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Mission No. 34

Zoness
District 13

"Captive"

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Still riled from Katt's murder attempt, Falco stepped out of the garage. He shoved his hands in his pockets, head hung low.

"I guess things didn't work out between you, huh?" Kitt asked, sidling up to him.

Falco shook his head, staring at the cracked sidewalk. "No. No they did not. Went about as poorly as they coulda gone."

Kitt wrung his hands, resisting the urge to say I-told-you-so. "Aw, I'm sorry—but I'm sure Sis will get over it eventually. Soon she'll be glad you're back!"

Falco nodded weakly, a storm cloud boiling over his head. "Fat chance of that…" he mumbled. He wiped the bridge of his beak with a sleeve. "Say, Kitt, would you mind giving me a minute? I sorta want to be alone for a while."

Kitt nodded. "'Course, I-I understand. I'll give you some space. But… you promise not to go anywhere without me, right? I mean, you only just came back, and it'd suck if you left without us hanging out some more."

Falco waved him off, grunting. "I'll be around. Got business here that should take at least a couple a' days. But for right now, I… need some time to chill. Alone."

The feline took a step back. "Alright, gotcha. I've got some deliveries to make down at the shipyard, so if you need me, you can find me there. Catch ya later!"

"See ya," Falco dourly returned. Kitt set off down the sidewalk and disappeared into the fog, only to be replaced by other pedestrians travelling in and out of it.

Releasing a defeated sigh, Falco walked into the alley behind the garage. He knew Katt would tear him limb-from-limb if she found him still hanging around, but for some reason he felt drawn to Pietro's shop. It was like he was paralyzed; he couldn't approach Katt again, but he also felt unable to give up and abandon her, either. This sucked…

He leaned against the corner near the entrance, just out of sight around it. By now, the poisonous cloud had drifted past, and the air smelled nowhere near as foul. Falco patted around his jacket till he found the sample vial he'd taken from the shipment of Venomian chemicals. He held the glass up to the light, studying the milky, iridescent substance in front of a streetlamp.

It felt so strange, returning to Zoness without a welcoming committee. On Corneria, he was considered a hero; in his hometown, little more than a small-time punk. Regardless of becoming a war-hero, he'd still abandoned his friends years ago. He'd let them down. Unlike Lylat, he failed to make a mark on District 13. No one remembered him. His friends had all moved on like he never existed. He wanted to be mad at them for turning their backs on him, but he knew whose fault that really was, and his warped reflection was staring back at him from the curved glass of the sample vial.

"…You piece a' shit."

Suddenly, he didn't care about getting those drugs checked anymore; they could wait. He just wanted to feel… connected, again. Connected like he was with Star Fox. Connected like he was with the Free Birds. Connected like he had been with Katt—but he knew all of those bridges were burned: every single one.

He was alone, and he had no one to blame but himself.

He wished his favorite bar was still standing so he could drown his sorrows. He wished he could get his hands on some of that silly Allusion shit like everyone else, though maybe reliving the past would only hurt him, too.

Without further hesitation, Falco popped the top off the vial. He had no idea what it would do to him, and frankly didn't care. With any luck it would kill him, or at least numb him for a while. He drank a small portion, but it was enough to taste the flavor: briny yet sweet, with a potent, sour tinge. To his surprise, it tasted kind of familiar, but he couldn't place it—certainly not with just a few drops.

With a sickening feeling of dread in his stomach, Falco resealed the vial and slipped it back into his jacket. He lit a cigarette and blew a swirling cloud of smoke in the air to top it off. One might tell you smoking was bad for your health, but it didn't matter in District 13. At least, not anymore. It wasn't much worse than the rancid air he would be breathing normally. After all, pollution was a sacrament here, and he was contributing his part to the troposphere.

Now he began to feel a little lightheaded; he felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. Okay, maybe that wasn't such a good idea. Shoulda settled for the cig. He began to worry what the chemical might do to him—but of course it was too late now. Maybe it'd turn him into a monstrous bioweapon, or somethin'. He'd begin transforming any second now.

In a few minutes, however, the calming effect of the drug and cigarette took hold, and Falco felt his anxiety dissipating like the mist. He let go of himself and instead looked outward, taking in the street corner. It was beginning to rain; the cool drops welcome to cut the muggy air, though they hissed disconcertingly whenever they landed against something. A cloud of steam steadily rose from a vent in the sidewalk. Cars and bikes slowly rolled past each other, crossing in front of him as their headlights cut through the fog.

