Insurrection
Admiral Trevor Long watched out the view port from the bridge of his flagship, the Sentinel. The old Dalmatian wore a navy blue coat with gold pauldrons signifying his rank. A cigar stuck out from between his lips; though he had quit smoking, he still enjoyed having a stogy between his teeth, even if it was unlit. Admiral Long turned around, looking down at a pedestal in the middle of the cruiser's bridge displaying a massive naval battle taking place. After staring hard at the display for a few moments, the Admiral looked back around to the view port, where he could see the same battle raging just outside. Gargantuan capital ships slowly circled each other, vying for superior firing position, while hundreds of fighters danced around them, peppering their targets with laser fire.
Trevor looked to his right, looking down the side of his ship. A battery of double-barreled heavy laser cannons lined the hull. As he continued watching, the row of heavy guns opened fire, letting loose a volley of fat, bright blue laser bursts. The shots sailed through the empty void of space, before slamming into their targets, melting hull plating and causing shields to flicker and sputter. Long turned his attention back to the holographic display. His fleet of dagger-like Defender-class cruisers was scattered in orbit over the planet Venom. He'd been here before, many years ago. He had led the Cornerian fleet in it's assault on Venom back during the Lylat Wars, and had fought side by side the legendary Star Fox team during the final battle against Andross' home fleet. And here he was again, his ships descending upon Venom like hungry sharks. But this time was different. This time, instead of conquering Venom, Admiral Long and his men were here to defend it.
There were two other fleets in orbit above the planet. One was the Venomian fleet of Guardian-class battleships, huge, crescent-shaped warships that dwarfed even his own massive cruisers. This fleet was the home fleet of the NewVenomianRepublic, established by Dash Bowman after the conclusion of the Anglar War. The other fleet was made up of long, thin Pulverizer-class cruisers, old warships salvaged from the Lylat War era. When Long's fleet arrived at Venom, these two armadas had been engaged with each other in orbit. The enemy forces were made up of Venomian rebels and survivors of Andross' army from the rebellion on Fortuna. Dubbed "The Remnant" by the New Venomian Republic, these rebels started out as isolated riots and small skirmishes. However, as time went on, the incidents began to increase in frequency and intensity, quickly culminating in a full-scale rebellion as many Venomians who harbored hard feelings for Bowman's new government realized that they were not alone. Soon, Dash realized that he was in over his head, and sent a plea for help to Corneria. In response, Admiral Long's task force was sent in to help suppress the rebellion.
Trevor watched the hologram intently, his eyes darting back and forth as he monitored the battle. He reached into the display, touched a number of ships, and then selected other areas on the field. The captains of the selected ships would automatically receive orders to move to the designated locations. The warships began to move, the admiral monitoring them on the holo display. The ships reached their positions, encircling a small group of embattled Remnant and Venomian ships. The Defender-class ships turned, angling their prows so that each one was pointing towards a Remnant cruiser. Suddenly, bright beams of blue light lanced out from multiple points on each ship, the deadly lasers easily cutting through the targeted ships. These powerful lasers were 'Alpha Weapons', a term that referred to a ship's primary, forward-firing weapon system. The barely adequate defenses of the Pulverizers were no match for the firepower of the state-of-the-art warships. The surviving ships fired retaliatory missile volleys at the Cornerians, but they did little damage.
From his command chair aboard his flagship, the Punisher, Remnant Admiral Joseph Caine watched as a volley of blue laser fire devastated a portion of his fleet.
"Tough old bastards, aren't you?" he mused, scratching his chin. "Well, I've got a little gift for you." He activated his communicator. "Stealth ships, free to engage, repeat free to engage. De-cloak and fire at will."
Admiral Long's eyes widened as several new contacts appeared on the hologram. He immediately activated his communicator.
