Regret Chapter 9
#9 of STARFOX-6: Reflections of REGRET
Chapter -9-
"Two Lonely Years"
TWENTY-TWO MONTHS later...
Kursed sauntered through the Imperial Palace holding the head of a great owl by its feathery hair. Her eyes were cold; her face was stern upon approach to the throne. Guards lined the left side, impressed with the bounty she brought. She alighted the small, carpeted stairs, approaching the King and Queen of Tempas II. "As you requested, the head of Rancheska Mowens on a silver platter." She dropped the still-fresh head at the feet of the monarch couple. "Sorry. I'm all out of silver platters."
The King stood up, drawing back his royal robes and placed his scepter on his throne. He knelt adjacent to the head of the great owl and cupped either side of its head with his large palms. The gelatinous monarch's blob-like hands shifted in shape until thumbs were created, which he used to open the eyelids. He took a moment to stare into the eyes of his dead nemesis. "I am beyond impressed, little blue-furred woman creature. How do you wish your payment bestowed upon you?"
"Precious metals - preferably ones that don't rust. Like the silver mentioned in the platter you wanted for your new mantle piece." She nodded towards the remains of the owl.
The King summoned a guard and handed over the head, whose neck had been cauterized shut. The guard carried the head away and disappeared in a doorway to the right of the throne area. The tall being turned back to her and lifted his scepter. "What does your kind call this metal?"
She took the scepter and inspected it carefully. "Lylat calls this platinum and, while heavy, it will do quite nicely; I actually prefer it to gold or silver when possible. I've noticed that every system I visit considers gold, silver and platinum to be expensive, rare and worth a great deal because it doesn't rust or corrode. Also I'll need supplies for my ship. I'm leaving the system after today."
"I'm terribly sorry to hear that, Miss Kursed. This governing body will not forget your efforts. Without you, this political regime would go into a different direction due to the..."
"Save it. I'm just doing a job. I don't want any praise. The money and the supplies will do nicely." She cut her gaze to the effeminate lavender mass draped in royal robes, sitting on her throne in silence. Her eyes moved back to the masculine sepia-brown one standing before her. He sank back into his throne and undulated. The low resonance of tone was like soundless shouting and she could hear words in her mind. Moments later, her ears perked at the sound of flapping.
On four legs, with the tail and mane of a lion combined with the wings and head of an eagle, an enormous gryphon entered the chamber. Colossal paws with talons clicked on the tile floor. Kursed turned about to see the regal creature approach. She felt an awkward sensation of reverence about the majestic beast and stiffened up out of respect for it.
Its beak opened and in an eloquent dialect and tone, it spoke to her. Using her telepathic abilities, she heard the gryphon's words in full understanding. "Salutations, Bounty Hunter. I am the keeper of the treasury. Please allow me to escort you from the Royal Palace. Perhaps I can provide you with information, update your star charts or make you comfortable before your departure?"
"Lead the way," she murmured. Her eyes watched the fantastic creature pad through the palace and she followed it in silence.
Once they were outside of the palace, the gryphon said, "What interesting things have you come across on your travels, huntress?"
"I've been to several systems. I'm from a world known as Cerinia but it does not exist any longer. I stayed in the Lylat System for a while but I've worn out my welcome."
"Ah, the Lylat System... It was once called something else. Many, many years ago, it was the home of a race known as the Krazoa."
"I know of them. They're extinct, much like my own race. However, their world is intact."
"I'm terribly sorry for your loss and... yes, the extinction of the Krazoa is common knowledge. They were incredible and they valued purity and heart over all things. I've been there."
"You have?" She tilted her head.
"It's beautiful. I found myself on that world. With the help of the spirits, there, I regained a piece of my lost humanity. It's a place to become restored and whole. The dying can be regenerated; the spiritually downtrodden can find solace. You just have to know where to look."
She nodded slowly as though unsure of his words. "I suppose. I do remember vividly the sensation of dying. I was locked within a glass prism. With every passing day I felt myself being drained. Then a surfeit of Krazoa spirits penetrated the crystalline structure. As it dissolved around me, I felt incredibly alive. They saved my life, as did the person who led them to me."
"You must be very thankful for that person's intervention of your death." His voice was melodically baritone and kind. "What brings you to hunt for a living?"
"I have nothing else. I'm otherwise alone in this universe. It's simply a means to survive. On rare occasions my actions bring enough happiness to others than I am able to live vicariously through their bliss, even if only momentarily. These short-lived spikes of my endorphins make things bearable. Some people have their guilty pleasures - a chocolate chip cookie, a cigarette to calm their nerves, a stiff drink to take the edge off... I've tried various ways to find happiness but I am dead inside... so I'm for hire to do the deeds that others cannot... and surely those things occasionally bring happiness to the client."
"I... see."
"You should have seen how happy the king was when I dropped the head of his nemesis at his feet. He was overcome with intense joy and, in that moment, I felt alive again."
"You're telepathic...?"
"How else do you think I can speak your language?"
"I assumed you were bilingual."
She shook her head. "I don't need to learn another language. I reciprocate your vocabulary through proximity to your mind."
"And you cannot find inner happiness?"
"It doesn't exist. My heart is dead inside."
"Then you should ponder a return trip to home of the Krazoa. I assure you that their world was once known throughout the galaxy as a place to be restored. It had this fantastic reputation for a very good reason, Huntress."
Kursed licked her lips pensively then offered a nod and quietly repeated what he had said earlier. "I see."
"I'm quite a worldly and cultured man. You've made the King and Queen very happy - is there anything I can do for you?"
"No, I'm afraid not. I'm between jobs so I'll return to Kew. I'm hunting an elusive man named..."
"Octoman?"
