Legacy of the Precursors

Chapter 2: Unyielding

Six silently buckled into the sabre's pilot seat, wondering why he had just unwittingly signed up as a mercenary for an alien civilization on a whim. The damning words had inexplicably uprooted themselves from his lips, his mouth forming the dreaded syllables even as he felt the all-encompassing urge to refuse their unpleasant request. His mind desperately sought justification for such a rash course of action and he told himself it was all for the innocent lives supposedly on the line. However, his mind reasoned that they were in fact not human lives. Therefore he had no actual obligation to defend them.

In the end, the truth was far more simple than that.

He needed conflict to occupy his thoughts, lest he dwell on what the truth of his existence now was.

Without the UNSC he lacked purpose.

Six buried that thought before it got any bigger and focused on what was at hand.

This version of Reach was about to be attacked and this time, it would hold, whether or not it was the world he knew. He supposed in that way he did have a small, if somewhat strained excuse for his hasty decision. He had a sliver of perceived loyalty, based on a flimsy technicality that even a well-versed lawyer could not hope to argue its defense.

Still...it was something, and that was all that mattered.

The spartan guided his sabre into the air and towards the atmosphere, following behind the three pilots he had just met. To his left, he watched as the other fighters that had originally come to trap him were now heading up into orbit as well.

It was amazing how fast things could change.

"Hey new guy, if you can hear this, switch your radio to this frequency."

Six heard the voice come in on an open channel, pinpointing it as belonging to the feline from before and he did as instructed. Moments later she spoke again.

"So...you got it yet?"

"Affirmative." He replied.

"Excellent. Now, since we are going to be flying together, is there any particular name you go by?"

The spartan thought it over. In order for them to function at peak efficiency, designations would be necessary to coordinate in combat.

"Six...you can call me Six."

"Six huh, odd name that. You can call me, the best fighter pilot ever to touch the skies...or Miyu. That works too." The saucy feline imparted to him a throaty chuckle.

The spartan felt a tinge of amusement.

The cat sure was confident.

"The pissy bird's called Falco and the pleasant fox you talked with is Krystal and together we are the primary team for the Starfox mercenary company, in case you didn't know."

So...they were mercenaries. He knew as much.

Six followed them as they broke the atmosphere and sped towards a growing collection of larger vessels gathering around an orbital station to create some form of blockade. It was a grim reminder of a more recent battle with different players. He just hoped that it would also have a different ending.

The majority appeared to be roughly the size of a UNSC destroyer, maybe a little larger and unlike any UNSC ships. The hulls were silvery white and dyed with blue highlights, varying drastically from human shipbuilding practices. For all intents and purposes, they were massive versions of the fighters he had seen, long narrow prows and wedge-like wings.

"So stranger, where are you from?" The avian he had learned to be called Falco asked him, shaking the spartan from his thoughts.

The question dredged up old and painful memories, his helmet suddenly filled with the scent of charred flesh and ionized plasma. Six strangled the approaching grim remembrance and forced himself to focus on the present.

He saw no reason to lie.

"I was born on a world called Concord Dawn."

"Huh, never heard of it, where is that?"

"Far from here..." Six replied neutrally. If what he suspected was true, it was farther than they could imagine.

"Is it a nice place?" Miyu wondered.

"It used to be, before it was destroyed." Six answered, his voice slightly subdued. What few memories he retained from his past painted Concord in a favorable light, before it was glassed of course.

"Your world was destroyed? What happened?" Krystal cut in softly.

This was the first time that the spartan heard the vixen speak since they left the planet's surface. He was curious to note that her earlier hostility had completely evaporated from her tone. In fact, he swore he heard...empathy in its place, a foreign concept that had never been applied to him. For that very reason he decided to humor her with a response.

"War..."

Before the vixen could probe for more details, another voice joined their conversation.

"Glad to see you all up here, the fleet's almost in position."

It was the one they called, Fox.

"Yeah well where do you need us?" Miyu inquired.

"Regroup on the Great Fox, Slippy, Fay, and I already launched."

Six could see the mercenaries' ship at the fore of the burgeoning fleet. Its alternate design and larger size helping it stick out amid the others. Three fighter craft drifted underneath the hanger, their colors marking them as the other members of the team. The ones with him sped off to their companions, the spartan deciding to keep his distance while still close enough to render assistance if necessary. He wasn't here to make friends. He would fight and then...

He didn't know.

What was a spartan without a cause?

He had no answer.

What he did know, was that he was a warrior.

For now, he would fight.


