Chapter 33: Terminal

[Warning, invasive software incursion detected attempting access to neural network!]

[Deploying anti-intrusion countermeasures…]

[…………….]

“There he is! Over here, we found him!”

[100% failure. Countermeasures ineffective; firewall breach imminent.]

[Activating secondary defensive protocol; locking down neural lace…]

[…………….]

“Oh gods the blood, it’s everywhere.”

“Six, can you hear me? It’s Miyu.”

“Don’t worry I’m right here. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“Medic! Where the fuck is the medic?”

[68% efficiency; protocol partially effective.]

[Minimal exposure incurred upon operator.]

[Alert! Aggressive malware has breached neural interface.]

[Hostile program attempting to access cognitive and motor function.]

[Initiating countermeasures…]

[…………….]

“Someone get my trauma kit! He’s going into hypovolemic shock!”

“Holy shit, how’s this guy still alive?”

“Jeez, look at all that blood.”

“Fuck, he actually killed that thing!”

“Is he going to be okay? Stay with me Six!”

“I need plasma! We’re losing him! Someone get that air tube down his throat already!”

“Please don’t go. I need you!”

“Multiple compound fractures, both ribs and sternum. Pass me the hemostatic bandages, he’s hemorrhaging! What’s his blood type?”

[100% effective, hostile software eliminated.]

[Alert! Unidentified nanites have infected operator through cardiovascular network, calculating potential health detriment, adding preexisting injuries to calculation.]

[…………….]

“Staff Sergeant! He’s flatlining!”

“Use the shock pads!”

“Using shock pads!”

“Don’t you dare die on me!”

[Projected operator condition; catastrophic.]

[Unidentified electric current detected; nanite density reduced.]

[Appraisal, unidentified nanites administering nominal utility with foreign materials. Possible long term ramifications currently unknown, present effect… productive.

“Alright… he’s stable enough to move, but his condition is still critical. And I can’t treat most of what he has with this kit. I’ve done all I can to help him, but he’s been heavily mutilated.  In my honest, professional opinion, I don’t think he’ll survive this.”

“Don’t you dare fucking say that!”

“Specialist Lynx, control yourself!”

“Ora, get Danna back on her feet. As for you specialist, please don’t attack my medic.”

“I’m sorry. But don’t you fucking count him out. Not after he saved all our lives.”

“We are all well aware of that Miyu, don’t think we aren’t. Nevertheless we are pressed for time. We don’t know if there are still any aparoids in the area that weren’t affected by whatever it was that just happened. And if we come across another one of those… things, while the Lieutenant is incapacitated, none of us will be making it back to inform the Lieutenant Colonel of our success. Now then, Levi, Sheridan, help Donna carry the LT to the APC. The sooner we get out of here the better.”

[Running MJOLNIR operational status update.]

[Shielding System… offline]

[HUD Software… offline]

[Mechanical Operations… disabled]

[Neural Interface Connection… suspended]

[Titanium Outer Shell… 63% damaged, 85 breach points, (cataloguing individual locations in detailed logs for future repair)]

[Titanium Nanocomposite Bodysuit 96% damaged, 187 breach points. Estimated time for autonomous repair… unknown]

[Hydrostatic Gel Layer… 47% depleted]

[Polymerized Lithium Nibocene Layer 57% damaged]

[Pressure seal… 272 breach points, (cataloguing individual locations in detailed logs for future repair)]

[Fusion reactor… 97% output, no damage]

[Force-Multiplying Circuits… damage unknown]

[Reactive Circuits… damage unknown]

[Power Supply Control Unit… functional]

[MJOLNIR operational status… 34%]

“Don’t worry Six, I’m here.”

“I won’t let you go.”

*****

Fox had ROB input the coordinates for Katina the moment General Pepper gave him the mission parameters. Contact was, briefly, reestablished with the garrison on Katina. And it was just as he and the General had feared. No. It was worse. The Aparoids had arrived, destroyed the local fleet, and initiated planetfall. The projected damage to civilian population centers was presumed to be incalculable, and the planetary defense force was almost entirely annihilated.

Right now, The Great Fox was accompanying a massive reclamation fleet; spearheaded by the General himself, over four dozen vessels occupied by veterans, new recruits, and activated reservists. A quarter of these ships were brand new, and a further half was only recently reactivated from mothballed navy bases that were, as they departed Corneria, being repopulated and rearmed across the system.

The news had broken out that afternoon after legislation passed.

Four short months of peace and the United Lylatian Republics was once again at war.

Krystal hadn’t talked to him since she heard the news, and he honestly did not blame her harboring resentment. He had all but anticipated it. While she was not the only one on the team that had been appalled to learn he had been keeping a secret from them. She had been the one to take it the hardest.

Six and Miyu were out there.

Fox didn’t even know if the spartan and Lynx were still alive. But he had faith. He had to believe that they were. Six was the strongest person Fox had ever met, both in mindset and physical capability. And Miyu was ex-special forces, a commando. Together they made for a fearsome pair.

“Your coffee, Sir.”

Fox turned to acknowledge the outside voice that had intruded upon his musing, the vulpine momentarily startled at the unfamiliar tone, until he remembered the General’s orders the day before. As of thirty-six hours ago standard time, The Great Fox had been provisionally commissioned as a CDF fleet carrier, and since they had seen a substantial influx of personnel, weapons, and equipment. Having spoken with the team on the matter before accepting Pepper’s request, he knew they still held reservations at becoming a fixture of the military, if only temporarily. Whatever their collective opinions may have been, the arrival of considerable equipment and resources was welcomed.

“Thank you, Petty Officer Haden.” 

