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25 December 3048 LDC

06:20 Local Time

Corneria Defense Industries Orbital Platform ZX-1032

The rust-furred vulpine hated waiting simply for the sake of waiting; the tense preparation of combat or extended downtime with nothing to do was one thing, but being kept waiting for some underworked and overpaid bureaucrat was something that he could never get used to. Fox McCloud had quite a bit of experience with these types. Even eight years after the end of the Lylat-Venom War, various corporations and governmental bodies had wanted the war hero's endorsement of their products or appearance at various functions. All of these involved this type of waiting; milling around until the aforementioned bureaucrats finally took their noses out of their datapads or kano cups and gave the Star Fox team the time of day.

Fox had been staked out in what was admittedly a very plush reception area. Not only was there plenty of kano to stay awake, but there was also a decently-stocked bar, plush faron leather couches, and a good selection of the latest holovids to choose from. The pilot was nursing a bottle of Fortunan ale, engrossed in an action vid he saw the adverts for a couple of days ago. The mere fact they had this flick a couple of days after it opened in theaters meant this was a pretty important station. CDI wouldn't have spent a healthy premium giving their visitors luxury accommodations unless this was a pretty important station, especially since this place was stuck in the armpit of the cluster.

The station orbited a planet which could barely be classified as such. The size of a large moon, it orbited the outer edges of its solar system. It was an airless hunk of rock; the database on the Great Fox mentioned its lack of any significant mineral deposits or tactical value. The entire system was nearly deserted; its red dwarf star and lack of any terraformable planets within its habitation zone made it the home to a couple of mining operations and corporate outposts. Bluntly put, this was a pretty good place for any of the Lylatian Government's secret projects.

A harsh vibration against his side followed by a high-pitched beep drove Fox from both his thoughts and the movie. With a barely audible grumble he stabbed the pause button on the holoprojector's remote and picked up the offending piece of electronics. "Yeah, Pep?" He didn't bother checking the communicator's display; the only one who would be contacting him was Peppy. Slippy was currently up to his eyeballs in the bowels of the Great Fox; his technical genius was the only thing keeping the massively automated cruiser working.

"They still keeping you waiting, Fox?" Peppy's voice rang into his ear. Peppy was a reliable sort and had become a surrogate father to him after his old man died on Venom. He also hated this meaningless waiting. "I don't see why George would have us come out all this way for nothing."

"Pepper has his reasons, Pep." Fox responded, referencing the team's liaison with the Lylatian military. General George Pepper was one of Peppy's closest friends and well-liked by his command. He may have been running a desk rather than a dreadnaught these days, but he was a dedicated soldier. While Star Fox got all the glory for supposedly singlehandedly destroying the Venom Armada and killing Andross Oikonny, it was in fact Pepper's strategies and diversion tactics which gave the team a clear shot at victory. "He mentioned something about a job, and we all know we sorely need some income. Slippy's reports are definitely bad news for the Great Fox unless we get her some quality time in a space dock."

"I understand that." Peppy retorted. "However, we passed up a good escort opportunity just coming here, and that was our meal ticket for the next couple of months." He had a point; companies paid handsomely to have high-value convoys escorted by Star Fox. Pirates who were willing to attack well-defended merchant liners typically turned tail and ran when they were up against the mercenary team. "We can't afford to wait much longer, even for George."

"I'll give them an hour, okay?" Fox groaned inwardly. The frustrations of running a small merc team never went away. He simply switched off the communicator, his point being made. The payout provided by a government contract, especially when it came from Pepper, was in his opinion worth waiting for. Two years ago they were tasked with wiping out one of the last remaining Remnant outposts; that gave the Great Fox a partial refit as well as gave them a solid month's worth of vacationing on Aquas while the repairs were being done. If Pepper was involved it meant something big was on the horizon. Big risks, but big payout.

About thirty minutes later he heard his name being called. "Excuse me, Mr. McCloud?" He turned around to see the receptionist, a tall wolfess, standing in front of the door which led to the rest of the facility. Her grey fur contrasted very well with her blue uniform and shy smile, which he returned. "We're sorry to keep you waiting, but Mr. Wester will see you now."

