FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Edited by wellifimust and Psydrosis

Word count: 6,643

---

**~ 6 YEARS BEFORE THE LYLAT WARS ~

[SECTOR Y - CORNERIAN MONTH 3, DAY 3 - 23:29 CIVIC TIME]**

"Gotcha!" the pig rasped through his Arwing's microphone, scoring another kill on the enemy fleet.

The spacecraft surged past Peppy in search of its next target. Outside of the rabbit's cockpit window, swirls of distant stars sprinkled the vast expanse of space like grains of sugar floating on top of a black, bitter coffee. Jagged shards of debris soared about as they spun and caught the light of the neighbouring Lylat star.

Peppy blinked exhaustedly, turning his gaze down to the fluorescent dots peppering the harsh blue light of his radar.

The Arwing's communications system whirred with static before a stoic fox head appeared. "Nice shots, guys!" he praised, adjusting his trademark sunglasses with his fingertips. "We're almost done here. I've got one more on my radar, so let's sic 'em!"

Peppy gripped the control sticks and vaulted them to the side, causing the Arwing to jolt into a weighty u-turn. Examining the radar again, Peppy noticed a red dot blinking fast behind the yellow arrow of an allied ship before he glanced up in panic, affirming the system's detection of a speeding insectile machine targeting a lone-flying Arwing.

"Pigma!" Peppy spat into the intercom, "There's a bogey on yer tail!"

"Wh-wha!?" the portly pig stuttered. His ship swerved around, yet the enemy remained diligently locked on behind him.

The eternally-restrained voice of James McCloud called through the radio, "Peppy! I'm back in quad one. You step up!"

At the command, Peppy shoved the Arwing's handles forward, rocking his ship into a boost that swung him to save Pigma.

"Get 'im!" Pigma wailed. "I can't shake 'im!"

Peppy squinted through the green tint of his eyepiece, aligning his reticle with the enemy.

Pigma's shrill voice returned. "My shields are dyin' over here, please!"

"Peppy, are you locked on?" the leading James cut in.

"Help! Heaalp!" Pigma squealed when a pair of hostile shots grazed his wing.

Peppy held the sticks with an iron grip, edging the sights into his foe's path who, unfortunately, blended well with the backdrop of space. "Almost..." Peppy breathed, before the reticle aligned with a gratifying click. "Got it!"

The rabbit jabbed his thumb into the right stick's button, shooting an array of neon green lasers across the darkness that collided with the enemy ship and flung debris through space. After a handful of shots penetrated the spaceship's shields, lines of smoke trailed from its wings before it exploded into flames and sank out of view.

"Woohoo!" cried Peppy, finally releasing his carefully held breath.

A moment passed before James' voice rose through the speakers. "You got it, Peps," the placid fox lauded. "You all right over there, Pigma? My report says there's damage to your G-Diffuser."

"And the right wing!" Pigma grunted. "It's totalled. I can't spin no more!"

More static transitioned the conversation back to James. "That's fine, we'll take it in for repairs." A series of beeps ranging in pitch sounded as James tapped a gloved hand against his control panel. "Sending a signal to the Great Fox, Sector Y's cleared out. Soak it in, boys!" The fox grinned behind his sunglasses. "What's your status, Peppy?"

Peppy's ship somersaulted back to face the oncoming mothership. "Took a couple hits, but I'm all right!"

"Good thing that's it," Pigma sighed, sliding into formation beside Peppy, "cause this better be a fat paycheck!"

James joined the pair from above. "I'm sure it will be, Pigma. Let's head out!"

[CORNERIA BASE - MONTH 3, DAY 4 - 9:42 CIVIC TIME]

The three pilots and their robot strode down the clamshell steps of the Great Fox together to sparse applause in the spacecraft hangar. Seven men and their general waited from the concrete beneath upon their arrival.

The brown hound dog stepped forward. "Excellent work, Star Fox!" he cheered, retaining a booming formal tone. "You three have done well by the Cornerian Defence Force!"

James marched confidently in front of his crew. "Thanks, General! All in a day's work!"

Peppy looked to Pigma from behind James' back, but darted his eyes away before the expressionless pig caught his gaze.

"General Pepper, sir," ROB, the mechanical operator of the Great Fox, droned, "our Arwing platoon has sustained moderate damage. We must further repair the ships before future deployment."

The general nodded to ROB, before turning back to James, and, with a huff, commenced the arduous process of negotiating a reward for the mercenary team. As Peppy stood loyally, he gazed around and noticed a short female fox darting around other pools of pilots.

"James!" the mechanic cried, sliding by Pepper and embracing her husband.

