Chapter Sixteen: "The Forever Train"
In the end the entire Katinan fleet wasn't enough to keep Celestra Marquette in bed longer than another day; forty-eight hours after her return from Titania the assassin was up and about again, but not without minor changes. Her left ankle was taped up, and although she carried herself stoically her more perceptive friends could detect the slightest of limps in her stride; her right arm was wrapped from the palm of her hand to the crook of her elbow, and her lower back and abdomen were also taped to further support the newly-healed vertebrae. No one was surprised when Bill cracked open her recovered lockbox and presented her with a utility belt identical to her previous one; Celestra could be seen wearing it everywhere, as though expecting to go into battle at any time.
She would grow noticeably downcast whenever anyone mentioned space flight, though, for now her Arwing and her father's legacy were no more than spare parts upon the surface of Lylat's second planet. Captain Anilora whispered once to Bill that he was well on his way to rectifying this.
The next day Bill came to Celestra early in the morning with news that a small envoy had docked upon Whitewater and were asking to see her. The group was comprised of a select few of Fortuna's most skilled technicians, sent from the Fortunan-Aquan alliance moving from Zoness and toward the outermost Macbethian moon, Sakyo. Arriving in a few large adjoining hangars the female assassin was confronted with an exceptionally pleasant surprise--Anilora chatting cordially with a trio of snow-white arctic foxes and standing in front of the newest make of Fortunan Arwing--the X-Eternity Libra.
While the typical Cornerian Arwing tended to be W-shaped for aerodynamic performance and Katinan Arwings centered around a triangle model built solely for impeccable speed, the reclusive Fortunans constructed their single-man spacecraft in a narrow V-shape with a focus on versatility and unmatchable agility. The X-Eternity Libra was a mere two-thirds the size of her father's old Arwing, but what it lacked in size and power it made up threefold in speed and maneuverability. It was half moonlit-silver and half alluring dark turquoise, a trio of lightspeed engines equipped to its rear and a pair of adamantite lasers mounted to each back corner of the V-shaped body. The prototype of this particular craft had been released for testing only three weeks previous, and in a short period indeed it proved more agile than all of its predecessors and rivaled the Katinan makes for sheer speed. The craft currently gleaming magnificently before Celestra was, at the moment, the only one of its kids in the whole of the Lylat System.
Anilora paused his end of the conversation and idly glanced her way; an inescapably handsome grin came across his face as comprehension dawned in her eyes. Bill laughed and pushed her lightly in the captain's direction.
"Allow me to introduce Erik and William Nioxin," Anilora began as she reached them, indicating each in turn. "And Sensenic Morray, the mastermind behind the X-Eternity Libra's success. They were kind enough to take a short side-trip on their way to Sakyo and deliver this Arwing to you."
Celestra took a tentative step forward, eyes wide as she perused the craft in wonder, and she murmured, "You didn't . . . "
"When Captain Anilora contacted us two days ago and announced that Rage of Macbeth had been downed on Titania, we could not just accept the news with deaf ears," Morray explained sympathetically, a beautifully melodious ring to his Fortunan dialect. "We obliged by offering the Libra to him; he insisted that it was far too great a gift, but we give it in gratitude for your continued efforts to keep our galaxy safe."
The assassin jovially shook hands with the Nioxins and Morray, speechless with pleasure, then wrapped her arms tightly about Anilora's waist and buried her smiling face in his chest. Grinning still, the captain returned the embrace.
"She's yours," he informed her, leading her around the flawless spacecraft with an arm draped over her shoulders. "Every aspect of its performance has been tested numerous times by trained professionals; I have been assured that it flies and fights brilliantly."
Celestra ran one slender hand admiringly along the ship's left flank, eyes glittering with ecstacy. "I can't believe you did this, Gilraen. It's the most amazing thing I've ever seen!"
"All the more amazing it will be with Celestra Marquette at its helm," Anilora answered sincerely, smile turning slightly to the embarrassed side.
Celestra kissed him on the cheek.
A council was called in late afternoon on the next day, bringing Celestra, Anilora, Bill, the four mercenaries, and the highest-ranking Katinan officers before General Pepper's face on a G-Diffuser screen. After the initial disbelief the Libra had brought with its arrival Celestra's overall demeanor had taken a drastic turn for depression and reserved fear--Macbeth now loomed, a specter of destiny, out every window. When they had all taken their seats (Anilora at the head of the table again), Pepper set to pacing back and forth across their line of sight.
"We hang on the edge of tomorrow," Pepper began, never ceasing his fervent pacing as he addressed them. "A tomorrow that surely holds the siege of places under strong control of our common enemy. This day I have learned of movement of a vast force of Venomians; nearly one thousand deploy for Area 6 Defense Station, infinitely the more difficult of two roads leading to Lylat's first planet."
Anilora leaned back in his chair, a grave expression on his face; Celestra heaved a great, pained sigh, and Bill covered his face with one hand.
"What exactly does that mean?" Fox pressed lightly. "Once we clear Macbeth, Zoness, and Titania, I'm a foreigner."
The captain gave a slight nod to a cyborg hovering quietly in one corner; at the signal it glided slowly to another viewing screen and activated an extensive map of Area 6. Bill rose, clearing his throat as he did. "Y'see, other than the surface of Venom itself, Area 6 is the busiest enemy site in a handful of such places. Andross sends the majority of his frontal squads our way via a route through Area 6 and Sector Z Combat Zone; all of the imported goods and weapons Macbeth sends to Venom must first pass through an elaborate security systems screening, and many other things happen in this way.
"For Venom to be successfully conquered Area 6 must be dismantled before we press in around Andross. If it and the satellite within Bolse Defense Outpost are taken out, we greatly improve our chances of entrapping Andross in his own domain.
"However, we have a problem with numbers. Even without this reinforcement group the Station is very well-protected and likely prepared for any attack from our end. We now estimate fifteen hundred defenders, and the number may very well intensify before we get there."
"Clearly a threat best left for Corneria and the Fortunan-Aquan alliance," Pepper told them dismissively. "Let's move on."
Celestra had been pacing nervously since the meeting had begun; she passed behind Anilora's chair and bumped it slightly on her way. The captain recognized the brief interaction to be a cue they had briefly rehearsed earlier in the day, and now it was time to act out the plot they had created together. "Begging your pardon," Anilora interrupted smoothly. "I disagree."
Pepper ceased his pacing and cast a wrathful, impatient glare upon the Katinan captain; the four mercenaries, seated at various places about the room, cast him glances that quite plainly asked what he was thinking. Bill was leaning against the wall, half in shadow beside a large rectangular window, so none of the others noticed the smirk upon his face. Anilora ignored the mercenaries' gawking faces, content merely with a calm expression that cleverly masked the intricate plans he, Celestra, and Bill had laid out. Seeing no further comment coming from the human Pepper snapped, "Explain yourself."
"Certainly." Anilora nodded for Bill to sit and he stood himself, studying the leather backing of his chair for several moments before continuing. "Right now you are making several decisions that will, in the end, play right into Andross's hands."
The general's face reddened vividly and everyone at the table leaned back as one, awaiting the impending explosion. Anilora's heartbeat quickened, knowing he was crossing a fine line with his only real superior, but dismissed any further apprehensions in the face of punishment to follow the plan.
"You will forgive me for drawing my own conclusions, but you have worked out the finer points of the split in forces?"
Falco and Fox exchanged a questioning glance at this; Peppy piped right up and asked, "'Split in forces'?"
"Of course," Anilora agreed cordially. "Two paths lead to Venom's surface; we hardly have time to shuffle from one place to the other and hope to retain the element of surprise."
"Thus a sundering is soon to be in order," Pepper explained, still surveying Anilora with intense disapproval. "The alliance goes with me; an envoy from Zoness joins the Katinans."
Anilora tapped one finger against his chin, sifting carefully through his interweaving plots. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Celestra trying to get his attention; his eyes flashed to her, and as quickly and inconspicuously as possible she blew a puff of hot breath upon the window and wrote 'Frost' in the steam. "Look to the future with me, General, and you will see one small factor that will play a larger role and become lethal to you if you insist on passing through Area 6."
Pepper was silent, brooding; Celestra and Bill took the opportunity to wink at one another for their brilliance before turning and gazing in separate directions. Anilora cleared his throat and gently prompted, "Reivin Frost."
Pepper blinked. "The assassin? I know all about him."
"Do you? Then you already knew that where the fighting is greatest is where he will be?" Celestra mocked, crossing her arms and leaning against the southern wall. "The mercenaries can't handle him in the air, and if given a fraction of an opportunity he will obliterate your entire fleet by himself. I know that sounds crazy, but--"
"Now see here!" Pepper shrieked, eyes on fire with rage; the mercenaries and the other Katinan officers cowered in fear, and although this had been forseen to the three conspirators Celestra, Bill, and Anilora also grew slightly anxious. "Marquette, I've given you a free reign, always. You may be under my employment but I've often allowed you to make your own decisions. But no more! I refuse to allow you to cause mass chaos within the ranks when we are so near to accomplishing our goal! You will either submit to my wishes and fight beside me for the gain of all Lylat, or our contract has reached its end. What say you?!"
Celestra glanced out the window, heart racing. This was the rehearsed bit that would be the most difficult to execute, simply because it was something she didn't wish to do at all. The next stage had been entirely Bill's idea, and after hearing it Anilora had backed him enthusiastically, but the very idea set off warning bells in the assassin's mind. Anilora watched her internal struggle with a sinking sensation deep in his stomach, certain that she would back out in the crucial stage and leave him and Bill hanging; Bill watched carefully, masking the doubts in his eyes. Then Celestra looked up, resignation sparkling within the depths of her icy-blue eyes, and said, "Do what you will."
Pepper sighed, shaking his head at her in dismay. "You always had too much individualism for this operation, Marquette; it constantly placed us in jeopardy. I regret having to do this, but I will not risk mutiny in this stage of the war--I'm letting you go."
'Just as planned,' Anilora thought, mentally breathing a sigh of relief as he allowed a feigned look of shock to cross his face.
'Took the bait, stupid fool!' Bill thought excitedly, then he erupted in a wonderful act of protest. "Ya . . . ya can't! Think about what you're sayin'!"
Celestra lifted one slender hand to quiet her two conspirators and the mercenaries, who truly were acting in hostility at Pepper's decision. "We each have made our choices. And may I say that choices mold the chooser in this war."
"We're moving on," the general growled maliciously, and the room reluctantly returned to a tense state of obedience. "Gilraen, you seem to have some particular design laid out for the split; in God's name, speak it."