Fox glanced outside of his arwing's cockpit, studying the stranger's ship as it floated at a distance from him and his team. He had been unable to get a good look at him from the Great Fox, but what he did see told him that this man was not to be taken lightly.

The vulpine shifted comms frequencies to a closed band and contacted his team. He wanted to get an opinion from them.

"What do you guys think of our new friend?"

"He's certainly...different." Miyu replied with a chuckle.

"You mean he's a brute." Krystal muttered sullenly as she no doubt slouched in her pilot seat, the vixen not having forgiven the stranger for his earlier transgressions.

Fox smiled.

As pleasant and kind as Krystal was, she did not often suffer the coarseness of others, which was why he had been surprised that she and Falco had not come to blows as of yet. He had a running bet with Peppy as to when the hysterical event would occur. At the moment, the pot was sitting at a hefty five hundred credits and he had been trying to get Slippy and Fay to buy in.

So far he had not had much luck.

"Come on, he can't be that bad. You did chase him down, albeit on my orders, so he's bound to be displeased about that. Give him time."

"Time...? Are you intending for him to remain with us longer?" Krystal inquired in surprise.

Fox couldn't help it.

"Maybe..."

He heard the vixen's dissatisfied intake of breath and grinned wider. He could never resist the urge to tease her. Krystal's ingrained sense of pride made a good source of entertainment, all in good fun of course.

"I would strongly advise against that, Fox. We still know nothing about him." She countered quickly.

"We know that his homeworld was destroyed." Miyu pipped in helpfully.

"Yes...we do know that." The vixen conceded softly.

Fox's smile vanished.

He was intensely aware of Krystal's past. She had come from a broken world, the last of her people. And after seeing how distraught she had been after telling her tale, he had taken her in and let her join his team, a decision he held no regret for. She became the sister he never had, and she did more than that. It was her advice that allowed him to finally confess his feelings for Fara, something he would always be thankful to her for.

"Are you alright Krys?" The vulpine asked hesitantly. He knew that even slight mentions of her homeworld were enough to sink her spirits.

"I am fine, Fox. Thank you for your concern." She accepted his good intentions with a sigh.

She sounded anything but.

Unfortunately there was no time for him to pursue his inquest. The source of the incoming warp signatures would be arriving at any moment and now was not the time for distractions.

He switched back to open comms, for the benefit of their new friend.

"Alright team, if this is as bad as we think, if this is indeed another invasion, I want everybody to be at their best. Fight together and watch each other's backs. Peppy and ROB will provide support in the Great Fox. You know the drill, call out cruisers and let them handle it. I want you to focus on the fighters. And most importantly, stay alive."

A wave of acknowledgments graced his ears, but no response from the stranger.

Fox looked back to his ship and hummed thoughtfully.

He had lost him home as well. Perhaps it had not completely settled with him?

As Fox mused, Peppy's voice came over the radio.

"Warp signatures detected, here they come!"

The entire defense fleet watched as a veritable tide of vessels slipped into realspace, and Fox's morale plummeted.

The brazen red V and simian mug smeared onto their hulls shrieked their loyalty to the universe. It would seem that Venom was not down for the count yet. But who was leading them? Andross had been finally put to rest. The proverbial head had been cut off the snake. So why had they not given in?

As the enemy fleet approached, a cloud of small shapes billowed forth from their underbellies and a bold facetious voice spoke for all to hear.

"Corneria, your judgment is at hand. I, Andrew Oikonny, will avenge the death of my uncle and bring your world to its knees!"

Fox groaned.

Really?

Of all the sapients in the system it had to be Oikonny? He vaguely remembered the ape from their encounters with Starwolf. To be frank, he was the last one Fox suspected of rising to the mantle of leader of Venom, or of anything for that matter. Wolf would have been a better choice, and he hated that guy more than anyone else alive.

"This asshole...again?" Falco gave off a likeminded grunt.

"Didn't you guys already beat him?" Fay inquired in puzzlement. She had heard tales of the team's exploits from the past, vaguely remembering someone by that name.

"Yeah, he wasn't a very good pilot." Slippy added, ignorant to the irony of his declaration.

"I guess we'll just have to remind him not to mess with Starfox." Miyu growled excitedly, the feline eager for a fight.

Fox flipped through the comms, speaking directly to the cornerian admiral.

"We'll lead the charge, Sir."

The admiral responded gravely. "Very well, the fleet will provide assistance. Good luck, Starfox."