Fox resisted the temptation to complain about waiting five hours. He was a little irked, yet not enough to forget the cardinal rule of a mercenary: Be nice to the client. Paychecks didn't come easy and a contract from a military contractor kept the Great Fox working and something a little healthier than Insta-pasta in the galley.

The receptionist escorted him past several security doors and into the station proper. His practiced eye noticed details most casual visitors missed, such as the doors made from cruiser-grade armor plating and the lack of armed guards. The barely visible hatches in the floor and ceiling hinted to automated turret defense systems; whatever they had in this facility was guarded well enough to hold back a company of Remnant troops.

After being led into an elevator, Fox tried to make conversation. "So, what do you guys make here, anyway?" He was greeted only with a polite smile and a shake of the head; the receptionist wasn't about to give out any information. She didn't even give him the standard corporate babble about diversified interests and being on the forefront of innovation. She was, in fact, eerily silent.

The elevator opened up into a long corridor flanked by massive plate windows. As they strode past he could tell there was a large-scale manufacturing operation taking place. Assembly lines were gearing up, and an army of workers clad in white jumpsuits scurried around the factory floor like a hive of insects. Fox saw what looked like small arms components such as stocks and barrels being made, but the actual assembly seemed to be taking place elsewhere. That in and of itself was strange even for a military contractor, CDI's main focus was ship-mounted weapons systems such as the LP-3130 laser cannons built into his Arwing. Why would they be branching into the incredibly competitive small arms industry?

At the end of the hall they reached another security door. Beyond that they reached their destination, a rather lavish conference room with a nearly 360-degree view of the manufacturing operation. An ornate wooden table stood in the middle of a sea of plush royal blue carpet, such natural luxuries being quite rare to come across in a weight-conscious orbital platform. The table had a built-in holoprojector, which currently displayed a rotating CDI logo. There were several men milling about the conference room, one of which was General Pepper. His bright red Cornerian Navy uniform stood out amongst the lab coats and suits the others wore.

"Mr. Wester?" The receptionist announced their entry. "Fox McCloud, of the Star Fox mercenary team." One of the suits stood up, making his way towards Fox with a confident gait which suggested he had the rule of the roost here.

"Sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. McCloud." The brown tabby feline extended a hand towards the pilot, which he took with a firm handshake. "I'm Rudi Wester, Vice President of Operations for CDI." He motioned to his cadre, introducing them as well. "That's my assistant, Gareth Halsey." A nervous-looking otter seated at the table nodded at him, immediately returning to the datapad he held. "And these are the lead engineers of our latest project, Ivan Khitrovo and Yuri Trubachev." He motioned to two more or less nondescript, older canids at the other end of the table, discussing amongst themselves in hushed tones. Other than their strange names, Fox could tell they were not speaking Lylatian. In fact, he had no idea what language the two were actually speaking.

"And, you already know General George Pepper." Pepper gave a wave towards Fox, which the pilot returned. This was already an awkward meeting, but having an old friend present helped. He wasn't even sure what sort of job they had for the team, but something told him this was far from being an ordinary escort mission. "If you would, let's get seated and start. We've kept everyone waiting long enough."

Fox took a seat next to Pepper, offering him an inquisitive glance. The older hound said nothing; opting to point towards to the two scientists as Wester started what seemed like a combination presentation and briefing. "First off, I would like to admit that standard board meetings like these aren't my style. Since Mr. McCloud hasn't been briefed on Project Firestorm, we're going to pull out all the stops. Before we begin, I wanted a representative from the LDF as well as one of the best soldiers in the System to observe and test what we have come up with."

The feline executive bent underneath the table for a moment, extracting a meter-long obsidian case which was placed on the surface in front of Fox. Wester undid two catches upon it, reveling what lay inside. The vulpine blinked at the sight. "This is a standard issue LC87 blaster carbine made by Laken Armaments." The tried and true carbine was a mainstay of LDF forces as well as the majority of licensed mercenary teams. In fact the LC87 was his go-to weapon on missions where he needed a bit more firepower than his personal Karsher Vangard pistol.

