Peppy Hare – Lavender-Ring, Corneria
General (For how much longer, I wonder, he thought) Peppy Hare stood over a tactical readout in his office. The image displayed on the screen underneath his resting palms was of Cornerian airspace, and all the minute details of what was occurring at present. The image was displayed in a grid map format, with color-coded dots representing a different variety of ships. Orange clusters (signifying illegally unidentified space-crafts) were subject to an encirclement of red (Cornerian Defense Force), and that told Peppy that most of the imposters in Cornerian airspace were contained. He looked up through the thin golden glasses sitting on his snout, and gave an appreciative nod to a Cornerian sergeant positioned on the other side of the large display-top.
"Thank you sergeant. The CDF is to be commended for the job their doing rounding up all those trouble-makers without the supervision of Admiral Endico" Peppy said. The sergeant, a tall and skinny male canine, returned the nod.
"Yes, General sir. Why do you suppose there are so many unidentified crafts in Cornerian airspace, sir?"
"I am not at liberty to say, Sergeant" Peppy replied. He slid his pair of glasses into a more comfortable spot. The sergeant understood the limitations of his need-to-know basis and rested his eyes back on the display, plunked in the middle of the office just before the entryway. Peppy's symmetrical set of buck teeth snuck out from behind the curtaining of his top lip, and the hare then beaconed the sergeant's attention with a gesture. "I want to know everything, Sergeant – even the slightest of changes. If there's anything happening that's even remotely suspicious, then I want to be aware of it. Clear?"
"Yes sir" the sergeant responded systematically.
"Thank you Sergeant, you are dismissed" Peppy said. The black and white canine saluted the general, and then left the room. Peppy waited for the sensory-activated doors to close with an air-tight squeak, and then sighed. He dropped his hands down to his side and wandered over to the rear of the office, and stood between two majestic, colossal auburn pillars supported the ceiling. Each of the foundations donned decorative flags near their tops, the blue and white patriotic symbol of the Cornerian Government on one, and the red Cornerian Military logo on the other. The two flags were almost identical aside from their coloration, however Peppy found the placement of them together ironic.
Since when have the government ever thought along the same lines as the military, he cynically grumbled to himself. Glorious red drapes hung from the tops of each pillar, complimenting the overzealously massive viewport that absorbed every degree of the daytime sun. Peppy's eyes looked out through the viewport, and although the old hare hated nothing more than doing nothing he couldn't stamp out the growing anxiety assuming control of his concentration. For every minute that passed, Peppy convinced himself a little bit more that he was going to lose his job. He had put his career at stake for Dash Bowman before, but this time the appearance of Star-Fox had caught the commander-in-chief's eye. He laughed to himself when he considered the example it created of the inability of the government and the military to work in unison.
And then, another example of that same hypocrisy exploded into Peppy Hare's office. Pandora Marco was armed with a squad of Cornerian troops and she made no efforts in hiding her dismay toward Peppy Hare. As she came before the display-top separating her from Peppy, she took a quick glance at it, and then dramatically slapped her hands upon it. The resulting noise caused Peppy to wonder whether her theatrics had caused her any pain or not. Pandora's brown eyes widened into ThornTail eggs as she stared maliciously at Peppy. Peppy's grey hands wrapped around each other in a non-threatening gesture as a dreary washed-out bitterness manifested upon his face.
"Good morning Commander-In-Chief" Peppy said civilly.
The brilliant black and white fur over Pandora's face seemed to be standing on end, and her accompaniment of Cornerian soldiers looked about ready to open fire.
"You had no right to authorize that kind of operation, and now we've lost all communications with the Silver Tiger" the bear hissed. Her knuckles protruded from under rippling fur as her fingers twisted. She stuck her head forward and tilted it sideways. "I hope you feel like you've accomplished a good day's work, General Hare" she said with sarcasm of an epic magnitude. Peppy was wise enough not to say a word that could potentially incriminate him even more so, but he feared his cunning wouldn't last long. Pandora looked at group of turquoise-uniformed Cornerians and pointed at Peppy. "Arrest him."
Although a mixed bag of Pandora's personal guard unit seized Peppy in a bombardment, the general did his best to stay calm. His wrists were fastened together with pulse-binders and one of the soldiers led him toward Pandora via a hand on Peppy's shoulder. Peppy soon realized that staying calm wasn't his problem; it was trying to suppress the urge to mouth off to the commander-in-chief what was sitting on the tip of his tongue.
