Away across the galaxy, far removed from the commencing jubilations afforded to the Loyalists by the war's end, a single small cruiser hovered concealed within the rosy red rings of Titania. The name and serial number had been stripped from the flanks with ease, as though the illegal deed had been expertly performed, and there were no outward signs that this particular craft harbored any ill will for anyone.
An impatient and uneasy Pigma Dengar paced back and forth past his window, snarling at the sight of the second planets' distant surface and muttering violently beneath his breath. Under a very clever disguise he had learned the truth and survived to tell his fellow mercenaries of it--Andross was indeed dead, murdered in his own domain by Fox and Celestra. Just four days ago he had received a private transmission from Wolf telling him to meet with the others at an unused port high in the mountains of Fortuna; now here they were, prisoners in their own ship, waiting to be caught and convicted or die in the deep blackness of space.
Unable to stand the silence any longer Pigma set off stomping down the primary hallway, pausing outside of Andrew's room and glancing inside. Andross's nephew was asleep in a cot in the corner of his living quarters; he already seemed much thinner than he had three weeks ago, as if he was merely wasting away. With a snort of disgust he renewed his path toward the control room.
What was happening to the once proud, unbeatable mercenaries that comprised Star Wolf? They had changed, every one, in the short time that had passed since the end of the second Lylat War; Pigma himself was increasingly more hostile than he had ever been, and Andrew was rarely seen awake. What worried Pigma the most was the coup that seemed to have formed between Wolf and Leon; they almost never left the helm these days--even though they were not piloting the cruiser--and seemed very inclined to speaking together in low voices and hushing up whenever Pigma entered the room.
Everything seemed far too suspicious to Pigma, and he didn't like it at all.
Upon entering the control room Pigma found Wolf lounging in the captain's chair, his boots stacked up on the helm and his hands clasped behind his head in a relaxed pose. Leon was sitting cross-legged on the floor a few feet away, soundlessly meditating. Neither of them noticed Pigma leaning in the doorway, hoping to eavesdrop on any conversation they might have, and sure enough Wolf looked over at Leon and whispered, "You can tell he's getting restless."
Leon lazily opened his eyes, inhaling deeply to conclude his mental exercises, and murmured back, "Clearly he's considering betraying us, just as he did with James McCloud and Peppy Hare. We would do well to stay on a constant alert until he settles down."
Wolf ran a hand down his face, and Pigma felt his blood boil at the commentary--they were undoubtedly talking about him, and clearly they didn't trust him at all. "If we stay out here much longer, he'll go on a killing spree; if we try to go anywhere else, the Loyalists will imprison us in a second. What do we do next?"
"Just as I've been telling you, my old friend--we must wait until an outside opportunity presents itself. You know the Loyalists will become careless soon enough; they've been waiting with heavy hearts for the end of the war, and now that it's arrived they'll let down their guard." Leon stretched out his arms and rose, only to seat himself beside his mercenary leader. "As for Dengar . . . if he chooses to revolt, we will be more than a match for him."
With a growl Pigma leapt into the room, confronting his comrades and trembling with barely contained fury. They surveyed him with no trace of guilt, only a quiet understanding, and it only made him hate them more.
"You think it's over?" he accused menacingly. "Do you really think this is how I'll let things end?"
"Yes," said Leon simply, with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "And if you believe for a second that you can change that, you are sadly mistaken."
Pigma's eyes narrowed, glancing back and forth between the two, and his malevolent stare wordlessly promised vengeance.
"It's not over until I say it's over," he promised them, and he turned and stormed from the room.
Wolf and Leon exchanged an uneasy glance.