A/N: Ahhh! I can't believe I've neglected this story for so long! I hope I still have readers!
The limousine pulled up to Cornerian Headquarters with the leisurely purr of a big cat at rest. It did not reflect the buzzing activity surrounding it or its occupants. All around the sleek black vehicle, citizens and important dignitaries were milling about, trying to catch a glimpse of those inside, or trying to find their way to designated waiting points while trying to not collide with frustratingly static and motionless reporters, who clogged most of the walkway leading up to the HQ's entrance. All of them were asking the wrong questions and postulating the wrong answers.
Falco knew they were wrong. They had misrepresented him several times in his life, mistaking his fast living for loose morals and a lack of brains. He stared at the crowds with the easy-going confidence that being an ace pilot gave him, and sniffed a little contemptuously. He didn't like reporters. Almost everyone who saw him would jam a microphone into his face, which he would promptly ignore, and look past the gauntlet of cameras to the line of soldiers waiting at the door.
A lot of these guys would just be standing here all day and never see anything more interesting than ships taking off and landing. The conference up in Alliance Station (Falco still thought it was a dumb name) had been the talk of the town for the past several weeks, and now that it was here, Corneria was seething with anticipation. They wanted to know everything that was happening. All the cameras would bring ordinary citizens from their living rooms to high orbit. And yet, there were so many people who were just little cogs in the machine, never able to do anything except what they were told.
Falco gave the stoic soldiers a nod as he went by, wondering if any of them felt jealous or respectful. Given the way they melted apart just to let him pass, and how some of them glanced at him as he went by, it was probably a little bit of both. This was supposed to be a momentous day, after all, and they'd spend it all just standing around out here in the hot sun.
Falco found no respite from the hubbub inside the HQ. People were rushing back and forth, messages being sent here and there, officers in uniform talking about this and that. Guards stood attentive at their posts through all the hubbub. All the cogs were spinning in the right places.
The lombard didn't know what to make of all this. He had fought beside Fox during the Lylat Wars, and even before then the mutual respect had come to the point where he would die for the fox. Somehow though, facing down a Venomian fleet with nothing but half an Arwing and a single smart bomb seemed preferable to taking his place on Alliance Station. There was a whole planetary system out there that needed looking after, and here he was walking a red carpet. Normally he wouldn't mind. But none of these cameras were here to see him, they were here to see Dash. The avian found his thoughts on Andross' grandson congruous with Fox's. He was a wild card, and not the likeable kind that Falco was. He was a true unknown. Nobody knew what he'd turn out to be now that he was the new prime minister of Lylat's nemesis worl.
Venom had a lot of bad memories.
Nobody seemed interested in pointing him the right way, which gave him time for all this introspection. He wasn't in command after all, he was just one of the pretty faces for the cameras. At last, Falco decided to barge into the office of the only guy here he really knew would say something worthwhile: General Peppy Hare.
He was at his desk, his venerable white fur sticking out from a cluster of younger, loud voiced aides. He was pointing at papers and signing datapads, and only glanced at Falco as he entered. He did a double take, shooed the others out while completely ignoring their indignant protests, and shut the door.
Immediately he threw off his hat and sighed.
"Falco. Thank goodness! I was getting overwhelmed in here. We're still making last minute preparations, but you and I need to be gone in an hour for the shuttle. Lucy should be coming back soon, I hope she makes it through that wall of reporters..."
"Lucy?" Falco repeated incredulously. "I thought you said she was staying on Fichina with her teaching job."
"Yes, well, as you know, she's becoming a rising star in her field. And she wanted to come, and, well, with me so busy, I couldn't handle just saying no! She would have been crushed if she missed this."
Falco only grunted, uncommitted to a real answer. Peppy returned to his desk.
"Well anyway, like I said, I have to let those people back in here soon. Still so many things to do, still the speeches to rehearse, the papers to sign... why do we even still use paper?"
Falco shrugged, and Peppy went on, fuming, waving his arms and trying to settle down enough to write down proper orders.
"I don't know how Pepper managed it all. He's going to be there too of course, but... well, he's really starting to get up there in age. Poor man is in a grav-chair almost all the time, almost deaf in one ear. But he's still lucid. Heh, more lucid than I will be when I get like him. All this commanding is running me ragged."
