"Oh man, this—OOF!" Falco's helmet bumped a low pipe mounted on the ceiling of the vent, it producing a dull Thud from the lack of atmosphere in the 'air' vent.

"Uh, as I was sayin', this sucks..."

"Not gonna argue on that." Fox groaned while trying to propel himself forwards through the vent; it was just barely big enough to fit him while laying down, and then just barely. Fox forced the thought of his adversary away, grabbing another pipe; one of many that were welded to the sides of the vent. He pulled himself forward, the lack of gravity being only so helpful here in the tiny space.

"How much further? I'm already getting' sick of these things!"

Fox angled his gaze straight ahead-or upwards, relative to the Vulpine, and peered down the inky darkness of the vent. He had taken the flashlight off his carbine's tactical rail before climbing into the claustrophobic ducts; not like he'd be able to aim his gun with any degree of accuracy, anyways. Only his pistol's small size allowed him any amount of reliable firepower in here. Falco dragged his large battle rifle on it's sling over his back, the long barrel catching on every little bit of metal that protruded from the walls of the vent. Fox's light cleared always the darkness best it could, reveling a slightly larger chamber just up ahead; it was the larger, central ventilation duct that ran the entire length of the ship, even down to the engines a good 250 meters back.

"Almost..." Fox pulled himself forward with a grunt. "...There."

After a good few minutes of crawl-floating through the vent, Fox climbed into the larger main vent. It still wasn't tall enough to stand in, but a walkway made from a stiff metal mesh lay bolted to the floor; but at least this was somewhere that somebody was expected to come through at some point, back when the ship was operational. Fox had to hunch in the main vent, but it still marginally more room to maneuver then the tiny one.

Fox had expected Falco to climb out right behind him, but instead, his long battle rifle came through first. It floated out of the vent barrel-first, floating across the main vent and bumping into the wall.

"Damn thing's too big for this place..." Falco complained, pulling himself though and hunching down next to Fox while scooping up his rifle.

Fox knew better then to ask about Falco's gun and why he brought the thing aboard; having a heated argument over firearms and which ones were practical again with his friend wasn't exactly what Fox would call productive. Fox decided to keep his focus on the mission for the time being, hopefully Falco would do the same.

"Alright, if the vent's intact, it should run perpendicular to the hallway." Fox said pointing to the right down the cramped corridor, recalling what Peppy had told the two before they entered the vent. The hull was thicker deeper in the wreck; Fox's relatively weak suit radio and antenna couldn't pick up anything from the Great Fox at this point.

"Well, we betta' get movin' then."

Fox nodded back, and the two began crouch-walking down the dark, main vent. Large pipes on welded to the walls flanked the two Star Fox members on either side with dead power conduits and wires hung from the ceiling. The wreck itself remained utterly silent still, with only the two's footsteps on the mesh walkway and Fox's steady breathing being the only noises that could be heard.

The walk down the hallway was uneventful, with the two repeating the same method of Falco watching more behind with Fox taking position up front. Fox panned his light around, looking for a smaller access vent along the right wall. His shined upon what he was looking for; a metal grate along the right wall, just as Peppy had said before the two climbed into the vents. The bright rifle flashlight bathed the metal grate in light, illuminating the block letters above.

BRGE VNT No. 3b

"Okay, this should be it, here." Fox pointed, Falco groaned in response.

"We goin' though that little thing? Again?"

Fox rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and unless you think that under-barrel launcher can bore through that bulkhead, we gotta come back this way too."

"Great..." Falco groaned again, slinging his battle rifle over his shoulder, hoping he wouldn't have to throw it ahead of him again.

"I'll get the grate, just watch my back will ya?"

"Ah, okay."

Fox unclipped a foldable screwdriver he borrowed from Slippy from a fabric loop on his suit, folding it out and handing it to Falco. The bird twirled the tool around in his hand, looking it over. He got to work soon after, attacking the screws on the metal vent grate. Fox grabbed his blaster carbine from his back, doing his best to shoulder it in the tight space. Fox reattached the light back on the gun's tactical rail to free up his left paw, and looked down to his left. The light lit up a giant ventilation fan further down, it sitting entirely still on it's motor and bearings. Behind it, more darkness he couldn't see into with just the rifle's light. He thought briefly about borrowing Falco's thermal, but seeing the tiny screws holding the optic on the bird's rifle Fox decided pulling it off just too look a bit further down wasn't worth the hassle.

