Part II - Drift Away
-- -- -- -- --
Absentmindedly, three thin green fingers nimbly glided the length of the cold, ridged stone. They hovered for a moment over a narrow slit in the rock, internalizing the texture. Then they moved again, and found the smooth iron bars that stood to the left of him. Leon stroked them with a gentle hand, mind having hazed over long ago, leaving him deep in the midst of his own thoughts. He was often so complex and over-analyzing that thinking overpowered him, but he could scarce resist his own mind.
Shadows slid up the wall, lit by torched lamps hanging from the ceiling. Instinctively taking note, his eyes came back into focus in time to catch the soft footsteps that signaled an arrival.
"We've been given 45 minutes' estimated arrival time. Be ready to await further orders once we've been cleared for landing." She announced. The spaniel was very lovely, with winds of golden hair and feminine blue eyes, and Leon knew that somewhere in space, her stiff body lay, frozen and abandoned.
His eyes remained locked in place, as if awaiting her continue.
"O'Donnell is being treated in the medical bay." She pressed on, almost mechanically. "His blood contained so much alcohol that we felt it best to keep him supervised until we can be sure he's thinking on a normal level."
There was a good remark about how Wolf, sans alcohol, was in fact not thinking on his normal level, but he knew she did not care to hear it more than he didn't care to utter it.
He felt her eyes on him, more so on his lithe joints and almost incorporeal form. It was haunting and intriguing, how ghostlike his frame, and how adept he was at simply gliding and slinking like a ribbon or a cobra. Just sitting, he was an eerie presence by himself, as though he could move at any moment and appear elsewhere, or simply disappear into thin air.
"Had you eaten yesterday?" She asked, point-blank.
"I'm afraid Wolf's shameless indulgence didn't do much for my own appetite." He replied curtly. "You could fetch me something, if you will." As if he were a rich man to a waitress rather a prisoner to their overseer.
She nodded, and her light footsteps faded away, her presence forgotten by all but the lone prisoner. His senses, now calm, allowed his mind to wander once more.
The spaniel was a good disguise. It masked a pale gray lizard with empty black eyes. It masked her voice, her tail… and even her mannerisms seemed undetectable when coming from this strange source.
It was so easy to forget that behind the image of the golden maiden was the woman who had murdered his daughter. The murder that had driven him insane, the insanity that had driven him to Andross. And it had all gone from there.
Presumably, based on his own inferences, Venom had just a small scattering left, small enough to be undetectable, but with a firm network. Perhaps Andross was dead, but the cleanup efforts had failed to rub out some very important characters, including himself.
He'd picked up bits and pieces from the news, which he watched to pass time in the abandoned outposts he and Wolf had a habit of hiding out in. Corneria was rebuilding, and the Interplanetary Alliance was starting to resurface after months of enemy infiltration, government corruption, and conflict. All the damage that Andross had done would be, in time, reversed. They were going up against an enemy so massive and determined, that if word leaked, the resistance would be quickly, and forcefully, crushed, with no more difficulty that StarFox had wasted entire fleets of Venomese fighters.
He was not scared, nor apprehensive; but it amused him, the relentless struggle for political correctness. Why was everyone so blind to all but their own opinions, and willing to shed blood for a futile cause? Wasn't that the background of the Venomese resistance in the first place?
Most people, he had decided long ago, fought for causes. He just enjoyed toying with fear. Clouding minds, driving victims to insanity, living out every last moment of faceless anticipation until the ripping sensation tore through them…
Most people lived for love: for their families and homes. Leon had none of these; just Wolf, and it looked like it would always be this way. He wasn't sure if he could call it love, per se; but he was the only being he associated with "home".
It was as simple as that, and he had never questioned it before.
--
"Commanding Officer Brinkley to Mission Control… Fugitives on board, repeat…"
General Strype, now the far less regal raccoon, sat in front of the radio, handling the details of the landing. Amuro, eyes blank, let her gaze wander from the flashing items on the radar. She took a tentative bite of the half-eaten jelly donut in her paw, an odd craving she developed from time to time. It wasn't bad, being beautiful. Even in her own youth, she hadn't felt quite like this. Reptilians, fairly uncommon to their furry counterparts, tended to live on quiet planets like Zoness and those that did choose to blend with modern society were generally not recognized for their looks.
The losers at the donut counter offered her the box free if she agreed to "do a little dance" for them. Two men in the line behind her laughed and cheered on the idea, so she went along for kicks. If you have a secret life, who says you can't do what you want to?
She had already brought Leon one of the donuts, having discovered their food supplies had run substantially low during their long trek to Sector Z. He definitely looked surprised at her choice of offering, especially whilst behind bars.
