Chapter Fifteen

Before This All Goes...

They'd been starstruck, that was for certain. And why wouldn't they be? Cadman thought to himself. Growing up on the bottom rung of Macbethan society, never knowing how the rest of Lylat lived, coming to a place like Zoness would have been the biggest imaginable culture shock in the universe. Personally, Cadman would have preferred it if his mission had been taking place in the bowels of Numanchester or one of the other industrial cities on Macbeth. A place where the underworld was actually under the world, and where meeting in dark, secluded alleyways meant the smell of trash, urine, and lewd graffiti. Places like Zoness were too clean for Cadman's taste.

Perhaps nothing exemplified that more than when he lit a cigarette while he waited in line for an elevator up to the 120th level. People looked at him first with curiosity, then with disgust when they saw him draw in and then exhale a cloud of smoke from his nose. The woman next to him, an avian with a tiny chick roosting in the crest on her head, frowned and then went back several spaces in line, muttering about the dangers of secondhand smoke and what it could do to a newborn's lungs. Cadman shrugged and advanced with the line. No fur off his back if she wanted to wait a little longer.

Once he had made it to the head of the line Cadman decided to be courteous, so he plucked the smoke from his muzzle, tossed it on the ground, and stomped on it with a foot. As he got into the elevator he could see people gingerly stepping around it, trying and failing to hide their distaste. Cadman just smiled and shrugged a mock apology as the doors shut and the lift kicked into motion. What do people do around here for fun?

If he were on Macbeth or Fortuna, things would have been different. Even Papetoon would have been easier to stomach. People on those worlds were rough, with sharp edges and dangerous personalities. They knew want and suffering and they reveled in the challenge, or wallowed in defeat. Here on Zoness though? These people were just Cornerian-lite. They had it all. Great schools, great jobs, and a government that was looking out for their interests. And so they had a good, easy, comfy life, even if they were in the lower strata of the planet's society. They ate well and they smiled. And they didn't shoot or rob each other. At least not all that often. So they forget how the rest of the galaxy lives.

The lift doors opened and Cadman stepped out, along with about a dozen other people. The lifts in the arcologies ran in circuits, much like trains would in a normal city. It was an efficient system, and it made waiting for the elevator much less painful than it might have seemed.

Level 120 looked more or less like level 14. It was brightly lit, had a happy, cloying, bubbly atmosphere, and was filled with shops, people, and children. The differences were subtle, but they were there. If you looked at pricing in restaurants and stores you would notice that everything cost a little more, and was of a somewhat higher quality, reflecting the higher incomes of those living a hundred and six levels above the lowest of the proletariat. Still, these were mostly working class people, just like the ones below. Not that any working class Fortunan would have recognized them as such.

After getting his bearings Cadman headed for the nearby slidewalk, an unobtrusive type of mass transit for those who needed get somewhere too far to walk, and too close to justify a tram or taking a car. As he moved through the crowd and onto the pedestrian conveyor belt, Cadman's mind wandered back to the events of a week before, with the close escape from BR-558, and the successful delivery of the Arwing prototype to Eladard.

"Well done," Vesper said, running a hand across the prototype. "Well done indeed."

Cadman nodded, otherwise not giving away how pleased he was at the compliment. Vesper rarely assigned compliments to anyone for doing their job, so when he did it was a sign of his favor. Cadman knew agents who would have killed, maimed, and done far worse for the favor of a 'well done'. Cadman was one of them. "Thank you, sir."

Vesper straightened and turned to him, amusement in his eyes. "Sir. It's such a strange honorific, don't you think? Especially for one who has no title that requires it. There are Brahmins on Corneria who would be quite offended to hear you call me 'sir'."

"I suppose." Cadman shrugged his shoulders. "But then they never did earn that title, did they?"

"Ah! Very good!" Vesper snapped his fingers and approached Cadman. "No, they have not earned their title. Bloodlines mean nothing, only merit can determine if a person is worthy of a title. Would you like a title? You've certainly earned one."

Cadman chuckled. "It'll take more than that to bribe me, sir."

