I
The rocky planet of Macbeth was coming to the end of another successful day. Officers and overseers of the E-107 Arwing Production Facility prepared to shut the place down, while a cargo train, carrying the last shipment of ore from a nearby mine, chugged by in the dusky background.
"It's about time to close the doors," said Chief Overseer Brock to his assistant, dropping his cigar on the mesh catwalk and crushing it with his foot. "Shut down the machines."
"Yes, sir."
While the other walked away, Brock went to the docking bay, where he waited for the first shuttle to take him to the dormitories across the establishment. He hadn't waited more than five minutes, when through the airtight glass, he saw the shuttle, slowly moving towards the airlock.
He never saw what hit him.
One moment, the shuttle was slowing to a stop in front of the airlock, and the next, the thing exploded, destroying the airlock and shattering the airtight windows, sending shards of metal and glass into Brock's flesh. He was literally thrown across the room, out into the main factory, where he hit his head against a metal pole. He fell like a dead fish, lying in a warm puddle of his own blood.
The factory was suddenly alive with activity. Workers, overseers and officers ran madly towards various emergency units, while sirens shrieked and a monotonous voice said, "Warning: Airlock failed. Ventilation contamination imminent. Warning…"
The assistant came rushing to Brock's aid, helping him to his feet and placing an oxygen mask over his mouth. The assistant shouted something, but Brock was so dazed, and the sirens were so loud, he heard nothing but a faint mumble. The assistant dragged Brock towards an emergency chamber, where several others were waiting.
But his efforts were futile. Another bomb was dropped, falling through the skylights and landing on the center of the production line. None survived.
In the skies above, a cold, helmeted face looked down at the smoldering remains of the E-107 Arwing Production Facility. "Target successfully destroyed," he radioed to his superiors. "Beginning feint attack."
Thus, the interceptors, frigates, and occasional bombers began an attack not designed to destroy, but to alarm. Those in the establishment below ran like frenzied ants, avoiding bombs and laser blasts that weren't aimed at them. The attack force had its orders: not to leave until the Cornerian military arrived.
II
Fox McCloud awoke to his face being warmed by the early morning sunlight streaming in through the window. He opened his left eye, only to shut it again quickly. He stretched and yawned, and then nearly fell out of bed at the touch of fur beside him. He had forgotten how the Star Fox team, including Krystal, had met an unfortunate event the night before. In fact, he thought with a grin, he had almost forgotten how the night had ended.
Fox wrapped himself in a robe and walked over to window. Outside was Corneria City, painted red with the light of dawn. Bright rays of light streamed from cracks between buildings, ending at a bright orb just above the mountains. He casually looked to the left, where he could just barely see part of his own penthouse, and even the landing…
"Whoa!" he cried aloud. He went to the bed and rubbed Krystal's shoulder. She sat up groggily and stared at him. If it wasn't for his excitement, Fox would have laughed at the sight of her; he was sure, now, that she wasn't a morning person.
"What is it?" Krystal mumbled.
"Your birthday's come early!" Fox said with a laugh.
Krystal frowned at him. "What?" she said.
"C'mon!"
He took her by the hand and led her out of the bedroom. At the door of the penthouse, an expected knock came. After waking the others, Fox opened the door to Pepper's boastful figure.
"Good news," Pepper said to Fox. Behind him, Alec, Slippy and Falco, dressed in pajamas, a bathrobe and street clothes respectively, looked curious and excited.
"You got the Arwings," Fox said.
"Yes," Pepper said. He looked disappointed, as if he wanted to say the magic words. "Well, c'mon, let's have a look!"
Up close, they were even more magnificent. Fox must've walked three complete circles around each one, letting his eyes feast on the vast number of improvements done since the last time he'd flown in one.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Pepper said proudly, "I give you: the 'R-Wing DS-5000 v. 9.12! Capable of traveling 0.2 past lightspeed, making a transport almost unnecessary I might add, this is the fastest Arwing ever made. Even so, it has controls so responsive, it might as well be wired to your brain!
"Its firepower is really something, too. Twin hyper beams come standard with this baby, and it can hold up to three times as many Nova Bombs. Its shields are much more powerful than before, withstanding up to forty thousand degrees Fahrenheit. It even has a basic self-repair, making your Great Fox completely obsolete. And don't worry, Slippy. This thing is completely customizable."
Slippy jumped happily. Krystal smiled contently. Alec yawned, apparently still asleep. But Falco didn't react. He just stood with his arms folded, looking at the new Arwings disinterestedly.
"You got all this for us?" Krystal said, putting her hands to her chest.
