Chapter 7: Sweep and Clear (Meteo)

There had been little time to celebrate Fara's induction. Congratulations were exchanged, but it was back to the grind after Lieutenant-Commander Smith's departure. Fara remembered the admiral - Shapira, she thought - lobbing out a comment about Smith "having her in the palm of his hand" before her hologram disappeared. Could've been my imagination. I was still shellshocked.

Fox's voice pulled her back to the real world. "Let's go over the order of things." Fara looked to her right at the vulpine. He was standing at the head of the glass conference table, leaning into his hands that rested on its hickory brim. Fara, Krystal, Falco, Miyu, Peppy and Slippy all sat around the table in stuffed black chairs, the first three on the left side and the others on the right. The rectangular table's long sides curved outwards, like an oval, while its head and foot were straight-edged. An eight-point holographic projection network housed beneath the glass surface displayed a three-dimensional image of the Meteo belt at eye level.

"CDF and Navy assets are sweeping the entire Belt for remaining hostile forces. We're lending a hand with the Kepler Zone, here." Fox pushed out of his lean and picked up a datapad sitting on the table. He poked at a few spots on the pad, and the hologram zoomed in on the sector in question.

"Why Kepler?" asked Miyu, gesturing towards the display. She sat to Fox's right, in the seat furthest away from him. The lynx's left elbow was propped on the table, her chin tucked between two knuckles.

Fox answered, "It's right over where we took down that carrier. The Old Man thinks it's the most likely place for the survivors to run, and he wants us there if our people run into trouble. Speaking of our people…"

Orange-furred hands played across the datapad's surface, and the tabletop hologram was replaced with a Cornerian corvette. Below it appeared the words "C.S.S. Rittenback." The ship's array of small engines protruded from its stern, and its aft portion as a whole looked like a box. This squared, angular design continued throughout the ship, though its dimensions gradually shrunk from midships toward the bow. It would have looked something like an arrowhead, if not for one major detail. The bow looked like someone had glued a massive cylinder sideways onto the front end. Its cylindric bow seemed to overshadow the rest of the design; it was even wider than the ship itself.

Fara raised a finger, "Sorry, but what is that?" She leveled said finger at the ship's ugly front bumper from her spot at the middle of the table's left side.

Next to her and closest to Fox, Krystal supplied an answer. "That's a Numbani-class corvette; part of a larger initiative to light a fire under military development, and by extension, the economy. That lovely bow design actually holds the most precise scanning equipment ever mounted on a ship… as well as some kind of new ECM system; isn't that right, Fox?"

Her counterpart nodded. "Yeah, that's about the gist of it. Those scanners are why the Rittenback here will be joining us in the Belt."

Fara's eyes widened. "A warship, in the Belt?"

Peppy cleared his throat from the middle of the right side. "It's a risky move, alright, but corvettes are the smallest warships we got. Her sensors are good but they ain't perfect, 'specially when you got asteroids smacking into each other all around ya. They'll need to get her in close to pick up any 'Nomies hanging around."

Falco leaned back in his chair, crossing his wings at his chest. "So what's the deal, Foxie? You expect us to blast space rocks outta their way so they don't end up playing pinball with asteroids?"

Fox turned on him, his tone dead serious. "No, I don't - and that's another thing. Everybody watch your fire out there. I mean it; one stray missile could send an asteroid right into a friendly."

The avian raised his wings. "Alright, Foxie. I got ya."

Fox exhaled. "Okay. As I was saying, the Rittenback is going into the Belt. Normally you'd be right, Falco; there would be nowhere near enough room. Here's where things get weird." He fiddled with his datapad and the hologram shifted back to Meteo. The difference was, there were a lot less asteroids. The Kepler Zone didn't look barren by any means; however, there was more breathing room than normal, especially for an asteroid field as tightly packed as Meteo.

Miyu hummed. "Well, that's new. Any idea what happened?"

Fox shook his head. "I'm not sure, but General Pepper thinks they're trying to cut through Meteo. I know it sounds ridiculous; punching a hole clean through the field would take months at best."

Krystal furrowed her brow, shaking her head in turn - though this time her tone was more somber. "No. They wouldn't have to."

Falco cocked his head. "What're you thinking, Blue?"

Krystal rolled her chair back and stood. She tucked a thumb under her chin and rested her elbow on her left arm, pacing as she spoke to keep her train of thought in motion. "They wouldn't have to dig clear through the Belt. Meteo has always served as a natural defensive line for Corneria. To some extent, the CDF has come to rely on it: most of our Orbital Defense Platforms are concentrated where Meteo is at its thinnest. So, what do the Venomians do? They exploit our most severe weakness; the one part of our security network that cannot be rebuilt."

