Author's Note:

Nakar Gabab Presents

Because Stories Tie Together in Crazy Ways

The Katt and Forrester Cycle: Part II

&

The Wirmisch: Part III

NAME NOT ASSIGNED

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Chapter One

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"Are you willing to give your life for him?"

The tall lizard blinked, unflinching. "Yes sir, I am."

"Follow me."

He led Nix through hall upon hall, until at last not even the guide was totally sure where they were. A door slid open onto a small surgical theatre. Nix gulped, realizing his own demise was, in a way, at hand.

The old steer was hobbled and looked tired. His labcoat was splattered with dried red substance coupled with bile marks and other fluids. He reeked of death and was a hazard to even approach. And worse still were his bloodshot brown eyes, burning alight with the flame of madness. He looked up from the operating table he was working with and beamed.

"So we've located a volunteer, eh?" Higgins asked. The guide trooper nodded sullenly.

"As was requested, Dr. Higgins. One with the capacity to become just as his former lord was. Will he be the same?"

Higgins, ever the only one sure of his own goals, nodded. "Oh yes, beyond a doubt. Now get going."

The door shut with a whoosh and the theatre was dark, bathed only in the dim lighting typical of such an establishment. Apparently this was once an emergency hospital, but the purpose Dr. Duelba Higgins had in mind for it was rather, it could be said, taintworthy. Without a sound Nix approached the table and laid down. It was a somewhat standard padded table that faced several odd devices.

One was large and had a long, cannonlike barrel. The other was more or less a minilith, solid black and featureless. The last thing he noticed with his own eyes was the doddering steer placing a black cloth over his reptilian eyes. He waited, and at long last the memory fluids were injected into his arm. He lost himself entirely...

Which was just as Higgins liked it - alone. He withdrew a beige-labeled file and grinned.

"Subject 5888. A mental, physical, and hopefully spiritual copy of Right Ressler. As expected, I am unwatched, and this will allow me to introduce a very deadly drug into this clone - pride. With his downfall the 'emperor' too will begone and I will, at long last, be able to cease this act."

Higgins put down the paper and pen, sighing. It had been so long since he had begun the facade...

"Did you forget to sign this, Duelba?" Asked a much younger, beardless Andross. He turned, finding himself to be just as young. Ah yes, a flashback.

"What? Sign what? Who's Duelba?"

Andross recoiled in fear. "Are you alright, Duelba?"

He had clutched his forehead. "Ohhhh... yeah. Fine as hell, Andy. Just a little medical test I signed up for once. It had a few short-term memory effects. Temporary too, I'm sure. What's that?"

"It's a petition requesting I cease my bioweapon experiments. Five thousand doctors' signatures. Yours isn't there."

Higgins nodded. "Damn right. I don't want you to stop... of all Corneria, it seems, I'm the only one."

Andross had seen that 'melancholy' become 'lunacy' and it was axiomatic that Higgins was a madman. But in truth, Higgins reasoned, it was Andross that was insane; he was just devilishly clever and a very good actor. Manipulating Andross for power and security was all well and good, but if he could turn all of Venom to their demises, he might be seen as an unbeknownst hero. Of course, it wasn't all black and white, nor right and wrong. Morality was of no meaning to him; if acting mad meant slaying innocents and the naive hideously, so be it. He was of his own right mind (more or less), had been, and forever would be. That is, if he could get out of the Venomian loop before the war ended.

He pointed the barreled machine at Nix's prone form and clicked a button switch. One yellow beam about six centimeters thick lanced out of the barrel and struck his subject's temple, information of old memories flowing into the body. Once it was done he carefully opened a small packet and threw the contents - some sort of powder - onto the minilith device. It began to vibrate and started giving off a stored concentration of radiation which Higgins had carefully measured beforehand. Once it had stopped the lizard rose, pulling off the blindfold. He examined his new paws, felt his old power in this younger form.

"You've done it, Dr. Higgins! Death is not unconquerable to Endriss Ressler! No one now can end me, for I see now that I can live nigh eternally. Thank you for following my holowill's request."

Higgins placed his paws in his coat pockets, grinning horn to horn.

"But of course, Endriss. All is the way you left it, and as you no doubt guessed Andross did not blame you for your own death. Instead he has dispatched Progeny to find and kill this fellow, your killer."

Ressler smiled. Holt was as good as dead. "You will be rewarded for this, Higgins. I do not know how to inform you, but future generations will praise your name regardless of which side their fathers supported. Yes, Fox and his brethren will be forgotten footnotes, this war obscure trivia. But you and I will stand bright and noticed, our thoughts escaping our mortality and living forever and ever. I possess more power than you expect, and soon, very soon, it will be put to the test."

---

Holt sat up late at night, his mind restless and suddenly disrupted.

'I feel a presence that should not exist... can the dead walk again? Anything is possible, given the circumstances, but can the sculptor mold himself? Is that right? Is that a good idea? Why the hell do I care anyway?'

He sat quietly in the easychair and his nose twitched suddenly. Holt grinned and waited, for the moment would come soon.

A blade flashed. In seconds Holt's senses and reflexes coordinated him enough to grab the wrists of the would-be assassin in time to prevent the long bladed knife from killing him. He shifted his weight into his arms and harmlessly flicked the hapless agent over his position. She rolled along the floor and came to a stop, standing woozily. Holt's eyes brightened.

"Progeny?"

She nodded. "Yeah, what? We haven't met, punk."

Holt was confused, as he could not find the memory in her mind. "But we have! A good long while ago, on Venom... at Lord Archibald's manor?"

"I was never there," she denied, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Holt began to reach out, still sitting in his seat. He probed her mind. At long last his answer came, not the answer he wanted, but an answer nonetheless. It came as a single word.

"Chemicals."

She swooned, as though the word opened some old wound. "The hell... what are you talking about?"

Holt dug deeper, saying nothing but trying his best to unravel the memory potion's effects on her mind. He had learned one thing about memory potions and other effects - brain messes, mind scramblers, and other such implements - and that was that they were not real physical effects. Oh sure, they claimed they affected memory, and proof was there in spades. Brain mess victims saw old memories distorted in perverse ways, and an inside source (it wasn't hard for Holt to guess which) claimed only the diabolical mind of Dr. Duelba Higgins could have invented such a tool. He couldn't argue, but he could argue that they were flawed. They always wore off, because of the way memory worked. Memory, long term memory, was the one thing scientists could not pin down and attribute to a specific part of the brain. An old friend had been a victim in a terrorist attack once, and Holt came to visit. The tabby had visible brain damage and his Corpus Callosum (which joins the two hemsipheres of the brain) had been taken out, but he could still recall vivid memories of their old times together. Indeed, brain messes could only prick the surface of memory, merely altering visions instead of erasing them completely. And Holt discovered that it wasn't really erasure when a memory potion was used. Rather, the potion's chemicals bonded to certain packing sites and recalling lobes for memory, which simply prevented the memories from being extracted. Holt alone had considered the possibility that long term memory was not a tangible asset, and Holt realized how to foil each and every mind distorting tactic in existance. Brain mess? Easy. If it didn't wear off normally he'd just blast the victim with a psionic wave that shocked the memories back to the way they were. How about memory potions? It was a 'simple' matter of disbonding the chemicals by rearranging their receptor sites. It was a procedure science would probably never understand, but then his condition was one that science would almost forever deny.

Progeny's head swelled as the chemicals began to give off mild lactic acids and within seconds things began to creep back into her conscious.

'My name is Natasha Edison... Natasha... Edison.'

Holt sighed and kept working. She rose, this time speaking her memories aloud as they came back to her.

"I'm Natasha Edison, the daughter of Cornerian Governor of Zoness Phillip Edison and Erin Edison. When Andross attacked the planet my parents were executed, but I was spared for my physical strength. They began a process... taking me to some bobcat who worked for a Dr. Higgins... his name was Jesus Hosanna, and he was a neurologist of sorts. He'd come up with a machine that extracts memories and then he had offered a procedure he called the 'Hosanna Effect'. They gave me a strong memory potion after sucking out my old memories and started training me to be a spy. Once they'd finished, they sent me out. After each mission I was strapped back into that accursed chair, had my memories copied, then I was brainwashed again. It's horrible... now I see some of the things I did. They're things I don't even want to talk about, but I feel like I need to. Geez, this is so weird. What's going on? Where am I?"

She blinked and looked around, her eyes focusing on Holt.

"You're the guy from Archibald's manor! Holt Wilkinson, right?"

