Andross looked over his shoulder when James walked in, and almost smiled. That soldier's stride. James didn't march, he strode as if listening to some ass-kicking music in his head, like he owned the world, the gunslinger entering the saloon, the knight strolling onto the battlefield. "I'm amazed. You actually came."

"You're not giving me much choice." James replied bitterly.

"Hah, well, that probably means you don't want to linger, so let's get this over with. Come here."

James did reluctantly, sitting on the examination table Andross indicated, fighting the urge to sulk like his son did sometimes. "What is this about?"

Andross' reply was to run a medical scanner down the left side of his chest, and the picture came up on a screen. James winced, staring at what was an x-ray view of his body. His heart, miraculously, untouched, the lung very obviously scarred, and the ugly view of those four ribs. A few inches of normal bone on either side, the bridge between spanned by the slim metal bars, thin with the hope that they'd flex better. It was obvious the metal bars were feeling their age.

"Military doctors." Andross grunted, crossing his arms and staring at the x-ray. "For the love of science James, why did you let them do this? It would have been easier to rebuild your ribs with a regen kit."

"But a lot more expensive." He replied sourly. "At the time, I was piss-poor. Pennies in my wallet. The only reason they were willing to work on me is because I got the wound in a military accident. It was their fault, and as I understand it they were a lot more concerned with saving my lung."

"And I'm supposing you weren't the great hero then."

"I'm not the great hero now."

Andross gave him a look, one eyebrow cocked. "Maybe you're not the arrogant ass I thought you were. Strip waist up."

"Not until I know exactly what you're going to do to me."

"Fair enough." He pulled a cover off a tray, revealing syringes, medical tools, and a sealed cryo container. "I plan on issuing locals and fixing your ribs. Unless you argue, then I knock your ass out and fix your ribs. Your choice."

"Do you actually know how to do that?"

They locked into another staring contest, and after many long moments James sighed softly, shrugging out of the uniform jacket and then stripping out of the two shirts, folding them and setting them aside. "Happy now?"

"Rarely. But I understand that's you too." Andross gestured for him to lay down, and he did, turning and flopping back, lacing his fingers behind his head and staring at the ceiling purposefully, making himself not react when the first needle jabbed him, the burning cold creeping through flesh and veins. Surface painkiller, he knew, he'd been under the knife so many times now it almost seemed normal. "So. How many times did you chamber a bullet for yourself?"

James glared at him. "Ok, that's just getting personal. Do we need to talk about my suicide attempts?"

"Do you have something better to talk about?" Andross did the eyebrow lift again. "That you need to get off your chest?"

He sighed, focusing back on the ceiling, not even feeling the second needle, trying not to think about the fact that sometime soon he'd be bleeding everywhere. He just hoped that Andross was doing what he said he was. "You have a point."

"I know I do. Psychologically speaking, you're very intriguing. The fact that you've pulled off so much in spite of the chronic depression is impressive." Andross set the needles in the disposal container, checking his watch, lining up the small sharp blades. James' eyes fluttered closed, closing his mind to his body.

"Well, let's see…" James lifted a hand and seemed to be doing long addition in midair, eyes still closed. "Probably fifty or sixty times by now."

"And I bet the gun never actually got aimed in your direction."

"I came really close about… a dozen times." James admitted. "I mean, my will was solid, had a note written, appropriate music playing on the headset, all the stupid clichés of suicide. And something always interrupted me."

"Like?" Andross twirled a scalpel through his fingers like a butterfly knife, already having gloves on, watching his watch count down. He had always known that James was a broken, broken man, the fact that he was still alive was a surprise really, and hearing it all come out was something he'd been wanting to hear for a long time.

"Fox. 'Dad, where are you?'" He imitated his son's voice, a child's voice, and his voice cracked as tears nearly came. "That can break your heart, that situation, and I'd always have to rush to cover my tracks, destroy the note, put the gun away, shut the stereo off, whatever. How could I explain that to him? He inadvertently saved my life so many times… I mean, I can't be that selfish, to off myself and leave him alone that young."

"And when he got older?" Blade through skin, so easily. James didn't twitch, away from his body by painkillers and sheer will. Blood ran, and Andross' hands automatically went through the motions of surgery, keeping the blood flow down as much as possible. Still no reaction from the man under his knife. He shook his head, going deeper, and saw the dull glimmer of the bars, wincing when he saw the screws. A reason to destroy the Cornerian military, right here. This shouldn't have been allowed to happen, this weakness.

"He still did. I'm… I don't think I'm a bad father. I love my kid." He paused. "Peppy is really the only one who caught me in the act. Once. That was horrible."

"Let it out." Andross rubbed blood away, tracing the metal bars, running the cuts farther down James' side.

"Why do you want to know this?"

"Because I'm insane and so are you. We can keep each other company."