Vesper laughed, his eyes twinkling. "No. I suppose a title wouldn't work on you." Vesper looked considerate. "I have a feeling I know what would, though."

Cadman remained silent, though he cocked an eyebrow.

Smiling, Vesper went on, "Once you've completed your next assignment, I'll arrange for two weeks for you in a Fortunan pleasure den. Only the finest company, the finest intoxicants. You deserve no less. Does that appeal to you?"

Cadman grinned. "It does."

"Then it is yours. Nothing but the best for my most trusted right hand." Vesper clapped him on the shoulder. "And, if you'd like a special guest..."

"Shea," Cadman said without hesitation.

Vesper raised his eyebrows. "Mm. I didn't think she was your type."

"Her body isn't what I'm concerned with," Cadman replied.

"Then what other reason would you have for bringing her to a pleasure den?" Vesper asked, his face a study in profound interest.

"To see what she's like when she's not working," Cadman explained. "I find I learn far more about a person when they're relaxing, then I do when they're working."

Vesper nodded approvingly. "Make the offer. I'll be happy to arrange for her accommodations as well. Presuming, of course, she accepts. Do you think she will?"

"I think she will, yes," Cadman said.

There was a moment of silence between the two, and Cadman could see the wheels in Vesper's head turning. For a moment Cadman wondered what web his employer might be weaving. He quashed the thought. Vesper would tell him if it was important for him to know. If it wasn't, then it was none of his business anyway.

Looking at Vesper, Cadman realized that employer wasn't really the right word for him. Cadman worked for no one else, and he had no interest in using his skills for anyone else. He did what he did out of loyalty, and the knowledge that everything he had was thanks to this strange, sleepless feline standing before him, and that with the snap of a finger he could take it all away. When he put it to himself like that Cadman realized that the right description, the one that perfectly summed up their relationship, was that of master and slave. It didn't bother him in the slightest.

Vesper spun around suddenly, marching back to the Arwing. He regarded it for a moment, tail lashing behind him as he thought. Then he said, "This radiolytic isotope. What do you make of it?"

Cadman walked up to the Arwing, eyeing it and its polished finish. "Ingenious, really. Any other kind of tracking device could be blocked or removed. But, since the only way to block the signal would be to flood the area with the same kind of radiation, and in quantities lethal to organic bodies and dangerous to synthetic matrices, it means, for all practical purposes, it is unable to be blocked."

"Correct." Vesper nodded, tapping the forefinger of his right hand against the bottom of his chin. "What else?"

"Because it's baked in, it can't be removed, unless, of course, you were to disassemble the entire Arwing," Cadman added.

"Yes. And I have no desire to do that." Vesper shook his head. "Quite a puzzle."

Cadman didn't say anything. Vesper was thinking. And thinking hard. Cadman had seen what happened when you interrupted a thought process like that. Oh, Vesper could forgive the occasional accident, like if you were a continent or more away and had no reasonable way of knowing he was in the midst of a brainstorming session. But, rushing him, or trying to break what felt like an awkward silence, could lead to all number of nasty things. Once, when Cadman had just been starting out, his handler had made the mistake of trying to hurry a meeting along. He'd lost an eye to Vesper's claws.

"Perhaps I don't need to disassemble it. Not entirely anyway." Vesper reached forward with a hand and tapped his claw against the G-diffuser. "Hmmm." Silence for a few more seconds. "Well, I'll have to think on this."

Cadman nodded. He knew Vesper already had a plan, but he was just politely telling him that he didn't need to know. Yet another sign of the respect Vesper had for his relationship with Cadman, and one that the canine did not take for granted. Vesper turned.

"In the meantime, I think it's about time you learned what your next assignment is." Vesper motioned for him to follow. Cadman did.

As they walked Vesper began speaking. Cadman had to stoop slightly in the confines of the tunnels Vesper had chosen as his hideout. More of a lair, given the decor of shed reptile skin and white, decayed bones. Catacombs were more or less the same no matter where you went. "You already know about the team I found on Macbeth. The ones who I believe have the skills needed to pull off this assignment."

"Yes." Cadman recalled the information, bringing it to the fore of his mind. "Lupus and Sarah O'Donnell, and Jax."

