The silence was deafening. For what seemed like an eternity, Fox stared at the container before him as if he had been turned to stone. Dead? How could his father be dead?! No, this was all a bad dream—it had to be! Any moment now, the morning call would come over the intercom at the barracks, he'd wake up in his bunk, and this insane nightmare would be washed away from his thoughts, drowned out by the blaring, patriotic marches. He closed his eyes and took a slow breath, willing himself with all his strength to awaken, but when he opened them again, the box was still before him, and he was still seated at the table across from Peppy. It wasn't a dream.
"How?" He managed at last, feeling numb all over.
"It was a textbook recon mission," Peppy said quietly. "With all the increased activity on Venom during the last six months, General Pepper thought Andross was up to something—something big. Rather than depending on the usual patrol ships or the Early Warning Satellite System near Macbeth, he decided to send in Star Fox for a closer look." He pushed his half-empty mug away, his gaze distant once again. "We evaded the enemy combat space patrols easily enough, and we used the moon's gravity to mask our engine signatures. James managed to get some good high-level scans of the surface before we were shot down."
Shot down? Fox's eyes widened in disbelief. "But—Star Fox is the best of the best," he stammered, "You guys are untouchable! Even if you were ambushed by a whole squadron, I don't see how you couldn't have made a run for it and—"
"We were betrayed."
"What?!"
Peppy nodded, "You heard me." His nose twitched in agitation, "Before we knew what hit us, Pigma had blasted our wings off from behind. Disabling our ships was simple work for the hordes of Venomian fighters that swarmed in afterward. They knew exactly where to find us." The veteran pilot slammed his fist on the table in anguish, "For fifty million sanpon and a command position, that pig defected to Andross and sold us out!"
A defection in the Cornerian military? The very idea seemed absurd! How could Dengar have thrown away his entire career and turned his back on the billions of Lylatian citizens he had sworn to protect? Even more incomprehensible to Fox was that Pigma could hand over Peppy and his father to the likes of Andross after serving with them for so many years. They had saved his life a dozen times over! The vulpine waited as his friend, with great effort, regained his composure.
"We ejected at about 12,000 feet, for all the good it did us, and fell into a squad of troopers. They clubbed us senseless, and the next thing I knew, we were waking up in a prison cell," Peppy continued. "Andross was particularly interested in your father. He didn't want information—just James groveling at his feet, but your dad wouldn't have it if hell froze over." The veteran pilot dropped his eyes, "They beat him, they tortured him, but he gave them no satisfaction. He was defiant to the end." Peppy swallowed hard, "After he died, I overheard the guards talking about shooting me the next day, so I pretended to hang myself. When one of them came in to check on me, I managed to disarm him, grabbed his blaster, and escaped. It was a running fire fight all the way to the hangar, but I stole a craft and somehow made it back in one piece." He looked up slowly, "I can't tell you how sorry I am."
Fox's jaw worked, his neck muscles so tense that he could hardly breathe. His eyes stung as he rose to his feet and turned away. If only this day had never come. Why couldn't he have just gone to bed the previous night and never awoken to see the dawn? All he wanted now was to sink into the ground and disappear.
Peppy closed his eyes, once again at a loss for words. There was very little he could say at this point that would provide much comfort. The forgotten coffee mugs sat half empty on the table. Their contents grew cold, and still the heavy silence hung over the room. Finally the hare spoke, "You're welcome to stay for the night if you'd like. I know the barracks can get a little oppressive."
Fox shook his head quietly, a rough edge in his voice. "Thanks Peppy, but I think I'd better get moving."
"If you need anything—"
"It's okay Old Timer," Fox murmured. "I'm all right." Wordlessly he tucked the cardboard box under one arm and turned his steps toward the door.
***
The house had never seemed so still and empty. Locking the door behind him, Fox headed straight for his old room, ignoring the depressions his boots made in the carpet. More out of habit than necessity, he pressed the light switch as he tossed his bag roughly onto the bed. After all these years, he could have navigated the place blindfolded without so much as stubbing a toe. Just as the vulpine was about to flop face first next to his belongings, a scrap of yellow paper on the desk near the window caught his eye. He tramped over and dumped himself into the chair, setting his jaw when he recognized James's handwriting.
