Sally couldn't believe how much Hope had grown.
The woman who stood in front of her, hand gesturing to enter the apartment, was a far cry from the girl who had lived in Knothole after the destruction of Station Square. She had heard that humans experienced rapid growth spurts during puberty, but had never seen it with her own eyes. She had to look up, actually look up, to see into Hope's eyes, and Sally knew she was no slouch in the height department herself.
"Please, come in. Would you like a drink?" Hope asked, with a familiar small smile. She still had her overlander accent, with soft 's's and vowels. Human speech, Sally knew, used a lot of inflection and complex pronunciation. "Gold Cola, maybe? Or Titan?"
'Soft drinks?' Sally wondered, silently, before remembering that Hope, despite her newfound height, was still very young by human standards. She smiled back at the gesture, though she wasn't very thirsty.
"That's quite alright…" She started to say, but Hope cut her off.
"No! No! It's no problem, Sally! Really!" Hope insisted, and Sally was glad she took such an informal approach to their relationship. Sally had been Hope's mentor for many weeks; Sally supposed that, if only for a while, their association had been similar to how she and Tails had been.
"Gold Cola is fine, then," Sally replied, and then looked over her shoulder at the other mobian present. "Antoine?"
The coyote had been silent since he, Sally, and a cadre of Royal Guards had arrived at Hope's apartment building, in downtown Mobotropolis. His eyes scanned the main room of the apartment suspiciously, but after a few seconds he seemed to relax. Closing the door behind them, content with the two Royal Guards standing watch outside, he let the façade crack and gave a crooked smile of his own.
"Tze same, please," he said, and bowed his head slightly.
"Of course! Have a seat anywhere. The place is a total mess, I know, but bear with me!" Hope grinned widely, and walked into the nearby kitchen. Sally watched her for a second before finding a place to sit on a large couch. Antoine sat nearby, in an armchair. There was a coffee table, but it was covered by books, magazines, and a small notebook computer. It really wasn't much of a mess (Sonic, Sally knew, could really make a mess of a place), but Hope had always been overly conscious of herself.
When Hope walked back in with three glasses of soda and ice, Sally again tried to interpret the changes in the human girl. She was taller, and somewhat lankier, that much was obvious at first glance. She still had a long mane of hair, in that odd color the humans called blonde, and it was still curled at the ends just above her shoulders. Her hairless skin seemed a bit paler, too, but her blue eyes were the same as before. She wore denim jeans and a white tee shirt without adornment or markings. White socks covered her feet. She also, Sally noted, seemed to be developing a more mature shape.
Such a thing was easier to discern in humans.
But she also knew, in a vague way, that the humans thought of physical maturity differently than mobians did. It highlighted the problem she wanted to address. She knew things about humans, but she really didn't understand them. Sally doubted any mobians really understood humans or overlanders. Still, she was eager to see if Hope could help bridge that gap.
"Once again, I'm sorry I wasn't available earlier. I've been very busy, you see… I've got lots of studying, and meeting with Ms. Florentine and the rest. Its been very hectic," Hope explained, and handed Sally and Antoine each a cold glass. Both nodded their thanks in turn.
"I understand perfectly," Sally answered. "Are your studies doing well? I'm sure you're ahead of the curve."
Hope smiled wanly and sat down next to the Crown Princess. "I wish! I'm taking the placement exam a year early, plus I've had to compensate for those years after The Fall… My last practice exam had me scoring only a 3480 – barely in the eightieth percentile. My language skills are quite good, but I'm a little weak in math and military history."
"I am sure tzat you wills be, how you say? Pullings through?" Antoine scratched behind his right ear, a sure sign that he was a little nervous and had no idea what she had said. Hope bushed off the whole matter with a wave of her hand.
"But that's my problem. How can I help you, Sally? Antoine?" The young teenage human took a drink from her glass of soda, before putting it down on the cover of one of the hardcover books on the table.
"I wanted…" Sally paused, to think over how to phrase things. "I want to know more about humans. About your people. I want to… to understand them."
Hope briefly closed her eyes, and smirked. "I was hoping you just wanted to talk about old times."
Sally held up her hands in a gesture of peace. "I didn't mean so say that I don't want to reminisce, but…"
"I know. I know. Right to the point." Hope nodded. "So: I know what you want to know. I know what you want to understand. I suppose I was too young to give you much of an answer back when… but maybe now I can at least be a little helpful. You want to understand why we hate you."
