Notes:
It's been a while since I've been active here, but I think it's time to change that somewhat. For those who are watching me, this is a new story. This might take a little precedence over Zero Point right off the bat, but don't worry as I'm in the editing stages of the next chapter and it will be out soon.
This story, however, will be taking the place of my self-insert 'experimental' story, Man Vs. Planet. This is for several reasons; mostly because it feels like too much of a retelling of SFA as well as Zero Point and I really want to explore different territory as well as a significant amount of worldbuilding and other exposition. This is loosely inspired by an abandoned 'fic called Star Fox Legacies Vol. 1: Soujurn's End by Ninjafoxshadow. As he hasn't posted anything in several years and I haven't been able to find any remotely recent activity on any sites I remember him being on, I figure touching on some aspects from his work should be okay.
That said, for those familiar with the aforementioned story the situations, characters, and settings will be pretty much completely different. I hope this is a compelling ride, though I am going to keep this rated M to stay out of the normal 'fic rotation as well as touch on some more risqué subject matter(expect violence, questionable morality, and more suggestive themes than my usual). For now, please enjoy the prologue!
-Earthbound-
Prologue:
The planet hung suspended before me, verdant yet foreboding. I had been fortunate enough to catch a glimpse of its lush continents and impossibly large oceans before my ship crossed over into its night cycle. Even then the darkness revealed the haunting beauty of a civilized planet; clusters of lights marking cities; tied together by complex, interconnected ribbons of landspeeder traffic. The sight brought up distant memories of my forgotten home; memories which I shook out of my mind as I directed my craft behind its sole moon.
While it would have usually been an amateur place to hide, this planet didn't really have the sensor technology to detect anything except capital ships. I really didn't know the technical specifics, but the natives' detection equipment couldn't stand up to even basic sensor jamming. Visual identification could very well happen, but that had only happened a handful of times in the forty years the planet had been covertly visited. This was only my second time down to the planet, yet I followed the written guidelines to the letter. Despite the six months of round-trip Slipspace travel and the wear and tear on my ships, the payday would allow me to affect some much needed repairs. I sighed into the still, stale air as my hands danced across the controls, bringing the old, battered freighter to a gentle landing on the gray, dusty, airless surface of the still planetoid.
I glanced down to the controls, frowning when I noticed the time. Was it really that late? I would have to make my final approach to the planet's surface within a few hours. It wouldn't be long enough to sleep, but perhaps another form of recharge was in order. The Slipspace exit had been rough; there were no guidance beacons around as there was simply too much risk of detection by the planetary authorities. While it was in its bare infancy the planet still had a space exploration program and the normal practice of spacelanes and guidance beacons did not apply here. By force of habit I checked my sensors. There were other ships concealed within craters and large caves on the lunar surface, though that didn't quite surprise me. There was enough of a gray market economy going on between native companies and ones back in the Cluster; the black market of illicit substances was also quite lucrative. Terran goods brought high prices on Kew, regardless if it was copies of popular entertainment programs, hand-crafted luxury items or highly addictive narcotics.
On the other side of that coin, there were more than a few national and planetary governments in the Cluster that paid handsomely to take care of black market smugglers. I grinned as the memory of my last trip here crossed my mind. That was about a year ago, and the smuggler's introduction to a prison cell had significantly curtailed the methamphetamine market on Obsidian and gave my savings account enough padding to make eating better than spacer rations a reality. This time I was on the Kewian Senate's payroll; a sensitive matter which could impact not only the fate of the Cluster, but of the planet I was about to infiltrate. On my trip out of the cramped bridge of my converted freighter and to the stateroom I called home, I plucked the datapad containing the details of the job from its resting place on the empty co-pilot's seat. Despite knowing the contents by memory, one last review would not go amiss.
This would be a far more intensive job than the last, and frankly one of significantly higher importance. I took a deep breath as I looked around my stateroom. It wasn't much, but it was mine. My bed overlooked both a viewscreen and the window; the dismal, gray moonscape a stark contrast to the brilliant starfield beyond. That was a sight I never grew tired of seeing. Someone had told me years ago that I was a natural spacer; the solitude and independence of the lifestyle suited me. I had denied it at the time, yet the years and unfathomable distances I had travelled proved that he was right. Once again I shook those thoughts from my mind. The life I once led had no place here.
