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Prologue

LOCATION: Macbeth Missle Launch Silo

DATE: Sometime in the Final Month of Corneria's War Against Andross

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He slipped quietly into the silo. The lizard nodded his final acknowledgement before falling to a silent laser blast.

He had infiltrated. How long he could keep this a secret was unknown. Best to get to work, then. The sleek ferret dodged into the shadow of a workroom and waited for a high security patrol to pass. Pleased, he shot all three at the bases of their skulls and firsked the officer's corpse for some form of a key. Naturally, there it was - you think they'd learn, he mused - and he was soon into the inner sanctum, the lion's den.

Here was the first dark grey missle, arcing to the roof of the silo almost a half mile up - protected from naval attacks by a planet's crust. Ingenious, but not impenetrable, as he had proven. This was a Subjugator Class Cruise Missle, Andross's last hope. This one would eliminate Corneria's defenses, and its companion in an adjacent bay would clean up what remained.

If he let it.

Six pulse charges on the missle's second stage would 'disarm' it after it left Macbeth's atmosphere, but hell, why bother? If his suspicions were correct, the fusion coupling was in the control center between the oversized parking garages, and just one charge there would cause enough collateral to blow both missles and suprise the hell out of the emperor's failing war machine.

It was worth the risk.

---

Haplessly enslaved scientists worked diligently under a single lizards' supervision (and rifle), preparing the twin terrors for their first, and last, launch. He entered - and there was soon no lizard alive in the room. He removed an explosive, crossed to the coupling and addressed the bewildered technicians.

"I'd get the hell outta here, fellas. This place is going up quick."

"How long do we have?" Asked one.

He clicked the final button on the bomb. "I'd say six and one half of a minute. Hope you can run fast."

One scientist turned to him at the door.

"You a spy?"

He smirked. "Spies work for the enemy. I'm an agent, and I'd get going if you want a good view of the fireworks, albiet not part of the display."

He issued a final warning as klaxons sprang to life. "Touching the coupling device sets off the alarm system!"

Damn! Of course he knew that. But what good was it anyway? Bombs were bombs, and nobody could disarm it now.

Lizards appeared at each of the entrances. Their relief forces were puny - two on the side doors, and a good half dozen right in front of him. He dropped his pistol as a high-ranking officer approached. The ape obviously knew nothing of Cornerian agents...

The officer placed his weapon on the ferret's temple, waiting.

"You'll die trying to stop our emperor. He shall rise from this setback, and you will be forgotten in... ack!"

With a sweeping kick the ape was down. Six seconds later the lizards opened fire. When the smoke cleared they saw a single body - that of their officer.

---

The vent slid aside and he tasted the sweet Macbeth air, sweeter still with smog and pollution than anything he had ever inhaled before. He ran like mad.

Two billowing jets of flame rose from two equally well hidden silo tubes. The explosions could be seen from orbit - unfortunately, the one responsible did not get there quite in time to witness that sight, but he saw it from a safe enough distance.

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Nakar Gabab Presents

A FanFic Production

Starring Dar Mansfield

Also Featuring:

Fox McCloud and The Starfox Team

Carlos Mitchum

The M.O.C.T.S. Board

Sattler and Raimes

Frank Wutherfords III and IV

Marion

Ellen Hargreaves

Cornerian President Andrew Harrels

And Introducing

Doctor Phillip Hartford

In Nakar Gabab's

The Other War

When I look around the world,

I see the things the eye can't catch

Shifting shadows, brief delusions

all mere optical illusions

So they say...

We fight on two fronts now

where once but one existed

There are those who fight unlike before,

and those who fight the other war

Another world, another war

two battles, two heroes

End and beginning will someday be one

and we will pull the shroud from those who fight

The Other War...

"The Other War" Performed by Arvis Wyndham

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LOCATION: Corneria City

DATE: Two Years Later

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Andross's defeat at the hands of Fox McCloud and the Starfox team had been lauded for too long, especially for Dar Mansfield. When he attended parties he heard mention of those accursed names too often. Have you heard about Fox and his team? Of course he had. Wasn't Fox the bravest hero Corneria had?

He just smiled and nodded, as though he couldn't care less. There were wars fought on two fronts - the PR wars, fought for the media with flashy but ineffective starfighters, and there was the other war - the true war - being fought by single souls deep in enemy territory. But why bother explaining that? He was an academy failure who had no job now that wartime production factories had closed. He was living off taxes and blowing it on beer, women and social events.

This was partially true. He did recieve tax money - straight from the budget, in fact. He did spend more time enjoying his life now that the war was over, but so did everyone. He'd certainly not wanted to leave the academy - he had a great shot at becoming a pilot. But he wasn't unemployed.

He was a Cornerian Agent, Special Forces, the better of the best of the best. Had his work been publicized he would be the hero. Convoy strike? He'd been sabotaging the rails. Base recovery? He was the one to reactivate the systems. He'd done it all covertly, and the navy - the PR forces - had taken the credit. The laymen of the civilian pool couldn't tell an arwing's meager payload outlet to seventeen pounds of lovingly placed explosive charges, and never would. But this was, in a way, better. He went to every social function, whether they wanted him or not. Tonight, Dar noted, is a military ball. Everyone who was anyone would be there, and though he had no invitation, he knew that everyone couldn't be there without him.

---

Fox had had a time of it convincing Fara to actually come to the gala together rather than in separate hovercars. She'd finally agreed, and now he saw why.

They were perfect photo bait. Fox had worn a smart black tuxedo, and Fara arrived in a similarly colored dress that accented her features. Half an hour after leaving the car, they were at last in the ballroom. General Pepper collared Fox as he wandered uneasily about the hall.

"You look bad, McCloud. Where's Miss Phoenix, anyway?"

He shrugged. "Too many flashes out there. Gotta get shots for tomorrow's holos, you know."

The general rolled his eyes, recalling his earlier entrance with Mrs. Pepper an hour before. "Tell me about it. If one person gets into this party without a snapshot being taken, I'll give up my command!"

The waters rippled slightly on the seashore. The balcony where Fara stood jutted past it, into the waters, where not far out the coast guard was blockading the point of entry to the small bay the party overlooked.

Slowly her eyes fixed on an unnerving presence, something coming closer. It was not a boat, but rather - a swimmer! Fara gasped, even giggled slightly, when it vaulted the balcony in its airtight diving suit. She jokingly pointed a finger at it.

"Come for pictures?"

He lifted the breathing mask. A handsome ferret gazed sarcastically back.

"Lost my invitation out there," he pointed to the waters, "so I thought, 'Ah, let's just go to the party and forget it.'"

She laughed aloud. "The dress requirement for men is formal tuxedos. You'd never get past the doors."

He unzipped the suit and stepped out in his sharp white tuxedo. She laughed yet again.

"Well now, can't say you didn't get an invitation. Certainly looks like you were on the way over here!" She extended her hand and he kissed it slightly. She blushed.

"Darvis Mansfield, with Logistics." He lied.

Under most circumstances Fara would have seen through this lie, but Dar's charm was quite enough to impair her senses, and the sherry hadn't helped either.

"Fara Phoenix. I'm a pilot. I didn't know they invited Logistics people to these things."

"We work very hard, you'd never believe what we go through. Get this here, send these personnel there, hold out you marines, we'll evacuate in time, and so on." His knowledge of these matters convinced her that his facade did not really exist. And her introduction was his key into the event. But he had to cement his entry.

"Oh, and I only got invited because of who I know. I'm related to the big man's staff head."

She chuckled. "President Harrels? Wow! Hang on... Falco!" Falco, uncomfortable in formal wear, walked onto the terrace. He noted Fara's new companion with litte recognition.

"This is Dar Mansfield, from Logistics. He was lucky to get invited, but he's certainly got the charm of a socialite."

Dar knew how to win trust. "Mr. Lombardi? Quite an honor. From what I've heard, your reflexes and skills surpass Fox's. You ought to consider replacing him. Though the team would need a new name..."

The bird smiled, full of cockiness and overconfidence. "Naturally, I've always known that Logistics is the heart of any army."

Dar smiled, for he didn't care. Logistics was as familiar to him as what went on in civilians homes - civilians with no secrets to hide - or hide from. He would play the game, however.

"This patio is lonely. Miss Fara, Mister Lombardi, what say we go inside and mix with those not graced by our presence?"

They agreed. One more successful infiltration for Corneria's finest.