“Of course, Sir.” The male lion nodded respectfully and made to politely leave the tod’s presence to return to his bridgestation, where he joined the throng of naval personnel moving about the floor.

Fox watched the officer leave with an intangible emotion.

It was… strange, having a fully manned and operated ship, even stranger at being in charge of a new host of people and the responsibilities that were carried with them. And he was still getting used to the alterations. Most of them were actually very well received for the most part. Slippy, promoted to the new supervisory role of chief engineer, had a whole team of technicians and researchers to help him with his projects and general maintenance for The Great Fox.

The ship’s hanger was at that moment packed full of new CDF Corsairs fresh off the assembly line, with pilots just as wet behind the ears. Falco effortlessly slipped into his new role as flight leader for the first wing with predictable enthusiasm, the boost to his ego was quite considerable as well. That was certainly an unexpected addition Fox could have done without.

In lighter news, Peppy now supervised the overhauled CIC here on the bridge. Their electronic warfare suite had been a little outdated admittedly, but that wasn’t a problem anymore. Naval technicians had installed the latest software updates to both their electrical systems and ROB, another advantage he was grateful for.  

He even had an SSO now, a rather formal, by-the-books crocodilian. She took her role as the ship’s security officer very seriously, and bearing in mind the destination they had plotted into navigation, and the threat that waited for them outside FTL, he considered that a much needed blessing as much as he did the presence of the naval armsmen.

Over all most everyone was content enough with their new arrangements. Even Silver was finding it interesting, the wolf pup following around the soldiers with wide eyes and a low hanging jaw, like a cub chasing after the scent of sweets. Fox sensed that a military career might be in the child’s future. Keeping in mind the environment and influences he would now be growing up in, it would not be all that surprising to assume such a thing.

Yet it was not wise to have him wander around what was now a fully-fledged military ship unsupervised. To address that concern he had set Katt and Fay to task in keeping him out of trouble, seeing as they didn’t have any new obligations and Krystal was for the moment… preoccupied. Hearing that he was twiddling around the arsenal of disrupter torpedoes, was something Fox could do without.

He sighed and readjusted his posture as he reclined in his bridge chair, heart heavy with the weight of his worries.

Since learning the truth of what Six and Miyu had been sent in to deal with, Krystal had been somewhat distant as of late. Miyu was perhaps her closest friend on the ship and Six… well that was a relationship that did not need to be described to be understood. Her responsibilities remained largely unchanged, though it was now more noticeably defined. The vixen was acting second for the unit Fox had created with the intention of having Noble Six administer.

With the certainty of destabilization within the Lylat system at the appearance of the aparoids, Fox had been forced to shift his plans to make Six his second in command, pushing his decision far ahead of schedule. Once they retrieved the spartan and Miyu from Katina, the human supersoldier would find himself in charge of a squad of soldiers and a small wing of fighters.

Fox hated having to impose further duties atop those the human warrior already had to supervise, but the vulpine couldn’t find anyone else he trusted with the responsibility. The Aparoids wouldn’t give them any leeway in this coming war. They had already incapacitated an entire world, and there was no telling where and when they would strike next, anywhere was a potential target. The more he considered this, the more he realized just how much he really needed Six here. Damnit he needed all of his friends.

The vulpine looked to his comms bracer.

Just seventeen hours left. Hold on guys. We’re coming.

*****

“Come on Silver, get away from there. Stop pestering the poor soldiers while they relax.”

The young lupine grumbled in protest, but he moved when the comparatively tall and relatively imposing figure of the pink feline approached his seat at the table where he had been watching a handful of off-duty armsmen play cards. Honestly, he was surprised that Katt let him linger in the main crew quarters for so long in the first place. Since Captain Mccloud had assigned her to act as his impromptu shepherd, she hardly let him go anywhere fun. If not for the fact that any misbehavior would upset Miss Kry… his mother, he would have tried to lose his chaperoning tail.

While he may have not been in on all the details of where they were going or the reason for their departure from Corneria, Silver knew enough that something his mom heard had made her sad. And the last thing she needed right now was to hear that he had gotten himself into trouble. The young lupine was indescribably grateful that she took the chance on raising him as her son, that she stole him away from that horrible alley he had come to call home out of necessity. Since the moment she told him that she wanted to be his mother, Silver vowed he would do anything and everything in his power to pay her back for bothering to care.

And thus, though he so dreadfully wanted to satisfy his curiosity, the wolf pup offered no resistance as he moved to join his guardian.

“Ah don’t worry about it none, Miss Monroe.” One of the soldiers chuckled as he cast a smile the cat’s way. “We ain’t bothered by the little squirt. He’s kinda like the ship’s mascot if ya think about it.” At his words the others at his table agreed with their own varied laughter and platitudes.

“It’s not you guys I’m worried about.” The pink feline rejoined with a mollifying snicker. “This little fuzzball is trouble with a capital T. Besides, his ma wants to see him.” With that she affixed her gaze on the pup that joined her with newborn enthusiasm.

“Really, mom wants me?” He asked, eyes shining bright with anticipation.

“Yep you heard me right. She’s in the mess hall right now, waiting for your little behind so you can join her for lunch.” Katt replied with a knowing smirk. It was no surprise to her that despite the briskness of his and Krystal’s bond, that Silver had already slipped into the part of adoring son so effortlessly. The vixen’s earnest and compassionate nature could win over even the roughest of personalities in record time. If anyone needed a frame of reference, all they had to do was look at Six.

Katt had seen what he was capable of on Fichina.

