⑥ The Letter ⑥
Downcast and weary after another frustrating day at work, Krystal trudged back to her apartment, covered in sweat and wanting nothing more than to spend the next hour relaxing in a warm bath in her suite. Sliding her key card into the reader next to the complex's left side entrance, she pushed the door open and breathed a sigh of relief after checking the halls and not seeing anyone. Her mind alerted her to Lilac's presence in her room on the eighth floor, although she had expected her to be there.
Begrudgingly, she admitted to herself that she needed to visit the apartment's mail room in case an important document had arrived for her. Before now, the majority of her mail consisted of spam coupons and Cornerian civic forms related to her new residency on Corneria, which she despised filling out. Knowing that in the four days since her last visit to the mail room, something would have shown up, she walked through the halls on the otherwise empty bottom floor until she reached a red door with the Cornerian postal service's globe-shaped emblem on it. Before entering the mail room, she felt around with her telepathy in hopes that the room would be empty. To her relief, no mental signatures entered her mind.
"It's all going to be spam mail again," she thought, pushing the door open and looking for her apartment's number amidst the sea of tiny, wall-mounted boxes until she caught a glimpse of the number '804' on the fourth row of mailboxes on the right wall. Expecting nothing more than frustration, she pulled out her key ring and unlocked her box. As she expected, numerous flyers and brochures filled the box, although it seemed emptier than usual. Pulling the unwanted mail out of the box and tossing it into the nearby trash can, her hand came into contact with a white envelope with an unusual crosshatch texture that set it apart from the government papers that she had become used to receiving.
Her eyes widened as she slid it out of the box and noticed the writing in the upper left hand corner. Instead of a return address, the only writing in the corner amounted to the word 'Anonymous' written in native Cerinian. Her own address and name in Cornerian occupied the center of the envelope, and the postal marks on the top right corner indicated that it had originated from a nearby location.
Looking over her shoulder to make sure no one had entered the room without her knowledge, she ripped open the envelope with her claws with abandon, still being careful not to tear the piece of thick paper inside. Then, she pulled the envelope's contents out and realized that she had received a video-letter, of all things. A faintly luminescent window covered most of the paper's front side, and in the center of the sheet, a series of white Cerinian characters flashed in and out. She recognized the phrase as a command to speak the words 'play file' in her native language.
"Definitely a security measure," she thought. "Who would send me something like this anyway?"
For a moment, a surge of fear spiked through her. The thought occurred to her that one of her father's associates had managed to track her, although she wondered how anyone could have known what she had done to arrive in her present state, telepath or not. Regardless, she knew that she did not want to play the file with Lilac anywhere nearby. A subtle intuition warned her that the letter had something to do with her past, and her friend had no business knowing about that.
She hesitated for a second, then shoved the folded video letter back into the envelope before leaving the mailroom and exiting the apartment building entirely. She knew that Lilac could mentally track her for over five miles, but the range of detailed thought reading for a Noble Order Cerinian such as her only extended to around a half mile at most. Walking along the downtown Corneria sidewalk and trying to avoid attracting any undue attention to herself, she fought to calm her nerves as she sought out a solitary place where she could listen to her anonymously-composed message without being intruded on. In the early evening hours, the streets and sidewalks swarmed with Cornerian natives, making her task far more difficult than she had hoped. Nevertheless, after nearly a mile of walking and fighting through the foot traffic, she located a building under construction next to the sidewalk. No workers or machines seemed to be anywhere nearby, and the high-rise structure looked to be mostly completed apart from the final touches. Some scaffolding remained, but the building looked more than stable enough to enter.
Breaking out of the foot traffic, she slipped into the darkened building and hoped that no one would come after her and order her to leave. She scanned the area with her telepathy and determined that even though several people had seen her run into the construction area, none of them intended to do anything about it. Still breathing heavily, she crept into the darkest corner of the unoccupied space and pulled her video letter out of its envelope.
