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Mission No. 46

Cerinia
Altaira Valley

"Corruption, Inc."

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Krystal sat at the base of a tall waterfall, breathing in the refreshing mists. The water in the air gathered in crystalline drops on her fur, cooling the vixen after her usual set of chores that morning. She sat on a smooth, flat stone atop a sand bank beside the pool. A dozen similar seats formed a circle around hers, but right now they were empty; it was just her this morning.

A few days had passed without her seeing Fox—purposefully. Ever since that night, a heavy cloud of guilt hung over her, and she worried any moment Namah or another elder might read her mind and find her out. Nor could she shake the feeling that her sisters secretly knew of her iniquity, but they infuriatingly betrayed no sign to confirm her suspicions, keeping her in constant suspense. She needed time to clear her head, and a little meditation would help.

Krystal raised her eyes to the falls, taking in the raw strength that thundered behind the avalanche of droplets. They spilled over a series of precipices and rocky shelves, crashing onto outcroppings and angular-shaped tree roots before spilling twenty straight feet into the pool. The water directly beneath the tumultuous falls was frothy and white, but further out the disturbance became neat circles, concentric and ever-expanding until they softly dissipated. This was the source of the stream that ran through the forest; much further down was the creek from which the women gathered water, and the fall where she had spied on—NO.

Krystal furrowed her brow and shook her head, trying not to think about him: about that night, and what she'd seen when they…

Sighing, she started to ease into her routine. The vixen folded her legs, straightened her back, and closed her eyes. Then she lay her hands atop one another and touched the tips of her thumbs together.

Gentle light still seeped in through her red lids. She could hear the thunder of the falls drowning out all else like white noise and feel the spray of the mist against her cheek.

"Feel and accept the concrete barriers of the world," she remembered Namah instructing. "Change yourself rather than trying to change the environment around you. Cerinians have forgotten how to evolve. Instead we unnaturally bend the world to our will, defying the order of the universe."

Krystal reached out with the fingers of her mind, tracing the soft leaves, the fine grains of sand, and the hard edges of the rocks around her till she had a mental map of the clearing in her head.

"Listen to the sounds of nature: the flow of life through plants and insects…"

The rushing of the stream grew louder in her ears. She could even hear the one-note thoughts shared by clouds of bugs, and the directive to consume, grow, and propagate woven into the very fiber of Cerinia's flora.

"Do not dwell on the past, for it cannot be changed. Do not worry about the future, for any attempt to pin it down will cause it to spiral unpredictably out of your control. Focus on the here and now. Take nothing in this moment for granted—even something as simple as breathing."

The vixen inhaled deeply, filling her lungs with refreshing air. She breathed in and out in a slow, rhythmic pattern, trying to silence her own voice in her head—but the more she tried to forget about Fox and losing herself in him, the more she ended up thinking about it. Dammit, what was the next step Namah had told her? Um…

"Let go of your emotions, and feel at peace with—"

A branch snapped.

Krystal's eyes flashed open to find Fox climbing down the opposite stream bank. The sight of him alone brought an onrush of unwelcome memories and sensations to her mind. She recalled their act of lovemaking, yes, but also what it was like to plunge into his mind to the point of drowning. He wasn't just Fox anymore: the tailored, outward mask of himself he carefully curated and wore whenever he interacted with her. He was… well, the real Fox, with nothing hidden. All over again she saw strobing flashes of his life: the horrific monsters he vanquished, his close brushes with death among the clouds and stars, his shouting matches with friends—it was all too much for her to take.

He paused halfway down the incline, cringing like an infant who'd been caught red-handed. "Krystal—"

She gasped and launched to her feet, stumbling a few paces backwards.

Fox rushed down the incline, calling her name and speaking to her pleadingly—but the exact meaning was lost on her ears. When her mind tried to translate his words she inadvertently remembered what it was like to glean their meaning from Fox's language center, triggering more frightening memories. She clamped down on those thoughts, refusing to parse his Cornerian at all.

"Krystal!" he called again, and even the sound of her name was enough to spike her pulse.

"NO!" she cried in Cerinian, continuing to back up. "Keep away!"

"Wait!"

Krystal's ears perked at the familiar word; he'd spoken Cerinian for once! She quit backing up, and Fox likewise slid to a stop on the opposite side of the stream from her. He knelt at the water's edge, respecting the natural barrier between them.

"Wait! P-Please no go. I no hurt you!" he stammered in broken Cerinian.

Krystal didn't flee any further—but she didn't walk back in his direction, either. She stood staring at him across the water, breathing heavily as her pulse raced in her veins. It was the first time he'd made an effort to speak her language—or, perhaps the first time he could.

