It didn't take very long for Tails and his cellmate to find a comfortable routine – well, as comfortable as they were going to get in a Kessel prison cell, at least. The guards opened the top-right quarter of the shield to drop in food three times a day, at least according to what little remained of the fox's internal clock after so long away from home, and Wedge set aside about fifteen minutes in the middle of each break to try to convince Tails to pick up the holdout blaster. Other than that, they basically just talked and slept, using the time to dream about life with the Rebel Alliance.
And then there were the medical probes. The doctors still kept Tails unconscious for each of them, once every six feedings, although at least they'd only needed to shock him one more time before they got the anesthetic right. Each time he came back with the same set of holes, maybe a little wider, plus extra patches in his coat and a few aches in his tails. And sometimes there was a weird slithering pressure against his temples that made him think the medic had gone back on his promise not to inject the fox with anything more than the knockout drug. With no hard evidence, though, it was easier for him to just put it down to nerves and be grateful for the basic grooming they gave him each time too. Probably makes it easier on Wedge too, since I'm not sure which of us is oilier right now. Get me back in a machine shop and I'll totally take home the crown though.
On the subject of hygiene, it hadn't taken long for the normally apathetic kit to come up with a proper use for his jumpsuit. He'd developed a tradition of ducking bathings and groomings while he was growing up with Sonic and the hedgehog usually hadn't had any problem using him for a pillow anyway, and he'd tried to tug the orange fabric on exactly once to humor Wedge and given up in seconds. It pulled his fur flat in the wrong direction, itched like mad, didn't even have a slit for his tails, and simply wasn't his color, so wearing the silly thing wasn't really in the cards. It did, however, make for an excellent tablecloth, which made life easier not only for the two prisoners but also for the poor quartet of guards who brought them their food. Tails had also taken to tucking it under his side and flipping it up as a shelter whenever they slept. The human kept his head and chest warm while the cloth did a vaguely passable job of protecting his back and legs. Not remarkable, but better than freezing his tails off had been!
Still, even with another flier to talk to there was only so much to say, especially once they'd both worn out their voices within the first three or four meals. That left Tails with far too much time on his hands, a situation only made worse by the way his brain refused to dream and insisted on thinking. Cosmo wasn't just haunting his dreams anymore, she'd made it out into his conscious stream of thought too.
So it was a very morose fox that shook himself awake once again for Wedge's little firearms-awareness speech. Only this time, probably the thirtieth so far, it was a little different.
"Is your planet really that peaceful, Tails?" Wedge asked quietly. Tails felt the strangeness in the situation, the almost silent voices belying the scorn that was sure to follow. "You won't even use the gun in self-defense?"
"But it wouldn't be," Tails pointed out. "I'd be breaking out. They're supposed to keep me in here, so where in that do they deserve to d – to get shot?"
"You could just say the word," Wedge hissed at him. "It isn't like I'll think any less of you for it." Probably because your opinion's already at rock bottom.
But there was a little more to it than that. A technicality, but still. "There's still the stun setting. Not on this gun, you've told me, but just in general. And I'm going to wire up mine like that as soon as I get the chance. Still hope I never have to use them because that thing hurts, though."
Wedge's eyes widened fractionally, a motion Tails would never have noticed if he hadn't been locked in this gloom with the man for a week or more. "You really mean it. You just don't see things the way I do." Tails shook his head. "Look, I know that you're young. And whatever it is you see every night that makes you kick me awake, I'm fairly sure that gunfire was part of it. But when those walls go down it really will be them or us, and when the bolts are flying there's no time to make sure everyone on the other side is guilty. Or that all of your own are innocent," he added musingly, looking through Tails's ear at something only he could see. His words came almost as an afterthought.
But ironically his argument had given Tails a leg to stand on himself and with a little effort he could turn it into rhetorical tails to fly with. "Then you make time," he said with a little more assurance – and volume – than he'd meant to. He swatted his forehead as he realized he'd raised his voice but drove ahead anyway to make it sound a little less suspicious. "If you have to kill then you went wrong somewhere along the line. There's always room to be a little faster, smarter, more accurate, whatever you need to be." I'm usually none of the above, but hey, look at Sonic. Only time he ever killed someone is when I shot him at her.
"Let me guess, your brother the hedgehog taught you that bit, right?" Okay, now that they'd stopped hissing at each other Tails could definitely hear the tongue-lashing building up. "It might even be possible for him. I mean, if you can fly and toss things around with those tails of yours and look up to this guy, there's got to be something to it. But even still, you've been fighting the same warlord for six years now, you say?"
