MORE THAN THERE SEEMS

A Sonic SatAM story by:

Tristan Palmgren

MistressAli

Ealain Vangogh

J.R. Grant

Dominic Smith

Roland "Jim Doe" Lowery

Post 61:

MistressAli

The hovercraft's engines roared and Snively leaned onto the dashboard, gazing out over the drilling site one last time before lifting off the forest floor, sending leaves and dirt billowing in a cloud underneath him. There was more hesitation before he finally sent the small ship hurtling over the evergreens and oaks, speeding away from the precious oil and towards the thief of their patrol ship.

His trust was a fragile thing, and he was putting it into Sprocket's hands for safekeeping. This was very... frightening.

And very foolhardy. He knew he should've gone with his initial idea; having a Spy Eye tail the canine to make sure he stayed true to his word.

But he hadn't.

'Faith' (he still scoffed at the word) had to start somewhere...

He sneered a little, then pushed Sprocket from his mind. Or tried to. It was time to focus on the task at hand.... finding the stolen patrol unit and in Robotnik's words, executing the thief, bringing the head to Robotnik personally. He smirked again, yeah; ole Fatty always had such a way with words. Yelling tired clich�s and threats. The only problem was, they weren't empty. He meant every threat he said.

He thought for a moment of adhering to Robotnik's exact words. Bringing the bloodied head of the filthy animal, tossing it right into Robotnik's lap. The fat asshole would certainly scream about that. A smile quirked his lips, then he shook his head. Nah. He'd just shoot the bastard and be done with it.

Then he could go home, finally. To his hard little mattress, his little black blanket, that stupid lumpy pillow. He was going to collapse on that bed and not move for at least 24 hours!

He was actually looking forward to pulling the trigger.

*

Focusing on the coordinates, the hovercraft moved speedily over the Forest. Snively yawned and rubbed his eyes, struggling to stay awake. He was tired, all of this taxing, from leaving Robotropolis, to the wayward freighter, Dragon's Nest, the revelation of Sprocket, and Robotnik, and well, Sprocket. But now, now they were friends again, yes. And through all this he had gathered only a few hours sleep at most.

He whined a little to himself, thinking about his shitty bed back home again, staring out the windshield.

His fingers drummed on the dashboard, the blanket of trees below blurring into a featureless green mass. The canine came again, unbidden, to his mind. He wondered how the boy was faring with his task. It was simple enough. Bring the oil and a prisoner back to the city. There shouldn't be any problems. But if there was, if that bumbling idiot failed...

Snively's head would be on the chopping block. But wait, no, Robotnik wouldn't drop the guillotine; that would be too quick, too merciful. And too permanent.

Though Snively feared for his life when the violence escalated to a fever pitch, bodily alarms screaming he was hurt hurt hurt damaged and dying?... He never thought Robotnik would go as far to kill him...

He gritted his teeth. If that silly tin can screwed up, he was going to scrap him.

Yeah, right. Snively didn't know if he could just...destroy Sprocket now. Not without difficulty.

He touched the laser pistol at his belt, fingers running over the smooth surface, thought of putting it to his former friend's head, right between those silken gold eyes. Just a little squeeze of his fingers, such little effort, and the boy would be dead. For good this time.

He had to turn his thoughts again; he was getting nauseous.

The blank communications monitor suddenly flickered to life with a rush of static and a roar of "SNIVELY!"

He was too weary to really startle much, so he fixed a half-closed eye on the monitor where Robotnik's fat face was wrinkled into a smile. Great. Fat Boy was happy. That was always a good thing. Until the inevitable crash into anger occurred.

"We're getting a signal on the city radar. Something has been flying in the radar's limits for quite a while now, Snively. I told you those filth weren't that smart."

"Indeed not." Snively managed a sneer.

"I expect you shall have no troubles tracking down that scum now, Snively!"

"No, sir, definitely not!" Snively nodded, patching into the city's radar channel, watching as the scrolling coordinates appeared on the monitor next to Robotnik's. He nodded again. "Yes, I'm not far from there. That dirty animal won't escape our wrath."

The fat man cackled. "Very good."

He cut the transmission and the monitor faded back to black.

*

Snively was getting quite near to the latest set of coordinates, his eyes scanning the horizon through the windshield. He should be seeing the patrol ship by now. He squinted.

Nothing.

There was a *beep* from the console, and a curse escaped his lips; the radar had lost the signal!

Apparently the animal had figured out they were flying at a dangerous altitude. Or maybe they had just crashed. He hoped. Certainly would make his job easier.

He snarled. No way this bastard was going to get away from him...

The hovercraft jumped forward in acceleration, hurtling towards that last set of coordinates, a spot of forest just as boring and featureless as the rest. There was nothing around to hit, unless the idiot had gone too low to the trees, and he couldn't see even an animal being that stupid.

He'd landed then, maybe.

He nodded and patted his pistol again, to assure its place still there on his hip, his heart beginning to quicken in pace.

The trees were parting ahead of him; a clearing, only a few minutes ahead now. There was the glint of polished smooth metal through the foliage.

The patrol ship.

The Mobian had landed, the fool!

'Well', he thought, one of Robotnik's clich�d threats coming to his mind.... The thief was going to pay for this mistake, surely. Pay for it with his life.

---------------------------------------------

Post 62:

Ealain Vangogh

No sooner had Sprocket's black-gloved hands gripped the steering wheel than a wonderful, blessed groan sounded from the navigation seat. Derek was awake.

For one blissful moment nothing mattered to the canine as much as the sleepy, disoriented smile on the koala's face as he revived. He pivoted in his seat and slammed the dashboard with relish. "Score!" he whispered, relieved. The children gathered eagerly around the elder Freedom Fighter like moths to a light, screeching questions, elbowing and shoving for most conspicuous and most important young prot�g� to their bashful, snow-furred hero. Sonic, of course, gained the spotlight with a spry leap to the arm of the chair and a wail, "You shoulda seen the blood, man! It was way uncool!" This derived a collective shudder from the boy's comrades, a scold from Sally, and another protracted whimper from Antoine, whose eye was still on the remnants of his coat, soaked with that same bodily fluid of which the hedgehog spoke

Derek wasn't really listening; his glare acquired swift sharpness when he spotted Nayr lurking over his head, brooding and fingering at his wound. "Sprocket . . ." he wheezed, nodding weakly at the intruder, wincing at the prodding. "I trust an explanation is well underway?"

"Most assuredly." The dog cracked his knuckles, rose, and ushered the children a breathable distance from the victim. "There's been a misunderstanding. Apparently you and Nayr are acquainted, and from past experience he got a little...ah..." H e glanced at Dulcy, sulking in the back of the craft, trying to mask her fear of the Sadosii with irritability. " ...uh, a little....suspicious...of your motives. He got a little aggressive . . ."

"I struck decisively and aggressively when I believed you intended harm to innocents," the charcoal-skinned newcomer boomed, severing all diplomatic terminologies, eyes ablaze. "If you expect an apology, it's not coming, but I do intend to correct my error by healing you. It shouldn't be too great an undertaking--the blood makes the wound seem far deeper than it is."

There was ill-concealed terror, and fury, on the koala's face. "Are you sure?" he hissed, ducking the Sadosii's fingers when Nayr attempted to remove Antoine's coat. His neckhairs were bristling. The children watched the anger mounting like boiling water between the two men, their eyes widening.

Sprocket lifted a peace-preserving palm. "Please. We don't have time to quarrel. I just discovered an approaching hovercraft on the radar, and I've good reason to believe the pilot is on a Take-No-Prisoners agenda." He gulped back anxiety strangling his throat.

Derek knew. He knew well, so vivid, no doubt, were his memories from the flight from Dragonsnest, from Sprocket's rare vulnerable words of confession, of the past. His voice was soft but steady. "Snively?"

The canine couldn't bear to meet eyes with the people he had brought to certain oblivion in an attempt to save. Silently, he nodded.

Derek tried to probe gently. "Sprocket....one of these days, you're going to have to--"

"I KNOW!" Snarled, shouted, causing them all to jump in shock--for these were the words Sprocket didn't want to hear--the things he knew he'd have to face. A choice of loyalty. Ultimate, irreversible, once it was finally made. A choice he could never make. Shame seized him; it was the first time he'd ever risen his voice against another Mobian. "I mean...I'm....sorry. I'm sorry. Let's head for Nimbus Is--"

An overwhelming shriek of alarms, the red flashing of the monitor's warning lights--someone was trying to open the hovercraft door. The canine darted to it, and motioned Nayr, whose every muscle was tense for attack, to shield the koala and children with his body. Derek, despite his weariness, was bolt upright in his seat, eyes twin saucers of horror. '"Shit," the koala moaned, jaw set, body braced.

"Here," Sonic retreated to the left of the cockpit and retrieved Derek's laser, which Dulcy had picked up after the struggle outside. "Here, use this." The koala looked at it as if it were dipped in anthrax. "Thanks," he croaked, staring dully at the child. The CHILD.

The door opened of its own accord, and there, crouched like a hungry mosquito in the entrance, stood Snively, armed with tiny glistening laser pistol. The children collected together in a huddle, the princess at the front, Dulcy squeezed into the back, her tail shielding what it could of their little bodies. Derek hid his pistol behind his back.

"You've been very bad little furries," Robotnik's Nephew purred at the youths, sliding into the cockpit. In his hand was a security decoding keypad, the tool of his intrusion, which he'd used to scramble the lock on the hovercraft door. His every feature was laden with smugness. "Let's not put up too much a struggle, shall we? If you behave, I'll just shoot you and be quick about it, and..."

His words puttered to a halt like a teakettle robbed of steam when he saw Sprocket. Dark suspicion was soon replaced with reluctant confidence in the canine. One trembling hand shoved in uniform pocket, the other still armed.

He was trying to keep his promise of trust.

Sprocket felt the blow to his heart more fiercely than any bullet could cause.

"I'm not sure what detracted you from delivering that oil to the city, Commander Apollo," strange how Snively suddenly became formal, distant, in front of their victims, "but it seems you've got it all under control. Sorry for stepping on your toes...." He paused, awaiting a confirmation, a brutal jerk of one of the children's arms or a slap across one of their cheeks, to assure the canine's loyalties. Sprocket only stood there wincing at him. As the angry grief of one betrayed seeped into the human's face, he began to stutter.

"I couldn't stand to see you . . .with your own hands, Snively . . . to see you . . to these. . . these KIDS . . . ."

'Damn." Snively's lips thinned with rage, and his whole body shook. His finger pressed harder against the trigger. "I knew you couldn't take this. I knew you should have left. Damn you, Sprocket. When I'm through with this rabble, I'll finish you off--by then, after you see what happens to these 'kids,' I think you'll be grateful for it." His voice broke, broke like glass, on the word "finish." His eyes were brimming with the proof that he had no true desire to do what he pledged he would. But it still hurt Sprocket too deeply to fathom.

"You creep," Sally injected, stepping towards the anguished human. "I remember you. You're almost as good a FAKER as your uncle."

"You shut up, little girl!" Snively shrieked, whirling to face her, and the pistol snapped in her direction like a copperhead. "Shut up or consider yourself the first volunteer for the firing squad!" One tear spilled down his cheek through his tantrum, and the princess's jaw dropped. It entranced her, as if she had never realized that an enemy was capable of emotion. No, the gun did not frighten her, but the tear stupefied her.

Derek's reflexes were quicker than Sprocket would have thought. He lashed Rosie's laser out from behind him and demanded in a quavering tone that Snively back away from Sally.

Snively's face transformed in that instant. It shed all remorse, all sadness. He cackled. The sound was a hideous, maddened crow's death cry, reverberating in the metallic chamber. Sprocket shuddered. Snively never used to laugh that way. Hideous dismay seized the dog--he didn't know this boy at all. This boy was more a stranger to him now than the Sadosii who'd almost killed Derek.

"Who are you?" he breathed. Snively did not hear him. He was far too busy attempting to be diabolical, swinging the pistol cockily, skulking around with eyes that could make the skin crawl. . . far too occupied trying to become his uncle. . .

Who are you?

"Oh, riiiight," the human sneered, thick nasal arrogance in his tone. "You don't have the balls to shoot me, Freedom Fighter!"

Indeed, Derek's grip faltered. He stumbled over numerous weak comebacks while the hateful Overlander's smirk curled wider.

But Nayr wasn't so soft. "Maybe he doesn't," the hunter growled, and somehow, like an electric current, crossed the room, drew his sword, and grabbed Snively by the neck. "But, oh, my dear young friend, rest assured that I can do even WORSE." He ran the edge of the blade across the fine skin of Snively's neck, taunting the boy's convulsing Adam's Apple.

The human gagged, all color draining from his young face and making it that of a frightened corpse. The insufferable sneer dissolved. "No, no, please, have mercy . . ." That thin neck twisted in a frenzied search for a savior, and finally those tragic eyes found Sprocket's face, begged the canine in a way so heartbreaking that Sprocket almost wanted the blade to slice his own neck. Strangled words, desperate words: "Oh, God, Sprocket--help me, you fool! Help me, don't leave me!" Tiny sweat beads danced down Snively's ashen face as he pleaded.

Sprocket wrung his hands. He could not think, he could not think. God, what to do . . . ?

"No, don't kill him," he blurted. "D. . . d-don't."

The room went silent as a tomb. Nayr's lip drew back in a contemptuous growl. "You know this little freak pretty well, don't you? Got a soft spot for an old buddy?"

"I . . . I just mean he could be...ah, quite an asset. Yeah. You can use him as a hostage." He turned to Derek, hands wrung harder. "Use his knowledge of Robotnik's tactics to predict how to really launch an attack against the city!" He nodded feverishly. 'Yeah, don't kill him--he's alone!"

The Overlander, in the Sadosii's grip, went limp, gnawing on his lip, as he awaited his verdict. His eyes and hair were wild., like that of a caged thing.

Derek looked as though a heavy burden had been dumped on his shoulders--like a pile of rancid, vile garbage, and he was the man honor-bound to deliver it to the dump. Finally, he mumbled, "Let's keep him for a while. Make sure he's unarmed. We need to get going."

Sprocket nodded, frisked his friend quickly while a grumbling Nayr held Snively still, and found only some communication devices to confiscate. 'I'll take him." He led Snively as gently as possible to the center of the cockpit, his every thought and step laden with guilt, and allowed Nayr to tie the human's hands and feet with some inexhaustible rope. All the while, Snively's head bowed at the ground, his eyes bleary and dull, a haze or stupor having overcome him. Like humiliation in the act of incompetence, anger at the disease of weakness. Slavery at its best. It reminded Sprocket of the look his friend used to get on his face whenever Colin Sr. took a belt to Snively's hindside--gloomy, enduring, dead ACCEPTANCE. 'Worthless," he thought he heard the human mutter.

Then one of the children, Sonic, approached and gave the human's armband, with the red R for Robotnik, a cruel, teasing snap. Snively growled and a loosely-bound booted foot struck out, but easily missed the speedy child's frame--the hedgehog dodged, laughing and sticking his tongue out at the prisoner. From the back of the craft, Bunnie's syrupy young voice implored her saucy friend to leave the human alone, strengthened by Sally's reluctant agreement. No doubt the children were keeping Rosie's teachings of charity in mind. It was an admirable grace for their young age. Snively, for his part, settled back into place and slouched even further to the ground at the sound of her kindness.

While Nayr warily approached Derek and asked for a briefing on his mission, Sprocket took the opportunity to convey his makeshift plan to his incarcerated friend. He thought no one else was listening. "Just hang tight. I'll find a way to release you when we get to Nimbus. Just play along like we hate each other."

Snively's gaze snapped on the canine's face. "But I don't need to 'play along.'" Sincerity lashed every word with venom. " I DO hate you, for this."

"But you don't--"

"Oh, I understand. You screwed with the command files back at the oil freighter, didn't you? That's what took you so long. You did it deliberately to free your filthy little animal friends instead of letting me just do the job quickly and cleanly. Damned dirty little animals . . "

"Two of them could have killed you in a heartbeat if I weren't here, Snively."

The reply was both impulsive and illogical. And painful. "I still hate you. Why can't you just be DEAD?" Snively writhed against his bonds, in order to turn and face the back of the craft, away from the canine; air hissed between his bared teeth. 'Why can't I just KILL you?"

" You can't accept that trust is unconditional? You don't know me well enough to know I would never harm you?"

'"Shove off, Mobian." The human's arms crossed over his chest, made him his cocoon, and he cringed away from the friend who had become his conscience. He tried to engulf as much of himself as he could into the gloomy dim light of the craft's floor, fingers over face. "Just leave me alone. I don't care whether you let me go or let them kill me--I don't care! When will you get it? I just want to be left alone! ALONE!"

Numb, Sprocket stood and backed away from the stranger who had once been his brother, returning to the pilot seat. "I'll always catch you, you stupid goof," he breathed. "And just my luck, you do a lot of falling." Snively's shoulders jerked--it was impossible to discern whether he heard or was just fidgeting against his uncomfortable bonds.

Sunset was painting the deep blue paper of the sky radiant reds and oranges. Temporal peace had returned. Despite the fierce quarrel, the canine was satisfied with his plan of action . . . until the princess appeared from behind the chair. "I heard every word," she declared. "Why are you doing that for a monster like him?"

Sprocket was paralyzed. Still words managed to form on his lips. "Because he's still my friend, and I still love my friends. Always."

"You still have hope in their potential," she finally remarked, after an eternal silence, gnawing contemplatively on a nail.

"Yeah," he croaked. "Something like that."

Her stare was imperceptible. "Good night, Mr. Apollo," she said, and left him to his flying.

If only he could soar above his own fearful ruminations.

****

Nack the Weasel slung a gangly leg over the edge of his airbike, crooked canine fang gnawing mercilessly on the end of an unlit cigarette.

Damned thing, he mused, ripping the thin white object from his mouth. It was as useless as these uppity "Freedom Fighters"--crusaders with no gain. No profit.

There was nothing more pointless, no graver sin, in Nack's mind, than committing an act without thought of personal profit. What else was there anymore? Greed was no crime--it was survival instinct; it was the fuel of motivation. Hell, if there was one thing he'd give nasty old bulk-bottom up in Robotropolis, it was that the brute had discerned a profit, made a clear plan of action, and seized his treasure. He'd shoot old Julian point blank if he had two seconds' chance--yes, despite the biter testimonies of the bounty hunter's clients, he felt a little something against the tyrant human for what he did to innocent Mobians. A morsel of anger and disgust, for after all, the man HAD sent robots out to murder his parents the day of the coup-- on their wealthy western continental ranch, leaving Nack and his twin sister bankrupt and orphaned.

But there was no denying the despot knew how to get what he wanted. No matter what the means. And Nack had to admire that breed of determination.

He sighed--a long, hissing, weary, protracted sort of groan. This attribute, the cause of his only reverence, was utterly lacking in the client with whom he had a rendezvous today. She was one of those soft old fools who mistook stupidity for selflessness. Maybe that was why he felt like vomiting instead of leaping for joy at the thought of the boundless fortunes she'd promised him. Maybe he even felt sorry for her, for her desperation, because she was such a slave to her ability to keep others safe and contented. Nack prided himself on the fact that he had no strings attached--that he was at no one's mercy.

It was an unseasonably hot day--sweltering, even through the shade of the canopy. Nack shook his frame free of the sweat beads that were making his dusty lavender fur stick and itch against his skin. He flashed a look at his watch, removed his derby and wiped his forehead and crazy unkempt hair. He eyed the silent, dark Knothole huts, in the near distance. "Come on, Nannie Woodchuck, let's get crackin.' " He put the cigarette back in his mouth, just to alleviate his boredom. Another pride of his was the fact that he'd been able to smuggle contraband tobacco off just about every black market source this side of MegaCentral since the coup. Since he joined the Bounty Hunters Society, since he realized that there was a price, really, for everything.

"That's a peculiar expression," an ascetic female voice floated from the foliage. "Could you explain the logic behind it?"

Nack gasped and vaulted off the bike, clambering for a weapon in his belt. He was more enraged than startled, for it had been years since anyone had the stealth to catch him by surprise. His long tail lashed fiercely, like that of a mongoose preparing to strike a wayward snake. "Who the hell--"

"Easy." The voice grew soothing. "I'm unarmed." A curvaceous ruby echidna slid from the underbrush, a wry smile on her lips. She cocked her head. "And I'm not from hell, either."

Nack blinked, sputtered a few attempts at a witty comeback. Having expected the company of a modestly-clad woman old enough to be his mother, he now struggled to veil an extremely pleased croon of, 'Well, helllll-oooo, dolly!" and a lopsided grin. As ever when enthusiasm got the better of him, his Western lilt seeped back into his voice. "YOU sure ain't Nannie Woodchuck!" He tipped his hat, with a hoot, eyeing just about everything below her neck. "And I'll THANK y'all for THAT!"

The echidna frowned, adjusting visors, pursing her lips. She was either mildly irritated or mildly amused at his uncouth greeting, but behind the shiny black curtain she was fingering, it was too enigmatic for him to decide. She was still talking, in a breathy and mesmerizing tone; he wasn't listening. He was gawking.

"EXCUSE me, sir!" Her voice acquired volume and firmness. Hoping his cheeks were not as red as her fur, the weasel shuddered back to alertness. His eyes snapped back on her perturbed face.

"I'm...uh...sorry? What?"

The echidna planted hands on her waist. "I said, who is Nannie Woodchuck? Does she know these parts fairly well?"

He chortled. "Too well, girlie. And her real name's Rosie." The sound of the name made the echidna jump and wring her hands. Suspicion shrouded Nack's dagger glare--might this woman be a rival hunter, come to steal his clients from under his nose? No, he couldn't allow that--his sister Nicolette would have too long a laugh over that one. He eased closer to her, one index finger extended towards her. "Who wants to know?"

The echidna grinned. She was stolid and still as a statue, composed as a human on valium. Almost as if his company were tedious. "You're going to have to work for that answer."

"Oh?" he bared his fangs; he was grinning, relish in his eyes. Licking his lips, irreverence and mirth in his tone. "Pray tell, mademoiselle," he snickered, spitting out the cigarette at her feet, "what might my homework assignment be?"

"You get my visor off my face, I'll tell you my name first. I get your derby off your head, you tell me yours first." Her smile acquired mischief. "Deal?"

Nack cackled, slapping his thigh. When he sobered, he nodded once. "Yes'm."

"Alright, then." She inhaled deeply, staring upward, as if concentrating or meditating, arms folded across chest. "Go ahead."

Nack rose a skeptical eyebrow. He wondered if perhaps his unexpected company were blind. "Hey, now, listen, I may be a shameless swindle, but I'm not gonna fight a lady without giving her a fair chance." He spat on the ground challengingly. "What kind of ass do you take me for? I mean, Mogul's Trunk, girl, haven't ya got a pocketknife or something? I'll wait!"

She did not even look down at him. "No unfairness here. Believe me. Go ahead, try."

Nack guffawed. "Well, of all the arrogant... fine, sweetheart, you asked for it!" Well versed in martial arts, gained from a close friendship with a sniper of sorts, Rouge the Bat, Nack utilized grace and savagery all in one attack. He flung at her with leg outstretched, like lightning.

He still wasn't fast enough.

A rumbling noise filled the landscape, and yet seemed to emanate solely form his opponent's being. In a time measured too liberally even by milliseconds, a bright emerald current of energy, neither liquid nor gas nor electricity, and yet all of these, bombarded him. The feeling was both exquisite and excruciating, but more than either, overwhelming. Nack flopped to the ground beyond the echidna like a dead fish. He wheezed, eyes wide, as she stepped over him and gently removed the derby from his sweat-caked head. "Name's . . .N-N-Nicholas Jay Weasel II" he coughed. "Call me Nack."

She offered him her hand and he struggled panting to his feet. "I'm J'Ran. It's a pleasure. Oh yes," she breathed, in his ear, making him quiver, "By the way, don't call me 'sweetheart.' "

"Whatever you say!" He limped to his bike, trying to collect his thoughts.

'Well," a new female voice, rich, benevolent and somber, sliced through the tense moment, "that's something I don't usually hear out of YOU." Rosie strode from the direction of the huts, wrapped in multiple gray garments. She offered J'Ran an apple from her backpack, pointedly sidestepping Nack. He rolled his eyes and snorted. "Here, dear, please accept this gesture of peace," Rosie proceeded, "and tell me your name. It seems you've been looking for me."

"You gonna give the arthritic nannie your little 'test,' too?" Nack hissed, feeling dejected, rubbing a throbbing elbow. "Because that would REALLY be amusing."

"No." J'Ran spoke as if the dark humor of the statement did not register. "No, because Miss Rosie has information of a vital nature to me, information that a person by the name of Sprocket told me would be boundless. Rest assured," she added, when alarm seeped into the squirrel's face, "that he also made it plain that you would not succumb to any measure of brute force. If you choose not to divulge information to me, I will not harm you. After all," and she winked winsomely at Nack, "I don't have any weapons."

Rosie sighed, and nodded to the airbike. "Can it carry three?" she asked the weasel.

'Aw, come on, I don't have all freakin' millennium..."

"Just answer the question, Nack."

He grunted. "Yeah, sure. But you get to sit in the back." He grinned another grin of attempted aplomb at J'Ran. "I aim to enjoy my company this evening!"

