Author's Note: Thanks LanceFox for another review! You have no idea how much it means to me that you say that you're worried for Noël's life. Seeing that he actually is endearing to the readers makes me very confident with the direction the story is going in.
And as for the matter of a take on Tails Adventure, well let's just say the Miles of this story has a lot of things in his past to tell. But if you want a more pure and standalone story, TCTW's St Animosity is a rather nice read.
Now, to the story...
He looks into the flowing creek, the purity of its essence and motion mesmerises him. He lowers his hand into it, the cold sting of the water is refreshing.
What's happening? Why are things like this now?
He is bewildered, he doesn't understand what change in his life is causing the change in this dream, these dreams.
"Tails you better stop hiding! If the Master Emerald is missing when I get back, you're in for a world of hurt, little guy."
Well, it only seems to have changed so much...
He stands up from his kneeling position and begins running. He doesn't bother even looking around to see where's going, he knows it doesn't matter. The faces and their reactions begin to barrage him, he begins saying it, again, again and again and again.
I'm not a monster, I'm not a monster, I'm not a monster, I'm not a monster, I'm not a monster, I'm not a monster...
Eventually he stops saying it to them and starts saying it to himself; as if repeating something over and over again, again and again and again, would, could, will, change reality. Then a face hits him, her face.
NO!
He can't do it again, again and again and again; he won't do it again, again and again and again. He thinks back to another dream, another of these dreams, the one that ended differently. He begins to remember what happened, and he starts thinking of him.
"Him, him, him, him, hi-"
A booming voice interrupts his repetitive chant.
"My boy."
He stops and turns around; he sees his father. His father, strong and stern, wearing his magnificent outfit with golden epaulettes and a museum's worth of medals. Every one of them shines brilliantly, enthralling him. He smiles for the first time in this dream, in these dreams.
"My boy, get up."
Thank you
"My boy, get up!"
His eyes open, the azure irises staring at the ceiling of the tent. He sits up and looks at the marshal.
Thank you
"Mon garçon, did you sleep well?"
He looks at the grey renard, staring down at reports and images from scouting parties. He is about to lie, about to say yes, the lie which no one believes, the lie without deception. But something in him is different now and he decides not to. He decides to be, not honest, since he already is being honest with him, no the word is open.
Yes, I'll be open
"No, but better than usual."
Noël looks up from his reports and images and at Miles. Although his face shows no sign of surprise, Miles knows it is in the somewhere inside that grey renard's mind. If you ask him how, well he would have no answer.
"Is that so?"
"Yea. It is."
Their eyes remain locked for several seconds but there is no awkwardness. Then they break the lock at the same time, but not in a hurried and nervous manner; instead it is an orderly, organised, and steady retreat to opposite sides. In those brief few seconds of eye contact, Miles says more to him than he has said to some of his closest family in his whole life.
Thank you
He gets off the cot and stretches his body.
"What's on the menu for today, Marshal?"
He stands up and reaches down behind a table, pulls a massive stack of papers and slams them down onto the table, placing a hand on the top of it.
"Ughhh! Pleaseeeee not that!"
He smiles.
"Well, if vous want to sing to help augmenter the morale of the men..."
Miles buries his face into his right hand.
"One time and now I'm never gonna hear the end of that..."
"Non, non vous are not."
He emits a soft laugh, age and experiencing tempering it.
"Yea yea, laugh it up."
"Oh, do not inquiéter, I will."
Despite the humour being made at his expense, Miles cannot be mad at him.
Thank you
Amy and Sally exit the car and stare at the sight before them.
"Wow..."
Sally smiles at Amy's wonder.
"You never really get used to seeing it."
"I bet! So, which one is this one again?"
"HMS Enduring."
"What the hell does HMS stand for?"
"His Majesty's Ship."
"Seems kinda sexist."
"Don't worry, if the sovereign is a queen, they switch the His to Her, so it's always appropriate."
"Oh, that makes sense. When was the last queen by the way?"
"Never. Such a thing hasn't happened yet in Acorn's history."
"Heh, maybe you'll be the first?"
Sally gives an exasperated sigh but, before she can follow it with words, Amy begins running towards the Enduring.
"Enough gawking at this thing, let's get on board; Downunda isn't getting any closer!"
"No, it is not!"