"Very astute, Mr. McCloud." Wester nodded. "As you know the LC87 is the primary infantry weapon of the LDF and is known as one of the most reliable blasters in service today. Easy beam focal adjustments, redundant power couplings, and a virtually shockproof emitter array are why it has its legendary reliability. The Arwing may have been our ace in the hole during the Venom War, but the LC87 was what our ground victories during the war were won with. However, the LC87 has a major weakness."

Fox blinked again, his focus switching from the rifle on the table to the cat standing a few meters away. "I need to say that this is a strange introduction for a new infantry weapon, Mr. Wester. You brought out what has to be the most common blaster rifle in the system and you're telling us how good it is. What sort of weakness are you talking about?"

"I find that a demonstration trumps a long-winded presentation." Wester gestured to his assistant who flipped a switch out of Fox's line of sight. What appeared to be an old-fashioned projector screen descended from the ceiling of the conference room, blocking out a substantial portion of the view. As the screen locked into place he gestured to the vulpine. "Would you be so kind as to shoot the screen in front of you, Mr. McCloud?"

"What? You're asking me to fire a weapon here?" The LC87 would be powerful enough to punch through even heavy structural glass, unless they were talking starship-grade viewports. In that case the blaster bolt would simply ricochet and likely hit one of them. What he was asking was dangerously reckless at best and suicidal at worst. "I'd be putting us in danger if I did that. At risk of losing a contract I have to refuse." He glanced to Pepper, who didn't make any sign of his approval or disapproval for his decision.

"A prudent decision, Fox. You passed my first test, actually. I need a mercenary who won't needlessly put lives at risk. I do, however, still need to provide my demonstration." Wester plucked the LC87 out of its case, shouldered it, and pulled the trigger. As Fox cringed he noticed nobody else seemed that fazed at the executive's actions, especially the calm, professional air at which he fired the weapon.

The LC87 emitted a harsh, pulsing whine accompanied by a blazing orange particle beam which impacted the screen almost instantaneously. Miraculously it held, a bright blue splash emitting from the screen as the bolt hit it. The target remained, without any indication that it had even been hit. Without a word Wester engaged the carbine's safety catch and placed it back into its case.

"What you saw there was a standard six kilojoule beam from a blaster rifle impacting one of the newest technologies in personal body armor. Elements of Remnant forces have now managed to integrate electromagnetic shield generators into light combat armor. As you can tell, anyone with one of these generators is very well protected against blaster fire. This is why we initiated Project Firestorm. Take it from here, Ivan." Wester motioned over to one of the canids before sitting down.

Surprisingly, the scientist who stood up had the build of a nightclub bouncer; he wore his labcoat like an ill-fitted suit. Furthermore Fox's eye could tell by his movements that he likely had a soldier's background. He didn't know much about the weapon development process, but leave it to a soldier for a more efficient way around a tactical problem. Ivan spoke in a thick, gutteral accent despite his flawless Lylatian. "Yuri and I spent several years trying to figure out how best to defeat Venom combat armors. Our breakthrough was actually quite simple. We use technology of the past to defeat technology of the future."

"You see, modern blasters have been around for over six hundred years yet have changed little in their general concept. They are simple, reliable, high capacity, and accurate. However, they are defeated by these new energy shield systems as well as the ceramic plating on heavily armored spacesuits. The shields repel a blaster's particle beam and the ceramic can simply absorb the heat energy without compromising the wearer. This is why EVA infantry units such as Venom's Eradicators and the LDF Vac-Hards use heavy weapons such as plasma rifles, grenade launchers, and even scaled-down starfighter blaster cannons."