Falco tried to imagine the duty-minded fighting hare in a floating grav-chair, ears drooped and arms pleasantly in his lap, doing nothing but being old and smacking his gums at the young whippersnappers. It didn't work. Not in the slightest. Falco would always see Peppy as the irascible, energetic man he had been in the Lylat Wars. It seemed a lifetime ago now.
At last, he posed the question he'd wanted to ask.
"Is Fox coming?"
Peppy jerked as if awoken from a deep sleep. His eyes turned up to meet Falco's.
"I don't know," he said. "I haven't heard from him ever since we visited him. What about you?"
"I went back to his place the day after we went," Falco admitted. "He wasn't even there. Didn't even pack! I assumed he was out somewhere, but…"
Peppy seemed crestfallen. "Well, there's nothing to do about it. We can't force him into anything he doesn't want. But you can quote me on this, Falco. Fox knows what his duty is. The man has been through too much to just sit down and take the hits! I know he'll do the right thing. He'll come. He has to come."
"Well if he does show up, he's gonna shoot somebody if the reporters are as annoying as they are out there!" Falco warned. "And I know the media, Pep. Buncha leeches. Woulda blasted 'em awhile ago if I could be famous without 'em. And you know Fox, he gets stage fright. Hell, Peppy, half the time he got up in front of cameras we had to write out lines for him. He was calm getting those awards after we killed Andross, but backstage he was a wreck."
"He'll be here," Peppy suddenly insisted, though he probably just felt like being contrary. He walked forward and clapped a hand to Falco's shoulder. "He knows how important this is. Come on, it's about time we left too."
There wasn't a lot left to do except get to the shuttle. The starport was suspiciously devoid of commoners. Peppy explained that all civilian traffic had been cleared out of the area to make way for the momentous event; handling air traffic would be difficult enough without tourists, frequent flyers, and space jockeys making a mess of things. Falco finally did notice that the skies were empty of civilian aircraft and even the giant, conspicuous trade freighters that were always going to and fro. Skycars were completely absent from the sky today. Everyone must have been walking instead, explaining the pressing crowds that were swarming through the streets.
"So what exactly are we gonna be doin' up there?" Falco asked Peppy.
"The usual," the hare explained. "You know... keep your beak shut and let me do all the talking. There's a lot of suits up there that won't know what to make of you. You haven't exactly been the best at keeping a low profile."
Falco did his best to smile around his beak, shaking his head and ruffling his feathers. The avian had made the most out of being a thrice-hailed hero of the Lylat system, getting into all the newspapers and all the talk shows, and even, to Katt's chagrin, helping maintain the running rumor that they were still an item. He enjoyed adoration, not stuffy little tea parties like this would undoubtedly be.
"Hey, old man, if you can't live it up a little, what's the point of being famous?"
"Fox could tell you that."
Falco huffed, feeling a little offended at the snippy tone in the hare's voice.
"Last time I checked, Fox wasn't doing a lot of talking," he said in a dark voice. Peppy said nothing after that.
They entered the hanger where their ship was still waiting for clearance. The hanger itself was built underground to save space and not leave a whole bunch of spaceships just waiting around for atmospheric re-entry, which would have become an eyesore. Their ship was an awkward, bulbous craft with long, stubby wings meant only to burst through the upper atmosphere and plop into Alliance Station, with a brutal Impact Drive Assembly that was a holdover from the days when G-diffusers were still in their experimental stages. It was an antique, but Peppy claimed it was all they could get on 'short notice.'
"You sure it isn't just because we're trying to impress all the other dignitaries with smooth rides and leave us the hand-me-downs that we're flying this piece of crap?" Falco asked.
Peppy hadn't said anything, but his ears had gone suspiciously erect.
It was going to be a rough trip up to the station in that thing, but once they cleared the atmosphere it would be fine. Falco wondered what Slippy would have to say about such an old and clumsy system, and he only now realized that he hadn't seen Slippy for some months. Perhaps he had been too busy enjoying the blessed silence his grating, high-pitched voice was no longer ruining.
"So where's the toad?"
"He's still on Aquas, last I heard."
"I thought he was coming!"
"Amanda's expecting again. You know how he gets when she's pregnant."
Falco nodded sagely. For the past few years since the Anglar invasion, Amanda and Slippy had been having armies of children on a fairly regular basis, all well provided for by the generous stipends Slippy's miracle working earned from the aerospace corporations. Falco had never known Slippy to be able to get busy so quick and so often, and the thought of the once immature and cowardly mechanic being a love machine made him want to smirk and gag in horror at the same time.
