***Note, please also check out my upload on AO3; I will be posting illustration for each chapter if that interests you.***
17 - Still The Bad Blood
The Wreath; North Tower Complex
Udeav Minor
Colonial Space
Mid-Morning
"Who are you, really?"
Jana blinked. The obtusely-asked question echoed off the two-story cathedral ceilings lofted far above the lounge. The floor-to-ceiling windows on the far end of the conference room didn't abate the dizzying doppler effect carried on the mole's spoken words, though they did provide a spectacular view to distract her from them. Udeav's yellow giant shone spectacularly just above the misty horizon, flanked by the fast-retreating green dot of Sade. The fogged sunrise was turning out to be a sunny, if windy, morning.
The short, hairless, shrivel-skinned mole who'd asked the question now lounged on a tan upholstered settee. He was smiling, though merely as a revolting facade. It was as if he was just trying to fill up the timeslot before moving to his next engagement.
He'd introduced himself as Percival Powell, but his titles and the ridiculous bejeweled bolo-tie he wore across his neck did some introduction of its own. Percy had called himself Vikr's 'Doer-in-chief,' before shaking hands. A weak shake for a man so consumed with the image of his machismo, all things considered.
Doer-in-Chief. Jana was nervous about his personality before the meeting had begun, but that comment nearly shifted her well-tuned fight-or-flight response into overdrive.
The nerves wore off quickly when they detailed compensation in the statement-of-work; a continuation of what she was already working on. For the Jean-Starkly family? She'd be an agent of revenge; returning Zeouna of Settler City dead or alive. For Jana? Silencing another one of Leinch's many unforced errors. Irritatingly habitual, to be sure, but lucrative.
The offered sum was astronomical. Jana could play poker, but there was no way to hide her delight when they'd passed over the service agreement. Her eyes saw stars and her mood improved considerably.
She shook her glass the bowl, her fingers wrapped loosely around the epicure. The vintage Fortunan wine the servants uncorked after the handshake and ink signing had likely helped alleviate her mood as well.
But, nevertheless, she was caught off guard by the Mole's forwardness. After business was concluded, the formal meeting had devolved to an impromptu social gathering; something Jana didn't enjoy. This prickliness was why.
"I'm sorry?" She asked as politely as possible.
"Describe yourself," he stated plainly, without hesitation.
"I'm Jana McCloud. I-"
Jana pondered, struggling to develop an answer to his question. She wasn't prepared for personal questions; in the years she'd been on the mercenary scene she'd never once been asked about who she was.
"Surely, you can describe yourself," the mole followed up skeptically, turning his head askew.
Frankly, she didn't actually know if she could, and the blank look on her face gave that away.
The other animal in the room cleared his throat as if to castigate his co-executive.
The talker, a snow-furred simian in a very well-tailored cobalt-blue suit. He had automatons and servants, yet the man was mixing his own beverage by the roll-away bar. The serving staff posted by the door tensed up, naturally cringing at the amateur mixologist's handling.
Jonny Hunyh, Jana was reminded; the social ambassador who'd invited her to the Wreath's reveal. She'd had a much easier time talking to him, though something was decidedly off about his forwardness. He was almost giddy to talk to her when he'd welcomed her and James at the landing pad.
"What my friend means here is," the simian corrected, uncouthly lofting up his martini glass by its stalk, "Tell us a little bit more about yourself. What makes Jana McCloud tick? What gets you up in the morning?"
They're paying you enough to be social, Jana. Improvise, moron, don't lock up!
"Of course," Jana exclaimed with a giggle, a little too nervously for her own liking.
She took a moment to compile an elevator pitch. She prayed the superb wine she'd nearly half-gulped down would aid its delivery. She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward.
"I make people meet justice. Anywhere, anytime. I'm not just good at it. I'm the best at it; and I don't do it for free or cheap. Job always gets done and I always do it right. S-"
"-wow!" Simian exploded with excitement, spilling a little of his homebrewed 'martini' mid-interruption. He made his way back to his seat.
Jonny walked with a cane, a shining chrome monobloc with a knurled bulb at the top. He click-clacked over to his own seat, looking like he barely needed the thing. He descended methodically, crossing the good leg in a manner that belied some rehearsal.
