A/N: Happy Pi Day!

So, some very important news for everybody...from today until April 6th, 2013, I will be hosting a German student for an exchange program. From now until then, I'll be busy showing him around, forming a friendship, taking him on trips and to school, and so on. And frankly, I just don't know how much time I'll have to write.

Basically, forgive me if the next chapter comes a couple weeks late. I know the plot keeps thickening, but you'll just have to bear with me.

As a slight peace offering, I shall post two songs onto the story's playlist instead of one. (You'd better listen to them, too)

"When my time comes
Forget the wrong that I've done
Help me leave behind some
Reasons to be missed

And don't resent me
And when you're feeling empty
Keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest
Leave out all the rest"

-Linkin Park - Leave Out All the Rest

LSS Jericho, Edge of System 77

Somewhere, right outside Planet 77-9's orbit, a feline worked alone in the depths of General Pepper's flagship. His heterochromic eyes, one brick orange, the other ocean blue, were bloodshot and strained, but his work was far from the reason. In fact, all his work required at this point was glancing over detailed orbital data, taken from the recent scan of the system.

He was looking for a good place to hide the Lylatian fleet; a safe haven from which to launch whatever secret attack the general had in mind. Rightly so, too, as no one had any idea of the extent of System 77 technology. For all anyone knew, they had already been spotted.

Dennis Joseph had tried to insert some urgency into his work, but all the fuel in his tank was going towards his own personal game of hide and seek.

"I just wish it had been under happier circumstances."

Pepper's words ran laps around his thoughts, and unlike Dennis, they seemed to have near infinite energy. Yes, he had been promoted to chief scientific officer, but at what cost?

That amount had turned out to be Lance's life.

The arctic fox's death had been a shock to everyone in the Defense Force, and Dennis certainly was no exception. It rocked him like the metal-ist concert; it shook him like the strongest quake. They had told the poor feline that Lance wouldn't have felt a thing before he died, but Dennis found no comfort in those empty words. As far as he could see, dead was dead. He did not give a flying fuck how anyone got there.

Happier circumstances...

Dennis had also been briefed about the cause of Lance's death: System 77. Sadly, it was an emotional condemnation rather than a logical medical breakdown. It was propaganda for this new war, designed for nothing other than cause anger and to incite revenge.

Dennis knew well and good that Lance would not have wanted his death to be bastardized as it had been. He knew how humble the vulpine had been. Lance would've wanted everyone to move on with their lives. And somehow, Dennis knew Lance would've wanted to be remembered for his personality, not his post.

The feline was ashamed and offended that exactly the opposite was happening.

In the end, though, all Dennis really wanted was to have Lance in the room with him, working side by side. All he really wanted was to see his icy blue eyes and matching white fur once more. All he really wanted was to see Lance hide in the snow to scare the tail off one of the new recruits once more.

Gone is gone. Dead is dead.

About then, Dennis found the coincidence he was looking for. Among the hundreds of printouts of orbital data was one on Planet 77-3's secondary body, Moon 3A. One number had cloned itself on the data sheet; 28.3 Planet 77-3 days. Both time of rotation and time of revolution shared this number, this very interesting number. A back-of-the-envelope calculation told the feline that one side of Moon 3A always faced the planet, and the other side was always hidden from view.

All they needed to hide was to get in a geosynchronous orbit around Moon 3A's "dark side," and the Lylatians would have the strategic equivalent of having their foot in the front door.

He let his thoughts on Lance slip for a moment as he eagerly made his way up to Pepper's quarters. He was more than ready to report his findings and have the fleet safe from prying eyes.

It was not a long trek by any means, and before Dennis knew it, he was knocking on the General's door.

"Who is it?" he inquired bluntly.

"It's Joseph, sir. I've found a good spot for the fleet."

"One moment."

A few very faint beeps were audible from the other side of the door before it slid upward. Pepper was standing at a numbered keypad, a look of confident expectation on his aging face. He nodded at Dennis, silently telling him to enter.

