--Author's note: Thank you again to those that review. Enjoy Chapter 4 everyone!--

CHAPTER 4
Memories and Intruders
The next morning, Great Fox
0923 hours

It wasn't the first time I'd awakened to a searing pain. Some people wake up to the smell of coffee, some to a lover's embrace, some to an alarm clock. Me, I wake up to pain. For pretty much every one of the few dozen scars on my body, I can tell the story of waking up from some near-death experience relating to it. Blood loss, shock; if it's in a medic's handbook, I've had it. I would have preferred a pretty nurse standing over me, but I guess Fox would have to do. Certainly better than some of the hellish sights I've woken up to.

I blinked and looked around, surprised to be waking up at all. After the warzone that fell on Corneria City, I thought it was over. I remembered the sweet smell of ozone from the machine gun and my mathematical worries that the targets were multiplying faster than they were dropping, then a laser that came too close for comfort. I felt the familiar burn, looked down at my own blood, then...

"What happened?" I rasped on a dry throat. "How long have I been out?"

Fox handed me a cup of water from the table by my bed and looked at me with an almost fatherly concern. I knew the look well. Guilt was one of the more identifiable traits in a person's face. I raised my eyebrows expectantly and gulped. Water never tasted so good.

"Only overnight," he answered, sitting on the foot of the bed. "You took a hit in the shoulder. Lost a lot of blood. Pepper apparently called ROB here on the Great Fox and told him to back us up. I had him drop the Landmaster, and I blew us out of there."

I gingerly touched my tightly-bandaged shoulder and grimaced at the sharp sting. Fox wasn't a bad medic. "Pepper's all right. I knew he'd come to his senses eventually. Let's hope Tharan doesn't find out."

"Yeah."

"So you managed to make it out of that shit storm while carting my ass around? I'm impressed." I added, "And thank you."

Fox blinked, surprised, and shook his head. "Don't say that. You wouldn't have even been in danger if I hadn't..."

"Stop it right there," I interrupted. Sometimes, he was more annoying than an Army private during basic. "I don't want to hear that crap anymore. You hauled me under heavy fire out of a combat zone. In the military, you'd get a medal for that."

He nodded and seemed to buck up a little. Frankly, I was impressed he was still sane, much less operating smoothly. It's not every day a guy is attacked by every mercenary in the known universe. It was almost humorous to watch his reactions to my previous statement, just like his reaction back in the base when I told him I was coming with him. In Dagger, and in most of the military in general, some things are just second nature. Friends and comrades are like an extension of our own lives, and we protect them as such. Brothers in arms are sometimes stronger than brothers of bloodline.

"I set a course for Fortuna," Fox said. "You still want to go to your little hideaway there?"

I nodded. "We'll be safe there, I think. Safer anyway. You find out anything else about our friends back on Corneria?"

"A bit. I'll get it all together, but you need to rest for now."

Much worse than an Army private. I rolled my eyes. "I'm fine. I've taken worse."

"I don't care. Recuperate. You have a line to ROB there if you need anything. I'm setting up a sentry gun outside the door, so don't even think about leaving."

"I know how to bypass those!" I called after him as he left, though I knew he was kidding. White infirmary walls...like a second home to me by now. I felt annoyed at being incapacitated, but I figured I should soak up the rest while I could. I had a feeling there wouldn't be much in the near future.

One thing about Fox, at least he didn't skimp on the medical supplies. That says a lot about a commander. He had a full stock of MedTac patches; squares of adhesive gauze with sticky blue muck on it that sped up the healing process exponentially. Saved a lot of lives out in the field. I had the medic try and explain how it worked one time, but I ended up with a headache. All I cared about was that it made the hurt go away. By that night and my second patch, a new scar for my collection had formed and I could swing my arm like a baseball pitcher.

It was my turn to borrow from Fox's closet. I hesitantly pulled on one of the flight jackets and grimaced. My guys would laugh their asses off if they caught me in a flyboy's suit. But I had no time to be choosy, and style wasn't my biggest worry. With Fortuna still more than a day away, we had to make plans before we arrived. Of course, Fox still said I needed to recuperate, but the mercs wouldn't wait for me to be peachy again. It wasn't my first time aboard the Great Fox, so I showed myself to the armory and called him there.

The infirmary and the armory were definitely the two most stocked areas of the ship. I'd hire Fox as my interior decorator any day. The heavy door needed an access code to get through and led to a room the size of a nice studio apartment with racks of guns, crates of ammo, and a huge tabletop electronic map in the middle decorating it. It was a major disappointment to lose the stash I got from Jack, but Fox's armory was an acceptable replacement for the time being.

