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Mission No. 30

Area 6
Former Defense Station

"One-Way"

A-6

Aboard a cramped Venomian transport shuttle stood one Captain Grude. The crocodile was large and out of shape, but he managed to look imposing even with his beer belly. If he didn't, what was left of his crew wouldn't respect him.

"Hey grease pot, when we blowin' this scrap yard?"

…Well, at least they still followed orders.

The captain didn't turn around, but instead kept an attentive watch out the forward window.

"Sector V is within sight," he boomed back. "As soon as this floating graveyard drifts a bit closer, and the Cornerian patrols leave the area, we can make a break for it."

Outside the viewport drifted a tangled sea of debris; it now resembled an orbital trash sector more than their proud Venomian fleet. The accursed Cornerian Defense Force butchered Area 6 in preparation for their final assault on the planet. Captain Grude and his crew had barely managed to escape the carnage, but they only leaped from the frying pan into the fire. Venom's surface defenses were just as quickly uprooted, but Grude and his men escaped a second time. Not without losses, of course; they were running short on body bags, and unless the next crewman was completely disintegrated, they'd be short one.

"Enough cowering behind the bones of our fallen brethren!" a spider monkey exclaimed. "I say we take them head-on and avenge the Emperor!"

Grude rolled his eyes. "Lago, you're demoted."

"You've already demoted me back to private! I can't go any lower."

"I don't care, I'm still demoting you!"

The dismembered bridge of a Zeram-class cruiser floated by, emitting sparks. Grude pointed a clawed finger at it. "Do you want to end up looking like that? …No? I thought not. We wait for their patrol to leave."

Lago sat down and stared into the corner darkly. "I can't believe this. We've fallen from soldiers to common smugglers…"

Grude glanced towards the back of the cargo bay, where a crate with valuable contents sat. They weren't able to escape Venom with much, but depending on the price they could fetch for it on the black market, they might be set for a while.

The four Venomians inside the shuttle waited anxiously. Grude kept up a stoic façade, even though he was just as nervous as the rest of the bunch. Shirk, an orange salamander and Grude's right-hand man, was seated at the controls. He had his eyes trained on the scanners, watching the Cornerian patrol as it passed. Lago the spider monkey kept fidgeting with his gun, while Speckler, their gangly chimp gunner, nervously paced around his station. None dared make a sound, even though the Cornerians couldn't possibly hear them.

"The curs are gone!" Shirk finally rasped.

"About bloody time. Let's get out of here!"

The salamander gunned the engines, and the shuttle left the carcass of the Umbra-class cruiser they were hiding in. Together they made a beeline for Sector V in the opposite direction of the patrol. They could see the enchanted purple hues glowing through the forest of debris: a promise of freedom from the watchful Cornerian eye.

But a fiery orange burst flashed on their portside, sending scraps of metal and bits of flame in all directions.

"What was that!?" Lago cried.

"They've spotted us!" Speckler jumped into the transport's turret seat, prepping the dual barrels for action.

"Nonsense, it was just a damaged fuel cell combusting," Grude assured them.

But Shirk looked up from the scanner. "Whatever it was, that Cornerian patrol's comin' back to investigate!"

The crocodile balled a fist and smashed it into the hull. "Rotten fuckin' luck! Of course this happens the moment we make a break for it. All ahead full, Shirk! No sense in slinking around anymore."

The salamander pressed the throttle all the way forward, and the ship accelerated. The Cornerians spotted the fleeing soldiers and began their pursuit. Shirk did his best to bob and weave through the scattered wreckage, but it was difficult to accomplish at full speed.

A metallic thunk sounded against the ship's hull, and the occupants lurched to one side.

"Watch it Shirk!" the reptile growled.

"Get off my ass!" Shirk hissed back. "Whatever piece of garbage hit us came from my blind spot; how could I bloody see it? Scrap musta had a mind of its own. 'Ss like it was aimin' for us…"

The ship rocked from another explosion and began to slow. Grude rushed to the side porthole and looked out, noticing a worrying plume of smoke trailing from their starboard engine.

"Speckler, keep those dogs off our tail!"

"It wasn't them!" the chimp shouted back. "We're not in range yet!"

Then what in bloody blazes…?

A hiss began to emit from the rear of the shuttle, while a corresponding chime went off on the dashboard.

"Someone's boarding us!" Shirk warned.

Grude and the others spun around a mere second too late. They came face-to-face with a blue-feathered pheasant and a blaster primed and pointed at them. As one, they drew their weapons and aimed back.

"Whoa, take it easy there," the avian said in a cocky voice. "I wouldn't shoot if I were you."

"You're in no position to bargain, bird," Grude returned. "It's four of us against one of you. You might kill one of us, but we have four times that chance of killing you."

"You're one to talk, gator-gut. You're the biggest target here and the first one I'll shoot if it comes to it." He smirked. "I have less chance of missing that way."

