[The Yoshimaster]

Note: This story takes place twenty-four years after Starfox 64, and disregards Starfox Assault, as I'm not exactly clear on that game's storyline. Anyway, here's The Lylat Campaign, or what I have so far.

I

From amidst the rubble floating silently in space, came a solitary shuttle. Its markings were unmistakable, and given the contents of its earlier transmission, its purpose was clear.

Admiral Reccal Moss, a green, scaly creature watching from his quarters in the capital ship, Harbinger, could not help but smile. So far, this had been the most difficult campaign of all for the conquest for the Karzen system. More soldiers and spacecraft had been lost in the Trengast campaign than in all the others combined. A worthy effort on Trengast’s part, but far from significant. The aftermath of the final battle was proof of this.

“Admiral Moss,” the intercom squeaked.

“Yes,” Reccal said, not taking his eyes off the wreckage drifting about outside. The utter totality of Trengast’s defeat was so beautiful to him that he spoke as if in a trance.

“Trengastian President Bernard has just docked.”

“Good. Escort him to my private office.”

Reccal stood for a few moments more, watching his own forces swoop and dance about the dead, twisted lumps of metal, like piranhas swarming around pieces of sinking meat. Then, after taking up a glass of champagne and toasting the dictator’s health, departed into his office.

Within minutes, the president of the Trengast system was standing in Reccal’s office. Reccal stood and greeted him with a smile.

“Welcome,” he said. “Please, sit down. Would you like a drink? I’ve just opened a bottle of champagne. It’s in the other room. Will you have one? No? Very well, then.”

Reccal sat down across the desk from President Bernard and set his glass down. Reaching into one of the drawers, he whipped out a single sheet of paper and handed it to Salvatore.

“What’s this?” Bernard said weakly.

“The treaty, of course,” Reccal said, taking a sip from his glass.

Bernard waved the paper in his furry hands. “Sort of thin for a treaty.”

“Well, read it and see what you think.”

Bernard’s eyes ran down the page, skimming over the long, formal introductions, landing on a single line just above the place for him to sign:

I, President Bernard of the Trengast system, surrender the Trengast system, all military units, all planets and government properties contained therein, all formal titles, and all satellites, artificial or natural, including everything contained therein, to the Empire of Karzen.

Bernard looked up at Reccal and tried his best to look calm. “Bold, aren’t we?”

Reccal chuckled. “Well, we’re experienced with this kind of thing, and boldness is something that comes with experience,” he said. “So. Need a pen?”

II

Once the former president was gone, Reccal strode proudly into the communications room, and asked the technicians there to set up a transmission between the capital ship Harbinger and its home planet, Karzenia.

“It may take a while, sir,” said the chief technician. “Would you rather wait until we’re closer to Karzenia for a better transmission?”

“Absolutely not. Our lord demanded that I contact him immediately after the handover of Trengast to us was final. Therefore, we are already late.”

The technician nodded slowly, and proceeded to initiating the contact. Within the hour, a fuzzy hologram of the Karzen dictator stood in the center of the communications room.

“Well?” said the hologram. Although distorted, the voice still carried the impatient and even dangerous aura that Dictator Vladimir Nerome always spoke with.

“The handover of Trengast is complete, sire,” Reccal said, loud enough for the words to echo clearly across billions of miles of space into Nerome’s ears, but not so loud as to hint at insubordination.

The dictator smiled thinly. “Very good, Moss,” he said. “Now, bring your fleet to the nearest service station and prepare for your next campaign.”

Reccal was startled. “Another campaign, sire?” he said carefully.

“Lylat.”

Reccal cleared his throat. “My lord, I fail to see the wisdom in attacking Lylat,” he said. “I cannot help but recall their triumph over Emperor Andross’s forces, a…”

“And what about it?” Nerome interrupted. “Must I remind you that Andross’s attack on Lylat was nearly a success? He conquered all but one planet, Corneria. And the only reason why Corneria managed to destroy Andross’s forces was because of a handful of mercenaries.”

“Star Fox,” Reccal muttered.

“You have your orders, Admiral Moss,” the dictator said. “I trust your judgment and strategic cunning will win Karzen another victory.”

Reccal bowed before the hologram, and the transmission ceased.

III

The enemy had arrived. Fox McCloud glanced down at his radar screen, where five red blips, forming a “V” shape, were closing in around a single blue dot: his own Arwing. Due to unavoidable events, he, used to fighting with help on either side of him, was alone. His heart pounded rapidly and the controls were damp with sweat.

The enemy suddenly dispersed, scattering and firing their engines so that in a moment, Fox could see nothing but star-dotted space. He cut the engines and pulled hard right, just as a stream of laser blasts burst through where he had been a moment before. At least one ship was already on his tail. If he waited any longer, all five would be there, and that would spell certain doom.

He gunned the engines and pulled back on the controls, creating weak artificial gravity inside the cockpit as he swept over the ships, until he was going the other way. Once the maneuver was complete, he saw that a single ship was headed straight for his. Stunned by Fox’s sudden maneuver, the ship did nothing… while Fox’s laser blasts cut it into scrap metal.

A moment later, the others were on his tail again. Fox’s ship rocked violently, and the ship’s computer chirped the deadly news: Right wing damaged.

Fox could barely fly now, and he certainly couldn’t do a barrel roll to avoid blasts. In a last effort, he pulled back on the controls, intending to perform a weaker version of his previous maneuver, but this was anticipated early on by his enemies. As a vicious barrage of laser blasts rocked his ship, spawning countless alarms and flashing lights, Fox could do nothing but shield his face.

