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[Star Fox: Universe [R]aid]

Jack Russo

Star Fox and all characters from within the Nintendo universe are copyright their respected owners.

Chapter Two - Claws and Feathers

Fighter exhibition and training was one of the most, if not the most, popular day at the Papetoon Academy for Young Recruits. The morning of the event the halls of the academy were decorated in banners and posters displaying the names and faces of participants for the current school year. Anyone involved in student government and clubs would set up tables with various paraphernalia to hand out to underclassmen and military personnel alike. Several booths contained baked goods to assist with fundraising and advertising for their own unique clubs and interests. Classes were still held but lessons were put aside by many of the instructors so students could either attend or sit and watch the televised exhibition.

All of the festivities took place within the enclosed buildings that made up the school and military base since Papetoon was a dry and arid place. It was nestled in a rocky corner at the front of a mountainous region of the planet; the four towers for each division of the school dwarfed by the height of the orange plateaus. Both the industrial complex and living quarters were positioned closest to the rock face, providing access to drilling locations as well as protection from any potential outside force. There were a series of tunnels that branched out inside the mountain for civilian use and evacuation should the need arise, but made good hiking and sightseeing trails for the meantime.

The academy and the military compound stood at the front of the building before a flat plain that was dotted here and there with weeds and cacti. The entire area belonged to the military but was usable by upperclassmen with the proper credentials. Areas like the shooting range, docking and shuttle bay, fighter bay and landing strip could be accessed. The climate rarely changed around the area and only shifted between hot, hotter and then hellish. Civilian and military alike often opted to stay within the air conditioned building.

Today was one of the day's the weather chose to remain at the hellish level so all spectators stayed indoors behind either their flat screen or holo-screen displays set up within the commercial plazas. Almost every room and building was teeming with people. Most especially the fighter bays; soldiers and engineers alike were scrambling from craft to craft making sure each was properly fueled and charged. Announcements blared overhead regarding current wind speed, direction, as well as weather. And within all this hustle and bustle stood five of the schools finest in line, each in front of a Falcon-class jet, save one vulpine who stood before an Arwing I.

"Listen up, recruits," began their bull dog instructor, "normally your headmaster, General Peppy, would be here giving you this last speech but I'm standing in since he has been called away to Corneria." He paused as the students gave each other puzzled looks, Fox being the only one to remain at attention. "We have Baxter Reynolds, Bill Grey, Fox McCloud, Falco Lombardi and Oliver Walt. All top of your class."

"Despite some set-backs and interesting exhibition displays, you've all managed to impress your superiors enough to participate in the fighter exhibition. You may already know what is expected of you but I'm required to cite instructions every year. Once you have lifted off, you are to remain within a one hundred kilometer radius of the compound. Each fighter has a locating device so yes; we'll know where you are. Our logistic pilots have already placed out empty supply rings on the ground: they will launch up into the sky and open after you set off."

"The goal is to fly through as many 'rings' as possible. The pilot who passes through the most rings will be considered the winner of this exhibition and entitled to start their military career three pay scales ahead. Understood?"

"Yes, sir," all five students shouted.

"Very well! Now-"

"Sir," interrupted Falco, still at attention. "Is it proper for McCloud to be using a different fighter than the rest of us, Sir?"

The students shuffled uncomfortably as the instructor answered, "The Arwing I, compared to the Falcon jet, is a much more complicated vehicle to use. The pilot has to be of advanced skill in order to monitor engines, weapons, navigation and more. That being said, both jets fly at similar velocity and acceleration."

"But different enough to make a difference," Falco added stiffly.

"The decision is already made, Lombardi, whether you like it or not." The avian squinted his eyes and grunted. Fox could see at the corner of his eye he was balling a fist.

"Now that that is settled, I want to introduce you to your underclass analyst who will be working by your side, here on land." The instructor waved his hand toward another group of five students who were waiting in the dock vestibule. Even though he was still at attention, Fox could make out the outline of Slippy approaching, a grin on his face. "Your analyst will inform you of your current position around campus, where nearby supply rings are as well as when new rings will be launched. Take this time to get acquainted with one another. You have fifteen minutes to prepare and get ready. Dismissed, and good luck!"