Grude's jaw dropped open while the two primates in the crew exchanged glances.

"That fine with you Speckler?"

"Yeah, I say we take 'im."

"Wait! As captain I order you not to fire!"

The bird flipped a detonator in his other hand and caught it. "Smart move. See, I just decommissioned your starboard engine. Got a bomb hooked to your portside one as well, and if anyone makes a sudden move, my itchy trigger wing will det it. Faster than you can whine, 'Uncle Andross!' you'll be sittin' ducks for the Cornerians to pick up. Then it's off to a prison colony for a decade or two."

Making matters worse, Shirk warned, "Hurry Captain, the Cornerians are gaining on us!"

Grude kept his blaster trained on the bird, but it trembled along with the ship.

"You… you're no Cornerian! You're just some merc. In fact, I bet you exploded that random fuel tank just to set us up like this. So, what's in it for you besides the bounty on Venomian soldiers? There's gotta be somethin' else ya want, or you wouldn't have gone to this length to get us here."

The avian nodded. "Right you are! I want this:" Without even glancing down, he tapped his foot against the crate they were smuggling out of Venom. At the rear loading dock of the shuttle, he had it right where he wanted it.

"Captain, he can't have that!" Shirk hissed quietly. The ship lurched when he glanced over his shoulder at Falco.

"Eyes on our flight path!" Grude bellowed at him. Turning back to the avian, he begged, "I'll-I'll give you an even portion!"

Falco just raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, as if to say, Really?

"Then we'll split it 50-50?"

The ship rattled as Shirk crashed into more debris, but the mercenary didn't budge.

"Fine, you can take all of it! Just let us go!"

"Whew, thought you'd never agree!"

The bird shoved the case backwards with his foot. The weak artificial gravity made it slide effortlessly backwards through the airlock and into his ship's cargo hold, which was docked against the back of the shuttle.

Lago crept into the open, eyes widening the more he studied the avian. "Wait a minute… you're part of Star Fox, aren't you?"

The bird puffed out his chest and straightened his jacket collar. "Gettin' warmer…"

Lago pointed at him, a glare in his eyes. "You're that bird, Falco Linguini!"

He slouched, a look of disappointment on his face. "Oh come on, is it really that hard to remember Falco Lomb—?"

But the monkey charged forward, blaster firing. "You'll die for what you did to the Supreme Emperor!"

Falco threw himself to the floor to avoid the first few blaster shots, then fired his own weapon squarely in the charging primate's chest. His assailant fell to the deck, clutching at a burning hole in his uniform.

Falco righted himself and blew the trail of smoke coming from his blaster. "So… anyone else?"

"He killed Lago!"

"Get him!"

But before the others could attack, Falco kicked a fire extinguisher into the forward hold of the shuttle, took aim, and exploded it with a well-placed blaster shot. The pressurized container ripped apart, sending white foam everywhere. The Venomians were quickly covered and blinded by the solution, halting their advance. Meanwhile, Falco dove backwards through the airlock and waved at them.

"Pleasure doin' business with you gentlemen!"

The bay door sealed shut just in time to block a volley of laser fire. The ship lurched as the avian's fighter decoupled and drifted away.

Grude glanced over at Speckler. Both of the Venomians didn't look like much more than piles of foaming agent with eyeballs—angry eyeballs.

"Well, I heard Star Fox was a team of goody-two-shoes, so maybe he'll keep his word and let us escape."

The shuttle reverberated as another explosion took its portside engine.

"Son of a—"

ㅤ⨕ㅤ

Peppy nudged the crate with his boot. "So that's how you ended up with… this?"

"Of course!" Falco beamed.

The hare crossed his arms and smiled condescendingly. "Really Falco, you expect me to believe all that?"

"Well, yeah—why not?"

"How'd you know what those hooligans said after you left the ship?"

He faltered. "Uh… I mean, it coulda happened…"

"That's about the most ridiculous story I ever heard come from that yappin' beak of yours. 'Shooting a flying fire extinguisher' my cottontail… Now I know where Fox gets all his wild stories!"

Peppy, Falco, and Slippy stood in the shuttle's storage compartment, gathered around a large transport crate. The avian had lugged it aboard Peppy's rental shuttle the day before—after he'd traded Arwings with Fox for their stunt at the gate. Once they helped Fox and Krystal pass through, they slipped away to neutral space, hiding just on the edge of the Meteo asteroid field. Outside the viewport lay the blackness of space, littered with tiny white stars scattered like grains of salt.

"Honestly Falco, I can't believe you stole this. I thought you were above petty theft and-and drug runnin'!"

"Yeah? Well ya had me figured wrong. When I joined the team, I'd just left my old street gang back on Zoness. We pulled jobs like this every week. Kinda been missing that thrill lately. Oh, and quit saying I 'stole' it. It's not stealing if you steal from thieves."

