AUTHOR'S NOTE: This was originally part of a much bigger chapter, but it got too big. So I cut this section out since it detracted from the pacing, and thought it could stand on it's own to set up the third act of our story, and to give you something short to enjoy as I finish off the next chapter. While you're waiting, why not leave a review? I'm so glad the Director is back in the story. I think you will be too. -TU
-For Your Eyes Only-
She had watched the bombardment from the comfort of her cabin on the Jeremiad, lounging in an armchair upholstered in the finest Zonessian sealskin and washing down a meal of soft-boiled quail's eggs over fried rice with a glass of sparkling honey wine from the Cornerian megacity of Oceana. The dinner was exquisite, and so was the show. With the green and white globe of Fortuna framed in her cabin's floor-to-ceiling viewport, watching the blue pulse lasers of the Cornerian Commonwealth Ship Jeremiad cut into the Kongis jungle far below felt like watching a cake being cut, to celebrate the success of one of her most ambitious plans ever.
Now, the world framed in Gillian Morrow's viewport was not green, but the cobalt blue of Zoness, speckled with brown smudges made by the hundreds of thousands of islands and archipelagos scattered about the oceans of the tropical world. And yet she still could not suppress the urge to smile.
The she-wolf allowed herself a few more moments to look down on the world before the smooth grey form of a Sphyrna-class corvette glided past like a shark with mounted laser cannons, spoiling the view. Morrow uncrossed her legs and got out of her chair, smoothing the folds in her black pantsuit and the collarless red blouse she'd been wearing for more than a day on the ship. If the ship's chronometer was to be believed, she'd been awake for more than twenty-eight hours, but there wasn't a hint of fatigue in her golden eyes, and her mind felt fresh as if she'd just woken up. Victory had a way of energizing Gillian Morrow.
She crossed the floor of the plain white cabin and leaned into the refresher, checking the mirror to make sure the thick mane of snow white fur on the back of her head was combed properly and that the rest of her coat was presentable, then moved to the box on her desk and took out a thick golden necklace with a small ruby at the center, fastening it around her neck. Satisfied with her appearance, she picked up a datapad off her desk and ran thin fingers through her hair as she moved to the center of the room, her black high heels tapping into the polished floor and her white tail twitching behind her. The only person Gillian Morrow answered to was supposed to be the most powerful male in Lylat, and she preferred to look perfect for him. He was much easier to convince when she did.
"Viewport, opaque," Morrow directed aloud, and the view of Zoness was replaced by a wall of flat grey as she looked into the datapad cradled in her arm, dialing a series of numbers on the touch-sensitive screen and waiting as the holoprojectors in the ceiling activated. She breathed confidently and stood up proud and straight as the sound system clicked and the glowing blue words Establishing Transmission… appeared in the air in front of her. It took even longer than a standard holo-transmission to broadcast, the signal needed to be scrambled through two of the most powerful encryption codes ever written before being beamed across billions of kilometers through space using secret comm.-buoys and then decrypted on the other side. Also, given that it was after midnight in Corneria City, her contact would likely be slow to respond. Her call was expected, but nonetheless Robert Fitzroy could occasionally be…distracted at such a late hour.
The words flickered away, and the holoprojector casted the image of an attractive male Labrador with a pale golden coat, wearing a pair of midnight blue silk pajamas under a dark grey robe with the crest of the Cornerian Commonwealth sewn on the breast: a green six-pointed star over a golden globe, encircled by a large letter C formed from beams of light radiating out from it.
The fur between Robert Fitzroy's floppy ears was mussed up, and he was rubbing something off of his cheek with a manicured paw. His hologram flickered for a moment or two as he straightened his hair and adjusted his stance, then he looked around and chuckled for a moment, shaking his head.
"Hey, Gillian," Fitzroy greeted with his signature million-Liat smile, "Thought you'd be calling a bit later, I was…sort of preoccupied."
