Chapter 4

Sector 7-MA | Starship Mario

Starship Mario's crew spent the next day or so assessing the ship's damage, and pounding out the dings where possible. It took concentration and teamwork to do so — the ship, they were coming to find, had taken more than a pounding during their journey through the space storm. In fact, Lubba was beginning to suspect that if their ride hadn't had reinforced bulkheads and veins of diamond-armor plating, the hyperlight flight would have crumpled them like an accordion.

Of course, they also kept looking for the missing crew members and Mario, but they were quickly losing hope on that front. By high noon that day, the crew had searched the ship top to bottom five times, and no one had seen so much as a mustache anywhere on board.

And as if that wasn't enough to put Lubba in a bad mood, all the damage reports he received from his comrades were incredibly distressing:

"Mister Lubba, sir, decompression safeties keep going on in the ventral hangar deck. We're looking for holes, but until we plug all of them, we'll be venting some of our oxygen supply into space."

"Mister Lubba, the Nav and Tactical computers are fried. We're working on repairs, but we need more data cabling."

"Mister Lubba, some of the crew members are getting sick from the gamma radiation from that nebula, and we're running low on Star Bits."

"Mister Lubba, we've checked our supplies of Power Stars, and we've found that seventy-five percent of them combusted during the hyperlight flight. Luckily, they were safely contained in storage, else the ship would be in two billion pieces by now. But with the Grand Star reaching its threshold in nuclear fusion, I estimate that our fuel reserves are now below ten percent."

That last bit of bad news was the worst of the bunch. If Lubba had ever had any doubts before, they were now assuaged: we're stranded. Without the Power Stars, Starship Mario couldn't even move at sublight, which was a catastrophe in the making. In a place as incomprehensibly vast as outer space, moving faster than light — or slightly slower than the speed of light — was the only way to actually get anywhere within ten thousand years. If they could only move using conventional engines, then...

Don't panic, don't panic...

Too late. Lubba could feel his blood-pressure rising. Quickly, he extracted himself from the group of Lumas and toads giving him, Yoshi, and Captain Toad their reports, floating from the upper deck down towards the sidewalk.

"Hey, Lubba!" Yoshi called. "Where're you going?"

To the garden. He needed to clear his head for a while.

***

Starship Mario | Brig

He must have paced his cell twenty-seven times now, but Link still couldn't see a way out of it.

"The bars are flush with the ceiling," he muttered, just in case Midna was listening. "And also with either wall. There's a narrow gap underneath, but it's much too small to even attempt to crawl under... And, needless to say, the door is locked. So what do I do?"

Midna did not reply.

Curse it. Link rubbed his forehead, trying to assuage a worsening migraine induced by cabin fever. He'd been locked in this cell for little under a day now: twelve hours ago, those creatures that had come to interrogate him had left almost as quickly as they'd come, giving him suspicious looks over their shoulders as they'd filed out of the room. Apparently, either the answers he'd provided them had been unsatisfactory — No, I don't know where Mario is. I told you! I don't know how I got here. Who the hell is Bowser? — or there was something else vying for their attention, something beyond the knob-less door. Regardless, they seemed content to let him rot in here.

Well, he, obviously, was not: Focus. Escape. You're trying to escape. No, you're going to escape. Think, Link. Think.

Yes, think. He'd been thinking a lot after his captors had left, sixty percent about escape, forty percent about the events leading up to this nonsense. But no matter how hard he concentrated, tried to put things together, his memories refused to make sense. If he tried hard, he could remember things up to a point — the Light Spirits, the mission, the Twilight and the monsters, deciding to go to Snowpeak, and, Goddess, the cold — but after that, things just fizzed out, went hazy. I went to Snowpeak and then...and then...and then...and then... The prompt had been open-ended for the past five hours. Obviously, his mind didn't want him to remember how he'd ended up in this cell, wearing these weird clothes.

Maybe the experience was traumatizing? So much so that he'd simply forgotten. He'd heard of such happening before, to war-torn veterans. It made sense.

But didn't make things any less frustrating! All right, that's enough. Back to work! You have to get out of here. He stressed that to himself: he had to escape. It wasn't an option. He was responsible for the welfare of Hyrule. The lives of the people were his responsibility: if Zant hurt anyone because he was here in this prison, going crazy over stuff he couldn't remember, that innocent blood would be on his hands.

