Unrecognisable

Present Time - Kew


"The usual?" asked Bruce the bartender of the Primordial Pub. Kursed nodded and within a few moments the drink appeared in front of her. Between the glass and the coaster was a thin memory card, which she discreetly picked up and tucked into a pocket of her leather pants.

She enjoyed the drink in peace and contemplated her new life. She was getting more jobs and credits now, but competition was hard and she was hardly living a life in luxury. Most of her income was spent on fuel, weapons and maintenance of her Cloud Runner. While she's rented a couple of storage units for backup equipment, she still kept the ship hidden in a cave in the mountains. What she didn't spend on necessities, she was saving for setting up her own lair, and she was toying with the idea of getting Hope out of The Merchant's dirty little clutches. Maybe she could look after business, while Kursed was out hunting.

She finished her drink, left a decent tip for Bruce, and walked out of the bar back towards her ship. She still often slept in it, sometimes in hotels but never two nights in the same place, and sometimes in Hope's flat when she was on Kew. She'd bought a hover bike to go back and forth between Richmount and her mountain hideout.

As soon as she'd climbed into the cockpit and closed the canopy, she put the memory card in a slot and the contents appeared on screen. First was an amount, then a name, a photo and a short bio of the target. Finally there was communicator number. She sent a brief message to the number. 'Assignment accepted'.


The glow from the computer screens were reflecting in the canine's glasses as he frantically typed away on the keyboard. He double-checked what he'd written, moved some text around and added pictures and source references. He was amazed with the amount of corruption he'd found, ties with he underworld all through Richmount's local government and even up to a minister in the Kew government. Another couple of days and his story would be ready to hit the news. This was his chance to make his big break within the media corporation.

Exhausted the beagle grabbed his cup and had a sip of the coffee, that had long gone cold. He'd lost track of how many cups he'd had, as well as the time. It was probably way into the small hours of the night. He turned to look out the window of his office towards the city's skyline, dreaming of becoming the next news anchor.

It was when he turned back to the computer, that he saw the reflection of another face in the monitor. Then one strong hand slapped a piece of duct tape over his mouth while another put a knife to his throat.

"Not a sound and put your hand behind your back," hissed a voice. He obeyed and felt his hands being cuffed. Then his attacker put a few loops of duct tape around him, strapping him to his office chair, before he was swivelled around. He stared right into two glaring sea-green eyes, which were framed with long messy hair a violent shade of violet. His heart sank. He'd heard of a vixen fitting that description and he knew there would be no big break. This was the end!

You've been Kursed! Her voice was inside his head and then he started thinking and recalling things without having any control over his mind. There were memories of what his researched had uncovered, his loving wife, his beautiful children, and a forbidden night in a hotel room with a male feline.

Kursed didn't feel and didn't care, but sometimes she still needed some amusement. She liked to see what atrocities her prey had committed and if possible torment them about it, making the memories she pulled out as unpleasant as possible. But this time she was really unimpressed. He was just a loving family man and his little gay fling was something for him to sort out with his wife. So what, he was about to expose some corrupt politician or something, but weren't they all here in this system? The journalist might get his fifteen minutes of fame, but then it would all blow over.

The vixen pulled up another chair and sat down opposite the man, just thinking and tossing a knife with a matte black blade in one hand, watching a dark patch growing on the man's trousers. Some clients just didn't get that she was a bounty hunter, not just any old contract killer. There was a subtle different, just like some merchants were noble. Where the heck had that thought come from?

"Stay put!" she exclaimed and disappeared. What else could he do? The following hours were the worst in the canine's life, with nothing to do except fretting over his demise, worrying about who would look after his family, hoping in vain that a security guard or cleaner would come by.

Finally Kursed returned with a small bag that she threw on the floor in front of the man. She put her black knife on top and then she pulled out a syringe from a side pocket.

"This will only sting a bit. When you wake up you'll be on your way to the Arctos System," she said and gave the syringe a tap with her index finger. Then she pondered for a moment and looked at the man's left paw. "Minus a finger! I need something to convince my client that you're dead. You'll be in complete darkness in a crate on a freighter, but don't worry, there will be air and there is enough food and water in this bag to last you there. Someone will let you out on the other side."

She stared the man straight in his eyes.

"There is also some gold in the bag, my fee less what it cost me to get you on that freighter. It should be enough for start, but get a job and take a new name. Let's see, what's your middle name and your wife's maiden name?"

He was waiting for her to take the gag off, but she just delved into his mind again.

