FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

28 December, 3048 LDC

74,762km outside Lower Orbit, Planet Cerinia

Cornerian Navy Registered Privateer Vessel Great Fox

10:36 Local Time

"Careful with that, Ivan! We don't need this damaged!" Yuri's voice growled from the other end of the weapons case the two stoutly built canines were maneuvering into the diminutive cargo bay of their Shrike. All around them the hangar bay of the Great Fox was alive with activity; several maintenance robots rolling on rubber treads providing assistance to both the crew and guests of the weary dreadnaught. The two CDI weapon engineers were currently moving essential gear back into the shuttle they had requisitioned from the station's defense squadron; a task neither of them had thought they would be undergoing so quickly.

"I'm trying, Yuri. Past' zakroi!" Ivan snapped, the tall, brown-furred dog finding an extra burst of strength in his irritation to finally wrench the case into the confines of the shuttle. The cargo bay wasn't aptly named; its dimensions about the size of a large closet. While one of the walls was occupied with a weapons rack capable of securing several rifles without the risk of theft, Fox McCloud made it very clear that he wasn't going to have weaponry sitting on his ship unless it was locked in his armory.

"You know what is in this crate as well as I do, tovarish." Yuri growled, helping the other hound secure the crate in a place which wouldn't be underfoot. "Research journals, our old credentials, everything we will need when we get back. Without this the past fifteen years will be for nothing. We will simply be locked away as curiosities. Keep the data secure and remember the plan."

"Do you believe this will work?" Ivan inquired as he stood back, taking a moment to survey their handiwork. Thoughts bounced around the engineer's head; were they really that close to accomplishing their goal? What would their homeland be like after so many years away? Would they be received as heroes, or as lunatics? The prospects of those questions being answered within the next few days brought a heady feeling.

"It is our only chance to do so, and it is slim at best." Yuri responded. "The Beacon is down there, and it is likely the Remnant is searching for it as we speak. Once we obtain it we will be able to escape this decadent, imperialist society."

Ivan grunted. "Again with the dialectic, Yuri? We have both profited handsomely from the fruits of the Revolution, so we are not so unlike them. I do wish to see the motherland again, but to see my Natasha and..."

The scientist's explanation was cut short by an inquiry from outside. "You two need any help in there?" Star Fox's technical genius, Slippy, poked his head into the Shrike's cargo bay. Without much thought or perhaps to stop their current conversation, Yuri waved the portly frog into the craft.

13:18 Local Time

Fox McCloud slid into the cockpit of his aging Space Dynamics SX-326 Arwing; the very craft that had effectively ended the Venom War over eight years ago. The revolutionary fighter had seen better days as evidenced by the faded blue and white paint scheme and more than its fair share of carbon scoring and other battle scars over the years. While the old warhorse was supplanted by the modernized SX-326/A and some CDF squadrons were awaiting shipments of the next-generation SX-403 Arwing II the vulpine pilot preferred his old machine. Slippy's optimizations and modifications had, over time, allowed the aging platform to keep its edge and a hypernet call to Space Dynamics' head of R&D had revealed that the new Arwing wasn't an incredible leap forward over his highly customized fighter. It wasn't feasible to upgrade anyway; even with his very hefty discount and the small fortune this job would net them the new craft was still quite out of reach.

His glove-covered fingers switched on the climate control system almost immediately; the armored spacesuit he was forced to wear was quite stifling. The thickly padded suit covered his body from the neck down; the compression around his normally bushy tail was an especially distracting annoyance he tried to force out of his thoughts. The suit's featureless helmet sat on the small cargo shelf behind his seat; a reminder he would have to be wearing the thing after taking off from Cerinia.

"Fox to Peppy. Firing her up now." His voice came over the communicator loud and clear as he pressed the sequence of buttons to decouple the power leads to the Great Fox, switch over to the Arwing's primary reactor and start the engines. The familiar sequence of vibrations through the control stick and the seat of his pants was a welcome companion; the old warbird was ready for action. "Startup sequence complete. Awaiting green light for launch."

"Confirmed, Fox." Peppy's voice carried through the console's integrated speakers. "Peppy to CDI Shrike, confirm your ready status?" While he awaited the response from the CDI scientists, Fox scanned the diagnostic readout on his HUD. Everything was functioning normally.

