Fox let out a pained grunt as he was shoved forward into the General's command room, almost losing his footing on the carpet as he stumbled. He was still cuffed, now behind his back to hinder whatever futile attempt he could make to escape, not that he could get past the guards, anyways.

"Back so soon, Fox?" The dog lightly chuckled, slowly approaching the tod with arms crossed and eyes glaring, his small smile not matching with the rest of his angry expression.

"Very funny... You mind telling me what the hell this is all about?" Fox rebutted, internally cursing himself; he knew the General was unhinged, and teasing him wouldn't get Fox very far.

"Oh, I don't need to tell you, I just need to show..."

Rickenbacker approached the room's large conference table, the FDR and a military army-green laptop sitting idle to it's wooden surface, a wire plugged in and hooked up between the two devices. The general spun the laptop around, it's screen open up to the recorder's internal storage application, with it's data readouts completely blank.

"As you know, McCloud, this box is designed to record a ship's various significant flight parameters, engine performance, things like that... Now, this particular military model can also store classified mission data, things only the Captain has access too, you know?"

"...Yeah."

"Now, here's the problem." The dog's voice was becoming increasingly strained, as if he was building up to a yelling fit. "...This recorder, for some reason, is blank. You mind telling me why, seeing how you were only one of four people to have access to it after the Pathfinder's untimely destruction?"

"Uh..."

"Because if you don't, McCloud... Well, let's just say your team will miss you dearly, understood?"

"Fine." Fox hesitantly grumbled, not sure if the dog had heard him. "I didn't touch the thing myself, you probably know we're running short on credits, and wiping the data or whatever wouldn't be a great idea financially. Plus, you know me and Pepper have a lot of history between us, and me just betraying him like you think I did with you doesn't make sense."

"Get to the point, McCloud." The dog grumbled, patience wearing thin.

"It doesn't make sense that your blaming me for all of this; I was unconscious for the trip back to Corneria anyways, so I couldn't really keep the thing safe."

"Were you the one who found it initially?"

"No, Falco did."

"And where is he now, hmm?"

Fox already knew his friend was probably responsible for the recorder's lack of data, but the General was already narrowing down possible suspects, and Fox's feathered friend was next in line.

"...Said he needed to do something in the city, something important." Fox half-lied, only giving the dog a vague direction for Falco's whereabouts, Fox wasn't even sure if the bird was in the city anyways at this point.

"More important than this meeting? I don't buy it."

"Sorry, that's where he went." The tod only shrugged, not really sure what the dog would do or say next.

"We're not done here, McCloud; what about the rest of your team? Surely you didn't go in at half-"

"-It was only me and Falco." Fox interjected, the dog's face scrunching up into a frown. "Besides; he'd have no reason to steal the data anyways, we haven't looked inside it so neither of us know what's on it, obviously." Fox retorted back. He remembered Falco finding something related to the recorder's data before he set off security somehow, but couldn't quite place a finger on what it was exactly. Telling the unhinged General wouldn't earn him any points anyways.

"That changes nothing, McCloud. Somebody had to have tampered with it, and as I've said, you and your team were the last ones in possession of it. I only have four-er, three suspects to narrow it down too, and that damn bird running off as soon as you land is mighty suspicious, don't you agree?"

"To someone like you, yeah, I can see that. But didn't it ever occur to you that someone on the Pathfinder's crew have someone to do with it? Fox raised an eyebrow, pressing the question further. The dog's expression contorted slightly, he'd probably already considered the possibility. "Or is that too much work to start investigating a dead crew, and we're an easy scapegoat for you?"

Instead of yelling back as Fox expected him too, the dog only grumbled something inaudible under his breath. He spoke after a few seconds of thought, probably thinking of a way to realistically keep the blame pinned on Star Fox.

"Very well... We're done here, you'll be escorted to a cell on-base until we figure out what to do with you."

"I-uh, what? You can't do that, you haven't proven that we've done anything!" Fox franticly protested, starting to panic. The dog's face contorted into a snarl, balling his paws into fists and breathing through his nose. He glared down at the vulpine, eyes like daggers stabbing into Fox's very soul.

"Can't do that? Can't, do that?" The General seethed, slowly approaching Fox. "I am well within my rights to detain you, I don't need to prove anything yet..."

The vulpine could tell he was building up to a yell, the dog's fists almost quivering in sheer anger.

"You, Fox McCloud, are under arrest for breaching your government contract, and espionage!" The dog was now practically spitting in his face, waving a finger.

"What? Falco probably ran off with it, I didn't do anything!"

"Even if your furry ass is innocent, you're still damn responsible for him, McCloud! Do you have any idea what will happen if he leaks that data, if that thug hasn't already?! The entire Lylat system is going to be turned upside down, and the public will want Pepper's head on a damn platter!"

"Wh-what? Why?" Fox sputtered, not buying the fact that Pepper would do something deserving of such an act.

