Chapter Text
“You’ll be alright, Della.” Fox McCloud reassured. He took a seat on a leather-skinned, flat spinny chair. “Just breathe.”
The white duck sat down, the door whirring closed behind. Walking over in her new pair caused a bit of struggle, but she was otherwise fine. She inhaled air and expanded her lungs. Then she let loose the used air from her lung, tilting her head downwards to her chest. The exhalation swarmed over her brown pilot’s jacket and blue scarf. Darkness enveloped her vision; closing her eyes would contribute to keeping her calm.
Warm colors danced in the void she currently saw. Her heart thumped in her chest, each pulse seemingly everlasting. She held her arms down to her sides, tightly gripping the metal bench she sat on. Its rigidness met her squeezing, stressed fingers. She noted the bench’s cold feel compared to the room's warmth.
She could do this; she knew she could. All she had to do was lift herself, mentally and physically, get up, take a few steps, then declare the oath. Perfectly. That was all; it was all. It’d only been a few minutes, yet the pressure she put on herself had burst past maximum. Her nerves tingled. Declaring herself ready after being asked to join took a few days on its own, never mind the slow yet fast month since her crash.
How she deserved this honor for learning basic duties in so little time was a baffling delight. The rookie ranked official member in a short time. Della could feel the sweat pooling. It felt like a mistake already.
“You can do it,” he said. “Facing your new self is frightening, but you can do it.”
Eyes still closed, Della’s legs trembling a bit, stuck swaying under the bench. It’d only been a short while since she’d arrived. Everything had changed. She’d lost it all and nearly died in her reckless pursuit of showing off. Nothing here was familiar, taking time to become adjusted. Waking up, she half expected it to be a dream. This was her new reality, with these kind strangers. Her fortune, despite self-induced tragedy, was ironic.
“Relax. We are here if you need us.”
Della could not join them. It felt right, it felt wrong, and all in between. Forming bonds with the only people around in the abyss of space tickled her as a paradox. Nothing came naturally, and it was a choice. Even so, she found the Star Fox crew extremely welcoming. It was a strange facet of her new life. Traveling together aboard the mothership proved a good way of becoming acquainted. Though, it was less so when you had no other options. Simply put, she had no choice but to be with them, yet she was smiling despite her losses.
Della could leave any moment after they found a planet to dock and devise a way of getting home by striking out on her own. Why hurt anyone anymore? Yet, their tender kindness was just as compelling a reason to stay. They’d help her through, no matter how stubborn she might be. Helping her through sleepless nights of tormenting nightmares was technically unnecessary. Attempting to communicate these thoughts, though, knotted her tongue.
Noticing her beak silently gaping, McCloud read her body language. “Take a moment. Slow and steady. Think, and then speak.”
A few moments passed by.
“It all feels…” Della managed to finally jostle out of her throat, “... complex.”
“Della, you can master anything you set your mind to, complex or otherwise,” McCloud replied. “Your survival states as much. That’s why we chose to induct you without hassle.”
She sighed. “Even so… knowing I can do it is different from taking action to do it…” Her voice dropped off.
“That is the test’s purpose,” McCloud reminded, “Can you take the action?”
”... or feeling that I should be here at all.” she finished.
“You are a good person, Della. You are welcome to our help, anytime.”
Della chortled in a strained manner. “Not that I have anywhere to go from here… or anyone I know…” Sadness rang out.
“That is true,” the fox said bluntly. “Though you are stranded here, think of the positives.”
“Kaput straight into care is one,” the duck said. “What’s next, laser shooting in an asteroid belt? That’s a positive to look forward to.”
McCloud let out a small chuckle of his own. “Making an Arwing out of your rocket parts will be interesting, but we are not there. Focus, and face your present challenge. We are here if you need us. Let us be quiet. Focus, Della, focus.”
Della nodded, eyes still closed. You can pass your official test, Della! Then you can go on fun adventures with them, liberate this galaxy, and find a way home, and-
She shook her head and blanked out.
You're doing it again, Della, focus! Don’t be so daft!
Whipping her head into motion, she forgot how long she had been sitting here. Has it been three minutes more or thirty already? Trying to recall–memory metamorphosed into a mist mysteriously. A haze that came when you thought about it; annoying but manageable. You try to grasp what you just thought of, and it vanishes. Though, It didn’t matter how long she’d been sitting here. All Della had to do was pick herself up off this bench and keep it together. Yep, that was all.
One lurch, one step, and one speech were all it took. Yet Della was afraid. Not that she'd stumble, she knew she likely wouldn’t; McCloud was there to catch her in case. It was the act itself. Symbolically, it signified a rite of passage. The idea was simple. What it inherently meant was simple. Doing it was not. So, why couldn’t she do it? Could she not put her mind into one place and piece?
No, what struck her was that it would finalize that her life had changed. That was the problem. The bittersweetness of her circ*mstances. The guilt, fear, and anxiety of rebuilding herself and reconnecting to this life with who she knew now and was with. She’d had to face that it may be this way forever. The act is ordinary. But the far-reaching consequences? Difficult to fathom.
Taking these first steps would mean acknowledging she would never be the same again. Della felt tense, muscles tightened. Her hands clutched the bench, balancing against the newest parts of her body. Was she truly ready for this? To pierce and tear herself away from the possibility of home? To join team Star Fox? She knew she wanted to. She knew she would. Still, Della questioned how she deserved it. The thumping of the heart increased; the recurring thoughts appeared.
You can do this, Della. It's only a single step, a small boost off your fearmongering behind.
But what would Scrooge say when you return? He'll scream at you, it'll be proof you betrayed him!
