Hoo boy. So after we resumed the chase last issue, it's only fitting that chapter ten open up with some beefcake— Backstory! I meant backstory. Right.

Shortly after smashing his teeth in, Alana began 'Secret Book Club' with Marko at the POW camp— and he loves it. Relationships have been known to latch on to a single commonality (the same goes for friendships). In this case, it's a mutual love of A Night Time Smoke. They've clicked. Marko mentions that it's coming to a close, as he's due for a transfer to the ominous Blacksite. Justifiably freaked (no one ever comes back from there), Alana makes a kneejerk decision; incidentally the best one of her life. She destroys Marko's shackles, tells him to get running. Followed by a Big Damn Kiss.


Damn. Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples' work continues to be splendid and kick-ass. Showing us why our heroes fell in love is a good reminder of what they're fighting for, racing for. It's grand.

So, why not go back to the planetoid/egg thing, where Marko and his mom, Klara, are harassed by crones with upside-down heads? The nasty, useless harridans are frightened off by a flaming gorilla, because of course they are. (I love this comic.)

The incendiary monkey business is courtesy of Izabel, doing her illusion thing. She's thrilled to see Marko, and none too pleased to lay eyes on Klara, the "battle axe" that banished her there. Nobody talks trash like a ghost. Seriously: "You heard me, kneepads. You're lucky I'm not corporeal, or I'd kick your ass up and down this—" Cue the reminder that they're on a colossal egg, one that's starting to hatch.


Back on the ship, Hazel's shed her umbilical stump, owner of a brand new belly button. Dialogue reminds us that oh yeah, Barr's got a bad heart, and not long for this life.

Cue the egg hatching.

The 'Timesuck', a larval creature of "That's No Moon" proportions, is born. It's big enough to have a gravitational pull. Guess where the rocket is?


To make a bad situation worse: The Will closes in, with Slave Girl and Gwendolyn in tow. Gwendolyn's not feeling patient, so she fires a heat-seeking missile at her ex-fiancé. Cripes.

Klara orders evasive maneuvers, and mama Alana belays that. She opts— correctly, I might add— to ram the missile head-on before it arms. It's a submarine tactic, and it works. (This is not the first time Klara's been wrong about something important. She's not exactly winning me over with her charms.)


Over on his ship, The Will is freaking out on Gwendolyn. Since the missile failed to hit the rocket tree— which his sensors can't even detect— the rocket will latch on to the next source of heat: the baby Timesuck. The baby lashes out, ripping a hole through the Will's ship. Hazel's narration idly talks about collateral damage. Then Lying Cat goes flying out into the void.


Last time I checked, cats (Lying and other) needed pesky things like atmosphere and oxygen to survive.

When I first read this issue, I was pissed. I liked Lying Cat. Sure, she was obnoxious, but she was a good partner / sidekick / pet. (I don't know from labels.) She meant well, and you couldn't deny that she was honest.


Now, she's spinning out in the void. I don't know how Vaughan made me care so much about this turquoise feline, but he did. I don't even like cats. But this isn't about me, it's about the comic, and now we're left on a damn cliffhanger.

See you back here soon. I hope.


Casey Jones is a writer. Although not a 'cat person' per se, he would never toss a cat into outer space, like some kind of jerk.