"Now, what you have here is gasoline," the Freedom Fighters watched intently as Rotor, Knothole's resident mechanic, gestured to a small tub of yellowish liquid resting on the car hood. "I'm assuming all of you have seen gas before? Good, because you don't want to confuse it with this," Rotor's waved his hand at another small tub, this one containing a brown, oily liquid. "This is what we call diesel. You do not want to confuse it, or mix it, with gasoline."
"Why? What happens?" Amy asked
"If you put diesel in a gas engine, nothing. Darn thing won't start. You put gas in a diesel engine however, it'll start, but it won't run well, and then stop altogether. This is why it's important you smell it." The freedom fighter exchanged glances hesitantly, "Well, what are you waiting for?"
The Freedom Fighters began reluctantly leaning over the tub in turn. "So, what does it smell like?" Rotor asked.
"Like, Gas," Sonic answered, wrinkling his nose. Amy voiced her agreement.
Rotor rolled his eyes, "Thank you for that apt description. Now smell the diesel." Amy leaned over the tub and sniffed, regretting it instantly.
"Ugh, that's awful," Amy complained, shrinking back for the invading stench.
Sonic gave an experimental sniff and recoiled immediately, "Yeah, it is."
"Another way you can tell the difference," Rotor said, continuing the lesson, "Is colour. Gas is usually yellow or green, diesel tends to be light brown or dyed red, and thicker than gas is. Furthermore, do you notice the fumes coming off the gas?"
Amy examined the first can, "Diesel doesn't have that," she realized.
"Yup, that's why we keep 'em in these," Rotor picked up the gas can. "You want to keep those vapours from escaping. It's why the gas cans are airtight," he brought a pair of cans into view, "and this here is fuel stabilizer. There are different ones for gas and diesel, so pay attention to the labels. Especially since they also tell you how much to use."
"Use for what?"
"For keeping the gas for going bad," explained Rotor.
"Gas can… spoil?" Amy asked.
"Over time, gas oxidizes and goes sour, that's why you need to keep it stored right. Bad gas doesn't burn well, if at all."
"But the stabilizer fixes that?" Amy inquired.
"It can prevent good gas from going bad, but it won't fix it," Rotor confirmed. "Also, even if you take care of it, eventually it just goes south. Kinda like food really."
"So, how long until all the gas goes bad for good?"
Rotor drew a breath and scratched his head before turning back to Amy. "Couple of years for the gasoline, soon we won't be able to use the motorcycles anymore. They're giving such terrible mileage already. Diesel, which is less refined, can potentially go for over a decade, but we would need to reconfigure the engines which is a whole other challenge."
"Unless we start stealing it from Eggman," Amy added.
"Or that. Now," Rotor exclaimed, picking up a piece of clear tubing connected by a bulge, "This here's a syphon. Run it into a gas tank and squeeze the pump here in the middle to get things going. Make sure you put the right end in or you'll just be blowing air into the gas tank."
"Why clear tubes?" Amy asked
"So that you can see the gas coming, hopefully giving yourself enough of a head start to avoid getting a mouthful of it," Rotor gestured to a jack sitting by the car. "Go ahead, jack it up."
"Me? I'm not strong enough to do that."
"Ah, I can help," Bunnie, a cyborg rabbit, volunteered. She strode forward and began bracing her mechanical limbs on the ground, acting much like a jack and raising the car up on its side.
"Wow," Amy gasped, awestruck at the sight.
"Okay, Bunnie that's enough." Bunnie took a couple of deep breaths and wiped the sweat from her brow while Amy watched, surprised at how high the back end of the car was off the ground.
"Now, this ain't exactly rocket science," Rotor said as he knelt down by the back of the vehicle. "Gas goes in there and comes down here," Rotor gestured to the car's underside. "So, just poke a hole in the tank to syphon the gas," Rotor handed Amy a long screwdriver and a hammer.
"Um, isn't this dangerous?" Amy asked as she positioned herself under the gas tank. "Couldn't the gas tank, like, blow up?"
"Well, what isn't these days?" the worst that can happen is accidentally striking a spark with the screwdriver, but with these non-sparking screwdrivers, probably not," Rotor shrugged. Not very reassured, Amy hammered in the screwdriver.
"See, no big deal. It probably helps that it's all rusted up. Just put the screwdriver in your pocket for now, we're gonna need it for the next lesson," Rotor instructed, taking the hammer back.
