A/N: Howdy doody everyone, general furfurfurfurfurfurfurfurFUR here, and I'm here to bring you this little thing I've been working on for the past nine months: Star Fox: The First Generation. Just a couple things I want to hit before we dive on into the story itself, sound good? (Those of you who aren't just skipping this)
First off, this story is done. As in, every last bit of it has been written. The only changes I'm making here are cosmetic in nature. Fixing typos (lemme know if you see any, I guarantee I'll miss a few), making sure formatting looks decent, and making the occasional edit for continuity. Beyond that, this baby is locked. Now, I know what you're saying "Well then how will my input have any impact on furfur's writing then?" AH HA! Because, this story was a tremendous experiment for me. It is the longest story I have ever done by far, and the most complicated. So I need your suggestions. I need your critique. I need to know what worked. I need to know what you didn't like. Then, I can take all that into account as I write the next BIG THING. And, of course, you know my standard disclaimer that I might not always agree blah blah blah we're really talking about the sex here.
Second, this story is, at times, pretty OC heavy. I'm fairly certain I've made a good, solid cast of likeable, and in some cases utterly unlikable OCs. There's no fifteen year old human male with nike shoes or anything like that. This is just fair warning. I have lots of OCs, and in this era of Star Fox history, they're really needed to flesh out the story. So please, give them a chance, and just think of them as characters rather than OCs.
So, final note here. This story is M. It is M for a reason. There's sex. Plenty of it. James is incorrigible. That much I have learned. And Vixy's no slouch either. If it ain't yo thang, that's okay, but it sure isn't going anywhere. I think KS Reynard summed up my writing as "sex, sex, sex with role reversal, fade to black sex..." and all that. So...sure? I mean, I like it, the characters like it, and I'm certainly capable of writing stories without it *cough* Power of the Ancients *cough cough*. Now we're gonna move on.
Move on to where? The STORY! But first...a shout out to Groundis. My awesome friend Groundy Boundy Woundy, who was there for every line of this story, offering advice, keeping me going, keeping me in line, and reminding me to tell a story and not a universe. Thank you Groundy. This one is dedicated to you!
Oh and, I probably won't be doing author's notes on every chapter. I'll do 'em on some, if I think it's warranted. But other than that, start reading! Because iz gun be gud!
-FURfurFURfur
Star Fox: The First Generation
By FurFur
Chapter One
Here's Where the Story Begins
"Star Fox, you are cleared for landing."
"Tower, this is Star Fox lead, we're coming in. Out." James McCloud nudged his fighter from the holding pattern they'd been maintaining for the last few minutes. He and his team were returning from an escort run that had taken them from Katina to Zoness, protecting a convoy of military supply shuttles. It wasn't the sort of glamorous job that James had dreamed of a year ago when he founded Star Fox, but it paid well enough, and it kept them in the rotation of merc teams in the Defense Force's good graces.
Beneath them, the blue and green orb of Corneria turned gently on its axis. In the distance James could see the brief flashes of visible light that indicated a ship coming out of or entering warp drive, the modern marvel that had made interstellar travel possible. Also visible from their orbital position, climbing out of Corneria's atmosphere like a single finger reaching for the stars, was the Corneria City space elevator. There were seven of them on Corneria, one for each of the major spaceports. Blue lights pulsed up and down them at incredible speed, each of them a pod carrying passengers and cargo up from the city, and down from the station at the top of the elevator.
Checking behind him he saw his two teammates, Peppy Hare and Archer Lynx, maintaining formation behind him. Each of them were piloting the Switch-Wing, a multipurpose, good all around fighter craft that had been in use in and around Lylat for close for a decade. The Switch-Wing resembled a delta symbol, with two long, thin wings stretching in a V behind the fuselage, and two Inertial-diffusers, referred to as I-diffusers, nestled between the wings and the main body. The craft's versatility, along with its engines being rated for interplanetary flight, and the relatively few maintenance headaches compared to most other fighters of its type, had made it James' ideal choice for team Star Fox's signature fighter.
