Chapter 4: Gathering Of Stars

Triford-class LTL Shuttle, Cornerian Space

"I'm Clarissa Danes, and you're listening to Corneria News Hour, your gateway to the galaxy. It's a scalding summer morning, but not quite as scalding as accusations made against Katina, following high levels of photon activity in the Bergen Rift just off their borders. CDF Officials accused Katina of using the area for weapon tests, but the Katinese Royal Family have denied such claims, calling them 'insecure delusions of canines petrified at the prospect of another planet outpacing them'. Ouch. Little bit of trash-talk from our feline friends there. This—"

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"When you introduce Orion Fur Gel to your morning routine, you'll notice the change…and so will she. Its lush sheen and powerful scent, perfect for a beach day or nightlife escapade, will make you stand out like never bef—"

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"—and what if it happens again? How many VLA attacks will it take before we finally decide to crack down? What if another violent fringe of Simmies pop up? Callers, you tell us what you think. Fifteen seconds on the air—"

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"—tune into Flash Funk FM tonight for our Midnight Raffle. That's right, you and your bestie might have a shot at dancing the night away to the dulcet tones of Zero-Gigi, live on her Saturday concert. But first, let Caleb And the Birds of Paradise sizzle your morning with their hottest single, 'Cosmic Kisses'..."

"Hey, you sure we can't switch seats?"

The Bullfrog stopped switching radio stations at the sound of his friend's voice, yanking his headphones off one ear impatiently. "Joey, I already said 'no'."

Frowning, the golden fox next to him continued to whine. "C'mon, let me have the window seat. The Academy's gonna come up on that side, and I wanna see it!"

"Well, fuck off and find someone else who wants to switch seats, then!"

The Fox blew a raspberry and stood up, trying to retain balance as the Transport Shuttle routinely bumped from a jolt of turbulence outside. He browsed the other seats, all cluttered with gossiping kids wearing the same white-and-blue Starting Year uniforms as him. He spotted another fox, this one fluffy and red, staring out the window with an empty seat beside him.

"Hey, you! Mind if we switch seats?"

Seemingly snapped out of staring aimlessly out the window, jerking around dazedly. "Hmm?"

"I was kinda hopin' to get a good view of the Orbital Academy when it turns up. D'you mind switching?"

The other Fox's face flushed, mumbling something unintelligible before slipping away, much to the Golden Fox's delight.

"Sweet, thanks, man!" He plopped down happily, pressing his snout against the window. "I cannot friggin' wait to land. D'you think they have anything cool planned for our first day?"

"Besides a bunch of first-time drills and routines?" The Bullfrog grumbled. "I doubt it. It's gonna be us versus the upper classmen all week, lemme tell you."

"I still can't believe James McCloud is going to be the one teaching us. Can you imagine what he's like? I saw an interview with him on the news last night. God, I hope he's that cool in real life."

An excited female Squirrel in the front row turned around in her seat. "Did you hear the rumor that his son's attending this year?"

The Bullfrog's green jowls wobbled in disbelief. "Get outta here. Fox McCloud, training with us?"

"Holy crap, if that's true…" The Golden Fox's eyes became huge. "Imagine if we ended up in the same class with him. Or got to fly with him. Maybe he could even teach us a few moves if we asked him, or for a ride in his Dad's Arwing…holy CRAP, that would be cool."

The Bullfrog scoffed. "Yeah, right, as if he'd hang out with the likes of us."

The Squirrel began drumming her fingers against the window, looking curious. "Y'know, it's weird… I almost forgot James had a son. He's barely in any photos or holovids."

"Y'think maybe it's a conspiracy?" asked the Fox. "That all the press about James having a son are fake, and that's why we never see him?"

The Bullfrog rolled his eyes. "You think everything's a conspiracy, Joey. Use your brain for a second: what's more likely, that he's telling the world about a fake son he doesn't have, or that maybe he's just trying to keep him out of the spotlight till he's old enough? Hell, if he's like any other galactic celebrity, he probably got him homeschooled."

"Private lessons with James McCloud…" The Golden Fox practically swooned. "Just imagine all the tricks he must've taught him. He's probably lightyears ahead of the rest of us already."

"Surely not." The Squirrel's ears twitched dubiously. "He's attending the Flight School, isn't he? He must be here to learn something. Besides, I bet he isn't a show-off. He's probably nervous, just like the rest of us."

"No way. You don't come from James McCloud of all people, and turn out some boring, normal kid," said the Bullfrog. "I bet he's larger than life, just like his dad…"

In their excited gossiping, none of them noticed how the boy who'd just given up his seat to retreat to the back row was suddenly shifting in his seat. He immediately swerved his face to the window to hide it from view, clutching the arm-rests uncomfortably. He heard one of the kids' voices spring up again.

"Hey, what if he's on this bus, right now?"

The words caused his heart to skip a beat. He looked very hard outside the window, pretending to be fixated on the gleaming ridgeline of Corneria's planetary atmosphere below. He could practically feel the other kids' eyes scanning the rows of seats, examining all the foxes on board, including him. Finally, one of them laughed dismissively.

"C'mon. Even if he was here, he wouldn't be one of these kids."

"Are you sure?" asked the Squirrel. "He's supposed to be our age."

The Bullfrog snorted. "Have you seen pictures of James McCloud at our age? The kid's probably built like a dreadnought, just like his dad was. Besides, you really think a McCloud of all people would be riding around a shuttle with a bunch of ordinary cadets? Nah. He's probably gonna be ridin' into school in an Arwing or something." He yanked his headphones back on, reiterating. "Believe me, we'll know him when we see him…I just hope we get to be the ones who run into him first."

None of them paid any mind to the red fox sitting in the back row, whose ears were drooping the longer the conversation went on.

Be careful what you wish for.

Fox had spent all morning convincing his dad to let him fly on a public shuttle, and he was already regretting it. In his head, it sounded like a nice alternative to being flown around covertly by ROB or somebody; it would be a chance to be invisible, blend in for once…maybe if he got lucky, even talk to other kids and make a few friends under the cover of anonymity. In practice, however, not only was he too shy to kick some nerve into himself to talk to anybody, but the topic of James McCloud's Mysterious Son had arisen once again, effectively forcing him to retreat to where he hoped everyone would ignore him. The last thing he needed was to start the first morning of school with more comparisons to Dad, and more expectations hauled onto his shoulders. Numerous fears and hopes about his first day at the Academy were already balling like an ache in his stomach the closer the shuttle drew to its destination. Now, listening to other kids' chatter was making it worse.

Don't think about it… He told himself. Don't think about any of it. Everyone's gonna mess up the first day, not just you. Nobody's eyes are on you yet…just keep to yourself. Fox exhaled deeply and looked out the window next to him, savoring his invisible status for as long as he could.

"Look outside, THERE!"

A huge blast of light from outside caused everyone to stop talking instantly, pressing their noses and whiskers up against the windows.