"I'm sorry this is still just so rad," he declared.
"Let the girl finish!"
It was strange. Jana'd had her fair share of professional admirers over the years; but this fully-grown man, Jonny, acted like he was meeting one of his childhood heroes. Jana was apt to let others make their own mistakes, but she felt more than a little embarrassed for the man.
"I'm sorry. I interrupted," he said, poise barely resuming over his elation. He sat back down, recognizing the scene his aggressive intolerance to alcohol was creating.
"As I was saying," Jana continued. "Star Fox specializes in counter-space and air threats, missile interdiction, killing planet-killers, some rescue missions, search-and-destroy, aliens, reconnaissance-"
She tilted her head and gave him the cocky side-smile she knew he wanted. The one she knew he needed; it was performance art she could tolerate for the money being thrown her way.
"And, of-course," She said with cunning, "Saving the Lylat system a couple times."
Sold. Jonny nearly wiggled with delight, exhale and self-satisfied smile emoting everything just short of an applause. His counterpart, the mole, merely grunted.
"More than a few times," Jonny added as a capstone to her pitch.
"And before you ask," Jana said in a teasing tone, "We don't do anything in deep space."
She gestured and rolled her eyes, reconsidering her last statement.
"Unless it's worth our while."
She nailed it, or so she thought.
"Yes," Percival acknowledged with some degree of langour. "But, what about you?"
The mole had asked it in possibly the harshest tone she'd heard today. Pure unimpressed boredom. Percival had already made her uncomfortable, and she wanted to be far away from him; but Jana credited him with at least being impossible to flatter.
"I," she struggled. "Uh-"
She forged a confused smile as she scrambled for the words. But, nothing came fast enough to stop the mole's malicious curiosity.
"Anyone waiting for you at home?" Percy marched on.
This was finally a bridge too far for Jana, and she tensed up to full sitting height.
"No?" She replied quizzically, unsure of the 'correct' answer he was looking for. Her eyes squinted in suspicion; this was still Jana McCloud after all. For all her self-social foibles, she was still firmly in control.
Her disbelieving response echoed tense embarrassment throughout Jonny's office. The most awkward of silences. Even the aide cleaning up breakfast in the corner winced.
Percival Powell wasn't done, however.
"No fiance?"
"No," she replied tersely.
"Kids?"
"No," Jana replied even more tersely.
Jonny glared at his co-executive with shame and panic. Percival didn't notice, and he certainly didn't break eye-contact with Jana. Jana wasn't sure if it was the liquor that made him patriarchal or if it was just his personality. He was taking mental notes; as if her family life was relevant, and he did not look pleased with her answers.
"Any hobbies?" the cream-colored simian blurted to cover up the awkward exchange. He laughed to cover up the shame.
Jana squirmed in her seat, but she welcomed the change in conversation. It was still intrusive, but she preferred it to more personal questions.
"Hobbies?" Jana blinked, unused to talking about herself in such frivolous ways.
"Hunting. Fishing," she started. "Gin, and-"
She hesitated, holding back what she wanted to say for a moment; but perhaps feeling emboldened by her previous sheepishness, dove in.
"I used to sing," she admitted awkwardly.
"Used to?" Jonny asked, uncrossing his legs gesturing entrancement. He leaned forward, genuinely gawking at his hired gun while resting his face in his slender, white hands.
"Yeah," she blushed under her fur, "Not a lot of time out in the field to practice."
She said all this, remembering all the young hours spent in her room having her tablet's VI run through scales with her. She stared at the floor. Knowing she had been modest.
Jonny took his own time to collect himself. It looked to Jana that he was processing this as some sort of unnecessary variable; something he'd never expected. She didn't hold it against him.
"I'd like to hear your voice sometime," Jonny said, attempting some variation of suaveness. Not that it would ever work on her. "I guess musical talent just runs in the family," he continued.
"No,"Jana laughed, "Just hard work and good timing."
Talent. Jana thought with amusement. Mom's obsessive insistence, more like. I was never a natural like Jimmy. I had to work for it.
Jana thought all animals could be judged through simple eye-contact. Like windows to the soul. And when she really looked at him, she expected to see avarice, lust or something hideous reflected back. But, for Jonny Huynh, there was nothing other than a genuine curiosity behind them.