Fox looked like he was struggling to find the right words to speak, but ultimately he just raised his hands, palms facing outwards—and Krystal gasped in recognition. She remembered when she first laid eyes on him through the cryochamber wall, and he'd placed his hands on the side of the glass the same way. Almost instinctively, she raised her own paws to return the gesture.

Fox swallowed. "I… I sorry to scare you. I no mean to…" He shook his head in frustration and admitted defeat, switching back to Cornerian. "I didn't mean to sneak up on you or disturb your session… thing." He stood and wrung his hands, turning dejectedly on his heel. "Um, I don't blame you if you don't want to see me. If you want I can leave you alone—"

"N-NO!" Krystal blurted in Cornerian, surprising even herself. "You can stay if you want. B-But over there, please…"

Fox exhaled in relief, but respectfully kept to his side of the stream. The water curved like a protective barrier between them, letting Krystal feel safe. Hesitantly she crept back to her meditation seat and sat down again, watching Fox—but still not connecting her mind to his.

Meanwhile Fox shuffled awkwardly on his feet and looked anywhere but at her, eventually settling on the darker depths of the pool. Fish hovered there in the water, their rainbow scales catching the light like jewels as they gave him their sideways, wide-eyed stares. He licked his lips, finally cutting the silence again.

"You know, when I was a kid my friends and I would explore a creek by my neighborhood. There used to be fish like these there—just not as pretty. Brook trout, I think they were called. I remember watching them in the dark water, their white fins reminding me of wings. They were fun to catch and hold up for a few moments, but we always put them back."

He stared up at the waterfall, and Krystal followed his gaze to the brown tree roots. But the more she studied them, the more she realized they weren't roots at all; they were pipes bent at unnaturally straight angles, rusted through in some areas and fracturing apart in scale-like flakes. It was as if one of the Watchers' creatures had slithered its way to the valley years ago, sucked all the water from the springs, and left the area outside a bone-dry desert. But now the creature was long dead, its corpse making way for new life to take root and thrive.

"Then one summer, the fish began to disappear until we couldn't find them anymore," Fox continued, and Krystal detected a note of forlornness in his voice. "They opened a factory nearby—somewhere upstream—and they let the creek wash away their run-off. I thought that… maybe all the fish were hiding somewhere we couldn't see. Like, they were waiting for us to come and find them, or for the waste to drain out before they returned. But we never saw them again."

After studying the fish some more, Fox tore himself away and sat down on a fallen log, facing her. He frowned when he realized he'd rambled on a bit. "Uh, sorry for interrupting again. Don't let me stop whatever you were doing."

Relieved he hadn't brought up that night together, and eager to keep him from doing so, Krystal closed her eyes and continued with her session—though now she was aware she had an audience, and felt a little self-conscious.

"You uh… meditating?" she heard his voice come to her.

"Mhm," she hummed, assuming the shape of the cobra, or the nākahi. She stretched across the stone on her stomach, but held her arms out to prop up the top half of her torso. She tilted her head back, curving her spine until the speckled sunlight from between the leaves washed over her face.

"We had that back in Lylat," Fox continued. "But I never really put much faith in the 'aligning chakras' stuff."

"…There are many reasons the Kaitaki meditate," Krystal tentatively explained, eyes still closed. "For one, stretching keeps your joints loose throughout the day."

Next came the wīta, or wheel. Krystal rose to her knees and bent over backwards till her palms and head touched the ground, forming an inverted bridge. She stole a glance at Fox while holding the posture; his eyebrows were raised.

Noticing her glance, Fox coughed. "You're, uh, really flexible. I think I'd pull a muscle if I tried something like that."

"The difficult postures demand you focus on the body and not the mind, keeping your powers repressed and your thoughts clear."

"Huh. How 'bout that…"

She transitioned into the kopiana, pivoting onto her forearms and lifting her legs straight up in the air to mimic a scorpion's tail. Too late did she realize what would happen to her loose athletic robe in her upside-down state; what little skirt there was flapped down to expose the white 28 tattoo on her thigh—not to mention her loincloth. She was hyper-aware of Fox staring at her, his unabashed gaze making her cheeks burn.

"It must take a lot of concentration to balance like that," Fox murmured dumbly.

Feeling self-conscious, but at the same time curious about the stupefying effect she held over the todd, Krystal excitedly skipped ahead in her routine. She stood upright and assumed the kanikani, a pose usually reserved for dancers, but was just as beneficial to the performer as it was alluring to onlookers. She balanced on one foot and raised the other leg behind her, bending her spine back so she could grab her lifted foot. Her upper torso and raised leg formed a circle that funneled the rays of the morning sun onto Fox, brightening like a halo around her.

