A VTOL dropship was seen flying over some forested, snowy hilltops on Cocoa Island. Inside the dropship, the Helljumpers were preparing their gear for a hard landing. All types of weaponry were seen in the transport, as Miles, Helljumper 9, or simply Helljumper to those he met in the field, made sure his rifle was working and his beam cannon was charged. As they finished their collective shakedown, Helljumper Leader briefed the squad. "We're looking at an abandoned relay outpost about 50 klicks into the Caron Forest, we're gonna introduce ourselves to whatever took it out, and see if we can't repurpose it." "Well it wasn't one of ours, and the Kukku wouldn't blast their own installation for no reason" Responded Helljumper 2, and most of the squad was in agreement. Before they could continue however, the pilot spoke from the front of the dropship. "We have hostile aircraft inbound, attempting to evade."

BOOM

"Thrusters hit, we're going down!" Everyone braced themselves for another hit, before Leader gave the order. "Everyone out!" The squad scrambled to leap out of the plummeting aircraft, and Miles got swept away by the wind as soon as he jumped off. "So this is all part of the plan, right?" asked Allison, Helljumper's AI companion and best friend. "It is now. Not sure what you're worried about, last I checked AI don't suffer from impact craters." Allison let out an audible smirk before delivering her rebuttal. "Yes but if you die I can't move the suit, so it would be in both of our best interest for you to not." "Your concern is touching, brace yourself."

Helljumper managed to stabilise himself and hit the ground with a thud, almost landing on some sort of drone. It wasn't of Kukku design and didn't seem armed. As he picked himself back up, the drone got closer and started playing some kind of message. "Greetings, if you are seeing this message, it is because you are the closest person to me that exists in your timeline. I need your help. Please hold still." Before Helljumper could object, he was covered in some type of energy/light/thing, and seemingly disappeared. All that was left was a slight burn mark on the ground.

*Twenty minutes before the briefing*

"The fox has landed…", Sherlock whispered to himself, as he landed quite softly on the metallic floor, after a quite tricky acrobatic maneuver.

The landscape of his sight was quite large, a giant space-ship, really spacious, but he did not see anyone, not a single living soul was present.

As he usually liked to do, he decided to take things on his own, and decided to explore the hallways, and every little detail of it…

He began to walk towards the north, as he winged slowly with his stick, observing the entrance, "3 directions, possible 3 hallways with at least..", he looked a little closer, "enough rooms…", smiling to himself, he kept walking further.

The hallways themselves resembled a metal labyrinth, with lots of doors, the interest peaked for Sherlock, as one of the doors was opened, no light, no sign of a guard, he pushed the door a little with his stick, to open it fully, and turned on the light.

He crouched on the floor, and flicked his gloved finger through the substance, "Bright red…".

He smelled it, close enough to his fluffy snoot, "Blood, that's for sure…", he carefully laid down on the floor, to look even closer, "Fresh blood, probably from 1-3 hours ago, but how did it get…".

He began to think, but the stress surrounding the discovery was too much for the fox, "AH FUCK THIS BULLSHIT!", he took his pistol out of the pocket in the coat, and shot the lightbulb just above him, and after that, furiously slamming the door behind him, he continued to walk.

Sherlock's mind began to trick him, as always, it was really difficult for the kitsune to handle situations, where he could not figure things out.

"You see? You are useless…", the voice inside him yelled, "Ah shut up for Chaos'", he waved his hand infant of him, trying to get the thoughts off his brain…

"You stupid moron, who would like you here… Look at yourself…", he quickly inhaled and exhaled.

"ENOUGH I SAID FUCK OFF!", he slammed his fist against the wall, trying to relieve himself from the outgoing stress load he was experiencing.

Slowly sitting on the floor, the kitsune began to feel a wave of pain through his body, the figure of a two-tailed fox just like him appeared in the hallway, as the light reflected him with a shadow crossing between Sherlock's sight…

"Hey, what's up with you? I heard you yelling."

Sherlock raised his head as he looked closely at the person, "And who are you?"

"Uh, my name's Antarius Prower. But most people just call me AJ. What's your name?"

The fox was quite confused over the outgoing situation, "Sherlock Prower, detective... And most people call me... Well you get the idea..."

