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Mission No. 19

Sector V
Bolse Station Fallout

"The Tatters"

Σ-β

Fox piloted the Arwing out of the rancid Venomian atmosphere, making a beeline straight for the nearby Sector V. The Cornerians didn't even know what hit them; they barely had time to scramble their fighters before Fox disappeared into the dense, amethyst nebula.

The ionized space dust provided the perfect cover for his escape. Any lead his pursuers had would quickly vanish as he dove dangerously deep into the stew of magnetic storms and radiation. You couldn't find anything in the sector unless you knew precisely what you were looking for, and Fox had disabled the tracking feature on his carrier ship, meaning only he knew the coordinates at which it sat. Barring a brute force search with the entire Venomian occupation fleet, he knew the Great Fox would be safe.

Fox looked down, squirming slightly beneath the weight of his passenger. Krystal the Cerinian lay snuggly against his chest, unconscious. He watched as the violet lights of the nebula raced over her, dancing across her blue fur and sparkling in her shimmering dress. Her mouth hung open slightly, drooling on his suit; her chest rose and fell as she faintly breathed. If he wasn't so deathly afraid of her again, the sight would've been beautiful…

Fox tried everything in his power to keep from waking her up. He kept his breaths shallow, only gently nudged the flight stick when required, and avoided shifting even an inch. It was a good thing Krystal was unconscious for the ride back, or Fox wouldn't know what to do. He didn't normally get claustrophobic like this, but he felt anxious being trapped in a cramped cockpit with a psychic alien—especially one who could tear him limb-from-limb.

A shadow loomed in the distance, drifting out of the aether. As they approached it materialized into the proud hull of the Great Fox: the dreadnought-class battlecruiser his father used for Star Fox's mothership. While ridiculously-oversized for their small crew, it proved indispensable in battle, single-handedly smashing through more than one line of Venomian defenses. He hated to admit it, but he felt good now that Star Fox had paid off their loan on the vessel, even if he didn't like Peppy's motivations or means…

ROB identified his Arwing's signature and opened the hangar doors, allowing Fox to cruise inside and land back in his launch catapult. The jolts from docking caused Krystal to stir, so Fox hastily popped the canopy. Gingerly he lifted the vixen out of the cockpit and laid her on the catwalk in a heap. She groaned when her cheek met the cold floor, and Fox lurched back instinctively. As she awoke, he retreated to a nearby supply crate and crouched atop it. Just in case, he put a hand on his blaster, not sure what to expect.

Krystal sat up and clutched her head, moaning. She blinked her eyes open, staring down at her ruined dress. The once spotless blue garment was now torn in many places, stained with mud, and eaten through by acid. It was hardly more than a few filthy shreds clinging to her thin frame. She looked forlornly at it, mourning its fate.

Then she looked up, realizing she was in a strange, new location. Her head swiveled back-and-forth, desperately searching the hangar.

"Foxsu?!" she called, not realizing where he sat.

The fact that she called for him first moved something in Fox's heart, but the rest of him felt rooted in place, refusing to budge from safety.

"What happened down there?" he asked quietly, trying to remain calm.

Her ears pricked at the sound of his voice, and her head swung around to face him. At once her eyes lit up, and she smiled in relief. "Foxsu!"—But the excited expression slipped from her face when she noticed him sitting far away, crouching like a gargoyle with his hand on his gun.

'Fox, what's wrong?'

"What did you do down there?" he repeated.

'Wh-what do you mean?'

"One moment that spider mech had my ship pinned. The next it was suspended midair—all one hundred tons if it. I know you had something to do with it."

Her eyes widened; she shook her head vigorously. 'I don't know what you're talking about! That wasn't me. Do you really think I could do something like that? Th-that's ridiculous—!"

"Don't play games with me!" he finally snapped, hands shaking in fear. "Not anymore. I know you did it. I'm having trouble believing it myself, but I saw it with my own eyes. You were focused on the mech when it levitated. I've seen you get pissed at me before, but I've never seen that look in your eyes!"

The vixen's lip trembled, but eventually she nodded. 'Alright… it was me. I did it—but only because I had to! If I didn't, we wouldn't have escaped. You said so yourself!'

