Intelligence

Peppy huffed and puffed as he walked up the curved stairs of his official residence, holding on to the wooden railing with one hand, and with the other on Dominik's shoulder. He had recently returned to work, even though he had not yet fully recovered from his medical episode, so he was grateful for Dominik's support. The butler turned towards the bedroom wing, but Peppy stopped.

"There's something I need to do in my office," he said.

Dominik raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure that's a good idea, Sir?"

"I just need a few minutes to myself before bed, that's all."

The borzoi twisted his nose sideways, as he unconsciously did when he disapproved of something, but then he nodded. "Very well, Sir. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

"That'll be all for tonight, Dominik." Peppy put a hand on the door handle. "Did I tell you supper was excellent?"

"Only twice, Sir!" The butler smiled smugly before turning on his heel and returning down the stairs.

"Minimal lighting," Peppy ordered as he stepped into his office. The voice control obeyed and turned on an antique lamp on a side table, providing just enough light so that he could see his way to his desk. Doctor's orders be damned, he thought and opened his secret compartment to pour himself a cognac. He questioned why he was so secretive about it as he leaned back in his armchair and took a sip, savouring the burning feeling of the liquid. Dominik had probably figured out about his little vice anyway.

"Good evening, General!"

Peppy did a spit take, spraying alcohol all over his desk, before turning towards the gravelly voice. "How'd you get in?"

"I know my way around. Had a few private business meetings with Pepper here." Someone rose from a chair in a dark corner of the room and walked towards Peppy while dragging the chair behind him, revealing himself to be an Alsatian with a greying muzzle. "Care to share?"

"I wasn't expecting you in person." Peppy poured another cognac, while studying the dog's attire: faded blue jeans and a leather bomber jacket; the hare always found clothing made from animal hides unnerving.

"Less traces this way." The canine accepted the glass and sniffed the contents. "Was in town anyway, visiting my daughter, escaping the Fichinan winter."

"Isn't it always winter there?" Peppy cocked an eyebrow.

"More or less, usually more," said the dog with a chuckle. "Got any cigars as well?"

Peppy pulled a box—the birthday gift from Star Wolf—from the secret drawer, placed on the desk and opened the lid. The dog snipped the end of one, put it in his mouth and lit it before snipping another one.

"Looks like you could do with one as well."

Peppy hesitated before accepting it, and took a drag only to break out in a coughing fit.

"To Cornelius Pepper!" The Alsatian raised his glass, they clinked, and he drained half of it in one gulp with a satisfied sigh. While the dog leaned back and blew a smoke ring, which slowly rose up towards the ceiling, Peppy turned his attention to his secret drawer, which for once contained classified documents. He put the manila folder on the desk, placed his reading glasses on his muzzle, and started flicking through the papers.

"Your file is quite impressive and somewhat disturbing: recruited to Advanced Combat Intelligence, bio-enhancements, black ops, countless kills, missing in action—" Peppy looked over his glasses "—and presumed dead."

"I'm sure you didn't call to discuss my resume." The canine motioned towards the document. "That's not meant to exist anyway."

"It's from Pepper's private stash. He helped you get a new identity, after all, a new life…"

"You've read the file, what the ACI did to me." The dog growled and took another drag. "You can understand why I needed to get away."

"I do, Sven, but I still need to call in that last favour you own Cornelius. When he handed over the reins to me, he said that if I ever needed outside help from someone independent, Captain Schutz would be the best man for the job." Peppy rose and wandered over to the window, separating the curtains a little to peek towards Corneria City, its skyline glimmering in the night. "There is a new organisation in town, SIRIUS, the frontline of Cornerian defence, working semi-autonomously in the shadows, and filling the void left after Pepper dismantled the ACI."

"New name, same shit?"

"Exactly! They have been… studying some Cerinian prisoners of war the past few years—"

"Krystal will be mighty pissed when she finds out," Sven chuckled.

"She has and it was unpleasant. I should know." Peppy closed his eyes at the mere memory of that night, and the mental pain she had inflicted. "She never lost her powers."

"Let me guess." Sven scratched his neck absentmindedly, not looking the least surprised. "You think she'll go after them, and want to make sure she doesn't cause trouble."

