"Welcome, my admirable adversaries, to my humble home. At last we meet face-to-face."
Andross was nearly eight feet tall, with a body rippling with excess muscle that bulged against coal-black skin. A mane of wavy hair white as snow cascaded down to his shoulders, kept whisking about in a breeze that seemed to flow freely in the chamber. An olive-green cape swirled about his ankles, and those terrifying ruby-red eyes seemed to laugh silently at them as they struggled to rise. An aura seemed to pulse from his very being, surrounding them, pressing in from all sides, suffocating any hopes of escape. Andross crossed his arms over his thick, muscular chest, and the amused grin drastically turned down into a savage frown of loathing.
"Come, come, don't be so morose," he insisted, taking his seat in the magnificent onyx throne again but never removing his piercing gaze from them. "I can spare a bit of idle conversation before we end this business once and for all. I will warn you, though--soon I may be forced to entertain yet another guest, so we shall have to speed things up to honor him."
"Oh?" Celestra's hands were crossed low over her belt, fingers brushing lightly against her laser guns but similarly never taking her eyes off Andross. "Who are you torturing today?"
"It's ironic that you should ask, my dear Celestra, because it is Captain Anilora who will be gracing us with his presence." Andross carefully measured the effect his proclamation had on the assassin, and was very annoyed indeed when she showed not a single spark of panic!
"You're a liar," Fox piped in, grasping the plasma rifle in both hands aggressively.
"Believe what you will, son of James. I daresay Peppy couldn't believe it when I killed your father--ignorance must run in the family."
Fox's eyes filled with rage, and he lifted the rifle; Celestra stepped in front of him smoothly, guns still in their holsters, face carefully adamant. "It doesn't matter what he says," she began flatly. "Nothing is going to change what happens now that we're here; that was pre-determined."
Andross offered a condescending smirk, wordlessly honoring the logic. "Quite correct. You see, Fox, Celestra has brought everything into perspective for you. Let me explain--the galaxy of Lylat set up its grand chessboard many years ago, when you were too young to understand even the concept of war. For the longest time it seemed I held your king--Pepper, obviously--in checkmate, but then his as-yet-unseen queen--" Andross offered a nod of recognition Celestra's way, and she spread her hands to acknowledge it. "--Stepped in and meddled in affairs she did not belong in. Her annoying little knights--Anilora and Bill--continued to be a constant irritation for me, and her castles and bishops--your mercenary squad--forced a play I did not expect and joined her. Throw in a few pawns from Fortuna and Zoness, and Celestra Marquette successfully rescued Aronius Pepper from the jaws of defeat, rallied, and turned the meager defenses from the Loyalist rabble into a full-blown advance.
"And so here we stand, all other pieces swept from the board, to fight the final battle for lordship of Lylat."
Celestra's attention fell to Andross's right hand, with its fingers clenching and unclenching inconspicuously at his side. Something was shimmering in the palm of his hand, obvious in the dim firelight; it was a pale, diamond-shaped turquoise gem, sparkling with potential. The assassin hadn't a clue what the jewel could do, but knew that if Andross used it in any way it would not be a good one. Slowly loosening her plasma guns in their sheaths she whispered coldly, "Maybe a totalitarian galactic society is what you're after, Andross, but that's not what we're here for. It's time for you to step down--and give Lylat's people the freedom they deserve!"
Fox anticipated the sudden movement and dove to one side, coming up in a roll with the rifle ready in his hands; Andross lifted his hand, brandishing the gem, and a beam of smoky, pale white energy lanced from the shiny surface.
The assassin was only mildly surprised and not much caught off-guard; the muscles in her legs tensed and she dove, simultaneously bringing her twin weapons to bear and firing off a few shots in midair. Andross didn't even need to dodge or deflect, for with a flaring of the malicious red in his eyes the shots winked out of existence fully eight feet from their target. Celestra didn't relent, coming up on one knee to attack again, and as she did Andross gestured with both hands to return the assault.
But Celestra was magnificent with her weapons of choice; both hands moving independently she deflected each of the Venomian lords' beams with her own and still managed to play the offensive. Taking advantage of the energy exchange Fox cocked the plasma rifle and fired.
The concentrated ball of energy passed just over Celestra's shoulder, but something was clearly amiss; as it neared Andross the velocity decreased rapidly, until at last the orb hung uselessly suspended before them. Andross was cackling maniacally, and with a casual flick of his wrist he sent the orb hurtling back toward the mercenary leader. Fox gaped, cornered, and the energy blast blindsided his rifle, sending it spiraling from his hands with a sting.
Celestra pressed forward, not glancing back to check on her only comrade and praying he would rise to help her soon. As she rushed at Andross she lifted her weapons, firing away again, and a few moments later energy passed around her as Fox joined in. Andross just stood there, sneering, his arms crossed; with a growl of impatience and frustration the assassin fired repeatedly from a point-blank range.
