Star Fox is copyright Nintendo. The Road to Ruin theme belongs to me.
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Lylat.
A system of planets, asteroid fields, and stars located in the distant regions of the galaxy. This region of space started out as a haven, its leadership in the form of the Lylat Republic. It's capitol world, Corneria, flourished with time and evolution, as did many other Lylatian planets. The economy was strong, society thrived, and the people lived in peace and harmony for centuries. It seemed that there was little that could bring down the great nation, and no one dared think twice about it for many years.
However, like the great empires of Ancient civilizations throughout the galaxy, even the Republic could not stand against the test of time. War, political conflict and discrimination tore away at the Lylat System and shattered the fragile unity of the Republic. While new factions rose and fell, the Republic still lasted through the strife, and would remain the dominant nation as Lylat entered the darkest times of its existence, known as the Age of Terror...
MacBeth Industrial Federation
Diamond City Mining Base of Operations
011.1192, 1012 Hours
Hot.
From within his office in Diamond City, Master Sergeant William "Billy" Pinkerton sweated up a storm as he watched over the mining operations below. The large pig wore a smile on his face, his optimism highly apparent as he watched the miners move about quickly in an attempt to extract MacBeth's abundant resources. Still, even his happiness couldn't defer the fact that MacBeth was a hot and vicious planet. A fan at the other side of the room blew strong gusts of air at Pinkerton, but did little to stop the sergeant from producing more sweat than Aquas did water. Pinkerton would've rather been on Aquas now, swimming in the endless oceans, or kicking back with an ice cream cone on the ice-world of Fortuna.
Of course, anyone else on MacBeth would've wished the same. At this point, anyone would've rather died than to keep working, but that wasn't someone anyone would actually wish for.
Pinkerton was about to let himself drift off when an officer entered the room. Pinkerton blinked as he eyed the man.
"Yeah?"
The officer, a squirrel, handed Pinkerton a communications report.
"Sir, there's an incoming transmission from Corneria, Priority One."
Pinkerton snorted. "P-One? Must be the President. Or my ex-wife." He snickered as he reached for the report. "I'll patch it through myself. Dismissed."
The squirrel saluted and left. Grunting as he straightened in his chair, Pinkerton pressed a button on his desk to bring up the transmission screen. Due to the interference coming from the machinery operating outside, the image on the screen was distorted and almost unrecognizable. Pinkerton could make out the outline of some sort of fox, but anything beyond that was a mystery waiting to be answered.
"Master Sergeant Pinkerton here," the pig said. "Who's this?"
"General Drake McCloud, Republic Air Force Command," the voice replied. "I was hoping you might have an update for us on guard formation in Diamond City and MacBeth's orbit."
"Oh, s'that it?" Pinkerton replied, snorting. "Well, the men you sent here aren't doin' much good to anyone. All they've done the past three days is sit up there in space, doing Lord knows what with their free time."
"And the MacBeth Guard?"
"Ready fer anythin'," Pinkerton replied. "'Course, bored as hell too."
"Well, that's a good sign, anyway," McCloud replied. Pinkerton rubbed the stubble on his chin in thought.
"General Drake McCloud, is it? I can never keep up with Republic military leaders nowadays. When you've lived on MacBeth for as long as I have, you tend to lose track of the life around you."
"So I've noticed," McCloud replied. "Fortunately, yours truly and other military leaders noticed the situation rising from the Darklands, and thought it best that you be prepared for anything."
"I believe I've heard of that," said Pinkerton. "They say there's pirates from some makeshift union o' theirs lurking 'round here. Pro'bly just some pirate scum lookin' to scare up some profit. No matter, though. We got Red Rover Squadron up here. They'll handle em real good." The sergeant laughed as he finished his words. The vulpine on the other end bore no similar expression.
"I'm glad to hear it. The Senate hasn't exactly risen to the occasion yet, so what you see is what you'll get. Regardless of what you're facing out there, I want you to be on high alert. Everyone knows that space pirates tend to go awol in combat, especially if they're losing."
"I'll keep that in mind, General McCloud," The sergeant replied, grinning.
"See that you do, Sergeant Pinkerton." A pause punctuated the General's response. "Is the mining operation coming along nicely?"
"Sure is, General," Pinkerton answered. McCloud nodded.
"Then I'll expect to hear from you when the first pipelines are up."
"Roger, General. I'll give ya an update in twelve standard hours."
"Fine. Command out."
As the image faded, Pinkerton scratched his armpit, and returned his attention to the mining groups below. His sweat-stained tanktop rode up on his large stomach, and he found himself fumbling for a uniform top as he prepared himself for arrival on the surface. While General McCloud could only see his face - he hoped that was all, anyway - the miners would see a whole lot more. As comfortable as Pinkerton was walking around in his current attire, it would be best for the department's reputation if he kept to the dress code. Besides, all he had to do was walk the corridors for a few minutes, then he could return to his office and resume his business.
Approaching the elevator to the main floor, Pinkerton waved for his two aides, a rabbit and a cheetah, to join him. The two aides, dressed in the traditional uniforms of the MacBeth National Guard, saluted and fell into place behind him. Pinkerton ignored their presence as he began to survey the mining facilities in Diamond City. Being a corporate world, MacBeth housed valuable resources and many of the weapons and craft facilities owned by neutral entrepreneurs. Pinkerton had agreed to post a military base there, just in case the Lylat Republic needed to intervene. Apparently, that time had come. A little scuffle wasn't exactly what Pinkerton hoped for, but at least it was something.