"Sir," they shouted and eased their stances. Fox made for his Arwing I behind him, opening the lower maintenance panel and clicking a few buttons.

"Hey, McCloud. Fox." Behind him stood Bill, his green and yellow helmet cradled between his left arm and hip. He was a pretty athletic looking pit-bull dog; Fox recalled he and his friends frequented the campus gym more than he.

"What's up, Bill," Fox replied.

"Just wanted to say good luck out there," he said, bumping his free fist onto Fox's shoulder. "And ignore the bird. Everyone knows he has some stick deep up his ass."

"Thanks, Bill," chuckled Fox. "You too. Good luck."

"Don't need it," he smiled. "By the way. The guys and I were wondering if you'd join us for a celebratory dinner tonight. Regardless of how the exhibition goes. What do you say?"

Fox blinked. This would be the first time he'd be on a social outing with classmates. He recalled Slippy's comments from the night before and started to believe there was merit to them. "That sounds great. I'll do it," he answered as they were approached by Slippy and a female otter.

"Awesome, McCloud. I'll text you later on campus link." Before the analysts had a chance to talk, Bill wrapped his free arm around the otter and led her toward his fighter. "Well hello, beautiful. Why don't you come this way with me?"

The vulpine and toad both gawked as the otter stuttered a remark in full blush. "Wow," started Slippy, "I had heard Bill was a flirt but that was something, huh?"

"I wouldn't know," Fox admitted. "I guess you're my analyst then? How are you doing, Slip?"

"Great," the toad beamed. "Me and Kara were fighting who'd get to be your analyst but I guess that problem got solved. You excited?"

"Of course I am!" He looked up at his Arwing I, admiring its build. "I haven't taken this girl out in a long while. I've been itching for the sky."

"That's good to hear. If you look over here a moment," he directed Fox to a fold up table with a laptop and large headphones set on it. "I'll be monitoring your progress here and giving you directions on the supply rings as information jumps."

"Awesome, thanks." Fox took a look at his watch. "Looks like I should get ready. See you on the winning side," he grinned.

"Of course," Slippy answered with a thumbs up.

Fox shut the maintenance panel and climbed his way up into the cockpit. The vulpine rested onto his cushioned seat, inhaling the smell of his vehicle in delight. He flicked a few switches here and there and listened as the fighter hummed to life. A grin formed on his muzzle and he put on his helmet and adjusted both his eyepiece and mic. Lights danced in front of his eyes from the HUD as the front blast doors opened.

"Everything is green, here," he heard Slippy say over the radio.

"Gotcha, Slip," he replied. "Adjusting radio to accept signals B, C, and Z." A few button clicks and his earpiece picked up more conversation from the students around him.

"...it's awesome! You suckers got some lame analyst and I get the babe," he heard an excited Bill say.

"You're such a pig, Bill."

"What's wrong, Walt? Jealous?"

"So what? You can't hog all the good looking ones from us!"

There was another laugh from who Fox assumed was Reynolds. "Walt's jealous you get all the good guys away from him, Bill."

"Am not," Walt protested. "But hell, Bill, stop taking all of them from us." And with a chuckle, "we all need love from the guys and girls too."

"I consider myself equal opportunity," Bill remarked, the others laughing harder.

"Just what did I stumble across here," puzzled Fox.

"Oy! McCloud is here," came a reply. "'Bout time you joined in. Bill says you're joining us for dinner tonight."

"Is he equal opportunity too?" Joked Reynolds, followed by more laughter.

"Don't be silly," Bill chuckled.

"A little decorum, please," said Falco's voice stiffly.

"Sure, sure," mumbled Walt. "Prepping engines now."

"Same here."

"Done."

The noise of the combined engines grew to a low roar and pilots made final adjustments on their panels and to their head gear before anxiously eyeing the runway. Over the radio came the commands from the control room to make their last minute preparations before take-off. Fox glanced at his colleagues who were all waiting with determination on their faces. An alert popped up on the vulpine's HUD display with information of his arwing's current status.