As he began to inspect Antarius closely, looking for any possible clues about him.

"A detective, eh? That's pretty cool. I'm a scientist myself. I work in astrophysics. Well, I used to. I'll spare you from my sob story."

Sherlock stopped staring for a second... "Quite well dressed, tall individual, looking at your lab coat, a lot of saints, quite dry, probably from... 3? 4 Months? As far as I can deduce, you have been quite busy with something and now you are here on this ship alongside me, and judging by the naming controversy, there are more people like us, am I wrong… Antarius?

He finished his speech as he carefully got up from the floor.

Antarius' eyes widened and he adjusted the eyeglasses on his snout. "That's an impressive skill you got there. I have been working on something for a while now, but I haven't made any

breakthroughs."

The detective didn't speak, instead, he just grabbed Antarius' hand and proceeded to a hand-shake...

"Well, I hope we can figure this out, and give it an end..."

"Well of course. Looking forward to working with you."

As Sherlock's abrupt flashback to his meeting with Doctor Antarius Prower ended, his mind and senses were back in the present...

The Admiral of the ship had called a briefing to all the Miles Prowers that have arrived on the ship. Cane felt out of place when he heard what was planned for them. A full frontal all out war against what was possibly the most evil Robotnik in the multiverse.

Cane didn't feel so good. He was surrounded by strangers, had no idea where to go, and nothing seemed even remotely familiar. Even the ship's artificial gravity seemed to be ever so slightly different. Cane simply sighed at the end of the briefing, and heard the footsteps and chatters as everyone headed their own way.

Cane tried to stop someone, anyone who could just possibly help him around. Maybe give him a map he could feel out with his hand? Or at the very least a tour so he could memorize the place to make it a bit more familiar?

He then found himself standing in darkness with everybody gone. They probably went to their own rooms or began exploring the ship. Left alone in the void, Cane had no option but to take the basic route. He grabbed his umbrella from the back of his satchel and tapped his way towards the closest wall. He placed one hand on it, and began walking forwards. It was the safest option as of now, when he had literally no information available to him.

"Excuse me, sir?"

Cane turned to the source of the sound, a woman in her early ages with a strong, confident voice. Damnit, he thought. I don't recall this person's voice.

"Yes, hello. I go by...Cane." He actually never went by that name. He was always known as Tails, but he figured he might as well make a third name for this very strange situation.

"As you can see, I'm lost and blind. Not a very good combination. Could you perhaps help me find my way to...anywhere? I would actually really appreciate it if you could tour me around the place."

"Of course, my name is Elisabeth Volkov. My great grandfather, Admiral Prower, introduced me earlier during the briefing. I now realize I haven't said anything during that. That would have made things a bit difficult for you to recognize my voice." She smiled, grabbing Cane's wrist and leading the way forwards.

However, this was not the right choice. Cane stumbled forwards when he was tugged abruptly without warning, causing him to trip and fall.

"Oh dear! I am so sorry!" Elisabeth leaned over to help him up, which Cane answered by chuckling to himself.

"It's fine. Blind people get used to this. People are always so eager to help but then they pull at our hands real hard. It's fine, really. I trip and fall all the time anyways."

Elisabeth smiled apologetically, but realized that body language meant nothing to this fox. "I'm sorry. I'll make sure to warn you first before I take any action."

"That sounds great. Could you perhaps lead me towards the sleeping quarters? I would like to have a place where I can know I could return to at will." Cane took the initiative this time and gently held Elisabeth's hand, inviting her to guide the way.

Unknown to Cane, his action formed a small blush on the soldier's cheeks. She was glad that he was blind for that very moment, and led him to the room he would be staying at.

On the way to his room, Cane decided that asking several questions might lighten up the mood.

"How old are you?"

"How old do I look?"

"...Is that a trick question?"

"Sorry. Too used to men asking me that. That's my go to answer most of the time but...I suppose that doesn't work in this case, huh? I'll just let you know I'm not 20 yet, but I am an adult."

Cane thought about what she said. Two thoughts could be reasonably concluded from that. One, she was a fairly attractive woman if men asked her age that often. And two, she was either the same age as him or a year older.

"I'm 18, just in case you were curious."