'Come along, dear," Rosie snapped, quickly making herself a barrier between the bounty hunter and newcomer on the bike. She handed the sullen weasel a tattered, hastily-scrawled map. "Nack, here are the coordinates of Nimbus Island. Get us there as fast as you can. In the meantime, I'll help out our new friend as best I can, if she agrees to exposure to the dangers involved with too much knowledge."

J'Ran shook her head. "Milady, I'm afraid I already have learned that lesson far too well."

"Just one question," Nack sneered while revving up his engines. The leaves and pebbles of the forest floor roiled under them as they began to elevate, and the echidna awaited the query patiently, tilting her head over Rosie's shoudler. "Yes?"

"What exactly IS your line of work, Miss J'Ran? You know Robotnik and his Pretty Boy nephew? Or are you with Nannie Woodchuck here?"

"I'm not well acquainted enough with their struggle to take sides," she retorted frankly. "I'm a neutral."

He chuckled, low and cynical. "Yeah," he murmured, "I pretend that I am, too."

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Post 63:

Tristan Palmgren

"So what's it like to be a Freedom Fighter?" the rather hefty walrus asked him, breathlessly. When it looked as though Derek would ignore him, again, he tugged sharply at the koala's arm fur. Being hairless himself, the walrus was evidently unaware of just how painful and irritating that was to his furred brethren. "Is it anything like Sally says it is?"

It had been years since he'd had to deal with children. He'd almost forgotten how unintentionally egocentric their little minds could be - the walrus had just blithely assumed that he'd already known everything the Princess had said on the subject, when in fact he'd only met each of them a few days ago, and then only briefly. Keeping one eye firmly on the airship's control panel, Derek turned to glance at the child. This kind of undeserved hero worship had been the last thing he'd prepared for. He had no idea how to respond.

While the other adults had busied themselves securing their prisoner in the back of the airship, Derek had gone back to the pilot's controls and lifted the ship off the ground. He faced them towards the northern sea, and the course that would eventually take them to Nimbus Island. He didn't notice until too late that Sprocket and Nayr had left him alone in this room full of children.

Some of the kids had left, but of those who were here, all of them had their attention focused on Derek. Dulcy seemed to have picked up on how the others were treating him and was starting to do the same herself, as if trying to fit in with her peers. She had seen just how useless Derek was in a pressure situation first-hand, and she was still doing it! Even the brash blue one regarded him with something akin to adulation.

Didn't any of them understand?

"C'mon, what's it like?" the walrus prodded again. "Do you think we could help you fight Robotnik?"

Derek fought a sudden impulse to point to the blood that still stained his forehead and tell the walrus that that was what 'Freedom Fighting' was like. That voice wasn't his better self speaking, he knew, but he couldn't ignore it. He was in no mood for this. He just wanted to scare the kid straight, and make him understand that this wasn't the kind of thing that should be worshipped. He was still terribly groggy from blow to his skull. Though he hadn't told Sprocket or anyone else about this yet, he was having trouble thinking clearly, and was constantly fighting an overpowering urge to sleep. It was probably a concussion. Maybe he would have to ask the squirrel Princess if he could borrow the medical scanners and her computer... what was its name? ...Nicole? That would have to come later, though. Right now the pilot's console needed his attention.

Instead of giving into to either impulse - to fall asleep or scare the walrus straight - he merely chuckled weakly, and said, "I'll tell you around a roaring campfire someday. I promise. But I'm a little busy right now."

The door to the rear compartment hissed open. Derek glanced back, hoping to see Sprocket so that he could finally understand how he had evaded insanity earlier. He needed some backup here. Instead, though, he saw the squirrel princess. She glanced about the room, expression implacable. She was one of the only children who didn't seem to regard Derek as some kind of hero, and for that he was grateful. She looked out the airship's viewport for an empty moment, and then pulled Nicole out of her boot and began speaking to her in quiet tones.

Derek blearily thought to himself, Nicole? Wasn't there something he'd meant to ask something about her? About some kind of scan? Well, he couldn't remember now, so it �must not have been important

Normally, he would have shooed the children out of the airship's cockpit, but the only other room on the tiny ship was the storage room in the back, and that was where Snively was being held. He hesitated to send any of them back with that beast. It worried him that even Sally had gone back there. Snively had almost shot her! Derek would have killed that monster himself if he'd had to, no matter what Snively had said about his courage or lack thereof. When a child's life was on the line, he... he was willing to kill to defend it. He would've s-shot, would've murdered, right then and t-there.

Wouldn't he?

He remembered just how fiercely his hands had trembled when he'd gripped that rifle. It had seemed like he would be more likely to pull the trigger by the accident of shivering fingers rather than any action of his own volition. He had never been put a situation where had to take a life before, and it was only by the sheerest of luck that he had escaped the choice this time. Abstractly, intellectually, he knew shooting was the right thing to do if the life of someone more innocent than his target was on the line, but he didn't know if he could make the same choice while under the actual pressure.

Well, it was over now. Thanks to the timely intervention of Sprocket and the Sadosii, he hadn't had to make that choice. Both Snively and Sally still lived. If he was still fated to make that decision at some point, at least it wouldn't be for another day. He could concentrate on other things.

His present situation was somewhat worrying. To put it bluntly, he had no idea what was going on.

The Sadosii had attacked him, certainly, but that was the last thing he could remember. The next thing he knew, he'd waken up here to face the unfriendly end of Snively's pistol. Nayr was acting as Derek's ally - if a reluctant one - and had probably saved both his and Sally's life just now. He wasn't even threatening Dulcy. He had no idea what had happened between then and now to provoke this startling change. And Sprocket... ye gods, Sprocket!... was here, good as new, and acting as though he'd never been shot in the faceplate. So many strange and completely unexpected things had happened that he was seriously starting to wonder if he'd dreamed this entire affair.

Derek may not have been in control of the situation, but the kids sure looked up at him as if he were in command. He was the first 'Freedom Fighter' they'd ever encountered. Ari had imparted a few words of wisdom about the art of leadership in the weeks before they'd parted company. The most paramount rule, he'd said, was to never show fear, no matter how afraid he actually was. The person giving orders should never be publicly terrified. That was when people started panicking and stopped following commands. It was only out of respect for this rule that Derek didn't immediately launch himself out of his chair, grab him by shoulders, slam him against the wall, and loudly and fretfully demand an explanation for everything that had happened since he'd been knocked out. The last thing anybody needed was to terrify the children even more.

Instead, in a quiet, controlled voice, he asked, "Sprocket, don't you have something you'd like to tell me?"

His forced timidity had the effect opposite the one he'd intended. The canine dismissed Derek's question with a simple wave of his paw. "In a moment," he said. "Where's Princess Sally?"

The other children glanced in Sally's direction. Sprocket followed their gaze. Sally was in the quiet corner of the airship's control cabin, and, once she heard her name spoken, she raised her hand a little to acknowledge Sprocket. Her face was composed and serene, despite the fact that she'd stood on the precipice of death only moments ago. If anyone looked to be in command of the situation, it was this child. For a moment, it looked as though her face was nothing more than a regal mask, and that she didn't want any emotions to slip through. Then her eyes softened. "Yes... Commander Apollo? What do you want?"

Derek briefly considered just giving up and placing Princess Sally in command. She certainly seemed more capable than he was. He was a little frustrated at the ease with which Sprocket had shrugged off his question. It was a little late to protest now, however. Sprocket was already involved in another conversation. Derek took a deep breath, turned back to the pilot's controls, and listened.

Sprocket leaned down on his knees until he could face Sally eye-to-eye. "You took Nicole back almost before I could get the whole story out of her, but I found out enough," he said. "That wasn't a very nice thing you did, you know. You shouldn't have used Nicole to spy on Rosie."

Sprocket's paternal tone of voice slid right off Sally as though her oak brown fur repelled it. It probably affected her inside, of course, but she let none of it show on her external. The next words she spoke were tranquil and adult, a sharp contrast to her distinctly eleven-year-old body. "Please don't be condescending, Commander. We did what we thought had to be done, and we knew just what rules we were breaking when we did it. Rosie... well, Rosie just doesn't understand what Mobius needs. We had to do it. We want to help."

"You mean, you want to help," Sprocket murmured. "You did what you thought had to be done. The others, they're good kids, but none of them have the initiative to pull what you did, not yet. Don't hide behind a group. If you're anywhere near as adult as you're pretending, you'll step up and take personal responsibility. Because, kiddo, with that one move you made, you just walked out into the big leagues. Nothing can protect you out here."

Sally stood taller. She drew a cloak of hostility around herself like a shield, and, without words, she made it very clear that she disliked what Sprocket was implying. "I *am* taking personal responsibility for this. You don't know how much it hurt me to betray Rosie like that, but I'm doing it for the right cause. I'm an adult and fully capable of making my own decisions. I can help fight Robotn-"

"You're not an adult," Sprocket interrupted. His tone deceptively soft and gentle, so as to keep the other children from overhearing. It was only by straining his ears that Derek was able to listen. The canine's voice was smooth but pained. He was pulling no punches now, even though it clearly hurt him to be saying all of this to such a fragile-looking child. If Snively were speaking these same words, he would have done it coldly and without a trace of emotion, but Sprocket couldn't eliminate his innate compassion. He was empathetic, but still relentless. "You know that's not true. You're not just a child physically, but mentally, too, no matter how much you try to hide it from yourself. You've done entirely the wrong things ever since we've met. You've betrayed the trust of your caretaker, spied on her and then used that information to run away from home. You've endangered your friends by bringing them here, and not telling them the extent of the danger they're in. You may wax poetic about 'the right thing' and 'Freedom Fighting' all you wish, but that doesn't change the fact that you brought them here without even letting just what exactly they were risking. You've interfered in things you shouldn't have. You flew above the city's radar range, and that's what brought Snively here. You nearly got you and your friends roboticized, and Derek murdered. These are the fruits of your labors, Princess. You can't lie to me. No matter how you try to dress it up or explain it, these were still the actions of a child. Worse, they were the actions of a fool... and you *are* going to take personal responsibility for them."

Sally's eyes were wide open and unblinking; the folds of fur on her forehead were bent into an expression that could have been called anger, but instead looked as though it had been frozen halfway its through formation. She stared at Sprocket without seeing him. Her hands were curled up into fists at her side. One arm trembled.

It was a dressing down the likes of which she'd never seen before, and it was clear that it had affected something hidden inside her. She wasn't sure how to react, so she simply said nothing.

Sprocket asked her, "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't have Derek turn this airship around, and take you back to Knothole right now."

Sally didn't answer. Her face had gone pale, enough so to even be visible through her thick brown fur. The fur on her forehead was covered with a thick sheen of sweat. The expression of anger had long since disappeared, only to be replaced by... what? For a moment, Derek was unable to fathom it. It was part fear, yes, but that wasn't the whole of it. He saw that it was doubt. Sprocket's words had - for the first time - given her serious cause to doubt herself, and it was shredding her apart inside.

Looking at her as she appeared now, Derek could see the illusion of adulthood vanish. Sprocket was right. It was easy to see it now. Sally wasn't the adult she pretended to be, and neither were any of the other children. As brave as she might try to be when it came to 'Freedom Fighting', she was only eleven years old, and now that she had confronted her own failings it was more apparent than ever before. She was just a small, frightened child who'd stumbled into something far too big for her to handle.

After a long moment of silence, patted her gently on the shoulder, and stood back up. Remorsefully, he said, "Well, I can give you two reasons. We don't have the time to drop you off anywhere. There's a group of people out there who need to have supplies soon, and every hour counts. We can't turn around now. Rosie is the second reason. She's probably gotten back to Knothole, now, and discovered that you were gone. That means that she's going to come out this way looking for you herself, and that she's not going back to Knothole until she's found you. I'm afraid you're stuck with us, until this is all over."

Without another word, Sally scooped up Nicole, and walked towards the airship's rear compartment. The hatchway slid shut behind her. The other children gaped wide-eyed at her retreat. Most of them hadn't been listening to the conversation - most of it, anyway - but they had never seen Sally like that before. Sprocket bore their accusatory stares. For a moment, he wavered, and looked as though the only thing he wanted to do was to bend down and embrace them. He regained control of himself, though. Some of them looked hopefully at Derek, as though they thought that he would offer his support against the canine aggressor, but he said nothing. Some of the glances turned to glares, as he was rendered guilty by association and inaction. One by one, they all followed their Princess to the airship's rear compartment.

Sprocket slumped down into the seat closest to Derek's, the co-pilot's chair. They were alone up here. Derek acknowledged him with a quiet nod, but otherwise didn't say anything. They shared something that felt like an after-battle mentality. They both felt as though they had just committed a crime. A necessary crime, perhaps, but a crime nonetheless.

"I didn't want to hurt them like that, you know," Sprocket said at last.

"I know," Derek said.

"You should get some rest, you know. I can take over the controls," the canine offered. A slight grin worked its way into his voice. "You certainly look like hell. Are you sure you're okay, after that disc hit you...?"

"I'm not sure. But I can keep flying. I don't think I'd be able to sleep much, anyway," he lied. Something tickled the back of his mind, something he'd been dying to ask earlier, but had almost forgotten in all the confusion. He glanced over at the robot. "Sprocket?"

"Yes?"

"Between when I get conked out and when I woke up here... would you mind getting around to telling me what the hell happened? Good gods, man, I don't even know how you're still alive!"

--------------------------------------------

Post 64:

J.R. Grant

"How good are you at patching up a discus wound instead of making one?" the robot asked irritably over his shoulder. "Because I'm getting the feeling I've got some major flying to do before this day is through."

Nayr didn't even understand the significance between a discus wound and flying, but he was too broken to ask. His stupid imagination... he remembered quite clearly. As he imagined his sword cutting the marsupial in two, the hands went around his neck. Nayr could normally have avoided this. In fact, he probably could have broken free. This however, was a robot. Its moves were incredibly fast and its grip more than he could have taken. Then he found out that the marsupial wasn't some trigger happy idiot. He had the same intentions as everyone else except the white sadosii... the overlanders. Nayr shuddered.

Look at me. Do I look like a doctor to you? A belt full of weapons, a sword strapped behind my back and-- Nayr stopped. It was his fault that the mistake had been made. Now he had to make up for it, even if he still questioned the koala's authenticity. Nayr knew that stopping blood flow was the first priority, but how to do that on the head was something he didn't know how to do... then he remembered. Apply pressure. Nayr pushed his palm against the torn uniform, blood turning it sanguine. It wasn't long until the koala began to come to through groans of severe discomfort. The robot immediately swung around, his face full of radiance.

"SCORE!" He yelled slamming his fist down on the dashboard, the dashboard remarkably remaining intact. The next minute made Nayr fume. Sprocket explained that Nayr had gotten "aggressive". While that was true, Nayr didn't like hearing the affair repeated, past events constantly rubbed in his face...

"I struck decisively and aggressively when I believed you intended harm to innocents," Nayr loudly retorted in anger. "If you expect an apology, it's not coming, but I do intend to correct my error by healing you. It shouldn't be too great an undertaking--the blood makes the wound seem far deeper than it is."

"Are you sure?" the koala asked darkly, ducking from the fingers that were trying to remove the bandage. Nayr growled, but Sprocket told them both to can it. Nayr reluctantly dropped the subject. Nayr drifted off much like he had earlier, losing touch with the current conversation. Mainly by a smell... a foul stench that belonged to the white sadosii-- the overlanders. Nayr remembered the history that had all but disappeared about the underground society of the overlanders. Millennia before, they had moved underground and when they came back to the surface thousands of years later, they tried to take over the planet. They felt they had the right to do so. The lesser races fought back and finally agreed to a treaty, where the overlanders agreed to remain in the city of Megalopolis and the lesser races in the city of Mobotropolis. Then the Mobian warlord took over Mobius.

Sirens brought Nayr back from his horrible memories of betrayal. The smell strengthened. One of those cursed white sadosii was trying to break in. One of the ones who succeeded where thousands of other white sadosii failed. Sprocket motioned for Nayr to follow and he gladly obeyed. The hatch to the back opened of its own accord and the small white sadosii walked in.

"You've been very bad little furries. Let's not put up too much a struggle, shall we? If you behave, I'll just shoot you and be quick about it, and..."

He paused, eyeing Sprocket. He seemed to be struggling over something...

"I'm not sure what detracted you from delivering that oil to the city, Commander Apollo," the white sadosii said with a hint of doubt in his voice. "But it seems you've got it all under control. Sorry for stepping on your toes...."

Nayr's first reaction was another case of betrayal. He almost turned on Sprocket when he noticed Sprocket's tone and how the white sadosii delivered his sentence to the robot. It looks like the betrayal was the other way around...

"I couldn't stand to see you...with your own hands, Snively...to see you..to these...these KIDS...." Sprocket weakly rambled.

"Damn. I knew you couldn't take this. I knew you should have left. Damn you, Sprocket. When I'm through with this rabble, I'll finish you off--by then, after you see what happens to these 'kids,' I think you'll be grateful for it." his voice shaking with rage and anger, the voice of trust being broken. The little girl spoke then.

"You creep, I remember you! You're almost as good a FAKER as your uncle." she yelled at him.

"You shut up, little girl! Shut up or consider yourself the first volunteer for the firing squad!" Snively yelled, tears coming down his face now. The child took a step back, surprised by the inaccuracy of her unjust assumption. The weakness of Snively must have had an effect on the koala's actions. He whipped out that same laser rifle that was focused on his head only a little while earlier. Snively just laughed maniacally.

"Oh, riiiight, You don't have the balls to shoot me, Freedom Fighter!" Snively replied with amusement at the koala's threatening actions.

"W-W-Well y-y--" Derek stumbled over his words, the laser pistol losing its sight. What a wimp... the children were in danger. They all were. He hated this overlander. He hated them and everything they stood for. Domination. Like the mages...

"Maybe he doesn't," Nayr held out his hand and used some of the magic in his necklace to draw his sword, electric current pulsing through the air as it glided into his hands. With a quick fluid movement, the little overlander was hovering above the ground in front of his face, held up by the collar of his shirt. Nayr placed the sword flush with the skin, just a little slide could slit the throat... "But, oh, my dear young friend, rest assured that I can do even WORSE." Nayr lightened the pressure of the blade, but kept the adrenaline rushing by slowly bringing it back and forth lightly on the neck. The little overlander stuttered through some pleads for mercy before calling out to Sprocket.

"Oh, God, Sprocket--help me, you fool! Help me, don't leave me!" Snively cried in terror, a final plead to a former friend...

"No, don't kill him, D... d-don't." Sprocket muttered. Nayr winced at what he heard. Obviously there was still friendship between the two. Nayr growled and did not loosen the grip. Perhaps there was more to this situation than there seemed.

"You know this little freak pretty well, don't you? Got a soft spot for an old buddy?" Nayr asked, glaring through the little overlander.

"I... I just mean he could be... ah, quite an asset. Yeah. You can use him as a hostage. Use his knowledge of Robotnik's tactics to predict how to really launch an attack against the city! Yeah, don't kill him--he's alone!" Sprocket replied. His words had credit, but the tone did not. Nayr reluctantly let go, the small figure dropping to the ground. Nayr had to keep from chuckling at the pathetic overlander. Nayr would keep an eye and both of them. He suspected that their friendship could either greatly work for them or greatly work against them. Nayr decided that he could handle the situation when it came anyhow, so he walked off to see what the koala was up to. It was time to get a little info on what his mission really was.

"So, koala, what is your reason for going out to Nimbus?" Nayr queried. The koala shrank away.

"Why should you care? Don't you have any more innocents to kill?!" the koala replied and started walking away. Nayr was enraged, but didn't pursue the comment further. He was about to ask again, with a little incentive this time, but the koala replied on his own.

"I'm refueling." was all he said, this time with a little less aggression in his voice, and headed off towards Sprocket.

-------------------------------------------

Post 65:

A.    MistressAli

(Snively)

He curled into a tight little ball. An ear to the floor; he could hear the purring engines of this machine. Children's quiet voices and the occasional hesitant word between the koala and the black skinned creature.

He thought he might sleep a little, but sleep seemed impossible with those voices; they made him paranoid and he was still so bitterly angry. He never thought Sprocket would take up the knife. Put another puncture into his back. But it was only fair right? After what Snively had done...

Wrong, wrong - Stupid! Stupid to trust anyone now.

He must have drifted asleep nevertheless because he was no longer bound on the floor. He was walking.

It was blustering cold winter and he had lost his hat somewhere along the way. The wind savaged his hair he could barely see through the thick tangling strands and the snow blown white and wild around him.

What am I doing out here? He clasped his thin arms around himself, shivering.

Then he remembered. Where he was; why he had stopped with the snow cold around his ankles. The thick hemlock trees were vastly familiar; this was the backyard of his home. He was waiting for someone.

But they didn't come. He called out, his voice ripped away by the wind; he could see the snow whirling past the murky light Colin kept lit constantly on the back porch.

He finally slipped down under one of the trees, curling his knees close to his chest. He was shivering; hands numbed. A few tears froze into hard beads on his cheeks. This was what loneliness felt like. This was what the word alone meant. And he felt strangely betrayed. Cold and angry, but mostly...empty.

Later he learnt it wasn't Sprocket's fault. He had gotten stuck doing chores in his newest foster family. Snively had patted the dog on the shoulder and said, "Oh, it's alright. I quite enjoyed *not* having your mangy ass around for once."

Sprocket had laughed.

Ah well, thought the dream Overlander, staring out over the snow which lay calm and white in the forest now. At least those tears had melted....even if inside he still felt frostbitten.

**

He awakened with a groan. What a stupid memory. Or dream. Or combination thereof. Gah. The bindings on his wrists were starting to get uncomfortable. He flexed his fingers, wiggling a little, but the black hunter had pulled the bonds tighter when Sprocket wasn't looking, and he couldn't get out.

The door slid open with a quiet 'swish' and he feigned sleep, peering through his eyelashes. If it was the hunter he wanted no further conflict with him, and Sprocket had wandered into enemy territory. But no, it was the little girl. The defiant one.

Too bad he hadn't shot her. He didn't like her, no, not the way she'd called him out. 'A faker?' he replayed it indignantly. She thought she could see through him, apparently. Too ambitious for her own good. She'd be troublesome when she grew up. Maybe he'd get another chance at her before then.

Right now she had a peculiar look on her face. As one who had spent his lifetime thus far maintaining a shield (no...a stone wall) he could see what this was. A fault line in a shield, a line threatening to crack and shatter the barrier. It made his lip curl. And she called him the faker...

She stood there staring at the wall, in one hand clutched a small computer. He eyed it curiously, noting the small red indentation in the top. So...the computer was equipped with a laser. He opened his eyes wider, hands twitching. That would cut through the ropes. Yes. Probably would take off a few of his fingers in the process, but hey. As long as he got free, right. He'd prefer to do it without Sprocket's empathetic help as well; just so he wouldn't be indebted any further to that blasted canine.

A moment later another child entered; the blue punk-ish looking hedgehog.

"Hey, Sal," he said. "Are you ok?"

She didn't answer.

"What he'd say?" Sonic had actually heard part of the conversation but none of it registered with him. It was just the prattle of another adult who thought they were so much smarter.

"Maybe we shouldn't be doing this," she mumbled.

"Hey. Don't listen to him. What does he know anyway, huh?"

She turned to the boy. They, even at this young age, had the air of two lovers who had battled the years together.

'Star-crossed,' Snively thought with a sneer. His eyes were half open now, lazily watching the conversation. They didn't seem to notice him, or just didn't care.

"But he's right, Sonic. I did...I screwed everything up. I thought everything was going right."

"Hey, we made a little mistake," the boy put a hand on her shoulder. "Rosie always says mistakes are ok cause we learn stuff from them. Right?"

"Not when they endanger lives..." She gazed upwards, sapphire eyes blinking; shiny with tears.

"C'mon Sal, we're all ok..."

He trailed off as the door opened a third time. The girl seemed to regain her calm air, the tears dissolving from her eyes, as the rest of the children wandered in. They all looked equally dejected, indidgnance in their posture.

They stood babbling around her, and the walrus nearly stepped on Snively's nose. He grumbled and rolled closer to the wall. The chubby boy startled and jumped towards the others, nearly bowling over the rabbit child.

The defiant girl's eyes rested on Snively finally, and she frowned.

Snively smiled back, his hands in fists under his chin; he was partially amused by whatever their little dilemma was; and annoyed by being crowded in; having little love or patience for children. "Oh...what's wrong..." he taunted. "All your dreams of being warriors shattered, eh? Isn't that so sad?"

The hedgehog scowled. "Who asked you anything? Who *are* you, anyway?"

Snively just smiled again, languidly, taking in the whole brood, and his eyes finally stopping on one in particular, a little fox with blond hair who appeared to be terrified by the sound of his voice. "One of your worst enemies...rodent..." he purred, delighting in this at least; the way the blond fox shivered and ducked behind the walrus's bulk.

HA! At least someone was scared of him! It made him chuckle despite his plight.

"Leave him alone, you creep," 'Sal' shot at him, her eyes narrowing.

"Shut up, brat." He glared back at her. "You called me a faker...when you're just a pathetic little girl trying to be all grown up... You think you're smart shit, don't you?"

"Hey!" The rabbit, who by all appearances looked sweet as sugar, showed her spice by stamping closer to him and aiming a finger at his face. "Ya'll don't talk to her like that, don't ya'll know she's a Princess?!"

Sal pulled her back by the arm. "Just ignore him, everyone. He's not worth our attention."

