Chapter One: The Calm (v2)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Finally getting around to this rewrite. Only took me a damned year and a half; Jesus. I'm not rebooting the whole fic or anything like that (though I have made a few retcons); just giving it a large-scale facelift to bring its older chapters up to my current standards. I'm touching up inconsistencies and expanding/shrinking other things as I see fit, as well. I will mark chapters with "(v2)" in the title as I finish rewriting them, as shown above.

000

The sun was just edging its way over the horizon as Fox McCloud removed his pilot's helmet and popped the canopy on his state-of-the-art Arwing starfighter. The vulpine didn't even bother waiting for one of the flight techs to bring a ladder, opting instead to jump the seven feet to the hangar floor. He landed in a practiced crouch, and threw in a front roll just for dramatic effect. Fox stood and dusted off his flight suit. The flight technician, a hound wearing his position's regulation yellow reflective vest and matching crash helmet, took an instinctual half-step back upon seeing the pilot cannonball off the side of his ship. The tech hadn't been told who would be landing (he never was), but once he recognized the vulpine's face, the silver oak leaves on his collar were unnecessary in denoting his rank.

The hound snapped off a crisp salute. "Commander."

Fox simply nodded, signaling the canine to drop his salute. "Sorry about that, Corporal. Should've told you I was jumping, huh?"

The vulpine's laid back manner caught him off-guard; most personnel of McCloud's rank lived, breathed and spoke by the book. "It's alright, sir."

"Could you check on a few things for me?"

Had a commander just asked him something? "Uh… certainly, sir."

"Thruster response seemed a little sluggish. Also, my ECM system wasn't coming online."

"I'll have a look, sir. But," he added with a smile, "I'm sure you could shake enemy missiles with or without your electronic countermeasures."

Fox shrugged. "I appreciate the compliment, but I'd still rather scramble their guidance systems."

"Of course, sir. We should have her tuned up by tomorrow."

"See what you can do. Thanks, Corporal." And with that, Fox strode out of the hangar. He wound through the streets and roadways of the Fort Willis joint-branch military base, making his way to his team's barracks. At some point he nodded at a Marine platoon in tee shirts as they passed him on their morning run. After a few more minutes of walking he reached his team's barracks and pushed the door open. Unsurprisingly, no one was there to greet him; most of his operators were on leave today. Falco was on duty, but as there was little for him to do ashore (they were Navy, after all), the avian was probably off blowing shit up on a firing range with a 40 Mike-Mike. Am I just that obsessed with flying? I mean, it's practically in my blood, so…

The sound of glass shattering made him jump. Instinctively, he loosened his stance and crept quietly towards the kitchen. Fox really doubted a terrorist had snuck onto the base for the express purpose of breaking his kitchen window, but caution had served him well before. As he poked his head around the corner, though, he saw a certain sapphire vixen with her back turned to him whip out a rag and kneel down. The heavenly smell of coffee wafted into his nostrils, but said coffee was currently all over the floor amid countless miniature shards of glass. Fox groaned inwardly about the loss of his coffee maker, but he knew he couldn't be angry with her, let alone stay that way for any period of time. Still, he'd have a little fun since she hadn't noticed him.

Fox crept across the kitchen until he was merely inches behind her, leaned down right next to her ear and adopted a suitably loud voice. "Krystal?" She shrieked in surprise and very nearly went through the roof before whirling around to face him. Now that, he found quite amusing. It was getting harder by the second to hide his shit-eating grin, and the way she glared at him wasn't helping in that regard.

"Jesus, Fox, don't scare me like that!"

"Sorry," he said innocently, though they both knew he was anything but.

"Rest assured, commander, you're going to pay for that one." Her resolved tone sent a trickle of concern down his spine, but he decided to ignore it.

Looking her over, he noted a very large coffee stain on the front of her mottled grey camouflage fatigues. "What happened?"

"Gravity happened," she mumbled, clearly embarrassed.

Fox jerked his head towards the bedrooms. "Why don't you change? I'll clean this up, and then we can go get some real coffee."

She arched an eyebrow. "Starnova?"

Fox raised his brow in return and adopted a more authoritative tone. "Lieutenant, do I look like a soy-chugging hipster to you?"

Krystal knew he was messing around, but her cheeks still darkened a bit. "...I really like their vanilla lattés."

Fox smirked and rolled his eyes. "Give me five to clean the floor and put on some BDUs."

