Wow, it's so cool! It's blue and purple and sparkles all over! …What is it?

It's called a █░█░█░█, sweetie!

It looks like a sea urchin… did you find it in the ocean?

No, they find these in deep, spooky caves.

Eeep! D-don't tickle me like that!

It takes years and years of pressure to form them; sometimes they bear the weight of the world before they're dug up. But if they didn't go through all that pressure, they wouldn't look this beautiful.

Can I hold it?

Sure! Just be—

Ow!

Oh, I'm sorry, I tried to warn you dear! You have to be careful when touching it, or the shards might prick you. They're pretty sharp!

It hurts…

Aww, let me kiss it…

…

I thought it might look good on your nightstand, but you don't have to keep it if you don't want to.

I want it, I want it! I know it might hurt, but… it's so pretty.

Well, if you're going to hold it, you have to be gentle, else it might poke you and you'll drop it. But at the same time, it's very fragile and easy to break.

Even after spending so long with all that… that…?

Especially with all that pressure. So, do you think you can hold it?

…I'll try…

Mission No. 20

Sector V
Bolse Station Fallout

"Echoes"

Σ-β

Fox awoke to the familiar white ceiling of his cabin. The Great Fox's daylight cycle had started, meaning it was time to get up. For once he'd gotten close to a full eight-hours of sleep, but for all he knew it could've been years—and it still felt like he could snooze more.

After one whiff of the hellish odor still clinging to his body, Fox crawled out of bed and groggily stumbled to the bathroom—like one of the undead. He turned the shower on full blast and immediately stepped in, forcing himself to endure the icy rain while it heated up. He gasped, shivering in the sleet-like water before the temperature began to raise, but the shock-therapy worked, quickly snapping him out of his sleepy stupor. And by the time he was fully awake, the water had heated up to a warm, soothing temperature.

Fox set to work scrubbing Venom's lingering stench from his fur. As he brushed away the dirt, the coagulated gel ROB had applied to his wounds came with it, leaving behind shiny, raw skin as smooth as a newborn kit's. He'd certainly racked up his fair share of wounds the previous day: scrapes from Venom's sharp rocks, acid burns on his ankles and calves, bruises on his neck where the officer strangled him, among others…

Still, when he parted the white fur on his stomach, he could find no evidence of any wounds beneath. However she managed it, Krystal had legitimately healed him.

Remembering the mysterious vixen was now aboard the Great Fox with him, Fox glanced towards the bathroom door. He wondered if she'd come barging in at any second and join him again, given she'd still learned nothing about modesty. If only she knew about the Arwings and the bees, she wouldn't do such libertine things like that.

Fox smirked a little at the thought. If she wasn't so naïve about such matters, he certainly wouldn't object to… having some fun together. No matter how frightening his psychic passenger was, the mystery surrounding her made the thought of such a romance exciting. Even if she had a bit of an edge, she was still so innocent and trusting—unlike Fara and Liza, or the copious number of fans Falco dragged to his house, who would only ever use him. No, Krystal had no plans like that; she would never betray him.

…Or was she just faking her naivety as a cover for her outgoing behavior? Did she… secretly like him? Feel attracted to him? Did she want to get closer, and was only using her feigned ignorance as an excuse to? Had all of her boundary-crossing truly been unintentional… or did she know what she was doing the whole time?

The thought was appealing to Fox, he had to admit. He pictured the vixen standing before him in the shower, unabashedly admiring her. She really was beautiful, possessing a slender figure, brilliant blue fur, and even a cute, shapely butt. Fondly he recounted all the times he'd seen her partially or wholly unclothed: when he found her floating in that eerie blue cryochamber; whenever she changed in front of him without hesitation; when she'd joined him in the shower and washed his body with her soft, delicate paws…

Fox's pulse began accelerating, and he felt the blood in his veins rushing down to his lap as her imagined hands crept there as well. It wasn't easy holding himself back when such an alluring vixen fell into his arms, no matter her circumstances. Whether intentional or not, Krystal's constant teasing drove him crazy, and he needed release from all the lust building inside of him. He hadn't gotten that release with someone since Liza a few nights ago, he couldn't remember the last time he had Fara, and the women in the Whimsy cola ads flashed by too quickly for anything on the voyage over. He just needed an outlet for his pent-up hunger, but it had to be anyone besides innocent Krystal.