"With pleasure. I have little doubt that Reivin Frost, ever unpredictable, will serve as Andross's wild-card at the end of all things, as Celestra has already speculated for you; similarly I feel that the moves he makes will remain one step ahead of yours." The Cornerian general swelled to the ominous point of bursting, so Anilora hurried on. "Do not see it as a doubting mind against your decisions or your abilities--see it instead as an intuitive mind striving to see all ends of the situation. There are few in this galaxy that could ever hope to match Frost in any manner; leave Area 6 to those who have combated against him in the past."
Pepper seemed to calm a bit at Anilora's continued impassive demeanor, going so far as to ask, "Of whom do you speak?"
"Why, myself and Bill, of course."
Falco couldn't stand the injustice of Pepper's decisions any longer; inconspicuously he leaned over to Fox and murmured, "Why did we all just sit here and twiddle our thumbs while Celestra got canned?"
"Anilora's got a plan," the vulpine dared to whisper back, eyes never leaving the exchange. "It's obvious in the way he talks; he's got Celestra and Bill in on it too, they're both more reserved than they should be at a time like this. Keep quiet and see how it plays out."
"So you're asking me," Pepper mused slowly, mulling over the details in his mind, "to pursue your original course into Bolse while you take up mind in Area 6?"
Violet eyes still reflecting nothing incriminating to his situation, the Katinan captain merely nodded. Celestra and Bill tried not to look too impressed with how well their accomplice was handling the plan.
"Preposterous," Pepper scoffed, waving the notion aside and setting to his pacing again. "You will be so sorely outnumbered that you will hand them an important victory that we cannot afford."
"It is tact and not strength that will decide the victor of this battle, Aronius," Anilora corrected quietly.
A disbelieving hush hovered about the room; no one addressed the general of the Cornerian army in such an impassive and informal manner! Pepper seemed on the verge of rudely reminding the captain of this when Anilora finished, "Trust my judgment, General, as you once did. We are still allies, are we not? Do not forget what that means."
Pepper blinked stupidly a few times, mouth gaping slightly as he and Anilora engaged in a bit of a staring contest. After many long, tense moments the former looked away in shame. "Indeed; I have not forgotten. I . . . will go to Bolse."
"Excellent," Anilora replied cheerfully, clapping his hands together once in compliance and thus lifting the mystified stupor from the room. "Whether we win or lose at Macbeth today I will make for the pass within Sector Z Combat Zone, afterward to strike at the Station. Celestra, I will leave you to deal with Frost when the time comes--"
"Excuse me?" Pepper asked skeptically. "I have made it quite clear that Celestra is no longer involved in these affairs."
Now the brilliant eyes flashed, unable to contain their owner's excitement; across the room Celestra and Bill visually shared an ecstatic grin of victory, and suddenly all became clear to Pepper and he felt outmatched indeed. "That isn't entirely accurate, I'm afraid," Anilora began again. "You assured us all that she is no longer under your orders or accepting pay, but said nothing concerning her further involvement."
"I assume you're making a point?" the general quipped in annoyance.
"Of course." Anilora inhaled sharply and turned his gaze upon Celestra, who surveyed him intently and nodded her approval. "You see, I can think of no better person to handle the assassin than another assassin--"
"I forbid it," Pepper interrupted in vain.
"--namely, this assassin--"
"Out of the question!"
"--who will now answer to my orders and do specifically as I bid," Anilora finished, undaunted. "Celestra Marquette is a Katinan assassin now, and you can rest assured that I will not relinquish her uses or, more importantly, her support, over such trivial matters as you have."
"There's the fine print we forgot to mention, General," Celestra smiled sweetly.
Pepper puffed up indignantly like a bullfrog. "I will--"
"Make your threats, General," Anilora warned, and everyone in the room was staring at him now as though he had committed some blasphemous act (save Celestra and Bill). "There is nothing you can say that I do not have a counter for."
Falco looked from the resolute Katinan captain, to the smug Macbethian assassin, and finally to the amused Katinan assassin and sighed. Never before had he seen a trio of people with such limitless faith in each other.
"More fine print, Gen'ral," Bill quipped, now smiling broadly.
"I suppose I'll just leave you in charge of the siege of Macbeth, then, since you seem so keen on depriving me of power!" Pepper shrieked, and the screen abruptly blackened. Celestra and Bill burst into fits of hysteric laughter, sharing an enthusiastic high-five; Anilora slumped back in his chair, exhausted from the verbal battle he had only just won, and the mercenaries all stared at one another, perfectly speechless.
"Nicely played, Gilraen," Celestra congratulated with a chuckle, and with that she left the room.
"Listen to me now, all of you," Anilora bade the remaining group, a measure of apprehension returning to his voice. "Pepper's attitude, though not unexpected and certainly not without provocation, changes everything. We must work hard now to make Macbeth ours, a task that largely falls upon Celestra. Bill?"
The male assassin abandoned his grin and snapped to attention. "Yes, Cap'n?"
"Give the order for the fleet to prepare for battle. Let it be known that we depart to strike Macbeth within three hours."
"Gotcha," Bill affirmed, and he swept out after Celestra. Anilora turned to Slippy and Peppy.
"I'm counting on the pair of you to see that every Arwing we possess is in top working order. I beg you, do not fail me."
Slippy rose, shooting the captain a thumbs-up; Peppy saluted, and the pair departed for the technicians bay with the head of that department, Jered Nasmun. Anilora walked around the table once, eyeing his four primary lieutenants, before his gaze settled upon Fox. "I hesitate to give you orders, as you are still in Pepper's control and not mine . . . "
Fox waved a hand in dismissal and got to his feet. "We as a group trust your judgment; order away."
"I appreciate your support." The captain pointed to his lieutenants, summoning them to his side, and beckoned for Fox to join him. "I need the five of you to go now and lay out your offensive plans for the approaching battle. The Venomians will defend it well, but we aren't worried about taking it from them."
"Why not?" the mercenary leader asked.
"Because the success of this mission lies with Celestra and Falco." Anilora bade them to exit and showed a shadow of a smile when the avian flinched and looked up with surprise. "You see, taking Andross's most important means of weapon and good supply is far too risky, chiefly because he will use any means necessary to recover it. So, quite the opposite of making it ours, we will destroy it."
Falco cocked an eyebrow curiously at the captain, then jumped again when he realized that he and Anilora were alone in the room, left to discuss what would undoubtedly be the most emotional mission they had ever endured with Celestra by far. "But . . . how much could we benefit by usurping it? That's gotta be the site of his biggest weapons stockpile!"
"Yes, I'm aware, and that's primarily why we're disposing of it. What do you think would become of us if we were attacking Venom and reinforcements arrived, only to destroy us with weapons that were, at one time, in our possession? I refused to let the general head this advance simply because he was blind to the possibility. It could destroy us. He will come around if we succeed today, and these feuds will come to an end.
"But on to your task, the greatest and most dangerous of them all. I have a small two-man cruiser in the docking bay set aside specifically for your usage; Falco, I would like for you to pilot it when we have the coordinates set on the Forever Train."
Falco stared. "Me? Why?"
Anilora offered a reassuring smile. "I trust in your flying skills. Celestra's task is something along the lines of suicidal, and she will need for you to be close by when it is near completion . . . "
The Katinan cruiser Dark Horse veered away from its large fleet, spiraling down through the atmosphere in the direction of Macbeth's most populated city, Damiya. Falco had no difficulties whatsoever maneuvering the craft; Katinan ships had always been more to his liking.
Celestra stared back at the hovering mass of ships, wishing that Anilora and Bill were not so far away at this moment. No one could help her with the task today; although she harbored no doubts that the men behind her would easily take the supply depot, the success of the mission depended upon the success of the female assassin.
Damiya, the City of Silver Tracks, was by far the most important city to the conductors of the Forever Train. No fewer than twelve sets of train tracks passed through the town in complex places, bound for other, smaller towns across Macbeth. Celestra vividly remembered engaging her childhood friends in their daily games on the outskirts of Damiya after she failed each day to touch the steam engine; she could recall the scent of the exhaust, the sound it made squealing down the tracks as it made for the supply depot--
Celestra looked away from the window, eyes settling instead upon the avian expertly handling the controls.
"You okay?" he asked her half-mindedly, checking the progress of the train as it chugged speedily along in their direction.
The assassin made to say 'yes', but all that came out was a little pained sigh.
Falco tried not to react to the feeling of helplessness he felt at the frightened sound. "Better get your belt; it'll be under us pretty soon."
Setting the cruiser on autopilot Falco rose, fumbling with an emergency bungee cord as Celestra strapped the utility belt about her waist. She was donning a pair of black leather gloves with the fabric covering the fingers cut out when Falco began equipping a bungee vest to the assassin's upper torso, latching the cord to a metal ring sewn to the back of the vest and ensuring its stability. Celestra nervously tightened her ponytail; Falco wished he could set her mind at ease.
"Ready?"
Celestra nodded, straightening the fastenings. "Don't follow too close; they'll get suspicious."
Falco gripped her shoulders tightly, attempting in vain to massage out the tense knots of muscle he came in contact with. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
"Yeah; yeah, I'm sure."
Off in the distance a shrill whistle rent the air, the symbol of doom for a broken and tormented seven-year-old, the sleepless nights and endless days of the assassin. Falco skittered back to the helm, ready to follow, assessing the train's speed and locking it into the ships' database. Celestra tugged again at the bungee cord, then latched it to the handle of the exit hatch. The cruiser lurched as it took off in pursuit and the assassin threw the hatch open, bracing against the whipping wind and glancing down.
All color left her face. There, chugging along beneath the underside of Dark Horse, was Macbeth's heart and soul, the Forever Train.
'Hey, Celest! Did you touch it?'
Celestra's eyes widened, glimpsing the past, watching a completely different person rising from the ground to join her friends.
'Nah. But one of these days . . . I'll ride the Forever Train home!'
"That day is today," Celestra promised, and she spread her arms wide and jumped.
For a few frozen seconds she descended toward the gleaming silver steam engine, and a million ways in which this stage of the mission could go wrong flashed through her head. But then her cold, merciless eyes narrowed and she stretched her arms out toward the titanium guardrail at the rear of the caboose. Her hands slapped against the bar, retaining wonderful girp thanks to the leather gloves; her newly-healed wrist seared with pain as her arms absorbed her weight; the bandages strained, but with a grunt of effort Celestra hauled herself over the rail to stand upright. Above in the cockpit of the small Katinan cruiser Falco flashed an ecstatic smile and a thumbs-up; the assassin wrestled out of the bungee vest and unsheathed her switchblades.
