Krystal kept one ear towards the door, but she neither heard nor sensed anyone approaching, and she returned her attention to the computer screen. It felt like the progress bar had been at 99% for half the time she'd been waiting...

Finally, the transfer completed, and she ejected the data stick, slipping it into the survival pack strapped around her waist. 'Objective secured', she quickly typed out on her wrist communicator, 'Exiting now.' A reply came back from Slippy a moment later, a curt 'Acknowledged', and Krystal turned off the screen.

Getting out would be easier than getting in, but still difficult. Yes, she had the encryption keys that the Star Fox team needed, but if she was detected at all, they'd change the keys and the whole mission would be for nothing. For that reason she didn't even have her staff; if worst came to worst she'd just have to run for it, but it would be better not to have it getting in the way.

She paused at the door, closing her eyes, focusing on the people closest to her at the base. Her abilities as an empath made her a natural choice for the mission, even if it meant going in alone in her flight suit with only a fanny pack's worth of supplies. But since the rest of them tended to be a little too trigger-happy for a mission like this, it was best for her to handle it herself...

Detecting no adversaries nearby, she opened the door and slipped into the empty corridor. If she could just make it back to the air vent she had entered through, she could get back outside. She ran quickly and quietly down the corridor to the next corner, sensing nobody close by, and peeked around the corner to confirm it before progressing. In the next corridor she had to duck into a side closet to let someone pass, but they carried on without suspecting a thing. As long as she took her time...

Halfway down the next corridor, a patrol up ahead suddenly changed direction and began approaching the far end of the hallway she was in. There was no cover at all big enough for her to hide behind, and she was too far to just turn around and go back; even if she did, she could sense another patrol approaching from that general direction. She tried the door closest to her, but it was locked. Panicking, she dashed to the opposite side of the corridor. There was someone up ahead that she could sense, but they were alone – one person was definitely less of a risk than getting pincered by patrols. So, crouching down and getting ready to dash for cover, she pressed the buttons on the panel next to the door.

It opened with a soft hiss, and Krystal let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as she slipped inside just as the sound of heavy boots became audible from the far end of the corridor.

The door took her into a hangar, the ceiling far higher than the other rooms she had been in to accommodate the fighter craft that were lined up. It smelled heavily of oil, and the sound of her footsteps was lost among the echoing sound of active power tools somewhere ahead of her. Yet it wasn't nearly as large as Krystal would have expected, with only eight bays, and only two of them occupied. She hadn't heard an announcement to scramble the fighters and the team would have told her if they'd been detected, so what was going on? She ducked behind a stack of barrels nearby to take stock of the situation, peering around the barrel she was crouched behind for a better look.

On closer inspection she saw that the two fighters were both heavily damaged, and there was one vulpine mechanic securing a replacement panel onto the side of the furthest fighter, standing on a ladder and with a wheeled tool rack next to it. Of course – this was just a repair hangar, not the main hangar. Krystal relaxed again, crouching back down into her hiding place and checking her communicator.

'Watch out,' a message said, 'Whatever they were doing outside is over. The soldiers are going back inside.'

Krystal frowned and pressed on the screen to acknowledge. That explained the increase in patrols. She was hidden from the rest of the hangar, but would be immediately spotted if anyone came into the hangar from the door behind her, so she would have to move to a better spot.

But where? If she moved further into the hangar to hide herself from the doors, then the mechanic would only need to turn around to spot her. And she couldn't knock him out, or it would raise suspicion. There were upper walkways too, so even if she found a better-placed group of barrels or crates to hide behind she would be visible from higher up. She needed an elevated position that didn't require her to go past the mechanic...

Of course – the other fighter! It wasn't going anywhere any time soon: its sides were heavily scorched, exposing wires underneath, and one of its tail fins had been blown off entirely. The cockpit was closed, but she might still be able to get inside if she was careful enough...

She waited for just a moment until the mechanic's power tool started up again, and then made her break for it. She dashed over to the closer fighter and climbed up its front, stopping and hiding. The mechanic's tool went quiet, and Krystal remained in place until he started it up again; quickly, she pressed the release to open the cockpit up. The hydraulics hissed as the canopy lifted, but the noise was completely drowned out by the mechanic, who was still fully engrossed in securing the panel he was working on. Quickly, Krystal pulled her body up and slipped under the front of the canopy glass and into the cockpit of the fighter, then pushed a button to close the canopy glass, the sound of hydraulics still muted by the echoing racket of the mechanic's power tools.

So far, so good. And not a moment too soon; she could sense a group of five approaching from one of the upper hallways. Krystal hunched down inside of the cockpit, hidden behind the side panels and with the seat and the area behind it obscuring her from view.