He nodded, smiling. "Nice to meet you."

She frowned. "They asked me to tail you a month later later. I sniffed out your general area and Ressler's men got to you I think. I was told you'd been killed. What's going on?"

Holt scowled. "You were being used, Natasha. That's a lovely name, by the way. They're using you as a tool, not a person. I bet not even Venom's public knows about it. And you know what?"

She hobbled over. "What?"

The door exploded and burst off its hinges. Immediately Holt dove and tackled Natasha.

It was a prudent move, for at that moment five troopers burst in. At first Holt thought they were from Venom.

'Shit!'

He studied them a bit more closely as they began to open fire in his beloved den. Each one wore a visorlike pair of sunglasses and they were dressed in a manner quite similar to that of the Cornerian Navy. Indeed, it seemed that their only distinct markings were the large silver CR on each one's lapel. Holt was shocked.

'Double shit!'

The troopers gritted their teeth and advanced towards him. Holt waved Natasha, still dizzy, towards the bedroom.

"Get the handgun from my desk!"

She dashed off, rolling to dodge a laser as though she had eyes in back of her head. Holt unclipped the laser sword he always carried at his belt and leapt up as it flicked on. The soldiers laughed.

"Damn! Sword boy over here thinks he can take five guys with guns. Kill him!"

They opened fire at once, thousands of phaser shots arcing across the room. For Holt time moved at a crawl, the lasers moving ever closer at erratic rates but still not a problem. He flicked his wrists left, and a single shot was absorbed by the blade, which hummed and grew a bit stronger. He repeated the process for what seemed like hours, but in truth was a mere 15 seconds. At last the troops ran out of ammunition and began to reload. Holt played his card.

Leaping forwards, Holt arced his blade down, slicing a tall female tortoise in half. She screamed briefly before her larynx was rendered useless scrap and her shell burst open. The other troops stopped what they were doing. Two more were paralyzed with fear, but two others backed up, still reloading.

Holt swung wide and decapitated both of the hesitants - a spaniel and a lynx - quite cleanly. He then mockingly willed the heads to fly around the room. Although it was not seen through the dark shades, both of the remaining troopers were sickened and their eyes were as wide as dinner platters. They immediately dropped their guns. Holt smiled as he realized that it was not for him, but for Natasha, who had reentered with pistol readied. Neither really wanted to be shot, although it was probably better than getting cut up by Holt. The tall male ermine approached them and nodded, pointing down.

"Knees, now!"

The two CR troopers dropped to their knees on cue and their heads were bowed in worried fear. Holt lifted their chins and ripped off the shades of both.

They were a pair that were difficult to hate. The bulkier male was a wolf with deep green eyes that conveyed a sense of fear on first glance, but Holt could read him quite admirably and knew he was only trying to plan his own escape, even if it meant screwing his partner's chances. Holt growled and plunged the saber into the wolf's stomach. Grunting, he slid forward on it, his blood tainting Holt's left paw and wrist with dark red blood. He cursed, kicking the carcass away.

"Damnit, and me with my winter fur!"

Natasha giggled as she looked over her own snow white fur. "You just lost four thousand creds on your pelt."

He nodded, then turned to the last CR trooper. She was a short female rat, and appeared genuinely pitiable. Holt did not care about how sad, afraid or sorry she was, but rather about the attitude she seemed to have; she was quite familiar. For Holt realized that she was the sort of person who joined the Colonel's Racket for the sole purpose of helping another through poverty.

"You," he said to her, "what's your name?"

"Ulysses Escobar... sir." She said meekly. Holt cocked an eyebrow.

"Ulysses?"

She nodded, gulping. "I know that's an odd name for a girl, but my father was a drunk. I'm a mother, sir, and my child is living with his father on Macbeth. They're pitifully poor Venomian factory workers and I joined the Racket to make them money. Please don't kill me, I want to see my son again!"

Holt nodded, switching off his sword.

"Fine. Listen to me or you'll die for it. I won't kill you, but someone else certainly will. I'll ask you some questions after this warning. Alright, what were you doing here, the five of you?"

She looked up. "Our orders were to find an ex-employee named Harrison Wilkinson. He left but wasn't memory wiped before he quit. The Colonel just wanted us to get him alive if possible, but if we had to kill him we'd do it. Colonel Harland is really peeved, sir. He's smoking six cigars a day."

Holt was piqued. "I thought he smoked eighteen."

"He does... I meant six more than what he usually does."

Holt smiled. "And how did he find me?"

She gulped. "That's something you'll have to ask him, sir. I don't know why."

He frowned. "Fine. Listen to me, Ms. Escobar... go buy a memory potion and down the whole thing; get one for as long as you were in Harland's service. They'll ignore you if you don't know anything, and they have ways to be sure you do or don't. Go home and get an honest job, take care of your kid, and for the sake of the gods, if you're not married to the father get hitched. I don't want anything more out of you. Got that?"

She wavered. "Yes... sir." She said. Holt leaned closer.

"What was that? I couldn't quite hear you."

She rose again and shook her head. "Yes sir!"

Then she turned and darted out of the busted door. Holt began surveying the wreckage.

"Gods damn it! They destroyed almost everything of value, and worse it's common knowledge where I live."

Natasha approached him then. "Uh, actually I think I can recall now that everyone knew you bought this property. Just because a house isn't on top doesn't mean people won't look underneath. At least, the smart ones will."

Holt nodded. "You do know whose troops those were?"

She giggled. "Duh! Colonel's Racket, run by Gardiner Harland for over 50 years, give or take. Supplier of just about anything - you name it, they got it. Never been blackmailed because as far as anyone knows he has a pretty basic past - he's a plant for the sake of the gods! Probably also because his organization is so secret that even though everyone knows it exitsts, they hope it doesn't. Yeah, I know it."

Holt slammed his fist against a picture frame that was intact following the breakin. It shattered. 'Hell, what's more damage? I can't just file suit...'

"Damnit! I can't let the CR wipe me now! I'd get killed in seconds, I'd forget about all my trials and abilities! My training would be worth jack shit. I have to sneak out of this."

'Progeny' thought for a moment. "Could you bargain?"

Holt looked at the fellow ermine, puzzled. "Bargain?"

She affirmed it. "Yeah, like offer him a bribe to leave you with your memories?"

Holt laughed fearfully. "Yeah right! What do I have to give him? Everything I own is in this place and my den's been shot to hell. Whaddo I do, say I won't tell? Harland is not an idiot, he may be obsessive-compulsive, but he's not crazy like Andross or politcal like Harrels and Pepper. He's like... like a plant running a big secret arms dealership. I haven't got anything he'd be interested in."

She smirked. "I think you do. Ever heard of Parapalapis?"

He nodded. "Uh, yeah. I stole it once. I still have it in its briefcase somewhere."

Natasha rubbed her paws. "Great! You can offer it to Harland. I happen to know he still doesn't have it."

Holt sighed, then his curiosity kicked in. "By the way... do you know what Parapalapis IS, exactly?"

She looked at him in genuine surprise. "You actually stole it without a clue what it DOES? You must be an idiot. Did you ever load it?" Holt shook his head. "Well duh, genius! Parapalapis is a code name for a circular trigonometric missle and ship guidance program. What it does is calculate the angles of missle trajectory then uses statistical calculus to determine when and where a missle hits a target or how many revolutions a ship should make around a planet before it launches for its next destination. Your uncle was the creator of the thing, I'd have thought you'd look at it in memory of him."

Holt shrugged. "Never sounded all that interesting to me. So I offer it to him in exchange for my memories?"

Natasha agreed. "Nothing else to lose. Call him!"

Holt glared at her. "Call him!? What do I do, call directory and say 'get me Gardiner Harland, ma'am.'?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Don't act like I don't know about your powers, Holt. I got briefed on them, but I must've doubted them too much. You can just find the creep's personal phone and tap into it."

Holt began thinking, adding, "I never thought I'd actually be probing time and space for a telephone."

Colonel Harland's phone began ringing. He pressed a button and held the reciever up to his stem.

"What!"

"Colonel Harland?" Holt asked over his own phone, which had since connected.

"Who the hell is this?" Harland said with angry flair.

"This is the employee you're looking for, sir, Harrison Wilkinson."

Harland smiled. "Yeah. Just c'mon back and we'll wipe the CR days away and you can go on with your life."

"No sir, I need those memories, sir."

Harland scoffed. "No!? Goddamn it that wasn't an offer, that was an ORDER! Get the hell back here!"