"We're cleared to land." The general announced, causing Amuro to snap back to reality. "Be at the ready, Styx. I don't want any of this space case nonsense."
Hesitantly, "Pardon, sir." She wanted to explain to him that it was hard to stop thinking about the pressures of her new job - managing the most elite of the Venomese forces. But it had just been his job, and he'd pulled through with results. She didn't want him thinking that she couldn't handle it. The first step in making an impression was an air of confidence.
As they approached the docking bay, she could feel the rumble of the engine for the first time, as pressure vibrated and echoed against walls rather than evaporating into empty space. Soon they had reached their designated "parking space", where a small panel of people, most of them technicians, stood on the balcony that overlooked their landing area.
The engine's roar died down in one final, fading wail and the raccoon that was General Strype waddled awkwardly down the ramp. They were greeted at once by an even shorter, stouter fellow wearing a lab coat, whom the two of them recognized at once.
"Ah, yes! Welcome, welcome, and congratulations, Cornelius!" He took Strype's paw and shook rapidly, excitement clear in his disposition. "Oh, and I don't believe we've met before, young lady." He took Amuro's hand and covered it with his other. "Please, it's Beltino Toad! A pleasure to meet you."
"The pleasure is mine, Mr. Toad." She smiled, amazed at how sweet the sound of the voice that came out of her own mouth.
"Please, I'm Beltino." He chuckled, then turned back to the raccoon he believed to know.
"Cornelius Brinkley, here to confirm the successful possession of Wolf O'Donnell and Leon Powalski of Team StarWolf." Strype stated firmly to a man standing by, jotting down on his handheld computer. "Now then, Beltino, you will find O'Donnell in the medical unit attached to the ship's dorsal. He is inebriated and has suffered a gunshot wound to the left leg. Powalski is being held in the brig."
"I'll relay this to the PDP squad at once." Beltino chuckled, this time a bit less cheerily. "Just think, a year and a half after Andross' termination, and we're still picking up the pieces."
"We all knew it'd be a slow route to recovery," The faux Brinkley replied. "A very slow route indeed."
--
At the prime of his life, Fox McCloud felt as though there were better uses of his time than, what he liked to call it, "running errands" for General Pepper. A year and a half after the most glorious adventure (and paycheck) of his young life, he was out of debt, at the least - but running a private ship and keeping several top-of-the-line vehicles in perfect shape was definitely a financial nightmare.
"Egh, I hate patrol duty." Falco spat into the radio, stating exactly what Fox had the perseverance not to. "Oh no, Fox. I think that cactus down there is calling me out."
"Enough of that, Falco. You know what could happen if we let something potentially dangerous slip past our watch. Titania is a dangerous place."
"Then why the heck is the government planning to settle people here!" Falco demanded, probably for the seventh time. "Even the insect life here is capable of leveling buildings! I'd love to see the men in suits try and sugarcoat that story - which you know they will."
"Once the electric fences are built, nothing will be able to get through." Fox repeated patiently. "They did this with Corneria too, in the beginning, Falco. It was uninhabitable as well."
"Well, Corneria's scarcely got a hint of nature left. I think the planet's made of metal, personally."
"Oh, quit whining, Falco." Slippy huffed. "This is the easiest money we're ever gonna get. It's either this, or we can help rebuild the sewage pipes in Zoness. Your choice."
"Look, all I'm sayin is that they coulda chose a better location. Alright, Corneria's getting crowded, I'll agree with that too. But why this desert rock, when there's Fortuna - "
Peppy finally spoke up. "Fortuna has been a dense jungle for millions of years. There are countless exotic diseases, and it would take an indefinite amount of time to come up with vaccines. There's a reason we built the military outposts on Fortuna's barren ice caps."
Slippy sighed, turning his gaze back to the cockpit of his Arwing - then raised a brow, the gold light was flashing.
"Everyone! ROB's paging us!" pause. "He's gotten a transmission from my dad!"
Thank God. "Let's hear it!" Fox ordered, and Slippy pressed the button. "Alright, relaying…"
A synthetic voice came on over the radio. "Message from Beltino Toad - priority two, stating Powalski and O'Donnell have been located in Sector Z and are currently hostages of the government."
"What?!" Falco shouted, almost simultaneous with the end of the word "hostages".
Fox stared at the control panel in disbelief. He didn't so much care that it was the government doing and not his own, as long as Wolf and his team were put behind bars. But Falco was going to be in a foul mood; he'd make occasional comments about wanting to get at Powalski himself.
"Locations of Pigma Dengar and Andrew Oikonny - unknown?" he pressed.
"Affirmative."
