StarFox Fan Fiction ❯ The Shards of a Broken Krystal ❯ Fallen Angel ( Chapter 8 )

Disclaimer: Surprise. I don't own the Star Fox series or any of its characters. I do, however, own the story. Keep that in mind before you steal it.

 

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The Shards of a Broken Krystal - by Staindgrey

 

Chapter VIII - Fallen Angel

 

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Fox couldn't sleep. It was just that simple. At his father's wish, he'd tried- he'd tried about as hard on this undemanding task as he had on any mercenary work he'd ever been assigned to. But, memories plagued him like a disease, and they only worsened when he forced his eyes closed. For this reason, his dry, emerald oculars remained open, transfixed on the ceiling above him with all the liveliness of a porcelain doll's. His body lay motionless beneath his plain, green comforter- well, parts of it anyway. His exposed left foot, right pectoral and arbitrarily outstretched arms were evidence of a tossing, turning night of conscious turmoil for the fox, every wrinkle in the wadded blanket signifying yet another agony that refused to loosen its grip on his brain. His bloodshot eyes continued to stare a hole through the chrome ceiling above as his lungs slowly breathed in the artificial atmosphere, only to heave it out in a forlorn sigh shortly after.

 

Inside Fox's mind, a war was raging that, to him, far surpassed any Lylatian war of his time or anyone else's. His brain was painfully multitasking between thoughts of Krystal, whether they were happy, sad, or fearful, and thoughts of his team, of his father, and of his mother. At the moment, he was beginning to lose himself in the memories of his parents and the shock of his dead father reemerging so suddenly. To him, it was too good to be true, to all of a sudden be aboard the same ship as his thought-to-be-late dad, having father-son conversations with him and flying as his wingman... It was like a dream come true, only far better than anything he had even thought of imagining. Before yesterday, when James had arrived at the Great Fox hangar with a half dead ship, Fox had never wanted to get his hopes up about his father's survival only to have them trounced. He had never let himself even suppose that James McCloud was alive; he'd convinced himself that what he saw that fateful day on Venom was nothing more than a mirage, a ghost, a vision... Something other than real. He couldn't explain what exactly the apparition was, but he absolutely refused to let himself believe that that really was the great James McCloud, his father, who saved him...

 

“Never give up... Trust your instincts.” The words of the elder fox still rang in his ears as if they had just been spoken. That was always his motto, his insight on life the way he chose to live it. When Andross activated a hidden self-destruct program inside his Venom base to drag Fox down with him to the afterlife, Fox, for once, truly feared for his life. When he first came down into Venom's depths to face Emperor Oikinni alone, he didn't feel near as much apprehension as he thought he would at this do-or-die moment. Instead, his thoughts were filled with rage, hatred, and bloodlust for the gorilla that killed both of his parents. But now, after finally defeating that cold-hearted ape in even colder blood, the adrenaline high was gone, the need for revenge was lost, and fear for his life flooded the now empty gaps that they left behind. He couldn't escape in time. His Arwing was trashed. He had no shields and no teammates around to try and save him. All odds were stacked heavily against him, and for this brief moment in his life, he truly had lost all hope.

 

That was when he heard it: the long-forgotten voice of James McCloud, the original leader and founder of the Star Fox team and the deceased father of Fox himself. The ghost spoke with the diligence of a commander, the strength of a warrior, and the compassion of a father all in that short, motivational phrase: “Don't ever give up, my son.”

 

“Father...?” was all Fox could even think of saying. The image on his monitor had to be a hallucination. He was losing his mind in some sort of end of life sequence, and he was now picturing his father who he was going to meet in heaven in just a few moments. That had to be it; it was the only rational explanation, regardless of how much his conscience wanted to retort it. But as the blinding white light of Andross's bomb began to fade, he saw it: the old-fashioned Arwing of James F. McCloud. Though it was aged and in a desperate need of a new coat of paint, it flew ahead of him like a guardian angel towards the hangar's exit, leaving behind it a stream of bright red after burn to guide his son through. As if to either taunt or encourage the bewildered, younger McCloud, James's face came back onscreen, his expression that of determination behind his standard ebony shades. “Follow me, Fox.”

 

Fox followed, the fiery explosions and crumbling framework of the underground base once again alerting him that he was in life-threatening peril. Whether he was imagining this or not no longer mattered; saving his own hide was first priority. He jetted after the smaller Arwing, just able to keep up as James swerved through the winding path with all the confidence and ease of someone who had rehearsed the course many times before. Fox narrowly missed the enclosed walls himself, unable to slow down for the tight turns lest he be devoured by the incoming wall of fire behind him. As they continued on their race against death, James tried to further invigorate his son with his motto, “Never give up... Trust your instincts,” just as Peppy had told the young fox so many times before. The words echoed inside his mind as they took full effect, pushing Fox past his limit as he flew for his life, and after his father.