Everything slowed to an eerie stop, a dozen or so lasers suspended in midair between them. Celestra felt a force tugging at the lasers, and although she clutched them with all her might they flew from her hands. Her boots left the floor, and the assassin struggled under the pressure of something powerful preying on her body and levitating her into the air.
She was eye-level with Andross when he snickered in superiority, and suddenly she was carreening backwards. A gasp escaped her lips as she connected painfully with a wall at the rear of the chamber, and she slid down to collapse in a numb haze.
Fox knelt to help her to her feet, and Andross towered over them both in a roar of laughter. "Poor little fools," he murmured softly and poisonously. "You know nothing of the evil you now face, nor the enormity of your mistake in coming here. Understand that today, the faith of all Loyalists dies with you!"
The wisps of torchlight were swept away, and the throne room plunged into darkness.
"Form up!" cried Sensenic Morray in a livid fury. "Form up!"
Ragged lines of Katinan, Fortunan, and Aquan soldiers buzzed to join his Arwing, and as General Pepper's commander-in-chief glanced around at them all he did not see Bill, Katt, or even his cruiser piloted by Erik anywhere. Far off in the distance loomed Vortex Four; General Pepper was literally screaming orders over the radio.
The Loyalists were suffering greatly under the emotional weight afforded by Anilora's kidnap. Hope dwindled out of the eyes of once-proud warriors, and if not for the addition of the Cornerian and Zonessian forces from their journey through hyperspace their end would have already come. Heavier still came the blows in the absence of Celestra and the four ever-stoic mercenaries; word was already sweeping around that Keil and William were dead in battle. Sensenic Morray rose to the challenge and the panic, stretching himself thinner still in the face of need.
"Whatever the outcome, I shall make you proud of me, Gilraen," Morray swore under his breath. Then, to his followers, he roared, "Onward with me! To the station!"
They surged forward, assaulting a common enemy, sweeping up through the center behind the Fortunan commander and billowing up within range of the spindle tracking beam. The device worked madly to catch the intruders, but there were far too many and everywhere Loyalist warriors were slipping through the defenses and into the weak underbelly area of the commanding Venomian defense station. Morray himself skirted through and made a quick dive for the unguarded underside, reaching it before most of his companions and opening fire without hesitation.
As far as he could tell his shots didn't cause damage to the structure at all, but with a few seconds of quick typing he summonded a small guage to a corner of his G-Diffuser screen, carefully monitoring the strength of the defensive shields encompassing the Venomian station. Perhaps one-tenth of the guage was empty, and Morray heaved a sigh; they had a long way to go.
Continuous laser fire passed closely past the flanks of his compact Fortunan Arwing, and boosting up the thrusters Morray sped away, out of the tracking beam's radius and back toward the mass of spacecraft. His pursuers were persistent, though; glancing back over his shoulder he counted seven of the Venomians, all tailing mercilessly with firepower at maximum. Morray turned a few barrel rolls as they closed in, and the move deflected the attacks but only bought him time. Gritting his teeth the Fortunan commander-in-chief sped up and turned sharply to the left, far too slow--
--Bill swept in from above, Katt from the right, and with fire in their eyes they closed in to annihilate Morray's assailants. Never pausing to look back the Fortunan pressed onward, trusting the pair shadowing him to take care of any further threat, and as if to justify that faith they soon swept up on either side and chased him back toward the station.
"You're mad, Sensenic!" Katt cried at him, skimming his left flank and firing upon any she could catch. "If you get any closer to the tracking device they'll catch you, too!"
Bill's eyes were narrowed with intensity. "We can't afford to lose anyone else, Doc!"
At first Morray didn't answer, merely contented himself with circling the spindly tracking device decorating the pinnacle of the enemy station like some precious ornament as some poor Aquan wandered too close. The pilot's agonized screams resounded over the radio as the iridescent beam lanced away at his craft, and although those cries rent the Fortunan's heart severely he did notice something of great importance. The device, while seeking new prey throughout its fixed radius, moved so quickly that none possessed the reflexes necessary to destroy it. But with a captive in its paralyzing grasp the onyx spire remained absolutely motionless.
"An an answer presents itself," he murmured softly, and slightly altering his flight course he struck up a conversation with his two companions. "Answer me this, respectable comrades--if Gilraen were here, you would do anything he commanded of you, would you not?"
Through the G-Diffuser screen Bill and Katt exchanged a curious glance, then Bill admitted, "Of course we would."
"Spectacular. Do follow me." Morray led them in a tight circuit around the underside of the station, still studying the gruesome eradication of the Aquan tangled within the tracking beam. Now he was attempting to time the stripping process from the moment of contact to the actual ship combustion; when the Arwing at last imploded and sank down into the darkness of deep space he snuck around to the head of the battle again, sickeningly satisfied with the results. "As he second-in-command, can I trust you to award me the same liberty of order?"