Pepper shrugged. "You might be surprised to hear this," he said, "But these aren't really… how should I put this… unique. Each and every Arwing being produced at this moment is just as good as these."
Krystal seemed to be disappointed by this. "Oh," she said. "Well, it's the thought that counts."
"Don't worry," Slippy said, folding his arms. "Once I'm done with them, those other Arwings won't even be remotely good in comparison."
This satisfied Krystal. Pepper turned to Falco. "Well?" he said. "I'd like to hear the opinion of Star Fox's leader."
"Oh yeah," Falco said. "You said it yourself: they're really something. 100, completely soul-free." He turned and went back into the penthouse, slamming the door behind him.
"What's gotten into Falco?" Slippy wondered.
"I dunno," Fox said with a frown. "I never thought he got emotionally attached to our old Arwings."
Pepper's communication device beeped. With a silent apology, he walked to the other end of the landing, switched on the device, and listened.
Fox looked at Krystal. "You don't think that, ah, it's possible that… I… could fly one of these?"
"Of course it's possible!" Krystal exclaimed. "Just don't send it flying into the ground."
Fox laughed, and began to climb the stairs into the cockpit. But he hadn't gotten his foot on the second step when Pepper returned.
"Get dressed, Fox," Pepper said. His face was grim. "Something's happened and they need us down at headquarters."
III
When Fox and Pepper got down to the War Room of the military headquarters, chaos was ensuing. People ran about, chattering excitedly, shouting orders into comm. devices, and typing commands into computer consoles. Fox was still confused, but the atmosphere of the war room was good enough evidence of what was going on.
"You mind giving me some details, now that we're here?" Fox shouted, speaking loud enough for Pepper to hear him.
Pepper looked at him, but kept walking. "Macbeth," he said. "At 4:30 A.M. Standard Cornerian Time, or 7:00 P.M. Macbethan Central Time, a fleet of unknown ships from an unknown location began attacking an establishment on Macbeth. So far, they've destroyed the E-107 Arwing Production Facility and several shuttles. Casualties are mounting, but unknown. For two hours the bombardments have been nonstop, and they require military support."
"Strange that a planet which produces military equipment would need military support," Fox said under his breath.
"There are very few military units present to use them," Pepper said. "And the last thing we want is a bunch of panicky civilians running around with live ammunition." Fox blushed, forgetting how good the hound's hearing was.
A frog came running up to Fox and stopped him. It was Commodore Jerry Python. Fox glanced at Pepper, but he was already engulfed in the masses of alarmed officers.
"Sir!" Jerry shouted. "My fleet is ready. Do I have your orders to make for Macbeth?"
Fox thought about it for a moment. The Navy was still small and primitive, as it hadn't had much of a chance to bulk up since the Senate voted in approval of it. He looked at a computer console across the room, where a monitor showed a frightened raccoon, standing inside a radio tower on Macbeth, speaking wildly into a radio while bombs exploded in the background.
"Yes," he said. "And pass my order on to the other commanders."
"Yes, sir!"
With a stiff salute, Jerry departed. Fox turned and joined Pepper, engaged in a high-energy conversation with several officers and technicians. Fox found that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pick up more than a few phrases from one particular conversation in the room.
"Can we find out how many casualties there've been?"
"Not at the moment, sir. We're getting some robots to estimate…"
"Where the hell's the army? Macbeth needs…"
"Dispatch all air force units! I want Katina empty within an hour!"
"How long have they been attacking?"
"Damn it, I want to know who these guys are!"
"Macbeth's defense system managed to bring one of the fighters down. They're going to conduct a DNA test on the pilot as soon as…"
Fox's ears perked up at this particular piece of information.
It doesn't prove a thing. I'm sure there are thousands of scumbags out there who wear eye patches.
"That's it!" Fox exclaimed. His words were lost in the uproar as soon as he said them. Fox approached Pepper, who was frantically leafing through pages of printouts. Pepper tossed the readouts at the technician with disgust, and turned to Fox.
"What is it?" Pepper said.
"I know how to prove that the eye patch belongs to Wolf O'Donnell!" Fox cried. "All we need…"
"What!" Pepper shouted angrily. "Fox, this is not the time!"
"Hear me out, Pepper. Now, look. Two major catastrophes have occurred within twenty-four hours. I'd bet my house and my health they're related."
Pepper nodded thoughtfully. "Maybe," he said. "All right, I'll get you a list of the best scientists in Lylat who can help you. But once you have it, I want you to leave me alone until this mess is sorted out! And make sure you send as many naval units as possible to Macbeth!"
"They're already on their way," Fox said, but Pepper was gone. Fox saw him typing away at a distant computer console. When he returned, he handed him a list of thirty or so scientists.
