3
In two hours the team had already geared back up for another assault. This time they'd be fighting in space within the chaos that was the two fleets beating the tar out of each other.
But at least they were prepared.
Telemetry and logistical data provided by General Pepper had given them the near exact locations of every capital ship in the quarrel that raged above Corneria. They weren't exactly uplifting figures, but at least it gave them a target.
Built right over Andross' base world, Venom, the Venomian fleet was comprised of an armada of highly advanced warships. Some of their types were already outdated, as with some of the fighters Starfox seen flying over the surface, but they were a sizeable force nonetheless, and they were beating the Cornerians into slag.
It turned out that the carrier they had successfully destroyed down on the surface was one of the planet-bound warships, so the carriers up in space varied greatly in design, most notably size. Acting as the main battlewagon, the Grazan-class, as it was called, served the dual function of launching offensive aircraft and missiles as well as swapping batteries with their Cornerian counterparts, the Galleon-class.
Both had predominately long, rectangular hulls for the launch bays, the ones on the Grazan bearing resemblance to a double barreled shotgun. Its bridge was relegated to the back corner of the craft, a tiny outcrop which, although in the open, was a heavily shielded target. Meanwhile the Galleon-class had two bays slung under a larger top section which held the bridge and laser batteries. Despite their seemingly equal roles, the Grazan class proved to be slightly more maneuverable. And if maneuverability failed it, there were always several hundred more where that ship came from.
As for smaller support craft, the Venomian fleet also had an advantage. It had a large compliment of Dorisby-class frigates which dated back to the first war with Andross. With only two heavy laser batteries on top of a long, slender hull, it didn't seem to be much of a threat. However, its front was decorated with Andross' ugly mug which unfortunately wasn't just for decoration; the Dorisby was also used as a literal ram to bludgeon into larger ships. This alone caused heavy casualties.
The Venomians also had a small number of what appeared to be a more advanced frigate which had not yet reached full fledged production. The Harlock-class as it was called was a much smaller ship, but it packed a much heavier punch. It had in upwards of ten heavy laser batteries as well as several launch tubes for anti-aircraft missiles, and to make matters worse its engine proved to be of superb design. Nevertheless, all of the compact technology took the role of defensive equipment; its shields had less than perfect strength and the integrity of its hull was abysmal.
And yet, even with these drawbacks, the Cornerians still suffered a disadvantage. Their frigate, the Forerunner-class, had almost as poor armament as the Dorisby-class and even less speed, making it a sitting duck. It was amazing that the Cornerians had won their first war with Andross at all.
Fox had picked several ships whose destruction would cause the enemy line to break apart. Most of them were Grazan-class, as was the majority of the Venomian fleet. This proved to be quite a dilemma since their shielding could withstand the lasers of their Arwings. But Fox figured they could use the same tactic that he'd used back on Corneria on the smaller carrier: wait for them to launch fighters or missiles, at which point the bays will open, and lob in some smart bombs. One alone couldn't significantly damage a Grazan, but in conjunction, bombs from the entire squadron could.
"Ok, check your G-Diffuser systems," he said over the squadron channel.
"Yeah, yeah…" Falco responded, "I'm fine this time."
"Good," Fox said, "Remember the plan. Stick together and stay on my wing. If things get too dicey then break up and we'll regroup back at the Great Fox. Speaking of which, ROB, you ready to give us some heavy support?"
"AFFIRMATIVE," the robot replied, "THE GREAT FOX IS PREPARED FOR COVER FIRE." If there was anything else the Great Fox was good for, it was blasting away enemy ships from long range with its two massive hyper lasers.
"Alright then, boys," Fox radioed, "Let's give 'em hell." And with that he gunned the engines of his Arwing which launched off towards the sparkling war zone before them.
"Oh shit! Watch that frigate!" Falco yelled into his headset as a Forerunner-class without power came barreling towards them. The group broke up and to the right, dodging the dead ship's final voyage.
This was incredible. Fox couldn't believe the scope of the fight once he'd seen it with his own eyes. There was nothing but ships and debris wherever he looked, and he couldn't look long before something else would start shooting at him.
Starfox was in the dead center of one of the grisliest slug-fests the Lylat System had ever seen. It was practically a free for all at this point. Communication between fighter squadrons and even between capital ships was practically nonexistent, and commanders and pilots alike were just trying not to run into that next laser bolt that whizzed by.
