Yea!!! Finally I'm back, and with a new chapter...and two more on the way. Can't say for certain when I'll get them posted, but it's all down to me now to get them corrected. Been very busy with different projects and working on the road. Partly writing out my first lemon I here people call them, and getting that type of writing seasoned for a special purpose, however won't becoming in this book, or possibly a few more until later. From then on, it's just tongue and cheek mentioning--like I did with Lar-Na and Stenson's victory ritual--unless I find a sweet spot I may be able to place said, or hinted, subject matter in. Check out, "The Space Between," for a short, warming love story.
Sara...sorry for the long reply. No, I'm not looking for any of that...I just want to give you a few links to some other work that a fellow fan did. I really don't like advertising other peoples websites on here, soI've tied my own hands in effect. Now, if said fan reviews and posts the link in the review..hint...hint...you might find something interesting.
Until then: we begin with a little comedy, and possibly understanding for some of us. Here, this chapter is beginning the damino effect that I have painfully built to start tumbling...which means we are on the final path to seeing this done. It's still lengthy, but I can honestly say I can count the chapters of how far I have yet to go...and I still have fingers left over. But I need to get cracking on them, and soon. I hate having people to wait on me.
Disclaimer: I own nothing of Sonic and the rest of his friends.
Enjoy, and thank-you for being my audience.
Kindling a Flashpoint
By: Mauser
The door swung open and out of the gathered Chaotix in front of the T.V. and game console, Julie-Su was the only pair of eyes to see Espio stomp in, his detrimental mood rigid in his stride. "What's up?" she asked, watching Vector and Mighty try to out do themselves from behind the couch. Knuckles was ever present on her mind.
"Nothing you can handle, Su! Just don't bother," Espio said, fixing his eyes towards the rear set of rooms and making his way to his.
"Are we standing-to?" Julie-Su asked next, doing her best to match the chameleon's range in voice.
A snort blew from his lips. "You're not; I am!"
Vector glanced back behind him. "Hey, then why the screwed up face! An't like you 'ta get all worked up about somtin you love!"
Espio stopped cold and reared around with a cringing fist. "You would too, Vec, if they stuck you with Shadow!"
"They're doing what!?" shrilled Julie-Su.
Rolling his eyes was the best Espio could do. "Yea! That skunk they call a commander wants me to go on a hike with Shadow about some message getting lost in the woods." –he brought his head around to Mighty along with a change of subject– "Hey, Mighty, are my stars and throwing knives still tucked away where they should be?"
"Bottom drawer, by the bed," the armadillo replied, never straying his attention from the Tetrus puzzle.
"What else?" Juilie-Su asked tartly, never skipping a beat.
"What else, what?" Espio replied.
"Knuckles for one! And what you're going to do once you find the message?"
Espee's head sulked to the floor, but his surly attitude was still riding high. "No word from Knux still. Geoffrey wants me to find the cipher for this code, and maybe we can break this thing a lot quicker." He then wandered his head to Julie-Su's burning eyes. "Knuckles is on his mind, too, Julie. I have this hunch that if he can break the encryption, we can find out what has happened–if anything at all–to Knuckles and we can hurry to the rescue."
"Then how come we're not going with you.? And why of all people, Shadow?"
Espio shrugged his shoulders broadly. "You got me!" And with that, he turned sharply on his heels and walked to his room. Once he entered, again flying the door open, he set to finding his weapons in the bedside dresser; grabbing his triple set of throwing knives in a webbed case that he wrapped around his left forearm just at the wrist, and slipping the same number of throwing stars between the case and his skin. Now he just had to stow away his bitter mood and everything would be set.
"Yea, right!"
Striding back into the living room of their temporary home in Knothole City, no thanks to the Dingoes and Eggman, Espio gave a side-glance once more to his friends, noticing Ray was among them and he too watching impatiently as Vector was getting his rear handed to him by Mighty. He finally felt Julie-Su's question hit him. He now wanted Angel Island's powerhouse with him on this run. Knuckles now presumed missing, a bad set of signal waves floating around, and going on a mission with a hedgehog who can change sides with a change of the wind; Espio for once didn't like the odds. And he thrived for bad odds and savored to face them alone.
After all, he's Ninja!
"Hey, where's Julie-Su?" he asked, finding a certain pink color wasn't in the mix of fur and skin when his situational awareness came to him.
"She's off to scream at Sally and St. John," Mighty answered, still diligently working the controls. "Sure hate to be them," –he broke his stare and looked to his losing opponent– "or Vector!"
"Yadda, yadda, yadda...you're gonna lose now, punk!"
Espio wavered his head slightly and held a deadpan face. "Vec, you're already getting owned."
"I 'an't down for the count yet, Espee," Vector sniped across his shoulder.
"Yea, but the clock is ticking away." Huffing a breath of hot air, he marched to the wooden door that led outside, turned the handle and stopped before swinging it open. "C'ya in a flash!"
"We'll be here!" Charmy answered under a heartfelt smile from the far end of the couch. It was his way, and the rest of the Chaotix way as well, of saying, "get back here in one piece."
And when Espio left through the door and closed it, an uneasy silence broke out under the electronic whoops of the game from the living room. A moment or two passed with the unspoken message being tossed around by doleful gazes, the four Angel Islanders wanting in the fight to kill bots and not time, before Ray broke the air of tension.
