Chapter 30: When It All Falls Down

“Just wait here for a moment, little one. I'll be gone for just a few minutes." Krystal gestured for Silver to take a seat at one of the common room's couches and the wolf pup unlatched himself from her side and quickly moved to obey, flopping heavily into the silky pliancy of the expensive cushions with a heavy sigh and a slightly distended belly as he shifted his youthfully capricious attention span to the television across from him.

For a second the vixen smiled at the memory of the previous break of day as she placed a guiding paw on the wall and slowly limped her way into the room. Silver had performed the same morning routine he had settled into for the past few days, which consisted of a hectic attack upon her mattress as he urged the female to wake up for breakfast. It was a habit she had a feeling would become permanent for the duration of his stay with Starfox. As this was perhaps the only time in his life where he could not only reliably find a meal, but consume as much as he could physically devour and fit into his adolescent stomach, the childish lupine had come to anticipate his meals with near fervent enthusiasm.

Yet she was more than content with pampering him in this small indulgence. She sought at every available opportunity to give him the devotion and love every young pup deserved. And in doing so, she had grown irrefutably fond of the little rascal, and he was never all that far from her presence either.

A percentage of her, one Krystal tried to deny in part to its egotism, had perhaps only clung to the child as a result of her current mating cycle, predisposed maternal instinct latching onto the unexpected variable that was Silver. But no matter if that was true, the affection she felt for Silver was not born of her sudden desire for some young to nurture. She genuinely cared for the young wolf, and saw something inside him that perhaps warmheartedly reminded her of a certain dour individual. However different Silver was in his view on life, she often saw him make the very same expression Six would habitually adopt whenever he encountered some aspect of society that particularly baffled him.

And as days had soon stretched into weeks with no sign or word from the noble soldier or Miyu, Krystal grasped for anything that could bring her some relief in her time of uncertainty. It was no comfort to her that Pepper as well had seemingly lost contact with the next scouting party he had diverted to Katina. And in a series of events that worried not only her, but the rest of the team as well, for the past few days, the cornerian fleet had seen an exponential rise in manufacturing and enlistment.

Already the space-docks were each occupied by the skeletal beginnings of several battleships and other lower tonnage fleet craft, with similar news emerging from Eladard, Fortuna, and Aquas. These were all the marks of a civilization's preparations for an imminent conflict, which only drove Krystal's fears further onwards as she longed for Six and Miyu to come back to her.

Yet the presence of Silver had been paramount in offering her some ease of mind. The rascally pup was a great source of lighthearted interaction that the vixen desperately found herself needing, which brought her to the reason she had asked Fox to meet with her in one of the private rooms nearby.

Though he was busy as of late holding clandestine meetings with General Pepper, she had finally managed to both collect the courage she needed and found a few moments where Fox was not occupied with whatever it was he so poorly tried to hide from her and the rest of the team. And perhaps that knowledge that he seemed to know something and was keeping them away from it, was enough cause that she needed to press her inquiry.

Whatever it may be, she was both gladdened and concerned when Fox finally arrived, the vulpine appearing somewhat bedraggled as he made his way over to her. Krystal did not wish to burn any nerve she possessed on inconsequential formality and quickly gestured to the closed door beside her before stepping inside.

Compared to most of the lavish furnishing and size devoted to a majority of The Great Fox's interior construction. This room and the other ones connected to it were at one point during the initial plans drawn up for the dreadnought, designed to accommodate the lower caste of personal assigned to such a vessel. But with the relatively barebones integer that currently presided in the starship, such quarters had been formed into ad-hock, and more private areas of relaxation. Each of course remained in possession of a cot and other various dormitory fixtures that had been installed originally, but had since been somewhat converted to a more informal and relaxed arrangement, something more like to be found on a starliner then a military dorm.

Deciding to occupy one of the chairs ringing a small metal table, she carefully set herself down with a momentary wince of pain in her lower back that soon faded to a dull twinge that she could ignore if she focused hard enough. Having only just managed to pull away from her wheeled prison the day before, the vixen had yet to fully regain control over her unutilized extremities. In all probability, if not for Silver's help, she would not have been able to walk her way down to the common room. Thankfully, the pup seemed keen to make himself useful, and had taken to his improvised role as her assistant with boundless eagerness. She really was grateful for his presence, with Six and Miyu gone, and unwilling to pester the others with her concerns, she had been undergoing some private difficulty with her mobility.

