Explosions defied proper description.
You really had to see one, or better yet: experience one, to understand what the word itself meant. The bright red and orange, with twists of black, all rising in a misshapen conflagration, glowing hotly and brightly, just for a moment, before dissipating and dying – he could picture it, just as he could picture the surprised and fearful faces of those caught in the blasts. Charmy could not see the destruction that was being unleashed by his command. It was too far away. But he could well imagine it.
The First Attack Wave, just now returning, would have swept down, striking at all the local defense, communications and control targets of opportunity. Echidna Radar had detected the intrusion into their airspace, and had scrambled a pitiful defense in the form of two squadrons of fighter aircraft. For those flying threats, so much faster than anything the Quaz Xialjyet had, they fielded over a hundred warrior drones armed with shoulder launched air-to-air missiles. In moments, those enemy fighters had gone down in flames, as clouds of black and orange erupted around them.
Then, the real attack would have begun.
Drones carrying explosives would have descended on the less well armored targets, while the elements of the first wave comprising their formal Bomber Brigades, piloting light ground attack craft, bombarded local air defenses and demolished strongholds and defensive bunkers, as well as directing attacks against runways and air control facilities. In blossoms of fire, the Angel Lake Shipyards had been rendered helpless for the second strike, which would cripple them for months to come.
Soon, the second wave, all bombers and escorts, would fall upon the airships under construction, including the EDS Manifest Destiny and the EDS Midnight Prayer. The plan laid out called for the destruction of those two carrier-battleship hybrids, as well as the annihilation of the rest of the Echidna Air fleet either docked in harbor for maintenance, or under construction. Which was to say: that had been the plan.
Charmy turned from the status screens to the airship's helmsman.
"Helm!" He barked, his voice loud but surprisingly calm. The Breeder caste member at the controls faced her Prince and sovereign.
"My Lord?" She asked, always ready to carry out the Imperial Will.
"Break formation with the Java and Okubo. All ahead, full speed," Charmy said, and then spoke to the Comm. officer. "Order the Golden Way into a flanking position behind this ship, and inform Prince Taji and Prince Ferric that I am pursuing an… 'alternate objective,' and that they should continue the operation as planned."
"Yes, my lord!" Both officers echoed their genetically ingrained response to his orders. A second later, the ship under his feet, the Spirit of Gold, accelerated away from the airfleet towards the Angel Island Shipyards. Looking up at one of the ship's biomechanical displays, Charmy confirmed the other Goldenhive ship, the Golden Way, coming up to the left and behind, matching velocity.
"My Lord!" the Comm officer spoek up, a few seconds later. "Prince Taji is demanding an explanation. No response from Prince Ferric."
"That is to be expected." Charmy sighed, and motioned for her to put the communication through to the main speaker and monitor. A few seconds later, the face of Prince Taji appeared on the main screen. He seemed agitated for some reason. Charmy smiled.
"Goldenhive! What are you doing pulling away from the fleet?" Taji ground his teeth together. "This wasn't in the battle plans!"
"These has been a change in plans, Taji. I am going to attack the Manifest Destiny myself. I wish to investigate its databanks, and make off with as much as I can before it is destroyed."
"Ah." Taji paused at that, obviously not having expected that response. Charmy didn't let him have time to think it over. He knew when to press another being off balance.
"Just focus your attacks on the other ships and hold position here. Enemy air defenses are down, but there's no telling what surprises they may have that we've overlooked. I don't want to risk any ships and lives but my own."
Charmy continued to smile.
Taji opened his mouth to speak, "Well… I suppose, but…"
"Good. Guard my back." Charmy motioned for the connection to be cut, and the screen went blank, before being replaced by a picture from one of the external cameras. Charmy allowed himself a growing smirk. He's sounded so reasonable, were he Taji, he probably would have believed it, too. That took care of that, at least.
He pointed to the comm. officer again. "Ready the Second Wave, and assemble all my personal guard in the secondary hanger. You'll find that we have three times the normal compliment of them on board. This is how it should be. Then inform the commander of the Golden Way that he is to do the same with the guardsmen I stationed on his ship. I want all of them ready to launch in twelve minutes."
The officer nodded once, and went to work.
As she did, Charmy left the bridge, his hands clenched tightly into fists.
It was time; he was ready.
The all terrain vehicle did not provide a smooth ride. Aya Florentine would have preferred a nice smooth cruise over the tree line in a hovercraft, but apparently the kitsune had objected to airborne vehicles in their territory. Which left her 'ground pounding' in one of their ATVs. It was a fine vehicle, really: very sturdy, very energy efficient, and with an amble armament in case of trouble. It was just wasn't what she was used to. It was no surprise that, as institutions, Fleet and the Groundhogs didn't usually get along.
Different worlds.
Still, there was little use complaining about it. Aya just reminded herself of all she had gone through in officer's training, back when the Terran Federation had still been around. In the Fleet, as in all the branches of the Military Civil Service, physical requirements for men and women were equally demanding. 'Body and Mind, hand in hand, both refined to a razor's edge' had been the Academy Motto. Those hard days seemed very far away now, and after all those years of relative relaxation, but had not left her entirely. She still remembered the lessons and the training… the good times and the bad, and it had all shaped her into a better person, of that she was certain.
