THE CYCLE OF AGES

A NEW WORLD ORDER

Interlude Part 1

"Gratitude is a disease of dogs."
- Iosif Vissarionovich
(Joseph Stalin)


Decryption Protocol RATTRAP
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From: Mya Florentine MflorentineProtectorate.secure.gov
Sent: Saturday, June 18, 3237 18:10 hrs
To: Mastermind MastermindProtectorate.secure.gov
Subject: Completion of the Phase Seven SHEAP Trials

Beloved Mastermind,

Phase Seven of the Super Human Enhancement and Augmentation Program is complete, and Dr. Tenzenkov has finalized and sent along his report on the similar completion of Phase Two of THEAP. As you know, while we can now move forward to Phase Eight of SHEAP, in an attempt to mimic the successes of the original Sub-Human enhancement and Augmentation Project (S-HEAP), THEAP is at an impasse. And without a working THEAP, SHEAP cannot move beyond Phase Ten, and will likely be hindered in Phase Nine. Additionally, any work done now in Phase Eight may have to be re-engineered from formula, dependant on future changes in THEAP.

We need to move forward into Phase Three, as soon as possible.

Preferably before anymore of our test subjects die, and while we can, of course, get more for the Program, it will take months to bring them up to the level of our current batch. When are we going to get the new samples you promised? Within the week? Next month?

All pertinent research findings are enclosed in the attached condensed file format: Mflorent.6.18.3237.CDF

Please Advise.

Your Loyal Servant,
Mya Florentine, PhD. Colonel

PS:
Why did you not censor that broadcast my sister made on the Terran News? It is one thing for Halcyon to speak of a lasting peace with these animals – we all know it is only so much smoke and mirrors – but Aya should know better.


Mastermind smiled.

It was something he really didn't do very often, but this recently development left him – what was the word? Giddy? Yes. That. He was giddy. Luckily, his mask kept anyone from seeing the big smile on his face. He still felt it absolutely necessary to maintain an air of detached coldness and professionalism. To let everyone see just how human he was under his mask would give him less of an iconic power over them. And...

There were other reasons, too.

"I must admit, Lieutenant, I'm both surprised and extremely pleased. You've done a superb job."

"Thank you, sir." Lieutenant Forge was a big man, just over six feet tall, a little under middle age, with close cut hair, and a healthy brown beard. Like most of the surviving human and overlander population, his skin was fair and his eyes brown. He had an unyieldingly serious and determined demeanor to him, and probably had since Robotnick wiped out his family, several years ago. He was one of Mastermind's preferred go-to guys.

As useful as his mutates could be, especially in a stand up fight, they were not the brightest or most creative individuals, nor were they very subtle. For special jobs like that, fortunately, Mastermind now had the services of several units of former-GUN Special Forces. In many ways, they were superior to the individually more powerful mutates, because of their rigorous training, well-bonded teams, and tactical flexibility.

As before, they did not disappoint him.

"Any casualties?" Mastermind inquired, casually. If there were any, it was a shame, but one he wouldn't lose much sleep over. All those he really cared for in the world were dead and buried.

"No, sir," Lieutenant Forge replied, with a small smile of his own. "Chen got a little singed, but he'll be back at 100 running exercises in a month or so."

"Good to hear," Mastermind said, and it was no lie. A SF was hard to replace.

"Was it difficult bringing it back here?"

Forge waved his hand, face down, back and forth. "A little. The drugs kept things from getting out of hand, and he wasn't as big or heavy as we thought. The hardest part was tracking him down in the first place."

"I hear we have Mr. Weaver to thank for that," Mastermind said.

"Yes, sir. He's good with the locals. Knew the dialect and everything." Lieutenant Forge paused, and then added. "A nice fellow, too. A good man."

The two then came to a large metal door, the rear entrance to the special sub-section of the containment facility. Forge put his face up to a retinal scanner, and the door unlocked and slid away into the walls with a hiss. Mastermind usually preferred to let others open these doors for him, though if necessary, the scanner could confirm his identity through the eye slits in his mask.

Inside the large room, about a hundred feet in length and width, and fifty feet in height, struggled an incredible creature. Its body was long and serpent-like, uniformly red in color, with a long mane of crimson fur along the backbone and to the tip of the tail. The four strong, well clawed limbs were set in metal restraints, which linked up to reinforced bars in the walls and floor, keeping the creature largely immobile, except to twist and strain its long, thin torso. Part of the creature's fearsome face was concealed behind a strong looking muzzle of metal and steel coils.

It was Mastermind's first look at a real, live Dragon.

"You said that it is a he?" Mastermind asked.

"Yes, sir. I know you don't see any genitalia, but the voice is male, and Weaver told us that it was definitely a male. Also, when the muzzle is off, the face looks distinctly masculine." Lieutenant Forge shrugged. "Your scientists can confirm or deny this at their leisure, I suppose."

In front of them, the Dragon snarled and puffed a thin line of smoke from behind its muzzle. Cruel orange eyes flashed, and the tail also struggled against the metal that kept it from moving more than a foot or two in any direction.

"Can it... can he speak through the muzzle?"

Lieutenant Forge nodded. "Yes, sir. It was actually quite talkative when we first tranquilized it. Swearing revenge and all that. After we got the muzzle on, it continued to threaten us periodically."

"What was the name Weaver gave you, again?"

"He said that the locals called it 'Zan.' I don't know if that's the creature's real name or not."

"Yesss..." The dragon said, voice a low and deadly hiss. "I am Zan. Of the Crimson Flight. Release me... release me... or roast in your own juices!"

Neither of the humans seemed ruffled.

"Fascinating creature!" Mastermind marveled. "A beautiful specimen! And in perfect condition, too! I am a little saddened that he doesn't have wings, like the ones in the books, but it is no matter. He flew, yes?"

"Yes, sir."

"An obvious manifestation of Chaos Energy manipulation." Mastermind's grin grew even wider, as the Dragon snarled and howled in impotent rage, just twenty feet in front of him. One thing remained somewhat troubling, however.

"You are sure he was alone? None of his Flight will come searching for him?"

"No, sir. From what Weaver gathered, he was a rogue, expelled from his Flight. The locals may have only said so to get us to remove him, however. His raiding was causing a lot of damage, and he had already killed at least a dozen mobian females and children. Supposedly, some were eaten, so you can imagine that the locals were rather distressed."