Krystal groaned inaudibly and kneaded the sore muscles in her back as she looked to the doorway, watching as Fox entered and set himself across from her with a tired sigh. From the short span of steel tabletop separating them, Krystal was able to get a closer look at her friend, noticing the true depth of his exhaustion. A slight flare of concern and pity upwelled from inside her, as she realized that the disappearance of two of his teammates as well as whatever he so tenaciously withheld from them, had taken a toll on the tod.

“So… you wish to discuss the future of Silver I take it?"

Krystal was somewhat taken aback by the vulpine's easy deduction of why she had called upon him, or at least that he had been so blunt about it. The male must truly be drained to forego his usual warmth and welcoming personality.

Feeling a not insubstantial portion of her resolve quaver, she nodded her head sternly; taking in that moment a lesson she had learned from Six's stalwart mannerism.

“You are correct."

Fox leaned heavily into his chair at that, the tod rubbing at his brow tiredly. “Yes, I had assumed after your tenth or so appeal to lengthen his stay that you had something more permanent in mind. And I really do agree with you on some level. The kid's had it rough, even Falco admitted to that. And I won't deny that he seems content enough here as is…"

Krystal sensed that there was a strong 'but' coming along with this, and she was soon to be found correct.

“But… a mercenary outfit is not exactly the best place for a kid. I mean we live mostly on an active warship that frequently finds itself charging headfirst into conflict zones. Not to mention that we cannot within the realm of law, keep an unregistered minor. He'd have to be logged in the orphan registry and then adopted before we could even get that far. Then there's the matters with the courts and the paperwork to be signed till anyone could take him on."

“I would be willing to do all this to have him." Krystal spoke quickly and with quiet determination, almost before Fox finished talking. “And the risks would not be any more dangerous than the way he had been living before."

Fox closed his eyes and bowed his head, sighing softly as he propped his muzzle up with an arm, perhaps the only thing preventing him from collapsing. “I know that you are rather… attached to the child. Everyone, even Slippy likes the kid too. Hell, I like the damn kid. Silver's got spirit, and resilience to match it. But… do you really think he'd be happy here?"

Krystal considered the vulpine's words seriously, and came to a decision easily. After all the time she had spent with him the answer was all but apparent.

“Yes… I really think he will."

Fox's emerald gaze slowly peeled open, focusing in on the vixen with intensity unmatched by any but Noble Six. “Krystal, I am going to be deathly direct with my next question. Are you certain that this is not all because of… recent developments? I know you took a heavy blow at Six and Miyu's disappearance, everyone did. And I am only pressing this subject to be fair with the child. He's been through a hell of a lot. I won't have him used simply to make you feel better."

The vixen's fur bristled and she felt the hackles around her neck rise as she quelled the furious rage that erupted within her without warning at Fox's very blunt accusation. To think he could possibly consider she'd want the child just to fill some… some... fucking hole in her heart...

A loud crash filled the silence of the room as Krystal brought a clawed paw slamming into the small table with sufficient enough force to warp the thin metal, her jaws snapping shut with the clack of sharp fangs as a reverberant growl boomed within the confines of her throat. “Do not assume I would act so selfishly, Fox." She snarled through clenched teeth. “This is as much for Silver as it is for me. He needs a home, an honest home with a real bed and people who care enough to give him the damned support he deserves… not that… that farce of a life he was living before."

Her scowl deepened as she recalled all that the child had told her, the make and measure of his daily desperations. “That is no way for a child to live! And I intend with every fiber of my being to right such a wrong, whether or not I have your consent."

In the aftermath of her thunderous voice, the room took upon itself a deafening silence where even her own ears were ringing, and Krystal wondered that she had been so loud. She had not even been aware that she raised her voice till she had finished railing Fox with her thoughts.

To his credit, the vulpine did not show any adverse reaction to her response, instead he nodded to himself with an irritatingly smug grin as he moved to stand. “Well that about clears it up for me. I'm putting you on two days, paid vacation."

Krystal spluttered as she choked on the saliva that had been pooling in her mouth. “W-what?' She stuttered weakly, her righteous rage vanishing as quickly as it had manifested.

“Two days, that should be long enough for you to do what you need to." Fox replied with a frankness that kept her from fully reassembling her thoughts. “Oh… and while you're out, can you please get that poor pup some decent clothes?"

Smiling at the utterly befuddled look on the vixen's muzzle, Fox departed the room where he saw the young lupine lazily stretched out across a couch, his paw hovering over the remote for the television that so thoroughly engaged him. The child's eyes roved across the chamber till they landed on the tod, stiffening slightly as he noticed the owner of the vessel he had come to call home for the past week and onwards.