"Just what are ya about?" Bill accused nervously, for he had only just noticed the arctic fox's normally jubilant sapphire eyes fixed on the spacecraft exoskeleton in some kind of grim realization.
"Listen very closely, Mr. Grey and Miss Monroe--the instant the tracking device has singled out a craft too close to its defensive radius, it will obviously become aggressive. When it seeks and strikes one ship, though, it stops moving completely." Morray hastily double-checked a time readout before him. "You'll have exactly twenty seconds to completely destroy the spire harboring the device once I have penetrated its protective field and it has fired on me."
The expressions of horror he received in response proved the pair of them understood well enough. "That's ridiculous, Doctor!" shouted Katt in a passionate protest. "It's far too dangerous; we won't let you do it!"
Morray smiled despite himself. "My dear, I am nearly thirty. I don't believe I require any permission of yours." He glanced over at Bill, who seemed disinclined to protest but very distraught by the idea. "Do not grieve so, my friends. Captain Anilora will return unharmed, and Celestra and all the others too; until that time, however, I order you to have faith."
The Fortunan's Arwing was speeding away into the danger zone before they could even begin to protest, and with a silent curse and a prayer Bill split away from Katt and reversed his direction to double back with the spire in his sights. The feline, too, sprang into action, taking a slightly different path under the circular disk of a space station and coming up opposite Bill, warming her lasers nervously.
Not feeling entirely courageous but understanding his role in this desperate gamble, Morray recklessly penetrated the invisible field that marked the attack radius of the tracking beam. Almost instantly the beam sensed his presence and leaped out to intercept him, striking his craft with devilish eagerness. A white-hot sensation flooded his consciousness, searing his every nerve with the contact and possessing his body with a mercilessly cold pain. Trembling, barely coherent, struggling to keep his eyes open, Morray forced his hands to grip the spacecraft's joysticks with all his might, and slowly, excruciatingly, he urged the Arwing into a state of perfect motionlessness. Clenching his teeth and squinting his eyes he found he could not speak for all the effort it took just to keep from crying out; a jolt like lightning bolted up his spine, snapping his body rigid, and he knew nothing outside the pain.
Bill and Katt surged forward from opposite directions, eyes fixed on the unmoving spire and the Arwing outlined against perpetual blackness like fire. The assassin came in strong, barrel-rolling past a dozen rogue Venomians and shooting down another three in his path before falling short before a mad assault of dazzling plasma lancing away from Interstellar Commander Two. Sputtering violet expletives he spun around into a somersault, only to find himself similarly cornered by a retaliatory volley from the temporary pilot of Whitewater. Katt's compact Zonessian Arwing squeezed through a nondescript opening Bill couldn't even see before one of her wings was clipped and she hurled away from her flight path, screaming in defeat.
Morray screamed at last, a helpless, pleading sound that ripped from his aching lungs; tears stung Bill's petrified eyes, and he watched in devastation as another dear friend was slowly beginning to burn before his eyes.
MOEC answered the desperate calls of its comrades, firing its third of ten rounds from a distance so great it seemed useless to even attempt the shot. But Erik Nioxin was as good a pilot as any of the men on the battlefield, and by some miracle the electron cannonfire obliterated the enemy tracking device. His body seemingly on fire Morray dipped out of the line of fire of nearly twenty Venomian craft targeting him, and somehow he even managed to fire off a few rounds of his own that freed Bill and Katt from similarly helpless ordeals.
"The tracking device has been destroyed!" called a shaken but victorious Sensenic Morray. "Attack the station's defensive shields at will, and from any range!"
Ragged lines of Katinans swarmed up from below, unloading with everything they had left, and Bill and Katt dove back to the forefront. Venomian cruisers matched the goodly forces' starships blow for blow, keeping them at bay while Arwings buzzed about the damaged space station in an attempt to exhaust the defensive shields. Erik Nioxin nodded to his comrades and turned about, focusing his efforts again on the crippled and smoking Interstellar Commander Two.
"I hope you're listening," he murmured in an eerily calm tone, again summoning up Morray's magnificent firepower of MOEC. "I hope it was worth killing my brother, you cowards; I will never forgive, as they say I should, and I most certainly will never forget. For valiant William I sin and offer you only wrath. Well fought, then, and I'll see you in hell."
Heads everywhere turned in amazement as MOEC launched its fourth assault since the battle had begun, for Erik was heartlessly obliterating the last of the two Venomian battleships with ease. Far away to the west Morray looked up in grim appreciation, but the expression changed to one of horror as he viewed Erik's uncaring face. Bill and Katt exchanged a concerned glance through the G-Diffuser screen, for while they were pleased with the destruction of the IC-Two they could not dismiss feelings of sorrow for Erik. Shouting orders rapidly to his followers General Pepper's Vortex Four at last broke through an opening and into firing range of the enemy defense station.