"All ships, be advised, we have multiple Weasel-class stealth ships! Engage immediately!" Several Cornerian cruisers slowly came about to face this new threat, their heavy guns erupting violently. However, the stealth ships' shields were fresh, allowing them to absorb the volley of shots. Their front missile bays opened, launching flurries of missiles towards the Defenders, whose shields, unlike the stealth ships, had been whittled down by the constant harassment of swarms of starfighters. The streams missiles crashed into their targets, completely shattering several of the cruisers. A grin split across Admiral Caine's face as the dingo witnessed the destruction of the Defender-class vessels.
"And now the Coup de Grace!" he shouted excitedly. He put his hand to the comm piece in his ear, activating the mic. "Crasher, this is Caine; you're free to move in."
"Affirmative, Admiral, the Crasher is en route."
Admiral Long looked on with concern and worry etched into his face as Cornerian and Venomian warships began to divert their attention to this new threat. Though the stealth ships had inferior armor and shields compared to the Defender- and Guardian-class ships, their missiles were incredibly powerful, the concussive blasts knocking out shields and ripping off armor with ease. The Remnant now had a sizeable advantage. Long was attempting to coordinate with the Venomian admiral when one of his senior officers grabbed him by the shoulder.
"Sir, I think you should see this." Trevor looked at the officer. Fear was etched into the alligator's face, and his voice shook slightly.
"What is it, lieutenant?" Long asked, following him to his station. The officer pointed an unsteady finger to the sensor screen. The admiral studied the screen, and his eyes widened.
The blackness of space was illuminated for a split second as a circle of green light materialized. Out of it shot a massive Storm-class attack carrier, the Crasher. The dreadnought had a long, rectangular center, with a huge wing like structure on the right side and two smaller stacked wings on the left side. The immense warship immediately began unleashing starfighters and laser volleys.
"God help us." Trevor breathed. The Weasel-class ships had been bad enough, but with this kind of firepower against them, the Venomians and Cornerians didn't stand a chance.
He watched helplessly as several of his cruisers went down in flaming wrecks, and a Guardian-class ship was reduced to a blasted hulk, venting atmosphere. His fighters, which were already engaged with the original Remnant squadrons, were quickly being overwhelmed by the dreadnought's massive fighter complement. They were being crushed. Suddenly another warp gate began to form outside the combat zone. Another dreadnought-sized warp gate. Trevor stared at it in disbelief. This was too much for them.
"All ships, this is Admiral Long," he hesitated. "...full retreat. Repeat, all Venomian and Cornerian ships, full retreat, we need to regroup." His bridge crew looked at him, each of them with a hopeless expression. Just then, a voice sounded over the comm.
"I hardly think that's necessary, Admiral." Trevor's head snapped up, his eyes wide open. He knew that voice. He stared at the warp gate as the new ship began to exit it. A thin, gray prow pushed through, followed the craft's massive, bulky superstructure. Four wings jutted out diagonally from the main body. 3 oversized plasma engines in the back propelled the gargantuan craft. A pair of oversized gun barrels jutted out from the superstructure beneath the bridge.
"The Great Fox." Trevor breathed. The dreadnought fully exited the warp gate, and immediately began heading for the combat zone. Of course, the ship wasn't the original Great Fox. In fact, it was the Great Fox III. Team Star Fox had used their earnings from their efforts during the Anglar War to replace their second-hand carrier with an updated version of their old flagship, which had been lost in the final battle of the Aparoid War. As the huge ship approached the battle, a line of bay doors opened on either side of the hull, each one housing a capital-scale quad-laser cannon. Dozens of smaller ports opened up all over the ship, revealing a network of double-barreled point-defense laser cannons.
"Admiral Long, this is Fox McCloud. Looks like you guys need a hand." Long breathed a sigh of relief.
"Yes, Fox, that would be very welcome right about now. If you can distract those fighters, our cruisers should be able to take on that Storm-class."
"Don't worry about the dreadnought, Admiral, we'll deal with it. You just focus on those cruisers." The admiral opened his mouth to respond, a puzzled look on his face, the promptly shut it, remembering who it was he was talking to.
"Alright, Fox, whatever you say."