Peppy stopped his dancing briefly to point out Dar and Fara on the floor to fox.

"Pretty slick guy, eh? Dancing with another man's date!"

Fox shook his head. "As long as he doesn't date her too I'm all for it. We only came together, maybe leave together, that's all."

The old hare chuckled. "This is why you aren't married. Who is that guy, anyway?"

Fox laughed. "No way to tell offhand. Just one of the guys behind the scenes."

Nothing could have been more true.

Dar and Fara danced to the clever beat of Holt Wilkinson and the No Returns, a cheery postwar band with the optimism and talent to sweep a system now at peace. Dar had it all, Fara reasoned - looks, charm, wit, modesty and skill. But what did he do in Logistics?

He danced well, obviously having practiced. Whatever he did must not have been in demand then.

That also was quite true.

The party began to wind down and Dar wanted to invite Fara home. But he knew his moves well - and he approached both Fox and Fara.

"I've had a wonderful time, really. But no one really got much to eat. I can smuggle you two over to my place for a simple dinner. I'd really like to talk, jar your memory, Fox. C'mon."

They nodded. Who better to sneak them out than a member of Logistics?

A spy, of course.

---

Dar's apartment was in an odd location - a penthouse above a banking building. He switched the main lights on as they entered, bathing the spacious living area with light. Fox and Fara saw odd things - little magnetic blocks, radars, positioning systems and explosive diffusers - and wondered why anyone would bother to keep things that could never be used. Oddly, they all looked well worn. Dar hung his coat in the entry closet, and as he did they noticed his gun strap. He cautiously hung it, along with the ZB-11 Automatic Plasma Pistol, on a hook near his bedroom door. he offered them a seat, a few beers, and an explanation.

"Fara saw me come in - and not in the usual fashion, either, mind you."

"He swam in," she noted, "with his tuxedo under the wetsuit." Fox laughed.

"Wait... Dar? As in Dar Mansfield, B+ Academy Failure?"

Dar laughed along. "Hard to fail with a B, isn't it? Well, really, I left."

Fox was confused. "You dropped out?"

"Actually, I think the term is 'tapped out'. My planet needed me. I seem to just disappear at times and, well, I suppose you can see why."

"You aren't Logistics," Fara said, smiling, "you're with Military Intelligence!"

He raised his paw. "Close, but wrong. Special Force's own Special Forces Intelligence. I report straight to the President."

Fox was impressed but suspicious. "Where's the proof?"

Mansfield grinned, fanning and ID card which read "Mansfield, Darvis G.Q. - ISOHHP - SpecForce Intelligence." Fox scanned it, noting its authentic seal from the President himself.

"ISOHHP?"

"In the Service Of His/Her Honor the President. Simple term we agents use. If you meet us, that's our sort of 'code phrase'."

"We?" Fara asked.

"If I said much more of it I could have you two made political prisoners. Of course, I could just kill you, which is preferred. Look at this..." He flashed a large, folding card set. Fara read.

"This Agent, D.G.Q. Mansfield, may break any and all laws and violate the Constitutional rights of others, overridden only by direct orders from the President. These include such capital offenses as First Degree Murder, Manslaughter both Voluntary and Involuntary, Rape, Public Panic, Inciting of Riots, and so forth, as well as felonies including but not limited to Laundering and Soliciting, Assault, Breaking and Entering, Theft and Burglary..."

"Et cetera, et cetera." Dar finished replacing it in his wallet. "I'm sorry to have lied, but I've always wanted to catch up, which for security purposes I couldn't do up to two years ago."

Fox should've been angry, but he wasn't able to find it, in part because Dar was an old friend, and also because Dar could kill him and it would easily be overlooked. The joys of SpecForce...

He yawned. "I've got to get home. Fara?"

She stood. "Sure. Shall we meet again, Darvis?"

He grinned insanely. "I think I'll come see you guys... in the base."

Fox burst into a fit of laughter. "Whaaah!? You, in the base? If you can get through the three mile gates I'd be impressed. Good luck, Dar. I've got the funniest feeling that we'll see each other sooner than I expect."

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LOCATION: The C. Mitchum building in Downtown Corneria City

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Mitchum Incorporated was an independent contractor that manufactured shuttles for the Cornerian Army. It also ran several illicit businesses right under the government's nose. Drug dealing, assassinations and extortion - all livelihoods for the company - and all paled in comparison to Mitchum's Organized Crime and Terrorism Syndicate - also known as M.O.C.T.S., at least to the few who knew it existed.

Once again the chief members of M.O.C.T.S. met to discuss the usual trifles - blackmail, industrial espionage and product theft - as well as their grand new scheme.

This plot was brought into consideration by the Chairman, Carlos Mitchum, founder of the company by the same name. The other four members were Merle Johannes, a shipping magnate based on Papetoon, Professor Robert Matins, of the Cornerian Institute of Technology, Hubrent Grant, a politician who had helped in the appointment of many high-ranking officials, and Tim Custer, owner of every major restaurant franchise in Corneria City. These five would never be suspected of any wrongdoings, especially not together, and that was why they enjoyed their meetings so much. It was a game they were easily winning, and almost always would win, as long as the eyes of Corneria's finest were on the useless ruins of Venom.

"My thanks again, Merle," Tim, an elk, commented. The ocelot he addressed chuckled.

"Of course. I somehow managed to convince you we should never have openly support Andross, didn't I?"

The Professor, a tall mongoose, pushed his glasses up further on his snout and thought for a moment. "Right, as usual. I still cannot see why you called this meeting so late at night, Carlos, get to the point!"

Carlos grinned. "I called us here because I'm fed up with this. Two years of sick peace! No insurrection, no corruption, anything worth doing... at least not until now."

KARIM, Mitchum's automated recording cyborg, grinned. The android ran illegal businesses with the savvy no emotional, flawed organic being could. "We're listening, Carl. Go on."

Mitchum queued a hologram of a large missle. "Two years ago Androssian slave scientists developed the Subjugator Missle, as you see here. Two could set Corneria back to the dark ages. Three could obliterate all life on this planet!"

"Great god!" Hubrent exclaimed. "With that kind of firepower it's a wonder the ape lost."

"Apes lose," Merle giggled, "more often than not. Think they're the highest among us. But it was obviously not fired, this missle, eh Carlos?"

The business leader nodded. "Two explosions rocked Macbeth several weeks prior to Andross's fall. I check my industrial war connections and confirmed what I suspected. That was the two missles. Several survivors, all scientists. Most fled the site and remained anonymous... but one has come out of hiding and is willing to help us..."

The elevator door to the 198'th floor slid open and a white rat stepped out. "Fellows, this is Doctor Phillip Hartford, who graciously copied the plans before his escape that fateful day. He's lived in a bunker since his escape, somewhere on Venom, and he's run out of two things that are vital to his research - money and supplies. He'll build us several Subjugators, and in exchange we will provide him with whatever he needs. No questions asked... and no possiblity to trace it from one party to the other. There is more to the plan... which I'll explain later."

They rubbed their collective paws greedily - except Professor Matins, who expressed doubt. "I can see this as a powerful bargaining chip for us, but where, pray tell, can we covertly assemble these weapons, let alone acquire enough material to do so and still leave something for the Doctor?"

Carl turned to Hartford. "Leave those details to the Doc and me. I've hired several unknowing smugglers to bring illicit supplies into the Lylat System from my mine on Espar III. I've also hired Sattler and Raimes..."

"Who?" Merle posed.

A very large elephant emerged from a door behind Mitchum.

"Sattler..."

Another creature, festooned with various blasters, phasers and scopes, entered behind Sattler.

"...and Raimes. A heavy and an assassin. Corneria shouldn't get involved, but in the event that they do look into things, these two will provide more than enough firepower to eliminate any agents they come across."

Sattler simply smiled. Raimes found words.

"For any good price, I'd be glad to split a few hairs... heads... and tails."

All assembled laughed. KARIM began typing.

"I can divert funds immediately. Ahhh, at last a plan with almost no chance of going awry!"

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LOCATION: Corneria Main Airbase - Access Road #7, 5 Miles from the Gate

DATE: 3 Days Later

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Chuck Lantam worked in and around the base's main hangar, inspecting various readouts that only he really understood. Now he'd be late for work, his car having broken down two miles from the expressway, five miles from the perimeter gate. Glancing at the steaming mess that was his engine, he was relieved to hear the low sound of another hovering vehicle pulling closer and stopping. A tall, slender ferret in a jumpsuit hopped out of the driver side door and crossed the road to him.