"Eggman's a friend, kind of," the fox said sullenly. I can't believe I'm grasping at that to prove a point, but it's close enough to true to keep me out from behind another trigger.
Wedge scowled and the fox shrank away from him. It was a terrifying sight on that bland, friendly face. "Have you asked all the people he uproots or imprisons or just plain blasts if they feel the same way? I don't kill because I enjoy it, believe me, but I enjoy seeing people I could have stopped rampage through genuine innocents even less. Think about that for a change, Tails."
"And the Imperials probably think the same about you," Tails protested. For some reason Wedge relaxed a little.
"I'm counting on it. If things ever get to a point where the people of the Empire think I'm nothing but a criminal then they're probably right. As it is, opinion's divided between the military and everyone else."
"And you wouldn't be either if you'd flown all your missions without killing people."
"Who'd have gone on to mow down a crowd of petitioners on the steps of the planetary capital, or board a luxury liner and shoot up people I might've known a decade ago, or any number of other things. Most of the stormtroopers are probably pleasant enough people, Tails, but we're still enemies. And Imperials have a track record only one notch above pirates when it comes to dealing with civilians that get in their way."
The fox worried at his argument like his feral cousins would a bone. "But they captured you, didn't they? To me that means the Empire's just proven it's stronger than you are."
The glare from earlier hadn't even been a warm-up, but Tails had no room left to cower this time. "Hardly." Wedge's voice was still passionless, but now it belonged to a war robot instead of a quiet young man. "Like I told you, they blasted us out of the sky with enough firepower to shred a lighter ship. They only sent a capture team after us after that, and one of two pilots got away from them anyway. Plus they outnumber us every time and at least match us for firepower on top of that, and their armor just ignores stun shots." He snorted. "Of course they're in a position of strength, and they still realize it's better to put an enemy down if he's still a threat. You need to see that, Tails, or you're going to get us both killed if we ever try to get out of here."
I...no, he's still wrong, he's got to be! But Tails didn't have an argument left, just the armor of his denial. After all, you felt the same about the Metarex, didn't you? That's why you sent Cosmo to die, so you could destroy them once and for all. No captures, no stun-guns or compromises. It didn't matter that they might not even have been sentient by the end, he'd still consigned an entire species to its death and only cared about the one part of it he'd known personally. And you wonder what you've been trying to tell yourself with all these nightmares, Tails. You've never been fast or strong or even smart enough to live up to Sonic's expectations of you. Or any other thinking being's if Wedge is anything to go by.
The little fox leaned heavily against the metal slab of their bed, shoulders shaking. Wedge leaned over behind him and started scratching behind his ears again. He'd gotten a lot more accurate in the last few days, Tails had to give him that. "Hey, don't sulk. I won't take any of it back, but there's something else to this whole thing, I can tell. Come on, talk to me."
"Said I could keep it all to myself," Tails muttered through crossed arms. His tails had wrapped tight around the other pilot though, holding him there until the fox could get himself under control, and Wedge gave no sign of pulling away. Given the way you tug he probably doesn't even know they're there.
"Unless it threatened the mission or your squadmates, I said. Sure, you're not under my command and Force known when we're getting out of here but I think this fits." The massaging hand tightened a little on the kit's scalp, flicking the three limp bangs back upright. "Tails?"
Tails had screwed his eyes shut, namesakes knotting together behind his cellmate. Half his mind screamed to tell his new friend, to clear things up and maybe even get a little help, but the other half reminded him that it was entirely his own fault and had to stay that way.
The second half was winning when the roof fell in.
Tails shook off the headache he'd gotten when a slab of rock bounced off his skull. It wasn't that bad, probably not much more than a pebble, and at least it had missed his ears. The same couldn't be said for the sound wave; he could feel the tinnitus shaking his whole body. Let's see...came from right above the bed. He sighed. Why am I the only electrician I know who actually wires up circuit breakers? It can't be cost-efficient to replace a whole room every time you get a power surge! At least it took care of the last microphone, although Wedge had taken a much heavier hit than he had so that didn't matter much. The fox knelt in the dust and started heaving debris off of the other pilot with all six limbs. He's halfway buried! "Come on, Wedge, people with as many hard landings as we've got can't lose to this little rock pile!"