A parrot in a gas mask carried a box of air filters to an apartment door, pausing on the steps to fish the keys from his pocket. Somehow, Falco could perfectly picture him taking the filters home to his hungry kids and bed-ridden wife, who needed all the clean air they could afford.

In the alley across from him, a bum lay in a pile of trash bags; Falco knew he hadn't slept on an actual bed for two weeks, nor had a home-cooked meal in just as long.

On the opposite corner, a street musician sat against the wall beneath an awning, her legs stretched out while strumming a peaceful guitar passage. She wouldn't accept any money; she just felt like doing it. The song was… pretty, the sound of light guitar chords complementing the drops of rain that began to fall.

Everyone was trying to carry on like nothing had changed.

…It was hard to describe, but it felt like Falco was floating somewhere up above and looking down, able to see everyone's lives from an eagle-eye perspective. No, more like… he was directly in their shoes. He could feel the thin newspaper in his hands that a stranger read as he walked past the alley. He could smell the steam of savory coffee as it rose up to the face of a patron at the corner café, then felt it warming his throat on the way down. He felt a prick in the crook of his elbow, and it twitched—but that must've been someone in another alley shooting up. A car rolled past the opposite side of the street, making his shins feel damp as it splashed a person waiting at the bus stop. And from somewhere behind him in the mechanic shop, he could feel tears leaking down cheeks, along with a lump in a throat, and a heart filled with grief.

It was almost overwhelming, how aware he felt of everything—but the more he untethered from his own ego, the sensation felt manageable. So for the time being, Falco released himself, and let go, taking their experiences in…

Eventually the last drops of rain fell, and the walls of fog returned like a curtain closing. Mirror-like puddles were left behind, reflecting the sky above through a translucent rainbow film. Rivulets of rainwater rushed through the cracks in the asphalt, converging together till they flowed between the bars of rusted drain covers.

Another car drove by, splashing water at the avian's feet. It hissed and steamed slightly; the precipitation here wasn't exactly the cleanest. Falco blinked, back in his own shoes again—and feeling disappointed. For a moment he'd felt complete; like he'd been searching for this something his entire life. But once he'd gotten a tantalizing taste, it was just as quickly ripped away. He felt alone again, left with only the aftertaste of emotions that didn't belong to him.

A back door noisily creaked open before slamming shut. Falco flicked the cig away and looked to his right, noticing Katt leaving the shop. For a second, he caught a glimpse of her red eyes before she reached up and wiped at them. Then she turned her hunched shoulders to him and walked the other direction, slinking between the alleys. She hadn't noticed.

Falco wanted to be angry at her; to verbally bite her head off for throwing a wrench at him and making those accusations—but he no longer could be mad. For once, somehow, he understood a sliver of what she felt. He took a step forward, raising his wing and preparing to call out, but he caught himself and clamped his beak shut. No, not yet. She's going somewhere…

Falco began trailing Katt at a distance, keeping in the shadows a good fifteen yards behind her like a stalker. After a few blocks, he realized she was headed to the junkyard. There were several scattered across District 13, but the closest one they frequented as kids was along the north coast.

Katt ducked through a hole in the chain link fence that enclosed the dump, while Falco hung back, letting her put more space between them. He lost sight of her pink ears and tail over the trash heaps, but he guessed he'd find her near one of their old haunts: an accidental, Stonehenge-like structure made from a car chassis stacked atop a vending machine and a refrigerator. As he got closer, Falco grew nervous and decided to keep quiet till the last second.

He peaked over the last heap, spotting Katt sitting at the bottom of the ditch. Her back was to him, her left sleeve rolled up. He couldn't see what she was doing, but he didn't have to. He knew, and it made him clench his beak.

He retreated to the base of the heap and strolled around it, intentionally making a clatter and whistling during his approach. When he rounded the corner, Katt shot to her feet, letting her sleeve fall back into place.

"F-Falco!" she exclaimed. She dropped something in her surprise, but discretely shoved it beneath a plastic toilet seat with her foot.

"Oh… hey," he returned, pulling up with his hands in his pockets. "Didn't think you'd be here," he lied. "What're you doin'?"

Katt's cheeks reddened beneath her fur, and she looked down in shame. "I uh…" She gulped. "Just going scrapping. That's all."

She reached up and wiped at her eyes, trying to conceal the act from Falco. His heart stopped for a minute, his gut churning in anticipation of what she might do. After all, she'd nearly pegged him with a wrench a half hour ago. But something about her was different now; most of her rage seemed to have collapsed into melancholy, and somehow he'd sensed that even before she left the shop.

"Anything in particular you're looking for?"

She nodded. "Bruiser needs some repairs, but I don't have the parts. I've been looking for 'em for a while, no luck."