"Sir, I'm prepared to offer you a deal in exchange for my memories."

Harland was intrigued. "Yeah, OK, fine. Be quick about it."

"I promise, first, never to tell anybody I was ever involved with you. If they ask I'll just shrug and say nobody knows if you exist. And... I will give you Parapalapis."

Harland's voice seemed desperate. "Yes! Goddamn yes! Fine, you can keep your memories. But if your ermine ass blabs a word you're dead, no memory, I'll have your intestines wiped! On my carpet! Where can I get Parapalapis?"

"You know where I live." Holt said. "Send one guy, unarmed, and I promise to fork it over. Then you'll just pretend I never existed."

Harland grinned. "Alright Harrison. You've got it. I'll do that, but you sure as hell better have the program! Harland out!"

The plant slammed down the receiver and lit another cigarette. Back on Corneria, Holt cheered, hugging Natasha.

"Thank you, Natasha. I think, for once, I actually owe Venom something."

She shook her head. "No, I owe you something - you got me away from them. I don't want to go back, Holt," she was pleading, "don't let them take me back!"

He nodded, holding her quivering shoulders. "Yeah. I swear I'll never ever let them take you back as long as I live. That's a promise from a Wirmisch, and I may be the only one of my kind you can trust."

Chapter Two

"Anarchy, anarchy! Show me a greater evil!

This is why cities tumble and the great houses rain down,

This is what scatters armies!"

-Sophocles' Antigone

Ressler was fearsome and awe-inspiring the way he was. The body of Nix had not been ill chosen - now the Right was a true terror to behold. His eyes burned forever with the passion of a man who had seen death and was now standing before all creation, laughing madly. He paced, glaring at the line of creatures nearby.

They were bounty hunters - ragged, well armed and, for the most part, corrupt. Rivals normally, and rivals still, Ressler knew they would make his job both easier and more entertaining. He began.

"Your target is an ermine by the name of Harrison Wilkinson. He lives in a den on the Sea of Chatrah on Corneria, but the chances of him still being there are slim. I do not care what you do or how far you track him, but I must have him brought to me. Be wary - he is tricky, and even if you disarm him he will still have ways to foil you. Only by keeping him unconscious do you stand a chance of returning him to me. And one of you WILL return him. The one that does will recieve the equivalent of five million credit dollars in stocks which can be traded for a lump sum quite easily. The others will be killed... think of it as job security for the winner."

The hunters, all of various races and types, cast shifty, paranoid glances at their brethren. Ressler smiled.

"With him is another ermine, Venom's Agent Progeny. She may be a hostage; if so liberate her and take her back to me. If she is working with Wilkinson, she is an acceptable loss and can be killed. Now begone all of you! I want nothing more until the ermine is with you."

They all began to file out of the room, eager to jump on the case. All but one. That one was Cni.

Cni was the greatest bounty hunter in Lylat - so said those who knew his victims. For Cni never boasted of his own achievements, letting his deeds speak louder than his words. And it had payed off - he was at the very least a billionaire. It was uncertain what his species or gender really was, for he had long donned the garb of a jellyfish. His suit was bulbous and pulsed with clear life, making him almost transparent, and his helmet was a mass of tentacles. From this suit he had received his nickname; no one knew his actual name. He approached Ressler carefully.

"Right Ressler." He said in a cort, deep voice. "I have some questions for you."

Ressler nodded. "The others left so quickly... I'd have answered any and all questions."

Cni would've grinned if he could've. "I know what you are. I know you can tell me where Wilkinson is at this very moment. Am I correct?"

Ressler nodded. "Indeed I can."

Cni asked his question. "Where is he then?"

The lizard paused, concentrating. "On his way to Katina, to a small town called Cavanaugh. Our troops are subjugating it as we speak and he has no doubt gone there to protect the citizens. You will find him there. Best of luck, Cni."

Cni said nothing, but plodded off soundlessly. Ressler stroked his chin and chuckled.

"Ah yes, the best are always ready to admit when they're clueless."

---

The people of Cavanaugh huddled in fear. It had been a mere few hours since tha Venomian troops had landed outside their town. Although Katina itself was considered Corneria's holding, the actual possession of towns on the planet fluctuated based on who really cared or did not care. And quite frankly, nobody cared. Someone must've cared enough to want to kill, because that was indeed what the Venomian troops were planning - later.

First though, they had taken over the square. Each of the soldiers bore sandy brown armor with helmets, signals of the Shifting Sands Battalion, the feared elite of Venom Army General, Lawrence Fenders, who had recently acquired the nickname "Lawrence of Titania" for his actions on that planet. He was a fearworthy fox, and his troops were even worse, taking all that their leader held dear and magnifying it to ludicrous levels. So faithfully did they serve General Fenders that his orders would probably be followed quite literally. For, unless Lawrence was quite twisted, they were doing something inconcievable.

The troopers broke down the doors of a larger adobe home belonging to Cavanaugh's mayor. Dragging the old wolf from his security, they prodded him and he was quickly noticed to be carrying a long wooden crosspiece over his shoulders. The ropes that attached the piece to his arms cut deeply and no doubt that was what caused the old man to stumble twice, but the soldiers continued to prod him along with their bayonets and he eventually reached the square, exhausted.

The stranger, in a hood and robe to protect himself from the desert sands that swept the south Katinan plains, stepped into the light of the doorframe. A frightened vole mother, clutching her child, tugged at his sleeve.

"You can't go out there, sir! They'll kill all of us. You should never have come here..."

A tall, decorated troop officer in Shifting Sands armor laughed and waved to his men to begin. They laid the wolf down and began measuring the lengths of his arms. They then carefully placed two stakes between certain bones in his wrist. Hammering carefully, they punctured a small hole between the bones, which quickly locked into place around the metal object. They then placed the whole crosspiece on top of a six foot tall wooden pole. Groaning, the old man was raised up until his cross stood high over the noonday sun, casting not a single shadow. The officer cackled.

"People of Cavanaugh! I have received my orders to destroy this town and everyone in it unless you have the foresight to reject Corneria's lies and join with Venom. It is obvious that we will win this war, and as such I see no reason why you should resist. You can save your poor mayor! If you see the truth he will not suffer. We will treat what few wounds we have inflicted and all will be well. What do you say to that? Come now, don't be afraid. You have until your mayor dies or you choose to join to decide."

The people slowly began to file out, cursing Venom and raising their fists in anger.

"We'll never sign up with that madman!" One shouted. Another nodded, cheering.

"Corneria forever! We'll never turn on our homes!"

The officer quelled the rebellion by firing his pistol into the crowd. A poor young orphan girl, an aardvark, was hit in the chest and toppled over instantly. People gasped and several kind women began cradling her crumpled body.

"That will be the first of many then!" The officer cried. "The first of an uncountable death toll for your insolence. You're all fools, and the price you pay will not weigh on us!"

"That's because you've no conscience to make it matter!" Came a loud, angry voice from the back of the masses. The officer cocked his head and stared.

The figure was tall enough, but hardly intimidating, for he or she was average in every sense of the word. His or her brown robe swayed in the winds and the hood the creature wore shrouded their face. All the Shifting Sands troopers could see was the creature's paws, which were an eerie white and tinged in red as though bloodied from only a day or so before. Some of the troopers cowered in their combat suits, but in all they were unfazed, their zealousy winning out over the notion that this outspoken person could do anything to them.

"Cocky little punk, aren't ya!" A trooper jeered before his officer silenced him with a wave of his paw.

"None of this, private. Let him come forwards."

"But first," the creature cried, "let the innocents be free!"

With that a sound like a great peal of thunder erupted through Cavanaugh. The crucifix to which the old wolf was attached snapped in two and fell into the crowd, where the young workers of Cavanaugh began removing his paws from their staked state. Paralyzed and confused, the troopers watched with dull awe as the hooded figure approached them. As if on cue, the robed figure spoke again.

"If we wish to converse we must see eye to eye. Give me your name and face, soldier!"

The soldier removed his helmet, revealing a tall grayish dog of no particular breed. His headfur lopped a bit but was still somewhat short, and his hazel eyes flicked mercilessly in the sun. The man knew who he was, but the people needed to be told, for they thought what they saw was unreal.

"It's Commander Grey!" One yelled out. The mysterious avenger shook his hooded head and called out.

