*AuthorÕs Note*
	Well, Haran has the potential to be in another story, so here he is, 
wether you like it or not.  Haran Goresins, Shivan Tresley, Maxwell 
Poland, Ramon, the Sapphire Paladins, the Justice Cadets, the Crimson 
Firehawks, Drake Questia, and Lucille Nothrana are my characters.  Dar 
Mansfield is created by Nakar Gabab and not to be used without his 
consent.  You want Amy Johnson in one of your stories?  E-mail her first.  
Thanks again to Zerofox, for helping me on ShivanÕs Vitrian language. 

Chapter One

	ÒAt times, I wonder if Lucille and Gregory would ever forget their petty 
differences, forgive each other, and become like family.  Most often, I 
doubted that.Ó
						--Private Westly Meenat, Sapphire Paladins

	The Crima Caves was a place in Katina that was too remote to be a 
popular spot and was for the most part, unexplored.  It has about a dozen 
cave entrances, several of them leading to large pools of hot springs and 
others leading into complex, long passageways that snake through the 
underground like an ant colony.  Because of the lack of knowledge of the 
caves by the public, it was rarely visited, and was even forgotten by 
most people.
	That was why Haran Goresins had the Caves to be his hideout.  The 
Anti-Cat League that he presides over thrives in secrecy, and the caves 
were a shoo-in for a site for headquarters.  Still, it would be 
temporary.  While it would be tolerable to live in such a place, there 
was yet another hideout being built in Titania.  
	It has been two weeks since the Justice Cadets had somehow found the 
location of the A.C.L. hideout under Corneria City, and though Haran and 
two of his most powerful followers had escaped, hundreds of bombs were 
captured, and the Siamese catÕs plans were deeply hampered.  For now, 
Haran was safe in the Caves, but he had increased security in the area, 
in case more intruders would burst in and try to ruin his party.  
Hundreds of bombs were still in the storage areas in the Caves, and Haran 
still have the funds that were given to him by sponsors through 
blackmail.  The Crima Caves may not be a place to live for years to come, 
but itÕs home, and Haran would be very upset if he would have to escape 
again and retreat to the unfinished hideout in Titania.
	
	Haran rubbed his mittens together bitterly as he awaited dinner.  The 
Banquet Room was smaller than the one he had under Corneria City, but 
thanks to Mother Nature, it was more glamourous.  Stalagmites pop up from 
the ground shaping like small volcanoes, some narrower than others.  The 
stalactites hung from the ceiling of the rock-hard room, brittle and 
hard, sparkling in light blue, dull tan and orange, and pearl white.  In 
some areas of the rooms, the carbonate of lime had formed irregularly 
shaped columns, some too thick for even Ramon, the burly wolf that serves 
as HaranÕs bodyguard, to fully wrap his arms around.  It was a beautiful 
place, but what made it glamourous was the fact that nature had built it.

	Haran however, wasnÕt paying attention to the beauty surrounding him.  A 
maple wood table, half the size of the one he used to have, was stationed 
in front of him, decorated with a silk white cloth and the normal plates 
and silverware.  A candle decorated the center of the table, and Haran 
sat on a large, cushioned chair, Ramon standing behind him as always like 
a statue.
	The white-furred Siamese cat blew on his paws to keep them warm, and 
muttered a curse.  Ever since he was forced to escape from his Corneria 
City hideout thanks to the Justice Cadets, he was bitter about his plans 
of the complete extermination of all domestic cats being foiled, and 
though he still has his organization, the road to his religious goal 
would have much more potholes than he wanted.  Of course he wanted to get 
revenge on the Cadets, but the question still remains:  How did those 
bounty hunters find the hideout in the first place?  A chance of luck?  A 
spy told them?  A traitor pretending to serve him did the deed?  
	A turtle waiter came and laid the meal in front of the cat.  ÒHere you 
go, Great One.  Buttered tornab crab with a dash of jalape–o pepper 
powder, red milk, bracka beans, and cinnamon crescent rolls,Ó he said as 
the steamy dinner reached the catÕs nostrils, soothing him.  ÒDo you 
request anything more, Great One?Ó
	Haran shook his head, smiling.  ÒNo, this is enough.  Have Maxwell 
reported here yet?Ó
	ÒNo, I havenÕt even seen him for the past several days.Ó
	ÒWhat about Shivan?Ó
	ÒShe might be back tonight.  IÕve heard sheÕs coming home.Ó
	Haran grinned.  Even waiters were useful in gathering information.  
ÒGood.  Be gone now.Ó
	The waiter bowed a salute and promptly left.  Haran sighed deeply.  
Maxwell Poland has been busy in Fortuna Base, keeping a check on future 
cat victims due to lack of computers to trace their locations.  The 
collie was expected to be back soon though.  Shivan Tresley has been away 
in Zoness for a while, doing the same duty Maxwell was doing.  The 
part-Vitrian speaking caracal was the only one of the four with real 
power in the A.C.L. not to be in the hideout when the Justice Cadets 
intruded in.  She was busy kicking Katt MonroeÕs tail at the time.  He 
made another sigh before digging in his meal.  Hopefully, the A.C.L. 
would grow back after being snipped in two, and the cats of the Lylat 
System would once again be threatened to live in fear.  
	When he was finishing his meal, a caracal came inside, a thick brown 
coat concealing her striking figure.  The yellow eyes of hers were 
gleaming under the light of several light bulbs hung on the ceiling, the 
electricity supplied by a generator.  She grinned upon meeting her boss, 
and sat down on a chair next to him.
	ÒWe meet again, Shivan.  How was your trip?Ó
	Shivan Tresley shook her head.  ÒHola.  Well, four of the targets have 
moved to other places again.  The rest stayed put.  On the way here, I 
have thought up an excellent strategy plan.Ó
	ÒReally?Ó Haran asked, his blue eyes boring into her mind.  ÒWhat is it, 
then?Ó
	ÒAquas is the only planet we havenÕt struck yet, havenÕt we?  I know we 
have just started attacking Venom-controlled areas, but I say that we 
leave Aquas alone, or rather we pretend to do so.  We should do the same 
with Fortuna.Ó
	ÒNow why would we do something like that?Ó
	ÒWell, think about it, Haran.  Those four cats that I told you about had 
moved away to another spot in fear.  Whenever they feel insecure in their 
homes, they pack up their bags lightly and get their stinking tails out 
of the place.  Now, if we increase the bombings in Venom, Corneria, 
Katina, Zoness, Macbeth, and Titania, the cats would be so afraid that 
they would panic and migrate to the only places that they thought would 
be safe.Ó
	Haran chuckled.  ÒAquas and Fortuna.  Of course!  Both of those planets 
are the most desolate planets around, with little space for suitable 
living!  Please...go on....Ó
	ÒBut arenÕt you already getting what IÕm thinking about?Ó
	Haran smiled.  ÒYou know I like to hear your voice.Ó
	Shivan nodded.  Haran loved the Vitrian-accent she has.  ÒGracias.  
Since Fortuna has few spots of civilization, the migrating cats would be 
crowded together, and Aquas only has eight stations underwater which 
people could live in, and that would be crowded as well.  Space stations 
are an option to them, but we will be bombing those areas as well.  They 
wonÕt migrate in swarms overnight, but if we have the luck, it will 
happen.  At last count, there are two and a half million domestic cats 
living in the Lylat System.  Our latest stock reports claim that we have 
only four hundred bombs completed.  This plan would kill a maximum number 
of cats with a minimum use of bombs.  Suena como un buen plan, no es 
asi?Ó
	Haran was still trying to learn the language, but he took a hint on what 
she had said.  ÒIt does sound like a good plan.  An old military trick, I 
believe.  But wonÕt the public gets suspicious when the areas in Fortuna 
and Aquas are the only ones not to be affected?Ó
	ÒHmmm.....tienes un punto en esto.  Well, we could bomb a few places in 
those planets, but we should take it slow there.  In fact, if some of 
your members fail to kill any cats in those areas, donÕt punish them.  
But do that in secret, for it might send a wrong message to the other 
members.  I have my faith that this would work.Ó
	ÒAnd I have my faith and trust on your counsel.  I accept your plan, 
Shivan.  By golly, if it worked, there will be a catastrophe at hand!Ó
	Shivan laughed, dripping with evil.  ÒA bloodbath would be more likely!Ó

	The two laughed together, the echoes making them sound even more 
hideous.  Even Ramon, overhearing their conversation, had joined in the 
fray.          
         
Chapter Two

	ÒThis time, we shall succeed.  The time to achieve my goal that the Gods 
had given me grows near!Ó
							--Haran Goresins, leader of A.C.L.
	
	The ten Protector-class jet pilots knew that they would face opposition 
when they crept inside Sector Z space in a scouting mission, so they were 
alert and ready when their radar spotted four jets in attack formation 
hurling toward them.  The leader, a lion captain named Samuel, saw the 
Venomian jets through his transparent canopy to his right.
	ÒThree Invader-4 jets coming at 3:00, but I canÕt identify the one at 
front.  Looks like a bi-plane,Ó he said, confused.  The bluish jet in 
front seemed to be custom-made, and though it has the design of planes 
long gone, it looked deadly.  The Invader-4 jets followed it in a 
V-formation, with two jets on the right of the bluish one.  ÒLasers to 
full power!  LetÕs take them on, boys!Ó
	The ten jets turned and faced the four jets head-on, their 
trigger-fingers itching for excitement and the chance to add a kill on 
their list.  They set themselves up in a straight line, one beside the 
other, and said their quick-second prayers.
	Amy Johnson, flying her new jet, the Sunlaser, in front of the 
Invader-4's, laughed confidentially as her blue eyes watched the oncoming 
Protector jets.  ÒThereÕs only ten of them.  We can take them.  Am I 
right, Paladins?Ó
	Westly Meenat, the only one flying on AmyÕs right, whooped a war cry, 
reeking with cockiness, as usual.  ÒRight you are, Sky!Ó  The doberman 
yelled, calling her by her nickname.  ÒThereÕs nothing that can stop me 
now!  Not even Fox can bring me down!Ó
	Nedra Benson shook her head.  ÒYou havenÕt even fought him, Westly!Ó  
The greyhound barked.  ÒNot even close to it!Ó
	ÒOh Nedra, I will, I will!  I can beat him blindfolded!Ó
	The only pilot not trying to join in the pre-dogfight cries, Gregory 
Nothrana, checked his radar.  ÒLasers charged to full power.  We will 
fire at your command, MaÕam!Ó
	Amy chuckled.  ÒA few more seconds........attack!!Ó
	Lethal lasers poured out from their guns, and the beams of light hurled 
themselves at the Protector jets.  A yellow laser smacked into the right 
wing of one of the jets, destroying it completely.  The jets scrambled, 
firing back.  Samuel set his sights on AmyÕs unique jet, and his barrage 
of lasers managed to strike her left wing, but the strong-shielded 
Sunlaser barely flinched as it passed below him.   Letting her go for 
now, he swerved right and aimed his guns at Nedra.
	Meanwhile, the greyhound shot down a Protector when Samuel came up 
behind her, and when her alarm beeped a warning that he was charging his 
homing laser, she muttered a curse.  ÒSomeone get that guy behind me!  
Now!Ó
	She was answered by Westly swooping down in front of her, his lasers 
passing just above her jet.  The lasers manage to collide against Samuel, 
and though the lionÕs jet wasnÕt destroyed, the homing laser deteriorated 
into nothingness as he suddenly turned left distractedly.       	Nedra 
made a quick nod of appreciation.  ÒThanks, Westly!Ó
	ÒNo problem!  IÕm always willing to help out on those dependant on me!Ó  
Was the dobermanÕs reply, shooting down another Protector.
	Though Amy had always believed in the belief that it takes skill to make 
a pilot great and not the jet itself, having a superior jet like the 
Sunlaser would be devastating, as the remaining Protector pilots quickly 
found out.  They uttered out in surprise when they noticed the bluish jet 
making near impossible quick turns and flips, and some of them found just 
how deadly those yellow lasers it fires the hard way. 
	The eighth Protector had been shot down, and Samuel gave the order to 
retreat.  Westly and Amy however refused to let them get away, and gave 
chase.  As Nedra and Gregory watched, the doberman splattered his lasers 
on his target, and the explosion was the pleasing result.  Amy grinned 
when the targeting screen beeped, cuing her that her target has been 
locked.  With ease, the yellow lasers zoomed through space and struck 
SamuelÕs main engines.  The lion screamed as he spiraled, and finally an 
explosion ended his life.
	ÒWhoo-hoo!Ó Westly yelled.  ÒThat was quick and easy!  Just the way I 
like it!  Ha, ha!Ó
	Amy chuckled.  ÒYeah, but someday we will be begging for a challenge.  
Maybe weÕll get the chance against the Justice Cadets, or maybe even 
Starfox.Ó
	ÒStarfox is indeed our enemy,Ó Gregory reported with his serious voice.  
ÒBut we should remind ourselves that we lack the experience and skill 
that they have.  Overconfidence will doom us.Ó
	ÒThatÕs your opinion,Ó Westly replied.  ÒOverconfidence hasnÕt failed me 
yet!Ó
	ÒPlease empathize on the word, ÔyetÕ, Westly,Ó Nedra warned.  ÒItÕs 
dangerous to hurl yourself against a squadron alone thinking that you can 
actually take them on.  ItÕs suicidal actually.  ItÕs okay to be humble 
once in a while, Private.Ó
	ÒWell, I have never tasted humble pie before.  IÕm too good for that.  
Maybe IÕll give some to Fox McCloud.  He needs to eat some,Ó Westly said, 
followed by laughter.
	ÒThis mission is sent in the accomplished files.  LetÕs go home, 
Paladins,Ó Amy said finally, and they turned their jets and accelerated 
toward Venom.

