A/N: Well, this is it. My last chapter. The story is nowhere near complete of course and (surprisingly) from what used to be a mini-project in which I wasn't sure of where to go, I ended up working out most of the plot. I'll be working on my novel as my next project but from time to time, I'll throw in short stories here and there. My short stories can be found at my deviant art website at: .com/
Do pay it a visit!
Still, if anyone comes begging for a continuation, I'll add in mini chapters after this chapter. I promise you a fun last chapter ahead. Enjoy!
Cornerian Calendar 6032nd Cycle 27th May, 8.35pm Cornerian Hours, Cornerian Capital
"And what makes us think we can trust you?" retorted Wolf O'Donnell smugly. Stalwart arms lay crossed over each other as he surveyed his guest with suspicion.
Seated upon a chair in front of him was Krystal. A hood lay draped over her head, concealing the feathery tresses of her cobalt hair and veiling Krystal's sea-green eyes. Two pointed ear protruded from either side of her crown, leaving a jut in the hood. Her parka concealed a curvaceous frame. Krystal placed a pensive digit upon her chin before continuing.
"I have been…retrenched by Mister McCloud. I just need a stable income; no ulterior motives here O'Donnell," she replied. A slender finger traced the outlines of her cup as she observed Wolf's reaction.
Wolf snorted. "Mister McCloud? Broke up with him eh? Well, for all we know, that could be a scam. Could be a trick devised by you guys to spy on Star Wolf. Give us proof you're not lying first, and then we talk."
Krystal sat poised on her seat in regal disdain. Star Wolf wasn't very welcoming, she could see that. She half considered turning tail and leaving right now but…no…she would persist on. Joining Star Wolf was the best way of showing Mister McCloud she didn't need men like him.
Still, she did wish the meeting location was somewhere more decent. Instead, she ended up seeing Star Wolf in a seedy bar at a place known affectionately by the denizens of Corneria as the wrong side of town. Neon signs lined the sullen streets, promising patrons alcohol and a 'good time'. Illegal gambling dens spilled onto the filthy roads which were cramped to the brim with shifty looking characters and ruffians alike.
Krystal sighed. "Alright then, have it your way."
She lowered her eyelids, secreting away her emerald orbs. For a second, nothing happened. Leon and Panther, who flanked Wolf, gazed at Krystal expectantly. Wolf frowned and lowered his maw.
Suddenly, the lupine's eyes widened in shock. He gasped, his body assuming a posture of rigidness. Wolf's partners gaped in surprise; they had never seen their leader loose his cool this way before.
Wolf began clutching the sides of the bar counter in a vice like grip. His veins protruded and his fist turned white. Even the sturdy counter itself began to tremble. The bartender stared at them with dubious eyes, not realizing the mug he was filling was overflowing.
Leon opened his mouth to protest but Wolf recovered before any words came out. He inhaled deeply and shook his head in wonderment.
"That was…enlightening…" rasped Wolf O'Donnell, his visage ashen white. Cold sweat dripped down from beneath his grey mane.
"Believe me now?" asked Krystal. For a few moments, Wolf said nothing. His companions scrutinized his every expression closely, waiting for a frown or smile which would divulge his answer.
However, the lupine became cocky once more as the effects of Krystal's projected mental image wore away. "How do I know that… mental image or whatever you call it was real?" snapped Wolf, "You could have been making those pictures up!"
Krystal sighed exasperatedly. "Look, I've done all I could to convince you. If you want to turn away a telepathist from joining your team, go ahead then. I'm sure telepathy is a common skill every Cornerian has," she retorted. She took a swig of her mug and slammed it hard upon the counter.
"Let that flower join us…she does have a point," Panther chirped in. He flashed Krystal a smile which she promptly ignored.
"I wasn't asking you," growled Wolf aggressively. Panther gave a nonchalant shrug and casually placed both arms behind his head, all the while eyeing Krystal with piqued interest.
"Alright…I trust you. You're in. But be warned…no funny business around here. We don't take kindly to traitors," fumed Wolf.
Panther grinned from ear to ear and added in, "A pleasure to have you in the team my gem."
Krystal rolled her eyes. She detested womanizers like Panther.
Wolf O'Donnell reluctantly raised a paw and offered it to Krystal.
"So, we have an agreement?" he asked, though mistrust still glimmered in his eyes. Krystal took the paw and shook it. "We have an agreement."
"Great. Well, Leon, Panther and I have some private matters to discuss first. We'll meet at the Pericles Space dock entrance in an hour's time. So…" Wolf never had a chance to complete his sentence. He stopped mid-sentence upon hearing the familiar breaking-news jingle pipe up on the bar's TV set. Every head in the bar whipped around, eyes glued onto the holographic screen.
The newscaster popped onto the screen, poker-faced.
"We interrupt this program for a news-breaking broadcast," he announced humorlessly, "Barely three hours ago the Cornerian Military has officially announced that the Lylat System may very well be on the verge of a new war ."
An audible series of gasps rang throughout the bar.
"Commander-in-Chief, General Pepper has confirmed at 0345 Universal Hours, May 27th that the Cornerian military; or more specifically the 3rd Space Recon Squadron, encountered a fleet of ships whose origins are unknown. The military has confirmed that conflict with these unknown forces have been ongoing for an unspecified amount of time. General Pepper here gives an update," with that, the screen switched to Pepper. Krystal sympathized with him upon seeing Pepper's face.
General Pepper seemed harassed and moody. And all that while, eager reporters jostled around him. A band of bodyguards did their best to form a ring around their superior as he made his way to an awaiting convoy of hover-jeeps.
"General Pepper, how will Corneria fare in this war? Our armed forces have already been depleted by the Aparoid invasion…" a hovering microphone extended itself to reach Pepper's mouth and cameras flashed excitedly around him.
"We still have several fleets left in reserve that were mostly untouched by the Aparoids. Also, at this time it is not known the full size of the… unidentified fleet. They may very well be a skirmish force…" Pepper replied dully.
Before he even had time to recover, another question barged its way in.
"General, shouldn't the military have attempted negotiation with the aliens before engaging in conflict?" another reporter hurriedly jutted in.
General Pepper frowned, as if insulted by the question. "This military is not impetuous in our actions," he retorted, "We did open diplomatic channels with the fleet but the…unidentified beings chose war instead and have refused all attempts to negotiate. The welfare of all Lylatians is in the mind of the administration so rest assured all actions taken by the military have been well thought of."
As Pepper finished, more queries barged its way through. More reporters jostled their way towards General Pepper, hollering their questions as they did. The screen panned back to the reporter, his sober-sided face looming over the patrons of the bar.
"Further reports have also confirmed that the military has already taken losses from the alien fleet and that the fleet in question is presently somewhere in the Lylat system outskirts. At this point, Aparoid and Venomian involvement is becoming more and more unlikely. This has been a Cornerian Prime News broadcast; we shall now resume the previous program." The breaking-news jingle played over once more and the newscaster's face disappeared.
"…Well, see you in an hour I think" said Wolf as he got up. Leon and Panther followed suit. The trio swiftly made their way for the door. As the door was closing behind them, Krystal could already hear Leon's raspy voice muttering anxiously and Wolf looking disturbed by the recent developments.
