Chapter Three: "Mission Control"
12 YEARS HAVE PASSED . . . .
"This is the Arwing Rage of Macbeth; location, south by southeast of Sector Y combat zone. Request audience with assassin Bill Grey; location, Katina."
The G-Diffuser visual screen shimmered with a faint blue light before the handsome twenty-two-year-old face of Bill Grey appeared. It was exceptionally early in the morning for poor Bill; he was accustomed to accomplishing missions in the deepest hours of night and snoozing the daylight hours away whenever possible. Upon recognizing the inquirer, his deep red-brown pupils took on a much different light, caught somewhere between amusement and disappointment. He yawned wide, stretched, and succeeded in changing his displeasure into words.
"Why do you always leave without sayin' good-bye first?"
At first he got no real response; the person to whom he was speaking seemed to be calculating the distance and time to their destination.
"Celest? Did ya call me to ignore me?"
Assassin Celestra Marquette, nineteen years of age, managed a steely grin and tightened the band of her long black ponytail. "I got called away on business. Things are easier this way."
Bill crossed his muscular arms defiantly across his bare chest (her transmission had only just awoken him) and snorted derisively. "For who? For me or for you?"
Celestra waved a deceivingly delicate hand in dismissal. "For both of us. I've worked alone since age thirteen; I don't have the time nor the patience for a partner, and you need to sleep sometime."
"I assume you called me for a better reason than to explain your many excuses for leavin' again?"
Numerous numbers and tactical coordinates flashed upon the main vid-screen of the Arwing; Celestra would meet no unwanted visitors for the remainder of her journey and would arrive in less than two hours. "I called to give you a run-down of my newest job."
"Ooh, this should be interestin'." Bill sat back comfortably and smiled wide. "Right, give me the good news first, it's still pretty early."
"The good news is that I've been hand-selected by General Pepper for this particular mission, and he's willing to pay me a very handsome sum indeed."
Bill moaned in envy. "And the bad?"
"There's loads of bad; are you sure you want it all?" Celestra inquired.
Bill nodded. "Might as well hit me with it all at once while I'm feelin' brave."
"Okay, here goes. I'm on my way to Corneria for mission control, even though I'm already well-informed concerning the movements I need to take: I get to march all the way across Lylat so I can attack Andross head-on. Oh, and, um, apparently I'm not working alone."
The Katinan gasped in mock surprise, and Celestra scowled at him until he asked, "So who are you workin' with, then?"
"The four mercenaries of Star Fox."
Bill bit his lower lip to silence any shrewd comments. Pepper was asking a bit much for Celestra Marquette, of all people, to team up with anyone and accomplish anything. Secondly, the mission in question would undoubtedly be long, tedious, and highly dangerous; many of the planets of Lylat had become hostile since Andross's escape twelve years previous. Celestra was arguably the most deadly and skilled assassin in the entire galaxy, but even for her this assignment seemed unusually suicidal. "Interestin' enough. What's your ETA?"
Celestra shrugged and commanded her Arwing into autopilot mode; it was a straight run to Corneria from her current position. "An hour and forty minutes maximum." As an afterthought, she added, "You don't think I can handle it?"
Bill smiled warmly and even chuckled a bit. "You can handle damn near everythin', girl. You're just not the greatest with teammates. Gonna off your allies and the bad guys?"
"You can go to hell. See you soon, Grey."
"Take care, Marquette."
Bill's in-house G-Diffuser disconnected from Celestra's signal and the screen went blank. The male Katinan assassin absently wrestled into a t-shirt, contemplating what he had just heard.
Celest and Star Fox? It was an odd, questionable match, but undoubtedly ruthlessly effective, Bill decided. He wished he could get a piece of Andross as well, but he hadn't been hired and Katina housed a newly-ordained frontline base for the Cornerian army, in which he played a major role. How much time would pass before their paths crossed again? Six months? A year?
Bill escaped into the bedsheets of his room, deciding the problem could be solved after a long, undisturbed nap.
~~*~~
Twelve years had done nothing to quench the fires of revenge in the heart of Peppy Hare. The old hare's eyes still glimmered with the love of battle that had always been apparent on his face, and it only intensified when he and Pigma Dengar clashed in battle.