"I finally touched you," Celestra muttered to the train, and unlocking the door with Anilora's magical key she slipped soundlessly inside. The door eased shut behind the assassin, and Falco veered away with a leaden heart to join his mercenary leader and the Katinan fleet.
"Rash, Marquette; too rash."
Leon Powalski snickered to himself as he watched the female assassin bungee jump from the cruiser to the caboose; he was reclining comfortably in the conductors' chair at the controls in the locomotive, treated to the action by a G-Diffuser screen on the wall across from him. The real conductor, a burly old baboon with black, mottled fur and unnaturally bulbous lips, continued to mutter to himself his supreme displeasure of having a vicious mercenary in charge of his train. The chameleon cackled his amusement when Celestra disappeared into the rear car, then clicked a button, bringing up an irritable-looking Reivin Frost.
"Despite all of my efforts she is aboard the train," Leon informed the raven calmly. "She will work her way up until she has assumed control."
"Regrettably I do not have my Lord's permission to pay Celestra a visit," Reivin snapped, eyes clearly reflecting his vindictive mood. "Therefore I must leave this important task up to you, Leon--kill her if you must, but she must not get the train."
Leon coiled his tail lazily and slouched lower in his chair. "Consider it done. How long before the Cornerians close in about the weapons outpost?"
"They have already deployed, but they lack their full estimated numbers," the male assassin responded, seemingly confused by the situation. "I don't know precisely what Aronius Pepper is playing at, but Andross expects the general to gain control of the supply depot." Now Reivin grinned, a malevolent glint in his cold green eyes. "It doesn't matter if we lose it; we will only reclaim it and attack them from behind later. Frost, out."
Stretching his arms the chameleon rose, rubbing out a crick in his neck as he turned to the conductor. "Tell me, good sir: is that escape hatch--" Here he pointed nonchalantly at the ceiling, "--accessible from the car behind this one?"
"Of course it is," the old baboon snapped, crossing his arms defensively.
"Well, then I ought to get on the roof. If there is a way to get here from there, Celestra Marquette will find it." Leon whisked out two wicked knives, then paused and glanced back. "The game has changed this day, for we have taken the homeland of the greatest rival assassin in all of Lylat. Much unexpected becomes reality when the game becomes personal."
"They've got the train heading toward the next city," Celestra reported into the wristwatch holographic communicator she always wore. "I need an estimate of how much time I've got to get in control before we pass the supply depot."
Slippy, whose Arwing was tailing Bill's as the Katinan fleet penetrated Macbethian airspace, typed a few commands upon his computer console. "In twelve minutes or so the train will have passed the final set of tracks that lead to it from where you are; you're really going to have to move."
Slinking soundlessly to the other end of her current car Celestra inserted the key and snuck into the next car, peering all about with her switchblades at the ready. "I can make it by then. What's your position?"
"Anilora's flagship is leading the other cruisers into an attack formation; as soon as Falco gets here he and Fox and Bill will lead the first squadron in head-on. Peppy and I are waiting with reinforcements and expect to see a pretty rowdy fight."
"Pity I'll be missing it." The assassin's keen ears sensed footsteps moving toward her car, and in one fluid motion she had clicked off the communication device and flung herself effortlessly beneath one of the benches in the rear of the car. Ahead the compartment slid open; a pair of grey boots started cautiously down the aisle. Apparently the train staff was aware of her presence.
Carefully Celestra fumbled with one of the butterfly knives in her combat boot, sliding one switchblade delicately between her teeth; with an almost casual flick of her wrist she sent the knife spinning through the air. It whizzed across the aisle and landed with a dull 'thunk' in the arm of one seat. Curious and clearly on-edge, the grey boots turned toward the disturbance.
Rising, enchanted boots responding to her urge for silence, the assassin clamped one hand down over the soldiers' mouth and deftly slit his throat with a single swift movement. The man died instantly, painlessly; wasting no time, she dropped him into the seat and wiped her red-stained blade on his shirt.
Then she cursed herself. She had wasted twenty seconds on a useless kill.
Dark Horse drifted into the head position of the first squadron, leading Fox, Bill, and two hundred and fifty Katinan Arwings down toward the supply depot. A massive dome-shaped building nearly as big as the Venomian mothership that had attacked Nexxus months previous, the site for mass weapon and good production was truly an impressive and intimidating structure. As the frontal attack force descende a tirade of air raid sirens shrieked in warning; almost immediately Venomians poured out of doors and windows, stumbling to their spacecraft.
"Come in, Cap'n!" Bill announced, veering right to busy himself with disposing of the enemy spacecraft. "We have been engaged. Request permission to return fire, copy?"
Captain Anilora was at the side of the pilot of Whitewater, watching his fleet progress in small chunks toward their target. "Permission granted, but proceed with caution. We want them to think we attack with the intention of taking it from them."
"Copy that." The male assassin swept low toward the ground, devestating the stray enemy ships. "Everybody got that? Attack, but not at full force."
"Should we be expecting our friends the mercenaries anytime soon?" Fox asked, diving lazily after Bill. "If so, you may want to get Slippy and Peppy up here."
"That won't be necessary," Anilora confirmed, crossing her arms and indicating where Whitewater would best fit in the battle. "Intelligence reports tell us that Reivin Frost is incapacitated; I do not expect Star Wolf to engage us without the assassin."
At the movement of the captain's flagship the fleet split in half, encompassing the depot in a pair of semi-circles until they formed a ring about it. By this time Venomians were taking to the sky like infuriated bees, diving at their attackers with reckless abandon. Great masses of them lifted from the ground until the Katinans were largely overmatched in numbers.
But not in talent. Bill clearly led the way as he proceeded to shoot the unmanned craft as opposed to the spiraling enemy ships that filled the air, limiting the amount of fighters to only as many ships as were still intact. Many Venomian pilots milled angrily about below, shouting strings of curses at the male assassin as he sped by. Chuckling to himself Bill waved down at them, enjoying the successful mockery.
"Not bad, Grey," Fox congratulated, veering after his friend and similarly targeting stray empty craft. "This is almost boring."
"No kidding," Bill agreed, allowing himself to laugh. "It's the first time in weeks I've seen any action; I can't wait 'til we get to the big fights!"
"I'm with you on that," Falco conferred, turning a somersault and targeting his quarry easily. "I wish I Celestra; she gets all the fun missions."
Anilora easily heard this statement over the G-Diffuser system and nearly trembled with rage and the avian's lack of sympathy or understanding. Keeping control was a specialty of his, though, so the captain said only, "I sincerely hope you do not."
"Slippy, come back? I'm two compartments away from the train's head of operations. How's the fight?"
The youngest mercenary stifled a yawn as he heard Celestra's voice; the battle was under control and there was little more for him to do until the Macbethian assassin claimed the train. "Simple and uneventful. We've got everything well in hand."
Celestra was studying her next jump from the front of one car to the back of the next, clinging to the rail as the wind ravaged her ebony hair. Her newly-healed arm and wrist were constantly sending prickles of pain through her body from the strain of supporting her weight through jumps, and often she poked at the bandages in sheer frustration. "Excellent. I'll be well within the time limit, I think--Frost hasn't shown his face and very few Venomians were in the cars."
"Did you take care of the ones you came across?"
The assassin took a moment to wipe blood from her switchblades. "Of course I did." Slipping the weapons back into her belt Celestra leapt to the next compartment, hoisting herself up with a soft groan as her wrist seared again in protest. Noticing that the last car preceding the locomotive was without door, she mounted a ladder and began to ascend to the top. "Make sure Falco is ready; in another few minutes I'll be--"
Celestra froze as her boots hit the roof. There, standing between her and the main train operation, was Leon Powalski, arms crossed low over his waist, fingers gently brushing the handles of his matching knives.
"I didn't copy the rest of that, Celest, what?" Slippy pressed worriedly.
"Change in plans," Celestra murmured nervously, whipping out her switchblades and eyeing her crafty adversary coldly. "I may be just a tad bit late; I've got a slight problem to deal with first."
"What's going on? What problem?"
"Nevermind that. Just tell Falco to start on his way." With that the assassin clicked the communicator off; Leon nodded his approval.
"Marquette." The chameleon took a few steps forward, eyes never leaving hers. "I was thoroughly impressed with your beautiful display of acrobatics earlier."
"Powalski." Celestra likewise started toward him, boots clacking at an intimidating crescendo. "Much obliged. I suppose there's no point in asking you to step aside?"
A malicious smirk lit the mercenary's face, not unlike the one Reivin always wore. "No, I don't think that will be necessary. Obviously I can't let you just waltz up to the controls and do as you will with this train."
"Good," Celestra said honestly, readying herself for the fight. "I had expected nothing less from you."
Leon dropped into a defensive stance, cackling wickedly as he brought his blades to bear. "I'm delighted you think so, but come! Let us pursue this foolishness to its final stupidity."
Acid Rain swooped fearlessly into the fray, weaving flawlessly in and out of feverish battle until Slippy spotted Dark Horse and made a beeline for it. At the same time he shouted into the G-Diffuser, "We've got a problem. I think we underestimated Star Wolf; one of them is keeping Celestra from gaining control of the train."
Anilora sighed and bowed his head in exasperation. "They pursue at every turn . . . what are we to do? She has very little time left before the train passes the depot! If this mission fails . . . "
"It won't fail," Falco growled through gritted teeth, and with a look of determination plastered upon his face he fired the small cruisers' engines, tracing the tracks backward in the direction of the Forever Train. "Not if I can help it."
Many things weighed on Celestra's weary mind and heart as she engaged Leon Powalski in close combat. Time was of the essence now more than ever, and it seemed nigh impossible that she could defeat the able mercenary and claim the train in five minutes or less. She could feel the need of every Katinan resting dependently upon her slender shoulders as she and Leon danced nimbly about one another, fighting for balance on the roof of the swiftly-moving steam engine, but it wasn't just the next mission in her job of her next payoff. This time it was an emotional struggle, a fierce intertwining of the girl-child and the assassin as they fought against one another for control over the situation. This indecision served to confused Leon profoundly; at times when he was clearly in control she seemed petrified beyond all rational thought, much as a small child would, but at other times her eyes were deep as the abyss and devoid of all life or emotion. It was in these latter scenarios that the evil mercenary was unable to sublimate thrills of horror, for surely if she could harness the assassin she would have little difficulty defeating him.
'But she is still not whole' Leon reminded himself with a sadistic smile, coming at her with a combination of low thrusts and high slashes. 'Divided and indecisive. Fool! The child can only spell your doom, for she never desired war.'
