A/N: Just a a couple of quick notes here. This is all new stuff. After this, five and six are heavily modified versions of ones you've seen before, but once we hit seven, we're in uncharted territory. I want to thank everyone for sticking around, and especially those of you who have been reviewing. I really appreciate it :)

And second, this is an OC heavy chapter. And by OC heavy, I mean literally everyone is an OC. This is also a chapter that I used to indulge my desire to world build for the Ascended Universe (which is what you're reading with First Generation), so, characters like Jack and Agnus Vulpine show up mainly because I wanted an excuse to introduce them and set them up for later stories. And, well, I just love reading their lines in a very nasally, JFK Bostonian accent.

That said, there's plenty of plot relevance in this chapter. I won't tell you what it is, but there's some very important things being mentioned here, that will come up again in later chapters.

Now, with that out of the way, enjoy a fresh new chapter, and I'll see you for the next one next Friday!

Chapter Four

Brahmins, Politicians, and Tinkerers

"I hate parties," Argus muttered to himself as he shut the door to his car, stowing the keys in his pocket. He looked up at the towering mansion. Done in Cornerian Classic, the mansion stood in stark contrast to the more preferred New Modern style. Rather than the clean, functional lines, glimmering glass, and shimmering steel of most modern buildings, the Brahmin Vulpine House was made of white marble, with high fluted columns, and tall, narrow windows. Carefully manicured gardens surrounded it, making Argus wonder if every blade of grass, every flower petal, had been minutely adjusted by the most obsessive compulsive gardener the Vulpine family could find. He shrugged to himself, not wanting to bother thinking too much about it.

A short gravel path led from the driveway where he'd parked his car to the house. Argus' footsteps made a loud crunching noise as he walked up to the door. Pausing for a moment he looked back into the well lit night, and wondered briefly if he was the last to arrive. Turning back to the door, made of wood, oak if he had to bet on it, he lifted his hand and gave several soft, polite knocks. He knew there was a party going on inside, the noise of sophisticated, tasteful string instruments floating out through an open window nearby, the music accenting the numerous murmured conversations that Argus' fennec ears could already pick up. Despite the noise though, pressure sensors linked to the door would inform the doorman of the arrival of another guest. The door opened.

Standing tall and dour in the entryway, the timber wolf butler looked down at Argus. Not for the first time, Argus felt distinctly aware of his height. Or lack thereof. "Argus Phoenix, I believe I'm on the guest list." Despite the size differential Argus' voice was firm and confident. Though aware of his height, Argus never allowed larger species to use it against him, whether intentionally or not.

The butler looked down at a small tablet held in the crook of his arm, scrolled through a list of names, and then nodded. "Welcome to Vulpine House, of the Brahmin Class for three hundred years at midnight tonight."

How utterly unimpressive, Argus thought silently to himself, walking forward as the butler ushered him in. The door shut behind him and the timber wolf announced his name, giving Argus a chance to look around. He felt severely underdressed in his button down, slacks, and sweater vest. At least he'd remembered a bowtie. Coat tails? These people really do live in a different century. The parlor the guests were milling about in, eating finger sandwiches and sipping expensive champagne, was massive. Paintings hung on the walls, grim and, occasionally, happy portraits of the Vulpine family through the generations. A brigadier general here, a Federation Council Member there, but more often than not just another fox who had inherited a fortune, and managed to die without spending it all.

Once he'd been announced, Argus started to join the mingle. He smiled, exchanged a bit of small talk, and mostly focused on being seen by as many people as possible, without leaving too lasting an impression on any of them. He wanted to get out of here just as soon as he could without being rude. He did his best to avoid the topic of the Cornerian inheritance tax, and Federation estate tax, which had both been raised last month with the help of some quiet lobbying from his own company, on the provision that part of the new income go into grants for research and development, which companies like his typically benefited from. Amazing the amount of wealth they sit on, none of which they've earned, and they still have the gall to complain about giving just a little more back to society. Or, at least, to companies like mine that are improving society. Ostensibly. I think I better shut up before I actually say something monumentally stupid.

