A/N: Ack! The disclaimer! Here we go, I almost forgot…
I do not own Star Fox or any of the characters, locations, memorabilia, etc., pertaining directly to the series. They are owned by whichever company owns them. All characters, locations, tech, memorabilia, etc., that are not in Star Fox and are featured in this story is copyright to me.
Prepare yourselves for action, folks. Being a military vessel (and not a bunch of lazy mercenaries :P) the Aragosa can't very well sit back and watch Lylat get conquered. They'll be going nonstop until they've forced a more advantageous position, and we'll be with them every step of the way.
-----------------------------------------------------
The Aragosa's briefing room was always an uncomfortable place to be, despite its great size. The circular area was only designed to fit commanders and officers into chairs so they could listen to announcements and mission objectives, not lounge in comfort. Add to that the fact that this particular briefing was about whether or not the Lylat system had the capability to actually defend itself from an onslaught of alien ships that had attacked with warning or provocation, and could be all over the system by now for all the crew knew, and one would add up a large group of very fidgety and tense soldiers.
Lieutenant Carlstaff understood their anxiety, but as an officer he was paid not to show the same emotions. He and the rest of the command staff had to make sure that the ship ran smoothly and discipline did not falter so they could do their jobs and accomplish their missions. They wouldn't have the right to be called soldiers if they gave in to despair as easily as regular citizens.
He walked into the briefing room clutching a laser pen behind his back and wearing a mask of stoicism and calm, but his step and the way he held his shoulders had a note of clear urgency. The clearest sign of his agitation was tail, which flailed around behind him despite all his conscious efforts to control it. At least it still looked well groomed. All of the pilots had assembled as ordered (barring the dead from their first engagement), and so the fox went straight to business. He turned on the holographic projector at the front of the room, and the lights dimmed automatically to near pitch blackness. While the picture loaded, the plain aqua sphere the rest of the hologram would load on gave the lieutenant's face a sickly, pale pallor, which reflected how the rest of the crew felt at the moment. The first picture was a recorded video of the annihilation of the three mining stations the Aragosa had left behind, after they had been picked clean by the enemy forces. Actual, physical descriptions of individual enemies were out of the question, as all the live specimens that they had caught a glimpse of were either robots, or organic creatures housed in some kind of exoskeleton.
What the cameras saw appeared to be bipedal, with back sweeping legs, skinny limbs attached to a sturdy barrel chest, and either elongated heads or sensory organs atop their bodies, as the video paused and enlarged a specific section of the now calm battlefield, showcasing a few of the enemy combatants as they jumped from a transport into the mining station Thaddeus. The distance was so great, the image being thrown up before the pilots had become quite fuzzy and nearly impossible to decipher.
"This is our first glimpse of the enemy," Carlstaff explained. "It was taken just a few hours ago as we were fleeing and is the only picture we can reasonably assume to be an enemy soldier, or droid, or some other apparatus that is used to invade a structure held by opposing forces for purposes of reconnaissance, assault, or study. Other than this, we can tell you absolutely nothing about what we faced back at Sargasso other than the combat capabilities of the ships they used to attack us. The motives of this new race are unknowable. All we know is that they are extremely hostile and willing to engage and kill Lylatian forces and civilians. We do not know why they spared us and did not hunt us down, or why they only killed those within their immediate reach. We believe they were looking for something, but we have no idea what. Unfortunately this conversation is better left to scientists, and is not our immediate concern."
He was right. The Aragosa was a military vessel first and foremost, and had to concentrate on defeating the enemy before it could get in-depth about understanding them. Right now it was hurtling through subspace towards its next destination, which the lieutenant was about to explain.
"Horizon base and its accompanying mining outposts Thaddeus and End Run have been destroyed. For reasons unknown the enemy has only occupied the remaining mining stations. Sargasso Space was evacuated before this occurred, and has been conquered by the enemy. Lylat as a whole is in the process of being overrun in its entirety," the lieutenant said bluntly. The image switched to an overview of Lylat space. The last known intelligence on enemy positions and incursion points came up as blinking red dots. They surrounded the entire outer orbit of Lylat, enveloping Venom, Sectors Z and X, and Papetoon in hostile signatures. Near the middle of the gathering, Emery Wickliff leaned back and placed his chin in his paw as he took in the full scale of the attack. This wasn't just a simple attack. This was a war of conquest… there had to be millions upon millions of soldiers and behind-the-line workers driving this sort of war machine. The lieutenant continued without pause.