"Good. Very good. You'll get a commendation for this, Lieutenant! And a promotion! Anything you want. I had expected a tissue sample and a dead body – but this exceeds all I'd hoped for when I sent you out on this mission!" Mastermind happily clasped his hands together and looked straight up at Zan. "And as for you, my scaly friend... You can look forward to interesting times. Interesting times indeed!"

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Decryption Protocol RATTRAP
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From: Mastermind MastermindProtectorate.secure.gov
Sent: Sunday, June 19, 3237 9:20 hrs
To: Mya Florentine MflorentineProtectorate.secure.gov
Subject: Re: Completion of the Phase Seven SHEAP Trials

Faithful Mya,

You will find all you need in Sector Six, Bay Five of the Fort Blackwell Containment Facility. Proceed to Phase Eight. As for Phase Nine of SHEAP, and Phase Three of THEAP, those materials are also in route. I expect the first shipment within the week, and the last by November at the latest.

I still believe that, by early next year, we can begin the final phases of our human trials.

Full Scale Human Enhancement and Augmentation will then begin.

We need only to keep those mobian animals off guard until we are ready to strike, and scour them from our world. You know this. Halcyon knows this. As for your sister, she is very popular at the moment. I do not think, however, that she will cause us much trouble in the future. Rest assured that I have things in hand.

You are, and have always been, my favorite.

Yours,
Mastermind


Mobotropolis.
2852 MC (Mobian or Mogulian Calender)

Fires lit the countryside, like a sea of stars set upon the land.

"Upon these battlements I stand!"

Showers of arrows and crossbow bolts raised down on the enemy from crenellated walls and openings in stone ramparts.

"Our walls and our bodies may be broken, but we shall never yield!"

Ladders and siege towers hit bulwarks of stone, as mobians fought hand to hand, the dead and dying falling to their deaths.

"Fifty days or five hundred! The imperial city will never surrender!"

And, amid the fighting, distinct in his gold dressed armor and garland, unwavering in his use of blood stained sword, unyielding with his arrow impaled shield replete with royal red cross, was the King of Acorns: Marius Acorn II. On the bloodied battlements he stood, defiantly, kicking an enemy corpse from the walls to crash among its comrades. Highlighted by fire, his features familiar and resolute, he pointed out into the enemy army.

"Let the Pretender and False King come and claim this Sword! This Ring! And this Golden Crown! LET HIM COME!!"

And somewhere, far beyond the ranks of foot soldiers, amid his personal guard, a black rider on a black horse, his face covered and concealed by a horned helm, narrowed his eyes as his army became chopped to pieces, mobian by mobian. Without a word, the False and Pretender King turned, and his guard followed as their leader rode past loading catapults, and ranks of waiting cavalry, organized to ride into any breech made in Mobotropolis' City Walls. Finally, at a tent far in the enemy camp, guarded by eunuchs, he stopped, and dismounted.

Alone, he entered.

There, amid soft pillows and burning incense, the Princess waited. She, too, seemed familiar, with red hair, light blue eyes and a matching dress. Seductively posed among the finery, she smiled at him. The smile of one lover for another.

"How goes it, my brave knight?" She asked, not removing herself from her comfort.

"Not well," The False and Pretender King answered, his voice smooth and strong. "We may have to fall back and try again next year. Or the year after that. Your father simply refuses to die."

"The stubborn old goat!" The Princess cursed her sire, and rose to her feet. With grace, she draped herself on the Pretender, and ran her right hand gently down the side of his great horned helm. "To still refuse you, after all your efforts to please him. He doesn't understand... doesn't appreciate... either of us..."

And then, she slowly removed the False and Pretender King's helm, revealing blue quills, green eyes, and the face of...

King Maximilian Acorn awoke with a start, holding his chest, trying to calm his beating heart. He felt pain in his chest, not for the first time, and winced as it filled his body with numbness. Then, it was gone, and his rapidly pounding heart slowly returned to normal. The room however, remained dark, as long shadows cast themselves over the floor of the Royal Bedchamber. Next to him, The Queen mumbled something, adjusted her pillow, and never woke up.

'A dream... just a dream...'

But it was not the first time he had had that particular one. The Great Siege of Mobotropolis, where the hated False and Pretender King, his actual name long since purged from history, attempted to take the Kingdom by force. It had served as a lesson for every monarch to rule since the time of Marius II, as the Pretender had once been a loyal and powerful knight, a servant to the same King he would later betray. And the Princess, who had consorted with the knight and betrayed her flesh, who in the end had taken a poisonous snake to her chest...

Every great King knew to watch his servants and children for signs of betrayal.

For signs of corruption and failure.

But in his dream, Marius II had looked like him, with the same coloring (Marius had actually been much darker), beard, and eyes. And the traitors, the hated traitors to Crown, King and Country, they had been...

Maximilian shuddered, feeling suddenly very cold.

"Foolishness," he whispered, the only one to hear his voice himself. Sonic, he knew for a fact, had no interest in governance or being King. Then again, according to the stories of what had happened, the False and Pretender King had shown no interest in power either, up until the terrible betrayal. Of the Princess, even less is known, except her name.

Jezebel.

Could his Sarah, his little Sally, be another Jezebel?

'No.' He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. 'No. Of course not.'

He laid his head against a soft pillow and closed his eyes.

'Of course not.'


These were dark days for the House of Acorn.

Day days indeed, when a King was forced to negotiate with a lowly businessman.

Or woman, in this case.

The King felt his hand fall on the hilt of his Sword, and he silently wished that it still spoke to him, but the Source was silent these days. Perhaps, it would speak to Sally, but not him. Sally, who was, to his shame, the first monarch (or potential monarch) to not bond with the great fastness of the Source and the Sword. Worse: now the Source Pool was gone, annihilated during the creation (or destruction) of the Eggman's Perfect Defense Fortress Helios.

Was the Royal Family truly cut off from the Source?

From the power that had guided it since Alexander dipped his son Xerxes into the pool? The same Xerxes who would be known, forever after, as Xerxes the Golden? What sort of a King ruled without the will and guidance of the Source? In a way, it made them little better than the fallible and transient Dukes of Mercia, or the brutish Khans of Downunda. Certainly, the recent plights of the Crown indicated some sort of fall from grace.