"Fcuo vaco," she whispered, holding the thick piece of holo-paper as close to her muzzle as possible.
In response to her Cerinian command, the white paper screen abruptly flashed blue and then faded into a shade of midnight. A moment later, an image of a woman appeared on the screen. Numerous information screens and holographic monitors surrounded her, but her appearance struck Krystal as far more interesting than the objects in the background. The video showed her from the waist up, wearing a form-fitting black bodysuit that glowed with a series of neon blue conduit patterns that zigzagged across most of her body, which looked far more youthful than it actually was.
The woman's rich indigo fur caught her eyes the instant that the screen changed, cementing her fear that the message had something to do with her past. The vixen's long, midnight blue hair fell to her shoulders and curled at the ends, where it faded to white, while her glowing sapphire eyes seemed to pierce Krystal's soul with an intensity that she could feel, even through a piece of video paper. An untrained eye would have pinned her age as no older than thirty-five, but Krystal knew that her kind aged more gracefully than most others; and thus, she knew that her contact had likely lived for over fifty years.
In Cerinian, the foreign vixen began her message. "Greetings, Krystal. If this is not you, please say 'stop' now."
When Krystal said nothing, the older Cerinian continued, "I'm sorry that I had to use such a strange method to get in touch with you – it's just that after what happened to Cerinia, your government has been keeping a very close watch on all Cerinian activity in your galactic center. A letter was the best way to get through to you without having to risk compromising this message."
Krystal took a nervous, fearful breath. "Oh no – they know what I did."
While she seated herself on the floor in the corner of the abandoned building, the anonymous woman explained, "I sent you this message to tell you that I'm sorry. I know – you don't understand, but I'll explain everything." For a moment, she placed a hand over her chest and lowered her ears as if to express sorrow about something. "Your suffering is caused by my actions. I am responsible for what became of your father. I reconstructed him, I influenced his ideas about Palingenesis, and I engineered Gematria for him. You probably hate me already, and that's fine – I want you to hate me, because I deserve it. I did it all because I just couldn't stand watching this universe tear itself apart anymore. You probably heard some version of this from your father, but you'll hear it from me now. I've spent my whole life watching the horrid people of this universe destroy each other, their worlds, and in some ways, even their own souls. After a while, I just couldn't stand it anymore. I didn't want to be a murderer – I just wanted to fix this sodding universe."
Gritting her teeth in angst, the vixen admitted, "I used to believe what all the Cerinians believed about themselves – that they were the 'chosen' species; the 'master race' of this galaxy. It was all a lie – we are no better than anyone else. We are just as wicked, evil, and corrupt as those people we call 'inferiors'. I didn't realize it until I watched our world die at the hands of your father. I watched the lengths that he and his men went to for their agenda – my agenda. I never thought it would turn out the way it did. I thought Gematria would fix everything, but now I'm happy that it was stopped before it could be used. I just wanted to end the suffering…and all I did was create more of it."
Krystal struggled to repress the urge to rip the video-paper to pieces as a tear rolled out of her eye. At the same time, she looked at her contact's face and realized that she too was crying. "Krystal, part of the reason I sent this to you is because I won't be alive for much longer. I've been cheating death for over fifteen years, and it's finally catching up to me. I can feel myself dying every day, and I can't leave this universe without doing something to make amends for the pain that I caused. There's something I want to give to you, but I couldn't risk sending it to you with the envelope. The galactic coordinates to the meeting spot are 104 – 90 – 40 according to your new planet's measurements. It's where a planet called Sauria is located at this point in its orbit. You'll find me near the Ocean Force Point Temple in the Cape Claw region of the planet. Please come, but don't bring anyone with you. I'll give you three days to meet me, but after that, I can't guarantee that I'll still be alive. Don't worry about finding me when you arrive – you'll know where to go."