Lucky little google-eyed freak, he thought. Sometimes, just sometimes, he found himself envying that green genius, the only one of the Star Fox team who had been able to find something resembling a normal life. Falco's life was anything but normal, consisting of many ups and downs and a rather dull life in the Systems Corps, where the majority of excitement came from dodging boring tasks and staying hidden in the bureaucracy. Falco wondered how he himself would look as a father, and decided that perhaps the Lylat system was better off without a flock of little ace Lombardis running around tearing things up. He had to give the competition a little bit of leeway, after all.
There wasn't any fanfare waiting for them to enter the shuttle, just a few guards and officers waiting around for the VIPs. As Falco and Peppy approached, a middle-aged German Shepherd with a well pressed and extremely clean uniform came up to them, the echo of his footsteps the only noise in the hanger aside from the hissing of exhaust and machine hydraulics.
"Welcome General," the Shepherd said. "Your ship's ready for take-off whenever you are."
"Excellent work, Palmer," Peppy said with a nod. "How's the situation looking up there?"
"Controlled chaos, General. The dignitaries are all up and running, getting set for the big meeting. They're all waiting on you. Pepper's already gone up. It looks like the damn Red Roller movie awards, sir."
"Watch your language, son. What about Dash?"
There was a jerk in the Shepherd's movements. That name was becoming more ominous with each passing day to those who did not share in the enthusiasm surrounding Venom's rise to power and position, and Palmer was certainly old enough to remember with clarity the destruction of Andross' conquests.
"He's already up there, arrived about twelve hours ago" he said quietly. "Smiling for all the cameras and making friends. People are giving him a wide berth until the speech."
"Good," Peppy said simply. "Then it'll be easier to keep an eye on him. Do we have any pertinent security intel?"
"Nothing," Palmer noted. "Which makes me nervous. Something this big, sir? It won't stay quiet for long."
"Just do your job," Peppy said simply, and turned to the other officers around them. Most of them were only a little younger than he was, but there were many fresh faces as well. People who venerated Peppy as a living legend, who hadn't really known what the Lylat War had been like. People who had grown up in the face of the smaller, subsequent wars, who believed that only outside threats like the Aparoids were a true danger. Lylat was united to them, looking forward to a glorious future where everyone lived peaceably, and terrifying aliens in the dark were ready to pounce on them and test their camaraderie. Threats from within didn't exist to them. Politics were so simple in the face of the new Alliance and the uniting power of the Systems Corps. Peppy envied them something fierce.
"All of you, just do your jobs," he repeated. "Be ready, not paranoid. Be alert, not hysterical. This is just another day at the office. As long as you keep a straight face for the cameras, we'll get through this just fine."
They all straightened their backs, taking inspiration and encouragement from his words. Peppy had not lost his steadying, calming presence. Falco still had to admire him, even now. In the years that Star Fox had been together, he had always been their anchor, the link to the original Star Fox under James, a beacon that they could look to in times of trouble. Strong, wise, and kind. A father for the ones they had lost, or never known.
"Well let's not all stand around like school kids at a dance!" the avian said, rustling his feathers. "Let's get moving!"
They started for the ship. As Peppy stepped up to the boarding ramp, he paused when someone called out to him from behind. Another young officer was jogging up to him, out of breath.
"General!" he said, huffing and puffing to the point where he could barely talk. "He... he's here! You gotta wait for him general, he's... whoo! I ran all the way here, sir, my apologies..."
"Stand up straight, soldier," Peppy demanded. "Take some deep breaths and speak plainly."
The feline sucked in another breath, holding up a hand to give him a moment longer. And then it all came out in a rush.
"I don't know where he came from, General! He just showed up out of nowhere on the scanners… he said he has a message to deliver you as soon as possible!"
Peppy sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Unless we're being bombed, young man, I don't think you need to be in such a panic."
"But sir, it's him! It's-"
"Daddy?"
Peppy shoved the young feline out of the way and watched his daughter stride into the hanger, a huge grin on her face.
"Lucy!" Peppy gasped, letting the younger hare throw herself into his arms with an excited squeal. She was dressed in surprisingly casual clothes, but had a crimson gown that glittered with shiny inlays slung over her arm.
"I'm sorry I'm late," she said into his ear. "It was so crowded!"