With a sigh I turned around and faced the mirror. Those years hadn't been kind to me, yet they had transformed me into who I was now. My expression was confident despite my weariness. My mixture of ruby and obsidian fur had started to fade somewhat; hints of my natural cerulean shade coming through. I frowned; a reapplication of dye would fix that. It wasn't smart to advertise who I had been before, even as far as I was from where I once called home. The less others knew about my particular talents, the better.
I stepped into the refresher unit; a hot shower and a vigorous drying cycle serving to wake me up. A reapplication from my stock of fur dye restored the luster and shine to my coat, once again erasing the vestiges of who I once was. "Never again." I muttered as I slid my flight suit on, making my way over to the bed to check out the rest of my equipment. My holosuit held a full charge. I was considering wearing it on the way down, but the tingling sensation it produced when active grew tiresome after a while. I would make sure to touch down somewhere remote; my target lived in a relatively unpopulated area. The sophisticated disguise had been a significant expense, though a necessity for operations on Terra.
Moving on, I selected two weapons from the safe underneath my bed. The small FerraTek PL-18 blaster/stunner I had relied on for years was a part of my standard kit, something I had picked up during my transition from a mercenary to a bounty hunter. The PL-18 provided good power in a small package, despite its relatively low capacity of fifty shots from its power pack. I usually carried a few spares in my bag. The other weapon was significantly more exotic and had cost me a small fortune from a specialist dealer on Kew.
Terran slugthrower weapons were incredibly rare in the Cluster, yet invaluable for those doing business here. The salesman had called it a Glock 26. Its mechanical nature and measly capacity of ten shots wasn't encouraging, though the dealer had assured me it was a widely used self defense and police weapon with a reputation for incredible reliability. On Kew cartridges were incredibly expensive, though the dealer also mentioned that the 9mm slugs it fired were easily sourced on Terra. Out of the fifty I had purchased I still had thirty; all seated in the magazines which came with the pistol.
I tucked the Terran pistol into my backpack and opted to place the FerraTek into a concealed pouch on my flightsuit. I packed relatively light; a few days worth of spacer rations and a few changes of clothes along with my holosuit and wristcomp. I also had a stack of paper currency for the Terran nation I would be operating in; I would be here for at least a few weeks to trace my targets and put plans in place. I gathered my things and exited the stateroom, sending a few remote commands to the freighter to drop into a low-power state until I returned. There was no sense burning up fuel and power while I was gone. The constant white noise of machinery died down as the freighter made its preparations; the air around me growing slightly yet noticeably colder as I opened the door to the cargo bay.
The cargo bay was divided into two compartments; the smaller forward bay set aside for my speeder bike as well as ample room for cargo. The larger aft bay was where the Cloudrunner was kept. My personalized fighter had seen far better days; a testament to her durability despite the abuse I had put her through. Carbon scoring ran rampant upon her once proud blue and white paint scheme, and several dents marred her frame where debris and shrapnel had managed to cut through the shields on a few occasions. Getting replacement parts for a Lylatian ship within the Cluster was quite difficult, though to counter that an Arwing-based craft was one of the most powerful starfighters in Kewian space. There were rumors of a few Arwings and Wolvens based out of Ruatis, though their military generally fielded old Cornerian or Venomian equipment. As a Lylatian expat I was welcomed on Ruatis, though I generally avoided associating that closely with my former life.
I started my preflight checks as soon as I put my backpack in the cockpit, inspecting the spaceframe as best I could for any damage that could have cropped up. Everything seemed to be serviceable, though she was going to have to go in for a complete overhaul soon. That was well past my budget, though a couple more jobs like this would put me in good enough shape to have it done. I climbed into the cockpit and shut the canopy, pulling my flight helmet on as I started her up and continued the checklist.
"Power couplings good, G-Diffusers online and working within parameters, repulsor coils good." I continued my internal checklist while testing various systems. "Shield arrays functional though could use calibration; sensor suite could use some attention. Should be good enough to detect any Terran craft during my descent." The Cloudrunner wasn't in perfect condition, though over the years I made do with what I had. "Beginning cabin pressurization check."
A harsh buzz and a shrill alarm blared within the cockpit, the standard warning of a hull breach startling me. Academy training took over as I automatically fished out the emergency oxygen mask from its storage compartment, clipping it to my helmet and fastening it over my muzzle. The thick, heavy scent of rubberized plastic made my nose wrinkle as I started breathing flat, cold recycled air. I sighed as I looked at the readout. One of the cabin pressurization pumps had failed and the other couldn't keep up; by the readout it could produce enough pressure to keep me from needing a full EVA suit but the equivalent altitude of 10,000 meters wouldn't be enough to keep me alive for more than a few minutes. It looked like I was going to be tethered into life support for the entire ride. That was going to be a very expensive repair on top of the overhaul. "Gods damn it." I muttered; my voice muffled and hollow due to the stifling mask.
