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Mission No. 43

Cerinia
Altaira Valley

"Anadyomene"

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Fox gently laid a bouquet of flowers at the statue's feet. The somber gesture sent him back eight years to when he'd done the same thing at his mother's funeral. He remembered crying himself to sleep the first few nights, his only comfort being the glowing green nebula that appeared outside his bedroom window one evening.

He never even made the connection at the time.

When he finally found out the casket was empty, and his father had been taking him to lay flowers over a vacant grave every year, it wasn't really a sudden revelation: just a gradual realization that came hand-in-hand with acceptance. She wasn't actually sleeping beneath the tombstone. It was just a memorial, a representation: the best they could do for her. Afterwards, visiting the cemetery felt so… hollow. As hollow as the casket beneath the soil.

He straightened up, taking in the statue of his mother. The rays of the midday sun filtered through the trees, warming the cold dead stone of her cheek so that, when he brushed it, it almost felt real.

It wasn't what he'd hoped for, but at least it was closure. Maybe he could move on now that he'd finally laid the flowers by her true resting place instead of an honorary one.

Bowing his head and closing his eyes, he offered her a halting, awkward prayer. Wherever she was, he hoped it reached her.

When he finished, Fox made to turn and leave the Garden of Tears, but paused. The smooth, tomb-like stone resting against the otherwise moss-covered cliff face behind his mother caught his eye. He'd have to ask Itoro or Namah what that really was sometime.

He skirted the Hall of the Matrons completely and made for the winding path that led down the hill. But at the top of the path he halted, for a Cerinian girl was headed up the stairs towards him. He stepped aside to make room for her, only to realize she was—

"Krystal?"

At the sound of his voice, she looked up. Her eyes brightened when she saw him. She lifted the hem of her robe and hurried the rest of the way up, coming to a stop right in front of him to curtsy.

"I-I almost didn't recognize you!" Fox stuttered.

The vixen had gone all-out decorating herself for the festival that day. She wore a pink, shoulderless kimono emblazoned with flowers that shimmered in the light whenever she moved. A violet ribbon kept the front closed, tied in back with a bow that resembled a butterfly's wings. Her hair was done up in an elaborate bun, but several wavy locks were left free to hang down her face. Overall the hairdo made her look older and more mature than she really was; it put his casual ponytail to shame.

Krystal spun in a practiced circle. "Well? What do you think?"

The todd swallowed. "You look beautiful, Krystal." His compliment was underwhelming, but the way he clammed up while gawking must've spoken volumes.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Then, pretending to fiddle with the sleeves of her robe, she asked louder, "Are you staying in the village for the festival?"

Fox looked down at his feet. He still didn't feel welcome around the rest of the Cerinians, and he was worried he might set them on edge if he were to stay, darkening their festivities. "I wasn't exactly planning on it; I was just going to help Itoro do more housework."

Krystal's expression fell, and she looked at him pityingly. She must have been putting together why he came to visit the Garden of Tears and why he wouldn't be staying. He tried to mask his sadness with a half-assed smile, but it was too late.

"Nonsense!" she exclaimed. "They only hold this festival once every few hundred days! It will feel like forever before you get another chance!" She reached out and took his hand, rubbing his knuckles while looking up into his downcast eyes. "Please? I'm sure you'll have fun. I was hoping we could enjoy it together…"

Eventually, Fox squeezed her hand back. "Alright, I'll stay… though I feel a bit under-dressed for the occasion," he chuckled, gesturing at his white robes.

"It's fine. I don't think any of the pretty robes in the village suit you—you look better without them for some reason. Now come on!"

She turned and set off down the steps, strengthening her grip on Fox's paw and pulling him after her.

The festival was in full-swing by the time they arrived at the base of the hill. The Cerinians had decorated the village with paper-thin reed lamps, hanging garlands of flowers, and woven tapestries that depicted its founding. Smiths set out displays of hand-crafted metal trinkets and baubles, tailors presented their finest, most intricate robes, and botanists livened up the streets with exotic flowers they'd bred. But what struck Fox most of all were the wonderful scents coming from some of the establishments. Bakers stockpiled cakes and candies in elaborate displays, their delicious smells wafting onto the street to tempt passersby inside.

Every Cerinian they passed, from elder to child, wore exquisitely-woven robes like Krystal. They all looked at Fox funny, but for the most part they no longer betrayed fear. Rather than watch him warily, they now merely stole glances at him out of curiosity. In the three weeks he'd been in Altaira, word had spread about the strange alien and the girl he'd brought to their doorstep. Some of the Cerinians were used to seeing him run errands for old man Itoro, while others noticed him sparring with Kaia. By now they'd seen he wasn't much of a monster at all; he only differed from the rest of the Cerinians in his golden fur, eye color, and physical shape.