"Your Grace," Morrow returned, bowing her head lightly. No matter how many times he'd asked her to call him Robert in private, it had always felt uncomfortable coming out of her lips, as if it put into words how close their working relationship could sometimes be. She was his spymaster, it was her job to play the monster so that he didn't have to. She was not his friend. Robert Fitzroy trusted her. Gillian Morrow had long ago learned the folly in trusting anyone.
"Is this what I think it is?" the Prime Minister of the Cornerian Commonwealth inquired.
"I'm calling to update you on the progress of Operation Swordfish," Morrow answered calmly, blinking her golden eyes.
"I thought so," Fitzroy nodded, looking off to the side, "Do you mind waiting for a second? I want to bring someone else in on this, plus I'm feeling like a late-night snack."
"Your time is more important than mine, Your Grace."
"Good. Good, just hold on a moment," the Prime Minister said, his ghostly image disappearing. His hologram returned a few seconds later, holding a datapad in one hand and a slice of flaky pastry oozing brown gravy on a plate in the other, and he sat down in a blue plush swivel chair somewhere and scooted it comically into his holoprojector's scanner range.
"Ahh. Steak and gravy pie. Just like mom used to make. You know my favorite part about living in the Palace of Churchill? I can put a conservator in every room if I want to," Fitzroy smiled, sitting down.
"Bobby? Bobby, I can't find my shoes…" a female voice came in faintly over the sound system.
Fitzroy rolled his eyes and looked over his shoulder to what must've been an open door in the room he was actually sitting in, calling back, "Try under the bed, Victoria."
"They're not there."
"Find them when you come back. The money's in a credit chip on the nightstand. Meet Jeff in the hall and he'll call you a cab."
"Bobby, they're expensive shoes!"
For once, the handsome canine looked angry.
"Oh, I'm sure they're expensive on a bang-tail's salary," Fitzroy remarked nastily.
"I'm not a bang-tail, I'm an escort!"
"You could've fooled me. You can have shoes when you come back, just get out of here," the Prime Minister dismissed with irritation.
"When will that be?"
"Never if you don't leave! I'm working," Fitzroy snapped.
"Yes, Bobby," the female voice returned quietly.
"Sweet Lyla," Fitzroy grumbled, running a hand over his face as he settled back into his chair and took a bite of his steak and gravy pie.
The whole time, Gillian Morrow had only politely glanced away and recalled why she recorded every conversation she held with someone of power. Robert Fitzroy was still unmarried, but his pristine reputation would quickly fade if his proclivity for such visitors was made public knowledge. She filed it in the arsenal of blackmail that she kept, just in case the situation called for it.
"Sorry about that, Gillian," the Labrador sighed, settling into his chair and dialing in a number on his datapad, "I'm pulling in someone else on this conference of ours…it's just before lunchtime in Anaxes, excellent."
"Your Grace, this information is really for your eyes only," Morrow informed him, the tone in her thick voice sharpening the impact of her words.
"And his as well. Are you familiar with Field Marshal Ramsey Bolton?" Fitzroy prompted, resting his datapad on his chair's armrest.
"I can't say I am," Morrow replied coolly.
"He's at the top of my list to replace Peppy Hare as General of the Armed Forces. We can't keep George Pepper holding the fort forever; he's practically one foot in the ground as it is. Here we are," Fitzroy smiled as the holoprojectors drew another figure in front of her. This one was a tall middle aged ram in a green Cornerian Army officer's uniform, with amber-colored eyes and a twisted goatee trailing down from his chin. He sat in a black office chair with his arms crossed over his chest, resting his curving horns against the back of the chair and glancing at her indifferently as he greeted the Prime Minister.
"Marshal Bolton, thank you for joining us. This is Director Gillian Morrow of the CSB," Fitzroy introduced.
"Director Morrow," the ram regarded in a gravelly voice with a nod of his head.
"Marshal," the CSB chief returned.
