A/N: I originally intended this to be a one shot, but it got big enough I broke it into two parts. Both parts have been uploaded.
This is written from first person, which I have really been enjoying using lately. Fox is the narrator. I hope you all enjoy, and I may be doing more of these shorter style 'missions' in the future.
STAR FOX: MISSION TO METEO
By FurFur
The call comes in the middle of the night. In my more than a decade of merc work I have had a call like this somewhere between three and six times a month. Everyone thinks their problems can't wait. Most of the time they're wrong.
"Incoming transmission from Cornerian Defense Headquarters."
That's ROB, the Great Fox II's navigator and central AI. He's been with the team since the beginning. I roll out of bed, careful not to disturb the blue vixen slumbering next to me, and pull on a shirt and pants. I slip on my wristcomm and send a text message to ROB telling him I'll take the call on the bridge. One last look at my beautiful bedmate, hard to believe that's what she is now, especially when I think how much more than that she is, I head out of my quarters and take the turbolift directly to the bridge.
We lost the original Great Fox during the final battle of the Aparoid Invasion. Peppy Hare, my godfather, mentor, and oldest friend crashed the dreadnought into a force shield that had been blocking access to the planet core and the Aparoid Queen. If we hadn't been in such a tense combat situation the loss of that ship would have hit me a lot harder. She had been designed by my father, in conjunction with Argus and Celia Phoenix of Space Dynamics. It was his last legacy to me and the team. I'm glad I had been wearing his lucky ascot when the ship went down. If I hadn't I'd have lost everything. I never leave the ship without it now.
The II has been rebuilt with all of the latest tech and systems. From the outside she looks a lot like the sleek, chromium alloy hulled refit that we used during the Aparoid war. On the inside though she's got amenities I'd never dreamed of. Krystal and I soak in the hot tub almost every night. Yeah. We have a hot tub. And a pool. In addition to a fully kitted out gymnasium (with a variety of cut stones in addition to weights, because Krystal thinks dumbbells look silly, it's a Cerinian thing), and VR simulators and a holodeck.
The best thing about all this? I didn't pay a cent for it. I hear the Cornerian Ways and Means committee is still stewing over my insert of a replacement cost clause in my standard contract under 'expenses'. Well, standard for government work. Corneria has more than enough money.
The bridge is empty at this time of night, except for ROB, who rarely ever leaves his post at the Omni board. He controls every aspect of the ship's automated and navigation systems from that panel. The level of information displayed on it is literally incomprehensible to the non robotic among us.
"Put the transmission on the main screen ROB."
"Affirmative."
At the front of the bridge a holographic projector hums to life, and a flat screen image of Peppy Hare appears. "Peppy? What are you doing at CDF Headquarters?"
"Fox." He smiles, the corners of his mustache lifting. "Didn't I tell you? I got a promotion."
"You weren't military." I shake my head. This makes no sense.
"I was. For six months, before your father and I resigned over that incident at Fortuna."
I remember now. My dad always used that story whenever people asked him why he became a merc. He and Peppy defied orders and made a well connected officer look like an idiot. The fact they'd saved an infantry platoon in the process got lost in the shuffle, thought it might have been why they hadn't gotten the book thrown at them. They'd have tolerated that. Instead they were reassigned to a remote outpost, with no hope of combat flying again.
"They reactivated your commission?"
"Yes indeed."
"Damn. And what rank did they give you?"
His grin goes up to full intensity. "Brigadier General in charge of Special Task Forces."
Ah ha. "Fancy way of saying they want you dealing with Star Fox and the rest of the Help."
"Better than having you deal with a bureaucrat," Peppy reminds me.
"Yeah. I suppose. Of course cheating you in my contract is gonna be a lot harder." I wag my tail.
"Not that you won't try."
"I've gotta do something to keep the business side of all this interesting," I tell him. "So, what world ending problem is Corneria faced with today?"
Peppy's smile disappears. "We need to discuss that in person."
"This is a secure channel."
"I know. But my orders are to discuss it in person. We're getting an Intelligence attache here in the afternoon."
"Military?"
"Directorate."
"Ugh." I groan. The Cornerian Intelligence Directorate is somewhere between frighteningly effective and terrifyingly incompetent. I say somewhere in between only because they tend to swing between those two extremes like a pendulum clock. "Alright. We'll set course. We're out near Fichina right now. It'll be...uh, ROB?"
"Six hours, twenty-six minutes, thirteen seconds at maximum sublight."
"What he said."
"That'll get you here in time."
"Is my whole team invited?"
"I made it a point to." Peppy's got that reassuring grandfather look on his face. He knows how much I hate working with the CID. "I'm not sure who they're sending either. Hopefully someone you won't be tempted to strangle."
"Yeah. Sure." I shake my head. "We'll be there soon. And Peppy?"
"Yeah?"
"I told you you'd never last in retirement."
He chuckles. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you did. See you soon. Corneria out."
The transmission closes and I rub my eyes. "ROB. Send me a wakeup call in two hours."
"Affirmative."
"Now. I am going back to bed. Also, we invalidated Falco's override codes for you, right?" I have to make sure. Falco has a nasty tendency of using ROB's override code to get him to stop sending him wakeup calls. It's a gross violation of team policy and common sense, but this is Falco I'm talking about, and neither of those things have ever had any bearing on his behavior.
"Affirmative."
"Good. See you in the morning ROB."
"Sleep well, Captain."
With Krystal next to me? I never sleep any other way.
()()()()
The wakeup call arrives a little more than two hours after I ordered ROB to send it. I don't fault him, he's being nice to me. He tracked my progress back to my room, and only started his clock when he confirmed my head had hit the pillow. In my line of work the head hitting the pillow is followed by immediate sleep. It's a skill. My average time to fall asleep is sixteen seconds. I can get a full REM cycle in an hour.
"Thanks ROB," I say, using the intraship commpanel on the nightstand next to my bed.
