Well, some corrections today. The time would have to be around 2160, not 2050. Sorry, I typed without double-checking it. And again- I should be typing on other stories right now, but I felt like doing this instead, so here I am.
To Ri2, Yes, I admit that the plot is 'out there' but that's what makes the story special. There isn't a plot like this in all of Sonic archive. Trust me, I researched. And you guessed right about the planet. I guess the clues weren't as subtle as I thought they were. (sweat-drop) I hope thousands of reader's don't go rushing off towards the reviews, ruining the surprise...
"Dear U.S.S. Nottingham,"
"The contents in your review are ever so truthful- slavery is a horrid and abusive thing, and believe it to be so or cast it aside; Sonic and Amy will not be within it for long. Although I would enjoy putting Sonic through misery for chapters on end- that is not the point of the story."
"The philosophy of the tale is how slavery effects one's soul. In this tale I will demonstrate the sheer force of will and strength that our two mobians will have and will keep in their fight for freedom. And even when they do escape- however that may occur, their battle continues not only to save the mobians left behind but also to somehow grow out of the habits their souls have been beaten into in their time as slaves."
"I am glad to know that slavery on your home is abolished- and at the end of this tale hopefully the residents of that planet will come to the same circumstances. But fear not, for at the end of it all Sonic and Amy will realize the true meaning of what it is to be free and why it is so difficult to find AND define- if it is there to define at all."
"Feel free to write whatever you would like as an addition to this story. I do it myself when someone has not updated for a long time and I know just what I want to happen next."
To Ted: I agree that I should describe the setting more- I just realized that I gave no detail as to what kind of place they are in. But that is just and fair- their location is kind of a surprise anyway. But I will take your advice.
To Liz: Thanks for the review, and thanks for looking over this chapter for me before I posted it. Behind every succesfull author is an even more succesfull beta reader! Wow, that made me sound unpopular. Oh well- I am, after all!
To all else: Thank you all. However, due to the amount of you, I am unable to respond to all of you. From here on in- I will only respond to reviews if I feel like it, or you ask a question, or I have extra space in the authoress' note.
Read on.
From what Sonic had heard, this planet used to be appalled by slavery- it used to be a flourishing and noble place, -not without it's problems, mind you- but filled with individuals bent on the better of their society. But it just wasn't meant to be. The species of the planet was simply a malformation of evolution- they could not change what they were. They had nearly destroyed their world with their ignorance, and in the process, had to give up most, if not all, of the things they had invented to make their lives easier. They did this in a last attempt to save their planet, even if it meant thrice the work for every individual.
But even this sacrifice, which barely preserved their world for another handful of centuries or so, brought problems. There was no longer enough work behind the agricultural and industrial industries, without the machines, to provide basic needs to the people. So the species did only what they could- they dominated nearby races, stole their planets and turned them to slaves, using their highly advanced but corrosive weapons to keep them in check. But even after this civilization had made these adjustments, they continued to destroy the planets they came to, even after they gave up the most common habits that endangered their environment.
It seemed that the race was doomed to spread like a poison through the galaxy until they had starved every resource available.
Like a fire through the woods.
Amidst the hall of otherwise quietly sleeping slaves, a solitary blue hedgehog tossed and turned in a fitful sleep. He unconsciously pressed into the rough wall behind him, shivering as he moaned quietly, trying to get away from some invisible pursuer. The poor, bedraggled young male shuddered, then jerked as his eyes snapped open and his nightmare ended.
Sonic bolted upright, drenched in a cold sweat. His first instinct was to scream- but he forcefully bit it back down, not wanting to draw any more 'attention' to himself than the overseers would normally give him. Trying to calm himself, he breathed in deeply- as well as shakily, hugging his knees to his chest and trying to drive back the waves of terror. Shuddering at the post-nightmare trauma, he tried to fight the lingering fear and get back to sleep- he had learned the hard way to get as much sleep as allowed. It kept him going through the day, and allowed him to think. If he couldn't think, he couldn't remember home. If he couldn't remember home, he would never be able to find his way back. If he couldn't find his way back, he could never get out.