Pepper spoke up, his gruff voice adding a counterpoint to the accented Lylatian. "Those weapons are prohibitively expensive and are quite dangerous without intense training and discipline. The only forces who use plasma rifles outside of boarding parties are pirates. Even if you were to make a mass-produced, inexpensive plasma rifle you're looking at fifty meters in range at best and the intense heat would cause massive collateral damage."

"That is quite right, General." Ivan continued. "So, we have a pronounced need for an infantry weapon which will defeat these shields at a nominal cost. This is why I said technology of the past can defeat technology of the future, threats which these shields aren't equipped to handle."

Ivan extracted another obsidian case from underneath the desk, this time opening it and presenting the weapon within for Fox's benefit. The vulpine's eyebrows scrunched as he tried to figure out what to make of it. The weapon looked primitively simple, a composite stock and forearm surrounding the alloy workings and barrel of the weapon. What looked like a secondary barrel rested atop of the main one, yet Fox could tell that any emissions from it would collide with the front sight. There didn't seem to be any sort of power ports, beam adjustment settings or diagnostic interfaces on it. Actually, it looked mechanical in nature. "I don't see any standard gas cartridge adapters or power ports on the weapon. How do you charge it?"

"You don't, McCloud." Ivan reached into the case and brought out a curved plastic part. "This is a chemical projectile weapon, called a firearm in the old days. It utilizes a separate cartridge to fire a metallic projectile at high speeds and great accuracy." The canine stripped a round out of the plastic container and passed it to the confused vulpine. It was quite small yet fairly dense; a heavy metal projectile was embedded in the top of a carbon composite casing. "The standard projectile is 5.45mm in diameter and 3.2 grams in mass. This is fired at a velocity of over 900 meters per second. In this weapon accurate fire can be attained up to 500 meters. The PR-74 rifle has major benefits over existing blaster carbines despite only delivering a fraction of the impact energy to its target. As Wester said, a demonstration is in order. If you please, Yuri?"

The older-looking canine took the weapon from his compatriot's hands, snapping the plastic container into the bottom of the weapon with military precision. He operated a handle on the side of the weapon, the rifle responding with a metallic clatter. The scientist snapped the rifle into his shoulder with the speed and ease of an expert and took aim on the sheet of armor which had withstood a blaster bolt with no visible ill effects.

In the enclosed space the PR-74's report was extremely loud when compared to a blaster. The flash from the weapon's muzzle was a blink of orange; there was no telltale streak of energy to tell where the weapon was firing from. The screen twitched as the projectile hit it; beyond that there was a loud spatter from behind the armor. From the sound and the ray of light shining through a solitary hole in the screen, Fox could tell it had penetrated without a fuss.

Without any prompting the vulpine stood up and examined the screen. A small hole had been cleanly punched through the layered material mere centimeters from the spot where the LC87's bolt had impacted. Beyond the screen was an equally surprising discovery; the only damage to the viewport behind the target were a few shallow pockmarks.

Wester's voice piped in from behind him. "That's standard starship-grade material, as well. I'm not about to shoot up my station beyond what we already have, but another advantage the PR-74 has is its lower tendency to ricochet or penetrate critical structures within a starship or space station. The bullet simply fragments when hitting a hard surface; a frangible design as the designers call it."

"But why call me out here for a demonstration?" Fox inquired, his focus switching to the assembly lines for the new rifles. "I'm a mercenary, that much is true, but as I'm sure you're aware I do most of my fighting in an Arwing. Why not call the Strikers, or possibly the Rangers?" He turned around, a slight skepticism showing in his actions and his voice. "If you're looking for someone to field-test your new weapons there's easier, less-expensive ways to do it."

Pepper spoke up, standing up as he did so. "Because you're the only one we can trust with this situation, Fox. Yes, the PR-74 will be undergoing a field test but by Ivan and Yuri. You will be acting as support."

"Support for what, General?" Fox blinked, reluctantly returning to his seat as Pepper motioned him over. Everyone else followed suit, Yuri unloading the prototype rifle. Fox noticed a fluidity in his motion; an utter familiarity with the weapon which seemed strange for one so recently developed. Something didn't quite sit right with him, but they desperately needed a job. That thought kept his mouth shut while Pepper fiddled with his datapad.

