1
Colonel Miles "Tails" Prower was in a foul mood. The young Air Force officer was on the path to four stars, and maybe the top uniformed job in the Air Force. "I was an ambitious son of a gun," he said later, "and I'd been lucky. I had a very good record. I was in this thing to go all the way, to be the chief of staff."
He was, however, stuck in Soleanna as the senior U.F. military officer and representative to Soleanna from G.U.N., the Guardian Units of Nations—a reward for years in the Mushroom Kingdom and in the Office of the Secretary of Defense as liaison to the Alex Kidd White House. He had been promised he would only be in Soleanna for two years, but now they, the mysterious they, wanted to extend him another two years.
He saw it as a career disaster, keeping him out of the action, the "smoke" as he called it—the center of things. The "smoke" was Central City or the Mushroom Kingdom, where he had flown 95 combat reconnaissance missions.
On this particular day, he was by Wave Ocean, a beachside resort area just outside of Soleanna, traveling with the U.F. ambassador to Soleanna.
Prower picked up a copy of the Daily Soleanna, the local newspaper. Here would be some intel on what was going on in the smoke. He took the paper back to his motel room, a small, wooden hut by the beach, and settled in with a chili dog. The main story was Sonic the Hedgehog, who had just won election as president of the United Federation two weeks before. Prower had voted for him, and had long admired and looked up to his heroics.
He stopped cold. Sonic's top aide was identified as Knuckles the Echidna. Was it possible? Knuckles was an old acquaintance. It was astonishing that Knuckles was running the transition team preparing to take over the White House and the U.F. government, leaving his life-long post atop Angel Island.
Prower and Knuckles had met during a visit to the Spagonia University up north. Prower had been looking for technical books on how to build his own biplane, the Tornado, and Knuckles, who rarely ever left his post on Angel Island guarding the Master Emerald, an ancient relic with awesome power, had sought out books about the deeper history of the seven Chaos Emeralds, their own powers and the many global conflicts they had provoked. They bumped into each other in the library and quickly hit it off. Knuckles was quiet, a somewhat colorless creature, austere, not very political, and very serious about his work. He often came across as a bit of a jerk. Prower had lost touch with Knuckles, but Charmy Bee of the Chaotix Detective Agency, a mutual acquaintance, helped exchange Christmas cards and snapshots of their own travels.
It wasn't much to hang on to. But a fighter pilot knew about coincidence and chance, the quick maneuver in the air. It was the difference between ace or dead.
"Knuckles!" He tried to recall everything about him. How much could you learn from a one-off encounter and hanging around a university library? They had grown up in very different environments. Knuckles was the last of his species with a solemn, important duty to defend the Master Emerald. And with that duty came isolation. The ol' "Guardian of the Master Emerald," Knucklehead, the loner atop Angel Island. Prower needed an exit strategy and now he thought, Here's my out. It was worth a try.
Prower had almost perfect Efficiency Reports, the formal evaluations that drive promotions. He had served as aide to two generals. With a gentle, relaxed charm he knew how to please the boss without fawning, even if he occasionally did come off as a bit needy sometimes. He had earned early promotions due to his great intellect and skills as a pilot, and his personnel file was stuffed with letters of commendation from top officials at G.U.N., including from the commander himself, even if his small size did cause many to initially underestimate him. The twin-tails that he had been born with, due to a genetic defect, which he used for flying like a helicopter, though they had made him the target of vicious bullying or torment as a child, were now his greatest asset.
"If you're going to get promoted to general officer," Prower later said, "you've got to be where the smoke is, in a really important, highly visible job in either Central City or back in the Mushroom Kingdom. And command of a tactical fighter wing in the Mushroom Kingdom is what I wanted in the worst way.
"I was desperate to get back to the Mushroom Kingdom. If I have to be delayed in Soleanna for another two years, I'm dead in the water. I'm frantic, I'm actually frantic. I hate to admit that." The urgency, he said, was simply because no one knew how long the war would last, and he did not want to miss out.