And Sonic would get out.
He had promised himself to do that. And he would- Sonic didn't care how long it took or how hard it would be, but he just had to get out. He just had to... If he didn't, he would die. Sonic didn't want to die. Not now.
His nightmare had been awful, but it was beyond his memory and he could recall very little of it. There was a pleasant part of the dream, though. It had been less a visual experience than a swirl of sensations and seemingly meaningless colors. Sonic had felt safety; love and warmth- but it had been quickly torn away and replaced by swirling blackness and the howls of demons.
As he sat there, shivering, a few things began to register in his mind. Sonic moaned quietly to himself- he wished he could ignore whatever subliminal detail he was recognizing and get some sleep, but it prodded at his conscious until he gave it notice. One; it was cold. Very cold. Wasn't it still Summer? Sonic knew that couldn't be true- he was shivering like crazy. He wished he had grabbed a blanket earlier, but he could put up with it for now. Two; It was quiet. No suppressed moaning of the nightmare troubled slaves, no strange beast-summoned growls from outside, no chattering night sparrows. The only sounds were the hushed whistle of the wind, and the occasional owl.
Sonic slowly put these facts together in his mind, and discovered...
It must be fall! He allowed a grin to come across his face. He was getting closer to winter- when he might see Amy. ...Amy, the one person Sonic would eagerly do three times the work he had now to see.
Fall could bring good and bad things. On one hand- planting season seemed farther away than ever. This meant less work- and that was always good news. However, this would also mean that harvesting would start. Sonic wasn't a total idiot, he knew about agriculture; you planted in the spring and harvested in fall. That's just how it worked.
However he had little experience with it himself and didn't know if collecting would be any more or less work that the planting and plowing and other tasks were. He hoped that it would mean less work, for if it did then not only would it dull the knife-edge of strain but give him more time to pull himself together. He had often wondered whether he was holding up okay. Sonic wanted to stay as physically and mentally healthy as possible, in order to enjoy days that he hoped to spend as a free hedgehog.
He had again wondered how he let this happen to him. Why couldn't he break free? There were many times when it should have been possible, but every time he was beaten back and reintroduced to the chains and corporal punishment that had ruled his life for a matter of months now. Sonic shuddered. His hate for chains almost paralleled his hate for water or the sight of blood. They were a rare sight on Mobius. But never before in his life had he expected that chains would actually be put on his hands at a regular schedule. The first time that chains had been used in such a manner was nearly five months ago, recently after he had been captured. He, Amy and the other slaves had been brought to a quick examination center. Of course Sonic hadn't known what it was then, but now he understood.
It was there that his speed, and Amy's strength, had been discovered. And immediately afterward they were purchased by one of the fifteen huge farms/industrial camps of the world, responsible for together producing half of the world's food and supplies.
Sonic would have kept thinking, when suddenly the door opened, at which he and a great quantity of other slaves snapped to attention as light flooded hall 53. A solitary figure stood in the now open doorway, wielding the all-too-common tools, used to quite literally beat your defiance from you: a whip and a club.
"Morning shifts begin!"
Morning shifts passed uneventfully. Apparently the corn, soy and wheat needed no tending and would not be collected for a few weeks, so their work would be solely constructional for today, as Sonic overheard the overseers say during repairs on halls 29, 34 and 16. He took the peaceful- or as peaceful as slave work could be- day to think, plan escape, and remember Amy. If he forgot her, he would quite literally have nothing left.
Mid-morning break came and went, and the repairs were finished.
The fourth whistle of the day sounded, and Sonic actually found himself relieved, because it meant lunch. But he immediately kicked himself for even daring to feel happy. If he dared feel happy in this hellhole, it would mean that he was growing accustomed to it- enjoying it. The very idea made him sick to his stomach.
He walked into the dining hall, designated as hall 6, one of the ten non-residential halls. The others, halls 1-3, were storage, 4, 5, & 6 were eating halls, and the remaining 3 were staff lounges/homes. Halls 8, 9 & 10 were rumored to be filled with cozy furniture, heat, food... well, it was a house, what do you expect? But at the same time, after five months of bare wooden floors it sounded like heaven to Sonic.