 

At last, he could see a ray of light from Solar, outlining the Wyvern ahead of him and giving it a further impression of a guardian angel as it hung like a silhouette just before the exit. As Fox's shield gage continued going crazy, alerting him loudly of his impending doom with a thunderous, redundant siren, James's face once again came onto his monitor. His muzzle was stretched into a heartwarming smile, one of fatherly pride for his son, and with a hushed voice like the calm of the breeze amidst a storm, he spoke.

 

“You've become so strong, Fox...”

 

Fox gradually drifted out of the eight year old memory only to fall headfirst into another one. Before his eyes was the undeniable image of his mother, Victoria McCloud, looking down at him with emerald eyes that personified compassion. Her face was just as striking, her muzzle spread into the shape of a motherly smile along her beautiful, light tan fur as if it were painted on to perfection with the creator's own brush. Her ears were small and slender for a vixen, as were most of her other features, but all Fox could picture now was that face... the expression of complete adoration... the look that only a loving mother could give. He had not seen that face in over twenty years. How he remembered it so vividly sometimes shocked him, but he couldn't shake the image even if he wanted to. Just the same, however, he could never outrun the thoughts of her death that always seemed to follow his peaceful reminiscing of her.

 

He was there. He saw her body though he wasn't supposed to. She died in Dad's car after a bomb had self-detonated by the start of the engine. When he came home from school, he was greeted by flashing police and ambulance lights, military vehicles and yellow caution tape that barred the press and spectators from coming any closer. That was his home; that was where mommy was. Fox remembered dropping his bag like a dead weight as he ran through the crowd, crying out his mother's name and violently pushing away anyone who stood in his path. Tears were beginning to form at the corners of his wide, jade eyes, but they were only a prelude to the waterfalls that were to come. There was his mother, the woman who had raised him from birth and never left his side no matter what; the woman who, when daddy was gone, was there to play with him and comfort him and feed him and tuck him into bed... There she was, being covered with a white blanket by a coroner who didn't have to do much more than look at the mangled body to pronounce her dead. Almost immediately after the pallid sheet came to rest, spots of crimson bled through its pure fabric, flooding through it like a spreading disease. Fox reached out an arm and cried for her to come out, for his mommy to talk to him and once again tell him everything was okay... But instead he was pulled back by a police officer who told him to leave and that he didn't belong here, that he didn't belong here with his mommy. The young, motherless pup cried out to heaven until his vocal chords were about to snap, then continued to scream as his fur became a matted mess from his streaming tears. Another officer came to help, both now pulling him back towards the crowd and past the yellow tape. Fox kicked and yelped and sobbed like a rabid beast, but his mommy wouldn't come out. She lay there, motionless and dead, like she would be forevermore...

 

Finally, Fox had had it. It had been over five hours and still, he couldn't remember gaining one ounce of sleep. He shook his head violently to try and rid himself of the sudden resurgence of memories as he sat up, pushing the comforter off of him and kicking his legs off to the side of the bed. He placed his feet on the cold floor and lifted himself up with a push off the mattress, feeling his body ache a little from lack of real rest. Clad in nothing more than his undergarments, he trudged over to his closet on the other side of the room and began to fit himself for his oncoming mission. Perhaps if he could find Krystal, if he could just find her and get her to forgive him, maybe then he could return to his normal sleeping habits. But until then, he was a mess and he knew it. He'd already felt the heartbreak of losing his mother and then, allegedly, his father; he wasn't about to let himself feel that same agonizing pain again. He was going to find Krystal... or die trying.

 

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Rain had begun to pour from the sky like a shower fountain, starting with a small wave of droplets and turning into an overabundant mass of water with flashes of lightning in the distance. Krystal, feeling the storm rage both outside her body and in her heart, had been dreadfully silent on this trek to the Sharpclaw stronghold just outside the force point temple. Tricky was just as noiseless with pitiful thoughts of his own overtaking him. They were surrounded by the horde of Sharpclaw that had captured them, and they walked steadily while they were constantly bickered and pushed around by their captivators.