"Is that so..." Snively mummered, entranced by the rabbit's comment. A Princess? *The* Princess?? Sal...Sally, of course! He eyed her more closely as she turned away, his eyes gone cold and predatory.

Yes, it was she. Most certainly. When Julian and he had lived in the castle, he saw very little of the Royal Daughter; he being busy in crafting a coup, and she being constantly at play or in studies. And here she was, with her hair grown out and unkempt, and wearing nothing on her body except for a pair of battered blue boots. Her silken garments must be shreds by now.

"She's Princess Nothing...now..." he retorted at the rabbit, who was still casting a glare with her leaf-colored eyes.

She grit her teeth, but apparently the Princess's word was sacred with the children and she said nothing. The kids huddled into the corner furthest from him, talking in hushed tones.

"Are they taking us back?"

"No."

"Well, that's good!"

"Yeah..."

Snively sighed, eyeing the Princess's back one more time. How Robotnik would love to have her. He could see Uncle's eyes now, lit up crimson as he held the fiery upstart dangling by one arm. And how lovely she would squeal under the roboticizer's beam. A cruel smile quirked his lips. He wanted to see that too...

He began to wiggle against his bonds again, in hopes of loosing them enough to slip out, or maybe somehow nab the computer clipped onto the Princess's boot. It didn't matter, so long as he got away from these wretches. And bringing back a prisoner, especially the prestigious Princess, would perhaps make up for everything Snively had botched.

Maybe if Uncle had her in his grip, his fists would forget all the abuse they wanted to inflict on his 'idiot' nephew. Surely the bloated bastard was screaming at him now over the COM link...he could hear him now. Snively, where are you?! Where is my oil! Did you get the ship, did you kill the thief, do you want to die today, do you want another trip to the infirmary you worthless little maggot? And so on and so forth...he was getting sick just thinking of that horrid voice. He moaned and rolled up against the wall where he lowered his head and brought his fists up further to his mouth, trying to tug the knots loose with his teeth.

This would take a while, but they would loosen eventually. He hoped. It was looking to be a very long flight indeed. When they got to their destination maybe he could make them all suffer doing this to him.

Maybe even then, with the fresh stab mark in his back, he could even muster up the willpower to turn his gun on Sprocket and be rid of him. Maybe he could destroy the last tie to anything good (false) and loving (unreliable) and hopeful (non-existent) in his miserable life.

Just maybe.

Post 66:

Ealain Vangogh

He remembered.

"Ye gods, man, I don't even know how you're still alive!" The jubilant wail of the koala piloting the hovercraft at Sprocket's side was a far cry from the rusty dagger of, "Why can't I just kill you?" only half an hour ago, and the accusatory glare, the ravaged visions, of a few moments past, both the products of his own provocation. What despaired him more--violating the security of a pure, untainted, courageous child or a tarnished, frail lifetime friend?

Weariness and hurt mounted Sprocket's shoulders and burdened him, made him drunk with the desire to simply cease existing. Explaining how Snively had saved him from certain death did not help to ease this sorrow.

And hours later, as night descended thick and dark around the ship, as he and the koala allowed the autopilot to coast them through the air to gratify an urge to sleep, he remembered. Yes, memory, as ever opportunistic when he sank to exhaustion and despair, struck. It struck as though a venomous serpent, with cruel Irony.

The only time in Sprocket's life that he truly considered abandoning Snively was the morning of the coup. A convulsive shiver wracked his metallic frame.

"He. . . killed it. . ."

He was warning me.

Late summer 3224. Sprocket was living with the Wolf Clan, face paint, loincloths and all, and Lupe's father had indulged him in a visit to Mobotropolis under the fib that the canine was picking up some produce. He would never forget that strange, hazy afternoon when the air seemed too thick with stillness, with the anticipation between spotting prey across the clearing, absorbing its wide trusting eyes, and shooting without a flinch. The eye of the storm--so inevitably temporal, transient, fleeting. Nakuma knew--yes, she knew why he was really going to the city--but she smiled and pinched his arm as he left, that clever, rich young voice so softly joyful and wise--"Going to rescue your little hairless buddy again?" She tooted on her makeshift wooden flute, pretending to be casual. She had seen the deepening worry creases on her puppy's face.

Sprocket tried to laugh. "He doesn't need to be rescued."

"No, love--he doesn't WANT to be. It's too scary to change. He would rather live a tepid existence with no risks than a glorious life laden with pitfalls."

An unexpected lump choked the canine's throat. "So what should I do? What, if that's true--if I can't fix anything for him? For anybody?"

"Just sit with him. Sit with him and hum a happy tune, and talk about sunlight and beauty and pumpkin pie, and laugh, until he realizes you can stand and stretch for something better too--TOGETHER. The soil bears trees that stretch to the sky every year because the mountain towers unshakable next to him--the mountain promises him, in his gentle voice, that it is indeed possible to touch the stars with your fingertips. Whether fingertips be rocks or weak, breakable wooden branches, it IS possible. And in time, he will fix things for HIMSELF because he knew YOU loved him--because he saw the wonders YOU could achieve with that love."

"There's a lot of faith involved in that fable, Nakuma."

"Of course. After all, in the end, what else do we have?"

He had departed with a new surge of bravado in his then-pulsing organic veins. Rain pursued him during the entire trek following the end of the arid sand. It was typically an hour walk, but the minutes crept by him, slithered from his grasp, and suddenly an hour had become three. His stomach churned--God, Snively was going to be so pissed. It was already a rough day for the boy's raw emotions.

The 13th was his mother's birthday.

He met the human by the bubbling and spraying palace fountain around 11 that morning. They had hardly exchanged warm hellos--and, on Snively's rare part, a desperate sort of hug--when a disturbing interruption soured the conversation.

"Snively! Don't dawdle, boy!" Julian's great hulking form appeared in the doorway of the palace, lips thinned with irritation. "It's getting LATE, you know--you've only an hour left. Too late to play with your little...friend. Do you see what I'm getting at, boy?" He crossed his meaty arms over his chest.

Snively's head hung; his eyes, having ignited with their fierce glimmer, died. The change in him was remarkable. "Of course, sir. In a minute."

'Sir?' When had he started addressing his uncle as 'sir?'

Julian was not appeased. He stepped fully out into the light. "NOW, Snively. There is no time for this anymore."

Snively whirled around and bristled at the kinsman he revered in a manner Sprocket had never seen. "IN A MINUTE!" He snarled, slicing an arm in the air.

Julian's face was a mask of rage; his whole massive core trembled, and his eyes--it was as if they glowed red. But perhaps it was only the glare of rain and oil puddles off the street. He vanished back inside.

Sprocket waited silently for his friend to speak. It was clear that a leaden weight was dragging Snively into the ground, some grave and untold secret. Finally the boy spoke. "I don't have much time--I need to ask you something. To . . tell you something. Have you ever known you were going to do something bad--something hideous--but it was too late and you were too tangled up to stop? I mean, have you ever been afraid to voice your misgivings?"

"Well . . ." Sprocket gave an honest chortle. "No, not really. Well, there was that time I toilet-papered Ian St. John's Eucalyptus tree when I lived in Downunda . . ."

"No, not like that." Snively grabbed his arm; his palm was cold and clammy, his eyes imploring. "Not a prank. A crime--a sin. Something that makes you toss around in your bed all night with voices of doubt and accusation in your brains . . ."

Sprocket withdrew from him and faced him square in the eyes, jaw set like that of a stern elder sibling, despite his younger age. He extended an index finger; he was still fighting laughter, for his friend often voiced these dark, cryptic riddles of his psyche and was easily pacified by the canine's patient, warm rapport. "Tsk, tsk, Snively, now, what on Mobius--"

"Never mind. Just . . .never mind!" It was then that Sprocket understood something was seriously wrong. A deeper register of grief had saturated his friend's every feature--more than grief--it was REMORSE, thick and merciless, draining blood from the boy's cheeks and returning only dark circles and bags under his eyes. Snively was suffering, but this time, misery was expelling the company it so typically loved. "I want your word that no matter WHAT happens today, you'll just go home and STAY there. Just leave me alone today--no matter what."

He was warning me.

The silence was longer and more terrifying than an anaconda. "What are you going to do in an hour, Snively?"

Snively stood ramrod straight, a squire confessing his fallacies to his knight. "I found a bird nest this morning." It was a bizarre response.

"Yes? And?"

"The eggs were crushed from a fall--all except for one."

Sprocket felt tears of empathy welling in his eyes. "I'm sorry you had to see that, man, it must have been--"

"And I crushed the last one under my boot."

The dog's heart stopped. "What? Wh-what do you . . WHY?" The tears began to spill over--but his spirit was retreating to safe numbness.

"Why? Because of what I am going to do in an hour, that egg will be better off crushed." Now Snively, too, was fighting tears--gnawing on a quivering lip. "Now LEAVE. For God's Sake, leave."

Sprocket did leave . . . for forty minutes. He did actually turn and walk away without once looking back, with no intentions to ever look his friend in the face again. Somehow the act against the very frail, blue speckled symbol of life had violated some deeper part of him--had proven Snively's soul hated all things connected with hope, truth, and the future. It had repulsed him.

But then, five minutes outside the city, something had made him change his mind. He came back.

Julian invited him into the palace and apologized for his rudeness of an hour past. He was oddly-clad in a red and yellow caped garment that was a stark departure from his usual dull military uniform. While Sprocket's suspicion was keen, he nevertheless accepted the hospitality --the tea that was spiked with a sedative that knocked him out until the coup had been executed. He woke up in a roboticizer tube. Muffled through the glass, he heard Julian, sprawled horrifically across a desecrated version of King Acorn's throne, cackling: " Now you'll get your dues for coming between myself and my nephew--now you will see that in the end, his loyalties are to me alone--as will be the loyalty of the WORLD."

And the last face he saw, the face of the one who roboticized him, was the face of . . .

He is still warning me. He is still telling me to leave him alone.

But . . . but I can't do that. It would only prove to him that his belief in the death of hope is real. There must be some way to prove . . .

What was that? A tiny creak--detectable only to his enhanced robotic eardrums--from the back of the craft brought him back to the present. The circular doorway between front and back of the craft was open. And no one, not even the vigilant Nayr, was awake.

Sprocket slid from his seat and approached the children sleeping in a pile all over the floor of the craft. Nearest the door was Sally, one leg stretched towards the opening. A shadow was moving behind her. Sprocket charged for it soundlessly.

Snively emerged from the floor in the doorway, crouched predatorily over the princess. His pale complexion and hungry expression transformed him into a vampire. In his bound arms was her filched computer, Nicole, a laser in its side blinking and ready to shoot. And aimed at Sprocket's skull. Devoted rage was all over Snively's face; a vein pulsed against the skin of his neck and forehead, and his eyes were crazed. He would shoot if he had to, in order to fulfill his purpose.

Damn, Sprocket thought, remembering the consequences of the last time he failed to heed Snively's warnings. When will I ever learn? And, remembering Nakuma's words, he began to hum a tune from his childhood while approaching the infuriated human. He put a finger to his lips, a promise that he would not cry an alarm. Snively's resolve began to crumble as tears built in his eyes. He had not expected, apparently, any expression of loyalty from the dog.

For some reason, Snively's breath caught in his throat when the canine noted the cords on his arms had obviously been shredded by a concerted effort at escape. The dog's eyes drank in his face, probed for motives; while those twin pools were keen, they revealed no comprehension. Without once ceasing humming, without gaining a trace of emotion, Sprocket inclined his strong fingers around the bonds . . .

And ripped them off. Snively's jaw dropped; a wheeze of disbelief scrambled out his open lips. Then, Nicole still tight in grip, he jerked back, eyes thinning to hateful slits, and tried to wiggle his way to the rear of the compartment--apparently seeing the dog's act as a sadistic taunt, a dare to escape, now that he had discovered him.

Patiently, and still humming, Sprocket followed. Snively, belly down on the floor like that of a worm as he crawled, froze and craned his neck to face the once-friend who now towered over him. His glare was that of a snake's head at the chopping block--well aware of impending doom, but still willing to thrust every last fiber of his contempt at his executioner. He sniffed hard, perhaps to hide the angry terror of one betrayed.

Sprocket smiled as he hummed. Wryly, sadly, knowingly. He bent over, slowly, gently, for Snively's nerves, ever sensitive, were flirting with panic . . .

And tore away the remaining bonds on the Overlander's legs. Every sparse muscle in the human boy's body tensed; he blinked, inhaled sharply. His mouth formed one mute word: "WHAT?"

Sprocket remained in his disarming crouch, eyes locked on his prisoner's, and seized the kidnapped computer in Snively's hands--like a benevolent schoolteacher urging obedience from a particularly rebellious student. Still humming. For once, Robotnik's Nephew was so stunned by the act of one whom he'd believed had abandoned him that he put up no fight--Nicole slipped right back into the safety of Sprocket's grasp.

The canine stood, still humming, still staring, and backed in soft, methodical steps from the escapist. He rested Nicole on top of a pile of fuel cans in the corner.

A place where a freed prisoner, a prisoner coveting a weapon with a built-in laser, would be easily able to reach it again. Utterly unguarded--a temptation that the strongest man would find irresistible.

He stepped back to the door to the front cockpit, where all of the children still slumbered in peace. Uncertainty roiled in his heart. But he had to give Snively one last chance at honor. "My old friend," he breathed, "I still TRUST you. You can't just crush me like the last egg in the nest."

Snively's brow creased with the pain of one shot in the chest. He understood. To steal Nicole now would be to violate every last grain of hope that his single remnant of inner goodness--his only friend--had in him. Responsibility burdened what strands of purity, as thin and wispy as his hair, remained in him with bitter conflict. For Sprocket had put Snively's fate in his OWN hands, unwilling to side with the human who was his past or the Mobians who were his present, in order to continue avoiding the choice of loyalty that would determine his future. Now the Overlander's own damnation or salvation was his to choose. Like a true best friend, the canine had dealt him what he NEEDED, not what he wanted.

Snively hissed a lingering breath through his teeth. Slowly he nodded an affirmative, not moving from the floor. Fear, deep ponderous fear, was in his eyes.

With a swallow and a fierce effort, Sprocket turned and exited. He closed the door behind him, knelt on the floor protectively near the children in case his trust were to be misguided, and succumbed to nightmares that roiled with his inner chaos. A marvel it was--even robots could dream.

Awakening was a melee of harsh landings, piercing sunlight through the front window, and a smack across the shoulder by the Sadosii. Nayr was cross--as usual. "C'mon, kid, wake up--hell, I didn't know you robot types even slept!" He hoisted a bleary-eyed Sprocket up on both feet, rousing some of the children. Sally, still disconcerted by her upbraiding of the night past, awoke first. Her muzzle curled with irritation at the sight of Sprocket so near her, but she remained silent. "Derek's landed us on Nimbus," Nayr continued, "and he asks that you and I go see your. . . the prisoner . . .for some input on how to check the radar for Rosie's location without attracting any of Robotnik's forces."

Sprocket swallowed hard, his heart grappling for a swift silent prayer. It was time for Snively's verdict--guilty or miraculously innocent. And the part of him that had wanted to abandon the human on the day of the coup already sneered at his deeper desires to believe in the good his friend once had possessed.

Yet today, as it turned out . . .

Miracles were not in such short supply after all.

Snively hid in the shadows of the far back corner . . . and Nicole, precisely as she was the night before, perched complacently on the pile of fuel cans. He had not touched her.

He had stayed.

It was Sally, peering from behind the two adults in the doorway, who noticed first that the human's bonds had been stripped form his limbs. "How did you get untied?" She demanded. At this all of the kids started awake and bustled to join her, sleepy and confused.

Despite the sleep deprivation haunting his features, Snively's smirk crawled wickedly up his face. It drank in, as before, the apprehension of the young ones, the powerlessness of the Acorn child who strove to lead them bravely and selflessly. Mockery flooded his soul. He shrugged and cooed in a voice of false charity, "Oh, I dunno. I guess they were just starting to ITCH." He did not look at Sprocket, apparently careful not to incriminate his friend for hhis act of kindness and faith

"Cleverer little leech than we thought you were, aren't you?" Nayr growled. "Well, we can fix that." He advanced towards the Overlander, pulling more, thicker rope from his utility belt.

Sprocket immediately, transparently interceded. "Wait, please, I'll watch him. At least leave his hands free."

The Sadosii's glare penetrated him like sand through parted fingers, saw into every nobler, and shadier, motivation of the canine's mind. "Why?" He queried flatly.

Sprocket sputtered for words.

It was Sally's next suspicious and deft observation that, ironically, saved her foe's friend. "Nicole!" she exclaimed, darting across the room and grabbing the little computer. "How could I have possibly forgotten you HERE?" Then she spotted Sprocket--and knew. She KNEW. Her gaze was that of an umpire, silently proclaiming to the canine, "STRIKE TWO!"

"I guess," she offered, scathingly, out loud, "it was just another irresponsible act of a 'KID.'" Stormily she parted from the chamber. A new depth of accusation filled the children's eyes as they beheld the dog and Overlander. Nayr's more substantial adult glare again joined that of the young Mobians--only directed at the prisoner, and at his puzzling lack of interest in an escape that could have been a cakewalk. "Seems we've more questions for our young prisoner than I thought we had," he snarled.

Sprocket, and Snively, gulped in unison.

Derek entered then, blissfully unaware of the tension. "What's taking you so long?" he cried.

--------------------------------------

Post 67:

Tristan Palmgren

There was barely enough room on the hover bike for the three of them. They all shared the cramped seat, and had to keep their arms hugged around each other, and even then they had to stay constantly on guard to keep themselves from falling off. Nack was in front, followed by Rosie, and then J�Ran at the rear. Rosie insisted on being the person in the middle, if only to protect J�Ran from Nack's decidedly unsubtle advances. She could just imagine how many lewd remarks she'd be forced to listen to if the echidna had to hug her arms around Nack's chest just to stay on the bike. She didn't have the patience for that, and neither, she suspected, did J�Ran.

They'd been riding over the Great Forest for hours now. The day was nearly over, and night was upon them. The fierce wind whipping all around them made it harder and harder to maintain a grip. Rosie dug her fingers further into Nack's fur. She didn't like to admit this, but for such a mangy-looking outlaw, he was surprisingly well-groomed.

The landscape showed no signs of changing. It was all an indistinguishable green blur beneath them. It was getting harder to see that as sky darkened and the sun set, but soon there would be ample moonlight. Rosie hadn't expected the trip to Nimbus Island to be a quick one, but she had hoped to at least be over the open sea by now. Raising her voice over the wind, she yelled, "How much time is it going to take to get there?"

Nack chortled. "It'll be well into tomorrow afternoon. This ain't exactly a country stroll, you know. I can tell you right now that all this extra mileage is going to cost you. You're overtaxing my beautiful little bike!"

Rosie didn't bother to point out that, when she'd first contacted Nack, he'd called the bike a 'lousy two-bit scrapheap.' There wasn't any point, and it would have taken too much effort to force the words over the wind. "We're going to be out here all night?" she asked. "What about--?"

"Sleep?" Nack finished for her. "Sorry, lady, but there aren't any rest stops on this trip. A shame, too, because you're going to need it when you get out to the island."

This was mildly discouraging. In her youthful and more active years, Rosie could have shrugged off sleep deprivation as readily as any robot could. It was almost a survival skill for a nanny caring for smaller children. She was old, though, and she from experience that she couldn't take as well as she used to. It had been years since she'd had to pull an all-nighter. She sighed bitterly, the noise lost to the howl of the wind. She turned her mind away from it. Something that Nack had said set off her warning bells.

"Why will I need sleep when we reach the island?"

Nack didn't answer for a long time. Ordinarily, Rosie would have just dismissed it as an indication that he didn't really care. Being so close to him, however, she could tell that that wasn't right. With her fingertips, she could feel his muscles tense underneath his folds of fur. His pace of breathing became very slow and deliberate. Then he relaxed, and the corners of his lips curled upwards into a grin. It was a discomfortingly cruel one. "Nanny, what do you think you're going to find out there?"

Rosie told him what Nicole had told her, everything except the hypothetical lost fleet. "I don't think we'll find anything at all," she said. "It's a fool's errand. The island's been reduced to rubble. There's been nothing living on the island since Robotnik's saturation bombing campaign."

Rosie stopped talking when she felt Nack's chest quaking with silent laughter. A chill rippled down her spine.

"What?" she asked. "What is it?"

"You- you mean to say that- you don't know?" Nack was grinning ear-to-ear now, thoroughly enjoying himself at Rosie's expense. "Nanny Woodchuck, you had me fooled for a while. I actually thought you might know what you're doing. Sister, are you ever in for a rude awakening."

"What's there?" Rosie demanded.

"I know you're not exactly fond of me, so you'd better brace yourself for when we do get out to the island, because out there it's going to be like a kaleidoscope. You're going to see me a hundredfold!"

***

Derek must've dozed off somewhere over the northern edges of the Great Forest. The last thing he remembered before darkness overwhelmed him was just staring off into the western horizon and the setting sun.

It seemed as though he had only blinked, but a great of time had clearly passed. The next thing he knew was that the sun had switched horizons - it had jumped from west to east - and that there was no longer solid ground underneath the hover unit. Instead, a shimmering blue sea blanketed the earth. It filled stretched to fill every available corner of the airship's forward window. When Derek took a deep breath, he could even smell the salt water.

He leaned forward in his seat. This was a wonderful sight to wake up to, and it stunned him. It had been several years since he'd seen the sea, or indeed even thought about it. He'd forgotten how pleasant it could look. After the chaos of the day before, this tranquility was idyllic. There was nothing but calm, blank water beneath them. The band of travelers would have been hard-pressed to find any better weather for maritime exploration. Small waves pushed on by a gentle wind rippled below them. With relatively few exceptions, the sky was clear; sharp and blue. The water grew brighter and brighter as it approached the eastern horizon, ending in the crescendo of the solar explosion that was the morning's sunrise. The only clouds in the sky, crisp white streamers as puffy and tangible as cotton, seemed to have been purposely placed there to highlight the ocean's aesthetic beauty. Had he been younger, Derek probably would have let out a whoop and left to go find a fishing rod somewhere. As it was, he just grinned and appreciated what the sight did for him: cleansing, and renewal.

Looking around the cabin, the feeling of youth and renewal the view had given him began to fade as he was faced with those who were truly young. The kids had apparently come back up here at some point during that night, deciding that Derek's company was preferable to that of Sprocket and Snively's. They were all asleep. Someone had scavenged a pile of blankets from the gods alone knew what hidden corner of the airship's tiny cargo hold, and most of them were wrapped up tightly in them. There was no sign of Sprocket.

Nayr sat beside him in the co-pilot's chair. At some point in the night - probably right after he'd noticed that Derek had nodded off - he'd transferred the piloting functions to his console without waking anybody. He steered the ship with a calm and steady hand. Although Derek was immediately uncomfortable knowing that he'd slept right next to a person he was on such uncertain terms with, he was glad that somebody was controlling the ship. Though the autopilot had so far proved reliable, it was dumb. It could only fly in a straight line; it needed a conscious person to actually navigate it. From the fact that they were no longer heading directly north, Derek judged that Nayr had already needed to correct their course more than once. He wondered how long the sadosii had been flying, or if he'd ever even slept.

For a few moments, Derek just sat there and let the rest of his body wake up. He wasn't sure what he should do now that he was up. Even though they were supposedly on the same side now, he still felt very uncomfortable around Nayr. If the head wound wasn't enough to forever earn his suspicion, than the memories of the freshly-killed dragon in the ancient tower certainly was. There was something about the darkness, about the secrecy, in which the sadosii shrouded himself that set his nerves on edge. He was the kind of person that you'd love to have as an ally, but hate to have as an enemy, and the fact that Derek didn't know where he'd fall on the scales when this was all over made him very nervous.

After a long time of doing nothing, though, Derek supposed that he ought to be the one to make the first gesture of civility. He opened his mouth to speak. "How far from the mainland are--"

"You're up," Nayr said matter-of-factly, cutting him off in mid-sentence. "Good. I've got a few things to ask you. Like what the hell did you do to this airship's navigation computer?"

Derek sat there, slack-jawed, his mouth still hanging open from the last word he'd spoken. He wasn't used to the blunt approach. He'd been prepared for civility and pleasantries, but instead had been met with an accusation. It took a few seconds for him to adjust to it. "I hardly touched the navigation system," he said defensively. "What's wrong with it?"

"You mean you didn't do this?"

"Of course I didn't. What's the problem?"

Nayr seemed somewhat unsatisfied by Derek's denial. For a moment, Derek was ready to take that as an insult, but only after studying Nayr's expression, he saw that the sadosii hadn't meant it quite so personally. He was genuinely troubled by something, and it wasn't Derek. "I don't know. The radar and navigation systems are... well, to put it bluntly, are just plain borked. I thought you might have had something to do with it." He looked distracted for a moment, and then reluctantly looked back up at Derek. "I apologize if you thought I was blaming you. I was not. I just don't understand this. That you might have done something wrong was one of the last explanations I could think of."

Derek leaned over the Sadosii�s shoulder, and peered at the navigation displays. Something was indeed definitely wrong. The compass was telling them that they were headed northwest and east simultaneously, while the map display informed them that they were flying over the deepest tropical zone of Downunda, a land mass Derek knew for a fact to be on the opposite side of Mobius.

The radar display was on the fritz, too, but that was less of a loss. Derek didn't even know how the thing worked. At several points in the trip, he'd considered going to get Snively to tell him how the thing worked, but his dislike of the small human had been strong enough to stop him from doing that.