"So did you think this one through, Commander? Or is it another one of your trademark reprisals?"
Even the guards stopped in their tracks and exchanged looks among one another uncomfortably. It was evident Pandora couldn't believe her ears and she almost mouthed to Peppy to repeat himself. She menacingly barraged her way through the bunched guards and stuck her uncharitable nose in Peppy's face.
"How bald of you, General Hare, to make such comments after what you've ensured today" she began distastefully. "Are you aware that the Silver Tiger was Corneria's warhorse… our one glimmer of hope of defending against Venomian attacks? Did you consider this before you sent a young group of Cornerians to their deaths?"
"With all due respect Commander, you made the call to divert the Silver Tiger's course. Not me. And I believe that's the kind of order that is under my jurisdiction" Peppy shot back. His ears were rigidly sticking in the air like a sore tail. "And I'm simply warning you Commander, of the impending controversy you threaten to ignite amongst the Cornerian people. You'll only bring a war upon us sooner, Pandora."
"That's irrelevant now, Peppy."
"Is it? Won't you give a chance to allow your own people to prove to you they're not as foolhardy as you may think?"
"Hah!" Pandora cackled monstrously. An amused look swallowed her face. "Could you possibly be suggesting I let this operation on Venom to continue?"
"You can't stop it. Dash Bowman is already on the ground. Letting the planet know now will only segregate the people, and… who knows what kind of chaos it might cause out there in the Lylat. But if you play your cards right, you might be able to reward Corneria for having faith in its government… for the first time in a long while."
Pandora Marco began to stroke the collar of her sky blue, golden lined uniform. The supremacy of her command dwelled within her, as Peppy could see, but she decided against exercising her authority over him without reasonable justification. For a moment, giving in to Peppy's ideals had made her feel powerless, but her temptations were suppressed as it was the temporary sacrifice that she needed to make to stop all hell breaking loose upon Corneria. Unsure and wearily, her eyes wandered over to the brown feline in charge of the unit. She gave him a bitter nod, and he went to release the binds around Peppy's wrists. There was a clicking deactivation from the pulse-binders and the squad leader stepped away from Peppy's side. Pandora's expression as she looked at Peppy told the hare his immediate superior felt gutted like a fish. She breathed out her disenchantments in a sigh and flicked a disciplining finger at the general.
"You've been around a long time, Peppy. You've earned the people's trust and you're the hero they love to love. And because of this, if I don't have your… oh-so-sanctimonious backing, I appear as the villain. Don't forget who's really in charge here" she said. Her warning was dashed with sour taste left in her mouth.
"Of course, Commander" Peppy replied. She headed for the doors, and over her shoulder dished out orders to the squad leader.
"I want General Hare under constant surveillance. Plaster this office with holographic recorders. And for Lylat's sake find out where that blasted Star-Fox team is, and follow their every move. If one of them goes to the restroom, I want to know about it. Are we clear, squad commander?"
"Yes mam!" the feline responded promptly. Peppy had figured the commander-in-chief proclaimed her instructions in front of him to substitute for the lack of control in her decisions beforehand. She also wanted him to understand crystal clearly, that he wouldn't be able to do so much as to request a hot drink without Pandora knowing about it.
The bar was previously called The Traveler's Vale, but the only path Fox could see the bar leading to, was either an inept state of grandeur after consuming too much of the joint's dangerously mind-altering drinks, or outside – after the bouncer had thrown you out. The owners of the establishment had obviously come to this conclusion as well; the evidence being the renaming of the bar to The Drunken Skunk. The hour was approaching midday in Corneria City; alas the bar was empty aside from Falco Lombardi, Fox McCloud and a few retired war veterans who engaged in the gambling activities the bar provided on a daily basis. It was unofficially the assembly point for Fox and his comrades when 'official assembly points were no longer an option'. Therefore, Fox was not seated in unfamiliar territory, and the bar owner would tend to turn a blind eye to the blaster tucked under his flight jacket whenever he entered. A crimson carpet bearing the wounds of stains of all kinds didn't keep any stories to itself – it was a rough place. The black stage covering almost half the bar's space was vacant, and usually only gained a performance on certain nights of the week. Fox sipped on an old-fashioned cup full of a berry-mix shipped from a lonely corner somewhere on Fortuna, while Falco was minding the door from a position further toward the stage. The two would never sit together in a public place such as this hospitable little tavern – one of them always had to be watching the door. Falco was chewing something within his chomping beak like usual, and the sunglasses perched on the crest of his feathery cerulean head bobbed up and down rhythmically. One of his hands rested on the butt of a blaster ready for duty in his black rawhide jacket pocket, the other around his drink.
