The holoprojector Fox kept in his home began whirring and beeped to life. Fox quickly stirred and sat up in his bed clothes after maybe three hours of sleep. Dawn was at least four hours away. He didn't have time to fix himself up, but he was used to it anyway. This happened several times in the Cornerian military as a training exercise, and besides, he wasn't going to turn down any kind of offer for cash just so that he could look presentable.
"Mm. Answer," Fox mumbled at the holoprojector. Within two seconds, Peppy Hare's face appeared a foot or so above the holoprojector, looking directly at Fox using the facial recognition camera mounted on the projector.
"Good morning!" Peppy said sarcastically.
"This had better be good," Fox grumbled back. He yawned.
"It is. I've cleared a request for a shuttle launch today."
Fox's eyes suddenly focused. It sounded like a mission. Which sounded like money. "Keep going."
"The Sargasso Space Station is sending out a distress signal."
Fox's expression went quickly from interested to disgust. "And why am I supposed to help keep that tin can afloat? You know that's Wolf's area."
"Yes, I know. He's the one who sent the distress beacon."
"Great. Sounds like a trap to me."
"Well, we need you to investigate anyway. The station isn't in view of any of our telescopes. Nobody is sure why, and we can't get anyone besides you, Falco and Slippy to mobilize fast enough."
"Wait, back up," Fox said. "We can't see the station? At all? But we can receive radio transmissions. Something doesn't add up."
Peppy sighed, thinking about what he was about to say. "Well, we can get transmissions from there, but it seems to be coming from about six different locations in the Lylat System. We're not sure what to make of it. Everything is coming in garbled, so the Cornerian defense system can only make out certain parts of the signal."
"But there's only one Sargasso," Fox pointed out.
"Yep, that's why something is suspicious."
"What did the signal tell you?"
"Actually, we didn't receive those radio transmissions. The outpost on Katina was the first to receive them. They contacted us about it. Aquas was next. Both of them reported strong bursts at a frequency reserved for emergencies. They're saying the signal is a long string of numbers that nobody can translate for now," Peppy said.
"But they've got telescopes, right? They can see the station. They can figure out what's going on."
"Yes, they can, but they don't have enough of a presence at either station to mobilize a task force. And even if they did, they'd probably balk at going to Sargasso anyway. Which brings me back to you."
Fox grumbled with a sigh. "All right. We'll investigate. I'll leave it up to you to get in contact with Slippy and Falco."
"Will do. The shuttle departs in three hours. Peppy out."
The holoprojector gave the same shrill beep as Fox's bedroom went dark again. Fox toyed with the idea of getting a few more hours of sleep, but then decided against it. Even though it was unfortunate timing, he knew he had to go through a ridiculous checklist before the Cornerian military would let him onto the shuttle. Three hours to board was a little too uncertain for him. Fox hadn't failed on a mission once in his career, and this wasn't going to be the first all because of a missed flight.
Fox stood and stretched with a yawn. And went through his morning routine. As he got himself ready, he became more excited. He knew he'd be where he belonged soon. He was looking forward to the feeling of an adrenaline spike during an intense dogfight. He was looking forward to helping stamp out yet another threat to the Lylat System. But most importantly, he was looking forward to a chunk of change, most of which would go straight toward the loan his father took out all those years ago. But everything started here, in his home. He began by packing a small bag with a clean jumpsuit and a few bathroom essentials.
He sighed as he thought about how easy it would have been to take a quick jaunt over to Sargasso if he were patrolling the Lylat System in space. But that was before Peppy scuttled the Great Fox to help end the Aparoid threat. When the Great Fox actually had protective shielding.
The Great Fox, Mark II, was about ten figurative steps below the original. And to make matters worse, Space Dynamics still had the loan on it active. They were kind enough to modify the former freighter pro bono. Several improvements were made, but the Star Fox team had to make decisions at several junctures. One of them was whether to include a warp drive or protective shielding. The decision was simple in the long-term: warp drive. You get to your destination faster. But the added weight from completely protective shielding would have caused the new Great Fox to disintegrate once it reached a certain speed. The inertia of the ship was way too much to handle during massive accelerations. Luckily, though, at least some kind of radiation shielding was installed to help longevity in space.