Her eyes widened and she probed his mind, seeing that he had indeed heard of the target. "What information do you have on him?"
"He brainwashed Rancheska Mowens, the man you killed today. Mowens was a peaceful man who became aggressive and dangerous. We tried tirelessly to find a way to cure him but without destroying the link between the two... it's impossible."
She lifted her paws and began to rub her eyes. "I killed an innocent man?"
"I'm afraid so, although he was dangerous. He killed one of the royal children and sought to murder the rest of them. That would have ended the royal sovereign line. The King and Queen are currently at the stage in their life where they're unable to produce further heir. Octoman is on the planet you've mentioned, Kew. Certainly you can track him down with your telepathy."
"He's using technology to block it, I'm afraid."
"Before you leave, I will ask the royal surgeon to remove the antenna placed on Rancheska Mowen's head, behind his ear. That is how Octoman transmits his orders to his subjects. He'll fly into a system and contact his subject, give them a list of commands then return to his hideout on Kew. Perhaps by reverse engineering the antenna and tracking the frequency, you'll be able to locate Octoman's ship and, in turn, Octoman himself."
Kursed's eyes widened. "Splendid. You are wise with information. I am impressed."
"Just promise me when Octoman is dead, you'll return to the homeworld of the Krazoa. Such a beautiful woman should not be so cold in her heart. Restore yourself. Perhaps you'll finally find inner peace."
She frowned and looked away. "No promises... but I'll consider it. I've forgotten what inner peace is like. I've forgotten what inner happiness feels like."
"I assure you that the Krazoa spirits can make you remember. That's part of restoring your heart and soul - that's part of the regeneration. Let them help you remember what you've forgotten, huntress."
"Thank you for your help. Octoman will not harm the citizens of this system or any other neighboring systems anymore."
"He's a clever foe. If you're doing this alone, do your best to take care. He'll undoubtedly have many brainwashed guards if you confront him one-on-one. Also, if you trail his ship, stay behind him. He uses a weapon that creates an electromagnetic pulse beam. It discharges unshielded energy sources. If he gets behind you, he can fire that beam and it will enter your ship through the engine booster and you'll be powerless. He's a very dangerous man."
"I appreciate all that you've told me - I'll be prepared next time I cross paths with him. Unfortunately, I am alone. I have no help. I'm resolved to stop him on my own if I must. But what of you? Are you available to help me stop him?"
"I wish I could. However, I cannot leave this world at this time. Please understand that I would certainly assist you if I was able." The gryphon lowered his eyes to the ground. "You see, the central star of this system, combined with something in the air on this world... it creates a reaction in the body that naturally stops the spread of cancer. If you stay on this world long enough, it has the power to reverse most types of cancer naturally. I came here because I was on my deathbed. If I leave it will spread through my system like wildfire and I would die. I'm a prisoner of my health and must stay here for a very long time. It will take decades to reverse the damage enough that I could leave this world. For now, staying here is what keeps me alive."
"I... see." She frowned then placed a paw behind his feathery head and scratched gently behind his ears. "If it makes you feel better... you have helped me. Without your assistance, Octoman would continue to gain momentum. Thanks to you, I'll put a stop to him."
She placed her paws on the dash panel and leered at distant Kew. It was about time she had a lead on Octoman. After about two years of chasing him, she finally had a good lead. She'd recently learned he had acquired technology belonging to Andross that prohibited her from using her telepathy to find him. Now things would change - she had information on his actual whereabouts.
The Cloud Runner, in desperate need of a new paint job, streaked through the abyss. The planet began to enlarge before her. Kursed's ears flickered and she perked up, sensing someone else in her ship. "Darius, is that you?"
He carefully made his way through the crawlspace behind her cockpit seating. "A man my age shouldn't be on all fours," he murmured then came to settle on his haunches adjacent to her chair. "Finished your work on Tempas II? What brings you back to our system, my dear Krystal?"
"I told you I changed my name."
"That matters not." He saw her grimace. The well-dressed badger watched her carefully, a frown marring his brow. "Very well. Kursed it is. Needless to say, you're skating a fine line. I understand you're using your clairvoyance to kill and capture targets for money. I respect that most of your jobs include criminals but the small percentage of political assassinations and other various innocent deaths or kidnappings... that's disconcerting to say the very least. For example, handing the king of Parawa over to those bandits was very distasteful."
She glowered at the watcher. "Update your precious records, Mister Vai. That king became ruler by lying about his bloodline. Those bandits were survivors of the original bloodline thought to be killed off by enemies of the state two decades prior. Those bandits were benevolent people who lived as criminals only because of their heritage."
He eyed her suspiciously. "I was not aware of such."
"Obviously." She turned her attention back to her instrument panel. "Where are those Cerinian survivors you told me about two years ago? Those are my people and I wish to be reunited with them. Don't make me go over your head and pester your supervisor."
"You seriously underestimate our hierarchy system, my dear. Please understand that that we are not in charge of one another... we are in charge of our targets. You're a special case, as the ruler of Cerinia - your bloodline comes from two of the most powerful telepaths hailing from that world... you're the offspring of those people. You have abilities far beyond your own wildest imagination. I've lived through the lives of two others before you... I'm considered a veteran in this line of work. I was hand selected to be your watcher, Kursed of the Cardinal Sun."
She scoffed disdainfully. "The Cardinal Sun tribe was the name that became a title. It was my surname but they no longer exist so I do not need a surname."
"Unless you marry."
"Which I won't," she snapped. "Why else do you think I've chosen this new name? It describes my heart, my soul and my life. Whoever elected you to watch over me... that is the individual whom I seek."
"Why? They don't watch the other Cerinians. You would have to discover who their watchers are and present your case to that person. I do not know of their watchers and do not have access to their records until those Cerinians are dead. Posthumous records are made public. Current records are kept private so as to ensure target-watcher confidentiality. We wouldn't want another race to come in and steal information about people we currently watch, after all."