Fox waved his hand dismissively. "Well, I'm not mad at you for doing it; after all, you saved us. But that doesn't change the fact that you lied to me. Again. You concealed your power from me. If I had to guess, that wasn't the first time I saw you use your 'powers', either. In fact, everything I didn't understand before is beginning to make sense now. There was that time with the other Cerinian, when she nearly choked me until you intervened. In the wasteland, you made me hear something that wasn't there. You made that drone explode when it chased us, and you knocked out that Venomian—nearly twice your size—when he threatened you!"

'Yes, yes I did those things. But—'

"Just how strong are you?" Fox asked, brow furrowing. "Could you kill me right now if you wanted to? If I didn't do what you asked? Would you pick me up and toss me out that energy field into space, or cast me to the deck down below? Would you tear me limb-from-limb if I pushed you far enough?"

'No! I'd never—'

"But could you? …You really are like that other Cerinian, aren't you?"

'No, I'm not! I'm not like her. I-I have control over my powers! I'm not a monster, I've never killed anyone. You have to believe me!'

Fox's eyes narrowed, feeling like he was being played for a fool once again.

"Why should I believe you? You've lied to me about everything else. You hid that you spoke Venomian, you hid that you were experimented on, you hid that you could read minds, and you hid your powers from me at every turn. Why should I think you're telling the truth after all that?" He clenched the blaster tighter in his hands. "Both Bill and de Pon warned me about you."

Krystal's eyes began to tremble, turning glassy. 'You don't understand—I couldn't tell you."

"What do you mean? You could've gotten us out of so many situations if you just used your powers sooner, but you hid them from me."

She closed her eyes, face contorting in anguish. When she opened them again, she looked at him and clasped her hands. 'Please,' she thought, 'please don't make me use my powers. Not like them. Don't force me to. I'll do anything else for you, but don't make me use them.'

Fox blinked, taken aback. "Wh-what are you talking about?"

'Everyone wanted me to. That's all they ever did—tried to get me to use them. It's all the Venomians wanted from me, and all they said I was good for.'

The todd swallowed, a lump forming in his throat. He was still a little scared of her; he still felt his trust in her was betrayed, and he needed her to know that, but… not like this.

He shifted, leaning forward and dropping his defensive posture. "Krystal… Krystal relax. I have no intention of using you like that. The last thing I want to be is like 'them'. But I need to be able to trust you. I need to know you won't lash out and hurt me like that other Cerinian, even if it's on accident."

She sniffed, tears welling in her eyes.

'Then, I'll prove it. I'd never hurt you, Fox. No matter how far you push me, or what you do to me, I won't fight back. I… I have complete control.'

She sat up straight, closing her eyes and holding her hands at her sides.

'I understand I've lied before, and you should have no reason to believe me now. But I swear I won't hurt you, no matter what. If you doubt me, test me. Starve me, hurt me, do anything you want. I'll prove I can hold my powers back through it all. I've done it before; I didn't give them what they wanted. Just… don't make me leave.'

Krystal's thoughts went silent in his head. Fox stared at her for a time, realizing she was surrendering herself to him to prove a point. But how far would she go? Was she really safe to push like that?

Hesitantly, Fox got up from his seat and crept over. His heart pumped faster every second, but he still forced himself to approach. Kneeling down in front of her, he placed a shaking hand on her dress's shoulder strap, which had slipped down her arm.

The vixen flinched, her breathing becoming faster, but she didn't otherwise react. She just sat as still as a statue, not fighting him—but from the blood he felt racing beneath her arm, she anxiously awaited his next move. A tear managed to escape her eye.

The trembling in Fox's paw suddenly stopped: all the fear gone. He raised the shoulder strap back into place, fixing her dress.

"I believe you, Krystal."

Her eyes flashed open and she gasped in relief. She set to work wiping the tears from her cheeks.

'Then please, please let me stay. At least until you can get me far away from here. Far away from… everyone that's chasing me. I don't care if you lock me up in a cell, or put me to sleep for the voyage like they do, as long as you take me away from here.'