Despite the wreckage a roar went up among the Venomian forces; Bill glanced back, and his heart plummeted.
The four spacecraft of the Star Wolf mercenaries spiraled fearlessly into view, a specter of doom that would soon befall them all.
"You can't win, Pepper!" shrieked Wolf O'Donnel, eye shining with some inner obsession. "You'll never take Lylat from Andross! He'll annihilate Celestra, Fox, and Anilora, and then he'll KILL YOU ALL!! Who now will stand against us?"
"I will," murmured Sensenic Morray, and Wolf was so shocked that someone had accepted his challenge that he had no retort. "I will if I must face all four of you alone."
Again Bill and Katt shared a glance before the assassin added, "Let's see what ya make o' the three o' us, O'Donnel!"
But it was Erik Nioxin, still with the fires of vengeance simmering in his eyes, that surprised them all. "You four are responsible for what's happened to Celestra, Gilraen, and Fox; I won't let anything happen to my friends anymore. So here I come, respectable Mr. O'Donnel--I hope you're ready for me."
Celestra pushed herself up onto her elbows, pupils straining to take in some shred of light in the pitch-black chamber. Her smartest bet was to search for the twin red lights that were Andross's eyes, but whether by closing them or hiding he had eliminated that possibility. She could feel Fox's rapid breathing upon her cheek, hot and desperate for some assurance their enemy was still near, but nothing could be seen or heard. The assassin fumbled about her belt for the pair of deadly switchblades; there was no use in blindly searching for her blasters, for even if she found them she could not hope to shoot well in the dark.
"Just because we can't see you doesn't mean we won't find you," Celestra promised poisonously, and with a soft groan of discomfort she rose, pulling the mercenary leader along with her.
For barely an instant Celestra glimpsed a flash of turquoise, just enough of a warning for the muscles in her legs to tense before a bolt like lightning sparked in her direction. With impeccable reflexes she dove, but although she sprang wide of the blast she ran straight into a wall. Fox called for her to duck, and she sprawled out flat on the floor just as an energy sphere lanced from the barrel of his plasma rifle. This time the mercenary struck something substantial, but Andross uttered no cry of pain and again they lost him.
'Pull yourself together!' the assassin inwardly berated herself. 'Fox needs you to concentrate, so quit with the nervous breakdowns.' Stumbling forward she started feeling about again, trying to locate some semblance of direction in the darkness. Another beam fired, glancing the wall next to her and inciting a meager shower of sparks, and an idea flitted through her mind as she again continued on.
Andross could see clearly whatever the amount of light, that was certain; to tip the tables back in their favor they needed to be able see. Fox and Andross were trading shots now, momentarily drawing the attention away from her. Squinting in concentration she hypothesized Andross's location, and with a running leap she dove and collided with the Venomian lord. She judged she was clinging to his back; before he could grab her she clung to him and stabbed with one knife with all her might, shouting, "Fox! Shoot the walls! Light the torches!"
The blade was tearing through Andross's bulging deltoid muscle; he howled in rage and swiped at her, grabbing fistfuls of hair in an attempt to throw her off. Fox hefted the plasma rifle and blindly let loose a terrible barrage, ducking his head as the shots ricocheted from the walls, but he was still firing without any real aim and Celestra couldn't hold on much longer.
Andross's crude fingernails clawed down the side of Celestra's face; she shrieked in agony, and he at last snatched her forearm and hurled her away with all his strength. Balls of plasma were flying all about as the assassin again crumpled to the floor in a heap, and although she couldn't see him she sensed Andross stalking toward her. Had she not been slouched nearly to the point of reclining she may have been struck by Fox's next desperate volley; sparks flew, and the wall sconce just over her head crackled and roared with flame.
The Venomian lord was towering over her, poised to kill; Celestra lunged up and forward, plunging one of her switchblades into his abdominal region. Regaining her footing she leapt in close within his arms and tore into him with the other blade; behind them, Fox zeroed in on his target and let loose a barrage that repeatedly struck Andross in the back. He was trapped between them; Celestra twisted her weapons brutally into his stomach, and he shuddered and slumped over her, motionless.
With a grunt of effort the assassin shoved him to the floor, limping in Fox's direction and frantically wiping Andross's blood off her face. They surveyed him together, too frightened to be certain he wasn't breathing anymore; Celestra tucked her switchblades back into their sheaths on her utility belt.
"Do you think he's dead?" Fox asked quietly, and his voice quavered with anticipation.
Celestra grimaced and ventured one step forward, absently rubbing the back of her head where Andross had attempted to rip out hair. "I wish it were that easy, but something tells me he's not." Her cheek stung from the clawlike scratches; they advanced, hearts racing, eyes wide, mouths dry with fear.