"Woah, Vixy!" James hugged his wife under his chin, then smiled at the general. "Sorry, Pepper!"

The hound chuckled, openly fidgeting his white-gloved paws. "Oh, of course! I'll give you two a moment. Let me check in with Dr. Andross about our Arwing development."

The McClouds held each other before Vixy broke away. "I'm so glad you're all safe!" she exclaimed in a singsong soprano tone, tilting her head and flicking her black ears. "I know how it must be, fighting inside those cramped little ships!"

"Robots fight too..." ROB mumbled from behind Peppy, head drooping until Vixy acknowledged him with a grin.

"Ah, we'll always be safe!" Peppy assured with a laugh. "James saved our tails out there!"

"Hell, you guys saved yourselves!" James shot back, casually resting with an arm over his wife's shoulders. "Peppy was basically the star of the show!"

Peppy scratched behind his neck and groaned sheepishly. "Aw shucks, James! At least try to let me make ya look good!"

Vixy rolled up a sleeve on her jumpsuit and lightly punched her husband's arm. "You don't need to flatter him, Peppy dear! I know he's hot stuff already! Besides, inflate his ego more and he'll never retire! It'll be right in his head!"

James kissed Vixy between the ears and smirked. "I won't fly forever, just as long as I've got you boys on my wing! What do you say, Peps?"

The hare glanced at Pigma, only to notice that the pilot slipped away during the exchange. He shrugged back at the pair. "Heh. Doubt I'll be flyin' when I'm forty!"

James beamed and rose a paw to adjust his sunglasses before he turned back to Vixy. "All right. How's Fox? How's work? Tell me about it!"

**~ 9 YEARS AFTER THE LYLAT WARS ~

[THE GREAT FOX, OVER THE SKIES OF CORNERIA - MONTH 11, DAY 5 - 17:02 CIVIC TIME]**

"Aw, come on! You've gotta be jokin' me!" Falco cried, slamming a wing on the table and wavering the hologram projected above.

Slippy spread his arms on the table and pulled in several stacks of coins, hardly containing the riches that spilled out over top. "Ehehe! Come to Papa!"

While Falco scowled and the giggling frog hunched over to collect his cash, Peppy sat up straight. "That was a mean play, Slip! Just like I taught 'ya!"

"Haha! You bet, Peppy!" Slippy drew up a webbed hand into a fist and bumped it against the hare's.

Falco slapped his cards on the table and glared. "You colluding against me, Grandpa?"

"Nah," Peppy laughed, "Slippy was just the one who came to me for tips! Where were you?"

"I fly alone," the arrogant pilot grumbled, rubbing under his beak.

"And I fly with fifty years of Peppy strats on my brain!" Slippy grinned, pulling in his cards. "Fox's turn!"

Falco frowned. "Listen here, you little green nuisance! How old's this table? Five, six years?"

Peppy considered that for a moment. "Hey, I've been playin' this since I was in the Academy! Didn't need those fancy-schmancy hologram cards back then and I don't now!"

"Aw gosh!" Falco moaned as he slapped a wing over his face.

Peppy chuckled and stared out at the overwhelming darkness of space, still and peaceful since the previous conflict. The three sat by a window overlooking Corneria's horizon, hunched over Slippy's custom table of Lylat Warfare.

"Geez louise! When's Fox getting back already!? It's been his turn for eons!"

The door to the lounge screeched open. "Present, Major Falco!" Fox joked. "You treat it like your bathroom breaks don't take a whole trip to Sector Z!"

"And you better close that maw of yours before my wing takes a whole trip to your face!" Falco bickered.

Peppy cleared his throat. "Now boys, let's not regress back to age five!"

"Peppy's right," Fox proclaimed as he sat next to Slippy, "Falco already flies the part! Wouldn't wanna get discharged from the army for being an underage pilot!"

"Yeah!" Slippy snickered. "That's, like, totally in Peppy's authority soon!"

"Aw guys, come on! I don't want to nab that position from a friend..." Peppy muttered.

"Hey, don't sweat it! You'll be a way better commander than that softie chump!" Falco crowed, sipping a little too loudly and slapping Peppy on the back.

Fox beheld him with a raised eyebrow. "Yeah, one day you'll be bossing me around instead! Think of it then: General Peppy!"

Peppy's ears drooped with averted eyes. As all faces turned to him, he lowered his eyebrows. "Take yer turn, Fox."

As Fox scanned through his deck, Falco peered at Peppy. "So, uh, who do we add to the team when Peppy moves on, eh?"

Peppy frowned. "I wouldn't be movin' on! You guys are basically a part of me! I've spent, what, ten years with you glued to me now? Eleven?"

