Peppy had spent the day after Slippy's departure chasing the signal from the ownerless homing beacon, until he had finally eclipsed it, and discovered the meaningless nature of his pursuit. Slippy's ruse had left Peppy in a stupefied shock, where the sole words he could muster over the intercom had been stuttered utterances of disbelief.

"What the… Slippy's not… where's the ship?"

He's made his Arwing a ghost ship… he repeated silently, not fully understanding the situation himself. Back aboard the Great Fox, he remained a few long minutes in his Arwing, despondent, turning the phrase over in his mind, until his disbelief turned to outrage.

He marched towards the bridge, where Fox and Falco sat distractedly at their respective posts. They became acutely aware of Peppy as he burst through the door, the old rabbit cursing aloud.

"Hello to you too," Falco quipped, relaxing slightly in his chair. Although it registered clearly that he was the addressee of the current verbal assault, Falco didn't seem particularly offended by it. He rotated the seat to face Peppy, leaned his head back into folded wings, and propped his feet up on the low desk before him.

"On top of what he's already done to us, I can't believe he's stooped to tricking us now." Falco mused, eyeing the ceiling absently as he spoke. "We have one more day before the threat to Katina is confirmed neutralized. We don't have time to wait for him to cool off from his little temper tantrum and come back to us. And if he wants back, I guess we won't be finding him, either."

Peppy sauntered up to Falco, his normally buoyant gait now menacing and lumbering. He fixed his eyes on the bird, his slow, angry breaths now clearly audible.

"I have just about had it with you." He grabbed Falco by the sleeves of his jacket, bringing his face within inches of his own. "Don't you have any idea how serious this is? We may never see him again. I hope you'll be happy with that on your conscience."

Falco jumped indignantly to his feet, breaking his elder's grip. "Maybe you need a head check, gramps," he started, "because you can't seem to figure out that Slippy is responsible for his own actions. He has abandoned us," he gesticulated, "and his duty. So stop looking for someone to blame, and blame him, not me. I'm sure General Pepper will."

Falco brushed the creases where he'd been grabbed from his sleeves with a few brusque motions, and settled snugly back into his chair.

Fox had watched the whole scene unfold with quiet intrigue and anxiety. Relations between his two crewmates, who hadn't been on the best terms to begin with, had been strained to the breaking point by this current turn of events. He knew Peppy abhorred Falco's carefree attitude, and merely put up with him. He also knew Falco regarded Peppy as nothing more than a starchy, outdated, bumbling old fool. Fox, ever the mediator, had been the one to mitigate all past quarrels until the sense of amity was restored. Perhaps that patience and skill were what most showed the leader in him. But he now grew weary of confrontation's tired refrain, as a rise in temper was about to reflect.

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" he cried, fists clenched in fury. His would-be opposition was silenced.

"Listen to yourselves bicker. Do you forget who we are? We're Star Fox. We're the best, and we have no one else, and nowhere else, to go home to but each other. We need one another. And there was a time I thought we would always be together."

Fox paused, eyes downcast, then slumped limply back into his seat. He in a softer, more pleading tone, he continued.

"Can we put aside these petty grievances and admit that we all needed to do our part to keep Slippy here… and we all failed?"

Peppy and Falco remained mute at the proposition. Their eyes slowly and sternly met, and in them one could see the lingering contempt giving way to regret, and finally forgiveness.

They were a team once more.