I turn over and smile at Krystal, still asleep. She has the blanket pulled right up to her chin, leaving me few options on how to wake her. I go for my tried and true method. I nibble her exposed ear. She has tasty ears. After a few moments of this she stirs and groans, then mutters, "I'm awake."
"Are you though?" I tease. I push the covers down and she growls, turning onto her back and glaring at me through half closed eyelids.
"Bugger."
I lean in close to her ear and whisper, "We did that last night."
That gets her going. Her eyes widen and she smacks me on the arm. "You're the worst."
"Not what you were saying last night." I grin and my tail wags. Her own beats against the mattress.
"I hate you."
"Also not what you said last night." I kiss her cheek.
"Ugh. When did Allie possess you?"
She's talking about the Cerinian sex god. She says I'm a lot like him in the sack. Passionate yet tender. I suppose it's a compliment. We do an insane amount of laundry for our sheets these days. "I don't know. But this is the first you've complained."
"Uh huh." She sits up in bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "Where did you sneak off to last night?"
"The bridge. Peppy called. Did I wake you?"
"Only for a moment. Why was Peppy calling in the middle of the night?"
"He has a job for us."
"He can't afford us."
"The people he works for can."
"He's retired."
"Not anymore."
She stares. "Dammit."
"What?"
"I owe Falco money."
I laugh and give her another kiss on the cheek. "I told you not to take that bet."
"Are you trying to get me in a bad mood this morning?" She arches an eyebrow. It's a very patrician gesture, and one I'm honestly still figuring out. Fara does it too, and her husband, Bonny. I think rich people get some sort of gene modification that adds a muscle into their eyebrows specifically for that motion. And before you ask, Krystal's family was wealthy on Cerinia before, well, yeah. You all know the story. I assume.
"I won't have to." I get out of bed and head for the shower.
"Why is that?" she asks. She pads in after me. We shower together. It saves water.
"Apparently this job is being handed down by Corneria's most renowned intelligence service."
Krystal pauses midway in taking her panties off. "No."
"Afraid so."
"Can we not?"
"If it weren't Peppy asking, I'd say yes." I get the water running after I finish undressing. Krystal gives me a pat on the butt before stepping in ahead of me. I give her butt a firm smack then follow.
"CID is the worst. They always leave something out." Krystal starts lathering soap.
"It's in their nature. They don't trust anyone." She turns so I can do her back. Her fur is thin this time of year, and I admire the delicate arch of her back, leading to a fluffy tail and a firm, athletic rump. She smacks my hands away when I try and give it a rub. "Sore?"
"Sod off." She looks over her shoulder at me, her expression teasing. "Turn around."
"Maybe they'll be encouraged to be more forthcoming this time," I say, humming at the way she digs her claws into my fur. "They have Peppy to deal with now."
"How did that happen anyway?"
"Apparently the military reactivated his commission, then promoted him to brigadier general and put him in charge of Special Task Forces." I stiffen and go up on my tiptoes when she scratches my itchy spot right above my tail. "Hah. Hah. Ahhhh."
"Good boy."
I finish up the rest of my scrubbing and then we rinse and turn the water off. "He's probably got the record for a leap frogging promotion."
"How so?"
"He was a second lieutenant when he resigned."
"Ouch. That must have pissed someone off."
"Probably."
I use the fur drying station first. Krystal, with her thinner, tropically adapted fur might seem on the surface like she would need less time in the hot air, but her tail, which is obscenely fluffy even by vulpine standards, takes almost as long on its own as I do for my whole body.
"If he resigned, how is it his commission is still valid?" she asks, activating her sonic toothbrush.
"If I remember my military regs right, there's a special reserve activation clause for all personnel, no matter status of discharge, for emergency situations."
"What emergency qualified him for that then?"
"My guess, they used it as the loophole it's meant for." My fur is fluffing out. I spend an extra few seconds enjoying the warm air before stepping out. "Of course lack of competent personnel is a perpetual emergency situation at Cornerian Defense Headquarters."
Krystal grunts and starts her own drying cycle as I do my teeth. We work with the military a lot. They're consistent, high paying employers, and generally fit well within my moral compass. That being said sometimes I get the feeling the Cornerian military couldn't tell its ass from its elbow. And I never say it publicly but, yeah, me and the team are the reason we managed to beat both Andross and the Aparoids. That doesn't invalidate the sacrifices made by everyone, but I've yet to see the Cornerian military enter an engagement where they didn't end up needing to call for help. Corneria has never been comfortable being Lylat's policeman, and it tends to show whenever they're called upon to stop something major. It beats Venom or Eladard being in charge though. Keeps me employed too.
When Krystal is done drying we dress in our uniforms and take a moment before heading to the kitchen and dining room. She wraps her arms around me, and we just hug. We don't say anything. I do feel the cool trickle in the back of my skull that tells me she's in my head. It used to freak me out a little, now it makes me happy. I like having someone with whom I share everything. I like not having secrets.
We step back and Krystal smiles. "At least we have work."
"Yeah. There is that." I key my wristcomm and say, "ROB, is featherbrain awake yet?"
"I have sent six wake up calls. I am awaiting a response."
"Oy. Alright." I hold out my hand to Krystal. She takes it with a smile. "We better wake him up."
"You can do that. I'll meet you in the kitchen."
"Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"What do you mean?"
I wag my tail. "Your cooking brought Slippy to tears."
"Oh bugger off." She flips me the bird and leaves the room. I chuckle. That's my girl.
Time to wake up Falco. I've been doing this pretty much my whole life it feels like. He keeps his quarters at the very end of the habitat deck. Not by choice. He wanted something in the middle, I banished him to the outer edges. He plays his music so loud at night it makes it through solid bulkheads. He doesn't even listen to good music. If it were rock and roll I could tolerate it. Krystal wouldn't. I'm still working on converting her into a rocker girl. She tends to prefer harps, lyres, reed pipes, and something called a kithara. Yeah. Music is one thing I'm not sure we'll ever have in common. Though her singing voice is hauntingly beautiful.