"I was, actually. Thank you for telling me. Is there anything else you want to ask?"

"Yes, You aren't wearing a glove and your hands don't feel like mine. They feel like a human's. However, you said that the Admiral was your great grandfather. Are you a mobian or a human?"

Elisabeth raised her eyebrows in surprise at the question. She never thought about how one might not recognize the species of the other person they were talking to. "Well, I'm assuming that you mean Keplerian? That's what we call it here in our universe. My ancestry does go up to the Admiral, yes, so I am part Keplerian, but I have mostly human biology. I just happen to have a fox's tail and ears." She flicked her tail so that it would brush against Cane's leg. He shivered.

"Fascinating...Well, are we near the living quarters yet?"

"As a matter of fact, yes we are." She paused for a moment so he could look around the rec room and the hallway that led to the bedrooms, but then she remembered who she was talking to. "We're here. This is the rec room, and we have some stuff to do here. I'm not so sure what you could do here by yourself...but why don't you sit down on the couch over there? I'll be back in a jiggy." She let go of his furry hand, and walked away. Cane rolled his fingers around the handle of his umbrella, and made his way over to a couch that felt strangely familiar.

"Is a chesterfield sofa from Marks & Spencer's a constant in the universe?"

There were few things that were new to Miles at this point.

He had stood alongside the greatest heroes, supporting them in their struggles against man and monster alike, lost the things he treasured most and, considerably more rarely, managed to regain them again. And he had saved the world.

He couldn't even begin to count how many times he'd saved the world. With time being the way it was, he'd potentially saved an infinite number of worlds, had sacrificed a considerably larger infinite number of things to do so, and would presumably continue to relapse into this terrible habit until something finally managed to kill him.

Not that he was certain that he had the free will necessary to die.

So it was with a breath of experience that rivaled the universe itself that Miles could say with some confidence that he didn't really care for his own company very much. Few people had hurt him as frequently, or as thoroughly, as himself, over the years.

It was starting to turn out that he didn't like this ship very much either.

Miles trudged alone down another metal corridor, tails swirling around one another as he glanced from floor to ceiling and moved on, mentally mapping his environment as he went.

No rings.

He'd met at least a dozen alternatives to himself at this point, and those just the ones he could remember. Yet somehow he alone had been recognisably… mobian? Giants with fur, born without rings, worlds without chaos. One was almost human, and clearly human enough, if his progeny were any indication.

He didn't like humans much either. He could slice a robot in two with a flick of his tails, he had no illusions what even an involuntary twitch might do to a human if he stopped paying attention, or if he even bumped into one at the wrong speed.

For all he knew the same applied to the other foxes on board. A crew of eggshells and an empty ship, trying to save the world.

Same story, different faces.

Miles sighed, slipping into another ringless corridor adorned with doors too tall and handles too high.

"Is someone there?" A doppelganger asked, white umbrella clutched in his hand, eyes turned in his direction, closed and unseeing.

"Nobody important." A fine pair they made, him looking for what wasn't there and Umbrella blind to what was.

Miles walked on without stopping.

An armoury. Miles glanced in to see Nuts arguing with… Basically another Nuts. Seemed "macho trooper" was a pretty popular choice in the multiverse. Still no rings. He left them to it.

No rings but plenty of time. Miles shook his head. If he stopped to pay attention he could practically hear the time stones screaming inside him. And outside him. Were they even different time stones? Could the time stones on this Little Planet be the same as his own, just different moments? They called him just the same. Probably kill him just as quick.

He turned on his heel around a corner, away from the engine room. Doors, empty and useless, passed either side of him, designed for a bigger crew.

"Are you lost?" A woman's voice asked, breaking his concentration.

Miles paused, glancing about himself in the empty corridor for the source of the voice. "Don't lost people need somewhere they want to go?"

"Not if others are looking for them."

"Were you looking for me?"

"I am aware of the location of all lifeforms currently aboard this vessel."

"Guess I'm not lost then." Miles smiled, finally spotting the speaker. A mobian lynx stared at him from a screen. He'd thought it a portrait. "Hello, you're new."

"I assure you that is not the case, Mister… Prower?"

"A meaningless designation here, I'm sure. Call me whatever." Miles shrugged, gazing up at the screen.

