"I should have been here." Anna sighed, kneeling on the floor. Broken glass still scattered the floor, and she reached out and touched the drying fluid before slicking her ears back, looking up at her creator. "I'm so sorry."

"Dear, even you have to sleep at some point." Andross sighed, standing there with a broom. "It's quite all right. I can't expect you to guard me every second. No real harm was done."

"But he attacked you! And this… this meant so much to you."

"McCloud is a bastard, true. I have no doubt he would have tried to kill me if I hadn't made him step down. But I would have killed him first." He shrugged. "Besides, McCloud is all about sending messages. And that's all this is: a message."

She stood and took the broom from him, sweeping up the glass as he wiped down the counter, pushing the broken glass into a pile as he did. "What message?" She finally asked, pausing and looking at him, bare feet only inches from the shards.

"He wants this to end. Which is fine. So do I."

James was whistling when he walked into the gym, which soundly spooked most of the soldiers there. They looked up and watched him silently, all having heard about his last bout here, and weren't surprised when he picked up two swords, moving to the center of the floor and tapping his leg to a beat with one of the blades. Then he leapt into the motion, more of a dance then a fight, wearing only jeans—his feet were bare, and he hadn't bothered with a tank top.

"Well, something's different." One of the soldiers remarked, glancing at his friend, who was spotting for him.

"He's happy. That beat he's working with isn't draggy like most of the stuff he seems to listen to."

Eventually James put the swords back, leaving the gym and strolling down the hallway, not particularly caring about his state of dress. Soldiers stopped and stared at him as he wandered by, going to the elevator and taking it to the level his floor was on. He hadn't really been even trying to exercise, just to stretch out fully, get his still sore muscles moving again. He grinned to himself, unable to help it as he trotted down the hallway to his room. He hadn't felt this good in a very long time.

His terminal was making the ringing noise when he walked in, and he hit the touch screen as he walked by it, shrugging into a tank top absently as a video feed came up. He wasn't surprised when it was O'Donnel, looking haggard and grease-stained, eye-patch missing. One of his shoulders was bloody. "Damn, man, what the fuck happened to you?" He asked pointedly, tucking the tank top in absently.

"I just thought you'd like to know that your son just kicked my ass. Our asses, actually. We all got shot down. We're circling back by the armada to get new craft."

There was a long silence, and Wolf didn't look pleased when James threw his head back and laughed uproariously. "Really, now?" He yanked the desk chair over and sat, lifting his eyebrows. "And you're sure it's my son?"

"He looks just like you. And he's got an attitude from hell. I'm sure." Wolf sighed, shrugging out of his uniform jacket, wincing the entire time. "We all got downed. Would have been killed, if we hadn't been in an atmospheric environment…"

"Oh, what planet?"

"Fortuna." Wolf pulled his badges off the jacket and dropped it aside, pocketing the one James gave him absently.

"I imagine it was cold as hell. Always is there."

"You have no idea. Pigma got frostbite waiting to be picked up." Wolf snickered, smiling sourly. "Oh, your son is pissed about that. The fact that Pigma survived that beating was sheer luck."

"He was gloating it up, eh? His mistake. My son is not easy to back down when he's provoked." James relaxed back, lifting an eyebrow when Wolf studied his own shoulder, teeth bared in pain. "That happen in the crash?"

"No, this was Leon."

"I thought he was on your side?"

"Leon is a fucking nutcase. He went loopy after we got picked up, not a good leader this, that, next thing I know he has a knife." Wolf shrugged out of the undershirt, looking at the damage. "He missed, grazed the top of my shoulder. Shouldn't even need stitches but it's bleeding like a son of a bitch."

"He seemed pretty stable before you guys left for the front lines."

"Yeah, well, seems like his psych is well and stirred up now. Seems one of his old enemies is fighting next to your son, some gang-war thing, I don't even know. He was ranting. He's locked up right now." Wolf pressed a hand towel into the wound, sighing and giving James the eye. "You know, you could have told me about the fact that I'd be getting your little group of bastards back in my face."

"Where's the fun in that? Just because I'm where I am does not mean I'm rooting Andross on. Remember that." He paused. "I mean, not that I have anything against you, ok Wolf? But if I told you, who knows who you'd tell."

