Just a short notice: I do not own any characters of Star Fox, but any OC in this story is most exclusively a product of my imagination.

Author's note/ brief introduction: This story takes place in an alternate universe in which much of modern human history has taken place on a galactic scale. Both world wars, as we know them today, were fought across the cosmos, and as such the battles and the setting of the wars themselves have taken a much darker turn. And now, I believe the proper year/setting for this story would be circa 1950; in the beginning years of the West-Soviet/Sino Cold War, and the Lylat System is fumbling in a state of confusion caused by the contradiction of human ideals forced upon them by the United States and the Soviet Union. The purpose behind this story is to introduce political and nationalistic ideals to the Star Fox universe to see how the various characters act and react under those unfamiliar circumstances. Curious? Read on!

Badlander

Chapter One: A New Day

In the black gulf of space the hum of the engines nurtured him in his dreamless sleep. Images of friends, family, wishes or desires did not disturb his slumber. His sleep was blank, like the vacuum of the interstellar space around the grey carrier warship which now traveled faster than light toward its destination. The humming stopped and he awoke.

We're here, he silently mused as he rose to start a new day, a word which was a foreign concept among inhabitants of a starship. Days were merely based on numerical increments of time from a home world hundreds of light years away, of a people who did not know he ever existed.

He looked himself in the mirror of his personal quarters and reminded himself: I am a pilot. He rose and put on his dark green flight suit and retrieved a box of the newly branded instant oatmeal from one of the upper cabinets. He took a packet from the box and placed it into the microwave, activating a subroutine that cooked the cereal packet until it was perfect and warm.

As the food cooked he surveyed the cluttered space which was his alone. A small, lone bed stood mere feed from him, along with a small mirror, dresser, hanging space, a table and a chair, all condensed into a metallic blue room. Under the bed, his saxophone gleamed warmly in spite of its owner's negligence.

This represented the single largest private living space he had occupied since he was a child growing up in a Depression orphanage and his subsequent life scavenging on the streets. He grimaced at the thought of his childhood and returned his attention to the microwave's dull beeping. He retrieved the packet and emptied it into a bowl before slumping down in the chair to eat although he was not hungry. The food was tasteless and he wished more than anything that he had good food.

Wishes are for children, he remarked somberly as he got rid of the bowl and exited his quarters.

Once I get down to the planet, he thought as he began to walk, I'll have to see about getting a nice juicy bacon cheeseburger. His stomach growled in protest. Okay, okay. With extra cheesy bacon fries too. There. Happy? His stomach purred contentedly and he let a small smile play about his face.

"Captain Gideon Waller United States Air Force. Step forward!"

At the mention of his name, he stepped out from the organized crowd of Navy, Marine, and Air Force pilots and awaited instruction. He had to clench his fists to keep his cold blue eyes from darting away from the announcing officer in nervousness.

"Captain Waller," a tall, graying man with chiseled facial features spoke, "I have reviewed your personnel files and have decided that you are qualified to head our mission against the spread of communism in the Lylat System. Report to Hanger Bay 4 at 0700 tomorrow morning for briefing and transport to the Cornerian Air Defense Academy where you will be training the local pilots. Dismissed!"

So that was how it happened, Gideon mused. A simple order and flick of the authoritative wrist or two and he was on his way flying alongside the first transport down to Corneria. He had been told the assignment was a great honor – the first American to train aliens in the art of waging aerial warfare. But he found it unsettling that his first contact with another race should constitute a violent nature. He shrugged off the thought as he piloted his silver-yellow P-51 Mustang into the warm blue depths of Corneria's skies.

He heard the gentle hum of the communications system as the Cornerian operators acknowledged his approach.

"This is the Cornerian Air Defense Academy," a woman's voice spoke alluringly over the communications equipment and Gideon had to remind himself that the "woman" who was speaking to him probably didn't even remotely resemble a human. The voice continued, "Uh, we're picking you up on the IFF. Captain Waller, you are cleared for approach and landing on Runway 3."

"Yeah, like I know where that is, you damned dirty animal…" he grumbled unintentionally.

"Oh, I see tough guy, you're in for a little bit of prick waving." The feminine voice suddenly took on a flustering tone, "How 'bout this: let me hit the runway lights for you. Oh, wait - humans have bad eyesight so that won't work during the day. But I'll do it anyway because I'm awesome. Have fun!" The communication link went dead.

Gideon sighed angrily and briefly entertained the thought of firing a volley of energy blasts and annihilating that godforsaken control tower. He let a maniacal grin play about his face as he imagined enacting his private dark joke as his fighter rocketed across the skies.

"Oh god, Hazel. Really? You can't keep it together for two seconds? " A blue male avian shook his head as he chastised the reddish vixen at the controls. Orange light from the Lylatian sun filtered upon them through the tinted windows of the CADA control tower.

