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[Star Fox: Universe [R]aid]

Jack Russo

Star Fox and characters within the Nintendo universe are copyright their respected owners.

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Chapter One: Nothing is Routine Anymore

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Lylat - Present Day (10 years later) Corneria Territory Planet: Papetoon Papetoon Naval Academy for Young Recruits

"Fox McCloud. Wow. What a show off," muttered voices among a crowd of onlookers who stood behind a chained fence at the academy shooting range. "Of course he'll be able to pull off this stunt."

Fox was accustomed to the remarks his peers made since his transfer into the academy three years ago. He had first thought that being the son of the great Commander James McCloud came with an easy pass into popularity, but it had proven the opposite. Students gave him harsh looks and claimed his deeds to be under favoritism. Though, at the moment, he drowned out all the comments and focused his attention onto a disassembled blaster on the table in front of him.

The objective of this drill was to reassemble the weapon, making sure to properly secure the energy crystal into its chamber to avoid a backfire. Then, take aim at marked targets placed twenty meters in front of them and fire a critical shot. It wasn't anything too difficult for Fox and he was aware the other four students who were competing with him knew as well. Heaven forbid the vulpine hold himself back for their sake. Behind them, the murmuring of spectating students continued.

"Falco, I love you!" shouted a female student, who was reprimanded immediately by the instructor. The student beside Fox turned to the crowd of onlookers and waved with a grin, his blue feathers glistening under the Papetoon sun. He gave out a cocky hoot and turned to give the vulpine a scowl before setting his attention back on the instructor.

"What a bastard," Fox said under his breath. If there was anyone in the academy that grated his nerves it was Falco Lombardi. What made matters worse was that Falco was the spearhead of anything anti-Fox on campus. He and his fan club would make up whatever rumor they wanted and he'd be the first to vouch all of it was true. Who was receiving special attention? Of course it was Fox. Who sucks up to all the teachers? Fox. Who was it that used a special fighter jet for practice? Fox, just to look good. And most recently, who was it that can't get a girlfriend because he wasn't well...endowed in certain areas? Fox.

It was all juvenile but after keeping a strong front for so long the vulpine was running out of patience. A few times he had thought about reporting the harassment but felt that would only prove their point. Should the instructors and the administration do anything in his favor it would only cement the belief that he was receiving special treatment. Fox had to do everything on his own, even if it meant that he'd be ridiculed for it. It never looked good when an eighteen-year-old couldn't even stand up to his peers.

"Alright, recruits," began their instructor. He was a stern-faced bull dog who didn't take disrespect lightly. "You all know what is expected of you here. The top five of your class have been arranged before you to show just how well they know their own guns."

"Unfortunately for you brats, we didn't take your precious toys and, instead, gave you salvaged gear from previous battles." This was met with disapproving grunts from the students. "If you're out in the field and you've lost your own weapon, you may need to take another. One you are not so intimate with. You may be stuck with that gun for a long time and you'll still need to know how to take care of it. How to clean it. Especially, how to repair it."

Fox stared back at the disassembled pieces before him, taking stock of the barrel, the hilt, and the energy crystal. In his mind he began reshaping it, connecting piece by piece until he was certain his mental trial was sufficient for the real test. The instructor raised his muscular arm in the air and shouted a quick command for attention. The vulpine eyed him intently, not intending to lose to Falco.

"Recruits! Begin!"

All five of the recruits grasped at the fragmented weapons on the tables. Some stumbled and a few pieces fell to the ground, granting Fox an opportunity to take a quick lead. His paws recounted the steps he took in his head: grab the hilt, attach the barrel to this piece, and carefully place in the energy crystal. Almost everything was the same as his own weapon and it made him wonder if he was making any errors. He gave Falco a quick glance and saw that the both of them were neck and neck with each other. They met each other's gaze, never leaving eye contact as they assembled the final piece of their weapon. Simultaneously, they raised their blasters, aimed toward the targets ahead of them and...

With a loud hiss, a charged blast escaped from Foxes barrel and burned into dummy target in front of him. A critical head shot. Taking a glance over at Falco's target, he was astonished to see that there was no hint of impact. He heard the avian cursing, his weapon shattered and the feathers on his hand lightly burnt. Amidst the cries of surprise from his classmates rang two other shots and one last shout as another weapon backfired.