Chapter Three

	ÒThough I am irritated by his extreme cockiness, what really makes me 
nervous was that he has love interests toward my sister.  If he goes on a 
date with her, then I will predict nothing but heartbreak for him.  I 
will not tolerate them being in some relationship with each other.Ó
				--Sergeant Gregory Nothrana, on his sister Lucille and Westly

	Ramon liked this part of his job.  
	The burly wolf was dragging a raccoon across the grass near the cave 
entrances, the poor member protesting and screaming.  They stepped into a 
cave, and once inside, Ramon threw him into the rock-hard floor.  The 
cave was a small one, a dead end due to a large pool of boiling hot 
spring water in the back.  There was a single stalagmite, shaping like a 
narrow cone on the floor, shining gray and tan brown.  The stalactite 
above it was broken off, showing only a stump on the ceiling.  It was a 
remote cave, far from any law enforcement authorities.  It was almost the 
perfect place for a murder.
	The raccoon, only at age nineteen, whimpered as he crawled away from the 
wolf, and leaned against a wall.  ÒPlease......have mercy on me.....Ó
	ÒYou have failed the Great One, Vincent.  You will die for that.  He 
doesnÕt tolerate failures like you,Ó Ramon replied cold-heartedly, 
walking toward him.  
	ÒIt was a dud!  The bomb didnÕt work right!  It wasnÕt my fault!Ó
	ÒYou should have checked the bomb before you planted it.  Failure to do 
so makes you a fool.  I hate fools,Ó he snarled, grabbing the raccoonÕs 
collar.  With a mighty heave, he lifted the much lighter raccoon off his 
feet, and their muzzles almost touched each other.  
	Still, Vincent was desperate to get a second chance.  ÒPlease....donÕt 
kill me.Ó
	ÒI have orders to obey, Vincent.  Farewell.  I will see you in Hell.Ó  
Ramon then let go one paw off the collar, and grabbed the raccoonÕs belt.  
Using his massive strength, the wolf lifted Vincent above his head, and 
held him up like a log.  Growling, he ignored the screams of the raccoon 
and walked to the right spot, keeping his victim above his head with 
ease.  He went a couple steps before halting, and with a mighty roar, 
threw down Vincent back-first onto the ground.  
	A sickening thud was heard as the raccoonÕs back collided against the 
lone stalagmite, and crimson liquid gushed out from his chest, staining 
the entire uniform of the dead carcass and parts of RamonÕs grinning 
face.  The dead brown eyes stared at the ceiling, and he seemed to be 
floating in mid-air, the peak of the stalagmite poking out of the chest.  
Blood streaked across his arms, dripping down from still fingers.  The 
cave became loud with RamonÕs laugher.  Then, he was silenced when he 
spotted a figure on the cave entrance.  
	Ramon snarled at the black-footed ferret.  He was wearing a black suit 
with a white trench coat to brave the chilly weather outside.  He had a 
pistol, but the ferret didnÕt seem to intend to use it....for now.  He 
looked at VincentÕs bloody mess, and shook his head.  
	ÒIs that really necessary?  I mean Haran gave you the bullet back in the 
main room; itÕs just impractical to drag him all the way to here.  
Shooting him is cheaper,Ó the ferret said cooly.   
	Ramon was shocked to find that this ferret had known about Haran and 
what had happened in that room, but he didnÕt show it.  ÒI like to be 
creative, ferret.Ó
	ÒOh please, call me Dar.  I do have a name, after all.  Well, I can just 
shoot you, but IÕm bored, and just shooting people sounds so old.  IÕve 
heard that you can give Tigress Mondale a challenge, Ramon.Ó
	ÒHow do you know my name?Ó
	ÒI have my sources,Ó Dar replied, taking off his trench coat.  He threw 
it next to a stone wall, and watched the burly wolf challengingly.  
ÒWell, letÕs see if that reputation suits you, shall we?Ó
	Ramon laughed.  ÒYou?  Fight me?  YouÕre nothing but a scrawny little 
wimp!Ó
	ÒAnd youÕre nothing but a dumb wolf with more muscles than brains.  In 
fact, didnÕt Lizbel Crusasa beat you one time?Ó
	ÒI donÕt know how you know that, but thatÕs a secret that you will hold 
to your grave!Ó
	ÒWhat makes you think IÕm the only one who knows about that?Ó
	RamonÕs eyes burned with fury.  ÒEnough talk!  Die!!!Ó  And with that, 
he charged at the ferret that was half his size, his paws balled into 
fists, growling deep in his throat.  He threw the first punch, but Dar 
side-stepped and laid a boot heel to the massive wolfÕs stomach.  Dar 
already knew about RamonÕs quick counter-attacks, so he leaped away just 
as a large furry fist thrust the area that he was in a second before.  
	Dar bounded behind the slower wolf and struck a boot at the nape of his 
knee.  Wolf toppled backwards, and fell back-first.  However, he rolled 
away suddenly and stood up quickly, and faced the ferret, still growling.

	For a bulky fellow, you sure are quick, Dar thought.  He charged forward 
and pounded several punches on RamonÕs face.  The wolf was partly fazed, 
but counter-attacked, and the ferret groaned as a power-packed punch 
landed on his muzzle.  He then gave him another punch and attempted to 
grab him by the shoulders.  Dar was too quick this time, ducking under 
his arms and laid a boot on his side with an arch-kick.  He bounded onto 
another spot and leaped high, and with a kick to the chest, stumbled 
Ramon onto the stone wall.  Trapped against the wall, Ramon suffered blow 
after blow as Dar relentlessly attacked him with his quite devastating 
blows.  
	Gathering enough sense, Ramon suddenly grabbed DarÕs shoulders and 
effortless shoved him back.  With his head bowed, he charged at him like 
a raging bull, and struck him head-on his stomach.  Ramon grasped him and 
lifted him, still running.  Dar was carried backwards across the cave, 
and a loud thud rang into his ears as his back collided against the wall.  
He screamed momentarily in pain, then was dropped down as the wolf 
released him.  Now it was RamonÕs turn to do the punching.  Dar groaned 
and grunted as his head was being pounded right to left by massive fists 
of fury.  He finally saw one punch coming and ducked quickly.  The fist 
flew above him and smacked against the wall.  Ramon yelled instantly, 
holding his sore paw.
	Dar came up behind him and gave him a leg-sweep that toppled the bigger 
fighter down, but before he could take the advantage, Ramon grabbed his 
right leg and threw him backwards.  The ferret landed head-first, the 
stone almost knocking him out.  Still, they stood up simultaneously, and 
circled around, facing each other.  Both were wounded, their clothes 
stained with blood.  Ramon was breathing hard, his right eye closed to a 
mere squint.  Dar was a little better off, but not noticeably.  His sore 
spine was becoming a bother to the ferret spy.
	Dar lurched a boot forward, but Ramon caught it, pulled Dar closed, and 
grabbed his shirt and pants.  With a mighty heave, he lifted Dar off his 
feet and threw him like a rag doll.  Dar once again was struck back-first 
against the wall, and appeared to be knocked out cold.  He leaned against 
the wall in a sitting position, his head limply hung forward.  Ramon 
chuckled, and walked over to him, thinking victorious thoughts.
	ÒYou lose,....Ó Ramon gasped between breaths close to the ferretÕs face.  
Dar immediately went back to life literally and with a pawful of rock 
dust, threw the sand up RamonÕs face.  The wolf leaped back, yelling and 
screaming, covering his eyes.  Just before he could see clearly again, he 
was struck several times in the face by a flashing ferret that had used 
one of the oldest tricks in the book.  However, this time, Dar 
underestimated his opponentÕs quick recovery ability, and was suddenly 
grabbed again.  Dar was lifted up his feet again, a rather common 
occurrence in this fight, but Ramon never intended to throw him against 
the wall this time.  He positioned his paws against DarÕs spine, and 
squeezed in a bear-hug move.  
	Dar struggled to break free, but his already sore spine was shooting 
pain darts up his brain in massive amounts, and whenever he tried to move 
fiercely, RamonÕs grip went tighter.  Dar was thinking like he was a 
flimsy board on a fence, and some muscle animal was pushing against the 
middle of it, and the board was being held by two nails that refused to 
budge.  Dar tried to lean to the right as much as he could, and tried 
desperately to wring his left arm free.  After several attempts, the arm 
broke out from the pain sandwich, and Dar gouged the wolfÕs eyes.  
	Dar was released, and Ramon roared in pain and frustration.  He 
retreated again, and his feet were almost to the edge of the hot spring 
pool that made up most of the back end of the cave.  Dar stood, gasping 
for breath.  NowÕs the time to finish this.  
	Dar forced a grin.  ÒYou may think youÕre good.....,Ó he said, the words 
broken between heavy breaths.  ÒBut thereÕs always someone tougher.Ó
	Ramon growled, not knowing the vulnerable position he was in.  ÒThat 
also applies to you too, punk!Ó
	With a final battle cry, Dar ran to his bigger enemy, and leaped.  Ramon 
looked up and was struck on the chest by a fierce kick.  Ramon, in 
surprise, stepped back, for the last time.
	When his large foot stepped into the pool, the fight was over.  He made 
a blood curling scream as he splashed back-first onto the boiling water 
of the pool, his fur being stung and burned in mere seconds.  Dar 
retreated to avoid being splashed, relieved that the fight was over.  
Ramon gasped for breath one more time before going under.  A series of 
bubbles rippled the water, then all was silent, except for DarÕs 
breathing.
	Darvis Mansfield smiled again.  ÒYou may be right,Ó he said as he picked 
up his trench coat.  ÒBut not today.Ó  He stood still, his paw laying on 
his sprained back.  ÒI got to remind myself never to let anyone get a 
bear hug move on me again.  Ugh, my back.......Ó
	He limped out of the cave, donning his coat.  Another mission 
accomplished for the black-footed ferret.

Chapter Four

	ÒMy personal bodyguard.....lost.  Someday I will find out just who 
killed him.  I will have that moronÕs head.Ó
								--Haran Goresins, leader of A.C.L.

	ÒFull House!Ó  Westly exclaimed in the private rec-room of the Sapphire 
Paladins in Venom HQ Base.  He threw down his cards on the table, seemly 
victoriously, and whooped a joyful cry.  Amy chuckled, already folding.  
Lucille Nothrana had only two poker chips left and was seemly out of the 
game.  Nedra was the only one that hadnÕt shown her cards yet.
	Westly however was confident, which was no surprise to the others.  ÒHa!  
Beat that, Nedra!  IÕm going to beat you, greyhound!  IÕm going to win!  
IÕm going to-Ó
	The doberman was silenced suddenly when he noticed a smug look on 
NedraÕs face.  She laid down her cards, smiling.  ÒStraight Flush.  Read 
Ôem and weep, doberman.Ó
	Westly groaned suddenly, and dumbly watched Nedra shove her winnings 
into her growing pile of chips.  ÒAnyone for another game?Ó she said in a 
taunting voice.
	Amy pretended to yawn.  She had only fifteen chips left.  ÒIÕm getting 
tired, Nedra.  I need to hit the sack soon.Ó
	Nedra looked at her watch.  ÒBut itÕs only 9:00, Amy.Ó
	ÒI need to go to the drug store, to get some more migraine pills.  Then, 
IÕm going to sleep,Ó the small-stature snow leopard answered and stood 
up.  She quickly waved and left the room in a hurry, taking what was left 
of her chips with her.
	It was LucilleÕs turn to leave NedraÕs House of Gambling Embarrassment, 
since she had almost all of her share depleted and added to NedraÕs pile.  
The lavishing jaguar, a complete opposite of her militaristic brother, 
stood up, her mind pondering for some excuse to leave.  Never the one to 
wear a uniform, she was donned in red and white civilian clothes, and 
there was a golden heirloom, given to her by her aunt, fastened on the 
shirt just below her neck.  Her flaming red hair flowed freely behind 
her, shining majestically (in WestlyÕs eyes) under the ceiling lights.  
ÒNot this time, Miss Benson.  I have to go to work pretty soon for the 
9:30 shift.Ó
	Nedra grinned, seeing her true intentions to leave.  ÒWe still have 
time. If you donÕt want to play anymore, you can watch WestlyÕs remaining 
share of chips magically disappear and show up on top of my pile.Ó
	ÒSorry, but I canÕt stand to see Westly losing like this anymore.  
Westly, do you have any spare time later in the hour?Ó
	Westly nodded.  ÒI have all the time for you, Lucille.  Why you ask?Ó
	ÒIÕm not sure yet.  I just wanted to talk to you.  In the library at 
10:00?Ó
	ÒSure.Ó
	ÒThanks,Ó she said, and walked away.  
	When it was only Nedra and Westly left in the room, the greyhound 
chuckled as she shuffled the cards.  ÒYou love her, donÕt you?Ó
	ÒI have been giving you clues ever since I met her a month ago, and you 
still donÕt know?  Now thatÕs sad.Ó
	ÒYou know Gregory is not going to like that.Ó
	ÒSo what?  I donÕt give a hoot about how he feels about me dating her.  
He should just butt out of her life, and not irritate her with his views 
of honor above family.  Look, as a co-pilot, I like Gregory.  I watch his 
back and he watches mine.  We trust each other.  But personally, heÕs not 
the type that I would want to have a best friend with.  HeÕs too 
narrow-minded, militaristic, loyal, dull, and his booming, firm voice 
gets on my nerves.  There were some days that if I hear ÔSirÕ and ÔMaÕamÕ 
one more time, I would scream.  However, what I hate most about him was 
his stubbornness and not willing to bridge the gap between him and his 
sister.  If you ask me, family and friends should be first, and then 
comes honor and loyalty and stuff like that.Ó
	Nedra shrugged.  ÒWell, still, Gregory is not going like you dating his 
own sister.  I will bet that he will try to stop it.Ó
	ÒWell, knowing your luck, I know he will do that.  Are you done 
shuffling yet?Ó
	Nedra made a mocking face of surprise.  ÒWhat, you want to lose your 
chips quicker?  Is that why youÕre so impatient?Ó
	Westly rolled up his eyes.  ÒI will win this time!  Just deal the cards, 
lady!Ó
	At that same time, in another room, a Venomian soldier was watching the 
news.  An aardvark reporter wearing a mask of worry was on the screen, 
reading off an out-of-view monitor.  ÒFor the past three days, there has 
been a dramatic rise in terrorist attacks in both Venominan and Cornerian 
territories.  Only Fortuna and Aquas had been given a decline of attacks, 
but just an hour ago, a bomb in Aquas Station #9 had exploded, killing 
four domestic cats and injuring two others.  The Anti-Cat League is the 
main suspect in these cases.  Drake Questias, the Chief of Police of 
Corneria City, stated that his force are still trying their best to hunt 
the A.C.L. members down, but the public, according to a recent poll, 
wanted him out of office.  As for the Justice Cadets, they have been 
joined with another four-member squadron and continue on with their hunt 
for the hideout of the A.C.L.  The identity of ÔDar MansfieldÕ, who had 
given the Cadets the location of the A.C.L. hideout in Corneria City, is 
still yet to be known.  In other news......Ó