The hare's nose twitched. "But they stole it from our boys! By the reflexive property, you're stealing from the Cornerians."

"Who in turn originally stole it from the Venomians! See, even the Cornerians know it's okay to steal from those who steal!"

"What!? But… Argh!" Peppy threw his arms up in frustration. "Stop trying to confuse me! The point is, you've ended up with property that rightfully belongs to the good guys, and as your elder by some twenty-plus winters, I strongly advise you to return it."

Falco crossed his arms and wouldn't budge. "Nuh-uh. I broke my tail-feathers getting this stuff; I ain't about to just drop it off on some cop's doorstep."

Peppy scratched his chin, smirking. "You know Falco, something doesn't add up. Why were you out in Venomian airspace to begin with? Don't tell me you went all that way for a case of drugs."

"Well, I was! Got a problem with it? I got a tip that some Venomians were carrying precious cargo through the wreckage of Area 6 and decided to check it out. Thought I could make a buck or two."

The hare lifted an eyebrow. "You sure it wasn't because of somethin' else?"

"I… I…" Falco scuffed his boot. "Alright, so I was worried about Fox. Is that what you wanted me to say? He asked me for help and I thought it was another one of his manic episodes so I ignored him, but… I started to feel pretty bad about it. You know, like what if something happened to him out there? So when I found out the poor kid really was gone, I set out after him—but I lost his trail. Then I got the tip."

The hare leaned against the crate smugly. "Well I wish you woulda told Fox that when you had the chance; he was feeling mighty alone this past week. Seems like you were scared of seeming attached to him, weren't ya?"

"Hell no! I just… wanted to make sure he didn't do nothin' stupid."

Peppy sighed, brushing his ears back. "Well, where are you gallivantin' off to next?"

Falco shoved the crate towards the Arwing, grunting as he worked alone now. "Zoness: I'd like to get this stuff off my hands as fast as possible."

"Sure you're not headed back there because seeing Fox with that blue vixen put certain thoughts in your head?"

Falco straightened up, glaring at Peppy. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

He shrugged, trying to act casual and hide his grin. "Oh, I don't know, maybe you might be feelin'… lonesome yourself?"

The avian narrowed his brow before throwing his weight against the crate again. "What is it with these lines of questions? Quit analyzing me, Pops. I just… blew through most of my reward money and can't mooch off Fox now that he's gone—and you emptied our treasury! I really need some dough right now. I got connections in Zoness that could help sell this stuff."

Peppy knelt in front of the crate, nose still wrinkling in disapproval. "Well, what type of drug is it? Class A's? Hallucinogens? Opioids?"

"I… I actually dunno. I've never seen them before. Must be a new Venomian drug. Here, see for yourself:"

Falco crouched beside Peppy and undid the clasps. The top popped open, revealing the crate's contents. Rack upon rack of sample tubes rested atop one another, sparkling in the shuttle bay's fluorescent light. Peppy gingerly picked one of the vials up, studying it with one eye closed. He turned it back and forth in his fingers, admiring how the light seemed to make it change colors at different angles.

"I admit my knowledge of narcotics is limited. James and I never did anything more potent than Molly during our academy days—not that either of you should try it!" he finished, pointing a finger at Slippy and Falco.

Slippy shook his head vehemently while Falco scoffed. "Yeah-yeah, skip the lecture Gramps. You're alive and still here, which means it didn't kill ya."

Peppy stared thoughtfully out the window. "That fool almost got us kicked out of Flight Academy…" He shook himself back to the present and handed the vial to Slippy. "Can you make anything of this, son?"

Slippy narrowed his eyes at the container. "Well, it has 'krystal lysergisch acid' printed along the side: 'krystal' spelled with a K."

"Oh that's just the Venomian spelling of crystal."

"No shit Gramps," Falco said. "Think it could have anything to do with that blue-furred piece Fox was escortin' around?"

Peppy scratched his chin fur. "The names are probably just coincidence—heck, before I met Vivian, I dated a rabbit named Mary Jane once. Fox told me Krystal gave herself the name because, as a research subject, she didn't have one. I guess it could've been inspired from something in her past…"

Slippy handed the vial back. "Looks like some sort of experimental drug Venom was working on. Maybe it is linked to the Cerinians. The test-tube packaging suggests it was synthesized in a lab by actual researchers—it's not some bootleg cooked in someone's basement, or else it would've been packaged in gallon jugs without the scientific labeling."

"A… lab, you say?"

"Yeah: right here it says 'Sekution 009.'"

Peppy's eyes widened when he read the label. "Oh no…"

"What?"

"What is it?!"

"It's… nothing…"

Peppy clasped his hands behind his back, pacing over to one of the viewports. Wordlessly he stared out, lost in thought. Both Falco and Slippy waited anxiously for his conclusion, but eventually he turned and faced them with a resolute expression. "Since Fox is no longer in Lylat, the duty falls to me to be acting commander of Star Fox. I say we help him."