"Oh, you probably already know don't you? No, I'm done talking to you, McCloud. Gentlemen, please cuff and escort our guest, remove him from my meeting room."

Pretty much on cue, the door leading to the hallway slid open, with the General's two personal guards stormed in, weapons drawn and pointed at the vulpine's face.

"Make this easy for us McCloud." One said, holding the barrel of his heavy blaster level. "Come quietly, and we won't need to get rough." The other solider flicked off his safety just like before, not completely trusting Fox to do the right thing.

The tod rolled his eyes. "I'm already cuffed, not like I could feasibly escape, you know..."

"Whatever, get moving McCloud."

"...Damnit, fine."

Reluctantly, Fox marched over to the two soldiers, one grabbing his right arm and the other leading. He turned to face the General one last time, receiving a smug look back before the closing door blocked line of sight.

Richard gently maneuvered the Cornerian shuttle above it's designated landing pad, the station's clean air providing for the craft's intakes; the shuttle carried air-breathing engines along with it's liquid methane-fueled conventional thrusters. The husky brought the ship to a slow hover, applying vertical thrust to slowly set down the ship. With landing gear unfolded and lowered, the shuttle finally set itself down, being the first time it had been landed anywhere since the ill-fated Pathfinder.

Richard unbuckled his flight harness, taking a deep breath in, relieved to finally be somewhere that could provide refuge from the uncaring void of space. Nora did the same soon after, waking up to the door perpendicular to the troop bay leading outside into Port Arknez's docking hub. Richard noticed the fox, eager to leave the confines of the dropship. He cleared his throat to grab her attention, putting his paw up.

"Hold up, Lieutenant... Few things you should know about this place before we head outside..."

Nora turned her fluffy head, giving the husky her full attention. "Yes?"

"Well, as you could probably guess, Arknez isn't exactly what I'd call... Welcoming, to Cornerians. Long story short, a few years back after this place was built, there was an issue with the station's local leadership. Being so far out, they decided to declare independence during the war. A navy detachment moved in, things got bloody, and a good few innocent people got caught in the crossfire."

"I-I didn't know..."

"Few did, navy kept in under wraps best it could for a few years, but when word got out people just seemed to blame it more on the war then anything else.

Nora simply nodded, with a small sign of sorrow across her face; She knew Corneria wasn't perfect, but to hear about the incident seemed to harm their image even in her eyes as somewhat of a loyalist. Reality cared not for her soured mood however, with Richard grabbing the door's latch and pulling it down, releasing the locking system and allowing it to swing open.

The station's stale-tasting, but flowing air attacked Nora's nose as she stepped outside behind Richard, the sights and sounds of Arknez's gigantic vaguely cylindrical docking bay looming overhead and pretty much everywhere else was a sight to behold. Ships of almost every classification, manufacture and size filled the open space, some arriving and settling down on landing pads, with others leaving for parts unknown. Nora couldn't help but watch for a few moments, focusing her view on a large freighter and it's fighter escort depart the station.

"Eyes forward Lieutenant, we're not here to sightsee." Richard's voice cut into the fox's trance, snapping her back to the reality of the situation. She could probably spend hours watching the ship traffic, being easily fascinated by starships since she was a kit.

"Right, yes sir."

The two Cornerians made their way to the central walkway connecting the smaller landing pads, eventually leading to a small security checkpoint. The pads were built into a grid pattern, with their shuttle being one of many smaller craft to have landed. A few other ships Nora could easily recognize for them being common models, with others being more custom-engineered or heavily modified by their owners, adding additional armor, subsystems or weapons depending on it's purpose. The few with custom 'paintjobs' only added to the sense of identity some craft had.

The two passed by a few of the station's residents as they walked, drawing strange and sometimes dirty looks from passerby's along the walkway. Most seemed to be a healthy mixture of Venomians, with a few lupines added in. Richard saw few, if any of Cornerian-looking canids could be seen, definitely one of the station's minorities, he thought. A rather shifty-looking wolf sat on a stack of small cargo containers off to the side, chewing what Nora presumed was gum by the pack on the crate next to him. The lupine shot a glare at her, his dirty coat of brown fur becoming more apparent, along with his grimy trench coat over a black flight suit. The fox averted her eyes, gripping the carbine's shoulder strap firmer, looking for some sort of comfort in the gun's presence.

"Better watch yourselves here, I'd reckon you two already know why." The wolf said, looking Richard in the eye, the husky only returning a firm nod.

The walk to the security checkpoint was mostly uneventful, save for the occasional glare. They reached the small structure that Richard could loosely call a fortification, it being little more then a glorified gate. Two armed guards manned the checkpoint, along with a small sentry gun set up on the deck. The guard on the left immediately noticed them, thanks to the two's Cornerian uniforms.

"Ohho, what do we have here?" The armed simian chuckled, approaching the two canids. Nora could easily pick up his foul breath as he spoke. "Some Cornerians huh? Heh, can't say we get anybody like you comin' out here, too far away from that cozy Navy a' yours I guess. Tell me, what business do you two got here? Can't be anything too major, I'd bet; You didn't show up with a small fleet again, just that shuttle."