Still, the dozens of inquisitive looks and the alienation they made him feel did not escape Krystal. She took his arm in hers and stayed glued to his side wherever they went, trying to abate any lingering fears the other Cerinians might have by showing them how safe he was.

They moved from building to building, watching the craftswomen work in their professions or tasting different treats. One of the establishments they stopped at specialized in flavored honeys; beekeepers brought hives and colonies in from the fields and showed them off to festival-goers. Fox and Krystal tasted the sweet, sticky syrup, which glistened blue and green rather than golden yellow. But Krystal seemed more captivated by the bees themselves; the little bumbling creatures buzzed lazily around their honeycombs, sometimes alighting on the vixen's robe.

"Why do these funny little things like me so much?" she asked, trying to catch one in her hands.

"Probably because of all the flowers stitched on your robe," Fox joked. He laughed a bit, but stopped when one of the insects flew right up to his face and hovered there. He sucked in a breath and held perfectly still, only for the shining black bee to land on his nose and settle down. He went cross-eyed just trying to see the little fella. When Krystal noticed the plump insect masquerading as Fox's button nose, she pointed and laughed at the two of them.

Fox shared the laugh as well, then nervously asked one of the beekeepers, "These don't sting, right?"

Krystal stopped giggling long enough to translate his question, and the elderly keeper answered nonchalantly. Krystal sounded embarrassed when she relayed her response. "She says they only sting foreigners."

The keeper winked at him.

"Haha… oh."

After Krystal had played enough with the bees, they set out from the honey stand. She skipped ahead with a youthful spring in her step—even with the lengthy robe hampering her movements. Fox watched as she danced with childlike energy, though her motions were equally graceful and fluid, most likely a result of her training with the Kaitaki. She reminded him of days when he was younger and more carefree, before everything that happened…

Man, she's come a long way, he realized. When he first freed her from the cryochamber, she could barely walk normally due to disuse of her legs. Traversing the wastelands of Venom was especially hard on her, and the way she took shaky, uncertain steps still lingered in his mind. Even while walking around the steel corridors of the Great Fox, her gait was halting and timid at times, as if she were out of practice.

How often did they let her out of that chamber? he wondered. For someone who'd been imprisoned all her life, even getting to move about freely like this was exhilarating on its own. So much of the outside world was alien to her, and so little of it she understood; but that didn't hinder her from enjoying it—a fact not lost on Fox as he watched her playfully skip between the houses and greet her sisters. She was bright and perceptive for someone of her naïveté; she grasped how people and the world worked surprisingly fast, even settling into Cerinian society quicker than he had.

Krystal turned around, finally realizing he'd stopped to look at her. She whipped her tail around and tilted her head to the side. "What is it, Fox?"

He smiled in embarrassment when she noticed, beginning to walk again. "Sorry, it's just… I like looking at you when you're happy."

"Oh?"

"It's like… you're so full of joy that it overflows to everyone around you, and I can feel glad just by staying close and catching the happiness that spills over." He laughed and scratched his ear. "I know it sounds silly, but it's true. You have that effect on people."

Krystal blinked with wide eyes for a few seconds, then rushed back to him. She held tightly to his side for the rest of their walk, as if she took what he said literally and wanted him to catch more of her joy by proximity.

They tagged along with a few groups of Cerinians, following them into the forest to where several creeks converged into a deeper stream. A modest wooden dock sat on the edge of the shore, upstream of which a rope kept a flotilla of gondolas from drifting away with the current. A few staffers used pikes to lift the rope and free one or two boats at a time, pulling them in close to the dock to let groups of friends board them before floating off downstream.

Fox and Krystal walked onto the dock, their sandals clunking against the wood beneath their feet—but Fox was surprised to see Māra already standing there.

"Was she waiting for us?" he whispered to Krystal.

The vixen shushed him. 'Yes; she'll be alone in the boat behind ours.'

'Alone?'

'You'll see…'

A pair of Cerinians held a gondola steady for them to board. Fox gingerly stepped in first before extending a hand to help Krystal in. Then the staffers handed Fox an oar, and the two of them shipped off downstream. Together they balanced out the boat; Fox crouched in back, steering their path, and Krystal seated gracefully in front.

At this time of the year, the forest stole their very breaths away. The awning of blossoms drifted by overhead, bursting with bowers of purple, pink, and white flowers that resembled a canopy over a princess' bed. Curtains of blossoming willows hung gracefully from above, gently parting for the pair of foxes as their boat drifted through. And whenever a breeze rushed through the treetops, the branches would stir and rain down gentle flurries of pastel-colored petals like snowflakes.