James opened his eyes just slightly, looking at the older ape. "I am not insane."

That earned him a dry chuckle. "Just keep talking. Keep your mind off what I'm doing."

"That was the one and only time I tried to go through with it while on my ship. We'd had a bad time on a mission… this was maybe two years ago." His face flickered, pain, but not physical. "And as Fox was in his teens, I snapped and went into one of my more horrible depression streaks. Locked myself into my room, shoved my headphones on, and started writing. I must have written ten pages, the gun right there, but I wanted someone to understand when they found me. That this was a long time coming, that I'd had it… I sort of forgot that Peppy has a talent with both hacking and lockpicking, and was so absorbed in what was going on in my head that when I turned away from the paper and picked up the gun, turning it on myself, he was already there to aim it away from me, eyes on mine. I broke down." James hissed, feeling a sting of pain as something snapped. "Damn!"

"Sorry. It's going to happen again. Can't do anything about it." Andross set the tool to the next screw and snapped it, the bar popping away from the broken edge of rib bone, and James hissed again, chest raising under Andross' hands. "Please be still." He heard himself beg, and was rewarded when James settled back down.

"He let me cry and took my gun, ransacked my room and confiscated everything I could use to hurt myself. Then he threw me on the bed, ripped out my ear phones, and told me to think about my actions for a while because he was going to read my note before trying to talk to me. He stood there, leaning on my desk, paper lifted. I just stared at him blankly, I couldn't see his face, and when he finally lowered the paper, he was crying, staring at me in shock. I'll remember this the rest of my life, he said, 'You always act so happy.' And I said, 'That's right. I act.' We talked for hours, well on into the next day. He burned the note, and told me I should stop cutting this shit and just talk to him next time. I never got close again after that. I mean, I used to think about it a lot, but… OW!"

"Stop your whining."

"Bastard." James opened his eyes enough to glare and regretted it, the swath of red spreading out from his side was pretty noticeable. He pressed his eyes closed again, trying to keep his breathing steady.

Andross dropped the metal bars aside, glancing at the raw edges of the ribs, and popped the cryo container open with a hiss. "Home stretch." He promised absently.

"What's my blood loss?"

"Relax, I'm careful about that. You've hit the point of a normal donation." He glanced at the contents of the container, picking up one of the dull grey spheres. It shifted of its own will in his hand, and he shook his head, touching it to the end of one of James' severed ribs. James gasped in shock as the bone structure rebuilt, the rib reforming and connecting with the other broken edge in less then five seconds. "One down."

"What are you doing?" James choked out.

"Using something I made years ago." Andross replied, doing the next three ribs one after another, watching the bones form and connect smoothly, the new bone strong, scarless. He sealed the container again and set it aside, tracing the new ribs with his fingers with a smile. "Good as new. Now to patch you up."

"Yes, please do."

Half an hour later James was sitting up, smelling of antiseptic and drinking syrupy orange juice, watching Andross dispose of the used equipment, carefully prodding his still numb ribcage. No screws, no metal? The ribs flexed just slightly under his fingers, the common spring of a normal, real ribcage. "What is this made of?"

"Bone." Andross took off the gloves, smiling at him. "Neutal-gen regrow substance. My own creation."

"Hmm. Can I stand?"

"Sure, watch your balance though."

James hopped off the table and inhaled deeply, pleased when his ribs didn't give the once-normal twinge. He smoothed his fingers over the skin, finding no stitches or sutures, just unbroken flesh. "What the hell?"

"I'm a genius." Andross smiled at him. "And I'm very good at what I do. Medical was my first field, not agriculture, not cloning."

"Hm. Well, I have renewed confidence in your abilities." James checked his fur for blood and started shrugging back into his clothing. "Happy?"

"A bit. Go eat dinner."

James sighed and turned to leave. "Yes father."

He wasn't surprised when an empty pill bottle ricocheted off the back of his head. He chose to ignore it.

James was on his way to the galley when he passed a viewport and stopped, staring. The command cruiser had pulled away from Venom a bit, and Zoness was plainly in view. Explosions could be seen wreathing the planet, he could see the cruisers firing planet-siege cannons, the squadrons chasing off and killing Zoness' meager defensive air force, and he leaned on the wall, staring out the view port with his breath caught in his throat.

Even from how far away they were, he saw a small agile cruiser flying through the mess, four fighters plowing the way ahead of it. Defense squadrons were butchered, the few small cruisers from Zoness ripped apart, defensive orbital guns blown. He knew it was Star Wolf, doing their job, and he sighed, rubbing his eyes. Zoness, the paradise planet, a resort world. They had no real military, just what was on loan from Corneria and Katina, they had never needed it. Who would be so cruel as to attack Zoness, where scarcely 4 of the populous personally owned a gun not including cops? Andross, plowing away all resistance so his ground troops could move in afterwards. James dropped his hands to his sides, feeling angry and having no direction to put it to, so he turned away from the painful sight and continued to the galley, knowing now the real price of his turncoat actions.

