…I hope more people read this. Me, Mr. Benzidrine and Hakkyou have been working hard on this. If you can, get more people to read this, because it's not measuring up as much as I thought it in views. Anyway, this one is a pretty good chappy, if we do say so ourselves.

Thanks to all our awesome reviewers: SchmEthan, KrizzFizz, shadowFox0324, Hakkyou, Adam, VENOMDARK, starfighter-105, shakespeare's entourage, and StarlightDragon1636

And let's give a huge applause to Mr. Benzidrine and Hakkyou for the great assistance with this! In fact, they pretty much made this whole chapter. I only did the writing. Props to Hakkyou for a HUGE draft, more of which will be used next chapter. Props for Mr. B for all the great ideas and his beta reading skills!

Enjoy!

Chapter 3

Can The Dedicated Be Soothed?

Never had Fox took the time to stall himself to the command deck when he knowingly had a task waiting for him; taunting him from a distance, making him yearn to just turn and run, not to face yet another energy draining and repetitiously exhausting duty. But no matter how hard it was to accept, it had to be done. The Cornerian Army couldn't in the beginning, which was one of the factors to why this began, so it was up to them.

A mercenary's life did always seem selfish and uncaring of others; get an offer, do someone else's dirty work, and get the pay. Then, splurge that pay on whatever the hell they wanted. No real payments needing to made, and no reason to be charitable. Fox always tried to steer the team's image away from that, keeping it more into 'willing to help, no matter what'. And that's what they did, during all the times that lives were in the balance, which so happened to be theirs. But, only now, did the vulpine feel more like an actual mercenary out for only his cut of the dough. He cared more about himself at that moment than he probably ever had.

Regardless, he finally made it to the bridge. Like usual, Peppy would be seated near the front, with papers scattered everywhere on his station. Trying to stay calm and collective, and not obeying into the nagging urge to turn back and rest as much as possible, he walked up to Peppy.

"Mission accomplished, Peppy," he said. His voice was without the normal commanding tone. Peppy took notice quickly.

"Good, good," he answered. He shuffled through some papers. He stopped for a moment. He turned his chair around, facing Fox. He now saw the result of the work done for the past weeks; his commander looked ready to collapse. "Hmm…"

"What?" Fox asked.

"Oh, nothing. It's just…Well, it's nothing." He turned back a second before finishing his sentence. "Listen, Fox. You look a tad tired." This was an understatement, Peppy knew. But if he used the full description, he knew Fox wouldn't take it well. He never did like hearing of his visible weaknesses, just like his father. "Why don't you take a rest?"

Fox was surprised to hear this. Thought most of his being wanted to just bolt out of there and take full opportunity in Peppy's suggestion, he still was skeptical.

"But, aren't there any missions?" he asked. "I mean, we've been swamped for weeks, and suddenly there's nothing?"

"That's right," Peppy answered, not turning at all. "I say you take the chance while you have it."

Fox stood there, looked at the desk cluttered with papers, and wondered how a single job could not be found in there. Although, he also thought of the upside to the situation, something he had been yearning. "Why pass up this? He said nothing was there, so why not?" He turned and walked to the door. He felt himself nodding off right then and there. He steps were getting slower and less coordinated. He walked out of the bridge, leaving the hare to his work.

Peppy didn't like to lie, but he knew of his commander's fatigue. The truth was that the stack he held in his hands, made of about a dozen pages, had assignment briefings on several missions available. Or, more fittingly, needed to be completed. Despite that, Fox needed rest.

"I just hope someone will be back soon," he thought. "This could set us back a bit."

Krystal shook herself awake. She almost dozed off piloting her Arwing back to the Great Fox hanger. It lurched to side a few feet, requiring her to bring it to a stable cruising pattern. Her attention was returned to her flying, rather than the possibility of a well-deserved rest waiting for her. And, of course, a chance to spend time with Fox before another job came up. More than likely, her hopes would be dashed, and Fox would not be there at all. "One can hope," she thought, "nothing wrong with that."

The hanger opened once ROB registered the craft as Krystal's. Since the team was in and out so frequently, Slippy had ROB upgraded so as to identify ships and open the hanger when they needed to exit or enter it. This made it more convenient for Peppy to work through the heavy paperwork piled up in his workstation in the command deck.

Krystal's Arwing docked in the hanger, and she stepped out. The cockpit closed shut behind her, a hiss emanating from it. The blue vixen stretched for a second to alleviate the immobility brought on from hours of flying. Not wanting to take too much time, she walked out of the hanger and into the hall.

Her next destination was the bridge, where she found peppy over a pile of papers. She walked up behind him.

