"I am looking for Fox, Fox McCloud!" Weasel screamed at the barman over the loud music.
"I don't know no McCloud," said the barman, cleaning a glass with a polyjerkin cloth. "The only fox everyone comes to see here is Fox Star. Eyes up stage, pilgrim."
Weasel turned towards the stage. At the center of all the music, bass booms and treble waves, synced to the music, danced the most glamorous person he has ever seen. She had perfect rich hair, smooth fur, hypnotic hips and an enchanting look. It took him a while to remember why he had come here.
"No, I am looking for Fox McCloud, the pilot." He shouted again.
But no one was listening. The bartender had already moved on, serving other customers.
The other room was thick with holographic smoke. It melted dim lights and precision beams to create a heavy, slow atmosphere. It also gave parties seated around large round tables some semblance of privacy. Sounds from the main club floor, barely audible here, were drowned in the mass of hushed, murmuring voices.
"Excuse me," tried Weasel at the nearest table. "I am looking for Fox McCloud from Star Fox."
Some of the players questioningly glanced in his direction from their cards. Most quickly decided he was not worth their attention. A big lizard transitioned her cigar from the left corner of her wide mouth to the right and muttered.
"Excuse me?" Weasel came closer. The lizard carefully removed the cigar from her mouth, holding it with two clawed fingers.
"Yeah, right. He is in here. He is hiding underneath the table and is serving us aces as we need. Alongside with General Pepper and the Cornerian president." A couple of players and onlookers burst out laughing. It was a harsh, demeaning laughter.
Weasel did not want to attract unnecessary attention. This little episode has already made the bouncer start in his direction. He chose to delve deeper into the smoky hall. In just a couple of minutes he was able to find his way to the elevators. Needing a moment of privacy, he opted for the staircase instead.
Air in the hallway was cooler and sharper than inside club. It bore no reminiscence to the heavy asphyxiating atmosphere of the gambling hall. Weasel leaned against one of the walls. He pushed the back of his head against the surface, enjoying the cold touch. On the wall opposite to him were direction signs. Up to the bar, down to the games and simulations room. Simulations room! Of course. That was it. He quickly huddled down the stairs.
"You can't win, kid. Maybe you just wanna stop trying, huh?" The large, corpulent crocodile let out a humorous sound - a mixture of laughter and chortle. There was a small crowd around that particular simulation set. Four Arwing cockpits, four pilots. Or would be pilots, in some of the cases. Two of them were just chewing on corn and bacon jerky waiting for the next round. The gamer twins. A gepard and a giraffe. They were always around. Third was the crocodile, now leaning way out of the simulation cockpit, towards the fourth figure. A somewhat distressed young rabbit.
"Yeah, Give it to her, Vin. She thinks she is an ace." One of the onlookers cheered the crocodile on. The speaker was dressed in a similar fashion as Vin: Blue workman suit with yellow stripes. The mark of hangar freight pilots. Its bearer would navigate large freight containers that served for loading and offloading of heavy cargo and for organizing warehouse stock. There was a time when drones would do this work. But since the time Andross almost took over the star system with an army of autonomous crafts, there was a level of reluctance towards sentient machinery.
"I don't get it, Vin. Must be something wrong with the controls. Seriously, my flying is flawless!" The hare protested.
"Sure it is. Wanna switch cockpits again?" Majority of the crowd erupted in laughter.
A figure closest to the rabbit leaned forward.
"Your flying is great, Hop. You have the makings of a great pilot. The fact is, most young cadets in the academy fly similar to how you do - they strive for perfection in their movements with text-book execution. You know, tt looks great from the cockpit, but it makes your movements predictable to your enemies. If you allow your controls to be a little bit loose, it will take you to the next skill level. It may feel a little half baked at first, but it will grant you more flexibility and improved reaction time." The speaker had one arm around the hare's shoulders and the other on the control stick. With a soft wiggly motion, he was illustrating his point.
"Maybe you wanna sit-in, yourself, Roose?" Vin roared. "You know, so that, just for this once, you would be anything but all words and no action. Wanna show us all how it's done, professor?"
Roose, Hop's friend, looked at Vin. For a moment it seemed like he became someone else, like he got beset by a distant memory.
"You know I don't fly, Vin." He said quietly as he withdrew.
"Yeah. We know that, don't we, boys?" Vin roared.
"Maybe it's the reason the kid keeps losing to me. Listening to your advice." Vin got his big body out of the simulation cockpit. He was so large that stepping out was a process.
"Alright, we are done here. Come on boys. Let's check out the bar." He thudded out and the small crowd followed.
As new players jumped into the simulator arcades, Fox and Hop also headed out. Weasel, who had witnessed the whole scene was quick to follow.
"Mr. McCloud! Allow me a moment."
Reed and Hop were sat at a small table in a local coffee, overlooking the hangar. It was close to midnight and the place was empty but for them and the service. Everyone else had been gambling or at the bar, sleeping or working the night shift. The fox looked up from his drink. The rabbit had an alarmed look about him. Weasel knew then, his guess was right.