It had been a wild, uneasy ride for Peppy, who was once again a Star Fox mercenary. When Fox McCloud (now twenty-one years of age) had reached the age of fourteen, Peppy had petitioned for a new Star Fox squad to resurface, and after a drawn-out struggle had won the right to make Fox the commander. The pair of them had chosen two additional colleagues that each had something to offer and that they knew quite well. Slippy Toad was only thirteen, but already he could fly any Arwin with ease and was the most impressive technician Fox had ever seen. Their other member, Falco Lombardi, was as brash, sarcastic, and hard-headed at age twenty as he had been four years previous, but was arguably one of the greatest mercenaries in all of Lylat. The four had accomplished much together, holding to their friendship and unending trust, and were wanted by every Venomian in the galaxy. The four were hardly surprised, then, when General Pepper hired them to launch an all-our war against Andross. But they would be joined, Peppy knew, by the most skilled assassin the Lylat system had ever known: Celestra Marquette, who piloted the most Venomian-hated Arwing, Rage of Macbeth.
Peppy stared contemplatively out a window of Great Fox, Pepper's command ship, lost in his memories. He remembered vividly the day when he had rescued a young, innocent Celestra from innerspace, and wondered vaguely just how much she had changed. Fox knew well the heroic tales of Celestra's many exploits throughout Lylat, but how would the assassin cope working with others? It was widely known that the girl despised teamwork--she had all but isolated herself from everyone since the fall of Macbeth--but Peppy could not lie to himself; he missed her dearly, and couldn't wait to see her.
"Hey, Peppy!" came the unusually high-pitched voice of Slippy Toad. "Looks like your friend is going to be on time after all."
"I never doubted her," Peppy admitted, Cornerian accent thick as ever. "Can you give me her ETA?"
"Sure can," said Slippy, tinkering with the controls of his technical computer. "Fifteen minutes and closing fast." Slippy re-adjusted the red baseball cap atop his sleek green-skinned head, frog eyes boggling at the screen. "Are we going to like this girl, Peppy?"
Peppy sighed. "Falco won't; he doesn't care much for anybody too much like him, and if Celestra hasn't changed much she'll be proud and spiteful. She's used to working alone." "Talkin' about me again?"
Falco Lombardi was every bit of six feet tall or more; he had a very strong, confident air about him which only intensified in his dark eyes. He was very muscular, a by-product of his grueling work-out program, and had a lean, fit body covered in sleek, royal-blue and red feathers. The pride in his facial expressions and movements was wrought of a hundred, a thousand battles, all of which he had triumphed.
Peppy nodded and chuckled. "Yep. Sure am."
Falco scowled and took a seat, kicking his gray boots up on the ledge in front of him and leaning back comfortably. "You're lucky we're on the same side, old man."
All three shared a laugh at Peppy's expense, but it almost didn't sound natural and died away almost instantly.
Falco glanced out the rectangular window before him, surveying the not-so-distant planet of Corneria. The cheery blue surfaces of the planet and the cottony clouds were punctured every so often by minor explosions of blood-red and pink. His nerves prickled a bit at the thought of war, and he began, as he always did when he became anxious, to preen the feathers of his right shoulder. Slippy, likewise, was displaying signs of anticipation; his tongue was lolling lazily out of his mouth and he had turned his baseball cap backwards. Peppy said nothing, merely reached one hand up to the top of his head and fiddled with the fur of his left ear.
Their nervous habits were interrupted, though, as Star Fox commander Fox McCloud entered their designated meeting room with ROB, the high technician of Great Fox, on his heels. He was a stocky, well-toned brown fox with gentle yet alert brown eyes. His shoulders were broad, and his visage seemed ever-thoughtful, always focusing on the tasks upon him. As always when the companions looked upon him, their fears disappeared in an instant.
"ROB, I still need a scan of the eastern face of the planet," Fox was explaining as he haphazardly strapped a weapons belt about his waist. Then, looking excitedly around at his team, he remarked, "Glad you all could make it."
"Are you kidding?" Falco asked incredulously, leaning back in such a way that his seat rested only on its rear legs. "Do you think we'd miss the big shindig?"
"There's an image," came Slippy's voice as he monitored the scans of the four mercenary Arwings and checked for any complications at a corner console. "Falco at a big opry house, wearing a cowboy hat and jeans, trying and failing to two-step."
Fox and Peppy linked arms and pranced about the briefing room fow a few moments, humming a catchy country tune as Falco threw a two-liter of soda at Slippy's back. The room exploded into laughter, Falco even joining in at the end of it all, halted only when ROB summoned a holographic image of Rage of Macbeth and carefully surveyed its position.