Eventually the cairn dwindled away, leaving only an even more thoroughly dust-stained duo behind, and Tails rolled his friend face-up. He was breathing shallowly for now, but it was a healthy sort of shallow considering all the sand in the air. And this gives me an opportunity. Sorry, Wedge. The fox fished around in the dirt for the pistol, dangling it away from himself in the shield's light. "Let's see. Warden said that stunners don't use the gas cylinder at all, but that can't quite be true if...wait, no. It's a switch inside, something to do with the circuits. Need to get this silly thing open." The staccato stream of thoughts came as he turned the weapon delicately around, looking for the elusive access panel or molding seam or whatever else it had.
That's it! There was a little rectangular opening on the back of the grip. "Too small to be the seam for the entire gun though," he mumbled as his fingers worked. "Which means it's probably the gas, and the wiring should be right above it – which makes sense since that's where the dial was on the warden's model. Gotcha!" he cried as the little grey canister popped out at last. Holding it between thumb and forefinger he spun it around, letting the anemic light catch the two golden contacts and large depression at the top. Man, I wish I had my toolkit. Even the screwdriver would be nice right now. No matter what he was using, rewiring a live appliance by hand was usually scarier than it was worth. Only right now it's worth quite a lot, so stop fretting and get to work.
If he'd had the fingers of a feral fox he'd never have gotten them through the tiny opening. That said, a feral fox wouldn't have been millimeters away from electrocution either, so there were trade-offs. Let's see. I need to take the gas cylinder totally out of the equation here, which means I need to take these two wires here and just – got it? No way had he gotten it right on his first try. Still, without any ammunition there wasn't really anything bad that the gun could do to him unless he really had pulled it off, and even then the worst that could happen was that he and Wedge woke up together a few hours later. Which was pretty bad considering the guards had to be there any second after that cave-in, but nowhere close to lighting himself on fire.
And way better than lighting whoever's down the barrel on fire too. That's what really matters.
On the off chance he'd done things right they could quite possibly have a way out of the cell, though, and Tails leveled the pistol in both furry hands. As small as he was he could fit two fingers from each hand under the trigger guard, but none of them seemed interested in slamming the little sliver of metal home. Come on, you silly fox, it's just a piece of metal! But even the one shield generator he could still see over the rocks wore Cosmo's face now, grey metal shimmering into overlapping green petals. Just from looking at it he could feel the roselike softness under the protective waxy coating, the touch he'd only just gotten used to before he destroyed the one person it belonged to.
And that means this isn't her, idiot! The illusion faded as he finally jerked the trigger back, squeezing off a rod of blue energy that hammered right through the shield and set the generator sparking. Another shot followed it, then a third, and the dancing blue and purple current erupted into choking black smoke. Chaos, I hate electrical fires. That smell is awful! His nose was already shriveled up in anticipation.
Right on cue heavy plastic boots thundered across the rock outside even as something massive set the whole tunnel shaking. "No good, the emergency elevator's blocked off. We need to take the prisoners overland."
"What about our reinforcements? We can't control this many special prisoners with what we've got down here!" either a second trooper or the man's split personality spat back. "Besides, those're the Rogues outside, got to be. They'd nail the landspeeders before we were even out of the blasted caves."
Definitely at least two troopers judging by the overlapping impacts of plastic on plastic. "You want to tell the warden that? Because I'm not going to – what?"
There was a moment of hushed silence that set Tails's fur crawling. He twirled the pistol in his tail and surreptitiously tucked it underneath himself. "Stand down from riot condition," one of the soldiers said. Great, probably more than just two then if they're giving orders. "We have max-sec prisoners loose. Stun shots only or Command will flay us alive." Considering what I've seen of the Empire he just might mean that literally.
"How'd the Rogues plan this? This is the cell with that Antilles man in it, right?" somehow the voice came across as young and breathless even through the helmet.
Another plastic thud. "They didn't. That shield only popped because the roof hit it on the way down. Rogues wouldn't kill one of their own." Tails's ears picked up a mutter he doubted was meant for anyone else. "They're too good for that."
If Tails was going to get out of here, preferably with Wedge and anyone else who wanted to come, he needed more information than these people were giving him. And that meant it was time to take a calculated risk. "Um, hello? Guards? I'm still here." All right, so it was more of a wild and desperate risk. The fox pushed himself as close to upright as the tilted rocks above him would allow. "Wedge got hit when the rocks came down and I didn't want to leave him. The shield only went down a few seconds ago. What's going on?" Funny. I didn't make up a single word of that.