"Now you're talking!" Falco pumped his fist.

"I'd love to, b-but how?" Slippy asked. "He's an entire star system away! There's no way we can get through my dad's gate a second time; security will be even tighter now."

"I know what he's thinking," Falco smiled, locking eyes with Peppy. "We'll sneak aboard a Cornerian troop transport headed through the Gate!"

"That's exactly what we'd do," Peppy began, "if'n we wanted to get ourselves caught the fastest way possible. That's just plain suicide! No, we can help Fox by remaining here in Lylat. I think we stumbled onto something big: bigger than any of us—and not to brag, but that's saying something. I'm a little concerned about the rushed absorption of Venom's research into Cornerian companies. Part of me thinks there's not enough good intentions in the world to transform that which is evil."

Slippy wrung his hands. "Alright, then what do you want us to do?"

"We look into this psychic program. Find out more about that young lady, Andross's involvement, and the current status of the experiments in government hands. Whoever that girl is, Corneria and Space Dynamics seemed really determined to hold onto her. Maybe they're restarting the Cerinia project now that they got their hands back on the test subjects. Whatever the case, this crystal lysergic acid seems linked to the project, so we can start by analyzing these chemicals."

Falco nodded confidently. "I know a gal on Zoness. She's a great cook—er, chemist, I mean."

Peppy glared at him, his whiskers twitching. "I'll pretend I didn't hear that slip-up. Locate your… chemist, and have her analyze these. Find out their effects, what they're made from, whatever. Keep in constant contact with me. As for you, Slippy," he turned to the amphibian, "what I'm going to ask of you is rather dangerous. I want you to infiltrate Cornerian Intelligence and find out more about this Cerinia project. Use whatever elevated privileges and job positions you have. But whatever you do, don't get caught. Are you up to it?"

Slippy scuffed his boot against the bay floor. "Snooping around government databases is pretty risky… but if it's for Fox I'll do it. Count me in!"

"What about you, Gramps?"

"I'll ask around, find out what Corneria and Space Dynamics are up to. I've made plenty of connections since the Lylat War, so it's time to put them to good use. I also need to identify this 'Liza' person, and who she's working for. How did she know about Cerinia's existence, Section 9, and specifically, Krystal? Where is she—or her employers—trying to lead Fox?"

When they finished talking, they helped Falco carry the crate back aboard Fox's Arwing. The fighter was docked with the rear of the shuttle, so Falco had to crawl in through the storage compartment to get to the cockpit. Once inside, he pushed the seat back up and settled in. A jolt ran through the ship as the doors sealed and it decoupled from the transport shuttle. But before he left, Slippy hailed him over the intercom.

The frog's emerald face appeared on the screen. "Hey Falco, you be careful out there! You know I won't be around to keep your beak out of trouble anymore."

"Ha-ha." The pheasant folded his wings behind his head and kicked back. "Don't worry about me, Slip. I can handle things. If anyone, I should be worried about you."

Peppy's face replaced Slippy's. "Remember Falco, that's Fox's Arwing. You better not put a scratch on it, or—"

"I know, I know. He'll have Chef ROB fricassee me. Don't worry, I'll treat her like my own ship!"

"That's what I'm worried about…"

As his ship floated away, Falco looked up at the shrinking shuttle, which gleamed silver in the sunlight. "I'll see you guys when I finish sorting this business out. I promise."

"Bye Falco!" Slippy cried before he drifted out of comm range.

The avian placed two fingers to his forehead and saluted. "Yeah, bye kid…"

ㅤ⧲ㅤ

The doors to the Justice's secure cargo hold hissed opened, admitting Captain Bill Grey. It had only been 24 hours since Fox McCloud escaped with the Cerinian research subject, but preparations aboard the Justice were nearly complete for its maiden voyage. Bill would have liked nothing more than to immediately reopen the gate and chase after Fox the instant he lost him, but blindly rushing in would have been foolhardy. A single fighter couldn't stand against one of the most powerful dreadnoughts Lylat had ever seen, much less the untold dangers of planet Cerinia. Fox could be anywhere on the planet now—but at least they had the tools to find him.

One of which, allegedly, was right before him.

The maximum-security hold was the safest place on the ship in case of a battle. It was specially fortified to protect important cargo and individuals: everything from diplomats to prisoners to experimental weaponry. Unlike the rest of the Justice, which was starkly lit white, the lights in the security hold were off, plunging it into darkness. Only a few dim aisle lights illuminated the intended pathways across the floor, as well as the white wash of tablets and computer monitors on the faces of the scientists stationed within.

