Author's Note: Happy New Year, and a new chapter is here just for you! NO fighting, once again, but I all but guarantee blasters and blades will be leaving their holsters in the next chapter. Thanks again to notfromearth7 for reviewing, and to everyone else for reading (I passed 100 hits, woo!). anywho, I once again encourage more people to review, so I can make this thing even better for you, but I'll keep writing regardless. Enjoy the chapter, and I'll see you around the site!
Discalimer: I don't own Star Fox's canon plots, characters, or locations. I do own Kip, Marl, CID, Skadi, and as of right now, Vincent and his buddies, Chuck and Lucas (who you'll meet at the end of the chapter).
P.S. Mad props to the first one who can tell me where I got Vincent's last name without looking it up (not that I'd know if you did :P)
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Chapter 2: Solidifying Webs
Capital City, Corneria.
Seated comfortably in the darkened back seat of her luxury hover car, the directress of Corneria's legendary intelligence and covert ops division, Dept. I, held her government issued PDA/communicator, waiting patiently for the animal she had been trying to contact to answer her call. When General Hare had relayed the Prime Minister's orders to her, she instinctively knew that the best first step would be to activate the department's numerous sleeper cells within organizations deemed potential security threats to the Federation, and this particular agent of hers would do just that. These smugglers, if reports were accurate, were anything but dumb, though they could be accused of having a death wish after what they'd done, so they might have avoided the more obvious enemies of her government's goals, such as the Directorate and the crime lords of Macbeth, but chances were that they'd sought refuge near, if not among, the ranks of one of these threats, as such groups would be the only ones that could even hope to provide them with any protection from Corneria's hunters.
"Operative 057 here. Codename is Dawn. The morning air is still" a voice suddenly chirped out of the PDA.
The directress chuckled; considering that it was well past dusk in Capital City, the operative's statement was quite humorous, but the security statement confirmed the speaker's identity nonetheless. "This is Mother. Scramble the workers. Objective is being mailed to you by the drones as we speak."
"Certainly, Mother, you will be kept updated on their progress," the operative confirmed before abruptly cutting the connection.
The directress sat back, content in the certainty that the order she'd just relayed would be carried out to the letter. Sadly, the sleepers, most of whom were simple thugs and fugitives who'd sold their services to Dept. I in exchange for avoiding a harsh sentence, would likely fail to apprehend or neutralize the targets. Instead, they would merely alert their overseers of the targets' location or locations in the event they'd split up, prior to meeting an untimely demise. Once that task was completed, a couple of the department's Field Agents would be able to swoop in and finish the job. The directress knew that Peppy's orders had called for all available agents to be put to work on apprehending the smugglers and the stolen Excavation data, if they had it, but she refused to shut down all of the department's operations for two smugglers, no matter how dangerous they and what they'd stolen were to the Federation.
An idea hit her, and though it was difficult to see in the darkened car, the directress grinned. She would call in three very special Field Agents for this task. Unlike most agents, who worked alone, these three were particularly effective as a team, and would be more than up to the task of extracting the smugglers from the grasp of whatever organization they'd ran to. Unfortunately, they were also anything but subtle, especially when they came together. Considering the importance the Prime Minister had given this task, however, the directress doubted he'd care if her agents blew an entire planet to kingdom come, so long as they succeeded.
"We've arrived at your building, Ms. Phoenix" the shadow enshrouded female's driver announced over the intercom.
Moments later, the driver opened the right side door of the car's backseat. Squinting against the countless sparkling lights illuminating the city like a sea of fireflies, the directress stepped out of the dark vehicle, revealing an attractive fennec fox with sandy blonde fur and green eyes, dressed in a simple black business suit and skirt. "Thank you, Lewis" she said to the driver, handing him a currency disc with a couple hundred credits on it. The toad was paid rather well by the company he worked for, but she liked to express her thanks for making her his exclusive client once in a while. "I'll see you in the morning. Give my regards to your wife."
The muddy brown toad grinned and nodded. "I certainly will, Ms. Phoenix," he assured the fennec, "have a lovely evening."
