FSE

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Disclaimer

Star Fox and associated characters are property of Nintendo. In addition, a major race is heavily based on the work of Arinn Dembo for the title 'Sword of the Stars' - SotS and associated characters are copyright Kerberos Studios.

The following work of fiction incorporates themes of action with a dash of horror, romance and minor fantasy elements. (Considering that the plotline for Star Fox Adventures involved Fox using the magic staff of a telepathic vixen to hunt down ancient spirits and arcane artifacts, I would say we're well within norms for the series). A few original characters turn up as well, most of them minor roles. The main focus of the fiction will, naturally, be on already-established characters. I have done my best to remain faithful to the characters, but in the case of less-established ones I have had to try and extrapolate with my own spin on them.

The timeline for the work begins an undetermined, but fairly short, amount of time after Star Fox Assault - as I have not played Star Fox Command, I am ignoring the canon for that particular game. If it makes more sense, consider this an AU taking place before the Anglar Invasion would have happened.

Lastly, warnings. This work incorporates not-heavily-graphic violence, the occasional rude word, mildly adult and possibly disturbing (that is two separate warnings, for the record) themes; what it will not contain are excessive swearing, intense violence, or graphic descriptions of gore, torture, violence or sexual relations. Physical intimacy may be hinted at some points, but anything that may or may not happen behind closed doors will not be described in any detail. If you are the persuasion who gets upset about the idea of two video game characters having a (hopefully) healthy, happy, productive, equal relationship of the romantic persuasion... Tough luck.

Reader feedback and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. Like it, hate it, have suggestions or questions, toss me a feedback - good stories thrive on that. I hope to make this one.

That said, sit back, get a good position.. and enjoy the ride.

<<<<<>>>>>

_ Star Fox - Odium _

Growing uprisings. An alien empire. Darkness gathering on the edges of Lylat. A vixen searching for her past. In the middle of it all - Star Fox, once more in the wrong place at the wrong time. Odium rises and once again, it falls to Fox and his companions to save the day..

_ Chapter 1 - Omens _

She knew it was just a dream.. knew it like only one who dipped into the thoughts and memories of others with a touch could. In the real world, her body lay safely in a steaming bathtub, soaking up the relaxing heat into her worn muscles.

In her dreamscape, Krystal walked the paths of Cerinia.

She'd been so little when she'd left the world of her birth, barely more than a child - she remembered so very little. Still, that didn't keep her sleeping mind from conjuring up blurred phantoms, half-forgotten fractions and impressions. Leaves rustled underneath her sandals, wind whispering through the branches of the grove her path was winding through. Off in the distance, a warbled bird's cry sounded. To her right, she caught a flicker of motion and paused to watch as a blurred figure stepped into view through the trees, kneeling to pick through a patch of wildflowers. A childhood friend? A relative? The details were too fuzzy, too indistinct to pick out. Shaking her head, Krystal walked on past it, bits and pieces of a hummed, half-forgotten melody drifting after her.

Leaves turned into moist planks under her paws, a small bridge crossing a babbling, splashing brook below. Flowering vines wound themselves around the woodwork of the railing, a blurry lantern of some sort dangling above her head from a hook, swaying and creaking softly in the wind. Little blots of bright color flickered and danced around it - fireflies, butterflies, flower petals? Impossible to tell. Somewhere below, a fish splashed the surface of the brook.

In the real world, she had little idea where the place was - only that she'd passed it enough times in her childhood to have it make an impression. It'd come up in different places in her dreams. Though one thing was sure, she knew where the path would lead to.. and like so many times before, she paused, feeling a strange sense of.. reluctance, of trepidation. Perhaps she should turn back..?

Despite herself, she couldn't help but smile softly and shake her head. She was a telepath, after all, or that's what her new friends called her.. no-one could lie to her. Least of all herself. She'd never turned back before.. and wouldn't, now, either. For all she knew, the dream-path would take her there no matter the direction she took.

It'd been spring when she'd passed the grove, but by the time she rounded a familiar-looking curve in the path, she found her paws sinking ankle-deep in freshly fallen snow. Stars twinkled overhead, so bright and clear in the winter night sky. A winding trail had been freshly tramped into the snowdrifts, leading up through a small yard up to a flight of wooden stairs. There was a house, or a memory of one.. blurred, indistinct, like everything else. Glittering icicles reached down from the edge of the snow-covered roof, and on the porch, rows of what looked like crystal lanterns twinkled and shone, casting a warm light.. and outlining the two figures standing in front of the house.

