Chapter 10: A Fitful Rest.
The flight from Krazoa Palace had taken some time, Kyte speeding full-force through the constant downpour surrounding the Saurian holy site. Krystal was shivering by the time they exited the storm, her soaked fur providing little protection from the winds which attacked her body. They would be on the ground soon, she hoped... she knew her alien companion had to be suffering through his soaked clothing. She spared a glance back at him, allowing her hazel eyes to contact his bluish-gray ones.
Brian was shivering as well, but somehow he kept the discomfort to himself. Krystal wasn't as well-trained in the Art as her parents had been, but she could detect surface thoughts if she concentrated hard enough. If she was in physical contact with someone, she could probe deeper, but only if the other was receptive to it.
He was a strange one, at the very least. He sat behind her, but even on a twisting Cloudrunner, he kept his distance. Most others would have held onto her, but as far as Krystal could tell, his species had a taboo on physical contact, which was strange to the Cerinian. How could a species survive without the little gestures one made amongst friends or allies, such as a pat on the shoulder or a hug? Cerinians were by and large a supportive race, and gestures of affection were key to building and maintaining bonds.
Krystal shook that thought from her mind as she felt Kyte descending. At the same time, he spoke up in Saurian. "We're nearing your ship now, Krystal. Just be careful... I've heard that Sharpclaw were spotted here recently."
Krystal nodded and responded in kind. "Thank you, Kyte. We will be careful, I promise you." She smiled after that, despite her soaked and chilled discomfort.
Brian's voice made its way into the conversation, a confused expression apparent on his features as Krystal turned to look at him. "Uhm, what're you two talking about?"
Krystal grinned and pointed below them. "We're close to my ship, even now. It would be nice to warm your soaked bones, wouldn't it?" She definately felt cold; the stormy weather near the Krazoa Palace had taken its toll. She was running on empty, and the thought of her shuttle's nice, warm bed and some hot food became an enticing idea. She directed her thoughts toward Brian. He seemed uncomfortable, although the thought that he had survived far worse flitted across her mind.
Brian blinked, taking a moment to formulate his reply. "Getting this monkey suit dry would be nice. Tell you the truth, I hope you've got food there. Last thing I had was a slice of bread before we started out on this crazy trip."
Krystal nodded as a grin spread across her features. "I do, at least a little bit. Real food as well.. Marsat fruit, gulmar steaks, a loaf of parlath... I even think I have some Ranot as well, but we should go easy on that." Her stomach was grumbling a little too much for comfort.
The air was getting slightly warmer, which was a relief to their chilled bodies. Kyte slowed down a little, before speaking in a slightly lower tone than before. "We're almost there, Krystal. Get ready to land."
Krystal nodded before turning to Brian. "Almost there. We'll be landing in just a moment." Her smile widened just a bit, right before they heard the soft whispering rush of waves against sand. Even through the night sky, they could see the outline of the beach; a serene expanse of sand bordered by a thick growth of trees; broken only by the outline of the Cerinian's shuttle. To Krystal, it almost looked like Cerinia, which brought a fresh stab of grief to her heart. She stiffened, but managed to shake the feeling away just in time for the landing.
Brian slid off Kyte's back first, his dress shoes impacting the sand with a soft crunch. Krystal followed soon afterwards, a pat given to Kyte's head before she got off his back. "Thank you very much, Kyte," she whispered, "we'll make sure we do our best to retrieve all the Spellstones as soon as possible."
Kyte nodded and glanced towards her as he folded his wings up. "I'm sure you'll do well, Krystal. Just keep your mind clear and your heart filled with compassion; those qualities are far too rare on Sauria to be lost."
Krystal smiled at Kyte as he took a few steps back, looking to the sky. "I shall do my best, Kyte. Thank you for helping us, once again." The vixen took a few steps back as Kyte lifted off into the sky, soon lost to the darkness around them.
With a soft sigh, Krystal turned around to survey her surroundings. The soft sand of the beach glinted in the faint moonlight, giving everything an ethereal glow to it. Even her shuttle looked as if it were but a ghost. The jungle beyond the beach was simply a dark mass; the expanse before them making her a little nervous.