"Maybe one day," she lied, embarassed by how much she used to enjoy it.
"Well. I'd like to hear it. For real."
"-well, I."
He held out his hand, blocking any type of response from Jana.
"I get it. Money talks," He acknowledged. "How about this: If you send me a song in the next six-months, have a VI or your brother mix-it-up, and I'll throw in another million creds."
Jana smiled. She wasn't interested, but the man's money was charming enough. She feigned fascination with the request; not entirely sure he was serious.
"How about I send a recording over with the invoice?" Jana teased.
He raised his glass, acknowledging his challenge. Infatuation. His physical response said it all.
The Wreath; Enroute to East Tower Complex
Udeav Minor
Colonial Space
Mid-Morning
The ten-second younger McCloud twin had lost herself in wonder as she peered out the maglev tram's windows.
As for James, he was more interested in his sister's improved mood. It had been years since he'd seen her smile for more than a small moment.
Now, whisking away from North hept's management-class luxury, they were headed out to the rougher decks out East. Uncharacteristically, it would be James skipping the party tonight.
The tram was mostly empty as they zipped on across the outer edge of the top decking. Peering out over the edge, they witnessed the gray white-foamed breakers pelt the side of the Wreath's aluminum hull below.
Jana's imagination had always been captivated by the seas of Lylat, and the exotic seas of colonies held special allure to her. While space may have been the final frontier, it was a lifeless and cold one to be sure. Seas, according to Jana, were a rejection of the monotonous void. Every drop of seawater had trace elements of life in it. Memories trapped in molecules, traversed by beautiful and sometimes frightening creatures.
James knew that space may have been where his sister lived most of her life, but Jana felt her heart was wherever there were waves and salt air. By contrast, James was more of a late-night coffee and delicatessen kind of animal; a scene left behind in the colonies.
Truly, James McCloud just wanted to return to the Dot. He was tired, cranky, and his routine was way off-schedule.
Jana must have thought seeing the Wreath up close could change that, but all it did was further irritate the pop-star transplant.
The Wreath was an absolute colossus. An impressive beast, just as they said it would be. The heptagonal excavation had looked large enough during the duo's atmospheric entry; but upclose, it was astonishing to behold.
They weren't floating, so the provided reading material repeated ad nauseum. The seven-sided tub was bolted and molded directly to Udeav Minor's silicate crust. The top-most sides summited the water line by two-hundred meters rise over sea level, and a fifteen-hundred deep below. Its steel and aluminum hulls maintained a clear airway directly to the rocky, ancient surface.
The Wreath. The name didn't sit right with James. Calling this monstrosity such a gentle term was an achievement of understatement in its own right. An attempt to launder peacemaker symbolism into oppression.
Two dueling seas on Udeav wrestling for supremacy. The aptly, if bluntly named, Northern and Southern seas; each jammed in their own poles by an astrally traumatic event in Udeav Minor's distant past. The Wreath was supposed to unify their flow, reducing the caustic erosion created by their saline intrusion on the underground reservoirs of freshwater.
To the layman, it was a hole in the ocean dug straight through the seafloor. More scientifically, it was a desalination, treatment and flow control valve for seeding arable groundwater to more "beneficial" routes.
They'd imposed a beating heart on the planet's water supply. Pumping it where they felt. A solution to a problem no one had asked for.
James' wasn't Wreath would charitably protect groundwater all the way through the equatorial desert, but not for the Udeavan's sake. At some point the waters met and commingled in a predictable pattern. The scope of Vikr's 'charity' would centralize freshwater. Village well's would dry up one day, thirsty villagers could be corralled into company towns. Company towns could be patrolled more easily.
The tram slowed, alerting the duo that they were nearing their next destination.
This isn't an olive branch, James surmised, It's subjugation.
Before they knew it, there was a series of gentle rings and the doors hissed open.
Jana leapt off the tram, the gray painted, textured aluminum decking clanged as her alloy boots carried her to the side of the inner edge's fence. On the other side of the chasm, the pair were able to just barely see the two-hundred meter southern tower's top. Fifteen klicks out, and it was remarkably clear for the breezy, gray skies present today.