"Ma'am!" One of her junior officers walked in, holding out several sheets of paper. The one on the top was marked, boldly: 'Top Secret – Theta/Blue Level Clearance or Above' – which meant that it was a fax from HQ. And it was definitely for her specifically, since no one else on the expedition had even mid level clearance.
In fact, Aya didn't recognize any of the women on the expedition.
She shrugged, took the papers (which had been thoughtfully paper clipped together with a black binder), and thanked the young aide. She then put the papers aside for later. Reading in a moving vehicle like she was hadn't really been very problematic in the past, but recently she'd had a series of brief headaches and cramps. There was little to gain in aggravating her senses and body. Any news could wait for them to pitch camp for the night.
Instead, she closed her eyes, and tried to sleep.
A few hours later, still restless from her inability to relax (what was that buzzing sound, anyway? Probably some fan in the back of the ATV), she checked her watch and ordered the small convoy to stop for the night. She checked a map, sent out a radio burst signal, and confirmed their location from HQ. It was a relatively crude procedure, but it was necessary, given their lack of secure GPS satellites in orbit.
Stepping out of the ATV, and looking around at the site they'd picked to stop at, Aya stretched luxuriously, joints popping and fingers flexing. It felt surprisingly good, and she seemed in much better spirits and health than just a few hours before. The next few minutes were spent organizing the group as they set up tents and a defense perimeter. It wasn't like she expected being attacked in the night, but it was SOP (standard operating procedure), so it was followed as a matter of course. Trip wires, alarms, automated defense guns, all were unpacked and set up, though not as quickly as Aya would have liked.
'Why didn't Mastermind let me pick who came along on this little field trip?' Aya wondered, a little moodily. 'Instead I'm saddled with a bunch of civvies and sophomores. Ones I'm not even familiar with. I'll have to memorize some of the crew manifest next time I get the chance.'
She checked her watch again, once everything was nearly finished being set up. It was nine o'clock, local time. That was fine. Aya preferred to keep the group well rested, and travel early in the morning. She looked up, and watched the horizon. It also meant that he was a bit late… typical. She picked a nice solitary spot to relax, and started to read through the report she'd gotten earlier.
A couple minutes later, another aide came by, and explained that they had received a coded radio message from an approaching craft. Aya nodded, and explained that it was expected. A coded reply was sent, with the necessary codes to pass through the defense perimeter with a hovercraft. It appeared soon after, a little speck at first, growing into a larger one man craft – a hoverbike, the smallest military hover-vehicle made by the old Terran Federation. It had little in the way of armament or defenses, but it was fast, and had surprising cargo capacity. It was a scout recon craft, and a good one at that.
Aya quickly straightened out her hair, before tying it into a ponytail at the nape of her neck. Her uniform looked fine, so she didn't worry about that. She watched, as the hoverbike landed, and extended her hand to the pilot after he had shut the engine off, and locked the parking supports in place. He took her hand, and jumped down from the pilot's seat.
"Aya!" he said, happily, and gave her a warm smile. "Great to see you again! How've you been?"
"Nothing exciting, really," she replied, and the two started to walk, side by side. Aya's companion was known as David Weaver, ex-military and now civilian, or as much as anyone in their organization could be called that. He was about her height, five and a half feet (a little short for a male human, actually), with short brown hair, and fairly unremarkable hazel eyes. Compared to her, he was casually dressed, in a traveling coat, brown shirt, black leather boots of standard issue, and cargo pants, no ranks or tags attached.
"Nothing? No massive battles? No kidnapping at the hands of mobian megalomaniacs?" he asked, still smiling.
"Not yet, anyway," Aya replied, also with a smile. "How about you? I'd heard that you'd cooperated with Lieutenant Forge before, but hadn't bothered to come back with him to Tesslik. He must've pulled you away from something juicy for you to want to save a few days' travel."
"He did, actually!" Weaver grumbled, smile fading for a second before returning. "I was in the middle of investigating some uncharted Tappenden Ruins when I got the call. Had to put everything on hold. I asked if they could take someone else, but apparently it just had to be me."
"I'd think chasing down a dragon would make your day," she then asked. "And what's this about Tappenden ruins? I didn't think there was much of anything around here. I figured you were down south in Cat Country when they called you out, not north…"
"First, it was a very interesting experience, catching that thing… Zan, it was called. I'm glad I went, and not just because it was an interesting study, but because it was raising a lot of hell, too. But that doesn't mean I lost interest in my other work." Weaver shrugged and patted his thick leather belt. Aya knew that normally it would be overloaded with tools and excavation gear, the trade of an archeologist and anthropologist.
"As for the Tappenden… well, I suppose I'm not surprised you aren't familiar with it. They were a dingo empire that ruled this shore, right up to the Felix Mountains, after the fall of the First Mogulian Republic. That was around 500 to 600 MC, give or take. Records aren't very reliable from that time and there are conflicting accounts of who founded what and when. In fact, the old 'wood capital' of Dingora is just a hundred miles south of here. But that's already been excavated by mobians – what's left of it, anyway. What I'm investigating is a new site, an old motte and bailey wooden fortress… little more than a mound, now, but I've already turned up some interesting findings and artifacts."