The dark water beneath them was covered in sprinkles of bright blossoms. The wake from the vulpines' boat and the concentric ripples expanding from landing petals caused its mirror-like surface to shimmer. The motion agitated the otherwise perfect reflection of the treetops above, and the patches of violet sky peeking through.

Fox barely had to paddle at all; he stood in back, using the wood pole to push off the shore if they came too close, but otherwise he let the stream do all the work. The current gently pushed the boat forward so that it glided over the surface of the water like a fleeting cloud.

Krystal sat in front of him, a smile gracing her face as she soaked in the canvas of soothing colors. Every once in a while she'd glance back to see his reaction—as if she thought she was dreaming and wanted to make sure he hadn't disappeared. Fox's heart soared whenever she did, for he shared the same worry. He must have accidentally swallowed some petals, for he could feel them fluttering in his stomach whenever she turned to gaze at him.

Then something caught Krystal's attention, hidden behind a curtain of pink willow fronds on the side of the stream. "Fox, please turn that way," she instructed.

The todd peered between the branches. Sure enough, floating petals mysteriously slipped beneath the leaves where a small branch split off from the rest of the creek. He then glanced at the gondola ahead of them. It was much farther downstream, and the three Cerinians aboard it wouldn't notice them slipping away—but when he looked over his shoulder, he saw Māra seated in the boat behind them, watching.

"I can't," Fox whispered, "Māra will see us sneaking off."

Krystal turned and tugged on his robe, looking up at him urgently. "She won't tell! Trust me, we'll be fine."

As if sensing their conversation, Māra smiled and waved reassuringly.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Fox struck the bottom of the creek with his oar and pushed the boat towards the hidden offshoot. The prow nosed towards the curtain of willow leaves, but it didn't look like they were going to make it; he'd acted too late.

Desperately now, Fox threw the weight of his shoulder into the oar, but the end slipped in the sediment and he lost his purchase. He went to reposition the oar and push again, but mysteriously found the boat turning sharply on its own. Jaw hanging agape, he watched as the gondola swerved and cleared the bank that split the fork by mere inches, disappearing down the smaller branch.

"I don't understand it," he murmured. "How did we turn so much…?"

He glanced at Krystal when he heard her let out a sharp exhale, but she covered her mouth when she saw him looking and turned away.

"Did… did you do that?" Fox asked.

She looked over her shoulder at him, worry in her eyes. "Please Fox, don't tell Namah. I'm not supposed to use my powers for little things like this."

"Oh, of course not!" he blurted. "Everything that happens from here on out will stay between us."

She tilted her head innocently. "Oh? And what sort of things could happen between us?"

Fox blushed and averted his gaze, hoping she wouldn't read his mind.

The smaller branch arced gradually away from the main creek, placing a wall of trees between the foxes and the rest of the passing Cerinians. Eventually they sailed so far away they couldn't hear the laughing voices, and they truly felt alone, away from any prying eyes. The outside world vanished; their reality became limited to the edges of what they could see, as if they'd slipped into a hidden dimension between the trees, or a bridge joining reality and paradise.

The stream spilled out into a large, placid pond. Here the water slowed to a lazy pace, and the gondola inched forward like a snail. Now they could take in the sights at their leisure, without the creek rushing them along. In this sheltered world, time slowed to a mere trickle, granting a small taste of eternity.

Fox turned to look upstream. "I don't think Māra or anyone else followed us. It's like she let us slip away, and got in the boat behind us so no one else would notice…" He turned back to Krystal. "Wait, did the two of you plan—?"

But the words caught in his throat.

Krystal had turned around to face him, spreading her robe hem out on the bench. A stream of pink blossoms conspicuously swirled down from the treetops, flowing back up and around the azure-furred vixen like the rings of a planet. From his vantage point, she looked like an angel; a goddess; a saint depicted with a golden halo. At once she was immeasurably beautiful, yet somehow modest and abashed: timid as she presented herself.

"Yes, Fox," she finally said, "Māra agreed to help us. I just wanted to get away from all the villagers and their prying thoughts. So let's make the most of our time here…" her eyes sparkled at him, "…shall we?"

Fox swallowed. "Um, yeah. Why not?"

Krystal relaxed, and the petals spinning around her like a hurricane dispersed, ending their dance. She pivoted on the bench, removing her sandals before raising the hem of her robe above her knees and dipping her legs in the cool water. Slowly treading her feet back and forth, she tilted her head back and let the breeze wash over her face. She closed her eyes and hummed softly, taking it all in. If Fox didn't know any better, he would've thought a nymph had climbed out of the water and arrayed herself in petals.

…But even then, he couldn't fully appreciate her beauty. Try as he might, he kept staring through her beautiful robes and carefully-done-up hair, remembering what lay beneath. Underneath that mask, he knew she was still the same frail, tortured spirit he'd found a month ago. A lump formed in his throat just thinking about it.