The pair made their way out the door four minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, dressed in urban fatigues with a tiger stripe pattern; standard issue for Navy personnel on Corneria's surface. As per regulations, Fox and Krystal put on their eight-point caps when they stepped outside. Fox twirled his key ring around his left index finger as they neared his car. He flicked the ring off his left finger and let it flip in midair before catching it on his right. Krystal muttered something about showoffs, which only served as encouragement for him to do it again. A lower enlisted airman passed them in the other direction before they made it to Fox's car, saluting as he neared. Though they served in different branches, it was customary to salute all superior officers. Besides, it was polite. Krystal returned the gesture with a crisp but quick identical salute. Fox's, while still acceptable, was more relaxed.

That done, Fox unlocked his black sedan and sat down behind the wheel. Once Krystal was securely riding shotgun, he started the engine and pulled out of the lot. From there it was a few minutes' drive to the main gate. Both spacers raised their brows as Fox pulled up.

"Well, that's new," muttered Fox, bringing his car to a stop and pushing the shifter into park. Four Marine Corps military policemen stood where they would usually find a lone CDF trooper. Each man wore a black, white-lettered MP band on the left arm of his urban digital fatigues. They were all equipped with solid grey plate carriers; three magazines tucked into the lower pouches. Radios were clipped to their left shoulders, and a wire ran up under each man's eight-point cap to his left ear. A three-point sling held a magnetic rifle across each man's chest, accessible in less than a second should the need arise.

The black-painted weapon was aesthetically similar to the ancient XM-8 rifle, but this platform - the AMR-110 - was infinitely more advanced. Pushing .300 caliber rounds from forty-round magazines through a magnetically-accelerated firing mechanism, the AMR fired pain downrange quickly and accurately. Its magnetic propulsion also negated much of the "drop" that plagued old ballistic firearms at longer distances.

Fox rolled down his window and nodded at the German Shepherd who approached. He took half a second to glance at the black steel rank pins on his collar: three upward chevrons over a pair of crossed rifles. "Good morning, Sergeant."

"Sir; ma'am," the sergeant replied from behind his aviators, noting the silver oak leaves fixed to Fox's collar, and the triple vertical silver bars on Krystal's. "Identification, please." Fox and Krystal drew their ID cards from their pockets. Krystal passed hers into Fox's upturned palm, and the vulpine presented both cards to the NCO. He inspected them for several seconds longer than the spacers were accustomed to. Fox couldn't see past the Marine's aviators - much less his immovable stone-faced expression, but he knew his eyes were shifting between them and their cards. The silence bordered on uncomfortable by the time the canine returned their IDs. "Proceed," he said, and stepped back.

"What was that about?" Krystal asked as Fox steered his way onto one of the main roads into Corneria City.

"What was what about?" Fox replied, confused.

"Probably a bomb threat or some shit; who knows?" he said dismissively. The vulpine pulled off the motorway into Corneria City proper. "I wouldn't worry too much; security'd let us know if it's actually serious." He turned on the radio.

"…the Defense Force is on high alert due to increased Venomian military activity. Venomian Republic forces have moved into Sector X and numerous other remote locations across the system over the past three weeks. Officials claim the recent and rapid deployments are the first stage of large-scale war games and disaster response rehearsals. General Cornelius Pepper of the Army met with the Federation Congress this morning for discussions on reactionary measures, and has confirmed a follow-up appointment with Katinan military leaders, scheduled later this week. In other news: pirate activity continues to spread throughout the Sargasso region. Multiple Navy patrol squadrons were targeted in hit-and-run attacks last night, and the Seventh Fleet has been deployed in response–" Fox grumbled and shut off the radio, earning him a concerned look from Krystal in the passenger seat.

"Are you still sure we shouldn't worry?"

The orange vulpine exhaled through his nose. "If real fighting does break out, which I doubt it will, it'll be in Sector X or somewhere else in deep space. Look, the Venomians can play chess in a gas cloud to their hearts' content for all I care. The Cornerian Intelligence Agency says they don't have even half the manpower required to start a war with Katina and Corneria. Hell, they can barely keep a foothold on Macbeth against civilian resistance."

The blue vixen thinned her lips. "And you believe those CIA spooks?"

Fox took his eyes off the road and made eye contact with her as he flipped on his turn signal and made a right. "Staff Lieutenant Krystal Zonoc, you're starting to sound like a conspiracy theorist." There was no hint of command in his voice despite the inclusion of her rank; just a hint of 'are we really going to have this conversation again'.