	The library in Venom HQ Base was a large one, with fifteen tables, a few 
dozen shelves of books, and a statue of Andross, adorned with ivory and 
gold, watched over the place on the back side of the library.  An 
assorted number of soldiers and civilians were in the library, either 
reading, studying, quietly chatting, or just loitering around.  On the 
right side of the room, in the History Section, Lucille Nothrana was 
putting books back on the shelf when Westly came by as appointed.  She 
had her job as library-assistant ever since the days when she had just 
been kicked out by her controlling parents, and she loved it so much that 
she probably couldnÕt afford to lose it.  
	Her yellow eyes gleamed when she saw the doberman coming.  ÒHello 
Westly!  Glad you could make it.  You win against Miss Lady Luck?Ó
	Westly chuckled at what she had called Nedra.  ÒNope.  Lost all my chips 
again.  But I wonÕt give up!  You can count on it!Ó
	ÒYouÕre not the kind to give up, Westly.  I admire that in you.Ó
	ÒWhy you want to see me?Ó
	ÒWell, IÕm getting off shift in a few minutes.  IÕm wondering if you 
will like to join me for a quick snack at the V-Bar soon.  I just want 
someone to talk to.Ó
	Westly couldnÕt believe his eyes.  ÒReally?  Sure, I will join you!Ó
	Lucille gleamed.  ÒGood!  Just let me finish putting these books away, 
and once I get off shift, weÕll go.Ó
	Westly nodded in agreement.  It took a month, but it seemed that this 
may be a start to a relationship.
	The V-Bar was located in the eastern side of the base, close by one of 
the main garages.  As a result, you couldnÕt get inside without first 
hearing the constant pounding and drilling noises intruding through the 
walls from the garage.  To keep the bar in business, the walls were 
sound-proof.  It was an average-sized place, with a counter, a monitor 
phone booth, and fourteen tables, all of them with two chairs each.  On 
the back wall were four panels of glass that stretches from ceiling to 
floor, giving customers a good view of mountains in the distance, on 
clear days of course.
	Lucille and Westly sat on one of the tables next to the windows.  There 
were no one else there except for the bartender restocking his shelves.  
ÒSo, what to do you want to talk about, Lucille?Ó
	ÒWell, yesterday I had a dream about me when I was young.  It was very 
brief, but it was so horrible that I woke up with cold sweat.Ó
	ÒWhat happened?Ó  Westly replied, sipping his strawberry cordial.  
	Lucille had her paw wrapped around her glass of whiskey, but she wasnÕt 
in the mood to drink it for now.  ÒWell, itÕs a true flashback.  I was 
only eight at the time, living with Gregory and my parents in Titania.  I 
fell down when I tripped over a loose tile and scraped my knee.  My 
father and Gregory were in the same room, and I was bawling my lungs out.  
I cried and cried, holding my bleeding knee in pain.  I was crying out to 
my Dad and Gregory to help me.  But they refused.Ó
	ÒRefused?  They just sat there?Ó
	ÒWell, Gregory was about the same age as I am, and I remember him asking 
his father for permission to help me.Ó
	Westly drew back his head in shock.  ÒPermission?Ó
	Lucille shrugged.  ÒThatÕs my Dad alright.  I think he enjoys raising 
his son to be a zombie and make him totally dependant on him like a 
subject to a god.  Anyway, my father refused permission, and Gregory 
stayed put.  Just like that.  If he cared for me, he would have objected, 
but he didnÕt even raise one finger.  Dad then came up to me, his eyes 
burning with anger.  ÔLucille!  Crying makes you look weak!  You must 
brave the pain to survive in this cruel galaxy!Õ he said as I lay on the 
floor in pain.  Then he used that black leather boot of his and kicked me 
on the wound on my knee.Ó
	ÒWhy did he do that for?Ó
	ÒPunishment, he claimed.  Just for crying.  ThatÕs when I woke up.Ó
	Westly sighed, laying down on his cordial almost angrily.  ÒYour father 
is a creep, seems like.  Did you leave because you hated him?Ó
	ÒWell, thatÕs when I have mixed feelings about.  You see, my Dad is a 
creep alright.  He has abused me more than once, often with a cane that 
he sometimes uses due to a minor war injury on his right leg.  HeÕs a 
perfectionist also.  Once, he forbade me to wear one of my favorite 
shirts to a hangout place of mine because it had a small hole on the 
bottom of the shirt.  Just a tiny one, barely noticeable.  He also dumps 
food on my plate even when I donÕt ask for it, and when I protest, he 
orders me to eat it, even when the food just happens to be one that I 
hate, and he knows it.  HeÕs a control freak, and he also demands that my 
friends meet him so that they would ÔdeserveÕ to be a friend of his 
daughter.Ó
	ÒBut.......Ó
	ÒBut heÕs my father.  Half of his blood is in me.  ThatÕs something I 
cannot deny.  His blood is like poison, and IÕm suffering from itÕs 
effects by harsh memories, and by creating a large gap between me and my 
brother that is impossible to bridge.Ó
	ÒDonÕt lose that faith, Lucille.  That gap will be bridged.Ó
	ÒWell, donÕt tell me about it.  GregoryÕs the one that keeps burning the 
bridge down.  He hates me so much that he once slapped me when I objected 
to my father.Ó
	ÒHe slapped you?Ó  Westly asked, shocked.  Gregory wasnÕt one to express 
even anger, much less slap even his own sister.
	ÒIt was during my last months under DadÕs care.  I was 14, and my 
hormones were acting crazy and all.  My Dad knew I was a wild one, always 
trying to break rules and out of the house most of the day, even night.  
One day, Dad was shopping when he spotted me flirting with a handsome 
hunk of a leopard, and when I was away, he confronted the guy.  Dad 
grilled him with warnings and questions, as well as insults.  I never saw 
that leopard again afterwards.  When I realized what Dad had done later 
that day, I came up to him in the bedroom demanding to know why he had 
done it.  It was then when Gregory came in.  I ignored him and I went 
right into DadÕs face and said, ÔYou have no right to do thatÕ.  Dad 
freaked out, and shoved me back.  I fell on the carpet, and stayed put.  
Dad went over to Gregory and gave him a choice.  Gregory would either 
slap me for punishment, or show his devotion to his sister by helping me 
up and walk away.Ó
	At that, Lucille sipped a barely noticeable amount of the whiskey, then 
took a deep breath and continued on.  ÒWhen Gregory looked down at me, I 
feared the worst.  I already knew that to him, I was a bad apple to 
society, and not to be sympathized.  However, when he helped me up, I was 
surprised.  I actually grinned at him, for I thought he would take the 
choice of walking away.Ó
	ÒThen he slapped you?Ó
	Lucille nodded.  ÒRight across my face.  His claws scarred my right 
side, and the wounds didnÕt heal till a few weeks later.  Come to think 
of it, that was one of the last times he actually touched me.  After I 
left the family for good, he rarely even bumps me in a hallway.Ó
	ÒDo you hate your brother or father more?Ó
	ÒWell, my father, for Gregory never really have the chance of knowing 
that what my father did was wrong, and he was manipulated from the start.  
However, Gregory is smart enough now that his father really was a creep, 
and it is a good idea to make amends with me.  His stubbornness is the 
reason why I hate him in the first place.Ó
	ÒHow come you didnÕt become like Gregory if you both share the same 
father?Ó
	Lucille seemed to grin.  ÒThatÕs one of the most common questions people 
ask me.  Well, my mother thought I had an instinct to be wild, and my 
father once told me that the Devil himself had possessed me.  That was 
one of his last statements he told me before I left.  Also, Dad didnÕt 
think that I would be a good soldier.  He said I was too weak, as if all 
girls are, and too light-weighted.  So he didnÕt shove military values 
down my throat as much as he did to my brother.Ó
	ÒWhat about your mother?Ó
	ÒOh my mother wasnÕt actually as militaristic as Dad, but then again, no 
one was.  She was more of a supporter to a control-freak than a real 
mother.  SheÕs totally dependant on her husband, and was never allowed to 
make decisions for herself, or to make decisions as a whole.  She was 
quiet, never intervening, and whenever she gets involved, she was always 
standing behind Dad, physically and mentally.  I hated her because she 
never supported me on anything.  She just becomes a relay-person for my 
Dad.  She never taught me any values.Ó
	ÒWhen you left the family for good, who took care of you?Ó
	ÒMy aunt Opaloa.  She was the most kindest jaguar I have ever met.  She 
cared for me like someone should have, and luckily she hates my Dad as 
much as I do.  She hates the military period, saying that they thrive in 
violence, not peace.  I couldnÕt survive in the streets, so I owe my life 
to her.  When I heard that she died of a stroke, I cried for days.Ó
	Westly shook his black and tan head, finishing his beverage.  ÒAre your 
parents still alive?Ó
	Lucille shrugged.  ÒDonÕt know and donÕt care.  They never moved away 
from their Titania home however.  Well, I thank you for coming over.Ó
	Westly grinned.  ÒMy pleasure,Ó he said, standing up along with Lucille.  
ÒI enjoyed talking with you, although all I did was ask personal 
questions.Ó
	The jaguar chuckled.  ÒThatÕs okay, Westly,Ó she answered, and when the 
doberman came up close to her, she allowed it.  ÒI needed to talk to get 
all of that out.  Getting all of that bottled inside me is unhealthy.Ó
	Westly laid a paw on her shoulder delicately, and kissed her soothingly.  
The outside noise became silent to them, and they huddled closer.
	ÒHey!  No kissing here!  Do that in the bedroom!Ó  The bartender barked 
angrily.
	Westly pulled away, startled.  ÒIÕm sorry.  That was a bold move.  Too 
bold.Ó
	ÒThatÕs alright.  Dad would be furious if he finds out I kissed a boy at 
the first date, but I donÕt give a catÕs ass.  In fact, for a cocky 
pilot, you sure are a good kisser.Ó
	Westly chuckled.  ÒWell thank you.  Can we meet here some time soon?  
Maybe we can talk some more.Ó
	Lucille nodded.  ÒThat sounds great.  How about two days from now, at 7?  
I know you got some mission tomorrow.Ó
	ÒYeah.  Escorting a transporter with several generals all the way to 
Outpost 459 near Katina.  Well, farewell, Lucille, brother of Gregory, 
and the wild girl of the Nothrana family,Ó he said jokingly.
	ÒFarewell, Westly, the cockiest and perhaps best pilot of the entire 
Venomian Air Force, and boyfriend of Lucille, wild girl of the Nothrana 
family,Ó Lucille answered with a smile.

Chapter Five

	ÒIÕm so damn good that the only times that I actually suck are when I 
have a beverage and a straw, if you get my meaning.Ó
							--Private Westly Meenat, Sapphire Paladins

	At the crack of dawn, Lucille was putting more books back on the shelves 
in the library.  Since it was a quiet time of the day, Lucille was 
enjoying the quietness that seemed to make the air still.  Along with the 
librarian and two customers, she was the only one in the library, and she 
didnÕt have the hurried feel that she would usually get during a busy 
time of day.  Talking about her past was depressing, but she was right.  
Having all that bottled up inside her was unhealthy.  She in fact became 
much better this morning than usual.  Maybe she could do this more often.  
Maybe even try to talk to Gregory, though at this point, that seemed 
impossible.  
	ÒExcuse me, Miss?Ó
	Lucille turned to face a shorter tabby cat wearing a blue uniform.  The 
cat had orange fur with a dab of black on the top of his muzzle.  ÒYes, 
what is it?Ó
	The cat looked up at one of the book shelves.  ÒSee that white thick 
book up there?Ó
	Lucille spotted the easily noticeable book on the top shelf.  ÒYou want 
me to get that for you?Ó
	ÒYes, please.  Are you tall enough to reach that high?Ó
	Lucille answered his question by extending her long frame and grabbed 
hold of the heavy white book.  She then smiled as she pulled it out and 
gave it to him.  ÒThere you go.Ó
	The cat smiled.  ÒThank you.  A friend of mine wanted to read it.  ItÕs 
about a hero of the Somteriana Wars hundreds of years ago.Ó
	Lucille suddenly became curious.  She had heard about the legendary wars 
when she was in elementary school.  She came up behind the cat and looked 
over his shoulder.  ÒCan I see a little of whatÕs in it?Ó
	The cat shrugged and opened the book.  However, what was inside the book 
was not illustrations, pictures, paragraphs and footnotes.  It was a gray 
device, which was kept inside amid a cut out portion of the book.  As 
soon as the cat opened the book, both he and Lucille never got the chance 
to live another second.  An explosion blasted into the catÕs face, and 
steel darts rammed up his skull, killing him instantly.  Five of the 
steel darts found itÕs way into the face of the jaguar behind him.  
Lucille managed to utter a short scream of pain as the darts smacked her 
face, one of the darts shooting right through the brain, part of it 
exiting the back of her head.  Along with the dead cat, she slumped back, 
smashing against another book shelf, and some of the books tumbled onto 
the ground.  The Book of Death landed with a deadening thud, ending two 
lives and making Haran Goresins reach further into the goal of total cat 
annihilation.

	Two hours later, Gregory, knowing that he had lost his only sibling, was 
in the gym, taking a breather as he sat on the bench, a damp towel on his 
neck.  When he heard the news about his sisterÕs death, he didnÕt weep or 
moan.  He didnÕt shake his head in grief or even refuse to believe that 
his sister had actually died.  He wasnÕt in mourning about it, but he 
failed to show any emotion that he was happy about it either.
	ÒGregory.......Ó
	Hearing his name made the jaguar lift his head and faced the entrance.  
It was Westly, wearing a mask of depression.  The doberman walked over to 
him, and sat beside him.  
	ÒWhat is it, sir?Ó
	ÒYou know about Lucille and her......Ó
	Gregory nodded.  ÒYes, I have, sir.  She died instantly.  No one 
deserved to die slow.  Even her.Ó
	Though Westly knew he hated his sister, almost to the point of 
vengeance, he was surprised at his lack of grief on his voice.  ÒDonÕt 
you feel any sorrow that she died?Ó
	ÒEveryone dies, sir.  ItÕs only a matter of time.  Yes, her death may 
seem tragic, but I know that I must go on living.  If I grieve, then I 
will be distracted from my duties.Ó
	Westly growled slowly.  ÒDuty?  You donÕt care if she lived or died, do 
you?  You donÕt mourn for her.  You donÕt mourn for anybody.  You donÕt 
have a heart, you creep!Ó
	ÒSir, it is wise to keep control of your-Ó
	Westly stood up quickly, silencing the jaguar for a moment.  
ÒGregory,.....when you heard the news earlier, did you ever feel any 
sense of......joy?  That finally, the girl that is your complete opposite 
had died and out of your life forever?Ó
	The doberman was almost taken aback by the jaguarÕs silence.  Gregory 
had always answered a question almost a split second after being asked.  
The feline looked up at him, and nodded.  ÒYes,.....I have.  She caused 
my father great pain and frustration.  To be honest, she deserve to die 
that violently, even though it was instant.Ó
	WestlyÕs top was almost blown.  He covered his face, seemly weeping, but 
it was not of mournful feelings.  It was anger.  Sheer anger.
	ÒSomething wrong, sir?Ó
	Westly looked at him with cold eyes.  ÒDonÕt call me sir.  I have a 
name!Ó
	ÒIt is inappropriate to address-Ó
	The doberman suddenly grabbed him by the collar, forcing him to stand 
up.  His face was within inches from his face, and his breath was hot 
with fury.  ÒCall.....me.....Westly!!Ó
	ÒLay your paws off me, Private!Ó  Gregory shot back, slapping WestlyÕs 
hold off his collar.  Not able to withstand his anger any longer, the 
doberman pushed him, and Gregory was tripped by the bench and fell.  
Growling, Westly dove at him, and they wrestled and tumbled on the floor.  
Westly managed to land a few punches on the jaguarÕs face, but Gregory 
kicked him out.  They stood up, and their eyes met.
	ÒLucille deserves to die?Ó  Westly said, breathing hard already in 
anger.  ÒYouÕre the one that deserves to die, you heartless idiot!Ó
	Westly charged at him, and managed to lay a punch on his stomach.  
Gregory, acting in self-defense, countered with two punches to the dogÕs 
face and then grasped his arm.  He then turned his back on him and threw 
him over his shoulder.  Westly landed hard on the floor, his right ankle 
colliding with a dumbbell.  He screamed in pain as his ankle suffered the 
heavy blow, and just then four guards, along with Nedra, burst inside the 
gym.
	Westly tried to get up despite a sore ankle, but the guards contained 
him.  Nedra came in between the two fighters as well, facing Gregory.  
ÒHey!  Stop it now!Ó
	Never to disobey a direct order, the jaguar calmed down quickly.  Even 
anger would have to step aside and let duty and honor through.  ÒSorry, 
MaÕam, but I was acting in self-defense.Ó
	ÒGo to your quarters right now.  I will deal with you later.  NOW!!!Ó  
Nedra snapped, frustrated and appalled that two of her own co-pilots had 
just fought each other.
	Gregory nodded quickly and left the gym, leaving behind his towel.  
Fuming noticeably, the greyhound faced Westly, whom was standing almost 
on one foot.  The guards were still holding him, but only to support him, 
not to contain him.  
	ÒNedra, he was-Ó
	ÒShut up, Private Meenat!  It is my turn to speak, and you better 
listen!  It is against the rules to fight your own co-pilot, despite the 
reasons!  I know you are sad from LucilleÕs death, but thatÕs no excuse 
to lay a paw on Gregory!  You and Gregory will face the consequences, but 
due to the importance of todayÕs mission, you both will be punished once 
we get back.  Now, I will deal with Gregory, and I need you to calm down 
and prepare for the mission today.  Do I make myself clear?Ó
	Apparently, Nedra wasnÕt in the mood to argue this further, so he gave 
in.  ÒYes, Nedra.Ó
	ÒGood.  Now go to your quarters.  If you ever lay any harm on him, 
believe me, you wonÕt like what I will do to you.  Dismissed!!Ó
	Westly shook off the guardsÕ holds on him, and limped his way out of the 
gym.  Nedra grumbled and shook her head.  My own co-pilots,....fighting 
each other.  Stupid idiots.