"Hey, is it my turn yet?"
It wasn't Shadow's idea of transportation, but with another scour around King Frederick's Airbase, his eyes told him there wasn't anything else the Freedom Fighters were going to let him use. The ring shape of what the Overlander's had used time and time again as their own mode of travel, and then battlement against the Mobians during the Great War, the Boogie still had it's unabashed qualities: small enough to pass by an untrained eye though the sky, fast enough to scoot almost anywhere over Mobius Prime in a few hours or less, and had its space to stow enough gear for a short mission–such as the one he was tapped to do. But in all honesty, like the chameleon he was teamed with, Shadow would love nothing more than to scurry to the Badlands under his own legs and enhanced shoes.
With that a given, he reached down to the huddled series of satchel charges, four in all and all cheekily issued by St. John himself, Shadow, without a care to safety of the explosive contents, chucked the olive green sacks one by one inside the large disk of aluminum. The coming late afternoon sunlight from the open canopy, cutout for the launch ramp which led to the heavens, came in like an overtone of saffron vegetation in its own right, covering the outer rim of leaves which now resembled a power-ring, and engrossed the runway and a good portion of the open tie-down slots which only had a few gathered planes. From what Shadow reflected of what St. John had said about them, and what Eggman had learned, was Knothole didn't have the pilots the monarch wanted and needed to fly the machines. And from the looks of their scion linage, the abundance of stagger-wings, and the few lot of mono-wings that flanked the others at the rear, those good trained pilots wouldn't stand a fleeting chance against Eggman's A.I. piloted bots. The glimmering boogie had a much stronger wager to survive than what the House of Acorn had to pass for combative aviation.
It made him even question if the chance they were offering him was a calculation in their favor if he'd stay on, or if he, like that of recent, go his own way. For once the notion to "cheat" someone or something out of anything resembling value to Shadow, actually felt bawd in the sense that what Sonic and Nicole had done for him to unlock Gerald's Diary, and to know now what they were asking, didn't come with a certain "just" he could rank as repayment. He felt he was cheating them on the idea that he was being let loose for his own vengeance and his own prize.
And these feelings weren't generally his style.
Snorting the preoccupation of philosophy aside from his mind, the black hedgehog lumbered his vision once more around him in the hope Espio would appear. That was something, or actually someone, he wasn't looking forward to teaming up with–and he knew the chameleon felt likewise–but like the boogie, Espio possibly had redeeming qualities that could either be helpful...or a pain in the tail. Nevertheless, the stockily built, purple lizard he was looking for wasn't to be found.
However, staring at him with a shaking, snobby smile, and standing ten meters away from him close to the control tower, Rogue's wrapped, almost skin tight suited figure exhibited a jagged but refined pose with her hands planted on her hips, looking in his direction that had an entangled expression of "what's up," and, "why the dumb attitude?" Shadow turned his head away in dismissal with which his body followed suit, and he glowered at the open canopy again. Loneliness was his sanctuary, his reprieve from the world and; becoming one with it. It was the way of the Ultimate Life Form.
"Just put the cold shoulder on me without saying 'hi,' eh?" came the coy, mocking voice from behind him.
Rogue had this swagger that announced the woman in her. Her hips would titter like a boat in a moderate surf, whilst the rest of her perfect form remained without the slightest movement. Perhaps it had to do with her boots, pushing her heels high although they weren't like the columns a pair of staletto shoes had. Shadow could see this without looking. Her chattering footsteps were enough to make him squint his eyes shut, wishing she'd just disappear.
"Go away!" he remarked under a dead monotone.
"Wow, some pick-up line," she said pungently, stopping short of his back.
A reply evaded him, so he instead crossed his arms. If she was looking for conversation, she wasn't going to get it from him, and that suited him just fine. After all, she too had her motives, and Shadow was all the wiser not to play along with her tricks. Self-experience went a long way.
But in the back of Rogues' mind–well the front of it now–Shadow's broody attitude was nothing more than a target to help ease the boredom of the day. Pulling Julie-Su's tail wasn't all that fun without Knuckles around. And while on the thought, Aleutian's absences was becoming hard to bear on the notion that she wanted to pick his brain and dive deep into him if he'd open up. "If!"
"Oh, com'on. You can't leave a girl 'hangin?"
"Just watch me," Shadow snorted, still keeping his head straight.
He was now going to wish he never made that comment. For all Rogue saw in him now was a body and brain to have free reign with for her amusement.
"Oh, I can watch...I can watch all day." The white bat stepped up closer behind him, putting her eyes to work, though he couldn't see them. "Nothing impresses me more than to see how tough someone is–"
"That's a lie!" Shadow snuffed in the back of his head.
"–and you are doing a cool job at it. So, tell me, spiny," –Shadow lost his vacant stare and popped his head to the side with an expression of surprise and offense–"does a girl always have to work this hard to get your attention?"
He seemed to shudder as he threw his head back around. "Just go away!" he pronounced slowly this time. Quite agitated.
Rogue stepped around him, her eyes canted with her head, purposely brushing her right ear gingerly across his arm and snaking in front of him. Her smile was the punch of her whole carefully, dogged maneuver. "Aw, you can't get away from me that easy."