Krystal looked back out the windshield and at the approaching Starnova coffee shop. "Sorry. It's just that… I just worry sometimes, you know?"

"I completely understand," he reassured her as he zeroed in on a parking spot (which, as always, was much too tight) and threw his car into park. "You can't dwell on it so much, though; it's not healthy."

"I can't help it," Krystal continued as they got out of the car and stretched, "There's this feeling I can't shake. Call me paranoid; I just feel like something is going to happen. Something we aren't prepared for."

"You're paranoid," said Fox the instant she was done speaking. He sighed at her thoroughly unamused expression. "Krystal, nothing's going to happen." He dropped his voice to a soft tone and leveled his eyes with hers. "I promise." After holding eye contact longer than what was considered professional, she exhaled and nodded. Fox smiled, happy at having put her back in a good mood. "Now how about we grab some of that overpriced coffee?"

000

Krystal stared in horror at the receipt as she read through the numbers. She turned to Fox and whispered, "Seven credits for a cup of coffee?"

Fox grinned back down at her, "You wanted Starnova. You're buying." The look she gave him made Fox instantly regret his words.

Krystal turned back to the cashier. "Could I get two chocolate croissants with that, please? Oh, and an extra shot in the latté, too."

The lynx behind the counter nodded, "Certainly. That brings your total up from §7 to… 16.50." She looked over at Fox, "And will you be paying, sir?" Oh God, please don't.

"Yes," was the sapphire vixen's instant reply. She slowly looked back up at her teammate, "He will."

With no real choice in the matter, Fox dug his card out of his pocket and touched it against the scanner. When the machine beeped happily, he felt as if a piece of his soul had just been transferred to the merciless corporate caffeine juggernaut's bank account. Fox gave her a 'what the hell was that for' look as they made the short walk to the other counter to pick up their drinks. "I told you you'd regret scaring me this morning," she said smugly.

Well, I can't really say anything to that, can I?

"No," the blue vixen replied with an amused glint in her eyes, "You can't."

Dammit. Sometimes I forget she's a telepath. Her tail gave a happy swish, having heard that as well, which only made his droop down to the floor. Fox wisely resolved to just stay quiet as they grabbed their steaming coffee cups and sat down at a table by the window.

Krystal started a new conversation as they pulled in their chairs behind them. "So why did you take your Arwing out this morning? We're special ops; we don't go on patrols. And we're on shore leave." She paused and added, "That means we get to sleep in to our hearts' content."

Fox smirked. Krystal was the smartest and kindest person he knew, but God help anyone who would wake her up while they were on leave: unless her body roused itself of its own accord, she was a vicious beast. Falco had made that mistake exactly once. No one, not even Krystal or the avian himself, was ever quite sure how he'd ended up slumped upside down against the wall in six seconds flat, but it was a more than sufficient show of force. Krystal's brandished claws and accompanying venomous hisses and growls certainly helped in that regard.

"I just wanted to make sure she's firing on all turbines," he replied with a shrug.

Krystal rolled her eyes, "Fox McCloud, you just can't stay out of the air, can you?"

"Well, the thrusters were a little slow on response time and my ECM jammers were throwing up warnings."

That piqued her interest. The vixen leaned forward. "Fox, the failure rate of those things is less than two percent. Do you know what caused it?"

He shook his head. "I have no idea, but I've got the techs looking into it." Fox glanced out the window and saw a curious pair of civilians looking up into the sky. He couldn't see what attracted their attention, so he paid them no mind.

"Well, that's good," the vixen commented as she took a long swig from her latté, "But that might not be the only problem."

The vulpine cocked his head to one side. "And how do you figure that?"

"The X-03 series Arwing is fresh from R&D and full of highly experimental technology. Most of that tech, top-of-the-line though it may be, still isn't quite tried and true yet."

Fox nodded, following her so far, "Okay…"

"Even the new diagnostics system is still in its infancy stages, which means the lab boys haven't worked the kinks out of that yet, either. So the very thing that tells us when things are broken could be broken itself."

"You're worried there are other things it hasn't detected."

Krystal gave a firm nod. "Exactly. The last thing I want is for something to happen to you… or any of us, for that matter."

