Chapter 2:
After embarking from the tattered rogue encampments, the two walked down the metallic hallways of the flagship that Scales brought his special guest onto. Wolf did not know why he went aboard the ship. He never fully trusted anyone except for himself; his exile from Corneria had taught him much about survival. Yet, Wolf saw something in this "General Scales" - no, definitely not trust. He tried to read the reptilian's mind with his perceptive senses, the way he did with every stranger. The general was impenetrable. No, something else drew him aboard, despite the risks of being held hostage. Wolf could see the promise of power in those piercing slit pupils. There was no doubt that the general was not an ordinary pirate. His eyes burned with authority and power.
The two walked in silence, metal clinking beneath their boots. Several of the general's blaster-wielding escort tagged closely behind. They have agreed to start negotiations under the premises that no one would assume control over the other. Wolf laughed shrewdly. General Scales' sheer display of power was clearly a device for coercion. He wondered about the reptilian's intentions, and about the mysterious nature of their negotiation. What did "a common goal" mean? Overthrowing the Cornerian Federation? Most of all, why would the general know about Wolf's goals?
Soon, they passed a grand doorway leading to what seemed like a conference room. A bright light fell upon the large glass table lying in the middle a circle of wooden chairs. Darkness consumed the surroundings. Wolf noticed monitors in front of each chair. He walked up to one, a hard expression settling upon his stern features. Before his amber eyes, the scenes of Wolf's latest encounter with Fox rolled on, full with recordings of the transmissions he sent to his underlings.
"Well what are you waiting for? Attack him," Wolf's own voice rang and reverberated back at him eerily. The general strode and stood behind, watching keenly. Wolf folded his arms in front of his chest in an indignant manner and chuckled.
"Dirty, conniving baastard," he hissed, still staring at the screen.
"Ah, O'Donnell, do not come to any conclusions so quickly. I have my connections - legitimate connections, that is," Scales replied matter-of- factly, enjoying Wolf's surprised reactions.
"In fact," he continued, walking over to the keyboard to tap a button. "I am connected to someone you knew very well, yes..."
A hologram projected itself above the glass conference table. Wolf stared, gaping. He was rarely caught by surprise, but a surprise of such scale he was not prepared for. Before him, a holographic recording started to play. Andross stood next to Scales, donning his usual white lab coat. Behind the two, hundreds of bogies and imperial spacecrafts lay in neat rows, the black metallic plates shining under the pale light of the colossal shipyard. It appeared to be a military transaction of some sort.
"You see, I supplied the weapons and spacecraft for Emperor Andross. Yes, we knew each other well, very well,"
"What do you want from me?" Wolf asked, suddenly unsure of his own safety. He nervously stared at the escorts behind him, who, in turn, stared back at him impersonally.
"Do not panic, these are Andross' words: to carry on his dreams of retaliation against the Cornerian Federation. He advised me to take over his remaining forces if he could not make it. Alas, Andross is no more. I am only carrying out his last orders as his second-in-command."
"I only agreed to assist, not to serve."
"I am aware of that. You see, I have gathered the other pilots of the Starwolf team, along with others who are willing to join the cause. Eighty thousand men, including infantries and pilots, await my orders, while you can take command of the Starwolf team - just like the old days. The alliance is merely the gathering of those exiled by Corneria; we are all in the same position - a brotherhood in arms, so to speak."
"And where were you during the Lylat Wars? Most of all - what proof have you got?" Wolf inquired, hands secretly prepared to draw his knife from its sheath. His suspicion grew by the moment. Certainly, he had not heard Andross speak of him.
The general tapped another key on the keyboard. On the hologram projector, the familiar figures of Leon, Pigma, and Andrew crouched beside unfamiliar spacecrafts - one for each. The ships looked like Wolfen II ships, but not quite - they looked... newer.
"I've gathered them and assigned them to the newly upgraded Wolfen III's. And I was the one to order the construction of all past Wolfen models, if that is not proof enough," Scales spoke calmly.
Wolf closed his eyes and grinned in a sinister manner.
"Very well, you have my trust. Andross was right in leaving his will in the paws of such a competent, conniving general."
"You speak flatteringly of me. Now, there is no time to waste. The escorts shall show you the way to your wingmen and your new Wolfen ship. Then you may decide whether to accept the alliance for not. No hard feelings if you choose to decline."
With these words, the escorts offered the direction to Wolf. He followed, and General Scales was left in silence, alone in the conference room. Sitting down in front of a wall of monitors, the general laughed to himself, pale fangs flashing in the dark surroundings. He watched as Wolf walk down the corridor.