…At least, not in the flesh.

Heart pounding faster, Fox gave in, reaching downwards. If it wasn't right to take her, he could at least imagine her. This was for the best; so he wouldn't keep lusting after her whenever they were together and risk her reading his mind. He would… he would keep her innocent this way.

While the hot water washed over his back, Fox began to stroke, picturing Krystal in his mind again. He let loose, imagining how their shower together could have gone differently: everything he would've liked to do if he didn't hold himself back. Or better yet, how he'd take her if she joined him again right now.

But as soon as the moment of euphoria came, it just as quickly was washed away by shame. Fox's heaving breaths slowed, and he let out a long sigh. He wasn't disappointed that the fantasy wasn't real; he was disappointed with himself.

He leaned against the shower wall, trying to relax and shake that feeling. There wasn't anything to be ashamed about; this was natural. It was the way he was programmed. He was just following his instincts, like he always did. Everyone did this. Everyone wanted things they couldn't have—especially if that thing was a mysterious, blue-furred vixen.

After finishing his shower, Fox put on a fresh set of casual clothes and went to the rec room. He milled about the adjoining kitchen, pouring himself a bowl of cold cereal and milk. Carrying the meal gingerly, he shuffled into the living room and sat on one of the three couches, intent on watching the HV while he ate.

He'd just gotten the first bite of cereal into his mouth when he finally noticed a blue-furred vixen sitting on the sofa adjacent to him.

Fox spat out his cereal, eyes widening. "What the…?!"

The sapphire fox sat cross-legged on the couch, patiently watching him. She wore only a women's dress shirt with two or three buttons clasped, hair and fur shining wet from her own recent shower.

Krystal cocked her head, one of her ears perked. 'Why are you staring at me like that?'

Fox spluttered. "I… forgot you were here is all."

His eyes drifted down the shirt to her bare legs. Even after his… self-administered relief a few minutes ago, he felt his blood already rushing again. But to tell the truth, he was much more unsettled by the particular shirt she'd borrowed.

"Couldn't you… wear something more?" he asked.

Krystal huffed. 'You always say I'm doing something wrong. What is it this time?'

"You know there was plenty of underwear in that cabin. And pants."

'Why should I wear those? They're uncomfortable. Besides, you're the only one who can see me.' She crossed her arms. 'So what's your problem with it?'

Fox looked uneasily at the girl's appearance, brow growing darker. "It… it doesn't belong to you," he said, barely above a whisper.

Krystal squirmed, clutching one of the few clasped buttons. 'I mean, if you don't want me wearing it I could just take—"

"No! But… but put something else on."

He grabbed his bowl off the coffee table and turned his back, retreating into the kitchen again. But by the time he sat at the table, Krystal had gotten up and followed him. She perched on the bar stool, leaning over the counter that divided the rooms.

'You're hard to please, you know that? You hate it when I wear clothes, and you hate it when I don't. I'm sorry if this isn't right, but it's all you left me! Whoever these clothes belonged to doesn't need them anymore. They're no longer staying in my room, and they're not even on your ship thing.'

He glowered down at his cereal, trying not to look at her. "Please: anymore talk of Fara will ruin my appetite."

She rose to her knees on the stool, kneeling with her elbows on the bar as if she were about to crawl over it. 'Fara? Who is this "Fara" you keep bringing up?'

"I don't recall mentioning her name before now."

'Maybe not aloud, but I keep hearing her name in your thoughts.'