Krystal paid for the drink and hastily left the bar. Intuition told her action and danger was looming in the horizon; and she was going to be a part of it.
"Never a dull moment," she muttered to herself spiritlessly. Airy tendrils of azure blue danced over her face as a gentle breeze washed over Krystal. A pearlescent moon hung high in the sky, though barely discernible amongst the many skyscrapers that occupied the onyx-hued heavens. Krystal wandered down the cheerless streets, soon lost amongst the populace.
Cornerian Calendar May 27th 0345 Universal Hours, Tiranus II Extraction Point
"It's been three bloody hours. Is extraction coming or what?" fumed Samson. He paced around the clearing listlessly, every now and then casting a cursory glance at the afternoon sky.
"Private, here's an order. Shut up," growled John Husky in reply.
Samson complied and fell mute. John gazed at his squad. Even his partners seem to be loosing their patience with the prolonged wait for evacuation. Bryans however, was silent. He sat a little away from the rest of the squad by the cliff, facing the direction of their fallen base.
John observed Tyrone Bryans concernedly. Loosing your best friend was hard and Husky had been through times like these. John Husky pondered his course of action; before finally settling on getting up and seating himself beside Bryans. Bryans barely registered Husky's presence. His glazed orbs seemed to be peering into distant worlds and memories John Husky could not see.
"He'll make it," John quietly told the lupine. Bryans looked up, once lively eyes now unseeing and dull. John felt a pang of pity for the wolf.
"Cooper's smart. Anyway, he was in the sick bay away from the fight. If anything happens, he'll figure a way out to escape." John confidently announced to Bryans.
Bryans laughed humorlessly. "Still, that's just speculation…those aliens might have surrounded the whole base…no one would escape then…"
John smiled. "That's also speculation Bryans. In times like these, sometimes… hoping is the best thing to do. The only thing you can do. I've been through it…I should know…"
Bryans goggled at Husky. "You mean…you and your girlfriend….I thought it was rumor," he mumbled, as if afraid to anger his captain. He averted his gaze to the frozen earth below and rubbed his palms.
Husky chuckled dully. "Not a rumor. Her name was…Aileen. I was about to marry her and all…anyway when she died, it was extremely hard on me too. I even considered suicide during those times…" John gulped at paused. It had been seven years since that day but dredging up the past was still tough for him.
"Anyway, I had a sort of…epiphany. I wondered how Aileen would feel if she saw me like this, falling to pieces and all. She died in a fire-fight by the way, and she died to save my life. She sacrificed herself so that I may live and killing myself would be such a disappointment and heartbreak to her…"
"And right about that time I pulled my self together…I told myself her love was all I needed. The fact that I had felt her love was enough and I'm grateful she came into my life, no matter how brief it was. It sounds corny saying this but…I feel that she gave up her life for a reason. And the reason was that so I may live and carry on doing my duty to protect others and preserve the peace….I'm going to keep on doing that. If Aileen's watching over me right now, she'll be proud of me…I know it."
As John finished, he was suddenly aware his squad had become deadly quiet and that his eyes were moist. He bent down in a pretense to tie his bootlaces, all the while hastily wiping away the tears that had gathered in the wells of his eyes; seeds of sadness.
"Thank you Sir, I think I understand now," Bryans replied. John Husky looked up. A shadow of a smile lingered upon his handsome face; just a shadow, but it was genuine. Bryans straightened himself with great purpose, fur bristling with renewed spirits. With that, his searching gaze was riveted once more onto the horizon, though his eyes were now alight with hope. Husky smiled and strode back to the clearing where his squad waited.
The rest of his squad had eyes pinned onto him, wide and curious. John sighed; he could tell that his men had been wondering about his past life for some time now. Husky suddenly wished that evacuation would come faster, anything to remove the awkward silence which occupied the forest clearing they were residing in. John had his wish; a dull whirl rumbled through the air.
"Is that them?" Carp questioned John hopefully, the lion's ears perked up in anticipation. John scanned the empty skies above when he noted with horror the whirling sounded too familiar…
"Men! Get down!" John hissed frantically as he buried himself into a dense patch of snow behind a boulder. His squad-mates hastily scoured for hiding spots and bunkered down.
The whirling grew in strength until finally; it resolved itself in the form of an alien flying machine. It was the same flying machine which his squad encountered last night. It ascended from beneath the cliff hovered above the clearing like a watchful wraith, an ominous blotch against the noon-lit sky.
John took a swift glance from behind the boulder and cursed in an undertone. A moving horde of figures were slowly treading their way through the forest. The majority of the figures were squat and stumpy. A pair of them however, towered above the rest. Even from this distance, John could tell they were monstrous in size.
As the horde lumbered into the clearing and the pale afternoon light fell upon them, John could tell these aliens were nothing he had seen before. Most of them were puny little creatures possessing lanky arms and stump-like legs which struggled against the foot high snow. Striding behind the gaggle of dwarf like creatures were two massive monsters clad in cobalt armor and wielding equally imposing guns.
The husky groaned when he realized the aliens were headed straight for his squad's enclave on the other side of the clearing…and there was no way they could escape undetected. John checked his ammo storage pouch and counted the number of plasma cells he had left.
"Three…Maybe running would be a better idea…" mused Husky as he fiddled with the three cells in his paws. He weighed his options hastily and decided against making a run for it…with the alien hover-craft around, sprinting in the open was suicidal.
With a finger, he gestured for Carp to read his paw signal. He protruded two digits pointing at the swarm of aliens and curled his fingers into a fist; the sign to attack.
Carp nodded grimly and began spreading the message. When the sullen news was delivered to the whole squad, John Husky took a deep breath and loaded his rifle. His heart was hammering against his stout chest.
"Let's do this,"
"GO!" Husky bawled, his index finger already clenching the trigger. A volley of plasma screamed its way towards the swarm. In an instant, several of the dwarf aliens crumpled to a heap upon the ground; their blackened blood staining the blanched snow.
The two larger aliens however, were a notch more agile than their lowly counterparts. With a leap, they ducked away from the line of fire and found refuge behind a rugged wall of trees. John was forced to retract his head when a huge bolt of virid green exploded near the base of his boulder.
John heard one of his men scream, though he couldn't be sure who it was exactly. Husky felt his heart fell nevertheless; he had a casualty on his team.
"Carp! Treat him!" bellowed Husky above the clamor of gunfire which rang in the clearing. Carp; who was the squad's medic, nodded and scurried from beneath the ridge of snow he was sheltering at.
John fastened his last rocket grenade onto the secondary nozzle of his gun and aimed it for the hover-craft. At the very least, he could rid the aliens of air-support…
The hover-craft was still busily raining plasma upon his men. Husky squinted through his laser sights; the hover-craft was dead center. Husky executed a sharp intake of breath and readied his fingers to squeeze the triggers.
He never got a chance to fire his weapon. A trail of smoke emerged from the corner of his eyes and zeroed it upon the vehicle. In an instant, a brilliant flash of magenta lit the clearing. The unfortunate hover-craft vacillated from one side to another, darkened clouds of smoke billowing from a gaping hole in its engine. With an abrupt jerk, it nosedived onto the alien forces bunkered down on the other side of the clearing. Grunts and squeals filled the air, before a blaring crunch overwhelmed them. As Husker took a sneak peek, he was heartened to see most of the aliens gone. A smoking crater occupied their former positions. Only a few dwarves and a lone large alien were left.
