~
Inundation
~
"Icepick Green, you're all the air assets we have available in this sector, reinforcements should arrive in fifteen minutes, but we can't guarantee anything! Be careful and watch the ROE, good luck!"
"Understood Command," Fox said, pressing against the side of his headset to ensure he was hearing the other end correctly. "We're moving in to assess the situation and…" The vulpine paused as a minor glance at his air-to-ground radar receiver revealed the true degree of the situation below. "Holy- Command, don't worry about it, we're on the job!"
"What's going on down there?" Dash questioned, his eyes widening at the sudden spectacle.
"It looks like they're amassing at the city's edge…" Katt noted, watching the massive cluster of targets gather on her screen. "You can't even tell what's civilian and what's military, they've got everything mixed in."
"That might be the point." Fox added. "Keep an eye out and feel free to take out any armed vehicles you see but be careful to not hit anything outside of the mission boundaries." The vulpine guided the rest of the trio to a lower altitude, until the amassing convoy below them was now visible through the soft obfuscation of the pervasive Fortunan rain. The bulk of the convoy stood just outside the main boundary of the city, between it and the jungle to their west lay a relatively clear plain about 10 kilometers across. If they managed to reach the jungle, it would undoubtedly make chasing them an extremely difficult task.
"Hey Katt, isn't this place the city we just went to? The one where there wasn't anything to do?" Dash wondered.
"You know, I think it is. Yeah, it looks just like it!" Katt's eyes raced across the small city's skyline, recalling the short and uneventful time they spent while on their break. "How could something like this happen? The city was completely safe while we were there, where did all these people come from?"
Fox groaned, partially because he felt the conversation was drifting too far from the present situation and partially because of the sudden gnawing feeling from within his abdomen. "Doesn't matter now, let's get back to the mission. Katt, I'm going to need you to split off to the right and take care of any-" His voice was once more interrupted by the surprising sight of another series of blip appearing on his radar, this one coming from his distant left, away from the city.
What the hell was going on? The object in the receiver was now forming a clearer image. This thing was big, stupidly big. The main structure was seemingly comprised of a lengthy rectangular shape, larger in size that any conventional supertank, instead comparable in magnitude to a Cornerian destroyer. Furthermore, it looked like it was being escorted by its own attachment of air units, piloted ones too, not the stupid drones that you might see occasionally hovering around as support units.
"Uh, hold on, you guys seeing this? Tell me I'm not the only one…" The vulpine's voice shook in a sudden tinge of disbelief.
"Yeah, zero clue what's going on." Katt mumbled.
"Icepick, new plan," Fox's mind rushed to formulate a new strategy, one which considered the strange new threat that had reared its ugly head. He could hardly fathom the possibility of it being some sort of superweapon, a remnant of Oikonny's most desperate efforts. They couldn't have had anything significant left after their futile rebellion, but then again, Kosi somehow managed to dig up those copperheads, so was it really that impossible?
"Break off from the convoy for now, our primary target is… whatever that thing is. We can't let it- *Uuph*- can't let it get anywhere near the civilian area…" Fox's arm temporarily lifted from the throttle to push against the sudden dull feeling from within his stomach. That strange sensation, it had only been getting worse since he awoke, he'd considered it to be a minor disturbance that would eventually fade along with the other morning grogginess, but no matter how he tried to shake it from his mind, it kept coming back.
'Not now! Please!' Fox begged silently to himself.
The pilots eased their craft into a descent towards the looming menace, spreading out at a comfortable distance. Predictably, the four escorts that were hovering around the lengthy rectangular object broke from their path in unison, now heading straight for them.
"They're coming for us." Dash notified the others, who were watching the same events unfold in front of them.
"Flush 'em right, Katt." Within a moment of Fox's command, Katt pulled her craft into a sharp-right turn so that she'd approach the enemy group from the right after completing a semi-circle.
The enemy clearly showed no signs of hesitation in their movement, moving ahead in an unnaturally rigid manner.
"You with me Bowman?" Fox lifted a thumbs up while pulling his gaze to his left.
"With ya, Fox!" The simian excitedly replied, soaking up the unspoken affirmation of his exemplar.
None of them were strangers to this type of fight, the pilots on the other end though, certainly had to lack in equivalent experience.
The opposing formations quickly merged in a complex weave of entanglements, with Fox and Dash expertly gaining the edge on one of the straying fighters, while Katt landed a couple of shots from her crossing strike on the remaining chasers. None of the shots she landed happened to be 'kill-shots' she hoped for but forcing the shocked pilots to break off and evade satisfied her goal anyways.