"All right," I said, getting right down to business. I tossed the patch Fox ripped from the merc's sleeve down onto the map table and leaned on my elbows. "Let's go over what we're dealing with here....Fox?"

He kept glancing over his shoulder at the door and finally looked at me. "Sorry. Just something weird about the door."

"What?"

"The keypad cover; I always snap it closed. When I went to punch the code in, it was up."

"So you slipped up last time. Don't get overly paranoid. You have security, right? ROB would've known if anyone tried to come on board."

He nodded and leaned on the table as well. "Yeah. Ok, go ahead."

"Anyway, here's what we have." I tapped the patch. "The Arcothans went after you in the subway. Hardly surprising. I wasn't even surprised they attempted a daylight attack in the middle of the city like that. But what is surprising is that the Arcothans weren't the only guys up there. I saw at least five different tags on the ships. Cutthroat, power-hungry, warmongering merc groups all working together."

Fox pulled a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and tossed it on the table. "Here. I printed this off MercNet. It's this little network where the shady types go to post job offerings. I don't use it, but I keep tabs on it. It's exclusive, but Slippy managed to hack into it, so they don't know I have access."

I unfolded the paper and frowned as I read the short message and list of names. It was a post by an anonymous user, obviously the same guy from the infamous video, about the hunt for Fox. It offered an advance of ten thousand credits to any group expressing interest. Even worse, below it was a list of mercs that had agreed to a temporary alliance. Just reading the names, I knew they were the same playmates we had on Corneria:

The Arcothans

Ice Storm

The Viper's Kiss

The Warriors

Corneria's Curse

The Bloodhounds

Star Wolf

The Wraiths

I let out a low whistle. Those were eight of the top mercenary groups in Lylat. A few, like Star Wolf, only had a few members, but most were huge, with members ranging from at least fifty to three hundred. None of them were groups that I'd want to invite home for the holidays either, and all were monitored by the Army. They were murderers, pirates, assassins, terrorists, raiders, slavers, thieves, and any synonym in between. And they were proud of it. I knew all this first hand. It wasn't my first run-in with some names on the list. The Arcothans and Ice Storm both especially had a place in the vengeful part of my heart. Jack would kill to have a crack at them. Guess I'd do it for him.

"It's bad," Fox said, swallowing and strumming his fingers on his arm. "If they're working together, we don't stand a chance. And those are just the ones who are allied, not including the random hunters everywhere. And not including this Black Scythe asshole running the whole thing. I was thinking earlier that we could attack instead of waiting around, but..." He trailed off.

He was freaking out. Understandable, too. I sat at one of the stools around the map table and gestured for Fox to sit as well. "Fox, I want to tell you a story. You already know about me; about my time as a private during the war, how I was recognized as specops material after leading that jailbreak when I was captured, all that. If there's one thing I've learned, it's that combat is unpredictable, but the more in your control it is, the better. You get it?"

He stared at me for a second. "No."

It was hard explaining this stuff, so no surprise there. "It's like this: I did all those 'special' deeds because I was never intimidated. Combat rarely has to do with the size of your army. And I was never intimidated because of the story I once heard of the first Dagger. They were a Special Forces group that had formed before the war, and were pretty much useless. The galaxy was at peace, and they spent their time with a crappy budget doing nothing but training. They weren't even called Dagger. It was something like Division Seven, Squad One. Anyway, a few months before the war, they started receiving missions. All the training finally paid off with these little assignments, but there was something bigger in the works. Not many civilians know how close Lylat came to losing that war the day it started.

"The squad discovered Andross's whole plan to take over Lylat, but there was more. Andross was a genius, of course, and he had hidden a single missile silo in a small, impoverished city on Venom. In the missile payload was the largest EMP yield ever seen in a missile. He knew the Cornerian military missile countermeasures, and knew that if he launched it at Corneria, it would be shot down somewhere past Solar. He was counting on this. During his final days working for Corneria, he set up dozens of 'weather relay' stations on every planet in preparation for this. In reality, they would absorb and augment the missile's blast once it was shot down. Every ship and security system in the galaxy, except his protected fleet, would be disabled and vulnerable."

Fox's hung jaw told me he hadn't heard of this before. I didn't think he would have. It was top secret, and a miracle that I even ever found out.

