Author's Note: I told you I just needed to proofread this chapter before posting…hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters of "Storm Hawks", nor am I making any type of profit from this story. It is a work of fan fiction, for enjoyment only.

Chapter 9 - Only Good Guys Fight Fair

Stork hovered the Condor anxiously nearby, laying down cover fire in the rare instances that the opportunity presented itself. Most of the fighting was close quarters, though, and there was too much danger of hitting one of his teammates. The Merb gripped the wheel tighter as he watched one of the Talons get a lucky shot on Piper, causing her engine to billow smoke and the vehicle to dip alarmingly. He moved to intercept, only to back off again as she recovered her craft and gave him a reassuring wave. Sighing with relief, he checked the rest of the group.

Junko was taking the new Talons on in pairs, and winning. Stork winced as the Wallop smashed his activated knuckle-busters through an opponent's engine, then smiled as the Cyclonian plummeted groundward. "Crude, but effective," the Merb sniggered appreciatively.

Glancing back at Aerrow, he confirmed that the young Sky Knight was still holding his own against his much older and more experienced rival, so he sought for signs of their sharpshooter through the melee. Spotting a Talon in the clear, he got off a shot in passing, and was rewarded with a gratifying 'boom'.

Meanwhile Aerrow, now balanced on Dark Ace's wing, blocked a vicious downsweep from the Cyclonian, then responded with a lunge that scored Ace's midriff.

"Nice move - you've been practicing!" taunted the black-haired man, leaping back with a smirk. "But I have another pressing engagement…as do you!" With that, he twisted around to slam a button on the center of his ride's console.

Aerrow tensed, expecting to be catapulted off the wing or otherwise attacked, then preemptively leapt to his own nearby air skimmer. Instead, an explosion behind his back almost blew him from his seat. Turning, his eyes widened at the trail of black smoke billowing from the front of the Condor's left main engine. The ship was already beginning to lose altitude. Ace's triumphant laughter faded into the distance, unheeded, as Aerrow pulled a 180 and gunned his engine towards the falling craft. He hardly noticed as the remaining Cyclonians abandoned the fight and followed their leader in a hasty retreat.

Stork had just watched Finn take down another Cyclonian target when a blast ripped through the left wall of the bridge, peppering him with shrapnel. "What the…?" he exclaimed, automatically shielding his face from the larger fragments with one arm, while wrestling with the Condor's suddenly-unresponsive helm with the other. "Where'd that come from?!?"

With only the right main engine still working, the cruiser veered sharply left and began losing altitude, causing Stork to haul back on the controls with all his might. At the same time he tweaked the rear attitude thrusters with his prehensile toes to try and level the ship, all the while cursing the wind whipping through the hole in the hull as it blew random papers across his field of vision. "Come on, baby….hang in there…." His relationship with the craft had been the source of innumerable jokes, but at the moment he didn't care; his beloved was in danger, and he had to save her. The rocky terrain of Gnossus grew rapidly in the front windshield despite his best efforts, so Stork desperately searched for a potential landing site. Unfortunately, the ship was still over the inhospitable 'No Man's Land', where boulders and jagged crags were the rule, not the exception.

"Yessss……" he hissed as he spied a comparatively level area on the edge of the terra. Under optimal circumstances, setting down on the tiny patch of ground would require skill, precision, and luck; under the present conditions, it would need a miracle. "Gotta go for it," muttered the Merb, squinting his eyes in concentration. "No other choice…."

Stork backed off the right engine's throttle to even out the descent, relying on the more precise rear thrusters for actual steering. "Come on, hang together…..just a few more minutes….," he begged aloud.

For a moment it looked as if the Condor might actually make it. Aerrow sent up a silent 'thank you' to whatever gods watched over old warships and Merb pilots. Too soon, it seemed; when the ship was only a few hundred meters above the landing site, bomb-damaged wiring in the left engine short-circuited completely, setting off a chain reaction of small explosions that coalesced into one huge blast. The Sky Knight could only watch, aghast, as his home and his comrade plowed into the craggy stones below.

The force of the second shockwave blew Stork off his feet, slamming his head violently into the metal control panel to his right with a sickening thud. Yellow eyes closed involuntarily as the limp, green form slid to the decking. Released from the pilot's iron will, the Condor twisted and dove, impaling itself on the sharp rocks just beyond the intended landing site. The air was filled with the sound of screeching, tortured metal as it skidded along the unforgiving terrain. The cruiser finally ground to a halt against a particularly large boulder that passed between the two engine pods to impact the foredeck, caving it in completely. A plume of smoke slowly drifted up from the settling wreck.

Aerrow watched in stunned disbelief and pressed his skimmer's tortured engines for even more speed. Radarr whimpered and hunkered down in the sidecar, but otherwise voiced no complaint to the reckless velocity; he was worried, too. Sliding to a stop on the flat ground Stork had been aiming for, the Sky Knight was off his bike before it had even come to a complete halt and was pelting for the gaping blast hole in the side of the Condor, screaming, "Stork! Can you hear me? Stork!!!" He couldn't lose a member of his squad this way; not to sabotage…not to the Dark Ace!

Within moments he was inside, but stopped abruptly at the destruction in front of him, the pilot's name catching in his throat. Mangled metal where control panels used to be; Piper's strategy table on its side against the back wall; balcony balustrades poking through the shattered glass of the front windshield; Stork's helm a twisted pretzel of modern art - but the Merb wasn't immediately evident.

"Whoa…dude!" hissed Finn in a reverent whisper, slipping in behind him.

"Help me find Stork - he's got to be here somewhere!" Aerrow reached for the nearest pile of scrap and began to move it aside, searching for their missing team member.