From one group to the next he moved, his smile not fixed in place, but ready to be called up at a moment's notice. He listened to names, dodged questions, and did his best to remember important details about the moderately more important individuals he met, in case they came in handy later. Then, just as Argus was talking to a rather beautiful vixen of...low cut taste, he heard a deep, rumbling voice from behind him that truly did make him smile. "Argus Phoenix? I thought I saw a pair of ears poking above the crowd."

Turning around, his tail giving a slow wag, Argus looked up at an absolute beast of a man. His white fur, grey spots, and long, fluffy tail, identified him as a snow leopard, a species native to the frozen, but mineral rich world of Fichina in Lylat's outer orbit, and the newest members of the Lylat Federation. "Cedwyn Llewellyn, I didn't expect to see you here."

Grinning, and pulling the much smaller Argus into a hug that nearly crushed the fennec, Cedwyn Llewellyn said, "You're a terrible liar."

Once his feet made contact with the ground again, Argus arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you saying I've been invited here for any reason other than to enjoy a..." Argus looked around at the other party-goers, all of them maintaining polite, and sometimes engaging conversation. No dancing, at least not yet, though presumably that too would be a restrained affair, done in traditional dances, to music equal parts classic and boring. "Well, alright, I suppose you caught me."

Cedwyn laughed, loud enough that he drew a few strange glances from people nearby. Peering over Argus' shoulder, the snow leopard said, "If you'll excuse us miss."

The vixen curtsied politely and shuffled off to find different company. Argus looked after her briefly, his eyes drifting down to look at the way her tail swayed as she walked, calling attention to an attractive pair of hips. "I wouldn't bother," Cedwyn said, putting an arm over Argus' shoulder and guiding him out of the parlor. "Too thin."

Argus blushed. "I suppose I am being a bit obvious. And, too thin? Really?"

Cedwyn chuckled. "Yes really. I prefer women with something to hold onto. But then I have big hands. If you need company though, I'm sure a man of your wealth wouldn't have too hard a time finding it."

"I want a relationship, not a hooker," Argus grumbled. "And one that has nothing to do with my money."

"Good luck." Cedwyn shook his head. They had left the parlor and the-Argus hesitated to call them partiers-behind, moving into the more private areas of the house. They stopped in front of a doorway, ornately carved with scenes from the Vulpine's family history. Argus scanned them briefly, wondering just how impressed he needed to be in order to be polite. Honestly, Brahmins had far too high an opinion of themselves and their importance. Cedwyn turned the knob and walked into the room without the slightest hesitation. "We can talk privately here."

Argus glanced around, and this time he actually was impressed. They were in what appeared to be the family library. Book cases lined three of the four walls, each of them reaching from floor to ceiling, and filled to the brim with real, physical books. Argus' nose twitched at the lovely aroma of old leather bindings and well aged ink and paper. Making no effort to hide his astonishment, he approached one of the shelves and glanced at the titles, reaching out to brush the tips of his fingers against some of the volumes. "Amazing."

Walking over to a table set against the room's large window, Cedwyn reached for a glass bottle and cup and poured himself a glass of amber liquid. "Most of those volumes aren't in physical print anymore. I've been told you can download most of them, but a few you can't find anywhere outside of a rare bookstore. And even that isn't a sure thing." Lifting the glass to his muzzle, Cedwyn took a sip, swallowed, and sighed appreciatively. "I've spent hours reading in here."

Turning around, tail swishing behind him in amusement, Argus said, "You? Read? Now that is amazing."

Eyes alight with his perpetual good humor, Cedwyn said, "Foxes. Doesn't matter the type, all of you are sassy."

"We do try to be," Argus replied, taking a seat on one of the couches. Cedwyn sat down opposite him, the two separated by a coffee table filled mostly with neatly stacked magazines. "So, what's up, because I know you're the only reason I'm on the guest list."