The two ladies run up towards the ship and aviators in white uniforms greet them with salutes, palms facing out. Once they get close enough, the aviators guide them into the ship. Amy, not one who can just appreciate the value of simply waiting for answers, speaks.
"Where are you taking us to? This doesn't look like the living quarters."
Sally is about to tell her to be silent but one of the aviators in front of them answers, continuing to walk and face forward the whole time.
"Astute observation, Miss Rose. We are taking you to the flight deck. The captain wishes to greet you personally."
Sally now speaks, to prevent Amy from saying anything to anger anybody.
"We are thankful for your help."
"Don't mention it, Your Royal Highness."
She smiles somewhat awkwardly at such a formal address.
"Uh, just Sally is fine; but the officiality is much appreciated."
"I'm afraid I can't do such a thing, Your Royal Highness."
She sighs while Amy lets out a chuckle. Soon they walk up the final flight of stairs and come out onto the windswept surface of the ship. The two ladies gasp in near unison at the sight before them. Hundreds, no, thousands of aviators, standing still as statues. They are awestruck for a moment but eventually snap back to reality and follow the aviators that brought them here. As they walk, they approach a makeshift stage platform, on it one man, dressed in a fantastic white and gold uniform and a matching cap to boot; behind him are two chairs. They walk up to the stage, up the stairs, and towards the red vulpine. Once in front of him, he gives a sharp salute to Sally, palm facing out.
"Welcome aboard, Your Royal Highness."
He lowers his arm, turns his head to Amy, and gives her a nod.
"Miss Rose."
They are rather tongue-tied, not having much to say.
"Captain Edmund Grey, Ma'am. It's an honour and a privilege to have a member of the royal family on board the HMS Enduring. I'm sure you'll find everything aboard up to snuff. She will make quite the impression when the locals in Downunda see her."
"Her?"
"The ship, ma'am."
"Ah of course, my apologies."
"None required, ma'am."
"You don't have to keep calling me ma'am you know?"
"Maybe not, ma'am."
Amy giggles at the sly refusal of her implicit request.
"Why is there a stage here? And why is everyone standing on the deck?"
"Simple, ma'am. A royal passenger such as yourself requires a royal reception. Please, have a seat."
He gestures to the two chairs. Amy finally speaks.
"There's only two."
"Do you have another accompanying guest, Miss Rose?"
He looks around.
"No, it's just, well, where are you going to sit?"
"I'll be standing right here."
"Oh, I see."
With that, they sit while the red vulpine moves to stand beside Sally.
"I hope you enjoy it, Your Royal Highness."
He gives a visual signal and instruments begin playing.
Now Playing: "Heart Of Steel"
(Inspired By "Heart Of Oak")
Come, cheer up, my lads, 'tis to glory we steer,
With us flying so high, we shall banish all fear;
To honour we call you, to our skies to defend
For who are so brave as the sons of the wind?
Heart of Steel are our ships,
Jolly Pounders are our men,
We always are ready: Steady, boys, Steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again!
Why are all these songs always about conquering, fighting, and killing? Why can't there be songs about mercy?
We never see our foes but we wish them to stay,
They never see us but they wish us away;
If they fly, why we follow, and drive them ashore,
And if they won't fight us, what can we do more?
Heart of Steel are our ships,
Jolly Pounders are our men,
We always are ready: Steady, boys, Steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again!
Always boasting about victory, always happy to drive others down. Why don't they sing about being magnanimous?
Still Acorn shall triumph, her ships plough the breeze,
Her standard be Justice, her watchword, "Loyalty",
Then cheer up my lads, with one heart let us sing,
To our soldiers, our aviators, our statesmen, our King!
Heart of Steel are our ships,
Jolly Pounders are our men,
We always are ready: Steady, boys, Steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and againnnnnnn!
Loyalty...
The song is now over and Captain Grey walks forward.
"Excellent show, men! Now, back to your stations. I want to be moving through the sky within thirty minutes!"
The white mass below gives salutes and a choir sounds forth.
"Sir, yes sir!"
And they quickly begin moving about like ants. Amy jumps up from her chair, shocking Sally who isn't sure why she's so excited.
"Wow! That song was great! Kicking ass, talking smack, and seeing the whole wide world! That's what's it's all about, right Captain?"