Fox and Dash meanwhile traded positions with the singled-out fighter based on ever-changing variables such as speed and altitude. Whoever was on the other end probably wasn't inexperienced, just outmatched and outgunned. The successive series of bursts from the Arwing and Monkey Arrow were proving too much for the poor fighter's shields to bear, leaving the remainder of the ship open to whatever came next. They were pointing at a skyward direction when the simian began to cut inside the turn for the kill move; however, much to everyone's amazement (especially Dash's), the Invader split open in a distinctive popping noise, prematurely ejecting the capsule along with its inhabitant away from the damaged craft.
It was far from uncommon for pilots (especially less experienced ones) to give up at such times, the advantageous positioning of the expert pilots must've made defeat look inevitable. Either way, he was out of the fight.
"Whew! That's one down!" Dash exclaimed.
Fox huffed a few pained breaths, shaking his head in attempt to wash away the strange sensation in his vision. Everything seemed to be coming back all at once, what exactly it was, he couldn't tell, but it was getting worse by the minute, much worse. The dull feeling in his abdomen, the inability to track the target with his eyes, even the unsteady control that was starting to well within his muscles. Something was seriously wrong, but the whole life-threatening situation thing made deciphering it a tertiary priority at best.
Fox and Dash rotated their fighters to meet the remainder of the enemy formation, which as expected continued straight on their path towards- no wait, why did they just break off and retreat to the jungle? Were they giving up too?
"Ha! Cowards!" Katt yelled out, having just depleted the shield of one of the faster fighters before twisting off to reevaluate her turning position relative to the others.
"What are they doing?" Dash nearly burst into laughter at the pitiful sight of the disengaging enemy. "That's it?
"Hold up, I think I know exactly what they're doing." Fox watched the coordinated withdrawal from the corner of his vision. "They're too coordinated. They're likely trying to draw us into their canyons where they have their hidden Stratosweeps waiting, don't chase them."
The trio held their straight and steady position as the enemy group descended towards the tree line and split off into various directions within the dense patches of jungle to the west. Knowing that they could turn around again and strike at any moment, Fox cautioned the rest of the crew to remain aware of their surroundings.
"…Now that the little fish have swam off, let's take a bite off the big shark." The vulpine continued, fighting through the resurgent groaning within his abdomen with another quick breath and force of will.
The formation swung into action against the lunging black megastructure, pulling into a high-velocity strike pattern.
"Watch out everyone, it's got some turrets, active defensive pulsators, and-" Fox attempted to make sense of the inconclusive analysis data being pumped out through his main display screen. Even with its advanced real-time recognition and acquisition software, his overworked Arwing's avionics seemed to have issues identifying all but the most generic of objects attached to the hulking machine. Its must've been missing the necessary signatures to understand what it was seeing.
"Just be ready…"
"Hey Fox, have you been looking at the convoy?" Dash called out, moving his fighter close behind the vulpine's. "Seems they're making a break for it."
A quick glance to Fox's right echoed Dash's comment. The massive buildup of vehicles at the edge of the city had started their hopeful sprint to the tree line, as predicted. The recent distraction of the short-lived dogfight might have convinced them to make the move, or perhaps it was the sight of- whatever that thing was that gave them the extra bit of hope they needed.
"Hold off on the minnows, we got the big one to worry about." Fox ordered. Though you wouldn't find it explicitly written in any Cornerian combat manual, dealing with giant death machines usually took precedence over small transports.
The piercing of the fighters through the final layer of raincloud revealed to them the true visual form of the slowly dragging menace. It was almost unlike anything Fox had ever encountered, but from the corner of his mind, he pieced together the only logical explanation for a machine this size and shape. The bulky command tower standing rigidly at the end of the ship, the wide open-top bay comprising most of the rectangular structure, the utilitarian turret placement around the perimeter, it had to be.
There was a limited attempt by Andross' army to utilize ground-based carriers that primarily functioned as mobile airfields, carrying multitudes of fighters to the battlefield all while acting as a functional command and control platform. But given the lightning strike tactics favored by the Mad Emperor, and the tendency for the Venomians to rely on flexible, dedicated offensive measures meant that such weapons saw limited use, and were thus quickly abandoned once the efforts required to maintain them grew too much. If this machine was truly one of the remaining relics, there was no way it could've been kept in an adequate condition until now.
"Everyone, strafe 'em fast and don't worry about the guns, doesn't look like even half of them are online." Fox drew his gaze to the accompanying pilots, receiving light gestures of confirmation from each.
The formation tightened into a "Spearhead" formation, with the fighters arranged in a straight line towards the target. Each successive pilot would concentrate their fire on the same position in hopes of exploiting a weak point in the carrier's superstructure. With objects in this size and complexity, it was common for the entire mechanism to come to a halt once only a small portion had been sufficiently damaged.
