Star Fox: Regime – a fan fiction by Wolf Reynolds
"Star Fox" and all related characters and trademarks © Nintendo, Inc.
Story ©2011 Wolf Reynolds
Author's Note: Portions of this chapter were inspired by the OC-Remix version of "Godspeed" by The Wingless. I've seen a couple of other Star Fox writers use this one, but I tried to put it in different context and change it up a bit. There is also a Tennyson reference (from "Locksley Hall") used as a code word.
CHAPTER 29
On board the L.R.S. Pleiades, Gantry #39A, Norantrova Space Port, Planet Macbeth (1829 hours CCT, 0129 hours local time)
"Well, crap," Fox said aloud over the screaming alarm, more calmly than he felt. "Slippy, get to work." Fox grabbed the microphone to make an address over the PA. "Now hear this, now hear this," Fox said officially, his voice projecting to every corner of the ship through the intercom, "This is Fox McCloud. In the name of the free people of the Lylat Federation, I hereby commandeer this vessel and all of its cargo and peripherals. Those who object must immediately disembark. That is all." Fox put the microphone down. "So much for the easy part of stealing a starship…" he mused as the alarm continued to blare.
"Intruder alert! Intruder alert!" the insufferable computer voice chimed again, "Sixty seconds to ship lockdown."
"Slippy, see if you can shut off that alarm," Fox ordered as he sat down in the captain's chair. He scanned the screen that was inlaid in the armrest, trying to find the sequence for launch. The computer didn't give him access, though; apparently, the bridge alert had activated its encryption system. "Slippy?" Fox said, still trying to get through the password protection.
"I'm trying, Fox!" Slippy said frenetically.
"Fox, the key!" Krystal suggested over the din.
Of course! Fox thought. He inserted the override key he had taken from Bill in the slot in front of the screen and turned it. Immediately, the display panel's screen changed, giving him the options to "Deactivate Alarm" or "Lockout Mode." He quickly touched the "Deactivate" option, and the alarm ceased. "Well, that's good," Fox said, "But someone will have definitely heard that. Have they sealed the terminal?"
"Yep," Slippy said, "Wow. That only took a few seconds. At least there's no one left still on the ship," he said, verifying his information on another display panel.
"Let's start the launch sequence," Fox said, easily finding the information now that the control panel was unencrypted. "Wolf, Miyu," he said, "Forget the plan. You've both studied the control panels. Get over here. I need all four of you or we'll never get out of here before they seal the gantry." Wolf and Miyu scrambled to the two vacant control stations beside Krystal and Slippy. Surprisingly, Wolf didn't balk at all. He must know that Miyu won't turn on us if she hasn't by now, Fox thought. "Internal power to 'enable'," Fox ordered.
Slippy pressed a switch and confirmed, "Enabled."
Fox then began issuing a series of commands to the four of them, with all of them answering back to the various commands.
"External power to 'disable'."
"Disabled."
"Core-to-engine plasma relay manifolds to 'open'."
"Opened."
"Engine start sequence to 'enable'."
"Enabled." Fox heard the whine of the engines under his feet as they began to come to life. He hoped there was no one on the ground outside trying to secure the ship; anyone on the tarmac would be unlikely to survive the launch. No choice. He had to keep telling himself that.
"Deflector shields to 'enable' and prime," Fox turned to Krystal.
"Primed to two-hundred gigajoules," she answered.
"Life support systems to 'enable'."
"Enabled."
"Cartography and astrogation computers to 'enable'."
"Enabled."
"External hatches to 'close'."
"Closed."
Fox turned to the weapons station manned by Wolf. "Primary weapons to 'disable'," he said.
"Disabled," Wolf answered.
"Secondary weapons to 'enable'."
"Enabled."
"Peripheral fire support systems to 'enable' and prime. Don't fire unless they fire."
"Primed. Holding fire."
The floor shook ever so slightly as the engines turned over and surged to life. "Star flight and launch systems enabled," Slippy reported, "Life support and shields 'go', engines idling and 'go' for throttle-up, primary and peripheral weaponry 'go', navigation systems 'go'. All systems 'go' for launch."