"Mission complete, Peppy," she stated. Her announcement startled Peppy, causing him to jump in his seat.

He turned to face her. He took off his glasses momentarily to rub his eyes. "Good, that's good to hear."

"You seem a bit on edge, Peppy," she said with a caring, almost motherly voice, and putting a hand on his shoulder. "Maybe you should-"

"No, no, it's fine," Peppy interrupted. "I'll just…" His sentence left him, leaving him with nothing to reassure Krystal that he was capable of his work. Truthfully, he never knew what he was going to say when he started.

The blue vixen came up close to him, her face level with his, and said, "Peppy, just promise me you won't overdo it. I don't want you to go over the edge."

"I promise." He swiveled around to resume his task. "I've already seen what it did to Fox."

Krystal had almost missed this, as she was already walking away, but she was right in range to hear. She turned back to Peppy. "Fox is here?"

"Yes. Didn't you see his ship?"

"Well…" She probably would have, but the long trip home left her deprived of some of her wit. She overlooked seeing if his Arwing was there when she landed.

"I let him get some rest."

"So, he's as tired as I figured." She began to walk out again, but turned back again as another thought went through her mind. "Wait. Does that mean that there's no work?"

Peppy sighed. "There is. I just didn't want Fox to overdo himself. Seems like you share that aspect with him." Peppy paused, making sure that Krystal hadn't left. When she remained in that spot for a few moments, the hare figuring that the door's silent meant that she was still there, he continued. "Don't tell him. He wouldn't forgive me if he knew I put aside duty to sympathize his current situation."

"Sure," she replied. She turned to the door, the last time she would for that moment without shifting back to continue the conversation, and walked out.

The ship never was so silent. Normally, even though there were only a crew of six on board, it never seemed to be perfectly quiet. To add to it, Krystal was never able to listen to her surroundings. She would have some sort of subject on her mind that kept her from mindless strolling. The quietness of the ship was odd, and almost eerie.

Krystal entered her room, not quite tired enough to sleep. She was still a bit drowsy, but the conversation with Peppy somehow woke her up a bit. Without a book to read, having finished her newest one a few days ago, her thoughts wandered to Fox. They were all taking a lot of stress from the continuous stream of work, but no one, seemed to be as under pressure as Fox. Krystal rolled this thought around in her mind, trying to think of what exactly had gotten them into this, but nothing came to mind except that people needed help. And who better than the heroes they have always had?

Krystal sank into her desk chair, unconsciously clearing off her desk which had become cluttered. Following her weekly ritual of keeping her papers from overflowing, something she learned she needed to avoid very quickly, she would look quickly at each paper, throwing all of the garbage into one pile and needed documents and papers into a bin on her desk.

She eventually came across a paper that needed Fox's signature. It seemed more to Peppy's task, since most of the papers on her desk only concerned herself. Deciding she might forget it and put it into the garbage pile, she placed it onto her desk, and reached into a drawer to get a pen to lay beside it.

She went to grab a pen, but did a double take. Brightly colored words spelled 'Fichina'. The words danced in front of her, leading her to look at the rest of the image, a city that was only lightly covered in snow, an ironic location considering Fichina was mostly snow and ice. She bypassed the pen and went for what was revealed to be a brochure. How it got in there she had no idea. She read it, not quite knowing why, but felt an idea come to her mind as she finished reading. With a smile on her face, she left cleaning out her desk, and placed the brochure on her bedside. Getting into bed, having changed into a pair of green sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt, she fell asleep.

Fox woke up, feeling strangely rested. Pleasantly warm, and contented at how soft his bed was, he rolled over and looked at the digital clock beside his bed. It read 1:24pm.

"1:24pm?!", he heard a small voice in his head say. Indeed, there was a dot to the right of the numbers, underneath the PM heading. He panicked out of his bed, noting that he had somehow gotten into his clothes, and rushed out of his room.

He flew into the bridge, panting. Peppy was still writing away at the still huge amount of paperwork. And, sitting in the chair to the right of the command seat in front of different scanners was none other than Krystal. She, like Peppy, was deep in paperwork that Fox couldn't tell whether it was part of Peppy's stack or possibly hers. Then again, Fox didn't roll this over in his mind much. He was awaiting the long awaited embrace.

Krystal heard Fox's panting, turned to look, and saw him standing there. She flew out of her chair, ran to him, and wrapped her arms around him in a warm hug. It took at least a week away from each other, and then some time off, for them to really value their moments shared. However, Peppy always seemed to unintentionally ruin moments like this when they really wanted to enjoy them. Really, it was just the more public displays of affection. But regardless, this was just like the others.

"Fox," he said without turning, "I think Slippy wants to have a word you."