It was hard for Falco to hear Bruiser wasn't working anymore; almost as bad as hearing about Old Man Pietro's death. He was the pet project of the old mechanic and his young assistant; they weren't able to afford a proper service robot like ROB 64, so they had to construct him with any parts that were available: a mangled ship robot saved from a trash compactor; a few extra gears left over from a repair job; a vocoder box swiped from a vending machine… the list went on. He had a patchwork personality all his own, and the Free Birds regarded him as an honorary member.

"Damn, busted again, huh? That's a shame…"

Falco and Katt stood facing each other for a few moments, but not meeting the others eyes or daring to speak. They couldn't even move, trapped between their pride and the feelings they tried to ignore.

Finally Katt cleared her throat and scuffed her boot. "So, um… wanna help?"

Falco felt his heart soar at the invitation, his fear abating—but outwardly he just shrugged. "Sure, I guess. Nothin' better to do…"

Katt looked up at him, knowing that wasn't true. She could have easily brought up his "mission," but she didn't. She passed him and led the way out of the ditch, and together they ventured into the rest of the junkyard.

"Geez, it's bigger than I remember," Falco said. "Usually stuff seems to shrink when you get older."

He followed behind Katt, using his wings to balance as they stepped over the debris. Being a felid, Katt was much more agile; her tail swished back and forth while she hopped from object to object, rusted car to discarded refrigerator. It was hard to describe what was in the junkyard because, well, everything was in the junkyard. Like a black hole, it was the final destination of all matter in the world. There were banged-up vehicles, skeletal carcasses of machinery, scraps of metal twisted beyond recognition, broken tools, and rotten food. A mass grave for the holocaust of time. It was entropy. Everything fell apart.

But Falco was used to scrapping. It was a ritual for everyone who grew up in 13. And once in a while, he'd get his hands on a real prize and go home happier than if he'd won the lottery.

Eventually Katt stopped, choosing a sector close to the open sea to search through. The acidic surf crashed onto the shore, but they were far enough away to be safe from the spray of the waves. They stood behind a dune—a mountain, even—of garbage that isolated them from the rest of the city.

"This is where I left off," Katt explained. "We can pickup here."

Falco began poking through the piles of refuse with his foot. "Anything you're looking for specifically? Or just robotics in general?"

Katt rattled off a few parts, counting them on her fingers. "28-centimeter shoulder gear, 3-axis accelerometer, and a 16-centimeter linear actuator: roughly. All of the other parts I've found replacements for."

The pheasant whistled. "That's a tall order, but we'll see."

They set to work scouring the garbage heap for the parts, but their attention was elsewhere than on their scavenger hunt. Whenever they picked up a case of tools or a bolus of wires and machine parts, they'd steal a glance at each other. If caught, they'd both look away quickly and pretend to be focused on their catch.

After a few minutes of bending over to sift through the rubble, Falco straightened up and wiped the specks of seawater from his brow. He happened to look up at the exact moment the clouds parted and allowed a clear view of the sky. It was getting into the evening now, almost sunset: dark enough so that he could see a network of stars orbiting the planet. They sparkled like gold flecks reminiscent of holiday lights or fireflies. Their movement through the heavens was almost imperceptible.

"Those the refugee ships?" he asked.

Katt glanced at him, then followed his line of sight up.

"Yeah. Anyone who could afford to leave, at least. Most of the wealthiest left Zoness after its image as Lylat's tourist destination was ruined. Those who had the money retreated to planetary orbit. Now they float safely above the clouds while we wallow in the muck."

"Geez…" Falco was taken aback by the vitriol in her words. "Ain't Corneria sending aid?"

"Pff, like they care. They got more important stuff to see to than a former vacation planet populated by lowlifes and mob bosses, and anything they send just gets filtered through them." She gestured upwards at the pleasure cruisers and yachts. "They let some filtration masks trickle down: maybe some food and medicine—but it ain't much. No, they think we're too far gone: that there's no fixing us. You can hardly tell the difference between Zoness and Venom now."

Falco shivered. "Believe me, it's still a long ways off from Venom. It ain't that far gone. Maybe if you'd flown with us all the way, you would've seen how bad it gets."

Katt shrugged. "Eh, guess I could've…" Her eyes flicked back to him. "But I was needed around here."

Falco cleared his throat, trying to think of something to change the subject to. Eventually, his eyes landed on a busted, toy ship. "So… how's the upkeep on that fighter of yours?"

The feline's ears raised. "The Cat's Paw?"

"Yeah, the garish, bubble-gum pink one that matches your fur. You still fly her much?"