Hope sighed. "Why human beings and mobians can't just get along. That's it, right? It has to be. What else is there, between our people?"
Sally looked to Antoine, who seemed to be regarding the conversation with discomfort, and then back to Hope, who took another drink after her little speech. Sally eventually answered, honestly.
"That's it. Yes," she responded. "The history of humans and mobians is one of war and bloodshed. Of all manner of atrocities. Why? Mobians may fight against each other, but never with the vehemence and animosity displayed by humans. Why?"
"The truth is…" Hope paused, wondering whether to answer or not. "The truth is that I don't know. I don't think anyone knows. It isn't like we're born this way. After all, I don't hate you, or mobiankind, at all. And I'm almost 100 purebred human."
She held up her five-fingered hand, a visible symbol of her strong and dominant human genes. Only a tenth of the human population had the trait for five fingers. The rest were overlanders, with only four fingers on each hand. She made a rueful snort, and continued speaking.
"It isn't like, one day you get a memo in the mail, or in your dreams, telling you to go out and kill mobians. It just seems to be the natural way." Hope frowned at that. "The natural way. Yea. That's it."
"Meaning what?" Antoine asked, cocking his head slightly.
"Human beings, and overlanders for that matter, are very different from mobians. This much goes without saying, but you have to understand the depth of the difference. While I've come to see that mobians and humans are very similar in many ways – more similar than dissimilar – these are, I think, completely irrelevant in the end."
"The similarities are irrelevant?" Sally asked, not quite understanding. "How can that be?"
Hope nodded at this. "Do you remember, Sally, when all the mobians my age went to see the apples being picked off the trees? How fascinated everyone was with the red apples?"
Sally nodded in response. "I remember. Everyone got to pick their own apple."
"Do you remember which apple I picked?" Hope then asked, but didn't give Sally the chance to answer. "It was the green one."
"A green apple?" Antoine made n acerbic expression. "Why woulds you…?"
"Because it was different," Hope answered, cutting him off. "All the mobian children, without being told, picked the more numerous red apples. I picked a green one. Because it was rare. Because it was different. And, more than any mobian, humans are both attracted to difference, not sameness. Maybe it has something to do with the way our brains are wired. I don't know. But having lived among both humans and mobians, I can say that while mobians generally focus on commonalities, humans focus on differences."
"And green apples are good," Hope added, totally off topic. "Mobians just don't have a taste for sour things."
"Differences…" Sally said, and pondered that. "Our differences?"
"Exactly. Take a good look at me Sally. Antoine. Would you consider me attractive?" Hope stood up and brushed her hair back behind one ear. Among other humans, the gesture would have been coy, but it did not have the desired affect on present company. Antoine looked away, not wanting to appear insulting. Sally also averted her eyes.
"My small round fleshy ears, my pink skin, my thin fingernails, no tail…" Hope 'hmfed' and then went on. "Not to mention my face. Flat. Snout less. Furless. A strange stub for a nose? Don't feel bad about seeing me as hideous. To mobians, I know I am. I'm used to it. Its quite alright… among my own kind, my looks have some charm, I know, but I don't expect to turn many mobian heads."
She then smirked. "I wonder what sort of pandemonium I could cause by walking around nude? I dare say it'd scar more than a few mobians for life."
"Those are only physical…" Sally responded tentatively, as Hope sat back down.
"Oi." Antonie grunted.
"'Only physical?'" Hope sighed. "If only it were that simple. Over time, humans come to dislike difference… especially dramatic difference, and especially when it is threatened by that same difference. It comes to see it not as a diverse expression of the many ways life can form, but at a divergence, or as a corruption of the way things should be. But all these are excuses, Sally. The real reason… the real reason I think so many humans hate mobians…"
Hope took a drink.
"The real reason is that the alternative is hating ourselves. Humans are more aggressive than mobians, I think. I'm quite certain there are even studies that can prove it. Human beings are inherently competitive, and need to feel positively about ourselves. Maybe its because we spend so many years as children, being looked after by our parents." She gave a derisive laugh there, and continued. "It doesn't matter, in the end. It is all human nature. We squabble and fight. If mobians disappeared, we human beings, we brothers and sisters in arms, we would turn against each other. Mobians may war with each other on occasion, but for human beings, the conflicts are eternal."
"Mobians, then, are an outlet for this. Compared to them, human differences are minute. That's the root of the issue, I think." Hope raised a delicate eyebrow. "What's wrong? Let me guess: 'What a shallow reason!' Right?"