Peppy turned around to meet the Alsatian's unwavering gaze from alert brown eyes set in a face weathered from years in the field. "About that…"

Panther looked out the car's window to take in the view. Cinder Street Station, an old building in yellow and red bricks, stood in stark contrast to the gleaming skyscrapers surrounding it.

"Pull over," he requested.

"Should I engage ride-share mode?" The vehicle's auto-pilot enquired.

"No, I won't be long. Just find the nearest car park and don't worry about hourly rate."

The vehicle pulled up to the curb and the gull-wing door opened above Panther, at the same time as the seat rose from its near laying position to make it easier for him to exit. He stepped onto the sidewalk and with a tap on his communicator, the door closed again. After waiting for a small gap, the low-slung vehicle merged seamlessly into the busy traffic and disappeared around a corner. Panther loved taking his sports car—the top-of-the-line model of course—through fast trips along Corneria's country highways nearly as much as he loved flying his Black Rose, but clogged city streets were not the place for that.

Besides, several blocks near the old railway station were a car free zone, so he had to continue to his destination on foot, but he didn't mind. Many of the buildings had been levelled during recent wars, but the silver-lining was that they had been rebuilt with meticulous attention to planning. The skyscrapers were generously spaced, making room for avenues lined with trees and garden beds, while the buildings themselves housed both shops and restaurants as well as offices and residential apartments. The district was popular with young people climbing their career ladders, and always bustling with activity.

He ducked down a narrow laneway and found what he was looking for: a café with an unassuming exterior, but with strong aromas wafting out through the entrance. It had become one of his favourite establishments, and he always paid it a visit on his rare trips to Corneria City, since he simply hadn't found a better place to get a fresh and flavoursome brew.

After a quick browse through the menu, looking for something new to try, he ordered a double macchiato with single-origin Katina beans. The coffee arrived promptly accompanied by a couple of small, sweet cookies. He took a sip and his fur stood on end; the brew was very strong, but the touch of warm milk cut through the bitterness. It was delicious. He took a bite of a cookie, but nearly sprayed crumbs all over the table when he heard the voice.

"Panther?!"

It was the one voice he didn't want to hear. He looked up slowly, hoping that he had mistaken, but of course he had not. The blue-furred vixen stood by the table, smiling sweetly and looking as breathtaking as always. He tried to swallow away the cookie crumbs as quickly as possible.

"Krystal!" I sound like a fool, he thought, and composed himself to find his usual, seductive baritone voice. "Such a pleasant surprise."

He rose to take her hand and gave it a gentle kiss, slightly taken aback by feeling the hard mechanics under her thin, life-like gloves. She giggled softly at his gesture, her voice still like music to his ears. But how did she find me here?

"I thought I saw you across the street," she said, and he noticed the shopping bag in her other hand, a clothing brand he was vaguely familiar with. "Do you mind if I sit down?"

"Of course not." He held the chair for her, drawing another of those wonderful chuckles from her.

"Still the relentless, charming gentleman, aren't you?" She smirked at him.

"You know, leopards and spots, all that," he said with a wave of a hand.

They sat down and she ordered a chai latte.

"It's been so long, but honestly…" Her face turned serious, and for a moment he worried that she still had her telepathy. "How are you?" Her voice lowered to a whisper, "Wolf said you were badly hurt during the Cerinian Crisis."

Not as bad as you broke my heart, he thought. "Oh, don't worry about me." He tried to sound as if it was nothing, which it pretty much had been, having escaped the Cerinians with merely a dislocated shoulder. "Sure, there was some spinal injury and learning to walk again was harder than I thought"— Krystal's ears flattened —"but I'm honoured to have partaken in a research program into Cerinian… err… medicine."

"It's so good to hear that you're better, at least." Krystal sighed and smiled.

Panther felt relief as well, since it seemed she swallowed his yarn hook, line and sinker. "How's life as a mother?"

"Yeah, it's fine," she said a little too quickly.

He could tell from her tone that it was not, but he didn't pry and let her continue.

"Honestly… it's not all it's made out to be. I mean, I love Marcus more than everything else." She smiled and fidgeted with the wedding band on her finger. "I'm still struggling to get the accreditation I need for a job, so I'm stuck at home, being a housewife. I know I shouldn't wish for anything more than my family, but I miss the adventure."

When she laid all bare like that, Panther really felt for her, and longed to be the adventure he knew he could give her. "I heard about your expedition."