"Miss Marquette should be with us momentarily," ROB stated monotonously. Peppy broke from Fox, practically sprinting for the window before Falco, who scowled at his now blocked view.
"ROB, I'm picking up an incoming transmission," Slippy put in, and the AI of the cruiser connected with signal. A raven-haired, pale blue-eyed teen with a firm, businesslike expression on her face stared at the mercenaries from the main visual screen.
"Great Fox Artificial Intelligence, this is Rage of Macbeth, requesting permission to dock aboard this vessel in t-minus two minutes and twenty-eight seconds," Celestra began, trying to focus wholly on the AI and not the four others behind him.
"Permission granted," the robot acknowledged. "Hangar eleven is open for your docking purposes."
"Over and out." The screen darkened.
"Cheery one, isn't she?" Falco remarked sarcastically. Peppy turned and fixed him with a look so foul that even the cocky avian paled under it.
"She's probably the best assassin for ten galaxies aside," Fox cut in hurriedly before Peppy could intervene, "and from what I've heard she does tend to be a bit--reclusive." Peppy turned his back on them all. "You would be too if you carried as heavy a burden as that child has for the past twelve years," he murmured under his breath.
~~*~~
Celestra lowered her Arwing cautiously into the eleventh hangar of Pepper's command ship, idly clipping her long mane of ebony hair up at the back of her neck and shutting the craft down with a combination of buttons. As she vaulted out of the cockpit and padded down the docking bay to the nearest corridor, a voice accosted her from a speaker nearby.
"If you will follow the corridor around to the left, you will find the briefing room at the end of the hall, Miss Marquette."
The calculating assassin did not even slow her confident stride at ROB's instructions; quite the contrary, she merely yawned and continued on her way, seemingly at ease. Her hard black knee-high combat boots clacked noisily down the passageway now, and such was the magic residing within them that they only announced the level of noise that Celestra telepathically bade them to. For the mercenary team, watching her approach closely on the visual screen in the center of the briefing room, the expression of calmness, even boredon, on the assassin's face was extremely unnerving.
Slippy clicked the screen off just in time as the assassin strode through the open door, casually dropping a knapsack to the floor and locking gazes with each of them in turn. It was a talent she applauded herself for, reading facial expressions, an it worked wonders for her this time: Peppy was delighted to see something of a daughter again, Slippy was skeptical and rather intimidated; Fox, though, displayed only a mild respect. Celestra's eyes settled at last upon Falco.
At first his expression seemed closed, unreadable, but she soon discovered that this wasn't so. Far from conceding any respect or fear, Falco's dark eyes only reflected his loathing and even what could have been hatred. They shared a long, simmering stare, full of intensity, brimming with negative feelings.
Fox swiftly cleared his throat.
"I think I speak for everyone when I say welcome, Celestra Marquette, to the Great Fox, the basis of all the comings and goings of our squad. My name is--"
"--Fox McCloud, Slippy Toad, Peppy Hare, and Falco Lombardi," Celestra cut in, pointing to each in turn. "I have heard much of the lot of you, commander, and I expect that we will not requite any introductions. I have been looking forward to this meeting."
Peppy's eyes brightened and Slippy visibly relaxed, but Falco's posture and gaze did not falter for even a second. He recognized the lie behind her indifferent facade.
"As have we all," Fox answered, coming forward to shake her hand, which she accepted with only a mild interest. Slippy greeted her with a neutral demeanor; Peppy, though, grinned and threw his arms about her as she stopped to return the embrace, even though her set visage changed not at all.
"Last time I saw you, you were a hell of a lot shorter," Peppy commented, and Celestra laughed briefly, gazing into the hare's bright eyes. "But look at you! Practically grown up, and an assassin to boot! You and Bill . . . I'll never forget it. The pair of you made quite the impressive little tag team during your years at the Academy--Pepper and I will never forget it. Impressive, of course--but rather demanding. You stole every spare second of our time with your countless antics! Ah . . . no matter. You and him have become everything you promised us you could be."
Celestra returned his embrace, but inwardly she wanted to hold him out to arms' length and strictly instruct him never to touch her again. As she released him, she turned and nearly plowed Falco over, who had risen silently from his chair and crossed the room. She marveled a bit at his stealth--not many could sneak up on Celestra Marquette, after all--and his agility for one so tall. He stared down at her from fully three inches her senior, but neither did she intimidate easily.
