Encounters

Author's note: If you've read my one shots, you might recognise the first quarter of so of this chapter. Yes, I confess, I borrowed from myself. Thanks to Tankz745 and Thespacedoge for beta-reading.

Fox slowly walked down the corridor, his legs heavy as if wading through water. Deep in thought, ears twitching beneath the green cap, he paid little attention to the people milling about around him. He was a mercenary who had thrown himself into the Lylat Wars without the slightest bit of hesitation. He had always trusted his skills and instincts, which had led him to victory against many enemies: the Andross and his Venomian forces, the SharpClaw dinosaurs, the Aparoids who assimilated everyone in their path, and the bioengineered Anglars.

Yet he felt a paralysing apprehension before his next mission. Out of the comfortable cockpits of his Arwing fighter and Landmaster tank, he also felt out of his depth. He didn't even have his trusty blasters at hands. His next task required a completely different skill set, one he wasn't confident that he possessed. Critical success factors seemed out of his control.

He stopped in front of the imposing double doors, staring blankly at the dark and heavy timber as he adjusted the cap and smoothed out a wrinkle in his green Cornerian Army uniform. He felt extremely uncomfortable in it, but at least he was wearing his old belt with the Star Fox insignia, just as a good luck charm. He took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, straightened his back and opened the doors.

The chanting of several dozen excited voices went up as he entered the lecture hall.

"FOX! FOX! FOX!"

Overwhelmed by anxiety, the legendary fighter pilot and hero of Lylat looked up, his gaze darting back and forth between the rows of young faces staring back at him with their eyes full of anticipation. He could feel their expectations like a suffocating smoke in the air, or was it his own all too high expectations on himself, to follow in his father's footsteps and finish what he could not? Closing his own eyes, he conjured up the vision of the rock in his life, the pillar to lean on as long as he appreciated that it was there, the beautiful blue woman he had so nearly lost.

"You'll be fine. Just imagine a room full of your friends, people like Falco, Slippy and me," Krystal had said while doing up his neck tie. "You can even imagine them naked." When he blushed, she added with a sly smile, "Well, maybe don't picture me naked. Not when you're in front of the class anyway."

He opened his eyes and saw the rows of seats filled with the faces of Falco, Slippy and Krystal. "Just be yourself," she had said as he waved goodbye that morning.

Be himself? But who was he? Their leader, his team had always said, who they had followed into battle without hesitation. They had always trusted him to forge a plan, think on his feet and guide them to victory, just as Peppy had trusted him with the leadership of Star Fox at an early age. He could do the same here and now; take the lead and show the way, because that's what he did best. The trick on his own mind worked and he slipped into the familiar role with ease, confidently striding out into the middle of the floor.

"Good morning, class," he said in a voice with as much authority he could muster.

"Good morning, Wing Commander McCloud!"

"Welcome to the Star Strike program," he continued. "You, of all students in the Academy, have been selected to this accelerated learning program because of your work ethics, top marks, and potential to become elite pilots. The best of the best!"

There were more cheers from the students.

"But mark my words, this will not be a walk in the park, and you will not be flaunting about the Lylat System in brand new Arwings anytime soon." He paced back and forth, his stern gaze eyeing off his audience, while his keen ears picked up the a few disappointed sighs. "Some of you may have heard rumours about me being a notorious rule bender, doing anything and everything to achieve success on my missions. Rest assured, there will be nothing such in my classes. The protocols of the Academy will be strictly enforced."

He stopped and waved a plastic card in front of the class. "And none of you have seen this, which is my personal card, with enough credits on it for a night for two at the Luna Stone Hotel, all-inclusive. This will go to the first student who gets a targeting systems lock on me in the simulators." He paused and watched the astounded faces on his students, before continuing, "Please note that I didn't even say kill, just a lock. Good luck, class, because you're gonna need it."

Laughter erupted and a heavy rock fell from his chest. Great, he had disarmed them, and his own fears as well.

