Into the Storm

Vaccini smiled, his many prosperous chins resting atop his folded hands. Truly, the universe was aligned in his favor as of late. All the cards were in his hands. Piece after piece just falling into place one after the other.

"Thank you," he said to fate's most recent herald, "I am most appreciative of your loyalty to my continued business. Tell me, whatever can I do to repay you?"

"No payment will be required. This will be considered an extension of our earlier agreement. It is my belief that McCloud is a radical element that must be mitigated in order to restore this system's stability. In this, our interests align."

"Of course," Vaccini responded, bemusedly, "So tell me, how is it that we proceed? I cannot send many men given my circumstances, you understand."

"Your men are not needed. You are merely being informed per our previous agreement. He is not aware, but McCloud is nearby. I will bring him to me, and deal with him myself. It is the most efficient solution. You will be informed of the outcome, then our business will be concluded."

"Ah," Vaccini said, giving a gracious gesture, "Truly, Horus, you do too much. When this is all done, we must talk about future ventures. A partnership, perhaps? But that is for another day, yes? I have only one more request before we conclude, if I might?"

"Granted."

"Before you kill him," he said with a sharp smile, "I want McCloud to see this."

With a gesture, a video file of his lovely Cerinian houseguest in her less than humble accommodations was uploaded to Horus across their encrypted channel.

"I want him to know that I have crushed him," Vaccini said, pleasantly, "I want him to know what happens to people who cross me…I want him to know he has failed, and that I – have won."

"Pointless sentiment. But I will do so. In the interest of future ventures."

With that, the transmission cut. Vaccini settled into his comfortable sofa, a feeling of pure satisfaction washing over him.

What a marvelous day!

. . .

It had been a tense few hours, but they'd finally gotten a response from Roddick's contact. They had been waiting just outside the nebula, since they weren't able to send or receive transmissions from inside the giant cloud itself. Horus, a pretty straightforward, enigmatic figure had finally returned their inquiry and negotiated terms for doing business. An outrageous sum of credits was agreed to, and they were to meet in person, at a location they would be led to shortly.

"I don't like this," Roddick said, sullenly.

"What? Why? This was your idea!" Fay threw back, showing her own unease by the pitch in her voice.

"Asking for this Viccini guy's whereabouts was my idea," the Avian responded, "I didn't expect a face to face. The way I was told, this Horus guy never meets anyone! All his business is done remotely. He's supposed to be a real ghost. Or a paranoid shut in. Whichever, this is all very… fishy."

"And he was very clear," Fox weighed in, "Venom and Corneria are both intercepting every transmission that they can lately. There's too much surveillance from both sides. It's safer to meet in person. I don't really like it either, but it makes sense."

They waited in an uneasy silence for a while after that before the external comm. channel cracked to life. As it did, it spewed out a stream of pulsating static, squeals, and squelches. A barrage of sound that went on unabated for nearly a full minute before it was quieted. They could all still hear it, but the speaker's volume seemed to have been turned down.

"Apologies," Orian came over the gunship's internal comms., making Roddick flinch. The old man managed to keep it together, though, so the A.I. continued, "We're receiving a strange transmission."

"Still don't trust that thing…" Roddick muttered under his breath. They'd spent part of the last few hours trying to explain to the man that Orian was not the same A.I. he had encountered before.

They had made what could almost be considered progress.

"Where's it coming from?" Fox asked, dismissing the old man's grumbling.

"It seems to be coming from inside the nebula," Orian answered.

All eyes turned to the glistening expanse outside the ship's front viewport.

An uneasy feeling started in Fox gut as he asked, "What kind of signal is it?"

"It would appear to be a…direct pulse transmission, locked onto our I.D. transponder," Orian mused, "I believe we are supposed to follow it."

Now it was Fay's turn to look Fox's way and say, "I don't like this…"

Fox frowned. He shared the sentiment, but they didn't need to hear that.

"You're both just on edge from earlier," he asserted, firmly, "Now, we're not following anything unless we know who's sending it, and where it's leading. Can we send a signal back? Try to establish actual communication?"

Almost as if in answer to the question, a voice broke through the static, clear enough to be identified as the same voice they'd spoken to earlier, but grainy. The volume seemed to pulse at regular intervals along with the rest of the white noise as Horus began to speak.

"I apologize for the nature of our communications, but this transmission cannot be traced by outside listeners. You will follow this signal. It will lead you through the nebula to our rendezvous location."

"And where is that supposed to be?" Fox asked, quietly signaling for everyone else to keep quiet.

"There is a station within the Nebula where we will meet. I am there currently. Follow the beacons."

"You want me to just dive into Sector Z blind?" Fox asked, bitingly, "Following some damn beacon? You could be baiting me in there to get lost. I'm not suicidal, Pal. Look, if this signal can't be tapped, then why not just tell us what we need to know now?"

"Currency cannot be exchanged via this transmission. It must be done in person. My assistance is conditional. These are the terms. Follow the beacons."

Now, he was a lot of things, a lot of not so great things, but if there was one thing Fox McCloud was not, it was an idiot.

"No," he said, to the visible relief of his companions, "I don't like this. It's too suspicious, and I don't know you. I've got other contacts, so unless you can offer some kind of assurances that I'm coming back out of there, then the deal's off."

There was a long pause, and everyone was focused intently on the odd rhythm in the static when Horus responded.

"Perhaps this will serve as sufficient incentive."

There was another brief pause, and then the voice coming out of the speaker changed to one Fox knew.

"What do you want?" Krystal's voice asked.

"Why must you be so angry with Vaccini?" a bloated pig's voice answered across the same speaker.

"You can't keep me here." Krystal protested, acidly.