Fara Phoenix smiled warmly, and waited for the car to pull away before heading into her apartment complex. As she boarded the elevator to ascend to her apartment, a small pang of some indecipherable emotion hit her, causing her to freeze inside the tiny moving room.
Unbidden, an image of a brown, male half-fennec flashed in Fara's mind, grinning as if he had fooled the whole universe with some clever magic trick, and the emotion solidified into a distinct feeling of concern for his well being. The vixen shook her head, trying to shake the sensation, but it wouldn't give way to her will.
True, she thought, her cousin was rumored to be involved in some pretty shady dealings, and he'd certainly brushed the subject of his work aside last time they'd talked, but that was three years ago, and even if he was working along those lines, he wouldn't dare try and knock over a Cornerian battleship. He might be a troublemaker, like her father said, and he might even be a little crazy, but Fara knew he did not take unnecessary risks. He wouldn't do something as suicidal as this, she told herself.
Her rationalization freed up her mind enough to press the button for her floor, and the vixen felt the slight jolt of the elevator beginning its ascent. However, the small pit of uneasiness in her gut refused to seal up completely. As she stepped out onto her floor, she conceded to the truth at the core of her concerns: She was afraid she might finally have to choose between her family and the nation she had, to date, devoted her life to, and she had no idea which she'd choose.
Deep down, Fara had always known this might happen. She personally had believed whole heartedly in the righteousness of Corneria's government, but even when she had been fighting on the front lines in the Lylat Wars, she knew her father's corporation supported Corneria primarily out of convenience, and now that Aerospace Dynamics practically ran one of the most staunchly neutral planets in the system, the possibility that her family and Corneria might end up on other ends of the playing field was more real than ever. Then, of course, there was Kip.
Fara's young cousin had always been a loose canon. The vixen had never known her uncle very well, since he died just after Kip was born and had only come to visit her father on Eladard once, but she'd been told the half-fennec took after his father almost to the letter. Carefree and rambunctious, Kip had always preferred the wild deserts around the tiny port he'd grown up in on Titania to the Phoenix family home on the great city-planet his mother had sent him to for schooling, and whenever he came to live with her family for a semester, he invariably would get himself in some manner of trouble in his efforts to "stir things up". Her father pretty much hated the "rebel pup", as he called him, but Fara had always respected Kip's spirit, if not all of his views on life. A good fifteen years and her wartime experiences separated them, but all the same she had shared many heated, but friendly discussions about almost anything one could imagine with the precocious young kit whenever her responsibilities to the Cornerian military let up enough for her to come visit. She'd been sad when he dropped out of the engineering academy, and frightened when he'd shown up on Corneria three years later, a wounded she-wolf in tow, thugs from Macbeth on his tail, and a distinct evasiveness in his voice. The last thing she wanted was to be the one who handed down the order that finally separated the wild half-fennec's head from his shoulders.
Upon arriving at her apartment, Fara immediately went to the small bar she kept in her tiny living room, poured herself a gin and tonic, and sat down on the rust toned couch that was the only comfortable place to sit in the room, still obsessing over the dilemma her mind had manufactured.
She would call the Field Agents tomorrow. If the sleepers acted quickly, as they tended to, the overseer drones would have information on the thieves' location or locations sometime early in the day. Then, she would put in a request for whatever information the drones had on the targets. The things generally operated on a "need to know" basis, like most things in Dept. I (hell, only Peppy and the Prime Minister even knew she was in charge of the department), and only sent information on targets to agents who met criteria set by herself, General Hare, or the Prime Minister, in order of increasing priority. Fara wasn't always included on those lists when the other two officials controlled them, but she was usually permitted to look over whatever information she requested. She'd prove to herself that Kip wasn't one of the targets, and then she'd do her job, business as usual.
The vixen ran a hand through her sandy hair, and glanced down at the minute glass in her hand. With a swift motion, she downed the contents in one gulp. Even with the assurance she'd just given her mind, she knew the alcohol would probably be needed to keep her sleep peaceful.