	Thankfully, Gregory and Westly had kept quiet as the Sapphire Paladins 
escorted the transporter carrying several important officials to Outpost 
459.  Still, Nedra could have sworn that she heard Westly curse over her 
com-link.  Although she did have a crush toward him, Gregory still had a 
verbal-trashing from the furious greyhound.  Amy did some verbal 
discipline of her own, and forced both Gregory and Westly to never speak 
of LucilleÕs death toward each other again.  She knew that things would 
never be the same with those two again, but at least she hoped things 
would come close back to normal.
	Outpost 459 was one of the most threatening space stations that Corneria 
had to face, mainly due to itÕs position.  Being the only 
Venomian-controlled place in Katina space, it was a thorn to the people 
of Katina and the military alliance of Corneria.  The cigar-shaped 
station was a so-called Òhot spotÓ in the war, being attacked five times 
in the last four months, mostly by the Bulldog and Husky Squadrons.  
Outpost 459 had itÕs defenses lessened by those attacks, but like a 
stubborn mule, it refused to budge and fade away.  Captain Haras, the 
hyena that controlled the station, was said to be an honored official, 
due to the successful resistence against the Cornerian attacks.  
	Amy was in awe as her team approached the station.  Dozens of Invader 
jets, of all four classes, defended the fortress, circling around the 
station like flies.  There were no cargo ships, since this was a military 
station, and eight transporters were docked on the center of the station.  

	ÒAny trouble getting here, Major Johnson?Ó A console officer from the 
station asked her through the com-link.
	ÒNope.  Not one Cornerian jet dared to come against this baby,Ó she 
responded, tapping lightly on the controls of the Sunlaser.  
	ÒThereÕs another mission for you and your team,Ó the console officer 
replied.  ÒThere were reports on radar that the Great Fox was seen 
orbiting Katina.  Andross has ordered the Sapphire Paladins to head to 
Katina and destroy you-know-who.Ó
	Westly gasped in shock, returning to his cocky self.  ÒWhat?  Starfox?  
You mean weÕre going to fight against those losers?!!Ó
	ÒYep,Ó the officer replied.  ÒI guess Emperor Andross was tired of 
Starwolf losing against them all the time, so he decided to let a new 
team pit against the greatest mercenaries in the Lylat System.Ó
	ÒHey!  WeÕre the best team, and donÕt you forget that!Ó  Westly yelled 
back.
	ÒWestly, weÕre an elite team of the Air Force, not mercenaries,Ó Amy 
replied.
	ÒDid I say best mercenaries?  I said the best team!  T-E-A-M!!!!Ó
	ÒYeah, yeah, whatever.  We wonÕt fail Andross!  Sapphire Paladins, 
onward to Katina!Ó
	The doberman, relieved to be out of sadness for now, whooped a war cry.  
ÒAlright!  Fox McCloud is MINE!!!!Ó

Chapter Six

	ÒWestly Meenat is the one pilot that manages to be more cockier than 
Fox.Ó
									--Falco Lombardi, Starfox 

	Fox McCloud was puzzled when he spotted the four jets hurling toward him 
and his team in Katina, just above the Crima Caves.  He recognized three 
of the jets as Invader-4 jets, though he had not fought against them yet 
until now, but it was the blue jet leading them that struck him as 
confusing.
	ÒSlippy, scan that blue jet in front of us.  What exactly is that?Ó
	ÒI-IÕm scanning it now, F-F-Fox,Ó Slippy answered in that pipsqueak 
voice of his.  Fox shook his head.  Maybe he ought to check Mr. ToadÕs 
engines once this battle is over.  Could it be that helium was spewing 
into his cockpit?  If that was the case, then why did he always have that 
voice?
	ÒHurry up, Slip!Ó  Falco barked impatiently.  ÒThe sooner you finish 
what you are supposed to say, the sooner I have wait through your whiny 
voice!Ó
	ÒAlways having his feathers ruffled,....Ó Peppy mumbled.
	ÒI heard that!Ó  Was the avianÕs response.
	ÒItÕs a custom-made jet, guys.  It-ItÕs lasers are j-just as good as our 
hyper lasers, but the main problem we would be f-f-facing would be itÕs 
shields.  ItÕs built like a tank!Ó
	ÒHmmm.....looks like we just have to pour more lasers into it then.  As 
soon as I give the command, I will take the blue jet.  Peppy, you take 
the Invader on itÕs right, and Slippy, you take the left one.  Falco, try 
to shoot down the rear jet.  LetÕs rock and roll, Starfox!Ó

	ÒI have been waiting for this!Ó  Westly said as the two squadrons grew 
closer and closer against each other.  
	ÒKeep in formation, Westly!Ó  Amy commanded.  ÒI donÕt need you to hurl 
yourself alone against them!Ó
	Within only a few hundred yards from each other, Westly couldnÕt resist 
his temptation anymore.  In total disregard of his life, he accelerated 
and sped away from his team, aiming at Fox.
	ÒWestly, you stupid cocky pilot!  Get back here now!Ó
	The doberman ignored NedraÕs order, and geared his lasers to full power.  
Chuckling, he said, ÒFox, I want your last seconds of your life hearing 
the name Westly Meenat!!!!Ó  He fired his lasers at the leader of 
Starfox, and the battle had started.
	Westly soon realized his mistake.  Instantly, he was struck on the right 
wing by FalcoÕs lasers, but he still managed to land one shot at Fox 
before being forced to scramble away, with the avian on his tail.
	Grinning, Amy squeezed the trigger and a downpour of yellow lasers flew 
at FoxÕs arwing.  Fox barrel-rolled, but some of the lasers managed to 
strike home on the jet, rocking Fox to swerve right, and Amy easily 
gotten into his tail, firing away.  
	Gregory, being the less experienced pilot, was in trouble against the 
veteran skills of Peppy Hare.  Even as two minutes swept by, his right 
wing was smoking, under fire.  He swerved right and left, and even 
flipped once, but Peppy managed to stay on his tail, and Gregory knew 
that he would be shot down if he couldnÕt shake him off.  
	With shields at 12% power, Gregory was becoming desperate.  ÒI need some 
help here!  IÕm getting close to being shot down!Ó
	WestlyÕs voice burst in.  ÒAw, I pity you, Gregory!  You have stunk low 
enough to ask for help?  Now thatÕs sad!Ó
	Gregory ignored that remark, and was once again struck from behind.  
Finally, Nedra answered his call and shot a few lasers at the hare.  
Distracted, Peppy turned left, hoping to rebound soon.  However, he was 
never gotten the chance as Nedra suddenly continued on firing on him, 
even as Slippy chased her.
	Now relieved, Gregory spotted Westly in trouble as Falco relentlessly 
let loose a barrage of lasers that raked the dobermanÕs jet.  Although he 
hated Westly, it was duty for him to help his fellow pilot, so he charged 
at Falco.  The avian flinched as several lasers struck his engine, and 
snarled a response as he swerved away, taking a quick breather.  
	ÒHey!  I donÕt need your help, you stupid idiot!Ó  Westly shot back.  
Angrily he flipped and gotten himself behind Gregory.
	Amy spotted that incident as well.  ÒWestly!  What in Venom are you 
doing????Ó
	The snow leopard was answered when the doberman suddenly fired his 
lasers at GregoryÕs ruined jet.  The jaguarÕs engines burst into flame, 
and it was hurling downward toward the ground.  Upon seeing that, Amy 
went into a frenzy, ignoring the fox that she was chasing.  ÒWestly!  How 
could you?!  Why you-Ó
	Amy couldnÕt finish her sentence as Fox suddenly came up behind her and 
fired a nova bomb straight at her.  She screamed as the explosion rocked 
her jet completely, but to FoxÕs amazement, the shields of the Sunlaser 
held, though it was cut in half.  Amy regained control of the jet, but 
when she heard Nedra reporting that her jet was falling apart, she knew 
that this battle wonÕt come to her favor.
	A crash was heard.  Amy looked down to find GregoryÕs jet on the ground, 
burning.  ÒGregory!  Do you read me?!Ó
	She was only answered with static.  ÒDamn it!  Damn it all!Ó
	ÒI have only 13% power on shields left!  We canÕt win at this state!Ó  
Nedra barked as she was rocked by yet another laser.
	Amy muttered another curse.  ÒRetreat!  Back to the Outpost!Ó  She 
yelled at her remaining pilots, and already she was on her way to Outpost 
459.  Nedra quickly followed.
	ÒWhat about Gregory?!Ó  Nedra asked, desperately dodging lasers.
	ÒIf heÕs not dead already, then he can take care of himself!  Now, letÕs 
go!Ó
	ÒNo!  I wonÕt lose!  I will never lose!Ó  Westly shot back, stubbornly 
refusing to retreat.
	ÒWestly!  ItÕs either to go with us or die!  Swallow your pride for 
once!Ó  Amy replied frantically.  She already knew why Westly had shot 
down Gregory, but she still wanted to have yet another verbal-trashing 
session with him in Outpost 459.
	Falco laid another laser onto WestlyÕs engines.  ÒAaaarrrgghhh!!!!  
Alright!  Alright!  IÕm going!  IÕm going!  Damn it!Ó
	The three pilots of the Sapphire Paladins burst off into space, the 
victorious Starfox team on their tails.  On the ground, the canopy of 
GregoryÕs jet clasped off, landing on the grass with a thud.  Coughing 
and his uniform smoking, Gregory Nothrana crawled out, nearly unhurt.
	
	Relieved to be still alive, the jaguar brushed off the smoke off his 
blue uniform, and donned his beret on his head, with the golden hammer 
still fastened on it.  He looked up and spotted the red-colored flames 
coming off the arwings of Starfox almost disappearing in the distance.  
He let out a deep sigh, and spotted a cave thirty yards away.
	There were medical supplies in his jet, but the fires was too much for 
him to stand, so he disregarded them.  He still had his dagger on his 
belt, and the only injury he really had was a small scratch on his left 
leg.  Seeking shelter, he came inside the nearest cave.
	Gregory knew who shot him down.  Although he was burning with hatred, 
his face was still expressionless.  Once inside the cave, he put off his 
beret and laid it on the rocky ground, and sat down by a wall, hoping 
rescue would come soon.
	ÒHola.....Ó
	Gregory stood up with a start, his paw on his dagger.  He looked further 
down the cave and spotted a feline coming toward him.  A possible 
resident of the caves.  The caracalÕs red fur were shining from the 
sunlight coming from behind the jaguar, and her black hair was oily and 
sleek.  She was dressed in a tight-fitting orange shirt that was tucked 
in, and leather black shorts that went down to her knees.  A thick black 
belt went around her slim waist, and the buckle was jeweled with small 
rubles.  However, what caught GregoryÕs eyes was a long dagger that was 
in shape of a scythe, fastened on her belt.  
	He tried not to appear nervous (much easier than you think), and 
straightened his partly ruined uniform.  ÒHello, MaÕam.  Where am I?Ó
	ÒThe Crima Caves.  You some Venomian soldier?Ó
	Knowing that he was in enemy territory, Gregory became more itchy on his 
dagger.  His pistol was left in his burning cockpit.  ÒThat is correct, 
MaÕam.  I have been shot down against Starfox, and my team was forced to 
retreat.  IÕm hoping to be rescued, but at the meantime, IÕm stuck here.Ó