Grey gives a heart chuckle.
"Indeed, Miss Rose, indeed. With an attitude and furor like that, you'd make a fine marine!"
"No need to flatter me, Captain."
Sally is rather uncomfortable with this discussion and seeks to divert from it.
"As great as that all was, I really need to get to my quarters, I've been holding it for a while now."
"Ah, my apologies, Your Royal Highness. Right this way."
He gestures to the two of them to follow.
Miles and Noël go through what may as well be an endless horde of papers.
"Man, who knew that planning for an ultimate attack on the enemy stronghold could be so boring..."
"Mon garçon, as much as I sympathiser with your dislike for carrying out such a répétitif tâche, it is an essentiel one, and frankly we are résigné to such things for the time being. While the planification of the assaut final indeed will take time until it is termine, we also cannot procéder with it until the weather turns for the better or actually, in this case, for the worse."
"What, the weather? Why are we waiting on that?"
"The Royal Armée de l'Air is not a force to ignorer, we must account for it. Even though I believe that King O'Hedge will not fully utiliser it, there is a chance that the royalistes will be able to convince him, and so I must prépare for such a scénario. This is not like your batailles against le Docteur, where only a sélectionn few personnes are in danger. Tens of thousands of soldats' lives are at stake. Not to mention the fate of hundreds of thousands of peupel living in Marves as well as the fates of tens of millions of Mercians."
"Robert is a good a man, he would never do such a thing."
"Vous know him personnellement?"
"Yes, Sonic and I worked with him once while fighting against Robotnik's lackeys here in Mercia. He is a good man, he cares for the people; I can't see him ever deciding to do something so drastic, not when the only thing on the line is just his own power. He always seemed rather disinterested in being king anyways..."
"While I agree with your sentiment, I cannot take such a dangereux risk on something so crucial as this."
Miles looks down in contemplation, rubbing his chin.
"What if we had a way to make it so that, even if they decided they wanted to bring in the RAA, we could keep the skies clear."
Noël looks up from his work, his face betraying, for once it seems, a look of great interest.
"Go on..."
A smile grows.
"Well, I know that you said you didn't want to carry out any preceding assaults around Marves and even planned several 'defeats' away from the region in order to lull them into a sense of security, but what if, in the hours before the final assault, we carried out an attack on the main airfields of the RAA and neutralized them? That'd be even better than waiting for weather to go bad as even in bad weather some planes can get through and do a lotta damage."
"While I apprécier the audace of such a planifier, I'm not sure how vous would go about exécution it. If we knew where the RAA is stationné, we'd have carried out attaques on it long ago."
"Yea I know, and I don't know where they are either, but I'm sure I could find it."
"If vous couldn't find it before, what différence would vous be able to make now?"
"Before I was all alone, even arms-length was too intimate. But now? I've got comrades, I've got you guys. That and also not having to be worried about being spotted, at all, would be a great boon. Unlike most other Mobians, I really can't blend in. Two-tails alone make that next to impossible. But I'm done hiding."
Noël leans back, contemplating the idea.
"What planifier do you proposer?"
"Well first, we'd have to figure out where to start looking, I'll need to steal away several scouting parties for this task."
"Done. I'll have Edouard assister vous coordonner the assets and moving in the champ, if vous désirer that."
Miles blinks a few times, trying to be sure he just heard what he thinks he did.
"Uh, just like that?"
"Oui."
Noël's face is solid and still, the words coming without any interference from inflection.
"And if I said I don't want Edouard's help, would you still let me do this?"
"Oui."
He finally returns his eyes back to the papers.
"Why? Why would just trust me to undertake something this important? Without any reservation? Without any oversight?"
He raises his head and looks directly into Miles' eyes, brown and blue interlock.
"Because I wish to see an end to this damné wa; and because, Miles, I have faith in vous."
And without another word he returns once more to his work. Miles is dumbstruck. The marshal, no, Noël, trusts him. He trusts him. Every day, the ache in his chest is getting lighter.
Thank you
"Yer Ma'esty, please, I implore ya to send jus' one. With it, I could execu'e yer will an' see Mercia rid ov these radicals."
"I will not send anything of the sort. It is far too explicit a message, the geopolitical quagmire it would cause, I will not see it to. This plan of yours is already an inordinate risk, that I am only allowing you to take because I trust your judgement."