Fox shifted his aim and gaze to his right, down the way the two had came. The light's limited range only permitting a good 30 feet of vision down the vent. Fox went to look back to his friend, but something caught itself in Fox's peripheral vision for a split second as he went to turn his head.

The hell...?

He narrowed his green eyes into a squint, trying to pick out anything moving down the corridor. The sight was so brief however, that it easily could've been nothing.

There's no air anywhere in the ship, no way anything could be alive in here, not without a suit anyways... Right?

Fox kept looking down the vent, unsure of himself and what he was seeing. He thought back to the day they left Corneria; those 'blue dots' he had 'seen' from the couch, and in the woods across the parking lot from the spaceport's lobby. They had turned out to be nothing, after all; so why would this be any different?

No, it's nothing. Just focus on the mission.

Before he let his mind drift into more thoughts about the black object wedged in the wreck outside, Fox turned his attention to Falco, the bird still unscrewing the grate to allow them access through to the bridge. The tight space blocked Fox's view of how far his friend was in getting the grate undone, but judging on how he was leaning to work on the bottom gave away he was almost done.

"Almost done with that?"

"Gettin' there... Ah, that's the last one." Falco handed Fox back the screwdriver, and pulled the grate away. He gave it a light shove down the main vent, towards the fan to get it out of the way entirely.

"Alright..." Falco sighed in his helmet. "Let's get through this little damn vent..."

The shuttle's radio giving off burst of static filled the shuttle's otherwise relatively silent interior. Nora's attention snapped from the training manual for an atmospheric reconnaissance drone she had found in a crate, packed under a seat. The drone manual was hardly entertaining reading material for her to browse though, but it had given her something to do for the past few hours at the very least. Groggily, Nora moved from her seat, and positioned herself appropriately to push off a wall with her legs to float into the cockpit through the open door. The shuttle's artificial gravity subsystem had been switched off to save power, thankfully, everything in the troop bay was already strapped down in one way or another before they even escaped with the shuttle. Richard had fallen asleep in one of the seats along the sides of the troop bay, having strapped himself in before dozing off. His arms floated freely out in front of him as he slept.

Nora grabbed the back of the pilot's seat, pulling herself around the chair and sitting down. The radio loudly buzzed again, Nora having turned the volume down beforehand.

"-Th- is t-e mudskipper -lass transp-rt Red Com-t, -questing docking p-rmission with Po- Arknez—Shit, I'm on - open chan-el? Rodger -at..."

The shuttle had no deep-space positioning system that was standard to even the most basic of civilian starships came equipped with, so relying on the relatively short range of the shuttle's radar and radio antenna were the only options they had. The smaller radar system had no hope of picking up anything beyond roughly 300 kilometers, so only Port Arknez's powerful freelance broadcasts would let them know where in orbit the station was at longer distances. Or in this case; an amateur pilot's bad radio skills.

Nora grabbed the radio headset from it's magnetic clip, slipping it over her head and lining up the speakers for her wolf-like ears. The set was designed for pretty much every canid species that served in the Cornerian navy, and could be adjusted accordingly. Nora remembered hearing about the mudskipper-class transport; a prewar civilian model once manufactured by the questionable Thrustodyne. Working quickly, the vixen searched the overhead panel for the small toggle switch that was connected to the shuttle's reaction control thrusters, with the search intensity that'd make a detective blush.

Nora found the switch, flicking it downwards. The steady hum of the RCS thrusters coming online, as well as the sound of the shuttle's fuel cells responding to the increased power demand was music to Nora's ears.

Maybe we'll get out of this, after all...

Richard poked his head in, having been woken up by all the noise. His green Captain's hat was missing, but Nora paid no attention.

"I take it Arknez is close by?"

"Yes sir, amateur radio traffic got to us before the port's official navigation broadcast did."

Richard pinched the fur under his muzzle. "Odd. You'd think the transport's radio would be too weak to reach us, from this distance." Richard cleared his throat, the dry, peach smell of the compressed fruit bar he ate earlier still in his breath. "Well, I'm not going to turn down our only probable opportunity to get back to Cornerian controlled space." Richard said, as the husky maneuvered himself to sit next to Nora in the copilot's seat.

