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Chapter 35: Cross to Bear

Part 1

Fay lingered within the periphery of the procession as they departed from the storage area, her thoughts beset by troubled uncertainty. When they had left The Great Fox she had already tried to brace herself for what she knew would be waiting for her down here. She heard the sensor officer just as Fox had. She was, to an extent, nearly too informed about what had happened to her home.

Even then she had not been ready for planetfall.

Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw when she stepped off the ramp.

Her memories of better days and beautiful landscapes seemed as if they belonged to a world different in its entirety. Gone were the vast plains and leagues of industrious farmland. No longer did jungles of metal towers scrap against the sky. Only ashes and fallen spires lingered in the wake of this catastrophe. She could not in good conscience reconcile her past image with the present, did not want to believe that something so foul and sinister could befall not just any home, but her home.

She did not want to accept that her mother was somewhere down here, or the possibility that she wasn't.

The spaniel glanced past Falco's shoulder, to the weary profile of Noble Six as he struggled to maintain his wounded pride, despite that forcing himself to walk on that damaged leg must have been pure agony, and a physical impossibility. Though everyone else had been distracted by the spartan's injuries and his plight, she had enough presence of mind to skim the medical forms laid out across the doctor's impromptu desk.

And while Krystal was helping him slip into a tight fitting second hand uniform she had… 'acquired' for him from a very confused bear, the canine had perused the extensively detailed notes left by the physician.

She was not sure how the human was even conscious right now, let alone able to move under his own power with any consistent degree of mobility. A colorful gradient of afflictions had been laid before her eyes, shocking in their brutality, broken ribs and sternum, punctured left lung, internal bleeding, at least three dozen consecutive lacerations of varied size and severity, and a kneecap that was shattered into four separate pieces. While most of these had been mended or otherwise cared for, the fact he nearly seemed unaffected by such egregious injuries was what particularly baffled her.

There had also been a lengthy and hurried note scribbled onto the bottom of the last medical form, an incoherent rambling about possible ceramic ossification, increased muscle density, and retinal modification. With such substantial wordage she had almost overlooked the mention of his unusual metabolic rate. And as if only to induce further intrigue, she read another; smaller annotation attached to the paper with a dull orange sticky note, something about a neural imbalance in the subject's frontal lobe, a symptom caused by the introduction of a certain unidentified chemical.

Even in its frenetic brevity, there had to have been at least eight individual paragraphs that went into great detail beyond her limited understanding of biology. Whatever it was, it had the doctor either very excited, or extremely alarmed.

For Fay, she just considered Noble Six a little more peculiar than usual.

Something had changed for him during his time on this planet. He was… distant, even more so than was customary of his personality. Outwardly he gave the impression of trying to sustain a far off conversation. His focus constantly wandered, and if not for Krystal's guiding paw and his roughly corralled position at the center of the formation, Fay was certain he would have wandered off incidentally.

She would attribute this change in character to the trauma of his experiences, but she knew him far too well to be so careless in her observations. There was more to what happened to him here on Katina then was visible to the eye.

That was however, beyond her skills of deduction. Krystal and Miyu were the only ones that could help him right now. His wounds were too fresh, his emotions still too raw, for the canine to offer any meaningful support to him right now.

Besides, she had her own problems to deal with.

The spaniel could only pray that her Mother was still alive, and as much as she wanted to find her, Fay dreaded to learn the truth.

*****

Six struggled to pay attention to the events preceding his return to the Starfox team. In truth he could hardly focus on his surroundings, let alone the people in them. Everything was just so… distorted. With trying to stay standing on his broken knee, and martialing the scattered flurry of his thoughts, the spartan could hardly rely on himself to stick to a straight line. Had he bothered to dwell on this, he would have been humiliated to be seen in such a compromising light, not only at his injuries, but at his deplorable state of dress. The uniform he had been lent was splitting at the seams, and he could feel the draft at his back from the hole cut into the pants. Nevertheless the fight was, for the moment, concluded, and he was once again with the team.

He did not have to deal with this alone.

Krystal stayed by his side during this time of confusion, and he was immensely grateful that she had come back to him, that they were together once again. The vixen's presence banished the hollow feeling in his chest; as much as she proved the guiding light he needed to keep his mind attuned to the present. Concentrating on the warm and soothing sensation of her presence brushing timidly against his consciousness gave him the direction he needed to keep his darker thoughts at bay, reminded him of his resolution. In a moment of rarity her intrusion did not bother him in any volume.

Miyu was there as well in a more physical capacity, the spotted feline persisting in the periphery of his senses to gently nudge him when his body began to stray. Sometimes she would linger at his left side, momentarily helping him bear the burden of his injured leg.

This was enough to make the spartan think, and perhaps he might even have laughed sardonically given any other situation than what was current.

It was a unique feeling to be carried aloft on the support of others. For so long it felt as if he singularly shouldered the weight of the universe and all of its woes. He had never considered there to be any other possibilities. And while it was true that there was a multitude of scenarios and complications that his companions could not possibly be equipped properly to confront, just knowing that there some hings he did not have to endure alone, was blessing enough for him in these troubled times.

Noble Six was not quite so sure he could have survived his latest battle without Starfox. Physically, he might have walked away; perhaps even in better condition than he was now. But mentally? In the scarred scape of his mind?

If not for Krystal pulling him out of his coiling despair, or the supportive and humorous words of Miyu to put his mind away from it all, he was certain he would have fallen into the madness that so patiently haunted the fringe of his volatile personality.

He had always been aware of his mercurial temperament, even so, long before he was pulled from his training on Onyx.

His instructors had seen it, both during field exercises and how he comported himself amongst his fellow initiates, or rather his strict avid avoidance of them. Undoubtedly that was the express reason ONI had taken such keen interest in his development.