"Never had need of it," Fox replied with a chuckle as he scrutinized the swarm of enemy fighters beginning their advance and ready to address his team. "Remember, stay to-"

A flash of movement cut him off and the startled vulpine watched as the stranger's fighter gunned ahead, blazing a wild trail of blue afterburn as he rocketed to what could only be a certain death. Fox knew there was no way he could hope to engage so many enemies and survive.

"Hey, Six, where the hell are ya going?!" Miyu demanded. The feline had been taken aback by their new companion's sudden action. She had just met this interesting individual and he now seemed content in throwing his own life away, which baffled her.

The man offered no response as he continued his suicidal charge.

"Thickheaded fool..." Krystal scoffed quietly, but her seemingly unconcerned remark held little spite, the vixen sounding concerned for him, too kind to hold an earnest grudge for long.


Six had his targets in sight, heedless of the feline's concerned call. A battle had been offered to him, and he was in no mood to decline. The familiar and welcomed call to war filled his fighting spirit with contentment. It was good to be back with something he could understand. As he observed his adversaries, Six grinned behind his visor.

The spartan was fortunate that the enemy supplied him with so many tempting choices.

He would just have to take them all.

As his sabre closed in on the approaching tide, he armed the entire arsenal of medusa missiles and released the safety on the 30mm twin autocannons.

The horde of enemy strike craft eagerly zeroed in on the lone fighter seemingly throwing itself into the fire, unaware of the grave mistake they had made.

They were facing no easy foe.

This was a spartan.

'Target's locked.'

Six pressed the firing stud and a storm of warheads hurled forth in a blooming cloud of exhaust, like the thundering hurricane of an angry god.

The clusters of enemy craft were too close together to effectively evade the oncoming tempest and were helpless as the flurry of missiles detonated amongst them.

His first clash with this new enemy instantly revealed new information to him.

There ships were not as shielded or armored as covenant vessels.

The missiles tore them apart, plowing through their flimsy energy barriers and thin hulls, the explosions alone causing catastrophic damage, regardless of whether they had successfully hit or not. The entire first wave was not but sundered wrecks, drifting amidst a slowly developing debris cloud of vacuumed corpses and cooling alloys.

Six ghosted past the remains and aimed his rampage towards the next cluster of enemies, these far more hesitant to engage.

His success however, was not without cost.

Missiles Depleted

The warning boldly displayed itself on the sabre's console and instigated a frown from its pilot.

It looked like he would have to do this the old fashioned way.

That suited him just fine.

After a few moments the enemy gathered their courage and moved to attack, after all...

It was just one ship. How much damage could it really do?

The Starfox team watched on in rising wonder as the stranger singlehandedly engaged the entirety of Oikonny's fighter core. He had completely annihilated the first wave with a single volley of missiles and was now tearing into the second with what looked like ballistic based cannons.

"I had a feeling he was good...but damn." Falco exclaimed in admiration. It was quite a feat to garner the avian's esteem, and this definitely qualified.

Fox had no idea that they had been pursuing an ace, and he was now very interested in figuring out who this man was. Fighter pilots of his caliber were about as common as a dust storm on Aquas. Such abilities only came with experience and the vulpine was confident he would have heard of a pilot with his prowess sometime during his career.

Miyu watched as the one who called himself a number pulled a sharp turn, coming behind a pack of venomian bombers and picking them apart with surgical bursts of his autocannons, leaving smoldering husks in his wake. At that moment, she decided that she would very much like to speak with this man in greater detail, hoping that Fox had been serious about thinking of letting him join. He would no doubt have a few interesting techniques to show her and she was always eager to learn.

"Reckless, he's going to get himself killed." Krystal muttered disapprovingly. His skills may have been impressive, maybe more than so, but in her opinion, his lone wolf attitude was a fatal flaw. You could fight as many battles as you wanted on your own, but without a team you were waiting for the inevitable.

"I don't know, it looks like he's doing fine by himself." Slippy disagreed, watching in awe as he weaved through a veritable avalanche of lasers, still managing to take down a pair of unlucky pilots in a flash of light.

"That's all and well, but shouldn't we do our job now?" Fay cut in impatiently. Her stance was similar to Krystal's, although she just wanted to get in there and do something. He may have been doing an admirable job, but there were many more fighters to take the place of the ones that had fallen, and there were far more things to face then them.

The venomian fleet disregarded the dogfight and was approaching the CDF battle line. Soon the real fight would begin, and it would be best to get in now.

"Fay's right, let's move. It's time to show them what we can do. On me!"

Fox pushed forwards on his flight stick and raced off to join the stranger, his team close behind.