"Welcome aboard," he muttered, holding out a hand to her, which she took. They shook for quite some time, each struggling to penetrate the others' defenses, but to no avail.
Again, Fox cleared his throat.
"We're expecting mission control from the general soon," he informed her. "As you will be aboard Great Fox for a prolonged period of time, please consider it your home. ROB will show you your living quarters after we've been prepped for our first mission."
'Home?' Celestra questioned inwardly. 'Difficult. I've got about five seldom-used ones; this one shouldn't be much different.' Instead of voicing her sarcasm, Celestra merely nodded and, ignoring the other empty seats in front of the viewing screen, seated herself on the large windowsill. Fox glanced sidelong at Falco in an attempt to win his support, but the avian scowled, shook his head firmly, and re-seated himself, crossing his arms across his chest defiantly.
Barely a minute later, ROB announced that General Pepper was prepared for the briefing and had a transmission on standby. Fox accepted the com call, and the five space pilots turned their attention upon the viewing screen, which now reflected Pepper's eager face. "It's about time you arrived, Celestra," the general began. "I have already spoken with Bill this morning; I was under the impression that you had departed from Katina several hours ago."
The mercenaries glanced as one to the assassin, who shrugged in dismissal and also crossed her arms. "You seem to be under the impression of many things, sir," she remarked coolly. "The difference between your assumptions and the actual truth could probably fill several books. Oh, and I would very much appreciate it if you didn't monitor my movements so closely, general; I have little use for babysitters."
Fox's eyes widened, and Slippy whistled low under his breath. It wasn't every day that you heard someone contradict the general of the Cornerian army.
"I must be brief," Pepper began again; he understood well Celestra's objection of her pairing with Star Fox and had, in effect, expected her ridicule. "Even now the Metgiacon Department is surrendering to Venomian forces. We're counting on the five of you to launch the primary strike and re-acquire our main offensive base."
Fox and Celestra marked well the general's fleetin reference of the Megiacon Department. The chain of skyscrapers was government-affiliated and was Corneria's main supplief of technology and weaponry. Behind them, Pepy had booted up a pair of holographic display grids, one detailing the main offensive base for the army, and the other mapping out he entire Metgiacon empire.
"We're looking at roughly two hundred enemy craft already deep within the outer perimeter of Metgiacon," he explained, "and at least twice that moving into position around the base."
Falco leaned forward, interlocking his fingers calmly. "Piece of cake. We slip by Venomian intelligence, sneak into Metgiacon, bust out the heavy artillery, hit the base, save the day, and maybe hit the bar in time for happy hour."
Slippy ducked his head to stifle his laughter; Fox scowled fiercely at the pair of them. "It's never that easy, Lombardi," he pointed out, struggling to calm himself. "We'll have to split up for awhile; we don't have enough time to hit both places as a full force." The commander turned back to General Pepper. "Sir, with all due respect, I suggest you terminate this transmission and take refuge as soon as possible."
"Understood. We're counting on you." With that, Pepper was gone, leaving his hired group to ponder their first move.
Celestra moved to join Peppy at the holographic grids, enlargening the maps of Metgiacon. "Fox, I think your suggestion of sundering forces is a very crafty idea," she began. "If you look at the positions of the enemy, you'll notice that Metgiacon is in more immediate danger; Andross would expect us to aid them first. However--" Here she tapped the grid of the army base, pointing out the seemingly defensive posture of the enemy forces. "--Once we hit Metgiacon, the Venomians will likely close in around the base and force Pepper into a quick surrender."
Fox nodded, impressed at Celestra's insight. "We need a distraction of some kind. One that can allow us to get Pepper out of the base unseen."
"Exactly," the assassin confirmed, face still rather impassive. "I will infiltrate Metgiacon, but I'll need a technician."
Over at the Great Fox mainframe with ROB, Slippy put up a hand. "Then I'm your man. What do you need?"
Celestra held up a hand, retreating to the back of the room and collecting her knapsack. "I'll explain on the way. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I think I have yet an additional twelve minutes to be devoid of your presence." With that, she swept away down the hall, ROB at her heels. Fox scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"I already can't stand her," Falco admitted, now pacing the room and casting occasional glances out the window at Corneria.
"Me neither," Slippy agreed.
Fox glanced up at Peppy, but the hare's back was to him. That way, none of his colleagues could see his expression of disappointment.