Before he could say anything the vulpine flashed the child a toothy grin and snapped his furred digits as he pointed finger guns at the staring child, clicking his teeth with his tongue.

“Eh… stay out of trouble for the next few days, sport."

Confused, the youth simply nodded in reply and watched as the male fox strolled out of the common room. A few moments later the vixen that had taken such a keen interest in him reappeared from the room they had entered and seemed somewhat out of sorts.

Concerned, the child rolled off the couch and arrested his fall with his feet before stumbling up to her. “Miss Krystal… is something the matter? Are you alright?" He asked fearfully. She had accomplished much in the past few weeks to earn both his worry and his trust. She was there for him whenever and wherever he needed her, almost like a mother would. Though he was far too afraid to ever call her that to her muzzle, he did think it at times.

The female did not answer him for some time, though her expression slowly warmed to that look he had come to admire so much as she turned to regard him with a soft, growing smile and a tender voice. “How would you feel about calling me mom instead?"

*****

Fox did not bother to linger, trusting that Krystal would prefer to handle the rest of the details herself. Truthfully, he still held a hundred-and-one concerns about allowing Silver to stay. But he decided that if the worst were to indeed happen. He would in all likelihood actually be safer with them then on any one planet. In fact he had hardly been able to focus on Krystal's conversation.

Sleep had swiftly turned into a commodity these past days, and he had hardly slept since the cruiser with Six and Miyu aboard, missed their first check in… as had the next cruiser Pepper sent. That had been a serious blow to his morale as well as that of the crew, yet he did not and could not count them out. After all, Six had been presumed dead once before. Fox had learned that it took a hell of a lot to kill a spartan, and Miyu was just as tenacious.

Still, his life had turned into nothing but strategy meetings and cloistered conferences with the admiralty and Prime Minister. There was little doubt now that some force was arrayed against them, and the civilians were starting to question why they couldn't reach their family on Katina, and why the flights stopped between the two planets some weeks ago. Thankfully, the combination of false news reports and a military blockade quarantining all known space routes to Katina and back, made most consider it as simply a result of some industrial accident in orbit that rendered such traffic dangerous. It was an insubstantial story, one that was not to hold for long, but for now it kept the civilians mollified.

Fox yawned, straining to grasp the ebbing tide of alertness he could already feel leaving him. Even now he was scheduled to meet Pepper again to discuss a topic he was not entirely looking forward to. It had come to the General's attention that if the Aparoids were a true and present danger, that it was perhaps time Fox saw to increase the capacity of his crew. The ship could hold more than five times was currently staffing it, and Pepper seemed to believe that The Great Fox could see to gain from carrying a more sizeable fighter and groundside capability. Indeed if this was a war to outstrip all previous, such might be more a necessity than a good idea.

That did not mean he would have to accept such a change so easily. Starfox had been built on the foundation of a smaller, more familial group, and this change would destroy what his father had created. If not for Peppy's advice, he would not have even considered this, yet the hare spoke truth as he was like to do.

James's legacy not the ship itself, but the memories and stories of its crew, and perhaps that this change was indeed for the better.

Sometimes he hated that damn rabbit.

“What's this, off to talk with Pepper again?"

Fox stopped in the hall as he watched Katt and Fay make their way towards him, the two females ducking out from within the workshop as he had passed by. Nodding to answer their question, he foisted some premeditated excuse upon them. The rest of Starfox was not too curious yet why he so frequently went out to speak with Pepper, and he hoped to belay that conversation for as long as he could.

“Could you pick up some things on your way back?" Fay asked hopefully. “We'd been just about to leave, but if you're already going…"

“Sure no prob." He nodded. “Just message me what it is and I'll swing by the market to grab it."

“Thanks Fox, you're a lifesaver. Now I can finally kick Fay's ass at that stupid game of hers that she keeps wailing about." Katt nudged the canine teasingly. “What was it called again? Call of Enormously Innovative what?"

Fay sighed, her chops burning in embarrassment as she muttered. “Call of Infinitely Advanced Warfare 4. I just got all the DLC's."

At that Katt exploded uproariously into laughter as she slapped the spaniel on her back. “Next time somebody asks me for another sixty credits of paid content I'll sock em a good one for trying to extort me."

Rolling his eyes, Fox said his goodbyes to the pair and, with no other interruption, departed from the ship. His good mood soured by worrying thoughts.