The odd accent of one of the scientists replied. He thought it was Yuri, but he wasn't entirely sure. "Shrike to Peppy. Affirmative on our ready status. Ready to launch on your command, over." The use of the somewhat archaic comms protocol wasn't lost on Fox, although that was only one of the eccentric mannerisms the two scientists had displayed. Even ROB wasn't able to process the snippets of their native language; the best guess the protocol robot could hazard was that there was a possible link between it and an ancient Fortunan dialect.

"Confirmed, Shrike." Peppy's voice paused for a moment. "By law I am required to inform all occupants on the planetbound vessels that there are active chemical and biological agents within the landing zone. I am also required to confirm that everyone aboard these vessels has access to protection gear of at least Level Six rating."

Once more Fox called out his affirmation, followed by both the CDI scientists. They were as ready as they could be. The vulpine pilot paused for a moment as Slippy's voice entered the channel. "I've got a more precise lock on the power emissions. Looks like a Venom prefab structure sitting in what looks like a small town on the southwestern portion of the second-largest continent." The holodisplay that comprised his HUD opened a new panel as the information was sent to it; a small rectangle appearing over a diagram of the planet. The navicomputer confirmed its new waypoint with a soft beep. "I'm putting you guys down about ten klicks west of the dropzone. It's a bit of a walk, but I'm not seeing any sensor emissions so you'll be able to get there unnoticed. They're trying to hide from us."

"Then how did you pick them up in the first place?" Yuri's voice entered the channel, his odd accent not enough to cover up the tone of pleasant surprise in his statement. "I thought Venomian silent running protocols were quite efficient?"

"They are, but sometimes clients make partial payments in the form of spacedock time and upgrades to the Great Fox. A couple of years ago Cornett-Gran retrofitted one of their top shelf mil-spec scout and survey packages in payment for a couple of high-risk convoy escorts." Slippy was beaming enough that his sense of accomplishment was clearly heard over the comm channel. "With a few of my tweaks the Great Fox has sensor performance on par with an Isolator-class recon craft."

The sharp whistle on the Shrike's end was enough, causing Fox to offer a wry grin to his instruments. They might have been working on a shoestring budget most of the time, but they didn't skirt through jobs on their fame alone. When they could they improved their methods and equipment, and Slippy's technical expertise gave them the edge they needed. Having sensor systems that had three times the range of the illegally modified civilian units most pirate groups used and just under twice that of even the most advanced Remnant systems was a major advantage.

"Alright, guys." Peppy's voice cut in. "Enough chatter. Let's get this operation underway. CDI Shrike, you are cleared for launch. Coordinates are loaded into your navicomputer. Fox, you're cleared for launch once the Shrike reaches MSD. Good luck."

The trip to Cerinia was uneventful; routine despite the horrific circumstances. Fox had to stop himself from the automatic response to hail ground control and request a planetfall vector to the nearest spaceport. Even if there was a spaceport on Cerinia, nobody would be answering and it was entirely possible that the Remnant forces below would pick up on their comm traffic. For that reason they maintained a channel blackout. Instead, he backed off on the speed and prepared his craft for atmospheric entry.

While atmo-ent was far safer than it was in the early days of spaceflight, it was still something to be handled with care. The correct angle of attack was needed to make a smooth entry, and the shields had to be handled just right in order to not flare them out and cause potential hull damage. While spacecraft hulls were designed to handle entry, shield generators were the preferred way of dealing with the heat and turbulence. While the autopilot systems on pretty much every modern vessel were more than capable of handling it, Fox preferred to do it manually.

The Arwing hit Cerinia's mesosphere as gently as Fox could finesse it, its shields absorbing the thermal shock with a cherry-red glow that obscured most of his vision. What he could see, however, was breathtaking. The massive continent loomed before him, its 6,000km wide mass flanked by oceans that nearly dwarfed it. It was daylight, allowing him to see the collection of mountains, sweeping plains, rivers, lakes, and lush forests that were somehow unaffected by the Purger. The air looked deceptively clean and clear, although the hazardous atmosphere warning message was blinking at him as a constant reminder of the certain death that awaited him beyond the canopy.

The Shrike stayed ahead of him, its shields glowing in concert with the Arwing's. Things were going smoothly, promising an easy insertion. However, the harsh reality of the next few hours weighed heavily upon his mind, combat in a very hostile environment against a greater number of Venomian soldiers, accompanied by a couple of weapons designers who insisted on testing prototype rifles that could likely fail them at any given moment. Their lack of military credentials and combat experience made them a liability. Yet, that was the reason why they were being paid to do this.