Fox huffed a few quick bursts of enriched air through his flight mask. His heart was racing, his eyes were falling in and out of focus, and his composure was loosening, though by no means was any of it out of fear. There was a deep physiological awakening in his core, a haunting affliction that until now was only felt through momentary lapses of wellbeing. It was only getting worse, the uneven grip of his paw was now being managed through a conscious effort, and the dull feeling within his abdomen was quickly starting to draw his focus.
'No, I need to get through this!'
The Arwing's automatic warning systems notified him of his steep trajectory. He eased up slightly, now pointing to the ground below the mobile carrier's treads as the initial vector for the strafing maneuver. A thumb hovered over the charging button, ready to grant the ol' cannon rails the sudden burst of energy that it longed for.
The turrets on the edge of the carrier began to pepper their retaliatory fire, though the accuracy of the weapons appeared to be uncharacteristically dismal, unlikely to land hits even if Fox's ship remained still. The overall shape of the land carrier was now within the vulpine's field of vision, growing larger as the seconds ticked by and his Arwing drew closer. He wasn't going to hang around the side of the dilapidated carrier for very long, hence the decision to send off a couple of charged shots rather than a prolonged flurry of lesser shots.
The targeting reticule of the vulpine's display centered itself on the optimal firing position, located at the joint sections where two of the carrier's massive treads attached to the rest of the structure. The targeting computer's assessment was had made a simple calculation upon noticing the carrier's lack of active shielding, managing to dislodge such an important component from the overall structure would likely render the entire thing immobile. Since it didn't seem to contain any wings of aircraft or other additional support armaments, the structure would immediately become a massive target for any additional friendlies in the area to pick apart if needed.
The moment of action came for Fox sooner than later. The Arwing had finished its descent move and was now level with the ground carrier at a near hover over the open Fortunan plain. As soon as he entered the range, the charge of his cannon released a duo of energetic blasts towards the weakened junction, finishing his move off with a quick upward spin to avoid colliding into it, all while avoiding the weak attempts at return fire from the auxiliary defenses.
"Hnnnugh!" Fox's throat clamored in response to the jerking pain within his center. The sudden force of the pull
must've been the last thing his weakening body was prepared for, even for the experienced pilot's otherwise robust physiology. The vulpine could feel an odd welling within his chest, accompanied by the instinctual urge to tear the straps from his mask in preparation for what was about to come. Before he could react any further to the internal uneasiness, his head lunged forward and twisted to the side, spewing out the half-digested remains of his previous meal onto the floor of the cockpit, fortunately missing the central control column.
'Ok, this is bad.'
Dazed and breathing heavily in response to what just happened, the vulpine launched himself back against the padding of his seat to reassess the situation behind him, barely managing to glimpse the sight of Katt's fighter pulling out of a cataclysmic detonation, the carrier's side torn apart by the force of her final barrage. At least in his moment of infirmity there was some sort of relief. The surprising part was that it was so easy, as if it were the first boss in a beginner level playthrough.
"Whoohoo! Looks like he's going down!" Katt's fighter fluttered away from the damaged carrier in a floating flourish, doing it to show off rather than avoid the terribly placed shots from the poorly calibrated turrets.
"Down for the count!" Dash cheered.
"*Phew*, good going Katt…" Fox congratulated the feline on her slaying of the beast, its treads only now coming to a complete halt.
"Did you see how easy that was? It didn't have any shields on or anything." Dash added, swinging his head back around to get a better view of the smoldering wreckage.
"Yeah, what a joke…" Katt brought her own fighter up to Fox's side, having yet to notice anything odd about the vulpine's physical state. "That thing must've been heavily damaged already, no way a single attack should've taken the whole thing down." She brought a couple of fingers up to scratch her chin. "It doesn't make any sense why they'd deploy it, unless the whole thing was a…" Her wandering eyes fell on the sparsely arranged convoy, the bulk of which had already reached the halfway point between the safe cover of the dense jungle.
"A distraction! This thing wasn't fit for combat, they were just trying to suck our attention away from the real objective!"
"Damn it, they've already made up some ground." Dash pulled his Monkey Arrow into a slight turn towards the oncoming vehicles, readying himself for another strafing run. "Fox! Should we take 'em out?"
The vulpine hesitated in his answer, prioritizing the need to swallow the next stream of gastric fluid over keeping up with communication. "Engage military targets only…" He said amidst an uncomfortable haze wrapping around the back of his head.