"Something along those lines." Sally finally admitted.
"Hate doesn't need a good reason to exist." Hope shook her head. "Though I'm sure you could ask experts on this field, and hear something similar dressed up in fancy language. Maybe they'd call it… what's that word? Socioeconomic. They'd mention a struggle for resources, and stuff like that. I have no doubt that that plays a part in things, but the hate Sally…
For just an instant, Hope's sky blue eyes took on a sinister shade. "The animosity comes from human insecurity, and from our need to dominate."
Hope blinked, lowered her chin, and the gleam was gone from her eyes, replaced with seriousness. "And that, Sally… can be suppressed, but never fully removed from the human psyche. It is more a part of what makes us human than our clawless fingers, hairless skin, and flat faces. It goes deeper than genetics. It is programmed into our souls."
"You make it sound so final," Sally said, sadly. "So how can there be peace? And what about you? Are you saying that you have this… feeling, this inclination… even now?"
"Of course," Hope answered, without hesitation. "I want to think of myself as better than others – smarter, for example. I want to feel that I am of worth. I want to… need to… feel superior to somebody. Anybody. Saying it makes me sound heartless, I think. And maybe it is. But deep down, that is my nature."
"Are you sayings that tze mobians are not… ambitious?" Antoine asked.
"Don't think I'm describing simple ambition. Superiority is something similar, but different. Something… darker, I think." Hope sighed again, and finished her drink. "Sally… any deal you make with the Protectorate… do not put too much stock into it. Maybe the old government of Station Square would have been reasonable, but not this one. To many humans, any prejudice they feel towards mobians is secondary. To many, it is simply unimportant."
"Those are not the group who lead the Protectorate. They wear their hate like a badge. Dealing with someone like that… is like Dancing with the Devil. Be happy if he only steps on your toes. Even after Sonic and the others started fighting Uncle Julian in Station Square, their popularity was always tempered by suspicion." Hope cocked her head in thought. "Though, come to think of it… there was this one kid…"
"Hmm?" Sally wondered where Hope was going with this.
"Back in Station Square. He was two grades behind me, but I remember him because he was always around Sonic. A strange boy… I mean, many children back then were fascinated by Sonic, but this kid was obsessed with him." Hope shrugged. "Maybe it was because Sonic was living with him. I dunno."
"Sonic was living with this boy?" Sally asked.
"In a mansion. The kid was rich." Hope clarified. "I went over a few times and saw it for myself. Amy lived there too, and so did Tails… until he moved out to his Laboratory in Mystic Ruins. I remember that Tails and this kid had some sort of falling out… but I don't know the details."
"Chris Thorndyke! That was his name! Not many friends, really. And his parents were rarely at home – I only met them once, and only because they heard I was a Kintobor." Hope growled that last part. Her family past was still a sticky topic. "Neither of them seemed too pleased with Sonic living in their house, but it wasn't like they were there most of the time anyway. So I guess its no surprise that the kid followed Sonic around like a love starved puppy."
"Chris Thorndyke… I've never heard of him," Sally admitted. "Antoine?"
"Non." The last coyote also pleaded ignorance.
Hope nodded sadly at that. "I imagine he's dead then."
Sally gasped, covering her mouth with her hand. "But…"
"Almost no one his age survived The Fall of the city," Hope said, grimly. "You weren't there, Sally… you can't imagine what it was like... the Flooding of Station Square. Almost certainly, he would have been trying to get involved in the fight with Perfect Chaos. If Sonic never mentioned him to you, Sally, then he's almost certainly dead."
"Washed away like leaves in a gutter…" Hope's voice trailed off, and she closed her eyes tightly for a few seconds. When she opened them, she managed a smile, and stood up, walking quickly to the apartment kitchen. When she came back, Hope Kintobor, still barely into her teens, but old and experienced beyond her years, had composed herself.
"So!" She said, trying to be more cheerful. "How are you and Bunnie doing, Antoine? How about you and Sonic, Sally?"
The two mobians smiled too, as they danced around the problems in their respective relationships. And, though she was relieved to broach a less fatalistic topic, Sally silently ran through what Hope had said. Were humans and mobians truly beyond overcoming their differences? She found it difficult to reconcile this Hope with the quiet, but observant, child who had lived in Knothole.
Was it living among her own kind that made her like this?
Or was it the Fall of Station Square?