Fox McCloud, captain of the Star Fox mercenary team, grinned. Fox was (as his name suggests) a reddish brown fox standing at around 5'11''. He was wearing his light brown jacket with the red Star Fox logo over his chest, a black tee-shirt, his green flight pants, and had his red scarf was tied around his neck. He fixed his wrap-around head set to the back of his skull, making sure it was secure. He looked over to his two teammates: Slippy Toad, wearing a Star Fox jacket similar to Fox's, a pair of loose fitting brown pants, and, of course, his trademark red baseball cap. The squat frog stood nearly a foot shorter than Fox. His other teammate, Falco Lombardi, was a tall falcon with dark blue plumage covering most of his body. The feathers around his eyes were blood red. He wore faded blue jeans, a spiked leather wrist band, a Star Fox jacket, and a headpiece similar to Fox's. Together, these three pilots made up Star Fox.
He fixed his wing mates with a determined look.
"Ready to roll?"
"You bet, Fox! Let's kick this scum outta orbit!" Slippy cried enthusiastically in his shrill voice. Falco got up from the console he'd been leaning against and gave his head a few rolls to crack any stiff tendons in his neck.
"Hell yeah, Fox, I've been dyin' for a little action." Falco said in his heavy Brooklyn accent. Fox nodded and gave them a small grin. He turned to ROB 64, the team's navigation robot.
"ROB, do whatever you can to assist the Cornerian and Venomian ships. Focus on that dreadnought."
"Affirmative, Fox." The thin robot replied as it turned to the consoles and controls of the Great Fox. "Plotting intercept course to hostile warship: The Crasher." Fox nodded, then turned to Falco and Slippy.
"Let's go!" The three pilots took off at a sprint to the ship's hangar bay.
Fox climbed into the cockpit of his 5th Generation Arwing-class starfighter. The fighter had gone through various redesigns since it's inception. This newest model, strangely enough, strongly resembled it's oldest incarnation, the one he had flown during the Lylat Wars almost 14 years ago. Fox spoke into his mic.
"All set?"
"Falco here, I'm good to go."
"This is Slippy, I'm green across the board."
"Alright," Fox said. "Let's rock and roll." Three white and blue blurs rocketed forth from the hangar below the Great Fox's main guns. The Arwings formed up, with Fox in front, Slippy on his left, and Falco to his right. "Alright, team, let's take it to 'em!" Fox yelled. With that, the fighters descended into the chaotic battle.
Admiral Long could hardly believe his good fortune. He watched as the Arwings slid into the battle, and began to effortlessly devastate the enemy. Their dual laser cannons sent dozens of enemy fighters spiraling away in flames. The second-hand Remnant craft were no match for the top-of-the-line Arwings. The team constantly covered each other, making sure that any enemy pilots who managed to draw a bead on one of their teammates was instantly shot down. It was magnificent flying. He turned his attention to the Great Fox. The flagship was now picking up speed, making it's way towards the battle. More specifically, Trevor noticed, towards the enemy dreadnought.
Admiral Caine looked worryingly at the bridge main view screen. With Star Fox here, things, he knew, could very quickly go from rosy, to disastrous. He didn't like the rate at which his fighter count was dropping. He didn't like how he had lost 8 cruisers in the past 60 seconds. And he MOST CERTAINLY did not like how rapidly the Great Fox was closing on his ace-in-the-hole. The massive warship was now in the combat zone, only a few hundred kilometers from the Crasher.
"All cruisers near the Great Fox, engage and destroy it, I repeat, destroy the Great Fox, DO NOT let it damage the Crasher!"
Several Pulverizer-class ships turned towards the Great Fox as it sailed by them. Their heavy batteries began blasting away at it, but it's powerful shields easily absorbed the shots. The dreadnought's own heavy guns swiveled in their ports, and returned fire, the massive recoil forcing the barrels back into the turret housing. Dozens of bright yellow light bursts slammed into the offending ships, wrecking several of them.
Caine let out a growl of frustration as his ships were effortlessly brushed off. It was obvious that the Pulverizers didn't pack the necessary punch to bring down the Great Fox. He had only one option: The Crasher. "Crasher, this is Admiral Caine. Concentrate all fire on the Great Fox."