"Simon Maremma! Ok, that will do. Use that and stay there, just in case your family gets an anonymous tip. Do not come back, because I will know and would have to kill you before anyone else does. Got that?"

He nodded frantically, then she stung him and he blacked out.


Fox thanked his lucky stars, as his broken Arwing touched down opposite Vince's speeder outside the Primordial Pub. He'd battled for what seemed like hours with the ship, emptied all the fire extinguishers, opened cargo hatches and used every trick he knew to extract heat. Finally he had managed to cool down and stabilise the G-diffusor, but the main cooling system was shot and he suspected that there might be damage to the diffusor's core. He could run the ship on the backup cooling system, but only at a fraction of its full power.

He climbed down from the cockpit and stood in front of his ship. Vince was standing in front of his speeder holding a black duffel bag in one hand.

"What took you so long?" inquired the cheetah.

"I felt like a victory lap," said Fox and shrugged.

"Pretty fast that thing, at least in vacuum. What sort of drive do you have? Nuclear? Ion? Photon?"

"Gravity diffusion!"

"Gravity what? Never heard of it. Is that how you got so close to the black hole? That sounds like cheating to me!"

"And bumping and shooting opponents isn't?" said Fox. Vince hesitated and the knuckles of his paw whitened, as he tightened the grip of the bag.

"ROB, show what else the Arwing has got," said Fox and tapped his headset. Hatches opened under the fighter's wings and the laser cannons emerged. "Yeah, she's heavily armed too. Now, hand over the price money. I won fair and square."

"In gold, as you wanted," said Vince and threw the bag halfway to Fox, who walked over and opened it. The contents sure looked like gold coins and bars in various sizes. He ran a scanner over some of the pieces, which confirmed that there were indeed gold, but ROB hadn't been able to find a reliable source for the price of it. It seemed to vary a lot.

"Well, if it isn't a quarter of a million, you know what those lasers will do," threatened Fox, hoping that it was the promised amount. "Now, what about Kursed?"

"Go ask Bruce," sulked the cheetah.

Full circle!


Bruce the bartender of the Primordial Pub finished drying glasses and turned around. To his surprise that crazy redheaded pilot had appeared on a barstool. Bruce grunted disapprovingly.

"Please!" said Fox and held up his hands. "I'm not after information this time, just a drink."

Of course he was after information, and Bruce being the main man in a shady but popular watering hole like this would surely know a few things, but Fox had decided to take a different approach this time. He put some gold pieces down on the bar and pushed them over towards the bartender.

"A bit old fashioned, but I've been told it's still legal tender around here."

The kangaroo just pushed them back.

"Ok, I get it," said Fox while the bartender started pouring a glass. "I'll get out of here."

The bartender put the glass down in front of Fox.

"This is a half-decent whiskey. On the house!"

"Oh... Geez... Thanks a lot!"

"That was some pretty darn good flying today. You paid twenty to one. Someone might have put a bet in, if you get my drift."

Fox shook his head. Everything around this system was crazy.

"And why would someone bet on me?" asked Fox.

"You lot from Lylat have a pretty good track record in that race."

"What? Has someone from Lylat done it before?"

"Only one other pilot, and he won it, so between the two of you, it's a perfect track record."

Fox sipped the drink and eyeballed Bruce, hoping for more information.

"It was a few years ago, but I remember him," continued the kangaroo. "Big blue bird with a bird like name too. Falcon or something like that."

"Falco Lombardi?" said Fox and his lower jaw nearly dropped onto the countertop in disbelief.

"Yeah, I reckon," said the boomer and nodded. "Is the name familiar?"

"He used to be my wingman!"

"That figures!" chuckled Bruce.

Fox took another sip, trying and failing to process what he'd just learnt.

"This IS good stuff! I get it now. The pub is named after that primordial thing, isn't it?"

The bartender nodded again. Fox gazed out through the glassed ceiling, knowing that the small black hole was out there somewhere, but of course it couldn't be seen. Then his eyes fell upon a snow white vixen in tight fitting clothes that walked past. He admired her very generous curves for a moment, until she turned her head and glared at him over her shoulder. What was that about?

"I made some money as well," he continued and thought about ROB's struggles with verifying the value of it. "But I think I got shafted anyway. I guess gold isn't worth as much as I was lead to believe."

"It's worth some."

"I busted the ship too and that's a problem. It's hard to find someone who wants to go near a gravity diffusor around here."

"Hmm," said the kangaroo, thinking and wrestling with his loyalties, while scratching his chin and twitching his long ears. "You might wanna go to Kew Market tomorrow."

"Kew Market?"

