Fox exhaled softly as the sound of his friend's footsteps on the pavement grew fainter and fainter—finally dying away altogether. The yard was quiet once again, but the cadet's mind was anything but tranquil.
"What's done is done," echoed Falco's voice in his thoughts.
"We're talking about your dream here! It's what you've always wanted!" Bill's earnest appeals came flooding back.
"James managed to get some good high-level scans of the surface before we were shot down." Peppy's words added themselves to the chaos. "I can't tell you how sorry I am."
The vulpine frowned, beginning to pace back and forth. He did remember giving Falco a similar earful about not dwelling in the past, but that was long before this disaster had ever occurred. It had shattered his morale, and he felt as if part of him had died along with James in that dark Venomian prison cell. Sometimes it was much easier to give advice than to follow it.
"Fox, don't do this!"
"They beat him. They tortured him."
"You can't just throw it all away!"
"I needed to let go…there was nothing I could do to change it."
Yes, he needed to let go. He knew it, but where would he find the strength? How would he find it? His father had always been the first to support him whenever disaster struck, but this time it would not be so. The elder McCloud could offer no comfort regarding his own death. Fate, it seemed, had a cruel sense of irony.
Fox bowed his head as a gentle breeze ruffled his dusty, matted fur. Huh? His eyes fell on the battered strips of tape still clinging to his knuckles, and his thoughts drifted back to his friends once more. Bill and Falco had been there for him when he needed them the most. They had not abandoned him, despite his repeated attempts to push them away all afternoon. The more he thought about it, the more he began to realize how much they all meant to each other. They were more than just friends; they were family. Together they would get through this crisis, and the younger McCloud would eventually come to terms with his loss. Perhaps he would not face it alone after all.
"You've been wallowing in self-pity too long!"
"Would your dad have wanted you to stop living?"
"No," he said aloud. Of course his father wouldn't have wanted him to give up. He had never been a quitter, and now would be a terrible moment to start.
"I know it hurts, but you have to be strong now."
"It's time to suck it up and move on!"
"There's nothing he'd want more than to have you follow in his footsteps and walk across that stage tomorrow."
Fox nodded. They were both right, and they had been right all along. It was he who had been wrong to even consider turning his back on the future. He had worked so hard and accomplished too much. In his heart, he knew he would never find true happiness with any career unless it was at the controls of a star fighter. The world had not ended. Living without his father would be a heavy burden to bear, but he would survive. It would just take a little time.
"Thanks guys," he said, feeling more like himself than he had in several days. "I owe you one."
---
"Well, how do I look," Bill asked as he turned away from the mirror. The typically easygoing canine seemed slightly nervous about his appearance, which was unusual since he had seldom received demerits on account of sloppy attire.
Fox mused, scratching his chin. "I think you missed a spot," the cadet responded after a brief inspection.
"Uh-oh. Where?"
The vulpine rose from the edge of his bunk and ambled over to Bill. "Just this button," he pointed. As the gray dog glanced downward, he was greeted with a sharp thump in the jaw. Fox smirked and shook his head, "Relax Bill. You look sharp. If you mess with that uniform anymore, you'll wear it out!"
"Yeah, but today's the big day," his roommate insisted. "Everything's gotta be perfect! We'll only graduate once you know."
"I know," replied Fox. "Now move over Narcissus, and let me have a turn."
"All right, all right, it's all yours," Bill grinned. He took a few steps back and leaned against the bunks.
Fox studied himself in the rectangular mirror and was mostly satisfied with what he saw. Not a single strand of fur was out of place, nor did his blue dress uniform display the slightest wrinkle. The row of brass buttons down its front and the wings on his chest had been meticulously polished until they gleamed like burning coals whenever they caught the light. Even his shoes had been shined to the point of being reflective. After a few moments of contemplation, the vulpine straightened his collar ever so slightly and nodded. "Not bad! Not bad at all!"
"Heh, that's more than we can say for some people," Bill laughed, glancing over his shoulder into the hall. Right on cue a muffled thump was heard in one of the adjacent rooms, followed by a few choice words and a crash. Seconds later Falco dashed into view, half dressed and very agitated.
"Hey guys, what time is it!"
Fox glanced at his watch. "1347. You've got less than fifteen minutes buddy."
"Shit!" The avian cursed. He whirled around and sprinted for the bathroom.
"Hurry up, or you'll be left behind," Bill called after him.
"Shut up!"
"Falco, Falco, Falco," Fox chuckled. "You're so close. Just try not to trip over the finish line!"
"Of all the times to be late," Bill agreed. He reached for his cap and sat down on the end of the lower bunk, looking it over for any imperfections.
