[The Yoshimaster]

Well, I don't really see a big similarity, other than the titles. Anyway, here's more of the story.

V

Admiral Moss paced the War Room of The Harbinger, while the officers under him and visitors from other ships and branches of the military sat at the table, waiting patiently.

“So,” Moss muttered, more to himself than to anyone else, “Spies report that the Cornerian Senate is pending approval of a navy. That will expand the Cornerian military to three branches: the army, excellent at ground assault but useless at space battles, as seen in the Battle of Sector Y; the air force, a force good for melee combat, but one that collapses under the might of capital ships; and, now, a navy. Not only would a navy be useful for defending oceanic planets, including Zoness, Aquas, and (in a way) Corneria, but it would include titanic capital ships and even fighters, both of which would prove useful in space combat.” Moss turned towards the officers sitting at the conference table. “Lylat will prove to be a formidable foe.”

Moss looked from one officer to another. He whipped out his arm and pointed it at a particular lizard sitting at the table.

“Arnold! What new reports concerning that mercenary team, Star Fox?”

Wooly Arnold, one of the few mammals holding notable positions in the Karzen system, was a bear and director of the Karzenian CIA. He shuffled his papers and cleared his throat. “My men had a difficult time tracking down information about Star Fox,” he said. “Almost everyone in the Lylat system knows the name, but nobody knows who the current team is.”

Moss raised an eyebrow. “There’s a new team?” he inquired.

“Since the defeat of Andross, yes,” Arnold said. “Let’s see… from what we could gather in various pubs, black market shops and the like, the team is as follows. Alec Falan, team scout and feline. Kicked out of Air Force Academy of Katina for rowdy behavior. Hired by Star Fox through advice of former team member Peppy Hare. Next: Slippy Toad, technician of an obvious species. Awarded the Andross Award three times for outstanding inventions, an award named after the brilliant scientist, Andross, before his egomania kicked in. Next: Krystal McCloud, data analyzer and fox. Married former leader Fox McCloud fifteen years ago, has since given birth to…”

“Wait, hold on a minute,” Moss cried. “Former leader? You mean Fox McCloud is no longer in the Star Fox team?”

“That is correct, sir. He resigned shortly after marrying Krystal, and right before being named general of the Cornerian Army. Whether his wife influenced his leave or Cornerian officials gave him the position on the condition that he leave behind his mercenary past is uncertain, but his wife did remain on the team.”

Moss smiled. Now that the Star Fox team was under new management, it might not be such a threat after all. “Who is the new leader?” Moss said.

“Falco Lombardi. An ace combat fighter for many years, he is an excellent pilot, but his leadership skills are terrible. We know that he left the Star Fox team several times in the past, and neither his reasons for leaving nor for coming back are known. Why Fox would nominate Falco as the new leader is anyone’s guess, but since then, Star Fox has lost its place in the spotlight and has descended to the ranks of the hundreds of mediocre mercenary units in the Lylat system.”

“No wonder nobody knows anything about Star Fox anymore,” Moss said. “Well, then. Are they still affiliated with the Cornerian Army?”

Arnold shuffled through more papers. “We don’t know for certain,” he said, “But Fox McCloud is now part of the Cornerian Army, and General Pepper is known to have a certain affinity towards the Star Fox team…”

“Ok,” Moss interrupted, turning around and pacing the room. “The Star Fox team may yet be harmful towards us, if the Cornerian government decides to bring them into the picture again. But with a little effort, we can get them out of the way before the actual invasion begins. Now,” he said, with a nod towards Arnold, “Bring him in.”

VI

Fox opened the door to his chauffeur’s hovercar and looked up at the towering Army Headquarters. The driving rain outside battered his door, and as it opened, rain dripped inside, soaking Fox’s uniform pants.

“Shall I fetch an umbrella for you, sir?” the chauffeur asked politely.