"Yes, sir."
The Crasher came about to face the Great Fox. The two immense warships seemed to almost stare each other down for a moment. Then, without warning, the missile bays on the Crasher's right wing opened up and began firing. A flurry of missiles flew into the approaching warship, detonating against her shields. As the Great Fox closed in on the Crasher, Joseph Caine desperately hoped that she would present her flank and broadside his dreadnought instead of using her devastating Alpha weapon. However, his hopes quickly fell as golden particles began building in the two massive gun barrels sticking out from the ship's superstructure. The cannons finished charging, and for just a moment, were silent.
Suddenly, the cannons opened fire, heavy laser shots slinging out of the barrels and into the Crasher. The dreadnought's already weakened shields dropped even further in strength as the massive laser bursts slammed into them. The Crasher responded with a huge volley of cannon fire. Though it lacked an Alpha weapon like the Great Fox, the Storm-class made up for it with it's huge batteries of heavy lasers. The shots slammed into the Great Fox's shields, and were quickly followed up by another volley of missiles. It's shields taking damage and it's primary weapon momentarily depleted of charge, the Great Fox came about, presenting her port flank to the Crasher. As the Remnant warship fired another volley of cannon fire, the Star Fox mother ship's portside battery returned fire. Red and yellow bursts of light crisscrossed between the two dreadnoughts, their shields flaring with each hit.
Trevor watched apprehensively as the titanic ships battled each other. Though the Great Fox was indeed a powerful ship, this kind of battle was where the Storm-class excelled. It was meant for long endurance fights, capable of slugging it out with other warships for hours in ship-to-ship broadsides. The Crasher had many more capital-scale guns then the Great Fox. In a plain broadside, the Crasher would almost certainly come out on top.
ROB 64's metallic hands danced across the Great Fox's control console as he directed each individual turret in the portside battery to target a specific point on the enemy ship. He checked the shields: 44% and falling. The sustained fire from the Crasher was taking it's toll, and if the shields broke, it was all over. Starships weren't much use if they were holed. All the oxygen would be sucked out into space, and ROB knew that asphyxiation tended to be detrimental to the health of organic life forms. Because of this inherent fragility, ROB knew he would have to finish this fight quickly if the Star Fox team were going to return to their flagship when this was all over. As the Crasher continued to hammer the Great Fox, the Cornerian warship ceased fire.
Admiral Caine watched excitedly as the Great Fox's guns fell silent. The Crasher must have hit something important. He thought to himself. However, his grin was gradually replaced with a look of sheer horror. The Great Fox began to turn, bringing it's prow to point directly at the Remnant battleship. As her shields dipped to 27%, the ship's main guns began to hum, yellow pinpricks of light forming inside the barrels. Joseph Caine watched helplessly as twin beams of golden light streaked from the cannons and into the Crasher. Her weakened shields collapsed as the concentrated energy beams collided with the dreadnought. The Alpha weapon cut through the thick hull plating with relative ease, right through the warship's center. The resulting explosions rocked the vessel as the two wing-like extensions fell away from the rest of the ship.
Trevor let out a sigh of relief as the Crasher fell apart, the huge battleship leaking debris into space. He reached to his communicator:
"Thanks, Captain McCloud, we appreciate the assist." It was a hell of an understatement: Star Fox had dealt with his fleet's biggest threat like it had been a minor annoyance.
"Glad to be of assistance, Trevor." Fox answered quickly, swerving through clouds of anti-aircraft fire. Team Star Fox swept through the fleet, engaging and destroying any Remnant fighters they came upon to ease the burden on the Cornerian and Venomian pilots. However, the anti-air fire from the Remnant cruisers was relentless. Streams of red light crisscrossed their flight path no matter which direction they headed.
"We're gonna need to do something about these cruisers, Fox, there's way too much triple-A!" Slippy shouted as he rolled away from a stream of laser fire.
"I hear ya, Slip. ROB, bring the Great Fox in close, tear these cruisers apart!"
"Affirmative, Fox. Registering all targets in specified kill zone. Moving to engage."