Fox smiled reassuringly. "I've said it before and I'll say it again: don't worry. I'm sure I'll be just fine." He looked up when Krystal didn't respond and noticed her gaze was locked out the window. "Krystal, what's wrong?"

"There are a lot more people out there." Her tone sounded oddly distant. More than a little concerned, the vulpine followed her gaze and his eyes widened. There were easily twenty of them, probably more, all fixated on some unseen object.

Fox's chair scraped against the floor as he stood and snatched his eight-point cap off the table. "I'm going out there." Krystal mirrored his actions and followed him. They both tugged their caps down over their heads as they cleared the door. As the uniformed pair neared the decent-sized crowd, Fox asked, "What's going on?"

The hare closest to him tugged on his arm and pointed up. "Those two planes are fightin', sir!"

Both foxes snapped their heads up. "Krazoa preserve us," muttered Krystal. Two military aircraft were in the middle of a dogfight above them. Fox and Krystal couldn't make a visual confirmation from the ground, but the low, bassy report of an F-9 Falchion shattering the sound barrier was unmistakable. Two of the Cornerian Navy's dual-engined fightercraft knifed out of the cloudline. A missile contrail streaked from the lead element's right wing and hit home in the middle of the enemy plane's fuselage. The foxes on the ground heard the explosion nearly two seconds after they saw it.

Fox spun around. "Lieutenant, get on your comlink. See if ATC back at Willis has anything." All traces of informality were erased from his speech.

"Aye, aye." Krystal pulled her left sleeve up a few inches, switched on her black wristcom and tuned the device to Fort Willis' air traffic control frequency. A barrage of competing voices surged into her left ear through the com's wireless bud, each more demanding and frantic than the last. The sapphire vixen tipped her head down and closed her eyes to focus on sifting through the maelstrom. "Lots of chatter here; can't get anything tangible." Fox didn't respond, but most of the civilians had gone quiet hoping to pick up some of the conversation. "All frequencies have gone absolutely mental… hang on." Auditory input from the outside world seemed to fade away as the Cernian put one of her less intensive powers to use. Her mind spread across several different communications channels, and the most urgent voices floated up to her psyche; their words equally clear and desperate.

"-attack! Say again, Fort Willis is under attack! All airborne elements, disengage if possible and RTB!"

"Troops in contact! Troops in contact! 11th Infantry has troops in contact at 45th and Moreland! Venomians on the ground! Say again, Venomian boots are on the ground!"

"2-Lincoln-12, officer down! Officer down! My partner's shot! We're outgunned; we need help! Where's the goddamned CDF?!"

"Krystal?" Fox cut in, his tone urgent.

The vixen snapped out of her focus at the sound of Fox's voice. "We need to move. Now!"

"How bad is it?"

"Fort Willis is under attack. Venomians. It sounds like they're everywhere."

Varying degrees of panic broke out amongst the civilians, but Fox was quick to put a lid on it. He raised his voice well above even the loudest of their shouting. "Everyone, listen up!" The civvies fell silent like a flipped light switch. "Listen very carefully. There's a metro station two blocks that way." He pointed behind them and to the right. "I need all of you to get over there, get underground, and stay. Don't take any trains; just stay there. Grab everyone you can on the way, but do not go looking for anyone. You'll get caught in the crossfire if you stay topside too long. Don't call 911; the lines will be chaos. Call your families; call your friends; tell them you're safe, and that they need to get underground too. The police or the military will come for you. They'll let you know when it's safe to come up, but until then, stay down. Okay?" Receiving various affirmations, Fox pointed towards the metro station again. "Two blocks that way; get moving!"

The civilians had scarcely taken a step when another explosion ripped through the sky. Fox and Krystal looked up to see one of the dual-engined Falchions spiraling downwards, wreathed in flame and throwing bits of airframe. Its destruction heralded a large Venomian aerial contingent from the West. Both remaining allied fighters broke off and burned fuel Eastward for Fort Willis. Fate's twisted hand angled the downed Navy fighter straight at the two vulpines.

"Son of a bitch… Krystal!" Fox shoved her out of the way and was in the middle of hitting the deck himself, but the wrecked jet beat him to it. The shockwave picked him up off his feet and pitched him headfirst into a parked car. Fox slumped down, fading in and out of consciousness as sirens wailed from every direction.

000

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Damn, it's good to be back. On the other hand, I've got ten more chapters to work through. Ah well, it should be smooth sailing after the first couple; I'm more or less satisfied with my work from chapter four onwards.