Gasps and cheering erupted from the busload of students as a cluster of Academy Training Ships tore through the starfield outside, the emerald glow of their graviton-generator cores illuminating everyone's faces. It wasn't certain if the pilots were conducting exercises, or just showing off for the shuttle, but it didn't matter to everyone onboard. They watched as the silver ships would bank and accelerate in unified formation, with starlight to racing across their reflective canopies.

"Attention, students." The Transport Bot in the driver's seat ordered in the closest tone its audio banks could replicate irritation. "Please refrain from crowding the windows and return to your seats. We are entering Academy Airspace. Fasten your seatbelts and remain stationary."

Everyone had to pry their gazes away from the sweeping ships to see that the robotic driver was right, crowding the windows and craning to get a better look.

The Orbital Academy came into view, sitting at a slight tilt and hovering above the curve of the Cornerian atmosphere. The magnificent satellite was the pride and joy of its architect, Beltino Toad, so it naturally had several nods to the architecture on his homeworld. Pearly alloys, marine-blue pylons, fin-shaped comm arrays and other commonplace staples of Aquas' undersea cities adorned its exterior. Even the structure's curved white walls that rose in a swirling formation gave it the look of an unfurling lotus, in typical Aquatian fashion. A cone of churning blue flame emanated from the pulsating reactor core that kept the structure afloat, sending out an ambient rumble that could be felt by passing ships. Past the large rotating docking ring that the Academy was encased in, Dreadnought-class cruisers were docked and being attended to by the tiny specks of OX-N robots bobbing back and forth.

The tiny shuttle made its approach, following the trail of blue neon lights to the huge plated shield doors accompanied by monstrous laser turrets.

"Shuttle 5, this is Orbital Flight Control," A canine voice on the overhead speakers demanded. "State your business and clearance code."

The immense security raised a few nervous gulps, but surprised no one. An institution as old and prestigious as the Cornerian Flight Academy prized its safe-guarded tactics and secrets…and they were staying inside its gates.

Rather than respond, the Transport Bot plugged its stubby arms into its terminal. The craft's shields pulsated gold as it was being scanned, before the overhead speak rang with a clearance chirp, and the canine voice returned.

"Clearance code checks out." Slight mirth was present in the voice. "Welcome to the Orbital Academy, rookies."

With a rumbling lurch, the huge plated shield doors slid open to reveal the containment field, a huge plasma barrier that rippled like a pool of water as the Shuttle gently passed through. But where the usual lurch of docking and hissing of airlock assembly would've happened, the shuttle kept on flying. Upon entering, it was greeted not by a bustling hangar, but a surge of white light that caused everyone to squint groggily blanketed the shuttle windows, before something dense and wispy started to gather around the shuttle upon entry…clouds, in which the ship dropped out of immediately.

The entire busload of kids expelled a collective: "WHOA…"

Through optical tricks or technology, the Academy interior looked identical to the sunlit grove of an actual planet, with green hedge-laden grounds and trees, and its own sky. Stark blue with a sunlight beaming through the clouds, the whole interior was encased in a colossal holographic cluster dome, its enormous screens stretching all around them to supplant the artificial surrounded the white Academy buildings below, while small dots walked about and relaxed under the dome's simulated first glance, the Academy looked less like a school and more like a resort—akin to those pricey Vacation Satellites stationed near metropolitan moons that simulated exotic destinations for the super-rich who were too lazy for exhaustive space travel. But the Academy's technological hoodwinking went even beyond that. It was so real, so lush and authentic that it looked like it had been plucked right out of an actual planetscape.

Fox felt his eyes expand. All the eye-popping scenery and architecture, inside a hovering space structure…it was just mind-blowing. He and everyone else aboard were glued to the windows, drinking in every inch of the interior…at least, until their awestruck attention was unceremoniously stolen by a squadron of sleek training ships soaring over the Academy grounds. They managed to rise in altitude to match the shuttle, cruising in their normal formation while all the children gawked at them.

Without a warning brake, the lead ship yanked its nose up into a somersault, making the squadron break formation and scatter like a frightened school of fish. Everyone watched as the ship swan-dived, spiraling garishly and racing towards the ground, almost colliding with its own shadow in the grass—before the daring pilot broke last-second and jettisoned back skyward.

It was clearly just showy antics, but it enraptured the onlookers. Their hearts raced at the terrifying hum of the boosters and spiraling chem trail, and erupted into cheers. The excitement in the air was contagious, practically crackling in the air. And fleetingly, it infected Fox, too.

He forgot all about his nervous reservations, and for a few precious seconds, he was just another ecstatic kid on the shuttle…staring out the window, aching to take to the skies like everyone else.


After only having just touched down on the courtyard landing platform, the dying whine of the M-Gear Training Ships' engines were immediately followed up by the loud hiss of the canopies flying open.

A Doberman pilot that was built quite thick for a teenager, yanked his helmet off and yelled hoarsely at one of the other cockpits. "You mind tellin' me when you're gonna break formation like that, Fritz? Just a second off, and that parlor trick of yours would've sent us into a mid-air collision!"

Leg dangling off the side of his ship, the other pilot, a Retriever, plucked his helmet off and let the cool air cleanse his damp forehead. For being the least athletically built of the bunch, he reaped the rewards of excellent genes: carelessly handsome eyebrows, playful brown eyes, and a smooth, sun-kissed coat that was only half as radiant as his smile.

"Would've, could've, didn't. Don't tell me that you actually got rattled by a few stunts."

Venomian Attendants with grubby jumpsuits scampered over to wash down the hulls or help each pilot down, one of which had their hand slapped away by the Doberman as he leapt off his canopy without help. "I ain't rattled by nothin', I could just use a little warning next time. You feel me? It's not like I don't know you're just showing off to the new kids."

"Ugh, for God's sake, don't be such a wet blanket all the time, Theo…you'll lose your sense of fun. It's not like you have anything else going for you…" Fritz hopped down from his ship, chucking his sweaty helmet and jacket to one of the monkeys. "Besides, think about how nervous the new kids probably are; no better way to show them what they can shoot for with enough hard training, right?" He smiled. "Or who they can aspire to be like."

Theo just snorted and started walking back, knowing better than to contest his friend's massive ego. "Whatever. Stay and 'inspire' them if you want, I'm headin' inside. Don't need to be here when Orientation starts…" His snout curled in the direction of the sky dome. "Newbie recruits will be crawling everywhere, soon…I can practically smell the green off 'em from here."

"Bitter as ever, I see," said Fritz, with a laugh. "Come on, even you have to admit that they'd be a nice change from the same old faces around here."

"Yeah, the same way a trip out the airlock would be a nice change from all that boring old oxygen. Seriously, what's to look forward to? Shower lines being longer, classroom's being more packed, Flight Training being swarmed by a bunch of wet-nosed, first-year cadets—"

"Hey, for all you know, one of those wet-nosed cadets might be the one that finally gives you a real challenge. Maybe even compete with you in the sim."

"Competition? From a rookie pilot?" He scoffed. "That'll be the fuckin' day."