Breaking through the cloud layer above Corneria City the three fighter craft angled in for their assigned landing strip. The majesty of Corneria City spread out beneath them. Home to more than ten million people, Corneria City was nestled along the northeastern coast of the planet's largest continent, Geas. Stretching for miles beyond the main city were the seemingly endless tracts of suburbs, all arrayed in an almost obsessive compulsive design of neat grids that formed a semicircle around the central city.
Off the coast a group of three small islands dotted the clear, sparkling ocean water. Tall silver towers sprang from one of them, projecting like the spokes of a crown around the long, transparent arch of the Cornerian Mall. The other two had been left to nature, one having become a city park, with paths and small, manicured clearings visible, while the other had been left wild and designated as a nature preserve.
Looking down at it all from the sky, James couldn't help but voice his wonder. "It never gets old."
"What doesn't?" came the gruff baritone of Archer Lynx.
"The city," James replied. "The average skyscraper down there? Twice as high as the tallest building on Papetoon. And don't even get me started on the variety of stuff you can find when you go shopping. Hell, the Cornerian Mall's got more stuff in it than half of Dejima's stores combined."
"Corneria's a lot richer than Papetoon," Peppy pointed out. "So it makes sense. Lot more industry and trade, too."
"Yeah," James agreed. "But it still blows my..."
He didn't get a chance to finish his sentence. There was a roaring noise of engines, and all of sudden he felt his Switch-Wing shake from the turbulence caused by a passing fighter craft. The craft, somewhat similar in design to the Switch-Wings, but with wings positioned in an almost straight, perpendicular line from the back of the fuselage, flew past them, probably sparing only a few meters of distance. As the craft shot back up into the cloud layer it did a jaunty little aileron loop, and James could swear he saw the pilot giving them a sarcastic half salute. "Asshole," James muttered. "What the hell was that?"
"No idea," said Peppy, sounding more miffed than angry. "Must be a fine pilot to be able to pull off a buzz like that though."
"Or one with a death wish," Archer said. "I recognize the fighter though."
"What is it?" James asked. "Prep for final approach."
"Prepping," came the response from both his teammates. Archer continued, "Looks like an Arwing. Experimental space superiority fighter from Space Dynamics. G-diffuser system is supposed to give it the best maneuverability of any fighter craft, past or present."
"You mean an I-diffuser, right?" Peppy said.
"No. According to Space Dynamics the G-diffuser is the next step in that category of technology. Gonna make the I-diffuser obsolete in five, ten years," Archer explained, clearly in his element when talking about fighter technology. It was because of that intimate knowledge that James trusted him with the maintenance of the team's Switch-Wings. Few people could match Archer's instincts or knowledge about them and most other spacecraft.
"All very interesting," James said. "I still think whoever is piloting this "Arwing" is an asshole."
Both Peppy and Archer chuckled as they brought their fighters in for a landing. Reducing speed as they approached the airstrip the three of them maintained perfect formation while transforming from aircraft to walker, hitting the ground running, then slowing as they approached the hangar at a walk. The doors opened and the three pilots trotted in. James keyed in the deactivation sequence, and the fighter lowered itself to the ground, curling up so that he could hop to the ground without fear of injury. Giving the ship a pat on the nose James looked to his two teammates and said, "I guess we better check in with the colonel."
Peppy and Archer nodded, and the three of them left the landing field. As soon as they had stepped out of the hangar James felt his communicator start buzzing. Prizing it out of his pocket he took a quick look through his messages, sighing as he saw that not one of them was work related. "Typical."
"Lemme guess," said Archer, "No job offers, but plenty of vixens asking if you're back yet?"
"Shut up." James threw his friend a cocky grin, ignoring Peppy's disapproving head shake. The hare, despite the stereotypes surrounding his species, was painfully monogamous when it came to female company. He'd been dating his girlfriend Vivian for two years now, and he hadn't so much as looked at another woman since. To James this was incomprehensible, while to Peppy it made perfect sense.
