Star Fox: Regime – a fan fiction by Wolf Reynolds
"Star Fox" and all related characters and trademarks are © Nintendo, Inc.
Story ©2009 Wolf Reynolds

CHAPTER 11

Corneria City East Waterfront, Space Port District – Corneria City, Planet Corneria. (2036 hours, CCT).

Falco thought he might go insane. He had thought and hoped that he would be less noticeable hiding near the city's eastern waterfront, but his reputation and Slippy's artlessness made it very difficult for them to blend in. They'd had a few more run-ins with the Civil Guard, but Falco thought he might even welcome a chase or a simple firefight rather than continuing with the constant uncertainty. Falco knew they needed to get offworld as soon as possible; he didn't want to leave Peppy behind, but the grim realism was that Peppy was probably under closer guard than anyone on Corneria – getting him out with nothing but Slippy and his own wits was impossible. If he could make some contacts, he might be able to coordinate a rescue effort with an offworld retreat – all that junk in Sector Y might not be as useless as he thought. Unfortunately, they were stuck in a slummy motel overlooking a wharf in the Space Port District. Falco had some ideas, but none of them would get them out completely. He had one hole card that not even General Pepper knew about, and it was hidden right here at the waterfront – the Blue Marine. Fox had built the two-man submarine with Peppy and his dad; now Falco and Slippy were left, and they knew where it was and how to get to it. Unfortunately, it wouldn't do what they needed it to do; it would get them out of the city (assuming it was still running), but they would have nowhere to go from there, even if they lived aboard the sub for weeks.

Falco hadn't reminded Slippy of the Blue Marine yet; Falco wanted to make the decision on his own without pressure from Slippy. Slippy would have jumped on the idea as soon as Falco mentioned it, without thinking about the possible disadvantages. Falco made a list of those disadvantages in his mind: they'd have nowhere to go, they'd have a hard time getting back into the city if they had to, and there would only be enough supplies in the emergency kit to last for two weeks or so. The two main advantages were considerable, though: they would be completely out of the Civil Guard's reach, and they would have access to a coded subspace transmitter. They could use the Blue Marine to call for help, but there were no guarantees that anyone would respond. Falco sighed as he looked dolefully around the room, noticing the cracked wall plaster and the dark spots on the carpet. He took another bite of the undercooked ramen noodles he was eating. Anything had to be better than this dump. Better get used to it, Falco Lombardi, he thought glumly, You probably won't be rejoining civilization for awhile. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of Slippy's voice.

"Fox…" Slippy stood by the window and looked up into the cold, unfeeling sky. Poor Slippy. Every time they had a close call, they would just barely escape, and as soon as the adrenaline from the chase died down, he'd slip back into his mournful depression. Falco was able to channel all of his own depression into inward rage, usually directed at General Pepper. That rage fed his strength. Slippy, unfortunately, wasn't as strong. Falco felt bad for Slippy, but he would need his help to get them out of this, and he knew Slippy would be useless like this.

"C'mon, Slip," Falco said, "You can't think about it."

Slippy sniffled, "But Fox and Krystal are… Falco, don't you feel anything?"

Falco got up and walked over to where Slippy stood. "We have to control what we feel and stop dwelling on what's out of our hands."

Slippy broke down, tears streaming down his face. Great, Falco thought, his patience strained to its limit, Just what I need. "Come on, Slippy, knock it off," he said, "I'm not kidding." Slippy didn't stop; he threw back his head and just wailed. The sound abruptly stopped when Falco struck him across the face. "Cut it out!" Falco snapped, "Listen, Slippy, it's time to grow up. We've got problems of our own here. I need your help, and you're going to pull both of us down if you're a complete basket case. I don't have the time or energy to dry out a wet blanket. You've got to pull yourself together. Now I'll get us out of this, but I can't hold your hand the whole way."

Slippy just stood staring at Falco, lower lip trembling. Finally, he spoke tenuously. "What are we going to do?" he asked, "Do you have a way to get us out of here?"

Falco grunted. He hoped he wouldn't be forced into starting this now, but then he guessed this was as good a time as any. "I think so," he finally said with a tense smile, "I'm surprised you haven't thought of it by now, to be honest."

"Thought of what?" Slippy cocked his head to one side.

"The Blue Marine," Falco answered.

"I had thought of it," Slippy muttered dejectedly, "Do you think it's still there?" Slippy motioned towards the docks with his shoulder. "We haven't used that thing in years. I doubt it even still works. Besides, I doubt they would have just let it sit there after the coup."