Hall 6 was disturbingly familiar to a long, fairly narrow school cafeteria- with peeling painted walls, scuffed floors, a rotting ceiling and no ventilation. Actually, that's what Sonic assumed the holes in the roof were for, but he couldn't be sure. The dimensions of the room were that of a golden rectangle- width roughly onehalf of the height, height roughlytwo times that of the width, and visa-versa. But every square inch of it carried an awful sense of dread, oppression and the scents of sweat, tears and blood.
Blood.
Sonic hated blood. Ever since he was a child, the mere sight of it would make him sick. He had never known why. That was one of the reasons he fought robots only- not people. That's why he never wanted to touch a knife or gun in his life. He was afraid of the horrible crimson liquid that screamed predictions of death to whoever bothered to look.
He solemnly went to obtain his rations for the next 18 hours, (they didn't serve dinner anymore.) and moved to sit down on one of the tables. The tables had replaced dinner a few weeks ago, and Sonic actually hadn't felt that strongly about it. It was either that he wasn't allowed to feel strongly about anything anymore, and had grown into the habit (Sonic begged it not to be so.) or that going to bed hungry wasn't as bad as having to eat off the floor. Besides, from what he heard dinner would be back in two weeks. He could wait that long for some tables. Beds would be nice too, but he decided not to get his hopes up. Doing so might drive one crazy, and Sonic was bent on keeping his sanity for the days of freedom that he begged were awaiting him.
The slaves sat either in groups, or alone, like Sonic was right now. Socializing was not against the rules at lunch or in the first few minutes back in hall 53, but Sonic didn't have anyone to talk to, if there was anyone here who spoke English. (Besides the slave drivers, who spoke nearly three languages each, including one that none of the slaves knew or were allowed to know.) Besides, Sonic was too ashamed to talk to them. He knew that none of them recognized him as Sonic the Hedgehog, but still- after all those years of fighting slavery, he was embarrassed and ashamed to be caught in its grasp so easily.
He prodded amongst the stale bread and soup-like substance next to it, quietly taking a few bites and absorbing himself in thought.
He wished he could be with Amy right now, but she was in another building. They didn't separate males and females during lunch or work, but she was in a different division. She was probably in hall five or four. He missed her. If she were here, he wouldn't feel so awful. Maybe he'd be happy if Amy was here for him to talk to.
Again the feeling of guilt for being happy struck him, and he metaphorically kicked himself over it, oblivious when a young red fox sat down on the same table as the blue hedgehog, staring at him for quite a while before speaking up, and startling him in the process.
"You're Sonic." Said the fox next to him. Caught unawares and alerted, Sonic's ears perked upright and he snapped to the attention of the voice. Sonic gaped, and quietly stammered:
"H-how did you...?" He began, awestruck. The fox laughed, although it far too darkly for his age, (he looked quite young) and took a bite of his meager lunch.
"Oh, come on. Who doesn't know you?" He argued, taking a hearty bite of the stale bread, and to Sonic's horror- enjoying it. But then again you could get used to almost anything.
Sonic was taken back. Of course. He had been famous. He was a hero. How could he have forgotten? Sonic begged that his past was not being beaten out of him, and quickly replied to the young fox's surprise.
"I- I'm sorry. Yes, I... " The blue hedgehog sighed. He had nothing to say to the fox. Why was that? Sonic always had something to say to the people at Mobius. After he had saved some orphans from a fire or just had a charity named after him or something like that- he had always had something valiant to say. Come to think of it, If Sonic were at home, he would probably be graciously giving the fox his autograph right now. Sonic sighed, and the realization shook him terribly. Had the mere experience of slavery truly beaten his life out of him? Or was it just the circumstances? Sonic begged it to be the latter.
"I used to be mad at you." The fox said, poking around his lunch with disinterest. Broken from his thoughts, Sonic once again quickly looked up from his half-eaten 'meal'. Again with no words in his mouth, he stared, ashamed and speechless at the fox, fearing he knew what was coming next. "I used to ask my mom- 'Why isn't Sonic coming to save us'?"