The altimeter took a few moments to calibrate itself to the slightly thicker pressure of the Cerinian atmosphere, finally agreeing with the laser readings of the surface. They were around 85km over the planet's surface, on a course that would take them well away from the area where the Remnant base was located. The plan was to take a very low approach to the landing site to reduce the risk of being noticed by sentries, cameras, or passive detection sensors.

The glow dissipated around 65km, the craft slowing down to do a leisurely sweep around the continent. The Arwing's engines screamed as Fox dove, bringing the starfighter down to lower altitudes relatively quickly. As soon as they hit 10km they leveled off, the Shrike waggling its stubby wings to indicate it was ready for the final approach.

Easy does it was the rule for the day as they started another descent, down to only 150 meters. The two craft sped over forests and small, dead towns; the occasional stone castle and estate flashing past the canopy reminded Fox of the pre-Unification ruins he had seen on a school field trip when he was a child. This had once been a planet teeming with intelligent life and a society that could have been contacted by the Cornerian authorities peacefully; now they were all but extinct. The merc shook that thought out of his head; he had to think tactically. Their task was to infiltrate and gather information on the Remnant's plans behind this attack. If they were willing to use a Purger to silence an entire race, it was likely to conceal plans that would affect the entire Lylat System.

They reached their designated landing site thirty minutes later, a large clearing within a deeply wooded area about four kilometers away from a small village they spotted on the way in. Without any prompting the _Shrike_settled to the grassy soil, gracefully touching down with the precision that indicated an experienced pilot behind the controls. Fox's Arwing hovered next to it, his glove-covered hands dancing with the stick and control panel until the soft thump indicated that he had landed. The hard part was soon to come.

Fox reached behind his seat, maneuvering the spacesuit's helmet into his lap. Getting it on wasn't easy; he had to contort in his seat, nearly smacking his head on the canopy before sliding the hinged headgear behind his ears. The faceplate closed forwards, sealing itself to the fixed collar around his neck. His tongue was filled with the taste of stale, metallic air as he took a breath, followed by the helmet's HUD coming to life and establishing network links to his Arwing, the Shrike, and the spacesuits of the CDI scientists.

Meters detailing the life support duration and integrity of his suit imposed itself in the bottom left corner of his vision. The life support would last for thirty-six hours, far more time than he planned to be on Cerinia. Still, his heart leapt into his throat as he disengaged the canopy, ignoring the dangerous atmosphere warning blinking at him. The scenery around him looked deceptively calm and serene; a warm summer's day in one of the nature preserves on Corneria came to mind. Despite the temperatures hovering around 27C, the suit's life support systems kept him rather cool.

The rear hatch on the Shrike slid open, allowing the two scientists to exit the craft. Both of them were equipped with a flat black set of heavy environmental armor, although he couldn't tell who exactly made their gear. The bulky plates covering their torsos seemed to indicate the copious use of ceramics. While bulkier and heavier than the standard reflective plates in his suit, ceramics were meant to protect from shrapnel as well as to absorb the energy from standard blasters. CDI saw fit to equip their inventors with pretty top-shelf combat gear.

Neither of them carried a blaster. Both scientists carried a variant of the PR-74 rifle they were field testing. One carried a very squat, compact version whose forestock was made out of wood, strangely enough. The weapon looked like it had been put through its paces already; scars in the wood and scratches on the metal gave it a well-worn appearance despite its relatively recent introduction. A long, heavy rifle was slung upon his back, likely a marksman's weapon of some sort. The other carried a larger variant of the PR-74; a bulkier ammunition magazine was secured underneath and the longer barrel featured a sturdy bipod. It looked like their equivalent of a support weapon. Both carried bulky sidearms in holsters integrated with the armor; the presence of multiple ammunition magazines suggested they were also slugthrowers and not blasters.

The vulpine merc opted for more familiar, battle-proven armament. His Vanguard pistol was already sitting in the suit's integrated holster, a spare gas cartridge giving him five hundred shots in total; even if they ran into heavy resistance he would be more than covered. Fox popped open the storage compartment behind his seat and retrieved the LC87 carbine he kept as part of his crash kit. He kept one spare cart with the carbine, more than enough to last for a few serious engagements. He felt the CDI scientists eyeing him as he slung the blaster over his shoulder and jumped to the ground.

"Let's hope you are experienced with long hikes, Captain McCloud." Ivan's voice rang in his ears, followed by a jovial laugh that was more good-natured than snarky. The IFF suite finally decided to boot, revealing Ivan as the one with the squad support rifle.

