❷ Avalanche ❷

"My world has gone dark. I feel like I'm floating, even breathing underwater. I don't understand any of this. My body is giving me mixed messages, but my mind isn't telling me anything. I can't recall what happened yesterday, the day before that, or the day before that day. Reality seems to have become completely detached for me; and I desperately wish there was a way to bring it back into focus. I want to cry out – to scream at the top of my lungs, but my body won't respond to anything I tell it to do. I'm completely helpless. I don't even know how or why I'm alive. Am I even alive? My mind is on the verge of death, my body might as well be dead and gone, and even my spirit feels like it is being snuffed out. Can anyone hear me?

"Anyone? Please, rescue me."

- § -

The nondescript, ageing transport ship descended through the snowy winter skies of northern Macbeth en route to its destination outside a small hamlet in the imposing Echelon mountain range. Despite his piloting skills, Fox struggled to maintain control over the old vessel that Supervisor Ling had provided for the mission. Although he would have preferred to use the team's Arwings for transportation, he could not deny that using the unmarked Lylat Wars-era transport offered far more cover for the secretive operation.

Driving snow and sleet blocked Fox's visuals, forcing him to rely on his instruments and navigation system to reach the landing pad on the edge of the village where his two contacts awaited him. Before departing from the Supervisor's makeshift office, the panda had offered him a small amount of information on the scouting twosome who would be providing support for his team. From what the large panda had explained, the two members of the defunct Cornerian reconnaissance and scouting group SPIRE comprised a husband and wife duo who had vast experience with the climate of northern Macbeth. In addition, they held the supplies and gear that Star Fox needed for their operation. They also maintained a large house in the village of Silverhurst where the team intended to stay the night, which was already upon them. The low light combined with the wintry precipitation created a hostile atmosphere for Fox, who glanced at his navigation system and sighed in relief when he noticed that only five miles separated him from his destination.

The faint light from the village soon became visible to Fox. Cutting the thrust from the transport's engines, he began to descend in altitude as the ship's navigational beacon formed an 'X' over the landing pad outside a large wooden lodge with two stories. As the ship descended, the scope of Silverhurst came into view. Most of the buildings in the village were small and unimpressive apart from the aforementioned lodge and another sizeable building that functioned as the hamlet's tourist and equipment rental center. In general, very few individuals maintained a residence in the harsh northern Macbeth climate, leaving the area open mostly for tourists. In the harsh winter, however, the village became a veritable ghost town. Yet, it was in this silent village that their mission support awaited them.

Hovering over the landing site, Fox flicked the 'fasten seat belts' light, warning the rest of his team to secure themselves for the landing – although it was not as if serious injury awaited them if they failed to heed the bright red warning light. For several long seconds, the nondescript G61 transport descended towards the snow-covered landing pad outside the lodge at the edge of the village until it touched down with a subdued thump.

Cutting the ship's engines off, Fox unbuckled his seatbelt and stood up, feeling the blood flow returning to his legs for the first time in what felt like several hours. With no one else beside him in the pilot's area, he stepped into the main seating chamber, where the rest of the team milled about, zipping up their winter attire and preparing to taste the wintry onslaught outside. Their unhappy expressions hinted at their displeasure of having to step into the elements, especially considering that Falco, Slippy, and Fara in particular had severe aversions to cold weather. Fox knew that the forthcoming mission would prove to be difficult for the team as a whole because of this, but he refused to allow the knowledge to grate on him. He had a job to do, and the discontent of his fellow teammates would not stand in his way.

As he stepped out of the cockpit, the rest of the team glanced in his direction. "Hey, I know this weather sucks, but we'll only be in it for a few minutes tonight. Our contacts will have better winter gear for us, so it won't be this bad tomorrow."

"I hope so," Falco grunted. "You know that I can't take this weather. Too bad they couldn't have built this so-called secret base on Zoness."

Fox shook his head in response to his teammate and walked to the back of the ship, where the ramp controls awaited his fingertips. For a moment, he paused and took a quick breath before he pressed the button to lower the rear loading ramp. An immediate blast of icy air rocketed into the ship as a confirmation of the ramp's motion.