He flinched, wondering if he had let something of her slip. "Do you have to keep reading my mind?"

'If I don't we won't be able to understand each other. What's the matter? Why are you so worked up over her? Did she use to sleep in that room?'

Fox felt a pang of sorrow in his heart, remembering. "Mind your own business."

He stirred his cereal absently, stewing. Hopefully that would be the end of it.

He caught a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye, followed by a loud thud on the kitchen tiles. The lithe vixen nimbly hopped onto the table in front of him, her shadow falling over his cereal bowl. Fox looked up in surprise, about to chastise Krystal—but she bent over him, placing her hands on his head like she'd done before.

Her thoughts came to him louder now, bouncing around in his skull even long after she spoke them.

'Who is Fara…?'

'Fara, Fara, FARA…'

The vixen's voice echoed in his head, repeating the name. Fox felt the fingers of her mind poking and prodding through his. She flipped through his memories like a photo album, though perhaps "haphazard pile of magazine clippings" was more accurate. She went fishing through his past using Fara's name as a lure—along with the white dress shirt she wore.

Without Fox's consent, thousands of images of Fara flashed before his mind's eye, and he heard her name said countless of times in different voices—including his own. Finally Krystal latched onto one memory in particular, forcing Fox to relive it.

Krystal and the bright kitchen faded. In its place, Fox now stood outside the rec room in the hall, groggily trudging forward. The lights were dim; the night cycle hadn't ended yet, leaving the hallway pitch black except for the guiding striplights along the floor. As he yawned and rubbed his eyes, Fox saw a soft sepia light coming from the doorway to the rec room, and he stumbled in its direction. Strange—his ears picked up voices inside.

Fox clutched the doorframe and stood on the threshold; it felt slightly larger than he was used to, but maybe that was just because he was smaller. When his tired vision cleared, he saw two figures standing around the bar that he hadn't expected. Gasping, he ducked back around the corner, then poked just his head around to peer in again.

"Oh, Fara! …You shouldn't be here."

His father stood in the kitchen behind the counter, busily working as breakfast simmered away on the stove.

"What do you mean? I paid my way, you know. I'm not some stowaway."

The fennec slipped up onto the barstool, facing James over the counter as he worked. Fox swallowed, confused; she had come to the kitchen only wearing a white dress shirt. While quite large on the small fennec, the hem failed to cover her legs; they stretched down to the floor, futilely trying to reach it with her toes.

"Sorry, I meant… you're up earlier than I expected. And besides, you'll catch cold wearing that."

Her tail lifted the hem up in back, swishing side-to-side absently as she talked.

"What, too casual? I travel with you so much I just feel like part of the family."

The older vulpine kept his head down, busying himself with breakfast rather than acknowledging the fennec further. Still, Fox noticed his eyes kept darting back.

James started slicing some vegetables on the counter, but Fara released a sigh.

"Ugh, you're hopeless."

"And what's wrong with my cooking, little miss princess?"

"You're doing everything the bachelor way! Here, let me do that…"

Fara hopped off the stool and skirted the partition into the kitchen, coming up beside him. The much smaller fennec bumped him away, wresting the knife and pepper from his hands. James gave in, releasing the utensil and backing away.

"Now you just sit over there and I'll finish cooking breakfast for you."

While James sat down at the bar, Fara rushed about the kitchen, effortlessly taking over the meal.

"Honestly, what do you all eat when I'm not around? You'd probably starve without me!"

James chuckled. "Well, Peppy's a decent cook. He taught me a bit, though I'm afraid I'm not very good at it."

"But cooking isn't your job; that's a lady's work! You're too busy flying around the system and fighting criminals to worry about breakfast or supper. Let me handle this for you…"

In no time she had the meal finished, setting two plates on the bar: the large one in front of James, and the small one in front of the stool next to him, which she promptly climbed onto.