The cockpit went dark. Moments later, the darkness was replaced by a dim red glow. Fox sighed.

“I’m really losing it,” he said.

He pushed the cockpit door open and stepped outside into a small training room, with a service robot attending to the computer consoles lining the outer wall. When Fox stepped out of the simulator, the robot turned towards him.

“Your rating is 3 out of 10, cadet,” the robot’s tinny voice said.

Fox frowned. “Thanks,” he said. “And stop calling me cadet.”

“Only cadets of the Air Force Academy of Katina are authorized to use this simulator. Identify yourself or I will report you to the administration.”

Fox chuckled. Katina was millions of miles away. Fox, now a general in the Cornerian Army, had ordered a private simulator from Macbeth to be installed in the training room of his penthouse on Corneria. But since he didn’t specify exactly how customized he wanted it to be, he was sent a standard simulator, complete with a service robot who naturally assumed Fox was a cadet, since it hadn’t been programmed otherwise. Messing with its mind was one of Fox’s guilty pleasures.

“You go ahead and do that,” Fox replied.

The robot went silent. Finally, it said to itself, “The Air Force Academy communication system is offline.”

Fox shook his head and left the training room. He wasn’t too happy about being ranked as a 30% efficient cadet, when, only fifteen years ago, he was much greater than that. But it couldn’t be helped now. He was to speak at the Senate in less than an hour, and he still had to change.

In the walk-in closet, while searching for his officer’s uniform, his hands fell on a particular, worn-out jacket. He pulled it off the hangar and held it in his hands, while he felt his heart wrenched by nostalgia. It was the jacket he had worn for years in his youth, as leader of the Star Fox team. It had seen battle after intense battle. It had journeyed into the hearts of giant capital ships, brushed past dinosaurs on a mysterious planet, and plunged into the maddening depths of Andross’s lair. Now, it was a shell, a piece of old clothing that probably didn’t even fit him anymore. In a way, this jacket was Fox McCloud. At the very least, it was what remained of him. The youthful, cunning pilot, who took orders from nobody but those with big bank accounts, was not him anymore. He was an officer now. Fox McCloud, the Fox McCloud, was gone.

He put the jacket back on the hanger and took his uniform, a white, well-ironed, decorated officer’s uniform, and dressed.

IV

The entire Cornerian senate sat in silence, intently listening to Senator Peter Tarian, a hare from Katina speaking on the most hotly debated subject currently in the Senate. In the back of the great hall was General William Pepper of the Cornerian Army, carefully taking notes.

“For centuries, we of the Lylat system have lived in peace,” Peter cried, “A peace so uniform, it made the small army of Corneria useless. But since Andross attacked us, we have improved on this small army, making it efficient enough to protect our system from such an attack in the future.

“Now, after years of unbroken peace, the war mongering generals of the army and air force demand that we create a new branch of the military: a navy! They wish us to expand our already large army to ridiculous proportions. Why is that? We’re in no immediate danger, are we? The reason is this: they wish to turn Corneria and the rest of the Lylat system into a military state and destroy the very foundations of our beloved Republic! I implore you, fellow citizens, to vote against this proposal, so that we may return to our customary ways of peace.”

The door near Pepper opened slowly. Through it came Fox, moving stealthily towards a seat next to Pepper’s. Fox slipped into the seat, while Pepper threw not a glance in his direction.

“Flight simulator?” Pepper whispered, not taking his eyes off the speaker or his pen off the pad.

Fox blushed. He sometimes forgot he was dealing with a hound, and stealthy or not, a fox’s scent was very noticeable to a hound. “Yeah,” he whispered back. “What’d I miss?”

“Nothing much. He’s feeding us another version of the ‘military state’ argument. I’m still taking notes, though; just in case he makes a mistake we can take advantage of later on. How’d you rank?”

“Three out of ten,” Fox whispered. “The equivalent of a drunken novice with brain damage.”

Pepper smiled. Just then, a torrent of applause erupted from the Senate. Pepper dropped his pen and clapped along with them.

“Are you ready?” Pepper said.

Fox nodded. When the applause had died down and Senator Tarian had taken his seat, Fox rose and approached the stand. The Speaker introduced him.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Senate, General Fox McCloud.”

Fox received little applause while he stepped up to the podium. He didn’t expect any; most of the Senate was already against the introduction of a navy. Fox paused a moment at the podium, glancing around the room at all the sullen faces. At last, he began.

“To begin with, Senator Peter Tarian calls us war mongrels,” Fox said. “I suppose this is partially my fault, as I spent the better part of my youth as a mercenary. However, The idea that we enjoy wars and big armies is far from the truth. We realize that Corneria and many of its surrounding planets have enjoyed peace for hundreds of years. It pains us to look back at those days and know that they are over.

“The fact is we cannot bring back the peace we once had. The war with Andross was proof of this. We barely survived that incident, and we did so with ruined cities, devastated planets, and a decimated military. We have improved our army since then, of course, but unfortunately, that will not be enough. As time and technology advance, our communication with other systems improves. We have already learned that they have large militaries, and if we do not act now, we will be virtually defenseless to attack. Peace is gone, and if we ever hope to bring it back, we must be prepared for war.”

Fox left the podium. He was almost thrown back in surprise as the Senate broke out in applause, an even louder one than what it had given to Senator Tarian. Fox was beaming when he reached Pepper.

“Well done,” Pepper muttered. “You’ve won ‘em over. Let’s just hope we hold them in time for the voting process.”

To be continued...