Peppy

"We're here, sir."

Peppy blinked back his fatigue and looked blankly at his driver for a moment. It took him another second to realize he should probably answer.

"Right, yes, thank you Sergeant," he said.

"If I may, sir?" the driver asked. He was an older man, Cornerian, white hair dusted with very slight hints of gray. He'd been assigned as Peppy's driver shortly after he'd taken office as Consulate General. He was decades younger than Peppy, but he was older as sergeants went. The man's name was Standish. He had a wife and two children, a son and daughter. Driving around an old General wasn't the most glamorous position for a man like him, but it was duty that had the promise of upward mobility, and it was usually the better non-comms that were offered the position.

"Go ahead," Peppy said, picking up his cover from the seat beside him and preparing to step out of the car.

"You need to get some rest, sir," the younger man said, curtly, "I'll come by to pick you up at ten-hundred tomorrow so you can catch up on your sleep."

"You'll be here at zero-six sharp, or I'll consider you AWOL," Peppy answered with a sharp smile to let the sergeant know he wasn't being reprimanded, "I appreciate your concern, but Lylat needs me more than I need my sleep."

"With all due respect, sir, we need you at the top of your game. I've been paying attention to the news, and I think we're going to have a war on our hands soon."

Peppy stepped out of the car and paused a moment to put his cover on his head, straighten it out, and breath in a bit of the night air while he was at it.

"We've had a war on our hands for damn near thirty years, son," Peppy said, wearily, "but I'll take that under advisement. Now go home. Tomorrow's not going to go easy on us."

The sergeant nodded, said, "Aye sir," and once Peppy had closed the door, he drove away, the whispering of the vehicles coils fading into the distance as Peppy turned toward his house.

The mansion was on the outskirts of the Corneria City limit. The city proper was located on a massive man made island in the middle of Lake Minor. The lake was large enough that you couldn't see the opposite bank if you stood anywhere along its shores, but the city was smack in the middle, so you could just see the outlines of the shores all around it if you stood near the edge. If you were looking out from the top floor of one of its skyscrapers, then you'd also be able to see the expanse of urban sprawl reaching out from its southern shore for mile after mile of industrial buildings and cheap housing, or the rich, green tracks of privately owned land that spread out from the north shore, peppered with mansions and gardens until it disappeared behind rolling hills. The funny thing was, most of the city's wealthy and successful tend to have their offices facing north.

Peppy's, or he should say, the Consulate Genreal's mansion was located about a mile from the northern shore. It rested at the top of a small hill, and was surrounded by an elegant, but sturdy stone wall. He remembered seeing it every day from his family's old home, about two miles from where he now stood and just on the edge of House Redding's lands. As a child, he used to play among these hills, and make up stories about what went on in the scary old house behind the wall. As a young man, he'd spent most of his time making trips to the south shore looking for excitement. Now he lived in the in scary, old house behind the wall, and the truth was there was nothing inside it but a tired old man who knew too damn much to ever be at peace.

He found himself standing in front of the door, key in hand, but couldn't bring himself to go inside. He wasn't afraid to admit it to himself, now that there was no one around that needed him, no one to impress or set an example for. He didn't want to go inside because there was nothing in there but a big, empty house. A home was supposed to be comfortable, inviting...safe. He hadn't had a real home since Vivian died.

The door creaked open suddenly, and Peppy looked up from the object in his hand just in time to see the maid jump and let out a shrill squeak. She was an older woman, Katinese, and pudgy. She was kindly, though, and made a damn fine pot of coffee.

"Sorry Lynn," He said, "didn't mean to startle you."

"Oh," she said, fanning her face with a hand and shaking her head, "No no, it's my fault Mr. Hare, I was just locking up. I would have been gone hours ago, but I decided to take a little nap since I'd finished the chores early, and wouldn't you know I slept like a log until a few minutes ago. The place is all yours now though...well, except for the maintenance guy. Young man showed up just before I decided to take my nap, polite sort but looked a little down, poor thing-"

"I'm sorry, Lynn, but the maintenance guy?" Peppy interrupted, "I didn't call anyone for maintenance."

"Oh, well, they come by about once a year to check on the place and tend to this and that," Lynn said, knowingly, "of course it's only been about eight months since the last time, but you know I've been complaining about the faucet in the kitchen for weeks, so I imagine they just decided take care of that for me. Can't believe he's still at it, though! They'll work those poor boys to death and they don't get paid half what I do. Well listen to me gab! I'm so sorry Mr. Hare. I'll go on and on if you let me, but I can tell you're tired. I'll just be on my way, and I'll see you in the morning for your breakfast! Good night, sir!"

