When Worlds Collide: Part III

Revenge

By: Chris Sponable

P.S. Make sure to read at least first sentence of each tip… they are useful!

Notes: (Basically tips on understanding this) Tip #1: Know what Star Fox 64 is about and what Star Wars is about before reading this.

Tip #2: Read my books in order. If parts 1 & 2 are not on the web page you are at then suggest the author of the Web Page to contact me at CaptCJS@aol.com for the first two parts. The two first parts are called When Worlds Collide: Part’s 1 and 2- Macbeth’s Fall (part 1) and Fallen Heroes (part 2) if that will help you in any web searches with web crawler, etc. If you start to read ANY of this one before #2 AT LEAST you will ruin #2 for you in the future… this part runs so closely with part two it’s like a separate chapter in the same book (same for part 1 only it ends a little less suspenseful- part 2 ends real suspenseful like and you’ll ruin the suspense if you start to read this before)!

Consider deleting- Tip #3: Read my Glossary first- or at least refer to it as new ships and words you do not

know appear... (And you may want to read it after you’re done- gives a bit of insight on how I think the Lylatian Gov.’s work- in my own imagination- and on my own little creations- the UW (United Worlds- "good guys") and UT (United Terrans- Communist- "Bad guys"). Ok… anyway… without further adu I bring you ANOTHER ONE OF MY FAN FICS!

Chapter 1:

Corneria’s loss

"Loosing Fox had been a bad omen- not I nor Corneria yet realized just how bad it was going to get for us though- and the galaxy." Peppy Hare on the recollection of Fox’s death right after the Battle of Corneria.

It had been four minutes since Star and Fox McCloud had gone into Cardiac Arrest. The doctors were losing the battle to save their lives and in one minute they would have to clock a time of death for them. The team, their friends, and Fara Phoenix, Fox’s girlfriend, waited outside looking through the room window at their dying friends. They were holding back tears and Fara had actually started crying and whimpering some as they chanted quietly, "C’mone Fox, C’mone Star," under their breaths.

Then the doctor working on Star got lucky and her heartbeat returned. The doctor, a large gerbil, sighed in relief and patted Star on the head saying, "Good girl." He then ran to his other patient where his assistant had been working. The gerbil asked a question no one heard and the other doctor, a medium sized schnauzer, shook his head sadly, almost crying himself. The gerbil immediately looked like a ton of bricks had hit him. However, he quickly regained his composure and walked outside into the hall, where not only the Star Fox team and their friends were waiting, but also nearly a hundred news reporters from every major news organization from all the worlds in the Cornerian Alliance.

"What is your latest report on Fox McCloud?" one asked. "Was the shaking of your head in there negative? Is Fox McCloud dead?" This was but one voice in many but he only answered Fara’s very gravely serious question- "Is he alive?" He quickly shushed all the reporters and called security to get them "the hell out of here," and also asked, "who let them in!" He then turned to Fara and the team as the last of the reporters’ left except for one, a friend of the head doctor. ‘Corneria has a right to know, too,’ he thought.

He then turned to them gravely and said, "I’m sorry but," he paused turning around to wipe his eyes, "but…" he continued after his composure once again returned. He turned to the camera unable to look into Fara’s eyes. ‘Announcing this to the people will be easier,’ he thought. "Fox McCloud, hero of the Cornerian people, and friend of you all," he said gesturing to the SF team, John, and Fara, "died three minutes ago at exactly 12:37 PM, Cornerian Capital Continent Time." A cry was the heard from every CA (acronym for Cornerian Alliance) household in Lylat. The loudest of these cries came from Fara Phoenix. She began to cry immediately in deep sobs and started screaming at the injustices of the world. I psychiatrist who stood by for counseling took her to his office to comfort her. She lay her head in his arms crying as he escorted her out. She may not have known him but he was something to hold onto (that was not grieving heavily himself) as her world flew apart around her. After she left, Falco talked to the doctor.

"Doctor, there must be some mistake. Fox can’t be dead… he’s a fighter! People like him just don’t die!" Falco said angrily, saying die with contempt… and then as an afterthought he whispered angrily at the world, "or they shouldn’t, anyway."

"I’m sorry Falco but…"

"HE’S NOT DEAD! HE CAN’T BE!" Falco said as he realized he would never see his best friend in the world again. He then started screaming, "OH GOD, NO!!!!!" over and over. After recovering his composure and refusing the aid of another councilor nearby, he calmed himself. "Doctor, let me see him."

"I can’t let you see a dead patient! It’s against hospital poli-" the doctor began. Falco punched and (always being a good slugger) knocked him out. Everyone gasped through their quiet tears. Falco then ran into the room where a doctor solemnly started to zip up Fox into a coldly black bag.

Falco then stopped the doctor, and began CPR and said through soft sobs and breaths into the bodies mouth, "C’mone Fox don’t die on me know! I can’t take it right now! I mean sure…" he breathed into the body’s mouth, then continued, "later in sixty or so years but not now! Not when we’re still young! C’mone Fox wake up! You always were stubborn!" Falco was getting highly delirious and looked as if taking this almost harder than Fara. He went on for another minute about how they still had to go on that hiking trip on the mountains of Katina that they always swore they’d do together. But to no avail. A councilor finally got Falco to stop with Peppy’s help and they went off to a corner with Slippy who was bawling horribly.

Peppy had taken the death the easiest (or so it appeared) probably because of his older age and wisdom. He kept reminding himself that Fox was in a better place looking down on them, laughing at the fuss they (and the rest of Corneria- nearly sixteen thousand vigils were held in the first few hours of his death) were making.

Unusually enough, John took it rather hard. He went to his room crying almost more than he had for Jamanson and whispered to himself that he knew how Falco felt. He cried himself to sleep that night thinking about his dead best friend, Jamanson, and his idol, hero, and recently made friend Fox’s deaths. To say the least this was not shaping up to be a good week… for him or Corneria. He cried even more after Pepper contacted him the next morning…

"WHAT THE HELL DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING YOU FREAKING HOT-SHOT!?" Pepper said to Robertson over the com link. He was in perfect military dress and was as mad as heck. Pepper felt more than guilty for Fox’s death because he had chosen not to stop Fox from going on his death mission. Although the CA had discovered a new enemy and they were able to avert the destruction of their world Pepper was still filing for court-martialing of Robertson and dismantling of Star Fox on claims of "irresponsible behavior leading to the death of these allied nations hero- Fox McCloud."

The Star Fox team would likely be spared and taken out of the generals report before he filed it to his own board at CAMCHQ (Cornerian Alliance Military HeadQuarters- or camcheq as it was pronounced often). Star Fox would be the ones painted as the heroes who had stopped the invasion.

But Robertson was too convenient of a scapegoat for the military and government to pass up. Although the people needed no scapegoat (at least most of them) the government and the military did. In all reality Pepper would have made the perfect scapegoat but the royal House of Lords did not want to lay the blame on the poor Mr. Pepper. In all reality though, if there was someone to blame for Fox’s death and Star’s severe injuries (and possible mental damage- they wouldn’t know until she woke up) it was Pepper’s for not stopping Star Fox in time. The people didn’t know about Star anyway- no one knew Star’s real identity as Fox’s sister except the SF team, Pepper, John, and the doctor that had delivered Fox and Star that had been their doctor for their entire lives, the very doctor they had met- the gerbil. Other than that only a few very big-whigs in government knew about it.

John moaned as he began to think of how depressing his life had become. Holding back an angry scream he said calmly but with a cold fury, "Sir, please watch your tone. You may be leaps ahead of me in rank but according to page 467 of military etiquette, paragraph 3, line 12, a ‘higher ranking officer shall never use profanity against a lower ranking officer as well as vice versa.’"

"Don’t throw the book at me young boy because I can throw an even bigger book back- the laws and stipulations of the Court-Marshalling of an officer of the rank of Captain- and the book of terms of treason! NOW ANSWER THE QUESTION!" he bellowed. ‘TREASON!’ John thought. ‘Boy has he really flipped.’ Then with a gulp he thought, ‘If I’m charged with that…’ he imagined a guillotine… He made another, more audible gulp and continued.