Some way, somehow, that female fox had brought that walking natural disaster to heel like a well-trained hound, or at least that’s the way it seemed outside looking in. The pink feline was sure there was a lot more to their relationship than outwards appearances forespoke. She didn’t know Six on a personal level yet, but she did know that he was certainly no socialite. He was a viciously straightforward individual, with a dangerously molten temperament.

He was also, quite frankly, handsome for an alien.

The pink feline considered it somewhat unfortunate that he was already spoken for and that neither Miyu nor Krystal was open to the idea of including any others into their dynamic. But, as the saying went, there were plenty of fish in the sea. This time, she decided, she would play the long game, cast a reel and wait to see what she picked up.

“Come on squirt, let’s go. I don’t know about you, but I could certainly go for a burger right about now.” Katt declared with a giggle as she watched the pup’s eyes light up at the prospect of food.

“Yes, ma’am!” Silver barked excitedly as he hurried to match the female’s pace. Before he forgot however, he looked back over his shoulders and waved goodbye to the soldiers, who returned his farewell with similar gusto.

The young wolf had quite enjoyed his time with them. However, he could not help but think they were nothing like Mr. Six. They were definitely of a more open disposition than the strange giant, yet he did not feel as at ease with them as he did with the unusual male he had met some weeks ago. He couldn’t place why that was so, it was just an inexplicable feeling he had.

“Don’t fall behind you little rapscallion.”

Silver’s ears burned with embarrassment as he realized that Miss Monroe had outpaced him during his idle pondering. The pup yapped a quick apology as he shuffled quickly to make up the distance between them.

*****

It was strange to see so many unfamiliar faces walking The Great Fox’s once silent corridors. Their small, tightknit community had expanded radically since the navy had transferred personnel to assist in the running of the mercenary dreadnaught. While, on one side, they had lost most of their privacy, there was something to be said of the reassurance that having all of these people provided.  

For one thing, the ship hardly felt empty anymore.

That was a recent development Krystal decided she still wasn’t quite sure how to feel about, as she stepped out of the hall and into the boisterous atmosphere of the ship’s commissary. The place she had thought of as their private dining area now bore more resemblance to the cafeteria of a military base, and the vixen found her new distaste for it to be ironic, considering the mess hall was for the first time, truly functioning as it was intended to.

And while she was surrounded by pleasant faces and friendly individuals, Krystal had never felt more alone with the absence of her ever faithful and devoted shadow. With Six away on a mission, the ship felt, paradoxically, emptier. Steeling herself with a dejected sigh, she took a moment to compose herself before setting off down the center lane bisecting either side of the large messdeck, her pace jerking awkwardly with every other step she took.

The injury she had sustained on Fichina had healed in its entirety, yet she suffered a persistent limp that the new ship’s doctor informed her, much to the vixen’s relief, would assuredly fade in the coming days. Thankfully she hardly had need of her legs to fly her Cloudrunner, and it was no great inconvenience for her that she was, until further approval, removed from the ground operations roster.

After all, there was certainly no shortage of volunteers anymore.

The tables were packed tighter than the feeding troughs on a farm, and she watched with a little amusement as other diners attempted to find seating amidst the crowd. While there was no innate sense of time onboard a starship, the military and commercial corporations designed an artificial substitute for use during space travel. Without the sun and moon to use for a frame of reference, the concepts of morning, afternoon and evening only existed because of established maritime law, space maritime law that is.

And it was that law that decided this particular moment was crowned as the monarch of lunchtime. 

It was still a unique experience for Krystal that she now had to wait in line to get her meal, and that there was actually someone here to prepare them. It would have almost been more a novelty than a source of inconvenience, if not for the grumbling of her empty stomach.

The vixen felt a blush surface as her belly growled particularly loudly during a brief pang of silence that overtook the room. The soldier in front of her glanced over his shoulder, smiled, and stepped aside, indicating that they switch places. And it was with a guilty smile that she accepted his offer. If not for how hungry she was, she would have declined for the sake of courtesy. Nevertheless the experience was not at all unfamiliar.

With the arrival of all these new people, she had been introduced to an unusual increase in deference. That would not have been all that unexpected seeing as she was part of a mercenary group that was well-known and respected. Yet she noticed she received noticeably more admiration than her other peers. Suspicion told her it was because they wanted to…become familiar with her, but she had garnered the same reaction from both genders. And Krystal was confident there were not that many women in the navy that played for the same team.

No. She found her answer just this morning, when she overheard a team of armsmen on patrol. Apparently Noble Six was a topic of intense discussion within the ranks of the CDF. It was strange for one person to be talked about so heatedly, but given who exactly it was. Krystal was not actually all that surprised. And with the sheer plentitude of their gossip they were bound to produce rumors that were fairly close to the truth.

It seems, to both her amusement and consternation, that her love life was now the repartee of the cornerian military. Somehow someone in the defense force had learned just what affiliation she shared with Six. Insert whatever outlandish, yet entirely nonfictional stories that existed about the spartan, amalgamate those with recordings that existed to visualize his voluminous heroics that she had played part to, and what she earned was a positon of prestige from many within the army.

This was unexpected, yet not entirely unwelcomed. She did enjoy being treated nicely, and the perk of not waiting in line for food was small, but enjoyable.

Still, all of the accolades and respect meant nothing to the vixen if she didn’t have Six here with her to share it. He was the one who truly deserved the praise she was reaping. It was his efforts and his sacrifices that allowed Lylat to put an early end to their war, and through that time she shared with him that she realized she had fallen in love with an alien.

But it was fateful tragedy that sought to undo all his work.

The Aparoids, whatever these vile abominations were. They desired to ruin everything Six had strived to save and all that she loved. For that she would do all that lay within her power to stop them. She had resolve, but lacked the strength.