I ran a detailed diagnostic on the emergency life support system, which was thankfully working perfectly. My flight suit was linked to it, acting as a pressure suit which would keep me alive if the cabin pressure completely failed. The suit stiffened around me, adding to the discomfort. I could still move everything I needed to effectively fly and perform in combat if I absolutely had to. I scanned the diagnostics a few more times, sighing when the realization came that I wasn't going to be able to easily repair the pumps. They were housed deep inside the ship, inside their own armored container. It would take me several hours to reach, even if I had the spare parts necessary to fix it. I couldn't waste that much time. I continued with the checklist, adding the defect to the log. "Primary cabin pressure pump defective. Secondary working well within parameters; cabin atmosphere hostile due to defect. Continuing flight on backup life support."
Everything else was in spec. Avionics and weapon systems were in the green; shielding systems were also nominal. After nearly a decade of deferred maintenance the Cloudrunner was starting to show her age. The life support repair would cut into my savings, but I would still be able to complete this mission. A final systems check revealed that I was as ready and as safe as I was going to get. I sent the necessary commands to depressurize the makeshift docking bay and to open the main doors; the dirty gray lunar surface illuminated only by the landing lights of my fighter. I gently guided my craft outside on repulsors alone, a sigh of relief given that my reduced cabin pressure was holding. "Cloudrunner is now fully separated from Vexxia. Initiating hibernation procedures for Vexxia and beginning insertion into Terran orbit." I glanced to the running mission clock, suppressing another sigh. "ETA to orbital insertion: Six hours, fourteen minutes." That was a long time to be drifting in space tethered to emergency life support. Not the first time I've dealt with this, however. I shuddered at the distant memory as my fighter rose from the lunar surface, immediately mindful of the rudimentary sensor suites on Terran satellites. They even had a space station, though that was easily avoided.
As I guided the Cloudrunner into a safe insertion path I queued up some music; a mix that Fay had specifically told me not to listen to until I had started my flight. I blinked as I slid my visor down to block out some of the chill in the partially pressurized cabin, not recognizing the song that was playing. I scanned the playlist, only finding a few mixed songs from Kewian and Lylatian artists I recognized. Most were Terran language ones, causing me to chuckle. The hollow, muffled sound echoed through the cabin as I swung into a relatively safe flight path, reading the note that she had attached to the playlist:
"K, I know this might not be all to your taste but I think you should give some of the native stuff a listen, too! The songs by Lacuna Coil and Flyleaf are ones I know you'll like, but you might like the classic Terran instrumental artists I've fallen in love with! Once you get back we're going to a beautiful, isolated oceanside resort I know of on Ruatis. The owner owes me a couple of favors so it's all free; no wiggling your way out of it, either! You need some downtime! Take care of yourself, and get ready for a party when you return! –Fay"
Her lighthearted note gave me an occasion to smile, which didn't happen too often in my line of work. Perhaps I had been working too hard, and repairs to the Cloudrunner would take a while. I might take her up on the resort offer once I got back, though I was going to be on Terra for at least a few weeks until my trip back. The relaxing yet upbeat tones of a piano carried through my helmet's headphones; the track listing mentioning it as a piece by a Terran artist named Chopin. The music served as a distraction from the chilly confines of the cockpit, the artificial compression of my flightsuit and the stifling mask as I glided towards the planet.
I had managed a quick nap before the sensor panels alerted me to the intricate web of satellites and orbital debris which surrounded Terra. I immediately threw on the jammers which made the Cloudrunner neigh near invisible to native detection systems, though visual detection by government and commercial satellites remained a possibility. The unofficial law shared by all Cluster governments was well into effect: Create interplanetary incidents at your own peril. Intrusions on Terran affairs were dealt with swiftly, and I was among a few independent contractors licensed by the Kewian Senate to take on such tasks. With that responsibility came access to passive listening stations set up on the Terran moon; I had the most up to date information regarding satellite and debris tracking. I was able to find a very quiet spot in Terra's southern hemisphere to make my approach. I scanned the instruments, acutely aware of my dry throat and cold-numbed nose from the recycled oxygen I had been breathing for the past several hours.