He said nothing to anyone at dinner, eating quietly alone, ignoring everyone as they parted for him, leaning on the table on one elbow, staring off into the distance, not even really aware of how good the food was. Andross didn't scrimp on some things, that was for certain, but he only barely registered it, taking his tray to the washing station and catching a passing soldier by the shoulder. "Is there a target range on board?"

"Yeah, but lasers and hull-safe rounds only." The stag looked terrified, and James sighed.

"That's fine, where is it?"

The stag told him, and he stopped by his room to collect his gun belt and went directly there, picking up some hull-safe clips and stepping into the booth, putting on a headset and loading the two guns. His son went for laser pistols, he held there was no substitute for the heavy-kicking guns he used—Desert Eagle .50s. Destructive devices, and he took no substitutes.

He also still held them gang-style, barrels flat and clips pointing out, blowing the crap out of target after target. He knew by logic that holding the barrels flat was a bad choice, the kick would make you miss your target, but he barely noticed the kick of these guns anymore, so logic wasn't enough to change years of ingrown habit.

After six clips he stopped, looking over his shoulder. A small cluster of soldiers were standing behind him, obviously watching curiously. The gun range was nearly silent except for the booming of his guns. He sighed and spun them absently, flicking the safeties on as he tossed them in the air, then holstering them cross-armed. Only then did he take the headset off, turning to look at them fully. "Can I help you?" He asked pointedly, and they all took a step back reflexively, even if he had holstered his guns.

"Just impressive, that's all." One said finally, fidgeting. "I mean, we don't see many shell guns around here anymore."

James looked down at the spent shells that had accumulated around his feet, and almost laughed. "I hold lasers are for wimps who can't take recoil, but I come from a somewhat interesting background. Besides, there's no substitute for true damage dealing."

That caused some discomfort as they all looked at each other, and finally the one on the far left, a muscular tiger, spoke up. "You realize, of course, that you just called all of us wimps."

"I also realize none of you can do anything about it. Just try me boys. I'm just in the mood for a good fight." James rumbled a low growl and put his headset back on, turning back to the targets and hitting a switch to reset them, cross-drawing the Desert Eagles and opening fire again. He growled when a finger tapped his shoulder, and he turned again, guns dangling in his hands. "What?" He snapped, shoving the headset down. "I'm in a really surly mood, boys."

"We don't like your attitude, McCloud. You act like you're elite, like you're something special." The tiger said, apparently taking on the position of ringleader of the group. "We know you're just bought off by our Emperor. And that doesn't make you anything in our forces. Just a civie, taking up space and air."

"Back the fuck off or face the consequences."

There was a long silence, and James stepped forward out of the booth, setting the guns aside and lifting his hands in warning, lifting an eyebrow. The group, numbering eight, glanced at each other again and almost laughed. Eight on one, and James was clearly not afraid of his odds.

"You can't be serious." The tiger scoffed. "We should put you in your place just as a warm-up exercise."

"Hit me or shut up!"

The badger on the far right moved, a sharp quick jab meant to connect with James' side, but James dodged easily, and the entire group attacked. James wasn't surprised when the tiger landed a heavy blow on his repaired ribs immediately, and there was a frozen moment as they stared at him. He staggered but took it, not collapsing in pain as before, and laughed softly at them. "Sorry guys. That doesn't work anymore." And then he struck back.

He kept himself from going full throttle, like he had with Pigma. Mostly it was dodges and twirls, their blows barely grazing him, his sweeps knocking them down. His blows were precise and hard, and the tiger went down first, skidding on his back and nursing his gushing nose. One! He moved to the badger, dropping to the deck as several hits passed over him, and spun, catching the badger behind the knees. The badger fell, and yelped in pain as one of James' heels came down hard on his chest, bones cracking. Two! Then he was up again, whirlwind kicking, and two more staggered back, going down moments later as he followed up with two more blows. Three, four! He went into a waiting combat stance, looking at the remaining three, who were standing there, frozen and terrified. After a long second, he grinned and lunged at them, yelling "BOO!" And as he predicted, they yelped and bolted, leaping their injured friends and scrambling out of the gun range.

He laughed, dusting off his hands and looking at the four, who were trying slowly to get to his feet. "Thanks. I needed that."

"Asshole!" The tiger spat, both hands at his nose, blood dripping on the floor.

"You hit first." He replied mildly, picking up and holstering his guns. "You knew the risks." Leaving it at that, he walked out of the gun range, letting the four injured men sort themselves out.