He grabbed her shoulders reassuringly. "Don't say things like that! You may have frightened me back there, but you haven't hurt me yet, even though you could have at any point—especially when I dragged you all the way to Ambrosia. I… I trust you."

She smiled at him through the tears, drying her eyes sheepishly.

"But if you want to stay on my ship," he continued, raising a finger, "you need to be honest with me and not hide things anymore. No more lies, no more concealing things. You need to trust me as well, okay?"

Her wrist came away damp. 'Then, can I trust you not to return me?'

"I'm certainly not letting you go back there. But at the same time… I don't know what to do with you yet," he admitted.

Her ears flattened, but she looked up at him hopefully. 'Then, can I at least stay here while you figure it out?'

Fox smiled, then helped her stand up with him. "Of course you can stay. Maybe I'll give you a little tour of the ship. But first we need to get our wounds checked out. It's a miracle neither of us died back there, but that planet has a way of leaving venom in the wound…"

Fox took Krystal straight to the med bay, where another ROB shell was waiting in hibernation. This particular unit was outfitted with medical tools, setting him apart from the rest of the ROBs. Falco had even dressed him up with a nurse's smock and crude lipstick for added effect. They lovingly dubbed him "Nurse ROB", and were glad to be in his care whenever they returned bruised and bleeding from battle.

When they entered the infirmary and Fox switched on the lights, Nurse ROB's sleeping form suddenly whirred to life again.

"Welcome back Fox. I see you came back in one piece this time."

"Yeah, mostly."

ROB's head swiveled towards the girl.

"Ah," he deadpanned, "I see you brought home another one."

Fox hissed at him. "And what's that supposed to mean? I don't know what you're talking about."

"A vixen named Liza, I believe?"

"What?! How did you—?"

"Navigation ROB heard you mumbling in your sleep."

Fox clenched his first. "That loose-lipped bastard… Alright, cut the chatter; we're both tired and need medical attention pronto."

Krystal glanced about the room, admiring the pristine white walls and sterile metal surfaces. She hopped onto one of the examination tables and began kicking her legs back and forth, taking it all in—but she fixed the robot and all of his pointy instruments with a look of distrust.

Fox removed the now filthy suit Mrs. de Pon gave him, stripping down to his underwear. He tensed and stole glances back at Krystal to check if she was watching, which of course she was. Even after their encounter in the shower, she still had no concept of modesty and stared at him freely, and there wasn't much he could do to dissuade her.

Fox hopped onto the examination table and lay down, waiting for the medical bot to inspect him.

"Above average heart rate," ROB droned a little too quickly.

"Go to hell ROB. You're lucky she can't understand Cornerian or I'd wax your treads again."

"Do not bite the robotic claw that heals."

After his preliminary quip, Nurse ROB began the examination for real. Fox pressed his arms and legs to his sides as a series of rings passed over him, scanning his body with glowing lights. Once finished, the rings retracted and ROB approached.

"Foreign object buildup in lungs; prolonged respiratory strain; ligatures around the throat; multiple bruises and lacerations; blood loss; slight malnourishment for a healthy young todd your age."

Fox whistled. "What do you prescribe, ROB?"

"Bath and a quick sandwich. Results from my olfactory sensors are in: you reek."

Fox rolled his eyes, but the tone of his voice struck a more serious chord. "You know you were a fifth the cost of this ship, ROB? Stop messing around and tell me what's wrong with me! I should be dead right now. I had a run in with some… er, rogue Venomians, and I thought they filled me full of laser holes like a firing squad. I want to see if they actually hit me or not, and if this blood is really mine, or…" he glanced at Krystal, "just someone else's."

The vixen's ears flicked towards him at those words. 'Um, about that, Fox…'

"What?"

Before she could follow up, ROB approached Fox again, mouthpieces together to make it look like he was pursing his lips. The medical bot thoroughly hosed Fox's chest down with warm water before wiping the remaining blood away; the stuff even Fox—or rather, Krystal—had failed to scrub out in the shower.

Sure enough, not a single hole or burn mark remained.