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"Well, I'm certainly unlucky today" Kip muttered, rolling over on his back to get a good look at the hangar's ceiling as his brain recovered from the blow Wolf had just delivered to his head. The mercenary had come flying into the hangar almost immediately after Kip and Marl had disembarked from their damaged freighter, and before the smuggler could so much as greet him or thank him for his hospitality, Wolf had clocked him with a powerful right hook. He'd heard the mercenary mutter something along the lines of "consider that payment for past grievances", but Kip's ears had been ringing too much to be certain. The smuggler attempted to move his jaw, receiving a jolt of electricity to his pain receptors and a sickening "pop" from his bones for his efforts. Well, that was surprising. It had been a long time since somebody had come anywhere close to rattling Kip's cage like that. Slowly, he got back on his feet with a little help from Marl, who was grumbling something about "damn thugs" and casting a heated glance towards Wolf and his team. Feeling relatively steady again, the half-fennec took a good look at the infamous mercenary squad.
Because he was the only animal in the room without fur, Leon stood out like a sore thumb. The pale green, almost teal reptile stood several paces behind his boss, his face as expressive as a half-decayed corpse. Every second or so, he flipped one of the many throwing knives that he kept holstered in the bandolier he had strapped on over the loose black t-shirt he was wearing with a nimble flick of his wrist. Judging by the shirt and the black jogging pants with a single white stripe on the right leg he was wearing, the chameleon must have been working out when he'd gotten word of Kip and Marl's arrival. Unfortunately, that didn't make the sight of Leon Powalski, the most feared member of Star Wolf (after, perhaps, Wolf himself), catching a knife over and over again, alternating which end rested in his scaly palm, any less unsettling. Hell, the mere fact that the chameleon wore a bandolier full of throwing knives while working out was creepy enough. Kip got the distinct feeling that the reptile was sizing Marl and him up as potential targets, and suppressed a shiver.
A short distance to Wolf's right, a night black feline in a sleeveless green flight suit that could only be Panther Caruso sat, or more precisely lounged, on a sealed storage container, a rather lewd smirk on his face as he stared intently at the smugglers. No, Kip noticed, the panther was barely even noticing him; his attention was all but completely devoted to Marl. Well, perhaps he wasn't focusing on all of her; if the smuggler was tracing the cat's line of sight correctly, then he was mostly paying attention to the she-wolf's slightly larger than average chest region. Kip frowned, feeling the urge to shield his adopted sister from those wandering yellow eyes, or better yet, claw them out of the feline's skull. He wasn't about to deny that Marl was easy on the eyes, but Kip knew she didn't like to flaunt herself or be ogled. Her wardrobe consisted of her faded brown leather jacket that didn't quite reach her hips, khaki cargo pants that neither concealed nor flaunted the curve of the same, and a simple forest green shirt with a high neckline; hardly the style females who wanted the kind of attention the self proclaimed Casanova of Star Wolf was giving Kip's partner chose. The smuggler made a mental note to keep a close eye on the feline.
Oddly enough, the half-fennec noted, there was a fourth animal standing to Wolf's left, one he didn't recognize. The artic fox's icy eyes were glued to the smuggler's ship, and judging by the way they roved over the body of the vessel, Kip deduced that she had a mechanical background of some sort. In fact, something told him that she might be the technician responsible for booting him out of Sargasso's systems. Her clothing, however, told another story. Dressed in what looked for the world to be a black military officer's uniform, and looking quite comfortable in it, the vixen had clearly had some sort of connection to the military in the past. The only thing that didn't scream "business" about her was the gray t-shirt under her partially unbuttoned jacket, which sported a neckline low enough to expose a portion of her mid-size bust. That particular detail didn't make sense to the smuggler, considering her highly formal bearing, and he wondered if she wasn't trying to get a particular someone's attention with a sudden change of style. Truth be told, Kip thought, she was quite pretty, and he would have definitely made an effort to get to know her, had the circumstances been more favorable, but as it was he merely took a moment to subtly scan her figure. Just as his eyes refocused on her face, the vixen's eye's snapped to meet them, locking the smuggler's gaze in place. The frozen orbs didn't bear any perceivable hostility, though they weren't openly inviting him in either. If anything, there was a wary curiosity about them. Kip stared into them a moment longer before he began to feel a bit hot under the collar, and turned his gaze back to Wolf.