The Retriever loosened his flight suit's collar as he walked, and gave a casual glance skyward.

"Don't count them out just yet, Theo. You never know who might step off one of those shuttles."


Before any of the transports could land, the shielded entrance reserved for Security Craft opened to allow a smaller, dingier ship to fly in. Underneath its rusty hull and faded paint, its metallic legs extended and allowed the ship to touch down on the landing pad stationed just outside the Academy Gates.

Wolf popped his head out, squinting his purple eyes at the surge of sunlight.

Walking out to the vast school grounds was like emerging as a Cave-Dweller all over again; everything was so spacious and elegant, a complete contrast to the confined drudgery of Juvie Hall. The school gate was wide open, and he could see pockets of the other students—chipper, clad in uniforms and all of them so different from the roguish types he'd grown accustomed to.

He was still drinking in his surroundings when he felt impatient prod of the Security Escort behind him.

Trudging off the shuttle ramp, Wolf moved quickly out the shuttle's rear door, away from any prying eyes, wincing at the tight hold of the handcuffs he was trying to hide under his uniform. The rough plop of his duffel bag followed him, along with the clunking boots of the hulking Mastiff acting as his Escort. He held up his cuffs expectantly, eyes absentmindedly drifting across the wider campus. He seized his bag the second his hands were free.

The Escort's voice stopped him sharply. "Ut-ut. Tracer Anklet?"

Wolf grimaced and yanked his trouser leg up, exposing the blinking device strapped above his boot. The Escort aimed a shrewd glance at it, seemingly unconvinced.

"Is that all?" Wolf finally asked.

"Hold it. You're not going anywhere till I check you for contraband.

Wolf groaned. "Are you kidding me? I already went through a security check back at the Facility!"

"Then you won't mind a second one." He prodded him with his unignited stun baton. "Turn and spread your arms wide, with legs apart. Now."

Of course. Nothing can ever be easy, can it? Refraining from his usual scowl, Wolf just turned and complied. Being used to this procedure from over a year in captivity didn't make it any less irritating or degrading. He felt the larger hands pat suspiciously on his crisp new Cadet's jacket and padded trousers, followed by a pause and an unconvinced growl behind him, as the Officer's hands rummaged harder.

Wolf sighed impatiently. "You gonna sniff me, too, or what?"

Suddenly, the Escort's fingers uncovered a paper carton. "Well, what do we have here? Cigarettes?"

"HEY!" Wolf whirled around and grabbed one end of the carton before the man could pull it out of reach, the two of them grappling for it. "Keep your hands off of that, those are mine!"

The Escort tightened his massive grip where Wolf's fingers held the packet. "You better let go, boy. Interfering with confiscation's a good way to get punished."

Wolf didn't relent his grip. He knew full well that this had nothing to do with protocol, and more to do with him throwing his weight around. "They aren't yours to confiscate. I'm allowed to have these."

"I didn't ask." Foul canine breath filled his nostrils as the Mastiff Escort took advantage of their isolated cover behind the shuttle to tower over Wolf threateningly. "Better watch how you decide to push me, boy. We're not at the Facility anymore, and there's no one here to write me up if I decide to teach you a lesson."

Scowling, Wolf straightened to meet his height. Guards just like this one had littered the Facility, abusing their rank to stoke their God Complex. "Is that supposed to scare me?"

"It will if you're smart." He began crushing the carton, and Wolf's fingers along with it. "Now, instead of pushing your luck, tell me what's in these. Come on, spit it out."

"…It's Cornsilk," Wolf said unflinchingly. "To help me quit. Nothing illegal."

The unlit stun baton prodded him sharply in the ribs. "Don't give me that crap. There's something more valuable in these…I know you juvie types. You expect me to believe you went through the trouble to smuggle garden herbs into school?" The man glowered at him. "Do I look stupid to you?"

"D'you really want me to answer that question?"

THUD!

The impulse spurred his tongue to say it before he could stop himself, only to regret it the second the guard pushed him against the hull of the shuttlecraft, raising his baton above Wolf's ears.

"You fat-mouthed little whelp! I'll teach you to—"

"Officer! Take your hands off of him this instant!"

The commanding voice caused both of them to turn.

A petite Fichinese girl, with cream-colored fur and looking to be just nearing twenty, turned up just behind them. She marched over wearing a very practical frock coat that that shielded her fur from the artificial breeze, with neat gloves and a very strict expression. The Mastiff didn't recognize the girl, but Wolf recognized her immediately, perplexed to see her out here of all places.

The Escort tapped his cap in her direction. "Beggin' your pardon, little lady, but you'd best not interfere here. This is a Security Matter—"

The Rabbit didn't budge. "How about you take your hands off of my foster brother, before I get someone to cuff them for you?"

That made him freeze. "Wait. Did you say…?"

"I'm Lucy Hare. My father is Peppy Hare, of the Star Fox Team…you're acquainted with him, yes?" Her voice snapped at a mile per minute. "He comes by your facility often enough."

The dog's face flushed, as he began stammering. "O-Oh. M'Sorry, miss…I mean, ma'am, I mean—" He cleared his throat, relaxing his grip on Wolf. "I was just checking to make sure the convict here wasn't smugglin' anything suspicious…"

Lucy picked up the fallen carton of cigarettes. "By 'suspicious', do you mean these? I'm not about to defend my foster brother's habits, but I'm pretty sure nicotine-free herbs aren't against school rules."

"Well, you know these juvie types, ma'am…they smuggle all kinds of stuff under the disguise of cigarettes," the Escort explained. "It could be Zonetian Ice, or Offworld Opiates. It doesn't hurt to be careful—"

Lucy's lilac eyes flashed beneath her cropped bangs. "Officer, we med students at Planetary General are trained to recognize the symptoms of substances. If my brother was on them, do you really think there's the slightest chance that I wouldn't be able to spot any?" She strode up to them, her ears barely coming up to the man's bicep. "And even if he was smuggling something, it would be for the school to deal with, not for you to bludgeon him to a pulp. You'll be lucky if I don't report this."

"B-But—" The Escort stammered.

The girl raised a silencing finger. "Now, then: I'm sure you have more pressing duties to attend to. If you'd like me to forget what I've seen, I would suggest returning to them." Her expression steeled warningly. "Good day, Officer."

There was a moment of struggle in the dog's face, clearly not used to being ordered about by someone two feet shorter than him. Disgruntledly, he released Wolf, who made a rude gesture to him on his re-entry back into the shuttle. The craft rumbled back to life and rose, draping ground in a plume of smoke as it left.

Wolf turned through the dust to see Lucy facing him, arms folded. Just the sight of her frosty glare was enough to make him grimace, knowing the verbal shredding that was incoming.

"I see that you still haven't learned not to butt in where you aren't needed," he muttered.

"And I see that you're still getting along with people like a disinfectant. Maybe wait more than five minutes before encouraging confrontations with everyone around you, hmm?"

"What're you doing here?" asked Wolf. "I thought Peppy was seeing me off."