She closed her eyes and tried to appear unconscious of his fixation. "Achieving physical balance also gives you inner stability, since the mind and body are linked. What effects one effects the other," she added.

"Wow…" was all he could manage.

She held the pose perfectly for a time, till Fox cleared his throat. "Look, um… about what happened that night—"

Krystal faltered, swaying left and right; her mind returned to their act of lovemaking, and the frightening images she'd seen in his head. To hide her surprise she simply switched legs. "Y-Yes?"

Fox exhaled. "I just wanted to apologize again for all of… that. Everything that happened is my fault. I should've known you weren't ready. I should've expected something would go wrong if a Lylatian and a Cerinian like us tried to… well, mate."

Realizing her attempts at meditation were futile, Krystal released the pose and lowered into a sitting position. She felt uncomfortable and scared talking about the matter, as if the elders might be listening in on their conversation, or even secretly reading her mind.

"It's… alright," she answered. "Even Māra didn't know it would turn out like that."

He laughed nervously. "That's never happened to me before—only with you; never with anyone else."

She raised an eyebrow, suddenly feeling jealous. "Not even with… Fara?"

He shifted uncomfortably, coughing. "Uh, no. Not even with her."

"Oh…" She breathed for a minute. "I think I understand. That must be why it was so easy for her to stay with you so long; because she's a Lylatian like you."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault, Fox. It's… mine. You're normal; I'm a Cerinian. I'm cursed, so I bring out what's inside us without even trying. Namah taught me that's what our bodies are for: to protect one another from what we carry inside. It's better not to get too close, or we might hurt those we love."

"Then, is that why you shut me out that night?" Fox pressed. "Is that why you're… still keeping me out now?"

Krystal fell silent again, too ashamed to answer aloud—but she admitted the truth with a nod.

Fox clenched his fists. She knew it frustrated him: not being able to tell exactly what she was thinking. She felt the same way. Actually having to communicate and read his visual cues was harder for her, and she'd enjoyed the ease of reading his mind directly, even if it was unfiltered and a little frightening.

It felt like trying to read lips.

"I see what you mean," Fox finally answered. "…But I think that's a pessimistic view of love. Not sharing memories like that… it assumes everything that's happened in our lives is painful and should be kept locked away. There were so many good experiences I've had—so many memories I want to share with you. It doesn't have to be painful. I guess what I'm trying to say is…" His expression turned serious and his eyes stared directly into hers. "I want to try it again."

Krystal's pulse spiked, and she drew her legs in defensively. "Here?!" she gasped.

"No! That's not what I—" Fox released an exasperated breath, face flushing. "I just want to share a memory with you. I want to prove to you that it doesn't always have to be bad. So please, would you come inside my head again?"

Krystal bit her lip, heart beginning to pound again at the thought. She was scared of what she'd see inside his head again, and she was scared she might scare him away if she showed him what was inside hers. But at the same time, she wanted to believe in them; that they weren't too different for it to be impossible.

Finally Krystal focused on the stream, and a dry space opened all the way to the pebbly bed at the bottom. Fox blinked in surprise, but gladly accepted the invitation. While Krystal felt guilty about using her powers in such a way, she helped Fox ford the creek, keeping a dry gap as he crossed.

Once he reached her side of the stream, Krystal let the gap close and Fox sat on the grass in front of her. "I promise you'll enjoy it," he said, looking up at her.

Still unsure about the whole thing, Krystal scooted forward and perched on the edge of the stone to be closer. She closed her eyes and timidly reached out to his mind with her own just as she'd mentally explored the clearing around her earlier. She sank into him, and Fox reproduced a memory for her, feeding as much stimuli from the chosen event to her senses as he could recall.

An instant after diving into the memory, Krystal was in his body: seeing images through his eyes, feeling things through his skin, even smelling things through his nose. Fox wasn't as skilled as her at reconstructing memories, but with a little help of her own, she managed to fit so many of his pieces together, making a lucid picture for them both.

It was a bright blue day, with the sun washing the surfaces in a hazy light. Her shoes clopped against hard cement ground that stretched for hundreds of feet in either direction, till it met the edges of a dusty orange desert. Everything around her seemed so much larger than herself; it must've been from when Fox was younger.

She had no control of her actions, and for that matter neither did Fox; he had already taken them years ago, and the past was final. All he could do was decide how to present the memory to her, and what to embellish.

Unbidden, her feet carried her to a strange, metallic, faceted creature. Its white and deep blue hide set it off against the pale blue sky—similar to Fox's current ship, but not quite as sleek. She paused at a yellow ladder and began climbing it carefully, watching as Fox's small hands gripped each rung in succession. At the top she looked down into the beast's mouth, where an older vulpine sat. Krystal was shocked; he appeared almost a mirror image of who Fox was today. He wore a similar flight suit and white vest with an identical red scarf around his neck. The only differences were the reflective black lenses obscuring his eyes and the way he carried himself; he seemed more confident, more unapologetic, whereas Fox was usually self-conscious and cautious.

