I

Admiral Reccal Moss entered the Harbinger's communications room, finding the technicians at work again, this time working with the actual hardware of the machines in the room. He stopped in his tracks, folded his arms, and sighed loudly. At this, the chief technician looked up from behind an open panel, banging his head on a protruding toolbox sitting on the table above.

"Hello sir," the chief technician said with a smile, although his eyes showed that he was in pain. "Ah… it may be a while before any transmissions can go through to Karzen. One of our HICs (that is, Hologram Image Controllers) had a faulty part that triggered a surge, and now we have to replace twenty out of thirty-two circuit boards in the system, boards in our computers, as well as other…"

"I don't care why it doesn't work," Moss growled. "Just get it working as fast as you can!"

The chief technician scratched his head. "Well," he said timidly, "It'll probably take at least an hour."

Behind him, a technician leapt out of an open computer panel, where sparks and smoke began spilling out.

"Make that two hours."

Moss shook his head and left the room.

An hour and a half later, after much time spent in the bridge looking over the stats of his fleet and its recent battles, Moss received a message telling him that the communications room was available. Once he entered, though, he saw that the sputtering panels and scattered computer parts and cables lying on top of each other were still everywhere. But the chief technician, looking unnaturally optimistic in the face of his superior's wrath at his incompetence, approached Moss confidently.

"We've finally gotten it so you can send a message to Karzen," the chief technician said. "Although, you won't be able to get any visuals. It will be a strictly vocal communication."

"Fine. Establish a transmission to Lord Nerome on Karzenia."

The technician bowed, and after hammering a few panels into place and smashing a few buttons, he successfully got Dictator Nerome on the speaker.

"Well?" came Nerome's impatient and dangerously expectant voice.

"Forgive us, sire," Moss said. "Our ship has had some technical difficulties, and as a result, we were unable to create a visual…"

"Never mind that," Nerome spat. "I want to know how your newest campaign is going."

Moss naturally straightened. "The attack on Katina was a success," he said. "The base was destroyed, as well as nearly half the air force's units and officers who remained during our attack on Macbeth. However, we weren't without casualties. Nearly one hundred of our bombers were shot down, and Captain Krumptin's Blitz forces suffered high casualties."

"No matter," Nerome said. "Casualties are to be expected when going against any foe. Now, prepare your fleet for the next step in your campaign."

"Yes, sire." Moss bowed. With a sizzling spray of sparks from the back of the room, the transmission ended.

II

When reinforcements arrived from Macbeth, they found a wasteland in the former base and academy's place. Black smoke streamed everywhere from gouges in the ground, while piles of rubble lay where tall buildings once stood. Upon landing, they quickly set up a temporary medical center for the wounded, while coroners were sent out to count the dead. Among the ships to land were four shiny, new Arwings, forming a V on the ground. It was Star Fox.

Once her landing cycle was complete, Krystal quickly pushed open the cockpit door, unbuckled herself from the seat and climbed to the ground. The first thing that struck her was how much worse the damage appeared from the ground. The pillars of smoke, which appeared as thin streams in the sky, were now billowing clouds, obscuring most of the landscape with darkness. The ground was littered with pockmarks and scorched limbs, with whole corpses seeming to be a rarity.

The crunch of uprooted, dry dirt from behind told Krystal that Falco had jumped out of his ship and was now joining her. He whistled softly.

"They really scrubbed this place clean," Falco said. Behind him, a cat wearing a white smock came running. The cat nurse spun around, glanced at Falco and Krystal a moment each, and grabbed both by the arms.

"What's your blood type?" the cat nurse screamed.

Falco looked at Krystal. "Uh… AB," he said.

"B," said Krystal.

The cat nurse released them both with a frustrated groan and continued running. It was clear that the situation was grim.

Krystal, Falco, Slippy and Alec walked across the scorched lawn to the medical center, where a frenzy of nurses and doctors scurried about, desperately trying to save the wounded and the dying they found on Katina after the attack. They saw the cat nurse disappear into the medical center.