"What's the next lesson?"
"Everything else you need to know about taking care of a bike," Rotor led Amy over to a bike with its engine exposed. "Now, fuel is drawn into these chambers, spark plug makes a spark, ignites the vapours, and that's what drives the pistons. If it's a diesel engine, which it ain't, there won't be a spark plug-"
"Because diesel doesn't have vapours!"
Rotor smirked, "That's right. On a diesel engine, air is pulled into the chamber, then compressed, which superheats it. Then, the diesel is injected right into the compressed air, and that ignites it." Amy rammed the key into the ignition; the engine groaned and struggled, but finally rumbled to life.
When Sally wrenched open the tarp, she found Sonic sitting on a motorcycle saddle with a girl on his lap. Amy shrieked and slid off her significant other, far enough away that she couldn't be grabbed. So, Sally grabbed Sonic and shook him instead. Sonic merely leaned back and tugged his baseball cap over his eyes.
Sally yanked the cap off and shoved it against his chest, "Tell me you at least cleared the road to town as I told you?"
"Sure I did."
As the trio rode along, a low buzzing drone filled the sky and Sally immediately pulled over to the side, slamming hard on the brakes to avoid striking a rusted-out hulk on the road, partially hidden by a falling tree. She rubbed at her temples, ready to take-off at top speed as soon as they were spotted by the drone. But their luck held and the drone continued its pre-programmed flight path.
"I know you're stressed," Sonic protested, "but try not to get us killed."
Sally blinked several times and shook her head tiredly, "I've barely slept this week."
Sonic adjusted his hat, "Are you sure you don't want me to drive?"
She glanced sidelong at him as she set the bike in neutral, "I'm the one with the license here."
"C'mon, I've ridden this bike before!"
"Down a clear, empty stretch of road at walking pace. You haven't driven it in town. Just hush, will you?" She ordered and resumed their journey. They took long winding paths that morphed from pavement to gravel, then to the dirt trails of the Great Forest. After many protests, the bike, at long last, brought them to the craggy paths that would take them home.
"Five years," Sally muttered, "Five years since the coup and you lot think this is all make-believe."
Under Princess Sally Acorn's close supervision, Knothole changed. Children had formerly spent almost all their time playing, now, they worked.
Because all the children of Knothole had never needed to do any upkeep, they had known little of maintenance. Consequently, Knothole had gone to seed. Plaster was cracking from the ceilings, the thatched roof huts had gone to chaff, stucco was crumbling off the walls, and zinc roof tiles were falling from the roofs of the children's homes.
Rotor was placed in charge of clean-up and repairs, for which he enlisted the help of Tails, whose nascent talent of flight proved an unexpected boon. Restoration, however, was not the sole objective in the walrus's mind, as he looked into the possibility of surrounding the village with a stone wall and moat.
Bunnie had gathered up the baubles within the former Royal Retreat and traded some of them for seeds and farming implements. With her advice and encouragement, city dwellers, used to cushy lives within Mobotropolis, now worked as farmhands and labourers. The able-bodied pulled ploughs to till the field, while the rest sowed seeds, struggling hard to make up for lost time.
Bunnie's massive project had yet to bear fruit, so the rest of her friends had to gather supplies to tide the settlement over. The Freedom Fighters responsible for heading out on supply runs made regular early-morning treks to where the elderly Tig stripes made his hermitage. The retired colonel had agreed to help them hone their fighting skills, though it was unclear if he was aware of it. He reacted with genuine surprise each morning when he opened his door to find several enthusiastic Freedom Fighters awaiting their lessons.
This was how the children found themselves standing in rows in the meadow and imitating thrusts with broomsticks. Rotor had complained that he lacked the dexterity for the task, Antoine fought with a great deal of zest and zeal, but without much in the way of discipline. Geoffrey St. John, the former military cadet, had, to no one's surprise, showed a great deal of aptitude. He insisted that it was the easiest thing in the world, merely a matter of directing the spear tip at the correct velocity.
Sonic spent most of his time in the groundskeeper shed on the furthest end of the valley. Prior to Robotnik's coup d'état, it was the home of Knothole's caretaker, but Rotor had converted it into his residence and workshop.