"Really?" Aya asked, not minding his lecturing in the least. She liked to hear him talk. It reminded her of when they were younger. David had known both of the Florentine sisters since before they entered the Civil Service, and Aya had always found his curiosity about the past endearing. Mya had generally found it boring. To many, Aya knew, the twin sisters seemed so alike, even occasionally finishing each other's sentences, but the truth was that they were very different people.
"The fort oversaw a trading village," Weaver explained, and then elaborated. "A trading village that had contact with the kitsune. A 'Jel'Arah' Clan. Luckily, Tappenden is similar to pre-impact dingo, and in the same basic script, so translation wasn't difficult. From what I gather, the village was doing well for itself, and had a close trading relationship with at least two nearby kitsune villages at the time."
"I take it was abandoned with the old Second Republic took over?" Aya asked.
"I thought so at first, but it seems to have been burned down long before that. I didn't find any artifacts that my equipment dated as older than twenty four hundred years." He sighed. "Pity the remains of the fort are in such poor condition. All I have to go by above ground are some stone foundations. All the wood's long since returned to nature."
"Maybe I should just ask what happened," Aya said, as they walked around the inside of the camp's defensive perimeter. "From what I've been given, the kitsune keep extensive records about the past. They're a bit like you in that respect."
"A bit like me, maybe. I've heard… things." Weaver paused. "Aya, you must be careful up there. I can't speak for the modern breeds, but the classical kitsune I've read about have a very dangerous reputation. I don't much like that you're being sent there without… protection."
"I'm a big girl, David," Aya replied playfully. "I can take are of myself. And if I am killed… then someone will take my place, and I will have fallen serving my country and my people."
"Always ready for self-sacrifice," David stated, and frowned. "I never liked that…"
"All those who fight should be ready to lay down their life for the greater good. No one seeks it out, nor are we expect to, but it is a possibility we all must acknowledge. Still, I can understand how you feel… with that GE Program you went through."
David grunted a response, that part of his past still being a bit of a sticky subject. Aya just walked with him in silence for a little while. While David Weaver had gone with her to the Academy for officer's training, and he had finished with high marks (less than hers, but still high), their lives had followed different paths soon after. Weaver had joined the Marines, and then GUN, after the fall of the Federation. Though she, too, had been a part of GUN in the Station Square Years, but the Fleet was kept under a separate arm of the organization, while the Marines and Army had consolidated.
During that time, Weaver had volunteered for one of the "GE" Genetic Enhancement programs under the auspices of the Advanced Research and Projects Directorate. Mya had been a part of that outfit, but Aya's twin had denied any knowledge of David being one of their test subjects. For his part, Weaver had been given a fairly standard gametically neutral 'genetic package improvement' to increase theoretical combat effectiveness. He'd run special operations for several years, as they evaluated the improvements they'd made, and when they'd finished their analysis, he retired to civilian life. He was one of many with a similar story.
Then Weaver noticed the papers under Aya's left arm.
"What're those?"
"These? A bunch of different things." Aya held one up, and gave it to him. "That's a reply from Mya and Mastermind. Apparently, they're putting off instituting a new Crèche for another year."
"Another year?" David took the two sheets of paper, and looked through what was written. "Why?"
"Dunno. A delay of 'nine to twelve months' they say. I've been petitioning for a national crèche system for almost two years. Now that we've settled in a general area, we need to start repopulating as fast as possible. A crèche, like in Station square – but more secure of course – is a first step."
Weaver nodded, still reading the report.
"Station Square's crèche could flash mature someone in six years. We're going to miss out on an entire generation because of their delay on this issue. The demographics of it scare me, frankly. The mobians, even the echidna, have already had their baby boom. We're outnumbered a thousand to one. In a generation, that may become ten thousand to one. These are not good odds, when the next war breaks out."
Weaver's eyes widened as he reached part of the report. "You offered to build one using the Military Budget?"
Aya looked up at the darkening sky. "I thought the problem was funding. Between Mya's experiments, Mastermind's… eccentricities, rebuilding the city and the economy, you can see how stretched thin the budget is. So I offered to build one, a small one, for military personnel who want to reproduce. As it stands, I just can't afford to give anyone leave to have a kid the natural way, so the crèche is the only option."
"You know, most parents who raise a child in a crèche regret it," David handed the report back to her. "Many clinical psychologists believe the child-parent relationship forms and cements during early childhood. There have been studies, back during the later years of the Federation, that point to flash maturation as a cause of familial dysfunction."
"I don't have nine months to waste carrying some little kid to term, much less the twelve years required to raise him enough for the state to step in. Of course when a national crèche is set up, I'll be among the first to donate eggs, and I'll gladly assume responsibility for any children I have, but the natural system is inefficient and wasteful."
"Even if it means only visiting your child once every two months, between maturation cycles?" he asked, and she shrugged again.
"If you want to go through the natural process, be my guest. Just don't expect me to." Aya scoffed. "Mya wants to do it all-natural, too, which I always thought was strange. My kids will be graduating and commanding ships in the Fleet while hers are still trying to master the common language. That's progress!"
"To each his or her own. I doubt our forefathers would have approved." Then he saw the other paper Aya had, the one labeled Top Secret. "Lemme guess: reports on the War?"