"A race of voyeurs and hunters - you're sick, the whole lot of you."
"My apologies that you've been insulted. I understand that some races live in ways that other races would find offensive. But clairvoyant races must be kept in check to ensure they do not threaten the lives of innocent beings in other systems."
"Are you married?" Her eyes were on one of the rings he wore. She wasn't sure if the rings were for decoration or if they had symbolic meaning like in Lylat.
He nodded. "She passed away from an errant target; it's rare that a clairvoyant target catches a watcher and even rarer that the target kills his or her watcher. I've not remarried; my children are grown up and have families, who have their own young. You're the youngest target I've ever watched. This is also my first time breaking the rules. My first two targets never knew I existed. Then again, they never had your prowess, either. Your potential worries me, which is why I want to see you take the right paths in life."
She eyed him momentarily. "I... I sense you were very emotional when she lost her life."
Darius immediately looked away. "Again, your potential worries me. Telepaths shouldn't be able to read our species."
"Make me a promise."
His brows furrowed. "Excuse me?" Their eyes met. He lifted his chin but kept his eyes on hers. "Very well; what are the terms of this undertaking?"
"If I ever bare a child... I want you to watch them. As a family man, I trust that you'll do a good job."
"My job isn't to interfere."
"And yet you have. So I trust you. If I ever have a child, I want you to watch that child. Promise me."
"With whom would you have the child?"
She gritted her teeth. "Fair enough. Thank you for reminding me why I've chosen this new name and my new path." She reached for her flight yoke and drew it to herself. The dashboard panels changed from a soft blue glow to a dull green one.
"Wait..." He moved a bit closer to her, careful of his lack of space in the cockpit area. "If you have a child I promise to be the watcher. But please choose the father wisely. I would hate to have to dispatch an errant telepath, heir to the Cerinian monarchy, just because the father passed on tendencies for dark deeds."
Her brows lifted, somewhat causing her tiara to shift upwards. "You would hate to have to do that, hmm? Sounds like you're starting to get in touch with your emotions after such a long career of voyeurism. What's changed? Are you suggesting that you're starting to become sentimental about me?"
"Don't be daft," he murmured. His eyes cut to the left and he frowned. He pondered how to answer her question.
"The next words out of your mouth will be a lie. So hold your tongue."
Darius' eyes widened. "How were you able to sense that from me?"
She gazed back at the enlarging heavenly body. "I didn't. I saw it in your eyes. I may not be able to read your thoughts but that doesn't mean I'm not perceptive in other ways. You have a tell - you look away to the left before you say something to try and shut me up. Either be honest with me or don't talk to me and resume your watching from afar. I have no respect for liars."
"To be honest, yes I've become sentimental about you." He sighed and lowered his gaze to the deck plates. "I was your father's watcher. I became your watcher out of sheer coincidence. Because you were the last ruler of an extinct race, I was chosen to watch you because of my experience and my track record. I've never heard of a watcher who knew his target from before her birth, then watched her grow into a mature woman. I've never known a watcher to feel worry when their target is hurting, injured, in danger or anything else for that matter. I've never known a watcher to feel proud of a target for making the right choices in life. However, my race typically only watches people from around puberty onwards, because that's when most races' abilities manifest themselves. Cerinia was different and Kew has never had to dispatch a Cerinian. Your race was the most mature telepathic culture we've ever experienced. However, your race also didn't leave home very often and, so, because they were content to stay amongst themselves... there was never the potential for a situation."
She pushed the flight yoke back into a forward position, reactivating autopilot. The instruments and visual displays changed to a vibrant shade of neon blue. Kursed turned to face him and tilted her head. Some of the white beads in her hair clinked together as locks of her bangs swept to the left. "Do you think your unprofessional attachment is because you watched me grow up while standing in my father's shadow?"
"I deduce as much." He shook his head. "And now I will watch your future offspring, should you wish to conceive. You have my word. Please choose your mate carefully."
"Who would want me?"
"Should you ever cross paths with Fox McCloud, promise me that you'll at least try to connect with him. All I want is a promise that you'll consider him."
"I'm not running back to that man. He would have to cross paths with me, because I refuse to deliver myself to anyone." The bright blue display panels dimmed to a softer tone like that of a screen saver.
"If you happen across him, just promise me that you will consider it."
"Deal." She reached for her flight yoke again. It slid on the track until it was in place, locked in front of her lap. The dash changed back to a dull green and the ship came under her control once more. "You're getting old or losing your touch..." Her voice lowered. "I can sense that you're pleased without looking at your smug little smile."
Darius looked away again. "Apparently your young race was capable of far more than previously conceived. I hypothesize that by never having to leave your cozy corner of the galaxy, Cerinians never needed to truly push their frontal lobe. If you continue at this rate, you'll have learned how to read us before your mortality age."
She snorted. "You mean before I'm elderly? How old are you, Darius Vai?"
"I'm two hundred sixty-six years old in Cornerian rotations." He used the comparison of Corneria time to segue into his next statement. "You should start living by those rotations of time and return to Fox McCloud. I would worry less."
"Hah! You're a crummy matchmaker, old man." She pondered his words for a moment then asked, "How old does your race live? Will you live long enough to watch my children, should I have any?"
"We live three hundred fifty years if we're lucky. Typically our bodies are unable to handle that age but there have been rare occasions. For the most part, we live between two hundred ninety and three hundred twenty years in that Cornerian mathematical formula. Actually, Kursed, Kew's revolution cycles are almost identical to Corneria. Our year is only about thirty-six hours difference. However, after three hundred years that would add up."
