Fox Hunt

Present Time - Quango System


Every breath that he exhaled turned to white vapour, as he was running up and down the cold corridors. All systems that were not essential or broken, were either turned off or down to save every ounce of energy that was possible, and that included the life support. But he didn't mind, especially since his winter fur had started growing out, his body clock tricked by the drop in temperature.

And it helped him keeping his mind clear, which he desperately needed. He used to be able to relax on his ship, but not this time. This mission was too personal. He was anxious and impatient to get to his destination, and he so wished he could have used the Orbital Gate to teleport himself and the ship. Even though the Great Fox was absolutely tearing through interstellar space, it was taking several weeks to get to the Quango system. Because of the time dilation, even more time would have passed on Corneria, bringing the planet closer to its destruction.

The very thought of that was driving Fox insane, and he kept himself busy to keep his mind off Corneria and Krystal. He spent hours in the gym, lifting weights, shadow boxing, rope skipping, punching bags, anything he could think of, and he ran for miles doing laps around the ship every day. He'd gone over his weapons and sorry few fighter planes a hundred times, doing whatever repairs and upgrades he could, including some of Slippy's simpler software tweaks. Apart from the experimental Arwing II-X he'd stolen, there was just one more working Arwing, and third that was in pieces, being robbed for spare parts.

He'd even started doing things he'd never done before, like cleaning up, not only his room and the living areas, but the flight deck too. A container of scrap was getting fuller by the day. He'd even opened an old crate of his father's stuff that he'd kept. In there, he'd found James' old electric guitar, a hundred year old Defender Star-Caster that James had picked up on a flea market. It was an ancient analogue thing, with simple enough technology, so Fox thought he could fix it himself. He'd spent hours on something that Slippy probably would have done in three minutes flat.

Worst was that he had never been so poorly prepared for a mission. Sure, the most essential repairs to the Great Fox had been performed in the Cornerian docks, but since no upcoming missions had been planned, he had not restocked with supplies and spare parts. He had literally just fled without even getting a chance to refuel. He always tried to stick to the rule of thirds on his missions: using one-third of the fuel on the way into, another third to get back, and the last third as reserve. But that had all gone out the window this time.

He'd tried to wheel and deal with the Ruffians to buy some fuel cells, only to find that Star Fox's accounts had been frozen. A bounty had been put on his head, which was a first for him, and the Ruffians had been most interested in it. All he could do was to run off into deep space, far enough so they couldn't be bothered chasing him.

He slowed down and panting hard walked onto the bridge.

"Are we nearly there yet?"

Oh, yes, with no one else to talk to, he was probably wearing poor old ROB's microphones down too.

"The Quango System is in view and I have started to pick up transmissions."

"Any luck with translations?"

"There were only five hundred and twelve words translated from Quango in the Lylat archives," said ROB. "But I have been correlate with scanned transmissions and identify another two thousand and counting."

"Good! Keep it up. I'm gonna need that translator."

Fox walked up to the windows at the back of the bridge and looked out. One of the very few advantages with this Great Fox over its predecessors, was that it had a very good rear view, which was handy since they were flying backwards. ROB had turned the ship around and was running the engines on full force to slow down from near light speed, so that it could enter an orbit around the system. The central star named Helios was close and bright enough to cast very faint shadows on the bridge, and Fox could just make out a couple of planets around the star.

"ROB, zoom in a bit, please," he requested. ROB turned on the holographic projector and showed some of the main features of the system. Among other things there was an arid desert planet close to the star, a gas giant with dense rings and a cold and icy planet in the outskirts. Then ROB showed a planet with a mix of colours and climate zones, yellow deserts, blue seas, green dense forest, and white snow capped mountain ranges.

"That is planet Kew," ROB confirmed, then zoomed in to maximum magnification, and an odd sight appeared. It wasn't a moon, shaped more like a flying saucer, like someone had taken a galactic sword and cut off a slice from another moon. Fox thought it looked like one of the pieces that had been breaking off from Sauria during the Plight all those years ago. He thought he could make out structures on it.

"What is that thing?"