"Damn, that's cold."

Before walking down the ramp, he turned to face his team and motioned for them to follow him outside, which they did, albeit begrudgingly. The lodge that stood before them towered over the smaller buildings around it, although it could not stand up to the hulking pines that framed the small village and provided it with a natural perimeter. The exterior of the lodge seemed well-kept enough, although it was clear that the harsh winter weather prevented much from being done to it in the way of maintenance. Several small bushes dotted the white landscape, their tough, weather-resistant limbs holding up to the worst that the Macbeth winter could throw at them.

On the ground beneath the team's feet, thick, foot-deep snow covered the entire landscape, obscuring every path that the village had to offer. Every aspect of the locale suggested that it had been abandoned for several months. No vehicles existed in the immediate area apart from the team's own transport, and not a single footprint could be found in the snow.

"What a terrible place to live. I can't say I blame them all for wanting to get out of here," Fox thought to himself.

Glancing over his shoulder at the rest of the team, he ascended the wooden steps to the lodge's front porch and approached the imposing front door, which he knocked on. More than ten seconds passed without the faintest shadow of a response, causing him to knock again, this time much more aggressively. As before, no one answered the door, and no additional sound reached Fox's ears.

From the bottom of the stairs, Miyu inquired, "Is no one home? This is the place we were supposed to meet up with SPIRE, right?"

Fox turned away from the door and crossed his arms in frustration. "Yeah, it is. I don't know what to think about this. I don't have a number that I'm supposed to call or anything. They were supposed to meet us here, but it looks like they couldn't bring themselves to do it."

"Well, what are we going to do about it then?" asked Falco.

Fox stamped his foot on the wooden porch and replied, "I don't know. Maybe we should head back to the ship and wait a few more minutes. Maybe they'll show up soon."

In response to Fox's suggestion, Fara shook her head and opined, "If they're not in the house now, I don't think they'll be in it at any point tonight. I know that they are trained scouts, but I don't see any reason for them to be out in this weather right now."

As if on cue, the roar of distant engines broke through the consistent noise of the heavy snowfall. The noise grew in volume for upwards of a minute, after which two snowmobile headlights sliced through the blizzard. Descending the steps and standing in front of the lodge, Fox glanced to his right and watched the two vehicles approach him from the far end of the village.

Noticing the mercenary troupe standing in front of the lounge, the rider of the snowmobile to the right – according to Fox's point of view – waved his hand at the team and slowed to a halt in front of them before shutting off his vehicle's engine and climbing off. He wore a black winter coat and white pants that sported a gray camouflage pattern. A hood obscured his face until he pulled it down, revealing himself as a snow leopard who looked to be in his late thirties in terms of age.

While he approached Fox, his partner – a youthful, gray-furred wolfess with long, dark gray hair – clambered off the other snowmobile. After taking a quick glance at her, Slippy estimated that the age gap between her and the leopard was greater than fifteen years. With a voice replete with a thick accent befitting the climate in which they lived, she addressed Star Fox. "Sorry to keep you waiting. We found something interesting on the way back and had to take a look at it. I do beg your pardon."

Falco scowled in response while his body continued to reject the frigid weather around him. "It better have been pretty freaking important," he muttered under his breath. Miyu's expression communicated a similar attitude, but she chose to remain silent while the snow leopard stepped in front of Fox and held out his gloved hand for him to shake.

"Glad to see that you made it, Star Fox. I'm Reinhold Morton, former leader of SPIRE, and this is my…er…friend Yana."

The she-wolf gritted her teeth and let out a quick, frustrated yip shortly before Fara crossed her arms and asked Reinhold, "She's your wife, isn't she?"

The leopard's face flushed red for a moment. "Um…yes and no. We never formally married, but there's a reason for that—a reason that I don't feel like discussing right now. Anyway, how about we head inside where it's warm? There's plenty of room for all of you. I've also got your gear and weapons laid out in the great room."