Fox passed his datapad into Krystal's open paw. She touched a button and the asteroids snapped back to match the original image. Everyone - even Falco - was rapt as the Cerinian continued. "The Kepler Zone is one of the thickest in the Belt, so there are only a handful of orbital platforms between it and the surface. We've already established wiping out an entire corridor is possible but unrealistic; not to mention time-consuming. CDF patrols would pick up their scent before they would even be a fraction of the way through." She took a breath. "Their problem has two solutions… and they have elected to take the path of least resistance."

Krystal dragged her finger along the bottom edge of the datapad's screen. One by one, asteroids winked out of existence; smaller ones disappeared, while larger ones were fragmented before suffering the same fate.

"They strategically pinprick the Kepler Zone, destroying just enough to create a viable path, but still leaving enough intact to keep us blind." There was now enough space for Krystal to draw three red arrows, each representing a nearly invisible path right to Corneria's backdoor. Their tactics had worked: one ship; an aircraft carrier for God's sake; had slipped by a planetary defense grid like a killer in the night.

"Oh my God," whispered Miyu, horror evident on her face, "That's how they hit Corneria."

"But… how?" pondered Fox, still reeling himself, "How could they do this so fast?"

Krystal pursed her lips. "That, I'm not sure of. Mining vessels and ore diggers could do the job quickly enough, but 'could' and 'enough' are insufficient for the Venomians. An undertaking of this scale would have required far more of those vessels than what could hope to stay undetected. No, there's something else." The vixen was silent for a moment as she pondered her own question. "I suspect they've created something specifically for this. Dedicated 'rock crushers,' if you will. A small number of these; maybe even one, if they are truly bold; could be responsible for what they have accomplished."

Falco held up a wing in question. "Blue, you're onto something here, but 'rock crushers?' Are you hearing yourself?"

Fox, too, seemed skeptical about the last point. "Krystal… are you sure about this?"

Miyu spoke up, "I'm with her, boss. We all know how far out there the 'Nomies are with designs. Just look at the carrier we took down; that thing was so ugly it could've been a modern art masterpiece."

Fox's expression changed to one of serious contemplation. "Are you sure about this?" he asked again, slower this time. Silence enveloped the conference room, seconds ticking by while the sapphire vixen mentally checked every last detail.

Krystal gave a firm nod. "Absolutely."

Her tone of dead certainty sent Fox into action. A minute later, the LED monitor on the far wall sprang to life with the face of CSS Matterhorn's comms officer. Another thirty seconds, and the lioness was replaced by Rear Admiral Dawson; a jet black crow with piercing eyes who filled out his dress blues like a recruiting poster.

Dawson spoke in a deep baritone. "Staff Commander McCloud, is there something you need? My comms officer said the matter is urgent."

Fox nodded, falling back into strict professionalism. "Yes, sir. Lieutenant?"

Krystal proceeded to recount her analysis, red arrows and all. Her speech was more concise this time around, thanks to having time to organize her thoughts. Dawson observed the whole thing with the precision of a laser.

"I'll be damned…" he said under his breath once Krystal had finished. "I'll send this up the chain; Vice Admiral Shapira arrived early this morning."

Fox was confused. "Sir, I thought the Fifth Fleet was in Sector Y?"

Dawson nodded. "They are. The Vice Admiral was recalled to Corneria last night, for transfer to her new flagship. They should be undocking shortly." The avian cleared his throat. "But I digress. Consider the timetable moved up. I'm transferring two flights to the Kepler Zone; they are under your command for the duration of this mission. Guard the Rittenback on its way in. The instant the Venomians show their faces, hunt them down. Find whatever is destroying my asteroid belt, and when you do, obliterate it."

Fox straightened up. "Aye, aye, sir."

Dawson shifted towards Krystal. "And, Lieutenant? Good catch." The LED monitor blacked out.

Fox looked around the room. "Any questions?" There were none. "Alright. Everyone suit up and settle in. We launch in ten."

One by one, Star Fox's inner circle deserted the conference room until only he and Krystal were left.

"Fox?"

"Hm?" His face was buried in his datapad, busy powering down the holographic display. The blue vixen stood uneasily before him, biting her lower lip and wringing her hands together.

Her response was hesitant. She couldn't quite meet his eyes. "Just… be careful."