The brightest light in the room came from a box in the center. Bill thought it looked like a glass holding cell, with acrylic walls on the outside and mirrors on the inside facing inward. A lone vixen sat within: Cerinian 19, who he had seen escorted aboard earlier. A second box sat at the opposite side of the room, but it was dark and featured no glass, barely even awash in the light of 19's cell. Whatever they ended up putting in that solid steel trap would have a much harder time escaping—but even now he felt an extreme sense of unease looking at it, regardless that he knew it was empty. At least, he assumed it was empty.

Milling about the room was a troop of General Dynamics' scientists. They checked and rechecked life support equipment and gestured at monitors while speaking in hushed tones to one another. Among them, Bill identified the unmistakable silhouette of Dr. Marjorie Makepeace, who he walked towards.

"Dr. Makepeace, are preparations complete for the voyage?"

The carmine-furred vixen looked up from her tablet. "Yes, we have everything loaded and double-checked."

"Good, then we're on schedule. We'll disembark shortly."

"Mm, yes. The sooner we recover Number 28, the better." Makepeace spoke as if it were an automatic response; her attention was elsewhere as she focused on her notes.

After their previous meeting, Bill wasn't eager to endure more conversation with her, so he left her alone. The glass prison cell caught his eye again, and he walked over to it, halting a few paces away.

19's cell was sparsely outfitted with the barest of necessities: a small bed, a chair, a sink, a toilet, and an untouched stack of holozines. While Bill could see through the wall in front of him like glass, the rest were mirrors. On the rearmost wall and the two adjoining it appeared reflections of the cell stretching into the horizon like infinitely-long tunnels; each cloned image grew darker than the one before it. 19 herself was also repeated ad infinitum; she sat on the padded floor with her legs folded beneath her, long hair draped over her eyes as she intermittently glanced around. Apart from the corners between the walls, Bill couldn't find a single sharp edge in the room; everything was cushioned and soft.

Even though Bill stood within the light from the cell, she didn't seem to notice or acknowledge him. She stared right past whenever she glanced around.

"She can't see you, you know."

Bill looked back to see Makepeace approaching him. She stopped by his side, observing Number 19 and clutching her tablet in front of her skirt.

"Her cell is made from one-way mirrors. She can't see outside, but we can see in."

"Doesn't seem like a fair arraignment."

"No, it's not."

Together they watched Cerinian 19 doing… absolutely nothing.

"The General told me she was harmless now," Bill asked. "Is that true?"

Makepeace chuckled slightly. "If it weren't true, she'd be in the other cell."

"Then is all this—" Bill gestured to the mirror-filled prison, "—still necessary?"

"Just a safety precaution. Our understanding is that 28 sealed 19's powers away when they met. She hasn't manifested any outward psychic abilities since the incident, though she remains receptive to the thoughts of other Cerinians. Still, we remain cautious in case her powers were to reawaken."

Makepeace hesitated for a second, glancing at him. "You know, you two have something in common."

"And that is…?"

"Don't take this the wrong way, but that day on Venom, you each lost something. Fox robbed you of your honor, and 28 robbed 19 of her powers. I imagine both of you are eager to find them again."

Bill clenched his fists. "That may be, but I don't think she'd look at it the same way. That other Cerinian stopped 19 from continuing her massacre. I expect she'd be thankful to her."

"And McCloud saved you and your men during the battle for Katina, I am told."

The bulldog sighed. "He did. Fox is my friend, but… my loyalties lie with Corneria, and that's all that matters. Whatever personal feelings I have for Fox—good or bad—are irrelevant. This is about serving justice on traitors and helping Lylat recover from war."

"Indeed, it is."

Here the conversation died again, and Bill wordlessly watched 19. She looked bored, and…

"…She seems lonely."

Makepeace nodded. "Mm. Perhaps she misses her 'sisters.' I'd be with her now, but I can't stay by her side 24/7. Unfortunately, I have much work to see to before we leave."

When Bill didn't respond with anything, she hesitantly asked, "Tell me, what was it like when you saved her?"

"Ma'am?"

"I was told you were the one who found her and took care of her when she broke free. What exactly happened that day?"

Bill's brow furrowed. "I was attending the war crimes tribunal on the other side of Venom's complexes, but when I received Space Dynamics' call for backup, I rushed over with my men. We found several bodies of soldiers and scientists along the way; we saw what she was capable of, and we knew she would probably do the same to us, so we were a bit trigger-happy. Of course, anyone would be in those labs. Yet when we found her, I hesitated to give the order to shoot. She was just cowering in the hallway, covered in blood. She didn't look like she would harm anyone anymore. So, I gave the order to spare her."

"And you were the one who washed her?" Makepeace asked.

Bill shifted on his feet. "Yes. Once her bloodlust wore off, she seemed miserable; like she knew what she'd done. She was soaked head-to-toe in red. I didn't want to leave her that way."

Makepeace crossed her arms. "Well, underneath all your staunch military posturing, you have a kind heart. I am grateful you spared her; you see, I view all of the Cerinian subjects as the children I never had."