"Inconclusive," responded ROB. "There are gravity anomalies I cannot account for. But I can detect a high concentration of communications and traffic of ships."

Well, that should be a good place to start, thought Fox.


Fox scratched the back of his head as he was walking towards the building with the domed glass roof. What a bizarre place! He likened where he had landed his Arwing to a giant parking lot for ships, floating in empty space. If the atmosphere and structures were held in place by a giant gravity diffusor, then it was certainly of an unknown type, since ROB's scans had picked up nothing.

He stepped through the sliding glass doors and at first liked what he saw. The large room was filled with people, huddled in groups over drinks around tables. There was tobacco smoke, the stench of sweat and scent of alcohol in the air. Loud conversations were punctuated by laughs at cracked jokes and growls from brewing brawls. The patrons were a rough looking bunch and there were creatures he'd never seen before, including the long tailed and scantily clad girls that were skipping around serving drinks and snacks. It looked like many a shady watering hole he'd been to.

This is great, he thought. If the place was full of scum and criminals, he was sure to find a bounty hunter. He started making his way around the room, making eye contact with anyone he could, trying to join in conversations all the while dropping the name Kursed and showing her hologram. But his enthusiasm quickly faded. There was a really hostile atmosphere in the place. "Mind your own business!" was the most common response closely followed by hands on holstered blasters. Fox knew when he'd overstayed a welcome, insofar as there even was one, so he made himself to the circular bar in the middle of the room instead.

"G'day, Mate! Welcome to the Primordial Pub" the old grey kangaroo behind the counter greeted Fox. "What can I get ya?"

Then he noticed how Fox was waiting for the wrist communicator to translate.

"Come from far away?"

"Yeah, I'm from the Lylat System," admitted Fox.

"Lylat, eh?" said the bartender and scratched his chin. But if he'd heard of Lylat, he didn't show.

"I'm afraid I haven't had the chance to exchange any credits yet," continued Fox.

"See that sign there," said the kangaroo and pointed with his thumb over his shoulder to a board with crude writing hanging on the wall. "Says no tabs."

"That's all right. I'm actually just looking for someone. Do you know of a bounty hunter called Kursed?" said Fox and turned on the hologram.

"What's this place look like?"

"A bar?"

"Too right! So I sell drinks, food and more drinks. Not information!"

This was hopeless, thought Fox. But he had the feeling that the pokerfaced barman knew more than he was letting on. He wished he had Krystal's powers. But she had always said there was something about Fox, and he had sensed something with Wolf. Maybe if he blanked out his own mind and concentrated, he thought, staring the barman in the eyes. The kangaroo stared back, neither of them blinking. Wasn't there something? A new sensation deep down in his brain?

"Am I wearing something of yours?" interrupted the bartender. No, there was no tingle of a telepathic, just imagination of an imbecile, thought Fox about himself.

"All right, but if you happen to come across her, I have a job for her," said Fox and decided to change tact. "I have a certain Cerinian problem, requiring her special skills. She'll understand and I'll pay well."

"With credits you haven't exchanged yet?"

Resigned Fox just held up his hands.

"I think it's time for you to hit the frog and toad," concluded the bartender.

"Hit the what?" said a stumped Fox, thinking about Slippy.

"Just some marsupial slang, which means hit the road!"

As Fox turned and started heading for the door, a strange looking simian wearing a black leather jacket, matching pants and black shades gave him a bump with a rock hard shoulder as he walked past.

"Excuse me?" said Fox, but the simian just kept walking. Fox's instincts kicked in. There was something odd. Maybe it was the lack of facial hair or the peculiar way the simian walked. It was too synchronised, nearly perfect. Then he realised that there had been a complete lack of scent from the simian, and it struck Fox: it could be a robot!

Suddenly the simian turned sideways, pulled out a gun and started firing at someone in the crowd. Without thinking Fox had pulled his own blaster, but the simian must have detected it, because it turned around and pointed its gun towards Fox. Bad move, thought Fox, fired a few shots and darted the nearest cover, which happened to be the bar counter. Glasses and bottles exploded around him as he leapt over the counter and landed behind it.

