Chapter I
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Fox pulled his pillow over his head as the alarm went off. It had been a rotten night. Even though he was tired from the dogfight on Fortuna, he had tossed and turned in bed for almost two hours before falling asleep. The few bits of sleep he had gotten were restless, and he still felt tired. He reached out towards the wall blindly, feeling for the alarm clock by touch. He snapped it off and groaned, pressing his muzzle back into the mattress. Definitely time to sleep in.
Falco's voice came in over the intercom. "Hey Fox, rise and shine. We've got a meeting with General Pepper today at oh-nine-hundred."
Fox sighed. No rest for the weary. He pulled the pillow off of his head and sat up. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to get the sleepiness out of his eyes.
"Hey Fox, you alive in there?" shouted Falco over the ship's intercom again.
Fox grunted. "Yeah, just let me take a shower, okay?" He wrapped his arms around his head and cracked his neck to either side. Pausing only long enough to grab a clean towel from his closet, Fox trudged to the bathroom and treated himself to a bitterly cold shower. He shivered under the icy jets, but he endured it, letting it wake him up. He stepped out of the bathroom five minutes later, cold and wet but awakened from the experience. Fox wrapped a second towel around his shoulders as he returned to his room, rubbing himself to get some warmth back into his fur. He sat down on the bed, gently stripping the cold water out of his fur. Why could he never get a good night's sleep when he needed one?
"Come on, fuzzball! Get your tail in gear!" Falco yelled over the intercom. Fox's head jerked back up, and he looked at the clock. 8:30 already? Crap! He rubbed the damp towel over his head briskly to shake himself out of his reverie, making his fur stand out in all directions. He dressed quickly, grabbing his brush and pocketing it as he darted out the door. He paused in the galley long enough to snatch a piece of cold toast as he ran for his ship.
-
Fox was forced to fix his fur and eat his sparse breakfast while flying his Arwing towards Cornerian HQ for the meeting. He still felt tired and a bit grumpy, but at least he was presentable enough to meet with General Pepper when he got there. It had to be something important since he had insisted on a face to face meeting instead of just relaying orders over the communicator.
Fox's eyes were still a bit bloodshot when he led his team into General Pepper's office. Pepper was seated behind his desk, looking as official as ever. However, there was a stranger in the office with him. A graying timber wolf was seated in one of the chairs. The wolf stood up respectfully as the StarFox team entered.
"Ah, Fox. Glad you could make it," said the general. "I've decided to assign another member to your team." He gestured towards the wolf. "This is Father Ashe Rhinehardt, a former marine chaplain."
Ashe was quite changed from when Peppy had met him the previous night in the church. He now wore a long black trenchcoat over a black shirt and black pants. A pair of sunglasses was perched on the top of his head. Around his neck he wore a pair of dogtags and a silvery amulet of an equal armed cross. He smiled at Fox, and extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you."
Fox's brow shot up, and he looked back at General Pepper. "What's this for, General? How come you're assigning us a new member out of the blue?" It was true that General Pepper did have some degree of control over the membership of the team as long as they were under a military contract, but he had never used that authority until now.
"Peppy recommended him very highly, Fox," Pepper replied.
Fox looked back over at Peppy. Peppy smiled shyly. "We were in training together for a while," explained Peppy. "He really is good, and you said we needed more ground support."
Fox folded his arms in front of him, not very convinced. "Okay then, Padre. What are your qualifications?"
"I was a chaplain in the marines for twelve years," said Ashe. "I was second in my class in small arms marksmanship. I can use most heavy weapons, and I can set demolitions. I can fly a fighter passing well, and I'm an experienced hostage negotiator."
Falco interrupted him. "Hey, I think I know you. Weren't you that priest who gave a sermon with an assault rifle in your hand and shouted 'My name is Ashe Rhinehardt and I kick ass for the Lord'?"
Ashe gave an embarrassed smile. "Oh, that was a long time ago."
"It was last month," corrected Falco.
Slippy covered his mouth to stifle his giggle. Fox's brow shot up. "How did you find out about that?" asked Ashe. "Were you there?"
"Nah, I saw it on the news. I wouldn't be caught dead in a church. uh, no offense," replied Falco.
Ashe sighed softly. "None taken."
Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all. Even though Ashe was dressed like a mercenary and had the bearing of a military man, there was something in those soft, golden eyes of his. Those weren't the eyes of a soldier. There was compassion there, and a kind of gentleness that Fox hadn't seen in months. Wartime didn't leave much room for a caring soul. Fox felt his defenses begin to weaken under that gaze. Ashe smiled at him, and extended his hand again.
