22. Plots Discovered, Plots Made
Jet the Hawk paced back and forth in his cabin aboard the Babylon airship. He'd dispatched Storm to raid the base of that Doctor Eggman as punishment for losing his heat of the race, but the grey hulk hadn't returned yet and Wave was certain that something had gone wrong. Jet maintained that Storm might have gotten lost (again), but couldn't possibly have been caught by the human or his robots. The albatross was, admittedly, massive in inverse proportion to his brain-power, but he was still an accomplished thief or he'd not have been a Babylon Rogue. He was definitely overdue, though. "He probably went to the wrong place," muttered the hawk. "Probably searching egg-cartons in the dairy section of a grocery store." He turned so sharply that his tail feathers scraped across the wooden wall.
"Then again, I did tell him to bring something back - or not return at all." Hearing footsteps in the hall, he jumped into his chair and snatched up some papers. It wasn't Storm's heavy pounding, and Jet didn't want Wave knowing he was wor– wondering. The swallow rapped once, businesslike, then called through the door, "We're here Jet. The Sand Ruin Coliseum is right below us."
The hawk hastily cleared his throat and called back. "Move us off to wherever the parking is and land. Are the boards ready?"
"Ours are, of course. Storm's got his with him, but as long as he shows up by tomorrow morning, we're set. The race isn't until 2:30 in the afternoon." He heard her moving away again and got back out of his chair. This time he moved to stare moodily out the window - not one of the traditional round 'port-holes', of which the cabin had two, but the six-foot-wide picture window across the stern. He spotted Eggman's plane near a building he didn't remember, and wondered if the human had any idea how well the Rogues knew this area. Somewhere around here was where the fabled Babylon Island had crashed. Babylon Rogues down through his father's era and other descendants of the Island's original inhabitants had combed and recombed these sands, searching for the legendary treasure, or simply some clue as to the whereabouts of the fallen isle. Most of the ruins were of a different civilization, sometimes called the fifth - or was it fourth? Sixth? Did it matter? - that had been rival and prey for the original Rogues. Sometimes trading partners; sometimes enemies. At any rate, the technology down there was seriously advanced, if the ruins of it were any indication. But technology was Wave's sideline. It could be useful sometimes, like the hoverboards, but the real money was in treasure - and these ruins were long since picked clean. The airship moved on, circled over the crowd already gathering around a sort of carnival set up near the parking lot, then over the lot itself, only half filled today. Slightly beyond that, the ship began to sink, gliding over a ring of security robots and settling into place in the competitor's section. Jet had to smirk at the robots; he'd evaded plenty of them in the past. Guard robos simply weren't a match for a clever thief. Of course, most thieves weren't as clever as the Rogues, and Jet was definitely proud of that. Even without Wave, they'd been successful, although (he generously conceded) her technological tricks had made the group even more profitable. If only she didn't nag so! The ship landed with the faintest of bumps, and he left the cabin, eager to stretch his legs and explore a bit. And if a few valuables happened to migrate from the spectators' pockets into his? Well, they should be honored to have encountered such a famous person.
The next noon, Jet and Wave were standing in the shade of a ruin after the track walkthrough and some practice runs, when they heard Storm calling to them. "Boss! Wave! Boss! Sorry to keep you waiting for me!" He pulled up too sharply and did a belly flop into the sand.
"How'd it go?" asked Jet, as the albatross shoved himself back up, spitting sand.
"Take a look at this, boss!" A tiny chip rested in the massive palm shoved toward the hawk.
Wave snatched it up, "Gimme!" She popped it into a reader and began mashing buttons. A holographic screen appeared with data spewing across it at high speed.
"What is it?" prodded Jet, after several minutes of listening to the swallow mumbling to herself.
She flashed him a triumphant look. "It's an entry in Eggman's diary. It's about the Babylon treasure from our ancient ancestors." She tapped a few more buttons and handed the unit to Jet.
"Hmm." He perused the first few lines of text; what sort of person wrote down his laughter? Annoyed by the other two leaning over him, he began to read aloud. "Hahahaha! I got those birdbrains to believe that the Babylon treasure was just a gem. I can't believe they fell for it! What fools!