Noticing his darkening expression, Krystal's eyes trembled sadly at him. "Fox… stop looking at me like that. Like you're only seeing what they did to me and not… me."

He blinked; she knew.

"I'm sorry. Maybe… maybe it's best if you didn't read my mind when—"

"I didn't. I can see it on your face. You're not seeing me; you're seeing those things all over again. I should never have shown you. I knew this would happen if I let you in." Her ears flattened against her head, and her shoulders slouched. "I don't want to bring you pain whenever you look at me; I want you to feel happy, like you did earlier. I know it's hard sometimes. You still see the tattoos, and my scars, and my different-colored fur, and you see the memories because they stick with you. They stick with me, too. Sometimes whenever I look in the mirror, that's all I see. I… I don't like seeing myself, either…"

Fox swallowed, knowing all too well the pain of facing oneself in the mirror. He was familiar with the struggle, but to know someone like her felt the same way was heart-wrenching; he didn't want her to have to bear that feeling, ever.

Their boat passed a beautiful flowering bush, and Fox reacted on a whim, moving just in time to pluck a blossom from amidst the leaves. It was a soft lavender in hue, with tender, delicate petals and a fragrant aroma. Sucking in a breath, he carefully stood from his seat and sat beside Krystal. Her eyes shot up to him in surprise, but she made no move to retreat. Fox brushed a few locks of her hair aside and fixed the blossom in place; the flower perfectly complemented her light pink robes.

"I do like looking at you," he told her. "You're one of the most beautiful people I've met. I love looking at you so much sometimes it's… hard not to. I think if I was you, I'd stare at myself in the mirror all day," he smirked, sheepishly.

A smile graced Krystal's lips. She leaned out over the water, admiring the flower in her reflection and trying to view herself the same way Fox did.

Blushing, she lifted her legs out of the creek and placed them back in the boat, rivulets of water trailing off her fur and soaking the bottom. The bench pressed the two foxes so close together that her drenched calves rubbed against his, dampening them. When she turned to face him, their noses brushed, and they flinched.

"S-Sorry!" they both gasped.

Yet neither drew back. Their faces hovered mere inches apart; a magnetic force keeping them in place. Fox was scared even the slightest movement would shatter the moment like a fragile hourglass, so he tried to hold perfectly still. They were so conscious of their neck muscles that they trembled, and their heads wavered slightly in every direction—even though the sum of their motions was to inch towards one another. They felt trapped in time, and the whole world around them disappeared. There was only she, and he.

Looking at Krystal now, seated beside him, it was hard to grasp that another person who loved him unconditionally was so close he could reach out and hold her—but that also meant he could fail. How easy it would be for him to say the wrong thing or act too quickly and lose her. Everyone else was so eager to overlook his mistakes and forgive him because he'd earned it in their eyes. Now however, he'd have to earn Krystal's trust and respect, and maintain it. For once, he'd have to change himself for someone else; and the prospect of messing it all up and breaking her heart terrified him—especially when it had only just begun to heal.

His eyes poured over her face: her petite muzzle, elfin eyes, and adorable black button nose. Her lips were slightly parted, and her eyes brushed over his face as well in wonderment—though unlike his slow methodical stare, they jumped from feature to feature erratically. Swallowing, she brought her hand up to trace the strong line of his jaw, and her other paw to brush against his contrastingly soft cheek. But Fox's eyes couldn't escape the gravity of her own jewel-like sapphires, and once they crossed the event horizon to look into them, there was no turning back. When her eyes finally settled on his, he stared directly into them, marveling at how bright those twin diamonds glowed. Her aqua-colored irises flickered like the hottest part of a flame; a shimmering pond reflecting a sky of stars. The desire to spiral in and explore that cosmos burned within his heart. And the more Fox stared, the better he could see his brilliant turquoise eyes reflecting in hers. Her soul was bared for him to see, hammering home that another living, breathing creature sat in front of him, thinking the same thoughts and feeling the same urges as he.

Taking that leap, they leaned into each other: body and mind. Krystal lay her paws on his chest, and Fox gently rested his hands on the small of her back, pulling her closer. As their bodies touched, so too did their minds; Fox could feel a presence drawing closer and closer to him with a gravity of its own. Then Krystal reached out, overlapping the ocean of her thoughts with his. It wasn't a deep dive into him yet; just a tentative wade into his shallows, just as she'd dipped her legs into the stream earlier. Yet it was enough to make their desires mutually known.

Krystal tilted her head sideways so that she could bring her mouth closer to his. "What is this feeling?" she asked. When she spoke, her lips brushed against Fox's with each syllable, sending giddy sparks of energy shooting through him. "This desire for our mouths to touch—like they did before. Why?"