 

Each hostage had their own reason to remain quiet, but both reasons were those of shame. Krystal felt ashamed for releasing the Krazoa spirit, in a sense, for her enemies. Tricky felt even guiltier for getting caught in the first place, which brought them both here. Both prisoners' eyes were half shut and aimed at the ground, almost lifelessly. Tricky had a harness and a larger green Sharpclaw pulling it forcefully at his side. Krystal's arms were tied tightly behind her back, and her bag of belongings was currently being sorted through by a couple of the small, blue Sharpclaw at her left. She would have loved to at least attempt to fight off every one of them back at the shrine entrance, but a spear at the Earthwalker Prince's throat convinced her not to. She was now playing the role of the damsel in distress once again, just as Fox had feared she would become. Perhaps he was right... she thought agonizingly to herself, Maybe I am too soft for him... She looked to the sky with her newly violet-colored eyes and heaved a sigh, thinking, If you saw me now, like this... what would you do, Fox?

 

Her train of thought was quickly derailed by the blunt end of a club poking her in the back and a scratchy, reptilian voice snarling, “Boof nucbadw.” Keep walking. Krystal quickened her pace a little to suffice his demand, then looked to Tricky at her right. His expression was the epitome of guilt with his once playful eyes now dead and a grimace overcoming his scaly qualities. She could sense great misery stemming from him; she could understand why. He had gone ahead of his father, the Earthwalker King, against his permission, and had now let himself get caught by the enemy. She wasn't sure if his capture was how the Sharpclaw had caught her or if they had already planned this from the start, but regardless, she was sure that was the cause of his self-inflicted pain. She wanted to reach out and pet his brow and tell him everything was going to be okay, but the knotted ropes at her wrists didn't allow her to do so.

 

As they continued walking, she whispered to him, “Tricky...”

 

“I'm sorry,” was all that escaped his lips. He didn't even glance up at the vixen, too ashamed to look her in the eyes. Tricky had never been like this, at least that she had ever seen of him. She gave him a hint of a smile to try and cheer him up, though he wouldn't see it.

 

“It's not your fault,” she attempted to console him.

 

“Yes it is,” he barked back in a hush. “You told me to stay out of sight, but they found me. Then they went straight to the shrine and found you, and now-” Tricky's air was suddenly cut off as he felt a yank on his neck. He was pulled off of his front feet for a moment then quickly let go, giving him just enough of a jerk to shut him up.

 

“Jxikif,” the Sharpclaw scolded in Saurian. Tricky returned his gaze to the ground and coughed, then remained silent as he was told.

 

They were almost to the stronghold now, as Krystal could see through the mess of raindrops that continued to beat against her eyes and snout. They were traveling up the steep path to get there, and it was now coming into full view. The place was a simple wooden shack extending between the two walls of the miniature valley, but it was sturdy enough to ward out most visitors when properly manned. The uphill path leading towards it gave it a strong advantage over any intruders. If Tricky's father could find them- which Krystal supposed that once he found no one at Moon Mountain Pass, this would be the next obvious location of the Sharpclaw- it would be an incredibly tough uphill battle for him and his troops. Krystal felt all the more mortified as she thought of the casualties that would result from her mistake; she supposed she really was no more than a damsel in distress. She was the last of her kind, a proud and dignified warrior race, and here she was, being held at the mercy of these scum like a caged dog. Adrenaline was beginning to boil inside her, but it did little good with tied up hands and a throng of Sharpclaw warriors waiting to tear her apart. She knew that she was being taken to their leader, whoever it was, and that he would try to either keep her as bait for some bigger scheme or try to use the Krazoa Spirit within her for his own purposes. She supposed the latter, but the prior was still a possibility at this point. No normal Sharpclaw could possibly scheme so far ahead, but it was possible that someone bigger was pulling the strings... The thought made Krystal mentally tremble as she pondered on who that could be.

 

At last, the group reached the entrance of the stronghold, and Krystal was violently pushed in, knocking her to the floor as she lost her balance. The abuser had grabbed her by her left arm, reopening the wound that had for the most part healed by now. Krystal winced as she felt the stinging sensation of fresh blood coming in contact with air, but wasted no time in pushing herself back up to her knees and then to her feet. She was soaked and wanted to shake the excess water off the best she could, but she decided against it, hoping not to aggravate the reptiles around her that held her fate in their hands. She noticed that Tricky was left outside, since he couldn't fit among the gathering of two-legged dinosaurs, and tried her best to give him a reassuring smile, but his pleading eyes left her unable to do much of anything. He was then violently yanked backward again, bringing a grunt of pain through his clenched throat as he fell backwards and out of the doorway.