"Can you believe the REAL treasure is the ancient, but advanced technology of the Babylonians? What irony! I've found a story about a boy who received an Angel Wing from the Babylonians as a gift. The story says that with it, the boy was able to rule the world. And this was just a gift! I'm anxious to find this technology as soon as possible. Imagine the vast possibilities of the technology they must have kept for themselves. Hehehehehe!" He blinked at the screen as the meaning of the words sunk in.
Storm beat him to it. "Aw, man, I guess it's not a gem after all . . . ."
"Hmm," Jet agreed. He scanned a bit further reading the Doctor's speculations on the presumed technology and planned use thereof, then picked up his board. "Oh well, I guess this was just a wasted effort. Too bad really; I haven't the slightest interest in world domination or advanced technology." At least he'd get the chance to beat that hedgehog; he'd wait to break with the human until after he'd rematched Sonic the Supposedly Speedy. But right now it was time for a cool drink and a cool bath prior to the race.
"Hey, wait a second, okay Jet?" Wave sounded both subdued and oddly worried. Puzzled, he looked back at her. "While Eggman may not look smart, he is; he has an IQ of 300 after all," she said diffidently. "If he's interested in this technology it must have value."
Jet was pleased by both her altered demeanor (although she was probably doing it on purpose to manipulate him) and what she was saying. "Are you saying there's profit in this?" Perhaps he'd better not break with Eggman as soon as the race ended after all.
"Think about it; it may be more valuable than finding gold or silver!"
She had a point, he reflected, thinking of some of the prices on technological goodies he'd seen or stolen. Not to mention the prices for rare archaeological artifacts - ancient technology must be doubly valuable, certainly? "Ah . . . ." His mind filled with the piles of gold and silver the Rogues might net by selling it to the highest bidder. He could hear the soft clinking as more coins rained around him, savor the taste of the precious metals in the air; dimly seen beings poured more coins and the odd emerald or diamond out of bottomless sacks overhead. He scooped up handfuls of coins and delighted in the cool metal as they spilled between his fingers.
His daydream was shattered by a shrill alarm beep. He glared at Wave; she'd pulled that trick before. He had the odd impression that something had slipped behind a ruined pillar, but dismissed it. No one was around but his fellow Rogues. "Why'd you do that? I was just having this great daydream."
She silenced the alarm. "Come on Jet, it's time to go back to the race."
"Alright, let's finish this; then we'll finally get the treasure of Babylon!" Even if we have to sell it to get its worth. The three Rogues headed for the Coliseum, where waves of noise could already be heard as the crowds settled into their seats and vendors hawked and sold their wares. A snickering Nightmaren peered over the top of a nearby wall, then drifted in the opposite direction, clinking metallically.
Storm bulled his way through the crowds to the contestant entry with Jet and Wave pressing close in his wake. The security bots allowed them through the barricades and into the coliseum. The noises of the crowd echoed deafeningly along the tunnel leading to the central arena. Omochao's voice, accented by the occasional loudspeaker squeal, added to the din. "Now, our race has reached its final stage. The remaining competitors are pacing, anxious for the race to begin. Only a few minutes left. Who will win this big event?" The three birds stepped into blindingly bright sunlight, buffeted by the almost physical waves of sound and showered with bits and streamers of confetti.
I could get to enjoy this sort of life, thought Jet, as he raised a hand over his head and was rewarded by a chorus of shrieks and shouts. Fair amount of profit in stardom too, as I understand it. He flicked his fingers through his crest (eliciting another round of squeals) and spotted the other three competitors. The pink hedgehog that had helped the little fox come in second was there as well. "Sonic! Congratulations! I'll be over here, cheering you on!" she cried and slipped away as the Rogues walked over. The blue hedgehog gave a rather distracted nod and led his team up the steps to where Doctor Eggman himself waited, pretending to be an honest merchant. (Or whatever. Jet didn't really care what the conniving human pretended to be, as long as Jet got what he wanted at the end of all this.) The Doctor's beaming face also loomed over the coliseum, projected on a massive monitor for all to see.