Beneath Hope's bright smile, there was a hidden darkness. She had seemed so helpless as a child, but now she towered above her mobian friends, and despite her friendly demeanor, there was something alien about her. The inflection of her voice, the motions she made as she spoke, the complex expressions on her face…
'The animosity comes from human insecurity, and from our need to dominate.'
Sally found herself scowling at the words.
'You don't think we should even give peace a chance?' Sally wondered, but never said as much. 'I refuse to believe that! The only alternative is endless war! The only end in sight: genocide!'
'I can't believe that!' Sally's right hand clenched into a fist. 'I can't!'
Espio didn't particularly like what he had been asked to do. Still, he trusted Vector, and was willing to follow through, even if it meant spying on a friend. Plus, he wasn't sure he could even pull off what Vector had asked him to do. Espio knew that his chaos-enhanced abilities were far superior to any other mobian chameleon's, but the current circumstances were pushing him to his limit.
Invisible to all present, Espio stood rigid and unmoving – not flinching a single muscle. Directly in front of him, Knuckles waited, doing all he could to draw attention to himself. It wasn't difficult, really. As the Guardian, he was somewhat of a celebrity on Angel Island, and he and the Chaotix had a friendly rivalry with Remington and his Echidnapolis Security Agency. So Knuckles meeting with Remington was eventful, if nothing new.
Remington emerged from his office, an exasperated look on his face. "Knuckles!"
"Remington." The younger echidna returned the curt greeting. "It isn't like you to keep me waiting. Who was that on the phone?"
Remington's office was separate from the rest in the Agency Headquarters, but glass windows still allowed those nearby to look in, so long as the blinds weren't closed. The Constable had been on the phone for a few minutes, and apparently unable to dislodge himself even when Knuckles arrived.
"Gala-Na. She wanted to thank me for saving her," Remington said, a little angrily. By the Constable's tone, it was obvious there was something wrong with that assumption.
"Didn't you, though?" Knuckles asked, and motioned with his head for Remington to tell him on the way to whatever business had called the Guardian here. Espio followed close behind as they walked.
"This isn't supposed to be common knowledge… even Gala's being kept in the dark about it… but we were almost killed," Remington said with a huff. "My security botched the job, and we almost paid for it with our lives. The Tech boys say that the assassin's weapon overloaded, due to a close range discharge of electrostatic plasma. In other words, someone saved our asses, and he wasn't a member of the Agency. Dimes to dollars he was dingo, just like the assassin."
"What do you think?" Knuckles asked. "Maybe they staged it to take credit for saving you and Gala-Na?"
"They aren't admitting even being there. Frankly, I don't know what happened. I can only assume that the assassin was a rogue… but that doesn't fit the pattern of how Strkyer and his boys work. Dingo almost never go rogue like this. Most dingo officers are hesitant to take a piss without orders."
Knuckles coughed out a single laugh at that.
Remington sighed and waved his hand. "That isn't why I wanted to see you, anyway. I'll take care of the dingo…"
"So what do you need my help with?" Knuckles asked, a little impatiently. It was obvious that he was anxious to get back to the White Games being held in Ice Cap Zone.
"Something more up your alley. Something… paranormal, I suppose." Remington didn't seem to like the choice in words. He had always been the sort to put his trust in the absolute authority of rationality.
Knuckles was much the same. He 'hmfed.'
"Paranormal, is that it?" Knuckles tone was dismissive. "I don't suppose I can blame you for having that impression of me."
"Strange occurrences follow you like a shadow," Remington explained, though there was no need. "You and all Chaos Users."
The two echidnas entered an elevator and descended several floors while they talked. Espio focused on keeping invisible. It was extremely difficult in the more crowded parts of the building, but with only Remington and Knuckles present, he allowed himself to relax. So few creatures even thought to watch their back. Espio knew he could trail Remington almost indefinitely so long as he kept to the less populated parts of the building, but he was less sure of himself when it came to Knuckles.
Eventually, the two reached a sealed door, with a sign above it in black and red.
MORGUE
Remington leaned down, and a small orb glowed as it scanned his retinas. The morgue doors obediently opened, and the three mobians walked through. The morgue staff were present, in white lab coats, but paid no attention to Remington and his guest, much less the invisible Espio. As they walked to the area where the bodies were stored, another echidna walked up to meet them.
"Here to see our mystery guests?" The newcomer asked.