And there was that cocky grin. "I'll be fine, I promise." His grin fell when he looked up and saw how fidgety she was. Fox set down his datapad and stepped around the table. He fixed her with a concerned look as he closed the distance between them. "Krystal, what's wrong?"

"That's what you said last time," she snapped. Krystal wanted to lash out at his damned arrogance, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead, she reflected nothing but worry. "It's just… when we were fighting that carrier, and I saw you… there was just a fireball. I thought you were dead. I… I don't know what I would have done, if-"

"Hey." He put a hand on her shoulder and - without really knowing it - laced his other paw's fingers with her own. "I had Slippy go over my Arwing. He says there's nothing wrong with it. Do you trust him?" She swallowed and nodded. Fox smiled reassuringly. "You know me. I'll be okay." He squeezed her shoulder, hoping the gesture would convince her.

Krystal exhaled and hung her head down. "Okay…" she whispered. They stayed like that, enjoying each other's presence until Krystal noticed something.

"Fox?" Her voice was heavy with… mischief?

"Yeah?" he prompted, emerald eyes meeting aquamarine.

Krystal lifted up their intertwined paws. A sly smirk tugged at her lips. "You're holding my hand."

"OH my g-" Fox let go and backpedaled like he was holding a grenade. His face turned bright scarlet, and Krystal wondered if his eyeballs would shoot out of his skull. "I-I-I mean, I was just… just trying to…"

Krystal folded her arms and watched the Cornerian language abandon the poor vulpine, self-satisfied smirk plastered on her face all the while. Only when he stopped did she show mercy and settle a finger against his muzzle.

"I'm convinced." Krystal sauntered over to the door, fully conscious of exactly where his gaze had fallen to. "Well?" she beckoned, "Come on."

Fox shook himself out of his trance and followed her.

000

Fox gazed around at the expanse of stars and asteroids before him, his Arwing in pace with the Rittenback. The corvette's grey body occupied his starboard viewport, a few red and green running lights playing across its surface. To Fox's left was Solar, Lylat Prime's sibling in this binary star system. The vulpine's mirrored visor bocked out most of the sun's light, the solar glare reflecting white against his visor's black surface. His team maintained an arrowhead pattern off the corvette's port side. The only sounds in his world were a few soft beeps from various cockpit functions, as well as the suck-click-hiss, suck-click-hiss of his oxygen mask. Like his teammates and the other Navy pilots around them, everyone wore masks, helmets and visors with their flight suits. Their Arwings' internalized atmospheres and G-Diffusers notwithstanding, ejecting into cold space without a personal oxygen supply would have been beyond foolish.

The vulpine looked to his right as he called out to the other pilots. "Kepler Group, this is Bullpup. Check in, over." His voice was filtered and slightly muffled through his mask, as was everyone else.

Falco was the first to reply. "This is Skyclaw. Nothing's moving on my scopes."

Krystal was next. "This is Cloud Runner. All clear."

Miyu came third. "Zephyr, here. Clear as a bell, over."

Fara banked right, slipping back into the arrowhead formation behind Falco. Lacking a call sign, she used her name instead. "Phoenix, reporting in. I've got nothing."

The first flight leader took his turn, reporting in from the Rittenback's other side. "This is Tango One. All clear on the-"

"Tango One, Tango Three. Belay that. I've got a very sporadic contact, bearing zero-two-niner… whoa! I'm locked; I'm lock-"

A large, blossoming explosion cut off the pilot's transmission. A few exclamations came over the radio as nearly a third of Tango Flight was wiped out. The blast swallowed half a dozen Bottlenose fighters, and the same number of white blips disappeared from Fox's display.

Fox growled. "Shit! Set perimeter; cover the Rittenback!"

"Rittenback, Tango Eleven. Be advised, missiles inbound on your position!"

Three small anti-ship missiles flew over a nearby asteroid and homed in on the corvette. Once they entered point defense range, the Rittenback's gunners fired. Each missile was speared by a bright ultraviolet beam, and all three were vaporized before they could impact.

"Kepler Group, this is Rittenback. Bogeys padlocked; standby for NetSync." Fox's radar display cleared up like someone had flipped a switch. Individual asteroids were now clearly visible, as were several dozen red contacts. "ODPs (Orbital Defense Platforms) are sending another flight for guard duty. Hunt 'em down, Kepler; we've got things covered here."

Fox keyed his comm. "Solid copy, Rittenback. Kepler Group moving to engage."

"This is Tango Flight. We'll clear the right path."

"Yankee Flight here; we'll take the center line."

Miyu cracked her knuckles. "Guess that means we take the left." The lynx gunned her throttle, blasting off into the tightly-packed asteroid field. Star Fox's other four pilots lined up and followed her in.