Cheers, nerds.

000

CODEX

Cornerian Federation: The Lylat System's long-standing central power. Corneria is the system's most technologically advanced planet, largely due to its multitude of clean energy sources: mass solar power from one of Lylat's two suns, dozens of clean-burning nuclear fusion reactors, and hundreds, if not thousands of geothermal wells dot the planet's surface. High quality education, a strong competitive economy and comfortable lifestyle ensure the populace's happiness. While the superpower is called the Cornerian Federation, the relationship between the homeworld and her colonies is an alliance, rather than direct control. Cornerian military bases, space stations, embassies and other installations are present on nearly all of the colonies, but each planet maintains its own armed forces and enjoys the right to self-determination, within reason of sentient rights and other interplanetary agreements.

Arwing: Developed by Space Dynamics under a commission from the Cornerian armed forces, the ongoing Arwing project aims to develop the ultimate fleet of starfighters; a weapons platform leagues deadlier and infinitely more adaptable than anything Lylat has seen before. The X-03 series is the project's third generation. Faster, tougher and deadlier than any known fightercraft, the Arwing is the undisputed champion of sky and space. The X-03 finally realized Argus Phoenix's dreams of a near-infinitely modular platform: units can now be custom-ordered to almost any specifications. Due to the Arwing's astronomical price, the Cornerian military reserves them for its most elite units.

ECM: Electronic countermeasures. An electronic warfare suite built into the Arwing and some larger Cornerian vessels, from warships to AWACS (Airborne Warning and Control Systems) aircraft. Although the effects of different ECM systems can vary, the basic concept remains the same: disrupt the tracking systems of enemy guided munitions.

Fort Willis Joint Military Base: Hundreds of military bases dot Corneria's surface. Fort Willis is a joint installation: members from all four military branches and the CDF take up residence behind its wire. Named after the General of the Air Corps from two centuries past, Fort Willis is one of the Northern Hemisphere's largest military installations. 120,000 Cornerian troops call Fort Willis home, though a significant portion of that number are always out on deployments. At full capacity, Fort Willis houses 55,000 Army troops, 15,000 Marines, 30,000 Navy spacers, 13,000 airmen, and 7,000 CDF personnel.

Starnova: Literally Starbucks.

Cornerian Defense Force (CDF): The permanent home defense against attacks on Corneria, the CDF grew out of various nations' National Guard services when the Cornerian government went global. The CDF maintains terrestrial, nautical, aerial and spatial arms, and holds jurisdiction over Corneria, its surrounding space, and the Meteo asteroid belt. NOTE TO OTHER AUTHORS: Even in canon, the CDF is NOT an overarching term for the Cornerian military. I see this mistake all the time.

Katina Colonial Republic (KCR): Katina was Corneria's first colony and is now its closest ally. The two planets' systems of government are extremely similar as a result. Katina's military specializes in mobile armored warfare and desert environments, and is the fourth-largest in Lylat, with Corneria, Venom and Fortuna occupying the podium spots in that regard.

Sector X: A region of deep space, Sector X is composed almost entirely of a large Xenon gas cloud, which gives it its signature indigo hue. The zone's high concentration of Xenon and other gases, as well as sporadic electromagnetic disturbances as its elements react, are known to cause issues with scanning equipment.

Cornerian Intelligence Agency (CIA): An Cornerian government agency with systemwide jurisdiction tasked with gathering information, conducting espionage, and when necessary, executing covert actions. Being one of the government's more secluded "cloak and dagger" entities, the CIA attracts much attention from conspiracy theorists and numerous politicians. While officially restricted to interplanetary operations, the CIA is from time to time accused of involvement in questionable events on Cornerian soil. Given just how badly the CIA dropped the ball in regards to measuring the Venomian threat, the question has been raised of whether to remove the current Director, a former Army officer named Reinhardt Shears, from office.

F-9 Falchion: The CDF and Air Corps field the narrow, single-engined, thin-winged AL5 Bottlenose, but the Navy's signature fighter is a heavier beast. The Falchion's dual engines are a standing requirement for all Cornerian naval aircraft. Wider, flatter and better-armored than the AL5 for deep space engagements, the F-9 is a formidable weapons platform. Twin-linked G4 multilaser cannons are housed in the sides of the nose, and the wing mounts can be swapped to accept a wide range of rockets, missiles and guided bombs.