"You're… unmarried?"

She snorted softly. "Do you think I could get to this position being married? No, I have no children of my own. I couldn't if I tried."

"Oh… I'm sorry to hear that," Bill offered.

She shrugged. "It's for the best. Someone needs to be the mother of all these girls; someone who cares. I treat them the best I can, given the circumstances. I try to make things easier for them."

"But what happens when one of your daughters—?"

"Goes on a murdering spree?" The doctor sighed. "There's not much we can do to scold her. Any further punishment would break her; Venom's scientists already punished her enough. But perhaps losing her powers was suitable recompense. Please understand, Cerinian 19 wasn't born a killer—nor 28, nor any of the others. Andross and his scientists made her this way; none of it was her own doing. I'm just thankful that any Cerinians survived at all under his brutality."

"Are 19 and 28 all you have left now? Did she kill the others when she escaped?"

Makepeace shook her head. "By a stroke of fortune, we were transferring the other rescued Cerinians when 19 went berserk. I am glad to say most of our subjects survived—but none are as advanced in their psychic development as 19 or 28. And now that 19 lost her powers, 28 is the strongest remaining Cerinian—which is why it's so important that we rescue her and keep her safe. I'm afraid 19 won't be allowed to visit her sisters again, or one of them might reawaken her quite deadly powers, endangering them."

Bill fell silent again, looking forlornly at 19. How hard would it be to never see any of his own friends again? For a second, he imagined her remaining in that cell forever, all by herself.

The vixen leaned closer, peering up beneath his downcast eyes. "…Would you like to see her, Captain?"

He raised a brow. "Is that within protocol?"

"Was it within protocol for you to risk sparing her?" Makepeace's eyes twinkled. "You showed her mercy and kindness, without which 19 would have been killed. I think a meeting is in order."

Makepeace had another scientist lead Bill to the entrance. He swiped his keycard at the door and typed in a passcode, then opened it for Bill. While the walls of the cell appeared transparent from the outside, as soon as he stepped inside, it was like walking through a portal to another dimension. He left the dark recesses of the cargo hold only to enter an illusory space of infinite hallways. It felt disorienting at first, and he jumped a little when the door closed suddenly. He spun and looked behind him, only to come face-to-face with himself; he was now surrounded on every side by walls of mirrors.

When Bill turned around again, he found 19 still seated on the floor, looking up at him with perked ears. She wore the same straitjacket gown he'd seen her in earlier, only now the arms were unclasped and she was able to move them freely. In contrast to how he remembered it, her hair was long, bright, and silver, though she showed no other signs of old age. Her fur was a deep purple that Bill likewise thought unnatural—even for a Cerinian. Was she always this color, or had the blood from that day forever stained her fur? It was hard to tell in the dark labs.

"Um, hello again," he managed.

"Hello," 19 returned quietly, echoing the word back at him like their reflections.

Bill pointed to himself. "Do you remember me?"

She cocked her head. "Nas siekim hanachen?"

The captain recoiled. Venomian—that's right, she spoke Venomian! The words and accent brought a flood of memories back to him: prisoners spitting out threats even during interrogation, distorted communications between frantic enemy pilots, and the dual-language Venomian broadcasts demanding the surrender of Katina before they attacked. He could hardly believe someone so beautiful would ever speak in that harsh, disgusting tongue—but then again, perhaps he could if she were still covered in blood.

"Nas seinsu verkgua?" she prodded, worried voice climbing in pitch.

"Oh, sorry, I… I don't know Venomian. Can you speak Cornerian instead?"

"Kōneria?" she repeated. "Nīe…"

Bill sighed and wiped his short crop of hair back. Well this was going to be arduous. He had the displeasure of picking up some Venomian during the war, but not enough to carry a conversation. Instead, he pulled out his wrist device and opened an app capable of translating in real time.

"I'm sorry, I don't speak your language," he said aloud, then paused. He waited for the wrist unit to repeat his message in Venomian, which came out in an artificial, tinny-sounding voice. "We'll have to talk through a translator for the meantime."

19's eyes widened in recognition of her language. When she spoke, a similar robotic voice translated in Bill's earpiece, mimicking its best approximation of her:

"That's alright; I still want to talk with you."

In truth, Bill didn't know what to talk about. Their first meeting wasn't under the most pleasant of circumstances, and he couldn't just casually bring up how she'd slaughtered dozens of people; nor would it feel appropriate to mention how he'd washed the blood off of her in a dimly-lit shower—but he had to come up with something.

Thankfully the Cerinian girl spoke again. "How did you know which one was me?"

"What do you mean?"

19 gestured to her hundreds of echoes in the mirrors. "They're not real. I've tried to speak to them, but they won't answer; they just repeat whatever I say. Each of us lives in a prison, yet they can perfectly do whatever I do." To demonstrate, she waved her hand above her head, and all her reflections waved back. "So, how did you know which one of us was the real me?"