"You guessed it." Aya didn't hand this one over for him to look at. He never expected that she would. They were close, but he was still a civilian. "Looks like the Hives did a lot of damage, too. I assume you've seen the news about it?"
Weaver nodded. "That I did. Even out here I at least get the mobian stations."
"This is mostly classified data about the Manifest Destiny and the Dingo situation. Also some stuff about old King Acorn our boys and girls in Intel found out."
"As long as we don't get involved. Are we… getting involved?"
"Not if I have anything to say about it. We have more immediate concerns than a foreign adventure on the other side of the world." Aya brushed aside a long bang of hair that had fallen in front of her left eye. "This is probably my last report for a while. I'm going to be outside secure communications range by early tomorrow, if I'm not already."
Weaver tucked his hands into his pants pockets. "How long will you be gone?"
"A month at most, I think."
The two were silent for a few seconds.
"Do… Do you want to do something when you get back? Maybe take a quick trip somewhere warm, like the South Seas? I'm sure you've got some shore leave saved for a rainy day, right?"
"You know that'll depend on how things are when I get back. I'll need to check on the construction and the new officers…"
"They can survive for a few weeks without your tender care, Aya," he said, and slowly reached down to hold her hand. "I swear: the Fleet is your baby. No wonder you're in no mood for another one."
She squeezed his hand, reassuringly. "Everything'll be fine. I'll be back before you know it."
"You sure you don't want me to come along?" he asked, as if it had been the whole point of him driving out here.
"No men allowed, I'm afraid. Apparently these kitsune have some very specific gender roles, and they didn't want any 'threatening males' on their land."
"Just Aya Florentine, and her troupe of Amazons?"
"Ex-Act-Ly." Aya poked him in the chest, and pulled him along. "Let's get something to eat."
"Oh boy, MREs…"
Running.
He had been running.
Yes, that was right. Running. From… from someplace cold. There was snow, a blanket of white, everywhere. It was cold, but he felt hot. Every hot. And his legs hurt. He blinked. He was awake.
It was bright.
Too bright: he couldn't see.
"Don't open them. Not yet."
"t... ta...ils... ..."
No, that was a memory. A memory of his friend, of the past, of just a few months ago, when he had been alive. When they had almost been killed by Robotnick's Flying City. He closed his eyes anyway, heeding the old advice.
And he remembered.
He had been running, yes. From the resort town, where the Ice Cape Zone Games were being held. He had ran east, following ships, some sort of enemy. His legs – they hurt so much, and he felt feverish. He had his Emerald in one hand, his perfect blue Emerald, and it kept him going. It was like a cup of ambrosia, and he drank deeply from it as he ran, letting its power keep him going.
He remembered now, seeing a city in flames. No: not a city. A complex of buildings, near the lake, with other different buildings around it. Everything was on fire. It was night, but as bright as day, lighting up the night for miles. In the water there were ships, burning, some sinking. Yes: that was it.
He had been too late.
And overhead, he saw them: innumerable shapes, thousands of them, darting around in the sky, in and out of the large blimplike things. But there was one other, a different ship, that cruised along with them. It was angular, long, of a technology different from the creatures Sonic had battled. He winced, remembering the anger and sadness and pain.
He had been too late.
At the sight, his spirit had left him deflated and defeated, and in that moment, the Emerald had abandoned him as well. The power retracted back into the brilliant gemstone, and everything had gone dark. He had been too late. Too late.
Sonic groaned, and opened his eyes just a fraction. The light above him was still bright enough to hurt his eyes, but after a few harsh seconds it died down. He shifted in his bed, and threw off his white sheets, eager to see why his legs felt so numb. They were still there, thankfully, and as he flexed his toes, he confirmed that they were still in operational condition.
Still, there was a lingering pain in his calves and thighs. He saw the white linen wrapped all around and down his left leg and remembered what had happened. Poison. Of course. He reached behind him, hand slipping past his un-flexed quills, and found a bandage on his back, in a section that had been embarrassingly shaved hairless. Poison! How humiliating.
Stretching his legs, he reached down to his left arm and pulled out the intravenous feed tube that was now feeling uncomfortable. It bled just a bit there before the wound closed up. He had to find out where he was. Looking around, he saw that the room was hardly bare. There was an expensive looking wooden dresser, and several finely rafted oak chairs. The room had a fresh paintjob, and the part o the walls that connected the ceiling had a beam of wood with engraved motifs. He recognized them instantly. They were a mixture of leaves, many sporting acorns.
"Impossible…" Sonic said, softly, and rolled off the bed. "How can... how long have…?"
He pushed against the door, then caught his senses, and turned the handle. There were no automatic doors in the residential part of the Palace. Sure enough it opened, and outside were two royal guards: a squirrel and a fox, who reminded Sonic of Antoine.
"The King," Sonic said, his voice hoarse. "Take me to the King."
"Sir…" the vulpine started to argue.
"Now!" Sonic snapped, and saw the other mobian frown and nod.
"Inform Captain D'Coolette that the Package is in motion to Throne Room," The Royal Guard said to his fellow guard, and then inclined his head to Sonic. "This way, sir."