"I still don't believe it…"

Fox parted his chest and stomach fur, searching for any wounds in the skin beneath. Not even his fur was singed where the plasma rounds had hit him.

ROB took a sample of the blood from Fox's chest, testing it.

"DNA match positive. It is indeed yours."

He shot another glance at Krystal before looking back at ROB. "This doesn't make any sense! Blood just doesn't teleport out of your body like that!"

"Alright, drop the façade, Fox. I know what you did, but I will forgive you. But I better not catch you seeing any other nurse units again."

"Huh? What do you mean?"

Nurse ROB folded two of his mechanical arms.

"You know you can't hide anything from me. You were seriously wounded, but rather than come back to me, you decided to see just any old nurse robot. And what a sloppy job they did, too. They didn't even clean up all the blood after patching you up. Serves you right."

"B-but no one patched me up! I came straight to you after I was shot."

The robot's head whirred, processing for a bit.

"Your physiological cues indicate no deception, and you always were a terrible liar. Interesting…"

"Then how did—?"

Nurse ROB placed a robotic claw over Fox's mouth. "Please, any more of this will fry my logic circuits. I see no other explanation; someone else healed you. Now let me patch up the rest of your wounds."

While ROB started applying medical gel, Fox looked over at Krystal, who squirmed a bit. To hide her nervousness she crossed her arms.

'Well I was going to tell you before that thing interrupted.'

"Tell me what?"

'I… I…' She sighed. 'I told you another lie—but it was earlier today, before my promise! When you asked how the blood got on you, I lied and said it was from a soldier I dragged you over. But, it really was your blood. You were shot trying to protect me, Fox.'

The todd's jaw dropped open. "Holy shit… then for a second there, I really did die! B-but where did all the holes go?"

Krystal wrung her hands. 'I… made them disappear.' She looked down. 'For a moment there I thought you might shoot me, or turn me over to the guards. But then you put yourself in front of me and protected me, and I knew I was wrong. I didn't want you to die! You were the only person who was ever kind to me—the first person I met after waking up. I couldn't lose you, so I… I dragged you to safety. I opened your shirt and saw how much blood and burned flesh there was. I thought you were dead… but I couldn't stand that thought. Before I knew it, your body began to change right under my hands. The blood stopped flowing, the holes closed, and new fur grew. Somehow I watched you heal right before my eyes.'

"Then… you can heal people, too?!"

'No… well, maybe—but I don't know how it happens. I've never done it before. I just… I didn't want you to die, and you didn't. That's all I understand.'

The todd whistled. "You… saved me…"

ROB's voice unit buzzed, as if clearing his throat. "Does not compute. How are you communicating with the blue fox female? She does not speak or use sign language."

"Oh, it's simple; she just uses telepathy."

An explosion of blue sparks snapped like a firework in ROB's head, and a tiny gray mushroom cloud rose into the air. "Alright, that is enough erroneous data for one day. Any more and I think my memory banks will wipe themselves."

"Alright ROB, I'm fine. Would you look Krystal over now?"

ROB's headpiece rattled before he rolled over to the girl's table—but at the sight of all his dangerous-looking medical instruments she flinched and scooted away.

"Wait!" Fox ordered.

ROB rolled to a stop, his claws clacking. "What is the problem? She appears in need of medical attention."

"No, she's scared of you," Fox realized. "She used to be a test subject. Andross… did things to her, in his labs. We'll have to coax her gently."

Fox scooted off the table and grabbed his torn trousers. He clumsily hopped over to the Cerinian, placing one leg in each pantleg at a time.

'Fox, wh-what is that thing doing?!' Krystal asked.

Fox threw an arm around ROB and gave him a friendly side-hug. "This is my trusty robot—and best friend—ROB!" He elbowed the robot in what he assumed were his ribs and hissed, "Now put those pointy bits away!"

ROB retracted the syringes and scalpels until only non-threatening instruments remained. "Greetings. I am Fox's medical robot." He placed a claw where his heart would have been. "As the ship's surgeon, I have sworn an oath to do no harm."

"See?" Fox gave the robot's head a noogie. "He's only here to help. He wants to patch up your injuries."