Just where the hell are you, Six?

Concerning him perhaps more than the aparoids was the fact both the spartan and Miyu were unable to be contacted, where in fact a whole world could not be reached. If this was how the aparoids waged war, if they could so effortlessly silence an entire planet, then he was terrified to fight them, all the more so that Six and Miyu were gone.

Both were his best boots on the ground, and now he did not even know if they were alive. This vexed him, but more than that, it made him fear the possibilities. If they were… dead, then there was perhaps no chance to win.

If they could kill a spartan, after everything Fox had seen him accomplish, then what chance did they have?

No.

He would not entertain the chance of losing. They would win, defeat was not an option. If the aparoids finally revealed themselves they would quickly learn why the CDF had repelled Andross at every turn. He would do everything in his power to protect Fara and his family, as was befitting of any Mccloud.

Fox reached for his waist as he waited at an intersection for the pedestrian light, inspecting the circular device clasped to his belt, the alien contraption humming quietly as it unceasingly preformed its sole function. The vulpine recalled the last conversation he had with Six as he studied the strange apparatus, what was from the spartan's description, some form of shielding, much like what the human's armor used and a far superior replacement to his old deflector.

Six had stressed to him its importance, that the one he had given both himself and Krystal were irreplaceable, and were the culmination of countless hours of labor and one-off alien technology. If they broke, there would be no substitutions.

The vulpine just hoped it would not be the last gift he would ever receive from the spartan. He could do little else but continue to believe in the hope that his friends were still alive and well wherever they were. Starfox… his family, would never again be the same without the human supersoldier and the fiery lynx.

The pedestrian icon flashed white and Fox joined the crowd, the male's thoughts still lingering on his errant companions.

*****

Silver shifted uncomfortably in the stiff backed chair he had been wiggling about on for the past several hours. The young lupine's discomfort however carried past the rigid and inert seat. Anxious blue eyes roved across the small waiting room, their owner observing the pale white walls and opposite row of equally unpleasant chairs as he waited for Miss Krystal to reemerge from the office at the end of the chamber.

The magazine in his lap had long ago ceased to be of any interest to him, leaving the pup to count the checkerboard tiling of the floor in a poor effort to alleviate his boredom. However, it did give him more than enough time to think, and he certainly had a lot to think about.

Silver had already dragged his thoughts back to his interim with these kind people more than once as he sat in the definite silence, each recollection of his wondering at what exactly he had done to so easily intertwine himself with the most famous individuals in all of Lylat. Of all the billons of souls he could have imprinted upon, he had unwittingly managed to grab the attention of the Starfox team. He was a nobody, a nothing, someone you would hardly notice on the streets. Yet here he was, sitting in the waiting room of an adoption agency, waiting for the papers to be finalized.

The wolf child could certainly admit that he had not seen this development coming. Even after Miss Krystal had asked him it had not truly hit him till the moment they travelled through the city and stepped inside the building.

He was an orphan no longer.

That was…

Silver could not accurately describe the feeling.

Undoubtedly there was relief, even perhaps joy, yet all the same a small part of him felt… numb. There were too many emotions running through his mind for him to experience one for more than a few seconds, and even then he hardly noticed its passing for the next, too preoccupied with more earthen thoughts.

Did he call Miss Krystal mom now? Was Mister Six his father? What did that make the other members of the Starfox team? He had hardly even had a chance to meet the male he might call dad before he went off on an assignment that he had yet to return from weeks hence. It was too much with too little time to come to terms.

Would he have to start going to school? Would any school even take him? What would he do now that he no longer had to fight for scraps?

With considerations like these it was little wonder that the small collection of reading material set out for him was for the most part ignored as he started to wonder.

Why were they doing this? Why invest so much in a stupid kid like him? They certainly had to gain something out of it? He just could not see what. But he was confident that he would not have to wait long now for it to become known to him. Surely once they returned Miss Krystal and the others would drop the benevolent exteriors they had been maintaining. It would all be one huge joke at his expense and it would be back to the streets from there. Or perhaps not, he had hardened himself to good fortune, having experienced nothing but the opposite in his short life.

He told himself, there and now in that instant, to steel himself for the impending moment when the carpet of pleasantness would be ripped out from underneath him.

The young lupine froze at the sound of the far door opening, watching with uncertain eyes as Miss Krystal reemerged from within the confines of the office, the vixen mid-discussion with the elderly mouse that owned and operated this particular organization. His blood chilled and he felt his fur prickle as she finished her conversation with a small smile before turning towards him.