A moment later the table's holoprojector sprang to life, an image of a planet appearing upon it. It didn't look much different than Corneria, except for the larger amount of landmass spanning three continents versus the Lylatian motherworld's five. The almost lifelike level of detail made it obvious that the image came from a well-equipped survey craft; the sweeping forests and cerulean oceans would have just about made it a resort planet if he had any idea what or where it was.

"Most of you are unfamiliar with this place. This planet was called Cerinia, in the neighboring Merdan Cluster. From here it's a distance of sixty-seven light years, or about two months in Slipspace to reach." Pepper pointed to the hologram, using it as a backdrop to his narration.

"Approximately fifty years ago the Traders' Guild discovered Cerinia during a survey for mineral mining locations in other star clusters. However, as Cerinia was inhabited and of insufficient technological progress to make contact with them it was illegal to set foot on their planet. We just received this information from the Traders' Guild itself, which has been conducting illegal trade with Cerinia since its discovery.

"This information would have been enough to bring serious charges against pretty much all of the Guild's leadership for Section G violations, but we've had to put it aside. Two days ago several ships docked at Markatt Station in Aquas, with nearly fifty Cerinian refugees. By their accounts their world was attacked and completely destroyed by Venom Remnant forces."

"Wait." Fox spoke up. "Why would the Remnant completely destroy a habitable planet, especially one like that? I can see them invading and using it as a base of operations, but why would they lay it to waste?"

Yuri joined the conversation before Pepper could answer. "I was part of the Traders' Guild and was on several vessels doing the Cerinian run. The inhabitants are not what you could call normal, Mr. McCloud. While they are not as technologically advanced as compared to Lylatian standards, they more than make up for it in abilities which could be deemed supernatural.

"Many Cerinians, especially those in higher stations of their society, possess telepathic, telekinetic, and other abilities not seen outside of Lylatian fiction. Scientific analysis of their talents wasn't completed, but what little the Guild did suggested genetic mutations allowing Cerinians to manipulate electromagnetic fields in various ways. This may be why Venomian forces attacked and destroyed Cerinia; they wanted these secrets for themselves."

"This seems to be the case." Pepper retorted. "Either way, we need to find out exactly what happened on Cerinia and track down the Remnant forces there. Since Yuri and Ivan spent time there and have developed this new weapon technology, we want them to go with you in order to investigate. If they're willing to lay waste to a planet over this it's something we should be worried about; as it is we're stretched thin trying to control our borders."

"But how do we get there and back relatively quickly?" Fox asked, absentmindedly scratching the side of his muzzle. "We're talking at least four months from the distances you're describing, and frankly I'm not sure the Great Fox will hold up to a Slipspace trip for that amount of time."

"I think we have a solution for that." Gareth's voice carried into the room for the first time since Fox laid eyes on him. "I don't know the specifics, but I'm assuming your friend Slippy knows the workings of the Beltino Warp Gate system?" Not allowing for a rebuttal, the assistant pointed at the viewport. "If he can help set it up we have a shot of opening a one-way Gate to Cerinia; we know its coordinates. I'm pretty sure I saw two Gate assemblies in the station inventory, right?"

Wester nodded. "We were going to use them for a private Gate path between this facility and our main distribution point for the completed PR-74's, an expensive yet surefire way to reduce the risks of a pirate attack. I don't think the Board will be happy with this, but we don't have much choice."

He crossed over to Fox, his expression turning stony. "In addition to Pepper's standard fee, I'm willing to tack on six million credits for the protection of my employees and the equipment which they bring. I'll also include one PR-74 rifle for each member of your crew as well as prototype sidearms we didn't demonstrate here. You're known as one of the best mercs in the business, McCloud. Do we have a deal?" Wester extended a hand to the vulpine, awaiting his decision.

"We'll take the job." Fox replied, grasping Wester's hand and giving it a firm shake.