"Don't worry a bit, honey," Peppy said with a grin, holding her at arm's length and looking her over. She had already put on her makeup for the event, though she hardly needed it. In spite of everything, she of all the others had kept her youthful vivacity, and still sometimes seemed like the young, eager girl who had first set out on her own. Intelligence was clear in her shining magenta eyes that matched her pink fur. Giving her cheeks a fond squeeze, he turned back to the officer who had run at him, who was practically jumping from one foot to the other to tell him what he had seen.
"Spit it out, soldier."
"Sir!" the cat saluted. "I don't know how he got in, but he did, and he wanted to give you a message!"
"Who?"
"It's Fox, Dad!" Lucy said, and the grin on her face nearly split her head in two. The cat behind her huffed, perturbed that he hadn't been the one to make the announcement. "It's Fox!" Lucy blurted out again, shaking with excitement to reunite with her old friend and wingmate. "He's come back, just like you said he would! He showed me how to get in here through the back." She surprised the general by giggling like a school girl. Seeing Fox again had made her day."He said the security around here still sucked. But he didn't stick around, he said he had things to do. He said he got a plan together and everything, and for none of you to worry because he'll be there, and he'll show up in style!"
Peppy and Falco gave each other a long look, and then smiled in unison, a feeling of understanding and congratulation passing between them, pride swelling up in their chests. Fox was here, somewhere, and he wasn't going to let them down.
"Showing up in the nick of time, as usual," Lombardi drawled, crossing his arms.
"Whatever he's got planned," said Peppy, "I know it'll be something I don't want to miss. Now, come on, you all, let's get onto the shuttle! I don't want it said by anyone today that age is slowing me down!"
Major William "Bill" Grey found himself enjoying the sights from above Corneria, even though he was supposed to be on duty. His Starblazer fighter was set at a nice cruising speed, holding orbit around Alliance Station. It was a smooth, streamlined ride that he very much appreciated. The G-Diffuser technology that had once made the Arwing the premier air and space superiority fighter had slowly disseminated throughout the armed forces of the Systems Corps, and become the default method of ensuring Lylat fighters would always have the upper hand. It leveled the playing field, but the majority of the fleet would never have to worry about pirate incursions being a problem again. The Starblazer was now the symbol of Systems Corps technological advancement, a perfect fusion of maneuverability and firepower. It was fast enough to be an interceptor, could carry enough of a payload to act as a strike bomber in a pinch, and had enough shielding and weaponry to go head-to-head with any opposition. The forward swept wings could extend and retract at a single command to maximize stability in space or in atmosphere. To be sure, there were other craft such as the Meteor or the Sentinel that still had their place in the Lylatian navy, but the Starblazer, as a direct descendant of the technology that made the Arwing famous, could wipe the floor with any older generation of fighters, and that was all Imperial remnants and corsairs would be able to field. Though, Bill had his doubts that that newest members of his squadron would be up to snuff. It was even harder to remember that many of his closest friends used to fly the positions the rookies now had, and the new pilots had only taken on pirates and simple raiders, nothing like the Imperial Purge.
The Purge was the unofficial name of the campaign that marked the destruction of the last great Imperial Venom strongholds in Lylat. With the killing of High Admiral Rosker and Generals Streng and Dunnheld, the final remnants of Andross' former army had been rooted out and annihilated. It had been a short, but hellish affair that had sorely tested the resolve of the Systems Corps, being a monumental task for the infant armed force. Peppy knew it had to be done to finally realize peace in Lylat, and was willing to throw all of his tactical know-how and newly acquired resources into the struggle. Though the birth of the Corps had looked wonderful on the news and on paper, Bill had lived through the grim reality. It had required the immediate reorganization of thousands of chains of command, the integration of units that had never fought alongside one another, the melding of several different planetary cultures and levels of technology into an immediate, ad-hoc force that could take the fight to a suicidal, determined enemy. Sensing the end was near, the Imperial remnant came out of hiding and launched blitzkrieg attacks on distant parts of the system, attacking colonies and mining stations since they couldn't handle anything bigger. Their paltry fleet was made of up of grizzled, die-hard veterans and the most vicious pirates and mercenaries money could buy. It was suicide. They had proven the rumors of their existence true to all of Lylat, which meant their destruction was now inevitable. But they didn't care.