Admiral Long watched as the Great Fox started moving in to clear out the Pulverizers. It was amazing to him that the warship could take such a massive beating and so easily move on to the next target. Or can it? He thought. He turned to the holo display and searched until he found the Great Fox. He looked at it's shield capacity: 20%. Trevor paled; that was dangerously low for a fleet-sized engagement, even for a dreadnought.
"Fox, belay that last order." Fox paused.
"...I'm sorry, sir?"
"Belay that order, Fox. The Great Fox's shields are nearly out. It's done all we needed it to do, and losing it now would be a huge waste." Fox bristled a bit.
"Admiral, with all due respect, we're gonna need her."
"Negative Fox, pull her out of the fight, she's too big a resource to lose. It wouldn't be worth it. I'll have my own ships help you deal with those cruisers." There was a pause. Then...
"Understood, Admiral." Fox reluctantly agreed.
"ROB, pull the ship back out of the combat zone. Wait there for further instructions."
"Affirmative, Fox. Pulling back." Fox watched as his flagship turned away from him and began to head away from the battle. He turned back towards his fighter's controls. He had to remain focused. He jammed the accelerator forward, rocketing towards a line of enemy ships, his teammates right behind him. The Arwings swooped in on the nearest cruiser, rolling and yawing to avoid enemy fire. Their laser cannons blared, sending bolts crashing into the gun turrets and destroying them with a few direct hits. Team Star Fox pulled away from the warship to examine their handiwork. Their strafing run had destroyed roughly 30% of the ship's point-defense system. Not nearly enough.
"Fox, forget about turret-popping, we're gonna have to blow these things up whole-sale." Falco said, surveying the insignificant amount of damage they had managed to inflict.
"Affirmative. Team, use pulse torpedoes to bring them down." The Arwings lined up for another assault on the cruiser. Below the nose of each fighter, green specks of light began swirling around in a large cannon barrel. In previous generations of the Arwing, they had had the ability to charge their laser cannons into a powerful homing shot, capable of inflicting massive damage on a target. However, it was discovered that this charge ability caused extreme wear-and-tear on the Arwing's power supply and weapon systems, which was why they needed to be replaced so often. In order to let the Arwing keep it's massive firepower, the pulse torpedo was created. The pulse torpedo is a burst of light energy containing hundreds of microscopic nanocomputers that are used to control the pulse through electrical impulses, guiding it to it's intended target. The only downside to this new weapon was the massive heat build-up: a single shot would overheat the weapon systems, leaving the fighter temporarily defenseless.
As the starfighters raced towards the capital ship, they released their torpedoes, swerving away to avoid return fire. The streaks of green light slammed into the cruiser, whose shields had been stripped away by the constant fire from Cornerian and Venomian fighter force. Slippy's torpedo punched into the engine housing, damaging the warship's plasma reactors and causing a chain reaction of explosions to rock the rear of the ship. Falco's torpedo plowed into the superstructure, detonating and tearing a huge chunk out of the armor plating. And finally, Fox's torpedo sailed directly into the bridge view port. The bridge, along with the surrounding hull, was vaporized. The cruiser, crippled beyond repair, drifted away, spewing debris from it's gaping wounds.
"Now that's more like it!" Slippy exclaimed in satisfaction.
"Yeah, that's how it's done! Hope those navy boys were taking notes." Falco remarked smugly. Fox rolled his eyes.
"Alright, come on, we got a job to do here. Let's go!" They shot away from the wreckage, searching for another target.
Another Pulverizer loomed ahead of them. As they approached, the warship fired it's Alpha weapon, several dozen light orange beams flying out from multiple emitters along the hull and hitting a Guardian-class, knocking out her shields. The Remnant battleship followed up with a volley of missiles, putting several smoking holes in the crescent-shaped vessel. "Let's put that thing outta action before it does anymore damage." Fox said into his mic.
"Got it, Fox." Slippy said, pushing his accelerator forward and veering right, heading towards the prow of the craft.