"There," Pepper said, turning away. "Now, go!"
Fox hurried out of the War Room. Once the heavy doors clicked shut behind him, and he was alone in the corridor, the contrast startled him. Because the War Room was soundproofed, the corridor was deathly silent. He could actually hear his own heartbeat.
Fox scanned the list as he made his way to the elevator. He was unfamiliar with most of the names. He figured it was probably because these were people twenty years younger than him, and so he had no way of knowing…
When his eyes reached the bottom of the list, he stopped. There was one name he knew. One he knew very well, in fact. It was a long ways away, but he felt the trip was worth it.
"Katina, here I come."
IV
It was noon on Katina. The graduating cadets were spending their final days at the academy with ease, and were probably in the middle of a two-hour lunch at the mess hall. Most of the undergraduates were gone, eager to start spending their summer vacation.
But four cadets, three of them graduates and one of them an undergrad, were not enjoying the start of their summer. Tom McCloud, Alyssa Darien, Tiger Dreggar and Bobo Simon were crouched in the main landing platform of the academy, scrubbing away at oil stains and skid marks with their toothbrushes. It was now day three of their punishment, and they had hardly made a change in the platform's appearance.
"This sucks," Tiger grumbled. "I should be scuba diving on Aquas right now, not slaving away on lousy concrete!"
"Be glad Tank didn't just expel us," Tom pointed out, as he dipped his toothbrush in a bucket of solvent and continued scrubbing. "After spending four years here at the academy, being expelled on the day of graduation would truly suck."
Tiger didn't respond. He just kept scrubbing.
"What I don't understand," Bobo said, "is how in the world they figured out I was in on the prank. You guys didn't rat me out, did you?"
"For the last time, Bobo. No!" Tiger yelled.
"Easy, Tiger," Tom said. Then, to Bobo, "Someone probably saw you in the trees, kid."
No one spoke for about twenty minutes. Then, as Tom sat up and stretched his arms and his back, Alyssa cleared her throat and prepared to speak.
"Listen, Tom," she said. "I'm sorry for screwing up our prank. And… I'm sorry for freaking out like that."
"It happens," Tom said. He smiled. "It wasn't a very well thought-out prank, anyway. Hell, we could have just as easily shot Tank and fried him to a crisp."
"Now, that's what I'm talking about!" Tiger shouted, standing up and grinning. "Although I'm not sure twenty years in a military prison would be worth it."
Tom chuckled. Then, perking up his ears, he said, "Do you hear that?"
It was the sound of a roaring engine in the distance. All four turned their eyes to the sky, where in the east, a single transport was coming in full speed. They watched as it circled the landing platform, cut its sublight engines and lowered to the ground on four repulsorlifts.
"Wonder who that could be?" Alyssa said aloud.
"Do you think it has something to do with all those ships that left the base an hour ago?" Bobo asked. No one answered his question, or even acknowledged it. They all stared.
The repulsorlifts fizzled out with one last burst of steam. Moments later, the front hatch opened, and the sole occupant of the transport walked down the metal stairs. It was Fox McCloud.
"Oh, crap," Tom muttered.
Fox approached the four cadets with a quizzical look on his face. "What's going on here?" he asked.
"Hi, dad," Tom said, smiling the best false smile he could muster.
"Hi, Tom's dad," the other three said in unison, before quickly returning to their work.
"I asked you a question," Fox said, putting his hands on his hips. "Well?"
Tom stood up. Even so, his father's stance was at least three inches taller than his. "Let me just say it was a prank gone wrong," Tom said.
"A prank?" Fox frowned.
"Involving Arwings," Tom said. He cursed himself for saying too much.
Fox rolled his eyes and slapped his forehead. "Tom, how many times have I told you?" he cried. "Arwings are not toys. No matter how good you may think you are at flying them, they are still basically large, flying guns. Killing machines. Could you live with yourself knowing that you killed someone during a stupid…"
"Please, dad," Tom said, cringing as the memories of Alyssa's dying ship flying into the ground resurfaced. "Tank already gave us this speech. And believe me, he can make an impact better than you ever could."
"It's true!" Bobo piped up. Alyssa elbowed him, and he bent down and scrubbed the concrete harder than ever.
Fox began walking towards the main building. "I'll be back, Tom," he said. "In the meantime, pray that I cool off." He turned, and entered the side door.
V
Following the directions of the receptionist, Fox went up the elevator and walked down the third-floor corridor, until he reached the office door he needed. He rapped his knuckles on the solid wood door and waited, nervously kneading the bagged eye patch in his pocket.