"Not by much. Very well, then. If the oracle was right about me baring a son (Epilogue - Reflections of Krystal) then you will watch him when he comes of age or when I die. Or, simply watch us both."
"The Cerinian Oracle was the most powerful telepath our species has ever documented. Her prophecies always came true. Every premonition we've ever managed to ascertain has been validated as fact. However, we noticed she stopped doing fortunes for your race at one point. She knew Cerinia would end. She also had a startling one for you."
"Yes..." Kursed kept her eyes on the world in front of her. "She told me that I would hit a fork in the road and she told me she couldn't see the other paths. She gave me my fortune and told me what my life would be like if I remained pure of heart. But I'm sullied and jaded, now. I don't care about happiness anymore. I'll never regain my purity of spirit."
He placed his palm on her shoulder, one of the very few times he'd ever physically touched her. "According to our records, there may be a way. Consider going to Sauria, back in the Lylat System, after you've concluded your business on my homeworld." He gave her a reassuring squeeze then crawled back into the cargo section of her shuttle and disappeared. She could no longer sense his presence nearby and the reflections of his mind were too far and densely crowded on Kew, far below her. However... she did sense... something familiar yet far away... It was akin to looking at a distant star, alone, in the dark of night. She knew it was there but couldn't tell anything about it without a telescope or being closer.
"This is quite a ways away," said Fox, arms folded. "Okay so the jump gate put us in range of Kew but... it's on the other side of the system. It's at least twenty-four hours travel, making best time. We waited TWO YEARS to get this job, I'm really getting sick of waiting."
Falco Lombardi placed his arm around Fox's shoulder and pointed to a twinkling marble from where they stood on the observation deck. "Kew is right there. It's not going anywhere. It'll be there tomorrow, just a lot closer, right?" He chuckled and patted Fox's shoulder in a masculine way. "You'll be thirty-freaking-five years old when we arrive. How's it feel to be old enough to actually run for leader of Corneria? Now you're officially old enough to do whatever you want. In six years you'll be the age Peppy was when we defeated Andross. You should look up a girl on Corneria and start having some kids, man."
Fox laughed heartily, glad his friend changed the subject. "Okay, I know I've been a sourpuss for a while... but good grief, Falco."
"No, man. Katt and I... we're talking again, Foxie. I think I might actually pop the question to her soon. I'll be thirty-six years old in ten weeks. Guess what? She still looks like she's in her twenties. I think it's about time I stop making her chase romance before she finds it somewhere else. We ain't getting' any younger, McCloud."
"I've got bad luck with women. First Fara died, now Krystal is dead. I don't like the thought of outliving all my loved ones. I think Miyu is a starship captain now, so I know she won't want to get back together. She's got a career to think about. I also don't want to notch another 'dead girlfriend' on my bedpost. Two is more than enough."
"You wouldn't, though! She's the only one who ever lived through the death-curse of the great and deadly Fox McCloud." Falco chuckled and shook his head.
Fox shrugged his friend away. "I heard she's married, now. Falco, I'm happy for you and Katt. I'm happy for Slippy and Amanda's marriage. I'm happy for Lucy Hare, who married someone last week - I forget his name. It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all... well, I loved and lost plenty of times so I'm all set. Look, it just isn't in the cards for me."
"You're just too shy. You were shy as hell around Krystal."
"She could read my every thought, man. I was timid because I wasn't sure if I was making an ass out of myself around her. But I stopped being bashful when we started dating. When I asked her to come back to the team I wasn't red in the face or modest or whatever else... I was blunt and I was honest with her. I told her I wanted her back. But now... I killed her."
"What?!" Falco threw his arms up in the air. "I thought you protected her by kicking her off the team and keeping her out of danger. That was your reason for doing it, right? Now you killed her? What gives? Why this sudden change in mentality?"
Fox shook his head. "I should have kept her where I could protect her. I had it all wrong back then. I wasn't around and she left Lylat to do some mission for Corneria... some diplomatic job... and she never came back. They abruptly lost communication with her after only three weeks out of the system. Peppy said they had a private memorial. Bill was there; Peppy and Lucy were there. Just a few others, including Panther... but he believes she's not dead. He made some stupid speech at the funeral gathering about how she would have telepathically contacted the great love of her life, Panther Caruso, if she were truly about to expire. That guy is too full of himself."
"Man, Fox... how are you going to go blaming yourself? She left you for Panther. Then she runs off and gets herself into trouble. Why is that your fault? Seriously, I think you actually like blaming yourself. You blame yourself for Fara's death. You blame yourself for not killing Andross soon enough every time he reappears. You blame yourself for Krystal's death... Guess what? The world doesn't revolve around Fox McCloud. Fox McCloud doesn't decide who lives and who dies. She got herself killed out here. We're going to find Octoman and avenge her. Then we're going to go home, get paid and I'm going to propose to Katt Monroe."
Fox looked down and rubbed the backside of his head. "Yeah... you're right. I'm sorry, Falco. And I really am proud of you for wanting to get married and have a family while you're still young. I mean, you're almost middle aged, after all."
"MIDDLE AGED?" he shouted, again throwing his arms into the air. "Fox, I'm going to live to, like, one hundred years old. I won't be middle-aged until I'm, at the very least, fifty. Then I'm going to be the least mature fifty-year-old in Lylat. So whatever. You'll die from old age before I will."
Fox grinned. "Not on your life. If my father weren't killed, he'd still be flying. The McCloud family has a long history of being in good health at an old age. Just one problem... we're too stupid to stay out of other people's wars."
"You gotta go where the money is."