Katt peered through the glass of her cockpit to try and view the wing leader, she didn't have a close view of the vulpine but could tell by his voice that something strange was overcoming him. "You ok Fox? You sound…"
"Yeah yeah, the mission. Break right and *Uungh*- engage."
The two mercenaries broke off from the short-lived formation, and with weapons charged and ready, streaked across the Fortunan sky towards the mixed fleet of military and civilian vehicles. It was an odd fact that the enemy air cover had completely disappeared, leaving the ground units vulnerable to attack, but they likely expected to last longer against the trio and perhaps pull them away into one of their own traps. Then again, few things about the execution of their plan made immediate sense, and maybe that was the point.
As Katt and Dash neared their first batch of objectives, triggers ready to unload a flurry of plasmatic death, the generalized communications channel broke through with an urgent message.
"All units, disengage from all soft ground targets! Repeat, disengage!"
"What?!" The front of Dash's cannon fizzled with the safety releaseof his charged shot, the excess energy vented to the surrounding air. "Why? Why now? What are they thinking?"
"All units be advised, we're receiving reports that the rebels have taken hostages and mixed them in the transports. We can't risk eliminating any of the transports."
With that, the group knew that the objective was all but over. They could only climb to a safer altitude and watch as the vehicles disappeared into the tree line one after the other. Once they were protected by the green arboreal canopy, there was no easy way of getting to them even if they were authorized.
"I can't believe this… those bastards are using innocent people as shields?" Dash questioned, anger lining his voice.
"Nothing we can do about it." Katt noted, watching helplessly as cluster of troop transports below her continued along their path in safety. Her vision quickly traced the air around her to acquire Fox's position, only to realize that he hadn't even broke off to engage any of the targets himself.
"Fox?"
The vulpine elicited a weak yip over the channel as a replacement for a verbal response. The edge of his vision seemed to vignette closing inwards with dark shadows on each side as the dull pains from the back of his head and the center of his abdomen intensified. One sort of pain was enough, but the sudden affliction had made it impossible to think straight in a matter of minutes, even keeping the Arwing level was a challenge at this point.
"Fox!" The vulpine sprang to attention as Katt's fighter suddenly appeared outside of his cockpit window. "Fox, what's going on?"
"Just not- feeling too well." The vulpine answered, his breaths having noticeably intensified since the puking incident. He couldn't keep any of it down, as the responses were involuntary.
"Fox, you really don't look good. You can't keep going like this, you need some help, or a hospital." Katt continued, having conducted a more thorough visual assessment of the vulpine's state.
"Look, friendlies are almost here. They're ACES, they'll take over for us," The feline glanced at the radar receiver, which showed multiple groupings of friendly fighters rushing to surround the city's greater region. "Fox, there's nothing we can do here, and you're in no state to continue. We can get you to CPM's place, it's closer and their medical capability is top notch."
Fox paused, not knowing whether Katt's offer was somehow going to fly in the face of Bill's strict requirements for the team and cause them all sorts of trouble. Then again, this was an emergency, and if the bulldog were to give anyone the benefit of the doubt in these matters, it would be Fox.
"Yeah." Fox answered, flipping the autopilot switch to the on position so that he could grip his aching core. "Let's get out of here."
~X~X~X~X~X~
"Icepick Green? Green please respond…" Bill groaned when the fifth attempt to get through with the rest of team succeeded just as well as the other tries. Fox should've updated them on their situation by now, unless of course they happened to be so occupied that communication was less of a priority.
"Command, can I get a report on Icepick Green? They don't seem to be responding. We might have signal issues."
"Icepick Green's last report had them heading to CPM Facility Alpha, report says- medical emergency?" The feminine voice on the other end returned.
"Medical?" Bill nearly froze, his mind fearing the worst. "What kind of medical are we talking about?"
"Sorry, that's as detailed as I know. I can try relaying them if you're having issues contacting them…"
"Sure, get me a hold of them as soon as you- can…" The bulldog's words trailed once his eyes rested on the horizon, the sight of rushing water streaming down the northern valley fully within his focus.
"Woah!" Falco exclaimed, caught off guard by sheer velocity of the inundation. "That's a lot more water than I was expecting."
"They blew the dam?" Wiley asked, his fighter sitting alongside the bulldog's. "I thought we had control of the LDA's territory, why is this happening?"
Bill hesitated. "We- the LDA still had the dam, but they wouldn't blow it, it would be suicide for them…" Another glance at the rushing water elevated his worries, the speed at which it was advancing would likely overtake a portion of the slower moving ground forces, and otherwise entrap a large remainder on top of the dividing ridge between the forking streams until evacuation came along or the waters subsided.