Katt sighed. "No. Had to sell it for… supplies."

"Aw, that's a shame. You shoulda kept it; you flew pretty well. Maybe coulda caught up to me one day."

"I've spent my whole life trying to catch up to you, Falco. It just isn't worth it."

"Ah." The avian thought for a bit. "…Is that why you tried flirting with Fox instead?"

Katt smirked knowingly. "What, did I make you jealous?"

"What? Psh, nahhh. Of course not…" He pretended to be focused on a tangled mess of wires, flipping the junk over in his hands. "It's just… were you really… into Fox?"

Katt snorted, and for the first time he saw her smile. "Oh my god, it did get to you!" She laughed a bit, then shook her head. The mirth disappeared from her face, and she looked away. "I'm sorry, Falco. If you really are the jealous type, maybe I was never the best girl for you. You know how I am; you'd only get… hurt."

Falco grinned sheepishly. "Heh, yeah, guess I did have a bit of a jealous habit. So, was that your goal? Trying to rile me up?"

She sighed. "Falco, I'll level with you. I… wanted to get back at you for leaving like you did. I thought you didn't care about me anymore, so I wanted to see if you missed me as much as I still missed you." Katt set down the handful of car parts and leaned back against the hood, folding her hands over her chest. "What you did… it hurt. I know we all shared the same dream of leaving this floating island of junk one day, but once your chance finally came… I wasn't prepared for you to actually take it. I didn't think I'd be the one left behind. I thought I meant more to you… I thought I meant something—anything."

She sniffed and hid her face, wiping away another unbidden tear. "I've known you since we were kids. You want people to trust you and open up to you, but you're too scared of doing the same. That's why it never worked out between us—or anyone else you hooked up with. You hang out with friends and throw parties, and I know you saw other girls whenever we fought—but they never lasted long, either. Everything's just a fling for you. You flit from one group to the next, never settling down. The Free Birds, McCloud's group, all those other odd piloting jobs… You never want to be the one left behind, dumped and forgotten like you're… you're worthless," she seethed. "So, you always made sure to leave first. You were scared after Grimmer defeated you that the rest of the Free Birds would abandon you, so you beat us to it. You never gave us the chance to prove we really had your back: to prove we weren't like you."

Falco looked down at his feet, cringing a little at all the rotten fruit and broken glass. He'd promised himself he wouldn't apologize. Falco never apologized. He was the Falco Lombardi. He was too busy moving forward to waste time looking back. He was a free bird, and free birds did whatever the hell they wanted. If his moving on to a better and brighter future meant someone else got hurt, tough luck; that was their problem. They couldn't keep him from leaving the nest. No, apologizing was beneath—

"I'm sorry," he blurted out.

Katt met his eyes, mouth agape.

"I think I learned a little somethin' out there." He gazed out above the garbage-strewn sea towards the gray clouds. "I spent all my life trying to leave and become a pilot. When I finally got my ticket off Zoness, I was so excited. I joined my first merc team, but… I never really fit in. Never liked the guys in it, and it was only ever for the money. I drifted from merc outfits to gangs, then took a few solo jobs. Finally I found Star Fox, and I really looked up to those guys: Fox and Slip and Peppy. They didn't really have a home, either, but wherever they were felt like home to me. Just like… whenever I was with you."

He scuffed his boot through the garbage. "Anyway, now I'm here again, back in 13, and I don't really know why. I had people showering me in attention, and plenty a' jobs lined up, but… somethin' made me come back here." Falco began to approach her. "I think… I think I'd rather live in this dump than a ritzy Cornerian apartment, as long as… as long as you're… here…"

He reached her, beginning to put his wings around her shoulders. Katt closed her eyes for a second, anticipating his embrace… but before he could pull her tight, she shoved him back with her arms. Falco blinked, looking hurt. Katt licked her lips, struggling to think of a response.

"Wait… we shouldn't. It was never going to work between us. I've moved on, Falco; I think you should, too."

He stepped back and gave her some space, nodding slowly as he felt a lump grow in his throat. "Oh… yeah. Sorry, I thought that—"

"No, it's okay. But I'm glad you understand."

Katt tore her gaze off him and returned to scouring the junkyard, leaving Falco to stand behind her with a storm of emotions in his head. Dammit, they were so close… yet something was still holding her back. Something had her tied and bound, and it was a deeper issue than she was willing to confide in him.

"…Hey, here's something."

Katt's ears perked, and she turned. "What?"

Falco scaled a nearby heap and dug a handful of sparkling parts out of the top. "These almost slipped by…" He turned and closed them in his wings, reaching down to offer them to Katt.