"We could always fly as a trio!" Slippy suggested.

Star Fox used to be a trio , he didn't add. Slippy knew that, of course, and he knew just as well not to mention it. At least, Peppy figured so.

"Yea-ah..." Falco breathed, "we probably ain't doin' that." He glanced back to Fox. "Hey, McCloud, can you go already!?"

"Bill Grey," Fox blurted, then stared back up. "I'd like him."

Falco's gaze remained still, and then soured. "Of course you're gay enough to want Bill on our team..."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Ooh!" Slippy squealed. "Falco's jealous!"

"Boys, let's settle down," Peppy warned. It was all for fun, but the aging rabbit knew some of the biting things his teammates could spit at each other. Falco could take anything the wrong way, and more than once had he refused to apologize to an emotionally erratic Slippy.

"Yeah, yeah," Fox reassured him, "but you know, Falco isn't even my biggest crush here!" He slid a grin at the frog.

Slippy's shrill laugh rang through the lounge. "Hehehe! I'm more of a Peppy guy myself!"

"Don't you have a girlfriend?" Falco narrowed his eyes at his little green teammate.

"Sort of! But so did Fox! Doesn't mean we can't rib our teammates, right? Right!?"

"Exactly..." Fox answered, absent-mindedly, as he finally pulled out a card. He flipped it over, laying it out on the table.

With a mechanical snap, a vibrant hologram of a unique Arwing projected from the card's face, spinning transparently in place above rows of his other smaller fleets.

"Woah!" Slippy croaked. "Is that an F-80 Series G-Diffuser!? With Ninth Sector waterproof L-wings?"

"Yep!" Fox grinned. "And some sweet laser cannons!" He drew a paw into his stack of coins and plucked a handful, dropping them on top of the battlefield between his and Falco's armies. Next, he tapped a button on his side of the table, ejecting a wireless microphone that he tugged away.

"I wouldn't do that," Peppy advised, "There's sixty-four-percent odds your fleet falls through and you leave an opening on Corneria."

"Pssh!" Falco bantered, nudging the hare, "Again with the collusion! Let 'em play for themselves!"

Fox spared a smile for Peppy, but lifted the microphone up to his muzzle without further recognition. "Team McCloud," Fox cried into the device, "take Venom!"

**~ 5 YEARS BEFORE THE LYLAT WARS ~

[CORNERIA BASE - MONTH 11, DAY 5 - 17:07 CIVIC TIME]**

"Are you sure about this, Captain McCloud?"

James shot the General an unsteady look. He wasn't wearing his sunglasses. Peppy could see the bags hanging deep below his green eyes, accentuated by uncharacteristically rugged white hair.

"Of course I'm sure, General. We know Andross's whereabouts. Nearby planets sent out distress signals with the coordinates of their base." James' tone was colder than the poles of Fichina.

Several Cornerian Defence captains sat still around a circular conference table. General Pepper and Captain McCloud's voices echoed in the room levied by the ambient sounds of the still blue hologram. The target floating in the center was a large body located on the outer fringes of the Lylat System: Planet Venom.

Pigma fidgeted in his chair before speaking up. "I say we do it." When all eyes turned to him, he forged ahead. "Not just for Macbeth and Papetoon...but for..." he met the weary eyes of James, "your wife...and your son."

Peppy felt something grip his heart. "General Pepper, with all due respect," the pilot spoke zealously, "Mrs. McCloud was an innocent casualty in a target on your own life. Captain McCloud knows better than any of us the havoc this traitor may cause!"

Pepper balled his fists on the cold blue of the table and stared between them. "Yes, but...I fear, Team Star Fox, that you are fighting with emotion, rather than accounting for your own well-being."

"I'm doing what's right, General," Star Fox's captain declared with steel in his voice. "Besides, our forces have charted out Lylat's fringe. We can take one of numerous paths undetected given our data of their radar systems. And..." the fox slid on his sunglasses and leaned back in his chair, "our new Arwing technology is sleeker and more resilient. More firepower and robust shielding on top of fortified wings." He sniffed and nodded towards Pigma.

Pepper grimaced. "I don't like your tone, Captain McCloud," he said through clenched teeth

James sat motionless. "It's your command, General. We don't know what Andross is planning, and if he acts first, it's on us to protect Cornerian lives. Just know that if you give this job to us," James paused with hands tightly intertwined on the table, "we'll get it done."

The General sat back in his chair and worked his jaw. Finally, he stood up. "Break meeting. Return to your positions. And McCloud?"

James broke his stillness to nod.

"We'll discuss this plan tomorrow."