I stop at Falco's door and press my thumb to the chime. I hold it there for almost a minute, the tone playing in one continuous loop. There is no response. Great.
"Security override, code THX1138."
The door slides open and I recoil at the smell of body spray and a man who, somehow, never grew out of leaving food containers in his room instead of throwing them out. I hold my breath and step in. The place is an absolute disaster area. There are so many safety regulations I know are being violated in this room. Clear access to the exit being the first one. I have to pick my way passed piles of dirty laundry, two empty frozen pizza boxes, and half a dozen cola cans.
Lying face down on his bed is the subject of interest. The blanket is slipping on the floor, and I really hope he has underwear on as I pull it off. Oh thank the Krazoa he does. "Falco." He shifts but doesn't wake. "Falco!" A semi-conscious grumble. "FALCO!"
"AH WHAT?" He rolls off the bed and smashes his beak against the floor. He yells, hops up, his tail feathers splayed. "What the hell are you doing in here?"
"Waking you up. ROB has called six times."
"No he hasn't."
"Yes. He has."
"No way man."
Oh for the love of all the divine deities in the universe... "Six times Falco. It's a new record."
"No it ain't."
I put my head in my hands and start walking out the door. "Just...just shower and get dressed. We have a job."
"Why didn't anyone tell me?" he calls after me.
"I'm telling you now."
"Shoulda told me earlier. I'm the first mate."
Not this again. "That's not you. That's Krystal."
"Since when?"
I shut the door behind me and lean against the wall. I blow out a long, tired breath. Falco. I couldn't have asked for a best friend like him. Only the universe could come up with such a sick gift to drop in my lap.
Okay. Breakfast. Breakfast always helps. I head for the kitchen, which we keep on the same deck as the living quarters. It makes sense, even when you don't think about how much Slippy midnight snacks. I get there to find Krystal munching on a bowl of cereal, and Slippy devouring a plate of toasted waffles. "I could make the real thing if you want Slip."
Slippy gives me a thumbs up without pausing in his eating. I think the only person in the galaxy who takes eating as seriously as Slippy might be Katt Monroe. I have to double and triple stock just about everything when we get warning of one of her visits. Popcorn especially. Damn if she doesn't love popcorn.
"Are you thinking about Katt again?" Krystal looks up from her cereal.
"Guilty." No point lying.
"Huh." She goes back to her cereal. She looks up again. "Have we heard anything from her lately?"
"I don't know. Not on official channels." I start making waffle batter. I'll make blueberry pancakes for Krystal and I. "But then she rarely does anything through official channels."
"True. It's just she hasn't dropped me a line in about a month, and I know she hasn't talked to Falco in almost as long." Krystal finishes her cereal and joins me in the kitchen, washing the bowl and then setting it in the strainer. "I think that's why he's been oversleeping."
"Yeah. He does tend to get depressed when he doesn't hear from her." I sigh. "I'll put some feelers out, see if I can track her down."
"Good idea. You know if she's in trouble she'll never ask for help."
"Yeah. She's a lot like Falco." I shake my head. "It's a wonder they can stand each other."
"There's something to be said for the long distance nature of their relationship." Krystal leans her butt against the counter and folds her arms. "I could never do it."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Why is that?"
She gets a mischievous look. "I'd miss going over docking procedures with you every night."
I blush, but my tail wags. "Ah. So true."
She tickles my chin and then goes to sit down. I serve both her and Slippy, then retreat back into the kitchen to make my own breakfast and get some coffee. We're all seated by the time Falco arrives.
"Where's mine?"
I'm about to take a bite of my pancakes, then I put the fork down and say, "I'll make you some."
Krystal arches an eyebrow. Usually I'm all about making a point that if you miss the McCloud breakfast hour you miss it, but if he's been depressed about Katt this is the least I can do for him.
"Super dark," he tells me.
I grimace. The way he eats his pancakes is antithetical to every lesson my mother and father taught me about the proper preparation of breakfast food. I am, however, trying to do something nice, so I answer in the affirmative and prepare to burn some otherwise perfectly tasty pancakes into cinder circles.
It takes a few extra minutes, and a few held back tears, but I serve Falco his burntcakes and then sit down to my own cooler, golden brown ones. "We have a job Slippy."
Slippy, who has finished his food and is now sitting and rubbing his stomach in satisfaction, glances over and says, "What's the deal?"
"Don't know yet. We're on course for Corneria. We're gonna meet Peppy for the briefing."
"Peppy?" Falco grins. "You owe me money, Blue."
Krystal frowns and digs into her pockets for spare cash. She hands him five credits and...a dime. Falco appears skeptical. Krystal's foot connects with my shin under the table. "Ow! What?" She nods towards Falco. "Oh. Right." I dig into my own pockets and manage to come up with some cash of my own. "How much?"
"She bet me twenty."
Great. So all of my cash. "Take it."
Falco proceeds to count it just to insult me, then pulls out his wallet. "How much money is in there?" I've never seen that much cash.
"Uh, two hundred somethin'."
"Where did you..." Slippy is looking greener than usual. "Oh. Really Slippy?"
"It seemed like such a sure thing."
"I guess we really do need this job," I mutter.
()()()()
Corneria City. I grew up here. The suburbs to be exact. I try to get back whenever I can. It's an amazing place. Easily the single best place to live and grow up in Lylat, and I'd say it's up there even when you go to a galactic scale.
We fly over in our Arwings, screaming through the cloud cover and just knowing that down there, people are looking up and seeing our fighters, each one custom built, and smiling. There's nothing arrogant about acknowledging that. We're heroes in these parts. Plus, our victory over the Aparoids, and turn tabling over Oikonny from before that, haven't lost their sheen of newness yet.
"I wanna get back here." That's Falco. I love this place, but I'm not sure anyone feels about it the way Falco and Katt do. They used to tear this city up every night. I've heard rumors that Katt has controlling stakes in half a dozen of the most popular nightclubs. One of these days I'll lean on her to get us in as VIPs.