Having a few minutes to kill, Fox walked slowly over to the window and raised the shade. Waldron Hall's fourth floor had a decent view of the central academy grounds, and for a little while he allowed his eyes to wander over the familiar turf. With most underclassmen dismissed for summer leave, the wide, gray, concrete walkways, usually filled with cadets moving from place to place, were almost completely deserted. A few visitors could be seen near the fountain in front of the main office, a large, brick building erected centuries earlier by the nation state of Beinichia. At the time, the site had been the home of an air force academy that trained pilots to fly archaic, piston engine craft. Beyond the classroom buildings to the east, the enormous, white dome of the holographic simulator and the athletic complex, with its many rows of glass panels reflecting the intense glare of the midday sun, were visible, and on the edge of campus the vulpine could just make out the main hangar and runway. Yes, the defense academy had truly become his second home. He knew it like the back of his hand. However, this would be the final day he spent here as a flight cadet. An important chapter in his life was coming to an end, and a new one, both greater and more uncertain than the last, was about to be written.
"You're awfully quiet," Bill commented as he fiddled with the cap in his hands. "Is something on your mind?"
"Maybe." Fox trudged across the floor and took a seat next to his childhood friend. "I was just thinking about the last four years—everything we've been through. I'd say it's been one hell of a ride."
"It sure has," his comrade nodded. "Still, it's hard to believe that it's really over."
"Yeah." The vulpine's brown creased slightly. "One moment it seems like I've been here forever, but when I stop and think about it for a while, I feel like I just got here at the same time." A corner of his mouth quirked upward into a half-smile. "Strange huh?"
Bill shook his head. "It's not that strange. I happen to feel the same way, though I can't explain it myself. I guess it's what makes us different from machines."
Fox nodded in agreement. "Not to mention machines don't form friendships." If there was one thing he regretted about graduation, it was having to part ways with his comrades, particularly the one who had been with him from the very beginning. The Lylat System was a big place, and the chances of the two cadets being assigned to the same squadron were practically nonexistent. Like most pilots, they would probably go their separate ways when they received their commissions. "I'm sure gonna miss you Bill," he said after a moment. "You're like the brother I never had. Things just won't be the same without you around."
"Yeah, I know," the gray dog replied. "I'm gonna miss you too Fox. I couldn't ask for a better friend in the whole world." He smiled. "We made a good team didn't we?"
"We make a good team," Fox corrected him. He felt sure they always would—regardless of the challenge. "Listen, um…" he cleared his throat, shifting his gaze uncomfortably. "About yesterday afternoon…I wanted to say I'm sorry for acting like a moron. I wasn't myself at all."
"No kidding," Bill scoffed with a frown. "I've had better luck reasoning with a brick wall."
"Hey!"
The canine laughed, "I'm just messing with you. Don't worry; I understand completely. In the end you made the right decision, and that's all that matters."
Fox nodded. After a moment of contemplation he glanced down at his watch, noting that it was almost time to leave. "Well, are you ready to do this," he asked as he rose to his feet and placed his cap squarely on his head.
"You bet," Bill replied, following suit. "Let's just hope Falco gets his act together in time."
"He will," the vulpine chuckled. "If there's one thing I've learned, it's to never underestimate him."
---
The strong rays of the hot, afternoon sun shone brilliantly down upon the field of freshly mowed grass. Absent of the usual athletics teams, a small stage now stood in its center beneath a green tent, facing many rows of empty seats. The stands were packed—filled to capacity with thousands of parents, relatives, and friends, all waiting expectantly as groups of students began lining up at the entrance to the stadium.
"Whew, couldn't they have waited until evening," Peppy gasped as he removed his cap and mopped his brow with a handkerchief. Determined to secure a good spot, he had arrived nearly two hours early, but it had been worth the wait. From this vantage point, he would have an excellent view of the entire ceremony from start to finish. "At least I'm in the shade. I know they must be feeling it down there." The hare cast a sympathetic glance at the young pilots and the military band, braving the heat at attention with instruments ready.
Finally, a group of instructors and dignitaries appeared on the field, taking refuge beneath the tent's broad roof. It would not be long now. At precisely 1500 hours, the band began to play, and the color guard advanced onto the track followed by rank after rank of marching cadets, all moving in perfect cohesion. As the mass of blue uniforms drew closer, Peppy soon spotted Fox among the honor graduates at the head of the column. "Ah, there he is," the hare nodded with a smile. Pulling a flat photo wafer from his pocket, the veteran pilot took a quick snapshot for his massive collection of pictures. "So much like his father."