"He is not Commander William Grey, your great hero! I am a Wirmisch, dear people, and I can tell you that this is not; I feel it in his mind. This is Major Phillip Dobbins, who is rumored to be a distant cousin, but his uncanny likeness is a mere coincidence! Indeed had you refused too far he may have tried to swindle you with lies. But do not trust your eyes! There is much, my friends, that eyes will not show you."

With that the ermine threw his hood back, revealing a determined and gritty face with steely blue eyes that were almost like ice in a frosty pond with the white fur around them. He stared the major down, the swelling anger being almost masked by the comical child's game that was taking place. At last Dobbins diverted his eyes and the Wirmisch laughed.

"Holt Wilkinson is my name, Major Dobbins. And I do not take lightly the crucifixion of innocent geriatrics. You will never survive this day unless you withdraw."

Major Dobbins smirked and snapped his fingers. A trooper that was hiding behind a short wall leapt up, pistol levied at Holt's head. A single shot rang out, and the trooper dropped dead. There, behind Dobbins in an alleyway, was another figure, one with an open cloak concealing her face but revealing a dark black jumpsuit underneath. She clutched a pistol of her own in her paws and it was still smoking as she rose, gun at the ready. Dobbins glared at his foe, knowing that though he had been foiled once, the day was still obviously his. At least, he thought it was.

Holt stooped over and picked up a stone. Without a word he tossed it into the mass of soldiers under Dobbins' command, who opened fire, some on the rock, some in the direction of Holt, and others into the air. Lasers lanced about and townsfolk dropped to their bellies to stay away. Many Shifting Sands troopers fell dead of collateral fire before Holt let forth his cry. He leapt atop a makeshift stage, shoving Dobbins off, and flicked out a laser sword which zoomed out from the hilt and glazed in the midmorning sun. Holt screamed, pointing to the troops.

"Rise up, Cavanaugh, and drive these intruders away! Rise!"

The people needed no more prodding and instantly formed an angry mob that rushed towards the intruders. Dobbins, though, was left to Holt. He stood watching as his troops scattered, a few sensible enough to begin shooting, but most being trampled and apprehended or torn to shreds. The mutt's jaw dropped as he surveyed the chaos. Holt tossed him his helmet and grinned.

"There is no capturing Cavanaugh, Phillip. Return to Venom, do not go to General Fenders, and tell Ressler himself that you failed only because Holt was there. You will not be executed and your rank will be unchallenged. But I cannot keep this mob from you for long. Run, and don't wait for your troops - they are lost. Go!"

Dobbins slammed his helmet down and began a dash down the southern street for the military transport that he had come in. Within two minutes it lifted off and was already far from the village by the time the citizens began crowding around Holt.

"Thank you sir!" screamed one teenage girl.

"He has come to save us! The Gods have made this man for our protection!" Exclaimed a young man in miner's garb. None of the citizens seemed too well educated, but they were indeed grateful and moral people. At last a young girl, a wolfess no older than eight, pushed her way to Holt.

"Sir, my granpa needs help. The soldiers almost killed him and he's about to die. Please try to help him."

Holt extended his paw and let the child lead him to where the old wolf had been laid out. His wrists were bandaged, yet Holt knew what was wrong with the man. He muttered angrily.

"The fall has shattered his ribs. He's bleeding profusely internally..."

An older wolf, a man of thirty or so, pleaded.

"Save my father, sir. Please help him!"

Holt nodded and extended his paw, closing his eyes. He touched the man's chest and began willing the healing to take place. Slower than with his own body, but still quite rapidly, Holt began to feel the blood receding, the organs sealing back up and the bones arching correctly over the wolf's chest. His breathing slowly became less erratic and Holt then touched the mayor's wrists, sighing. He rose quietly as the wolf's eyes closed.

"He is not dead, but must sleep. You can remove the bandages; when he wakes up he'll feel better than he ever has before."

The wolf family began to cry. "Thank you sir." the old wolf muttered, eyes creaking open. "Please, if it would be of use to you, sir, you are a man of great power and judgment. There is a hanlian terrier who lives in a hut outside our town. She is quite old and goes by Delphi - her real name was lost long ago. It is said she is a prophetess whose predictions can never fail. We didn't believe a word of her predictions even when they came true, but now that our eyes have been opened and we have seen your works, perhaps she is speaking true. You no doubt would want to meet her, sir. We would be glad to show you."

Holt nodded. "Thank you, good sir. I'll visit this Delphi tomorrow morning. But for now, let us rejoice for the rest of the afternoon. Cavanaugh is still free!!!"

The people burst into excited cheers and began to again throng the streets, this time in celebration. Natasha walked up to Holt, who though still mobbed was no longer the full focus of attention.

"They think quite highly of you." She said, surprised. Holt smiled, patting the wolf girl on the headfur.

"I did what I knew I had to do. And now I see why I had to do it. This Delphi's predictions always come true, eh? It'd be to our merit then to meet her. C'mon, Natasha, I'd like to take you out tonight."

She looked around, chuckling. "Not a lotta places in Cavanaugh to do that, is there?"

He glanced about. "There's a party in our honor going on right now. Aww, you can dance cancha?"

She took his offered paw and went with him to the square. A young serval child had dragged out his Musicnet player and was cranking the volume up quite loudly. Holt grinned and Natasha began showing him the best ways to dance. In her experience, at least.

"This is great!" She said hours later, when she and Holt sat, sweating after hours of dancing and festivities. The sun was beginning to set and Holt knew it was almost time to call it a night.

"We've got two rooms in town, Natasha, you can have whichever you'd like. I've gotta stay up though, plan for tomorrow..."

Natasha cocked an eyebrow. "Plan for what?"

Holt grinned. "I've a cunning plan that will involve a trio - you, me, and another I don't think I could ever leave out of such a plot. We're gonna fufill my destiny tomorrow, and I'm pretty sure I know what that destiny is already."

---

Dust swirled around the hut as the sun peeked over the Katinan foothills. Holt alone had gone to see Delphi - his whole entourage, including Natasha, had turned away when they saw the small house on the horizon. Some would've rather not known their fates.

The door was creaked open and as Holt approached a crackly, haggard voice called out.

"Ahhhh, Wirmisch Wilkinson! Do come in; it's been forever since a real power came to visit."

He shoved the door open nervously. Inside, sitting on a stool opposite a bed and a small table where days-old food was stacked, was a timid, glasses-wearing old crone of a hanlian terrier. She wore robes of purplish blue and stared Holt down with eyes that were chilling to the bone; for they were perfectly white except for the pupils. Holt backed away nervously, but Delphi grinned wider with crooked teeth and sighed.

"It's all in how you see it, Mr. Wilkinson. You came expecting this, and this is what you got. Close the door."

He did so, and her voice floated back.

"Expect something. No matter how outrageous, expect it, and you will see the truth as it exists."

Holt reopened the door. There, on the stool, was the most gorgeous terrier he had ever seen. She was tall and her fur was creamy and combed smoothly. Her eyes were just as white, but somehow seemed less frightening than before. Her robes were of the same type, but he could see that her legs were crossed in a sexy fashion and her thinner, longer arms were folded over her suddenly supple chest. Holt's eyes bugged out and Delphi grinned, speaking in a sweet and soothing voice.

"I rather like your portrayal of me, Wirmisch. But it makes no difference, does it? You'll stare at my chest longer than you'll listen to my words, so I'll tell you what you came here to learn and you can be off."

"One question," Holt said honestly, his eyes diverted to her face for a few precious seconds. "Actually, two. First, how'd you do that?"

She shrugged. "Science cannot explain everything, Wirmisch Wilkinson. Look at yourself, eh? And the other question?"

He shook his head. "After my destiny."

She nodded and complied, swaying hippishly and appearing in tune with the very essence of time, her thoughts flying outwards like a net into the ether, searching for any obscure scrap of identity that would show what Holt was destined for. At last, eyes closed, she proclaimed:

"A sculptor you are,

the clay is your medium

and man, we know, came from clay

the destiny of many lies in your paws.

But most of all the sounding of evil,

crumbling to the dust.

This will be your clarion call;

none shall deny your plots will succeed

As another dodges destiny,

so will you return him to the path that is determined

But for you too will come suffering

And the sculptor will be thrown from the village for his statues

And to an age golden and silver your years will attain

but a heaviness weighed on your heart

for though the new institution you will arraign;

in the end it will tear you apart."

She opened her eyes and stared at him with emotionless blanks. Holt nodded, his photographic memory recalling every instant of the ritual and each and every word Delphi had said.

"Is that all?" Holt posed. Delphi took several deep breaths.