"Gillian, perhaps you can brief the Marshal and give him some background before giving us both your update on the situation," the Prime Minister instructed as he took another bite of pie.
"Of course, Your Grace," Morrow sniffed, concealing her irritation and calling up a selection of files on her datapad, programming them to be displayed on the currently opaque viewport and transmitted to the Prime Minister and Field Marshal as well. She cleared her throat and began.
"This briefing concerns ComSec Special Op 33965, codenamed Swordfish. I am personally overseeing this black-bag operation, which is level four classified, thus this program officially does not exist, nor will it ever exist. It is imperative, Marshal, that you are the only one that hears this information," Morrow instructed softly, so he'd have to actually pay attention to hear.
"I have top-secret clearance, Director Morrow, I know what to do," Bolton replied gruffly.
"It's not you that I'm so concerned about, Marshal. You'd be amazed the variety of ways for someone to eavesdrop and watch you without your knowledge," Morrow rebutted with a cold narrowing of her golden eyes.
Field Marshal Bolton shifted uncomfortably in his seat, furrowing his brow at her and saying nothing.
"Gillian, please continue," Fitzroy sighed, "I'm sure the Marshal's office in the Citadel isn't being monitored."
Morrow never once considered bringing up the fact that she'd had several offices in the Citadel bugged and wired by the CSB for years, including the office used by both Peppy Hare and George Pepper at one time or another. Instead, she merely continued, pressing an icon on her datapad.
On the opaque viewport appeared the image of a large-framed, middle-aged tiger with long, curling whiskers and a grizzled lump of white fur on his chin. The meaty Fortunan feline was wearing a white shirt and a thick red tie under a brown double-breasted suit heavy with medals pinned to the lapel, and he appeared to be waving to a large crowd in the image.
"Josef Pedrano," Gillian Morrow explained, "Premier of the Planetary Republic of Fortuna, and head of the Fortunan government for the past five years."
"Is this the architect of their decision to harbor what was left of the Venomian military?" Bolton interrupted.
"No, that was his predecessor. He's the one who turned a blind eye when Andrew Oikonny was building a fleet to attack Corneria. And he's been high up in the Fortunan government since before the Lylat War," Morrow answered, "Now he's in charge, and pledging to the rest of the government that he can end the Fortunan civil war. He's actively been assisting the Venomian Remnant with whatever they need to continue fighting rebel groups all over the planet. Not to mention committing numerous crimes against his own people in the name of rooting out the anarchists and rebels bringing down the government."
"So what's the CSB's concern with him?" Bolton inquired.
"He's running out of money and weapons," Morrow replied, "It's costing him too much to win the civil war. So he's looking to give Fortuna new opportunities for investment, mainly by expanding the planet's small starship construction industry to rival Corneria and Macbeth's. The issue is that Fortuna lacks colony worlds from which to gain the required resources, and Fortuna is not known for an abundance of shipbuilding ore, at least in easy access. Surveying and mining in the jungles would be prohibitively expensive, since the trees regenerate so quickly and most of the rebel factions are based in one region of jungle or another. Other areas of Fortuna with the confirmed deposits necessary to support heavy shipbuilding are regions that shift between rebel and government control on a monthly basis. There is only one secure region of Fortuna that has these resources confirmed and surveyed."
Morrow pressed an icon on her datapad, and Josef Pedrano's image was replaced by an image of a long stretch of coastline, dotted with large industrial facilities built both on the ground and on stilts rising out of the water. Further off the coast, a deep underwater canyon was highlighted in bright green.