Marisa rolled over, glaring at the glowing clock with a sigh. By ship time, it was one in the morning, and she couldn't sleep. She didn't even feel tired. She sighed and sat up, brushing her hair back with her fingers and pressing the remote button to key up the lights.

On a ship, there was always staff awake, they were on a three-shift rotation twenty-four hours a day. But all the people she really knew were on day shift, Andross included. She always felt alone when she woke up at night, and sometimes it even scared her. She huffed at herself in annoyance and pushed off the bed, standing and brushing the wrinkles out of the tank top and sweats. Well, she was up, now what to do? She had showered before bed, and didn't feel like running endlessly on a treadmill. She looked at her chess set on the desk thoughtfully, walking over to it and picking up one of the marble pieces. It was an expensive set, she knew intuitively, the pieces carved marble and the board (which folded to become a case for the set) heavy wood. She wasn't sure where Andross got it, but chess had been their first game, before she had even been out of the hospital wing.

She packed up the set and tucked it under her arm, leaving the room and padding down the hallway softly. Andross wouldn't be awake, she knew, and even if he was she didn't want to disturb him. Leaving, of course, only one person she really thought would be willing to play chess with her at this hour of the night.

James startled when there was a knock at his door, sitting up on the bed. He was wearing sweat shorts and that was all, laying on his back staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore his nicotine craving. Damn O'Donnel anyway for giving him a cigarette, anyway. He scratched the back of his head, looking at the clock, and walked over to the door, sliding it partway open and jumping when he came nose to nose with Marisa, obviously in pajamas, a folded wooden gameboard hugged to her chest. "Uh, hi?" He said blankly, suddenly very conscious of his bare chest, and worse, his scarred back.

She blinked up at him. "I can't sleep. Do you play chess?"

"Uh, yeah, yeah I do. You can come in I guess." He opened the door fully and let her by, head spinning. "Why can't you sleep?"

"Oh, I don't know." She sighed, sitting on the floor and setting up the board, then freezing mid-motion when he crossed the room and picked up a shirt from the back the desk chair, staring at his back. The musculature was beautiful, strong shoulders, the long line of where his spine was with the muscles raised on either side, but the scarring was horrible. "Oh my god. What happened to you?"

He jumped when her fingers touched his back, hackles spiking up automatically. "I did remark about the torture scars on my back when we were in the gym." He said over his shoulder. "Those are torture scars."

"Oh, my…" She trailed her fingers over one of the stripes, watching him shudder under her touch. "Whip?"

"Similar idea, a cane lash. Old ideas apparently work the best." He let out a choked laugh. "Listen, uh, this is really awkward."

"Oh, sorry." She dropped her hand and stepped back, and he pulled his shirt on in a record time. "I'm really sorry." She said honestly, hugging herself and looking away when he turned to face her.

"No, don't worry about it." He managed a smile and moved to kneel by the chess set, and she joined him, separating the pieces and setting them up. "You really like chess, huh?"

"Yeah. Andross got me playing, I like it a lot." She paused, setting the last pawn down on her side. "You're letting me have white."

"Yeah, I'm a gentlemen that way." He stuck out his tongue to put across he meant that humorously, settling down Indian-style on the floor. "So why did you pick me to play chess with?"

"I figured you wouldn't mind, and I've been wanting to ask you about a few things." She imitated his posture, resting one arm on her leg and moving a pawn with the other. He studied the board for a split second, then moved one of his own.

"Oh, like what?"

She scratched below one of her ears, feeling awkward. "Well, I've never set foot on a planet before, so… I was sort of hoping you could tell me about Corneria?" Seeing his startled look, she added, "I mean you are from there right?"

"Yes and no. Originally, I'm from Papetoon. Don't worry if you've never heard of it. I've spent the last twenty years easy on Corneria though." He leaned back, propping himself on the heels of his hands. "But yeah, I can do that. What do you want to know?"

"Just… anything. Everything you can remember, good or bad."

So he told her, starting with his first planetfall into Corneria City in an old military shuttle, after the shake-hands with the Cornerian military. She listened entranced, the chess game soon all but forgotten as he told her about the city, the academy, going from there to what he knew about the rest of the planet. He told her about Katina, the mining planets Titania and Macbeth, the water planet Aquas, and lastly, poor Zoness. He told her about the resorts, the sea serpents, the peaceful hippie vibe the whole place had. And he, after hesitating, told her what he thought Andross was doing to it right now.

She stared at him, surprised. "Why would Andross attack a planet that's so low threat?"

"Basic military savagery. Prevents rebels from getting strong holds, weakens the enemy." James sighed, shaking his head. "At least, that's what I think."

There was a long pause, the pair looking at each other, and she sighed. "Thanks. It's depressing though, because I know the planets you describe are not the planets I'll end up seeing."

James allowed a half smile. "You never know."