Nodding, Cedwyn said, "Sharp as ever. I keep telling you to run for office."

"Since I'm so sharp, what does it tell you about the fact that I haven't?" Argus teased.

"That you're still not as sharp as me," Cedwyn replied, managing to hold a straight face for a grand total of three seconds. The two of them shared a good laugh, then Cedwyn brought them back to business mode. "The Arwing is going to be under budget review sometime in the next few months. I wanted to let you know that, barring some catastrophe, I should be able to prevent any cuts. Might even get an increase. If it's needed." Cedwyn emphasized that last word.

"I always need budget increases," Argus replied, serious. "I'm not just building the military a new fighter craft, I'm inventing a whole new generation of spaceships. The G-Diffuser..."

Cedwyn held up a hand, his tail flicking next to him on the couch. "Spare me the sales pitch, you know I'm already sold. But you oughta know, Thema Corp is lobbying very hard to get their Spitflak MK II approved. And they've got a lot of pull on the Council right now, especially since they're offering a contract with us for development and manufacture that is a fraction of what the Arwing is costing us."

Argus bit back his initial reply, which would have leaned heavy on harsh language and ridicule. Thema Corp had been the dominant provider of ships and fighters to the Federation military for over fifty years, and they were none too happy about Space Dynamics encroaching on what they considered to be their territory. "You know the only reason they can build and design for less is because they'll be relying on I-Diffuser technology. I'm offering revolution, they're providing status quo. A status quo that'll be outdated in five, ten, fifteen years at the most."

Reaching up, Cedwyn scratched the soft fur beneath his chin. "We've been using I-Diffusers for generations Argus. I doubt anything is going to replace them quite that fast."

"That's because you're a politician, not an engineer," Argus groused. "You're used to change coming at a glacial pace. I don't have that luxury, and when it comes to military technology, you don't have it either. I'm telling you, the I-Diffuser is on the way out, and you don't want to be stuck behind the curve when it goes."

"Mmm." Cedwyn sighed. "Like I said, you do have me convinced. It's a question of the rest of the relevant Council members. And, I'll be honest, the Arwing has been getting some bad press recently. It's being called corporate welfare over how huge the budget is. Now don't get me wrong, the Federation, and Cornerians especially, love welfare, but not for corporations. So we're both walking on thin ice with this."

"It's hardly welfare considering Space Dynamics can survive without this contract," Argus argued. "Our bottom line is healthy, and we've carved out a nice, profitable niche in the civilian market."

"I'm just letting you know that that's the attack line against the Arwing at the moment," Cedwyn replied, taking another sip from his glass before setting it down on the coffee table between them. "Whether or not it'll actually be effective is a whole different argument. I wouldn't worry too much at the moment though. Like I said, barring a catastrophe of some sort, the contract is safe for at least another year. It'd be nice if you could have it done by then, though."

Argus adopted a noncommittal expression. "We'll see."

"There was something else I wanted to ask about, before we get to the main reason I brought you here," Cedwyn told him, taking a sip from his glass. "Do you want some? It's very good."

"I'm driving, thanks." Argus shook his head.

Cedwyn shrugged, then said, "I wanted to ask," he leaned forward, his voice becoming a bit more hushed, "How are things coming with the Gate?"

A faint smile crossed over Argus' features. The Interdimensional Warp Transfer Gate, referred to simply as the Gate, was the other top secret project that Argus, Beltino, and a few other hush hush brain cases at Space Dynamics and a few government research labs were working on for the Federation. "Slowly," Argus replied in the same hushed tone. "Though I do have some promising news." Cedwyn stared at him with rapt attention. "We conducted our first successful lab test with the new prototype."

"Amazing!" Cedwyn pumped his fist in the air. As a member of the influential Research and Development caucus the Gate project had been one of his top priorities. It had also been the one priority he couldn't talk about in public. In fact, the only reason Cedwyn knew about it in the first place had been because he was the ranking member of the Council Budgetary Committee. From what he had told Argus, after seeing the money flying out the window he'd confronted the President, and the administration had been forced to tell him. His reaction had been more or less that of an eighth grade science project winner. Argus loved that about him.