"Time's working against him this morning. Mounting duties back on the Planetary Academy, and all that. I was making a stop here on the way to the Fichinese Science Institute, so he asked me to see you off instead. I'm not thrilled about it anymore than you are, but please make do." Her snout crinkled at the carton of cigarettes in her hand and tossed them to him. "Here. Better go through them quickly…just in case the next 'friend' you make does the smart thing and actually kills you."

He pocketed them venomously. "You could've just done nothing and let him beat me."

For once, Lucy nodded in agreement. "I absolutely could have, and with good cause. You could do with someone squeezing that head and ego down to size. I've been trying the latter for seven years, and heaven knows I haven't had any luck."

Wolf glowered at her. Still the same as ever, he thought. She'd been this way throughout their entire time growing up together. Where Peppy was somewhat lenient towards Wolf's cavedweller manners and reluctance to follow house-rules, Lucy was not. Even as a little girl, she would assert herself as a firm authority to Wolf. In her mind, she could never be too harsh or overstep her boundaries when dealing with someone so unruly, which occasionally made her tone-deaf to sensitive situations. As a result, whatever begrudging respect Wolf had for her was constantly being strained by irritation…not mostly because due to Wolf himself reaching that stage of adolescence where he was reluctant to admit being wrong, and Lucy reaching adulthood and being "too mature" to ever be wrong. Or at least admit to it.

She took his duffel bag, weighing it suspiciously. "This seems lighter than it should be. Did you pack everything that I told you?" Not waiting for an answer, she zipped it open, rummaging through. "Let's see…spare uniforms, soap, clean underwear…"

Wolf's ears singed, and he grabbed at the duffel. "Could you, like, maybe not do that here? And in a voice that doesn't alert ten other people?"

"Hmm? Oh, right. Wouldn't want that fragile teenaged reputation getting soiled on the first day." She recoiled slightly to her surroundings. "Ugh. Adolescents everywhere you look, and not one brain among them. Thank God I'll never have to study here."

He shrugged. "I'm honestly surprised you've never thought about it." He smiled cheekily. "Not afraid I'll surpass those bookworm skills of your, are you?"

Lucy looked at him flatly. "I'd expect Aquas to dry up first. No, I'll stick to my medicine and astrophysics, thank you. None of this flying business for me—I think I'll be the first of our family to keep their feet on the ground…and out of combat." Her long ears straightened attentively. "Speaking of which, I also packed the first-aid kit, and a pack of sutures. Just in case you get into another scrap."

Wolf stiffened. "No need…things are going to be different here."

Lucy raised an eyebrow skeptically. "I think you and I both know that your quarrelsome impulses won't allow for that kind of restraint."

Her words stung more than she probably intended. What was more of their usual banter for her sent a nettle of discomfort under Wolf's skin, reaching all the way to his face.

"Thanks," he muttered bitterly, looking away from her.

Lucy caught his sullen insecurity out of the corner of her eye, looking taken aback. "Oh, God…you're actually nervous, aren't you? That's not like you at all." She studied him keenly. "No, not just nervous…afraid."

Wolf lowered his voice to angry hiss. "Of course I am…why wouldn't I be?" He glanced around, breath staggering. "So much can go wrong today…"

"Flight training was always going to be hard. No one expects you to be an ace on your first day."

"It's not the training I'm worried about…it's all this." He gestured at the gossiping bushels of students dotting the grounds. "Trying to blend in with them. I'm not going to have another chance at this place if something happens…if I slip up and something like yesterday happens…"

That was when Lucy realized the anxiety-ridden dent she'd made, by saying what she'd said. "Wolf, nothing can happen that you don't let happen, be it a fight or anything else."

Wolf paled. "These days, I'm not so sure, Luce. Back at the juvie center yesterday, I was so angry…my hands were around the other kid before I even realized it was happening. Sometimes, it's so quick that I don't even feel it." He began to look sickly, fringing on panic. "The last time that happened—"

Lucy let a rare glimmer of sympathy emerge. "Stop it, Wolf. What happened with Glenn won't happen again. You're older now, more in control."

"But what if I'm not?" His eyes swarmed with panic, the threat of hyperventilation tugging on his breath. "What if I do something stupid, or another kid does, and it starts again—?"

"I won't tolerate this kind of talk from you," The Rabbit cut in. "Not today of all days. You've talked mine and everyone else's ear off about how badly you want become a pilot…and now when you're finally here, you're going to seize up like roadkill in front of the school gates, because you're too afraid of yourself?" She lowered her voice. "Look at all these other kids. Most of them are first-timers to this place, too. They don't know a thing about you, or about each other. To them, you're just another random student, right?"

Wolf tentatively agreed. "Right…"

Lucy turned his face back to look at her. "Then take advantage of that. Turn a new leaf, assume a different role for a while. Normally, I wouldn't encourage deceiving people, but throwing a curtain over your jailbird days…" She cast a wary glance at the leg of his trousers hiding his tracking anklet. "…could buy you some anonymity. Just to get by, you know? No one would have a reason to push you around, and you wouldn't need to push back."

As Wolf looked around with her, his eyes sparked with gradual enamorment. "That…could actually work."

"Just keep a low profile. Everything will be fine if you do that." She gave him a look of genuine caring. "You'll be fine. Okay?"

Letting his breathing stabilize, Wolf settled on an uncertain: "…Yeah. Okay."

He was given a satisfied nod from the young Rabbit, who returned to searching his bag. "Good. Make sure to shake off all that jitter and hesitation before you clear those gates. Papa and I didn't break our backs raising a quitter."

Briefly, Wolf found himself nudged out of his discomfort by a smile. Not just from the comfort of her words, but also because of their being something amusing about Lucy still using the word "Papa" at her age, in spite of all efforts to appear refined and mature.

She caught his look. "What are you sniggering at?"

Wolf wiped it from his face. "Nothing."

Lucy glowered at him. "For goodness' sake, act your age!" Then, her ears twitched at the sound of ship engines blaring in the distance behind her. "That'll be the freshman shuttles. The other students will be pouring out any second." She zipped his bag and handed it over.

"Then I guess this is it." He faced her expectantly.

Her expression and whiskers flattened. "Yes, it is."

They both stood there, the space between them strained by awkward silence. Not knowing what else to do, Wolf stretched out his hand in a formal fashion.

"So, I'll see you around."

For a second, looked like Lucy was going to shake it, and then her hands sprang over it to fuss over his jacket, smoothening the creases and straightening his collar.

"Now, stay on top of things while you're here. And try to keep that rebellious streak of yours in check, and don't even try to argue with the teachers—"

Wolf tried to wriggle away. "Ugh, lay off, will you? For Christ's sake…"

She ignored him. "Keep to your studies and stay healthy. I've packed an oatmeal recipe for you—the good kind, with apple and cinnamon—just give that to the cafeteria chef if you're ever feeling sick—" Her hands fished out a headset and a small device, voice frosting over. "What's this? A FREAK mixer?"