"Dagger found this out," I continued. "The Cornerian Army was in chaos. They hadn't needed to prepare for combat for so long, and everything was in disarray. At the last moment, Dagger stood for the bravest and most inspiring act I've ever heard of. Operation Dagger, which gave them their name, involved this squad of twelve soldiers being inserted by dropship in the middle of this hostile, enemy-fortified city and assaulting the missile silo. There were thousands of soldiers in that city, not to mention pissed off citizens with guns. But they did it. After hours of non-stop hell and losing eight of their men, they did it. The silo blew, they hijacked an enemy ship, and got out of there. And you know what the best part is?"

Fox looked like a kid waiting for the end of a fairy tale. "What?"

"This was not an assigned mission. The soldiers of Dagger did this on their own plans. And because of its secrecy, there were no medals, no parades. The four survivors returned and got some rest before fighting in the war. This story can help us here."

Fox nodded slowly for a moment before speaking. "Intelligence, motivation, fervor...all important aspects of combat."

"Right. They fought for their homeland, their families, their lives, what they saw as a true good. Soldiers like that will always have the advantage over those who fight for some shadowy figure offering them money. You are now fighting for your life, and nothing else. Remember this, Fox: There are two sides to every conflict, and sometimes, we don't choose to start it. Regardless, you have to accept it if you're attacked. While you're busy dwelling on their size and their power, you're wasting time that could be used to strike at them. The first Dagger could have dwelled on the power of Andross's secret weapon, but they acted intelligently and diligently, and they won. We're both fighters, Fox. The mercs started a war. Let's give them one."

A little grin pulled at the sides of his muzzle, and I grinned back. Sometimes, the prospect of kicking the asses of those who fucked up your life is just too appealing to keep a straight face. It was good to see there was still some fight in him. He nodded, looked up, and said, "What did you have in mind?"

I tapped the piece of paper with the list of mercs on it. "First rule of guerilla warfare: use our enemy's weaknesses as our strengths. They're big, so they're slow and we're fast. They're powerful, so they're easily traceable and we're elusive. They're arrogant, so they're lazy and we're alert. Last thing they'd expect is for us to take the fight to them. So take any opportunities to strike, and we use them to find our mysterious Black Scythe guy on the video."

"You make it sound easy."

"Not easy, just better than sitting around. Have your little robot buddy download the video from the CA files."

Fox nodded and went to the comm by the door. "ROB, we need you to get a file off the Army database."

No response.

"ROB, come in. Are you there?"

Still nothing.

After a few more attempts, he swatted the box as if that would magically bump everything back together and shook his head. "There better not be anything fried in him. I don't know how to fix him, and God knows where Slippy is."

"Where is he?"

"Bridge. Come on."

As we walked through the plain metallic corridors to the bridge, I asked, "What does ROB stand for anyway?"

"The name of the company that made him: Ronson-Orosthil Bionics. Model 64. Not the most creative name, but it works. Why?"

I shrugged. "Just wondering. I didn't know if you were the type to give things symbolic names or something."

"I called my Arwing Lightning for awhile, but then it got struck by a bolt a couple years ago, and it made me all superstitious. Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Name things."

"Oh, no. Not really, no."

Subtlety was one of my developing traits. He narrowed his eyes at me and I finally rolled mine back and said, "I named my first gun Black Beauty. You tell anyone, I'll kick your ass from Corneria to Venom and back."

He laughed all the way to the bridge, but stopped abruptly when we encountered Mr. Bionics himself. ROB stood at the huge window, staring blankly out into space. I wasn't a technology expert, but even I knew when a robot was off. Fox approached him, saying his name, and examined his power supply. I looked over his shoulder and saw that it was on. When in doubt, go back to primal instincts. I walked up and bopped the robot upside the head.

I yielded more success than Fox hitting the comm box. The back plate of the headpiece fell off and clattered to the deck. I knew from Fox's expression that it wasn't desirable. Things like that were screwed in with a death hold. He peered inside the robotic brain and plucked a little coin-sized white chip from the mess of wires. Not a moment later, a shower of sparks burst from the opening, sending us reeling back, and ROB's eyes lit up with "life."

Someone had tampered with ROB. I drew my sidearm and immediately faced the door. Fox did the same, but the cheeky bastard glanced down at my gun and grinned slightly. "Is that Black Beauty?"

"Shut up."

ROB swiveled and faced Fox as if nothing had happened. Apparently he didn't care that chunk of his head fell off. He spoke in that robotic monotone that grated on my nerves. "Good day, sir. Can I help you?"

Fox held up the small chip. "ROB, what is this? Who put it in you?"

"MacBethTech model 0457 memory suppressant, price: one-thousand credits. Three percent more effective than model 0456. Known side effects: instability in models earlier than five years, overload, melting, and power shutdown."