General Pepper's office was a rather expansive space for being on an interstellar cruiser. From above, it was almost a trapezoidal space, with his desk on the far side of the room. The way the walls were slanted inward gave Dennis the feeling that he was walking down a long hallway, when in fact, it was only about fifteen paces from the door to the front of Pepper's desk.

To Dennis's left, a large map was being holographically generated on the wall. It looked like it was supposed to encompass an entire planet, but at the moment, only half the map was visible, and even that had rough edges. His eyes soon found the small white caption at the bottom: Planet 77-3.

"Do you like it, Joseph? It'll get filled in as the information comes," Pepper bragged. "So where do you suggest we put the fleet?"

"Oh, ummm," Dennis muttered, taken aback by the sudden changes in topic. "This will probably be easier to show rather than tell. Can you change that map to a map of the entire system.

"Oh, of course," he replied. He effortlessly tapped a few keys on his computer. The incomplete map of the planet was replaced by a complete map of System 77. The room seemed to become darker, too; Dennis wasn't sure if it was the map changing from a green to black background, or if it was just his imagination.

"Zoom in on 77-3 and its moon, please."

He pressed another key or two, and it was so. Dennis walked over to it and pointed at Moon 3A.

"We should station the fleet behind the moon," he said flatly.

Pepper looked at him, one eyebrow raised as if asking. Go on…

"I've found that Planet 77-3 and its moon are in what's called synchronous orbit. It means that it takes the same amount of time for the moon to complete one rotation as it does to orbit once around its planet. Basically, one side of Moon 3A always faces the planet. All we have to do is slip into orbit behind it, and we'll be right on their doorstep."

There were several moments of silence as Pepper appeared to consider the feline's proposal. His eyes looked at the map, then at his desk, then at the map again. Dennis could only stand there semi-awkwardly, swaying back and forth on his two feet.

"I do like the idea, but don't you think that's somewhat of an obvious hiding spot?"

"Not if we get there fast enough and set up our orbit correctly. We just need to find the spot where our ships stay above the same spot on Moon 3A. Geosynchronous orbit, if you will."

The general cocked his head sideways, trying to find holes in Dennis's plan. When none presented themselves, he nodded quite approvingly.

"Very well. I'll send the orders out as soon as possible. That will be all," he said, euphemistically telling the feline to leave.

Dennis turned around and started taking steps, but for some reason, his strides were short and lethargic. It was strange; the feline knew he wasn't sick, and even though he could feel Pepper's eyes boring into his back, he couldn't bring himself to move any faster. It seemed something different, something otherworldly was forcing him to move in slow motion.

As he approached the door, he could feel that same force rising from his lungs in a deliberate fashion. It worked its way into his vocal chords, causing them to vibrate in a certain pattern. It worked its way into his tongue, causing it to press against his fangs and the roof of his mouth. It worked its way into his muzzle, causing it to move up and down along with the other two. This combination caused him to suddenly blurt out:

"I miss Lance, sir."

Dennis immediately started to turn red underneath his dark grey fur. He forced himself to look at the ground, avoiding Pepper's stare, but he still couldn't get himself to leave the room. He finally understood the force behind his outburst, though. It was grief.

The silence deafened Dennis like he was standing next to a landing Arwing. Surprisingly, though, it didn't seem like an awkward silence anymore. It was inching closer to a reverent silence.

"It's okay, Joseph," Pepper finally spoke in a most understanding voice. "I do, too. He was a hell of a scientific officer, and probably a better friend."

Dennis cracked the faintest smile as some of the memories came floating back.

"And his death compounds our need to be here. There's no way we can lay down and let System 77 take such a terrible casualty. It's perfectly alright to mourn Lance's death, just don't forget: we're here to avenge him."

"And how are you so sure that's what he would want?" Dennis suddenly retorted, finding an inner flame he never knew existed.