James gratefully dug in, while Fara hardly touched her own food at first; she just watched him eat in satisfaction—but she wasn't content to merely watch for long. She leaned over the counter and rested her head on her elbow, the neckline on her shirt slipping down to bare her shoulder. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, swinging them beneath the counter till they caught James' eye.

"My but you're hungry! Look how fast you're eating it up!"

"Well that's because you cook so well," he said through a mouthful of omelet.

She giggled, and Fox's brow darkened. "But really, from the way you eat, I can tell you haven't had a meal like this in a while. You sure you couldn't use a cook, Mr. McCloud? It would help pay my way…"

He wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Fox noticed his eyes kept glancing down at the fennec, but eventually Fox realized he wasn't looking at Fara at all; he was only looking at the shirt.

"Well… Peppy and I usually take care of that, Ms. Phoenix."

"Oh, but… don't you ever get tired of eating Peppy's food? Don't you miss coming home from a dangerous mission to a hot, home-cooked meal? And… someone who made it for you?"

She rested her hand on the vulpine's arm, then slowly tried to scoot into the seat with him.

"…James?"

The older fox abruptly slid off the other side of the stool, leaving Fara to nearly topple over in his absence. Fox's father lowered his head and stormed out of the room without another word.

Fox gasped and pressed himself flat against the wall. The exchange had James so worked up he marched right past him, thankfully not noticing his son standing around the corner.

Once his father had disappeared down the hall, Fox crept into the rec room. Fara's large ears perked hopefully when she heard footsteps again, but she turned and found him approaching instead. At once she pulled the shirt back up her shoulder and tugged the hem over her lap.

"Oh… hi, Fox."

"Morning, Fara!"

The older fennec bit her lip for a second, then discretely slid James' plate over—at least, what was left of it.

"Here, I cooked breakfast for everyone. I think you'll like it."

Fox climbed into the seat next to Fara's, unable to keep his eyes off her. When he took the first bite of food it was warm—no longer hot, as the heat was swiftly dissipating—but still warm. And he clung to that fading warmth.

Snarling, Fox pounded the table with both fists. The vision disappeared from before his eyes, and he caught Krystal blinking as she sat perched before him. Once again, he was back in the brightly-lit kitchen—not too far displaced from where the actors in the memory had been—and a bowl of cold cereal before him.

Fox dropped his spoon, clasping his hands and holding them in front of his mouth. "That was two months before my father never came back. I was sixteen."

Krystal scooted away, eyes glassy.

"Well, are you satisfied? Does knowing more of my secrets make you happy?"

'I-I'm sorry Fox. I don't understand what I saw, or why it makes you sad, but if me wearing Fara's shirt reminds you of someone who brought you pain, I'll change it.'

Fox continued to wring his hands , storm clouds brewing in his skull. But after a few seconds he sighed and relinquished his anger. "No, that's fine.

"It didn't belong to Fara, either."

Finishing his cereal, Fox set to work whipping up a meal for Krystal, too. She watched him work, nose wrinkling as he cooked her synthetic bacon and eggs.

When he was finished he set the plate on the table before her. "Your breakfast, princess."

The vixen turned her nose up at the food.

"What's wrong with it now?" he groaned.

Resting her chin on her knees, Krystal pushed the bacon around with her finger. 'I don't know. You think I understand why I'm this way? There's no getting around it. I'm different than you. I'm different than all of you; everyone else. I wasn't made to eat this.'

Fox raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, 'made to'?"

She lowered her head. 'I just can't eat this.'

Fox felt like tearing his hair out. "You must eat it! You can't just live off soup for the rest of your life. You need to start eating solid food, and this is a good place to start." He took her fork and scooted the bacon closer to her. "Here, try the bacon—you'll love it!"

Krystal's stomach growled, but she shook her head. 'If I eat that, it's just going to end up on the floor again.'