Four long black muzzles snaked through the debris to cover him while the flashlights under them ripped at his much-abused eyes. "Rebel attack and a riot in the outer areas. We're taking the prisoners in this block to our assault walker division for safekeeping. Grab your cellmate and move."
Tails eased himself out of the rubble, palms outspread and a cheesy smile on his face. "Sure, sure. Give me a minute here..." He felt the silence as much as he heard it. They can't have seen the pistol yet, can they? He had his answer as he started turning around. No, not the pistol. Not the pistol at all. Blast it.
The Tibanna gas cylinder lay out on the open floor where he'd left it, dully glinting in the portable lights. Tails whipped his head back around to the squad, tails cracking out into a wider stance as he willed his cramped muscles back to life. No time to go for the blaster anyway even if it would work. Even if I thought I could use it. Probably easier like this anyway. The thoughts whipped through his skull in an instant, then he dropped onto one arm and catapulted himself through the debris at the surprised stormtroopers.
It had been so long since Tails's last real flight – in fact, this still didn't count – but he'd never forgotten the syrupy sensations of adrenaline. From what he'd gathered Sonic got the same thing, which probably explained a lot about his big brother's achievements. The whole world slowed down around him even as he swam through it only a little faster than the rest. He wasn't really moving any quicker, not really, not the way Sonic could, but his body was giving him all the time he needed not to crash into everything around him.
Or in this case, to only crash into the things that really deserved it. His tails lashed out as he hurtled forward, floating through the air at the two furthest rifles even as he grabbed for the two right in his face. For all the fury of his attack, though, he was still somewhere under twenty-five kilograms on a good day and most of that was fur, and he'd stretched himself too far going for everyone at once. A single blaster carbine tore away in his left tail as he looped it behind the grip and yanked, but the others were barely knocked aside.
And one of them hadn't even gotten that far. Something far, far beyond scalding plowed along the kit's back and he screamed as he felt the fur scorch, but it was still a near miss. So were the next two, although considering the ice-burn of frigid air across the fresh scar he probably wouldn't have noticed.
His ears were reporting a different kind of chaos, one of confused squawks and indignant protests, but Tails didn't have enough focus to spare for any of it. He flipped himself around as best he could, yelping as the blaster burn twisted and tore even wider, and hammered his feet against the knees of the man who'd shot him. With all four free limbs to support him his small frame was still enough to flatten the poor soldier, who shrieked loudly enough to get through the confusion as his kneecaps stopped resisting.
At least with that attack Tails had broken their line, and as the other two armed soldiers tried to catch up he rocked to his feet – grinding the new-made char of his back into ever finer scabs – and ducked around behind them. Well, as close to behind as they would let him get; they were wary now, backs to the cell or the wall as the one dove for his weapon and the other two tried to get another shot off. The soldier on the ground pitched and moaned, screams breaking off into sobs, and the fox wanted to just roll over and surrender so they could all go get his legs fixed together.
Focus! You can reassemble them once they've stopped trying to take you apart! He was still low to the ground, a small stiff target that was clearly giving the troopers fits, and even though it couldn't be another knockout he slapped the outside rifle away with both tails. If nothing else his nerves were damming up the burn signals; he couldn't feel anything more detailed than a general screaming pain now. What an improvement.
The movement must have jostled the trooper's finger, because the blue flare of a stun bolt lanced directly from one gun to the next. Tails had maybe an eighth of a second to react after the stricken rifle sparked, and even with his adrenaline-fired reflexes he couldn't physically get out of the way before the explosion. The small blast wave plastered his burned hide against the far wall as snaggletoothed shrapnel tried to cage him there, and only through a small miracle did he peel himself off with only five or six minor cuts to the insides of his calves. The cavern hadn't been so lucky; he could still hear a fresh rain of boulders clattering to a rest just down the hall. Mercifully it wasn't blocking the exit, not yet.
Then he looked up to see the two concussed troopers trying to throw away the second rifle, and only after that did he pick out the metal lance buried in the stock. No fair.
The second blast dealt with the other two soldiers, but this time Tails was left with three or four new splinters trying to find paths to his lungs and his back so badly split he wouldn't be entirely surprised if he could touch his own spine. And there was still one soldier climbing to his feet, one man still with a gun, and although he was obviously dazed he was still more mobile than the savaged kit. The fox watched through a brownish haze as the final rifle swam towards him almost leisurely, feeling his beloved speed bleed away into the rocks of Kessel. The barrel came to a rest directly above his muzzle and he wondered what the faceless man was feeling about him, the mutant who'd just crippled his friend. As a final blue flash ripped his sight away Tails felt the trooper fall onto his legs spasming, and behind him was Wedge Antilles with the holdout blaster steaming in his hand.