"I know what you mean." We're heading out over the ocean, and I switch my secondary visual sensor to a rear view so I can watch the skyscrapers and beach receding. The Cornerian military keeps its headquarters on an artificial island about ten miles off the coast. It's where the Aparoids launched their attack, and where we just managed to push them back.
"It's a shame the hotels are so expensive," Krystal says.
"I've never seen a good one for less than three hundred credits a night," I mutter. "It's insane. And the luxury ones? This job might pay enough for a night."
"You guys stay in all the wrong places," Falco says. "You gotta get into this city. The places they don't put on the brochures. That's where the real fun is."
"I've been there with you Falco," Slippy says. "It isn't that fun."
"You mean it ain't all about playing Ninti games and eating snack food."
Slippy says something nasty. Nasty for Slippy. Falco does not acknowledge the distinction and I mute the two of them as they lay into each other for the rest of the flight. Krystal's image appears on my comm screen and we share a smile. Falco is a year older than me, and three years older than her, but sometimes it feels like babysitting a bunch of teenagers when it comes to Falco and Slippy.
"We better make a point to stop in and see Fara while we're here," Krystal says.
"Good idea. She gets pissy if we don't." I smile. Fara Phoenix. She's stuck in her corporate offices right now, going insane dealing with all the muck that her parents gleefully foist on her. Last time we met up with her we ended up pulling her out of a meeting with the Space Dynamics-Phoenix Enterprises bagel vendor. I hear she gave them her dad's personal cell phone number, just to get back at him for making her take the meeting.
Ahead of us the Cornerian Defense Headquarters island grows in size. The place has been completely rebuilt and repaired since the Aparoids rolled through. I remember fighting on the ground. There hadn't been much left. Even the cafes, one of which apparently was Panther Caroso's favorite...
"Please, don't remind me of him."
"Sorry. What I really want to know is how he ever managed to visit a cafe in this place."
"There are a lot of civilians here," Krystal says. "Aren't some areas even open to the public?"
"Yeah. That's true."
"A more important question to be asking yourself would be what he was doing here, rather than why he was in the cafe."
"Questions I don't want to know the answer to." Panther Caroso would be an endearing kind of character if he weren't so pushy. And pretentious. And smug. And working for Wolf. And after my girl. That last one especially.
"Never be a thing."
"Good to know." I smile ruefully. "People ship you two on the internet."
"Ech."
"I'll send you some links."
"Please don't."
"Already done."
"I hate you."
"Aw, thanks babe."
"Star Fox, this CDF Air Control, you are cleared for approach and landing on Strip 343."
"Copy that Control," I say, switching channels. "Have a nice day."
I unmute Falco and Slippy long enough to make sure they're not being dumb and flying off to shoot at each other, a contest that Slippy might have a chance in considering how pissed he sounds, and then remute them, determined to enjoy the relative silence for as long as we're in the air.
We come in for a landing, smooth as butter. It took us awhile when Krystal first joined, and Falco came back into the fold to get everyone flying right. Krystal had a lot of informal and self taught training, and Falco had developed a lot of bad habits being on his own, but now that we've all adapted to each other's individual styles and ticks, I think there isn't a better, or less orthodox flying group around.
I doff my flight helmet and pop the canopy. Fresh, salty sea air fills my nose. That's a good smell. No ocean smells the way Corneria's does. No ocean out there is cleaner or better taken care of. Well, maybe Aquas. But there aren't four billion people living on Aquas, so it's less of an achievement. Zoness has some nice oceans too, though the cleanup from Andross's occupation is still ongoing. What am I saying? Corneria has the best because I grew up here, and this is the ocean I used to swim in every summer break. Krystal catches my gaze as she hops down from the CloudRunner and an image of her coming out of the water in a bikini fills my mind, along with the cool trickle and saucy smile that tells me she's planting it there for me.
I hop down and immediately have to march over to Falco and Slippy, who are still yelling at each other. They seem to have shifted topics to...to...to I don't care. "Ay! Shut it! Both of you."
Slippy clams up immediately. Falco looks surly. I hear Krystal behind me, and then he makes like a clam too. Dammit she's a great first mate. She is the only person I've ever met who can exercise a level of control over Falco comparable to a certain pink feline. "I'd like to remind both of you," I say, keeping my gaze on Falco because he's the one I'm really talking to, "That we are here on official business. Try not to make Star Fox look like a bunch of asses, okay?"
"You got it Fox." Slippy gives me a thumbs up, and I have one hundred and ten percent confidence that he will be on his best behavior, no matter what Falco might try. Falco just nods, which indicates to me there is a not insignificant probability that he brought a can of spray paint and intends to tag something when I'm not looking. He was a juvenile delinquent when I met him, and he'll be a juvenile delinquent when we both breathe our last. Oddly enough, that consistency is my favorite thing about him.
"Excuse me sirs."
I turn around to find a robot standing awkwardly nearby. Well, awkward for a robot. I walk over. "We're here to see General Hare."
"I was sent to collect you. I am ZZ-78."
"Good to meet you ZZ-78." Always call a robot by their full name if you aren't their owner. They tend to be a little confused by nicknames. It took ROB a solid year to respond to just 'ROB' instead of ROB 64.
"Please, come this way." There's a speeder waiting for us. A hover model. Very nice.
"They usually send a biological for us," Krystal says.
"CID, remember?"
Falco groans. "We're working with the spooks?"
"So Peppy implied."
"What does that have to do with sending a robot instead of a person?" Slippy asks.
"ZZ-78?"
The robot swivels his head as we get into the speeder, then responds to my question with, "Upon delivery of you to the meeting place my memory of our interactions will be immediately and permanently redacted. This mission has been rated as 'Need to Know.' I do not need to know."
"That," Falco said, "Is just plain creepy."
"That, my friend," I say, "Is the CID."
"Creeps in Disguise," Falco suggests.
I can't help but chuckle. That's surprisingly on point for him in terms of whit. It actually matches the acronym.