Bill had led his squadron straight into the heart of the ramshackle fleet, blowing apart obsolete fighters that fought with grim determination. Two weeks of chasing a fleet that was ready to die cost three thousand four hundred twenty two Lylatian lives, far more than anyone would have wanted. A drop in the bucket compared to the total population of the system, but for the front-line troops that was almost four thousand old faces simply gone, Bill's squadron among them. A suicide fighter had detonated an old Nova bomb directly beneath them as they were making a run on a half-destroyed Imperial carrier still spitting laser fire. Bill survived. Most of his friends didn't. Three died instantly, with only gravestones and their belongings as testament they had ever existed.
One, Thomas Young, an upstanding bull, had his ship sheared in two and survived almost freezing to death in the vacuum of space as his damaged flight suit gave way. He had been stationed groundside since the incident had given him a fear of flying. The other, old sergeant Vance, had been reassigned to a desk job. Bill stayed on with the fleet. He often wondered why, sometimes, but that was always, immediately answered when he saw fresh new faces. He never wanted to see those faces relegated to photos and memories before their time again.
The fact that some of them could be quite easy on the eyes helped, too.
"Red four, tighten up with the formation. We're on parade, remember?" he said into his comm-link. The grizzled, mature voice he spoke with always surprised him. He never lost his southern Papetoon accent, but it was muted now. More of a voice for the masses, and not quite as bright as it had once been.
"Sorry, sir. Just got carried away with the view!" a perky voice answered, the comm system lighting up a hologram that revealed a pretty female spaniel, her helmet slightly too big to accommodate her ears.
"Aw, Fay, always focusing on looks. At least I got the talent!" a brash voice intruded into the system next. Bill shot his head to the left as a lynx appeared in the air next to him.
"Pilot," Bill said with measured patience, "why is your visor up? You know that's against regulations."
"I can hardly see in this thing! How am I supposed to fly one of the most advanced fighters in the galaxy if I can't see?"
"You went over this in training, I'm sure," Bill replied slowly. "It's to display your HUD and give you real-time information via the-"
"All right, all right, I'll put the stupid thing down…"
"You'll put the stupid thing down, what?"
"Sir."
Bill shook his head and kept flying. How those two ever made it in independent flight careers was beyond him. The most amazing thing was they weren't half-bad pilots. They had flown with the planetary garrison of Macbeth against the Aparoids and did a stint of independent piloting during the Anglar invasion before joining up with Systems Corps, the new peace quickly drying up most contract opportunities for all but the most renowned and powerful mercenary groups. Star Fox's legacy was to inspire many pilots to try their own hand at modifying their own ships and fighting whatever evil they could, and the creation of the Systems Corps allowed them to keep a chance to fly and have their day in the spotlight. The result was thousands of indie pilots from all walks of life joining the Corps as it prepared to shuttle Lylat into a new future, and none of them had the slightest clue how to be part of a proper army. Pilots like Bill had been stuck seeing them safely into the new world. He wasn't too worried about these two. Fay had passed her tests with flying colors in fact, merging with the Starblazer's new systems like she had always flown it, and Miyu had an impressive kill record. And yet they still managed to act so… innocent.
Bill envied them something fierce.
"Red group, report."
"All clear, Station," Bill replied to the cold, authoritative voice that crackled into his headset. "We've got nothing out here but a beautiful sight."
He turned back to his canopy and looked out at the full power of the Lylat Navy. A gathering of pure military power had been assembled, to assure the battered citizens of Corneria that it was safe, and Lylat was ready to stand on its own. Three full battle groups of Vanguard class frigates and escorting Bulldog class cruisers were in position around Corneria, with the flagship Solar hovering near Alliance Station. The huge orbital outpost stood guard over the massive jump gate that would make easy interstellar travel possible at last, with news shuttles and ferries for dignitaries flowing in and out. It had been expanded on greatly since the Aparoid war, and was more than capable of safely housing up to eight thousand permanent residents. The new peace and unity Lylat was under meant it had been significantly demilitarized, and there was talk of making it into a sort of high end floating hotel and transit station for eventual hopeful colonists, as well as a gathering place for Lylatian diplomats and planetary governors. Bill had only seen pictures of the inside, but it seemed like the place to be if you were rich and influential. They were even making plans about turning it into a diplomatic center and base of operations for future interstellar relations with whatever else might be out there.
Bill knew he'd probably never really get the chance to leave their solar system. It was dangerous, but private ventures would take most of the spearheading, and he'd likely be relegated to keeping Lylat itself safe.
"So, major," Miyu cut into his thoughts, "are we ever going to, you know, see the inside of this place, or is our brush with history limited to just flying circles around it?"