Junior,
If you're reading this, I guess you're taking a little break from studying. If you've brought your buddies with you, tell Falco not to break anything this time. I'll be pulling a few long patrols, but I promise I'll be back in time for graduation. I wouldn't miss it for anything! I know you'll do fine on the last proficiency exams. Just relax, do your best, and don't overheat your engine on the course. Go get 'em Fox! Make me proud!
Dad
P.S. Got a little surprise for you under my bed, but I'll skin you alive if you open it now! Wait until I get back, and we'll open it together okay? Take care Son.
But James McCloud was never coming back. The words on the paper began to blur as Fox's eyes filled with tears. He let them come. Crumpling the note in one clenched fist, he put his head down on the table and did something he practically never did. He cried. Away from the eyes and ears of the world, he wept bitterly until he was exhausted, finally slipping away into a fitful slumber filled with nightmares.
***
"Where's Fox," asked Falco as he stuck his head through the doorway.
"I haven't seen him," Bill replied, glancing to the empty bunk below him. "He hasn't been back since the day after finals."
"Geez," the avian exclaimed. "He's missing all the fun! We actually have some free time for once, and he just disappears?"
"It sure looks that way." Bill put down his magazine and hopped down to the floor. "You wouldn't happen to know where he went would you?"
"Would I be asking if I knew?"
Bill frowned, "I'm starting to get worried. It's not like Fox to just take off without dropping one of us a line first."
"Relax," Falco assured him. "Everyone says 'no news is good news' right?"
The canine shook his head. "I don't know. Four days ago he said he'd see us back at the airfield remember? He wasn't there when we landed. Then I overheard some guys in the hall say that he got some important call from the communications center. Later I talked to one of the MPs, and he definitely left the grounds that afternoon. Sure, it didn't bother at first, but—"
"Man, you're overanalyzing things." Falco stretched, popping a few joints as he leaned back against the wall. "He'll turn up before long."
Bill raised a brow, "Falco, graduation is tomorrow—1500 hours. Don't you think that's cutting it kinda close?"
"I'm sure he's fine," replied Falco. "If something was wrong, he'd have let us know right?"
"Yeah, I guess so," Bill muttered, but he wasn't entirely convinced, nor did he feel any better when Fox failed to show up for the morning and afternoon practices on the review field. That couldn't be right! As soon as he could get away, grab a quick shower, and obtain a day pass, he was headed for the hover bus station. He had to get some answers.
***
"EYAAH!" Fox yelled as he slammed his fist into the punching bag. Clad in a pair of blue shorts and a white tank top, the vulpine vented his frustration and anguish on the deadweight hanging from the garage ceiling. It hadn't helped. After many hours his knuckles were battered and bleeding, but he didn't care. He would just tape them up yet again before resuming his assault.
"YAAAAH!"
"Easy there Tiger," came a familiar voice from behind him. Fox turned around to see his best friend and comrade standing a few feet away with a first aid kit in one hand.
"Bill?" He managed a faint smile. "How long have you been standing there?"
"Long enough."
Fox nodded, trudging over to a couple of metal crates and taking a seat. He looked like hell, drenched in sweat and his unkempt fur flying in all directions. He had slept little and eaten less over the last several days. It was a small miracle he had the energy to do anything at all.
Bill sat down next to Fox and began to remove the stained bandages from the vulpine's fists. "Damn," he exclaimed. "You keep this up, and you'll have something broken before too long." He reached into the aluminum box and fished out a surface tissue regenerator.
"Tell me something I don't know," Fox muttered, watching the small magenta beam pass over his fingers. Something was already broken deep inside him—a wound that he doubted would ever heal completely.
"I'm really sorry about your dad."
"Thanks."
"He was proud of you Fox, and he still is." The canine finished wrapping the injured knuckles with a new layer of tape. "I know it hurts," he said, placing an arm across his comrade's shoulders, "But you have to be strong now. You might not see him, but in spirit he—"
"Save it," Fox cut him off firmly. He knew his friend meant well, but his emotional agony would not be soothed so easily. After sitting in silence for several minutes, he tested his hands, opening and closing them a few times. They felt better. Satisfied, he rose to his feet and headed back toward the punching bag.
"Whoa, hang on a second!" Bill called after him, "Do you want to visit the infirmary?"
"HYAAH!"
"I guess you do," the gray dog said under his breath. He sighed and stood, making his way over to Fox. "We missed you at practice today buddy."