"Mm. Jax. Odd name," Vesper muttered. Cadman could see the hint of a smile curling the feline's short muzzle. Most people wouldn't have known it, but Vesper had quite a sense of humor. He seemed to delight in what he did, and in everything that came along with it.

They stopped at an old wooden doorway, a candle flickering in the sconce just above it. Vesper pushed the door open and Cadman followed him inside. The room was dark as well, the only light provided by a laptop computer plugged into a mobile powersource. Vesper motioned to a chair in front of the desk and Cadman sat down.

Vesper settled in and said, "Have you heard about the Interdimensional Warp Transfer Gate?" Cadman shook his head. "It's a revolutionary new technology. It could be used to transfer ships from one point in space to another parsecs away, instantly."

Cadman narrowed his eyes. "That would change things."

"Indeed."

"You want it." Cadman wasn't asking.

"Yes." Vesper opened a drawer in the desk and pulled out a memory card. "Everything you need to know is on this. Contacts, locales, time tables, background. Collect Lupus and his teammates and get to work."

Cadman took the memory card and slipped it into his pocket. "Consider it done."

Vesper smiled and held out his hand. Cadman shook it. "Good luck."

"Thanks. Good luck to you."

One thing in the in the universe remained constant. No matter how rich or well off you were, you could always be a little more rich, a little more well off. Inequality was the spice of life, and if the competition for survival had been made obsolete on worlds like Zoness and Corneria, it was only because it had been replaced by the competition for comfort. Greed, Cadman thought to himself as he rode another elevator up through a residential complex, will always be a constant.

Once, when the concept of a post-scarcity society was just becoming a reality, people had boldly predicted that things like money and other exchange mediums would become outdated, and society would reorder itself into a utopia in which the driving force of life was not the acquisition of wealth, but the betterment of all people. It almost made Cadman laugh at how naive people had once been.

It hadn't taken long for people to realize that those utopias would never exist. If need had been eliminated, want had not been. People wanted. It was in their nature. If not hard coded into their DNA than at least hard wired by millennia of cultural obsession. So, people in Lylat didn't starve? Great. But they still wanted things. They wanted more food than they got. They wanted more space to live. They wanted more things to enjoy. They wanted longer vacations in nicer resorts. They wanted bigger holovisions with clearer images. They could have every need fulfilled, but when it came down to it, the wants that people had were truly limitless. The more they had, the more they wanted. No one could supply every material want, and no one could ever acquire everything they desired, so money remained as a means of rationing the vast, but still not limitless resources of a solar system, a galaxy, and a universe.

With that in mind, Cadman stepped out of the elevator and made his way down a short corridor. He was meeting with a person who definitely shouldn't have been meeting with him. Stopping in front of the last door in the corridor Cadman raised his fist and knocked twice. He waited. He heard another door click behind him. He glanced in that direction. He saw a brief flash of a female lupine form. Sarah? Doubtful. He'd have known if he was being tailed. Probably just another resident who'd taken the stairs instead of the lift.

The door in front of him clicked open and he returned his attention to it, forgetting the incident as quickly as it had happened. "Ms. Swift?" he asked, smiling at the single eye peering around the doorframe.

"Yes?" said a soft, feminine voice.

"Mr. Dane. I understand you're interested in our security systems," Cadman said, reciting his cover story.

"Oh. Yes, of course. Come in."

The door opened fully and Cadman walked in, brushing past the female avian standing to the side. He pulled out a scanning device and began checking the room for surveillance devices. A few moments later and he clicked the scanner shut, satisfied that the apartment was secure. The door shut behind him and he turned around. "Nice place you have here," Cadman said, looking around at the living room of the apartment. Soft furniture, a holovision, game console. Kitchen that, judging by the open cabinets, appeared well stocked.

"You don't have to lie," the female avian, Talia Swift, replied. "It's a working class hovel, and not where I intend to live for the rest of my life."

Lady, if only you knew what people on Fortuna would give to live in a place like this, Cadman thought privately to himself. Out loud he said, "I understand. I might be able to help you with that." Talia just cocked a feathery eyebrow. "Of course, I would need something in exchange."