"Well you need to at least try," Fox begged. Growing desperate, he scooped a slice of eggs up, presenting it to her. "Here, it'll be fun. Just like when we fed each other—"

"Tashich hanachen nīe!" she snarled, swatting the forkful away.

Fox was taken aback, and for a moment he saw a flash of the vixen drenched in red—not blue.

Just as quickly as the outburst happened, Krystal sensed her mistake, too. She hunkered down, her ears flattening.

'Please don't make me eat that. You know what will happen just as well as I do."

Gingerly, Fox picked up the fork and replaced it. "Krystal, you can't keep skipping meals like this. You need to start eating more. Do you have a death wish or something? Are you trying to starve?"

She turned away, holding her arms. 'I-I'm not, okay?'

Fox rubbed a hand through his hair, exhaling through his teeth. "Well, maybe you're just not used to Cornerian food. What did they use to feed you on Venom?"

'Nothing,' she pouted, her hair covering her eyes.

"Well, they must have fed you something."

'Not like this. When they needed to feed me, they stabbed me. That's how it was every day.'

Fox's eyes widened. "Oh! I'm… I'm sorry you had to go through that. I don't want to feed you intravenously, but you gotta get nutrition somehow. If you won't eat, I'll have to take you to the med bay and have ROB inject you. Understood?"

Krystal didn't respond; she just stared at her plate.

When she didn't answer, Fox cursed himself. He shouldn't have made that threat; he probably sounded just like them to her.

Hating himself, the todd stood up. "Maybe you just don't want to eat when I'm around or something. I don't really blame you. I'll… go."

As he headed out the door, he half-expected Krystal to call his name and keep him there, but she didn't.

For the next couple hours Fox avoided Krystal, making a trip back to his room to finally dress. He passed the rest of his time in the hangar, giving some much-needed TLC to his Arwing. It hadn't seen much use since the attack on Venom, besides a few ceremonial flights, and the hangar crews always cleaned it right back up afterwards, till it looked even newer than it did before the war.

Now however, after spending less than twenty-four hours on Venom, it looked like he'd dug the ship up in a scrapyard. The hangar's automated systems power-washed the exterior for him, but much of the finer cleanup work was left to Fox—and his assistant, Mechanic ROB. The two worked away in the hangar, scrubbing away the rest of the grime together.

Fox gnashed his teeth, rolling up his sleeves and attacking the gunk wedged between the armor plates. He took out his pent-up aggression on the copious dirt, feeling powerless from events prior.

"What am I gonna do, ROB," he mumbled. "How am I gonna make her eat? I just don't understand her. Is it because she's not used to it? Does she not like my cooking? The taste? Or is it something wrong with me?"

ROB paused his spinning brush arms long enough to answer. "I mean no disrespect, but this query seems beyond my intended functionality as a mechanic robot, Fox."

"Yeah, but you've been around longer than I have. You remember Mom and Dad, right? You must've learned something from watching them."

ROB's gears whirred, the suds dripping down the Arwing's hull where he left them. "Are you implying your relationship with the girl may parallel that of your progenitors, thus making their data… applicable?"

Fox blinked, pausing his own scrubbing. "Huh?"

"Apologies. I am used to conversing with Slippy. Let me rephrase in terms you may understand." The unit whirred a bit more. "You want relationship advice from your parents?"

"Oh… no, it's nothing like that. I just figured you might be able to pass on some wise words… from watching Mom in particular, and maybe how Dad used to deal with her."

"That is what I said. I do not understand the distinction."

Fox huffed. "It's nothing to do with their romance. It's just… I'm worried about that girl. I want to understand her."

ROB paused a bit longer, then returned to brushing the side of the ship.

"I am a purely mechanical device equipped with a modest behavioral processor. Organic lifeforms are difficult for me to understand—the female species, doubly-so. But I know what they are not: a ship."

Fox leaned back, straining to view the Arwing's full length at once. "Meaning?"