McCloud nodded earnestly. "Isn't that the truth..." His eyes panned across the unfamiliar star system. He sighed softly. "I'll be thirty-five tomorrow. I sure as hell don't feel old. Maybe its because I've cheated death so many times that I feel immortal. Then again, I've lost the love of my life twice. Now it's to the point where I just hate being lonely. Everyone's got somebody. I should have joined old man Pepper in the Lonely Hearts Club band. Life and girls just passed me by, Falco... now all I can do is sit back and enjoy the show, you know? Of everyone I can think of, I only know two bachelors - Bill Grey and John Pepper. I'd say Panther, too, but I think he's got a girl on the side for every day of the week."
"I thought you got your confidence back? What's with this bullcrap defeatist attitude?"
With a grim chuckle Fox nodded his head in agreement. "Again, you're right. Look, if I find the right girl, I'd be all over her in a heartbeat. I miss making out with Krystal. I'm not going to lie - she was amazing. I guess that's to be expected from a woman who can read a man's mind, but I mean... this whole loneliness thing sucks. I'm not being closed minded to love. I just don't see it happening with Miyu or some random girl back on Corneria. At this point, you might as well see if you can find the old poster girl you pinned up back on the old Great Fox. Get it out of storage, dust it off and put that thing back up on the wall."
Falco rubbed the bottom of his beak and shook his head slowly. "Nah. Amanda wouldn't like it. Katt wouldn't like it. I mean, hell, I was surprised that Miyu and Fay tolerated that. It was pretty tacky, huh? But damn she was a good lookin' girl eighteen years ago." (Chapter 19, Reflections of Fox McCloud)
"Seventeen," murmured Fox. "I remember the day I took it down." (Chapter 2 re-write, Reflections of Krystal)
"For Krystal," said Falco. "Then we had the ship renovated and it was too old and starting to fade... so I put it into storage."
"It was autographed. I'm surprised you didn't sell it when we were broke."
"Nah. That thing was awesome. I could never sell it." Falco folded his arms. "You really missed your chance on that one. That girl was ready to give you the smoochin' of your life. When I asked her to sign it for the team, she TOLD me to TELL you that she would make you the happiest man ever. She'd have been safe on Corneria, making movies. You should have been all over that girl! But nah. She's married with teenaged kids and stuff. You lost yer chance, Foxie."
"She's also divorced and married two other times and has a kid from the third husband. She's an actress. She's married three of her costars according to the tabloids. I like watching dramas, but I don't want to live in one. I'm glad I didn't hook up with the actress." He shoved his paws into his pockets. "I'd better get some sleep. I can't wait to look for Octoman, tomorrow. After all this damn time, waiting for Corneria to let us take the gig... it'll feel nice to finally find that guy and put him down. If I found out that he really did kill Krystal, I'll make him regret it. I'll bring him back to Lylat in pieces."
"We should bring him back to Lylat in pieces _any_how. Remember what that guy did to Slippy?"
"Yeah... he did some sort of head-game brainwashing crap. No doubt about it, I'll ruin his day when I find him... but I'm not going to dwell on it right now or I won't sleep. If I don't sleep, I won't be at my best. Good night." Fox turned then abruptly stopped. "Oh, and thanks for the talk. I'm feeling a little better already."
Falco glanced at his wristwatch. "Well, it's technically midnight Cornerian Capital City standard time. So Happy Birthday, Fox." Lombardi reached into his jacket and said, "I wanted to keep you up this long because I'm impatient. I hate being in a holding pattern and I didn't want to wait until tomorrow." He withdrew a sizable box stealthily concealed inside of his new aviator jacket. "I didn't wrap it. I don't worry about that sissy crap." He passed it to the vulpine pilot, trying not to smile or look excited. Instead, he folded his arms and looked around as though he was too cool to care what his friend would think of the gift.
Fox noticed a piece of tape on the side where a hint of wrapping paper was stuck. "But I see you gave it the ole' college try and couldn't get it right, huh?"
A dry chuckle - Falco nodded. "Yeah, it's the thought that counts, right?"
McCloud stepped away from the observation window and opened the latch on the gun box. Inside was a handcrafted special edition Arspace-Ballistics Combat Direct Express blaster pistol. The case had the letters A. B. C. D. E. in calligraphic scrawl emblazoned on the inside of its lid. The magnum-powered weapon had an increased capacity power cell in the handle, customized sights and a heavily modified barrel. The Star Fox logo was etched and hand-painted on the handle with a recoil compensator highlighted with the same coloring.
"I figure... since I taught you how to shoot a gun when we were still kids. You know? It just made sense. You should use it on Octoman."
Fox lifted the weapon from its case and gazed down the sights. "Damn, man. This is a really thoughtful gift, Falco. It feels solid as hell. You had someone put a lot of work into this."
"Notice the custom paintjob. It's not your typical nickel-plating like others of this model. I told'em that it had to match those sunshades you always wear. That's why it has the..." He pointed to a handwritten tag inside the gun case. The words, "Special Edition brushed onyx polish and etched StarFox logo with custom paintjob," were written on the tag but the price was cut off the bottom. "Yeah... I wanted my leader to look awesome, not like a big moron waving around some wimpy blaster. We're going to be on a new world, you're going to be seen and judged for the first time - you gotta look awesome."
"It looks awesome, alright." Fox holstered the weapon, delighted that it fit on his belt. He reached for Falco's hand and the two shook then Fox hooked his free arm around his friend's neck and patted him firmly on his shoulder blades. "Real manly gift, bud. I really appreciate this."
"Just take down Octoman with it and I'll be happy, sure shot."
"You going to invite me to your wedding?"