Exiting the landing field they hitched a ride on the overground train into Corneria City. James held onto one of the hand railings, his mind wandering back to the pilot who had buzzed them on their way in. That sort of behavior was pretty typical on planets like his home world, Papetoon. Back on Papetoon or Fichina, where government was small and respect for the law stopped at the local Federation Marshal, buzzing a few single person ships as they came in was really nothing more than an enthusiastic hello. But on Corneria? James was hard pressed to think of any Cornerian behaving that recklessly. He pushed those thoughts aside. For now he needed to focus on giving a report to the colonel, and then collecting the payment they'd need to tide them over until the next job swung around.
After a few minutes the train entered the city and the team disembarked to catch the underground train to the Lylat Federation Defense Force Headquarters. The humid warmth of a Corneria City summer hit them full force, made worse by the tighter quarters of the city. Not only did they have to contend with the heat from the blue orb of Lylat hanging fat in the sky, they also had to contend with the heat from the millions of people crowding the streets. Not only that, but the tall buildings of Corneria City's skyscrapers blocked much of the ocean breeze, giving the the air a still, muggy feeling.
At least back home on Papetoon it's a dry heat, James thought to himself. The three men made their way through the crowd and down the stairs to street level. It was a bit less crowded down there, and James felt a blissful nasal relief as his sensitive canid nose detected less body scent and more plant life. The streets themselves were lined with tall trees, small gardens, and colorful flower patches.
The entrance to the underground train system was only a short walk away, and they made it there quickly. The train station, with white tiled walls covered in flashy advertisements and the occasional self updating newsboard, were free of the graffiti typical of similar stations on other worlds. James had never quite figured out if that was because the Cornerians were very fastidious about removing it as soon as it appeared, or if people in the city genuinely weren't interested in graffiti. Probably a bit of both.
The subway was as crowded as ever, so James allowed Archer to take the lead. Not only was the lynx a native of Corneria City, but he was also far burlier than either James or Peppy, and seemed able to clear a path without the slightest effort. The three of them swiped their cards at the security gate, and then quickly made their way to the train itself.
Corneria City's subway system was centuries old, and had been through more renovations and reinventions than many historians could count. A soft, feminine computerized voice announced the arrival of another train, and once again Archer cleared the three of them a spot with little issue. The doors shut and the train kicked into motion, though without the windows one would never have known. Cornerian subways had full inertial dampening. Yet another thing that boggled James's mind. It didn't bother him so much as strike him as unnecessary. It was unnecessary, even if it did make the ride a bit more comfortable. Still, sometimes James found himself missing the more rickety, twisty turny feeling of Dejima's metro rails on Papetoon.
Next to him Peppy let out a harumph as he stared out the windows as the tunnel flashed by. "What is it Pep?" James asked.
"Just thinking," Peppy replied. "Thinking about how you can travel from one end of Corneria City to another, and barely see darn a thing."
The train car came to a stop and the doors opened, the three of them piling out with the rest of the passengers. Once they'd cleared the area, James said, "Peppy? Remind me to teach you some swear words. Because 'darn' is just not befitting of a mercenary."
"You'll never corrupt me with you decadent, immoral ways James," Peppy replied, a teasing glint in his eye.
"I don't know, just gimme a few more years," James said, tail wagging. Peppy had always been his superego, and despite sticking with James through all his antics, from childhood pranks to teenaged stunts, as well as his near constant forays into the mature art forms of interpersonal relations, he remained maddeningly incorruptible.
"Never happen," Peppy replied, rubbing at his mustache as they climbed the stairs back out into the blistering Cornerian afternoon. A soft ocean breeze reached them here though, courtesy of the beachfront property that the Federation Defense Force Headquarters was built on.
"Wanna bet?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't believe in gambling," Peppy replied.