Wolf was already wincing at what was coming. "Oh, God..."

"Didn't I already tell you not to bring this?" Lucy demanded.

"Come on, I'm not entitled to a little music from time to time?"

She yanked it away. "We're sending you here to study, not to frolic around. Besides, there's enough suffering in this galaxy without you spreading your taste in music to other people."

"I'm not going to be studying all the time." He paused. "And what's wrong with my taste in music?"

"The point is, there should be no distractions for you. Not music, not lazing about, or any other teenage nonsense—I won't be having you flunk out in your first year at the Academy. How do you think it'd reflect on me, when I'm the one who taught you how to read?" She sighed exhaustedly. "And don't be expecting any special help from James or Pigma or whoever. Once you walk through that gate, they won't pretend to know you…or bail you out if you do something stupid," she added, on a brittle note.

Wolf clamped his jaw, turning from her. "Great. Are you done, or is there something else?"

Lucy glared at him for a minute, before relaxing her shoulders. "...Yes. There's one more thing." She tiptoed up to meet his towering height, and lightly kissed him on the forehead. "Be careful."

"C'mon, I'm older now…I can look after myself," said Wolf.

The Rabbit shook her head. "You're still that impulsive little cave brat that Papa found and saddled us with. You've just grown taller. And I won't be here to get you out of trouble like when we were k-kids…"

Her lilac eyes began shining, and Wolf almost thought they were tears. But Lucy cleared her throat, turning around and waving a hand near her face right as her voice was breaking.

"Ugh, I can't s-stand the synthetic air in this p-place," She squeaked. "G-Get going. And d-don't lose anything I packed for you."

The sound of her voice disarmed Wolf completely and made his biting sense of annoyance melt away. Hesitantly, he walked over and did something he and Lucy hadn't done since they were small. He stopped by the shoulder and pulled her into a hug. He felt her sniffling into his shoulder.

"You take care too, Luce. I'll miss arguing with you."

She dropped all composure to allow herself to smile, and to let tears fall to her chin.

"And I'll miss always winning."


The absolute chaos of everyone trying to get off at the same time almost cost Fox his tail.

There was no orderliness once the transport doors opened; elbows, hands, ribs and knees collided as everyone shoved their way through the tightly-knit, shoulder-to-shoulder mass of students pouring out, barely acknowledging each other outside of an unsympathetic grunt. One aimless boot almost came down on Fox's bushy plume, before he instinctively tucked it in. He scooped his tail around and clung to it gingerly as he was forced to move with the herd of students, before stumbling off the ramp and into the simulated noonday sun.

Fox hadn't been around other teenagers for very long, but so far, he didn't like them. He and the others barely had enough time to catch their breath and savor the open space, when they were greeted by a squad of older students. A ponce-looking Shiba Inu with brass shoulder bands walked the front.

"Eyes and ears over here, freshmen!" He ordered in a very poncy voice. "If you just got off the shuttle, then leave your bags where they are and start forming a nice, orderly line. Hurry up now, we haven't got all day—and have your PS-8007 Passports out. You're not setting a foot on the school lawn till you've been numbered!"

"Numbered?" A Parakeet Student asked. "What's that mean?"

The older students didn't waste time explaining, merely inspecting the students and retrieving the small, square clearance disks that Lylatian citizens used as interstellar passports from each of them, before jamming them into bulky grey handheld devices. Encrypted code flashed on their monochrome screens, prompting the older students to clamp a huge stamp-like device onto the jacket sleeves of all each confused new arrival.

The devices buzzed and hissed on their sleeves before being pried off, leaving a freshly stitched patch of the Flight Academy's gold winged crest, emblazoned with some kind of number.

"ID Matches are in order. You're Cadet 550 as of today."

"Alright, let's see here…you're Cadet 14. Move on, and no shoving—"

"—There you go, Cadet 102...hey, that was my number when I first arrived. Resume your place in the line."

Realization dawned on Fox, as he remembered his father saying something about pilots being numbers, not people, for the duration of their training. But he had no idea it would be implemented so literally, and the very second that they arrived, no less. Was it to get them used to call signs in air combat, or something?

A feverish yearning thought struck him. Could I actually make it all four years without anyone knowing my name? Oh, PLEASE let that be true…

Fox waited until he reached the front himself, where he handed in his Passport, waiting until the older student dismissively christened him "Cadet 93". Once everyone had been numbered and sorted, the Shiba addressed all of them.

"Now, then. You're gonna be escorted on the Academy Grounds by Hall Officers till we trust you to get around, so form a crowd without stepping on each other and only move when we tell you." His eyelids lowered impatiently. "And please, no wandering off…no one wants to start the year off with infractions."

His impatient pace forced them to shuffle quickly to keep up, and they followed him through the glinting gates marking the entrance to the Academy Grounds.

What awaited them was a tantalizing sight:

There wasn't a word to describe how unearthly real it all looked. Sprawling before them, the grounds were a grid of trimmed hornbeam hedges and stone-cut pathways that sprawled into a lush formal garden, all a pitch-perfect recreation of the outdoor School Grounds found on-world. It was so easy to take in the smell of grass, or the stoic oak trees lining the pavilion entrance, or the morning sun streaming through their leaves and painting the ground with dappled sunlight…and feel like all of this was on the ground, and not encased in a sky dome. The white marble Academy buildings seated beyond the garden foyer didn't look very naval or authoritarian, sporting instead a welcoming angular look, harmonized with an art deco flare that was reminiscent of Cornerian skyscrapers. Some aspects of it seemed older, like the massive, cathedral-like glass dome that flashed in the sunlight. Sprouting above it was a magnificent pair of brise soleil wings, made up rows of steel fins strung together on steel wire, looking like it was about to take flight from the roof. Somehow, the students littering the lawn were ignoring their lustrous surroundings, dozing off on the grass or with their noses buried in textbook pads. Just before the steps leading up to the Main Academy Foyer sat an elegant fountain with a jaw-dropping golden sculpture of a starship, tilted towards the sky between chortling plumes of water. Littered around it were holographic displays hovered in front of the stairway up to the main foyer, flashing "WELCOME NEW RECRUITS" in garish colors, blaring the uplifting anthem that the Cornerian Defense Force used in all their abrasive propaganda.

The new arrivals traveled in a whispering group, soaking in the architecture and ships flying overhead, until something else entered their field of view and brought them to a stop.