"What we were doing was rescuing two pilots for the Cornerian cause that had originally thought to have been captured by the Venomians but were actually captured by an ‘alien’ race we now know as the Terrans. They are physically identical to the Empire and Alliance humans for some unknown rea-" The general cut him off.

"I didn’t ask for a report on the condition and physical attributes of the Terrans and their governments Robertson! You know damn well that you should have encouraged Fox to turn back to Corneria and not rescue his and your friends! I am fed up with your rebelliousness!" Robertson grimaced not liking being called rebellious. He was never rebellious in his life, even to his parents- nevertheless the military he served under- the CRAF (Cornerian Royal Air Force. Pronounced often as the Seeraf). "And now," the hound continued, "I have lost my patience. Your court marshalling is scheduled for 1800 hours one week from now in the afternoon- we’re even taking away and revoking your Medal of Honor. I’m sure you’ll enjoy that," Pepper ended, sneering contemptuously. John cut the circuit.

John thought for a time and cried for a time. His military career was his life. Without it he had no life at all. He would never fly again. Flying was his one true love in life- he had no other- and never had had any other love. And with Fox and Jamanson dead- his hero and his best friend- he had no vision of a good future- for him or Corneria. He was blamed for Fox’s death and would be hated for it. He had only visions of pain, death and suffering for his people and him. He did not want to live to see that day. He had nothing to live for anymore.

He slowly took out his dagger, which he carried with him at all times for protection and studied it carefully. He thought how ironic it was, since it now served a totally different service than protection. He put it to his throat. Unbeknownst to him someone had just entered the room. Right before the act that would have ended his life was committed a strong hand grabbed his hand and another hand had grabbed the dagger, carefully. He turned around; furious at whoever would not let him make the pains of his life end.

"Who the hell are you!" he screamed. Saying he sounded upset would have been an understatement. He realized it was O’Brien, one of his friends and former teammates before he was court marshaled by the general moments ago. "Why did you stop me!" he screamed. "Let me die already! Don’t make me live my life of torture anymore, O’Brien." (Everyone called O’Brien by his last name. His first name was Carlos and he hated it. Saying he preferred O’Brien would have been an understatement!)

"One, killing yourself now would be selfish. Corneria needs pilots and strategists like you now more than ever because of Fox’s death. Two, I’m your friend- and as you yourself said about me- I’m not gonna lost three friends this week. Three, our religion, you know what happens if you kill yourself," O’Brien said, mentioning and reminding Robertson of his religion, Christianity. Robertson put his head down in shame, realizing he had almost given up on the hardest test in life- life itself.

"I’m sorry, O’Brien. I wasn’t thinking straight. Thank you," he said genuinely to his friend. O’Brien only smiled nervously and took Robertson out for a round of drinks, (one advantage of Robertson’s self made and convincing fake I.D. Authors note to readers: don’t get any ideas! I do not condone this sort of thing and this is one part of many parts of Robertson which is not like me) not knowing of the Court Marshalling yet and not knowing John would need some extra-strong whiskey today.

Chapter 2:

Bar fight

"I’ve never liked bar fights and I never will. But when that brute who later became my friend- well acquaintance- told me I was a traitor… Well, I was drunk and responded more vehemently than I should have…" John Robertson recalling his incident in CRAF Headquarters bar.

"YOU TAKE THAT BACK!" John said drunkenly. He had "accidentally" had a bit too much whiskey. He was no alcoholic but he was depressed right now. The huge and mean looking Canine from the world Canis stood in front of him. His name was Wulfe Litefoot and he was calling John a traitor. He had said he was responsible for Fox’s death. Since Robertson was not thinking straight he had decided he’d take on this muscle pumped behemoth of a mercenary.

"I can’t take back what is true, my friend," Litefoot taunted menacingly. Obviously this brute actually believed that. News traveled quickly, John noted intoxicatingly to himself.

"Take it back…" he hissed, "this is your last chance," John said, hand on knife.

"You may be big for your world but you’d be tiny on Canis!" he said as he charged. John pulled his knife and backed away from the charge, slashing. "Crap!" the large wolf screamed, his stomach bleeding from the strike.

"Your mad! You’ll pay for that, traitor!" Wulfe pulled out a flechette gun- a gun designed to cut it’s victims to pieces with many tiny blades, a very painful way to die and a powerful weapon against infantry and great for assassinations. Those guns were outlawed but he had gotten a hold of one somehow. He fired at John but he jumped onto the bar countertop sliding across pulling out his own gun and firing at Wulfe. Wulfe dodged easily as people around the bar fled and riot control arrived. John and Wulfe were each captured by Cornerian officials and thrown in a jail. Twenty minutes later John and Wulfe were in the same cell- being watched of course.

After nearly an hour of sneering John finally broke the silence- now much more sobered- and more reasonable (fox’s got intoxication out of their systems quickly on Corneria). "So, why do you think I’m a traitor?" he asked. "Do you honestly believe the rhetoric on behalf of the military?"

"Shut your mouth before I bust it," Wulfe said, still mad as ever for the wound John had given him. Wulfe was not the forgiving type and John could tell it would be hard to get him to talk to him.

"Wulfe, grow up. I’m sorry… I didn’t aim the knife to kill you anywa-" suddenly Wulfe lunged at John. Wulfe wrestled John, caught off guard, to the ground. Wulfe quickly began delivering slashes with his dangerous claws. John responded by kicking Wulfe in the crotch. Wulfe howled, got off John, and backed up. He prepared for another attack and John knew that he could not handle another assault. His face was already bloodied from those sharp claws and he was feeling a little weak. Just before Wulfe was going to attack again the guard came by and broke it up. He then proceeded with a stern lecture.

"You two have just been bailed out," the guard said, "but I’m not letting either of you out of here until you apologize to each other. I want to be sure you won’t go off and kill each other the moment I release you. Understood?" John nodded his head. Wulfe on the other hand snarled- John was sure he would have attacked the guard if the guard had not had his hand on his laser pistol.

Four more hours passed as Wulfe contemplated his options… he could rot in this cell or apologize and try to make up. Finally Wulfe gave in not being able to take the guard’s scrutinizing gaze anymore.

"Ok, Robertson, talk…" he said.

"Do you really think I’m a traitor? Why? Do you really believe that military rhetoric about me?" John said obviously having prepared those questions in the four hours he had sat there on the other side of the cell.

"A little," Wulfe said opening up slightly, "but I was also a little drunk when I called you an exact traitor- I may have exaggerated slightly." Litefoot admitted. "Look," he said, "I’m sorry. I was in the bar the same reason you were. Things are getting depressing now and I just blamed it all on you. I--- apologize." John could tell it was hard for him to get out the word "apologize"- he had almost gagged when he said it.

"Thanks," John said, shaking Wulfe’s hand. "I’m sorry for the brawl. I wouldn’t have done that if I hadn’t just been court-marshaled."

"COURT-MARSHALLED!" Wulfe bellowed angrily. "Those SOBs in the admiralty are Court-Marshalling you! Idiots…" he finished, muttering. Apparently Wulfe had either decided to "grow up" as John had suggested earlier.

"Well, thanks for your support but it won’t help me… all that’s left is the ceremony so in theory I’m a ‘blue-suit’ until 1800 hours next week. Sorry that’s 6:00PM ‘civie’ time." John said.

"Hey, I was in the military once too! I can tell ‘milie’ time!" Litefoot said turning around the ‘civie’ nickname. They both smiled, although Wulfe’s smile was somewhat fabricated since he’d never give a real smile to someone whom had attacked him. Suddenly two people walked in. Apparently the guard had called them to pick Wulfe and John up when he saw Wulfe starting to crack. One was a husky-breed canine from Canis and the other was John’s friend, O’Brien. "Well, I guess our bailers have shown up! Nice to meet you Captain, even though our first impression of each other was not exactly good. And good luck for your future," he added, "consider a mercenary career, it worked for me!" They got up, shook hands and went their separate ways. ‘Mercenary!’ John thought. ‘Never will I sink that low!’