Fox broke away and looked in Peppy's direction. In a slightly irritated tone he said, "What for?"

"Something about…a new part for your ship or something. In his state, I wouldn't keep him waiting if I were you."

"Alright," he said a bit wearily. Not from being tired physically, but from being deprived time with Krystal. "Be back in a sec," he whispered to Krystal.

She nodded, and Fox left. This left the blue vixen with a perfect opportunity. She walked up behind Peppy, fully aware that he knew what was going on. Before Fox came in, a few hours before, she said that she had an idea that could get Fox some relaxation.

"Peppy," she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out the brochure, "I found this in my drawer."

Peppy looked over the first few pages. Images of brilliantly lit cities and fantastic view from high altitudes were printed across each one. He turned to Krystal and said, "Is there something in particular I should be looking for?"

"Here," she said. She grabbed the brochure and skipped to the page she wanted him to see.

Upon observing it, the idea looked more plausible. It seemed to be something new that Fox could go for.

"I think this is just perfect," he said, "but how will he react? He's dedicated to his work. He won't go for this so easily."

"I think I could convince him," she said, smiling. "There are a few cracks in the plan, though. You know, fees and such."

"I knew this was coming," Peppy said under his breath, so as not to sound like he was complaining. He pulled out another piece of paper.

"What's that?" Krystal asked.

"Our finances. I need to know if fitting in this vacation would put us in a bad situation or not."

Krystal sighed quietly. She walked over to her chair and slumped into it. She figured that with all the recent damages and expenses being paid, she would have to wait. So, in the spirit of killing time to the best of her nature, she pulled out a stick of gum and started chewing on it.

Fox left Slippy's workshop, nursing his head, where a wrench Slippy had been kind enough to throw at him for disturbing him had hit. Making his way somewhat angrily towards the bridge to ask Peppy if he thought that Fox getting a concussion was funny, he stopped when he heard conspiratorial voices inside. The door was open, more than likely due to some malfunction; it wasn't too out of sorts, given that ROB was in charge of keeping the whole ship in line without assistance for once. Fox edged closer until he could hear them.

"Okay," he could hear Peppy say, "it won't set us back. The only problem is how."

"I think I can figure that out," said who he recognized to be Krystal. "Remember that mission I was sent to accomplish on Fichina that took me about three weeks?"

"Yes."

"Well, I made friends with someone there. I'm sure they could help us with this."

"How will they be able to help?"

"She can-"

Krystal's words were drowned out by a bit of static feedback coming from the door's locking mechanism. A few sparks flew out of the pad. Once the feedback stopped, Fox could hear the conversation continuing.

"It won't cost us as much, and this deal with Fox will be taken care of."

"Deal?" Fox thought. "What deal?"

"Sounds good," Peppy replied. "And just think; he'll be a lot better off, and so will we."

"Of course. D'you think he's okay?"

"From Slippy? He'll be fine…Okay, he'll be in one piece, at least."

The two began to laugh, and Fox heard footsteps: Krystal was heading to the door and leaving the bridge. Doing his best to silence his thoughts so he wouldn't be detected, he scurried as silently as possibly to the closest door. Once the door shut, he sighed. He hoped that Krystal hadn't seen or sensed him. But, more pressing as it was, he was curious as to what they had planned for him.

All he knew was that it didn't sound good, and he had a feeling that it wouldn't bode well for him. He shifted a bit to the left. Apparently, he moved the shelf that was there a bit, causing a bottle of whatever cleaning product they had to fall on his head. He winced, being that it hit right where the wrench had him earlier.

"Ow!" he exclaimed, nursing his head again. He stepped out of the supply closet, as Fox discovered it to be, and walked in the direction of his room. "They wouldn't do anything too drastic. But still, what are they up to?"

A week continued to go by, laden more work and more people snooping around, trying to get and interview with the "Amazing" Star Fox, who had recently become, if possible, more famous than ever before. No one could go a day without talking about Star Fox- a seemingly infinite topic for conversation. Fox paid less attention to the media and people of the universe, and focused more on his team, from whom he suspected had something planned. Just what it was, or how it correlated with Fox being 'better off'. This all sounded controversial, but the fact that his team was loyal for so long would steer the vulpine away from speculating anything.

Peppy and Krystal were still acting suspiciously, and Slippy was being appeased as ever. As a bonus, as Fox thought he should call it even though he didn't, Falco radioed in that he embarked from his location at the time and would arrive back sometime later. One positive, however, still remained to be. Fox and Krystal were given a lot more time together, as their work seemed more timed around them departed and returning at the relatively same time. No longer could the two complain or think ill of the horizon, knowing that they would see each other more even with the spike of activity requiring mercenary expertise.

