Captain White of the Venomian flagship stalked about the command bridge of his giant ship, leaning over workers' shoulders to look at the computer screens they were monitoring. Each screen showed photographs taken by probe robots of the surface of each and every planet of the Lylat System, even of Solar. White frowned. They had been searching for four years since driving the Cornerian rebels off Fortuna, and still they had found nothing.

However, he thought with a dry sense of humor, the workers had become more motivated after seeing Lord Cain, Andross' lieutenant, personally kill dozens of other imperials as the punishment for failure. And when it came to Cain's obsessive search for Fox's McCloud, the armored tyrant was swift to dole out punishments.

White really didn't understand why the young commander was so special to the Dark Lord. He was just a boy who had happened to be lucky enough to destroy the Bolse defense satellite orbiting Venom. But the first time Cain heard the mention of the name "McCloud", he seemed to become sharply attentive and had immediately ordered for even more probes to search for the Cornerian rebellion and their base.

"Captain," said a monitor.

"What is it?" White asked, scratching his thin, white whiskers and moving closer to the computer screen. On it was a photograph taken from the surface of Fichina, showing a large, cylindrical power generator jutting out of the ice. It had been disguised with paint and clumps of snow, but the coverup was poor.

"What have you found?" questioned a raspy, demonic voice from White's side. The albino mouse turned to see Cain standing beside him, his fists planted on his hips. The captain smirked. Whenever there was mention of something happening considering the search, Cain was almost immediately there.

"This, Lord Cain. It appears to be a power generator," the monitor gulped, looking up at Cain.

Cain glared at the photograph from behind his black helmet for a few moments. "What planet is that?" he asked eventually.

"Fichina, sir."

Cain's breath hissed sharply out of the breathing filter in his helmet. "That's it," he declared. "That's where the rebels are hiding."

White frowned. "Are you sure, Cain? That could be long abandoned, or even belong to a band of pirates," he protested.

"That's the location of the rebel base, and if my instincts are correct, McCloud is with them," Cain said firmly. He turned to every monitor nearby. "Mass the fleet of the Andross Empire! Call in fifteen legions of troops, and set a course for the planet Fichina!" he barked.

Everyone in the command bridge hurried to their duties. No one wished to incur Cain's wrath.

***

If ROB were a living creature, he supposed he would be frozen to death by then. As it was, a thin layer of ice had built up on his metallic skin already, and he feared that if he didn't warm up indoors soon his wires and circuits would become damaged. After all, he wasn't built to survive in frigid temperatures such as those on the surface of Fichina.

ROB stood five meters outside the large hangar door of the rebel base, a small scanning satellite extended from his right wrist. He had grudgingly helped Falco repair the Eagle's Eye for a few hours, until he noticed that his master, Fox, hadn't returned to the hangar for hours. ROB left the Eagle with the excuse that he needed to oil his joints, and had begun scanning for any signs of heat that would match the size of Fox or his Lagnua mount. That had been over three hours ago, and almost half an hour earlier ROB had heard falco swearing and calling for ROB to get back and help him. ROB knew that Falco didn't know he was outdoors, and stayed out in the cold, continuing his scan.

Inside the hangar, Falco examined a group of thick, new cables on top of the Eagle. He had just plugged them in, using it to connect both laser turrets on the sides of the freight ship to a large, newly installed power cell.

"Okay, it looks good! Try it!" the blue bird called down to Slippy, who was sitting at the controls in the cockpit of the ship.

Slippy powered up the ship, made sure that the fuel supply was stable enough so that the engine wouldn't explode, and then opened up the ports that would allow energy through the cables and to the blaster turrets. Slippy was jolted forward in the pilot's seat by a loud explosion, and he could hear Falco yelling from the top of the ship.

"Ow! Dammit! Turn it off, Slippy! Turn it off!" Falco shouted, covering his face with his arms and leaping away from the cables, which were smoking and sparking crazily. There was a moment where the sparks died down, then they suddenly flared up again with renewed intensity. "What are you doing, I said turn it off!" Falco roared down into the cockpit, crawling to the edge of the ship and leaning down in front of the cockpit window.

"I'm trying, the switch is stuck!" Slippy shouted back, tugging on the lever with all his might. ON top of the Eagle, Falco had to roll to the side to avoid having his trousers catch fire from the sparks. Then the smoke drifted into a smoke alarm in the top of the hangar, and a loud siren began wailing.

Slippy grasped hold of the lever and pulled with all his might, placing both his feet on the control panel to help him. There was a loud spang! and Slippy tumbled backwards, the broken lever still held in his hands. "Oh, great," he muttered. But at least the sparks have stopped, he thought with relief.