Even now he could not reason whether or not his disconnected character was more a hindrance than an asset. It had helped him survive his training, and the years that came afterwards, and it was his greatest advantage on the battlefield. Or so at least it had been. Such a way of thought was not suited for his life anymore, and yet if he did not control himself so severely he feared what he might accomplish if he were to, even temporarily, submit to his aggression, or other ardent emotions.

In such a frame of mind he very nearly abandoned Krystal on Fichina, and almost, on instinctive reaction, killed Miyu during their assault on the asteroid base. His volatility, for all it did to enhance his strength and combat ability, inhibited his elevated cognition. But for even that he could not afford to simply let go, nor would it be possible to simply forgo such a core aspect of his personality as if it were some unappealing piece of apparel. It was as much a part of him as he now considered Krystal and Miyu to be. He would have to learn to refine his bellicosity, hone it as one did a blade, sharp, and yet agile enough to strike appropriately.

The war on Katina had served, if anything, as a conflict to establish clarity. For as little as he knew about the Aparoids, he had learned one thing.

He could not stop them.

For all his skill, for all his immense capability, he was yet but one man, just one spartan.

To defeat them alone was a statistical impossibility.

However he was not alone. There were yet those - who while not the augmented super soldiers of humanity's finest - were just as, if not more staunch in their resolve to abate annihilation. Commander Ivanova, The members of Starfox, Lieutenant Colonel Bill Grey, all were individuals of steadfast fortitude, capable of respectable feats of bravery and ability.

And while they were not human he could see in them the same tenacious spirit that so relentlessly drove humanity to rise in the face of adversity, who would not submit to the whims of destiny, no matter what it railed against them. There was much to be admired about the races of Lylat, for within them they carried the same ideals, hopes, aspirations, and beliefs of mankind at the height of their power.

The spartan only wished once more that fate had been kind, that humanity could have encountered not the zealous wrath of the Covenant, but the concurring hearts and minds belonging to the denizens of Lylat. Would he have lost everything he had attained with Starfox to alter history, it was a price he would have been glad to bear.

For the trillions of lives lost in that war, for the untold misery and despair of an entire civilization, there could be no price too high to accept. He would have borne that without complaint.

But fate had not been kind. The Human Covenant War occurred, and in that conflict he had been displaced to whatever time and location he now found himself. Here there was another war that echoed all the tragedy of the one he had forcibly abandoned. Yet here there were people that he loved, and could not allow to be lost to such repulsive abominations.

There was no heart, no soul within the march of the Aparoids. They were machines, more so than even he, despite whatever biological components existed within their construction. And as machines, they fought with emotionless calculations, those that died in their war of extermination nothing but integers and percentages upon their tables and charts. They warred as he once had so long ago, in the ways of ONI. Such an association he could have sorely done without.

A cold intelligence existed behind their actions. He had witnessed it himself in his last engagement, a guiding force hidden within their seemingly savage and aimless armies. Those creatures he combated were example enough of the drive behind this menace… and the ramifications that were incurred when that control was severed. Through this loss, was in fact the inspiration for victory.

He might not be able to put an end to their armies, break their resolve or shatter their morale.

But their leadership?

That was something he could destroy, and in fact precisely what he had been trained to achieve.

With this new goal offering him the resolve he had found so hard to attain amidst the memories of his recent defeat and the disarrayed wanderings of his tangled thoughts, Noble Six felt reinvigorating strength return to his weary bones and burning muscles. His body may be broken. But his will? That was something no outside force could ever hope to best, not when he had those who reminded him why he would fight and continue to fight regardless of the outcome or the odds.

He had his entire life to atone for the mistakes of his past.

And he did not intend to waste it.

*****

Unlike Fox had hoped, the war on Katina was not entirely concluded as he had first wished. True, with the defeat of their navy and the losses they suffered at the hands of Noble Six, Aparoid forces had withdrawn from cities all across the world, but as they were coming to learn about their new adversary, there would be no negotiations or suing for peace.

Four days had passed since the fleet's arrival, and Katina was not yet liberated.

The cybernetic creatures had retreated and marginalized their crusade, but the campaign of extermination was not over. There were still thousands on the planet. What's more the Aparoids still had leadership, and with it, a guiding aura to maintain the discipline of their remaining armies.

Bill had told him about the walking machine, the towering command and control vehicle that the CDF survivors had failed to take down no matter what desperate assault they had thrown against it.

But that was with a battered and broken army.

The full might of the CNDF had been brought to bear, with Grand Marshall Pepper personally involved in the deployment and activation of relief forces. Even as Fox had spoken with Bill on their arrival, CDF army units had been ferried down to the surface to assist in the hunt for the remaining Aparoids.

It was a fight they were not winning as handedly as they would have liked, especially with Noble Six unable to participate, though Fox knew he would offer, regardless of the severity to his injuries. The vulpine was adamant in his orders for the supersoldier to remain uninvolved, that being one of the few demands he would not relent with in regards to the human warrior. Nevertheless, without the spartan's significant contribution to carry them into victory as he had so many times in the past, they were having great difficulty in securing it.

Fox grimaced and struggled to resist the desire to succumb to his exhaustion as he studied the tactical holo-map arrayed before him. Tired eyes tried, and failed, to focus on the multitudinous icons of troop positions and the bright blue streaks of supply lines linking the holographic interface together in web-like chain.

“Gods…" He muttered under his breath, brushing a paw across the bridge of his muzzle to try and alleviate his fatigue, even temporarily. “This is a disaster."

“Yeah… that sounds about right." Bill's voice wearily concurred from across the table, the canine imitating much a similar poise as that of his friend. The two of them had been pouring over potential strategies for days with little rest or reprieve.

It was not entirely his place to be a part of the oversight for the campaign, but given his unique position and experience, Fox was, depending on one's frame of reference, luckily or unluckily, there to play a role in tactical preparation.

“How can something that big be so damn hard to find?" Fox growled in frustration as he eyed the holo-map with tangible antipathy.