Nearby, to the King's right, sat his chosen successor.

His daughter.

In a throne made for a male of the Royal line.

In any case, Sally seemed to be paying closer attention to Rouge's ramblings than he was. With a barely audible sigh, he turned to the three dimensional holographic image of Rouge, projected by the holoemitter built into a slide-away plate in the marble floor. The accursed she-bat was sitting in front of a desk, somewhere on Angel Island (his sourced believed). The fact that he didn't know exactly where she was only made him feel more frustrated and disgusted with the whole situation.

"I think a policy of reconciliation is more than appropriate, and I do not take the attempted actions of a small number of your agents to reflect the heart and mind of a benevolent king such as yourself. Did not your grandfather, the Great Melchoir Acorn, once say that 'all great leaders know when to sup with their enemies?' Is now not a good time to once again mend the wounds between us?"

"What is she talking about?" Sally interjected, while the Rouge-hologram paused in her pre-recorded speech.

"I know you do not approve of me, King Acorn, but you must accept me in the position I have taken. I am pregnant with Miles' child..." At this forthright statement, Sally gasped. The Rouge hologram continued, "And by right of Mobian Common Law, everything that was his is now mine. The same Common Law your ancestors approved of, good King. Prower Dynamic Aerospace Technologies, all its affiliates, all its inventions... they are MINE! And my child's! King or not, I will not share them, or hand them over under threat of violence."

"As it did under Miles' guidance, his corporation will not play favorites among the free people of Mobius. If the dingo want something, we shall sell it to them. If the Mercians want something, we shall sell it to them. If the echidna or the humans want something, we shall sell it to them," Rouge said this last part with more than a little heat. "And, of course, if our friends in the Kingdom of Acorn want something, we shall sell it to them. Provided, naturally, that they pay off the tab accrued under the tenure of my common law husband."

King Maximilian ground his teeth together angrily.

To his left, Queen Alecia reached over and up, placing a calming hand on his arm.

"I trust we can come to some sort of understanding. If not, Prower Dynamic Aerospace will terminate all future shipments of war materials, including Cyclone War Machines, Black Eagle Interceptors, and the Stalwart series of main battle tanks." Rouge let that threat hang for a few long seconds. "While I know you can quickly make up for any deficiency in the production of small arms, we both know it will be years before you can independently manufacture more advanced systems, much less a sophisticated War Machine like the Cyclone."

Rouge seemed about to terminate the communiqué, but paused, and added: "And lastly, if you ever send someone after me, or my child, I will see that you regret it. Your Majesty."

And the hologram disappeared, replaced by a hovering, slowly turning, Prower Dynamic Aerospace Technologies logo. In a few seconds, that, too, was gone.

"Daddy?" Sally started to ask.

"BRING ME ST. JOHN!!" Her father bellowed, slamming his fist on the armrest of his throne. Immediately, two servants left from the far end of the throne room, scurrying to do his bidding. For a few moments, at least, there was near complete silence in the great and rather empty hall. The only sounds coming from outside, and those being the muted noises of construction, as it continued on the new Royal Palace. Those noises occurred day and night, as four shifts took overlapping turns building and building, their efforts muted somewhat by thick walls and insulation.

"Daddy?" Sally asked again. "What was Rouge talking about? What was all that about?"

"I sincerely wish someone had told me that little brat was looking for a woman. I'd have sent him one of the widowed noblewomen, if nothing else!" He looked down at Sally for just a second, never mentioning of course that he had hoped to pawn off his daughter in exchange for a world conquering heir, even if he was a vulpine. He faced forward, at the hall's large wooden doors. "I'd have sent him a whole harem, if he'd asked. Anything but this damn criminal she-bat!"

"Father..."

"I..." King Max searched for the words. "I sent St. John to bring her in for her crimes. That is all. We all know she stole from Knothole, and trafficked in illegally acquired gems and information. There is a preponderance of evidence that she not only sold technology and information to Julian... to Robotnick, but that she also had the temerity to sell him a Chaos Emerald to power Helios."

"I see," Sally said, and relaxed a fraction in her seat. She seemed to think over the situation, and evaluate it herself. "So what are you going to do now?"

"Unfortunately, we need those weapons. We can't be the only major power on Mobius not using her war machines. Dunn – how much do we currently owe this highway brigand?"

Preston Dunn, Mobian Minister of Finance, was a tall thin vulpine, with a pronounced chin and bushy white eyebrows. He was a newer addition to the Royal Court, a student of the old Minister of Finance who had died in the Fall of Mobotropolis, years ago. He was well known (notorious in some circles) for his insistence on promoting unorthodox economics, inspired from foreign models, including overlander ones. During the war, this stance, along with his criticisms of the King's 'Great Agricultural Overhaul' plan of 3225, and the numerous 'Rapid Industrialization and Modernization Programs' between 3221 and 3226, had led him to fall out of favor.

Now, having been proven correct, he was back in the favor of the Crown.

"Somewhere on the order of three billion four hundred million Mobian credits, my King," Dunn said the astronomical number with a flat tone and disinterested voice. "It fluctuates daily, but is constant around that figure."

"Three and a half billion credits!" King Max snarled. "That the Golden Throne should be extorted by a... a... business... we helped to create – it fills me with revulsion! Can we not simply print more money, or refuse payment? There must be some alternative to giving into her demands!"

"My King," Dun said, slowly. He was, like most successful Ministers of State, very careful with his words. "Though it is inconvenient, and yes: even somewhat demeaning, you must, in this circumstance, give in somewhat. If you do not pay, you will undermine our already fragile and recovering economy, not to mention the people's economic confidence in the government. As you know, printing more money will only cause inflation. Our money is already seen as weak and unstable in comparison to that printed by Echidnapolis."

"Could we promise to refinance the money in a non-capital venture of some sort?" Sally proposed, to King Max's surprise. "Maybe employee training, or subsidies? Mobotropolis, and the Kingdom, has nothing if not an excess of workers looking for jobs. If we can cut back what we owe, and bring jobs at the same time, then we kill two birds with one stone, yes?"

