-grafitti seen in San Francisco, California
The bright sun of the Mossflar System glared off the thick titanium surface of Station 13-M. Three small, egg-shaped transport pods glided smoothly into the docking bay, the passengers of them greeted being greeted by the automatic recording being broadcasted from the station to their radios.
"Welcome to Station 13-M," buzzed the three transmitters simultaneously, "The Standard Loamhedge Calendar read the 7th of the first month, 2155. Today is meeting number 463391-PL. Minutes of the last meeting may be obtained-"
Jonas Gerarden, aboard the second docking pod, turned his communicator off, annoyed by the droning robotic voice speaking through it. As his personal transport pod touched ground, the mouse opened the hatch and unceremoniously jumped out. One of the mechanics, a monkey named Jo-Bob, slammed the door shut and began making repairs to the craft as the passengers of the other two pods disembarked.
Mikkal Howler, lupine representative of Tundrus, and Karn Greeneyes, the newly elected feline representative of Shout, shook paws.
"So," said the wolf, grinning, "Yore th' new board member, eh?"
The panther nodded, replying, "Aye, 't wasn't much of a comp'tition, if yer know what I mean."
The three board members were soon greeted by a vixen in a red work suit, her headfur in a bun and a tiny pair of rectangular glasses perched on the end of her snout, saying, "Welcome to Station 13-M. My name is Rose, and if you have any questions, I-"
"Yeah, yeah, lets go already," snapped the mouse rudely. Sighing a little, the attendant led them to the meeting room, where either a bear or two shrews stood by the four entrances. In the center of the room was a long black steel table, seven places set on it: one at the head, three on each side. A huge badge with a single black stripe on his head clad in a burgundy suit sat at the end of the table, drumming his claw impatiently. The other three seats facing the door through which the tardy Board members entered were occupied by a panda, an armadillo, and a ferret.
The badger, Garthon Shanus of Thorn, growled slightly. "Well," he said, through clenched teeth, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "Finally decided to come, I see..."
"Aye," answered the wolf, "We did, yer High- er... Board Headness." Mikkal grinned, bowing before taking a seat. The two beasts with him followed suit and were given a menu each by one of the bears, a large brown grizzly. The vixen, who now stood behind and to the right of Head of the Board, exchanged nods with the bear as he took his place next to the door.
Garthon cleared his throat, glaring at the latecomer, then briefly raised a paw to the vixen standing behind him. She nodded, then began speaking.
"As most of you know, this is meeting 463391-PL, first of 2155. He," said Rose, extending a paw to the black panther, "is Karn Greeneyes from Shout of PV alignment, newest member of the Board of the Mossflar System."
Taking a small device out of her pocket and placing it on the table, Rose nodded to the badger and resumed her stance. Garthon pressed a button on the small metal box and said, "Alright, meeting 463391-PL is now in session. As usual, I attended the annual USO meeting the 1st of this month, where the Lylat incident was discussed. It was agreed that all systems of the USO be encouraged to have an active Star Force." The Board Head took six copies of his notes from the USO meeting from the vixen and passed them around to the other representatives, then continued.
"A Star Force must have the listed requirements to be an official Star Force: a large transport vehicle to house four ships, four team members, and a minimal crew; an exact replica of the Arwings used by the StarFox team for each team member; and four members of different species and specializations."
Leann Austin, the armadillo from Tews, stood up. Garthon nodded to her, allowing her to speak. "An' jes wheah ah we s'posta fahn' thayse foah membehs?"
The badger hesitated slightly before answering, trying to decipher the armadillo's western accent. "Well... I propose we make an open call to allbeasts interested..." Immediately, Jonas stood up, not even waiting for the badger to finish nodding.
"Before you go proposing anything, who says we can afford this Star Force of yours?"
Yun Xuan Chan, the panda representing Ates, stood up, waiting for Garthon's nod, then added, "Ah yes... what about the... communication network?" She spoke slowly, and with a heavy eastern accent.
After both beasts sat down, Garthon continued, "Please realize that it would be much less convenient to contact another system for help in a dire situation with this improved network and would be more effective to have the help we need right here." Nods and murmurs of agreement rose from the Board members, all save Jonas. The badger finished, saying, "Alright then. Let's take a vote. Allbeasts in favor of establishing a Star Force and putting the communications network on hold?"
"Aye."
"Aye."
"Aye."
"Aye."
"Aye."
Garthon turned to the mouse, who now looked distressed. "The 'ayes' have it!" Turning back to the rest of the Board, the badger said, "Now, any suggestions as to where our Star Force team will be trained and stationed?"
The ferret, Dirk Bladeclaw of Loamhedge, stood up, waited for the Board Head's approval, then said, "Well, Redwall City is a good a place as any. There's still building space available and Loamhedge i in the middle of the system, making it the shortest distance from any point."
Garthon nodded, saying, "Now, anybeast agree?" The five "ayes" sounded again, and the badger continued. "So be it. The Star Force of the Mossflar System will be stationed on Loamhedge."
As Garthon outlined how the members would be chosen for the team, Jonas, Rose, and the grizzly exchanged worried looks, but a fourth beast was equally as distressed, although angry as well.
The sun began to set slowly, and the temperature started to cool. The city lights flickered on, illuminating the deserting streets. The orange-yellow sun setting on the horizon mirrored off the reflective windows of the tall city skyscrapers, making the city glow as if it were on fire. In one particularly tall building, which stood out from the rest, a lone coyote in the top office felt like he actually was on fire.
Shean Cordassis, president of Life Technologies, Incorporated, sat at his deep brown mahogany desk, claws folded beneath his chin, and elbows resting on the desktop, contemplating what he saw through the monitors on his desk.