The mercenary captain's face was a mask of restrained hostility, and the steel tinted eyes the wolf kept trained on the smuggler and his partner gleamed with a repressed heat. Kip knew that one of the pair was biomechanic, but he could only guess which. Whoever built the eye must have been a pro, and been paid very well, to disguise the mechanical organ so well. The lupine mercenary's black flight suit and spiked shoulder pads made him look like he'd be at home in one of the speeder gangs that had often raised hell in the town Kip grew up in, but as the crushing blow the he had just delivered proved, Wolf O'Donnell was much more capable than those thugs could ever hope to be. The wolf's right hand clenched an unclenched slowly, and though his face didn't show it, Kip was pleased to note that the appendage looked more than a little sore at the moment.
"Didn't hurt your hand, did I, chief?" the smuggler asked, sounding innocent, though his sly smirk told otherwise.
Wolf grunted, and glanced down at his hand. "It's felt better, but it doesn't make the hit any less satisfying" he said, wiggling his fingers like he was testing their ability to move. "Either I'm slipping, or your jaw's made of something harder than bone."
Kip laughed heartily, and rapped his left hand against the side of his ship, and though it was muffled by the skin and fur covering his knuckles, the tone of metal on metal could be heard. "Skeletal reinforcements, chief" the smuggler confirmed, "they take most of the give out of the things. Oh, and you can thank the Aparoids for this beauty." The half-fennec rolled the right sleeve of the somewhat grime stained, white shirt that he wore under his unbuttoned, black vest to reveal a metallic appendage. "Damn near got infected when the bugs invaded Macbeth; had to have Marl here cut off the original to contain the spread" he finished, nodding towards his partner.
Wolf raised an eyebrow, and Kip hoped he hadn't played the wrong hand. That story had been intended to foster some respect from the mercenary for his resilience and determination, but the mercenary didn't seem so much impressed as slightly put off. "A neural interface, biomechanic eye, skeletal reinforcements, and a mechanical arm" the mercenary mused aloud. "So you're a modder?" he said more than asked.
Kip frowned. "That's what some folks call animals like me" he admitted.
Marl piped up, her resentment at the treatment she and Kip had received so far coming through loud and clear. "You have a problem with that, Wolf?"
"Oh ho ho, what a firebrand," Panther purred. "Panther does so enjoy it when they're a little on the picante side."
Marl and the white vixen's eyes both shot towards to the feline, the two displaying the exact same mix of revulsion and surprise with their expressions. The sight made it hard for Kip not to laugh, and Panther didn't even bother to try and stop himself. It seemed the big cat just didn't give a damn what the assembled crowd thought of him.
"Keep it in your pants, feline" Leon hissed, "wouldn't want to embarrass yourself in front of the newcomers with your inadequacies, now, would you?"
Panther glared at the reptile and crossed his arms. "Panther will have you know that he is more than adequate in any way you can imagine, Green One." A large black paw trailed its way to the panther's blaster holster, "Don't make him prove it to you."
Quicker than Kip could follow, a second knife appeared in Leon's other hand, and the reptile held both weapons by the blade, ready to be thrown. "Any time, cat, any time."
Now it was Kip's turn to raise an eyebrow. "Trouble on the home front Wolf?" the half fennec asked.
Wolf laughed and shook his head at the comment, then glanced over his shoulder at Leon. "Oh, that?" the mercenary captain scoffed. "The long lull in business has made the jibes a bit less friendly, but that's just how Leon and Panther tell each other 'I love you'" Wolf assured the smuggler. A musical titter escaped the white vixen at the comment, and though Leon's seemed more sincere than Panther's, both bickering animals glared indignantly at the back of Wolf's head.
Kip smiled, not sure what to think. He'd expected Star Wolf to be a bunch of no nonsense killers, but the group before him seemed more like a family. A slightly dysfunctional family with guns, perhaps, but a family nonetheless. Maybe Marl and he would leave this station in one piece, after all.