"Sounds good," Fox consented.

"Great. Yana, let them in and show them around while I put the snowmobiles away."

The she-wolf nodded in obedience and led the mercenary team up the lodge stairs before procuring a key from her pants pocket and inserting it into the worn brass door handle. The door creaked open to reveal a candlelit room complete with an enormous cloth couch, a chandelier held together with heavy-duty ropes, a large wine rack on the left side of the room next to an enormous, active fireplace, and a large, rough table where five sets of white clothing and five assault rifles rested. Notably, both the clothing and the weapons bore the hieroglyphic insignia of the Makaara terrorist group that Supervisor Ling had mentioned during his meeting with Fox and Fara. Clearly, whoever had procured the gear had stopped at nothing to make their appearances convincing.

"Makes me uneasy just looking at them," Fox muttered under his breath, but not quietly enough for the rest of the team and Yana not to hear him.

"These are the real deal, Fox," Slippy implied. "The finishes are all corroded by sand – probably from Titania where these guns came from. I wonder how they ended up here."

"Someone working for Corneria had some serious guts. Either that or they got unbelievably lucky when they found these," Miyu replied.

Falco picked up one of the rifles, which featured a curved magazine that struck him as being heavier than what he was accustomed to. Giving the side of the weapon a once-over, he noticed a slot for spent cartridges on the right side and curled the edge of his beak in near-disbelief. "Really? They gave us ballistic weapons? They might as well have asked us to just walk into that base with our hands tied behind our backs."

Yana's tail perked up in response to Falco. "It's not what it looks like. These are not ordinary ballistic rifles. The barrels have all been bored out for the modified .358 caliber bullets, which are made of an armor-piercing tungsten alloy. At medium to short range, these will work every bit as well as plasma or laser weapons – just don't expect miracles at long range. Of course, that's why I and my husband will be taking care of that for you." She turned her head for a moment and glanced toward the fireplace, where an enormous sniper rifle leaned against the stone surface.

After Star Fox had examined the equipment on the table for long enough, Yana pointed towards a large staircase on the left side of the room and said, "Team, follow me upstairs. This is where we keep the guest rooms. There are four of them, which works out perfectly for you. I'm sorry to say that we don't have any hot water at the moment, unfortunately."

"You've got to be kidding me," thought Slippy. "The one thing I was hoping for after landing in this icebox."

At the top of the wooden stairs, the passageway ended in a wall, with two halls branching off from the cul-de-sac to the left and right. "There are two bedrooms for each side," Yana explained. "You can choose which ones you'd like. They're all identical anyway."

"Great," Falco spoke up. "Am I going to miss anything important if I turn in now? I'm telling you, the flight over here wore me out."

Taken aback, Yana replied, "Um…I don't think that'll be a problem. I'll just let Reinhold know about it. Have a good night…I think?"

"Yeah. I'll be out pretty soon. Talk to you in the morning." With that, Falco approached the nearest bedroom and closed the door behind him after entering it.

Turning to Fox, who looked peeved by his teammate's behavior, Yana asked, "Is he always like that?"

"Yeah, pretty much," Fox replied. "He likes to have things his way. I think the weather got to him. He's from Zoness, you see."

Yana nodded. "I understand. If I hadn't been born here, I don't think I could take this winter weather. Looking at your team, I actually feel sorry for you. I think you're the only one here who has the right kind of fur coat for this climate. We'll do everything we can to help you, though."

"Thanks. I know Reinhold wants to chat, but to be honest, I feel like following Falco's lead and going to bed. The time change after we landed on the planet wiped me out," Fox admitted.

The wolfess glanced at the two bedrooms to the right of the stairwell and sighed, "Reinhold needs to talk to you about the mission for a little while, but the rest of your team can hit the beds now if they'd like."

"Oh yes," Miyu whispered, breaking off from the group and claiming the bedroom next to Falco's on the left side of the stairs. A second door slam confirmed her decision to retire early. Although his movements lacked the speed and urgency of Falco or Miyu's, Slippy soon followed suit and walked into the first bedroom on the right, leaving only Fara, Fox, and Yana in the hallway at the top of the stairs.