"Look, Joseph. I don't know. I can't-"

"It's barely been seven hours since he died, and already all anyone can think about is turning him into a martyr for the war? We didn't even wait long enough to give the guy a proper burial, for Christ's sakes! After all he's done for us, that's how you want to repay him? Meaningless revenge?"

"You're not the only one feeling the loss here-"

"But that's all you pollies can do, isn't it? Appease the masses, stay on top, make sure you look good at the expense of everyone else-"

"DAMN IT, JOSPEH, I WATCHED LANCE DIE WITH MY OWN EYES!" the general roared back, fighting fire with fire. "You think you're the only one hurting here? Let me tell you something, Dennis. 450 million people are going through a radioactive hell back on Corneria! That means another two billion are wondering what the hell is happening to their loved ones! Thanks to System 77, those two billion get to watch their loved ones crumble into the dust they came from right before their goddamn eyes!"

Dennis had already put a paw out to go with his response when Pepper decided to drop the biggest bomb of them all.

"And you know what else? Fox McCloud is one of them."

Dennis did not fail to notice the flat, dark tone he spoke that final sentence in. It shocked him straight to his core. Fox McCloud, the infallible hero, Andross's killer, piloting perfection personified, was down? The feline found it impossible to picture the leader of Star Fox crippled by radiation poisoning. It just couldn't happen.

And yet it did.

All Dennis could do was stand there, mouth agape, as the full implication of Pepper's words sank in. He couldn't believe how much had changed with the universe in one short afternoon. It was beyond space, beyond time, beyond comprehension. And through his thinking, he never noticed the regretfully satisfied look on Pepper's face.

"Joseph, just go get some rest. I'll have someone get you when we have the first strategy meeting tomorrow morning."

"Sir...I-"

"Go. Get in your bed and don't move another muscle until morning, you hear me? That's an order."

He raised his law to speak again, but no words came out. He only emitted a short grunt.

"...Yes, sir," Dennis finally managed to get out before exiting Pepper's office.

The feline tried to switch his train of thought onto a different track, but every time, it just led him back to Pepper's words.

And Fox McCloud is one of them...

In one day, his perception of life, of Pepper, and of Lylat's hero had been drastically and tragically changed. The universe might as well have been in a washing machine for how much it was flipping its inhabitants around. It left the chief scientific officer in a peculiar and ironic state.

He truly had no idea what to think anymore.

/\\\\\\\\\

The Western Hemisphere, Earth

Night began to fall across the Americas, and once more, the many telescopes in the hemisphere turned to the sky. Their jobs may have differed from finding new asteroids to studying distant galaxies, but their purpose was the same: to scour the skies for anything and everything.

As it happens, one observatory in Hawaii had itself focused on a newly discovered binary star system. The major star, named 2018 Junus A was a relatively prominent white star; the minor star, 2018 Junus B, was a small red dwarf that orbited its partner every four years.

Under normal circumstances, finding another binary star system was nothing of note. In fact, the trends indicate that binary systems are more common than single star systems. The Junus system, however, was different.

Noticeable luminosity changes in both stars indicated that at least five planets orbited Junus A as well, and more were theorized to exist. As such, this Hawaiian observatory had its telescope pointed right at the white star, looking for those other planets, waiting for one to cross in front of the star to dim its light.

"Anything yet?" one of the astronomers asked the other.

"Nope," she replied.

They were the only two left at the current hour. Neither of them actually looked through the telescope's lens, though. They stared at luminosity versus time graphs, looking for the characteristic dip that revealed a planet crossing the star's path.

It was mind-numbing work, especially when it had to be performed while every normal person was sleeping. One strange, exciting, and simple fact kept them awake and waiting, though. Every planet found so far within the Junus system had been between 0.8 and 2 Earth masses. They were still working on the orbital calculations for the discovered planets, along with the problem of figuring out the system's habitable zone, but so far, it was the most probable candidate for extraterrestrial life.