"But-"
"No more! I will approve the shipment of a dozen bombers and double that number of fighters to you, of fine quality, in order to be utilised as you see fit. Do I make myself clear, St. John?"
He lowers his head, a pointless gesture since only he could see it.
"Yes, yer Ma'esty."
"Good."
The king hangs up, leaving him to stew in his own troublesome situation.
"Time to work some miracles..."
He walks into a room, around thirty figures sit in silence around a table, their gazes all turning to his interest.
"Well bruvs, I have got good news an' bad news. Bad news firs', my king will not be sendin' us tha' airship I'd hoped he would. Good news, he will be sendin' nearly forty aircraft to us."
Several different moods come about at this news. Some are happy that they will receive any real support, but others view it as a troubling portend of the fate of plan. A great shetlie speaks up.
"I sayeth that news, 'tis most w'rrying. P'rhaps we shouldst reconsid'r?"
Emery, Geoffrey's key ticket to getting the idea even this far, moves to shut down any thoughts of abandoning this plan.
"We shouldst not. As uneasy as this plan maketh me, we truly has't nay choice. King O'Hedge is beseteth by a host of c'rruptive influences who art detrimental to the war eff'rt. We must act in his best int'rests, even if 't be true that he doest not seeth them as such. We art loyal s'rvants; shall we alloweth feareth f'r our owne well-being stande in the way of s'rving the realme?"
The skunk looks down.
Sorry Em'ry
The hedgehog's words manage to stay, at least for the most part, the fears of those present.
"Anon, valorous St. John, how shall we und'rtake this taske?"
He looks up and rubs his chin in thought.
"Well, firs' we gotta fabricate some'hin ta show that tha' Royal Guard is plannin ta overthrah tha' king."
A yellow cat speaks.
"How in the hell shall we doth such a thing? The Royal Guarde is most certes loyal, even if 't be true those gents indulge the King's poor'r habits."
"Nawmally I'd agree, luv. Bu' this righ' 'ere..."
He reaches into a pocket and produces a strange small device.
"This righ' here, luv, is how we'll do it."
Everyone in the room looks at the little thing with great intrigue. Emery is the first to ask what everyone is thinking.
"What is that device?"
"Let's jus' say it's a special tool for us Royal Secre' Service agen's. It's got an electrosta'ic transducer within it."
"So 'tis just a hidden microphone. How doest that holp us if 't be true the Royal Guarde wonneth't saye the w'rds we neede?"
The skunk gives an annoyed look at the shetlie for the interruption.
"If you let me finish, I would've told you tha' res'. Inside this li'le baby is also a miniature machine intelligence that can analyse tha' speech ov tha' target an' learn ta mimic it. She can say wawds that tha' target never did, an' no one would be any tha' wiser."
Their eyes widen at this. The shetlie speaks again.
"So, thou art declaring..."
"Indeed, I am. We jus' need to get several high rankin royal guards to blabber on abou' a ton ov shit, get them ta run through as many letters, their pronunciations, their context, an' their inflections, as we can. Tha' mawe this baby has ta work with, tha' better she can do tha' job."
Smiles grow across all the group.
"And then, I assume, we bringeth this evidence to the King and then he shall auth'rise us to crisp those folk out, leaving the stage f'r us to doth what needeth to beest done to ensureth the king wins this war?"
Geoffrey gives the cat a roguish smile.
"Righ' ya are, luv."
"Adjudant-général Prower, while I approuver of taking initiative, I must admettre I'm not sure where we would commencez our search."
The five individuals surrounding the table are engrossed in the maps and diagrams on the table in front of them.
"Well, Staff Sergeant Chéreau, I say we start by combing here."
He points and then circles an area to the northeast of Marves.
"Why?"
"Around six months ago, I noticed some strange movement records and simple notification pings coming from it. It was never more than that and with so much to handle I never found the time or interest to look into it. But now I think it could be useful to look into."
The jackal leans forward and stretches his arm to point to another location, this time northwest of Snottingham.
"I believe we should also send escouades here. The Ville Royale may not be la capitale anymore, but it still is an important location and a much stronger bastion of royaliste support. It's possible that they maintain their air power in the open plaine to its north."
"Agreed, Division General. We've got five squads and two locations, seems like a simple division."