"Morning!"

"Yeah," Chuck replied, "but not a good one."

"Car's busted?"

He nodded. "Blew some amn rod or something. Hey, you work at the base? Never seen you before."

Dar laughed. "Usually take another road in. Just your luck, I suppose. You work around here too?"

He rolled up his sleeves and bent into the engine. "Yep, main hangar section. Mind giving me a hand here?"

Dar walked behind him and slammed the hood down. Chuck Lantam was caught in the small of his back and fell unconscious instantly. Dar returned to his car and came back with a needle of sedative and jammed it into the gerbil's leg. Retrieving his ID's, he walked to his car, intent on driving to the main gates. He smiled and turned to Chuck.

"That was a bit more of a hand than he needed."

Sleepily the guard at the command post walked out to the door. The window rolled down and Dar flashed the identification before the sentry.

"Eh? Oh, alright, have a nice day, sir."

He slowly edged the hovecar into Parking Space 32A47, noted its location, and stepped out. The garage reeked of engine fluids and hover coolants. Disgusted, he walked over to the entry of Military Hangar Primary, holding area for StarFox's arwing jets and mothership, the Great Fox. The hallway was empty before him, and he walked nervously down it until he came to a men's bathroom. Chuckling under his breath, he ducked inside.

Right away he heard the sound of someone trembling in fear. Cautiously he approached one of the stall doors and creaked it open from the side. A phaser bolt struck the tiled wall. Dar stepped left, into view of a technician, with his hands in the air.

"I'm not going to hurt you, pal. What the hell's going on here?"

"Breach of security," the stunned puma reported, "terrorists got onto the Great Fox and are holding the Team at gunpoint for ransom."

Dar was shocked. "Do you know their price?"

Cautiously the young worker shrugged, whispering, "Whatever they want, I guess. Nothing we can do."

Dar snatched an access card from the technician's pocket. "No, nothing you can do." Saluting (and recieving a weak return), Dar snuck back into the hall. All was quiet. He walked to the hangar control room door and slid the card into the slot. Before the door was fully open a large plasma bolt incinerated a wall picture of General Pepper hanging nearby. Dar loaded his blaster and ducked, peeking down into the hall.

An ermine decked out in various weapons and clips, Raimes, fired at him from that very area as it jumped out the door. Dar dove into the now open doorway. Plodding, the somewhat slow villain followed.

Raimes stepped into the control room. He checked both sides of the door prior to entering, and finding it safe had entered, gun drawn.

From his vantage point above the portal Dar easily ambushed Raimes. The gun misfired and shot a panel before the useless firearm slid across the smooth floor. Raimes struggled free of Dar's grip and ran for the weapon. The ferret anticipated the move and brought his elbow fiercly into Raimes' upper back, driving several clips into the ermine thug's flesh. Raimes screamed in pain, wheeled about, and returned the punch. Dar recoiled with a series of jabs, forcing his opponent into a corner. The fiend countered, using an upward swing to bowl Dar over. Raimes jumped over Dar's twitching, recovering form, picked up a data holo on a nearby counter, and ran into the main hangar where the Great Fox was being held. Weapon readied, Dar followed.

Raimes was just out of kill range, he reasoned, but with one lucky blast he might stun or wound the ermine. After raising his phaser, he squeezed the trigger.

The ermine screamed, clutching his shoulder. Angrily he shuffled away. Dar ignored the wounded criminal and dashed towards the StarFox Team's cruiser.

"Upper hangar secure." Noted one terrorist into his comlink to the bridge, a few moments too soon. Dar silently delivered a fatal blow to the base of the thug's skull and opened the lift door.

Frank Wutherford was the greatest terrorist squad leader alive. He died, or at least the original did, prior to the Androssian War. Wutherford, however, had himself cloned multiple times by an anonymous biologist. Each successive clone was released as soon as the one prior to it ceased to live, inheriting the memories - and grudges - of each before him. Frank Two had died near Andross's side, his employer at the time, and Frank Three now stood on the bridge holding Fara Phoenix, Peppy Hare, Slippy Toad, and Falco Lombardi at gunpoint with two other guards. The lift doors slid open.

"Sir," said one, a salamander, "I believe we're being reinfor... aghhh!!!" One, two fell to Dar Mansfield's erratic but accurate shooting. Then came... Dar's shot struck a piece of hull plating. Another lift, containing the legendary leader Wutherford, closed quickly. Dar tossed a rifle to Peppy and Falco grabbed the other.

"Hold any of 'em off. If you four would kindly contact the army and inform them that the Great Fox is safe..." he glanced at the four pilots. Someone was missing...

"Fox! Where's Fox?"

"Engine room." Falco counseled. "They took him down there. If that guy went to tell them though he may already be dead."

Dar cocked his weapon. "I'll be the judge of that. I'm going down."

Frank looked up to see Dar on a catwalk above the engine, aiming at his head. He laughed.

"Fox McCloud is at gunpoint... my gunpoint. You shoot me, I shoot him. You run, I shoot him and pursue. And, just so you know, a very large elephant by the name of Sattler is behind you... Make, your move."

Without hesitation, Dar depressed his trigger. Frank Three dropped his gun, never having fired on Fox. Dar swung around, catching one of Sattler's massive fists with his snout. He collapsed, unconscious, onto the catwalk. Sattler bent down and cradled the ferret's neck, intent on breaking it.

At that very moment every alarm in the base went off.

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LOCATION: Cornerian Base Hospital

DATE: A Few Hours Later

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Dar reared back to life in the medical section of the base. His indebted friends hovered about.

"I told you I'd see you in the base."

Fox shook his head. "What luck that you did come. We... I especially, owe you our lives."

Dar smiled. "Just serving my planet. Where are the ermine and elephant that nearly killed me?"

Fox glanced at him. "The elephant ran off when the alarms sounded. A shuttle left the hangar five minutes later. I suppose he was on it."

Fara placed a paw on his forehead. "Amazing! That Sattler fellow broke your snout. Clean fracture too... that guy's got muscle!"

He rubbed his bandaged nose. "Hell, I'll be okay, Miss Phoenix. How'd you know this Sattler guy's name anyway?"

"Sattler and Raimes," Peppy reminicised, "just happen to be noted criminals for hire. Been so long since they've been in our system that no one remembers them taking an exile. Older than you kids, younger than I am, but deadly ever since they teamed up to offer their services as a package deal. Who're they working for? Well, that's one thing I don't know." His ears twitched. Someone had entered the room.

The otter in a labcoat nodded to the guests and, with the greatest of authority, motioned to Dar.

"I'm sorry, but I'll have to ask you folks to leave. Mr. Mansfield needs quite a bit of rest prior to our ray-scanning and bone restructuring surgery. You can come back tomorrow at about the same time, thanks." Without another word he shuffled them out.

The door clicked shut. Dar chuckled. "You have such transparent disguises, Marion."

Marion walked slowly across the room. "Marion" was the first director of the President's Servicemen Outfitters. Since then, each director had been codenamed Marion, regardless of sex. This particular Marion was indeed male, and it didn't seem to bother him a bit. Rather, he bore the ridiculous moniker with pride. He withdrew a vial, and from it produced a pill which he gave to a thoughtful Dar.

"Cyanide?"

Marion scoffed. "New anesthetic, just developed it back at the labs. You'll have to get out of the hospital - and base, mind you - by three A.M. tomorrow and we both know how the chief hates for you to be late. This has an additional effect of countering other forms of pain relief, so you won't experience drowsiness and numbness afterwards. Take this, wake up sometime after midnight, and escape with what's in your suitcase.

Dar glanced about. "I don't own a suitcase!"

Marion pulled a large box from under the hospital bed, and from that extracted a fine leather suitcase.

"Venomian Lizard. Do take good care of it, it took forever to get black market war spoils. Not as legal as the government likes, but you agents deserve damn well better than civilians."

Dar scanned its simple exterior, confused. "Rigged, knowing you. What does it do?"

Marion proudly pointed out the case's features as though it was his son.

"This," he said, pointing to the handle, "is specially encoded to your fingerprints and yours alone. Just squeeze, and it opens. Try it."

Dar did. Inside were several items and some mechanics. Marion explained each in turn.