"The Lasko Coast, on the northeastern seaboard of Fortuna's main continent, and the nearby Targaryan oceanic trench, contains one of the richest deposits of lommite and orichalcum ore discovered in the past two decades, and is almost as rich in palladium and other platinum group metals as the Platinum Basin of Papetoon," Morrow explained as Bolton's hologram nodded pensively and Robert Fitzroy continued to eat his pie, "The concentration of resources in the Lasko Coast is larger than any remaining ore deposits on Corneria, and it rivals the size of average Macbeth ore deposits. The platinum group metals can be made into electronic starship components, the palladium being especially vital in the manufacture of atmosphere recycling units, while lommite can be refined into durasteel, transparisteel and adamantine armor plating. The orichalcum, mined in the deepest parts of the Targaryan Trench, is essential in nearly every component of a modern warp drive, and it is also used in generating deflector shields and containment fields for reactor core fusion chambers. In short, the Lasko Coast contains in abundance every resource that Josef Pedrano would need to jump-start a Fortunan starship industry.
"The only problem is that the Lasko Coast has been leased from the Fortunan government for the past eighteen years. The mining rights for the coast and the trench are controlled by the Lasko Resource Development Corporation, a company owned by investors from Corneria and Aquas. Currently, the LRDC supplies ten percent of the raw materials used in the shipyards of Aquas and almost thirty percent of the materials used in orbital shipyards in Cornerian space. It represents the largest source of starship construction materials from outside the Commonwealth. It is at this point that things began happening to require the attention of the Commonwealth Security Bureau."
Morrow stopped and cleared her throat for a moment, mulling over whether or not to get the bottle of sparkling honey wine from the conservator and pour herself another glass. Looking at the holograms of the males in front of her, both of them sitting, one of them eating pie, she decided against it. Better to stand as they sat, talk as they ate. Out of the three of them, she was the one in control here.
"Approximately seven months ago, the CSB received word from a source inside the Fortunan government that Pedrano was planning to invalidate LRDC's lease and revoke their mining rights on the Lasko Coast. At first, we did not take it seriously, until a month later the Pedrano government issued an order to Lasko Resource Development's headquarters, instructing them to cease all mining efforts within three months, cease all off-world ore shipments in six, and begin the process of turning over all of the mining, processing and refinery facilities servicing coast to the government. All of this was ordered to be completed by no later than a year from when the order was issued," Morrow informed them.
Bolton's brow furrowed, while Fitzroy took the last bite of steak and gravy pie and set the plate down on a desk out of view of the holoprojector scanner.
"They're nationalizing the Lasko Coast?" Bolton clarified, drumming his fingers on his arm in thought.
"Precisely," Morrow answered, "Their plan is to build their new starship industry by taking resources legally owned by a Commonwealth corporation. Resources which are vital to the continued success of the Commonwealth's own starship industry."
"Inform the Field Marshal what the loss of the Lasko Coast would mean for us, Gillian," Fitzroy said, slowly scratching behind one of his ears.
"Loss of the Lasko Coast would affect the shipbuilding industries of two Commonwealth worlds, especially that of Corneria. We would need to depend more on asteroid mining in Meteo, which is inconsistent, unpredictable and vulnerable to piracy, or import the materials from Macbeth at heavy premium. The scarcity of shipbuilding ore it would create would further drive up prices and negatively affect the stocks of hundreds of Commonwealth businesses across multiple industries. The competition of a strong Fortunan shipbuilding industry would cut down the profits of starship manufacturers for both Macbeth and the Commonwealth. The projected effect would be the beginnings of an economic recession across the entire Commonwealth and a crippling of our starship industry. This being a year after the Aparoid Invasion, from which we have yet to fully recover, the results could be even worse. Such a situation would even further slow the reconstruction of the Cornerian Starfleet," Morrow explained.
"Voters don't like it when they lose their jobs. Admirals don't like it when they can't get ships. And Macbeth doesn't want competition any more than we do in times like these, especially from Fortuna. Obviously, it's a situation that can't be left in the hands of the Fortunan people, or at least their government," Fitzroy smiled.