As she approached he kept telling himself to expect the worst, the adolescent trembling in sickly anticipation. It was all just a joke, she had never wanted him anyways, none of them had wanted him, they were just using him as a game, they never liked him, he would be alone on the streets again, he would be cold, he would be scared, he would b-

His inner babbling and turmoil was swept up and swaddled in an overarching sense of warmth that he discovered was not entirely mercurial, and he found all his wild fears and scattered concerns vanishing within the calming embrace of a feeling he wished not to fade.

Silver sat in the chair dumbfounded as Miss Krystal squeezed him tight, the vixen holding him snuggly as if she feared he might float away. And in that moment she whispered two simple words that would stay with him for as long as he lived.

“My son."

*****

That night there was a small celebration onboard the Great Fox in commemoration of the newest member of the Starfox family. Though it was the first, it was also the strangest party Silver had ever been a part to. Juice flowed freely, anything harder having been shelved for the moment considering his age, and he was allowed to experience the rare treat of Miss Krystal's cooking, what was in all ways superior to that of any machine's capabilities to fabricate. Though… he was not sure if he should call her mom, the thought was… strange still. The idea was a hard one to grasp, and he knew it would be a while before he would be comfortable enough to consider that.

All in all, it was an enjoyable event, everyone was friendly and seemed for all intents and purposes to be happy with his permanence amongst them, though he often found himself in awkward conversation. With such mythic figures, it was hard for him to discover how to properly interact with them, and there were more than a few quite moments.  Somehow, thankfully, he was able to endure the attention, and even had some genuine fun as he found himself roped into an intense video game match or two with the younger and more spirited members of the team

By the time the celebration petered off, when some few hours had passed and the food was divvied out, the attention around him began to die off. It was then that Mister Lombardi had offered to take him down to the range inside the bowels of the ship, though Miss Krystal had been quick to take him away from there, not before of course scolding the unsurprisingly unrepentant avian.

As they returned back to the common room where Miss Monroe and Spaniel were just finishing cleaning up the party favors, Miss Krystal pulled him to the side to sit at one of the sofas. With little complaint, Silver obediently took his place as directed, not wishing to upset her in any way. Though she had done well to appear otherwise, the pup could tell that she was quite stressed at the moment. He had garnered enough knowledge from his times on the streets to become somewhat aware of other's moods, a skill that had assisted him in avoiding more than a few bad situations.

He also knew that she was so tense because Mister Six had not returned when he should have. Silver did not possess any awareness or understanding of the situation at large, but he grasped enough to know that did not mean well for anyone, Miss Krystal especially.

The vixen placed a paw on his shoulder, turning his attention outwards as she spoke softly, appearing troublingly tired as she did. “Now Silver, seeing as you will be staying here indefinitely, I think it's time we see about getting you a room of your own. I'm sure you'll be glad for the space. Don't you think?"

“Yes Miss Krystal." He nodded his head dutifully, trying to not stare at the deeply etched bags underneath her eyelids. Silver recalled that she had been busy all day, running through the city and sitting in offices, all in an effort to finish the papers that would legally bind him to her. However, he knew that not all of those lines were from her work today.

The female did a lot for him, had pushed to be allowed to take him under her wing, and he felt some form of obligatory concern for her, as well as a great deal more personal worry. “Are you alright, Miss Krystal?"

The vixen smiled and patted his head at his words as she motioned for him to follow her. “Of course sweetie, nothing a good few hours of sleep won't cure. Now then, let's get you settled little one."

Unwilling to argue with his guardian, Silver dutifully followed after her and buried his misgivings as they entered the main access corridor, soon arriving at the hall reserved for personnel quarters. Passing five or six doors down, they stepped at the one right next to that where she herself slept, and the vixen gestured at it invitingly. “This room is perfect. It's right across from me so that if you need anything I'll only be a few steps away." 

Lowering herself to kneel beside him, the female fox wrapped him up in one last hug and with a parting goodnight, she entered her own room with a near unnoticeable limp, leaving him to stand in the hall. The young wolf pup stared at his new bedroom, a concept that was something of a novelty for him. To think, only a few weeks ago he had been a homeless youth stranded on the streets, now, he had a family and a bedroom all to himself.

That was quite the step up, though; he could hardly enjoy his achievements as he was reminded of his benefactor's fragile condition. What she needed was Mister Six to come back. Silver had learned in the old days to pray, so after stepping into his room and taking a few minutes to settle in it, he offered up a prayer for Mister Six, that he and Miss Lynx would return safely, for Miss Krystal's wellbeing if not their own.

