Starfox: Second Sun
While reviewing my hits for this story, I found that for whatever reason around half of all people that click on it continue to the next chapter, while the other half promptly exit. Only about a fourth of all 'hits' seem to trickle their way into the most recent chapter available (chapter 4). I'm writing to say that readers make the dream work and I feel that my story deserves a chance, and failing that, your input as to why it didn't hook you in. I haven't had a dislike yet and I plan on keeping it that way by working for it with magnificent diction and dazzling plot - or something like that... This is a story for fans and non-Starfox average Joes who just want a good read. Enjoy. ;) (Updated: August 15, 2014)
Chapter 1: Starrise Over Corneria
Solar was just beginning to appear over the horizon. Its orange rays touched buildings on one side while shadows loomed on the other covering most of the city of Farang. A tomcat's gaze passed over the familiar scene of the city from a balcony. He had witnessed it countless times before. His wife used to watch it with him and even his kids when they had the willpower to leave the warm coziness of their beds. But really, he suspected there was a time she did it merely for his presence. Those days, however, were gone.
There were in fact two stars that directly affected the planet of Corneria. Lylat was the hotter of the two and its rays had a blue hue. Solar was less intense due to its distance with reddish-orange rays. His daughter, Kylie, had written a poem about it: Solar is red, Lylat is blue, and Daddy - I love you. His son, Ansel, delighted to present big sis Ky Ky's poem as his own, read it on his father's day of birth. Most days though, his age was lost on him. Thoughts of his family occupied his mind. Memories resurfaced and trapped him in a limbo, where life never seemed to move on from the past.
Once upon a time, he and his wife shared a love: him, her, their kids, their home, the good times, the bad ones, the glory, then the peace, the starrises, and for some odd reason purple. Those days, however, were gone. Alone, he reminded himself how slippery such things could be, and how he had failed to hold on. No matter how far gone they were from the present, pain and happiness from the past glared on him abundantly.
He felt the cool breeze ruffle his fur. The morning promised to be cool just the way the tom liked. Despite himself, he was able to enjoy the brief peace and tranquility brought on by the scenery. As sure as the breeze, as sure as the stars, as sure as his existence, life continued. Peace itself did not for it was easily taken. Suddenly, the double doors to his office flew open with a force that threatened to push him closer to the streets below. In came a green blur of a young woman, and a new air of irritation that threatened to collide with the cold front outside.
"I swear Blackfoot, sometimes I think you ask my recommendations just so you can shit all over them," she complained. It was almost a yell, but he knew her and she took pride in her composure. To make an excessive story short, Blackfoot was a reference to his black hands and feet that contrasted his snowy pelt.
"That's not true. You're a valued member of the team and I respect your opinions." The feline had failed to turn around and greet her in hopes that whatever it was would fix itself. She tossed the papers to the cold floor as only she could, with grace. Flattery wasn't going to bring back peace. He finally turned around and gently collected the papers, reviewing their contents as he did so. Based on what he read, the matter was him choosing an apparently un-recommended vulpine to address his growing needs. "I'm sorry Lieutenant Fang, the decision has been made. Besides, he's perfect for the job." The white furred tom stood at ease with the papers behind his back as though she were his commanding officer. He found this strategy to work well on good days.
It didn't sway her. She flicked her tail irritably, "there are literally thousands of other candidates who could be vetted, including ones with better ties to Corneria. And for every two patriots there's one who completely surpasses that tribal excuse of a sentient you want." She crossed her arms, pursed her lips, put her weight to one side, and glared at him with her blue eyes.
The stance was as familiar and comforting to him as the starrise over Corneria. It reminded him of why he did what he did, his calling to bend the uncertainty of peace in the favor of the people he protected. He desired an infinite number of sunrises for many generations to come. If he succeeded, the lieutenant along with countless others would live long and regain a fleeting continuity. Such peace, however, could only be achieved if you fought for it.
Lt. Fang continued her argument and he listened until she was finished. "I have no doubt that you've given this a great deal of thought," he purred, but then his tone hardened, "but might I remind you, you were once like him." It was a reference to her simple beginnings on a planet long gone - her limbo. He shouldn't have said it. Composure abandoned, her ears drew back and her lips followed suite to reveal pearly white fangs, "xen tuho 0ei! Ev 0ei, a um…"
From the direction of the doors came a laugh, "petty squabble huh." A colossal figure leaned against the door frame. That was Lieutenant Klein, a bear from Fortuna. Despite 'huh' it was less of a question and more of an irritating observation. The Lieutenant carried an odd tongue that accented his equally odd presence. All Fortunites were like that, Blackfoot supposed.