"Enough," barked out their instructor. "Three successes and two failures. Bill, Baxter, good job," he said taking steps toward Fox. "Fox, your father would be proud. You've tied him with the record of fastest reassembly of a weapon. Though, it looks like you are a better shot than him." This made Fox grin, knowing he beat his own dad at something, but the disapproving whispers in the crowd quickly cleared his face.

"And you two," he said sternly, his attention at Falco and their last classmate, a husky named Walt, "meet in my office and we will discuss just how important it is that you do not put in your energy crystals backward! The rest of you, return your guns to the registry at the entrance of the academy. Dismissed!"

Fox grabbed his blaster and locked in the safety before holstering it at his hip. A few soldiers shuffled out to clean up the targets in the distance as Fox gave his mark one last good look with a sigh. No doubt he was the best shot out of all his peers; the other students' shots were only on the arm or lower torso. However, with the shadow of his father looming around every corner Fox felt there was no way anyone would acknowledge him for how well he had done. Anyone beside his teachers and father of course. Shaking his head, he turned away toward the academy doors.

The two students who also passed their demonstration, Baxter and Bill, were with him at the back of the group. Bill, a pit-bull dog, gave Fox a grin and a thumbs up before rushing ahead of...

"Oh, my poor Falco!"

Fox rolled his eyes and sped up with the others to avoid the bird and his pink feline friend cradling his injured hand.

"It's nothing," he could hear the avian say. "I bet that stupid Fox did something to my blaster. Probably got his set up special for him."

"Oh I bet," echoed the feline, glaring at Fox's direction while loudly adding, "We all know that McCloud gets special attention!"

"Hey, McCloud," Falco jeered, joining in. "It's impolite to ignore a lady! Ain't that right, Katt?" She hissed and laughed in agreement. "Why don't you run back to daddy and tell him golden boy aced another cheat display."

"Fuck off, Falco," shouted Fox. "Maybe if you actually knew how to use a blaster you'd still have enough feathers to fly!"

If birds could change color, Falco would be a prime example; his blue face began to flush into many shades of red. He ran toward the vulpine, ignoring Katt as she yanked her hand back. Fox bolted away, merely a good ten yards away from the academy doors. He pulled out the blaster and holster from his waist and shoved it into the arms of a canine soldier who barked out in protest. Unfortunately for Falco, Fox was also known for his speed. Like gliding through air, he made his way down the long hallway, avoiding other students while rushing into an elevator. Falco's curses could be heard, though distant, as the doors shut. It was a good moment to catch his breath and Fox allowed himself to slide down and sit on the floor.

That was the first time he had shouted back at Falco. He grinned, feeling proud of himself for standing up to the jerk. Even more so than with how well he did at the range. "That's right you bastard," he said with a chuckle. "I'll show you just how much better I am."

The doors opened and the vulpine stepped out into a large, indoor, circular expanse. The glass ceiling kept the area very bright and allowed green plants to grow at the bottom floor of the quad. There were five main levels of the academy, the first four floors representing classrooms and offices for the students based on their age and class year. The final and top floor was set apart only for enlisted soldiers and officers. It contained many rooms which Fox assumed were used for secret meetings and debriefings he was not yet privy to. Normally students were also prohibited from entering the floor, but as James McCloud's son, Fox was 'awarded' the opportunity. On the opposite end of the elevators was an opening which extended into a glass covered bridge leading in four different directions. One way led toward the military installment, another to the industrial compound, and the final to the living quarters, where Fox made his way toward. Outside, the barren Papetoon land reflected the deep oranges and purples of impending night. No matter how beautiful the desert planet appeared to be, Fox felt loathing for the schooling he had to endure.

"Well I heard you did quite amazing today."

Fox turned his head and smiled. "Hey, Dad." James McCloud stood at the same height of his son, dressed up in full uniform. "It was alright."

"Just alright?" His father gave a throaty laugh, tail wagging. "Son, I heard you aimed right at the target's head. Straight in the middle. I'd say that's amazing. Your instructor says you were the top of the group."

The younger vulpine frowned. "I wish you didn't have to speak with the instructors so often. It makes things look bad."

"C'mon, let's keep walking home," James suggested, nudging his son out of the evening sun seeping through the glass. "Tell me about it. Does this have to do with that Falco troublemaker again?"

"Yes and no," Fox admitted while scratching behind his ears. "It's just, no matter what I do or how well I do it, nothing seems to amaze any of the other students here. I can make a perfect, critical shot and no one cares."

"I can assure you the officers have been watching."