"Yep." Remington replied, and motioned for them continue. The morgue was large enough to house at least ninety bodies, storied all along a single wall in retractable bays. The Echidnapolis Constable stopped in front of the one labeled "18B."
Under the number of the bay was a smaller tag:
UNKNOWN (Female) (Echidna) (5601-78004)
"Open it," Remington ordered. "Let him see."
The other Echidna did as required, and unlocked the bay with an electronic swipe card. He then pulled it open with a hiss of cold air. Inside, lying peacefully, was the naked body of a young echidna girl. Knuckles eyes widened at the sight, and Espio's narrowed. He instantly recognized her as the girl that Vector had described as dying in his arms.
"Do you recognize this girl?" Remington asked, and looked up from the body at Knuckles.
The Guardian nodded. "She looks a little older, but it's her… no doubt about it. It's Tikal."
"That's the name your friend gave us as well." Remington was silent for a few seconds. "Did you know her?"
Knuckles tore his eyes away from the body. "Yeah… you could say that. But the Tikal I knew… this can't be her."
"Why?" Remington asked, with a certain intensity. "She isn't in any of the city records. How do you know her?"
"Tikal… Tikal has been dead for hundreds of years." Knuckles made a fleeting smirk at the irony. "This looks like her, but it can't really be. She was only a spirit…"
"A spirit?" Remington asked, unconvinced. "A ghost?"
"Er, less a ghost, and more a Chaos manifestation or… whatever. She didn't have a body… she existed in the Master Emerald, or the Chaos Emeralds, or something like that. I don't know the science behind it. I doubt anyone did, except maybe Tails." Knuckles lowered his head, and stared at Tikal's face. "No. This can't be Tikal. How did you find her? I mean, where did you find her?"
"A dumpster, just outside the city. Not in the dumpster, mind you, but next to it." The coroner on hand recited, from memory. "Fifteen days ago. Cause of death… if you can believe it… seems to be natural. She had a heart attack. We estimate she was dead for sixteen hours before we found her."
"A heart attack?" Knuckles repeated, disbelieving. "But this girl can't be more than fifteen years old!"
"You think that's unusual?" Remington pointed to the next storage bay: 19B. It, too, had a small label.
UNKNOWN (Female) (Echidna) (5601-78004)
But this had a rough "#2" at the end, in felt pen.
UNKNOWN (Female) (Echidna) (5601-78004) #2
Espio watched at the coroner opened this bay. Inside was another girl, identical to the first, except that her head was at an odd angle, and she looked partially decayed. The chameleon heard Knuckles suck in a surprised and disgusted breath of air.
"This one was found in a park, in Northern Echidnapolis, twelve days ago." The coroner explained in monotone. "In some bushes, actually. Cause of death seems to be a broken neck, between the third and fourth vertebrae, which resulted in paralysis and eventual asphyxiation. She was twenty nine hours dead when we found her."
"The rest, doctor," Remington ordered. They moved down to the next bay, and opened it. This one had a #3 written on the identification label.
UNKNOWN (Female) (Echidna) (5601-78004) #3
Inside was another body, another Tikal, worse looking than the one before.
"This one is from nine days ago. Note the lacerations around the neck and upper torso," the coroner spoke dispassionately. "Cause of death in this case was severe head trauma."
"What about… fingerprints?" Knuckles asked, almost desperate.
"No prints. The pattern of scratches and gauges almost seems reminiscent of claw marks, but the hand-pattern does not correspond to any mobian on record." The coroner gently opened one of the body's eyes. "The body was reasonably fresh when it was found… in the middle of a road. According to the driver who found her, she was dead when he found her. Lab analysis indicates that she had been dead only an hour before we brought her in."
"This is…" Knuckles upper lip curled. "Someone did this? How? Why?"
"Unfortunately, we don't have any suspects. There are no prints. No DNA evidence at all. Nothing. Just these dead bodies." Remington ground his teeth together. "At least until last week."
Knuckles looked at the Constable. "What do you mean?"
The coroner took out the fourth body. It was Tikal, but she was in worse condition than the others. There were more deep bloody wounds, on the body, arms, face and especially hands. There also seemed to be some pitting. Knuckles nearly gagged at the sight.
"This one… was alive," Remington explained. "At least for a little while. She was found in Edmund Park six days ago, apparently hysterical, and she accosted several citizens. She was dead by the time the authorities responded, but witnesses describe her as looking for something or someone."