Richard thought for a moment before responding, thinking about what little he knew about Arknez's local customs. It amounted to little, other then it's manufacturing-based economy.

"You'd be correct, we're..." He chose his next words carefully, not wanting to reveal where they had came from exactly "...Our patrol frigate ran out of supplies on the trip back to Papetoon, so I, along with her... Uh, volunteered to make the trip here." It was only a half-lie, but he still wasn't sure if the simian would buy the story.

"Ehhhh..." The simian looked Richard up and down, seeing his Captain's uniform and it's current worn condition, along with Nora's. "...Not sure if I really believe that..."

"We're not looking for trouble, we're only here for supplies and fuel for the shuttle, nothing more." The husky asked, not wanting to really argue on the point. The less time spent here the better.

"Well... Can't say I really trust you, bein' Cornerian and all... But..." The guard looked over to his comrade, receiving a strange look from the grey-furred fox. "...Fine, talk to my partner over there, he'll get you through into Arknez proper, I guess..."

Richard nodded a silent thanks, slowly approaching the second guard. The fox quickly motioned for him to stop, pointing to the husky's revolver.

"Hand me that thing; I'll need to switch out it's ammunition load, otherwise you fire that in here and there's no telling what you'll hit. Might puncture a fuel line or a generator, then you'll really have something to worry about, Cornerian."

"Ah... Fair point, didn't intend to use it anyways..."

"Right..." The fox mumbled, tone mocking. "Doesn't matter, I'll exchange it, first time's free luckily for you."

Richard pulled the gun from it's holster, careful not to point it at the guard or finger the trigger. The fox swiped it from his hands with a distrustful look, setting it down on a nearby table.

".357 magnum, right?"

"Yeah."

The vulpine leaned down, grabbing a green crate from underneath the table, setting it down with a weighty thunk. He undid the latches holding it closed, and began fishing around for what Richard presumed was ammo.

"...What happened 'last time'? As you put it?" Nora piped up, watching the fox dig for the correct caliber.

"Ah... Some guy brought something large-caliber aboard a few months back, got himself into a firefight at one of our solar refineries. Hit something he shouldn't have, window or something... Long story short... Ah, there it is." The fox reached out of the crate, placing six new rounds next to the gun. In a practiced motion, he swung out the cylinder, quickly exchanging the magnum rounds tipped with a plaster-like substance, along with a smaller propellant charge. It would be more then enough to drop a soft target, but with less risk of collateral damage.

He handed back the gun to Richard, pocketing the regular rounds. "You'll get these when you get back, they're not going anywhere. The vixen with her carbine is fine, just adjust the focus lens."

Nora hastily nodded, not wanting to converse with the vulpine any more then she had too, occupying her time by doing what he ordered by adjusting a small switch nearby the weapon's trigger.

"Alright, I can't guarantee you'll be safe on our streets for obvious reasons... So, watch each other's backs, I guess... Or don't, can't say I really care enough."

"...Thanks."

"Get outta' here, you're clear to head on through."

Richard nodded once again, him and Nora quickly passing through the security field, and made their way down the stairs leading from the small pad down to 'street' level. The station's inner docking bay was large enough to house small apartment blocks and other scaled-down buildings, some being built during Arknez's initial construction, while others being thrown together out of second or third-hand materials. Nonetheless, the small 'city' the station housed was far from uniform in layout or almost anything else, really.

Richard set a foot on ground level, the worn metal floor showing off it's years of use and wear. Arknez wasn't exactly what one would call lawless, but openly carrying firepower certainly deterred anyone from trying anything.

Nora stepped down on the deck behind the husky, scanning the street left and right with only her vision. The sector of Arknez they had been directed to was sparsely populated, with the smaller shuttle pads acting only as big parking spots.

The station's street was home to only a few vendors and shops, some built into specialized shipping containers, with others being little more then carts with signs. Despite the visual chaos and clutter of Arknez, one thing stood out as one of the few standardized items the two could see: Wind chimes. Some being ones Nora could find at her grandmother's house, made of polished metal and wood ornaments, with others being little more then strips of metal held together by wire. The station's wind current would blow the devices around as it flowed like a rive through the streets, producing a multitude of sounds as the chimes knocked and clanged together. They seemed to be everywhere, hung from pipes, doorways, power conduit; nearly everywhere that would be a convenient spot to hang one.

"We have any idea where we're headed, Captain?"

Richard sighed, looking around for any sort of direction or signs, coming up with little. "Well... It's easily another two days of flight time to Papetoon, so food and fuel's our only priority. Getting really sick of eating those fruit bars anyways, I say we get something real to eat before anything though." Richard was usually one to call his subordinates by rank first, but judging the current situation, it just seemed pointless for the moment.

"Yeah... Uh, yessir..."