000

"Scratch one!" Falco called as his target exploded.

Fara pulled up on his left and wiggled her wings. "That's cute. Watch this." The fennec hit her afterburners and closed in on a pair of Invader Is. Pinned to her seat from the G-forces and grinning wildly beneath her mask, Fara pulled the trigger. Her Rapid Laser Cannon spun up and unleashed death, pulverizing the Venomian on the left. She rolled her craft through the Invader's glittering disintegrated remains (for style points), and then shunted herself to starboard, right behind Asshole Number Two. At least, that was what she called the enemy pilot. She fired.

And missed.

Emerald beams stabbed through open space, just above and to the left of their intended target. In the end, though, it made no difference. Seeing the angel of death behind him, the Venomian airman panicked. He rolled in the opposite direction, down and starboard - right in front of an asteroid. The primate screamed in horror for half a second, and then he and his fighter were flattened against the solid rock.

Fara spared a glance at the small explosion behind her. "That's a kill, right?"

Miyu zipped past her Stinger and fired a swarmer at a quartet of Venomian fighters. With five mini-warheads after each of them, there were no survivors. "Ding, ding. Lights out."

"Hey! That's cheating!"

"Can't hear you over the sound of my - Fara, watch your right!"

"Whoa!" Another four Invaders came out of nowhere. Fara pulled up, letting the momentum pin her to her seat again - fighting it was a bad idea. Crimson flashes of Venomian laser fire lit up her former position. Fox nailed the Invader at the back of the line with his hyper lasers, but the other three escaped and continued their pursuit. Fara's Stinger disappeared from their fields of vision when she went vertical and slipped behind an asteroid cluster.

Falco took stock of their surroundings. "Field's getting thicker, Fox. No room to pull a one-eighty."

Krystal grumbled in frustration. "No way up, either."

"Don't worry about me; I'll catch up!"

"You sure?" asked Fox.

"Just go! I got this; there's only three of 'em!" An alarm all pilots dreaded broke across the comm. Its quick two-toned beat signified a missile lock. "Ah, hell!" The audio line snapped closed.

"She said she'd catch up. Let's go." Fox nudged his throttle and pulled to the head of the formation. Off the comm, he muttered, "Nothing we can do anyway."

They moved on through the Meteo belt, picking off fighters and bombers as they reared their ugly heads. Hundreds of asteroids and dozens of Invaders later, the Cornerian corvette pinged their radios.

"Star Fox, this is Rittenback. We're picking up a single large contact near the far side of the Kepler Zone. Scanners are unable to accurately read it through the Belt, but it looks as big as us."

Fox activated his transmitter. "Understood, Rittenback. Mark a nav point; we'll check it out."

"Copy, marking now. We don't know what it is. Advise caution, over."

"We'll be careful. Star Fox out."

"Rittenback out." A red delta faded into view on the pilots' visor HUDs, less than a kilometer away. The four pilots reoriented their formation and moved to intercept.

Miyu drifted closer to Fox. "You think Fara got that?"

"She'll get the nav point, if nothing else…" He trailed off upon realizing there was no ship at the provided coordinates.

Falco cleared his throat. "Uh, Fox? Did we get the right address?"

Fox pinged the corvette. "Rittenback, there's nothing here." Unintelligible static was all that replied. "Rittenback, do you copy?"

Painful crackles erupted through everyone's helmet speakers. A new voice made itself known over the comm. The accent was posh, the tone mocking, and the owner definitely not Cornerian. "I cannot allow you to go any further."

Their cockpits were cloaked in shadow as a strange ship passed over their heads. Its bulky frame rotated to face them with all the urgency of a turtle. There was really only one way to describe it: a big damned rock crusher.

"Well," Miyu commented, "That's new."

"Oh, indeed. Pray tell, were you four truly responsible for Captain Blake's defeat?"

An idea popped into Fox's head. The longer they kept this… interesting man talking, the closer reinforcements could get. "We were. Staff Commander Fox McCloud, Federation Navy."

"Such a pleasure, Commander. My name is Barron Rudolph von Stöeben, Venomian Corps of Engineers." It took all of Miyu's self-control not to burst out laughing. Was this guy for real? "Your battle against the Donnager was impressive, I must admit."

Falco snorted. "Well, we don't like to brag, but-"

Fara's voice tore across the line. "...but they had a little help from me!" Above and behind them, her Stinger screamed over the top of a nearby asteroid, a missile within spitting distance of her exhaust port. Fara jinked downwards and launched a set of flares. The heat seeking warhead veered off after one of the new thermal signatures and detonated harmlessly. Smelling blood in the water, her pursuers accelerated.