Curious, the feline approached. She stretched her arms up to accept, but in the process, her left sleeve fell down to her elbow. At once Falco grabbed her wrist and held her arm aloft, revealing furless patches of dried, scale-like flesh in the crook of her elbow. They were shaped like manacles.

Katt's eyes widened at her mistake, and she tore her arm free, shoving her sleeve down. Nursing her elbow, she scowled and looked away, her ears folded down. But it was too late; he'd clearly seen.

"Really moved on, huh?"

Katt gnashed her teeth. "You don't know anything!" she snapped at him.

Falco jumped, taken aback by her outburst. The feline realized she'd startled him and re-composed herself, speaking quieter now. "Sorry. It's just… everything's so much right now. Looking out for Kitt and the shop; Grimmer's thugs everywhere; trying to survive with all this shit in the air and water… Sometimes, it's hard to keep looking forward, rather than looking back to when everything seemed perfect. What you saw is… old. I stopped chasing the dragon a while ago."

He raised an eyebrow, but didn't press the issue. "…I wish you'd let me stay for a while," he said instead, gently.

Katt straightened out her sleeves and crossed her arms, looking at him. "How long do you need?" she asked, rather cold, but gently.

He shrugged. "Just long enough for Pukes to analyze the stuff I brought."

Katt bit her lip, sizing him up-and-down. "…F-Fine. You can crash at the shop—but only until you finish your business here. Money's tight as-is."

"I can pay. I won't be free-loadin'."

She held up a finger. "But you have to promise to behave. Don't let anyone outside our circle know you're back. I don't want to get Grimmer and his thugs mad; I had enough trouble keeping them off our tails since you left, and I'm… in an amicable position with them now. And keep your nose where it belongs; don't go following me around like that again. I won't pry into your affairs as long as you don't pry into mine."

Falco sighed; it wasn't an ideal arrangement, but it was a better spot than they were at this morning. "Deal!"

"…Well, I don't know what I expected."

A couple hours later, he lay in the backseat of a broken-down car, suspended precariously a dozen feet above the garage floor. Katt stared up at him, hands on her hips. Another grin formed on her face. "Aww, quit complainin'. You always said you preferred the air…"

Falco smirked and rolled his eyes, but decided not to grumble. Beggars couldn't be choosers.

He heard Katt's footsteps against the concrete echo as she left the garage—and even her poorly-muffled snickering. Then the lights switched off, plunging the interior into darkness.

"Goodnight, Falco…" she said, quietly.

Those two simple words made him smile, filling him with hope. "Night."

The door shut, closing off the beam of light that lit the garage. Falco sighed and lay back across the car seat, arms folded behind his head as he stared up at the ceiling. Well, it's not the weirdest place I've slept. Not by a long shot.

Now left to his own devices, he reached up and slid the moonroof open, exposing the garage's ceiling. Through a skylight in the roof, he was able to see the dark underside of the night clouds, and occasionally a twinkle of stars or ships between them. He sighed as he looked up longingly.

"Fox, wherever you are, I hope things are going better for you than they are for me…"

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Fox's mind hung suspended in a dark chamber. Everything was black and fuzzy: indiscernible. He heard only silence at first, but the quiet grew louder and louder in his ears, ringing like the unbearable klaxon on a disintegrating ship. Worst of all was the pain he felt in his head, which almost matched the migraines he experienced since the war, but not quite; the concentration of pain wasn't behind his eyes, but at the top of his skull.

Fox moaned. He forced his bleary eyes open to a glazed distortion of the world. He knelt on a hard stone surface: dull and silver like shale, and cool to the touch. The rocky shelf was clouded by more of that cursed rosy mist. He turned to look over his shoulder, spotting a precipice not too far behind him. He was able to make out treetops and perhaps a drop off to the lake below, but something restrained him from turning around further.

To Fox's horror, he realized he was bound on his knees to what felt like a large gravestone pressed up against his back. His arms were tied with ropes behind him, and his wrists already chaffed from the coarse material. To make matters worse, his clothes and gear were gone, and the cold moisture in the air made him shiver.

Now it all came flooding back to him: the lake, the light that led himself and Krystal to the opposite shore, and the veiled figures who accosted them once they reached it. The events ended with one of the hooded attackers bringing their wooden staff crashing down on his head, and Fox involuntarily flinched at the memory alone. And now he was bound to a rock out in the middle of the wilderness at the complete mercy of his captors.