Her pretty amber eyes widened in mock astonishment, "But he called me an animal, Falco! The human'll be lucky if I don't punch him square in the jaw once he lands."

"Woah, okay missie," Falco exclaimed, raising his arms and smirking with his long, yellow beak. "Heh, and I thought I was the hothead!"

Hazel sighed and ignored the comment. "What's so important about this human anyway? Haven't they caused enough damage here already?" Her eyes grew dark as she leaned to look at the floor, considering some distant memory silently.

Hazel's silent pondering was not lost on Falco, but he was didn't wish to bring it up for fear that it would hurt his friend. He leaned in close and spoke, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Well, this guy Waller was supposed to be some big shot pilot back when the humans had their Great War Two and the Americans were still fighting the Nazis and the Japanese. The dude downed over a hundred enemy fighters and rumor has it he single-handedly responsible for ending the war. Now, Pepper wants him here to help train us to fight the Commies. Big deal, eh?"

"God, I could go right back to fighting Andross and his devious schemes for system-wide domination right about now!" Hazel exclaimed, eliciting a short chuckle from Falco. He was relieved that his friend was back in good mood.

"Well after Fox rescued Krystal and got rid of Andross a part of me was kind've disappointed that the dumb ape was finally rotting in hell, because it meant that Star Fox would have no one left to fight. Then we got the Aparoids. And now we have the Communists-" Falco paused when his friend's face suddenly grew dark, "I'm just saying you should be careful what you wish for." He amended, cursing his stupid beak for dimming the mood.

Hazel nodded. "Wishes are for children," she whispered silently. She spoke up, "Still, it feels so strange having an alien come down here to teach us the ropes, especially after the Americans bought half the planet after our little Aparoid debacle. Waller probably doesn't know anything about us, hell, he's partially responsible for this mess we're in now. And now he's going to be teaching us how to fight. I don't like it." She sighed, "What are you doing down here anyway?"

Falco grinned in spite of the serious turn of their conversation. "Well, military pilots aren't the only ones Pepper wants under the good alien Captain's wing. We mercenaries, the paragons of true capitalism, must learn the ways of our alien overlords to combat the Red Menace. Fox hates it." He emphasized the last sentence, sending them both bowling over with laughter.

They calmed down a bit and Hazel nodded again. "I wish the guy would lighten up a bit. He always seems so stressed. Whenever any of us on the base sees him on teleview, he looks like he's aged ten years each time. We worry about him."

Falco smiled sadly. His good friend Fox McCloud was often too serious for his own good, but when push came to shove, Falco considered his friend to be among the greatest men he had ever known, though he would never admit it out loud. "Yeah, he's been through a lot," Falco spoke softly, "but this whole situation with the humans coming here and starting a war between Cornerians is tearing him apart."

Hazel sighed and her ears perked up. The unsubtle beeping of the Air Proximity Scanner filled the small control room. "I guess that's the human," she sighed and stood up. Falco followed the reddish vixen excitedly out the door. Since the Aparoids were defeated and the humans came down to Corneria with their little political ideologies, it wasn't every day Falco had a chance to be surprised.

"This is Captain Waller, call-sign Badlander, starting approach." He spoke over the communications equipment as he prepared to land on the narrow stretch of runway that was Runway 3. He thought with disapproval about Command's wishes for him to perform an old-fashioned landing rather than utilizing the vertical takeoff and landing engines. They had wanted him to impress the local pilots.

Anything for king and country, he thought sarcastically and throttled down, sending his majestic silver fighter gliding toward the black pavement that awaited his arrival like an unfulfilled prophecy.

The landing went smoothly despite the narrow terrain. As he scooted his fighter to a stop at the entrance to one of the nearby hangars, he could once more hear the loud roar of the Mustang's engines. God, he loved that sound. Silently, he imagined he was back in space, flying to the outer edges of the galaxy, with no war or Cold War for that matter to distract him from the comfort of his endless wanderings. Perhaps under those circumstances he could find some measure of peace within the dark chasm of his own soul. But wherever he went, war and death always followed. It was inevitable.

Movement outside of his cockpit brought him back into the land of the living. He sighed and shut off the fighter's engines, which died slowly as if to protest his action. He pushed a few buttons, detaching the lower half of the cockpit from the plane as the transparent lid hissed open. Warm air entered his lungs and the new morning sun radiated cozily against his cold face. It was time to start a new day.

A/N: Hey, I'm sorry about the lack of action in this first chapter, but it was necessary to set up the scenario and introduce some of the characters. I promise there will be action, dogfights, and political conflicts in the coming chapters. I thank you for reading, and if you have any feedback for my story, please rate and review. I learn more from one criticism than I can ever learn from silence.