"Confirmed, Mister Whatever. I am NICOLE. Please advise me in future if you require assistance."

"Likewise." Miles waved as the monitor went blank once more, waiting a moment longer before turning away.

And Miles walked on, peering up at empty corners and signs too high for comfort. At least for his species. Were mobians common here? Their UI was based around one, at least. Did they have their own rings? Would a native be wondering why he was wandering around not collecting any?

Hm… Actually, could humans see rings in his universe? The number of villains who decided to have climactic showdowns right next to plentiful supplies of rings suggested otherwise. If Robotnik, mad genius that he was, could see rings wouldn't he have designed traps based on them?

Perhaps humans had only the barebones idea how Mobians worked? You hurt them once, they're fine, hurt them twice and sometimes, if you're quick enough, the damage sticks? Robotnik might be able to detect the presence of ring energy, but not actually be able to tell when it had coalesced into mobian-usable rings...

An interesting hypothesis, and one well worth testing when he finally made it home again, assuming he remembered.

Miles rounded another corner, tapping his lips as he mused at methodology.

"Ah!"

A leg longer than he was tall thudded into him. Miles tumbled backwards, desperately clamping down on his reflexes. Even spinning his tails to recover would be like their face planting into the propeller of his biplane.

So instead he fell, arms at his sides, letting out an involuntary squeak as a knee landed on his chest.

"Gorden Bennett! What did I-" The woman let out a wordless yell of surprise as she grabbed his tail, twitched her own, and bolted upright a moment later. "Oh, sorry about that. Didn't see you down there."

"It's fine." Miles sat up, brushing fingers across his fur. He delicately accepted the human's hand to pull himself up. "I've had worse."

"Ah, I saw you at the briefing, didn't I?"

Miles peered up at the fair haired human knelt before him, vulpine ears and tail harshly out of place against her simian features.

"Yeah, I was the tall one giving the speech?" Miles put on a grin. The woman snorted. "May as well call me Ever. Your AI already does. And you're… Sergeant Volkov?"

"Ah, I'm just a corporal, Ever."

"Sorry. They don't have many armies where I'm from."

They never needed them. One or two mobian abnormals were an army.

Volkov, still kneeling, shook his outstretched hand. "Don't worry. You're considered a junior technical attaché on this mission, we won't be holding you up to military standards." She looked up the corridor he came down. "So how old are you, Ever?"

"How old do I look?" Miles smiled up at her.

The not-quite human stared at him, lips moving silently for a moment.

"Um… six?"

"Let's say nine."

That was what his last birthday had celebrated, at least.

"I see. And what is it you were doing out here?"

"Unless the term 'ring energy' bears some special meaning to you then I guess I was just exploring." Miles shrugged. "I'll need to set up a workspace at some point."

"Oh? And what is it that you can do for us?"

"I do a little bit of everything." Miles smiled. He meant that more literally than most. "But mostly I handle technology and design."

"Ah yes, the little red robot suit you brought in? Very cute." Volkov smiled. "Well how about I bring you to engineering and we'll see if we can't get you a little workstation, alright?"

She stood, stretching out a hand. Miles tilted his head at it, pondering a moment before taking it.

"It's just back down this corridor. Have you already been shown to your quarters?"

"It's fine, I don't sleep much. I'd just like to get to work right now."

"Well, okay. When you get tired be sure to ask someone to bring you there, alright?"

Miles nodded blandly. He knew where they were going. He could feel the pressure with every step, a buzzing in his bones that filled him with equal parts dread and anticipation.

The engine room.

The time stones.

What would happen if they touched? Different world, no rings? He'd intentionally left himself one short, knowing the consequences, just as he'd arranged to bring it here, knowing what might be necessary. Now he was heading towards… seven?

Miles stopped dead, slipping out of the corporal's gentle grip with a light twist.

"On second thought, I think I'll find my own spot. Thanks anyway!"

By the time Corporal Volkov managed to turn to protest, Miles was already gone, the crack of air pressure the only evidence he'd been there at all.