Her eyes brightened in an instant. "Yes, I'm really looking forward to it." She turned to the window with a thousand-yard stare. "I really wish I could meet my own kin. Then I wouldn't feel so alone anymore."

Panther tried to hide his muzzle behind his coffee cup, taking a big gulp and swallowing hard. He briefly toyed with the idea of taking her with him, since he soon had to return to the research station, after a short break to attend some Star Wolf business and just a little bit of personal time. The program was about to enter a critical and intense phase, weaponising the psionic antidote. Perhaps the location was obvious, in a CDF research station on Fichina that had been there since before the Lylat Wars, deep under the climate control centre. Still, it had been assumed that the thick layers of ice and bedrock would inhibit any psionic signals. After reverse engineering the device Slippy had used to jam the Cerinian communications network, it had been found that the climate control centre's generators emitted similar frequencies, potentially offering further protection.

He put his cup down with a silent sigh. It was way too late to bring Krystal into the program though. She would hate what they had done to her fellow Cerinians, and further torture was in store for them, thoroughly testing what SIRIUS was developing.

His train of thought was interrupted by a growl. A shiver ran up his spine and his heart skipped a beat. What if she still could read thoughts? He forced himself to look up, trying his hardest to smile normally.

"Sorry…" She released her grip of the scrunched up shopping bag in her hand. "It's just… Fox drives me bonkers sometimes. We still have our differences." She glanced at her watch and sighed. "I'd better get going or he'll wonder where I've been."

"No wait for you would be too long." He rose when she sprang to her feet, nearly toppling the chair over. He offered her a handshake, but she just gave him a wave with one hand, bag in the other. He called after her, "Maybe we could catch up again when you have more time?"

"Yeah, that'd be nice," she said with a glance over her shoulder. There was a smile on her face, but it looked fake, and her gaze didn't quite meet his. Then she rushed out the door with her bristled tail standing out straight behind her.

Goodness, things must not be going well at all in the McCloud household, he thought. To his surprise, he found himself hoping that Fox treated her right, but if Fox didn't, Panther certainly would. He couldn't help it, but his heart pounded a little extra in his chest thinking about the wondrous blue vixen, while his gaze fell on the half-empty cup of chai she'd left behind.

The carriage was nearly full when Krystal boarded the sky-rail, so she had to stand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a gentleman offering his seat to an older red vixen with a white cane, while a curvy snow fox stood next to them. The train set in motion with a completely smooth acceleration, but it was still lucky that Krystal was holding on to a metal pole. Her hands would have crushed anything else as fury threatened to boil over.

You did well, said Kayuq's calm mind-voice.

I was about to strangle him. Krystal looked at her prosthetic limb. It would have been so easy.

But you didn't.

Krystal huffed. Anger management, huh?

Yes. Now, focus on your body. What is it doing? Link mind and body together, and concentrate on how you can channel that anger for something useful.

Krystal loosened her grip on the pole, letting her senses permeate her body. She found that she was tense and her breathing shallow. She filled her lungs and exhaled slowly through her mouth. Repeating the process, she found herself relaxing and gradually clarity returned. I know the location of the research facility. Slippy or his father Beltino might have some schematics of the climate control centre. We can use that to plan a breakout in more detail, should we have to.

That's good. You're learning.

Krystal looked out the train window, where the bay was visible between high-rises, sunlight reflecting off the waves. She thought of swimming in the ocean, letting the water wash away the remaining anger. She tried not to think about the torture the Cerinians had endured, but how she soon would alleviate their suffering.

Thank you for teaching me, Kayuq.

Slippy and his assistant, a young tanuki who was fresh out of university and eager to learn, watched the hologram with great interest. Three Light Arwings flew over the Cornerian mountains, the simulation replaying Fox, Fay and Miyu's fateful test flight. While Denki was engrossed in the display, Slippy cast an eye on his computer monitor. A virtual machine was connected via a VPN to a remote desktop, which in turn was hooked up to another server. Blueprint after blueprint flickered past on the screen as they were being downloaded.

"I hope we get further this time," said Denki.

Slippy quickly pressed a key combination to hide the VM. "I've boosted virtual graphics memory since last run, so fingers crossed," he said, eyes still on his monitor, pretending to check on the simulation.