"Mom!"

The four turned, and saw Tom McCloud running towards them, alongside with Tiger Dreggar.

"Tom! You're all right!" Krystal cried, both surprised and relieved. Then, with a frown, "What is it?"

"It's Dad," Tom said. He beckoned with a wave of his hand toward the ruined Air Force Base. "Come on!"

Fox McCloud lay on a pile of rubble in the Air Force Base. His body was contorted so badly that the relief crew was afraid to move it, fearing that he may have a broken back or some other serious injury. The relief crew had, however, wrapped a bandage around his head and one around his right hand. Both bandages were red with blood.

Tank Reynolds was the only one accompanying Fox at the time. He stood a short distance from the body with his arms folded, frowning.

"Oh, my God." Krystal crouched down next to Fox and touched his fur, matted down with dried blood, covered with a heavy layer of dust, and, in some places, burned away. She looked up at Tank with pleading, misty eyes. "Is he dead?"

"Unconscious," Tank said, without changing his stance. "But don't hope for the best."

Krystal shook her head and bit her lip. "What happened to him?" she said.

"Who knows," Tank said with a shrug. "There was so much confusion…"

"I do," Tiger said suddenly. Everyone looked at him with surprise.

"Well?" Tank growled.

Tiger shifted his weight and looked at Krystal. "Well, back in the park, we… that is, Fox, Tom, Alyssa, Tank and I… split up. Tom, Alyssa and Tank wanted to counterattack the bombers by finding and taking off in a fighter, while Fox and I went to see if we could radio for help.

"Then, while we were in the radio tower, fending off some foot soldiers and trying to make contact with somebody, a bomb knocked us to the ground. Afterwards, Fox didn't seem like he could go on, so I had to help him. Then another bomb went off, and when the smoke cleared, I saw Fox like this." Tiger pointed to Fox's twisted body in the rubble. "I was determined to guard Fox as long as I could, which probably wouldn't be very long. Fortunately, the soldiers scattered after about five minutes."

Suddenly, Fox began to stir. He twitched his arms and squeezed his eyelids. A smile appeared on Krystal's face, and it spread across to her ears. "He's coming to," she said.

"His back's not broken, then!" Tom said happily. "We should move him now!"

"No," said Tank.

Krystal frowned. "Why not? There's probably all kinds of sharp pieces of metal and bumpy bricks under him… couldn't we at least move him to the grass?"

"Not until he wakes up," Tank said firmly.

Fox lifted his hand to his head with a groan. His mouth moved as if to form words, until at last, he managed to mumble two words: "My head."

"Dad!" Tom cried. "Can you hear me?"

Fox forced himself to sit upright, wincing the entire time at the pain. He opened his eyes and stared at the group standing around him. He shook his head violently, and then said loudly, "I can't hear anything!"

Tank leaned over and clapped his hands in Fox's ears. Fox winced.

"Can you hear me?" Tank screamed.

"Yes," Fox said. "Not so well, though."

"Repeat what I say back to me, Admiral McCloud," Tank shouted. "All right?"

Fox nodded.

"I am a native of Corneria, but I hate the weather there," Tank shouted.

"I am a native of Corneria, but I hate the weather there," Fox repeated.

Tank lowered his voice to the volume one would use when speaking to a group of five or more people. "I am a carnivore, but I only eat white meat."

Fox frowned. "I am a… carnivore… but… I only eat… white meat."

Then Tank spoke at a normal, one-on-one conversation volume. "I learned to fly at the age of twelve by using a flight simulator."

Fox frowned and stared into space, as if thinking. Then, sadly, he shook his head. Tank looked at Krystal and Tom.

"His hearing's damaged, but he's not deaf," Tank said. "It's likely a result of being in such close proximity with a concussion bomb going off. Those things give off a bang that's the equivalent of a gun going off inches away from your ear."

"Then why aren't I hard of hearing?" Tiger said. "I was right next to him when it happened!"

"He's seen quite a few more battles than you have, Dreggar."

