By, Foxmerc
Edited, JPB and JJC
 
 

Review

     The healing and guiding light in Fox McCloud’s life had been violently extinguished before his eyes. Seeing that his plan to frame McCloud was on the verge of failing, Stefan Chuzie, leader of mercenary team IceStorm, headed a direct assault on the Great Fox. Through fierce fighting, StarFox’s defense held against the onslaught as the battle waged from space to the Great Fox’s own corridors. Victory was at hand when the unthinkable became reality.
     Vicenzia “Vixy” Hohleran, Fox’s fiancé to whom he proposed only hours before, was shot in the confrontation with Stefan. Fox felt that his life was taken that day along with that of his love, and his team was doubtful of his recovery. Falco Lombardi saved his friend’s life just as he was about to end it by his own hand. Yet, even after these grueling struggles, the spirit of Vixy’s love found its way back into Fox’s life, and he found the strength to bring down IceStorm and clear his name.
     Following the formal public apology to McCloud by the Cornerian government, normal life resumed for StarFox, but the memories of Vixy and her horrible death haunted Fox’s dreams. It has been over a year since the entire incident, and StarFox has taken a few small jobs to keep their funds up and get back into routine.
     However, that routine is about to be broken once again. Venom took advantage of StarFox’s weakness during McCloud’s false accusation to begin a project, a last-ditch effort to becoming a formidable force in the Lylat System once again…

PROLOGUE
Eight months after Vixy’s death
Thirty miles off the coast of Corneria City
0217 hours
 
 
 

     The calm, smooth ocean stretched in every direction, disappearing from sight into the endless darkness. Small waves lapped against the gray metal side of the cargo ship C.S. Amaya as it lazily cut through the water, its humming engine the only sound breaking the tranquility. The clear sky revealed infinite stars and, to the observant viewer, the planets of the Lylat System.

     Private Kynser was one such observant person. The leopard stared into space for only seconds before he spotted Fortuna, his home. He brought his head back down and leaned on the guardrail surrounding the deck of the ship, taking another long drag of his cigarette and tossing the butt overboard. The gentle motion of the ocean held his gaze as he tried to think of a way to keep deck guard duty instead of relieving the cargo hold guard. He loved the clean air and openness of the ocean, and hated being holed up inside. The commander had already heard all of his good excuses, and no good ones were coming to him.

     Kynser sighed and turned to head back inside when he noticed something. The humming of the engine seemed louder, higher. He slowly swiveled his head, trying to hear it better, and thought that it sounded like two engines. One sounded like it was coming from above him.

     The leopard grabbed for the rifle slung over his shoulder and snapped his head up. The last thing he saw was a red glow as a laser cut through the night and hit him in the forehead. He fell straight back without a sound, a pool of blood spreading on the metal deck under his head.

     The dropship hovered above the deck while the shooter scanned the rest of the deck. After pronouncing it clear, two ropes were dropped from either side of the dropship and eight black-clad figures silently slid down them, their faces hidden by black hoods. All had identical silenced assault rifles, aimed in every direction in a defensive perimeter around the dropship.

     The shooter and first down the rope, Captain Gage Birse, saw that his team was down and clear and radioed to the dropship.

     “Dagger One to Delivery Boy, all elements clear. Provide us air support until reconnaissance is complete.”

     “Roger, Dagger One.”

     “Dagger Three and Four, secure stern and port sides, Five and Six stay here in aft and cover starboard. Seven and Eight head inside and secure the bridge. Me and Two will recon the cargo holds.”

     Birse received affirmatives from his team as they moved to their assigned positions, shadows blending into the darkness. Dagger Two, gray wolf Lieutenant Forte, jogged up to Birse, recognizable only by his tail. “Ready boss?”

     “Let’s go, keep an eye on our asses.”

     “Hey, I’m married,” Forte replied, and Birse knew he was grinning under his hood. He rolled his eyes and moved towards the heavy metal door that lead inside. The brisk night and saltwater smell gave way to heat and stuffy air, the sparkling stars turned to rusty metal and dim light.

     “This is Dagger Seven, bridge secure.”

     Birse pulled the door shut behind him with a grunt and replied, “Roger that Seven, search the bridge for the ship’s manifest and destination.”

     “Yes sir.”

     Birse motioned to Forte and they moved slowly in a half crouch down the dimly lit beige corridor, rifles pointed straight ahead. Just as the blueprints from military intelligence had promised, a staircase leading down awaited them at the end of the corridor. Birse yanked open the door as he heard a burst of muffled popping sounds. He spun around and fell to a knee in time to see a figure collapse to the floor, the barrel of Forte’s gun lightly smoking.

     Birse let out his breath and opened the door the rest of the way, revealing a winding metal staircase leading down. “This is One. Seven, cut power to all sub-decks.”

     “You got it, sir.”

     Moments later the bottom half of the stairwell disappeared in darkness. Birse and Forte unclipped their nightvision goggles from their vests and slid them over their heads. Birse signaled to Forte to follow him as his eyes adjusted to the green haze.

     Halfway down the staircase, Birse heard footsteps rapidly coming up it and put up his fist as a signal to stop. The figure that came sprinting into Birse’s view was greeted by a burst of lasers that sent him tumbling back down the stairs to the landing.

     “Venom soldiers,” Forte said with a sigh. “They’re just not a challenge anymore.”

     “Don’t get cocky,” Birse replied, resuming the descent. “One lucky shot is all it takes, one little slip.”

     “I know, I know.”

     The next landing down held a door marked “Cargo Hold”. Birse opened the door and the duo moved down the short hallway to a large metal door with “Stand Clear” marked on the side.

     “This is it,” Birse said, slinging his rifle. “Cover me.”

 Forte aimed his rifle down the hall behind them as Birse pulled hard on the door with a grunt. It slowly screeched open and a foul smell, like an open sewer, wafted into the hall.
     “God,” Forte said, swiveling his head around. “What the hell is that smell?”

     Birse shrugged and readied his rifle again, slowly moving into the cargo hold. Through the green haze he saw a huge room, the size of a few gymnasiums, filled with hundreds of objects…moving objects. Why were living things in a cargo hold?

     Birse ripped off his goggles and said, “Seven, lights!”

     A few seconds later, the lights flickered on in the cargo hold. Birse stared into the room, speechless at what he saw.

     “Gage?” Forte said from behind him, joining him at the door.

     “My God…” Birse whispered, removing his hood to reveal his red fur and white muzzle. His eyes met the wide, fearful eyes of hundreds of people of all species and all  ages, male and female alike. They were overly stuffed into the room like crates, all of them chained to the walls or floor, some only half clothed. The smell became stronger as Birse took a step into the room, and his eye caught a small canine, no more than six years old, clinging to his weary mother, looking at him and crying.

     “Dagger Seven to Dagger One. We found the ship’s paper work. It’s headed for a spaceport on the coast with a ship bound for Venom. And the cargo…you’re never going to believe this… it’s---“

     “It’s a slave ship,” Birse muttered, finishing his teammate’s sentence. A few moments of silence ensued, broken only by the creaking and groaning of the ship's hull. Birse had never seen anything like the scene in front of him, and it started to make him nauseous. The smell of the hundreds of people packed into an enclosed area with no bathroom didn't help.

     “But why would Venom risk this?” Forte asked, backing out of the room. “What do they need slave labor for?”

     Birse slowly shook his head. “What the hell is going on…?”