That's not true. You know he wouldn't do that. Donald misses you dearly,
But your boys, my precious boys… you almost killed yourself for just a little stupid joyride! And now look at yourself…
Tears welled up; she felt her arms wrap around her as if to protect herself. Panicked liquid escaped her closed eyes. She couldn't do this, couldn't!
It'd been too long, far too long. What would her family say? Even if she found her way home. She was surely dead to them now. She had to be. Memories rushed as more tears flew. She might not ever make it home to Earth. Was there any point in this test?
—
The void of space rushed into view as the red-hued Spear of Selene hurled itself outside the final tugs of the atmosphere. The navigational equipment had fried upon lift-off and sent it far from its safe and planned first test flight across the continent's sky. Instead, it’d shot straight up, with Della unable to change its course. Nor could she slow it down. A massive vortex of clouds swirled around her current trajectory. Soon, she found herself engulfed in a cosmic storm floating past Earth.
This was all wrong!
Della had hopped in the prototype to fly it earlier than Scrooge had planned. Bradford had been nice enough to let her in on the secret birthday gift. Well, maybe kind was not the right word for a stuffy board director. But she was glad the vulture felt dutifully inclined to let her know one of her uncle’s games and fun secrets. One note on his desk, naming the rocket after her very close friend Selene, goddess of the moon, so Scrooge couldn’t have naming rights, and she was off to fly it.
It’d all be fine, fly the prototype and show off. Nothing could stop her, fearless adventurer and pilot Della Duck! However, a malfunction occurred right after launch that short-circuited numerous systems without crashing the engines. By the time she came too from the few seconds of a blackout, the ship had steered itself into the wrong path. It was too late.
A computer screen lit up on the dashboard’s center, revealing an appropriately concerned Scrooge, top hat, red coat, cane, and all. Della fiddled with one hand and steered with the other. Her uncle hadn’t bothered setting an agreed-on frequency yet. Classic him, pushing the minute details to the last minute. Humoring herself briefly helped her current predicament.
Soon, Della found herself inside the spiraling weather complex. Darkness prevailed as all sunlight blotted out. Lightning rocked the rocket ship, volleying strikes everywhere, like an electrical game of tag. Alarms of all kinds blared. The veil of gray and violet clouds outside obscured any hints of where she may be. Inky darkness pranced her vision; the only illumination she could navigate by were the flashes of lightning. Thunder gashed her ears. A particularly violent strike rumbled the ship, causing a distracted Della to smash her head onto the dashboard. Blood dripped from a nasty cut on her forehead.
"Scrooge-" she tried to respond in her pained haze, but Scrooge's feed cut off to a scathing blur of black and white.
She was now alone. Perhaps permanently.
Panic coursed through her veins. Buttons and switches click-clacked. Despite this, the scratchy feed would not come on. She might be too far out. The storm could be scrambling the signal. No reconnection could be re-established either way. Della precariously mashed combination sequences and fiddled with wires in one hand. With the other, she maneuvered in this dark void, devoid of all but her and the storm.
However, trying to do so was destabilizing her steering. Prying her hands away from the last link back home was crushing. She had to be focusing on her present life and ignore the future where she died and never made it home. Pulling firmly, she gripped her steering stick and twirled through the swirling cumulus.
The flying red blur veered sharply to the left, with an upward bank, to avoid a particularly nasty clump of thick ice. Occasional sections swarmed with hail. The ship could withstand light showers for sustained periods of time. However, even one gargantuan chunk would cause immediate duress.
To and fro, to and fro, Della snicker-snacked, slipped, and slunk with steering as the storm steadily slapped the shaking Spear of Selene. With her furious and fearful will, the ship still flew on, even as the distance from home grew. She was alive, but it might be at a cost too great. Della honed into the slight shifts in wind and adjusted accordingly. Shoving away the thoughts of where she was going or how she would get back was the only way to sustain progress.
Della tried everything as she steered the ship through infinity. Her hands dashed across every button combination possible. Her feet worked in tandem with the few controls that were operable to them. Memories of every conceivable training scenario ran the course in her mind. Thunder rumbled, constantly scrambling those thoughts. No matter, Della remembered them anyway. Except they weren’t producing results. With each attempt to find herself a way out, hope grew dimmer, until none was left.
Nothing worked. Her determination crackled. Della closed her eyes, and hot tears poured out. Realization set in too fast for comfort. She wasn't going home anytime soon. This storm was making sure of that. Anguish ran in her veins–at herself. Small, icy pellets rattled the sides. Larger chunks slammed and created dents. Steering took all her might. A might she had used for the wrong purpose.
Why? Why, Della, why?!
Even as she frantically tried to save herself, her inner self was already chiding her selfishness.
You are an ignorant wench! You stole the ship before it was ready! Bradford only told you of it for you not to fly it!
Scrooge would’ve told her when it was ready for her. She had disregarded her trust in him and taken off in this slag prototype. Now, she was far from home, stuck on a course that might leave her stranded in space, even if she managed to survive this storm with determination. She closed her eyes for a moment. Blackness. It felt like a relief compared to the surrounding chaos. Yet it quickly turned sour. If she was too far gone, would these be her final moments, courtesy of her poor choices?
I’ve been on adventures before… but might this be my last?
—
Della once more relived this mix of rage and disappointment at herself. How could she have been so foolish? Was she even more foolish, now, for joining a team of pilots as the worst pilot and mother ever? She’d just hurt them too, inevitably, no matter when it might happen. Pulse increasing, she took breaths to calm herself, with little effect. Her formerly positive, test-entering attitude was crumbling swiftly. She wiped her eyelids dry, leaving them crusty.
The door opened with a whir, and she heard a pair of metal boots shuffle in. A grunt breath and a jolly hum revealed the entrant to be the hare Peppy, the eldest of the group. He was like a warrior bard–older, wise, and a knower of songs, healthily mixed with fury, tactics, and an occasional stint in the Arwing seat to shoot down aircraft. Wafting smells of fresh tea reached her senses. He walked over and hovered at a hearable distance. McCloud stayed silent.
