First and Above All Else

On the planet of Katina, there are places where Solar could cast heat and light harsh enough to bake the landscape bare of all but the toughest vegetation. For miles in every direction, there was only dust, dry earth, and a hint of craggy mountains in the far distance. Against this flat nothing stood the single, monumental pyramid structure of Katina's Fort Bierce Academy...

On an outer terrace near the top of this colossal building, furnished with little more than a bare table and a set of folding chairs, a well acquainted pair conversed intently with each other.

"What do you mean 'we can't risk it'? This is an Intelligence agency, we're supposed to take these sort of risks to learn all we can. How can you stand there and tell me the answers aren't worth the trouble to find them?..."

In this dry heat, Rick Cooney dispensed with the jacket and tie of his typical secret-service attire, and made do with just the plain white shirt –rolling the sleeves up and unbuttoning the collar to provide a little more thermal relief.

The agent turned toward an older muddy-furred rabbit at the edge of the terrace, and waited for an answer...

Colonel Peter Cotton wore his customary Cornerian senior-officer's uniform, but kept the jacket undone as he usually did during informal occasions. He leaned onto and gripped the terrace railing with both hands, his head sagging and his eyes drooping from fatigue...

Pete took a hesitant breath, turned to face Rick, and closed in on him as he began his explanation...
"Listen here Ricky, between the hijacking, the trigger-happy Cornerians, and the complete 180 reversal of the Andross case... Union Congress, and the rest of the system for that matter, has Intelligence up to here..."
Now face-to-face with Rick, the older rabbit gestured with his hand to indicate his neck...
"...in nothing but shit, and it's my ass on the line..."

Pete found the plain metal table and chairs set on the terrace, and gestured for Rick to take a seat. Once they both seated the rabbit elaborated on the 'shit' he was up to his neck in...

"The Congress is in utter shambles. Cornerians want one thing, Zonessians another, Macbethians, Titanians, and Katinans: this, that, and the other. Everyone wants to blame someone else; some of them point fingers, some give the finger... heck, it nearly came down to fisticuffs between Carrion of Corneria and Grajo of Zoness –I ain't seen such swearing at a drunken bar-fight..."

Pete stopped himself, and gave his forehead a weary, full-handed rub.
"Do yourself a favor Ricky, and don't ever get into politics. It's difficult enough trying to coordinate a discreet, cross-system covert agency across the high echelons, but having a bunch of bickering blowhards breathing down your neck, wanting to watch everything you do, is just stifling..."

He got his act together, and got back on his train of thought...
"Now you tell me Ricky, while most all of Lylat is ready to bust a blood vessel from freaking-out, tell me exactly why sniffing around this wasp's nest is the best course of action..."
Pete set his elbows on the table, laced his hands together, and waited for Rick to respond...

The raccoon removed his dark glasses, and began to wipe the lenses with his shirt-cloth.
"I have reason enough to believe there is something deeper going on and~"

The elder rabbit expected this exact response –and rolled his eyes as he interrupted Rick mid-sentence.
"Well sorry to bust your bubble Ricky, but everyone and their mother thinks there's 'something going on'. This whole fiasco is the political squabble-fodder of choice right now, and nobody can seem to shut their damned blow-horns over it for a second! You're gonna have to do better than that if you want to convince me to do something about it..."
Pete leaned back in his chair, daring the raccoon to try again.

Rick folded his dark glasses, and coolly placed them into his shirt pocket before responding with a comparably cool confidence.
"And that, Pete, is exactly why we need to look into it..."
He got up, and began to circle the table...
"You know the old adage: 'Where there's smoke, there's fire.'?"

The old Rabbit craned his neck back when Rick passed behind him
"What's your point?"

"As you say, everyone sees this mess -this 'smoke'- and automatically assumes there must be a 'fire' to go with it. But the political noisemakers are too distracted by the big, attention grabbing 'smoke' to see past it for what it may actually be. There is definitely some thick and dirty 'smoke' out there, but I think the 'fire' might just be in their minds..."
He stopped, and leaned on the table across from Pete to emphasize his point.
"This entire mess could be nothing but a smokescreen to hide other actions..."

