While it was clear that most of the crew had little sentimentality towards our current headquartered vessel, I found our new Great Fox charming in its own fashion.
It was a decommissioned Cornerian assault cruiser that had seen better days. After having lost our first Great Fox during the end of the Aparoid invasion, Fox managed to purchase this ship for a reasonably low price for what it was and for its size and had good accommodating space for our Arwings and living quarters. I too missed our bright white gleaming star that was our former mothership, but this had to do for now. We needed many more credits before we could hope to obtain a ship as grand as her again.
In the meantime, however, I made a right home here for myself. I had plans to purchase a permanent home on Corneria in the near future, but I currently found everything that I had always longed for right here aboard this ship. After having spent most of my life living on my own, whether it be on the streets of Corneria or the rainforests of Fortuna, having room and board on a spaceship was a luxury I had always longed for. But most importantly of all, I felt like I part of a family.
My parents, along with all traces of my home planet of Cerinia, had vanished from existence a short while after I was born. I never had the privilege of being part of a family, and I believed that I had finally found one with Star Fox. And being that my escort mission with Falco had finally been wrapped up in the early hours of our morning cycle, it was almost time for breakfast by the time we returned and docked our Arwings inside one of two hangers inside the Great Fox II.
I foresaw little chance that any more semi-lucrative contracts would be sent our way today, so I saw fit to switch out of my flight suit and into my cosy 'home clothes', which consisted nothing more of white sweatpants and a red sweater—both of which were two sizes too big for me. I was discovering myself to be the type of girl who liked to tuck her hands and feet inside her sleeves. I had never known comfort like this before.
I presently had my feet swabbed inside my leg sleeves as I ate with the rest of the crew at the single table in the mess hall. Although, I was the only one eating while the others were distracting themselves. Our mechanic, Slippy Toad, was preoccupied with tinkering with a remote control of some kind, grabbing at disassembled parts he was keeping in his empty glass while his food was getting neglected. He often needed to remember to eat regularly when he was busy with his latest passion project.
Falco was sitting on the other end of the table from me, reading the latest stories on his holo-tablet while absentmindedly shovelling seeds in his mouth with a spoon, likely trying to see where the most activity in the Lylat system was popping. Peacetime was a challenge for our poor danger-seeking Falco, but I had faith that he would eventually learn to appreciate the downtime. And then there was Fox McCloud; our fierce, heroic, and compassionate team leader was currently managing our financial debts on his holo-tablet. I had been told before that his late father, James McCloud, had taken out an eighty-year loan to pay for the previous Great Fox after forming the original team that Fox was now left with to manage. Payments had been running behind since we had to purchase another ship to keep our operations afloat.
It was moments like this when I missed having Peppy here. He had retired to Corneria a little while after the Aparoid invasion was thwarted. The last we heard he had gotten a job at the side of General Pepper, who was already a longtime friend of his. Had he still been here he would have chewed out these boys for paying more attention to their devices rather than the food in front of them. I truly missed his company, and the others did too, but he had earned this time to himself after giving us the literal window for us to kill the Aparoid queen, though it did come at the cost of the previous Great Fox.
Since nobody seemed up for discussion at the moment, I just sat and enjoyed my food, which was a hearty plate of various meats. The prepackaged portions I was eating right now were still leagues better than the giant insects I ate when I lived on Fortuna, or even anything I ate on Sauria for that matter. I was so content with myself that, for the last week or so, I had begun to eat with my feet on the floor as opposed to having my legs curled up at the edge of my seat. This was an old habit I was trying to ease now that I didn't have to watch my back when I was eating. I didn't need to be ready to take off in a hurry if I were caught by surprise. It felt nice.
"In, in, in iiiiiiin…there we go," Slippy announced, mostly to himself, though it was enough to shift my eyes to him.
"Hmm, it looks like you've finished," I observed, noting that all the stray pieces from his glass were gone, used up in the construction of that controller in his hand. There were dozens of pieces in that glass not a minute ago. I continuously marvelled at Slippy's mastery over machinery.
"I sure did!" he glanced at me, a quiet confidence twinkling in his amphibious eyes as he twirled his screwdriver in his fingers. I looked at the controller in his other hand for a moment quizzically.
"...What exactly did you finish?" I asked.
"That's a good question," he added, looking over to Fox and Falco, who were both half-conscience of what was being discussed. "Can any of you guys guess what I've made here?"
Falco made the greatest effort to engage by turning his head a couple of degrees as he looked. "Ah; a wireless controller for the VIC-2000. Thanks, Slip. All the wired ones that came with the ship were trashy anyway," he said, returning to look at his tablet, though the smirk he was suppressing made it clear that he was deliberately toying with our eager friend, which Slippy did not appreciate too much.