There were five of them. Fox ordered his team to stand down: this was her fight, and they would only be caught in the crossfire. Five on one. No shields, no top-grade weapons.

Fara's speech was strained from a healthy mix of gravitational pressure and adrenaline. "It's like my Senior Prom all over again!" Two of the pilots fired missiles again, this time at close range. The other three took potshots with lasers. Fara glanced at her display to check their positions. When the lead fighter drew within a kilometer of her tail, the fennec made her move.

Fara cut her speed in half and yanked the stick back. She leveled her aircraft halfway through the loop, darting upside-down past the Venomians in the other direction. The last thing the enemy pilots expected was an Immelmann in an asteroid field, and it showed. Invaders couldn't hope to match a Stinger's maneuverability. The lead fighter tried, and got a faceful of rock for his trouble. The second flew straight on in the now-opposite direction of his target. The other three lined up and moved through a wider alternate route. They reacquired their target after she had righted her interceptor.

Fara laughed at the fighter she'd shaken off. "Keep running, buddy; you'll only die tired!" Lasers flashed past her canopy on both sides. "Hey! I'm trying to fly, here!"

In another unexpected move, Fara dipped beneath their crosshairs and hit her retros, curbing most of her velocity. The fennec let out an explosive oof! at being jerked forward in her harness. Her brake check did the trick; all three Invaders flew over her head in a tightly grouped "V". Her interceptor pulled in behind the guy on the left. The pilots realized their mistake, but it was too late: a light-toned bong sang to Fara's ears. Her visor tagged the left and center Invaders with "Target Locked."

"If you've got a God, I'd start praying." She rested her thumb over the angled red button protruding from the side of her stick, and squeezed. A pair of missiles left her wings, one after each fighter. Their craft lacking any sort of countermeasures, the Venomian pilots were powerless against their fiery deaths. Desperate to escape this demoness, Invader number three went full throttle between the asteroids.

"Oh, no you don't! Get. Back. Here." The fennec gunned her throttle. She matched his every move and could have killed him a dozen times, but she held her fire. She wanted this man to know he was going to die and couldn't to do anything about it.

Only when needles of crimson streaked past her did she stop toying with her prey. The final Invader had caught up with her. In one go, she ripped her target in half with her laser minigun, cut engines and kicked her Stinger into a double roll to portside. The killshot and evasive maneuver landed her just outside the asteroid belt. The last man standing swooped around to meet her head on.

"Come on; come to Mama!" Fara slammed her jet into full thrust, answering his challenge. The two fighters barreled towards each other full-speed in a deadly game of chicken. The Venomian opened fire when she entered weapons range. Fara steeled herself against the laser light show and kept on flying. At no more than two thousand meters, her counterpart faltered. It was for a mere second, but that was all the fennec needed.

She cut loose with her minigun, rolling left again at the same time. The two fighters slipped past each other by so narrow a margin, they could have traded paint. By pure luck - not that Fara would ever admit it - one of her lasers speared into the missile housed beneath the Invader's right wing. The warhead detonated in its clamps, blowing off the entire wing and destroying one of the craft's two engines. The fighter corkscrewed erratically out of control, half the fuselage on fire and the remaining engine billowing smoke. Fara's last opponent spun off towards the Belt. No one heard the pilot's screams as two asteroids crashed together with him in between.

Fara whooped and pumped a fist in the air. "Hell yeah! Sucks to be that guy!" She looped her craft in celebration and banked into line with the four Arwings, reunited at last with her new teammates. "Sorry I'm late, everyone. Got stuck in traffic."

Miyu laughed. "A woman after my own heart."

Falco smirked beneath his mask. "And then there were five. How ya feelin' now, Rudy?"

The Shakespearean wannabe cleared his throat. "Quite a display. Quite a display, indeed. 'Tis clear, I am outmatched. How could I hope to compete? I'm no match for you."

It took a few seconds for that to register. "What?" questioned Krystal, skepticism bleeding from her voice.

"I admit defeat."

Silence enveloped Star Fox's cockpits, each pilot looking at their teammates through one way glass. A still-unanswered question hovered in the air: was this guy for real?

Falco coughed. "Uh, yeah. I'm gonna go ahead and call bullshit on that."

Barron Rudolph von Stöeben's maddening voice chuckled. The noise reminded Fara of nails on a chalkboard, moustached stalkers and bad movie villains all at once. "Oh how splendid; you're not as stupid as you look. This is the end for you, my friends."