Krystal turned toward her shuttle, its triangular profile resting upon the sand a few yards away from them. "We're here, finally... I don't know about you, but I could do with a little rest." The Cerinian gave another sigh as she pushed her tired, soaked body towards the craft.
Brian strode behind her, his dress shoes impacting the sand just behind her sandals. She could sense the exhaustion coming off of him in waves, and the chill from their recent ride hadn't helped anything. She was sure her new friend was in as much need of some relaxation as she was.
The Vucsed-class shuttle she escaped Cerinia in was more of a diplomatic transport than anything else; intended for transporting Council members in comfort. Spacecraft were extremely rare on Cerinia in the first place, and Krystal barely knew how to manually pilot it. However, it provided extremely comfortable living quarters, and that was what she needed as she reached the control panel for the cargo door. Her fingers fumbled with its unlocking code, before the panel gave a quick chime.
As if it were on cue, the main cargo door to the shuttle slid open, a three meter wide ramp slowly extending from the ship to the soft sand below. Krystal caught an impressed whistle behind her, and gave a tired smile towards Brian. "Well... we're here."
Brian cast a nod back to her as his eyes roamed over the spacecraft in front of him. She sensed a slight amount of amazement from him, plus a quick impression that from where he came from, spacecraft were far rarer than they even were on Cerinia. He did, however, respond to her for the first time since they landed. "This is your home sweet home?"
Krystal nodded as she stepped onto the ramp, her sandals clanking upon its metal surface. "Not by choice, but it is right now. It is nearly out of fuel... which is hard to come by here." She reached the small cargo bay inside the shuttle, seeing Brian slowly ascend the ramp.
The bay was large enough to house two hovercars, yet it was nearly empty save for a few boxes Krystal had never bothered to check into. It still held the sharp scent of repulsor coil coolant, which almost caused her nose to twitch. Brian also seemed to catch the scent, however he said nothing as he glanced around the bay.
Krystal placed her paw on the nearby control panel, pressing a button to close the door and retract the ramp. Slowly, she made her way to the back of the bay, where a small door awaited them to the rest of the ship. Already, she was shivering slightly. She needed a hot shower, a decent meal, and some sleep, all badly and exactly in that order.
Befitting its status as a diplomatic transport, the Vucsed was opulently furnished. The first thing which greeted their sight was the receiving room; a plush room filled with the rich, dark wood furnishings and plush royal blue carpet fit for a visiting diplomat. Krystal herself remembered her parents holding discussions with other Council members in this room, which brought a fresh stab of pain to her heart. She stopped for a moment.
"Something wrong?" The voice half-startled the young Cerinian, causing her to jerk her head over to Brian. He stood just inside the doorway, surveying the area. She could sense a minor amount of curiosity coming from him as well as a tiny bit of concern.
"Just a painful memory." Krystal sighed, and shook her head. Everything had happened so recently, and she was still having trouble trying to cope with what had happened. "My... my parents were killed. Two cycles ago."
Brian blinked at her. "That's something very hard to deal with, no matter who you are. I take it this was theirs?" He gestured at the richly-decorated sitting room, whose plush, forest green couches surrounded some sort of pedestal in the center of the room. Off to one side sat a small table; Brian assumed it was some sort of dining room.
Krystal's tail twitched as she stepped foward. "Yes, it was." Scenes flashed before her eyes, the fires and destruction which encompassed Cerinia; her friends and family dying on the streets of Cassat, their capital city. She could feel tears come to her eyes, but she tried not to let them fall. She needed to find out how her homeworld fell, so she could prevent it from happening here.
Brian held back a bit. He could tell she was upset with something, but this wasn't his place. Hell, none of it was his place. But, on the other hand, the upset foxette brought a new factor to the equation. This wasn't his place, but he wasn't going at it alone. He had a potential friend, albeit a strange one... and it wouldn't do good to lose her. Brian extended a reluctant hand, settling it upon Krystal's shoulder. "Everything's okay now. We'll find a way through this, somehow."