"Wow, Slip," he said. "You really know how to take of this girl on the tech-side."

"Thanks, Fox. Just a few more moments on my end. It looks like the instructor is about to make the final announcement." The toad was correct as in a few moments Fox could hear the bulldog's voice over his headset.

"Attention recruits. This is your instructor speaking. In a few moments we will be granting take-off requests individually. Pay careful attention to your assigned tech-analysts as they'll let you know all you need to know up in the air. The administration would also like to remind you all that this is a televised event shown all through base so give everyone a good show. All of you, good luck."

Just moments after the announcement there came a roar to Fox's left. Streaking forward was Falco, his falcon class jet leaving a blur of distorted air and smoke as it launched upward and took flight. He may have disliked the avian but watching him go made the vulpine whistle in admiration. It would be his turn soon. Adrenaline rushed through his body as he shivered in anticipation. The next fighter launched forward taking Reynolds up into the sky. He was shortly followed by Walt and Bill, who grinned at Fox before zipping across the runway.

"Ten seconds, Fox," said Slippy.

His grip tightened on his control column. Squinting his eyes, he peered forward at the dark runway and sunny exit. A grin returned on his muzzle and his leg bounced as he heard Slippy's voice count down the last few seconds. He pushed forward on his accelerator.

Five.

He took a deep breath.

Four...three.

Final adjustments on the the console.

Two...one.

"Go!"

Fox activated the main thrusters and launched forward, the inertia shoving him into his cushioned seat. Lights zipped by at a blur as he raced closer and closer to the blast doors. Sunlight poured into his cockpit and his HUD display automatically dimmed. With a light tug he pulled on his control cylinder and the loud hum of the arwing's tires on asphalt came to a halt. In its place was the light whistling of air brushing against the metal of his jet.

All five pilots were now in the skies; each circled around the academy awaiting further instructions from their analysts back on base. Fox glimpsed out of his window to take in the dry, Papetoon scenery, the sun extending its reach onto the flat land and breaking only at the foot of the mountains and plateaus. Shadows weaved to and fro in a web like pattern in deep contrast to the orange landscape. It was at this moment that Fox felt an appreciation for his relocation to the academy.

"Everything is checking up good down here," Slippy called over radio. "We're still awaiting signals for emerging supply rings."

"Understood, Slip. I'll let you...," before he could finish, rockets flared up from the ground and into the sky. They streamed up in bright red and blues before erupting like fireworks; the explosion of the rockets echoing throughout the landscape. "Slip, I think I see the rings coming up now."

The rockets expanded out from their point of detonation. Four points joined together by an electrical ring large enough for five fighters to pass through.

"Fox, there are now ten rings out there! Two are in front of you, and one more about negative 50 meters Z from your current position."

"Roger," he replied, launching forward with a quick jet boost. The arwing passed easily through the first ring and a score count appeared on his HUD display reading: one. He pulled back on his stick, angling his ship further skyward before turning his wrist and readjusting into a successful aerial u-turn. Ahead and on radar he saw another fighter zip past the ring he was gunning for. "Dammit," he muttered.

"Nice tricks, Fox," came Bill's voice. "But tricks won't give you any points."

"I'll show you more than tricks, Grey," he challenged as he readjusted his course.

"He's right, Fox," Slippy countered. "Focus on the rings."

"Fine, fine," he surrendered.

"Alright, there's another ring right above the campus: X 50 meters, Y 20 kilometers and Z, negative 50 meters."

Fox could see the electrical current ahead of him, resting high above the four towers of the school. His boost recharged, he reactivated them and thrust forward while making both the flight adjustments required. He could barely make out the crowd of onlookers standing on the glass bridge as he dove through the hoop. Two, his HUD rang.

"Very nice, Fox," approved Slippy.

"Hey, what's the score right now?"

"Let's see," began Slippy, taking a few moments to finish his sentence. "Bill is in the lead with four rings, Falco with three, you with two. The others only have one."