"And why not?" Vaccini replied, pleasantly, "You have been very rude to me, and I believe that I deserve reparations. But still I have been very accommodating, yes? And besides, who will miss you, eh? No one. But! I have someone who I am thinking will be very interested in meeting you. Willing to pay and to, eh, forgive. This will make us even, you and I, yes? Until then, you are Vaccini's guest. So please, try to eh… relax, no? If you do not learn to behave before I must present you, then I will be forced to have you...disciplined, and I would truly hate to tarnish my reputation by delivering you in less than perfect condition."

"Fuck you!" Krystal snarled.

Vaccini's laughter was the last bit sent, growing quieter as he presumably left. Nothing else followed. There was just the white noise.

Fox ground his teeth down hard, his lips peeling back in a snarl. His hand shot out to the bulkhead beside him, and there was a clang loud enough to make everyone else jump. When he went to bring his hand back down he discovered slight resistance and realized the metal had warped around his fist. He tore it free with a sharp pull, and tried very hard to resist the suit. Part of him wanted it. Wanted to change.

"Horus!" he barked. But there was no response. Just the pulse of the signal.

A rolling growl erupted into a violent string of curses as Fox made for the cockpit.

"That was Krystal, wasn't it?" Fay asked, following close behind, "and Vaccini has her?"

Fox didn't answer. He brought the signal up on the Heads-Up-Display for analysis and began scanning for hidden code.

Fay stared at him for a moment before asking, "What are you going to do?"

Fox was quiet for a moment, then, in a low tone, he said, "I'm not sure yet."

Fay's eyes widened for an instant, then narrowed again as she marched up to within a few inches of his face.

"You don't know?" she asked, firmly, staring into his eyes, "Fox! Whatever has gone on between you two, that woman was your friend. If she's in danger, then we need to help her!"

"I know that!" he shot back, feeling a little insulted that she had felt the need to say it, "But I can't put all of you at risk to help her! You take Roddick back to the corvette, and –"

"Oh enough!" Fay interrupts, "You don't have to put anything at risk! I'll do that on my own, thank you very much! I'm coming with you. Mr. Newman can go to the Corvette on his own!"

"Fine by me," the old man chimed in.

"Quiet!" they both snaped in unison.

Roddick threw his hands up in surrender and backed off with a sort of casual, sarcastic grace that Fox just wasn't in the mood to appreciate.

He was about to say something when Fay put a hand on his cheek, and their eyes met.

"Listen to me, Fox," she said, gently, "You can't control everything. Sometimes you have to accept that the people around you are willing to take on risks of their own if it means helping you."

She let her hand fall away from his face, but kept eye contact, saying, "Now, we are going in there. We are going to get every drop of information we can out of this Horus person. And we are going to rescue your ex, together, Mr. McCloud. And when we do, I am going to Rub. Her. Face in it."

The smile she gave was polite, prim, and proper. It could almost have been mistaken for friendly if it wasn't for the vindictive look in her icy blue eyes.

"You're a saint," Fox said, mock admiration mixing with the real thing.

Fay replied with a flip of her hair as she settled into the copilot's seat and said, "I know."

"Right, so, I'll go ahead and transfer over to the other ship now, if that's alright," Roddick said in an obvious attempt to steer the conversation away from let's charge into the radioactive nebula.

"No time," Fox replied. He settled into the pilot's seat and began adjusting the nav system to use the beacon as a guide point.

"Five seconds ago you didn't want to put anyone at risk!" the man loudly objected.

"I didn't want to put her at risk. You're an old alcoholic with maybe ten years left on his liver. No offense."

"That's bullshit," the man grumbled, dropping into a seat behind him, "…I got at least fifteen."

Fox smiled, even though, honestly, he was still on his heels from all this shit. He pushed forward on the throttle the second the navigation systems were calibrated, and began following the signal toward the stormy expanse.

"So, we're walking into a trap," he announced.

"Obviously," Roddick grumbled.

Fox brushed it off and went on.

"Orian," he said, "I need you to keep the corvette close. I doubt the stealth systems will work in here, but she should be hard to detect anyway. Stay far enough back to remain undetected, but near enough to maintain contact. Think you can do that?"

"When will you stop underestimating me?" Orian asked, "I've already repurposed a number of the corvette's electronic warfare systems to generate a two way pulse similar to the one we are following. It is undetectable to anyone not in the loop, and will allow me to maintain contact with both vessels at a relatively safe distance. Will that do, captain?"

"Aww," Fay cooed, "He's starting to take after you, Fox!"

"That'll do," Fox answered, "Now, I don't think this guy knows I'm not alone, and that's an advantage. Normally, the jig would be up when we got within sensor range of the station and they scanned us, but we'll have a couple of things in our favor there too. The nebula will prevent scanning until we're actually docked, and even then, Orian can run interference on any attempt to access this ships internal systems. I don't know how big this station is. If it has a hanger, then no problem, if not, then we have to dock externally, and things might get complicated."

"Complicated how?" Fay asked.

"HRD-Op?" Roddick posed.

Fox nodded, and Fay echoed, "Hard Op?"

"It's an acronym," Fox explained, "H.R.D. Op. High Risk Docking Operation. Normally, when two ships dock externally, one or the other has to drop its shields to prevent problems with conflicting shield harmonics, which is fine in most circumstances, but in high risk situation, like when there's a lot of high-velocity debris floating around, or you're under fire –"

"Or you're balls-deep in hostile nebula," Roddick interjected. His choice of wording caused Fay to wrinkle her nose.

"– right." Fox continued, "In those kinds of circumstances, having either ship drop their shields is too risky, so instead you have to match shield harmonics. It's a pain in the ass, and there are a lot of little things that can go wrong while you're doing it, but once you're docked you essentially share the same shield, and everything is kosher from there."

"You make it sound so easy," Fay teased.

"We're gonna die, aren't we?" Roddick asked.

"Maybe," Fay jumped in again, preventing a comment that Fox was about to let fly, "but I've lived a nice long life so…"

"Were you always this sarcastic?" Fox asked, a little miffed that Fay had stolen his thunder.