But at that moment, there was no call to action for the team. Fox was lying on his bed, enjoying the momentary rest he was so graciously granted. He was so relaxed that the click of the intercom didn't even faze him out of his respite.

"Fox!" came Peppy's voice. "Report to the bridge immediately!"

"Aack!" Fox jumped up; moving so quickly that his momentum brought him crashing off of his bed. Groaning, he heaved himself up, and walked to the bridge, now deeply engulfed in a bad mood.

He found the rest of his team there. Falco looked annoyed that he was wasting his time, Slippy apparently of the same mind, and Krystal and Peppy to be nervous, but also anticipating something.

"Made it back fine, Falco?" Fox asked.

"Tch." Falco made no effort to be in a positive attitude. But what could you expect from the arrogant ace pilot that rarely followed orders fully? "You really need to ask? I kicked their space pirating asses."

"And how many might be left?" Fox grinned as he asked.

"…" Falco remained silent and looked in another direction.

"Exactly as I thought. Now," he said as he turned to the others, "what is it that you called me here for?"

Peppy looked to Krystal, who nodded at the chance they were about to take. The hare then turned to Fox and said, "Fox, I've noticed how dedicated you have been the past weeks, and I am really inspired at your focus and determination."

"Uh…Wow, thanks. A little weird, but that means a lot."

"However, that seems to be affecting you greatly, Fox. So Krystal and I think you should take a break."

"A break? I don't really see how that can solve this problem you think I have."

"He means a vacation, Fox," said Krystal. "We got you a room at a ski resort on Fichina."

Falco looked like he had been slapped right across the face by one of his previous 'lady friends', as he would call them. Slippy nodded his head, somehow making sense of what had just been said. Fox stood there, a smile gathering on his face.

"Very funny, guys. Is this gonna be put on the Internet or something? I bet you got ROB to tape this..." He almost felt like laughing.

Krystal looked at him cautiously. "No Fox, we mean it."

"I don't!" Falco blurted out. "I wasn't told about this! And even if I was, it'd still be a load of crap!"

"Falco, what's your problem?"

"I've been busting my ass way more than Fox has, and he gets to go relax?!"

"Well, Falco, you seem to be holding up better. Fox is being driven to exhaustion, and-"

"Ya know, it doesn't matter!" Falco shouted as he walked to the door. "Just a load of crap."

"I'm sorry to say, Krystal," Fox cut in, "but Falco does have a point. I don't think I should take the vacation either."

"But, Fox," Krystal replied, "you're working yourself to death. If you don't relax, something could happen."

"I'll be fine, Krystal. I appreciate your concern, but I'm your leader. I can't just dismiss my duty."

"Fox, please."

"I'm sorry, Krystal, but I've made my decision. I'm not going."

Peppy and Krystal looked disappointed and worried at Fox's choice. All the plans made, hopes high for their leader's rejuvenated health, and for what? Getting their idea shot down just because Fox felt otherwise. Krystal wanted to object and convince him to go, but she knew that when he makes a decision with his commanding tone, that was it. There was no convincing him, not even with Krystal 'certain charm', as some might call it.

"Damn right, you're not taking the vacation," Falco said gladly. It was obvious that he wanted this to happen and he likely anticipated Fox's stubbornness in the matter. "In that case, Fox, why not help with the rest of those pirates? Shouldn't be too much a problem."

"Might as well," Fox replied while heading for the door, "seeing as you can't get rid of them yourself."

"Very funny," Falco replied while following his leader.

Krystal sighed and sat down in her chair. Peppy did the same, and went back to the still large pile of papers. "Well, Krystal," he said, "I guess that's that."

"I'm gonna head back to the workshop," Slippy said. Krystal nodded, and the toad walked out, leaving the other two to brood over what could happen.

Krystal wanted to accept Fox's decision, but it didn't seem right. She knew this couldn't lead anywhere pleasant, and Fox was in for some sort of injury or ailment. If he didn't rest soon, something was going to happen.

But Krystal tried to have hope. Fox had never let them down before; aside from minor flukes that were hardly nuisances at all. He was, after all, the hero of Lylat. Despite her foreboding, she kept her faith with Fox, and hoped his refusal wouldn't get him into anything dire.

"What's the worst that could happen, anyway?" she thought. After reassuring herself, she got up and walked out of the bridge.

With the newly repaired data system, Sebastian was linked to the entire base. No longer was he restrained by how long his subordinates could reach him. Now, he only had to endure their insufferable pathetic dribble only when he had to. Only when the status of the base was not to his expectations would he send in one of the workers, or more annoyingly, Terrance.