Fox wet his lips quickly, and when he spoke, they likewise tipped hers. "It's a kiss," he answered simply, as if naming it would explain everything.

"I know that! Even she kissed me before," she continued, and Fox knew who she meant. "Sometimes on the head, sometimes on the cheek—but never on the mouth, so that I could kiss back. You… you always want to kiss my lips. Why is that?"

Their lips continued to incidentally caress each other as they whispered.

"Well, it's just like you said; it's so you can kiss back. People kiss because… they want to feel close to one another."

"You kissed me before, too," she said, "when you were about to leave."

His ears flattened, and he felt like pulling away in shame. "I'm sorry, I… I forced that on you. I took it without asking; I shouldn't have, but I felt too weak to resist what I wanted."

"Well, do you still want to kiss me, Fox McCloud?"

He gulped. "You already know what I want. You're inside of me…"

She hummed. "I may know what you want—but I can't see what you'll do. So tell me, Fox; will you kiss me?"

He panicked. What exactly did he feel for her? Over and over again, he'd denied this was love. He pushed her away each time, trying to write her off as just another person he'd incidentally saved while doing a selfish deed for himself. And when his feelings for her intensified, he dismissed them as pity for a tortured soul and the desire to protect a sister he never had; a sister in place of the family he'd lost. But it was more than that; so much more than that, boiling like a pressure cooker beneath the surface of his thoughts.

And in this moment, he stopped denying it.

Acting on instinct, Fox leaned closer and gave Krystal a quick, tentative peck, causing her eyes to go wide. There he was; Fox McCloud, liberator of star systems, rogue of the heavens, slayer of evil tyrants. And all he could muster was a kiss that lasted a single, frightened instant.

Surprised, Krystal pulled back and looked at him again. "That was another kiss?" she asked, cocking her head. "It seemed a bit… short, don't you think?"

Fox grinned sheepishly. "I-I'm sorry. If you want I could make it—"

She huffed impatiently. "Here, let me try…"

Her head darted forward, and this time she planted her lips fully against his—just long enough for him to feel how soft and taste how sweet they were, but even she ran out of courage and pulled swiftly away.

Fox released a breath, feeling his heart rate picking up; that brief taste was maddening. "Well, that was close…" he admitted, "but it should be more like…"

Keeping one hand on the small of her back, he used the other to cup her head and bring her closer before locking his lips against hers. Together they closed their eyes and concentrated on the sensation of touch alone: the coolness of the other's exhaled breath against their cheeks, the warmth of their mouths, and the smooth dampness of their lips.

For years there had been a vacuum in Fox's heart: an empty space caused by the deaths of his mother and father, the people that loved him the most. For a time the fire of revenge burned in its place, but it only served to singe away more of his heart the longer it festered. When Andross died and that fuel was eaten up, the flame winked out, leaving an even bigger hole in its place. The emptiness left him hungry; he ravenously needed someone to love rather than hate again.

And this mutual kiss had reignited a bonfire within him.

They kept their lips embraced for a time, then slowly, reluctantly, pulled away. Krystal's eyes darted over his face, trying to understand what she felt as well as the feelings she sensed within him.

"Did… did you like it?" he asked.

Her only answer was to put her arms around his neck and kiss him again. This time Fox felt an equal hunger behind her lips; a force which pressed them harder and begged Fox to do the same. She bobbed her head around, kissing him from different angles, consuming as much of him as she could.

It lasted much longer this time, before Krystal pulled back. By now both vulpines were short of breath and gasped for air.

"Fox," Krystal panted, "I want to get closer to you. C-Closer than just a kiss. I heard it's possible; I heard there's more we can do…"

Fox breathed heavily, blood on fire as it raced through his veins. Krystal placed her hands on the folds of his tunic, parting the two front flaps and brushing the fur beneath with her fingers. Sensing her hunger through their shared connection, he grew more excited himself. He looked down at the vixen's petite shoulders, where her robe had slipped dangerously low over her chest. The hem had rode up to her hips, gathered safely away from her stream-dampened legs. He felt the unbridled desire to take her right then and there, beneath the canopy of petals.

…Yet he hesitated. The sound of rushing water and distant voices grew louder, perking his ears. Reluctantly, he took his wandering eyes off Krystal and grabbed her paws, gently lifting them from his chest. He didn't trust himself; nor did he trust her.

"W-We should go," he said quietly. "They might begin to wonder where we are."

Krystal sighed and withdrew her mind from his. It was as if someone had been torn away from him, and he felt alone, even though Krystal sat right beside him. She pulled her robe back up her shoulders and stretched the hem out to cover more of her legs. She turned away from Fox, but her eyes snuck back.

"Can we see each other again?" she whispered. "Alone, like we are now?"