The entire goal of the army was to locate and destroy the Aparoid walker. Six's testimony regarding the resulting effect of the neutralization of Aparoid leadership had come as a desperately needed revelation to the outnumbered and often out maneuvered CDF forces. Though by the will of the gods, the army had not yet encountered any of the stalker variant Aparoid units that Noble Six had combated before his debilitation and provisional suspension from military action.

Fox wanted to believe this was because there were none left, that their specialized and highly lethal nature led credence to their scarcity. The tod hoped they had not found any because there were none left to be found. Miyu had told him about what she had faced, but for a brief terrifying moment, incomprehensible speed and agility, active camouflage, and extreme strength.

Most of these attributes were compatible with his understanding of Noble Six's capabilities.

That thought terrified him.

“Last reports narrowed its position to these three possible locations." Bill voiced after a time of silence, gesturing to the trio of red dots scattered in a loose grouping on the map. “This intelligence is only a few days old, and with the net drawn around the area, chances of it having slipped past are minor."

The canine looked to Fox with careful optimism. “This is the best chance we've ever had to take it out. And with it gone that will hopefully denote the death of Aparoid leadership, and with that, the collapse of all their forces across the planet. "

The vulpine tentatively shared his positivity, after all the plan they had formulated was the culmination of many sleepless nights. “With the coordinated efforts of the fleet and local groundside units we should be able to take it down with minimal casualties."

He did frown however; as he remembered that his core team would be operating severely understrength. Six was for the foreseeable future, off roster, and so were Krystal and Miyu, who he had personally taken off duty. Like Six, but to somewhat of a lesser extent, the lynx had been wounded and it would serve her better to have a reprieve from combat rotation. And it seemed only right for Krystal to follow in that regard.

The three of them needed some time together, if for nothing else but the spartan's mental health alone. Fox had learned that it took an inordinately immense strain to affect Noble Six on an emotional level. And when they had reunited, he had seen what it looked like when he finally did snap.

It really was best for the spartan that he not spend his recovery period alone.

Fox would have been troubled himself to place that many members of his team off operations, but as luck would have it for once, he could actually make up the difference. With Katt back on the team, and an access to personnel from his ship, he could afford leniency, even in these desperate times.

For how long that was possible however…

“When does it start?" The vulpine gestured toward the cluster of green dots and triangles representing infantry companies and armored battalions. It was a huge operation, on a scale that had not been replicated since the end of the last war, several thousand soldiers and more than a hundred tanks, APC's and IFV's. When he looked at such numbers, at their troop strength and armored companies, he could almost feel confident in their chances.

Then Fox remembered the reports, and the battle in orbit, and such thoughts were swiftly dissuaded. He knew they would win this fight, they couldn't lose, not after the groundwork Six put in. But that did not mean it wouldn't hurt.

“Fifteen hours." Bill answered after a weighty pause. “Fifteen hours until this nightmare is over."

Fox nodded along with the canine's hopeful declaration, but could not help but feel that the horror was far from over. While they had been defeated here, that did not mean the Aparoids would not return, or strike at another world. The only silver lining was that they were conscious of the enemy now, and would not be caught unawares so easily a second time.

Wherever they attacked next, for such an assault was all but certain, would prove to be the true test of their forces against this threat, an honest, head-to-head battle that would set the tone for the entire war.

Fox did not know when this would occur. But he did understand how desperately they needed to win it, to show the CDF that they could in fact rise to the occasion. But that was not this day, and the vulpine needed to focus on present events that he could still affect.

Tomorrow Starfox would fly again, and when they did it would be in a conflict that had no foreseeable conclusion. He just hoped it would not have a finite ending.

*****

Against her wishes, Six did not immediately return to the Great Fox. No matter how hard Krystal tried to persuade him to see reason. Despite that she stressed his part in this battle was over, the human supersoldier refused to go back. If not for that he expressed this was to maintain a promise made to Miyu, the vixen might have become genuinely angry at him. Was she frustrated? Undoubtedly. But, as usual, she found herself unable to feel cross with him.

However, that did not prevent her heartache as she was forced to watch the spartan continue to push himself so relentlessly. The new brace around his leg eased the difficulty he had in walking, but she could still see the pain in his eyes as he pressed onwards with such unswerving determination. There was nothing she would not give to see him take even just a few days to rest and recuperate. Nevertheless, such words were not in the human's dictionary.

The anger she felt at Fox had been greatly mitigated now that they had been reunited, and the vulpine had agreed with the spartan's suspension. She did not yet forgive him for his deceptions, but that had been a good way to start.

While the tod and the rest of the team continued to work with the CDF in coordinating the removal of remaining Aparoid forces, she, Miyu, and Noble Six were allowed the use of a shuttle to assist in their search for the lynx's father.

While Krystal would never tell the other female that she considered the odds of her father not only being alive, but still staying at her family home, somewhere in the realm of impossibility. She could not help but think it. Despite her personal reservations however, she did hope that she was wrong.

In any case she was at the least glad for the time it afforded her that she could spend with Six in a non-combat oriented environment.

The vixen tightened her grip on the spartan's arm and looked away from her wandering study of the shuttle's interior, focusing on his pale countenance with a small smile, though she was not visibly concerned, she did indeed worry for him. In the two days after they had been brought together, the human soldier held a reserved disposition. He did not speak often, mostly only to answer any question directed at him. And when in her company, which was nearly uninterrupted, he remained distantly contemplative.

Even in this moment she could see that his attention was direct inwards, perhaps dwelling over his perceived shortcomings as he was so often to do. Noble Six was a male that did not take defeat well. She had known that long before their relationship developed. The concept of personal failure was something that he struggled with incessantly. It hadn't been all that bad before. She could usually pull him out of his brooding with a few kind words or a tender embrace.