Fox brought the squadron around a dead hulk of a Galleon-class where they ran across a lone Dorisby seeking refuge behind the larger ship's carcass. It was their first target, and they intended to make best on their objectives.
He didn't even need to tell them to open fire; they all did simultaneously on their own. Using dual fire, all four Arwings started to pump sheer energy into the Dorisby's shields which fell at the drop of a hat. Immediately its hull started to burn away as the lasers continued their unabated barrage, slicing through deck plating and destroying the bulkheads below.
Its lasers couldn't even re-aim in defense of the ship before the attacking Arwings detonated the primary power reserve, engulfing the entire frigate in a shaft of fire which burned down the hull like a cigar lit from the inside out.
Fox yanked back on the stick and pulled away from the terrible explosion which followed. A quick glance to the left and right let him know that his team was still in one piece.
"Alright! One down, five to go!" he said into his headset.
They veered to the left, staring right down at the blue orb which was Corneria. A Grazan and Galleon eclipsed some of the world, pounding each other to dust, laser after laser, and salvo after salvo.
"Ok, guys, forget the plan on this one," Fox radioed, "Its shields are probably down… Right, Slip?"
"Roger that, Fox, that ship is going down," the frog responded giddily.
Nodding in affirmation, not that anyone could see it, Fox laid the tiny bridge of the Grazan-class right between his crosshairs and started mashing down on the trigger. After the first few shots, the rest of the squadron followed suit, and before long the tiny bridge was being bombarded by a hail of laser bolts. What little shields were left gave way, and the bridge now existed as a smoldering lump.
Without control, the Grazan began to list towards the planet, its gunners still firing at the besieged Galleon. The Venomian ship continued to list until the nose started to lean down towards Corneria, a sure sign that it was going to plummet into the atmosphere.
Immediately the guns stopped, and a few minutes later the escape pods began flying in all directions. The Galleon-class, battered and bruised, managed to limp away before the Grazan crashed into it. Although Fox couldn't see it happen, he was sure that the carrier drifted down into the atmosphere and burned up.
In fact he couldn't see it happen because right now he was leading his squadron in evasive maneuvers, dodging a salvo of anti-aircraft missiles which seemed to be targeted right at them and only them among the swarm of other Cornerian units. Juking to the left and then surging down, he managed to evade the first few missiles which crashed into a nearby Forerunner. Still flying in formation, Starfox started to zigzag around friendly and enemy ships alike in a dizzying pattern of evasion until their pursuers had either run out of fuel or crashed into an unintended target.
"That was too close!" Slippy radioed.
"Yeah, we'd better get moving before somebody else wants to fire off an entire battery at us, Fox!" Falco said, apparently more concerned about their welfare than the prospect of getting credit for more kills, a welcome change.
"Roger, we'll frag this last Grazan and pull out. It should be enough for the fleet."
He brought them around in a turning arc which got them head to head with an enemy carrier. It was about two miles in front of them, two miles full of nothing but fighters and lasers.
"Fox, it's opening up!" Peppy said enthusiastically, "This is it!"
"Right," Fox responded, "Everyone keep formation and get ready to launch bombs."
The Arwings closed on the Grazan as it opened up to discharge another salvo of missiles into the fray. Soon they were right in front of it, only some 100 meters away.
"Ok, guys," Fox radioed, "Aim and…"
At that moment a Venomian fighter slammed into the nose of his Arwing from the topside. The shields unleashed a hail of electric tendrils and sparks as the enemy fighter disintegrated on it like a frying pan. The sheer force pushed Fox's Arwing straight down towards a destroyed Dorisby-class that smoldered below.
His arms flung up in defense of his face only to quickly grasp the yoke again and hit the braking thrusters as the battered hull encompassed his entire canopy. With all his strength he pulled back on the yoke, skimming the ship carcass below with his shields which, at this point, were nearly non-existent.
"Fox! Are you…" Peppy quickly radioed in worry.
There was no time to waste. They had to destroy the target.
"Fire!" he yelled into his headset.
The three remaining Arwings unleashed their payloads, firing two bombs each right into the starboard launch bay of the Grazan. The explosion they yielded ate through the ship from the inside like termites would eat through a tree. Within seconds its core went critical, and everything with 100 meters was hard pressed to escape the blast.
This included Fox who had jumped out of the oven and into the frying pan. Just as quickly as he'd pulled up, he was pushing down to evade the explosion, the light from which turned his entire canopy white and blinded him. Expecting to be dead, he opened one of his eyes to find himself spiraling down towards Corneria, his teeth still clenched.