Left! Left! Left, right, left! Fox hardly heard the cadence echoing in his mind anymore. By this time he was so accustomed to the rhythm of marching feet on pavement that it came almost as naturally as breathing. He doubted his body would ever unlearn the drill—even if he lived to be a hundred and twenty. Eyes facing forward, the disciplined students moved as one individual, parading once around the field before separating and filing orderly to their seats.
Following the Lylatian anthem, Commandant George Withrow, the first in a group of several speakers, took his place at the podium. The canine surveyed the assembly of young pilots before him for a long moment, his gaze quiet and yet penetrating at the same time.
Ladies and Gentlemen, on behalf of the faculty, staff, and students of the
Cornerian Defense Academy, it is my privilege to welcome you to this year's
commencement exercises. I know I need not tell you that your sons and
daughters have come a long way over the last four years. They are no longer the
same individuals who took those first uncertain steps off the shuttle and onto this
campus. This institution has changed them, molded them, and shaped who they
have become. They have been weighed, and they have been measured, but those you see before you today have not been found wanting. The class of 2219 has been one of the best ever to walk these grounds, and I can assure you with the utmost confidence that you will not find a better group of young adults anywhere in this star system.
Fox sat as still as a statue, never taking his eyes from the speaker's face as he kept his expression carefully controlled and impassive. Inside however, he was more than a little surprised. Compliments from Commandant Withrow were almost as rare as a snowstorm in July, and they were never more than a "good work" or "that'll do."
"Cadets," Withrow addressed the student body. "Your time is almost here. In less than two hours you will finally become commissioned officers. I know many of you are itching for this ceremony to be over, and some of you are probably thinking, 'When is he going to shut up and get off that stage?'" He smiled dryly as faint murmurs of laughter rippled through the crowd. "But I want you all to slow down, relax, and take a look around. Take in every sight, every smell, every sound, and burn it into your memory. No detail is insignificant. Savor this moment for as long as you possibly can, for I tell you truthfully, it will never come again."
"You don't need to say it twice," thought Fox. The vulpine had spent most of his life in anticipation of this day, hour, and place, and he wouldn't have minded one bit if the program had been twice as long. He listened to every speech as intently as he had any mission briefing. He felt the warmth of the sun and the puffs of the summer breeze on his face. He drank in the smell of the grass. Yes, he was truly here—awake, alive, and aware of every sensation—including a growing number of butterflies in his stomach as the moment of truth drew closer and closer.
At last, Commandant Withrow rose from his seat and returned to the podium, flanked by two officers bearing a large, metallic box on an antigrav plate.
"Rise!"
The cadets obeyed in unison.
"Members of the Class of 2219, come forward and be recognized."
"Well, here it goes," Fox said to himself as he took a breath and headed for the stage.
"Fox McCloud," Withrow read solemnly. "Class leader, top one percent, graduate with distinction." The commandant took a coated scroll of paper and a gold medallion in a heavy, black case from his assistant. Turning away from the microphone, his voice indiscernible by the remainder of the assembly, he added, "And the best I have ever seen in my life. Good luck cadet."
"Thank you sir," the vulpine replied as he shook Withrow's hand firmly. Then the weight of the diploma and medal sank into his palm. It felt absolutely wonderful.
"Lupina Gasperini, graduate with distinction," the commandant continued. "William Grey, graduate with distinction…Tiger Torayama, graduate with distinction."
Returning to his place in the front row, it was all Fox could do to keep a straight face. Pride swelled in his chest as he clutched the precious document firmly in his grasp, hardly hearing the names of the others, or anything else for that matter. The feeling of euphoria washing over him was practically intoxicating.
"Dong Hyun Kim," the long roll of cadets went on. "Joseph LaGrange…Falco Lombardi…"
Falco? The name brought Fox back to earth again as he watched his comrade ascend the short flight of steps to receive his commission. The avian had not been left behind after all, despite nearly oversleeping the most important moment of his life. With a dignified handshake, he accepted the scroll from Commandant Withrow and resumed his place among the others, his expression largely inscrutable. "Who would have thought four years ago," the vulpine said to himself.
When the final names had been read, Withrow prepared to dismiss the graduating class for the last time.
Cadets, your studies at this institution are now complete. A new day is
dawning—the beginning of your careers in the Cornerian Space Defense Force.
For nearly three centuries, these facilities at Cape Henderson have trained tens of
thousands of skilled aviators. Today you continue the proud tradition as you join
their ranks. Your instructors and I wish you continued success in all your future
endeavors. Good luck, and good hunting!
As the canine finished speaking, the blue-uniformed pilots raised their voices in unison while the band played the Song of National Defense, the academy alma mater.