"Not a bad idea, Princess," Dunn answered. "We could offer her land on which to build new factories, and construction subsidies... and possibly a guarantee against local collective bargaining. Depending on location, we could negotiate away maybe... a billion dollars? If Rouge plays along. I'm sure her advisors will tell her to accept, knowing that the Kingdom can not simply hand over the money she wants."

King Max watched his daughter with surprise. "Sarah?"

"I've been studying up on economics, father." Sally replied, proudly. "It was something I never really gave any thought to before, but I can see how important it is now that the war is over, and we're trying to rebuild. So I've tried to learn as much as I can about it."

"I see. That's very responsible of you," The King replied, and meant every word.

Oh, but if only Sally had been born male...!

"Good for you, dear, showing some initiative!" Queen Alicia added. Both reigning monarchs knew Sally really had to work hard, doubly so really, given that her current fiancée preferred to go to Angel Island and compete in the Snowboarding Championships in Ice Cap Zone, instead of putting effort into learning his Kingly duties.

From the end of the hall, the Royal Speaker cleared his throat, to get their attention. He then stood straight at the side of the wooden doors, and announced: "Commander Geoffrey St. John. As ordered, Your Majesty."

The skunk entered with his usual composure - chin high, hair and fur well groomed, Secret Service uniform perfectly presented. Only one thing was missing: Hershey was not with him. He walked the ninety feet from door to station, before the throne, keeping a respectful distance from his sovereign. With only a fraction of nervous hesitation he got down on one knee, and bowed.

"My King," he said, simply. "I am at your service."

King Max was glad he'd calmed, since his initial outburst. St. John and his family were loyal and true servants of the crown, and though he had failed from time to time, Geoffrey St. John had rendered many services to his King over the years. Maximilian sighed, waited a few seconds, and tapped his finger on the end of his armrest.

"Arise, Geoffrey St. John," he said, and let the skunk get to his feet. "We received a message from Rouge the Bat earlier today, and have just finished looking at it. As you can imagine, we are not amused."

"You... you need only give the word, your Majesty!" St. John quickly replied. "I will pursue this harridan to the ends of Mobius! I will..."

"You will do no such thing." King Max held up his hand, and St. John was completely silent. He didn't even draw a fresh breath, until the King lowered his hand back to his armrest. "Rouge will be... accommodated for the time being."

"I... I apologize, your Majesty!" Geoffrey blurted out. "I tried to apprehend the criminal, but I was betrayed! She somehow convinced the natives to attack us, and she somehow knew when we left the mainland, and..."

"I read your report, Geoffrey," King Max said, and that was the end of that.

St. John was silent for a moment, and then he asked, "What do you wish of me, My Lord?"

"You have served the Golden Throne well, Geoffrey, but we cannot ignore that you are more competent in some areas than in others. You are quite skilled at finding those who do not wish to be found, but not so skilled in retrieving them, especially when force is required. We do not think you are subtle enough for that sort of work."

He made sure to use the pronoun 'we' at the right times, so that Geoffrey knew he spoke with the opinion and authority of not just the King, but also the country.

"Yes, my King." Geoffrey accepted the criticism without complaint.

"I am thus assigning you to another case, still of great importance." King Max saw Geoffrey's eyes light up at that. "Recently, we have had troubles in Southern regions of the realm. Casino Night, in particular. Two days ago, we lost an armored vehicle on patrol in the outskirts of the city. This is just the latest in a series of annoyances to strike at the Mobian Armed Forces tasked to bring that city back into the law-abiding and Source-fearing fold of the Kingdom. Gather a handful of your best men, and go to Casino Night. Find and punish those responsible in a manner befitting traitors to the Crown."

"Yes! Yes, sir!" Geoffrey bowed, and hesitantly added. "My King... as to my petition for knighthood..."

"Surely, Geoffrey, you wouldn't be asking me to reward you for failure?" Maximilian asked, without a trace of anger: only a hint of annoyance and displeasure.

"No. No. Of course not. I will do as the Golden Throne commands." Geoffrey bowed again, deeper, and walked backwards several feet before turning, and taking his leave.

"Don't you think you were too hard on him, dear?" The Queen asked, once St. John was gone.

"On the contrary!" King Max responded, defensibly. "If anything, I'm too lenient! My father would have him clean the Royal Stables for bringing such embarrassment to the Crown. I'd be tempted to do the same, if we had a Royal stables at the moment."

"Father," Sally asked, out of the blue. "What punishment were you referring to earlier?"

King Max gave his daughter a questioning look; surprised she didn't already know.

"Why," he said, a little astounded that she needed to be told. "The only punishment for treachery is death. The culprits will be hung, and their families imprisoned. Though, knowing St. John, he'll probably just shoot them in the back of the neck."

"Death? And..." Sally gasped, covering her mouth with her left hand. "Daddy, you can't! And punishing their families...?!"

"Now, now, Sally." He waved his finger at her in a knowing manner. "Remember the words of your great grandfather, the wise and great King Melchoir Acorn: 'A Great King is always of two moods. Benevolent governance, and swift punishment.'"

"It is unjust..." Sally turned away and whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.

"Sarah Acorn, you will show your Father and King respect in His Hall!" Max frowned, but Sally didn't turn to look at him, making the gesture rather pointless. "This is what it means to rule a nation and a state. If you do not have the stomach for it, tell me now!"

"Max!" The Queen protested, but didn't say anymore.

"Sarah!" Max said again. "Did you hear me?"

"I did... father." Sally let out a deep breath, and relaxed slightly. She still didn't look at him. "I understand, but that doesn't mean I like it."

"Sometimes, my daughter, a King must act not as he likes, but as the interests of the country demand. ... And sometimes that means acting in a way that hurts your heart, and your conscience." He turned away from her, and looked forward. In a softer tone, he added, "If you had bonded with the Source, you'd understand that."

"Have you ever considered that maybe, just maybe, the Source is manipulating you?" Sally spoke up, a little angrier.

"We are not getting into this argument again!" Her father answered, also getting angrier. "One day you will bear this Crown, and wear this Ring, and wield this Sword, and by the Source, you will bring pride to our ancestors!"

"I sincerely doubt our ancestors toss and turn in worry over our actions, father," Sally said, in a mocking tone.

