Breakdown
Kayuq woke up from her slumber by someone shaking her gently by the shoulder.
"We're nearly there," Hope whispered.
Kayuq stretched her limbs gently, sore from sitting in the cramped seat for days on end. "May I...?"
"You don't need to ask every time."
"But I would like to." Kayuq had been sneaking around for so long, reading thoughts in secret, that it felt nice for a change to follow her people's custom and ask for permission. She dove into Hope's mind, using the snow vixen's eyes as her own. "Please, have a good look around."
Hope peered out one of the ship's small viewports, where a large planet was mere miles beneath them, covered in thick clouds with a sickly green tinge. A red dwarf star, its surface partly dark as if solidified, hung low over the horizon. Its faint rays spread an eerie light over the barren landscape as the vessel descended through an opening in the clouds. Up ahead lay a small city, its buildings grey blocks of concrete and steel, surrounded by stone pyramids and scattered patches of gnarly trees in an expanse of rock and sand on one side. On the other, a dark sea stretched out as far as the eye could see. Getting closer, Hope saw a harbour with a bustling activity of what looked like fishing boats.
They could see an airfield on the other side of the town, but to the foxes' surprise, their vessel headed for a row of industrial buildings behind the harbour, entering through the open gates of a huge metal warehouse. The ship hovered for a moment before touching down with an abrupt thump, and a little later, the pilot, a scarred old wolverine, emerged from the cockpit.
"Well, we're here." He reached out a hand to Kayuq, helping her out of the seat. Once he had been paid a handsome sum of credits, the weathered old smuggler had turned out to be quite the gentleman. "You be careful, ladies."
After helping Hope put on a large backpack, containing what little possessions they had brought from Quango, he unzipped his leather jacket, revealing a shoulder holster. He checked that his blaster was charged, but left the safety on. The trio moved further aft, out into the cargo hold, filled with unmarked composite crates. He nodded to his crew, two younger ferrets, who opened the rear doors and lowered the loading ramp. Outside, two uniformed lizards carrying blaster rifles watched them with intent, as the crew untied straps and locks, getting ready to unload the cargo.
Kayuq pulled a cabin luggage behind her, but Hope had to help her wheel the heavy case down the ramp. Kayuq took a deep breath after the exertion, the air stinging her lungs, and her nose was assaulted by the smell of sulphur and... fish? Hope looked around in bewilderment, as transport equipment scooted back and forth with crates of large fish, crustaceans and squid. Such an abundance of food seemed at odds with the planet's surface, but obviously, the ocean was much more fertile than the land. She panted, the air felt heavy to breathe, yet she felt lightheaded as if from a lack of oxygen.
Kayuq's ears picked up the sound of firm footfalls on concrete, and using Hope's eyes, she saw an a howler monkey walking up to the vixens.
"Ladies, please come this way." With one hand on the blaster by his hip, he motioned with the other for them to go first. Kayuq quickly scanned his mind, but found no ill intent, only curiosity. Hope led the way and she followed, panting as she pulled the heavy luggage behind her.
"The office is air-conditioned," said the monkey with a smirk. "That has a different meaning here. You'll like it."
A first set of doors led into a short corridor, forming an airlock of sorts, before another door brought them into one of a series of offices. Kayuq found that she could breathe more easily, with the air obviously being purified.
"Ah, you must be Katia and..." A broad alligator adjusted her reading glasses before looking up from the computer screen. "Sorry, how do you pronounce that?"
With a puzzled look on her face, Hope turned to the older vixen.
"You're name, please," Kayuq translated.
"Hjördís Refurdóttir," said Hope with a proud smile and showed her Kew passport. Kayuq had sensed a change in the snow fox since they left Quango, a relief at leaving her old life behind, and anticipation of what was to come.
"We received the message." The alligator stood and walked in front of her desk. "I believe you have a special request."
"Only to exchange some... pleasantries." With a grunt, Kayuq pulled the case forward.