“I sensed, in doing this test, your memories might have a… resurgence.” Peppy chose his words carefully.
Della fought to get a sentence out. “Not a single day hasn’t gone by on this ship that I haven’t recalled.”
Peppy added to her incomplete thought. “But you have kept the feeling behind them repressed.” He took a soft sip of the hot tea, as the steamy aroma indicated.
Della nodded, feeling awkward. She swayed her torso a little bit. “I am thinking about my choices now, and-”
“It’s more than that,” the hare interloped, cutting Della off. “You feel pure guilt, nothing more, nothing less. You blame yourself for your losses and do not want to lose anyone else or be at such fault again. Correct me if I am wrong.”
At a loss for words, Della simply nodded, in between processing his words and her wrecked rack of emotion.
I’ve had deep conversations with him on philosophy. This is the first time he’s gone off about me…
“I once blamed myself for the death of James Fox, from our teammate’s betrayal. I could have done one little thing, I told myself, but it was too late,” Peppy reminisced. “It was both my fault and not my fault. I felt lost for a time, losing nights to the bar, the memories a nightmare never-ending. As you are feeling now.”
“I… I know,” Della croaked, “But I’ve nowhere to go!” Surprising anguish entered her voice. “Even if I join you all, what good does it do any of us for a wreck like me to come in? Why did I even consider this test at all? Why did you even consider me fit at all?!”
“We want to help you, Della, as best we can.” Peppy took a somewhat louder drink from his cup. “But it is rather hard if you do not begin to help yourself.”
Della mumbled. “I’m still the worst pilot to consider, you know. And I’ve hardly known any of you…”
“Stop,” Peppy said. “Stop and listen to yourself. Do you believe that nonsense? You must believe in yourself, Della, to carry on. We believe in you, and you are worthy, despite what you might say to yourself. Regardless of your fault in the loss you have suffered, neither moping nor inaction will not help you.”
“What else am I supposed to do?” Della retorted. “Forget about it, forget about my family, and be giddy forever?!”
“Everything and nothing,” Peppy’s voice contained firmness. “I took in McCloud as my own and forgave myself. Find your redemption, Della, and come to terms with the consequences of your decisions. Think of your future, think of your past, and think of now. What do you want? Think about it.”
“I… I…” she shuttered, her fury cut short. “How I am supposed to do anything if I can’t come to terms…”
“That,” Peppy exalted, “Is of your choosing on how to do it. Find your resolve.”
Della’s mind went to speed a response out. However, something inside stopped her from spitting upon the hare’s generosity. Her shoulder drooped. The mood in the room shifted in an instant, from intensity to numb calm. McCloud stole a drink from Peppy with silent permission, based on what she could hear.
There wasn’t really any more to say, nor reason to find a subject to talk on. Accordingly, she broke down the hare’s words and slowly digested them, pitting them against her current beliefs.
With that advice, Peppy finished his tea, parting ways. Della felt a brief pat on her shoulder. The door whirred open. His metal boots pattered into the hallway before the metal mechanism’s two halves interlocked themselves in the doorway. His presence in the room, even for a few brief minutes, was looming. He’d come in unannounced, engaged in an emotional debate, spoken his mind, and then left. Weirdly, it left more to be desired in Della’s mind.
Oddly, Della questioned, I feel slightly better.
Della found her thoughts clear, herself shaking less when she refocused on herself. Why did she raise her voice at all? Peppy had been consoling her and offering advice he thought best to dole out. And, it worked. She was still mad at herself. The key difference was her internal rage had subsided to be more lenient.
Screaming insults at myself won’t help. Regardless of whether I decide to join Star Fox, I must be grateful for their help. I might not know my future path in this galaxy… yet I still ought to be kind back to them, and everyone I can. Nothing should stop Della Duck, not even herself. Uplift yourself, Glaux darn it, and think positive thoughts. You’re a good person, no matter your mistakes! And an ace pilot at that!
—
She opened her eyes and rubbed them clean with an elbow wipe. Keeping them shut wouldn’t help, sad as she felt. Nor would it help her navigate through this wretched storm. Onward she shuttled with her mind on edge. Why was there left to do? It felt hopeless. Giving up hope, though, was not an option, tempting as it was. Her grip on the steering tightened to leave no possible margin for error. Perhaps it wasn’t worth trying, perhaps it was worth trying. She would live! Della drew forth a solemn vow. She would make it back home, no matter what.
Cosmic winds slammed the hull, attempting to vibrate cracks into her resolve. Patching those cracks took a strong push in herself, and she managed onward against the onslaught outside. This wind had been particularly strong. Had she entered a new region of the storm? Then, another wave of cosmic wind slammed, causing an even more violent vibration. What was broken in the ship now?
Della shifted her foot onto the left floor pedal. The left flap titled, allowing her to arc around an area tangled with fatal amounts of hail. Her other foot snaked the right flap as she straightened the left, completing the circuit. The gaps between the electrical field and swarms of frozen water left less and less room for squandered flying. Four limbs in motion, Della fell into a blur of instinct and calculated estimates in tight motion after motion.
An indescribable state ensued. Some moments she was only vaguely aware of herself tilting the controls. Other times, Della engaged in full attentive capacity. Flashes of lightning guided her path among the clouds and hail. They were her only hope in the blackness and almost dead wing lights, which she’d managed to wire a little amount of power to. The Spear of Selene swerved into space unknown to any duck. Della ignored the growing aches in her fingers and the cramping of her legs. She had to have grit to fuel herself.
