Chapter Text
The Arwing came alive.
Fox McCloud knew that that wasn't true. Tt was a machine, it didn't live and breath like he did. It didn't have a will it was trying to push onto the world. It was a tool. But that thought had started to nag at him as naiive, especially now. Sitting in the cockpit with his eyes closed.
"Do you feel that, Fox?" His father, James, spoke to his left in the darkness. Hand on his sons shoulder. "That's the reactor pumping power to the plasma damp. It's the heart sending blood to the lungs." His normally stern, stiff voice had an passivity to it that only ever came when he was talking about the ships. Like he was soothing a beast.
"And if you put your hand on this," James moved Fox's little hand to the thrust on his right- and slowly pushed it forward, the engines kicking on and beginning to strain against the landing clamps holding the ship at bay.
He began to laugh, and his dad joined him. "Do you feel it?" James cut through his laughter with the question again, and Fox nodded wildly. "Yeah! Yeah!"
He turned the power down on the throlle and the rattle of the ship against it's restraints came with it. The creature returning to a purr. Fox opened his eyes and looked up at his father smiling down at him, or maybe smiling through him to the craft itself.
"When you're older, you'll actually feel it. You'll be able to speak it's language and it'll speak to you in return." He looked at the dashboard of the ship like he was looking at a child, and Fox felt a pang he wouldn't recognize until years later as jealousy. "When you get your legs- when you can fully connect to it. You'll know what it's like. You'll understand."
He wasn't sure he ever really understood what his dad was trying to tell him. Even now, idiling his father's arwing in the hangar of his father''s dreadnought, the Great Fox, he still felt like there was a galaxy between where he was and understanding his father.
The veil between life and death didn't help, but that was more of a parallel problem then the actual issue.
He sighed and let up on the gas, leaning his head against the head rest behind him and disabling the coupling attaching him to the Arwing. The metal braces let go of his legs, and the ports came free one at a time with a soft hiss of compressed air to blow them clean.
The First Generation Arwings were dangerous to fly. The ship could put far too much strain on the pilot, and the fact the pilot was in them at all actually caused the thing to constantly drift downwards when in atmo. This had been considered an unmitigated failure, but the James McCloud had come up with the bright idea to amputate his legs to reduce the weight, and his horrified comrade Peppy had elected the slightly more reasonable option of making robot prosthetics that could interface with the ship.
Because of the war and because of the need for soldiers in the field, this was either allowed or forgiven, depending on who you ask. The pilots of Star Fox all underwent the surgery and became connected directly to their ships. James, the Ace and leader, had always said in interviews that he could feel each bit of the machine like it was his own body. When he breathed, the engines pulsed.
The Arwing II's had eventually made concessions in speed and recovery in order to allow it's pilots to keep their legs, and so the superior but flawed Arwings were decommisoned before ever being released publically.
The four prototypes flown by the Star Fox squadron were supposed to be officially retired, but James and his crew had already under gone the procedure- So he had argued for them to be able to keep flying. Then, Peppy had come to the door and told Fox that his father had gone missing, sucked into a wormhole by Andross, and stabbed in the back by his comrade Pigma. So, Fox followed in his fathers footsteps and had the operation done on himself as well.
General Pepper had tried to ground him for that. To remove his wings for mutilating himself and moving off of instinct instead of sense. But Fox McCloud was all instinct. He had gotten word that he was denied flight and enlisted the help of his rival Falco to bust him out. In exchange of course, for giving Falco the same procedure.
The two of them had snuck their way half way to the hanger, and the fought the rest. Once they were in the decommissioned ships, there was no stopping them. Cornerian Military simply was not built to keep up with the best.
They were able to make it as deep as Sector Y before the rest of the military was able to pull them back, but they came back with a prize in tow- James' original Arwing with a message scratched onto the inside of the canopy- "Find me"
So, instead of court martialing the two of them and throwing them in jail, Fox McCloud and Falco Lombardi were placed on a long term probation- and more importantly, given the Star Fox Squadron, it's four decommisioned Arwing I's, and a long term mission. Find what happened to James McCloud.
Slippy Toad had been talked into joining them after being cornered by Falco and Fox in a bar. They agreed, but opted for a modified Arwing II instead of the original model and accompaning surgery, Peppy Hare felt responsible for Fox's current situation. and had already replaced his legs, and so he joined on slightly after. Miyu Swift and Fay O'Spaniel had been drafted in from General Pepper, and Krystal had replaced Peppy when the bloodburn made it too hard for him to fly.
So here they were, Star Fox Squadron, seven strong if you didn't include ROB, the ships computer. A motley crew of hotshot fools and hand me down ships. On paper, the headline was a passion project that was destined for failure. The results however, kept them in business.
Currently, they were hoping for similar results on their mission: breaking a pirate blockade above Sauria. The SharpClaw had attempted to create a comms blackout from the planet and extort leadership, and so the Great Fox was enroute to clear a hole and land with supplies, and then to let ground troops through to help clear out any pirate activity planet-side.
"How's this for an idea-" Falco had mocked as soon as the mission had been given to them. "Cut out the middle man and we just crush the blockade ourselves. No need for support if the whole thing comes tumbling out of the sky."