Through the door, Fox heard a raspy voice quietly acknowledge his presence. "Come on in," it said.
Fox entered a nicely decorated office. On the polished wood walls were pictures of a young pilot and his friends on various planets, usually standing in front of an Arwing or a tourist attraction. In the center of the room was a large, oak desk, covered with papers and dust, decorated with a cup of pens and a metal label with the words "Professor Peppy Hare" etched on it. Fox looked at the front of the desk; there, a hunched figure sat writing with shaky hands on an old piece of parchment. When Fox entered the room, Peppy looked up at him, adjusted his glasses, and smiled.
"Oh, hello, James," the old hare said. Its voice was shaky and raspy, as if its vocal cords were as worn out as its hands. "I haven't seen you for a while, you know. Please, take a seat."
"I'm Fox. Fox McCloud."
"Eh?"
Peppy stood up, grabbing his cane as he did so. He hobbled over to Fox and put on a stronger set of spectacles, and with these on, squinted hard at Fox for a long time. Fox noticed bald patches on Peppy's head.
"Oh. Yes, yes, of course, Fox," Peppy said. He took off the spectacles and walked to the other side of the room, where he stared at the old pictures on his walls. "You and your father look so alike, you know. Sometimes this old head of mine gets…"
"James has been dead for almost thirty years," Fox said cautiously.
"Yes." Peppy sat wearily at his desk again, closed his eyes, and sighed. "Yes. I know."
Fox quickly changed the subject. "I, uh, was hoping you could help me with something," he said, taking out the bag with the patch inside. "Someone sabotaged the Great Fox yesterday. All we found at the scene was this…"
"Sabotage?" Peppy sat up suddenly, only to begin a coughing fit. When it had died down, Peppy cleared his throat and tried again. "Someone sabotaged the Great Fox? Was anyone hurt?"
Fox shifted his weight. "No," he said, "But I'm afraid the ship was destroyed."
"Oh. What a pity. I rather liked that ship, you know. Some of the best moments in my youth were spent…"
"Yes, I know how special that ship was to Star Fox," Fox said quickly. "So if you would help me, we can bring justice to whomever did it." Fox handed the eye patch to Peppy. "This was all that was found at the scene. We think it may belong to Wolf O'Donnell from Star Wolf, but I want you to conduct a DNA test to make sure."
"DNA test? On an eye patch? You damn idiot! It doesn't have DNA! It's an eye patch! A piece of dyed cloth!" Peppy slammed his fists on the desk and shook his head, exasperated.
Fox's mouth hung open. He stared at Peppy, shocked. When he spoke, he did so with a stutter. "Well, I… uh… thought you could find a hair, or some skin cells, or something…"
"Oh right," Peppy said. He chuckled. Fox frowned with worry. "I thought you meant… ah, forget it. Let me see that eye patch."
Peppy took the eye patch out of the bag and examined it. Then suddenly, inexplicably, he began to cry. He threw down the eye patch and laid his head on the desk, sobbing like a child.
"What is it?" Fox asked.
"Oh… look at me," Peppy groaned. "I'm an old, senile… worn-out… well, look at me! I tell you, Fox or James or whoever the hell you are, I was once a brilliant scientist and cunning pilot. The others always looked up to me… I was a natural leader… Now, look at me!"
Peppy got up and hobbled over to the pictures on the wall. "I'm a rotting shell of my former self, wasting his last breaths brewing over the 'good old days.'" Peppy hung his head. "I should have died, Fox. I should have died with your father on Venom, where at least I would have died with honor. People would have said, 'He died a hero, that Peppy did. Yes, sir.' Now, when I die, alone at this wretched desk, they'll say, 'So he died? Finally! I thought that old fart would live forever!'"
Fox was beginning to wish he hadn't come to Katina at all. Instead, he wished that he had gone to one of those younger, more knowledgeable scientists on Pepper's list, one who might actually help him.
"It won't be like that, Pep," Fox said. He only wished to calm the old hare down, but deep inside, he knew that what Peppy said was true, not only for Peppy, but also of every war hero. Fox began to fear that some day, the same would be true of him. "People will remember you as an excellent pilot and mentor. Those cadets leaving the academy will not have made it if it weren't for you."
Peppy turned to look at him, and smiled. "I suppose you're right," he said. "Maybe… heh… maybe they'll even begin to associate the name 'Star Fox' with my own!"
Fox laughed. "Now, about that eye patch," he said.
"Oh, yes," Peppy said, taking the patch. "Let's go to the labs downstairs. C'mon, let's go."
Peppy shut the door to his office and, leading Fox like a child, began tottering down to the laboratories.