"Well," chuckled Bertram 'Skye' Robotnik-Prower, the human-keplarian hybrid folding his arms beside his grandfather. "The fellows appear to be getting along, sir…"

"Indeed," the Admiral clasped his hands behind his back. Here, in the Warspite's lounge, the rest of the crew were busy watching as Blazkowicz and Helljumper sweated through an intense arm-wrestling match. The two armoured soldiers were instantly d333333333333333eveloping a competitive relationship, and this was the second such instance of trying to outdo one another, the first being a brief sniff around their respective armoured suits.

Well, most were watching. Cane, the blind fox, clutched an umbrella between his legs and stared off into a wall as he consulted his companion. "Who's winning?"

Beside him, clad in his usual coat and hat combo, 'Sherlock' Prower offered a shrug. "At the moment, still a tie!"

"Who's your money on?" Another adult, Antarius Prower, adjusted his spectacles and nodded to the battling marines, "The tall one or the short one?"

"I'm not short!" Snarled the indeed much shorter Nuts. Even in armour, the marine was some inches shorter than the other adults.

"Had enough yet, shorty?" said Helljumper, more casually known as 'Jumper' among the foxes.

"Eat me, humper!"

The other fox grimaced as he put all his strength into his grip, and slowly but surely Blazkowicz' gauntleted right hand smacked into the metal surface of the table they shared.

"ARGH!" Nuts growled and thrust an accusing finger at the other marine as he stood, teeth bared and his other fist clenched. "BULLSHIT!"

Jumper spread his arms. "Maybe eat more greens? Grow up big and strong like me?"

Nuts muttered expletives beneath his breath and retreated, working a twinge out of his arm as he settled back beside Miles.

"Still having your dick-swinging contest, boys?" All eyes fell on the Admiral's other grandchild, 'Volkov', effectively the ship's head of security and combat operations, as she entered the lounge clad in her own suit of powered armour. Like her cousin, the woman was a mix of both Keplarian fox and human, complete with the ears and tail, though almost no fur.

"Just a little friendly competition, ma'am!" Jumper said in reply.

"That so?" The woman's ears perked as she glanced back to Nuts. "Eyes up, marine."

Nuts, who was extremely starved of female companionship in his home dimension, offered her a snarky grin. "Dunno what you're talking about, ma'am!"

"Uh huh. You, don't get up…" the woman gestured to the other marine as he began to leave his seat, and set herself across from him. "Let's have a go then, big chap!"

Jumper grinned and, again, leaned forward as the two clasped hands. A short while later, after another intense bout of arm wrestling, Volkov's hand hit the table.

"Jesus Christ!" The stocky woman shook her hand, "You're a strong one!"

"Marine conditioning, ma'am!" Jumper replied smugly, before gesturing to his other companions. "And the suit," he added with a shrug. "Anybody else fancy a go?"

There was a murmur among the foxes, before a small voice piped up. "Actually…" Miles, the smallest of the bunch, raised his hand and stepped forward. "I wouldn't mind, if that's okay?"

Everybody looked on in bewilderment as the smallest fox settled himself down before his much bigger counterpart. Jumper raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Uh… you sure about that, kid?"

Miles wore a strange little smile and nodded.

"Okay then…" the Helljumper reached out his hand, fully intent on going easy on the kid. "Give it your best, kiddo!"

Miles looked around before taking his seat. "Can I… get a boost from somebody?" the little fox asked innocently.

Nuts grinned and shook his head. "Sure thing, kiddo…" Seating himself at the table, Blazkowicz allowed his smaller companion to clamber into his lap, Miles leaning his elbow on the table and reaching out with a gloved hand.

"Ready…" the small fox said, a curious expression on his face.

The two clasped hands… and Jumper's hit the table within a second. The marine yelped in surprise at the utterly unexpected strength of the kid's arm. "What the-"

"Interesting," Miles said with that weird little smile on his face. "Would you like to try again?"

Jumper indeed did try again, this time bracing and putting more resistance into it… and once again, his hand hit the table. Behind the two foxes, Nuts barked with laughter, while Cane consulted Sherlock again. "Did the kid really just win?"

"Outstanding, young fellow!" Sherlock chuckled, Cane frowning in confusion.

"Jeez, kid!" Jumper shook his head and grinned at the smaller fox, "Where'd that come from?!"