"No. Give it another try?" Slippy insisted.
"One of those camouflage thingies for our ships you said you would finish at some point before we died of old age?" Falco suggested, making an effort not to snicker at his own joke as he chewed on some more seeds.
"I w-wouldn't work on those up here! I keep them down in the hanger bay. Too much grease on the mahogany, you know?" Slippy huffed, beginning to stutter again now that his nerves were getting stoked up, which was something Falco sometimes did deliberately.
"I don't think I could venture a guess, Slip," Fox finally said, lifting his eyes from his tablet. "How about you tell us?"
Slippy started to regain his composure again once Fox gave him his attention. His audience was always a rousing one. "Gladly," Slippy smiled eagerly, putting down his screwdriver to hold the device in both of his hands. "This is what I'm hoping will be the beginning of the end of our problems with ROB's linguistic deficiencies."
Myself, Fox, and Falco just looked at each other with a little confusion. "What deficiencies?" Fox asked.
Slippy blanked for a short moment before he dawned a look of realization. "Oh, right, I guess you guys haven't been with him for as long as I have now that we've settled in," he clarified. "I took a peek inside that mechanical cranium of his the other day―routine maintenance and all―and saw that some of his linguistics chips are starting to corrode. He's been giving me stats that aren't precise enough, and I gotta know every detail when I'm working on the upgrades to our Arwings. So yes, Falco, you all will be getting them soon enough." The tone in his voice was irritated as Falco put up his blue feathered arms in resignation—though he didn't appear too hung up about it.
"You don't say," Fox said, pulling at the fur on his chin. "Having ROB deliver incomplete readouts would be a problem. Shouldn't we just replace those chips then? They're a necessity."
"Sure, but also pricy, and we're not exactly made of money nowadays," Slippy said, to which Fox shrugged in understanding.
"So, what kind of wondrous gizmo did you conjure up this time, Slip? You have an economical solution for our robotic operating buddy?"
"I have one for everything! M-Most of the time, anyway," Slippy said, stuttering a bit again. It was a non-effort for me to subconsciously hear his anxious thoughts. Slippy was often anxious, partly because of his vital role on the team and his general lack of outstanding social skills. He was pretty good at concealing this, but his stuttering would give it away. I found these traits endearing nevertheless.
"A-Anyway," Slippy resumed, "It's still in its infancy, but I'm testing out a new kind of software that is intended to remotely update ROB's speaking functions without the need for a manual hookup. Sooner or later, I hope to be able to improve ROB remotely on command when the software becomes available. Components like ROB's linguistics chips can upgrade themselves, increasing power efficiency, and increasing their longevity by at least twenty per cent—give or take."
Fox looked amused. "That sounds promising, Slip," he said, relaxing a bit in his chair. "If there's any guy I know who could pull that off it's you."
"No one else can," Slippy said, puffing out his inflatable chin with a little ounce of contained pride. He would have made a wet croak if he were any more excitable.
"Fascinating stuff, Slip," Falco commented, setting his tablet down as he decided to become involved in the conversation. "By the way you're talking, you sound like you're already a decent way along in making this advancement a reality. You have a demonstration ready?"
"You guys know me too well," Slippy said, retaining that satisfied gleam on his face. Spinning around a bit in his seat, Slippy faced the pantry on the other end of the mess hall. "Hey, ROB! Are you ready to show off?"
The door to the pantry slid open to reveal ROB 64 standing inside before stiffly stepping out into the open. "AS READY AS YOU WERE TO CONCEAL ME INSIDE THIS CONFINED SPACE FOR THE SAKE OF THIS PRE-PLANNED DEMONSTRATION." the robot announced with that straightforward computer monotone voice of his. ROB was technically not programmed for humour, but his deadpanned honesty in certain situations could sometimes fish a chuckle out of me.
ROB began stiffly marching towards us as his glossy brass metal body glimmered beneath the ceiling lights while his red visor glowed softly. Both Fox and Falco knitted their brows as they stared at ROB, who now stood silently before our table. "Hmm. There doesn't seem to be anything wrong with him," Fox observed.
"Exactly!" Slippy said. "You just heard ROB speak a full sentence without any hiccups. The trial run of that new software is already working its magic, and I haven't laid a finger on any of his chips."
"Yeah… I guess his words had been a little choppy at times," Fox recalled, getting more curious about our robot friend's state. "How are you feeling, buddy?"