"AUGH!"
"It was kinda hot this afternoon, but nothing compared to the survival course last summer," the canine remarked.
"YAAAH!"
"You do remember the rules don't you? If you don't practice at least once, you don't march."
"HEEYAH!"
"There's only one more rehearsal tomorrow morning."
"UNNGH!"
Bill arched a brow worriedly. "Fox? Fox! HEY, are you listening to me?!"
"HAAAH—"
With a solid thump, Bill caught and deflected the vulpine's arm away from its target. He leveled a hard gaze at the other cadet, staring into his friend's jade-green eyes with his icy blue ones.
Fox exhaled sharply, "I heard you." He swung at the bag with his left, but the punch was blocked once again.
"Stop ignoring me," Bill frowned.
"It doesn't matter."
"What?!"
Fox abruptly dropped his hackles and turned away, seeming to deflate a few sizes. "None of it matters." At least it didn't matter anymore. He had been only three years old when his mother died, and now his father, who meant more to him that he could possibly describe in words, had been taken from him as well. How could he continue alone? Graduation from the academy should have been the happiest day of his life, but if the elder McCloud couldn't share the moment of triumph, it was meaningless.
"What do you mean, 'none of it matters,' Bill said incredulously. "We're talking about your dream here! It's what you've always wanted."
"Yeah, well maybe I don't want it anymore."
"Are you sure you didn't hit your head on that punching bag?"
Fox turned around, staring his friend straight in the eye. "Let me make this very simple okay? Two words: I quit."
Bill gaped, hardly believing his ears, "You can't just throw it all away!"
"Watch me."
The vulpine started for the back door, but his comrade dashed in front of him, blocking the way. "Fox, don't do this! Yeah, it's natural to feel like it's the end of the world right now. Believe me, I'd feel the same way if I lost my parents, but would your dad have wanted you to just stop living?"
Fox didn't answer.
"Of course not! He would have wanted you to carry on—live for him. There's nothing that he'd want more than to have you follow in his footsteps and walk across that stage tomorrow!"
The vulpine sighed, "Can I ask you something?"
"Name it!"
"Have you lost your parents?"
Bill was caught off guard by the question. He suddenly found himself on the defensive, "Well…no, but—"
"Then I would appreciate it if you wouldn't tell me how I should feel, what I should do, or what my father would have wanted," Fox said evenly. "If you really want to do something for me, just leave me alone." With that, he pushed past the other cadet and closed the door behind him, leaving an exasperated Bill staring at his feet in silence.
***
Night was falling when Fox ventured out of the house once more. The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, but the western skies were still glowing faintly with a pale shade of midnight blue to hint of its passing. As the air gradually cleared, the stars came out one-by-one until the great dome above him was filled with tiny points of light, innumerable as the grains of sand of the seashore. The vulpine recalled how, when he was younger, he used to lie on his back in the grass on summer nights, much like this one, and admire nature's awesome beauty. He would gaze at those tiny points of light, naming all the ones he knew and making up names for those he didn't until the singing of the crickets lulled him to sleep. The dream would always be the same—of soaring through that endless sea of stars from one side of the galaxy to the other. Deep inside, part of him wanted to listen to Bill, but his thoughts would inevitably return to James's tragic death, and the stabbing pain of insufferable grief would drown out everything else.
"Yo', Fox?!"
"Not again," the cadet grumbled to himself.
"C'mon Fox! I know you're here somewhere," called the voice behind him.
"Go away," he responded without turning around.
"Like hell I will," said Falco as he made his way into the backyard. "How are you holding up," he asked, his voice growing quieter momentarily.
"I've had better days," Fox replied. Boy, what an understatement.
The avian nodded with a slight grimace, "I hear ya. Bill told me about what happened to your old man. Sorry to hear it."
The vulpine nodded.
"Tough break huh?"
"You're telling me." Fox sighed, "Look, I've had this conversation already."
"Well, apparently you weren't listening the first time," his friend remarked. "Bill's right, and we all know it!"
Fox frowned. "If you're here to give me another pep talk, don't bother," he said irritably.
"I'm not here to give you a pep talk," Falco said. "You look like you could use something else—" Without warning, his fist swung in a powerful arc and caught the other cadet squarely in the jaw, knocking him to the ground.
"Argh! Hey, what the hell was that for?!" Fox demanded with a snarl.
