Author's Note: I was extremely surprised when I wrote this chapter as none of it was in the original concept. This chapter jumped into my mind and ad libbed its way into the storyline. I found the action to be refreshing, to have them outside their fighters for a change. I plan to write one more chapter! But many times what I plan originally normally turns into something completely different. Yes, fluffy Falco but some emotions are being revealed - but will they be returned?
You also might notice that Space Armada is not on route 3, but it stands to be that Fox and co. are not on their usual paths.
Slippy raked at his hose until he was back into his cockpit. He screamed, his instincts taking hold, "Guys, guys! Run!" He was hyper-ventilating. He hopelessly tried to escape. "Run, run, run!"
Fox and Falco both stared into the enormous fleet that was barreling through the space graveyard, crushing aside everything on their course. They both knew there was no where to run, as did Slippy though he continued in his desperate attempt.
Falco looked down at James once more before shoving the photo into his pocket. "I'm not going down without a fight, Fox. You hear me?" His air supply was down to a quarter remaining.
"Slippy!" Fox called but he was already out of his view, "Slippy!" His voice reduced to a choked whisper, "Damn it," the fleet had undoubtedly seen them – they were releasing their fighters. Fox watched his father's Arwing still tumbling, forgotten in time, undisturbed. "So be it. All ships check in."
"Ready, Fox."
The Arwings slowly made their way forward. Two stood before thousands and Venom would show no mercy. Falco had roughly five minutes of air, his Arwing buzzing warningly.
Fox closed his eyes, and for a few moments he was with his father in his prototype Arwing. They were well over their home planet, and Fox was laughing. They moved steadily over their home as he held onto his father's back, his dad always smelled of fresh leather and he leaned his head against his warmth. He watched as they ascended higher, now above the clouds, the sun in the distance blanketing the clouds in orange light. He and his father sighed together and shared a few seconds of silence. He set the Arwing to auto-pilot and moved his son from behind him, letting him sit in his lap. Fox pressed his hands and face against the windscreen, releasing little gasps at every little marvel. He tried to remember what words his father shared. He fell asleep against his father's chest.
Falco closed his. The wail of pipes, to which Falco was never a fan, sounded beautiful now. He stood beside Fox who cursed him behind tears for making him come. The casket was surrounded by hundreds, he felt out of place, but Fox thanked him. The ace was rarely off guard, but felt his defenses melt away when Fox wrapped his arms around him. He stared for a few seconds, feeling him press his face into his chest. He wrapped his arms around him too and began crying as well. 'Falco, why are you crying?' He had to admit, he wasn't even sure himself.
He just pulled Fox closer when it occurred to him; he wanted to tell him everything about his own excuse for a father: How he hated him. How he loved him. How hard he tried just to be accepted in his father's eyes, to have what Fox had, even for a little while with his father. He wanted to tell him that he'd be here for him: he wouldn't let Fox get beaten to death in an ally while he just watched. That he was a good son. That he didn't even get the chance to say goodbye.
"Thanks, Falco. Starfox, it's time to go to work."
They were showered with fire and the two roared as they returned fire, rolling away from damage and replying full-throttle. They added more Venom crafts to the graveyard.
Fox's ship shook and alarms announced that his deflector shield had finally given way to the constant punishment his Arwing took. He drew closer to the battleships, Falco at his side; his own ship no longer resembled the Cornerian gifts they received in what seems forever ago. A light opened in the battleship, the enemy docking bay.
"Fox!"
But Fox understood! If the Venom ships jumped through the wormhole with them inside, then maybe, just maybe, they could get out of here. They knew time was short, Falco more than Fox with a little over a minute to spare. And Pepper would detonate the Black Hole, they'd have to commandeer the battle ship and force the jump themselves. Fox veered his craft into the innards, into the very mouth of evil, laying fire on the crafts docked within it. He'd never seen the pilots of Venom, it made no difference, and they were shot down in their retreat. Falco close behind.
Falco and Fox leapt from their crafts into the bay, blasters at their hips. They immediately were forced into cover, sliding behind some munitions crates, side-by-side now Fox noticed Falco's bandaged arm. He realized the injury's cause. Blaster fire downpour, Falco tried to see what the source was. They seemed to be more machine than ape, "What the hell are those?" Fox blindly fired, hearing the ape-like sounds and the mechanical whirring of their joints as they took cover of their own, one shot found its mark, the creature screeched before it stopped moving.
"We've got to get to that control room, it's our only shot."
Falco nodded in reply. "Pizza-cake."
Fox looked down, worried about the toad. "On three." He could hear the aparoids drawing closer. "One-" but a small-robotic arachnid rolled around to their side of the crates and began radiating a light; it began to flicker faster and faster. "Three!" They both bounded over the crate and fired into the apes, the spider-bot exploding behind them: walking grenades. They felled the wave of Venomian Soldiers but watched as more and more spiders began to grow in number.
Falco pointed to a doorway and he dashed ahead, checking for enemies before motioning for Fox to come. He laid fire as he made his way to the door, the spiders exploding with each shot. They turned down the hall and were again targeted by the apes; Falco dove for a spider-bot and flung it into the resistance. The aparoids were reduced to spare-parts from the following explosion – shards clinked past their feet and smoke wisped by. Falco moved ahead to the end of the hall checking before motioning for Fox to move up. He noticed the disturbance in the smoke, "Behind you!" But Falco turned around a moment too late. Fox saw the blaster-bolt rip through his chest. "No!" Fox replied with a headshot. Falco stood there and began to collapse, Fox dove to catch him.