"Calm down, we only sent a single cesium atom a distance of ten millimeters," Argus told him, though his tail wagged at recounting the success.

"But things are progressing?" Cedwyn asked, his enthusiasm not dampered in the slightest.

"Yes. Slowly, but yes."

"Hot damn. You talk about G-diffusers and all but this, this could totally change the way we see the galaxy," Cedwyn gushed. "Until now we've been limited to our own local cluster. True, we did try colonizing the Expanse a century ago, but the logistics of it were just beyond our technology. Even with modern warp drives and communications relays, the prospect is so daunting and resource intensive there doesn't seem to be much point. If this works though, we're talking about crossing interstellar distances in the snap of a finger. And that, that will change the game forever."

"You're oversimplifying a bit," Argus cautioned. "But in principle, there is that potential."

A big grin split Cedwyn's features. "Argus?"

"Yes?"

"Are you sure you aren't thinking of running for office? Because you're equivocating like an Assemblyman at a town hall."

Rolling his eyes, Argus said, "Was there another reason you asked me here, or did you just want to insult me?"

"You say it as if you don't enjoy it." Cedwyn chuckled. "But yes, I wanted you to meet a couple of people. In fact, they should be coming in any minute now."

As if on cue, the door to the library opened and a nasally voice said, "Cedwyn, what are you doing in here?"

"Yes, the party is outside," a second, much more feminine voice added.

Cedwyn stood up and gestured subtly for Argus to do the same. Turning around, Argus arched an eyebrow. Standing in the doorway were two foxes of medium height, their deep brown eyes sparkling with intelligence, and an upward tilt to their muzzles that managed to say both that they noticed the smell of the unwashed masses, but that it didn't bother them in the slightest. Standing next to each other, it was clear the two of them were siblings, and twins at that. Argus noted the similar body language, and the near identical features. The only major difference between them seemed to be their sexes. The one on the left, slightly taller, with a classically handsome look, was male, while on the right stood a vixen who, though striking, didn't quite manage to be overwhelmingly beautiful. Despite that, Argus sensed that no one had any trouble remembering her after she left a room.

Stepping forward, and motioning for the two foxes to enter the room, Cedwyn said, "Argus, I'd like you to meet Jack and Agnus Vulpine."

The names clicked immediately. Argus kicked himself for not putting two and two together. Though perhaps he could be forgiven, considering how many families, several of them Brahmins, on Corneria were saddled with the all too generic name of Vulpine. "Aren't you two both running for the Assembly? Corneriapolis Province?"

"Someone remembered us, we must finally be making headway," Agnus said, stepping forward and holding out her hand. "I tell you it's this name of ours. Utterly unmemorable. It's why we're putting our first names on all our campaign advertising."

Argus took her hand and shook, noting the firm, confident grip. Her brother Jack walked over and said, "She's lucky enough to have an interesting, less common name these days. Jack is hardly much better." He shook Argus' hand as well, gracing the fennec with a dazzling smile. "You know Cedwyn has told us quite a bit about you."

"Oh really?" Argus glanced at the snow leopard. "Good things, I hope."

"Very good," Agnus told him. "And don't worry, we won't ask for a phone number for donations."

"Thank you," Argus said, relief in his voice. "You have no idea how many of those calls I'm getting." Then, out of curiosity, "Is there any reason you aren't asking me though?"

Jack answered, "Our family has more money than we know what to do with. And since Cornerian campaign advertising is allocated equally between candidates, we don't have nearly the expenses that we'll have when we run for Council seats."

"Or president," Cedwyn mentioned.

Argus eyebrow went up again. "Are you grooming them?"

Cedwyn shook his head. "Just advising. Though they have quite the future ahead of them, if I'm allowed to say so."