"I'm glad to see you can find some amusement from all this," Blackfoot's replied.
"Regardless Captain, she's a point huh suh. He is strong, little else about him here," the lieutenant tapped his own forehead, followed by spreading out one of his massive arms as though it were another part of his argument. As a bear, Massaac had large wrists. They served as a testament to his raw strengh. His height fell short of average, but the muscles that rippled under his fur were a good replacement for the lost intimidation in height. And even so, short for a bear was still cause for any cat to have to look up to him.
"He might surprise you. Besides, don't you trust me?" he asked Klein sarcastically. Before he could answer, Blackfoot dismissed him with a simple wave. Blackfoot could see that although Robyn was past her anger, she was still upset with him. The flattened ears were a dead giveaway. "I appreciate your concerns, but we're past the point of discussion. We've got a big day ahead of us, as always, so we need to get ready. Dismissed." Lt. Klein dipped his head and casually retreated out of his office followed by Lt. Fang, almost.
"Wait, Robyn." She stopped and he beckoned her over with his tail. "You forgot something," he said holding out the papers that had begun the conversation. She came back obediently. Robyn had looked up to him both physically and figuratively ever since his mentoring of her. Blackfoot was all she had in the way of a father. Hell, he was old enough to be. The tomcat liked to think of it that way. Robyn filled the emptiness in him; she breathed new life into his obligations to Corneria. The tom grabbed her chin and their eyes met. "You're my little soldier, yeah?" he asked, smiling. She nodded and buried her muzzle into his chest. He felt her arms wrap around his waist. It was a rare moment of emotional vulnerability, and he cherished every second of it. Her scent filled his nostrils and with it came a flood of new memories waiting to be encoded. "I'm proud of you." She looked back up at him, this time, with a sparkle in her eyes. "One of these days, you'll inherit my job and this office, and I will sleep well at night knowing that the system is in capable hands."
She smiled and pecked him on the cheek where a scar just happened to lay. It represented a memory of his that she could only see with curiosity and without emotion. Her gaze rested still, so he decided to indulge her. "It happened during the year 2LW, Macbeth, Operation: Drought; your old man had 'em running with their tails between their legs," he began. It had indeed been a victory, which Blackfoot was accustomed to; it also had not been that cut and dry, hence the scar.
Before long, Robyn made her way to the door and stopped when her body was half in, half out. "Goodbye, Vukxoh," she stated. And with that, she was gone. It could've meant anything between goodbye and this isn't over. He didn't know the language, but he waved anyway. Attagirl. His shoulders became heavy from the brief reminiscing of the Lylat wars. With no one left to appease and Solar higher than before, he took a seat behind his wooden desk. The day had just begun and already he was in need of a cigar. It was a good stress reliever and another comfort. Robyn had been trying to get him to stop, but old habits die hard. He considered it a guilty pleasure, and all people had those right? The tomcat poured himself a glass of scotch so that his lungs could have a liver to sympathize with. He'd seen his own dad pour the same drink too many times, but this was different from that. Blackfoot drank because he had to. His father drank because he couldn't help but drink.
Looking back, his life was one left turn after another, starting from the day he joined the Cornerian Army. And look how far I've come. Hey pops! Can you see me from down there? Your son is everything you were plus a murderer. Since his first puff with his old man, he had perfected the art of the smoke ring, and then re-perfected it with 'modern' E-Cigs. Drinking came even easier, and a fresh glass replaced the first after a while. In his experience, one glass was immoral, unethical, and quite simply inadequate.
The tom was left with his bare necessities, redirecting his mind to a simple task. One. Two. Three smoke rings with the last being the smallest. They were like the sights on a weapon and through them he once again rested his gaze over the city. Blackfoot raised his glass to the starrise and gave a silent prayer of thanks that Solar had decided to rise, and he hoped Lylat would follow its sister star when the time came.
Authors Notes
I've risen from the grave, boOoOoOoOoo! :3
After a long time, I've revisited this chapter, that I no longer consider a prologue because it's less confusing to think of it as Chapter 1. If you click on the next chapter and it says Ch.1, you've been informed that that is no longer the case. In short, this isn't the first time I've revisited it, nor will it be the last. The goal was to add additional depth to my characters before the plot begins to unfold. As always, your feedback is invaluable, seeing as how it's the difference between a good story and a heap pile of incoherent crap. (Updated: August 15, 2014)