"I'm stronger than an ant by bodyweight," Miles said matter-of-factly, "I'm not the strongest, but I could probably bench press my own plane." The small fox looked around, wearing a thoughtful expression. "I just wanted to see how strong you were. It's fascinating to me how different mobians are in other dimensions…"

Nuts, Jumper, and Elisabeth all shared a look. "Dude…" said Nuts, "We need to take this kid to the gym!"

Miles' ears drooped beneath their scrutiny. "I'm sorry? Agh!"

"Come on kid!" Nuts grinned, picking up the small fox and tucking him beneath one arm like a football, "Let's see how much you can lift!"

"Hey!" Elisabeth stormed after the marines, intent of regulating their mischief. "Don't break anything!"

"Yes, Skye…" the Admiral chuckled, "our comrades do appear to be getting along just fine…"

"Indeed, sir."

"Anyway," Admiral Prower turned to regard his grandson, "I suppose we had better clear the old girl for takeoff…"

The young vulpinemimi nodded. "Aye, sir."

"Doctor Prower!" the Admiral spoke up, "Mister Sherlock! My grandson here requires your assistance in Engineering!"

"Oh, good!" the detective grinned, "I was becoming rather bored!"

"Lucky for you you have the best astrophysics expert on my Mobius!" Antarius said smugly.

"Quite," the vulpine-human hybrid flicked his tails and gestured to the door. "If you care to follow me, gentlemen?"

The trio left to pursue their objective, leaving the Admiral alone with Cane. The older fox frowned as the younger sighed. "Mister Cane?" the Admiral said, "Is everything alright?"

"I guess…" the blind fox adjusted his dark glasses and sighed miserably, "I don't suppose I'm good for much? Being blind and all."

The admiral felt a stab of sympathy for the blind fox. Admiral Prower himself had endured more than his fair share of life-altering injuries... from being shot through the head and put back together, suffering months of debilitating trauma, to finally being offed altogether and brought back as an artificial intelligence. Whether he was still the same man who had died that day in a suicidal ramming attack against an Egg Carrier or simply a deluded machine with the memories of another… the Admiral still did not know.

The Admiral frowned as he considered, the young man before him unseeing. There had to be something the fox could do, the Admiral was sure of it. He gestured to a small device clutched in Cane's hand. "What's that you have there, young chap?"

"My Vulpis…" Cane replied with a wisp of a smile, staring blankly into nothing, "It allows me to interface with appropriate tech and control it neurally… not much use here, though. Like me…"

The Admiral smiled, an idea entering his brain. "I wouldn't say that, Mister Cane…"

Cane cocked his head quizzically. "Excuse me?"

"Perhaps we can modify your device…" The Admiral stroked his muzzle, "And then you might find you're not as useless as you think…"

Cane frowned, before a small grin played at his muzzle as he understood the Admiral's meaning "sounds like a plan, sir…"

With a rhythmic banging sound going through the air, Helljumper kept his aim sharp in the Warspite's firing range. He needed to get the targets all set up and dusted off first, since the ship has been mothballed for so long, but it wasn't difficult. Even as one of the best soldiers in the Mobian Armed Forces, he was easily able to keep his mechanical skills sharp. His self initiated training session was slightly interrupted, however, when Nuts entered the room behind him. Helljumper turned his head slightly to acknowledge him, but remained firing.

"So you're keeping yourself busy, how's your arm? You got slammed into the table pretty hard" asked Nuts, who sounded surprisingly genuine given his response to losing the arm wrestle.

"In one piece still, it was partially dislocated afterwards but I managed to sort that out myself. So how come you're down here, you getting some practice as well?" Helljumper inquired.

"As if i need it, I could probably blast 5 of those targets to splinters before you can reload" Nuts responded with a smug look on his face. Helljumper decided to test his theory.

"If that's a challenge, you're on. There's another weapon on the table behind you."

Nuts took a look behind him, and the 'weapon' in question seemed to just be a 9mm pistol. "You expect me to use this?"

"Well if you're so confident in your abilities surely you would be able to do it anyway?" Helljumper was very clearly smirking under his helmet at how well he was able to set this up, and Nuts was very clearly pissed off.

"Oh i'll show you, lock and load Jumpy."

"Alright Bolt Brain, I'll reset the targets. Hope your trigger finger is quicker to sound off than your temper."