"Will he always be like that?" Krystal said, nodding towards Fox, who was snapping his fingers in his ears and frowning.

Tank looked grim. "His hearing may recover slightly," he said, "but not completely. You'll have to get used to him yelling all the time."

Fox groaned loudly. All turned and looked at him. Fox had forgotten all about his severed thumb, and, after removing the bandage out of curiosity, had seen the bloody stump.

"Can you walk?" Tank said loudly.

Fox slowly got to his feet, and after succeeding in standing upright, began to sway woozily. Krystal came behind to help him.

"Go to the medical center and see if someone can sew up that thumb," Tank ordered. Fox nodded distantly, and he and Krystal walked slowly until clouds of smoke obscured them. As they went, another fox, Alyssa Darien, came running through the rubble, stopping in front of Tom.

"There you are!" Alyssa cried, panting. "You gotta come quickly!"

"What is it?" Tom asked.

"It's Bobo," Alyssa said. "He's alive."

III

When Alyssa and Tiger had left Bobo in the bomb shelter only to consider him dead when the building collapsed, they forgot one thing: they had left him in a bomb shelter. It was an underground shelter designed to withstand incredible amounts of punishment from above, and withstand it did. When Bobo was left on the table in the bomb shelter, he was well enough to notice the tremors and noises that were coming in increasing frequency from the floors above. When dust began to flow in through the open door, Bobo withstood the pain as best he could while he dragged himself to the opening, shut the heavy metal door, spun the lock, and collapsed.

Several hours later, when rescue came and began looking through the debris for survivors, they noticed a stairwell into a hole in the ground, where they saw a partially obscured metal door. Once the door was wrestled open, Bobo's unconscious body fell out.

Alyssa, Tiger, Tom, and the Star Fox team visited his cot in the hectic medical tent. Aside from his left leg hanging on a sling, Bobo was surprisingly unhurt. Most of his visitors looked worse than he did.

"Hey buddy," Tom said with a smile. "How are you?"

Bobo tried to make a return smile. "Alive," he said.

"And the leg?"

"Dead," Bobo said with a laugh. Then his smile disappeared, and he looked down. "Yeah, they're going to have to amputate it. The whole thing. All the way to the hip." But he looked up again, and a smile, brighter and braver than before, lit up his face. "But hey, they're gonna replace it with a really cool robot leg! State-of-the-art! And guess who's gonna be footing the bill for that one? I tell ya, nothing's better than government-funded treatment!"

Tom laughed. His friend was resolutely positive, rarely showing somber emotions, even when his leg was going to be taken away.

Outside the tent, pilots began running, shouting and beckoning to others behind them. Falco raised an eyebrow. Tom frowned, and ran outside to see what it was. He tried to ask the pilots what the deal was, but in the midst of heaves of breath as answers, he caught the names of a few commanding officers he could ask. The sky was already lit up with bright blue streaks as ships, large and small alike, left the planet.

Tom caught up to one commanding officer, standing at the bottom of the ramp of a heavy fighter that had not yet taken off.

"What's going on? You guys have hardly been here at all! Those patients aren't even close to recovering!" Tom shouted, breathlessly.

"We're not taking down the medical tents, and we're leaving a sufficient number of personnel behind to care for the patients," the officer said. "But we've received an urgent distress call, and must respond to it immediately."

"Distress call?" Tom said with a frown.

The officer nodded. "Fortuna. Whatever did Katina in earlier today is preparing to do the same there."

IV

About thirty minutes after the distress call was sent, reinforcements, composed of eighty percent of Lylat's Air Force, arrived out of hyperspace near Meteo, the broad asteroid belt between them and half the system's planets, including Fortuna. This planet in particular was remarkably close to the asteroids, and in fact could be seen as a tiny blue sphere in the distance.

The communication link on every control bridge on every major frigate beeped, followed by a message from the command ship. "All squadron units report."

"Cornerian Republican Squadron standing by."

"Sea Dog Squadron standing by."