James groaned. "You do too. I've seen you playing poker."
Peppy just shrugged enigmatically, his expression unreadable.
"Give it up James, it's not worth the ulcer," Archer advised him, a tiny smirk curling his short feline muzzle.
"But then he wins," James said, shaking his head.
Peppy just chuckled. "I always win. You shoulda learned that by now."
It was a short walk to the Defense Force HQ. Occupying about two kilometers along the beach, the entire complex was built around a single, massive tower. Roughly cylindrical in shape, the tower would have been the subject of numerous rude jokes were it not for the large, upside down cone that rested on the summit like a mushroom cap. Resting on that cap were numerous antenna, all of them connecting to satellites and communications arrays throughout the Lylat System and beyond.
Arriving at the security gate they each produced their passes, were waved through, and then hopped onto one of the robot driven jeeps. "Central tower," James told it. The robot nodded and the jeep kicked into motion.
As the jeep transported them to the tower, James took the opportunity to look around the base. Despite being a military installation, there was still considerable thought given to aesthetics and comfort. Small green areas were dotted throughout, with fountains and benches, as well as awnings placed on the buildings to provide shade to troopers as they stood watch. And, true to Cornerian custom, each barracks they passed was surrounded by a small garden, maintained by the personnel quartered there. It certainly provided a stark contrast to the brutal, efficiency minded outposts produced by the Eladardians, or the underwater bases built by the Anglars on Venom.
The jeep stopped in front of the central tower, and the Star Fox team piled out. Fluttering in the breeze, the flag of the Lylat Federation stood tall alongside the planetary flags of each of its members. Special care had been taken to ensure that no flag stood in a higher or more visible position than its counterparts, this having stemmed from a desire to emphasize that all worlds were equal in the Federation's sheltering embrace. Still, whenever James looked at them, he always found his eye inexorably drawn to the simple blue background and olive branches of the Federation. Whether this was because of a subtlety in the layout of the flags or simply a matter of his personal feelings he had yet to discover.
They ascended the steps to the main doorway, then entered the cool, airconditioned interior. The lobby of the Lylat Defense Tower was, at first glance, given over more to form than function. The marble floors gleamed with polish, small gardens paralleled the intended walkways, and security cameras and devices were kept inconspicuous and, where that wasn't possible, integrated into the surrounding decoration. The apparent softness had never fooled James. Upon his first visit he had seen that, despite the window dressing, everything was positioned to make the interior as defensible as possible. While the Federation and its military believed in putting people at ease, the better to keep the peace, they were more than capable of bringing down the hammer when they wanted to. There's a reason no one has challenged the Federation in over seventy years, James reminded himself.
Approaching the main desk the male vulpine put on his best smile for the receptionist. A brunette poodle with brown fur, she wore a patch that identified her as part of the civilian branch of the Administrative Corps. Seeing James approach she looked up at him with a lively smile and a little wag of her tail. "Captain McCloud, how good to see you again."
"Hi Jamie," James said, leaning on the desk with his elbows. "Busy?"
"Never too busy for you," she said, batting her eyelashes at him.
"Good to know," James replied, giving her a wink.
"Oh brother," Peppy muttered.
"I assume you're here to see the colonel?" Jamie asked.
"Yep," James nodded. "Just a quick debrief. We should be scheduled."
"Let me check," Jamie said, tapping away at her computer. "Mmhmm, got you right here. I'll let his aide know you've arrived. So, you free tonight?"
"Why how forward," James said, smirking. "But yes, I am. Why?"
"You know why," Jamie replied, waggling her eyebrows at him.
James grinned and said, "Your place, around nine?"
"Make it eight-thirty and it's a deal. I'm working in the morning," Jamie responded, tail wagging at gale force.
"You got it. See ya then," James said, his own tail wagging as he walked off, Peppy and Archer following behind him.
"I'm not even going to bother reminding you how unprofessional that is," Peppy groused.