"She died of a Pulmonary Edema." The coroner added. "Her lungs were damaged, and she literally drowned in her own blood. That was probably why no one could understand what she was trying to say. Of note here are the wounds on the arms and hands, indicative of those incurred when warding off an attack by a wild animal. She was obviously assaulted, but there are no signs of rape, at least. The pitting looks to have been caused by saliva or some sort of acidic agent, but none was recovered so this is only speculation."
"Terrible," Knuckles hissed.
Espio was silently inclined to agree.
"There's more." Remington pointed to the next bay. As expected, inside it was a fifth Tikal. Knuckles gagged, and turned away.
"As you can see," The coroner said, with medical detachment. "The body was opened up below the sternum, exposing the internal organs. One of the lungs was punctured by a bladed object, and deflated. The left arm has been broken in two places with enough force to allow bone to pierce the epidermis, and both arms display a similar pattern of lacerations to the other victim. Yet more pitting can be seen around the neck and left hip. Amazingly, this one was also alive, if only for a short time."
"She appeared Downtown, and was taken to Kami-Le Memorial Hospital. The doctors were unable to save her." The coroner then added. "She died of massive hemorrhaging and blood loss."
"And the last one, please, doctor," Remington asked.
"Of course." The coroner opened the sixth bay, revealing a sixth body. This one did not show the same overwhelming carnage of the last one. "This one suffered from massive internal injuries, the majority of which are consistent with blunt trauma. There are broken ribs, and what seems like a mild concussion. There is also evidence that this girl was … assaulted sexually. All the other girls were virgins, but not this one. We have been unable to recover any fluids consistent a standard rape scenario, which leads to my belief that the object used on her was likely inanimate. That would, at least, explain many of the internal injuries in that part of the body. Others, however… are baffling. It was almost like something mauled her from the inside out."
Knuckles was, by this time, growling deep in his throat. Espio, too, felt the indignation and rage build up in him, but knew that he had to keep his emotions in check or risk losing his invisibility.
"And before you ask, yes: these are all genetically the same girl." The coroner looked down at the body and shook his head.
"This one lived long enough to talk to Vector," Remington said, face scowling deeply. "She mentioned looking for you. For the Guardian. We've already spoken to him, he isn't a suspect in this, and recorded what he remembers hearing from her. I was wondering if you had any ideas about what all this means and who did this."
"Six Tikals… this doesn't make any sense…" Knuckles turned away from the body, and looked up at the ceiling. "She should be in the Master Emerald. She shouldn't be able to be killed."
"What do you know of this girl? Who is she?" Remington asked, and then corrected himself. "Who was she?"
"Tikal… Tikal lived a couple hundred years ago. Almost a thousand, actually." Knuckles took a deep breath. "She died at the end of the Carnivore War. When her father Pachacamac unleashed the Chaos creature from the Emeralds, she was killed and somehow ended up fusing with the Emeralds. Maybe when Chaos 'left' the Emeralds, she took his place? I don't know. Chaos ended up destroying the first Dingo City before going back into the Emeralds."
"When the Eggman… when Robotnick awakened Chaos to destroy Station Square, Tikal helped us. She told us how to defeat it. But like I said, she never had a physical body." Knuckles looked over his shoulder at the Constable, the coroner, and the sixth Tikal. "Not one hair, not one flake of skin."
"That would rule out traditional source cloning, but not genetic engineering." The coroner nodded, as he spoke. "Or perhaps these are further Chaos Manifestations? We've not detected any Chaos Energy in the bodies however, but that does not discount Chaos Manifestation. After all, we know so little about the science of Chaos Mechanics."
"Six bodies…" Knuckles said, speaking as he thought. "Maybe there's one for each of the Emeralds?"
"Do you think this has something to do with the theft of the Emeralds?" Remington asked.
"I don't know," Knuckles admitted. "But as of now, I'm going to find out. The Island Emeralds may be missing, but I know for sure where at least where the Master Emerald is. 'The servers are the Seven of Chaos. Chaos is power, power enriched by the heart. The controller serves to Unify the Chaos.' Those were her words. If something is wrong… fundamentally wrong… with the other Emeralds, then all of Angel Island is in danger!"
Remington understood what Knuckles had left unsaid. "As always, Guardian, you will have my support should you need it. As a fair turn, and a matter of courtesy, I expect you will share with me any information you dig up. Whoever did this… I wouldn't mind watching the State gas the bastard responsible. Not at all."