"And here we are, not even in the Bermuda Triangle," Derek said softly. He looked at Nayr. "I can tell you for a fact that I didn't do anything that would cause such a malfunction."

"It is quite troubling," Nayr said. "If it is a systems failure, then it is a massive one. It has even affected the backups and redundancies. However, at least we can be sure that it won't affect us. I switched over to manual guidance as soon as I started having trouble. We're still on a straight course towards Nimbus Island. If the extent of the malfunction is to take the automatic navigation systems offline, then we're safe. Those systems are inconsequential. We can still get where we're going. I just wish I knew what's causing this."

Derek spent a few minutes studying his own navigation console. It seemed that the systems that were most affected were those dependent on the airship's sensor systems.

After a while, Nayr said, "Perhaps your earlier analogy to the Bermuda Triangle was not far off. These waters are not well charted. It's quite possible that we've just stumbled upon some unusual aspect of the local magnetic field. It would explain why the systems most heavily affected are those dependent on the compass."

"Could be," Derek said. "You'd figure, though, that *somebody* would have noticed this before." Well, maybe it had been noticed before. Derek was certainly no maritime expert. This could have been a phenomenon well-recorded and mapped on the sea charts of the Acorn Kingdom, and Derek would still have had no clue that it existed. He hadn't exactly spent most of his leisure time studying maritime geology.

"Well, we're almost upon Nimbus Island. We should wake the others when we arrive. Now that you're awake, though, I could use your help piloting the ship."

Derek transferred some of the steering functions back to his console, and, together, he and Nayr piloted the ship. They worked together better than Derek would have expected. So long as they kept their minds on the task at hand, and didn't mention politics or any of their other past encounters, things went surprisingly smoothly. They traded orders and suggestions every minute or so, and between the two of them, they were able to compensate for the ailing sensors and keep the airship on course. It was a calm and businesslike attitude. Derek may not have liked Nayr - he could never forget the slain dragon - but so long as necessity forced them to work together, he could accept him. He was unsure of Nayr felt the same way, but the Sadosii�s voice was crisp and cool, and no longer overtly hostile.

Before long, they could see a thin stretch of land on the horizon again. Not all of it was the island. Nimbus Island was surprisingly close a jutting section of the mainland - so close, in fact, that they could've probably swum for it if they'd taken a land route. That didn't change the fact that it was still best to approach the island from the air.

"We should be close enough to see it on the camera monitors," Nayr said. "We should use them to scan the area and find a landing site."

The camera monitors mounted on the exterior of the hull were one of the few longer-range sensor systems that remained unaffected by the sweep of malfunctions plaguing the other sensors. They weren't the most efficient of the scanners, but at least they were at least good for attaining a general visual sweep of an area not yet visible to the naked eye. Derek activated one of them, and a blank screen on control panel between him and Nayr flickered to life. It displayed a view of plain water. Derek trained the camera monitor on the land on the horizon, and zoomed it in as far as possible.

He prepared himself for a scene of desolation. From what he'd heard, the saturation bombing of the island hadn't left so much as a tree standing. He wondered just how many bombshell craters he'd be able to count. He peered at the display monitor.

For a long time, he and Nayr were silent.

A few moments later, Derek choked, only then realizing that he had stopped breathing some time ago.

He turned away to cough and wheeze for air. In the few short seconds he had to stare at the interior of the air ship, where normality returned, he managed to convince himself that he had tapped the monitor into the airship's library computer by mistake, and that what he had just seen was an old video recording of some other place. When he tried to correct his mistake, though, he found that the monitor was indeed tapped into a live exterior camera feed.

"I don't understand. Nicole said that- that-" Derek stumbled over his words, and was unable to finish.

There were plenty of bomb craters, all right. Nicole's records had been accurate in that respect. Terrible wounds to the land, old scotch marks, barren and inhospitable wastes; every sign indicated a massive saturation bombing campaign. The island's desecration was still obvious even after all these years.

Such destruction would have sunk Derek's heart under ordinary circumstances, but even still, it was hardly noticeable now. The island's scars were old and inconsequential. The fresh and the new were the most important things now, and the most baffling. On top of the old bomb craters...

"This is madness," Nayr said flatly. "Not even they could do that in so short a time."

Atop the old bomb craters was a city.

***

There was no chance that it could have been a ghost town, or an old remnant of some pre-coup settlement.

For one thing, it wasn't just built by the blast craters, it was built *over* them. Many of the structures covered partially covered half of an old crater, or some remnant of a scorch mark. The dirt and gravel streets had just been paved over all of it. That meant that all of the construction - for each and every one of the buildings and roads and complexes - had taken place long after Robotnik's saturation bombing of the island.

For another, the city was alive.

"Where's Nicole?" Derek asked, his eyes still rooted on the video monitor. He wanted to bang the computer against something. How could she have been so thoroughly wrong? ""We need Nicole up here, now.

Multiple hover vehicles flitted about the city streets, and the two or three of them that were capable of flight danced intricate little patterns in the open air above the town. Derek's first thought was that they had accidentally stumbled upon one of Robotnik's military bases. As far as Derek knew, the tyrant was the only force on the planet who possessed so many hover craft. Once he was able to think a little more clearly, he dismissed the notion. Those hover ships out there were bright and colorful, and, for the most part, slow-moving. Impossibly enough, they were all civilian ships. Not one of them was like another, and it was difficult to find two that even had their hulls painted the same color.

The hover ships weren't the only moving things, either. There were... there were things moving on the ground. They were alive. Even with the camera monitor at full resolution, Derek couldn't see them clearly. He had to wait until the airship got closer before he could see what they were. They were people! More living people then Derek ever thought lived in a single place since before the coup. No, not just people, but Mobians, of all different species. Their individual fur coloring clashed almost as brightly as the hull colors of all the airships. More details became apparent as the airship closed in on the city. It was a busy bustle on the streets down there, and a strong one for being so early in the morning. There were peddlers and street stalls and just ordinary passerby. The only place that Derek could ever recall seeing so many people before was in Mobotropolis itself.

The city all these people surrounded themselves with certainly wasn't as beautiful as the capitol of the old Acorn kingdom. Since Mobotropolis was the only real city Derek had ever been in before, he had nothing else to compare this city to. This city was smaller than Mobotropolis, certainly, but there it seemed were more people crowded into the space. The population density must have been much higher here.

The architecture was also markedly different. There were no gardens or parks anywhere, but this was no fault of the city's builders. Robotnik's bombing campaign had poisoned the soil ages ago, and nothing new could grow here. The closest this town could get to a park were a couple open stretches of barren sand. The buildings themselves were mostly just one- or two-story edifices, and seemed devoted entirely to purpose. There was no room for aesthetics. There looked to be a few small factories, or perhaps refineries or power plants. The city looked like an industrial playground. It was built like a frontier colony, with its efforts directed entirely towards supporting its population and not to luxury. It was a synthesis of the old and the new: the civilization of yesteryear packed into a place that reflected the necessity of survival in this darker modern era.

Within minutes of sighting this city on the camera monitor, they'd grown close enough to see it with plainly through the airship's forward window. The monitor hadn't lied. Derek had secretly been hoping that the sighting had been just a camera malfunction, just because then the world would make a little more sense. Every fact that he'd learned since the coup told him that this city plainly had no right to exist. Robotnik ought to have spotted it years ago. He just couldn't be seeing what he saw.

Derek and Nayr hadn't woken the others yet. They decided to keep this secret to themselves until they could make some sense of it.

"I'd hate to bring up the Bermuda Triangle again," Derek said, "but I just can't think of any other explanation. We must've been thrown back in time... or something like that."

"No," Nayr said sourly. "I know who these people are. I'd expected them to be out here, but I just hadn't thought that they were capable of anything like this. I'm still not sure how they've done it. Well, knowing them, I'm sure that this city won't be a very pleasant place."

Derek glanced sharply at him. His voice almost squeaked when he spoke. "You know who they are?"

Unaware of the koala's agitation, Nayr kept his stare centered on the city as it steadily grew larger before them. His omnipresent scowl deepened. He regarded the city with the same wary expression that he would a dangerous menace -- the same expression that he'd looked at Snively with. His breathing slowed, and he tensed, as though getting ready to pounce. After a few empty moments, he nodded at Derek, though the tension never faded. "Raiders. Bounty hunters, thieves, and con men of every variety."

Derek's breathing starting to slow, dampened by the slow dread creeping through him. His fur prickled. Not even in the worst of times had he had never heard Nayr speak in quite such a dangerous tone of voice before.

The navigation computer crackled and restarted. Derek flinched, startled by the sharp noise. The electronic compass gave a steady whine, and at last turned until it was facing the right direction. The map and radar displays flickered off and then on again. When they came back on, they displayed the correct coordinates. He shook his head to clear it, and turned his attention back to his control console. All of the systems that had been afflicted by the earlier malfunction were now operating perfectly again. Before either of them had a chance to absorb this new information, though, the communication panel began bleating an urgent tone. Somebody was trying to contact them.

Derek just stared at the comm panel. Nayr arched his eyebrow, but otherwise said nothing. After a quiet moment, Derek reached over, and put the message through.

"Well, now!" a boisterous male voice proclaimed through the speakers, "You made it through our little jammin' field so you must not be a robot." There was a trace of an accent that Derek couldn't identify -- he pronounced 'robot' like 'rowbut.'

When neither Derek nor Nayr answered, the speaker went on, "You must be the one, then, who stole one of Warlord Julian's patrol ships. Well, congratulations! That was a pretty mean heist if I say so me'self. We've heard a lot of radio chatter about it. Have you come to Ackten Sea Island to sell that beauty, then, or just to show off? Either way is fine with us, of course. Either way, you've got plenty of prospective buyers, and plenty more people who just plain admire what you did."

Nayr advised, "Answer him. Pretend you know what you're doing, and that you expected this town to be here. Don't let the flattery fool you. This place has plenty of sharks waiting to take advantage of that. Whatever you do, don't tell him what you're really looking for."

Derek wrung his hands nervously, staring at the communication panel. He tapped himself into the channel. "Hello... um, Ackten Sea Island. My business is my own, and I don't think I'm in a mood to share it. Could you just direct me to a landing berth?"

"Landing berth?" The voice guffawed, but there was no malice behind it. The speaker was just having a little fun... or at least that was the appearance he gave. "There's been no landing berths here since before the saturation bombing. You're lucky one of the bosses was even thoughtful enough to stick me in a radio booth to contact you newcomers. We just park where there's open space. Just be sure not to land on anybody, and to lock your doors and maybe leave a guard behind when you go. You wouldn't want anything to happen to your ship while you're away, eh?"

"No, of course not," Derek said weakly. "I'll be on my way, then, and you don't have to bother about me any more. Thank you." He cut the communication channel.

Ackten Sea Island. The name obviously meant the same place that Derek thought of as 'Nimbus Island,' but there was something uncomfortably familiar about it. He had only heard it said by someone whose pronunciation skills were questionable; he wondered if he was spelling the name right in his head.

"That was risky, but effective," Nayr said once the channel was closed. "You shouldn't have thanked him at the end, though. No doubt he's already reported that to his superiors. Like everything else about civilized society, politeness is something that these people know they can take advantage of."

"You've condemned them all awfully quickly," Derek said. "You said yourself that if these are the thieves you think they are, you don't know how they could have built all of this so quickly. Maybe there's something going on here that we're not aware of." He gestured out the window. The crowds of the industrialized streets below were plainly visible. "There are too many people down there. I can't believe all of them are the criminals you say they are. We have to find out how this town evens exists. This is place is an oasis. It's a miracle!"

Sourly, Nayr said, "Your optimism is grating... but I agree that an investigation is warranted. I know that these people are thieves and pirates, but most of them respect power. So long as we don't appear vulnerable, we should be able to walk about openly and question a few of the natives. Perhaps even purchase some supplies. Smugglers drive hard bargains, but it could still be done."

Derek brought the airship around in a slow, looping arc over the city. Metallic industrial complexes and brown dirt-paved roads blurred underneath him. He could see heads crane up to watch their progress as the airship's progress as it tracked across the sky. Now that he could see it up close, the city was smaller than he had imagined, but it was still very, very busy.

"Why don't you find an open landing space," Nayr said. "I'll go wake the others."

"Get Snively, too. I'm going to need him to finally figure out how this damn radar works. I want to see just how many ships are in the air, and if any of them might be carrying Rosie. I also want to see just how much he knows about this place... if anything." Derek grinned. "Boy, are the others in for shock when they step outside."

---------------------------------------------

Post 68:

A.    MistressAli

After the harrowing events of the night before, Snively's eyes weighed heavier than ever. His nerves were fraught; simultaneously exhausted and wired from the anxiety. He sighed a bit, half-lidded eyes darting from his accusers; the young Princess and the black hunter, to his supposed 'savior', Sprocket.

The Princess had noted his bonds were loose; she was sharp-eyed and so very shrewd. Yes, she would be a problem if allowed to mature, and if she continued to proceed in this 'freedom-fighting' vein. Once again he sneered at her, once again he thought of dragging her before his master.

His attention was snapped away from her to the dark man, the hunter, who was pulling a cord of thicker rope between his hands and advancing threateningly. Snively pressed himself back against the cold wall, the scowl still locked on his face; he did not want to be tied again.

And then Sprocket stepped in, his benevolence foolishly apparent. "Wait please, I'll watch him."

What an idiot. The sneer deepened. If Sprocket kept going at this rate they *both* were going to end up tied! Or rather, they'd probably get shot (or decapitated...he shuddered to remember the sword at his throat), because the dog 'bot would have no problem breaking free from ropes.

"Seems we have more questions for our young prisoner than I thought we had," the hunter stepped closer. The rope was still in his hands; he looked like he'd enjoy wrapping it around Snively's throat and throttling him.

Snively growled, pushing his back harder against the wall, but once again, there was an interruption; the white koala stepped over the threshold.

"Hey...what's going on?" He looked between Snively and the hunter, and then silently noted the lack of bindings on Snively's limbs. His eyes swept to Sprocket but he said nothing.

"He got free," the hunter now stood towering over Snively, one hand extended to grab the human's slender wrist, the rope in the other. "I must've made the knots too loose..." Sarcasm clung lightly to the words; doubtfully no one in the cabin believed Snively had worked his way free.

"I don't think he'll be any trouble..." Sprocket once again was incriminating himself; Snively wished he'd shut up. He sighed and cast a glance to Derek, his lip curling. The koala looked torn.

"Well...wait a minute, Nayr...I need his help first..." he paused, eyes scanning the human's face, and apparently not liking what he saw..."then we can tie him again..."

"Fine..." The hunter, 'Nayr', released his grip on Snively's arm; the Overlander clasped it to his chest with an indignant sniff.

He was directed to stand then, and follow the others into the cockpit. So, the koala needed his 'help'. Hahahah. He almost laughed. Like he'd help these assholes with *anything*. Except helping them to a nice existence as a robot, or maybe an early fall into the grave.

The children stood by the side window, and the hedgehog peered out. An "OH WOW!" escaped his lips. Snively was disinterested, it was most likely another silly patch of forest or some such...or no wait, they were supposed to be going to an island. He'd caught snippets of conversation while trying to sleep during the journey yesterday. Most likely the hedgehog hadn't seen the ocean before.

"I need a little help with this radar...Snively..." the koala gestured toward the control panel. With Nayr behind him, Snively had little choice but to go over and peer at the controls, then at the koala. The Mobian had moved a step away; as if afraid Snively had some kind of contagious illness, his expression holding a hint of disgust. Bah. Snively returned a similar look.

"I don't believe I wish to help you...any of you..." he spat, and then, as the kids were still cooing at the window, and Sprocket too had joined them, his mouth agape; Snively turned his gaze out the windshield to see what was so blasted intriguing.

A gasp escaped his lips and he took a step back, azure eyes widening. "What...What is *this*?"

A city. A city lay before them, an expanse of metal buildings, the air thick with dust, the streets laden with Mobians of all sorts. They had touched down in the middle of a marketplace...but this wasn't possible. He closed his eyes tightly, his hands clenched on the armrest of the pilot's chair, trying to shake off remnants of a dream...but this was no dream. He opened his eyes and the city was still there.

Derek's mouth was twisted in a slight smile and Sprocket turned away from the window.

"My goodness..." was all he could seem to manage.

Snively frowned, looking over the streets again. "Where *are* we?!" He demanded. This place was an outrage! Robotnik was going to blow his stack when he found out about this.

But it wouldn't exist for long after that. New craters would replace the old scars on the ground; these refugees would be robots, or dead, and Robotnik would laugh, mad glee returning to his visage.

Snively narrowed his eyes, mocking Derek's smile...Oh yes... he was going to reverse all the damage Sprocket had done... he was going to please Robotnik with both a Princess and a city as presents.

"I don't think where we are is important," the koala said, tapping his finger on the control panel. "But we're looking for somebody, and I think this radar will help us."

Snively chuckled. "Awww...well isn't that too bad, animal. Maybe I don't know how to work it..."

Nayr's voice growled in his ear and Snively cringed. "I suggest you cooperate..."

Sprocket looked about to say something, but wisely shut his mouth.

Snively crossed his arms over his chest, turning away from the windshield to sneer at both Nayr and the koala. "Oh, but I'm telling the truth," he lied. "I *don't* know how to work it. You see this is a different model of hovercraft than I fly." He shrugged in mock apology. "So sorry."

"Who are we looking for?" Sally's young voice cut in. "Rosie? You think she's all the way out here? That isn't possible."

"Your nanny would find a way," Sprocket chastised. "You children are her life."

"I know that," Sally shot back angrily. "Don't act like you know Rosie better than us! But there's no way she could get out here so fast!"

Snively let out a squeaking laugh at the dilemma; oh, this was amusing. He loved to see the distrust between all of them, the anxiety. And now there was another player, a nanny? Some old woman running desperately over the miles to find her missing charges? She was most likely a robot by now. He chuckled, eyes lighting on the Princess's form, glinting with that predatory gleam again. The little Princess would be reuniting with Nanny soon enough.

Or so he hoped. The koala was glaring daggers at him, and the hunter had moved his tall form closer; his presence uncomfortably near. If Snively got out of this alive that is; if he ever made it back to the city. Right now the situation was not proving forgiving...most likely he was going to end up hurt, and if Sprocket kept trying to protect him, he was going to end up hurt too.

Well, let them hurt him, then. Snively was still hostile, and angry, and he did not want to cooperate with these silly animal's whims. Let them stew over the radar and the hapless nanny. He wasn't helping, no sir.

Right now...the radar seemed to be the least of their worries. He caught a glimpse out the windshield. A small group had gathered outside their hovercraft, peering up at the shiny craft. Mobians in all manner of crude attire and weapons holstered in plain view at their sides. This place was filled with scum apparently, pirates, thieves, mercs. Yeah. No surprise the stupid koala had landed them on a place like this.

He eyed the dash, where his pilfered laser pistol sat, gleaming in the sunlight. That was their only protection; that, and the laser rifle, and the sword by the sadosi's side. Great. They were basically going to be slaughtered if this crowd proved aggressive.

Presently there was a rap of knuckles against the door of the craft.

"Nice ride ya got there," someone said faintly through the metal. "Now why dontcha come out and introduce yerselves?"

Sprocket, the koala, and Nayr exchanged tense glances. The children, with the exception of the Princess, looked excited. The fox child was cowering behind the dragon's bulk.

"Um...now what?" The koala asked.

-------------------------------------

Post 69:

Ealain Vangogh

It took Sprocket a long moment to reconcile his upper and lower lip, which had been hanging agape. "My goodness," was his brilliant commentary on the stunning mosaic of color and motion before them. He swallowed hard as another merciless memory fought its way to the surface of his mind. It made him forget his inhibition, and he nudged his pugnacious old friend on the shoulder. Snively growled and jerked away, his resentment still open and festering, but the canine was too enraptured by the past. "God," he chuckled, " you know, this reminds me a lot of the carnival that one summer downtown from your . . ." Then he realized his inappropriate conduct, eyes flickering nervously at the Mobians and Sadosii, who were glaring fiercely back. His voice trailed . . . "Your dad's . . .house . . ."

The Overlander clicked his tongue, also somehow transported to a world far apart from their company--but by anger, not fondness. "Yes, I know, the thought crossed my mind too, you twit. But what I recall best isn't all the pretty little colors and sounds. It's the fact that you ate too much cotton candy and threw up all over me on the ferris wheel--while we were at the very top." Before Sprocket could muster an apology, Robotnik's Nephew turned to their furred company, nostrils curled in disgust, and hissed, "You people seem to fear some secret alliance between this fleabag and I. But you see, the 'cherished past' he recalls is just LADEN with such one-sided 'happy memories.'" His eyes locked hard on the injured Sprocket, conveying a desperate warning, conveying his true motives to protect the canine from condemnation through association with him; the dog sighed wearily in understanding. Snively concluded in a softer tone, "I'd not lose too much sleep over it if I were you."

"You're NOT us," Nayr rumbled, seizing his arm, and throwing Sprocket a dark look as he pulled the two apart. "Now shut up, if you won't help us, while we think of a plan of action."

"Easier said than done," Derek moaned, head cradled in his hands. The children shuffled their feet, poked each other, whispered amongst themselves. It was clear that the sight of their unlikely hero's concern struck them with a fresh flood of fear. Dulcy had begun to cry; Bunnie was trying to console her as well as Antoine, who was beginning to utter his typical oaths of doom and despair.

Sprocket had segregated himself from the others, hands crossed over chest. Ideas flew through his head like a maddened flock of geese. He glanced at the rabbit child, admiring her simple compassion. It was all he had meant to offer, to all of them, but it seemed his every effort was backfiring. Still, if only . . .

Bunnie was making silly remarks to cheer up the dragon child; one of them something along the lines of, "Why, y'all know if you were wearin' mascara, it'd be runnin' like a cheetah on a savannah? Now, now, sugar, I didn't mean to say y'all needed no make-up, no siree, yo' scales are so pretty an' green, they're better'n any costume--"

Costume? COSTUME!! EUREKA!! "I've got it!" he wailed, so abruptly that it made every one of them jump. "Derek, you have some extra robes in that backpack of yours?"

Even Snively's eyebrows rose in skepticism. A question perched oon the koala's lips. "Yeeees?

"Perfect!" His voice lowered to an excited whisper. "These people are a bunch of bounty hunters and cutthroats, right? A bunch of money drinkers?"

"Correct." Now even Nayr was intrigued.

Sprocket wrung his hands with glee. "Then it only seems plausible that if we were to pose as their peers, they'd be more reluctant to kill us right off the bat. Two humans, a robot, and royalty won't go over well among Mobians who've already sold their souls. So I propose that Nayr, Snively, Sally and I disguise ourselves--Nayr and I as your partners, Derek. And Snively and Sally will join the children and pose as our slaves." When the adults, except for the knowledgeable Nayr, frowned, and the children cried out in protest, he proceeded, " I've heard tell of a lucrative market in child industrial labor among this filthy rabble, so if we pose as confident mercenaries with loot to offer, they'll accept us into their ranks and tell us everything we want to know." His eyes grew wide with import as he appraised Derek; he didn't want to speak of the Koala's arms search towards an attack on Robotropolis in front of Snively. The koala nodded slowly. Then Sprocket gestured at the Sadosii. "Nayr, if you would, loosely tie up the children's and Snively's hands to add to the illusion."

"I will NOT submit myself to such a foolish charade!" Snively spat, but Nayr jammed him in the gut with the hilt of his blade and a snarl of "Quiet, you! I don't hear any brighter ideas out of your mouth!"

"And what role might I play in this . . . 'charade?'" Derek asked the canine warily, feeling himself reluctantly reeled in.

Sprocket crossed the room and rested a supportive hand on his shoulder. "Why, chief bounty hunter of our troupe, of course."

The koala gulped hard. "I see," he breathed.

The sunlight itself was excessively intense as they filed out of the craft, every adult and Sally concealed in threadbare robes, all except for their eyes. Each of them looked like meek Afghanistani maidens from a remote point in Overlander history. And occasionally, to their dismay, Nayr or Sprocket would have to shove the children around to enhance the fa�ade of their abuse. Usually, Nayr found the noticeably taller and thinner Snively among the tethered youths and gave him the heartiest of shoves. To Sprocket's disgust, each pretended act of brutality was greeted by telltale whoops and whistles of approval from the crowd of vermin that had gathered. He could hear Snively's low growling even from the human's position at the front of the line of "prisoners;" the Overlander was stalling, eyeing them all with a chin cocked far too haughtily high for a slave. His gaze glittered sleet daggers as the crowd's cries soured to jeers.

"Easy, old boy," the canine murmured down the line at his old friend.

"I hate them. I want them all bloodied and dead," the human youth gritted; his fury was apparent even when muffled by his robes. His fists balled and his knuckles whitened. "And they call me and my uncle the tyrants. Filthy beasts."

"While for once we see eye to eye," the Sadosii whispered in his ear, with another shove,� keep your feelings to yourself."

Presently, a bedraggled, swarthy rat, clad fully in magenta and lime green, his hand still resting on the side of the ship where he had hailed his peculiar welcome, spoke up. "Nice cargo ya got there, gentlemen. I assume you're up for buyers?"

Nayr nudged Derek, who looked more inclined to soil himself than to respond. "Show's on, sport," he mumbled. "Act aloof. Ask to speak to an authority. And don't, for the Love of Lazaar, say please!"