Morrow allowed herself a slight smirk as she gazed at the hologram of the attractive young politician. In public, Robert Fitzroy was all smiles and glamor and boy-next-door values. But he'd quickly realized that no one gets re-elected by being nice. Sometimes, bad things needed to be done in order to give the people what they wanted, and Robert Fitzroy liked being the golden boy too much to soil himself with bad things. Rather than using the loud, blunt, public instrument that the Cornerian Army and Defense Force presented, he preferred to have the dirty work done quietly, in the shadows, by someone else. Thus, he continued to give Gillian Morrow more and more leeway, so much that most of the time he didn't even want to hear about the things she'd done in the name of justice, security, and Corneria's best interests.
"Preventing the nationalization of the Lasko Coast and its effect on the Commonwealth's economy is the ultimate goal of Swordfish, which was approved by the Prime Minister soon after the Pedrano government issued their order to LRDC. Our first attempts involved using operatives within the Fortunan Presidium and military to cancel the order, but it quickly became clear that Pedrano has made the nationalization of the coast a primary goal. Our approach changed to doing whatever we could to indirectly turn the tide of the Fortunan civil war in favor of the rebels," Morrow explained, "We have supplied various factions with weapons, light combat vehicles, supplies, armor, and training. As much assistance as we gave to the rebels, it did not change the circumstances that are winning the civil war for the government: the two-pronged warfare approach of using Fortuna's conventional military to fight the rebels directly and using the guerilla warfare of the Venomian Remnant, led by former General Maximilian Zaius, to fight the rebels in their jungle hideaways. It has become clear that neutralizing the Remnant is necessary to give the rebels a tactical advantage over the Pedrano government."
"So what's the problem with wiping them out? They're our old enemies and they're helping our new enemies. Seems like a pretty simple matter to just go in there and liquidate them," Bolton prompted, leaning back in his chair.
"Despite our efforts, we've never been able to get an operative into Zaius' Remnant camp. He runs the place like a cult and his soldiers worship and fear him like a god. The rebels have never been able to find and organize an attack on the camp themselves, at least an effective one, before the Remnants relocate. We could wipe them out using an orbital bombardment, but we couldn't be sure that we killed Zaius himself. And the Fortunan government would likely take issue with a Commonwealth ship firing on their soil. Further complicating the matter is this," Morrow explained, pressing another icon on her datapad.
The image of the Lasko Coast disappeared, replaced by the long, red form of a Venomian warship. Gillian Morrow had been looking at images of the Xerxes for so long that she could've drawn it from memory.
"The VNS Xerxes, a prototype flagship that disappeared during the Battle of Venom with a portion of the Venomian treasury and an experimental weapon that can generate an artificial black hole. The ship itself is heavily shielded, heavily armored for a capitol ship of its size, and possesses the fastest warp drive engine ever invented. It can reach warp factors twice as high as the Commonwealth's fastest ships, and it was built to wage a hit-and-run campaign in the event that Venom lost the war," Morrow lectured, "If Andrew Oikonny had control of this ship during the Oikonny Rebellion, he likely would've destroyed the Commonwealth fleet sent to stop him, as well as Team StarFox, and could've continued on to Corneria as the Aparoids invaded. To prevent Oikonny from getting the ship, Zaius abandoned the Xerxes and programmed it to warp randomly through the corridor between Sectors X and Z. If any ship should happen to come in range, the ship will automatically warp away.
"The only way to deactivate this feature and establish control of the ship is through the use of two copy-proof holodiscs, which give the user the stellar coordinates of the ship as well as the ability to board it. This ship is the reason that we couldn't risk a more direct way of liquidating the Remnant. If, by chance, Zaius survived, or someone else got possession of the discs, they would have the perfect ship to terrorize all of Lylat with, and enough money to fund a sizeable army. The immediate objective of Swordfish has been to find a way to neutralize the Xerxes, allowing us to liquidate the Remnant without risk of reprisals, which should enable the rebels to gain ground and destabilize the Pedrano government before it can nationalize our resources on the Lasko Coast. A possible secondary objective has been to gain control of the Xerxes, so that its technological innovations can be studied and used by the Commonwealth."