"Enough," King Max said, coldly. Then louder he added, "We are adjourning for the time being. Any future matters will be handled by Our Ministers."

"And you." He stood up and pointed at Sally. "You will return to your studies. It is obvious you still have much to learn. In fact: I have a wonderful idea! You will spend a week with each of Our Ministers, and learn from them the tools of statecraft. You will learn, first hand, that becoming the head of a state is not the same as being the leader of a handful of comrades in arms. You will begin with Minister Masters, and his negotiations with the humans."

With a swish of his cape, the King of Mobius motioned for his wife to follow him as he left, exiting to the Royal Wing of the Palace on his right. For her part, Sally sighed, and ran a hand through her hair. The arguments with her father had gotten worse and worse over the months, especially after Sonic started leaving on long trips here and there, and dismissing his appointed responsibilities.

Heading for her own chambers, Sally made no effort to rid herself of the four courtiers who flocked around her, dressing and preening. They chattered on, about how beautiful she was, and how she had spoken wisely towards the King, making sycophantic nuisances of themselves. They were all the youngest daughters of court nobles, and hoped to raise their own station in life by leeching off her in anticipation of when she became Queen.

Sally had seen that even her Mother had them, when she bothered to spend him at the Royal Court during the war. Those had supposedly been 'old friends' of her mothers, and Sally worried that if that was what her mother had for friends, she really had none at all.

Oh, life had been so much simpler when the war was on!

Back then, she had brushed off her courtly duties, stating quite accurately that there was no time for such indulgences, and that there was always something war-related to occupy her. It seemed she had only been putting off the inevitable, and if anything, her tenacious absence from the court had made her all the more appealing and endearing. Sally could stand it, as a part of her duty to the country, but she sure as hell didn't like it.

She was discovering that she didn't like a lot of things she had to live with.

"Go go go! Leave me!" She finally commanded, as she got to her personal quarters. The four courtiers quickly scattered, leaving Sally alone. She opened the door, walked quickly across the room, and fell on her bed, face buried in her arms. She could feel the wetness in her fur, and knew she was crying, if only a little, and hated herself for it.

What did she have to cry about?

There were so many others, so many with nothing. So many without families. So many without jobs. So many without homes or even food and water. Still, she felt so alone, so isolated, so different... from everyone. Was she really deluded? Was she really still living in a world where everything was black and white: Mobians vs. Robotnick?

Maybe she wasn't fit to rule.

She wished that Sonic were here, if only so she could talk to him. She looked at the pillows on his side of the bed, unused for over a week, and wondered what he was doing on Angel Island at that moment. Was he on a mountain somewhere, surfing to his heart's content? Was he talking with Knuckles, and joking about the past? That last one seemed unlikely, given that the two had had a fall out over the circumstances that led up to Tails' death.

She looked over at the room's large dresser, and saw the stand that normally held Sonic's Chaos Emerald. It was empty, as Sonic had taken the Emerald with him again. He seemed loathe to part with it, even for short periods of time, and whenever Sally asked why he took it with him so often, he brushed her off. She was tempted to hide it, but there was so much else to worry about.

She hadn't seen Bunnie in weeks, since she and Antoine started to have relationship problems, and went back to help her family rebuild their farm in the Great Plains. The coyote was still around; being head of the Royal Guard tasked to defend the Palace and the First Family. Like all of the Royal Guard, he almost never left the Palace, living in separate quarters in the East Wing. Still, they hadn't crossed paths very often, for some reason.

Rotor was still in the hospital, recovering.

The King had ordered him to try and find a way to engineer artificial Chaos Emeralds using Ring Energy (apparently, a small fake emerald was part of the power plant in all of Miles' Cyclone War Machines), and Rotor had had a lab accident when the machinery exploded. He had told the King that he had little to no idea how Miles had gotten everything working, and that only the Dark Legion would have a prayer of replicating the procedure, but the King had forced him to try anyway. And as if to make a bad situation worse, the experiment had totaled the Ring Generator that had been pulled out of the pond in Knothole.

Alone.

She had always assumed that, of everyone, Tails would still be around. She had always just needed to call for him, and he was there. The young kitsune had not had the wanderlust of his hero, and he had always been knowledgeable and eager to talk with her about things Sonic had no interest in. He had been like a little brother, or a close nephew, and the last they had seen of each other was that confrontation before he left to take the Eggcarrier. She had been so angry at him, and not without justification, but she had still loved him.

And then...

She had looked out from where she stood, flanked by General Stryker (of all mobians), as a massive wave of light and fire erupted from the crashed ruins of Robotropolis, remade as Helios. Moments later, a shockwave had knocked her off her feet, but she remembered knowing – then and there – that Tails had been the cause of it, that he had been in the center of it, and that he had not survived.

Now, only Prower Crater stood where Tails had once been.

Gone. Completely gone.

And what did he have to remember him by: an obelisk in Knothole, and a statue in the Garden of Heroes outside the Palace. Or so she had thought. Now there was something else: a child! Unless Rouge had been lying, which was entirely possible, Tails had a child on the way! What would the child look like? Was it a boy or a girl? Sally found herself intensely curious.

And then she smiled.

Out of all her friends, she had never thought that Tails would have a kid first. Rolling over on the bed, so that she was looking up at the ceiling, she wondered who would be next. In all likelihood, that would be Knuckles and Julie-Su. At least they were the same breed, so they wouldn't be any potential problems... then again, having seen an echidna infant still in an egg, she didn't envy Julie-Su particularly much. Only humans had a harder time of it, from what she'd heard.

'Sonic...' she thought, and tried to imagine what he'd say when he found out about Rouge's condition. He'd probably want to see how fast the kid can run, though that was years in the future. Maybe he'd want one of his own? Sally wasn't sure she was ready for something like that. Part of her hesitation was a lingering skepticism about the current peace. Sure, Robotnick seemed to be dead, but they had been fooled before...

And, aside from that, she just felt nervous about the whole thing.

She didn't want people thinking that, if it was a boy, she was only ruling in his name. She did want to be Queen, and she did want to rule, and she wanted to be the first Queen to act without having to do so through an underage son. She shuddered, as she thought of Queen Drusilla Commonus Acorn, who had ruled through a succession of five male children, all but the last of which conveniently died before they could become King. The last had been Marius II, and he had his mother executed at the age of ten.