They never even got close.
Andross's mangled body stirred, causing the two intruders to halt in sheer terror; soundlessly he rose, blood tracing the creases of smooth black skin over taut muscle, and although he had suffered excruciating wounds he was very much alive. As they watched the numerous trickles of crimson ceased to flow, replaced by unmarred ebony skin until his body showed not a single scar from the deadly assault. Fox and Celestra could no longer keep from trembling as Andross smirked at them and absently shifted his humerus bone back into its shoulder joint.
"My, my," he rumbled softly. "We are in trouble."
Before either of them could react a crushing force constricted around their necks, squeezing the oxygen from them and making it impossible to draw breath. Celestra's hands flew to her neck but there was nothing to grasp, just empty air and her own flesh. She thought for a fleeting moment to move for her weapons, but without something corporeal to attack she would only be slitting her own throat. Andross was watching their struggles with amusement and delight, one hand outstretched toward them in a telekinetic ruse to choke them to death.
The toe of Celestra's boot nudged something on the tiled floor at her feet; squinting down she saw one of the handheld plasma lasers that had been thrown from her grasp earlier. Consciousness dwindling, hopes failing, the assassin hooked her toe beneath the weapon and flicked it upward into her waiting hands. Shaking, she leveled the gun at her adversary's outstretched hand and pulled the trigger.
The shot was perfect under the intense pressure, striking the pale blue gem in the palm of his hand and shattering it like fragile glass. For the first time since the start of the confrontation Andross howled in agonized fury, clutching the broken diamond and shaking the walls under the sheer volume of his cry. In his loss of concentration, though, he could no longer exert his power on them, and they leaned against one another as they gasped for breath.
"So . . . that's how . . . we hurt him," Fox panted, the plasma rifle dangling limply in his hands.
Celestra sheathed her guns again, bracing her hands on her knees and doubling over. "Looks that way."
Andross straightened, hatred simmering in his ruby eyes, and Celestra and Fox shrank back; wrathfully he advanced and they knew the battle was far from over.
"Looks like we found our rogue envoy, boys," Falco informed his fellow mercenaries, and they slowed their advance to a hover.
Working quickly but efficiently Slippy summoned a detailed status grid of the single spacecraft in question. "It's listed as a transport ship, pretty outdated, and it looks suspicious skirting around by itself because its shields and weapons are several years out-of-date. Anilora is probably aboard, so we've got to move fast."
"I recommend at least some half-hearted negotiations before we open fire on them," Peppy suggested. "Anilora's life is at stake here."
Falco's beak wrinkled in irritation, clearly conveying his disgust, but he waved one hand in acceptance and Peppy booted up his G-Diffuser. "This is the mercenary unit Star Fox; shut down your engines and weapons and allow us to board peaceably, and no one aboard will be hurt."
A moment's silence came over the radio, and then came a man's voice in sarcastic reply: "Well met, mercenary unit Star Fox--move aside and let us continue, or meet a swift end."
"We don't negotiate with Seperatists," Falco muttered, running a hand down his face. "This is exactly why." Motioning to his two companions he continued aloud, "I'm afraid we can't do that; at least, not while Captain Anilora is in your company. Open fire."
This last was directed at his fellow mercenaries, who had been spreading out into a wide attack formation since Falco's signal. Now they attacked strategically, aiming only for the engines of the envoy until they sputtered in protest and died. Slippy set to scrambling the ships' weakening signals, simultaneously dispelling the defensive shields and opening three hangars leading into the small docking bay.
"Let's get going," Falco ordered, and they slowly descended upon the motionless envoy.
The three mercenaries landed in an empty docking bay, ensuring they all possessed the weapons they would need, and cautiously they started off down the hall to rescue the Katinan captain. The hallways were similarly devoid of life; all was silent as death, and a lump of anxiety rose up in Falco's throat as he realized what that might mean.
Peppy could translate most Venomian runes, quicking putting them on the trail to prisoners' cells, and because of him they could navigate a route that led them away from the busier areas of the transport ship, such as the control room and the weapons bay. They were nearly there and congratulating one another on a successful rescue mission when they rounded their third corner and found themselves face-to-face with a hulking elk-Venomian, brandishing a rusted and slightly bloody length of barbed wire.
"Well met, mercenaries," Rhazed acknowledged, crossing his arms over his burly chest with a smirk. "If you want to get any further, you're gonna have to make it past me."
"Anybody ever tell you that that thing could give somebody tetanus?" Falco accused, gesturing to the barbed wire in Rhazed's hands.
"I'd be worried about your little friend, then, if that's the case," Rhazed replied airily, and the three mercenaries bristled at the remark.
"He'd better be alive," Peppy warned, and Rhazed merely shrugged. Falco growled in rage, starting forward with murder in his eyes, but Slippy threw an arm out, barring his way.