The Star Fox team had to make so many sacrifices that Slippy jokingly referred to their flagship as the Great Fox*, with an asterisk. To remind everyone of what this new Great Fox was not.
Fox grabbed his keys, radio collar, ID card and holoprojector. He knew the Great Fox had one, but if it were somehow damaged, then what? Redundancy was paramount in this case.
Near the front door, Fox pushed a button on a wall console and said, "Taxi." And waited. Just like any other home in Corneria City, it was built with one of these communicators. Several services were linked to it, including transportation.
After a moment, a reply came back. "Taxi service confirmed for 83 Greywall Drive. We'll be there in approximately fifteen minutes."
Fox didn't say anything back. He was still half-asleep. He ambled back into his bedroom and straightened his bed, as well as a few personal belongings that were too valuable for him to lose. Such as a small framed picture of him with his father, James.
He looked around the bedroom and saw there was nothing else of interest to him at the moment. He slowly made his way back into the main living area of his house and sat down on the sofa. And waited.
Fox was nearly back to sleep when a sharp knock echoed through the house. It was coming from his front door. He jerked awake, stood and shuffled toward the door. Opened it to find the taxi driver standing on the other side of the door, dressed in a crisp black suit. The driver was a young, dark-furred anthropomorphic horse who was roughly the same height as Fox. In the low light, Fox had a difficult time figuring out the driver's fur color, but he guessed dark brown or maybe black.
Upon seeing Fox in his white flight jacket and boots, red scarf and green jumpsuit, the driver's eyes went wide.
"M-Mister…McCloud…?" he stammered. And continued standing there in shock.
Fox tried to stifle a small laugh. He'd been caught with this stare several times before. "Fox," he corrected the driver. He knew the driver was going to be in shock for a while, so Fox preempted waiting and said, "I need to go to the shuttle docking port."
"Oh. Yes. Uh, this way, please," the driver said. He strode clumsily toward the waiting taxi, which was an unlabeled black SUV. The vehicle was hovering gently in the driveway. Inside was a meter for the going rate, which served as the only indicator of this vehicle being a taxi. The transportation department for Corneria City quickly found out that a run-of-the-mill SUV was much less likely to be attacked than any other vehicle. Which explained why most of the taxis were this type of vehicle.
Fox groaned on the inside, reminded for the umpteenth time that it was very easy to impersonate a taxi driver. However, Cornerian law dictated several regulations that had to be followed to the letter. You could check for a small sticker on the lower passenger side of the windshield. The driver was required to announce his or her start and end points, as well as the desired route on a two-way communications channel. Not only that, the vehicle couldn't start without approval. Any unannounced deviation from the planned route would deactivate the taxi. Several other failsafes were in place to protect taxi drivers and their passengers.
The driver opened a back door for Fox and stood dutifully, waiting for him to enter. Fox climbed in and tossed his bag onto the empty seat next to him. The driver closed the door behind him.
The natural-toned LEDs illuminated the area enough for Fox to see the silhouetted driver through the tinted windows of the taxi. He watched as the driver nonchalantly scratched an itch under his chin.
The driver disappeared from Fox's view for a brief second and then reappeared, putting something into his pocket. He walked around the taxi and climbed into the driver's seat, just as an SUV passed Fox's driveway.
"Docking port?" the driver asked.
"Yes," Fox replied.
"Taxi W-41. 83 Greywall Drive to Shuttle Docking Port located in West Corneria City. Taking direct route using Bypass 8," the driver announced using a radio collar.
The driver waited for a minute or so. A reply from the receiver mounted near the gear shift filled the cab. "Shuttle Docking Port confirmed. You may proceed." At that point, the instrument panel lit in a soft green color, signaling the driver he had full control of the vehicle.