So, taking a breath, Link once again refocused. Focused on this prison, this cell, as though it were an enemy. Yes. An enemy to be defeated. Like the Diababa. Like the Stallord. Like the King of the Shadows. And, like all enemies, this one had to have a weakness. Had to. Something that, when exploited, would compromise it. He just had to find it.

"The bars are flush with the ceiling and the walls on either side. There's a narrow gap underneath, but..."

As he muttered, his heartbeat roared in its ears, fearing that there was nothing to find. Link swallowed, trying not to give into the anxiety. But looking about, it was hard not to—over the past day, he'd all but memorized every square inch of this place, all the cracks and crannies. And, he'd found, everything about this place was fixed: the walls, the bars, the door. All immovable, unchangeable, with no holes to dig through or crooks to squeeze through.

In fact, the only variable change in this place was—

Hiss! The door slid open, admitting one of those big-headed little creatures inside. A toad, he'd called himself, though he bore no resemblance to a frog at all. If anything, under the big head growth, he looked like a human child — he certainly was as squeaky as one.

"Soup's on!" the toad said, ambling up to the bars. "Here ya go, buddy: Star Bit stew, and mashed potatoes! Savor it: we're runnin' low on the Bits, seein' as we're stuck out here in the middle of uncharted space, and it could be a while until we harvest more."

He slid the tray underneath the bars and then stepped back a respectful distance. Link came over and retrieved the food. The bowl contained a thick gruel, with hard, crystal-shaped chunks swimming below the surface. Retreating to his cot, he sipped a spoonful and nearly threw it back up. Gods! The stew was so sweet it was disgusting: Link felt as though he'd just ingested a mouthful of sugar.

Coughing, he said, "What's your name?"

The toad, who'd been ambling about by the wall, spun around, astonished. "Wow," he said, moving back towards the bars. "Ain't this a treat! So you can talk! I half figured you were mute!"

Link swallowed another spoonful of the stew, his throat spasming around the horribly sweet broth. He pressed the back of his hand to his mouth to keep from throwing it up. "What's your name?" he repeated.

"I'm Charlie!" the toad said cheerfully. "Soup not to your liking? Don't worry, most of us feel the same — it's a wonder the Lumas choke it down on a daily basis. Still, it's sustenance, so..."

Link couldn't disagree with that. "Charlie," he said civilly, "when are they going to let me out of here?"

Charlie frowned, stubby hands wrapping around the bars. "No idea," he said. "From what I hear, they're still askin' questions about you, buddy. They wanna know what you've done with Mario."

"I didn't do anything with Mario!" Link snapped, losing his temper. How many times was someone going to ask him about that? He had no idea of who Mario was or where he'd gone, or why the hell he himself was here. He just knew that he wanted to leave.

Charlie snorted. "Try tellin' that to the rest of the crew," he said. "Mario's our foundation — without him, we're on rocky ground. He's the only one strong enough to defeat Bowser, save Princess Peach. And then here you come, out of nowhere, appearing where he disappeared, wearing his clothes no less... Well, I guess you can see how that stacks the deck against you."

Link took one more spoonful of stew and then abandoned it. "Princess?" he repeated. "You're trying to save a princess?"

Charlie nodded vigorously. "Just not any princess," he said. "Princess Peach! Ruler of the Mushroom Kingdom, monarch of the toads! Bowser the Koopa King's kidnapped her before, but this time he took her into space with him, into the center of the observable universe, and put exterior galactic clusters under his rein to fortify himself against us. We've steadily been following him, liberating occupied galaxies as we go, but now, with Mario gone..." A grim look overcame the toad. "Princess Peach... Shrooms, she's always been strong, but to be so far away from Mario, in Bowser's clutches... I can't imagine how terrified she is!"

Link could. He knew of another princess that had been terrified, and in the merciless hands of the enemy. She, too, acted hard on the outside: the first time that Link had seen her, in the form of a wolf, she'd acted anything but frightened at her situation, which would have been warranted. She'd spoken calmly and firmly, back straight and eyes clear and focused, but in their depths, Link had seen shadows, terrified shadows. He imagined this Peach character must be feeling the same way.