'That's my dad, James,' Fox explained, but the older vulpine's effigy was deaf to his voice.

He patted his lap. "Hop in Fox," he said while grinning. "You ready for your first flight?"

"You bet I am!" Krystal heard coming from herself—but she stumbled while climbing over the beast's lip and fell in.

"Whoooa there!" James exclaimed, but began laughing as he helped her sit upright. She sat in his lap and he secured her with a safety harness. His strong arms reached around her to grab the controls, and Krystal felt an intense sensation of comfort and safety emanating from them.

So this is what a parent is like, she thought. She'd experienced many of these same feelings of comfort with Vixy, and more recently when Fox held her. She wondered… did Fox miss these feelings now that he was older, too? Did he want the same safety from her in return?

James fiddled with the controls, the specific hand-motions lost on Krystal, but every input seemed burned into Fox's muscle memory; she could feel the tendons in his paws firing to match each motion, as if he were operating it in real time.

The beast's stomach growled, with powerful vibrations shaking the entire ship. Krystal could feel them even rattling her—Fox's—bones.

The ship began moving forward, the edge of the concrete and the ruddy sand beyond approaching faster and faster. Then, just before they reached it, James pulled back on a stick and the creature lifted into the air.

Krystal gasped at the same time as young Fox did, the desert falling out from under them. James nosed the ship into the infinite blue sky until the only way Krystal could gauge their motion was by the clouds drifting around them. The clouds were so bright the todd's father placed his sunglasses over his emerald eyes.

"How far up are we?" young Fox asked.

"30,000 feet, kiddo."

James lifted Krystal up so she could see over the creature's mouth and down to the ground below. The sight of the insect-sized buildings frightened her; she'd never felt so small or so high up before, and her stomach turned—or maybe it was just Fox's.

At first the experience was frightening, but it was much like her first time flying with Fox. She felt safe then; she felt even safer now knowing nothing could happen to her in a memory.

James sure put on a show; he sped the ship up until Krystal felt an invisible force pushing her back into him, but never to a point where it was too much to bear. He pulled the stick back to bring the ship in a tight loop, and Krystal cried out giddily at the apex. Knowing his son liked it, James turned them upside down so that the blue sky and orange ground traded places. Krystal's arms hung limply downwards, the blood rushing to her head for an exhilarating experience.

Young Fox laughed excitedly. "Alright!" he cheered, and Krystal was inclined to agree.

Eventually James brought the ship right-side up and slowed to a gentle pace.

"So Fox, you ready to give it a go?"

Krystal looked back over her shoulder at James, who was grinning ear-to-ear. Her eyes widened. "Can I?!"

"Sure, but don't try anything too fancy; don't expect to be an ace-pilot on your very first flight!"

Krystal eagerly gripped her paws around the control stick while James rested his hands close by, sometimes placing them over hers to readjust their course. While the ship wasn't necessarily under her control, it was still amazing to watch it respond to the movements she made with her hands. The ride from then on was jerky and clumsy, but still felt empowering.

After their adventure in the sky, James landed back on the concrete platform and helped Krystal down the ladder. When she dropped the last few rungs, James hopped down as well, but he crouched into a kneeling position. He undid the red scarf from around his neck and rested it over Krystal's shoulders, tying it in place.

"Fox, I want you to have this; you've earned it after your first flight."

Krystal's heart swelled as she looked down at the scarf, holding it up with her paws. "Wow…" She looked back up. "Can I be part of your team too?!"

James ruffled her head fur. "One day, kiddo. One day…"

The image of the vulpine faded, the reflection of the young todd in his sunglasses replaced by Fox sitting in front of her. He smiled sheepishly and looked down. "That was the first time Dad took me flying. I wanted to be a pilot ever since."

"Then, that's how you got your scarf?" she asked.

He nodded, and Krystal wrapped her arms around herself. "And then you gave it to me…" She looked away. "I'm sorry, I gave it away, too; now someone else has it, and you won't ever see it again."

He shrugged. "I think it was worth it—but, did you enjoy that?"

Krystal nodded. "Yes! That felt… warm," she breathed. "And it was exciting! But… where is your dad now?"

Fox grinned sadly and tapped his head. "Just… up here."

Krystal's eyes widened when she realized what he meant, but when Fox's smiling mask didn't flinch, she managed to return it. "Well, he's a good memory. I think I understand now; they don't always have to be bad."