"This pen is a rather weak phaser... stunning capability only. However, it's never expected. Just, well, forgive the puns, but all you to is point, click, and shoot. Oh, and this dictionary of law is actually a professional criminal lock decoder. Reads the keycard slot and scans it. There's a simple grappling hook of unnilenium bicarbonate fiber. Finally, the key for your simple, inconspicuous, and featureless, getaway car. It's green, two-years old, with a Downtown Motors hood ornament. Garage C, Section 42."

Dar was intruiged. "Is something up?"

Marion walked to the door. "My time with you, for one thing. And, as for that, well, from this point on consider yourself On Assignment, Dar."

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LOCATION: Cornerian Base Hospital

DATE: 1:30 A.M.

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The clock ticked to an appropriate time. Dar snapped out of the 'drugged sleep' the doctors thought he had been in after the surgery. His nose was unbandaged now and he would appear inconspicuous enough. Dressing quickly, he plotted his escape. The door was locked, but that didn't mean there weren't ways out...

He examined his own window - sealed, naturally. Quietly he snuck to his door and withdrew the decoder. Placing it over the lock, he was rewarded with a low humming, and finally a click. The door creaked open into the dark hallway.

The nurse at the nursing station on the opposite end of the hall was sleeping, but anyone entering or leaving the elevators would no doubt be caught. Decidedly so, he walked down to the large window at the end. It too, was closed off, but in the corner of his eye he noticed a door. This one wasn't like the others - it was a stairwell.

A few seconds later he was in the damp, quiet shaft. Although he could go down, the last thing he wanted was to accidentally bump into anyone. Instead, he bypassed the sign warning of dangers on the rooftop and clambered to the door. It wasn't locked, but it refused to open more than a few inches because of a chain on the outside. Grumbling, Dar withdrew his laser and examined it.

Not enough power to melt the metal... but...

He opened the rear of the pen and found the tiny propulsion magnets and phase integrators. A few twists, turns and clicks later he was in possession of a small, volatile explosive.

Dar slid the pen between a link of the chain and raced to the stairway entrance. Instants later the pen exploded, and the clattering of metal told Dar that the chain was gone. Smirking, he jumped up the stairs and pressed open the roof door.

Corneria's base is equipped with searchlights, and they didn't hesitate to use them to scan the night sky for invasions and the like. Dar walked past several such lights and found an overhang. Below was the parking garage. With nary a thought he hooked his grapple onto the base of a light and vaulted the wall, rapelling down.

He ended up atop Garage B, and a few minutes later was opening the door to his car. It started perfectly and he was soon on the highway, heading for the capitol building. After switching the car onto auto, he turned on the holo. The early morning shows were interrupted by a news bulletin.

"We interrupt this broadcast to bring you a CNN News message."

A weasel in a nice suit, the anchorman, smiled and clicked his papers onto the newsdesk.

"Hello Corneria, this is Grant Hasslethwait, with the Cornerian News Network. As we reported, the Cornerian Air Base was attacked today by unidentified terrorists. Although all personnel were rescued safely, the leaders of the terrorist unit escaped in a military shuttle. Only a few hours ago, at the testing of Mitchum Industries' new V23 Fighter, they appeared again and stole the experimental fighter. Early footage follows."

The scene switched to a platform illuminated by spotlights. The V23, shaped a bit like a gravy boat, which had earned it the designation of the "Gravy" fighter, sat illuminated from all sides. An announcer explained it to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen, Mitchum Industries is proud to present the V23 assault craft. This is the military vehicle of the future. Equipped with an experimental gravity drive that allows it to achieve three times the speed of a normal craft, and capable of directing and manipulating objects as large as a skyscraper with its unbelieveably strong tractor beam, the V23 can fill various rolls in and around the Lylat System.

At that point the news cameras focused on the perimeter of the staging area. There, several police officers were fighting off an elephant that could only have been Sattler. Within seconds he and Raimes were rushing to the fighter while the announcer spoke.

"And there's our pil... wait. Those aren't the pilots! Please clear the area, ladies and gentlemen, but do so orderly!"

The "Gravy" lifted off and, with incomprehensible speed, took off into the atmosphere. Grant Hasslethwait returned to the screen.

"A few minor riots were started in the panic, but most were begun by confused citizens protecting themselves. Nothing was looted and no one was arrested, however, the fighter was obviously not recovered. Mitchum Industries CEO Carlos Mitchum could not be reached for a comment, but his press secretary said quote: 'We will take any steps necessary to aid the government in the recovery of the V23.'"

Dar's holo clicked off as he slowed to a stop in front of the capitol's rear entrance. He approached a small staircase and clambered down. The box outside spoke.

"Good evening. Please state name."

"Darvis Mansfield." Dar said clearly. The box clicked several times and the door slid open. Dar entered.

The top secret hallway was unadorned and metallic. He approached an elevator and pushed a button for the President's office.

A wall with a picture on it slid open before Dar and he walked into the office of Corneria's current President, Andrew Harrels. The tall giraffe nodded and motioned for his agent to sit.

"Nice to see you Dar. I understand you had a bit of a run-in with danger today?"

Dar laughed. "Just an elephant, a few terrorists. That's all."

The President looked grave. "No, that's not all... look at this."

President Harrels began playing the news clip Dar had seen earlier.

"I've seen this before. Mitchum's new fighter was stolen by the same terrorists that were in the base today."

"Was that all they took?"

Dar shook his head. "The ermine, Raimes, stole a data tape, but I don't know what precisely he was stealing."

Harrels brought up a few pictures of the Subjugator Missle.

"That's why I had your opposite find that out. The tape was a download of detailed information you stole on Andross's Subjugator Missle. Put together, it makes perfect sense. The V23 has the capability to transport anything... a cruiser, a building..."

"Or a missle." Dar concluded. Harrels nodded.

"Exactly. Now this all makes sense - steal plans for a missle, load it onto the V23 and carry it to Cornerian space, holding essentially an entire planet at gunpoint."

"One problem," Dar said, sipping some scotch that was sitting on the desk for him. "in that you can't make a missle like that without being able to assemble it. That requires both resources and a place to hide the missle until it's completed."

Harrels sighed. "There are plenty of companies that we suspect. A few arms dealing syndicates, Harnington-"

"What about Mitchum?"

Harrels was taken aback. "Mitchum!? Why?"

"Simple enough. True, it was Mitchum's fighter that was stolen, but consider this. Isn't it ironic that they're a very powerful company with vast resources at their command? Why not design a fighter that could transport an assembled missle, then have your terrorists steal it to cover your tracks until it's too late? Que up that news clip, and focus in on the struggle at the gates."

Harrels did so, playing the tape slowly. It became obvious that one guard "misfired", killing the other, then hopped out of the way, faking being "tossed aside". The President was convinced.

"It's altogether possible that Mitchum is involved in this plot. However, we have no way of telling whether Mitchum Industries is building a Subjugator, and we cannot be certain that Carlos Mitchum himself knows anything of this."

Dar thumbed through a catalouge of recent activities in and around the Lylat System. "What about this? Smuggling has picked up on Macbeth."

"What a place to hide a missle. There's so much going on there that no amount of scanning could detect it. I take it you're already packed, Dar?"

He patted the suitcase Marion had given him. "A few changes of clothes, some toiletries, and a gun, and I think I will be."

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

LOCATION: Vergen City, Macbeth

DATE: A Few Days Later

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Dar stepped off the commercial transport and into the busy Vergen Spaceport. Wading through crowds, he approached the security checkpoint before the exit. A cougar guard smiled and pointed to the suitcase.

"Hello sir, nice to see you again. Just place that on the belt."

He complied. The cougar walked over to the console that beeped if weapons and other illegal items were inside. Just as Dar's suitcase rolled by, he hit the 'OVERRIDE' button. Happily, Dar walked through the scanners and retrieved his luggage.

Outside the air was dark and smoggy, and he coughed while hailing a taxi. He clambered into the back and the driver laughed.

"Don't come here often."

Dar was sickly. "No, not... *cough* usually."

"You get used to it. Where to?"

"Mitchum Hotel."

The driver nodded and began to pull out of the spaceport. On the way, Dar glanced out the window to see a white rat in a labcoat packing luggage into a limousine. Dar thought for a few seconds, then unable to place the face turned back towards the front.