A few minutes later, dozens of Cornerian rebels toting water spraying machines hurried into the hangar, looking for the supposed "fire". Falco explained what had happened and apologized. As the fire watch stormed out of the hangar, Falco looked around the hangar, frowning. Fox hasn't come back yet, he observed. He glanced towards the hangar door to see that it was getting dark outside. He also saw ROB shuffling towards him, wiping snow off of his broad metal shoulders.

"Captain Lombardi, may I speak with you?" asked ROB, looking up at Falco.

"Yeah, one minute," Falco said, spotting Krystal in the crowd of fire watchmen. He slid down the hull of the Eagle, cupped a hand over his beak, and shouted, "Krystal!"

Krystal heard his shout and turned to him, shrugging as if to say, "What?"

Falco tried to shout something to the blue vixen, but his voice was drowned out by the clatter of tools in the hangar and clomping of boots from the fire watchmen.

"Captain Lombardi..." ROB said slowly.

"Shut up a minute," Falco said. Once again he tried to shout to Krystal, but she didn't hear him. She began pushing towards him through the crowd.

"Captain Lombardi–"

"I said hang on!" Falco snapped. He turned to Krystal as she reached him.

"What?" she asked exasperatedly.

"Have you seen Fox?" asked Falco, frowning.

"Captain Lombardi– mgff!" ROB squeaked as Falco turned around and switched the vocal generator switch on the back of his neck to off.

Krystal shook her head. "No, I was coming to see if you'd seen him," she said, blinking.

ROB reached back and flipped his vocal generator back on. "I was just about to say," he said, "that I have been scanning the outdoors for Fox for the past few hours. I haven't picked any signs of heat up."

Falco scowled. "That isn't good," he muttered. He jerked his head up to look at a man with an electronic clipboard. "Deck officer!" he shouted. Then louder, "Deck officer! Hey, over here!"

The deck officer, a sandy-haired hedgehog, approached. "Yes, Captain Lombardi?" he asked.

"Do you have any record of Commander McCloud entering the hangar?" asked Krystal before Falco could speak.

The hedgehog checked his clipboard, then looked up. "No, ma'am, I'm sorry," he said.

Falco and Krystal frowned at each other. "Here, help Slippy repair the ship. I'm going to go check at the back entrance," Falco said, handing Krystal a wrench.

"What? But I don't know how to repair a ship!" Krystal blinked.

"Don't worry, Slippy'll teach you!" Falco called, hurrying out of the hangar. He jogged to his living quarters to put on his padded outdoor clothes, then hurried down the frigid tunnels of the base to the back entrance. When he reached the low-ceilinged cavern where the Lagnua beasts were tied up, Falco approached the man in charge of caring for them. "Has Commander McCloud checked into the base from this entrance?" he asked. He had no worries about the man not knowing who he or Fox was– both of them were well known heroes among the Cornerian rebels.

The man shook his head. "No sir, nobody has checked in for the past five hours," he said.

Falco gaped at the man in horror. "He's still out there," he said. "Get a couple snow speeders ready, we need to find him," he commanded the man.

"I can't sir, regulations state that no aircraft are allowed out of the base after five o'clock," said the man.

"Screw the regulations, a rebel commander is freezing out there!" shouted Falco angrily.

"I'm sorry captain, there's nothing I can do about that," said the man grimly.

"Oh yeah? Well there is something I can do about it," Falco snarled. He untied one of the Lagnua, zipped his thick overcoat up all the way, and secured his warm headgear over his crest feathers before jumping into the saddle of the snow beast.

The man gaped at Falco. "Sir, it's getting dark outside, the temperatures are going to drop below zero in a matter of minutes!" he cried.

"All the more reason to find Fox. Do me a favor and head back to the hangar, tell Krystal the vixen and Slippy Toad I went out to find Commander McCloud," Falco said casually, steadying his mount.

"You're Lagnua will freeze to death before you get ten miles away from here," warned the man.

"Then I guess I'll see you in hell," said Falco. He urged his Lagnua forward and dashed out of the base and into the frigid darkness of the Fichinan night.

***

Fox threw himself into the snow in exhaustion, groaning. It had been more than two hours since he had escaped from the cave of the Polera ice monster, and by then the cold had seeped through his padded coat, vest, overshirt, and fur. His joints were stiff, he couldn't bend his fingers, and every step he took was a painful struggle to stay on his feet. A long cut that the Polera's claws had left above Fox's right eye had frozen over, and Fox couldn't even feel his face anymore. He feared that frostbite had damaged some of his tissues beyond repair.

Fox gasped for breath, then immediately wished that he hadn't. The icy air rushed down his throat, stinging his esophagus like a million tiny needles. Fox coughed, his chest heaving. Somehow he had to stay alive, keep himself warm.