"The one equals ten rule. Right." He was quiet for a moment, then sighed. "Well, can I ask you some questions about that now?"

"Sure."

"Your son. He as good as he seems he is?"

"Yes."

"Is he as good as you are?"

"That's debated." James admitted. "During wargames it was a sixty-forty split toward my favor, but he was getting better, closing the gap."

"Should I assume they'll continue to hunt Venom's forces down?"

"Probably, yes. As long as Pepper pays them."

"… Should I assume they'll continue to hunt my group down?"

"Probably, as long as you're in the way. No one on the StarFox team has ever shot to kill. Just to down."

"Hm. Makes your little group better then who I work with then." He glanced over his shoulder, then sighed again, leaning closer to the screen. "… Have you ever gotten the idea you've made a bad choice?"

James nodded once. "All the time, on and off. See it through Wolf. Do what you have to. We'll go from there." He held up a finger. "Hurt my son, though, and I'll hunt you down."

"Given. All right. Talk to you later." The screen blanked, and James stared at it, then felt a wide grin cross his face. He stood and walked over to the map, picking up the blue pen and moving Corneria's forces, marking Fortuna as taken.

"One at a time, son." He tapped the back end of the marker against the Fortuna insignia, tracing the path to Venom. "One at a time…"

"Hey, Bill!"

The two shared a hug and a back slap, laughing, and Bill grinned when he was let go, pulling his headset off absently. "About time you showed up to visit."

"Just in time to save your ass, apparently." Fox grinned back. "You have time for a drink?"

"Definitely. Things on the surface are way covered."

The group gathered in the galley, Fox opening a hard cranberry lemonade and sliding it across the table to Bill, opening a normal one for himself. Falco opened his own. "So how's life leading your own squad, eh?" Fox asked, flopping down in a chair.

"Pretty good. And I actually lead several squads now." Bill grinned. "That's what I get for paying attention in tactics classes, I guess. Either way, I make ok money and the position seems to command at least a little respect. But you're right, we were getting our asses handed to us before you showed up to help."

"Well, next time make sure you paint your fighters a different color, or give us the codes to see your guys on our VR displays." Falco said. "I almost downed a couple of your guys on accident."

"Yeah, I know. I think they did it on purpose, and what were we supposed to do, spray paint ourselves neon orange as we emergency deployed?" Bill rolled his eyes, taking a drink and sighing appreciatively. "I take it being mercenaries is turning out ok."

"Now that we're in it, yeah. We were getting kind of worried toward the end there, kind of figured they'd forgotten they could call us in." Fox said, knocking back half his bottle in a gulp—he was still thirsty from the fight. "We've had an interesting time of it. We ran into Pigma on Fortuna."

"Yeah, I heard about that in a roundabout way. I always said he was a bastard."

"He's a good pilot, but unfortunately, his heart pumps poison instead of blood." Peppy said, succumbing and opening a beer. What the hell, according to their orders they weren't going to be deployed again for ten hours, unless someone hit the panic button. "So what's next for you, Bill?"

"Bah, usual shit. I lead a defensive force, mainly, but being the state of panic everything is in myself and a squad may be going on loan somewhere else, depending on what's going on." Bill wove the bottle in a dismissive gesture. "Way we've heard it, Andross has sunk his claws in everywhere, and as Corneria's forces are still building back up, anything anyone else has is being distributed around for maximum defensive capability."

"Apparently we get to go to Sector Y next." Slippy said. "I hate the concept of fighting in a nebula, myself, but there's a large section of Corneria's armada there, and they're apparently on the fallback right now and want some fire support so they can muster their strength again."

"Well, we may see each other then, I think that's one of the possibilities for my groups to deploy to. That and such fun places like Solar." Bill rolled his eyes.

"Well hey, to the Musketeers and company then." Fox said, lifting his bottle, and several bottles clicked into it immediately. "Oh… and for my dad. Wish he could be with us right now." This toast was met with silent agreement, and the galley was quiet for a few minutes after that.

James woke up with a start when a thundering pounding rattled his door. He sat up blearily, blinking, then it happened again, so he got up, going over to the door and opening it, scratching one of his ears absently and blinking at Andross, who was in uniform and looking pissy. "Do you have any idea what time it is?" He finally asked, yawning. "I was dead asleep."