"That's different."

"You're right," James agreed. "They're the ones with opinions that truly matter."

Fox shrugged. "Hell, I can do loops using my arwing and my class will quickly cry foul."

"Don't forget you are the only one who has his own, personal arwing," his father chimed in.

"You're not helping!" Fox groaned. "I just hate it here. I miss my old school back in Corneria."

"Ah, this again," James mused. "Son, I know things are difficult here but you know how the military works. They tell me to go someplace and I must go."

"Yeah, but you get the choice to refuse or not!"

"That's true," he surrendered. "But this is where your mother and I raised you before she died and I had thought it'd be good for you to come back."

Fox rolled his ears back. "Only bad things happen here." His father didn't reply. "I wish I was just a normal guy here sometimes. Just a regular kid who's good work actually gave him some credibility."

"You don't mean that," his father started.

"But I do!" Fox snapped back, ears twitching. "If I had a normal family no one would accuse me of being the favorite. I wish I wasn't your son sometimes."

"Fox," James trailed off. They continued their way to the front doors of their loft in silence. It was, ironically, the best unit housing on the campus and base. James shuffled for the key card in his pockets and unlocked the door. They slid open, expectantly, though the two vulpine men stood still. "You ready for dinner, kiddo," asked James, a small frown on his muzzle.

Fox thought for a moment, feeling guilty for his comments earlier. "No, not just yet. I think...I...whatever, I just need to walk some more. Alone."

"Don't be too late," replied James, stepping inside and letting the doors close behind him. Fox stared blankly at them before making his way to the nearest elevator. He pressed the down button and entered, hitting another button labeled G.

He was greeted by the hum of conversations and a vast crowd of students, military and civilians alike. He spied at the number of stores and restaurants that littered the lowest level of the living quarters. There were a few students who Fox recognized but no one he needed to avoid as he walked aimlessly, taking stock of the new gadgets each shop had on display in their front windows. At one point he saw Bill chatting with a few of his friends. The bulldog waved a friendly greeting but Fox only nodded and walked on.

An hour flew by before the vulpine finally settled for a coffee and seated himself on a lonely bench in a commercial plaza, eyeing a few younger children splashing in the fountain at the center. Apologizing to his father was plaguing his mind. Yet, the guilt was also combating his own justification that life would be better if he was just like the ordinary kids in his class. Fox leaned back and stared up at the ceiling, the glass black from night.

"Fox?" A green figure peered over his vision and was giving him an inquisitive look. "It is you! Wow!"

He returned to a more comfortable position in his chair and greeted his new guest. "Hey. You...obviously know me but I don't know you."

"Oh, I'm Slippy." He was a green toad that Fox swore looked familiar. "I know I'm an underclassman but you helped me out during last month's drills," he added, noticing the vulpine's curious look.

"Oh, Slippy!" Fox replied, acting as if he did remember. "How are you? Sorry, I've just been out of it today."

"Why's that? I thought you would've been having a wonderful day!" Slippy said with enthusiasm. "Having tied with the best reassembly time and making a perfect, critical shot on a target!"

"Well, if you put it that way," he blushed. He had never had a fan before.

"Oh it was amazing! I didn't see it in person, no. But it was on holo-vid over campus. Really neat stuff."

"I wasn't aware it was televised."

"It wasn't, but one of the members from film club brought his camera and streamed it over the net."

"I see," grinned Fox. "I guess that makes me mister popular?"

"Well," started Slippy, "most of the club wanted Falco to win, but I was rooting for you the whole time!"

"Oh," Fox replied, his ears flattening.

"No, no, I'm sorry. There were others rooting for you too! It's just hard being so open about it with Falco and all."

"I know how that is." Fox sighed and looked away. "Seems like he has it in for me."

The toad took the chance to observe the vulpine closely. He had very youthful features though his eyes were dark with longing. They shouted out in fury of the loneliness and anger he had to have felt since his transfer to Papetoon Academy. "Excuse me for asking, Fox, but do you have any friends here?"

Fox jumped at the question. "I, uh, of course! I have friends! Most of them are busy with my father."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. Just busy. Like, General Peppy! He's -"

"Is that, Headmaster Peppy, you mean?"

"Well...yeah. But he and my dad have been pals forever so -"

"Fox, I mean on campus. Any of the students?"

The vulpine hesitated then slumped. "No. Not really." He looked sheepishly back at Slippy. "Is that weird?"