All of these thoughts pressed in around Celestra as she futilely struck at her enemy, until at last she tripped and sprawled upon her back, head dangling dangerously over the side of the compartment. Leon knelt over her, taking great pleasure in the immeasurable fear in her eyes. "You're never going to save this planet, Celestra," he assured her maliciously, moving one knife in for the kill. "Just like you couldn't save your parents."
Quite suddenly the emotional tension caused Celestra's mind to split in two; time seemed to stop, and then something strange happened. Thoughts and ideals flowed from two separate people within her subconscious; a haze cleared, and vague, shadowy forms of the child Celestra and the assassin Celestra stood resolutely facing each other. The former was quite short, no taller than four feet and adorably a bit chubby; the latter was all of five foot seven with womanly curves and a slim stature. Eyes of an identical hue stared through one another, judging and appraising.
"Leave me," the assassin ordered, finality in her tone, and she turned her back with a deep frown.
"I just want it to be over!" the child's voice rang out, sorrow apparent within it. "This is my home. We didn't do anything to them; just make it stop!"
The assassin chuckled wryly at this and turned back, gazing at the little girl whining in front of her with obvious amusement. "You just don't understand, little one," she explained, crossing her arms. "It will never stop; not until either good or evil wins out. That's how the wretched world works."
"But why? Why did it have to be me? Why this planet? Why my parents?" The child sat down heavily, sobbing; great pearly tears streamed down her plump cheeks until at last the assassin felt a slight pang of sympathy at the sight.
"Because it's fate," she said simply, stepping over to the child's side. "Someone had to do it. Maybe it's not what you wanted, but just look! Revenge is drawing nearer. Very soon you will have the opportunity to pay back those responsible for ruining your life."
The child looked up, anger reflecting through her watery eyes, and asked, "My life? Or yours?"
The assassin paused, taken aback. Whose life was she talking about? Chuckling again she sat down beside her smaller counterpart, sighing. "It's difficult for me to accept the fact that our lives are one."
"I just want to go home," the child admitted, bottom lip quivering slightly. "Please just let me go home."
She found herself smiling sincerely, holding out her arms and letting the child sob upon her bosom, stroking the sad little girl's hair and cooing reassuringly until she slowly quietly. They sat together for awhile, clinging dependently to one another, until they each found some measure of peace.
"Soon," the assassin promised. "I'll take you home soon."
The child looked up at her admiringly, tears still shimmering in her youthful eyes, but all despair had flown from her face now. "You promise?"
"I promise. But I have to take care of this first." The assassin's visage hardened, remembering her ultimate task. "It has to be done."
"I understand." Then she rose, childlike grace and vitality warming the assassin's heart, and melted back into the hazy fog.
Then it was over; Celestra's eyes flew open just in time to deflect one of Leon's wicked blades. Surprise came across his face when the weapon flew from his fingertips at the force of the strike, and with a feral growl the assassin kicked out, catching her adversary in the stomach and launching him across the cab. For several tense seconds Leon scrabbled about the edge in a desperate attempt to find a handhold; unsuccessful, he carreened over the other side, lost far behind the swiftly moving steam engine.
Celestra struggled to her feet and sprinted to the other side, making for the locomotive in a mad rush. The real train conductor was snoring loudly when she dropped noiselessly to the floor from a small overhead hatch. Unholstering one plasma laser and typing wildly at the helm keyboard she discerned that only thirty seconds remained before she passed the last fork in the tracks that would lead to the supply depot. Typing one-handedly was rather difficult, but she managed to plot the new course in the end and scrabbled back up through the roof opening, sliding to the edge flat on her stomach and taking aim at the swiftly approaching track-change lever stuck crudely in the ground just off to the left side.
Falco located the train from high above and veered toward it, still piloting the small Katinan cruiser. "This is it, Celest--you can't miss!"
Captain Anilora was watching it all on his G-Diffuser, high above the battle for the supply depot, his hands clenched on the chair in front of him; Bill and the mercenaries looked on with the breath caught in their lungs. Squinting one eyes closed the assassin steadied her hand and fired. A brilliant flash of blue-green ensued, slicing through the air at incredible speed, and struck the lever head-on, switching the track in another direction at the fork. Only a few moments later the steam engine followed the curve around on its new trajectory, and moving quickly Celestra leapt down the hatch again.
Now the conductor was on his feet, shaken awake on the abnormal turn and attempting frantically to put on the brakes. Laser still in hand Celestra fired once, burning a neat little hole through the back of his head. When he had fallen dead in a heap she fired at the helm madly; sparks flew from the controls, and when she was certain they were completely disabled she again made her way to the outside roof.
The train was speeding non-stop toward the supply depot, which was swarming with Venomians and Katinans. As she approached Celestra could faintly pick out Bill's and Fox's Arwings, and far to one side Captain Anilora's flagship. Wind whipped through her hair and forced her to squint her eyes, but she did not take her stare from the sight for a moment.
Dark Horse matched the Forever Train's speed; Falco worked hard to maneuver it as close to her as possible. The side hatch opened, and at the last moment Celestra leaped for it, crashing to the floor inside. Scrambling up she raced to the cockpit, plopping down in the seat beside Falco as the scene of her greatest achievement unfolded.
As the train hammered at full-speed along its inevitable crash-course the Katinans fell back, running away from the depot. The Venomians on the ground continued their jeering, thinking they had won the day, until they realized that their beloved train was not slowing down. The steam engine barreled straight on through its hangar and into solid adamantite wall, bowling it over in its chaotic run. A massive explosion rocked Macbeth, and in the air all the Katinans gasped in disbelief; even as they looked on great curtains of smoke poured out the dome-shaped building, obscuring the view for several seconds until a second explosion ensued, spouting great chunks of metal into the air. Jubilant cries shook the skies as the destruction became complete, and with a great exhale of fire and a final creak of defeat the supply depot collapsed into the dirt.
Falco punched the air with one fist and cried out in joy for the victory; Celestra turned her head away and allowed a single happy tear to fall from her eyes.
Bill kept poking Falco hard in the arm and demanding to know where they were going, but every time he did so Captain Anilora would turn around and silence the pair of them with a stern glare and a finger pressed firmly to his lips. Fox, Slippy, and Peppy trailed behind speechlessly, clueless as to what was transpiring. Celestra led them across the barren, rocky terrain, something indescribable burning deep in her eyes.
"It's not much further, I promise," she assured them over her shoulder. "And thanks a lot for trusting me enough to follow."
The seven of them had been trekking along the dull Macbeth expanse for nearly an hour now, glancing about curiously for any signs of interest and finding none. Falco desperately wanted to know their destination, and why they were going there at all, and, most importantly to him, why they were walking instead of flying. Captain Anilora alone among them seemed to have at least a slight inkling as to this little journey, for whenever someone asked he said only, "Be patient."
Celestra led them over a low hill and disappeared beyond it; as Falco crested it himself he noticed that she and Anilora had halted and were standing side-by-side facing the hollowed, charred remains of two small buildings, brittle and frail-looking as they sat there, ashen and barely standing. Gradually the others joined them, gazing down at the forlorn setting, until at last Bill asked, "What is this place?"
Celestra lowered her head, momentarily unable to speak, so Anilora heaved a pained sigh and murmured, "Celestra's home."
The male assassin and the Star Fox mercenaries uttered a collective intake of breath, shocked. As Falco further studied the area his keen avian eyes began to piece things together, until at last he could recognize the raised, dried-out wood that resembled a small front porch lining the larger ruin. Stepping around the many piles of rubble he passed Celestra and Anilora, eyes wide and roving, willing his mind to pick out the details. Beyond the wreckage of the house he vaguely made out the roll-up garage that may have, at one time, served as a hangar for some sort of spacecraft. Falco glanced back to the house, pulling forth images of broken windows, collapsed outer walls, and even a caved-in stump of a chimney.
"My God," he whispered, at last seeing the larger picture.
Celestra strode past him, boots silent as they stepped over loose debris. "I haven't been back here for twelve years; not since it happened." Carefully she walked over to the hangar, placing a hand upon it and looking back at them, face emotionless. "When my father returned home from the first war, the Cornerian army had no precedence over the further use of his Arwing, as it was Fortunan-made. He brought it back with him and devoted great deals of his time to its reconstruction; when I was old enough to understand he started teaching me everything he knew. The ship, of course, was The Legacy, which you all once knew as Rage of Macbeth.
"The night of the attack I just happened to be in the hangar when the first shots were fired, and my father told me to fly for Corneria. Don't ask me how I did it, because it was no act of heroism. Somehow I did escape Macbeth as the Venomians devestated it; somehow I lived to tell of it, to pass Andross's rise on to people who could better handle it."
Celestra rummaged about in her flight vest then, producing three small adamantite crosses from a stray pocket. Her comrades followed her back to the front of the demolished house, where she knelt down before the steps and stuck them firmly into the earth. Then she stepped back, accepting Bill's hand and Anilora's arm, and the group stared at the silver shining crosses for a long while in silence.
"So remember with me," she continued at last, finding strength in her friends' presence. "Remember this planet when we depart down the road of shadows into the realm of Andross. For we are not only fighting for the lives of everyone in Lylat--we are fighting to avenge those who were so wrongfully killed all those years ago.
"And those people will have justice."
One-by-one they turned back the way they had come, preparing for the long trek back to the Katinan fleet as they reflected sadly upon Celestra's history. The assassin herself did not turn to follow at first, staring intently now at the shadowy, childlike version of the seven-year-old staring expectantly up at her, eyes shining. They shared a deep gaze in which all other thoughts and feelings were conveyed without words. Then the child spoke at last.
"Can I go home now?"
The assassin knelt down in the ash and reached out, expecting her hand to pass right through the apparition but not faltering when it settled upon a tangible shoulder. "Yes. You can go home now."
A genuine smile lit the child's face and she made for the house, spinning great circles gleefully, arms thrown out, lavender running shoes kicking up little clouds of dust about her dancing feet. Waving to her older counterpart she sprinted up the porch steps and melted through the walls like a ghost.
Celestra Marquette felt as though a large part of her soul had been ripped away, and for this she allowed tears to slip unchecked from her eyes. She could live now, she knew, without any further internal conflicts; her past was at rest, and all now could lay quiet and in peace with the spirited child to protect it. As she turned at last to follow her comrades she saw Anilora standing at the crest of the hill, waiting for her.
"I was just wondering," he asked softly as she joined him. "Why are there three crosses? Two Marquettes died, yes, but the third lives still."
As one the pair glanced back, taking in the wreckage of the house and its three glittering crosses. Celestra let one last tear trail away down her cheek, then she said, "Yes, to the typical outsider, you are correct. But the child who escaped has been dead these twelve long years; we mourn her loss today, for now she is at peace." Together they began on their way again. "The child is gone now; the assassin may again walk away."