	The caracal snorted.  ÒAhora solos tu y yo.  Si, yo y el idiota parado 
frente au mi,Ó she purred in her native language.  Gregory could only 
respond with a confused look.
	ÒIf you please, communicate in a manner which I can understand, MaÕam.Ó
	ÒNameÕs Shivan, not MaÕam.  Once you know me better, youÕll learn that 
IÕm no MaÕam,Ó the caracal replied, her yellow eyes boring into GregoryÕs 
mind.  ÒSo, Starfox shot you down, but failed to kill you.Ó
	She grinned as she pulled out her scythe-like weapon.  ÒLooks like I 
have to finish where they left off.  Di tus oraciones, jaguar.  Los 
dioses ser‡n tu œltimo faro de esperanza, el cual no es mucho.Ó
	Gregory pulled out his dagger with a whisper, his eyes intent on the one 
that wanted to kill him.  ÒItÕs not wise to go against me.  I do not want 
to fight you, but I will if I must.Ó
	Shivan charged first, her knife shining brightly from the light outside.  
She swung her knife toward GregoryÕs right side, only to be blocked by 
his dagger.  A clink sound snapped into their ears, and for a brief 
moment, the two weapons seemed locked, but Shivan whirled pass him, and 
struck a fist at the nape of his head.  Gregory stumbled forward, and 
quickly regained his balance.  He turned just in time to spot steel 
flashing close by his face, and lurched back, the knife barely cutting 
his whiskers.  
	Gregory then made his first attack, lunging his dagger at her stomach, 
only to have it blocked again.  To avoid a sudden counter-move, Gregory 
jumped back, and kept his dagger close to his face, the jaguar standing 
in a defending stance.
	Shivan shook her head.  ÒYouÕre good with a dagger, jaguar.  But what 
about without the weapon?Ó
	To make her point, Shivan grinned and sheathed the knife into her 
scabbard.  Gregory however, was not foolish.  Suddenly, he lurched 
himself at her, dagger waiting to stab into the flesh of a caracal.  
Shivan expected the move however, and grabbed his dagger-wielding arm.  
She then ducked, and threw him over the shoulder effortlessly.  Gregory 
landed on the rocky ground so hard that he released his dagger.  It was 
thrown onto a wall, out of reach.  
	ÒSneaky move, jaguar, but too slow.  I could teach you to be quicker, 
but my students only last one lesson long, since they are killed when I 
give them their failing grades,Ó Shivan taunted.      
	Gregory tried to get up, only to be kicked in the face, and was rolled 
back.  The frosty stone floor sent sudden chills up his brain, and his 
muzzle was a little sore after tasting some leather.  Quickly, he stood 
up, and spotted his dagger on the ground to his right.  He wanted to grab 
it, but Shivan might prevent that.  Besides, if that caracal wants to 
fight with fists, then that was exactly what Gregory would do.  He didnÕt 
want to face her scythe weapon again anyway.
	Shivan leaped at him in an arch-kick, but Gregory ducked and when she 
landed on her two feet, he punched her in the face, sending her reeling 
back a few steps in surprise.  The jaguar kept at it, stepping forward at 
her, sending punch after punch.  Shivan took the blows with short grunts 
as she kept retreating, and eventually, had her back to the wall.  A 
punch to her stomach forced her head to lurch forward, but she gathered 
her senses quickly enough to elbow Gregory in the face.  Gregory was too 
distracted to continue on the attack, and Shivan squeaked her way out, 
and arched a kick at his head.  
	GregoryÕs head collided on the wall, and pivoted his legs, ending up 
with his back on the wall.  He spotted a kick coming to his stomach, and 
managed to catch her leg.  He then lifted her leg up, and Shivan fell 
back, landing back first on the ground.  Before Gregory could do 
something about it, Shivan made a leg sweep, toppling the jaguar to her 
level, and to finish that move off, she swung her left boot and it 
connected with GregoryÕs face.  The caracal then lifted her legs above 
her and threw her legs up into a standing position.  
	Gregory spotted his dagger just inches from him now.  His mouth was 
bleeding, and several strains of blood trickled down his muzzle, staining 
his uniform collar and rank buttons.  Knowing that grabbing his weapon 
would revoke Shivan to grab hers, he clasped the daggerÕs handle and then 
rolled to face up.  He did it just in time, for Shivan had drawn her 
weapon out already and Gregory blocked the knife that could have cut his 
face into ribbons.  Frustrated by being blocked once again, Shivan hissed 
and spat into his eyes.  Gregory growled and closed his eyes, but he had 
already grabbed hold of ShivanÕs knife-wielding paw.  It soon became a 
tug of war as the knife was nearing and retreating from GregoryÕs face, 
and with Shivan on top of him, he knew he must throw her off soon, for 
although he was generally stronger than her, the injuries from the fight 
as well as from the earlier crash had drained his strength.  
	Gregory lifted up a knee and smacked it against her groin.  Yelping in 
pain, Shivan rolled off, and they both got up simultaneously, snarling 
and circling, their weapons ready to strike once again.  Gregory was out 
of breath, and was a little light-headed from the head collisions, but 
his eyes still burned with determination.  Shivan looked better off, but 
she herself was breathing hard, and was limping a bit, since she had just 
been kneed on the groin.
	Gregory made the next move, charging with his dagger pointing down in a 
stabbing position.  Before he could swing it down, Shivan rolled forward 
on the ground, and swept passed him.  She then stopped and stabbed her 
knife backwards.  The blade struck the nape of GregoryÕs right knee, and 
sheered it straight through the joint.  
	Gregory was trained to tolerate great pain.  He could have a flame touch 
his paw for four minutes straight without emotion.  He had endured 
running barefoot on the hot sands of Titania on five mile jogs.  He 
rammed his paw into a pail of hot, steaming rocks fifty times before he 
could do it without grimacing.
	However, he had never once experienced having the blade of a long knife 
stabbing right through his knee joint.  As the bloody knifeÕs point 
protruded through the front of the knee, Gregory threw back his head in 
pain, and bellowed a blood-curdling scream that echoed in the cave.  
Shivan grinned as she heard that scream, and effortlessly pulled out her 
knife.  As soon as she finished that, Gregory toppled forward, still 
screaming.
	Shivan shook her head as she watched him lying down, the screaming 
jaguar holding his knee in great pain.  ÒEso debe doler, no es as’?  
Awwwww, que mal.Ó
	She looked at her bloody knife, which was dripping jaguar blood from the 
point of the blade.  Spotting GregoryÕs blue beret on the ground, Shivan 
decided to take a break from the action, knowing that the jaguar wonÕt be 
going anywhere.  Laughing, she walked over to it and picked the beret up.  
The golden hammer insignia shone under the lights, and it sparkled on her 
yellow eyes.  As if she was cleaning it, Shivan rubbed the blade of her 
knife onto the velvet top of the beret, staining it with red.  She rubbed 
it both sides till the knife was tolerably clean, and sheathed the knife 
back on her scabbard.  She faced Gregory, and donned his beret.
	ÒYou donÕt mind if I keep this, do you jaguar?  Gracias,Ó she said.  She 
allowed Gregory to stand up, slowly and clumsily with the injured knee.  
He threw out his dagger when he yelled in pain, so it was nowhere in 
sight, and he was unarmed.  At the state he was in, he knew that his time 
of fatal defeat had come, but he wonÕt go down easily.  He stared at the 
caracal with glaring eyes, and raised his fists.
	Shivan laughed.  ÒYouÕre not the type to give up, are you?  ThatÕs one 
thing IÕm going to admire about you.  It will be a shame to kill you.  My 
regrets,Ó she said as she unsheathed her scythe-knife again.  
	Gregory tried his best to move, but his ruined knee made his movements 
jerky and limp, and he grimaced every time he made a step.  Shivan drew 
closer, her knife waiting to feel blood once again.  With a shrill war 
cry, Shivan charged at him, and swung her knife like a bat.  The blade 
sliced through the air, and also a blue-uniform sleeve, along a small 
section of jaguar fur.  Gregory screamed again, this time with less 
volume, as a new wound developed on his arm, and reared back.  Before he 
could react, Shivan thrust her knife into his chest, and an eerie silence 
swept into their ears.
	The knife had stabbed through GregoryÕs right lung, and though he tried 
to scream, nothing came out.  Shivan chuckled close to his face.  ÒStab 
at heart, you can scream.  Stab at lung, you canÕt scream.  Simple rule, 
isnÕt it, jaguar?Ó
	Gregory could only stare at her with eyes that had life draining from 
them.  Shivan roughly pulled her bloody knife out of his chest, and 
retreated back, hoping to see a good show of a victim falling to the 
ground.  GregoryÕs knees failed to keep him balanced any longer, and 
stumbled forward, nearing death.  Blood trickled away from him, streams 
of liquid that was once vital to a myrmidon soldierÕs life.
	Victoriously, Shivan stepped forward and bowed down.  With her face 
close to his blood-drenched head, she whispered some chuckles.  ÒLa 
muerte debe ser una liberaci—n, no un castigo.Ó  And with that, she spat 
on his ear, and the saliva trickled down to his forehead.  The victorious 
caracal rose up and laughed as she walked further into the shadows of the 
cave, leaving behind Sergeant Gregory Nothrana lying on the ground.  One 
of the most loyal of Venom soldiers had fallen alone in enemy territory.

Chapter Seven

	ÒI donÕt know who to blame for GregoryÕs death.  The one that had 
stabbed him in the lung, Westly for shooting him down, or his father for 
killing him years ago during his childhood.Ó
							--Major Nedra Benson, Sapphire Paladins   
	
	The greyhound sat sullenly on her bed, looking out the window.  Her eyes 
were focused on the planet Katina, where one of her co-pilots was 
struggling to survive, doing who-knows-what.  She shuffled her body on 
the bed, trying to be more comfortable, but her feelings of concern were 
too much to allow her to feel any bit of comfort.  The climate-controlled 
air of her quarters in Outpost 459 was chilly, but Nedra wasnÕt wearing 
any jacket, and was too distracted to get one.  Though she had arrived at 
Outpost 459 hours ago, she was still wearing her uniform, somewhat 
stained from sparks that had burned spots on the clothes from the earlier 
dogfight against Starfox.  
	The famous team of mercenaries had chased them for about ten minutes 
once out of KatinaÕs orbit, and the jets of the Paladins had suffered 
some more hits, but they managed to get through long enough to outlast 
the Starfox team, whom were already late for another mission.  Nedra may 
have lost, but she felt satisfied that she had lost against a legendary 
team, but she was still in shock on what Westly had done to Gregory.  She 
wanted to give him a piece of her mind, but Captain Haras intervened, 
keeping the doberman in a jail cell, thus keeping the enraged greyhound 
out of reach.  Her boss Amy had tried to calm her, but the snow leopard 
had given up and retreated to her room, trying to sleep away her 
frustrations of today.
	Nedra suddenly wondered on how Amy was taking this.  Her own team was 
falling apart at the seams right before her eyes.  She wanted to defeat 
the Starfox team, ever since she lost against them in Sector X as a 
temporary member of Starwolf.  If Gregory was killed, and Westly sent to 
prison (which he might not, since he was in a pilot in demand in the 
Venomian AF), then her team strength would be cut in half.  Andross might 
send in replacements, but the memories would still remain.  
	ÒAre you still alive Gregory?Ó  Nedra spoke to herself as she stood up 
from the bed.  She had already demanded to Captain Haras to send a 
transporter back to the scene and rescue Gregory, but the hyena refused, 
saying that it was too dangerous.  Nedra went on, but Haras was a 
stubborn one, and Nedra eventually gave up.  However, she must find a way 
to rescue him.
	ÒLooks like I have to do it myself,Ó she said finally, grabbing her 
jacket.

	An alarm woke up Amy forty minutes later.  The snow leopard was already 
suffering from one of her migraines, and combined with her distaste for 
being disturbed while sleeping, she was in a grouchy mood.  Oh yeah, the 
mere fact that her team was falling apart was of no benefit to her as 
well.  The alarm buzzed into her ears annoyingly, and she darted up from 
her bed, and rushed over to the monitor phone.  When she turned it on, 
she was relieved that the alarm had automatically shut off, flooding the 
room with silence.
	On the screen was Captain Haras (who else but to make her night a little 
worse off than before) and his worried expression made AmyÕs heart sink.  
ÒWhat is it, sir?Ó
	ÒMajor Johnson, my apologies for waking you up in this point of-Ó
	ÒGet to the bloody point, Captain!Ó  Amy snapped irritably, messaging 
her head.  
	The aging hyena flustered a bit, then regained himself.  ÒUh, one of 
your co-pilots, uh...Ó
	ÒNedra Benson.  What about her?Ó
	ÒWell, she and the transporter pilot had left the Outpost without 
consent from me or any authority here and it seems like theyÕre heading 
toward-Ó
	Amy made a short groan.  She knew where that greyhound wanted to go to.  
ÒSheÕs going to Katina?  Damn it....Ó
	ÒPossibly to rescue Gregory Nothrana.  The Command Central had tried to 
contact her, but she wonÕt reply, and neither would the transporter 
pilot.  By the time I got the news of their departure, they were already 
too far away for me to get a tractor beam on them.  She might die in 
hostile territory.Ó
	ÒI know NedraÕs luck.  SheÕll escape death just like she did several 
times during our missions together.  SheÕll make it back to here okay.Ó
	ÒBut what can we do?  I could send Invader jets over to protect her, but 
I canÕt afford to lose even one of my jets out of my defenses until I get 
reinforcements two weeks from now.  And your jet is still under great 
repair.Ó
	ÒWell then, I guess we have nothing to do but to pray,Ó she said with a 
sigh.
	Captain Haras nodded.  ÒFine then.  I hope she gets back soon, and with 
Gregory in tow.  Captain Haras out.Ó
	The screen turned blank, and the room was silent and dark.  Amy let out 
another deep sigh.  ÒGood God, Nedra, this is a huge risk youÕre taking.Ó  
She then laid down on her bed, and grinned.  ÒI know youÕll be back.  You 
still havenÕt grabbed all of my poker chips away from me yet.  Good luck, 
my friend.......Ó

	A slight flurry of snow flakes dotted the transporter windows as the 
small ship landed near GregoryÕs ruined Invader-4 in near darkness in 
Katina.  The transporter door slid open, and Nedra came out, wrapping her 
jacket tighter.  ÒA coat!  I need one!Ó  She spoke to herself.
	She walked over to GregoryÕs jet, which was calm and stopped burning.  
It was completely ruined with burnt laser marks, and both wings had 
splintered off.  The canopy window was open, and to NedraÕs relief, the 
jaguar she wanted to see was not in the cockpit.
	ÒSo, you survived the crash.  Good for you,Ó she said.
	A leopard came out the transporter.  ÒUh, Major, we need to hurry.  
There might be Protector class jets coming and attack us.  I may be a 
registered as neutral, but they might come anyway.Ó
	ÒAlright.  Just stay in your ship and keep those engines warm,Ó she 
replied to the transporter pilot.  The leopard nodded and went back 
inside.
	ÒAlright, Gregory.  Where are you?  Might be in one of those caves,Ó 
Nedra spoke her mind out loud.  She searched around the crash scene, and 
suddenly spotted boot tracks leading away from the cockpit.  Aha!  Those 
have to be GregoryÕs boots!  Oh Nedra, youÕre one lucky dog!
	Grinning, she followed the tracks into one of the caves.  ÒGregory!  Are 
you here?!Ó  She cried into the darkness of the cave.  No answer.  She 
exhaled a sigh, and continued on deeper into the cave.
	She didnÕt have to go far to find something odd about this cave.  She 
spotted some liquid stain on the walls, and there seemed to be a stream 
of the same stuff on the ground, and it doesnÕt look like water.  
Curiously, she rubbed a finger on wall stain, and was shocked to find 
that it was red.  ÒBlood?  What the hell had happened here?Ó
	Something shining on the ground caught her eye.  She walked over to it, 
and found it was GregoryÕs dagger.  She picked it up with rising panic 
inside her.  ÒHe never leaves his dagger unattended.....oh dear....Ó
	She breathed hard as the horror crept in her, and frightening imagines 
flashed in her mind.  Creeping further into the cave, she spotted a large 
ÒlumpÓ on the ground.  Upon a closer look, she realized that it wasnÕt a 
rock that she had hoped to be.
	Unless rocks bleed and wear a blue uniform.......
	ÒOh my God....nooo!!!!Ó  Nedra cried as she ran over to the fallen 
soldier.  The echoes ricocheted back into her ears, but she ignored them 
as she knelt beside him and grabbed his limp arm, and turned him face up.  
It was indeed Gregory Nothrana, and his eyes stared upward in ghastly 
silence.  His clothes was a bloody mess, especially around the chest 
area, and Nedra almost vomited at the sight of the chest wound.  
	Nedra tried to fight back tears, but failed.  The tears flowed down her 
face, and plopped on the filthy uniform of the dead jaguar.  She caressed 
her brown paws on the mattered spotted fur of her co-pilot, sobbing.  She 
heard footsteps and turned around.
	It was the transporter pilot, obviously coming to help after hearing 
NedraÕs scream of horror.  Nedra looked down at Gregory again, and shed 
some more tears.  ÒHelp me carry him to the transporter.Ó
	The leopard agreed, even if it meant having his transporter seats turn 
into a bloody mess.  With him grabbing hold of the legs and Nedra 
grabbing the arms, they carried the jaguar corpse out of the cave and 
into the ship.  With a hurried look on his face, the pilot made his 
engines roar and began to ascend from the ground.  Nedra took one last 
look at the cave that would have been GregoryÕs grave site, and had to 
look twice.
	There was a caracal standing at the cave opening, wearing bloody clothes 
like she had just left a huge fight.  She seemed to be waving farewell at 
them, and on her right paw was a sycthe-knife, dripping blood on her face 
and the ground.  What shocked Nedra further was that the caracal seemed 
to be smiling......
	Nedra knew at once that this feline was the killer of Gregory, and 
stared daggers at her.  However, since they were on a hurry to leave, 
Nedra never got the chance to give this caracal a piece of her mind.       