Six had been… was, her strength.

Without him she felt weak, helpless to enact the change she desired.

Krystal needed Six not just for the haven of assurance he provided, but because she loved him and could not bear the agony of their separation, no matter how necessary he had deemed it. Ever since he left her alone she felt as if there was a part of her soul that had been taken away from her. She longed for the peculiar intricacy of their many conversations, the echo of his heart gently beating beside her at night, what was the only true brief reprieve from his troubled memories she felt she could truly offer him. She yearned to once more fall under the unique hue of his eyes, to feel that breathless flutter of emotion whenever she matched his swirling irises. As a fox her sense of smell was just as influential as her sight, and she wished to see him just as much as she wished to inhale the scent of his that had become so wonderful and familiar.

“Please Six… be okay.” The vixen whispered softly to herself as she stirred her soup, the table she occupied conspicuously absent of any other crewmembers. Her only reassurance was in the form of Miyu. She asked the lynx to go with Six so that he wouldn’t be entirely alone out there, that he would have someone familiar to keep him company and watch his back. And perhaps most importantly, keep him falling into his dreadful suicidal tendencies, to remind him that there were people out there that cared if he lived or died. Of course the feline didn’t need any convincing on her part to accompany him. Krystal just hoped that they were keeping each other safe. She didn’t know what she would do if she lost either of them.

Miyu was one of those she considered to fall within the seemingly rare category of having a virtuous character. There was no one else other than Six that she cared for and trusted more than the Lynx. Krystal was content in the knowledge that the feline would do anything to help Six while he was abroad risking his life for a race he had no actual or lingering obligation to defend other than that which he perceived to possess. And if there was anyone in the universe she’d want to have beside him when she couldn’t be, it was Miyu.

That cat was someone very near and dear to her heart, the first real friend she made in Starfox, and the closest since. Before they met Six, and from such meeting developed transitory hostilities, the two of them had been the other’s safe harbor from the tyranny of worldly concerns. When either of them had worries, which more often than not involved Falco’s idiocy, or the many adversities synonymous with their mercenary lifestyle, they went to each other to unwind. When on mission, they always flew together, and performed all the better for it. In the time before Six joined their crew, whenever they were granted leave by Fox, they spent that together, watching movies, talking about males, planning pranks on Falco, whatever it was that passed the time.

At one point Krystal had even dared to believe there might have been something more between them. But then Six came along, and Krystal knew in her heart that they were destined to be together.

Nevertheless, on occasion when her thoughts began to stray, she wondered. What would have happened if Six hadn’t come along? It was a strange thought. She had never before, nor since, considered another female in that light. Swaying in such a way was not unusual, given the once predominantly female population that had once existed, and she knew that there were still some places in Lylat that adhered to that particular way of life, most of which could be found on the outlier worlds in the system.

Would they have been happy together?

The vixen’s ears twitched at a tumult of noise coming from the front of the commissary, banishing her thoughts on what might have been. Krystal would have ignored the disruption, but her keen hearing sifted through the commotion, and the female fox smiled inadvertently as she listened to the voice of someone that had become very special to her.

“Mom!” Silver yapped like the excitable pup he had grown to become as he dashed across the mess hall towards her table, his stout legs pounding across the deck in his haste to greet her. The vixen’s smile deepened as she studied her son’s blissful expression and fresh apparel, her appearance emulated by fellow crewmembers as they watched the lively pup in action. Swathed in new, clean clothes, and properly washed and taken care of, the young lupine no longer matched the image of a street urchin down on his luck, not at all… not with a grin like that.

Her joy at the sight of Silver lightened the ever-present weight slung over her shoulders, and she happily pondered at how amazing it was that a child could so easily make her feel that way. He may have not been of her flesh and blood, but that hardly mattered. She still didn’t know if she and Six would ever have a child of their own, the spartan seemed disinclined and that was without factoring the unforeseen complications of the genetics involved. And while that would have been a wonderful miracle, she was quite content with the gift she had already been given.

Though her homeworld was gone the spirits of her ancestors still watched over her.

“Hello sweetie, how was your day?” The vixen asked as the young wolf clambered onto the bench beside her, his body trembling with barely restrained childlike fervor.

“It was awesome!” He barked happily, his tail thumping wildly behind him as he looked to Krystal with a wide, innocent smile.

“I think the word he actually intended to use was chaotic, or was it frenzied maybe?” Katt countered with a chuckle as she slid into the bench opposite theirs, the feline’s countenance seeming to lack Silver’s optimism.

“Is that so?” The female fox asked with a shrewd smirk as she looked to the now downwards tilted muzzle of her child. She could, quite literally, feel the guilt emanating off of him.  

“I only wandered around… a little bit.”

“A lotta bit you mean.” Katt interjected blithely, shoving a furred thumb in the embarrassed pup’s direction. “I had a heck of a time chasing this little whirlwind of curiosity around the ship. Go on… tell your mother where you’ve been today.” The pink feline coaxed him with a shooing gesture of her paw. 

Krystal turned to her son as he finally met her gaze, wringing his paws as he went on to catalogue his exploits.

“Well first I went on to the bridge, but the mean crocodile lady told me to leave. She said I was obsticating the bridge’s environment.

“I think the word you’re looking for is obfuscating.” Krystal corrected with a playful giggle.

“Right, that’s what she said, obsticating.” He nodded smartly. “After that I went to the engineering bay to watch the technicians work for a little while. But that was boring so I took the lift to the hanger to watch Mr. Lombardi drill with his pilots. That was pretty funny.”

“I can only imagine.” Katt muttered with a droll roll of her eyes. 