"And how is the CSB planning to catch this uncatchable ship?" Bolton inquired.
Morrow exhaled through her nose and cleared her throat once again, shifting her stance. It was starting to feel uncomfortable standing this long in high heels.
"We've been working on that for the past few months. There didn't seem to be an easy way to get a hold of the discs, and we didn't know if both discs were in Zaius' camp on Fortuna or stored somewhere else for safekeeping. By next week, one of the deadlines set by the Pedrano government will pass and off-world shipments of ore from the Lasko Coast will stop. We were beginning to get desperate, when approximately three weeks ago the CSB was approached with an opportunity," Morrow explained, "An individual identifying itself as Kursed, a vigilante linked to acts of violence against cartel groups on Macbeth, Zoness and Corneria, contacted us and claimed to have independently arranged for the discs to be surrendered. Kursed claimed that the first disc was in the possession of Dash Bowman, Andross' grandson and head of the Ape Liberation Front headquartered in Apollo, and he would turn over the disc in exchange for the ALF's removal from the CSB terrorism watch list. Kursed claimed that the second disc was in Zaius' possession at his Remnant camp, and that he would surrender the disc if offered a pardon for all crimes against the Commonwealth, signed by His Grace the Prime Minister."
Bolton's hologram looked over to Robert Fitzroy's image, leaning forward in his chair and uncrossing his arms.
"That's all they wanted? There's a surprise," Bolton muttered.
"It's not what they got," Fitzroy chuckled, "We erased all record of the pardon for Zaius the moment I signed it. The orangutan signed a meaningless file."
"Kursed left additional instructions," Morrow continued, "That, rather than using a team of CSB operatives to make the exchanges and escort her, we hire the privateer group Team StarFox."
"I didn't like that part at first," Fitzroy remarked, "Freelancers, even StarFox, are unpredictable, especially when you want something done quietly. It's hard to forget the scandal they caused when James McCloud was captured on Venom doing secret missions for George Pepper. A bunch of people lost their jobs because of that."
"It was determined that it was the most appropriate course of action, the time constraints left us little option but to use the opportunity Kursed presented us. Using StarFox also allowed the CSB and the Commonwealth's government to have plausible deniability in case they failed. The chances were high, since the rendezvous between Kursed and StarFox was leaked to every assassin and mercenary wanting to claim the ship or the price on Kursed's head. So we went ahead with the operation, and despite setbacks, I am pleased to report that the immediate objective of Swordfish has been achieved," Morrow informed the holograms.
"Now we're at the point that I was up to," Fitzroy remarked, "Let's hear what's been happening down on Fortuna, Gillian."
"Of course, Your Grace," Morrow replied, shifting her position as her white tail swiped through the air, "Approximately thirty-four hours ago, Team StarFox reported to be in possession of the first disc, that they had rendezvoused with Kursed and were on their way to Fortuna. Special Agent Rupert Frost instructed Commander Fox McCloud to send a confidential message to alert us when they had reached the camp. Using monitoring devices installed on the StarFox mothership while she was docked at the CCS James McCloud's commissioning ceremony, we were able to trace the location of Commander McCloud's team in the Fortunan jungle when he sent us this alert at approximately 2200 hours yesterday, Cornerian Standard Time. We then sent the location of the Remnant camp to several rebel factions in the Kongis Jungle that the CSB has contacts with, instructing them all to attack the camp at the earliest possible time. It was our thought that by the time the rebels attacked the Remnant, the disc exchange would be completed and StarFox would be on their way to securing the Xerxes for us. We did not anticipate how quickly the rebels would act."
"This doesn't sound like a happy story," Fitzroy commented with a chuckle.
Morrow smiled as if to humor her boss, then she continued.