The base can't be more than eight miles. Come on, Fox. You run almost eight miles every day to stay in shape, Fox told himself. But deep down he knew it was hopeless. He was too exhausted and frozen to run, and by the time he had walked just two miles it would be long dark. Then the freezing temperatures would be more of a danger to him than any nocturnal ice creatures.

I have to try. I have to keep going, Fox urged himself. He struggled to his feet, wrapped both arms around his chest, and stumbled forward through the snow. He drew his coat tightly about him, his teeth chattering. During his escape from the cave he had lost both his hat and goggles, leaving most of his face totally exposed to the cold. Fox pulled his hood down low, reached into the collar of his coat, and brought the cloth face-guard over his muzzle in a feeble attempt to ward off the cold. It didn't work, and the frigid winds seemed to slice into any open crevice it could find, chilling Fox to the bone.

Fox blinked, his eyelids becoming heavy. Stay conscious. Stay warm Stay alive, he commanded himself. He took another two shaky steps, then collapsed face-first into the snow. He didn't know how long he lay there for. Was it seconds? Minutes? Hours, even? He had no clue, but when he awoke he felt a slow warmth creeping up his heels, into his ankles, and spreading through the rest of his body.

"Fox..." whispered a voice.

Fox lifted his head to find that he was covered in snow. He tried to shake it off, but couldn't move. He blinked through the grey haze of the evening to find where the voice was coming from.

"Fox," said the voice, "don't give up yet."Fox squinted through the falling snow to see a familiar figure. "Peppy?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.

Standing only two meters in front of him, unhindered by the freezing winds, stood Peppy Hare, veteran pilot of the Cornerian army. But that was impossible, Fox thought, frowning. Peppy died four years ago, sacrificing himself to the Dark Lord Cain so that Fox, Falco, and Krystal could escape from the Venomian flagship.

"You have a gift, Fox. You have it just as your father did," said Peppy.

"Had what? Peppy? What do I have?" Fox rasped.

"You will go to the planet Zoness," said Peppy, ignoring Fox's question. "There you will train under an exiled Cerinian survivor named Alagrin, who trained Cerinians to use their psychic powers and aided me during the rise of the Andross Empire.""Krystal is the only survivor..." Fox murmured, his eyelids drooping once more. Slowly, Peppy began to fade away from sight. Fox blinked. "Peppy... don't go," he said, trying to reach out to his old mentor. There was a moment where Peppy seemed to flicker back into view, but then disappeared altogether. "Peppy!" Fox tried to shout. The exclamation only came out as a strangled gasp, ad Fox fell back into the snow, unconcscious.

"Fox!" a voice shouted again.

Fox's eyelids fluttered open briefly, then closed again.

"Fox!" Falco cried once more, leaping off his Lagnua mount and sprinting through the snow to reach his friend. He hurriedly dug Fox out of the mound of snow piled on top of him, then rolled him over onto his back, trying to feel for a heartbeat. Falco grimaced, hoping that the reason he couldn't feel one was because of Fox's padded clothing. "Come on, Fox, don't do this. Show me you're alive, buddy, come on!" Falco cried, removing his right glove and feeling Fox's jugular vein for a pulse. To his relief, he felt one faintly.

"Come on, Fox. Just help me out here. I gotta get you up on this thing..." Falco grunted, trying to heave Fox out of the snow and onto the back of his Lagnua. Falco turned about as he heard a strangled wail, and blinked in horror when he saw his mount sway, then collapse into the snow. The man in the Lagnua stable was right– it had frozen to death.

"Shit," muttered Falco, dragging Fox over to the dead body of the Lagnua. No way to get back to base now. I'll have to build a shelter and wait for rescue speeders to find us tomorrow morning, Falco thought. He unhooked his equipment pack from the Lagnua's saddle and was about to begin working when Fox groaned from beside him.

"Peppy," the young fox groaned. "Peppy... Zoness... Alagrin..."

Falco gritted his teeth in frustration, realizing that Fox would soon die if he wasn't kept warm. Then, looking at the broad belly of the Lagnua, he had an idea. A slightly messy idea, but it would work.

Falco quickly unhooked Fox's energy sword from his belt and ignited it, then dragged the point of the blade up from the Lagnua's stomach to the base of its neck. He deactivated the weapon and replaced it in Fox's belt, then began removing the slippery entrails of the beast and tossing them into the snow.

"Sorry if this smells bad, Fox," Falco said apologetically. He lifted up one of the warm flaps of skin of the Lagnua's belly and rolled Fox inside the body of the empty creature. "But I have to keep you warm. At least until I can make us some shelter," he said. Falco sighed, slumping against the large animal carcass. "Phew!" he gasped, "and I thought these things smelled bad on the outside."

Adjusting his face-guard and goggles, pulling his coat close around him, and tugging his right glove back on, Falco removed the working tools from his supply bag and began the tedious job of building a snow shelter for the both of them.