But what had happened to him on this planet had cut deeper than any event previous, perhaps overcasting even the blame he felt at the injuries she had sustained on Fichina. And she was not quite sure how to help him this time.

He was no longer caught in his internalized cycle of despondency, but he was not quite yet returned to normal either. At the moment the male was stuck somewhere in-between. Krystal could not help but think that he appeared quite fragile in his current figure. The human supersoldier towered over the common cornerian, and his herculean bulk was still dense with ironbound muscle. And yet nevertheless he seemed… smaller, weaker.

She realized, much to her displeasure, that this was because he had lost his aura of invincibility. He had fought against their newest enemy, and had been cast from his pedestal of supremacy. Yet there was a noble, gallant grace in his defeat. He may have been struck down, but he had fulfilled his duty, and returned his defeat in kind.

No matter the guilt he felt at his rout, she felt nothing but pride in him for his bravery and for all the lives he had saved at the terrible cost of his achievement. He had kept safe Miyu, Bill, and the worn-down remnants of an entire world. If only he was not so blinded by his stoic character to see this.

Finally taking notice of her attention, the spartan's eyes flickered with the faintest trace of awareness as he looked down to her, an uneasy smile offered in reply to the female fox beside him.

However she could see that his focus was not entirely there, his mind still lingering in the past.

Krystal huffed in affectionate irritation as she gently squeezed his arm. “Noble Six, you are hopeless." She declared, chuckling softly in muted mirth. Despite his predilection for dwelling on previous mistakes, there was somewhat of a welcomed familiarity in this, a reminder - if not a pleasant one - of the less complicated days, before the presence of the Aparoids.

In a small way, he had not really changed all that much, despite what he had endured he still carried himself in much the same manner as he always had. She was just glad to see that he was yet uncrushed by his encumbrance of infuriatingly pointless accountability. It was selfish in way, that the spartan felt as if he was the only one to blame for mistakes made.

To err was mortal, and depending on one's religion, so too did the gods make mistakes. Everyone had flaws. That was an inevitability of existence. Fox often tried to save his crew, his friends, from learning truths that would upset them. Fay was quick to judge and quicker to fade away in the presence of confrontation. Slippy did not quite trust others with his work and avoided personal questions like the plague. Miyu suffered for the brashness of her actions, and Falco… well there a lot of things wrong with him.

And as for herself… she was a slave to her emotions. As a cerinian, as the last of her species, she was, like most of her race had been, tied deeply to her feelings. Being empathic she was attuned to not only her own emotions, but those of others as well. She did not like to admit, but she often acted rashly when overcome by a particularly powerful rush of sentimentality.

Truly she was oftentimes embarrassed by this. As a result she had probably rushed into more than a few situations throughout her life and she might have been consumed frequently by her more instinctual whims, but that was just who she was, and it would not change any time soon. For as much as her flaws affected her life, they were also what made her who she was.

Her attunement to emotion had urged her to continue to understand and involve herself with a male who seemed to only show hate in return. Her empathy allowed her to understand the true driving force of Noble Six that he so adamantly insisted was not to be found, as if afraid to consider the ramifications of its existence.

If not for her flaws he might have never fallen in love, never met the mate she had not realized she so desperately needed.

Inversely, it was the spartan's imperfections that made him so special not just to her, but Miyu and the rest of the people who had become his family through shared hardships endured. It was his relentless strive for redemption that had turned him into a symbol that she could not only believe in, but come to love and respect.

And as much as she wished for him to change, she knew, deep down in her heart, that he would probably never stop himself from inheriting needless blame, or allow himself to finally realize that he could not be held accountable for a past beyond his ability to change. And that was okay, because it was just who he was.

All she hoped was that he would at least find peace one day, and that he would permit her to be a part of it.

Unawares as to her internal contemplation, the spartan merely smiled at the inoffensive bite within her words and pressed her closer with a fond arm across her shoulders, showing to her that, though in a small way, he had changed from their initial encounter, what seemed like years ago. And when she worried most about his future, it was moments like this that gave her hope, allowed her to believe that he could become so much more than he had been created to be.

The human may remain standoffish and withdrawn at times, but he was now more receptive to both receiving and offering displays of affection, then he had ever been before.

She earned no verbal response from her pronouncement, but the way he held her close to his chest was all the answer she needed.

*****

There wasn't much left standing of Ildaro. The elevated position offered by the shuttle's cockpit was perfect in showing the devastation that had been wrought upon the city Miyu once called home. Considered small by most metropolitan standards, Ildaro, its buildings toppled and its streets torn apart by old blast craters, appeared in its current state, even smaller than before.

The transport had set down on the outskirts of the desolated suburban town some ten minutes ago, yet the lynx had yet to unbuckle herself from the pilot's seat, stricken motionless as she gazed outwards through the viewport, at a sight that was not entirely unfamiliar.

She looked through a different, younger pair of eyes belonging to a foolhardy feline who had just graduated from school, on her way back to celebrate with her mother and father after an early morning spent retrieving a special kind of flower.

In a way the destruction before her was much the same as that which had befallen the city years ago on another fateful day much the same as the present. The foe was different, and arguably far more dangerous, but this was not the first time the people of Katina had been forced to endure such hardships. Nor, she feared, would it be the last.

Yet somehow this time it was so much harder to bear, a reoccurring nightmare nearly too painful to accept. Her experiences had shaped her personality, taught her to boldly tackle life head on and never leave an opportunity unexploited. It was why she had set her eyes on Noble Six and remained unrepentantly committed to becoming part of his life, despite the strings and difficulties attached to that decision. Of all the males she had ever met, he was the one she found the most interesting, the one most suitable for her peculiar personality and the only one worth offering herself in her entireness to. She had learned of the worrying fragility of existence when she had lost her mother, what had become a tragic lesson in opportunities lost.