Sonic claimed he was trying to restore the electric fence, but that was only a pretence. Really, he just wanted to tinker with the hissing, bubbling machines, and get away from the wave of dreariness that seemed to have swept over his friends. Rotor, restless by nature, and just as eager as Sonic to escape, seemed to the colonel's disapproving glare, frequently joined him. Tails, who was too young to be concerned by the worries of the others, and eager to follow his blue hero, found himself developing a keen interest in all things mechanical. Together, the trio soon had the power generators up and running again.
The enthusiastic hedgehog found himself running out of things to do, but upon coming across Rotor's rather extensive collection of model trains he soon set up a miniature track that snaked its way around the floor and up the walls. It passed through every part of the workshop, delivering tools or messages to his buddies while they worked in different rooms.
Sonic was alone at the workshop today, Nonetheless, he started the model train as usual. Out on the back porch, with a mask over his face, and heavy gloves on his hand, he was in the process of stick welding a cracked boiler that had provided hot water for the village. A sizeable supply of coal was leftover in the basement, and if Sonic could get the boiler running properly again, he could soon be able to restore hot water for his friends.
Sparks bounces onto Sonic's mask and apron. The acrid smell of ozone filled his nose, and sweat ran freely down his face to sting his eyes. He shook his head, clearing the urge to call it quits. He knew a little welding from living with his famed uncle, Sir Charles the Hedgehog. His parents, Jules and Bernadette Hedgehog, had hoped through some hitherto unknown form of osmosis, that his uncle would impart some academic inclination into the recalcitrant hedgehog. In this, they were left sorely disappointed, but Sonic did learn a thing or two, and for several tense seconds, the weld was his world.
As he worked, something coarse slid up the back of his neck. Afraid he was being probed by some blood-sucking insect, he snapped off the electrode, leapt up, and swatted wildly at the air, only to hear a wild, high pitched laugh behind him. Yanking off his mask he spun to find Amy Rose rolling on her back and giggling.
"Ames!"
"She stopped laughing and gazed up at him, "Did I surprise you?"
"Don't you know that's dangerous? I could have burned myself! Or you could've gotten sparks in your eyes!" Sonic shut down the diesel motor for the welding electrode and slung off his apron. He mopped at his forehead in a vain attempt to clear his brow, slick with sweat.
"Aren't you supposed to be training with the others?"
Amy flopped down on the floor again. "Don't wanna."
"I don't blame you."
"Realizing he still had his welding gloves in his hands, he tossed them to the floor. Odd, Sonic knew his mother would have had a conniption if she had caught him welding without supervision. But here in Knothole that hadn't even crossed his mind. With a twinge of sadness, he realized that he was already doing a whole host of other things here that were much more dangerous than welding.
"I miss the days when we could just, you know, hang out."
"You get to hang out with the rest of the guys though, building new stuff," Amy pouted, "That's much more fun than going through the same motions day in and day out."
"Nah, it isn't me. Rotor's the smart cookie. I'm just the glorified delivery boy. If he wants the spanner, screwdriver, discombobulator, or that little flashlight he keeps losing, then I'm the hog for the job," Sonic leaned back against the boiler and stared up into the bright afternoon sky. "I don't even know what to do with most of the things in here."
Amy pursed her lips and beamed widely.
"He's probably gonna be mad that I'm working on the boiler without them, but he has his hands full already. It's actually pretty boring here," Sonic stamped his sneakers on the floor, "Oh wait! We did find something interesting," he exclaimed, "We actually got a hold of an ol' airframe with an engine. My lil buddy sure is all for a plane. He thinks if we scrounge for some parts, we might actually get airborne!"
Still on her back, Amy stuck out her tongue and blew a raspberry, "All he cares about is flying!" she turned over on her side and fluttered her eyes as if she were planning to take a nap.
"Well, yeah, but think how handy it might be to wrest the skies back from Buttnik," Sonic defended Tails. "The main problem, though, is that we don't have enough silk for the frame. I swiped a few of those mouldy old dresses from the masquerade, but that's still not enough."
Amy blew another raspberry, but Sonic could see she had a smile on her face. He paused a moment longer, but then obligingly slid toward her and ran his hand along the fur on her belly. She sighed in contentment and took to wiggling her legs while humming tunelessly.
After a minute, Sonic whispered, "I don't think I like it here anymore."
Amy stopped humming She opened her eyes and raised her head, "You still like me, don't you?"
"Of course. But, I mean, it's not fun. Not like it used to be."
