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"Night Wolf, this is Great Fox, you're cleared to launch."

"Acknowledged, Great Fox. Night Wolf heading out."

Lance sat in the cockpit of his new Mk2 Arwing, focusing on his breathing in order to quell the surging excitement that was rushing through his body like a raging river. Having been cleared for launch, the black wolf moved the limiter forward to seventy percent, and then gently pressed down on the 'go' pedal. In a heart beat, the fighter craft was out of the launch bay and rapidly pulling away from the Great Fox itself. Although the simulation Arwing had been modified to mimic the performance of the Mk2 Arwing, the real thing was still an awe inspiring and overwhelming force of power. For a moment, Lance felt as though he was floating. He couldn't quite tell if it was his excitement, or the effects of the craft he was sitting in, but it felt almost blissful.

"Good luck, Night Wolf."

Lance's mind was too swept up in the moment to hear the last words of the female voice speaking to him from the Great Fox's flight control station. Absorbed by the rush from finally being where he wanted to be, behind the controls of a fighter craft he could pilot in his own way, Lance couldn't resist getting a feel for the Mk2's handling before getting to his destination. With a light tilt of the joystick in his right hand, Lance made the Arwing roll to the left until it was in a vertical position. A moment later, he pulled the stick back, making the nose of the craft lift so that it banked left while its pilot pressed firmly on the accelerator, resulting in a high-G left turn. With the upgraded G-Diffusers, Lance barely even noticed the gravitational forces that would've squashed a pilot in any other fighter craft. He rolled and banked and looped and spiraled, only catching himself when a second female voice spoke into his ear.

"Night Wolf, this is Tamara, do you copy?"

"Huh? Oh, yes. This is Night Wolf," Lance replied, a little caught off guard, "I copy."

"I'll be your handler from this point on, Lance," Tamara continued.

"Good to have you with me, Tamara," the excited wolf greeted.

In the military, fighter pilots were often grouped into small squads that flew together, working and co-ordinating their efforts as a team. But pilots under Krystal's employ were deployed and expected to act in the field as a solo entity. Although it was rare for less than two of her mercenaries to be assigned to any one job, her entire operation was built around the principal that a solo pilot could work better without the need to rely on others that may not be able to provide assistance when it was required. Krystal believed that while a team could most certainly be a force to be reckoned with, teamwork had one critical flaw; if just one part of that team is taken out, the entire team structure can become dangerously compromised, drastically reducing overall effectiveness.

However, a lone combatant could not hope to engage numerous opponents and be victorious without the obvious advantages afforded by a full team; compensation would be needed to balance out what was sacrificed. So Krystal ensured that her pilots would not enter combat without adequate protection and fire-power to ensure their survivability, nor alone. Each of Krystal's mercenaries were assigned a handler, a counterpart that would remain aboard the Great Fox and serve as a personal connection back to home base, relaying vital information critical to the mission as well as monitoring the physical well-being of that pilot and their ship. On top of that, The Great Fox housed dedicated sensor arrays specially designed for monitoring engagements and feeding detailed, real-time information to the on-board systems of each pilot's Arwing to aid them in combat.

Lance finally settled beside the larger, more advanced design of the Mk3 Arwing Ruby was flying. Unlike his own craft, that had a simple white and blue paint-job, Ruby's Arwing was almost entirely black, except for a white nose and silver streaks flaring off the front of the canopy and down the length of the wings. On one side of the nose could be seen the painted image of a dark sunset with a single silver streak racing above the horizon, symbolising Ruby's call-sign, Silver Streak.

"You ready to do this?" Ruby checked in, his voice coming through the speakers just behind Lance's cockpit seat.

"About as ready as I can be," Lance replied, his own voice betraying a mixture of excitement and nervousness. The black wolf had spent a great deal of time flying, both in an actual fighter craft and simulations, but this was the first time he would be entering a real combat situation.

"Then let's go."

With those words, Ruby's craft rolled to the side and banked, heading down into the atmosphere of the planet they were above. Lance followed, the cocktail of emotions churning inside him making him feel almost detached from reality, as if it wasn't really happening. They made their way through a thick cover of clouds and emerged above what appeared to be an isolated collection of small, mostly flat, tropical islands. Across the dotting of landmasses amid a wide, blue ocean, three long rails could be seen, each with large structures at one end while the opposite end sloped upwards, aiming towards the sky. Mass drivers.

"Remember, kid, no heroics. We're here to do a job, nothing more. Stay focused on your objectives and don't get shot down," Ruby's voice cut into the silence of Lance's mind. That, and seeing the landmark below, was like a peg being hammered into the ground, tethering Lance to reality. This was happening. It was real. He needed to focus.

Pushing his emotions down, Lance breathed deep and steady. He looked all around, seeing little in the way of anything that could be determined as the mainland. If he was shot down, chances were high he'd be going for a swim. On the islands below, small dots could be seen milling around the structures at the far end of the mass drivers. Boarding stations of some kind, no doubt.