"It's a date, Amelia!" A beagle in the first row turned around to a girl two rows back, a smug grin on his muzzle.

"Give me a break, Biggles," replied the long eared vulpine and rolled her eyes.

Fox made a mental note of the cocky canine and continued, "But before we head to the simulators, we need to recap some basic theory. What's a fundamental evasive action in dog fighting?"

A hand went up from each and every student in the hall.

Fox smirked at the excited response. "Okay, all together then!"

"BARREL ROLL"

He pulled a remote control from his pocket and pressed a button. A hologram appeared floating at the front of the lecture hall, showing an Arwing repeating the same manoeuvre over and over again.

"During the roll, the inertia within the gravity diffuser causes a temporary spacetime deviation, which enacts a counterforce and deflects approaching missiles in the direction of the tangent."

He pressed another button and concentric circles were overlaid on top of the hologram, expanding outwards and visualising how incoming missiles were scattered.

"Repeat that, Biggles," said Fox with a stern look on his face as he stared down the cheeky beagle.

"Err... Gravity thing can sorta bounce off enemy attacks?"

"That's a good summary of Slippy's scientific explanation. I couldn't have said it better myself. Gold star for you, but no cigar 'cos you're not old enough yet." Fox brought down more laughter from the class. Biggles looked somewhat deflated in his seat, but he was still smiling. This was going better than Fox expected, and he was starting to enjoy it.

He was going to be just fine.

Hackles took his eyes off the monitors for a moment to look out the side window. The asteroid belt was thick around them. An approaching enemy could be taking cover behind any of the boulders, so the radar was of limited use. Right now, they were hiding themselves though. The glow from Omega Kandesca - a white dwarf star - illuminated the boulders around them, including the one their shuttle was lurking behind. A short distance away, a Wolven starfighter hovered in the shadow of another rock. More importantly, their entire little operation was out of direct view from Omega Kandesca II as they called it; the small planet the Vixon had turned into their new home.

Two figures in spacesuits carefully moved a smaller rock into the Lagrange point of the two larger asteroids. There were an array of these scattered around the asteroid belt. Their antennas, cleverly disguised as impact craters, were constantly listening for transmissions from the Vixon base. By buffering the data and relaying it to the Wolven's intelligence centre as short subspace bursts, it was virtually impossible for the enemy to detect them. It seemed the Vixon suspected something though, because the satellites had detected patrols along the borders of the asteroid belt, though the Vixon had not found any of the spy satellites yet. Sometimes the satellites were knocked about by other rocks though, needing repairs and replacements, so here they were deep into enemy territory.

His pondering was interrupted by Sabre, who was in the cockpit with Hackles. "The technicians have returned to the airlock safely."

Hackles opened a communications channel. A grey she-wolf with cropped hair appeared on the screen.

"We are ready to leave, Ylva," said Hackles.

"Acknowledged, Squire," she replied, always the teaser. Ylva had recently been promoted to Knight's status, whereas Hackles had a few months left of his training.

Hackles rolled his eyes at her. "Lead the way, Knight," he said with a gruff and put a dark-furred paw around the yoke.

"Just try to keep up, will ya," said Ylva with a smirk before ending the call.

Instead of heading straight home, they set off at a moderate pace through the maze of space boulders, in an attempt to conceal the satellites' locations, should their ships be spotted. Hackles felt uneasy, piloting the shuttle with only one fighter as escort. At least one more fighter would have been preferable, but since The Doom they were low on ships, low on resources, and basically low on everything. He couldn't think of anyone he'd rather have there than Ylva. She was a darn good pilot. They had gone through knight's training together, although Ylva was a year above Hackles, and he considered her a close friend. Heck, they had gone through a lot together, more than enough adventure in his opinion.

"What's on your mind?" Sabre cocked an eyebrow and looked at Hackles.

"Just piloting, Sire," said Hackles dismissively.

"I know you well enough to recognise your thinking face, Hackles."