Showing her teeth in a mild display of nervous unease, Yana explained to the two remaining members of Star Fox, "Reinhold should be back in by now. I promise that I'll try to make this quick. He's not one to ramble on, either. He knows it's late; and we're all going to need all the rest we can get for tomorrow."

"Thanks, Yana," Fox murmured before the young she-wolf led him and his fiancée down the stairs to the main level.

- § -

On a tall, snow-covered bluff overlooking the small mountain village through a gap in the towering pine trees, a solitary figure stood, scanning the area with an advanced set of infrared binoculars. The driving snow alighted on the hood that covered his muzzle, while his thick vulpine brush was forced to contend with the elements. Although he tried his best to maintain his composure in the freezing winter night, his body refused to stop warning him about the danger of remaining outside in the blizzard. While he used his binoculars, two weapons hung from his back – a worn battle rifle that looked like a relic from a long-forgotten war, and a long, serrated katana with a carbon fiber hilt. Unlike the firearm that he carried, the sword appeared to have been constructed within the past year.

Through his binoculars, he focused his attention on the docked transport ship outside the largest building in the village – the lodge on the north end. He scanned the vehicle for any identifying regalia, but found nothing other than blank sheet metal.

"That's a military transport. If it doesn't have any markings, it's probably the property of an intelligence agency or an undercover mercenary group."

Putting his binoculars into the small leather bag that hung from his shoulder, he ordered, "Roux, scan that transport. Try to find out where it came from and who it belongs to."

In response to his command, a female voice echoed in his head. "Let me see…it's a Cornerian-built G61 transport, but the licensing tag is unreadable. It's not listed as belonging to any fleet, either."

"Intelligence agency it is, then," the figure muttered. "But what are they doing this far up here?"

"They'd probably be asking you the same thing if they knew you were here," the voice in his head replied.

"Don't get me started."

"They might be after the same thing you are. Maybe you should think about introducing yourself."

"I don't think so, Roux. I doubt that I can trust anyone else to help me with my objective. The stakes are too high."

"If that's the case, then why do you think you can do it yourself?"

The vulpine sighed, exhaling a stream of air into the winter night. The moisture in his breath crystallized as it left his nostrils, while a small part of it transformed into a steamy vapor. "I'm not sure I can, Roux. I just don't want to let anyone I can't trust in on this."

"You and your trust issues. I honestly can't believe you've gotten this far with how little you've done to engage the people you've run into on this ridiculous mission. Why, if I wasn't restricted to this digital state, I'm sure I'd have found your sister and brought her back by now," the female voice remarked.

Clenching his fists, the fox retorted, "What gives you the right to say that? You don't even know what she looks like."

"Based on your description of her, I can't imagine that it would be very difficult," the voice shot back.

Admitting defeat for the moment, the vulpine lowered his head and muttered, "Roux, now is not the time for this. I'm tired and I need to find shelter ASAP – without letting the people in that lodge know that I'm here. If you would, do me a favor and keep your mouth shut until I get settled in for the night. You can talk all you want after that."

"Fair enough. I'd suggest setting up camp in that small house on the south end of the village. I see some firewood under an awning on the side. It doesn't look like you'll be seen from the lodge, either."

The vulpine glanced down the hill and to his left, where a small building with the aforementioned awning stood. Fallen snow lay in piles around the building, but the wood under the shelter built into the side seemed untouched by the moisture. Perfect firewood, then.

Hoping that the snow that had frozen onto his hooded cloak would obscure him from view, he carefully descended the hill, being careful to avoid stepping into any ravines that the snow hid from the naked eye while at the same time keeping a watchful eye on the lodge. He had watched the five guests enter the building along with the two normal residents; and he had no intention of being discovered by any of them.

