4
He was floating in space… But was he even wearing a suit? He couldn't tell.
Below him was some planet he didn't recognize. It looked green and sickly, the image blotted out or blurred. He couldn't seem to focus on it long enough to tell what it was.
What was that in front of him? Something was moving. It was moving pretty damn fast, too. It had a glow about it, a blue glow coming from the engines. Was that an Arwing?
Streaks of red light started to smash down upon it. Something was shooting at it, but from where? He looked up but couldn't see anything, and the firing stopped, so he looked back down.
The ship was much closer now. It was an Arwing after all, and it was spinning out of control, smoking and sparking after being shot at and apparently hit. It was coming right for him.
But he couldn't move. He flailed his arms as if to swim, but to no avail.
And then the Arwing was upon him, or more like in him. Its wing had speared him in the chest. He could feel it inside, and strangely enough he could feel the ailerons on the wing twisting.
Both the force of the blow and the pain came next, like a delayed reaction. It sent him spinning in a backwards somersault, feeling both dizzy and faint at the same time.
Gritting his teeth, he looked down at the ship lodged in his chest. The cockpit was glazed over in a pure black sheen; he couldn't tell who was flying it.
Immediately he tried to yank it out. He grasped the two big, blue wing pylons and heaved, but it wouldn't budge. The pain increased exponentially. He tried harder, but nothing would work.
As if on cue the engines of the Arwing exploded to life, and the ship pressed into him. The pain hit him once again like a shockwave, so unbearable he couldn't help but scream…
Fox sprung up in his bed in a cold sweat, heart beating wildly and his breathing quick. It took a moment for him to settle down and regain his senses.
He couldn't sleep that night, or better yet it took him long enough to fall asleep only to have a nightmare. A quick glance at the clock told him it was 4:51 AM.
Perfect, it was only thirty minutes long, he thought.
Fox fell back down in his bed, letting his head hit the pillow which broke his fall. This night was unbearable. He'd been sitting in bed for at least five hours now, only to fall asleep, have a blistering nightmare, and then wake up to find that little time had passed. His first night on the job, and it was just as bad as the day before it.
He sat there, staring at the ceiling for lack of a better word. He was really staring past it, his mind ablaze with thoughts and ideas, all of them centering on this conflict the Lylat System had become embroiled in. And all of it was facilitated by one man, or more like ape.
Andross used to be one of Corneria's top scientists, so much in fact that he was the top scientist. He'd produced inventions that nobody thought were possible within the bounds of reality.
And with these came inventions of incredible power, one of them having the capacity of destroying the entire Lylat System.
General Pepper, the old war hound who was still in service all of those years back, was given the job of slapping Andross with the old "cease and desist" order. But the scientist wouldn't be swayed by the petty logic of his inferiors. He continued to develop weapons and power supplies and just about everything militant he could come up with.
So it fell to Pepper to stop him with force, and that's exactly what he did… or tried to do anyway.
Andross had gained a following on the planet Venom, a harsh wandering world on the very brink of the Lylat System. He became the equivalent of a dictator and led "his people" in a "crusade" against the Cornerian Army.
The fight was bloody and brutal and amazingly short lived. Andross, while a genius, was downright inexperienced when it came to warfare, and he led his forces wrong until the day they were nearly wiped out and either surrendered or disbanded.
Following the Cornerian code of justice, Andross was to be put on trial, but he mysteriously disappeared before they could put him on the stand. Officials believed he'd committed suicide or something of the like, and seeing how Venom was ultimately devastated in the fight he couldn't have run there.
It looked now as if they were wrong. Fox could only imagine how foolish they felt as their courtroom was reduced to slag by bombers bearing Venomian markings. General Pepper must have been taking it pretty hard himself for not issuing a military follow-up on the planet. Even though they did when they sent his dad to…
He deliberately avoided the subject in his head. After all these years he'd taught himself to deny it, as he would here. He continued on.
Fox's father actually worked under the Cornerian military with the old Starfox team during that fight which lasted about a month. They didn't do much, more or less striking at targets of opportunity and destroying supply convoys or ambushing lone cruisers. Starfox was primarily a mercenary squadron; it was what it did best. Plus the Cornerian Army managed to hold its own quite well.