Prower awoke the next morning to heavy rain in Wave Ocean, and lay in bed thinking. If only he could talk with Knuckles, an unhurried session to tout his record: The commander had employed him as a contact point in the White House. He had prepared the commander's regular military reports to the cabinet and accompanied him whenever he visited the White House. He knew a lot about power levers in Central City. He wanted to tell his Spagonia pal about how crucial it was for him to be in an important, high-visibility assignment when he would become eligible for promotion to brigadier general, the one-star generalship, and the road to the smoke.
Would Knuckles understand? Could he possibly pull some strings? There were lots of strings to be pulled, especially from the vantage of the White House.
The weather stayed bad. Good. He wanted time. He flew to the tiny airport terminal, where he had left the Tornado. Scanning the day-old paper from Station Square, he saw nothing about Sonic or his transition. "Damnit!" He thumbed through the other newspapers and several magazines. Nothing. At the counter, he sipped a fruity drink. The rain continued. Prower's mind was churning hard. He bought an inexpensive bag of mint candy and returned to the motel and hung a sign on the door: DO NOT DISTURB. Shaking his damp, orange fur dry, he put on a robe and sat to write. "Dear Knuckles..."
At first, Prower wanted to describe his plight and see if Knuckles would intervene and assist with a new Air Force assignment. He wanted to get back to the Mushroom Kingdom with a wing command, a large unit of many dozens of planes. That seemed incredibly audacious. But Prower's strong suit was personality; he could always put on a brave, can-do face, even if he wasn't always as confident as he appeared. In school, he had been teased and bullied for his two tails, elected class president as a joke, and student body president as part of yet another joke. Despite the brutal bullying, he had earned letters and gold awards in mathematics, engineering, and science competitions. Soon the letter to Knuckles was a direct appeal for a face-to-face meeting at the Golden Ring Hotel in Empire City, where the president-elect had set up his transition shop. Just 20 to 30 minutes. That was a bold request but Prower was a solid and friendly voice from the past.
He was running out of motel stationery, down to the last sheet. Going over to the bed, he lay down. What did he really want? Was it just an assist with a new assignment? Or was it more?
Prower imagined himself in an office talking to Knuckles. Would Knuckles still have that "all business" aura? The cold efficiency and strong will had doubtless appealed to Sonic. Prower knew the type from the Air Force. If he could get an audience, he would be able to establish a rapport. That was what he did, that was one of his talents. He knew that it was also dicey. If he went outside the chain of command to Knuckles, it could be seen as an impropriety. So, he had to ask himself, What is my true objective? Why is it suddenly so important to put myself in front of Knuckles and try to impress him?
But in one of those rationalizations common to all and for which Prower forgave himself, he decided he could offer his professional services for a post on Sonic's International Security Council staff. That would position him to return to the Mushroom Kingdom. That could be easy, he figured. He had to present himself as a clear-eyed flying ace of excellent character and deportment. He was a graduate of the G.U.N. College, had built his own aircraft, had traveled the world and had labs in multiple different cities, in multiple different countries. He pretty well knew the world and the issues. Not a bad package, he concluded. He was also combat ready and trained in every facet of tactical aviation—air-to-air, air-to-ground, air defense and reconnaissance. He was one of the few Air Force colonels with that range of experience.
Out of motel stationery, he went to the front desk and got more. Soon back in Soleanna, he revised his letter, making it into a biographical résumé, and sent it off. Later he tried to call Knuckles in Empire City. No luck.
Finally, Prower reached Silver the Hedgehog, Knuckles's executive assistant, on the phone. Silver was Mr. Step-and-Fetch-It. (Later in the Sonic White House the staff assistants were called "Silvers." Even Silver eventually had a Silver who was known as "Silver's Silver.")
"Colonel Prower, this is Silver the Hedgehog. Knuckles is busy now. Can I be helpful? Knuckles knows you're calling and he told me you two knew each other at Spagonia."