Six growled wrathfully as a volley of lasers splashed against his sabre's shields, dropping them down several percentages. These laser weapons were not as effective as covenant plasma, but they were far more accurate and numerous, making up for their inefficiencies while proving more difficult to avoid.

The spartan depressed the firing stud and perforated the unfortunate enemy strike craft locked in his sights. His satisfaction bloomed, as did the firestorm created by the destruction of his target.

On his command console the radar was filled with red dots buzzing all around him, like a swarm of maddened wasps forced from their nest. A crimson tide whirled around his cockpit as the enemy desperately attempted to put down the ruthless pilot in their midst.

The spartan-III's gauntlets dexterously manipulated his flight stick, dancing through the haze of red death, his autocannons roaring their fury to the heavens.

Six had slain uncountable numbers behind both sabre and longsword alike. His skills with fighter craft were without equal. Just like his fellow spartans he excelled in all forms of warfare, whether with his boots on the ground or behind the control of UNSC and covenant machines of war.

These petty weaklings were barely deserving of the title of pilots, relying on the sheer weight of numbers to overcome their foes and their blatant inadequacies. The glaring disparity between their numbers and their actual skill elicited a derisive chuckle from the human supersoldier.

He would be glad to end their insufferable ignorance.

A pair of these mediocre fighters dropped in behind him, believing that they had gained the upper hand. He was about to dissuade them from that foolish notion when they evaporated under a fusillade of bright green daggers of energy soaring down righteously from above.

The instigator of this attack none other than one of the mercenaries from before, who whooped boisterously over the comms as she blazed past him.

He caught a flash of feline ears, amber eyes, and a smirking muzzle before he lost sight of the interloper, already chasing down another batch of unlucky victims.

Six didn't know whether to grin or snarl in rage.

Instead he satisfied himself with finding another target.

But the pickings were slim as the rest of the mercenary team had arrived, cutting apart the enemy with commendable ease.

The spartan was willing to admit, they were indeed skilled. He was not so stubborn as to deny that, but they were not up to par with the soldier's grueling standards.

They were sloppy and took a certain...revelry, in their actions that offended him. Six was a killer, he would be the last to dispute that fact. He had executed numerable victims, some pleading for life in a futile hopefulness that he would spare them. Six had been an asset for the office of naval intelligence for most of his career. He was no stranger to dark deeds. The difference was that he had made peace with his inner demons. He shouldered that heavy burden, knowing full well what that made him. And though he did not seem like it, Six valued life above all things, an odd concept for a merciless assassin.

To him life was sacred, a gift given to all. And he was willing to surrender his own to defend those that were incapable of defending themselves. Not only that but he was willing to sully his very soul with heinous atrocities if it meant that others did not have to suffer the same fate.

Six knew that he was no hero. His actions were not that of a gallant man, he was a murderer, disguised as a selfless martyr.

But at least he had accepted what he was, embraced his darkness.

These aliens however, they did not seem to realize the magnitude of their actions. Each ship they shotdown was a life ended, years of emotions, thoughts and beliefs eradicated in a bright flash of agony.

And they bantered as they killed, seemingly uncaring of the lives they destroyed.

For that, Six was not sure what to think. All the marines he had encountered and many of the pilots were the same. Perhaps that was how they coped with what they did?

After all, they lacked the fortitude and resilience of a spartan.

Could he really blame them for willingly hiding under false pretenses and honeyed words? For doing their best to ignore the truth behind their actions, for hiding behind their flimsy façade of obliviousness?

Perhaps not...

Six shot down another enemy fighter, watching as it spiraled into the deep blackness, wreathed in flames that soon died out in the oxygen deprived vacuum of pace, leaving the burned out wreck to be lost in the unforgiving void.

Perhaps he should not be the one to judge them for their actions.

After all, a man who had only known the carnage of war and had killed for most of his life was a poor advocate on preaching on the morality of others.

A bright cascade of light grabbed his attention and Six watched as the two fleets finally clashed, trading bright lances of color coded energy splashing against robust energy barriers.

It was strange to see two factions on equal terms. The UNSC's fight with the covenant had always been and would continue to be, devastatingly one-sided. The only reason they were able to pull off any victories was through the sheer determination and unflinching resolve of both the navy and the army.

MAC cannons also helped some.

All his life Six had fought losing battles, so it was quite a turn of events to be on even ground.

It was time he changed that for the better.

Six spotted an enemy cruiser, about the size of a Paris-class frigate, as it doled out volley after volley of ordnance upon a smaller friendly vessel. The shields were holding, but Six could visibly see the strain it was being put through, the strange blue barrier enveloping it withering under the assault. Soon its defenses would buckle and the high intensity laser lances would cleave through unprotected hull plating and spell the end of its occupants.