"I'd make you my best man if I could, Fox. But I think we're just going to have a quiet one... justice of the peace. No use making a big deal out of something like that... she has no family, I have no family... we were gang members and most of the people we knew are dead, retired or wanted by the law. I'm not into that big fancy crap. I don't need to be wearing a tux. Maybe if I found the right person ten years ago... sure. But now... I'm just giving in to Katt and we're just going to do our little thing and be happy with it. Besides, this way we can do things below the radar. The media still remembers Star Fox and she doesn't have a lot of people who like her... you know? She doesn't want a big magnet."
"Fair enough." The two fast friends recited their old academy handshake then Fox left the observation deck and headed for his quarters.
A voice came from out of nowhere , startling Fox. He sat up and looked around the dark den then blinked. He wasn't sure to whom the voice belonged but his mind cleared quickly, part of his personal training. The sound came again from the intercom panel set into the nearby wall. "Fox, it's time. Let's ruin this guy's day. You up?" The voice got quieter, as though Falco must have had his finger on the SEND button from the bridge, but was talking over his shoulder to someone else. "...I think he might be in the shower. He's not responding."
A long groan accompanied Fox's stretch. He reached over and mashed his thumb in on the reply button and said, "I'm here, man. Must have been in REM sleep or something. I'm up."
After a few seconds, Falco's voice returned to the panel on the wall. "Hey! Look, I talked to Katt... I'll tell you what... you can still come to the union ceremony thing. Just don't go renting a tux or anything."
Again, McCloud yawned and stretched. His tail bristled up and his ears lay back. His whiskers smoothed back along his muzzle and he pushed his arms outwards and curled his toes. Fox dropped his arms back to his sides then licked his lips and lifted a foot, pushing the button on the wall with his heel. "I need to shower and do my stretches. What's for breakfast?"
"Amanda made you some sort of birthday breakfast. Don't worry, it's not some vegetarian thing. Worry about looking pretty later; she doesn't want it to get cold. Meet us in the rec room."
Two hours later...
Fox scrubbed his fingertips into the wet fur behind his ears then backed out of the shower stream and tapped the touch screen control panel to turn off the shower. He braced himself on either side of the small stall and shook hard, spraying the tiles with excess water. Stepping out of the booth, he reached for a hand towel and dried his face. The small room had metallic grating on either side. When he stood in front of the slats, hot dry air rushed out, fluff-drying his fur. Meanwhile, he continued to towel his face and behind his ears then he stretched.
The hot air lasted for a moment then the cycle ended. He reached for his clothes and dressed. Fox moved to his left foot, hobbled a bit and pulled his pants up over his right, then switched, balancing on his right foot and pulling the fabric up over his left. He pulled his shirt on then his jacket and, finally, his gear belt.
"Even on his birthday, the great hero puts on his pants one leg at a time." Slippy stepped in through the doorway and handed Fox a small gift-wrapped box with a bow on the top. "Amanda wrapped it for me. I'm no good at that stuff."
The pilot chuckled and took the small box from his friend. "I wonder if Falco's future gifts will be wrapped by Katt." He pulled on the bow then ripped through the gift-wrap, stuffing the crumbled paper into his jacket pocket without thinking about it. He opened the box and tilted his head. Inside was a booklet with the team's old red logo on it - the galloping fox with wings. The red silhouette was glossy over the matte finish cover. He took it from the box and opened to the first page.
It was a photograph of the original team. Fox suddenly felt sentimental. As he went through pictures of himself and his team, he was inundated with a flood of memories. On page eight there was a photograph of him carrying Fara Phoenix in his arms. His heart ached but was warmed at the same time. The next page had another photo with Fara. She was wearing his mother's red dress and in the background was a shiny red sports car. He went to the next one. The original photograph that wound up on the front page of a newspaper showed Fox and his team at the medal presentation ceremony with a young John Pepper face to face with the team.
He licked his lips then went to the next picture. It showed Fox in the GreatFox hallway with Miyu on his shoulders, using her paws to cover Fox's eyes. He recalled the incident fondly - it was a team trust-building exercise proposed by Peppy. She covered his eyes and directed him through the hall as fast as he could carry her without falling or hitting the walls. It was the night Fox kissed her for the first time. (Reflections of Fox McCloud, Chapter 20)
The next picture showed another angle from the same race. Falco had Fay on his shoulders and was racing alongside of Fox and Miyu. The girls were trying to push one another as the boys, beneath them, ran nearly side-by-side. In the image, Fay had her paws out as if to ward off Miyu as she ducked beneath a light fixture, mounted to the corridor's ceiling. Fox's tail was horizontal behind him from his hurried pace.
McCloud looked up from the book with a chuckle. "God, did we really look that ridiculous during the race?" He saw Slippy smile quietly then his eyes lowered back to the scrapbook. He flipped to the next page, which depicted an image of Fox and Miyu looking smitten with one another. In the background, Slippy Toad and Fay Spaniel-Weldon were fixing some metallic object in the background. The page to the right was from the same afternoon, with Miyu's palm outstretched, blocking part of the camera lens. Fox was seen in the background, between Miyu's large fingertips in the foreground. He looked happy, his eyes bright and his muzzle open in the middle of laughing.
Fox turned the page, seeing a picture of Falco, Slippy and himself washing the Arwings. He remembered getting into an argument with his pilots shortly after Fay and Miyu parted ways with the team. Peppy was angry at the trio's behavior and ordered them to wash the Arwings by hand as punishment. Again, Fox looked up at Slippy and quirked a brow. "I had no idea Peppy took a picture of us doing that."
"I know, right? He acted like he was so f-f-freaking mad that day... then he takes pictures of us washing the Arwings as if he was amused by it."