She wished every day to take back all the pointless arguments she had wasted upon her mother during her rebellious teenage years. There were few things in this world that she would not have given to even gain one minute of time with her to air words left unsaid. Miyu knew that would never happen, her mother was lost to her, and now… so might her father be as well.

Things had not been quite right between them after Lyra Lynx passed away in the line of duty. There had been a… disconnection, between her and him, one that had not been resolved before she left for the academy. Her father was a male unafraid of his emotions, and he had embraced his sorrow at his mate's death with unashamed conviction. She did respect her father for that, though she just wished he could have taken the time to be a better dad as well.

They had not parted on hostile terms, but she wouldn't have called their final words particularly heartwarming. She was pretty sure that 'see ya later pops', wouldn't have won her any awards for best daughter either. Nevertheless, the lynx avowed that when she found him she would not make that same mistake again.

A large, furless hand rested upon her shoulder, interrupting her melancholic musing, and it was followed by the soothing resonance of a male voice she had come to cherish dearly in recent days, despite the varied complications he entailed.

“Are you alright?"

The unusual, but pleasingly sincere affection and concern in his voice was, to her, one of the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard, reminding her as it was, that no matter what she might find in her search, that she had the best companions she could have ever hoped to accompany her on this excursion.

The feline looked away from the unpalatable landscape outside the viewport, instead taking solace in the welcomingly familiar and enticing features of the spartan's scarred, and yet aristocratic visage. The gritty trials of his past and the unique genetics he had inherited from his parentage made him quite easy on the eyes, if one found heavy scarring and unrelenting stoicism attractive.

Fortunately, she most certainly did.

“Me…?" She asked, feigning her typical nonchalance with some strain. He had seen her in some of her weaker moments, just as she had seen him during his. But she did not want him to see just how much this had gotten to her this time. Right now she was supposed to be the tough one. Six did not show it, at least not in a way most might see, but he was not entirely himself right now. And she figured it was time that someone took the mantle of enduring responsibility he felt so powerfully about maintaining. “You know me… I'm right as rain." She managed to say without revealing too much of the inner conflict roiling within her.

She watched with waning tenacity as the spartan's lips pursed in the slightest shadow of a wry smile, and she knew in that moment that she could never retain a false front to someone so astute in discerning even the minutest intimation.

So rather than continue to attempt to deceive a person who was nigh impossible to mislead, she instead unbuckled herself from her seat and accepted the open armed gesture he held out for her, deciding that for the moment, she would let him be what he was just so damned good at. The lynx flagrantly sank into the spartan's uncharacteristically tender embrace with unapologetic fierceness, resting her muzzle strongly against the comforting solidity of his chest. Solid. Immutable. Adamant. Such descriptors were seamless when used in conjunction with Noble Six. Gravity and light could invert, water could suddenly turn into air and yet no matter how tumultuous the universe came to be, she could always count on Six's reliability as an absolute.

It was a trait of his she was becoming increasingly thankful of as the world seemed to slowly descend into insanity by the day if not the hour. She knew she could always count on him to be there for her, such knowledge was worth more to her than any amount of worldly treasures or mortal gains.

Krystal may have greater claims on his heart, and the lynx would probably never fully come to terms with that, but if she were only ever to have him in this way, as someone to stand at her side when she needed it most, then she would be grateful for even that. For as much as he laid claim to his supposition of detachment. She had never met anyone with such an aptitude and capability for feeling and comprehension of others and their feelings. His passions were strictly controlled, but she had learned he became this way out of necessity, to protect himself from the demands forced upon him by his callous superiors and the unbelievable rigors of his lifelong military career. Experiencing emotions, for the spartan, was a raw and arduous experience, where in which he unleashed the pent up frustrations he had absorbed into himself for years at a time.

Miyu knew deep in her heart that there was no one on this planet or any other that could possibly understand and empathize with suffering as capably as he did, that was to say at least of those who did not benefit from empathic abilities like Krystal. That he was capable of reading others so well without such surreal skills was nothing less than a miracle.

And the feline would admit to acting selfishly in this moment of his compassion, lengthening their embrace for longer than what was perhaps appropriate considering the task asset ahead of them. However, eventually, and with much reluctance, she finally stepped away from him, offering the spartan a grateful, heartfelt smile as she playfully danced her tail across the pliant material of his borrowed uniform.

“Thanks…" She mumbled weakly, unable to say anything else in fear that she might start a tide of impending waterworks or in some other way embarrass herself.

“Of course." The spartan answered, cutting an unsurprisingly stoic figure in that moment as he stood so assured in his hegemony that one might have forgotten how grievously he was injured. Though, if one was observant enough, they could see that his chest pained him greatly, and that breathing still came to him difficultly. “I made a promise to do right by you Miyu. And I have no intent to become a liar."

If she had been incapable of sophisticated word and thought before his newest utterance, she could now be considered apoplectic with embarrassment at his gallant words, whether they had been valorously contrived or not, they sounded no less like the lyrical fashion of a noble knight transposed from a child's fairytale. Though she knew any fable the spartan might have come from would certainly not be suitable for the ears of young children, or even most mild-mannered adults. His origin was from a place cruel and deprived of even the concept of mercy.

Yet if given a choice on whether to believe which to be truth, she would have liked to put her faith in the former, rather than the latter. But the world was not a kind place outside of children's stories. While she may have wished a kindlier beginning for her spartan, that was but more than an inane contrivance that had no bearing on harsh reality.

Miyu would forever be enthralled by this male that had not allowed his past to weigh him down, at least to a point that proved too detrimental. He had not escaped it entirely, but for what he had endured, it was astonishing that he had emerged so wholly, or that he was even receptive to the idea of personal improvement or attachment. The lynx knew that could in most part be contributed to Krystal's and to a smaller extent, her own efforts, for indeed he had not been so entirely composed in his establishing days with Starfox. And she was starting to see a carefully veiled reappearance of that dread personality, much to her despair. There was a great bitterness that lay well-concealed with the spartan's recent kindly manners and unusually forthright actions. As much as he appeared outwardly undeclared, the spartan retained an acerbic resentment, a personal umbrage that was founded within his recent conflict against the Aparoids, and his subsequent injuries.