Dealing with the Cerinian AI chip had proven more difficult than anticipated, but he had not given up yet. The chip and the Arwing's flight computer had been put in a test rig, hooked up to mocked sensors feeding everything from accelerometer data to cockpit voice to the computers, receiving the AI output in turn and feeding it back to the simulation. Instead of trying to reprogram the Cerinian AI, he hoped that moderating the sensor data would trick the AI and prevent it from entering self-preservation mode.

"Here comes the critical part." Denki leaned forwards on his desk, his eyes wide open.

Miyu's Arwing dove down from the skies like a bird of prey. At the last second, Fox's Arwing rolled out of the way and the G-Diffusers deflected a salvo of laser from Miyu.

"Hey, that was unnecessary," said Fox's recording with a growl.

"What?" Miyu snorted. "Your shields would've taken that hit anyway."

Miyu's fighter performed an Immelmann turn before going supersonic, but Fox's Arwing followed without problem. Before long, its targeting system locked on to Miyu's Arwing.

"Damn, that was quick, Fox!"

"Target locked but EMPs are not hot," said Denki after surveying the readouts. "It seems to work so far. I'll let Fay's Arwing make another approach." He grasped a joystick next to his computer, carefully lining it up with Fox's and firing its lasers. Fox's Arwing didn't react, and kept flying in a straight line. "Hang on… something's wrong."

Seconds later, Fox's Arwing flew into a mountain side and disappeared from the hologram. Slippy checked his monitor.

"Dammit, it's been on auto-pilot for the last seven seconds." He removed his cap and wiped his brow. There were tiny crystals embedded on the Cerinian chip, and he suspected it contained some sort of sensor that perhaps contradicted the readings they tried to feed it. "It's like the AI realises it's in a simulation."

"Just a thought…" Denki's ears twitched as he thought. "What if we put an actual G-Diffuser in the rig, but reverse polarity, so that the accelerometers and the AI are exposed to realistic g-forces?"

Slippy's jaw dropped. Why hadn't he thought about that himself? "That's an excellent idea!"

The tanuki grinned from ear to ear. Slippy guessed he shouldn't be surprised. Denki was the grandson of Yaru de Pon after all.

"Let's get started on rebuilding the rig first thing in the morning." Slippy cast an eye on his wrist communicator. It was still an hour to knock-off-time, but he didn't care. "Why don't you take the rest of the afternoon off. I think you've saved us enough time anyway."

"We can both make the next train, if we hurry." Denki scrambled to pack up his laptop.

"You head off!" Slippy waved dismissively "I need to check on the servers. They were running a bit hotter than expected, so I hope the cooling is alright."

They said goodbye, and Slippy headed out of his room, taking the nearest lift down to the computer department of the Space Dynamics head-quarters. A fingerprint and retina scan let him inside the dark and air conditioned rooms, where arrays of servers hummed in unison. They all looked the same to him, but after a few minutes he found what he was looking for: the server he had been remote controlling.

Good luck to anyone trying to trace who downloaded this data, he thought as he pressed a button and a memory chip popped out. He put it in his jacket pocket and inserted a blank one into the server instead. Trying to walk at normal pace towards the exit, he thanked the air conditioning, without which he would've started sweating.

His pulse and nerves settled as he walked through the building, returning friendly greetings on the way. It seems everyone here knows me, he thought, until of course they would since his Star Fox days.

After clearing security, an autonomous shuttle bus took him from Space Dynamics to the nearest sky-rail station. The ride to the city took mere minutes, while he watched trees and buildings fly past the window in a blur. Fara always put him up in the Luna Stone Hotel—where else—when he was in Corneria City, but he made a beeline for one of the many AnyBurger restaurants, located down a short alley.

The night life had not quite taken off yet, so the restaurant was busy but not too crowded. Still, he had plenty of time to browse the menu while waiting in line. The franchise served burgers with pretty much any flavour patties you could think of, meat as well as vegetarian, and he was tempted to order an escargot special, but settled on a fish burger for a specific reason.

There was a half-full bench at the far side of the restaurant, occupied by a rowdy quartet of young men, but Slippy found a spot with an empty stool on either side. He put the paper bag with his food on the bench, and discreetly put a hand in his pocket. It felt like the memory unit burned his palm as he tried to conceal it in his hand, before he dropped it into the paper bag when he grabbed a few chips to munch on. He folded the bag back up back again and had a sip of soda, while skimming through the news on his communicator and stealing glances over his shoulder. His heart started pounding when he saw a snow fox entering the store. Not only did her loose fitting jumper and pants do little to hide her curves, but she matched the description he'd been given.