"One rebel faction quickly organized a large contingent of troops and light assault skimmers to attack the Remnant camp immediately, converging on the camp at approximately 22:45 yesterday. The attack began while Commander McCloud's team was still in the camp, with both discs possibly being in play. The probability of the discs falling out of StarFox's possession and into the hands of another party was high. To further complicate matters, at approximately 23:25, a close-support craft from a separate rebel faction carried out an air-strike on the Remnant camp using neypol supplied by the CSB," Morrow briefed, breathing in as she reached the most delicate part, "Monitoring the situation from the CCS Jeremiad, I made the decision that such a disorganized rebel attack, while sure to cause wide destruction, also left opportunities for a prepared force to evacuate, as well as the possibility that Remnant forces in the camp's buildings or in underground tunnels surrounding the camp might survive. If StarFox lost the discs during the attack, any Remnant survivors could gain control of the discs and thus the Xerxes, and with it threaten the Commonwealth. I was not willing to allow such a risk. At 23:40, I commanded the Jeremiad to jump alone into orbit over Fortuna and commence a concentrated orbital bombardment on the areas of the Remnant camp and the surrounding jungle, to completely sterilize the area of any survivors that might've remained."
Bolton's amber eyes swelled with surprise, and Robert Fitzroy leaned forward in his chair with a frown.
"You bombarded a world we were at peace with, without my consent? Without even asking me, Gillian?" Fitzroy demanded, his voice rising with disbelief.
"There were exigent circumstances that required an immediate response, Your Grace," Morrow replied coolly, "The situation required that I act or risk a terrible threat being posed to the safety of our Commonwealth. I chose to act. The Jeremiad's bombardment was confined to the area of the Remnant camp and the surrounding jungle, the only casualties were rebels and Remnants."
Fitzroy sighed, then looked off for a moment.
"At least tell me you weren't detected," he groaned.
"At approximately ten minutes past zero hour, I ordered the bombardment to cease when we determined that all of the structures in the camp had been destroyed and all life in the area had been neutralized. I am confident that Zaius and all leadership of the Venomian Remnant were killed in either the attack, the air strike or the Jeremiad's bombardment," Morrow answered, "At twelve minutes past zero hour, the Jeremiad warped away from Fortuna and rejoined the rest of the CSB Enforcement Fleet in Zoness space. During our time in orbit, there were no attempts by planetary authorities to hail or intercept us, and we spent less than thirty five minutes in Fortunan space. The Jeremiad's electronic countermeasures prevented us from being detected by long-range scans, and in the confusion of the rebel attack and the air strike on the camp itself, it is likely that the bombardment will be mistaken for another rebel faction attacking the camp. If it is not, the Jeremiad left no trace aside from the damage done to the jungle."
Robert Fitzroy looked relieved, and the frown slowly faded from his muzzle.
"What about Team StarFox and the discs? Did they make it out?" the Prime Minister asked.
Gillian Morrow nodded.
"Our monitoring devices gave us enough intel to conclude that the StarFox Team survived the attack and successfully reached orbit with the discs in their possession. If they follow the parameters of their contract, they will proceed to the Xerxes and secure the ship for our custody," the she-wolf answered.
"Forgive me for what might seem a naïve question, but I'm new to hearing about this," Bolton growled, "We're arranging for a lot of people to get killed here. Not just our enemies in the Venomian Remnant, but all of the people that the rebels are going to kill with the weapons we're giving them. And the people caught in the crossfire between the rebels and the Fortunan government."
"The Venomian Remnant has committed several atrocities, both on Fortuna and in the Lylat System at large when they were members of the Venomian Army. No one will mourn their deaths, nor would anyone blame us for lying about pardoning them," Morrow remarked frigidly, her golden eyes narrowing down on the ram's hologram.
"I agree," Bolton said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "But what are we doing all this for in the end? A ship? To make sure that we can carve minerals out of Fortuna's crust to turn a profit instead of them? It may hurt the economy not to do so, but the Commonwealth was founded on principles of letting each world determine its own destiny. Just a thought."