When two not-so-inconspicuous amateurs casually headed through The Drunken Skunk's entryway, they noticed Falco and appeared quite surprised – though they tried to hide it. The first was a brown feline, very stern-looking, also very skinny; the second was a cleanly-shaven sheep. They wandered through the bar with their hands in their pockets – I wonder why their hands are in their pockets for, Falco chuckled to himself – and formed a crescent in their route. Eventually, they came back to the front doors – the feline even gave a polite nod to Falco – and then strolled outside. When Falco saw Fox frowning with a puzzled face, the avian replied with a loose shrug. However soon afterward, there were loud voices coming from outside. Amongst them was one Falco recognized indefinitely. He straightened up in his seat a bit.
"Check him for the piece, corporal" came the easily identifiable feline's voice. Undercover Cornerians… must be government Falco decided. "Remember… don't bother making anything difficult. It'll be worse for you" the same voice warned.
"I do need some privacy, Sergeant."
Finally, Peppy Hare came hurrying through into the bar. He didn't even spot Falco to his left-hand side as he entered, and headed straight for Fox.
"Tide's in" Peppy said as he clambered atop one of the barstools. It seemed like a mission in itself for the aging general.
"How far in?" Fox asked.
"On the rocks" he replied, jerking his head toward the entrance. Fox put down his drink slowly, and motioned an open palm out to Falco, telling him not to move.
"Did you bring uh…" Fox drifted off, flicking his fingers together obviously. Peppy nodded.
"It's in… a safe place."
"Right" Fox acknowledged. Peppy had deposited Star-Fox's earnings for the prior mission into a secondary account – one Fox had registered under a certain James McCloud… who was in fact dead, yet the banks didn't seem to mind.
"The extra that your friend requested…"
"Peppy – you didn't" Fox interjected, flaring his eyes wildly at Falco. The avian innocently mouthed 'what' and shrugged his shoulders. Peppy held his hand out reassuringly, cutting Fox off.
"I don't want you to think anything of it… but… Oh, here" Peppy nervously stuttered. From inside his the jacket of his civilian apparel, he produced a data-card, and jiggled it in front of Fox's nose until the vulpine received it. Fox was confused but seeing as how Peppy probably had some kind of third-party listening device planted on him somewhere, neither of them were going to begin asking questions.
"Thank you, Peppy" Fox said gratefully, clutching his old friend's shoulder. "This will be more than enough."
Peppy took in a breath and opened his mouth, revealing his two front teeth. He wanted to say something to Fox, but the words simply didn't come out. Fox was acquainted with the look on Peppy's face – the general was probably going to say something admirable about Fox in relation to his father. But the expression said it all, and Fox understandingly nodded his head. Peppy hopped down from the barstool which was over half his height, and his ears perked up in the air on a more serious note.
"The uh… The rain's going to go where you go now, Fox."
The vulpine laughed – he'd already figured out that the Cornerians would want him under close observation.
"When I woke up this morning, I thought it was much too fine of a day."
Fox and his wingman walked briskly in the shadow of a metropolitan skyway in a crude industrial sector of Corneria City. The two mercenaries sported illegally-overpowered blasters and an arsenal of technical gadgets that if found by Cornerian authorities, could cause them unwanted trouble. When Peppy had passed Fox the data-card in The Drunken Skunk, immediately the vulpine had ruled out the possibility of allowing the shadowing Cornerians to come for the ride. With com devices wrapped around their wrists, the two Star-Fox members had set up an elaborate scheme with the assistance of ROB-64 in the circling Great Fox in the skies above. Fox was amused by the worried manner in which the following undercover Cornerian government agents would check above their heads every now and then. Obviously the agents were panicky about the mercenaries pulling one of their famous deceptive ploys, especially with the presence of the Great Fox circling the area above them in amongst other cargo and freight vessels. Being both boxy and chunky in appearance with the addition of seeming relatively harmless, the Great Fox mingled with the cargo-ships like it was one, and was well camouflaged in amongst the crowd. Although Fox's mother-ship had the eye of the Cornerian agents, it evaded the attention of most civilians, with only one or two people recognizing it here and there.