"We'll land when we're ordered to, and not a moment before," Bill answered her.
They continued their patrol around to the front of the station, and even Bill had to admit that the view was breathtaking. They swooped low over the hull of a frigate, getting a panoramic view of the entire area. Lights and ships were everywhere. Not a single place in the sky had a spot where the eyes could rest. Shuttles danced between the smooth, clean lines of Lylatian dreadnoughts and cruisers, parade formations of fighters blazed happy trails in and around all of it. Lights danced over free-floating navigation buoys and lit up the face of Alliance Station, which shined like a holiday tree in the middle of the beehive of spacecraft. It mesmerized the major so much, he jumped in his seat when Station's voice thundered at him.
"Red group, we've got an unknown contact closing in fast. Investigate immediately. This thing is big."
Bill blinked and looked to his HUD. Sure enough a large contact was dropping out of warp speed nearby, startling just about anyone who was looking at a scanner screen. It was far outside the designated flight areas, and Bill didn't know of any new arrivals that were coming late. Bill and his squadron swooped towards it, moving fast to intercept the contact right where it would leave subspace and enter visual range. The greyhound felt his heart jump into his throat. What if the catastrophe he'd feared was really happening, and something terrible was coming to ruin all they had worked for?
"Fay, Miyu, form up on my wing, get ready for contact. Probably some unauthorized news vessel trying to get a good angle or something…"
He said it as though it weren't a big deal, but the ship that was incoming was definitely larger than usual. Initial scans put it at the dreadnought class. Bill's mind raced. Was it a final Venomian Imperial remnant making some kind of suicide attack? The thought chilled him. There was no way that they could try something like that here, now, not after their remaining fleet had been smashed. Yet as the large target streaked towards them, and his laser cannons powered up just in case, he couldn't shake an ominous feeling that had the fur itching on the back of his neck.
"Do you think it's pirates?" Miyu asked. "I hope it's pirates. I haven't seen action since the Anglars, for crying out loud!"
"We had a skirmish at Sector Z just three months ago!" Fay argued.
"Yeah, well, three months is a long time to go and not waste any spacer scum," Miyu shot back.
"Pilots! Cut the chatter!" Bill barked. "Both of you shut your cans and stay in formation! We're gonna see it in a few seconds!"
It left subspace and Bill's scanners read it immediately, though he couldn't believe the readings, or his eyes. He felt his heart flutter for a moment in his chest, and for the barest of moments he believed that he was just drifting through a daydream instead of a patrol route. His mouth dropped slack open inside his helmet. It couldn't be. It couldn't. He thought it had been put in dry dock, never to return, ever since he disappeared…
"Is that…" Fay whispered, sounding just as shocked as he felt.
"It is. Damn it and all that's holy, it is!"Miyu squealed.
The Great Fox streamed by, its proud profile slicing through the void, aiming straight for Alliance Station. It was in front of them only for a few seconds before it passed them by. Bill continued to stare straight ahead at the starry void left behind it, his mouth hanging open and his fingers loose on the controls. A ghost had just flown by his canopy, a legend he had never thought he would see fly again. It had been too long, years even, since he had last seen that beautiful ship in flight. Miyu and Fay were jabbering back and forth about how it was impossible, it was incredible, amazing, heart-stopping, and did it mean that Fox himself had come to Alliance Station, but the buzzing of their voices was lost amongst memories that danced between his ears. The mere thought of flying by their and everyone else's childhood hero had his squadmates thrown back into schoolgirl years. Then the voice came, over the general broadcast frequency, letting them and everyone else know exactly who was on the ship. Bill's heart skipped a beat.
"This is Fox McCloud. I hope I'm not late for the party. You guys got any room for the Great Fox in the middle of all that mess?"
Bill stammered. Not a single person in the entire Station, or any ship around it, could gather the wherewithal to answer their prodigal hero one-on-one.
"If I'm not mistaken, I still have security clearance to take my own ship into dock," Fox spoke again, sounding amused at the stupefied lack of noise his arrival had caused. "So, while you guys figure out if I'm a ghost or not, I'll just slide my baby on in here…"
Bill found his voice, and the shout that had been waiting in his lungs was let loose in a rush of emotion.
"Foooox!"