"They don't work like machines. They do not act logically—at least, not with any logic a machine can understand. It is a mistake to think you can push a button and they will do what you want, or that they will always try to satisfy their basic needs, or that they will react the same way to every input and stimulus."

He sighed. "You think it's hopeless, then?"

"I am fully machine, Fox—but as a male you are only part machine. Do not try to understand her like you would understand myself or this ship—or even yourself. It is more art than science. Perhaps this is why you are afraid of interacting with her; because she can reject your inputs."

Fox frowned, scrubbing harder till his elbow grew sore. "I'm not afraid of interacting—with her or anyone else."

Mechanic ROB dipped his brushes into the bucket again. "I think it is telling that you only feel safe confiding your feelings in a mechanical being who cannot feel negatively towards you, nor reject you."

"Do you think maybe I'm talking to you because no one else is around?" he growled.

"I am not made to supplement people, Fox. You are talking to yourself—or more accurately, the amalgamated responses of millions of users fed through algorithms to determine the optimal answer. I can only give you the average response from the collective of intelligent lifeforms in Lylat, compounded with what my self-learning behavioral AI has picked up over the years to mimic a personality. Everything I told you may be bullshit, and as a robot lacking self-determination I would have no way of knowing."

Fox frowned. "Nurse ROB would help me…"

"If it makes you feel lonely that I would tear back the curtain and expose my circuits, that is not my intent. I do not wish for you to feel lonely, Fox, but on this voyage you are not alone; you have another flesh-and-blood lifeform with you. You have no need of me—in fact a continued use of me as an emotional crutch is detrimental to your current situation. I will now cease voice functionality."

"What the—?! ROB?"

The robot didn't respond; he just silently continued cleaning the ash from the ship, ignoring him like a… well, a robot.

Fox sighed in frustration, flinging his soapy washrag at ROB's headpiece.

"I don't believe it—rejected by a robot," he grumbled. But when he returned to work, the unit's synthesized words kept coming back to him, and he was forced to think on them in the ensuing silence.

Working up the courage, Fox checked back in the kitchen—but Krystal was nowhere to be found. He glanced at the plate she'd left on the table, and as he feared it hadn't been touched at all; the bacon and eggs he'd cooked went uneaten.

"Shit…"

He was hoping this would be the end of her hunger-strike, and that they could continue to get along again, but he guessed not. The next time he saw her, he would have to confront her about eating again—but he dreaded that moment. He didn't want to fight with her anymore. He hated being firm and forcing her to do things, though he knew he'd have to sooner or later.

For the moment, however, Fox decided to put it off. He needed someplace quiet to go and figure things out—someplace even without ROB. So he sought out his favorite part of the ship to retreat to when he needed to be alone and think: the observation deck.

He climbed to the top deck of the Great Fox, which sat just beneath its large dorsal fin. Two long, floor-to-ceiling windows spanned either side of the dreadnought, giving the occupant an unobstructed view of the ship's surroundings.

When Fox scaled the spiral staircase he was once again struck by the beauty of Sector V. The lights were off as usual, letting the violet glow from the nebula paint the inside of the room with wavering shades of purple. Outside the V-shaped sector had entirely enveloped them in its curtains. In place of the star-studded black of space was an amethyst horizon; it felt like being submerged in pink champagne.

He folded his arms and leaned against the railing, looking out over the Great Fox's portside wing. He thought the nebula might lift his spirits, but it didn't. All he could think about was his mother, and her fate at the heart of a similar green one.

'It's very pretty.'

Fox flinched, realizing he wasn't alone; his fortress of solitude had been invaded. He whipped around to find Krystal's black form silhouetted against the purple window on the opposite side. Working up the courage, he approached, joining her at the starboard window.

The vixen perched atop a supply crate, looking out at the nebula. When he joined her at the railing, he glanced over to see her eyes reflecting the mesmerizing violet clouds, entranced. He noticed she no longer wore the old dress shirt, but had changed into one of his own t-shirts instead. It was a size too large on the vixen—the neck slipping down over her shoulder while the hem fell below her waist.