James knew his sister had been nervous for their business trip. He knew because he'd last left her numbing herself on watered down pig-whiskey while she'd been studying terrain with ROB all night. Avoidance. Sociality, civility and pretending not to be a proper meat-eater weren't part of her usual repertoire.
He pictured it. It would have gone like this: Between sips, she'd study the frigid, mountainous south. She'd put herself in that bitch Zeouna's boots. Jana would always start in the worst places first; the ice melt-fed bogs, the waterless desert. In the planet's middle, she'd probably plan through the major cave systems and the majestic basalt bluffs. Anything but a good night's sober rest or adjusting normal coping skills. Anything but that.
Not that James' evening had been any less enhanced. Though his was spent tuning through his music VI's latest proposed samples and inhaling copious grams of Class D misdemeanors that ROB's legal coding pretended not to know about.
James chortled to himself, garnering his sister's confused attention.
It took her a few seconds, but she smiled at him. Still intoxicated by the credits in the air. James always marveled at what they'd become. Polar opposites.
Today, the rift between them seemed a little less steep. Jana's mood had reversed, indicating the meeting had gone well enough based on her happy-go-lucky demeanor.
She had told him Jonny Huynh had been charming; a feature his sister usually resented.
In their case, the charm and indeed most of the social lubricant used was a fortune and an upfront payment. He'd offered them an obscene amount of money for ongoing services on retainer. A six-month base deal made even sweeter with some bonus negotiations. She insisted she didn't fully trust the man. But, when she was being honest, she'd never really trusted anyone paying her until the checks cleared. Just business for her.
With a sharp turn off the tramway, Jana led on. She oriented herself to the chainlink entrance to the east compound.
"Is this the only way to the reception?" James asked, eyeing the KEI industries warning sign on the gate. His twin had noticed it too.
James had shown up only to represent his stake of ownership in the team; he hadn't come for a fight. It was wiser to leave early, and without incident, but Jana wanted to linger about these parts for some reason.
I don't need her killing anyone today. James lamented, only half joking.
"We can go around, Jana," he offered.
She delayed and exhaled.
"Probably should, yeah," She answered, indicating she'd declined his rational suggestion. James' nerves heightened.
"We're not going to, though, are we?"
"Shortest route," his sister stated cockily, leading him to the gate. "Just keep moving. And, don't say a word."
The Security VI recognized their presence as they approached, and the gates swung wide and the last McClouds swaggered through together.
A few beats down the serviceway indicated the Eastern wall was a very different place than North Hept.
The pathways were featureless; and the fog lighting scanter and more industrial. The surface compounds weren't much more than cheaply acquired prefabricated barracks, armories and storage facilities atop the eastern hangars. It was the staging area of Vikr's own security sections, as well as their hired cortège of war criminals: KEI, who were housed in a three story block on the highest level of the central, dagger-like tower. The same tower Jana was dissecting with her eyes.
They passed through what was a pitiful attempt to build a courtyard. Imported red-brick and a pretty, but invasive, species of shrubs from Fortuna. No one was maintaining it. On the other end of the turfless yard, James could make out that this was a housing block for the notorious mercenaries. Though, It looks more like a prison.
KEI's livery was always the same. Their logo was a black isosceles triangle, embossed with the titular lettering outlined in whitespace and two black daggers crossed in the foreground. Jana's emotional outburst had haunted James, so he'd asked ROB to help him uncover some background on KEI.
Krebs, Engelmann, and Inanna. He remembered. Long dead owners. The contractor had been 'respectable' once; over eighty years ago. They'd chosen sides during the Lylat Wars; the wrong one. They were bought out by the Ljón family dynasty to protect their mineral claims in Macbethian neutral space. A lawless place filled with shallow graves.
James noted two gunships with the same markings parked on landing pads. The slender, angular craft were Victor-One-Nineteens if his memory was correct. Fourteen meters long. With forward swept wings that folded upward for landing. A terrestrial death machine for striking hard-targets. There were copious streaks of carbon scoring on the fuselage emitted from its winglet rocket launchers; a symbolic history of violence carved into the hull. The fuses to the guided rockets were still visible, ready to be dispensed on a moment's notice. Nasty business, James thought. Fueled-up and ready to kill.