"How fast can you run?"
Espio stepped lightly through the maze of trees that made up the majority of Knothole as he ventured toward the Airbase. In actuality, he wasn't looking to sneak up on Shadow. Far from it! The purple chameleon was building himself up to his silent workings. His ghostly persona. Gone were his ghastly thoughts of the black hedgehog, and thus, so were his ideas of what St. John can do to himself without Hershey's help. No, like Knuckles, he was peering into his warrior persona and searching for the right ingredients that would be right for this upcoming mission.
He already felt the tingling flange of his skin and blood mixing, leaving nothing more than his cool head to shift his appearance to the backdrop's contour and color; disappearing from sight.
When he rounded a large walnut tree that stood as a sentry to the beginnings of the airbase, Espio willed his ears to hear more of himself than the chirping birds and rustling leaves around him. Crossing from forest to the clearing boundary, he felt he was still making too much noise to achieve the silence he was wanting. Four hundred meters further with a turn to the west from the control tower, Espio held true to his steady pace, but finding his reward coming like the mere wind he felt waft over him. If caution was needed from here on out, all he had to do was walk slowly. Stalking more like it. And no one or nothing would hear him coming to take their life...
That's unless something so humourous as what his eyes beheld past his horn happened to pop into sight with Rogue egging on Shadow for a simple pleasure. Espio's last footfall was an audible stamp, breaking his silence with only himself to hear, and a snickering smile forming on his lips, producing a muffled snort in the same instant. Standing his ground and holding his laughter in tight, he almost succumbed to his lungs wanting to expel their air-sacks and fall to the tarmac.
"If only Julie-Su was here to see this!"
Lifting his head and diminishing his smile, he drew a long breath and continued on. "All set?" he asked gruffly. Shadow spun his head around almost instinctively and Espio saw he was rather happy to see him. "Wonder why?" thought Espio laughingly.
"Anytime!" replied the hedgehog with crossed arms.
Rogue however seemed to ignore his barriers. "Oh, don't get your quills in a knot," she said, raising a right brow more out of taunting than fluster.
Espio was right in line with a titter. "That's the best pun I've heard all day."
"Go ahead," Shadow groaned, "just keep her at, eh!"
"Get a grip, man–she's just pulling your chains. You don't have to listen."
"It's kind a hard when she's right THERE!" grunted Shadow.
Letting Shadow have the win, even though Espio got what he wanted out of it, he let his eyes fall inside the boogie just as Rogue was about to say something else. He had to will himself not to blanch when he saw the satchel charges piled inside carelessly. "Go ahead; blow yourself up!"
"Give me a break!" Shadow spat back, removing his arms and throwing a challenging face to Espio.
The chameleon matched it. "Heck no! With me out here and my butt on the line, you're going to do what I say!"
Espio was about to find out about his mistake.
"In your dreams! It's my little way of saying thanks for their help and no way I'm gonna have some tag-along to give me orders."
"And I'd like to come home in one piece!"
"Then stay the heck out of my way, lizard breath! Or you might just come home with the mentality of a two year-old, as if you don't have one yet!"
Rogue had been an afterthought between the two, but no longer as she wedged herself between them, her shoulders becoming the wall that separated them. When she felt their eyes resting on her trim figure, she swivelled her head to their boiling faces. "Can we have a little understanding, here?"
"NO!" they both said in unison, then snapped their faces back toward other.
"Fine then...I'm going with so you two don't blow yourselves up before you get there!"
Chameleon and hedgehog alike screamed with their eyes and not their mouths, though they were posed to do so. The ten seconds of silence that followed was enough to make the white furred bat smile as she viewed this quick moment in hesitation from the two out of the corner of her eyes. She kept her head straight at the boogie, then decided to put action to her spontaneous words. She had too. She couldn't believe that she, herself, had said what she had said! It was only when she climbed in over the side that she knew she was committed. Why on Mobius did she even have to say such a thing. "Oh, come on girl, it will be fun."
Her spark of optimism slid across her face as a set smile. Her anchor showing that she was not moving an inch was exhibited by her arms crossed tightly across her chest.
"Well, we set or what, boys?"
Julie-Su's hunting expidition for a certain princess took her from Freedom HQ, to the castle with only Elias saying he didn't know where his sister was, and then finally after a lead from Rotor after passing him on her walkabout, she found the auburn haired ground squirrel in, of all places, Uncle Chuck's Dinner. The opening of the door sent the fragrance of chilli-dogs, french fries, and a few other enticing foods up her nostrils. Her stomach just had to knock at her appetite, but her heartstrings pulled her back and refocused her to her main mission in life.
"What are you doing eating and not going out to find Knuckles?" she hissed, slamming her hands down on the booth table that surprised both Sally, and Bunnie almost at mid bite of a burger. The pink echidna took note of the instant damage and reigned in the overbearing soldier inside of her while and mustering a gentler expression. She was still on fire, however, but she chose her words a lot differently. "Why haven't you called up the Chaotix instead of sending Espio out on something totally different from finding Knux?"
Sally laid her meal down on her tray, glanced at Bunnie, who had her head and ears low in understanding and sympathy with Julie-Su. Then the Princess of Acron shifted further inside the booth and let her eyes become her hands to motion the troubled echidna inside. "Come sit, Su."
