Adrenaline pumped through his veins. The only thing on his mind was getting away, fast, and this objective was regarded with the utmost urgency. The green above him and the specks of blue that dotted the natural ceiling were blurred. He saw only a blur, and more space ahead for the taking. Finally his feet touched the ground, his heart still pounding. "Keep running!" he shouted, releasing the grips on his arms and not stopping a beat. The second he realized he was no longer airborne was the second his feet started bounding forward.
He looked back to see that his friends, Espio especially, could not keep up, exhausted. He saw no signs of his enemies but knew that they were not safe.
Knuckles stopped and allowed his friends to catch up.
"Where's Vector?" asked Knuckles.
"Last I saw him, he was running," Mighty responded between quick breaths. "He told me to run, but a robot caught me. I think he got away. He was pretty far off when the robot shot me."
"But who knows where he is now," Knuckles responded, and then he looked up abruptly, having had an epiphany. "I almost forgot about Charmy. What happened to him?"
Mighty replied, "I'm sure he got away. They might not have even noticed hi—"
Espio cut him off. He too appeared to have had an epiphany. "Wait, I just realized something. The direction Vector went in… I'm pretty sure the airship was in that direction."
"Damn, if he went there… I'm sure the robots will find him there," said Knuckles.
Espio concurred. "They might even already be waiting for him."
"Let's go."
Vector was tall and agile. His agility had saved him before, and only because of it had he escaped. Now he was relegated to sneaking around, concealing his self and his advances, yet advancing. Where was it, again? Vector was trying to remember where they had left the ship. It should be around here somewhere. If he found it, he was sure it would allow him to escape, and perhaps even find his friends.
Vector spotted the airship on the platform above, a hundred yards or so away. He halved that distance, and then leaped high into the air, just barely high enough for him to grab onto the edge of the platform. He pulled himself up and clambered to his feet. Now he was heading for the airship, hastening his step until he was almost sprinting toward what could be a miracle. The oasis disappeared. He was fifteen yards away, and then a rumbling sound seemed to come out of nowhere. A small patrol ship lifted out of its hiding place in the leaves of the highest canopies and then quickly thrust itself zooming over Vector's head. Two, now three, now four SWATbots jumped out of the ship and landed but a few yards behind him. He quickly became panicked, and renewed his chase for the airship. He was so close. The airship was but a few feet away, and he was reaching for the door. It wouldn't open. Hurriedly, with the SWATbots behind him closing the gap, Vector tried again to open the door. He tried again and again. It wouldn't open. Vector continued his futile attempts to open the door, when all of a sudden the door answered his incessant requests, sliding open.
It was not long before this that Knuckles, Espio, and Mighty had reached the scene. They stood from a lower vantage point, looking up at Vector and the airship and the robots. They watched Vector panicking in his hurry to open the door of the airship. When finally the door slid open, the mirage revealed its true colors. Vector was overjoyed when the door slid open, but this joy was to be short-lived, as an arm from inside the airship clubbed Vector, sending him sprawling backward. The SWATbots that had been behind him were now at him and they wasted no time in apprehending him.
Knuckles' silence was quickly breached; he instinctively cried "No!" as he took a step toward the base of the walkway upon which Vector was trapped. Knuckles regretted his subconsciously-driven outcry as soon as it had passed his lips. From inside the airship, a SWATbot emerged and fired on Knuckles, as the SWATbots holding Vector pulled him to his feet and forced him inside the airship which he had so deeply desired to reach. Now he was inside it, and the taste was bittersweet. The SWATbot that had come from inside the airship did not fire upon Knuckles again; it proceeded back into the airship from which it had come. There was one SWATbot still on the walkway, however; it assumed the task of its last-departed brethren – rather, its clone which knew not even its own double as any more than its designation of ally – in firing upon Knuckles. The door to the airship slid closed, and Knuckles was using his namesake knuckles to claw his way up the nearest beam supporting the walkway, which he was quickly upon. He turned to face the remaining SWATbot and delivered to it his fist, sending it crashing from the walkway onto the ground below. Knuckles quickly turned to face the airship, but it was now hovering and beginning to lift off. Knuckles threw himself at the airship, yelling "No, stop!" but he could gain no traction in its metallic shell with which to sink his fists. As the airship lifted abruptly, Knuckles slid from its rounded body and fell on his back on the walkway. The airship rose higher and higher; Knuckles tried in vain to reach out for it, but was left lying on his back with his arm outstretched and his eyes wide, as if hoping just the wish of the thing would bring the thing itself.