"No one but us knows it's there, Slip," Falco reminded him, "I say it's worth a shot. I've been working it out, and we could get down there and out of the city by morning. Unless you'd rather stay here in this upholstered fleapit." Falco began to list the advantages to Slippy, reminding him that there was food aboard, that the emergency kit included tools to keep the sub in working order, and that there was a transmitter. He didn't sugar-coat the disadvantages, but Slippy seemed to have pulled himself back to rationality. After discussion and a good deal of planning, they finally decided to try for it.

The two of them gathered what little they had and made their way out to the street. Falco handed Slippy a wad of cash and gestured towards a nearby convenience store, where the lights were still on. "Listen," he said carefully, making sure Slippy would understand clearly, "I want you to go in there and get as much food and drink as that money will buy. Nonperishable would be best. If everything is as we left it, there should be enough food packs aboard to last two weeks, but I don't want to chance it. And that could buy us a few extra days, in any case. Try to be nonchalant. We don't want to attract any attention. You've still got a sat-phone?" Slippy nodded. "Don't use it unless you have to – unless someone unfriendly finds you. Otherwise you'll bring the whole Cornerian Army down on us. And don't call; just beep me. Meet me down at the dock as soon as you get finished. I'm going down there to make sure everything's there. If you get into trouble, beep me and I'll come and get you out."

"Falco?" Slippy began.

"What is it?"

Slippy hesitated for a few long moments, then said, "If you don't hear from me in fifteen minutes, leave without me."

Falco made a noise that was somewhere between a chuckle and a choking down of emotion then stared at Slippy for a long moment. Maybe the little twerp's not as hopeless as I thought. "Not gonna happen, Slip," he said at last, "We're leaving together or we're not leaving at all. Now get going. I don't want to stand out here in the street all night."

Slippy nodded as Falco rushed down the street towards the wharf. Falco spent the next few minutes (though he could have sworn it was hours) ducking and weaving his way through the darkened streets. He stopped every time he crossed an alley or dodged the glow of a streetlamp, checking in all directions for signs of movement. Keeping to the shadows, he wove his way across the grimy waterfront until he finally found himself standing on the quay itself. He looked down into the polluted water and tried to see the submarine; it would be parked under the dock itself, so as not to draw attention. He couldn't see it clearly, but the vague shape was visible enough for him to be certain that it was indeed the Blue Marine. He sat down on the pier; all he could do now was wait for Slippy.

After what the two of them had been through over the last two days, the wait was not nearly as agonizing as Falco had been expecting. Slippy appeared after only a few minutes with an armful of grocery bags. "Is it still down there, Falco?" he asked.

"It's down there, all right," Falco answered, "Between those pylons, just under the wharf. Please tell me you still have the remote access device."

"It was in my cabin on the Great Fox when…" Slippy looked down at his feet and set the bags on the concrete. "I'm sorry, Falco," he said sincerely, fumbling for the right words, "It's just I didn't see any sense carrying it around… you know, it's not like we've used it lately…"

"Forget it," Falco said, "It's nobody's fault." He looked down at the murky water. "Well," he said with a sigh, "Only one thing to do, then." Falco took off his shirt and carelessly tossed it in Slippy's direction. "Hold this," he said, "I'll have to bring it up myself. I just hope the hatch will still open." Falco took a deep breath and dove gracefully into the frigid seawater. The shock of the freezing water made him feel as though he had just run into a brick wall. This may well have been the greatest physical challenge he had ever faced. The cold of the water was difficult enough, but between the darkness and the pollution, Falco couldn't see anything. He was completely blind, relying solely on his tactile senses to find the Blue Marine's rear entry hatch – tactile senses that were numb from the freezing cold. He was thankful for his strong lungs; he could hold his breath for several minutes. Even longer than Fox could, in fact. The fleeting thought crossed Falco's mind that Slippy would have been better suited to this, but he dismissed that thought as soon as he tried to open the sealed hatch. Slippy just didn't have that kind of physical strength.