Krystal pointedly nudged the feline under the table with her sandal as she prompted Silver to resume speaking.

“What’d you do after that honey?”

“Well after a while Mr. Lombardi sounded kinda… annoying?” The pup proposed uncertainly.

An abrupt ~Snerk~ emerged from Katt as she choked back a laugh and struggled to keep her expression composed, which was mostly unheard  and unseen by the lupine as he continued on obliviously.

“I left a little afterwards and ran into a group of armsmen who were off-duty. I followed them back to the crew deck and watched them play cards for a little while. And that’s when Miss Monroe took me away and brought me here.” He concluded with a succinct nod of his head.

“You’ve been a busy pup haven’t you?” Krystal playfully admonished as she bopped him gently on the tip of his snout.

“Yep, and now I’m hungry.” He answered with the perk of an ear and the steadfast conviction that only could only be mustered by a child who knew exactly what it was that he wanted. And if there was anything he had learned to like since he became her son, it was food.

“Alright then,” she rose from her seat with a slight wince. “Let’s see what the new mess officer has in store for you.”

“Okay!”

With a shout of glee, the young lupine attempted to jump out of his seat, only to tumble gracelessly as his knee banged loudly against the bottom of the table. Nearly faceplanting into the deck as he lost his balance, he only just managed to recover with the tattered remnants of his pride. Silver winced as his mother burst into a fit of helpless giggles, the sound of her laughter echoed by the feline that had a first row ticket to the entire show, her pink paw slapping against the table to the beat of her jovial cackling.

“It really is fortunate that Fox put a tail on you.” The cerulean vixen declared after her mirth subsided. “The spirits only know what trouble you would get into otherwise.”

Too embarrassed to respond, the pup hid his eyes as he now reluctantly trudged behind his mother.

“Don’t wait up on me guys, I’ll hold the fort.” Katt called out to the retreating pair, the feline already lost in a game on her wrist communicator.

With a roll of her emerald irises, Krystal looked back and down to her son, reaching out her paw expectantly. She did not have to wait long as the young wolf wrapped his fingers around her offered hand, his disposition lightening back to its usual unguided enthusiasm.

“Any thoughts on what you’d like to eat?” She inquired as she guided them over to the now less crowded mess line.

“Ooh I know, Stew!” He shouted eagerly, though his smile soon faded into a look of deep concentration. “No… wait not that. A burger? Spaghetti? A sandwich…. maybe?”

“How about a nice salad?” Krystal suggested with a doting, but entirely wry smile.

“Yeah, with meat…. A meat salad!” He exclaimed enthusiastically.

“We’ll see about that, dear one.” The cerulean vixen replied with a whimsical shake of her head.

Children truly were strange creatures.

As they went through the line to get Silver his… “meat salad”, she ruminated on that previous thought, or more truthfully, the subject of that reflection and what she would tell Six when she finally had him back. She would freely, if guiltily, admit that she had made her decision about Silver without his consultation.

Krystal still remained in the dark about how he felt about children and the idea about having one. She had hopes he would be unopposed to the idea, or at least take her undeniably hurried decision in stride. While she had never seen or heard anything from him to suggest a loathing of the concept, neither had he professed any interest or aspiration for it. Nevertheless, the want for a child was something she had grown to desire in recent months. It was her hope that he would come to accept this.

No matter his feelings on the subject, she would do her best to find a solution with keeping Silver that worked for the both of them. He had committed so much of his life to her, that she would be remiss to do any less.

She already knew how she wanted to handle the conversation, all that was left was to have the spartan here to take part in it.

Despite what awaited them when they arrived at Katina, and the uncertainty of the future they now faced, Krystal could not and would not refrain from her sentiment of hopeful anticipation. Six had been gone from her side for too long, and she would brave any manner of danger or extraterrestrial threat if it would see them reunited sooner.

“Look Mom, he put meat on it just like I asked.” Silver interjected into her thoughtful reverie as he hoisted his bowl of carnivorous salad up for her inspection.

“That’s wonderful.” She praised him kindly as she returned her focus to the immediate breath and scope of her horizons. “Now then, let’s see about getting back to Katt.” The female fox retrieved a fresh meal tray from the buffet counter with a polite nod to the mess chef.

“I’m sure she’s hungry too.”

The platter vibrated in her grasp and the vixen glanced down, her communicator brightly lit and flashing from an incoming call. Balancing the tray of food with one paw she used the other to accept the incoming transmission.

“Krystal here.”

“Krys, it’s Fox.” The vulpine’s voice echoed from her wrist.

While the resentment she felt for his deceit still ran deep, she could not find it in her to maintain her hostile demeanor. All the same she did not immediately respond, knowing nothing pleasant would emerge from her mouth. Instead she let him continue speaking.

“The General has a plan drawn up for when we arrive. If you’d like to be a part of it, the strategy conference will be in fifteen hours. And Krys…” the vulpine hesitated. “I’m sorry.”

The lights on her communicator died, though her gaze upon it lasted some moments longer before she finally looked away. She knew that he felt remorse for his deception, and in some way deep down, she understood its necessity. But that was not the source for the whole of her temper. Given all the knowledge of what they faced, and the inherent perils imposed upon anyone who stood in its way. With this understanding and all of its implications, Fox had sent Six and Miyu on that mission.

And in this light, for her…

Forgiveness would not come that easily.

*****

“So… Six, is there a real name that comes after that number?”

For a moment, despite the fact he had been addressed by title, the spartan had not realized he had been spoken to. Curious, and confused, he looked up from his rather disinterested examination of his maltreated torso plates to affix his focus on the only other spartan in the room that matched the color pattern of his armor.