The alligator picked it up as if it weighed nothing and placed it on the desk with a loud thump. She carefully unlocked the clasps and opened the lid, revealing a neat row of metallic bars. The howler monkey produced a handheld scanner from a pocket and inspected the case contents carefully.
"It checks out," he said with a nod. "It's pure palladium."
"Good! Organise the ladies' welcome cards." The alligator closed the case and waited while the monkey took the vixens' photographs. Then she handed the case to the monkey, who nearly dropped it on his feet. Huffing and puffing, he disappeared out a back door, while the reptile put on a wide smile, showing rows of uneven but sharp teeth. "I'm Georgina, but everyone calls me George. Welcome to Venom!"
"Thank you," Kayuq replied and scanned the woman's thoughts, again finding no animosity.
"I noticed you speak Lylatian well, but your friend doesn't." Georgina frowned. "Is that Miss or Missis Katia?"
"Miss," said Kayuq, avoiding her real name because while the Protectors of Cerinia didn't approach Venom, it might be common knowledge what happened on Corneria. "Our ancestors emigrated from Lylat to the Quango System many generations ago. Some have kept the language, like myself, but my niece doesn't speak it."
I've heard stories about people travelling to and from Quango, the alligator thought, but traffic has picked up only recently. Kayuq concentrated; linking up with a reptile mind was more difficult than with a mammal like herself. But if there was travel, there could have been resettlement, she suggested.
"What brings you back to Lylat?" Georgina asked, still somewhat suspicious.
"Ethnic minorities are not treated very well on Kew." Kayuq followed a hunch, having heard of Cornerias handling of Venom after the wars. The comment struck a chord with the alligator, who nodded. "Some criminal elements took a dislike to us," Kayuq continued. It amazed her how easily she fabricated the story, especially when using a grain of truth, drawing inspiration from the marsupials' situation and the infamous Merchant. While a trained mind-reader could conceal their thoughts and memories, thus not telling the whole truth, the simple concept of lying was foreign to all but a few Cerinians. "When we discovered a distant relative, one Samuel Swift of Corneria, we spent our last savings to come here, hoping he could help us start a new life."
"Intriguing," said Georgina and sat down by her screen. I still have my Venomian Military contacts, she thought, maybe I can find something? She tapped away, searching old databases stashed away from Cornerian view. Samuel Swift, fox, father an army general, graduated from Cornerian Flight Academy with honours, member of the Husky Squadron during the Anglar Wars. She whistled softly. Then a nondescript Cornerian Army position, that usually means something classified... What? A photo with him and Star Wolf? I heard rumours that Panther Caroso went to the Quango System on some high-profile mission. Damn, it checks out!
Hope's eyes were drawn to a tv on the wall, so Kayuq jumped to her mind, thinking the young blue-eyed and light-haired monkey on the screen seemed familiar.
"That's Dash Bowman," said the alligator, the toothy grin reappearing on her jaws. "He's running for Governor in the upcoming elections and is expected to win by a landslide."
"Oh, he's great!" The howler monkey returned to the office, practically bouncing on the spot. "It's amazing to think he's Andross's grandson. While he's as passionate as the old Emperor, he shares none of the ideals."
"He's very popular both on Venom and Corneria," Georgina explained. "While he promotes peace and cooperation with Corneria, he's also working hard to rebuild Venom after years of destructive conflict, funnelling as much supporting funding as he can."
"You know how it goes, the winners write the history, and Corneria has practically ruled us since the end of the wars." The monkey shrugged. "But Bowman's vision is for an autonomous Venom that is an equal to Corneria. He's helping rebuild our industrial capacity, but slowly so the Cornerians don't notice."
"I assume that's where the trade with Quango comes in," said Kayuq, putting pieces of information together. "I thought a large system like Lylat would have resources aplenty."
"Bah! Planet Macbeth is the largest producer of rare metals, but the Cornerian regime is letting the capitalists and big corporations do whatever they want there, price gouging and whatnot." The howler monkey crossed his arms over his chest. "When it's cheaper to import minerals from another star system, something is seriously corrupt."