Krystal felt a strange block in her throat as she watched them - again, the details eluded her, like seeing them through a thick cloud of mist, stealing away the specifics, her memory blurred. Still, what she saw.. One of them was slender and graceful, clad in a dress of some sort, the other more sturdily built, more masculine. Sharply pointed vulpine ears perked up playfully, a flash of a smile, the wag of a long, richly furred tail. As she watched, the male caught the female in a brief embrace, muzzles dipping together in a soft nuzzle before they separated again.. and turned to face her. Both were tall, so very tall.. but then again, she'd been so small when the memory had taken.

"Mother," Krystal whispered, feeling tears of longing roll down her muzzle, "Father.." Her paws took her towards them without her even willing them to - though she offered no resistance, either. Two sets of phantom arms caught her in a gentle, warm embrace, their scents filling her muzzle - the one thing she remembered clearly, a faint masculine musk a dry whiff of warm sand, the herb-mixed, feminine fragrance of her mother.. the smell of family, of the home she'd lost.

Did you love me?, she wanted to ask, Why did you leave me? Did you look for me? She knew from experience that she wouldn't get an answer from them, that trying to force the memory would just chase away the dream - and push her away from what little she had left of her family. No amount of meditation or concentration would bring back the detail, let her see the faces of her parents - she'd have to wait until the next time her dreams brought her here.

"I can't even.. remember your names," she choked, burying her muzzle in the memory of warm fur, letting it soak up her tears. "I'm so sorry.." Half-remembered feelings of warmth and safety and love washed back at her and she quieted down, basking in it. Had they shared her gifts, she wondered, or was that 'merely' the bond between parents and child?

She didn't want it to end, but at the same time, a treacherous part of herself shied away, trying to back away from the source of her turmoil. She could've screamed when warm fur melted away, that scent lasting for a heartbeat more before fading, too. "I'll find you," she promised - eyes squeezed shut, waiting for the dream to end..

Instead, she felt cool rain replace that warm fur, the snow underneath her paws hardening into smooth, age-old stone. A distant rumble of thunder vibrated in her ears, the scents of rain and the bitter tang of ozone filling her nose. She opened her eyes.. and found herself standing in her memory of the Krazoa Temple.

This was new. A much more recent memory, one made by the mind an adult vixen, the ancient fortress-temple was sharp in her mind's eye, intricate patterns decorating the smooth, creamy stone. Rain hammered into the flagstones she stood upon, soaking into her fur, a flash of lightning overhead followed by a deep bass rumble of thunder that made her bones vibrate with it. A winding set of ancient stairs lead high, high up towards the pinnacle of the temple. Nearby, one of the octopus-like guardians of the temple floated past, its simple thoughts focused on an errand only it knew of, claw-tipped tentacles writhing - Krystal hadn't wanted to peer deeper into its mind on her first visit here in the real world, its quiet thought-chatter alien and disorienting even from a distance. Instead, she ignored it and had the favor repaid as she started her climb.

She'd come here for answers, she remembered, the stories and legends of the place marking it as a place of power.. a psychic amplifier, of sorts, letting one with the gift cast their mind's eye over vast distances, even into other worlds. She'd thought to use the place, to tap into that well of knowledge, to find the truth.. but instead, she'd found.. Memories of being trapped and helpless hit her, impressions of being drained of her will and life, a fly caught in amber, making her shudder, the temple blurring around her before she forced herself back into focus. Instead, she'd found a great evil.. but also..

Warmth flooded her at the memory of a warm hand catching hers, stopping her fall, and looking up to see a set of green eyes. A smile washed over her muzzle when she remembered the thoughts had hit her - so pure, as Fox hadn't had the faintest idea what she was, at the time. She remembered feeling the fire of adrenaline pounding through his veins, the frenzied beat of his heart, instinct-fueled action and fright melting away, help her-catch her turning into a victorious Got her!.. followed a breath later by a heartfelt, awed Beautiful that still made her blush.

Shaking away the (this time pleasant) memories, she was still smiling when she reached the top of the temple. Underneath herself, she could hear a faint energetic hum, the ancient machinery of the temple - half arcane, half clockwork, incomprehensible by whole- working like it had for millenia before she'd reached the place. The focus crystal in the center of the temple peak glittered as it spun quietly in its spot - empty, thankfully. She wasn't sure if she could've taken the sight of herself caught and pinned in the thing.