When Wolf had finished chuckling at Leon and Panther's expense, the mercenary turned back to Kip, seriousness once again controlling his face. "Seriously, though, Phoenix," he said, "I could care less if you're a modder. We've got a few other guys like you on the station," he explained, "and besides, we've got a policy on Sargasso: if it doesn't concern the station directly, nothing you've done before arriving here matters once you're in the hangar, and you leave your prejudices with whatever ship brought you here. We've got too many kinds of animals on this rig to deal with that kind of shit." He glanced at Marl, "So there's no need to get all defensive, little lady, ya hear? You're boyfriend isn't gonna get shot unless he gives me a damn good reason."
Marl blinked, likely as surprised by the Wolf's conversational tone as Kip was, and was slow to respond. "He's not my boyfriend," the she-wolf explained, "but… thank you, Wolf."
Wolf nodded, and shifted his gaze to Kip's freighter. "Well, she's seen better days, hasn't she?" he stated the obvious. The normally tan freighter was covered in scorch marks, a substantial bite had been taken out of one of the wings, and an ominous wisp of smoke was gathered around the lower starboard engine. Even worse, one of the auto turrets had been fried, and Kip knew that teaching the automatic gunner to work its replacement would be a real pain. "I don't suppose you have any spare parts on that thing?"
Kip shook his head, "They would've weighed us down. Other than our personal effects, the only things on board are the launchers and the maintenance droid. He's little more than a glorified tool box, but he's good for grunt work."
Wolf frowned and rubbed his chin, his eyes still glued to the ship. "Skadi," he finally asked, "how long do you think it'll take to return this thing to 100?"
The white vixen glanced at Wolf out of the corner of her eye, then gave the ship another once over with her piercing gaze. "It's hard to say without giving her a thorough check up," she said, equations and figures glimmering in her eyes, "but if the wing doesn't need to be replaced entirely, it will take at least a day to find the parts for it, and another full day's work to patch it up. That damaged engine and the turret will definitely need to be replaced, since I don't have parts for those particular models" she concluded. "Once we fix the rest of the damage, though, she will at least be space worthy again." She chewed on a strand of sky blue hair a moment. "I would say that a good four days of solid work, with a team of at least three mechanics, would get her into the ink again."
Wolf stared at the freighter a moment longer, than let out a long, resigned sigh and turned to face Skadi. "Make it happen," he ordered. "I want you and one of your best mechanics to help Phoenix work on it. Give him everything he needs to get the thing flying again, within reason." He then glanced back at the pair of smugglers, "you'll owe me for any parts that I don't feel the pauper's fare accounts for. No arguments."
Kip shrugged, "Beggars can't be choosers, chief. I just want to get back into the ink and out of your hair."
Leon piped up again, "How convenient. That's exactly what we want, too."
Wolf rolled his eyes just before Skadi spoke up. "Why must I help with the repairs, Wolf?" the arctic fox ventured. "I won't be able to maintain Star Wolf's fighters while I'm working on his freighter," she explained, gesturing towards Kip.
"You're going to help with the repairs," Wolf told the vixen, "because you're the only one I trust to ensure the job gets done in the estimated time." The wolf's face seemed to struggle with itself for a split second before breaking into a restrained, reassuring smirk. "Besides, the fighters have never been in better condition, thanks to you" he assured Skadi in a way that brokered no further argument. "They'll be fine for a few days without you."
Skadi smiled back at Wolf without hesitation, idly brushing her sky blue hair out of her eye. "Fine then," she said, a hint of red entering her cheeks "and… thank you for the vote of confidence, Wolf."
A light snapped on in Kip's brain as he witnessed the odd exchange between the two, and the smuggler suddenly had a good idea as to who the "particular someone" the vixen had her eye on was. He glanced at Wolf and mentally shrugged. At least it wasn't Leon.
Marl cleared her throat. "I hate to interrupt anything," she said, drawing curious glances from Wolf and Skadi, "but if we're going to be here for a while, I think Kip and I will need some lodgings. There are quarters on the ship, but I know I personally would prefer a proper room and bed for once."
Wolf flashed a fang filled grin at the she-wolf, and once again the look caused a sinking feeling in Kip's gut. "That's only fair" the mercenary agreed, "we'll set you up with a couple bunks. You can share a room with Skadi, Marl, so you'll have the necessary privacy."