Krystal turned to him,the tears now traveling down her azure-furred cheeks. Even through the tears, she managed to cast a faint smile to her newfound friend before wrapping her arms around him in a brief hug. "Thank you."
Brian held in the brief moment of discomfort he had at the sudden contact, before giving her a smile in return. "I'm sure we'll get through this just fine. Just keep your eyes and ears peeled, and it'll be easy street." He blinked at that statement. He had no idea in Hell how to get home, and if Ron and Sergey were okay. They obviously survived the crash, but why did they leave him for dead? He arched his brow and looked toward the wood-paneled ceiling of Krystal's craft.
Krystal, on the other hand, broke off their hug and studied Brian's look. "Is everything okay?" she asked as she scratched the side of her muzzle. Her fur was still damp, and she was still a little cold from the storm.
"Just a few odds and ends not adding up, Krystal. I'm sure they'll piece together." The young merc shrugged as he looked around once more. His sodden jacket clung around his frame as he moved, yet from all outward appearances it did not seem to bother him.
Krystal nodded as she moved towards a more ornate panel embedded in the wall nearest the couches. "I really need a shower, Brian... if I get any colder, my fur's bound to freeze." She smirked at 'him and pressed the panel, a doorway opening into what looked to be a bedroom. She soon slipped into the room, the panel closing behind her.
Brian was left in the 'living room' area, now alone. He never thought he would be on some sort of alien spaceship, especially one whose interior was as opulent as a hotel suite. A stray thought took hold of his mind and he kicked off his dress shoes and socks, feeling the thickly padded carpeting. A smirk appeared on his features... this was exactly like a nice hotel room.
Brian's sport jacket was the next item to be removed, and it made a new home draped across one of the intricately carved chairs surrounding what he assumed to be a dining table. The weight of his personal belongings and the extra pistol magazines was a welcome burden to be removed, but he kept the Glock strapped under his shoulder. He wasn't about to give up a line of defense, especially since he wasn't satisfied they weren't in danger.
The couch looked inviting, however with his wet clothes he wasn't about to sit down anywhere. Now that Krystal was temporarily out of the picture, he could take a look around. The living area of the ship was fairly large; he guessed it to be about an entire third of the ship's size, if he counted the room his new foxette friend had ran into. The place was, as before, opulently furnished; the fit and finish of the living area could have been the equal to the presidential suite at most fine hotels.
The walls were paneled with wood, however it was stained a deep blue color to match the carpeting. The table he had set his coat on was a work of art, with intricate floral patterns hand-carved into the legs. The effect was somehow natural-looking and alien to him at the same time. "Jeez. Run into an English-speaking fox alien who owns a spaceship, that's tabloid-worthy. Said spaceship having Club Med luxury... priceless." Brian smirked at his comment, and cast his gaze to the couch.
The couch was no less impressive. The wooden legs were also carved with strange patterns, and the beige cloth looked warm and inviting. It sat in front of some sort of white pedestal which stood about two feet tall; supporting a transparent blue globe around three feet in diameter. Brian squinted and could barely make out several shapes hovering within. He'd ask Krystal about that later.
Taking a few steps back from the couch, Brian spotted another break in the wood paneling a few feet away from the one Krystal disappeared into. Slowly, he approached the 'door' and puzzled over it for a moment. "Hm. Wonder how you open one of these bastages?" He remembered Krystal pressing on the door she entered, so he placed a hand against it. He was startled when the door gave a soft hiss and slid open, revealing what lay inside.
The soft scent of cinnamon wafted to him as he walked into what looked to be a bedroom. Whatever race Krystal called herself, their bedrooms looked fairly different from a human's. The wood paneling of this room was a dark red and the lighting was extremely dim, which took Brian a moment to adjust to.
The bed was more of a circular cushion set in the middle of the room, covered with blankets and a few pillows. Another well-crafted wooden dresser was set against the far wall, next to another door panel. Two nightstands were set at the head of the 'bed', nothing more than wooden tables with a few unrecognizable personal effects set upon them. Brian's senses were tweaked; he could tell the room had been well-lived in, yet nobody had bothered entering in quite a while. Slowly, the young merc backed out of the room, aware he might have made a bit of a mistake. He didn't want to anger his new comrade, as strange as she might be.