Rick resumed his steady orbit of the table.
"Take the Andross case: it was overturned in a single day where Congress would've dragged it through the debate floor for at least a week... if they weren't so preoccupied."

The raccoon held his motion and looked over the baked Katina landscape for a moment...
"As arduous and tedious as these policy debates are, they provide the kind of true accountability that ambitious system-wide projects need. If the hot-button Andross case can make it through in one day behind this smokescreen, just think of how much more could be slipping by unnoticed."

"So is this what it's all about, huh?"
Pete asked the sensible question...
"You still think Dr. Andross is guilty?"

"No, I'm not worried about the Andross case itself, I'm much more concerned about the timing of it all..."
Rick then proceeded to elaborate on his point...

"The appeal gets through just as the Doctor is en route to Titania, and that's when the hijacking happens. We get in contact with the pirates barely a day afterward, and they're desperate to get rid of Dr. Andross, because they know he's too hot for them to handle. The Cornerians swoop in like the big heroes they are, the pirates are neutralized, an innocent man is set free, and justice is served for all..."

After a brief pause for effect, Richard Cooney leaned in on the table...
"You cannot possibly think that's all just a remarkable set of coincidences."

The wizened 'Colonel' gave an exasperated sigh and gave his ear a scratch...
"You really want to do this, don't ya Ricky?"

The raccoon took his seat across from Pete once again...
"My mind was made-up before I got here. I just wanted to run it by you."

The elder rabbit reached into his open jacket, removed his communicator...
"I see, in that case..."
...and pressed a single button.
"I'd like you to to meet someone..."

Before Rick had a chance to ask who, a third voice behind him answered...
"Basil Pepper at your service, Colonel."

Cooney Shot out of his seat and whipped around -more from reflex than surprise- to face this new figure.

The newcomer was a yellow-brown bloodhound somewhere in his mid to late twenties, and a textbook soldier by the looks of him. The hound stood at perfect attention dressed in the traditional Katinan Cadet's uniform –however, the rank-slide insignia attached to the shirt's shoulder strap designated his affiliation with the Cornerian Army...

Pete got out of his chair and began to walk past the raccoon agent, who was still examining the newly arrived Basil Pepper.
"For his honorable service in the Cornerian Army, courageous display of valor in the line of duty, and on my personal recommendation no less, Pepper here's been promoted to the rank of Captain~"

Rick tore his inspecting glare from the hound and replanted it on Pete...
"Are you going somewhere with this?"

The elder rabbit came alongside Pepper, and placed a hand on the rigid hound's shoulder before answering Rick's question.
"Pfft. Oh come on Ricky, you of all people know how I go about recruiting. I picked Pepper to be trained as LCI's newest Sleeper Agent..."

"Is this true, Pepper?"
Rick could probably trust Colonel Peter Rabbit better than most anyone, but he still needed to hear Pepper say it himself...

The hound returned Cooney's inquisitive glare with the rock-steady gaze expected of any military officer.
"I serve Lylat first and above all else, Mr. Cooney..."

That was LCI's genuine motto, and spoken like a true soldier. Pepper continued...
"Cornerian Army regulations require me to take a few of their Command courses here on Katina before I can officially assume my new rank as Captain, but there is a twist in my case..."

Pete elaborated on this twist Pepper was referring to...
"Along with his usual Army requirements, Pepper will also covertly undergo the same Intelligence / Counterintelligence training regime I put you through. He's one of us now, and I expect he will be for a while..."
The rabbit noticed Pepper, still standing stiff as a board...
"Goodness, at-ease... and don't you have a class to get to? Para-something or other?..."

Pepper relaxed -a little bit- and supplied the name of the class that escaped the older rabbit.
"Paramilitary Methodology and Implementation, sir..."

"Yeah, that one..."
He gave Pepper a quick slap on the back...
"...better get moving, son."

Rick watched the hound exit just as quickly and quietly as he entered...
"What does this new agent have to do with my proposal to launch an investigation?"

"Pepper is the investigation. Like you and everyone else Ricky, I suspect something dirty's floating about too. I just think it's better to invite ourselves through the front-door rather than sneak around the back –the way you'd want to do it..."