Hackles sighed quietly. "Don't you think we're taking rather big risks for the sake of a few satellites?"

"We need as much intel as we can." Sabre spoke with authority. "In case the Vixon decide to strike first again."

Hackles knew what his master was talking about. It was widely suspected that The First of The Protectors-the General of the Vixon military-and a small task force had staged a covert attack on Sabre's father Randorn, damaging The Shield in the process. Without its protection, Cerinia had been bathed in the lethal radiation from Alpha Kandesca, the flare star which it orbited. That's why the Wolven people lay the blame of The Doom squarely on the Vixon.

"You are certain that Kamuy destroyed the shield emitter."

"She disappeared after The Doom." Sabre's voice lowered to a growl. "But so did a Vixon starship, so she must've escaped with it after being banished by The Matriarch."

"How much of that do we actually know?"

Sabre's head snapped around. Hackles put on his most innocent face. Sometimes he got away with stupid questions, seemingly questioning his superiors, because he had a reputation for being a bit dimwitted. Sabre knew better though and glared daggers at Hackles for a moment, before his face softened. "Not much," he said and sighed. "The Vixon never talk about Kamuy... or Krystal. But one day we'll find out, by means of our satellites or otherwise."

It didn't add up to Hackles though; there was no logical reason, no benefit to the Vixon to destroy The Shield. Their casualties had been as great as the Wolven's. It seemed to him that the suspicion was a big case of collective PTSD, which probably wasn't strange after what had happened. It sure had not helped the ancient conflict between Wolven and Vixon. Hackles had gone through his fair share of bad luck in his life, no doubt about that, yet he still didn't believe blaming the Vixon for everything was the answer. He liked taking a step back and reflecting, looking at the facts.

The Vixon had not been the cause of his own trauma, and he doubted they were the sole cause of Cerinia's demise, at least until there was hard evidence. Randorn the great wizard - a scientist knowledgeable in the dark matter and energy wielded by the ancient Krazoa - had been studying The Shield. Its generator and emitter were both old and worn, and it had been known to glitch before during severe solar flares. People had even died. Maybe an experiment had gone awry. Now that the wizard was beset by madness, it was impossible to get the truth out of him.

"We've reached the exit point." Ylva's muzzle reappeared on screen. "Let's head home."

Hackles pulled the yoke towards him, turning the shuttle upwards to emerge from the asteroid belt. Relieved to leave Vixon territory, he directed power to the hyperdrives, getting ready to jump to lightspeed. Suddenly, the shuttle shook violently. Lasers bounced off the shields of Ylva's starfighter in front of them, and two dart shaped ships with delicately swept wings sped past.

"Dammit," Ylva cried. "We've got flying foxes."

"Helmets, now!" Sabre barked.

Hackles didn't hesitate, instinctively hitting the button on the thick collar around his neck. In an instant, concave sections of translucent material wrapped over his head. The slightly tinted dome was one of Randorn's great designs, an improvement on a bulky metal helmet, which prevented the telepathic Vixon from reading the bearer's mind clearly. Without it, the enemy would know Hackles's every move, even before he could make them. The helmet had some side effects though, often causing vertigo before you got used to it, as well as severe headaches from prolonged use.

"They must've been tracking our minds for a while," Sabre growled. "Just waiting for a clear shot, spineless foxes."

One of the Vixon fighters came back for another strafing round, its blasts putting the Wolven shuttle's shields under stress. The ship's semi-autonomous point defences engaged, spraying laser in the direction of the incoming foe. It moved too fast for the shuttle's turrets, most beams missing and the others bouncing off the enemy craft's shields, but at least it was enough for the Vixon pilot to take evasive manoeuvres.

Meanwhile, the second Vixon fighter tagged Ylva. The she-wolf put her own ship into tight rolling scissor turns. While her Wolven fighter might look boxy in comparison, with squared off main wings, the thrusters in its four small canard wings allowed for neck-breaking turns. It was clearly the more manoeuvrable of the two spacecraft, the odd hit by the Vixon craft easily deflected by the Wolven vessel's shields. Ylva led her pursuer in a wide circle and back towards the Wolven shuttle.