It held a certain excitement in it. An excitement that they were closer to finding aliens than ever before. The fact that the pair in the observatory would get the credit was almost too much to think about. These thoughts, though, were what kept them awake long after the coffee ran out and the sun was just barely peeking out onto a new day.

So when their computers beeped to signal a significant change in luminosity, the astronomer duo sprang into action. Strangely, what they found was an increase in luminosity, not a decrease.

"Brendan, am I looking at this right? An increase?" the woman asked in disbelief.

"Probably just a random solar flare shot this way or something. I wouldn't worry about it. I mean, it's not a planet, so we don't care about it," Brendan dismissed, his excitement already dying down.

That was a far too idealistic and ignorant explanation for the woman to believe.

"This is a sharp increase, Brendan. It can't just be nothing."

"Why not? Luminosity fluctuates all the time. With an active star like Junus A, I'd be willing to believe it," he replied, his eyes screaming indifference as they returned to the computer screen.

She refused to accept such a simplistic theory. To her, it flew in the face of everything science was about. Brendan didn't seem care about testing theories, making educated hypotheses, or amazing discoveries. He only seemed to care about doing his job and then going home to sleep through the morning. All the observatory was to him was another part of the working man's grind.

"Well, screw you, I'm gonna go look through the scope," she said, storming out of the room and down the stairs.

The giant telescope obviously dwarfed everything else at the observatory. It was set up to have two eyepieces: one for the computer's camera to use, the other for any human that might want to have a look. The viewing platform of the telescope was set dead center of the main room, at its lowest point.

She sat herself down on the swivel chair and looked through the eyepiece. Expectedly, Junus A dominated her new vision, but soon after she noticed something sitting in front of the bright star. She couldn't make out anything specific through the glare of Junus A, but many tiny circles of light were super-positioned over it.

They almost look like those weird reflections that come off of glass on a sunny day...but that would mean... Her eyes became as wide as dinner plates as her brain finished the sentence.

She couldn't believe it. She needed conformation.

"Brendan...get down here...you need to see this..." she yelled out.

"No," came the distant reply.

"NOW," she retorted, then added quietly, "You little shit."

"Nope."

Nobody could ever understand how fed up with Brendan's attitude she was right then and there. She equated it to trying to talk to an infant who only knew the meaning of the word "no." Luckily, she had a trick up her sleeve.

"Brendan, come down here before I take this camera, come up there, drag you back down kicking and screaming, and "accidentally" upload it to YouTube!"

"Hah! I'd like to see you try!"

"Do you really want to find out?"

Success. Footsteps started echoing down the spiral staircase. First, Brendan's size 12 feet were visible, then his long track runner's legs, then his oddly misproportioned torso and chest, then finally his exasperated face.

"Fine, what's so goddamn important?"

"Take a look," she said, gesturing to the eyepiece. "Tell me you don't see something weird in front of Junus A."

He reluctantly sat down and looked. As he knew all along, the white star was visible, and absolutely nothing else. And it was time to rub it in her face.

"As you wish, madam; there isn't something weird in front of Junus A."

Her smug grin quickly gave way to a double-take.

"Wait, what?"

"There's nothing there. Take a second look."

She did so as quickly as possible without injuring her eye on the cold white metal. Junus A was still there in all its might, and that was it. No strange, glassy reflections, no ghosts of car windshields floating in space, just another star burning brightly, fusing hydrogen and helium in its incredibly hot core.

"But...I could have sworn..." she babbled incoherently, eyes fixed forward.

"We're scientists. We do not chase shadows. Next time, make sure something actually exists before trying to call it to my attention."

Brendan receded back up the staircase, leaving his colleague to her uncertainty.

/\\\\\\\\\

Meanwhile, at an observatory just outside Los Angeles, scientists there were studying a rather impressive cosmological event. Apophis, the asteroid that the people had been hailing as the doomsday asteroid since 2012, had somehow had its path altered. Instead of flying by Earth in 2029 as planned, it had smashed into the Moon at around three P.M. Pacific time, August 7th, 2018.