"The enemy has launched a massive invasion all across Lylat's outer rim. Lylatian outposts are falling across our space's perimeter even as we speak." Yellow dots that blinked with attention catching markers illustrated the position of Lylatian space stations and bases that were under attack. Before the lieutenant even finished speaking, several blinked red and held a steady brightness, signifying that they had been conquered or destroyed. Disturbingly, several wing commanders noted that the enemy had already reached far beyond the Aragosa's position.
"The Cornerian Defense Fleet is gathering at Katina to counter the threat, but our outer orbit is in dire straits. Planetary defense systems are standing by at key planets the enemy has not yet attacked. General Peppy Hare has ordered the Orbital Gate system to prepare our fleet for a counterattack, but as our forces were caught off guard, they have not yet mobilized to become a factor in our next mission. Many fleets and battle groups were isolated and unprepared for an attack of this scale and ferocity. Venom is under siege and its defense grid nearing collapse. Papetoon was nearly defenseless, and has been almost completely conquered. Its surface is being subjected to heavy bombardment to destroy remaining Lylatian resistance. All stations near Sector X are under enemy control. We are inside hostile lines, and given the disorganization we have detected from the last transmissions that got through the blockade the enemy is setting up from Sector X to Macbeth, we are not going to get help any time soon."
He threw a cursory glance around at the gathered pilots.
"In short, we here on the orbital Rim are on our own. The enemy has set up interdiction stations that prevent long-range warp, and are jamming any and all transmission we have attempted to make to Command back on Corneria. The captain wanted to make this absolutely clear. We are cut off from reinforcement and cannot make any large-scale operations for the foreseeable future. For those who wish to know, Star Fox was on Fortuna at the time of the attack, and instead of attacking the alien fleet, it is being directed to protect the inner orbital system. They won't come swooping in this time." He paused a moment to let that information sink in. It was a blow to morale knowing that Star Fox was being reined in instead of doing what they did best and launching an immediate counter-attack, but the situation had to be made clear. "Our only hope is to stabilize and reinforce the positions that have not already fallen, and hold on to them until General Hare can formulate an effective strategy. In accordance with this plan, our next destination is the planet Macbeth."
The image changed to a real time scanning overview of the planet, with different codes and shapes indicating a promising amount of ships gathered in orbit around the giant shipyards and construction platforms hovering near the planet.
"We have several orbital platforms around Macbeth that provide maintenance, refitting, and re-arming duties, as well as construction for the majority of our military hardware. If it falls, this entire half of Lylat falls with it. The Aragosa and her frigates have been ordered by Macbeth's planetary governor and the local fleet admiral to assist in its defense. Within two hours we will exit subspace near Cyrene, one of Macbeth's satellites and the primary defense platform for the entire planet. Our mission will be to bolster its defenses and await new orders. A rally point has been established at this location for any spacecraft that escaped the initial assault.
"Before our satellites went down, we managed to pick up a relay transmission from Corneria. The government has officially declared war on this new enemy, so do not hesitate to kill anything and everything that is not Lylatian and gets in the way of your orders and objectives."
There was a sudden beep from the real-time display. Lieutenant Carlstaff turned and watched as hostile IFF signatures appeared on-screen, and began advancing swiftly towards Cyrene station. His eyes narrowed slightly.
"Prepare for enemy contact."
----------------------------------------
In the middle of the Aragosa's giant hanger bay, which could hold four wings of fighters and two wings of bombers with a small complement of twelve corvettes (for a below average total of one hundred-two craft, whereas standard carriers could field up to one hundred-fifty), nearly every pilot was preparing for another dogfight. After the brief summary of the next war to strike Lylat, they knew that in all likelihood they'd come out shooting. There was a strange calmness about them all as they prepped their ships for the next launch. The first contact with the alien enemy was all the more humbling as it sank in during the eight hour journey to Macbeth that Lylat was not alone. Of course, other systems had been discovered that supported life, life that could conceivably come to them, and aliens were nothing new. But this was so foreign, to imagine something completely outside of their star system, with only the express purpose to destroy.