"Yes, you can get all sorts of stuff there," continued Bruce. "In fact, you'll find all sorts there."

Kew Market? That sounded quaint. But Fox doubted they'd be selling flowers and vegetables.


Hope had been working late and was dead tired as she entered her unit and closed the door behind her. She was about to turn on the lights, when she smelled the scent of Kursed. In the darkness she silently tiptoed over to her bedroom, slowly opened the door, and sure enough, there was Kursed asleep in the bed. But how did she know he codes to the flat? Hope had recently changed them.

When Hope was home, Kursed would usually bang on the door demanding to be let inside, other times she just let herself in. Once it had come in handy though, when Hope against her better judgement agreed to bring a client home to her unit, but the private session went awry. Kursed arrived just in time to stop the assault and throw the man out with most of his bones left unbroken.

Hope went to the bathroom to undress and have a quick wash as quietly as she could, then she snuck back to the bedroom and carefully slipped in between the sheets. Kursed was laying on her side facing away from Hope, and Hope studied Kursed's figure in the little ambient light from the neon signs outside the window. She so wanted to hold that slender but strong body, but she could look but not touch, not without Kursed's permission. After a while Hope felt herself drifting off to sleep.

The tossing and turning woke Hope up. Kursed was dreaming, repeating the same word over and over again, a word in a strange language. Hope wondered what a "maibeibee" was, or maybe it was a name? Either way, it was clear that Kursed was hurting. Suddenly she gasped and panting she sat straight up. Hope felt a pang of guilt, but she couldn't stop herself from watching the blue vixen's bosom moving with the heaving chest. Kursed pulled up her tank top and touched the scar on her stomach, that scar she refused to talk about.

After a while Kursed settled down and turned her head to Hope, as if she'd just realised there was someone next to her in the bed.

"That nightmare again?" Hope whispered. Kursed nodded. "Want to tell me about it?"

"No!" came the immediate reply.

They stayed in awkward silence for a while, Hope worrying about how Kursed would react if she told her what she knew.

"There's...," she started. "There's a stranger looking for you all over the system."

"Yeah, I've heard those rumours too."

"I saw him at Bruce's today."

Hope could hear Kursed gasp.

"What does he look like?"

"Vulpine, average height, quite buffed, orange fur, green eyes and red hair with a white tuft between his ears," said Hope and had a good think. "Oh, and he wears a red scarf and an insignia with a flying fox."

"It can't be!"

"Do you know him?" Hope inquired. Kursed just stared straight ahead, not moving a muscle apart from her twitching ears, as her mind battled with itself.

"I knew him," she said eventually.

There was another uncomfortable silence.

"He's a mercenary. I was on his team. The team was all I had and gave him everything in return. I gave him all of me. Then he pushed me away. I..., I..."

And then she trailed off, realising that she hadn't learnt the Quango word for love, if there was one.

"He'd better not find me," Kursed concluded. "For his own sake."


The next day Kursed made her way through the crowds of Kew Market with her senses on overdrive. The market was really a deserted town with a labyrinth of old buildings, newer structures and landing zones for ships. Stalls of varying shapes and sizes lined the laneways and there was an endless chatter of negotiations. The scents from the foods and goods being peddled saturated the air, which was hot from the rays of Helios beating down on it all. Kursed's telepathy was getting overwhelmed by the many minds around her.

But there was more to the market than what was out in the open. All sorts of illegal or immoral goods and services and more were traded in dark rooms behind closed doors, all completely ignored by the planets local government, due to the generous kickbacks they got from the trade. That of course brought the worst scum from both the neighbouring systems and from far away here, and you could never be sure who wanted to rob or kill you. She wasn't wearing the monk's robe as a disguise, but it didn't hurt either.

She found the old building she was looking for and slipped inside. It was dimly lit by candle lights and burning torches, and decorated with ancient writings on the walls and plenty of statues. It was an old place for worship of gods and spirits, but from the smells and the peoples blank stares she could tell that other things were worshipped here now. She didn't like drugs. They would cloud her mind, which she so desperately relied on.

She saw and old man in black and white robes, starched collar and a chain with some sort of symbol around his neck. He matched the description she had been given.

"May the spirits bless you," she greeted him. Seriously? What a dumb passphrase!

"May you be blessed too, my child," answered the old man. This was getting ridiculous.

"I've been told you have a pest problem. It will cost forty-thousand credits, but it will be a thorough cleanup."

"I cannot accept your services," said the old man. "It seems you have a pest problem on your own."

"What do you mean?"