Peppy smiled and answered her good night in kind before resignedly pushing through the doors and into the mansion. Had there been a maintenance truck outside? He didn't remember seeing one, but then they probably would have parked on the other side of the building with the rest of the help. He didn't think much of it. He had too much on his mind as is. Nearly every ship in of the Fleet was holding orbit above Corneria in preparation for another war while Cromwell's damnable CDF was deployed all over the system trying to incite one. He had the rest of the council all convinced that a show of authority was what was needed, but that man has ulterior motives, Peppy was sure of it.

He undid his tie as he made the bottom of the stairs and started working at the buttons of his uniform's jacket as he began to climb. He only made it up two steps when he heard his phone ring.

"This is Peppy," He announced after pulling the phone from this pocket and putting it to his ear.

"Hey Peppy, it's me," Katt's voice said, "We landed at that private hangar you said we could use, and we're all putting up for the night in a hotel off the South shore. We were going to stop by tomorrow for a debrief, but Krystal seemed like she had something eating at her. Said she needed to talk to you? I don't know. She just left, so, expect company. Sorry."

Peppy sighed, but said, "Its no problem. I brought her on board, after all. Did she say what was so urgent it could wait until tomorrow?"

"No. Don't think she trusts any of us with whatever it is. Didn't really have time to ask, either. Falco is insisting on hitting the streets tonight. I don't think he's looking for a good time, either. I'm going to have my hands full keeping him out of trouble."

Peppy frowned as he topped the stairs and made for his study.

"Is he going to be a problem?" he asked, pushing the door open just as he was removing his jacket, "because I can't afford to drop whatever I'm doing to keep pulling him out of jail."

It was dark in the office, but he could see by the sliver of light coming in past the partially open door, and he proceeded to hang his jacket on a hook on the wall. That was when he felt it – an old soldier's instincts telling him something wasn't right.

"I'll keep Falco out of trouble," Katt answered, "I think everybody is trying to deal with what we learned from Aleksie...it...it wasn't good, Peppy. Fox may be in way over his head on this one."

Peppy reached over to the light switch and flipped it, but nothing happened, and as he turned to face his desk on the far side of the room, he could just make out a shadowed figure sitting there, silhouetted against the starlight from the window behind him, feet kicked up on the desk.

"Good evening, General," the man said, his voice cool, collected, and just barely concealing a threat, "we need to talk."

"Peppy...?" Katt's voice called out from the phone, "You still there?"

The shadowy figure produced a small device, pressed a button, and set it on the desk as it began to emit a high frequency whine."

"Pep-" was the last thing Katt managed to say before the wave phone's signal was cut.

"What are you doing here?" Peppy asked in low tone.

"What am I doing on Corneria?" he asked in return, "I came as a favor to a friend. Had a talk with Pepper. The man had a lot to say before he died."

Peppy felt the blood run out of his face as his hands clenched into fists.

"Fox..." he uttered, "what did you do?"

The man snorted indignantly, but ignored the question, saying, "Or did you mean what am I doing here, in your office? Because I haven't really decided on that one."

The moon appeared from behind a cloud, shedding just enough light through the window for Peppy to see a blaster resting on the desk in front of the man.

"I guess I'm here for answers," Fox said.

"Fox, please, let me help you," Peppy said, reassuringly "I can-"

"Help me?" Fox interrupted, bringing his feet down and leaning forward aggressively in his chair, "Like you helped my father?"

Peppy took a deep breath, and said, "I didn't know-"

"Bullshit!" Fox barked, his composure evaporating as his fangs glistened in the starlight, "You left him there! You knew he was alive and you didn't do a damn thing!"

Fox's seemed to reign in his anger enough to bring his voice back down to a growl.

"What kind of a man just leaves his friend behind like that?"

That hit Peppy so hard he was left breathless. He could still remember that night. They'd been ambushed, taken captive, but they'd escaped their cell. They'd both been beaten badly, but they had managed to reach the hanger where their arwings were being kept, only to find that Jame's was the only one that was still spaceworthy. He remembered James shoving him, barely conscious, into the cockpit of his damaged Arwing. The image of him laying down covering fire as the fighter pulled away...and seeing him take a hit. The image of James, leaned against a crate, firing until he could no longer hold up his blaster. The last thing he remembered seeing was Andros's men closing in around him. It was all so vivid it brought tears to Peppy's eyes.

He blinked them back, and in a rough voice said, "You weren't there."

Fox was silent for a moment, then, barely above a whisper, Peppy heard him say, "I should have been," then he grew louder and more fierce as he said, "I could have saved him. If I knew he was alive I could have rescued him, but you, and Pepper, and every damn one of you Cornerian bastards lied to me!"

"I thought he was dead, Fox. I saw him go down. I couldn't have known he survived."

"Did you see him die?" Fox asked.

"...no," Peppy answered, crestfallen. He knew he should be angry, that Fox had no right to question him, but, honestly, after days of struggling with this on his own, he just didn't have any fight left in him. He'd been so certain that James had died, and when he'd found out otherwise...he knew where Fox was coming from.