In the end the entire Katinan fleet wasn't enough to keep Celestra Marquette in bed longer than another day; forty-eight hours after her return from Titania the assassin was up and about again, but not without minor changes. Her left ankle was taped up, and although she carried herself stoically her more perceptive friends could detect the slightest of limps in her stride; her right arm was wrapped from the palm of her hand to the crook of her elbow, and her lower back and abdomen were also taped to further support the newly-healed vertebrae. No one was surprised when Bill cracked open her recovered lockbox and presented her with a utility belt identical to her previous one; Celestra could be seen wearing it everywhere, as though expecting to go into battle at any time.
She would grow noticeably downcast whenever anyone mentioned space flight, though, for now her Arwing and her father's legacy were no more than spare parts upon the surface of Lylat's second planet. Captain Anilora whispered once to Bill that he was well on his way to rectifying this.
The next day Bill came to Celestra early in the morning with news that a small envoy had docked upon Whitewater and were asking to see her. The group was comprised of a select few of Fortuna's most skilled technicians, sent from the Fortunan-Aquan alliance moving from Zoness and toward the outermost Macbethian moon, Sakyo. Arriving in a few large adjoining hangars the female assassin was confronted with an exceptionally pleasant surprise--Anilora chatting cordially with a trio of snow-white arctic foxes and standing in front of the newest make of Fortunan Arwing--the X-Eternity Libra.
While the typical Cornerian Arwing tended to be W-shaped for aerodynamic performance and Katinan Arwings centered around a triangle model built solely for impeccable speed, the reclusive Fortunans constructed their single-man spacecraft in a narrow V-shape with a focus on versatility and unmatchable agility. The X-Eternity Libra was a mere two-thirds the size of her father's old Arwing, but what it lacked in size and power it made up threefold in speed and maneuverability. It was half moonlit-silver and half alluring dark turquoise, a trio of lightspeed engines equipped to its rear and a pair of adamantite lasers mounted to each back corner of the V-shaped body. The prototype of this particular craft had been released for testing only three weeks previous, and in a short period indeed it proved more agile than all of its predecessors and rivaled the Katinan makes for sheer speed. The craft currently gleaming magnificently before Celestra was, at the moment, the only one of its kids in the whole of the Lylat System.
Anilora paused his end of the conversation and idly glanced her way; an inescapably handsome grin came across his face as comprehension dawned in her eyes. Bill laughed and pushed her lightly in the captain's direction.
"Allow me to introduce Erik and William Nioxin," Anilora began as she reached them, indicating each in turn. "And Sensenic Morray, the mastermind behind the X-Eternity Libra's success. They were kind enough to take a short side-trip on their way to Sakyo and deliver this Arwing to you."
Celestra took a tentative step forward, eyes wide as she perused the craft in wonder, and she murmured, "You didn't . . . "
"When Captain Anilora contacted us two days ago and announced that Rage of Macbeth had been downed on Titania, we could not just accept the news with deaf ears," Morray explained sympathetically, a beautifully melodious ring to his Fortunan dialect. "We obliged by offering the Libra to him; he insisted that it was far too great a gift, but we give it in gratitude for your continued efforts to keep our galaxy safe."
The assassin jovially shook hands with the Nioxins and Morray, speechless with pleasure, then wrapped her arms tightly about Anilora's waist and buried her smiling face in his chest. Grinning still, the captain returned the embrace.
"She's yours," he informed her, leading her around the flawless spacecraft with an arm draped over her shoulders. "Every aspect of its performance has been tested numerous times by trained professionals; I have been assured that it flies and fights brilliantly."
Celestra ran one slender hand admiringly along the ship's left flank, eyes glittering with ecstacy. "I can't believe you did this, Gilraen. It's the most amazing thing I've ever seen!"
"All the more amazing it will be with Celestra Marquette at its helm," Anilora answered sincerely, smile turning slightly to the embarrassed side.
Celestra kissed him on the cheek.
A council was called in late afternoon on the next day, bringing Celestra, Anilora, Bill, the four mercenaries, and the highest-ranking Katinan officers before General Pepper's face on a G-Diffuser screen. After the initial disbelief the Libra had brought with its arrival Celestra's overall demeanor had taken a drastic turn for depression and reserved fear--Macbeth now loomed, a specter of destiny, out every window. When they had all taken their seats (Anilora at the head of the table again), Pepper set to pacing back and forth across their line of sight.
"We hang on the edge of tomorrow," Pepper began, never ceasing his fervent pacing as he addressed them. "A tomorrow that surely holds the siege of places under strong control of our common enemy. This day I have learned of movement of a vast force of Venomians; nearly one thousand deploy for Area 6 Defense Station, infinitely the more difficult of two roads leading to Lylat's first planet."
Anilora leaned back in his chair, a grave expression on his face; Celestra heaved a great, pained sigh, and Bill covered his face with one hand.
"What exactly does that mean?" Fox pressed lightly. "Once we clear Macbeth, Zoness, and Titania, I'm a foreigner."
The captain gave a slight nod to a cyborg hovering quietly in one corner; at the signal it glided slowly to another viewing screen and activated an extensive map of Area 6. Bill rose, clearing his throat as he did. "Y'see, other than the surface of Venom itself, Area 6 is the busiest enemy site in a handful of such places. Andross sends the majority of his frontal squads our way via a route through Area 6 and Sector Z Combat Zone; all of the imported goods and weapons Macbeth sends to Venom must first pass through an elaborate security systems screening, and many other things happen in this way.
"For Venom to be successfully conquered Area 6 must be dismantled before we press in around Andross. If it and the satellite within Bolse Defense Outpost are taken out, we greatly improve our chances of entrapping Andross in his own domain.
"However, we have a problem with numbers. Even without this reinforcement group the Station is very well-protected and likely prepared for any attack from our end. We now estimate fifteen hundred defenders, and the number may very well intensify before we get there."
"Clearly a threat best left for Corneria and the Fortunan-Aquan alliance," Pepper told them dismissively. "Let's move on."
Celestra had been pacing nervously since the meeting had begun; she passed behind Anilora's chair and bumped it slightly on her way. The captain recognized the brief interaction to be a cue they had briefly rehearsed earlier in the day, and now it was time to act out the plot they had created together. "Begging your pardon," Anilora interrupted smoothly. "I disagree."
Pepper ceased his pacing and cast a wrathful, impatient glare upon the Katinan captain; the four mercenaries, seated at various places about the room, cast him glances that quite plainly asked what he was thinking. Bill was leaning against the wall, half in shadow beside a large rectangular window, so none of the others noticed the smirk upon his face. Anilora ignored the mercenaries' gawking faces, content merely with a calm expression that cleverly masked the intricate plans he, Celestra, and Bill had laid out. Seeing no further comment coming from the human Pepper snapped, "Explain yourself."
"Certainly." Anilora nodded for Bill to sit and he stood himself, studying the leather backing of his chair for several moments before continuing. "Right now you are making several decisions that will, in the end, play right into Andross's hands."
The general's face reddened vividly and everyone at the table leaned back as one, awaiting the impending explosion. Anilora's heartbeat quickened, knowing he was crossing a fine line with his only real superior, but dismissed any further apprehensions in the face of punishment to follow the plan.
"You will forgive me for drawing my own conclusions, but you have worked out the finer points of the split in forces?"
Falco and Fox exchanged a questioning glance at this; Peppy piped right up and asked, "'Split in forces'?"
"Of course," Anilora agreed cordially. "Two paths lead to Venom's surface; we hardly have time to shuffle from one place to the other and hope to retain the element of surprise."
"Thus a sundering is soon to be in order," Pepper explained, still surveying Anilora with intense disapproval. "The alliance goes with me; an envoy from Zoness joins the Katinans."
Anilora tapped one finger against his chin, sifting carefully through his interweaving plots. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Celestra trying to get his attention; his eyes flashed to her, and as quickly and inconspicuously as possible she blew a puff of hot breath upon the window and wrote 'Frost' in the steam. "Look to the future with me, General, and you will see one small factor that will play a larger role and become lethal to you if you insist on passing through Area 6."
Pepper was silent, brooding; Celestra and Bill took the opportunity to wink at one another for their brilliance before turning and gazing in separate directions. Anilora cleared his throat and gently prompted, "Reivin Frost."
Pepper blinked. "The assassin? I know all about him."
"Do you? Then you already knew that where the fighting is greatest is where he will be?" Celestra mocked, crossing her arms and leaning against the southern wall. "The mercenaries can't handle him in the air, and if given a fraction of an opportunity he will obliterate your entire fleet by himself. I know that sounds crazy, but--"
"Now see here!" Pepper shrieked, eyes on fire with rage; the mercenaries and the other Katinan officers cowered in fear, and although this had been forseen to the three conspirators Celestra, Bill, and Anilora also grew slightly anxious. "Marquette, I've given you a free reign, always. You may be under my employment but I've often allowed you to make your own decisions. But no more! I refuse to allow you to cause mass chaos within the ranks when we are so near to accomplishing our goal! You will either submit to my wishes and fight beside me for the gain of all Lylat, or our contract has reached its end. What say you?!"
Celestra glanced out the window, heart racing. This was the rehearsed bit that would be the most difficult to execute, simply because it was something she didn't wish to do at all. The next stage had been entirely Bill's idea, and after hearing it Anilora had backed him enthusiastically, but the very idea set off warning bells in the assassin's mind. Anilora watched her internal struggle with a sinking sensation deep in his stomach, certain that she would back out in the crucial stage and leave him and Bill hanging; Bill watched carefully, masking the doubts in his eyes. Then Celestra looked up, resignation sparkling within the depths of her icy-blue eyes, and said, "Do what you will."
Pepper sighed, shaking his head at her in dismay. "You always had too much individualism for this operation, Marquette; it constantly placed us in jeopardy. I regret having to do this, but I will not risk mutiny in this stage of the war--I'm letting you go."
'Just as planned,' Anilora thought, mentally breathing a sigh of relief as he allowed a feigned look of shock to cross his face.
'Took the bait, stupid fool!' Bill thought excitedly, then he erupted in a wonderful act of protest. "Ya . . . ya can't! Think about what you're sayin'!"
Celestra lifted one slender hand to quiet her two conspirators and the mercenaries, who truly were acting in hostility at Pepper's decision. "We each have made our choices. And may I say that choices mold the chooser in this war."
"We're moving on," the general growled maliciously, and the room reluctantly returned to a tense state of obedience. "Gilraen, you seem to have some particular design laid out for the split; in God's name, speak it."