Immediately, scientists rushed to their telescopes to investigate the blast, watch the amazing spectacle, and most importantly, make sure no huge pieces of debris were flying towards Earth.

They were still working on the last one when night fell. At this point, most of the dust had either dissipated into space or had settled back down on the Moon's surface. Rocks of a certain mass, though, had found for themselves a pleasant circular path around the satellite. To the casual observer, the Moon had gained a ring.

Scientists now were gathering data on the ring, using it as an example for how rings might form around other bodies in the universe. One scientist in particular had his telescope trained on the leftmost point of the ring.

So far, things were looking up. The ring was slowly but surely losing its structure. Soon, though, the said scientist received a surprise when a strange glint popped up in his field of view.

His first reaction was to dismiss it as a particularly reflective rock, but it didn't go away. The glint stayed stationary, just sitting there like ball lightning might. The scientist scratched his head for a moment, wondering what the hell it was, and whether or not he should raise an alarm.

After the glint continued to taunt him for the better part of a minute, he finally spoke up.

"Guys...I'm getting a strange glint here...anyone else want to train their scopes on the leftmost point? Tell me if you think that's normal?"

"It's probably just a reflective rock, don't pay it any mind," the scientist next to him said.

"See, that's just it. The glint ain't moving like a rock should."

"Leave it alone. Don't bring it up again unless it gets bigger."

Like hell I'll leave it alone, he thought angrily. He adjusted his telescope to zoom in on the glint. What he saw caused his jaw to not only drop to the floor; it smashed through it and came to rest in an abandoned mine a half-mile beneath the surface.

The act of zooming in had caused the glint to shrink. In its wake, cockpit windows revealed themselves to the hapless observer. For the longest time, he could only shake his head roughly and take second looks, making sure what he was wrong actually existed. When he was quite sure the cockpit windows were tangible, he practically dragged his associate's head down to his own eyepiece.

"Dude, what the hell do you think you're doing?" he cried out in confusion.

"You've gotta look through my scope. You're not gonna believe what I just saw," he argued, half-excited, half-terrified.

"Is this that reflective rock again? I told you to leave that thing alone."

"It's not a rock, man. It's a ship. A motherfucking ship!" the scientist stopped trying to move his colleague's head by force, and instead left it up to him to decide.

He seemed to consider it for a moment. After decidedly and deliberately rolling his eyes, and giving a protracted sigh, he took a peek.

"Knew it, nothing's there," he spoke almost immediately. "You should really consider getting your eyes checked."

"It was there, goddamnit! There was a ship there! Cockpit windows and all!"

"Stop acting like one of those self-professed alien abductees. There's nothing out there. And I'm fairly confident that if alien life exists somewhere out there, it's safe to assume that we'll find them first."

He sat there, speechless, pleading only with his eyes for his neighbor to reconsider. For a vague second, he thought his colleague was lying to take the credit for himself, but that was before he rechecked his scope.

The glint was gone.

And just like that woman so far away in Hawaii, he was left pondering one blunt yet very appropriate question:

What the fuck is going on here?

/\\\\\\\\\\

Des Plaines, Illinois

From the journal of Alec Aaron-Anders:

August 7, 2018

Thank God. I finally got a new notebook. It's been a shitty three weeks, what with me not being able to write these journal entries and all. Even I don't know why, but writing these things is like life to me. It's not like I want people to see them, either, nor do I expect myself to become famous and publish these just so reporters will stop asking me about my childhood. For some reason, I just gotta write. I just gotta write.

I just wish it was under happier circumstances, though. School starts up again in two weeks, and my mom thought it'd be best to beat the school shopping rush.

Some plan THAT turned out to be. This was like one of the only notebooks left, a one-subject, black-covered, wide-ruled thing with the logo of something called "Starfox" on it.