Tails twitched his way back into wakefulness. Whatever rest he'd gotten had been fitful, with sounds and sensations – mainly pain – filtering through constantly without ever quite waking him up entirely. The closest he'd come had been a weird icy slime across his back. Now that he actually was awake he quickly realized why he'd had a problem with that. How could my back feel anything? Those grooves in it have to be burned clean through! But no, the entire admittedly insignificant width of his back was feeding him feelings again, and even if they all set his stomach churning with the crackling and twisting and breaking when his charred skin slid they shouldn't have been there in the first place and that was much more important. Plus, that liquid and the odd sense that he had fresh fur already had him curious. No, not fur. Bandages, maybe? Regardless, he could smell char and burnt flesh, neither of which he'd ever wanted to associate with again.
Against his better judgment the fox rolled up on his side, feeling gravel snag between his belly fur and the loose cloth across his chest as he moved. Yep, definitely bandages. I hope they got that trooper's legs set first though, poor guy really needs it. The scars flanking his spine complained but he resolved to ignore them. After all there was no avoiding the pain at this point, and besides whatever that icy cream he could feel smeared over him was probably the best medical care he could expect. With a final aching twist he sat fully upright, blinking away the darkness as he tried to make sense of his situation.
And someone grabbed him by his right shoulder and promptly pressed him back into the dirt. "Stay down until you're ready to move," Wedge hissed from somewhere above him. I was! Tails wanted to complain, but since it felt like there was still plasma in his fur he had to agree with the man after all. Wedge reached down into his boot with the hand he'd just used to flatten the fox and tossed him the pistol, keeping a confiscated trooper rifle braced on a shield generator. "You've had fifteen minutes to rest, no more." And that explains why I don't feel like I've slept. I didn't.
As Tails looked around and took all that in he started to realize exactly where they'd ended up. More or less. That's probably one of those side corridors I got marched past, like where the poor Talz jumped us. If it's the same one then we don't have far to go, just a straight line past that sonic shower or whatever it was and we're at the hangar.
"I'm ready to move," he said breathlessly after another minute. "Why aren't we going? Those troopers said Rogue Squadron was here and I bet they're wai –" Wedge jabbed sharply at the ground and the fox caught his shut-up gesture instinctively. Keeping his ears ducked – not something he actually had to worry about after his ordeal but still worth keeping conscious track of – Tails edged out past his friend's ankles to see what was going on. Nothing? "Wedge, what's wrong?" he whispered as if he was hiding from the microphones again. In fact, that was entirely possible, but something else clearly had the pilot's guard up.
And as he started focusing properly he realized he didn't need things explained to him. Gunfire down the corridor. Can't see the flashes so I've got no idea where it's coming from. The high sharp notes echoed and overlapped, making it impossible for even Tails's big ears to pin them down. Bet Knuckles would know exactly what was up. Of course, Knuckles would've just bowled those first four guys over and moved on so it wouldn't have been a problem. It wasn't that great of a hop from the hulking red echidna to Sonic, and it was even easier to get from there to homesickness. "Wedge," he panted again, "can we get moving?"
And again he was hushed, but at least this time the pilot gave him an explanation. "Not in this direction, not yet. Troopers everywhere, and some of the prisoners got blasters."
Tails frowned at him. "Isn't that a good thing?" Again the hushing gesture. I'm not even making noise! Come on, Wedge. At least he knew better than to moan that complaint aloud no matter how tempting it seemed. "They're on our side too, right?"
"Tails, turn around," Wedge instructed him. Tails cocked his head and ears quizzically, but obeyed. His eyes shot open and he promptly vomited a thin stream between his hands into the dust. I thought the burning smell was my back. Not...
Five corpses lay draped across a barricade of overturned tables and gurneys. At least, it looked like five, but considering the circumstances it could easily be more. One in particular was chest-up with his head thrown horribly back, staring just past the fox through the other door to the room. And as he looked at it, transfixed, he thought he recognized it. "That's him, isn't it?" His voice was hushed for a whole host of reasons now, but stealth was no longer among them. "The...the doctor who took me in for those tests." If it weren't for the face Tails wouldn't even have been able to tell the victim was a man, because whatever clothes he'd worn had been fused with his ribcage under sustained blaster fire. "Who did this?" His hands cramped up and he took a few deep breaths, managing to steady neither his nerves nor his stomach but at least easing the pressure in his fists.
