowned.
Slowly.
Very slowly.
"...Naga, do huts move?"
Naga stared.
Silence.
Outside—
The engines ignited.
Snow exploded outward.
The ship lifted.
Rose.
Turned.
Accelerated.
Inside—
Korra felt gravity shift.
Silence.
"...Naga, I think we made a mistake."
Stars stretched into impossible ribbons of blue-white light beyond the canopy as the gunship slipped cleanly into faster-than-light travel.
Inside, the violent force of launch faded into a familiar, comfortable hum.
Engines stabilized.
Flight vectors aligned.
Artificial gravity compensated.
Mission complete.
At last.
Samus Aran leaned back in the pilot seat and slowly exhaled through her nose.
Long mission.
Long planet.
Long day.
Very long day.
The Power Suit dissolved around her body in streams of light and folded itself away, leaving only the sleek dark-blue Zero Suit beneath. She rolled one shoulder experimentally.
The Yautja hunt had been irritating.
The malfunction had been irritating.
Landing on an undeveloped world had been irritating.
Everything about today had been irritating.
Above her, a calm synthetic voice spoke.
ADAM said, "Course corrected. FTL trajectory stable."
Samus stood.
Good.
No more problems.
No hostiles.
No environmental hazards.
No anomalies.
Excellent.
Food.
Then sleep.
Then another contract.
Simple.
Peaceful.
She headed toward the gallery.
Crunch.
Samus stopped.
Silence.
She glanced down.
A crumb.
Tiny.
Brown.
Protein bar.
She took another step.
Crunch.
Another crumb.
Another.
Then—
a wrapper.
Samus stared.
The gunship was immaculate.
Always immaculate.
A wrapper in the middle of the floor looked less like litter and more like evidence.
Very slowly she looked ahead.
Crumbs.
Another wrapper.
Tiny footprints.
Something dragged across the floor.
Samus reached behind her.
Click.
The Paralyzer unfolded into her hand.
Not the Arm Cannon.
Not lethal.
Just cautious.
Very cautious.
The trail continued.
Gallery.
Hallway.
Cargo access.
Samus narrowed her eyes.
Possibilities assembled themselves automatically.
Space Pirate intrusion.
Unknown stowaway.
Predator survival tactic.
Parasite organism.
X mimic.
No.
No scan alerts.
No readings.
Still—cautious.
She moved silently down the corridor.
One step.
Two.
Three.
Cargo bay doors hissed open.
Darkness.
Silence.
Storage lockers lined the walls.
More crumbs.
One locker sat slightly open.
Samus stopped.
No movement.
No sound.
She raised the pistol, slowly approached.
Three steps.
Two.
One.
Hand on the edge.
She prepared herself.
Hostile lifeform.
Alien predator.
Parasite.
Ambush.
Anything.
Everything.
Samus yanked the locker open.
Inside sat a young girl with dark brown skin, chestnut brown hair tied into three ponytails and light blue eyes.
Beside her sat a fluffy white bear…dog…thing.
Korra had frozen completely still.
A protein bar hovered halfway to her mouth.
Naga blinked, tail wagging.
Nobody moved.
Several seconds passed.
Samus stared.
Korra stared.
Naga stared.
Stillness.
Then very slowly Korra lowered the protein bar.
She looked at Samus.
Looked at the Paralyzer.
Looked back.
"...your hut is magic."
Korra pointed vaguely upward.
"The sky got weird."
No response.
Korra hesitated.
"...also we ate some things."
Tiny whine.
Naga sneezed.
Protein crumbs blasted directly across the cargo floor.
Samus looked at the crumbs.
Then at the child.
Then at the enormous white animal.
Then at the opened food containers.
Then back.
Years of experience rapidly attempted to categorize the situation.
Space Pirate attack.
No.
Biological contamination.
No.
Unknown alien event.
No.
Hostile boarding action—
No.
Nothing fit.
Nothing.
Korra offered a small nervous smile.
Tiny wave.
"...hi?"
Then ADAM spoke overhead.
"Samus.”