[OVER THE SKIES OF VENOM - MONTH 11, DAY 8 - 1:06 CIVIC TIME]

A brilliant supernova of saturated lights assaulted Peppy's cockpit, forcing the hare to cover his eyes for fear of blindness. He groped for a lever on the left side of his control panel and yanked it, flipping his ship vertically and boosting. Peppy had long past the day where complex maneuvers made him sick, but this battle caused a dizzying effect in his peripheral vision.

"Scratch one bogey mothership!" James proclaimed, flipping his Arwing and tapping speedily at a panel of buttons beside his radar. "How're we holding up, boys?"

Peppy glanced at his shields report: three-quarters full, minor wing damage. "Just as good as you, if not better!" He peered back down into his communications screen to catch James smirking.

"Doubtful, they've hardly touched me," he snorted. "Pigma?"

A few seconds sailed past before Pigma's oblong pink snout popped onto the screen. "Yeah, yeah. I'm good, boss!"

"Fantastic, let's move on. Action in quadrant four."

"Nothing on my radar. Wh--" Peppy gawked through his Arwing's sights, "what is that!?"

A glimmering, white oval sat suspended in space, adjacent to Venom's surface behind: three or four Arwings in width--though Peppy could hardly tell with little frame of reference beyond its location.

"No clue," James answered blankly. "You aren't picking it up on sonar?"

"Negative. Quadrant's blank."

"I see it!" Pigma squealed, "Analyzing now!" The excited pig ran a paw across the green hues of a screen adjacent to his camera before he squinted at it. "It's an escape pod from the mothership!"

"An escape pod?" James furrowed his brow. "I'm not shooting down defenceless soldiers."

"Oh, but..." Pigma added, "I'm detecting zero heat energy, apart from the ship's technology itself. It could be empty," he speculated, "or filled with parts! I bet Andross would reuse machinery over soldiers!"

James tapped his muzzle. "I'd believe it. He's a chimp, not above sacrificing his own army. Any other pods in the vicinity?"

"Nope, just one!"

James tossed that over in his head. "Okay, do we shoot it or not?"

Pigma's screen flicked on in a split second. "It's busted parts. We need to take it down, boss! Save us some trouble later on."

"I agree," James responded. "What do you say, Peppy?"

The pensive hare gazed at the pod. It sailed silently, gracefully--deceptively considering the eldritch appearance of the fleet the trio just attacked. Light glimmered off of its textureless white surface, like white flag raised by the defence force of Andross.

Pigma shattered his thoughts by calling into his comms. "We don't have all day!"

"Give him a second," James urged, "this isn't our main siege anyways."

Peppy, though glaring into his screen at Pigma's interruption, made up his mind while the pod soared away in the fleeting moment.

"Let's shoot 'em down."

James' Awring boosted ahead with his co-pilots in tow, firing a barrage of shots against the pod and causing a series of cracks to erupt on its surface.

"Weird," Peppy remarked, "it's not even shaking!"

Slowly, four cracks crawled their way across the clean surface of the pod before the shell blew back into space. The blast dissipated, leaving a small silver ball hovering in its wake.

"What on Corneria?" James questioned, puzzlement clear in lowered eyebrows. He fired five more shots: all absorbed by the strange glistening mass. While Peppy joined to fire his own lasers at the ball, the third Arwing swiftly flipped into a retreat.

"Pigma! Where in Lylat are you going!?" Peppy demanded.

The ball swelled in contact with the lasers before abruptly growing two towering wings of metal that reflected light back into Peppy's vision. The appendages shot wide, revealing the figure of a giant phoenix, beak shimmering silver attached to a solid, reflectionless black body.

James mashed the buttons on his sticks to fire a continuous stream of green lasers at the growing beast. "Huh? Pigma?" he asked, distracted.

The mechanical bird shook its wings and screamed silently into the vacuum of space with eyes glowing neon red. It flew twice as large as the egg: monolithic and overpowering as it reflected James' beams back into space.

"Pigma!" Peppy cried once more, speeding up in an attempt to shoot point-blank like James. "Get back here!"

"Nwehehe!" the vengeful pig giggled. "They're right in position, Andross!"

Peppy's eyes involuntarily shut as an exploding, blazing light flared like a supergiant and dominated his senses. Static fizzed at his ears while the Arwing spun of control.

"I can't...I can't see!" the panicked hare cried, jabbing shakily at his intercom button.

The cockpit speakers beeped urgently before the Arwing collided with a pair of lasers. Blinded and dazed, Peppy thrashed around violently in his cockpit.

"Peppy!" James grunted, voice crackling. "It's an ambush! Get out of here!"