No. All that was the past.

She would be Queen, and a good one at that!

Rolling over to her side, she took out Nicole, and plugged the minicomputer into a small port on the desk. It allowed the AI to access the Palace Computer Network. She checked her mail, first, halfheartedly hoping for a message from either Sonic (no luck), or Tempest (who had promised to get in contact with her again). Neither of them sent anything. Sonic, at least, had the presence of mind to do so from time to time. Tempest, since his return to the North, hadn't sent anything at all, electronic or paperback. She had given him a communicator, but he obviously hadn't used it since his super brief 'test – this is a test' message.

Then, resigned, she read the news, especially the parts pertaining to the problems in Casino Night (there was only an editorial, whose author described the 'plagued' conditions of many Casino Night neighborhoods, and the 'Ginger Culture' that was destroying the city's youth). News about the bilateral human-mobian talks was also of interest, especially if she was now going to be sent to learn about foreign policy under the wing of Foreign Minister Lucas Masters.

There was also a reprinted version of an interview that was of interest.

Sally started at the human's face, trying to pin down where she'd seen it before. It was difficult, given how most humans looked alike (Sally had no idea how they told each other apart), but she eventually got it, and snapped her fingers in recognition.

"Aya Florentine," she said the name, and remembered seeing the woman at Tails' funeral. She had also been the woman who sent her underlings to insist that the human dead not be buried anywhere near their mobian comrades after the battle was over. Sally read over the interview, which had originally aired several days ago on a human news program.

S. Summers: "What was your view of the mobians during the Battle of Knothole? In your professional opinion, how did they fight?"

A. Florentine: "They fought remarkably well. Their organizational sophistication, particularly among the dingo, was on par with our own. They fought with tenacity and courage, in the face of overwhelming odds. Unlike during the Great War, they did not cut and run when they began to take heavy casualties."

S. Summers: "It sounds almost like you respect them."

A. Florentine: "I have respect for what they can do, Ms. Summers, and I don't plan on underestimating them."

And later...

S. Summers: "What do you think of the current and ongoing negotiations between the Protectorate and the Mobians?"

A. Florentine: "I firmly believe that mankind can only benefit from an enduring and lasting peace with the mobians of this world."

S. Summers: "Coexistence?"

A. Florentine: "Of course not!" (laughs) "Mankind does not, by nature, coexist. However, as is written in one of the ancient texts: 'He who knows when to fight, and when not to, will always be victorious.' For the moment, indeed - well into the future – mankind should pursue peace. The mobians will agree to this, because they also have wounds to heal. Only the echidna are really in any position to have foreign adventures. We, as superior human beings, can find a natural order where we are dominant in peacetime, through superior economic, political and cultural institutions."

S. Summers: "You believe, then, that a war with the mobians is unnecessary?"

A. Florentine: "A war of ... a war like... the last one should be reserved for when it benefits other policies. War is a tool of policy, not one in and of itself. In a way, then, I suppose that does make war less attractive, but certainly not unnecessary. There are simply more reasonable and less risky routes to take at the moment, I believe."

It was a remarkably moderate position, for a human.

Then again, the only human Sally really knew was Hope Kintobor, who had stayed with them at Knothole for over a year. She had been the only human in Knothole during that time, and since the death of Nate Morgan. Sally wondered what had happened to her.

She quickly typed up a message to Antoine.

As her father threw a fit whenever she left without an escort of Royal Guards, she'd bring Antoine along with her. Finding Hope would help keep her mind off other problems, and maybe even provide some insight into how humans thought. Lucas Masters was a good enough mobian, from what she knew (not like that leering old bastard Comstock), and he respected research and preparation. If she could help force a breakthrough in the bilateral talks, her father would have no choice but to concede that she had a statesman's skills.

Sending the message, Sally almost forgot about how Sonic wasn't around.

And how he seemed more attached to a lifeless rock than his own fiancée.


Devil's Island Prison Complex...
Better known as Devil's Gulag.

A voice. "You're quite right. That's the first thing we'll do. Won't everyone be surprised?"

Another voice. "Shut up, Drago!"

Another. "You goin' crazy in there 'r somethin'?"

A chuckle. "That's good. That's good. It's like you're reading my mind. Oh? You are reading my mind?"

Another. "Shut the fuck up, asshole! People is trying to sleep!"

Another. "Alright, alright! What's all this ruckus, now? You bastards get back to sleep!"

Officer Lewis didn't like C Block. It was the wing of the prison part of the Gulag that held the real scum: rapists, murderers, and political prisoners. Traitors to the Crown, all of them. The third level, though normally quite quiet, seemed to be rather the opposite tonight. Holding his nightstick, Officer Lewis walked past the cells of one inmate after another.

"Hey, Officer!" One of the inmates, a green skinned toad, spoke up. "Drago's snapped. He's been talking to himself."

"I'll take care of it." Lewis assured him, and kept walking. Seeing his approach, most inmates fell silent. The Devil's Gulag was a work prison. Which meant it was a place where prisoners were worked, usually to death. Officer Lewis comforted himself with the fact that most of those who died here well and truly deserved it. It was a deferred death sentence for the few whom, foolishly, thought they had a prayer of escape.

That wouldn't happen on Lewis' watch.

Security at the DIPC was tighter than ever before, after the prison's first and only 'successful' prison revolt. Most of the inmates were kept in a physically weakened and exhausted state, anyway, so there was rarely much trouble from them. Working in the bitter cold, down in the mines, tended to break a mobian's spirit and body faster than any nightstick.

Not to say that the nightsticks didn't help...

From time to time.

"Alo alo what's all this now?" He approached the obvious source of the disturbance: the cell of one Drago Blackdance, lupine, guilty of conspiracy, treason, several counts of murder, and 'gross political agitation.' He was a terrorist by any definition of the word, hence his special arrangement to serve in the Devil's Gulag. That aside, Lewis knew Drago to generally be a well-behaved prisoner. He was dumb enough to think about causing trouble, but smart enough to know not to when he couldn't get away with it. Lewis much preferred that type to the ones who'd lash out at random, even if it meant a severe beating later.