In fact, he was borderline shocked at how similar Princess Peach sounded to Princess Zelda, both in their character and in their situation: at the mercy of the enemy, far away, needing to be liberated by a singular man strong enough to do the job. One that had suddenly disappeared from this place; no wonder these people hadn't trusted a word out of his mouth.

He said, "I'm trying to save people, too."

Charlie raised a brow. "Say what?"

"My home country is Hyrule," Link went on. "Right now, it's being threatened by Zant, the King of Shadows, and his powerful dark magic. He's much like your Bowser, I think: he seeks to rule Hyrule for his own gain, and commands legions of monsters and demons."

The toad's eyes were wide with awe. "Wow..."

"That's why I need to get out of here, Charlie," Link urged. "I'm the only one who can defeat Zant — the only one. For that reason, you and your people have to let me go. Lives are on the line."

Charlie's fingers tightened around the bars. He chewed on his lip, suddenly nervous. "How...how do I know that you're telling the truth?"

Was he softening? Link pounced: "I am. You have my word."

"That ain't enough! You could be lying: you want to get out, after all. You'd say anything be free."

Once again, Link found himself on the verge of losing his temper. These toads weren't as naïve as they looked, which was a disappointment. "You seem to be a good judge of character, Charlie," he said, opting to flatter the toad. He rose from the cot, then moved to the bars. The toad stepped back a little, uncertain, but Link stopped a yard away from the bars, staring down at him.

"Look at me," he prompted. "Do I look like a man prone to manipulation?"

Tentatively, Charlie looked him square in the eye. He had trouble keeping it up — Link's gaze could be barbed when he wanted it to be, an ability that came from staring down plenty of monsters. Then, Charlie turned away.

"No," he admitted. "In fact, you seem like a nice guy. Honest." He sighed. "But much as I'd like to let you go, it isn't up to me. Mister Lubba and Yoshi are makin' the decisions now that Mario is gone, and they've still got questions about Mario."

Link's teeth ground. Audibly. Charlie flinched.

"Look, I'm sorry," he said. "But you should understand how desperate we are to rescue Princess Peach, if you're in the same kind of thing with your country. And to rescue her, we need Mario. And to rescue Mario, we need you. But if it makes you feel any better, I'll make your case to Lubba."

It didn't. A flash of rage heated up Link's veins, and for a second he considered kicking the bars, showing Charlie how frightening he could be when he was angry.

But then, he spotted something dangling at the toad's side: a ring of keys. Four of them, winking in the weak lighting. Keys...to where?

Perhaps the cell door?

Charlie offered him a friendly smile. "Come on," he said amiably. "Why don't you give me back your tray? We'll see about getting you some dessert. It'll be less sickening than the Star Bit stew, I'll make sure of it. How does an apple sound?"

Link's mind spun, thinking quickly. "Fine," he said, turning back to the cot so that the toad couldn't see his face. He picked up the tray slowly. He noticed that his hands were shaking—that only happened when he was about to face a fight-or-flight situation. Though he was still thinking, it seemed that his body had already made its mind up for him.

Returning to the bars, he stooped, scooting the tray underneath. "A green one," he grunted. "If possible."

"No problem, buddy," Charlie said, his cheer returning. "One green apple, comin' right up!"

He bent over to pick up the tray. Unsuspecting as he was, it must have been quite the surprise when Link's arm flashed through the bars, his hand lynching around Charlie's throat.

***

Starship Mario | Upper Deck - Nav Com

"Preparing to reboot Search and Navigation," Rio announced. "Standby, everyone."

Lubba and Yoshi stood off to the side, watching a group of Yoshis, Lumas and toads lying about the upper deck's computer banks, banding together wires and screwing sockets into the motherboard. Rio, the pink Luma, hovered beside a Yoshi as he typed rapidly into the computer. Lines of code scrolled down a black screen for a full minute before it was replaced by a Grand-Star-shaped insignia, and a progress bar that quickly filled to 100% like a thermometer. After that, a home screen appeared.

"Success!" Rio cried.

Lubba sighed in relief as the crew applauded their feat. Finally, some good news! With Nav back online, perhaps they could figure out where in heaven they were.

"Good work, Rio," he said. "Now, let's see if we can't figure out exactly where we are in Sector 7-MA."