"Kid? Lance!" Ruby's stern voice once more demanded the wolf's attention and he realised that he hadn't responded to Ruby's last comment.

"Right. I got it," Lance acknowledged.

"This is an evacuation operation," Tamara's voice then stated, "Friendly forces are attempting to evac civilians and other non-military personnel. Intelligence reports that hostile forces are currently inbound with intent to interrupt these proceedings. You're objective is to engage targets and prevent damage to the mass drivers and craft attempting to depart via them. Understood?"

"Understood, Great Fox. Prevent damage to mass drivers and departing craft," Lance repeated.

"Syncing R.T.A. with on-board systems. Hostiles approximately two minutes out. Good luck, Night Wolf."

Lance entered a command on the small keyboard inside the cockpit and watched as the interior lit up with a myriad of lights and shapes. The canopy itself served as a digital screen, displaying various readouts such as velocity, elevation, direction, and more. Numerous shapes could also be seen, with dynamic numbers attached and appearing to move with objects outside. These shapes were 'Friend or Foe' indicators and moved across the canopy in relation to objects of interest such as structures, destinations and other craft, allowing the pilot to easily identify targets along with their range, speed, and any other important information.

Along with the detailed canopy display, directly in front of Lance was what appeared to be a large, metal bowl. This was called the H.T.P.D, or Holographic Tactical Positioning Display. Pilots also referred to it as the 'HotPad'. Little more than a glorified map, it showed a 3D image of the immediate area surrounding the Arwing, providing an 'at-a-glance' 3rdperson view of every direction. Terrain was shown using a 3D dot matrix and moved in relation to the Arwing's position, which was indicated by a small, white sphere located above the centre of the HotPad. Surrounding this sphere were thin, white rings, indicating ranges of twenty-five, fifty, one-hundred and two-hundred meters. Other objects of interest were also shown, indicated by spheres or cubes, depending on whether or not it was air or ground based, and "connected" to the horizontal range finder by a vertical line, providing a quick and accurate reference for position of just about everything within the immediate vicinity of the mercenary's location.

It wasn't long before one side of Lance's canopy lit up with a large number of small, red squares indicating hostile targets. At a glance, the wolf could tell that they were approaching fast, as indicated by the rapidly decreasing number on each target's range.

"Should we go say hello?" Ruby asked, a slight tone in his voice that suggested a smirk on his face.

"After you," Lance replied.

Ruby's larger Arwing started towards the incoming targets and Lance followed. Flying out to meet them only closed the gap faster, and before long, Lance found himself amid a full scale dogfight. Behind the two mercenaries, numerous friendly fighters launched from the islands to fight as well, but there were too few of them to have been able to successfully hold off the enemy forces. If not for Ruby and Lance, the local forces would've been overwhelmed.

Just as Ruby had told him, Lance focused his attention on shooting down targets. One by one, he picked them out, homing in and firing his cannons before moving on to the next. He was precise, methodical, and fast. Every so often, the black wolf would check in the direction of the mass drivers, ever vigilant of any enemy craft that might slip away from the chaos. The blue hyper lasers of the Mk2 Arwing made short work of most enemy craft, taking only two or three hits before they spiralled down towards the ocean below. Sometimes they would get lucky and last a few seconds longer. Other times they'd just erupt into a ball of flame and blackened debris. Meanwhile, the enemy fighter craft had a very difficult time lining up any shots on Lance; his flying was unpredictable and his own craft exceedingly agile. Most shots that_were_ fired at him missed, and those that hit were absorbed by the shields, depleting them by only a marginal amount that regenerated in no time.

But as the newest member of Krystal's mercenaries continued to fight, the excitement he'd felt before seemed to fade. It was like a dream come true, at first; Lance could fly and fight as he saw fit, without needing to co-ordinate his movements with others. He was free. But at the same time, something was off, something wasn't quite right. Every shot he fired, every craft that went down by his hands, was another life ended. Of course, Lance had been under no illusion that this was part of the job he'd signed up for, but he'd never actually stopped to think about it, that this was the job. In the back Lance's mind, doubt began to stir. Not in what he was doing, but why. Doubt in his decision to be doing it. Was money really a valid reason to kill so senselessly?

"Lance, a couple of targets are making a break for the mass drivers," Tamara's voice suddenly said.

Looking in the direction of the mass drivers, Lance quickly spotted three targets skimming along the water's surface, kicking up significant spray from the ocean just a couple of meters beneath them.

"On it," Lance replied.

The black wolf rolled his Arwing to the side and banked until the nose was pointed in the same direction the three runaway fighters were heading. Levelling out, Lance pushed down on the accelerator pedal until it pressed against the floor, making the Arwing's engines propel the craft forward at an astonishing velocity. It took only a few seconds for Lance to catch up to the three rogue craft and as he closed in on them he tilted down just a little, coming in on top of them.