Pausing to wipe her eyes, the vixen hardened her expression. "There's one more thing – and you would be wise to listen to me: your father's men are still out there, and they want revenge for what happened to Cerinia and Regency. Your new home planet is one of their main targets. Please – don't let them get what they want. Their cruelty knows no limits. Believe me, I've seen it. I'm sorry, Krystal – it wasn't supposed to end this way. I should have known better."
Wiping a bitter tear out of her eye, the vixen reached forwards and pressed an unseen button, ending the message and returning Krystal to the reality of her surroundings. A feeling of rage grabbed at her heart at the realization that her past still had some life left in it. Biting her lip, she pondered the alien vixen's warning about her father's followers. She knew better than to believe that all of them had perished on Cerinia. For all she knew, thousands of hostile Cerinians could have survived; and with nothing left to live for, they would have no trouble coming together in an act of blind revenge against the two powers responsible for preventing Gematria from being launched and Palingensis from being achieved.
Although she kept it hidden from Fox, she still felt traces of sympathy to her father's cause every time an offworld 'inferior' gave her a lusting glance or a twisted look. Now though, hearing Gematria's creator admit to wrongdoing forced her to abandon all traces of fondness for what her father had planned to do. She hated hearing the vixen admit that Cerinians were no less evil than the horrid offworlders that she despised ever so much, to the point of clenching her fists in rage and shoving the video-letter back into its envelope with a disgusted snarl. Breathing heavily, she crept out of the unfinished building and made her way back into the sea of people traversing the downtown sidewalks.
Twenty minutes later, she reentered her apartment building and made her way to the main elevator. She knew Lilac would likely ask her why she had fled the building after visiting the mail room, but she felt confident that her friend did not suspect anything being amiss. When the elevator stopped on the eighth floor, she stepped out and walked towards her room. Pulling her apartment key card out of her purse, she slid it into her door and pushed it open.
Inside, she found Lilac reading a book on their now-shared bed, lying on her chest and wearing a white tank top and a yellow thong. Krystal did not fault her friend for her shameless lack of clothing around her, but it still bothered her somewhat. A moment later, however, her attention drifted to the blue book that her friend seemed entranced with. She cringed, realizing that Lilac had managed to unearth the Cerinian relationship advice book that she and Fox had read through while on Skallis.
"I didn't even know I still had that thing," she thought.
Without making eye contact, Lilac commented, "This book's a riot. Do these authors really think Cerinians like us can be seduced with one simple formula?"
Krystal grimaced. "I don't think that's the point of it. They're trying to explain our differences to people who've never met one of our kind before. I thought it was quite interesting." Lilac made no response, so Krystal gave her a cross glance and instead asked, "How is that thing comfortable?"
Grinning, Lilac stole a glance at her lingerie and chuckled, "You'd be surprised. I've got a few others that you can try on if you'd like."
"I'd rather not," Krystal replied, dropping her purse on her dresser and opening the top middle drawer where she kept most of her casual clothing. She walked into her bathroom carrying a fresh set of clothes and noticed a distinct icy fragrance that she associated with scent took her back to her childhood and her earlier days spent with her friend, before the High Council interned her in the Temple and stole the joy from her life. Sighing, she removed her clothes and turned on the shower, adjusting the temperature with the built-in electronic display before she stepped in and breathed out a blissful sigh as the water soaked her fur and ran down her body.
After a minute, she reached for her fur brush that hung from the sliding shower door and brought it over to her bottle of soap formulated for canids with delicate fur. As she squeezed a healthy blob of soap onto her brush and began scrubbing herself, a sudden sensation of pain, agony, and death racked her mind. She dropped the brush and fell to the shower floor. All the while, a cacophony of screams filled her ears.
The extrasensory recollection of Cerinia's demise flashed through her mind's eye, but after a matter of horrifying seconds, she realized that the anguish did not originate from her memories. Rather, it came from her surroundings. Forgetting to turn off the water, she forced the sliding shower door open; but before she had a chance to move any farther, Lilac burst through the unlocked bathroom door with a horrified expression that matched the pain in Krystal's mind.