Sometime later, a weak snap of crackling stirred her out of semi-lucidity. It appeared she had escaped the wild sections into the calmer regions. Time mattered not. That she had survived the bulk of the storm felt miraculous. What she had done dawned on her in full. Surviving those uncountable banks had some manner of trust in herself, even though she knew most of her was a result of the emotional distress of the situation. Priding herself in any aspect should help upkeep her determination. To think positive thoughts gave positive results.
She scanned the upcoming edges ahead again and again. Eagerly, and equally importantly, patiently, Della approached what must be the end. Every pilot must face the unknown, whether alone or with others. Banking this way, swerving up and around. No amount of skill could help if you didn’t help yourself. Blind in navigation and only herself to make it through. And she was doing it. She just had to maintain her focus to the end and…
Live. That is my answer.
But it was not only to survive, but to live as well.
She'd come back for her boys. It didn't matter how long it took.
I will care for you with all my heart as if I hadn’t left before hatching. Jet, Turbo, Rebel, I will come home someday.
—
Still shrouding her vision in the dark, Della scooted forth a bit. A sense of renewal came from remembering. An idea arose to gage herself. It’d be a jump, but it was the best idea she had to move her progress forward for this test. Motivating herself was the way forward. After all, helping herself would help the others help her. Even if her tactics were dubious, Della was sure of their validity in working. In addition, opening herself up would help her, much as part of her ferociously resisted the idea. So, she gave it a shot.
“How did you handle losing your father to that traitor, McCloud?”
It would be a moment before he replied–a time to think.
“I…” He paused for a reply. “... was lost for a time, as you have been, and as Peppy was too. We were lost together, and he became a second father to me.”
“I know it may seem insensitive,” Della choked out before she could stop herself, “It just hit me that everyone here appears to have lost someone, and I…” Her mouth stuttered from a realization of parchment. “I thought sharing would help.”
Della heard the soft thud of McCloud’s metal boots and the squeak of a faucet. Instinctively, she held out. A glass of ice-cold water slipped inside, and she brought it to her beak. Within a few gulps, it was empty. Her vocal cords felt rejuvenated. Large intakes from the lungs ensued to maximize that refreshing feeling of breathing in cold air caused by the water. The cup settled on the bench with a clink. She could have another glass later on. Talking was of greater importance right now.
A secondary clink followed. McCloud finished Della’s query. “It was bound to come up. No worries. It was merely… unexpected at this time.”
“Your crewmates mentioned it here and there, though without telling me it all, implying it was not their place to tell.” She took another breath. “Similar to how you waited for me to feel comfortable before telling part of my story.” Della popped an ice cube into her beak and crunched.
McCloud nodded. “And I appreciate that. I take it Peppy took his time in telling you of his story.”
“That is correct. I thought now might be a good time, even in sparse detail. Haven't exactly felt a right time until now.”
Della figured not everything would be told. I know I haven’t told them all the full details of my story, nor them to me. But trust is a balance. I am glad we can acknowledge and care for one another through what we do tell.
“I’m not asking for your full story,” Della added. “Just thought a question or two now could get the process going, to know each better as crewmates.”
McCloud nodded. “Yes, I do believe that is fair. To be on team Star Fox is to know and be part of each other's stories. Otherwise, we would not know what is right together. And to not be together is not be a team.”
“Even as an official member, it’ll take me months to accommodate to the basics.” Slightly swerving from the initial conversation starter felt natural.
“Even Krystal took some time, even, uh, with my help,” McCloud admitted, which Della suspected came with a light blush. “So, uh, any other questions for me?”
“No, just one for now,” the duck said, sighing in relief. “Later is better.:
“Moving on then,” McCloud acknowledged. “Did Peppy’s speech knock anything in?”
Della’s mood soured a bit at the stinging reminder of her momentary anger.
“Yeah, it helps me realize that, despite my pain, I am not alone. Took a few minutes for that to sink in. Others struggle too, ya know? Even so, sitting here, I still feel lost. Doing this means…”
Loss of words happened as her streak of positivity abruptly fell into shambles. It came crashing down all over again.
“Means committing to the reality of it, I know,” McCloud interjected. “Trust me, I understand you, Della. The idea of permanently losing all you know… it isn’t pretty.”
A few more tears streaked from nowhere. McCloud’s spinny chair clattered across the floor, and a hefty paw gripped her shoulder in reassurance. Finding herself from decent to depressed in mere seconds–unfathomable.
“Let it out, Della, let it out.” Given he was closer, his voice was softer.
Della’s fingers pressed tighter together. “It means… I might never see my boys… I failed Scrooge’s trust in me! I hate myself for it!” Mangled half-sobs erupted through the sudden yells.
“You made a mistake, Della, but do not let it define you. I blamed myself for my father’s death, Peppy even more so, even though neither of us had fault. We both might have prevented it. But we can not undo it, whatever our ultimate role may have been.”
“How… how do you manage? How did you manage? How do I manage?”
“Not a day escapes me that I do not think about my father. I had looked up to him always, a hero to the galaxy, aspiring to his inspiring.”
“And here you are…” Della calmed a bit, loosening her arms to her sides again.
“Even though we take money, Della, even though it may seem to be a job, I lead Star Fox to fight only for justice. My chosen path.”
“Then what do I do… I have nothing here…”
“That I cannot answer. You must choose your own path, whether it is with us or amongst the stars that may lead to your planet.” He lifted his paw and rolled back, though not as far as he’d been. “You may never be a mother, you may never see home again. I know this is harsh, given your current emotional state, but you must recognize it.”
Della felt the urge to yell against McCloud’s unpredicted onslaught on her predicament but felt too weak to.
McCloud toned down, perhaps realizing he had fast-tracked his aesop for Della. “I know you expect and want comfort from me, and not this grim reminder. I am truly empathetic to you. Wallowing, however, will not help you. Only you can rise up, Della, and become the Della you want to be. This is your true test, the test’s true purpose.”