*****

A shallow grunt of discomfort easing past her lips, Krystal gingerly set herself down upon the enticing softness of her mattress and eased back into its cushioned encirclement. In that moment as she felt the muscles in her lower back spasm infrequently, she wished that she had heeded MAD's advice and just taken the walking cane. Yet a stubborn streak from her old prideful nature had prevented her from taking the offered assistance, certain in that moment that she could walk unaided.

Some two weeks later and a particular arduous fifteen hours of work shuffling documents and speaking with representatives showed her just how foolish her vanity had been. Nonetheless, she was committed now. Still, she took some pride in her accomplishments despite the factors arrayed against her.

All the same…

Krystal shifted uneasily in her bed, feeling cold and vulnerable on the large paillasse despite any number of blankest she might cover herself in. It was as if there was some intrinsic variable missing that denied her peaceful rest. And though the female did know the exact cause of her disquiet, she did not dwell on it, as she had learned to do so brought nothing but an unpleasant sense of anguish.

The only thing to offer her comfort was the remembrance of a promise that had been made to her, from someone that had never before broken his word. She would find sleep, but not for several hours yet before her exhaustion finally overpowered her. Krystal knew exactly what would return her peace of mind, what would give her a pleasant rest, and all she could do about it was continue to hope for its swift return.

True to form, the vixen laid awake in her bed for a long time before finally succumbing to a fitful and unrestful slumber.

*****

A piercing, thunderous shriek echoed within his skull, the earsplitting salvo of an artillery battery impacting the concrete barricade less than a meter from his position, the ensuing percussive wave of heat and air sending the spartan hurtling out of cover, armor sparking as it skipped across the ground like a rock tossed upon a lake's surface by an enraged god. 

Seconds passed as he crashed into a poorly erected defensive fortification of scrap metal and what appeared to be the broken remnant of an assault tank. The spartan let loose a reluctant hiss through pursed lips at the stabbing crack of pain in his chest, the concurrent section of his breastplate caved in a shallow divot of a preexisting grievance.

Nevertheless, even as he smashed into the wreckage, the human supersoldier was already in motion. Ignoring the numerous injuries he had sustained since their untoward arrival upon the surface of Katina, the warrior utilized his imparted momentum to roll into a crouched stance, his rifle thundering in deadly fury as he emptied the entirety of its magazine into the lumbering behemoth of chitin and cybernetics as it drunkenly smashed through the military installation's flagging defenses… and watched once more as the heavy munitions exploded harmlessly against the titanic creature's thick armor plating.

In a brief moment of lapsed self-control, the spartan allowed a bitter curse to turn vocal as he once more was confronted by the futility of his actions.

In a split second his assault rifle's hungry belly was filled with a fresh magazine, the spartan shifting its raging maw to engage a pack of the smaller hostiles that swarmed in the wake of the colossal machine. He knew from quickly garnered experience that this tactic proved to be far more effective, the 12.7x108mm rounds easily ripping into the shells of these smaller combatants.

A scattered flurry of red bolts joined his fusillade and the spartan glanced momentarily towards his rear to the small squad of heavily armored soldiers and their much more numerous albeit lesser compatriots who were dispersed through the war ravaged terrain, and upon seeing that the other defenders were finally rearmed and reengaged, he swiftly slipped into a fighting withdrawal to extract himself from the melee and rejoin the frontline. It took the augmented human only moments to cross the mile long stretch of enemy territory before he was once more back within the safety of the hurriedly established defensive position.

There was no rest for Noble Six, the spartan already running a diagnostic on his rifle, the weapon's barrel smoking dangerously from overuse. Two weeks stranded on this planet and he had certainly put the prototype through its paces. The human did eventually turn his attention away from his firearm to acknowledge the approach of the local leadership.

Six took in the scruffy appearance of the beleaguered canine, his armor tarnished with dried blood and grime, yet the stoic grimace of determination had yet to leave the man's expression, which spoke quite highly of his resolve. The spartan had yet to find reason to fault his actions thus far. For the manner of enemy they faced, he had overseen all operations with an impressive tactical expertise.

Lowering his heated weapon, Six cut the canine commander a sharp, albeit brief salute, which was unsurprisingly waived away with a grim chuckle. For as shortly as Six had known him, Lieutenant Colonel Bill Grey was an admirably straightforward individual.