The lone monster released a guttural scream. The harsh cry echoed through the battle-ravaged clearing, a lamentation of the dead. Husker knew why; he saw its partner lying on the ground. An enormous chunk of shrapnel was buried in the beast's chest and no more blood ran from its still heart. The alien ceased its mourning when it spotted John crouching behind the boulder. It bellowed furiously, rage gripping the monster's colossal form. Ignoring the fact he was now outnumbered, the monster of an alien charged straight for Husky.
John lifted his rifle, knowing his little pop gun would do little to halt it. Just as the brute was within striking range of Husky, a volley of plasma was released from somewhere in the sky. A myriad of cerulean streaks tore through the monster's body, completely penetrating its energy shield and shredding its armor.
The beast shuddered to a precipitant stop. It wobbled unsteadily on its massive feet for a moment as dark lines of carmine fluid trickled down from its numerous wounds. The monster made a Herculean attempt to stride forwards but it amounted to a drunken stagger. Finally, it collapsed onto its two knees, desperately trying to stay upright. It swayed unsteadily on its knees. The effort proved too much and the creature tumbled onto the cold earth, crimson liquid staining the virgin snow.
Husky blinked, evidently in shock. He looked around him and with sudden realization, found out the fight was over; the minute dwarf aliens were all dead. Their abdominal bodies littered the ground. The snow was dirtied with the blood of the fallen and scorched chunks of body parts lay scattered around the crater. Husky's men were slowly rising from their hiding spots, their eyes fixed onto the sky.
Husky suddenly became aware of a low hum. He jerked his head up and to his horror, found another alien hover-craft; a perfect replica of the one which appeared earlier. The machine lowered itself onto the earth, melting the snow around it. With deliberate slowness, the machine made its descent and daintily landed upon the ground. Someone inside the vehicle cut the engine and the contraption fell silent. All seven pairs of eyes were now upon the hover-craft.
Husky had been contemplating of the creature behind the wheel but he never expected this.
Cooper grinned widely, wings upon his hips. Behind him, a female retriever stepped out. Followed by a feline that tumbled out of the hover-craft while rubbing his buttocks and complaining about 'butt cramps'.
"Someone called for the pizza boy?' smiled Cooper. Husky's squad stared on, flabbergasted.
Cooper glanced at Husky's squad and suddenly gasped. "Will he be alright?"
John turned around. Lionel, a private in the squad was groaning in the snow; his abdomen was bandaged and emergency heal patches covered his arms. Carp, who had been attending to him, hastened back onto the job once more.
"I hope so. Wait…Cooper…How did you..." Husky began. Suddenly, he paused. A frown crept across his bloodied face and he pulled his rifle up with a flourish, barrel trained on Cooper and his two partners.
"Cooper! That's Cooper! It's alright it's just…" Bryans started, attempting to brush the gun aside. Husky growled and stayed his ground.
"What's your maiden name!" barked Husky. Cooper blinked and stared at his captain, as if unsure of his sanity.
"What the…Sir it's just me!" Cooper almost laughed. Husky didn't find it funny.
"Answer the bloody question! What is it?" the canine almost shouted, rifle still aimed for the avian's heart. Everyone fell silent, glancing nervously between Zack Cooper and John Husky.
"Zack Avarice Cooper," replied Zack, eyes fixated onto the snout of the rifle. Bryans heaved a sigh of relief and grinned at Cooper.
"Convinced Sir?" the lupine asked. He began to stride towards Cooper, arms in the motion of giving a high-five.
Husky held an arm out, stopping Bryans in his tracks.
"One more question only the real Private Zack Cooper could answer and which Cooper told me," growled John Husky, "How did your ex-girlfriend dump you?"
Cooper blinked, his beak agape. Everyone else however, appeared highly interested to know how Cooper's last girlfriend dumped him.
"Sir, you can't be serious!" retorted Cooper agitatedly, "Like hell I'm going to tell…"
Husky waved his rifle threateningly. "Sorry but I'm not taking any chances. Last thing we want is an imposter in the squad."
Cooper muttered darkly under his breath and began.
"…She…Well I was sleeping at her house and then she found out I had been with another…Anyway she chucked me outside while I was naked and I almost got arrested by a passing police patrol…" Cooper mumbled in a monotone, all the while venomously glaring around; daring anyone to laugh. For the better part, everyone kept a poker face.
Husky lowered his weapon.
"Sorry about that, "Husky said almost sheepishly, "You guys could have been under a disguise and planted by those aliens to spy on us."
"And I had to tell the whole world about that particular incident for the 'greater good' I guess," Cooper fumed, wings crossed. Husky mastered a sympathetic look.
Meanwhile, behind the avian's back, Monty was in a fit of quelled laughter. Sara glowered disapprovingly at the feline who was now snickering to himself.
"Anyway," Husky cut in, hastily changing the subject, "What's the story with you guys? As for Corporal Monty Candler, I recognize but who's the other girl? And how did you come across this flying machine?"
"Sara here is a medic, I found her…or rather she found me back at the hospital in the base," Cooper replied simply.
"The flying machine was stolen from an enemy convoy, "Sara continued, "We used it to fly our way here… but what I'm more curious about is why your squad is here? Is evacuation coming?"
"We were waiting for extraction but they've been hours overdue," Husky said sadly, "Anyway, we haven't got time; the enemy will most likely have received word about our escape and we should be on the move."
"I've got worse news," chirped in Monty, who had been quietly listening to the conversation, "While on the hovercraft we spotted a few ships crash landing in the distance- could that possibly be the rescue sent for us?"
John Husky was disconcerted by the ill news. The rescue ships were everyone's lifeline out of this hell-hole and the only hope of surviving the ordeal. Disquietude seeped into his mind and he felt uneasy; for the first time he was at a loss of what to do next.
"Alright… Did you see where the crash site was?" Husky spoke after some thought.
Monty pointed a finger somewhere south of them, where the cliff was. "I'm guessing they may have landed on the plains south of here. But if you're thinking of reaching them you better make it quick; we spotted a convoy of those aliens making their way there."
"Well, hopefully there might be some salvageable transmitter parts aboard those spaceships we might be able to use to call in for help," mused Husky, "Beats sitting around here doing nothing. We'll move out to the crash site but I think it's best if we left the hovercraft where it is since attracting attention is the last thing we want. And you can tell me what happened to you guys while we walk."
With that, the small group dispersed. Bryans and Cooper gave each other a brotherly bear hug and then both strode away; arms on shoulders, to pack their things. Carp gingerly wrapped the last strip of bandage around Lionel's wounded abdomen while Samson helped the medic keep away his equipment. Everyone seemed weary and their fur or feather were caked and crusted with blood but yet, none raised a word of complain. Escaping this wretched planet was their main priority now and even loudmouth Samson sealed his lips shut. As the last of their paltry stores of ammunition was stowed away safely in their haversacks, the squad briskly made their way for a narrow passage Sara had pointed out which would take them down the jagged cliffs and across the whitened plains.
Behind them was a mire of sodden snow, now blemished with blood and a morass of corpses. A crow fluttered down onto the body of a Brute, keen beaks tearing into his exposed flesh. The Brute's plasma rifle lay forgotten beside him, quietly turning into rust.