Sabre quickly realised what she was doing; leading the enemy into the path of his own craft. He grasped the joystick controlling the shuttle's main gun, and fired the moment Ylva broke off. He was rewarded with the first direct hit on the enemy, and a blue glow briefly engulfed the ship, the telltale sign of a shield under high stress.

The Vixon fighter was shaken but not hurt, and quickly turned away. Ylva performed a lightning-fast roll-off-the-top turn to get on their tail, though she couldn't fend off both Vixon craft. The second one came in for another attack on the shuttle, again too fast for the point defences to track. Sabre switched to manual override to save precious ammunition. Meanwhile, Hackles pushed the yoke and increased thrust to dive back into the asteroid field. Sabre directed the laser turrets at two asteroids they passed between, the hits flinging a shower of pebbles into the space in-between. The Vixon fighter turned away to avoid the debris.

Ylva joined them as they zigzagged through asteroids, before trying to make a break for it, but the Vixon was on them again. Ylva dashed back and forth in a desperate attempt to fend off the two enemy fighters. Even as they followed the Wolven back into the asteroid field, she tried to lure them within range for the shuttle's lasers. Her situational awareness was phenomenal.

As they penetrated deeper within the belt, they lost track of the Vixon. They disappeared from the radar monitors, but that didn't mean they weren't still following. While their helmets prevented the Vixon from reading their thoughts, Hackles assumed that the telepaths could still be sensing their mere presence, while flying in cover of space rocks.

His suspicions were confirmed when they emerged on the other side of the belt, only to find the Vixon waiting for them. The deadly space dance continued, in and out of the sea of rocks, without either side getting the upper hand. They were evenly matched, and while the Vixon couldn't take them out, they prevented the Wolven ships from breaking free.

Suddenly, Hackles saw a new contact on the radar screen, and it was approaching fast. "Incoming..."

A deafening boom hit them, reverberating like thunder. A blinding while light engulfed the shuttle, bolts of electricity arcing around it.

Ylva's image on the screen flickered and went black, her voice crackling. "Oh, sh... zzz... what... zzz... EMP..."

A third and larger Vixon ship flew past, its elegantly curved hull shimmering with a golden hue. The wings and stabiliser were steeply raked backwards, but curving forwards towards the nacelles fitted to the wingtips, containing the mighty cannons that had just hit the shuttle.

Ylva's voice returned. "Damn, I've never seen an EMP like that."

"Our systems are rebooting, but the hyperdrives are offline," Hackles replied. "We're a sitting duck. We can't take another hit like that."

The Vixon craft looped around and approached again, but Ylva headed straight for it with lasers firing to stop another attack. Even with the two Vixon fighters on her tail, she flew frantically, pestering the Vixon twin-seater to keep it away from the shuttle.

"Dammit," she said. "I can keep them away from you guys, or I can keep them off my tail, but not both."

Hackles knew it was only a matter of time before one of the Vixon would land a critical hit on Ylva's fighter. His instruments showed that the hyperdrives were still a minute from coming back online. The Vixon had figured as much, and hailed the shuttle on an open frequency.

"Surrender, and you'll live," said a female voice.

"Hang on a second." One of the technicians had taken a seat behind them, the female jackal's fingers flying over touchscreens. "According to voice recognition, that's Kiera Livenup."

"How certain are you?" said Sabre.

"97%"

That's bad news, thought Hackles. Kiera was an ambitious warrior, high-ranking Protector, and granddaughter of the Vixon Matriarch herself.

Sabre seemed unfazed and returned the Vixon's call. "No, you leave, or I'll blow our reactors."

"You're bluffing."

"I'm not." Sabre's voice was calm and collected. "Everything in a five kilometre radius will be obliterated from the radiation."