Fox reached out and shook the offered hand. "Welcome aboard, Ashe," he said with something less than enthusiasm.
Pepper smiled. "Well, now that we're all friends, let me give you your next assignment. We're going to take another shot on MacBeth. Namely, the Vault."
Fox turned back to Pepper. The Vault was the main base of operations on MacBeth. It had originally been a train depot until Andross had invaded and turned it into a fortress. It was the most heavily armed base on the planet. Twice StarFox had tried to take on the Vault, and twice they had been forced to retreat from the heavy firepower of the base. "Are we gonna get some ground support this time around?" asked Fox.
Pepper nodded. "We've got two units of mechanized infantry waiting on Katina. StarFox is going to draw as much fire as possible so we can blow a hole in the wall and slip in."
"Alright. When's the raid?" said Fox.
"On the day after tomorrow, at eighteen-hundred hours. Are there any questions?" No one spoke. Pepper nodded. "Very well. That will be all, gentlemen."
-
"Well, there she is," Ashe said as he gestured proudly to his ship. The team had returned to the base's hangar to grab their Arwings and return to the Great Fox.
Falco snorted. "A Guardian-class? Who still flies a Guardian-class nowadays?" Ashe's ship was indeed a Guardian-class fighter, a model that had been discontinued five years ago. Most Guardian-class fighters still in existence were training fighters used by the Cornerian Defense Academy. Ashe's ship was painted white, with gold trim around the flared wings that were the hallmark of the Guardian-class. The ship's name, 'Guardian Angel', was stenciled in silver just underneath the cockpit.
"Hey, we can't all have Arwings," said Ashe. "But this girl's got NTD plasma engines and a pair of H1 laser cannons. She's even got a nova bomb rack. It's not as fast as an Arwing, but it packs a pretty good punch."
"And that's the perfect touch," Slippy said with a giggle as he pointed out the bumper sticker on the back of the ship which read 'God is my co-pilot'.
Ashe stroked his fingers through his headfur, slipping his sunglasses back down in front of his eyes. "Kids." He turned back to his ship and fondly patted it on the wing. "No respect for us old timers."
The flight back to the Great Fox was an uneventful one, although it took a bit longer since they had to wait for Ashe's ship to catch up with the quicker Arwings. The five of them landed in the hangar of the Great Fox, and they all went up to the ship's lounge. "Home sweet home," said Fox as the turbolift doors opened.
The main crew deck of the Great Fox was one big open area. A wide, high- definition television set was pushed into one corner. Clustered around the TV were a black leather couch, an armchair, and a pair of beanbags. A low coffee table was placed in the center of the arrangement, upon which were scattered a few magazines. A stereo system was tucked nearby the TV. The ship's galley filled the other side of the room. The countertops were free of clutter, and the sink was clean. Ashe had a hunch that this was Peppy's handiwork. He knew how much of a clean freak Peppy could be. The floor was carpeted a light tan; an unusual feature in spaceships. Posters covered the walls.
Ashe shouldered his duffel bag as he stepped out of the turbolift, holding his suitcase in his opposite hand. "Make yourself at home," said Fox. "The training room, armory, and shooting range are all on the deck below. The quarters are up those stairs there, you can pick either of the two empty rooms. The bathroom's at the end of the hall. There's a fifteen minute time limit on showers before noon."
"Fair enough," replied Ashe. The team split up to do their separate things. Slippy sat down at the kitchen table and opened up his computer. Falco vaulted over the back of the couch and stretched out, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. He tucked one of the cigarettes into his beak and lit it. Peppy sat down in the armchair and picked up the book that he had left by the side of the chair.
Ashe frowned, settling his luggage down on the floor. He walked over to the couch where Falco was lying and quite calmly plucked the cigarette out of his beak. "These are bad for you," Ashe said in a very matter-of-fact tone, stubbing the cigarette out in an ashtray.
Falco leaned up on his elbow as he watched Ashe turn and pick up his luggage, walking up the stairs to the crew's quarters. "Oh, he's gonna be a load of laughs," Falco said. "But if he touches the beer, he's dead." He reached back into his pocket for another cigarette.
Fox sighed, rubbing his hand over the stripe of white fur that ran across the center of his head. He walked back to his room and kicked off his boots, flopping down on the bed without bothering to get undressed. Maybe he could catch up on some lost sleep. He buried his head underneath the pillow and closed his eyes. His arms dangled over the edge of the bed on either side.
. . . Crap.