 

The inside of the small bunch of rooms was littered with more Sharpclaw than the group that had detained her and Tricky; they were all sitting, lying down, or leaning against something in a the best state of relaxation they could find. But, at the sight of the new prisoner, they all seemed to stiffen up a bit as their eyes searched for answers as to who she was. Krystal gave a visible grimace as she continued uselessly to try and undo the knot that clasped her hands together, bringing out a snicker from most of the reptiles watching from around her. She stopped her futile efforts, however, when she heard a low growl call out of to someone in particular.

 

“Nxe aj kxaj?” Who is this? The voice came from behind Krystal, and her ears perked visibly at its sound. She slowly turned to face its source, her now violet eyes revealing themselves to him as she did.

 

“Kxaj aj kxo xectoh ev kxo Krazoa Spirit, jah,” answered one of the nameless henchmen. Krystal didn't even notice that he had spoken as her widened eyes took in the entirety of quite possibly the largest Sharpclaw that she had ever seen. He was hunched over so that he could fit within the confines of the twelve foot tall ceiling, supporting himself with his forearms placed on his thighs and balancing on the balls of his feet. The torches lit behind him could barely been seen as they were eclipsed by his massive, muscled body, but their glow gave him a demon's essence to add to his devilish red eyes. His scales were the color of blood as well, and he was clad in an iron chest plate with spikes at the shoulders, a Sharpclaw general's golden helmet with two rising, zigzagging points on his head, and iron gauntlets that covered his entirety of his forearms up to the elbow. His large, crimson tail was wrapped around him to his right, coiled to the front of him and lying there like a weapon ready to be raised. He sneered at Krystal for a moment, then broke into a small yet thunderous titter, saying, “Hmph, A kxewxk ak neict'lo rood kxe Earthwalker Prince.” I thought it would've been the Earthwalker Prince. He scoffed a little, eyeing the vixen before him with curiosity. He asked his henchman who she was, but he apparently didn't have much of an answer to give.

 

The conversation between the apparent leader and his right hand man continued for a few moments, but Krystal had stopped paying attention to them by now. The sheer size of this Sharpclaw caught her completely off guard; she supposed that he could probably take on a Red Eye all by himself and win. Why these Sharpclaw wanted to revive General Scales with a guy like this already here to lead them, she wasn't sure. Perhaps he lacked the leadership skills the old general had- but then again, Scales always had been a horrible, ruthless dictator. Finally, Krystal was addressed, and she snapped back from her arbitrary muse.

 

“Je,” the superior began, “Oei kxadb oei julot kxo Krazoa, eh?” You think you saved the Krazoa? A sinister sneer lay painted upon his overly large mug as he spoke. The Sharpclaw surrounding him echoed his back-of-the-throat chuckle.

 

Krystal wondered what he was getting at, which was visibly shown by the cocking of her delicate, blue head. “A xulo de houjed dek ke rocaolo je,” she shot back with the sound of a genuine confidence. The Sharpclaw seemed to erupt with laughter at her words: I have no reason not to believe so.

 

“Veecajx cakkco wahc,” the leader taunted, “oei xedojkco kxadb no nudkot ke holalo kxuk rujkuht, Scales?” The entire group fell into a roaring guffaw that seemed to shake the building, as well as Krystal's confidence. Sure, she was a little upset with the `foolish little girl' part, but what did he mean, You honestly think we wanted to revive that- something she had never heard before, but she supposed it was derogatory- Scales? Krystal silently wondered what he meant. Did he have other intentions for the spirit inside her, or was the Krazoa not even needed?

 

She was enlightened on the subject in the next passing moments of the conversation. It seemed as though, now that she and Tricky were obviously of no threat, the excessively huge reptile was basking in his victory by spilling his entire plan; Krystal wondered if this was the way all the stereotypical baddies of this system went about their work. Regardless, her violet eyes widened as he told her that the Krazoa was a mere decoy, an overly obvious plot that would bring the Earthwalker King to Moon Mountain Pass with a small group of elites to stomp on the supposedly small bunch of Sharpclaw rebels. He let his group of twenty-eight get spotted by the surveillance Earthwalker troop at Krazoa Palace, and brought them back to Moon Mountain Pass where they would wait like sitting ducks until the Prince came.

 

“Kxo Prince?” Krystal interrupted, her jaw gaping a little bit at the sound of Tricky's title.

 

The oversized lizard nodded slowly, his sneer only gaining length as he continued. “Ooj. A opfoskot kxo Prince ke te jemokxadw uj hujx udt jkifat uj weadw veh kxo Krazoa ed xaj end.” Krystal quickly translated his words as, Yes. I expected the Prince to do something as rash and stupid as going for the Krazoa alone, but his last bit made her heart burn with fervor as the words rolled from his serpent tongue: A pure heart thinks of stupidity as heroism and ignorance as a good plot twist. You were both so utterly predictable; thank you for spelling the end of the Earthwalker King.