The noise volume of his neighbours' discussion increased.

"I told y'all, AnyBurgers are the best," said a buff zebra.

"Almost as good as hibachi," said a cheetah dressed like he'd come straight from the dojo.

"Bruh," said a stripy grey house cat and cracked open a purple energy drink can.

"Just gimme a pile of nuggets on a plate," said a fox with heterochromia wearing a hockey jersey.

Slippy turned his attention back to his soda and the news. Butterflies flitted in his stomach and he didn't take word of what he read in as he waited impatiently.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?" The snow fox had spoken in a thick accent and slowly as if searching for unfamiliar words.

"No, please have a seat."

When she sat down and put her bag of food next to his, he could see that she was even shorter than him, and he got a closer view of her petite muzzle and light brown eyes. She was very pretty indeed—for a carnivorous mammal that is—but had a few straggling brown hairs in her otherwise snow white facial fur. "I noticed that your winter fur has just grown out, even though Corneria City is coming into summer," Slippy continued.

"I have recently arrived," she replied. "From Papetoon."

Slippy had spent a lot of time on his best friend Fox's home planet, and could tell from her accent that she obviously was not from there, but he played along. "In that case I wish you a pleasant stay."

"Thank you." She gave him a disarming smile. "My name is Hiordis, but everyone calls me Hope."

"Pleased to meet you. I'm Slippy." He pretended to check his communicator. "My, look at the time. Sorry, but I have to go."

He lifted his cap in courtesy, and picked up her bag as he left. He was all giddy when he walked out the store. He felt like the hero in an old spy movie or something, having downloaded the complete schematics of the Fichina Climate Control Centre to the drive; not just the ones known to civilian personnel at the base, but the military version. The snow vixen would deliver them to Fox, and no one would know. He opened the bag to see what she'd bought for him, and to his delight he found that it was the Escargot Special.

He had a mouthful and went on his merry way, blissfully unaware of the old Alsatian in dark shades, who sat at a table outside the restaurant, following Slippy's every step.

The security guard—a 6'6 maned wolf—looked down on Hackles, scrutinising him as the latter scanned his paw print. The guard leaned in for a good sniff as well, before nodding and letting Hackles through the checkpoint. It was just protocol; while a fox built well enough could use fur dye and whatnot to pass as a wolf, it would be hard to hide that strong vulpine scent of theirs.

Hackles followed Ylva through the doorway and down onto the auditorium's lower level. The chamber carved into the moon rock was a mere shadow of the King's Hall in Animus, the capital of the Wolven on Cerinia, but as most things in Nyheim it would have to do. Decorations were sparse, primarily the banners of the Wolven clans hung on the bare rock walls: grey wolves, timber wolves, coyotes, jackals, and maned wolves. Rows of seats were placed in semi-circles, sloping slightly down to the centre of the room, which was occupied by a round table.

A backdrop was provided by what appeared to be windows towards open space, showing the gas giant Beta Kandesca V and its rings and moons. In reality, it was an array of monitors displaying a camera feed from the surface. The chamber itself was deep underground, because this was the most sacred and important place of their people: the assembly of the Knights of Animus. All of the people at the table were knights, some serving in the defence forces, some by honorary rank, being the leaders for education, engineering, healthcare, science and so on. Hackles noticed that Randorn was absent. Even though the old wolf was unable to participate in any discussions, his intellect broken since The Doom, Sabre usually brought him along anyway.

At the far side of the table stood the King, an old grey wolf with a simple golden crown adoring his head and wearing a royal blue robe with white lining. He raised his hands just as Ylva and Hackles had found their seats on the front row, and the murmur of the spectators fell silent.

"I now declare this assembly open," said the King in an authoritative voice and sat down. His throne was only slightly higher than the other chairs, and the round table symbolic, representing that he was one of equals even though he had the last word if so he wished. It was custom that the spectators were invited to the gatherings, involving the public in the affairs of the Wolven government. Today, Hackles had received such an invite, which should always be treated as a summon.