This moment of tranquility was abruptly brought to an end as the base shook violently beneath Pinkerton's feet. Shocked, the giant pig fell backwards, landing with a loud metal thud against the steel floor. He groaned in pain for a little while before sitting up.
"What the hell was that?" He looked back to see his two aides lying face down on the ground, both unconcscious. A corporal wearing a flight suit rushed over and offered Pinkerton his hand.
"Sir, the base has come under attack," he said, his eyes wide with disbelief. Pinkerton's soon followed suit.
"What? By who?" Before the corporal answered, the crackling of static came over the loudspeaker, followed by a dark, eerie voice Pinkerton didn't recognize.
"Allow me to answer that."
In his confusion, Pinkerton pulled out his blaster and pointed it the loudspeaker. It took him a moment to realize what he was aiming at wasn't a useful target. "Who the hell're you, and why are you attackin' us?"
A faint chuckle preceded the voice's next words. "I am a representative of the Darklands Pirate Confederacy. This territory is to come under our power, and we will take it by force if necessary."
Pinkerton grinned in amusement. The Pirate Confederacy? Boy are these guys dreamin'.
"Well, Mr. Pirate Guy," Pinkerton countered, "I'm Sergeant Billy Pinkerton, field commander for the MacBeth Industrial Federation and associate of the Republic, and I'm afraid that's an offer I...can refuse. MacBeth is a corporate world with financial ties to the Republic, and it won't be handed over to a pathetic group of wannabe generals and their ragtag armies."
"Pathetic?" the voice replied. "Wannabe? Ragtag? Surely you're not associating those words with the Confederacy."
"You're damn right I am." Pinkerton snorted. "What's the matter? You gonna go cryin' home to daddy now?"
Silence. It would be a while before the voice returned, far colder than Pinkerton had originally heard. "I recommend that you do the crying, Sergeant Pinkerton. You have ten seconds to change your mind."
"Don't bother counting. The answer is no. No halfwitted scumbag's gonna scare me into giving up an entire planet."
"A half-witted scumbag, maybe," the voice replied, "but that's not what you're dealing with. Excuse me a moment while I assemble my Negotiation Committee."
"There's nothin' to negotiate, pirate."
A crude chuckle. "No. There isn't."
As Pinkerton turned to proceed back to his office, his comm pad beeped. Grumbling, he pulled it out and turned it on.
"Pinkerton here."
"S-Sergeant," the voice on the other end stammered, "y-y-you need t-to s-see...y-you n-n-need...s-see...oh God!"
The officer's voice faded as another blast shook the base. When Pinkerton rose again, all he could get was static. He cursed and turned to the corporal that was still at his side.
"Get me readouts from the nearest observation deck." The corporal saluted and ran off. As Pinkerton walked to the window, he could see smoke billowing from above the main scout tower. As his eyes trailed upwards, he finally found the source of the violent blasts.
It was a battlecruiser; old, but oddly marked and refurbished. As the hulking craft fired again, Pinkerton noted ion beams on the front hull, and an array of concussion missiles and nova bombs falling from the underbelly. Pinkerton was transfixed on the sight as he lifted his comm.
"Tower One!" he yelled. No response. Same with Tower Two. It wasn't until Tower Three that a response returned.
"Sergeant, they're targeting our Scout Towers! Requesting evacua-"
Before the officer could finish, another blast from the battlecruiser reduced the tower to rubble. All that left was Tower Four.
"Tower Four, evacuate to central station, double time!".
"Yes sir!" Pinkerton switched frequencies on his comm and tried another post.
"Spacestation MacBeth-Alpha, this is Sergeant Pinkerton...do you copy?"
A static-filled and incomprehensible response came back over the comm. Pinkerton cursed.
"Spacestation MacBeth-Alpha, there's some interference...can you compensate?"
"No, they cannot." The dark voice chimed again, echoing over the loudspeakers. Pinkerton turned and growled, his eyes blazing with fury.
"What are you doing?"
The voice laughed at him. "I must commend the forces you have up here in orbit, Sergeant," it replied. "They actually almost put up a fight. The Red Rover Squadron, was it? What a shame, I believe that was one of your finest."
"Damn you!" Pinkerton screamed, throwing his comm pad at the speaker. "Damn you and yer trickery!"
"I'm afraid it is you who face damnation here and now, Sergeant." The voice grew cold and metallic through the speakers. "Your base is being reduced to rubble. Your forces on the ground and in space are destroyed. There is no hope for reinforcements, even if your communication systems functioned." A pause. "Being the 'fair' representative that I am, I will give you a choice; Surrender MacBeth, and join our fight against the Republic, or prepare to be the first of many Republic officers who will fall in defense of their territories."
Rage flared in Pinkerton's eyes. "Go to Hell, you son of a bitch!" he spat.
"After you." As Pinkerton turned to the window, his eyes connected with a super concussion Missile, its sharp nose directed towards him.
Moments later, Sergeant Pinkerton, the MacBeth Guard, and Diamond City in its entirety, were just a memory.