Even now, as he had confessed his unchanged determination to improve upon himself - something that held no end of delight to her ears – she could hear the slightest tone of introspective disdain, as if he had spoken such words more to reassure himself that he was still, at the least, playacting as the good person so many people thought he was.

Faced with such elusive self-loathing, she found her liking of his resolution to be somewhat tainted, and the feline's once warm smile grew shadowed as she dwelt on the grave concerns fermenting within the spartan's tortured mindset of thinly disguised contempt.

Unlike the search for her father, which she could at least treat properly, she remained wholly uncertain as to how she could help the human through his troubled thoughts. This was more than his usual, and somewhat frustrating, self-deprecation. A new darkness had grown and was now festering inside him, one she was afraid that neither she nor Krystal would be adequately equipped to handle, something that would not turn the spartan against the team, but himself, the one foe in this universe that he could not fight.

“I must ask again if you are feeling well, Miyu." The spartan's voice intruded upon her concerned musing, his expression softening with the barest trace of discernable worry. And for a moment she could almost believe that she had imagined it all, her mind simply feeding off her excess fears at an uncertain future. That her fairly pessimistic brain was merely conjuring such notions rather than accept that there might actually be a pleasant future in store for her.

But such pessimism was not misplaced, and she could see more in his eyes than in his face, that the spartan had still not forgotten how close she had come to death on his watch. There was a distinct air of protectiveness lingering over him as he studied her closely, a desire to keep her safe that bordered on the unfamiliar with how open he made it. She would have enjoyed the attention if not for how much it concerned her.

That she had almost died must have stricken him deeply, even deeper than nearly losing his own life, what she knew already he held little personal worth in. She had noticed recently, since the battle, he had not let her, or Krystal, from his sight for overlong. He always kept within a few paces from either of them, close enough to react to the unexpected, even with the injuries he had sustained. Such possessiveness might have been alarming, had she not known him as personally as she did. In truth she found his increased protective drive somewhat charming. Though she worried he strained himself needlessly.

“Yes, don't worry about me, just a little introspective at the moment. It's still hard to believe that I'm home, well at least with whatever's left of it." She deflected the truth of her worry as she looked to the viewport once more with a sad sigh. Her return to Katina so far had been little more than a series of sharp disappointments and lingering sorrow.

To her side the spartan remained as silent and stoic as ever when his affinity for words failed him. There was nothing he could think in that moment that could possibly alleviate her sadness. He was not equipped for the very human response of offering consolation, at least not adequately enough given the severity of the occasion and his own inwardly positioned disturbances. In his failures he felt as if he had no right to offer comfort. Had he been a better soldier, had he stayed true to his designation as a hyper-lethal vector, he might have been able to do more for this world and its people.

He understood to a degree that his introspective culpability was pointlessly irresponsible and borderline egotistical, but on some fundamental level he could not shake the notion that he could have done more. It was ONI that had taught him to think in such absolutes. Even now he struggled to cast off their psychological chains, after what felt like years of separation from mankind. And his mind flung instances of his actions before the court of his thoughts, to dwell on it in seeming perpetuity.

He had been unable to repel the Aparoids unaided.

Failure….

His negligence had nearly cost Miyu her life.

Failure…

He had allowed so many to die when he might have been able to save them.

Failure…

Noble Six was a failure.

But Spartan Beta-312... was not.

312 was responsible for more than two-thousand confirmed mission kills against the insurrection.

312 had assisted in the orchestration of a government conspiracy that had broken the back of insurrectionist sympathizers and supporters with the suspected terrorist bombing of Cyrus IV.

312 had forced Covenant forces to retreat on multiple battlefields, ensuring the interim survival of at least four colonies.

312… by ONI's calculation, was a critical success.

Noble Six knew him as a monster.

Beta-312 had killed men… women… children, any and all that ONI needed removed to ensure political superiority. He had targeted families of vocal dissidents within the government and silenced countless reformists.

He been part to and accessory in so many senseless deaths and inner office intrigue that when he used to think about it, it had made him physically ill to consider.

Yet the 312th spartan of Beta Company was the better soldier, the better killer. He would have slaughtered through the legions of Aparoids, he would have brought death to their entire civilization with little thought on whom or what was standing in his way. And… he would have let Miyu die.

312 would not have given thought to the ridiculous notion of family.

312 would not have befriended aliens, creatures that from experience had only ever harmed humanity.

312 would not care who died in his campaign, for their lives were ultimately irrelevant to the grand design.

312 would not have fallen in love, such a notion was more a weakness than strength.

With all the impressive capability and tactical sovereignty of that persona, Six would not dare allow it to reemerge, unless when faced with the utmost need, a situation where death was the only other recourse.

For he worried that if it came back…

It would not fade away a second time.

He feared it as one did a loaded gun pressed against their temple. He feared the siren melody of its disturbingly tempting song, afraid that he might succumb to the simplicity of such an existence. Everything was so much clearer when he was unclouded by sentimentality. Receive ones orders, and then simply carry them out, no need for excess interaction or the inanity of pointless morals. He did not need to concern himself with the safety of his fellow soldiers, nor would he allow any attachment to interfere with his objectives. Such detriments had no place on the field of battle.

What, however, he was afraid of the most, was forgetting Krystal and Miyu, and just how important they, and Starfox, had become to him. He was frightened of the prospect that he might one day wake up to discover that he simply did not care for them anymore.

Such a fate would be worse than any death he could devise.

And the spartan avowed, with grim resolve, that he would do anything and everything to prevent this from coming to fruition.