To Hackles's astonishment, he could see that Sabre was in fact not bluffing. The displays confirmed that Sabre had overridden the computer's engine controls.

Sabre muted the call. "Hackles, turn off your helmet." He made it sound like an order.

"But... then they'll be able to read me."

"Exactly!"

Seeing the twin-seater approaching from directly in front, while Ylva was preoccupied with the two Vixon fighters, Hackles reluctantly reached for the switch on his collar. He experienced a moment of double vision. Was it from the visor retracting, or a telepath jumping into his mind? The controls in front of him showed that the reactor's power level was critical and the stabiliser systems still offline. Another direct EMP hit would overload it, showering them all with gamma rays.

He really means it. The voice inside his head conveyed fear, but was it his own, or did the telepathic link go both ways?

There is no need to fight. That's what he'd always thought, that the old war between Wolven and Vixon was pointless, only leading to endless suffering.

It doesn't have to be this way. They couldn't control his body, but... they sounded so convincing. It made sense. He could stop what Sabre was doing from his own controls, they were within arms reach...

That's right, you can end this madness, just reach out. Crossing his arms in front of his chest, he clenched his hands, claws threatening to dig into flesh. He turned to look at Sabre, who stared out the windscreen at the Vixon ship with a manic look in his eyes.

"She'll blow in forty seconds," said the Knight with an unnerving smirk on his muzzle. "What's it gonna be?"

Sabre! Was it his own thought, or had the telepath recognised the Wolven knight?

You care about him. Hackles wondered how they'd found out. Had the telepath been digging around his memories?

Don't let him risk his own life for nothing. The thick fur on the neck of the black wolf stood on end, the reason for his nickname. Hackles' vision was swimming and he closed his eyes, not wanting to look at the increasing number of warning lights on the monitors. His head was spinning, not knowing which thoughts were his, and which the telepaths had planted. He wanted to follow his instinct and intervene, but he mustn't.

"What's it gonna be?" Sabre repeated.

The Vixon attack ship sat absolutely still in space dead ahead of them, its cannons glowing ominously. But as suddenly as it had arrived, it banked and engaged its thrusters. Three bright flashes lit up the cockpit, illuminating Sabre's face and those crazy eyes, as the Vixon ships jumped to lightspeed and vanished.

"The reactor is stabilising," said the jackal. "I'm running a full systems check... Everything's returning to normal."

Ylva's fighter pulled up next to them. "Welp, that's enough excitement for today, I think."

Hackles put one trembling hand around the yoke, and increased thrust with the other. He let the ship cruise for a while, just in case, before engaging the FTL drives and finally heading out of the system. You could cut the tensions in the cockpit with a knife, and for an hour they flew in silence, only interrupted by the occasional tapping on touch screens from the technician.

"I've managed to retrieve some buffered data from the damaged satellite," she said.

"Any mentions of Kamuy on the recordings?" Sabre looked over his shoulder. "Or Krystal?"

Krystal, always Krystal and that darn prophecy, thought Hackles. He must have growled under his breath, because Sabre spun around and glared at Hackles for a while, before his face softened.

"You did well, Squire."

"Please... Don't do that again. Ever." Hackles held up a paw, thumb and forefinger nearly touching. "I was this close to stopping you, betraying us all."

"But you didn't," said Sabre, exuding confidence as always. "I knew you wouldn't. You're too steadfast."

Well, that was typical Sabre, thought Hackles and looked at the knight, who was gazing out a viewport with a stoic expression. It was always his way or the highway. But the Vixon telepath had been right about one thing; Hackles did care, more than Sabre knew. Sabre was more than a Master to him. He was like an older brother, the brother Hackles never had.

Another A/N: Although I posted First Class some 18 months ago - as a lighthearted little one-shot to counter the darkness of KBR - it was actually out of an early draft of CBD, which I was already working on. It's just taken some time, that's all. I'm up to my usual silliness as well. The two named students are of course nods to the aviation pioneer Amelia Earhart and the fictional pilot James Bigglesworth.