"See! Now go on; you try. Think about something that made you happy. And, if you want, you can show it to me."

Krystal knit her brow and concentrated. She searched her past for a suitable memory—one that would amuse Fox as much as his had enthralled her… but it was difficult. So many of her experiences were negative; especially the ones she tried to block out. And the longer she came up empty, the more deflated her spirit felt inside. There had to be something…

Eventually the image of Fox's father handing him the bandana popped back up; it gave her an idea.

"Alright," she nodded with confidence, "my turn now!"

They closed their eyes again, and this time Krystal fed Fox a steady stream of sensations to paint the scene for him.

In contrast to the wide-open plains of Fox's memory, Krystal's was admittedly stifling. The sun was a cold fluorescent light overhead; the sky, ceiling panels; and the horizon a simple green and blue vista painted on the walls of a nursery. The rest of the room was just as minimal, except for a confused stack of alphabet blocks, a heap of picture books, a scattering of small stuffed animals, and an air mattress with a pink quilt folded down. She could feel Fox eating up the room through her eyes, though she sensed a hint of dread in his curiosity, as if he knew how it all would end.

She wasn't alone—or rather, the two of them weren't alone. She looked up at the mirror embedded in one of the walls, and together they saw her reflection staring back: a blue-furred kit dressed in a snow-white gown, playing with alphabet blocks. But her attention was focused behind the mirror, where the thoughts of someone else emanated from. She quit stacking the blocks and frowned. It was frustrating. From the man's eyes she could see herself through the mirror as if it were glass, but when she looked at where she knew the man was, there was only her own reflection, as if the mirror could only be viewed from one side.

For some reason her stare through the mirror made the man uncomfortable. His thoughts became confused—fearful, even. He shifted in his seat, tugged at his collar, then stood up and left completely, leaving no one behind the mirror.

She had always wondered why he wouldn't show himself and admit he was observing her, but now she knew better. He was just an earlier version of Watchers before she met them.

A rap sounded on the door, and it opened. Krystal turned to see an orange-furred vixen enter the room, much taller than herself—yet her size did not intimidate the kit. There was an unmistakable matronly air about her, and her sparkling sapphire eyes and beaming smile brought her comfort.

"Vixy!" she squealed and stood up, rushing over to wrap her arm around the woman's leg.

Vixy laughed and knelt down so she could return the hug. "Hi sweetie, I'm sorry I didn't come sooner."

Fox seemed floored by his mother's appearance. He wished the embrace would last forever, and tried to lean into her hug with all his might, yet he couldn't change the memory on his own. Realizing it meant so much to him, Krystal did her best to extend the recollection as long as she could. For several blissful moments, Fox felt reunited with his lost mother, even if he knew it was nothing but a ghost. Krystal understood the feeling well, for she shared Fox's love for his mother as if she were her own. She missed her just as much, even after all these years. But this was merely the start of the memory, so Krystal pressed on and resumed the flow of time.

"I missed you! I thought you were gone forever!" she said.

Vixy clucked her tongue and held Krystal at arm's length, studying her with pity. "Oh you poor thing! You know I'll always come back to you. After all, you mean the world to me. But I won't be able to visit you every day; that's why I brought you something…"

She reached behind her back and revealed a new stuffed toy animal, though this one was bigger than the rest; it was nearly half Krystal's size. The plushie was a black-and-white panda bear with fuzzy fur and soft, pillowy limbs. Krystal caught the toy up in her arms and hugged it with nearly as much vigor as she hugged Vixy.

"Aw, she's so cute!" Krystal exclaimed.

Vixy looked relieved that Krystal received her gift with such warmth. "I wanted you to have someone else to hug whenever I'm not around, so that you'll never feel lonely. This little bear needs love and affection too; can you give that to her when I'm gone?"

Krystal looked up at the woman. "Mm! I'll keep her safe."

A harsh voice reached the room from somewhere outside the door. Both of the vixens froze upon hearing it. Krystal could even feel Fox bristling when he recognized the owner.

"What is he doing outside?! He shouldn't be running around like that! It's not… safe."

Vixy glanced over her shoulder for an instant, but tried not to let on. She turned back to face Krystal, resting her hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry sweetie, I have to go now, but I'll be here for the rest of the week, and I'll try to visit you every day. How does that sound?"

Krystal hugged the teddy bear tighter and buried her muzzle in the top of its head so that only her eyes and nose peeked over. "Do you have to go now?" she whined.

"Yes dear, I know it's hard. But I want you to be a strong girl for me, okay? I'll be back to visit you tomorrow."

"Well, okay…"

Vixy squeezed her shoulder. "That's my girl!" she leaned down and kissed Krystal on the forehead before rising back to her feet. "Goodbye for now. And remember to take care of your new friend."