"Of course." Talia moved past him and into the bedroom. Cadman waited outside. When she returned she was holding a memory card. "This contains all the information on Installation 214's security systems."

Cadman reached out, remarking silently to himself that he seemed to be getting a lot of memory cards lately. "Why thank you," Cadman said. He pulled out a credit chit and handed it over to her. "One million. Untraceable."

"Our agreed upon price was two," Talia said, acid in her voice.

"You've only given me half of what I want," Cadman replied.

Talia frowned. "I'm just head of security. What makes you think..."

"Oh don't bullshit me," Cadman bit out. He stepped closer, looming over her. She blanched, her nostrils flaring from the scent of smoke that clung to his fur and his breath. "You're head of security. Your job is to make sure that base is secure. Which means you need to know every inch of it. So, I need the exact location of that schematic card. Or else...well..." He gave her a look that had her feathers ruffling, "You don't look all that hard to break. Or something else."

Talia's eyes widened and she glared up at him. "How dare you..."

She brought her hand up to slap him, but Cadman grabbed her by the wrist and whispered, "Bad idea."

"Let go of me."

Cadman leaned over her until his muzzle was almost pressing against her beak. "Give me what was agreed, and I promise you, I'll be a perfect gentleman." He lowered his voice even further. "But don't push me."

Swift's eyes darted away from him, and she whispered, "Please. I don't have it. They don't tell me that sort of thing."

"What do they tell you?" Cadman grunted, letting go of her wrist and shoving her back. "Because whatever it is, it sure as hell ain't worth the two million my boss is offering you."

Her back hit the wall and she rubbed her wrist where he'd been gripping her. "Just what's on the card," she told him. Cadman was impressed she wasn't crying. If he'd been in her place, he'd be scared shitless. "I swear. I'll take the million."

Cadman eyed her. He didn't quite like how this was going. But...he tapped the card against his phone and scrolled through the information. It was all there. Everything she'd promised would be on it. He looked up at her, smiled, and said, "Enjoy your new found wealth, Ms. Swift."

"Half what was promised..." she muttered behind his retreating back.

Cadman turned on her with a grin. "If you're disappointed, I'm sure I could compensate you some other way." Talia paled behind her feathers and backed away, recognizing that leering gaze for exactly what it was. Not an offer. A threat. Seeing that he'd made his point, Cadman turned and left the apartment, confident that even if something did feel fishy, he could handle it, whatever it was. He always did.

"You what?" Argus stared dumbly at Cedwyn. They were sitting in a lounge in the Council Building, sipping cocktails and listening to the sounds of soft jazz, clinking glasses, and the whispered chatter of politicians and their staffers.

"I put a team on Eladard," Cedwyn repeated, looking confused at Argus' reaction. "Agents."

Argus ran a hand down his face, trying to get a hold of his anxiety. Oh this was not what he had wanted or expected to hear from Cedwyn when he'd been invited. "What department?"

"Security Directorate," Cedwyn replied. "The very best of the best. I pulled a few strings to get the mission authorized off the books. I...thought you'd be pleased."

"Fuck," Argus whispered. "Cedwyn, I meant to tell you, I already have a team on Eladard."

Cedwyn's features darkened. "What?"

"Star Fox. I hired them to go to Eladard and retrieve the Arwing," Argus said, frowning, his ears tipping back and then coming forward again.

"Ascended help me," Cedwyn muttered, looking sick to his stomach. "Why the hell would you do that?"

Argus picked up his drink, a glowing yellow concoction the name of which had suddenly escaped him, and took a sip. When he set it down he said, "I didn't trust the government to handle this. Military or civilian."

"Oh." Cedwyn's voice was soft. Dangerously. Cedwyn Llewellyn was a loud, sometimes even boorish man at times. So when he spoke softly it was more intimidating than the loudest yell. "You didn't trust us to do this, so you took matters into your own hands?"

"Yes." Argus stared right into the jaws of potential death, unafraid. If his friend wanted to take offense than he had every right to, it didn't change the fact that Argus didn't plan on trusting the security of his business or his technology to the Federation government ever again. Not after everything that had happened in the last few weeks.