"That is all there is. Ask me once more and the same things will I say. Ask me tomorrow and that which has already come to pass will be omitted, but the other message will remain the same, until your own death draws the last remaining verse to an end. I bid you the best of... ah wait! Your last question!"

Holt affirmed. "Yes. Who was the last person to see you for a telling of their destiny before I came?"

She smiled. "You know him as Andross. Then he was simply a banished Dr. Olkonnoy on his way into exile. Believe me, what he hears will still ring as proof of his victory, but he will not think enough to see the finality of the prediction. Good luck, Wirmisch Wilkinson. May your gifts be not quite as horrible as my own."

"Horrible?" Holt said, shocked. "What's horrible about seeing other people's futures?"

"What is horrible is knowing the truth in full, easy terms but being forced to offer vague riddles. Many misinterpreted those messages and now they have been crushed by the truth. Let it not be with you, Wilkinson. I pray you understand the full extent of symbolism I spoke to you."

Holt agreed sadly. "Aye, I know my own fates quite well. For in truth I see them too, if not as clearly. I know what you're saying, Delphi, and it pains me to believe it yet I must. Goodbye, dear lady, and may your own years be great."

She said not a word as he turned around and left, plodding out. After a few minutes he turned to see if she was standing at the door of her hut.

But he saw nothing at all. Just the foothills in the distance and acres upon acres of sand.

Chapter Three

"If everything goes as planned, Venom will succeed. It was planned that Corneria would lie down and die of fear."

-Dr. Duelba Higgins, Venom

"Time was a misnomer, life an odd construance of truth. Such as things were, such they are, such they will be..."

Higgins smiled as he tapped mercilessly on his keyboard, not even totally sure what his purpose was. Soon, he knew, the end was to come - President Harrels had not been kidding, and Zoness was now out of Venom's control. For over a month Corneria had occupied the planet, and Higgins was greatly distressed. Two of his greatest creations were sitting right under Corneria's nose, and if they were found...

One was lost, he soon learned from the spy reports. Convoy 2, a device and bioweapon combination whose predecessor had polluted Zoness much to his own delight, had been seized and was being returned to Corneria. Higgins was relatively sure he would never see it again, but if he couldn't have it, no one could. He had activated an antimatter device which had utterly demolished Convoy 2 and made it appear to merely vanish. But his other creation... it could not be lost!

It was a brilliant thing - four seeds kept in a hermetically sealed and sterile container. All they needed was water, and instantly they would unleash a devastating biological weapon. He was working on it during a trip to Zoness and had left it in an underground lab, which he was relatively certain didn't register as seized by Corneria. A dedicated staff worked there and it was likely that they had shut off most all their power to present themselves as a mere shell of a base that would be passed over. And for their sake, it should have been. Higgins hit a few more keys.

Slowly his android's eyes flickered on and he saw the doors to the base. He plodded closer and snuck deep into the base, using pathways and tricks that only a Higgins-piloted droid could make. Within seconds it was at the vault doors, clicking in the password.

"D.E.A.T.H...T.O...T.H.E...I.N.S.T.I.T.U.T.I.O.N..." Higgins read aloud slowly. The door chirped and slid open, stale air rushing out. Forwards, ever forwards...

Soon the android was resealing the vault and escaping with the small container of seeds. Higgins implemented its AI program and hoped to the gods that it could reach the rendevous point in time...

---

Holt trudged at last back into Cavanaugh. It was late morning and the streets were quiet, most people sitting down to a nice lunch or out in the scrublands on picnics. Holt ran up the stairs and threw open the door to his room.

There, sitting at the desk chair, was a tall ferret fondling a gun. He wore a white shirt and blackish pants and a tie that was brown and yellow. He looked up, cocked the gun one last time, and smiled, setting it on the desk.

"Good day, Holt."

Holt grinned. "Same to you, Dar. You sure came fast!"

Dar Mansfield, Cornerian Agent, shrugged. "I pick things up quick. I've already guessed from your tone of voice that you've got a monumental plan."

Holt nodded enthusiastically. "I suppose you know what happened yesterday here in Cavanaugh..."

Dar scoffed. "We've known for weeks."

Holt was surprised and agitated. "And you didn't bother to send help? That's cruel!"

Dar nodded sadly. "I'm compassionate; it may be my worst weakness. Spies aren't supposed to care, but when I heard the Shifting Sands were coming I wanted to go. But I couldn't. Some idiot sent me off to Macbeth to destroy a pair of Subjugator class missiles [see The Other War]. I know, it sucks, it really does. So, what's your plan Holt?"

Holt took a deep breath and proposed it.

"I want to sneak into Andross's palace."

Dar smirked, but didn't laugh. "'It'd never work.' That's the first thing my superiors would've told me. But I know you, Holt. I bet you could get into the palace if you really tried, couldn't you? Well, what am I here for?"

Holt looked at his childhood friend. "Dar, you know for a fact that Andross is losing this war. Maybe worse than it seems, seeing as you're the one who's in the know. Listen to me - Andross is part of my destiny. And better yet, all of Venom who's anybody will be there - all the generals, plus his inner circle... y'know..."

"Ressler, Higgins, and a few select old friends. Yeah, I know." Dar said plainly. "The gang's all assembled so they can die at once, I guess. Stupid, stupid planning. But I happen to know that Venom's never been too keen in the intelligence war."

"Really?" Holt said in shock. "I thought we were weaseling out tons of Venomian spies!"

Dar agreed. "Yeah, because frankly none of them can do their job! They're too easy to root out and let's face it, the facts are plain. Corneria lost early on because of the pompous attitude and discombobulated nature of the Navy and Army. Venom almost - almost - won by reducing our vast troop base to nothing. Statistically they've killed more, but we also have more. From day one the only division of Corneria that did its job right was intelligence, and they've been better than Venom by far. Notice that Arwings never turned up in the hands of Venom? That ain't coincidence - Arspace has a half dozen CIA agents in the factory guarding against industrial spies. And why do you think we've known how to hit the bioweapons? They're pretty strong, but every time one's shown up the CIA was on top of it and radioed the info to Starfox, who always took 'em down. Face it, Holt, we're winning the real war and we've been winning it since the get-go. But if Andross stays alive it shoots the whole purpose to hell. If there is no banner to fall behind Venom will crack and fall apart. General Motambo's en route to Venom now. He'll make landfall tomorrow. Starfox is picking their way towards Area 6 again too. I can't tell you what's going on because I'm not actually supposed to know, but this war's about to come to a close. But can we win without you? Without your plan? I don't know, but in my experience I can't take too many risks. I found the A.C.L. hideout, didn't I? Almost got killed on an assassination attempt. I can do what you need me to do, Holt - my ZB-11 and I. How's it gonna be done?"

Holt was smug. "There's a lotta dead Shifting Sands troopers out there in the square, and they've got really good, identity concealing armor. There's also a second troop transport. With all that stuff, plus the soldiers' IDs and the like, we could land at the main platform and be in the palace in minutes! We've got to give it a try."

Dar conceded. "I think I can make that work, Holt. But the two of us?"

"Three," Holt said proudly. "Natasha Edison's on our side too."

"Natasha!?" Dar said in disbelief. "Natasha Edison, Agent Progeny?"

"The selfsame, Dar." Holt said with a wide grin. "I told you I could make this work. Are you up to it?"

Dar picked up his gun and pointed it out the window. At the last possible second he lowered it, content that if there had been something outside, he'd have hit it.

"Yup. Get Natasha and let's go now. I'll get ready."

Holt left Dar to his own devices and darted out into the street. He though about Natasha. Was she really trustworthy? Yeah, he could feel that in her. But what else about her was so unsettling? What made Holt so nervous around her? He knew he liked her, quite a bit, but they hardly really knew each other. Holt was sure she wouldn't relish the chance to go back to Venom, but then it might be for her betterment to do it. He looked up into her window but couldn't see anything since the shutters were drawn. He called out.

"Natasha? Hey, I'm coming up, make sure you're decent!" The young Wirmisch stepped up her stairwell and knocked on the door.

"Natasha? Natasha... you napping?"

He checked the handle. The door wasn't locked, so he swung it open and then he saw her.

She was standing with her paws in the air in the bedroom, which Holt could see through an arch. Whatever was going on he could tell she was being held at gunpoint. He crept forwards.

"Come into the bedroom, Mr. Wilkinson." Demanded a gruff deep voice. He did as was demanded.

"Kneel with paws on your head." Ordered Cni, the feared bounty hunter who had been clever enough to track them down. "Are you alone?"