12 YEARS HAVE PASSED . . . .
"This is the Arwing Rage of Macbeth; location, south by southeast of Sector Y combat zone. Request audience with assassin Bill Grey; location, Katina."
The G-Diffuser visual screen shimmered with a faint blue light before the handsome twenty-two-year-old face of Bill Grey appeared. It was exceptionally early in the morning for poor Bill; he was accustomed to accomplishing missions in the deepest hours of night and snoozing the daylight hours away whenever possible. Upon recognizing the inquirer, his deep red-brown pupils took on a much different light, caught somewhere between amusement and disappointment. He yawned wide, stretched, and succeeded in changing his displeasure into words.
"Why do you always leave without sayin' good-bye first?"
At first he got no real response; the person to whom he was speaking seemed to be calculating the distance and time to their destination.
"Celest? Did ya call me to ignore me?"
Assassin Celestra Marquette, nineteen years of age, managed a steely grin and tightened the band of her long black ponytail. "I got called away on business. Things are easier this way."
Bill crossed his muscular arms defiantly across his bare chest (her transmission had only just awoken him) and snorted derisively. "For who? For me or for you?"
Celestra waved a deceivingly delicate hand in dismissal. "For both of us. I've worked alone since age thirteen; I don't have the time nor the patience for a partner, and you need to sleep sometime."
"I assume you called me for a better reason than to explain your many excuses for leavin' again?"
Numerous numbers and tactical coordinates flashed upon the main vid-screen of the Arwing; Celestra would meet no unwanted visitors for the remainder of her journey and would arrive in less than two hours. "I called to give you a run-down of my newest job."
"Ooh, this should be interestin'." Bill sat back comfortably and smiled wide. "Right, give me the good news first, it's still pretty early."
"The good news is that I've been hand-selected by General Pepper for this particular mission, and he's willing to pay me a very handsome sum indeed."
Bill moaned in envy. "And the bad?"
"There's loads of bad; are you sure you want it all?" Celestra inquired.
Bill nodded. "Might as well hit me with it all at once while I'm feelin' brave."
"Okay, here goes. I'm on my way to Corneria for mission control, even though I'm already well-informed concerning the movements I need to take: I get to march all the way across Lylat so I can attack Andross head-on. Oh, and, um, apparently I'm not working alone."
The Katinan gasped in mock surprise, and Celestra scowled at him until he asked, "So who are you workin' with, then?"
"The four mercenaries of Star Fox."
Bill bit his lower lip to silence any shrewd comments. Pepper was asking a bit much for Celestra Marquette, of all people, to team up with anyone and accomplish anything. Secondly, the mission in question would undoubtedly be long, tedious, and highly dangerous; many of the planets of Lylat had become hostile since Andross's escape twelve years previous. Celestra was arguably the most deadly and skilled assassin in the entire galaxy, but even for her this assignment seemed unusually suicidal. "Interestin' enough. What's your ETA?"
Celestra shrugged and commanded her Arwing into autopilot mode; it was a straight run to Corneria from her current position. "An hour and forty minutes maximum." As an afterthought, she added, "You don't think I can handle it?"
Bill smiled warmly and even chuckled a bit. "You can handle damn near everythin', girl. You're just not the greatest with teammates. Gonna off your allies and the bad guys?"
"You can go to hell. See you soon, Grey."
"Take care, Marquette."
Bill's in-house G-Diffuser disconnected from Celestra's signal and the screen went blank. The male Katinan assassin absently wrestled into a t-shirt, contemplating what he had just heard.
Celest and Star Fox? It was an odd, questionable match, but undoubtedly ruthlessly effective, Bill decided. He wished he could get a piece of Andross as well, but he hadn't been hired and Katina housed a newly-ordained frontline base for the Cornerian army, in which he played a major role. How much time would pass before their paths crossed again? Six months? A year?
Bill escaped into the bedsheets of his room, deciding the problem could be solved after a long, undisturbed nap.
~~*~~
Twelve years had done nothing to quench the fires of revenge in the heart of Peppy Hare. The old hare's eyes still glimmered with the love of battle that had always been apparent on his face, and it only intensified when he and Pigma Dengar clashed in battle.