"Time to get serious," Fox said decisively.

"You mean you weren't," asked Slippy, flabbergasted.

Fox eyed another supply ring in the distance hovering near the cliff face. There was another directly above it; an idea sparking in the vulpine's mind. He steered toward the lower ring first and just as he was about to pass it, his paws pulled back on the control cylinder, his arwing tipping toward the sky at a steep angle. He maintained his hold, feeling the gravity change within his cockpit as the landscape shifted from directly below him to above him. There came two rings from his HUD as he passed through the second ring and completed his loop in the sky. Three and four.

"You catch that, Slip," Fox called out, unable to hide his delight.

"That's great, Fox," came the reply, though the toad seemed distracted.

"What's wrong, Slip?"

"Wha-nothing! Uh, next few rings are out further in the canyons. A good fifty kilometers north from your location."

Fox squinted his eyes. The canyons were known to be difficult to fly through. "Understood."

"Be careful, Fox."

"No promises," he joked. To his left and right he could see he was joined by his colleagues. Bill more than likely above him, Walt and Reynolds within view to his sides but Falco missing. He glanced at his radar and saw the bird was below him.

"Looks like I'm the top here," chuckled Bill over the radio.

"You're such a pig, Grey," Reynolds rebutted.

"You won't be on top for long," countered Fox.

"Poor Fox doesn't get it," replied Walt.

The vulpine blinked. "Get what?"

"Oh, Fox," sighed Slippy, his voice covered behind sniggers. Fox shook his head as realization sank in.

Falco's fighter below him boosted away from the crowd. "I'm surrounded by immature morons," he fumed. His jet dipped down further and passed through a ring which was concealed in the shadows cast by the canyon walls.

"Hmm, time to get back to work," muttered Bill, also thrusting forward while his two friends veered left and right away from Fox's arwing.

"Current score is you, four, Falco four, Bill, six, the others three each," Slippy said. "There's a set of three rings below you in the canyon by the river bed." He paused before adding a warning, "the area is pretty narrow so you'll need to keep an eye on your wingspan.

"There's an easy fix to that," Fox replied as he descended. The walls between him flew past, gradually getting narrower as the rings came into view. Fox turned lightly on his stick, the arwing following suit til the wingspan spread vertically. He could hear Slippy's approval as he passed through the first ring. The second ring.

Yet, before he made it through the last ring a fighter cut him off, angling dangerously close. "Holy shit," cried out Fox, turning his arwing away from the collision but a wing clipping the canyon wall. Alarms blared in his ears and his HUD lit up in red and orange text. Sparks flew from the wing on his right and a gentle smoke trailed off.

"Pretty clumsy, Fox," mocked Falco, who flew off and away from the scene.

"Son of a bitch," the vulpine growled as he flicked a few control knobs.

"Fox!? Are you alright," asked Slippy, worry in his voice.

"I think so," he replied. "Wing is clipped but the engines are still working fine." Fox tugged on his stick and frowned. "It looks like maneuvering has stiffened. I won't be able to make any more quick turns."

"I'm reading systems are yellow, here," Slippy said lowering his voice. "You can still fly but I can request a repair ring get dispatched to fix the wing. The nanites will have it repaired in about five minutes so you'll have to work with what you have til then."

"Alright, damn. Gotcha."

"Wait," there was bewilderment in the toad's voice this time. "Fox, something is heading your way."

"You mean Bill? Reynolds?"

"No...hold on, I'm asking the others."

Fox relaxed his grip on the controls, scanning the ragged landscape around him. Another fighter flew to the damaged side of his arwing and hovered by him.

"Fox, are you alright," asked Reynolds.

"Yeah I'm fine. Falco pulled a shit move."

"What an asshole." He paused. "Did your analyst tell you something was heading our way also?"

"Yes," Fox answered. "Waiting on confirmation now." He saw the other fighters move into alignment with the two of them, including Falco. "Proud of yourself, Falco?" he growled.