John and O’Brien walked silently for a full five minutes down the corridor. O’Brien was a little older than John by 3 months (he had just turned seventeen) and had an annoying tendency of acting like a foster father. That was one thing that had always annoyed John about him. He knew a lecture was coming. "John," ‘here it comes!’, "why on earth did you fight that brute! Are you mad! I mean sure, if he was smaller and less deadly than you I would have cheered you on but knives!" John hung his head- he was a good lecturer still. "You could have killed him and vice-versa!"

"I don’t wanna hear anymore O’Brien! Please! Too much stress!"

"What ‘da ‘ya mean?" O’Brien asked as one word.

"Brian," he said using O’Brien’s similar sounding nickname, "I’m being court-marshaled!"

"What!? Aren’t you allowed to have a hearing?" Carlos O’Brien had been raised on the canine-owned planet of Katina. He was even trained there and was officially a Katinan officer- a foreign officer- but because the CA was so closely knit it did not matter where you were trained for how ‘foreign’ governments treated you or anything else- even uniforms of the service they were currently under were worn. ‘O’Brien is way too used to democracy,’ John thought.

"Don’t think democratic, O’Brien. Think royal courts. Think the human’s King Henry and tyranny. Although my country has grown out of it’s tyranny like the earthers Great Britain did, or so I thought before they used me as a scapegoat, they can still do things fast and quickly without approval and unfairly if necessary. It’s one advantage and disadvantage we have compared to your world."

"Hmmm… Well I think your right. It is kind of an advantage… but… It’s stupid still! You should have a right to speak your ground! You see that’s what my governments based on, free speech!"

"As is ours, or so I thought. But know that to have an immediate ruling like that without the defendant being able to represent himself is very rare. We have to have a 3/4 vote in the House of Commoners and an approval from the King and Queen unanimously to do it!"

"Nice to know your governments behind you, voting to not let you even appear in the ‘secret’ court-marshalling hearing nevertheless informing you of it! My government would never let this happen."

"I’m not so sure…" The two began a heated political argument as they walked out into the fresh air. The argument got John’s mind off of everything that had happened. He was grateful.

Chapter 3:

The Discoveries

"I suppose two discoveries were made in those few days. One by me and one by the Lylatian people." Star on talking to John after all was revealed.

"When I heard my brother had died, I broke apart. I came close to suicide on several occasions but I stopped myself, never being a quitter. He was the LAST of my family- I had nothing left to love." Star recalling her reaction to her brother’s death.

A day had passed since "the fight" and news had traveled around the CA of the court marshalling of John Robertson. There were two sides forming in the battle, one of protest and one of support for the court marshalling. The two sides had picketed peacefully for nearly half a day now across the system. Vigils were still being held for Fox and his funeral was in three days. Per say his Will he would have his remains fired out of a military ship in a torpedo. Normally this would have not been granted since only officers got this option and privilege but Fox was a hero and would be granted this privilege. Pepper would do the honors of ‘sending’ Fox off. But in the meantime Star was recovering from her injuries.

It had turned out she had no brain-damage due to the loss of oxygen to her brain but she did have some motor problems due to it and had developed a lisp and could not yet walk. The doctors said that those side effects of oxygen loss would go away in a matter of days, maybe even just one day- Star always was a fast healer.

Star had just woken up and discovered her lisp. She was horrified of how she sounded and could not wait until it "wore off." Now John stood above her hospital bed, worried about her next question. He knew what it would be and she had woken up at a time in which no one else was there to tell her about Fox.

"Ith Fokths ok?" she asked hopefully. She realized her lisp and tried to say her words slowly. "Because I can’t feel him in my head. That is just another reaction to the oxygen-loss right?" She asked slowly.

"Well, actually, no it’s not," John said nervously. I’m sorry Star, but Fox is"

"DEAD? NO! IT CAN’T BE TRUE! MY BROTHER CAN’T BE DEAD!" she started, "NO! No, god no," she said calming down. She then began to cry worse than even Fara had. John kneeled beside her and tried to comfort her.

"I’m- sorry Star. Remember, these things happen for a reason," he added foolishly.

"Who are you to tell me that!" she said angrily. "Who is anyone to tell me that ‘these things happen for a reason!’ I loosed my mother in a car bombing and everyone said, ‘these things happen for a reason.’ I lost my father later and they told me the same thing! And now I lose my brother, the last of my family, and you dare tell me that knowing I’ve heard it before! Damn-it why does my family have to be such targets! He was the only one I had left. He was the last person I loved in this universe. My brother is dead. Why not take me! Why not have me die instead of him! WHY!" She stopped unable to go any further. She broke down crying. She motioned for John to go away. She needed time to cry, and contemplate. She did this better on her own. John slinked away leaving her with her thoughts.

Star had been in counseling for nearly three days now. She was ok now depending on your definition of ok. If stopping almost constant crying and her physical problems wearing off is your definition of ok then she was fine… At least now she could think rationally and coherently again. Looking back at John’s visit to her she was almost tempted to laugh at herself for being so mad at John when he told her things happen for a reason. He was only trying to help and she had jumped down his throat and tore out his tonsils. They had actually become good friends in the last few days and had cried on each others shoulders quite a bit after John had insisted she stop grieving alone when she had locked herself in her room for the entire first day. They knew each other quite well she thought. ‘Well, he’ll live,’ she thought as she turned to the camera in front of her. She was being interviewed now by a talk show host, feeling that she was now emotionally and physically stable enough (QuickHeal had done a good job on her) to talk to the Lylatian people. The interviewer turned to her.

"Are you ready?" He asked. She nodded. The rest of the Star Fox team had already committed to their support of John and ridicule of the government but she had yet to make an announcement. Even though the people did not yet know of her relationship to Fox (and they would not know if she had anything to do with it) she had been a part of the report made public to the Lylatian people. She was described as "an unknown neutral" who had "saved the lives of all but our hero, Fox" and had "put herself in the line of fire to protect him and miraculously survived." She was now as influential as the Star Fox team being the one who had tried to save the people’s hero. ‘If they only knew my relation to Fox they’d crown me the bloody Queen,’ she thought. The camera started rolling and the reporter, a male Chihuahua, explained who Star was (from what public records had on her) and what she had done.

"Celestria…" he asked using her fake first name, "As I understand it you want to make a statement in support of Mr. Robertson, currently being tried for treason."

"Yes Mr. Silvermen," she said, "I would. I would like to express my distaste of this entire Court-Marshalling- nevertheless the charges of treason. You have all," she said turning to the camera, "heard of the arguments of both sides and I will not rehearse them again as I am sure you are all tired of hearing them. All I have to say is that I find it painfully obvious that John is a scapegoat in this situation and anyone who thinks he is truly guilty of treason or irresponsibility is lying to themselves- and to the people around them. Either that or they’re stupid."

"Two questions, miss," the reporter said, "Are you calling the Royal Couple stupid and accusing them of being liars?" Star answered quickly.

"Actually, yes I must say they are liars to themselves whether they are intentionally lying to the people or not. I am not calling them stupid, however," she said thinking ‘not’ in the back recesses of her mind.

"Ah, I see. One more question before our next… topic" he said pausing. He grinned as he looked at his questions to his "next topic." ‘I wonder what he’s up to,’ Star thought as the reporter thought of the headlines. "You called Robertson by his first name. Does this indicate a relationship between you and the alleged traitor?"

"Lord no!" she responded almost defensively. She actually chuckled while she was saying it and almost spat out a bit of the coffee she was drinking as she chuckled. "I do not deny I am a friend of him however." ‘However new of one,’ she thought as she finished. The reporter nodded in understanding and went on to the next "topic" that he had smiled about.