“No time,” Fox muttered. “I’m late as it is.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Fox ducked out of the hovercar, immediately discovering that his pants were the least of his worries. Fox’s uniform was instantly soaked, and as he turned to tell the chauffeur that his mind had been changed, the hovercar glided away. Fox turned and ran, slipping more than once in a deep puddle of mud. He was dashing madly towards the welcoming doors of the Army Headquarters, when a vendor at the side of the path stopped him.

“You look like you could use a break.”

Fox stopped in his tracks, and glanced at the vendor. It was a hooded creature, standing behind a steaming container protected under a broad umbrella.

“Why not rest awhile under my umbrella, and enjoy some of my homemade soup?”

Fox stood like a statue, completely disregarding the rain. There was something about the vendor that didn’t seem right. Perhaps it was the fact that the vendor already had a bowl of soup ready for him. Perhaps it was because it was set up by the side of the building, a place Fox was sure was forbidden to vendors.

“No thanks,” Fox said. “I’m running late.”

“Are you sure? It’s hot. And you’re cold. Very cold.”

“No.”

Then suddenly, the vendor threw the bowl to the ground, smashing it to pieces and allowing the soup to mix with the rainwater. The vendor said, calmly in spite of its outburst, “Your choice.”

With one last worried look at the vendor, Fox ran inside.

When he reached the top floor, where he was supposed to be, he was out of breath, drenched, and wearing a ruined uniform. The other generals in the war room, Pepper included, stared at him.

Boy, oh boy, am I not fit to be a general, Fox thought miserably.

“Nice of you to grace us with your presence, Fox McCloud,” said Chancellor Jerek Bennigen, standing at the head of the conference table. “And I use that term lightly.”

“Apologies,” Fox said. “Well, what’s up?”

“’What’s up’,” Bennigen said angrily, “Is this.” He shoved a strip of paper in Fox’s face. “A report from the Trengast system claiming that they willfully handed their system over to Karzen.”

“And if that’s not strange enough,” Pepper added, “It just so happens to be the second peaceful handover of a system to Karzen in a year.”

Fox read the slip of paper and put it on the table. “Conquered?” he suggested.

“Perhaps,” said another, an Avian. “But we can’t take any extreme actions just yet. It could very well be a coincidence, and a false attack would generate all kinds of bad imagery about the military.”

“That’s right,” said Pepper. “And if we’re to properly defend this system, we’ll need to gradually expand the military. A bad reputation won’t help us achieve this goal. The best thing to do is to wait.”

Fox frowned. “Why do we have to wait?” he said. “Couldn’t we send some spies over there to see what’s really happening?”

The Avian shook his head. “Up until a few years ago, we hardly knew those systems existed at all. Now that we’re communicating better, it’s possible to send little messages like this one.” He waved the slip of paper in his wing. “But aside from that, very little traveling occurs. We hardly know anything about other cultures, and therefore, it would be impossible for a spy to blend in.”

Just then, Pepper’s comm. device began beeping. Excusing himself from the room, he answered it briefly. When he came back, a wide grin was on his face. He put the device away, stood at the front of the table, and cleared his throat.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “The Senate has just approved the founding of a navy.”

VII

To Fox, this meant a lot of new things.

Of course, to the average civilian on the street, it meant higher taxes. In fact, taxes would be extremely high for a while, considering massive amounts of construction and training had to be done during the first few months. But Fox didn’t mind the taxes. Money, as he learned from his years as a mercenary, was fleeting, and the more of it that went to a good cause, the better.

Since the army and the air force were the only existing branches of the military, officers and soldiers from both branches would have to break away to form the navy. One of the generals would have to exchange their position for a slightly different one; and at the previous meeting, the generals had nominated Fox as admiral of the future navy.

Clapping came from all sides of the conference table.

“Congratulations, everyone,” said Chancellor Bennigen. “We’ve made a giant leap towards a more secure Lylat.”