"Shhhhit…"

He had to work fast, before they showed up to execute him… or worse. Desperately he tried to break free, but the ropes were securely looped through a hole carved in the weight stone. He tried pulling his hands through their bindings; he gritted his teeth and strained with all his might, his arms trembling from the exertion, but he only tore his fur and flesh against the abrasive cords. Unless he dislocated his thumbs or gnawed his hands off, escape was unlikely—and he kind of needed his hands.

The fact was he had to escape, or risk torture and eventual death. And Krystal was still out there, possibly in the same bind! He had to find her before they hurt her!

With renewed urgency, Fox braced his feet against the shale floor and his back against the weight stone. He grit his teeth and pushed with all his might, muscles straining as he felt the stone wiggle—

"Koe, herre-herre!"

The todd froze in place, eyes widening. His heart sank when he looked up to find his captors assembled a significant distance away, ruining any chance he had of escape. They stood shoulder to cloaked shoulder, watching him from the opposite side of the stone plateau. Even though their faces were covered by hoods and veils, something about them suggested… curiosity? Uncertainty? Even… fear? For what other reason would they study him from such a distance, and for how long had they been watching?

Fox nodded down to his lack of clothes, indignant but embarrassed. "Uh, was all this really necessary?" he groaned.

One of the seven figures approached, their wooden sandals clopping against the shale. They halted a couple yards away and shrugged off their hood and veil. Fox's mouth opened slightly when he realized the figure truly was Cerinian; perhaps the same one he'd come face-to-face with earlier. She had dark azure fur and piercing eyes like aquamarine gems. Simultaneously, Fox was both struck by her beauty and seized with fear. Her bearing, looks, and regal stature all bellied her humble attire, as if she were secretly royalty.

"You the one that clobbered me?" he growled.

"Quai ko koe?" her sharp voice rang out, echoing among the cliffs.

Fox flinched. "I'm sorry ma'am, but I can't understand what the hell you're saying."

The vixen's eyes narrowed. "I said, who are you?"

His ears shot up. "You… you speak Cornerian! But how? I can't feel you in my mind like when—"

"Be silent! Unless I ask you a question, rāgata, you are not to speak. Now, answer me; who are you?"

The vulpine cleared his throat. "I'm Fox McCloud. You uh… may have heard of me?" He gave his best winning smile, but he was already cringing.

The Cerinian's face remained unamused, her glare just as piercing as ever.

"Well, okay then; guess my reputation didn't precede me. Uh, I come from across the stars, you might say: another system that's lightyears away. Last year the planets of that system were invaded by an evil force. During that time, I was a…" Mercenary? Nah, too selfish. "…A revered soldier. I rescued my people from the rule of a mad emperor, and they look up to me as a war hero. Did you, uh, understand all of that?" he finished, timidly.

The vixen's lips curled back in a snarl.

"I-I'm sorry if I insulted your intelligence!" he quickly corrected himself. "It's just, by your clothes, you resemble people on my homeworld from hundreds of year ago; people who didn't know about star systems and planets and how to travel between them. I meant no disrespect."

She smirked. "I assure you, our garb is deceiving."

"It is pretty and all," Fox mumbled. "But can I ask who you are?"

"I shall allow this one question. I am Mother Namah, the abbess of the village you seek."

Fox's eyes widened. "There's a whole village around here? One full of other Cerinians? Is that where you took—?"

"Enough!" the woman barked. She stepped a few paces closer till she could reach out and touch him. Fox felt intimidated, but he held his ground, refusing to shrink back. "You sound an awful lot like a spy. What are you doing here, soldier? What are your intentions?"

"Look, I'm not your enemy!" he said forcefully. "I don't mean you any harm! I think there's been some misunderstanding."

"Then why were you hunting for our hidden sanctuary?" she shot back.

"'Hunting' is such a strong word. I was just searching for it with a girl I rescued. She's a Cerinian like you who was captured years ago and taken to Lylat. I killed the man who kidnapped her and brought her back to find her home."

"Liar! You are using our sister to hunt down the rest of us. You are a scout who will summon the Lylatian army to take us away, too!"

"What? No! I'm not… I'm not with them anymore. You could even say I betrayed them. I broke my ass rescuing that girl, and now they're all after me because of it! I only wanted to bring her back here, so she could reunite with her family. Believe me, I'm not your enemy!"

Namah pointed a finger at him. "War heroes do not betray their cause overnight!"

Fox's ears lowered, and he felt ashamed. His head fell limp. "This one did…"

Namah crossed her arms. "You have only said a few words, and already your story is hard to believe; it reeks of deception."

"Then ask Krystal!" Fox burst out. "Ask the Cerinian who was with me! If anyone, you should trust one of your own. She'll tell you I'm only trying to help! And you better not have her tied up like… this."