Falco and Fox had wandered into a market district, where blue-collar workers tended to gather to trade goods and find bargains. Kiosks were scattered through the street, with beings of all shapes and sizes seeking their riches. A webbing of cables and wires that hung over the street, linking power system between neighboring factory complexes, blotted out the sun and soon became an obstacle for Star-Fox's nervous followers.
The two pilots slowly spread apart, with half the undercover team shadowing in their footsteps splitting in half to follow both of them. Falco veered off to the left side of the wide street, entwining with as many paths from other citizens as he could, until eventually he vanished through the slim entrance into an abandoned factory.
Fox carried out the same process, and in civilian clothes became a challenge to spot from a fair distance. Fox had his hands tucked firmly in his pockets, so any ruffians on a rampage charged by adrenaline or overconfidence, wouldn't give him any trouble – provided they didn't have a death wish. He shouldered past a mob of bovines that advertised their poor hygiene habits with their collected stink, and took a hard right behind a hovering transportation unit. The Cornerian-colored hovercraft was packed full of many people of different species and Fox guessed it was a tourist transport. It provided a fitting obscuration from the trailing Cornerian amateurs, and soon Fox was in the safety of a vastly populated docking bay. An immigration office which was barely visible due to the mass of bodies surrounding it was located within a few meters of the entrance to the docking bay, which would work nicely. The bay had overhead shelter, however a large portion of ceiling had been removed; the empty space was used for the landing and launching of air-capable vehicles. The walls were painted white with the trademark Cornerian navy stripe encompassing the entirety of the bay's innards, but almost everywhere, there were posters advertising criminal activity and beckoning for places to live. Fox made his way through a busy cue, and noticed that a few faces were double-taking at his appearance. Being famous came with a price.
"Fox McCloud!" a voice announced from the line. It was some slimy little lizard.
Oh no, Fox gulped. From everywhere in the area, faces turned to catch a brief glimpse of the famous space-fighter pilot.
The snaring feline with a frown invading territory as far down as his eyelids held a communications transmitter up to his mouth and bared his teeth. With a fast pace, he made his way through the bovines and tried to spot Fox McCloud.
"Stay on Lombardi's tail!" the sergeant barked, waving a hand in the opposite direction. A couple of men moved to his left and began snaking through the mass of bodies toward the factory Falco had disappeared into.
"Sergeant! We've lost McCloud!" a nervous voice came.
"Nonsense! He's bound to be in that docking bay somewhere!"
The infuriated sergeant whom refused to be fooled by trickery engaged in an intense, militaristic march into the diverse sea of manifold species. The shadow of the docking bay killed the sun shining through the overhead entanglement of cables and stopped the burning tingle on the back of his neck. His blue Cornerian cap demanded pacification from the overly-talkative city-dwellers trying to befriend immigration officers. A loyal government agent keeping by his commander's side looked toward the sergeant for orders when it was apparent that the naked eye had no advantages searching for Fox McCloud through the swarms of people. "He knows what he's doing" the sergeant mumbled unhappily under his breath.
"Sir?" called the corporal. Distressed russet eyes wandered over to the corporal's direction as the sergeant pondered his next move. Something needed to be done, fast. A gathering of peering eyes fixated on the two uniformed agents standing close to the immigration office, enveloping the Cornerians in a circle. Both concerned and curious, not one of the bystanders tried to attract too much attention, so they made attempts at appearing like they were occupied by someone else's interest. The sergeant glared and studied each one of their faces closely, alerted that by this time Fox may have easily donned a cunning disguise. Alas, the only people standing around were uneasy foreigners.
"Has anyone seen Fox McCloud?" the sergeant announced firmly. Faces conspicuously traded troubled expressions with one another, and this caught the sergeant's eye. The disdainful presence of the feline sergeant made its way into the space of a jittering female amphibian. The bystander's shining lime-colored scales rippled as the sergeant moved in close. The feline tilted his head down to the amphibian, and condescendingly inquired, "Do you know where he is?"