The cliff overlooked a grand, behemothic ravine, a thin canyon, running like a deep river of sand and dust in the desert. The cliff was steep, and its height immense, the ravine far-reaching and profound in its depth.
From their vantage-point atop the cliff, the three could see far and wide across and into the ravine. They were as if perched upon the peak of legendary Olympus, unseen, unexpected, yet with broad, scopious vision, much-seeing. The azure had faded, now morose and gray. The clouds were now much more densely-packed in the sky, and the sun could have been seen on its latter descent had it not been obscured by the cover of clouds.
From this acme, their post, a clear view was to be had of the scout tent below. They lay on their bellies so as to not make their change of the shape of the terrain so apparent, hoping their narrow silhouettes would go unnoticed by the enemy below given their distance.
"Looks like the robots set up that camp," observed Mighty, pointing to the tent below, before which, a SWATbot could be seen standing.
"Yeah, well, do we have any ideas yet?" asked Espio.
"Wasn't it to get away from these robots?" asked Mighty, scratching his head.
"We have to find Vector," said Knuckles, without shifting his gaze from its forward-locked position.
"Yeah, well, we haven't any idea where they took him," said Mighty, frustrated.
"Perhaps we can find a clue in their camp," replied Knuckles, still staring blankly ahead.
"And be found? C'mon, Knux, don't we want to get as far from them as we can? Not chase them."
"They'll find us anyway."
"Yeah, well, maybe we'll have thought of a plan by then," said Espio in retort.
Knuckles snapped his head to face his audience now for the first time.
"I just realized… we don't have to confront them after all."
"That's what I said."
"No, no, I mean that Espio can get into their tent invisible, right?"
"Don't you think they'd notice the tent being opened by a ghost?"
"Well, maybe I can lure them away from the tent."
"But then we're back to confronting them."
"Maybe, maybe not. Best case is they won't find me. Worst case, they will, but at least I'll have a strategic advantage if I can see them before they can see me."
"Well…"
"Look, I'm not going to argue with you guys. If you guys aren't with me, I'll do this alone."
Knuckles wasted no time in defending his commitment to his words, moving across the edge of the cliff, and then commencing his descent into the ravine once he was far enough laterally from the camp below.
Espio reluctantly followed the headstrong echidna's lead. Mighty, conceding to Espio's decision to follow, did the same.
Knuckles reached the ground a safe distance from the campsite and paused, knowing smugly that his friends would be joining him shortly. He was right, and he looked back nonchalantly as he heard the sound of an impact upon the dirt just behind him, turning to see Espio, and then Mighty, as expected.
"Er, what exactly was the plan again?" asked Mighty, pulling himself up from having hit the ground.
"And what exactly am I looking for inside the tent?" asked Espio.
Knuckles, as before, did not shift his forward glance as he said, "We'll find out once we're inside."
"We?" snapped Espio. "How are you going to get inside? My cloak can get me in, but not you! I thought the plan was—"
"There was a plan?" smirked Knuckles.
"Oh, great," sighed Espio. "So you never really were going to try to avoid a confrontation?"
"What's the fun in that?" smiled Knuckles, cocking his head.
Mighty just cupped his forehead in his palms, shaking his head.
"There's no reasoning with you," said Espio somewhat snidely, but as between friends.