Kip's muscles tensed. If Wolf managed to separate him and Marl, it would be that much more difficult for them to work together, or even communicate, and he undoubtedly knew it.
Marl apparently thought the same thing, for she immediately attempted to find a way out of the situation. "I wouldn't want to impose, Wolf" she held her hands out before her and smiled sweetly at the mercenary. "Kip and I share a room when we're on the ship. It's no big deal, really."
Wolf shook his head, not hearing any of it. "No dice, missy, we don't have any empty rooms. It's either bunk with Skadi, or one of the guys, and though Panther, I'm sure, would be more than happy to take you in…"
"Without a doubt, friend" Panther chimed in, grinning roguishly at Marl and winking seductively at her.
"… I doubt you want to share a room with him," Wolf finished, barely missing a beat. "Besides, Skadi's been the only lady on the station for a couple months now, and she could use the company." Wolf glanced at the snowy vixen, "Right?"
Skadi focused her attention on the she-wolf, and Kip thought she was looking at his partner in much the same way she'd been looking at his freighter. "It wouldn't be a bad thing" she admitted, "to have another female around." Her analysis complete, the vixen looked back at Wolf, "She's free to stay with me."
"Am I to assume I'll be sharing a room with you or Panther then, chief?" Kip ventured, hoping that the latter was the case. Based on first impressions, he preferred the cat's loose tongue to the wolf's veiled hostility.
The disconcerting grin continued to grace the lupine mercenary's face. "I'm afraid my place only has room for one," he said.
"Panther's room is the same," the big cat informed Kip. "And you don't have the, how you say… equipment, to share a set of sheets with him."
Well Kip was stumped. He could have sworn Wolf would want to keep him especially close, and here he was letting him stay with some no name henchman on the station.
"I think Leon here's been looking for a roommate, though," Wolf said, turning expectantly to the reptile. "Ain't that right, Leon?"
Shit, Kip thought. The scaly skinned animal had been so quiet, the smuggler had forgotten all about him. The half-fennec fought his body's urge to sweat bullets as he prayed for the second time that day, this time that the chameleon would be unable to house him. Hell, if things continued at this rate, he'd be a friggin priest by the end of the week.
The assassin's eyes did not so much as flicker in response, preferring instead to remain fixated on Kip. The smuggler had heard a story once, about how, before the various sentient species of the Lylat system abandoned their more primal instincts for technology and reason, that the only time a chameleon's armored eyes would focus on the same spot was when they were stalking prey, and were about to make a kill. "I can make room for him" the reptile confirmed, effectively shutting the trap around the half-fennec's neck, "if that is what you wish, old friend."
"It is," Wolf said, and Kip had to refrain from shouting "shit" out loud.
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"Pass me a brew, will ya, Vinnie?" A burly bulldog called from the other end of the security control room.
A gray fox, easily in his early fifties, sighed and moved his feet off the portable refrigerator unit that he'd been using as a footstool. He pulled a drink out of the cold box, hopped out of his chair, and walked over to where the bulldog was monitoring a flickering wall of camera feeds from all over the base. "Here you go, Chuck" he said, handing his companion the frosty can.
"Thanks, Vinny" Chuck said, popping the tab and taking a long slip of the can's bronze contents. "I swear I'd go stir crazy without a drink to help pass the time. This post is the pits, bro."
The gray fox couldn't deny that the bulldog was right. Of all the posts a security worker could draw on Sargasso , security control was the worst, and the fact that no one wanted the job was the main reason why their boss had started rotating the posts bi-weekly. Sweeping his eyes across the wall of monitors, Vinny's eyes stopped on a particularly pleasant image and grinned. Well, maybe the job had a few advantages, if you were into that sort of "entertainment". "Bit of eye candy on camera fifteen, Chuck."