"And now, it's time for the final event!" he bellowed into his microphone. "And it's set here... in Sand Ruins! The rules are still the same; anything goes in this extreme race! Although it needs no further explanation, the first one to reach the goal will win this race!" Jet rolled his eyes. But then, some people were incredibly stupid, a fact the Rogues made good use of in their plans. Maybe some of the watchers didn't know that the way to win a race was to come in first. The screen cut to a closeup of the prize table: five Chaos Emeralds gleaming on a cloth, each balanced neatly on its point. The inherent glow of the gems was invisible under the brilliant desert sun. Wave plucked at Jet's arm, shouting something about the moon, but he couldn't really hear her over the crowd and ignored her. "But remember," Eggman called, "the prize will be won by the racer who's performed the best throughout this competition! Ah, that's it: the winner of this race won't necessarily win the prize. Wait. Everyone here's got at least a first or second - so if a second-place wins and a first place is second– Jet shoved the thought out of mind. He intended to win the race and have the prize, and that was all that mattered. The jack-in-the-ball robot was signaling him urgently from off camera. Wave gave him a discreet shove and he realized that Sonic had pulled out his Chaos Emerald and stepped to the table. Hastily Jet did the same.
"Hah, you're lucky you got this far," sneered Jet. "It obviously wasn't due to your 'skills'." Actually the hedgehog had done better than expected, but if he could rattle his opponent before the race started, all the better.
But the other didn't seem perturbed. "Heh, I won't lose now," countered the hedgehog. The two placed their respective gems on the table in unison. Jet fancied he could feel power surge around them like wind currents ahead of a storm.
"Hohoho!" crowed the Doctor, "Get ready; it's time for the final race to begin!" The six final contestants took their places at the starting line, three and three. Jet darted a glance at Wave and saw her confirmatory nod. The plan was set. He didn't expect to have any trouble winning, but he always liked to have a backup plan in place. He powered up his board and spun it on its tail, then let it drop into a horizontal position. That wasn't mere showing off; Wave had modified all three boards after Sonic the groundhog's initial interference, so that the boards would shut themselves off if not handled 'correctly'. No more busybodies chasing the Babylon Rogues on their own boards - the board would simply go dead. Jet had wanted her to make them explode, but Wave pointed out that Storm would probably forget several times - which he had thrice already - and besides, the police were far more aggressive in chasing murderers than thieves. Even as he thought that, she was having to remind the albatross to thump his own board on the ground twice. 'Knocking the dust out' he called it, and Wave had suppressed her own irritation at the long-term habit (which tended to damage the air thrusters, and cause her to have to replace them) in hopes that it could be an activation 'code' he could remember. I hadn't worked. On the other side of Jet, the blue hedgehog was resting one foot on his board, idly rocking it backwards and forwards. Beyond him the echidna stood stolid as a mountain, while the fox cub looked both terrified and determined.
"On your marks!" roared the Doctor, and the crowd roared back. The starting light clicked on, a green beam stretched across the track. Jet grinned and leaned forward, forgetting the other competitors. The race was about how much speed he could coax from his board, through balance and forethought and skill. He was neither gryphon nor griff, to have wings to fly with, but he had the instincts and knew how to manipulate the least air current to gain speed or height for his board. There! The light was beginning its sweep . . . back . . . back . . . now! The green dokan started his run, predator's gaze tightly focused on the moving light. His far-distant ancestors had been able to dive on a running rabbit from incredible heights, and he'd honed that instinctive sense of timing to a nearly infallible precision. The ancient strike was a leap, his talons digging into the soles of his boots as he landed on the board, rocketing across the start in unison with the timing beam, so close to early that the penalty jolt crackled static through his feathers as it shut off. Involuntarily he shrieked a hunting cry, only dimly aware of the other racers echoing his challenge. This was life!
The boards raced out of the coliseum across the sun-heated sands, Jet leading, Storm trailing, the rest in a cluster between the two. No one was striking at opponents yet; everyone more interested in gauging the track and learning what challenges and dangers it would throw at them. The first such revealed themselves now: ancient pylons linked to not-so-ancient machinery that detected the approaching boards and thrust the pillars skywards like stone spears. Jet heard the rumbling below ground and was dodging before the tip broke the sand - left, right, left, he wove between the rising ruins. A ramp ahead, leading over a gorge and aimed at a narrow ledge, where the sand cascaded down into the pit below. Jet spun his board six, seven times in midair, somersaulting to a landing 'upstream' of the sandfall, pushing the gear on across the current. He lost some speed to the necessity of keeping the nose of the board tipped against the sliding sand, but vaulted to the grind rail where he could quickly recover it. There were shouts behind him, but he didn't look back. Looking back was a fatal error, and not one the Wind Rider would ever make.