In desperation, Peppy activated his thrusters, not knowing what direction they'd take him; with a pounding heart, all he could only hope was that they shot him away. Pigma's voice arrived as a bitter, satisfied croak.

_ "Time to die, James McCloud!" _

"You traitor--you can't!" Peppy pleaded, swinging his head and trying to blink back his vision.

Suddenly, James' voice dropped to a mutter, sharper than jagged glass broken off an Arwing's window. "You're a coward, Pigma."

"Tell that to my ten million!" the portly pilot cackled. "And to our next fleet!"

Peppy's eyes cracked open, though blurred when he gaped around at the space he sped through. On his screen, James' face materialized under a flickering light and lingered stoic behind his sunglasses: a boundless black void in one lens and a crack splitting through the other.

"Tell Andross his plan was elaborate," James uttered through a tone of steel. "And that he's a cold-blooded coward."

"Oh! Nyehehe!" Pigma guffawed. "Like your opinion matters to him! Get 'im, boys!"

Peppy slammed a fist into his communications button while instinctively avoiding incoming shots from Pigma's fellow pursuers. "James! Roll out of there!"

"I'm already boosting! I--" James ripped off his sunglasses to reveal green eyes: old and weary. "Tell Fox I'm sorry. I never used my head."

"No, James! You--"

It was another split second. An enemy laser jolted the calm fox around in his ship, and then followed a cry: ear-splitting and pitiful, before the cockpit exploded into silent space. Peppy's racing heart sunk away with the cold grip of shock tightening around his neck. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the broken Arwing parts floating on a star-less pitch black, before the communications feed cut back to static.

Red lasers grazed the edges of Peppy's wings. Snapping nearly to reality, he clutched the handles in trembling paws, shooting them forward and boosting off away from the howling pig's army, deep into space.

[DEEP LYLAT SPACE - MONTH 11, DAY 10 - 3:35 CIVIC TIME]

Peppy's Arwing hung suspended in the overwhelming blackness, endless stars blanketing all angles: directionless and disorienting. The cockpit was equally as silent as the vacuum of space.

Peppy's body was frozen. He gripped the handles of the Arwing, but couldn't find the desire within himself to push them forward. His chest rose and fell with tired breaths: equally an anchor and reminder of life in the cold clutches of nothing.

The Cornerian Army's standard communications signals were too weak to instantly contact the rabbit from here. He knew that, yet struggled to find the motivation to move into their range. He wondered if it'd matter. Would one returning pilot be less of a tragedy than zero? Did it matter to McCloud's son? Did he need to know about Pigma?

It was a no-brainer to Peppy. He shoved forward on the handles, roughly knocking his body as the Arwing awoke into a full speed boost.

The thrust of the ship's rocket boosters sang a beautiful symphony to Peppy's slumping ears. The clean and predictable, noise was a far cry from the wretched laugh of the traitorous Pigma and the echoing burst of an Arwing blown to bits.

Peppy picked a star and set on chasing it. The shining dots looked more like fireflies than enormous balls of heat. Space, for one thing, was never completely dark in any small quarter. It was as constant as the noise of an Arwing. It was never pure blackness, unlike the dark that James' ship sank into, quickly fading away as his channel turned to static. That sound was far less soothing to the hare.

He kept his paws pressed intently into the handles, gripping until they felt sore, then gripping a little harder.

Peppy's brain was scattered. His thoughts seemed to gaze back at him, sitting on top of stars, reciting themselves in a dueling cacophony that broke the unending quiet of space. He focused on that single dot. It was this way...something was this way.

What was Star Fox now? The leader was lost. Peppy couldn't replace him. How could the hare lead when he couldn't stop Pigma, and when he missed every sign along the way?

James missed them too , Peppy thought, but James hadn't acted right since Vixy died.

Pigma would suffer, Peppy decided, for sacrificing a life for wealth; for exploiting their bond; for acting as nothing more than a spy. The mere thought of the pig's face drew nausea in the exhausted hare's stomach.

McCloud's son, Fox: he was training in the Academy. Peppy was pushing thirty-seven, but he had to father James' son. Peppy's name was in the will. He would've done it either way.

Fox McCloud would lead Star Fox. Peppy would teach him everything he knew, and the two would return to finish the job. James couldn't do it, so Fox would instead.

If Fox wants to, Peppy thought, but he knew the teenager would.

That fantasy carried him across Lylat until the harsh whizzing of his screen made him jump.

"This is ROB 64 to Team Star Fox," the Great Fox's operator buzzed, "please report status."

Peppy bore through his communications screen, unable to answer, as if his old principal just asked him to admit to misbehaviour.