The enemy, or what little of the enemy had yet to be encountered in the jungle, must've been informed of the plan beforehand, lending to the fact that they'd all positioned themselves outside of the river path. However, the FLF's limited forces meant little at the moment, as the priority now was ensuring as many Cornerian forces as possible were spared from the deluge.
But how were they going to do that in a bunch of single-seat fighters? An evacuation mission consisting of hundreds of armored vehicles would take some serious transports on their own, there wasn't anything meaningful that Icepick could do on its own, right?
"Icepick, the guys on the ground won't be able to see anything until it's too late. I suggest we split up, two on each side… and- we'll trace the path of the water…" Bill began, pausing as he fought through his sloshing headache. "We'll have to give the ground guys an idea of where the flood's coming from, they can turn back if we're in front of them or keep going if we're behind."
Wiley nodded. "Sounds good. Come on, Falco." The weasel pulled the avian to a trajectory towards the opposite edge of the mountain ridge. Upon arrival, they spaced themselves out at the approximate width of the approaching flood, streaking down the ridge's side to where the ground forces were located downstream.
Bill and Gundu did the same on their end after alerting the armored division of the plan. Despite the speed of the flooding river, it wasn't much of a match for starfighters in the race down the valley. The difficulty of course was not matching the speed of the river, but accurately predicting where the majority was going to flow, a challenge which became immediately evident once Bill made a glance in the rear-view mirror to see the flood path twisting away from their predicted stream, splitting off a bit deeper into the Cornerian territory. This unexpected change practically voided their attempts.
Ok, so maybe predicting precise channel flow for a massive unforeseen multifaceted flash flood wasn't as easy as it sounded. Then again, that doesn't even sound easy, more like an intermediate to advanced skill to have.
"Well, shit. Looks like that plan was a wash." Wiley commented, noticing his own side's flow turning askew from the predicted path. It seemed like area closest to the mountain ridge was the best bet for staying dry on each side, with the amount of flow diverting to the lower elevated valleys a couple kilometers from the mountain bases.
Bill scanned the light jungle floor below, estimating within his pained mind the time it would take for most of the heavy vehicles to traverse enough ground to reach an elevated safety. With the approaching flood on the rear horizon, there wasn't much time to consider alternative options, they had to move in and move up where they could.
"Command… can I request t-" Bill pushed against his head with his left paw as a sudden, sharp jolt stuck itself through his temple, rendering him completely incapable of focusing on anything other than the immense pain. He could hear little more than the beating of his heart, his eyes shutting in response to the intense pressure welling within him. He was a tough dog, but even he couldn't take much more of this.
Fortunately, after about five seconds had passed, it was completely gone.
"Say again Icepick One, you're not coming in clear."
Bill took a moment to respond due to the sudden shock of having his sense readjust. The pain was mostly gone, all that remained was confusion.
"I- Get the- get the-"
He stumbled over his words, unable to arrange them into a coherent manner. He tried remembering the request he had cached in the front of his mind, but it was as if it had been lost in the sea of overwhelming pain.
He was breathing heavily now, too much to be considered within an acceptable range, even during high performance maneuvers. His voice had grown noticeably slurred, but even with the strange inhibitions overwhelming his speech, he had to get the message out.
"Get to higher ground!"
~X~X~X~X~X~
"What?" The hound shot up to his feet at the sound of someone knocking on the front door. The sloshing pain from the sudden movement was immediately noticeable, but he nonetheless did his best to push through.
He could hardly walk in his state, the acute illness ensuring that every reserve of energy was spent to keep his feet from collapsing under the weight of his body. As he exited the office area where he'd been sitting and reached the front display counter, he propped himself against its surface, using whatever additional strength he had left to shimmy over to the waist-level doorway. He instinctively grasped at the reserve pistol that he kept on the underside of the counter and tightly wrapped his fingers around the grip, fearing that he may need it on the off chance that the shadow on the other end of the front door had hostile intentions.
"Hey! We're closed! Closed! Get out of here!" He called out amidst a series of rough coughs, hoping that the mysterious figure would finally get the message. Seconds passed, and the figure remained.
Whoever they were, it looked like they were trying to manipulate the door somehow. The longer their machinations drew, the more likely their intentions were nefarious in nature.
Just as the old hound lifted his pistol to a readied position, a deafening shockwave blew him off his feet and sent him crashing into the row of shelves behind him. The sound of the blast was so intense that he couldn't hear anything but the ringing in his ears, and the flash of light pierced his vision so badly that it was a few dazed moments before his eyes could make sense of the stream of bodies rushing in through the now gaping entryway.
