"Oh," Gerfungle managed. "Like that one over there."

If there was one reflex that Duck had developed in response to anything his assistant said, it was a thoughtful pause. It was a reflex that had prevented countless throttlings, sudden decapitations and once, even an imaginative impaling.

After waiting the standard ten-count, Duck turned around and opened his mouth, preparing to visit restrained scorn on Gerfungle, only to have it shut again by the sight of a silver light streaking across the sky.

The trail of sparkling light fizzled as it went, skimming the night like a pebble. It arched overhead and then improbably stopped dead in its tracks. For a moment that seemed a little longer than was standard, it hovered above them and then plummeted straight down.

There was an explosion of sand as the light impacted the ground, the streams of flying dirt curved out like sudden spurts from a silicon fountain. When the explosion was over, the desert held its breath as it recovered from the sudden shock. It was the deliberate silence of creatures unseen and unheard concentrating on keeping things that way.

"Wow," Gerfungle aptly remarked.

Duck gawked at the edge of the newly created crater, just ten feet away from where he sat. His faculties ran about for a moment as they tried to assess the situation. With frantic effort, they regrouped into something resembling coherent thought.

Duck scrambled to his feet, knocking over his telescope in the process. He came within a few steps of the crater before general evolutionary aversion to rushing towards the unknown kicked in. He halted the quick advance and instead compromised with his scientific curiosity by shuffling forward cautiously.

Just as the crater started to open before him, a hand reached over the edge. Duck stumbled into a hurried retreat but bumped into a still advancing Gerfungle, causing them both to fall into a heap.

The disembodied hand dug into the sand and was soon joined by the outline of a head which seemed to be emitting a rather undignified set of grunts.

"This is just great," the head outline said, "Now... umph... you... umph... are stuck in the middle of... umph... a desert."

Duck looked at Gerfungle who returned the vacant stare that was unfortunately not situational. With awkward effort, the two untangled themselves and sidled cautiously up to the crater.

Under the silvery light of the stars, Duck looked down at the rest of the grunting individual. He was a middle aged man in a smouldering robe, with a beard that appeared to be smoking.

"Um," Duck said.

The man looked up at him with raised eyebrows, which Duck saw were smoking too.

"Thank goodness," the man said. "Please, could you help me out?"

Grabbing an arm each, Gerfungle and Duck pulled the trapped man out of the crater. Once up he patted frantically at his tattered robe, smothering the slowly burning bits.

"Thank you gentleman," he said once he was largely flame free. "If not my life, you certainly saved me a lot of effort."

"It was nothing," Gerfungle gushed, not used to displays of gratitude.

"Walter White," the newly introduced Walter said extending his hand.

"I'm No Muun Duck and this is Gerfungle."

"Pleasure," Walter said, shaking Duck's hand.

Duck smiled and nodded as the gears in his brain began to turn slowly and not without a slight squeak. To survive on the Globe it was important to be able to think on your feet lest you end up attempting to do so while hanging upside down over a volcano while the locals chant to their deity or omnipotent being of choice. You never quite knew what you might come across on a day out, be it a cranky werewolf with alopecia or a god that might have just popped up to see the look on a dedicated agnostic's face. The key was choosing your reaction with care.

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