*****

Krystal's fur was warm to the touch, the vixen's paw wrapped tightly around his free hand as they entered the outskirts of the city, following the remnants of Ildaro's main road, the asphalt thoroughfare upheaved by devastation that must have been wrought in the beginning days of the planetary siege. The local star was at the zenith of its rotation around this world, the baking heat an unusual sensation for the spartan who was more accustomed to the autonomous atmosphere inside his Mjolnir.

Having lived most of his life in a temperature insulated environment, the spartan felt moderately uncomfortable underneath the sun's harsh rays, and was fairly concerned that his pale skin would burn sooner than it adapted to the change. But that was, at most, a negligible issue at the moment, the soldier far more focused on the deserted cityscape. The Aparoids may have retreated in order to consolidate their forces, but that did not mean that they did not still have scouting patrols combing through the desolation.

This was currently his greatest worry.

In his condition he could not properly defend either of his companions. With his mobility questionable and his offensive capabilities greatly diminished, all he had left to rely on was his expert marksmanship. For that he had his rifle slung across his shoulders, tied to a makeshift sling. The weapon would be suited for long-distance engagements, as least until its ammunition was expended. There had been no opportunity to rearm and resupply from The Great Fox before their excursion, which did not sit well with him. But Miyu had been eager to set out as soon as possible, assuming smartly that the hunt for her father could very well be a time sensitive task. So in their haste to depart, he had only been able to grab whatever supplies could be spared. Other than his rifle and a few grenades, was the blaster pistol he had been gifted by Miyu, the comparatively small handheld energy weapon resting firmly in the hand unoccupied by Krystal's tentative paw.

Though the vixen's attachment to his person was limiting his combat effectives, considering how she was still averse to straying too far from his side, he deemed it as a necessary, if temporary, accommodation. Furthermore, should hostilities break out, Krystal's closeness would allow him to ensure her safety.

Six would never say this aloud, but if he were to compare the resiliency of the two women, Miyu would be the indisputable contender. This was not a fault on anyone's side, or even a deficiency of character, but simply something formed by circumstance.

The spartan spared a brief moment to shift his wary scrutiny away from the rubble and destruction around them, to examine the feline that strode just ahead.

Only mildly inconvenienced by her injury, the lynx had thrown a CDF breastplate over the armor he had given her, to supplant the piece she had lost during their last battle. Festooned with a small arsenal of weaponry and carrying herself with a grim forbearance, the woman cut a rather intimidating appearance as she trudged onwards, her helmetless visage bearing a dark aspect as she undoubtedly brooded on what they might find in this ghost of a city.

Six did not remember much of the destruction that befell the world he had called home as a child. His memories of his mother were all that he had not forgotten in their entirety, and even then it was a struggle to recall even the smallest of details about her. The closest he had ever come to remembering her completely had been the dinner he had shared with the team so long ago, and that had only offered a glimpse. Personally, the catastrophe that befell his homeworld had not carried any weight over the years, the trauma dissipating under the continuous ordeals he sustained in his career. He had been far too occupied with the war to think much on it. But the man was not so foolish as to think anyone else would react similarly.

As a spartan he underwent intensive conditioning that altered his ideologies and preconceptions in a way that divested him of what could be considered average social etiquette. Yet that had not prevented him from realizing this, nor was he incapable of perceiving when those around him suffered at the hands of psychological torment. If anything he was well-versed in distinguishing the signs in his fellow man.

And considering the strange similarities to humanity shared by the cornerians, and after a time spent studying their radically different biology, if not their racial mentality, he was fairly practiced in the understanding of the cornerian equivalent of the human condition.

All of this extraneous thinking was honestly overcomplicated, making everything far more convoluted then it need be, another of his many philosophical thought experiments that he used to keep his mind constantly occupied. It was a habit he developed years ago to entertain himself in-between deployments. He supposed that, in the end, all his musing could be condensed into a simple, easily understood concept.

Miyu was emotionally torn apart by the events taking place around her. The feline walked through the destroyed remnants of the world, the city, she called home, hoping beyond hope that she might find her father, and that he was still alive to see her.

Six knew he did not, and likely would not, truly understand what it was she currently endured. He, as a spartan more than a human, was inherently unqualified to understand, though he did recognize the disparity separating them in this moment. Where she was horrified by this tragedy, he was filled with a simpler, but no less expressive, sense of impotency. He was a spartan. He had been explicitly created to prevent such a scenario. Never in his life had he encountered an obstacle as bold in its obfuscation as that which the Aparoids presented themselves as. He could fight them, and he was prepared with a plan to secure victory. Yet he had never before felt the lingering foreboding of defeat, never had the thought of failure stung so bitterly.

Victory would be harder than ever to achieve now that he lacked the proper armor and armaments to combat this adversary. He knew not if his Mjolnir could be salvaged, and he feared that even if it could be, by the time it was returned to him it would be too late to matter.

Nevertheless he would fight regardless of the odds. He did not need again assert why he was unwilling to accept defeat. The answer was as apparent as the vixen that walked beside him and the feline that weaved the streets of her broken home.

“I can feel the sorrow haunting this place." Krystal murmured softly as she drew closer to his side, the vixen's troubled stare roving through the piled refuse and scattered debris. Six had grown used to the sight many years before he set foot on Katina, but he doubted Krystal or any of the others were so jaded. However if the war with The Aparoids carried on for as long as he suspected it would, such naivety would not last.

Regardless of that consideration, he allowed his gaze to follow hers, his countenance hardening at the evidence of his failures. Had he been stronger, acted faster, he could have stopped this, or at the very least saved more lives than the pitiable amount he had.

“So many died here. I… I can hardly bear to think about it." She shuddered, and he felt her paw tighten its hold upon him twice over. “Why would the Aparoids do this? What cause could they have to sow so much misery and death? I don't understand."