Helljumper got up from the firing lane and got the training floor set up for another round. He set up an audible timer through his helmet, and the pair aimed their guns down lane and put fingers on triggers. As the timer reaches zero, both soldiers let lead fly down the aisle, and in about 4 seconds every single target was riddled with bullet holes. Helljumper lifted himself off the firing platform and started grinning like an idiot. "I count five out of nine, better luck next time buddy."

"Bullshit, did your AI friend install an aimbot in that helmet of yours?" Nuts said, suspecting Helljumper of cheating.

"No, Allison is trying to remotely interface with the Warspite's systems in case an extra pair of hands is ever needed. I can always take the helmet off you think that will somehow make you do better." Helljumper likely wasn't expecting a response so soon, and is a little surprised when Nuts doesn't hesitate to answer.

"Yes actually, I'm curious if that would change anything. Not to mention you haven't taken it off since you got here."

With this, Helljumper placed his rifle down and lifted his helmet off of his head. What some people might have expected is some orange fur on an innocent looking face. In reality, his fur was dulled almost to grey in some places, had a large scar over his left eye, and a good third of his face was covered in scar tissue from burn damage. Nuts is slightly taken aback by the sight, having not expected that much battle damage on the fox. "What's the matter Blazky? Never seen a wound before? I'll humour you, time how quick I can blast all of the targets."

Getting a timer ready, and after a short countdown, Helljumper's rifle roared to life, snapping from target to target like an aimbot in a first person shooter game, until all nine of them had a fair amount of bullseyes shot through each. "Aimbot or not, that's damn impressive. What kind of training programs did you slog through?"

Seemingly blanking out for a moment, Helljumper seems to recall some of his not so fond memories. "Sorry Nutty, the inner workings of Project Thermopylae are classified beyond belief. I am one of three people directly involved that knows what went on, and that's because everyone else is dead as far as I know, and you don't seem like the 'hacker' type."

"Well if 'Thermopylae' is what made you into that, I think I'd be better off not knowing. Out of curiosity, what's your total kill count?"

Helljumper seemed to reflect for a second, clearly trying to remember the official number, and came up blank. "Too high to count, they just designated me 'hyper lethal' and let that say the rest. It basically means that the number of targets I've killed is too high to count. No one really knows the actual number, not even me."

"One hell of a title then, glad you're on our side."

"Well from what I've heard about you you're close enough to hyper lethal yourself, demonic invasions from hell are a little above my usual pay grade."

This time it was Nuts' turn to let out a smirk, and lean backwards against a wall. "Yea well, It's a long story."

While he walked, Dr. Prower took time to inspect the spaceship. For a warship, she was rather elegant. Smooth floors, polished metal, and portholes facing the outside. He'd never been in a place of this size before, and he felt small.

"Say, what exactly is this thing? Aren't ships supposed to be in the ocean?" he asked.

The Admiral's great-grandson cleared his throat. "Well yes, normal ships stay in the ocean. This here is the HMTS Warspite. She's not only built for the sea, but for space as well. That is why my grandfather asked for your assistance. You say you're an astrophysicist? Well, let's test that theory."

Sherlock had been walking alongside the others the whole time. Completely silent.

"Hey, what about you? What's your deal?" The doctor asked him."

"Me? Well, I'm a detective back on my Mobius. One of the best. Apparently, I have the skills to help save the multiverse. Heh, who'd've known?"

The trio came upon a door at the end of the hallway. Admiral's great-grandson scanned a card that was attached to a lanyard around his neck. A beeping sound, and the door slid open with a hiss of air. Inside this room was a whole bunch of gauges, dials, and meters.

"Well, here we are. Now all we have to do is prep the ship for liftoff. Dr. Prower, I trust you know what to do. Sherlock, please come with me to inspect fuel levels."

Sherlock followed the Admiral's great-grandson out of the room, which left him with all the machinery.

"Okay then. I know how to do this."

The doctor began performing pre-flight checks on all parts of the Warspite. He checked the levels of liquid oxygen and he checked the rocket motor chamber pressure. Everything seemed to be in order. The huge rocket engines were being prepared for use, with liquid nitrogen flowing through pipes on their exterior. White vapor clouds flowed through the room.