And now here he was, the leader of a new Starfox squadron, fighting the same foe on completely different standards. Andross was back with a vengeance and was ready to terminate everyone and everything with extreme prejudice. And to make matters worse, the famous Cornerian Army paled in comparison to the opposing forces in this blitzkrieg attack on their homeworld.
Simple hit and run missions wouldn't do much now that Andross was stomping around the inner sanctum of the Lylat System nearly unabated.
Things weren't looking up according to General Pepper. Corneria, the fourth planet of the system, was under heavy fire, though the space battle seemed to be more of a stalemate than a checkmate. Meanwhile the forward bases on Katina, the second planet, were being reduced to ashes, but were apparently holding their own against all odds. And just to add insult to injury, the army outpost on Fortuna, a world past the asteroid belt which should have alerted Corneria of the attack, was subdued quickly and quietly. Army strategists could only scratch their heads and say "communications failure" while the Venomians plowed through the asteroid belt to reach their targets.
No, hit and run missions wouldn't do a damned thing at this point.
Fox had a lot of weight on his shoulders now. He'd leapt out of the military academy after his father was killed, going into one of the deepest depressions of his life. That was until Peppy, one of his dad's old comrades, suggested reforming the squadron. After all, they still had to pay off the Great Fox.
Now he was the leader of Starfox which was involved in the largest inter-planetary war ever. He had to make decisions which were bound to be dangerous for everyone, and he couldn't bear to have any of his team mates' blood on his hands.
But he had to. General Pepper needed him. Corneria needed him. His team needed him.
And Andross needed to be stopped.
He flipped over on his side, trying to get comfortable so he could sleep again. Hopefully he wouldn't get another nightmare.
The alarm brought him back to consciousness after being out of it for only several minutes. The digital clock blinked "7:00 AM" in red numbers while emitting an annoying series of beeps at the same time.
Fox brought his hand down on it, hoping he'd manage to hit the off button.
His eyes hurt. Probably due to the fact that he didn't even close them while he was still awake, it could have also been due to watching explosions the whole day before. In any case, he had to kick himself out of bed and get to work.
Stifling a yawn, he was about to get dressed when he realized that he'd gone to bed in his green jumpsuit, having only taken off the flight jacked beforehand. Screw it, he figured as he nabbed the jacket from his nightstand, More important things to worry about than laundry right now.
Fox stepped out into the corridor. It seemed just as dark and empty as it always had, except for the methodic booming noise of the Great Fox's guns every minute and a half or so. He'd ordered ROB to keep firing at enemy ships, hopefully helping out the Cornerian fleet, even if only a little.
He bypassed the refresher station, knowing that Falco was probably in there, as was his own morning custom. Meanwhile Slippy was probably sound asleep and Peppy was out doing… something. He'd never known what that old rabbit did in the morning, being that he must have awaken hours before the rest of them. Fox figured that he must have been looking over the Arwings or maybe talking to Chuck or even ROB.
Speaking of ROB, he had to get to the bridge. General Pepper had requested his audience for an army-wide situation briefing that would start within the hour. But Fox just got out of bed, so it wasn't as if he could hop right into a boring tactical overview and make any good suggestions, let alone realize what was going on in the first place.
He found himself pouring coffee in the pilot lounge. He'd never gotten into a coffee routine in the morning, but now would probably be the best time to start; there was a war going on after all.
Fox regretted pouring it all the way to the bridge. It tasted absolutely horrible, and not even because coffee wasn't meant to taste good. It was more like some kind of sludge. The disgusting thought of reprocessed mechanical grease fluttered across his mind.
He stepped into the bridge with a wince on his face. Luckily ROB wasn't looking behind to see it.
"ROB, when's that briefing?" Fox said as he stepped up to the viewport.
"T MINUS TWENTY ONE MINUTES," the robot replied in its steady, monotone voice.
Fox nodded as he stared out at Corneria. The blue world had seemed to have lost some of its luster; the fact that large areas of it were practically rendered black didn't help the scene at all. A few sporadic flashes were still visible over the planet's atmosphere, some of them caused by the yellow bolts that lanced out from the ship he was standing in. Still, the firefight from the day before was all but diffused.