Miyu observed, "How, exactly? What guns do you even have on that..."

He cut her off with another chuckle. "How about… THIS?" Panels slid open at the ship's front end, exposing dozens of missile racks, all of varying shapes, sizes and colors. It was like staring into the mouth of a giant prehistoric shark, with high-yield, jet-propelled explosives for teeth.

"...oh."

Fara's eyes widened. "Well that's a 'fuck your strategy' variety pack, right there."

The ape laughed hysterically. The horrible noise was so shrill that Fara's ears rang in its wake. "Time to die, little soldiers!"

Unfortunately for "Rudy," he would never get the chance to do anything. The instant he finished speaking, a brilliant sapphire beam arcing with white electricity hit the rock crusher from above like a truck. The impact carried enough force to knock the vessel off of its trajectory. Several lights went out aboard the Venomian ship, and not one missile was fired.

"Whoa! What was that?!"

A feminine Southern Corneria drawl floated out of their headsets. "Whoops." The voice was unmistakable.

Vice Admiral Nava Shapira stood aboard the brand-new CSS Tyber's bridge, clad in full dress blues (which, again, were black) right down to the ceremonial white gloves. The feline held a mug of coffee in her left paw; her other hand was clenched in a victorious fist in front of her.

"Lieutenant Chung! Status?"

A cream-furred vixen at her ten o'clock reported, "Enemy ship's main power is offline. Weapons are disabled, and their engines are operating on auxiliary generators."

"Weapons offline? Well, that's convenient. I'd say the Ion Cannon is a success."

Fox smiled at hearing the admiral's voice. She was a Fleet-wide celebrity for a reason, and her casual, almost playful manner indicated decades of experience and a long list of victories. "Good morning, Admiral. Field-testing your new flagship?"

Shapira raised her coffee mug. "Ha! I like the way you think. I was heading back to Sector Y, but I figured I'd swing by since I was in the neighborhood." She took a sip. "Ensign Rodriguez?"

Tyber's comms officer spun in his chair. "Yes, Admiral?"

"Open a channel to the mining ship from Hell, please."

"Aye, aye, ma'am. Link is open and stable."

Shapira set her coffee down on the rim of her captain's chair and straightened her coat. "This is Vice Admiral Nava Shapira, Cornerian Federation Navy. To whom am I speaking?"

The ape blanched at his opponent's identity. "B-B-Barron Rudolph von St-"

Shapira cringed like she had a bad taste in her mouth. "Oh, God. I think I've heard enough." She tapped a few buttons on her wristcom, making sure the ape heard every word. "CIC, Bridge. Standby to kill with Leviathan torpedoes."

"TAO copies. Surface, standby to kill with Leviathan torpedoes."

"TAO, Surface; I receive. Kill track eight-five-zero-two-three, target acquired."

"Charlie-Oscar (CO), TAO. CIC ready to fire."

"Bridge copies. Spin 'em up; launch on my mark."

Stöeben was a hairsbreadth away from a panic attack. "No! Wait! I admit defeat! I admit defeat!"

Shapira shooed at his image on the viewscreen. "Yeah yeah yeah, fool me once." She settled back into her chair, crossed her legs and picked up her coffee. The feline narrowed her eyes at her pathetic adversary. "You attacked my planet. You killed my people. And now I've got you dead in space." She hummed as she realized something. "You know, this'll be a lot like licking a lollipop."

"I… What?" His confusion was clear.

The admiral finished off her coffee before answering. Shapira leaned forward with a terrifying predatory smile. She ran her tongue across her canines.

"I wonder how many torpedoes it will take to get to your center…"

"No, wait! Please! I'll do anythi-"

"Ensign, shut him up." The gibbering monkey (and his ungodly voice) snapped out of existence, leaving the stars, Meteo, and the oh-so-intimidating 'rock crusher' in his place.

Shapira stabbed a button on her left armrest. "Commander?"

"Yes, Admiral?" replied the flagship's TAO.

"Burn that son of a bitch."

Star Fox backed off as no less than six Leviathan torpedoes blasted out of the Tyber's launch tubes and streaked towards their quarry. The oversized warheads were capital ship busters; just one would have gutted the rock crusher port to starboard. A half-dozen of them was complete overkill, but no one could deny the message it sent. Venom may have started this war, but Corneria would finish it.