The landing coordinates were well within one of the largest and most-powerful Terran nations; one whose military actively scanned the skies and open space. That in and of itself made prudence and caution a priority. There were rumors of smugglers being captured by their military and their craft seized; if that was true their sensors could very well be put to use to detect craft like mine. It was a concern that weighed heavily on my mind as I hit the atmosphere; making as shallow an angle as possible to create as unobtrusive as a reentry flare as I could.
That was when everything started breaking apart. My sensors started chiming a warning as another craft shot up from the planet to greet me. The readouts displayed the pertinent information; a single-seat fighter of Venom manufacture. My breath caught as my heart leapt in my chest. A Wolfen? Only a handful were known to be privately owned outside of Star Wolf, and the only one confirmed to exist in the Kew Cluster was…
The malice-filled, accented voice carried to my headphones as the Wolfen's occupant made himself known. "So, the Senate sent its pet watchfox to play hero, did they?" The video feed of a wiry human came across my visor. Tousled blonde hair framed his angular features and several days' growth of stubble gave him an unkempt air; his piercing eyes hidden by a pair of sunglasses of Terran manufacture. He sneered as my video feed came through, cutting off a laugh as he continued his appraisal. "Well, look at that! Seems like the watchfox had a hull breach! Did you run into a scuffle on your way over, or did you forget to pay your oxygen bill?"
"Stuff it, Oran." I hissed back, flipping the Cloudrunner over to seek out a potential attack vector. Oran Suleth was one of Ipran's most effective contractors, though the labels 'thief' and 'assassin' would better suit his general line of work. This wasn't the first time our paths crossed. "I'm surprised Ipran let you off the leash after what happened last time."
"Those were Ipranian indentured servants, vixen." Oran growled as his craft sped up, trying to get a better angle on me. I wouldn't oblige him. I undershot his vector as he passed; the orange and white Wolfen unable to get a good lock. I wasn't sure he was out for blood yet so I stayed my fire; a duel in Terran skies would be a glaring beacon to anyone who happened to be even remotely in the area. "You had no right to escort them out of the system, nor did you have a right to fire on the patrol craft sent to bring them back."
"You mean slaves, Oran." I snapped, casting a quick glance to the altimeter and pressure gauges. I was around 20km above Terra's surface, and probably two thousand klicks from my designated landing ground. "Kidnapped Obsidian citizens. Sentient trafficking is a serious offense. You're lucky you weren't extradited to Kew to face trial." I winced as I saw his craft wheeling around. I took the safeties off my weapons systems; while he was too far away to read his thought patterns I knew this was about to come to blows.
"That's only a matter of opinion, vixen. They signed the contracts, and they were obligated to come with us. Speaking of which, there's a bounty on your head. Eight hundred K-Creds alive, but I'll settle for half that. All I need is your hide!" With that Oran went on the attack; alarms screamed in my ears as I spun my craft away from his charged shot. The Cloudrunner shrieked in protest as I evaded; the shot grazing my shields with a characteristic, sickening shudder. I managed to rake Oran's shields with a counterattack before evading once more; seeking safety in distance and thicker atmosphere. I didn't want to think what would happen if…
I was snapped against my restraints by a massive jolt; the Cloudrunner's controls fighting my hands as the shields went critical. Oran had somehow maneuvered right behind me, and he was charging up another shot. I fought back against the controls as another series of shots scored against my craft. The canopy cracked in front of my eyes; the warning tones cascading on top of another. Shields critical, structural damage, and another hull breach situation. Immediately my flight suit compensated by increasing the pressure on my chest; my subtle measure of panic rising as breathing became more difficult. The accented voice continued to throw taunts into my ear over the comm channel. "Not so tough now, are you? I hope you've made your peace with your gods, because you're about to meet them!"
With a growl I shut the comms off, focusing on breathing and evading my homicidal human opponent. A few more bursts snapped past my cockpit as I dove for the deck, no longer thinking about evading Terran eyes. I executed a snap-roll to the right then hit the brakes; allowing the Wolfen to pass me. I fired back; emerald bolts stabbing out to seek my attacker's craft. I could tell the Cloudrunner was seriously wounded, but if I didn't do something I wasn't going to survive the encounter. I turned into Oran's evasive maneuver, staying on him as I continued firing. I didn't have time to celebrate the small victory of scoring a few more hits; I had nearly depleted his shields before he broke off. I went in the opposite direction, keeping an eye on his craft as I sought the safety of lower altitudes and broken terrain.