He would have to put a stop to that.

Six was not certain what he could do without his medusa missiles, but he could not just leave them to their fate.

He may be a fresh face to this place and its odd populace, but he had sided with them, for good or ill. And when he gave his allegiance, it was not something to be taken lightly.

Seeing that the dogfight was in good hands with this Starfox crew, he coasted away and towards the cruiser weight vessel.

As he neared, he spied an inconsistency on the overall design. There was a large spherical orb comprising the center of its construction. To his experienced eye, it was a glaring structural weakness.

And one he intended to exploit to the utmost.

Six directed the nose of his sabre at the strange protrusion and unleashed a fearsome volley from his autocannon, the hail of explosive ordnance crashing into his target with the force of several scorpion battle tanks.

The fusillade detonated upon the cruisers shields, taxing the already strained reactors, occupied with deflecting the shots from its beleaguered target.

Under attack from twin directions, the shields could no longer cope and they burst, scattering fading shards of light into space.

Now unprotected, Six's barrage burrowed into the fragile orb-like construct that dominated the heart of the enemy vessel. Lattices formed along its edges, spiraling towards the center as the merciless flurry of 30mm depleted uranium shells that could punch through and armored bunker, smashed against its crystalline surface.

Six's visor polarized as a blinding flash of light ripped through the local space, the orb bursting into millions of miniscule shards, the cruiser now snapped in half along the developing fault lines of crumpled alloy, the two halves forced away from each other by the flames and force of the detonation.

The ship he had saved pulled away from its position and hobbled back towards the friendly battle line, trailing leaking reactor fluids, lucky that was all it seeped. It could have easily trailed corpses in its wake if not for his intervention.

Six was about to leave and let it limp home when he spotted a pack of enemy fighters closing in on its rear, either oblivious or uncaring of his presence. At its current speed the vessel would not return in time to avoid the potentially lethal attack and any other able bodied friendly fighters were too busy fighting their own little wars. The spartan sighed as he shifted his attention, speeding towards the oncoming attack craft.

In the end they proved to be little challenge and he took up guardianship of the retreating vessel, leaving the shattered remnants of the strike craft that had so foolishly attempted to accost the object under the spartan's protection.

Acting as the wounded ship's shepherd, he led it back to its comrades before peeling away to once more join the cacophony of war, somewhat content in his newfound purpose.


Fox watched as the stranger directed the wounded cruiser back to their battle line, repulsing a second attack from the forces of Venom. He could not help but feel some strange sense of pride as he watched that venomian battlecruiser go up in flames.

It was a welcome feeling to have the aid of another experienced fighter pilot. Such were few and far between among the forces of Corneria. The only ones that he knew of that were not already in his team were Bill and Katt. But both were off on their own little duties, the bulldog was overseeing the outpost on Katina and Katt herself was doing her own solo mercenary stint.

And as much as he hated to admit it, the CDF fighter core was severely lacking. Most of the experienced pilots had been killed in the First Lylat war and the rest were mostly raw recruits given a few weeks of rushed training before being thrown out to fight for their struggling republic.

Fox did not doubt their courage, rather he admired it, but they were ill equipped to face the unflinching tides of Venom. How their enemy continuously drew from seemingly inexhaustible sources of capital and able bodies to fuel their war effort baffled the vulpine and frustrated him to no end.

They would have need of every experienced soldier they could get their hands on, especially if this attack was the precursor to a new war. He would have to find a way to entice the stranger into joining their cause. From what he had shortly gathered about this...Six, he was a defender of innocents. Perhaps he could use that card again to bring him around?

A shudder through space snatched his thoughts away and Fox watched in sorrow as a CDF cruiser imploded, hammered by relentless attacks from the remaining venomian battlecruisers. Just like that, a thousand servicemen and woman gone in an instant, either strangled by the void or broiled alive by harsh lasers.

By now most of the venomian fleet was in ruins. The early warning by the new long range detection grid developed by Slippy's father had allowed them enough time to consolidate their navy before the venomians arrived. With a unified front it was far easier to repel the attack, but casualties could not hope to be completely prevented, only reduced. Still...it was far better than he could have hoped.

Despite this, Venom's navy seemed steadfast in their mission. It was easy to see which ship Oikonny resided in, the largest of the enemy vessels cowering behind its forces, using them as a shield.

Of course the spineless ape would not participate, preferring to let his army suffer for his diabolic goals. Such cowardice inflamed Fox's anger, the seething vulpine grasping his controls in shaking paws.