“I thought… this test was to evaluate me for joining you?” Della asked in confusion.
“Whether you join Star Fox, or not, is up to you,” McCloud bypassed the question. “I want to help you. We all want to help you. But in the end, only you can help yourself the most. You must be healed, and you must be ready to join us. You must leave this test knowing what you will do. It might be an odd way to help others, but we’ve found it effective.”
“I thought you said healing takes time.” She took a gulp of water.
“It does, Della, it does. It took me some years to fully reconcile. But, you also need to be realistic about how long you take to decide. It’s a hard balance. I took to mercenary work for both practical and emotional reasons. To honor my father, and pay his loan, tripling it in purpose, in memory, and in justice.”
“That’s it, take initiative, is your lesson?” Della’s legs swung with light furor. “All this time, that’s what you’ve been saying?”
McCloud’s demeanor shifted to be a bit more pleasant. “Yes, that is right, Della. I am here when you need a shoulder to cry on, but I am also here to stick to you to stand up for yourself and move on without carrying on. As my dad, James, would have put it, and to simplify Peppy’s words: ‘Move on, but remember. Hush the fire, but maintain the ember.’”
“I… see…” Della said in a neutral tone.
So, being on team Star Fox requires a fair share of kindness and practicality.
Analyzing how they compromised in their life over the past month had been part of her mental note-taking.
It wouldn't hurt for me to take a similar approach. My boys, my home, and my family are now my past…
Della sniffled.
… Now they, space trips, and genuine piloting and fighting might be my future. How does one take time to resolve a conundrum? And yet, I must make a choice to not wallow my life away.
More memories funneled in as she drifted from McCloud’s lecture.
—-
Without warning, the seeming tranquility of the storm erupted. Except, this time, arcs of sparks of teal and violet light flashed together alongside the lightning. Natural fireworks in space, now that was a sight to behold. Della took to flying around the small flings of hail to minimize damage to her ship. Wherever she was heading, she’d need as many resources intact as possible. Though, would she make it, past this never-ending cosmic storm?
Della shook her head, ridding herself of any last tingles of self-doubt. She'd deal with her decisions and their consequences when she was out of this hot cosmic soup. They’d have a family discussion and laugh it all off in a year or two. Oh, and lots of therapy too. Uncle Scrooge could pay for it if he could afford a prototype rocket. Letting out a weak smile, Della powered on in the Spear of Selene.
Reinvigorated, Della had one idea. She noticed the sparks of colored light appeared to spiral around her and were narrowing into decreasingly small bands. Her navigation was shot. After trying to fly by sight, she had gotten nowhere. Ice threatened to creep up her veins. How was she supposed to go anywhere, much less survive, if she didn't know where she was? By improvising, of course. Docking herself at the end of this light trail might help discern a path. Accordingly, Della directed the ship to its center of activity.
Even though this area had dangerously increased levels of storm events, nothing could stop Della Duck. Not even this dastardly excuse of a light shower, with a meager electrical current, would prevent her iron will. So, Della flew through, evading obliteration. The storm gradually thickened. The battering grew worse. The alluring auroras continued to light a way forward. Even with her great skill, she struggled to keep up. Against that, though, Della believed it was her ticket out. Fear crept up once more, pulsing, waiting to strike. It would never get to do so
A distant memory of a flight with an old owl friend came through her head. Lyze or whatever their name was mattered not. Della knew not why it flowed to the forefront of her thoughts, but it did.
“See that pocket, Della? See it. It's there.”
Their ratcheted voice echoed in her forehead. She swore something was appearing alright.
“Go for it.”
Della clutched the steering. A shimmering wave of blue-white bubbled on the horizon.
“That's it!”
A strange calm came over Della. The strange light grew into a bright turquoise, outshining the storm as she drew closer.
“Use your instincts, Della, let them guide you.”
Enormous chunks of ice thudded into her windshield, and concerning cracks began conjoining. She could almost taste the air leaking out.
“Trust them!”
Della reached into a compartment and pulled out the emergency reserve of endless-nutritional black licorice. Stuffing the wad into her beak was the most disgusting thing she had ever done.
I'm going to talk with Gyro when I get back!
“Fly inside.”
Ignoring it all, against her mind’s rationale, she flew for it. It soon engulfed her entire field of view.
Suddenly, a violent strike launched itself into the thrusters in an arc of agony for the ship. With an explosion, Della and the ship rocketed forward. Her face smashed into the control panel, and her beak smelled of smoke. Shrapnel lightly prodded above her eyelids, small metal pieces in her already cut forehead. Somehow, nothing had entered her eyes. No matter. She could fly. Blind.
Aimlessly hurtling, the ship further groaned under the storm’s tension. Metal groaned from the stress of wind tearing in every which direction. The internal structure grew weak. Flames licked her feet, welding them to the floor. The pain mattered not. She would die, or she would live. Della would go with whatever force guided her.
Breathe, Della, and think.
And so, she did.
There was no doubt she'd need the rocket manual; wherever she was heading. No point in letting it burn while she ejected. Blindly fumbling with one hand, she found it and stuffed it into her jacket. Returning her hand just in time, she knew she had managed to a near hit with a bad spot in the storm system, whatever it may contain.
Knowing not much time was left, Della hurried her efforts. She contorted her blazing legs into place and set the flaps to dive in an upward curve. With all her might, she steered through the blinding light as it grew in intensity. Then, the light grew fainter and fainter, as her ship propelled faster and faster out of her control. It felt an odd zen, burning, blind, believing in herself, beholden to fate’s hand, blipping across space.
Without warning, her ship slammed into another craft. That much she could deduce before her head slammed into her control board. This time, it came with the darkness. An odd sort, considering she felt bliss. Whomever she crashed into, Della knew need would their help.