Holt nodded. "I thought I was. I guess you betrayed me, didn't you Natasha?"

Natasha smiled, realizing what Holt was doing. She kicked him in the head. "Damn right, you Cornerian creep! Were you really that dumb? I knew you'd fall into our trap somehow..."

Cni walked forwards. "Agent Progeny, I have orders to take you back to Venom with me. We must transport him as well. Is there a viable way to do that?"

Holt pretended to plead. "Don't tell him, Natasha! Don't tell him how to stunt my powers!"

Natasha shook her head. "Never. Alright, Cni, all you have to do is make him bleed. Wirmisch can't bleed or they lose all their abilities until the wound heals."

Cni nodded and withdrew a knife. He lightly pricked Holt's cheek and the ermine feigned a sudden spasm of weakness. He grunted.

"You... betrayed me Natasha... you bitch!"

She slapped his prone form. "Don't you talk to me like that! I'll make sure Ressler takes you out real nice-like. Alright Cni, lead the way."

A half an hour later Dar peeked his helmeted head out of the alleyway in time to see a bloblike transport fly into the air. He recognized it as the ship of Cni, a bounty hunter. Almost immediately he cursed his luck, knowing that Holt was about to be turned over to Venom. He'd see the inside of the palace all right, and maybe a few unexpected torture chamber stops. Dar checked all his weaponry - rifle with reloads, ZB-11 under the armor, and of course the armor itself - and set out for the transport. In seconds it too was on it's way to Venom.

---

Cni was motionless as he controlled the ship of his own making, steering a course for Venom. Natasha sat beside him, keeping an occasional eye on Holt, who was trying his best to appear apprehended. She turned back and spoke to Cni.

"What's going on with you, big guy? What'll you do after you've got this bounty?"

He didn't move. "I'll save it for retirement, that's what. Shut up and stop asking questions. We're about an hour from Venom."

They cruised on for what seemed like eternity. Natasha was quiet and only returned a gaze to Holt at random times. It wasn't quite time yet... but...

Holt knew exactly when it would be. Cni leaned forwards to verify ID.

"Who is this?" The Venomian controller asked. Cni nodded.

"This is the bounty hunter, Cni. I have the man Ressler set a bounty on with me. Allow me to land."

A few minutes passed before the controller gave the OK. "Fine, docking platform 3B. You know the way to Right Ressler from there."

Cni grunted and switched off the comm unit. He turned around to gloat...

And Holt kicked him as hard as possible in the face. While any normal, unprotected creature would've had their neck snapped or their nose shoved out the back of their head, Cni was safe. His odd helmet absorbed the blow and Holt's boot sank a few inches into the armor before bouncing out. Holt scrambled to the rear of the craft and Cni approached without a thought to Natasha. She sat, gave the thumbs up to Holt, and pretended like she was keeping her distance, all the while carefully fingering a pistol.

Holt waited, and Cni began by rushing him low. The slick ermine darted to the right but Cni managed to clip his leg somewhat in passing. Holt spun around and landed sprawled on the starboard floor. He rose and backed up, Cni being prepared to charge again. Suddenly the sly bounty hunter rolled forwards and unleashed a furious sweeping kick which landed Holt on his rear end and Cni above. The hunter rose his foot and swiped Holt across the nose. Cni heard a telltale snap and knew the Wirmisch's nose would limp to the side. Which it did... until it suddenly snapped back into place unharmed. Cni was in shock, and Holt used the moment to leap up with a furious right hook, catching the bounty hunting cnidarian-imitant in the side of the head. The blow was stopped from hitting with full force, of course, but Cni was disconcerted and Holt didn't waste his time. He leapt at Cni, hitting the tough goon repeatedly in the back. Cni flipped Holt over one shoulder and wasn't as surprised as before to see his opponent rising again. Holt wiped sweat from his forehead and warned Cni.

"Don't piss me off, bud."

Cni smiled, drawing his pistol. Natasha fumbled to click her own chamber shut but was too late. Cni raised the weapon, which suddenly became a sort of gelatinous liquid. The gun drooped and began oozing through the bounty hunter's gloved fingers, collecting in a puddle on the floor. Backing away, Cni would've presented a look of disbelief if his face had been visible. He leapt into the air to come down on Holt with full fury, and as he did the transport, on autopilot, jostled in landing. Cni hit the ceiling and a metal ridge cut deep into the cnidarian helmet. Immediately blood began spurting out of the hole, and Holt's eyes widened as he trembled.

"He's dead, isn't he?"

Natasha rose and shuddered. "Maybe... I can't really say. C'mon, we've got to act like he was trying to get me, and so I killed him. You break free and run, and I'll let them take me somewhere."

Holt warned her. "They'll try to erase your memories again. If they do I'm toast."

She nodded, frowning. "I'd never allow them to. Good luck, Holt."

In the distance, a ball of light on a nearby ridge lit up the dusty evening sky and Natasha and Holt leapt out to see what was going on. Natasha was clever and had kept her pistol to Holt's head even as they craned to look.

"What was that?" She barked angrily. A deck officer squinted, then accepted a pair of macronoculars and zoomed in on the area where the light had been. He lowered them with shaky paws.

"It's an artillery shot, ma'am. The Cornerian Army is within range!"

Natasha laughed. "They can't hit the palace until they pass Central Ridge. And our defenses there are entrenched. We'll hold 'em off, don't worry."

The officer nodded, then gestured to Holt. "Who's that?"

She laughed. "Ressler's prize. Take him off and watch that boy closely..."

A pair of guards grabbed Holt's arms and led him away, but Natasha was not alone for long. A small errandrunning bankvole approached her.

"Agent Progeny... Mr. Hosanna requests you in the Intelligence Ward."

She closed her eyes and nodded, outwardly accepting it as part of a Venomian plan. Inwardly, though, she was afraid. He left and she turned to look at Central Ridge, which was beginning to light up in the flames of battle. It was only a matter of time...

Holt waited until the guards were escorting him down a dull and empty hallway before concentrating and adjusting the corridor. The guards stopped.

"Do you see that?" One asked, pointing at the wall.

"It's... shimmering and watery!" The other blurted, staring. Holt immediately kicked the guard to his left as hard as possible in the shin and used the then freed arm to snap the other guard's neck with a chop. Rubbing his slightly bruised wrist, Holt ran off down the corridor. There was so much to the palace and the size of it was such that it might've been better to just wait and let Ressler come to him! But Holt knew he had to search and also that his time was wearing thin. He slipped through a door and was awed.

The room was a tremendous dome, perhaps a hundred yards high, with its own artificial sky and sun. The entire floor of the area below the catwalk he stepped onto was carpeted in grass and trees of all sorts. What a place of such beauty was doing in a place so filled with violence was beyond Holt's reasoning, but he figured that even Andross would tire of life indoors, and life in the wilds of Venom was less than attractive. Holt walked about nervously, but he could see no other people about. The dome had a large walkway in the center with a vast column that supported the entire roof. Holt guessed that there was an elevator in it, and if there was, it would be safe bet to say that it led to Andross.

Dar, meanwhile, had landed his transport and was mingling with the other troopers at the base, engaged in gossip.

"So the Cornerians are attacking us now?" Dar asked. "Idiots."

Another trooper, whose helmet was also still on, chuckled. "Yeah, whaddo they think they can do. I mean, the gods are siding with Emperor Andross. We can't lose."

"I hope not," said one. "I would die before letting my emperor be led to Corneria in chains."

Dar decided to pose his question. "Say I'm looking for Right Ressler. Would he be with the emperor now?"

"Probably," the first soldier said with a shrug, "I don't see why not. Why?"

"I have a really important message." Dar announced. "About victory on another front. I was supposed to give it to Ressler, but if they're together I could just, y'know, tell them both. Where are they anyhow?"

"Well," the second soldier added, "you could try the rear elevators. Main ring, y'know, go around the ecodome, and to the back region. That's where the elevators to the throne room and control center are. Got that?"

Dar nodded. "Thanks. I won't be late with the news."

Dar entered the base, still in disguise, and began walking down the main ring to the elevators. Miles long, the main ring was the premier place to peoplewatch in the base, as hundreds of thousands filed past every hour. As such, many small soldier cafes had been set up alongside it, so that the troops could look, chat, and gawk. At long last, he managed to find the elevators, which were strangely untouched by the flush of people who passed by. Clicking an up button, the Cornerian ferret waited patiently until the doors parted. Inside was another soldier who eyed him curiously.