“Excellent work out there, spartan." Bill offered his praise with a short, nearly unnoticed change in his appearance, seeming for a second to be remarkably relieved. “My soldiers are tired enough as it is, and your excursions into enemy hardpoints have done much to alleviate that burden." Even as he spoke, the Lieutenant Colonel looked past the towering supersoldier and watched as the colossal alien machine once more withdrew from the field, an event that seemed almost like clockwork at this point.

Every assault on the installation started in much the same way. The massive rounded walker would smash into the front line, unload its cargo of ground forces, engage CDF armor, and then withdraw before a proper counterattack could be initiated. It was a repetitive, thoughtless tactic, but an effective one nonetheless. If not for the arrival of the spartan and the elite Special Forces team, they might not have been able to hold back the attacks.

Most of the planetary garrison was focused on defending the civilian shelters, leaving the base itself quite vulnerable to attack; a situation the enemy had little qualms with exploiting. Yet with the arrival of even this small team, their efforts had more than tripled their admittedly short odds at surviving, and perhaps even repelling this unusual and utterly tenacious foe.

The hulking soldier alone contributed nearly forty-five percent of mission kills since his arrival. Bill did not know what he would do if the male were to suffer a crippling injury, or worse, be killed. And despite the warrior's continued efforts, and showing little need for respite, Bill could see now more than ever that their best chance at winning was running himself ragged.

The spartan's once stiff and rigid posture was wilting, his armor of heavy azure plates torn and crumpled, no longer was it the pristine, gallant image of a feudal knight. His voice, vacant of that commanding tenacity, was now hoarse and ill-tempered. This was a male who was pushing himself to his limits, and Bill knew if he did not say anything, he would in all likelihood push himself too far. And that would not help anyone.

Bill sighed. “Look Lieutenant… take a few hours to rest, get some chow, see the doc about some of those wounds and get yourself sorted out."

As expected, the soldier immediately tried to protest.

“But Sir…"

“No butts, soldier. I'm not interest in any ass. That's an order. You can't fight if you're dead. Now go and rest up. If you don't, I'll send Miyu after you with a field promotion so she can ensure that you'll do as directed."

“That… won't be necessary, Sir." The spartan reluctantly conceded.

It was clear he was more cautious of the lynx than of a superior officer, and that was enough to make the canine chuckle.

“Good, god knows we have little enough time as it is to recuperate before the next assault. I expect you to be as close to a hundred percent as you can be next time that damned walker comes back. Commander Ivanova has apparently drawn up a plan to take that lumbering bastard out. And I'll need you if it is to work."

“Of course, Sir." Six nodded rigidly, more in part to the stiffness of his muscles rather than of any cold intent. Though adorned with an air of reluctance, there was perhaps a near unnoticeable note of relief in his tone, which spoke of the true depth of his fatigue.

Bill dismissed the spartan with a wave in the direction of the barracks building, which as a small blessing had remained reasonably untouched throughout the prolonged conflict. Unfortunately the same could not be said of the motor pool or the command building itself. Most of the base was in ruins, multiple breaches in the fortifications and near a third of their immediate fighting force either dead or walking wounded. With only three landmasters in varying levels of function and maybe four or five strike fighters if they were able to scrounge enough spare parts, Bill hoped that Miss Ivanova's plan had accounted for those details.

“God Damnit, where's Fox when you need him?" Bill wondered with a laugh that was more akin to a grunt. He knew that if Fox and his entire team were here, that they could take down that damned walker on their own. Still, he at least had two of the vulpine's team with him. He didn't know all that much about this spartan, had only heard whispered stories from his soldiers about the strange warrior that had struck fear into the ranks of Venom and then the Remnant. If scuttlebutt was to be believed he had taken a squad of three into the heart of an asteroid installation and extracted valuable Intel with zero casualties. In the orbital battle of Corneria, he had single handedly boarded and seized a venomian dreadnaught. There were a dozen such other tales of his exploits, each more fantastical than the next, and these stories might have seemed preposterous and without basis, and so they were, until that cruiser fell from the sky two weeks ago.

Bill glanced over his shoulder to the receding form of the towering soldier, and to his own soldiers as they gazed upon the larger than life warrior in silent awe. The Lieutenant Colonel had not been with the squad he sent to comb the wreckage, but he had seen everything from the helmet feeds. It had been a risk to send them, but he had to know if that ship was from the garrison.