I coaxed my fighter as much as I could as I cruised up the narrow land corridor between the two major Terran continents. My landing zone was another seven-fifty klicks to the north, and I wanted to get as close as I could before Oran recovered. I could tell the Cloudrunner was behaving erratically; the controls were sluggish to respond, indicative of damage to either the control surfaces or the motivator units inside them. I couldn't catch a break, apparently. At our ships' top atmospheric speeds the zone was just minutes away.
I muttered a curse as my sensors spotted Oran's Wolfen closing in; his shields were mostly recharged. Mine were struggling; there must have been some damage to the emitters. "Okay, you bastard. Let's see how well you can fly that thing." I sped up, mindful that I had blown past my original landing point. The relative safety of a mountainous region to the north beckoned to me; if I could lose him there I had a chance of making an unobtrusive landing and continuing my mission.
I dove low, seeking out a narrow valley between the rock walls. With the control lag my situation wasn't ideal, but I had been trained by some of the best pilots in Lylat. Crimson bolts snapped past my craft as I wound around the mountains, lit only by the violet glow of the Cloudrunner's night vision suite. Oran had followed me, but I wasn't going to give up that easily. I hugged the ground, throttling up in an attempt at losing my pursuer in the canyons.
I flipped my visor down, engaging its night vision mode. Treetops flashed by mere meters underneath my canopy as I throttled up, the wingtips of my fighter almost skimming the rock walls. I could tell Oran was reluctant to give direct chase; his fighter was one of the most powerful in Kew but his skills weren't on par with my own. The 'nap of the ground' flying denied him a chance to easily hit me without either losing me or putting his craft at risk.
I increased my speed through the mountain valley, muttering a curse as I buzzed a small town. That incident would be noticed, though with my life and my contract at risk I didn't have much choice. Oran was keeping up, and the tight mountain valley was giving way to a large open area. I cursed again; I had bought myself some time but he had me dead to rights. My heart thundered in my chest and the hollow, almost mechanical sound of my breathing amplified in my ears. I experienced what I felt was a final moment of clarity. I would fight. I might die; the contract might fail. However, I would determine how my life ended. Not some Ipranian slaver with more money than skill and a flair for the dramatic. While I had been cast down from my heritage many years ago, I would at least die like a Cerinian.
I rolled my craft to the right, avoiding a spray of laser fire from Oran's Wolfen. I pulled the stick back, diverting power to the engines and weapon systems; I started preparing a charged shot of my own. Once again he overshot me; a crucial mistake in his zeal for my blood. My charged shot hit him square on the tail, overloading his shields. I wasted no time in continuing my attack, but his evasive maneuvers caused me to go wide. Snarling at my opponent I stuck onto him. There was no room for taunts or explanations; I would either kill him or he would kill me. Oran's thought patterns were human and unfamiliar; despite that I could detect the same thought through his mind. I had scared him; he was no longer toying with me.
The damage to the Cloudrunner became a severe liability. My edge was gone, despite being fully aware of the capabilities of the Wolven. Oran somehow slipped behind me, laser cannons tearing into my customized ship. The jolts felt like someone had taken a hammer to my back; my hands fought the controls as I could see debris fall from my fighter. Two thirds of the damage indicators were in the red. I bit back the frustration and anguish at seeing my most prized possession dying around me. The knowledge that I would be joining her soon somehow calmed me.
Another thought came to mind. I needed to fight, even if my fighter wasn't going to survive. Could I land? Somehow escape, make Oran come to me? I could take him on; get in his Wolfen and escape. Another jolt caused my fighter to almost spiral out of control. If I was going to try this last-ditch plan at survival I had to try it now. I scanned the area to see if I could find somewhere I could possibly land; jinking my stricken Cloudrunner to the left and avoiding a burst of fire that would have killed me. There was only one option: a Terran road that bisected the empty area between two mountain ranges that served as our battleground. I opted for it, diving down to the deck while miraculously evading Oran's withering attacks.
My controls were almost nonresponsive now; I growled as I fought with them. "C'mon; just a little more, girl. You can do it!" I gasped in shock as I skimmed the surface of the road, noticing the red taillights of a Terran landspeeder coming up impossibly fast. I managed to clear the vehicle by mere meters; the act causing a fatigued wing to fail and snap off my fighter. I futilely wrestled with the controls; my fate had been sealed. My last words were a quickly muttered prayer to the old gods; a plea for forgiveness many years too late and millions of kilometers too distant as my failing craft made contact with the surface of Terra.
A massive force snapped me around in my seat, panic overtaking me just before I felt a crushing, brutal impact on my helmet. Pain shot up and down my body; the last sensation I felt before my consciousness was snatched away.