"Cedwyn is being modest," Agnus said, looking at the older man admonishingly. "He gave us our start after he heard us doing a speech for a local non-profit we've been working for."

Jack chuckled. "As I recall he said my nasal voice would be my biggest asset in public speaking."

"It's distinctive," Cedwyn said. "Corneria City's late night hosts are already imitating it."

"A somewhat dubious honor," Agnus said.

"But an honor nonetheless," Jack added.

Argus shook his head. These two were naturals. And far more personable than he had expected given their social class. It wasn't any wonder to him now why they'd chosen to run as a packaged deal. They clearly worked well enough together that they could finish each other's thoughts. Argus decided he'd have to keep a closer eye on them than he had been. It wouldn't hurt to have some close relationships with up and coming politicians in the Cornerian Assembly. Planetary government could have almost as much effect on his business as the larger Federation government.

Glancing down at his watch Argus noted the time to himself, then said, "Well, I hate to say it but I better be going."

"Do you have a date?" Cedwyn asked, looking at Argus suspiciously.

"Uh, no." Argus eyed the snow leopard, wondering why he'd asked that question.

"Late night meeting?"

"No."

"Conference call?"

"Again, no." Argus noticed the twins trying to hide their smiles.

"Well then, you're not going anywhere. Except back out to the party." Cedwyn put his arm around Argus' shoulders again and started guiding him out of the library. "And I'll see if I can find you a date while we're out there."

"That's really not necessary," Argus protested, realizing from the firm grip Cedwyn was maintaining that there would be no escape.

"A one night stand then. You really do seem tense," Cedwyn told him.

"Cedwyn..." Jack said, his tone holding a bit of mild reproach. "What have we told you about trying to fix people up at these parties?"

"Right, that that's not why people come to them. Brahmins. I'll never understand you." Cedwyn shook his head.

Jack and Agnus rolled their eyes affectionately, then put on their best smiles as the four of them rejoined the party. Argus did the same, resigning himself to a night of boring conversation, sedate music, but, at least, very expensive champagne.

"Archer! Archer! Breakfast!"

"Ugh." Archer Lynx opened his eyes and ran a hand down his face. Why did they have to have breakfast so damn early? "Coming!"

Throwing off the covers, Archer stretched his burly arms and started to stand up, forgetting that there was a bunk bed right above him. His forehead made direct and hard contact with it, prompting a pained yelp. "Ow! Fuck!" Rubbing his head he managed to extricate himself, staring bitterly at the top bunk where his older brother Gerald used to sleep. Archer had vivid memories of his brother hanging over the side and just staring at him until he woke up, never failing to scare the crap out of the younger Archer. At least he'd stopped once Archer had gotten old enough to grab him by the neck and throw him down to the floor.

Sunlight was just peeking through the blinds of his bedroom window, but it still wasn't bright enough to drive away all of the early morning shadows. Clicking on his lamp, Archer glanced around. He and his family had lived in this house for as long as he could remember. A single story home in the suburbs of Corneria City which they'd bought and paid for with partial government assistance at the tail end of the Third Great Recession, not long after his parents had gotten married and his Ma was pregnant with Gerald. It was a nice enough house, and now that Ma and Pop had a working shop they didn't need the government check anymore, which made his Pop happy and his Ma grumpy. She would have preferred to keep taking it so they could move into something bigger.

Opening his bedroom door Archer made his way out to the kitchen, following his nose to the scent of eggs and toast. His parents ate light in the mornings, though their lunch sandwiches were legendary for both their size and composition. He found his mother and father sitting at the table, his mother reading the morning paper on her phone, the news projected in holographic form, and utilizing motions sensors so she could turn the pages with a swipe of her hand. His father was working intently on a piece of machinery, two delicate manipulators in his hand that almost looked like chop sticks. Archer recognized the piece of equipment immediately. "Optronic relays at breakfast Pop? Not exactly starting your day easy." Archer took a seat and smiled as his mother pushed a plate of eggs and buttered toast in his direction, not looking up from the article she was reading.