The mad dictator was no better than his deceased uncle, speaking of restoring Venom to its former glory but not willing to expend the personal effort to accomplish that goal.

Fox was about to order his team to attack the simian's command ship when he saw the stranger's fighter cleave a violent path of destruction towards it, destroying anything crazy enough to stand in his way.

It would seem he was in a similar mind as Fox in regarding the ape.

As the stranger's ship disappeared into the belly of the dreadnought's hanger, Fox rallied his team and moved to join their new companion in his endeavor, hoping that they might be able to rip the heart out of this insurgency before it could fully develop.


Six stepped over the cooling corpse of some reptilian clad in flimsy black armor, nothing more than machined plastic molded to the unfortunate soldier's person. He supposed it might do something to protect against this laser technology so widely used in this outlandish place, but it did not hold up to the 7.62x51mm FMJ Armor-Piercing rounds of his MA37, which just went to show why humanity had always favored ballistic weapons.

The spartan cycled a new magazine into his bullpup rifle and glanced about the hanger he had effectively slaughtered his way through. Corpses were sprawled about the large expanse, fresh pools of blood encircling their expended forms.

He had come crashing amongst them like an avenging angel, slaying all in his sight. Their weapons, while numerous, were inadequate in even breaking past his shields. The reverse engineered covenant tech seemed to provide better protection then whatever they had to offer, and none of the foot soldiers he encountered were equipped with shielding technology of their own, leaving them at a distinct disadvantage.

As he observed his morbid handiwork, the spartan was reminded that had come here with a specific purpose in mind.

This ship was located behind the enemy lines, quite an obvious place for a VIP, perhaps even the leader of this invasion. That pompous sounding fool, Oikonny as he heard him called.

Finally, the enemy must have noticed his arrival as the familiar howl of warning klaxons graced his MJOLNIR's audio sensor suite. The blaring cautionary tones dampened by his armor's passive protective systems.

Six headed for a large bulkhead, watching as it opened and a squad of these base aliens rushed in, pointing their pathetic weapons at him in what they must have figured to be an intimidating display of might.

In answer, the spartan chuckled darkly and racked the bolt of his rifle's slide, chambering the next deadly round.

This realm did not know what a spartan was.

He would be delighted to enlighten them.


Fox and the others set down in the dreadnought's hanger, fully expecting a fight on their paws, instead all they were met with were bloodied corpses riddled with ragged holes in their splintered armor.

The stranger's craft sat idle at the epicenter of the massacre, piles of brass colored shell casings' littering the deck underneath its landing struts.

"By the spirits...!" Krystal declared in unbelieving shock, taking in the glut of carnage before hers and the others stunned eyes.

It would seem that their companion was just if not more lethal on the ground as he was in the air. And the vixen found herself unashamedly glad she had not sought to pick a fight with him earlier. As this revealed, such a confrontation would not have ended well on her part.

The sight before them even stayed Falco's unconscious desire for snide comments, the avian instead electing to hold his assault blaster in a tighter grip.

Slippy had always carried a weak constitution, and the sight before him took all of his effort not to be sick. It was far worse than anything he had seen before. The toad grabbed an oil stained rag from his tool belt and held it up to his nose, preferring the unpleasant scent of lubricant rather than the sickening tang of freshly spilt blood and offal.

"I think I'm going to be sick."

"I might as well." Fay agreed, pinching her nose shut.

Fox shared a quick glance with Miyu before taking control of their group. She was one of the few present that had seen such level of death before, albeit on a different battlefield.

"Come on, we can dwell on this later. Now we need to catch up and stop Oikonny."

With his commanding words, they buried their concerns and followed him past the open doors of the hanger, spying even more corpses decorating the hallway. It seemed that this stranger's bloodlust knew no bounds.

Some of them had looked to have been prostrating on their knees before death claimed them, which meant that they had surrendered, and been ignored.

The thought that this man had disregarded their pleas and murdered them in cold blood chilled their souls. It was quite obvious that they knew nothing about their odd companion. Perhaps Krystal had been wise in suggesting that they distance themselves from him.

But, unknown to him, the vixen was more concerned for the stranger than the dead venomians. She held little sympathy for the lackeys of Andross or his craven nephew. It was the ape's will that led to her planet's annihilation. And anyone affiliated him deserved whatever fate befell them.

No.

What troubled her was the stranger himself.