Chuck flicked a couple switches on his console, and an enlarged image of the camera in question appeared on a screen embedded in it. The two animals were presented with a view of hangar four, where Star Wolf was "welcoming" the two smugglers who had caused such a ruckus almost an hour ago now, but the soldiers weren't interested so much in that. Rather, Vinnie drew his comrade's attention to the right hand side of the shot, where their boss, the artic fox everyone knew as Skadi, was standing straight as a board, her back to the camera. The bulldog chuckled delightedly, took control of the camera, and zoomed in for a close up of the vixen's rump, outlined perfectly for them by her form fitting military pants.
The bulldog let out an appreciative whistle. "Damn, but the boss is a fine bit o' stuff, ain't she, Vinn? It's a pity she's got Wolf's protection, or I wouldn't hesitate to put an arm around that waist of hers, lemme tell you."
"You and me both, old chum," Vinnie chuckled, eyes on the screen, though in truth he could care less. He'd lost his wife in the Lylat Wars, and hadn't really looked at a female the same way since. Chuck, however, was still a pup, by comparison, and Vinnie knew that life on the run hadn't been easy for the bulldog. He'd come to see Chuck as a foster son of sorts, and as such he tried to do what he could to keep the canine as content as possible. He wished some of the boy's tastes in entertainment were a bit more refined, but then again female company was hard to come by when your life was a series of layovers and hideouts, so he couldn't really blame the pup for enjoying the sight.
Chuck moved to pan the camera up a bit to get a better view of the vixen's back just as the room's one door opened to admit a frazzled ape, who appeared about the same age as Vinny.
"Guys!" the ape panted, placing his hands on his knees to steady himself. He attempted to tell the pair something, but it came out in a jumble of indecipherable half-words and gasps.
"Try taking a breath or two before talking, Lucas" Chuck suggested to the ape, shaking his head in annoyance. "Besides, aren't you supposed to be working in communication's this week?"
Lucas took the bulldog's advice, and after a few moments, started over, unhooking a PDA from his belt as he spoke. "We just got called up," the ape began, immediately grabbing Vinny and Chuck's attention. "I got a message while Wolf was talking to the smuggler, but I waited to check it until he left." The ape looked up at the soldiers, fear evident in his eyes. "It's the Cornerians; they want us to capture or eliminate those two smugglers, and their ship while we're at it! What should we do?"
Vinny and Chuck glanced at each other, mirror images of shock written on their faces. They'd all known when they'd made a deal with the Cornerians in exchange for their freedom that they might be called to do something like this, but now that the task was staring them in the face, neither of them was sure what they should do.
Lucas looked back and forth between the two animals expectantly. "Guys?" he asked.
Vinnie scratched his head before proposing an idea. "Couldn't we just ignore the call? I mean, we made the deal over a decade ago, there's no way they still have their eyes on us, right? Offing those smugglers means crossing Wolf. The guy's been pretty damn good to us, and I don't want to ruin what, honestly, is a pretty sweet gig."
Lucas shook his head. "No dice, Vinn. The mere fact that they sent us orders means a few things:" The ape began to tick off points on his hand, "the tracking chips we consented to having planted inside us when we made the deal are still active, otherwise they wouldn't even know we're alive; secondly, if the chips are active, they know where we are, and worst of all, they'll be expecting reports."
Chuck uttered a muffled curse, and Vinny grimaced. Lucas had always been the resident gearhead of the trio, so there was no reason to doubt the ape's reasoning when it came to technology. "Couldn't we just pretend we didn't see them or something?" the bulldog asked. "There's no way the chip's can tell them if we're lying, can they?"
Lucas scratched his chin, deep in thought. "True," the ape agreed, "but that doesn't mean they won't have ways of finding out without us. We might not even be the only sleepers on Sargasso," he reminded the two animals, "and if another tells them the smugglers are here, and we don't confirm it, our asses will go before the firing squad for breaking the agreement, and that scenario doesn't even account for spy drones, Field Agents, or any of the other tricks Dept. I could use to find out we're lying to them!" the ape practically shouted in his panic
Vinnie leaned against the console, the gears in his head spinning at breakneck speeds. He took pride in staying a step ahead of his foes, numerous as they may be, and the number of variables here was certainly making the task more difficult than usual. He'd need to act fast, though, before Lucas became completely hysterical, as was his nature.