Feeling guilty for ending their moment, Fox reached up and brushed her hair. "Of course we can."

"Soon?" she asked with rising hope.

"When do you want to meet?"

Her eyes lit up and she pounced on him. "How about tonight?!" she blurted excitedly.

"To-tonight?!"

"Mhm!"

Fox bit his tongue, glancing between Krystal and the bushes that hid them from the main stream. "Alright," he said. "Do you remember the spot where we ran into each other yesterday?"

Krystal's eyes widened before she looked away in shame, as if hiding something. Still, she nodded affirmatively.

"After the sun sets tonight, and the stars come out, meet me on the edge of the forest close to the waterfall. I'll be waiting in the field, watching for you."

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Elsewhere over Cerinia, hundreds of miles above the surface, the CSS Justice carefully orbited. The underside of the ship blended in with the sky, appearing no more than a ripple in the stars.

Bill Grey sat in the captain's chair like a troubled king: nervously perched on the edge, hands steepled together, focusing on the strange device that took up the deck in front of him. Like the rest of the crew, he was getting antsy. For three straight weeks they'd circled Cerinia in low orbit, scanning the surface with the ship's instruments and Number 19's telepathy, but none of their efforts yielded any results. While they had identified numerous communities of Cerinians, none sheltered 28—at least, not according to their own bloodhound test subject.

In front of the large spherical device, Dr. Makepeace absently monitored vitals along with several other General Dynamics scientists. She pretended to be enveloped in her work, glancing between the monitor and a work tablet, but he just knew she was trying not to look at him.

Fay and Miyu sat at their stations without talking to one another, likewise trying to busy themselves with whatever work they could find on the ship—but he noticed them stealing glances at him out of concern. As their leader, he couldn't mirror any of the crews' unrest, but even they could see signs of his composure slipping.

In contrast, Lieutenant Baines stood resolutely still towards the front of the bridge, overseeing the crew pit. Bill was beginning to think he had turned into a statue. In fact, his disciplined control was beginning to irk the bulldog. He wished he'd hurry up and snap already, or at least betray some nervous tic.

Makepeace glanced at the clock on the spherical container, then pursed her lips after seeing the time. The carmine-furred vixen turned and approached Bill's chair, folding her tablet beneath her arms. "Captain, Subject 19 has lain in a theta brainwave state for five hours now. How much longer must we keep her in there?"

Bill wrung his hands and looked at Miyu, who had a height map of the planet's surface on her display. The lynx nodded. "We've passed over the mountain range and are currently above flatlands. We've scanned our target for today."

The bulldog sighed. "Very well. Let's see if she found anything."

He followed Makepeace to the large device in the center of the deck, with Fay close behind. It was a sensory deprivation tank: a meditation device used to minimize external stimuli for the occupant. It was black and spherical, slightly larger than a person in diameter. It had sound- proof walls and was filled with lukewarm water, which was heated to skin temperature to negate sensations of warmth or cold. Finally, the solution was mixed with magnesium sulfate to keep the user afloat and feeling weightless.

When Bill stopped beside the closed pod, he could see the shadowy, warped reflection of himself staring back from its chrome shell. Transformers poked out of the tank at different angles, and cables slithered down to the floor and across to the researchers' monitoring equipment.

Dr. Makepeace simply pressed a button, and the lid to the tank jolted free before slowly opening like a scallop shell. It revealed Cerinian 19 floating on her back in a tub of water. The surface looked pristine and undisturbed, and 19 appeared so quiet and still that Bill thought she might be dead—if it weren't for the telltale rising and falling of her bare chest. Her long, silver hair spread out to form a halo of rays around her head, wavering beneath the surface like seaweed. Her eyes blinked profusely, adjusting to the sudden flood of light.

The water automatically drained from the pod, leaving her crouching at the bottom with her knees pulled in. When there was nothing but a shallow puddle left, she stood and let the water trickle off her fur. Then she noticed Bill and made eye contact with him. Slowly she folded an arm over her chest and grabbed some locks of her long, platinum hair to move in front of her lap. But she didn't hide or cower away from him; her face a blank, mysterious slate.

Makepeace rushed to drape a towel around the girl's shoulders, then helped her climb out of the chamber. If she wasn't considered just an alien test subject, modesty might have been a concern, and the pod wouldn't be in the middle of the bridge like this. The scientist dried her off for a minute before Bill rounded the chamber to talk to her. "Well? Did you hear Subject 28 this time?"

His words were filled with the last shreds of hope he could muster. For three weeks they'd repeated this same process: passing over likely hiding places, investigating more populated settlements, and having 19 listen for the kidnapped Cerinian's thoughts below—yet nothing ever came of it. Time and time again, he was only disappointed and let down.

And this time was no different. 19 merely tilted her head down and shook it in shame.