He clasped his fingers to manipulate his weapon, but they were empty, the force of the explosion had knocked the gun from his hold. A panicked series of rushed breaths signaled the immense strain being placed on his body, his head switching wildly between the figures as the clarity of his sight returned, terrified of what they were going to do, but unable to do anything to stop it. Any of them could shoot him at any second, and not think twice about it either.
Ten of the figures had already shuffled in, with five more presently entering, guns drawn and ready to fight. There wasn't much else he could do now that his body was in a such weakened state, and so with helplessness in his eyes, he watched as the marauders stripped the valuables from his store.
"Good going, men." Decanus Keir pushed aside a crumpled stack of boxes with his feet, clearing a path for him and the others to walk through. His gaze momentarily fell on the disabled hound, but quickly broke away once he realized the canine's incapacitated state presented an inconsequential threat.
"We'll need every weapon we can gather for the volunteers. Grab anything you like for yourself, but don't get too greedy. There's an entire army to supply." The simian leader announced, the remaining twenty or so followers having recently pushed into the building to make sure there was no remaining resistance.
A meekly guided pair of feet came shuffling in after the rest had already began to exfiltrate boxes of weapons and ammunition. Noticing the damage that the explosive breach had caused to the entrance area, Morbus walked over to the collection of debris to assist the others in scrounging up what remained. Carefully lifting one of the overturned shelves to free the contents underneath, the opossum noticed the eyes looking directly at him from the row across. It took only a moment for him to recognize that shape, his vision froze as his mind immediately flashed back to the hound that had helped train him on this very range.
Morbus only wanted to say he was sorry, but for what? Being the type of fiend that he should've feared all along? Helping plunge the Lylat into chaos and civil war after already being broken by decades of conflict?
He couldn't look at him anymore, the searing pain of facing the old hound sickened Morbus to his stomach, forcing the opossum to stumble and almost lose his footing on the pile of debris below him.
No matter what the Cornerians did, or what they stood for, these people didn't deserve this. And yet, there wasn't a thing he could do about it, the lowly individual he was. The machine was moving on with or without him now as his true mission was already accomplished, its results evident within the canine's affliction. The light soon faded from the hound's eyes, as whatever remaining stores of energy within him began to fail.
"Hey, Morbus! Come and help me with these Demon Rifles, will ya?" The voice of Morbus' former neighbor and current comrade called out from the opposite side of a heavy unopened crate of anti-material rifles. The opossum raced over to help lift the box, carrying it out of the building and towards the waiting trucks.
"Hey, you wonder if these things are fully activated? I hope they are, wouldn't want a half-assed version of these boys, even if they chew through ammo like crazy. I hear they've been used to take down aircraft, even tanks!"
Morbus didn't reply, he was instead busy scanning the midday skies in hopes that whatever had chased the convoy before hadn't returned with a vengeance.
~X~X~X~X~X~
The slumped body of the vulpine practically spilled out of the side of the Arwing, rolling down the convenient emergency slide that had been hastily rolled over by the ground crews and landing knees-first onto the airfield dirt. The surprised crewmen stared at Fox for a few moments before rolling up the slide and rushing to a nearby stretcher which had been carried out in preparation for the emergency landing.
"No no, I can…" Fox waved an outstretched paw to the crewmen, before resting himself on all fours, exhausted though willing to fight through the pain to stand up on his own. After all, he had the strength to (auto)pilot himself here, he damn well had the strength to stand up on his own and walk to the medical facility himself.
It was just as the vulpine lifted his hind leg in preparation for standing that the familiar liquid disturbance in his upper chest.
"Uup, not good." Fox leaned over, knowing well what was about to come. The onlooking crewmen watched in mixed confusion and disgust as the pilot vomited his contents onto the ground before staggering back upwards, somewhat off balance.
Katt and Dash, whom had just landed their fighters beside the Arwing, rushed to Fox's side to somehow help him, even though he had no intention of walking to the medical facility with someone else's assistance. The crewmen ran to Fox's side and urged him to lay on the padded stretcher, but their requests were denied at each instance.
"What is he doing? Why's he walking?" Dash turned to Katt, worried that Fox was being needlessly difficult in his attempt to prove himself.
"I think it has something to do with military protocol. If he walks to the facility himself, he can return to combat on his own, otherwise I think an officer would have to inspect and personally authorize him." The feline answered.
"Well, whatever he does… this is bad…" Dash continued. "Shouldn't we- I don't know, aren't we supposed to contact the others? I mean, we're supposed to return to the rest of the group, right?"
"Don't worry Dashie, I'll… sort this out, somehow." Katt answered to calm the simian down. "We already got relieved by ACES, there's not much more for us to do now other than make sure Fox is- ok." She turned her head to see the vulpine making good progress towards the clearly marked medical building, where a small contingent of various species stood waiting to be seen.