It had been a wild, uneasy ride for Peppy, who was once again a Star Fox mercenary. When Fox McCloud (now twenty-one years of age) had reached the age of fourteen, Peppy had petitioned for a new Star Fox squad to resurface, and after a drawn-out struggle had won the right to make Fox the commander. The pair of them had chosen two additional colleagues that each had something to offer and that they knew quite well. Slippy Toad was only thirteen, but already he could fly any Arwin with ease and was the most impressive technician Fox had ever seen. Their other member, Falco Lombardi, was as brash, sarcastic, and hard-headed at age twenty as he had been four years previous, but was arguably one of the greatest mercenaries in all of Lylat. The four had accomplished much together, holding to their friendship and unending trust, and were wanted by every Venomian in the galaxy. The four were hardly surprised, then, when General Pepper hired them to launch an all-our war against Andross. But they would be joined, Peppy knew, by the most skilled assassin the Lylat system had ever known: Celestra Marquette, who piloted the most Venomian-hated Arwing, Rage of Macbeth.
Peppy stared contemplatively out a window of Great Fox, Pepper's command ship, lost in his memories. He remembered vividly the day when he had rescued a young, innocent Celestra from innerspace, and wondered vaguely just how much she had changed. Fox knew well the heroic tales of Celestra's many exploits throughout Lylat, but how would the assassin cope working with others? It was widely known that the girl despised teamwork--she had all but isolated herself from everyone since the fall of Macbeth--but Peppy could not lie to himself; he missed her dearly, and couldn't wait to see her.
"Hey, Peppy!" came the unusually high-pitched voice of Slippy Toad. "Looks like your friend is going to be on time after all."
"I never doubted her," Peppy admitted, Cornerian accent thick as ever. "Can you give me her ETA?"
"Sure can," said Slippy, tinkering with the controls of his technical computer. "Fifteen minutes and closing fast." Slippy re-adjusted the red baseball cap atop his sleek green-skinned head, frog eyes boggling at the screen. "Are we going to like this girl, Peppy?"
Peppy sighed. "Falco won't; he doesn't care much for anybody too much like him, and if Celestra hasn't changed much she'll be proud and spiteful. She's used to working alone." "Talkin' about me again?"
Falco Lombardi was every bit of six feet tall or more; he had a very strong, confident air about him which only intensified in his dark eyes. He was very muscular, a by-product of his grueling work-out program, and had a lean, fit body covered in sleek, royal-blue and red feathers. The pride in his facial expressions and movements was wrought of a hundred, a thousand battles, all of which he had triumphed.
Peppy nodded and chuckled. "Yep. Sure am."
Falco scowled and took a seat, kicking his gray boots up on the ledge in front of him and leaning back comfortably. "You're lucky we're on the same side, old man."
All three shared a laugh at Peppy's expense, but it almost didn't sound natural and died away almost instantly.
Falco glanced out the rectangular window before him, surveying the not-so-distant planet of Corneria. The cheery blue surfaces of the planet and the cottony clouds were punctured every so often by minor explosions of blood-red and pink. His nerves prickled a bit at the thought of war, and he began, as he always did when he became anxious, to preen the feathers of his right shoulder. Slippy, likewise, was displaying signs of anticipation; his tongue was lolling lazily out of his mouth and he had turned his baseball cap backwards. Peppy said nothing, merely reached one hand up to the top of his head and fiddled with the fur of his left ear.
Their nervous habits were interrupted, though, as Star Fox commander Fox McCloud entered their designated meeting room with ROB, the high technician of Great Fox, on his heels. He was a stocky, well-toned brown fox with gentle yet alert brown eyes. His shoulders were broad, and his visage seemed ever-thoughtful, always focusing on the tasks upon him. As always when the companions looked upon him, their fears disappeared in an instant.
"ROB, I still need a scan of the eastern face of the planet," Fox was explaining as he haphazardly strapped a weapons belt about his waist. Then, looking excitedly around at his team, he remarked, "Glad you all could make it."
"Are you kidding?" Falco asked incredulously, leaning back in such a way that his seat rested only on its rear legs. "Do you think we'd miss the big shindig?"
"There's an image," came Slippy's voice as he monitored the scans of the four mercenary Arwings and checked for any complications at a corner console. "Falco at a big opry house, wearing a cowboy hat and jeans, trying and failing to two-step."
Fox and Peppy linked arms and pranced about the briefing room fow a few moments, humming a catchy country tune as Falco threw a two-liter of soda at Slippy's back. The room exploded into laughter, Falco even joining in at the end of it all, halted only when ROB summoned a holographic image of Rage of Macbeth and carefully surveyed its position.