Her superior waved Nora off as the two proceeded down the street, the scenery and sounds remaining largely unchanged as they went. Nora figured they wouldn't need to walk far to find some sort of bar or restaurant; any sort of establishment that served some sort of warm meal was all she cared about, not being picky for anything in-

The sound of someone running up behind her snapped her attention away from food, quickly turning her head around to see a small vulpine running up behind them. Before Nora could say anything, the fox collided with Nora's back, with the assailant grabbing for her blaster carbine. The lieutenant reacted quickly, swinging out her right arm in attempt to hit the smaller fox in the face, holding the gun's strap with her left paw.

Thunk

The back of Nora's right paw smacked him square in his left eye, the stun of being hit so suddenly toppling him over. Without thinking, Nora brought the weapon to bear on the grounded vulpine, who currently resided face-up on the deck plating in a daze. Richard drew his own gun, keeping it at the ready should someone try and capitalize on the moment.

"Ahhh..." The fox moped, clutching the region on his face where Nora had struck him. "...What an asshole..."

"Don't move." Nora hissed, taking a closer look at the fallen vulpine. He seemed to be an arctic like her judging by his dirty coat of white fur, but had dyed his tuft of messy hair bright red, along with the tip of his tail. His clothes weren't in much better shape either.

"I don't know who you are kid, but I'd recommend not trying that again." The husky confronted, receiving a look of pure hate in return, the fox narrowing his eyes and showing teeth.

"Screw you..."

Richard sighed, looking down at him. "Get out of here kid, go find someone else to mug. That lifestyle of yours is gonna catch up with you, someday."

The fox didn't seem to know how to respond, Nora almost seeing the mental gears turning in his mind. Perhaps part of him knew Richard was right, and that it was only a matter of time before someone didn't take too kindly to his lifestyle. He only continued to glare in the meantime, slowly picking himself off the deck and beginning to walk away.

"I'm already sick of this place, let's find some food, Nora."

The walls of McCloud's cell seemed to hold an oppressive atmosphere as he kept glancing at them, not having ever gotten quite used to them. The solid concrete walls slightly reminding him of a certain drainage tunnel, but much less cold. He sighed, idly swinging his legs as he sat on the cell's small wall-mounted cot, it just being slightly too small for him, not that he planned on sleeping here for long anyways.

"Damnit Falco..."

Despite his friend's clear involvement and his partial responsibly for Fox's current situation, he couldn't bring himself to be entirely mad at the bird, more incredibly annoyed for doing things the way he did. Fox was still puzzled as to what he saw, whatever it was to make the bird take things this far.

"It can't be just flight data he saw, that wouldn't do... This. No, there's way more to it then that! ...Then what? Classified orders? Was it carrying something it shouldn't be? Something in Vega they found? Damnit, it could be anything!"

Fox balled a paw, squeezing until it almost hurt his skin. "Did he just go rouge? Was someone forcing his hand, or paying him more then I ever could? ...No, that doesn't sound like him, I know he used to have a gang, but why would they be involved? They seemed too-small time for something like this..."

Fox quickly became frustrated at his pondering yielding no result; He just didn't know enough for the time being. Too many unknowns.

"At least I know what I'm doing when I get out..."

Fox's ears and attention perked up at the sound of someone approaching his cell, walking down the hallway of the small cell block kept in a far corner of the command building. The vulpine's cell was at the end of the row, giving whoever was approaching a longer trip. He only heard a single pair of footsteps, so he figured it was one of the guards he'd quickly grown to dislike even after only a few hours of being stuck here.

He doubted it was one of his other team members too, Fox didn't think Slippy would stray very far from wherever Peppy went anyways, and there was little chance he'd be being let out by now anyways.

The footsteps grew closer, Fox recognizing the sound as belonging to combat boots on the tile floor, definitely a guard.

"Alright McCloud, here's lunch for ya'... Hope you like bread and veggies', heh."

The guard walked into view, him being a rather plain, almost generic Conerian canid. His helmet and forest-green body armor covered up most of his features, but Fox noticed his small floppy ears and short muzzle. Held in both paws was a metal tray, topped with some sort of brown mush that Fox hoped was bread, alongside a side dish of green matter.

"...That's what you're feeding me?" Fox grimaced, looking at the tray's contents, stomach beginning to turn.

"Yeah, you gotta' problem with it?"

"...I guess not..."

With a taunting grin, the dog placed the tray on the ground, giving it a push to slide across the ground under the door and into Fox's cell. The sound it made was more akin to someone's claws on an old chalkboard as it delivered it's payload of mush to the vulpine.

Fox didn't even bother picking it up, trying to force the thought of eating it out of his head best he could. "I'll eat it later..."

"No, you're going to eat it now, and I'm not leaving until you do. General's direct orders." The dog said, adding a taunting smile as he did so.

"...Seriously?"

"Yep."