By now, the scene had attracted the attention of most of the crowd surrounding the immigration office, even the Cornerian guards sitting inside the protection of the force-fielded walls were peering over their work desks. The amphibian swallowed hard, appearing to be considering very carefully how she was about to answer the question. Naturally, the sergeant's instincts had told him to go after someone afraid and powerless, so the trembling amphibian had been unquestionably an adequate first choice. She began darting her eyes about, looking for the aid of others, but none answered for her.
"I'll ask you again" the feline sergeant repeated. The corporal started roaming through the crowd, utilizing the imitation skills that his uniform provided, eyeing every separate body within vision. When the amphibian wouldn't answer the sergeant's question, another voice sounded across the rigid silence.
"What do you want Fox McCloud for anyway?" a cocky young hare asked. The feline turned his head, and approached him. "He's uh… probably off shooting bad guys, y'know? Probably too busy to be hanging around on Corneria…"
A few laughs resonated from the group of immigrants at the rabbit's comment.
"Fox McCloud went back out to the main strip" another voice called out.
"No he didn't! He swung by our local tavern for a quick drink!"
"No, no! I heard Fox McCloud say he was on his way to Venom for lunch and reparations!"
As the laughter amongst the crowd grew more debasing and gained decibels, the corporal and sergeant swapped defeated and puzzled looks.
"We don't have time for this!" the sergeant roared.
"Sergeant, outside!" the corporal cried. The two agents dashed through the crowd, pushing and shoving bodies aside to clear a path, in spite of the numerous people obscuring their route. The sergeant arrived at the edge of the docking bay, and although they were no longer surrounded by trouble-causing immigrants, it seemed that they were already too late. Two recognizable aircrafts soared through the sky above, though not high in altitude. One was indefinitely a variant of the traditional Star-Fox Arwing, though the other was more customized. The sergeant recognized it as the Sky Claw, Falco Lombardi's ship.
"Blast it, sir! They slipped right out of our grasp! How did the other team lose Lombardi?" the corporal hissed, clearly aggravated.
"It doesn't matter, it's not over yet" the sergeant murmured. He reached down for his com transmitter, uncoupled it from its holster and lifted it up to his mouth. "Team two, status report?"
"We shouldn't be far from him, Commander."
"You're too late!" the feline roared. "They're already in airborne! Get your behinds outside, now!"
"But sir!" an agent objected over the com device, "Lombardi hasn't…"
"Now!" the sergeant bellowed. He slipped the device back into place and turned to the corporal.
"Sir?"
"Order team three into position, and track the ships' coordinates. We're not going to lose them, understood?"
"Sir!"
The sergeant then looked up at the sky, watching the two ships merge with the significantly larger Great Fox.
Falco Lombardi leaned up against an old unlit sign for repair services in a worn-out hangar. Deterioration had gotten the better of the unused repair hangar's exterior; the type of low-profile unattractive meeting place Falco had always been fond of. Broken machinery and ship parts were literally everywhere, covering the corroded floor plating that would have been spotless once upon a time. There were even a few mischief makers floating about collecting parts for their own illegal bedroom projects, but they were of no concern to Falco. With this amount of junk decorating the hangar, there would be plenty to go round. Falco had even started eyeing up some of the parts lying across the hangar, examining them, though the majority of it seemed to be burned out or too dented to be put to good use. A figure wearing a scraggy jacket that looked like it had seen first-class gutter treatment walked briskly from an opposite entrance of the hangar. Whoever it was, his head was down and his hands were tucked securely in his jacket side pockets. Falco rested one hand on the butt of his right-hand blaster pistol, just in case…
Fox McCloud showed his face and the two slackened off with their stiff postures. They shared a mischievous chuckle as they watched Fox's Arwing II and the Sky Claw travel on auto-pilot into the openings of the Great Fox. The two ships vanished out of sight, though quickly pursued by elite Cornerian fighters. The orange and white colored crafts formed on either side of the Great Fox in an intimidating maneuver, demanding the mother-ship to come to a halt.
"I hope the Cornerian agents won't be too offended. It's nothing personal" Fox said.
"I just hope ROB goes easy on 'em for interrupting his afternoon cruise" Falco added. The two laughed in the wake of deceiving the Cornerian authorities once again.