Six sighed, his exhalation carrying a knowing shame that no manner of change could ever free him from. “Sometimes monsters are only ever as they appear to be… Sometimes there is no reason, least none that you might ever comprehend. Be glad that you cannot."

She was far too kind of heart and noble of soul to ever understand the true depth of depravity that existed in the universe. He knew not why the Aparoids would go to such lengths to destroy a people so starkly divorced from the darkness that plagued most civilizations. But he did know that their justification, whatever it may be, would never be good enough to confuse their cause as just.

“Was Reach like this?" The vixen asked, turning to him with an unreadable expression, her eyes displaying an unwavering tenacity to know what it was he had seen, to hopefully understand further what it was he had dealt with in his past.

The spartan, somewhat unnerved by the steadfast attentiveness of her viridian irises and off put by the suddenness of the personal question, nearly took a misstep on a pile of jagged slag he had been traversing.

Balancing himself carefully and adjusting the knee brace's fasteners, he considered her question, recalling everything he had experienced since he and Miyu had crash landed on this planet weeks ago.

“In a way…" His neutral reply was fostered with the desire of maintaining some degree of ambiguity. That was a time he did not mind remembering, but he was not entirely encouraged with the idea of speaking about it. The situation on Katina did in a way emulate Reach, yet the factions and beliefs of said factions were quite literally alien. Had Reach come under attack from an alien race? Yes. Was that similar to Katina? Yes again. But the similarities stretched only about that far.

And he would ensure that.

“Reach fell. This world shall not. I will not allow it."

He would deny history's replication.

The vixen seemed to become thoughtful then onwards from his response, the female fox appearing to contemplate his words with sincere solemnity if her scrunched muzzle was any amusing indication.

Six was not used to people putting so much belief and weight into his words, or at least with as much fierce conviction as she displayed whenever they talked like this. It was honestly a liberating experience for him. Dwelling on his endless gratitude for her existence was something that would never outlast itself. And he wondered at what he had done to deserve her. With his past he most assuredly did not.

“Can I ask you something else, Six?"

“Of course." He turned to her with a terse smile, noticing that she had once again adopted the expression of deep thought. Such a look he had begun to consider 'cute', if he was using the parlance properly.

“It's something I asked you a long time ago, and now that we are… so well acquainted." The white patches of fur on her snout darkened a light shade of pink. “Well I was hoping you would have an answer."

He silently motioned for her to continue.

She nodded, more to herself than to acknowledge him, perhaps self-consciously in a bid to bolster her confidence. “Do you miss your old team?"

Instinct demanded from him that he deter, or otherwise react negatively to her question. But the spartan forced such an animal reaction away from him as he thought instead of an answer to give her. He had long since passed the point where he would not tell her of things he considered personal. In fact he considered the idea of tell her to be somewhat therapeutic. Compared to an ONI assigned psychiatrist, this was by far the lesser of two evils.

“Sometimes… I do." He admitted. "But not like you miss your family I imagine."

“What do you mean?" She asked, visibly perplexed.

“One could say that I miss their utility, more than I miss them as individuals. I did not know Noble Team half as well as I do Starfox. We were spartans, we functioned effectively as a unit, and there were times when their presence was even companionable. But it rarely if ever expanded further than that. A team of spartans is a different kind of organization. We accept the impending losses long before they happen. Some, like Carter or Jorge, could be less formal about it. But ultimately attachment was loose and subject to variation."

Six paused in the realization that he was probably going off on an unwanted tangent, and made sure to scrutinize the environment. He noticed that Miyu had drawn closer, and appeared to now be listening to their conversation as she guided them deeper into the city, and Krystal showed no outwards sign of being un-invested with his longwinded reply. With no suggestion that she wished him to stop, and appearing even more so that she wanted him to continue, he did.

_“For us, death was an inevitability, not a possibility. We had been taught to separate ourselves from our fellow soldiers to ensure unclouded judgment during operations and prevent a conflict of interest, so to return to the heart of your question and avoid a lengthy and inane explanation, I do miss them, but I do not morn them." _

That was, in a way, a partial truth. He did miss Jorge more than the others, and for more than his 'utility'. Six felt as if there was a lot he could have still learned from the older Spartan-II. And the threat of The Aparoids would be far lighter if he had the support of the giant supersoldier, but that nothing more than a wishful thought.

Nor did he tell her that if he lost Starfox, he would more than mourn the loss.

It would utterly destroy him.

He could not continue as he used to, would rather die than suffer a relapse into his previous state of being. Having undertaken such new and fascinating experiences, he did not think himself capable of returning to such a dreary, desolate routine. His eyes had been opened to the prospect of a genuine future beyond what he had been created for. And the spartan would choose death over blindness.

It was his responsibility to ensure that would not happen.

He looked to Krystal, such thoughts returning his focus to those who had made him care. The cerulean vixen, her smile shifting slightly from complacent to concerned, appeared somewhat apprehensive as she studied him intently. It was clear to him then in that moment, as it had been when she first started to ask him questions, that her inquiry was born of something serious she wished to ask him. And yet while he was perceptive, especially when it concerned her and Miyu, he was not omnipotent. Nevertheless he was not overly concerned. He didn't think there was anything she could ask him that could catch him off-guard.

“What do you think about…" She interrupted herself, the female fox appearing hesitant as a weary sigh slipped past her smile. “What are your thoughts on… parenthood?" She concluded with a slight wince.

Six did not take his next step.

The spartan paused in the middle of the ruined street.

He looked down to his left, his expression unreadable as he met Krystal's eyes with his own. Half a minute passed as he evaluated and reevaluated what she had said, his brain struggling to comprehend the immensity of what she asked from him.

Him… a spartan… a parent to a child?

She asked if he could be a father to a child?

She asked…

Him…

A father?

He could not choose if he was confused, faintly interested, or utterly terrified.

In the end he decided he was all of these things.