With or without her powers, the vixen was an excellent judge of character. And she could see the barely repressed rage in the trail of death he had left in his wake. Whether he knew it or not, he was still haunted by the loss of his world and of whatever sorrows had been sown into his life. She could see it in the broken bones and blood covered bodies of those left behind. This Six channeled his aggression and hate into his lust for battle, fueling the fires of his wrath. This man's past troubled him deeply, that much she could tell.

Despite their glaring differences, she could not help but feel some modicum of kinship with this brutal warrior. He had lost his home and all he did was express this agony in ways other than she. Where Krystal sought solace in compassion and understanding, his reconciliation was derived from the discord of war and the exaltation of conflict.

Despite her earlier reaction to his harsh ways, she felt the desire to offer some consolation to him when next the chance made itself available to her, if it ever did.

For the team, there was no enemy to fight, just a breadcrumb trail of broken corpses, a gruesome path leading into the heart of the venomian dreadnought.

As they neared what they suspected to be the bridge, the faint din of combat echoed through the open passage, the source, a broken bulkhead at the end of the hall.

Upon closer inspection they realized that an enormously strong pair of hands had pulled the steel apart, the mold of the person's fingers still etched into the metal. Once more they were reminded that they knew nothing of this individual, especially of his apparent great strength.

The high pitched whine of lasers was suddenly cut with the emergence of a pained shriek that carried itself from the broken door, silence preceding the sickening crunch of broken bones.

Falco took a step back and gestured to the door as he looked to Fox.

"After you oh brave and magnanimous leader."

The vulpine scoffed and unholstered his sidearm before stepping towards the cleaved entrance, pausing at the threshold. With a silent gulp, he steadied his nerves and slipped inside.

He was unsurprised to discover more bodies.

He did however note that there was someone still alive, that being the massive armored form of whom he hoped to be this Six fellow. Otherwise, he was sure his life was now forfeit as he gazed down the barrel of a rifle.

His observation on the Great Fox had been wholly insufficient in imparting the true size and scope of the warrior currently towering over him. Six was a colossal block of muscle and steel, the hulking man covered in dense slabs of armored plates. His once pristine blue and white glyphed armor was marred by splashes of crimson lifeblood and gristle from sources Fox did not want to dwell on. His height had to breach the seven foot mark and his helmets crest added several centimeters, which upon inspection did not matter when he had already attained such a stature.

Fox was tall for a cornerian, standing at 5'5. So when next to someone of this man's height, he could feel his smaller size keenly. Now he knew what it was like to be looked down on.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

Realizing that he was still in the soldier's gunsights, he passed off one of his trademark chuckles, though weak and timid, and unconsciously rubbed the back of his furred head.

"Heya, name's Fox. Remember me?"

The soldier silently regarded him with his imposing silver visor and as the uncomfortable seconds drew on, Fox let out another gulp and felt an uncharacteristic drop of sweat trail down his brow.

"Mccloud..."

The abrasive speech of the warrior made Fox, flinch. But he also let out a sigh of relief as the gun lowered several fractions, enough for him to resume breathing.

"Yeah that's me." Fox grinned sheepishly.

In response, the giant nodded curtly and slung the rifle onto his back, the vulpine absently noting that his armor used some sort of magnetic property to lock the weapon into place.

With him identified the giant seemed content with sitting in silence, which only sought to unnerve the vulpine further.

"Come on out guys." Fox called, watching as his team stream in with hesitation, soon equally rendered awestruck at the size and natural intimidation given to the large soldier.

The tension was quite obvious to all as the man offered no words.

It was only broken when Slippy, as his name suggested, had a slip of tongue.

"Wow you're big."

Hearing the sound of his own voice made the toad squeak and clamp his mouth shut, glancing up at the stranger as if he would take offense at his offhanded statement.

The silence became deafening as they all waited to see what his reaction was, and were stunned by the discordant sound of his chuckle.

"What you speak is true little frog."

"Actually, I'm a toad." Slippy replied automatically, having been confused with his fellow amphibians for most his life. And, amusingly, upon hearing that he had spoken again the toad released another yelp and clamped his mouth shut.

"Hmm...so you are." The man replied neutrally.

His stance shifted slightly and he reached once more for his weapon.

"I am correct in assuming that you all are here with a likeminded goal?" He was of course referring to his plan on taking out Andrew Oikonny. It was a logical assumption, they would no doubt wish to see the enemy leader dead, mayhap more than he did. Six was merely here to facilitate his need for battle and defend innocents from what he had been told of these foes' intentions.

"Yes, we must stop Oikonny while we still can." Fox nodded assertively, regaining some of his lost confidence.

"Then in this instance we are allies once more. I will lead...if there is no disagreement with that?" He inquired with what they could have sworn was amusement.