"Just evening the playing field, McCloud," the avian retorted.

Fox didn't get a chance to argue back as three objects came into view in the distance. They were dark black, but he could make out hints of red. He noticed at the peculiarity of their flight pattern, zipping higher and lower in altitude. And just as strangely, blue lights emerged from them, growing brighter and brighter.

"EVASIVE MANEUVERS! NOW," shouted Slippy, his voice ringing on all broadcasts.

"What the hell," started Reynolds. He didn't get a chance to finish his comment as his fighter was bombarded by the blue laser fire, erupting in flame and metal debris that fell listlessly down to the canyon below.

"Reynolds!?" Bill screamed over the radio. "Baxter!?"

"Evasive maneuvers!" Fox echoed. The other fighters turned away and spread apart from him, angling their wings to and fro in effort to become more difficult to hit. Fox grunted as his arwing stubbornly followed suit. He whispered a curse at Falco.

"Recruits," shouted their instructor's voice. "You are ordered to return to base. We are sending in military pilots to assist. Do not engage the targets but retaliate if you must. Weaponry has been reenabled on your ships but your priority is to retreat!"

"Understood, sir," Fox replied as a loud whistling zipped past his arwing. He was now able to fully see the sleek dark build of the enemy fighter that killed Reynolds. His HUD display danced a red warning and he felt a violent jolt stagger his fighter. "Shit!"

Another enemy fighter flew past him and then u-looped back around, intent of taking him out. Fox's shields read seventy five percent. He knew he could take a few more hits but it wouldn't be long before they pierce into his hull. The black jet centered onto his sights, preparing to fire. But Fox wasn't going to let him take him down so easily. He flicked up the safety on his control console and fired back; green lasers streamed and hissed out of his cannons and collided with the enemy ship. It bounced and jolted from the impact before veering away defensively with smoking wings.

"I can't shake this guy," panicked Falco. He came into view just below Fox, weaving between rocks on the canyon's edge. Laser fire trailed after him, their blue glow crashing onto the walls while chunks of rocks plummeted down to the river bed.

"Falco, ascend," ordered Fox. "I've got you covered." The avian complied and as he flew higher, so did the black jet and right into Fox's scope. He fired, the ship hobbling from the impacts before backing off and veering away like its partner.

"Thanks," said Falco. He continued his erratic flying pattern toward the base with the rest of them. They engaged their jet boosters each time they recharged in an effort to race past their pursuers. Laser fire continued to fly past them, not hitting their intended targets.

"This is ridiculous," stuttered Walt. "What the hell is going on?"

"Who could they be," demanded Bill, his avatar agitated on-screen.

Fox remained silent, remembering the conversation he had overheard the night before from his father's office. His father and Pigma had left earlier that morning to scout ahead. Should an attack like this have been eminent they would've sent a warning. Unless...

Fox's stomach sank at the horrific prospect. He shook his head to try and get it out of his mind. He needed to focus right now. Get out of the air and to safety. Return to campus and dock.

"Oh, fuck," he heard Falco despair and it didn't take the four of them long to see why.

A tall, blue pillar extended up from the campus toward the sky. Explosions and laser fire erupted here and there as they came onto contact with the translucent energy field protecting the building. Outside numerous falcon-class fighters buzzed like small flies through the sky firing at multiple black enemies that swarmed around a large frigate hovering overhead.

The ship was also a black and red color scheme. Its wedge shape angled steeply toward the front where its main cannons remained dormant. Secondary weaponry decorated the sides of the frigate and we're all firing at the falcon class fighters that struggled to pierce its defenses.

"What do we do now," lamented Falco quite uncharacteristically. His fighter wavered anxiously compared to the rest of the remaining students.

"The docking bay is preoccupied with enemy fighters," answered Bill. "And we're still too far off to attempt a landing."

"Who the hell are these guys," Walt growled out. There was another explosion as laser fire met with Walt's wings. "Ah! I'm hit! I'm hit," he cried out as his jet wobbled downward.

"Walt, get it together," Fox cried out. "If you angle right you can glide on down safely."