Nevertheless, she gave the thing a wide berth as she padded past it, and towards the platform at the opposite end of the peak - where the massive head of the Krazoa statue stared at her, silent, inscrutable. In the real world, it'd been perverted towards the cause of a madman who refused to stay dead, the temple's peak now bereft of its guardian - the true sculpture reduced to little more than shrapnel in Sauria's orbit - but here, in her dream, it was perfect, as if freshly carved. Those sightless eyes somehow peering into her soul, promising her knowledge and power - No difference between the two, it chided her - if she was worthy..

Thunder struck overhead, the deep boom startling her, the blinding flash of lightning that followed a heartbeat later washing the statue's blue-silver colors into a radiant ivory white. The wind caught her fur, tugging at her tail, whistling in her ears - and then her paws left the stones, stolen by the wind like a dry leaf. The rocky crags of the temple mountain whizzed past her, so close she could've reached out a hand to touch them as she fell past - for a moment, numbing terror flashing through her mind - and then the wind somehow caught on to her, pulling at her spread arms and legs, stroking her fur as falling turned into flying.

Dreaming of flying wasn't something she'd experienced often (half-accidentally dipping into the sleeping mind of a certain mercenary to sample his dreams of previous victories not really counting), but something inside her, some half-buried instinct, had her quickly relishing the sensation. The temple up above grew in size as she climbed towards it, buzzing the Krazoa statue as she flicked past it - for a heartbeat, she could've sworn the ancient, sculpted face wore a look of surprise - and then past it, ancient stone shrinking until the clouds beneath covered it from sight. Nothing but her, the skies, the clouds.. and the storm. She could feel its power all around her, an electric tingle in the air that made her hair and fur try and stand on its end, a might beyond her imagination. She danced in the clouds, dipping and weaving, flashes of lightning sending surges of warmth and power rushing through her. The sense of speed and height and freedom overwhelmed her, thunder stealing away her laughter of delight..

Little by little, she became aware of something in the storm - a vast shape that bent the winds and clouds around it.. or was it the winds and the clouds? Little whispers of conscience turned into distinct patterns buzzing through the back of her head as she flew towards the thing - and then, lightning struck again, and it was like the storm itself had opened its eyes. Winds screamed around her, winds of thought and feeling, a mind ancient and powerful, thoughts like storm fronts moving in strange, utterly alien shapes, like no mind she'd touched before - or was it? A nagging sense of familiarity tore at her, instinctive fright wanting her to fly away from the thing, even as a thin tendril of her will reached out to it..

_ Where are you? _

<<<<<>>>>>

Sometimes, Fox couldn't sleep.. so he walked the corridors of the Great Fox until feeling like it. The quiet thrumming hum of the great cruiser's systems all around himself, the hiss of the air scrubbers, the occasional gurgle of piping.. the quiet binary chirp-chatter of ROB conferring with the computers.. over the years it'd become the ambient noise of home to him, like a city-dweller might think of the rumble of traffic, or the rustle of wind and birdsong for a country boy. He'd so ingrained the sounds of the ship into himself that sometimes, he felt like he could navigate the corridors with his ears alone - or at least, had felt like it until the Aparoid Wars. Losing the first Great Fox had been like losing his home - not to even mention thinking having lost a dear old friend with it, as well.

Peppy was well and alive, thankfully, and their reward for services towards the whole benefit of the Lylat System and its people well over and beyond the call of duty (General Pepper's words, not his) had nicely funded the design, commission, and construction of the Great Fox II.. and left them with a nice collective balance afterwards, too.. but it'd be a long time before the new cruiser would feel like home to Fox. Every now and then he'd find his sleep cycle interrupted by some noise, or lack thereof, that on the old ship would've signified an atmo leak or an air scrubber giving out.. or some other critical failure that could've meant kissing their collective tails goodbye if not fixed soon. Of course, they didn't need to worry about such a thing on the new and shiny Fox II, but that didn't keep his instincts from kicking into high gear. So, he walked the ship, quietly, listening to its sounds and the echoes of his boots on the cool deck plating, letting his brain work out its issues until he thought he could sleep again.

This night, he was walking the crew deck, deep in his thoughts, and luckily for all involved, just happened to be walking past when one of his sensitive ears picked up a short, brief, feminine cry, or the beginnings of one, from a certain door, muffled but clear to him - a cry that turned into a wet hacking gargle and frenzied splashing.