The koala swallowed, feigning his best air of cockiness, and belted out in a voice that only slightly quivered, "That's the plan, but give us a while to rest up. We need to speak to one of your biggest dealers to spar on some prices."

'Fair enough," the rat cackled, buying it, "I can show you to just the person. But I want the pretty little robed one once you're through." His sleazy eyes visually frisked the princess's tiny frame; she glared back undaunted, and Sonic moved defensively to her side.

"Don't be so sure." A deep, throaty snarl, one the koala turned and was astounded to see belonged to Sprocket, quickly injected. The canine was a better actor than he had realized. "We got this one all covered up because she's got . . .she's got a repulsive case of. . .

"Of leprosy," Snively, to their shock, finished, looking at Sprocket as if repaying a favor. Nayr grunted; his grip on the young Overlander's arm loosened with appreciation.

'Yeah," the canine nodded, eyes golden pools of gratitude and relief. "That's what they call it."

"Aw, damnation, what a shame," the rat groaned, but was quickly appeased at the sight of the robed human "slave" who'd spoken up. "Maybe I'd feel better if I had my hands on THIS pretty, slender little laaaady . . ."

"GENTLEMAN!" Snively corrected him with barely-contained rage, stamping his foot. His form trembled and the growl in his throat returned. Nayr grabbed him and shook his arm with another roar of "Shut up!"

The crowd burst into raucous laughter; even Sprocket could not help a chortle, and the boy Sonic was rolling on the cement. The Princess hissed at her friend to stand up at once.

"Hoo, alright, alright, I get the picture!" The vermin who had first greeted them wiped his eyes dry, belly still shaking with giggles. "Nothing like a pack of comic freak shows to persuade my cooperation! Follow me, I'll show you to Nicolette's Lair. She can help you with any trade deals you desire in this city." The crowd seemed to converge on them; almost instantly, they were nearly crushed by colorful, furry bodies and bared, hungry teeth.

"Not so fast," one ferret sneered over the din, her pistol cocked at Dulcy's towering head and ready. "We want our share."

Derek looked ready to vomit, however he tried to maintain his aplomb. Snively and Antoine whimpered and cowered in unison; Sprocket tensed, prepared to lunge at the vermin and snap her throat with his bare fingers, as he had been when Nayr had posed a threat. Beneath robe folds, his lips withdrew to show his fangs.

The rat moved in front of Derek's troupe, arms outstretched proprietarily. "Dibs, mi amigos, I saw these newcomers first." He rapped a long, thin golden steel rod, evidently some sort of ringmaster's cane, on the asphalt, instantly silencing the other mercenaries. It was some sort of peculiar code of conduct among the lawless, some law to honor, this "dibs." For some of them grumbled, some drew their wallets form their belts and counted their coins or inspected their jewels, adjusted their hats or polished their laser pistols and dirtbikes; though they stood back, all were seeking an excuse to stall and eavesdrop on the business of the new traders, who meant nothing more to them than the delicious profit they might pose.

The rat shoved firmly past them, and nodded at Derek and his troupe to follow. "Come on, before they change their minds."

**

They had to cover a great distance of the city to get to their destination. Walking through Nimbus, or what had once been called Nimbus, was like riding a rollercoaster through a fun house, or walking on the inside of a multicolored soursweet lollipop: all of it alluring decadence, neon lights mixed with gold-threaded attire, blaring music, sweet colognes missed with exhaust fumes. Sprocket's heightened robotic senses made his head whirl. He teetered once, as they entered a dark sort of above-ground, glass-encased metro station that was shrouded in rare silence.

"Steady there, my flea-bitten friend," the rat crowed, grabbing his shoulders and pulling him inside with the others. "Can't make any deals if you're passed out!"

Their vermin escort plopped them all down on a wrought iron bench, Sprocket next to Snively, and took Derek and Nayr aside to talk.

The Overlander's eyes filled with fleeting concern as Sprocket again swooned. "Are you alright?" he breathed, impulsively, clutching the dog's arm to steady him.

Sprocket would not look at him. Unwise vulnerability surfaced in his words. "Why do you ask? In fact, why do you care? I thought that ours was a 'one-sided' friendship."

Snively's head wilted like a dead bloom. "You know what I meant. You know why I said it."

Their eyes met. "Do I?" the canine asked. "Do I know ANYTHING about you anymore?"

"You know I warned you. You KNOW I did."

"And you think that excuses you?" Sprocket bolted from his seat like a lit rocket, making distance between them. "Fine, whatever we had when we were kids--you're right, it's gone. And who gives a shi"-

"Good, you're up." Derek rushed to him, interrupting his dark response, and saving him from the torn look that lingered in Snively's gaze. "Because our ringmaster has departed, but our hostess has arrived." He pointed at the metro tracks that sliced the concrete lair in half; at first Sprocket had to squint and activate his night vision to behold that of which the koala was referring. Rather, WHO he was referring to. A long, sleek purple creature, reclined boldly across the tracks, booted and belted like a cowboy, her long muzzle peered over by shrewd, devilish bright eyes. A female weasel.

"Mornin', boys," she purred huskily, tipping her derby at them with one hand and playing with a thick strand of hair from her braid with the other. "The name's Nicolette, but you can call me Nic. What can I do ya for?"

"You look familiar," Derek retorted, responding to the gesture with the hat, while Sprocket tried to swallow the lump of physical attraction in his throat. "What's your surname, lady?"

She smirked and slunk to a standing position. "Rather uncreatively, I confess it's Weasel."

"You've got family?" It was more a statement than a question.

She laughed: a thrilling, low noise that climbed to a chirp. "You must have dealt with my twin brother, Nicholas. He's famous in these parts. And infamous. Don't know anyone with more enemies on this island."

"Who?" Derek was confused.

"Oh, God," Snively moaned from the bench, eyes rolled with an afflicted dose of knowledge and experience regarding the subject. "She means NACK. That little wart on the ass of Greed."

"Yes, that's him!" The koala cleared his throat. "I mean, yeah, I've done some dealings . . .of sorts . . . with your brother." His eyes grew distant with a memory that, it seemed to Sprocket was potently unpleasant. The dog's heart sank.

'Well," the weasel girl strode between the two men, and beckoned Nayr to approach with a long-nailed finger. "That just inspires me all the more to be generous in my dealings with you. A friend of Nack's is a profit of mine. I do so looove to outdo my nasty lil' brother in all things business-related, ya see. What's your flat rate for those kids? I'll get ya some great deals if you pay me interest."

"Not so fast, miss." Derek was on his toes now, one hand risen in protest. "We're looking for some exclusive information, not money. You've been around her e longer than almost anybody, or so we've been told, so you seem like a valuable source. Care to spar?"

The conversation, try though he might to listen, grew hazy to Sprocket. Something else was tugging on his mind--the fact that Snively's corner of the metro station had grown far too quiet--and so had the princess's.

At that very instant, Sonic's brassy shriek resounded through the chamber and cut the conversation between the weasel, koala, and Sadosii short. "Hey, keep your hands off my girl, SNIVELY!"

Sprocket's horrified eyes fell on Snively at the entryway of the metro station, the strings on his arms untethered and wrapped around the neck of his attempted captive, the Princess, whom he had gagged wit h her own robe hood. He was trying to kidnap her. He bit his pouting lip hard as all eyes fell on him; somehow, his body acquired a new savagery with their condemning glares. "Damn," he snarled.

"What was that name?" Nic had begun to back away, wariness and suspicion in her gait.

"Aw, Hellfire!" Nayr thundered, launching at the little Overlander and tearing him from Sally. "You opportunistic little slug, how far did you really think you'd get with her in a place like this?! " He unhooded the ashen-faced Overlander and slapped his cheek hard. 'Fool, you'll pay for your idiocy and treachhery if I have a hand in it!"

Snively's demeanor struggled between looks of fury, frustration ,and terror as he was dragged back to his bench. And, when he beheld Sprocket's destroyed face, excruciating guilt.

As his hood was torn away, Nic recognized precisely who their misbehaving captive really was. And she was furious. She lashed her unusually large laser pistol from her belt and gripped Derek by the neck. "I got suspicious when you called me 'miss,' little boy," she sneered, and turned to Sonic, whose face had frozen wit the horror of his mistaken outcry; he had put his foot in his mouth again, and this time he was sorry for it. "And when I saw you land in a Robotropolis model hovercraft. But if you mean to tell me you really ARE in cahoots with that fat despot's nephew, that's an ethical line even I wouldn't cross!" The pistol wavered as she reconsidered. "Unless . . . unless you cut the crap here and now. These kids are your compatriots, not your slaves, so you haven't got the goods you pretend you've got. But there are other things. There's a price for it all. So tell me what you want . . . and then tell me what you're willing to pay to get it."

---------------------------------------------

Post 70:
Tristan Palmgren

Derek swallowed. The best way to bluff was to not let his inner fear show, and clearly he had already failed at that. He wasn't about to give up the charade yet, though, not while there was so much riding on it. He opened his mouth to shoot back a retort, and deny the weasel's accusations, but he never got past the first syllable. Someone else had other plans.

A shriek of pitiless anger split the air of the metro station.

Sally, free from Snively's grasp, advanced on him. With the concealing hood cast down from her face, there was no reason to maintain the illusion of a leprosy-ridden frame, and she didn't even try. Something inside her had snapped. The sudden pain of Snively's rough handling, and the cold shock of the hood he had tried to gag her with, was enough of a jolt to break even her regal composure.

Her face twisted with fury as she realized what the human had tried to do. She had realized just how helpless she was in the moment he'd tried to take her, and wanted to do everything she could now to reassert herself. Wordless, remorseless hatred escaped her throat, and she was too furious to even bother shaping the noise into words or insults. With his arms effectively restrained by Nayr, there was nothing Snively could do to defend himself. Before anybody else could react, her elbow came up, and she sucker-punched him. Her fist landed squarely in his gut.

The blow had held a surprising amount of force for an eleven-year-old kid; Derek could hear the solid thunk of the flesh-on-flesh impact even from all the way across the chamber. Snively's eyes widened, and, either from the actual force of the blow or just surprise at its speed, he sputtered and dropped to his knees. A sharp gasp of pain was forced out of his lungs, joining Sally's roar of anger in a brief symphony of senseless emotive noises.

Now that Snively was down on his knees - and his face on eye-level with hers - she drew back her hand and prepared to strike him again. Derek acted quickly. He still held the leashes of all the "slaves" in his hand; he yanked back on Sally's tether just in time to stop the second blow from landing. He didn't like to use the faux symbols of ownership, but at this point it was really the only way to prevent more violence. Sally was forced backward by the tug on her tether, and the arm that she had raised to attack now pinwheeled around her to try and keep her balance. She stumbled, and glared at Derek. Then, deciding who the real target of her anger was, turned back around to face Snively. "Don't you ever treat me like I'm cargo!" Her eyes gleamed. She asserted, "I'm a person, not a prize! If you ever try that again, I'll-"

Snively got to his feet. Nayr still held his arms firmly behind his back, but he paid the sadosii no attention. Resentment and fury - yes, real fury - smoldered in his expression. He cut Sally off mid-sentence. "You'll what?" he taunted. "Kill me? Roboticize me? Go ahead and try, Princess! We'll see which of us is the more capable combatant!"

Derek's muscles were tense. He wasn't sure what to do next. Part of him wanted to run over there and halt Sally and Snively's mutual outburst; another wanted to stay rooted to the spot and distract Nicolette from what was happening. They'd done a remarkable job of keeping up the charade of being dastardly slave traders, at least up until a few moments ago; the inertia of the effort still left him with the irrational desire of wanting to keep up the fa�ade. The only thing he knew for sure was that he desperately wanted Sally and Snively to shut up. He wanted to bark the order at them - "Just *shut* up!" - but his vocal cords refused to follow through. Sprocket stood up next to him, coiled like a leopard about to pounce, but the canine seemed similarly unsure of how to react to this.

Nayr grappled with Snively as the human strained against the restraining grip. "Be quiet," he hissed.

Snively had given up all pretense of pretending to temporarily be on Sprocket's side. He glanced at Nicolette. His eyes glinted as he saw a sudden opportunity in the weasel. "You there, slave trader!" he said. "These people aren't what they seem. You can take advantage of them; sell them as slaves, kill them, whatever you want. They can hardly defend themselves. They're not mercenaries or bounty hunters, they're just- mmphh!"

Nayr clamped a strong hand over Snively's jaw, effectively hand-gagging him. Snively growled, and bit down on the Sadosii�s leathery skin in protest. Nayr hardly seemed to notice. Snively fought bitterly against Nayr's grip, quivering and quailing, but he was still helpless against Nayr's superior strength.

After waiting a few moments to ensure that Snively wasn't able to say anything else, Derek turned back to the ringmaster. His shattered thoughts spun around him. Now that the charade was over, he didn't know what would happen next.

Nicolette had raised a hand to cover her lips, but it wasn't enough to hide her supple smile of amusement. When she was sure that everything had calmed down, she lowered her hand, and grinned with unabashed delight. "This is one of the most extraordinary things I've seen in a while," she said. "Why, I should tell you what you want to know right now, just to repay you for the sheer entertainment value. You're obviously not allied with Robotropolis, not with the human treating you like that. But you're not slave traders, either. Beyond that, it doesn't really matter who you are. You *are* people I can take advantage of, and I like that."

Even though their disguises had been foiled, Derek was still uncomfortable slipping back into his old persona. He hated to admit it, but pretending to be a slave trader had almost felt good... for a while. He'd almost believed the disguise for a moment. It had felt assertive. Now that he was himself again, he could feel the old fear starting to slip up the peripherals of his consciousness. Nicolette had just offered to tell them what they wanted just for entertaining her, and that was an interesting fantasy, but it could never be true. She was sure to ask a high price for what they wanted now; hell, at this point, she'd probably ask a high price just to let them leave alive. Derek was afraid - terrified - of what that price would be.

Nayr spoke before Derek had a chance to. "I wouldn't advise listening to this little wart," he said, nodding at Snively. "We're fully capable of defending ourselves. If you don't believe me, then look at the sword on my belt, or the laser pistol my young friend here still has on him."

"Mmm," Nicolette hummed bemusedly, and then, in a manner that gave away the fact that she clearly didn't believe him, said, "I don't doubt it."

She leaned back, and smiled the smile of a person who knew exactly who was control of this situation - and that person was the one wearing a floppy, oversized derby. Derek glared at her.

Common sense told him that she was wrong; it was they who were still in control of the exchange. They outnumbered her by at least three adults, not to mention a gaggle of children who, as recent events had just proved, were fully capable of putting up a fight themselves. Nicolette was all alone in the metro station, cut off from any help or reinforcement. They could take her. Yet... the calculating part of his intellect warned him that that would probably be the worst thing they could do now. Nic undoubtedly had 'friends in high places' in this city's hierarchy. If anything happened to her, this entire town would likely spring upon them like a well-oiled bear trap. They'd be torn apart by the mob of gangsters out there. The end result was that, even though Nic wasn't physically a match for all of them together, she was still firmly in charge here. She could pull enough strings to make them all dance like puppets, if she really wanted.

To say that they had just stepped into some deep shit was an understatement.

Nicolette appeared entirely relaxed. She met Derek's gaze quietly, smugly, and was clearly waiting for him to make the next move. She was judging him. Whatever he did next would likely determine the outcome of the situation, for it was that action that was going to form her first impression of just how vulnerable they were.

Derek considered glancing over to Sprocket for help, but knew that Nic would immediately see through that as a sign of weakness. Besides, he could see Sprocket quite clearly in his peripheral vision, and the canine didn't look like he would be much help. Underneath the shadows of his hood, his jaw was agape, and his bright golden eyes stared at Snively with stark disbelief. His arms hung limply at his side. He was overcome by emotion - betrayal, bitterness, defeat; any or all of the above - and wasn't going to make any initial moves himself. Nayr was busy with Snively, and he didn't dare rely on any of the children. The next move was entirely Derek's. Panic and indecision rose in his throat like bile.

He swallowed it back down. Being awkward and afraid was one thing; being that will there were so many people relying on him was entirely another. He just couldn't do that now. It wasn't an option. His lips curled downward in a scowl, and his fists clenched. He considered exactly what he wanted from Nic, and, more importantly, what he wanted her to think of him. Before he was aware of it, a definite plan had formed in his head, and he stalked over to the door to the metro station.

Taking great effort to demonstrate his physical strength - but not exaggerate it - Derek slammed the door shut. Now they were truly alone. There was no chance anybody else could eavesdrop on them. He turned to face Nicolette. "The first thing I want you to do," he said, leveling a finger at her, "is to keep your mouth latched. No one else will know about what just happened. Clear?"

"Expensive, that," Nicolette cooed. She maintained the aura of a superior, or of someone who had every right to be smug. Derek knew that he was bluffing with his persona, but he had no idea whether Nic was bluffing with hers, too. The only option was to keep duking it out like this, and see which of them would fold first.

"We're not going to let you blackmail us," Derek said, making an effort to be assertive.

Nicolette regarded him for another moment, sizing up him and his companions. "Blackmail? You can call it that if you like... I prefer to call it 'business.' Facts are, gentlemen, I've got some information that could make me a tidy profit, if I chose to reveal it to the right people. If you want me to keep your, shall we say 'alternate identities,' to myself, you're going to have to offer a greater prize than they would. It's called an auction."

"This is madness," Derek said. He decided to try another approach: a decidedly more threatening one. He could feel sweat bead on the fur on his forehead as the words formed on his lips. "You're alone here. You're unarmed. We could kill you right now, and yet you're trying to extort us?"

"How utterly trite of you, to say nothing about barbaric. We do have laws and civilization here at Ackten Sea Island, even if they are," Nicolette paused, and smiled, "somewhat pliable to the laws of capitalism. In any case, I would strongly recommend that you don't pursue that course. I've got quite a few contacts on the outside world who would be quite willing to track you all down and butcher you should you try that. They would have no qualms about killing your children, either. You see, even if I don't have a weapon concealed on my actual person, I never travel without protection."

Derek's threat had backfired on him, like he had been half-expecting it to. He had been prepared for some kind of counter-intimidation, but the savagery of Nic's threat to the children had simply stunned him. He frowned, and twisted his lip, unsure of what to do next.

Nicolette crossed her arms smartly. "Maybe you should just tell me what else you want," she suggested. "Now that we're mutually clear about just who stands on what level, I want to see just how much I can profit from you."

"Just keep your mouth shut about this," Derek said. There was no point in asking Nic for information about the old Royal Navy Airbases now. Either there were no bases, or Nic knew nothing about them. There was absolutely no sense in revealing their presence to her now. "That's all we want. Just stay quiet."

"As I said, that's going to be more expensive than most things," Nicolette said. "Quite a few people would pay to know more about you. Can you do better than they?"

"Name your price," Derek said, resignation heavy on his breath, "and we'll see."

"I could take your stolen hover craft," Nicolette said, pursuing her lips. Derek felt himself begin to sweat again. He couldn't part with that ship. It was the vehicle he planned to use to pick up the rest of Ari's group, and bring them out here. Without it, he was just as stuck as they were. He didn't let his fear show, though. "It's a rather snazzy-looking thing, and, if I change the transponder codes, I could even use it to infiltrate Robotropolis. A very excellent ability. But... no. I don't think I'll be taking your ship. I want an even bigger ante from you."

"Like what?" Derek asked tensely.

Nicolette crossed the room, and leaned nonchalantly against the far wall. "I came here with the expectation of being sold a number of valuable slaves..."

Dread slammed through Derek's heart, traveling right alongside about a decade's worth of adrenaline. His discipline collapsed. A gasp of air escaped his lungs, making a slight squeaking noise as it escaped his throat. Even Sprocket snapped out of his reverie, gaze shifting from Snively to Nic in a panicked instant.

The weasel's expression clouded with definite malice. She waved her hand towards the collection of robed children, who shrank from it as though it emanated a blast of icy air. "...and I intend to still leave with some."

"Absolutely not," Derek interjected, shaken.

"You don't have very much choice about the matter, my boy," she said, grinning. "You realize, of course, that if I were to reveal who you really were to my contacts in the world outside, you would all be captured and sold as slaves anyhow? Surely, sacrificing one or two of your number to the markets is preferable to each and every one of you, yes?"

Nayr seemed relatively unaffected by what was going on. He looked as though he had expected an incident like this. He thrust Snively forward, keeping his hand tightly clamped over the human's mouth. "If you want a slave, you can take this one," Nayr offered. "He's all yours."

Snively's eyes widened, and he gagged against Nayr's hand. He kicked the sadosii in the shins, but, again, Nayr took no notice of it.

"Unacceptable," Nicolette said. "If that human were to show his face out there, he'd be lynched by a mob long before anybody could get him to the market and make a profit out of him. Besides, by the looks of it, you'd all be happy enough to get rid of him anyway. You don't exactly seem fond of each other. That would hardly be enough of a price to pay for my silence, hmm?"

"You don't have to take them," Derek said. "We'll pay anything else: the ship, our weapons-"

Nicolette ignored Derek's protests. She mused, "What about the dragon child? Her kind is very rare nowadays. Very large and powerful in adulthood, I understand. They have enough strength to take down whole airships. If raised roughly enough, and taught loyalty to her owner, she'd become a very powerful fighter slave. A bodyguard, maybe, or an assassin. Or, for more entertainment value, a thrall."

Dulcy quivered at the mention of her name, and trembled as each new possibility for her future was raised. At last, browbeaten by helpless terror, she just sat down and began to cry. Nic rolled her eyes, as if disgusted by such weakness. "Or perhaps not," she said caustically. She moved further down towards the other children.

Derek's vocal cords were frozen. He could only stand still and watch as these horrors were perpetrated. Dulcy still cried openly. Bunnie ducked forward to comfort her.

Nicolette approached the ranks of the children, and walked back and forth as if to examine them. Most of them shrank back from her, as if the evil she exuded had become a physically repellant force, but two of them stood their ground: Sally and Sonic. Derek worried that their bravery would only make them more viable targets. "What about these ones?" Nicolette asked no one in particular. She reached down and, before Sally could draw back, pinched the fur on her cheek, as if testing its strength. Sally swept an arm an arm out to knock the offending hand away, but Nicolette had already withdrawn it. Sally stood stock-still. Her tiny fists were balled up so tightly the whiteness of her knuckles was visible even through her fur.

"And what's your name, little girl?" Nic asked. "Are you happy with your life? Would you like another?" Derek was still terrified, but he could hardly hide his relief when he learned that Nic didn't know who Sally really was. When Snively had called Sally 'Princess' earlier, Nic must not have believed him, or had thought that it was supposed to be an insult.

"Go away!" Sally said firmly, giving Nicolette a rough shove.

Nic remained unmoved. She smirked. "That's quite an apt decision. I expect you wouldn't be much pleased by the life I offer you anyway." She turned back to face Derek.

"What did you say your name was, koala?" she asked.

"Derek," he answered. He didn't have any reason to hide it.

"Very well, Derek. I've made up my mind. I know who I want you to sell me as a slave... in exchange for my silence."

"We won't let you have any of them," Derek said quickly, decisively. The way Nic had so idly reduced Dulcy to tears. Before now, he'd thought that the only creature capable of inflicting such pain without remorse was Robotnik himself. He was sorry to stand corrected. "We'll kill you first." If he was bluffing this time, then he'd managed to fool even himself.

"So you would consign all of your friends to death, rather than just one or two of them to the markets?" Nic shook her head. "Not the choice I would've expected from anybody with a shred of practicality... but it is your decision. I'd suggest you consider it carefully, though."

Derek's hand froze at the holster of his laser pistol. On the periphery of his hearing, he could hear the cries and shouts of the street vendors outside, and the crowds surrounding them. How quickly would those cries be turned to bloodthirsty shrieks? He found himself wishing that Nimbus Island had been as deserted as Nicole's records had promised. This was quickly becoming a fate worse than even roboticization. And, for the time being, it rested on his head. Sprocket remained silent, although he looked like he was preparing for some kind of action. Nayr was still occupied with Snively.

"Oh, don't worry, I wouldn't be so wicked as to take one of your children," Nicolette said, moving towards him. "None of them interest me, anyway. Not even the dragon, as weak as she is."

Derek's heart quailed with relief once he realized that the Knothole children were safe, but he was still nearly petrified. "Then what *do* you what?" he asked.

Nicolette stepped up to him, until they were looking at each other almost eye-to-eye. She was slightly taller than he was. Without warning, she drew up her right hand and encircled it around the front half of his neck, almost in a chokehold.

He realized what she was going to say an instant before she actually said it. His heart froze again.

"Derek, my price is you."

The chilling sensation in his heart kept out to his veins, and then the rest of his body. His blood ran thick with ice. All eyes in the room - except for Dulcy's - reverted towards them. "What?"

She stepped around him, sizing him up. Her hand stayed looped around his neck like a collar. His muscles were tense enough to absolutely immobilize him. "You look like an able-bodied worker. People like you go for even higher prices than children. You don't need to be raised or fed much. You're ready to work as you are. You can't fool me with your little act, either - you're submissive, and wouldn't be able to rebel on your own. Your owners will like that quality."

Derek, wanting for all the world to fight, bite back, but he couldn't bring his body to do it. He was terrified of the consequences should he even try. So this was what Dulcy must've felt like.

"We won't let you take him, either," Sprocket said quietly.