As he zoomed away, however, a squadron of Remnant Interceptor I-class fighters peeled off after him, laser cannons blaring. Slippy cried out as his fighter shook from the first impact. He looked over his shoulder, and his eyes widened as he saw the swarm of fighters tailing him. "Uhh, I could use a hand here."
Fox's palm smacked into his forehead.
"Same old Slippy..." he muttered. "Roger, I read seven bogies, 2 o'clock high. Movin' in. Hang tight, Slip. Falco, start your run on that cruiser, watch out for AA."
"Got it, Fox. Don't be too long, you might miss the party." With a cocky grin, Falco jammed his yolk to the left, his fighter rolling away and veering off to the rear of the target ship.
Fox roared after Slippy, falling in behind his pursuers. Before the Remnant pilots had time to react to his presence, his finger depressed the trigger, his dual laser cannons barking out a harsh staccato. One of the fighters shattered, bursting into a cloud of burning debris and molten metal. As he went to target another fighter, they began to scatter as they realized they were being tailed. Fox blasted another ship into oblivion, but the rest fled his line of sight.
"Slippy, you're clear, break off and help me hunt down the stragglers!" Slippy sighed in relief as his craft stopped bucking, and his shields started to recharge.
"Roger that, Fox! Thanks for the assist!" Slippy yanked back on his control yolk, pulling his fighter into a U-turn as he went to rejoin Fox. The pair of Arwings took off after Slippy's attackers, their cannons blaring.
Falco pulled in behind the enemy cruiser, a grin plastered across his face. He was determined to take the ship down before Fox was done bailing Slippy out. Taking out a cruiser single-handedly would fuel his ego for at least half an hour. He locked onto the warship's massive engines, determined to cripple it in a single shot. He primed his munitions launcher, arming a powerful Nova Bomb. Despite the weapon regularly being referred to as a 'Smart Bomb', the bomb was, in fact, unguided.
No problem for Falco Lombardi, though. He pressed the big, ominous-looking red button on the top of his yolk. A small, red, conical object burst forth from Falco's torpedo barrel, streaking towards the Pulverizer. It crashed into the triple-stacked engines and detonated, the huge blast damaging all of the ship's engines. Without propulsion, the ship began to drift, retro thrusters along the hull trying to control it's course.
"Yeeeeaaah!" Falco shouted, throwing his fist into the air. He came along side the damaged craft, preparing to strafe it. However, as he caught up to the ship, a volley of red laser fire flew towards him. He attempted to roll away, but it was too late. Dozens of shots found their mark, instantly shorting out his shields. His fighter rattled as his hull and wings took a few hits. He pulled away as fast as he could, his starfighter billowing smoke. As soon as he was out of range of the ship's point defenses, he pulled a wide turn, once again facing the cruiser.
He had to take this monster down, but with his ship in this condition, he would be much slower and less agile. And a slow target was a dead target. Still, he had to try. Falco pushed hard on the throttle, twitching his yolk this way and that, making his fighter jink in order to throw off their targeting systems. He armed another Nova Bomb. He would have to deal with the gun turrets quickly in order to survive. As he approached, he could see the laser cannons swiveling in their housings, easily tracking the damaged ship. He steeled himself, ready to rush on into the inevitable wall of AA fire.
Suddenly, streams of green laser fire fell like deadly rain onto the batteries, shots cutting through the turrets and rendering them useless. Falco looked on in awe as a squadron of thin Cornerian Jethro-class interceptors fell upon the ship like angry hornets. They twirled and spun, spitting out laser fire in torrents. In a matter of minutes, the cruiser was a flaming hulk, no longer moving or returning fire. As the fighters broke away, a voice came over Falco's comm.
"Lombardi! Good ta see ya, dude! Looks like me n' my boys got here in tha nick a time!" Falco's mouth split into a huge grin.
"I'll be damned. Bill Grey! How ya doin', ya old hound?"
"Not bad, not bad at all, Falco. You mind if me n' my flight join ya?"
"Course not. More the merrier, right?" Falco fell in with the Cornerian fighters, leading them away from the broken Pulverizer.