"Let me handle it," Slippy said flatly. "I owe it to Keil . . . for what he did for me."
Falco and Peppy exchanged a glance, and with a nod to the youngest mercenary they sprinted off toward the prison cells. Rhazed and Slippy steadily began circling each other, the former clutching his weapon with a confidently superior smirk touching his face, the latter with hands dangling at his sides and something like uncaring emptiness filling his eyes. Rhazed became quickly annoyed with the lack of battle, however, launching into an offensive sequence that sent his barbed wire cracking down like a whip. Slippy lightly side-stepped the sudden attack, coming out wide and out of immediate range; the wire snapped in a horizontal arc that would have taken him out at the knees if he hadn't hopped nimbly over it. The elk-Venomian scowled, lashing out again; Slippy dodged that strike as well, all weapons still in place on his belt.
Rhazed was attacking seriously now, coming at him with a low diagonal sweep that presented Slippy with a fabulous opportunity. As the wire came down and across the youngest mercenary stepped inside, too close for any counterstrike, and swiftly drew out Keil's cyanide blaster. With no chance to move away, his adversary took the shot from point-blank range--right in the face.
Sputtering curses Rhazed rubbed at his eyes, and only five seconds later he was coughing up great mouthfuls of bright blood. Footsteps echoed down the hall, announcing the return of his fellow mercenaries, and Slippy stepped away, re-sheathing the weapon and surveying his enemy without remorse. Rhazed clutched at his chest, wheezing and gasping out, "What have you done to me?!"
"Don't torture others if you can't handle it," Slippy spat venomously, and he led the others away down the hall, leaving Rhazed to a slow and painful death.
"That was easy," Falco remarked off-handedly. He was carrying an unconscious Anilora, whom they had never seen look worse. His chin was swollen and bruised from Rhazed's beatings, and wicked, bloody tears marred his chest and the outside of one leg. These wounds had become mildly inflamed and already seemed infected. "If we don't get him to some medics soon, he won't make it."
"The nearest hospital bay is on Vortex Four, back at the Venomian defense station," Peppy told them gravely. "He can't last that long like this."
They had reached the docking bay; Slippy eyed the single-man Venomian fighter he had hijacked from Bolse contemptuously before saying, "Put him in the back of your Arwing, Falco, and I'll work on him until we catch up witht he fleet. I don't want to be seen flying this piece of junk anyway," he added, and he spat on the craft's left flank and turned his back on it.
Upon ejecting from the envoy's docking bay Falco and Peppy opened fire on it, downing it for good before heading back toward Area 6. In the back of the avian's spacecraft Slippy set to cleaning Anilora's wounds at once, heating a small knife with a low frequency shot from his fire blaster and using the high temperature to lance the barbed wire gashes and clear out the infectious material. Ice was applied to the violet bruise, and all of Falco's stored bandages were used up by the end; through it all the Katinan captain never stirred.
It was over half an hour to Area 6; Slippy wondered if Anilora would make it.
Another hazy spiral beam seared against the onyx throne, and Fox winced and gripped the rifle more tightly. In this particular room Andross's ornate chair served as the only cover; he had no idea where Celestra was, or even if she was alright. His main concern was if the throne gave, he would be running about exposed. He could hear the high-pitched tones of Celestra's lasers wailing away through the dank air, seeking Andross; he wondered vaguely how the battle was faring while he sat back, cowering like a little lost child.
Onyx flaked away from the next assault on his hiding place, and swallowing a lump of intense fear Fox rolled out into plain view and took aim.
Celestra darted by, guns extended behind her as she sprinted away from their deadly adversary and on past Fox. There was now a hideous tear in the skin of her left shoulder, trickling blood down her arm; the wound was deep and perhaps mortal, yet she was still on her feet and the dangerous fire remained burning in the depths of her icy blue eyes. The sight of the assassin, still battling despite the injury, ignited a feeling of purest recklessness within his chest; the mercenary leader squeezed the trigger, barring Andross's path to Celestra. The Venomian lord cursed and fired at Fox with the only remaining gemstone in the palm of his hand. Unable to move quickly enough he stoically took the blow square in the chest, tumbling backward and banging the back of his head on the tyrant's throne.
Andross was swooping down upon him in an instant, firing again but not before Fox got his rifle up in a blocking position. The maneuver did serve its purpose; the weapon saved his life, but a moment later he was cleverly disarmed and helpless at Andross's feet.
Celestra fearlessly leapt back in, concealing Fox behind her as she repeatedly fired, but this time every single energy bullet froze in midair as if the air were below zero. With an almost casual flick of his wrist Andross sent the bullets whizzing back at their owner at a speed twice as fast. Blood spattered on Fox, but it wasn't his; he glanced up just in time to catch a limp and quivering Celestra. Held fast by her weight the mercenary couldn't retaliate, and obviously she couldn't rise again without help.