I did look it up on Wikipedia, though. Apparently, Starfox dates back to the freaking SNES. No wonder nobody bought it; people don't even emulate that outdated console anymore, much less play games on it.

Back to the subject of school, or more accurately, how much it sucks. I'll be a junior, and sure, being an upperclassman will be great and all, but school will still suck.

In fact, I think it's WORSE for me. It's kind of a long story why, but we begin with the race distribution of your average ChicagoLand public high school. I'd guess maybe 40% white, 50% black, 10% the other races that really have no bearing on the message I'm trying to get across. And it just seems like all the black guys are so freaking stereotypical. You know, the gangsta speech, liking rap, never seeming to give a shit, et cetera, et cetera.

But, I'm not. I actually care about my grades, I prefer Anthrax to Drake, and my journals are probably the only places I curse. Hell, I dream of becoming a neurosurgeon, I can't afford anything under a C. Because of that, though, the other black guys shun me. And the white kids avoid me because they think I'm one of those stereotypical black guys, and so they're scared of me. (I guess you can't really blame them sometimes, but it doesn't make it any easier on me.) When in fact, I'm about as atypical as they come, as my Star Wars: The Third Trilogy backpack will attest.

The only stereotypical thing about me is probably my ability to hold a handgun sideways and still somehow be able to shoot accurately.

You can blame my dad for that one. That guy has such an obsession with guns. It stretches me to the end of my patience just thinking about it. And he tries and he tries and he keeps trying to get me to join in his little "hobby," but news flash:

I'M NOT FREAKING INTERESTED.

Like just last week, he spent two days sleeping on the couch waiting for the latest addition to his collection, something called a VSS semi-automatic silenced sniper rifle. He bragged all weekend about how it was once in the hands of a Soviet Spetznaz agent and of his plans to show it off at the next NRA convention.

It'll just end up like all his other guns, though: gathering dust in the basement by the fridge that contains all of our soda.

I do feel it's worth mentioning, however, that my dad is still unsuccessful in his search of his self-proclaimed "holy grail of rare guns:" the Walther WA-2000. I don't know anything about it other than its name and that apparently less than 100 were ever made.

I don't know. Sometimes it feels like my only company around here is Tobi the cat. Mom's always at work, Dad's always on the Internet looking for a new gun to spend Mom's money on, but Tobi's always around to give scritches to. I might go as far as to say he knows when I'm getting especially lonely, and that's when he comes in my room. I might even say that if I were a furry, an anthropomorphized Tobi would probably be my furry persona. (Not like I've thought about these things and all, though.)

I remember when we first got him. Tobi attached himself to me immediately, and for a time, I would get up at seven in the morning just to let him up onto my bed and pet him. I'd talk to him softly, you know, tell him my worries, my problems, my reasons to be happy or sad or angry, and he'd just sit there with an orgasmic look on his face as I'd idly scratch his ears...

That was before I became a teenager; before I started valuing sleep above money, before I started playing PC games to no end, before I started bitching silently into journals instead of out loud to my cat.

I still think to those mornings and smile, though, and Tobi and I still love each other quite a bit. The other night I fell asleep with Tobi at my feet, and when I woke up, he had maneuvered his body into my outstretched arms.

It was one of the happiest moments I've had in a long time, and I could've sworn he winked at me when I opened my eyes.

Oh yeah, and we had severe weather scare back on the 26th, but it amounted to nothing, just like anything the weathermen make a big deal about.

Anyway, tomorrow I'll probably go back to replaying Borderlands 2. I just found an orange rarity Maliwan Hellfire and I am absolutely in love with it.

And Tobi says hi.

Alec, out.

DaLintyMan: Forgive me if I'm wrong, but it seems as if you are trying to subliminally steer the plot towards your vision of this story. Too bad that shit doesn't work on me. :)
(P.S. "Eighty megaton dose of interstellar friendship." Good way to put it, though.)

Wolfsalvo: It's what I do, man. It's just what I do.