Most of the Venomian fleet pulled back in large portions after a squadron of Galleon-class ships, aided by General Pepper's flagship, the C.S.C Contender, broke through the majority of the fighting and attacked to the rear of the bulk of Venomian forces. They wiped out dozens of capital ships with minimal losses while at the same time eliminating carrier bases for numerous fighter squadrons. In effect this broke the enemy's back, and the Cornerian fleet pushed forward, steadily gaining an advantage over the Venomians. They hadn't won the war, of course, but they'd halted the siege on Corneria.
The flashes still appearing over the planet were the death throes of the last Venomian ships to leave the sector. They were covering the fleet's rear, buying them time to escape while basically sacrificing themselves in the process.
Time suddenly seemed to fly as he stared upon the world. ROB interrupted his pensive gaze with a warning that the meeting would begin in five minutes.
"Alright, ROB, get ready to patch us through," Fox said before taking another sip of the coffee. Another wince graced his face as it slithered down his throat, and he looked at the cup in exasperation.
Well, it got him awake alright, but not in the way it was supposed to.
"Members of the Cornerian Star Corps, we are facing desperate times," the old hound said, his voice booming over the speakers and his eyes looking upon the faceless crowd of the camera before him.
"Though we have won the battle at hand, it seems, there is still much work to be done. Katina is still under attack, and the Venomian fleet has arranged itself around Sector Y to halt our relief efforts. Fortuna has fallen, and we believe that the armies of Andross have established a base on Aquas. These are desperate times indeed…"
Fox took in those words for a moment. He knew Katina was still being shelled left and right, along with the tragedy that was Fortuna, but now Sector Y and Aquas came into play.
Sector Y was just the denomination for an area of space within the orbits of the four innermost planets of the Lylat System. What made it unique was a massive nebula with a yellowish-green tint to it. It was caused by the enormous discharges of plasma and nuclear reactors during the first war with Andross. Back then, the massive fleet engagements the likes of which they'd witnessed over Corneria took place farther out in deep space.
Due to the nature of the nebula, the area was downright impassible. The ionic and radioactive discharges from that engagement wrought havoc on still functioning ships attempting to pass through. To make matters worse, most of the debris from the fight was trapped in the immediate area, meaning that if you happened to blunder through, you'd either get impaled or fried. You couldn't choose which, and both would be bound to happen sometime.
The position of Sector Y was almost always constant, thanks in part to the gravitational pull of Aquas and Katina because it was in between their respective orbits. At this time of year, it almost formed a direct barrier between Corneria and Katina, working perfectly to the enemy's advantage.
Now came Aquas. It was the third planet of the Lylat System, its surface completely covered in water. Colonization attempts were never truly made on the planet, so it ended up being quarantined for the "safety of the natural aquatic life there". It looked as if Andross decided he'd stop on by and set up camp, and the Cornerian army couldn't afford to have the enemy on their doorstep like that.
"Before we can establish a course of action, we must know exactly what we are dealing with," Pepper continued. "Though a large part of the enemy forces appear to be using old, outdated equipment, there are signs of new, more powerful weapons of war that may or may not have capabilities surpassing our own. The most notable of these are the capital ships they are using."
Pepper's image slid to the left and a rotating, three dimensional image of the Grazan-class appeared in his former place. After a long, practically unnecessary rant on this ship's specs by some "respected army intelligence officer", the Dorisby-class appeared. And then the Harlock. And so on and so forth.
This wasn't what Fox had in mind when it came to a briefing like this. There were no questions to be asked. It was just a force-fed slideshow of technical data that he didn't really care about…
Except for the enemy fighters of course. Besides for the old stuff, their primary fighting unit was designated "Invader I". Its tiny crew compartment was wedged between two large pylons on the sides which held heavy laser cannons. It had little armor, no shielding, and wasn't very fast on its feet, but it did pack a punch, which was just about the only thing it had going for it.
There was also the "Invader II" which didn't seem to bear any resemblance to its inferior relative. This was probably due to the lack of a proper name for it, so the "respected intelligence officers" just slapped a label onto all the fighters and gave them numbers.