Calling a lift, James said, "Last time I checked the Defense Force doesn't have any regulations about romance between civilians."
"We're not civilians James," Peppy replied. "We're independent defense contractors. And besides, that's not what I call romance."
"So it's a casual hookup. And you're right, we're mercs not civilians." James nodded, stepping onto the lift. "But, according to our independant contract, we are not bound by the same sorts of rules and regulations we would be if we were actual military. Besides, she's a civilian too, she just happens to work for the Defense Force, so what's the harm?"
Peppy just shook his head. "Like I said, I've given up arguing with you."
Glancing at Archer, James said, "Back me up here."
"Oh no." Archer waved a hand in front of his chest. "You're on your own with Peppy."
"Coward," James responded, though he wagged his tail to let his friend know he didn't mean it. Hitting the button for the twenty-third floor, James held the door open for a pair of female enlisted personnel, both of them loaded down with files, then asked and hit the button for the floor the two women needed. The lift began its ascent, and James tried his best to resist the temptation to flirt with the two of them. Okay, so maybe he has a point that I can go a little overboard. But Jamie and I are friends, so who cares? Not like I haven't gotten all the immunizations. Oi, whatever.
The doors opened at the seventeenth floor and the two enlisteds got out. A few moments later the three of them arrived at their floor, stepping into the colonel's outer office. His aide, a bulldog, let them through immediately, and James and his companions stepped into a rather plush workspace. Though not overwhelmingly large, the office was comfortably spacious, with a desk, a few chairs and a coffee table for a sitting area, and a window looking out on the Corneria City bay. Sitting behind the desk, dressed in the red and gold Cornerian Army Air Corps uniform, sat Colonel Cornelius Pepper, a tough as nails hound dog who, despite being a distinguished participant in numerous Federation peacekeeping missions, looked quite comfortable commanding from behind his desk. It was a mode of thinking that James would never understand. In his mind he always had to be on the frontline, taking the fight to the enemy, not simply ordering people into battle and watching events unfold on a holoscreen. Even so James felt a healthy degree of respect for Pepper, helped in no small part by the fact that the colonel was the one signing their paychecks. "Colonel," James said, managing an almost perfect salute.
Standing up, Pepper returned the salute, motioning them all to the chairs in front of his desk. James sat down in one, briefly considering whether to put his feet up on the desk before deciding against it.
Settling himself back down, Pepper said, "So, I assume all was quiet?"
"Yes sir," James replied. "Not so much as a micro-meteoroid."
Pepper nodded. "Good. The convoy commander said much the same. I'll expect the standard forms in my inbox, but I'll go ahead and transfer the fee tonight."
"Thanks colonel," James said. "I'm sure we'll be living off it for a few months between jobs."
"Actually," Pepper said, the hint of a smile curling his jowls, "I may have something for you."
James leaned forward, interested, as did Peppy and Archer. "Yes sir?"
"You've heard of the Arwing project over at Space Dynamics?"
"Yeah, we got buzzed by one of those things today." James frowned, once again wondering who had been behind the flightstick for that one.
"I'm not surprised. There's a rather...eclectic mix of test pilots for the prototype. Some of them are a bit cockier than they maybe should be, and that's where you come in," Pepper explained.
"How so, sir?"
"If you're interested, I'd like to get you set up in simulator runs at Space Dynamics," Pepper told them. "I know you haven't seen a huge amount of action, but I've seen the kind of flying you can pull off in those Switch-Wings. I'd like to put you three, in Switch-Wings, up against a single simulated Arwing."
"That sounds like a slaughter, sir," James said, intrigued.
"Maybe. Maybe not. Interested?"
"How much are we talking?"
"Highest fee I can give you, if you take the job," Pepper said, grinning when he saw the astonished looks on their faces. "The project budget is a bit padded, but we don't want it cut. You know how it is."
"Sure," James answered, not interested in looking a gift zontar in the mouth. "You got a file for us?"