"One ship detected," ROB chanted on, "please confirm a message from the Cornerian Defence Force."

Peppy kept staring blankly until the statement registered. "Send it," the hare urged, nearly shocked by the sound of his own drawling voice.

"Affirmative," answered the robot, before its face faded into black that a concerned General Pepper replaced.

"Team Star Fox," the General spoke passionately, "it's been two days since you left our communications field."

Peppy learned about time dilation in theoretical flight classes. Andross's bomb must have accelerated his ship to a point of distortion. The scientists on Corneria would find the resilience of his ship against the blast interesting. This was a refreshingly emotionally detached reason for Peppy to return.

Pepper went on. "We are aware of the remote location of the Great Fox spacecraft, as well as your exit from its own range. If you are receiving this message, either through the Great Fox or a personal Arwing channel, please respond at once!"

The rabbit couldn't pry his eyes away from the General's face, even as he paused lengthily and sighed.

"Where are you, James McCloud?"

Peppy's vision blurred. He pressed his paws against his eyes before slumping over the control panel. The General continued speaking, but the words were drowned out by Peppy's own choked sobs.

As the playback ended, he rose and rubbed the cold white leather of his jacket sleeve against his face, attempting to collect himself.

"Would you like to issue a reply?" ROB asked flatly.

After a couple more sniffles, Peppy rubbed at his eyes once more and tried to appear somewhat composed. "Sure," he responded.

Upon the click of a new recording, his muzzle slumped peering at his own face. His headfur was disheveled, his eyes were red, and his ears couldn't raise themselves an inch. He inhaled, slowly, and then held the breath until he found the courage to talk.

"This is Peppy Hare..."

The distraught rabbit's slow exhale was deafening in the silence of the cockpit. He gripped the edge of the control panel. As moments passed, he stared into the cold blue of his blank radar before finally waging onwards.

"I'm alone."

**~ 9 YEARS AFTER THE LYLAT WARS ~

[THE GREAT FOX, OVER THE SKIES OF CORNERIA - MONTH 11, DAY 5 - 17:08 CIVIC TIME]**

The two eight-sided dice bounced along the battlefield before they dribbled into rest. With a fwish, two holographic numbers sprang out of the octahedrons and collided into a total.

"Woo!" Slippy shouted. "Twelve!? Fox, that's one of the magic numbers!"

Falco pouted while the captain sprang into a rhinal cackle. "See?" Fox laughed. "Team McCloud's back in business!"

Fox's fleet descended upon Falco's base, gunning down its guards with few casualties, then funneling into the giant structure on the face of the planet. After a moment, the base exploded into gaudy clouds of orange and blue while Fox's ships soared out unharmed.

Falco's beak hung ajar until he snapped it close. "Eh. Fair's fair, McCloud. Take the cash."

With a wide grin, Fox extended his arms across the table to reel in piles of coins that flickered the holographic space they passed through. When he consolidated the pile into his current total, he deliberately arranged his cards and beamed at Peppy. "What are the odds again?" Fox teased.

"My goodness, you McClouds," Peppy guffawed. "You're twenty-seven and still the same old loose cannon!"

"Hey! If it works, it works, right? And I'm in the lead now!"

"Ooooh!" Slippy hooted.

Falco took a sip of his drink and then sat straight with an exaggerated stretch. "Phew, geez! This is killin' me! You guys wanna pause this and grab a bite to eat?"

"Falco just needs time to think of his next move!" Slippy babbled, and then jumped back in before the bird could respond. "So what do you wanna eat?"

"I dunno," Falco deadpanned, "grilled frog?"

"You could eat something of a frog!" Slippy giggled obnoxiously, widening his legs and pointing two fingers at his crotch. "Why don'tcha try his nuts!"

"Gosh, Slippy, you're so desperate!" Fox mused.

"I'm desperate for one thing," Slippy needled, "and that's to get back to my project before Falco makes me cook dinner! Gah!" The frog spun out of his chair and sprinted from the lounge.

Falco's face was flat when he stood up. "Okay, real answer, guys: we're having reheated pizza. Bon appétit." He strode to the door and trudged through once it slid aside.

Fox collected his own drink in his paw and prepared to climb out of his chair before Peppy cleared his throat. "Hey, wait, Fox."

"Hm?" Fox's ears perked when he turned his attention to the hare. Those green eyes really were the stunning image of James', and that thought never quite left Peppy.

Peppy stopped for a moment, gauging how to approach this, as the team captain waited patiently for him to begin.

"I wanted to mention something concerning you, and the collective of Team Star Fox..."

Fox's eyebrows raised. "Oh, is this about your retirement? Er...promotion?"