I gaped. "Wow. How did he know all that?"

"Slippy installed a scanner since you were last here. It links to every library and technological database in the galaxy. Newest technology."

The call of duty beckoned me away, but I loved tech stuff. Just because I didn't understand it didn't mean I don't like playing around with it. I couldn't resist. I held up my pistol. "Hey ROB, what's this?"

The head swung in my direction. "ArmaCorp model X97 energy sidearm, standard issue Cornerian Army Special Forces. Weight: 1.05 keratons. Muzzle velocity: 467 feet per second."

"That's so cool. He must be handy to have around. What's the recipe for chocolate chip cookies?"

"Mix one cup sugar with four tablespoons of—"

"Alright!" Fox snapped, pulling me away. "That's enough. Toy around with him later. ROB, what's your last known memory?"

I put on my game face as ROB spoke up again. Fun could wait. After a moment, he said, "Unknown dropship approaching the Great Fox. No response. Security system override. Intruder approaching the bridge. Name: Andrea O'Donnell. Species: Gray wolf, female. Age: twenty-five. Intruder infiltrating bridge. Self, head, fourth quadrant port open." He stopped.

I took that as a cue that he was done. "ROB, where is this intruder now?"

"Unknown. Sensors and cameras clear."

Fox grimaced and kept his eyes on the door. "A dropship put a merc on board, and she tried to erase the memory of it with this chip. Assassin?"

"Bombs maybe. Andrea O'Donnell. Wolf too. You don't think...relative of Wolf O'Donnell?"

"Star Wolf's name is on the list. Could be. Whoever it is, we need to find her."

My mind went back, assessing what I'd seen since I'd arrived on the ship. What would I do if I was sent into enemy territory to kill someone? It was an easy question, considering I actually have been in that situation quite a few times. First, disable security. Second, render the target defenseless. "Maybe you were right about the armory door keypad. She tried to get in there. Gave up, either because we arrived or she just couldn't break it. Is there anywhere else on the ship where weapons are kept?"

Fox thought for a second. "The range, a few doors down from the armory."

I nodded and gestured for him to follow. I took point, the barrel of my gun leading us both. This assassin had managed to keep hidden since we came aboard, but she still didn't impress me. She left a trace of her presence with the armory keypad, and she botched the installation of the chip in ROB's head. I kept on my toes, though. It didn't take a master rogue to get a lucky shot off. We reached the range without incident and I peeked inside. No one hopped out at me. So far so good.

Just as I was about to pronounce the room clear, I glanced down the alleys and one of the target silhouettes caught my eye. It wavered, as if a breeze had ruffled it. I squinted at it and noticed a thin shadow behind the paper. Someone hiding behind it would make it look like that. A devilish smile came to my muzzle.

"Well, nothing in here," I said aloud. I gestured to the silhouette and Fox looked as well. He nodded and aimed, but I held up my hand to stop him. "Might as well, get in some practice while we're here."

As I picked out a rifle from the nearby racks, Fox caught on to what I was doing and grinned as well. He kept his pistol trained on our friend. I loaded up and took aim at the silhouette, purposely aiming to the right of the target's head. I fired and the blast cut through the paper. A nearly inaudible yelp followed the shot. Without missing a beat, I aimed to the left of the head and fired.

"Dammit," I said with a chuckle. "I'm all over the place today."

"Here, your sights are screwed up," Fox said, getting into the act. He flicked the gun, as if fixing the sight. "There. Try again. Fifty credits says you can't nail the center of the head."

"You're on." I took aim again. "Ah, much better. Your money's mine. Center...of...the...head..." I drew out each word for the not-so-stealthy assassin.

It worked. Before I could fire, she panicked, broke cover, and fired wildly with her pistol. Fox and I both ducked behind our own cover as the rapid, random shots burst against the walls. She probably wouldn't have hit me if I stood up with a target painted on my chest. I wasn't about to try, though. She clicked on empty and dropped the pistol as she disappeared out the door. We sprinted after her.

I entered the corridor in time to see the next door over slide closed. It was the hand-to-hand combat training room, what Fox called the "dojo." I just called it the beat down room, because Fox and I had sparred a few times in there and that's always what happened to him. I took the lead, and unfortunately underestimated the assassin. She was waiting to the side as we charged in and tripped me. I took a plummet and hopped up in time to see the butt of my rifle, now in her hands, slam into Fox's forehead. He was out like a light. I didn't wait. I kicked upwards, kicking the rifle out of her hands, and let the momentum pull me to my feet. She backed off to one corner of the padded room, I backed to the other.