Sonic winced at the words, and felt like crying. All this time in slavery- he had wanted someone to save him. Even during his time spent on Mobius, he had always been curious- how did it feel to be saved? To be held? To be rescued? It had been his deepest fear that one day there would be something he could not defeat and there would be no one to rescue him. And now his fear was a reality, and he was helpless, the curiosity growing to obsession. He wanted to be saved. He wanted Amy to save him. It had never occurred to him that someone would think he would be able to save him or her. After all, how could he? They had sophisticated weapons- Sonic didn't understand how they worked but he never could escape their firing range nor their pain. And the border around the plantation was impenetrable- he had tried.
Then why did he expect Amy to have any better luck?
The fox again began to speak, and Sonic listened intently.
"But then I realized- you're strong, but you're not immortal. You couldn't do any more than we could. If you could have- we wouldn't be here. I realized that you weren't as special as you made yourself out to be. Just a lucky jerk with a good heart." The fox laughed, expecting his joke to be a riot with the blue hedgehog. Sonic merely starred solemnly at his food. The fox shrugged. "I'm actually not mad at you. Or anyone. It's not their fault. They don't know. I'm glad they don't- they'd probably come here and get themselves killed. I'm glad they're happy, where they are. Even if I can't be there with them." The fox said. He had cleared his plate, and was now standing up to put it on the stack of dirty dishes. Sonic paused. Glad? That was a word rarely used by a slave.
"No one else blames you either, Sonic. And we're sorry- you must feel even worse than we do."
The fox left, and Sonic found himself once again alone, with his lunch, which he hadn't even touched since the fox began talking. He was starving, but found that he could not drive himself to eat. What had happened to him? What had this slavery done to him?
Feeling sick, he threw his half-eaten lunch away, left the tray on the table and stormed to the corner of the eating hall, sitting down to weep.
After drying his tears and returning to the fields of labor, Sonic found himself working on the construction of hall 55, pushing and pulling stones, wood and other supplies to the sight of construction, while older, more educated salves put them together. The strain made his muscles ache and his breathing grow ragged- he doubted he would ever be able to move his shoulders again after this. Not to mention his legs- it seemed like they were all one big bruise. And yet no matter how hard he pulled or how fast he moved the next cart of stones, the piles never seemed to get any smaller and the time passed slower than ever. He wasn't sure how long he could do this! It hurt! He looked around as he picked up his next load, flinching at the excruciating pain when even more pressure was applied to his already exhausted limbs. And it was still five hours until nightfall!
The unfinished hall stood before him, it's tall and bare wooden planks jutting from the ground, like bones of some anciently deceased monster. As he thought about it, carrying the heavy stones, he realized it was true. The way the ropes draped across the wooden planks could represent the remaining bits of flesh of an anonymous carcass, while the slaves scurrying around it were like scavanger beetles. And the stone walls, bordered with wood and insulated by straw, were quite sufficient for a still-intact rib cage.
Burrowing himself in this temporary distraction from his horrible life, he accidentally bumped into another slave, at which he tripped over, falling into the moist dirt. The stone he was carrying fell on his hand, at which he cried out and drew it back, pushing the rock away. He sighed to find it was not broken, but it did hurt and felt rather stiff as he tried to move it around. At first he shrunk away from the block of stone, but a loud voice came from his right. Sonic flinched, knowing what was coming next. He had messed up, and now they would punish him.
Once again the familiar slash of pain laced across his arm and stomach, and he was thrown to the ground at the blow. Sonic cried out, even if he had been expecting the injury, and backed away as the overseer reached out and grabbed a hold of him. The slave driver was terribly overweight, and his thick hands clamped around Sonic's neck, dragging him to his feet. Sonic at first expected him to let go, drop him to the ground and command that he kept working, but he did not let go. The overseer's fingers tightened threateningly around Sonic's neck, cutting off his air supply. At first Sonic considered holding still- if he took the abuse then he would eventually be left alone. Live another day. But he didn't let go, and it was no longer possible to breathe. Sonic panicked, and struggled, clawing at the slave driver's grubby fingers and trying to lash out at his captor. As the overseer of labor continued to tighten his grip, Sonic swung a foot expertly from its place on the ground and into his enemies' stomach, causing him to cry out and drop Sonic to the ground.