"Ah," he said, "I believe our next topic will be much more interesting. Are you ready, Star?" he asked using her real first name and grinning at the profit he would make for breaking this story. "That is your real first name, isn’t it Star McCloud," he said grinning broader than she thought possible for his tiny Chihuahua face. Her first reaction was confusion, then a sense of bewilderment of how he had found out, then pure rage. No one saw what was boiling inside of her in the seconds these feelings crossed her mind but her eyes told it all if anyone had happened to notice. She knew that if she kept her cool she might just be able to fend this off. All she had to do was remain calm and deny it.

"I’m afraid I’m not sure what you’re talking about?" she asked innocently. "However may I ask you where you got that information. I would like to- stop- this man’s lying."

"You know those things are confidential Star," he said, purposely using her real name again. She felt as if she would go mad. Her world- the only world she had left- her peaceful solitude, was falling apart around her… ‘Must God take that away from me too!?’ she thought. It was the last thing she had left other than her friends in SF and few other friends scattered out through other places. And she didn’t love them, anyway. She loved her solitude as much as one could love anything not living or in form.

"Well, well, well," Star said, resisting the urge of cutting off the interviewers air supply, "look at the time," she said looking at her chronowatch. "I must be going. I forgot about an important meeting I must attend to. If you’ll excuse me…" Star got up and walked away, leaving the interviewer another 46 minutes of interviewing time left to fill up somehow. Her only regret was that this would not prevent him from making millions off this story. On her way out the reporters (she had to keep reminding herself that they were not vultures) were waiting as usual and asked her questions on her way out about her "avoiding" the interview and if this "meant she was, indeed, Star McCloud." She simply walked through the crowd. Suddenly one reporter, a vulture ironically enough, jumped in front of her hover-car door before she could get in.

"Miss, I think that it is obvious you are avoiding an interview! Are you Star McCloud? Please miss, the people have a right to know. You would be selfish and stupid to not-" That did it. She would not put up with any of this crap any longer. She gripped the vulture’s neck and shoved him against the door of her car. He gasped for breath.

"I will admit only one thing mister and that’s that Fox was a very good friend and I knew him better than he knew himself! Did you know Fox?" she asked. He simply kept gasping. "Did you know Fox!?" she asked pressing her hand tighter around his neck. He gasped out a barely audible "no." She let go of him and he fell, gasping for lost breath and recovering while coiled up on the ground. "Then you have no right to even ask me about Fox and my relationship as a friend with him nevertheless to tell me, who put my life on the line for him and have and am taking much grief from this, that I am being selfish and stupid! NO! It is you who are being selfish, stupid, and ironic you press-vulture paparazzi!" She screamed with more fury than anything that the vulture had ever seen and he cowered in front of her. Several bystanders standing nearby clapped as she got into her car and flew off.

Chapter 4:

Attempted Assassination

"I had taken out the second to last McCloud. I only had one of that cursed family left to kill, and I would stop at nothing to do it." Wolf O’Donnell.

The day had come. General Pepper had declared that this day be an annual day of mourning to honor their hero. The funeral was held in orbit on the Cornerian Flagship, Mercy. The friends of Fox McCloud were on board the Mercy along with nearly a hundred other civilian guests who had gotten there way onto the ship with permission from the military. The funeral was still three hours away however, and Star had one more public statement to make onboard the Mercy about her relationship with Fox. She looked up and almost started crying again thinking about Fox. She held a speech in front of her and was studying to memorize it for her statement in thirty minutes but she could not get her mind off Fox. She somehow felt wrong holding his funeral so early after his death.

Although it was not being held particularly early to most people, to her it seemed impossibly early. She wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Fox yet. ‘Damn, why did you have to leave me Fox!’ she thought angrily. ‘Why am I being punished?! What have I ever done?!’ she thought inquisitively. She sighed; sounding understandably and extremely depressed and miserable. She couldn’t stand this. She could not believe the ruthlessness of the press and (especially) the paparazzi. The ones who believed she was Star knew she had just lost a brother but were still coming at her with a full head of steam with there demands for Press Conferences with her and interviews. She was getting more conferences than the Royal Couple had had about the new threat- the terrans. She believed the Royal Couple was beginning to get jealous of her popularity. She smiled to herself at the thought. ‘I need to start studying this speech,’ she thought looking back down at the pocket computer pad in her hand. She began studying intently again hoping she could memorize this speech quickly as she pushed the thought of everything that had been happening out of her mind.

"Do you have the ID’s and the gun?" a figure in the darkness said with a slight British accent. The other figure across the secured com-link simply nodded. "And has anyone found out about our electronic meetings, miss?"

"No, but you still won’t answer my questions! Who are you and what are you going to do with my Flechette Gun. I just got it sold to me by a young Canine and I do not wish to give up such a- valuable- gun up so soon, even for the high price your willing to pay. I want you to take off that shadow-maker on your face so I can see who you are! Otherwise it’s no deal. If you’re using it against Corneria I won’t sell it to you."

"Well, in that case, you are of no use…" As the shock transmitted itself to the com-pad in the young ladies hand the weapons buyer said tauntingly, "you really should put overload protectors on your com-pad- Especially in such a dangerous business as illegal weapons/ID trading." By the time it took the rookie illegal weapons trader’s mind to assimilate what the buyer on the other end of the line had meant by his statement it was too late. She was quickly electrocuted as her position was traced so the weapons buyer could collect his bounty of weapons and equipment. ‘One Cornerian down, about 10 billion to go!’ he thought cruelly.

A last transport to carry civilians from the surface for Fox’s funeral began the docking sequence with the Mercy. As the clamps latched onto the massive, 2-km long ship the weapons buyer wondered about how he would get onboard if he was discovered as Wolf O’Donnell instead of Cameron McLaffly. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind as he looked at the beautiful ship in front of him. It was an incredible sight of combined beauty, efficiency, and deadliness and as the Cornerian National Anthem played over the "Squawk Box" over head Wolf almost smiled to himself. It was enough to make any soldier with a heart realize the good and bad of the war and join the Cornerians. ‘But I have no heart’, he thought, ‘and even if I have any it is thick as steel and darker than the depths of space itself and is invulnerable to this pitiful display of pride by the Cornerians.’

The ship in front of him was as big as it had sounded, making the 50-meter (.05 kilometer) shuttle look tiny against its polished silver hull. The Mercy had the traditional markings of a Royal Cornerian Air Force: Space Division starship with the beautiful royal blues, light blues, and dark purples that signified its allegiance. The lights crawling along its hull in space dock only highlighted the ship further as they moved across the massive ship’s surface. Wolf was a little intimidated by this show of military might by the Cornerians but he knew that this ship, however deadly looking, was as easily defeatable as the Cornerians other, aptly named, "Flagship" class-vessels. His hair still stood on end as the transports docking clamps latched onto the surface of the enemy ship, however. He stepped off the ship once the docking clamps were sealed.

He breathed in a breath of fresher air and walked to the admittance desk. His disguise was a good one and he was confident that his human friends could reverse the plastic surgery done to him. He now looked like a Canis Wolf instead of a Lylat Wolf and a cybernetic eye had been put where his eye-patch used to be. He arrived at the desk after waiting in line for ten minutes

"Hello Mr.," the armed clerk/sentry said as Wolf showed him his fake ID, "McLaffly. Welcome to the CFS Mercy. What, may I ask, is your purpose here at our great flagship?"

"I am planning to go to see the funeral of Fox McCloud and to attend Celestria’s speech."

"Well, good luck getting to the funeral. It’ll be crowded. Your lucky- you’re the last person we can fit onboard." Everyone behind Wolf groaned having taken the trip for nothing. "Your room is guest quarters #205. It’s on deck five, three doors to the left," he said checking his console to confirm his instructions. Wolf quickly walked by, sighing in relief. He was ten minutes late and Star’s speech would start in 5 minutes.

Suddenly, as Wolf exited the door to the docking bay, a com signal came to the sentry. "Yeah?" he said into his military issue audio wrist-com.

"This is Lt. Beck. Sergeant, we have rumor of an assassin on board! Don’t tell anyone- it’ll cause too much panic- just quietly look for him. According to our sources he got an ID stating his name was Cameron McLaffly."