 

Krystal snarled at his words, expelling her sharpened pearly whites while her arms flexed to try and get free. Tricky, just outside, whimpered in defeat as he was once again struck in the back with a wooden club just to add to his misery. His sounds and thoughts of pure woe sent Krystal's already boiling blood over the edge, and she could feel herself about to snap. It wasn't often that she ever felt her primal instincts take her over, but the situation was too much. The huge Sharpclaw stood before her, crouched and guffawing with a roaring echo surrounding him, while Tricky's pure heart was being ripped to pieces. She, herself, felt torn apart as well, both kicking herself for being so easily fooled like this and for, as he said, being at fault for King Earthwalker's impending trial. She clenched her eyes shut while her nostrils flared, her arms still struggling with all their might to get free. The Sharpclaw around her were laughing obnoxiously at her attempts to free herself, shouting out random spurts of insults amidst their own mirth. She couldn't hear them though; she'd tuned out everything around her in her small moment of fury. In that instant, she was no longer the eye of the storm- she was the storm.

 

With a loud, shrieking howl, her eyes flew back open, now being replaced by a blank and horrifying white as if their pupils had been stripped right off of them. In an instant, the walls that the Sharpclaw were leaning against shattered at their bases, causing the rest of the wooden planks to crumble in turn. All of their expressions became flushed as they scurried out of the way, tripping over one another to avoid the falling mass of lumber. Their leader tried to bark orders in Saurian, but he was uselessly drowned out by Krystal's apparently endless cry and the sounds of chaos within the deteriorating stronghold. Not one loyalist would pay him attention as they were too concerned with their own life. The ceiling caved in from the middle, the bulk of it dropping down and crushing a number of Sharpclaw beneath its weight. The point of impact was behind the seemingly possessed Krystal and the hefty Sharpclaw leader, who still refused to leave at the mercy of the much smaller blue mammal.

 

Krystal, meanwhile, had completely lost herself in the moment. She didn't even realize what was going on or what she was doing. She felt nothing with her body, yet she felt every spiteful emotion possible consume her mind in a violent whirlwind. She screamed; she screamed as loudly and vigorously as her little voice box could. She felt her fervor take complete control of her. She imagined crumbling cities and mountains as her home planet began to tear apart... She imagined being trapped in a gemstone case, being helplessly drained of her life... She imagined a certain tan fox barking at her with a callous expression plastered upon his once loving face... “I don't want you to be a part of my life...” She relived every single bad memory she had, and then began to imagine them to their worst potential. Malice overcame her tormented mind like the flooding waters of a broken dam; she had completely lost control.

 

Just then, however, her nerves felt a small shock at her neck, trying to bring her back from her completely mental state. Her mind became more and more conscious of her surroundings as she felt herself being thrown ferociously into the air like a ball by her small neck. For a moment, she felt completely weightless and at a standstill in the air, and it was that moment that the plaster of white in her eyes began to fade and her expression turned to one of loss. The vixen then fell lifelessly to the ground below, slamming against it hard and further aggravating her sore right side. Her body hopped back into the air only to slam down again, this time on her front side, and at last skid to a halt, resulting in quite a few scrapes beneath her sapphire fur. Her eyes remained open, but lifeless, as she tried her best to regain consciousness. She began to feel the panicked thought patterns of the bewildered beings around her as softly as the tiny droplets of rain that pelted her fur with a constant pit-pat sound. Her ears then twitched at the sound of the massive leader's voice barking orders, but she couldn't completely figure out what he was saying. It was all a blur, like trying to listen to a conversation above ground from below the water's surface. The only thing she could completely take in now were the sounds of nature, the rain as it once again soaked her cobalt fur and the ringing sound of thunder booming in the distance. But the pain... The pain was becoming overwhelming throughout her body, and she simply wished for it to leave her be. At last, she gave up the fight to return to consciousness and let herself ease back into the beautiful bliss of unknowing, feeling numbness as the pain of her body was left behind like a bad memory. A small smile crept over her lips like the single raindrop that trailed along them as she once again fell unconscious, leaving a wet mess of wood and bodies in her wake.