Pepper nodded, handing each of them a memory card. James took his and slotted it into his phone, the device downloading the stored information. Memory cards might have been a bit archaic, but they were considered more secure than transferring sensitive information via a datastream. James scrolled through the information, memorizing locations and times as he went. After about a minute he looked up and said, "We'll do it."
"Excellent," Pepper said, clearly pleased. "I'll be there for observation, don't be late."
Seeing that the meeting was over, James stood, gave another almost passable salute, then left the office with his team. When the door shut behind them James pumped his fist. "Yes! We are so rich!"
Peppy and Archer were both grinning, eagerly anticipating an easy payday. "We should celebrate," Archer said.
James nodded. "We should. Everybody go home and get changed, we'll hit a restaurant for dinner, then I have a date."
"That's not a date," Peppy said, though he smiled.
"Fine," James said. "I have a booty call, would you rather I say that?"
"Ehhh." Peppy shrugged, then clapped his friend on the shoulder. "I can't stay mad at you."
"I'm too loveable," James replied, grinning even wider at his friend. "Now come on, let's go."
Sitting in his office at the top of Space Dynamics HQ, Argus Phoenix remarked once again on just how far he had come in a few short years. When he had started Space Dynamics he had never intended to build it into the emerging megacorp it was. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He'd thought about it, considered the potential, and weighed the risks. Argus never did anything out of simple instinct. The idea of a "business instinct" was, in his opinion, the most ridiculous concept he could imagine. No, he had studied the data, the market, and then decided that maybe, with a few good moves, he might be able to make it in. Make it in as a niche supplier of high end space craft that is. But, as he'd made one move after another, one decision after the next, the sum of those actions had built up at an alarming rate. His designs were continually heralded as innovative and inventive, special and unique, and, consequently, they were now in high demand. And so now, instead of making ends meet with a small business, designing pleasure yachts and the occasional custom fighter craft, Argus was sitting at the top of a skyscraper, looking out at a gorgeous Cornerian afternoon, with visions of the most impossible, improbable, and beautiful designs spinning in his head.
The intercom on his desk buzzed, and Argus swiveled in his functional, comfortable, low backed chair to tap the answer button. "Yes?"
"Mr. Niles is here to see you, sir," his secretary's voice filtered through the speaker.
"Send him in," Argus replied. Running a hand through his short, sandy hair, Argus glanced around his office, making sure everything looked right. The furniture was all metal frames and leather seats, very modern, very functional, and very professional. His own desk was made of fogged glass, and across from him the wall was adorned with a holographic projection of a desert landscape. Corneria City's warmth in this season agreed with him more than its winter, but Argus, a fennec, never felt quite right about non-desert climates. The air was always either too cold, or too humid.
The door to his office opened and Niles, the manager in charge of the Arwing's group of rowdy test pilots, walked in. Niles was an avian, a second generation immigrant from Zoness, and a capable, if unimaginative bureaucrat. He was just the sort of man who could drive a group of egotistical, generally unmanageable pilots to succeed. In him they saw authority and a lack of understanding, and so they were driven to rebel, which led to them doing the kinds of unconventional things that Argus enjoyed seeing. Confront them with the utterly conventional, and they'll proceed to do everything they can to be unconventional.
Standing up from behind his desk, Argus held out his hand to Niles. The avian shook it, his feathers causing a slight tickle against Argus's palm, which the fennec ignored. "Niles, good to see you. I take it things are going well?"
"Yes sir," Niles replied. Argus motioned for him to take a seat. "I have my recommendation for the combat simulator pilot."
"Good." Argus didn't mention that he'd already made his decision. He also didn't mention that he had a fair idea who Niles would be recommending. Sitting back down behind his desk, he folded his hands on top of his stomach. "Who did you have in mind?"