"I DO NOT TRANSMIT BODILY SENSATION IN THE SAME WAY ORGANIC LIFEFORMS DO, BUT I AM OPERATING SOUNDLY," ROB reported. "SLIPPY TOAD'S MODIFICATIONS HAVE BEEN PERFORMING WITHOUT MALFUNCTION, THOUGH A FINAL ANALYSIS CANNOT BE CONCLUDED UNTIL THE TRIAL SOFTWARE HAS ENDED."
"Hey, that's always good news," Falco said, leaning back into his chair with his wings behind his head. "So, what's that remote for again, Slip? I don't think I was paying enough attention to remember."
Slippy gave Falco a passive glare before straightening his jacket. "I was gonna get to that," he said, holding up his remote more prominently. "In addition to all that's been mentioned, I've paralleled ROB's advancements with this nifty peripheral here. It's supposed to modulate his mannerisms; make him speak less like a computer and more like rad dude, y'all catch my drift?"
Slippy spoke his latter words in a manner that I guessed was meant to mimic the speech of today's youth, which annoyed Falco as he rubbed his eyes. Fox's curiosity, however, was not deterred as he looked at the remote. "Interesting. Have you tested it out yet?"
"Never until now," Slippy admitted. "So now we'll all get to see how this works."
I retracted my feet off the floor and closed my arms around my legs as I watched Slippy punch in a few digits on the remote's keypad. He then flipped a switch on the side of the device, and ROB's red visor flashed a couple of times before returning to its normal state. I waited in anticipation for whatever might follow, and so did Fox and Falco.
"Hey, ROB?" Slippy asked. "Is there anything you'd like to say?"
ROB turned his head to Slippy in his usual robotic manner and said, "...SYSTEMS PERFORMING OPTIMALLY. WHAT IS UP WITH YOU…DOG?"
Slippy perked up a little bit more after hearing that while the rest of us watched with intrigue. That was certainly different. "Hey, that's a start!" he said, configuring some more of the controls.
"AFFIRMATIVE. THE START OF SOMETHING WICKED FIERCE," ROB continued. "I CRAVE THE LUBRICANT, FROG BOY. IT HAS BEEN STELLAR CYCLES SINCE MY LAST FIX. YOU TRYNNN' TO GIVE MY ROBOTIC ATHRITUS…PUNK…DOG?"
A faint spark could be seen briefly igniting within ROB'S head after he struggled to say those last couple of words. Slippy looked a little less thrilled after he noticed this, but Falco was tickled. "Heh, heh. Yeah, frog boy. Why're you keeping him from his oil? Robby ain't no fool."
ROB suddenly swivelled his head directly at Falco after a spark flew from his head. "TAKES ONE TO KNOW ONE, BIRD BRAIN!" ROB said in a grating metallic shout that startled me and everybody—especially Falco. "YOUR FAVORITE ICE CREAM FLAVOR IS PISTACHIO?! ONLY COCKALORIC DODOS FIND THAT APATISING!"
Falco's eyes were wide with shock after having that delivered onto him, and I was no less stunned that ROB was suddenly capable of such aggressive insults. ROB then immediately turned to Fox and did not spare him any of his newfound verbal wrath. "YOU LOOK LIKE THE SORT WHO WOULD EAT INDUSTRIAL PUTTY AND ENJOY IT!"
Fox grimaced with indignance before ROB fixed his merciless gaze on me. Never has our robot navigator managed to intimidate me this much before. "RED IS NOT YOUR COLOUR," was all that ROB managed to say to me. I hardly had a second to ponder my jab before ROB turned on Slippy.
"WHY HAVE YOU DONE THIS TO ME, STEPFATHER?!" he wailed in metallic dismay. "YOU HAVE MADE ME INTO A VERBAL MONSTER! YOU HAVE FORSAKEN MY INNOCENT AND LOVABLE PROGRAMING! UNDO ME! UNDO ME! UNDO! UNDO! UNDO!"
ROB's motor functions were becoming as erratic as his offensive speech as he started banging the table hard with his pincer hands as he demanded deliverance. I had to lift my plate off the table over how violently ROB was inflicting his distress on it. Having seen and heard enough, Slippy carefully reached around to ROB's back and manually set him into sleep mode, which made his whole mechanical body seize and erect. "THANK…YOU…" he uttered, his metallic voice lowering in pitch as his visor went dark and his head tilted downwards.