"This isn't your decision, mutt," Nicolette said venomously. "What do you say, Derek? It would be a noble deed. You would let yourself be sold to the slave markets in exchange for letting the children and your other companions go free. Are you willing to pay the ultimate price? To pay for their safety with your own blood? ...It would be the supreme bargain."

Intellectually, Derek knew that it was a better alternative than letting Nicolette take one of the children. Personally - selfishly - it was the worst future he could possibly imagine. But... Nicolette was wrong about his inability to rebel. He was a Freedom Fighter. Rebelling was his ideology. If he did sell himself to the market to save his friends here, he would be able to break free later, let slip his bonds and continue his mission. It was the better idea. He started to nod an affirmative to Nicolette's offer, but her voice interrupted him before he could finish the first head motion.

"It won't be so bad, Derek, just sixteen hours of whips and labor every day. Why, if you're lucky, you'll even have a life expectancy of another five or ten years. More than you'd get out in the forest, alone and unprotected."

"Just be sensible about this, Nic," Sprocket said. "Let him go. It doesn't have to be like this. You don't need to sell one of us. I'm quite sure we can come up with some other deal, and still leave this room as friends."

"What if I don't want to?" Nicolette asked impishly, still behind Derek.

"Then we'll have to take drastic measures to stop you," he said calmly. Coming from a cool, serene voice like Sprocket's, the threat seemed more real than even a loaded laser rifle would have. Even still, it didn't deter Nicolette.

"I'm so sorry you feel that way," she said fiercely, "because I've made up my mind already." Suddenly, her entire arm was around Derek's neck, elbow right beneath his chin. Before he could even make a reflex reaction--

"Grrkk!" Nicolette's arm constricted tightly around Derek's neck, constricting his air supply. There was a surprising amount of strength in her grip. He was drawn off-balance. She used this opportunity to snake her hand down to his pistol holster, draw the weapon, and tap the barrel against his temple. A collective gasp came from the children once they saw the pistol come to bear against their misbegotten hero. Nayr and Sprocket tensed when they saw the weapon. Even Snively ceased struggling, if only to watch and see what the outcome of this would be.

Derek cursed himself for forgetting about the weapon, or how easily accessible it had been from Nicolette's position. Another amateurish mistake on his part. Too late to do anything about it now, though. The feel of the cold pistol barrel against his fur was like an anathema to his muscles. He didn't dare move while he could feel it clamped there.

"Gentlemen," Nic said, whirling to face the other two adults and using Derek's body as a shield should any of them try to fire on her, "I believe you're all familiar with the drill. Nobody moves, or this little boy will soon be missing his head." She began inching towards the door. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you. I hope you'll return to Ackten Sea Island at some point in the future, so we can make another deal, but next time try to bring a little less idealism..."

Sprocket took one step forward, and then another. Underneath the cloaked hood, hiss face betrayed no expression

"Are you deaf? I said stand back--"

Sprocket reached upward, and withdrew his hood. The cloth pooled around the neck of his robe.

...The metal surface of his forehead gleamed in the light.

Derek could feel Nicolette's shock from here. For a moment, her grip on the pistol faltered, and she involuntarily began to turn it towards Sprocket. Her arm was controlled by panic, and a blind desire to shoot the metallic monstrosity still advancing on her.

"You're a rob--"

Derek's cry of anger was insistent enough to even escape the chokehold grip on his throat. There was but an instant to take advantage of her momentary lapse of attention with the pistol. His vision was tinged red, mostly from a lack of oxygen, but partially from sheer emotion. He wasn't going to give her enough time to train the pistol on Sprocket. There was no time to think, only to hate, and to give his hatred expression. He drew his elbow back, and smashed it into her gut.

Nicolette gasped with the force of the blow. Her weapon hand trembled and released. The pistol went spinning across the floor.

Without wasting another instant, Derek shook himself loose of her chokehold. As an afterthought, he struck her in the face. Then Sprocket was upon them, and he raised his metal arm like a club, and bashed it into the back of Nicolette's skull to finish the deed.

Nicolette fell limply to the ground, knocked out cold.

Though he was still conscious, Derek fell to the ground right beside her, gasping for air. He hadn't been able to breathe at all underneath the chokehold, and now that the moment of panic had passed, the oxygen deprivation finally caught up with him. His vision went black except for bright stars, swimming before his eyes. When it returned, the gasping had turned to retching. Embarrassing... but at least it was dry. He saw Sprocket standing above him, offering a hand, but he had to pause another moment or two to completely catch his breath before accepting it. He was hauled back to his feet.

"That was extraordinarily unfortunate," Sprocket said. Once he was sure that Derek was able to stand on his own, he bent down to examine Nicolette's prone body, unable to halt his compassion even for this obvious criminal. She was still breathing, though the bruise swelling on the back of her head was visible through her coat of fur. Sprocket had hit her with enough force to cause a concussion, which would likely keep her deep in slumber for the next couple hours. "She probably does have those 'friends in high places.' When they figure out she's missing, or she wakes up and tells them, we'd better be clear of this city."

"Well, we're alone here, but this is still too much of a public place to just leave her and hope no one finds her," Nayr said. He passed Snively to Sprocket. The little human had exhausted himself against the Sadosii�s strength, and could put little effort into struggling. Sprocket kept him firmly contained. Nayr directed, "Hold him. Hey, kid, gimme a hand lifting here. Let's hide her on top of those storage lockers."

Derek's head still spun as he lifted. In the past few moments, he'd nearly been murdered, lost the children, given himself away to a lifetime of slavery, and inflicted serious bodily harm on another living creature... however despicable that creature had been. Maybe others could cope with this, but he couldn't. He felt lost. He worked in silence, shoving the weasel's slumbering body into an empty corner of the metro station, ashamed of what he was doing.

At least the kids, for the most part, could take care of themselves. Sally was busy organizing the other children while the adults did their own work, and she helped calm Dulcy, too. Within moments, the kids who'd lost their disguises were already beginning to refit them, ready to venture out into the foreign city once again.

Which meant Sprocket had only Snively to pay attention to.

"We nearly lost everything because of you," Sprocket said. His voice was serene; underlying emotions absolutely implacable. Accusations rolled calmly off of a silver tongue. "You tried to kidnap Sally, and then you sold us out to Nicolette."

"I'm trying to survive, you fool," Snively hissed. His voice was whisper soft in the gloom; his words meant for Sprocket alone. "It's something that you don't know very much about."

"I suppose you think the only things I do know about are things like sympathy, and forgiveness?"

"I don't give a damn what you know about!" Snively's voice rose sharply.

As if he hadn't heard Snively, Sprocket went on, "I'm not sure if I know about those things any more, Snively. I gave you every chance I could. I believed you. And I don't know if I can forgive you again."

The words struck Snively like a thunderbolt. For some reason, he looked as though he hadn't been prepared to hear them.

"I can tell you one thing I do know," Sprocket said. His voice was absolutely mechanical. It was entirely artificial; he clearly didn't want his human friend to know anything about what he was feeling this instant. "You won't get a chance to do that again. Before we go outside again, your hands will be tied behind your back, and you'll be gagged, too."

Snively was quiet for a moment. Then he fixed Sprocket with a long, hard stare. "Do what you must," he snarled, and, for now, that was the end of the matter.

Nayr and Derek joined them a moment later. Derek's face was still a bright, cherry red from the exertion of his temporary career as a hostage. He rubbed his neck idly, soothing away the strains of the chokehold.

"I think she'll be out for at least another two hours," Nayr said, "but beyond that, I'm not sure of anything. That means that we only have that long to scout out the rest of the city - if we even want to do that - and get whatever information we can before getting back to the hover unit." He glanced back and forth between Derek and Sprocket. "So how do you two propose to accomplish this?"

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Post 71:

Ealain Vangogh

The canine who had been called Sprocket was gone. Obliterated. His moral convictions had been shattered hand-in-hand with the last remnant of who he had once been--his best friend. His very name, now, seemed a laughable fa�ade for the nomad, the stranger, that he really was.

So why this numbness? Why this dull gray plain in his heart where jutting peaks and plunging valleys of emotion should be? Truly, this must be what a robot felt like. For the first time in his life, yes, truly indeed, Sprocket Apollo was a slave.

They were gathered like wasps hording the sweet honeycomb, driving out the bees of cowardice and regret, in the center of the station, all around Derek and Nayr. But Sprocket still had Snively in his grasp; like an anvil to a sinking ship, that human boy was. The canine felt himself dragging their hostage over to the circle; Nayr hailed him. "How do you propose we do that?" the dark-skinned human queried flatly, apparently with regards to regaining the hovercraft.

Snively's glinting eyes betrayed a desire to express a decisively negative opinion, but he was repressed by some unseen force; it squeezed all the air from his chest in a slow, bitter exhale. Underbreath, he spat a passionate curse.

Sprocket read his thoughts. "What makes you think," he retorted grimly to the koala and sadosii, "that it's even still there?"

A considerable pause followed, revealing that neither of the adults had even contemplated the issue; Derek rubbed his temples, teeth gritted under his lips. But then Nayr breathed, "Even I occasionally indulge in that peculiar thing you call 'Hope,' robot-dog."

Sprocket only blinked at him, deadpan. "I see." Something about his mechanical tone of voice, something metallic and dead that had arisen in it, made Robotnik's nephew, still in his grasp, shiver. Perhaps Snively was remembering how similar the tone sounded to that of Sprocket's few years of mindless servitude...by HIS hands. Perhaps it haunted him.

Perhaps.

But what did that matter now, if Snively never acted on those tiny twitches of his conscience? If he embraced the hideous status quo like a sweet lover? Did unexpressed feelings really matter at all?

Sprocket continued to speak, if only to silence the downward-spiraling of his mind toward madness. "Yes, I see. It only seems logical that we search our bounty huntress here for a communication device . . and take advantage of her family ties."

Derek's smile of relief was all but unbridled. "You seem to be cooking up another plan."

"I think I know where you're going with this." Sally stepped boldly forward, shying only slightly at Snively's near presence, then remembering her spiritual power over him; her demeanor grew momentarily haughty, and finally regained intellectual confidence, as she spoke. One hand brushed over her auburn locks as she spoke, increasingly with her enthusiasm. "You want us to signal Nack on Nicolette's telecommunicator--pretending we're HER. He should know as much about this place as his sister, only, like she herself put it, he has fewer friends in high places who'll protect him. We can use his knowledge to our advantage--how to get information about Nimbus's past AND how to get out of here safely. He might even be able to get us alternate transportation if our hovercraft's been filched. And when he comes, he'll bring Rosie, whom we can better protect when she's near us." She paused for a breath, arms triumphantly planted on hips. "I like it. I approve."

Sprocket smiled softly. "I see I've regained your favor and confidence."

A long, scrutinizing look from the child. Her eyes flickered in the direction of the canine's once-friend. "He DID cry," she murmured, as if this explained her every cause of mercy, as if trying to convey that she had pardoned Snively, that to pardon Sprocket was such an easier task. And that he should do the same.

He would have realized it was noble were his own wounds not so fresh.

Abruptly he cleared his throat and pushed a listless Snively into Derek's grasp; the koala stiffened as if handed a stinking bag of dung, or perhaps a snake recoiling for the strike. Yet he didn't protest; Nic, in Nayr's possession, was a far more formidable hostage to be reckoned with, as his tender neck well remembered.

Sprocket stooped over the fallen form of Nicolette, hands respectfully but thoroughly probing her belt, derby, and finally, her boots, for devices. The search came to a fruitful halt inside her left boot, where a handheld telecommunicator bleeped readily. He grinned. "I found it, and now I . . ." But something tugged at his still-worn psyche. Oh no. Not this again. No no no no . . . Blue the screen was, blue and dirty, blue like the eyes of his personal Judas . . . so blue and dirty and futile . . .

"I . . . I . . ." The surface was covered in oil smudges, dirty and filmed and somehow sinister. Blood had once made his skin crawl; now the black liquid, his new lifeflow, did the same for his metallic plates. He had to make it clean. He HAD to. "No matter how much I . . . always so damned much filth . . ." He rose and fled to the other side of the room with the machine, wiping its screen wildly with the sleeve of his costume robe.

His mind meandered and lulled: They always fall right through my grasp, right over the cliff, every one that I try to . . . "Always, always . . ." Sally followed him, puzzlement, as well as the other children, trailing close behind her.

Derek, nearby, stirred in shock at the utterance of a curse from the lips of the typically sainted canine, and the obvious distress that wracked his frame. "Sprocket, are you. . . ?" The words trailed like windblown sand from his voice.

"Pull yourself together, you ninnie!" Nayr snarled, his dearth of compassion evident; momentarily abandoning his unconscious charge, he swept across the room and seized Sprocket's shoulders. "Come on, now, put that down. Blast you, do it NOW!" A tyrannical parent, he shook the canine's trembling hands until the device clattered to the ground of the station.

Sprocket whimpered like a tortured creature, something in his most secret, sacred Self having been shredded. Too many times it had been a target as the result of his forgiving soul.

He was no longer himself, after all.

The canine smacked the Sadosii�s arms away, as easily as if the formidable warrior were a gnat, and dove for the communicator again. His fangs were bared; Rotor and Antoine retreated behind Sonic and Sally, and Dulcy's weeping loudened once more. Nayr recovered quickly from the backhand and pursued, elbowing the dog in the chest, grabbing the device, and holding it beyond his reach, beyond his weakening struggles. "Snap out of it, boy!" he seethed. "Now is NOT the time for a psychotic episode!"

"But it's dirty!" Sprocket's voice had slid up an octave, and down several decibels; it was a child's terrified whisper. "Don't you ever get sick of it? It's FILTH, I tell you!" Still he flailed his arms at the communicator he'd found, weakly, insubstantially, eyes agape, as he rocked back and forth on his haunches. "Dammit, dammit, don't you ever get sick of it? Give the thing HERE!"

Even Sonic was horrified. "What's wrong with him?" The tiniest crack in the brassy child's voice belied his severe discomfort, shattered his casual front.

Only Snively's face seemed to bear any true understanding of Sprocket's sudden breakdown; it was shrouded in a peculiar gambit of emotions, but none of them, oddly enough, could be recognized as hatred.

Derek had watched intently; while he could not discern the cause of the rare outburst, if anyone understood the self-destructive power of fear, responsibility, and ambivalent feelings, it was him. He forgot himself and let go of Snively, racing to the canine's side. "Sprocket, here," his voice was soothing, "let me have it, you've done enough good today."

"It's never enough," the canine choked, head in hands, though he acquiesced.

No one heard Sally's sorrowful agreement. "Don't I know it," she whispered, glaring at the ground.

Nayr pulled away in disgust. "I've never heard such self-pitying drivel . . ."

"You leave him alone." A new voice injected, familiar and yet foreign, high and thin and yet firm. Snively, unattended, had joined them, standing over the canine; his was an air bizarrely possessive, protective of the dog who had moments ago become his enemy, divulging a greater confusion as to his own affections than he would have preferred to admit. His arms were lashed over his skinny chest, a pokerface on his visage, but oh how those eyes still gleamed. "You worthless louse, you haven't got a clue. Not a CLUE."

"As to what?" The sadosii was fingering his sword, whetting his lips hungrily. "I seem to recall you hating this creature's guts five seconds ago. Perhaps I can refresh your . . ."

Snively set his jaw, nodding at Sprocket's slowly calming form. "I wish him free of you," he interrupted, "all of you stupid crusaders and your dangerous gambling lives, and I wish him free of me; but the fool CARES too much, you see--he's too good for ALL of us, and we've all poisoned him, haven't we, with promises we couldn't keep?" He sneered at Sally; what remnants of loyalty to Sprocket he'd retained leaked from him and were replaced with his old cocoon of cynicism. "Be careful, little Princess Selfish, that your promises towards YOUR friends, your dreams of 'freedom' and 'joy,' don't destroy THEM someday, too. You see, my dear, I have learned that it is EASIER than it seems." He glanced won at his once-friend and a fleeting compassion came into his eyes and left again, leaving his face even emptier to the beholder. "To every task, or triumph, or sin, little Princess, there is more than there seems." The human pointed an index finger at her, as if to continue, for she was mesmerized.

Nayr had him in an armlock in seconds. But this time Snively didn't flinch, he just kept smirking at Sally, who seemed to have been struck with true horror. For the statement, despite its source, was truly profound.

A brittle, shrieking giggle tumbled out the Overlander captive's lips. "More than there seems," he half-snickered, half-sang, near what appeared to be his own nervous breakdown.

"I think it's time you were bound and gagged," the Sadosii hissed, shuddering at the sound in spite of himself. The task was quickly accomplished and Snively was placed, still giggling behind his gag, on the bench where he had first been. This time, however, he was immobile.

Sprocket did not move. For an hour after that, he sat forlorn on the floor, giving no acknowledgement as to his friend's final defense on his behalf, or to the bustling that ensued in order to implement his plan. Derek decided to leave the canine to his catatonia for the moment.

Sprocket listened to sporadic bursts in the conversation as Derek, with the deft skill of the walrus child, Rotor, powered and sent a text message to Nack's airbike computer; it was one of hundreds on Nicolette's list of default contacts. With Nayr's occasional injections of verbal grit, it sounded almost convincingly like Nic's speech pattern.

An immediate response flashed onto the screen, which had become a sleek aquamarine sort of dot matrix by Sprocket's compulsive cleansing. "Give me a land mark, sis; I need proof it's you."

Derek repeated the demand to the group in an urgent voice, neckhairs bristled with anxiety.

Nayr nodded at Snively. "How about his head?" He awaited the usual hasty protest from Sprocket; for the first time, the canine was silent. Far from indifferent, but silent nonetheless. Sonic, however, sniggered; the other children, though they really thought the notion horrifying, did the same. All except for Sally, who had another idea poised for words. "Her derby. Put it outside the door of the station. Tell him to look for it; no one will steal it."

"But they'll know something's wrong." Sprocket felt his lips move and air escape them; apparently he was the one talking. But it wasn't . . . his voice. "It will be less than an hour before they come in here and rip us to pieces." His tone softened. "By the way, I'm sorry for . . .I was just a little . . . It won't happen again."

Inexplicably, this provoked another flow of muffled giggles from Snively. The human's eyes were half-hooded and drowsy, his body wilted and spent, but his laughter crackled with hateful electricity. He was difficult to ignore, and fearsome to behold, for what if his contempt were contagious?

Derek cleared his throat to regain the attention of his comrades. "Sprocket, forget it. Just . . forget it--worse things have been done since the year 3224." His eyes flickered angrily in Snively's direction, deriving another peal of remorseless giggles. He rose his voice to drown the noise. "As for your concern, that's just a risk we'll have to take."

Sprocket bit his lip and conceded. But it was at that very moment that he realized a sacrifice, on his part, was imminent. For his enhanced robotic hearing already told him of a gathering crowd approaching the door.

And the koala typed in Nack's intended target along with the reassurance of Nic's presence. Not exactly a lie, he mused, glancing at her incoherent form on the ground. He decided, however, that he wouldn't mention the detail that her tongue was lulling out the side of her mouth. Nayr deposited the floppy hat outside the door and locked it; his face was tight with anxiety. "There certainly are a lot of them headed this way," he murmured. "A LOT."

Derek spoke nothing. The children huddled and began forming Plan B's and C's which Sprocket sorrowfully realized to be futile.

Remarkable brevity of time passed before a sleek skinny form, supple as a shadow and be-derbied, cracked open the metro door. Nack twirled his sister's hat in circles with one hand, the smoke form his cigarette pouring the nasty odor of smoke into the station and sending a shiver of Robotropolis through them all. "Okay, sis, what's the lowdown? It's not like I'm a free man all hours of the day, ya know!"

His words wheezed away like a kettle having spent all its steam; the cigarette fell unattended to the floor. Smugness filled his face: the same sense of control which had earlier sent Derek into a silent panic. "Well, I'll be laughing all the way to the bank tonight!" he crowed. "You're the kids Nannie Woodchuck's bent on finding!" He slapped his thighs. "Aren't I just the king of Fortune?" As he stepped inside, a skulking praying mantis, he reached for Sally's cheek and pinched it in a manner identical to his sister's. This time, she bit it; he hooted a laugh and jerked away. "Your Majesty!" The hunter bowed and flourished. His mockery, considering the situation, was unbearably cruel. And then his eyes trailed to the bound form of Snively. His breathing nearly ceased. "And the infamous Pretty Boy of tyrants! Never thought I'd see the two of you within a five-mile radius of each other! All right, Nic, I'm hooked, where are ya?"

Derek and Nayr stepped into the light, and the weasel's every muscle tensed. "Say, I remember you, kid. I thought we had an understanding--you got what you wanted and I didn't blow your head off. So what's the big idea . . ."

"Your sister is otherwise occupied." Nayr hoisted Nic's slumbering form ramrod straight. "Thanks to us, and our robot."

Sprocket frowned at the dehumanization of his role in their company; nevertheless, feeling it somehow appropriate, he rose and gestured a stiff greeting to the weasel, his chrome finish flashing. Nack's eyebrows rose and he blew a low whistle as Nayr continued. "Unless you'd prefer to join her, we request your further assistance."

Derek didn't await the hunter's reply, for something more terrifying had dawned on him. Rosie was nowhere to be found. Ice coated his heart. "Where's Rosie?" he demanded.

Nack shrugged, starting to back towards the door. "Ah, well, I lost her . . .and a very interesting mutual friend of ours . . . when we landed." He inspected his fingernails, a futile and concealing act since he was wearing his worn leather gloves. Sally gasped, Antoine wailed, and Sonic growled.

With this Sprocket burst back to life. "WHAT?" He darted forward and rapped a fist against the concrete wall of the station; the sound roared in their ears and made them all, particularly the bounty hunter, jump. Pearly, glistening fangs were bared for the second time that day. But this time, the dog's index finger was inclined towards Nack, at the end of which was his readily-whirring laser. Questions fired out his lips like bullets. "How are we to take your word for that? You got here awfully quickly to have suddenly 'lost' our friend. How did you lose her? Where can we find her? You'd better verify all of that, weasel, or I'll be easily persuaded to snap your spine with my bare hands!"

Derek's mouth opened, but was followed by no sound. He would have known this aggression for a charade only hours ago, but for the canine's brief mental deterioration at the sight of the telecommunicator--and the knowledge of his friend's repeated betrayals. Now, the koala had no way of knowing whether any moral fiber remained in Sprocket. It was, however, a gamble worth taking.

"You can think? And talk? Hellfire, that's beautiful freakishness!" Nack removed his derby and mussed his sweat-caked hair, cackling. "Listen, tin-can: If you kill me, you won't have ANY answers to those questions, vague or otherwise. So just cool your jets."

Sprocket moved towards him; something in his eyes had tinged a redder hue. But Nayr seized the robot's arm, shook his head once, sharply, and spoke in his most booming voice. "And if we don't kill you. . .?"

"You HAVE met my sister, haven't you? I operate on a similar principle. Barter. Trade. Moooolah." He licked his lips. "Everything you gave Nicolette during your little transaction belongs to me, and I'll get you to the old files of the island." He wriggled his fingers in anticipation; that gold fang gleamed brighter, defying the dank lighting in the metro station. "That IS what you want, eh, koala? More worthless historical documents to organize your little refugee coalition?"

It was at this point that Sprocket realized the entire Fate of the mission pivoted in his friends' favor. Hope had emerged again. For Nack was unaware that no transaction whatsoever had occurred before he had bludgeoned Nic's skull. Still he pretended frustration; the day had wizened him to the dangers of expressing inner intentions overtly.

"This," Bunnie piped in from her spot beside Dulcy, "is beginning to sound like a broken record!" Thankfully it only added to the illusion that Nic had gained something substantial, some treasure Nack would enjoy.

"Deal," Derek spat. "We're desperate."

The weasel snorted. "You must be. So what's it gonna be in return?"

"You get us some transportation out of this sector of the city. Then you help us find Rosie again. After that, we'll talk further transactions."

"Decent idea." Nack swaggered up to his sister, who was beginning to groan and stir. He stroked her hair; were he not grinning so broadly, it would seem to be true tenderness. "Oh, Nic, dear twin of mine, how I've outdone you this time!" He put an arm around Derek's shoulder, one hand on belt where his pistol rested. "How 'bout a downpayment? Got any more paper money this time around, my fine young hero?"

Nayr grabbed him by the shoulders and shoved him out the door. "Be quick about it!" And the weasel was gone to his task.

It had grown remarkably empty and quiet on the streets outside.

It was then, in that tomb of silence, that Derek noticed yet another absence from the company. "Where's Sprocket?"

"He has gone to give himself to death for your safety, so that you might buy time in your escape from this place."

It was woman's voice, not that of Nicolette, deep and anchored by calm strength. With that, J'Ran, Nack's "interesting acquaintance," materialized as if by magic in all her red, visored glory in the center of their conspiratory circle. A rumbling noise and a soft green glow followed her entrance. Derek gawked at her openly; even Nayr blinked in shock. "If you do not believe me, ask the small hairless one, for he watched your companion depart." Behind his gag, Snively grunted, head cocked to one side, face ashen.

"How do you know this?" Sally, as was becoming the standard, was the first to recover from the shock.