Bill tried to contain his disappointment. His fingers flexed open and curled into fists repeatedly—but before he could respond, an ensign spoke up from his station. "Captain Grey, incoming transmission from Gate Control."

Icy chills ran through Bill's stomach, and he swallowed. That could only mean one thing—or rather, one person.

Tugging at his shirt collar, the bulldog marched back to the captain's chair before turning to face the prow; he didn't dare sit. "Patch it through."

A holographic screen projected in the air above the crew pit, displaying the golden fur and scarlet red uniform of General Pepper. Bill curtly saluted. "General."

"Captain." Pepper's expression looked stern and already disappointed; as if he knew what Bill was going to say. "Status report please."

He cleared his throat. "Well sir, we just finished surveying another mountain range and identified multiple Cerinian settlements. Subject 28 did not appear to be among them from conventional and thought-scans. We've crossed the range off our list and have narrowed our search down even further. There are only a few likely hiding places left for McCloud—"

"For clarification, Captain, you have not yet ascertained the Cerinian's location or found a definite lead on its whereabouts?"

Setting his jaw, he owned up to the answer. "No sir, we haven't."

Pepper's expression didn't change. It was still stone-cold, though the tone of his voice felt sharper when he spoke next. "It has been over twenty-one days since your search began, yet during that time, your efforts have proven fruitless. I've given you Corneria's most advanced warship and surveillance drones; I've given you command of two units and a ship's crew; I've given you one of our few remaining Cerinian test subjects; and I've given you a generous three weeks in which to search—but what have you given me in return?"

The bulldog's tail tucked between his legs.

"I don't think you understand the urgency of this mission, Grey. The Cerinia project must proceed as quickly as possible. It can't afford any more hang-ups. Too much is at stake; all of Lylat is waiting on you. Every day, people die by the thousands starving for food and energy. It is imperative that you recover Number 28."

Bill bowed his head. "I know sir. I understand their suffering, and it pains me to report back nothing—but Cerinia is an entire planet, and we are just one ship. I understand if you can't spare any more—"

"We can't risk any more," Pepper corrected. "Cerinia is a dangerous planet, and a single vessel has the greatest chance of going unnoticed. Besides, you have Cerinian 19 at your disposal, so make use of it. Perhaps you are not being thorough or aggressive enough in your search. Redouble your efforts! Be sterner with your subject. You have failed me twice before, Captain; I will not tolerate a third time…"

Pepper ended the call, and the screen winked out above the crew's heads. No one on the bridge dared speak, though the occupants' eyes all focused on Bill.

The canine slowly inhaled a lungful of air, then released it gradually to calm his temper.

Everything was going wrong. This was supposed to be his mission; to prove his worth as a captain. It was his one chance to earn back Pepper's favor after so stupidly fumbling it before. He secretly craved the attention which replacing Fox as Lylat's hero would bring him, but that opportunity was slowly but surely slipping between his fingers—and it was because other people were holding him back…

Bill marched across the deck to the isolation pod and stopped in front of Makepeace. He pointed back at 19, who flinched slightly. "Why hasn't she sensed Cerinian 28 yet? We've been all over this god-forsaken planet at this point, so what's the holdup? Has she forgotten what 28's brain signature sounds like? Can she not pick her thoughts out from a crowd of other Cerinians? Are we too high up?"

Beside Makepeace, 19 began to shrink away—but the doctor set her jaw and firmly answered Bill. "19 is doing the best she can. She hasn't forgotten 28's thought patterns, but I'm afraid there is nothing we can do to make sure she can hear her. It's not safe down there."

"Nowhere is safe! I can't go back to Pepper time and time again to just report nothing. You heard what he said. You know how much is riding on this mission. We have to do something more, or we'll get nowhere."

Noting Bill's tirade had disheartened 19, Makepeace sent her away with several of the scientists. Then, she faced the irate captain. "There's another avenue we could try: a possible lead to Fox's whereabouts."

"Shoot."

"When Dr. Andross was apprehended, he was returning from Cerinia through a timed gate opening. If the shuttle he used somehow survived the Lylat War, we could use it to find where on the planet he'd visited."

Bill raised an eyebrow. "And you think wherever he landed, Fox could be headed there as well? Why?"

"He… may be suspicious about Andross's involvement in the program, and is simply retracing his steps. I'll put in a request for General Dynamics to look into the whereabouts of that shuttle the next time the gate opens."

Bill shook his head. "It's a start—but it's not enough."

"And what would you have us do, Captain?"

He pointed out to Cerinia's horizon, which they perpetually flew towards. "We need to fly closer to the surface—specifically, cruising altitude. We'll have an easier time identifying settlements, and 19 will have a better shot at hearing 28, as you've explained it. Finally, our scanners could pick out an Arwing at that height."