Whether attacking or defending land and sea or sky and star,
Bear the fight courageously to enemies near and far.
No matter what the challenge, Lylat's sword and shield we are,
Citizens despaireth not! We stand on guard for thee!
Fox felt his spirit stirring within him as he sang enthusiastically with the rest. Many would have balked at the difficult and often dangerous task of flying a star fighter—even during peacetime, but not the young McCloud. Like all the pilots who had come before him throughout history, flying was a passion that had no equal in his mind, and with Venom's increasingly hostile policy toward the other planets of the system, he would gladly put his life on the line in defense of Corneria. Come flame or flood, this was his destiny, and he would have it no other way.
Never faltering, never failing,
March on! March on! March on!
We shall hold our banner high,
And march on to victory!
A tremor of excitement surged through the students as they bared their heads, singing all the louder.
Never faltering, never failing,
March on! March on! March on!
We shall hold our banner high,
And MARCH ON TO VICTORY!
And all at once it was over. With a resounding cheer that shook the stadium, the ecstatic graduates hurled their caps skyward in jubilation. The order and discipline that had held the assembly firmly in its grasp minutes earlier completely dissolved, replaced with pandemonium as the stands emptied their contents onto the grassy field and parents, students, teachers, and guests merged into one giant body.
"YEEEEEEEEEEE-HAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"
Fox swiveled an ear, glancing up from retrieving his hat. A grin spread rapidly across his muzzle as he saw Bill making his way through the crowd. "WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- HOOOOOOOOOH!" He whooped in return as the two shared a brotherly embrace. "We did it! We really did it!" He yelled as he clapped his best friend firmly on the back with his free hand.
"You bet we did!" The canine howled in delight. "Was there ever a doubt!"
"Of course not," Fox replied with a sudden air of dead seriousness. "We never got into trouble…the idea!" A corner of his muzzle began to twitch as he made a futile effort to stifle a smirk. Giving up, they both burst out laughing as the vulpine recalled the many hours spent working off demerits—Bill, Falco, and himself—all three of them together on the practice grounds more often than not. "Okay, maybe just a little," he admitted at last, still chuckling.
"Understatement of the year! Right here people!" Falco declared as he joined them. "Don't worry ladies, he's not quite as bad as he looks."
"Pfft, you're one to talk," scoffed Fox. "You got into trouble; we just came along for the ride."
The avian shrugged. "Hey, it's all good! The important thing is we're done, and I for one intend to party! When do we ditch this Popsicle stand?"
"Whoa, take it easy," said Bill. "There'll be plenty of time to celebrate later. Right now we should just chill and mingle for awhile."
Falco rolled his eyes impatiently. "Whatever. Just don't make it too long okay?"
"Okay," the canine smirked. "We won't keep you from your hot date any longer than necessary."
Falco glared at Bill. He opened his mouth to retaliate, but a voice from behind the trio cut him off before he could respond.
"Hello stranger."
The gray dog recognized it immediately, his face brightening like a ray of sunlight as he turned to regard his parents and little brother.
"Mom! Dad! You made it!"
"Of course we did son," his father spoke again. "We wouldn't have missed it for the world."
"We're so proud of you," his mother added as she hugged her eldest pup, her face wreathed in smiles. "I can still hardly believe it."
"I can hardly believe it myself," said Bill, bending forward slightly while Mrs. Grey stood on tiptoe. "It's so good to see all of you."
"Does this mean you're gonna be flying a real star fighter now," piped a third voice.
Bill grinned, fuzzling his brother's head fur enthusiastically. "Yep, the real thing Dusty. Who knows, I might even give you a ride in it one of these days."
"Really? Awesome!"
Mr. Grey chuckled, shaking his head. "All right, let's not get ahead of ourselves. You have a very long way to go yet."
"Don't worry Dad," said Bill, placing his own cap atop his brother's crown where it promptly sank over the boy's ears. "He'll grow into it."
Fox smiled, crossing his arms as he studied Dusty's eager face. It was like looking into a mirror and seeing a childhood reflection of himself from nine, maybe ten years ago. The lights that danced behind the pup's eyes at the mention of flying were quite familiar indeed. Undoubtedly Bill recognized them too, and even Falco, whether he admitted it or not. Falco? The vulpine glanced to his left, suddenly realizing that his avian companion had slipped away into the crowd unnoticed. "What's with him," he mumbled under his breath. Ugh, stupid question. The answer came almost immediately. Falco had no family to speak of, and such displays made him…uncomfortable. The young pilot swallowed a lump in his throat as he thought of his own parents. What he wouldn't have given to share this auspicious day with them.