"Oh, no! Sir the shit’s about to hit the fan. That guy just got by me."

"Then find him! I don’t care how! He’s going to assassinate Celestria! GO NOW!"

The enlisted man quickly started to walk quickly (as to not alert suspicion of something being wrong) and led his men to the conference/auditorium deck of the ship. He could only hope they would be quick enough.

Star walked up to the podium with John and the remaining SF team standing behind her. She had memorized the speech but she was still rusty on it so she hoped she would not mess this up.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she said, "please, please, quiet down and take your seats." She hated sounding so official and curt but she had to. It was the game the press played- rude question in, kind, curt answer out. "Now I would like to get these rumors straight once and for all. I have found who has spread these rumors first of all and can reveal he is a schnauzer with telepathic abilities but nothing else. I would also like to reiterate that these rumors being spread about my relationship with Fox are untrue. I was not his sister and never will be. It is really quite that simple. Now to address the subject of John here-" Star stopped talking as she observed some military men walking toward her fast and steadily in the huge 100 meter long 25 mater wide auditorium. They looked as if they were going about something very important. John noticed this too…

‘Uh oh!’ Wolf thought from his hidden staked out position far away from Star on the 2nd floor of the auditorium’s massive floor. He was hidden in an air vent so no one noticed him. But he noticed them. Five military men were headed for Star, walking fast as they pushed people out of their way in urgency. He needed to work quicker. He quickly put the Flechette Gun up on his shoulder and prepared to fire it in three-shot focus mode as the zooming spectacle focused on his target. He had a good head shot but he decided he would make her death more painful. He targeted her stomach, hoping that she would writhe in misery before she died. By the time he had chosen to shoot her in the stomach the military men were merely 10 meters away from Star and going at a jog now… he began to pull the trigger.

Something was wrong here and John knew that. ‘But what?’ he thought. Then as if someone had showed him exactly where to look on the second floor he saw the gleam of a gun in a vent.

Wolf pulled the trigger as he imagined her being torn apart painfully by the deadly blades he was firing.

"GET DOWN!" John screamed seemingly in slow motion to Star. He jumped in front of her as she stood in shock. The milliseconds in which the Flechette’s headed towards their target and John jumped to Star seemed to last for an entire ten seconds as the Flechettes and John moved as fast as they could to win this deadly race. No matter who won someone was probably going to die. John won the race.

He pushed Star down and out of the way and the Flechettes hit him instead of their intended target. He fell as people screamed, shoulder and chest bleeding horribly. He gasped out the words, "you owe me one," humorously, smiled and then passed out from his injuries.

"MEDICAL TEAM TO AUDITORIUM LEVEL! NOW! COME READY TO TREAT FLECHETTE WOUNDS!" Star screamed loudly into her wrist-com.

Chapter 5:

Funeral and Recovery

"I’m so worried for John. I would never admit that I’m actually attracted to him but I would admit he’s a very good, however new, friend. Losing him now would be too much for me- he’s all I have left!" Star writing in her diary entry after John was shot and before he woke up.

John opened his eyes, feeling a great pain in his chest. "Ugh!" he said in pain. Star, who was sitting next to him holding his hand smiled, seeing he was conscious.

"Doctor!" she screamed into the hallway, "he’s awake!" The doctor ran in excitedly. He looked John over to see that everything was fine and said that it was good he was awake but that he still needed to rest. Star nodded.

"I hate to interrupt you two and I’d leave you alone if I could," John said, having to make quite an effort to speak, "but could I have a few painkillers?" The doctor quickly went to John’s bedside and found no pills on the table next him. The doctor then ran to the empty bed beside him looking for any painkillers. He didn’t find any there either. He then quickly walked to the room across the hall, continuing his search for the missing painkillers. "Talk to me, Star, so I can get the pain outa my mind while he twiddles his thumbs wondering where they are."

"Ok," she said. "I’m really glad your ok. I was worried for a while you wouldn’t come out of unconsciousness. The doctor said that there was a seventy-five percent chance of you going into a coma and if that happened likelihood’s were you…"

"Wouldn’t come out of it," he finished for her. She nodded; a tear coming from her eye hit the floor. "Aw," he said mockingly, "the big bad Star cares for someone still?" She picked up a pillow.

"If you weren’t hurt I’d throw this right in your face, mister!" They laughed; although what John got out sounded so pitiful Star’s smile quickly faded as if reminded of something.

"I’m not in good shape am I?" he asked calmly for a man facing possible death. "And give me the truth. Non of that comforting shit."

"Are you sure?" she asked. John nodded. "Ok, well, the doctor gave me a bunch of medical jargon but I can tell you what happened and what’s wrong just by looking at your charts." She paused for a moment and then continued. "Only one of the three Flechettes hit you." John sighed in relief. "But since they travel at the speed of sound you were pretty badly torn up. The entire left side of your chest is torn to shreds almost. Amazingly, though, that’s only skin deep. Most of your organs there are still working."

"Most?" he asked.

"Well, your left lung was hit dead center and your ribcage and shoulder bones are almost totaled. Like I said, it’s a miracle nothing else was damaged badly, however bad it looks. It may not sound as bad as it is though. Your right lung is barely functioning anymore. If both lungs stop working," she said.

"I’ll die," he finished for her again. Her eyes started brimming with tears. She got up to leave but John ordered her back. She sat down beside him. "It’s ok to cry in front of me right now. I’m at terms with my death. Plus, I may not even die. I heard the doctor mention something about a twenty-percent chance of survival in the background." She nodded as she heard that too. Fox’s of all types had very good ears on Corneria. "It may be small but at least it’s a chance." Star broke down and started crying.

"Why on earth do these things always have to happen. The minute I make a new friend, I lose him. Why!?"

"Star, calm down. We’ve only known each other for a short time and even if we’ve become good friends we still hardly know each other like Peppy and you do," Star cut him off.

"But I feel like we’ve known each other for years!"

"I know. That happens when you cry on another person’s shoulder a lot," he said, smiling. "I suppose you’ll just have to cry on my undamaged shoulder, now though," he said humorously.

"How can you be so calm as to joke about this! If there’s some trick to it, please tell me, cause I’m having some trouble not going plain nuts!"

"You just come to terms with everything happening. Ces’ la’ vie’. What has happened has happened. You need to learn that, Star. I admit I only learned that a few days ago but learning it has helped me to come to terms with everything in the last few days. Too bad I may have learned it to late to make much of a difference," he muttered.

"Don’t talk like that! You’re going to make it out of here fine. I’m sure of it!" John only shook his head as if she was beyond hope. ‘Why can’t she look at life without someone and try to get used to that. That way if someone lives she’ll be even happier and if they die it won’t hit her as hard!’ he thought. The doctor came in with the painkillers.

"About time!" John said. The doctor handed them to him and he quickly swallowed them with a glass of water, using his good arm. Since he was only using one arm to do this it took him too long to get the water while the pills were in his mouth and they left a disgusting taste. "Agck, ever think about flavoring those wretched things, doctor?" The doctor smiled and then looked to the kneeling Star.

"Miss, I believe Mr. McCloud’s funeral is in fifteen minutes. You better get going."

"Oh, shoot!" she said looking up at the clock on the wall. It read 1545 hours. Fifteen minutes before the funeral was to begin. "I’ve got to hurry if I expect to get there in time!" Even using the turbolift systems, which took a person from one end of the ship to another, it would take her some time to navigate her ways through the ship’s corridors to a lift system to the docking bay. The Mercy was built almost like a maze, the designers wrapping corridors around and through ship systems where they would fit. Obviously they were worried more for systems efficiency rather than easy navigation and personnel efficiency when they designed her class of ship. "Don’t die on me while I’m gone, Mr. Robertson," Star said as she stood up.

"Hey, that’s ‘sir’ to you! I’m still superior to you until my court-marshalling is official!"

"In your dreams fly boy," she joked on her way out. Then the doctor kneeled down to give John the "medical jargon" Star was talking about before.