Almost as if to torment the vulpine more, the guard pulled up an old plastic chair, sliding it in from a place against the wall outside of Fox's view. The dog happily plopped down, crossing his legs and relaxing; he was clearly planning to actually sit and wait.

"You gotta be kiding me..."

Fox hadn't noticed it before, but the guard had leaned his carbine against the wall next to him, probably having pulled it off his back. Eying the gun for a second, Fox looked down to his 'meal', reluctantly picking the tray off the floor. Carefully, he gave the brown mass a poke with his claw. Expecting to see it deflate with a rush of foul bread-air escaping, he was almost pleasantly surprised the loaf held it's shape.

"Well, it can't be that bad..."

Not wanting to prolong his exposure to the slightly disgusting loaf, Fox quickly wolfed it down, shoving it into his maw and sallowing it before he could taste too much. Thankfully, it went down his throat without issue, his stomach might not agree with it later though.

"Guess I've had worse..."

He turned his attention to the green matter remaining on the tray, the guard having called it a vegetable. His stomach immediately churned at the thought of eating the horrid green mass, looking like a mixture of various plat matter mashed into a paste. He'd seen the stuff before, compressed and packed into military rations, but those were significantly less gut-wrenching then what sat before him. He wouldn't be eating it.

The guard seemed to notice Fox only staring down at his food. "Hey, you're gonna finish that."

"...Fine..."

The vulpine grimaced, grabbing the fork and stabbing the green, pulpy mass. Trying to eat it faster then he could think about it's taste, Fox quickly shoveled a few lumps of the food into his mouth, sallowing as fast as he could.

"Slippy's cooking is better then this crap, and that's not counting the time he set the kitchen on fire..."

Fox set the fork down, sliding the tray back to the guard while trying to hold back a gag, concentrating on anything but the food he didn't even finish.

With a smirk upon seeing Fox's distress with the food, the guard snatched up the tray, throwing his rifle over his shoulder in preparation to leave.

"Heh, not too bad, I hope?"

Fox could only mumble under his breath, the guard walking away with merely a chuckle. He was soon out of sight, the door at the end of the hallway sliding open to let him leave.

"I've gotta get out of here..."

With a sigh, Fox retreated back to the cell's small cot, it being slightly too short for the vulpine's full hight. Just another reason to leave, Fox supposed. McCloud leaned down, placing his paws behind his head, trying to find any resemblance of comfort the tiny bed had to offer.

He wouldn't admit it just yet, but every minute Fox spent locked up the more dire his situation became. Every minute wasted here was another the General could use, Fox wasn't sure what for, but it was without a doubt unpleasant. He closed his eyes, pondering about how Slippy and Peppy were doing, and where they were. Falco's actions overtook any pleasant memories Fox managed to dredge up to occupy himself. Only furthering the mystery as to why he had gone and left.

The heavy feeling of drowsiness crept up unexpectedly after only a few minutes of lying down. He hadn't done much today; Certainly not enough to make himself tired. The feeling persisted, only growing stronger as the minutes wore on.

"...Dammit..."

With a long sigh, Fox surrendered himself to sleep, lying on his side to try and get comfortable however he could. The cell thankfully wasn't cold, at least. Deciding he would formulate a plan when he woke up, Fox shut his eyes once again, drifting off into the land of sleep less then a minute later.

BZZZT

Fox groaned, rolling over on the bed. Whatever had disturbed him only seemed to be temporary.

BZZZT

There it was again, the same noise. Fox tried yet again to fall back into prison-dreamland, but once again it persisted.

BZZZT

Forcing his eyes open once again, Fox found his surroundings and his cell cast in the dark.

"...Huh?"

BZZZT

The noise repeated itself, it's possible origin becoming clearer. It sounded electrical, like current skipping a gap between wires.

BZZZT

The room was instantly washed back into the dim light Fox had remembered before falling asleep. He turned his head before the cell went dark again.

The sound played again, with the lights flickering on once again.

"Can't even sleep in this place..."

Letting out a long, drowsy growl. Picking himself off the cot as the lights went out once again. He wasn't sure what to do, now that sleep was probably off of Fox's diminishing options table. Curiously, Fox approached the bars, quickly seeing the only light flashing in the hallway just happened to be in front of his cell.

"You gotta be-"

The light cut out again, Fox's face contorting into an expression of suspicion as he quickly realized something.

The flashing was consistent, down to the second.

Unless this was an actual electrical failure for his light and his alone, something, or someone was controlling current to the sole light.

The bulb flickered on once again, this time staying on after the previously consistent time it flashed before.

"...Hello?"

The light persisted for a few more seconds, then dimming itself. It started flashing, starting to slowly pulsate in light level. It repeated itself five times in short bursts, then seemed to pause.

"The hell?"

The light began flashing again, four short flashes, then followed by a longer one.

"Oh no..."

Fox picked up on what it was doing; Fighter signal code. It was a nearly analog method of long-range communication, mainly used between starfighters and other navy vessels as an emergency in case radio between ships was down. Simply put, it was little more then repeated patterns of flashing lights, Fox had learned the basics of it in his Academy days but never expected to really use it, let alone see it here.