"Let's go!" yelled Knuckles, knowing his friends wouldn't be left behind.
That summons escaped his lips and transformed him. Something within was awakened; he was changed. A single point of focus within his encumbered mind overwhelmed him, and he could see nothing else.
Knuckles leaped to his feet in a blind rage. Lacking any peripherality, his focus was singular, as before. He was alone. There was nothing, for nothing he saw. The world was invisible, and he, invincible. Nothing but him and his mind and his singularity and his fury. Nothing.
Footsteps. He heard footsteps. But he saw nothing. The echoing, echoing taps, discreet sounds; they had no form; they were linked to no body. Footsteps and emptiness. They were behind him? He could not even remember the course of the only-then-passed minutes, so blinded and alone in his own projection of the world he was.
He felt the threats without sight, blindly sensing and dodging them. He sensed all, yet saw none, for in his eyes he was alone and the world was his own. In the air, now he was scaling an invisible wall. Yet was the line blurring? Was it invisible, or was it not there at all? Was this blindness, or rage, or was it concentration?
He was scaling, then leaping, then clobbering the air and hearing the metallic air hit the ground; hit the ground, the metallic air. Time stood. When he reawoke, they were all on the ground. The invisible hand had restored his sight, and he was alone, yet not; there were others but they were all felled, and so, surrounded, he was alone. He could see, but he was still blind. Still blind.
A thought: they? Where were they? This thought pierced his seeing blindness; yet it meant little; to it he asked: who are 'they'?
An epiphany: he knew. His companions, 'they;' where were they?
On the ground. A rush, and it all comes back. Moaning, they rise, hands on their heads, and he lets loose a sigh of relief, pent up deep within; seconds earlier, he had known nothing, but now he knew and felt and was relieved, helping them to their feet.
"What happened?"
"It seemed as if you weren't even hearing us!"
"I don't know."
"What?"
"I was gone... I -- forgot."
"Forgot what?"
"You... everything. It was all -- gone."
"Are you okay?"
He shook his head, and then sighed. "Fine now." He walked. Then he pulled open the tent.
I don't think he was really fine.
Knuckles was inside the tent now, prying around. He himself didn't even know really what he was doing; his actions were subconsciously fueled. He was feeling maddened but he didn't know what it was – a plague inside his mind; something was there. He tried to keep himself busy to drown out whatever was there in his head and not let it reach prominence.
"Knuckles, are you sure you're okay?" Espio stepped into the tent, followed by Mighty.
"You're acting really strange."
"I'm fine, I said. Either make yourselves useful or be quiet."
"What's the big deal? It's not like there's a bomb ticking away; it's not like there's a timer we have to race against."
Knuckles seemed to grow angry at these words, and perhaps would have responded in rage had he not found something else to speak of.
He held up a sheet of paper he had found on the table at the back of the tent.
"'Robotnik Empire,' it says." Knuckles pointed to the top of the page.
"Yeah?"
"Is that supposed to mean something to me?"
"I don't know. 'Robotnik.' 'Robotnik.' For some reason, the word sounds familiar to me, but I can't remember where I heard it."
Espio now walked over to the table and rummaged through the papers still lying there.
Espio, after a time, held up another paper. "This looks interesting."
It, like many of the papers on the table, was also labeled "Robotnik Empire" at the top.
"'Classified level three document,'" read Mighty, scanning the page Espio held up. "'Project UA-1, Brief 2, Level 3' … 'Preliminary: Armies will be deployed upon the Floating Island.' … 'Immediate Mission: Scout area. Apprehend any resistance. Subject 882 should be taken alive.' … 'This document is only a rough overview of the context of your mission and your current objectives. Officers with a sufficient security clearance can obtain more information on this operation via the data terminals connected to the Robotropolis network. Those without proper security clearance will carry out their given objectives without question. This document is dated: 32350600024.'"
Espio handed the page to Knuckles and turned back to his rummaging.