"STREWTH!" exclaimed the bartender, who was also taking cover with a terrified look on his face and a double-barrel shotgun in his hands. He popped up over the counter top, quickly took aim and fired two angry red blasts straight into the simians chest, but they did nothing apart from tearing up the leather jacket. Fox and the barman had to throw themselves sideways, as the simian fired back and perforated the bar.

Fox took his turn to stick his head up, fired two expertly aimed shots into the simians head, which had no effect apart from shattering the black shades and revealing a glowing red eye. Crouching low Fox dashed down the bar, as more blasts were sending wood splinters and glass shards flying around him. That thing must have a weak spot, he thought while reloading and dialling the blaster up to maximum strength. Then he threw himself over the counter and fired the whole clip straight into the things neck. Finally something had the desired effect, as the head dislodged, landed several metres away and with clanging and clattering rolled across the floor before finally coming to a stop. The body stood swaying for a few seconds before it tipped backwards, crushing a table in the fall.

The bar fell quiet and slowly patrons emerged from behind tables and stools and any place they had tried to find cover. Fox walked back to the counter to check on the bartender.

"So that's a strewth?" Fox asked.

"What? Oh, sorry! That was just my slang again," answered the kangaroo, visibly shaken. "That was a Quango Quantumatics Eliminator V-2. The company is trying to get into the bounty hunter market with those killer robots, but they have a reputation for being a bit error prone and going rogue. QQ isn't know for quality products."

"Well, I don't want to meet any more of them," said Fox. The bartender was eyeing off Fox's weapon.

"That's a little ripper!"

"What?"

"That's a neat blaster," translated the kangaroo. "Quite small though!"

"Yeah, but it packs a punch! And it has a quick switch between stun and kill," said Fox grabbed it by the barrel and handed it to the bartender. "Want to check it out? I might have a few spares."

"That would fit snugly in my daughters pouch, unless she decides to have another joey of course," said the kangaroo and inspected the weapon carefully. "My name's Bruce by the way!"

"I'm Fox."

"Ok, that figures," said Bruce and looked at Fox. "You'd need supplies after a long trip, wouldn't you? I'm sure I can make you a deal."


Fox flew backwards through the saloons doors and crash-landed in the dust and dirt outside. He just laid there fore a moment in the stifling heat of the arid desert planet, the relentless rays from Helios burning his skin, and flies buzzing about his face. Then he sat up very slowly and scratched the back of his neck, his head aching both from hitting the ground in the fall and from the cheap and nasty booze consumed earlier.

For ninety-five days he had been fruitlessly searching, hopping from planet to planet, city to city, and bar to bar. Mostly the response was a cold shoulder, sometimes it was a bit more ... intense! Today's experience was definitely one of the worst. He'd been sucked into a game of poker, hoping the conversations over cards and drinks would yield something, but he'd had little success in neither getting info nor winning credits, perhaps because of aforementioned alcohol. After he'd lost, the other players were less than impressed when he offered to pay in parts and ammunition instead of gold. What was their fascination with gold about anyway?

Anyway, it had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now he found that he could only see with one eye. The other was swollen and tender after being on the receiving end of a forceful haymaker. He wiped some blood from a split lip with the back of his hand, stood up gingerly and dusted himself off. He turned around and started walking back to his ship, past a row of mean looking black and chrome hover bikes, decorated with flames, skulls and the like. Suddenly he heard the saloon doors swinging behind him and he quickly dove down onto the ground between two bikes. Maybe he would be lucky to overhear something of interest, he thought, as the sound of crunching gravel under two pairs of heavy boots closed in.

"What a total nut job!" said one voice.

"Imagine wanting to find Kursed," replied the other. "She'd be the last person you'd want to see. Probably the last person you would see, actually!"

"Is she that bad?"

"Dude! She's absolutely fearless. She's the one who took down Tank!"

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, I heard she's a six-foot-six she-wolf, fast as a mongoose and built like a tigress. Lethal with guns but likes killing with her bare hands."

"So how do you get her on your payroll?"

"The right contacts! If you're not in the know, you won't know, you know."