Sighing in relief, he pulled back up 180 degrees and saw the bulk of the firefight from below. It was quite the mess, with pieces of innumerable starships flying in all different directions, only to smash into the innumerable starships which were still in one piece.
"Fox, are you ok?" Peppy radioed, his location unknown to the pilot who was now lost in the fray.
"Yeah, I'm fine, Peppy," Fox replied, "Take the squadron out of here before…"
"Hell no!" Falco blurted out, "We didn't come this far to turn tail! Let's keep fighting, there's another cruiser that..."
"Are you insane?" Slippy piped up.
"Shut up, froggy, nobody asked you…"
"Hey, hey! Cool it!" Fox hollered into his headset. "Start making your way out of this scrap and kill everything you can along the way. That's an order!"
It took a few tense seconds before Falco muttered "whatever" over the radio.
It wasn't incredible anymore. Now it was just insane. Fox was dodging lasers and kamikaze fighters only to have his team mates fighting while out of reach at the same time.
At least his instincts as a pilot were clogging his outlook on this. He was far too busy trying not to die to be worrying about them fighting. Then again, maybe he should have been more worried, being the leader, but when it came down to it he had better things to do at this moment in time.
Fox did a barrel roll to the right only to come on the tail of a Venomian fighter. The enemy pilot didn't seem to notice him, instead focusing his efforts on a Cornerian Mark II interceptor in front of him. And in front of the snub fighter was another Venomian fighter.
He took advantage of being at the top of this makeshift food chain; after spreading the first bandit across the stars, he leapfrogged over his ally and shot the next one to pieces. Luckily he wasn't using the same channel as that pilot; otherwise he'd be getting an earful right about now about stealing his kill credit.
Juking to the left, Fox started to fly towards where his radar reported the Great Fox to be. But it wasn't as if he'd escaped the firefight now. Ground Zero extended for miles and miles on end, and he'd have to fly right through it all to get home.
Hell, he had time.
Fox noticed a Forerunner dealing it out with a Harlock just above his flight path. The Cornerian vessel was coming apart. Flames licked from its blown out gun ports and its engines fizzled down to nothing. Meanwhile the Harlock-class was having a merry old time shooting its foe to tiny bits with all of its guns blazing.
He placed the Harlock's engines dead in his sights where he held down the trigger for the lasers to charge at the front. When the green ball of energy started to creep out from under the nose of his Arwing, he hit the trigger, releasing the power swell which quickly overpowered the Harlock's shields.
Its shields were already weak from the firefight, so they gave way with little effort. When the charged shot kept going, it burned through the light hull plating with ease, the main thruster getting a face-full of pure energy. Something inside of it exploded and the fire blew out from the back of the thruster. The force of this explosion sent the frigate into a dizzying cartwheel forwards. Fox could only grin at what the crew must have been thinking as the stars abruptly changed course in their eyes.
Sparks suddenly dashed across his canopy. He quickly looked up to see an enemy fighter attacking from above, just like the one from before, only this one had the common sense to fire instead of collide.
Fox, knowing that he could turn enough for this, yanked back on the stick while firing at will. His somersault briefly brought him face to face with the enemy, and by a stroke of luck one of his shots hit it square in the cockpit, shearing the ship in half in the blink of an eye. Fox kept turning until he'd resumed his original heading.
With no evident threat this second, Fox's mind started to drift away to the whereabouts of his team mates. Though space is cold and silent, the sound of his lasers firing off and the whine of his engine apparently blotted out what his comrades were saying over the radio. Still, this shouldn't have been enough, so he assumed that it was because he was too preoccupied with trying to survive.
But now that he was paying attention, he heard all kinds of things. His ears picked up Peppy shouting as if to his enemy, "I won't let you get away from me!" Meanwhile Falco was gloating about scratching another bandit, and Slippy was hollering that he got one.
And then their transmissions turned desperate. Phrases like "he's on me" and "incoming" flooded the squadron channel.
Fox wished he was there with them as he dodged incoming laser fire and obliterated another opponent before they collided.
Ten minutes seemed like thirty. Fifteen minutes seemed like an hour.
Fox had managed to break out of the scrap with his Arwing intact, only to arrive at the Great Fox and find that nobody else had escaped.
Yet, hopefully, he thought.
Needless to say he was getting worried. He wasn't picking their radio transmissions either, but that was probably because of the hole in the nose of his fighter.