"Star Wolf helped cleanse the toxic seas after the Anglar Blitz," said Georgina and pointed towards the seafood commerce outside the office window. "But we're going to need a lot more of that Quango palladium for our atmosphere purifying machines. That's why every contribution is important to us."
"Here are your welcome cards." The monkey handed Hope two translucent cards containing screens that came to life after a fingerprint reading, showing their photos and new forged identities. "We wish you a pleasant stay on Venom, Misses Hiordis and Kate Swift."
Marcus grunted as he pushed the masher into the pot. The youngster wiped his brow theatrically and looked up at Krystal with beady eyes, the same sea green colour as his mother's.
"This is trifficult," he said with a wide grin on his muzzle, wagging his tail where he stood on a stool by the kitchen island.
You have no idea, Krystal thought, simultaneously looking at a holo-video of how to make the dish and making sure she had not left any knives within Marcus's reach. The kit had been in a mischievous mood all day: he'd been noisy and had interrupted her every five minutes when she needed to study. And the cleaning robot had gone missing, so she had spent hours cleaning the house, while Marcus was making even more of a mess. Eventually, after a long, stern stare, and the threat of no ice cream for two days, he had confessed to locking it in a closet, after pretending it was an evil mecha designed by Andross. He had even managed to pull a curtain off a window.
And worst of all.
She had stepped on one of his building blocks. It was unfathomable how a little piece of hard plastic could cause so much agony.
For that, and another reason like it, she was near the end of her tether. Still, she wanted to make a nice dinner for her family, but maybe she had taken on too much? Cooking was not her forte anyway. She never seemed to remember what herbs and spices went with what, and how much seasoning she'd already added. To be on the safe side, she added more milk and butter to the potatoes, seasoned with some salt and white pepper, before finishing the mashing.
"Watch out now, Marcus!" She took a skillet off the stove. "This is hot."
She carefully transferred the cooked mixture of ground meat, carrots, peas and celery into a casserole dish. It was a great way of getting vegetables into the young boy, otherwise, there was certainly nothing wrong with his appetite, and the nearly three-year-old grew at a steady rate.
"Yummy, mummy!" Marcus clapped his hands and eyed the food.
Krystal tried not to laugh, certain that Marcus had heard Fox say those words, but not knowing the other meaning. She spooned the potato mash on top of the filling, while Marcus used a fork to spread it out, perhaps with a bit too much gusto.
"Marcus, that's all messy."
"But it's a race track!"
She smiled and ruffled the little swirl of white hair on his forehead. I suppose it doesn't matter, she thought and transferred the dish to the oven. A display lit up: 'Cottage pie detected, baking at 180ºC, select finish time.'
"7 pm," she said, receiving a cheerful jingle from the oven as confirmation. With a proud little huff, she went through the pantry and fridge, lining up ingredients on the kitchen island: butter, sugar, eggs, cream and most importantly, dark chocolate. "Would you like some mousse?"
"Moose?" Marcus put his thumbs to his head and spread his fingers out like antlers. "Like Mister Velvet?"
"It sounds the same, doesn't it?" Krystal laughed softly at Marcus's impersonation of their next door neighbour. "Mousse is like fluffy chocolate."
After putting butter in a pan on the stove to melt on low heat, she cracked an egg to start the delicate process of separating the egg white from the yolk, while keeping Marcus's fingers away from the beater. She curses the lack of feel in her bionic appendages when a shell crumbled in her fingers, getting goo all over the faux fur. That'll be fun to clean up, she thought. Cracking another egg, she carefully transferred the yolk from one half of the shell to the other, while the white drained into the bowl. As she cracked the last egg, her communicator blared, making her jerk so she dropped the egg, yolk and all, into the bowl. She glared at the ruined egg whites and then at the communicator, placed on the corner of the bench.
"Answer," she instructed the device when she saw Fox's caller id.
After their usual greetings, he said, "How did the exam go?"
"Don't ask," Krystal grumbled.
"That bad, huh?"
"I was that close to passing." Krystal held up a thumb and forefinger a millimetre apart. "I flunked cos I didn't know some obscure safety regulations on regional spaceports."