"You must be mistaken, my friend's name is Roose." Said the hare hurriedly. The fox waved to dismiss her protest.
"What do you want?" he asked the newcomer, without lifting his eyes from the pancake menu.
Weasel was nervously clutching his Derby. His white shirt suffered a number of stains over the long night and made him look mucky. He was exhausted. This was his moment, though.
"My name is Weasel. I am the secretary censor from Xosos - a small planet at the edge of a known system. In case you have not heard of it. Our planet is currently under attack and blockade by a neighboring force, Zubaria."
Fox gave him a brief look, but then quickly went back to his menu. He was past pancakes and on to the cake section now.
"The Zubarian force is much larger than ours and they are also using mercenary forces. As an outlying system, we don't really have strong alliances yet and are all but defenseless against the Zubarian threat."
"That sounds really bad." Fox said while going through the list of sweet foods.
Weasel pursed his lips and readjusted his monocle.
"The Zubarian army is using mercenary forces to put the pressure on us. They have blocked all trade routes, disabled our portal stations, communications with outside… I risked my life getting out to find you. It was not easy, let me assure you."
Fox finished reading the menu. All that was left was a blank page with a fine print of the restaurants business details at the bottom. He put the small booklet aside and looked Weasel in the eye.
"Well, you found me. However, I am afraid, I can't be of any help. Perhaps you have an army of your own?"
"We do," Weasel assured him. "However they are no match for the mercenary group that Zubarians hired against us."
"Why not hire mercenaries of your own then?" asked Hop.
Weasel nodded his head hurriedly, then shrugged and sighed. He took a chair from a nearby table and sat down.
"We tried. Of course we tried. But everyone just turned us down." Weasel pulled at his whiskers.
"Is it because their price was too high?" Hop took a guess.
"Not really, I mean, money is not the problem. We are not the wealthiest of countries, but when it comes to our survival… we are happy to approve extraordinary expenses."
"What's the problem then?" Asked Fox. He was getting tired, he did not appreciate the breach of his privacy and he was in no mood for mysteries. Weasel leaned forward. His hands checked his cufflinks with a mind of their own.
"You see, the Zubarian mercenary forces are led by a pilot who calls himself Darken."
Both Fox and Hop stared at him blankly. It took him a while to realize why.
"Oh, I see. You probably don't follow the scene very closely anymore. Darken is said to be the best pilot in the galaxy. As a mercenary, he became prominent over the past few years and has quickly attained a quite a legendary status. No one will stand against him."
"Nonsense!" Hop burst out. "Fox is the best. Everyone knows that."
Fox rested a hand on Hop's forearm to calm her down. He appreciated the youthful energy the rabbit had, but he was also aware it was years since he had last flown. He was tired of wars and fighting and in this conversation, he felt like a passerby. He could see how distressed Weasel had been, but he could not emphasize.
"Star Wolf?" He suggested.
The Xosian envoy shook his head.
"Star Wolf is no longer available for mercenary work. They don't do that anymore. And other pirates will not go against Darken."
Fox rose his eyebrows. He would love to know more about what Star Wolf was currently up to, but did not trust Weasel enough to engage the topic. He stood up.
"Well, as I said. I am sorry for your trouble. But there is nothing I can do for you. I am done with wars and fighting, I am done with flying. Done with all that. I am sorry you wasted your time. I hope you will be able to find help elsewhere."
Hop looked puzzled. She could not conceive why a hero such as Fox would so easily refuse to provide his assistance.
"But Mr. McCloud, what will happen with my country?" Weasel called after him. The departing Fox turned to give him one final answer:
"How should I know? Sign a peace treaty with the Zubarians, become a federation… Whatever it is that countries do. These guys don't sound too friendly, but they surely ain't no Andross. Now, if you will finally excuse me, it has been a very long day."
Weasel sank back to his chair, as Fox left behind both him and the disilussioned hare.
Author notes:
First, apologies for the changes to the story - this is my first submission and I was not aware of a number of things. Posted the whole story first, then as chapters, finally got a friendly advice to drip chapter by chapter. So some of you have the full story by now, up to you whetheryou want to keep or resync to go by chapters. Overall, this should result in a better experience for all readers, as some of the chapters are currently very short and I may amalgamate them into larger wholes.
Second, I want to thank everyone who has read this far. This story helped me deal with some personal stuff and I am thankful for that. I also want to give full credit to Frostclaw01, who has a number of great Star Fox stories on here. Some of their work was treated as cannon in my own story.
Third, I want to call out Daniel Tidwell's cover of Corneria (as well as all of his VG work) - simply amazing, feel free to look it up.
I am happy for any feedback you will give me, either via here or via PM. I will try my best to respond to all.
I had one hell of the time writing the story and I hope you have a good time reading it.