"Surely you know. A certain redhead is drawing too much attention."

"He's not a problem."

"Of course he is! Rumour has it he's even here on Kew asking about you."

"I will get the job done."

"There is no job. Now go!"

More men dressed in monk's robes had turned up. They each had a hand tucked inside their clothes, and she knew they were not reaching for symbols of worship, but for tools of death. She was very temped to take the fight to them, but if he was around here somewhere, she'd better just get out unnoticed.

She backed out of the building the same way she came, ready to draw her own blasters if she needed to. Once outside she put the hood over head and snuck away through the laneways. The Cloud Runner had been damaged in a recent fight and she needed replacement parts, but for that she needed credits and for that she needed jobs. Why had he come here messing things up? Hadn't he cause enough hurt already? She should find him. Finish him!

Her thoughts must have distracted her, because suddenly she saw a sight that made stop in her tracks and the blood froze in her veins. He was standing there, just a few paces away, in conversation with two tall and hairy beings. She glared at him, trying to blank her mind, so she wouldn't reveal herself. But then he meet her stare with a puzzled look. They stood like that for a few moments, and the he just turned back to the conversation he'd been involved in.

He did not recognise her.

After what he had done to her. She was shocked and confused.

He is truly dead to me, she thought and headed to her ship with double speed.


What a lunatic place! Fox had learnt a strange custom in this system. Never touch a man's vessel! But that had less to do with respect for ownership than fear of booby traps. So he had just touched down on one of the many landing zones, armed and left his Arwing and wandered off into Kew Market, having no idea what he would find. Some creatures had shown a certain interest in his ship, but after he had just mentioned "gravity diffusion" they had scrambled.

It seemed people really had a thing about or rather against that technology around here. He desperately needed parts. The engines were workable but unstable. He was concerned that the slightest strain might tip them over the edge, and thus finish him and his search in a cloud of molecules.

By late afternoon he was tired and dehydrated from the heat and overwhelming sensations of the bustling activity. His winter fur, which had grown out on the journey from Lylat, was sticky with sweat. He was sure he'd been all over the market, getting lost more than once, but the parts he was searching for were nowhere to be found.

There was no trace of Kursed either, and it seemed that people feared that name as much as G-diffusors. He was met with shrugs and threats and anything in between, but he could tell that even the foreign races were lying. They were scared of her.

Finally he got a tip about some travellers from the distant system Arctos who had all sorts of technology, and he found that they were right next to where he had left his Arwing. Their ship was large, just as they were. The men, which he guessed they were, were at least seven feet tall, nearly as wide, and with thick fur all over their bodies, heads and faces. One of the bears was blond, nearly white, while the other was brown. And of course they spoke neither Lylatian nor Quango, so the negotiations were not going well.

"How's that translation going ROB," he called into the communicator on his wrist.

"In progress," answered ROB. "There are limited transmissions in Ursian to process."

Goodness, this was hopeless. Then he spotted a person in a monk's robe, who had stopped just a few paces away and was glaring at him. Those glares were a common theme today. From the persons figure it looked like a woman. Her long, untidy hair was a violent shade of violet, and was hanging down covering most of her face and spilling out of the hood. But he could still see an angry green eye surrounded by way too much black eyeliner. He wondered what he'd ever done to her, then turned his focus back to the negotiations.

"Are you sure that's the word for a G-diffusor, ROB?"

"With 75 percent certainty, but it could mean vibrator."

The big men were still just shaking their hairy heads and talking words he could not make sense of.

"Vad pratar han om?" said the blond bear.

"Ingen aning!" replied the brown one.

Then a strange feeling came over Fox. A feeling of not being welcome. He should go. It wasn't a sensation of dislike. It was hate. Loathing! He thanked the men for their time, or whatever his attempts at Ursian translated to, ran over to his Arwing and took off as fast as he dared.

As the ship climbed up through the atmosphere at mere subsonic speed, he could sit back and relax. What had happened to him? Was it a panic-attack, and if so what had brought it on? Was is just because he'd seen that woman.

It hit him like a bolt of lighting. Surely it couldn't be?

He engaged the autopilot and started downloading the recordings from his headset camera. He'd made a habit of having it turned on all the time, ever since his escape from the Cornerian Mountains. He patched it through to the Arwing's head-up display and started scanning back and forth. There were the men from Arctos and there was ... someone.

The hair was all messy and wrong, apart from that colour. The monk's robe hid any other clothes, apart from the feet of a pair of black leather boots, but it didn't quite hide the curves of a woman. The tip of a black staff could be seen over the woman's shoulder. The hood shaded most of the face, but it could be canine, lupine ... or vulpine! He tried to zoom in. There was something familiar about that green eye. It could be.