Slippy pulled his trigger, turning his target into slag with a few bursts from his cannons. He rolled to the side, dodging away from a flurry of laser fire from a tailing opponent. Yanking hard on the yolk, he pulled a tight loop, falling behind his pursuer. As the enemy pilot attempted his own loop, Slippy quickly opened fire, shattering the fighter's shields and blowing several small holes in it. The crippled interceptor's wing flew off, and it spiraled away out of control.
"Yeah! Take that, you scum!" Slippy pulled a wide turn, watching as Fox easily downed the last of Slippy's would-be assailants.
"Alright, that takes care of those bastards. Let's go help Falco deal with that cruiser." The Arwings shot off in the direction of the targeted enemy warship.
As they neared their target, Falco's voice broke over their radios.
"Don't worry about that Pulverizer, guys, I took care of it." he said smugly. As Fox was about to answer, a voice he recognized cut him off.
"You took care of it? Please, feather-head, if it weren't for us, you woulda been cooked, dude." Fox and Slippy grinned at this.
"Bill? That you?" Fox asked.
"Course it's me! Who else's job is it to consistently pull Star Fox's hides outta the fire? Besides Miss Monroe, of course." Bill answered, a devilish smile on his lips. He could almost feel Falco's annoyance at the feline's mention.
"Katt doesn't save us, she just tags along every once in a while!" Falco insisted. Everybody who was listening rolled their eyes at the comment.
"Alright, stow it, Star Fox, we got a job to do." Fox called out. Falling in with Bill's squadron, the fighters flew off in search of another target.
Admiral Caine breathed a little easier as the Great Fox left. He didn't know why the massive warship was pulling back, but he didn't really care, as long as he didn't have to deal with it. The Star Fox team themselves were enough of a problem; he didn't need to go up against their mothership as well. Despite this good luck, he was still extremely worried. Star Fox had been around for years, and the only time they lost a pilot was one retired, or quit. They just didn't die. They had fought through dozens of battles, gone up against countless foes, faced (seemingly) impossible odds time and time again, and nobody could manage to take the down.
He didn't know if it was luck, or if they were simply the best damn pilots in existence. Either way, if he wanted to win this battle, Joseph would have to put an end to their winning streak today.
"All ships, repeat, all ships, focus attention on the Star Fox team! If you see them, take them out!"
The formation of starfighters flew through the battle, sweeping enemy fighters aside like gnats. With Bill and his squadron flying with them, Star Fox was doing even more damage. Things were going well. For the moment, at least. Falco looked down to his dashboard as an insistent ringing caught his attention. His eyes widened.
"Missile lock! Missile lock! Somebody's got my number!"
"Go evasive!" Slippy screamed. Falco didn't waste time with a comment about how blindingly obvious Slippy's advice was. He rolled rapidly to the right, just as several large missiles soared past him. He looked around wildly for his attacker, and then noticed it: a Weasel-class stealth cruiser, bearing down on them rapidly. It's pods flared to life again, launching another flurry of missiles at him.
"Why the hell is it only shooting at me!" Falco yelled in frustration as he pulled hard up and left on his yolk. His fighter climbed to the left, the missiles tracking him easily. As they drew closer, he rolled down and left, the missiles barely missing him.
"They must have noticed how badly damaged you are. They figure you're the easiest target." Bill pointed out. Falco mentally slapped himself. He had completely forgotten what kind of shape his craft was in, flying right back into battle without even considering his condition.
"Well, take it out! I can't dodge these damn things for ever!" He yelled angrily as the Weasel-class launched another volley.
"We're on it Falco, hang on!" Fox shouted. He gunned the throttle, blasting towards the enemy ship at full speed. He hit a small red button on his yolk, firing a pulse torpedo. The green light burst sailed forth from the fighter's torpedo barrel, impacting on the ship's shields. They flickered slightly, but held firm. Slippy opted for a different approach, coming along side the warship and strafing it with his laser cannons. Blue bolts flew into the cruiser's shields, but to no avail. The Weasel-class had weak shields compared to other capital-scale ships, but it could easily hold against small starfighters. This particular ship's shields were relatively fresh compared to other ships taking part in the battle.