Star arrived within two minutes of the funeral’s start. Pepper, who was standing next to the coffin, gave her a disapproving look at arriving "on the buzzer." She gave him another look back that said, "don’t mess with me" and Pepper quickly averted his glare to someone else he could be mad at.

Just as Star was falling into position beside Pepper with the rest of Fox’s friends, Bill Grey, the SF team, and other friends and acquaintances from the academy and his childhood Pepper started the ceremony by quieting everyone down. He had to personally stop an argument over who was Fox’s better friend between Falco and Bill, it was approaching fist fight levels at Bill saying Falco was responsible for Fox’s death. Star could not believe their pettiness arguing over such a thing. After Pepper averted this disaster he took his position on the mobile podium.

"Ladies and Gentlemen," he started, "we are gathered here today to honor our great friend and hero, Fox McCloud in his passing." Pepper went on going over all the parts of his speech about how Fox was there hero, and a great martyr, etc. After the speech was done the priest walked up to the coffin and gave his blessing. Then Taps started playing as the torpedo rolled slowly on its track forward to the firing tube 20 meters away. Pepper began speaking into the megaphone through the taps, his voice creaky from tears.

"Per say Fox’s will, we will be firing our hero into space and wishing him farewell," Pepper said. "He will always be remembered-" Pepper could continue no longer. His assistant, Col. Ling took over for him.

"As a patriot to our cause and a great man. And so it is that we, the Cornerian people and Fox’s friends gathered here today, fire his body into space to commemorate his passing into the afterlife."

The Colonel turned to his Chief of Arms in cue. With perfect military efficiency, the Chief of Arms yelled, "TEN HUT!" All the soldiers went to perfect attention.

"PREE-SEANT ARMS!" The soldiers put their guns out in front of them. "READY FIRE!" The soldiers put the guns up on their shoulders. "READY! FIRE ONE!" The line of ten soldiers fired in unison, the shots blending into the music of Taps as they always did. "FIRE TWO!" They fired again. "FIRE THREE!" Another ten shots rang out. The bullets again hit the pads above that prevented their ricochet. "Colonel!" he said turning the remaining last act of the ceremony over to his commander as the torpedo arrived and loaded itself into the launcher. It was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

The Colonel heard in his communication earpiece that the torpedo was loaded and aimed for the dead of space. "And with this order we bid Fox farewell!" He turned to Fox’s friends. They nodded that they were ready. "Fire!" he ordered. The torpedo lighted up and exited the docking bay quickly.

"Goodbye, Fox," Star said under her breath, as she cried silently. Bill too, cried silently as did most of Fox’s friends. Peppy merely stood quietly being able to barely hold back tears in the silence following the launch. Slippy could not take it any longer and had to leave for the bathroom so he wouldn’t make a scene of himself crying loudly. Falco, not being nearly as sensitive, cried silently like Star had. No one would be the quite the same for months.

Chapter 6:

"We have an emergency!"

"If I could not kill Star personally I would kill her by blowing up the entire freaking ship! Me with it if necessary!" Wolf O’Donnell in prison cell at Corneria Prison Central.

"Sir, the ceremony’s complete," the 1st officer of the Mercy, a large tiger, said to her captain on the bridge of the massive ship.

"Good, I was beginning to tire of the tight quarters! What of the intruder? Is he caught yet?"

"No sir, but we have identified him. He is a Mr. Wulfe Litefoot. He’s from the planet of Canis, sir."

"Litefoot!? That traitor! Catch him, I don’t care how, Colonel! And tell our search parties to be careful and not to engage him unless they outnumber him three-to-one. Is that clear?"

"Perfectly Brigadier!" she said. "Sir I think it’s about time we made an announcement."

"No! The panic would make it harder to look for him. Now if the Royal Couple had not insisted that I let these civilians on board my ship we could have done that. Plus, it may make the brute panic and take hostages."

"Ok, sir, whatever you say but I think you’re making a mistake."

‘Why do I always have to mess up somehow!’ Wolf thought in anger, pacing in a room he had broken into. The temporary resident was not inside, lucky them, and Wolf was sure he would not be found for at least another twenty minutes. ‘I was this close to killing off that entire wretched family once and for all! But that annoying worm, John Robertson, got in my way.’ He hoped that at least he would die.

And he would for sure, from injuries or explosion, if his plan worked. He had a full map of the Mercy and the codes to the self-destruct system, courtesy of Imperial spies. He knew that there were four places in which you could place a non-voice recognized, irreversible, self-destruct order to the ship. One such place was the bridge. He dared not try it there. Two other places were in special, heavily guarded rooms, but it was the fourth and most secret location that only the Captain of the ship was supposed to know about that Wolf was interested in. It was in the Captain’s personal quarters on deck two. Wolf planned to get in there undetected through the venting system.

He was glad now he had chosen a dual disguise just in case they found out he was not Mr. McLaffly. His second disguise under his first one was that of Wulfe Litefoot since the plastic surgeons had made a special effort to make him look like Wulfe and he had made the special effort of using the same ammo and gun that the real Wulfe had just sold. Now he would not only be taking out three menaces to society, the CFS Mercy, John Robertson, and, most of all, Star McCloud but he would also frame another menace- Litefoot. He had been a trouble to Wolf’s people recently. After the real Litefoot was found after the destruction of the Mercy he would be presumed to have "miraculously survived" and would be charged with mass murder. Wolf would die bravely for his country. He thought of a similar ceremony for him as Fox had just had on Venom. The Room Admittance Bell (RAB) sounded and a military officer said he needed to check the quarters through the door. Wolf quickly picked up his weapons and all evidence of him being there and closed up the air vent in the room behind him just as the officer forced the door open.

"Self-destruct has been activated! All personnel please abandon ship! Repeat, the irreversible self-destruct has been activated," the computer said in its feminine electronic voice on the bridge.

"What the hell! Get me engineering!" the brigadier said. The panel opened and a large oxen appeared on the screen.

"Sir, we have an emergency! It’s telling the truth! The self-destruct has been activated! The fusion cores are building up to critical mass! Time, nine minutes till destruction! The best thing we can do is get us away from space dock so we don’t take the station with us and to evacuate the ship speedily!" his engineer finished.

"Agreed! Marge," he called to his communications officer, "send a message confirming abandon ship! Civilians are first priority along with our dignitaries on board!"

She started to respond but the engineer’s face went white as his computer sent him a message. He began to speak.

"Sir, the docking clamps have bombs on them! If we launch those shuttles they’ll explode and take out the entire freaking shuttle they’re on!"

"SHIT!" the Brigadier screamed loudly. "Of all the miserable, stupid,…" everyone stared at their captain strangely at his outburst. "Sorry. Ok is there any way to get people outside the ship?"

"Only if we put them in a space suit and throw them out the airlock sir! And the quickest suit-up time in emergencies has been ten minutes. We’ve got eight minutes now!"

"Then we’ll just have to break some records! Get moving!"

"Yes sir!"

John heard the alarms going off about him. He saw people running in the hallways in panic screaming that they were all going to die. He couldn’t believe that Star’s assassin would go as far as destroying an entire ship of innocent people just to destroy one target. ‘Talk about overkill,’ he thought.

He then had an idea. No self-destruct was completely irreversible no matter what the experts said. He remembered he had once unwired a self-destruct for his fighter in the academy when he had accidentally pushed the wrong button. He was able to unwire that self-destruct in less than thirty seconds so for a larger ship maybe seven minutes would do! ‘It’s a long shot but it may just work!’ he thought.

As John got out of bed and into a nearby wheelchair, groaning in extreme pain along the way and ripping of his life-sign monitors, a doctor noticed. He plopped down into the wheelchair.

"Hey, you’re supposed to be resting!"

"I know- get me to a master computer terminal."

"I can’t do that."

"Do it now, doctor, I can disable the self-destruct! NOW! That is a direct order from your superior!" John said looking at the medical officers 1st Lt. Badges. The doctor muttered something about John having too many painkillers and being delusional but followed his order.