Pepper stood up to shake Bennigen’s hand, as did the Avian, and soon, everyone at the meeting. Except Fox.

“What’s the matter, Fox?” Pepper asked, surprised. “This is a big accomplishment! You should be ecstatic!”

“I don’t know,” said Fox, looking straight ahead. “It’s such a big leap… I’ve just barely gotten used to being a general, and now… I’m an admiral! It’s quite a shock, Pepper.”

Pepper nodded. “Well, my boy,” he said, patting Fox on the back. “You’ll have plenty of time to get used to the shock before the celebration on Saturday. Now, go home and get some sleep. The shock of your sudden promotion coupled with drenched clothes and a lack of sleep can’t be good for you, you know.”

“All right.” Fox go out of his chair and made his way to the door. “Black tie, I presume?”

“Of course,” Pepper said with a laugh. “Go on, get out of here.”

With a nod, Fox closed the door behind him.

VIII

It was a beautiful day on the planet of Katina. Rays of bright sunlight glinted off the distant metallic buildings and aircraft of the Air Force Academy, while rows of cadets in uniforms stood at attention below a band-filled stage in a nearby park. Today was graduation day for the young cadets, and the park, normally frequented only by gardeners and aging officers, was full of energetic siblings and prideful parents, whose interest in the cadets was only broken by the occasional statue and antique fighter.

“What’s that one, papa?” said a young dog to his father. But the father ignored the puppy, instead dragging it by its shirtsleeve.

“I don’t know,” said the father dog impatiently. “But come along, now. Your brother’s graduation ceremony is about to begin.”

“But papa!”

A nearby figure chuckled softly. But father and son stopped and stared at the old stranger.

“I see your boy has taken a sudden interest in aviation,” the figure said with a smile.

“Yeah,” the dog grumbled. “He’s taking after his brother. His brother’s a cadet here, and he’s going to be graduating in a few minutes, so I want to get a good seat. My name’s Mr. Dreggar.” The dog offered his free hand. The stranger shook it.

“How do you do.” Then, to the puppy, “So, little guy, you want to know about this fighter? Well, this here’s an Arwing. Now, I know you don’t think that’s so special, seeing as your brother probably flies one every day, but this is a prototype Arwing. The first version ever to be flown by non-robotic entities. It’s the same Arwing class that toppled Andross’s Empire back in the day. These days, you know you’re safe when you fly an Arwing. It’s the best fighter out there that you can mass-produce. In this one, though, anything could go wrong, and the only thing you could rely on was your own piloting capability. Hell of a fighter. Well, enjoy the ceremony, young man. You, too, Mr. Dreggar.”

The band finished playing its cheerful tunes, which was the cue for the captain to begin his speech. Dressed in his best, Brutus “Tank” Reynolds, a buff canine captain who treated his underlings harsher than POWs, climbed the steps with conceited elegance and stepped up to the podium.

“Good morning, cadets, parents, children and Air Force lovers!” Tank boomed, and with that, began a longwinded, highly entertaining speech.

Meanwhile, in a tree across the park, a young, plump tabby cat crouched precariously on a thin branch, with binoculars to its eyes and a headset on its ears. It was a year younger than the cadets graduating that day, and was supposed to be on leave for the summer. However, this cat had other plans.

“Come in, Big Dog! Come in, Big Dog!” he whispered hoarsely. “Muttonhead has begun his speech! Repeat, Muttonhead has begun his speech!”

In the sky of Katina, miles above the park, three Arwings in a “V” formation broke away from their holding pattern and began to swoop down.

“Roger that, Garfield,” said Big Dog, who was not a dog at all, but a fox. “Take it to ‘em, guys.”

His name was Thomas McCloud, and although he was clearly the most talented cadet at the academy, Tank still treated him like garbage. He intended to settle the score, and when better to do so than on graduation day?