Though the answer seemed obvious to Bill, he wondered if the girl was really all there mentally. He decided to humor her.

The bulldog smiled awkwardly, reaching down to lay a hand on her head. Softly, he rubbed her silver hair. "I knew you were this one because… I can feel you."

19 closed her eyes and bowed her head slightly, leaning into his paw. Then, she had an idea. She sprang to her feet and backed a few paces away. "Well, how do you know I'm not just a copy of you?"

Bill laughed. "Well, for starters, you don't look very much like me."

"I don't?"

She assumed a posture similar to his, reaching her hand out to mirror the paw Bill had used to pat her. "How about now?"

"Well, it's harder to tell now," he said, continuing to humor her. He lowered his hand to his side, and 19 mimicked him. Wondering how far she'd go, Bill slowly raised his other hand to wave at her, and watched as 19 did her best to match him. He played with her a bit, raising and lowering his arm a few times, laughing in amusement when he faked her out once. Then he struck a resolute pose and saluted, and 19 did the same in an exaggerated fashion. Finally he reached his paw forward, and 19 raised hers as well. Their fingers met in the center where 19's imaginary mirror would have been. It almost felt like he was touching a real mirror, if it weren't for the softness of her paw.

Bill gently pressed his hand forward, until their palms met as well. Their eyes locked together, and they stared at one another, Bill's breath catching in his chest.

"I… have another question." She lowered her hand from his, turning to look over her shoulder warily.

"You have a lot of questions," Bill grinned.

"I know; I'm just curious. How do you know that one of them isn't actually the real one, and you are the reflection?"

Bill shrugged. "Because they don't think—I'm the only one who does. They can speak whenever I speak, and do whatever I do, but they can't think what I think. I can't hear their thoughts; I can only hear my own, so I must be the real one."

"But I can," 19 stated. "I can hear them."

Bill's eyes widened as he stared at her. That was right; she was a psychic, along with all the other Cerinians.

"C-can you hear my thoughts?" he stammered.

Her crystal blue eyes searched his eyes for a minute, only for her shoulders to slump.

"No. I can't."

The bulldog jumped when another voice spoke in his ear. "Captain Grey!" It was Lieutenant Baines' voice. "Your presence is requested in the bridge. If all preparations are complete, it is time to depart."

Bill pressed the button to answer. "I'll be there shortly."

He turned to leave, but felt 19 suddenly grab his uniform—the same way she had in the labs. "Wait!"

Bill turned back in surprise, only to find the vixen with a pleading expression on her face. "…Won't you stay?" she asked.

He glanced down at her grasp on his shirt, noting how tightly she clung to it—then he noticed something further down her arm. Her long sleeve had dropped back to reveal Fox's bandana still tied around her forearm. What was once a bright red was now stained a dark crimson. Bill was surprised they had let her keep it.

Forgetting her previous words, the bulldog reached out to touch the bandana. He half-expected to find it soaked through with blood, but when he lay his fingers on the soft material, he found it dry.

"How did you get this?" he asked. "Why did Fox give it to you?"

19 looked down. "I don't know who that is. 28 gave it to me after I… after I met her and the man she was with. She had it wrapped around one of her wounds, but after she took my powers away, she tied it around my wound instead. They… they could have killed me. I deserved it, but they didn't. They spared me…" She raised her eyes to him again. "…Just like you."

Bill swallowed. Her survival that day was a twist of fate. By all rights, 19 should have died in those labs: mowed down before she could slaughter anyone else. If he hadn't noticed Fox's bandana tied around her arm, Bill would have given the order to fire, and she'd be dead rather than standing here before him.

Shaking slightly, 19 searched his eyes with her fearful blue ones. "Is it true what they told me?" she asked. "All those terrible things they say I did… did I really do them?"

Bill licked his lips, but ultimately had to answer truthfully. "Yes."

19 flinched at the word and stepped back from him; though whether it was because she feared his vengeful wrath, or because she feared hurting him next, Bill didn't know. Her head hung low, and she folded her hands in front of her lap.

"I knew it was so."

Immediately he felt sorry for admitting it. He gulped. "Hey, but you didn't know what you were doing, right? You're not to blame for it. You couldn't help—"

"I knew."

Releasing a fractured sigh, she closed her eyes. "I didn't want to believe it, but it's true. I wanted to pretend it was someone else who did all those things—another me," she said, trying to ignore her myriad of reflections. "But it wasn't. I saw every second of it." She began wringing and clenching her paws. "I still remember their faces; their screams; their blood… I could have stopped at any moment, but I didn't. I wanted it."

A chill ran down Bill's spine, and he shivered. Was 19 really docile, as Makepeace claimed? Was she truly harmless? He'd seen many of the graphic results of her rampage in the labs for himself, no matter how hard it was to believe someone as seemingly innocent as her could have done it.