"Congratulations Fox."
Fox blinked, awakening from his daydream as Peppy's voice broke into his thoughts. "Thanks Old Timer," he replied, shaking the hare's extended hand. It was then that he noticed the imposing figure standing beside and slightly behind the veteran pilot. The hound's appearance was striking to say the least. Clothed in the gold embroidered, red dress uniform of the Cornerian Army, row upon row of battle ribbons pinned on his chest, and the Phoenix Kite and Silver Star around his neck, he projected an aura of age and experience that contrasted sharply with the newly commissioned ensigns around him—like a flame in the midst of the sea.
"General!"
"As you were," said General Pepper, dismissing the knee-jerk snap to attention with a wave of his gloved hand. "I take it you remember me Junior?"
Fox exhaled softly. "Yes sir, I believe I do," he nodded.
"That's good!" said Pepper. "The last time we crossed paths you were only knee high to a grasshopper." The canine smiled wryly, "As I recall, you knocked over the coffee can of lollipops on my desk."
Fox blushed, shuffling his feet from side to side as he recalled the incident, one of his first memories. "I was only three years old sir."
"That you were my boy, that you were," the general chuckled. "But you were already poking your nose into things. You were just as adventurous as your father…even then." Looking thoughtful for a moment, the hound turned to his companion. "Peppy, if you would excuse us for a few minutes? I would like to have a talk with this young ensign."
"Of course sir," Peppy nodded respectfully. "I think I'd better find Falco before things really get out of hand. I'll see you later Fox." Withdrawing into the mass of blue uniforms behind them, he quickly disappeared from view.
"Later!" Fox called after the departing hare. Gathering his courage, he advanced to Pepper's side as the general set an easy pace toward an empty corner of the field. "Congratulations on your promotion sir," he said after a brief period of silence.
"Thank you Fox," Pepper replied. "Though all things considered, being head of the System Defense Chiefs isn't all it's made out to be." The hound sighed wistfully, "I miss my old command. All I seem to do these days is slog through an unending quagmire of paperwork."
"It must be difficult," Fox agreed with a sympathetic nod. "But it's safer than a field commission."
"It is indeed," said the general. "I began my career in the infantry Junior. You need not remind me of the hazards the common foot soldier faces, even in these modern times." He closed his eyes. "I still remember the day when my squad was pinned down in a hot landing zone during the Luzonian Conflict on Zoness. There were no other friendly troops in range and enemy blaster bolts coming so thick and fast that you could walk on them. If it hadn't been for one James McCloud and his wingmen, we wouldn't have lasted five minutes." Pepper turned and looked Fox squarely in the eye, "I have never forgotten the value of close air support, nor have I forgotten the pilot who saved my life and the lives of my men."
Fox smiled broadly. "He never forgot you either sir. I've heard him talk about that battle many times ever since I was a kid."
"We've been friends for many years," Pepper nodded. "He was a good pilot and a good man. I was deeply saddened to hear of your loss."
"Yes sir. Thank you sir." The vulpine looked away for a moment, clearing his throat.
"As I said before," Pepper continued after a brief pause. "Your father taught me the value of close air support, and ever since, I've always made it a point to always work closely with the air and space defense forces. Without control of the skies, army units are hard pressed to even survive, much less accomplish their missions." The hound reached into his pocket, producing an official envelope. "I believe you'll recognize this…"
Fox raised a brow as he read his name on the sky blue paper. "Sure I do. It's my new posting." He tilted his head at the red seal on the reverse side. "Cancelled?"
"More like a delay," Pepper explained. "As you know, most of your classmates will be heading to their new squadron assignments after leave. I'm postponing your deployment by one week."
"Postponing sir?" The young pilot tilted his head ever so slightly. "May I ask why?"
"Because I have a job I want you to do for me," the general replied. "Unfortunately, I can't discuss the specifics with right away, but let's just say that it is a matter I would like resolved as soon as possible."
Fox nodded. "You can count on me sir!"
"Excellent," said Pepper. "I'll expect to see you at Big Sky Astrodrome two weeks from tomorrow. Until then, try not to drink too much, eh? I hear Ensign Lombardi has taken a liking to Zonessian Brandy," he winked. "Good day Fox."
Fox blinked. "See you later sir," he managed as Pepper departed. How could the general have known? Well, if the hound had wanted to put them on report, he would have certainly done so by now. Turning his thoughts to other matters, he eyed the blue envelope still in his hands. "Big Sky Air Force Astrodrome huh," he read aloud. "I wonder what this job is all about." The vulpine turned his steps back toward the other students. In any case, he wouldn't have very long to wait for the answer.