The husky strapped himself in. "Well then... Full burn, head straight to Arknez." Richard would usually give his pilot, or helmsmen, more information. However with the shuttle's limited sensors and no dedicated, separate navigator to relay him accurate tactical and navigation data, there wasn't much he could say. Nora probably didn't need it anyways, not this time at least.

Nora gave a simple nod, pushing the throttle forwards. The twin engines responded as they should, the blue glow emitting from the thruster cowlings increasing in intensity. It certainly wasn't as fast on the acceleration as a fighter, but provided the fuel held out, Richard was certain they'd catch up to Arknez in it's orbit.

Fox clambered his way out of the tiny vent, pulling himself out of the small opening and into the main access corridor. Getting his footing back with the magnetic boots, Fox took a look down the hall to his left. Lylus's faint blue rays of light could be seen from the vulpine's position in the hall; it most likely came from the Pathfinder's bridge. Falco came through right behind Fox, the pheasant grumbling under his breath as his battle rifle got stuck on something again in the vent.

"You need any help in there?"

Falco rolled his eyes. "Very funny... Startin' ta' regret bringin' this rifle, though."

Fox gave his friend a small smirk, glad that Falco was beginning to realize his mistake. Knowing the bird though, this probably wouldn't last too long. Falco stepped out into the hallway, joining Fox. "Oh man... Feels good ta' actually stand again."

Fox simply nodded in response, pulling his small blaster carbine from his back and reattaching the flashlight. "Alright, looks like the bridge is just up ahead."

"Good; I'm getting damn sick of this ship already!"

Fox couldn't help but agree as he pressed onward down the hall, the faint blue sunrays coming in from billions of kilometers away were a sight for sore eyes, despite not being in the dark for that long. Just as Fox was beginning to enjoy the better visibility, something slowly floated into view.

"Shit, is that..."

"Yeah... it's an arm..." Fox finished Falco's sentence for him as the severed arm came into a better view for the two. Up ahead, hidden in shadow, sat a more gruesome sight just before the doorway to the bridge. Fox panned his gunlight across the walls, the lovely-in-comparison blue rays being blocked by the slagged remains of the bridge's blast door.

"Shit..." Fox swore, staring at the blood-caked metal walls of the hallway. "Looks like the bridge put up a fight..."

"Hell, I'd say so, too." Falco said in agreement. "My bet's on a grenade; pressure wave musta' tore these guys apart. Would explain the blast mark, too." The bird stared intently at the remains of a pirate missing a leg, his blood-red light combat armor marked with a white canid skull on the shoulder pad gave away exactly who he was apart of. "Oh yeah... I know bout' these guys, Crimson Dawn or whatever. Pretty stupid name if ya' ask me, but they don't fuck around."

"Ah..." Fox mumbled in acknowledgment. "Can't say I've heard too much about them."

"Heh, I'd think you'd know more, Foxy." Falco jeered, reaching out to grab a short rifle floating nearby. The cut-down frame, stock and barrel indicated it likely belonged to one of the pirates that was now strewn about the hallway.

"These guys usually operate in the outer rim, right? Pray on ships like these?"

The pheasant nodded his helmet. "Bingo, don't make any damn sense why this thing wasn't packing guns of it's own though; No way the Navy didn't know bout' these guys..."

"Good point, it also doesn't explain the heavy weapons we found earlier, in the hall."

"Heh, or that bulkhead door that wasn't built to the regulations the Navy gets a hard-on for."

Fox rolled his eyes at the low-hanging fruit of a joke, and pressed forward to the bridge, walking around Falco as he checked another found pirate blaster. The vulpine approached the remains of the heavyset blast door, designed to protect the bridge from potential boarding action. It hadn't done it's job too well, clearly. The edges of the metal the thick door was composed of were charred and otherwise melted away; Fox assumed the pirates came with cutting equipment. The job was sloppy, too; judging from the roughly oval-like hole in the door, whoever was using the cutter likely didn't have much time. If he did, a larger opening in the metal would've been done, this one however was just large enough to hunch through.

The vulpine stepped around the remains of a free-floating body of a pirate. They all seemed to be lupine, as far as Fox could tell. Hunching his back, Fox clambered through the hole in the blast door, finally stepping into the bridge. Falco came out right behind him.

"Man, this place is a wreck!" The bird decided, looking over the remains of the ship's bridge, looking like a small tornado had passed through. Computer consoles and monitors were torn from their mounts, and shards of what was once the front window floated around haphazardly. Bits of smaller debris and various metals dotted the room, casting a spotted shadow around the room.