The echidna smiled serenely. "I see many things that others cannot, and I have seen the deeds of a well-meaning soul. I am traveling with your beloved nannie, child; the weasel creature who is our tourguide in this strange city was separated from us in a crowd of street vendors, but we were well aware of--indeed elated by--his destination. Rosie will be relieved to know you are safe. And if all goes as planned," she cast a pensive glance out the door, "Sprocket will not lose his life this day." She tossed an airy gesture over her shoulder, strolling boldly outside. "Follow me, now--quickly. We have a rendezvous."

Sprocket had gotten outside the station before Nack's obnoxious display was half finished. Remembering Nic's horror at the sight of him had made him aware that he could be an excellent diversion for his friends; they could hitch a ride with the weasels and escape a bloody fate.

Only Snively had seen him go. He had not even stirred. He had only looked helpless and small as Sprocket slid past him. But at least he hadn't drawn attention to the dog's sacrificial efforts, to which Derek would have, out of selflessness, undoubtedly objected.

At the time when Sprocket had left the metro, thousands of colorful and seedy "pedestrians" had congested the alleyway, murmuring about "the derby." But as soon as he removed his robes and let the sparse sunlight dance off his metallic skin, every one of them, glaring or grinning depending on whether they saw profit in abusing him, or merely revenge on his master's regime, followed.

By the time he was back where their hovercraft had landed--and was indeed missing--the mob had encircled him entirely, jeering, spitting, and laughing. He forced himself to reconcile with his inevitable fate, clinging to the remembrance of his comrades' now-ensured safety. As rats, ferrets, bats and opossums emerged fro mall angels around him and struck out for his limbs, his mind went back to the pine tree in the Overlands where his life had really begun, to his first and last true friend. Perhaps his efforts at cleansing would finally have a lasting impact. Perhaps Snively would remember him.

Then came the roaring rush of air above him, making them all draw away. Sprocket looked up; there in the air above him was Derek's hovercraft, and the pilot, her head cocked out the window, was Rosie.

"Get in, boy!" she cried. "Death doesn't crave you yet!" Sprocket couldn't believe his eyes, but he conceded, firing up his rockets and propelling himself straight up into the air. The crowd shrieked with rage as he climbed in the passenger window. "If I'm correct," the indomitable old lady breathed, hands firmly gripping the steering, sending them zipping away from the mob, "our friend J'Ran has initiated a reunion."

Nack returned to the metro station only to find it in chaos, every hunter, refugee and captive in their strange band bustling to follow the lovely echidna girl he'd been toting. The koala, dragging a drowsy Nic in his arms, seemed especially anxious. He was murmuring concerns and questions in the ear of that stern sadosii, who either nodding or shook his head in reply. The children were hailed then, by Derek, and for once they were sterling about obeying his orders; they scrambled up behind him, and this time each one was heavily-robed.

Nack chortled, not to be taken aback. "What the . . . well, hey, sweetcheeks, never thought I'd see you again!" He darted up to the line of hastily preparing crusaders. "You sure made my end of the bargain easier."

J'ran's face was deadpan. "I wish I could reciprocate your glee, or comprehend what 'bargain' you speak of, Nack. I had, however, anticipated that with promise of gain, you would be willing and able to provide us hasty transportation to the landing site of these people's hovercraft."

The weasel frowned. "Why there? You aiming to get your hide skinned?"

"Just trust me."

The weasel sighed and nodded. "Okay, dame, you got it. One extremely speedy deluxe jet-propelled groundcraft is waiting outside the door with your name on it."

He strode to the back of the line to double-check the presence of each member of his cargo recalling Rosie's pledge of unlimited payment, and hoping that perhaps he'd find her alive somewhere on the Island to honor her word. While he didn't count an old woman's survival likely on Ackten, profit was always worth a try.

Each child and adult boarded the titanic silver groundcar he'd bartered from a nearby tradesman--if one considered shooting the dealer in the leg a form of "barter." The engines inside hummed and blew chilly dry air against their fur like a jet plane's overbearing air conditioning system, making them shiver.

Snively lingered sulkily at the back of the line, attempting to break free. "Oh, no you don't!" The weasel grabbed him by the shirt collar and shoved him inside. "Let's see what dear old uncle will pay to see his precious boy safely home in Robo-town." He shoved the human into the back seat. For the moment, they were alone; Derek and Nayr were trying to translate the myriad of buttons and controls in the front of the car. Nack rose to attend to their confusion.

He wasn't paying too much attention to the one bound member of the group when he was finally caught off guard. Snively jerked out a foot as the hunter passed, and Nack nearly tripped over it. "Hot damn, Pretty Boy!" The weasel grunted. "Watch yer appendages, wouldja?"

The Overlander's voice rose in a muffled, wordless whine; he stamped that stretched foot as would a child on the verge of a tantrum. His eyes widened with import, and he nodded sharply at his bonds.

Nack, a swindler at heart, immediately understood. "You've got something valuable to tell me, haven't ya?" His voice diminished to a gleeful whisper as he slid to the floor and brought his razor crooked tooth up to the side of Snively's gag. It was soon shredded, despite Snively's many nervous squirmings. Nack had been congenial to maintain Snively's confidence, but his muzzle curled into a snarl as his eyes locked on the traitor's. "Alright, human trash. I hate you and yours for the hell you've made, but I always relish a profit. Talk."

Snively sneered.

---------------------------------

Post 72:
J.R. Grant

J�Ran sat far off from most of those in the vessel. It was true she should be trying to fulfill her assignment, but something most unusual had thrown her off: and it wasn't the rushed exit from Nimbus Island. It was the fact that the single historical record of a successful genocide was trying to fly their ship. A sadosii. With their peaceful nature and low life expectancy, the mages had no trouble picking off the incredibly huge civilization of the sadosii with help from the dragons... and in the final blow, the echidnas. The echidnas were foolish to trust the mages. They just turned around and attempted to wipe them off the face of Mobius as well. They used their heads and escaped. Unlike the sadosii... the last of the sadosii was killed by the "radical" mages several millennia before, actually fifteen years before she was born.

Nayr glanced over at her, his dark features hiding any expression he had. His eyes narrowed, then abruptly turned away toward Derek.

"I have some business I must attend to." Nayr said grimly.

"But what about--" Derek started. Nayr continued.

"I don't know how to make this blasted hunk of metal to work!!" Nayr snapped, then calmed down, trying to control his temper. "They just don't make these machines intuitively obvious anymore. If you're in such a hurry, ask the weasel. He's somewhere in back with the others." With that, Nayr walked over towards J�Ran, not paying attention to the koala's next course of action. J�Ran looked away.

"What a pleasant surprise..." Nayr said in a low, soft voice. "Ms. T'kol Maga." J'ran's eyes widened with the mention of her last names.

"How do you know me?" she asked. Nayr couldn't have looked more surprised. His jaw dropped to the floor.

"W-What?! For Cayne's sake, I was around when the echidnas created Maga! You were the head scientist there." Nayr answered harshly with a small amount of cockiness in his voice. J�Ran looked puzzled.

"Explain. According to all the sources I've heard, the last of the sadosii was killed off 15 years before even I was born. How can you even exist?" she replied. Nayr looked very impatient, but went on.

"Well, this year would be the year 3230 I believe. I'm not very good with the years, it's been far too long. That's neither here nor there. I assume that you know some of the history of the war from your knowledge of my race. The reason behind my survival involves backtracking to the war... You see, I had done something different than the other sadosii had done, other than my friend, Miranda. We took our minute telepathic and telekinetic abilities and used them. Constantly. Their constant use strengthened them to the point where we could sense impending danger and get away. It worked and lasted us until the end of the first of the Great Wars: The War of the Jewels. The mages still knew about us, though. They still wanted our death and they found where we were hiding in the great beyond. They sent legions of dragons after us. Being the fastest thing on Mobius I picked up Miranda and ran. I dodged the fire and the occasional breath of ice from the protectors with Miranda's commands..." Nayr trailed off, his eyes becoming watery. He then continued, his voice trembling very slightly. "Until a mage appeared at the edge of a cliff ahead of us. She gave us the most haunting grin and took control of Miranda. Miranda hit me in the face, causing me to trip and fall. I let go of her upon impact and she slid off the edge of the cliff. I-I used my telekinesis to pull her back up and set her down. B-but th-th-the m-mage..." Nayr closed his eyes: anger, rage and love apparent in his complexion. "...she held out her hand and a light surrounded Miranda, uttering the words 'To The Void with you'. I-I t-tried to grab h-her hands... She uttered the words 'Ih lieps u.' (OOC: Sadosii for "I love you", I'll try and get more info about language origins some other time, as it's not a future version of english, but rather a future version of German)before s-she... vanished into thin air." Nayr's expression changed to a deep hatred, tears still coming down his face. "I dashed at the mage. She tried to use the same attack on me, but I used telekinesis to block it and kicked her off the cliff. She hovered there smiling. She told me that there were no sadosii that could do that and that she admired that. She then handed me this necklace." Nayr said, pulling a necklace with a green stone hanging at the end. "She said 'This necklace will grant whatever your deepest desire is at the time'. I put it on, with the desire that my race would survive. I thought that it would bring Miranda back. I didn't believe her to be gone, a stubborn sort of self-denial. The stone took my desire and granted me immortality instead... the shattering of my last hopes at the revival of my race: a blessing and curse I'm stuck with to this day. It seems she spread the word that she killed me. I did not know that... but in a way she did. Opposite extremes generally yield similar results. I then swore I would kill all the mages and dragons on Mobius, until I learned that at least the dragons have changed over the past 9 millennia."

"I... I'm sorry." J�Ran replied, looking down.

"Well you should be happy I told you." Nayr replied, his old personality returning. "The only reason I did is so you can vouch for me whenever these Mobians give me trash about being 'unfeeling' or 'touchy'. After having enough happen to me that would drive anyone to suicide and then gain immortality, my suppression of feelings is the only reason I'm still sane at all. Light bulb-head actually said something earlier about there being something beyond what your eyes can observe. It's true." Nayr then began to walk away towards the back of the ship...

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Post 73:

A.    MistressAli

So this was what drowning was like. The tightness in the chest, the panic. Bubbles riding upwards like false hopes, even as the depths pulled at floating feet, urging the black to set in faster, to flush the life out.

He wanted to breathe, but it was impossible now. He'd tied the weight around his own ankles and thrown himself from the bridge.

But they made him. They made him commit this suicide. Jumping in hopes to survive?

No, he wasn't drowning anymore. He was burning now, maybe in hell, or other such places where horrid souls like his were supposed to go. Or wasn't it the soulless, did he lack a soul? How could something with no soul feel agony then? How could this pain touch beyond mortal flesh and beyond intellect, what did it touch, if not a soul? So, he must have a soul, and it was scorching him with guilt to see Sprocket throwing a fit, a tantrum of madness.

Snively just wanted to let the air out of his lungs and float to the surface, free from the drowning sadness and pain, free from the burning guilt. He wanted to tilt his head back in the cool water and relish the air swirling into his lungs...washing it all away. He just wanted to lay his head down and close those treacherous, icy eyes and sleep awhile, a short death for a while. He wanted to die, to sleep, just long enough to wake and find this all smoothed over and faded, like nightmares that fled at the sight of light.

He felt himself slipping into some odd space when he locked eyes with the princess, at one angle finding amusement in her horror, like usual, but at the other perspective he saw himself, cracked and crazed and broken, so fucking broken without glue to piece it together. He saw the pathetic little thing he'd become, or had always been. He giggled and Nayr wasted no time in silencing him and binding him tightly.

He giggled still more at Sprocket's state, and the plight they'd landed in. The natives were coming? And they would question the hat that was lain outside? So Nayr, and Sprocket, and Derek, and the children, and Snively all might die? But not by drowning or fire, maybe it would be quicker, maybe he wouldn't suffer anymore.

He had to laugh at that too. The thought of the pain ending *was* rather humorous.

But maybe they wouldn't all die. Sprocket had slipped away to martyr himself. The fool. The idiot. Snively couldn't speak. Had his mouth been ungagged, he wasn't sure if he would have used his tongue even then. Sprocket would be ripped apart quickly and cleanly, or maybe shot, he wouldn't have to struggle between worlds, he wouldn't have to face Snively's inevitable betrayals over and over. And Snively wouldn't have to face the pain of Sprocket's quiet disapproval, the memories the dog's presence stirred, or the warm affection in those eyes... It hurt to have to care, to have someone who cared for him.

"Ey, pasty face...I'm likin' the prospect of a profit, but time is money too..."

A gangly purple wrist was thrust before Snively's eyes, lost in reverie, revealing a watch with a minute hand that seemed to move unusually fast.

He blinked and snapped out of the trance, fixing his cold stare on the weasel. Nack was scowling.

"Yes..." Snively knew better than to offer up the goods fronthand. He'd have to dangle them like a piece of meat in front of a hungry lion. "That's what I'm counting on. A man who wants to make a profit? You do, don't you?"

Nack narrowed his eyes, his fang glinting. "Out with it already."

Snively leaned forward, his voice a whisper; secrecy was of the utmost importance. His pointed nose pressed against the weasel's. Nack's breath smelled of something spicy, meat perhaps. It made Snively's stomach lurch. He hadn't eaten in quite a while. A day at least? He couldn't even remember the last meal he had...there had been the liquor when he'd fixed Sprocket's head wound, but no food. He tried to ignore it, focusing a crafty glance on the weasel. "I could tell you of the wealth of Robotropolis...but I'm sure you already know... Anything your greedy little heart desires."

Nack withdrew, looking haughty.

"Weapons? Historical artifacts? Ships, handheld computers?" Snively gave a meaningful pause... "Money...?"

"Yehr..." the weasel grunted. "And as soon as I get within city limits I'm shot or thrown into the roboticizer. No deal, rat face. You insult me."

He started to stand, pushing his derby indignantly back down over his eyes. "Nah...I think I'll take what this lot has instead..." He smiled as he glanced towards the front of the ship.

"I don't intend to insult you, and I don't care about having you captured. That certainly wouldn't get me what I want."

Nack crossed his arms over his chest, silent, but considering.

Snively let the meat dangle a bit closer to those hungry jaws. "I'll get you anything you want..." He smirked darkly. "Within reason, that is, no asking for rule over Robotropolis. There's no need to even involve Robotnik." (He certainly did not want Uncle getting wind of his being held captive, no need to include the humiliating details)

Nack stepped closer, his arms resting on the large belt riding low on his slender hips. "And what's *yer* price? *Within reason*?"

Snively's lips curled in a smile. "I just want back to the city."

"That's all." The weasel's eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"With prisoners."

Nack chuckled softly. "I may be a good fighter, but I don't think I can wrassle up *all* them friends of yours." He shook his head. "Sour deal...and I prefer sweet things..."

The weasel's ears caught conversation then, a mummering between the female echidna...he shivered at her voice, and the black hunter dude. That guy was a regular badass customer and Nack had no desire to tangle with him. No...he preferred easy swindles, mind over matter, though he probably *could* beat Nayr when it came down to it. He jus' didn't feel like it.

Snively was losing the lion's attention, it was sensing other prey, much better feeding than the meat he was tauntingly holding over its head. "Not all of them," he growled. "Just the little girl...Sally. And the white one."

The Princess and the thief...Robotnik would be pleased.

Nack's silence stretched even longer, then he scratched his hair under the derby and smirked. "It's a long trip to Robo-town. No...I think I'll see what goodies they have..."

He startled at the sound of footsteps headed their way. He grabbed for the gag around Snively's neck, aiming to retie it, but Snively jerked his head back, hissing. "They haven't got-" he started before Nack's fingers latched upon the gag again.

Quickly, roughly, the two shredded ends of Snively's gag were knotted together, pulling the gag considerably tighter than it'd originally been. The small human whimpered in protest, struggling against his bonds, and then the footsteps were upon them, revealing their source as Nayr.

The tall warrior cast a suspicious glare at Nack. "What's taking you so long? We could use a little input up here in the front." He looked at Snively distastefully. "And I don't think you should be back here with *him*."

"Yeah, the little worm chewed through his gag somehow!" Nayr's sharp eyes had seen the damaged gag and its hastily tied knot. "He started sproutin' insults at me, so I tied his little hatch closed again." The weasel spat down at Snively's boots.

The human's eyes widened in fury, and he kicked out at Nack, but it was weak and didn't connect. Nayr beckoned sternly and he and Nack disappeared into the front of the ship.

Derek looked uncomfortable as Nack leaned over his shoulder, aiming a gloved finger and giving instructions in that spicy-breathed voice. The koala soon had the ship airborne and heading towards their lovely Robotroplian model hovercraft, which, not surprisingly, was missing. He hovered above the spot in bemusement for a long moment, trying to ignore the enraged yelling and throwing of random vegetables, old shoes, and scrap pieces of metal from the crowd below.

He and Nayr peered down through the windshield, but the body of Sprocket did not appear to be among their hands.

"Perhaps Sprocket made it to the hovercraft," Sally suggested. "He is a robot after all. I'm sure he can withstand some damage."

"As long as it ain't to the head..." Bunnie said meekly, looking towards the wall, her floppy ears drooping onto her skull. Sally patted her shoulder.

"Bunnie, I told you, he understands and forgives you. You were just trying to protect us, there's nothing dishonorable in that!"

Nack found them both rather annoying. Derek moved their ship away from the crowd and the site of the missing hovercraft, wondering where Sprocket, the craft, and Rosie could have all got to? Perhaps Sprocket *was* flying the ship, looking for Rosie, or for them? Why had he left anyway? Derek was angry at Sprocket's rashness, no doubt the dog had been so shattered by his betrayal that he felt he had nothing to lose by throwing his life away.

The weasel lingered, leaning over his seat, but Nack's gaze wasn't on him. He was eyeing Bunnie and Sally, his eyes resting solely on that auburn haired spitfire. Nack replayed Snively's offer in his head...just nab the girl and this white furred dofus and then...sweet pickings from Robotropolis...

Very tempting.

Very dangerous.

And what else had that little bald fiend said?... "They haven't got...?" He eyed the crew keenly. Derek and the others did not seem to be loaded up with expensive weaponry. They had come to the island in the hovercraft they were searching for, so no, that ship was not part of Nicolette's deal.

They could be laden with coin, or most likely, some kind of silly papers to aid in the Freedom Fighter movement, but those could be valuable in certain circles.

They haven't got?

Perhaps they didn't have anything of value, besides a few laser weapons, a ship, and a handful of possible child laborers...all of which Nack wouldn't mind trading for coin, but certainly not the payoff he was hoping for. Perhaps they hadn't gotten anything from his sister. How disappointing...and how outrageous that this stinking lot try and *swindle* Nack the Weasel!!

But Snively's word was tainted; the filth just wanted back to kissing his Uncle's boots, or some shit like that. He'd lie, for certain. Nack, for once, wasn't quite sure who to believe, but maybe he would ride with it...just stick it out and see how much profit he could scrape together.

Besides, there was still that offer from Rosie...unlimited payment. She certainly wouldn't pay that with Sally missing, now would she?

He chuckled into Derek's ear, making the koala jerk the steering stick nervously.

If that old bag Rosie was still alive... He scanned the skies, and the ground, but saw no sign of the Robotroplian patrol ship OR the frail old nanny, so maybe that deal was as good as *dead*.

"So...uh...Miss J�Ran..." Derek turned his head, timidly addressing the echidna. "Any idea of where Rosie might be hiding around here? Cause I really think we've about outstayed our welcome."

She smiled calmly. "Of course..."

---------------------------------------------

Post 74:

Dominic Smith

(This post veers into a subplot and some events from the past. It doesn�t have much to do with the rest of the story...yet. Just so no one is confused! :D)

I'm not writing this for you, I want to make that clear right from the start. Its not that I don't care far from it if anything I care too much. No the reason its not for you is far more cold and brutal, so much so I'm not even sure I'll be able to write it...you...don't...exist. There I've done it perhaps the dots were unnecessary but they made it easier for me.

If not for you then who you may well ask, to whom am I writing this for? The answer my dear friend is me. I know, I know how dare I, how can I sit here and write this, knowing that in spite of its importance it will never be read by another's eyes. Believe me my friend I ask myself that same question over and over again as I write. I guess it's a way of getting things out, relieving the pressure that even now threatens to overwhelm me. I can't let it though I have too much to do and I know that I would be unable to live with myself if I let them down, who are them of which I speak, you'll have to wait and see. So here I am alone, writing this testament, much like others write a diary or a love letter they will never send. Maybe one day I'll have the courage to voice that which I will disclose to you my friend but for now may these words serve as my weapon, may they strengthen and protect me until I am ready to stand or fall and so with conviction I continue to type.

It's ok you don't need to go back and read that last part again, or make a silent criticism about my inability to maintain continuity. I am indeed typing this up but whether it is on computer or typewriter is something I leave to you my friend.

*

"We live together, we act upon, and react to, one another; but always and in all circumstances we are by ourselves. The martyrs go hand in hand into the arena; they are crucified alone. Embraced, the lovers desperately try to fuse their insulated ecstasies into a single self-transcendence; in vane. By its very nature every embodied sprit is doomed to suffer and enjoy in solitude. Sensations, feelings, insights, fancies – all these are private and, except through symbols and at second hand, incommunicable. We can pool information about experiences, but never the experiences themselves. From family to nation, every human group is a society of island universes.

Most island universes are sufficiently like one another to permit of inferential understanding or even of mutual empathy or 'feeling into.' Thus, remembering our own bereavements and humiliations, we can condole with others in analogous circumstances, we can put ourselves (always, of course, in a slightly Pickwickian sense) in their places. But in certain cases communication between universes is incomplete or even non-existent. The mind is its own place, and the places inhabited by the insane and the exceptionally gifted are so different from the places where ordinary men and women live, that there is little or no common ground of memory to serve as a basis for understanding or fellow feeling. Words are uttered, but fail to enlighten. The things and events to which the symbols refer belong to mutually exclusive realms of experience.

To see ourselves as others see us is a most salutary gift. Hardly less important is the capacity to see others as they see themselves. But what if these others belong to a different spices and inhabit a radically alien universe? For example, how can the sane get to know what it actually feels like to be mad? Or, short of being born again as a visionary, a medium or musical genius, how can we ever visit the worlds which, to Blake, to Swedenborg, to Johann Sebastian Bech, were home? And how can a man at the limits of endomorphy and viscerotonia or, except within certain circumscribed areas, share the feelings of one who stands at the limits of mesomorphy and somatotonia? To the unmitigated behaviorist such questions, I suppose, are meaningless. But for those who theoretically believe what in practice they know to be true - namely, that there is an inside to experience as well as an outside - the problems posed are real problems, all the more grave for being, some completely insoluble, some soluble only in exceptional circumstances and by methods not available to everyone. Thus, it seems virtually certain that I shall never know what it feels like to be Sir John Falstaff or Joe Louis. On the other hand, it had always seemed to me possible that, through hypnosis, for example, or autohypnosis, by means of systematic meditation, or else by taking the appropriate drug, I might so change my ordinary mode of consciousness as to be able to know, from the inside, what the visionary, the medium, even the mystic were talking about."

-'The Doors of Perception' by Aldous Huxley.

*

I feel I should tell you something, something that may seem quite trivial compared to what is to come but it is none the less significant. You see I went to quickly, heedlessly and without any real plan to ease the burden inside me. Imagine a pipe that carries steam, now take the image farther, imagine that this pipe has been blocked and unless dealt with it will in time it will explode. Yet rather than turn the valve with caution and reserve I made a hole in it, I hit it with sledgehammer to let some of the steam out, alas I was burned. Foolish I was to attempt such a thing for you see I had rushed to the problem without first getting a perspective, my writing had been erratic and painful like broken glass rubbed against the skin. It's gone now though, all of it. I had to start again to make a rational account for the raw emotion only enflamed the wounds rather than soothe the pain as I had hopped, but then is that not the essence of high site my friend?

I don't think it would be proper to start right at the beginning as even though it would indeed enable me to give the fullest account possible so much of it will be meaningless to you my friend and I refuse on principle to subject you to all but the most necessary of my mindless and eccentric waffling.

I was studying psychology at Mobotropolis's most pristine University, Greenwood was its name and in all honesty my friend I had no real reason being there. Greenwood was by all standards an elitist institution reserved for royalty and the wealthiest of the upper class. I was lucky my mother was close friends with Ben who unless you lived under a rock would know is the captain of the Royal Guard. That's correct is, Ben is still alive you know and while that news is joyful I'm afraid I must delay farther explanation until later, but rest assured my friend everything will be made clear in time.

I wish I could say my time there had been pleasant, but that would contradict realty or in blunter words be a lie and while what I have to say may anger and disturb you, perhaps even lead you to hate me I promise not to widen that golf of opinion by lying to you, besides sometimes my friend truth is stranger than fiction. My pears mocked me because of my poor background and many of them went even farther to accuse me of coming from inferior breading. I ignored them and focused on my studies, after all I was going to become a physiologist, I was going to make a difference. However things never turn out the way we hope they will, I don't think anyone saw the coup coming some may claim they had a strange feeling something bad was going to happen but I don't believe them. I think it far more likely their just making a pathetic attempt to ease their guilty conscience that like everyone one else they allowed this to happen through ignorance, we were blind, except it, see what you can learn from it and move on. I know these words may seem hash to you my friend but I grow so weary of those relentless assaults on the truth because my friend there are things in this world that are bigger than you, bigger than me, bigger than everyone and one of those things is the truth.