They all craned their necks up to take in the staple ornament of the Academy grounds—an ensemble of four colossal statues that towered over the surrounding grounds and school buildings. Chiseled from marble that flashed blindingly-white in the sun, they depicted four people: pilots from across the long annals of galactic history, the sole four whose talents and feats of leadership had earned both them and their squadrons the title of "Star"—the ultimate stamp of recognition for prowess of the skies. They stood side by side, each a visual snapshot of the era in which they had fought.
…Ziio, Leader of Star Hawk, the chronological first of the statues, sporting a wild plume of feathers and a defiant scowl on his beak, along with the most primitive garb of the Four: the archaic beads and flamboyant cloak draped over his shoulders characteristic of the pilots who had fought in the Interstellar Conflict eons ago, at the dawn of civilization…
…Selma Murciélago, Leader of Star Bat, wearing a jumbled mess of scavenged armor from her space pirate exploits in wild space, a hand on her hip and the other brushing away her long bangs to flash an eternally-cheeky smile... …Charlize Halloway of Star Coyote, the only canine of the Four, a bronze helmet from Corneria's Steam Age tucked under one arm and a beautiful face housing a soft, sullen look that gazed ever onward to the horizon…
…And James McCloud of Star Fox, wearing his distinctly modern pilot's jacket and a daring smile from the days before his rugged and grey features had settled in. The bold, heroic effigy caused James mostly embarrassment as an Instructor, and allegedly was something he still didn't approve of to this day.

All of the newly-arrived children gawked up at the figures they knew from urban stories and dramatized holovid movies. The Four Galactic Champions were revered almost religiously in popular myth as the unsurpassable titans of Lylat's long history of flight. The world had never borne witness to a greater set of pilots and would likely never see any as great again.

But much to everyone's disappointment, the Student Officers wouldn't let them drink in for more than a few seconds. "All of you gather in front of the Academy steps! Quickly, now! One of our Senior Flight Advisors has some choice words for all you rookie cadets!"

"Senior Flight Advisors?" whispered one of the new cadets. "Wait a sec…is one of the Star Fox pilots gonna welcome us in?"

The Shiba's impatient bark eliminated any further gossip. "Hurry up, we're losing time! Pick up the pace and form up!"


"You want me to give the orientation speech? Have you lost your goddamn mind?!"

"Shhhh! Language, Pigma—the kids are gonna hear you!"

The school's Chief Mechanic, an exceptionally plump racoon dog named Yarufumi de Pon, walked alongside Pigma and tried to keep his whiskey-addled voice from making the students in the hallway jump. A lack of coffee and being forced to be up this early had already put Pigma in a rancid mood, now compounded by more bad news.

"Listen, get back on the comm. with James, and whatever's holding him up, tell him to cancel it. He's the one who gives the speech to the new kids every year, not me."

Yaru waddled beside him frantically. "He's in a meeting with Cornerian High Command down at the capital! That's not something to 'cancel', and you know it."

Pigma groaned. Even when he wasn't on a mission, it seemed like the Cornerian government was finding new ways to make his life harder.

"Look, he's running late and isn't going to make it back in time," said Yaru. "Nothin' we can do about that. He isn't here, and Peppy's back on the planetary campus. That leaves you." His ears folded pleadingly.

Pigma scowled. "When I said I'd chip in around here, I didn't mean this. Yellin' at these kids during Flight Training, I can do…maybe even go a whole day without swearing at them. That's reasonable. But you tellin' me to go out there and play Den Mother for a bunch of them is where I draw the line."

"No one's asking you to tuck them in. C'mon, these new cadets are nervous…a few words of encouragement from the Star Fox Team will probably mean the world to them, no matter which Member they get it from."

"They'll probably appreciate it more from the Member that won't scare them." He half-earnestly looked to the side. "Can't…you just go out there for me, or something?"

He immediately regretted it, watching as the Racoon Dog's eyes bulged in panic. "Wha—Me?! I just fix starship engines, I don't know anything about public speaking! And I'm terrible with crowds—" He started wringing his green cap in his hands, shrinking timidly into the layers of fur around his neck. "Please don't make me go out there, Pigma."

"Cool your thrusters…I wasn't being serious." Pigma peered through the glass of the autodoors out into the sunlit grounds, where the students were gathered in front of the golden fountain. Somewhere in his jaded scowl, there was a warm twinge of nostalgia. Phew…look how freakin' young they are. Can't believe that used to be me n' Peppy out on that lawn. Cripes, that was ages ago… He sighed reluctantly. "...Those two Wingmates of mine better be grateful for this."

Yaru's shoulders collapsed in relief. "So, you'll do it?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." The Hog growled punched the door switch, squinting at the stream of morning light. "Just don't expect anything fancy. If I was the smooth talker of the Team, it would be me buttering up those suits at High Command, not James."

"No one's expecting you to talk like General Pepper out there." He splayed his hands encouragingly. "They're only kids. Just…be honest with them, y'know? They'll probably appreciate that."

The slightest smirk played on Pigma's lip as he walked out. Clearly, the Racoon Dog didn't know him well enough.
"Honest…right."


After receiving his cadet number and pestered to some secluded spot where he had to prove yet again that his tracking anklet was still attached to him, Wolf began maneuvering the crowd.

He would glance up at the collage of faces passing him by, and feel his stomach tighten. The same youthful, unassuming faces were everywhere in sight, some bored-looking, some carefree, some tired, some chattering excitedly...

Just take it easy...relax. Nobody knows you here, or where you're from...nothing. He exhaled. Just be nice if someone talks to you, blend in...everything will be fine…

Gradually, he noticed how everyone would tilt their gazes up as he walked past, which made his fur prickle self-consciously as he began noticing how gargantuanly-tall he was in this new crowd. It wasn't such a big deal back at the juvie facility, but here he probably stuck out like an overgrown weed among them. He hurriedly lowered his head, when his sloping gaze noticed the grass around his feet being swallowed by the shadow of something taller towering over him.

He looked up to find the marble statue of James smiling overhead. Other new students coming off the transport were drawn to it almost magnetically, faces lighting up in excitement. Wolf, however, didn't share their enthusiasm. Not when the mere sight of him was enough to revive memories of their last interaction.

Hmph. Look at the way they all gawk at him. Wonder how much they'd worship him if they knew what he was really like.

Wolf felt the burning resentment singeing his face, before it subsided. The fact that he almost exclusively associated James with disgust said a lot about the impact he'd left…but the speed in which Wolf dismissed him said a lot about himself, too.

Maybe I'm being too hard on him. Peppy said nothing would change between us if we both keep going at it with each other...

Determined, Wolf straightened up. He needed to at least try to repair things, even if he was the only one making the effort. I'll make things right between the two of us. I've changed a lot since I last saw him…

Maybe he has, too…

"ALRIGHT, EYES FRONT AND CHINS UP!"

The ear-puncturing sound of the familiar voice tore across the lawn from the main Academy foyer, startling all of the new students and sending them into a scramble to form an assembly line of rigid postures.

Pigma marched down the foyer steps, surrounded by Hall Officers and Upperclass Pilots locked in stiff salutes. Recognition swarmed the new arrivals, but they were too intimidated to break into whispering again.

The Hog scowled under the blaze of the artificial sun, observing the crowd of fresh-faced students. Without clearing his throat, he resumed shouting.

"Right then! Freshman Cadet Class of '89! My name is Pigma Dengar, ex-Lieutenant of the CDF's Paratroopers' Division, ex-Havoc of the 9th Starborne Winged Raiders, and present Wingman of the Star Fox Team." He clamped his hands behind him. "But my years of service are long behind me, and you wet-nosed little brats haven't earned a modicum of respect to call me anything other than 'sir'. So, tell me, newbies…what am I?"