"Alright... If Pepper's schematic's are correct; the recorder should be nearby the center console..." Fox mumbled, looking around the room. The Captain's chair sat empty in the center of the room, elevated slightly and surrounded by a small railing.

"I'll take a look around the center, think you can look along the walls; in case the schematic's wrong?"

"Yeah, gotcha."

The two split up, each taking separate positions in the bridge. Fox started with the large computer console just behind the Captain's chair, it's screen had seemingly burst outwards from a probable overload. Fox gave it a curious glance, eyebrow raised in thought.

I thought these things were designed NOT to overload like that...

Falco, reluctantly doing as he said he would, slowly made his way around the edge of the bridge, peering his powerful eyes around the bridge equipment. Despite the lack of main power, a few screens were still lit, albeit dimly; Fox might not have noticed they were running with the glare from Lylus drowning out the dim interfaces. Falco decided not to mention this to Fox, as he walked up for a closer look. It only took a quick glance to find what appeared to be a cargo manifest, it didn't make much sense to the bird why it was still open, or why it was here, but it didn't really matter. The bird combed over the data, even with his lack of knowledge on things software-related, he didn't need to be told the data was probably corrupt.

-̸O̸f̶f̴i̵c̴i̸a̶l̵ ̴c̶r̸r̵g̷0̴ ̶m̵a̵%̶i̴f̵e̴s̸t̷ ̸-̷ ̷c̷l̴a̶s̷s̶i̸f̴i̵e̸d̸ ̵d̴a̷t̶a̴:̷ ̷C̴a̴p̸t̴a̷i̶%̸9̵'̴s̶ ̶e̶y̸e̴s̵ ̶o̵n̵l̵y̵.̸-̷

̶-̷M̶i̷l̷i̸t̷a̸8̷y̷ ̷t̷y̷p̷e̵-̷C̸ ̴r̷a̶t̴i̸o̶n̴s̵ ̸–̶ ̶2̵0̸ ̷t̷o̵n̴s̴-̸

̴-̵P̵r̷e̷f̸a̶b̵r̶i̵c̷a̶t̸e̷d̷ ̶r̶e̶p̴l̷a̴c̶e̴m̴e̸n̵t̸ ̶c̸o̴m̸p̵o̵n̶e̴n̴t̶s̶ ̵–̵ ̵1̶0̸ ̸Tons-̴

̵-̷"̴E̵q̵u̴a̵l̴i̶z̷e̸r̵'̴ ̷T̵h̷e̷r̴m̴o̴u̸c̷l̶e̴a̴r̵ ̵w̷a̷r̴h̸e̵a̷d̷,̶ ̸Y̸i̵e̸l̷d̴ ̶5̵2̸ ̶M̸T̵ ̴(̷S̵e̷e̵ ̸a̶t̶t̶a̵c̸h̴e̸d̴ ̸n̵o̵t̴e̵)̵-̴

"...The hell?" Falco whispered under his breath, a puzzled look across his face. "...This thing's packing some heat... But why?" An idea formulated itself in his head, the bird getting a gigantic grin across his face. Falco reached for the keyboard to scroll the list down, seeing how the list had more to it., along with the 'attached note'. He tapped the down arrow on the keyboard below.

The screen immediately locked up, the cargo manifest vanishing away and being replaced with a red, flashing screen.

-̴U̷n̷a̵u̵t̶h̵o̸r̵i̴z̴e̸d̶ ̷u̷s̶e̵r̸ ̵d̷e̶t̷e̶c̸t̷e̴d̶;̴ ̷s̸e̵c̵u̶r̷i̴t̴y̴ ̶p̷e̸r̶s̸o̴n̶n̴e̶l̷ ̴n̴o̶t̸i̵f̶i̵e̵-̷ ̴S̶y̴s̶t̴e̸m̵ ̸e̷r̶r̵o̷r̵,̷ ̵a̵u̴t̷o̷m̶a̷t̸e̴d̷ ̷d̵e̵f̴e̴n̷s̶e̷s̴ ̶d̸i̸s̶p̵a̶t̷c̷h̴e̶d̶,̵ ̷l̴e̸t̵h̴a̵l̶ ̷f̶o̶r̷c̸e̵d̵ ̵a̶u̶t̵h̶o̴r̷i̷z̷e̶d̸-̷

"...Fark..."