But he was still a lupine, and a big one, too.

Lewis was a badger, and large for a mobian, but he was no lupine.

The guardsman had seen him at work, pulling and pushing heavy loads, and for the most part the other prisoners kept their distance and didn't cause Drago grief. As far as he knew, none of them had tried to have 'fun' with Drago in the showers, and Drago hadn't felt the need to play either. Some of the more disturbed guards had joked about 'breaking him in,' but none had the guts to try it. He usually took his beatings in stride, too, which Lewis appreciated. The fact that he did also meant he was rarely wailed on. There was no fun or purpose to it, except to remind everyone that they lived or died on a razor's edge.

"Oi! Drago! You hear me?" Lewis peered into the cell, and saw Drago on his bed, cradling something in his lap. "What you got there? Eh! What you hidin?"

Drago didn't answer at first, but eventually replied, after a few seconds of silence. "Do you really want to know?"

"Yeah! Yeah I do!" Lewis barked back.

"Do you reeeealy want to know?" Drago sing-songed.

Lewis thought he saw a large shadow move along the wall, but chalked it up to bad lighting. He slammed his nightstick against the bars.

"Don't make me ask again, Drago! You show me what you got there, or you're in for it, you hear? You in for it somethin' fierce!"

"Ok. Ok. If you insist." Drago relented, his voice soft. He slowly stood up, still holding the object in his hands. It looked odd, sort of hard. Definitely not a rumbled up sheet or makeshift pillow.

"You take that outta tha mines?" Lewis asked, narrowing his eyes.

"No... no... a friend gave this to me," Drago said, and slowly turned to face the guard. Then, he reached up, and held it to his chest. For a second, Lewis swore that he saw a strange red glow.

"You're too far away..." Drago's arms fell to his sides, but neither held the strange object. "If you want to see it, you'll have to come closer."

"Eh now, I don't know what kind of trick yer tryin' ta pull, but your..." Officer Lewis never got to finish his sentence. Suddenly, faster than the blink of an eye, a white hand closed on his mouth. Lewis made muffled noises, and tried to pry the fingers loose, but to no avail. Drago's fingers had dug deep into muscle and hooked behind bone. It was impossible to break free.

A chuckle came from inside the cell.

"A little... closer... Officer Lewis. That's it." The hand pulled his face closer to the bars, and the badger's motions became more frantic. "Closer. Closer! You're almost there, Officer! Closer!!"

Slamming his hands against the hard bars and stonewall, Officer Lewis felt pressure on his head increase, as he was pulled more tightly against the steel. Then, with a crunch, his head disappeared behind the bars, pulled through the too-small space. Then, with a few more wet, popping sounds, his shoulders and torso followed, bones breaking and snapping like twigs.

Finally, Officer Lewis' legs slid in through the bars.

"Now do you see it, Officer?" Drago asked, holding the broken corpse in the air. He tilted his head to the left, and then the right, in mock concern. An eerie red light from his chest highlighted his features, and the amused sneer on his face. "Yes? No?"

"Hey, what's goin on?" One of the prisoners yelled.

"What happened?" Another asked.

Drago released his bloodstained grip, and let the body fall to the ground. He turned to a shadow in one corner of the cell.

'How do you like it?' A thought entered Drago's mind.

"Heh." The lupine smirked. "Beats the hell out of the stuff Robotnick gave me."

'Good. Go on, now. Places to go...'

"People to see. And kill. I know. I look forward to it." The white wolf stood in front of the wall at the opposite end of his cell. There was a small barred window looking out over the sea. Clenching a fist, Drago took one swing, and effortlessly reduced the wall to rubble. Looking out over the hole he made, Drago saw a drop of some hundred or so feet.

"How will I contact you?" He asked, over his shoulder. "I doubt you're in the yellow pages."

The shadow drifted back, broke apart, and faded into the other patched of darkness.

'Don't call me...'

"I'll call you. I got it." Drago went back to the suicidal fall ahead of him.

And with a smile, he jumped.


Dulcy climbed the steps with a measure of anxiety.

She was high in the mountains, at a dragon roost carved into the very top of a great white peak. A fall for most any creature would be certain death. Simply breathing here, where earth met atmosphere, would drain even the most physically fit mobian or human. This was a lair of dragons, secluded and far from the prying eyes of mundane creatures.

Further below the pinnacle of the mountain, Dulcy's Flight roosted, among their own homes, carved into the rock. But this roost, above all the others, was a special place. A forbidden place, or so she had been told. This roost was the most ancient, the most holy, the most coveted.

This was the roost of the God of Dragons.

She made her way up the colossal steps, and past the windswept sculptures carved into ancient stone. This place had existed, the other dragons had taught her, since the beginning of time. Since the first Dragons were given form and life by their Great Maker. This was a place of mystery and long forgotten secrets. And though she didn't know it, this was a place that would change her life forever.

Higher and higher, the steps led.

Out for miles, the Charon Mountain range stretched, a sea of earth pillowed by snow, ice and clouds. It was cold enough that even a dragon felt chilled. Still, she pushed on, her excitement growing with every careful step. Since returning to her kind, to live among other dragonkin, life had consisted of mixed blessings. Her immediate family was gone, but she had been taken in by her uncle on her mother's side, and welcomed into the small community of the Flock.

She had met other dragons, young and ancient, who secluded themselves from the rest of the world, living a life of contemplation and self discovery. Some of the truly ancient ones could take a more mundane form, and walk among mobians, or (it was rumored) even humans. Those were the Old Masters who guided the different Flocks of dragonkin. Before today, Dulcy had only spoken with one once, after her return. She had asked about the outside world, and the mobians Dulcy had befriended.

All that had been wonderful... then had come her arranged mating to Zan.

She had known, in a way, about it for many years. Her parents had mentioned him once or twice, but she had never give it much thought. Zan was a full generation older than her, as dragons measured time, and of the nearby Crimson Flock. He was strong, if not particularly bright, and very confident of himself. His scales and facial architecture were, to be sure, very attractive, as were his claws and haunting orange eyes. He was a handsome, even beautiful, male.

She had thought herself lucky, at first.