-
-
Fox pulled his pillow over his head as the alarm went off. It had been a rotten night. Even though he was tired from the dogfight on Fortuna, he had tossed and turned in bed for almost two hours before falling asleep. The few bits of sleep he had gotten were restless, and he still felt tired. He reached out towards the wall blindly, feeling for the alarm clock by touch. He snapped it off and groaned, pressing his muzzle back into the mattress. Definitely time to sleep in.
Falco's voice came in over the intercom. "Hey Fox, rise and shine. We've got a meeting with General Pepper today at oh-nine-hundred."
Fox sighed. No rest for the weary. He pulled the pillow off of his head and sat up. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to get the sleepiness out of his eyes.
"Hey Fox, you alive in there?" shouted Falco over the ship's intercom again.
Fox grunted. "Yeah, just let me take a shower, okay?" He wrapped his arms around his head and cracked his neck to either side. Pausing only long enough to grab a clean towel from his closet, Fox trudged to the bathroom and treated himself to a bitterly cold shower. He shivered under the icy jets, but he endured it, letting it wake him up. He stepped out of the bathroom five minutes later, cold and wet but awakened from the experience. Fox wrapped a second towel around his shoulders as he returned to his room, rubbing himself to get some warmth back into his fur. He sat down on the bed, gently stripping the cold water out of his fur. Why could he never get a good night's sleep when he needed one?
"Come on, fuzzball! Get your tail in gear!" Falco yelled over the intercom. Fox's head jerked back up, and he looked at the clock. 8:30 already? Crap! He rubbed the damp towel over his head briskly to shake himself out of his reverie, making his fur stand out in all directions. He dressed quickly, grabbing his brush and pocketing it as he darted out the door. He paused in the galley long enough to snatch a piece of cold toast as he ran for his ship.
-
Fox was forced to fix his fur and eat his sparse breakfast while flying his Arwing towards Cornerian HQ for the meeting. He still felt tired and a bit grumpy, but at least he was presentable enough to meet with General Pepper when he got there. It had to be something important since he had insisted on a face to face meeting instead of just relaying orders over the communicator.
Fox's eyes were still a bit bloodshot when he led his team into General Pepper's office. Pepper was seated behind his desk, looking as official as ever. However, there was a stranger in the office with him. A graying timber wolf was seated in one of the chairs. The wolf stood up respectfully as the StarFox team entered.
"Ah, Fox. Glad you could make it," said the general. "I've decided to assign another member to your team." He gestured towards the wolf. "This is Father Ashe Rhinehardt, a former marine chaplain."
Ashe was quite changed from when Peppy had met him the previous night in the church. He now wore a long black trenchcoat over a black shirt and black pants. A pair of sunglasses was perched on the top of his head. Around his neck he wore a pair of dogtags and a silvery amulet of an equal armed cross. He smiled at Fox, and extended his hand. "Pleased to meet you."
Fox's brow shot up, and he looked back at General Pepper. "What's this for, General? How come you're assigning us a new member out of the blue?" It was true that General Pepper did have some degree of control over the membership of the team as long as they were under a military contract, but he had never used that authority until now.
"Peppy recommended him very highly, Fox," Pepper replied.
Fox looked back over at Peppy. Peppy smiled shyly. "We were in training together for a while," explained Peppy. "He really is good, and you said we needed more ground support."
Fox folded his arms in front of him, not very convinced. "Okay then, Padre. What are your qualifications?"
"I was a chaplain in the marines for twelve years," said Ashe. "I was second in my class in small arms marksmanship. I can use most heavy weapons, and I can set demolitions. I can fly a fighter passing well, and I'm an experienced hostage negotiator."
Falco interrupted him. "Hey, I think I know you. Weren't you that priest who gave a sermon with an assault rifle in your hand and shouted 'My name is Ashe Rhinehardt and I kick ass for the Lord'?"
Ashe gave an embarrassed smile. "Oh, that was a long time ago."
"It was last month," corrected Falco.
Slippy covered his mouth to stifle his giggle. Fox's brow shot up. "How did you find out about that?" asked Ashe. "Were you there?"
"Nah, I saw it on the news. I wouldn't be caught dead in a church. uh, no offense," replied Falco.
Ashe sighed softly. "None taken."
Maybe this wasn't going to be so bad after all. Even though Ashe was dressed like a mercenary and had the bearing of a military man, there was something in those soft, golden eyes of his. Those weren't the eyes of a soldier. There was compassion there, and a kind of gentleness that Fox hadn't seen in months. Wartime didn't leave much room for a caring soul. Fox felt his defenses begin to weaken under that gaze. Ashe smiled at him, and extended his hand again.