"Goodbye," Krystal felt herself say as the door to the nursery gently shut. Somehow the soft click of the lock still deafened her ears, no matter how quiet Vixy tried to make it. She sat down and leaned against the door, cradling the stuffed panda bear to her torso. It was soft and warm, even if the heat it returned to her was only that which she'd given it first.

'When you were young,' Fox asked, 'you spoke Cornerian?'

'N-no; she spoke Cerinian so I could understand. I think… I think I spoke Cerinian when I was younger.'

'But when she spoke I heard Cornerian.'

'I… couldn't recall her words exactly,' Krystal admitted, 'but what I could, I translated for you.'

She had planned to end the memory there, but the sound of small footsteps pattered back to the nursery, and a shadow fell across the beam of light that slipped beneath the door.

"Hello?" her younger self asked.

The response was quiet and muffled, distorted by more than just the door between them. She couldn't make out a word it said.

Curious, Krystal set the stuffed animal aside and reached her thin paw through the crack beneath the door, grasping.

To her surprise, another set of fingers brushed hers, and she gasped and withdrew her paw. Soon however, she missed their touch enough to slip her hand back beneath the door. She met the strange set of fingers again, and this time they gently took hold of hers. She didn't know who they belonged to, but the presence of someone else's touch—even that of a complete stranger—told her someone still cared about her.

For quite some time they held hands beneath the door, unable to see or understand each other. Their shared touch and mutual grasp was their only form of communication, though it was the universal one all species understood. Krystal gripped the hand even tighter, but it didn't pull away, staying in solidarity with her.

'Who is it?' Fox asked.

'I… I don't know. I never think I found out,' Krystal admitted. 'But I remember them being there for me several more times. It was years ago.'

'You didn't ask them or try to check with your mind?'

'I-I can't remember. Every time I try to, something gets in the way like that door.'

'That's odd… I'm going to try something.'

'Hey, wait!'

Fox tried to seize control of the memory like it was a dream being created in the moment—which, in a way, it was. Krystal did her best to weave the rest of the memory-space while he looked around, which turned out to be surprisingly easy. He leaned their shared view over, trying to catch a glimpse of the person through the crack beneath the door. But when they saw their form, the figure was entirely made from fizzing static; an amalgamation of random, confusing images that flashed by one after the other like her brain was trying to fit puzzle pieces into places they didn't belong. When she tried to access the memory, Krystal found the labyrinth of neurons all twisted up; the pattern to recombine the pieces for recollection damaged: blocked.

Then in an instant, the static grew to consume all of their vision. Their eyes were assaulted by flashes of light intercut by shadow; a strobing pattern of void black and vacant white, day and night, dark and light-

With a start Krystal opened her eyes, finding Fox blinking his as well. It was only then that she noticed she'd taken his hand in hers, and was nearly strangling it with a tight grasp. Not only that, but pebbles, grains of loose dirt, fallen petals, and even droplets of water from the stream had risen into the air in a suspended cloud around them—but once Krystal snapped from her vision, they all fell back to the ground at once, rustling the grass and splashing in the water like rain. Fox even shuddered as the force dissipated, feeling the sleeves of his robe and his standing hairs all fall back into place.

Krystal's heart pounded again; ashamed and even a little frightened she'd lost control like that. She released Fox's hand and looked away from him. "I'm sorry. I thought it was a happy memory, but it was so—"

But Fox grabbed her retreating hand and squeezed it. It was the first time they'd touched since that night, and the contact eased her fear.

"No, it did make me happy!" he beamed. "I… I want to see more, when you feel like it. I'm glad that, even back then, there was someone else there for you. And, if you ever need someone like that now… I'll be there for you."

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Late at night, two figures snuck out of Katt's mechanic shop with a pair of backpacks; they kept their jacket hoods pulled low over their heads, but eagle-eyed individuals could spot deep blue feathers and bright pink fur if they looked hard enough. The two crept through alleyways and pitch-black roads with broken streetlights, eventually arriving at the sewage trench that split the North End from the center island.

The canal was filled with several feet of inky black water. Garbage littered either side of the bank, caked together in disgusting muck like cement. Several aluminum cans of Whimsy soda were discarded among the rest—fitting, since the source was an imposing, blocky factory at the other end of the canal. The brutalist bottling plant was dark and hard to pick out against the night sky, but the fresh, multicolored logo of Whimsy Cola glowed on its exterior like an artificial moon hanging over District 13. Ironic, that the city had cola to drink, but not clean water in many cases.

Even in the face of so much pollution and garbage, many in Zoness didn't bat an eye at littering. It was just more tears in the rain. Still, Falco glanced at the cans with a new disdain.