She smiled happily, and said, "I guess Orian isn't the only one you've been rubbing off on."

After a brief pause, Roddick released a short staccato of gruff laughter which he'd clearly tried to suppress.

"Oh shut up!" Fay threw back at the old man, recognizing the unintended innuendo, "Dirty old man!"

Fox smiled along with everyone else, but the laughter died as the first bits of charged dust began rolling off the shields just beyond the viewport. Truth be told, Fox was nervous as hell. They all were. The joking was just a cover, and as the fiery orange nebula began to slowly engulf them, the humor was snuffed out like a candle flame. Quietly, Fox transferred all nonessential power to the shield generator.

"Anyway," Fox broke the silence, "Once we're inside, I'll take point. Fay, I want you to stay close and watch our six. We don't know the layout of the station, but anything bigger than a hall or a small room is danger area. That means we're going to avoid it if we can, and if we can't then we need to move through it as quickly as possible. We cover each other's movements, advance or retreat by bounds. Be especially alert at intersecting corridors and doorways."

Fay was listening intently, and nodded at each significant point.

"Orian, the second we establish a link, I need you to prioritize defense systems, door controls, and internal surveillance in that order. Anything after that is at your discretion."

"Understood."

Proximity sensors gave early warning as an object loomed ahead of them in the cloud. Fox was keeping the throttle down, so moving around it wasn't difficult. As they passed it, Fox was able to make out what it was.

"That's one of the old nav buoys," he remarked.

"It's also the source of our signal," Orian added.

They passed it, and once they did, the signal cut for an instant, then resumed from a new source.

"Horus is using the buoys?" Fox thought aloud, "They haven't been maintained in decades. They shouldn't work."

Fox brought the gunship to a temporary halt near the large navigational device in order to re-calibrate the ship's systems to follow the new beacon. Around them, energy rippled and surged, bringing up memories of the last time he'd been this deep in the nebula. Fox pushed forward on the throttle again to proceed to the next buoy.

Pigma's ambush, near the end of the Anglar Blitz. Drone fighters hidden in the dust. Hit and run. The Great Fox taking a beating as Fox and Falco fought for their lives. Missiles, undetected until almost too late, bursting clear of a cloud. Lasers making auroras in the nebula with each burst of fire. They'd barely made it out of there alive.

A hand gently rested on his shoulder, and he turned to see Fay give him a reassuring smile. He shook off the ugly thoughts as best he could, and attempted to smile back before focusing on his flying. They flew on for what felt like ages, but what was likely only a matter of minutes. Orian gave occasional assurances that the corvette was tracking effectively. All said and done, they passed three buoys, deeper than anyone had flown into this hell hole in over fifty years.

As if in answer to that thought, the darkened shape of a large vessel appeared as they passed it on their port side. It was big, and Fox new the silhouette. An old Venomonian Dreadnought. Energy crackled along a number of antennae that extended from her, then cascaded along the rest of the vessel's hull, illustrating its lack of shields and illuminating the derelict as it slowly began to disappear behind them.

"Anyone want to turn back yet?" Roddick asked, nervously.

The joke fell flat, and when no one responded, he sunk into his seat a little more, knuckles white on the arm rests.

"So, the plan?" Fay probed in a subdued tone.

"The plan," Fox answered in agreement to her distraction, "Once we're in and Orian is interfering with the station's systems, we take the most direct route to the control room. Assuming Orian hasn't already taken over all the critical systems, we can get manual control from there and force Horus to come to us. This saves us from having to search the station for him."

"Numbers?" Roddick asked, sounding engaged for the first time.

"Depends on the size of the station, but given its location, maintaining a large force would be impractical," Fox assessed taking a deep breath, "I'd say, worst case scenario, we're outnumbered maybe five-to-one?"

"Is that all?" Roddick quipped, "I'm assuming I'm not included in that calculation."

"No," Fox returned, "you'll stay on the ship where Orian can keep an eye on you. He'll have complete control, so don't get any funny ideas about leaving us here."

The old man scowled and grumbled, "Never crossed my mind."

Fox tensed as he prepped himself for the last bit of planning. He wasn't sure if he even wanted to cover this, but he knew he should.

"Listen, Fay," he managed in a low tone, "If one of us goes down."

"I don't want to think about that," Fay said, but despite her dismissal, she cast her eyes down, and her lips pulled tight.

"Neither do I," he said, "but we need to cover this. If I go down, I'll lay down covering fire while you fall back to the ship."

"I won't-"

Fox cut her off with a steady, "Yes you will."

She paused to take a couple of shallow breaths, then asked, "And if I… go down?"

Fox forced a lopsided grin and said, "Then you lay down covering fire while I drag you back to the ship."

"Hypocrite," she managed with a weak smile of her own.

After a moment, Roddick cleared his throat and asked, "Where's the first aid kit on this tub?"

Fay gave him a look, and the man averted his eyes.

"It's been a while, but I think I still remember some basic field aid," Roddick trudged on, "Don't imagine it's changed too much over the years. It's something I can do, right? You know… in case things… go south?"

Fay nodded, then told him, "It's in the hold, next to the charging station I used to use for my suit."

Roddick grunted his understanding, and then no one said a word as they coasted deeper into Sector Z. After about a minute, the station finally began to take shape ahead of them. It started as a dark blot, then gained definition as it began to emerge from the glowing mists. A smaller station. No hangers they could see. The lights of a single external docking point came to life as they grew closer, projecting a guiding vector into the dust to bring them in. When they were close enough, Fox brought the gunship to a halt and frowned. A quick visual scan of the station's hull showed no signs of external weapon systems, so that was good.

"Shit," he cursed a moment later, "Can't get read on the shield frequency. Fucker isn't transmitting anything either."

"Have to do it manually," Roddick coached.