Cornerian Calendar May 27th 0545, Tiranus II, Covenant Internment Camp
Fox McCloud peered apprehensively at his forlorn surroundings from the back of a hovercraft and wondered about his fate. The concussion he suffered from crash landing was dying away as his skull was hurting less now, though dull tremors of pain occasionally rumbled through his head whenever the hovercraft gave an ungainly jerk from crossing a pothole in the ground. Adding to the discomfort was the pair of handcuffs which shackled his arms behind his back. The vulpine sneaked a peek at the alien seated beside him. The massive creature was clad in cobalt armor and had remained mute for the whole journey as their transport made its way across the planet.
The interior of the vehicle was oppressive, with darkened violet walls (though they were hardly visible under the caliginous lighting) and a poor ventilation system. Fox noted with interest the hovercraft's roof had a gradual slope towards the rear, ending with the hull door. The only light in the transport was that of a garnet glow from a bulb overhead. Its crimson illumination gilded everything in the hovercraft with an eerie gleam of red. And complementing to the grim milieu was Fox's silent and watchful captor.
A jarring rumble rang through the hovercraft, breaking Fox from his reverie and he immediately sat upright; body tensed for whatever that came next. Fox soon felt the vehicle shudder to a stop and the muted 'whoosh' of doors being opened. Before long, the rear hull door slid upwards gracefully, blinding Fox McCloud as incandescent rays streamed into the hovercraft. Rough hands dragged him brusquely from his seat as Fox clenched his eyes shut from the flood of effulgent sunlight. Fox felt the snout of a rifle prod into his back as he unsteadily raised his eyelids.
Soft drifts of snow shrouded most of the winter landscape, their shapes graceful as the wind which forged them into existence. Pine trees and an adamant mountain wall lined the horizon. The scenery would have been picturesque had it not been for the burning encampment to the back.
A fuliginous air hung low over the band of war torn buildings, blotching out the details and hiding the encampment behind of veil of sooty black. Fox could discern minute figures patrolling the camp's outskirts and something which seemed like a tank parked at the entrance. A dirty plume of smoke rose from the camp's center.
The huge alien grunted and motioned for Fox to walk on. With two guards at his rear and front and another pair forging the way, the convoy made their way for the remnants of Military Installation 740.
As they neared the camp, Fox wrinkled his snout in disgust at the putrescent stench which pervaded the hazy air. With a jolt, Fox realized it was the odor of rotting flesh, something he was acquainted with fairly often in his job. With dread in his heart, McCloud strode stoically onwards. The group finally halted at the camp's entrance, which was merely a tear in the reinforced composite wall. Two squat creatures shuffled towards the guards and retrieved a tiny card from the hands of one of the guard. They bent over to examine it with a scanner of sorts in their clumsy hands.
While they were busy, Fox hurriedly took in his environment, scanning for anything noteworthy should he live to make an escape. His eyes fell upon a pair of bodies which had been dumped haphazardly at the edge of the wall.
They were the bodies of a wolf and a feline. Their arms were half clasped around each other, almost as if in embrace. Fox could have easily mistaken them from being asleep had it not been for the gaping bullet hole in their foreheads. Both their crowns were inclined towards each other and they seemed serenely peaceful, slumbering in their cradle of death. Fox could not help but wonder if they were lovers. But before he could pay any more thought to it, he was pushed through the entrance by a rear guard and into captivity.
As the guards and Fox McCloud traversed deeper into the base, rows after rows of wrecked buildings greeted them. The road however, was clear of debris as the majority of the rubble had been cleared to a side to make way for vehicles and soldiers. Fox felt his heart drop upon witnessing the military might of this alien army. In the skies above, squadrons of alien fighters whizzed by in formation, no doubt headed for the dogfight that raged on hundreds of meters above the planet's surface. Prim and smart columns of warriors clad in the same cobalt armor as his captor marched through the streets, their steel boots stamping on the ground in unison. The stomps reverberated throughout the dilapidated streets; an ominous sign of the change to come to the Lylat system. At the column's side was a long line of assault hovercrafts and tanks alike which sped past the marching soldiers, the barrels of their guns catching the late afternoon light.
Fox's captors suddenly led him off the main road and into a side alley and through a pair of double doors. Darkness settled over the group once more as they treaded through the threshold of the building. McCloud found himself in what looked like a warehouse; there were rows after rows of sealed airtight containers. A heap of storage tubes lay in a corner.
Another figure stepped out from the dusk though Fox could hardly discern its features in the gloom. A hushed conversation followed, before a new pair of guards took over his captivity. They were as tall as his original captors, though they appeared to be of much slimmer built. The dimness of the room however, concealed their façade. They led him down a stairwell which had been hidden out of sight by a large metallic crate.
Fox McCloud trudged down the steps, dreading the imprisonment which lay below. A gush of cold air billowed into his face and a slight shiver overtake his body. Fox tucked his paws into the warm burrows of his jacket's pockets and bristled his fur. At last, they came to the end of the stairwell. Fox was marched through a sliding door and into what seemed like a power plant. Covered drains lined the rusty walkway while exposed electrical cables ran along the entire stretch of wall to McCloud's left and right. Overhead were immense pipes that had been attached to the roof. At set intervals, fluorescent light bulbs lit the walkway.
The two guards finally halted outside a sturdy sliding door. They heaved it open and gestured for Fox to get in. the vulpine complied; knowing that without a weapon and against a more formidable foe, fighting them was useless. Fox stepped in and his captors heavily slammed the door shut. The stentorian crunch of metal against metal echoed hauntingly in his cell.
Fox squished one ear against the door and waited until he was sure the guards were gone. He speedily removed his left boot and tore away the sole of the footwear. A compact laser cutter tumbled out of a hollow compartment which had been skillfully carved into his boots. The cutter fell into his outstretched free paw and he grinned as he wielded it. The device was suited for slicing though even the thickest of metal, in one word; perfect.
Just as Fox began conjuring up his escape plan from what he had seen above, a low groan snapped him away from his train of thoughts. McCloud scrunched his eyebrows and whipped his head around, keen eyes darting back and forth across the murky room. A naked light bulb lit the entrance of the cell, casting a pallid glow of white around Fox but leaving the rest of the cell in semi-darkness. In the inner umbrage, a figure stirred. Fox froze and gripped his only weapon, the laser cutter, tightly.
The silhouette mumbled something indistinct and McCloud could descry the figure lift an arm into the space in front of it. But the figure was inexplicably overcome with a bout of weakness and the arm fell limply to the floor. The figure retreated into a prone position, still and unmoving.
Fox cautiously inched his way forwards, his tiny cutter suddenly the most precious thing in he world. McCloud reached the side of the dormant figure and peeled away a tattered and moldy blanket which had been draped over it. With one hand, Fox switched on the cutter to give him some light while the other hand was hooked under the figure's neck. As the lambent crimson glow suffused the figure's face, Fox released a gasp.
Resting upon Fox's paws was Airman First Class Rick, Co-Pilot of Lieutenant Jackson.
UNSC Calendar May 27th 0345
Location: Surface of unidentified planet
Colors… a multitude of colors all swirling around Jackson's periphery vision. Dotted here and there were spots of crimson. The sun was unnaturally bright. Everything was blurred and the colors were blotched. And from somewhere in the distance, gunshots.