As Bill and his squadron descended on the ship, Falco was pushing his damaged fighter to the limit to avoid the warship's latest attack. He pushed his engine to full capacity, hitting about Mach 7 as he swerved between battling warships. It was dangerous to do with his limited maneuverability, but it was less risky then absorbing the stream of missiles behind him. They were designed to punch through capital ship armor; a glancing hit would utterly destroy the Arwing, even if it had been previously undamaged. He spun and twirled, doing everything he could in an attempt to lose the pursuing rockets.
The avian fighter pilot flew towards a swarm of battling Cornerian and Remnant fighters. Falco grimaced. He had an idea, but it wasn't a pretty one. He would have to fly through the dogfight, and hope the missiles would impact on some of the fighters. Hopefully not the Cornerian ones he thought. As he prepared to fly through, he noticed a massive Venomian battleship standing off a little ways from the group of fighters, it's point-defense rotary laser cannons providing fire support for the Cornerian pilots. An idea struck him.
"This is Falco Lombardi hailing Guardian-class battleship, are you receiving, over?"
"This is Captain Renard, of the VRS Rocko, we read you Lombardi. Is there something we can do for you?"
"Yeah, there is. Can I borrow your point-defense for a sec?" There was a pause.
"I'm sorry, Lombardi, I don't follow."
"I've got enough missiles on my tail to fry a corvette, and I'd like 'em gone, please."
Another pause. Then,
"Ok...uhh, sure, go ahead and pass above us. Our guns will handle your missile problem."
"Got it." Falco answered. He gunned his fighter, blasting over the enormous expanse of the Rocko. On the ship's surface, dozens of multi-barreled, gatling-style laser cannons opened fire, sending strings of golden laser fire above them like streams of molten gold. As the missiles entered the kill zone, the AA fire intercepted them one by one, destroying each one with a concussive blast. As Falco shot away from the battleship, he was relieved to see that no more missiles were following him.
"Thanks for the help, captain. Much obliged."
"Anytime, Mr. Lombardi. Try not to get killed out there, will you?" Falco grinned.
"No promises, captain."
Fox fired another flurry of laser shots into the ship, the energy bursts slamming into it's shields. The shields were nearly gone, but since Falco had zoomed off with the missiles on his tail, the Weasel had begun concentrating on the rest of the fighters. They had been caught off guard by the first volley directed at them, and two of Bill's squad mates had paid for it with their lives. The fighters were now hugging the stealth ship's surface, staying close to the hull to avoid being targeted.
"This isn't working! We're not doing enough damage!" One of the Cornerian pilots exclaimed. Bill was about to tell the man to shut up and keep shooting, when another voice interrupted him.
"Get clear of that ship! She's mine!" Falco's Arwing screamed toward the stealth cruiser, it's wing's folded back into Cruise Mode to make it more aerodynamic.
"Falco, what're you-?"
"Can it and move Slip!" Falco yelled. Without further argument, the swarm of fighters broke away from the Weasel. As Falco rapidly approached, he held his trigger down, firing a continuous stream of shots into the cruiser. He watched intently as the ship's shields flickered with each impact. Then, a shot broke past where the shields had been, and hit the hull. As soon as he saw this, Falco jammed his thumb down on the red button on top of the yolk. A Nova Bomb flew out from under the fighter, and rushed to meet the enemy craft, which was struggling desperately to come about and face him. But it was too late. The bomb hit the stealth ship, and detonated. The cruiser's weak plating peeling away like wall paper from the extreme heat. The ship shattered from the shock wave, various pieces falling away and exploding.
"And that, ladies, is how you get it done."
A/N: Well, my first chapter of my first story! I'm feelin pretty stoked. Anyway, I would greatly appreciate reviews, but if you have something negative to say, please don't be a jerk about it, I'm willing to listen to any constructive criticism. Please point out any spelling/grammar errors, I'm constantly hunting the little bastards, but there always seem to be a few that slip by.