Macbeth screamed by at a moment's notice. Great, towering offices dotted the landscape like molten spires in a sea of smoking industrial magma. Various dingy, sooty buildings clotted the life of the planet, and Dar wondered what it must have looked like before the intrusion of business. Then, almost as soon as the ride had begun, it ended under the canopy of the Carlos Mitchum Hotel deep in the industrial sector of Vergen. A valet opened the door and Dar climbed out of his seat, paid the driver and tipped him heavily. Then he closed the door and walked to the large entryway.

The desk clerk was patient and helpful, and Dar soon had the key to his room and was on the way to the elevators. As he did he brushed against a beautiful raccoon on her way to the main desk. He smiled at her and she glared back. Dar shrugged.

"Must be losing my touch. On the other hand, that's usually what tempts them to stay."

Dar's room was on the thirty-second floor, in the smallest suite available. It wasn't a regular room, but wasn't flamboyant enough to attract a great deal of attention. After scouring the room for cameras, he fell back on the bed and sighed, closing his eyes.

He was awakened from napping by a knock on the door. Quickly he walked to it and spoke.

"Who is it?"

"Room service!" A familiar voice answered. Dar chuckled and opened the door. A uniformed otter entered with a cart on which there were several large, covered trays.

"Good evening Marion. Have a nice flight?"

Marion smiled. "Probably would've been easier if I'd not known you were here. Honestly, you're a dangerous person to be around Dar. Anyway, you obviously know why I'm here."

Dar nodded. "Not to serve me dinner, that much I know."

Marion began lifting the trays, under which were various gadgets. Dar picked off a sprig of parsely from one.

"That's a very sick joke."

Marion shrugged it off and began. "Well, obviously we sent you along with the standard gun. Here's a plate of ammuntion, and a few other attachments - a lock on butt, a scope and a biological aiming tracker that assists with your aim. Harrels is convinced you don't need it, and with your marksmanship I must agree. Still, can't take any precautions. Anyhow, here's the rest..."

He picked up a microcamera. "Bet you can't guess what this is."

Dar smiled. "A gun? A bomb?"

Marion clicked and the camera flashed. "No, it's a camera. But unlike most, it doesn't decode directly to film. That's too dangerous and slow. This camera sends pictures directly back to the control center at home, for faster analysis. And this, I'm really proud of..."

He picked something off a seemingly empty plate. With a click, a pair of wrist binders appeared in his paws.

"We can cloak a ship... we can cloak a man... and now we can cloak a pair of handcuffs. They're inconspicuous restraining devices. Just don't waste them, since there's no key."

"An open and shut idea, perhaps..." Dar picked up a watch. Marion grabbed it.

"Be cautious! This isn't something that you just slap on your wrist. Don't click it closed or it'll explode. It must be set to 6:00 before you do that. Then you can reset it. It also contains a lockpick, a taser, and a welding beam. We're also working on one that cuts wires, but so far all it's done when it snips them is break down or detonate."

"Your comrades must be running out of wrists."

Marion blinked and lifted a cigarette lighter and case from below the tray.

"The lighter is a communicator... and the case a microtracker listening device. If you find either the V23 or the Subjugator, plant it. No amount of cover can protect it then. Finally, we come to your coat."

Marion withdrew a well folded coat and unrolled it. "Here's your standard-issue overcoat. It does quite a bit, you realize. For instance... this pocket contains ultraviolet powder, and the other side has a UV light for detection. There's a canister of nerve gas here, and in this pocket you have an underwater rebreather which can also function as a gas mask, and a small attack knife. Be careful with these, they're all hard to replace. And don't worry about the nerve gas puncturing on accident, the can's indestructable."

Dar shuddered. "I don't want to know how you found that out."

Marion grinned and lifted the last plate. There was a steaming piece of meat and a glass of wine.

"What's that?"

"Dinner, Dar. Just because I'm outfitting you doesn't mean I don't care if you eat."

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

LOCATION: Mitchum Industrial Area

DATE: 10:00 AM The Next Morning

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Dar shuddered in the cold as the taxi dropped him off on the corner of two nondescript streets. Here in the dense industrial sectors roads existed only to bridge the gap between one titantic manufacturing plant and the next. It was every capitalist's paradise, the epitome of all that free marketing stood for. Obviously, it was an environmentalist's nightmare, but very few environmentalists concerned themselves with Macbeth anymore. The crusade to keep Macbeth pure would be several centuries late, and despite the fact that it was potentially reterraformable, few would want to go to the trouble. The once thick ore deposits had long since been depleted, but the parasite that was industry had remained, a fattening tick on the dog of the Lylat system.

Dar trudged down the dirty sidewalk, examining the four buildings that belonged to Carlos Mitchum Incorporated and tried to determine what lay in the bowels of each. Somewhere, within the shells of steel and titanium, resided the beginnings of terrorism. But which was it?

Stupidity makes for an excellent partner to deduction. A quick inspection of each building's exterior revealed new cameras and doors on only one of the factories. It was relatively obvious that building G had something to hide. Dar ducked into a lowered entryway, pretending to be a homeless drifter seeking a few minutes of shelter. Quietly he withdrew his gun and poked it out from just inside his overcoat. A quick squeeze and the camera lens cracked. Dar smiled and held his wrist up to the entranceway lock. The welding laser lanced out of the dial and into the mechanisms. Dar heard a melting sound, then a click. The door slowly opened. Content, Dar slipped inside.

The constant drumming of machinery was all he heard. Old Class III fusion drivers pounded incessantly, lighting the industrial complex with an eerily uncertain amount of power. The rank smell of lubricant and grease overshadowed any other scents within the catwalks. Dar used the darkness to his advantage and slipped quietly along the barren metal walkway, nearly crawling. He had no way to be sure of his direction in the massive building, and his position somewhere above the factory floor left him in little position to maneuver. He heard the tapping of shoes fading along in the distance and rushed to catch up with whoever it was.

He finally caught up with the figure. It was none other than the female raccoon that he had encountered in the hotel lobby the day before! With stealthy actions he tailed her to a stairwell and looked over the edge as she walked out onto the floor.

He had never realized the fluidity of her movements. She was cautious in taking steps and seemed constantly in motion, but possessed of full awareness that what happened around her always figured her shapely body in somehow. He wondered why she was here, and within a few minutes had her answer.

A white rat paced in the midst of the factory. Dar recognized him as the man at the spaceport. Whatever was going on here was relatively recently set in motion. The rat spoke.

"Miss Hargreaves! Did you finish your ballistics report?"

She nodded smartly. "Right here, Doctor Hartford. I believe our propulsion in the third stage is grossly undersupplied. If we want more force of impact we need more fuel."

He smiled. "As I'd never see... well, shall we take a look?"

She pressed a panel, which flipped and revealed several control buttons. Pressing one, she turned to her side and Dar examined her various endowments. Grinning with approval, he turned away to retrieve his camera.

Slowly the framework of a large projectile rose from a false floor. Doctor Hartford laughed and crossed to the left side of the bay, letting Dar see his face. The ferret spy smirked, snapping zoomed pictures.

"Stand right there, doc... that's good... now for the little lady..." He took more pictures. "And the big fella..."

After a few pictures of the missle were taken, Dar turned to leave. A boot met his face as he did and he tumbled down the stairs.

Frank Wutherford IV leapt down the steps and clattered onto the small halfway platform. Doctor Hartford looked up at the commotion, but was unable to see anything. Panicked, he walked briskly to an elevator on the opposite side. Miss Hargreaves, unable to decide her own course of action, waited at the panel, watching.

Dar picked himself up and dealt a blow to the chinchilla mercenary. Frank took the blow and retaliated with a hook. Dar ducked and rolled to his left. Frank threw himself at his adversary and they grappled. Dar swept Frank's feet from under him with a brisk kick, and was promptly dragged down the rest of the stairs head over heels. The two continued to fight. Dar, however, was not quite content to simply punch his way to victory. With one quick movement he somersaulted backwards, his paws in two pockets. Frank rushed. Dar brought the breather up to his snout and depressed the nozzle on the nerve gas. Frank Wutherford stopped dead in the cloud, twitched several times, and collapsed. Dar dropped the can, drew his gun, and rushed across the room to the raccoon. Aiming the phaser at her head, he warned her.

"Please don't do anything that might make me kill you, ma'am."

She placed her paws on her head. "Please don't let me do anything that would make you, sir."

Nervously he closed in on her, still carefully aiming.

"Who are you? Tell me now!"

"Ell... Ell... len... Ellen... Hargreaves, ballistics engineer with Mitchum Industries."