Knuckles glanced over the page. "'Armies will be deployed upon the Floating Island.' That sure sounds like what happened."
Mighty frowned. "That paper says almost nothing, in so many words. 'Project UA-1?' 'Subject 882,' 'data terminals connected to the Robotropolis network.' Does it help us? What does it mean?"
Espio, while continuing to look at the papers on the table, shouted in response, "I think it's supposed to keep even whoever it's intended for in the dark; it just tells them what they need to do, with very little of 'why.'"
Knuckles frowned. "'Robotnik Empire' – I know I've heard that name before."
"There doesn't seem to be anything else relevant in this pile," said Espio, turning from the table. "Oh, wait—" Espio caught sight of a tray by the entrance. In it, more pages. Espio raised them to the zenith.
"'Subject 1239'" read Espio from the second leaf. "'This document is dated: 3235060027' … 'Status: Apprehended.' … 'Identified as: order crocodilian.' … 'Notes: may be of strategic benefit, esp. in regards to apprehension of subject 882 and/or fulfillment of UA-1 commit L (those of sufficient clearance may find more on commit L at data terminal location entropy:oper\ua1\9192\commit\81\L1cc as of this writing).'"
"'order crocodilian.'"
"Yeah, I think it's Vector too."
"What does that mean: 'may be of strategic benefit'? What do they want with him?"
"'especially in regards to apprehension of subject 882…' What's subject 882?"
"They want Vector to get at someone else?"
"If it's one of us—"
"Knuckles?"
Knuckles didn't even hear.
"If it's Knuckles, then they want us to go after Vector. It's a trap."
"Oh!" Heads turned to find that it was Knuckles' exclamation.
"What?"
"I just remembered…"
"Damnit, Knuckles, stop it with that."
"—where I heard 'Robotnik.'"
"Haven't you even been listening? What if this whole thing's a trap?"
"That hedgehog; I'm pretty sure that hedgehog said 'Robotnik.'"
"What hedgehog?! Are you sure you're okay, Knuckles?"
"He's not okay; it doesn't matter what he says."
Knuckles ignored it. "But what did he say about 'Robotnik'?" He was speaking to himself.
"Who gives a damn?"
Knuckles started, as if woken from a daze within a daze. He was in a concentric ring of stupors, each layer of it coming off on its own time. How deep did the circle go? Knuckles reached as if to confront the bringer of the jagged-edge words.
Espio reached in and stopped it. "You're not there, Knuckles. I think you should rest. Something's happened; you're not well."
Knuckles, eyes full of rage, turned about face and stood.
"You should really get some rest; you're not well."
Knuckles didn't respond.
Mighty and Espio looked at each other, and then at Knuckles.
"He said Robotnik was behind this, and he was right."
Knuckles turned around, the anger gone from his eyes. "He was right."
"Who?"
"The hedgehog; we should find him; he was right."
"The hedgehog?"
"The hedgehog was there when we were attacked, and when we lost Vector… and Charmy. He said he was on our side, that Robotnik was our enemy both."
"Well, how are we supposed to find him?"
"Assuming he's real," said Mighty with a wink as he elbowed Espio in jest.
Knuckles wasn't amused. "He's real. I'm not that lost."
"You sure?"
Knuckles lowered his head and nodded, perhaps not that lost, but still far from fine.
"Alright, well, how are we supposed to find him?"
"I don't know," said Knuckles somberly. "What do you suggest we do?"
"Hell if I know."
"Then let's just start looking."
"For what, where?"
Now yelling: "Would you rather just sit here?"
A sigh.
"Let's get started." Knuckles started to the wide open, the outside.
They had no better idea, thus following him, albeit with hesitation.
The sky would have been dark if it could have been seen, but one might mistake the dark clouds for the dark sky they veiled. A double-edged sword, they were, perhaps keeping from the enemy's sight, or perhaps keeping the enemy from sight. Perhaps it was hard to see, and perhaps the advice given – "you should really get some rest" – should have been heeded, yet they had no direction; they headed opposite from the compass side from which they had come, yet knew not any more of what was there than "air we haven't breathed yet today," and maybe it didn't matter how well they could see for they would be walking blind even if it were under daylight.