"Essentially." Peppy cracked a smile. "Assuming I do take Pepper's position, as his health..." the rabbit sighed solemnly, "deteriorates..." He looked back to Fox, who butted in before he could continue.

"Aw, Pep," Fox frowned. "No matter what happens, you'll always be a member of Star Fox. You know that, right?"

"Yes," Peppy accepted, exasperated, "thanks, Fox. But I wanted to ask you about your move."

Fox tilted his head. "My attack on Falco?" He gazed into the distance. "Ignoring your advice?"

"Yes! Exactly!" the rabbit exclaimed. "But, er, if a situation ever came up like that in a couple years, with me as a Cornerian general and all..."

Fox wore a sly grin. "Don't mess with what works!"

"You're so much like your father," Peppy huffed, before he caught himself and wound his paws together.

Fox's grin slipped into a scowl as he turned to stare through the cabin window. "I know," his breath was as silent and distant as the deep abyss, "I get it."

The regretful hare peered down at his paws folded delicately in his lap. Gazing back up at the pensive fox, he separated them and laid them flat on the table. At the flicker of the multi-coloured holographic vehicles around his outstretched hands, Fox turned his attention to Peppy's severe face. "Fox..." he professed, inspecting Fox's green irises--disinterested after the turn of the conversation, "I shouldn't say that. I know you're not James."

Fox's ears flicked, and he opened his muzzle a fraction before clamping his jaw shut and dropping his eyes to the vibrant warzone of planets, ships, and debris. After a moment of thought, he kept his eyes averted. "Yeah, we've been over this."

"We have."

"Why'd you bring it up then?" Fox contended.

The mature hare observed Fox's glower before sliding his brown eyes away and gritting his teeth. "Slip of the tongue. Never meant to compare."

"No, I get it," the captain simmered, with scorn creeping into his nasally voice. When Peppy sat stoic, Fox continued lecturing. "You are comparing him to me. It's..." he grimaced at the table and sighed, "whatever. Forget it."

"What?" Peppy insisted, leaning forward over splayed paws. "What is it? Let me hear it."

After studying him, Fox drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes, evening out his tone. "It's like you're trying to be him. My accomplishments are just progress for you to track, that's it."

"That isn't it," Peppy declared sharply, working in an authoritative tone. "I'm not your dad! I wouldn't try to replace 'im, either."

Fox kept a steady face as he sipped from his glass. He set it down lightly, though his paw moved with tension. "Which is why you surrendered the team captaincy?"

Peppy peered from Fox's black drink up back to the renewed fatigue in his eyes. "No."

"It's okay, Pep. I'm not a pup anymore, you can tell me."

"I did it because it was right!" Peppy preached emphatically, shooting his floppy ears straight under bristled fur. "I couldn't take that from you! The title of Star Fox...the recognition in the business...letting your friends on the team..."

"Avenging Mother and Father," Fox mused, straightening up and broadening his shoulders.

"Exactly..." the earnest hare gasped. "James and Pepper both wanted it to be mine. You wanted it! But I couldn't do that to you, Fox."

Fox searched the surface of his drink, listening to Peppy.

"And I knew it was hard on you!" Peppy rambled, "It was hard on me too! It tore at me! I needed to do something--anything--to make it right!"

The meditative fox nodded slowly. "I understand," Fox conceded, and shook his head. "I shouldn't've talked to you like that. I just...I had to get it out." With a sigh, he ran a paw through his hair. "It was just pressure. Not as much now, but I had so much to prove then. Everyone expected me to be like Father."

Peppy examined the hovering fleet over Venom. It flickered momentarily with the rest of the board: detailed flashes of artificial light projected under the very real fox's face.

"And I thought it was my destiny," Fox added, "like I was born to lead the team and take down Andross. Like I had to fulfill a lineage, and see it through for you and Pepper...and Mother and Father. And when we conquered Venom..." he scratched the fluff on his chin, "I didn't feel much of anything."

Peppy watched him intently, hanging on by the last word.

"Except..." Fox glanced to the window and admired the bright splashes of stars and nebulae over the pitch black of space: colder, yet more comforting than the hologram. When he shifted his head back to Peppy, his eyes remained distant. "I've never told you this."

The absorbed hare narrowed his eyes during the silence that followed. "What is it? What happened, Fox?"

"I saw Father in his Arwing."

Peppy blinked in surprise. "Huh!? Crashed on Venom?"

"No, he was flying." Fox's eyes refocused onto Peppy, though he spoke slowly, carefully. "He led me off Venom. He was real--or," the look left his face in a flash, and he scratched behind his head apprehensively, "he felt real to me. He spoke through my intercom, flew me out."