"By all means, if you wanna soak up all the lasers be my guest." Falco shrugged, shouldering his weighty blaster. The avian was unwilling to back down from his usual antics, giant death warrior or not.

Miyu widened her eyes and turned to see what the other's response would be.

The stranger regarded Falco with his impassive silver mask, nodding after a few moments.

"As you wish...I doubt your scrawny feathered form would whether a storm of lasers as well as I." With that the armored warrior turned and proceeded to take the next passageway up towards the dreadnought's bridge with the resounding thunder of his massive boots.

Miyu giggled and grinned widely at the avian's dumbstruck beak before following the giant's departure. If he could make a good jest on Falco's expanse then he couldn't be that bad of a guy.

Krystal eyed his retreating form, continuously surprised by his actions. For all her skill, she could not gain a successful analysis of him. Perhaps time would tell?

With that she gripped her staff firmly and followed her feline friend with the rest of her team.


Six held back an irritated groan.

With these aliens following along his speed and abilities would be severely hampered. But he would rather have them where he could keep a close eye on them. The spartan had very little trust to give, and if they proved to be enemies and broke what miniscule amount he had placed in them, he wished to be close, to enact his retribution.

Despite his slowed pace, the furred aliens had a difficult time keeping pace with his grueling stride, his boots eating up the distance a meter at a time. Seeing them lag, he released a pent up sigh and slowed, just enough for them to plod after him.

If anything they would be useful in absorbing enemy fire.

The spartan did not have a very high opinion of aliens, covenant or not. The sundering of his homeworld made him into a bitter creature at times. They should be thankful he did not accept their first greeting with weapons fire, as pleasing as that thought had first been, he refrained. It would have been foolish to make a move without further intelligence. And once this battle was over, he intended to acquire enough to plan his next action.

Six halted, a bulkhead impeding further progress. It would seem that the enemy had locked down the ship in the stir of his arrival. This was not the first barrier placed against him on this ship. But, he could see that it was of a different sturdier make then the other. That could only mean he was nearing his goal.

Seeing the daunting barrier, the irksome bird chose to open his aggravating beak once more.

"So wise guy, what do we do now?"

Six reeled back a thickly armored fist and plunged it into the bulkhead, his fearsome strength carving through the weak alien metal. With an opening made he reached his other gauntlet in and forced the obstacle open, the high pitched groan of tortured metal screeching rampantly in the hallway. Soon he had ripped it open sufficiently enough for his prodigious bulk and lurched through, his shields activating as lasers erupted from the now open doorway. The enemy defenders startled into surprised action, stunned that someone had physically torn it open with their hands.

The spartan briskly surveyed the area.

It would seem that he had arrived at the bridge, a vast area of lit up duty stations were staged equally throughout the open chamber and a wide viewport afforded a look at the outside battle in real time. And it seemed that the side he had elected to fight for was winning. The number of enemy ships had dropped since last he saw and the rest looked to be in the midst of a fighting withdrawal.

A beam of energy sparking of his glimmering shields reminded the spartan of his current battleground. The bridge crew was cowering behind their machines as what he could only assume to be the security team attempted to bring him down with concentrated volleys of their weak laser weapons, the thin lasers meekly fizzing against his barriers.

At the rate his shields were dropping, he was not overly concerned by it.

In a flash of movement, the magnum at his side was released from its magnetic clamp and the small weapon barked in rapid succession, the security team's corpses hitting the deck in sync with the shells flying out of the sidearm's ejection port.

The smoke drifted from the heated barrel and he returned it to his side.

If they had only been that infuriating avian.

Six scanned the bridge, searching for the enemy leader. He did not know what he looked like, but judging from his attitude, his apparel would suitably match his inane speech.

Behind him, the members of Starfox entered through the breach he had made and saw once more his swift and deadly handiwork. The bridge crew of the dreadnought offered no resistance as they trembled by their stations, waiting for the giant to dole out its judgment.

But Six stayed his hand, expending ammunition on them would be wasteful. He was running off a limited supply, what he had on him and what was stored on his sabre. There was no telling if it would be enough to see him through this and so he would have to be tight with his consumption.

The spartan, as reluctant as he was, had an idea.

"Is he here?" Six asked, turning to the team. They would know what the enemy leader looked like.

The orange furred vulpine did a swift once over of the bridge before frowning.

"No...he's not."

That was...unfortunate.

Six looked out the bridge and saw a small craft no bigger than a pelican, speeding away.

"Oikonny..." Fox muttered angrily, the spartan needed no aid in deciphering that.