The jackal nods to him.
"Adjudant-général Prower, vous and I will mener the search northeast of Marves. Sergents en chef Chéreau, Remy, and Landyn will effectuer the search northwest of Snottingham."
The five of them give their nods and they begin to part, heading to prepare their squads for their mission. Miles exits the tent, Edouard besides him. The Moon lays its silvery shine on the duo.
"It suits vous well."
"What does?"
"All this. War, command, soldatesque, so on and so on."
"I uh, don't know if I agree with that."
"I find that, although one can deny réalité, one cannot échapper the conséquences of denying réalité."
Miles looks away from Edouard and to the floor, thinking about it.
"Fine, let's say it does suit me, what's that supposed to mean?"
"I just find it intéressant. From what I know about vous, I would not suspect vous to find it such a natural fit."
"Wait, so fighting Robotonik and his hordes of machines and servants doesn't seem like the kinda thing that'd make someone fit for war?"
The jackal shrugs his shoulders.
"I guess it should, but I don't know. It juste seems very différent to what we're doing here. In that, there's one side that's sans équivoque in their evil and there's another side that is héroïque and totalement juste in how they acte."
And what if I'm tired of heroics? What if I want triumphs? What if I need final victories?
"Meanwhile here, both sides have good peuple in them and both sides have bad peuple in them. Brothers fight brothers, sons tuer their fathers, and fathers enterrer their sons. Even an adulte could be pardonné for seeing it all as géant mess and renoncer it all. But yet here vous are, a garçon who was raised in the précédent showing an instinctif aptitude for the latter."
Miles feels a sense of growing unease as Edouard continues this line of thought.
"It's like vous said, vous are not a stéréotype. A complex personne with plenty of varied interests and skills. Chantante being one of them as well, apparemment..."
At this, the fox turns his head back up and gives a playful jab into the jackal's shoulder.
"Shut it, you!"
Edouard cannot suppress the laughter that comes from his breast.
"I swear, I'm never gonna hear the end of that..."
"Non, non vous will not. But éclaircir up, Prower. Your chantante voix is very nice."
Miles can only emit a hushed growl in response.
Sally sits rather comfortably on her bed; her quarters are much roomier and pleasant than she would assume for a military vessel.
Wait, I'm the princess...
She groans at realising that once again her status as royalty follows her, she never can seem to escape it. Even among the Freedom Fighters back in early days, when Robotonik ruled all of Acorn and they were resigned to guerilla warfare, most everyone treated her differently. Well save for Sonic and-
Miles
Her already irritable mood now becomes downright vexed. However, she cannot begin spiraling down a long list of mental worries as her attention shifts to the sounds coming from outside her room, behind the solid steel door.
"And we'll fight and we'll conquer again and again!"
Ugh, that song again...
"Man, that was a helluva time! You crazies sure know how to have fun."
"Miss, respectfully, you're the crazy one here!"
The voices laugh passionately.
"Alright well I'll see you guys around. Stay out of trouble ya 'Pounders'!"
"With you on this ship? No promises, Miss."
As footsteps trail away, the great solid door emits a metallic cry and Amy enters into the room.
"Hey Sal! You okay?"
Oh damnit! Did I forget to change my face?
"Yea Amy, I'm just not used to being on airships, bit of a jarring experience. You seem like you're having fun."
She closes the door and sits on a bed opposite of Sally's.
"Oh you have no idea! These guys sure know how to have a good time. We walked along the edges of the flight deck, we took turns shooting at bottles and other junk we threw off into the air, we sang that song they played to us earlier, and I even went a few rounds with some of them in the gym. And they didn't hold back just cause I was a girl! At least not after I made it clear they shouldn't, but I think that's just cause I'm a civie and a guest. One of them gave me a really nasty right hook to my side."
She pulls up her dress and points to a bruised spot on the side of her torso.
"Oh, are you okay?"
"Okay? I'm fantastic! And these guys are just aviators; they said that marines are even more rough and rowdy!"
"I never would've guessed you'd speak highly of military life. All the order and regimen..."
"Yea that stuff kinda sucks, but when you get into the thick of it, I can only imagine that it's like being in a dream."
After a few seconds, her face assumes a look of dismay and she looks down.
"Amy, what's wrong?"