Falco backed away from the console, pulling his rifle from behind his back and shouldering it.

"Uh, Fox? I think we might have some company..."

"What? Why?"

Falco looked down to avert Fox's glare. "Yeah... Uh, I was lookin' through this computer here; and I guess I set somethin' off..."

Fox looked to the hole in the door, then back to Falco, eyes slightly wider in panic. "'Something off'? What, like a security system?"

"Yeah, somethin' like that."

"That doesn't make sense; even with secondary power working, security shouldn't have-

"-Be advised. Hostiles in area. Threat neutralization in progress.-" A deep, authoritative, distorted robotic voice boomed, the sound reverberated through the metal deck plating without an atmosphere to travel in.

"The hell? Almost sounds like ROB, but, uh..."

A mechanical rolling sound could be heard soon after, almost like a tank's treads rumbling down a steel ramp, Fox couldn't pinpoint where it was coming from but it didn't take a genius to know something was rolling towards them.

"Get that launcher of yours ready and get behind something, Falco; Something's on it's way, and it doesn't sound too friendly."

"Way ahead of ya' Foxy!" Falco said back, already knowing what to do. The mechanical rolling got louder; whatever was coming was closing the distance faster then Fox would've liked. The Vulpine ducked behind a vaguely-solid looking computer console that once belonged to the navigator, Falco taking his own position behind a locker that had been torn off the wall beforehand, it floating freely around. The bird checked the under-barrel launcher, finding it was loaded and ready.

"You got an angle?" Fox said, holding position and readying his carbine at the hole in the door. Still makes no sense; but then again, not much here does...

"Yeah, got a round ready for whatevea' clanker comes through."

The heavy rolling sound closed in, a red beam of light made light up the hallway beyond. Fox couldn't see what was making it, but as the beam grew in intensity it became clear it was closing in. It's getting close...Falco better explain what set this thing off after we're done with it...

Fox wrapped a gloved finger around the trigger, staring intensely at the door with narrowed eyes. At last, whatever had been dispatched to kill them showed itself; a small, boxy tank-like vehicle squeezed it's way in. White composite and metals that made up it's hull lit up under the sunlight, revealing a heavy blaster attached to a gimbaled mount sitting atop the body. It's long barrel swiveled around the bridge, it having not yet spotted the two. The red spotlight mounted coaxially to the gun panned around-easily telling Fox where to run should he want to get shot.

The small tank rotated it's hull to the left, pointing itself unknowingly at Falco's position behind the locker, it's magnetic tracks grinding on the deck providing limited traction as it did so. Fox didn't know if the machine was capable of picking up audio, but judging how the two teammates were chatting earlier it didn't seem likely. Wouldn't this thing just drive in and kill the entire bridge crew? What tells it who's hostile and who's not? Gives me a stupid idea though...

"Falco?" Fox whispered into his radio, not wanting to take the chance if the tank could hear them or not.

"Yeah? What we gonna do about this thing?"

"I'll draw it over to my position, you hit it from behind with that launcher-and please don't miss..." Fox quickly added. The tank didn't change it's behavior, it still sitting parked in front of the door and scanning the room idly with it's light-If it relied on visual detection, it could be fooled.

"Ah, gotcha." The bird responded, a bit louder then Fox would've liked.

Here goes...

Fox waited for the robot's turret to be pointing away from him, and popped out from behind his cover. With a grit of his teeth, Fox squeezed his gun's trigger, letting loose a quick burst of blaster fire into the machine's turret. The bolts of gas blazed through the vacuum, pelting the rear, flat plate of the turret housing. The Vulpine didn't have time to see what damage he had inflicted before the machine responded, whipping it's turret around and saturating Fox's general direction in red, glowing light.

"-Crime detected. Application of death sentence commencing.-" The robot blared back, the electrical whine of the turret's heavy blaster spooling up signaled Fox to duck behind his cover. Soon after, the turret unleashed a storm of ruby-red blaster bolts around Fox's position, the rapid muzzle flashes strobing the bridge. The beams bored into the computer console, slagging plastics and delicate components into an exotic soup of material. Fox ducked as low to the deck as he could, the occasional ruby beam cutting through the thinner parts of his cover and slamming into the wall nearby.

The turret momentarily ceased pelting the Vulpine's cover with red death. "-Alert. Target lock lost. Neutralization by lethal force remains primary objective.-" With the sound of more heavy, mechanical rolling, the tank began to slowly reposition itself, looking for a better angle to kill Fox from.

"WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU FALCO?!" Fox screamed into his suit's radio, having expected the bird to have fired his grenade launcher by now.

Falco didn't respond.

Fox clambered around his cover, trying to put as much matter between him and the tank as the bridge allowed; it was hardly designed to handle a firefight. The tank rolled forward, keeping it's turret pointed in the last spot it saw Fox. He briefly looked to the spot his friend was hiding behind, his feet just barely visible under the locker. He was clearly still there, but why hadn't he done anything?

The robot found an angle on Fox's previous position, it's gun spooling up despite it not having acquired a visual. The heavy blaster let out another torrent of red death into the computer console, Fox ducking as low as he could go to minimize his profile. The Vulpine's cover had already deteriorated from the first torrent, the fully automatic death spitting out the barrel and lancing into the navigator's console. The beams tore into the screen from the new angle, bits of debris kicking off in every direction. A few more sustained beams cut straight through, blazing right over Fox's head, one going between his pointed ears.

Fox yelped in pain as a bolt slammed into his thigh, burning it's way through the suit, fur and flesh. The burning sensation nearly overtook Fox's senses, him seething for air through gritted teeth while trying to endure the pain. "-Warning; suit breach detected, sealant and medical treatment recommended."-

The robot held fire once again, the barrel of it's heavy blaster glowing orange-red from sustained fire. It was like it was giving Fox a chance for a moment.

WHUMP

A small projectile soared through the vacuum, twisting in flight. The robot had no time to react, as the round slammed into it's hull. The small warhead detonated on impact, sending a small, snappy shockwave and bits of debris washing over the bridge.

"-Status report: yellow and falling. Perimeter security can no longer be guaranteed.-"

The smoke around the robotic tank cleared, revealing the round had impacted center-mass with a blackened mark across it's hull, somehow blowing off a track in the process. The tank attempted to move, but failed to do much more then spin in a tight circle as Fox could hear it's single, functional track grinding on the charred deck. Falco made himself known to the machine, popping out of cover and readying another grenade.

"Guarantee this, asshole!"

WHUMP

A second grenade rocketed out of the under-barrel launcher, it blazing across the room and impacting the small tank again. A similar pressure wave washed over the bridge again, punting around more floating debris. The tank-somehow still able to fire back, answered Falco's launcher with a shower of blaster fire, forcing him back into cover. The ruby death raked up and down the locker the bird was using for cover, it holding firm for the most part.

"-Status report: red. Primary system failure imminent. Repair or reinforcement recommended. Fuel cell damage detected; risk of catastrophic overload increasing. Non-combatants are advised to seek intimidate shelter.-"

The robot's cannon spun down, it's now-flickering light panning over the bridge in search of a new target. Fox, clutching the wound in his thigh peeked around the corner at the rouge machine; it's optics were damaged by Falco's last grenade. It seemed to loose sight of his friend as he hid, even holding fire like it wasn't sure if the bird was even there.

Looks like it's relying on motion now... Shit, this hurts... Gives me an idea, though...

Fox twisted his torso, the aggravated wound sending up spikes of intense pain as he did so. The Vulpine fought his way through the hurting, grabbing a chunky piece of debris floating nearby with a gloved paw. Fox looked it over, the piece being an unrecognizable, slagged ball of composite still warm to the touch, even through his gloves. It would do.

Fox wound back for a throw with his right arm, hurling the scrap across the bridge as fast as his battered body would allow. Just as Fox would've hoped, the turret snapped it's aim and searchlight to the chunk, it's gun spinning up and eviscerating the poor scrap with more ruby beams.

Good... Looks like it's too damaged to tell the difference anymore...

Fox let out a sigh, preparing himself mentally to grab and throw more debris. The wound and the suit breach could wait for another minute. The Vulpine caught another chunky bit of scrap in his paw, not bothering to see what it exactly even was this time. The machine's turret panned around again, it having decided Fox's first bit of scrap was 'dead'. The flicking light washed over Falco's locker again, it not opening fire despite it should've known the bird might've still been there.

"Falco..." Fox wheezed. "I'm gonna distract it... You hit it's turret, put it outta' commission for good..."

"Gotcha!"