'I hope you don't mind. You have the only other clothes on the ship—besides hers.'

"You're welcome to it, I guess." He swallowed, wringing his hands. "Thanks for changing for me—I really appreciate it, but… I'm sorry about how I acted. It was stupid of me to get mad—especially over something so small."

She swiveled her head to him. 'But it's not small; I know it meant a lot to you!'

"Yeah, well, it shouldn't have…"

They went back to staring out at the nebula, its glow bathing their faces.

'What is it?' Krystal finally asked.

"Sector V? It's a giant cloud of ionized dust."

'Ionized…?'

He waved his hand. "Don't worry about it. You were unconscious for our approach, but if you'd been awake you would've seen it forming a giant letter V, orbiting not too far from Venom."

'I don't remember seeing it before.'

"It's fairly new. Andross built a defense satellite to orbit Venom, and when I destroyed it, it exploded and left all… well, this behind."

'Oh…'

They fell silent again, taking in the wondrous sight.

'Can you hear it?' Krystal asked out of the blue, not bothering to look his way.

"Hm? Oh, that's just the ship humming."

She shook her head. 'It's something else, coming from outside—and all around.'

Fox perked his ears and held his breath, listening. All he could hear was the usual vibrations in the ship and the air filtering through the vents.

"Well, I can't hear anything; your ears must be better than mine. What's it sound like?"

Krystal concentrated, furrowing her brow. She closed her eyes for a time, listening intently.

'It… sounds like a voice. I hear whispers echoing all around, bouncing off the clouds.'

Fox swallowed. "You mean, in your mind?"

'…Yes, I think it is. That's where I hear it.'

"Can you make out any words?"

She listened for a few more seconds, but shook her head. 'No. Only feelings. There's fear in her voice, and pain. And… anger."

Fox lifted an eyebrow. "Her?"

'I think it's a she. She's somewhere out there, but I don't know where. The thoughts seem to come from every angle at once.'

He felt a chill run up and down his spine. "Well, there shouldn't be anyone else around for thousands of miles. You're… probably just imagining it."

Krystal drew her legs up to her chest, clutching them. 'Yeah…'

Fox watched her as she swiveled her head, facing off into the nebula. In fact, he realized, the direction she looked seemed to be towards Venom, even though she had no way of seeing the planet through the purple clouds. She looked as if she expected something to materialize out of the mist.

"Could it be coming from Venom?"

'Hm? Oh, no. That's not it.'

"You look like you're scared someone's following us."

She rested her chin on her knees, tearing her eyes off the view. 'It's nothing.' But in spite of her words, he occasionally caught her glancing back.

"If you're worried about the Cornerians chasing us, we'll be fine. We're well-hidden here—even with a ship of this size."

'I'm not worried about them,' she thought weakly. Then she asked stronger, 'But when can we leave this place?'

"Now, hopefully. I'd like to take you back to wherever Andross kidnapped you from. Just tell me which planet that is, and I'll take you there."

'I don't care. Just take me far away from here. Anywhere else will do, besides the labs.'

Fox blinked. "But, what about your family? You have a home, right?"

She nodded, but looked away. 'Well, yes…'

"Then tell me where you used to live, and we can be off at once. I'm sure your parents will be thrilled to have you back."

'I… don't know what it's called.'

Fox laughed without thinking. "You don't even know the name of your homeplanet?"

Krystal scowled back. 'I don't know what it's called in your language! B-but I'd recognize it if I was there.'

"Well, if you're a Cerinian, there has to be a nation called Cerinia, right?"

'I guess so…'

The todd took off down the staircase. "Then come on, let's figure out where you're from! I'll tell ROB and we can get going right away—and then we can try getting you to eat again."