"I know what you mean. I don't wanna fight, an' I don't wanna work. I want to play. C'\mon Sonic," Amy rolled over and rose to her feet.
"Where are we going?" Sonic asked.
"Don't know. Someplace fun. Rotor says he might've found a way to keep our ice cream supply going. We can go there!"
"We have ice cream though."
"But for that, we've gotta go back, an' then we gotta see Sal!"
The hedgehog facepalmed, "I forgot about that."
Amy stuck out her tongue again and rolled her eyes. "I know a guy who knows a guy. Let's go there. He'll have ice cream," Amy twirled, "got your camera, Sonic?"
"Yup," he answered, before pulling said object out of his satchel and slinging it around his neck.
"Good!" Amy pranced out of Rotor's workshop and into the yard, opening her arms wide to be swept off her feet by her ravishing knight in blue. Sonic's stomach lurched as he swept her up bridal style. And then, he was picking up speed and letting the wind whip around the two of them.
XXX
Knothole, green and lush, stretched out below. Sonic could just make out where their home stood amongst the foliage. Sonic gently lifted the camera over his left eye: through the magnification, he could barely make out the workshop where he and Tails had spent many countless hours playing together. It was barely visible as a hint of brown amid a sea of brilliant green.
Sonic snapped a picture before lying beside his soulmate.
He could feel his heart pounding hard and slow against her bosom. His insides were knotted up with a new and unknown sensation, at once both painful and pleasant. The pair lay on a grassy hilltop outside the picturesque village. Near their heads sat a picnic basket, beside it was two tin dishes that had formerly held meat pies. Beside the empty tins lay a dish of half-eaten pastries, a nearly destroyed wheel of cheese, and several empty bottles.
"I'm bored," Amy giggled, "What's next?"
"How about you watch the clouds? Look at that one there," He put an arm over her shoulder and pointed at a white tuft near the horizon. "It looks kind of like a peacock. Wait, no, more like a turkey, maybe? Just stare at it, okay?"
Amy jumped up with a slight frown, "Okay, but it's kind of hard to get in the cloud-gazing mood-"
"Just stand there. Hold still and tell me what it looks like. Don't take your eyes off it."
Amy spread her feet, set her shoulders, and opened her eyes wide, furrowed her brow, and, promptly snorted.
"The cloud. Focus on the cloud."
"It looks like a meadowlark," she commented, before settling down listlessly beside her beau. "I could live like this forever," Amy said dreamily.
"Not forever," Sonic answered, "I had to take Hamlin's watch just to get all this food."
Amy giggled, "Stop, please. Let's just enjoy the afternoon." Amy stood and cartwheeled. Once upright she formed a cone with her hands and squinted at the village, now seemingly so far and unimportant to the infatuated girl. "I don't want to be a soldier," She said, "But Geoffrey's going to make me."
"We could always use more Freedom Fighters, ya know."
Amy shook her head, "Let's find another Knothole, Sonic. You, and me, and Tails," Amy suggested.
"I can't stay like this forever," he sighed, "Sal gets worried when I'm gone all the time. We could only do stuff like this on the weekends?" He suggested
"The Freedom fighting stuff?"
"Yeah, battling old Buttnik," Sonic looked out and commented, "It's good that Sal is here to integrate the newcomers. I wouldn't have gotten away from my new fans otherwise."
Amy ignored the change in subject, "Sounds like serious stuff," she replied, before bounding like a gazelle towards the stupefied hedgehog. The fleet-footed Freedom Fighter lost his balance, his insides lurched as he slid off the side of the gently sloping hill, only for Amy to wrap her arms around his ankles and arrest the slide.
He gasped, "Sal would kill me if-"
He sucked in a breath as Amy rolled on a soft meadow that glistened with moisture. Sonic buried his face amid her thick forest of pink quills. He could hear Amy whispering, her voice barely audible above the zephyr whistling past his ears.
"I always feel like I have to move," she said, "I can't hold still. If I sit down for too long, or if I try to watch something too long, I get all twisted up inside. I want up. I want to run around. I tried to watch a ladybug climb a blade of grass once, but I couldn't do it. I yelled, 'Too slow!' and I jumped up, took the ladybug in my hand, and threw her into the air so she'd fly. Everyone's too quiet, too slow. Everything is," she paused, "Except you," her voice went even lower. "I feel like I can hold still and be quiet when I'm with you."