	
Chapter Eight

	ÒWhat a waste of a good soldier.Ó
				--Emperor Andross, after hearing the news of GregoryÕs death

	It was a quiet morning in Fortuna Base.  In one of the just-opened cafes 
in the base, eight pilots, all attempting to hunt down the same 
organization, sat at one of the large tables, waiting for their meals to 
come.  After searching for the Anti-Cat League members for two weeks now, 
they have been exhausted and frustrated.  Still, they remained optimistic 
that someday, some member would be captured, and hopefully that member 
would have valuable information about their secret hideout.
	Darwin Dracka, the leader of the Crimson Firehawks, sipped his grape 
drink and let out a sigh.  ÒSo thatÕs it.  I couldnÕt find any clues in 
the latest terrorist attack in Katina that would lead us anywhere, and I 
donÕt think the Corneria City Chief of Police has any more chances before 
he would be kicked out of office.  The public can be so demanding at 
times.Ó
	Lizbel Crusasa, who married the cougar but has kept her last name, laid 
a tawny-furred paw on her husbandÕs shoulder.  ÒWell, think about it, 
Darwin.  The A.C.L. can strike at anytime, and what the public wants is 
for them to be destroyed immediately.  They are also looking for results, 
and a simple Ôwe need more timeÕ just wonÕt be acceptable to them 
anymore.  Time has run out for Chief Questia, and I donÕt think he will 
stay on office for long.Ó
	The borzoi next to her nodded.  ÒIÕll give him a week.  The media might 
give him another two days.  If that greyhound manages to be in office any 
longer, then IÕll eat DarwinÕs furballs.Ó
	ÒI donÕt hack furballs, Dekslan!Ó Darwin replied back.  
	ÒWhatever,Ó Dekslan Meneslan resigned quickly.  The others laughed.
	The bobcat pilot, Terra Hartford, had drank her last drop of tap water, 
and then took stock on what was happening in the hallways.  Most of the 
people were domestic cats, running back and forth with insecurity etched 
in their faces.  
	ÒWhat a shame,Ó spoke the bobcat.  ÒThose cats donÕt deserve to be 
living in fear like this.Ó
	ÒNo one does, Terra,Ó Natlarn Berola, leader of the Justice Cadets, 
added.  ÒCan you imagine living in a place where you have to watch behind 
your shoulder all the time, worried if the seat that you sit on would be 
your last, the cookie jar lid you open would allow you to smell the 
cookies that will be your last smell, and such.Ó
	Dekslan, whose sense of humor arises in even the most unlikely of moods, 
nodded.  ÒWorried that the toilet they sit on would be the last they will 
ever-Ó
	ÒDek!Ó  Darwin snapped, half-shocked, half-serious.  ÒGod, you can be so 
cruel at times!Ó
	Dekslan made a short laugh.  ÒHey, we got eight depressed pilots in 
here, including me, so donÕt go badgering me for trying to spice up our 
moods a little.Ó
	Darwin was about to respond when an explosion ruined their appetites in 
an instant.  The blast occurred in a residential quarters just down the 
hallway, for when they looked at the direction of the explosion, they 
spotted debris flying in the air, hitting some of the people in the 
hallway.  A sudden uproar erupted, with some of the people fainting in 
shock.  Some of the Fortuna pilots were running toward the scene of the 
explosion, trying to gather since on what had happened.  The Anti-Cat 
League had struck again.
	Natlarn however, spotted something else.  A collie, wearing a red trench 
coat and an outdated uniform, was walking away from the scene.  A suspect 
maybe?  He pointed at the collie, yelling, ÒHey!  Stop right there!Ó
	The collie snatched one look at the eight pilots now having their eyes 
on him, and muttered a curse.  To the pilotsÕ surprises, he burst out 
into a run, and Natlarn, realizing that he may be an A.C.L. member, gave 
chase.

	Five minutes ago..............
	The target had been marked.
	Maxwell Poland, a collie carrying a deadly suitcase, nursed his coffee 
he got from the nearby snack bar just a block away from the cafe where 
the Justice Cadets and Crimson Firehawks were eating in.  His red trench 
coat was cold from the frozen weather outside, and his old uniform had 
melted snow stains, but he was comfortable, and that was enough for him.  
His stern face was etched with determination as his eyes focused on his 
target: a red furred tabby talking on a payphone a few yards away from 
him.  His black suitcase shone under the lights from the Fortuna Base 
ceiling, and inside it was a powerful pipe bomb.
	Maxwell has been following this cat for an hour now, patiently waiting 
for him to come to his residential quarters so the collie would know 
where he lives.  He had just come off a terrorist mission in Katina, and 
by the time he reached Fortuna to start his next mission, he was 
exhausted.
	But the Great One do not tolerate failed or delayed missions, Maxwell 
thought.  He has been working with Haran Goresins even before the 
official existence of the Anti-Cat League, and was responsible for 
recruiting new members and spreading anti-cat propaganda, and when the 
A.C.L. was firmly established in their secret hideout under Corneria 
City, Maxwell had decided to step down to being Second-Commander instead 
of Co-Leader.  After all, it was Haran who hired him.  
	Maxwell hated cats since puphood.  He often recalled cat bullies that 
harassed him in school, and that hatred was noticeable during a civil war 
in Macbeth.  He once tortured a Persian cat just for the fun of it.  Once 
after that event, the soldiers in his unit tried to avoid him whenever 
they could.  Still, Maxwell wasnÕt anti-social.  He loved company, and 
even has a somewhat schoolboy crush toward Shivan Tresley.  If only he 
could stand the sight of the scythe-knife that she carries all the time.  
When he first met the caracal, the first thing that sent a chill up his 
spine was the weapon she had on her belt.  
	The tabby hung up the phone, and continued his way toward the 
residential quarters nearby, prompting Maxwell to finish his coffee and 
follow his target.  He almost grinned as he followed the future victimÕs 
footsteps, gripping the lethal suitcase eagerly.  He never noticed the 
eight pilots that wanted to capture him idling in the cafe as he strolled 
by them, intent on his victim.     
	When the tabby stopped in front of the door of a living quarters room, 
Maxwell sighed with relief and stood out of sight forty feet away.  Now 
the collie knows where he lives.  This place will go up in fireworks 
pretty soon, Maxwell thought evilly.  The tabby came inside, and when the 
door closed behind him, Maxwell scanned for possible witnesses, and 
seeing none this time, he proceeded to the victimÕs door.
	He laid the suitcase in front of the door, and pressed the doorbell, 
chuckling in eagerness. 
	The voice com by the door answered.  ÒWhat is it?Ó
	ÒThere is a suitcase here for you.  From what I know of, it seems to 
belong to you.Ó
	ÒWhat suitcase?  I donÕt own one!Ó
	ÒAre you Terry Tremana?Ó
	ÒWhy yes, that is me,Ó the voice com answered.  The door opened, and the 
tabby had to look up in order to see MaxwellÕs stern face.  
	ÒWell, this suitcase has your name on it.  This must belong to you.Ó
	Terry picked up the suitcase, and shook his head.  ÒI donÕt understand 
this.  I told you, I donÕt own one.Ó
	Maxwell pretended to be in a hurry.  ÒLook, I have to go soon.  I would 
love to chat with you longer, but report that suitcase to the Claims 
Department in the other side of this base.  ItÕs closed for now, so just 
keep that thing for an hour or so,Ó he quickly said, beginning to walk 
away.
	Terry grumbled, but accepted the suitcase and took it with him into his 
quarters.  Maxwell almost laughed in victory, then reached in his pocket.  
Still chuckling, he pulled out a small key chain with a black device that 
has a red button.  For safety, he walked away from TerryÕs room till he 
was a safe distance away, and prepared to push the button.
	ÒFarewell, Terry Tremana.  Too bad youÕre a frigging cat.  Otherwise, 
you will live to see the light of another day....,Ó he muttered to 
himself, and pushed the button as he walked away.
	He barely paid much attention to the explosion behind him, for he was 
used to the noise, though he did flinched as a scrap of metal barely 
missed his head.  By that time, he was already out of the residential 
areas, and within sight of the cafe, and those eight pilots.
	ÒHey!  Stop right there!Ó  A cheetah suddenly yelled out amid the chaos.  
Maxwell spotted him, and was shocked to find that he was pointing 
directly at him.
	Maxwell narrowed his eyes as he recognized four of those pilots.  The 
Justice Cadets!  ÒAw, shit!Ó
	Panic rising inside him, Maxwell did what he first thought to do: run, 
and run like a greyhound with lava sweeping through the ground behind it.  
So he did, heading east.  He spotted the cheetah he knew as Natlarn 
chasing him, and burst out faster speed.  Natlarn was generally faster 
than him, and Maxwell didnÕt have much of a head start.  He collided 
shoulders with panicked customers and military personnel on the wide 
hallway, and Natlarn was gaining on him.
	It took only a minute for the chase to end.  With superior running 
speed, Natlarn had managed to catch up with the already exhausted 
Maxwell, and grabbed him on the shoulder.  Maxwell halted and turned 
around, preparing to punch the bounty hunter on the stomach.  Natlarn 
blocked the punch and kneed him on the stomach.  Maxwell grunted in 
surprise and tried to break free, but the other Justice Cadets came and 
tackled him to the floor.  
	Still, the stubborn collie refused to give up.  Growling and spitting, 
he wrestled with the badger Tera, but the bounty hunter was too heavy, 
and Tera managed to contain him.  Tigress helped by planting a massive 
foot on his chest, holding him still on his back.  Maxwell Poland, a high 
ranking member of the Anti-Cat League, was captured.

Chapter Nine

	ÒThe law is not the law until someone decides to enforce it.Ó
								--Anonymous

	Haran was worried sick.  Maxwell was supposed to be back from Fortuna 
four days ago, and his absence was making him irritable.  He paced 
throughout the corridors of the caves, ignoring the chilly air and the 
beauty of the stone walls.  The Siamese cat was also very displeased with 
the sudden downturn of events that had nearly foiled his plans that 
Shivan had devised.  Of course there was a dramatic increase of attacks 
in all targeted planets and space stations, but that didnÕt seem enough.  
The domestic cats were not migrating to Fortuna and Aquas quickly enough 
to keep up with his impatience, and his bomb stock was beginning to be 
depleted.  The Siamese realized that if he slowed down the blitzkrieg of 
terrorist attacks, then the rushed migrations would slow down with it.  
	If only I started with more bombs.  Why must every single plan and 
strategy have limitations and flaws?  Then again, thereÕs no such thing 
as a perfect plan.  At least I donÕt think.  The frustrations swirled in 
his mind, mocking him.  The death of his personal bodyguard Ramon fueled 
the fires of frustrations, and Haran knew this plan was not working the 
way he wanted.
	Haran soon came across a small wooden door that was labeled with a ÒSÓ 
sign that was painted on it.  He knocked on the door with short taps, 
hoping someone was inside.
	ÒCome in,Ó a voice replied back.
	Haran opened the door and found Shivan tying the laces on her black 
boots.  For once, she wasnÕt carrying her scythe-knife; it was laid on 
top of a small desk.  ShivanÕs quarters was decorated with only furniture 
and a red rug on the stone floor, but it was luxurious in her taste.  The 
caracal was sitting on her bed on the back side of the room, dressed up 
in her usual garb.  A thick belt of throwing knives was laid on the bed 
next to her.  
	She grinned as she saw her boss come in.  ÒMaxwell came in yet?Ó
	Haran grumbled.  ÒNo.  ItÕs been four days, and I have a bad feeling 
about this.  If heÕs captured, then I hope he wonÕt sputter out the 
details of my hideout.Ó
	Shivan narrowed her eyes.  ÒIf he did, then I will seal his fate.  Look, 
worrying about him wonÕt benefit you at all.  Have the ingredients for 
more bombs come yet?Ó
	ÒNot till two hours from now, from what I know from the last report.  
Shivan, I donÕt think this plan to get as many cats in Fortuna or Aquas 
as we can is going to work.  We just donÕt have enough bombs to get this 
flowing much further.Ó
	ÒHaran, this plan will work.  If not, then can you think up a better 
plan?  So far, this is the best plan we have.  Just-Ó
	A mink guard burst inside suddenly, interrupting Shivan.  He wore a 
green shirt and black pants, and the A.C.L. badge adorned his right chest 
part of the shirt.  ÒGreat One!  I have grave news from Fortuna!Ó
	Haran muttered a curse.  ÒGreat.  What happened?Ó
	ÒMaxwell Poland was arrested four days ago after he bombed a residential 
area in Fortuna Base.Ó
	ÒFour days?Ó  Haran repeated, fury rising inside.  ÒWhy wasnÕt I 
notified of this earlier?Ó
	The mink stammered a reply.  ÒThe Fortuna Base civilian airport was 
snowed in, and it was too severe for any transporters onward to Katina to 
depart!  I didnÕt have anyone else to carry out the information I have, 
since I canÕt use phones to prevent being bugged and computers for 
obvious reasons, I canÕt relay them to someone either!Ó
	Haran growled.  ÒExcuses, excuses!  Damn it, if Maxwell was captured 
that long ago, and he spilled out the beans about my hideout, then.....Ó
	Shivan shook her head.  ÒMaxwell wonÕt do it, Haran.  HeÕs too loyal to 
you.Ó
	The mink knew that Haran was furious, so it was bad judgement to even 
speak at that moment.  ÒWhat about truth vials?Ó
	Haran flashed direct anger at the mink.  If he had carried the word of 
MaxwellÕs capture much sooner, then Haran would have much more time to 
prepare if Maxwell gave out the hideout location.  But now, if the police 
comes, Haran would be unprepared to fight back.  He continued to stare at 
the mink, whom was whimpering with rising fright, and came up close to 
Shivan.  He whispered to her ear, and after that, Shivan reached for her 
knife belt and pulled out one of the small throwing knives.  The mink 
retreated a few steps, knowing what Shivan would try to do.
	ÒHey!  It wasnÕt my fault!  No!Ó
	Shivan came up close to him as Haran watched, shaking her head.  ÒDelays 
are still delays.  However, since itÕs not really your fault you got 
snowed in by some freak snowstorm, I will give you a chance.  I will 
count your last seconds.  If you manage to get out of this cave before I 
say ten, then your life will be spared.  Starting now.Ó
	The mink was sensible enough not to argue this further.  He burst out 
into a run, his feet carrying him quickly through a long straight 
corridor.  Shivan simply stood on the middle of the hallway, holding the 
knife in a throwing position.
	ÒOne......two.......ten!Ó  Shivan yelled and hurled the knife directly 
at the mink.  The knife spun through the air, making no sound.  The mink 
screamed as the blade thrust itself into the center of his back, and 
tumbled forward, the scream echoing as it bounced off the stone walls.  
Then, silence swept over.
	Haran chuckled.  ÒThat wasnÕt fair to him, you know.  You didnÕt count 
to ten right.Ó
	Shivan innocently shrugged.  ÒI said ten, didnÕt I?  ItÕs fair to me.Ó
	Haran rolled up his eyes, and watched the corpse on the floor.  ÒTruth 
vials......not even the most loyal could resist those.  Shivan, I donÕt 
think we can afford to stay here any longer.Ó
	ÒWhen do you think the police will get here?Ó
	As if to answer Shivan, a raccoon guard came up to them with frantic 
eyes, jumping over the corpse of the mink.  ÒGreat One!  ThereÕs 
transporters and eight fighter jets landing just outside the caves!  The 
Police are here!Ó