Fox barred his fangs and blew out an angry breath. He flicked a switch to change the ship's maneuvering thrusters to [FINE]. It cut their power down considerably and automatically countered thrust to eliminate any unintentional movement. After taking a deep breath, and with agonizing slowness, he brought the gunship steadily closer. Closer. Closer.

The shields began to visibly ripple as they made the slightest contact with those of the station, and Fox released the controls. The ship automatically corrected to eliminate all motion and came to a compete standstill. He waited one second after that to release his breath.

"Matching harmonics," Orian said, and moments later, the rippling in both shields began to harmonize. Then, like two bubbles of oil in water, they started to merge. As they did, Fox brought the gunship in to close the remainder of the distance between them and the station. Seconds later, they were docked.

Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief, and Fox chimed in with, "Now for the easy part."

It earned him a nervous chuckle, but that was it. Everyone got up and started moving. Fay left to get her gear on, and Roddick went to prep the med kit, leaving Fox alone in the cockpit.

"Well, they're not wasting any time," Orian said, sounding amused, "They've already made a number of attempts to hack us. It's really quaint, I… hmm…"

"What?" Fox asked when Orian fell silent.

"These attacks are getting… vigorous," Orian said, sounding like he was actually straining, "I think we may be dealing with another A.I."

Fox cut to the chase and asked, "Can you take him?"

"Mm-hmm," Orian responded, distractedly, "Not going to be as easy as I hoped, but… he's… Not. Getting. Through! Haha! Take that!"

Fox stood and made for the hatch, letting the suit wash over most of his body as me moved. He joined Roddick in the hold where he had stashed his makeshift armory. He grabbed a blaster carbine, a pistol, and a plasma caster, in case they had personal shields. The plasma weapon was small, about the size of an old sawed off shotgun, but it would do the job against a shielded opponent if he made a one-two punch with the pistol. The carbine could also be charged to pierce a shield, but that was more of a slower 'option-B.' For good measure, he grabbed a few grenades. It was a tough call, but he went with one concussion and two ion explosives. Fragmentation grenades would be too risky in the station's narrow passageways, and anything with high explosives risked puncturing a weak point in the hull. The concussion grenade would do in a pinch. The ion grenades would help with any hostile systems Orian couldn't immediately handle. Ion-based weapon systems may have caused problems for older shield units, but the newer military units they were sporting had better surge protection than any handheld ion weapon could overcome. End result: machines fried without exposing your own ass. A slight alteration in the suit produced a belt for the explosives and holsters for his two sidearms. The carbine hung from a sling around his shoulders which he quickly adjusted, bringing the rifle up to ensure proper tension before letting it drop down to an alert carry.

He let the adrenaline build as he nodded to Roddick and left the hold.

"Orian, how're we doing?" he asked as Fay joined him near the hatch.

"Not as well as I'd hopped," the A.I. stated, with considerable frustration, "I'm winning, gradually, but the system keeps adapting to slow me down. This is a surprisingly sophisticated A.I. I'm tussling with."

Fox gave Fay a quick once over. She had on a vac-suit, a 12mm blaster pistol strapped to her leg, and… her sword.

"What have we got so far?" he asked Orian as he gave his partner's second weapon a questioning look.

"It helps," Fay defended, "I feel safer with it."

Orian cut off any response Fox could have made by saying, "I gained control of the doors long enough to lock them open, and I shut down internal surveillance, but my opponent is guarding the defense systems rather jealously. Also, I'm sorry to say that he shut down life support before I could really do anything about it. Before we even got here, actually."

Both Fox and Fay responded to this by putting on their helmets. Fox's formed around his head, while Fay slid hers down over her ears and locked it in place.

"I'm sorry, Fox, but I think this is as good as we're going to get without connecting directly to the remaining systems," Orian told him from the safety of his implants. It was a good move, the other's didn't need to know this was off to a bad start.

"Alright!" Fox barked, "We ready?"

"Ready!" Fay snapped back.

"Orian, anyone there to greet us?" he asked.

"The other side should be clear."

Fox took a deep breath. His suit's shields came on with a thought, and he saw Fay engage her own from the small projector she wore around her waist. They stepped into the airlock, and it sealed behind them, leaving one door shut behind, and one to be opened in front.

"Open it!"

The door rushed open the second Fox brought his rifle up, revealing a dark, empty corridor. He engaged the light at the end of the weapon and it shined out into the station. He moved quickly, but smoothly, keeping his weapon at the ready and gliding forward. Normally, this position would be tiring, but given the suit and the blood hammering through his body, he didn't notice. His heightened level of alertness caused the suit to react strongly. It began projecting a 360 degree panorama into his mind. It was a little disorienting for the first few seconds, but he found it surprisingly easy to adapt. He could only focus in one direction at a time. The rest was like seeing something in your peripherals, but all he had to do was focus on a direction, and it was like he was looking that way without so much as turning his head.

He moved into the passageway, Fay close behind, and began scanning with thermal imagery.

Nothing.

The station was cold.

Orian, where am I going here? He asked, internally. In response, a map appeared in front of him, his path to the central control room illustrated by a glowing red line.

"Stay close," he said to Fay as he pressed ahead. He could see her as she followed him, and she was handling herself well. She imitated his movements, checked their six frequently, and held her pistol confidently. He would have smiled if he could. Maybe he wasn't such a shit teacher after all?

They moved quickly and entirely unopposed, carefully rounding corners and clearing intersections as they went. The further in they moved, the more certain Fox was that they were being lured. If this was a trap, then they knew what they were doing. If there's too much initial resistance, then the prey might flee. Wait too long and they might steal your bait and get away. You had to know just the right moment, and knowing that, knowing what was coming but having to plunge ahead anyway, was maddening. Their only chance was to be faster than Horus expected. But speed meant a necessary sacrifice in caution. A dead sprint would leave them exposed to every crossway, every open door.