"What floor?"

"Throne room or control center level," Dar explained, "wherever I can find Right Ressler or Emperor Andross. I have very vital news."

The guard nodded. "Alright. I'll take you to the level between them. I don't really know for sure which one they're on."

The doors slid shut and Dar smiled deep down inside of himself. It could never be this easy... but then, there was always somebody tougher...

Natasha stepped into the frightful black room where she had been so often brainwashed. Coming out of the back room with a fresh memory potion, Jesus Hosanna was ready for business as usual.

"Agent Progeny," he said casually, getting close to her. "Please have a sea-"

She belted him in te stomach and grabbed the vial. The surprised and stunned bobcat could do nothing but gasp as she tossed him to the floor in the corner. Natasha held down his paws as she shoved the green liquid down his throat, then rising with mild laughter, she left.

"I probably won't ever have the opportunity to do that in my life... good to get it out of the way before I get curious."

Holt stood in front of the main walkway in the ecodome and faced the pillar. Sure enough, two large doors with a symmetrical image of Andross on them faced him. Even less of a shock was the parting of the doors, revealing a tall lizard in purple robes. His arm was transfigured into a plasmatic blade, and Holt immediately did the same to his own arm, his laser sword still in the cockpit of his arwing back on Katina. The lizard, whom Holt recognized as the one who had tossed him off the bridge so long ago, spoke with a certain wicked confidence that belonged to only one man.

"It is nice of you to join us for our last stand, Mr. Wilkinson." Nix-Ressler said with a smile. "Venom will soon falter, but destiny will alter all our states. You see, Andross has prepared for this moment for many years. He has made Central Ridge so strong that only Starfox has a chance of penetrating it, and he is making certain that Fox McCloud will have to face him in single combat with his special biomutated battlesuit. Andross has rested for twelve hours - he cannot possibly lose this fight. Fox will die, but Venom will fall. Isn't that nice?"

Holt spat. "I won't let it happen. So help me I'll kill Andross myself, but I won't suffer to let him accomplish his goal of killing Fox McCloud. That'd be too much consolation for him. Where is Andross, Ressler!? Where?"

Ressler walked a few steps forwards. "You recognize me as Ressler... your powers are quite strong now!"

Holt glared at him smugly. "I can smell a rat whether he's dressed in a gorilla or a lizard suit. C'mon, Ressler, we have to settle this."

At that word Ressler lunged forwards, and the ermine Wirmisch met his arm with a blade of his own, parrying but being forced back some. Ressler swung low and Holt was there to stop it. The fight wore on, high strike, block, low strike, dodge, cross strike, counterstrike. At last Ressler backed away, gloating.

"You've failed to practice, Holt! What a pitiful little scam-ahh!"

Holt had leapt forwards and plunged his blade into Ressler's left shoulder. Scales broke as blood began to flow heedlessly, the bone utterly disintegrated. Ressler's lizard jaw dropped as he stumbled back, concentrating his energies into reforming his arm parts.

"I lost... I lost! How, how can... how can this be? No... you won by sheer luck. You are still weaker, Holt! I will never die, you will see! Someday I'll write the history of this sordid system and you won't show up at all!!!"

Holt was aghast. "You... you're planning to WRITE the history? That's been your plan all this time?"

"Of course!" Ressler exclaimed. "Who cares about making history? Andross can only live a short while, in the grand scheme of things. If he did take over Lylat his death would bring about dissent and the whole stupid war would start again, his name would just be a name. But by writing history, I can reach beyond mere influence of a generation... I can influence hundreds of millions of impressionable young Lylatians, whether their banner be Corneria, Venom, Zoness, Aquas, some terrorist league, anarchy, a religious emblem, it makes no difference! Even if my name is forgotten I will still be immortal. I can control what future generations think. I can paint Starfox as a band of vicious barbarians and Corneria as a foolish group. Or the other way around - Andross as a greedy tyrant and Venom as a puppet empire! But who will stop me? Who can prevent me from changing history after the fact? Get the hell out of my life, Wilkinson. You are not destined to be my demise... no, I can see myself greatly enhanced by the sheer wonder of it all... the future... the future is mine..."

Ressler faded into the elevator doors. Holt stood stock still, fearing for his life and for the lives of people thousands of years from then. What would they hear? Who would tell them that what one side did was virtuous, the other evil? All he could do was fight Ressler; could he fight Ressler's dream?

He approached the elevator doors himself and clicked the button to open the lift doors, his mind too cluttered to will them intangible. As he stepped aboard he pondered how to get where he was going. He clicked a button between one with a large "T" and another with a "CC". Sighing, he watched the doors close and the floors shift slowly...

Halfway up, they stopped. Holt cursed. The doors slid open and Natasha was there. The male ermine breathed a sigh of relief.

"You're OK!"

"Damn straight! We've gotta go, they sniffed me out and they're tailing me!"

At that moment that Natasha entered the elevator, guards poured around the corner. In full view of their sights, Holt began frantically clicking the door close button. Unable to get it to operate in time, Holt turned to face the guards. A barrage of lasers illuminated the corridor as the doors began to slide closed, but Holt was unharmed. Natasha had leapt in front of him and was taking the shots all over, lasers burning holes in her jumpsuit and blasting chunks of white fur and flesh into the elevator car. The doors clicked shut and she slumped to the floor, coughing. Holt dropped to his knees in disbelief.

"Natasha!?! Are you alright?"

She sputtered, hacking up blood. "Do I look alright to you, big guy? They got me, Holt... I'm dying here. I don't think even your powers could save me now."

Holt stammered. "They could! You'll be fine, I'll help you..."

He tried hard to concentrate, but the short lived memory of Natasha taking the fall for him, being repeatedly shot over and over in his subconscious, destroyed his abilities to concentrate during the elevator ride. Natasha's eyes drooped and she spoke softly and painfully.

"Holt... remember when we first saw each other, on the lawn at... at Archibald's?"

Holt nodded, tears welling. "Yeah... I can remember that."

"I'm sorry I called you a two-bit thief, Holt..." she said quietly. "At first I thought you were stealing my heart... it never... occured to me that you were... giving me yours..."

Natasha laid her head back and sighed, trembling. Holt leaned over to her, parted her muffed headfur, and kissed her softly on the still winter-white forehead. She closed her eyes peacefully and a smile crossed her lips before she ceased to cling to him forever. Painfully stricken, Holt lifted her destroyed body into his paws and cradled her, crying.

"I could've asked Delphi... I could've saved myself so much pain... if only I'd found out sooner; I knew it was inevitable, but why now? Why now of all times? Oh gods, you put a beautiful erminess in my life, and snatched her away twice as fast... if I could've died for you, Natasha, I know I would've... please, I want you to know I'll never think about another woman the same way, ever, ever... ever again. That's a promise... maybe the only one I'll ever be able to keep to you."

Chapter Four

"Here lie the ruins of a toppled god;

his fall was not a small one

All we did was build his base;

a narrow and a tall one"

-Terran Author Frank Herbert, Dune Messiah

Andross stood before Ressler at the junction of a hallway.

"I must away to my throne room, Endriss. The battle with McCloud draws nearer... how good it will feel to make him die as his father did so many years ago."

Ressler nodded, in silent agreement. "I will go to my quarters, and command from there. The Army will not penetrate, and in the air I know to allow none but Starfox in..."

Andross growled. "Curse them all! But, it is of no matter... I cannot possibly lose now. Our time of victory is at paw, Ressler! With McCloud dead Corneria will back off somewhat and we can return to the winning streak we had prior to this war."

The ape turned left and ascended his private lift. Ressler scoffed.

"What a fool. I can see it plain that his destiny is soon to come... and yet why is it that I cannot forsee my own???"

---

"Hey you! Hold it right there."

Holt stopped in the hallway as a trooper in Shifting Sands gear approached him. He readied himself defensively, but it wasn't necessary. The soldier whipped off his helmet, revealing a tall black-footed ferret's face below. Holt grinned quietly.

"Good of you to make it this far, Dar... there's only two now."

Dar stuttered. "Na... Edison..."

"Died." Holt said curtly. "She died, damnit. They don't care who they kill now, only how fast and efficient they do it! I'll kill that ape! I'll kill that lizard! I'll kill them all!!!"

"Temper, temper." Dar warned. "You'll never get anywhere like that. If you let your anger boil you're gonna fly off the handle and just kill yourself, Holt."

Holt sighed, taking a deep breath. "I... I just can't say I loved her, I mean I did a little, I just didn't know her as well as I wanted to."