The small house grew closer as he pushed his way through the pines bordering the village. With trained footsteps, he crept through the woods and entered the village premises. Upon reaching the desired building's back door, he stopped and frowned when he noticed the snow piled up around it. His hands already felt numb from the icy weather outside; and he knew that after clearing the snow, they would be almost incapable of starting a fire inside. Nonetheless, he dug in and forced himself to move the snow away from the door, using nothing but his hands. Fifteen minutes passed before he freed the door, but then he found himself faced with another problem. It seemed that whoever had left the building had locked it from the inside without providing another means of entry.

"I've just about had enough of this already. I've got to get inside quickly, or frostbite's going to become a real possibility."

Taking a quick look around to make sure that no eyes were upon him, he reached behind his back and drew his katana. He brandished it for a moment; then, he swung it upwards along the door seam. The loud report of ripping wood reverberated through the woods behind him, along with the rewarding sound of the metal lock splitting in two and clattering to the wooden floor inside the building. With the bolt no longer a concern, the fox pried the door open and stepped inside. Several mice darted about on the floor as he entered, although he expected a similar welcome. Not a single lamp existed in the building, although the two windows on the right wall allowed a small amount of light to enter from the outside.

The luminescence from the village's main lights provided enough light for him to make out the majority of the small dwelling that he had forced his way into. A stone fireplace stood on the left side of the building, while a bed awaited him to his left. To his delight, the house's owner had left numerous blankets on it, along with a thick, white fur belonging to one of the non-anthropomorphic bears that roamed the area.

"At least I'll be able to sleep comfortably," he thought.

With his temporary sanctuary established, he walked outside and quietly gathered a handful of firewood, which he assembled in the center of the floor inside a circle of rubble that he scooped out of the dark fireplace. As much as he wanted to light a fire in the area designed for it, he knew that the lodgers on the north end of Silverhurst would see the smoke rising out of the chimney. Similarly, the flames from the floor fire would no doubt show through his building's windows. To remedy this, the fox removed his cloak and his pants, revealing the black one-piece combat suit that he wore underneath it. Two identical badges adorned each of his shoulders. The emblem on each of them represented an image of a peculiar-looking skull with a disproportionately long chin, and below each insignia was a brief hieroglyphic title written in a language not found in the Lylat System.

Taking his cold, wet overclothes in his hands, he draped them over the windows, effectively blocking any view of the fire which he had yet to light. In the darkness surrounding him, he groped for his lighter and eventually located it before he brought it to the firewood and sparked it into life. The small fire burned with a lazy, controlled intensity that illuminated the inside of the abandoned house with a warm, comforting glow.

After admiring his work, the fox pointed his wrist communicator at the floor and pressed a command button on the screen. A second later, a beam of blue light shot out of the device and began to trace the outline of a female body. When the blue lines completed their sketch, color filled in the blank area in the center and spawned a ravishing, red-furred vixen with black hair that fell to her shoulders. Despite being a manifestation of data, she wore a black bodysuit with red outlines – a terrible fit for the climate, but for an AI, temperature meant nothing. The fox who owned her had never understood why she preferred to 'wear' what she did. All he knew was that the eccentric individual who had sold her to him explained that her personality source was an infamous bounty huntress known for making improbable escapes and cashing in on seemingly impossible bounties.

After manifesting herself, the vixen stretched in front of the fire and sighed, "Thank you so much. I was starting to feel restricted in there. Why can't you let me stay like this all the time, anyway?"

Her vulpine owner poked at the fire with his sword and answered, "I gave you the option to stay that way all the time if you were willing to change your outfit to something less enticing. I took a vow of purity before I left my homeworld, you know."

"Oh yeah… the zero fun clause," the vixen replied, sitting down across from her owner at the fire.

"Roux…"

"Oh fine – I was just trying to liven things up a little bit. Since the day I met you, I don't think I've seen you smile once."

The fox cracked a forced, artificial smile that failed to represent even the slightest iota of joy. "There. Are you happy?"

"That's not the idea," the vixen groused, placing her hands on her head. "What I meant is that I haven't seen you act truly happy yet. You're always miserable, or so it seems."

"After I find out where my stepsister is being held, I'll make sure you get a chance to see me in a good mood."