As expected, sooner or later his shields gave out, and some foolish Cornerian jockey in over his head started spraying a group of enemy fighters at long range. Fox happened to be in the process of shooting them down from behind when his "ally" struck, managing to hit him once in the front during his wild barrage. Fox actually considered himself lucky: after all that it was friendly fire that managed to do some damage.
The hole was an unnerving sight, but according to the Arwing's computer it wouldn't be fatal. The sensors had narrowly missed destruction, allowing him to return to the Great Fox, but it seemed as though his communications gear wasn't in the best of shape.
Fox had cut the engines, free floating far away from the battlefield under one of the Great Fox's massive wings. At this point he could do nothing but wait and watch as his base ship occasionally opened fire on some Venomian vessel or another, its destruction too far away to be seen with the naked eye.
Since he'd cut his engines, there was barely any noise coming from his ship. The silence was deafening. He felt alone…
Out of the corner of his eye he caught a bright flash from an ion engine. A shade of blue indicated that it was powered by a G-Diffuser.
Sure enough, out from the black sheet of space materialized the rest of his squadron, alive thankfully. They slowed down and started coming for a pass, right next to Fox's drifting craft.
The first Arwing to arrive was Falco's. Unscathed, miraculously, it appeared. Fox figured he must have had an easy time blowing things up with his squad leader out of the picture.
Falco twisted his Arwing to the side so he could get a clear view at Fox's cockpit. The bird looked down at him and seemed as if he was yelling something. With nothing else to do, Fox simply tapped his headset with his finger and shrugged. Falco shook his head before muttering something and hitting the engine, soaring off and away to get in position for landing.
The next Arwing that came by sent a chill right up his spine the moment he laid eyes upon it. It looked as if it'd been chewed up, spit out, and then stepped on the damage was so severe. It didn't come as a surprise to find out it was Slippy's ship.
What was surprising was that it was still flying.
And then came along Peppy, his wings nearly shot to pieces. Fox could only guess at the reason for this, but it probably involved rescuing Slippy's worthless butt while Falco cared less and shot something up. It looked bad, but there was still the silent reassurance he could count on Peppy for real backup when he needed it most.
Fox let out a sigh as he powered up the engines again. This mission went even worse than the first one. He felt like he was setting a trend.
Sliding down from the cockpit, Fox landed right in front of Chuck. His eyes stared at him, unblinking and in accusation, and his arms were crossed.
"Doesn't look like the G-Diffuser to me," he said in an annoyed tone.
"Ok, look," Fox said, wanting to avoid another confrontation as best as possible, "I'm sorry for getting uptight about it. I've just been a little… I dunno, stressed out lately."
Chuck just looked at him, though his expression became less severe.
"Can you fix all this?" Fox said, motioning back towards the blackened line of fighters.
"Well," the raccoon said in a slow drawl, "That Slippy'd better take better care of that ship. It'll be a hell of a patch job. As for the rest, I'm sure I can handle it."
"Great, tell me when we're good to go again. There's still plenty more out there."
"Sure thing."
Well that went well, Fox mused as he stepped aside and made his way to the exit, Could've been worse…
"So, what, you couldn't just join up again?" Falco practically yelled into his face.
It got worse.
"I lost sight of you guys. Isn't my fault there must be a couple hundred squadrons operating out there," Fox said in his defense.
Falco was about to holler something else when he caught Peppy in the corner of his eye. The expression he bore was that kind that burned right into you, and could be interpreted as either "Speak for yourself" or simply "Shut up".
"You'll end up killing us all, I swear," Falco muttered as he stormed off.
Peppy walked up alongside Fox who just watched as his angry team mate practically kicked the door down to leave the pilot's lounge. Meanwhile Slippy had taken his name to heart and had already slipped away from the scene.
"Don't take it too hard, Fox," the old rabbit said, "He's just as stressed as you are. Can't help it, I guess."
"Yeah…" Fox replied, "But he's right. I shouldn't have lost track of the rest of you. I nearly got Slippy killed…"
"Hey, I'm always here to back you up," Peppy snapped, interrupting Fox's doleful statement while pointing a finger at him, "Don't go talking like that. We're a team. We're supposed to depend on each other."
Fox didn't reply. He just stared at the door Falco left through.
"You gonna be ok?" Peppy asked in concern.
"I better go talk to the General," Fox muttered, "We aren't going back out there any time soon."