Stand-off time.

Andrea was a pretty little thing, the kind of girl you'd expect to find going out to night clubs rather than breaking into mercenary ships. She was dressed in a tight black jumpsuit, normal covert ops gear for militaries from Corneria to Venom. After a moment's hesitation, she unclasped and shrugged off her gear vest and tossed it aside. She was prepping for a fight. She tossed her pouch-laden belt aside as well.

I grinned and shook my head. "Trust me, girl. Andrea, right? You don't want to do this. Calm down, tell me what's going on, and you'll live to see tomorrow."

Andrea didn't listen. She unlaced her boots and tossed them over with her other gear, then cracked her knuckles and crouched in a fighting stance. I sighed and lowered into my stance as well. I didn't need the prep. I'd done plenty of hand-to-hand in the field, and with all my gear on. The enemy didn't wait patiently for me to ready myself. Besides, a booted foot hurts much worse than a bare one.

"This isn't about you," she said. Like her appearance, her voice made me think of anything but a combatant. Maybe a weathergirl or something. "Leave me and Fox, and you don't have to get hurt."

Gee, how merciful. How could I resist?

I took a step forward, and she flinched back. That clinched it. I looked hard into her eyes. "You're no assassin. You botched everything sneaking in here, you panicked, and now you can't face me without a scared look in your eye. Who are you? Wolf's sister?"

I guess I stumbled on a touchy issue. Her eyes narrowed and she attacked with a swift kick to my stomach and a jab that caught me off guard. There wasn't much power behind it, but there was speed and enough strength to make me step back. "Quick little thing, aren't you? I have no qualms about hitting women in combat situations, just so you know. Last chance, or else I take you down. Three moves, tops."

She didn't care for my offer and attacked again. I caught her ankle in mid-arc, kicked out her other leg, and slammed my elbow down on her stomach as she fell to the ground. The wolf grabbed her stomach and gasped for air.

"Three moves," I said. "Now, do you want to tell me who you work for, or do you want to kiss the ground ag—"

She had heart, I'll give her that. I didn't expect her to recover so quickly, but she sprang to her feet, kicked me in the side, and followed up with a harsh knee to my groin. That was it. I sank to my knees, the world spinning around me. I should've known to watch for it. Women love it. Men never do it to other men; no one is that cruel. We do something more merciful, like a gutshot.

Many times, a hit in the manhood is enough to take a guy out of commission for a few minutes, but I sucked in a breath and forced myself to react. I was pissed now. The bitch was going down. She tried to punch, but I ducked it and stood with a solid jab to her stomach. She stepped back, but I wasn't done. I landed my hardest right hook to her cheek and she spun, her eyes flickering. I finished off with my favorite move, a roundhouse kick. My boot thocked against the side of her head, sending her down into a barely conscious heap.

By this time, Fox was starting to come around. He writhed and groaned on the floor and finally sat up, rubbing his head as if he awoke with a hangover. He was probably in no better mood than I was with Andrea. I retrieved my pistol and crouched next to the moaning wolf. She saw me armed, and there was enough glimmer left in her eyes to widen them in fear. She shook her head and swallowed.

"Please," she gasped. "Don't...kill me."

"I tell you what," I said, pressing the barrel to her head. "There's one part of my body that wants to splatter that pretty face all over this room."

"I...I didn't want to fight. I didn't...I wanted..."

"Didn't want to fight? What do you call hiding and taking shots at us? Then this?"

"Scared," she said in a near whisper. Tears welled in her eyes. She was serious. "I was...scared. I wanted Fox. I didn't know who you were. I thought you would kill me."

"And ROB? The assassin get-up? All part of your peaceful intentions?"

"They made me. It was the only way to...see Fox."

I thought for a moment. Something wasn't right with her, and I doubted we'd get much information from her before she recovered from our little bout. "You so much as move, I'll kill you. Stay put."

I walked over to where Fox was steadying himself against the wall, still a confused look in his eyes. Being knocked out is a bitch. "You alright?"

He nodded. "Good job."

"Even you could've beat this one." I looked over my shoulder at her. "Here I thought we'd need this big, dangerous plan to capture a merc alive for questioning. Something's not right with her though. She needs to rest before we'll get anything coherent though. Are there holding cells on this ship?"

He nodded again. "Two, deck one."

"I'll take her there. Go get yourself an aspirin and sit down."

Fox gave me an odd look as I walked away, and I realized I was hobbling. My groin would need a little recuperation time of its own. He just shook his head and said, "I don't want to know."

"Good. I don't want to tell."

--Chapter 5 coming soon--