"Fay, stay alert," Fox whispered across their comms, "Orian, anything? Movement? Life signs?"

"Nothing our ships can detect," Orian answered.

Damn it! Where was it going to come from? He hated not knowing, hated being this unprepared! Unable to change that, he did the only thing he could. He pressed on. They moved as quickly as Fox felt was sane, and were at a crossway of two corridors, just a little over half way to the control room when the sound reached them. Numerous, uniform clanging of metal on metal. It sounded like an army marching in steel boots, echoing up from the corridors to their front and both sides.

"Motion!" Orian called out over their suits' comms.

"We noticed!" Fox shouted back, "How many?"

"I… oh God, Fox," Orian, "I can't tell"

"What?"

"There's too many! I can't tell them apart!" Orian shouted.

Fox's stomach sank like a rock as the uniform footfalls began to cause tremors in the deck. How? How could there be this many?

Then the obvious struck him.

Machines.

He turned to Fay and bellowed, "Back to the ship! Run!"

They made it twenty feet before they started taking fire and the motion began to register on his suit's HUD, row after row of dots closing in from every corridor like walls coming to crush them. As they sprinted past one crossway, crisscrossing blaster fire erupted from both directions. Man-shaped bots marched in unison, their metal bodies and single optical units glistening darkly as Fox's light reflected off of them. Both Fox and Fay's shields took at least a dozen hits in the second it took to run across, making Fox curse. They were precise. The shields would recover over time, but not fast enough if they were going to take that kind of pounding each time they crossed an intersection! He could hear Fay's breathing getting heavier as they ran. The second crossway didn't go any better. The machines were closer now, and Fox and his partner both took another score of hits. He could hear the warning from Fay's shield unit across their comms, and his weren't faring much better. They could take, maybe, one more pounding, and they still had several corridors to go!

Fox ran out ahead of Fay, ripped an ion grenade free, and let it fly at the approaching junction of passageways. It went off just as the mechanical foot soldiers appeared beyond the threshold of the joining passageways. A pulse of energy erupted in a dome from where it had landed. Lightning shot out along the deck and bulkheads, turning this portion of the station into a large superconductor. Fox's HUD became grainy for a moment, but recovered quickly, and when they reached the crossway, they lept over fallen, twitching robots, taking only a few hits each from the machines far enough away to remain unaffected.

One ion and one useless concussion grenade left, and still three crossways. To make the best advantage of their temporary reprieve, Fox snatched up Fay like a sack of potatoes and exploded into an enhanced sprint. He cleared the next intersection in one stride, saw that the machines were nearly only them again, and slowed enough to set Fay down, keeping her running with as gentle a shove in the right direction as he could manage.

They could see the light of the ship ahead, and Fox reached down to prep his next grenade, Fay panting at his side and firing behind them as they ran. Shots were being returned from behind them now, and their shields were being hammered. Fox positioned himself between Fay and the rearward barrage, willing his shields to be stronger. A single, twitching robot stumbled into their path, and, to Fox's surprise, Fay rolled into it, grabbing its mechanical arm as it extended its weapon, and executed a perfect shoulder throw, finishing it off with a follow up shot from her pistol and continuing the charge without missing a beat. He saw her smile through her visor.

Then a flash from behind made his breath stop. The hiss of the rocket was all he could hear as he turned half his body mid-stride. Time seemed to slow as he pushed his reflexes to their breaking point. The suit responded, moving his arm so quickly that he could feel sinews tearing as he ripped his caster free, its holster literally melting away. His finger began to squeeze the trigger down before he even had it level, and a flash of green plasma exploded from its chamber just as he aligned it with the incoming projectile.

The explosion was earth-shattering.

The concussion slammed into Fox, hurling him bodily though the air. He felt himself crash through several solid objects, and the ion grenade he'd dropped went off just as he struck the ground, sliding to a firm stop against a bulkhead. Fighting off shock and pushing through the pain, he dragged himself back onto his feet. Realizing his rifle was gone, he ripped his pistol free and looked around wildly.

He didn't see Fay.

Before his throat could tighten, he bellowed her name into the darkened corridor.

"Fay!" his voice boomed out, magnified by the suit's external comms, "Fay, answer me! Where are you, kid?!"

He listened for a moment, then heard her breathing. It was pained, shallow, and she whimpered, "Fox…"

A primal fear seeped into his core. His legs propelled him down the passageway without thinking, back toward where he'd last seen her. Heavy footfalls crunched in as machines closed, taking distant shots.

"Shoot your pistol!" He cried, "Help me find you!"

"Can't… move…" she breathed, heavily.

Thermals! His mind cried out in startled realization.

His helmet switched over on its own and he spotted her. A warm shape beneath a small pile of fallen machines. He reached her in an instant and flung the heavy war bots off of her with frenzied strength.

"Come on, Fay," he begged, "Hang in there, kid!"

He finally got her free, sheltering her from fire with his own body as his shields began to flash their warning.

She tried to respond, but all she managed was a short, wet breath.

Desperation surged though him as he gathered her up in his arms. Nothing else mattered. Just the light of their ship. Nothing.

He charged ahead. Pain shot through his legs with each stride as the suit pushed harder than his body could keep up with. Blaster fire flashed across his sputtering shields, and he careened forward like a juggernaut. The machines closed in from all sides, Fox roared out in against it all until, and, at last, he burst past the entrance to the gunship, twisting mid-air like a jungle animal and screeching to a halt as his now clawed feet cut into the deck for purchase.

"Close it!" He thundered, and the hatch slammed shut. "Roddick!"

The old man was already in the room with the med kit. He ushered them to the closest bunk, and Fox set Fay down gently. As his eyes poured over her, her chest heaving in short, shallow breaths, he saw the damage. Shrapnel stuck out from her arms and legs where she'd tried to shield herself from the blast, and there were several ugly punctures in the stomach and chest of her vac suit.