"With pleasure. I have little doubt that Reivin Frost, ever unpredictable, will serve as Andross's wild-card at the end of all things, as Celestra has already speculated for you; similarly I feel that the moves he makes will remain one step ahead of yours." The Cornerian general swelled to the ominous point of bursting, so Anilora hurried on. "Do not see it as a doubting mind against your decisions or your abilities--see it instead as an intuitive mind striving to see all ends of the situation. There are few in this galaxy that could ever hope to match Frost in any manner; leave Area 6 to those who have combated against him in the past."
Pepper seemed to calm a bit at Anilora's continued impassive demeanor, going so far as to ask, "Of whom do you speak?"
"Why, myself and Bill, of course."
Falco couldn't stand the injustice of Pepper's decisions any longer; inconspicuously he leaned over to Fox and murmured, "Why did we all just sit here and twiddle our thumbs while Celestra got canned?"
"Anilora's got a plan," the vulpine dared to whisper back, eyes never leaving the exchange. "It's obvious in the way he talks; he's got Celestra and Bill in on it too, they're both more reserved than they should be at a time like this. Keep quiet and see how it plays out."
"So you're asking me," Pepper mused slowly, mulling over the details in his mind, "to pursue your original course into Bolse while you take up mind in Area 6?"
Violet eyes still reflecting nothing incriminating to his situation, the Katinan captain merely nodded. Celestra and Bill tried not to look too impressed with how well their accomplice was handling the plan.
"Preposterous," Pepper scoffed, waving the notion aside and setting to his pacing again. "You will be so sorely outnumbered that you will hand them an important victory that we cannot afford."
"It is tact and not strength that will decide the victor of this battle, Aronius," Anilora corrected quietly.
A disbelieving hush hovered about the room; no one addressed the general of the Cornerian army in such an impassive and informal manner! Pepper seemed on the verge of rudely reminding the captain of this when Anilora finished, "Trust my judgment, General, as you once did. We are still allies, are we not? Do not forget what that means."
Pepper blinked stupidly a few times, mouth gaping slightly as he and Anilora engaged in a bit of a staring contest. After many long, tense moments the former looked away in shame. "Indeed; I have not forgotten. I . . . will go to Bolse."
"Excellent," Anilora replied cheerfully, clapping his hands together once in compliance and thus lifting the mystified stupor from the room. "Whether we win or lose at Macbeth today I will make for the pass within Sector Z Combat Zone, afterward to strike at the Station. Celestra, I will leave you to deal with Frost when the time comes--"
"Excuse me?" Pepper asked skeptically. "I have made it quite clear that Celestra is no longer involved in these affairs."
Now the brilliant eyes flashed, unable to contain their owner's excitement; across the room Celestra and Bill visually shared an ecstatic grin of victory, and suddenly all became clear to Pepper and he felt outmatched indeed. "That isn't entirely accurate, I'm afraid," Anilora began again. "You assured us all that she is no longer under your orders or accepting pay, but said nothing concerning her further involvement."
"I assume you're making a point?" the general quipped in annoyance.
"Of course." Anilora inhaled sharply and turned his gaze upon Celestra, who surveyed him intently and nodded her approval. "You see, I can think of no better person to handle the assassin than another assassin--"
"I forbid it," Pepper interrupted in vain.
"--namely, this assassin--"
"Out of the question!"
"--who will now answer to my orders and do specifically as I bid," Anilora finished, undaunted. "Celestra Marquette is a Katinan assassin now, and you can rest assured that I will not relinquish her uses or, more importantly, her support, over such trivial matters as you have."
"There's the fine print we forgot to mention, General," Celestra smiled sweetly.
Pepper puffed up indignantly like a bullfrog. "I will--"
"Make your threats, General," Anilora warned, and everyone in the room was staring at him now as though he had committed some blasphemous act (save Celestra and Bill). "There is nothing you can say that I do not have a counter for."
Falco looked from the resolute Katinan captain, to the smug Macbethian assassin, and finally to the amused Katinan assassin and sighed. Never before had he seen a trio of people with such limitless faith in each other.
"More fine print, Gen'ral," Bill quipped, now smiling broadly.
"I suppose I'll just leave you in charge of the siege of Macbeth, then, since you seem so keen on depriving me of power!" Pepper shrieked, and the screen abruptly blackened. Celestra and Bill burst into fits of hysteric laughter, sharing an enthusiastic high-five; Anilora slumped back in his chair, exhausted from the verbal battle he had only just won, and the mercenaries all stared at one another, perfectly speechless.
"Nicely played, Gilraen," Celestra congratulated with a chuckle, and with that she left the room.
"Listen to me now, all of you," Anilora bade the remaining group, a measure of apprehension returning to his voice. "Pepper's attitude, though not unexpected and certainly not without provocation, changes everything. We must work hard now to make Macbeth ours, a task that largely falls upon Celestra. Bill?"
The male assassin abandoned his grin and snapped to attention. "Yes, Cap'n?"
"Give the order for the fleet to prepare for battle. Let it be known that we depart to strike Macbeth within three hours."
"Gotcha," Bill affirmed, and he swept out after Celestra. Anilora turned to Slippy and Peppy.
"I'm counting on the pair of you to see that every Arwing we possess is in top working order. I beg you, do not fail me."
Slippy rose, shooting the captain a thumbs-up; Peppy saluted, and the pair departed for the technicians bay with the head of that department, Jered Nasmun. Anilora walked around the table once, eyeing his four primary lieutenants, before his gaze settled upon Fox. "I hesitate to give you orders, as you are still in Pepper's control and not mine . . . "
Fox waved a hand in dismissal and got to his feet. "We as a group trust your judgment; order away."
"I appreciate your support." The captain pointed to his lieutenants, summoning them to his side, and beckoned for Fox to join him. "I need the five of you to go now and lay out your offensive plans for the approaching battle. The Venomians will defend it well, but we aren't worried about taking it from them."
"Why not?" the mercenary leader asked.
"Because the success of this mission lies with Celestra and Falco." Anilora bade them to exit and showed a shadow of a smile when the avian flinched and looked up with surprise. "You see, taking Andross's most important means of weapon and good supply is far too risky, chiefly because he will use any means necessary to recover it. So, quite the opposite of making it ours, we will destroy it."
Falco cocked an eyebrow curiously at the captain, then jumped again when he realized that he and Anilora were alone in the room, left to discuss what would undoubtedly be the most emotional mission they had ever endured with Celestra by far. "But . . . how much could we benefit by usurping it? That's gotta be the site of his biggest weapons stockpile!"
"Yes, I'm aware, and that's primarily why we're disposing of it. What do you think would become of us if we were attacking Venom and reinforcements arrived, only to destroy us with weapons that were, at one time, in our possession? I refused to let the general head this advance simply because he was blind to the possibility. It could destroy us. He will come around if we succeed today, and these feuds will come to an end.
"But on to your task, the greatest and most dangerous of them all. I have a small two-man cruiser in the docking bay set aside specifically for your usage; Falco, I would like for you to pilot it when we have the coordinates set on the Forever Train."
Falco stared. "Me? Why?"
Anilora offered a reassuring smile. "I trust in your flying skills. Celestra's task is something along the lines of suicidal, and she will need for you to be close by when it is near completion . . . "
The Katinan cruiser Dark Horse veered away from its large fleet, spiraling down through the atmosphere in the direction of Macbeth's most populated city, Damiya. Falco had no difficulties whatsoever maneuvering the craft; Katinan ships had always been more to his liking.
Celestra stared back at the hovering mass of ships, wishing that Anilora and Bill were not so far away at this moment. No one could help her with the task today; although she harbored no doubts that the men behind her would easily take the supply depot, the success of the mission depended upon the success of the female assassin.
Damiya, the City of Silver Tracks, was by far the most important city to the conductors of the Forever Train. No fewer than twelve sets of train tracks passed through the town in complex places, bound for other, smaller towns across Macbeth. Celestra vividly remembered engaging her childhood friends in their daily games on the outskirts of Damiya after she failed each day to touch the steam engine; she could recall the scent of the exhaust, the sound it made squealing down the tracks as it made for the supply depot--
Celestra looked away from the window, eyes settling instead upon the avian expertly handling the controls.
"You okay?" he asked her half-mindedly, checking the progress of the train as it chugged speedily along in their direction.
The assassin made to say 'yes', but all that came out was a little pained sigh.
Falco tried not to react to the feeling of helplessness he felt at the frightened sound. "Better get your belt; it'll be under us pretty soon."
Setting the cruiser on autopilot Falco rose, fumbling with an emergency bungee cord as Celestra strapped the utility belt about her waist. She was donning a pair of black leather gloves with the fabric covering the fingers cut out when Falco began equipping a bungee vest to the assassin's upper torso, latching the cord to a metal ring sewn to the back of the vest and ensuring its stability. Celestra nervously tightened her ponytail; Falco wished he could set her mind at ease.
"Ready?"
Celestra nodded, straightening the fastenings. "Don't follow too close; they'll get suspicious."
Falco gripped her shoulders tightly, attempting in vain to massage out the tense knots of muscle he came in contact with. "Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
"Yeah; yeah, I'm sure."
Off in the distance a shrill whistle rent the air, the symbol of doom for a broken and tormented seven-year-old, the sleepless nights and endless days of the assassin. Falco skittered back to the helm, ready to follow, assessing the train's speed and locking it into the ships' database. Celestra tugged again at the bungee cord, then latched it to the handle of the exit hatch. The cruiser lurched as it took off in pursuit and the assassin threw the hatch open, bracing against the whipping wind and glancing down.
All color left her face. There, chugging along beneath the underside of Dark Horse, was Macbeth's heart and soul, the Forever Train.
'Hey, Celest! Did you touch it?'
Celestra's eyes widened, glimpsing the past, watching a completely different person rising from the ground to join her friends.
'Nah. But one of these days . . . I'll ride the Forever Train home!'
"That day is today," Celestra promised, and she spread her arms wide and jumped.
For a few frozen seconds she descended toward the gleaming silver steam engine, and a million ways in which this stage of the mission could go wrong flashed through her head. But then her cold, merciless eyes narrowed and she stretched her arms out toward the titanium guardrail at the rear of the caboose. Her hands slapped against the bar, retaining wonderful girp thanks to the leather gloves; her newly-healed wrist seared with pain as her arms absorbed her weight; the bandages strained, but with a grunt of effort Celestra hauled herself over the rail to stand upright. Above in the cockpit of the small Katinan cruiser Falco flashed an ecstatic smile and a thumbs-up; the assassin wrestled out of the bungee vest and unsheathed her switchblades.