The two foxes walked to the ship's bridge, finding Navigation ROB at the helm in Fox's absence. The todd went to the control panel and switched on the monitor. He performed a search for the term "Cerinia", but wasn't surprised when it turned up nothing. Searching for anything about blue foxes likewise proved fruitless.

After a few minutes spent coming up empty, Fox sighed and gave up the search. "Well, there's no record of any country called Cerinia, but your people could just be secretive. Maybe you can pick out the planet you're from, and we'll narrow the search down from there. Here, I'll show ya the lineup."

A holographic map of the Lylat System materialized on the bridge, displaying enlarged versions of all the planets. Fox used hand gestures to control the map, spinning it around so that he brought each planet in front of Krystal, one after the other.

"Did your people live on Corneria? …Probably not. Andross was never able to successfully invade us—though maybe he kidnapped you in a precision raid during the capital attack?"

Krystal glanced at the swirling blue-and-white jewel, only to shrug.

Fox swung the map around. "How about Papetoon? Rather arid planet. It's where most vulpines come from, and where I was born. Odds are you and the other Cerinians might be from here, though I think I would remember seeing blue foxes when I was younger."

The vixen merely shrugged again.

"Maybe somewhere that came under Andross's control? Zoness…? Macbeth…? Titania…?"

But each planet and space colony Fox showed her, Krystal didn't recognize. She continued giving them blank stares till he'd gone through everything on the map.

Fox clasped his hands in front of Krystal. "Come on, you gotta help me out a little if we're ever going to find it!"

'I'm sorry! None of these look familiar to me.'

Finally he switched off the map, exasperated. "Well, I've exhausted the planetary compendium. Could you maybe try describing what it looked like?"

Krystal hesitated a moment, then reached into her t-shirt pocket. She took out a folded, torn piece of paper and did her best to smooth out all the crinkles. Shuffling over to Fox, she presented it to him.

Fox accepted the paper, unfolding it the rest of the way to find it was the poster of Aquas they'd seen in the labs. It was torn, stained with blood, covered in dirt, and soaked with water so that some of the colors ran together, but it was still unmistakable as the Aquas travel photo. His eyebrows raised, amazed she had managed to hang onto it through all their adventures and multiple sets of clothes.

'There,' she said, pointing to the beach. 'This is my home.'

"Aquas?"

She nodded. 'If that's its name, yes.'

Fox scratched his head. "Well, I've never heard of any foxes living on Aquas, but that doesn't mean it's impossible. Maybe there's an enclave of Cerinians on one of the islands there. You wouldn't happen to remember the name of your hometown, or that island, would you?"

She shook her head.

"Well we need to narrow it down somehow. It won't be long till the Cornerians find out we flew to Aquas and come after us."

Krystal tapped the poster again. 'It's right here. It's… whatever this place is. I remember it exactly.'

Fox pursed his lips, but stood up with the photo and brought it towards the control panel. He dangled it in front of Navigation ROB's face.

"Hey ROB, can you figure out where this photo was taken?"

The robot accepted the picture and held it before his optical pieces, holding it closer and farther away again.

"Scanning complete. The island depicted is remote and uninhabited. It is designated a nature preserve by Aquan authorities, never to be developed or visited by tourists. It is kept pristine for use in photoshoots."

"And you said it was uninhabited?"

ROB exchanged glances with him. "Correct."

Fox looked back at Krystal, brow furrowed. She didn't meet his eyes.

He shrugged. "Maybe her people are an undiscovered tribe or something, or the Aquan government is protecting them. In any case, it's our best bet. ROB, set course for Aquas. Take us to that island, and try not to get spotted by the authorities—not that it's possible for me to get in any more trouble than I already am."

"But Fox—"

"I know ROB, I know. Just… do it."

The unit's head swiveled, studying the Cerinian. She seemed to fidget with her hands as his gaze fell upon her.

Finally however, ROB turned back and began plotting their course.

"As you wish."