Author's note: FoxTeeTrot would like to thank you, the viewers and welcome you to another chapter of M5. Just a heads-up there will be flashbacks throughout this story.

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Falco Lombardi laid in the solitude of his apartment, he faced the window, quietly. Early recollections-his memories punished him. He could feel it, the terrible shaking...the plummeting sensation. He was inside the cockpit again reliving the horrors of a previous existence. It came back in a flood of excitement...6...

5

4

3

2

1...

He was struggling to control the wheel. Dials, toggles, levers, meters, knobs and switches all flashed and wiggled violently. The console was filled with them. He used to understand what it all meant. Used to know how to operate his aircraft, the panic however reduced a pilot's confidence.

A missile had collided with him about five thousand feet ago. The rudders were rendered almost completely useless. Just then another rocket struck his left wing. It obliterated into a million pieces which scattered far and near. If it were any closer he would've been dead.

The force of the impact blew him back into his seat. He regained consciousness but wasn't sure how long he'd blacked out.

"Rocketeer, do you read? Over." Something warm drifted through his eyes.

It didn't sting, but judging by the consistency it must've been blood. His own blood coming down on him. It was all over now, staining the cockpit.

He had to help himself. Had to key the radio and call for help. The switch was located below his seat, mounted on the brackets to his chair. Again static hissed over his headset, it was Division Whiskey. The transmission was faint, dull, not near as intrusive as before.

It wasn't like he could do anything, even after his mind started working. Putting the pieces together, that ultimately he wouldn't survive.

The horizon spun wildly out of control. It was moving so fast he couldn't tell where the sky ended and where the water began. He let the fear in, took one deep breath and held it inside. Contained the horror.

The yoke, it shook and finally broke in two. It fell to the floor as a fierce vibration took over the entire compartment he was in. It felt as if the jet was tearing apart at the seams.

Nothing could be more terrifying, nothing was more real. And then the episode was over. He was reunited with the present.

An internal cry for help woke him from his slumber. The avian pilot sat up, felt his bed and finally himself. Unlike most nightmares his were actual events in the Corneria Air Core. Those days were well behind him, at times though he struggled to keep them there.

He lazily and yet clumsily removed his clothes. A jingle of his dog tags somewhat complimented a squeak of shower knobs turning. The porcelain or rather glass floor was cold, sobering. When the water came out it was warm, it was a relief. He held out his hands, gathered a small pool of water and submersed his face in it.

Later as he was adjusting the collar of his jacket his eyes drifted. They went over his shoulder down at the dresser beside the mattress. At the glass picture frame. But no picture was inside it. There were two medals, each with their own separate honor. His wings wandered down into the pockets of the bomber jacket. He left the privacy of his abode.

Space had its own way of disrupting sleeping patterns. Falco fell victim to it, despite his best efforts. He wondered what time of the day it might have been on Corneria. Out here there weren't days to gauge how long they'd been adrift in space. Just the starlight as it suspended a thousand miles away. It gave him hope that his feet would touch ground again.

Not that he was afraid but because the darkness grew old. Most evenings he spent in bed smoking the last drag of his day. He'd listen to the complete silence outside. Until the ringing in his ears grew unbearable. So late at night the air conditioner stayed on to give him something to hear.

They were close though, closer than the previous hours and days. Corneria was just another week away. Aquas would soon be a distant memory. Star Fox's last quadrant to navigate proved to be the most difficult.

The Meteo Asteroid Belt.

A place which frequented the news with ghastly stories of shipwrecks. To this day it remains the most treacherous space of the Lylat System. A sector most pilots steered clear of as if it were the plague. That was silly though. The only thing you'd catch there was a severe case of the 'willies'. If it's preceding reputation didn't stall your motors certainly some of the stories out there would.

Some asteroids were half the size of Corneria. He was thinking about one in particular but couldn't remember the name. A planetoid some excavators mined for a precious element. But they never returned, and this happened a few times. The cause of their disappearance was never determined. Was it hearsay, a hoax, or possibly cold hard facts backed by credible witnesses? No one knew and they'd be wrong to presume or doubt its credibility.

This wouldn't be the first time Corneria kept a secret from their people.

A mouth watering aroma bled out into the hallway. It was coming from the lunchroom. He was pleased further with their voices. At least now something else could be heard besides his own thoughts. She dressed in a white apron behind the counter. Familiar scents of croissants and pancakes made his stomach growl.

His hand moved, slid across the table as he sat down by the bar. He looked at her, though she didn't return the glance. Behind him was a table of travelers, they were loud, they were amused. Falco rolled his shoulder back, took a peep. About a dozen and a half of them surrounded a table. It gave him no chance at seeing what was going on.

The waitress-a coyote was stopping at each table replenishing the condiments. He couldn't keep an eye off her as she walked away. Her stride was long and emphasized her hips. He fought off the urge to stare at her rear. That pact didn't last long. Particularly when she bent over to reach the sugar canister.

Even this far away he underestimated a woman's intuition. That his coveting eyes could be felt. As they bared down on her body she sensed the desires air off him. He wouldn't let her see him, see the emotions stirring up inside him.

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