"Your wakeup call," Falco replied nonchalantly. He extended his right hand to help his comrade up as if nothing had happened.
"What is that supposed to mean," Fox snapped, grudgingly accepting the assist. His vision exploded in another bright flash as Falco's left hook sent him sprawling once again.
"You've been wallowing in self-pity long enough. It's time to suck it up, and move on!"
Fox growled angrily and rose to his feet, clenching his fists. "You're asking for it feather brain!"
"Pfft, I'm just translating what I'm saying into a form you can understand," Falco scoffed. "But you've been so blockheaded today that I don't think you can understand anything!"
"WHY YOU—" Fox exploded. He sailed into Falco with an uppercut, and a fight promptly erupted.
"Damn it," Falco shouted as he swung and missed. "You're graduating tomorrow if I have to bash in your skull and drag you across that field myself!!"
"I'd like to see you try it!!" Fox yelled back, slugging his opponent in the gut, and sending him reeling backward with a roundhouse elbow. "I don't take orders from you!!"
The avian charged, tackling the vulpine to the ground. The two rolled over and over in the grass, Falco managing to pin the other cadet beneath him.
"Why don't you keep your big beak out of my business," Fox hissed, struggling to free himself.
"I'm trying to do you a favor, genius," Falco shot back. In the process he lost his grip, and Fox managed to heave the other cadet off as he rolled back to his feet.
"YOU STUBBORN FOOL!"
"LOOK WHO'S TALKING!"
The combatants flew at each other again, but as the brawl dragged on, neither seemed to be gaining the upper hand. They were too evenly matched. Pummeling each other until they were exhausted, they finally collapsed on their backs next to each other, worn out and very sore.
"Fox," Falco gasped. "Do you remember the first time we met each other?"
"Yeah," panted Fox. "You wrecked your hover bike pulling one of your crazy stunts, and I helped you carry it back to that empty lot you used to call home."
Falco glanced over at his comrade. "That's right, and if you'd asked anybody back then if Falco Lombardi would ever amount to anything, they'd have thrown you in the loony bin." The avian placed his hands behind his head and stared up at the sky. "My old man abandoned us when I was ten. I worked my ass off after school for a while to keep the four of us alive, but my mother just drank half of it anyway. Finally I decided that it would be a whole lot easier if I just worried about one person—me. So, I ran away from home. I joined a gang, lived on the streets, and basically did whatever the hell I wanted. I wasn't what you'd call winning material! People like me either wind up dead, in the slammer for twenty, or if we're lucky, live in the gutter for the rest of our short, miserable lives." He turned and gave his companion a hard look, "But you know what? Someone did believe in me the day I almost broke my neck on that bike. I told him I did stupid stuff like that because I wanted to fly—high and fast. For a loser like me, that was about as good as it got, but this guy thought I was better than that, and he decided he was gonna help me chase my dream. His name was Fox McCloud."
Fox didn't answer.
Falco continued, unfazed by the silence. "I cleaned up my act, and because of you I managed to make the cut and get into the academy. I started a whole semester behind, but somehow I caught up by the end of the second year." Wincing, he sat up clutching his stomach with one hand. "I'd never worked so hard in my entire life, and I thought about dropping out more than once, but you wouldn't let me quit. You wouldn't let me give up my dream. Tomorrow I'm an ensign in the CSDF—not some piece of trash in a back alley."
Rising to his feet again, the avian pinned the vulpine with his fierce gaze. "Fox, you'd better be listening, because this isn't easy for me to say to anybody. I owe you big time; I couldn't have earned these wings if it hadn't been for you. Now what kind of a friend would I be if I let you turn your back on your dream after all we've been through together? I will be damned if I let you quit now!"
Fox cleared his throat as he stood up with some difficulty. "Hey, things are already tough right now. Don't make it any worse."
"I'm not leaving without you buster!"
The vulpine sighed in frustration. "Falco, I appreciate what you're trying to do—honest! You and Bill are the best friends I could have right now, but this is something I need to sort out on my own." He looked away, returning his eyes to the heavens. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
At last Falco muttered, "You once told me that I needed to let go of my past since there was nothing I could do to change it. What's done is done." The avian began to head back the way he came. "If you won't listen to me, then take some of your own advice," he called over his shoulder before disappearing into the night.