The wall light flashed again, preforming three short pulses, then two long.

Fox knew what to expect from the light's pattern, but certainly not what would happen after it reached one.

"I'd better not see a single-credit bill come out of the wall..."

The light continued it's pattern, Fox wishing he could prepare better for whatever was about to come next. Seconds later, the last pattern Fox knew meant one came and went.

With a mechanical whine, the bolts holding the cell door simply retracted by themselves, followed by the door sliding open to the side under it's own power.

"So, that's how it's gonna be..."

The vulpine cautiously stepped out of his cell into the hallway, looking left and right to check for anyone that had remained in the hallway while he had been sleeping. Slightly satisfied from nobody showing themselves, Fox fully exited. The feeling of slight freedom already felt wonderful, despite him being locked up for only a few hours at most. He certainly didn't plan on going back.

The lights ran dimmer than usual, letting Fox see clearly in the hallway having to shield his eyes. Whoever was doing this was considerate, at least. With few other options, Fox quietly made his way to the other end of the hall, reaching the door undisturbed. The empty cell block clearly helped, as his light flickering and the sound of his door sliding open most certainly would've woken anybody else sleeping.

Fox quickly noticed a small, red, blinking light hiding in the dark above. The dim lights didn't reach into the corner, but Fox could see the vague silhouette of a small camera looking down on him. It was clear someone was watching him now, the vulpine staring into it's lens, hoping to look whoever was on the other end in the eye.

The security door slid open in front of him, no doubt by command from his unknown benefactor. With nowhere else to go, Fox peeked through the doorway, remembering the long hall connecting the smaller cell blocks on this level of the building. He jumped back slightly upon looking down, seeing the bodies of two Cornerian guards, unmoving on the floor.

"Damnit... The General's going to pin this on me..."

Fox couched down, looking to see if either of them were alive. He quickly noticed the lack of any sign of fight, or struggle. No obvious wounds or cuts on both guards, either. Both had collapsed on either side of the door where Fox had seen them posted hours ago, it was as if they had simply fallen over simultaneously without issue. He checked for a pulse on both, finding them each fortunately still alive.

Fox wasn't sure how to feel anymore; The fact that these two were still alive would give the General less legal ammunition, but the fact remained he was pretty much the only suspect to pin the blame on.

Sighing, Fox picked up one of the fallen guards electroshock rifle, slinging it over his shoulder. He considered checking the power cell, but quickly assumed the guard kept a fresh one inside the weapon before he mysteriously collapsed by the door.

"Sorry..."

Pressing onward through the dim light, Fox crept down the hallway, rifle held out front. He remembered the hallway led to a pair of elevator shafts. There was little doubt in his mind that whoever was watching him could control the lifts, too.

A good few long seconds later, Fox rounded a corner. Finally reaching the two pairs of elevator doors that served this floor of the building.

"...Another one?"

A third guard sat sprawled out motionless on the floor, probably having been taken down by whatever, or whoever had gotten to the first two. Fox's face became concerned, a hint of worry that he'd soon fall victim to whatever fate had befallen the guards. He forced himself to remain calm, settling on the idea whoever was in control of the building's systems clearly had something to do with it.

Fox reached the elevator panel, it marked with a total of 23 floors, not including the two basement levels. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he didn't need to answer that question himself. The elevator doors parted open, showing off Fox the brightly-lit interior of an awaiting elevator car. Fox looked around the hallway, finding another camera to stare at.

"Fine... I'll play your game..."

Sehbastian stepped out into the hallway from his small cabin, making sure to close- and lock the door behind him. He'd had issues with others in the crew stealing from him, and theft of seemingly random objects had gone up in the past few days, especially after they had loaded it into one of the Galleon's hangars.

The Galleon's hallways were little more then cramped, cold metal corridors. The ship was originally a large freighter, designed to haul standardized shipping containers from A to B, not support pirate raids and boarding actions. The Atlas-class superfreighter buried somewhere beneath makeshift armor and other slapped-on subsystems wasn't uncommon to be repurposed into a makeshift warship, with it being a common target of pirate attacks. Some found adrift would be hauled off to some old Venomian shipyard, cargo holds then ripped apart and replaced with trusses to hold weapon mounts and hangars for equally devious strike craft.

Of course, this didn't leave much room for crew space, let alone hallways. The lupine grumbled something as his ears clipped an overhead pipe, quickly remembering to duck for nearly every obstruction.

"Damn this ship..."

He had been ordered to consult the Captain; Something about parts simply vanishing and never turning up. Nothing critical had gone missing, minor things like loose parts, electronics, interior panels; Nothing that seemed vaguely related to each other, other then being made of some sort of metal. He personally expected it being some of the crew responsible, as Captain Pretrov didn't run as tight of a ship that Sehbastian would've liked. He certainly wasn't going to bother the Captain about it though, not yet anyways.