The King passed the word to the Knight of Engineering, a female coyote, who started reeling off figures of the latest progress in tunnel boring. The King himself was in his late 70s and with a whitening muzzle, loose fitting pelt, and a thinning mane of faded hair hanging down to his shoulders. His piercing yellow eyes, however, were alert, his gaze moving from person to person as they spoke, his upright ears taking everything in. Every once in a while he would interrupt the speaker, but not to overrule, but seek the opinion of another knight on matters of how workforce and resources should be distributed.

An agreement could not be reached, so the King declared a vote, distributed evenly between the Knights and the House of Animus—representatives elected by the people—sitting in the first row outside of the table proper. Next, the Knight of Healthcare lamented the low birthrate, the few children being born not making up for the people dying from old age. This triggered an animated discussion about how to address the problem, whether it was by better housing, schools or medical facilities.

"You'd better hurry to take Freya out," Ylva whispered under her breath with a snigger. "And father a bunch of pups."

Hackles rolled his eyes. "And what about you?"

"Nuh-uh!' Ylva visibly shuddered. "No way I'm going through that."

Hackles glanced at her, curious as to why pregnancy was one of few fears of hers. He turned his attention back to the ongoing discussion and whispered, "Maybe we need playgrounds. People are not gonna bring pups into this place unless they know they'll have a happy life."

A muted murmur went through the audience and Hackles turned his head to see a person walking down the aisle towards the centre of the room. Dressed in a white tunic and matching white pants, she had a timeless appearance; she could be middle-aged, perhaps older, but it was hard to tell. Even more striking were her keen green eyes, pointy ears, orange fur and white-tipped tail; she was a fox among wolves.

An unoccupied section of the round table parted as if by itself to let the vixen into the centre. Everyone's eyes were drawn to her, including the King's.

"Ah, Doctor Bowman," he said. "We have been expecting you."

"I apologise for the delay." She performed a graceful curtsy. "But I have gathered news that I hope will warrant the wait."

"Please, do enlighten us." The King placed a hand under his muzzle and leaned forwards, his ears trained on the fox.

"The Vixon have found and destroyed three of our surveillance satellites." The King frowned at the news, so Dr Bowman continued. "They were the old model, left there as decoys. Since they were placed in perfect symmetry, it seems the Vixon thinks they have found them all. Our new generation satellites report no further hostile activity in the asteroid belt."

The King and the gathered Knights relaxed, seemingly pleased by the news.

"Still, the Vixon did destroy the satellites, promptly searching for more as soon as they found the first one," Bowman continued. "Clearly, they are still aggressive."

The King leaned back in his throne and nodded in approval. Hackles' brows furrowed; he wasn't as quick to jump to conclusions. Dr Bowman was an out-of-system fox who had arrived at Cerinia several years ago, at first seeking refuge with the Vixon. They had rejected the visitor, which was good enough for most Wolven to embrace her—the enemy of my enemy is my friend as they say—but if the Vixon didn't trust the doctor, why should he?

"But surely this is not the news you've kept us waiting for," said the King with a slight wave of his hand.

"Indeed not, Sire. I've debriefed a scout who just returned from exploring the Krazoa wormhole network, and they found a planet populated by these people." The vixen held up a hexagonal device in her hand, and from the crystal in its centre sprang a portable hologram showing a moth-like bipedal creature with wings. "These are the Luminoth on the planet Aether, approximately 30 parsec away, and they were hardly happy to meet our explorer."

"Hostile, are they?" The King crossed his arms. "Should we expect trouble?"

"I highly doubt it, they just want to be left alone. After the scout learned some of their language and culture, they volunteered that their defensive stance is because of a visit a few years ago." Dr Bowman waved her fingers to control the hologram and the view shifted to an immense starship, then a delegation of blue foxes meeting the Luminoth.

"Kamuy," said the King with a low growl. He stood up abruptly and started pacing back and forth behind his throne.

"Allegedly, they pleaded for assistance, while concealing their motives, and since the Luminoth are highly intelligent and empathic—"

"Was my sister with them?" Sabre rose from his seat and leaned over the table.

The King looked none too impressed, Ylva rolled her eyes, and even Hackles, who was used to Sabre's obsession, couldn't help but wonder if Sabre had started to lose his marbles like his father.

