30 Days of Sonic Prompt 17: Discovery
Media: Sonic Riders Series
Genies, Aliens, What's Next for Us?
"So, aliens."
It came out as a statement rather than a question. Jet sat in his armchair, the leather creaking underneath him as he adjusted his posture. He drummed his fingers against the side of his beak, focusing on the thick gray clouds passing by the window of their airship at high speeds.
The beeping from Wave's holographic monitor temporarily stopped. Jet glanced over at her, finding that she had stopped tapping on the screen. She looked at him with her brow arched, her hand slowly lowering from her computations, her silent query already understood by Jet.
He sighed. "I mean, we thought we descended from genies. Now, aliens are our true ancestors? Isn't that too much?"
Wave tapped her utility gem, and the screen vanished. "Well, those are the facts. It isn't like our parents knew much about our history besides what was passed down in storytelling and recovered texts," she said, crossing her arms. "In fact, I believe we've learned more about our past than any prior iteration of the Babylon Rogues. We should be grateful for the knowledge that they lacked."
Jet tilted his head upward. The portrait of his father leered down at him. The colors of the oil paint had faded, but his gaze remained firm on his son. His eyes narrowed, the deep silver hue not at all dulled compared to the washed-out colors of the sky and mountains.
Itching through his head feathers, Jet pushed himself out of his seat. He trekked over to the window, hands folded behind his back. The clouds raced onward, and he felt the wind on his skin, a sensation through muscle memory alone when he directed his attention to his Extreme Gear.
If he considered everything that had happened to him, he might have believed it was all an elaborate dream. The circumstances of his ancestors, their history filled with tragic consequences, seemed like a work of fiction. They had dreamed of soaring through the same skies, but unlike Jet, they wished to break free from the atmosphere and return home to the cosmos light years behind his understanding to a world that might no longer exist.
He didn't discount the coinciding truths. But they each seemed impossible to comprehend. When he ruminated about the depths of his ancestors' anguish as they languished on the planet Jet called home, he shook his head and let his mind wander to something greedy or exhilarating. Advanced technology, spaceships, and even the blood of his ancestors flowing through his veins dizzied him, his head feeling so full of information that it would break with a light tap to the crown of his skull.
When he focused on gold or racing, he didn't have to contemplate. He simply allowed the wind to guide him and commanded it when necessary. Unlike his ancestors, he was free with the planet as his oyster with countless glimmering pearls scattered around him.
Wave approached him and stared out the window. She pressed her hand on the glass, chuckling. "Though, it is strange, isn't it? Genies, aliens, they're the stuff of myths and science fiction," she admitted, with a slow shake of her head. "In all my years of tuning Gears and stealing gems, I never thought we'd conclude that about our heritage."
Jet puffed out a laugh. "Your dad would've blown a gasket if he heard anyone mention the bit about genies."
"Well, it does make those lessons relevant." At his confused hum, she rolled her eyes. "Our three true wishes, remember? It's like what a genie grants," she said, extending three fingers. "Honestly, Storm yaks on about it whenever I want to borrow something from him. It's like he won't let me forget that idiom."
"More like he's saying it to get a rise out of you," Jet replied, smirking, but his expression fell when he noticed something peculiar.
A black scar carved itself through the clouds. Moonlight filtered through the wound, its rays like glittering diamonds. As the clouds moved and revealed the night sky, the crescent moon split through the darkness. It reminded Jet of a lighthouse guiding weary travelers home, encouraging them that they almost succeeded in finding sanctuary and only needed to continue on their journey to its end.
He wondered if the same notion crossed the minds of previous leaders of the Babylon Rogues. If they had known about the truths, then they might have considered leaving the world for the sake of venturing to the one their forefathers abandoned. But Jet crossed his arms and dipped his head, squinting at the corner of the window where dust had collected from weeks of him refusing to clean.
"This planet is our home," he said with as much conviction as he could muster, "and I'm not giving it up to anything."
Wave nodded, offering him a smile. "Especially not to a black hole, right?"
He threw his head back and laughed. Levity filled him from head to toe, and if he could channel it as energy, he'd fly across the room. "Exactly! As if space could ever have enough treasure to satisfy me! Or cure my need for speed when this world has everything I want to steal and more!" he proclaimed, and he snatched his Extreme Gear, throwing it to the floor. As it hovered, he hopped onto it, propelling himself to the doors. "C'mon, Wave, I'm up for a nightly raid! Let's get Storm out of bed and pull off a smash and grab!"
"Well, it might be late, but it's nice seeing you take charge for once," she scolded, but her smile tugged at her beak.
Cackling, Jet thrust forward on his board, blowing open the doors and speeding down the hallway. His desire for thrills fueled him, pushing him onward to their next adventure, one which would be grander than the last. He pulled down his goggles, the wind gusting past his ears as he shot for their exit port, the anticipation of what was to come making him grin so hard his cheeks ached.