Sonic followed the guard, annoyed by the stiffness in his left leg. He wanted his shoes. He wanted his Emerald. Source Almighty, he wanted his Emerald. Where was it? What had happened? He had to know. Sally would tell him – she definitely would – and he suspected that the place to find her was around her father the King.
Walking the wide halls, Sonic confirmed that this was probably the Grand Palace, which meant that he was back in Mobotropolis. Unless this was the Summer Palace, which was the 'old' one built in Knothole, but he doubted that now. The architecture was all the same, but he could hear the distant sound of construction. It had to be Mobotropolis. Night and day, one could hear construction going on in Mobotropolis.
Finally, they entered a hallway Sonic remembered. It was the Hall of Kings that Maximilian had commissioned. When it was complete, it was supposed to have busts of all the old Kings in alcoves along the walls. He had been told that, near the end was a spot reserved for his likeness in stone, for when he became Regent-King. Sonic had mixed feelings about that, but he remembered the hallway. Now he knew where he was.
But how?
How had they gotten him back here so quickly?
They entered the Throne Room from a side door, but there was obviously something already going on. Aside from the King, seated on his Golden Throne, Sonic saw the Queen, seated to his left in a smaller throne, and Sally in a even smaller one on the King's right. The King had his usually stern look on his face, while Sally looked extremely incensed at something. In front of them were two individuals obviously giving some sort of presentation. They had music playing, too, which was odd in both its context and subject matter.
Ya face down, fucking the streets,
Cause when the 44 barks,
Sharks, Street Sharks,
Cuttin' down cops and narcs,
Shorty Dog be laughin'
Gaffin' Smackin' Clappin'
Happenin,' Shorty's Forty wants
trouble,
I'm a Dog, Bitch, make dat order
double,
We ain't gonna run from no tool,
Fool, You be sleepin' in a pool,
Of Blood, narc!
When dey smell me comin'
The street school bitches start runnin'
Tail between dey legs,
But dat ain't all,
Ha Ha!
Dat ain't all!
The record cut off with a click.
"This is but a sample of the degeneracy that plagues our streets, not only those of Casino Night, but even here in fair Mobotropolis. These so called lyrics are clearly inflammatory, in this case glorifying the murder of officers upholding His Majesty's Laws. Others in the 'record' I have here speak of homosexuality among mobians…"
The tall, lanky Minister named Comstock sneered, as if the mere word was distasteful, but continued, "Also present are references to illegal activities, such as Ginger smuggling and peddling, not to mention actual abuse of the drug. There are numerous references to prostitution and racketeering, and innumerable uses of offensive slang for certain unmentionable female body parts. And that is not the worst of it. The so-called 'song' 'I Want a Hairless Bitch' speaks of … intercourse of a type I will not justify with description. I am certain the humans have banned this record in their territory, if only because of this one unspeakable depravity. Until now, this 'Shorty Dog' has been a vulgarity, but now we have decided that his vile work can not be allowed to continue."
"The Ministry for the Prevention of Vice and Deviancy has upgraded him to our Black List, which we are now ready to present to you, Great King. All those on the list before you are as similarly reprehensible as this 'Shorty Dog,' if not as popular and well known."
Frederic Comstock was a tall ground squirrel, with a prominent moustache and a receding hairline. His associate then stepped forward and after a brief bow, began to speak. He was a rat, and looked the part. A long hairless tail twitched behind him, and his little black nose never stopped moving.
"My King, if I may speak?" The rat asked.
"You may… Mr.?" The King didn't seem concerned by the list on his armrest, and didn't give it so much as a glance with Sally reached over and took it for herself.
"Doctor Anthony Wertham, your Majesty. Ah, Minister Comstock has recently appointed me as Sub Minister of the MPVD. It is my job to screen literature for counter-ethical and anti-social elements, and to enforce the Protection Laws involving 'obscene, lewd, or lascivious' context."
"Go on." King Max prompted.
Wertham rubbed his grubby little hands together. "Ah, we have been very busy of late, as you know, my King. The printing of subversive, inappropriate, or anti-social literature has recently skyrocketed. The problem stems from independent printing enterprises, rather than established printing houses, most of which duly submit to the Royal Code of Conduct. Ah, well, the problem is really disloyal individuals with access to advanced methods of literature production… computers and the like. This was not a problem before the war, or even during it, but it is endemic now. It is the individuals producing this work that we should be targeting, if we want to truly put and end to it."
"Our Standards of Decency and Codes of Conduct must be adhered to, lest we undermine all we fought and died for," Comstock added.
"Who do you mean by we, Minister?" Sally growled from her seat, on the right hand side of the King. "I don't recall seeing your name among those who held the city of Knothole. I don't recall seeing either of you going on missions to beat back the Combot Legion."
"Princess," Comstock answered, in an obviously condescending tone. "Our job is to preserve the peace, not to win it…"
"How fortunate for you that the peace was so handily won, that you may go about RAPING IT!" Sally actually stood, and in one motion tossed the Black List in Comstock's face. It missed, hitting his chest, the papers bearing lines of names and offenses falling at his feet.
"Sarah!" King Max barked, angry.
"How DARE you!" Sally hissed, pointing at the two Ministers. "The rest was bad enough… but a Black List? Five pages of names… over two hundred mobians! First you censor them, and now you want to send them to DIE in a labor camp! For speaking their mind!"