"Scans indicate your vessel now contains two unauthorized lifeforms."
"Congratulations."
Samus slowly closed her eyes.
Today had somehow gotten worse.
“ADAM,” she began, fatigue edging through her voice, “Turn us around.”
“Apologies, Samus, but I can’t. Warp drive is critically low and near-lightspeed would require several months of travel.”
She rolled her eyes. She was stuck with them wasn’t she?
She turned her gaze back to the girl. “What’s your name, kid?”
“I’m Korra, the Avatar, and you’ve gotta deal with it,” the preteen practically shouted.
“And the dog?”
“She’s Naga, my best friend, she’s a Polar Bear-Dog, not just a dog.”
Happy growl.
“Great,” Samus yawned, “Don’t touch anything, ask when you’re hungry, don’t wake me before 05:00 please.”
The Southern Water Tribe compound had descended into complete chaos.
Not loud, screaming chaos.
Worse.
Organized panic.
Which, in the experience of the White Lotus, was always the more dangerous kind.
Snow whipped through the compound as search teams rushed between buildings carrying lanterns and radios.
One master skidded to a stop outside the command building.
“We checked the southern ridge again. Nothing.”
Another arrived moments later.
“No tracks beyond the storm line.”
A third looked actively pale.
“The harbor teams found nothing either.”
Silence.
Inside the meeting hall, several White Lotus sentries stood around a large map covered in hastily drawn search markers.
Every single one was empty.
At the center of the room, Katara stood with her arms folded tightly inside her parka sleeves.
Externally, she looked calm.
Very calm.
Too calm.
The sort of calm that made experienced masters increasingly nervous.
Across the room, Tonraq was significantly less calm.
“She’s twelve!”
He slammed both hands onto the table hard enough to rattle cups.
“How did you lose my daughter?!”
Nobody answered.
Mostly because nobody had a good answer.
Nearby, Senna looked one step away from personally strangling somebody.
Which was impressive considering she normally carried herself with remarkable dignity.
“Start from the beginning,” she said sharply.
A White Lotus guard swallowed.
“She was last seen entering the stables around midday.”
Tonraq stared. “The stables.”
“Yes, Chief.”
“And nobody checked after that?”
“We did initially but—”
“But what?”
The guard hesitated.
“We believed she remained inside the compound.”
Tonraq slowly closed his eyes. The look on his face suggested he was imagining violence.
Katara intervened before anyone died. “What about the object in the sky?”
Several people turned, one master frowning. “We still don’t know what it was.”
Another added carefully, “Some witnesses described...a large metal structure.”
Tonraq blinked. “A what.”
“Possibly a vessel of some kind.”
“A vessel?”
“Yes.”
“In the sky?”
“Yes.”
Long silence.
Tonraq looked at Katara. She looked back. Both silently reached the same horrifying conclusion simultaneously.
Senna spoke first. “You think she climbed into it.”
Nobody answered.
Because unfortunately—
that sounded exactly like something Korra would do.
One younger sentry nervously raised a hand. “There were...small tracks leading away from the compound.”
Tonraq turned slowly. “And this information became relevant now, because?”
The sentry visibly reconsidered all life choices.
Katara pinched the bridge of her nose. “Could anyone identify where the vessel came from?”
“No.”
“Where it went?”
“No.”
“What it was?”
“No.”
Another long silence.
Outside, the storm continued to howl.
Inside, the White Lotus collectively realized the worst possibility imaginable:
The Avatar had somehow disappeared off the face of the planet.
Tonraq suddenly straightened.
“Get the radios.”
Several people blinked.
“The radios?”
“We’re contacting Republic City.”
A pause.
Then, grimly: “If Korra somehow got herself kidnapped by spirits, pirates, or flying maniacs, I want every ship in the world looking for her.”
One master quietly muttered: “How do you search for a flying metal building?”
Tonraq pointed violently.
“Figure it out!”
Light years away, Korra was hanging upside down in the cockpit seat, Naga culled up on the floor and Samus Aran was regretting the entire trip.