"Krystal! S…Something's happening outside! I hear gunshots!"
In the heat of the moment, Krystal's lack of clothing and soaked fur hardly registered to her. Through the opened door, the distant sound of automatic plasma assault weapons shattered the controlled tumult of the Cornerian downtown area. When the rifles stopped firing, numerous other blasts pierced the air with a pulsating, ethereal sound that only a Cerinian combat staff could make. Reaching for a towel, Krystal threw it around her waist and followed Lilac back into the bedroom and then towards the outdoor balcony overlooking the city street below.
She stopped at the sliding glass door separating the balcony from the bedroom and looked towards the street below. Traffic froze in place, and hundreds of civilians on the sidewalks darted for the nearest cover available. At the same time, a battalion of Cornerian police officers pushed their way through the chaos, armed with military-grade weaponry reserved for use only in the most urgent situations.
"Don't panic… Don't panic…" Krystal whispered, not only to Lilac, but also to herself. "Quick – turn on the TV and see what's going on out there."
Lilac obeyed and grabbed the flatscreen remote off the black nightstand next to the bed. One press of the power button brought the wall-mounted screen to life. Near the bottom of the screen, white letters on a red scrolling banner declared "Cerinians Attack Corneria City. More than three hundred dead."
The voice of the local channel's news anchor faltered as the camera feed cut to the image of an all-too-familiar black battleship ascending into the evening sky from the Cornerian military complex on the edge of the metropolis. Shuddering, Krystal gazed at the Cerinian hieroglyphic 'Aesir' painted onto the ship's main hull, accompanying the silver spiked globe emblem identifying her late father's legion. Lilac stood next to her, transfixed with fear and unable to understand any motivation for the unprovoked massacre. On the television screen, swarms of Cornerian fighters surrounded the hulking Aesir while it broke through the cloud cover over the city. None of them appeared to do any kind of damage to the dreadnaught, already too close to orbit for a comparable Cornerian warship to launch an attack on it.
Krystal ripped the remote out of Lilac's trembling hand and powered off the television before grabbing the balcony curtains and pulling them shut.
While Krystal gathered her white towel off the floor and tied it around her waist after having dropped it, Lilac asked, "Krystal, what are we going to do?"
"We can't go outside," she replied. "The Cornerians will come after us if they see us. Dammit – I knew I should have bought fur dye by now."
"But we can't stay here forever. We'll have to go out at some point," Lilac objected.
Krystal nibbled at her claws, then realized that she had left the shower on. "I'll call Fox. He'll be able to help us."
"Where is he?"
"I don't know, but I know he'll do anything to help us out of here." Krystal replied. "Here – let me call him."
While Lilac brushed her bristling fur and took deep breaths to calm herself, Krystal opened her purse on the dresser and pulled out her rectangular comms device – another gift from Fox given to her after she arrived on Corneria. Pulling up her contacts, she scrolled down until Fox's name appeared. She activated the call, although she half expected Fox to reject it on account of the undisclosed mission she knew he had been tasked with. Five hushed rings reached her ears, after which Fox's pre-recorded voice message began. "Sorry, but I'm not available at this time. If this is about a job or a contract, please call the Star Fox team's main extension. Otherwise, leave a message, and I'll try to get back to you."
Krystal's breathing intensified, and her voice reflected her internal fear that continued to brew. "Fox, this is Krystal. The city's been attacked by my father's…I mean…by Cerinians, and I can't leave my apartment because I don't know what these people will do to me. Please – help me, Fox. I need you to call me back." Letting out an exasperated sigh, she ended her message and tossed her phone back into her purse. At the same time, a feeling of panic entered her mind. She knew Lilac would pick up on her brief, unintentional mention of her father and ask her about it, which would effectively end their friendship at the worst possible time.