Each colored screen showed the Board meeting in progress from three different angles: one of the table from a distance on the same side Jonas sat at, the second of the members from behind the Board Head's chair, and the third of the view from the seat to Garthon's immediate right.
This was, of course, not the first time Shean had been displeased with the things he heard and saw through his spies' hidden cameras while at Station 13-M. He had found that by changing his business objectives, he was able to keep Life Technologies on its footpaws. In the 50 years Life Technologies had been around, since his father had started it in a small clinic on Tews, it had begun as a corporation dedicated to the development and manufacturing of high-tech medical supplies. Now, after Shean made his modification to the family business in the five short years he had been running it, Life Technologies had kept its medical research front, but became a corporation of genetic experimentation and the manufacturing of biological weapons.
"Well," the coyote growled through the microphone that transmitted to Jonas' earpiece, "Make a better effort than that! This Star Force could wipe out Life Technologies if it goes into action!" Jonas' camera moved up and down slightly, indicating he had understood.
Shean sighed, then glanced over at the computer on the right side of his desk. A green triangle icon in the corner of the screen was blinking, and with the press of a button on the keyboard, a window popped up, displaying static. Adjusting the camera on top of the monitor, the coyote pressed a second button.
The image of a vole wearing a pair of glasses and a labcoat with his graying headfur slicked back appeared in the window on the screen.
Shean grumbled. "What've ye got to report now?"
"Well, sir," said the vole, adjusting his glasses, "We've got the uh... 'specimens' you asked for, ready for the er... 'experiment'."
The company president heaved a sigh. "Fine, fine, I'll be down in a second. 's that it?"
The vole became nervous, saying, "Well... er... there's a uh... plasmodium leak in Area 19B..."
"So? Get it fixed!"
"That'll take some time..."
"Fine, I don' care when ye do it, jus' as long as ye do."
"We uh... can't begin the um... 'experiment' until it's repaired."
Shean slammed a clenched paw on his desk. "Idiot! Then get it fixed now!"
"Er... yes, sir."
The screen displayed static once more and was closed with another button push, revealing the main screen. Shean was about to return his attention to the cameras when he noticed the "Security" button on the screen flashing red. Selecting it with the keyboard, the screen displayed the many areas seen through the surveillance cameras. Immediately, the camera view with the offender was enlarged to full size.
Shean pressed the security button on his desk. "Yes Mr. Cordassis, sir?" buzzed the intercom.
"Yes, security? We 'ave an intruder in Area 19B and I suggest you check it out if you want t' keep your job."
"Right on it, sir."
Shean sat back and reclined in his brown leather chair, putting his western style boots up on the desk. Today was not a good day.
Joe Sydney, the "intruder" in Area 19B chuckled to himself. "Yer a real cahd, wombat," he said through the headset microphone.
"Aye," came a static-blurred voice in reply, "Yeh ain't tew bahd yeself, dingo."
Joe continued to shut off or open valves on the pipes. "Noice actin' foh a bloke wid a thick ahccent."
"'t's not much thickeh then yoah's," answered back his companion.
Opening one last valve, the dingo spoke through the microphone, "Ow, set, maite. Unlohck th' dohs ag'in." As Joe slammed a thick pipe with a well aimed swing of his joined fists, the pressure caused it to burst and release an unknown gas into the room. He quickly ran through the unlocked and open steel door, slamming it shut behind him.
"Mish'n complaete, Don. Le's 'ead 'er owt," whispered the dingo. taking a faded blue maintenance uniform out of his shoulder bag, he zipped up the back and put the headset into his pack. Joe strode through the hall to the door that led to the staircase and headed down to the lobby.
As Don the wombat packed up his gear strewn about the security control room, a fox and a squirrel in security uniforms entered.
"Hey," shouted the fox, "Whadda you think you're doing in here?"
Just as Don turned to face the officers, startled by their unsuspected entrance, the squirrel drew the gun at his belt and fired at the wombat.
As Don lay dying, drawing his last breath, the fox stood over him. "That's right," he said, "Mr. Cordassis' orders: shoot first, don't bother askin' questions."
The sun was beginning to peer over the horizon in the city of Cafari. A young lemur with a big of newspapers on his shoulder picked one out and tossed it onto the Kito estate, coming short of the doorstep and landing it in the bushes nearby. A yell came from within the house in the outskirts of town on the river bank, followed by the front door opening.
A mature young lion of sixteen Loamhedge years sulked out sleepily to retrieve the paper in the hedge, reading the headliner aloud to himself. "Wombat Spy Found In Corporate HQ," he grumbled, scratching his thin red mane. Disregarding the front cover top story, Sanghi turned the newspaper over to the bottom fold, more interested in the second headline he read aloud. "Board Enlisting Star Force Members," he said thoughtfully. "This could be the work I'm looking for," Sanghi muttered, having come to a complete stop in his front yard, wearing nothing but a pair of shorts and a white tank top. "And not only would I be getting the cash in need," Sanghi added to himself, his voice having risen, "I'd be getting away from the parents I don't."
Hearing his son's voice, Kilba came out to the doorstep in his blue bed robe. "Who do you t'ink you're talkin' to, cub?" his father asked sternly in his thick southern accent.
Sanghi sighed, "Nobeast."
"Are you jus' goin' to stan' dere or are you goin' to give me de paper?"
The young Kito male angrily handed his father the Morning Edition of the Global Shout.
"Dat's bettah. Now, cub, get inside an' eat your breakfast. Your moddah is not a patient marm." Kilba held the screen door open with a massive paw as his son, who was just as tall as he, marched past and into the house.