"They made no mention of Krystal." Dr Bowman met Sabre's gaze with a blank face, neither sympathetic nor condoning. "The Luminoth revealed that the visitors were looking for my home system. While the Vixon and especially their Matriarch considered me inferior to their race, Kamuy took quite an interest in my brilliant master's inventions and knowledge during the time I spent with them."

"I understand how you must feel about that, Dr Bowman." The King approached the table and spoke in a soft voice. "While it's unfortunate for you that you got lost in your voyages across the wormhole network, on behalf of the Wolven people, let me express how grateful we are for your services and expertise. In return, we will map out the network and help you find a way back to Lylat."

"Thank you, Sire." The vixen did another curtsy before leaving the circle, returning to a seat in the second row.

The King turned around and gazed at the screens with his hands on his back. Nyheim was on Jotunn's day side, casting a small shadow on the gas giant's surface. Another moon emerged from behind the planet, illuminated by the red glow of Beta Kandesca as it rose above the horizon.

"Well, this is as good a full moon as any," the King mused.

The hair on Hackles' neck stood on end, not from fear or anger, but excitement. Full moons were the traditional time for ceremonies. The King turned around, took a step forward and locked onto Hackles' gaze.

"Squire Steen," he commanded. "Step forward."

With his back straight, Hackles walked to the nearest aisle and down towards the round table, doing his best not to move a facial muscle, while butterflies fluttered in his stomach. He knew what was coming. He stepped through the opening in the table, stopped just inside the circle and stood to attention.

"Sabre has only praise for you." Another section of the table parted for the King as he strode into the centre.

"He is much too kind," said Hackles with his head bowed.

"Ah, and he speaks of your modesty as well. However, I don't care much for words." The King picked up a data pad laying on the table and glanced at it briefly before putting it down. "What I care for is how you've passed your tests with distinction, and perform your duties with discipline and dignity. It brings me great joy to bestow upon you the honour of… knighthood."

Hackles wanted to shout out of joy, but steeled himself and dropped on one knee, putting his hands on the other. The King unsheathed his ceremonial sword and held it high for everyone to see, before dubbing Hackles on both shoulders.

"Rise, Knight Hellmar." The King stood erect, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and glint in his amber eyes betraying his stern expression.

"A knight needs a sword." Sabre stepped up next to the King, holding a scabbard in his outstretched hands. Hackles received it and secured it to his belt, before slowly drawing a large sword with straight edges and a broad black blade out of the sheath.

"But… it's…" Hackles' eyes widened.

"Yes, it was my brother's," said Sabre with a faraway look in his eyes.

Hackles' ears drooped, knowing how much the weapon meant to Sabre, whose older brother had been killed in a skirmish with the Vixon when Sabre was only ten years old.

"It's time it's put to good use. It was always a little too heavy for me anyway," Sabre continued with a crooked smile. "It has a party trick as well."

Hackles made a couple of tentative practice swings; the sword was hefty, but not too heavy for his muscular arms. He put both hands on the hilt and felt the controls under his thumbs. Pressing them, the edges of the sword began to glow, first red, then turning to a bright yellow, and he could feel the radiating heat.

"It will slice through metal like butter," Sabre explained with a smirk, the glow reflecting in his irises. "It was designed to cut through a Vixon battle staff… if you get close enough that is."

Hackles turned around and raised the blade over his head. The knights around the table rose and put a fist to their chest and the audience repeated the gesture. Hackles grinned, filled with pride. He glanced at Ylva, who mouthed something. He frowned, unable to make out what she tried to say. She rolled her eyes and repeated the silent words, 'Well, what are you waiting for?'

The penny dropped for Hackles; tradition called for one more thing, so he filled his lungs, threw his head back and let out an ear-splitting howl. The King was the first to join in, as per custom, then all the knights and finally everyone else. He thought he could make out Ylva's high-pitched cry in the audience as the news travelled along corridors and more people joined in, until the entire moon base was filled with the sound of baying.

Author's note: I found an opportunity to sneak in some cameos from fellow writers in this chapter, and very talented ones at that. Diggie (zebra), Dean (cheetah), Rymden (cat) and Scotty (fox) belong to MrMcStabson, DeltaERB, SpaceCat010 and Sheppard SD. Thespacedoge came up with Sven Schutz and his backstory including the ACI, only to take the first chapters down again, so I couldn't leave the Alsatian all dressed up with nowhere to go.