"Miss Marquette should be with us momentarily," ROB stated monotonously. Peppy broke from Fox, practically sprinting for the window before Falco, who scowled at his now blocked view.
"ROB, I'm picking up an incoming transmission," Slippy put in, and the AI of the cruiser connected with signal. A raven-haired, pale blue-eyed teen with a firm, businesslike expression on her face stared at the mercenaries from the main visual screen.
"Great Fox Artificial Intelligence, this is Rage of Macbeth, requesting permission to dock aboard this vessel in t-minus two minutes and twenty-eight seconds," Celestra began, trying to focus wholly on the AI and not the four others behind him.
"Permission granted," the robot acknowledged. "Hangar eleven is open for your docking purposes."
"Over and out." The screen darkened.
"Cheery one, isn't she?" Falco remarked sarcastically. Peppy turned and fixed him with a look so foul that even the cocky avian paled under it.
"She's probably the best assassin for ten galaxies aside," Fox cut in hurriedly before Peppy could intervene, "and from what I've heard she does tend to be a bit--reclusive." Peppy turned his back on them all. "You would be too if you carried as heavy a burden as that child has for the past twelve years," he murmured under his breath.
~~*~~
Celestra lowered her Arwing cautiously into the eleventh hangar of Pepper's command ship, idly clipping her long mane of ebony hair up at the back of her neck and shutting the craft down with a combination of buttons. As she vaulted out of the cockpit and padded down the docking bay to the nearest corridor, a voice accosted her from a speaker nearby.
"If you will follow the corridor around to the left, you will find the briefing room at the end of the hall, Miss Marquette."
The calculating assassin did not even slow her confident stride at ROB's instructions; quite the contrary, she merely yawned and continued on her way, seemingly at ease. Her hard black knee-high combat boots clacked noisily down the passageway now, and such was the magic residing within them that they only announced the level of noise that Celestra telepathically bade them to. For the mercenary team, watching her approach closely on the visual screen in the center of the briefing room, the expression of calmness, even boredon, on the assassin's face was extremely unnerving.
Slippy clicked the screen off just in time as the assassin strode through the open door, casually dropping a knapsack to the floor and locking gazes with each of them in turn. It was a talent she applauded herself for, reading facial expressions, an it worked wonders for her this time: Peppy was delighted to see something of a daughter again, Slippy was skeptical and rather intimidated; Fox, though, displayed only a mild respect. Celestra's eyes settled at last upon Falco.
At first his expression seemed closed, unreadable, but she soon discovered that this wasn't so. Far from conceding any respect or fear, Falco's dark eyes only reflected his loathing and even what could have been hatred. They shared a long, simmering stare, full of intensity, brimming with negative feelings.
Fox swiftly cleared his throat.
"I think I speak for everyone when I say welcome, Celestra Marquette, to the Great Fox, the basis of all the comings and goings of our squad. My name is--"
"--Fox McCloud, Slippy Toad, Peppy Hare, and Falco Lombardi," Celestra cut in, pointing to each in turn. "I have heard much of the lot of you, commander, and I expect that we will not requite any introductions. I have been looking forward to this meeting."
Peppy's eyes brightened and Slippy visibly relaxed, but Falco's posture and gaze did not falter for even a second. He recognized the lie behind her indifferent facade.
"As have we all," Fox answered, coming forward to shake her hand, which she accepted with only a mild interest. Slippy greeted her with a neutral demeanor; Peppy, though, grinned and threw his arms about her as she stopped to return the embrace, even though her set visage changed not at all.
"Last time I saw you, you were a hell of a lot shorter," Peppy commented, and Celestra laughed briefly, gazing into the hare's bright eyes. "But look at you! Practically grown up, and an assassin to boot! You and Bill . . . I'll never forget it. The pair of you made quite the impressive little tag team during your years at the Academy--Pepper and I will never forget it. Impressive, of course--but rather demanding. You stole every spare second of our time with your countless antics! Ah . . . no matter. You and him have become everything you promised us you could be."
Celestra returned his embrace, but inwardly she wanted to hold him out to arms' length and strictly instruct him never to touch her again. As she released him, she turned and nearly plowed Falco over, who had risen silently from his chair and crossed the room. She marveled a bit at his stealth--not many could sneak up on Celestra Marquette, after all--and his agility for one so tall. He stared down at her from fully three inches her senior, but neither did she intimidate easily.