The group arrived, and Krystal heard shouting, slightly muffled by the closed cockpit. She didn't want to risk being seen, so she didn't look at who it was, but they sounded like they were in command, demanding that the ships be repaired as soon as possible. Security was to be increased; they expected "one of General Pepper's pets" to interfere. Krystal couldn't help but smirk to herself as she slouched down inside of the fighter – if only they knew...

That group left, but the mechanic remained, ratcheting, welding, and screwing. Krystal needed a new way out – if the base patrols had been increased, she couldn't possibly get back to her original entry point. Raising her wrist communicator, she sent off a request, telling them where she was. Slippy had blueprints of the place, right?

'Give me some time, Krystal,' came the reply, and she settled in. Nothing to do but wait.

Unfortunately, waiting gave her the chance to consider other problems she was facing – not just how to get out undetected, but also that since she had been dropped in deeper into the jungle to avoid detection and had had a long walk after that, it had been an awfully long time since she had last relieved herself up on the Great Fox. She had been sipping from a now-deflated hydration pack as well to deal with the humidity of the jungle around the base she had infiltrated, and all of that meant that, with her mind no longer elsewhere, her attention was brought to the pressure in her lower abdomen.

If she made it back out to the jungle it would be no issue, but how long would that take? Shifting up to sit properly on the pilot's seat, Krystal crossed her legs, staring at the screen on her communicator in annoyance, wishing Slippy would hurry up...

Her ears flicked as she heard the mechanic climbing down from his ladder, and she slouched down again out of sight. If he left, that would give her the perfect opportunity to escape. She felt her communicator vibrate slightly and glanced at the screen; Slippy had another way out for her. Perfect. It'd involve another air vent, but she was good at squeezing through tight spaces. Now she just needed-

A thump against the side of the fighter she was in made her ears stand up and her tail fur fluff out. Had she been detected? She could sense the mechanic getting closer, climbing up his ladder. And she didn't even have a weapon...!

He stopped, and Krystal peeked upwards, expecting to see him looking in at her, but there was nobody there. Then, she heard scraping against the side of the craft, and the power tool again, much louder from being so much closer. Her ears splayed as she relaxed; he was just working on the fighter she was hiding in.

And then she tensed up again. He was working on the fighter she was hiding in. There was absolutely no way she could escape while he was there!

Krystal focused on trying to keep her breathing even and shallow, but it was a hard battle, especially with having to keep her legs pressed together the whole time. She felt every vibration of the ship whenever the mechanic did something to the fuselage, and she was afraid to move even an inch for fear of making any sound at all. Her wrist communicator vibrated gently and she glanced at it, seeing a message: she hadn't acknowledged the last message, and they wanted an update.

'Pinned down,' she typed slowly, gently brushing her fingers against each of the letters on the screen one at a time. 'Will update later.'

She settled back into place, only to wince as her bladder reminded her again of its fullness. She should have taken care of it before leaving the jungle! Her hands gripped the seat and she squirmed in place, trying to think about something else, anything else. But the only other thing nearby was the mechanic, and thinking about him made her nervous. All it would take was one quick glance in the cockpit and her cover would be blown...

She heard him grunt and something clattered onto the ground. The mechanic gave a displeased sound, and then after a moment she heard him speak in a gruff, gravelly voice. "Hey."

Krystal's whole body froze, her fur standing on end. She'd been caught.

"Yeah, it's me. Can you check inventory, see if you've got a spare T5-7D G-Diffuser over there?"

Her tension released, though she kept her legs squeezed tightly against one another. No, she hadn't been caught. He was radioing someone else.

"Good. I need a replacement. ...yes, immediately. We need these fighters ready ASAP. Commander's orders. ...roger, I'll come by and pick it up. Thanks."

To her immense relief she heard him climbing down the ladder. She sensed him getting further away as his footsteps grew fainter, and then, finally, heard the door open as he left.

That was one problem taken care of. But how long would he be gone for? She had no idea where the spare parts were kept. She focused on keeping track of him as he moved further away, but it was difficult with the protests of her bladder. It was getting unbearable. She'd have to take care of her need soon – especially if she was going to be crawling around in small air vents.

Krystal sat up a little bit and looked around the hangar. Could she really afford to make a side trip to the bathrooms? There were patrols all over the corridors now. She might be able to find a spot in the hangar somewhere, but if the mechanic came back while she was taking care of business, she'd be spotted immediately. She needed a spot that would go unnoticed and...

She winced again as she felt a pang in her abdomen. If she didn't find a spot soon she'd be spraying the inside of the fighter!

...but... what if she did that deliberately? It was a safe spot, and she would be out of sight if the mechanic came back quickly. Nobody would be flying it soon, at least, not for a few days at the earliest, and it would surely be dry by then. Her legs trembled; she had to figure out something fast, and it was the best option available.