"Of course not; we would never treat our sister in such a way. But you are a male rāgata and must be restrained."

"Then talk to her! She'll clear this up!"

"We… cannot ask her right now," the woman admitted, hesitantly.

Fox remembered seeing this same vixen cause Krystal to faint in the lake. Snarling, his blood boiled over, and he lunged at her. His restraints pulled taught before he could reach her, but his bared fangs were enough to strike fear into the woman's eyes for at least a second.

"What did you do to her!?" he yelled.

The abbess stumbled backwards as his voice echoed between the cliffs, but one of the other Cerinians came to her aid. They took a few steps forward and waved their hand, causing Fox to fly backwards. He slammed against the weight stone, the hard surface of which cut into his back. He felt invisible fingers constricting against his throat, and he violently wiggled to be free of whatever held him in place, but nothing seemed to work. How does one fight what isn't there, even when bound?

But when his lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen, and his eyes started to roll back, Namah waved for her ally to stop. The cloaked figure bowed and receded into the ranks of others, and the vice-like grip around Fox's throat dissipated. The vulpine slumped forward, wheezing for air.

"You show concern for the girl, whether genuine or not," the leader continued as if nothing happened. "Rest assured, we have not harmed her. I had to subdue her mind to keep her from fighting on your behalf; your control over her must be strong if she would face all seven of us for your sake. We kept anyone from getting hurt."

"Hey, my head's still ringing."

"Unfortunately, she is still sleeping back at our sanctuary. She will recover in due time, but I do not know if I shocked her mind enough to wrest her from your control. When she awakens, we will confirm her side of the story. Now that she is with us, she is truly safe from the likes of you."

The Cerinian walked forward again till she towered over him. Her cloak fell open to reveal a gorgeously-woven kimono of bright purple and blue silk; it suited her beauty and regality far more than the dull, outer cloak did.

"Now, tell me when the rest of your people are planning to attack," she ordered. "How many are there? What weapons do they have?"

Fox sputtered, at a loss for what to do. "This is ridiculous! How am I to respond to that when everything you're assuming is dead wrong?"

"You are naïve if you think you can fool us."

The todd stared defiantly up into her eyes for a few tense moments. Then he merely sighed and fell back against the weight stone, resting his eyes. "I'm done talking. I can see I'll get nowhere, so I'll just wait until Krystal wakes up. You're not getting anything else from me."

"We can make you talk."

"Fuck you. Good luck torturing it out of me, because you won't get any answers that satisfy you."

"Torture is unnecessary," Namah laughed, "but more importantly, we frown upon such reprehensible measures. Your mind will tell us all."

Fox relaxed a bit; at least they wouldn't try to break him with physical pain. His breather was short-lived, as the Cerinian leaned over and cupped his chin with her fingers, tilting his head back so he looked her in the eye. He focused in on her irises of aquamarine fire, gulping; he did not like the intense look contained within.

She grinned triumphantly. "I sense fear in you—and I don't need to read your thoughts to see that."

Fox felt the sphere of her mind press against his own. How do you block a mind-reader, exactly? he asked himself. It felt like his experience with Krystal all over again, except instead of keeping a curious girl out of his head, he had to stop a malevolent captor with years of experience. He tried focusing all of his thoughts into one single image, but he had trouble deciding on what exactly. At first he focused on solid objects that represented barriers: nondescript walls, a block he used to play with as a child—wait, nothing from his childhood! A metal bulkhead inside the Great Fox, the cube of melted bodies far away in the desert—no, not that either!

Giving up, he attempted to empty his mind of all conscious thought, replacing it with stimuli from his senses: the rustling of leaves that drifted to his ears, the damp air against his fur, the rough stone beneath his legs, the Cerinian's firm fingers holding his chin, her intimidating, piercing eyes…

"Your attempts to hide your thoughts are futile. I can easily see through them."

Fox's eyes jammed shut when she penetrated his clumsy defenses, and a shiver ran down his spine. All of his muscles tensed at once. Namah's mind effortlessly drifted into his, phasing together in a way that physical objects couldn't; his thoughts and memories were now at her mercy, and she could see everything his imagination conjured.

He felt the chains of neurons in his brain activating without his bidding, bringing up strings of episodic memories. It had hurt once when Krystal saw them; it hurt even more now that the Cerinian reopened his wounds and poured salt in their bleeding gaps.

Namah skimmed through his childhood with deadly accuracy, discarding bits or entire spans of years she deemed irrelevant while slowing down enough to see what she thought important. But while Fox's life flashed before his eyes like a train passing, he had the burning feeling that she was biased in what she chose to view, as if only confirming her preconceived theories. She paid attention to the negatives while ignoring the good he'd done. For every person he helped, for every life he saved, there was always a tiny flaw that she lingered on which erased his past deeds.