As we drive down the road towards the central headquarters structure I take a look around. There are other vehicles traversing the roads, and driving between them, and across them. Military traffic is...different. There are even maglev and raised roads leading between the upper levels of the structures. Buildings climb up into the sky, each of them marked for a different branch of the military, some of them for simple functions. There are more bureaucrats in the military than just about any other part of the Cornerian government. Not a unique situation, militaries have always been bureaucracies, dominated as much by the accountants, the pencil pushers, and the protocol police as they are by common sense, security considerations, and strategic imperatives.
"Man, I am glad we do not work for these guys," Falco caws as a group of dress uniformed officers stalks by. They're following a guy in a suit, but his ramrod straight posture tells me he's military, and the stillness of his tail tells me he's intelligence. No other profession allows canids that level of control over the fifth appendage.
"We're about to take a job with them Falco," Krystal points out.
"Totally different," he argues. "We work with them, not for them. We don't like the job, all we gotta do is walk out."
I don't bother to contradict him. If I don't like the sound of this job I will walk out. Two things, though, mean I'll be willing to tolerate more bullshit than I otherwise would. First and foremost the mission is coming from Peppy, who, along with General Pepper, Fleet Admiral Nadira Hatch, and Captain Boniface Whitefur, is now included in the very small handful of military officers I'm willing to trust completely. Second is the fact that we're apparently being briefed by the Cornerian Intelligence Directorate. I'm fairly certain they don't do a damned thing that isn't under three layers of classification, and walking out on a job is going to require me to sign so many additional non-disclosure agreements I might lose my mind. They are also not above making life irritatingly difficult for merc operations that slight them.
Krystal glances at me and I can tell she's thinking the same thing. I smile at her, trying to be reassuring. This is Peppy, he would have vetted the op before involving us. He knows my limits, and more importantly he has limits of his own. A fair amount of ethical oversight of classified operations has to be done behind the scenes, and having Peppy around gives me confidence that mercs under his purview aren't going to be used as disposable help for Corneria's dirty laundry.
The hovercar stops outside of the main building. From the outside it hardly looks intimidating. Squat, round, and dwarfed by everything around it, you could be forgiven for thinking the thing was the island's fusion generator rather than the nerve center for Cornerian military operations throughout the Lylat System.
"You have been cleared for entry," ZZ-78 tells us. "Have a pleasant time."
I smile and pat him on the robot shoulder, then lead my team into the belly of the beast. All of us are watching out of the corner's of our eyes, spotting the thousand and one defensive systems that are observing, scanning, and targeting us as we make the short walk to an already opened elevator. We step in, and I see Slippy repress a shudder as we start heading down. I can only imagine how fast they'd let this thing drop into freefall if we were deemed a security threat.
"Oh, they wouldn't do that," Krystal says.
"You think?"
"Do you have any idea how long it would take to requisition a new elevator?" she says.
That brings a smile to my face. "Damn. You're probably right. What do you think then?"
"Electric charge," Krystal says. "Zap us with a few thousand volts."
"Nah," Falco shakes his head. "That'd fry all the systems in here."
"Unless they're shielded," I point out.
Slippy clears his throat. "Two things. One, this is really morbid and can we please stop? And two, did you guys not notice the small, black dome right above you?"
I look up and swear. "Simplest solution." That thing looks like a camera, but it is definitely a weapon system. They'll fill the place with anti-personnel laser bolts, powerful enough to shred us, weak enough to bounce right off the walls, and repaint when it's over.
"Probably the cheapest too," Krystal says.
"Which almost makes me wonder why they went with it," Falco says.
Truth.
The doors open. Corneria's real military headquarters is beneath the island. In times of crisis, like during the Aparoid attack, the submerged section of the island will detach, and then sink straight down to bedrock. Protected under five thousand feet of water, there's little to nothing that it won't be able to withstand. It didn't help Pepper, but it did save the President and the rest of the Command Council, which meant we were back on our feet and counter attacking almost immediately.
Outside the elevator is a corridor, and the walls have flashing lights that seem to be encouraging us to head for the door at the end. "They really can't help it, can they?" I mutter.
"I almost wonder if they saw it in a movie once," Krystal says.
"Think the movies got it from them, Blue," Falco replies.
"How would a movie producer find out about this?"
"Point," I say.
We stop at the door, and a synthesized voice tells us to submit to a retina scan. We all do, despite the fact that it is absurdly unnecessary. They were watching us from the moment we stepped onto the base, if we weren't who we said we were, we wouldn't have gotten off the landing strip.
The door opens, whirring as it cycles a variety of electronic and mechanical locks. When it finally opens I am relieved to find a well lit room with the customary silver and chrome finishes that have been in vogue on Corneria since I was born. A large table sits in the middle of the room, with Peppy at its head, and two others. My eyebrows shoot up to see Fara sitting to his left, and when my eyes land on the person to Peppy's right I really can't believe it. "Lucy?"
"Fox!" She springs up from the chair and hops around the table to hug me. "It's been too long."
"If I'd known you were going to join the CID I woulda visited sooner," I tell her, returning the hug. I feel better about this whole situation now. "Maybe I could have talked you out of it."
"We aren't all bad." She pulls back and then rubs her nose against me. I blush and look helplessly at Krystal. Krystal is trying not to smile. She knows Lucy was a big sister to me for awhile. Between losing my dad, and the Lylat Wars starting before I was old enough to fly, I'm not sure I would have made it through high school without her to lean on. "I apologize for the drama. You wouldn't believe it, but it's actually standard operating procedure."
"You're kidding." She shakes her head. "What do you guys do all day?"
She laughs, and from any other CID operative I would find that more than a little unsettling. "Mostly stare at screens and analyze data. We've cut back our field operations a lot. Military intelligence has been handling the dirty work lately. I tend to work with them a lot these days."
Peppy clears his throat. Lucy gives me one more hug and then returns to her father. "Peppy, in the red and gold trim." I smile and take a seat across from him. The team follows my lead and seats themselves. "Never thought I'd see the day. Dad would have a stroke."