Chuckling in satisfaction Andross bent double, snagging the tatters of Celestra's flight vest and hauling her to her feet. Weakly she batted at his arm but he didn't relent for a moment, at last swinging her around in a great circle and hurling her across the room like a rag doll. With a sickening crunch she hit the wall opposite them and slid down it to land in a heap on the floor.
Fox prayed with all his might for the assassin to get up or show some sign of life; she remained absolutely motionless, and he could not see her breathing at all.
Andross's injured hand darted out and caught the mercenary leader by the throat, hoisting him high in the air and up to his eye level. He struggled as fiercely as he could, kicking and spitting in a futile effort to free himself; the Venomian lord cackled wickedly and punched him once in the face, and the vain attempts became far more subdued. "Why do you fight it so, Fox? I would have killed you already, quickly and without any fuss whatsoever, but you continue to struggle although you know it is all without merit. Just give in to me; tell me I have won, and you shall die painlessly."
"Never," Fox choked out, no longer fighting back but not resigned to give in yet. "My father died . . . fighting you 'til the end . . . and I owe him the same. So go to hell . . . 'cause this isn't over."
"Very well," Andross acknowledged with a cold scowl. "Then you can join him." Raising his hand he flashed the turquoise gem like a specter of doom in front of Fox's eyes, and the diamond glowed, gathering energy for the killing blow.
Trembling with effort and moaning in pain, Celestra raised her head and gazed blearily in their direction. Andross's back was to her and he clearly wasn't paying her any attention; she knew she had to save her only companion, but she was running out of tricks and none of them seemed to work against their powerful adversary. Celestra didn't think she could get up again, not with blood still flowing from dozens of laser-hole wounds, and she glanced about for something, anything, to keep them from death.
Her weary eyes fell upon the single lit wall sconce overhead, flickering with flame, and the strewn tatters of her ruined flight vest just beneath it.
With shaking hands the assassin fumbled for one of the switchblades on her belt, contemplating the move. The throw had to be absolutely perfect, with enough force to knock the tray from the sconce and the correct angle to hit it in such a way that it fell upon the torn fabric. She had no other weapons; if she failed, their lives would end.
Celestra sucked in a shallow breath and threw.
The knife struck the bottom corner of the sconce, rattling the tray and knocking it loose. Her eyes followed it all the way to the floor, where it clattering among strips of cloth, adn the pile caught fire. Celestra slumped back to the floor as the chamber slowly burst into flame.
With a roar Andross discarded Fox to the floor, turning to face Celestra and the growing blaze. The double doors at the entrance to the throne room were made of wood, but at the moment that was not his main concern. There was a small wooden box at the foot of his throne, and inside he kept a decent number of corked wine bottles; Celestra had obviously guessed its contents, for she was slowly crawling toward it. Cursing violently he took one step forward to intercept her and found he couldn't move any further.
Fox was clinging to Andross's olive cape with every bit of strength he could muster, growling through tightly clenched teeth and bracing his boots against the floor as he pulled. Andross heaved away with all his strength, but Fox proved impossible to throw off so easily and contented himself with being dragged along. Swinging the rifle around with one hand the mercenary leader aimed awkwardly and fired a few haphazard shots that struck Andross in the back of the legs, slowing him down considerably.
The female assassin reached the box, pulling the lid off and tipping it over. Several bottles rolled away across the tiled floor, feeding the inferno; others she uncorked and spilled the contents all around, slicking the entire floor down with potent and highly flammable alcohol. The temperature in the throne room skyrocketed; Andross slipped and stumbled on the slick surface, and Fox took aim and fired, smashing the second gemstone in their enemy's palm. Taking advantage of the Venomian lord's pain, Fox skittered to Celestra's side and heaved her unceremoniously to her feet.
"We've got to get out of here, now!" he shouted over the crackling of the fire.
Celestra shook her head, clutching her only switchblade in a desperate attempt to stay conscious. "Not yet. We came here to do a job--we've got to finish it once and for all, leaving no question that Andross is dead."
The notion was ridiculous; the pair of them were already on their last legs and clearly fading fast. Fox opened his mouth to argue, but Celestra interrupted him as forcefully as she could, saying, "I swore to them we would fight, to the end of Andross or life itself! I will not run away, not when we are this close!"
Steeling his jaw Fox flung one arm around Celestra, supporting her as much as he could, and together they stalked forward toward Andross in the final exchange.
Erik Nioxin's Arwing joined the other three substitute mercenaries, and at Bill's command they paired off with their adversaries and the battle was on. With Star Wolf on the rampage the assault on the defense station weakened considerably, limited to anyone who was bold enough to take charge; Vortex Four, Whitewater, and FrigidFire continued beating down the Venomian cruisers, a simpler task now that both Interstellar Commanders were eliminated from the battlefield. The defense station itself was down to half its shield energy, but without the better pilots in the fleet it was questionable if they could win the day.