	The sole guard standing at one of the caveÕs entrances was watching the 
activity happening outside nervously.  His bear eyes were focused on the 
transporters (nine, he counted, with a possible maximum of 90 police 
officers), and the eight fighter jets that landed next to the small 
ships.  Four of them were arwings, but smaller and thinner than the 
arwings Starfox flies.
	Great, the bear thought sarcastically.  Of all the bounty hunters, from 
one end of the Lylat System to the other, it has to be the stinking 
Justice Cadets to drop by my turf and say hello.  Well, looks like I have 
to reply the appropriate greeting then, with my laser pistol.
	He recognized the insignias painted on the sides of the transporters as 
law enforcement ships, but not all of them were from Corneria City.  Some 
were from cities in Katina, Corneria, and even one from Fortuna Base.  
With each green-uniformed police officer he witnessed coming out the 
transporters, he muttered a quick sigh of displeasure.  This wonÕt be the 
best day of his life.  
	However, it were the other four fighter jets that was confusing to him.  
They were red colored with coal black canopies, and the wings were set at 
the very back of the jets.  He didnÕt know who flies those weird T-shaped 
jets, but he didnÕt care.  His laser pistol doesnÕt care either.
	The bear shuffled his feet nervously, almost in panic.  He hated being 
alone like this, even though he knew that there must be someone else 
watching them from another cave.  There might be escape routes out the 
other side, but who knows how many police officers lie wait there?  This 
place must be surrounded.  ÒCrap....Ó  The bear cursed.
	Minutes later, a tan brown mouse came up to the bear, breathing hard 
after a hurried jog.  ÒJack, thereÕs more police officers than what you 
are seeing.Ó
	Jack grumbled.  ÒOf course.  Knowing our dastardly reputation, there 
must be two hundred of those coppies swarming outside.  How many on our 
side?Ó
	ÒOnly one hundred, and weÕre very spread out.  There seems to be no end 
to the length of these caves.  WeÕll use the knowledge of these caves to 
our advantage.  WeÕll also cut the lights to half power, giving the cops 
lower visibility.Ó
	ÒAs well as ours,Ó replied Jack.  ÒReceived word from the Great One?Ó
	ÒAt 5:00, which is five minutes from now, all the guards situated at the 
cave entrances will fire at the officers at once.  By the time the 
officers get within 200 yards from the caves, retreat.  You wonÕt have a 
chance fighting them alone and only ten feet away.Ó
	ÒHow would I know if theyÕre 200 yards away?Ó
	The mouse shrugged irritably.  ÒI donÕt know!  Guess!Ó
	ÒWhatever.  Well, might as well wait.Ó
	The mouse nodded and so they waited for the right time to strike.  They 
watched as the officers and other pilots spread out, preparing to charge 
inside.
	ÒSo, whatÕs our plan, Nat?Ó  JoÕhara asked his co-pilot as they waited 
impatiently among a bustling crowd of police officers, most of them 
watching the caves yearning to fight and attack.  They usually give a 
criminal a chance to surrender before they fire, but Chief Drake Questia, 
whom was in charge of all police forces involved in this, had given the 
order to shoot at first sight of the enemy.  Most of them grinned when 
they heard the order.  Especially the domestic cat police officers.
	The Justice Cadets and Crimson Firehawks surrounded the cheetah, their 
ears open to hear what their appointed leader had to say.  ÒOkay, there 
are two ways to start this.  We can attack under the order of Chief 
Questia, or if the A.C.L. guards shoot first, we immediately respond and 
charge into the caves at will.  We split in pairs, and go into different 
caves.  I will go with JoÕhara, Tera is with Tigress, Darwin and Lizbel 
will go together, and so will Terra and Dekslan.  Since we are out in the 
open, charging toward the caves may seem like suicide, but itÕs the only 
way to do it at this point.Ó
	ÒJust hope that one of the guards wonÕt try to shoot you,Ó replied 
Terra, inspecting her pistol.
	ÒRight,Ó Natlarn continued on.  ÒOnce inside, be careful on your shots.  
100 other officers from both sides of the Crima Caves will charge in with 
us, and IÕm sure Questia wonÕt like it if we accidentally shot one of his 
own officers.Ó
	ÒIf one of them accidentally shoots me, then IÕm sure I wonÕt like it,Ó 
Dekslan said, in her sarcastic tone.  Darwin could only sigh.  
	ÒFire at will, but if any of you see Haran, you can injure him, but try 
to keep him alive.Ó
	ÒIÕll resist my temptations,Ó Tigress growled, refitting her brass 
knuckles.  
	Natlarn scanned around a little, then mentioned to JoÕhara.  ÒSee that 
downed Invader-4 over there?  You and I will charge into the nearest cave 
from that jet.Ó
	JoÕhara nodded.  ÒHmmm....I wonder who used to fly that Invader?Ó
	ÒWho cares?Ó  Tera shrugged.  ÒIs that all?Ó
	ÒYeah, thatÕs my plan,Ó Natlarn answered.  ÒWell, good luck all of you.  
WeÕre going to need it.Ó
	Lizbel smiled and whooped a pre-battle cry to rise up her spirits as 
well as her co-pilots.  ÒThose Anti-Cat buttheads will never get a chance 
against me!Ó
	The pilots had joined with their partners, picked a cave to charge into, 
and waited for Chief QuestiaÕs order.
	       
	 However, it wasnÕt the order from the Chief that had started the 
onslaught, but a scream coming from one of the officers.  One of the 
guards had shot a laser straight on the officer, and the law enforcer was 
killed immediately.  Soon afterwards, many more lasers hurled themselves 
at the officers, and as the officers fired back, they laid low, keeping 
as small a target as they could.  They fired whenever they spotted a 
figure standing on any cave entrance, and though some of the guards fell 
under an accurate and deadly shot, most of them killed in the beginning 
stages were the more exposed officers.
	Soon, the charge began.  Risking their lives, the officers and the 
fighter pilots ran toward the caves, shooting as they do so.  Some of the 
unlucky ones screamed their last as they tumbled to the chilly ground, 
crimson liquid staining their uniforms.  Dekslan was almost startled when 
a laser struck the dirt just centimeters from her foot, but recovered 
from the shock quickly and went on.
	The A.C.L. guards tried their best to pick off as many officers they 
could, but they were soon forced to retreat when they got too close to 
them.  The officers had gained control of the first areas of the cave 
interiors, but now the hard part begins.  Long stretching corridors of 
stone await them, along with desperate guards that were eager to defend 
their hideout and protect their leader.  Still, the officers expected to 
face those obstacles, and so were not fazed by them as they further 
intruded into the hideout of the organization they had longed to destroy 
once and for all.

Chapter Ten

	ÒWhat an idiot.  If that greyhound had common sense, he would have 
brought along five times as many police officers to attack that hideout 
in Katina.  No wonder the public hates him.Ó
		--Frederick Tunbara, Corneria City Police officer, referring to his 
Chief

	ÒGot another one!  Ha ha ha!!!Ó  Terra piped as a meerkat guard fell 
after receiving a laser shot from the bobcat.  ÒA head shot one at that!Ó

	ÒAs usual,Ó muttered Dekslan.  Terra knew that she was the most accurate 
pistol-shooter of the team, and she loves to boast and remind others of 
her accuracy.  It can be annoying, but she doesnÕt boast all that often.  
Just about ten times per base raid.  DekslanÕs countless wisecracks were 
even worse.
	The black-uniformed pair walked sleekly and cautiously through the dark, 
nature-created hallways, pistols ready to fire.  The Justice Cadets were 
better pilots than the Crimson Firehawks.  Despite their very unique 
Braun-class jets, the Firehawks were worse than the bounty hunters in 
most flying skills, but that doesnÕt mean that the Firehawks were 
horrible pilots.  
	But storming into bases and organization hideouts on foot were something 
that the Cadets doesnÕt do often.  They often leave those jobs to the 
squadron that does that much better:  the Crimson Firehawks.  In fact, 
several times, the Cornerian Army had offered payments for the Firehawks 
to raid bases in Macbeth and Titania, and DarwinÕs team had still yet to 
let them down.  Like the Cadets, those commission jobs were their only 
source of income, so the Firehawks completing their missions means not 
only a step further into winning the war for Corneria, but also a sense 
of pride and financial survival.  
	Five minutes after intruding inside the caves, Terra was almost hit when 
a laser swept just inches by her, striking the wall beside the bobcat.  
Stone fragments splattered on her face, momentarily distracting the 
feline.  She would have been killed if Dekslan would not have came in 
front of her and fired a shot at the guard ten yards away that was hiding 
behind a large column, killing him.
	ÒThanks,Ó Terra said as she brushed off some of the dust off her face.
	Dekslan nodded.  ÒJust be more alert.  Having you killed would mean more 
a share of money for me, but I would miss your boasting.  That option 
outweighs the other, so IÕm obliged to give you life-saving advice.Ó
	ÒThanks again,Ó Terra replied sarcastically.
	ÒYouÕre welcome,Ó Dekslan said with a sly grin.

	As his guards tried desperately to fight off the oncoming police, Haran 
was in his living quarters, packing his only suitcase for yet another 
escape attempt.  In about a month, the fearsome leader of the Anti-Cat 
League had to flee his hideouts twice.  The one in Titania would be his 
very last chance, but that place wasnÕt even finished yet in 
construction.  He stuffed some of his clothes in the suitcase roughly, 
and after he closed it, he picked up his phaser and set it to Level 9.  
As he was just preparing to leave, he spotted something on top of the 
dresser.  It was a framed picture of his wife and son, which was taken 
many years ago it seemed.
	Haran held the picture close to his eyes, studying it, even though he 
had seen it a trillion times before.  It was the only surviving picture 
of him, Frieda and Albert all in the same picture, and at the time it was 
taken, Albert was around ten years old.
	ÒA few months later, my dear Albert was bombed,Ó Haran muttered.  He 
still sees him in dreams, but the cat that shared half of the SiameseÕs 
blood was always shown as a charred mess.  His innocent look was changed 
into one of burnt and decayed mess of flesh, his eyes gone, exposing 
hallow sockets, his tongue burnt away into nothingness.  In his dreams, 
his only sonÕs clothes were smoking from some invisible, ever-burning 
fire.  When he spoke, it was a growl, reeking with vengeance.
	ÒRevenge.....revenge......revenge.....Ó
	Haran winced at hearing those words in his mind, and he accidentally 
dropped the picture.  The glass shattered onto collision of the stone 
floor, splattering glass chips all over the floor, some hitting HaranÕs 
ankles.  The white cat retreated away, nearing the point of screaming.  
ÒGood God, Albert!Ó  He whimpered, holding his ears as if he was hearing 
an intolerable high-pitched sound.  ÒWhy canÕt you just leave me alone 
for one frigging NIGHT??!!!Ó
	Gunfire startled him a few moments later.  Cautiously, he opened the 
door and found two green-uniformed police officers firing at four of his 
guards that were close to the door.  To avoid being hit, Haran ducked low 
almost behind one of the guards, pulling his own phaser out of his 
holster.  One of the guards suddenly fell back, a laser blast wound a 
permanent addition to his chest.  Haran occasionally stood up, fired a 
shot, then ducked behind the wall of kneeling guards.  Two screams from 
the police officers had signaled the end of the scrimmage, and Haran 
stood up once again, relieved to see the two dead officers laying on the 
bloody ground.
	ÒIs there an escape route nearby here, Great One?Ó  A raccoon guard 
asked his leader.
	ÒIf the officers have this place surrounded, then no.  We have no choice 
but to stand and fight them off.  We may be doomed, but IÕm not going to 
give up easily.Ó
	The raccoon made a proud and firm face.  ÒIÕm with you, Great One.  
WeÕll fight off 500 police officers if we have too!Ó
	Haran nodded.  ÒFrom what I know off, thatÕs exactly what we have to do.  
Just keep your shots as accurate as you can.  Force those cops out of the 
caves.Ó
	The raccoon saluted smartly.  ÒYes, Great One!  We will try our best!Ó
	Haran looked at the dead officers.  ÒGet those corpses aside.  I might 
trip over them.Ó