The rabbit returned to the chair he was in before continuing...
"To that end, we'll need a reliable set of eyes, ears and possibly hands in the Cornerian Army, and no one will suspect an unwaveringly loyal officer like Pepper to do anything underhanded. "

After running the possibilities though his head, Rick hastily retook his seat and tweaked his earlier proposition...
"Pete, we could go at this from both fronts. You take the high-road with your Sleeper operation in the Army and I'll take the low-road, watching the movement on the outside. If there is a connection, we're bound to meet in the middle somewhere."

The rabbit fiddled with something on his uniform...
"I take it you've got some sort of plan?..."

The raccoon gave a quick nod, and continued to race through his line of thought...
"Like any investigator, I'd like to start with the scene of the crime: the wreck of that prison ship. If there is even the smallest tangible clue or the slightest shred of connection in there, than the ability to further investigate this incident will be worth any publicity risk."

"But you'll have to find a way to do it quietly –I simply can't have all the senators of congress beating down my door demanding to know whats going on..."

Rick was already two steps ahead along this line...
"Rachelle is already in Port Seyid on Zoness, waiting for the green light to begin setup. We've got the contacts and connections to work effectively undercover, all we need are the monetary resources from LCI to pull it off..."

Pete gave his chin a quick, thoughtful scratch and offered one final warning...
"You two got lucky when Dagger let you in on their little field-trip, but going out there under the noses of Congress, and into this environment, is a whole other can of worms..."

Rick leaned his elbows on the bare table and drilled his eyes through Pete's own...
"Rache and I are ready and willing to take the our chances here, what about you Pete?"

The older rabbit leaned back and drummed his fingers on the table as he mulled it over –then stopped when he finally made his decision...
"LCI requisitions will soon have an 'accounting error' in the credit reserve. When this happens, I suggest you assist in 'correcting' this error as quickly as possible."

Richard Cooney stood up from his seat, removed the dark wire-framed glasses from his shirt pocket, and replaced them over his eyes...
"Consider it done."


Fang sliced through the atmosphere, pulverizing otherwise harmless inert gases into a white-hot blaze outside the craft. At it's blinding speed of many kilometers per second, the fighter's impact shields completely decimated any air molecules it collided with, and produced nearly pure thermal energy from the friction. Such were the glorious fires of atmospheric reentry common to every spacecraft...

It never gets old...

With his hands firmly on the controls, James Mcloud checked the altimeter, speedometer and other instruments to ensure a smooth, controlled decent. At the right moment, the vulpine pilot activated Fang's G-Diffuser systems and feathered the thruster trio into reverse. The fighter responded with a slight jolt as forces from the engines were introduced, and the opposing force of gravity negated to reign-in the craft to a reasonable atmospheric velocity...

The inferno outside the cockpit canopy died away, and revealed the darkened, night sky of the planet Corneria. Yet despite the darkness outside, lights from Corneria City below presented a spectacular light-show that could only be properly appreciated from above.

James guided the fighter through the city's airspace toward the main spaceport at the outskirts, and didn't bother to get clearance from Port Control. Fang, along with the rest of Star Fox's craft, came with automated clearance to the facility they're based out of –one of the many perks of being your own boss...

He passed over the rows of enormous dry-docks and berthing wharfs used by the largest vessels, over the terminal buildings and gates for the smaller, faster commercial spacecraft, and away from the main port structure toward an inconspicuous little building on the edge of the spaceport grounds. It wasn't much more than a modest hangar and maintenance workshop attached to a meager single-story office building, similar to most independent charter operations based out of this spaceport...

James found the remote door-control bolted onto the cockpit, and when in range, used it to open the hangar doors as he maneuvered Fang into it's home. He lowered the landing carriage and set Fang down in the empty spot where he took-off from, opened the cockpit-canopy, and powered-down...

"I could really get used to this mercenary thing..."
Mostly to himself as he undid his harness...

The vulpine pilot vaulted out of Fang's cockpit and landed solidly on the polished concrete hangar floor in a crouch. He couldn't resist giving that little trick a try~

"Ah, there ye be, lad. We wus almost a wee bit worried aboot ye..."