The door shut itself with another soft hiss, and Brian stood in the room alone. Ignoring his damp clothes, he walked over to the couch, settling upon it with a sigh. "Dammit, guys. Where are you?" he asked to the empty air. "It's bad enough I'm stuck here. At least they'd have a better clue how to get out of this mess."
Nobody answered as Brian noticed the soft embrace of the couch he sat on. He was running near empty, and he needed to rest. A few hours' sleep wouldn't hurt, he decided. Brian let his eyes close and he was snoozing within minutes, a blank sleep soon turning into nightmare.
"We've got incoming!" The shout echoed through Brian's radio as he stood near the road, nothing but blistering sand for miles around them. His M14 was already in his hands as he wheeled around, searching for targets. The Humvee he had just exited grinded to a halt, five trained Marines jumping out of it.
The lead man, one Jack Hilman, rushed towards him, an M4 firmly entrenched in a ready stance. He was much older than the Marine sergeant, almost forty to Brian's twenty-one. He waved forward as he crouched next to Brian. "We've got intel that the insurgents are going to hit us from behind." He motioned to an outcropping of rocks maybe a quarter of a mile distant. "There's no IEDs or mines here, so we think they're going to try an RPG attack!"
Brian nodded at Kyle, before running for the drainage ditch next to the rough gravel road. Several of his squadmates were there, already aiming their weapons at the outcropping. "Alright guys, we've got confirmed hostile activity! You see anyone out there that ain't us and has a weapon, drop them!"
Several replies of "Yes, sir!" echoed from his squad. They had it in the bag, and a standard intel op just got a little more exciting. However, Brian caught movement out of the corner of his eye. A wave of fear shot up through his gut as he saw several figures emerge from the sand a mere fifty yards away, all carrying weapons. As he frantically snapped his M14 towards them, he felt hands grabbing his arms...
Brian snapped awake, the dream pumping more adrenaline into his overloaded system. He still felt hands around his arms, and barely restrained himself from reaching for his Glock. He stared into Krystal's hazel eyes, which were regarding him with a worried expression. "Are... are you okay?" she stammered as she sensed his wave of quickly subsiding panic.
Krystal was having a very hard time trying to read her alien companion. Even through the
obvious difference in attitude, he was an alien being from a culture vastly different from her own. She knew it would take a little more work to get a decent read on his emotions, but for now she was running mostly blind. Krystal slowly pulled away as Brian stood up.
"It's just a bad dream." the human glanced over to the vixen, before shaking his head. "Next time, don't wake me up like that. I don't want to freak out and shoot you, alright?" He gave his holstered handgun a pat as he did so.
Krystal nodded, her tail swishing lightly behind her. She gave a strange glance to the weapon, before returning to its owner. "Do you keep that thing on you even when sleeping?" The Cerinian arched a brow at his strange behavior.
Brian blinked at the foxgirl, nodding at her as if she asked why the sky was blue. "In an unfamiliar area with possible hostiles lurking around? Uhm, yes?" His fingers brushed against the polymer grip of the Austrian semiauto, before returning to the patent leather belt cinched around his waist. "I'm not going to go anywhere without a piece, if I can help it."
The Cerinian shook her head and motioned toward the door she had disappeared into earlier. "Well, I'm sure you'll be absolutely safe in the bathroom, I'd bet." She gave a smirk at him and led him to the door, placing a paw on it and allowing it to open.
Brian glanced into another bedroom, fairly similar to the one he had entered. However, the scent of cinnamon was much stronger in here, and laced with humidity. He assumed it was Krystal's room, and arched a brow at her. "Well, I am in an alien spaceship, and I haven't found any monsters yet." He had a deadpan expression on his face as he looked around. Her room was in slight disorder, with sheets thrown all over the circular bed and a complete lack of personal effects on the nightstands or dresser. "Just let me know if you see any, and I'll shoot them down for you."