"I don't agree with the Empire on most things," Wedge muttered a little louder than usual. Tails had always thought Wedge's voice usually sounded cold. Now, as he stood there shivering, he realized how wrong he'd been. "Pirates are one of the exceptions."
Tails's voice was as calm and level as Wedge's but the way his hands and feet and tails jittered gave him the lie. "People do this to each other here? These guys didn't –" Wedge rounded on him while keeping the rifle braced and Tails shrank back.
"No, they didn't deserve it. But they had things the other runaways wanted." He tossed his head at the other opening, which was even worse-lit than the one he was guarding. "Cover, medical supplies, and I think maybe a way out."
If there'd been any substance to those ration packs Tails would probably have lost it then. Even with nothing left there was still a deep ache as his stomach tried to heave again and again. And a much deeper one as he tried to process that the enthusiastic young medic who'd recognized his hate for needles and handled him as gently as he could had been shredded like that for no better reason than bad timing. He didn't bother unclenching his fists this time, not even as the muscles in his hands began to ache. "Well, what are we waiting here for?" This time the fox didn't even bother trying to keep his voice down no matter how frantically Wedge gestured. "Wedge, tell me what's going on down here!" There was a whiny edge to his voice but at this point he was beyond caring.
The man ran his free hand through his hair. "All right, Tails, all right. The rioters must've blasted their way through the wall somehow. Actually, I think it came from the other side since the rubble's all in here. If it was a laser drill it wouldn't leave much debris either way. Anyway," he pressed on before Tails could sidetrack him with questions. "The warden moved in with what looked like a full twenty stormtroopers and choked off the tunnels. Some of us from the back room stuck together, but we scattered when they showed up."
"You left people behind? But if you lost other people, people who could actually fight...then why'd you save me?" Tail's voice was tiny, almost swallowed by the still cave air before it reached even his own ears.
"Because you aren't with Black Sun or Zann or the Hutts," Wedge explained with a long-suffering air. It sounds like he's heard this before, then. "I don't think even a dedicated Imperial spy could play their part quite as well as you have, Tails, let alone a raider. And because of that I knew you wouldn't do something like this." Tails closed his eyes, feeling the heat just behind his lids. Oh, Wedge, you have no idea how wrong you are. I'd like to think I wouldn't be this petty or savage about it, but I'm not sure how much credit I can give myself. "Look, I don't have to kill those people, especially not with the stormtroopers already on it. But I owe them nothing either. And besides," he added, "I'm more worried about the people down the other hole, down in the mine tunnels. But if it was a laser drill that opened this tunnel there'll be no way for us to escape down that end." Wedge shuddered a little, muttering rapidly under his breath.
Tails ignored the pilot's rapid-fire planning. "Drill," he repeated slowly instead. Anything to distract himself from the horror around and inside him. "Right, the mines. I know they intersect with the main tunnel back up where we were because the troopers dragged someone down them. But you're right, unless these guys are total idiots we'd just end up trapped by the guards an...what?" Wedge was looking at him with an odd expression. And then, slowly, he started to laugh.
"'Unless they're total idiots,' he said with a chuckle. "Well, Tails, we might just have a chance after all!"
Tails scurried through the passage downrange of Wedge on all fours, namesakes dragging through the dirt and eviscerated holdout gun clamped between his teeth. I'm probably going to regret this, and he didn't just mean the dental bill. Even with the Tibanna canister tucked safely into his tail fluff so smoothly he could barely keep track of it, he was still charging an unknown but large number of the same people who'd set his back on fire earlier essentially unarmed. Wedge's covering fire wouldn't amount to much either, and of course if things went according to plan he wouldn't shoot at all. They needed the stormtroopers chasing Tails down the wrong corridor, and if that was going to happen his teammate had to stay unseen. They'd argued over who got decoy duty, of course, but in the end the fox's small size and superior speed had won out. Assuming I've still got that speed with my back all messed up.
Stop complaining, Tails. You volunteered, didn't you? Besides, this is what Sonic taught you to do best. You're not about to let him down again, right? There were times when he wondered how crazy it was to want to snarl at his own conscience. There are times for those thoughts. This isn't one of them. You're about to run right into –
And then there he was. The cavern had been growing marginally better-lit as he approached, mostly by strobing red and white lights and the off-blue radiance of whatever shields had held out this long. He was already about as low to the ground as he could be but he pressed himself down a little further, a ribcage trained against the Emerald Hill Zone's local bullies barely registering the protruding rocks. Ears tucked back he edged his head around the corner and finally got a good look at what had left Wedge running scared.