"Well... You are the son of Commander James McCloud. That should do something for you."

Fox scoffed. "The only thing that has done is make things worse. Everyone thinks I get special treatment."

"You do live in the best loft in the building, you gotta' admit." Fox glared back a moment and then laughed. "Did I say something funny," smiled Slippy.

"No. Yes. It's just, when you put it that way, it is kind of special treatment."

"Then would you like to live in the barracks with the rest of us?"

"Hell no!" Fox took a sip at his coffee. "Seriously, though. Falco sort of just took charge of my social life and stomped on it the moment I moved in. It's not like I don't work hard at what I do. I wish the others can see that."

"They do," admitted Slippy, meeting Fox's gaze. "You may not know it but a lot of people respect you. They may mostly be underclassmen but we do hear things. I know Bill has a respect for you and, even if he is an odd ball, he's one of the guys who isn't afraid to let Falco know it."

Fox let that sink in for a moment before nodding, though not entirely convinced.

"And if it helps," Slippy added, "I admire you. You're amazing at things like shooting, flying. Almost everything. And I want you to know that you're my idol. I strive to do what you do. I want to be as good as you, someday."

The vulpine couldn't hide his blushing. No one had paid him that kind of compliment since his transfer. No one who wasn't a friend of his father's. "Thanks, Slip," he stammered. "That means a lot to me."

"Don't mention it," the toad smiled back. "By the way, not that I'm not having a good time or anything, but you do have flight trials tomorrow, right? Should you be resting?"

"I had almost forgot," jumped Fox. He tossed his empty coffee cup into a nearby garbage can and turned to Slippy one last time. "Hey, thanks for cheering me up. I was in a slump there."

"You've thanked me a lot already," he smiled back. "But if it helps, I can be a friend to you if you want. Even if I'm an underclassman. And you know, break this Falco routine."

"Sure. And we'll make sure nothing is routine anymore," Fox smiled. "I'll catch you later." He gave one last wave and made his way back up the elevator that led to his loft, a grin on his face.

At the front of his door he thought he overheard voices speaking on the other side. Probably just dad watching television, he thought as he fumbled through his pocket for the keycard. "Dad, I'm sorry I'm late," he began but stopped when he entered into the living room. Two other men were there along with his father, all still in full uniform. "Oh, I didn't know we were having guests."

"Fox," James said, his voice firm, "go to your room now. The General, Pigma and I have much to discuss."

He took a quick glance at all three of them. They all wore frowns which only darkened the mood more in the silence. Pigma, one of James's friends Fox rarely met, kept twitching on the living room sofa. A chubby pig with dark eyes and two tusks that gave him the look of an under-bite. Peppy stood, giving him a discerning eye, with his hands held behind him and his rabbit ears lazily drooping at mid-length. "Alright," he said with curiosity.

"Fox," Peppy merely nodded before turning back to his father. "Shall we continue this in your study?"

"Yes. That's a good idea," agreed James, leading them to the opposite end of the loft. There was a soft click and hiss as Fox could hear the doors slide open. His father turned the corner one last time to give his son a nod before disappearing inside with the other guests.

Rather than go into his room as instructed, Fox shrugged and stepped into the kitchen, taking stock of what could be easily heated in the microwave from the fridge before deciding on leftover pork chops from a few nights before. His paw grasped onto the heated meal and made his way into the living room, choosing to slump on the floor and lean on the sofa than sit on it. While cutting into his meal he heard a cough coming from the other end of the hallway and a shout. His ears cocked up to see if he could pick up anything else on what the older men were discussing. Unable to hold back his curiosity, he stood back up and softly stepped next to the office doors.

Their voices were muffled but he could barely make out, "It's outrageous! To think they won't do anything to support us," rang Pigma's anxious voice. He nudged forward a bit more and let his ears cup against the doors.

Peppy was speaking this time. "It stands to show that the Galatic Federation doesn't and will not involve itself in matters it deems are beyond its jurisdiction. Be it a human matter or not, the Midgard Empire is free to expand its reach unopposed."

"And here we thought they were only after the colonies in the outskirts of Lylat," his father muttered. "What is Corneria's take on this?"

"They're clearly exasperated by the encroachment but parliament is unsure on how to approach it."

"Then could this mean the Empire has taken interest in the Corneria system after all? Are they preparing for invasion? Parliament has to decide on what course of action to take!"