"I'll keep you informed," Knuckles shook hands with Remington, and the two left the morgue. Espio followed close behind as Knuckles left the building, knowing well that others would get suspicious if doors opened and no one passed through them. The chameleon was starting to feel good about his performance, until Knuckles suddenly stopped, after leaving the Echidnapolis Security Agency Headquarters.
"You can't follow me where I'm going next, Espio," Knuckles said, without turning his head. "Tell Vector… I think now might be a good time to talk to Charmy. I've got a really bad feeling about this."
Espio thought, only for a second, about keeping quiet. Then, he put an invisible hand on Knuckles' shoulder.
"Good luck," he said, simply, and ran past his friend.
"Good luck to you too." The Guardian whispered, knowing Espio would never hear it. "We'll both probably need it."
'Looks like I'm going back to Haven.' Knuckles cupped his hands, and cracked his knuckles. 'Lucky me.'
The Chamber was as silent as a tomb.
Even though it was the largest nursery on the planet. Prince Charmy of Goldenhive listened to his own breath, as he sat, deep in thought. He had an impressive view of the First Nursery. From the balcony on which he sat, he could see all down the length of the chamber. It was longer than it was wide, built to a precise geometric and stylistic design. Great arching supports connected the sides and the ceiling, keeping everything stable, even in the event of outside interference.
It was all to house and protect the Eggs.
The seemingly endless rows of Eggs, kept in deep indentations in the walls by the hundreds. Further down, only halfway to the end of the Chamber, he could no longer see them as individual eggs… only as a white blur. Only as a rectangular mass, carefully set into the massive nursery walls. And in the Greater Order, every Egg had its place… every life had its place, in birth, in life, and in death.
Such was the Way of Hive.
Such was the Will of the Colony.
The vast majority of the Eggs were workers – sterile female drones without sentience, living only to serve the Colony. Others were soldiers, who were also sterile female drones, but genetically engineered not for construction, but combat. And much rarer, kept not in the walls with the soldiers and workers, but in special receptacles upraised from the floor of the nursery, were Breeders.
'Breeders… like me.' Charmy mused seeing the tiny white dots far away and below. Breeders were the 'face' and 'brains' of the Colony. They directed the drones, possessed amble sentience, and strong wills… but they, too, served the Colony in their assigned Caste. Charmy was from the highest caste of Breeders. He was a Royal. While the entirety of the Hive consisted of extended genetic relations, Charmy had been designed, from birth, to be Prince.
In that Caste, in this Hive, he was completely alone.
Singular.
Unique.
Far away, in the nursery, organic pylons monitored and maintained the environment ad atmosphere. Occasionally, the nursery staff moved about, checking the Eggs and the self-perpetuating control systems. He didn't need to be preset, but he felt a responsibility to, especially in light of his current … situation.
His current dilemma.
Next to him, he felt Saffron shift, and nuzzle her face into the crook of his shoulder. She had drifted off to sleep almost an hour ago, and he made sure not to wake her. She was not heavy, and he usually forgot about the weight of her against his shoulder and back, at least until she moved or mumbled something. He smiled warmly at her, thankful for the company.
Moments like this, with such intimacy, would be impossible when the time came for them both to assume their Caste-given duties. She would be Queen, and would assume all the responsibility of running the Hive. And he… he would wither away and die, leaving a new Prince in his place. Such was his place.
He had told his friends that he had ran away from the Hive to avoid growing up. None of them could ever truly understand what he had feared. Vector and Espio and Mighty and Knuckles. Their fate would be different. For them, adulthood was not just a responsibility, it was a great adventure to look forward to. But for the Goldenhive Prince named Charmy, it was a death sentence.
Such was the fate he had been born into.
Birth. Life. Death.
He, too, was but a part of the Colony. And… strangely… he no longer resented that. Over the years apart from his people, he had come to see that responsibility was a part of life. That his responsibility to his people was more dire than most was really of no consequence. For this realization, he truly did thank his friends…. Especially the Guardian of Angel Island. Especially Knuckles.
Which made betraying his good friend all the more painful.
Below him, the Eggs waited. They waited for him, and for the order to hatch into the world. In this Chamber, and in a half dozen others, four generations were on the verge of hatching. They were not just servants of the Hive, of his Hive, Charmy had began to believe. They were His People. They were his brothers and sisters, by the thousands, all blissfully waiting for the chance to finally be born. Waiting. Waiting.