The vixen shook her head. "You don't understand! Approaching Cerinia is like trying to grab a cactus with invisible spikes. The Justice's camouflage is significantly less effective at that height, and we risk pricking ourselves on a dangerous foe."

Bill crossed his arms. "Then we'll deal with that when the time comes. We have Lylat's most advanced cruiser in addition to two full units of pilots. My men aren't meant to stay cooped up on a ship, doctor; they were meant to fight. So let them do their job."

"You don't stand a chance! If we just wait for the flight path of Andross's shuttle—"

"I'm exercising my authority as captain here, Doctor. I've made my decision."

Makepeace held his glare for several tense seconds, matching it with one of her own. Then, realizing it was futile, she sighed and wrung her hands. "Alright then, but at least let me warn you what you are going up against."

"Please do—but it won't change my mind."

Makepeace raised her voice so the whole bridge could hear. "There is a reason Cerinia is classified as a forbidden planet—an even higher level than Venom. In fact, we are the only Lylatians to visit the planet in eight years. Over a decade ago, the natives underwent a simultaneous evolutionary change that proved catastrophic to their race."

Fay raised her eyebrows. "All at the same time?!"

"We had been studying the Cerinians up to that point, but once they developed psychic powers, they lost control of them, destroying their civilization and wiping out the majority of their race. Each Cerinian is so powerful that Andross started his own program to kidnap and experiment on them with the hopes of employing them as bioweapons." She nodded towards the door which 19 had exited through. "Cerinian 19 is one such victim of his program. Many of you saw the harm she did in the laboratories when she lost control of herself. Now, imagine a planet filled with a species like her. That is what we are up against."

"I'd like to see them hold their own against spacefighters and a warship," Bill smirked.

Makepeace glared back. "Do not underestimate the Cerinians. 19 only demonstrated a taste of what they can do, and our target 28 has not even unlocked the full potential of her powers. From afar, Cerinians can hurl projectiles at you. In person, they can tear you limb-from-limb without flexing a muscle. They can read your mind, preempt your actions, and exploit your thoughts at will."

The more Makepeace talked, the more Bill began to grasp the seriousness of the threat they posed. Gradually as he listened, he loosened his confident stance.

"Don't think: act—for they can read your mind as if you were yelling your thoughts out loud. Always keep your distance. If they come close, wait till you have a perfect shot and take them by surprise. You will not get a second chance. There's a reason Andross planned to unleash them on Lylat…"

She crossed her arms. "Well Captain, after hearing all that, are you still committed to risking a closer approach?"

He felt a little shaken, but slowly nodded anyway. "We have no choice. We accepted this mission without regard for our own lives. Lylat's people are more important."

Makepeace closed her eyes. "Then so be it."

"Baines," Bill called to his lieutenant, "take the Justice down to cruising altitude: forty thousand feet. Scan for Fox's Arwing, but especially be on the lookout for Cerinian heat signatures; they may be a threat."

The beagle saluted and gave the order for the crew to enter the atmosphere. However, when Bill looked around and noticed 19 had left the bridge, he left the room in a hurry.

The bulldog caught up to 19 a minute later, who was headed with two scientists towards the makeshift laboratory. "Hey!" he called ahead of him. "19, wait!"

The Cerinian and pair of scientists halted. Bill slowed to a stop and waved for the men to go on ahead, who reluctantly obliged. Together they left Bill and 19 alone in the hallway.

The Cerinian's fur was still damp from the isolation chamber, and her feet left wet prints on the floor. She made for a sorry sight, unable to bring her head up to face Bill.

"I'm sorry I can't hear 28," she said in Venomian, beating him to the punch. "I apologize for my failure. I'm trying, I really am, but if she doesn't speak, I can't hear her. There's nothing I can do about that."

Bill sighed. "It's alright, I didn't mean to make you worry about it. It can't be helped. We'll just have to try harder from now on, okay?"

She nodded, eager to make up for her failure.

The bulldog shifted on his feet. "Look, it doesn't feel right calling you 19 all the time. I was wondering if you had a real name?"

The purple-furred vixen looked up at him. "Yes, it's 19."

"No I mean… a different name. Not your subject number. You know, like Bill, or Makepeace."

She shook her head slowly, silver locks waving. "No, I can't remember any. In the labs they only ever called me 19."

"Well, how about a nickname? Something people would call you by occasionally instead of the number, but wasn't really your name?"

19 thought harder about it, her brow furrowing. A saddened look came over her face, and she suggested, "You mean, Meinsau?"

The translator app refused to interpret the word, but Bill knew. A wave of sympathy crashed over him, and his jaw hung slightly agape. He lay a paw on her shoulder and spoke softly.

"19… 19 will do for now, okay?"