	 Darwin and Lizbel were forced to split up, but the chinook had another 
police officer with her, a horned lizard named Xavier.  So far, they had 
fought against two guards, but now, the natural hallways of the caves 
were empty,....for now.
	Lizbel shook her head, her paws sweating due to the moisture in the 
underground air.  The sweat was making her pistol slippery, and several 
times she risked her life by distracting herself to dry the pistol.  
ÒItÕs quiet now.......perfect.Ó
	ÒSilence bad for you?Ó  Xavier asked in a gruff voice.  He wasnÕt very 
educated, but his shooting and sense of honor in law enforcement had made 
him squeak into the Police Force. 
	ÒMost definitely.  Silence gives me the creeps.  ThatÕs why I married a 
cougar who snores at night.  It calms me.Ó
	Xavier laughed, but was silenced when they heard footsteps.  Lizbel 
leaned her back against one of the walls, pistol ready to fire.  ÒWait 
till the guard comes close enough,Ó she whispered.  ÒThen you fire first.  
YouÕre better in accuracy than I am.Ó
	Xavier nodded and made himself a small target by partly hiding behind a 
thick column that had halfway protruded off the opposite wall.  The 
lizard several times poked his scaled head out of hiding to see who was 
the intruder, and seeing nothing, decided to form a plan.  ÒLizbel, I 
will go forward.  Wait.Ó
	The nervous chinook nodded and watched Xavier coming out hiding slowly 
and cautiously.  LizbelÕs view of the front was blocked by a large stone 
column, so when Xavier got ten feet ahead, she lost sight of him.  Her 
ears caught more footsteps, getting fainter.
	A gasp sound startled her.  Worried that Xavier may be in danger, Lizbel 
stepped out of hiding and aimed her pistol forward.  She spotted XavierÕs 
back, but the lizard was not moving.
	ÒXavier?  WhatÕs wrong?Ó  Lizbel said as she came upon him.  To her 
horror, as soon as she grasped his shoulder, Xavier felled back limply.  
She gasped as the lizard landed back first, eyes staring upwards forever, 
the handle of the knife protruding out his right lung.
	ÒSorry.  I just had to do it,Ó a female voice purred just a few feet 
away.  Lizbel aimed her pistol at the dark figure standing near her.  
	Before Lizbel could fire, the figure who killed Xavier suddenly made an 
arch kick and her boot collided with the chinookÕs paws, forcing her to 
release the pistol.  The weapon flew onto a wall, and landed with a 
clatter.  Lizbel retreated, hoping that this guard was not holding a 
pistol herself.
	The figure moved closer, and stepped into the light coming from a small 
hole in the ceiling.  The caracal was not armed with a pistol, but she 
had a scythe-knife fastened on her belt.  That weapon alone was enough to 
make Lizbel stricken with doomed worry.  She could retreat out the way 
she came from, but this caracal may try to make that option an almost 
impossibility.
	ÒScared of my knife, dog?Ó the caracal purred.  ÒDonÕt worry, I wonÕt 
use it now.  Just until I want to hurt you really bad.  Or if you try to 
run with your tail between your legs.  Turn your back on me, and you will 
never get out alive.Ó
	ÒDonÕt you villains got something new to say?  Never get out alive?  
ThatÕs a classic line.Ó
	The caracalÕs eyes narrowed.  ÒIÕm not amused, dog.  Are we going to 
chit chat the night away, or are we going to end this in a fight?Ó
	ÒNameÕs Lizbel,Ó replied the determined Firehawk pilot.  ÒMake sure you 
remember that when youÕre lying on the ground, bleeding to death.Ó
	The caracal Shivan charged first, sending a black leather boot to the 
air and connected with LizbelÕs side of her head.  The dog reeled back, 
but retaliated quickly and sent two punches to ShivanÕs face before being 
elbowed on the stomach.  They circled in amid the part-darkness, their 
eyes boring into each otherÕs minds.         
	Shivan charged again, hurling her right fist forward.  Lizbel ducked and 
as the red-furred fist swept above her, grabbed hold of ShivanÕs left 
leg, and lifted it off the ground.  With a startled yelp, Shivan was 
thrown back, and landed on the nape of her head hard.  Still not finished 
yet, Lizbel stood up and attempted to twist her left ankle.  Before she 
would do so however, Shivan planted her right boot on LizbelÕs chest and 
shoved her back.  Upon released, Shivan threw her feet back, and in a 
rolling-motion, got herself on a standing position.  Lizbel attacked 
again with several kicks, only to be blocked each time, and was finally 
struck by a swinging slap-punch.  Lizbel retreated again, and was struck 
on the stomach, tumbling her back on her tail.
	Shivan prepared to kick her on the side of her head, but Lizbel was too 
alert, and managed to roll out to safety and stood up quickly.  By the 
time they were facing off once more, they were breathing hard.
	ÒI finally meet a worthy opponent,Ó Shivan said between heavy breaths.  
ÒIf I didnÕt hate you so much, I would have gladly called you my practice 
sparring partner.Ó
	Lizbel chuckled at that thought.  ÒNah, I wouldnÕt be your partner in 
any case.  I prefer fighting against males.  Gives me a superior sense of 
pride.Ó
	Wordlessly, Shivan leaped at her, and swung out her right boot, hoping 
to connect it with her face.  Lizbel suddenly stooped low, quickly 
scurried out, then leaped herself.  She ended up behind the caracal when 
Shivan landed, and thrust her boot at her back.  With a grunt, Shivan 
stumbled forward, and struck her head on the stone wall.  Shivan was 
momentarily dazed, but that was all Lizbel needed.  She kicked her on the 
stomach and then punched her several times in the face in rapid 
succession.  Shivan couldnÕt handle the blows, and could only retreat as 
Lizbel continued the onslaught.  
	Finally, Shivan, her mouth bleeding, was backed onto a wall.  Shivan 
made two more uppercut punches, then grabbed her shoulders.  She then 
rolled herself back, and when Shivan was above her, she planted a boot on 
her stomach, and lifted her up and away.  The caracal was thrown several 
feet behind Lizbel, and landed with a sickening thud.  Laughing 
internally, Lizbel stood and watched Shivan slowly limping herself back 
up.
	ÒGive up?Ó
	Shivan spat out some red saliva, and her eyes showed some fear.  She 
never had been on the losing side of a fight.  However, she seemed to be 
grinning as she pulled her scythe-knife out of her scabbard.
	Lizbel rolled up her eyes.  ÒGreat, youÕre going to be using that weapon 
now.  YouÕre such a coward.Ó
	With a fierce war cry, Shivan stepped forward and swung her weapon like 
a lethal bat.  The sharp blade sliced the air just whiskers away from 
Lizbel as the chinook jumped back, then dodged away as Shivan swung out 
the weapon once more.              
	Steel flashed under what light the area had, and deadly whispers buzzed 
into her ears as the knife sliced the air several times, each one close 
to LizbelÕs fur.  Shivan was grew desperate, not used to such 
frustrations, and yelled as she continued to swing her weapon wildly, 
missing time and time again.  After almost a dozen tries, Shivan was 
weary, and her strikes were slower.  Lizbel took note of that, and shed 
off unnecessary energy by slowing down herself.
	The fight then rolled into a slow pace.  Shivan was injured in several 
places, crimson liquid trickling out of her mouth, and eyes watery with 
exhaustion.  Lizbel was a little better off, and wasnÕt bleeding as much.  
Lizbel knew she was clearly winning, but the weapon that caracal carries 
might turn the tables instantly.
	Shivan charged to strike again, her knife aiming to slice some dogÕs 
neck.  At the right moment, Lizbel rolled past her and executed a leg 
sweep that toppled the surprised caracal to the floor.  Taking advantage 
of the situation, Lizbel dived at her, and grabbed the knife-wielding 
arm.  Shivan howled in sheer anger, and tried to wrestle her hold away.  
Failing to do so, she used her free paw to grab LizbelÕs right ear, and 
using what strength she had left, jerked the ear upwards.  The chinook 
yelled in pain, and released her hold, but rolled away, and the knife 
stabbed onto the floor which Lizbel was just on moments before.  
	They stood up simultaneously, and Shivan spat out some more red saliva.  
ÒQuŽdate quieto, perro!Ó
	Lizbel knew some Vitrian, and understood her.  ÒWhy should I?  IÕm 
kicking your tail all over the place here!Ó
	Shivan didnÕt answer.  She only stared daggers at her opponent.  
	ÒWhatÕs wrong?Ó Lizbel taunted.  ÒYouÕre a sore perdador?Ó
	Shivan whooped another war cry and charged once more.  Lizbel pivoted 
her feet and twirled beside her as the caracal passed by, and once behind 
her, she made an side-kick that planted a good, solid boot on ShivanÕs 
back.  Shivan tumbled forward and her head struck against the stained red 
wall.  Partly knocked out, Shivan laid on the ground limply, and released 
her knife.  Lizbel grinned victoriously as she heard the knife land on 
the ground with a sharp clatter. 
	ÒHasta la vista,Ó Lizbel said as a final word to her defeated opponent.  
She then picked up her pistol, and rubbed her sore ear before leaving the 
caracal in a half-awake, half-dazed trance.

	ÒIÕm gonna-aaaaahhhh!!!!Ó  The guard screamed as a laser drilled through 
his head, making him another decoration on the stone floor.  The interior 
decorators, Tera and Tigress, had just cleared the hallway they were in 
of guards, and sighed with relief.  Tera was shot on the right shoulder, 
but it was only a flesh wound, and the adrenaline alone was enough of a 
painkiller for him.  
	Tigress found a closed wooden door to another room, and seeing it 
locked, retreated back away.  With Tera close by with pistol ready, 
Tigress charged and laid a massive boot on the door.  A crash sound was 
followed by wood splinters flying out.  The door was busted open, and 
when the two bounty hunters burst inside, there were no one to shoot at.
	But the room was far from empty.
	Tigress widened her eyes in almost disbelief.  ÒGood Lordy......Ó
	The room was wall to wall of crates with bombs inside.  The lids were 
open, exposing the deadly bombs to the two Cadets, and Tera picked one up 
delicately.  ÒThis is no childÕs pipe bomb weÕre looking here, Tigress.  
From the looks of it, this bomb could pretty much blow up a large room 
into oblivion.Ó
	Tigress spotted something strange hidden amid hay straws in one of the 
crates.  She rubbed off the straws and saw what it was.  It was an 
electronic timer, flashing red numbers that was counting down.  Four 
minutes.
	ÒTera!  We need to get out of here!  Four minutes till this place 
blows!Ó
	The badger gasped in surprise.  ÒOh great!  I donÕt think thatÕs the 
only timer counting down around here!Ó  He yelled, and picked up his 
comlink close to his face.  ÒNat!  ThereÕs a bomb counting down from four 
minutes here!  Order everyone out of here!Ó
	ÒWill do so!Ó  Was NatlarnÕs frantic response.
	Tera nodded.  ÒOkay Tigress, letÕs get our tired tails out of this 
cat-prejudice stinkhole.Ó
	
	Haran knew he would fail to achieve his religious goals soon when he 
pushed the button that triggered the nine timers in the caves to count 
down.  He has lost his will to fight, and was now thinking about escape.  
When he pushed the pager button, he was hiding behind a crate along with 
three guards, firing back at three police officers.  When he realized 
that the officers had retreated suddenly, he knew that one of his timers 
had been spotted, and now the intruders were attempting to escape the 
caves before it collapses.  
	And I got to get my white tail out of here as well!!!
	One of the guards ran off to chase after the retreating officers, but 
the other two stayed.
	ÒWhat now, Great One?Ó  One of the guards asked him.  He didnÕt know 
about the timers counting down.
	ÒStay here.  I will leave, but I will be back,Ó Haran said cooly.
	The guard nodded.  ÒYes, Great One.Ó
	As Haran left, the same guard shook his head.  ÒI wonder why the 
officers left all of a sudden.Ó
	The other guard could only shrug.  The two never knew that their lives 
were about to be cut short.
	
	Man, are all police uniforms this itchy?  Shivan muttered as she 
buttoned up a green law enforcement uniform in an empty cave hallway.  
The dead female police officer lied down next to her feet, almost naked 
due to the fact that Shivan was putting on her uniform.  Shivan took 
great pleasure on snapping the officerÕs neck, for the victim just 
happened to be a large tabby cat.  Despite the sores she suffered during 
the fight minutes ago against that chinook, Shivan was alert enough to 
hear that crisp sound of a neck snap.  Too bad she was too hurt to grin.  
That would complete the scene.
	She finished dressing up, and carefully hid her scythe-knife under her 
belt and pants.  The blue beret which she gotten from the jaguar was 
rested on her head, but to deter suspicious, she had the golden hammer 
insignia in her right pocket.  Her mouth was as clean as she could make, 
but it was still bleeding.  She made one last look at the dead cat, 
dressed only on her undergarments, and laughed.
	She continued to walk on her way out of the caves, hoping she could 
successfully blend in with the people that wanted to hunt her down.  As a 
wolf wearing sheepÕs clothing, Shivan Tresley had made her escape.

	Lizbel was being treated for injuries when she spotted her husband 
running out of the caves.  ÒThank God he got out before time runs out,Ó 
she sighed with relief.  Gasping for breath, Darwin came up to the 
exhausted chinook, and shook his cougar head.  
	ÒGot in a fight?Ó
	The tawny-furred dog nodded.  ÒYep.  Against a caracal.  She seems to be 
quite a fighter.  It was tough fighting her, but I kicked her tapered 
tail.Ó
	ÒSo, you alright, Liz?Ó
	ÒKind of.  I almost got surgery under the scythe-knife that the caracal 
was carrying, but I canceled the operation, and gave the doctor some 
sleeping gas.Ó
	Darwin could only respond with a puzzled look.  ÒCould you repeat that?Ó

	Lizbel laughed, and kissed him on the cheek.
	Just then, the other two Firehawks pilots and the Justice Cadets came up 
to them.  ÒOne minute to go.  We got almost all the officers out.  Those 
that were still accounted for though,Ó Natlarn said.  ÒEleven police 
officers killed.Ó
	ÒWhat about Haran?Ó Darwin asked.  
	Natlarn shrugged.  ÒI talked with Chief Questia, and he says that the 
officers had failed to capture Haran Goresins.  He might die once the 
caves collapse on him though.Ó
	Lizbel was about to respond when a series of loud, earth-shaking 
explosions startled them.  As the police officers and fighter pilots 
watched, the caves groaned under the sudden beating it took by the blasts 
of a hundred bombs at once.  Huge chunks of rocks splintered out and 
rolled to the ground, landing with clouds of dust.  The caves continued 
to collapse and broken down for several minutes, trapping all that was 
inside, officers and A.C.L. members alike.  Including the leader, Haran 
Goresins.
	The dust soon cleared, and the Crima Caves were no more than a mess of 
fallen rocks and smashed corpses.  It served as a grave site for almost a 
hundred people, and this event had been etched in the memories in the 
peoples involved in it.  The reign of terror under the paw of Haran 
Goresins was over.  The Anti-Cat League, responsible for the deaths of 
almost two hundred victims, most of them domesticated cats, had collapsed 
with their hideout.  When the explosions occurred, it seemed that all the 
domestic cats in the entire Lylat System had let out a breath of relief.  

	Realizing that the A.C.L. had been utterly defeated, the surviving 
police officers let out a hearty cheer of victory, and that cheer would 
spread throughout Lylat whenever some news anchor would report the news 
in all planets and space stations.  Even though the Androssian War would 
continue to drag on, the bright side about this was that there would be 
one less major problem for both warring factors to worry about.

Chapter Eleven     

	ÒDo I believe Haran Goresins is dead?  Yes.  Do I believe that the 
Anti-Cat League is dead?  Yes.  Do I believe that the prejudice and 
racism hatred that fuels the League is dead?  No, no, a million times 
no.Ó
							--Darwin Dracka, Crimson Firehawks

	ÒPlease sit down, Mr. Poland.Ó
	The collie, donned in an orange prisonerÕs uniform, calmly sat down on a 
plastic chair behind a table, and was pawcuffed to the table for security 
reasons.  The stern-faced Maxwell Poland, the only A.C.L. member captured 
that had real power in the organization, could only stare silently as the 
blue-black cat on the other side of the table picked up several sheets of 
papers, and cleared his throat.
	The Corneria City Chief of Police, Drake Questia, was standing a few 
feet away behind the prisoner.  The greyhound was relieved that the 
stress of hunting down HaranÕs evil organization was over, but it has 
already taken his toll.  A week later, he had officially resigned from 
office.  
	Standing beside Drake was Tera Crista representing the Justice Cadets, 
and Dekslan Meneslan, representing the Crimson Firehawks.  The cat with 
the papers of names was the father of one of the terrorist bomb victims, 
and he was more than glad to take the offer to do this chore.
	ÒMaxwell Poland, as the representative of the Anti-Cat League, you are 
subject to hear the names of all victims killed under the terror that 
your organization had brought forth, domestic cat and non-domestic cat.  
Hear these names well, for when you die by lethal injection,  it will be 
the angels that used to be the victims that will support the Gods as they 
drag you straight down to the fiery bowels of Hell itself.  As you hear 
these names, I implore you to think about what their lives would be if 
your organization had not intervened and not cut them short.  Never again 
will they hear the joyful cries of laughter, feel sympathy for the 
downtrodden, mourn for lost loves, happy with high spirits, and help 
others.  Never again will they touch, taste, see, smell, and hear, and 
never again will they spend their days doing whatever the situations 
require them to do.  Never again, all because of you and your dastardly 
organization.Ó
	The cat cleared his throat again, and read the names out loud.  ÒSilanda 
McVela, age 17.  Raymond Trenda, age 46.  Drake Mendeia, age 2.  Jack 
Pren, age 78.......Ó
	As the names continued to shatter the silence of the room in the 
Corneria City police station, Maxwell Poland said nothing, and showed no 
emotion, which the others expected.  When the cat had reached the name of 
Jessica Hemet, he almost chocked with sorrow, for Jessica was his only 
daughter.  He said her name with a noticeable tone of mourning in his 
voice, and continued on.  ÒGregmond Salwa, age 13.  Yesenia Valderez, age 
27.  Jason Fredericka, age 36.  Zack Rockan, age 11......Ó

The End