Fox felt like he was being judged for the afterlife, with heaven rising further out of reach, and the gates of hell swiftly bubbling up to claim him. So many of these memories he'd suppressed himself, but now she dug them up and lay them out in the sunlight for all to see, their shriveled, demonic forms curled in fetal positions, hiding from the light. Tears began to pour from his eyes, and waves of shame broke over him. She was somehow convincing the savior of Lylat he was little more than a flea; a betrayer of all his ideals and those friends he held dear. Or maybe, he'd always believed those things himself.

When Namah released the veins of his memories, Fox collapsed on the stone ground, curling up in a tight ball with his tail protectively wrapped around his legs. He quietly sobbed away, tears making faint noises as they dripped to the shale.

The Cerinian backed away, folding her arms in her cloak sleeves. "I have seen all I need to. You prepared a façade of heroic deeds to cover your own shortcomings. You didn't grow up to be a soldier or righteous knight; you were a mercenary for hire. Personal revenge drove you to kill this emperor—not love for innocent people. Then, when you had fame and fortune, you dropped out of the game and lived a debaucherous life full of sin and self-pleasure."

"No…" Fox whimpered.

"Once the longing for your parents returned, you kidnapped one of our sisters and brought her here. You don't care for her any more than she can lead you to your deceased mother."

"No!" he cried louder, "that's not true! Why are you set on hating me so much?!"

"I do not trust you," she coldly said. "You were involved with the project to exploit my people, and you forced an innocent girl to bring you to us."

"I'm not a threat to you, I've turned my back on everything! I-I need a new home just as much as she does!"

"Oh, but you are a threat."

"I'm just one man," he cried. "What can I do against people with your powers?"

"You pretend to be ignorant of your own potential. We in the valley have met many who had greater strength than us, but together my sisters and I defeated them. Young men like you especially struggle to contain themselves and keep from hurting others. We have yet to learn if aliens such as yourself have a similar power."

"But… but that's ridiculous! How could someone have enough power to—"

Namah dove back into his mind, fishing out the memory of the black, cube-shaped monolith and holding it aloft for him to see. "This… this is what you could do to us. This is what you could do to my people if we let you anywhere near our village."

She pointed into the pink mists, which instantly parted like a curtain. They revealed another overlook like the one they currently stood atop, but it was shattered into thousands of fragments.

"Behold, the fate of our last prisoner. He claimed he had no powers, either. But when we tested him, he lashed out, nearly killing one of my sisters, and we were forced to execute him. That is why we keep you so far away from our village; that is why we parley with you in such large numbers; that is why my sisters dare not approach."

"I don't want to hurt you," Fox pleaded, "I swear I'm not your enemy! I can't do anything close to that."

Namah paused for a moment, face softening in sympathy for this pathetic mess before her. After a few moments, she sighed and looked down. "If you can prove you do not possess the Curse, or at least, you can control its dangerous whims, we will let you live."

"But, but how? How am I supposed to prove a negative?"

"If you can stay here for three days, you will have satisfied me. If you do not have the Curse, you will not be able to break free and escape. Or, if you do have powers and can keep them in check that long, you will have proven your mastery over them—though none who come from the wastelands usually can."

"What happens after I last three days?" Fox asked. "What do you do with us then? Can we stay in your village?"

Namah glanced over her shoulder at the other hooded figures. "If you pass the test… perhaps you and your companion will be allowed to shelter with us."

Fox struggled to his knees and met the Cerinian's gaze head on. He set his teeth firmly. "Alright. I accept—not that you're giving me any choice. Three days is nothing."

"We shall see how long your conviction lasts." The woman spun around, her cloak furling behind her, before she began to walk towards her 'sisters.'

"Wait!" Fox called. "Just one more question, please."

Namah paused, but did not look back. "Speak."

"That apparition you used to lure me into the ambush… it looked like my mom. How did you know to use her?"

The Cerinian still wouldn't meet his eyes. "Because… we looked into your heart, Fox, and saw that you missed her the most."

He didn't answer back. The todd just nodded to himself, understanding their actions—but not forgiving them.

"I'm sorry, child."

He looked up in surprise before the seven cloaked Cerinians vanished into the mist, leaving him alone. His shoulders slumped as he let out a sigh, then he flinched when the throbbing pain inflicted by Namah's staff returned to his skull.

These were going to be a miserable three days by himself. Wherever Falco and the others were, he hoped things were going better for them than they were for him…