Neither man said anything for a long time, then Fox suddenly tossed something to Peppy. He caught it out of the air, and looked at it under the light from the hall. It was a symbol of some kind, made of iron. An eye in the middle of a ring.

"Are you one of them?" Fox asked as Peppy looked down at whatever it was.

"One of who?" Peppy asked, confused, "Fox, what is this?"

There was no answer. Fox just watched him for a moment, then stood silently. He slid his pistol back into a concealed holster, turned off his jamming device, and started walking toward the door, passing Pepper and stopping just before walking out into the hall. With the light, Peppy could see how he had disguised himself. He was nearly unrecognizable, if you didn't know him well. His eyes were sunken, and bags hung down below them.

The thing that was the most striking, however, were the faint blue lines which reached around from the whites of his eyes, here and there forming just the tip of a glowing blue hexagon.

"Fox..." Peppy began, concerned, but the man just snarled.

"It was an empty casket at his funeral," Fox said, bitterly, "I'm going to find my father. I don't care if its just a corpse, I'm going to bring him home. If you were ever his friend, old man, you'll stay out of my way."

And with that, he walked though the door, and his footsteps carried him down the hall. Peppy, left alone in his big, empty house, walked over to his desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a crystal bottle and a glass, and poured a drink, sinking into his still warm chair as his demons began to haunt him.

. . .

Krystal put away her card and made for the door as her cab driver sped away with ungentlemanly thoughts about her that she pointedly ignored. Peppy's mansion was impressive, but she wasn't here to admire the scenery by starlight. She had to talk to someone about what Redding had said...about her people. She was conflicted and still reeling about what that man, Aleksie, had said, that Fox was likely already captured or dead. She clenched her jaw. She didn't want to think about it, but it just kept coming back up. Was this her fault? Had she driven him to this? No. No, he made his own choices...right? Right...and anyway, if what Redding said was true, shouldn't she pursue his contact?

All this just made her feeling of guilt worse, and she hated it. This wasn't her fault! Maybe she just needed to hear someone else say it, and Peppy had always been kind to her.

You need to stay calm. You're making it difficult to regulate-

Krystal paused just as she was reaching for the door. Who's thought was that? She didn't sense anyone nearby, other than Peppy, but she knew that hadn't been him. She reached out to see if she could get a fix on the source as she opened the door and let herself in. She could feel something, almost familiar, something that almost beckoned to her, but there was something in the way. It was like a machine with a thousand tiny parts moving in a sort of hypnotic rhythm, but she couldn't seem to sense where it was coming from.

Oh! Well, hello there.

Krystal blinked back her surprise as she nearly collided with a man who appeared to be walking toward the door. He looked to be Cornerian, black fur, with a scar on his right cheek, and wearing a custodian's uniform. She couldn't see his eyes since he was wearing a mechanic's cap down low.

"Yes, hello," she said, thinking he'd just greeted her, "do you know if Peppy is..."

He just paused for only a moment, tipped his hat, and walked past her. As he did, she caught just the faintest sense of familiarity. The same as before. Whatever it was it was buried deep beneath that mechanical chaos.

"Excuse me, sir?" Krystal said, trying to catch the man's attention, but he ignored her and pushed out the door and into the night. She went to follow him, almost compelled to do so, when she heard that voice again.

Fox, you're being rather rude, don't you think? She's trying to talk to us.

She didn't recognize the source of those thoughts, but the ones that followed stunned her.

Shut up, Orian!

That was all. Three words boiling up from the cover of some mechanical interference, and her heart leapt into her throat. They belonged to Fox McCloud.

She ran to the door, and peered out into the night, but the man was gone. She could still feel the mechanical thing out there, but was unable to tell where it was coming from. It was so chaotic that it felt like it was going everywhere at once!

"Fox!" she shouted, hoping for an answer. She heard the sound of levicoils whirring to life somewhere in the dark.

"Krystal," she turned around to see Peppy at the top of the stairs, his uniform disheveled, his face holding a hollow expression, and an untouched drink in his hand, "let him go."

As she look up at him, Peppy felt like a tormented soul. Sadness, anger, and bitter memories rolled off him like a fog as he stood, staring out into the dark past where Krystal stood.

"That was him! Fox was here!" she said, confused and wide eyed, "Why was he here?"

Peppy didn't answer.

"Why didn't you stop him?" she asked a bit more darkly.

Again, no answer.

In a burst of anger, Krystal delved for the answer she wanted, and was assaulted by the events that had just transpired in Peppy's study, still fresh in the man's mind. She recoiled slightly as she felt his emotions full force, and when she recovered, her eyes fell on a set of keys laying on a table nearby. Without thinking, she grabbed them and made it to the door before hesitating for just a moment. She glanced at Peppy, felt a pang of regret, and ran out the door and after Fox.