"I'll try," he shouted back, his fighter doing its best to flatten out from its dive. The others could see it slowly even out, Bill whispering harsh pleas. Yet the craft hit the ground early, sparks of fire and debris scattering out as it skid across the land to a flaming halt.

"Walt?! Walt!?" Bill growled out angrily, the sound of his fist banging onto the console echoing on everyone's earpieces.

"Bill, look," started Falco. "He's alive! Look!"

Below they could see a lone figure crawling out of the battered remains of his fighter. "Guys, I'm alright," he said through gasps. "I'm a bit shaken but I'm ok."

"Goddamn it, Walt. I didn't want to lose you too," said Bill in relief.

"Walt," began Fox. "You're still not going to be safe there. Try to find some cover until it's safe to return to base."

"Understood, Fox," he replied.

Ahead a rocket shot up from the ground and exploded into a violet, electrical ring.

"Fox, it's Slippy," said the toad. "I'm sorry for the silence. The others have been evacuated through the tunnels but I was able to sneak away. I'm staying behind."

"Slip, you need to go with them," protested Fox.

"No way! You're going to need my help." He paused. "I'm sorry it took some time but I got the repair ring up, you should see it ahead of you."

"I do."

"It should be supplied enough to repair everyone's fighters...oh there's only three of you left." Slippy hesitated before asking, "Is Walt...okay?"

"He's fine," Falco answered. "Back to the repair ring?"

"Oh, good," Slippy sighed. "Ok, it'll repair your fighters but also upgrade your weapons to max capacity. Give the nanites about five minutes to prep the upgrades."

"If we can survive five minutes," the avian sighed.

"Let's not despair," Fox barked out. "We can do this. This is what we've been trained to do. We can't let our fear get in the way of protecting the school." He then growled out, "and making these bastards pay for what they did to Reynolds."

"We're just students," protested Falco. "We're not even full fledged soldiers yet!"

"What's wrong, Falco," seethed Fox. "You've done your best to make sure I look bad at everything I've done in this school. Be it piloting, weaponry, hand to hand combat, you have always made sure you got all the attention. Where is that confidence now?" There was nothing but silence on the radio. "We may be students, but we're soldiers now, like it or not. We can either fight back or die cowards!"

"I'm no coward," the avian yelled back. "You asshole, Fox. I'll show you just how much better I am and down more fighters than you can!"

"Good, Falco," Fox smiled. "Show me just how much you can do when it matters."

"Don't leave me out of this too," snarled Bill. "Baxter was my buddy. I'll take down all three of these fuckers for his sake."

"Then we're all agreed. Let's do this. Show these guys just what the top of the upper class can do even if we have to fight with our claws and feathers."

Together, the three fighters blasted through the repair ring despite still being tailed by their pursuers. Blaster fire continued to chase after them as their ships wobbled, rolled and dodged away from the shots. Fox called again for evasive maneuvers and the other two ships complied by veering away from him. The resulting flight change forced their enemies to split up one-on-one to each target. Behind him a rain of fire continued as the vulpine did his best to read his radar and weave between shots. His paw jolted left and right on his stick, the arwing understanding the command and began to roll. Energy erupted from the wings of his ship as enemy fire was deflected away and back at the black jet they originated from. The arwing shuddered as a flaming mass soared past him and descended to the earth below. One down.

He noticed that the controls began to smoothen out. The smoke that came from his wings had vanished now that the nanites had repaired them. Ahead, he witnessed as Falco was chased down by the second enemy fighter. His ship leaned left and right in agitation as his pursuer moved closer. Bill had managed to swerve behind his target and was firing him down. The green blasts made contact on the ship while it tried to evade. But Bill wasn't going to lend him that opportunity. He pursued the enemy jet, a barrage of laser fire raining down until the ship burst into flames and exploded in flight.

Falco grunted over the radio and his ship angled upward in an aerial u-turn, a shining orb left behind where he once was. Before the final black jet realized what it was, the energy erupted in an electro-magnetic blast. The concussive force ripped apart the craft's wings and it nose-dived into an explosive display of fire and smoke.