"You are overreacting, Princess…" Doctor Wertham spoke up, one fat finger in the air. "Indecency must be…"
"And who made you the arbiter of right and wrong?" Sally snapped. "I know those who fought and died for this country, for this Kingdom… for their rights as citizens! Who gave YOU the right to…"
"Enough." King Max said, his voice commanding. Sally turned, as if to argue the point.
"Father…" she started.
"I said: Enough." Max held out his hand, and she held her breath. The fury never left her eyes, or her body, however.
"The one who gave that right to Dr. Wertham was me, when I appointed Mr. Comstock as Minister of the MPVD. As King, it is my job to appoint those who I feel advance my policies, and it is I who determines the rights of those under My Rule. The speech of my subjects shall not be allowed to include that which offends me. Like a cancer, it must be excised; cut out." King Max's brow was knitted together into a deep scowl. He saw Doctor Wertham bending over to gather the papers, and again held out his hand. "No, Doctor. This was a mess created by my daughter. She shall now accept the consequences of her rash actions. Won't you, Sarah?"
Sally's knuckles were almost white, her fists were clenched so tightly.
"Won't you, Sarah?" The King repeated. Next to him, Queen Alicia looked away, sadly, and Sally instantly knew she wouldn't get any support from her dear mother.
"Yes. Father." Sally stepped down from the Royal Dais, and the chair intended for her brother. To Sonic's speechless surprise, he saw her bend down, and start to gather the papers as Comstock's feet.
"W… wait!" Sonic rushed forward, heedless of protocol. He had been so surprised by the whole series of events; he had almost forgotten what he had originally come here for. Running up to Sally's side, he started to grab at the papers, letting her stand up and preserve some of her dignity. To his left, Sonic heard a discontented grumble from the King.
"Sonic…" Sally whispered, her voice thankful and relieved: probably not because of his help, but just because he was awake and ok. Sonic suddenly felt more than a little guilty for making her worry while he was gone. Bunching the papers together, Sonic took a quick look at them, and saw a long list of names, from top to bottom. He didn't recognize any, and none stood out, but that didn't mean they weren't real mobians. Like his friends. Like his family.
He handed them to Sally, and his hands felt dirty.
"Your Murder List, Father." Sally handed it to the seated sovereign.
With a small golden pen, the King signed his name to each of the papers. Minister Comstock quickly reached up and took them, and seemed ready to make a hasty exit, save that the King had not excused him. So he and Dr. Wertham stood still, and waited. Sally took her seat, and Sonic stood next to her.
"Now…" The King finally seemed satisfied by the arrangement. "In the future, I wish the List separated by offense. I want a different list, a separate list, of those guilty of subversive speech, rather than that which is merely morally offensive."
"My King?" Comstock asked, a little surprised by this request.
"There has been much trouble in the Southlands. Republicans and Socialists, Anarchists and Religious Fanatics. They gather in growing numbers and defy my authority. They attack my soldiers."
"No doubt endemic of the social fabric breaking down, sir!" Wertham quickly added his spiel.
King Max rested his chin on is gloved right hand. "I believe it had less to do with ethics, and more to do with politics. My enemies gather in the Southlands, and the humans and echidna arm them and incite them to acts of rebellion. They must learn that my rule there is as strong as it is in Mobotropolis. I wish the MPVD to monitor the situation for political deviance as well as the usual offenses. Use whatever means you deem necessary. Contact St. John of my Secret Service. He is in charge of criminal investigations in that area. You have one month. Show success, and I will bless you with my favor. Now go."
"Your Majesty." Comstock bowed, as did Wertham. Then the two left, a little more quickly than normal. As the large Throne Room doors closed behind them, there was a blanket of pregnant silence.
"You disappoint me, Sarah," King Maximilian said, after a few seconds. He didn't look down at his daughter. "Have you learned nothing in the time spent observing Mr. Comstock?"
"Only contempt!" Sally sent back, her tone now both angry and hurt. "Father… how could you…"
"I am growing weary of your libertarian leanings, Sarah. Very weary. I oft worry for the future of this Great Kingdom, which has survived eight hundred years." Max's tone was cold, and Sally looked away in the other direction. Sonic felt like saying something, anything in her defense, but he had no idea what.
"Max…" Queen Alicia began.
"No, Wife!" Max slammed his fist on the throne's armrest. He was about to continue, when he covered his mouth and let out a few wet coughs. Then, he took a deep calming breath. Without another word, the three Royals mutually decided to change the topic of conversation.
"Sonic," Queen Alicia said, picking a more neutral topic. "How do you feel, dear?"
"Well… Better." Sonic rubbed his left arm, his finger brushing over the spot where the IV tube had been inserted. "But what happened? How did I get here?"
"You were wounded by one of those Quaz Xialjyet soldiers. But I guess you know that." Sally reached out, and gently covered his hand with hers. "The echidna found you outside the Angel Lake battlefield, barely alive. There was some kind of poison in your system. A lot of other echidna were also suffering from it, but they have you a transfusion and some kind of anti-toxin, and when you stabilized they sent you off island and back here. They said it was a miracle that you were alive to begin with, with the wounds you had and all the venom in your body…"
"The Emerald, Sally. It kept me alive. It saved me." Sonic said with absolute certainty. "I wouldn't be alive now if not for it. Where is it Sally? Where is my Emerald?"