"I finally touched you," Celestra muttered to the train, and unlocking the door with Anilora's magical key she slipped soundlessly inside. The door eased shut behind the assassin, and Falco veered away with a leaden heart to join his mercenary leader and the Katinan fleet.
"Rash, Marquette; too rash."
Leon Powalski snickered to himself as he watched the female assassin bungee jump from the cruiser to the caboose; he was reclining comfortably in the conductors' chair at the controls in the locomotive, treated to the action by a G-Diffuser screen on the wall across from him. The real conductor, a burly old baboon with black, mottled fur and unnaturally bulbous lips, continued to mutter to himself his supreme displeasure of having a vicious mercenary in charge of his train. The chameleon cackled his amusement when Celestra disappeared into the rear car, then clicked a button, bringing up an irritable-looking Reivin Frost.
"Despite all of my efforts she is aboard the train," Leon informed the raven calmly. "She will work her way up until she has assumed control."
"Regrettably I do not have my Lord's permission to pay Celestra a visit," Reivin snapped, eyes clearly reflecting his vindictive mood. "Therefore I must leave this important task up to you, Leon--kill her if you must, but she must not get the train."
Leon coiled his tail lazily and slouched lower in his chair. "Consider it done. How long before the Cornerians close in about the weapons outpost?"
"They have already deployed, but they lack their full estimated numbers," the male assassin responded, seemingly confused by the situation. "I don't know precisely what Aronius Pepper is playing at, but Andross expects the general to gain control of the supply depot." Now Reivin grinned, a malevolent glint in his cold green eyes. "It doesn't matter if we lose it; we will only reclaim it and attack them from behind later. Frost, out."
Stretching his arms the chameleon rose, rubbing out a crick in his neck as he turned to the conductor. "Tell me, good sir: is that escape hatch--" Here he pointed nonchalantly at the ceiling, "--accessible from the car behind this one?"
"Of course it is," the old baboon snapped, crossing his arms defensively.
"Well, then I ought to get on the roof. If there is a way to get here from there, Celestra Marquette will find it." Leon whisked out two wicked knives, then paused and glanced back. "The game has changed this day, for we have taken the homeland of the greatest rival assassin in all of Lylat. Much unexpected becomes reality when the game becomes personal."
"They've got the train heading toward the next city," Celestra reported into the wristwatch holographic communicator she always wore. "I need an estimate of how much time I've got to get in control before we pass the supply depot."
Slippy, whose Arwing was tailing Bill's as the Katinan fleet penetrated Macbethian airspace, typed a few commands upon his computer console. "In twelve minutes or so the train will have passed the final set of tracks that lead to it from where you are; you're really going to have to move."
Slinking soundlessly to the other end of her current car Celestra inserted the key and snuck into the next car, peering all about with her switchblades at the ready. "I can make it by then. What's your position?"
"Anilora's flagship is leading the other cruisers into an attack formation; as soon as Falco gets here he and Fox and Bill will lead the first squadron in head-on. Peppy and I are waiting with reinforcements and expect to see a pretty rowdy fight."
"Pity I'll be missing it." The assassin's keen ears sensed footsteps moving toward her car, and in one fluid motion she had clicked off the communication device and flung herself effortlessly beneath one of the benches in the rear of the car. Ahead the compartment slid open; a pair of grey boots started cautiously down the aisle. Apparently the train staff was aware of her presence.
Carefully Celestra fumbled with one of the butterfly knives in her combat boot, sliding one switchblade delicately between her teeth; with an almost casual flick of her wrist she sent the knife spinning through the air. It whizzed across the aisle and landed with a dull 'thunk' in the arm of one seat. Curious and clearly on-edge, the grey boots turned toward the disturbance.
Rising, enchanted boots responding to her urge for silence, the assassin clamped one hand down over the soldiers' mouth and deftly slit his throat with a single swift movement. The man died instantly, painlessly; wasting no time, she dropped him into the seat and wiped her red-stained blade on his shirt.
Then she cursed herself. She had wasted twenty seconds on a useless kill.
Dark Horse drifted into the head position of the first squadron, leading Fox, Bill, and two hundred and fifty Katinan Arwings down toward the supply depot. A massive dome-shaped building nearly as big as the Venomian mothership that had attacked Nexxus months previous, the site for mass weapon and good production was truly an impressive and intimidating structure. As the frontal attack force descende a tirade of air raid sirens shrieked in warning; almost immediately Venomians poured out of doors and windows, stumbling to their spacecraft.
"Come in, Cap'n!" Bill announced, veering right to busy himself with disposing of the enemy spacecraft. "We have been engaged. Request permission to return fire, copy?"
Captain Anilora was at the side of the pilot of Whitewater, watching his fleet progress in small chunks toward their target. "Permission granted, but proceed with caution. We want them to think we attack with the intention of taking it from them."
"Copy that." The male assassin swept low toward the ground, devestating the stray enemy ships. "Everybody got that? Attack, but not at full force."
"Should we be expecting our friends the mercenaries anytime soon?" Fox asked, diving lazily after Bill. "If so, you may want to get Slippy and Peppy up here."
"That won't be necessary," Anilora confirmed, crossing her arms and indicating where Whitewater would best fit in the battle. "Intelligence reports tell us that Reivin Frost is incapacitated; I do not expect Star Wolf to engage us without the assassin."
At the movement of the captain's flagship the fleet split in half, encompassing the depot in a pair of semi-circles until they formed a ring about it. By this time Venomians were taking to the sky like infuriated bees, diving at their attackers with reckless abandon. Great masses of them lifted from the ground until the Katinans were largely overmatched in numbers.
But not in talent. Bill clearly led the way as he proceeded to shoot the unmanned craft as opposed to the spiraling enemy ships that filled the air, limiting the amount of fighters to only as many ships as were still intact. Many Venomian pilots milled angrily about below, shouting strings of curses at the male assassin as he sped by. Chuckling to himself Bill waved down at them, enjoying the successful mockery.
"Not bad, Grey," Fox congratulated, veering after his friend and similarly targeting stray empty craft. "This is almost boring."
"No kidding," Bill agreed, allowing himself to laugh. "It's the first time in weeks I've seen any action; I can't wait 'til we get to the big fights!"
"I'm with you on that," Falco conferred, turning a somersault and targeting his quarry easily. "I wish I Celestra; she gets all the fun missions."
Anilora easily heard this statement over the G-Diffuser system and nearly trembled with rage and the avian's lack of sympathy or understanding. Keeping control was a specialty of his, though, so the captain said only, "I sincerely hope you do not."
"Slippy, come back? I'm two compartments away from the train's head of operations. How's the fight?"
The youngest mercenary stifled a yawn as he heard Celestra's voice; the battle was under control and there was little more for him to do until the Macbethian assassin claimed the train. "Simple and uneventful. We've got everything well in hand."
Celestra was studying her next jump from the front of one car to the back of the next, clinging to the rail as the wind ravaged her ebony hair. Her newly-healed arm and wrist were constantly sending prickles of pain through her body from the strain of supporting her weight through jumps, and often she poked at the bandages in sheer frustration. "Excellent. I'll be well within the time limit, I think--Frost hasn't shown his face and very few Venomians were in the cars."
"Did you take care of the ones you came across?"
The assassin took a moment to wipe blood from her switchblades. "Of course I did." Slipping the weapons back into her belt Celestra leapt to the next compartment, hoisting herself up with a soft groan as her wrist seared again in protest. Noticing that the last car preceding the locomotive was without door, she mounted a ladder and began to ascend to the top. "Make sure Falco is ready; in another few minutes I'll be--"
Celestra froze as her boots hit the roof. There, standing between her and the main train operation, was Leon Powalski, arms crossed low over his waist, fingers gently brushing the handles of his matching knives.
"I didn't copy the rest of that, Celest, what?" Slippy pressed worriedly.
"Change in plans," Celestra murmured nervously, whipping out her switchblades and eyeing her crafty adversary coldly. "I may be just a tad bit late; I've got a slight problem to deal with first."
"What's going on? What problem?"
"Nevermind that. Just tell Falco to start on his way." With that the assassin clicked the communicator off; Leon nodded his approval.
"Marquette." The chameleon took a few steps forward, eyes never leaving hers. "I was thoroughly impressed with your beautiful display of acrobatics earlier."
"Powalski." Celestra likewise started toward him, boots clacking at an intimidating crescendo. "Much obliged. I suppose there's no point in asking you to step aside?"
A malicious smirk lit the mercenary's face, not unlike the one Reivin always wore. "No, I don't think that will be necessary. Obviously I can't let you just waltz up to the controls and do as you will with this train."
"Good," Celestra said honestly, readying herself for the fight. "I had expected nothing less from you."
Leon dropped into a defensive stance, cackling wickedly as he brought his blades to bear. "I'm delighted you think so, but come! Let us pursue this foolishness to its final stupidity."
Acid Rain swooped fearlessly into the fray, weaving flawlessly in and out of feverish battle until Slippy spotted Dark Horse and made a beeline for it. At the same time he shouted into the G-Diffuser, "We've got a problem. I think we underestimated Star Wolf; one of them is keeping Celestra from gaining control of the train."
Anilora sighed and bowed his head in exasperation. "They pursue at every turn . . . what are we to do? She has very little time left before the train passes the depot! If this mission fails . . . "
"It won't fail," Falco growled through gritted teeth, and with a look of determination plastered upon his face he fired the small cruisers' engines, tracing the tracks backward in the direction of the Forever Train. "Not if I can help it."
Many things weighed on Celestra's weary mind and heart as she engaged Leon Powalski in close combat. Time was of the essence now more than ever, and it seemed nigh impossible that she could defeat the able mercenary and claim the train in five minutes or less. She could feel the need of every Katinan resting dependently upon her slender shoulders as she and Leon danced nimbly about one another, fighting for balance on the roof of the swiftly-moving steam engine, but it wasn't just the next mission in her job of her next payoff. This time it was an emotional struggle, a fierce intertwining of the girl-child and the assassin as they fought against one another for control over the situation. This indecision served to confused Leon profoundly; at times when he was clearly in control she seemed petrified beyond all rational thought, much as a small child would, but at other times her eyes were deep as the abyss and devoid of all life or emotion. It was in these latter scenarios that the evil mercenary was unable to sublimate thrills of horror, for surely if she could harness the assassin she would have little difficulty defeating him.
'But she is still not whole' Leon reminded himself with a sadistic smile, coming at her with a combination of low thrusts and high slashes. 'Divided and indecisive. Fool! The child can only spell your doom, for she never desired war.'
All of these thoughts pressed in around Celestra as she futilely struck at her enemy, until at last she tripped and sprawled upon her back, head dangling dangerously over the side of the compartment. Leon knelt over her, taking great pleasure in the immeasurable fear in her eyes. "You're never going to save this planet, Celestra," he assured her maliciously, moving one knife in for the kill. "Just like you couldn't save your parents."