Krystal tilted her head down and stared at ROB distrustfully. 'He's going to heal me… with those?'

"Yeah—unless you manage to do it all by yourself again."

She glanced at the holes into which ROB's pointy-bits had retracted, worried they might return. 'Al-alright, but no needles.'

Fox turned back to the robot. "Her only stipulation is that you don't use needles. Think you can handle that?"

"I make no promises until I've had a look at her—but I will at least warn her if it becomes necessary."

Fox sighed. "Okay ROB, work your magic."

This time when the robot approached Krystal she didn't shrink back. She continued to stare at him with narrowed eyes, but otherwise let him work without hindrance.

"Please remove your dress," he buzzed, gesturing. "Or at least, my sensors indicate it was a dress at one time."

Catching his meaning, Krystal shrugged off the shoulder straps and slipped her arms from the sleeves. The dress fell down around her feet, causing Fox to unabashedly stare. It wasn't until he had to consciously swallow again that he caught himself and turned away out of respect—which by now was becoming a programmed response. As he heard the sounds of her climbing onto the table, he couldn't help but imagine her unclothed. But he kept mentally kicking himself, trying to get the images out of his head—especially for fear she might be watching.

Fox passed the time by donning his dress shirt again, then twiddled his thumbs while waiting for ROB to finish. He listened with an ear pricked until he heard the scanning wheels stop whirring.

He cleared his throat. "Well ROB? How is she?"

"Condition similar to your own: foreign object buildup in lungs; respiratory strain; lesions around the throat; multiple bruises; lacerations on side and leg; acid burns on feet and calves; and malnourishment—but no significant blood loss."

"Is she burned badly?"

"There is no permanent damage. The fur will regrow and the skin will heal with proper treatment."

Fox let out a sigh. "Well, that's good… Uh, is she clothed yet?"

"You may turn around again; the female is covered."

Fox turned to face ROB and Krystal again, but found the girl sitting on the table in only her underwear, kicking her legs. Panicking, he quickly spun back around.

"ROB!"

"Is something wrong Fox? Your heart rate is increasing again."

"Quit horsing around and take care of her, will ya?"

While he waited, he heard the sound of Nurse ROB applying medical gel to Krystal's wounds. After being treated by ROB himself for so many years, he was very familiar with all the noises, scents, and procedures involved.

Fox's ears twitched when he heard the operation stop, so he turned around. He was pleased to find Krystal wearing her dress again, but noticed a shiny red substance coating the wounds on her legs that peeked through the tears in the blue garment.

"She cannot bathe for 6 hours, either. See that she does not pick the gel off."

"You got it ROB." Almost immediately Krystal began scratching at the gel on her thigh, only for Fox to lightly swat at her hand. "But one more thing. You said she was malnourished?"

"Affirmative—even more so than yourself."

"How much does she weigh?"

"90 pounds. See that she eats."

The todd looked worriedly at Krystal, peeking at her thin frame beneath the shreds of her dress.

"Alright ROB. Thanks for your help."

ROB waved as Fox led Krystal out of the med bay. "Always glad to assist, Fox. But try to come in with something more challenging next time."

"Anything in mind?"

"I've always wanted to try attaching a prosthetic limb—like they do on those holovision shows."

The todd grimaced. "Well, let's hope that's not foreshadowing…"

Fox led Krystal to the crew's rec room next, which was attached to an adjoining galley. She plopped down on one of the three couches, admiring how soft and cozy it was. The beaten-up cushions probably felt like heaven after sleeping on Venom's jagged surface earlier.

"Well, you heard ROB," Fox said, entering the kitchen. "You gotta eat something tonight."

Krystal pouted, hugging one of the throw pillows to her chest. 'Do I have to?' she yawned. 'Can't I just sleep now?'

"No. You can't lose any more weight."

Fox worked away in the galley, preparing two packages of instant meals. Krystal sat patiently on her couch, watching him intently over the partition wall that divided the rec room from the kitchen. All the time he worked, he was conscious of her eyes following him, feeling her gaze raising the hairs on the back of his neck. At any given second, he wondered if she might be reading his mind secretly.