Sally balked at the question. She looked back at her parents, and then faced him again.
"It… its gone, Sonic."
Sonic's pupils shrunk, and he pulled away from her. "No!"
"I'm sorry…" she offered.
"NO!" Sonic shook his head. "NO! I have to go back!"
"Sonic," Queen Alicia said, carefully. "That was a week ago, I'm afraid."
"A week?" Sonic shook his head, harder now. "Who… who took it! WHO TOOK IT?"
"Sonic!" Sally cried, and reached for him, but he kept backing away.
"I need it, Sal. I need it!" He clenched and unclenched his hands, almost imagining it safely nestled in his palms, his fingers wrapped protectively around it. He gulped, and started to laugh, little shallow sounds without mirth. "I need it… I need it…"
"What's wrong with you, boy?" King Max finally spoke. "You're acting like some Ginger Monkey without his fix! It is unbecoming."
"You don't understand…" Sonic said, and trailed off. "You can't."
"If you want another Chaos Emerald, then go out and get one. This Court has had enough hysterics in it as it is." King Max motioned for them to leave. "Return to your bed, boy. You obviously need to rest."
"I…"
"Come on, Sonic," Sally said, and suddenly she was at his side. Sonic stiffened a bit as she wound her arm around his, but then relaxed. He calmed, and felt better for her proximity. Rubbing his temples, willing away the confusion and panic, Sonic's rumbling stomach broke the tense atmosphere of the Throne Room.
"We'll have the chef make your favorite. Come on," Sally urged him on, and the two left the room by one of the side doors. Sonic quickly regretted his behavior just a minute ago. How could he get so hysterical over an Emerald? He'd collected and used them many times before, and he'd never become attached to any of them, even after they had saved his life. He thought about it rationally and decided that there was no reason to feel that way, but the empty hole in his heart cried for it: his shiny, perfect blue Emerald.
"Sonic, are you feeling alright? Maybe we should…"
"No, I'm fine. Just a bit… confused, I guess. That place that was attacked. Last week? Was it really last week?" He asked, amazed.
"It was, Sonic." Sally looked at him with those deep, rich eyes of hers. Sonic could feel her concern for him. It felt… good. "You've been here four days, and you were in Echidnapolis for three."
"What happened there? Who was it?" Sonic narrowed his eyes, remembering the lives lost in front of his eyes. "Who killed those mobians?"
"A group calling itself the Quaz Xialjyet. They released a statement to the other continental powers, stating their intentions to 'reclaim' Angel Island."
"They were… Charmy's kind, weren't they?"
Sally nodded. "Charmy is one of their leaders."
Sonic didn't reply at first. Instead, he just stared forward as they walked, a hard look in his eyes. He seemed to be deep in thought, and Sally didn't bother him. They walked down a hall and rounded a corner. Leaning slightly against her, Sally saw Sonic reach down with his other hand and feel the bandages around his left leg.
"He did this to me…" Sonic said, quietly, barely a whisper. "He knew I was there, and he sent those things down anyway. He killed those echidna, and he tried to kill me, too."
Then, something else occurred to the blue hedgehog.
"Wait. Wait. What about Red?" Sonic asked, suddenly. "Is Knuckles…?"
"We don't know," Sally admitted. "Not even the Chaotix know. He just disappeared."
Lara-Su had no idea what to do.
She sat at the counter, nursing her Argylean Tea (extra sugar), and counting out the meager funds she had left. It was enough to last another week, if she stretched it out, thanks mostly to the difference in inflation between her time and this one. Still, that didn't bode well. Previously, she had only spent a day or so in the past; just long enough to play whatever role the cosmic fates deemed necessary.
Now…
Now she felt left out of the loop. She'd arrived in a nice secluded spot, clothes and equipment present and accounted for, but by the end of the first day, she'd quickly realized that her 'quest' here had not been made very obvious. The Wise Man had sent her back so that she could fulfill her lifelong ambition of 'saving' her father, but how she was supposed to do that wasn't very clear.
The tea was hot and sweet, a constant between this time and the one she had grown up in. Soon after realizing her dilemma, that first day, she had hastily purchased some room and board. The attack on Angel Lake had been all over the news, which meant that she had arrived just as the war started. That was good. It meant she had plenty of time to do what she came here for.
At least in theory, anyway. In practice, she hadn't had much luck. Her father, the Guardian, was reclusive enough as it was, but now no one had seen him or any of the other ex-Guardians who supposedly showed up in times of crisis. There was talk of the Guardians 'abandoning' the Island. This wasn't how she had been taught things turned out.
She had spent the next few days searching and came up empty-handed. When she ran out of money, then what would she do? It wasn't like she had that much knowledge of the future that she could invest in something and become rich overnight. More than likely, she'd have to get a job. Except… she had to valid identification, references or records. She hadn't even been born yet!
"I could claim I was from Albion… or Echidnograd… or hasn't that city been founded yet? I should've brought a history textbook with me." Lara-Su took another sip of her tea, and sighed. "What am I going to do?"