James hastily spun around to find Scott walking across the hangar bay door toward him. The terrier sported a curious set of pipes on his person. Under one arm was a leather airbag, with a small set of bellows under the other. Strapped across Scott's chest, the drone and regulator pipes were arranged together in a neat bundle, and he held the chanter in one hand. All of it was hooked together by a complex system of air-hoses.

Since he didn't expect to find anyone here this late, James had every right to ask...
"What are you doing here?"

Scott stopped near the entrance of the hangar where an empty cloth sack lay on the floor...
"Just givn' the pipes a blow..."
The terrier compressed the airbag with his elbow, which produced a wheezy chord from the drone and regulator pipes...
"Ye get a fine acoustical resonance in here, ken?..."

When all the air was out of the bag, Scott began to disassemble his pipes and place the components into the sack...

James was just on his way to exit, removing his tipless flight-gloves and stuffing them into a pocket~

"So... how'd ye like her?"
~when he got a question from Scott.

The fox glanced back toward Fang, and offered an answer...
"She's a little touchy, but I think we're gonna get along just fine."

Scott placed the last piece of his pipes into the sack, the chanter, and cinched the mouth of the bag shut. "Aye, that about covers how ye feel about the bonny las o' yers, so what about Fang?"

His response caught James by surprise –reflexively standing-up his russet fur and pricking his ears as he was stopped in his tracks...
"Uh, what?"

The terrier guffawed at the abashed young fox, and hoisted his loaded sack over his shoulder...
"Dont give me that, laddy. Ye're so hocked-up on McCloud Nine, ye could launch yerself intae orbit on it. So what really happened out there?"

The two passed through the hangar entrance and into an ordinary hallway. James glanced sheepishly about, and tried to change the subject away from his personal life...
"I don't think this is the best time to get into that –you only just lost your team a few days ago~"

Scott quickly turned around and snapped at James, cutting him off mid-sentence...
"What? Ye expect me tae spend the rest o' me days grievin', do ye? Granted, I've stepped intae a mighty lot o' keech in me time, an' I probably deserve a wee nip or two. An' ye ken what? I don' care. I'm gettin' back on me feet, I'm goin'ae keep movin', an' I in't goin'tae git stuck in the whirlypits, ye ken?"

They began moving through the building again...
"Look Scott, I'm not trying to offend you, it's just..."

The charcoal-furred terrier simply waved Jame's condolences away.
"Ah, come off it m'boy. If ye'd offended me, I would'nae given ye a chance tae apologize fer it. Besides, ye need tae quit changin' the subject..."

They stopped when they came to a door at the end of the short hallway.

Jame's fur stood up again –all this talk around his relationships was beginning to get on his nerves...
"It's my personal life, and I'll talk about it when I want to."

Scott responded with quick chuckle, and a few words of warning laced with mocking cynicism...
"Alight then, I'll nae ask anymore about the lass, but ye'd best no' let her become a problem, and try not tae let the ragin' hormones clout ye in the arse on the way out..."

The terrier swung the door open and entered a typical office break room. One wall of the was lined with a small piece of kitchen, complete with refrigerator, countertop, microwave oven and many basic amenities one would expect in such a place. In the middle of the room was a simple table and chairs setup, where Scott set down his sack.

James followed close behind, and promptly shot his mouth off...
"I don't need life lessons from a drunken has-been~"

Scott whipped around unnervingly close to James and jabbed a forefinger into his chest.
"An' I don' need back-talk from a pheromone-scuppered twanger..."

The younger fox and older terrier exchanged a subtle, silent glare between them –each daring the other to rebut their remarks...

Their friction probably would've escalated further if not for a third voice...
"He may be a belligerent, nosy drunk, but Scott's lived a hell of a lot more life than you, Jim –and in more ways than one..."
The voice of Richard Cooney...

Sure enough, when James and Scott peeled their eyes off each other and looked for the source, they found the raccoon standing just inside the open door with a rolled-up newspaper under one arm. He was dressed in his typical dark suit, but the jacket was unbuttoned, and an undone tie hung from his shirt collar...