"Rather they don't want to," fumed Pigma. "All I know is what I saw on recon. Scans show increased activity around and on Venom's surface. Development has gone from nothing to a near metropolis in less than a year. That kind of thing doesn't just happen."

There was the sound of liquid pouring into a glass followed by a brief silence before the conversation continued. "Are we to assume the General/Doctor is involved," asked James.

Peppy hesitated. "There isn't much news on Andross since he defected out of the military but the general consensus is that he is working with the Empire now."

"How did that come about?"

"He was very vocal in his support of surrendering to Midgard. It wasn't a popular position, of course. Not to mention his research on terraforming and the manipulation of Venom's environment to become sufficient for life. Everything points to him."

Fox shuffled to get into a more comfortable position. He wasn't quite sure what was going on or who this Andross guy was, but his curiosity wasn't yet satiated. "He is involved," he heard Pigma stutter, followed by the sound of shuffling papers.

"Who?"

"Andross, here."

There was another pause. "It does look like him, doesn't it?"

"If that's the case then he has indeed gone traitor," James said.

"Where did you get these images from," asked Peppy. Fox was curious as to what they had to be looking at.

"Took them myself."

"Pigma! You were not supposed to land on Venom during recon!"

"Does it matter now? I saw an opportunity and I took it. But here, see! That's Andross and those are Imperial soldiers."

The men paused before James asked, "This looks like they are becoming militant. Notice his uniform. Is that Imperial?"

"I'm not sure. But see those insignias on the human soldiers? That's an Imperial Aegis. That one a Longinus. The Lylatians with the humans are..."

"Also uniformed..."

Peppy grunted, "What is that over there?"

"Where?"

"Here. Looks like a Lylatian but the build is off. Taller. Jackal like. Is he some sort of officer? Those robes..."

"I don't know," confessed Pigma. "They gave off some weird vibes though." He paused before adding, "I can't explain it. Just a gut feeling."

"Have you sent these into headquarters," asked Peppy.

"Soon. But Papetoon is the closest facility I could reach from Venom."

"Then we're in danger," James concluded. "The school and base would make for a good outpost for us and them, should we lose it. We should raise the alert level. Inform Corneria."

"Not just yet," Peppy interrupted. "These images suggest Andross's involvement but not any aggression yet."

"And the Imperial presence doesn't," Pigma said in disbelief.

"What do you suggest we do," asked James.

"We'll need more information. Pigma, you'll need to go back."

"What!? Why," the pig demanded. "This should be enough."

"I want to be sure," Peppy added. "James, you go with him. Perhaps two set of eyes will be better. It's not that I don't trust you, Pigma, we just really need to be sure. We don't want to provoke the Empire into attacking the home system if we are mistaken."

"We'll leave tomorrow morning then," James said. "Understood, Pigma?"

"Fine," he replied reluctantly. "But like I've said, things are getting bad."

"Very well," said Peppy, followed by the sound of shuffling feet. Fox sprang up and made for his room, leaving the door cracked enough to peer out at the men. "I'll inform the engineers to get your fighters ready. As for me, I'll take the next shuttle out and report our findings to Corneria in person."

"How soon will you return?"

"We shall see. Parliament loves to drag its heels. Anyway, tell Fox I said good night and good luck with his flight tomorrow."

"I will," James replied. "He won't be happy to hear I'll miss it but he'll understand. Pigma, you staying?"

"No," answered the pig. "If we're leaving tomorrow there are a few things I need to do before setting out. I'll see you at 400."

The sound of the sliding doors hissing shut prompted Fox to jump to his bed and grab the nearest book on his nightstand. His father's footsteps became louder and his door slid open fully. He looked up at him, expectantly.

"I see you've found analytic geometry fascinating."

Fox glanced at his book, realizing it was also upside down. "Very," he replied flatly.

James took a seat next to Fox on his bed. "If you are like me, as I expect you are, you heard enough to know what's going on."

"Is it really that bad?"

James stared at his son's face, unsure how to reply. "Not yet," he decided on. "But we'll be certain soon. I'll be gone for a bit but don't you worry. You just think about showing everyone what an amazing pilot you are tomorrow." He took the chance to pat his son on the head.

"Dad!" Fox protested, his father laughing.

"I'll see you in the morning, kiddo."

"Dad," began Fox, stopping his father before the door shut. "I'm sorry about earlier."

His father grinned back. "I'm used to teenagers, son. Don't worry about it. Good night."

"G'night."