"What's going on here? It's like some kind of epidemic hit the place…" The simian pilot said, watching the bodies filter in and out of the small facility.
"I know. It makes more sense now why that guy at Takao's warned us about the fish, Fortuna's supposed to have some nasty stuff that isn't found anywhere else, it's probably what has Fox and Fay so worked up. So… we should get checked out then, right? The last thing we'd want is to be throwing up in the middle of a battle."
Katt paused to consider the subordinate's suggestion, but soon arrived at an accepting position. "Hmm, that might be a smart move. If this thing turns out to be serious enough, we might not have a choice."
~X~X~X~X~X~
The winds had begun to pick up on the lonely corner of the mountain ridge, the treetops swaying heavily against the rough breeze, drenching the unfortunate inhabitants below with its concentrated spillage. The majority of the Cornerian contingent that couldn't turn back in time to avoid the deluge had taken refuge on higher ground, fighting against the slippery mountain surfaces to reach safety.
Because of the terrain, and the space which the formation had spread itself out, most of the vehicles were arranged in small pockets, with about four on average making up the congregation. The initial reaches of the flood were starting to become visible in the distance, sweeping through the lowlands with a dangerous and unrelenting speed.
A pair of shadowed eyes watched the group of soldiers filter out of the armored vehicles from a rocky slit above them. A pair of paws belonging to the same body held a range marking device in its grip, having just lowered it to get a full view of the unaware Cornerians.
"Is that them? It's them, isn't it? I didn't know they'd be getting this close." The militant said, making a quick swivel behind him to see his comrade checking up.
"Yeah, yeah that's them…" The other one confirmed. "They're cuttin' it real close, aren't they? We're going to have to take cover. I've already had one near-death experience this war, I'd rather not risk another. Shit, and I thought that ditch near Nequita was dangerous, we got a lot more cover now, but that doesn't mean we're safe. They're trapped here, yeah, but we're just as stuck here as them."
The watching soldier returned to the handheld range marker, painting the targets as they appeared outside the limited view of the thin aperture.
"Where are they going? I can't see, there's too much rain."
"They're moving up a little, I think. If they go too far that way they'll be out of view." The watching militant answered, centering the targeting box on a particularly vulnerable APC. "This is insane. Do you really think it's going to work?" He wondered, turning to his associate.
"Well, I don't know. The Cornerians obviously haven't found out we're here so- I don't know, they've been beaten before, and pretty badly too. They're not invincible, they've just had no real competition. Honestly, we wouldn't have a chance, but they think we're a lot weaker than we actually-"
"All units, Ivy 5, Op is Green." Came the voice over the nearby radio.
The two militants glanced at each other momentarily before quickly getting to work, doing their best to inconspicuously cover the viewing slit and send the collected data to the centralized targeting system. When everything looked in order, the two gathered their personal weapons and retreated deeper into the cave system,
"Well, I hope they surrender, or at least agree to some sort of peace deal. I don't want this to go on. I don't even want to see them hurt, just back where they belong."
The FLF soldiers stepped inside the main cavern hallway, sealing the door to the sentry area behind them.
"Yeah, I know. Not much we can do now though, except wait."
As the two made their way to the emergency shelter, they could hear thunder coming from the upper reaches of the mountain. They had no reason to fear the thunder now, this time it belonged to them.
~X~X~X~X~X~
"Missile launch, missile launch! At our eleven!" Wiley called out, forcing the remainder of the group to take evasive maneuvers to avoid the projectiles. However, as they soon found out, the missiles were not intended for them, their paths instead curving downwards in pre-arranged routes at various points along the mountain edge.
"Track the source! What's spittin' them out?" Falco asked, instinctively readying his Arwing for an attack run along the densest patch of ground flashes.
"It's everywhere! No launchers, no nothing, they're coming straight out of the ground!" The weasel watched the ground radar in confusion as the rocketing projectiles seemed to flash out of thin air. In most cases, the firing of a missile from a vehicle or static platform meant that the source would become vulnerable to tracking and targeting, but no such source existed in whatever manner could be detected by Wiley's advanced targeting system.
It wasn't long before the trail of missiles closed in on their targets, the time spanning from launch to strike consisting on average about ten seconds.
"They're goin' for the armor!" Gundu warned.
The soldiers on the ground had hardly any time to properly react to the disturbance in the mountains above them, as by the time the sound had reached their ears, the projectiles had already made up a good portion of their overall distance. Even if they had time to react, there was no telling where to run to, and where the missiles were going.