Krystal glanced at Lilac, seated on the bed with her knees pulled to her chest and her tail between her legs. She still looked frazzled, but her expression seemed no more inquisitive than it had before Krystal's message. Hoping that her friend hadn't noticed her mention her father's troops, Krystal slipped back into the bathroom and turned off the shower before dressing herself in the casual clothes she had selected minutes earlier. Her outfit consisted of a plain gray tank top and white shorts; fitting, considering that she had no intention of leaving the apartment anytime soon. As much as she wanted to turn the news back on to find out more about the ongoing situation, she feared that she would hear word about a Cerinian crackdown in the metropolitan area. Not knowing of any other native bluefurs on the planet, she felt especially concerned about herself and Lilac. Corneria had laws protecting legal aliens, but with the public paranoia over the sudden attack on the planet's largest cultural center, she worried that those laws would mean next to nothing if the time came to enforce them.
While Krystal dressed herself and set to work cleaning the water off the bathroom floor, Lilac's mind regressed into deep, concerned thought. "The attack had something to do with her father? Why? What does that mean? Does this have anything to do with why I haven't been able to get in touch with my mom or Cerinia in general? I don't want to ask her, but I know I'm going to have to. She's trying to hold something back from me – I can tell it's something she's afraid of me knowing. I can't go on wondering what's going on, though. I have to know about this."
A moment later, Krystal emerged from the bathroom, as fearful and concerned as before. Lilac knew her friend would resist her with all of her mental energy, but she had to know the truth. With a faltering voice, she looked Krystal in the eyes and said, "I need to know what happened to Cerinia."
- § -
The sunset gleaming through the bulletproof glass wall near the back of the Ichtosian Supreme Commander's boardroom shone onto the immense, polished wood table, around which twenty stately wood and leather chairs were positioned. At the moment, only one person occupied the room – the Commander himself, a dark red-furred vulpine male thirty-one years of age. Most of his subjects thought him to be too young to lead an entire planet, but his close associates understood that his maturity exceeded his age. He wore a long, gray trench coat with his faction's silver phoenix emblem pinned onto his chest pocket, along with a matching commissar cap decorated with six small stars that indicated him as the Supreme Commander of both the army and the planet at large.
He glanced at his watch in expectation as the seconds rolled by. Waiting for guests infuriated him, and his latest scheduled visitor had already failed to show up three – now four – minutes after the appointed time. Letting out a frustrated sigh, the Commander sat up in his chair and tapped his claws on the table's surface. Fifteen seconds later, the dual boardroom doors at the other end of the room swung open to reveal the dictator's guest.
A ragged set of black combat armor covered the visitor's body, decorated by two bandoleers and numerous holsters for both firearms and grenades. At the Commander's request, he carried no weapons at the time, and his frustration showed as he approached the Commander and moved towards the seat closest to him. As was normal for him, the dictator locked eyes with his guest and glared at him with a steely emotionless gaze. His visitor's vulpine muzzle showed significant signs of aging, with gray fur encroaching on his natural red pelt. A black eye patch covered his left eye, and a gaping scar jutted out from under the black cloth. A noticeable cut in the edge of his right ear also stood out to the Commander, who assumed that he had sustained far more injuries than his clothing suggested.
He walked with a loose, yet contained swagger that the Commander had a way of nullifying with his personal gravitas alone. Intriguing, the dictator thought, realizing that his guest held no fear of him whatsoever. Pulling out the chair closest to the Commander, the aged fox took his seat and waited for his host to speak.
"You made me wait," he growled.
"Your security detail held me up," the visitor retorted.
Frowning, the Commander steepled his fingers on the table in front of him and said, "It's still not a legitimate excuse. That time isn't coming back, but I digress. The reason I called you of all people is because I've heard that you're in the business of making the impossible happen."
The visitor nodded.
"Well, I have an opportunity for you. I'm not willing to risk losing any more of my own men than I already have, which is why I brought you in. Four days ago, one of my more important warships – the Amethyst – suddenly disappeared in the galactic sector between Cerinia and Ichtos. The last data from the Amethyst suggests that it hit a gravity well and was pulled to the surface of an unknown planet that doesn't match any of our records. The entire crew was killed, except for one officer, who managed to send out a distress beacon. I would very much like for her to be returned to me – alive."