"What is with you and your stepsister, anyway? You really have a thing for her; and I'll tell you right now that it's not healthy."

The vulpine bit his lip to ward off an angry outburst. "You don't know how I feel about her. Have you ever been so madly in love with somebody that your entire existence would be meaningless without them? Well, that's how I feel about my stepsister. Ever since the day when my father adopted her and brought her into our house, I knew I had to have her. I could tell that she was special – and not just because she looked different from the rest of us."

"Does she feel the same way about you, though?" asked the vixen.

The fox sighed, "No, not really. She always had a passing interest in me, but she never took the hints that I gave her about wanting to have a deeper relationship."

"So you're hoping that by rescuing her – if she's even alive, that is – she'll change her mind about you?"

Pointing his finger at the AI, the vulpine retorted, "I know she's alive. I can sense her thought patterns. We're close. The trail that took me across five different planets ends here, in this ice-covered hell. I'm not just doing this because I want her, either. I truly care about her. Every night, I have trouble sleeping because all I can think of is what she must be going through right now. Sometimes, I feel like my mind links with hers while I sleep. I know it's hard to explain, but it happens between me and her."

"You are a telepath, right?" Roux asked.

"Kind of. Sometimes I'll pick up on an unguarded thought or two, but most of the time, all my telepathy does is help me identify people by their thought patterns. My stepsister's is much more powerful, though. Before she disappeared, I remember her trying to move small objects with her mind. She actually succeeded once."

"Telekinesis? You mean to tell me that's possible?"

The fox shook his head and replied, "Normally, no. But she's a bit different from most people. Some of the elders in my community believe that she's one of the so-called 'deophs' mentioned in passing in my people's holy book.

"A demigoddess, in other words," Roux stated.

"Sort of," the vulpine continued, "The elders aren't sure whether that's a good or a bad thing. Most deophs that appear in our mythology are extremely malevolent, you see. If that hatred is in her blood, I haven't seen it flare up yet. She's actually the most tranquil person I've ever met." He leaned back and then admitted, "Well, actually, I should take back what I just said. There was one time when she lost her temper. A few years back, she ran into two men in the act of raping an innocent girl from my hometown. Needless to say, she beat them to within inches of their lives. I'd say they definitely deserved it."

The vixen across from him at the fire pulled her legs up to her chest and remarked, "Well, that was a twist. Are you sure you really know what you're dealing with? I mean, what if it all goes well and you convince her to mate with you? That is your goal, right?"

"Er…kind of. It's not the sex I'm after, though. I want to spend my life with her, if you can understand that."

"You'd better not make her angry in the process," Roux emphasized.

The vulpine dismissively waved his hand and responded, "I haven't managed to do it yet, so I don't think there's much for me to worry about. It takes a lot to make her lose her temper; but when she does, look out."

Roux rolled her eyes and muttered, "Wonderful. That definitely sounds like someone I'd like to spend my life with."

"Your sarcasm could make me say the same thing about you," the fox retorted.

"I'm an AI, stupid. You're making a logical fallacy."

Pushing himself off the floor and standing up, the vulpine frowned and pulled a black semi-automatic handgun out of its holster on his belt. "I'm finished talking to you. Here – take this and stand guard while I catch some sleep. If anyone tries to get in, blast their head off."

Somewhat reluctantly, the vixen clasped the weapon and moved towards the door while her owner eyed the bed near the fireplace. After putting out the small fire on the floor, he approached the bedside and slipped under the thick comforter. A thick, fluffy pillow offered a comfortable rest for his head, while the white fur at the foot of the bed provided enough warmth for him to fall asleep almost immediately.

As he drifted off into the world of his dreams, Roux whispered to him, "Goodnight, Sabre."

AUTHOR'S NOTE(S):

I was going to cut back my A/N's, but it looks like some of you actually like those things. So... here's one now.

If you've read The Oasis, it should be painfully obvious who Roux is based on. Even her name is a translated variation of her personality source. Yes, she and her owner will be playing into future chapters if it wasn't obvious enough already.