Rick stepped away from the door toward the two onlookers...
"On the other hand: we were all young and stupid once, and Jim has every right to enjoy it while he still can."

"Crivens, Rich. Would it kill ye tae call ahead before droppin' out o' the blue like tha'?"
The terrier broke away from James, and crossed the room toward the fridge...

Rick stopped alongside James, and answered Scott's question...
"Depending on the circumstances, I just might've been killed if I did..."

Scott scoffed a bitter reply over his shoulder...
"Spare me th' gallows humor, ye canny sleekit..."
He opened the refrigerator and began to rummage through it to the sound of clinking liquor bottles...

James lowered his voice, and asked a question...
"Do you have any idea what's gotten into Scott?"

Rick offered a shrug and a head-shake with his response...
"Honestly, I gave-up trying to psychoanalyze him years ago, but my guess would be some sort of denial..."
He took a seat at the breakroom table...
"Basically, Scott over there would like to think he's tough enough to weather this shit-storm his life is turning out to be..."

The terrier slipped a hip flask out of his back pocket, opened it, and refilled the thin stainless-steel container with a dark amber whiskey pulled from the refrigerator...

James joined the raccoon at the table...
"Yeah, I figured as much –do you think he can handle it?..."

Scott returned to the table under the combined, concerned stares of Rick and James...
"What're youz keekin' at?..."
He picked up his sack of pipes from the table, slung it over his shoulder, and trudged out of the room –leaving Rick and James to themselves.

The raccoon answered Jame's question only when Scott was well out of earshot...
"I'd be worried if it were anyone else, but Scott is one stubborn nut. Only time will tell if he can pull himself through this..."
He pulled the loose tie out of his shirt collar...
"He'll feel better after a drink at least..."

James got up from his seat and made for the half-kitchen along the breakroom wall...
"So what brings you here Rick, and at this hour?"

Rick found a pocket, and stashed his tie into it...
"Business, I'm sorry to say..."

"We can talk about that over coffee if you want, Peppy likes to keep a pot ready to go..."
He found the pressure-brewer on the counter and activated it, forcing the steaming dark liquid into a glass coffee pot below...

The raccoon allowed himself an amused smirk...
"You should've gotten a girlfriend years ago, Jim..."

"Hows that?"
James opened a nearby cupboard and searched a hand through it...

"You were put through four years worth of the toughest military training Lylat has to offer, and you still came out the same undaunted, cocky daredevil you were before you went in there –I'd wager you came out more so. But it only takes a few days and one date with this Reinard girl, and you're already offering~"

James turned and cut-off Rick...
"Do you want the coffee or not?..."
He held an empty mug in each hand, and a undeniable expression of annoyance on his face...

James McCcloud and Richard Cooney exchanged an awkward, stony silence between them –interrupted only when the pressure-brewer chimed, signaling that the coffee was ready.

Rick knew he'd struck a nerve, and decided it'd be better to back off and yield to the fox's implied demands...
"Sure Jim, with just a tiny bit of cream would be great..."
He turned away from James, opened up the newspaper and skimmed over an article...

The fox turned his attention to the coffee –pouring out two mugs worth, and adding the cream and sugar...
"So tell me about this 'business' you came here for..."
…while he steered the subject away from his personal life.

Rick turned a page of his newspaper and carried on as if it were a normal conversation...
"You've been to Zoness, right?"

James returned with a pair of piping hot mugs filled with the fresh brewed coffee...
"A few times –nice place to get away for a vacation. Why?"
...one of which he offered to his guest.

Rick accepted the steaming mug, and proceeded to elaborate on his point...
"It certainly is one impressive planet, but don't be fooled by those gleaming port-cities. Zoness gets that kind of money from an extraordinarily high demand for steel, courtesy of neighboring Macbeth's manufacturing industries. That demand for raw materials is what fuels the Zonessian iron-ore mining and steel refining businesses –one the dirtiest, most cut-throat competitive corporate affairs in all Lylat..."

The raccoon folded the newspaper and took a careful drought of his coffee before going on...

"It's said that competition between companies breeds innovation, but when that competition gets out of hand, it will also inevitably breed hostility. The Zoness Authority Protectorate, 'ZAP', is an laughably pathetic excuse for large-scale law enforcement, and the companies will generally settle these kind of disputes on their own –often hiring mercenaries as muscle for their dirty-work..."