The taskforce in orbit had been decimated minutes after their arrival. Whatever these… things were, their power was undeniable. He had barely been warned of the attack before he lost connection with the fleet.

Ten minutes later and the sky darkened.

An invasion on a scale he had not seen before, not even at the height of the first Lylat War. Thousands of small ships filled the air with an insectoid buzzing, swarms so thick that they choked the light of the sun and the anti-aircraft batteries ran out of ammunition long before the hordes began to thin. Untold devastation was wrought upon the cities in a matter of hours, skyrises collapsed and entire habitation blocks were razed. It was only owed to the sacrifices made by the local fighter squadrons that they had been able to rescue as many civilians as they had. Three-hundred-and-sixty-three pilots died to buy them time.

And Bill vowed to learn their names and never forget them.

The next few days had him witness the fiercest urban battles of his military career. These creatures were unlike any foe he had ever fought. They did not fight like cornerians or even venomians, where either faction used carefully wrought out tactics and cunning strategy, they merely sought to bury them under the weight of numbers. Entire districts had been bogged down by numberless throngs of chittering monsters, and after the first two days, he had been forced to pull out from the cities he had sworn to defend.

He realized that he could not hold such extensive ground with the limited numbers and resources at his disposal. The choice to split his forces had been a hard, but necessary one. The shelters saw the bulk of the planetary army, leaving him with little under a thousand to hold the largest base on the southern continent. Contact with the other installations was limited and unpleasant. One had already fallen and the others would quickly follow. Supply lines were nonexistent and the thought of reinforcements was laughable.

By his tactician's estimates, they had perhaps another three days before they ran out of provisions and soldiers, and it was the devils bid on which would go first, a fatalistic estimate, but an accurate one.

Or so it had been two weeks ago.

That small team had arrived at the crash site, to the scene of a slaughter.

The end tally to the corpses of their enemy had been somewhere numbering close to a thousand, the sort of kill count they might net on a good day if the winds of luck were behind them. Heaping piles of cybernetic creatures sprawled the immediate horizon, entire lakes of gooey luminescent fluids had been formed in the ditches carved by explosions. They had never before seen the enemy bleed so much.

Though frightened, the scouts pressed on to reconnoiter the interior of the wreckage, more corpses were inside, though they were not hostile in origin. Each body was identified and catalogued in the hopes that they could lay them to rest if they ever did emerge victorious.

However their efforts were halted when they arrived at the ship's hanger. Mostly intact, it appeared that there were indeed survivors of the crash, a hundred or so miserable soles, bloodied and battered, but no less alive. When questioned as to how they had survived the crash, and the subsequent attack that had been so thoroughly bested outside the hull, several shaking paws were directed to the center of the hastily erected command center inside the hulk of a carved out battle tank.

That was where they met him.

Lieutenant Noble Six, one who designated himself as a spartan, nothing more, nothing less. Seemingly it was his actions that saved their lives and repelled the attack, undeniably aided as he was by the Special Forces team, much to the scouts' disbelief. The numbers they saw outside would have easily overwhelmed even a unit of howling wolves.

Such disbelief was suspended after the bedraggled survivors and their escorts came under attack once more on their return. A reconnaissance pack of the enemy, numbering a hundred strong, had come upon them, enough to kill most if not all those present.

That was at least, until the spartan stepped forwards.

Bill still had the footage saved on his command terminal.

One-hundred creatures, butchered in five minutes and forty seconds, an assault so quick that the film had to be slowed to accurately be revised, the canine had never before seen such carnage. It had been war perfected. This spartan was the personification of conflict. His skills in battle flowed like poetry and his valor echoed the bravery of medieval heroes. Such a reference seemed quixotic, but Bill could find no other way to portray it.  

It was that very same warrior that he watched return to the barracks, after spending seventy-eight consecutive hours on the frontlines, reaping casualties untold upon the enemy. He alone had halted their advance, his relentless crusade that caused their foe pause. It was Noble Six who led the push to force the enemy back, who had brought hope to a thousand soldiers who once thought themselves dead, and an entire planet that would have surely been lost without his resolve.

Bill did not believe in legends, hadn't since he was a pup. They had been fables to encourage youths to aspire for better heights, to strive for more. Legends told of heroes and demigods that performed feats beyond that of mere mortals. They fought monsters and wrestled gods. And when he grew older, Bill thought that such folktales did not exist in earthly form.

Nevertheless, as he stood surveying the ravaged field of battle, a desolate warzone created by one, he realized that it was a legend he watched walk away.