John told the doctor to rip open the panel for him. The doctor reluctantly obeyed. ‘Ah, I remember this from my fighter, much more complex but still similar. Now if I can only remember how I got the computer to think I wasn’t toying with the self-destruct detonation system so it wouldn’t blow me out of the sky before the timer ran out. Hmmm…’ He toyed with the yellow wire in the tangle and something beeped an angry warning. He quickly pulled his hand back hoping that the ship would not blow up in the next two seconds. It didn’t. ‘Whew!’ he thought.

He then remembered how he had done it. He had toyed not with the self-destruct device core itself or with the Fusion core in his ship but had disabled main power quickly. This would shut down life-support though and all other systems so the docking bays would have to be sealed with metal doors to keep pressure. A rescue ship would arrive in time before their air ran out.

The only problem with his plan was that the minute you took out the power the ship was programmed to self-destruct immediately with charges set throughout the ship that had their own computers. Since a virus was in the computer system (planted by Wolf to interfere with evacuation by airlock attempts) he could only hope that it had infested the smaller computers in the charges too- since they had to have some connection with the central CPU to detect a power outage. The only reason John had survived in his fighter incident in the short training course for enlisted men was because trainer craft had no backup detonation system like a true ship of war did.

He moved quickly through the wires on the board and found the right bundle. He quickly and all at once removed them. The ship made a strange sound as power went out and the emergency sealing doors in the docking bays closed to prevent air and air pressure from escaping. The ship then went ominously quiet as everyone stood in shock.

Chapter 7:

Hunting the Wulfe…or is it the Wolf?

"After I found out Wolf was the one who had killed Fox, tried to kill me, and almost killed John and hundreds of civilians, I would stop at NOTHING to find that son of a bitch!" Star McCloud.

"All right people," Star said in the darkness to her bodyguards as she recovered from her shock, "let’s find out who’s been doing this." Star spoke into her comm-wristband.

"McCloud to Brigadier Carson, have you found out who’s the saboteur?"

"Yes… a Wulfe Litefoot…"

"THAT S.O.B!" Star said, bewildered. "Man I never thought he would stoop that low for money."

"Well they say he’s got a steel heart, if any," the Brigadier Carson said.

"But still…" Star said, staring off in shock.

"That’s beside the point" the brigadier said, nervously. "With power out that bastard can travel anywhere through the air ducts and we can’t flush the air out of them to get him out of the ducts without power. Plus in the darkness he could snipe you or me like a bug on a windshield. He’s quite a sniper and he’s experienced as hell!" Carson said.

"I know… I had the arguable pleasure of serving with him once. The only thing bad about him is he’s a pervert and that’s all I’ll say on that." The Brigadier raised an eyebrow. "Long story," Star said. "Anyway I don’t think he can be the saboteur sir! He’d never stoop to serving that scum."

"Well I can argue this with you forever. Look just let me tell you this. He looks like Litefoot no matter who he is. Now I want you to stay where you are and have your bodyguards form a shield around you."

"No way!" Star said, walking towards the vent. "If Wulfe is the one who tried this stunt and killed Fox then I want a piece ‘a him!"

"Now Star when you find him don’t hurt him! I won’t allow it! You hear me St…!" Star threw the comm-wristband off and went into the vent, telling her guards to stay back.

‘WHY WHY CAN I NEVER WIN!’ Wolf thought inside the air vent. He began bashing his head against the vent but stopped, realizing he was being foolish. He could still kill Star. Easily too because if he knew her she would come to him…

Star crawled along the vent’s cold metal as she practiced how’d she cuss out Wulfe when she found him.

Suddenly she heard a crack ahead, as if someone had torn of a vent and jumped into a room. She quickly crawled ahead until she came upon an open vent. In anger, and not thinking, she jumped down from the vent sloppily and noisily.

As she flew to the ground she felt a sharp pain in her back as three plumes of red appeared on the back of her civilian clothing. She fell with a loud thud, not landing on her feet.

"Oh god," Star said, looking up. "It was you," she gasped not being able to breathe easily, "wasn’t it Wulfe?"

"Depends on which Wulfe your speaking of," he said as he ripped of his life-like mask. Behind it was the leader of the Star Wolf mercenary squadron, Wolf O’Donnel.

"I knew it!" Star gasped. "It was you," she said, almost passing out from loss of blood.

"Yes it was," Wolf said grinning. "I was the one who killed your father by capturing him, your brother," he paused, "and now you." Wolf raised his blaster to Star’s head. Star closed her eyes tight as a blast was heard.

John Robertson stood in the doorway, hand over chest, holding a smoking gun.

"Is Celestria ok?" John asked using her fake name, laying in the hospital bed next to her inside Corneria’s Main Hospital Facility #1 (MHF1). The nurse checking Star’s bandages on her back nodded.

"She should be conscious soon," the nurse said. "She’s lucky she made it though," the nurse, a petite doe said. "If those three shots had hit near her heart it could have thrust a rib into her heart because of her earlier injuries."

"Well St… Celestria has always been lucky," John said.

"Is she really a McCloud, John," the nurse asked, curious.

"I can’t answer that," John said. The nurse sighed and went into the hallway to talk to Falco, who had just walked in with the remaining portions of the Star Fox unit and Rita LaShette, an old friend of John’s and a sister of sorts to Fox.

"Is this Fox?" Rita asked, pointing to Star who looked very much like Fox (especially face-down). Rita had been out-system for a time to do some "favors" for some friends and had not heard of Fox’s death yet.

"Rita," Peppy said, "I’m sorry!" he said, breaking out in tears.

"What is it?" Rita asked. She walked up to John, fearing what he would say, but denying that he’d say it still.

"He’s dead, Rita," John said silently in his hospital bed.

"Oh," Rita said, eerily calm, and turned to leave.

"Rita," Falco said stopping her at the doorway, "you need to talk?"

"No, I’ll be just fine thank you," Rita said, stomping out. Falco regreted not delaying the funeral for Rita’s arrival (one reason she may be upset) but he had had no choice. When he couldn’t contact Rita the public started pushing hard for a funeral, immediately. Things were approaching riot-level when a time was finally set. Apparently, the people, in their infinite wisdom, had thought their needs more important than a young friend (girlfriend’s?) of Fox.

Star quietly got out of bed and sneaked out of the hospital. She avoided the reporters through the vents, and made her way to the prison hold of the medical facility.

Star dropped through the vent, (once again QuickHeal was a miracle-worker) and found a particular cell in the complex. No guard saw her for her infiltrationg was nothing short of perfect.

She opened the door of the prison cell, only to find Rita Lashette, and Fara Phoenix inside, bashing the crap out of a bloody Wolf O’Donnel. The two turned to Star, and saluted crisply at her presence.

"Umm… we were just, umm… extracting information from Wolf here," Fara said, thinking Star would keep professional with Wolf and not want him beat.

"Can I join you in your information search?" Star said, smiley wickedly for the first time in her life probably. Rita and Fara nodded.

The guard that checked on Wolf in the morning after Rita, Fara, and Star were gone, puked in Wolf’s food from the sight of his gnarled body. Wolf merely rocked back and forth, repeating to himself, "I’ll never do it again," over and over like a mental patient.

Chapter 8:

Court-Marshalling

"I can’t believe those bastards are still court-marshalling him after all he’s saved and done for us!" Star McCloud after finding out the CRAF was going to continue the Court-Marshalling of John Robertson

John Robertson walked down the isle, head held high. Several days had passed since he had saved the Mercy and everyone on board. QuickHeal had set in rather well but he had to walk slowly as to not antagonize his remaining working lung. Even normal marching could wear him out. He couldn’t wait until his remaining lung repaired itself and he got that artificial lung the Rebel Alliance had assured they would get for him. But until then he would have to take it easy.

He was at his Court-Marshalling ceremony. In five minutes he would no longer be an officer. He was receiving one of the militaries infamous "Dishonorable Discharges."