"Shit, no, Falco!"
"I swear it was clear." He groaned, the blood pumping from the hole near his shoulder, opposite of his broken one. "Are you going to leave me?"
"No way, I don't care if this place blows with us in it; I'm not leaving you here."
"You're an idiot," Falco smiled, he pulled himself to his feet; he was shaky, but was certain he could walk.
"Don't move too much – wait on me, I'm going to check ahead." Fox dashed ahead, but things were strangely quiet. He heard a shot ring out behind him, on the floor now was an aparoid.
"They're using stealth. Fantastic." Falco held out his pistol, using the wall as support. Fox noticed that an elevator resided at the end of the hall. Behind them was something less inviting: swarms of spiders climbing over themselves, crawling quickly from down the hall at the two, there had to be hundreds of them. Fox frantically rushed and pressed the call button, Falco pulled his body beside him; they could hear it beginning to descend. Falco fired into the swarm, the small detonations threw a few closer to them; he delivered kicks, trying to drive them back. They drew closer, their pulsing-red lights filling the corridor.
"C'mon, come on!" Fox was pounding the button, trying to get a response! The shaft door opened, but with it more apes. Fox was struck once, twice, three times the bolts tearing through his clothes and singeing his legs and face; the Fox fell to his back and returned fire dropping them – his skin was on fire, he hissed in pain. "It's open!"
Falco found the strength to drag Fox into the lift delivering shots back until they were both safely in. They fought to get air in their lungs, Falco struck the bridge button. "Not bad, buddy…" Falco coughed into his hand, and there was blood. "You certainly shoot better than you fly."
Fox smiled but was heaving too heavily to get a response off, he held up a thumb. Falco extended his hand and grasped the other's, pulling Fox to his legs. A sound surrounded them. It reminded Falco of his old tin roof, back in Corneria, the rain that pattered against it when he was home alone. The sounds weren't of a pleasant source, they watched as the spiders fought to pull through the floor and roof of the elevator. They were getting closer and closer, their sharp legs pulling at the metal framing. There was a loud hiss and the lift door slid open, the spiders vanished.
The dark room had a blue glow from all the machinery and display screens – but it was empty. Falco stepped inside, his pistol at the ready. The computers hummed quietly, their lights pulsing. Why was this place empty? He stepped further in, looking over the systems – sure enough, they were on autopilot, and it displayed their escape route! Fox stepped beside him, and holstered his pistol.
Falco gave a thumbs-up and turned back to the console, "I can jump it from here." He slid a switch upward, "Yeah, I think we're going to make it out of this alive after all!" Fox fell to the ground with a thud. "Fox?"
There was sickening squeal, "Not quite." He licked his plasma knife.
Falco looked down at Fox, he wasn't moving. He murmured, his eyes welling up with tears, "What have you done!"
"Why I've expanded my kill count: two McCloud's. And here of all places, how quaint – I couldn't help but let you make it this far, it's been awhile since I've tasted the blood of the McCloud family."
Falco fell to his knees. He dove trying to listen for a heartbeat, listening for breathing. There was a forceful impact against his ribs throwing him from his friend. Pigma delivered a hefty kick. "Hands off my prey, birdie." He snorted and pushed aside his dark cape, pulling from it a blaster it was hiding.
Falco just wanted him to finish him right then and there. Pigma lifted Falco and pressed him into the enormous windscreen – the broken bone crunched against the impact. The pain shot through his body and he released a strained cry. He threw him to the ground again.
"Why you both showed up is beyond me, but I like surprises!" He licked his fat lips. There was a crunch, he lifted his large leg and pulled the crumbled photo from his boot. "Ah, now I see." Falco turned reach for his pistol and took a look to Fox. "No-no!" He drove his boot into Falco's wounds, dropping the gun. He groaned in pain, but surprisingly started laughing, it started low. "What?" his laughing grew louder. "What!" He kicked the gun aside in anger.
"We're already dead, all of us. Andross sent you to your death. Corneria knows you're here, Pigma. Here of all places, how quaint." He pulled his leg from his chest. "There's explosives ready to seal us all in here, and there's nothing you can do." He pulled the plasma knife and placed it to Falco's throat, the feathers singeing from its heat.
"Turn it off!"
"I can't, nobody can."
He grunted and pulled the knife away violently. He stepped to the large window and looked out. The shield-glass shattered with a boom, Pigma was blasted against a wall and dragged his body to another room in escape. An Arwing steadied itself after firing, Slippy screamed. Falco stood and ran for Fox – the pressure leaving the room, a vacuum ripping at the ship parts.
"Falco, jump! Get Fox out of here!"
But there was a deafening boom behind him, the noise rattled their bones; a wave of light began to spread disintegrating everything it touched.
The bomb had gone off.
Falco reached for the console and executed the command: jumping in five seconds.
'One.'
He dove for Fox, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him to his chest. "It's going to be okay, Fox. I won't leave you here." The explosion was drawing closer to Pigma's Battleship.
'Two.' Slippy screamed.
Falco pulled him closer, "If we make it out of this I swear to God I'll tell you everything."
'Three.'
Would the blast hit them before they jumped? Would jumping only speed their demise?
'Four.'
"Fox, please; just hold me again," and Fox wrapped his arms around him.
Falco Smiled.
'Five.'