Robert Fitzroy began to frown again, while Gillian Morrow's yellow eyes looked down on the Field Marshal like he was an insect, her nose wrinkling like she'd smelled something offensive.
"The Commonwealth may have been founded on those principles, but my job is to act in the Commonwealth's interest, which rarely aligns with its principles. Principle is fine up to a certain point, but principle is meaningless if you lose. Principles will not keep Corneria's struggling starship industry afloat, nor will they replace the starfleet ships destroyed by the Aparoids. Those resources will. I am not a wolf of principle, Marshal Bolton; I am a wolf of action. If His Grace does name you General of the Armed Forces, I would hope that you are a ram of the same stock," Gillian Morrow replied icily.
Field Marshal Bolton only chuckled, then waved a hand dismissively as Robert Fitzroy shifted uncomfortably in his chair.
"I think that's all for now, Gillian," Fitzroy nodded, sitting up in his chair, "Thanks for sitting in on this, Bolton, you should hear from me soon."
The ram nodded, then his hologram winked away.
"Remember to keep me updated on Swordfish," the Labrador instructed, "Tell me what happens with that ship. Now that the Remnant's been neutralized, I want an evaluation in a month on the progress of the war. See if you can get the Fortunans to back down from seizing the coast now that their boogeymen are gone."
"As you wish, Your Grace," Morrow nodded.
"And don't ever do something like bombing a planet without my order again, Gillian," he warned sternly. It was very hard to think of the handsome, gentle canine as even remotely threatening, but she humored him anyway.
"Of course, Your Grace," she replied, wondering if he would notice that she hadn't apologized.
Apparently he didn't, and the Prime Minister of the Cornerian Commonwealth bid her good night as his hologram disappeared and the transmission ended.
She allowed herself a small smile as she walked slowly across the room and commanded the viewport to become transparent, watching the grey slowly replaced by the view of tropical Zoness far below. It was all coming together, just as she'd engineered. StarFox, Kursed, even the Prime Minister, she was using them all in her own way to get exactly what she wanted.
As valuable as the Xerxes might be to the Commonwealth, it would be Gillian Morrow and the CSB reaping the benefits of the elusive ship. The powerful warp drives of the Venomian battleship would be reverse-engineered for the exclusive use of the CSB Enforcement Fleet, putting her in control of the fastest ships in the Lylat System. The super-weapon that could create an artificial black hole would be hers to research and possess. But it was the treasury, the 217 billion Liat that she had the biggest plans for. She was willing to part with half of the Xerxes' plunder in order to buy StarFox's silence. The other half would be mysteriously lost, only to end up in anonymous CSB slush funds for her private use. She would use the money to fund the election campaigns of any politician and Prime Minister that the Commonwealth could produce, while her vast spy network gathered enough blackmail to ruin the careers of those she wanted ruined and control those that she didn't. All the while, they would continue to expand the CSB's power, with her at command until her death.
A subordinate had once jokingly accused her of wanting to be Prime Minister someday.
Before she'd sent him to man a run-down safe house in the desert of Papetoon, she'd responded: "Prime Minister? Do you know how much power I'd have to give up to be Prime Minister?"
The Prime Minister only acted on what he knew, and he only knew what she allowed him to. But there were so many things he didn't know, and didn't want to know. If knowledge was power, then Gillian Morrow was a goddess among mortals.
And after StarFox delivered the Xerxes to her, she always would be.
She allowed her smile to deepen before she turned and began to walk towards the conservator, her high heels clicking on the polished white floor. She would reward herself with another glass of that honey wine after all.
A tapping on the door to her cabin stopped the she-wolf in her tracks.
"Come," she instructed, her golden eyes on the door.
The door slid open, and a middle-aged badger in a suit leaned through the doorway.
"Director Morrow, I'm getting a transmission from Fox McCloud," Rupert Frost informed her, "What should I tell him?"
Gillian Morrow replied in a cool, husky voice, "Only what he needs to know."