"I'm hoping the same thing for you two." Fox shot back, not holding back the hint of skepticism in his own voice. "I keep it out of public, but I did earn a gray band in bakiz a few years ago and compete in tournaments when I have the free time." Fox wasn't at the top of the heap as a combatant but his lightning quick reaction times and ability to think several moves ahead of his opponents made for a pretty nasty surprise for those who thought the fighter jock wouldn't be that competent outside of the cockpit.

"Impressive." The scientist's voice carried a measure of curiosity. "Once this is over, perhaps I could interest you in a sparring session? There aren't many on the station that are proficient in bakiz, although..."

"Perhaps we could continue this later, after the mission?" Yuri's voice broke into the channel, his impatience readily audible. A few muttered words in that strange language crossed over the channel; even through the armor the big hound visibly stiffened. "Let's go. We have about three hours to cross ten kilometers; the sooner we get this done the better."

Despite the fact that Fox and the CDI VIPs were on the ground, the two remaining members of the Star Fox team had work to do. Peppy had the double duty of monitoring the comm channels and coordinating Fox's assault on the Remnant base, although with radio silence being observed all across the board there wasn't much for him to do but keep an ear open for anything the Remnant might broadcast.

Slippy was quite busy, however. The team's resident technical wizard was scanning all the various sensor systems; every scrap of data they could collect was being analyzed to give the Cornerian authorities a clear picture of what happened in Cerinia's final moments. ROB did most of the heavy lifting, but even with a 'smart'-AI equipped robot doing the work there was need for a sapient being to double-check the results.

The ion trails they picked up were vital clues. Most starships used fusion reactors to power banks of ion engines, a rather power efficient form of propulsion. However, the primary drawback was that the stream of ionized 'exhaust' was easily tracked and typically lasted quite a while in the relative vacuum of space. Military and pirate craft usually used dispersers which 'broke up' the trail, making them more difficult to pick up on sensor systems. These systems were heavily restricted for use on civilian craft, meaning it was highly doubtful most of the Cerinian vessels had them.

Slippy's fingers manipulated the holographic projector in front of him, singling out the trails which were obviously made from small, civilian-grade craft. About fifty of them were present, all but a few of them terminating in debris fields that marked their tragic ends. From the data Pepper included with his briefing, there were a handful of older-revision _Shrike_patrol craft that made up the planet's defense fleet. Those were also singled out, making a grand total of six ships whose trails originated from the planet and safely made it to Slipspace. Even the fact those six survived was quite amazing.

The Remnant had always made good dispersers a priority for any of their craft, from capital ships to fighters. After the war they had to resort to hit and run tactics to raid for needed supplies, and bringing attention to their scattered bases of operation was a serious issue. Alert sensor operators had brought down more than a few bases, and as such in order to survive the Remnant was always on the move. That was where the Great Fox's drastically improved sensor suite came in. Slippy counted no less than two hundred different Venomian trails in operation, most of them fighters and assault craft. Eight dreadnaughts and two battle carriers had been present, causing him to frown at the revelation. That was over half their estimated total strength.

The assault craft were easy to spot; their trails leading to and from the planet, ending up along the same path as the carriers. Eighty of them rounded out the operation, giving more unanswered questions. Had they been looking for something? If so, what? What was worth the genocide of an entire race to cover it up?

Something shook him out of his line of thought. An anomaly, of sorts; an ion trail he had missed previously as it hadn't originated from the planet. This one had somehow started near the position of a Remnant battle group, existing for a scant 1200km before disappearing entirely. There wasn't a large ionic cloud at the end of it, rather a small debris field and some residual radiation. That particular craft had been hit but somehow made it into Slipspace. "What do you make of this, Peppy?" With the pressing of a few buttons the contents of his display was transferred over to the hare's workstation.

Peppy glanced at the information for a few moments, adjusting his old-style spectacles as he did so. He had mostly retired himself from fighter craft service, but fighter pilots weren't exactly supposed to have corrective surgery. In order to maintain his credentials just in case he had to make an emergency trip in one of the Arwings he decided to deal with his aging eyesight. "I think I've seen similar when Venom started to invade Katina. Politicians and industrial tycoons put their entire families in stasis and set their personal yachts to run silent in an attempt to sneak by the Imperials."