Quite suddenly the emotional tension caused Celestra's mind to split in two; time seemed to stop, and then something strange happened. Thoughts and ideals flowed from two separate people within her subconscious; a haze cleared, and vague, shadowy forms of the child Celestra and the assassin Celestra stood resolutely facing each other. The former was quite short, no taller than four feet and adorably a bit chubby; the latter was all of five foot seven with womanly curves and a slim stature. Eyes of an identical hue stared through one another, judging and appraising.
"Leave me," the assassin ordered, finality in her tone, and she turned her back with a deep frown.
"I just want it to be over!" the child's voice rang out, sorrow apparent within it. "This is my home. We didn't do anything to them; just make it stop!"
The assassin chuckled wryly at this and turned back, gazing at the little girl whining in front of her with obvious amusement. "You just don't understand, little one," she explained, crossing her arms. "It will never stop; not until either good or evil wins out. That's how the wretched world works."
"But why? Why did it have to be me? Why this planet? Why my parents?" The child sat down heavily, sobbing; great pearly tears streamed down her plump cheeks until at last the assassin felt a slight pang of sympathy at the sight.
"Because it's fate," she said simply, stepping over to the child's side. "Someone had to do it. Maybe it's not what you wanted, but just look! Revenge is drawing nearer. Very soon you will have the opportunity to pay back those responsible for ruining your life."
The child looked up, anger reflecting through her watery eyes, and asked, "My life? Or yours?"
The assassin paused, taken aback. Whose life was she talking about? Chuckling again she sat down beside her smaller counterpart, sighing. "It's difficult for me to accept the fact that our lives are one."
"I just want to go home," the child admitted, bottom lip quivering slightly. "Please just let me go home."
She found herself smiling sincerely, holding out her arms and letting the child sob upon her bosom, stroking the sad little girl's hair and cooing reassuringly until she slowly quietly. They sat together for awhile, clinging dependently to one another, until they each found some measure of peace.
"Soon," the assassin promised. "I'll take you home soon."
The child looked up at her admiringly, tears still shimmering in her youthful eyes, but all despair had flown from her face now. "You promise?"
"I promise. But I have to take care of this first." The assassin's visage hardened, remembering her ultimate task. "It has to be done."
"I understand." Then she rose, childlike grace and vitality warming the assassin's heart, and melted back into the hazy fog.
Then it was over; Celestra's eyes flew open just in time to deflect one of Leon's wicked blades. Surprise came across his face when the weapon flew from his fingertips at the force of the strike, and with a feral growl the assassin kicked out, catching her adversary in the stomach and launching him across the cab. For several tense seconds Leon scrabbled about the edge in a desperate attempt to find a handhold; unsuccessful, he carreened over the other side, lost far behind the swiftly moving steam engine.
Celestra struggled to her feet and sprinted to the other side, making for the locomotive in a mad rush. The real train conductor was snoring loudly when she dropped noiselessly to the floor from a small overhead hatch. Unholstering one plasma laser and typing wildly at the helm keyboard she discerned that only thirty seconds remained before she passed the last fork in the tracks that would lead to the supply depot. Typing one-handedly was rather difficult, but she managed to plot the new course in the end and scrabbled back up through the roof opening, sliding to the edge flat on her stomach and taking aim at the swiftly approaching track-change lever stuck crudely in the ground just off to the left side.
Falco located the train from high above and veered toward it, still piloting the small Katinan cruiser. "This is it, Celest--you can't miss!"
Captain Anilora was watching it all on his G-Diffuser, high above the battle for the supply depot, his hands clenched on the chair in front of him; Bill and the mercenaries looked on with the breath caught in their lungs. Squinting one eyes closed the assassin steadied her hand and fired. A brilliant flash of blue-green ensued, slicing through the air at incredible speed, and struck the lever head-on, switching the track in another direction at the fork. Only a few moments later the steam engine followed the curve around on its new trajectory, and moving quickly Celestra leapt down the hatch again.
Now the conductor was on his feet, shaken awake on the abnormal turn and attempting frantically to put on the brakes. Laser still in hand Celestra fired once, burning a neat little hole through the back of his head. When he had fallen dead in a heap she fired at the helm madly; sparks flew from the controls, and when she was certain they were completely disabled she again made her way to the outside roof.
The train was speeding non-stop toward the supply depot, which was swarming with Venomians and Katinans. As she approached Celestra could faintly pick out Bill's and Fox's Arwings, and far to one side Captain Anilora's flagship. Wind whipped through her hair and forced her to squint her eyes, but she did not take her stare from the sight for a moment.
Dark Horse matched the Forever Train's speed; Falco worked hard to maneuver it as close to her as possible. The side hatch opened, and at the last moment Celestra leaped for it, crashing to the floor inside. Scrambling up she raced to the cockpit, plopping down in the seat beside Falco as the scene of her greatest achievement unfolded.
As the train hammered at full-speed along its inevitable crash-course the Katinans fell back, running away from the depot. The Venomians on the ground continued their jeering, thinking they had won the day, until they realized that their beloved train was not slowing down. The steam engine barreled straight on through its hangar and into solid adamantite wall, bowling it over in its chaotic run. A massive explosion rocked Macbeth, and in the air all the Katinans gasped in disbelief; even as they looked on great curtains of smoke poured out the dome-shaped building, obscuring the view for several seconds until a second explosion ensued, spouting great chunks of metal into the air. Jubilant cries shook the skies as the destruction became complete, and with a great exhale of fire and a final creak of defeat the supply depot collapsed into the dirt.
Falco punched the air with one fist and cried out in joy for the victory; Celestra turned her head away and allowed a single happy tear to fall from her eyes.
Bill kept poking Falco hard in the arm and demanding to know where they were going, but every time he did so Captain Anilora would turn around and silence the pair of them with a stern glare and a finger pressed firmly to his lips. Fox, Slippy, and Peppy trailed behind speechlessly, clueless as to what was transpiring. Celestra led them across the barren, rocky terrain, something indescribable burning deep in her eyes.
"It's not much further, I promise," she assured them over her shoulder. "And thanks a lot for trusting me enough to follow."
The seven of them had been trekking along the dull Macbeth expanse for nearly an hour now, glancing about curiously for any signs of interest and finding none. Falco desperately wanted to know their destination, and why they were going there at all, and, most importantly to him, why they were walking instead of flying. Captain Anilora alone among them seemed to have at least a slight inkling as to this little journey, for whenever someone asked he said only, "Be patient."
Celestra led them over a low hill and disappeared beyond it; as Falco crested it himself he noticed that she and Anilora had halted and were standing side-by-side facing the hollowed, charred remains of two small buildings, brittle and frail-looking as they sat there, ashen and barely standing. Gradually the others joined them, gazing down at the forlorn setting, until at last Bill asked, "What is this place?"
Celestra lowered her head, momentarily unable to speak, so Anilora heaved a pained sigh and murmured, "Celestra's home."
The male assassin and the Star Fox mercenaries uttered a collective intake of breath, shocked. As Falco further studied the area his keen avian eyes began to piece things together, until at last he could recognize the raised, dried-out wood that resembled a small front porch lining the larger ruin. Stepping around the many piles of rubble he passed Celestra and Anilora, eyes wide and roving, willing his mind to pick out the details. Beyond the wreckage of the house he vaguely made out the roll-up garage that may have, at one time, served as a hangar for some sort of spacecraft. Falco glanced back to the house, pulling forth images of broken windows, collapsed outer walls, and even a caved-in stump of a chimney.
"My God," he whispered, at last seeing the larger picture.
Celestra strode past him, boots silent as they stepped over loose debris. "I haven't been back here for twelve years; not since it happened." Carefully she walked over to the hangar, placing a hand upon it and looking back at them, face emotionless. "When my father returned home from the first war, the Cornerian army had no precedence over the further use of his Arwing, as it was Fortunan-made. He brought it back with him and devoted great deals of his time to its reconstruction; when I was old enough to understand he started teaching me everything he knew. The ship, of course, was The Legacy, which you all once knew as Rage of Macbeth.
"The night of the attack I just happened to be in the hangar when the first shots were fired, and my father told me to fly for Corneria. Don't ask me how I did it, because it was no act of heroism. Somehow I did escape Macbeth as the Venomians devestated it; somehow I lived to tell of it, to pass Andross's rise on to people who could better handle it."
Celestra rummaged about in her flight vest then, producing three small adamantite crosses from a stray pocket. Her comrades followed her back to the front of the demolished house, where she knelt down before the steps and stuck them firmly into the earth. Then she stepped back, accepting Bill's hand and Anilora's arm, and the group stared at the silver shining crosses for a long while in silence.
"So remember with me," she continued at last, finding strength in her friends' presence. "Remember this planet when we depart down the road of shadows into the realm of Andross. For we are not only fighting for the lives of everyone in Lylat--we are fighting to avenge those who were so wrongfully killed all those years ago.
"And those people will have justice."
One-by-one they turned back the way they had come, preparing for the long trek back to the Katinan fleet as they reflected sadly upon Celestra's history. The assassin herself did not turn to follow at first, staring intently now at the shadowy, childlike version of the seven-year-old staring expectantly up at her, eyes shining. They shared a deep gaze in which all other thoughts and feelings were conveyed without words. Then the child spoke at last.
"Can I go home now?"
The assassin knelt down in the ash and reached out, expecting her hand to pass right through the apparition but not faltering when it settled upon a tangible shoulder. "Yes. You can go home now."
A genuine smile lit the child's face and she made for the house, spinning great circles gleefully, arms thrown out, lavender running shoes kicking up little clouds of dust about her dancing feet. Waving to her older counterpart she sprinted up the porch steps and melted through the walls like a ghost.
Celestra Marquette felt as though a large part of her soul had been ripped away, and for this she allowed tears to slip unchecked from her eyes. She could live now, she knew, without any further internal conflicts; her past was at rest, and all now could lay quiet and in peace with the spirited child to protect it. As she turned at last to follow her comrades she saw Anilora standing at the crest of the hill, waiting for her.
"I was just wondering," he asked softly as she joined him. "Why are there three crosses? Two Marquettes died, yes, but the third lives still."
As one the pair glanced back, taking in the wreckage of the house and its three glittering crosses. Celestra let one last tear trail away down her cheek, then she said, "Yes, to the typical outsider, you are correct. But the child who escaped has been dead these twelve long years; we mourn her loss today, for now she is at peace." Together they began on their way again. "The child is gone now; the assassin may again walk away."