Jackson groaned and made to sit up…but that made his head hurt even more. He attempted to raise an arm but every organ in his body was on protest and refused to cooperate. And all this while, the blurred cackle of gunshots perpetuated around him. Where were they coming from?
Perhaps it was all a nightmare, thought Jackson. Everything was so…surreal. Even reality seemed whimsical; the colors and sounds of the world were faded as if in a dream.
And then, reality compounded itself in the form of an arm clutching his face.
"Sir! You alright?" a crisp female voice punched through the air.
Jackson wearily lifted his eyelids once more. A red haired woman was staring intently at him, her cerulean eyes locked onto his hazel ones. As Jackson stared on, his mind began falling back into place.
"Where are we? Where did we crash land?" replied Jackson in a weak voice as he struggled to a sitting position. His head throbbed painfully but he ignored it. "Give me a status report!"
"Good to see you're back Sir. I'm Flight Lieutenant Casey Redwood. Flying Officer/Corpsman Jacob Smith and me crash landed about 3 clicks south-south east where we are now. You're the only survivor we encountered so far," replied the lieutenant simply.
Jackson suddenly became aware that another pair of hands was touching him and turned down to see a corpsman treating his abdominal wounds. His flight suit resembled a mangled and bloodied mess of titanimite and Kevlar.
"Anything broken officer?" queried Jackson. Jackson quietly prayed there were no broken bones or internal bleeding; those were hardest to heal.
"Mostly superficial wounds Sir," replied the Officer, "You'll be alright,"
As he spoke, he dabbed a limpid and runny liquid substance over his cuts. Jackson shuddered as the cold substance touched his skin… and then, the pain was gone.
"Alright, that should stop the bleeding and the pain for the next 10 hours Sir," said Officer Smith as he clambered out of the ruined cockpit. Lieutenant Casey offered Jackson her hand and Jackson grabbed it. Gently, she led her wounded superior from the marred remnants of his Broadsword fighter.
"So far I counted we have 3 downed birds. Sergeant Luke and his co-pilot are KIA Sir. They landed badly on that mountain…we did not see any activated escape pods."
The lieutenant pointed to the jagged mountains in the backdrop and Jackson could make out a trail of churning black smoke and a fiery blotch upon the rocks.
"Also…two of our new found friends crash landed. They went down about 6 clicks north of here."
The lieutenant raised her blackened hand once more and pointed at the forests ahead. Jackson squinted and discerned a secondary column of smoke from behind the conical tress. By 'new found friends', Jackson knew she meant the fighter ships who had aided them against the Covenant. Jackson wondered where they were now…
The final piece of his mind clicked into place, something was missing.
"Rick…Aww crap…Where's my co-pilot?" With a pang of panic, Squadron leader Jackson realized his co-pilot was missing.
"They captured him Sir. The covenant" replied Casey as she pointed to the snow capped coniferous forest to their left, "They tried to capture you too but we arrived and the grunts made a run for it with your Co-pilot…I'm sorry Sir"
Jackson lowered his jaw to reply but just then, his headset burst into life. A holographic screen blinked into existence inches from his eyes and the face of his Wing Commander appeared on the hovering screen.
"This is Command HQ come in…Jackson! Thank God you're alive. Report your status! Over!" the Commander barked.
As the squadron leader listened on, his diligent ears picked up sounds from the Command Ship. The dull sizzle of what seemed to plasma eroding metal could be discerned quite clearly.
"We've crash-landed Sir. Where exactly, we don't know; our ship's tracking systems are busted. So far, only Flight Lieutenant Casey Redwood and Flying Officer/Corpsman Jacob Smith; me included, are known to be alive. Sergeant Luke and his co-pilot are dead. The rest are MIA…over"
The Commander nodded, and then replied, "Copy that. Blackwell."
Jackson was confused for a second, and then remembered what this was all about.
"Rosewood. Over"
"Excellent. We just needed to confirm you're speaking on your own free will. We are currently unable to extract you lot, we've lost control of the space sectors above the crash site. You team is to head for a new designated extraction zone; we'll be sending you the coordinates and map of the area shortly.
The Pelican drop-ships will arrive there ETA four hours. You are to also attempt to locate any downed pilots nearby. Should that prove impossible, you are to merely head for the extraction zone. Remember, don't get captured!"
"About that Sir… my Airman First Class, Co-pilot Rick Winters was believed captured by Covenant Loyalist Forces. Permission to launch rescue mission Sir. Over."
A pregnant pause followed. The Wing Commander deliberated his choices; eyebrows furrowed together which creased his already wrinkled face.
"Permission granted. But remember, the LZ is hot. Don't expect the Pelicans to stay for more than half an hour. And keep in mind henceforth, your call sign is Beagle and our call sign is Doghouse. Doghouse Over and Out."
Age of redemption (May 27th) Time: Unknown, Aboard the Covenant Flagship 'Transient Watcher'
Andrew Oikonny threaded cautiously through the capacious expanse of the Covenant Assault Carrier, wary of the two Brutes who strode alongside his flanks.
As the trio marched along, Oikonny could not help but peer around the ship in a mixture of poorly concealed awe and fear. The walkway beneath their feet was that of burnt orange. Inscribed upon the walkway was a simple repetitive pattern that continued along its length. The walls and ceilings were sloped and curved…and as with all Covenant structures, they possessed varying hues of fuchsia or lilac.
The trio marched through a pair of sliding doors. As Oikonny gazed onwards, the walkway led to a short staircase that led to a command platform.
And on the platform was the last person he ever wanted to see again.
"H-Holy One! Greetings!" stammered Andrew Oikonny. Clumsily, the ape fell to one knee, head bent low in respect and fear.
The High Prophet nodded to the two Brutes who stood silently beside Oikonny.
The pair quietly murmured their variant of 'Holy One' in their native tongue before turning to leave in unison. As the sliding doors clicked shut behind them, Andrew Oikonny gulped audibly.
The Prophet fitted a translator around his elongated neck and spoke.
"I shall keep this briefing…brief Oikonny. The translator and this inferior language irritates my throat." The Prophet was pleased to see Oikonny nod fearfully.
"You have served the Covenant well Oikonny. The aid rendered approximately two years ago on Fortuna was helpful. You cooperation on Sauria has been noted as well."
Andrew felt his eyes widen. Aid rendered? But he had failed to destroy Star Fox! In fact, this was precisely why he feared meeting the venerable Prophet once more, for he assumed the next meeting would mean punishment. Still, Oikonny had the sense to nod along gratefully. He did just that.
"You next mission is simple. You are to lure a certain Cerinian vixen by the name of 'Krystal of the Cardinal Sun' to Sauria. Raid a military observation post there or assassinate the locals on the planet…whatever you do, stir up enough trouble to bring Krystal to Sauria. Then again, your uncle and you should be well acquainted with that planet.
Oikonny winced at the reference of his uncle Andross. It was on Sauria that he failed to revive his uncle. With a pang of anger, he realized that the Covenant had failed to uplift their end of the bargain. They had promised him they would use the temple artifacts (For reasons unknown the Covenant kept referring to it as 'Forerunner' artifacts) revive his uncle as long as they lured Krystal to Sauria and allowed the Covenant to study her.