Slippy scratched the side of his head, dredging up memories of their involvement to free the planet during the war. "That's right... most of them ended up safely escaping, right?" He cast a glance back to the display, eying the debris field more closely. "Though, I think it looks like this one got found out and took a few hits before it escaped. This radiation has to be a substantial power leak."

Peppy nodded at the younger amphibian. "I hate to say it, but it's probably sitting dead in the middle of space with a hit like that. It's worth checking in with Pepper to see what he knows about the survivors, though. Whoever was on it could have gotten lucky and made it to Cornerian-held space."

Years later, Slippy would point to that exact moment as proof that the universe had an impeccable sense of irony. The chime of the communicator rung around the room, startling both of the Star Fox members from their work. Peppy stabbed at the button to answer the call, blinking with surprise at the identity of the caller.

Pepper's visage occupied the comm terminals at their stations. Both members of Star Fox glanced at their former commander and current boss for an awkward moment until Peppy regained his composure. "Hi, Pepper. We were just discussing giving you a call. Is there anything we can do for you?"

The aging hound nodded. "I'll cut to the chase, Peppy. I was contacted by an agent from the Intelligence Bureau a few moments ago, a Kaern Matall. He was assigned to debrief the Cerinian refugees on Aquas, and came up with some information about what we might be looking for."

"Cerinian society is divided into several castes, or social classes. Many of the higher statured ones possess what we can only describe as the ability to manipulate electromagnetic fields in several different ways. Reading thoughts is a common one, or manipulating the elements." Pepper paused for a moment, surveying Peppy's confused expression in contrast to Slippy's curious look.

"One of the rarest abilities for a Cerinian to possess is called Channeling, which is a way for the Cerinian to communicate with ancient guardian spirits housed in their temples. Only nine Cerinians were known to have this ability at the time of the Venomian attack, and several Cerinians we interviewed said they were specifically looking for these Channelers."

Peppy nodded, glancing over the display which held the various readouts of the ship activity they discovered over Cerinia. "Let me guess. There is a catch to this." Things weren't always this cut and dried. What likely happened was that the Remnant picked up a couple of these Channelers and they would be asked to support a rescue mission.

"There are fears that these Channelers are a key instrument in plans to resurrect Andross. I don't need to say that these plans need to be stopped at any cost. I'm currently chasing other leads as to the whereabouts of the Remnant fleet, but we need any information we can find. There were a couple of reports that someone was out there killing the Channelers on Cerinia before the Venomians could get to them. However, one likely escaped."

"How did they escape?" Slippy inquired. "Most of the ships that fled Cerinia were destroyed by the Venom fleet. What kind of craft did they escape on? What did it... wait. Was it under a silent running protocol, do you know?"

Pepper paused for a moment, reaching for a terminal which wasn't in the holoprojector's rendering field. "It says that it was an old Vucsed luxury shuttle, transponders originally coded as the Garitt's Drifter. It says here that... yes, it was under a silent running protocol. The Channeler was placed in stasis in an attempt at making it out of the system. You found something, Slippy?"

The young engineer nodded. "Sure did. It looks like the ship was detected once it got past the skirmish line held by the Remnant. They hit it a couple of times, but it managed to make it into Slipspace. I'm seeing signs of some serious hull damage and fuel leaks, so unless it made it to a spaceport or inhabited planet there's a good chance it's floating dead, sir."

"The ship's occupant is the daughter of the highest Cerinian official to survive the attack. He is about on the same level as a Cornerian Senator, so as a gesture of good faith I would like you to investigate after your mission on Cerinia is wrapped up. Even if she is dead recovering her body will assure the Cerinian refugees that we are taking their plight seriously." Pepper paused for a moment, glancing away for an instant before returning to the call. "Is there any progress to report with Fox and the CDI team?"

"Fox hit the ground with the scientists about two hours ago." Peppy replied. "There hasn't been any sign of Venom activity, so they're not expecting visitors. If these scientists don't bungle things up, they'll be taken completely by surprise."

Fox's opinion on the two 'scientists' had changed slightly over the past three hours. He wasn't concerned about them being bungling intellectuals that didn't know the first thing about small unit tactics and combat. The fact that they moved like experienced soldiers worried him, however. Even for weapons designers, the fluidity of their movements and strict, unwavering discipline was relieving and disconcerting at the same time.

The single word caused both of the scientists to halt in their place amongst the dense network of willowy, thin trees they were navigating. "Vragi." Ivan's left hand disengaged from its place on the forestock of his support weapon and pointed ahead. "Yuri, veslo."