Opening his briefcase Niles extracted a tablet computer. Swiping the lock screen he tapped through a few screens, then sent the files he needed directly to Argus' computer. Argus pressed a small button on his glasses, and the information began scrolling across the lenses. "I suggest that we give the new position to miss Natasha Berezovsky."
Bingo, Argus thought to himself, keeping his expression neutral. "Oh?"
Niles nodded, handing the file over to Argus, who thumbed it open and made a show of carefully considering it. "She has high marks, the highest in flight safety, and, of course, my personal recommendation."
Of course she does. Hell, if she'd done what she did for him to me, I'm not sure I'd have been able to say no, either. Argus kept that to himself though. I can't fire him since he's friends with one of my biggest investors, but I'll be damned if I don't take him down a couple of pegs despite it. "Well, she seems good, but I don't think she's the right fit."
"Sir?" Niles looked puzzled, if not upset.
"I'm afraid I've decided on someone else," Argus continued. "I wanted a more...unconventional choice."
The avian grimaced at that word. Argus suppressed a smile. Oh how I know you hate that word. "May I ask who, sir?"
"Vixy Reinard." Argus had to hold back a tail wag at the shocked, uncomprehending expression that covered Niles' face. "I like her style," Argus went on. "Very ballsy. Any objections?"
"More than I can count sir," Niles responded. "However, I'm sure you already know all of them. Should I tell her?"
"No." Argus shook his head. "I'd like to meet with her first. I'll use your office. She is scheduled to be returning to the hangar soon, correct?" Niles nodded in confirmation. "Perfect. In the meantime why don't you break the bad news to miss Berezovsky?"
"Yes sir," Niles replied. "Anything else?"
"Nope." Argus leaned back in his seat a bit.
"Well then, I suppose I'll be going," Niles said, gathering up his file and clicking shut his briefcase.
He looked once more to Argus for permission, got a small nod, then headed for the door. Just as the avian opened the door, Argus smiled, wagged his tail, and said, "Oh and Niles? Cover the security cameras next time."
Niles's plumage raised in alarm, and he blanched in embarrassment. "Yes sir." Then the bird stepped out, shutting the door behind him a little quicker than perhaps etiquette allowed.
Argus knew from that reaction that he might end up paying for that one, but damn if it didn't feel good. Chuckling, Argus opened his files and grabbed up the one marked "Vixy Reinard" and said to himself, "Worth it." Then he settled in to do a little bit of prep work.
The Arwing came to a stop in the Space Dynamics hangar, its engine cycling down. The cockpit opened and a vixen of medium height and slender build hopped out, pulling her headset off and tossing it to the waiting tech. "Damn, that is one fast machine," she said, shaking out her shoulder length blond hair.
"Boss wants to see you," the tech called after her.
"Where is he?" she asked over her shoulder, hiding her dismay.
The tech pointed towards the office above the hangar bay. "Said right away, too."
Nodding, the vixen took the metal staircase leading up to the office. She had a feeling she knew what this was about. Being a test pilot for the Arwing program meant that her flights were monitored at all times, and there was no doubt in her mind that, once again, she would be getting a dressing down for reckless piloting. To a certain degree she could understand it. There was only one functional Arwing prototype in existence. That meant that the people in charge of the program were a naturally cautious bunch, and buzzing those Switch-Wings earlier was far from the first incident of unorthodox behavior on her record.
Reaching the top of the stairs she knocked on the door. "Come in," said a voice, filtered through the entryway.
She gave the doorknob a twist and walked in. The office was small, with a single desk, a couple of chairs, and a computer terminal. A floor to ceiling window looked out on the hangar below it. "Look Niles, we've been through this enough times that I think we should just skip...it..." Vixy turned around, having closed the door behind her, and found herself confronted not by her Space Dynamic's manager, Niles, but by a short, thin, orange furred fennec in slacks, a sweater vest with dress shirt, and a tie. His glasses were glowing with a scrolling datafeed. Not sure what to make of this, the vixen said, "You're not Niles."