The galaxy was suddenly much bigger and scarier, and everyone on the Aragosa was suddenly feeling much smaller and less courageous.
Emery Wickliff was trying to keep his mind off things by worrying. Nearly all of Gamma squadron's craft had to be repaired with haste, and the moment his fingers flowed over the control module, Emery knew that his Starblazer wasn't working at peak efficiency. He didn't like this. Their on-the-fly (no pun intended) mission briefing was going to begin in a few minutes to outline Gamma squadron's specific objectives, but he was certain from the enemy's last position it was going to be a scramble mission the moment they dropped out of subspace. They had gone right from the briefing room to the hanger and from there to their beloved ships.
"This just doesn't seem fair," Abram said miserably as he hopped into his own fighter, attaching electrical cords and tubes to his flight suit. The suit itself was a form of control over the fighter, decreasing reaction time to any situation a ship needed to tell its pilot of, and allowing mid-mission information on everything from which wire was out of place, to how long one had to live after a missile had blown out their engines.
"What doesn't?" Emery asked distractedly as his ship ran a diagnostic.
"I mean, this whole thing about an invasion," Abram replied. "I only just got out of the Academy, and now we gotta deal with doing the job Star Fox should be doing!"
"Star Fox is not here for one of two reasons," Jagger muttered as he pulled his helmet on. There was a barely audible "Here we go…" from Gary, which Jagger either ignored or didn't hear.
"They are either not being paid enough to go and fight," he rumbled, "or they are tied down just as we are with just holding on to what we still have."
"I'd go with the second one," Calim said. "Nobody can just ignore a threat this… huge."
"You'd be surprised," Jagger said, and looked over at Abram, who seemed rather nervous through the opaque cockpit, fiddling with his helmet strap and pressing unnecessary buttons.
"Abram," he said simply. The nervous raccoon looked back to him, his face a blank mask of visor and breathing apparatus, but it seemed obvious from his actions that he was using his equipment to hide his nervousness. Everyone had seen the casualty counts from their first engagement. It was not promising for the next.
"Yeah?" Abram asked, almost nervously. He was probably expecting another shoot-down from the badger.
"Remember. Concentrate on our voices only. It keeps you from getting confused in a big fight."
Nothing more was said after that, as the silence that had fallen over the squadron was an understanding one. The best teams didn't have to say anything to each other before a fight. There was only going to be each other, and that they would lay down their lives for one another. What else could there be? Gamma squadron, and the entire ship, was made of soldiers, who were there to fight, for each other, and for their homes. To an outsider the quiet, only broken by orders and reports and the regular chatter of military personnel, might have been oppressive and eerie.
To the duty-bound crew, it was music to their ears.
-----------------------------------------------------
Armand patrolled the bridge, watching over the other officers and bridge technicians as they went back and forth on their watches. The lieutenant and captain were not on deck at the moment, and he had temporary command, with clearance to contact the captain should anything odd come up. So far there was just the quiet, reassuring white glow of subspace outside.
The bold and loud husky was an intimidating presence, and he liked to keep unnecessary chatter to a minimum, especially since they were now in the middle of a war that seemed on an even greater scale than anything even Andross' twisted mind could dream up. He didn't think much except for how to obey the next set of orders, and this made him a perfect candidate to be a security officer. This was not to say he was feeble-minded and needed orders to keep running. It was just that he took his job very, very seriously, and the others like Erin and Emery Van knew that making a joke of their positions in his presence was an even worse idea than doing it in front of the captain, who by contrast to his tactical officer was soft-spoken, more of a motivation than a persistent nuisance.
But, Armand wasn't above a little pleasant conversation, which appeared to be what Lieutenant Carlstaff was seeking when he came in.
"Everything quiet?" he asked the husky.
"Aye, sir," he said briskly, nodding stiffly. "We'll reach Macbeth in about an hour. How's the captain holding up?" he asked curiously, keeping his voice to a murmur so the rest of the crew didn't hear and grow distressed worrying about their commander.