Still, it was mostly his fault the revival failed. He had failed to prevent Fox McCloud from entering the temple. But the Covenant refused to help him and chose instead to flee.
"I know what you are thinking Oikonny; we did not help you on Sauria," the Prophet continued in his voice that was devoid of emotion, "But remember; Andross failed us almost 12 years ago. He was to subdue the Lylat system with the equipment we generously provided him. Yet, he failed. As his only relative, it is fitting you repay the debt."
Andrew Oikonny wanted to protest but thought better of it. He bent his head in what he hoped was remorsefulness.
"But the Covenant forgives. Allow us to capture Krystal on Sauria and we will reward you with funding and equipment for a new army…I hear you still have a loyal following on Venom."
Andrew blinked rapidly. He had not expected a reward for this task.
"Thank you Holy One! Rest assured I will see this through. My loyalty is infallible Holy One!" spluttered Andrew Oikonny in relief as he bowed down once more.
"You loyalty? That remains to be seen Oikonny… Keep in mind we have inserted a nanno-chip into your brain. Any hint you intend to defect and the chip will be activated, releasing an electron charge than will permanently induce pain all over your body. And we will be watching you Oikonny."
The ape shuddered involuntarily. "Nanno-chip? But…When did you insert such a chip Holy One?"
"Out of mere curiosity of course…Holy One" the ape hastily added in.
"While you were last on Sauria," the Prophet replied icily, "You were sleeping…in a drug induced sleep that is."
Andrew Oikonny nodded and said nothing. That statement served to only feed his growing fear of the Covenant and most of all; the Prophet.
"So, we could have killed you anytime we desired to. Remember Oikonny, do not tell anyone of us. Do we have an understanding?" The Prophet glared at the ape menacingly.
"Of course Holy One. I will carry out the mission as you intended. Rest assured I will not fail!" Oikonny replied anxiously.
"I hope not. Dismissed." The Prophet removed his translator and messaged his neck. Right on cue, the two Brutes reentered the room and escorted Andrew Oikonny away.
Five minutes passed. The retreating footsteps of the trio soon faded out of existence. A holographic screen hovered in mid air in front of the Prophet's face. Upon it was the security feed of Oikonny walking to the hangar where he would be taken in a drop-ship and dumped at his previous location. The Prophet eyed Oikonny with disdain.
It had been 15 years since he studied the philistine collection of creatures who affectionately branded themselves 'Lylatians'. Yet, the only term he saw fit for them was 'barbarian'. Everything about them irked the Prophet, from their miniscule empire to their democratic ideals. Such things were signs of weakness…and weakness was not tolerated within the ranks of the Covenant… At least not while he was in charge.
The doors slid open once more and the Prophet turned to see a Brute stride into the room.
For a change, this Brute was unarmored, revealing a hairy, ape-like façade and thick, gray hide. He was Macaerbus, ruling chieftain of the Brutes and honorary member of the prophet's advisory council.
"Holy One." The Brute acknowledged the Prophet in the Covenant's native tongue.
"Greetings Macaerbus. What brings you here?" the prophet replied.
"I have some… concerns about your hiring of a local barbarian," admitted Macaerbus, "Holy One, you could send my brethren in to capture this 'Krystal' you speak of. We are at your disposal."
The High Prophet smiled inwardly. This was precisely why he enjoyed using the Brutes. They were a stable political entity…blindly devoted to the Covenant…devoted to a dying cause. Macaerbus had also proven his mettle in combat and was intelligent and most importantly, loyal.
"I will answer that question Macaerbus. Because I have studied everyone noteworthy in this system and Oikonny is someone whom this 'Krystal' has a strong dislike for. Oikonny was the last enemy Krystal had failed to kill or capture and should Oikonny stir up enough attention, she is sure to come hunting for him."
The Prophet paused and inched his throne closer to Macaerbus.
"And think Macaerbus… Oikonny had dealt Krystal hurt in the past while on Sauria. It was he who had held her captive at that very same planet and inflicted pain upon her. I would imagine Krystal would not resist the temptation to go to Sauria once more… to even the scales."
"Besides, though I do not doubt the honesty of the Jiralhanae…you must admit that should the barbarians come across your brethren, how would they deal with what they deem as a powerful and alien threat? With the full might of the military of course! What we will get in the end is a lot of unnecessary attention and the risk of scaring away our target."
The Prophet observed the Brute when he finished. Macaerbus seemed apt in attention.
"I understand now Holy One. Thank you," Macaerbus suddenly shifted uneasily on his massive feet and persisted, "But what importance is of Krystal to you Holy One?"
The Prophet had a feeling this conversation was staged to eventually lull him to answering that very question…a question that had plagued the minds of his advisory council.
"I am afraid I cannot answer that question Macaerbus," the Prophet replied, "However, what I will say is that Krystal of the Cardinal Sun is of paramount importance if we are to redeem ourselves again as masters, not servants. I promise you Macaerbus, this will be the Age of Redemption."
Cornerian Calendar 6032nd Cycle May 27th 0617 Hours
Tiranus II, Outskirts of Installation 740
It was another busy day at the army installation. Tanks rolling through the dusty streets… troops chatting at the roadside… and a cargo ship landing upon the runway with a fresh batch of equipment and troops. Only problem was, they were Covenant forces.
Husky lowered his binoculars, making a mental note of the number of troops stationed at the various entrances. But despite his excellent and informative observation post, he could not descry the interiors of the base and where they kept the prisoners.
John Husky adjusted his seating position slightly, afraid to break a branch. His observation post after all, was a tree. He wouldn't have complained much but getting bristled and scratched by the sharp tree branches for half an hour was by far unpleasant.
Husky and his squad had arrived at the crash site just in time to see a pair of Brutes extricate the pilot from his cockpit. They would have gladly intervened if not for the platoon of Covenant soldiers standing guard in a circle around the downed Arwing and an anti-infantry vehicle.
And upon closer observation, the pilot was none other than the famed Fox McCloud, leader of the equally famed Star Fox. They couldn't leave him of course…and so it was agreed that they would split up. Husky, together with Cooper, Tyrone, Sara and most of his squad would secretly follow the captors of McCloud and attempt to rescue him should the opportunity arise.
Meanwhile, the wounded Lionel, Wayne and most importantly, Samson the technical expert, stayed behind at the ruined ship to recover or repair any salvageable transmitter parts. Wayne would be a lookout while Samson did his job.
Inwardly, Husky was happy of the arrangement. Samson had always been whiny and it was almost a relief to have him out of the way. He had wanted Sara to stay behind with Samson too but she refused…accusing him on grounds of anti-feminism and devaluing women. He had then proceeded to argue that Lionel was injured and would need the attention of a medic to which she promptly rebutted why couldn't he use Carp?
And as Lionel's condition wasn't particularly fatal (Lionel even protested against having Sara around…the thought of dragging the team down horrified him), he had no choice but to admit Sara into the team. It also didn't help that Cooper was agreeable with everything Sara suggested... almost looked like as if that bird had a stupid crush on her.
Then again, he had a reasonable excuse to suspect that. Cooper had seemed more than delighted to take up observation duties with Sara.