Krystal giggled, the first sign of laughter he heard from her. "Well, you should get a quick shower and dry off those clothes. You'll feel better." After heading into the far door, Krystal gave Brian a quick tutorial on using the fixtures in the bathroom, including the shower and auto-dryer. The equipment was high-tech for even Cerinian standards, and Brian seemed a little confused with them. However, Krystal had already slipped out of her room and back into the common area.
Krystal glanced around the empty living area, running a paw through her now dry headfur. The past few weeks had definitely taken their toll on her; living in the shuttle and now cast into the affairs of a planet in the balance. She couldn't take seeing another world destroyed like Cerinia, and she had vowed to stop Scales, no matter the cost.
Yet, she sighed... she had an ally in her fight, albeit a reluctant one. Brian would be a tough one to figure out, even for a being completely alien to her. For some reason, he spoke Lylat fluently, yet had no idea what or where Lylat even was. He also had no idea how he came to Sauria as well... although Kyte had mentioned rumors of strange creatures employed by Scales to serve his needs. Was he one of them?
As she pondered that thought, she glanced toward the viewglobe. She hadn't even touched it since her parents forced her aboard amid the burning chaos of Cassat and the missiles which were raining from the sky. She shuddered at the memory, seeing the rockets crash into buildings and spreading fire and toxic gas with them.
Krystal shook the horror from her mind, spotting Brian's jacket spread on the table in the middle of the room. Several objects were settled upon it, which caught her attention as well as provided a welcome distraction from her thoughts.
The vixen picked up a brown leather pouch which folded open as she picked it up. Curiosity took the better of her as she rifled through it.. several greenish, tough sheets of paper were stuffed within, obviously a form of currency. A laminated card bearing a picture of Brian was also tucked inside, inscribed with the legend 'Montana Operator's License.' Several other plastic cards bore a sequence of numbers along with garish graphics. Krystal arched a brow at that and then set the pouch aside. The language on the documents was Lylat, but she had never heard of a 'Montana' before.
The next object she settled upon was what looked like some sort of hinged case. After a moment of fiddling with it, she managed to open it, revealing a keypad and a screen. Was it possibly a communication device? She shrugged and set it aside, and picked up a set of what looked to be old-fashioned metal keys. One of them bore a strange 'A'-shaped symbol. Another was a checkerboard pattern inset in a sphere, under which the legend 'BMW' was inscribed.
A flash of color caught of her eye as she looked back to the leather pouch. A picture of some kind winked out at her, and she turned to look at it. She saw Brian in some sort of tan and brown uniform and helmet, standing in the middle of a barren, sandy field. He had some sort of blaster in his hands, yet he was looking towards the camera and grinning. Turning the picture over, she saw something written on the back: 'Goofin' Off, 25 October 2003, Iraq.'
Krystal spotted several other pictures inside the leather pouch, which she promptly picked up and examined. They showed the same thing; men in the same type of uniform sitting on their packs and chatting. Was Brian some sort of soldier? Her brow arched as she shrugged.
A voice from behind her was a startling source of distraction. "They were good men, all of them." Krystal tensed up as she heard Brian's voice, but glanced over to him. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." she trailed off as she glanced toward him. He stood there clad only in the pants he had on before. His mostly furless body was toned yet not stocky, however his lack of fur revealed a long, jagged scar which ran across his midsection. She also noticed some sort of marking on his skin on his right arm, yet she wasn't close enough for her to make it out.The marking struck her as being similar to her ceremonial brandings which every Cerinian obtained after passing their Rites.
"It's alright. You were curious, and my wallet was sitting right there." Brian shrugged as he made his way to the table. Krystal noticed his blaster was tucked inside the waistband of his pants, causing her to wonder if he actually did sleep with the weapon all the time. However, she turned back to the photos.
Another picture caught her eye, this time of a group of men milling around a large armored vehicle. Brian was also in that picture, appearing to be in conversation with another soldier. The two didn't look alike; Brian being slightly shorter and stockier than the other soldier, as well as much younger. There was something about him that Krystal couldn't place, but she gave the man with the blonde headfur and green eyes another glance. "Was he a friend of yours?" she asked.