The driver pulled the SUV into gear and pressed a button on the meter, causing it to begin timing the trip. He backed out of the driveway and began traveling on Greywall Drive. Fox knew the docking port was about an hour's drive away from his home, so he tried to get at least some rest. But before he could truly drift off, he noticed the driver looking at him through the rear-view mirror every five seconds or so. It wasn't the wow-I-can't-believe-it's-Fox-McCloud look. The driver had more of an anxious expression on his face.
After a few glances, Fox finally picked up on it and asked, "Is something wrong?"
"Oh," the driver said. "N-nothing. It's just…I never thought I'd…well, get the chance to meet you."
"Um. Okay," Fox said, thoroughly confused by what this driver was saying compared to how he was behaving. "Are you gonna watch the road?" he asked quickly. A guardrail on the right side of the taxi was getting too close for Fox's comfort. An amber warning light appeared on the instrument panel, and the dashboard chimed at the driver.
The driver gasped and yanked the wheel back to the left, the taxi lurching back into the correct lane. "S-sorry," he said quietly after a few seconds.
"Keep your eyes on the road, kid," Fox said flatly.
"Y-yessir."
Fox had been on the route between home and the docking port several times. He knew there were four major intersections with stoplights, followed by several kilometers of a bypass. Eventually, they'd take the exit marked "Shuttle" and turn right. That road led directly to the port, located about ten kilometers off the bypass. Right now, the taxi was stopped at the second intersection, waiting for the signal to turn green. It did, and the driver continued toward the port.
It didn't take long to reach the third intersection, and the signal turned yellow at just the right time. The signals stayed yellow for three seconds, and considering the distance between the taxi and the intersection, the driver had a chance to get through the intersection before the signal turned red. He thought about risking it, but remembered the taxi services in Corneria City absolutely hated any kind of dangerous driving, especially when so many dignitaries were living here.
"Crud," the driver mumbled under his breath. He stepped on the brake pedal, slowing the taxi down with a small lurch. Fox shrugged it off. The stoplights in the city sometimes seemed to have a little bit of evil in them.
As the taxi slowed, a red aura settled in the cab, which meant the other street had right-of-way.
"Yes, now," the driver said quietly.
"What?" Fox asked.
But before he could register what was going on, the driver let off the brake, opened the door and dove out.
"Shit!" Fox saw it coming just barely in time and braced his right shoulder for an impact. He covered the back of his neck with his hands and leaned forward, trying to get away from the imminent shards of glass.
The other vehicle, also an SUV, slammed into the taxi with a deafening crunch. Fox was thrown to his right as the seat belt held tight against his chest. Air bags on Fox's right side quickly inflated, sparing him from dislocating his shoulder, but he was knocked senseless by the whiplash. Fox's went briefly deaf as he felt at least one muscle in his neck strain against the collision. His right leg was shoved toward his left as the front end of the oncoming vehicle crumpled against the roll cage of the taxi, creating a broad indentation in the taxi's frame. The window inches above Fox's back shattered and rained glass all over him and the floorboard beneath his feet. The taxi rolled onto its left side, where the driver's side windows spider-webbed before shattering as well.
Fox grunted in pain, his neck begging for mercy as he tried to keep himself generally in his seat. But it was almost impossible to fight gravity like this when he was already disoriented and in pain. He couldn't think and react quickly enough to avoid several glass fragments embedding themselves in his left side.
The taxi groaned to a halt as it upended itself completely, coming to rest on its roof with a loud crunching noise. Fox's vision was blurring on the edge of darkness, his hearing almost nonexistent, and he had no idea what was up or down. He felt an occasional drip from his nose and noticed it had a coppery odor. He was bleeding, but how much blood he was losing was anyone's guess. As the darkness closed around him, Fox felt his arms drop, the backs of his hands crashing into the roof below him, and everything went black.
Outside of the wreckage, the taxi driver spotted a black car heading his way. It pulled to a stop about a hundred feet away from the crash, and the back passenger door opened. The driver walked to the car and got in. He pulled the door shut as the car turned around and drove away like nothing was wrong.