Disclaimer: *Sigh* Why do those dumb lawyers make us poor writers make these stupid things? Bah! Anyway, I don't own Miles 'Tails' Prowler or any of the StarFox team, although they are barely involved and Tails is almost my character (after I added a few touches to him).

Introduction: Well, my brain was kinda hyper after I played Sonic for about six hours straight at a friend's house AND watched 'We Were Soldiers' the other night, so I just decided to write something about our overshadowed Tails. Poor little guy; he doesn't get much attention. This is centered a bit more on StarFox than it is Sonic, so I'll just file it under StarFox. As always with my stories, this has no reference whatsoever to my other fictions. This is based on an alternate universe setting. Oh, don't worry, you don't have to know anything about Tails. Frankly, I don't know anything about him either.



"That's one nasty bruise," Amy said in a worried tone, "You might have something broken."

Tails pulled his arm away from Amy in disgust. Falco snorted as Tails dodged Amy's attempts at bandaging a shard wound. Everyone knew how much Tails hated being pampered over because of a simple cut. Falco wouldn't mind that from a lady, but Tails... He was a different story to be told.

"Stop it!" Tails screamed as Amy caught his paw in her own vice grip. She took the roll of medical bandage from her pocket and ripped off a string, although the little puncture of skin wasn't anything a Band-Aid couldn't handle. She purposely tied it really tight just to watch Tails flinch, "Ow!"

"Wuss," Falco sneered. Tails gave him a glare. Falco shrugged it off, "And what kind of name is Marcus? Sounds like something from Shakespeare."

"For your information, Lieutenant Lombardi, the name Marcus is derived from the Roman emperor, Marcus Arailius. I thought it sounded dashing," Tails added as an afterthought, "Besides, officially, Miles Prower is dead. A Venomian corporal who was on the run from prison camp shot him. The corporal himself was killed later in a bombing."

"Ah, call yourself Major-General Hans if you like, but the fact remains: Miles Prower framed his death," Amy grinned, "He was never shot. What he was hit by was a stun gun."

"Hey, that's G-14 classified information, ma'am," Falco joked, "Besides, Private Prower didn't frame his death; I did it for him."

Amy gave him a little slap over the top of his head, telling him that there was no such thing as G-14 classified. Falco shrugged anyway. They wouldn't dare talk like this in public. For all they knew, the person sitting at the next table in a burger restaurant might be a spy or an assassin.

"What's the briefing on the next mission, Falco?" Tails asked, fidgeting his arm uncomfortably in his bandages. Amy thought it would be funny to wrap him up like an Egyptian mummy.

"He wouldn't know," Amy said coldly, "He was out at a bar when General Peppy called in."

Falco's blush was visible even through his blue plumage. Scratching his head in shame, Falco started to file folders and stack them in a cabinet in their small apartment. The general thought downtown was the most discreet place possible for their operations. No one ever came there, and anyone who actually lived there was considered either crazy or half- brained. Either way, the fact remains; the place was a filthy rat hole, especially with an old mouse lady running the place.

"So?" Tails drawled, trying to get an inoffensive answer from an offensive hedgehog. Strangely enough, Amy had a tough attitude and a shopping addiction to match. The two, one anti-girly and the other being complete feminine, actually suited Amy, in a way.

"We need to stall a illegal weapons transporter," Amy shrugged, "Not a big deal. We're just going to be there so he doesn't try anything stupid when the patrols come up. We also need to verify what he's got."

"You're forgetting something," Falco piped up in a singsong voice. Amy rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. The mission is taking place on a luxury frigate," Amy sighed, as if being on a cruise was her last idea of fun. In Tails' mind, the word frigate and the adjective luxury didn't go together, but this was Amy. Everything she thought had something to do with war.

"Aloha-oi, aloha-oi," Falco sung. Amy shut him up with a whack over the head with a rolling pin from the kitchen drawer.

"First of all, you're off-key. Second, we're not going to the Hawaiian Islands. We're going to the Bering Islands, halfway from the planet on where the Hawaiian Islands are," Amy sighed at Falco's ignorance, "Romantic, but not with this guy around."

**First person Krystal**

I quickly got a room at a hotel, hopefully not attracting too much attention. It was a cheap one, well within my expense rate, but it was cozy and comfortable nonetheless. The first thing that popped into my mind as I flopped down on the double bed was to open a few of the going away presents from my friends back on Zoness.

You're probably wondering how I got those when I was teleporting. It's quite easy, actually. All I had to do was to cancel my half-destroyed apartment and force the landlady to mail me all of my stuff. The carriers only took a day, since warp drive is possible without the gravitational interference of our sun.

I kicked off my shoes (bought those) and snuggled up warmly on the bed. Outside, the occasional hover car went zooming by below on the street. I could also hear the soft thwacks of someone playing tennis downstairs in the court, but it was nearly inaudible anyway. The room was small, with just one cabinet, a bedside table, a little TV, a couch, and a bed. I had to go down the hall to use the bathroom.

Most of the presents came in forms of wishing-well cards and little trinkets like the pens that I used and a little bobble-head figure of our boss that he made himself. But one envelope from Al was particularly heavy and thick. Curious, I opened that immediately, to find something I truly didn't expect.