And that she did, plopping down and taking great care she didn't do so on her tail. "I'm sorry Sally, I didn't mean to get fired up at you."
"'Shug," offered Bunnie, "Ah'm feeling the same tension as you, dear, and I want to do nothing more than to get my 'Toine' back in my arms."
"But it could be a mass trap for all of us, Julie," Sally added, talking above the bustling diner's patrons. "Espio and Shadow are St. John's idea, and quite honestly, he has a good operation planned that should help us in finding our boys." She pressed her smiling, comforting face close to Julie-Su. "And we need you and the Choatix close by in case Eggman has something up his sleeve that could very well devastate us here. He knows where this place is, and we can't risk this city and all its citizens to be left wide-open just because we're chasing a trap of our own. I hate it as much as you do, Su." Leaning forward, she placed a gentle hand on the echidna's shoulder. "Just have faith in him. You always have. He's come through for us since the first war...he can do it again, and again!"
And with her own words licking at her ears, she felt a pinch in her heart when Sonic's brandishing smile filled her mind. Between the three girls at the table she was the one holding her feelings back the most. She knew her job and knew it very well: keep the living, living and counting on Sonic to return. Her heart pounded for him to keep true to that goal. Her yearning for him wasn't as strong as the years before when they were in love, but his absence due to unforeseeable things, as always in war, was becoming the exercise for her love to grow for him. She, however, was trying to hide it; to deny it. Saying he would still be the same as before.
She had to let it go, fearing her emotions would spring to her cheek muscles and betray her.
"I'm done," she confessed, pushing her tray away before realizing Chuck's diner required her to dispose with what she couldn't finish. "Lets take in the sun for a walk, you all in?" she asked, looking to Bunnie then to Julie-Su for approval.
"Lets go," the half cyborg rabbit said graciously. Julie only nodded and stepped out of the booth.
The short delay before feeling the hot rays hot glide across her fur couldn't have come sooner. Julie took charge once out the door, but stopped and turned to Sally. "Is there a way we can't make this happen again?"
Sally smiled, more to the fact that Julie had reaffirmed her faith that Knuckles will succeed and will come back to her. She let her voice show her gratitude; it was just deserved. "We have to take that up with General Amadeus. Elias has him going full throttle with his ideas and I can honestly say I do agree with him that we can't spread ourselves thin. 'Carelessness,' as he put it, 'aren't sound battle plans.' And this is coming from a fox who lost his eye in a battle." And the first one Julian Kintobor lead when her father put his trust in the Overlander. A notion came to her on the tail of that thought: what did Amadeus feel after losing his eye, then being betrayed by the same man? "Sliced by a double edged sword."
"Where are they anyways. Tails and his father, 'Ah mean," Bunnie inquired.
"Looking for something for Elias," Sally replied, then shifted her commanding eyes to Julie-Su. "And it involves your sweatheart's brother."
"Aleutian?" Julie-Su pressed but really didn't need to. "Why?"
"Elias wants to find out where he got those scars. Aleutian showed him where to go, but that was with his father twisting his arm due to it involving other Mobains." Sighing Sally raised a brow with a hint of a chuckle. "If you ask me, if those scars have been earned the hard way, I won't be surprised if Elias knights him."
"Not just being a friend?" Bunnie said questionably.
"I doubt it with him. He has my dad to impress and he is trying–in my eyes–way to hard."
Looking at the ground, Julie-Su raised her head up after considering her words, and hopefully divulging her thoughts to curb Sally's. "And what Dr. Quack pulled out of his back isn't enough? He was crying Sally, and I know that family has to have a gosh-darn reason to cry. I've seen my Knuckles take hits that would leave me in tears, but he just got up and went back on fighting."
A long thought, and Sally finally answered with a shallow nod. "It depends on what Tails and General Prower have to report when they get back. Until then, I still have my suspicions." Shaking her head inwardly, she glanced to Julie-Su then to Bunnie. " Look, if you need your minds off of this, why don't you two head back down to the Airbase, or get yourselves loosened up somehow so when we get some confirming intelligence we can go and get our people back–that includes Amadeus and Tails if this is bigger than what we have seen. Can you two cope with that?"
Bunnie pipped up generously. "Sally-girl, 'Ah'm fine just hanging out with you."
"I think I'll take your offer, again" the former Legionnaire said frowning. "What do you need to be done besides double checking the ships?"
Again, Sally smiled. "The same, plus check the onboard weapons, make certain they can function when we need them to. I'll send Rotor out. He knows what is needed and where it goes, and he has a good ear that listens."
"Works."
"Start with the Mark II and then one of the larger transports. Make us ready for anything."
A smug nod. "You got it, Princess."
"Terrific–"
A hum that was growing loader in volume diverted the three girls' attention to the western sky. In the opening that Chuck thought was, and is, a good spot to set-up shop in Knothole City, their eyes chased the half-moon saucer rising and shooting towards the west, disappearing quickly as a fading dot in the lush clouds. Even when the sound had disappeared they still looked on, their imaginations taking them on the ride.
"Come back soon Espio," Julie-Su summoned from her heart.
With a lasting smile, and commendable expression, Sally laid her hand on Julie's shoulder. "That's what we need. That's what brings them back."