Sitting in his chair, Sebastian scanned over the projection of the grid. Readings of the base were shown where they were most prominent. Smaller and insignificant levels weren't of the feline's concern. His attention, though thoroughly looking over every last detail of his men's work, was draw closely to one part of the base.

The lab had readings that differed from one second to another. Heat levels would rise, then fall; electricity would spike dramatically, then only shifts by a few watts within a second. From this point of view, production looked to be improving from before, where it seemed laziness and, possibly, insolence could have been used to describe the work ethic of these followers. That is, from Sebastian's opinion. Sure, he despised them, but they served him, and so long as he had control over them, it would work.

Or it would have worked, had productivity not faltered in the lab. Suddenly, all readings shut down. Sebastian stared at this for a moment, not sure what to think, other than, "They'd better start back up, or so help me…" When nothing occurred, his face distorted in anger, provoking him to slam the intercom button.

"Worker squads 4 and 5, get up here, NOW!" He yelled. He paused a moment, without releasing the button, then spoke again. "Terrance, get up here, too." The button clicked and the intercom switched off. He didn't bother to hear any squabble quite yet. He would hear it when yelled at the top of his lungs.

The workers soon arrived, Terrance showing up soon after. They stood in the middle of the command room, the part that was like an assembly hall. The workers stood their ground well, no matter how intimidating the scene looked for them. Terrance, on the other hand, was quivering like a pitiful child who just saw his parents murdered in front of him.

Several steps in front of them were a flight of stairs, stretching in width to either side of the room. Going about twenty steps up, they led to where Sebastian was sitting, eyeing them like irrelevant ants on a sidewalk.

"Production is faltering in the lab," Sebastian said monotonously, getting up form his chair and slowly walking down the steps. "How do you explain this?" By now, he was down five steps.

"Sir, you've got to understand," the middle worker said feebly.

Sebastian, having at least 13 steps to go turned so he was facing away from them. After a few seconds, Sebastian, jump up and flipped backwards, his feet almost touching the ceiling as he did. He fell right behind the worker, withdrew a knife with his right hand from the holster in his boot, and brought up to his throat, while at the same time, holding it with his left arm around his neck. The feline's cloak fell some time after, and the workers saw their leader in his battle suit, consisting of what a normal army soldier would wear, only in black instead of camo. They were especially surprised at his built. Their idea of a leader like him was a scrawny weakling. This contradicted what they all thought. He was quite the opposite. He wasn't extremely muscular, but was pretty close to that of an average heavy lifter. And the fact that he was able to leap up and withdraw the weapon so quickly was astonishing to them.

"So, what is there to understand?" he said calmly, with a smile on his face. "The plans are not to my expectations, so how about you understand this: Get productivity up to maximum." He shifted the blade closer to the worker's throat.

"But…sir," he choked out, "we're low on power cells. We don't have enough energy to finish! The supply ships were never delivered!"

"Hmm? Is that so? And how is that my problem? I wanted progress, not a hard luck story! You get productivity up, or else!" His shouts were right in the worker's ear.

"But…Lord Sebastian…"

"I've had enough with your squabbling!" He brought the knife to the left and quickly slashed across the worker's neck, spraying blood up to a few feet away. Sebastian let go of him, letting the body fall limp on the floor. There was no color left in the worker's eyes as a puddle of blood grew underneath him. "You two!" he shouted, pointing the knife at the remaining two. "Get your asses in gear and do whatever it takes to get work done in the lab! Hop to it, you slackers!"

"Yes, Lord Sebastian!" the workers saluted him. They ran out of the room, both in a rush to get done and in great fear of their lives.

"And Terrance…" He slid the knife in it's holster, and grabbed his cloak. "Clean up this mess. Put the body in the incinerator."

"Y-yes, sir…" He slowly walked up to the body, and grabbed the back of the shirt on it. He began dragging it out the door, almost convulsing o the floor at what he saw. Once he left, the room was filled with silence once more, not to mention a trail of blood leading to the door.

Sebastian walked back up the stairs, putting his cloak back on. He sat down in the chair, facing out the window. He rested his head on his right knuckle.

"They'd better get done soon…It's so boring around here."

Damn...Sebastian isn't your normal psychotic mastermind, is he? He's pretty badass, huh?

For this fic thus far, we would be able to reference where we got some of our ideas. "Prayer Of The Refugee", a song by Rise Against. Tyrants Grip by Atrox M. And most importantly, the Holocaust. So yeah.

Hope you liked that…As I usually say. I guess…the other two do also. So, please, review ell, my friends. Our (hypothetical) life is at stake. :3

Sayonara for now, all!