Fox reached out and shook the offered hand. "Welcome aboard, Ashe," he said with something less than enthusiasm.
Pepper smiled. "Well, now that we're all friends, let me give you your next assignment. We're going to take another shot on MacBeth. Namely, the Vault."
Fox turned back to Pepper. The Vault was the main base of operations on MacBeth. It had originally been a train depot until Andross had invaded and turned it into a fortress. It was the most heavily armed base on the planet. Twice StarFox had tried to take on the Vault, and twice they had been forced to retreat from the heavy firepower of the base. "Are we gonna get some ground support this time around?" asked Fox.
Pepper nodded. "We've got two units of mechanized infantry waiting on Katina. StarFox is going to draw as much fire as possible so we can blow a hole in the wall and slip in."
"Alright. When's the raid?" said Fox.
"On the day after tomorrow, at eighteen-hundred hours. Are there any questions?" No one spoke. Pepper nodded. "Very well. That will be all, gentlemen."
-
"Well, there she is," Ashe said as he gestured proudly to his ship. The team had returned to the base's hangar to grab their Arwings and return to the Great Fox.
Falco snorted. "A Guardian-class? Who still flies a Guardian-class nowadays?" Ashe's ship was indeed a Guardian-class fighter, a model that had been discontinued five years ago. Most Guardian-class fighters still in existence were training fighters used by the Cornerian Defense Academy. Ashe's ship was painted white, with gold trim around the flared wings that were the hallmark of the Guardian-class. The ship's name, 'Guardian Angel', was stenciled in silver just underneath the cockpit.
"Hey, we can't all have Arwings," said Ashe. "But this girl's got NTD plasma engines and a pair of H1 laser cannons. She's even got a nova bomb rack. It's not as fast as an Arwing, but it packs a pretty good punch."
"And that's the perfect touch," Slippy said with a giggle as he pointed out the bumper sticker on the back of the ship which read 'God is my co-pilot'.
Ashe stroked his fingers through his headfur, slipping his sunglasses back down in front of his eyes. "Kids." He turned back to his ship and fondly patted it on the wing. "No respect for us old timers."
The flight back to the Great Fox was an uneventful one, although it took a bit longer since they had to wait for Ashe's ship to catch up with the quicker Arwings. The five of them landed in the hangar of the Great Fox, and they all went up to the ship's lounge. "Home sweet home," said Fox as the turbolift doors opened.
The main crew deck of the Great Fox was one big open area. A wide, high- definition television set was pushed into one corner. Clustered around the TV were a black leather couch, an armchair, and a pair of beanbags. A low coffee table was placed in the center of the arrangement, upon which were scattered a few magazines. A stereo system was tucked nearby the TV. The ship's galley filled the other side of the room. The countertops were free of clutter, and the sink was clean. Ashe had a hunch that this was Peppy's handiwork. He knew how much of a clean freak Peppy could be. The floor was carpeted a light tan; an unusual feature in spaceships. Posters covered the walls.
Ashe shouldered his duffel bag as he stepped out of the turbolift, holding his suitcase in his opposite hand. "Make yourself at home," said Fox. "The training room, armory, and shooting range are all on the deck below. The quarters are up those stairs there, you can pick either of the two empty rooms. The bathroom's at the end of the hall. There's a fifteen minute time limit on showers before noon."
"Fair enough," replied Ashe. The team split up to do their separate things. Slippy sat down at the kitchen table and opened up his computer. Falco vaulted over the back of the couch and stretched out, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. He tucked one of the cigarettes into his beak and lit it. Peppy sat down in the armchair and picked up the book that he had left by the side of the chair.
Ashe frowned, settling his luggage down on the floor. He walked over to the couch where Falco was lying and quite calmly plucked the cigarette out of his beak. "These are bad for you," Ashe said in a very matter-of-fact tone, stubbing the cigarette out in an ashtray.
Falco leaned up on his elbow as he watched Ashe turn and pick up his luggage, walking up the stairs to the crew's quarters. "Oh, he's gonna be a load of laughs," Falco said. "But if he touches the beer, he's dead." He reached back into his pocket for another cigarette.
Fox sighed, rubbing his hand over the stripe of white fur that ran across the center of his head. He walked back to his room and kicked off his boots, flopping down on the bed without bothering to get undressed. Maybe he could catch up on some lost sleep. He buried his head underneath the pillow and closed his eyes. His arms dangled over the edge of the bed on either side.
. . . Crap.
-