Someone sat next to her, and she gave him a quick look. He wasn't echidna – that much was instantly obvious – rather, he was a mobian. A vulpine. Medium build, dark orange fur, bright blue eyes. He smiled at her, and she felt something constrict around her heart.
"Hey there," he said, in a smooth voice.
She blushed, and stammered for a response. There was something about him.. something powerful and enticing. She had never thought of herself as flighty or anything like that, but the more she looked into his eyes, she more she saw something special. It captured her. He almost glowed… golden… She shook her head, and smiled back. It was then that she noticed the three bangs that came down over his face, partially obscuring his right eye.
Behind him, she saw… one tail.
He leaned in closer.
"I only let the other one show for special occasions," he whispered. Lara gasped.
"Are you…?"
"The one and only. Let's find someplace private to talk, hmm?" He quickly paid for her drink, and took her hand. His touch was electric, and something else she couldn't place. No: it was a little colder than she had expected, even with his gloves on. She didn't think much about it, as he led her out of the coffee house, and down the street.
Lights, people, everything just blurred by, and Lara found it harder to think clearly. She heard music, getting louder and louder – some sort of night club. A part of her, once totally in control, wondered what was going on. The rest, now the largest part of her, just went with it, and rode the wave of heat that was suffusing her entire body. She distantly saw a large mobian and a line, but a few words from her companion and the burly crocodile bouncer stepped aside compliantly.
There were lights everywhere, and a drowning ocean of sound, loud and oppressive. The ground seemed to shake with the beat, and Lara felt a press of bodies all around her. Still, the grip on her hand was strong – so strong, and as she tried to focus her eyes, she could see the glow from her companion growing brighter and hotter. She watched, numbly, as they came to a door, chained shut.
Her companion tore the chains away with one hand.
"What's…" she finally managed to try and ask. "Mmf!"
Instantly, her back was to the wall, and she felt his lips on her own. It felt good at first, very good. Like a drug. Then it became more forceful, and Lara realized that his lips were not as warm as hey should have been. Something was wrong, but her mind wasn't working right, and she couldn't tell, couldn't grasp at the obvious. His hand slipped under her shirt, and it was colder than before – it slipped past her breasts, pausing at them for only a moment, before the fingers reached the Guardian's crest below her neckline. He pulled her shirt down, and stared at the white crest with a hungry look.
"Poor… stupid… little Guardian…" The fox's face looked up at her, bright blue eyes sparkling. High above, a crescent moon shone down into the dark alley. "Why are you here?"
"I… I don't…" she struggled a little, all in vain. He held her pinned to the wall, and ducked his head down to her neck. She felt little bites, and sharp teeth.
"Don't fight me. You will tell me what you know, or you will scream it…" her captor spoke calmly, and Lara felt that power grip her heart again. For just a second, it stopped.
"Now," he asked again. "Why are you here…?"
"Oh!" Lara felt his hands move, they were cold and hard now, but still electric. Her mind buzzed like a colony of insects. "He sent me… The Wise Man…"
"Wise Man. Who is he? What is he?"
"I thought… you were… a fox, a kitsune…two tails…"
"Milessss," the fox hissed. "Why are you here? For what purpose?"
"My father," Lara moaned. "My father! I came to save him…"
The vulpine before her shook his head slowly. "Foolish girl. Your father belongs to the Master, now. No one can save him. No one can save you."
"Who… are you…?" Lara began to see, finally, through the illusion.
"I am Mulciber, God of Rogues, Lord of Masks… Once, despite my best efforts, I was one of you paltry mortal beasts of weak flesh and blood. My enemies thought me trapped, but the Master freed my body and my mind... Now, I am a GOD – free to indulge myself and my deserved desires…" Again the fox smiled, but now his perfect teeth were a mad assortment of yellowed spikes. Lara tried to scream, but her voice caught in her throat. Before her eyes, the bright blue eyes turned yellow-gold and began to glow like the fires of Hell.
"By the time I hand you over to the Master, you will be little more than a gibbering mass of broken meat. He will Devour all you are, but I will have the first taste…" A long serpentine tongue flicked out of the creature's mouth, and ran along Lara's lower jaw. She closed her right eye as it worked its way over her cheek and up to her temple. A millisecond later, Lara winced as a spray of blood, green and red, covered her face.
The grip on her disappeared, and she fell back, sliding numbly down the wall. For a second, she wondered if she was dead… then she saw movement on the ground next to her. It was the long forked tongue, cleanly cut off, and flopping on the ground like a fish out of water. Another form stepped out of the shadows, a fox like the other one, but with two tails, and a single midnight blue eye, bright and fierce like a fallen star.
"It is not a taste of her you shall find here, Lord of Masks." The newcomer's voice was tenor, and belied strength beyond the physical. "Here… you shall know only my wrath, and this place will be your grave. "
"You little bastard… Do you think that because you defeated that old robot and that weak clone you're a match for me?" Mulciber snarled, blood trickling down his lower jaw. From his back, an unearthly golden glow sent currents of energy down a black sinewy body, as terrible tentacles and onyx spikes grew out from every angle.
"I'll bring you to the Master…" The monster called Mulciber flexed its new and terrible appendages. "In a hundred bloody pieces!"
Lara could only watch, stunned, as the two closed and the battle was joined.
