Chapter 7

"…What we know about the enemy is that their technology is not entirely dissimilar from ours, but their tactics are radical, and rely on surprise, so they're liable to try something new each time. The one thing which is predictable is that they always use jamming in attacks and operate by entrapment." Bill leaned over the small table between him and his officers. "We also believe they are of only one species, they possess advanced cloning technology, and a myriad of other surprises, plus they may even hold the same language as us. What does that tell you?"

Perry nodded. "They could even be from this system somehow. Who knows? It's not like we have a history on them."

"That's a possibility." Bill leaned back again. "Well, we got plenty of time to figure that part out. Our main concern is a countermeasure to their jamming techniques, and according to Fuzzy here that's been taken care of."

Fuzzy glanced up. He didn't feel at all like a Lieutenant, even though he was wearing the triangles, sitting amongst the leaders of Husky Squadron in the officer's mess and discussing mission planning with them on a first-name basis.

Still, he paid attention as best as he could, and even found a chance to put his thoughts forward once in a while. "Yeah," He said, "Our new systems should work under the thickest of jamming, though you'll get static and distortion in the worst cases."

"Good work." Bill said. "Now, does anyone have any comments or questions?"

A collective 'nup' came from the other three pilots.

Bill checked his watch. "Hmmm. OK, Goody. This meeting went pretty quickly. All right, we'll stick to the plan." He reached into a breast pocket and pulled out two datacards, looking over them as he did so. When he had finished, he tossed them to his two flight leaders. "Fran, Fuzzy, here are your sim schedules. Your flights are free otherwise, but these sim runs are important, so make sure they're on time. You're dismissed, until your sim runs, that is."

"Beautiful." Fran said as she stood. "I wonder what Keeler's got cooked up for us this time."

"You'll be surprised." Bill grinned. "It's a doozy."

As Fran, Perry and Fuzzy left the officer's mess, Perry gave Fuzzy a playful punch on the arm. "So Lieutenant, how're you holding up under the burden of command?"

Fuzzy raised a quizzical eyebrow. "Holding up? I haven't done anything yet. Just ordered the flight here and there, that's all."

"Seriously, though," Perry continued. "You've got to work a little harder on your flight than, say Fran does on hers. Your flight is brand new to the squadron. Good fliers with experience, yes, but that could be said for a few of the guys who replaced our losses in the opening days of the War against Andross. They kept burning out of the sky until we managed to keep the squadron alive at the Battle of Katina. That happened for two reasons- good leadership and the arrival of the Star Fox team. Here and now, we've got no word from the Star Fox team, so good leadership is what'll make the difference."

Fuzzy's eyes widened. "Thanks for that…"

"Ah, don't worry." Said Francine. "You'll do fine."

"Thanks, Fran." Fuzzy said. "I'll have a chance to give those new pilots a run for their money in the sims. My session starts in an hour. I'd better tell'em."

Seven hours later, Matt Keeler was stepping out from his simulator debrief session, a little disappointed.

He had programmed the simulation program to perform just as he expected the enemy would, and it had done exactly that- the situation had changed since he'd installed it, scaring him out of his choreographed routine.

He had originally made a plan to gain the maximum number of kills he could, but since so much had changed he was left with spontaneity.

Still, he had done well, topping the kill rate in his flight again, scaring the tails off the rest of his flight members with his rapidly improving technique, even despite the nasty surprises he had encountered along the way.

No doubt Colonel Grey was behind it… slipping in those extra fighters to keep me on my toes. He thought.

"Hey Matt!"

Matt spun. Randall Lynx had come up behind him, with a datacard in his paw. "How'd you find the sim?"

"Not the same as the one I programmed." Keeler sighed. "Ah well, still got a high score, so that's OK."

"Good work." Randall gave the datacard to Matt. "This is what I came here for, though. I had some spare time earlier so I asked the Colonel about your old pa, but he didn't have a clue 'parrently you'd already asked him, so I scraped together everything I could about Barry Keeler off the files I had. Hope they help."

"Oh, sure! Thanks a lot!" Matt smiled. "It should help."

"Don't be so sure." Randall said.

"Now what does that mean?"

"Well, the a lot of the data's restricted. Sorry, I gotta go prep for my sim." Randall shrugged. Matt nodded in response.

"Oh, sure, go on. You've done more than your share already. Thanks for the help."

The lynx grinned, and bounded back to the sim block.

When Randall had gone out of sight, Matt looked down at the datacard, wondering why the information would be restricted. He found the nearest bench and took a seat, checking through the card's contents as he did so.

It confirmed a lot of basic stuff- his father's birthday, species, and other miscellaneous details, as well as confirming that he had indeed been in Husky Squadron. But nothing else was revealed at all. When Matt tried to find out details on his father's service in the squadron, the datacard would query his position in the Katinian Intelligence Center and his voiceprint. Since Matt wasn't an intelligence agent, he couldn't find out anything. What was more, he couldn't think of a single intelligence agent he could trust.

Obviously, if it's this secret, the KIC will want it to stay secret. Well, I'll find time to hack it later, there's no rush.

Matt stuffed the card into his pocket and strode back up to the pilot's quarters, making sure that Benny Swipes didn't mess around with anything while he was gone.