The flicker of the hologram drew Peppy's attention away from the sincere, lunatic fox. "That's...quite something," he mustered after a pause.

"Yeah."

Peppy shivered as a cold chill blew over his shoulders. "You're sure of that?"

"Cross my heart," Fox declared, laying a paw over his chest, "he's the reason I lived!"

"Wow..." Peppy murmured, despite his skepticism. "That's incredible."

"It is. And, y'know, I've been waiting for him to come back..." Fox ducked his muzzle, eyes shining, "every mission."

"I'm sure he will, Fox, honest!" Peppy floundered, "I'm sure James, uh..."

"Thank you," the upbeat pilot cut in early, before shaking his head. "I got off-track, though."

Peppy's view of space closed as Fox rose out of his chair in front, setting his drink down. He gracefully slid around the circular table--white hues illuminating the creases of his green jumpsuit--before dropping down onto the cushioned chair beside Peppy's perplexed face.

Fox piped up first, straightening his high-pitched voice into a faux-formal tone. "Apologies if this comes off as...sentimental, General Peppy, but I've got something to say about you." His eyes slid away. "Even if I mishandled this conversation."

Peppy tilted his head. Fox took his silence as permission to continue.

"With all this talk about my father, I realized that no," Fox remarked, bluntly, "you're not my dad."

"I..."

"You're our dad," Fox announced. After holding an earnest gaze with the hare, he slapped a paw over his eyes and chuckled. "Wait, that sounded stupid."

Peppy stared into space, finding a smile crawling across his muzzle after the outfoxing. "No, it was sweet. I feel like one."

"We needed an old timer to show us the ropes. Make us confront our fears," Fox's tail gained some movement as his eyes locked with the grinning hare's, "make us confront Andross."

Peppy peered at the holographic Venom. "And maybe someone to tell you 'no' once in a while?"

"Exactly! You can boss us around, take our ideas, shoot 'em down!" Fox scoffed. "Even if Falco will call you washed-up."

Peppy chortled behind his two buck teeth. "Falco'll always call me washed-up!"

"And you'll always be one of us: the dad of Star Fox!"

The smile adorning Peppy's face radiated more warmth than the Lylat Sun. He inspected the cheesy, yet earnest look of Fox, whose smirk stretched across a broad muzzle to the corners of his cheek fur. With a moment of hesitation, he reached out a paw to wrap it around Fox.

Fox leaned back into the outstretched arm smoothly. In the embrace of the half-hug, he bent across the short gap between the chairs and slanted his head to lay it against Peppy's shoulder, with only one of his green eyes visible in Peppy's field of view.

"And I think I've always needed you," Fox mumbled, under his breath.

The old hare's ears bent in affection as he pulled Fox in tighter. In close proximity to the snout of the confident pilot, he caught a familiar caramel scent: the smell of Fox's Arwing, the smell of his room, and the smell of Vixy and James.

"I'm glad to be that, Fox," Peppy answered, slowly.

Fox shifted his head, allowing the ivory fur of his muzzle to pop into Peppy's view. "I bet you are," he joked, "because now you know to order me around!" His tail audibly whacked his seat. "Not that I'd listen."

"Well listen here, you scoundrel fox!" Peppy bantered, in the most senile voice he could muster. "You better call off that mission of yours!"

Fox snorted. "No way! I'm a wild card; a renegade! The name's gone right to my head!"

Peppy lifted his other paw to noogie Fox like a high school bully. "Oh, you kids, you!"

When Fox laughed and reached to resist, he stopped.

"Though, if I've learned one thing from Team Star Fox," Peppy revealed, lifting his ears, "it's that a McCloud does his best when it's in his head."

The sentiment hung in the air, before Fox responded by silently linking his arm around Peppy's back and drifting back into the hug. The paternal hare held Fox and slid his glance out to the reaches of space.

Over the setting horizon of Corneria, the nebula of Sector Y rose. Green and yellow clouds of dust shone over the void in the shape of the Latin letter: several years' distance in the abstract of biological limitations, though accessible in minutes through Cornerian technology. Behind the nebula, dotted lights of countless stars covered the view, yet remained dim in radiant blue coverage of the giant Lylat star. Peppy pressed his muzzle against Fox's ear and shut his eyes, clutching his arms tighter around his friend and teammate.

The speakers of the lounge burst into a sharp static, before Falco's voice called over to the startled pair. "Hey losers, your stinkin' dinner's ready!"

"All right, son," Peppy cracked, stretching his back in spite of the younger fox still propped against him, "get off my lawn!"