"On it, Mister Lubba!" With that, the Luma and her friends got to work, using Starship Mario's out-of-shield cameras to take pictures of the surrounding space and get more accurate depictions of nearby stars and constellations. They also sent out a deep-space probe to scan any planetary bodies for crystalline ore — Star Bits — and Power Stars. The last they desperately needed: last Lubba had heard, fuel reserves were now dwindling below eight percent. Just keeping the lights and heat on was draining the batteries.

Rio estimated that it would take twelve hours to compile any results, but, to everyone's delight, it only took four — the computers had picked up some traits in the surrounding star systems consistent with entries in the database.

"In particular," Rio said, pointing to a freshly-printed star chart, "this nova-remnant here." She pointed to a blot in the map. Lubba squinted.

"Astral body 9-18," he commented.

"Indeed," Rio said. "It used to be a star named Petulia. It went nova over thirty-seven thousand years ago — the Observatory managed to record the event as it obliterated twelve nearby star systems."

"Who cares about that?" Yoshi demanded, slapping his hands down on the table. "What does that tell us about where we are?"

"A lot," Rio said patiently. "The Observatory was here" — she pointed — "in Galactic Cluster 5 when they witnessed it."

"So they were nearby," Pollux gasped.

"Relatively," Rio agreed. "They were able to take photos, and found that it looked like this." She overlaid the map with a picture, a grainy one of a mandala-shaped pinprick of gas and light that outshone the constellations around it.

"The deep-space probe picked up helium flashes from the nova earlier today, and was able to pinpoint the Petulia nova and take a picture of it," Rio continued. She retrieved a photo. "And it looked like this."

Yoshi was getting impatient again. "Okay, and?" he said. "All I see are two white blobs. What does that matter?"

"Take a closer look, Mister Yoshi," Rio said. "There's a stark difference between these two pictures. What is it?"

Huffing, Yoshi picked up the photos and studied them, looking annoyed. After a moment, he frowned. "One looks bigger than the other."

"Exactly!" Rio exclaimed. "The nova in the older picture is a lot smaller."

"But that's expected," Io pointed out. "The nova's only gotten bigger over time. It makes sense that the outer corona would have expanded, and that it's wider than it was thirty-seven thousand years ago."

"Plus, we may or may not be closer to the nova than our ancestors were," Pollux added. "Closer equates to bigger, right?"

"Both valid points," Rio nodded, "but Pollux's may be more important. Even if the nova expands, a Luma looking at the nova from where the Observatory took that old picture wouldn't notice that: in fact, they probably wouldn't see the nova grow for another forty-thousand years or so, because the light from the nova wouldn't have reached them in time for them to see that."

"Of course!" Pollux said. "So a picture taken there today would look the same, because light hasn't reached that area of cluster five yet. But to us, it looks bigger, because we are actually closer to the nova! That makes sense!"

"What makes sense?" Yoshi cried. "You guys are giving me a headache! What are you talking about?"

"Basically," Rio said, "we can determine how far we are from the area where this picture was taken in galactic cluster five by the size this supernova appears. I had Nav run simulations, and it appears that every 100,000 light-years away from this area in galactic cluster five someone moves, the diameter of the nova grows by a centimeter. So, using that proportion, and factoring in the growth rate based on the speed of light..." Rio unearthed the star chart and pointed. "We are closer to the G5 cluster than we thought. In fact, we're only about fifty thousand light-years from the border."

It was good news. Very good news. When the hyperlight engines were fully functional, they could propel Starship Mario at 208 light-years an hour. That meant that if they got hyperlight up and running again, they would be able to reach galactic cluster five in about ten days.

But that still presented the problem: "We can't go anywhere until we find Mario," Lubba reminded them. "Without him, there's no point in reaching G5." After all, the mission was to take down Bowser, and how were they going to do that without their mustachioed captain?

"We should start a scan of nearby planetary bodies," Pollux suggested. "Maybe whatever took him off the ship zapped him nearby."

"Already done," Rio said. "We started thirty minutes ago. So far, all that we've found are molten rocks and icy snowballs, but—"

A black Yoshi suddenly appeared, elbowing his way through to the table. "Lubba!" he cried. "We've picked up something!"

Lubba's heart leapt into his throat. "Mario?" he cried.

"I'm not sure! It's a transmission of some kind: sounds like a bunch of Lumas! They must be stranded nearby!"

***

Within ten minutes, they'd pinpointed the origin of the broadcast: a nearby planet orbiting a gas giant.