—
Awake.
Della opened her eyes. Though blurry, she could see endless sparkles in the void. Endless beauties of the cosmos enlightened themselves to her. A small smile formed.
Then, she realized where she was. Fear flickered on, ruining the mood. Here she was. Alone. Floating, in the middle of nothingness. Half burnt to a crisp. Nobody to help her.
She heard… nothing. Abhorrent silence. Nothingness. She felt light as a feather, for all her feathers, her broken limbs floating free. No air. Her lungs attempted to find it, but there was none. Cold. Beyond belief, her blood began to feel warm from boiling.
Was this what her valiance rewarded her? An isolated death, away from all she’d known? What use was the effort in the storm for, if it amounted to nothing? The seconds felt a molasses.
Closing her eyes, Della gave in… but not before, on the very edge of the last smudge of vision, white-gray blurs came into view. Flipping herself around, even though it pushed her further away, an airless gasp coughed its way out.
She saw them descending to her, long lines attaching their space suits to the inside of their mother ship's airlock. Not far from it, she spotted the flaming wreckage of the Spear of Selene lodged in its side. She had remembered to eject in her delirium. Even she could place that amount of faith in herself. So, there was someone here after all. They had looked out for her, even though she thought she was alone, and crashed into their vehicle. They’d bothered checking for survivors.
Swiftly, they had reached her. A blue falcon, a frog, and a fox descended, their metallic boots gleaming from the bright lights they shone on her. Joy spread as her body began to give out from lack of oxygen. There will always be someone there for you if you simply look around.
Della grabbed a passing metal chunk and hurled herself forward, using her last bit of strength. She’d have to help herself as well. Projecting herself toward them resulted in a lurch as intended. They reached her. Garbled, scratchy talking rang out from their helmet radios.
Cold, leather gloves with metal padding attached themselves to her. A soft, plastic mask sealed itself around her beak. Greedily, Della immediately gulped enormous amounts of oxygen. Blood began to properly circulate. The anesthetic seeped its way into her system.
“Peppy,” the fox sounded through the helmet once he was close enough, “We’ve got her. Go ahead and take care of the fire. Krystal, maintain the autocannons. We’ll handle it from here…”
Della faded once more as they reeled her in.
—
Della, committed to keeping her eyes closed to maintain a half-facade of facing herself, took a deep breath. The metal pendulums that were her legs came to a stop. She splayed her hands on the bench’s top and leaned back. She had to relax if she was going to do this.
To win the fight against herself, she had to become one with herself. A swig of water contributed to calming down from the earlier metronome of her emotions. The water was crisp, cool, and malleable to her beak’s confines, able to flow as anything asked of it. Such was the state of Della’s attunement.
The whirring of the door broke Della away from her plane of thought. The near-silent ruffling feathers meant the only other avian on the crew was here to pay a visit. The tall, blue, occasionally gruff, and straight-to-the-point Falco. Della had found both of them enjoyed eating in the officially designated cafeteria, so they had spent most of their conversation ammunition there. Exchanging tactics for emergencies proved effective in getting to know one another. He’d also given her the most tours around the ship.
“I didn’t know everyone was visiting me today,” Della greeted. “I would have thought the official test to be more dignified, and well, contained.”
“There is no ‘official’ induction, Della,” Falco bluntly stated. “We cater it as we see fit. You are along my path, and there is no rule against visitation.”
Della called his bluff. “You just don’t like to admit you care about your friends, you blue softie.”
“I was on my way to double-check supply data and catalogs.” Falco entirely dodged the accusation in addition to changing the subject.
Grinning inwardly, Della willingly succumbed to the switch. “I do wonder what Peppy was doing then. McCloud is overseeing my test, however long it’s taken so far.”
“How long your tested has lasted, I cannot say nor tell,” he said, answering a question she had hardly asked. “Krystal and Slippy are repairing quivers in our weakest engine. Peppy does as Peppy is. Always a mystery what it is, but our ship runs, so I cannot complain. Everything is running as smoothly as scheduled.”
“Not so much anymore, heh,” McCloud quipped, whilst slowly spinning in his chair, a constant creaking conveyed, pretending not to be privy to their conversation.
“Including a time break to stop by and be nice,” Della snarked quickly, “But I digress. How do you do?”
“I am rather fine, thank you,” he spoke. “And you?”
“Figuring myself out, and garnering the resolve to do this test. It’s a turmoil of up and down.” Della lightly laughed. “I believe I may be ready soon.”
Falco gave a few claps. “Preparing yourself to do it is half the test alone, Della. Commencing it is the other quarter. Doing it is the final quarter.”
“It’s simple, and yet so tough,” Della said. “How did any of you go through it?”
“Only Krystal has done it; the rest of us are original,” Falco informed. “It was built to be a psychological test for all new members. Physical, emotional, and skill requirements are already passed if we get to know you well enough.”
“Whether it is my or your fortune for me to be a pilot is the true question.”
Della pondered the chances she would crash into a mothership through a cosmic storm wormhole, much less one containing a crew of pilots as skilled as she.
“The universe works its ways,” the falcon mused. “Your survival, McCloud’s struggles, Krystal’s escape, Peppy being alive, me being an ace pilot, Slippy being an excellent mechanic and qualified flyer, among our foremost challenges in life.”
The falcon, Della could tell, deeply thought about fate constantly. “Is it my fate to be here, do you think?”
“Perhaps,” the blue avian acknowledged. “However, though it may be by chance you are here, do not discount your role in saving yourself. You are reliable and strong.”
“I mean, I was more so lucky, but thanks. Not so sure about reliability, but I do have strengths in many things I do.”
Being called “reliable” struck her as cringe in light of her being here was her mistake. It hardly felt deserving.