'Fortuna is really cold, so I thought you might want to take a vacation somewhere. I thought of here on Zoness would be the best, but you're probably bored of this place anyway. So, from us all (but from my wallet), is this little ship ticket that should warm you up. Hope you don't mind having to pay the fare to Corneria!'

I smiled and turned back to the ticket. It was a thick booklet with a laser-printed, black and white ticket for the Bering Islands on Corneria. The cruise was to include three stops around the main ocean and five days of ocean spray. I've always liked the ocean, even though I never got a chance to properly sail it. Sure, I've got the occasional wind boat ride from a dog or cat that was flirting with me, but a real cruise! I could hardly conceal my excitement.

My worries about the Venomians on my heels just vanished in that instant. The ticket had no expiration date, although Al probably wanted the cruise for a few months ago. I wanted to go as soon as possible, since Corneria had the most clean and fine oceans, next to Zoness, of course.

I jumped out of my bed instantly. Being a girl, after all, I needed something to wear. My smile twitched for a moment as I realize that I had to buy something, and the stores won't be open until tomorrow. Oh, well, the cruise is tomorrow, too, so I guessed I don't have to panic about leaving that night. I was dead tired, anyway, so I just laid back and slept. Two things happening in the same second... That must be a record.

**

"Um, um, you a fox, right?" The little pup at the ticket booth near the edge of the ship asked, standing on the tip of his toes to see over the counter. I guessed he was no older than seven years old, but hey, lots of little kids find jobs these days.

"Yeah," I smiled. He returned the smile, but on his little sheet of paper to keep track of the passengers, he marked a tally on the category labeled "Faukz" in messy scribbles, next to "Daugz" and "Katz". He must've had a problem figuring out the O's in his writing. I noticed that there weren't many passengers aboard. I estimated only a hundred on the massive ship. Most people went to the Hawaiian Islands at this time of year. The rarest species on the ship must've been the avian race, because in even messier writing, the column "Falken" was put in, scrunched at the edge of the paper, looking like it was added as a last ditch attempt to fit everything on one piece of ironed fiber. There was only one tally on the crudely drawn rectangle. I really didn't understand why he couldn't use a laptop.

"Yep. You've got cabin number fifty-six on the, uh, C-deck," he scowled a bit as his pen fell off the counter. As he went to retrieve it, I heard a string of mild curses along with bangs and shaking. He got up a second later and mumbled something in his British accent. I was shaking with laughter myself as I boarded the metal plank up to the big ship, the afternoon ocean spray in my hair and splashing onto my case. Truly something bad has to come out of something this good, I thought. I was both wrong and right.

**

I saw him first the night of the second day.

The ship hadn't stopped anywhere yet, but an island paradise was scheduled for the next morning and another one was set for the next afternoon. The sea was still as salty as ever and the waves still beat on the hull near my cabin. I guess I just had to get a drink.

My throat was parched, probably because I ate too much salted fish that afternoon. Throwing back the silk covers on the queen-sized bed, I stumbled to flick the light on. Rubbing my eyes furiously, I squinted against the harsh 60-watt bulb. Oak furniture was all there was. There was an oak cabinet, oak bedside table, oak-framed closet space, oak bed frame, and an oak chair. Outside the little pothole on the side of the metallic cabin, I saw that there was a fierce storm brewing.

I jiggled the knob on my door a few times before I realized I had locked it. I fumbled with the lock handle with my tired fingers and it unlocked with another click. Still half-asleep, I wandered upstairs to the A-deck for a drink of water. I hardly felt the cold metal floor against my bare feet until I slipped and tripped on the carpet to the dining room.

"Hey, you okay?" A guy asked near the bar. I picked myself up, still half-asleep, and waved him off with a shake of my paw. I didn't even look at him. Lucky for me, I had my nightgown on; or else I'd be the laughing stock of the ship.

Groggily, I got a plastic cup and filled it by the water barrel (the plastic kind). Gulping it down, it hardly made me less sleepy. I think I drank four cups before I tossed the cup away into the garbage, but you don't really keep track when your eyes are puffy and you're miserable with joint pain.

Maybe I fell asleep halfway back to my cabin, but at some point, I stumbled outside. The cold rain and the howling wind beating at my face sure woke me up that time. Shivering uncontrollably, I cursed myself for eating three pounds of salt-dried tuna. Wave after wave pounded against the starboard side of the ship. Every time Mother Nature did so, the ship rocked violently and the ocean water splashed on my face. It wasn't long before I got soaked both of rainwater and saltwater.

Reaching behind me, I cursed again as I found out that the door was locked to the outside. I sneezed twice and slipped on the freezing deck. I fell hard on my bottom and my back slammed into the door. I felt my eyes water with pain.

The thunder clapped.

Lightening lit up the skies.

There on the bow of the ship, right at the edge of the railing, was a figure.

The flash of light in the darkness lighted up a figure whose face was unseen, but his orange fur was visible for just a fraction of a second, his pointy ears twitching at the loud thunder.

His two tails were swishing idly in the rain.

**

A/N: And that just tells you how this little cruise is gonna get more complicated. Woo-hoo! I know the last part was a bit cheesy, but my head wasn't screwed on right at the moment.