Then the door opened.

"Is everything up to speed here? Are we ready to go?" asked the Admiral's great-grandson.

Sherlock stood next to him with a bored look on his face.

"Yes of course, everything's been checked and rechecked. We're go for launch." Dr. Prower said.

He stood up and followed Sherlock and Admiral's great-grandson back to the main area where the rest of the crew were.

"Grandfather, everything is going according to plan. We may proceed."

The Admiral sniffed as he checked an antique pocket watch he'd had stored in his archives, returning the device back to his breast pocket with satisfaction. The ship's systems had been fully checked, the engine was returned to full power, and the ship was once again ready to set sail through the stars.

The vulpine turned to regard his mish-mash crew of alternate selves, arranged around the bridge, each waiting for the Warspite's launch.

I was hoping for more, NICOLE… the Admiral shot a thought to the ship's AI.

It's what we have, sir… NICOLE replied equally silently, There are time dilations to consider… If any others should respond to our call, they will still be beamed to the transporter bay…

We can but hope… Is all the Admiral had to 'say', before clearing his throat to address the crew vocally. "Gentlemen. It is time. We are to set out on a voyage that will determine the very existence of all the multiverse. All timelines, yours, mine… everything, depends on our success. Once again I thank you all for answering the call to this most important mission. If any of you wish to return to your home dimension… now is the time."

A single hand rose, the green gauntlet of the marine known as Nuts.

"Yes, Blazkowicz?"

The marine grinned wolfishly. "Can we just get this going already, so I can go home? Got shit to do, captain."

The Admiral almost baulked at the informal response, but offered a wry smile in reply. "Anybody else have any equally… inspiring things they'd like to say?"

There was a moment of silence, before one spoke up - the lab-coated form of Doctor Antarius Prower.

"I never thought I'd amount to anything in life…" the doctor said solemnly, "Yet here I am about to help save the multiverse. Call it destiny, call it a coincidence, whatever you want. All I know is, we got a job to do. So let us begin."

There was a clunk as the fully-armoured form of the Helljumper stepped forward.

"Into the howling dark we go then. Who knows if we'll ever make it back, but we have a higher calling ahead of us. I, for one, know that if I have to give my life to preserve all that exists, I'm ready."

"I hope everybody is enjoying the view…" Cane said, bringing a snort of laughter from Nuts as he clutched his umbrella between his legs.

"Hello, to anybody listening please send a selection of mints to cargo bay seven, thank you. Ever out."

"What's the little chap doing down there, anyway?" Said Skye, referencing the crew's shortest and presently absent companion.

"Eh, I'm sure he can't get into too much trouble!" Said Sherlock cheerily, waving his pipe to the Admiral. "On your word Admiral, I believe we are all ready!"

"Very well…" The Admiral said, turning and settling himself into his command chair, "NICOLE?"

The purple hologram of the lynx shimmered into being on the chair's arm. "Yes, Admiral?"

The Admiral gestured toward the viewscreen with an arm. "Engage!"

The surface of Little Planet began to rumble, the terrain shivering as a huge slit appeared in the rocky surface. Slowly, the gap grew wider, a pair of massive hidden blast doors parting to reveal a long, bulky warship, seemingly styled on ancient 20th-century Earth vessels. Unlike those archaic designs however, this ship slowly began to rise from its moorings, levitating on plumes of what appeared to be rocket exhaust.

The Warspite hovered in the air like a ghost ship, the huge bulk of the hull held impossibly in the air by its thrusters. Thrust was expelled from the rear engines, the huge cylindrical vats spitting plumes of exhaust, the ship lethargically moving into a heading that would take it away from the planet's surface.

The ship gained speed, the enormous roar of her engines booming through the atmosphere. Before she could reach the nothing that had consumed the rest of the universe, sparks began crackling at her prow. Lances of energy, like fingers of lightning reaching out, tore through the fabric of time and space, ripping open a swirling green void like those that had transported the foxes to the ship.

Like an olympic diver perfectly entering the water, the Warspite slipped into the void, her hull sliding across dimensions… until ultimately, the ship vanished, the portal shimmered to a close, and all that remained was the echoes of the ship's thrust, rolling through the atmosphere like dissipating thunder.