Unfortunately 'Chef ROB' sat uselessly in the kitchen's corner, powered down with his circuits open in back. After a missile hit them in Sector Z, their favorite apron-and-chef's-hat-wearing robot was damaged. Slippy did his best to repair him, but he'd never been able to get him to work right; whenever they turned him on he ended up chasing Falco around the Great Fox with a carving knife and wing batter.

When the meals were done microwaving he placed them on the kitchen table, beckoning Krystal over.

"Here. I'm not much of a chef, and it's a far cry from the dinner we had, but it has plenty of calories. S-sorry I can't get you anything better on short notice…"

Krystal's nose bobbed up and down as she sniffed. "Mmmm!"

She padded into the kitchen and sat down next to Fox, taking her meal. Fox peeled the top the rest of the way off, revealing steaming hot noodles. His own were covered in a bright orange flavor powder, while hers were plain.

Noting this difference, Krystal stuck her nose into his package, inhaling deeply.

"Whoa! What the—?!"

'Hey, yours smell better than mine!'

Fox whisked his noodles to safety. "I didn't put the flavor packet in yours 'cause it's too spicy. I wanted it to sit well in your stomach so you don't barf it up again. You'll have an easier time digesting if it's mild."

"Ohhh…"

Krystal's stomach growled, her hunger momentarily overcoming her envy. Without any further hesitation, she scooped a paw into her steaming noodles. But she quickly cried out and withdrew her hand again, waving it.

"No, you can't use your hand! Here—"

Fox demonstrated how to eat with a fork again, twisting the plastic utensil around and around till he twisted up a cyclone of noodles. Then he lifted it to his mouth. "See? Like so."

The Cerinian followed his example and dug her fork into her noodles, making sure to twist it thoroughly. When she was done she lifted the mouthful out of the package. She frowned upon seeing the oversized bundle of noodles, many of which stretched all the way from her fork back to the container.

"Lassuru ghen!" she demanded, waving the fork up and down till the noodles relinquished their hold. Fox only gave her a tired expression as goopy sauce splashed on his face, wincing as some got in his eye.

Krystal scooped the bite into her mouth, but ended up eating a lot less than what was on her fork. As she chewed, she frowned.

"Don't like it?" he asked tiredly.

When it came time to swallow, she grimaced, squeezing her eyes shut.

Fox watched as she continued to force herself to eat, shoveling smaller and smaller bites into her mouth. She chewed slower with each one, too, till she completely ran out of steam before the noodles were even halfway gone.

Frowning, the todd looked down at his own package.

He hadn't touched his food at all. Not even one bite. The steam had disappeared, the noodles growing cold. He'd set his fork back down, absently twisting it, but never eating. He felt hungry, so why couldn't he just fucking eat?

Fox lifted the fork to eye level, staring at the clump of unappetizing noodles that hung there. Then he looked across at Krystal, who by that time had given up as well. She seemed to notice his uneaten food.

He chewed his lip. How could he get her to eat when even he couldn't?

How could he keep her alive when he could barely take care of himself?

She dropped her fork in the container. 'I'm full.'

He sighed, forcing himself to take a bite of his soggy, cooling noodles.

Now it was Krystal's turn to watch Fox shovel the processed meal into his mouth—but it didn't last long. He noticed her shifting uncomfortably in her seat; then her face began to look pale.

"Urgh…"

"Oh no, not again!" Fox dropped his fork and rushed over to her seat. By that time Krystal's eyes had gone wide, and she had started to double-over. Fox clamped his hands tightly over her muzzle, forcing it closed with an iron grip.

"Keep it in!" he ordered. "You will not throw this food up! You have to keep it down, Krystal!"

She fought him for a second, trying to worm out of her seat and tear his hands off her muzzle, but eventually gave in. She squeezed her eyes shut as her body shook with a series of retches, but eventually she swallowed again, and the tightness disappeared from her shoulders. Fox released her, and she dropped back down into her chair, rubbing her face where his hands had gripped.

Fox hesitantly lay a comforting hand on her shoulder, rubbing it. "I'm… sorry I had to do that."