The pause was enough of a hint, but Rick tied up the loose-ends of his speech anyway...

"Sometime within the next 48 hours or so, one such hostile cross-company incident is going to break-out on Zoness. Your Star Fox mercenary unit will then be highly recommended and subsequently hired to settle it."

James was listening so intently that he'd hardly touched his own coffee. Rick's last statement demanded a question begged...
"How do you know this?"

It was exactly the question Richard Cooney was expecting...
"Because Jim, it will all be staged..."

He set the folded newspaper on the tabletop with the front-page and headlines for all to see...
Crooks Break-out, get Broken-up.
The accompanying photo was a still-frame of the Sector-X dogfight, and the front page story was on that very subject...

James took the newspaper and looked over the article. Rick took this time to explain himself...
"When I looked into investigating this whole hijacking and payback fiasco, the Zonessians were more than happy to oblige. Now, try to understand, the power players on Zoness are... let's just say 'less than a thrilled' at the Cornerians flexing their military muscles in everyones' faces, and on their home turf. They on Zoness want to know what the hell is going down just like as the rest of us, but unlike most, they're willing to get their hands dirty and work under the table to do it –they're practically used to it by now~"

James looked up from the paper, and interrupted before he completely lost the speeding train of thought...
"Hold up. Where exactly does my team and I fit into this?"

The raccoon took a few seconds to organize his thoughts, then answered Jame's question in-full...
"According to the paperwork, your team will be contracted by one of the mining companies to do the fairly typical mercenary work of neutralizing an armed conflict. But here's the catch: instead of intervening in this 'conflict', you will assist Rache and I directly with our investigations. She's arranging everything on the Zoness end, so all we need now is your team's cooperation."

Richard Cooney took another drink of his coffee, and waited for the inevitable question from James...

"So, let me get this straight. You're faking an entire hostile engagement just to cover your investigations?"

Rick nodded quietly...
"It's only this once. Rache and I don't have any leads whatsoever on this case and as it stands, the only place we're going to find something is in the wreck of that prison ship. If you've paid attention to even half the crazy politics involved in it~"

James rolled his eyes and dropped the newspaper back on the table...
"Right, I get it –more covert-ops shenanigans... But why Star Fox? Why can't you use some other, more experienced mercenary unit?"

"Okay, two reasons Jim..."
He listed them off on his fingers...
"Number one: all of you in this team are firsthand eyewitnesses to the Sector-X incident and I want you to be there to assist this investigation. Number two: in this particularly volatile matter, I'd like to use a group that won't be a liability to my or Rache's cover –that'd be you. Believe me, if I had better options at my disposal, I wouldn't be here..."
He finished off the last of his coffee, and set the empty mug down...
"So, got any more burning questions?"

James drummed his fingers against the table, and produced one such question...
"Yeah, do I get any choice in this?"

"Of course, Jim..."
The raccoon picked his newspaper off the table...
"You can either choose to compromise an undercover operation on which the continued stability of the Lylat system could hinge..."
The raccoon agent allowed a quick smirk to cross his face...
"...or, you can choose to get paid."

James couldn't help but chuckle at Rick's answer...
"Mercenary, right... I guess I'll take pay."

"Good choice. Just meet-up where and when your client agrees to, Rache and I will be there to fill you in on further details when you get there..."
Rick got out of his chair...
"Speaking of which, I need to take-off for Zoness –so this is goodbye..."

James likewise stood up from his seat...
"It was good to have to stop by, even at these hours. I'll be sure to let the guys know what's up."

"Good to hear, Rache and I'll see you on Zoness then..."
Rick started toward the door, buttoning his jacket as he walked...

"Oh, and one more thing Jim..."
He stopped just short of the doorway, and turned his head to the side...
"...You really should slow down and take it easy with this Reinard girl. You've still got your whole life ahead of you to live."
Then he left.

Left to himself, James picked up his still untouched mug of coffee, and gave it a little absent-minded stir.
His thinking mind wandered into the distance, and to wherever his whims took him...