The halls of the Galleon stretched onwards, lacking proper lighting in some areas. Any proper warship wouldn't have a quarter of the problems the rebuilt Atlas did, but being far from a proper warship...

Sehbastian turned a corner in one of the ship's many junctions, approaching the Captain's cabin. The door had been reinforced with scraps of durasteel, easily being the strongest door on the ship minus the bulkhead blast doors. He gave the hardened door a swift, but solid knock. The Captain answered back after only a short moment, likely 'finishing up' with one of the ship's female crew members.

"That you, Sehbastian?"

"Yes sir, you wanted to see me?"

"...One moment."

After another full minute of waiting, the cabin's door slid open. A barely-dressed wolfess quickly stepped out, giving Sehbastian a strange look. She quickly scampered off down the hall before he could give her a second thought though. He stepped inside the cabin shortly after, seeing The Captain messing with one of his many ear piercings while sitting on the bed. The bedding was hardly what Sehbastian would call made, it only confirming his suspicion beyond any doubt. The room wasn't what anyone would call first-class, as bare metal and exposed conduit and other electrical equipment running along the walls didn't convey any sense of luxury.

"Captain?"

"Ah, yes... Quartermaster Sehbastian..." The Captain sat up from his bed, casually walking over to a small fridge the cabin originally came fitted with. "I'll make this quick. As you know very well, I-We... Have had a problem with theft. Now, I don't give rat's ass about petty theft, but things that have gone missing have become increasingly valuable. I've gotten reports of missing electronics, components, servos... Had one few hours ago of fuel cells from fighters just... Disappearing. Whoever is doing this certainly cannot hide these stolen goods forever, ship is only so big, you know? Now, before I give you authorization to disturb normal operations with ship-wide investigation, do you have any idea who is doing this? I have own suspicions, but you are better with these things."

"...Well... I've only noticed these reports on the rise only after we had hit that Cornerian ship earlier, and ever since we brought that thing aboard."

"What thing?"

Sehbastian gave the Captain a puzzled look, as if he was somehow unaware what he had himself authorized to bring aboard less then 24 hours ago. "That big aircraft-looking thing? The one wedged in the Cornerian ship's fuel tank? It was missing a wing?"

"...Ah, ah, right, that thing. It is the strangest thing, yes? My men don't even like looking at it. But no, I don't think it has anything to do with theft. Go take a look at it , if you insist. But I don't think it's responsible."

Sehbastian raised an eyebrow, seeing the Captain's strange behavior and language, talking like it was somehow capable of stealing, almost personifying it in a strange way. He was right about the crew acting strange while being in it's hangar, always averting their eyes from it's presence, as if the plane was some sort of old king that would punish anyone who dared look at him.

"...Well, I've got no other leads as of now... I suppose that hangar is the best place to start."

The Captain chuckled, grabbing a drink from the fridge. "You're wasting your time, I think... But whatever you think is best."

Not wanting to spend anymore of the Captain's time, Sehbastian turned for the door. Before he could exit, however, Pretrov spoke up.

"Before you go... Just so you know, between you and me... The crew might not like it, but I plan on getting that aircraft-looking thing repaired. I know people who specialize in this sort of thing. If not... Then it will fetch good price with the Remnants."

"...I understand..."

"Good, now get out of here. I want this solved before we get to Venom in few days."

"Right, yes sir."

Sehbastian finally walked out of the cabin, the door closing behind him. He personally hated what they had brought aboard, he couldn't help but feel a sense of heavy dread weighing down on him even just thinking about it. With a sight, and not wanting to prolong the inevitable, he turned down the hallway, making his way towards the hangar.

Another few minutes of walking later, Sehbastian had reached the hangar's blast door, separating the large open space from the rest of the ship's interior. It could quickly be sealed off in case of a hull breach, provided the system was still working properly after the 'carrier' conversion job. There was no keycard of any sort, just a small keypad to enter a four-digit code into. The specific number was only really in place to keep some low-ranking deckhand from walking in and stealing something, but that clearly hadn't been working as of late.

Sehbastian entered his code, the keypad beeping in confirmation from receiving the correct input. Getting the right signal, the thick door slowly rolled open into the wall. He had expected someone to be left behind to guard it, but there was nobody about to do so. He would've considered it odd, but judging by what on the other side of the door, and how it the crew seemed almost afraid, the door being unguarded almost made sense.

"Alright, you weird piece of crap..."

Sehbastian stepped through the doorway, into the hangar proper. The gantries usually reserved to hold a small force of four starfighters had been dismounted and shoved against the wall, along with most of the support equipment. The fighters themselves had been moved to cold storage, or in other words, magnetically attached to the outside of the ship's hull. The current centerpiece, however, was the only thing he was really concerned about.