Easing off the accelerator once more, the wolf matched the speed of the enemy craft and settled over the middle one. Slow and steady, he dropped his altitude and the other two fighters could only break off to the sides as their fellow pilot vanished into the water. They circled back around, trying to come up behind Lance, but he saw their movements on the HotPad and lifted his foot off the accelerator pedal completely, putting the engines into a state of idle. While the advanced G-diffuser helped maintain the Arwing's vector and velocity, Lance pulled back on the stick, lifting the Arwing's nose to point upward, before pushing down on the accelerator once more. In an instant, the larger fighter craft shot straight up into the air. But Lance kept his foot pressed down for only a moment before lifting it up for a second time. And again, the Arwing's vector and velocity were maintained by the G-diffuser systems while the Arwing's pilot continued to pitch the craft, tilting the nose back and then down, bringing the two remaining enemy craft into the firing line.

The whole manoeuvre was a bastardised version of a loop, performed under momentum generated from the short burst of acceleration just moments earlier. But before that momentum carried Lance upwards too far, he pushed down on the accelerator once more and sent his Mk2 Arwing into a nose dive. It took only a second or two to line up a shot on one of the two remaining enemy craft. And after a few hits from the blue hyper lasers, it turned into a fiery ball that soon splashed down into the ocean. The last remaining craft attempted to flee, but it too joined its fellow craft in the water shortly thereafter.

"Hostile forces have been reduced to thirty percent and remaining targets are retreating," Tamara informed. "The evacuation is still under way, however, so you'll need to remain on hand until all evacuating craft are clear. There appears to be no sign of hostile reinforcements."

"Copy that, Tamara," Lance replied.

While amidst the chaos of the battle, the adrenaline kept Lance's feelings in check. Even with his far superior craft, getting distracted could still have resulted in his own demise. But with the immediate threat now gone, the wolf's emotions started to gnaw at him, and as his stomach began to turn, the consequences of his actions weighed on his mind.

Lance tried not to think about what he'd just done, tried to focus as he shifted the limiter to forty percent and began a lazy patrol around the mass drivers. He kept a wide berth, making sure to stay clear of the evacuating craft and landing fighters. Further out, bits of metal littered the gentle waves of the ocean. Small fires could be seen here and there, where some parts of debris still burned while floating on the water's surface.

"How are you feeling, kid?" Ruby's voice asked as the collie's Mk3 Arwing came to settle beside Lance's Mk2.

After a few moments, the wolf responded half-heartedly, "I'm fine."

It was almost half an hour before Tamara relayed that the evacuations were complete and Lance could return to the Great Fox. In that time, Lance's thoughts had remained mostly blank. His stomach felt ill and his head light. Fortunately, returning to the Great Fox didn't require a great deal of focus or dexterity.

Once his Arwing was sitting in the hangar bay, Lance found himself feeling weak and unable to move, or even power down the idling fighter craft. He breathed deliberately, trying to will away the nauseas feeling. All sense of his surroundings was lost and only when Ruby finally knocked on the canopy did the black wolf respond.

"You should come and get something to eat," the collie said through the canopy.

"I'm... not hungry," Lance replied. His stomach felt empty, but not from lack of food. If he ate now, he might only throw up.

Ruby sat on the Arwing's body, beside the cockpit, and seemed to make himself comfortable, as if he expected to be there for a while.

"That was your first time, wasn't it. Taking a life," Ruby observed. When Lance didn't reply after a minute, the collie continued, "I know you probably won't believe me, but I know how you are feeling."

"Do you?!" Lance shot back without looking up, "How could you know how I'm feeling?"

"Because I felt the same way my first time. We all did. Our second time, too. And our third, and our fourth. The job we do isn't out of desire, it's out of necessity. And the need isn't ours, it's someone else's. We aren't here to kill, that's just an unfortunate result of what our job calls for.

"We provide a service that some need but cannot achieve on their own. And in order to continue providing that service, money is needed, to maintain our ships, keep us fed and healthy, and even to allow us to relax and unwind so that the stresses of our job do not get to us. We do not take this job lightly and we do not expect anyone else to. Killing is not something anyone on this ship is proud of, and that is a part of why we are here. None of us would have been hired if we did not feel something. That is what makes us different from the murderers and thugs that have given mercenaries a bad name."

Ruby went quiet for a couple of minutes to let Lance absorb what had been said, then he added, "Everyone we face in combat has chosen to risk their life, accepted that by climbing into that cockpit of theirs and launching, it may very well be the last time. We have superior technology on our side, but we do not attack the defenceless or innocent. Krystal makes sure of that."

Lance, beginning to feel his strength return, powered down his Arwing and opened the cockpit. But he still did not move yet, or look up.

"If it helps," Ruby continued, "try to think about the other side of the coin. Think of the lives you helped protect, today. Think of the lives you saved."

Lance had all but forgotten what the job had actually been, to protect civilians while they got away. It didn't stop the churning in this stomach, but it helped settle his nerves a little.

Seeing that the wolf was starting to recover, Ruby stood up and climbed down off the Arwing. "Those feelings won't go away. But in time, they will become less sour. So come and eat something; you will feel better."