"Krystal!"

Instinct had Fox moving before he even realized it - slamming his palm into the pressure reader beside the door. The thing had the gall to chirp a negative at him before accepting his captain's override, hydraulics whooshing as the reinforced door slid aside. Fox stumbled into the room at a half-run, eyes flicking over the place - for an official member of the team, a little part of him noted, Krystal had little personal effects on view - before dashing to the open door of the vixen's personal bathroom.

In any other situation, the vixen would've probably given him an elbow to his side - or a knowing smile, depending on their mood and company - for the thoughts like those that would've flicked through his head at the sight of the cerulean female lying in her bathtub, fur soaked to her skin. Right now, though, that was the furthest thing from his brain, watching her convulse, hacking water out of her lungs, splashing in the tub and trying to get her muscles under control. He didn't even need to think about it working on pure instinct, catching a towel off the rack next to the door and tossing it over her with one hand while bodily hauling her out of the tub with the other. Out of the water, the struggle of her graceful limbs quieted down, soon turning into a shiver.

"..What happened?" She was freezing cold, he realized, soaked in cold water. Wrapping his arms around her by instinct, he held her close in his lap - and was rewarded by the feel of her curling up against his chest, clearly taking comfort from the warmth his body provided. Little by little, the shakes were subsiding, the wracking coughs stopping as she emptied what must've been a third of the tub's worth of water out of her system. Sometimes, Fox wished he had her powers of the mind - that he could touch her, look into her eyes, and know what she was thinking and feeling. This, seeing the fright in her wide-open, emerald eyes as she craned her head up to look at him, wasn't one of those moments.

"Something.. touched me," Krystal gasped out, shuddering at the memory, her hand clutching his arm like a lifeline. "Fox.. there's.. there's something coming.."

<<<<<>>>>>

Dawn was coming, and the Wayfarer was humming along like a kitten, getting ready to go. Karen Collins, commander of the explorator vessel, could feel the vibrations from the little ship's engines and fusion plant hum all the way through the deckplates and up her legs, through her spine and into her brain, where it translated into the usual, energetic, almost giddy sensation that made the collie's rich, floofy tail wag behind her. Another world, soon behind her. Hundreds more to see! Around her, the bridge crew was busy doing their final check-ups - most of them too busy to comment of their Captain's good spirits, save for a few smiles that everyone could share.

"Bridge, Patris. You there, M'am?"

Blue eyes snapped open at the crackly interruption, one of the collie's hands reaching up to touch across the comlink wrapped around her right ear. "Patris, Bridge. What's going on?"

"There's someone here wanting to see you. m'am. One of the natives." There was a hesitant pause. "You might want to get down here."

A native? The native population - vulpine offshoots - hadn't really been interested in coming anywhere near the Wayfarer, despite their promises of friendliness. In the end, the explorers had had to take to using one of the rovers to get to the nearby village and back - and it was a good three hours of a walk. Anyone who came up here from the village, alone - well, they had to be determined for some reason. "I'll be right there, Patris."

Five minutes later, Karen slipped her way past Patris - the tiger's striped tail twitching as she passed him, green eyes fixed on the figure standing in front of the Wayfarer'_s gaping cargo ramp. She could tell that something had the marine.. _twitchy, for lack of a better expression - and for a good reason, once she got a good eye on their mysterious visitor.

Tall, was her first impression, tall and damn broadly built for a fox - if she didn't know better she would've guessed at a bit of wolf blood in him. Strong muscles shifting under sturdy traveling clothes, a heavy-looking satchel tossed over his back.. and bright, inquisitive eyes glancing around himself, taking in the sights. There was no fear whatsoever of the massive Wayfarer, only curiosity, despite the constant rumble-hiss of the idling thrusters on both sides of the cargo ramp, its hot, ozone-scented breath tugging at fur and clothes. As she stepped up, those eyes turned to look at her - flicking up and down her body once before focusing on her face. And not in the usual way, either - most of the natives seemed to think it odd that a woman would be in charge of their little expedition. This one--he didn't look at her like a piece of meat, or an oddity. He scanned her, weighed her - she'd seen that look before, usually on a battle-hardened Marine. Threat, or no threat?

No threat, she could see the impression as those eyes softened - only when she relaxed a little (as did the tiger beside her), did she realize she'd tensed up. Meanwhile, the todd's eyes locked with hers, a searching look in them - golden eyes, she realized, supporting her hunch about mixed blood. That particular shade of striking, near-reflective gold was more common with wolves..