After embarking from the tattered rogue encampments, the two walked down the metallic hallways of the flagship that Scales brought his special guest onto. Wolf did not know why he went aboard the ship. He never fully trusted anyone except for himself; his exile from Corneria had taught him much about survival. Yet, Wolf saw something in this "General Scales" - no, definitely not trust. He tried to read the reptilian's mind with his perceptive senses, the way he did with every stranger. The general was impenetrable. No, something else drew him aboard, despite the risks of being held hostage. Wolf could see the promise of power in those piercing slit pupils. There was no doubt that the general was not an ordinary pirate. His eyes burned with authority and power.
The two walked in silence, metal clinking beneath their boots. Several of the general's blaster-wielding escort tagged closely behind. They have agreed to start negotiations under the premises that no one would assume control over the other. Wolf laughed shrewdly. General Scales' sheer display of power was clearly a device for coercion. He wondered about the reptilian's intentions, and about the mysterious nature of their negotiation. What did "a common goal" mean? Overthrowing the Cornerian Federation? Most of all, why would the general know about Wolf's goals?
Soon, they passed a grand doorway leading to what seemed like a conference room. A bright light fell upon the large glass table lying in the middle a circle of wooden chairs. Darkness consumed the surroundings. Wolf noticed monitors in front of each chair. He walked up to one, a hard expression settling upon his stern features. Before his amber eyes, the scenes of Wolf's latest encounter with Fox rolled on, full with recordings of the transmissions he sent to his underlings.
"Well what are you waiting for? Attack him," Wolf's own voice rang and reverberated back at him eerily. The general strode and stood behind, watching keenly. Wolf folded his arms in front of his chest in an indignant manner and chuckled.
"Dirty, conniving baastard," he hissed, still staring at the screen.
"Ah, O'Donnell, do not come to any conclusions so quickly. I have my connections - legitimate connections, that is," Scales replied matter-of- factly, enjoying Wolf's surprised reactions.
"In fact," he continued, walking over to the keyboard to tap a button. "I am connected to someone you knew very well, yes..."
A hologram projected itself above the glass conference table. Wolf stared, gaping. He was rarely caught by surprise, but a surprise of such scale he was not prepared for. Before him, a holographic recording started to play. Andross stood next to Scales, donning his usual white lab coat. Behind the two, hundreds of bogies and imperial spacecrafts lay in neat rows, the black metallic plates shining under the pale light of the colossal shipyard. It appeared to be a military transaction of some sort.
"You see, I supplied the weapons and spacecraft for Emperor Andross. Yes, we knew each other well, very well,"
"What do you want from me?" Wolf asked, suddenly unsure of his own safety. He nervously stared at the escorts behind him, who, in turn, stared back at him impersonally.
"Do not panic, these are Andross' words: to carry on his dreams of retaliation against the Cornerian Federation. He advised me to take over his remaining forces if he could not make it. Alas, Andross is no more. I am only carrying out his last orders as his second-in-command."
"I only agreed to assist, not to serve."
"I am aware of that. You see, I have gathered the other pilots of the Starwolf team, along with others who are willing to join the cause. Eighty thousand men, including infantries and pilots, await my orders, while you can take command of the Starwolf team - just like the old days. The alliance is merely the gathering of those exiled by Corneria; we are all in the same position - a brotherhood in arms, so to speak."
"And where were you during the Lylat Wars? Most of all - what proof have you got?" Wolf inquired, hands secretly prepared to draw his knife from its sheath. His suspicion grew by the moment. Certainly, he had not heard Andross speak of him.
The general tapped another key on the keyboard. On the hologram projector, the familiar figures of Leon, Pigma, and Andrew crouched beside unfamiliar spacecrafts - one for each. The ships looked like Wolfen II ships, but not quite - they looked... newer.
"I've gathered them and assigned them to the newly upgraded Wolfen III's. And I was the one to order the construction of all past Wolfen models, if that is not proof enough," Scales spoke calmly.
Wolf closed his eyes and grinned in a sinister manner.
"Very well, you have my trust. Andross was right in leaving his will in the paws of such a competent, conniving general."
"You speak flatteringly of me. Now, there is no time to waste. The escorts shall show you the way to your wingmen and your new Wolfen ship. Then you may decide whether to accept the alliance for not. No hard feelings if you choose to decline."
With these words, the escorts offered the direction to Wolf. He followed, and General Scales was left in silence, alone in the conference room. Sitting down in front of a wall of monitors, the general laughed to himself, pale fangs flashing in the dark surroundings. He watched as Wolf walk down the corridor.