He and Katt paused at the top of the canal, setting down their packs and removing their gear. They dressed in plastic coveralls, long rubber hip boots, gloves, and gas masks to filter out the rancid stench. Katt had chosen a strawberry-scented filter to make the ordeal more pleasant, while Falco donned a mask specifically designed for avians, with a long, snout-like extension for his beak. Along with the reflective eye-lenses that caught the shining streetlights, it looked like a plague mask on him.

Once they finished suiting up, they carefully descended the concrete slope and waded into the mire. The water felt thick and warm, even through the protective material of Falco's coveralls. Most of the group hated taking their turn to collect the shrooms like this, but Falco thought there was something still beautiful about all the refuse and spoil: something dark and alluring. The surface of the sewage was coated in black oil, which, when undisturbed, reflected the overhead stars on a clear night like this. The sluggishly-flowing current sent iridescent eddies swirling along the top, displaying a rainbow of colors. But most of all, he liked having an excuse to be somewhere quiet and alone with Katt—even after everything that had happened.

Within a few seconds of their eyes adjusting to the darkness, they spotted the telltale amethyst glow of the fungi. It lurked in tin cans, beneath cardboard boxes, inside innertubes—anywhere out of reach of the light and with ample pollution to feed off of. Already the mushrooms were working their magic; even after just a year of the reclamation program, Katt told him there was a difference in the water. It wasn't much, but it felt like every day the mycoremediation process was accelerating.

Together they drew their knives, setting to work cutting the mushrooms at the base of their trunks. They deposited the caps and stems in trash bags hung from their belts, leaving the roots behind or spreading them to other locations to further propagate.

Suddenly Falco's mind tingled—as if brushed by feathery whispers. He grabbed Katt's arm and pulled her into the mouth of a drainage culvert till the shadows covered them completely.

"Heh!" Katt yipped, "what're you—"

"Shhh!"

The pair kept perfectly still for a few moments, huddling together in the drainage pipe.

Katt's ears swiveled on her head. "I don't hear anything," she whispered.

But sure enough, the sound of footsteps scraping the asphalt approached overhead, as well as a pair of raspy voices. Falco and Katt held their breaths as the men drew closer till they were finally able to make out their words.

"…See? Nothin'. Was just your imagination again."

"But I coulda sworn I saws someone go this way!" the other hissed.

Their footsteps stopped right above the culvert, and one of their boots sent a small avalanche of gravel spilling into the sewage below.

"Heh, who'd be stupid enough to go for a swim in that muck?

"Well… maybe it was a bum or two!"

The first voice spat over the side, adding to the sewage. "Then if it was bums we ain't interested. Can't pick nothin' off a bum's pockets 'cept empty holes."

"But—!"

They heard the sound of clothes ruffling. "Aw come on! I don't wanna hafta make another stupid report to Grimmer about what's prolly nothin'. If you wanna waste your time chewin' off his ear, be my guest, by this is why I hate getting' paired with you for night watch. Now come on, let's find a bar that's still open and drink till we really see things…"

Finally they left the edge of the precipice above Falco and Katt, and the pair heard their footsteps disappear down the street. Only when Falco couldn't feel that particular tingling in his brain anymore did he exhale, and Katt followed suit.

Falco jumped out from the pipe and turned to give Katt a hand down. Together they returned to gathering supplies, though they both felt warier.

"You know you didn't have to come," Falco said, voice muffled through his gas mask. "You… really sure you wanna be here with me?"

"Why? Because it's not safe? Because… he might find out?"

"Yeah."

Katt stayed quiet for a while, then nodded. "I already made my decision. It's inevitable he'll learn about the Free Birds and… me. So until that moment comes, I don't want to live in fear, like every day might be my last."

A long silence stretched on, only broken by their gentle sloshes through the water and the rustling of their trash bags. Even the nearby streets and overhead bridges remained silent, the honking of horns from the city center eaten by the labyrinth of buildings.

"You seem oddly-quiet tonight," Falco pointed out.

"Hm? Oh." Katt deposited a clump of the mushrooms into her bag, handling it gingerly with her gloves. "I didn't think I was being quieter than usual. You're… just imagining it."

Falco turned to her. "Come on, you can tell me. What's been eating you lately?" He looked rather frightening in his plague mask, a clump of glowing mushrooms in one hand, a knife in the other—yet he didn't faze Katt at all.

"Well, it's just… Sometimes I can't help but think that what we're doing is dangerous."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I know you're worried about—"

"I'm not talking about Grimmer. Falco… do you have any idea how many friends of mine overdosed?"