"Yeah, whatever, put a shirt on and come on. NOW."

"And you'll do what if I don't?"

Andross pulled a hand back silently. James didn't have to be sensitive to it to feel the air whipping around that hand, psychic power waiting, with a hefty promise behind it.

"Fine." He closed the door, and came out a few moments later, having put a plain t-shirt on over his sweat shorts. "What the hell is going on?" He asked, making himself not growl when he was drug down the hallway. They took the elevator straight to the command levels, bypassing the bridge and entering a large dark room. "The hell is this?"

"Holographic command." Andross said over his shoulder, typing at a keyboard at the corner. "I wanted to show you something."

"… Ok…" He leaned on the wall, watching as Andross walked into the center of the room, sighing and joining him when Andross gestured him forward. "I don't see the point of this yet…"

"You'll see…" Andross lifted his voice. "Music, please." Music started pumping into the room, and Andross lifted his arms silently as the holographic generators around the room came to life.

James gaped, looking around. They were standing in the center of a massive battle, two armadas locked in combat. It was easy to see who was winning so far—Corneria's forces were on the retreat. Then Andross started talking again, and he looked back to the Emperor, seeing that he had a headset on. He was commanding his armada real-time? Why take this much interest? The battle was won…

No. No it wasn't. Cutting through Corneria's forces, working their way forward, was his ship, the Great Fox. In front of it, four fighters. Behind it, another small group of fighters—Katinan paint jobs? He blinked, watching this in amazement as Andross' cruisers changed formation quickly, Andross preparing for the shift in tactics. It was harder for cruisers to hit small, fast-moving targets like fighters, so as he watched fighters were being deployed to match.

But it didn't seem to matter.

Andross' forces were tired—they'd been on the advance for days. And that made it all the easier for the fighters to cut back and forth through the line of cruisers. Andross tried desperately to bolster the lagging morale of his troops, trying to rally them again, but for all his shouting, cruiser after cruiser blew. Toward the end, one or two went up without being touched, a broken "I'm sorry my Emperor" reaching the room before the cruiser listed, fire exploding out ports. Death before dishonor. James found himself yelling as well, hoping maybe Andross' mic picked him up, trying to get the troops to rally for a retreat, trying to convince the soldiers to come back to the main armada…

Then it was darkness. The only ship advancing was the Great Fox, and Corneria's armada was coming back into the sector slowly, the ships from Katina cutting out and returning home. Andross was kneeling in the middle of the room, headset dangling around his neck, shoulders trembling.

"Do you have any idea how many soldiers just died?" Andross' voice was harsh, choked, and he staggered to his feet, tossing the headset aside. "I was using that sector to stockpile reserve. They're all gone now. Thousands of soldiers…" He stood there a minute, then lunged, grabbing James and slamming him into a wall. "God damn it McCloud! Why couldn't you have warned me about this? My soldiers are dying right and left! The only reason you are here right now is I thought it would disable your little group, but instead I seem to have only bought myself more problems then solutions!"

"Hey, hey. Back off man." James scowled. "You're the one without a contingency plan here. All I wanted was for my copilot Hare and my cruiser to survive. That's really all I asked. You aren't even PAYING me, beyond that initial five grand."

"Fucking asshole, you really don't get it at all." He dropped James, staring. "Whether I won or lost, Corneria would have honored its soldiers lost. The difference is, if I lose… the soldiers who died serving me disappear from time. Their names forgotten, nothing but a black mark in their training logs if their names are found out. Nothing but "For those left unknown, lest we forget." Don't you GET IT!" He wove his hand toward the center of the room. "Didn't you hear them? Two of those cruisers self destructed, dying in my name rather then living in your forces capture. And they will be forgotten. We are not talking about mere death, McCloud, we're talking about annihilation. Because your fucking team wouldn't just QUIT."

James stared at him as he broke down, cupping his face in his hands, shoulders shaking, not an Emperor, just a heartbroken scientist, lost and far from home. "It isn't just about revenge, is it?" He said slowly.