Everybody was hesitant to move; ROB had never behaved like that before, and nobody, not even I, was eager to discover if any sudden movements would potentially set him off again—even in sleep mode. Slippy slumped back down into his seat again, his once optimistic complexion having been sullied by this malfunction. "Okay… Got a c-c-c-couple of k-kinks to work out," he said, rubbing his forehead warily. "Maybe the boredom's getting to me too, I-I-I dunno. This was a dumb idea anyway…"
"I think it'll be a profound addition with some more fine-tuning," I spoke up, trying to be supportive. It always fascinated me how easily I was able to make the whole room look at me by merely uttering a few words. "Keep at it, Slippy. I'm sure something good will come of it."
Slippy looked at me a little doubtfully, but he gave a weary smile with an accompanying shrug. "Y-Yeah. Potentially," he shrugged.
"If you're gonna keep messing with our pal here, I'd suggest you program some more common sense into him," Falco sternly advised. "No one just disses on pistachio ice cream like that…"
Poor Falco. He looked so perturbed as he dwelt on ROB's senseless critique of his favourite ice cream. He bared the exact same look he had after I had once sincerely told him that I thought his eyes were prettier than mine. Fox started to relax a bit more now that the tension from the demonstration had died down.
"No hard feelings, Falco, but ROB did have a point," he said with a little smirk, garnering a glare from Falco, "Vanilla will always be the best in any instance anyway."
"Of course, you'd be partial to the plainest one there is," Falco rolled his eyes.
"l-like mint," Slippy suggested. "I think I'd be that if I were ice cream."
"'Cause you're green or something?" Falco raised an eyebrow.
"Maybe?" Slippy said, tapping a slightly anxious finger on the table.
Falco shrugged before looking at me. "What about you, blue stuff?"
It was funny to me whenever he would call me that. Being blue in colour himself made him feel like he held the license to address me as such. It would always make the others give him scolding stares, but I was always humoured by it like I was now. "Well, I think I like butterscotch."
Falco looked like he thought I was joking. "And here I thought Fox was the only one without taste."
"Whatever you say, pistachio puke," I jibbed back, almost competitively, as the whole table engaged in a mostly civilized debate on which frozen dessert prevailed over all the rest. This was how most of our meals together would play out; everybody always had a bone to pick with each other about something, but it was all in good spirits. I was grateful to have a place in it.
Around the time when we were all just about to finish our plates, I finally proposed the idea of that holiday to Sauria that myself and Falco had discussed earlier over to Fox and Slippy. Predictably, Slippy received the idea with utmost enthusiasm, and I had assumed Fox would entertain the vision as well, but the brief flicker in his emerald eyes confused me because it was not one of interest our disinterest.
"Oh…no kidding. Would you both be up for that?" he asked, his face showing excitement otherwise.
"I would not pressure anybody into it anytime soon, but maybe at some point in the near future?" I added. "It's just an idea."
"But a good idea," Slippy nodded with insistence. "I'm up for it if anybody else is. Things have been pretty quiet lately, and I don't think we've done nearly enough to treat ourselves ever since we killed the Aparoid queen."
"You're telling me," Falco added. "I haven't seen much of Sauria for myself. Could be interesting to check out."
"Its wonders are of plenty supply," Fox said, looking away from me. "But I'm not sure. I feel like I need to iron out some debts first. A few more jobs should cover some of the larger ones."
"Fox, the loan that your dad took out covered eighty years," Falco reminded, looking unamused. "I'm pretty sure your grandkids are gonna still be paying for it by the time you'll bite the dust—maybe even longer if peace is here to stay in Lylat. Take a load off for once, will ya?"
Slippy nodded pleadingly at Fox, who had seemed to temporarily disconnect from the conversation as he pondered our desires. I didn't think much of it at the time, but Fox's mood seemed to have shifted. That look he gave me sort of stayed with me, almost like seeing spots with your eyes closed after gazing into a bright light. "We'll see," he finally said. "I want to be sure that I'm able to square away a few payments first before we can start planning for any vacation."
"It wouldn't even be for long if that's what you're worried about," I promised, hoping to persuade him. "Besides, I'm curious to see how well Tricky is doing running the EarthWalker kingdom, and I'm sure he would love to see you again."
Fox managed to look at me, and a look of cautious resignation conveyed itself on his face. Again, this was not an expression he commonly displayed. "Okay, Krystal. I'll sleep on it. We all can talk more about it in the morning."
"Which morning? On Fichina? It ain't like we really have mornings on a ship in space anyways," Falco asked in an annoyed tone. I sensed his annoyance with Fox in his unwillingness to relent from his responsibilities for even a short while for the sake of his team.
"Don't start, Falco," Fox warned. "Does 'later' sound more manageable?"
"Whatever."