The McCloud's weren't alone. WTones shifted on deck, as heads began to turn as some of the crimson-adorned security detail noticed the infamous woman and her plus-one walking through their midst. Some gawked with unabashed awe, others tried hiding their concern through quick glances. It wasn't many meters later before James' heard jovial conversations coming to serious halts.
James knew the armored KEI Footsoldier called themselves 'hunters." They were bonafide corporate enforcers, maybe the last of their kind. They were typically recruited from the pirate classes out in the colonies or the far-too-numerous federation military veterans with more money-grubbing instincts than morals. They could be called 'mercenaries' only in the most strictly legal terms; their conduct was atrocious as was their discipline.
All kit, no clue, like Jana used to say. The Hunter's chosen brands of armor and armament weren't standardized, only the color. And, they all wore red. The same red luster Jana. James noted, piecing together previously unknown corners of his sister's past. She was one of them, like I suspected. Probably placed undercover by the ISS, or something.
The two began to pass the ivory-white facade of KEI's headquarters. The rolling fog obscured every floor above the third storey. It seemed Percival Powell's construction teams had applied a clean, white-stucco exterior over the metallic surface of an office complex; perhaps for cooling effect. It was garish, and conflicted with the novel knife-like shape of the building.
Jana wasn't looking. She kept her eyes locked forward and her arms swinging as she stepped past it.
She walked until she heard a wolf-whistle. James swung his head in search of the reckless suitor.
A cat-call, actually.
Teeth. Stark white incisors grinning widely on a bluish-black face. A Panther, yellow eyes and a scant streak of silver hairs glimmering under each eye. She tied her purplish hair behind her head in a knot. She stood, cross-armed and leaning over the railing of the wrap-around decking.
Liana Caruso, James suspected.
Just as James had noticed during their cage match, she wore the same Armor as Jana's. An extremely limited run Space Dynamics combat hardsuit complete with an exoskeletal assistance, plates of nano-reactive steel on the bust and the same flexible carbon weave on joints. It was matte red, and hardly reflected any light. A product that James knew was made by the dozen; Slippy had seen to it. Top-of-the-line.
Neither said anything. Both were entranced with each other.
Jana faced toward her former beau, an uncharacteristic display of consternation suspended upon her face. They stared at each other, displaying a vast array of emotions they didn't fully know how to express. Shriveled and tensed for the initial veil of skepticism, then relaxed as they both remembered something fond. Jana's ears twitched; the cat's whiskers did the same as her nostrils flared. Green Iris met yellow as their eye's grappled for the right effect on the other's. Jana wasn't herself, and they both looked as though they wanted the first word.
Liana hinged a grin on her muzzle for a second, a preamble to first strike. Jana almost blurted something witty before someone else did.
"I can't believe it." a pleasant-sounding voice remarked. It was masculine, cheery and left no vowel unsoftened. "Six years. Six years and still workin' alone."
Whomever it was, his voice was acoustic poison for Jana. She froze solid on the tarmac. It was as if her blood boiled away and left a statue behind. Her head, neck, arms and legs shuddered to a trembling halt. She was Immobilized; paralyzed for a couple seconds. Dilated pupils and short, shallow breaths arrived soon after.
James noted the shadow the man cast was massive, it seemed like an eternity as his peered further upward toward the hulking pillar of a Felid. A rare subspecies too. A lion with a great golden mane adorned in what James' thought was likely the largest set of armor in the greater known galaxy.
Anders Ljōn; James knew at this moment. A heaving, towering cat. And, no, these weren't features James was admiring. For once.
The gigantic cat stepped down the small staircase in front of his gauche home, his feet making them look comically smaller with each step. James swore he saw them buckle a bit under the Lion's tremendous weight.
"Look at you," his lyrical accent continued. He shot his head back at Liana, "Look at her!"
He mimed a camera's lens with his hands and fingers, squarely placing the shivering Jana McCloud as his central subject.
"Haven't aged a day, lass. Just the way I remember you."
Jana was about to go off. Her hands tensed up by reflex as James watched her pistol belt closely. James' by contrast, still didn't fully grasp the situation. He emitted a nervous laugh and shuffled about awkwardly.
Ander's only laughed. It wasn't mocking at all.; it was warm. Nostalgic. The kind of laugh shared with an old friend you met unexpectedly on the evening C-tram. Routine warmth.