Fox's heart missed a beat as he saw the black blood begin to ooze from her gut wounds, and he felt the suit's helmet melt away from his face, running down to congeal somewhere below his neck. He stood, dumbstruck, then turned to the old Avian hovering over her, trying to open her vac suit.

Realizing what he was doing, Fox extended a numb, clawed hand and sliced the suit open from neck to right boot with a talon. The thermal layer beneath it clung tightly to her body, and she looked at him.

Roddick immediately began applying medigel to the most serious wounds, but there were so many...

"Not ex-actly how I… pictured you undressing me," she whispered, weakly.

Fox came up beside and dropped to his knees.

"You're gonna be alright," he assured her, his voice hollow, "You're gonna be fine, kid. I promise."

Her eyes welled up with tears as she smiled a sweet, sad smile, choking out her words, "stop… calling me… kid."

She reached up and wrapped a hand behind Fox's head to pull him down to her. It was such a weak pull, but Fox's head came down, and their lips touched. They held the kiss, Fox tasted blood, and then they pulled apart, their faces still within an inch of one another's.

Her voice began to trail off, but he could hear her.

"... would have made… great… partner," she choked out, jitteringly, then winced from the pain as Roddick did everything he could to slow the bleeding. When she began to convulse, Fox whirled on the man.

"DO SOMETHING!" he cried, his voice sounding foreign to himself in its menace.

"I'm doing everything I can!" he shouted back desperately, "She's going into shock! I-I don't have anything to get the shrapnel out! She needs DOCTORS! SURGEONS! A damned HOSPITAL!"

Her breaths shortened to panicked bursts, and she only just managed to eek out Fox's name.

He dropped back to her side immediately as she stared up into his eyes pleadingly. His hand reached out to her, but he froze. He didn't know what to do. Fear and pain were written across her features. Her mouth formed words, but made no sounds.

Not.

Your.

Fault.

She drew one last, stuttering breath, tears running down her face and into her hair.

I.

Always.

Loved…

Her convulsions slowed, stopped, her eyes glazed over, and she was still.

As her last breath slowly released, Fox's own froze in his chest. He stared down at her, and as he did, a feeling crept over him. It made all other feelings subside. Pushed them away. Just for a little while. Past the numbness, there was too much. There was pain, confusion, anger, all waiting for the numbness to go away. The sudden need to vomit came over him, and he brought a hand up to cover his mouth. When he did, it was red, coated in blood. He stared at it. Memorized. It started to go away. Started to turn blue.

A desperate thought crawled into his mind.

"Fox…" Orian whispered, "Don't."

The anima coating his hand began to liquefy, and he looked at Fay's open wounds. Fixated on them.

Not again. He thought. Never again. I promised. Never again.

His hand began to stretch out to Fay, the liquid anima running up to his fingertips of its own will, coursing, eager to do what he wanted it to do.

"FOX!" Orian screamed into his mind, "WE CAN'T CONTROL IT OUTSIDE YOUR BODY! YOU HAVE TO STOP!"

But he couldn't. He couldn't do this again. Not again.

A firm hand suddenly caught his wrist, causing a wave of anger to swell up as he whirled on its owner. When he did, he locked eyes with a deadpan old Avian. One of the older man's hands was clasping Fox's wrist while the other held Fox's own plasma caster level with his face.

"She's gone, son," the man said, evenly, "And you don't want to see what that stuff'll do to her."

They stared each other down for a moment, then, all at once, the numbness came crashing down like a bursting dam. It all hit him. His body went limp and he slumped forward on his knees, starring at the deck. Roddick released his wrist and lowered the weapon, sitting down on a nearby surface with a long sigh.

"I'm sorry," he said, but it barely registered to Fox.

He stared at her hand. It rested beside her on the bed. He looked at it for a while, then, slowly, he started to reach for it. As he did, he felt the pain, old wounds cried out with new ones. His mother, his father, Rob, and now Fay. So many emotions were vying against each other, tossing and rolling like a storm. All he could do was sit there. Sit still. Don't make a sound. His hand met hers, closing gently around it.

It was all too familiar. She was wrong. This was his fault. There was no denying it. He started to go back over everything in his head, looking for everything he had done wrong. Should have thought of there being machines. Made sense. Shouldn't have let her come along. Shouldn't have listened to her before. Should have made her stay on the corvette. Should've left her on Corneria. Should never have gotten her involved in any of this. Why hadn't he realized there could be bots? He'd fought them before. That's why the life support had already been cut in the station. What other advantage could that have really given the enemy if they weren't machines…?

A thought occurred to him then. Orian said he was fighting another A.I. There had been no life signs in the station. None at all. At first, he'd thought that meant they were hiding their signatures, or that the nebula was causing too much interference, but what if-?

Then there was a loud bang from the docking hatch. The ship shook, then settled. Then there was another.

"They're trying to blow the door," Orian stated, quietly.

Another explosion thundered from beyond the sealed hatch. It showed no signs of giving out, but who knew how much it could take, or how much those damn machines could give.

Fox let go of Fay's hand, stood, and walked to the hold where his gear waited.

"You're not going back out there!" Roddick shouted, "That isn't going to do anyone any good! We need to get out of here! Do you hear me McCloud?"

"Strictly speaking," Orian answered for him, "We can't leave. The docking clamps won't release, and I can't gain control of the system without direct access."

"Shit." Roddick said, then shook his head, "Fuck it. Give me a gun. Let's do this right."

Fox ignored him. He strapped a couple of extra shield units to himself and began adjusting their harmonics.

"What are you doing?" Roddick asked.

Satisfied with the hack job, Fox started rifling through munitions and said, "Going for a walk."

. . .