Husky raised his glasses and quietly spied upon the base's ongoing for a few more minutes before clambering down from the tree. The captain wondered if the two medics had anything for ass cramps…
"Any activity on your side?" Cooper asked, his binoculars pressed against his eyes.
"Nope. All quiet in my sector…we may have a possible entry route here," replied Sara. She was right. The hole in the wall (coincidentally, the very same hole they had stumbled across earlier) had been carelessly left unguarded. Only two dwarves could be spotted loitering around the ruined wall. Even then, they seemed relaxed…perfect targets for sneaking up upon.
Sara checked her watch. "Sundown will be coming in about an hour's time. We'll observe for 10 more minutes and then head back as planned. If we're to sneak in, we should do so under the cover of night."
"Roger that," replied Cooper.
A few moments passed in restful silence as the duo continued observing an evidently quiet sector. And then Cooper cleared his threat audibly and began…
"So…I don't know much about you. Feel like doing some ice breaking?" Cooper asked almost meekly as he gave Sara a brief sideward glance.
"I'm Sara Wells, Combat Medic of the 38th Snow support company?" Sara replied quizzically, "That's the answer you looking for?"
"Er…I mean as in where did you study at before this? How come someone like you could end up on a planet like this?" Cooper continued. Suddenly, he noted that Sara was giving him a very odd look.
"You know, those are personal questions that I've never even answered in front on my colleagues," Sara replied with a slight smirk.
Zack Cooper was aghast at the twist the conversation had taken and immediately stuttered. "O-Of course, you don't have to answer that! I mean, it's personal… I was just curious about you and…" Cooper trailed away and hoped that the encroaching darkness of twilight would conceal the blush on his cheeks.
"I studied as a nurse in the beginning on Elenard, at one of the many medical schools there. But being a nurse wasn't enough for me so I signed up at the combat academy and trained to be a combat medic."
Sara took a pause and glanced at the setting sun. The fleecy clouds that lined the skies of Tiranus were gilded with the light of the dying sun. With a little imagination, they resembled a wildfire that had been frozen in time.
"I served on Cerinia and… many other places in the Venomian and Aparoid wars… It was tough work. After the war I requested transfer here…to this middle of nowhere for some peace and quiet. I couldn't bring myself to quit this job so…here I am." Sara stopped, her grip on the binoculars tightened involuntarily.
"And your parents…they didn't say anything?" Cooper asked quietly. He felt sorry for Sara already, having gone through the horrors of war.
"I was an orphan. Turns out my mother had dumped me at the orphanage right after I was born. As for my Dad, I have no idea what happened to him. Only thing I inherited from them both is the family name 'Wells'… Then again it was convenient to never have someone care for you. Makes it so much easier to do whatever the hell you want."
Cooper was startled to see a teardrop trickle down from the corner of her left eye. The single bead of tear caught the light of the setting sun and sparkled beautifully. Sara hastily looked away and wiped her watering eyes with a paw.
"I'm sorry… My family wasn't all that great too. Mum and Dad always quarrelling…divorce…the over-expectant father…see my mum only once a month…the usual story, "replied Cooper. He wanted to place a wing on Sara's shoulder but thought better of it.
"Must have been hard on you," Sara said. Zack was surprised to note that her voice barely cracked.
Cooper shrugged nonchalantly. "Did my best to move on. That's the only thing we can do I guess, stop dwelling on the past and move along."
"Yeah… "said Sara. She turned to look at Cooper, her eyes twinkling and a slight grin tugging at her lips. Her gilded locks framed a happier face and a smile Cooper thought was so radiant.
Sara shifted fleetingly and tentatively touched Cooper's wing. "Thanks Zack. I've always wanted to get that piece of history off my chest…I'm grateful of a listening ear."
Cooper grinned back. "No problem. Well, we've got exactly 3 minutes left. Wanna watch the sun set?"
"A 3 minute sun set…wonderful." Sara chuckled.
Side by side, the two soldiers sat on the tree. An auroral glow settled upon the seemingly untroubled earth, embracing the lonely duo. The ambiance of peace was unmistakable…but it was a façade of the turmoil to come.
However, nothing could ruin the sun set now; not even a universe at war. And as the sun dipped below the ragged horizon, Sara and Zack each placed an arm and wing around the other's shoulder…two kindred sprits huddled together. Then dusk came and the two were whisked away under the cover of the Cimmerian shade, lost to the night.
Cornerian Calendar May 27th 0715 Hours
Military Installation 740, Underground Maintenance Chambers
Fox McCloud rubbed his paws vigorously. The planet was bitterly cold, especially when nightfall came. Worsening the situation was the fact that he had been stripped of his flight jacket. Still, it could have been worse. At least he had fur, unlike his unfortunate alien counterpart.
With that, he checked the temperature of Rick. His hands were still frigid cold despite the protective cover of the moldy blanket and McCloud's jacket. His forehead and arm had been hastily bandaged, though that did little to heal his evidently broken arm.
Fox McCloud had seriously considered leaving the alien behind and making run for it. However, his conscience would not allow it…Besides, he would not last long on the planet's harsh surface without sufficient winter wear and he didn't even have a clue where he was. For all he knew, his squadron had abandoned him for dead.
Fox shivered in the darkness and watched his breath come out as a puff of mist. He tucked his paws beneath his pants; the only piece of clothing he had on him now. His shirt had served as a bandage to stop a bleeding wound on Rick's abdomen.
Fox McCloud turned to look at Rick. The creature was odd from his perspective; a hairless ape save for his scalp. The creature was also lankier than the apes he knew, though he did possess lean muscles. Apart from these obvious differences, this creature resembled Fox McCloud in height and stature.
"Still, he's better looking than the other aliens around here," thought McCloud. The reptilian and stumpy aliens he encountered earlier looked far more menacing and monstrous. He shuddered from the unpleasant memories.
As he shifted himself closer to the alien, a distinctive noise broke the silence.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Fox perked his ears up, face apt with attention. What was that?
More thuds echoed from beyond the steel door of his cell. Fox McCloud hurriedly hid the laser cutter inside his curled fist. Should his captors tie him up later, at least he would have an option of escape.
The thuds were definitely footsteps noted the vulpine. But yet, these footsteps weren't as heavy as those made by the bulkier aliens who had captured him. Perhaps these were the footsteps of the dwarves, thought McCloud.
Hushed whispers drifted from somewhere in the distance, and then more hurried thuds followed.
Fox was startled when a jarring knock erupted from somewhere to the left, and a call of "Any prisoners here? Fox McCloud?"
McCloud froze. He did not know what to make of this.
Another knock came; louder than before. It was closely followed by a shout of "McCloud? Anyone here?"
Maybe it really is my lucky day after all, wondered Fox.
"Hello? You guys friendlies?" McCloud timidly inquired, laser cutter still in his paw.
"We found him!" an excited voice chorused, before a series of "Shhhhh!" silenced the excited squeal.
"Hold on! We'll get you out of there! Cooper, get the lock! Oh and stand back Mister McCloud, the bullet may penetrate the door," a rough voice ordered him.
"Okay, I'm good," Fox replied, once he had dragged the unconscious Rick to safety. A moment later, a subdued 'ping' rang across the cell (most likely made by a silenced rifle) and the door slid open.