"You know?"

"No!"

Fox nearly gave himself away laughing at the exaggerations. Then the riders fired up their surprisingly noisy engines, and the hover bikes were off in a cloud of dust, which settled into Fox where he was sitting on the ground. He smiled to himself as he conjured up a fond memory of a slender and stubborn girl lugging an over-sized gatling gun around Sauria. Where had that girl gone? Why had he done what he'd done to her? A tear trickled down his cheek, soaking up dust from the fur on its way.

For the second time he stood up and dusted himself off, then headed towards his Arwing parked by a hangar some distance away. His lungs burned with every breath of hot air. These were desperate times. He'd had to trade lots of weapons and parts for fuel and supplies. To start with he'd left the Great Fox in orbit around Kew, while he went planet-hopping in the Arwing. But not since the Great Fox had been robbed while he was away. He'd made it back just in time to save ROB and the ship, but the pirates had made off with precious fuel. The Great Fox's defences were too weak, so he couldn't leave it to ROB to protect it, but bringing the mothership along used even more fuel, and he'd had to sell his second last functioning Arwing to restock.

Now he only had the experimental Arwing II-X left and when he returned to it, a cheetah in jeans, sleeveless t-shirt, aviator shades and back-to-front cap was standing there eyeing it off.

"Nice wings!" the cheetah called out as he spotted Fox. "Fast?"

"Fast enough," confirmed Fox.

"Fancy a little race?" continued the cheetah, waving towards a speeder standing nearby. It looked very fast indeed, with smooth streamlined hull in jet black, delta wings and a pointy nosecone so bright it was like a mirror.

"Not interested," muttered Fox.

"My name's Vince! Vince Vitesse! I overheard in there that you're in need of some funds. There's this little thing next weekend called the Primordial Race. The winner gets a quarter million credits, in gold it you so prefer."

Gold again, thought Fox. Sure, it looked pretty and was useful in electronics, but still?

"I assume there's an entry fee and I've got no credits."

"That could be your ticket," said Vince with a wide grin and nodded towards the Arwing. "Plus I might know how to contact Kursed!"

That changed everything, to use an old cliche.

"Give me a minute. I've got some business to attend to," said Fox and walked around the corner of the hangar.

"Hey, ROB! Can you scan that speeder from up there?" he called over his wrist communicator, while pulling down his zipper fly with his other hand and starting to relieve himself.

"Negative! The distance is too far," answered ROB. "What's that noise?"

"Nothing! So there's no chance of figuring out how fast that thing is?"

"I can estimate based on other known ships and tracked flight paths in this system."

While ROB was calculating, a gust of wind went through and blew the flies out of Fox's ears, replacing them with more dust.

"There is a 93% probability that the Arwing is faster," announced ROB.

Well, desperate times call for desperate measures, thought Fox, finished what he was doing, pulled the zip up and adjusted himself.

"Finished marking your territory?" chuckled Vince when Fox returned. "So, what's it gonna be?"

"Bring it on!" said Fox and climbed into the cockpit.

"Good!" said Vince his face beaming while studying the Arwing one more time. "I can't wait to take my next prize for a spin."

Fox spooled up the engines and closed the canopy, still feeling a bit woozy. Slippy's homing mode seemed like a smart choice, so he touched a button on the auto-pilot panel. Good thing he'd upgraded the II-X with that, he thought, as the plane took off by itself.


Among all the crazy things he had done in his life, this was probably up there among the most stupid. Risking his Arwing, while not even going into battle? But the alternative was to run out of fuel cells and ending up a castaway on a huge piece of driftwood named the Great Fox.

Fox looked out the side windows. To the left was the moon slab where the Primordial Pub was, to the right a freighter turned pirate ship which made up the other end of the start and finish line, and around him waited Vince in his speeder and six more contestants. He'd checked his Arwing over several ties, and removed what could be easily removed like the smart bombs to make it lighter and faster. And he'd memorised the race map.