There was a long pause, and when Andross lowered his hands the mask was back in place, shoulders squaring, back straightening. "No, McCloud. It's not. Not since the first soldiers joined me." And with that, he left the room, leaving James standing their in blackness.

Wolf sighed, watching the new fighters getting loaded into the docking bay of his cruiser, rubbing his eyes tiredly. He felt worn down, dragging through this because he didn't have a choice now.

Where had his motivation gone? Only days before he had been itching to get on with it, gun the engines and beat Corneria's forces into the ground. And now, here he was, his cruiser being patched up, looking at his new fighters. His shoulder still twinged; a crude reminder about the stability of those he flew with.

"This should even matters up a bit." Pigma remarked, standing nearby, arms crossed. "I've looked over the tech specs of these fighters. Next time we meet with Star Fox, we should be able to take them apart."

"It's not the machine that matters, it's the pilot." Wolf replied without looking at him, huffing. "If it was just the machine, you could put a five year old in these things and still win the battle."

Pigma shot him a look. "Are you saying Star Fox is better then us?"

"Oh, hell. I don't know anymore." He scratched the back of his head. "I'm just fucking tired ok? I haven't slept in a day and a half by my count."

"Well, you can sleep now." Andrew drifted over, reading a printout. "We're not deploying on the front lines anymore."
"WHAT?" Pigma sputtered.

"True. According to this we're being deployed defensively, so we can retire for a while since they have to conduct repairs and then our AI will move us to our new position automatically. We'll be defending Venom and assisting in the defense of one of the space stations near there, Bolse."

"Thanks Andrew." Wolf turned his back on the new fighters and staggered away, leaning on the wall as he walked and collapsing gladly into his quarters, flopping on the bed and managing to get his boots off with only a mild struggle. Defense? He fell back and stared at the ceiling of his quarters, sighing. If they were being assigned to defense, then Andross had to be thinking the worst was going to happen, and was putting them back to guard command. He yawned widely, taking his eyepatch off and dropping it aside absently, wondering absently what James had meant by 'we'll go from there' as he slipped into a fitful slumber.

Marisa steadied herself, looking up from her plants when the ship suddenly rattled, which meant the engines had gone from standby to full engage. She stood and dusted her hands off, jogging to a view port and staring. The cruiser was turning, from the view she was getting of the rest of the force. As she watched, the command ship turned completely, nose toward Venom, and moved forward at full speed, swinging around the planet and coming to a slow halt. Hiding.

Andross had ordered his command ship into hiding.

Oh, no. She stood there, hand lifted to her mouth. She didn't need to know a lot about military tactics to know what that was signified: if they were hiding, then someone was coming for them.

She moved back to where she had been, putting everything away hurridly, then ran through the ship, going to the elevator and going to command, stepping out and stopping. The high command had gathered in a circle, Andross was talking in a low voice to them, standing with them as an equal. She couldn't hear what was being said, but she heard the tone: serious, pained. Something had happened.

After a few minutes the meeting broke up, and Andross turned and saw her, smiling after a moment. "Marisa, what are you doing here?"

"I felt you move the ship." She replied stepping down from the elevator to be next to him. "And I saw where you moved it to. Andross, what is going on? Not long ago this cruiser was forward in combat…"

"Yes, well… things are not going as well right now. I want to make sure my command staff remains safe. I, meanwhile, will soon be going down to the surface to check on some things in my main laboratory there." Seeing her alarm, he held up his hands. "Relax, this won't be for a few days yet. Nothing to worry about, just making sure some projects have come along as planned."

"You sure?" She finally asked.

He nodded, waving a hand. "Go on dear. Don't worry about it. We won't let anything happen to this ship."

She nodded and left the bridge, sitting in the elevator and staring into the distance. He had been lying. It had even been blatant. Something was horribly wrong. She knew that Corneria's forces were pushing Venom's back, but had hope been lost already? Surely not…

After many long moments, she stood and keyed the floor for James' room, waiting the several long minutes then walking down the corridor, tapping on his door. "James? You in?"

He opened the door, in uniform pants and a shirt. "Hey, Marisa." He grinned when he saw her, pulling her in so he could hug her, then blinking when she clung for a second. "Hey, hey. What's wrong?" He maneuvered so he could see her face decently.