Prower explained that he was coming to Central City on business. Of course, the only business was to see Knuckles but he didn't say that. He said he wanted no more than 30 minutes on an important personal matter. He knew he wasn't fooling Silver, who replied they should talk the next day, and that he would probably have more to go on.
In Soleanna, Prower was his own boss in charge of his schedule so he arranged to take leave and set up his travel. Within days, he was in a room at the Central City Green Hills Hotel watching Sonic on television announce his cabinet.
Prower would later write in his unpublished memoir, "I took note of the Cabinet selectees' names and as I did so a strange feeling came over me. It was one I've never forgotten—a good feeling, one of confidence, a premonition of sorts that I was closing in on my destiny, that I would definitely be a part of this upcoming administration."
The next morning, his fur clean and freshly brushed, Prower flew to the G.U.N. headquarters, which was familiar territory. He had worked there in several assignments. During the morning, he tracked down colleagues who pulled the strings on the many military programs in Soleanna.
At noon, he walked to the vast G.U.N. Concourse, a secret mini-mall of military arsenals, so to speak, found a pay phone and called Silver.
"Mr. Silver is not available. Would you care to leave a message?"
"Damnit!" Prower muttered. He stared at the coin box of the pay phone, his thin, tube-like legs extended out of the booth. Now he was in the delicate minuet of making sure Knuckles knew he was available but not appearing overanxious. He calculated that if he called back in 30 minutes, and then again and again, his call slips could pile up and he would look like a pest. Not persistent, but annoying. Difficult and unwelcome. He decided to play a version of Hard to Get. He would wait until mid-afternoon to call again.
He went into Central City and lunched alone at a chili dog stand. No city brought back more stirring memories because over the years he had been in and out of Central City.
At 3 p.m. he picked up the phone. "Knuckles will be able to see you tomorrow afternoon here in Empire City," Silver said. They agreed on 2 p.m.
The next day, Prower flew to Empire City. As soon as the meeting with Knuckles was over, he was heading back to Soleanna. He then went down to a diner for a light lunch and a little meditation—a comforting stream of hope punctuated with flashes of deep worry. He needed to present himself as a competent potential addition to Sonic's team. There was much to think about. What exactly was the course he wanted to take? And was he going about it in the right way? How many acquaintances from years back did Knuckles have knocking on his door? There was a bit of effrontery in it, but Knuckles also might find it comforting. The top aide to the president might be suspicious of new friends.
Prower stopped at the restroom to gargle and brush his teeth, a ritual he practiced before important meetings. Soon he was out the door. It was cold but sunny, just right for the walk of several blocks to the Golden Ring, which had an elegance of its own. He visited the restroom again to brush his fur. He was conscious of not wanting to look unkempt or goofy as though he had just stuck a finger in an electrical socket. Or worse, been electrocuted; his greatest fear.
"I'm walking in for the final exam," he later recalled.
At the front desk, he asked for the main floor of the Sonic Transition Office and headed for the elevators.
Suddenly there was a commotion behind him, men and animals moving fast. As he turned, he saw this wave sweeping in from the chilly air outside. He knew at once it was G.U.N. Secret Service moving with that special urgency and self-importance. "There's this rush of bodies," Prower recalled. "It looked like 40 or 50 of 'em. Some of them had cameras. So, this was the press. And lo and behold, Sonic the Hedgehog. I'd never laid eyes on Sonic the Hedgehog in person before, but he comes rushing in. I'd thought at the time he looked a little bluer than I thought he was, and a bit taller."
Sonic smiled and nodded to the hotel staff and bystanders and did not turn Prower's way. In 30 seconds, Sonic and his G.U.N. agents, and perhaps a handler or two, had crowded into an elevator and were gone.
Prower marveled at the way the old Knuckles connection was going, the timing, the prospect... the sense of destiny. In the back of his mind was the question: how far to push this? Well, he was pushing it to the limit, and the main event was to come. Maybe his hope was excessive, and he would get a polite brush-off, "Good to see you, Tails, and may the rest of your life turn out well."