"They're locking the gantry, Fox," Miyu said, observing the hydraulic levers moving into place above the bridge.
"Launch now!" Fox said quickly, "Slippy, one-hundred percent thrust!" The engines roared as Slippy threw the throttle lever as far forward as it would go. There was a loud creaking noise, followed by the squeal of tortured metal as the Pleiades began to rise in the air. In the end, the sheer power of the starship proved too great for the launch gantry; pieces of the gantry above the ship snapped off and were thrown in various directions as the Pleiades escaped majestically from its prison. "Leader One to Leader Two," Fox said triumphantly, "We're rising through the mellow shade."
"Roger, Leader One," Falco called back, his beaming smile evident in his voice. "We're on our way."
As the ship climbed higher, Miyu observed the status panels indicating the statuses of various ship components. "We're passing through the area of maximum dynamic pressure on the ship," she reported, "Altitude ten thousand meters."
Now for the real test. Fox thought, If Bill locked changes out of the system, this is where we go plunging back down. He had to give the order, though; the engines would melt if they continued firing at full thrust like this. Fox sighed and said, "Engines throttle back to fifteen percent thrust. G-diffuser system to 'enable'." At only fifteen percent thrust, the plasma engines would not keep the Pleiades airborne; this was the moment – always somewhat unnerving for Fox, but absolutely terrifying in this particular case – when the gravitational diffusers had to come online and break the effects of Macbeth's gravitational pull. Because of the way the G-diffuser system worked, there was no way to monitor its status unless it was active – meaning no one could tell whether it was working unless it actually started working. This was always the most dangerous part of launching a ship (any ship, and the Pleiades was no exception); the engines had to be throttled back to prevent the G-diffuser's start sequence from being overloaded, but in that condition, they couldn't provide enough lift to keep the ship in the air. If Bill or anyone else had tampered with the system or encrypted it with extra security – both of which were real possibilities – the Pleiades would be hurtling back towards Macbeth's blue soil in a matter of moments. The engines wouldn't have a short enough reaction time to throttle back up before the ship crashed, the explosion likely taking the three Wolfen fighters with it.
The whine of the engines lessened as the throttle closed, and Fox began feeling the falling sensation of weightlessness as gravity started to catch the ship. After an everlasting instant, though, Fox's weight settled again. "Enabled," Slippy announced with a smile.
"Leader Two to Leader One," Falco's voice came through to Fox's ear, "Looks like we've got company."
"Roger, Falco," Fox said, "Krystal, enemy fighters on the plot?"
"Affirmative," she answered with a nod, "Two squadrons. They're priming weapons."
"Well, that's not very nice," Fox mused, "They could have at least tried telling us to stand down before firing. How's the comm-line to Unit Two?"
"Green for all three ships," Krystal answered.
"Put Falco on," Fox said. Falco's image appeared on the ship's main viewscreen. "Looks like eight on three, Falco. You ready for some furball?"
"You know me, Fox," he replied, the eagerness visible on his face.
"Draw them into the ship's range," Fox said, "and we'll see if we can even the odds for you a bit."
"Bah," Falco huffed, "You never let me have any fun. There's only eight of them."
"I promised Katt I wouldn't let anything happen to you," Fox said, purely for meanness.
"I'll get you, Fox," Falco said. There was a sudden flash behind him. "No time right now, though. They're firing. They're not military, Fox – the livery on these fighters looks like local police, but there could be some Civil Guards in there."
"Return fire," Fox ordered. He turned to Wolf and said, "Activate the peripheral fire support system."
"Right," Wolf said, "Should I prime secondary weapons?"
"Probably," Fox answered. "Krystal, put the tactical display on the screen, please."