He lurched a hair closer.
"I heard you're still wearing red."
"Because It's my color. Not yours," Jana finally gritted through her teeth.
"Yours?" The great cat asked, "I can't believe you're still sore 'bout tings."
He seemed genuine enough to James. But, James stood by his sister, never doubting her judgment for a second.
"I think it's guilty conscience," He mused. "If you've come to make up. And, if you beg nice enough. I might consider it."
Liana was clearly ashamed, and slunk lower on the fencing. A relationship of convenience. James surmised.
His sister's rapid-eyes searched wildly, planning an exit. Any exit. Seemingly studying everything but the man in front of her.
And that's when Ander's looked at James.
"I presume this is brother James, right?"
The lion's beady eyes met James' own. Soulless, empty, black irises amid red, fleshy frames.
At this moment, James felt his dread. Every emotion he'd absorbed off Jana about this cat suddenly made sense. He knew nothing about Ander's, but the mystery no longer perplexed him. It was as if the whole of Ander's evil exceeded the sum of its very palpable parts. A primordial terror barely contained under his muscle, skin and fur. The dead eyes, the mechanical movements. It all washed over James as quickly as this brain's synapses could carry them.
There was something profoundly wrong with Anders Ljón; something that made his size, claws, resources and weaponry the least concerning parts of him. This sharpened Jana up.
"That's none of your concern!" She barked at him, adrenaline lending her its edge to defend her twin.
Unburdened or uncommitted to the stability of any one mood, a sudden loathing took over the lion. He frowned before exclaiming harshly.
"I want to hear it from him!"
James stepped forward, furious at Anders. His urbane ego pushed well-passed his tipping point.
"You aren't special. Most people recognize me," Fox McCloud's lookalike said, "I'm James McCloud."
James leaned in indignation. "Should I have heard of you?"
"You should have," The lion replied immediately with some amusement, "But, I doubt you have."
He didn't find as easy a mark with James. More likely, he didn't take him seriously. So, the Ljón aimed his ire back at jana.
"And that saddens me, Jana," He said, a sick smile on his face.
"Don't you remember?" He asked, leaning closer to her. "How good of a team were we?"
Jana spit in his direction, though the wind took it just shy of his boots.
"Didn't leave much of a team left, did I?"
The rebuke It hit like a sledgehammer.
"Really?!" He fumed back. "After all these years? Still the bad blood?"
Whatever he was actually feeling, Ander's chose to wear sympathy as a mask.
"For years, I'd hoped we could fix things."
He let out a confused chortle in genuine befuddlement.
"Was it really all that bad? It was just little foolin'."
He took a gentle series of steps toward McClouds, the convenient shroud of pity still hoisted on his face.
"I gave you everything you wanted."
He finally stopped. One arm-length away from Jana, he was over half-a-meter taller with his shoulder's slunk.
"I know you enjoyed it," he consoled. "I know you did. And we made so much money together."
"There is always a home for you."
The felid extended his arm and laid his hand gently on Jana's shoulder. A shepard calling her back to his fold.
"With me."
It was too far, the fuse ignited. Jana went electric with rage, swiping his hand off of her with her own. Jana's left hand was already on her pistol, pulsed and ready to draw. She almost held it together.
"I will fucking END YOU!"
Her echoing promise reverberated as she screamed it. A vocal projection that reverberated through the compound. She squared off for the kill as James' moved in between the pair.
"Oh?" The lion chuckled, having finally gotten the reaction he'd initially wanted. "What's stopping you then?"
Jana did what she always did. James had seen it before. She found her courage and fought on. What good would fear do?
She calmed. Finally. Her trigger finger saddling the custom-milled flat trigger on her blaster pistol. Jana grinned a toothy grin of her own.
"One-hundred fifty-eight million reasons."
It made sense to James that she'd smirked when saying it. The figure had landed on the Lion's ears like a heavy cruiser's barrage. Anders heard the numbers and flinched.
He emitted a long whistle. Appreciation or jealousy, that astronomical figure was destined for a team one fiftieth the size his own. It was embarrassing for him.
"Well, that's me told!"
"But still. I can see. Even with all that money. You are torn."