The torpedoes themselves already caused impressive explosions. When the rock crusher's dozens of missile racks cooked off, the scene turned into pure destructive art. Orange, yellow and purple explosions swallowed the ship's front end, quite literally tearing its face off. Chains of internal detonations blossomed along the hull as critical systems went up in flames, rending the ship apart from within. A massive fireball consumed the rock crusher, pieces flying out of the maelstrom like angry Frisbees. When all was said and done, the only remnants were bits of armor plating and unidentifiable masses of Titanium debris.

A single tear formed in Fara's eye. "Jesus… that was beautiful."

Shapira laughed. "You're my type of spacer! I don't know why we didn't pick you up sooner. I've got to jet, but good luck to all of you; I hope we get the chance to work together again." The admiral cleared her throat and switched to address her crew. "All hands, prepare for jump to Sector Y." She reclined in her chair and nodded to someone off-screen. "Punch it."

Motes of blue light gathered around the Tyber as her jump drives charged up. With a snap, the massive ship was gone.

Krystal sighed, lowering her guard now that they had some breathing room. "Well, Fox? What now?"

"The rest of the group's reporting all clear… so, that's another mission down. Good work, everyone." The vulpine eased his craft around and flew back towards Great Fox. "Let's go home."

000

Fara crossed through the locker room hatch, unbuckling her helmet as she walked.

Falco pulled off his gloves and tossed them into his locker. "Hey, there she is! The woman of the hour!"

Krystal smiled and offered a simple, "Well done," amid disassembling her mask and neatly organizing its parts.

Miyu tossed a mock salute her way. "Nice job out there…" she leaned in for a fist bump, "…Baroness."

Fara quirked an eyebrow. "Come again?"

"You need a call sign. What do you think?"

"Long as you're not calling me 'Screw,' I'm happy." Miyu snickered and smacked her on the shoulder.

"Phoenix." She looked over at Fox, arms crossed and wearing a businesslike expression. He cocked his head to the side, gesturing her to follow.

Fara decided to address his concern off the bat. "I know, that was risky and stupid. It won't happen again."

Fox gave her a confused sideways glance as they wound through Great Fox's corridors. "What do you… oh, that?" He chuckled. "I should be giving you a medal for that kind of flying!"

Now it was Fara's turn to look confused. "But…"

The vulpine stopped outside his quarters. "What order did you disobey? What regs did you break? Whose lives did you put at risk?"

"I… I don't know."

Fox leveled a finger at her. "Exactly. You didn't. I'm not some CO with a stick up his ass and a bone to pick. The way I saw it? You held off a group of enemy fighters by yourself, and then you took out every single one. Not to mention you were dodging asteroids the whole time, and even used them to your advantage! No one can argue it now: you're definitely Star Fox material."

"Wow," Fara replied as he beckoned her into his quarters. "Uh… thanks."

He shrugged. "You're welcome. And don't worry about getting punished for something stupid around here. We do the impossible first, and worry about the rules second."

"I like it; it's just hard to get used to. If anything, I expected special ops to be even more by-the-book than the rank and file."

Fox shut the door behind them. "A lot of people expect that, and they all end up surprised. Sure, there's a few sticks in the mud, but almost everyone in spec ops has their head on straight enough to where suffocating regs aren't necessary."

"I'll keep that in mind. So, what is this about, anyway?"

Fox reached into a drawer and pulled out a black tablet stamped with a red Star Fox logo. "This is your personal datapad." Fara carefully took the shiny black PDA from his outstretched hand. "I could go on and on about what it can do, but I'll spare you the boredom. The only important thing right now is building you an Arwing. The process is easy enough to figure out, but don't be afraid to ask Slippy if you have any questions. Once you've got everything how you want it, we'll send the design over to Space Dynamics."

"This is great. Thank you."

Fox smiled. "No problem."

"No; I mean… thank you. For doing all of this for me. You're giving me a whole new life. I can't thank you enough."

"You're talking to the wrong person."

"What do you mean?"

The vulpine pursed his lips. "Honestly, it wasn't even my idea in the first place. Don't get me wrong; you were very good. There was just so much going on that it didn't even cross my mind. Let's just say someone gave me a push."

"Who gave… wait a minute." Fox watched her figure it out. When she did, her eyes widened. "She didn't."

Fox affirmed, "She did. Quite adamantly, as a matter of fact." He leaned against the wall. "That's all I needed. Get some rest; you've earned it."

Five Minutes Later…

Fara stepped into Krystal's room and shut the door behind her. The sapphire vixen was laying on her mattress in a crew tee-shirt and red jogging pants, reading a book about Kathari history.

"Hey," Fara greeted her.