"Right away, Fox," she answered. Fox watched the tactical plot as Falco, Panther, and Peppy battled the police fighters. Watching a dogfight on a tactical plot was always a weird feeling for Fox; all he saw was three blue arrows and eight red arrows moving through a grid, ducking and weaving around each other. It seemed so impersonal compared to the actual fight – each of those three blue arrows represented a close, passionate friend who was fighting for his life. Fox didn't like watching dogfights. He wanted to be in the fight. Inwardly, though, he knew that his place was here on the bridge of the Pleiades. He had spent days – weeks – planning for this, ever since Wolf first presented the idea. He had stayed up during the wee hours of the morning studying launch protocols, learning the ship's functions, and studying its operations. No one else outside of the Republic military knew the Pleiades as well as Fox. As much as he wanted to be in the fight, he needed to be right where he was.
Outer Atmosphere, Planet Macbeth (1836 hours CCT, 0136 hours local time)
Explosions riddled the sky around the Pleiades as Falco and his two wingmen fought the police fighters. Falco was made for this. He was fighting to survive, but he was finally getting a straight fight instead of ducking cops, sneaking around, and hiding in abandoned airbases. Although he was more familiar with the Arwing used by the Star Fox team, Falco certainly wasn't uncomfortable in the cockpit of the Wolfen. In fact, he was beginning to take quite a shine to it.
"Falco, check your six!" Peppy said frantically over his radio, "Behind you, behind you!"
Falco whipped his head around, trying to see directly behind him – he couldn't, of course; his head just didn't work that way. He was a falcon, not a bloody owl. He leaned to his left, craning his neck in an attempt to see his pursuer, but to no avail. "Damn," he cursed, yanking the control stick of his fighter to the left to barrel-roll away from a laser blast. "I can't see him," he said, "Can you get him from there?"
"Sorry," Peppy said, a nearby explosion breaking his transmission for a moment. The signal quickly recovered, and Peppy said, "I'm a bit busy at the moment."
A laser bolt flew past Falco's canopy, causing his fighter to rock violently to the right and just barely missing his right stabilizer. "Panther," he called into his radio, "Get over here!"
Out of nowhere, Falco saw Panther's rose insignia as it whizzed past him, coming within inches of his canopy. "Right with you, Falco," Panther called, "I've got him."
"Just don't hit me," Falco appealed. An explosion behind him bumped his ship forward. He quickly regained control, and Panther flew out ahead of him.
"All clear," Panther said, "That leaves seven." The battle raged on and on. Subconsciously, Falco knew the fight's developments were occurring within seconds, but the glorious furball match seemed to go on and on – which was exactly how Falco wanted it. They had to repel these fighters, though, and they were making only precious little headway, with Peppy destroying one ship.
As the dogfight progressed, Falco began to notice that their three Wolfens were getting further and further apart – and further away from the Pleiades. "We're starting to get strung out, guys," Falco called into his radio, "Try to draw them back in range of the ship's guns."
"Roger," Peppy answered.
Another laser blast zipped past Falco's fighter. "You've picked up another one, Falco," Panther said, "I can't help you this time."
"Peppy?"
"Sorry, Falco," Peppy called back, "You're on your own."
"Nothing for it, then," Falco said, mostly to himself. He banked his craft ninety degrees to the left, air-braked as hard as he could, and pulled all the way back on the flight stick. He had hoped the police pilot would fly right past him, allowing Falco to move in behind for the kill. Unfortunately, Falco underestimated both the other ship's maneuverability and its pilot's reflexes. The enemy pilot remained firmly behind Falco. Although the police fighter couldn't get a clear shot at him, it was only a matter of time. These have to be Civil Guards, Falco considered, No local police departments have pilot training like this. Falco persisted, though. He rolled his craft into an inverted position and pulled back on the stick, launching into a split-S maneuver. Falco quickly began redding out from the sudden burst of negative Gs. Not letting his bloodshot eyes distract him, Falco pulled his craft level and banked hard to the right, the police fighter still tightly behind him. He kept spiraling, flying in clockwise circles as tightly as his ship would allow. He still couldn't outmaneuver the enemy pilot. Then Falco slammed forward on the throttle and rolled 180 degrees to the left, pulling the airbrake hard. The enemy pilot didn't anticipate this maneuver and flew past. Falco's adrenaline-driven pilot senses took over, and he seized the opportunity in that deadly instant. He banked hard and stabilized instantly, dropping in directly behind the enemy pilot. "Eat this, scumbag!" he shouted, firing his laser. The fighter in front of him burst into flames and then exploded violently.