Brian blinked and arched a brow. "Yeah. He was my commander. His name's Jack Hilman... saved my life once, actually." He glanced down to his scar then shook his head. "We were ambushed. I caught some shrapnel from a grenade and blacked out. Afterwards I woke up in a field hospital to find out Jack carried me several miles to safety, but he had been transfered elsewhere before I got the chance to thank him. It wasn't until about a year ago before he got out and finally managed to get in touch with me."
Krystal nodded, glancing toward Brian's scar. "Are you a warrior of some sort?" she inquired as she turned to walk towards another door in the spacecraft. If he was, it would at least explain his detachment, she mused.
Brian nodded as he followed her. "More like was. I was a soldier for a couple of years, until I was taken out of the service because of that wound. After that, I was sent back to the States and essentially kicked out of the Marines. I was unfit to risk my life for the government, so I decided to risk my life to fill my pocketbook. I went freelance."
"Freelance?" Krystal asked, running a paw through her headfur. She was slightly confused about all the details, but she gleaned what she could from his story. "You fought wars as a mercenary, then?"
"Pretty much." He shrugged before continuing, glancing over towards that strange pedestal. "I was mostly a courier, delivering highly sensitive material, money, and sometimes weapons. I was sent on jobs where there was a decent risk I'd be shot at. Sometimes I was, and sometimes I wasn't."
Krystal frowned, placing a paw on his shoulder. "You fought and killed just for money? There wasn't anything else besides that, no greater meaning besides being rich?" The Cerinian shook her head, sighing as she did so.
Brian sighed as well, turning to her with the hint of a glare. Blue-grey met sea green in a mute contest of will as his voice gave out with a slightly angry ring to it. "I once believed in ideals like fighting to secure the freedom of those who were oppressed by madmen. I also believed I was helping my own people keep their freedom by doing so. Now, I realize that if you're not willing to fight for yourself to secure said freedom, then you don't deserve it." He scoffed and turned away from the blue vixen. "Too many people die for ideals without a thought of living for themselves, Krystal."
"But they are living for themselves!" Krystal countered, her ears flattening as she spoke. "At least they thought they had a purpose which was worth dying for, Brian... you can't take money with you into the Beyond."
Brian pulled away from her, shrugging as he did so. "Y'know what I live for, Krystal? Myself. And if I die for myself, at least I was chasing my own path." He turned around to face her, mirroring her actions by running a hand through his damp hair. "I admire your tenacity and devotion to duty, but I am going to make it clear that I'm doing this because I want to get home. Saving this hunk of rock is secondary; getting my ass home is my priority."
Krystal focused on him a bit more, sighing as she did so. He was very bull-headed, but she could sense some deep-seated sense of loyalty within him, even beyond his selfishness. She almost jumped in surprise as a few unfamiliar faces crossed her mind, until she realized she had picked up on one of his lines of thought. Still, she remained silent.
Brian shook his head and walked toward the table, picking up his sport coat and slipping it on. "I'm sorry, but I have to look after my own. That doesn't mean I won't help you, but keep my priorities in mind, alright?"
Krystal turned to him, a peculiar smirk on her vulpine features. She crossed the short distance between them in a few strides and stopped right before him, practically invading his personal space. "What about your friends... Ron and Sergey, right?"
Brian was caught off-guard by the Cerinian's advance, and balked. "What the? I never told you about them! How the hell did you find that out?" He backed off a few steps, and fixed her with a questioning gaze. "You're not a mindreader or something, are you?"
Krystal's smirk turned into a grin as she advanced toward him, her paw reaching out to grab his hand. "I'm not very good at it, but yes. Yet, don't give me your 'I'm the only one I care about' act. You're concerned for your friends... and even if you're not willing to save Sauria, you're willing to help them, right?"