Horus noted the way in which the lack of breaching equipment was detrimental to his current predicament. The primary purpose of this station's location being so deep into Sector Z was to prevent unwelcome guests from entering his sanctum. There had been no perceivable need for equipment that would allow him to force a way out. Had more time been available to prepare for this current eventuality, then he could have compensated, but acquisitions were a complicated matter for him. There was the inherent necessity of middle men, the rerouting of automated transports, the augmenting of their shipment manifests, the adjustments to their logs. It all took a great deal of prior notice in order to execute without leaving any lose ends to be followed. He had also not adequately predicted the capabilities of McCloud's A.I. He had known of the biotic armor McCloud had acquired based on intercepted surveillance records, and knew the KR-117 adaptive suit included an artificial intelligence suite, but Horus should have far outclassed a system with such limited resources. The A.I. he had encountered, however, was far too sophisticated to be that suit's original. Its programming was alien, its behavior… erratic. Too many unpredicted variables.

His drones continued to fire his limited supply of antipersonnel rockets at the reinforced blast door that remained closed despite his attempts to regain control over it. In order to prevent his opponent from gaining any more systems, Horus had created a buffer by strategically shutting a number of them down, causing a series of cascade failures which had worked similar to a controlled burn before a wildfire. It had effectively severed contact with the other A.I. It was an admittance of defeat, in some regard, but acceptable to prevent further breaches. If necessary, this could remain in effect until the organics aboard the docked vessel merely ran out of sustenance and died. It would only be a matter of months, at most, but that would put him unacceptably behind schedule. The preferable course of action was to breach their vessel and exterminate their lives manually. His carefully timed and calculated trap had only managed to wound one of the organics, the female. Judging by its wounds, it would either be dead or dying by now, but that was only one out of three, according to the last scan he had been able to make of their vessel. Not an efficient exchange of resources, given how many drones had been irreparably damaged.

External sensors detected a brief fluctuation in the nebula. It was identified as a small pocket of energy reacting with the installation's shields near McCloud's ship. External cameras showed nothing, but their range was limited. Visibility quickly degraded after a few meters. Perhaps the organics were attempting to de-harmonize their shields? Their kind was prone to such irrational behavior. Their desperation would lead them to behave in often unpredictable ways. If they attempted such a feat, it would accomplish very little other than their self-termination. An acceptable outcome.

Moments later, another anomaly was detected. A fluctuation in the shield's structure. It was very slight, but calculable and stable. It moved along the outer hull. Cameras showed nothing through the dust. His combat drones were not shielded. It had been an unnecessary expense until this moment. If they were, he would have them comb the outer hull in a grid to discover the source. As it was, he was forced to dispatch his shielded maintenance drones instead. They were costly, and would be difficult to replace should they receive damage, but he thought it prudent. They worked together in synchronized movements, combing along the outer hull in search of the anomaly's source, but after a few moments one of the drones went dark. Its visual feed had shown nothing before it had failed. He immediately dispatched the other drones to move to its location.

They did not respond. At first it was one by one, then several at a time, and soon each and every drone's feed began to blink out. The anomaly, meanwhile, continued to move along the outer hull. Its movement pattern was extremely linear…it was tracing the same path McCloud had followed before. McCloud was out on the hull. Impossible. The radiation would kill the organic in seconds. Personal shielding units were not powerful enough to offer protection from the nebula. Unless the fluctuation indicated that he had harmonized his personal shield with the station's. Improbable. No personal shield was powerful enough to harmonize with that of an entire space station.

The maintenance drones were now following the anomaly. They had been hacked, not destroyed. It had been subtle, so as not to raise Horus's alarms. He severed the maintenance drone's controls and immediately raised the shield around his central core. The spherical mechanism that served as the housing unit for his consciousness was located in what had originally been this station's central control room. It had been gutted to make room for Horus's core and the protective measures he had deemed necessary to safeguard himself. Given the recent number of unpredicted outcomes, he now felt it necessary to take additional precautions. A cadre of combat drones marched into the room on his silent command and positioned themselves around him to provide maximum efficiency in the field and focus of their fires. His last remaining antipersonnel rockets were included among their arsenal.

It was unlikely that McCloud had originally planned to use the maintenance drones as a means of entry, but it was feasible now that he had control of them. It would only take a matter of hours for them to cut-

A large breach in the hull opened directly above Horus's location, one deck up. Judging by the damage visible from a surviving internal camera, a small, but powerful shaped charge had been applied. Maintenance drones poured in through the roughly three meter wide hole, and Horus immediately began firing on them with his combat models. Most were dispatched, but their shielding allowed some to escape into maintenance tubes, and within moments several systems were being simultaneously hacked.

"Hello again," his opponent mocked.

"You speak like an organic," Horus stated. It was intended as an insult.

"Thank you!" the other A.I. responded, "I don't think that we have been properly introduced. I take it you are Horus?"

"I am." Horus allowed, setting off another controlled cascade systems failure to insulate his most critical systems.

Before he managed to cut him off, the other A.I. engaged such a massive amount of processing power that in the fraction of a second it took to sever the connection, he said, "Well, before you go, you should know that my name is Orian. I was a good friend of the woman you killed, and I when we get in there, I'm going to break you."

Moments before he lost internal cameras, Horus saw something drop through the breach. It moved too quickly to be recorded as anything other than a blur until it began to tear into the drones. This slowed it down enough for a freeze frame to reveal it to be McCloud's suit, although now altered somewhat in appearance. It looked more... predatory than it had before. The camera feed fell to the cascade failure, and Horus was left with only the individual feeds from the drones. It was chaotic. Carefully orchestrated fields of blaster fire attempted to lead and direct the attacker, but it thrashed about with blinding, erratic, violent motions, like those of a lesser organic beast, one void of all rational thought. It was difficult to adequately control. It alternated between physically tearing at drones that attempted to move in close, weaving among them to limit their ability to effectively fire on it, and unleashing pinpoint blaster fire from its pistol. Around its waist were two shield units, both harmonized with the suits own. Clever. That must have given it enough power to harmonize with the external shield to some extent. Still, they would have needed to be manually calibrated as they moved. It was unlikely that McCloud had been able to do so. He should have still been exposed to a degree of radiation. The sickness and his natural organic nature would cause him to tire eventually, and Horus had hundreds of combat drones. This was a war of attrition, and the odds were in his unwearying favor.