Clear of the enemy pilot, Falco pulled up into an Immelmann turn and rushed back towards his wingmen and the Pleiades. There were now five enemy fighters to their three, but the fight didn't feel any less intense. Even as he got in close, Falco had trouble distinguishing individual events – not because he had redded out, but because the action was just too intense for one pair of eyes to follow. He did see a piece of Peppy's ship explode, though. "I'm hit," Peppy said.
"You all right, Pops?" Falco asked, looking left towards Peppy's flagging ship.
"Yeah, I'm fine," he answered, "But I don't think there's much more I can do out here. Looks like stabilizer damage."
"Clear, then," Falco said, "We can handle it. Get back to the ship."
Peppy apologized for having to leave the fight, then banked shakily towards the docking bay of the Pleiades, a trail of smoke streaming from the tail of his fighter. One of the fighters gave chase and was hit by the guns on the Pleiades. "Just you and me, hermano," Panther said over the radio.
"All right, losers," Falco said, turning his fighter towards the hull of the Pleiades, "This time, we make the rules!" Panther sidled up to Falco's wing and gave him a thumbs-up from his cockpit, and the two of them flew to within a few meters of the starship's outer plating. The police pilots had no choice but to follow, but in doing so, they brought themselves within range of the ship's fire support system. One enemy fighter exploded immediately, and another was hit. Falco targeted the gyrating fighter, destroying it easily. The other two enemy pilots, now facing two aces and the superior firepower of the Cornerian flagship, apparently decided that the odds were no longer in their favor. They pulled away from the ship, inverted, and began descending towards the planet's surface. Falco watched over his shoulder for a few moments, and the enemy pilots didn't seem to have any interest in returning to the fight and throwing their lives away.
"Falco," Fox said over the radio, "We saw Peppy land and the other ships are heading down. What's going on?"
"Looks like they're bugging out, Fox," Falco answered, "Guess they figured we weren't worth it. We did shoot six of 'em down, after all."
"Nice shooting," Fox complimented, "Think they're coming back?"
"Not a chance, Fox," Falco answered, "Not now that they see the ship's guns online. I think we made it."
"I think you're right, Falco," Fox answered, "I think you're right. You guys get back here."
The next few minutes were a blur to Falco; as he came down from the adrenaline high, Falco wasn't very aware of what was going on around him. He and Panther landed in the docking bay – and, seeing the damage to Peppy's fighter, Falco considered just how lucky Peppy was to be alive at that moment – and headed up to the bridge.
Fox slapped Falco on the back as he came onto the bridge. It was a somewhat surreal feeling; this had been the object of their schemes. They had planned for it, talked about it, and argued over it, and now, all at once, they had completed it. Falco remembered thinking when Fox had first mentioned it to him that the Pleiades would be a great ship to get their hands on, but that they didn't really have any serious chance of being successful – yet now he stood on the ship's bridge, and not with MPs holding guns on him. Fox's harebrained scheme had actually worked. Oh, they weren't Scot-free just yet, of course; the Republic wasn't likely to just sit still and let one of its most prized possessions slip right out of its hands. Still, they now had the Pleiades. The firepower of the Pleiades was superior to every ship in the Lylat System – including the ships of the Cornerian fleet. Corneria had numbers on their side, but they now had firepower, a central base that could easily move from place to place, and a virtually unassailable fortress. Falco had thought he would feel relieved at this point – and, to a certain extent, he was; no one was shooting at him anymore, at any rate – but instead of feeling overly relieved, he was somewhat overwhelmed. The capture of the Pleiades had thrown into sharp relief the idea that their fight was only now beginning, but they had a new tool for the fight – one that gave them a fighting chance.