“What?” He growled softly, confused and wary at her sudden interest.

Kat briefly looked away from the datapad she had buried in the guts of the Visegrád Relay’s main console. He could not see the hard eyes concealed within her helmet, but he could tell that they were undoubtedly centered on him, as if the discovery of Covenant on Reach was banal enough to warrant such a pointlessly intrusive topic.

He did not enjoy being placed under scrutiny.

“I asked if you had a name. Even slicing through all that black ink in your dossier I couldn’t find anything pertaining to your name. You got something against names?” She inquired with a minute tilt of her helm.

“What business is it of yours?” He demanded in a low snarl. Even had he a name to offer, it would propose no tactical benefit to squad operations. As such, on a fundamental level, her inquiry was less than useless. 

Despite the caustic nature of his retort, the other spartan did not seem to take offense, instead sighing in weary resignation. “Is it your aim to make an enemy of the world? If that is your intent, you’ve been doing a decent job of it.”

The human supersoldier did not allow himself to be bated with guilt. They were soldiers, not family. He did not want to be here as much as they did not want him. He had hoped for a swift resolution to this unwelcomed association, but with the arrival of the Covenant on humanity’s last bastion, he had a sinking feeling this cooperation had just become a permanent fixation.  

Attempting to escape from this conversation, he visibly shifted his helmet away from the console and the spartan toiling underneath it, instead choosing to once more examine their surroundings for threats. Though he and 052 had chased off the pack of Zealots that did not mean the installation was safe.

The Covenant was a tenacious foe to eliminate, there would be more, whether from the interior or in a wave of reinforcements, that did not matter. The sooner they accomplished their objective and departed the better. He did not wish to die an ignoble death. And that was exactly what awaited him here if he stayed.

He could feel the itch of his finger as it caressed the trigger guard for his MA37. He did not often make unnecessary movements, but the longer he considered the future that awaited him, the more his expectation manifested itself in subtle ways.  His muscles twisted and writhed with tedium and anticipation both, locked underneath a cage comprised of thick layers of titanium and nanocomposite power armor. Reach was under attack and soon to be sieged. This was what he had been waiting for all his life, a time and place where he could truly trade his life for the worth he believed it possessed.

He could sense it.

Like the spartans of old.

This was to be his Thermopylae.

Five other souls lingered in the room he occupied, a grim reminder that this was an end he would not be facing alone. Most hoped to believe that humanity could attain their hold on this world, but Six had long ago cast away any foolish beliefs in pointless falsehoods. His interim with the Office of Naval Intelligence had been quick to dissuade him from any beliefs other than statistical fact and cold calculated ratios.

Given the percentage of efficacious Covenant invasions arrayed against those successfully repulsed, factor the sheer disparity of numbers and technological power they would soon be pitted against, and the conclusion was already forgone.

Reach was lost, and anyone that stayed to defend it would die alongside their world.

This information, of course, did nothing to sway his convictions. He could almost admit to looking forward to the end. Perhaps then he might find his peace, maybe then the memories would fade away.

He deserved the fate that awaited him, at the least he could be content in the knowledge that it would be a death ultimately with purpose. In his final moments he could be redeemed for the sins of his past.

He had committed evil for the good of all mankind, but he had a feeling that any god above would not consider his works in the same perspective.  The spartan reckoned the fate that awaited him would be cold and dark, and that he would be okay with that.

But there were those present that probably did not share his sentiments.

“That number is my name.” The words arrived unbidden and unwarranted, his lips made an unwitting messenger for their delivery, what was unfortunately quite audible from his open transceiver, and the armored figure below him looked up from her work in mild surprise.

“There was a point where I had a real name… something more than a designation.” This time his words were voluntary and expedient, if only to curtail any chance of her responding to any alleged prompt. If his body seemed to wish to speak, at the least it would not be interrupted. “But that was a long time ago. Doesn’t matter anymore, not to me, and not to you.”

Six pulled away from his reclined posture against the rigid console. If she had new questions, he would not answer them, and so he quickly moved to put distance between them. Radio contact could have been established quite simply, but his physical detachment was signal enough that he had finished with her, and that any other questions would not be returned with any more openness.

Of all the limited things he could be grateful for - the expediency with which B320 rigged her hot patch for the communications relay – was one of them. Better yet, after they hit the air they received word that Sword Base was under siege. It would seem that upon discovery, the Covenant had cast away all pretenses for subtly.

Now it would appear the invasion had begun in earnest.

It was only a few hours in the air to reach Sword base from Visegrád, hours that Noble Six spent in solemn silence as he contemplated, once more, the gravity of recent events. This day marked the darkest in all of humanity’s sordid and violent history. Once Reach fell, there would be nothing left standing between the Covenant and the cradle of humanity. With their last celestial citadel in ruins, extinction would follow shortly after. The spartan could grimly envision the fall of mankind, the utter collapse of human civilization.

 The fight would not end the instant Reach succumbed to Covenant forces. There would still be a few years of flagging defiance, but with the loss of their last fortress world the conclusion was all but determined. The inner colonies would fold like dominoes as morale and resources dwindled, supply chains would be shattered and entire worlds of man lost to the inexhaustible tide. The downwards spiral would continue until it reached its fulmination, the battle for Earth.

The epicenter of mankind would fall, and with it any tangible hope of victory. But Six took grim satisfaction in knowing the Covenant would not walk away from that battle with their heads held high and their spirits unbroken. Humanity would bleed them for every centimeter of earthen soil, every meter, kilometer, for every particle of air in the atmosphere.

Man might fall, but they would do all in their power to see the enemy break upon the fortifications of their resilience and indestructible resolve. At the least they would ensure that humanity would never be forgotten, even if they had to sear the extinction of their species into the memory of their executioners.