"Yeah, Bill, it's me," Fox McCloud answered as he settled back in the familiar grooves of his captain's chair. This incarnation of his father's vessel was still new and not quite lived in, but no matter how chairs they replaced, his body always seemed to create the same, comfortable recesses in his chair. He liked to think his father sat with the same bored, happy confidence he was possessed of as he sprawled over the furniture, listening to an old friend celebrate his arrival.
"Fox, you selfish, arrogant bastard! What the hell, man!"
"Oh, he's happy. I can tell," Slippy Toad said from his regular spot behind Fox, where he monitored all the ship's inner workings. He was smiling to where his cheek dimples looked like small coconuts stuffed into his face.
"Ecstatic, yeah. I was thinking about giving them time to adjust, but. Figured, what the hell." Fox turned back to the communication port.
"It's good to see you too, Bill. I've been waiting to hear your voice."
"Like hell you have! Look at you! You… you act like nothing's changed! You're just flying in like it's nobody's business!"
"Has it changed? I wondered on the way here," Fox mused, watching ships ahead of him rush to clear a path. "Maybe it all has. Maybe I just felt like pretending it didn't… I missed a lot."
"Hell. I missed you, Fox. We all did."
Fox felt his chest tighten.
"I know, Bill. But I'm back now. And I'm here to stay." Embraced by sudden inspiration, he reared out of his seat. "Slippy, video on. I want them to see me." Slippy hesitated, finger hovering, before he pushed the button. Everyone who had the capability to could now see the legend in the flesh. News anchors shouted for their cameras to start broadcasting Fox instead of themselves, station attendants and guests stood in silence no matter how important their business, intrigued by the sudden, bold interruption if not by the fact that they recognized Lylat's greatest hero. Captains ceased giving orders on their ships. And in a small room set aside for them to prepare for the day's proceedings, Falco, Lucy, and Peppy stood slack-jawed as they watched a vid-screen.
"You're live, Fox. All over Corneria, I'd bet," Slippy notified him, and waved for the cameras. Fox spread his arms.
"Hello. I'm going live because I wanted this going on record. So people could know how I really feel. My name is Fox McCloud. This is no recording, no fabricated set-up. I just arrived here, and nobody else knew I was coming but me. I am the leader of Star Fox. For the past year and a half, I've been gone from Lylat, into the darkest places of space I could reach. I abandoned Lylat. Abandoned all of you. I left because I thought I had nothing left to hope for here. I thought what I'd really cared for had gone, and I had to go find it again. After the Anglar invasion my mind, my heart was in pieces. I had forgotten what I was supposed to do. I had forgotten the charge left behind by another hero, whose name I'm only barely worthy of carrying on… my father, James. He didn't just leave me a ship and a team. He left me, and all of us, a charge. A responsibility. A legacy. He died in the name of preserving peace, and fighting against a tyrant. He died because he didn't want anyone else dying in his place. When he flew against Andross he wasn't doing it alone. He knew others would follow. Others like me. I had almost been ready to give up the path my father laid out before me."
He didn't know where it was coming from, but Fox felt his heart swell. He stepped closer to the viewscreen and took in the view of Alliance Station, of Corneria shining behind it. His home, everything he had helped to build and protect, was right there. He pointed into the camera, and the gesture was intimately felt by every Lylatian who was watching.
"And now I look, and I see an entire solar system ready to follow in my father's footsteps! What you've built here is proof that I can go to sleep soundly, knowing that all of Lylat is standing with me! I tore the heart out of Imperial Venom, destroyed Andross, and looked into his face before he died! I flew right into the heart of the Aparoid homeworld and knew the terror of an enemy that had no remorse! I cut the Anglar invasion in half! But I did not do it alone! Everything I did, I did with my team at my side, and Lylat at my back! You fought, and bled, and died right with me, and I was blind not to see it until now! I went down that road because that was the path opened by my father's bravery. I followed his footsteps, and you took up the call right alongside me. And now where there was just empty space, Alliance Station is here. You are all here, and we are ready to tell the galaxy, the universe what we can do together! We are no longer a system torn apart by war and chaos! No longer just the Cornerian Alliance, Imperial Venom, or ragtag colonies! We are one people, with one dream, and one voice!
"WE ARE LYLAT!"
It was incredible. They could hear the cheering echoing throughout the station, through doors and bulkheads.
Peppy was incredulous, his arms limp at his sides, ears drooping. Lucy had taken his arm and took a deep, shivering breath, feeling tears in her eyes.
"Hey… Peppy," the General heard Falco mutter out of the side of his beak. "I think we can ditch the speech prompts."