Some as long as he had been alive.
They were Workers and Soldiers and Breeders waiting to just to be born, but to awake into a world of war. They waited to be born into a conflict started for their sake, and in their name. A war Charmy knew, with despair in his heart, that he had no war of averting. A war that, in a different world, in a better world, would never have had to happen in the first place. For the Prince of Goldenhive, thus was his dilemma.
Between his family and his friends…
To serve one was to condemn the other!
The former Chaotix's thought were rudely interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps, and a low, rough voice.
"So," the unwelcome arrival said, walking up to the edge of the balcony. "This is where the Prince of Goldenhive hides himself?"
Charmy's eyes narrowed slightly, but he made the effort to appear more disinterested than angry at the sudden intrusion. Against his shoulder, Saffron gasped, ad straightened up, slowing awakening. Charmy found that he missed the feel of her against him, and the smell and feel of her hair against his cheek. But now was not the time for it. Not anymore.
To his left was a monster of a mobian. Charmy's appearance was close to that of most mammalian mobians, but this other was not. He was bipedal, with a single set of arms and a head, but the similarities petered off after that. This other mobian was covered by heavy armored organic plate, bristling with terrible spikes and spines. The body was harshly segmented between the chest, the abdomen and the pelvis. A pair of tough insectoid wings spread out from the shoulder blades, and the face was partially obscured by an organic helmet grafted onto the skull, and crowned by ink black hair. Long sharp antennae, like spears, twitched eagerly. This new arrival's coloring was a stark black and orange, not the normal Apidae black and gold.
He was the Prince of the Giant Hornet Hive called Yamato.
His name was Kenichi.
The Hornet Prince 'hmfed' loudly, his sharp black nose flaring.
"You see one Egg Chamber, you see them all," he said, looking out over the great nursery, his arms crossed. "Though as I think of where I stand, I can not help but appreciate the irony. After all… over the centuries, how many of your kind have died to keep mine from this place? Thousands? No: Millions most likely. But all that is history, isn't it, Prince Goldenhive?"
Charmy turned his eyes from Kenichi, and back to the nursery. He didn't answer.
"It is history. Ancient History." Kenichi continued, slowly getting to the point of his business. "After all the fighting, after all the years, here stands a Prince of Yamato Colony, not simply in peace, but as an ally. This is the glorious time in which we live. This is the purpose, the dream, for which we were bred."
Charmy still didn't answer.
Kenichi sniffed the air, and sneered. "I can smell it. Soon, these Eggs will hatch. Here, and in all the Seven Colonies of the Quaz Xialjyet. When they do, when our purposes are fulfilled, we will finally have peace – peace assured by expansion. Unfettered expansion, once the echidna and dingo are scoured from the island and from the world."
The Giant Hornet slammed his left fist into his palm with a loud clap. "Thousands of years ago, this land was ours… and it will be again! I, Prince Kenichi, will see this dream come to fruition!"
Charmy's frown deepened.
"And you… Prince Goldenhive…" Kenichi's cold black eyes settled on Charmy and Saffron. "In my dream, I see a Goldenhive amid the burned ruins of Echidnapolis. Doesn't the image just make you… shiver in anticipation?"
Charmy did shiver at that image, but not in anticipation.
"You have kept the other Princes waiting, and you have dismissed the attendants sent to retrieve you. As host, you should not disrespect the Conclave and your honored peers in this way." Kenichi smiled broadly, sharp teeth behind cruel lips. He turned and walked back the way he came. "We will wait for you, of course, but it is appreciated if you do not dally long among the Eggs. We Princes have a war to wage."
He walked away, heavy footsteps gradually diminishing.
"Charmy?" Saffron asked, her hand on his shoulder.
"I have to go," Charmy said, and stood up, leaving Saffron where she sat, legs under her, on the ground. "I'm sorry."
As he walked past and behind her, she closed her eyes and lowered her head.
"What are you going to do?" She asked, softly.
"What am I going to do?" Charmy blinked, and paused. "I'm going to do what I have to. What I think is right. If I am to be King, let me at least try and keep my principles intact."
With that said, the Prince of Goldenhive, and former Chaotix, left. Saffron didn't watch him go. When she opened her eyes, she looked out over the great nursery, and the sea of perfectly ordered Eggs.
"Your family or your friends…" She mused, knowing exactly how he thought, if not completely how he felt. "For us, what other choice is there?"
In Birth.
In Life.
In Death.