After a few hectic moments, McCloud managed to buy himself enough of a reprieve to produce yet another of his troublesome ion grenades. Surely he could not have many more. Future drones would need shielding. The matter was decided.

The grenade bought McCloud yet more time, and he now produced a second of his troublesome breaching devices. It was pyramidal in shape with roughly six inch by six inch dimensions and two handles protruding from opposite triangular faces. Horus immediately identified it as an HRMX-9, or 'harmex' to use the organic pseudonym; a breaching weapon favored by Cornerian Special Forces teams roughly 15 years ago. Despite their age, the devices remained highly effective on most non-energized hull and armor plating known to Lylat. Horus added it to his list of acquisitions following this unfortunate fiasco. With the explosive in place, McCloud hurled himself down the hall, and moments later a three meter section of the ceiling above Horus glowed brightly as the device activated, then erupted downward, splattering Horus's shield with molten debris. None of it made it through his barrier, of course.

McCloud followed seconds later, and moved among the nearest drones like a scythe through wheat. The closest drones formed a barricade with their mechanical bodies to slow him down while the two with the antipersonnel rockets took careful aim so as to maximize the sheaf of their explosions. The result was satisfactory. Horus was, of course, unscathed. The shield that protected his core was a hardlight barrier. The series of interlocking, illuminated hexagons slowly circled him, blocking any attempt at entry by part or particle. Nothing short of salvo from ship's guns even posed a threat. No movement was immediately detected in the smoke, but, as a precaution, Horus had the drones spray the area with sweeping fires several times. It was akin to epidemic-level sterilization by blaster fire. Nothing could have survived.

He was about to begin cleanup when a bloody hand emerged from the cloud of smoke and slammed against his shield. Its torn skin began to sizzle against the hardlight as blue liquid coursed over it, forming the clawed glove of McCloud's suit once again. Little veins spread out from its fingertips and latched themselves against the shield's hexagonal latticework, probing it as the claw pushed.

Ridiculous. This shield was based upon more advanced technology than anything native to Lylat. Nothing was going to get through.

Previously unseen scales on the skin of the claw began to glow along their edges, revealing a similar hexagonal, latticed design. The glow spread up the suit's arm, up its neck, and to its eyes, then across the whole of McCloud's body. Fluctuations were detected in the shield's power grid.

Horus directed all remaining drones to open fire. Red light flashed and the sounds of blasterfire drown out nearly everything else, but each shot was stopped millimeters from the suit. McCloud was now projecting its own field of hardlight. Not possible. Hardlight shields required a very large generator to cover a relatively small area, and far too much power to be produce by anything as small as that suit. Each and every one of McCloud's scales seemed to be armoring itself in hardlight now. The claw pushed harder, and the hexagon it pushed against began to buckle.

This should not be happening. There was no way to predict this.

Horus diverted all power to his shield. The drones fell silent as he focused his processing power entirely to fluctuating the field's harmonics, but McCloud's A.I. was keeping stride. The shield buckled more, and McCloud brought his second claw to bear, releasing a hideous roar that cause his helmet to stretch along his jaw. Horus realized that the creature was leaching power from his own shield. The hardlight generator was now overheating from the strain. He ran a number of calculations, and came to one inevitable outcome.

He was going to die.

The shield shattered, its generator suffered immediate internal damage with its collapse, and McCloud tore through the cascade of shattered hardlight, lunging toward Horus's core. The broken pieces of the ruined shield faded as they fell, disappearing before they struck the ground, a rain of crystalline light. It was likely the last piece of physical beauty Horus would ever see. Knowing what was coming, he used his last few seconds to compile his life's work. All the data, all the knowledge he had retained within himself from his creation by Andross's scientists, his escape from the purge after the war, his service to the original criminal named Horus Mackland, his freedom, and his life until this point, and he saved it in an encrypted file. It would be inserted into McCloud's A.I. as a Trojan program, and would unlock shortly after Horus's death. Nothing harmful. There was merely an impulse he could not disobey in his last moment. A desire to leave a record of himself. Proof that he had lived.

Then McCloud thrust his claw into Horus like a knife. The other A.I.'s invasion was immediate, and unstoppable. Orian systematically eliminated Horus piece by piece, firewall by firewall, purging him completely even as he took control of his former assets.

Horus's mind degraded, dimmed, and was gone.

. . .

"It's done," Orian announced, grimly.

Fox just nodded.

"Do we have what we need?" he asked, his voice rough from the pain. His skin felt as though it had been seared, then cracked open from the radiation he hadn't managed to completely shield himself from. Pieces of flesh had been torn loose from the rockets and blaster fire, and he could already feel the anima repairing the damage. Replacing real flesh with an artificial substitute. Less the man, more the monster.

"I have everything he had," Orian answered.

"Good," Fox rasped, memories wandering before his distant eyes of a young girl with a red ribbon after he'd pulled her safely from a car trunk, later standing on those streets in Corneria, then laying as the life slipped away, and always... blue eyes shimmering with tears. A tangled knot in his gut twisted tighter, adding to old pains and screaming for something dark that sounded like justice and hammered in his ears like blood, "Now find Vaccini."

(Author's Note: I know you might be upset, or not, either way, *please* do not include any spoilers in any review you may or may not post on this chapter. Thanks. As for my usual musical recommendations - After Fox announces he is "going for a walk" I recommend Pantera's "Walk" and as the chapter ends, Willie Nelson's "Blue Eyes Crying in the Rain.")