"I'll try over here. The blast probably blew him this way," called Piper, trying to remain objective. Panic wouldn't help anyone, and minutes saved might mean Stork's life. "Junko, come help me." She clambered over debris towards the far right wall, the Wallop right behind her.

Finn randomly began excavating the back wall as Aerrow and Radarr concentrated on the debris around the helm. The five teens worked silently for several minutes, determined to find their friend.

"He's here!" cried Piper, uncovering a limp, green hand. Kneeling down, she released the breath she hadn't been aware of holding when a strong pulse bounded against her fingertips. "And he's alive…"

Aerrow swallowed convulsively as he made his way over to the specialist. "How can I help?"

Piper eyed the debris field critically; one wrong move and it could come down like a house of cards and crush their unconscious pilot. Coming to a decision, she pointed to a rather large, irregular chunk of metal. "That first. Move it very carefully."

Working together, the squadron slowly unburied their injured pilot. Despite Piper's earlier announcement, Aerrow found it disconcerting to see the Merb so motionless. Uniform ripped open along with the underlying skin, green blood welling beneath several of the lacerations, an ugly bruise forming over the right eyebrow…yet the slow rise and fall of the Merb's chest was the sweetest sight Aerrow had seen in weeks.

Finn was clearly impressed. "My skimmer is fastest; I'll head back to Central and get help."

"Yeah, sounds good," replied Aerrow absently, and within seconds the sharpshooter was gone.

Piper, never taking her eyes off the unmoving Merb, demanded, "Junko, the first aid kit should be in that locker against the far wall; get it for me. And Aerrow, go to the bathroom or the kitchen and bring back some water and some towels, quick as you can." Without checking to see if her directions were being followed, she methodically began checking Stork's injuries, muttering under her breath.

"No apparent broken arms or legs…neck seems stable…nasty bump on the head, but at least it's not bleeding…"

"Here's the kit!" cried Junko, rushing over with a large, metallic box cradled under his arm.

"And here's the water," announced Aerrow, huffing slightly. He set a large bucket next to Stork's head, then placed a pile of towels next to it. "Hope you don't mind - the bathroom was closest."

Piper graced him with a brief, worried smile. "No, it's perfect." She set about cleaning and bandaging the lacerations on the Merb's arms and legs, then unbuckled his belts and lifted his shirt to get at a particularly nasty cut on his chest.

"So? How is he?" asked their leader anxiously.

Piper wrung out a small cloth and laid it on Stork's forehead, over the bump, before sitting back on her heels with a sigh. "I'll be happier once a medic gets a look at him, but the worst of it seems to be the blow to his head. I can't find any broken bones, but he's gonna need some stitches…"

Just then the object of their concern moaned and began to move his head. "Owwww…..what happened?"

The five remaining Storm Hawks crowded around the supine form as the Merb raised a trembling hand to the cloth on his forehead.

"Take it easy, Stork. You've been in a crash." Aerrow, apparently over his shock, was all business. "Finn's gone for help."

Huge, golden eyes flickered open, then squinted in pain at the light streaming in the windows. "Right…there was an explosion…"

"The Cyclonians planted a bomb on the Condor," replied Aerrow grimly.

Stork looked confused. "How? None of their skimmers got anywhere close to my ship!"

Piper's mouth drew into a thin line. "No, it must have been when we were on the ground."

"But…the Condor was being guarded at all times…" the Merb stated, eyes darting between Aerrow and Piper.

A thundercloud covered the Sky Knight's face as he came to an unsettling conclusion. "…By the Gnossians."

"So, either they are terrible guards," began Junko, giving them the benefit of the doubt.

"Or there really is a traitor among them, just like we suspected," finished Aerrow with conviction.

Piper agreed, "It does explain how the Cyclonians keep getting away…"

Aerrow's fist slammed into his palm. "If it were someone with enough rank, they could even order the soldiers to search the wrong areas of the Terra!" Shooting Piper a narrow gaze, he continued, "My money's on Chukar…but we need proof."

"We'll get it," Piper determined.

Stork chose that moment to try and sit up and survey his surroundings. "The ship? How bad…?" he began, as Piper gently pushed him back down.

"Don't worry about the Condor; we'll get her fixed," she reassured him. "Right now, you just rest."

"Sounds good…" he murmured, his eyes sliding closed.

"Hey guys, I'm back! And I have a medic with me!" Finn clambered over the debris-filled deck, followed by an older man with a white coat carrying a medical bag. Without a word the stranger went straight to the prostrate figure on the ground and began his examination.

After a few minutes, he asked gently, "So, what's your name, young man?"

"Stork," groaned the Merb.

"And can you remember what happened?"

"I was watching my team fight…the raiders…when there was this explosion….I thought I could land the ship OK, but then there was a second blast that knocked me out…"

"And blew him halfway across the deck!" added Finn.

Glancing up at the teens, the physician asked, "How long was he unconscious?"

Aerrow did some quick calculations. "About twenty minutes," he hazarded, reassured by Piper's nodding agreement.

The medic looked back to his patient. "I'd like to take him to the hospital in Central City and run some more tests, then keep him overnight for observation. Besides, he's got quite a few lacerations that need stitches…"

"Just tell us what to do."

The next hour went by in odd flashes of memory for the helmsman: Piper's gentle hands placing and replacing a cool compress on his forehead; careful rolling onto a makeshift stretcher that was then slung between Junko and Finn's skimmers; being snugly bundled against the wind for the ride into Central; poking, prodding, and scans at the hospital; the sting of the needle over and over as his cuts were numbed and expertly repaired; and finally the blessed oblivion of a quiet bed in a private room.

TBC…

AN: There's just something about Stork…don't you think?