Knuckles, not knowing his destination by anything but "forward," had other things on his mind. What was it that caused him to zone out? He had, back at the camp, gone into an empty daydream; it seemed empty, at least. Was it empty? Or could Knuckles just not remember what it was that had drawn all his focus away from the rest of the world subconsciously? Knuckles was vexed; something had been bothering him so much that it had made everything else disappear, while still letting Knuckles see everything through his mind's eye – and now he couldn't even remember what it was. Maybe, he thought, he didn't ever know – not even during the daydream. Perhaps there was no real thing that had caused him to go mad – as his friends had insinuated; maybe it was just an emptiness in him. Knuckles was now slightly convinced that the thing which had filled him with blinding adrenaline was, at least in part, an emptiness inside of him; it made sense to him, since he couldn't remember what it was, that it was an emptiness, and that was why there was nothing to remember. Doubtlessly it had been exacerbated by the obvious tension and danger born from the armies appearing on the island, and the splitting up of his group.
What was this emptiness? Knuckles realized he had many. He had not seen his parents since his childhood. The Floating Island had once been home to many civilizations; Knuckles did not even remember what moment in time had been the turning point of their disappearance; had they disappeared, or had Knuckles just lost them and didn't know where to look? He was the guardian of the island's emeralds, which served to keep it afloat, yet he had no guidance. He knew no other echidnas, but was sure he had remembered seeing other echidnas when he was young. When was the last time he had seen his father? And why was his father gone?
Knuckles' thoughts were interrupted by a jab in his side, Mighty's elbow, which got his attention. "Look," said Mighty, pointing.
Knuckles looked to see what Mighty was pointing at. Espio did too, and remarked with surprise, "Is that Vector?"
Mighty nodded and said, "I thought so too, so I guess if we both saw the same thing…"
"We have to go to him, now!" Knuckles cried, almost pathetically, as he started in the direction Mighty had pointed. Espio raised his arm to stop Knuckles.
"Didn't you hear us talking back at the camp? They're waiting for you; it's a trap!"
Knuckles was more impatient and pitiful than he was angry, as he shouted, "We won't get another chance like this! We have to go! We might never find him again if we don't go now!" Knuckles pushed Espio's restraining arm aside.
"This is too easy, Knuckles; they'd never make it this easy on accident; they're waiting for you! They're ready for you. If you go, you're just playing right into their hand!"
Knuckles turned. "Then how are we supposed to save Vector? It'll always be a trap. They'll always be waiting."
Mighty sighed. "Knuckles…"
"If you've got any bright ideas, let's hear 'em," snapped Knuckles.
"I don't think there's anything we can do that they won't be expecting."
"That's bullshit. There's something. There's always a way! We can't just leave Vector!"
"Don't fall for their trap, Knuckles. If you can just keep yourself safe for now, next time they probably won't be expecting us; figure something happened to us since we didn't show up here today."
The immense weight on Knuckles' mind was clearly visible, and his inability to accept impossibility was radiating from his face. It was clear that to Knuckles, walking away was simply not something he knew.
"Knuckles, just trust me. We'll save Vector, but not now."
Knuckles couldn't, but he forced his mind to give up its hopeless want, and consented disheartedly, still unable to give up his inner want – no, his inner need to run and save his captured companion, but forcing himself to act contrary to his mind's volition.
"Let's get some rest," said Espio, with a breath of relief that Knuckles had finally backed down.
Knuckles was rudely ousted from his much-needed sleep. His eyes shot open and he was immediately drowned in bright sunlight; his eyes did not expect this light and he instinctively squinted to keep out the unforeseen light.
The surprise of light from such deep darkness, in taking Knuckles' focus, had overtaken the surprise of his abrupt awakening.