Six vowed, as the falcon thundered towards what would be the frontline for his last war, that he would be remembered. Recollection of his brief course in Latin prompted a phrase he had grown somewhat attached to as of late, as his future grew more and more certain.

In mortem, Vindiciae…

In his death, he would find vindication for his existence.

“Incoming Covenant AA! Brace! Brace!”

Six only had enough time to recognize the sprawling warzone outside the Falcon’s spinning bloodtray before a plasma mortar slammed into its left rotor. Everything flashed white, and it was only his enhanced reflexes that prevented him from being ejected from the falcon’s open air troop compartment as he dug his gauntlet into the hull. He could feel the effects of a thermal bloom as liquid plasma splashed against his armor’s shields. And other than the nauseating sensation of uncontrolled freefall, the spartan couldn’t coax a coherent thought from his mind as the VTOL transport fell from the sky in a blazing fireball.

The last image he recognized was the smoke grey shape of a cliff face as the falcon slammed into the stone, the screech of tortured and compressed metal ringing through his ears before everything turned black.

*****

Six awoke to nothing but blackness, the complete and utter absence of light. For a transitory moment he felt the onset of panic begin to tinge his concentration, but he crushed the sensation almost offhandedly. Anxiety served no place here, he needed focus and a direction. As seconds passed, his awareness sharpened and the world took on more definition around him.

It was then that Six realized he was not shrouded in darkness, he simply had yet to open his eyes. However, attempting to correct that oversight proved more difficult than he had anticipated. His eyelids were less than responsive, more analogous to two heavy weights that kept his vision smothered in the dark.

Though his mind was still fogged, and dredging up more than one complete thought at a time was, for the moment, near impossible, he was able to garner sufficient enough motivation to move an arm to physically pull his lids back.

Or at the least he tried. Despite any amount of determination, his arms refused to recognize the signals sent from his brain. Yet even from that scarce knowledge he could ascertain that he was lying prone against a solid, smooth surface. Whatever it was, some sort of alloy or steel, it remained cool to the touch, a light frigid sensation against the bare skin of his forearms. Six’s brain, starved for information, grasped on that one recognition like a lifeline, satisfied that he at least was able to get a feel for his immediate surroundings. But he was alarmed to discover that he was no longer encased within his power armor.

Where was his MJOLNIR?

More than that, where was he?

With questions to deliberate on, the neurons in his brain flickered with the barest traces of activity, his consciousness functioning mostly on emergency power, running a battery of rudimentary, organic diagnostics.

As if to herald his slow return to functionality, the spartan was reunited with an old, but no less familiar acquaintance of his. Had he more control over his body, he might have grimaced.

Pain, harsh and scorching like plasma fire, surged rampant through every molecule of his being, accustomed in a form that unpleasantly reminded him of when he first woke up after the augmentations. His chest was an inflamed, excruciating amalgamation of scar tissue and broken misery. He could more feel than hear the deathly rattle of his tattered lungs at each raw intake of breath, like inhaling shattered glass. And his knee throbbed, swollen and fragmented.

This was a memory he could have done without revisiting.

Nevertheless, as he always did when confronted with an affliction possessing an unusually high upwelling of agony, he compressed the blistering, virulent fireball of unmitigated hurt, and stashed it away deep within the layers of his resolve. Though uncommon in the way that it did not entirely dissipate, he found it much easier to ignore at what he could call a tolerable level.

The process was lengthy and disagreeable in its fullness, but he soldiered through the unwelcome sensation of his body saturated in kerosene and rolled into a raging conflagration. Pain, that was something he could ignore, not being able to comprehend where he was, that, was something he could not disregard so easily.

Certainly not as his memories became more coherent; it took a great potency of will, but he was able to discern his last waking moments with some modicum of credibility. Deprived of the methods of which he waged war, he had been forced into drastic measures, the only true chance he had of defeating his Machiavellian adversary.

Even defeated it had not been done with their battle, considering it had lanced a forelimb into his pulmonary artery.

By rights, the spartan mused offhandedly, he should not have woken up. From what he understood of human biology, to which he was - quite frankly - fairly knowledgeable in regards to what was required to render it nonfunctional, that grave a wound should have been fatal considering it was just an addition to the somewhat detailed and lengthy list of preceding injuries imposed upon his admittedly durable form. No matter the marginally accelerated healing factor he possessed as a result of his augmentations, he should not have been able to survive the totality of his substantial foibles.

No. Some outside force had intervened, grateful as he was, he was even more appreciative at the understanding that if he had been rescued, than those he had accompanied were no doubt safe as well. He would have grinned at cheating death once again, had he a higher degree of control over his facial features. Instead he fashioned his satisfaction in the simple realization that someone dear to his heart had been saved.

It would appear that he would continue to uphold the promises he had made.

To Six, there was no greater gift or honor in this universe that could possibly hope to equate to that.

Now if only he could learn just where he was…

Fate, as if to, in a rare show of compassion, see to it that he was two-for-two in his most recent tally of good fortune, he was provided with both an answer and something that would lighten his mood for the foreseeable future.

Lips aside, his ears still functioned as they had been created to, and the spartan’s keen sense of hearing detected the faint, but clearly audible and unforgettable thunder of boots on tile. Instinct tried to see that he dive from his reclined posture and pull the surface out from under him to create a shield to protect himself from the possibility of an encroaching aggressor, but he discovered in that moment that not even instinct could fight through what he could only believe to be heavy sedatives, mounted atop the incapacitating nature of his debilitating wounds.