Fox closed his eyes briefly, sighing. He chucked the scrap into the 'air' as fast as he could. Just like last time, the tank's light washing the unfortunate bit of debris. It's gun spun up again, preparing to fire with ruby light glowing along it's barrel.

"Now Falco!"

The bird swung out of cover, striking a pose like an action movie star from a bygone era while brandishing his battle rifle from the hip.

"Looks like you're last years model!"

The tank, detecting Falco's movement as a higher priority, began to swivel it's gun in intent to slag the bird.

Falco's trigger finger was faster.

WHUMP

The grenade sailed through the vacuum as the machine's turret glowed red in preparation to fire. The 40 millimeter projectile flew slightly wide, sideswiping the turrets' blocky housing, and impacting the gun's feed system. The round detonated right on the small tube feeding into the gun's receiver, it already full of blaster gas.

The entire bridge seemed to shake, lighting up in a blinding wash of white-orange light as the entire tank was engulfed in a powerful fireball, it's fuel cells rupturing and overloading entirely. A nasty shockwave rippled over the room, Fox and Falco ducking behind cover to avoid the lethal pressure wave and shrapnel. The blast wave slammed into what was left of the bridge's windows, blowing out and shattering them entirely.

Falco peeked his head from out behind the locker he had taken refuge behind, it's back panel warped and burnt from sustained blaster fire. The blast wave would've blown in away and taken him with it, had it not gotten jammed into a small strut connecting the wall and ceiling. He looked over to Fox, the Vulpine slumped against the shredded computer console.

"Hey! It's dead Fox!" Falco exclaimed, looking down at Fox. The Vulpine didn't respond, nor did he move. "Uh, Fox? You oka- Oh shit..." He deadpanned, noticing the piece of scrap that had impaled Fox in the abdomen.

"Y-Yeah... It's dead..." Fox weakly croaked, coughing up a small amount of blood into his helmet.

"Shit..."

Port Arknez's flashing lights flickered in the distance through the shuttle's cockpit, providing hope against the backdrop of black despair. Smaller lights followed closely by engine trails of different colors looped around the port like a small swarm of metal insects. Richard stared intently at the giant orbital structure, an expression of mild disgust across his muzzle.

"...Never thought I'd come here, out of desperation..."

Arknez was one of a handful of so-called 'Freeports', a hub of free, and nearly limitless unregulated trade of everything under Lylus; every commodity from cheap ores, to harvested organs and recreational drugs could be bought and sold at a Freeport. All of the ports were far away from Corneria out of necessity, and Arknez happened to be the furthest one away from Lylat.

"Should we ask for docking clearance, sir?"

"...Yeah, it's one of the few things, if not the only, that's actually regulated here. I'll do it; I've dealt with people like this before the war."

Nora got out of the Captain's way as he reached for the headset and pulled it over his head. With a long pause and a sigh, Richard keyed the microphone.

"This is Captain Richard of the Conerian navy shuttle CV-12B, requesting docking permission at Port Arknez, over..." Richard said, being careful not to spill any more details then flight control needed to know. A few seconded past by, the radio only producing static.

"-Conerian shuttle, this is flight control. State your business at Arknez. You should know by now you guys aren't what we'd call... Welcome, here.-"

Richard let out a quiet sigh, the sent of the mediocre fruit bar still in his breath. "Acknowledged, flight control... We don't plan on staying long, only thing we need are supplies, and enough fuel to make it back to Cornerian controlled space. We'll be out of your fur and on our way before you know it."

Fight control didn't respond back, Nora's eyes frantically darting to the distant station and back to the shuttle's radio, her paws uncomfortably squeezing the flight stick. Nonetheless, she pressed the shuttle onward, closing the distance between the station and the shuttle. More, small details of the port became clearer along the port's hull. Patchy repairs of different, jumbled metals welded together dotted the vaguely cylindrical station and it's two, large outer rings. One of the two rings seemed to be damaged, large sections of hull missing, with the tendrils of large power conduits and pipes sticking out into the void, connecting to nothing.

The radio cracked alive once more. "-Rodger that, shuttle... Transferring you to docking control...-" The voice on the other end finally answering back, tone of voice reluctant. Another, but ultimately similar voice cut in, replacing flight control's. "-Docking permission granted, head to pad five-zero-six. Docking control, out.-"

Richard and Nora breathed a collective sigh of relief, with the fox pulling the control stick slightly right, guiding the shuttle towards the port's large access slot.