Krystal looked up and closed her book. "Hey," she answered and stood up. "How are you? You had me worried back there."

Fara crossed her arms. "Really, I can take care of myself."

"I know. I just didn't want you to fly off and blow yourself up on your first mission with us."

"Speaking of flying with you," she stepped forward, "Did you vouch for me?"

Krystal smiled all-knowingly and tapped a finger against her chin. "I may have planted a bug in his ear last night…"

"OH MY GOD I LOVE YOU!" Krystal dropped her book and her tail shot out in agitation. She let out a startled yip as Fara turned into a brown blur and barreled forward to wrap her in a bear hug. Krystal was lifted a few inches off the deck, and the poor vixen felt something crack in her chest as Fara endlessly repeated her thanks.

Krystal wheezed, "Fara… can't breathe… put me down!" She did, but she didn't stop thanking her. Fara looked so happy, Krystal half-expected her to break into song or cartwheel around the room. She was flying with some of the best pilots in the military, fighting the war on the front lines. The crew had welcomed her with open arms, too, treating her as one of their own from the get-go. She would avenge her former wingmates from Divot Squadron, and if Venom thought she'd stop there? Well, they had another thing coming.

All right, Andross. The gloves are off.

000

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That's another one down. I'm surprised at how fast I knocked this chapter out, but I'm still hesitant to say you should expect quick updates. I want to do it right, not fast. Next chapter will probably be a shorter one, I'm not sure yet. What I am sure of, is that we'll be seeing more of Zach Palmer, very soon.

Am I forgetting something? I feel like I'm forgetting something, but I have no idea. Oh well, feel free to yell at me if I did.

...right; that's it! FUCK. THIS. BOSS. Least favorite boss in all of SF64. "Ohhh-huehuehuehuehue I'm no match for you XD!" I know I didn't give y'all a proper boss fight here. My reasoning? I hate this boss, so I made him… this horrible cringefest of a character. Also, I wanted to have Shapira come in and pimp-slap a major enemy. She and Palmer are turning into my two favorite personal OCs.

Okay, now that's everything. Peace!

Trivia

Yes, Krystal was indeed reading a book about Kathari history. For all you Whitefur fans out there (and the Great Furball himself), wink-wink hint-hint nudge-nudge.

The Numbani-class corvette looks very similar to the Blockade Runners from Star Wars (switch the colors for Cornerian regulation grey-and-blue paint). Just in case my horrible descriptive skills were insufficient.

CODEX

CSS Tyber: [CLASSIFIED] *Not really; I'm still working on the design. That's why I didn't describe it in the chapter.

Cornerian Federation Navy (CFN): While Venomian military forces prefer simple, reliable technology produced in large numbers, their Cornerian counterparts are more "gadget-oriented". The Federation Navy's ships are top of the line, full of cutting-edge equipment, and staffed by highly trained crews. The downside to this is that every ship destroyed and every crew killed are much more expensive to replace than their Venomian adversaries. With this in mind, CFN doctrine is built around coordinated operations, precision strikes and offensive battles. If a conflict is drawn out for too long, the Navy risks losing ships faster than it can replace them. Currently, there are 2,821 ships under the CFN's flag.

Numbani-Class Corvette: Corvettes are the lightest combat vessels in the Cornerian Navy. The Numbani-class is a newer model, faster and more maneuverable than its predecessors. Highly-trained crews of 100 personnel can make these ships positively dance in tight quarters; their maneuverability is unparalleled by heavier warships, allied and enemy alike. Classified next-gen armor designs and hull composition give enemy targeters a very hard time with locking in shots. The Numbani-class is lightly armed: twin Spearfish torpedo launchers are housed in the nose, while an ultraviolet laser array serves as a point defense system. The shortcomings in weapons and armor thickness are more than made up for by the ace up its sleeve. Numbani corvettes find their niche in larger battles thanks to their wide-spectrum ECM disruptors. These disruptors not only scramble targeting systems; they also throw enemy sensors and comms into complete disarray. Numbani corvettes' ECM generators are selective; they will only target non-allied craft in their area of effect. The Numbani-class is well suited to reconnaissance, intelligence and espionage. In naval engagements, they are often sent forward in groups to shield larger fleets from opening missile barrages.

Meteo: Meteo is a rare Class C asteroid field: its contents are dangerously close to each other and make navigation extremely difficult. The Meteo belt occupies much of the space around Corneria, which has resulted in the CDF using it as a natural defensive line. Many ships prefer to go over or under the belt, though a fleet that can sneak through the hazards can catch nearby planets and fleets off guard.