"I about did myself." He holds up a hand when I get worried. "Not literally. It's a good thing I'm this deep in the sublevels. A lot of officers are giving me the evil eye."
"Can't imagine why," Falco mumbles.
I turn to look at Fara. "And what are you doing this deep underwater?"
Fara grimaces. "My job, unfortunately. Which, as you know, involves covering my parent's asses."
"Ew," Falco says.
I look between them. "What did Space Dynamics lose?"
"Phoenix Enterprises," Fara corrects.
"Better or worse?"
"In this case worse."
"Lovely."
"What does the CID have to do with this?" Krystal asks.
"That was my next question."
"I know." Krystal shoots me a smile. I smile back.
Lucy makes a face this time. "I'm afraid we're the reason it's lost."
"Ah ha." So, CID is going through one of its impossibly incompetent phases. Good to know.
Lucy taps a few controls on the desk, and a hologram of a hodgepodge of lashed together asteroids with dome cities on them appears in the air. "BR-558," I say.
"I'm surprised you recognize it," Lucy says. "It's about as backwater as you can get these days in Lylat."
"My dad's first mission took him there," I say. "I make it a point to know about all the places he went." I see Peppy look a bit melancholy for a moment. He went there with my dad too. "So, what were you doing there?"
"Weapons research." Lucy taps another control. A large bomb replaces BR-558.
Slippy scrutinizes it, then says, "What are the specs?"
"Classified," Lucy says.
"No." I shake my head. "If you want my team to retrieve a bomb, I want everything there is to know about it. I want everyone to be able to diffuse it. Even Falco."
"Thanks man."
"No problem."
"Okay." Lucy flicks her wrist and my wristcomm buzzes. I glance down and see all the information on something called an Arc bomb uploading to the team's internal network. I glance up, at a loss for words. Lucy smiles. "I told my boss you'd say that. I have enough pull to get you mission specific clearance. I think we're turning over a new leaf."
"Not what the lights in the hall led me to suspect." I put my hands on the desk and lace my fingers together. "What's the deal with this thing?"
Fara explains, "A few months prior to the Aparoid attack Phoenix Enterprises' weapon research division was contracted to create a new kind of electromagnetic pulse weapon. As you know, shielding has gotten better and better, to the point where just about anything short of a full blown nuclear attack can feasibly be defended against."
"Nukes?" I shake my head. "I thought we phased them out a hundred years ago." Fara and Slippy chuckle. "Guys, that's disturbing."
Slippy clams up, then Fara says, "I could have made a nuke in fifth grade Fox. Slippy probably could have made one during nap time in kindergarten. There's no putting that Krazoa back in its shrine."
"Okay. Fair enough. So, this thing is a super EMP device."
"Essentially." Fara nods. "We have one prototype, and it's only an inkling of what the final design could potentially be. That bomb there, however, is capable of shutting down every electronic system within an area a little larger than BR-558."
"How bad would that be?" Falco asks. "I mean, it ain't exploding."
"BR-558 is an artificial habitat," I tell him.
"So?"
Krystal rolls her eyes. "So everything is electronic. The tractor fields holding it together, probably a significant amount of the gravity, not to mention the oxygen generation for the dome cities. Take it out, and people will asphyxiate."
"Ass what?"
Krystal cradles her head in her hands. "Why is he so dumb?"
"They'll suffocate," I translate for him.
"What? Those domes are huge, how much air do they need?"
Slippy takes this one. "How old is 558?"
"Over a hundred years," Lucy says. "And no, they haven't kept pace technologically. They're a non-jurisdictional corporate zone."
I glance at Fara. She shrugs. "Not everyone has the money or the inclination for keeping pace with technology. I've gone over the public specifications for their system. If this bomb went off they'd drift apart in a few days, and probably hit something while their orbit is unstable. Not that it'd matter, with their air circulation system down everyone there would be dead in two hours, maybe three."
A growl escapes my throat. "Emergency systems?"
"Irrelevant," Fara says. "The Arc bomb would fry them too. And they're so out of date they'd never be able to sustain the colony."
"How does a company get away with that?" Krystal wonders.
"Non-jurisdictional corporate zone," Fara repeats. "Government can't regulate them. All the Meteo colonies are like that. Sargasso was like that, until Wolf and his gang took over."
"Yeah, well, Wolf's got his hands full these days," I say, trying not to grin. His brief streak of helping out during the Aparoid war cost him a lot in the underworld. He's been fending off rival pirates and gangs for months now, and there's no sign it stopping. "So, who has the Arc bomb, and what are they doing with it?"
Lucy changes the hologram again. She points to the beagle that appears and says, "This is Agent Tamarind. He was assigned to oversee the project in regards to security and outreach to Crespo Mining, the owner corporation, where needed. That is until he went rogue. He killed two of the engineers, but the third got away, subsequently informing us that he plans to sell the bomb to the highest bidder."
"How much is it going for?" Falco asks.
"More money than you'll ever have Falco," Fara replies.
"I'm asking for a friend."
"I don't think bombs are her deal, Falco," I tell him.
"Ya never know."
Peppy takes over. "I think at this point you can figure out what we need from you."
"Yeah." I nod. "Do we have a handler for this?"
Peppy shakes his head. "Tamarind is well connected in the CID. And the number of field agents being a lot smaller these days, we're concerned he would recognize anyone we send with you."
Falco caws. "Cuz he won't recognize us."
"So what if he does? We're just a buncha mercs." I grin. "In all seriousness though, I sense subtlety is not what you're going for."
Lucy shakes her head. "CID would like him...liquidated."
My grin fades. "We capture wherever possible. I'll keep that in mind if he shoots at me though."
Lucy holds up her hands. "We'll be happy to capture him. We just want you to know you don't need to go to special trouble. We just want him dealt with."
"And the bomb?"
"I'll have a ship standing by to retrieve it," Fara says. "You know my priority comm frequency. We'll be a call and a short jump away."
I nod. "Okay. Is there anything else?"
Peppy shakes his head. "Nothing other than good luck."