"Back off the screws to six hundred revolutions."
Amidst the cling and chatter of the telegraphs being operated to the engine room, with a lone red light that seemed to turn the bridge into a single candle lit room, and the wooded, creaking sound of the helmsman putting effort to keep the Hawking steady, Stenson's voice, stance and tall posture were a far cry from what the crew felt. Tension. And Trent knew well it was the Legion that presided over them, not a boisterous, or blustering individual who was looking for fame and glory with victory. Only mission, purpose and principle.
And considering how close they were, it was a wonder that his voice hadn't flinched above a commanding whisper. That had to be it though. The agitation wasn't there in his pose but his face had it plastered into a perfect frown. They were closer than he wanted them to be. His original blessing of the fog to give them cover was now a vast detriment to their sensors and range finders. Satellite wise, their position was dead on. It was just too close for comfort for their weapons to have any effect.
And thinking of which: "Fire Control?" the Captain, but still Field Marshal, inquired, still reposed.
Trent reached behind to the back wall for the radio, snatched it and pressed the talk button on the microphone. "Ell-Tee, status?"
"Range-finders are barley bouncing back. We could wing it and walk the shots up, but it's up to you."
Stenson mused for more than a moment. Ell-Tee's suggestion was an idea, however not sound for accuracy. Walking to the map panel at the right side of the bridge and close to the helm, he took a quick figure of the distance and made a fast judgement call. "Steer left to bearing zero-one-five."
And that was all that could be done. Last thing he needed was the ship to get picked up and not the enemy. His previous corse was meant to drive further in so as to at least descry a radar signature. But the rain had lifted and in came the fog, creating ghost echoes that could have him chasing such phantoms to the ends of Mobius.
The radio crackled abruptly when Ell-Tee's voice came shouting in the bridge. "Lights, starboard side!"
Never thinking to move, Stenson was well on his way to the right side overhang from the bridge with his pair of binoculars up and set for the green color of night vision. The fog, again, was no help, creating a large screen of static as the device desperately fought to pick up any notion of light. Stenson's scan was a broad sweep from left to right. There was no way his binoculars could miss even the smallest candle burning brightly in the night. Even in this fog.
And he was correct, his triumph coming as a blood thirsty smile.
"Petty Officer, slow us to three knots and hold her steady." Racing back inside, he again looked at the nineteen inch screen of the G.P.S. and did a more accurate measurement to the coast, making sure to add heading and their current position to the mix of mathematics roving in his head.
"Engine room reports desired speed, Captain."
"Very well, Petty Officer. Get Ell-Tee back on the line."
Trent did his duty and a short second passed until Ell-Tee's calm voice emerged from the speaker. "Our readings are sporadic, sir."
Stenson smiled. Ell-Tee was way ahead of the curve. "Set-up for three kilometers." "At least we know where to shoot at," Stenson didn't add verbally.
As soon as the order was repeated through the mike, via Trent, Stenson peered out from the bridge and took up a observation post back on the overhang. He watched as the barrels of the proton cannons traversed and pointed over the side of the ship. It was almost a textbook broadside if Stenson could find that particular textbook. However, the challenge was going to be the range. And given that they were still blind–and he knew this way ahead of his decision to go North–their shots were going to be walked up and in the same instance, pray that they would hit something of logistical value.
"Fire control reports weapons are ready."
Hearing Trent's report commanded his head to linger back into the bridge. "Tell Ell-Tee to fire four shots, two from each gun and wait for impacts." But did he honestly need to give that order? He was well aware of Ell-Tee's knowledge of throwing plasma out onto the enemy. For years Ell-Tee trained some of the most formidable Legionnaires to shoot and shoot well enough to give the Dingos a rough start to the war. For that matter, the Echidna Security Team before the war; during their war. And so being, for Stenson, his order was far from the mark of knowledge but mostly just him feeling skiddish. He now wished he'd listened to Lar-Na's fears, feeling his own starting to worm it's way into his stomach.
"But I'm not going back on my word to Rob-O."
Letting his hands fall to his chest, still gripping the binoculars, he let the roving, thick air wrap his senses, wanting to ease his mind just for a brief stay in tranquility and then quite possibly return to the here-and-now with a more defined head of courage. "Fear," he mused quietly, even in his mind, " is what makes decisions less rash and galvanized. Turning tides of war for the smell of victory when the commander needs to breathe in the stench of what he really feels. What makes him whole and like the rest. Fear."
Sounds of the churning sea was like music. The sway of the boat like a timid dancer, only nodding to the slow rhythm as the Hawking slid through the water on it's slow course. The gentle rock in the silent night, save for the sound of the engine room, instilling a marching beat in Stenson's psyche as he stared long and hard at the sticky fog. His lips began to move as if in a whisper, no sound following. Even the air he was exhaling was droned out by the passing sea.
"We fight for might...we kill for right...and victory as our destiny. We praise Dimitri...we pass with dignity...and the Guardians shall know our mercy. Of that we lack...we take back our land...and our passed restored with all to flourish."
The last pounding of the marching drum in his head landed with the beat of his heart and sparked his voice to growl deeply.
"Commence firing!"