Luckily, Baines' persistent voice came to his rescue: "Captain, are you on your way?"

Bill sighed inwardly, glad to have an excuse to leave the unsettling vixen—but on the other hand, he felt sorry to do so. "Yes Baines, I'm… currently en route."

Switching off his communicator, he turned to flee as quickly as possible without betraying his fear—but 19 raised her voice before he left.

"Will I… see you again?" she asked, as if worried she had forever scared him off with her admission.

Bill paused for a second, standing in the doorway the scientist outside opened for him. When he couldn't think of a response, he simply switched his translator off and rushed out of the cell of mirrors.

Bill reached the bridge within a few minutes. Crewmembers scrambled across the deck, hurrying to man their positions in the crew pits. Miyu and Fay sat in front of status monitors on either side of the elevated floor, and Lieutenant Baines stiffly stood beside the captain's chair. When Bill entered, he exchanged glances with each of them, and one-by-one they nodded in return. Catching his breath, Bill marched across the deck and reverently took his seat. It almost felt like sitting on a throne.

"Hey, what took so long?" Fay asked. She used a quiet-enough voice so that only the other officers would hear. "Get distracted marveling at your new ship again?"

But Miyu could tell he was shaken-up; his pallid face couldn't hide it. "It's that research subject, isn't it?"

Bill slowly nodded, fingers clenching and unclenching the armrests. "We'll be using her to find Fox—and the other Cerinian. I thought it best to visit her before we set off."

"Oh, the witch-girl," Fay murmured. "I don't blame you for feeling that way; she gives me the creeps, too! I'd feel much safer if we didn't have her aboard. With all the surveillance equipment, we don't really need her, right?"

The canid bit at his claws thoughtfully. "No, we need her. She's attuned to 28's thought-waves."

Miyu pursed her lips, staring down at her monitor screen. "I dunno. We saw what she did, but… I still can't help but feel sorry for her."

Recovering from his anxiousness, Bill straightened into a better, commanding posture atop his seat. "It doesn't matter. What's important is that she'll help us find 28, and we need to leave as soon as possible. My visit confirmed she was settled in and the staff from General Dynamics are ready for our voyage. Is everyone else aboard?"

"Y-yes," Miyu answered. "Both Husky and Bulldog units are accounted for—Captain!" She took pride in being able to call him that after so many years, and it likewise made Bill himself feel proud. Soon, he'd all but forgotten of the Cerinian they had on board; excitement replaced his fear.

"Are the supplies and equipment loaded?"

This time Fay answered. "All ships, weapons, provisions, and other equipment is stowed away."

"And the crew?"

"Ready and willing, sir!" Baines barked. "We await your command."

"Very well then. Chief communications officer, request gate access to Cerinia."

"Yes sir!"

While the comms officer contacted gate control, Baines spoke to Bill. "The Beltino Orbital Gate requires tremendous amounts of energy to keep open, sir—especially at such a large distance. Because of this, contact with Lylat will be extremely limited. The Lilith System is roughly ten light years away, meaning even subspace communication isn't feasible—unless you're willing to wait months for further orders," he chuckled. "The gate will open on a daily basis to allow radio waves to pass through; not more than fifteen minutes unless something important comes up. This will let Corneria and General Dynamics check up on us, and allow you to report to General Pepper."

"Then there is no warp gate on the other side? What is the return plan?"

"When our mission is completed, or something goes awry, we'll have to wait a day to request extraction; until the next time they crack the gate for radio communication. Then we'll rendezvous at the designated airspace where the gate appears and wait for it to open."

Bill sighed, feeling his blood pumping. "Well, I couldn't have asked for something more exciting for my first voyage as a captain."

"Indeed not, sir!"

Outside the bridge's viewing window, public traffic through the gate ground to a halt. The orrery of rings at the center of the orbital gate shot forth a beam of green energy, which struck one of several Zypher rings floating nearby. On impact, the Zypher ring expanded into six pieces, creating a shimmering pool of emerald energy. When the ripples in the mirror-like surface settled, a circular cut of stars materialized, seeming to move independent from the actual stars in the background. And, just barely visible above the bottom lip of the portal, appeared the top of an alien planet's horizon, eclipsing the sun.

Stabilizing arms and umbilical tubes released from the Justice, letting it float free from its mooring. It eased out of the orbital gate and gently sailed the remaining distance to the portal hovering a few kilometers away. The closer they pulled to the gate, the more the awaiting planet's surface drew into view.

Once the Justice passed through the circle, it closed behind them, and the bulldog felt a shiver involuntarily run through him. His ship was now left in orbit above a breathtaking, blue-and-violet planet ten light years away from home: alone.

He sighed, releasing the tension and tingling sensation building up within him. "Commence the operation."

Miyu raised an eyebrow. "Sir, Operation…?"

Bill steepled his fingers and grinned.

"Foxhunt?"