"Dammit!" Cedwyn slammed a fist on the table, spittle flying from his muzzle. All conversation in the lounge stopped, and heads turned to look at the two of them. Cedwyn grunted and reached for a small control panel on the table. He tapped a button followed by his authorization code, and the table projected a sound dampening field around them. They could yell and scream to their heart's content and no one would hear a word. "You just couldn't leave well enough alone, could you Argus? It's like you think you're above the law. Above the Federation. We handle these sorts of things. We have the experience and the resources. We have the authority. You don't."

"Done?" Argus asked, reigning in his own temper. One of them had to keep calm. Cedwyn nodded. "Fine. Then let me tell you my side of the story. I sign a contract with the Federation government to develop a super-fighter. Something that, in even limited quantities, could irrevocably tip the scales of military technology in the Federation's favor. It's a multi-billion credit contract, and one that has the potential to screw me if it gets canceled..."

"Space Dynamics would survive it, you told me that yourself," Cedwyn interrupted, looking petulant.

"Space Dynamics yes," Argus allowed. "Me? Not a chance. My investors would run me out of the company so fast the door would hit me so hard in the ass on the way out I'd be halfway to Titania before I knew what was happening." Cedwyn didn't seem to have an answer for that. Argus continued, "So, I sign this contract, and I'm delivering. Not only have I created the most powerful, efficient, and streamlined space superiority fighter in the history of the field, I've invented a revolutionary new technology that no one, no one, but the Federation would have access to. Everything is going fine, that is, until the Federation decides combat tests will take place on Katina. I agree. It makes sense. You have the facilities there, and it's not that far from Corneria. With that in mind I trust its security to the Federation Security Forces. And what happens? What the fuck happens? It gets stolen!" Argus could tell he was losing that calm he'd been trying to maintain. He decided to let it go, Cedwyn looked like he was getting the message. "What happens next Cedwyn?"

Frowning, Cedwyn answered, "The military stepped in to help."

"Bingo." Argus grunted. "And then what happens? They lose it a fuck second time! Forgive me then if I don't have much faith in the Federation's capabilities or its competence in these matters."

Silence. Then, "Alright, I get your point," Cedwyn replied, holding up his hands in surrender. "But it doesn't change one key thing."

"And that is?" Argus asked, feeling his temper calming now that his friend had admitted defeat. Victory had a tendency to make one magnanimous. And Cedwyn rarely admitted defeat.

"We have two teams down there," Cedwyn said, "So, they might as well be working together, right?"

Argus hesitated for a moment. His first instinct was to tell Cedwyn and his Agents to go to hell, but the rational part of his brain knew that would be a pointless, vindictive move. Swallowing his pride, Argus nodded.

"Good." Cedwyn smiled. "I guarantee you won't..."

"Don't." Argus held up a hand. "Don't make any promises. For both our sakes. I do have a request though."

"Name it."

Argus repressed a smile. Cedwyn was in reconciliation mode, doing whatever it took to keep from burning an important bridge. "I want Star Fox to take the lead on this."

"I don't think that's possible," Cedwyn said, shaking his head.

"Really?" Argus arched an eyebrow. "Because I'm making it my one and only condition."

Across the table, the snow leopard looked considerate. Argus could see him weighing his options, looking at the pros and cons of the situation, and then coming to a decision. "I'll let them know."

"Good." Argus wagged his tail. He knew why Cedwyn hadn't put up that much of a fight, but Argus still considered having Star Fox running the show a better option than having two teams that weren't coordinating, or worse, having one team that Federation agents were in charge of. "Now, how about a drink. On me?" Before this all goes straight to hell.

A/N: Cadman never fails to make me queasy. We're closing in on the end of the story now. Things are about to start coming to a head in the next four chapters. Also, I apologize for the lack of an update last week. That was a glitch in the system due to interference from Vex Update Minds. Fortunately I worked it out, and regular posting shall resume. What are Vex? Evil machines intent on turning all of creation into a cold, entropic, wasteland. I've been playing a lot of Destiny...Probably too much.

See you all next week!