He was teasing again. Unwisely. He put his massive hands on the stippled grip of his own pistol, a ballistic handgun.
"Take the creds or take that shot?" He asked rhetorically. "Which do you pick? Worth losing the payout?"
"Give me a reason, Anders," She retorted. "Give me a bloody reason!"
It must have been nearly worth it to her. James saw several waves of consideration pale over her face.
"Go ahead, Jana. Everyone knows you are faster."
He looked at James again.
"Two shots in my head before I even got it out of my belt, I bet."
"Just like, what was her name?" Anders asked, gesturing with his hand. He giggled before asking in a more serious tone.
"What was her name, Liana?"
Liana knew. They all knew except James. It was clear from where James was standing that she didn't want to be involved.
The lion turned his eyes angrily toward his jet-black lieutenant, who shook her head again. It wasn't something she could wisely refuse, she was being compelled to speak. She locked her yellow eyes on Jana's and recalled aloud.
"Ossa," she spoke. "Her name was Ossa."
The Lion yipped.
"Oz!" He said with jubilee. "That's right."
Jana retreated to a hardened shell. From where here James stood it looked like she was shivering with anger.
"It's coming, Anders," his twin said with cold calculation, "One day. Soon."
"You'll see me. I'll be the last thing you ever see before the floor falls out beneath you. I'll make sure of it."
Ander's chuckled. The nostalgia back in his mind.
"Look at ya'," he noted. "No sense of fun. Here I was hoping we could be friends again, but you haven't changed at all."
"You little Vulli cunt."
The species-slur didn't even register in James' ear for a moment, it was that old-world
Jana wasn't so shocked.
"It's only a matter of time before you put yourself back on the naughty list, Anders," she said confidently. "And I'll be the one to cross you off."
He wrinkled his nose and inhaled. His eyes barely shifted, but he finally met his match.
"Then I guess we know how this ends."
"Keep your eyes open," Jana threatened, turning her back to Anders. "I wouldn't want you to miss it."
Jana shared a final, hurt glance at Liana and resumed her furious march through the upper barracks. James followed.
"I'll see you at the party!" Anders shouted at them, hands cupped around his mouth.
Neither of the McClouds bothered to look back.
A few minutes later, Jana realized that the lion had been right.
It had taken every ounce of Jana's strength not to ventilate Ander's skull on the spot. She wasn't ashamed to admit it to herself, and fortunately, James knew better than to ask.
One-hundred fifty-eight million, not including expenses, was in excess of what she anticipated. Doubled with the ISS' side-hustle, a total payout of over three-hundred million credits; slightly larger than the Lylat Wars haul that sustained the original Star Fox team for nearly twenty years!
The two exitted the last section of Vikr-provided housing before the secondary lift. Near the end of their desired gantryway, a small crowd of Vikrmen and their more 'elite' hunter masters, had assembled.
One of them stood boldly in front of the sliding steel storm-doors, the service lift that would take her brother back to his ships. She flashed her prox card, paying the thug no mind.
Jana had decided to stay. Why not? She thought to herself as the DNA-sequencer and badge reader pinged green, they'd been so generous so far. The drinks are free and the food is good. Why not embibe?
The hunter didn't move.
A bold one. Another Shepard Canid, they always seemed to be! The red-armored dolt had probably seen the almost-altercation outside his chiefs home and was looking to get a rise out of the woman who accosted his boss. Easy promotion, brownie points with the boss.
He uncrossed his arms and stretched his neck as the lift thundered up from the depths.
"You lost?" He chuffed at Jana, puffing out his chest in an attempt to block entry. The group of Vikrmen began to whisper and chuckle with what was surely more interesting than the menial maintenance tasks they were given.
"No," Jana said immediately and matter-of-factly. "You've got one chance to move. Be quick about it."
She didn't reach for her gun. A mercy she rarely exercised for this level of obstinance. She heard James sigh with relief. He should know better.
Unkempt. Young. Right handed, weapon on his blaster. Probably a quick draw, up and to the left.
The offending hunter barely got two syllables out.
"Or wh-?"
With a flick and a swipe, she produced a concealed blade from her sleeve. She didn't even wait for him to finish before slicing open his face from neck to forehead. Couple millimeters deep. She'd been merciful enough to avoid injuring his eye, but the split muzzle and lips were going to hurt for a long time. She released him.