Brian glanced to her as he felt his hand being taken; the sensation of short, soft fur on his skin a little confusing at first. "Pretty much, yeah." After a moment he pushed her paw away, shaking his head as he did so. "Listen. I want to get off this rock with my comrades. You want to make sure this rock doesn't explode. In order to do either, we need to think tactically. We need a plan."
Krystal blinked as he pushed her paw away, but listened to what he had to say. Her other paw scratched her muzzle thoughtfuly as she regarded the young merc. "What sort of plan are you thinking of?"
Brian sighed as he made his way back towards the ornate dining table, his hands scooping up his personal belongings and tucking them into the pockets of the sport coat. "That's the problem. You do realize that in order to plan, you need intel? You said that you're trying to get those... whatchamacallits that will put this planet back together, right?"
The vixen nodded as she glanced back towards Brian, who was buttoning his jacket. "You mean the spellstones, right?" She wasn't exactly sure how they would get to them, but somehow she knew they would be able to obtain them.
Brian sighed, slipping into one of the chairs before fixing her with a hard stare. "Yes. Now, these spellstones aren't going to be easy to find, and I'd be a fool to think they're unguarded. If you want me to offer my advice on tactics and how to go about this, you'll need to give me some info." He cast his gaze to the ceiling as he noticed Krystal walking to one of the other chairs. "For what it's worth, you're getting a great deal on this consultation, Miss Haleth. I'd normally charge forty grand."
"Forty... grand?" Krystal arched an eyebrow as she slid into the seat across from him, offering him a slight scowl. "Are you still thinking about money?" She attempted to sense him once more. This time a few hazy images floated to her mind, plus the general idea that the amount of money he had stated wasn't just small change. "I can't believe you're thinking about money at a time like this, Brian!"
The young merc shrugged before smirking at her. "Well, it's all part and parcel of dealing with a soldier of fortune. However, obviously this is free. The only payment you need to worry about is finding our asses a way home."
This time, it was Krystal's turn to balk. She halted before settling into her chair, stopping a soft growl of annoyance as she did so. However, the irritated tone in her voice gave Brian the same idea. "I can't promise you a way home! I don't have a damned idea how in Melos' name you and your friends even arrived here!"
Brian glanced down and shook his head, offering a sigh to the young vixen. "If there's a will, there's a way. That's the deal. I help you get this Humpty Dumpty back together again, and you'll help my comrades and I get back home. I've got a life I need to be living, for Christ's sake." He then looked up at her, short brown hair framing his face in a way that made him look far older than his twenty-five years.
Krystal blinked as he looked at her. She could tell her comment had sparked some sort of doubt in his mind, which made her mentally wince. She couldn't help but be honest with him, however what if he and his friends really were stuck here, placed in her shoes? Another slew of bad memories crossed her mind, and once again she fought to hold back tears. "I'm sorry... I was too harsh. Losing your home... hurts." This time she visibly winced.
Brian shook his head again, arching a brow at the slightly distraught vixen. He wasn't a mindreader like she was, but it was obvious they both were under a load of stress. "You weren't harsh. You're being realistic. Only thing we can do is try." The merc shrugged, and with a reluctant hand grasped one of her paws. "With a good plan, you'll save the day, and I'll be home, enjoying enough money to retire on... unless I have to dodge hitmen."
Krystal arched a brow at Brian, her eyes trying to force away the tears. As he held her paw, another few stray thoughts crossed her mind. "You stole someone's money and they were chasing you because of it?"
Brian nodded, removing his hand abruptly. "Pretty much. My comrades and I weren't paid for a job we did for someone... the man's no better than a terrorist, honestly. So, we decided to clean out one of his accounts. However, he caught us while doing it... one of my friends was killed in the process."
The vixen's eyes widened. "How long ago was this?" She had the feeling it was recent, but losing a friend might explain his strange mood Yet, that brought up another question. "Is this how you ended up here?"
"About..." Brian checked the watch hanging off his left wrist. "...ten hours ago. Christ. Hell of a day." Catching another strange glance from the Cerinian, he sighed. "They chased us from the bank. Jakob was killed, but Ron, Sergey and I made it out alright. However, they were after us, and we hit some sort of strange storm. It started raining very hard and the sky lit up with green lightning bolts. It was..."