She rubs her arm and then her spine.
"Well I, I don't know. This time here, doing all this wicked fun stuff, it reminds me of what I was like before, well before..."
Sally gets up and goes to sit beside the pink hedgehog.
"Amy, you can tell me. I promise I won't judge you."
Her green irises look up into Sally's blue ones.
"Well, okay. It reminds me of what I was like before I met Sonic."
Sally's eyes widen immensely and she slightly leans back from her.
"Hey you promised me Princess."
"I guess I did. But what do you mean?"
"Well, I was always a bit, how you say, different, than most of the other girls."
"Oh and now you're just like all of us?"
"Hey, I might be having an emotional moment right now but that doesn't mean I'm not able to whack you, in fact it probably means the opposite."
"Case in point..."
"Yea, yea, whatever. Well anyways, I was always into fighting and all that 'boy' stuff, although I never really viewed it like that. I just saw, see it as fun. But then I heard about Sonic, then I met him, and, well you know. So I started slowly changing stuff about myself. I wouldn't say I'm a completely different person bu-"
"Oh, don't worry, you're still most assuredly a 'unique' individual."
"This 'unique individual' has got a pretty nasty hammer in store if you keep talkin'."
She raises her hands.
"Like I was saying, I wouldn't say I'm a totally different person, but I guess I lost track of how much I did change. All those little 'edits', I call them, added up more than I thought. But these guys, they don't really know me that well and since there was no one I did know really watching me, I kinda just reverted back to, I guess I'll call it my natural-me. You know what I mean?"
You have no idea
"Yes, I do. More than you can imagine, in fact."
The pink pluck crosses her arms, skeptical of this assertion.
"Oh yea? What do you, Princess Ms. Perfect, know about having to fit in? You're an incredible leader, you're royalty, everyone loves you, including him, and you just know what to do, always. Like even being on this ship was all due to you. When have you ever had to change or act different to who you are?"
"Every day."
The green irises move about in confusion.
"What?"
"Every day I have to put on an act. And I'm not just talking about pretending that I'm happy and okay ever since Miles left, no even before that. Everyone always treats me differently because I'm royalty; my father expects so much of me since he expects me to take all this up. In reality, all I want is to just be like everyone else, but I never get that, save for only two people. Well, with you it's three now. And I love that about all three of you."
Amy is dumbstruck and just sits there with her mouth open.
"Even this trip, I had to lie and pretend in layers. In truth, all I want is to find Miles again, but I know father would never approve of leaving the country just on non-state business, especially to look for him, so I lied. I pretended that I wanted to undertake a royal visit, to serve the realm, whatever the hell that actually means, and then I lied on top of that lie by acting as if I really just wanted to take a vacation in order to relax."
"Sal, I'm so sorry, I had no id-"
"Don't. You couldn't know, precisely because I didn't want you to. I'm not mad at you, well I am, but not for not knowing. I'm mad at you for doing the same thing I am. So here I am telling you right now, stop doing it, don't change yourself for anyone, ever. Be who you really are, no matter who you lose in the process. You know the history, now don't repeat it."
Amy sits in awe before Sally's words, she feels like she is receiving great wisdom from her mother when she was just a kid.
"I-, thanks Sal."
"Don't mention it. 'We're family, family sticks together and never gives up on one another'. A smart lady told me that once."
Amy smiles and the two share a hug. When they finally break it, Sally gives Amy an inquisitive look.
"You said you walked along the edge of the flight deck?"
Miles enters Noël's tent and is overcome with shock by the sight before him.
The Marshal, sleeping!
He slowly and silently walks over to his own cot and reaches into a bag and pulls out a camera.
I knew it! One day I'd catch you sleeping, and then I'd take a picture of you, and now you'll never be quite as grandiose in my eyes again
Miles aims the camera at the sleeping renard, a look of peace on his face that Miles never would think could belong on it. He looks through the camera and is about to press the button, to immortalise this moment. But his finger stops.
No, I won't
His finger backs off from the button and the camera lowers. He stares at the sleeping grey veteran. He slowly walks back to his cot and returns the camera exactly where he found it.
You'll always be grandiose in my eyes, always
He then slowly begins to walk to the exit of the tent. When he reaches the slip, he turns back and gazes at Noël.
Thank you, for being you