Reaching for his personal comms device, he placed it face-up on the boardroom desk and activated its screen hologram, prompting a three-dimensional image of Brigadier General Volkchelovek to appear in the air above the device. "Should you manage to bring her back to me, I will reward you with seven million Ichtosian Ghants – which converts to around fifteen million Galactic Converted Credits. There will be no payment up front. You will only be paid if you complete the objective, and that is final."
"That's a lot to pay out for the rescue of just one person," the visitor muttered. "She's your playmate, isn't she?"
The Commander gave his guest a dirty glance and bared his canines. "That's not your business, Specter. Do you accept or not?"
"It sounds like a borderline suicide mission if there's a gravity well involved," the older fox replied. "I'll do it, but only if you raise the payout to nine million Ghants."
"Eight million," the Commander countered. "That's final. I'm not going to give you any more than that, and if you try to bargain with me again, I'll kick you out of here with nothing."
Frustration etched itself onto Specter's muzzle. With a frown, he extended his hand for the Commander to shake and said, "It's a deal. I'll take care of it ASAP."
The Commander nodded and returned Specter's handshake. "Very good. Report to me when you have retrieved Brigadier General Volkchelovek, and I'll make arrangements for your payment. Now, please leave me. I have an important issue to attend to."
Specter stood up, pushed his chair in, and exited the room without a sound, save for the tapping of his boots on the hardwood floor. When the double boardroom doors rotated shut, the Commander picked up his communicator and placed it in front of him before activating the holographic communication mode and placing a call that he had arranged for before his brief meeting with the namesake of the Specter mercenary unit.
The holographic transmission showed a blank screen for several seconds, and then the image of a middle-aged husky in an executive suit appeared above his personal communicator. "Prime Minister Lago," the Commander began. "Thank you for your time. I know how little of it you have at your disposal."
Rolling his eyes, Lago replied, "Don't patronize me, 'Commander.' You should be happy that I even bothered to set up this call in the first place. What is it that you want, anyway?"
"I want to know what you did with the Gematria catalysts that you found on Regency."
"You can't be serious. Why the hell would you expect me to give you that information?"
"So you do know where they are," the Commander replied. "I'd hope that you plan on getting rid of them soon. There are still some Cerinian rebels out there, you know."
Biting his lip, Lago snapped, "Just get to the point. What do you really want?"
For a moment, the Commander looked away from his communicator and gazed at the sun as it began to set below the towering city behind him. Then, he narrowed his eyes and explained, "My sources tell me that the planet Zharon has been completely overrun by insect-like parasites called Aparoids. They're afraid that the infection could spread here if not dealt with immediately. Ichtos is, after all, the closest planet to Zharon. We both know that Gemtria will kill anything that doesn't have a certain strand of Cerinian DNA in it. I would assume that includes Aparoids as well. So, what I'm suggesting is that you load up the Gemtria catalysts and detonate them in Zharon's atmosphere. That way, it will kill off the Aparoids and eliminate Gematria all at once."
Lago paused for a moment and scratched his muzzle in thought. "I hate having to credit you with a good idea, but this is brilliant," he admitted. "I'll speak with the General of the Armies about this and get back to you about the outcome of that meeting."
"Thank you, Prime Minister," the Commander replied, closing the call and leaning back in his chair.
AUTHOR'S NOTE(S):
Alright, here's another chapter. I don't know when I'll be able to get the next one out, since I'm very close to finishing another Parallax chapter (Yikes - that story has some problems) that I'm planning to post before I start work on the next N3 one. At any rate, I have no intention of allowing this story to take the same twist as The Oasis. What I mean by that is having five or six early chapters where basically nothing important happens. This is not that kind of story. Hopefully that was already obvious.