'Ugh. I hate eating. I hate how it burns your tongue and squishes in your mouth. I hate the gross noises chewing makes. I hate swallowing and feeling it go down my throat. I hate how it sits inside me and weighs me down so I can't run away. But most of all, I hate how it comes back up. I wish I never had to eat again…'

Fox set his jaw. "Well you're going to have to do it three times a day from now on. It's after the war, you know. Many people around Lylat don't even have food to eat."

'I'd gladly give them this.'

His eyes fell down at her half-eaten package, and he sighed. Well, at least it was a step.

After their meager meal, Fox finally showed Krystal to the guest cabin. It was the same one Fara used to stay in, back when he and his father shuttled her around the system for work. She always found some excuse to tag along: making sure the munitions Phoenix Corp sold them worked; checking the arwings' functionality, which her mother's company helped design; or needing safe passage from one company headquarters to another, or even a favorite vacation spot. Whatever the circumstance, it was always just a cover to stay close to them. Well, he said them, but really it was just…

The room had gone unused since his father died. After he started dating Fara, there was no need for the extra cabin—besides keeping up appearances for outsiders.

But Fara wasn't the first person to have used the room, either.

Fox stepped into the dark room with Krystal, admiring the purple glow washing the room from the small glass window on the far wall. The everchanging light danced across the room's interior, barely illuminating the modest furniture and other modern conveniences within. Krystal's eyes lit up upon seeing the mesmerizing view outside. There was a saying among pilots never to stare too long into the heart of the three sectors—well, four, now—but that's exactly what she did. It certainly had a hypnotizing effect over her.

Fox flipped the light switch on, dispelling the shadows and replacing the dim violet glow with fluorescent white.

"Well, here's your cabin. This is where you'll be staying."

Krystal curiously stepped into the new room, looking around. 'It is very nice,' she thought.

Fox walked in after her, showing her around a bit.

"Light switch is here. This one opens and closes the window. Here's the closet if you want to change your clothes—I think there's some extras. Bathroom's through this door. You have your own personal shower so you don't have to… erm, use mine."

Krystal plopped down on the bed, her face lighting up when she bounced up and down.

'It is soft and springy—like the one in that other room!'

Fox zoned out a bit, staring at her as she bounced on the bed. Then he blinked and cleared his throat, quickly heading towards the door. "Well, night cycle ends in eight hours. I'll see you in the morning. We'll make breakfast and… figure out where your home is when we get up."

Krystal sat up when she realized he was leaving. 'Um, Fox?'

He paused on the threshold, ears perking but not facing back to look at her. "…Yes?"

'You're… staying somewhere else?'

"Well, yeah, it's customary for strangers to sleep in different cabins."

'Customary. Oh.'

He dug his heels into the doorframe. "Um, if you need anything I'll be in my own cabin down the hall. Feel free to wake me if… something comes up—especially if you feel hungry in the middle of the night cycle."

He started to head out again, but her thoughts caught him once more. 'Wait! Shouldn't we… shower again, like we did before? Both of us are really dirty.'

Fox's cheeks flushed, but luckily he was facing away. He tried his best not to picture her in the shower again, no matter how much the thought tempted.

"No, we really shouldn't. Uh… the gel has to sit for a few more hours before we can bathe." He ducked out of the room hurriedly, not looking back. "G-goodnight…"

Finally Fox escaped to the solitude of his own cabin, closing the door and breathing a deep sigh. One-by-one he peeled off the soiled pieces of his suit and dropped them in a laundry basket. His nose wrinkled when he smelled himself, still reeking of Venom's sulfuric atmosphere, but the ruby red medical gel drying on his wounds prevented him from washing. He resolved to shower first thing the next "morning"—hopefully before Krystal tried to join him again.

Fox poked at a terminal beside the door frame, setting the Great Fox's night cycle to last eight hours. After a good yawn and a stretch he turned off the lights and closed the shutters over the viewing window, plunging the room into darkness. Then, climbing into bed, he slipped beneath the covers and lay on his side, closing his eyes.