Fox continued through the book. Before long, the pictures consisted of Fox, Peppy and Slippy. Then there was one of Fox standing in front of a shiny jukebox, making a selection. In the next picture, the jukebox had a dent in the side and ROB's reflection could be seen in the glass panel on the front. Two aluminum cans were crushed and lying on the ground besides the machine's base. The next picture showed Peppy, Fox, Falco, Slippy and Krystal on the bridge. They all posed together for ROB. The deck panels were clear of soda cans and pizza boxes and there was a clean spot on the bulkhead in the background. Fox grinned, remembering it was where the tacky poster of a vixen once hung. "Where did you find all of these?"
"I was clearing out ROB's internal storage files and backing up the data on an external drive... I opened one of the files at random and it was a photograph from a month before we got the Sauria job... Amanda suggested I make a scrapbook of memories for your birthday. At first I was kinda' against it. It sounded a little cheesy but... I see she had a good idea. Keep going."
Fox nodded then lowered his eyes back to the photographs, going through several with him and Krystal, Falco, Peppy and a few of Slippy. There was a photo of the GreatFox with most of its lights out and loose wires lying on the deck. The next photograph was the same angle at the same place, but it was taken after the refit. The ship looked brand new and absolutely beautiful.
There was a photo of Krystal in her bodysuit, Falco cleaning a weapon, Fox and Krystal in a training spar with padded protection gear and a picture of Krystal riding Tricky during a vacation. The next picture showed Fox in swimming trunks, standing in the clear waters of Cape Claw. The one after that depicted him with an arm up, about to throw a large ball back at the dinosaur. The next seven photos were from the same vacation. One depicted Krystal in a striking Cornerian bathing suit.
After that, there was a color print that wound up in the newspaper, which showed the team carrying children. Everyone in the photo looked filthy. Corneria was smoldering in the background. In the foreground was a metal leg from a dead Aparoid. (Reflections of The Future, chapter 2)
The next picture was of Fox and Krystal in a hospital room with Fox recovering from a surgery on his shoulder. The next one caused Fox to freeze. He didn't know anyone had taken a picture of him proposing to Krystal (Reflections of the Future, epilogue). His heart didn't know how to react. She looked so happy, receiving his ring. It was one of the most awkward things he'd ever come to ponder later on... He recalled that she didn't quite grasp the concept of what the ring meant, only that it was a symbol of love. He had to explain it to her later on and, a year later, when he pushed her off the team, he remembered that she threw the ring at him as a symbol of her anger. But in the photograph, the captured moment was so perfect and everyone was so happy.
The next several pictures displayed Fox and Krystal together, happy and close. There were shots of them snuggled up in front of the observation deck window. There were pictures of the couple competing in simulators. Then, all at once, there was a photograph of Fox, ROB and the command deck of the Great Fox. It was taken from a webcam to re-validate Fox's piloting license. He was alone in that photograph. The Star Fox team had come apart.
The next picture fast-forwarded to the team, minus Peppy, standing on Corneria and receiving an award for defeating the Anglars. A white paw was at the left edge of the photograph, Bill Grey's shoulder and arm was on the far right. "Look at that... General Peppy Hare's hand and Lieutenant Colonel Bill Grey's arm. Too bad the photographer wasn't a little further back - they could have gotten all of us in the shot."
Slippy tilted his head a bit. "I think Bill is a full-bird Colonel, now."
Fox nodded. "You're right. I forgot - he was promoted over a year ago." He lowered his eyes to the photos again. Krystal was in the next two but she looked distracted. After that, the rest of the photographs depicted Fox, Slippy, Falco, Amanda or Rob. Krystal wasn't in any of the recent ones. He turned to the last one and saw himself, last night, opening Falco's gift. He quirked a brow and looked up at Slippy in confusion. "...How?"
"ROB took it from the security cameras. I let him in on my plan to make this thing for you. He snapped that picture from the bridge and said the photo book should end on a happy note; you looked happy in that last one."
Fox smiled a bit and looked down at the last photograph and nodded. "Yeah. It's a nice gun." His smile brightened further and he hugged his friend. "Thanks for the trip down memory lane. Let's hope it wasn't my life flashing before my eyes before I go on this mission, huh?"
The frog laughed and shook his head. "Well, if you die, I'll put the pictures on the internet for the whole Lylat System to see. Then all your fangirls will see the three good-looking gals you dated. They'll all get jealous and cry themselves to sleep. Seriously, Fox... there are a lot of female Fox McCloud fanclubs on Corneria. You should find a nice..."
He lifted a paw and gestured Slippy to silence. "Save it, bud. I'm the leader of the Star Fox Team and I reserve the right to be as picky as I want. I gave this some thought... I'm not going to settle for some chick." His voice lowered and he added, "I don't want to settle on a girl and wind up marrying her at the Justice of the Peace just because I couldn't find someone else to make me happy enough to..."
Slippy looked somewhat horrified. "You've got to admit, though. He has been happier lately. I think he just doesn't want to admit that he's in love with Katt. Or, at the very least, he doesn't want to admit how happy she makes him."
"You're right," Fox agreed quietly. "I just... don't want to feel like I'm settling. A fan girl ...that's just not my speed." He hugged his friend and said, "Thanks for the trip down memory lane. I'd better get ready."
The Arwing shuddered , the instrument panel blanked out. His HUD flickered twice then went clear. Fox gave a tug on his control stick but the fighter was unresponsive. He brought a paw to his computerized armband and noted that it wasn't working. The pilot touched his headset but it was powerless. He reached for the ejection handle and, with a sigh, gave it a firm tug. Nothing happened. Fox's eyes widened. "What the hell?"
The Arwing continued to fall and the world below began to spiral slowly in a relaxed corkscrew dive. He pondered his options then reached for the weapon on his belt. Fox withdrew it and checked the power cell. It still showed full charge and appeared unaffected by whatever killed his fighter and gear. He was visually impressed. "Damn... solid weapon." He adjusted the settings on the yield selector and fired into his dash panel. The dashboard caved into the intense beam, which ripped through the front of the Arwing until the energy round struck the underside of the armored plated fuselage. He peered up through the canopy to see if the plasma shot breached the hull but saw where the plating up by the nosecone was distorted. "Man this gun kicks ass," he murmured, adding, "Hope I live to use it."