"...You said green lightning bolts!?" Krystal jumped out of her seat, her eyes boring into his. "Did they look like this?" The vixen held her paws a foot or so apart and closed her eyes. It took a short moment for her to channel her energy, yet her paws started to glow. It took a major effort for her tired mind to concentrate on the spell, yet tiny bolts of green lightning started to arc between her fingers.
Brian's eyes widened much as hers did. "Holy hell!" His exclamation startled her, which caused the spell to fade. She arched a brow at him, before taking a few steps closer. "I'm not very well versed in other aspects in the Art, as it was called on Cerinia. However, I believe what you experienced was a practitioner of the Art... someone much more powerful than anyone I have ever heard of."
Brian looked Krystal over, a strange look apparent on his features. "You're saying that someone, rather than something, brought us here? Plus, you might know who caused us to be placed in this podunk place?"
Krystal arched her eyebrows, studying the human merc. His interest was definitely piqued, especially after her demonstration. She was also lost in thought... there must have been a few scattered survivors on Cerinia, yet she knew there wasn't anyone who knew the Art well enough to teleport a live Cerinian more than a few feet, let alone teleport aliens from a planet with Melos knew what between them. Kyte's comment about strange creatures in Scales' employ also came to her mind. "I can't tell you much, Brian. It's possible that one of my kind brought you and your friends here, but Cerinia was almost destroyed two cycles ago." The vixen steeled herself against the grief as she tried to continue matter of factly. "My parents were... murdered at the same time a military force bombarded our planet. My uncle forced me into this craft and set the autopilot program before rushing out to help however he could." Her attempt at holding back the pain failed, and the tears flowed down her cheeks freely. "S... so, if one of my... kind is here and p...powerful enough to help, t...they will be easy... to find."
Brian grit his teeth as he saw Krystal sobbing. This wasn't his forte. He was dealing with an alien under a lot of stress and grief, and he was no councilor. He was a former Marine and a mercenary. He inwardly admonished himself as the blue fox cried a little more. However, she gave a little hope to his situation, but there wasn't any way he could do the same for her. "Eh, listen. I think you need to get a little rest, Krystal. You've been through a lot more than I have, and I can't have you breaking down in a critical moment." Sighing, he stood up and offered a hand towards her. "I'm going to take you to your room."
Krystal looked towards the merc with blurry eyes, about to decline his offer. However, she knew he was right. She was running on empty, and even though she was hungry she needed some rest. Everything still hurt so much, and she was lost. Sauria was counting on her... on them, and... "A... alright, Brian." Slowly, she grasped Brian's hand, after which he hauled her up.
A few steps later, the former Marine guided the teary-eyed vixen to her bedroom, placing a hand upon its door to open it.He motioned her to the bed, sighing as he did so. "I'm no expert, but perhaps some sleep should help. We'll grab some food in the morning and figure out what we need to do."
Krystal nodded and sat upon her circular bed as the mercenary left the room. He was right, but the darkness and silence of her room was almost discomforting. "Mom... Dad. I wish you were here right now. Just... tell me what I need to do to get out of this... please." The young vixen curled up into a ball, a few more sobs escaping her before sleep claimed her.
Brian had already made his way to the couch, settling on it with a sigh. "Jesus. I get to take on a damn army with just a handgun, and the only one capable enough to help me out is some cartoon fox who is on the verge of mental breakdown." The merc growled at that thought, before settling back. "I just hope Ron and Sergey are having a better time of it than I am. At least maybe Sazbo thinks we're dead, and when we get back I can finally retire. Blow what Sergey thinks. I'm getting too old for this shit."
Brian grumbled a bit more before he laid out upon the couch. He wasn't tired, but Lieutenant Hilman had instilled more than a few soldier's habits in him... the first being a good soldier always took the chance to sleep and eat anytime he got. Within a few minutes he was asleep, leaving the ship to silence. Both heroes, one grieving and idealistic, the other cynical and reluctant, slept silently, facing an uncertain future.