"Start the day hard, end the day easy," his father said, his voice even more gruff and deep than Archer's. He looked up from the relay and smiled, "And I know, I've told you that motto a thousand times."

Archer smiled back, getting some eggs on his fork and saying, "It's a good motto. I hate to tell you I can't stick around to help today. You'll have to get your free labor elsewhere."

His mother, still not looking up from her article, said, "We'll manage. Maybe we'll call Gerald."

"Isn't he busy with his own life?" Archer asked, biting into his toast.

"So are you, never meant you couldn't lend a hand," Archer's father put in.

"I guess." Archer sighed happily at the taste of the food. "Good breakfast. The toast is great."

"I upgraded our toaster a few days ago," his mother told him, finally looking up from her newspaper. "We've got thirty-six different settings now. Up from twenty-eight."

"I bet you you'll never break forty," Archer said, fully aware of the danger of challenging his mother.

"You're on," she said. Then she stood up, walked into the kitchen, unplugged the toaster, and brought it back to the table. Setting it down she walked into the living room, grabbed one of the numerous toolkits that were kept throughout the house, and sat back down. "We have an hour until the shop opens," she explained.

Archer laughed and finished his food, watching with genuine interest as his mother opened up the toaster and set to work. The thing probably didn't have an original, factory made piece left in it.

Finishing up his food, Archer stood up and said, "I'm gonna go ahead and get showered and dressed. James will be here in a couple hours to pick me up."

"Is your car not working?" His father looked at him with a combination of concern and hopefulness. Concern that his son's means of transport wasn't working, hopefulness that he'd be able to go in, fix it, and probably improve it a bit while he was at it.

"It's working fine," Archer told him. "I just didn't wanna waste the electricity on driving through the city."

"You could take the bus," his mother pointed out.

"The train is only ten minutes walk from here," his father added.

Archer stared at them for a moment, and then said, "I feel like air conditioning."

His parents exchanged glances, then shrugged. His mother said, "Fair enough."

Shaking his head, Archer headed for the bathroom. He shut the door and stripped down, looking at himself briefly in the mirror. A long, ugly scar made its way down his left pectoral, a reminder of an accident he'd had doing some repair work down at one of the Corneria City ports. It had been a stupid accident, and one he could have avoided if he'd been paying close enough attention. Naturally though he'd been too concerned with showing off for one of the other repair workers, a very fit and attractive female cheetah, to pay attention to what he was actually doing. The doctors at the hospital had offered him dermal and fur regeneration, but Archer had declined, preferring to keep the scar. Pop said it made him look tough, and Ma said it would serve as a good reminder not to pull anymore stupid stunts.

Getting the water in the shower running Archer waited until it warmed up, then stepped in, taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of the warm, clear water impacting on his fur. As usual, the water pressure was phenomenal, all benefit of his parent's "if it ain't broke make it better" attitude towards home repair. Grabbing the shampoo Archer squeezed it out and lathered it up in his hands, scrubbing it into his fur with gusto. As he did so his mind drifted to thoughts of the Arwing, a craft he had never flown, but was rapidly falling in love with.

They'd been fighting in the simulators for more than a week now, and Vixy, the Arwing's test pilot, had managed to pull into a clear lead in terms of matches won. She was an exceptional pilot, and combined with the fact that the Arwing offered unprecedented technological advantages, with speed, power generation, and maneuverability all far beyond anything else on the market or in development, meant that she was nigh unstoppable. It was often all he, James, and Peppy could do to hold their own.

Archer knew that the three of them were some of the best pilots in Lylat. It might have sounded like an idle boast, but ask anyone who had actually seen them fly and they'd tell you the same thing. When Archer thought about that fact, and factored in the immense power of the Arwing, he got the feeling that one day, nothing in the galaxy would be able to compete with Star Fox. And that thought alone was enough to make him smile, and feel good about the future.