"Well, it's stuff a civilian pilot needs to know, I'm afraid. It was easier in Star Fox, I guess." Fox echoed Krystal's sentiment. "I'm sure you'll pass next time."
Krystal certainly hoped so. Obtaining a Cornerian pilot licence had turned out harder than anticipated, and she struggled with studying theory.
"Looks like you're cooking up something nice there," said Fox, his gaze wandering.
"Yes, why don't you pick up a nice bottle of red on your way home." She gave him a wink.
"Actually..." She frowned at the tone of his voice as he looked away. "Falco just called, wanting to catch up when I finish work."
"Dinner is in the oven."
"But he's only in town for a quick visit, said he had something important to tell me, and since I'm in the city anyway..."
Half your luck, thought Krystal. Annoyed, she looked around at the mess she had made in the kitchen. She would like to go out more as well, but Fay and Miyu had been stationed on Fortuna and Katina in long stints, flying in Bill Grey's squadrons. Still, she caved in when she saw Fox's pleading eyes, as so many times before. "I'll keep it warm."
"Thanks, you're the best."
They said goodbyes and I love yous, and a little harder and faster than intended, she hung up. She didn't have long to brood though, as her senses picked up the feeling of mischief. She turned around just in time to see Marcus running off with the cordless beater, the kitchen utensil turning into an excellent blaster in his juvenile mind. Something boiled over inside Krystal, and with a few quick steps she caught up to him and grasped his arm.
Marcus yelped in pain.
Krystal jerked her hand away from him. She could sense his pain, and just as bad was the feeling of her own the guilt. "I'm so sorry, Marcus... I didn't mean to... You know what my hands are like."
She kneeled down and pulled Marcus into an embrace, trying to be gentle while he sobbed into her shoulder. "It hurts, Mom."
She felt like the worst mother in the world. But she also felt she needed a break, so she resorted to something she knew she shouldn't: screen time. "Do you want to watch a movie?"
He rubbed his arm and nodded. The tears stopped flowing from his eyes, and he curled up into her arms as she carried him to the couch in the living room.
"She looks like Miyu," said Marcus with a grin when the intro for Stellar Lynx came onto the screen.
"She does, doesn't she?" Krystal had watched every season and every special episode of the animated show countless times, and listened to Marcus reciting the adventures of the feline heroine and her team: daring rescues, urgent deliveries, and fighting baddies all over Lylat. "Want some popcorn?"
Marcus nodded, eyes glued to the screen as she got off the couch. Bribing the kit was really another no-no, but she needed stress relief, badly.
Putting a bag of corn in the microwave oven, she noticed that the stove's automated systems had turned off the pan she had forgotten about, before the butter burned and caught fire. She looked around at the mess they had made, pots and bowls everywhere, but decided it could wait.
While the corn popped in the kitchen, she went to her bedroom, and got undressed. She squeezed her own arms several times, first gently, then with increasing strength until it nearly hurt. The sensors in her bionic finger were connected to her nerves, giving her a basic sense of pressure, but the sensitivity was not great and there was no finesse. Because of the auxiliary power giving her a powerful grip, she needed to train her muscle memory to know how hard she was grasping things. She had accidentally hurt Fox on occasion, and now Marcus.
Standing in her underwear, she checked herself in the mirror. Perhaps there was an extra pound or two on her hips and buttocks, not that Fox minded. Her ears flattened. Their sex life, once very vigorous, had deteriorated due to lack of time and sleep.
Dressed in a tank top and sweatpants, she made a beeline for the kitchen to retrieve the popped corn, before handing the bag to Marcus; a large bowl might've been better for the messy kit, but right now, she couldn't be bothered.
"Mom is going to the gym for a bit, okay?"
"Okay!" Mesmerised, Marcus didn't even take his eyes off the screen when accepting her offer, eagerly shovelling popcorn into his maw.