"Thanks." I stand up. "Alright Star Fox, let's rock and roll."
()()()()
When we're back on the surface I jog over to Fara. "Hey."
"What's up?" she asks. She's walking to her own shuttle. I don't recognize the model. Probably a prototype.
"If I'm going to be taking my team to BR-558, I don't think the II is what we should be flying in."
She nods. "Probably not."
"Help me out?"
"Yeah." She takes my wrist and plugs in some coordinates. "Space Dynamics keeps a mothyard here." She taps the screen. "I'll call ahead and tell my parents I'll be delayed. You and the team can follow me up."
"Epic." I smile.
"You and Krystal doing good?" Fara asks, pausing at the hatch to her shuttle.
"Better than ever."
"I thought so. You seem more relaxed these days," Fara says. "Benefits of boning regularly, right?"
I blush. "Uh."
Fara cackles. "See you up there McCloud."
I roll my eyes and rejoin the team. "Fara's gonna get us a new ride," I tell them. "Something that'll blend in better than a dreadnought."
"Smart thinking," Krystal says.
We mount up, run through our preflights, and then take off. Fara takes formation with us, and I give her the lead, patching her into teamcomm. "If this is a mothyard," I say, "How long will it take to get the ship up and running?"
Fara's image appears on my HUD. "Strictly speaking it should take upwards of a week. Ships in a mothyard typically have all their major systems ripped out, and valuable components are sold as scrap, spare parts, or recycled."
"I don't think we have a week here, Fara."
She smiles. "That's why I'm taking you to this mothyard. We keep a couple of fully functional ships disguised as hulks here. Shouldn't take more than a couple of hours to have something suitable up and running for you."
"Is there a reason you do that?" Falco asks.
"There are a lot of reasons," Fara replies. "Suffice it to say, emergencies like this are one of them."
"Uh huh." I feel Krystal nudge my brain. I smile. "Krystal says this all sounds like a tax dodge."
Fara chuckles. "Why Fox, you know very well that Space Dynamics-Phoenix Enterprises pays all of its taxes, in full."
"Really?"
"Really." Fara sighs. "Cornerian tax law is, like, completely dodge proof. It's rather annoying at times."
"Huh." I smile. "Score one for the people, I guess."
We leave the atmosphere and Fara veers off the public lane into a private one. "Short jump here," Fara says.
"Spin up the drives everyone." I tap a series of controls and enter a short access code. Our Arwings come outfitted with interplanetary jump drives, allowing us to utilize short bursts of warp speed to travel between planets. It won't get us to another solar system, but it cuts down on travel time and means we aren't totally reliant on a mothership.
"Feeding you coordinates and jump calculations now," Fara says.
Jump equations begin scrolling across my screens. I transmit them to ROB with instructions to hold in orbit of Corneria for the time being. "We'll follow you."
"Copy."
Fara does a three second countdown and then her shuttle snaps forward and out of sight. All four of us follow, maintaining our formation. Seventeen seconds later we drop out on the far side of Corneria's moon. I'm impressed by what I find. Surrounded by signal satellites, each one blinking and sending out navigational hazard warnings, is the biggest collection of space junk I've ever seen outside of Sector X. "The only thing it's missing is a quasi-sentient robot guarding the place," I mutter.
"Don't even say that," Slippy groans.
Falco snickers. "Yeah. That thing bitch slapped you all the way to Titania."
"Shut up Falco!"
"Myeh!"
"That's enough boys," Krystal warns. The comms go silent.
"There's a dockyard station here," Fara says. "Automated. Follow me."
A few minutes at sublight brings us to a small station with a hangar bay big enough for all of us to land. The place is clean, bright, and well maintained. Most scrapyard stations are none of those, and the good ones are one, maybe two. This, however, is classic Space Dynamics architecture, and has all the hallmarks of an efficient operation overseen by an efficient, though artificial staff.
On the hangar floor I walk over to Fara. "So, where's the greeting party?"
"Should be along in a minute." Fara looks towards a set of doors. They open and a robot hovers out. He's about four feet tall, but hangs two feet above the floor. Boxy and mechanical looking. Anthroform robots, or androids, were outlawed almost as quickly as they were invented. There are a lot of reasons for it, but chief among them were security concerns, as well the general feeling of being uncomfortable with a robot that looks like you, sounds like you, but doesn't have the same rights as you. Maybe we'll get over it one day, but I kind of doubt it.
"Mrs. Phoenix-Whitefur." The robot comes to a stop and salutes her.
"He salutes you?" Falco asks.
"Bonny insisted. His idea of being funny." Fara rolls her eyes.
"Yeah, that sounds like his idea of humor," I say.
"This is Harris-641. He's in charge of the mothyard here." Fara motions to the robot. "Harris, we're gonna need to bring item 601-b out of retirement. Can you have it heated up and ready inside of three hours?"
Harris-641 doesn't miss a beat. "Easily done ma'am. Who will be signing for it?"
"That would be me." Fara glances at me. "Care to co-sign?"
"If you think it's necessary."
"Well, if it does get blown up I won't be the only one with a paper trail to blame it on." Fara wags her tail. "You'll sign."
"Fair enough."
"Do please try and bring it back in one piece," Harris-641 says. "I'd rather not have to deal with the requisite queries and internal corporate investigations."
"Harris likes it here," Fara says, taking the slate that Harris hands her and signing her name with the touch stencil. "He prefers low information streams." She glances at him. "Very odd for his make and model, but then Genuine People Personalities can be finicky."
"I take that as a complement." Harris snatches the slate away and hands it to me. I sign. "Thank you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go bring Mr. and Mrs. Helper out of standby."
"Thank you Harris," Fara calls after him.
"Quite welcome, ma'am."
"Mr. and Mrs. Helper?" Krystal shakes her head. "I thought they were domestic robots."
"They are." Fara smiles. "We reprogrammed these two for ship maintenance. They're very cranky about it. Come on, there's a lounge where we can wait."
We follow Fara. "Who did the reprogramming?" Slippy asks.