Bill and Wolf settled into a cat-and-mouse chase, sweeping great circles around one another, keeping their distance and trading shots cautiously with careful regard to the positions of their comrades. Morray and Leon were drastically more reckless, rapidly closing the space between them and often brushing wingtips, too close to even take shots at one another. Erik and Katt had Pigma and Andrew, respectively, very outclassed, proving better pilots and smarter strategists without question.
"At last! I've got them on radar!" crowed Morray, and he attacked Leon with increased fervor.
"What?" Bill spat in frustration, skirting around Katt and firing a pair of shots that flew just wide of Wolf's spacecraft.
"Falco and Peppy's Arwings!" Morray explained excitedly. "They're heading this way--they must have rescued Captain Anilora!"
"Thank God," muttered Katt.
"It won't make any difference in the end, you fools!" Wolf exclaimed, and his face was contorted and crazed in the G-Diffuser screen. "When Andross kills Celestra and Fox, he'll come to put an end to every single one of you!"
"Are you aware that you're still talking?" Morray asked him, and out of sheer annoyance he planed away from Leon long enough to fire a few shots in Wolf's direction. "Be silent. I have no doubts that Andross will fall this very night."
"How can you be so certain?" Leon put in smoothly, mockingly, as he barrel-rolled after him.
Morray chuckled softly to himself. "Well you see, respectable Mr. Powalski, it is because I have unlimited faith in Celestra and Fox--as do we all."
With the twin gemstones shattered in his hands Andross was limited to hand-to-hand combat, something he was very unused to from years of torturing his victims with subtle psionic powers. Fox and Celestra advanced slowly, the assassin leaning heavily against the mercenary but still on her feet, the mercenary dragging the battered plasma rifle along behind him. Andross was quickly becoming mentally fatigued, having exhausted a wealth of telekinetics toying with his prey; now that he needed it he found himself very much without it. Fox could prove quite tricky to dispose of by the end, but Celestra already seemed seconds from death and he assumed one good shove into the fire could put her down for good.
The moment Andross's eyes flickered in Celestra's direction, Fox sensed his intent. Shoving Celestra to one side the mercenary dropped to one knee and propped the rifle up against his shoulder, sighting his target down the barrel and firing. Andross made a dive to one side but passed too close to the assassin and accidently exposing his back to her as well. Bracing herself against the floor Celestra lunged, brandishing her knife and successfully severing a hamstring. By some otherworldly power Andross managed to keep his feet, using what remained of his psychic powers to hurl a ball of fire at Celestra, and instead of striking again she was forced to roll away to avoid it.
In attacking Celestra, though, he had neglected Fox; the mercenary added to the deadly knife-thrust by lancing away another shot that doubled the severity of the wound. This time the Venomian lord buckled to the floor, managing at the last moment to avoid falling into a path of flame that woud have easily consumed him. Celestra fell upon him at once, hacking and slicing with all the strength she had left until shreds of skin hung from his bones, and still he found the will and abandon to fling her away and rise defensively.
Fear welled up in Fox's chest at the sight of Andross. There was no rational explanation for how Andross had survived that, so the mercenary did the only thing he could think of--he grasped the gun barrel and swung the weapon like a baseball bat, smashing the butt of the rifle into Andross's face again and again until he fell backward.
Right into slashing range of Celestra and her deadly blade.
The assassin was a great bloody and bruised mess, fighting an impending blackness every second, but she found the courage to push herself up one last time in order to intercept. With a dazzling swiftness she slit his other hamstring, ending his mobility for good. Fox charged up the plasma rifle to its highest energy output and shot again, catching the Venomian lord square in the chest; the force of the blow sent him carreening backward into a great curtain of hungry flame, ending at last the rule of Andross, the Tyrant of Lylat.
There was no time for celebration, for the entire room was ablaze now and they were running out of time to save themselves from a similar fate. Fox knelt and cradled the assassin in his arms, making with all speed for the doors, leaving all their weapons behind.
Just before they reached it the ceiling over the doors caved and reduced them to rubble, sealing off their only exit.
"Damn!" Fox cried, glancing all around anxiously, but no other option presented itself. They were going to die; still cradling Celestra he sank to the floor in defeat.
"It doesn't matter," she told him absently, in a manner that told the mercenary leader she didn't even comprehend what she was telling him. "It's over . . . Andross is gone." At last Celestra fell limp in his arms, unconscious, leaving Fox alone with a maddening, pulsing panic.
"It can't be over," Fox stuttered between gasps. "We'll find a way out, we've just got to have faith . . ."
Looking around the ruined and burning throne room, cradling the prone form of the most courageous person he had ever known, Fox couldn't find any faith.