"He's in his quarters, thinking," the fox replied just as quietly. "He's under a lot of stress, of course. There's a lot to consider. He received an update from Macbeth that as of now we're the only mobile battle group left in this entire half of Lylat."
"The enemy has engaged everyone else?" Armand said with slight incredulity, raising one eyebrow. Carlstaff nodded grimly.
"They have. 'Everyone else' is tied down with either staying alive or regrouping to keep themselves from being killed off one by one. Apparently the group we fought was unique. They were the only ones who were more focused on targets besides us. It's bad… we can't get a clear picture of what's going on. I showed the pilots what we knew, but… with the numbers the enemy has on their side the situation is sure to have changed drastically by now."
Armand sighed. "The crew's faring pretty well, though," he said reassuringly. "They're not working just to distract themselves. They're good men."
"We'll need them," Carlstaff said. "The captain will need all of us." He too sighed, with much more despondency in his voice as he stared out into the messy void of subspace.
"Sometimes I don't know what's worse at times like these… needing to depend on someone, or having someone depend on you."
Armand found that he had no answer, and together they watched the Aragosa flow through subspace in silence. The crew continued to work fluidly, in relative calm; a few muttered reports and orders went here and there, but otherwise things went on like any other normal day, with the tension of knowing they were heading into a firestorm kept at a bare minimum. Erin soon spoke up from his post.
"Exit from subspace in thirty minutes."
-----------------------------------------------
Captain Nadal Corvus Ani sat back down in his quarters much like he had the day before, before the attack came and his life was thrown into chaos and danger again. He was reclining in his large easy chair, boots off and paws up on a footstool, crossed over each other. He was trying to relax, and it just wasn't working. Of course, very soon he would have to head back up to the bridge, take command, and be one of the unsung heroes that were front line soldiers, but in the last eight hours he had given all the possible orders he could before major interference with long-range communication created what was essentially a blackout as far as intelligence on enemy and allied positions and statuses went. One of the biggest dangers to any armed force was a lack of situational knowledge, and the only situation that Nadal had knowledge of was the one around Macbeth. General Hare had not ordered him and his frigates there, but rather the planetary governor, a stout little shrew by the name Thaddeus Belconi, and Macbeth's local fleet admiral Lazarus Valentine. Anything higher was simply gone. The central command was no longer Corneria and her stiff-necked, posh generals, but whatever high ranking officers the local fleets could scrape together. Nadal knew that the enemy was moving fast and showing almost no mercy. Venom was likely conquered by now, its governor Dash probably dead, and Papetoon, the former home of Star Fox, was long gone. The current status of both worlds, their defending fleets, and the enemy ones that had besieged them was completely unknown to Nadal. The allied fleets in Sectors Z and Y had either been overrun or simply couldn't contact anyone outside their assigned sectors. Nadal simply had no clue about what was going on outside his immediate area. And yet he had to go back out onto the bridge in less than an hour and pretend that he knew everything they needed, and that he knew exactly what to do with that information.
He closed his eyes and rested his head against the chair. What to do next but head for Macbeth and hope for the best? But he had made it sound like such a good and formidable plan to the others. They were all depending on him to keep his cool, and he knew it. He would not fail. Not like he failed at Fichina. There would be no more massacres of innocents and allies under his watch. He was a captain and would not falter. He could not. But what about Corneria and the inner system? What about the people there? No way to know and no reason to think about it. He had to focus on what he had.
It was times like these he was glad he did not have family to worry about. His only family was his crew. And yet, despite them being family, they all had to accept that any one of them could die, likely because of the orders of those above them. It was one reason the captain kept himself mostly detached from the crew. He was supposed to be a leader and a father figure, not an emotionally attached friend. That led to complications and was a danger to discipline, which was one of the most important traits any soldier could have. It allowed him to fly straight at the enemy without fear, guns blazing, and also allowed him to retreat in an orderly fashion and save face in defeat.
Like so many others in Lylat, his thoughts eventually drifted back to Star Fox. Such a tight-knit group, he mused, and see how it was beset by problems before and during the Anglar invasion. It was sheer luck and willpower that had pulled them together again. Mercenaries were, in his view, not soldiers, but merely skilled civilians paid to fight, and had all the problems of ordinary people. Hopefully they would have pulled things together by now and were wreaking havoc on the aliens.