The vulpine found himself staring at an odd menagerie of his own kind. An Alaskan husky; whose uniform announced him as a captain, appeared to be in charge. A bird with a rusty brown plumage had a silenced rifle in his wings. A panther by his side together with a golden retriever who was standing guard on their left flank.
"Thanks, thought rescue would never show up," said Fox as he hoisted the prone body of Rick onto his back, "We've got another prisoner by the way, this fellow on my back,"
"The hell's that? A hairless chimp?" remarked Monty scathingly.
"Good question. But all we need to know is the aliens round here don't seem to take to him kindly, which means he's one of us," as Fox finished, Rick released a barely audible groan, "Should we get going captain?"
The captain seemed reluctant on taking a prisoner who was a burden but if he had different thoughts, he did not share them.
"Let's go team!" barked the husky, "Matter of time before they find the dead guards!"
The group raced up the narrow stairwell in a single file where they found a lion standing guard at the stairwell's entrance.
"We hid the bodies of those big scary guys sir! " Carp exclaimed, and pointed to the corner where two prone bodies lay quietly.
The captain nodded, "Excellent work Carp. Our prisoners are secured…now let's get the hell out of here!"
As they scrambled through the doors, Fox encountered more of the captain's men, many who had been watching the corners of the building and doorways. Fleck of snow descended from the star speckled sky, quickly shrouding the body of several dwarves and blood from view. All was quiet, save for the distant rumble of tanks and the ominous whirl of hovercrafts.
The team stealthily darted in and out of the ruins of wrecked buildings, avoiding main roads and using alleyways when necessary. The lack of lighting aided them vastly in avoiding detection by patrolling sentries. Surprisingly, the journey was by far uneventful. Fox was immensely grateful for that; he had more than enough excitement for a day.
At last, the husky led them through a gaping hole in the installation's otherwise sound walls. The corpses of two dwarves lay sullenly beside the hole, their abdomen peppered with the holes of silenced bullets. Fox scurried through the tear in the wall and found himself near the edge of a dense swath of forest. Two soldiers and the captain were standing vigilantly on guard, eyes wary for any enemy movement.
"All clear. Let's move," the husky ordered in an urgent whisper. Two other soldiers fell back to the rear of the squad, while the one identified as Carp and the panther protected the flanks.
Fox McCloud spared the base one last glance, before hurrying with his team through the darkened tree lines and out of sight.
"Did any of you happen to see any more crash landing fighters? I did not come here alone," Fox said, after the first tense fifteen minutes came to pass and the team were now properly hidden in the forest.
"Yeah, we did," replied the panther, who went on to identify himself as Monty, "One was yours, the other a modified Wolfen fighter…I think the ones the Cerinian army uses. Unfortunately, that Wolfen pilot crashed into the mountains…didn't see any escape pods too…Sorry mate,"
Fox cursed in an undertone. His squadron had sustained its first casualty and it was his entirefault. Had they proceeded to merely extract those trapped here, perhaps there wouldn't have been…
No, he couldn't think about that now. Right now, he would focus on getting his furry ass off this planet…and try not to get anyone else killed.
"And there were four more fighters of…unknown origins," Monty continued, "Didn't look like anything our army has. I was hoping you could explain that actually."
With that, Monty passed Fox a curious glance.
McCloud suddenly remembered. "They were fighting the aliens in a space dogfight… in fact; I think our friend here was possibly one of them,"
He gestured at Rick, who was on Carp's back.
"What are they?" Husky quietly asked. He received the reply not long after.
A harsh cry burst from somewhere within the trees. And then, what was unmistakably the barrel of a gun punched through the snow covered shrubs and aimed itself at the captain's neck.
The whole squad rapidly aimed their rifles at the shrub and the surrounding trees.
The voice continued speaking, though in a language Fox had never heard of. Finally, the voice materialized itself in the form of a humanoid figure…a figure very much like the unconscious figure on Carp's back.
The figure was dressed in what looked like a torn flight suit. He had a handgun pointed at Husky's neck and with the other hand, gestured at the branches above the squad.
"Damn!" cursed Fox as he discerned the barrels of rifles from the trees above. There was no telling how many of those things were up there…one false move could prove fatal for the entire squad.
The figure had a skin the color of chocolate brown and fierce hazel eyes. He was also hairless, just like the alien Carp carried.
The humanoid proceeded to point at Rick and pressed the gun into the hollow of the captain's neck. It was evident the humanoid wanted his friend back. Fox saw the need to intervene.
McCloud strode forwards; albeit slowly, towards the humanoid. The alien did not seem to like that very much and began shouting angrily, eyes alight with fear.
"I mean no harm; look" Fox spoke, his arms in the air and palms facing outwards, "See? I'm a friendly… No guns, no knives,"
The humanoid breathed deeply and glared suspiciously at Fox.
"I was part of the alien fighters …" with that, the vulpine mimicked the shape of his Arwing with his paws, "…in space…" Fox pointed to the night sky, "…we helped you…" McCloud pointed to the humanoid, then himself.
The dark skinned alien appeared convinced. Grudgingly, he barked an order and the gun barrels in the trees retracted themselves.
The alien lowered his gun reluctantly and held his hand out.
"…A pawshake? They know that?" wondered McCloud aloud.
With the eyes of the squad boring into Fox McCloud and the whispers of their murmured prayers, Fox nervously walked towards the humanoid.
Fox lifted his arm and; with paw shaking, lightly gripped the hand of the alien. They both shook it, gently at first, before the handshake became a genuine and relaxed one. The humanoid grinned.
The alien said something but Fox reckoned he knew what it was.
"Friends," he smiled.
UNSC Calendar 27th May 0800 Hours (1 and a half clicks to extraction zone)
All in all, it had been a crazy day. The last thing Jackson had expected was help; but help came, albeit in a form he didn't expect.
Familiar. That was the first word to come to Jackson's mind when he encountered those aliens…not a word frequented when around E.T.
But yet, those creatures resembled Earth like animals in every aspect. Jackson had seen a retriever, Alaskan Husky, panther, lion, fox, wolf, raccoon and what looked like a very big bird. Only thing was they all possessed opposable thumbs and were bi-pedals. Jackson secretly wondered if he was in some cartoon… except that the woodland critters had taken to guns.
Casey and Smith seemed equally enthralled by their new found friends. Casey for one could not help but steal them a sideward glance once every thirty seconds.
"Sir, what do you think are they?" whispered Smith as their newly supplemented team trudged through the thickening snow, "I'm still having difficulty digesting the fact that aliens look like animals… a lot like animals."
Jackson sighed. "I couldn't care less how weird this may look. All I care is getting extracted in time…and we've only got 15 more minutes and my radio isn't transmitting…maybe it's the static charge in the air…"
Jackson turned around and pointed vigorously at his watch.
"Let's walk faster…" he protruded two fingers and made them to be a pair of walking legs, "…Only fifteen more minutes to extraction…" he held out five fingers and a curled fist.
The animal-aliens nodded grimly and picked up the pace. As Jackson turned around, he could hear them conversing tersely amongst themselves. Jackson hoisted Rick further up his back; hoping his fever would subside soon. Hopefully the co-pilot could receive some medical attention on the Pelican…
Jackson double checked the holographic map screened on his headset. They weren't far off now…