Three seconds passed before the order was put in to effect. The right side of Stenson's face lite up when Ell-Tee's cannon at the stern was touched off, lacing the Field Marshal's facial textures in a brilliancy of crimson red. The thunder that was trailed by the proton charge from the capacitors and diods was ear-splitting. The heat felt as if it would sunburn the exposed skin on his muzzle. And Stenson loved it, smiling as his emerald eyes followed the lone bolt into the hazy black of the night, disappearing as the first kilometer and a half was cleared with ease. All this was repeated in rapid succession once the bow cannon announced its bark of energy through the calm night, showing the rest of Stenson's face this time on the left. Belches of fire leaped from both cannons when they're next volley jumped eastward. And again, Stenson watched the bolts diminish in color and contrast over the gritty, black ink void. Thus, he turned his binoculars up to his eyes, lowered the brightness, and continued to watch the glimmering pure white orbs flash over the green display. He watched them fall, gravity pulling down the abundance of charged ions, neutrons and protons that actually had weight in their tight collectiveness. What most Mobians didn't know about plasma and proton bolts–unless they followed the ever changing evolution in weaponry or engineered them from the get-go–is that their power, drive, and energetic forces were nothing more than an exercise in particle fission that heats its target on impact as the force and chain-reaction of the atoms coming apart, and in effect, using kinetic energy to shatter and rip apart the enemy's toys.
Those reactions with the desired subsequent explosions never came. Of the small flicker of light that was Stenson's target beacon, the glowing orbs from the first salvo of shots burned out, his conclusion coming fast of the miss and knowing of the steam they just produced. Grumbling under bared teeth, a snap of his head brought his attention to the inside of the bridge, letting his hands keep his binoculars insatiable in position in the air:
"Increase range up to two-hundred meters and fire a three round volley with a hundred and fifty meter 'walk-up!'"
"Aye, sir!" Trent curtly shouted before repeating the order to Ell-Tee and the bow gun crew. Time was now of the essence. Depending on how close the first series of rounds fell, they were either still safe in the cloak of the fog, or the Hawking was about to receive a warm reception as a result of Stenson's crude calculations. All this was in Trent's mind as he speed through the orders.
Again, the seconds felt as if they were crawling by. The hydriodic pumps were deafening to Stenson's ears, the corner of his eyes descrying the slight raise of the barrels as the fluid pushed them further skyward. The backwash of ozone from the first volley slithered into his nose and bit at his tongue. And yet, he still kept his head and binoculars trained on the lone flicker of light.
When the cannons touched off, his pupils burned when the night vision settings were overcome with whiteout. He forced his head back on reaction, squinting hard to force his eyes to take hold of his own darkness, and let the flashes in his eyes dissipate. Willing his eyelids to open, just at the moment the bow cannon unleashed its bolt of crimson energy through the night sky, putting Stenson's hard labor to keep his vision to waste once more.
The shot from Ell-Tee's gun rang out in succession from the bow's answer, after the slight up-angle tilt for further range. It was on this burst that Stenson was engrossed in marvel and not the sudden surprise of being blinded. It was on the bow's additional firing when Stenson felt his heart beat stronger with confidence; the smell of ozone mixed with ocean feeding him the pride, along with the sense of the coming sting of reprisal in their offering, hitting Robotnick where he would feel it this time. And when the rapid succession of the last set of sighting shots were freed with their barrels, launching them backwards upon their energetic departure, Stenson slowly rose the binoculars back to his eyes and followed the six dazzling orbs that sped through the foggy void and began their slight descent towards the–
It was as if the sun was making a very early calling and at a brisk pace. Without letting a moment escape through his fingers, Stenson brought his binoculars down and let the nakedness of his eyes behold the sight of the first direct hit. Through the fog, and even across the stretched distance, he could see the faint anatomy of a fiery plum light up the dark sky. The sea glimmered as the passing burst of light licked at the ripples, and aiding the fog to briefly showing it's haze. But just as said light was becoming extinguished, a second explosion of yellow followed, flanking the first, from what Stenson could measure from their floating position, by mere centimeters to the left. This one burned brighter and held its form longer, lasting well into its fanfare when the second set of bolts landed amidst the ensuing chaos Stenson was bringing to Eggman's back porch.
Between the ringing in his ears from the previous hammering of cannon fire, and the splash of the sea from the Hawking cutting into it, the distant thunder finally pitched across the water, starting as a sudden ascent in pitch before the rapid decrescendo to silence. At which time from the first direct hit fairly announcing itself curtly, the second barked at Stenson, louder in pitch, deeper in tone, as if it were a chanting voice. For it was.
And for the crew, it was the rallying cry to trigger their's, letting their whoops and hollers pour over the deck of the ship.
The horizon was soon pelted with two more series of afar explosions. With these flickers in Stenson's pupils, he shifted back inside the bridge, took note of the GPS screen with a glance, and let his eyes fall on the peacoat of Petty Officer Trent:
"Fire at will; pass it on quickly!"
Trent nodded, though it wasn't received as Stenson glided away and back outside once more. Grabbing the mike from the wall-mounted radio, Trent spoke evenly through it. "Fire at will, repeat, all guns fire at will!"