Falco's blood pounded in his head as he tried to force the lever down to open the hatch. It wouldn't budge. Falco tried again; still the lever didn't move. With one last push using every ounce of his strength, Falco finally managed to pry the lever down. He was prepared as the airlock opened and let out a blast of air. Falco swam into the airlock and shut the hatch behind him, his lungs screaming for respite. Falco knew he was committed at this point; he hoped the Blue Marine airlock system still functioned properly. If the purge cycle didn't get the water out soon…

Then the water began to recede. Falco gasped as the water level finally dropped low enough for him to breathe. He shook himself off and let himself drip dry for a few moments before he opened the inner door. He felt his way around the inky darkness until he found the ignition cycle button. He pressed it and held his breath, hoping against hope that the systems would come online. He heard the high-pitched whine of the generator and waited for it to turn over. Then the lights flickered on, piercing the blackness. Falco nearly leaped for joy as the whir of the main engines came to life. Now that the lights were on, Falco took a quick stock of the situation. The Blue Marine was by no means roomy, but it was livable, even if a little cozy. It was neatly sectioned into a passenger compartment and an operation area. Towards the front, there was a windshield which encompassed three sides and came down from the top. Two black leather seats sat side by side beneath the windshield, atop a slightly-raised deck area and surrounded by numerous control panels. Behind the "flight" deck was the living area; on the starboard side were two small bunks, one atop the other. To port were a lavatory and lockers, which contained their supplies. Falco checked; all of the food packs were still there, along with two old red jumpsuits.

Falco quickly changed into one of the dry suits and was hit by a wave of remorse when he found an old pair of Fox's sunglasses in one of the pockets. This had been Fox's. He didn't have time for this, though; Slippy would have heard the engines start, but he was waiting on the pier. And Falco knew Slippy might not have been the only one waiting. He quickly went forward and scanned the control panel for a few moments, looking for the right switches and levers. He had only piloted the Blue Marine once, and that had been some years ago. He managed, though. The submersible backed up slowly and rose gracefully above the surface of the sludgy water. To Falco's great relief, Slippy was still alone on the dock. He got up from his seat, opened the top hatch, and climbed out about halfway. And saw about six Civil Guard squad cars screaming towards the dock. "Time to go, Slippy!" he yelled, "We've got company!"

Slippy needed no second bidding. He grabbed the two bags of food and leaped aboard from the dock, miraculously managing to keep his footing on the slick metal. Two laser blasts whizzed over Slippy's head as he lunged for the hatch. Falco didn't hear what the police said over the bullhorn, but he had no intention of complying, whatever it was. As soon as the two of them were under, Falco slammed the hatch shut and made sure the gasket resealed. He rushed forward and took the seat on the port side. He brought the two laser cannons online and fervently hoped he wouldn't have to use them. "Slippy, you take the control surfaces. You know where everything is, right?" Slippy nodded as he sat down in the other seat. "Personally, I prefer the air," Falco muttered as he adjusted the holographic targeting reticle that appeared on the windshield. "Engines full reverse," he ordered. The dock began to pull back from view, slowly at first, then more quickly. Falco held his fire; because of their position, the Civil Guard was unable to bring any of its powerful weapons to bear.

As soon as they were clear of the pier, Falco checked one of the navigational readouts and gave a string of maneuvering orders. "All right, Slippy. Bring us to course zero-seven-five. Ahead full, and take us down to ten meters; we don't want to go too deep yet. You got all that?" Slippy answered with frenzied adjustments to the control panels. The dock disappeared completely from view as the craft turned around to face the breakwater and the open sea beyond. Then the Blue Marine stopped for a moment as Slippy threw the engines from reverse into ahead. The engines' whine grew louder, and the sub surged forward. Falco instinctively looked up as water swirled over the top of the windshield. They had escaped from the Civil Guard, but one final obstacle still stood between them and safety.

"All stop," Falco said as they drifted further from the dock and out into the harbor. Slippy complied, and the Blue Marine's forward motion ceased. The breakwater loomed in front of them like a fortress wall, its only gap blocked on the surface.

"What is it?" Slippy asked, "Why are we stopping?"

"That Coast Guard patrol boat is blocking the exit, in case you hadn't noticed," Falco answered.

"Why not just torpedo it?" Slippy looked at Falco quizzically.

"Too risky," Falco shook his head, "It's only blocking the surface right now. If we sink it, it'll block the gap. We'll be sealed in the harbor." Falco looked at his radar plot, then at the hull of the boat blocking their way, mentally gauging the distance between the bottom of the boat and the seabed. "We'll have to go under it."

"Do you think there's enough room?" Slippy asked skeptically.

"We're about to find out," Falco said, "Ahead full. Twenty degrees down angle on the diving planes."

"Right," Slippy said.

The Blue Marine lurched forward again, drawing ever closer to the sea floor as they approached the breakwater gap. Falco took a deep breath as they went through the gap. He was answered by the tooth-wrenching sound of scraping metal; the top of the sub was scraping against the hull of the patrol boat, but they weren't slowing, and the Blue Marine's systems were unaffected. At long last, the noise stopped, and the Blue Marine and its two anxious occupants were clear into the open sea. Safe at last, Falco thought. Safe at last. Now all we have to do is find a way out of here.