Peppy and Fay had tried to argue, but the aye's had it. They were going to gun that entire fleet out of the sky. Afterall, they were Star Fox. If they wanted it done to the letter, they would have asked someone else.
ROBs voice came over the Great Fox's intercom, announcing that they were mere hours away from the Arwings being in range to launch. Fox stretched his arms and vaulted the side of the Arwing to the service stairs pressed against it's hull. He put a hand on the canopy and gave himself one more moment with the machine. "Good talk." He gave it a pat, and grabbed the his fathers sunglasses off the dash just as he heard the blast doors opening behind him.
"Now Falco, this is no time for being stupid. You fly out there alone and you'll come back in a coffin. Just wait for us to be in range!" Peppy's southern way of speaking was nostalgic. His dad, Peppy, Pigma- everyone sitting around a table laughing in the kitchen. The age on his face reminded just how far back you had to travel for nostalgia though- his brown patches fading to a grey, his ears drooping more, and the slower pace he brought to chasing down the bird he was after.
Falco continued unimpeded into the hanger while Fox watched from halfway down the stairs."It may be out of range for you and the rest of the bench warmers, but I can get there before we even show up on scanners."
"And then what? What in gods name will you do with no backup against an entire blockade fleet?" The rabbit motioned to Fox, asking for him to step in or do something other than lean against the guard-rail. "We're already rushing into this half-cocked- Fox, talk some sense into your friend, please!"
"Not friends." They both said it at the same time, a reflex and a defensive measure. Falco grimaced and gave a tut. Fox laughed.
The entire exchange was enough though to get Fox to pivot on his perch and turn to Falco, who had finally stopped his power walk at the terminal at the far end of the bay. With a series of numbers inputted and read vocal commands outloud, he began the launch sequence.
Machinery whirred into life in the previously quiet room, the bowels of the ship grabbing Falco's Arwing from storage and beginning the process of raising it into a flight-capable position. Fox leaned on his own ship and watched the bird as he turned around. "In a rush to die today?"
Falco sneered at him, reaching over and grabbing his pilot jacket off of a rack. "I don't want to hear anything out of you." He punctuated his sentence with a jab of his finger, and his attention turned back to Peppy.
"As for what I plan to do, I plan to win. That's why I'm a pilot and you're an title we bring out when we need to convince an old timer not to shut us down." Peppy was giving some variation of 'I never, you young pilots today with no-' and Falco, pleased with his daggers, threw the jacket over his shoulders and moved to where his Arwing was being latched into the Launch Rail.
Once he was close enough, Fox started stepping down the stairs to approach his wingman. "You know, he's not wrong." The bird shot him a gaze and then feigned to ignore him, turning his shoulder and watching the clamps click in, one of several lights fully turning green as the process continued.
"Going out there alone is suicide, and we're not in any bigger rush. If ROB really puts his back into it, I bet we can get us all there in an hour and a half instead." The second light flashed green, and instead of waiting for the stairs to position next to the cockpit, Falco grabbed a wing to do clamber up onto the chassis.
"Then," Fox continued, "instead of you flying out there and getting shot out of the sky all by your lonesome, I'll get to see it for myself." The insult is what finally got Falco to stop and pivot around.
"I'll turn this ship around before I take off and wreck your daddy's Arwing if you're not careful, jackass." Fox could see the genuine anger in his eyes, but it was something he was used to at this point. He let it wash over him and shrugged. "Wow, that's kind of you. Then I can still see you get shot down and I won't even have to travel for it. You're so thoughtfu-"
Falco had dived off of the top of the ship to attempt a flying axehandle, and Fox had dived backwards, cutting off his own sentence. This was how it was sometimes. Falco would get stir crazy in the leadup to a mission, then he'd get insubordinate, and he would either rarely listen to reason or, more often, Fox would have to bait him into fighting or trying to pursue him.
For anyone else, it would be way too much work to deal with. But for a pilot like Falco, the upkeep cost was worth it. In the Cornerian Flight Academy, they kept a leaderboard comprised of time trials, drone take downs, overall ship health- anything that could be tracked melted down into one score. The top scorers used to be exemplarary pilots who really represented what the CFA had on offer.
Then, Falco & Fox enlisted.
Very quickly. the former spot of esteem was taken by the two dueling hotshots- Every well behaved and carefully groomed military mutt was replaced by these two psycopaths. When all was said and done, Falco held the top spot, Fox was close behind him, and there was blue sky, atmosphere and an interplanetary transfer between him and the third place spot.
The problem of course, was Falco's sense of superiority, and the attitude that came with it.
Fox had him with his arms behind his back now, the frusturated bird trying in vain to break free. He looked up to Peppy, who was sitting on a bench to the side of the hanger now, head in hand and laughed.
"Hey Pep- can you get up to navigation and tell them I authorize a full throttle? We'll bill Corneria for the gas and stress to the ship." He tightened his grip a bit more on Falco before letting him go stumbling forward from the sudden release. "As much as I'd like our bird to fly the coop, we need him still, so we should acquiesce a bit." Fox turned his gaze to Falco, who was rotating his arm to check for damage- "That going to work? Or am I going to have to take your arm off?"
The feathers fluffing up on Falco's neck were enough of an answer, joined by him storming out of the room.
Written by a human in Ellipsus.