"You're keeping track of the battles, right?"

"As I can, yes, why?"

"Tell me what's going on. Andross moved the cruiser but he won't tell me the real reason why."

James nodded, going over to the maps, which now had two more printouts added on—the old ones had gotten too messy to keep track properly. He showed her how Venom had initially advanced, showed her what had happened when they'd been pushed off Corneria, and then showed her what was happening now: Star Fox was hitting planet after planet, destroying everything they could, and behind them swept what was left of Lylat's armadas, cleaning up. Venom had lost fully half the system already.

They were loosing. And it wasn't a slow loss.

She stared at the battle charts, numb. "My god." She finally said. "I was so sure he'd win."

"I didn't figure anything was certain." James replied. "Nothing ever is. I mean, by sheer hardware alone yes, he should have won, but Andross forgot the biggest piece of the puzzle—the human factor. Andross was fighting to take over; Lylat was fighting for their lives, their freedom. And in the end, they fought the hardest. And they still are."

"How can you be so calm about this?" She turned to look at him. "They're going to come for us too, James. If they find this cruiser we'll die."

"Ah, ah." He drew her close, caressing her cheek softly with one hand. "No, we won't love. You forget, I'm a mercenary. If Andross is loosing so badly his command cruiser is going to fall under attack, I can say my contract is up and take my leave of absence, and take a shuttle to the nearest friendly port. And you are more then welcome to come with."

That made her smile. "Oh really?"

"Yes. I would practically insist in fact. We'll… I don't know. Go swimming on Zoness or something. Something romantic."

She couldn't help but giggle, leaning into him. "Ok. Ok. But… what about Andross?"

"I'd imagine that's his choice, love."

Andross sighed, walking down the stone corridors quickly, Anna behind him carrying his equipment bag easily. He hadn't wanted to come down here, but it was clear there weren't many options left. The personnel still in the building saluted and cleared the way, and he entered the main room of the lab easily, walking around the huge machines and gesturing for the equipment bag.

It didn't take long to set the interfaces back up, adjusting the power levels and throwing the switches. The machine came to life with a roar, generators firing up, then settled into a peaceful idle. The room hummed, and he smiled wearily.

Of course he had a contingency plan. As long as McCloud's son was stupid enough to walk into it…

"Ok, let's take a look at this…" Fox was sitting on wreckage, a system map in his hands. The rest of the team, as well as the local ship commanders, stood around him, in the shade created by the Landmaster's shadow. "With the supply lines here cut, any remaining forces toward Corneria should fall in swift order."

"In other words, we've basically got Andross cornered." One of the commanders looked at the map, pointing at Area 6. "That's the hard part. He's got a massive defense line there, and a defensive station here." He moved the finger to Bolse. "And about half the time, there's a detail of elite pilots guarding the station."

"Hah, Star Wolf right? They're not that great. We've taken them before." Falco said, sitting on the treads of the Landmaster and taking a drink from a canteen. "Are they going to do something about that fire or what?" He pointed down the hill, at the burning fuel bunkers.

"The hell with it, let it burn." Fox replied, and blinked when in a shower of flame the boss robot resurfaced in a final show of defiance, making it only about fifty feet before falling from the skies, grinding into the sand and burning. "Man, they don't give up."

"Death throes, ignore it." Replied one of the commanders, moving to look at the map. "I imagine you boys can't be in two places at once, no matter how good you are. So how about this… We'll break out our big guns and siege Bolse Station from a distance."

"Define 'big guns.'" Slippy said over his shoulder, arm deep in the Landmaster's engine, growling about sand.

"Well, we've got some particle beam cannons. They've been retrofitted on a scout ship that's loaded down with sensory arrays."

Slippy stopped, staring at him. "That's like a sniper rifle for god, man. You'd be able to stay within minutes of orbit here and take them out."

"Yeah, but our shots are limited. After about a dozen rounds we'll deplete the energy stores in our engine and have to wait an hour for recharge."

"A dozen shots with a particle beam cannon is more then enough to blow away Bolse." Fox said, drawing an X over Bolse station. "I imagine your forces will be doing cleanup as well, so that leaves the Area Six forces to us."

"Go get'em, kid."