Sonic's eyes widened as he saw what he had done. Shocked, he backed away slowly as the overseer lay, moaning, on the ground.
...He knew what this meant. Even if he managed to get this man to leave him alone, he would still be caught, and then punished by someone else. But he just couldn't take it anymore. The guard quickly stood upright, and lunged, grasping Sonic and punching him hard in the stomach before the hedgehog could react. Recoiling in pain, Sonic barely managed to pull away and roll out of reach, launching back in a spin-dash as his assailant attempted to strike him again. Sonic would have succeeded, had not he been smacked aside with one of the stun-clubs. He cried out as the bolts of electricity jolted up and down his body, and struggled upright, putting additional and unwanted stress on his nearly deteriorated limbs. He knew he should stop. He knew he should sit down, like a good little slave, and take his punishment. But this person was insane! He would kill Sonic if he didn't fight back! What was he to do? Sonic dodged his next attack, and took out the fat man's legs. This knocked him unconscious, as he fell headfirst onto a rock.
But all the same, no matter what Sonic could do- even if the guy deserved it, this would not serve his well being. He knew what was going to happen next. They would come for him. They would punish him. Sonic panicked. He could run away, but for what? To be cornered against the wall and given twice the beating he was already due for? Or he could slip into the crowd, and pray that they couldn't pick him out. Or he could just sit here and get what was coming to him.
He stopped contemplating it when he heard the shouts of the guards running towards him, their weapons drawn. He stared at them for a moment. He knew exactly what was going to happen. He would fight them. They would win. They would beat him into submission and then punish him for his disobedience. But they would not kill him. He was too valuable an asset, what with his speed. But they surely could make him wish he were dead.
He jumped to the right and attempted to land a punch, but he was forcefully grabbed by his arm while two other guards fought to pin him down. He struggled against them, but it gained nothing as his attacks missed and more and more guards pinned him down. It did not take long until he could no longer move, and was being beaten back and forth by a selection of security guards. After a particularly powerful blow to the side, Sonic lay sprawled on the ground, tears of pain stinging at his eyes. It was too much. Why didn't he just stop? Pain and nausea pulsed through his body, and Sonic realized the stress was just too much. After another blow to the back, Sonic rolled onto his stomach and attempted to stand up, only to vomit his lunch onto the dirt and collapse on his side.
He looked up at the gray sky, awaiting more abuse, when he heard solitary footsteps approaching him. Sonic stiffened, but dare not roll over to see who was standing over him. This new person shouted something in a language unfamiliar to him, and then he found himself being pulled, (and not gently, for that matter) upright, so he could look this person in the eye.
Their face was aged with cruelty and wrinkles, and their mouth seemed to be fixed in a permanent scowl. Sonic shuddered at the sight of this person- they appeared to be terribly frightful. This apparently sophisticated slave driver at first talked with the others for a moment, but then turned to Sonic, bent down, and looked the blue hedgehog in the eye. Unsure of his intentions, Sonic tried to squirm away, but the grip on his arms was far too firm. The officer looked to the mark on Sonic's shoulder, and then stood upright.
The mark. Sonic had forgotten about the mark. It had been branded, can you believe it, onto his shoulder after he had been caught. It told what language he spoke and if he carried any diseases. 'E 0' English, Zero hereditary illnesses.
"Your punishment has been decided. Forty lashes." The officer concluded, turning to leave immediately afterward.
Sonic's eyes widened. Forty? The most he had ever gotten at once was twenty, and at the end he had been screaming. His entire body shuddered at the mere idea of forty. At first he thought the officer had been joking- but when his captors began dragging him towards the open area, next to the unfinished hall, he realized that he was dead serious. Sonic struggled, and attempted to get away, but it was no use. He was exhausted from the work he had done all morning- and after the fight, all his energy had been spent. He had nothing left, in every meaning of the phrase. Emotionally, physically, mentally, he was spent. He had gone through enough, right?