In any case, the Invader II was more like an interceptor, meaning it was much deadlier in a dogfight. The flattened out, triangular body along with two stubby wings with pylons somewhat resembled the Arwing, but any resemblance stopped there. They were painted jet black and had four separate lasers on the nose of the craft. It lacked shielding as well, but had somewhat heavier armor. Intelligence also suggested that these lasers were of the weaker variety, but a pilot always trusted his intuition and personal experience when it came to the enemy's gear.
Hell, if the lasers weren't powerful, then the engines sure were. Fox recognized the engine layout from when that enemy ship smashed into his Arwing during the battle the day before. No wonder he didn't see it coming: the things were incredibly fast.
Not faster than the Arwing if this superfluous data was correct, but he'd find out for himself.
Both Invader craft were capable of flying in space or within an atmosphere, in simpler terms meaning that Fox would see a whole lot of them. The Invader Is he'd been shooting out of the skies weren't a problem, in small numbers of course, but the Invader IIs would be more of a challenge. Falco must love those, he mused.
The briefing spontaneously jumped from enemy equipment to tactics. Fox's ears perked up at the words; he absolutely needed to know how the enemy flew against him.
According to the intelligence officers, the Invader I squadrons typically flew in a three-fighter V formation. They seemed to mass together at will, and a squadron could be as big as eighteen ships. It seemed to Fox like they were made in bulk, hoping to simply outnumber their foes. But when it came to a couple of jockeys in Arwings, they made for a great turkey shoot.
Meanwhile, the Invader IIs had a more strategic flight manifest. They'd form into pairs and link up with other pairs if it ever suited their best interests. This paired system meant that they could break off into powerful, individual flights, easily capable of knocking out a group of enemy fighters one by one. Each squadron was composed of the usual twelve ships, though they were rarely seen flying in complete formation.
This would present a problem. Alone, Arwings were highly proficient at their job of elimination, but they also became lone targets. Despite having the best engines and guns in the Lylat System, they could still be jumped like any other ship, and the pilots of the Invader IIs seemed to excel at this tactic.
Slippy's gonna have a hell of a time, Fox thought with derision.
Fleet tactics came next, as boring as the profiling of the fleets themselves. Still, he bothered to wade through some of it and catch a few details. For one, the seemingly universal Venomian squadron consisted of three Grazan-class ships straddled on the sides by two Dorisby or Harlock-class frigates. The frigates, especially Dorisby-class, were essentially sitting ducks, but were covered by the big guns of the Grazans. In turn, the Grazans were mainly protected by the fighter escort they brought along. So when it came right down to it, there was a food chain that could be stepped up on one by one to eventually wipe the whole squadron out.
Luckily, the first link was the fighters which Starfox was eager to vape.
Up next, and thankfully last, came the revised compositions for the Cornerian fleet. As General Pepper started spouting all kinds of nonsense, Fox's mind drifted from the screen to the battered fleet hovering around outside. He began to wonder how they'd possibly gear up for another assault when the name "Starfox" was mentioned and his attention snapped back into place.
"The mercenary unit Starfox will be aiding us in this campaign," Pepper said, most likely at the groans of captains and admirals everywhere. "Their carrier ship, the Great Fox, will be attached to the Twenty-third Artillery squadron due to its armament."
Artillery squadron, huh? Fox thought, That means it'll be prancing around the other unmodified Dreadnaught-class destroyers in the fleet. Should be quite a show…
"Its fighter compliment will be attached to the Two-Hundred and First Interceptor Squadron…"
Wait, what? he thought, putting down his cup of sludge on a control panel and leaning over it. Our ship will be attached to a rear-line unit and we'll be attached to a front line unit? Even if he wasn't one for fancy fleet talk, he recognized a logistical nightmare if he ever saw one.
With some motivational closing statements, General Pepper brought the briefing to an abrupt close. Fox grabbed his coffee and turned to leave the bridge when ROB said, "SIR, SHOULD I MODIFY OUR COURSE?"
Fox just nodded as he stepped outside and headed towards the pilot lounge where they'd be waiting. Somehow he'd have to explain all of this to his team… In the morning.