“Everyone makes mistakes. Do not let them define you,” Falco advised. “Even the most organized, consistent people can slip up.”
“That… is true,” she admitted with a pause for thought. “Doesn’t make it any less forgetful.”
He furthered his message. “Don’t let it get to you, Della. Learning from your mistakes is part of the journey. I shall now leave you to continue yours. Nice talking to you.”
“Later Falco.”
With that, the door whirred open and closed again, swallowing Falco as he left, metal boots sounding in the hallway before the sound evaporated. McCloud became ceaseless of his spinning and sat, presumably reading a book. The air unit for the room kicked on and cooled the room. Its brushing of the air complemented the gentle feeling of the near-quiet, relaxing atmosphere that had settled in. She felt her heart beat steadily and smoothly. It was the soothing mood of waking up from an operation.
That thought, incidentally, brought up another memory.
—
She didn’t feel right. The nagging of a missing component to herself woke her up. Stinging heat no long lingered in her searing flesh. Cuts from metal, lashes from launching into the mothership, scratches from broken glass, all… gone. Why couldn’t she place it? A good yawn, stretch, and awakening of her nerves would do it. And an extremely copious ration of water. Bandages wrapped themselves around her stitched, wounded forehead.
Opening her eyes, she took stock of the room around her whilst greedily seizing a gulp of air. The pure chrome floor complemented the white walls. The wall to her right had a metal shutter that could rise and fall. Various medical equipment, in stages of left out and put away, stood awry around her soft cot. It amounted to a half-dressed surgery room. Certainly, it was an improvement from burning in space. Her white clothing felt alright.
So, why did it all feel wrong when all seemed right?
Della swung her arms to walk, seeing as she was just fine. She almost fell off the cot as the shock plunged her numb feelings beyond the event horizon. With a blood-curdling scream, Della pulled herself back into a lying state, heart pounding. Her years of adventuring flashed, the number of times they’d all nearly died, Donald, Scrooge, and her, and an occurring realization of, though it was truly family fun, it had been chock-full of danger they’d escaped unscathed save occasional bruises of dislocations. This time, she had paid the price.
At that moment, she knew what was wrong. In one accident and one moment, years of blissfully ignoring, shaving off responsibilities to wager her life on fun, growing old without growing up, the positive attitude she kept up to tangibly deal with it while also putting those thoughts off, neatly settled in. A gaping pit of an unknown feeling, and yet every feeling at once, poured in. Della glanced at herself, barely able to muster the courage for a second peek. It was no less a shock, nor were her eyes less frozen.
Both of her legs were now half-stumps, ending below the knee.`
It was logical that she would be injured from the inferno the storm put her in. Her legs had been burnt pretty badly compared to most of herself. Crashing head first into the mothership and ejecting would’ve been an enormous stress for them to bear. All things considered, that the rest of her was in one piece might be a miracle.
Patched scratches and stitches stirred abound her aching body. The neck began a cramp as soon as she lifted herself on her palms. None of that compared to the curious dread Della felt. To nearly miss losing a limb was a rush of adventure. To lose half of both your legs produced a loss of oneself.
Juggling those thoughts drove Della’s complementation of her current plight. Discovering a large chunk of herself, her very being, gone was a nightmarish haze. She knew it was true, accepting it at the moment, but deeply wished it wasn’t so. Della stared at the metal caps her rescuers had placed at the end of her stunted limbs. They were part of her already. Wiggling her half-legs, a sick feeling erupted in her stomach. Lightly, she touched the cold caps and the healing skin encircling them. It’d be a long time before feathers grew in length to cover them.
She had vowed to herself to live on, to survive. In contrast, no preparation or expectation could compensate for being a double amputee.
As she was contemplating this, the metal shutter rose. Eyes snapping to the glass window, Della froze and observed her new compatriots. Given they’d bothered saving her life, they were her friends already. A tall, blue falcon stood tall and proud. An elder hare bore a grin and nodded as if approving of her recovery personally. The funky-looking frog was… cheerful. The fox, the first one she’d seen, saluted her. Lastly, the blue fox beside him bowed.
We hope you are feeling well. A female voice sounded in Della’s mind. The blue fox gave a sliver of a smile. How are you feeling after your surgery?
For this, Della had no experience or imperative. Between the incoming thoughts of she was far from home, she had no way back, her ship was shattered, she’s betrayed her entire family, she’d committed the worst mistake in her entire life, she’d nearly died a dozen times over, she’d lost half of both her legs, these people saved her for some reason, were they actually all that nice–
And did she just speak into my mind? Telepathy she’d encountered on her adventures before, but it did not fit in well from the rush of emotion.
The frog spoke into a small box that carried through to the speakers in the white room.
“Welcome back to consciousness, Mrs. Della,” he greeted with a high and bright tone. “We decided it’d be best to give you some space to wake up to.”
With that, Della cracked.
She let out a second, far intenser, scream.
—
She remembered the rush of reassurance they delivered to calm her down. Della pressed her hand to her forehead, remembering the massive headaches that had haunted her for a few days.
Between the disorientation and hunger, it was another miracle she was soon up and about. She’d gone scurrying to help out across the ship the moment Slippy engineered her a crude set of spring-based legs. Swinging her stumps on the edge of her cot and holding herself steady was a fun challenge in the few hours that took. One-handed was strenuous but doable after some practice. Healing required gargantuan amounts of nutrition, for which her diet surpassed the current crew rations.
From the moment of waking up, Della’s course in life changed from one adventure to another. With loss came pain, came friends came to gain. By her actions, she’d rocketed her destiny from mother-to-be to mother-in-flee-and-return. Vain as it may be, hope at least remained to journey home someday. From Lylat to Earth, a path’s existence would reveal in due time. For now, she had to accept her mistake and make the best out of her luck. Reflecting back, Della came to her choice.