He was now reminded of this, and made aware of what it had been that ended his sleep – a persistent commotion, and an occasional sharp loud noise; the latter must have been what had awaken him. Espio had still been sleeping, but when the sound came again, he too was quickly taken from his sleep on the floor, hopefully concealed. Knuckles roused Mighty, who was still dosing, from his sleep.
"What was that?" asked Espio, with a degree of jumpiness but also a level of tiredness.
"I don't know, but I hope it's not the robots," responded Knuckles.
"I wouldn't get your hopes up," said Mighty with a justified level of tentative apprehension.
Each noise over the unnatural commotion resounded like an alarm being set off again and again.
One sound arose from the muddled commotion which formed words: "Priority Four. Subject 882 within range."
A pause, and then Espio whispered, "'Subject 882' – that's the same one as from the paper; it must be one of us."
Mighty added, "Knuckles."
Knuckles heard this, and, having had zoned out during the conversation at the camp, was confused. "Me?"
"Maybe not, but I think 882 is you, Knux."
"Shit, they know I'm here?"
The truth of this statement hit home and Espio now realized the gravity of the situation, now alarmed. "Oh, damn."
This was loud enough to draw some attention from the commotion, but not loud enough to give away their position.
"Echidna, surrender now and be given leniency."
"Shit."
"If we run, they'll see us!"
"Idiot, if we sit here, they'll find us!"
"I'm an idiot now? It's true they'll see us if we run!"
"No time."
Knuckles made a mad dash in the direction away from the commotion, which he did not turn to see; he had heard them, and that was enough. Mighty and Espio wasted no time in following suit.
"882 is in motion. Acquiring target."
Knuckles was mumbling to himself, running as fast as his legs could carry him.
He heard a cry, and instinctively turned back, to see that Mighty had fallen to the ground. Robots were all but upon him. Knuckles abandoned his great fervor for escape and, without even thinking, raced back toward his friend. The robots got there first. One robot pulled Mighty to his feet and held both his wrists in one hand, holding Mighty to its metallic body with its other arm. The robot stepped back, and another figure stepped forward, as if to take its place. This figure was different. As it stepped forward, it became clear that it was not a robot like the others. It was a beast with a large, well-built figure and a great mane. It had a metallic earpiece and a metallic circlet which wrapped about its forehead.
It spoke: "Echidna, I bring news from the lord. He, our lord, wants only an audience with you. Should you cooperate with his demands, your friends will be freed."
"Who are you?" roared Knuckles. "Who is your lord, and what does he want from me?"
"I am a general of Lord Robotnik's great army. He will discuss his terms with you personally. You shall agree to meet with him or the safety of this armadillo cannot be guaranteed." The beast gestured toward Mighty, and the robot holding him aimed its weapon at his head.
"Rest assured," the beast general said, "you will be unharmed. Lord Robotnik needs you alive."
Knuckles was, by nature, unable to allow himself to consciously put one in danger, especially a friend. Perhaps this was a flaw, but who can judge? In any case, Knuckles yielded to his nature and nodded his head silently.
"Good," said the beast-general. The robot holding Mighty escorted the armadillo away, and Knuckles followed. Espio was nowhere to be seen. The beast turned and ordered, "return to the Gathering or your last outpost. This mission is finished." The robots dispersed at his will, and the general followed the robot that held Mighty. Knuckles followed the beast. They didn't walk for long before coming to an airship with the seal of the Empire emblazoned on its side. The door slid open and they filed in: the general, the robot, Mighty in its tow, and then the guardian echidna. The door slid shut.
"Lord Robotnik will speak with you soon," said the beast-general.
There were several robots that had been waiting in the airship before the general's return. One of them was at the helm, and the ship's engines fired up. It disappeared beyond the rainclouds, which now began to cry, as their tears slowly started falling, gradually more, until the world beneath them braced itself against a torrent of the heavens' tears.