Fara taps in a code and a door opens leading to small but plushly appointed lounge. Fara takes a seat and says, "Only the best in the business."
"Ah ha." I smile at Falco. He shows no reaction. On purpose. Everyone knows there's only one programmer in Lylat with legitimate claim to that title. "Is there a reason you chose to reprogram rather than just get proper maintenance robots?"
Fara shrugs. "Not really. We do try and keep these mothyards on the down low though. Space Dynamics creates a lot of proprietary tech. Stuff scavengers will go to a lot of trouble to get their hands on. Anything we can do to keep the profile of a place like this low we're usually willing to do."
"Are scavengers that much of a problem?" Krystal asks.
"More than they used to be." Fara gets up for a moment to pour herself a drink. She doesn't offer for anyone else, which is okay. Fara's just like that. "All the underworld stuff has become a hassle. Speaking of, how bad is all that stuff you mentioned about Wolf, really?"
I smile. "Pretty bad. Being a do gooder hasn't endeared him to all his old allies. A lot of them ended up getting wrecked when Wolf volunteered his fleet to help fight the Aparoids. Last I heard he'd even been forced out of Sargasso."
"Sucks for him." Fara smiles back. "Has he come crawling to you for help?"
"No." I shake my head. "He'll find a way to survive. He always does."
"I'd be on the lookout," Fara cautions.
"Why is that?"
"Think about it," Fara replies. "The Arc bomb is exactly the kind of game changing weapon he would be interested in. He could set it off on Sargasso, let the life support system fail, and then take the station back fully intact."
"Wouldn't it fry the systems?" Falco says. "Thought that was kind of the whole point."
"It'll fry them temporarily," Fara says. "The problem for BR-558 is that the amount of time it would take to get them back online is more time than they have oxygen. If Wolf isn't interested in taking prisoners, which given the scum he's dealing with isn't unlikely, this is a great weapon for him. We designed it to let us take places intact. Pirates need that even more than governments do."
"Yeah. I suppose you're right. We'll be on the lookout." I lean back in my seat and share a glance at Krystal. She looks sympathetic. The last thing we need is Star Wolf raiding this party.
"This brings up a question," Fara says.
"What's that?"
"You've had him in your sights so many times over the years," Fara continues. "Why haven't you finished him?"
I frown. I've been asked this before, but not by Fara. "In the Lylat War when he worked for Andross, it was just his good luck that kept him alive. Now? I don't know. He's not worth my time."
"Really?"
I lean back and blow out a sigh. "Everyone thinks we're huge rivals. Truth is our paths cross pretty rarely. Between the assault on Venom and Sargasso, I didn't encounter him more than once or twice. It's a big system, and we don't look for each other. Hell, I didn't even know Pigma had gotten his ass kicked off of Star Wolf until Wolf told me. He likes to think he'll take me down one day, but he means it in the sense of beating me, not killing me. He shoots to disable whenever we clash these days. It's all a big stupid pissing match. That said, if he doesn't want to kill me, I won't kill him. I'm happy to leave well enough alone. All my vendettas ended in orbit above Sauria."
Fara nods. "That's a healthy way to live."
Falco snorts. "Yeah. That's Fox. Healthy boy."
I glance at him, eyes narrowed. "Not all of us think the pinnacle of good eating is delivery pizza."
"Yeah, well, not all of us are smart." Falco crosses his arms and looks proud.
"You're living proof," Slippy says.
"Thank you." Falco preens. "You finally see it."
"You're welcome." Slippy grins big and set his hands on his stomach.
Krystal and I share an amused glance. At last the children are insulting each other and getting along. "Do you know anything but this rogue agent?" I ask.
"Not really." Fara shakes her head. "According to Lucy this caught the directorate by surprise. Corneria doesn't have a huge turncoat problem."
"A man on Titania might argue with that," Falco grumbles.
"Please don't remind me," I moan. I got a literal Andross dropped on top of me during that whole fiasco.
"I doubt there's a conspiracy or anything here," Fara says. "Some dick probably wouldn't give him a pay raise. That, and things are generally chaos right now. If you wanted to go rogue, this is the time to do it, while Corneria is still licking its wounds."
"True enough. It was the same after the Lylat War."
We talk for the next few hours, mostly about nothing. Fara tells us that she and her husband, Boniface Whitefur, are planning to take a vacation on Zoness in the next couple months when he's on leave. Krystal makes a dirty joke about it, and Fara has to be stopped from going into gritty detail about what she plans to do to him during her vacation. We also talk about tech, ship designs, the usual things that happen when Slippy is in the room and Fara wants to talk. I'm never sure which of them is the bigger genius.
Just over three hours later we get the call that the ship has docked and is ready to board. We head out, taking the lift up a level, which is when we get our first look at our ship. "Wow," Falco says. "That is a piece of junk."
I grin. The thing is basically a rectangle, with a single control tower at the end. Plenty of hangar space for the Arwings, and a total lack of anything stylish enough to be associated with the Star Fox team. "Perfect."
The doors to the umbilical open and a pair of spherical, three armed robots float out. "All done ma'am," the first one says. "We left the scuffs and peeling paint in place though. All that 'gritty' 'realistic' touch that everyone seems to be so interested in these days. Honestly, in a world with robots like us the very idea that anything isn't clean and orderly is simply absurd. But you know the movie makers and the dedicated fanbases..." The whole time he rants he keeps floating away, until finally the door shuts behind him and his partner.
Harris comes out and says, "You see what I have to deal with?"
"Truly yours is an exile worse than Circe's." Fara grins.
"Who?" I look over at her.
"Nevermind."
"Well, we better get aboard and head out," I say. I give Fara a hug. She squeezes. "Thanks. And we'll get your bomb back for you."
"In one piece please. It's expensive."
"We'll do our best."
"Right. I'll have your Arwings transferred over, along with equipment and supplies. There's a shuttle onboard too, in case you need it."
"Thanks." I wag my tail. "Alright Star Fox. Let's rock and roll."