 

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Fox rubbed his tired eyes and grunted as he set down the blowtorch for a moment. He was on a knee beneath his docked Arwing, trying to make the necessary repairs to his shielding on his own- something he hadn't done in years since Slippy was here. As he went, his memory was jogged little by little on how the mechanics worked, but with that time came an agonizing headache, stemming from the back of his neck and spreading through the rest of his head like wildfire. This recent lack of sleep was beginning to get to him, but he didn't have too much of a choice; he couldn't sleep as it was anyway. Besides, working on his Arwing proved to be a good time killer before Great Fox reached Sauria- plus, it kept him distracted. That was why he left Rob stationed on the bridge rather than fix his ship for him as he usually chose to do during the few times that Slippy was away.

 

Right now, however, he was beginning to regret that decision as his migraine began to take its toll. He brought his paw down forcefully from his dry eyes, placed the metal faceguard down again and went back to work with his blowtorch, lodging the newly added piece of metal to the older connection. As he diligently worked, he didn't even notice the opening door above him or the footsteps of his father walking into the hangar.

 

“Couldn't sleep?” Fox dropped what he was doing in an instant at the sound of his father's voice, raising his faceplate up above his brow and looking to where the sound came from with a tired grin.

 

“Nah,” was his laid-back reply as he crawled out from under the Arwing and stood back up. “Thought I'd finish what Bill's guys started before we got to Sauria.”

 

“Why don't you just take another one from storage?” James questioned, assuming that the new Great Fox was set up like his original, with a large storage compartment right above the docking bay for excess Arwings and Land Masters.

 

“Eh, I've been with this baby for a while now. I figured I'd rather fix her up than just scrap her and get a new one.”

 

“Yeah, I know the feeling,” James replied as he jumped down to Fox's level, landing solidly on his feet. “Little Wyvern and I have been through thick and thin together... Even though it was originally piloted by Pigma...” James quickly changed the subject before he dwelled on that double-crossing swine again. “So, how come you couldn't sleep? You can't tell me you're not tired; you have `exhausted' written all over your face.”

 

Fox chuckled a little as he looked away, pondering a quick answer. Deciding that it'd be best to lay down the truth for his old man, he answered, “Just some bad dreams, that's all.” Well, that was close enough to the truth.

 

“Ah,” James said in a knowing tone, “The girl? Or something else?”

 

“Well, everything,” Fox began, “I mean, yeah I can't get her off my mind now, but... I kept getting myself lost in the past, and only bad parts of the past, too. I started to remember mom and you when I thought you were gone, and Andross...”

 

“Son...” James cut him off as he searched for the right words to say. He laid a paw on his kin's shoulder and looked him square in the eyes through his obsidian shades. “I know it's hard, living without a mother. Trust me, it's hard living without a wife. But what's done is done, and if you live in the past, you're simply gonna ruin a good future.” Fox nodded slowly, already knowing this, but James continued, just to stick it to him. “I miss your mom every single day of my life. I loved her, and you loved her, and she deserved so much better than what she got... But she wouldn't want to see us kicking ourselves for her not being here. You've got a great life and an even brighter future ahead of you, Fox. This girl... Krystal's her name, right? If she's the one, like I think you think she is, then once this entire dilemma is over, you can get rid of this empty feeling and take a chance on just letting loose and living a little. Drop your job for a little bit. Take some time off. Maybe get married, have some kids-”

 

“Whoa,” Fox butted in, not wanting him to go to far, “I'm not trying to think of kids yet, Dad.”

 

“Well, you should be. You're going on thirty, Fox. Now I'm not judging you, but you can't get too much older before you decide to have a family. Just stop over thinking things. This crap about `not letting your love life interfere with work'? Forget it. It takes a lot of guts to go and fight on the battlefield, but to love somebody wholeheartedly... now that's the real adventure. When you settle down and let go of these inhibitions you force on yourself, you'll know what I'm talking about. And when you finally have a kid of your own...” James reached his paw from his son's shoulder to his cheek, patting it softly as he finished, “...you'll have everything you'll ever need.”

 

Fox gave a bashful grin at his father's last words, blushing heavily beneath his fur. As if on cue, the comm. link on his wrist began to beep, and he quickly pressed the button to allow the transmission. “What's up, Rob?”

 

“We are now within launching distance of Sauria airspace,” was the monotone response.

 

“Good. Thanks. Open the hangar on my signal.” He then closed the link and looked back up at his father, whose body- and grin- hadn't budged an inch. Fox returned the smirk and bid him farewell. “Well, now's my time to shove off. Don't break anything, will ya?”

 

“I'll try not to,” James answered with a laugh. “I think I'll catch up with Peppy if I can get a hold of him. I'm sure he'll probably have a heart attack when he sees me though.”