To the whelp's credit, he attempted a defensive jab before being swept aside by a haymaker Jana had been holding in reserve.
Before the group knew it, the lowly Shepard was on his knees yelping and screaming in anguish. He clutched his neck, probably thinking he had been mortally wounded. He certainly could have been, had Jana intended it.
In agonized imprecision he reached for his pistol and found only air in the holster. A feeling that might as well have been Jana's signature.
Jana held onto his weapon from its cold barrel in her left hand.
"Don't draw on someone that close," she advised him, removing the charge pack from the pistol's magazine well. She depressed the de-charge catch and the weapon hissed safe. A teachable moment.
"Or do," she mocked. "What do I care?"
She tossed the weapon at his feet, the aluminum decking also receiving copious drops of his blood.
She pressed him over rather gently; the tip of her left boot connecting with the side of his head. He thudded on the concrete, silently writhing in pain as shock took over. Lesson learned.
With a look over her shoulder at her brother, Jana pierced through the throng. James turned and backpedaled for a few steps past the hunter, overwhelmed with the speed and violence of what just occurred. Jana entered the newly arrived lift, unmolested by the crowd of ordinary Vikrmen who suddenly gave her a wide, respectful berth.
They were silent, even as the doors to the lift sealed shut. The twins stood side-by-side as their descent began.
"You okay?" James asked, waiting a moment for the adrenaline to fade.
The self-satisfied smirk gradually disappeared off Jana's face as lift descended. She flicked her knife clean, eventually placing it back in her concealed pocket.
James never broke eye contact, his silent concern tracking her the whole while. Jana wished to herself that he'd just go away.
"Not a word," Jana instructed. James heeded the warning with a gulp.
Several long seconds passed. Seconds that likely felt like minutes toJames. But, he did as he was told.
He's going to ask questions. Jana's center reminded her through the elevator's dull hum. He's going to ask, and he's never going to shut-up about it. I don't need this weight on me.
"We worked together," Jana blurted. "Anders and I. Six years ago."
"And?" He motioned for more. "You can always trust me-"
"-I said, not a word!" She barked.
Several longer seconds passed. Stops occurred, passengers embarked and disembarked. Their cargo as well. The floors whooshed by. Jana knew her brother's silence wouldn't last for long, and neither would her patience.
They were alone again when she decided to close the matter out.
Jana's arms suddenly uncrossed as she let out the longest exhaled James had ever heard. She activated her wrist PDA, which projected itself as a red arrow toward the lift controls, which received it's injected instructions eagerly. Her VI Lockpick; the toolkit of a professional.
Everything stopped. The lift grinded and cranked to a halt between floors as the lighting dimmed and finally gave out. Even the aircon cut out. The pale orange of the emergency lighting was all that left. Just the McCloud twins locked in together with their problems.
With the distractions gone, she leaned against the already-rusting steel wall. She waited for him to do the same. He obliged, taking up the corner across from her.
"I did a job with KEI," she confessed. "Titania. A clearing operation."
"A bad one?" He asked gently.
Jimmy looked at her with compassion, but all she felt was shame. She thought about how to sort it.
"It didn't end well for them."
Please don't ask what I think you are about to. Jana thought, knowing her brother's empathetic urges. He stewed, absorbing what little she'd said. Regrettably, he'd always been a good listener.
"What about you?" He asked softly.
She laughed, but nothing about it was funny. Nothing about the memory was pleasant.
"I'm here. I'm alive," she replied in understatement. "What do you think that means?"
"It got complicated?"
Jana tensed up again.
"'Complicated' is a word you might use to describe that open relationship you had with your stylist," Jana chastised. "Not an atrocity."
"What happened?" He asked.
Jana started shaking again, but she was in control this time.
"You don't need to hear about it."
He looked defeated, he stepped forward. Always offering a hand.
"But, I want to. What did he make you do?"
"Nothing," Jana lied.
Her brother didn't believe it. Not for a second. A sudden rage took him as his face contorted under the dimmed orange light.
"Did he hurt you?"
His moral calculus was so simple.
"Stop," Jana said, tone indicating the ridiculousness of his question. "James."
"He didn't make me do anything."