"Do you know what you're working on?"

"A missle..." She looked obviously annoyed. He motioned for her to drop her hands.

"Yes, well, we can talk about that later. Is Carlos Mitchum here? Now?"

She slowly lowered and raised her head. "A few rooms over. Please don't kill me!"

He holstered the gun. "I'd not think of that, killing such a... wonderful... person such as yourself."

"Perhaps the word you were searching for was "busty"? Maybe "stunning"? I get that a lot. It's not a big deal, sir."

He smiled. "We might get along well, Ellen. Might I call you that?"

"Not really. Miss Hargreaves. You?"

"Mr. Mansfield will do for the moment. What is Carlos doing?"

She shook her head violently. "I really, really don't know. What are you going to do to him?"

Dar shrugged. "It's just a routine investigation. Listen to me, Miss Hargreaves. I want you to stall the doctor, wherever he went. Try to find some sort of shuttle for escaping. I'll be right out. Pull an alarm on me and so help Corneria I'll blow your head off."

Nervously she complied, walking to the elevator. Dar dashed to the doors she was pointing to. They opened slowly. Gun drawn, Dar snuck through the next few barren rooms until he came to a sterile, almost posh docking area for a medium-sized cruiser. Ducking behind some crates, Dar examined the room. A chihuahua stood on a hover maintenance platform - Carlos Mitchum, no doubt. Zooming in with his camera, Dar noticed several others. Two were Sattler and Raimes, standing quiet vigil over the area. Another was a well known Cornerian businessman, Tim Custer, and Professor Matins of CIT. Dar took a few snapshots and tried his best to listen in on the conversation.

"...then we'll take... towards the target planet... at which point the communi... opened and we will express our demands. And I want... be there for the sole purpose of..."

Dar sighed, unable to quite understand Mitchum, but certain he was guilty. It was then that he saw the V23, sitting almost discarded in a corner. Dar removed the small tracker and attached it to the side of the fighter. Quietly he slipped to some open doors and tiptoed out without being noticed. A few doors over and he was in the larger, more impressive docking area, where a lone shuttle sat idling with its door open. He cautiously approached the transport, and finding it at least somewhat safe leapt inside. Ellen stood in the cockpit nervously, shuffling her feet.

"What'll you do now?"

He clicked his phaser, locking in a fresh clip. "Whatever it'll take to make sure that dog doesn't get away with it."

She fumed. "I still don't understand. Get away with what?"

He sat her down in the copilot's seat while propping his legs up on the control panels. "Alright. About two years ago I infiltrated a silo in which Andross was building a missle codenamed Subjugator. Two, in fact. I blew his silos and the missles up that day, but that didn't mean much. One of the scientists was Doctor Hartford - I remember the face now. He was the one that warned me about the alarm... but now that I think of it... his paw was on the alarm while he stood in the doorway! That pigeon!!!" Dar slammed his fist onto a few buttons and a laser lanced from the shuttle and incinerated a cleaning robot. "Anyway, he must've stolen the plans for the missle. One way or the other Carlos and his little crime syndicate got wind of the existance of the Subjugator in plans only, and he decided to build one. By stealing his own starfighter he was trying to throw us off the scent. However, it would seem that his little game wasn't as sophisticated as he'd like. We know what he's up to and I alone can stop him. I'm a top secret agent - I really shouldn't even be telling you this. Except..."

She glanced at him nervously.

"Except what?"

"Except I can trust you. I have to trust you. You were no doubt misled to believe this was a legit operation for the Cornerian Army." She nodded. "But General Motambo isn't a fan of mass destruction. We all know that. You trusted your employer and now you need to trust me. I can keep you alive, but if Mitchum gets you back he'll no doubt either torture you for the information, kill you, or God knows what else. I need your help to go after Mitchum. And if you won't help me, I can't do it."

She lowered her beautiful head, diverting her deep brown eyes and her masked face. "But I can't just turn against everyone. Mitchum's given me job security, and if I just let myself go, what next? If I do help you, I'm still going to head for prison."

"No. I can get you out with a presidential pardon or immunity or any number of things. We can fake your death and give you a new identity if need be. There's nothing we won't do to protect you... but you have to aid me."

She sighed and nodded, returning her eyes to him. "If you do get Carlos at your mercy, will you kill him?"

"An army man or a police officer would say no. But I can kill if I want to. What will please you more?"

Her face locked up in an angry stare. "I'd feel much safer if he were dead."

"Then he's dead. That's of course, if you're willing to assist me?"

She slowly raised and lowered her head. "I just feel there's something I'll never be able to do..."

He grinned. "That's my job. Whatever you can't do I can. That's the definition of team. So you're willing?"

She smiled and sat up. "Sure. Whatever it's going to take."

Dar turned to the controls and stuck a cigarette lighter into the radar. The blip that appeared was moving. Dar was shocked.

"The V23. They're taking it out of here. We've got to follow them, perhaps there's another base we don't know about."

The transport's engines kicked in and it slowly lifted off towards the access gates. Ellen looked onto the huge doors in fright.

"The doors aren't... open!!!"

She dove under her seat. Dar snickered and launched a missle at it. The exceptionally well-powered ballistic blew a hole in the metal just large enough for the ship to squeak out. The V23 was within sighting distance and climbing fast. Dar increased the elevation of his craft, locked onto the fighter, and set the autopilot to follow it. He took the time to speak and plan with Ellen.

"Now we know that he's got to finish the missle before launching it. How far along are you?"

She rubbed her tail anxiously. "We weren't but a few days from completion of the last stage. After that... there'd be prepping, but eventually a launch could be pulled off in less than three days. Depending on the target it could take anywhere from one to four hours to reach final launching stage, and about one minute to ready, aim and fire the Subjugator. The question is, Mr. Mansfield..."

He grasped her paw. "Dar. Dar Mansfield."

She blushed. "I suppose we're on even enough terms then. As you know, I'm Ellen, but you can just call me that from now on."

He smiled. "Smashing. Well then... Ellen..." he could feel the passion she was hiding, "where exactly could this target be?"

She turned her head and studied a starmap. "Well, we have Corneria and Macbeth... the populated worlds."

"No good, Ellen..." he smiled again, "Why would Mitchum obliterate half of his own industrial empire? That doesn't follow. It'll have to be somewhere else."

"Katina," she suggested, "has a large population, but no major influence from Mitchum Industries."

At that point a flop of her dark ebony headfur fell over her right eye. Embarassed, she blew it a few times, but it would not return to its former positon. Dar slowly reached his paw to her forehead and moved the strands. She wiggled a bit, afraid. Without wasting his time, Dar reached behind her head and pushed her snout to his. For a moment she struggled to pull away, but then decided that she rather liked what he was doing. They parted lips and Dar grinned innocently.

"What was that about Katina? No, I don't think so..."

"Perhaps Aquas or Zoness?"

"Once again, those are possible, but unlikely. The water would reduce the missle's damage loadout."

"Well that leaves Venom, Titania, and Fortuna... all worthless wasteland worlds."

He kissed her again, longer and more involved this time, then laughed.

"Not all worthless. Pull up some specs on Titania."

She turned and, with her free paw, queued up a screen showing various scans of the desert world.

"That's it. That's all there is. A few Andross troop shells, one or two military bases..."

"And," Dar noted, "more mineral resources than you could shake... those two wonderful pieces of hardware you've got... at." He awaited a swift punch to his face. It never came.

Ellen's more eager than she wants me to think...

"Of course!" She remarked. "If Mitchum hits the ore industry hard stock in it will shoot up. And Mitchum's got a portfolio full of metal stock that he's been accumulating. I've seen the paper headlines - "Mitchum Corners Steel Market" and the like. But if everyone knows that Mitchum is behind the operation, why wouldn't he get caught?"

Dar was unsure. "I'm not really certain, Ellen. For whatever reasons, though, Carlos wants to blast Titania. He couldn't destroy it, but there's no telling what might happen to the industry as a result."

Ellen looked at the clever ferret who just minutes ago had performed what was in a sense sexual harassment. But she had allowed him to get away with that... maybe he was liscenced to do that as well. "But how did you guess Titania?"

"Based on what you said - three days - it makes for a shorter trip to go to Titania. Never forget that people are lazy. Two nights from now and Titania will be 30 minutes from Macbeth. If he takes off then, Corneria will have little or no advance warning and will have to acquiese to his demands."