Definitely more than twenty, he thought almost calmly even as his heart pumped faster than the Tornado's engine. Warden's scarier though. The man still didn't have a helmet on for whatever reason – even if he didn't think he needed one against the prisoners, surely the cave-ins should have convinced him! Of course, judging from his demeanor he probably assumed he could take either and win handily. A sword that looked too cylindrical to be practical glowed yellow in his hand – maybe it's a shock prod? That'd explain it – while a weapon somewhere between a carbine and pistol waited at his hip. An already familiar smell wafted down the passageway. Tails wrinkled his nose as tight as his tired muscles could make it go, gagging as the stench of burning flesh washed over him once again. All right, I need to get their attention and then try not to get myself killed too badly. Easy, right? Sonic's done it loads of times.
Of course, you're not Sonic, are you, Tails? He stamped down on that thought – bruising his toes against the rough ground in the process – before it could take root. No time for that. His hindquarters lifted off the ground, wriggling a little as he nerved himself up. Let's see. Got to be at the right time – maybe when they're distracted so I get my chance to run? It had worked well enough in Emerald Hill, of course, although he rather doubted that the soldiers were quite foolish enough to fall for a tossed rock or something no matter what Wedge had said.
And while he huddled in that corner waiting to pounce, Tails saw something that changed the plan completely.
A little down the hallway he could see the first cell in the block, its shield still shimmering through the gloom. The warden stowed his sword, the yellow glow-rods set in a plus formation around the black cylinder dimming. In its place he drew his blaster, and without even bothering to bring it up and aim he simply locked back the trigger and sent a storm of red bolts straight into the barrier. Tails could hear the screams, attenuated but not at all blocked by the still-intact shield, and suddenly all rational thought of evasion and maneuver went straight out of the airlock. He spat out the blaster shortly before he would have bitten through it and snatched it up as he hurled himself through the hallway directly at the Imperial officer.
The stormtroopers snapped their rifles up, but even in the much broader tunnels out here there was still such a thing as overkill and most of them had no way to even aim at the fox. Those who could held back, though, since Tails's enraged charge had carried him all the way to their commander. A leaping double-pawed kick sent his heavy blaster skittering against the shield, leaving it sparking unhealthily. With a snarl the grey-haired old man snatched the sword back out, only to find it wrapped tightly in a tail. The fox knew he was a hair away from wresting control of the weapon away from the warden when a high whine filled the air. His ears flattened reflexively, but whatever pain the sound was causing was utterly insignificant compared to what the sword had just done to him.
His tail uncoiled and withdrew, not that it had much choice, and he felt the cold stickiness of his blood somewhere he'd rarely had to before. For almost its entire length his precious tail had been skinned down well into the muscle, and unlike the blaster bolts this sword wasn't polite enough to cauterize the would. For a stunned second Tails just stood there staring at his crippled namesake as his own blaster clattered to the floor, then the other tail came up by reflex to hold the man's arm at bay before his swing could take the kit's head off too. It wasn't entirely successful, not when shock had left him powerless, but the frantic move at least bought him enough time to scramble back down on all fours and try to break off down the hallway with little more than a nick across the scalp.
Of course, that brought its own problems with it. For one thing, the soldiers now had a mostly clear shot at him, and for another the warden's reach was still substantially longer than Tails was even before factoring in that obscene sword. But one problem could sometimes solve another, and as the soldiers fired intermittent bolts in the fox's general direction their leader ducked back out of their way to salvage his own gun. With the injuries he'd taken he didn't know if he could outrun the soldiers after all, and with his blaster gone he couldn't even try to knock a few of them out or damage their weapons like before.
Gritting his teeth, the badly beaten fox took off at the closest thing to a sprint he could manage, going back on all fours and keeping his mauled tail held stiffly aloft. Between the white fur and the weeping fluids it would stand out like a neon "shoot me" sign in the troopers' flashlights, but he was moving quickly enough even with his back crumbling into dust around him that they'd have a little trouble with that. More to the point he was moving so erratically that even saturation fire wasn't quite doing it. The cave was wide enough and he was so tiny within it that the limited front line couldn't hit every spot he might dodge into, and through a minor miracle he started to open the gap.
More shields started to show up alongside him, their prisoners watching with anticipation at the unexpected show as Tails charged along, his entire body waving as again and again he kicked off the ground with each pair of limbs just like his feral ancestors. Not even the harsh ground was going to slow him down here!