 

“Heh, yeah... He should use the same line as General Pepper, since he's taken his office. You can reach him there.”

 

“General Hare... It just doesn't sound right to me,” James said with a shrug and another small chuckle. “Alright, son, good luck. If you need any help, get in touch with me and I'll be down there as soon as I can. And you better bring that girl back here; I wanna meet her.”

 

Fox gave another nod and answered, “Don't worry, I will.” With that, he shut the bottom of his Arwing and put his equipment to the side while his father climbed back up to the hangar's entry. As he opened the door, he called back to his son for one final word before the door closed behind him.

 

“Remember, son... Never give up. Trust your instincts.”

 

Fox took the common phrase with a boyish grin as he climbed into the cockpit of his Arwing, throwing his sack of supplies behind his seat where it fit all too snugly. It was the same bag he had taken to Sauria just two years before; he figured why not take it again? He'd packed a canteen of purified water and rations in case he needed them. He wasn't sure how long it would take for him to find Krystal, or if he even would...

 

No! He immediately shook the thought from his head as he looked through his supply bag one final time to assure himself he hadn't forgotten anything. “Canteen, check. Food, check. Grenades, one... two... three, check. Spare radio communicator... Got it. Steel chord rope, and... distress beacon, got it all. Good.” He pushed his bag back behind his seat and hopped in with the grace of a swan, checking over his instruments and commencing to shut the cockpit. As the layer of glass dropped over top of him, ending in a quiet hiss to signal the air lock, Fox reopened the link to the bridge with a push of a button on his wrist communicator. “Alright, Rob, I'm ready when you are.”

“Affirmative,” was the abrupt reply from the robot. As it made the preparations for the launch, Fox checked over his controls and adjusted his G-Diffuser system for atmosphere breach. He checked over his shield gage at least five times to make sure his repairs had worked, and the confident `89%' displayed assured him of a safe trip. He gripped the levers at either side of him with white knuckles beneath his gloves and fur. Why he was so nervous about this mission, he had no idea. It was simple: go down to Sauria, where he'd explored the entire planet before, find Krystal, and see how things go from there. His dad was right; there was no way she could just blow him off if he really admitted he was truly sorry, which he was intent on doing. But these butterflies in his stomach... They just wouldn't seem to go away no matter how hard he tried to shoo them away. What if she didn't want to come back? What if she was lost? What if she was hurt? What if she was...?

 

Fox once again cleared his mind with a violent shake of his head and a long sigh, relaxing his grip on his Arwing's controls and calling for Rob again. “What are Krystal's coordinates? Are you able to track her Arwing on the surface?”

 

There was a hush on the other end for a moment as Rob made the configurations to track the ship. “Krystal's Arwing is located at 35° 40' N, 139° 45' E.”

 

“Wait, 35° N, 139° E...” he mused aloud, “That's just about where I landed... Alright, she's in Thorntail Hollow. This should be a piece of cake- to find her anyway...” Before he allowed himself to think negatively about the situation again, he focused his attention on the docking bay door that was now sliding open and revealing the beautiful sight that was Sauria. It was like a giant white, blue, and green marble sitting atop a diamond-coated black velvet blanket. Fox took in the sight once again with an inward smile, but his determined aura never once left his expression.

 

Just before the hatch finished opening, Fox remembered the item in his breast pocket on the inside of his white shielding vest. He reached into it hurriedly and pulled it out gingerly, not wanting to crumple it at all. It was the photo of him and Krystal on Aquas that he had found in her room, out of its frame. He forced it in between two panels on his dashboard so it stood upright and faced him, almost as a reminder of what he was fighting for. He remembered his father had always kept a picture of Mom on his dashboard, and he figured he might as well follow the trend. It felt right, too, having a picture of them together there. That's right, he reminded himself, that's what I'm going to Sauria for- and I'm not leaving without it. A fire reignited in his eyes, he grasped the controls in what could have been a chokehold and slammed them forward, starting both pairs of engines on either side at full power, shooting him out of Great Fox and towards Sauria at top speed. The G-Forces pushed him back a bit, but he was quite used to the force by now and held his controls steady. He curved around to point the nose of his ship towards the location blinking on his display map, edging to the left a bit to account for turbulence once entering the atmosphere. He checked his shield gage and G-Diffuser settings one last time, then readied for landing.

 

It was as easy as usual when cutting through the thermosphere. It wasn't until he began to reach below 100km above the planet's surface that he felt the ship begin to rock. A red aura began to overtake the nose of his ship as the shields were heating up, and Fox cautiously adjusted the energy flow to contribute some of the blasters' power to the less-than-perfect shielding. The percentage began to rise, comforting Fox a little as his ship continued falling at gravity's beckoning.