She smiled and laughed. "Well, I can't say I'm not impressed, Dar."

He wrapped his arms around her. "I can do a lot more to impress you than just deduce and shoot..."

They kissed deeply and passionately for a few moments. Ellen sighed happily. "Really? Can you then?"

Winking, she walked towards the small cabin at the back of the transport. After slowing the shuttle to a slow cruise speed, Dar followed, trying his best to keep the professional demeanor that he knew would fall away as quickly as... well, a few other things might in there.

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

LOCATION: Deep Space Near Solar

DATE: Two Hours Later

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

A beeping alarm from the cockpit swung Ellen back to life. She wasn't quite certain of her surroundings for the first few seconds.

Let me see... I'm in a small transport cabin, my blouse is on the floor, and... oh yeah, Dar...

Groaning, she nudged the limp figure under the covers with her toe. Dar groaned and yawned, stretching his handsome but still somewhat scrawny body out. He tossed her the sheet.

"Cover up, love. I'll be right back."

Pulling on his trousers, Dar trudged back into the cockpit. Solar loomed before them like an interstellar stopsign. Dar noticed that the heat of the transport was well above normal. Quickly he turned around and jetted off at full speed.

Wrapped in nothing but a sweaty bedsheet, Ellen slid into the cabin and took her seat, looking at Dar.

"What happened to the V23?"

Dar pointed behind him. "While we were frolicking, it plunged into the sun. I have a funny feeling, and it isn't related to your choice of covering, that it was sent out to mislead us."

She walked back to the cabin entrance, bent over to retrieve her pants, and began to ponder. "But why would Mithcum destroy it?"

She suddenly felt very vulnerable. Dar had snuck up behind her and yanked off the blanket. She wiggled her tail playfully.

"I believe, Ellen, it was a stripped vehicle. Carlos no doubt stuck all the neat features on it onto his transport then sent it away. I don't think his plan was to get us in bed so that we'd fall into Solar, but that almost worked."

She pulled the blouse on over her head and stepped into her pants. "Maybe, but I can't see how he would've known..."

"Doctor Hartford. He no doubt squealed. Mitchum knows I'm with you and wanted to send us away. It took two hours going out. Getting back will be quicker at full speed."

She returned to the controls and slid on her shoes while Dar dressed. "I dunno. My heart's racing, and my mind is absolutely blown. I can't think... I trust you can?"

He came back rather quickly. "Yeah. But, uh, isn't that a fighter coming towards us now?"

She strained at the distant object and checked her radar. "Yes, it is... why?"

A voice broke in over the comlink. "Unidentified transport, please state your business in Devoniay space!"

Dar slapped the comms button. "Devoniay? We were en route to Macbeth."

The pilot appeared on the screen. He was a young sparrow. "Negative, sir, madam, we have been given orders to force you to land at the main military base on Devoniay. You've been requested. Don't deviate from your course right now and don't try anything. Clear?"

Ellen nodded. "Clear."

They plunged into the thick atmosphere of the planet Devoniay and soon emerged on a bizarrely sunny, almost tropical garden moon. The fighter continued to escort them through the clear skies. Little flew on Devoniay, according to law. Within a few minutes they were landing on a platform at the military base. The base was a strangely plotted structure, with one long slender middle section branching off at about 2,000 feet in the air to allow for 3 landing pads. Little else was needed, and there was no other way into the base building except from one of the platforms. Dar and Ellen approached the door and it opened. Dar stood in shock.

"Amazed?"

Carlos Mitchum, in a fresh new business suit that attempted to mask his otherwise small limbs, grinned at them with two Devoniay guards close behind. Mitchum smirked. Ellen stammered.

"H... how did you?"

"If your question is "How did you locate us?" it wasn't that hard. Your transport did have a Mitchum Industries tracker on it. On the other hand, if your question was "How did you get the Devoniay to take sides?" well, I didn't. But the economy of this planet's just a bit strapped, so the personnel are more than happy to let me take justice into my own paws. Take any guns he has and secure this thing. Send an escort up."

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

LOCATION: Devoniay Military HQ

DATE: A Few Minutes Later

*********************************************************************************************************************************************************************

Dar and Ellen walked slowly down the hallway behind Carlos, aware of the armed guards who had fallen into step behind them. At last, after travelling down over a dozen floors, Mitchum opened up a small interrogation room and pushed Dar in. He stopped the guards from doing the same to Ellen.

"Take her up to the Mitchum Shuttle. I'll be right up."

The door closed nearly completely behind Carlos. Smiling, he had Dar sit in a chair and pointed a phaser at the ferret.

"I'm afraid that I don't know who you are. But considering that you exposed one of my projects, stole one of my best personnel, and killed my hire twice, I feel we ought to know each other better. Carlos Mitchum." He extended his paw. Dar spit in it.

"Darvis Mansfield. You know my job."

"Do I then? Well, needless to say I'm none to pleased about that. I suppose that since you're about to be found dead on Devoniay, victim of an unknown assault, I can grant you any sort of wish you might want."

Dar frowned. "I suppose you won't tell me what your whole sordid plan was?"

Carlos laughed. "It's simple really. The missle is prepped and readied over Titania's surface, then we make our demands."

"Which are?"

Mitchum swung the phaser around a few times. "Oh, that. Well, I will be extorting a ludicrous amount of money from the government."

"And you'd be arrested in minutes after you came back to Macbeth."

Carlos laughed so hard he shuddered. "I know that. But my colleagues won't be. And the law is my friend. You know that if they convict me, they can't take my money or corporate position away. I can run my rackets inside the prison and none would be able to stop me. If I get the death penalty, so what? I have heirs, heirs who will immortalize me by rewriting the history books to make me appear a victim of 'big business stoppers' like General Pepper. The media, through my conviction, can blow Pepper's chances of being elected President after that idiotic Harrels, at which point my accquaintances can have a puppet President elected from my own ranks... thus allowing me to control the entire Lylat System from the confines of a safe, solitary cell. After my execution, my heirs, free heirs, can take over and inherit my money."

"What about Ellen?"

"I don't want to hurt her. She seems a very loveable girl. In fact, were it not for those stupid harassment laws I could've had her a long time ago. However, should she seem too knowledgeable about my ideas, I might have her shot."

Dar questioned the plan. "And if Corneria won't pay?"

"Then we destroy the mineral wealth of Titania. It's a win-win situation, Mr. Mansfield. I can't forsee my failure now."

"Can't you now?"

Dar struck out suddenly with his foot. Carlos took the blow to the face and swelled back up only to discover that Dar had rushed out the door in the meantime. Angrily he dashed off to an access elevator.

Dar was suprised that he could run through the base halls unassailed. Because of the mercenary attitude amongst the soldiers, few cared to apprehend him now that they weren't being paid. Dar hopped into a lift and pressed the button for pad Gamma.

The doors slid open. Dar dashed out, only to find Mitchum's shuttle lifting off. Unable to attack it from his position, he rolled left. The shuttle opened fire where he had been standing, and traced his path as he ducked, turned and rolled. At last annoyed, the shuttle rocketed off into the atmosphere. Dar was ready, in the cockpit of a fighter resting on the terrace nearby, and soon took off in pursuit.

Dar was unhindered as he began to sneak up on the transport. Quite suddenly it dove into the atmosphere. Turning a quick corkscrew he had learned in his academy days, Dar was quickly behind.

The transport flew low over Vergen. Inside, KARIM piloted as Carlos hovered over Ellen.

"You understand, dear, that this gun has your name on it. Don't even mention that ferret's name and we won't blow your pretty head into pieces and stain my floor. And I don't enjoy mussing up my floors."

Growling, she backed up to the rear wall. KARIM called back.

"I think we lost him!"

The fighter dropped into the streets, headed straight for them. KARIM braced itself as a few lacers cracked the cockpit and hit him square on. Cursing, Carlos dove for the controls and closed off the rear section of the transport that contained Miss Hargreaves. He called for support.

"Mitchum Industries units. All attack Devonian fighter in Vergen. NOW!!!"

The city came alive below Dar. Anti-Aircraft Batteries slid out of the sidewalk and opened up on him. And to worsen matters, three small fleas caught onto his tail.

Dar tucked and weaved through the twisting urban mess. The fleas followed. Dar smiled and turned to the laser batteries to provide the largest target possible. At the last second he banked to dodge the laser. One ship hit the blast and was obliterated. Laughing, Dar slid down an alleyway. The remaining units followed close behind.