"ROB, have you recorded the feed from the Arwing's security cameras?"

"Affirmative."

"Can you please send it through to my display. Okay, it's coming through. Scan for any ship taking off. Nah, not that one! Fast forward. STOP!"

On his display there was the distinctive profile of the Cloud Runner, a battered and beaten-up old Cloud Runner, exiting a nearby hangar where it had been hidden.

"DAMMIT! That's her, ROB! Go back through the radar records. Scan comms channels. Do anything you can to find her. Please!"


Bruce the bartender of the Primordial Pub finished drying glasses and turned around. To his surprise that crazy purple-haired bounty hunter had appeared on a barstool. Déjà vu!

"Something strong," she said.

Bruce knew what she liked and poured her a glass.

"Bad day, eh?"

She nodded in reply. Her mind was buzzing and she needed something to calm it down. Things had turned bad when he pushed her away, and worse when he came back. She should just have shot him right there in the market, or skewered him on her staff. She had tried so hard to forget him, them and Star Wolf. Everything about Lylat just hurt too much, and she had tried to change everything that reminded her of it, including herself.

Suddenly she became aware that the hustle and bustle of the bar had quieted down a notch. There was a faint tingle in her mind and her blood froze.

"Krystal?"

Sh-t, he was behind her. She raised her glass and took a sip, staring at Bruce. Did he have something to do with this?

"Krystal?"

The voice was closer this time. She put her glass down.

"The one you call Krystal is gone," she replied without turning around.

"No, she's not!"

A mountain of muscle in a studded leather jacket and black shades appeared next to her.

"Is this man bothering you?" it said to her, waving a thumb in the general direction of something or someone behind her.

"Yeah, actually!" she said and gave it half a smile. Then she turned the other way.

"No, Krystal! Wait! Ouch! Hands off me you..."

She didn't even bother looking back as she walked off and the fight broke out.

"Yay, smash brawl!" was the last words she heard as she left the bar and the cacophony of breaking glass, crumbling furniture and blaster shots behind her. She walked back towards her Cloud Runner, head spinning yet forming no thoughts. She felt like she was a shell, a void. She just wanted to disappear into black space. She reached her ship, opened the canopy and was about to climb in, when the thuds from running feet interrupted her.

"Krystal!"

And still that voice. How was that possible?

"Kursed?"

She turned around slowly, and sure enough, a few paces away there was McCloud, out of breath with bruises and torn clothes, but still very much alive.


"Krystal!" Fox called after her as he was running to catch up. What should he do to get her attention? He didn't want to use that other name, but he was desperate.

"Kursed?" he pleaded and stopped a few paces away from her.

She turned around slowly, staring at him in disgust.

"I'm so sorry! I need your help," he continued.

Her face did not change. Sh-t, he'd gone over this moment so many times in his head, trying to work out how to say what he wanted to say, but now he was tongue-tied as usual.

"Corneria is in danger."

Still that stare. Slowly and demonstrably she pulled out a blaster with her right hand.

"Okay, as if you'd care. I understand. I really do! But a ship from Cerinia has arrived. They're your people! They're mining Corneria for resources, but they're destroying the planet in the process and they're hiding something. Their leader ... Kamuy ..."

He watched her closely. Didn't her expression just change a little bit? Was that name familiar to her? Was he getting through?

"Kamuy is a really powerful telepath," he continued. "I've tried to find out the truth myself and I've seen things, but I've also been under her mind control. I could really use your help!"

Still nothing apart from her thumb flicking a switch on the blaster back and forth.

"And if not, then Kamuy said she knows who you are. Maybe she can help you remember your past. I'd like to help you in any way I can. I'm telling the truth!"

He lowered his head and closed his eyes, waiting for her to read his thoughts, but he waited in vain. He looked up and saw her looking back at him in disbelief, like he was doing something strange.

"So you hate me that much, huh?" he said resigned, not even worthy of having his mind read. He'd expected as much, so he took a small device from out of his pocket and held it up. "Here's a memory unit with as much data and recordings as I could gather. Please watch it before you make up your mind. If you want to go to Corneria and see for yourself, I'll be happy to give you a ride in the Great Fox."

He threw her the memory unit, which she caught with her left hand, turning it over and studying it for a while with a puzzled look on her face. But then she just tossed it over her shoulder and raised her right hand, the one holding that blaster.

The last thing he saw was a flash of light.