Location: [Redacted]

The icy, tundra-like wasteland of the planet's surface stretched out for miles, the land being swallowed by the distant, thick fog kilometers away. Ice-capped mountains towered into the low cloud cover, their rocky surfaces being dotted with various alien trees and patches of ice and glittering-white snow. Perched along the side of a steep cliff, ran a single stretch of snow-covered railway line, it's supports bolted and drilled dozens of meters into the solid rock face of the mountain. The roar of a powerful locomotive overtook the howling chill of the wind, it's dual headlamps casting an immense wash of blue-tinted light over the rails and rock ahead.

The train's streamlined front end cut through the icy air, effortlessly clearing aside the layer of snow built up over the rails and casting the powder down the cliff. It's horn blared, a piercing roar of angry sound bouncing across the nearby landscape, warning any native wildlife that had wandered onto the rails ahead of death-by-impact. Not all the wildlife took heed of the warning though, they'd learn in time.

Commander Noveru stretched out her arms with a long yawn as she got out of bed. The tall canid choosing a white, fluffy robe to match her snow-colored fur. The commander slipped it on after grabbing it from the closet, making sure the fabric sufficiently covered the long cybernetic implant that replaced her spinal cord, and wrapped partway around her belly. It had an armored cover for her back, but she'd rather sleep without it.

I suppose I should take a look outside...

Noveru glanced over to the wall perpendicular to her bed, her cybernetic eyes displaying the outside of the train through the solid armor via an advanced augmented-reality system. To the unaided observer, she'd be staring at a blank wall, but Noveru could see the tundra outside the railcar racing by, the train traveling too fast for her to make out any details. Particles of snowfall whizzed by, the planet's seemingly endless winter in full swing.

Same old, same old... The tall canid sighed, trotting over to her cabin's beverage machine to get a cup of something she hadn't decided on. A soft knock sounded through the cabin's door, being quiet enough to not wake the Commander should she still be asleep. Briefly thinking about the point of even knocking, Noveru answered back.

"Yes?"

"Uh, Commander, we've got some new intel on the situation regarding the missing prototype..."

Novreu raised a furry eyebrow. "Come in, let's see it then."

The door slid open with an electrical whine, revealing a solider standing in the hall. He was outfitted in a suit of winterized power armor, the waist lined with pocketed powercells and other smaller bits of tactical equipment. He didn't have a full helmet, letting the Commander witness his messy tan and gray fur along his muzzle, small bits of snow clinging to the ends. He held a small datapad in his gloved left paw, his right snapping into a brisk salute upon seeing her.

"Corporal Issac- Oh..." His expression changed, his cheeks almost blushing best they could in embarrassment at catching Noveru in her robe.

"Not an issue, Corporal." Noveru waved his concern off, noticing his face. "I wouldn't have even answered if I didn't want to be disturbed... Anyways, intel?" She answered his concern with a long yawn, the realm of sleep still yet to leave her entirely.

"Ah, right, here you are." The armor-clad solider handed Noveru the datapad, the electronic responding to the commander's touch by waking up, it's cyan monitor glowing soft light upon Noveru's face.

"Thank you, Corporal... Say, you still on your shift?"

"Yes... What about it?"

A small hint of a smile crept onto her lips. "Take an early break, grab something warm to drink; we're not under threat, no need for you to be on patrol right now."

Issac stood still, face twisting into a slight, puzzled expression. "I, uh... Thank you, Commander..." The canid gave another practiced, swift salute. The female gave him a swift, friendly nod in return, Issac taking it as his que to leave. The solider marched back down the hallway to find the nearest break room, leaving the Commander to her own devices. Noveru closed the door, bringing up the transparent datapad closer to her eyes, her pupils coursing over the bright, cyan text;

-Long range surveillance probes have detected positive, trace amounts of element 214 (a.k.a; 'Zuchite')In outer rim of 'Lylat'. Probable remains of prototype space superiority fighter (Project 'Starburner') are highly likely to be located in-system. Deployment of recovery team and/or operatives recommended.

-Empyrean-class event chance is estimated as 'low', however, due to nature of 'Lylat', quick recovery of the prototype is critical. We're counting on you, Commander. You know what happened last time.

A/N: Unfortunately, this might be the last chapter I post for a while; the majority of the plot is a partly-unwritten mess, and I'd really like to correct that before I even think about moving this forward. Me being an overall slow writer doesn't help, either...