A narrow staircase led to the basement and a reinforced door. A muzzle recognition and pin code later, she stepped into the family's combined exercise room and armoury. There was a reasonable collection of gym equipment, including a treadmill, a rowing machine, weights, kettlebells and a ring for martial arts. Several screens showed feeds from the security cameras around the property.
She walked up to an unassuming locker, which after a fingerprint scan opened to reveal her staff. When picking up the weapon, it extended in her grasp and the energy gem began to glow. It charged the power cells in her hands, and she could feel the warmth from the mystical power as it flowed up her arms and radiated throughout her body. But despite all its magical abilities, what she wished for the most, it could not: lead her home. Her mood darkened again, but she thought about how exercise is an excellent anti-depressant. Right now, she could use it.
After a ten minute warm-up on an exercise bike, she donned a pair of gloves and walked over to the punching bag hanging from the ceiling in a corner. Bouncing lightly on her feet, she started with some simple combinations, left-left-right, jab-jab-punch. Training usually settled her, focussed her mind, but today, she felt on edge. The online exam had been frustrating and she had wanted to punch the computer hologram at the time, which of course would have been pointless. But she could punch the bag, and she did, hard.
She really needed that licence. To get a civilian piloting job, or even to teach at the Cornerian Flight Academy it was mandatory to have a little stamp from the authorities regardless of how competent you actually were. But maybe studying wasn't her thing anyway. She had not liked that part of her CFA days, preferring hands-on learning.
She increased speed and force.
Fox didn't help either. Sure, he encouraged her to study. "Find a job you like," he would say and take off to his work at the Academy, leaving her at home with their little terror. On top of that, he would often work extra, like the consulting for Space Dynamics. He claimed they would need the money for an expedition to Cerinia, without ever talking about when and how that would happen. She conjured up an image of the bag being Fox, not because she wanted to hurt him, just to give him a good workout. After a few quick jabs and some waist kicks, she finished with a hefty haymaker. She grinned, even though there was a stab of pain where the prosthetics' titanium connectors were attached to her radius and ulna. It always surprised Fox when she pulled out something brute.
It was like opening a well shaken soda bottle. It poured over, venting her frustrations against the bag.
Going out, even just to get groceries, was another source of exasperation. Some people held grudges, being weary of her since the Cerinian Crisis, and the traitor stamp from her Star Wolf days still lingered with some. Her psionic sense could be a curse, making it nigh impossible to shut their resentment out. Neither did it help her to find Cerinia. The Protectors had covered their tracks very efficiently, whatever computer hardware they had left behind remote wiped or destroyed by explosives. Even though she trusted Slippy and his father Beltino, she had been adamant about wanting to see the wrecks, only able to stare at them. She had to rely on her memories returning, but her visions had been precious few, and lacking details, like the dream of her faceless parents.
Anger built in her mind and she tried to focus it on the bag, jab-jab-punch, punch-punch-kick. The bag swung as she danced around it, attacking repeatedly, sweating and panting hard, but the fury wouldn't cease, instead growing into a rage. After delivering a roundhouse kick, her eyes fell on the back wall, and an idea formed in her mind. She ran towards it and jumped up, using it as a springboard. Bending her knees, she could feel the strain in her muscles before she launched. She spun midair, her leg kicked out with perfect timing, and impacted with the bag with every ounce of force she could muster.
The bag swung violently. There was a metallic ping. The carabiner attaching it to a beam snapped, and the bag fell onto the floor with a heavy thump.
Krystal stared at it, arms hanging limp by her side. Her emotions were in free fall, wrath turning into woe, as so many times during her antenatal depression. Death and destruction always seemed to follow in her wake. She dropped to her knees, flopped on top of the bag, and buried her head in her gloved hands.
Why was she constantly denied what would put her mind at ease? She needed to know who she was, and whether she was good or bad. She needed her memories. She needed to find Cerinia. The worst thing was that she knew she should be happy. She was alive and well, she had a roof over her head, and most importantly, she had a family. So why just couldn't she be happy? The tears flowed, for how long she did not know.
"Mom?"