…But sleep refused to come to him, and his eyelids slowly crept back open. He had too much on his mind: too many worries, and too many lingering questions. What if the Cornerians found him in the sector? Or even marauders scouring the nebula? There were plenty of Venomians hiding within the purple clouds, probably eager for revenge.

Out of the darkness of his room, silhouettes of monsters began to take shape; his mind playing tricks on him. He saw outlines of giant spiders crawling behind his furniture—both organic and mechanical. He saw the looming shadows of giant fish floating from one end of the room to the other like phantoms, though he couldn't see the invisible shapes that cast them. Once in the doorway to the bathroom he thought he saw the blood-covered Cerinian standing and watching him, but it disappeared when he focused on the negative space.

Yet the worst sight of all that came back to haunt him was Krystal's sad face as she sat on her bed, and he told her he was leaving. She looked so alone, but he'd turned his back and ran from her anyway. Why was he like this? Why couldn't he have just… stayed?

But he knew why. He couldn't become attached. He needed to wash his hands and be done with her fast, but what to do with her? He didn't want her to go back to the labs, but he couldn't just release her into the wild to fend for herself, either. Lylat knew what would happen to Krystal on her own. Yet letting her stay with him was out of the question, too. Maybe he could hide her somewhere and make delivery trips to take care of her, or find someone else who wouldn't mind taking her in. If he only knew where she was from, maybe he could take her back to her family…

Still, he had so many questions about the mysterious vixen. Where did she come from? How did she have psychic powers? What was Andross doing with her and the other Cerinians in the labs? And, most importantly, what did his mother have to do with them?

Fox flipped over beneath the sheets, grinding his teeth.

Did Vixy really experiment on Krystal and the others with Andross? He just couldn't believe that; his mother would never take part. Besides, that meant the Cerinian project would have to have started before Andross was exiled, and before Vixy died. That was impossible as well; Corneria wouldn't allow something so cruel to take place under their watch.

He thought back to Liza, the strange vixen who had shown up uninvited to his house, only to vanish the moment he turned his back. He had found the photo of his mother and Andross because of her. Was Peppy right? Was it all just a ruse to get him hopelessly thinking? To make him go crazy?

Frustrated, Fox tried to smother his maelstrom of thoughts by covering his pillow over his face. He desperately needed answers, and his head raced with possible solutions, refusing him sleep for the moment.

Eventually the todd's mind exhausted itself with all its overthinking, only coming up on dead end after dead end. His body's exhaustion caught up with him as well, and finally he fell asleep.

Σ-β

When the door slid shut, Krystal's ears twitched at the sound of the latch. Once again she found herself completely alone, hemmed in by four cabin walls closing around her.

She didn't understand it. Why didn't he stay? Why was he so eager to get away? Didn't he like her? Or was he still scared of her?

Why did she make everyone so afraid?

Scooting off the bed, Krystal headed towards the full-length mirror by the dresser. Grimacing, she peeled off her dress and looked at it in her hands.

The dress was ruined. It was little more than a few shredded scraps of what it used to be. A shoulder piece had ripped. Large tears marred the front and back, showing through to her fur. The sparkling blue was stained black and brown from the mud on Venom's surface, and even red from the blood from her scrapes. Much of the skirt hem had ripped off as well, part of it eaten away by the acid sea.

Still, she held what remained of the garment up to her frame and looked in the mirror, trying to remember what she looked like earlier that day: the bright lights sparkling off the material; the hem swishing around her legs as she spun; and the entranced looks of everyone in the room as she "danced."

And now it was just as scarred and stained as the girl who wore it.

The lie had fallen apart.

Snarling, she grabbed the dress and rent it in two. She shredded the article into dozens of pieces till they never could be put back together and scattered them about the room. She tore off the pristine white undergarments, too, snapping the bra clean off when she couldn't figure out the clasp, and finally letting the crumpled poster of Aquas she'd swiped fall to the floor as well.

She looked in the mirror again, standing in the flakes of her shed skin.

The vixen she remembered stared back at her. Under the torn rags hid a coating of mud, dirt, and blood. Under the filth lay the white markings others had left on her. Under the graffitied fur, a body withering away. And under that… nothing.

This is you, and never forget it… "Krystal."