He groaned as if having heard some sort of awful pun. "Thanks, Slippy... your scrapbook jinxed me. That was my life flashing before my eyes. Dammit."
He lowered the intensity on the blaster then fired it again, blasting through the wreckage of his control panel. Once it was thoroughly destroyed, he unfastened his seat belt and holstered his weapon, securing it on his hip. He gritted his teeth and pushed against the centrifugal force from the plane's spiral. Fox rolled forward, put his feet on the backrest and forced his body forward towards the hole he'd created for himself.
His lips were pushed back, causing him to snarl unintentionally. He closed his fingers around one of the rudder pedals and continued to pull himself into the hole. Fox felt around beneath the twisted metal wreckage. His ears lowered in response to feeling a piece of metal scrape painfully against his forearm. The force of gravity kept them pinned back. His fist closed around a lever designed for Space Dynamics mechanics that serviced the fighters. Fox pulled back on it with all of his might. The antigravity sail erupted from the top of the cockpit but the damaged ejection manifold was powerless to release itself from the rest of the ship. He carefully slumped back then moved about until he was in his cockpit seat again.
After strapping himself in, McCloud looked up at the metallic flap sticking up out of his cockpit. It was obviously stressed under the weight of a fully loaded fighter. His eyes widened, seeing an Anglar fighter disappear into the cloud cover. "Octoman! You son of a bitch! So help me if I survive this crash I'm going to come for you!" His shouts went on deaf ears. The intensity of the G-forces became noticeably reduced as the plane's velocity decreased. The nose lifted and the spiraling plane evened out from the antigravity sail.
Fox peered over the side of the fighter's hull, seeing the unpopulated area far below. Trees and a nearby mountain range came into view as the clouds dissipated at the lower altitude. His head lifted and he lay back in the chair, willing his body to relax so as to absorb the incoming impact. His eyes widened again... The Cloud Runner streaked by above him. "KRYSTAL! If you can hear my thoughts, I NEED YOU!"
The Arwing crashed through a wooded area, ripping off his wings. He forced his breath out of his lungs just in time for the remains of the fighter to slam into the ground. It rolled, striking another tree trunk. The front end crumpled back like the tail of a 'J', his canopy became a spider web of intricate patterns. Another tree struck the top of his fighter, ripping the canopy clean off. The antigravity sail sheered away from the body. The fighter rolled three more times, without its protective cockpit glass to shield him. Everything went black.
*Darkness. At first, everything was comfortable and calm * but pain began to creep in. Next came the sound of wind howling through a forest followed by the stench of hydraulic fluid. Its pungency permeated the air and acted like smelling salts. He opened his eyes slowly. His neck ached and his head was slumped to the right - the fighter lay on its starboard side. The pilot fumbled with the seatbelt and gripped the siding so as not to spill from the seat and into the dirt. He carefully rolled onto his back and lay there in pain.
After a few minutes to get his bearings, he stood up and surveyed the situation. The fighter's remains were beyond repair. Pink fluid dribbled from between cracks in the armored plating. It continued down the hull and puddled on the ground. Its oily smell is what woke him. He lifted a paw to his head then groaned at the pain he felt. He lowered his arm and looked at his fingertips. A light coating of red - he was bleeding lighting from a mild gash. He glanced down, along his wrist and noticed he wore a computerized gauntlet but it was smashed up, probably from the impact. He lifted his paw again and touched his head then checked behind his ears. He pulled off a headset that looked equally damaged, as though it sustained a direct blow from a rock. He surmised that it probably saved his life and kept his skull from getting split open. However, the unit was obviously useless.
Next, he touched each elbow then each shoulder, wrists, checked his knees, ankles then each one of his ribs. "Well nothing is broken," he announced aloud, however the sound of his voice was unfamiliar. His paw went to his pocket; he withdrew his wallet and looked at the license within. "Fox McCloud," he murmured, reading the print. "Corneria Capital City." He flipped the card over and read, 'Lylat System Department of Interplanetary Motorized Vehicles' in fine print. He glanced at the front, reading his own statistics. His weight, height and his birth date - Fox placed the card back into the wallet and replaced it in his pocket.
He looked around the forest then checked himself over again with another quick pat down. There was a lump on his chest. He unzipped his jacket and fished out a metallic box from his shirt pocket. Inside was a pair of sunshades, still intact. He withdrew them and put them on to dim the lighting so as to help with the headache he was experiencing.
His paws went to his jacket pockets but something was in one of them. He withdrew a crumbled bit of wrapping paper and glared at it with an inquisitive expression. Another clue to this puzzle. He checked the inside pockets of his jacket, unzipping the left one. Within was a booklet of photographs. He stumbled towards the nearest tree and sat down, propping himself up against the trunk. The pilot opened the small scrapbook and looked through the pictures.
He recognized the male fox from the license found in his pocket but every other person in the book caused him to draw a blank. He got to the last page and saw a photograph of the male fox receiving a rather impressive looking blaster from a blue-feathered avian. He reached a paw to his hip and drew the blaster that was in that particular photograph. His eyes lifted from the gun, seeing a blue-furred woman with lengthy purple flowing hair. She approached with sure-footed steps as if in a hurry.
Judging by the expression on her face, she was concerned for him and the crash site. She knelt besides him and put her paws on either side of his face, immediately checking his head injuries first. "Good Goddess, are you all right? I thought you were a goner!"
The pilot quirked a brow at her and frowned. He didn't recognize her.