The long reach of his savage voice made every Cadet blurt it out. "SIR!"

Amidst the line of shrinking shoulders, Wolf suppressed a grin. That's Pigma alright…

The Hog grunted in approval. "You learn quick…and you better keep it up, 'cause I and the rest of Academy Faculty plan on making these the hardest, bone-breaking four years of your flowery teenaged lives. The Cornerian government was mighty gracious to supply us with our largest influx of students yet, because that means I get to double my efforts in squeezing every last ounce of misery outta you."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the steady spread of stunned and worried across the crowd and stopped.

"I can see you're all shocked. 'How can he talk like that? He's supposed to be a Member of Star Fox!' Well, while I'm up here, I might as well dispel a few fantasies some of you may be entertaining. See, some of you might've gotten giddy at the prospect of training under us because we're the Star Fox Team." His beady eyes darted to the ensemble of statues. "Hell, I bet half of you spent a good minute star-struck in front of James over there."

Wolf instantly made a face. Not all of us.

"Let me be the first of the Team to tell you…this ain't a celebrity meet up. And the higher-ups at Cornerian High Command didn't hire us to do meet-n'-greets or hand out autographs, they put us here to mold you into aces, top filers. To make you excel on every front." He jabbed a gloved finger at them. "To do that, we're gonna push you in ways your parents n' parole officers were too weak to do. We'll bend you till your bones break, stew your frustration to a boilin' point, fill you with a resentment that could kill. Believe me when I say that we ain't gonna be your childhood heroes for long. In fact, by the time your training's finished, you'll probably hate us."

A deathly silence gripped the crowd. In mere seconds, Pigma had managed to make the sterling white Academy buildings and lush grass suddenly lose their luster. Nervous gulps emerged from the stiff line of new recruits.

"Now, I understand some of you—no, most of you, will object to the way the staff and I get the best performance out of you. Well, lemme tell you something: the only lenience we offer is the freedom to walk out the second you can't cope with what's asked of you. Plenty can't. You wanna join 'em? There's the gate."

Everyone in the crowd kept their faces lowered, and didn't move. Pigma studied them briefly, before continuing.

"The second you walked through that gate, you forfeited the luxury of complaining. You aren't facing anything generations of pilots before you didn't have to face themselves: every one of them started out where you are now, with only two things in hand: an equal chance to excel, and a cadet number."

The crowd collectively jerked back as he turned briskly to face them.

"That's all you are within these walls—a number. That's where your identity starts and ends, as it did with me. When I was standing where you stand now, I was just Cadet 078. No 'son of Caleb Dengar', no farmer's son from Dorisa XII, none of that...just Cadet 78. But in just a few short years, I wasn't 'Cadet 78' anymore...I was Pigma Dengar, Ace Pilot of the CDF's 144th Space Borne Battalion!" Everyone's eyes were locked on him as he elevated himself up the first few marble steps of the school, his voice ringing across the lawn. "Today you're all numbers. But you'll all have the chance to reforge your names...to reforge yourselves! To grow to your fullest potentials, and achieve the same glory as those pilots immortalized over there…" His finger went to the statues. "…or maybe even higher. We'll give you the wings to do it…but you have to reach those heights yourself!"

The nervous looks began to falter and evaporate. The warmth and enthusiasm returned to the air, and even Wolf couldn't suppress an emboldened smile at the Senior Pilot's words. Pigma gave them all a tight-lipped, approving nod.

"And you will, Cadets." He jerked a thumb behind him. "Now get goin' and make somethin' of yourselves!"

The students, embued with far more enthusiasm in their bellies, tightened formation and threw up a collective wave of salutes, letting out a determined roar: "SIR, YES, SIR!"


However pristine and stoic the Academy might have appeared on the outside, its interior told a very different story. While the halls housed the same marble columns and splendid furnishings, the air of elegance was rudely interrupted by one major thing.

And that was the students themselves.

The stiff naval dress was just about the only thing formal or organized about the wash of teenagers lounging in the hallway. It seemed like they had worked exhaustively to exploit the Academy Dress Code any way they could without violating it: Provocative furstyles ran the gambit from unkept mullets to high-volume perms. Jewelry and studded wristbands poked out from under rolled-up sleeves. Lips, beaks and ears saw all manner of piercings. Some students talked idly while waiting for classes to resume, while others whispered behind the seclusion of an open locker. And of course, as was trendy with most teenagers these days, more than a few of them were using the curtain of their open lockers to have a quick cigarette, funneling fumes into the metal cubicles.

None of their bored faces shared the same enthusiasm infecting the newly arrived students outside. Most of them had that jaded, unimpressed disposition that only adolescence was capable of producing.

Just as they were walking by, the sound of a loud male voice cutting above the surrounding gossip, turning multiple heads. A Dalmatian Hall Officer was arguing with a pair of new cadets, his voice getting louder and his patience disintegrating.

"For the final time," he said, pointing at his module. "You and your friend can't receive your numbers if you aren't listed.

The cadet he was talking to, an inky feline girl, pressed him pleadingly. "That can't be right. We should be in the registry...are you sure you entered us correctly? Cadets 121 and 124, from Lorraine's Group Home For Children…" She fished out a crinkled paper. "I have a note from the Orphanage, we—"

He pushed her off. "It doesn't matter what you have. Those Cadet numbers are nowhere to be found, so you can't set foot in here."

The tall Avian accompanying her, voice spiking aggressively. "Look, there must be a glitch in the system, or something! We didn't come all this way to get turned down before we set foot in a damn classroom!"

"If you're not in the system, you're not in the system," The Dalmatian said. "You're lucky you made it past the front gate. I'll need to escort you both to Security."

"No, please—it has to be a mistake! There must be someone else who can—" The feline frantically started searching the hall around her for help, and her eyes found someone in a high-ranking uniform walking by. "Excuse me, sir, something's gone wrong our placement in the registry. I have no idea what—o-oh. Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

Her meek voice retreated immediately, having failed to realize that she had addressed Pigma as he'd been casually walking by. She stammered and fell into intimidated silence, but the Ace Pilot simply raised a curious eyebrow at the Dalmatian behind them.

"Everything alright here, Frank?"

The Hall Officer straightened alertly. "Just dealing with a minor security issue, Commander, nothing I can't handle."

"Please, Mr. Dengar…er, I mean, Commander," Seeing her chance, the girl approached him desperately. "We're supposed to be in the registry, under Monroe, and Lombardi—I mean, Cadets 121 and 124—" She was stepping over herself in a constant fluster, sounding like her whole day had been one frantic ordeal of mishaps and misunderstandings. "But for some reason, we aren't entered in, I-I have no idea how. I…we…" She took her companion's hand for emphasis. "…came from the Lorraine Group Home in Downtown Corneria City. We're here on the Impoverished Recruitment Program, but for some reason—"

The Hall Officer cut in. "I've tried telling them that it would be a reckless breach of school safety to let unnumbered students walk about as they please. I was about to let Security handle them, but they're refusing to comply… quite loudly and disruptively, I might add." He aimed a warning look at the girl.