"Well, that settles it, then," Chuck crossed his hands over his gut and leaned back. "I say we just figure out a way to off the punks quietly. We don't owe them nothing," he reasoned, "and I doubt Wolf's going to shed any tears over a couple of smugglers, especially if he can't prove anything."
Vinnie raised an eyebrow at his companion. "You're the one who just lamented Wolf's tendency to protect folks" the fox commented, "and now you think he's going to just let two folks he's agreed to harbor get axed? Pardon my saying, but that's plain crazy. He'll lock down the whole station and torture every last animal on it before he lets a murder on his watch go unpunished."
"You got a better idea, Vinn?" The bulldog demanded, clearly insulted.
The vulpine sighed, not sure if he did. When he'd made the deal, he'd told himself it would just be one task. He'd told himself it wouldn't be something too hard to stomach. He'd told himself he could swallow his pride, just once. Now, he realized just how big a lie he told himself. Every fiber of his being was resisting the idea of doing the Federation a favor, of lending a hand to the political machinery that had broken his world like a cheap toy. He couldn't do it. He wouldn't do it. It would only hurt more people.
A dark cloud fell over the old fox's mind. It might be his last run, but goddammit, he was going to do something. Vincent Morello would go out shooting. He turned his burning, but still tired looking olive eyes on Lucas. "We're going to communications" he declared, a hint of a snarl in his voice. "It's time we gave our 'masters' a call."
Lucas's eyes nearly popped out of his head. "You're not going to lie to them, are you? I already explained how risky that was!"
Vinnie shook his head. "Not exactly," the gray vulpine clarified, "though I honestly think backstabbing Star Wolf to any extent is even more risky. It's not all settled yet, and a bit of it depends on what happens when I contact the Cornerians, so I'll fill you in on the whole thing after I make the call." The vulpine flashed a confident, toothy smirk as the plan continued to solidify in his mind. "Rest assured, though, that the Cornerian's ain't getting what they want; not from us, at least."
"Have you lost your bleeding mind, Vinn?" Chuck added his two cents. "This ain't some two bit crime lord you're tryin to outfox here, pardon the pun. This is fucking Cornerian black ops!" the bulldog cried.
The vulpine's grin grew in response. "Maybe, Chuck." The heavy shadows of weariness began to creep into the corners of his eyes again. "I've made dumb choices; more than my fair share," he admitted, "and I'll admit this may end up being the worst one yet." Fire began to crackle in his voice as he continued, "All the same, political machines, of all types, have never done me a lick a good, and I know your stories ain't all that different." Vinnie's eyes took on a faraway gleam. "I owe at least an effort at this to a lot of people, Wolf included for giving an old timer like me a place to lay his head at night." His gazed shifted from Chuck to Lucas and back again. "You've trusted me so far, and you know I don't leave men behind. One more time, that's all I ask."
Chuck's face blanked for several seconds, and then he finally grinned. "Quite a speech, Vinn" the bulldog crowed, "Quite a speech, I'm sold! Let's turn the tables on 'em so fast, the wind knocks 'em over!"
Lucas was much less enthusiastic. "All right," the ape decided, "I'll go along with it, for now. I don't like it, though" he warned.
Vinnie chuckled. Lucas never did like the plan before it got well underway, and that was a double edged sword. It meant the ape could give an "outside" opinion on matters, having mentally distanced himself from it, but it also meant he might take matters into his own hands if the plan didn't yield tangible results within a reasonable time period. That was the last thing the fox needed right now. With that thought fresh in his brain, he walked back to the chair he'd been using, and grabbed a worn, dark grey jacket with red shoulder patches that was hanging on the back of it. He slipped it on, revealing two modified Imperial Army of Venom insignias that were embroidered on the area covering the right side of his chest and the left sleeve. The patch on the chest had three red slash marks patched on over the black fang enclosed in a circle, as if the symbol had been mauled by an enraged beast, while the fang on the sleeve had been largely obscured by a great red star. If he had to play at being the Cornerians' slave, he thought, he'd at least dress like a free man. "Let's move it," the gray fox ordered. "It's time to make the piper pay."