"Da." Yuri dropped his squat carbine, letting it dangle on a simple sling attached to his armor. He withdrew a cylinder about the size of a small oxygen canister and attached it to the muzzle of the sniper rifle he took off his back. The CDI employee tucked the weapon against his shoulder and crept forward.

"What's going on?" Fox inquired as he scanned the forest ahead. He couldn't see anything and his suit's limited sensor package wasn't picking up any transponders, either.

"Sentry ahead. Yuri will engage quietly." Ivan responded, keeping his eyes open for any trouble. "We are near the outpost. Our goal is to move in as close as possible before attacking, give them as little warning as possible.

"You say that like you've done this before." Fox stated, keeping his suspicions internalized for the time being.

"We have." Ivan continued to scan his sector, finger off the trigger of his HPR-74 yet alert enough to make Fox scan the area. While his armored spacesuit wasn't classified as top-grade combat armor, he should have been able to spot something on his sensors. Unless the suits they were wearing had some serious sensor suites installed, they shouldn't have been a marked improvement over what he had.

"I see him. Two hundred fifty meters ahead." Yuri's voice carried over the channel. "No other contacts. He's in Venomian environmental armor, older model. Armed with their standard V31 blaster rifle. In position to make the shot. It's your game, McCloud."

"Link me." With those words a small visual feed came up on his HUD, his suit connected with Yuri's onboard camera. Through visual enhancement he saw the Remnant guard standing past the treeline, the crimson armor sticking out like a loud Aquan outfit at a Cornerian business meeting. The soldier's posture was lax; his rifle carried like he had absolutely nothing to fear on this dead world, that his posting was merely a formality. Beyond him lay their objective: a simple two story prefab structure, likely placed by one of their dropships. The buildings were designed to act as outposts on worlds with hostile environments, which made sense here. While they hadn't run into Cerinian remains, the skeletons of several small and medium-sized forest creatures were pretty heavily littered in some areas of the forest they had pushed through. The hostile environment warning was still displayed on his HUD, thankfully relegating itself into his peripheral vision and not providing a blinking distraction after five minutes of being on the planet's surface. "Are you sure you can take him out quietly?" Fox mentally cursed himself for not bringing a damper for his blaster.

"Subsonic ammunition and a suppressor work wonders, McCloud." Yuri's reply was curt. "Even if I somehow missed the guard might think a branch snapped in the distance." The rifle was raised into a firing position, the camera's view switching to that of a standard battle scope reticule, although modified with some sort of ranging mechanism. The distance to the target was just over two hundred fifty meters, and a red dot hovered above the target's head. "Awaiting your command."

The merc took a deep breath. Killing was a part of the job sometimes, although actually witnessing someone dying instead of the flash of an exploding starfighter wasn't something he ever got used to. Part of him wondered who the Remnant soldier was, who his family could have been. Yet, at the same time he was implicit in an act that killed millions of innocent sentient beings, unable to even defend themselves. "Okay. Go ahead."

Almost immediately the rifle spoke, sounding more like a pressure relief valve than a blaster discharge or the unique explosion from the PR-74. Simultaneously the soldier's head snapped back, his body tumbling to the ground as the life was snatched out of him before he had the chance to realize it was happening. Fox bit back a yelp of surprise; he had never seen anything short of a heavy blaster rifle hit a Venomian hardsuit well enough for a quick, clean kill.

"Tungsten projectile." Ivan commented. "Even at subsonic velocity it will punch clean through their armor. It's designed for extended use and light weight, not to protect against kinetic weapons like these." He motioned to Fox. "We need to move quickly."

The three rushed forward, sprinting through the trees to their destination. Fox reached the body of the Remnant soldier first, fishing into a pouch on his armor and extracting a dark gray keycard. If the soldiers inside the prefab were as lax as the solitary sentry they posted outside, they wouldn't know they were under attack until it was too late. The element of surprise was fully on their side.

Yuri had already exchanged the sniper rifle for the squat carbine he favored, rushing up to the primary entrance of the structure. Ivan soon followed, sliding in behind him in a standard close-quarter door breaching formation. Fox reached the opposite end of the door, one hand on his blaster and the other clenching the pilfered keycard.

"I need to ask, have you done a hostile entry from an airlock before?" Yuri asked, his body a tense coil of violent energy simply waiting for the right moment to release. He had the mannerisms of a seasoned special forces veteran, despite his job as a weapons developer.