Nav did a scan of the astral body, and the computer spat out a sporadic seismograph and charts screaming energy fluctuations consistent to that of nuclear fusion. The planet was a molten, volcanic deathtrap, a lethal sea of gas and magma so hot that it could reduce a human to slop in seconds. Lumas, hardy as they were, would be protected by their own barriers of natural radiation: hopefully, that meant that they would stay alive for the three hours it took to get a search and rescue operation all the way out there.

But if Mario was with them...

Not taking any chances, Lubba asked for volunteers immediately, and got them — including the Toad Brigade, bless their hearts. But since they wouldn't be able to even get close to the planet's surface without their skin melting off, Lubba sent them out on a different mission.

"A deep-space scan?" Captain Toad cried. "Why do we have to do that, when you've already got probes on it? Admit it, it's just busy work!"

Lubba didn't debate the point. "There's no way you'll be able to make it all the way down there without spontaneously combusting," he said. "Not without a full team of Lumas going with you as shields, and we're scrambling them all for the rescue op. You'll just be in the way."

"So we'll take suits," a toad said.

"Just do the scan," Lubba said. "The Lumas will be back before you know it."

"We're Mario's friends!" Captain Toad's companion, Toadbert, protested. "We have a right to assist in the rescue and make sure he's all right! In fact, we're probably more entitled than you are!"

"There's no guarantee that Mario is actually down there," Io snapped. "Would Mario want you to risk your lives for nothing, on the off chance that he might be down there?"

There was no distinct answer, just a bunch of grumbling.

"Stop complaining," the blue Luma said. "Going on a search and rescue isn't the only way you can help. We need more deep-space pictures of the Petulia nova. With them, we'll be able to derive our actual current coordinates." When none of them moved, she waved, saying, "Go on!"

Complaining under their breaths, the Toad Brigade shuffled off, unable to mount a suitable protest. Io, icy as she was, tended to have that effect on people.

An hour later, a small group of spaceships parted from Starship Mario's ventral hangar bay. Two were shaped like flat Power Stars, with a transparent dome encasing the surface — Star Cruisers holding the rescue op. The other was larger, mushroom-shaped, and polka-dotted — the Spelunker, carrying the Toad Brigade. From the upper deck, Lubba watched them soar off, until their shapes were eclipsed by the light of the fiery nebula. His belly swirled like a pit of acid.

Please bring Mario back.

Sensing his unease, Pollux sidled up to his side. "Don't worry, Mister Lubba," he said. "They'll bring those Lumas back. They might even find Mario."

"And if they don't?" Lubba asked.

"Then we'll keep searching," Io said.

Lubba didn't feel reassured. Suddenly the upper deck felt too crowded: crew was everywhere, continuing to repair the computer banks, studying star charts, manipulating holograms of the Petulia nova. Needing a break, he said, "I'm going down to question the prisoner."

"Want help?" Pollux asked.

"I think I'll go alone." Some peace and quiet would do Lubba's disturbed mind some good. Plus, the prisoner might be more open to talking if he was by himself. At least, he hoped he would. Lubba seriously needed a distraction right now.

***

Starship Mario | Brig

When the brig's automatic door slid open with a pneumonic hiss, Lubba floated inside to find the interior swarming with shadows. What the... Had Charlie turned the lights off? Lubba flicked them on, then froze, shocked.

No — Charlie had certainly not turned the lights off, because he was currently lying on the floor, knocked out cold. A dark puddle was pooled by the toad's head, and for a moment, Lubba feared the worst. But then the sweet smell reached him: it was Star Bit stew pooled around him, the bowl lying near the upended tray. Lubba hurried forward, bellying down to the ground and sitting the toad up.

"Charlie," he demanded. "Charlie, can you hear me?"

Slowly, Charlie's eyes blinked open. "Hurts," he groaned.

"What happened?" Lubba asked.

"Said I'd bring him a green apple...choked me..."

"He? He who?"

Charlie didn't answer, nor did he need to — there was only one other he that was relevant in this situation. With a sinking feeling, Lubba peered at the cell and found it empty, the door hanging open. Stars!

Lying Charlie back down the floor, Lubba rushed to the nearby intercom, pressing the button so that he was patched through to the upper deck. "We've got trouble down here," he said frantically. "I need help. The prisoner's escaped!"