She looked up, and through her blurred vision, she could see her son and feel the worry in his mind. What would Stellar Lynx do? she heard him think. Then, with a determined face, he marched up and put his arms around her. For a moment she just sat there, stunned, before she pulled him in for a tight hug and breathed in his scent. Why had he come? Had he heard the noise, or sensed her distress? She wondered if he had inherited her powers, and if so, when they would show. Reminding herself that she wasn't the only Cerinian in Lylat anymore, she smiled.
"I love you, Marcus."
Nick Dachson took his place in the batter's box, and one short leg in front of the other, he made a couple of practice swings with his bat. Long brown ears hanging by his head, he eyeballed the pitcher on his mound, ready to strike. In a blur, the pitcher threw what seemed like a fastball, only for it to drop suddenly. The batter swung low to meet the splitter...
"Hey, Fox, ya with me?"
Falco's fingers snapped in front of Fox's face, who tore his eyes from the high-definition hologram.
"Sorry, since living on Corneria instead of out in space, I kinda got sucked back into baseball." He took a sip from his pale ale. "Also, that young guy Dachson is really promising, already filling the gap Eddie Collie left when he retired."
A cheer went up from the patrons in the sports bar, and Fox stole a sideways glance at the hologram showing Dachson running past first base.
"Still going for the Black Socks, eh?" Falco sucked some of his Strong Island iced tea through a beak-friendly straw. "I think the Fortuna Dragons have it in the bag this season, though."
"We'll see." Fox smirked at his friend. "I can't wait for Marcus to grow old enough so I can get him a glove and throw some balls in the backyard." He leaned back in their booth, gazing dreamingly at nothing in particular. "I know I shouldn't wish for time to pass, though. Damn, he's growing up so fast anyway."
Falco scratched his neck and his brows furrowed. "Turning three, isn't he?" Fox nodded. "You've really settled into that whole family man thing, haven't ya?"
"Honestly, I never thought I would, and sometimes I miss the adventure, but I wouldn't have it any other way." Fox looked at his beer glass and smiled. With a mischievous kit running riot, there was rarely a dull moment at home. "What about you and Katt?"
"Nope, not my thing!" Falco squirmed in his seat, giving Fox a quizzical look. "I mean... how do ya even pop the question to a fine lady like her? She's got pretty high expectations, ya know."
"Yet, she's hanging out with you," said Fox and ducked from Falco's swipe with a chuckle. "You're not chicken, are you?"
"No, a pheasant!" Falco drained his drink.
"It wasn't easy though. I had that ring in my pocket for months." Fox recalled the time after the Cerinian Crisis. To help her heal had been more important than proposing, but eventually, the right moment had come. "I dunno... Get a nice ring, a pink sapphire or something to match her fur, unless she changes the dye again. Then take a few days off, say that you both deserve a break for no particular reason, go somewhere nice like a beach resort with warm wind through the palm trees, have a nice dinner with umbrella drinks, get down on one knee, and done deal."
Falco stared at Fox with a blank look on his face, beak hanging open.
"Or... whatever you feel like." Fox shrugged.
"There has been a development, though." Falco grinned and pressed a button on his communicator. A hologram of a ship appeared on it. "We're not gonna need the GF2 anymore."
"Oh..." Fox's ears drooped.
"Sorry... I mean, it's a nice ship, plain but functional, and nice of you to lease it to us, but-"
Fox laughed softly and held up a hand. "I thought you had news on a more personal level, that was all."
"Ah, no, not yet... Anyway, behold the Peregrin."
Fox scrutinised the hologram, recognising the utilitarian looking vessel as a type of dropship used by the Cornerian Army for a variety of purposes, including troop transports. "Looks like a Heracles class."
"Super-Heracles, thank you! We've worked directly with Fara on the improvements." Falco poked the hologram, pointing out the modifications. "Stretched to 150 metres in length, enough room for two starfighters and some cargo, boosted point defences, and two NTD-FX7 plasma engines."
"FX7?" Fox raised an eyebrow. The original Great Fox had been equipped with three FX9 engines, and while dwarfing the Peregrin, it had still been able to warp between planets. "That's a lot of thrust."