The fennec killed the datafeed and looked up at her. "Vixy Reinard?"
Nodding, the vixen said, "That's me."
"Good." The fennec motioned to the chair in front of the desk. "Please, sit down."
Vixy did so, relaxing into it as best she could. "I assume this is about my buzzing those Switch-Wings earlier today."
"In part," the fennec replied. "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Argus Phoenix."
"Hi." Vixy sat a little straighter, but otherwise masked her surprise. "The Arwing is a nice ship."
Argus smiled. "Thank you. I designed her myself."
"I know." Vixy maintained her outward calm even as her mind began racing. What was the head of Space Dynamics, and the lead designer of the Arwing, doing in her manager's office, talking in cryptic sentences to her? "Should I be worried?"
"That depends," Argus replied, folding his hands in his lap.
Vixy grunted, not interested in playing this game. "Sir, no disrespect, but can we get on with it? I'd kinda like to take a shower and get something to eat."
That brought a smile to Argus's face. Chuckling he said, "Well that's refreshing."
"What is?" Vixy asked, confused.
"It's just that most people aren't that direct with me unless I tell them to be." Argus shrugged. "When you're head of one of the most valuable corporations in the galaxy, people tend to be afraid of offending you."
"I was born on Papetoon. I had more important things to worry about than courtesy," Vixy answered, though she smiled back at him.
"Farmer?"
"Dad owned a flower shop in Dejima," Vixy replied, still not sure where this was leading. "Mom worked at the local hospital."
"Hmmm." Argus looked considerate. "Why did you leave?"
"It was Papetoon," Vixy answered, bluntly. "Everyone wants to leave."
"Everyone?" Argus looked surprised.
"Everyone who wants to do something interesting with their life, at least," Vixy amended. "I wanted to do something interesting with my life."
"I see. Your parents weren't very interesting?"
"Is there a point to all this?" Vixy countered, feeling herself getting testy. She didn't care that this guy was so far above her pay grade she needed a telescope just to see his office. She was tired, hungry, and in need of a shower. No, a bath. That would be heavenly.
"Yes and no."
F my life. "What do you mean?"
"I mean," said Argus, demonstrating remarkable patience, "That I like to get to know the people I employ."
"Must be hard, considering Space Dynamics employs nearly a hundred thousand people on Corneria alone," Vixy pointed out.
"True." Argus leaned forward, placing his hands on the desk. "I'll get to the point."
Finally. "Thank you."
Chuckling again, Argus said, "You buzzed a trio of Switch-Wings today during your test flight. Correct?"
"Yes." Vixy smiled, relieved they'd finally gotten to the dressing down so she could get out of this office and her flight suit, and into something more comfortable.
"I like that."
It took Vixy a moment to comprehend that sentence. "Excuse me?"
Tail wagging softly behind the desk, Argus said, "I know your manager, Niles, has been riding your tail about unsafe behavior, but, frankly, the Arwing is a combat fighter. I very much doubt the people who will be flying the production model are going to be flying any safer than you are."
"That's what I told him," Vixy said, feeling encouraged. Finally, someone who understood that a craft like the Arwing wasn't meant to be flown like an airliner.
With a shrug, Argus said, "You'll have to forgive him, middle management tends to be a bit rule obsessed. That being said, I have a proposition for you."
"What is it?" Vixy asked, her curiosity piqued.
"How would you like to be the first pilot to take the Arwing through combat trials?"
Vixy's eyes widened. Combat trials? Oh this sounded good. She'd always wanted to be a fighter pilot, and to a certain degree she was, since she was test piloting a starfighter. But actual combat? She'd never really entertained the thought as a serious possibility. The only real way to do it would be to go to the Defense Force Academy, join the Army Air Corps, and spend her life bogged down by more rules and regulations than she could stomach. "Seriously?"
Argus nodded. "I considered all the other pilots in the program, and all of them are qualified, but you have something they don't."
"What?"
Argus smiled. "Balls."