"It'll be just like old times, Foxie" Falco Lombardi remarked with a giddy excitement. No words could describe Fox McCloud's astonishment at what his eyes were seeing. The two Star-Fox pilots wandered in awe through a spacious control room, running their hands across various inactive computer systems and flight equipment. The floor was constructed of reinforced military plating straight from the Cornerian R&D department, and the sound it produced when Fox took a step was music to the vulpine's ears.
"I… I don't believe it" he said. Fox took a moment to place is hand over his heart, and used the other to rest against the golden-aligned black captain's chair. A 'V' shaped viewport made-up the majority of the forward exterior, and on the outside of the bridge Fox could see a dissected mass of underground rocks. Falco brushed his deep blue quilted digits across the ceiling's metal frame, meandering directionless through a section of carpeted royal red floor on the upper control deck. He shook his head in overwhelming amazement, and let out a sigh.
"It's been almost completely replicated" Falco said.
"Yes" Fox replied. Feeling weak in his knees, the vulpine dropped into the familiar comfort of the captain's chair, and lightly caressed the arms of it.
"With more than a few improvements" Falco added, examining the almost sumptuous finish to the bridge. Fox gazed ahead at the primary engine controls, not focusing his eyes on anything particular but attending to the thoughts in his head.
Peppy, you've done it this time. A small object flickered on the console before him, but it was not a computer indication. As the minute silver item caught the light of Falco's shining belt buckle as the avian strolled by, Fox tilted his head and set his eyes on it. Recognizing it, the captain reached for it out for it and grasped it from atop a blank interface. Fox's fingers hooked through a thin chain linked through the object. It can't be! Fox almost cried aloud.
Within his open hand was a silver token carved in the shape of the Star-Fox insignia – a fox's head, with two outstretched wings. Fox recalled the last time he'd seen the image was sometime before the Anglar War. Old values diminished and friends long gone, the brethren that comprised the team were now separated, scattered across the Lylat.
But that's no reason to forget about all we've fought for. He clasped the memoir tightly in his grip, and sealed his eyes closed. Times have been rough Peppy, but we're both still here… so that's one reason to keep fighting. He revolved the keepsake through his fingers, but stopped when a small engrave called for his attention. In black, on the flipside of the etching, were the initials 'J.M.'
"No way" Fox muttered to himself. I had always thought the original had been lost in my father's death…
The token was the very first ever made, when the original Star-Fox team had been formed. Handcrafted by James McCloud himself, it had somehow found its way through the endless abyss of space back into the hands of the martyr pilot's predecessor, Fox McCloud. How this moment had come to be Fox would refuse to know – never would he worry to ask Peppy. The hardships of obtaining the item Fox knew Peppy would rather leave untold, and all that mattered was the existence of the symbol itself, and whose hands it was in.
Draped over another interface before Fox was a bright wooly red scarf, which the vulpine also assumed belonged to his father, and wasn't a reincarnation of his own he'd lost months ago in a vicious firefight. He stroked the fabric gently, absorbing the texture of the material. An influx of memories burst to life in full color – the scarf felt like the ones his mother would knit him in his youth.
With one hand, Fox slipped the chain and emblem around his neck. Afterward he proceeded to wrap the scarf around his neck, folding and knotting it just like the fresh memories of his mother doing so. Now, he'd realized, it doesn't matter how alone I thought I was. A relaxing warmth soothed the frigid sharp edges in his veins, and Fox released a smile from within. I'm not alone.
"We're not alone" Fox said. Falco, with a peachy grin on his face came to Fox's side.
"What's that around your neck?"
"Just a little something from Peppy."
"Hey! That's our cool badge thing!" Falco exclaimed.
"Yes it is" Fox nodded. "Yes it is…"
"Where'd you get..."
Fox cleared his throat to cut his friend off and stood promptly from the captain's chair. He looked to the main viewport, with a subdued but confident grin. Falco felt the impression of Fox's inner revelations were inspiring, though for no specific reason.
"What are we going to name the ship, Falco?"
"Well," Falco responded almost immediately, as if he had been holding his breath for the question to be asked, "I was thinking the Falconator or something like that, but…"
Fox spluttered an unprepared laugh.
"What?" Falco wimped with a strike to his ego.
"The Great Fox II it is."
"Yeah… okay. That was my next choice anyway."