"Yes." Fox replied, hovering the keycard over the reader it was coded to. "Ready when you are." Yuri offered a nod towards him, and the merc swiped the card. A chime sounded after a moment, the building's airlock cycling to let the dangerous atmosphere in. The door slid open, devoid of Remnant soldiers.

"Move in." Yuri ordered, letting his weapon lead the way. Everyone involved knew the dangers of breaching an airlock, but if they had Cerinian prisoners in there simply blowing a hole inside and letting the Purger-tainted atmosphere kill the occupants wasn't an option. "Weapons free." Fox tucked his carbine into his shoulder as Yuri and Ivan followed suit. The airlock door gave a soft hiss as it closed, the hazardous atmosphere warning on his HUD blinking out as it cycled in the purified air.

Without warning the airlock door hissed open again, the two bored guards behind it somewhat more alert due to the unscheduled activation. The alertness didn't give them any more than an alarmed thought and an attempt to raise their blasters when all Hell broke loose.

Yuri beat them to the punch, the small carbine spitting out a deafening roar as it rattled its deadly payload into the nearest guard. Ivan was a split second slower, his support weapon thundering into the confines of the prefab. Both guards were falling to the floor as Fox locked onto a third one, standing up from his post at a security station just beyond. Two blaster bolts lanced through him, sending him to the ground like the others.

Wordlessly they pushed into the building, weapons covering all avenues of approach. "Clear!" Fox called out, followed by the affirmations of the others. They were in a small security station at the entrance, and if the staff followed standard Venom protocols they had already dealt with half of the guards. Now the dangerous part began; the element of surprise was out the window and only quick, brutal room to room combat would give them a chance of success.

Without stalling they reached the door to the main facility, sliding it open to reveal a large, open room flanked by individual rooms on all sides; both floors taken up with what appeared to be a mixture of personal quarters and holding cells. The recreation area and what was obviously a laboratory dominated the room; lab equipment and computers were neatly stationed around work tables.

Neither the CDI scientists nor the vulpine mercenary gave anything more than a spare glance; they were already marking the positions of the room's occupants as they rushed in. Five Venomians in science team uniforms were already scurrying behind their equipment. On the walkways above doors were opening, one uniformed figure lifting a rifle to his shoulder. Fox was already sighting in on him; two more blaster bolts stabbed out, followed by a short burst of projectile fire from Ivan. The Remnant soldier was dead before he hit the floor.

"Ivan, cover the top! Fox, cover the eggheads while I advance!" Yuri growled as he moved forward. One of the scientists made the mistake of reaching for a blaster pistol mounted under his desk; the simian's head literally shattered as Yuri shot him from mere meters away. His filtered voice carried into the room. "I am not fucking around here! Anyone pulls a trick like that again, they get shot!"

Two doors burst open simultaneously, the pair of Remnant guards on the top floor coming out vastly more prepared. Unlike their comrades they hastily donned their armor, coming out firing. The blaster bolts drove Fox to seek cover, diving behind a large lab table as a couple of shots came too close for comfort. The crimson battle armor was easily recognized: Red Storm. They were one of the most fanatical units in the Remnant, willing to do anything to spread Venomian influence under Andross' name. They pretty much deified the deceased emperor.

They were also equipped with some of the best combat armor the Remnant had, with personal shield generators as well as hefty blaster and shrapnel protection. The few shots Fox landed were absorbed, the shields easily turning away the particle beam weapons. He muttered a curse under his breath; he couldn't risk getting his suit punctured by a lucky hit.

Ivan and Yuri turned their attention to the soldiers. "Idi Cyuda, svoloch!" Ivan's voice roared from his armor's speakers, the support weapon falling upon the nearest Red Storm guard. The HPR-74 belched out autofire; to its target's dismay the tungsten projectiles bypassed the shield system as if it hadn't even been switched on. The guard fell backwards, his armor pockmarked with stylus-sized craters. Yuri had targeted the other guard with a similar result; a few shots fired by Fox were still deflected by the shields, but the projectiles were getting through just fine.

The guards managed to evade another torrent of fire from the CDI researchers as they reached the staircase, Fox automatically changing position to watch over the scurrying scientists on the lower level. One of them shot back at Ivan, two bolts slamming into his armor. The ceramic plating glowed red from the damage but he was undeterred. Neither was the guard, for that matter. "Going to rip your head off, Cornerian scum!"