"Yeah, the structure had to be reinforced. But when she's ready in two months, she'll haul ass!" Falco waved at a waiter for another round of drinks. "And then there's PAM."
"PAM?"
"Phoenix Augmented Management, Fara calls it. Think of a software only version of ROB, capable of piloting the ship when we're out in our fighters."
Fox smiled a genuine smile. "I'm happy for you." He gazed at the Star Falco logo on the image. "The ship looks like a perfect fit for Katt and you."
"So, whatcha gonna do with GF2?" Falco turned off the hologram. "Finally going to Cerinia?"
"Yeah..." Fox gazed out the window, catching only a small glimpse of the night sky between illuminated skyscrapers. When we find it, he thought, if we find it.
"What's on ya mind, Foxie?" Falco tilted his head and looked at Fox with concern.
Fox sighed. "Life has been difficult at times. Working and raising a child takes so much effort, we hardly have any time for each other." He took the glass in his paw, but only looked at the foaming ale. A sudden sadness came over him. Krystal had spent so much time looking for her home planet, every waking hour that wasn't taken up by Marcus, chores or studies, but it had all been in vain. It must be so demoralising, he thought. "Honestly, I'm worried about Krystal. She's struggling with studies and finding a job, and has these stubborn bouts of depression she can't seem to shake."
"Doesn't surprise me." Falco smirked and took a sip of his drink.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Fox clenched his fist and slammed it onto the table. It just wasn't fair how Krystal had lost her memories, how she had been robbed of the chance to find the place she was born, and how Falco dismissed it so casually.
"Whoa, easy!" Falco sat up straight and held up his hand. "I just mean she's always seemed more of a fighter than a housewife to me."
Fox buried his head in his hands. Why had he snapped at his friend for a petty little remark like that? The anger ebbed and he found his emotions in free fall.
"Are you all right, Fox?"
Fox looked up. Falco had a look of genuine concern on his face. Fox thought about how Krystal had picked up on his mood during that test flight. Could it go both ways? Was she conveying her emotions to him? "I... I should probably go home. It's getting late."
Falco got out of the booth when Fox did, pulling his friend into a bear hug, slapping his back. "Happy wife, happy life, they say, so go home and take care of your lady. I'll pick up the tab." When Fox tried to protest, he added, "I insist!"
"Thank you." Fox put his head on his friend's shoulder. "I love you, man!"
"Don't get sappy." The bird slapped his former captain's back and smirked. "Be off with ya, go home to your family!"
The garage door closed behind Fox as he stepped out of the vehicle and opened the door to the house with a paw print. The inside was dark except for a few nightlights, so he assumed Marcus was asleep, and not wanting to wake the kit up, he tapped his temple to switch his bionic eye's mode. Guided by his infrared vision, he crept through the house on silent paws, going from room to room, looking for Krystal. Marcus was in his bed, asleep on his stomach with his tail up in the air, cuddling something in his arms. Fox smiled when he recognised his old Aurora Lightning plushie.
He found Krystal in their bedroom, sitting on the end of the bed. Only a bedside light illuminated the room, but he could see the telltale signs of dried tears on her facial fur.
"Hey, what's going on?" he whispered.
"What do you mean?" she snapped back at him.
"You always check in on me when I come home. I can feel the tingle." He motioned towards his head. "...But not tonight." She didn't answer him.
Women, even Krystal, were still somewhat of a mystery to him, but he thought it was better to be safe than... "I'm sorry." Still, she gave him the silent treatment. "I'm just a simple man, but I always try to do my best."
"Don't give me platitudes."
He walked towards her. "I do my work, I come straight home, mostly, I do as many chores as I can and I spend time with Marcus. What more do you want?" He knelt down and went to take her hands in his, only to see they were missing. The prostheses laid on the bed beside her, so he grasped the stumps of her arms instead. "Remember our promise, to always talk. I'm not perfect, however hard I try, but you vowed to guide me."
She stared at her lap, her face blank. "You work a lot."