The ship was rocked again by its own devices. Both guns were locked in a match of sheer performance, the crew seemingly in competition with each other, seeing which side was the fastest at dishing out the shots, while showing which cannon was the better of the two. Every clap from Ell-Tee's cannon was followed up almost as soon as the racing red bolt left the barrel with the bow's answer. If this was a race that Stenson was seeing, then Ell-Tee was firmly in the lead. From the quarter minute of his "fire-at-will" order, the long dread-locked Legionnaire's crew had successfully launched and landed four shots into the belly of the fat-man's water hole. Of what type of objects of Eggman's affection Stenson was laying waste, the Field Marshal didn't know, however the growing brightness of the horizon was the body of evidence that mass destruction was being played out.
What started as sprinkles of explosions were now nothing more than a climatic firework show gone horridly wrong for the spectators. It was a homey, but yet cruel feeling, that Stenson was glad he wasn't one of them.
A sudden harsh flash engrossed the night sky as a bellowing chaos of orange and yellow erupted in front of them. When its clapping echo thundered across the sea, it nearly took Stenson off his feet just by the sheer volume of the crescendo. A vivid, gaping grin bathed his face as the elements of his labors were becoming the sweet taste of triumph of which he was longing to indulge. The aroma of ozone magnified his yearning satisfaction, like wine without the heartburn afterwards, but leaving the same taste in his mouth as when it was initially drunk. This was the taste of battle.
The taste of victory.
The fiery plum from afar died; with it, his lust. A new longing took its place–Lar-Na. She wasn't by his side this time, unlike previous engagements where she watched as if she were a concert goer spoiled in a press-box. As his rank took him away from battles at the front and into bunkers to wield them over a holo-table, she became an object to smile upon when things went either good or bad. But now she was ill, and he afraid the sweat smell of shooting guns would become poison to her fragile lungs. He knew it had to be distressing for her to hear the wonton chaos topside, secluded in their cabin for her own health, but it was that notion he was trying to preserve.
Shifting his boots for better comfort, he sighed as he looked on, still entranced with the showering crimson bolts that flew like mutated lightning-bugs into the growing saffron light towards the shore. He realize his trace drowned out the ear-splitting sounds. Glancing to the water below, he descried the choppy ripples from every flash both guns would light emit from, the concussion from the discharged plasma bolt creating this effect. It was an awesome show of firepower.
But alas, a voice in his head began to trickle to the command being inside him. It was a whisper, a mere hint that his show needed to have the curtains drawn. A voice saying that the play needed to end before it bored the audience. He hated such whispers, but they needed to be heard in such troubling times such as this. One more second of continuation could bring hell their way in reprisal. With this timing coming to a close, he listened and obeyed by turning around to the bridge.
"Cease fire! Cease fire!" –his order was repeated by Trent while he was still shouting orders– "All engines ahead full! Left-full rudder and steer to bearing one-nine-one!"
The bridge was in full fury. Stenson watched the organized zestful ballet from the corner of his eye, seeing Ell-Tee's cannon slam back from the recoil of its last shot, then slide forward soon afterwards to a smoking rest. Under the ringing in his ears he could still distinguish the telegraphs being manipulated by a red echidna in much the same attire as Petty Officer Trent, and the slapping of fingers meeting wood from the Helmsmen. The change in direction and momentum drifted up his legs to his nervous system. In reaction, his right hand met the railing for support, his face still blank in thought, his eyes watching his art of destruction pass around as theHawking made its turn.
"Order weapons to stand-down after half an hour!"
Ell-Tee's voice was a startling surprise to his left. And so was his presence. "Will do, Captain," he affirmed with an assuring nod.
Stenson's relieved smile had the effect of lifting the fog. "Well done, Ell-Tee. If only the enemies on Angel Island could bear our crushing resolve."
"In due time, Field Marshal. I remember some echidna told me to have patience when such wishes are expressed."
Stenson nodded graciously once again, knowing that said echidna was standing in his boots. "What happens if you're promoted, Ell-Tee? Will you still keep your name–"
"Don't go there, sir. It's not who I am, and I will turn it down faster than a heartbeat and a plasma bolt."
"It's just deserves," Stenson protested earnestly.
"Then keep me how I am, sir," countered the long dread-locked Legionnaire, his bearing acting as a wall for Stenson to crumble. The mortar was strong in his voice.
"May I ask why, Ell-Tee, before I cast my decision?"
Allowing a glance to the passing water, the Hawkingstill laboring in its turn to the south, Ell-Tee sighed solemnly before returning his certitude look to Stenson. "Sir, I belong where I am. To me, sir, a promotion would be a detriment to our fight, and the absence of my experience in the line of duty and battle would, in my mind, cause more deaths on our side than theirs. And if you ask me, I'd rather see more deaths on their end. So keep me where I am. I'd feel like a loner and a let down, sir, if I'd be promoted."
A firm, musing smile came across his lips. "You'd be the oldest Lieutenant in the Legion," Stenson quipped unabashed.
"Then so be my legacy," Ell-Tee resounded with exaggerated pride. But Stenson could see it was taken to heart.
And yet, something else took to his own. "Speaking of which: I'm sorry I snapped at you earlier the way I did. It wasn't my intention to be shrewd to you–"
"Sir, permission to speak freely?"
"You've always have with me Ell-Tee," Stenson offered with a welcoming smile.