“That balloon better be in place, Tom,” crackled the voice of the right wingman in Tom’s headset. He turned, and through the thick, gleaming glass, saw the face of Alyssa Darian, looking at him through the glass of her own Arwing cockpit. “Else this whole thing will be a bust.”

Tom forwarded the message to Bobo Simons, a.k.a. Garfield, who gave the affirmative. “It sure is, Alyssa,” Tom replied. “Everything’s golden. Just needs one clear shot for Muttonhead to find himself covered in red paint.”

“All right,” said the left wingman gleefully. “Tank, your just desserts are comin’ in full speed!” Tiger Dreggar, a dog, hit the acceleration until his was ahead of the other two Arwings. Tom decided to let it go, seeing that it was too late for them to make any more changes in formation.

The three Arwings were closing in on the park now. Tiger, who’s Arwing was far ahead of the others, laughed like a kid with a toy gun. Tom was almost sure he could hear Alyssa rolling her eyes over the radio.

“All right, Tiger,” Tom said. “Lock on your target. That’s it. Now, let ‘im have it!”

A report rang in the ears of those at the ceremony below as a pair of hyper beams streaked by mere feet above their heads, while moments later, an Arwing roared by, tearing away branches of nearby trees as it went. The visitors began panicking immediately, while the cadets watched the Arwing go, knowing very well who was at the controls.

“Damn it!” Tiger shouted. Tom winced as the tinny swear blasted his ears with static.

“Don’t sweat it, Tiger,” Alyssa said. “I’m on it.”

Tom looked below, and noticed thankfully that Tank was still at the podium. “All right, Alyssa,” he said, pulling away so she could get a clear shot. “All yours.”

Tom watched Alyssa set her sights on the heavy, paint-filled balloon, dangling on a branch high above the podium. She waited until she was close enough for a clear shot. It was a tricky shot, she knew, one that would require her to dive between two…

A laser beam struck Alyssa’s left wing, rocking her ship. “What the…?”

Tom leaned over to take a glance at the crowd below. “Ah, hell,” he cried irritably. “Some geezer is taking shots at your Arwing!”

“Well, how am I supposed to… Aaah!”

Tom saw it all. Within her massive fighter, Alyssa had leaned over to see who had been shooting at her. Before Tom could say anything, Alyssa struck the balloon, instantly splattering her cockpit with red paint.

“I hit someone! I hit someone!” she screamed.

“No, Alyssa, you didn’t…”

“Help! Tom! I can’t see! There’s blood all over my…”

“It’s not blood, it’s…”

“I can’t see, Tom! I…!”

Tom watched helplessly as everything began to unwind into total chaos. Alyssa blindly struck one of the statues in the park, clipping off her right wing. Her Arwing, already dangerously close to the ground, began to lose altitude. The crowd was wild with terror, while the old geezer continued to shoot at the Arwings.

“Tiger! She’s taken damage! Get over here, now!” Tom shouted.

“I’m too far away, Tom! It’ll take some time!”

Alyssa’s fighter was only a few feet from the ground now. Without a second thought, Tom accelerated, ignoring the branches that smacked into his windshield, until he was side-by-side with Alyssa. He turned slightly, so that his left wing was under Alyssa’s mangled right. Then, ever so gently, he turned to starboard, until Alyssa’s craft was level.

“All right, Alyssa, now, began your landing pattern,” Tom ordered.

Alyssa obeyed without a word. When she was slow enough, the hatches beneath her craft gave way to repulsorlifts. Tom swooped away and watched. The landing was rough, but Alyssa succeeded in bringing her damaged craft to a halt on a lawn outside the park. Tom watched as Tank and the cadets rushed to her aid.

“Thanks, Tom,” Alyssa said, shaken yet relieved. “I’m all right.”

“Now all we have to worry about,” said Tiger, whose craft was now flying next to Tom’s, “is hell, courtesy of Tank Reynolds.”

“I hear ya, Tiger,” Tom said with a sigh. “I hear ya.”