The automated active protection systems on the Cornerian armor sprung to immediate action upon detecting the missiles. Most of the armored vehicles were equipped with a provision of Airslice blasters, which were shotgun-like defensive weapons that were designed to shoot and detonate approaching missiles just like these with a staggeringly high success rate. Most of the missiles that came close to the vehicles met their fate in this way, ripping apart violently just above the swaying trees.
"More launches, ten o'clock!" Wiley called out, a fresh series of rockets springing up from the mountaintops to their left.
"I got it!" Falco dipped his fighter downward, pulling it into a head-on path towards the newly tossed weapons. There was no room for error if what he was attempting had any hope of working; a slight offset in speed or position would render him incapable of performing the strafe correctly, he had to tune things precisely for it to have a hope of success, and even then…
The pull of his trigger released a steady stream of cannon fire at the arcing missiles, which fortunately had launched all at once, offering a relatively straight line with which Falco's green fire cut through with dazzling results. The Arwing rotated into an upward maneuver at the end of the line, having taken out about half of the anti-vehicle projectiles while at their apex. Now that the armor below had a much lighter load to handle, it was relatively easy for them to dispatch the sparse remainder.
"Whooo! Good going Falco!" Wiley cheered.
"There has to be more of them…" Bill noted, avoiding any celebratory remarks. "Spread out and- get the ready for them."
"Get what?" Falco tossed a glance to the lead pilot's craft, soon brushing it off with the conclusion that he'd misspoke. "Never mind…"
Icepick split to cover a greater area along the mountain ridge. The previous missile launches had been relegated to a somewhat small area, but it was safe to assume that other areas had been similarly rigged to barrage the armored column.
A flash reflected off the corner of Bill's eye, signaling the first of many in a cluster of munitions. "I've got a launch!" He called out between heavy breaths.
His state certainly hadn't improved, but there was no option other than to fight through it, lives were depending on him, and no one else could make the gap in time. The swarm was beginning to reach its height, pointing almost horizontal. The bulldog's targeting display tracked the series of projectiles in a collection of green boxes, signaling them as valid targets. They were going too fast to land tracked shots, he'd have to shoot unguided.
The canine pressed against his trigger, having approximated the position of his shots due to the short time he had to process everything. As his cannon spit out the successive bursts of green fire, the light flashes burned into the back of his eyes, the disturbance in his mind took hold once more, forcing an immense strain on his head and impeding his motor functions.
"Auugh!" The bulldog cried out from the sharp pain in his head, the fighter dipping downwards as he lost immediate control.
"Commander!" Wiley exclaimed.
It took everything Bill had to level himself back off, the pain was absolutely debilitating, occupying every facet of his focus as if his entire brain had gone off at once. The feeling soon subsided, but the overall straining feeling remained, like the last one.
In a panicked swivel, the bulldog checked his six to assess the damage caused by the missiles. By the looks of it, a few of the less-protected APCs and mobile artillery platforms had been severely hit, immobilizing them but likely failing to neutralize the personnel inside.
"Bill! What's going on!" Falco eased his Arwing to Bill's side, attempting to get a visual confirmation of the canine's state. "
Before the wing leader's words left his muzzle, the generalized channel erupted with a series of frantic messages, alerting everyone on the other end of the sudden development.
"We're taking fire! Contact on ridge seven, they're nested in!" "Enemy in sight, currently engaging!" "Hostile armor spotted on south ridge, requesting immediate backup!"
"Wiesel! I'm moving up to watch. I can't fight… I can't think straight. Whatever I have, it's taking me out… You're Icepick One, Captain!"
"Commander?" Wiley returned confused. He watched as Bill's fighter ascended to a higher elevation, above the mountain peaks. "Alright, understood."
"What's going on?" Falco asked, doing his best to acquire the new ground targets with limited success.
The weasel's finger rested on the side of his stick, sliding a notch forward to arm his arrangement of air-to-ground munitions. "I'm the wing leader for now, keep doing what your doing and don't stop!"
The panicked calls over the generalized channel continued, filling with the voices of ambushed Cornerians.
"They're hiding in the mountains, take cover!"
Wiley grunted, his ground sensors barely managing to pick up a group of embedded positions engaging in the firefight with the lower Cornerian vehicles. He readied the few bombs he had stored in the weapons bay for their imminent deployment, finger resting on the trigger in preparation for the strike.
"Icepick! Find those FLF bastards and root them out!"
~X~X~X~X~X~
Author's Notes: Hey there, in case you're wondering how long this story's going to be stretching I'd estimate we're currently at the 60-65% mark with the end of this chapter, I promise it's not going to be some indefinite story that becomes a major life project which never ends up getting finished.