Dar engaged his throttle and approached a construction site. A large crane carried a girder at about his level. When he was certain the fleas were close behind, he fired on the crane's neck. It swung around wildly, spinning the girder like a mace. Dar hit the boosters and dove. The rear enemy was smashed off course and into a building.

The final enemy hugged Dar's ship, firing whenever the opportunity presented itself. Dar's instruments began to break. He dug into his pockets, and found the bio-tracker that the Devonian troopers had not taken. Looking under his seat, Dar retrieved a hunting blaster that was part of the survival kit and affixed the locker to it. With one final flick he had ejected.

Launched into the air, Dar pointed the blaster at the cockpit of the flea, let the gun aim itself, and let fly. A single bolt struck the cockpit in the extreme center. The ship tumbled into a somersault, broke its wings between two small offices, and hit the ground, tumbling. The wounded pilot's last vision was of a taxi screaming towards his twisted hulk of a cockpit before...

Dar shuddered from the explosive force of the crack and allowed his parachute to drift. His ship was quickly blown up by a laser battery, and the defenses retreated into their sheaths, content with the kill.

"The time is now, Mitchum. I'll show you just how I fought these battles during the other war!"

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LOCATION: The Mitchum Industrial Sector, Building G

DATE: Six Hours Later

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Tim Custer and Hubrent Grant checked out the shuttle's cockpit controls while Mitchum and Doctor Hartford ran the final diagnostics checks. Sattler and Raimes, beaming with the thoughts of their soon to be delivered paycheck, were a bit annoyed at Carlos's order.

"Take Miss Hargreaves into the shuttle and keep her well restrained. Without KARIM I have a few problems of my own to take care of."

Hartford finished his checks and a loud click issued throughout the hangar.

"The Subjugator is attached. Where's my money, Carlos?"

Mitchum handed a briefcase to the rat, who promptly opened it, checked the various cards and account numbers, and nodded, walking to the door.

"You sure you can't stay, Phillip? This is your work."

Doctor Hartford shook his head. "I'll be en route to Venom in an hour. I wish you luck, because I don't ever want to hear from you again."

The elevator doors closed and Mitchum turned around, just in time to see the hint of a ferret's tail disappear into the exhaust pit.

"Mansfield! Damn it all! I won't have him planting mines in my hour!!!"

Without thinking he raced to the pit and climbed down the ladder.

Dar removed a mine and prepared to arm and toss it into the engine port. He was interrupted by a sound from above. Carlos Mitchum clambered down into the pit and delivered a quick hook. Clutching his chin, Dar rose and fought back. The two began to trade blows, neither showing much sign of fatigue.

At that point a squad of Cornerian marines, at Dar's direction, burst into the hangar. Mitchum's troops, caught off guard, were forced into a tough defensive fight.

A marine screamed as he took a hit and was dragged behind some boxes by his comrades. Lasers and smoke filled the bay.

Up in the cockpit, Hubrent glanced at the chaos below. Tim nodded.

"Engage the launch sequence."

Hubrent began the launch countdown. Meanwhile, Tim grabbed the comlink.

Down in the pit, the fighting lulled briefly as Custer's voice blared into Carlos's intercom.

"Carl? Get the hell out of wherever you are and get aboard! This skirmish down here's causing a pretty frantic launch. They found us out too soon. We're launching in 2:42."

Carlos didn't care. His mind was fixated on one and only one thing - the death of the Cornerian spy in front of him. Dar appeared to be tiring, worn out by not pacing himself against the suprisingly agile dog.

Dar stumbled back and grasped a metal railing on the side of the pit. Mitchum approached and delivered a jab to his nose. Slipping, Dar slumped to the floor. Mitchum placed his paw on the railing and raised his foot to crush Dar's skull. Suddenly, the ferret reared back from a second wind and bit Carl's ankle. Screaming, Carlos allowed Dar to stand. The ferret palmed something and smiled.

"It is true what they say, Carlos... when you play with fire..."

He slammed something down on Carlos's wrist and then onto the bar. Carlos swung that paw with all his might at the ferret spy...

And jerked in pain as some invisible binding held the paw fast. Dar rushed to the ladder and ascended it, leaving the dog in the pit. The intercom buzzed.

"Ten seconds!"

"DAR!!! TIM!!! SOMEONE!!!"

"Five..."

"HUBRENT, PLEASE!!!"

"Three..."

"OH, COME ON NO... AGHHHHHHHHAHHHHHH!!!"

The door had been closed two seconds before liftoff. Hubrent was pleased that Carlos had made it aboard in time. Engines blared, the exhaust pit filling with flame and generating the thrust needed to send the shuttle with the missle attached into deep space, quickly approaching Titania.

Dar walked slowly down the small, dim hallway. A slow breathing behind him nearly blended into the pulse of the rocket engines. Dar swung around.

Sattler was standing behind him, his trunk raised triumphantly. Raimes was nowhere to be seen.

Dar knew better than to punch the elephant. As the huge, slow paw swiped at him, he rolled back and drew his recovered blaster. With abandon he shot at Sattler. The elephant advanced on him, oblivious to the phaser shots soaking into his chest. There was more than enough muscle to stop pithy blasts like that. With a grunt and a bellow he charged. Dar rolled to the side and into a small anteroom. Sattler trundled down the hallway and stopped when he realized the ferret was not trampled under his feet. Turning, he curiously approached the engine room where Dar had escaped to.

Sattler stepped into the dark room and noticed a pretty glowing room closed off from the rest of the engine area by a door. That door was wide open, and the giant, stupid brain deduced that Dar must have gone inside. Ducking under the doorway, Sattler closed the hatch behind himself.

Dar sprung from the shadows and twisted the reactor door shut. Sattler realized this and pounded on the door, peeping throught a window. The hatch was reinforced, however, so that fusion particles could not easily leak out. Hollering and trumpeting, Sattler watched as the ferret, grinning like a moron, pointed to a holosign in plain sight.

"It says "DANGER: FUSION CORE. DO NOT ENTER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. You really should've called one of those reading programs. Alas, I suppose you'll just end up hooked on phusion."

Dar slipped out of the engine room, closing the door behind him. He never bothered to watch Dar's water molecules be bust apart and reassembled several times. Inevitably, of course, this killed the subject.

Raimes held a phaser to Ellen's head in a small corridor, determined to wait until Sattler returned from dispatching the spy that had wounded him just days before. The door burst open. Ellen cried out happily.

"Dar!!!"

Raimes turned to aim the pistol at Dar. Now free from danger, Ellen grabbed his wrists and jerked them. The shot missed Dar and hit a light nearby. Dar struck forward with all the strength in his arm, hitting Raimes in the face and jerking his neck back. With a loud, hollow snap, the ermine died. Wiping his paws, Dar turned to Ellen.

"You're not hurt?"

Ellen shook her head. "No, why?"

He laughed. "Couldn't live with myself otherwise. We have to get off this ship. The only people left are the ones up in the cockpit. Professor Matins has been rounded up, so those two are all that's left of Mitchum's little business expo. Sattler got locked in the fusion core, and that influx of energy and materials is going to cause an overload if they try to fire the missle. Let's find the pod and get going, eh?"

Ellen examined the body of Raimes.

"What did you do with Mitchum?"

"I took him to dinner. An authentic Macbeth barbecue."

They darted for the most obvious escape route.

On the bridge, Grant fingered the button to launch the missle.

"I don't think Carlos made it, Tim."

Tim Custer smiled and laughed. "Then we go to plan B... reroute power to missle and let fly! Here's to us, and our inevitable success!"

Hubrent slapped the launch button and shook Tim's paw.

The ship exploded into bits. The Subjugator caught the blast, magnified it, and spread a flashy explosion about the Lylat system that President Harrels observed in the command center with Pepper.

"Well I'll be, Harrels. Your man did it."

Harrels smiled. "And he'll keep doing it."

Pepper looked at a scan readout. "I don't think so. No homing beacons..."

Dar cuddled with Ellen aboard the small escape pod, bound for the surface of Titania. Ellen mumbled.

"Shouldn't we turn on the beacon, Dar?"

Dar smiled and pulled her closer to him. "I think it can wait for a few hours after we've made contact..."

They melted into one long, sweet kiss, the passion within the pod hotter than the burning of the desert atmosphere outside.

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THE END

DAR MANSFIELD WILL RETURN IN "SIREN"

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