"You'd have been disappointed in the end." Dar said with a knowing smile. Holt glanced over at his companion with one raised eyebrow.

"Aw, c'mon, she had information!" the ferret pleaded. Holt motioned down the hall.

"Forget that, come with me!"

They stopped after two minutes of running at a nondescript junction that led to two lifts, both of which had been recently used. Holt stopped, kneeled down, and began probing the twin paths. At last he rose, pointing.

"Ressler's gone that way," he said with a point to his left. "Andross went left."

Dar nodded. "Alright then. Which way are you going? I'll go the other way."

Holt looked from one path to another, confused. "I... don't know. I can't kill Andross, that much I know, but if I don't try... he'd kill Fox. But if I ignore Ressler he'd escape and his plot to influence future generations by writing the history of Lylat in his own words might succeed."

"You forget, Holt," Dar said with a smile and a quick flash of his ZB-11, "there's one of us who could handle either one's little plans."

Holt sighed and looked to the left. "Forget Ressler... I'm going to turn Andross."

"Turn him?" Dar asked inquisitively.

"Turn him back to his own destiny." Holt said as he ran to the lift. Dar, meanwhile, ran to the other one and once inside clicked on the button for the Right's Apartment. The lift hummed and quickly whisked him to his target area. He stepped off, and immediately holstered his weapon. Ressler was sly, but he knew too well. The briefings were enough to convince him of what the strange Wirmisch could do. He called out.

"Where are you, Ressler?"

"Who is that!?" Screamed Ressler desperately, still trying to nurse his arm. It was refusing to heal for some strange reason, as though his body would not respond. A tall ferret in Shifting Sands Battalion garb entered his anteroom.

"It's the angel of death," Dar said, grinning. "I see I came just in time."

Ressler rose, backing away. "Stay back, you! Oh I see what you want... you want to kill me. But I won't allow it! Don't think I'm so stupid I won't see what you're doing. You can't kill me, noooo no. You'll see. Stay away!!!"

Ressler opened a door and slammed it behind himself. Dar simply threw it open. The lizard had moved into a spacious living room with vast windows that offered an excellent view of the chaotic army battle raging several miles in the distance. Dar drew closer and punched Ressler in his wounded arm. Howling in pain, the robed Wirmisch leapt back.

"You pitiless thug..." Ressler taunted, knowing the end was nearer than he expected. "you'll just kill me and your conscience will eat you alive later! I'm unarmed, not resisting, not fighting back. But you'll kill me anyway."

Dar nodded. "I will at that. Don't think they picked me for this job because they thought I'd regret killing you for what you are - an egomaniacal greedy bastard."

Dar kicked Ressler again. At last the lizard reached into the folds of his robe, dashed across the large room, and drew a grenade.

"You think you've won! Ha! C'mon, die first and let me suffer on my own!"

Ressler pulled the pin and heaved the grenade in a deadly arc. He was not prepared for the ferret's reflexes. Drawing his Zuelder-Braening and taking no time, Dar fired a single shot at the grenade which caused it to burst in midair, far enough not to harm him and near enough to fling Ressler back and into the wall. His spine nearly snapped under the stress and Ressler coughed, watching Dar come closer.

"So... so it ends then." Ressler muttered.

Dar smirked, lifting his armored foot. "It's like I've said to every Venomian creep I've ever dealt with," he explained, "you think you're really good..."

Dar plunged his foot straight at Ressler's chest. Ribs shattered as the boot crashed deep into the body cavity and smashed the heart and lungs with callous disregard. Blood flying in all directions and air rushing from his reptilian lungs like helium from an open balloon, Ressler died instantly. Dar stepped out and kicked the worthless corpse.

"...but there's always somebody tougher."

---

A tall leopard shoved open the small door to the lab where Higgins was working.

"Dr. Higgins!!! Under orders from Andross I'm to allow anyone who wants to evacuate onto my transport. All the officers and Right Ressler turned me down bravely, saying they would live and die with Andross. I'm guessing you're the same way?"

The steer rose, cackling with glee as he slipped an accordion file under his arm.

"Of course not! By all means, lead the way. I may be the least stable of Venom's forces, but I'm not stupid. Take me off then, and make it snappy."

The leopard saluted and led Higgins through hallway upon hallway. Most of the troops they saw were in a state of alert, since almost all were being assigned to reinforce Central Ridge. Higgins shoved his way through angrily, following the pilot.

"Damnit all! Get away from me, go to your deaths! See if I ever care. What did your families tell you? See, now you know you SHOULD'VE listened to your parents when they warned you to stick with Corneria!"

The leopard turned. "Dr. Higgins!!! That's treason!"

Higgins shrugged it off. "Does it really make any difference now? I doubt your pretty little emperor will live long enough to try me for the crime! Lead on, fool."

The cat did as ordered and within a few minutes pushed open a door where a transporter was idling. Over the din, Higgins rushed forwards, calling back to the leopard, who was bracing himself for takeoff.

"How fast can we be away?"

"Seconds!!!" The pilot cried. "Why!?!"

"Because..." Higgins said, motioning to the upper atmosphere, "Starfox is en route!!!"

The pilot looked up for a few seconds as Higgins leapt into a passenger seat. Indeed, in the horizon were the glinting, unmistakeable hulls of the greatest mercenary unit of the time. He gasped and strapped on his helmet.

Then he leapt into the cockpit and launched away. Higgins watched Venom grow to a tiny dot far below him.

"Who else is aboard?"

The pilot looked back. "There's a technician... Hosanna we think... who got his butt kicked about an hour ago. We're evacuating him. And there's some scattered officers, mostly cowards. Myself included."

"You're not a coward," Higgins consoled, "you're smart. What's your name?"

"Major Bren Stuyvesant, Sir."

Higgins grinned. "Excellent work, Major. We aboard this transport may be the only ones to truly benefit from this war..."

---

"It's over!" Andross cried triumphantly. "Starfox is on it's way and I have but to wait. And I cannot-"

The doors to his throne room burst open as no creature alive had the capacity to do. Standing at the door was an ermine in a brown desert robe, white-furred and bloodstained all over. Almost trembling, Andross instead decided to laugh.

"I do not care who you are, or what you're doing! I have no need for you. You see, there was an oracle on Katina once, and I asked her to tell me my destiny. She said, in a sense, others would bow down to me, but a McCloud would finally kill me after a sculptor helped him. But, of course, being emperor it was quite easy to have all the sculptors on Venom and all the sculptor prisoners we had executed. I know I shall win against Fox because that sculptor has not arrived."

Holt grinned and stopped, laughing. Andross was not amused.

"What's so funny?"

"You fool!" Holt cried out both prophetically and hysterically. "You never thought for a moment you could dodge destiny, did you? I'm here at the last possible moment to make sure your destiny is upheld. I am a Wirmisch... a 'sculptor' in a symbolic sense. And now, you see, your destiny is set."

Andross was shaken. Life drained from his once confidant eyes.

"No... that can't be true. You're lying to me! Ahhh... I will still win against Fox... why bother myself? I rested for so long. I will not lose."

Holt sighed and closed his eyes, thinking.

"Once you had love in your life... once you were married, Andross."

The ape growled. "Be quiet!!! I don't want to hear those lies!"

"And you had two sons, Andross... two sons who thought you loved them and their mother... but you didn't love them."

"No!!! Stop lying to me!!!" Andross cried out angrily, his psyche disintegrating.

"No, and when the time came to die with them you abandoned them all. Now your wife and one son lie waterlogged, eaten alive by the fish and eroded to moldy bones by the water..." Holt went on, seeing more than he ever imagined.

"You!!! I order you to be quiet!"

"You had another chance, but now your second son lies dead on the floor of an old outpost, filled with laser holes from your own troops... where was your faith then? Where was your destiny? You're a murderer, a tyrant, and a slaver!!!" Holt was practically screaming down the ape, accusingly pointing a finger that sent into Andross more pain than any phaser ever could.

"Stop! Stop..." He said, breaking down into tears. Holt looked down and spat on his head.

"I have no sympathy for you, Andross. Go fight Fox... the time of your destiny is now."

And with that, Holt turned and left the hall, left Venom, and left Andross. Accompanied by Dar, he abandoned the planet just prior to Andross's final defeat on the surface of Venom... but that is a tale well known to all, of heroes we're all familiar with.

It's the little, unknown heroes that history so often forgets. And as Ressler said, that is what can make all the difference.

The End