Not until it exploded centimeters from his face. A blaster bolt finally went high instead of low and shards of half-melted rock clawed furrows in his cheek, mercifully scalding them closed again as they passed. At least it'll go with my back and tail, he thought hazily as he pitched forward and landed hard on the point of his chin. His skull sang with the impact, but unlike before the ringing and the flashing lights faded quickly to let him hear a single pair of boots clattering closer. Not like this. Barely conscious though he was, Tails's nerves had run out of space to pump in pain signals and his brain was whirring away at full speed. Not here!
He had no idea why it was he chose that precise moment to lash out. It wasn't as if he could see the warden while lying face-down in the dirt, after all. But his healthy tail slammed across the tunnel at flying speed to hit something metallic out of his killer's hand. The weapon was surprisingly hot to the touch even before it sent a bolt of energy sparking somewhere he couldn't see. And with that the exhausted kit had one surprise left to share. He kicked off the ground as hard as he could, lunging as high as his damaged body was willing to accept, and started spinning his tails together. The flayed one burned, he screamed, but he couldn't stop flying now. Too much was riding on his success – if the soldiers thought to check back on Wedge, or even keep executing prisoners, when he could have led them off by just pushing himself a little harder, it would hurt far more than a filleted tail or a blaster bolt to the spine. He heard filtered gasps and yells behind him but no blaster fire, and finally he took the opportunity to look back. The entire force, warden included, was charging forward as fast as they could, weapons forgotten in their haste. And then Tails's eyes widened and were promptly overloaded as the officer's battered pistol finally broke. An eruption of white light filled the room and close on its heels the thunderclap knocked everyone to the ground.
The fox scrabbled to his feet despite slipping a few times as the rock shuddered and broke beneath him, and his own trembling didn't help matters. Way too much like lightning for my liking. He slipped and slithered across the ground time after time, his bloody, weeping tail hurting so much that he could barely feel his legs. Blind with the darkness and pain, Tails groped around for it until he finally managed to grab the undamaged fur at the tip of the tail and tossed the whole limb up over his shoulder. It lay there limply and he had to resist the urge to whisper to it like a frightened pet.
He had finally managed to get himself upright again when another thunderclap came, this one jolting its way through the ceiling. He didn't even bother looking back this time. I can't help them out of a cave-in now. I'm just not strong enough. Wherever the boulders landed they'd be sure to dam up the tunnel, leaving him stuck with just one passage left open to him, and if he was really unlucky they'd even force the soldiers to double back right to where Wedge was running. No, he's got to get away. I might have been an idiot and messed everything up for him, but I can't let him get caught too!
But no, there was nothing left to do. The situation had completely left the kit's hands now, and with a sob that wracked his whole body he sat down and simply watched the falling rocks block the soldiers from view. Maybe they're trapped in there, like between two different fracture points or something. Then they could get out in a little while if they dig or shoot the rocks. But the prisoners in those cells will be stuck in there with them, and the warden was killing everybody. I don't care what they did to the medic, no one deserves what I just caused.
His eyes burned, a sensation he'd grown far too familiar with for his big brother's tastes, and after watching helplessly a few minutes more the defeated little fox stood up and trudged down the hallway. His shoulders shook, his breath came hard, but worst of all was the sad green figure that danced just ahead of his closed eyes. Tails, why do you keep failing? It wasn't Cosmo's voice, it wasn't his voice, it wasn't any voice, it was just the product of his own nightmares.
But he listened anyway. Why do you keep making things worse for everyone? I thought you wanted to be a helpful person.
I do, he tried to protest, but his brain wouldn't let him silence himself so easily. No, that wasn't true. It was the thought of Cosmo rebuking him he couldn't stop. He could see her face so clearly, lit like they were back on the Blue Typhoon instead of buried in some freezing tunnel under Kessel. I thought I was trying! That thought he could hear, in the high whining tones he used whenever Sonic or Eggman beat him in some argument.
You were. Cosmo's expression softened for a moment, but his hopes fell with her face. But you don't succeed. You killed all of those men and women back there just like you killed me, and what did it earn you besides a slow death of your own?
"No," he muttered as he sagged to the ground, energy drained at last. "No, I'm not going to..." His mouth didn't even fully close before he fell asleep again, but Cosmo refused to leave. Alone in his mind Tails just stared into her mournful eyes and waited for something to change.
Because Chaos knows I can't change things myself.