After all, she was hardly the most attractive of female dragonkin. When Zan said as much, however, she had felt deeply hurt. Still, he maintained that an arrangement was an arrangement, and that they be mated. She had tried to better mold herself, to make herself more appealing, but soon after the final arrangement ritual, Zan had begun to show a more ugly side of his personality, if not his body.

He was cruel.

And while it was true that most dragonkin males were somewhat vicious, and that Dulcy even found it physically appealing, male wyrms were supposed to reserve that behavior for quarrels and snaps amongst themselves. So when he turned on her for the first time, it had been more a surprise than anything else. Only later, when it became more systematic and repetitive, did she begin to wonder if something was wrong.

At first, she had thought it was her.

She was, after all, the younger dragon, and the less physically developed. So she bore with it, and tried to cut out the part of her that made him angry. To this day, she didn't know what it was that set him off so much. Things may have continued that way for years, had they not run into Sonic and the rest. He had opened her eyes, and probably saved her life. He stood up for her when she wasn't standing up for herself.

Where Zan was now, she didn't know.

He was Ethal Paradananok – he was an exile. A Ghost to the Flock.

And Dulcy was alone, in an empty Roost. Most of the Flock kept their distance from her, out of fear or confusion for her plight. Perhaps, in years, they would once again open up to her, but to her such a timeframe seemed like an eternity. She was not used to lying alone, curled in a tight ball for months, deep in thought. She needed a purpose. She needed something to do. The Freedom Fighter in her demanded it. Then, out of the blue, she had been summoned to see the Old Master of the Jade Flock.

And the Old Master had directed her to Ascend to the Divine Roost.

Dulcy blinked, keeping her eyes moist against the cold wind. She was nearly at the top. She had no idea what she would find, if anything. The Divine Roost was spoken of in such hushed tones, with a mixture of reverence and fear, that Dulcy knew next to nothing about it. One of the things she did know was that the Jade Flock had always guarded the Stairs to the Divine Roost, since generations before the birth of the most aged Old Master.

Finally, she climbed the last few steps, and stood before the Divine Gate.

It looked at first like a massive grid of iron bars, but as her hand reached for them, seeing no lock or handle, she felt a tingle of energy pass down her arm. Ripples of thick-as-liquid air spread from where she touched the Gate, but otherwise it offered no resistance. Swallowing nervously, she pushed forward, and passed through the distortion, and through what had appeared to be solid metal.

She found herself under a great dome.

Looking behind her, she saw only solid rock. Facing front again, she could see quite clearly, even though there didn't seem to be any visible source of light. The walls themselves seemed to give off a low viridian light, a reflection of their own vibrant green color. Everything seemed to be made of carved jade, and Dulcy could see, etched into the walls, pictures and relieves... delicately carved pillars and faces sporting yellow-green eyes.

And, for a moment, it was as still and quiet as the grave.

Then, she heard a slight rumble, and felt a small tremor. The sound of something rough and coarse moving against polished stone reverberated throughout the giant cavernous space. High overhead, something seemed to move. Dulcy blinked, and rubbed her eyes, and watched transfixed as one of the massive frescoes inched along the ceiling. Following the movement, she saw that it was huge, coiling around other pictures and carvings, for hundreds of feet all around her.

It was a Dragon.

A dragon of immense size, somehow existing within the jade of the Divine Roost. She immediately lowered her head in respect and reverence, and held her hands out over the ground. She had never kowtowed so low before, but it had never been necessary. She watched, amazed beyond words, as the living mural coiled and constricted into a ball of pulsing green light. Then, that light began to solidify and form a body.

It was not the body of a normal dragon.

The body was humanoid, but obviously serpentine. The face was bony, but heavy set, with small horns splaying out from the base and underside of the jaw, the brows set over small but incredibly bright yellow eyes, and over the crown of the head. Two massive horns also sprouted out from the sides of the skull, curving outward and then straight up in a shallow crescent. Feathered wings grew out of the back, before draping themselves over the creature's shoulders, creating a flowing white cloak that touched the ground, a full three meters later. Behind the God of Dragons, a long thick tail hung at ease, moving only slightly to stay off the ground. Along it, especially at the end, spikes became spikes, long and sharp.

"My... my God..." She gasped, and quickly shut her mouth.

"I am he. I am the God of Dragons," the entity spoke, and his voice sent chills down Dulcy's spine, even as the chamber became warmer and warmer.

"You summoned me?" Dulcy asked, after summoning her courage. The being in front of her didn't blink, or smile, or express any outward emotion.

Finally, he answered.

"Yes."

Dulcy licked her lips, and was about to ask why, when he cut her off.

"My child, you are filled with confusion. And doubt. Insecurity and fear. These are the wounds that life brings, even to Dragon Kin. These are the failings that make you mortal."

Dulcy closed her eyes, and nodded just a tiny bit.

"You need not be mortal," the God said, and Dulcy felt another shiver go down her spine. "I had your Flock Master summon you here because, out of all my children, you would appreciate this gift the most."

The God of Dragons held out a large scaled hand. At first, it was empty, and then something materialized. At first, Dulcy thought it to be a diamond – a diamond larger than any she had ever imagined. And then she saw it for what it was.

"A Chaos Emerald?" She asked, mystified.

"My pure white Emerald. As clear and flawless as the deepest diamond. My most perfect Gem of Chaos." Then, the God of Dragons did smile. "I am in need of a Priestess. With this gift, and this task, will come a release from all the imperfections of the mortal coil."

"All the imperfections..." Dulcy repeated, entranced. Slowly, she stood, but still stared up at the tall being in front of her. "Doubt. Insecurity and fear..."

"Will all be washed away." He held out the Emerald. "Take it. Take it, and become my Priestess! Take it."

With shaking hands, Dulcy reached out, and her fingers brushed the surface of the Emerald. They lingered for only a second, before grabbing hold of the Emerald's sides, and taking it from the God of Dragon's open hand. Dulcy held it in front of her, hypnotized by the reflection of light from within the clear diamond, and with a sigh, her eyes closed, and she fell unconscious.

At the feet of her new God.

"Rest assured, my child..." A hand reached down, and gently stroked the side of her face. "Doubt. Insecurity and fear. All these will be washed away. Washed away by a tide of Chaos."

The God then spread his wings, great and wide, and laughed.

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End – NWO Interlude Part 1

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