"I know, but we're gonna need the money for the expedition to Cerinia-"
"But we never go?" She raised her voice and the sudden outburst surprised Fox. She sighed and continued, whispering, "Meanwhile, I'm stuck here. I know I should be happy. I have a roof over my head, I'm well fed, I love Marcus and you more than anything else. I know I should be happy, but..." She trailed off.
Fox looked down. "It's exactly the life you didn't want, when I forced you off Star Fox."
"...Yeah."
He put a hand to her face and wiped off a tear with his thumb. "Then let's go find Cerinia."
"But we don't know where to look." She nuzzled into his paw.
"Then let's just look somewhere," he said. She cocked an eyebrow. "We can always go back to Kew."
She scoffed. "Trust me, I searched for clues there."
"Then another system nearby where you haven't looked, like Arctos or something." He gently stroked her cheek. "Katt and Falco are getting their own ship soon, so we can simply take the Great Fox and go. Let's set a date, make a plan and stick to it. It'll be something to look forward to."
Krystal looked up and blinked the last tears out of her eyes. "Yeah, I think I'd like that." A small smile formed on her muzzle. "And if we don't find anything, I promise I'll forget about Cerinia. Life has to move on."
"You'll get a job." Fox rubbed his chin. "Actually, remember Falco's idea about the G-Zero Grand Prix?"
"Not the delusions about becoming racers again?!" Krystal rolled her eyes.
"No, but hear me out." Fox felt his excitement grow. "All those teams need to get between circuits all across the system. GF2 would be perfect for that. It was built for transportation, after all. There's loads of room for vehicles in the hangars, and quarters for the drivers and their crew. We can fly together and it's no mercenary stuff, so it's safe for Marcus to come along."
Krystal snorted, but her smile widened, and he could feel the familiar sensation of her thoughts mingling with his.
"Here, let me help you with these," he said and picked up a bionic hand from the bed. "How'd you get both off anyway?"
"Marcus helped me. I boxed too hard and too long, so my bones started aching." She stood up and held out an arm, so that he could fit the prosthetic limb. "Actually, don't! I want to touch you... properly."
Puzzled, he looked up at her.
"Take off my top," she demanded. He obliged, pulling the tank top over her head, leaving her standing in her sports bra and sweatpants. "Yours too!"
He slowly undid each button and let his business shirt fall to the floor. She moved close and wrapped her arms around him, burrowing her muzzle into the nape of his neck. Cherishing the feeling of fur against fur, he ran a hand through her hair, drawing in her lovely scent through his nose.
"You know," she mumbled. "It's been a while since we had a good sparring session."
Fox's smile widened and there was a glowing ember in his eyes, as something awoke below his waist, making his desire felt against her leg.
"I meant in the gym," she said with a sigh.
"Oh."
She leaned back, tilted her head and cocked an eyebrow. "I suppose we could combine."
"What?"
Before he could react, she locked her arms around his waist, lifted him clean off the floor, and flung him backwards onto the bed where he landed with a yelp of surprise. Crawling on top of him, she growled in his ear, licked his chin and nibbled on his bottom lip.
As suddenly as she had attacked, she stopped and looked towards the bedroom door. Fox followed her gaze and saw a little blue ear and a worried eye peeking out from behind the door frame. "Are you arguing?"
"No, not anymore," said Krystal and rolled off Fox. "Come here, Marcus."
The kits shuffled across the floor and crawled onto the bed, snuggling in between his parents. While Fox loved his family more than anything else, part of him wished that the boy would have slept through to the morning, so that he could have Krystal to himself for a while longer. Marcus's head snapped around, looking at his father with wide open eyes.
A chill ran down Fox's spine. There was every chance that the kit would inherit his mother's powers, but how and when would they show? Neither of them had any idea. The mischievous little fox had a knack for driving his parents crazy, yet stopping just before he stepped over the line. Was he beginning to pick up on their emotions already?
"Hey, my little blueberry," said Krystal and booped Marcus's nose. "How would you like to go on an adventure?"
"Into space?" His gaze alternated between his parents, and they both nodded. "Yay!"