The only sight one might notice of his internal instinct to fight would have been the brief instant his trigger finger spasmed against the cold steel of the table he presided on like a slab of butchered meat.

Doors blew open as if propelled by the gust of a violent wind, and sound, no longer muted by the muffling partitions, could be heard in a newfound clarity as he singled out the distinctive repetition of a familiar pair of shin high combat boots. Exceptional hearing and eidetic recall both, were two things he still held onto, even in his current condition. He could recognize the distinct gait and poise of any individual, only needing a few minutes to commit them to memory.

He listened to Miyu’s footfalls as the feline slowly approached his position. Counting the seconds it took for her to reach the side of the table he was lying supine across, he was able to deliberate that he was not within the infirmary; the count of her steps too numerous.

The clatter of a chair dragging across stone, the shuffle of fabric, all indicated that the lynx had taken a seat beside him. Sound fell from his ears, all but for the faint pattern of her breathing as she took up silent sentinel beside his makeshift cot. He could neither move nor signpost that he was conscious, leaving the spartan to dwell in the irritation of his immobility.

He tried to quell the bubbling rise of frustration he felt at his paralysis, but he could not contain his anger, not now, not without anyone to help him see the light. If he could move, twitch an eye, a limb, anything but this damnable debilitation he now suffered. Damnit it all! Had he not given enough? Had he not suffered enough? Was God not content with the agony of existence he already bore at every second of every day?

Six was aware of his sins, he would never forget them.

But were his efforts not sufficient in the eyes of providence?

Had he not paid his dues?

He could not help but ask why, even though he knew there would be no solace of an answer.

After years of torment, after being convinced that he was unworthy of his humanity, he had been sent to this new world, his slate clean and his possibilities endless. He could have been anything here, and still he could not shake his sense of duty. A soldier was all he could ever see himself being. Men like him, they did not deserve happiness. He had believed that, until he met Krystal, until he learned just how much his existence meant to her… to Miyu.

And he had thought, so foolishly, that maybe, just maybe he could allow himself to be something else, something more.

He now saw where those thoughts had led him.

He had failed, he was not strong enough to face this new enemy. After all the aspirations of the Covenant to see him defeated, after every corpse strewn battlefield, every time he picked himself back up, knowing he had no reason to continue on with the hopeless desperation of his cause, they had not broken him.

One world, one field of battle…

That was all it had taken for the Aparoids to ruin him.

They had broken his form, if not his will. And he was reminded, in that moment, that there was reason for him to fight here, his friends, his family, his hopes for a future. Now there was a true price for failure.

The spartan felt disgust at his thoughts of self-loathing.

Where was his strength, his honor?

He had not sacrificed his humanity just to cower at the first signs of defeat. He had given it away to protect those that still possessed it. Now with it regained was he going to whimper and bemoan like an infant? Never. He would not abandon those he had found within him the capability to love.

He was no longer alone. There were people who depended on him, Krystal, Miyu… Fox. He had made promises to all of them, to be a better man, a better friend, a better lover. What’s more he had made a promise to himself, to be more than he had been made to be.

Mankind had only wanted a soldier, but all Starfox wanted from him was family.

And that was something he wanted more.

“I’m sorry.”

He paused, thinking for a moment that he had finally spoken. But the words, while hoarse enough to be his own, were too effeminate, and he could recognize the speaker.

“I’m sorry,” the feline’s voice was a rough whisper. “You protected me, saved my life, again. And I could not do the same. I… I’m sorry, Six.”

Her paws, unusually cool and damp to the touch, set hesitantly on his motionless hand, furred fingers clutching tight to him as if he could drift away at any moment. “I don’t know if you can hear me, the doctor said it wasn’t very likely, not with…” Her voice cracked, and it was several moments before she could compose herself. “They said you’re hurt. They said you’re hurt real bad.”

The room was fleetingly occupied with the sound of a heavy intake of breath.

“But you did it, Six. You saved us again.” A soft, halfhearted chuckle graced his ears. “Just like you always do. The battle isn’t over, but we found a way to hurt them. Those things you killed, you… saved me from, they’re the key, our solution. Command had taken to calling those variety stalkers, but their classification is as a control unit. And with that knowledge we have a chance.”

Her paws tightened around him.

“We can beat them Six, but we need you… I need you.”

He would have answered her, in that moment he would have given anything to be able to speak, to hold and comfort her. But he remained impassive, restrained to the stifling solitude of his mind alone. It was a unique form of hell he could have done without.

“With communications back up,” Miyu continued on oblivious to his agonizing. “We were able to contact the CDF. They sent a fleet to help us. And…” She brushed a thumb across the top of his hand. “Fox and everybody else are up there right now, fighting to reach us. I don’t know how long it’ll take, but it looks like they’re winning.”

“Fox, Fox’ll know what to do. He always does. He’ll get you out of here and back home where you belong. And Krystal…” The feline trailed off uncomfortably. “She…. she’ll want to see you too.” Fabric fluttered and he felt something wet drip onto his forehead, furry warmth caressing his cheek. “But you gotta… gotta do something too Six, you have to wake up.”

“Ma’am…” A new voice entered his thoughts, distant over Miyu’s shoulder.

The feline sniffled and inhaled deeply before he heard her shift away from him.

“Yeah…”

“Lieutenant Colonel Grey has requested your presence in the briefing room.”

“Of course, tell him I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

Footsteps receded, leaving them both alone once more.

He felt more than heard her lean towards him, the softest touch of her lips tracing across his own. “I… I love you Six, so you better not well die on me. Oh, and consider our bet settled. You won.”

Then she too walked away, the spartan along again in the silence of the outside, the impression of her lips lingering on his sensation.