It brought a silent smile as she opened her eyes. Della felt better than when she entered this room, after these gushes and rushes of conflicting feelings. Deep breaths in and out further brought her bliss. Of this, McCloud took notice, sitting up straight on his chair. Whether it had been a couple of hours or four or more, she felt almost normal again. Miniscule bouts of nervousness pinged here and there. One figurative step at a time, one intake of words at a time, one person at a time, had brought her here today, to be ready at last.
Team Star Fox, I thank you for saving my life, your generosity, for believing in me, and for pushing me forward to do what I need to do to move on with my life… I shall now accept my place amongst the best pilots in the galaxy.
Swinging forth, Della released her fingers’ grip on the bench. Eyes stared forth strongly. Her heart beat with might. The air unit caused her hair to slightly billow. Brushing the dust off her baggy, thigh-length pants took a minute. Feeling presentable in authenticating herself mattered; McCloud being the only other observer didn’t. Preserving its preciousness in her memory prepared it as the ultimate priority. Clearing her throat took another amount of time. A sip from her glass satisfied, refilled by Fox during her remembrances.
You can do this, Della, you can do this, believe in yourself.
Muffled sounds of thrusters exploding, effectively destroying her legs, rang in her ears. She imagined them as the thrusters of her Arwing launching from the mothership into battle.
Inhale, exhale. Della stepped froth from the bench. Her legs, her newest and third set of metal legs, clanked with the force she set them down. This pair featured design elements of the unofficial team boot. If she didn’t join, they’d have served as a reminder of Star Fox for the rest of her travels.
However, now they would represent her as part of them. Her uniform was a mix between their unofficial team style and a trunk of her now old pilot clothes salvaged from amongst the wreckage. Della’s brown eyes fixated into a steely state at the leader of the team, who had put away the manual he’d been lazily reading.
Della stood up, full weight resting upon her prosthetics. One right step, one left step. Another right step, another left step. Two more of each, then another two. One step right. Final step left.
Back straight and gazing directly and diagonally above into the captain’s eyes. Fox stood straight, to officially accept her. While she had previously been only a meter, the wormhole had stretched her to be one-meter point three seven one six meters, about four and a half feet. Thus, she was the second-shortest crew member, towering above Slippy.
“I,” Della spoke loud and clear, “Declare myself to be ready, loyal, and proficient to accompany Star Fox as a full-fledged member, to fight for truth, justice, and what is right to the best of my ability in all missions that we accept under that purpose. To each other, we will show trust and honor, and partake as lights in each other's darkest moments.”
No pause took place as she recited from memory.
“I am the eyes in the void, the silence within the space, the fire that shall enlighten hope for all. I swear myself to the ideals of Star Fox. This will be life, this will be my vow, this will be who I am.”
McCloud took Della’s hand and shook, his toothy smile gleaming. “Welcome to Star Fox, Della Duck, as pilot number six. You have passed your test.”
He handed her a blueprint schematic, ending the shake.
“Slippy’s put together a plan. Let’s fix you up a non-standard Arwing.”
The door whirred open. Della wiped her sweaty palm on her scarf, and followed him out, to her new future in the Lylat System and beyond.
—
The skies of Corneria City rushed past as a dark red prototype Arwing fusion model rocketed by. Shining in the sunlight, the salty seawater sprayed as it dipped its right wing up and skimmed the left wing over the water. Compared to the usual blue and gray, this unique production featured quite some differences
A trifecta of fins stood on the back, one long and tall, in the middle behind the co*ckpit, and two flanking ones as angled plates. A second set of upward-folded wings rested underneath the usual triangular wings. The underbelly was more hull-like, and twin fins stuck out by the jet engines. Maneuvering this way helped practice for true combat.
Della loved every inch of it.
Through the green visor over her left eye, Della admired the scenic view of the city to her left. Urban settlements of gray metal dotted around tall and luscious mountains of a brown-sandy color. The entirety of the interconnected settlements, surrounded by the calm Cornerian Sea, centered around an hourglass-shaped shaped command center, the top bigger than the bottom. The female pilot then looked to the left to see the many sparsely inhabited islands next to and far from the city. It was a beautiful day to fly.
Della took a deep breath and refocused. Her nimble fingers shapely shifted the controls up and to the right. From the angled stance, the ship jerked in the opposite direction and banked up then down in a spiral before Della counter-banked to complete the corkscrew arc. Feeling less jiggly meant she was gradually growing to the quirky movements of the new Spear of Selene. She then steered to grow up in a steady climb and then slowly back down to restabilize. Next, Della throttled the speed to shoot over the water’s surface, both high and low.
When she was a good height and speed, somewhat away from the city, Della rotated the Arwing in a full circle twice over, ending up in a diagonal adjacent to where she had been.
“I just did a barrel roll!” she cheered into the comms channel.
“Good work, Della.” McCloud’s voice crackled back. “It was a bit imprecise, so you can try soon. We do need you back now, as a strange anomaly-”
A purple hole suddenly blasted itself above the hourglass structure. Della sharply turned around to reach the mothership in orbit, rapidly rising
“Like that?”
“Yeah, like that. Now hurry, so we equip you. Over.”
As Della soared back, machines of war poured from the swirling gate in the sky. Luckily, team Star Fox was here to protect the citizens. For the first time, in a truly long time, Della felt herself smile in excitement. This was her chance to both be an ace pilot and have an adventure proper. And, if anything, if someone could build an army-delivering gate like that, and she found them, perhaps, just perhaps, she could make it home someday.
Eyes focused on the Star Fox mothership, Della burst through the atmosphere, ready to missile stock, enemy load and lock, and blast them smithereens. Jubilation flowed in her blood.