"Great job, everyone," said Fox, his voice still stern. "Slippy, how are things on campus?"

"Shields are at 95% and holding," replied the toad's voice. "Evacuation procedures are still underway."

"What should we do next," asked Bill.

"I'm being told to stand down," Slippy muttered. "I got caught sneaking into an office. But I think I can be more assistance to you guys than they would."

"You've been a great help so far," replied Fox.

"Thanks. You all should be within radio distance from the other fighters soon. They'll give you orders to retreat."

"We can't do that, now," Fox said defiantly.

"What?! We're almost to safety, man," Falco whined. "Let the real soldiers fight."

"We are soldiers," the vulpine barked. "I know this is supposed to be an exhibition but this crisis has changed things. We need to put matters in perspective. What good are we inside than out here?"

"We're no good," replied Bill.

"We'd be alive," said Falco.

"Yes, we'd be alive," started Fox. "But like Bill said, we'd be no good. We'd be no good to our classmates and the civilians in there. Out here, we can make a difference. We can do something! We can help!"

"Whatever," muttered the avian. Then he added, "there's no way in hell I'd let you out do me, Fox."

"That's right," smiled Fox. "We can do it. Slippy will be our extra eyes from inside."

"That I will," the toad replied eagerly.

A fourth fighter came into view on Fox's peripherals. It's silver and blue shape familiar to him. "Spoken like a true leader," came a new voice over their radios.

"Father!"

"I'm sorry I'm late, kiddo," James apologized. "I got held up by some baddies but managed to slip away. It looks like you guys got caught up in a big mess. I'll radio in what I know to base while I fly with you guys."

"Is this who we think it is," asked Fox. "From last night?"

"Don't worry about that right now," answered James. "First, let's gun down these bastards away from our home."

"Hell, yeah," Falco started. "I feel our chances just went up."

"We've got this," Bill chimed in.

Fox relaxed from within his cockpit. "Alright gang. Let's show them what we're made of," he commanded as they approached the academy.

~ :: :: ~

The sounds of explosions rang clear within the barriers. Sparks grew, flashed and soon faded on each impact with the energy walls that extended from the ground and skyward around the facility. Fighters whizzed around the air in a dangerous dance of life and death while the blue and green of laser fire shot through the horizon. Four figures crouched low on the rooftop of the military compound, one busy tinkering with a package laid out on the ground.

"The recruits are coming back," said a female voice, her face concealed behind a feline-shaped helmet. She pointed out in the distance at the four approaching fighters.

"What of it," replied another with a gruff voice. "They'll just get killed in the fight."

"If they made it this far they must have some talent to them," she mused.

"The 'Queen' is an optimist," muttered the figure by the package, his black tail flickering left and right.

"Always, Joker," she replied.

"These code names are ridiculous," hissed their final companion.

"But necessary," answered the gruff one.

"Whatever, King."

"Hush, Ace," Queen admonished. We don't have too much time. How fares the bomb?"

"It's ready," Joker replied. "That leaves the industrial compound, living quarters and academy."

"Leave the living quarters to me," said Ace. "I can stealth past anyone who comes in my way."

"I'll take the industrial compound," Joker added.

"I'll manage with the academy," King said with a low growl.

"Very well," began Queen. "We must make sure the compound is destroyed before either 'Venom' or Corneria can claim it." She hesitated before continuing. "I'm going to assist with the evacuation."

"Queen has too much of a heart," Joker muttered in protest. "Mayhap that's why she's also as beautiful and elegant as a rose."

"No time for poetic flirting," King snapped, before turning to Queen. "Be safe out there."

"Of course," she replied and turned away from her companions. "Proceed with the mission."

"Understood," they all replied and set off in different directions. Ace's figure vanished and camouflaged with his surroundings while King and Joker ran ahead and down the stairs from their location. Queen looked back up at the frigate that littered the Papetoon sky. Her blue eyes glared defiantly through her helmet before she set off toward the civilians.