The mechanic was still moving away, so she reached down and pushed the bottom part of her flight suit downwards, sliding the tight blue and black material down her thighs, until it was bunched up behind her knees. She thought of trying to squat in the gap between the seat and controls, but it would be better to keep on the lookout for anyone coming in; some other patrol might show up while the mechanic was away. So instead she lifted her legs upwards and scooted forward to sit at the very edge of the chair, shifting about to get her tail off to one side. Glancing out of the side of the canopy, she held her left thigh with her left hand to keep her legs up, while her right gripped the middle of her tail to hold it out of the way.

It was now or never. Krystal took a deep breath to relax, keeping a wary gaze on the doors leading into the hangar. It was nearly dead silent inside of the cockpit – at least until she began her release and a stream of nearly-clear fluid gushed from her slit, briefly striking the seat before clearing it and landing on the floor of the cockpit instead. She panicked momentarily as she heard the thump of her pee against the pleather seat followed by the drumming of it on the metal floor. But there was nobody else in the hangar, so nobody would hear it – she just had to finish before anyone came back.

She trembled a little as she held her position, swaying a little as she relieved herself. The pressure in her bladder waned and she considered stopping early, but she had already made the mess – the mechanic was still far away, so she elected to keep going. Sparing a glance down, she saw that her puddle was spreading across the metal floor, reaching the sides and front edge of the gap between the seat and controls, her stream and the droplets breaking off from it all raining down and splashing in it. The fighter was spaceflight-capable, wasn't it? So surely that meant the cabin was sealed, right? The last thing she needed was for her urine to drip through and cause problems that the mechanic would find...

Her eyes returned to the doors, and though she could sense a patrol approaching, they passed by without entering. A soft groan left her as her stream began to taper off, still making a racket as it struck the floor of the cockpit, sending droplets spraying along the bottom parts of the inner panels. The last part of her stream struck the very front of the seat again, and she gave a soft sigh of relief as she finished up, clenching her muscles to force out the last few spurts – it wasn't like it would make any appreciable difference to the mess at this point.

Without lowering her legs, she let go of her tail and opened up the survival pack around her waist. Among the (awful-tasting) food packs and survival tools was a folded length of toilet paper. 'Just in case', she'd been told, and she needed it now. Unfolding a bit of it and tearing off two squares at a time to fold them back over, she wiped her inner thighs and slit dry, carelessly crumpling them and tossing them into her puddle. She took another pair of squares to dry up the underside of one thigh where the pee that had hit the seat had gotten her a little wet, and she threw those squares down with the first as well, zipping the survival pack back up afterwards.

With one emergency care of, she decided to make her escape immediately both to take the opportunity while the mechanic was away, and to avoid having to spend time around the mess she had made. Not wanting to put her feet in her own puddle, she awkwardly stuck her feet through the gap between the canopy window and the fuselage and wiggled her way out with her flight suit bottom still around her knees. The mechanic had left his ladder in place, so she placed her feet on it, tugged her lower garment back up, then finished climbing back down. Her suit wasn't perfectly straightened, but it would be good enough for now.

She ran as fast as she could for the far end of the hangar, where there was a large grate covering an air vent. Carefully pulling it off, she backed into the vent and then tugged the grate into place again, crawling backwards through the vent until she was able to reach a T-junction where she could turn and face the right way. From there, she just had to follow Slippy's directions until she reached a vent opening near a door, and then she could escape...

--------------------

Krystal gripped the seat as Fox took off in the shuttle from the exfiltration point, heading back up to orbit where the Great Fox was waiting. "Looks like we're in the clear," he announced from the cockpit. "Great job, Krystal. Sorry for sending you in all on your own, but you handled it just fine."

"It was no trouble," Krystal said dismissively. "Going solo for a mission like this makes more sense, anyway."

"Agreed. And you made sure not to leave any trace that you were there, right?"

She was about to answer, and then remembered what she had done in the damaged fighter. She'd barely thought of it at the time, except to reassure herself that it would dry before it was noticed. But what if it was? Then again... they wouldn't know it was her, or at least, an intruder. Then she remembered the tissues, and silently cursed herself for being so careless. On the other hand, even if they were found in time, and someone deduced that someone else had peed in there, that wouldn't automatically tell them there had been an intruder, right? She was worrying too much, surely...

"Krystal?" Fox asked.

"Oh, sorry, what was the question? I was lost in thought," she apologized.

"You're sure you left no trace you were there, yeah?"

"Of course," she lied, glancing away, grateful that he was looking out the front window of the shuttle and not into the passenger area where she was sitting. "I'd never jeopardize the mission like that..."
