Chapter II
"Homecoming" + "Wakeup Call"
"Approaching Cornerian orbit. All ships report green. Watch for space debris on launch," ROB droned over the loudspeaker.
Slippy had been toying around in his workshop, not doing much of anything except to keep his hands busy. Tweaking a few unfinished projects here and there, cleaning up his workbench, getting his tools in order, anything to take his mind off of what was coming.
Of course, that blissful ignorance had been cut short by the (arguably unwanted) announcement from the ship's AI, though it wasn't exactly the fault of the robot. It wasn't like it could understand emotion or social cues anyway.
Slippy recalled Krystal's first boarding of the ship, and his amusement of ROB putting Fox on the spot when it came to the vulpine's less-than-subtle infatuation of the vixen.
Now, however, wasn't the time for that. The toad let out a small sigh, closed up his tool chest, and walked to the door of his workshop. He took one last glance around before the lights went dark, and the door slid shut with a faint hiss.
As the toad stepped into the hallway, he spotted Fox, Krystal, and Falco heading toward the armory just past him. He joined the walking group, getting his fair share of pre-mission banter as the four of them made their way into the armory.
Once the door opened and the lights faded on, all light-hearted nature had come to a screeching halt.
Inside the rectangular room at the end of the hallway was a large, all eyes turned to a holographic table displaying a 3D view of Corneria, which had an alarming amount of small red dots orbiting the planet.
The way the bogeys operated almost seemed unnatural, like they weren't even piloted by living beings.
Eyes unmoving, Falco called the bridge.
"Hey… Peppy? Tell me ROB knows that ain't space debris."
The hare's voice came back a moment later.
"It's as bad as it looks. Thankfully we won't be having to do much of the cleanup, this time all we need to do is get down to the surface to take out the radar jammers. Then we'll let the CDF handle the rest."
"Can we use the drones this time," Slippy piped up.
Falco rolled his eyes.
"If I get locked by a drone again I'm shootin' it down."
Getting targeted by your own UAV was an understandable issue, one that Slippy got to correct at a breakneck pace a few months ago.
"Use the drones if you have to, otherwise we'll be going in as normal," Fox interjected.
"I'm seconding that. A pretty good chunk of the aparoids are infected ships, so who knows what they'd do with the drones."
"Sorry, what?"
"You heard right," Peppy continued. "Aparoids can infect anything that moves and absorb it into the hivemind, so if you get one on your ship you'd better get it off quick. Once it bites down, you won't have time to get loose."
'Who knows how many people on the surface got bit?'
That was something Fox really didn't want to think about, so he put it aside and headed for his locker.
The team quickly pulled on and zipped up their flight gear, one by one heading to the far end of the room with a helmet under their arm. Fox was the last to enter the pressure chamber, glancing at all of his teammates before shoving the helmet over his head. Falco reached up and gave his visor a playful smack. Fox returned the gesture, feeling the suit around him expand as the air thinned out.
Moments later a chime rang out before the door to the hangar opened, and the four of them jogged over to their respective fighters. As each pilot climbed into their cockpit, the list of preflight procedures went underway.
The vulpine leaned back into his seat, tapping the side of his helmet to link it to the ship. Four holographic displays surrounding his cockpit faded into view.
"Comms," Fox called out, hitting buttons on his control panels as his teammates responded.
One by one the other three sounded off, before appearing on the holographic display. A series of gauges and other indicators flashed green, informing Fox that he and his crew were ready to roll.
"Alright, cut us loose, Peppy."
"Off ya go," came the hare's voice.
The arwings rocketed back out of the ship's hangar in rapid succession, trailing a vibrant blue glow behind them.
The harsh acceleration pinned Fox to his seat, an experience he would never get tired of. The four of them headed straight for the pale blue ball in front of them, flying down into the atmosphere as flames lapped up the side of their ships.
"Lowest kill count pays for dinner after this is over, deal?"
Fox knew how to keep his team's morale going. Having small competitions on the job was one way of doing just that, this time especially since they'd eaten nothing but rations for the past month.
The reception of different variants of "you're on" through the comms was all he needed to know.
-{=}-
July 2nd.
I woke up this morning a little before 7, something completely unheard of given my typical sleep schedule. Normally I would be sleeping in, rolling out of bed in my pajamas, and eating cereal at noon while the quiet rush of the air conditioner droned on throughout the house.
I don't think there's even been a day where I'd wake up to it being this eerily silent.
No cars passing on the street outside, no microwave in the kitchen buzzing, no neighbors outside mowing their lawn; but most notably, no air conditioner.
In the middle of summer.
Our AC had gone out only once before, and the two days that we had to live through without a stream of cold air rushing from the vents were brutal. I remember sleeping in the basement one day, then crashing at a friend's place the next just to beat the heat.
Now though, it wasn't the AC itself that worried me, it was the fact that there was no power running to the AC, which could only mean one of two things. Either A, the local power grid got levelled, and everything would switch to a backup grid, or B, the AC had actually gone out again, in which case I was kinda shit outta luck in terms of warranty.
I wonder if whoever's invading the planet has a customer service department. One where I could roll right up and complain about their reckless invasion tactics, and how it mildly inconvenienced me on a hot day in July.
Oh, right. They're invading.
I silently got up, still unsure if whatever was about to doom the planet was nearby.
Flicking the light switch revealed no change in the darkened environment, ruling out option B. No customer feedback from me, I guess.
Assuming the backup grid is still intact, restoring power to the house would mean taking the car to the facility downtown, likely breaking and entering said government-owned facility, and flipping a switch. It might not be that simple, but who's here to correct me?
No, really. Who is? The silence outside is starting to bug me.
Maybe there's more than that small handful of people that didn't make it onboard the transport ships, building a secret civilization out of sheet metal in the middle of nowhere that's named after a gemstone or something like that. One with a radio station and everything.
Regardless of who is or isn't out there, the journey needs to start with me going up those stairs across the room, and leaving the dark, comforting solitude of my basement.
Fuck.
If I don't go out there, nothing (or no-one) will know I'm in here, so I should stay put. But, if I stay put, nobody will know to look for me, except maybe my parents who are probably glaring daggers at that moose that trampled me.
I will forever hold a vendetta for that, whoever you are. Mark my words.
Seeing as how I was already hungry for whatever would still be left in the fridge, team "leaving the basement" won.
As I crawled up the stairs, my eyes strained as they adjusted to the light. The morning sky in the windows shined a deep, vibrant blue, painted with the golds and pinks of a summer sunrise. Maybe I could just stay here, laying against my living room floor as I looked up at my own patch of sky. So far it seems to beat knowing what lies below the horizon, as Schrödinger's city could either be completely fine, or completely not fine.
Cautiously, I poked my head above the living room window, and looked at my neighborhood.
"Ho-ly shit."
That was the first thing I said out loud after I first got home yesterday, and it probably wouldn't be the last time I'd say it. I could already tell things were going to get worse before they got better, and I'd have to act fast if I wanted to stay alive.
While the majority of buildings received little to no damage, a pretty good chunk of them were either levelled in what appeared to be a bombing run, flattened by a downed aircraft, or the source of several plumes of thick, black smoke in the distance.