Much as he disliked the idea of a mercenary, he couldn't help but think what he would give to see the Great Fox warp in during this next battle. But he had to have faith in his soldiers now. They were Lylat's only chance. From the way Macbeth and General Hare had put it, he was Lylat's only chance, if they wanted to get back on their feet and start hitting back effectively. Star Fox could not fight a millions strong army by themselves.
"All right then," he whispered to himself. "All right. I'll do my job. You do yours. And we'll get of this alive."
"Sir," came Lieutenant Carlstaff's voice. "Twenty minutes until we exit subspace."
"I'll be on the bridge immediately," Nadal said, standing up and getting his uniform back in order.
He slipped on his navy cap, and looked at himself in the mirror. He was not a simple otter anymore. He was a soldier all over again, and Lylat needed him. No more thinking. Only action.
He answered her call almost without thinking.
"Give the pilots their briefings," he said on the way out.
----------------------------------------------------
The darkness of the cockpit as the hatch closed and went to maximum opacity was nearly overwhelming. He was shut off from the rest of the world, his own helmet a self-contained survival system, able to withstand even some of the ravages of space itself. It was very quiet inside. The sickly green glow of the HUD powering up gave an extremely lifeless and somewhat monstrous view of the pilot, who sat completely still as he awaited the orders for his particular squadron, snug and secure in his little, compact world that he was master of. Beneath and behind, the Starblazer thrummed and whined as it powered up, the noise dulled by the thickness of the pilot's carapace. Everything was mechanical, automatic, disciplined. The pilot remained still, having gone through all of this dozens of times before.
Then came a voice; male, deep, sure, and simple. Words scrolled across the inner face of the helmet, accompanying the voice. The utter blackness inside the cockpit assisted in making it visible and plain to read. The pilot only blinked at the sudden intrusion of light into his secure space, but remained like a statue otherwise.
"Pilot, attention. I will try to make this brief. The enemy you are about to face is confirmed to be a sentient species completely different from anything inside the Lylat system. What you are about to fight is alien in every sense of the word. You are expected to treat them as any other hostile, and you will maintain your discipline and order in the face of the enemy. At Sargasso, we proved they die as easily as any one of us.
"The Aragosa and her frigates will drop out of subspace near Cyrene, a defense platform in orbit around Macbeth. We have received a report not too long ago that a massive enemy force has engaged Macbeth's defending fleet. Nearly the entire defense grid, including Cyrene, has been engaged and is under heavy attack. Your squadron is being deployed to defend Cyrene itself, and the weapon platforms it is in control of. Keep the Cyrene and its weapon platforms intact. If the enemy can punch a hole through there, our defense will be severely weakened and possibly compromised entirely, giving the enemy a straight shot at the planet and its construction yards. Reports of long-range ballistic missiles used by the enemy for heavy bombardment have been confirmed. These weapons, pictured in the accompanying database, are extremely dangerous and may be used to attack the planet itself and its orbiting shipyards. They are to be treated as a class B threat and must be dealt with above all others only should they be within your striking range.
"If we keep Cyrene and its defense grid intact, it is possible the enemy will never get into position to even use these deadly weapons. Defend Cyrene at all costs. Remember, you will be coming out under fire. That is all, pilot."
The HUD flickered and went dark for a moment, before everything flashed to life. The entire cockpit was lit up like a celebration was in order as the ship powered itself for immediate take-off. The Aragosa had just dropped out of subspace, and lowered the shields around its hanger. The pilot gunned his engine, and set his throttle to maximum. The Starblazer lived true to its name, roaring out of the hanger into the furious exchange of firepower just outside the ship. A battle was raging all along the perimeter of Macbeth's defenses, with the strange alien ships hammering at the steady line of Lylatians. Fire and death was sprouting all over, illuminating the lone ship in a deathly light that only war could exude.
The pilot hesitated but a moment before shunting power to his G-Diffuser, and boosting straight into the middle of the maelstrom.
------------------------------------------------
A/N: Whoo! And I stop here until next chapter, which will detail the battle itself. It's going to be long, bloody, and fun. Tune in next time,