Sinking into his seat, memories of the war returned to haunt Fox's mind. Wolf and Leon, behind bars - that was reassuring, at least, but he couldn't believe that it had been the smarter half of the team to get caught firsthand. He wondered, briefly, if Pigma and Andrew were even alive.
"I'm sure they'll turn up shortly. They couldn't have been far from the rest of the team, assuming they generally stayed together." Peppy sighed.
Still… something didn't seem right in Fox's mind. "ROB, was there a struggle?"
"None reported."
"Now, that doesn't sound like the StarWolf we know," said Peppy, on everyone's behalf. "I can't believe they'd let themselves get taken in."
"I think the military musta just walked in on 'em while they were sleeping," Falco deduced irritably. "StarWolf would sooner get themselves blown up in a battle against 100 ships than put down their guns and surrender."
"I don't see what everyone is so upset about. We nabbed StarWolf, isn't that what counts?"
"We're all just naturally paranoid, Slip," Peppy explained, staring up into the vacant sky. "It seems out of character for Wolf and his team. It's just a bit suspicious."
Slippy sighed tiredly. "Just because there was no report of a struggle doesn't mean there wasn't one. The government usually saves full, uncut mission files in a top-secret location with tight access… My dad's been working with the Lylat reconstruction committee for more than a year, but half this stuff I didn't even know until a month ago. It's a very secretive business…" He fumbled quietly with his fingers.
Something suddenly caught Fox's eye. He had let his Arwing drift up into the lower atmosphere; even from up here, he could make out a small brown blur against the desert sand.
"That'll be enough detective, everyone. I think one of the natives is nearing the construction site. Falco, back me up. Everyone else, stay focused."
--
Wolf felt himself slip back into consciousness, gradually, still. The scent was highly unfamiliar.
The instant he opened his eyes, he found himself face-to-face with a blank white ceiling, highly unlike what he was used to seeing in the morning. He shot up, heart pounding, instinctively extending an arm to his belt, but there was no blaster, and there was no belt…
"W-where is this!" He demanded of the man standing next to him, a tall stag in doctors' apparel. The man had a gentle face, but his smile was more of a halfhearted, forced thing, and he didn't seem to want to make eye contact.
"Relax," He had out a clipboard. "You, Mr. O'Donnell, are in the hospital at the South Cornerian military outpost," He scribbled something. "Life doesn't get much better after this."
Wolf sighed bitterly. "…What are you recording! Is something wrong with me?"
"Groceries. Tuesdays are mine." He replied curtly. "And to answer your question, you're absolutely good to go. That leg wound was little more than a bullet graze. Still, you lost a fair bit of blood, that coupled with your inebriation is what knocked you out."
Wolf nodded awkwardly, more in shock than anything. Inebriation? What the hell did that mean? He decided not to voice this question.
"…How did I get here?" He demanded, yet another question.
"Two officers picked up you and your mate Powalski in Sector Z, and you are now prisoners of the Cornerian government." The stag replied calmly, still dabbing at his grocery list. "Questions? Ask now, the PDP will escort you to your new residence shortly."
"Leon too…?" Wolf muttered, more to himself than anything.
"Yes. From what I've heard, his hearing was delayed until you were able to attend court, so you could be tried at the same time."
The stag turned to his monitor, surprisingly unconcerned with the notion of having a most-wanted criminal behind him, weaponless or not. For the first time, Wolf noticed the discomfort around his wrists, and found out why - he was bound to the table, like one of Leon's hapless victims. The thought was fairly unnerving.
He lay back down, his mind still a blur. Even more unsettling was how he couldn't seem to remember a thing about his alleged capture. He expected the leg wound was from some kind of violent struggle, and it was a gunshot - it was ground combat. Were he and Leon hiding out in empty outposts again?
"O'Donnell, you dishonor your name. Put aside the pain and rise."
Eyes widening, he held on to that thought and struggled with all his might. It slipped away from him.
"Fortunately, I'm not here to pick at grudges."
It took him a second, but he recognized this voice. It was definitely that of Amuro Styx - four years had done little to make him forget. But… what had been her business in this matter?
He gave up on these thoughts, instead focusing on the white, desolate tile of the ceiling in disbelief. He hated little more than losing. And he had been taken down unceremoniously, by a couple of police. Been it at the hands of StarFox, at least the conflict could have ended once and for all. In that situation, he was certain he'd rather have died then been taken prisoner, at the mercy of Fox's deranged form of government…
"You just don't like to lose."
He could just imagine Leon voicing those words that he heard in his mind; he was sitting at a chair, sipping whatever it was he usually sipped, eyes like slitted amber lights against his own, dark and searching…
A couple of lightly armored men appeared at the door and tossed something in his face.
"Get dressed. You're going to jail."