Black-tipped fingers rose, pressing against one another at level with a toned, leather-clad chest. White-tipped muzzle opened, sharp teeth flashing. He had a deep voice, coupled with an interesting accent - low, oddly rasping, drawing out throaty consonants into near-growls - giving a curious counter-point to the more flowing, sing-song sound she'd already learned to connect with the locals.

"This one lays these eyes upon you for the first time," droned the translator box dangling from Collins' hip after a moment - the voice perhaps a little bit halting, without emotion or inflection, but it got the point through. "This one is known as -translation error- of Mount Coryal. Does the wanderer/traveler/sojourner speak with the lord/master/leader of this.." There was a moment's pause as those golden eyes flicked up to the steel belly of the Wayfarer, "..vessel?"

The collie's eyebrow shot up, her hand slipping down to give the side of the translator box a soft smack - solid-state circuitry, of course, didn't care one whit for it, but she couldn't help the instinct. An obscure dialect, maybe? She hadn't had this much trouble with the thing in weeks. Though what did come through - she hadn't had the time to get all the cultural nuances down pat, but that'd sounded an awfully lot like she'd imagine one would greet a warlord in their stronghold. With the added bonus of firm but not subservient - very confident of oneself, especially seeing as he hadn't named a village to back himself up.. Coryal? All the way up there? He must've been walking for weeks. A day more, and he'd have missed them!

"I lay my eyes upon you for the first time.." She paused for a moment, trying to approximate the word she thought was his name. Skee? Schrai? There was that odd throaty ring to it that made it hard to tell, "of Coryal. I am Karen Collins, captain of the Wayfarer. For what purpose have you journeyed this far?"

Golden eyes flashed softly at her in amusement, the black-ringed, white-tipped lengh of a rich, fluffy vulpine tail flicking. "You may call this one Skye, Karen Collins Captain of the Wayfarer," he corrected gently, forming the unfamiliar words slowly, before shaking his head, expression turning serious. "This one heard stories/rumors/secrets of a ship/vessel that travels between the stars," he murmured - Collins idly tapped at the side of the translator box again, wincing at the halting speech it issued when the fox was done. "This one has need/must/duty to ask for a favor of you, Karen Collins Captain of-"

"Captain Collins will do," the collie interrupted, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. "What is it that you need? While I hate to be inhospitable, the Wayfarer is getting ready to depart your world. I'll soon be needed elsewhere."

The fox lifted an eyebrow, then chuckled, flexing a little - she could feel the tiger tensing up mildly beside herself. Something about the fox - it seemed to have the big feline on edge.. "Good. This one prefers to be direct," the todd rumbled, sharp teeth flashing. "This one wants/needs/must accompany you, at least for a while."

A single eyebrow shot up, Collins cocking her hip to the side and crossing her arms under her chest. "You must, really? Well, we're not a taxi service, Mr. Skye.. a ferry," she clarified at the look she got at the reference. "The Wayfarer is an explorer ship. We find new worlds, new places, new people - we don't pick up natives. The commission'd wear my tail for a belt-"

"No! You do not see/know/understand.." He took a step closer - Patris' hand went to his holster, until Collins hissed at him, ears folding back. Skye halted in his tracks, golden eyes flicking between the two, a soft rumble in his chest. "I am no hot-head looking for glory and adventure," he murmured. "There is a thing/precious/treasure lost/missing/taken from me - it is not under this sky. I know/feel/_see it - I _need/must/duty to come with you, to find it. To learn/know the stars - to reclaim my duty/honor/charge." Golden eyes looked up at her, boring into hers - so old, she realized, like an old soldier, filled with need and determination.. "Please, Captain Collins" he rumbled, muzzle scrunching up like the word tasted bad on his tongue. "Do not make me beg."

Just for a moment, she was ready to tell him to turn back. But the look in his eyes - she knew that if she said no.. there might not be violence. But.. she wasn't looking forwards to having her security find a stowaway among the landing gear, either.

"Come up to my cabin, Mr. Skye," she finally sighed, shaking her head. "We'll talk more. And maybe - maybe - we can work something out."

Crazy furball, she thought, shaking her head softly. Striking crazy furball, certainly, though - she'd never seen that combination of colors before on a fox, eyes such a bright, wolf-like gold.. and fur such a deep, rich, dark regal blue to go with it.