A green plasma torpedo shot out from the freighter, and that was the start signal. Fox punched it and the Arwing took off with a rate of acceleration that would have crushed his body, save for the gravity diffusor. The other ships must not have the same technology, thought Fox as he saw them fade away in his rear view monitor. But the thrill of going full throttle in space was way too short, since the first checkpoint was on the nearby planet Kew.

He dove down through the stratosphere and watched the familiar fireworks of flames from his glowing nosecone, as the Arwing was slowed down by the friction. To his despair several fireballs closed in from behind, and soon two speeders overtook him, including the black one belonging to Vince. The streamlined and delta winged speeders caused less drag, and the pointy and shiny nosecones were more efficient at dissipating the heat. While he was restricted to Mach 4 in the atmosphere, they must be doing Mach 6 or more.

The view of the planet was breathtaking, far more beautiful than the scrupulous denizens living on it deserved. In the middle of a sandy desert, there was a snow capped mountain range, dense forests clinging to its slopes, and with several towns at its feet. But Fox's focus was solely on his approach to the canyon they must traverse to cross the mountain range. The canyon he did enjoy though, since it reminded him of the mountains on Cornerian, and he could make full use of his piloting skills and the Arwings superior manoeuvrability to close the gap to the leaders.

Sonic booms ripped through the treetops like a tempest as the planes flew past in supersonic speed, approaching the first checkpoint named the Keyhole, which was a natural land bridge spanning the canyon. As they were about pass through it, Vince gave the other speeder a bump, knocking it into a cliff. Fox had to weave out the way for the explosion, and nearly missed the Keyhole himself. If that's the way you want to play it, thought Fox taking up the chase again, but then they had to climb back up through the atmosphere. Vince pulled ahead as the Arwing was struggling against the drag, and more speeders passed Fox, so he dropped down to fifth place.

The second checkpoint was the rings of the oval shaped gas giant Bulbous and out in open space the Arwing quickly gained on the leaders. As they approached the planet, with its bands of clouds glowing in colours of cyan and sulphur, Fox took the lead. They had to pass through the rings, and using the radars he found a suitable path. But just as he was about to pass through the rings, the radar alarm sounded. Instinctively Fox barrel rolled to avoid the laser blasts from the cheetah's speeder, but that mean he lost his line. To his dismay he did not end up in the thin layer of ice crystals usually found in planetary rings, but among large boulders flying about, knocking into each other, like a dense and boisterous asteroid field or a broken up moon. He had to swerve and weave like crazy, and while he made it through, he lost valuable time again and was down to third position.

Then the chase turned towards Helios itself and the third checkpoint named the Primordial. Fox was steadily gaining on the two speeders, but not fast enough. He lowered his visor to keep track of his opponents against the bright star light, and was desperately looking for the checkpoint. But he couldn't see anything and the radar wasn't picking up anything either, until a small dot appeared against the burning disc of Helios.

"Attention, Fox! That's a primordial black hole," called ROB.

"What the heck is that?"

"They are remnants from the high density and heterogeneous conditions after the Big Bang, after which particularly dense regions underwent gravitational collapse."

"Not helping!"

"It is a very small black hole," continued ROB. "But it still has an event horizon and can pull you in."

That didn't sound good, thought Fox, but maybe he could use it to his advantage to make a sharper turn and gain speed? He put himself a bit closer to the black hole than the line the two speeders were taking, and dialled back the G-diffusor, letting the black hole's gravity pull him in and gain speed. He went close and the Arwing commenced a tight turn, yet because of the warped time space he couldn't feel it. But it could see how the rays of light from Helios bent around the blackness, and even the nose of his ship seemed warped, or was that imagination.

At the apex he hit full power on the G-diffusor to free his ship from the black hole's grip, but it wasn't enough. He was too close! Desperately he diverted more power to the diffusor: 110%, 125%. He needed more! Suddenly he was free and the Primordial gave the Arwing an almighty slingshot, and he zoomed past the other speeders at ludicrous speed.

"OH, YEAH!" he cried out in triumph as he passed the finish line as a winner, and alarms went off in the cockpit. The G-diffusor was overheating, threatening to blow the ship up and Fox with it. Celebrations had to wait, while he was battling to stay alive.