"I know, I know. I've lost friends the same way." He dropped the mushrooms and took her hand with his glove, rubbing her knuckles. "…I almost lost someone very dear to me recently, too. But the Free Birds never messed with the dangerous shit; not back then, and not now. This stuff's… different."

"But how can you say that for sure? How do you know?"

"I just know, okay?" He wiped his mask with the back of his glove. "Look, ever since I had a taste of Corruption, I've felt this-this connection with everyone here."

"You take that stuff?!" Katt interrupted. "Falco, a dealer never partakes!"

He shook his head. "That's where you're wrong. A dealer should never spread what he doesn't use himself. Corruption is on the level, Katt. It's not like Allusion; it's not like anything else. It doesn't make you lazy, or complacent, or fixated on the past. It doesn't ruin your life. It breaks down walls between people; it puts you in the present, and slaps you awake to how everyone's feeling around you. I… I wish you'd try it sometime—in place of Allusion."

Katt wrung her hands awkwardly.

"Have you taken it since?" he asked, quietly.

"…Yes," she admitted in a whisper. She turned her back to him, busying herself with picking more mushrooms. "I don't think I should try it, Falco. It sounds… frightening. Besides, it wouldn't help me kick Allusion. Nothing would. I'd just become addicted to both."

"But it's not addictive like that; it's even helped others kick—!"

She held up her hand. "Please… please don't you push something on me, too."

Falco clamped his beak shut. "…Sorry. I won't pressure you into anything. But I hope it's easier for you, now that I'm staying with you and the Free Birds are back together, too."

She turned to him, and somehow he knew she was smiling under her mask. "It is easier, having you all back—but it won't solve everything for me." She sighed. "I dunno, Falco. I think I just have to beat this for myself; no one can do it for me."

He nodded. "Maybe not—but if you need our help, we'll be there."

"Thanks…" She tied up her first bag, then opened a second. "I hope you're not doing this just for me, Falco. I appreciate it, but I don't want to put you or anyone else in danger to solve my problems. It's been almost a month. You brought everyone back together, you've raised lots of money and bought me the parts I need, and the Free Birds have more members than we ever had before—but what's your goal in all this? I mean, besides helping me. Do you want money? Power in 13? Fame?"

He crossed his arms. "And what should I be doing?"

"Well… helping Zoness!" She tapped her chest. "Maybe I shouldn't have gotten with Grimmer, but I'm trying to work with him and use him—any small way I can. I took over the mechanic shop to help repair things that were broken—even things that everyone else said were a lost cause; but I don't believe Zoness is."

"And you think you're making a big difference that way?"

She huffed. "Well, maybe not on my own, but I'm still doing my part—and if everyone helped together, we'd make a change."

"Yes, but the problem is no one's working together." He began counting off on his fingers: "Corneria ain't helping. All they do is send relief shipments and a slow trickle of experiments from Andross' labs; they don't amount to more than a band-aid on the planet. All the construction materials are being funneled someplace else—God knows where."

He extended a second finger.

"The Bureaus won't help; they don't have the resources, and what little Cornerian handouts they get they exploit and wield over the people to cement their power."

A third finger.

"All those rich elites who vacation here won't do anything 'cept for publicity—to spread their own brand. They're all floating above our heads in their expensive yachts and pleasure cruisers."

Fourth finger.

"The Black Dragonfish and the rest of the cartels won't help. They just hide in the shadows, pulling puppet strings from the underground. They thrive on chaos like this—and if they really are supplying Grimmer with Allusion, that's proof they aren't looking out for District 13."

Katt seemed taken aback by his impassioned rant, and Falco had to admit he'd been bottling that up inside for a while. "Well, what about Star Fox?" she asked.

"Star Fox?!" Fifth finger. "Star Fox doesn't exist anymore. Fox disappeared, Slippy has a comfy desk job, and Peppy's investigating some sort of wild conspiracy. I may have gotten the Free Birds back together, but I can't work a miracle and reunite Star Fox from the corners of the galaxy." Falco sighed, resuming gathering mushrooms. "It's not that simple anymore. I wish it was, but the war is over. There's no one left to fight. We can't just shoot down all of our problems like we used to—it ain't that black-and-white. I'm on my own now; I have to do with my life as I see fit."

"So, what?" Katt gestured around them. "All you plan to do is wallow in the mud for the rest of your life?"

"Someone has to dirty their hands to make the system a better place. Like it or not, I'm alone, and I'm not gonna wait for another Star Fox team to come along and sweep me up so I can make a difference."

Katt bit her lip for a second, mulling over his answer. "Falco, wait…"

The bird stopped in his tracks, turning back to face her expectantly.

"Yeah?"

"You got one thing wrong…"

She stepped forward and hugged him, even in the middle of all the waste and mire.

"You're not alone in this."