"Katina Air Force Squadron standing by."

"Lylat Patrol Squadron standing by."

"Legendary Squadron standing by."

"Green Space Monkey Squadron standing by."

"Desert Hawk Squadron standing by."

With all squadrons in (except for the Fortuna National Guard Squadron, which was scrambling to protect its planet at that very moment), the command ship gave the next order. "Assume standard asteroid maneuvering tactics. Program your turbolasers accordingly."

Seven green lights on the command ship's main console showed that seven squadrons acknowledged that command. The assembled fleet proceeded to fly into the chaotic mess of ever-tumbling rock and metal and ice. Streaks of red energy could already be seen, followed by tiny explosions of asteroids being vaporized or turned into small, harmless pieces.

The fleet was several miles into the asteroids when the stragglers of the fleet finally entered. The larger frigates were beginning to encounter large asteroids, and as these required just about every turbolaser on a single frigate, fighters began to stream out of their docking bays to take care of the smaller asteroids that still presented a hazard to the frigates.

Suddenly, and without much warning, another fleet appeared. Behind every floating rock that the fleet could see came an alien ship, small, medium, large, and all were designed to handle debris during battle. The other fleet descended on the first, bombarding it with everything it had, from torpedoes to concussion bombs.

"Mayday, mayday!" came the unanimous cry to the stragglers behind them. "We are under attack! Repeat, we are under…"

But the transmissions did not go very far; the asteroids were too numerous, and the alien fleet had successfully jammed all transmissions within a thousand miles. And by the time the stragglers had noticed that something was wrong, the alien fleet had closed in around them, darting in and out of cover, weaving between asteroids as they took out ship after ship.

The command ship, the others saw, was gone. As hundreds of tiny fighters buzzed about it like insects, the ship struggled to bring them down with its turbolasers, and failed to protect itself from the threat of the asteroids. A large one slowly descended upon it, heading straight for the control bridge. The shields were exhausted in an instant, and the hull caved in on itself.

The fighters were already dwindling. More explosions than stars could be seen at one instant, and as orders were frantically given for the fighters to return to their designated docking bays, the officers saw that there was no time, and that their own fate was uncertain, and instead gave the orders for the frigates to depart.

This was no easy task. The fleet was still surrounded by asteroids, and the enemy's attacks were hard and persistent. One frigate of the Green Space Monkey Squadron, piloted by a particularly fearful captain, actually attempted the jump into hyperspace. Whether it collided with an asteroid or its computer system sensed an impending collision and brought the ship back so quickly that the artificial gravity pulled it apart, the others could not tell, but the frigate, without so much as an explosion, was instantly blown into subatomic particles.

By now only three frigates were left, and a trivial number of fighters, most of which were actively being captured by the alien fleet. The first frigate, part of the Desert Hawk Squadron and the stragglers, was heading back the way it came. Its turbolasers were all focused on the enemy fighters around it, and was being bombarded by asteroids. Its shields were gone, and its hull peeling away in pieces; the enemy could see that the ship was at its end. The interceptor fighters pulled back, and a single bomber flew over the ship, dropped a bomb near its engines, and left a brief billow of flame before the ship's fuel and internal atmosphere were depleted.

The other two, both of the Cornerian Republican Squadron, bravely continued their fight inside the asteroid field. They had succeeded in bringing down a good number of enemy fighters, but many more had taken their place. At last, a pair of ion frigates came into the scene, and when the enemy fighters turned to protect the ion frigates from the asteroids, The Cornerian Republican frigates knew their struggle was at an end. A bright energy beam erupted from each frigate, boring into each Cornerian Republican frigate. A brief flicker of shield could be seen; then glimmering pieces of metal as the beams cut through the hull, frame, interior rooms and halls, and then, the engine.

First one, then the other, exploded violently, taking out several enemy fighters and small asteroids with it. After a quick search, the alien fleet left the asteroid field and returned to Fortuna. One mission accomplished, they aimed to complete another.

The Air Force was defeated; now, the system.