He still couldn’t believe after saving seventeen hundred officers and enlisted personnel and nearly six hundred civilians that were on the Mercy when the self-destruct was set that they were still court-marshalling him. Some radical rebel movements on Corneria were inclined to almost strike against the Royal House of Corneria. However, their "hero," (as much as he disliked being called that by that scum) had convinced them not to. That too was another reason he- or anyone else- couldn’t believe the military was following through with this. Many lives could have been lost in an open rebellion. The words life isn’t fair had come to John’s mind quite often in the last few days.

John had lost ninety percent of his respect for the military and his country. However he still considered his oath to his country valid even after the court marshalling and he would not break his oath of allegiance under any circumstances. Plus the people of Corneria were still good hearted- even if the bureaucrats were not.

And so John was now walking down this isle, with his friends from Talon Team beside him. He had asked when they had come to the ceremony to walk beside him why they were doing that. It wasn’t traditional for friends to walk beside someone being officially dishonored. He would soon find out.

He arrived at the end of the red carpet and was now before General Pepper. He looked down at him with eyes that looked to contain Hell’s fury itself. John almost quivered. Even though he had been acquitted of treason charges he still was not sure if the general was mentally sane and he was expecting the general to pull out a blaster at any moment. He did not. Apparently he still had some sanity about him.

"Captain John Robertson," the general said, "do you understand the charges that were proven against you and the consequences of those charges." John nodded. "In that case you know that irresponsibility in combat leading to the death of a civilian is charged with only one punishment. You are here to be dishonorably discharged from the Cornerian Royal Air Force." He turned to his junior officer standing next to him. He was a 2nd Lt. straight from the academy. That was part of the dishonor- to have such a junior officer pull off his medals, badges, and rank-pins. "Lt., you have the honors."

The Lieutenant marched up to John. He began the process. He tore, not took off but tore his tour of duty badges off one by one. John grimaced as each one was torn off. Each one had represented a good month of hard work for his country in combat. With each tear of the badges it felt as if they were tearing them from his skin, not just his uniform. As the last one, his Team Commander Badge, was taken off he almost groaned. He stopped himself though, knowing full well the general would grin at his misery.

The Lieutenant then tore off his rank pins- the two beautiful silver rank pins of a captain in the CRAF. He tore off the first one slowly in the manner one would if torturing someone mentally. Then, as he tore off the second one, he "accidentally" stepped on John’s foot, smashing the now open pin that held the rank symbol in place into John’s injured shoulder. John almost howled but let out only a small, barely audible, whimper. The general gave the lieutenant a look that told him he was going a bit too far.

The general had chosen a lieutenant that especially hated John. He was glad. John was doing a good job at hiding his pain but the general had known him too long not to know when he was acting and when he wasn’t. He was certainly acting. He grinned as the last and certainly most painful act for John commenced.

The young lieutenant tore off John’s Medal of Honor. John almost screamed, "No!" but his friend, O’Brien, quickly put his hand on his uninjured shoulder and squeezed, as if saying "it’s almost over." He kept quiet. The officer then tore off John’s name patch.

"Captain John Miles Robertson, from this point forward you will be known as Civilian John Miles Robertson and will have no more military privileges. The Cornerian Alliance hereby dishonorably discharges you for irresponsibility leading to the death of a civilian and VIP. Now leave before your stench overcomes us," the general added. That last line was a personal touch the general had added to this particular ceremony. He was hoping John would go ballistic. He did not.

John began to walk out but O’Brien told him to wait. The general looked appalled at this breach of protocol.

"Sir," O’Brien began, "me and the rest of the members of Talon Team, are resigning our positions from this dishonorable military. We can no longer stand your stench."

"Brian, no," John hissed. He didn’t want his friends ruining their lives for him.

"Stay out of it, Robertson!" the general said. Then he turned to John’s friends. "Please go, gentlemen. It would be nice not having five more troublemakers in our midsts. I suppose it would be like killing six birds with one stone. How efficient…" John tried to speak again but an officer nearby put his hand on his blaster. This was certainly not the military he had signed up to serve for three years ago.

And so it was that John Robertson, Carlos O’Brien, Mary Conner, Cindy Carson, Marco Martinez, and Chris Mackenzie walked out of the Royal Cornerian Court House with their heads held high, and with nearly six billion Cornerians clapping at the bravery of John and his friends.

Chapter 9:

A New Team

"Me, a scum-flyer!? No way! No way in hell! I’m not stooping that low even to fly again!" John Robertson’s initial reaction to being asked to join the new mercenary team, Avenger Squadron.

John still could not believe it. Had O’Brien actually thought he would want to be a mercenary? If so then he didn’t know John very well.

Three days earlier, right after the dishonorable discharge, O’Brien had come up to John asking if he’d "consider to consider" joining a new mercenary team. John’s initial reaction had been rage at his friend for even asking. They had had a fight, not just between him and O’Brien, but between him and his entire old team. Chris, a large bobcat, had insisted he join the mercenary squad so much that John was tempted to punch him at the height of the argument. Of course, Cindy, a raccoon, (always being the peacekeeper of the team as well as their computer specialist) had tried to stop the argument from escalating by physically getting between John and Chris. Mary, a white cat who always maintained a cool head and used complete logic to solve almost every puzzle, began to talk sense into John’s mind. But it was Marco’s advice that finally had convinced him to join this new team, however reluctantly.

Marco was nearly twenty-five, being the oldest in the team of young "hot-shots." He told John what the others had, about avenging Fox’s death and being able to fly in combat again. But Marco had brought up the strategy and ship commanding aspect of being a mercenary. John had always loved strategy possibly more than even piloting. He had also been in a few starship command simulations when he was younger and had liked them much. The reminder of losing those two dreams of strategic and starship command as well as flying overwhelmed John. He had to join this new team.

The new team would be known as Avenger Squadron- it would be a merging of the Star Fox Team and old Talon Team. It would be made up of Corneria’s finest mercenaries. Wulfe Litefoot- now acquitted of treason since Wolf’s capture- was even rumored to have wanted to join the team but had other matters to attend to. Avenger Squadron’s purpose was a noble one: to avenge Fox McCloud’s death. Their main target- once all of the modifications to the Great Fox were made- would be this new terran threat.

The modifications to the Great Fox would be extensive since the team had more money due to its extra members. Star- the owner of Great Fox since Fox’s death- had insisted they not spend what life savings the former members of Talon Team had to upgrade her ship. But the Talons had insisted and had actually gone behind Star’s back to upgrade the massive ship. The Great Fox would still retain its shape and design but would be nearly twice as large with nearly sixty more retractable laser cannons and four fixed medium capital ship lasers instead of just two.

Star had eagerly joined the team knowing it was time to reassert herself into society- plus the Great Fox was now her ship- and she being protective of any ships owned by her felt an obligation to protect it. With Fox gone she needed to "replace" him, for lack of a better phrase, anyway. The team would need time to mourn Fox’s death but they had plenty of time to do that, with the upgrade of the Great Fox from a Dreadnought size vessel to a Super-Dreadnought size vessel it would be nearly six months before the project was complete.

And so it was that a new team was forged- one of valiance, honor, revenge, and fairness. A new team that would be Corneria’s last, best hope for the survival…

To be continued…

If you’re upset about Fox’s death and won’t read more because of it read this! Otherwise don’t…

I know many of you who are reading this are upset about Fox’s death in my story. Well I will tell you there is a twist later on so keep reading… (it’s not coming in the next book but in the book after that… be patient)

Ok, now everyone read this…

Ok, unlike last time I will simply go over my (and others) copyrights and ownership’s of characters one by one:

Talon Team and all members there within are my characters and must be asked to be used in any stories. Contact me at CaptCJS@aol.com if you wish to use any of them.

Wulfe Litefoot and the planet Canis are copyright by Cyberwulfe.

Star McCloud was created by Kay Starr and you must ask her permission before using her.

"And so it is that I go into the breach, knowing I have served, and led my country, whether it shall live or die. I have led my people to the best of my ability and now bid them a permanent farewell. I am comforted in knowing some of us will escape the non-coporeal life attack by my efforts even though it cost me my world to be the first to fall," John Robertson, Admiral, Home Fleet, 2564 (he's 40 now)