"Yob tvoyiu mat, bliad!" Ivan roared; his HPR halting its torrent of fire, emptied of its lethal cartridges. Without any hesitation he dropped the weapon, switching to his bulky sidearm. Most blaster pistols were only capable of single shots. This one wasn't burdened by such a restriction. The weapon chattered, pitching the guard backwards. With military precision Ivan turned the pistol on the other guard and continued firing, the weapon emptying the rest of its magazine into his opponent.

Yuri reached the guards, taking advantage of the lull to slap another magazine into his carbine. Their blaster rifles were kicked away while Ivan reloaded, keeping a sharp eye out for any resistance. "They are down." The designer glanced to the surrounding doors. "One more guard remains, and I doubt he is foolish enough to come out and face us."

Fox was about to offer a suggestion, but was stopped short by a muffled scream and an equally muted thump coming from behind one of the doors. The scientists were cowering behind their workstations, remaining still and well on their way to becoming very useful sources of information to the CDF Intelligence division. "I've got the guys down here under control. They won't be getting out of this one."

"Affirmative, McCloud." Ivan responded, his armor's sensors pinpointing motion in one of the nearby rooms. "Three lifeforms behind that door. Likely hostages, so let's not be too hasty, Yuri?"

"Da, da..." Yuri responded, the healthy amount of sarcasm in his voice clearly apparent as he reached the door. Ivan kept his sidearm at the ready, opting for it over the unwieldy HPR. The pair moved as if they were one unit, Ivan's hand hovering over the door's switch as Yuri prepared to breach. The composite portal hissed open, the scientist diving out of the way as several blaster bolts snapped out at him. Another scream echoed from the now open door, Fox clearly picking up the timbre of a female in severe distress.

Yuri wasted no time. The smaller scientist snapped around the corner, a deadly dance that had been very obviously practiced more times than could be counted. His weapon locked onto the scene before him; a Venomian officer with a blaster in one hand and the other wrapped around the arm of a young Cerinian female. He had been in the process of securing his hostage, but it was too late to change the outcome. The stubby carbine spoke, the officer's uniform doing absolutely nothing to stop the torrent of tungsten projectiles that cored him. "Target down. Securing one, make that two hostages." His gaze snapped to a pair of stasis pods against the far wall; several bright green lights upon its chassis indicating one of the pods was currently occupied.

The researcher stepped forward, offering an armor-clad hand to the Cerinian. She glanced at him uncertainly for a moment before taking it, offering a word of thanks in her native language as he pulled her to her feet. Ivan entered the room behind them, glancing at the blue-furred vulpine. "One is in stasis. The other appears okay, but shaken."

"Okay, great work." Fox replied, keeping an eye on the scientists on the ground floor. They were cowering behind what looked like an examination table in the center of the room. "Let's round these researchers up and get what data we can from their servers. We've got a potential..." Fox paused as he spotted movement. His blaster snapped up as one of the scientists making a desperate rush for a control panel on a nearby support column. "Shit! Seal that door! Now!"

Yuri didn't hesitate. The door hissed shut as the scientist slapped a button on the column. An alarm blared at the same time the hazardous environment warning flashed on the HUD of Fox's armor. The simian stood there, eyeing the vulpine mercenary with a smirk planted on his face. "You cannot win, Cornerian. The Emperor will return, and finally grind your oppressive regime under His heel. Victory belongs to Andross!" The Venomian pulled a small holdout blaster from his belt, but didn't bother to aim it as Fox. Their eyes were still locked onto each other as the scientist placed the emitter against his temple and pulled the trigger.

His colleagues weren't so lucky. Within seconds they started convulsing, groaning with agony as the toxic atmosphere had its way with them. One of them, a slightly built wolfess, managed to stand up, her eyes completely bloodshot. The words she tried to speak died in her throat; blood pouring from her lips as she lost the miniscule amount of control she still had over her body, falling unceremoniously to the floor.

"What's going on, Fox? Respond!" Ivan's voice carried over the channel. "Did the base lose containment?"

"Yes. One of the scientists managed to purge atmosphere before I could stop him. Are the hostages okay?" Fox took a deep breath, trying to keep his eyes over the carnage that lay before him. While he had been through battles both in space and on the ground, this was completely different.

"Yuri managed to get the other Cerinian into the spare stasis pod as a precaution. I doubt this room will hold containment for much longer. I suggest we collect the data from their systems and get out of here. I've already got the _Shrike_on an automated run over here."

"Alright, Ivan." Fox replied. "I'd rather not stay here for any longer than is necessary. Let's get what we came for and leave this dead world."