 

Seventy kilometers... sixty... At fifty kilometers, Fox noticed something down below that wasn't at all to his liking- storm clouds. As he came closer to the area, he could make out that the clouds were a darker shade than normal, signifying a tempest for sure. Not only was it a storm, it was a big storm, as Fox couldn't see any brighter shading of clouds anywhere below him. He could try and pull up now by redirecting his G-Diffuser output and avoid the storm completely until it cleared up, but as he reached for the dash to do so, something subconsciously stopped him. It was as if he felt a presence, a sudden jolt inside of him as if someone was calling for help. Krystal?

 

The russet fox looked back towards the ground below with searching eyes, trying to find some sort of hole in the wall of dark clouds that he was heading closer to by the second. He was now past thirty kilometers above the surface, almost too close to try and pull back up from his freefall. His mind began debating against his conscience on what to do, neither side of him coming close to winning the battle. He looked back down to the planet, then to the kilometer readout. Finally, he had no choice; he had to try and pull it off. He'd landed amidst a storm before, even though it was rough. He could do it again. Piece of cake. His brow narrowing in fortitude, Fox reeled back on the controls, slowing his pace by about half with his G-Diffusers to make up for the lost reaction time caused by the clouds that obstructed his vision. He then pulled the nose of his ship upward by a few degrees; although he would miss his intended landing spot by a couple kilometers, it would make for an easier landing and he would still be within the boundaries of Thorntail Hollow. Besides, there was no telling where Krystal was at this point. She could be on the other side of the planet for all he knew.

 

But that something still continued to nag at him, that gnawing feeling in the back of his mind that felt like Krystal crying out in pain... Was it his mind playing tricks on him? Or was it Krystal somehow sending him a sort of telepathic message? Was she in trouble? Fox was fighting his own thoughts to try and remain focused on his own life as he had to land in the middle of a pretty powerful storm just kilometers below. He refocused himself, forcing worries about Krystal to stay behind for both her sake and his, then gripped the controls and reeled them back, coming as close to a complete stop as possible against his own momentum and gravity. The gray and black shield of clouds then began to consume his ship as he dropped blindly towards the surface below.

 

Flying went steady so far, and despite the constant turbulence, his map showed that he was still on course to land in Thorntail Hollow at the northwestern side, towards Lightfoot Village. Fox mentally crossed his furry fingers as he continued to maintain control over his ship, coming within fifteen kilometers of solid ground.

 

At last, he cleared the clouds, but he knew he wasn't out of the doghouse yet. Heavy waves of rain surrounding him continued to obstruct his vision, though he could still make out the Hollow below him. There were strikes of lightning everywhere too, clashing a bit more fluently than in normal storms. Fox pulled his nose further up so that he was almost parallel to the ground and increased his speed, hoping not to get caught by one of the bolts of lightning. The chance of actually getting hit by one of the strikes was slim to none, but Fox couldn't take any chances.

 

Before Fox could even think of cursing his luck, there was a blinding flash outside his cockpit, and an electrical surge traversed through the inside of his ship. Fox barely had time to shield himself with his arms as bursts of fire and electricity erupted on all sides of him. The bolt of lightning had also crippled his left wing significantly, and with Fox unable to even touch his flaming controls, the electrified Arwing spun out of control to its left, slamming straight into the large pack of trees on the outskirts of the Hollow. To any onlookers below, it looked like a falling star, a meteor, or even a fallen angel smitten down from heaven. The previously sleek and proficient Arwing now illuminated the darkened morning sky with brilliant flashes of red, orange, and blue as it spun violently, at last crashing into the woods below with no sound of an explosion. The mass of congregated trees clipped the ship's other wing and bent it out of shape considerably, leaving Fox trapped inside as it finally came to a halt about one hundred meters away from a cliff hovering over an active, white river and almost ten kilometers short of Lightfoot Village on the opposite side. Fox, still held within, didn't budge from his position; an eye didn't wince, an ear didn't twitch, not even a grunt passed through his open jaw. Blood soaked his fur along his brow and on his left shoulder; possibly other places too. As the rain continued to splatter against his dead Arwing, putting out the still flickering fires surrounding his cockpit, the flow of electricity died and vanished, and a complete shutoff of the ship's power automatically commenced to avoid any further damage to the pilot. The pilot wasn't moving, however, while his own crimson blood ran down his fur like the water droplets ran down his cracked cockpit window. Fox McCloud was down.

 

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