Consulting the monochrome screen, Pigma tapped his multiple chins. "Hmm...it's true, seems neither of you are on the list. It's possible the registry's acting finnicky again with updating the student list. Happens sometimes when an influx of students come in on short notice."

Color returned to the girl's face. "Could you please double-check? If you only knew the hassle it was just to get here. Doing all the necessary paperwork, begging the Group Home to let us shuttle here by ourselves…please, sir, if we can't—"

Her tall Avian friend impatiently held her back. "Stop pestering him, will ya, Katt?" He looked up with an apologetic weariness. "Look, sir, you're probably busy…we'll just wait outside until you can get to us."

Whether it was the lack of coffee, or the sheer desperation in their faces, Pigma uncharacteristically felt the urge to help them. "It's no trouble at all. Frank, why don't you leave these two to me? Security's my division anyway…I can double check to see if they're on the main computer."

"It's your call, sir."

"Hmm." He beckoned the two. "C'mon, kids...my office is this way."

As the worried pair followed him, the Dalmatian yelled at a pair of osprey students running in the halls. All of the student bystanders who had hastily put out their cigarettes upon Pigma's arrival waited for him to leave, before opening their lockers and re-igniting new ones. Lost in boredom and smoke, they continued lounging as more students poured in from the outside.

At least, until Fritz and his entourage walked in from one of the bathrooms, the mere glint of his gold coat enough to get everyone to stop talking and straighten up. They began moving out of his path in the same attentive fashion as a crew would for the captain on a starship. From the sound of it, he seemed to be riding high on morning gossip, and in an unbelievably good mood that no one would dare disrupt.

"…I swear, I heard the same thing. Juvie Facilities, like real ones. That's where some of these new kids are flying in from." He smiled with the same playful recoil of a boy discovering a particularly-disgusting insect in his yard. "Can you believe that? I guess orphanages and foster homes weren't 'rock-bottom' enough."

Theo's sharp black ears flicked as he looked around. "There's no way. You're telling me half of these dinky little freshmen are cell rats?"

"That's the juicy rumor. Someone up top must be really desperate to be taking recruits from anywhere."

"Or they have a fucking screw loose," The Doberman grunted. "What makes them think a bunch of would-be felons make for good squadron material? Are they gonna start letting robots pilot starships next? Simmies?" He and the others laughed.

"The real crime is if they only let in the male delinquents," Fritz pined. "Think of how much it would suck if we opened our gates to the dregs of society, only for no juvie girls to show up."

Theo raised an eyebrow. "You make it sound like there'd be some kind of loss there."

Folding his arms behind his head, Fritz smiled recklessly. "Why not? Just imagine that kind of girl walking these halls: the absolute picture of degeneracy, covered in tattoos, going through misdemeanors like you or I go through a pack of gum…even you have to admit that would make for a good time."

His friend didn't share his enthusiasm. "Only if having the smell of trash rub off on you is your idea of fun. Besides, what happened to you and, uh—what's-her-name from Terrain Basics? I thought you two were a thing."

"Tsk, there's your problem, Theo." Fritz clicked his tongue, surveying the room. "You're thinking in the short-term. Sure, Daisy's a nice girl, and we've had some fun, but what if a more exciting option appears? If you only settle for what's in front of you, you'll never—"

His tirade was interrupted when a fox slightly shorter than him with his eyes glued to his schedule rammed clumsily into his shoulder, almost stumbling back himself.

"Whoa—sorry, sorry, I didn't see you—"

Shoulder ringing and uniform crinkled, Fritz let out an agitated exhale through gritted teeth.

The fox's apologetic look suddenly became one of timid relief. "Actually, I was hoping one of you fellas could tell me which way Room 401 is? I'm kinda lost, and—"

"Maybe if you saw where you were running, maybe you'd see that we're lacking a certain band on our uniforms? The one for Hall Officers?" Fritz seethed frostily, a glare fouling up his carefree composure.

The boy's look of relief melted. "O-Oh, I guess—I just thought—"

The monstrously-tall Doberman snatched him by the collar of his jacket. "He asked you a question, shrimp. Do we look like Hall Officers to you?" He curled his lip above his teeth. "Or does that head of yours only get any use when someone beats it in?"

His lime-green eyes widened in terror. "W-Wait, no! I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"

Fritz groaned and waved an irritable hand. "Hands off, Theo…it's too early in the day for a scrap. Just let one of the others handle it. Barney! Do something about this, will you?" He called over the Shiba Inu monitoring the other students. "You're supposed to be keeping a leash on all these new students, not letting them come up and talk to us."

The Hall Officer raced over, face flushed. "I'm doing my best, Fritz. These kids are swarming the halls, I can barely deal with all of them!"

"Just take care of it."

Before the Fox could say or do anything, the Junior Officer gave him a rough shove. "Alright, beat it, Cadet! Find someone else to bother, before I write you up and send you to class with an infraction. Move!

Confused, the meek student made a shuffling away in silent compliance, while the Shiba continued to apologize profusely.

"I'm really sorry about this Fritz. I swear, it won't happen again—"

Having already turned to walk off, Fritz rolled his eyes and let the sound of his groveling disappear behind him, with his friends following suit. He, Theo and the others resumed their stroll and their bored, idle chatter. He kept a non-committed role in the gossip, but for some reason, his thoughts were occupied by the look of fear on that younger boy's face. That nervous expression riddled with discomfort…plastered on a set of features that were oddly familiar. Almost reminiscent of…

He stopped mid-stroll when the realization hit him. By the time he had whirled around, the boy had already vanished into the gaggle of new students.

The static boredom in Fritz's eyes evaporated, becoming sharp and attentive as he let his gossiping friends disappear into the crowded hall without him. He'd seen that kid somewhere before…he knew it. His first instinct was to look around to ensure no one had made the same discovery. Then he quickly pulled the Shiba Hall Officer back over.

"Barney, c'mere. That kid, just now…who was he?" He asked, voice lowered.

"Him?" The Shiba looked in the direction the fox had disappeared to. "Beats me. Just another nameless minnow rolling in on the new tide of students…they all look the same to me." He gave him an odd look. "Why?"

Fritz's eyes remained locked in the same direction, suddenly awash in a feverish, almost hungry look. "Find out who he is. Now."

"Now? He's probably in class by now, Fritz, I can't just march in and—

"Make a way in. Go!"

Confused, the Shiba scampered off, leaving Fritz to stand there, completely shaken out of the morning mundanity that was lulling everyone off to class around him. His mind was still racing at the possibility of what he'd just seen…and even more excited by the prospect of him being the only to make the discovery.

He felt an eager smile emerging on his face.

I should be thanking you, James… He thought. You've just made this new semester much, much more exciting…