Swallowing for a rational voice, Ell-Tee looked to his Field Marshal, after the many years he'd known him, with the eyes of an understanding, sympathetic friend. Eyes of a long time comrade who could share the tears of the horrors of war, and be mindful of the principle exhuming from them. For the mood in his eyes reflected the history between the two that rang truer than the feeling itself. "Stenson, sir, I've never understood the birds and the damn bees, but I can honestly say sir, as a comrade, that you had a right, I guess, to be that way with me."
"No one had to, Ell-Tee."
"Did you feel better, sir?" the Legionnaire asked firmly.
"No, I didn't, Ell-Tee."
"Did you feel in your heart to tell me the problem afterwards?"
"Yes, in a bad way, I did."
"There you go. I can't explain it, Field Marshal, but some things have to be lead by a strong hand for an easier way to break the cycle in the long run. If it made you feel better, renewed you fighting spirt so as to keep Lar-Na with us and with you...then you had the right to snap at me. If it was for anything less, I would have taken your apology and your stinking promotion just out of spite."
A shout from Trent never broke the two Legionaires' stare from each other. "Course at one-nine-one, Captain."
"Very well," Stenson choused as a side glance. He still had his gracious eyes attuned to Ell-Tee.
And at last, Ell-Tee broke his bearing into a smile. "My I suggest you batten down the hatches with Lar-Na, sir, and let me and Corporal Vickers stand the rest of the night as watch."
"You'd do that?"
"Absolutely, Field Marshal. Be with her while she still presides in this world with us. Aurora and Dimitri knows she deserves it. Shoot, for that matter–"
Stenson cut off Ell-Tee with a firm grasp at his semi-replaced shoulder. "Loud and clear, Lieutenant." Leaning to Ell-Tee's ear as he began to make his journey below, he let a warming whisper stray from his lips. "Ell-Tee...Henderson...you are a true friend...if only our ranks and customs would permit us to enjoy our company."
A shallow nod with crisp eyes shouted louder than Ell-Tee's voice. "Like wise, sir. Like wise."
Squeezing Ell-Tee's shoulder, Stenson released his grip and took a long stride inside the bridge. Giving a curt bow of his head to Petty Officer Trent was enough of an order that said Ell-Tee was in command and he was turning in.
"Night, Captain."
"Night, Petty Officer. Hopefully we'll reach the Island by morning and we can be done with this name calling."
Trent said to nothing, only twitching his head.
Exiting, Stenson felt the swamp of tiredness hit his head. However he may have felt, Vickers was on his way up the steps to the bridge. Stenson stopped, allowing the Corporal to pass on a rare occasion, and nodded.
"Night, Corporal."
"Turning in early, sir?"
"Ell-Tee's orders."
A light chuckle. "Ell-Tee giving you orders, sir?"
"Sometimes the king of the food chain needs to have advice shoved his way."
"I hear that, sir."
Stenson, however, eyed him earnestly. "Don't take it to heart, Corporal."
"I hear that, too, sir." Vickers suddenly had this stroke of genius flash before his eyes that held Stenson's attention to him awhile longer. "Sir, how do you plan on explaining the Sergeant's absence to Kommisar? You know...Wesson?"
Twisting his lips in musing, Stenson held a short pause in the sticky air before he relinquished part of his conjured speech that he aimed to give Lien-Da upon their return:
"Killed in action while trying to secure a perimeter for the refugees." His eyes grew sharp in sternness. "Can you concur that, Corporal?"
"Died a hero's death, Field Marshal!" Vicker's responded with a mirthful grin.
"You're a good soldier," Stenson complimented eagerly, then stepped beside Vickers and went down the stairs.
The Corporal watched him descend, the glow of the port raging in fire being the light of which he saw him. He watched him land on the main deck. Watched him reach the bulkhead passageway to the inside. Saw him get swallowed in it before closing the hatch. And when Vicker's felt Stenson's aura of command dissipate in the passing wind, he surrendered himself to the confines of the bridge, skirting inside, then back out to the starboard side with Ell-Tee.
He identified right away that his Lieutenant's mood was somehow sour.
"Sir, orders?"
It seemed that he didn't hear Vickers, but he had and fought himself to look away at the sea to address him. "Stand down after we're clear of shore."
"Yes, sir..." Ell-Tee's face strayed back to the water, causing Vicker's mouth to open in question. "Sir, something wrong?"
Again, Ell-Tee seemed to not have heard him; struggling again to look away from his sanctuary of the sea. "The damn birds and the bees, Corporal," he finally said, almost with a soured sigh. "Go fetch me some coffee, and I assure you I'll be back in my standard mood. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!"
When Vicker's had left, his head slumped lower than his shoulders, Ell-Tee was ready for the long night...he wanted the hours to tick by, counting his blessings that he had Stenson as a friend...
And a Commander for life.
Reading back over this...and a long time since I have seen this chapter (my poor editor has been engulfed with work and stress) I smiled when I came across Ell-Tee's real name, and realized I had forgotten I had made one for him. For me its a gem at a museum. Captivating to behold in your eyes, but never able to hold it. Will I mention his name again...no. In fact, if I were you all...I'd cherish it.
Thanks again, and of course, reviews are gratefully accepted at the door.