Apparently not.
He didn't dare resist as they tied him to a wooden post, which would hold him still during the 'discipline', as they dubbed it. Sonic scoffed. This was not discipline. This was torture. This was hate. This was all wrong.
For a long time there was nothing but silence, and Sonic took the opportunity to think.
This would hurt- a lot- ...but he could take it, couldn't he? He was Sonic the Hedgehog. He would not give them the satisfaction of seeing him cry. He swore to himself- no matter how much it hurt, he would not cry. He would not scream. As he thought this over, a disturbing thought crossed his mind. So what if he did? Would anyone blame him? Would he prove anything? No! No! So what? He realized; it didn't matter how tough he was or how fast he could run. As a matter of fact, the weak had it better off. No matter what he did- he was stuck here.
Sonic found himself crying even before his punishment began.
The first slice of pain struck into his skin, and he just barely bit back a cry of pain. Then the second came, then the third. Sonic whimpered, knowing this was just the beginning. Four. Then Five. It hurt! The pain seemed to double at every blow! By eight, he gave shouts of agony at every strike. He was loosing it- the pain, the misery, the realization of being completely powerless- it was too much! Eleven. Twelve. When would it end...?
The hedgehog screamed, and not because of the pain. He finally realized something. He would never get out. No matter what he did, escape was beyond his power. And here he was, helpless. He hated being helpless, with a passion. Nineteen. Twenty. Halfway there. He told himself, although it did not dull the pain or make the nightmare any easier to bear. Twenty-two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four.
Why?
Twenty-Five.
He wanted out. He wanted to leave- but how was he going to do that, exactly? He was no miracle worker and he sure as hell wasn't a hero anymore. So what was there left for him to be? Other than a liberty and love-starved slave? He managed a sigh between screams- for the pain was unbearable now- and shuddered.
Thirty-two.
Almost there. He told himself. But that didn't help. Eight more was still eight more. And now screams and tears accompanied every slice of pain. He had to get his mind off the pain. But what was there to think of?
Thirty-Three.
Thirty-Four.
Amy. There was always Amy. And the best part was that he knew she was alive, and that she was out there somewhere. That she still loved him- It felt terribly good, to be loved. Sonic had never respected it before but love was a very useful thing in a cold place like this. He buried himself in memories of times spent in her arms. There- he felt better already.
Thirty-Six.
Four more. He could take it.
Thirty-Seven.
He would live. Live to suffer another day. How comforting was that?
Thirty-Eight.
It seems that that was his life now. Suffering, and for what? To feed his enslavers and fuel his own misery?
Thirty-nine.
...He just wanted it to stop.
Forty.
He was allowed to drop to the ground, where he nearly sobbed his eyes out. The hedgehog's entire body was wracked with excruciating pain- both physical and emotional, and he would have lain there for hours had not he been dragged to his feet. At first, he expected another beating, but apparently they saw him to be miserable enough and allowed him to return to work. Sonic knew that with his now harshly stinging- and bleeding- back, it would be more painful then ever to carry the stones and wood. But hey-
What was he supposed to do about it?
That night, the construction of hall 55 was finished- the last project of fall. For many slaves, this was good news, as tomorrow meant they were moving to the mines (where there were supposedly better conditions). But Sonic heard none of this news- he was far too busy sobbing himself to sleep.
Well, that is all for today. I'm glad that the story wasn't going in as fulfiled circles as I thought it was, but next chapter, the plot starts to heat up! The purpose of these chapters were to introduce you to what Sonic has to put up with. It's awful, no?
Anyway, although I basically have the plot atleast somewhat figured out, I could REALLY USE SUGGESTIONS! Not that I don't know what I'm doing or anything- no, no, that's silly, of course I know exactly what I'm doing- why would you ask such a thing, you're crazy! Go away!
...Yeah, I'm stumped.