It wasn't really like anything he'd seen before, it was clearly a ship of sorts, but it just felt wrong. He couldn't describe the feeling as he laid his eyes upon it again. It's long, sleek fuselage seemed to be made of a single, featureless material. No bumps, seams, weld marks, anything to show it was assembled in any usual fashion could be seen, almost as if the entire craft was cast as a near-single part with it's smooth curves. It looked like it belonged more in the atmosphere of Corneria rather than deep space, with two large canards just behind it's opaque cockpit. It's main wings were swept forwards, massive things bigger then anything that should belong on a fighter. Two large engine exhausts stuck out behind it, each topped with two vertical fins.

As he'd seen before, one wing was missing from the craft entirely, likely shaved off from the violent impact from the Cornerian's Pathfinder. Sehbastian approached the craft, finally seeing how big it simply was. Just from mentally visualizing the average Lupine pilot's size compared to the ship's cockpit, it could've easily been built for someone standing a few heads taller. Any hope of it being from any faction he knew of in Lylat was thrown out the airlock entirely when the quartermaster noticed the large gun pod underslung on the intact wing. It looked like it belonged to a kinetic weapon, and a large one at that.

Pulling his eyes away from the craft, the quartermaster began looking around the hangar. The idea that someone was stealing parts and hiding them here wasn't lost on him, seeing how none of the crew liked frequenting this part of the ship, so perhaps someone had been leaving a stash here. His first stop was to poke around a few loose crates; Something he'd usually reprimand the crew for. Hard maneuvers from the ship could throw anything that wasn't tied, bolted down, or otherwise secured was commonly a hazard to anyone nearby. He'd seen the worse of it on other ships, and certainly wanted to avoid this ship's own cargo taking more lives then anybody they boarded.

Remembering he didn't have an incredible amount of time, Sehbastian began searching through the stack. It only took a few minutes, only coming up empty-pawed of anything regarding his little investigation. He kept searching, throwing around boxes almost haphazardly in an attempt to hurry.

"Damnit..."

Throwing his paws up in frustration, Sehbastian looked to the other side of the hangar, spotting another stack of loose cargo crates. He almost ran across, giving the craft sitting in the middle a wide berth as he did so. Begrudgingly starting to pop open the first one in line.

"...Hold on... It's just some crates, why am I panicking?"

Sehbastian slowed himself down, inwardly chuckling to himself about getting rather worked-up.

"Kinda strange, not usually not like this..."

Knowing the dry taste of alcohol was rather effective at calming him, Sehbastian reached into a pouch on his uniform, pulling out a metallic flask. He quickly took a swig, letting the bitter drink do it's work as he leaned against a crate near the wall. It was silly, really; The two days before the Galleon arrived at Venom was more then enough of time to find whoever was behind this little mess. Not that it mattered anyways, he'd steal a shuttle as they approached their destination planet anyways, should he fail.

The middle of his next drink however, unfortunately, was interrupted.

It started as a small, metallic crinkling noise, as if someone was crushing a ball of aluminum foil nearby. It quickly grew louder, and unless someone had a lot of foil in the hangar, the possibly the sound was simply in his head could be ruled easily and rapidly ruled out. Movement on the wall instantly caught his eye, with the stack of crates he'd searched earlier beginning to slowly move towards the middle of the hanger.

Sehbastian reached for his holstered sidearm with his left paw, not wanting to drop his flask.

"Stop it right there!" He yelled, raising his blaster pistol to point the gun in the direction of the wandering crates. Nobody responded however, and the pile soon toppled over. Parts spilled out across the deck plating, power cells, tools, electronics- all dumped into one giant mess. They too, however, began moving under their own power, all drawn towards the middle of the hangar across the floor, like a big magnet dragging up shards of scrap metal.

Sehbastian wasn't quite sure how to react, so his twitchy paw decided for him. Squeezing his gun's trigger, the gun went off with the usual ruby-red muzzle flash and bang, sending an ionized beam of gas into the pile of moving components. The narrow beam slammed into the mass in an instant, sending a small cloud of sparks and smoke where it impacted, boiling off moisture and fragile materials in a puff. Startled by the negligent discharge, Sehbastian nearly jumped in his fur, letting off another accidental shot, this time 'aimed' at the center of the hangar. The beam blazed through the air, impacting the craft's hull just below the cockpit. Instead of leaving a burn mark in the otherwise pristine hull, the shot simply ricocheted off where it had hit. Following in a new direction, the poorly-aimed beam instead found it's home in the roof of the hangar, or more specifically, an exposed fuel line.

Before he, or anything else really, could react, the entire room was consumed with a massive roar of sound and pressure, followed by a rather sizable fireball nearly an instant behind. Sehbastian found himself propelled through the air by the shockwave, slamming into the parked craft's hull. Sehbastian's world was quickly consumed by fire and excruciating pain, his vision shifting into black as he lapsed into the world of unconsciousness, but he didn't feel himself falling to the floor again as he finally passed out.

A/N: Sorry for the long wait, been going through some rough times at home as of late. Don't know when the next chapter will be up, but I'm not abandoning the story or anything.