"Welcome aboard," he muttered, holding out a hand to her, which she took. They shook for quite some time, each struggling to penetrate the others' defenses, but to no avail.
Again, Fox cleared his throat.
"We're expecting mission control from the general soon," he informed her. "As you will be aboard Great Fox for a prolonged period of time, please consider it your home. ROB will show you your living quarters after we've been prepped for our first mission."
'Home?' Celestra questioned inwardly. 'Difficult. I've got about five seldom-used ones; this one shouldn't be much different.' Instead of voicing her sarcasm, Celestra merely nodded and, ignoring the other empty seats in front of the viewing screen, seated herself on the large windowsill. Fox glanced sidelong at Falco in an attempt to win his support, but the avian scowled, shook his head firmly, and re-seated himself, crossing his arms across his chest defiantly.
Barely a minute later, ROB announced that General Pepper was prepared for the briefing and had a transmission on standby. Fox accepted the com call, and the five space pilots turned their attention upon the viewing screen, which now reflected Pepper's eager face. "It's about time you arrived, Celestra," the general began. "I have already spoken with Bill this morning; I was under the impression that you had departed from Katina several hours ago."
The mercenaries glanced as one to the assassin, who shrugged in dismissal and also crossed her arms. "You seem to be under the impression of many things, sir," she remarked coolly. "The difference between your assumptions and the actual truth could probably fill several books. Oh, and I would very much appreciate it if you didn't monitor my movements so closely, general; I have little use for babysitters."
Fox's eyes widened, and Slippy whistled low under his breath. It wasn't every day that you heard someone contradict the general of the Cornerian army.
"I must be brief," Pepper began again; he understood well Celestra's objection of her pairing with Star Fox and had, in effect, expected her ridicule. "Even now the Metgiacon Department is surrendering to Venomian forces. We're counting on the five of you to launch the primary strike and re-acquire our main offensive base."
Fox and Celestra marked well the general's fleetin reference of the Megiacon Department. The chain of skyscrapers was government-affiliated and was Corneria's main supplief of technology and weaponry. Behind them, Pepy had booted up a pair of holographic display grids, one detailing the main offensive base for the army, and the other mapping out he entire Metgiacon empire.
"We're looking at roughly two hundred enemy craft already deep within the outer perimeter of Metgiacon," he explained, "and at least twice that moving into position around the base."
Falco leaned forward, interlocking his fingers calmly. "Piece of cake. We slip by Venomian intelligence, sneak into Metgiacon, bust out the heavy artillery, hit the base, save the day, and maybe hit the bar in time for happy hour."
Slippy ducked his head to stifle his laughter; Fox scowled fiercely at the pair of them. "It's never that easy, Lombardi," he pointed out, struggling to calm himself. "We'll have to split up for awhile; we don't have enough time to hit both places as a full force." The commander turned back to General Pepper. "Sir, with all due respect, I suggest you terminate this transmission and take refuge as soon as possible."
"Understood. We're counting on you." With that, Pepper was gone, leaving his hired group to ponder their first move.
Celestra moved to join Peppy at the holographic grids, enlargening the maps of Metgiacon. "Fox, I think your suggestion of sundering forces is a very crafty idea," she began. "If you look at the positions of the enemy, you'll notice that Metgiacon is in more immediate danger; Andross would expect us to aid them first. However--" Here she tapped the grid of the army base, pointing out the seemingly defensive posture of the enemy forces. "--Once we hit Metgiacon, the Venomians will likely close in around the base and force Pepper into a quick surrender."
Fox nodded, impressed at Celestra's insight. "We need a distraction of some kind. One that can allow us to get Pepper out of the base unseen."
"Exactly," the assassin confirmed, face still rather impassive. "I will infiltrate Metgiacon, but I'll need a technician."
Over at the Great Fox mainframe with ROB, Slippy put up a hand. "Then I'm your man. What do you need?"
Celestra held up a hand, retreating to the back of the room and collecting her knapsack. "I'll explain on the way. Now, if you'll all excuse me, I think I have yet an additional twelve minutes to be devoid of your presence." With that, she swept away down the hall, ROB at her heels. Fox scratched his chin thoughtfully.
"I already can't stand her," Falco admitted, now pacing the room and casting occasional glances out the window at Corneria.
"Me neither," Slippy agreed.
Fox glanced up at Peppy, but the hare's back was to him. That way, none of his colleagues could see his expression of disappointment.