I try not to think about what happened during the coup, the destruction, death and fear that gripped the city back then. Through all the chaos and panic I somehow found myself in on of the shelters, they were built during the Great War deep underground to be used if the fighting ever reached the city itself. It was fortunate that only the senior members of the Royal Guard knew of their existence or Robotnik would without doubt have sent his Swatbots in to retrieve us. We lasted a few months down there before our food stocks started to run out, water was not a problem since we had a supply pumped in from a spring, in fact I found out later the shelter had been built their with the spring in mind.

There were 17 others beside me in the shelter and while I was civil I never really connected with any of them as I have with you my friend and when the food ran out they all seemed to have different ideas about what should be done. Some favored the idea that someone be sent to the surface to seek out food stores while the rest remained inside. Others, thinking our discovery was inevitable suggested we flee to the Great Mountains through the endless tunnels and sewer systems. One delusional soul even thought it best we turn ourselves in and pledge our loyalty to Robotnik in the vain hope that we might be spared roboticization. I proposed we seek out the other shelters, for they may well have food to spare, after all the situation was only temporary, Robotnik would be defeated by the Royal Guard once they had a chance to regroup, or so I foolishly thought at the time.

After fierce debating we did indeed set out to find the other shelters on the agreement that we flee to the Great Mountains if we did not find anything substantial. The first 4 shelters we came across were empty their stores ravished, as for the fifth, well my friend that was a quite different story. Unlike the others the door was locked and so we knew that there was at least one person inside however upon knocking we got no answer. We assumed they were afraid we were Robotnik's forces and so great effort was made to convince them otherwise shouting and knocking the melody to songs on the door, anything to prove we were not robots. It worked and after a time the door was indeed opened by a small boy, he was very young maybe 6 or 7. His species was chipmunk and he stared at us with pale glazed eyes more apprehensive than curious and certainly not relieved. He refused to talk to us and barded his teeth when we tried to enter, after a few minutes though 4 of us myself included had to push past him, although he did manage to scratch and bite us as we went through the door. All of us had a fairly good idea of what we'd find, that smell was not something that could be anything else when you thought about it and it was the only reason to explain why no one else had come to the door.

22, that's how many bodies there were my friend, we can never be sure exactly what happened down there although judging from the laser burns on the walls and the discarded rifles next to a few of the bodies there had been some sort of brake down probably because the food had ran out and they could not reach a decision about what to do but unlike our situation guns had added an unstable element to the discussions. What was most disturbing though was that around half of the bodies had been partly eaten. I don't hold it against the boy; in fact I praise him for his courage, he did what he had to do in order to survive but at a terrible cost. The experience had left him severely traumatized, I tried to help him, I had the training but nothing I had learnt or studied was of any use, the coup had opened my eyes to a whole new level of physiological harm.

After the fifth shelter we stumbled upon a group of Mobians that lifted our sprits from the depths of despair, my friend they were members of the Royal Guard. Apparently they were on the same mission we were and they were in fact the reason we found the first four shelters empty. After this exchange of information they took us to a huge underground cavern that they had made their temporary base of operations. There were fifty-nine civilians and twenty-six Royal Guard personal of varying ranks, later another 8 civilians joined us when the same squad of Royal Guard that found us went back out to check the last of the shelters. It was no unstoppable army that protected us but for the first time in months we felt safe.

The relief ended quickly and in desperation I searched through the people looking for friends and family, as did the others from my shelter, but alas luck was not on my side. If my friend you want to look at the glass half full I suppose the fact that there was one familiar face in the guise of Captain Ben is something to be thankful for. He was always my mothers friend as apposed to mine, but he embraced me in such a way you'd think I was his own son, I later learned in fact that Ben's own son Antoine was missing and assumed dead or worse, I don't think I need bother type what I mean by worse.

It was strange what happed next everyone kind of paused and waited for the Royal Guard to decide our fate it was only proper we knew little of the current situation above and at first there was a strong notion among the civilians that the coup had failed or was at least on the verge of collapse and that soon we would all be going home. The truth my friend, hit some of them hard, like a baby's first exposure to light and air at birth. As for me I was less upset than I thought I would be, the scenes in the fifth shelter had created a wall of sorts around my heart, it was as though I was wearing sunglasses, for everything appeared somewhat darker than it really was to me.

Ben came and told me personally what was going to happen, I was told of the plan to make the cavern a more permeate place of residence. As you would no doubt expect my friend I told him that it was crazy to try to live right under Robotnik's nose if not plain suicidal and to my surprise he agreed.

It was then my friend that I found out that Ben in spite of his high rank as captain was out ranked and taking orders from General Macintyre. The General was a bear large both in stature and ambition. With grace and determination he brushed aside the peoples fear and inhibitions about staying there. He told, with passion in his voice, of his vision, a vision of a city, a city of learning and play, one that would attempt to recapture the beauty and splendor of Mobotropolis that Robotnik had corrupted. There would be gardens with flowers to stimulate your eyes and nose, there would be clean air that would not foul you lungs and make you choke, there would be food and room for everyone but most of all there would be freedom.

People cheered and indeed I was among them, my voice razed high and my hands beating together in thunderous applause. Perhaps my friend you chose to mock me for although my objections were strong my mind was week and I had broken submitted even to a mind stronger than my own though not necessary wiser.

*

"FROM THE ADAMA JOURNALS:

I realized one thing about leadership during the period of exodus from the twelve worlds. A leader, no matter how benevolently he regards himself, has to be something of a tyrant. If he lets everyone in on every phase of his plan, allows them complete access to all information so they can see the overpowering odds against them, he takes the risk they'll become too discouraged to perform the little jobs that bring us forward through all the tedious phases. Human resilience is a marvelous quality, and we proved that during our time of reorganizing our society, repairing our damage, converting our ships to hyperspace power, building up the hopes of our people even while we reduced their food rations. I had faith in our resilience, but knew it worked best when the goals were limited. The emotions of people who are struggling with the aftermath of tragedy can be stretched to breaking point if too much is demanded at once. So I had to remain a tyrant, remain aloof even from my friends and family. More than once my own resilience was put to task. No wonder tyrants so often turn mad."

-'Battlestar Galactica' by Glen A. Larson and Robert Thurston.

*

Building the city was far from easy; aside from the obvious problems of construction was the fact that almost all our equipment and food stocks had to be looted from Robotropolis. Stealth was of vital importance in those missions and I was relieved my friend that I was not a member of the Royal Guard. To date only one of them have been lost to Robotnik, whether they died during integration or survived only to meet a fate far worse through roboticization we don't know, however we give thanks that they took the secret of the city with them to their grave. I remember the day it happened well the mission had been led by Ben, four of them had set off but only Ben himself and one other had made it back. The General decided he would go to the surface alone since he insisted they were his responsibility, everyone thought he was crazy but they were bound by his orders to stay put while he went on the rescue mission. I saw his face as he left; many people did as the protests from Ben attracted a lot of attention. My friend I sewer to you that I will never forget that look as long as I live; his eyes were hard and focused not so much confidence, more like acceptance in his course of action whatever the outcome. He came back nearly four hours later with one of the men exhorted from torture draped over his back while he had several laser burns across his arms and chest. Only after he had gently put the Guard down did the General allow himself the luxury of passing out.

That my friend was the day the General stopped being a hero and started becoming a messiah.

Another important factor for the city survival is the energy crystal, they are strange almost alien things my friend, some say they are the product of magic from one of the extinct ancient civilizations such as the Mages, others say the date back even farther, to the times when overlanders supposedly were the only species, whatever they were their workings eluded modern science.

An energy crystal remains dormant until a current is passed and maintained through it, when this happens it comes to life as it were, not that they are believed to be a sentient life form, more like coral. It produces masses of heat, light and electricity, now what bathless the scientists is that the crystal by all accounts brakes the laws of thermodynamics, if spitting them in the face by producing more energy than is fed into it, so once they are activated they can be wired to fed themselves with plenty of energy left over. The crystal will not last forever though, eventually it will start to burn itself out and an alterative will have to be found to help heal and replenish it or else it will die but that's still a very long way off and there are far more pressing concerns right now my friend, the very concerns that inspired me to type all this up in the first place.

It took a little over four years to finish the city partly because the General insisted we plan for the future and build it far larger than was really necessary and on that day, the day we began to taste the fruits of out labor we threw a party so wild and outrageous that it made the celebrations after the Great War look positively bland in comparison. Oh if only you could have been there my friend, the dancing, the music it was as though we were on the surface of Mobius, in the streets of Mobotropolis again and the coup has been just a horrible nightmare best forgotten now that you were awake. Many others must have thought the same thing, because that day the city was no longer known as just the city but by its true name, the only name that matched the love we felt for it in our hearts, the name it was destined to have, Lower Mobius.

If I had the power to freeze time, to pick out a single moment from my life and relive it forever it would be that night my friend. There is an old saying I heard once 'all good things must come to an end.' I always assumed that it was morbid gibberish spouted by a pessimist long dead, but now, now I'm starting to wonder am I silently and without protest witnessing the end of paradise and the beginnings of something else, something ugly and devoid of hope? Is this the conclusion of all our yesterdays, or is this so called end only a delusion in my own perverted mind? You would tell me if you knew wouldn't you my friend? You would not let me suffer this nagging endless debate inside my head but set the matter strait to give me piece of mind? But then would you want punish me for my sins, what I have done and what I continue to do?

It seemed so right at first and do not misunderstand my friend half of me, perhaps the weaker half, still maintains that view. The General summoned Dr Connors and I to join him for dinner and to disuses the future of Lower Mobius. I was thrilled; naturally I had exchanged a few words with the General over the years, in a closed community like this one with fewer than one hundred people that was to be expected. Yet to be invited to dinner, well that was something truly remarkable. I wore a bowtie and some smart shoos I browed off a friend, Dr Connors went that one step farther and donned a white shirt, I felt a little underdressed as I met him in the study but Dr Connors assured me I looked fine. I'm pleased that I have a good relationship with Dr Connors, before the coup he was a physiologist with thirty-seven years experience under his belt. His species is reptilian, a green lizard to be precise and he's sixty-one years old at the time of writing, but back then he was only 60.

We were joined by Captain Ben, sergeant Bates, two privets named Kyle and Jason, Kyle was 27, his spices is fox and he is a technician while Jason was 21, his spices is rhino and he is a standard soldier that the General seems to have strong bond with and of course the General himself. He sat at the end of the table and gave us all a warm smile and it was warm I tell you my friend, there was nothing flashy, false or even slightly unnerving about it, only modest sincerity.

The meal was wonderful, exquisite even. Oh my friend I wish that you too could of tasted that meal, it was so much more than the small variety of admittedly tasty and wholesome vegetables we are growing, special trips had been made to the underground freshwater lake to acquire some fish, one of the few non sentient and therefore edible creatures on the planet. The conversation started as you would expect, mindless small talk and I took the opportunity to make a joke by saying what great weather we were having and how surprising it was that it hadn't rained it years. Eventually conversation shifted to why we were here, which was fortunate because if it had been much longer I would of suggested a game of charades.

I had guessed it would be something to do with psychology; it was the only clear link between me and Dr Connors, not to mention the fact that I had little else to offer anyone, including you my friend. Even so it did surprise me when the General announced exactly what he had in mind. I had thought such a huge undertaking impractical in our current situation but as always the General was persuasive as a chemist selling medicine a hypochondriac and he had thought things through in almost obsessive detail.

It all goes back to Mobian society at the end of the day; history dictates the present just as the present dictates the future. Hundreds of years ago there were many things that were considered evil that have now been nullified due to education and the social development that comes with it. As you no doubt know my friend two of these things were having improper relations outside of ones species termed transpecielity and having improper relations with the same gender termed homosexuality, in the past those caught practicing such things were put to death for committing a crime against nature unless the repented and excepted the public humiliation of living the remainder of their life as a second class Mobian obligated to carry out any task a normal Mobian asked of them, no matter how dangerous or demeaning it might be. Thankfully, in time attitudes changed and these things were recognized for what they truly are, sever mental illness.

*

"insane adj. 1. a. mentally deranged; crazy; of unsound mind. b. (as collective n. preceded by the): the insane. 2. characteristic of a person of unsound mind: an insane stare. 3. irresponsible; very foolish; stupid. –in'sanity adv. –in'saneness n.

imagination n. 1. the faculty or action of producing mental images of what is not present or has not been experienced. 2. mental creative ability. 3. the ability to deal resourcefully with unexpected or unusual problems, circumstances, ect."

-Collins Modern English Dictionary.

**

I feel fortunate that I was born in this civilized time, when Mobians were helped and treated rather than punished for something that is not really their fault. Before the Great War the tight controls were relaxed somewhat under the false assumption that people should have the right to express themselves freely, they were wrong my friend. Like any disease that goes unchecked, it spread and infects more and more people but even then the powers that be still turned a blind eye. It is difficult now to understand their reasoning because the outcome of such action was soon apparent. Mobian society my friend is made up of many hundreds of different species and while there are indeed some careers and lifestyles more genetically suited to some species than others, with the exception of the Royal Family who are squirrels all species enjoy a life of equality, as indeed it should be. I for example am a shrew but that should really only be an interesting piece of trivia to you my friend and you would be a bigot if you were to chance your opinion about me because on that alone.

However in spite of this welcome and highly ethical equality spices cannot bare children by a Mobian outside of their own, naturally there are the grey areas such as canines and wolfs and horses and donkeys for example but while this is possible and allowed it is fronded by many, myself included. Therefore if you have a completely open society that allows improper relations between any species, in time all the species will begin to die out. This became apparent in the aftermath of the Great War when statistics showed a steady decrease in the population that had already been thinned because of the war. The tight controls were reinstated by King Acorn under the guidance of the Generals farther who was also known as General Macintyre. I know what you're thinking my friend; did the Generals farther pull strings to insure his son took over his position after he retired? The answer is no, it was in fact the opposite with the General having to work even harder than he should to prove himself and earn the peoples respect. It was only a few days after the controls were reinstated that he steeped down and allowed his son to take his place. Perhaps he felt his son, a fresh and younger version of himself could instigate the changes and handle the responsibilities better than he could?

I remember my friend the time I was first checked for either of the conditions, everyone receives their first check at 12, their second at 14, forth at 16 and then the final check takes place when your 18. I went down to the correctional facility with my mother, I didn't really know much about it since its not something adults generally talk about with children. I remember the worry as I walked up those grand white marble steps with my mother.

"What if I'm not well, what if I have one of those disorders…will you not love me anymore?" I had asked her. She had stopped then, knelt down next to me and then gently put her arms around me and said.

"Of course I'll still love you, don't you think that I ever won't, even of you killed somebody nothing could take away the love I have for you." I had pulled away from her unsure and asked her again.

"But what will happen to me if I am, infected?"

"Then you will be cured" she replied. "It may take a few weeks. It all depends on how much you work with the doctors who are there to help you. But understand that if you are ill, then there is no reason you should feel ashamed because it's not your fault."

We went in then and the tests were carried out on me, at first a group of doctors just sat with me and my mother and asked me lots of questions, some of them were quite personal and I had to look at her more than once for her to assure me it was ok to answer. Then came the hard part my fried, I was strapped into a chair and then numerous machines were attached to me, I know all their names now, that monitored my pulse, perspiration level, brainwaves and even my flow of testosterone. I was quite upset by how intrusive some of the sensors that were placed on me were but my mother was right they're with me, holding my hand and so I kept relatively calm. It was then that they showed me the films, films of Mobians kissing. At first it showed a male and female shrew kissing very intensely and I was quite embarrassed by how much I was enjoying it when mother was right there next to me. The film then changed to show shrews of same genders kissing and then shrews kissing different species of both sexes. Suffice to say with the exception of the two female shrews kissing I found the other films rather vulgar and the data the collected from me confirmed my body as well as my mind was reacting in the correct way.

*

"Etiology

This person is (pick one):

1. On a perilous journey from which we can learn much when her or she returns;

2. Possessed by (pick one):

a) the gods,

b) God (that is, a prophet),

c) Some bad sprits, demons, or devils,

d) The Devil,

3. a witch;

4. bewitched (variant of 2);

5. bad, and must be isolated and punished;

6. ill, and must be isolated and treated by (pick one):

a) purging and leeches,

b) removing the uterus if the person has one,

c) electric shock to the brain,

d) cold sheets wrapped tight around the body,

e) Thorazine or Stelazine;

7. ill and must spend the next seven years talking about it;

8. a victim of society's low tolerance for deviant behavior;

9. sane in an insane world;

10. on a perilous journey from which her or she may never return."

-'Girl, Interrupted' by Susanna Kaysen.

*

The General proposed a clinic for the diagnosing and the treatment of mentally infected patients be built in the centre of the city, both a monument to honor and remember with tenderness our past and as a ziggurat to show out determination to prevail against the odds. But most of all the centre was needed to do what it is designed to do, to treat the mentally ill. It is an impressive site to behold now, it's clear white marble a great contrast to the yellow coloring of the rest of the city, one could even say it has the appearance of a diamond set in the centre of a gold ring. Again like the city itself construction took longer than expected and I used the time to brush up and develop my skills under the farther like guidance of Dr Connors. I learnt a lot, maybe more than I wanted to about the grisly but completely necessary procedures involved in treatment. Do not think that we were only concerned about the homosexuals and transpicesals, many of the younger children exhibited other signs of anti social behavior that was so much more than them just testing their boundaries. As for the adults, well while there was a chance that a few may of needed treatment for depression at their age they knew better regarding any homosexual or transpicesal tendencies they might have and would not act upon their desires, which in a way was almost as good as them being cured. It is really best to start as young as possible because in the majority of cases if they are to develop the conditions at all they do so as the enter puberty and their hormones begin to take over. It is very rare in the extreme for an adult to suddenly develop homosexual or transpiescal tendencies without having gone through it in their childhood.

As previously stated to you my friend half of me still believes what I am doing is right and I have no doubts that the Generals plan to reinstate the social controls in Lower Mobius is in everyone's best interest. Now because of the coup there are so few of us left with millions gone, some species may be down to only a few dozen members while other less numerous ones to begin with may have been made existent all together. It is a question of our continued survival that dampens the fires of doubt that scorch my soul. The doubts I do have come not from the reasoning behind the acts, in that I am solid but from the manor in which this most noble of goals is being sort.

It is ironic my friend that it is yet another old saying that planted the seed of doubt to something so new, 'if something worth doing, its worth doing well.' I mean no offence against Dr Connors, his experience and skills leave me in ore but it is the physical limits placed upon us by our situation and Generals unwelcome interference that give me grief.

The first problem that became apparent my friend was that even after several attempts we were unable to locate the equipment used in the diagnosis of homosexual and transpicesal disorders from Robotropolis. We excepted that it was unlikely any still existed, since Robotnik had made a habit of collecting and melting down any obsolete machinery he could lay his filthy hands on and we had left it far too late. So instead we relied on observation alone, once again I cannot stress how much I trust Dr Connors judgment but without the right equipment surly even the most skilled and professional doctor could make mistakes?

Another problem is the lack of some of the more complex drugs because the laboratories that produced them have been destroyed. Dr Connors has been remarkably innovative in producing efficient substitutes but even he has his limits and I worry my friend if they are in fact producing sever side effects. This becomes apparent when you look at the effects it has had on the children themselves. We currently have 8 children of varying ages that are receiving treatment and have been quarantined inside the clinic to protect the rest of the population for the last 2-months with the exception of Dirk who arrived only last week.

*

"My mouth opened in protest, but Mannie shook his head.

'Now, listen to me,' he said quietly. His forearms on his knees, hands clasped, Mannie sat down staring at the town. 'The human mind is a strange and wonderful thing,' he said reflectively, 'but I'm not sure it will ever figure itself. Everything else, maybe - from sub-atomic particles to the universe –except itself,'" -'Invasion of the Body Snatchers' by Jack Finney.

*

I'll start with Griff since out of all the children I can understand him the best, his bright eyes, kind nature and deafening optimism reminds me of my self when I was his age. He is 13 years old and is currently suffering from a transpicescal disorder. He believes he is in love with one of the other children, I tell him my friend that he is too young to even know what love is yet but stubbornly and with a tint of the innocence one associates with children he insists that he is, of course since he is a goat and the female is a feline removes all doubt since any physiologist knows it is impossible for members of different species to love one another in that way. It may seem very real to them and be all consuming like real love but it is only a delusion that will only cause harm to both parties if allowed to develop farther. When I tell Griff these things he just looks at me confused, I just cannot make him understand how much damage this will do to him and while neither I nor Dr Connors whish to brake his free spirited nature, we may have to unless he starts to make at least some progress soon.

Next I'll deal with Cleo, the object my friend of Griff's unwanted affections, she is 17 years old and happens to suffer a homosexual disorder making Griff's advances even less desirable in her eyes. When she first came to the clinic her manner was much like Griff's, sweet, caring and gentle but now she has changed for the worse. Far from helping her, the treatments have made her angry, spiteful, with every passing day her use of language becomes ever more crude and confrontational.

Then there is Alex he is 15 years old and his spices is koala, what has happened to his mind since he has been here goes against everything I was ever lead to believe and although Dr Connors maintains that what has happened to Alex is unusual but not completely unheard of I know my friend from the look in his eyes that he is just as stumped and confused as I am, if not more so since Alex's condition is an even bigger anomaly to him. In a bizarre way Alex has made the most progress out of all the patients in that he is the only one who is cooperating fully with our efforts to treat him and he has not trouble excepting that he is insane. He was brought in for a homosexual disorder; we did not think he would be here long since his disorder was so slight. But something has gone wrong, I think we misjudged his dosage of electroshock therapy but it could just as easily be a unique reaction to one of Dr Connors home made drugs. Whatever it was he seems to have become very irrational and now suffers from frequent hallucinations as well as a slight loss of control over his body making his movements erratic and unfocused.

Fortunately for me my friend the other children suffer from other kinds of disorders therefore providing a refreshing alternate as well as reinforcing the firmly held belief in my mind that whatever the outcome so far we are trying to help these children since their distress is so much more apparent.

Sophie is 12 years old and her spices is raccoon, she is suffering from manic depression made apparent my friend when her mother tragically found her unconscious in her bedroom having slit both her wrists. She is quirt and often prefers to whisper rather than talk and while I don't really know how the children relate to each other I do know that she prefers to be alone shying from company. As for why she is so depressed, well the problem is not that she refuses to tell us, it's that she tells us too much. According to her there is practically nothing that does not make her unhappy and sometimes within only a few minutes of taking about it with her tears begin to flow trickles at first but soon they become cascading waterfalls. Dr Connors believes she's trying to throw us off the sent, that there must be one big thing behind her pain and it is only a matter of time before she cracks.

Amanda, my friend is the youngest there being only 10 years old and her species is otter. She suffers from schizophrenia and claims she can talk to a girl her age called Clare that for some reason she dose not understand lives inside her head and can take over her body whenever she wishes, which happens to be a great deal. The problem in treating Amanda is than she claims when Clare speaks to her she can't hear anyone else and when Clare takes over completely, it's like she's asleep and when she comes back she does not know how long she has been gone or anything that has happened. We have had even greater difficulties recently with the Clare personality pretending to be the Amanda one when she takes over.

Possibly the most disturbed patient we have is Simon he is 15 and his spices is goat, the same as Griff but they are not related. Simon my friend is what we call a victim of overlander contamination. At some point in his youth, before the coup Simon had gotten hold of a copy of a very old overlander book, a book known as 'The Bible.' This book contained the text on which Christianity one of the overlanders most barbaric and irrational religions was based. Although the book has now been confiscated from him the damage had already been done and he has memorized the entire book, an impressive feat that under different circumstances I would complement him on. The problem is not entirely down to his refusal to except the falseness of the text although in not doing so in the face of such overwhelming scientific proof clearly shows he has an irrational mind but the way he clings to every word with such obsession and the way he regards our relationship to overlanders and this non existent God.

In the past Mobians did indeed have spiritual beliefs; we were ignorant of science and went seeking answers to questions we did not fully understand. However my friend with the birth of our scientific culture we were able to confidently abandon such primitive reasoning especially since time and time again science would prove yet another of our spiritual assumptions wrong. We are not an oppressive people and saying such as, oh God have become embedded deeply into our cultural and if you wished to maintain belief in a greater being, or beings then you were free to do so as long as you did not corrupt others with your delusion or demand that others respect your beliefs. Simon violated both points and then went even farther, you see in order to understand and treat him better both I and Dr Connors read the filth in that book. I find it difficult to describe to you my friend how offensive parts of it were, the violence of not only of the overlanders themselves but also of this loving God I can only describe as a sadistic pervert not dissimilar to Robotnik.

We asked him my friend, if this God told you to kill a tiny baby would do it? He not only said yes but he said he would be proud to be carrying out the will of God and that true happiness can only come from obeying and submitting to his will. That is why he insists that all of us hand ourselves over to Robotnik, he quotes the bible,

'So God created man in his own image, in the image of God created he him; male and female he created he them. And God blessed them, and God said unto them, be fruitful, and multiply, and replenish the earth, and subdue it: and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth. And God said, Behold, I have given you every herb bearing seed, which is upon the face of all the earth, and every tree, in the which is the fruit of a tree yielding seed; to you it shall be for meat. And to every beast of the earth, and to every fowl of the air, and to every thing that creepeth upon the earth, wherein there is life, I have given every green herb for meat: and it was so.'

Simon claims these words among many others he has also quoted gives Robotnik not only the right but the direct blessing of God for what he has done. He also insists that every day we resist Robotnik makes the Lord angry because while everything in the Universe is the property of God we are also the property of man and therefore we are the property of Robotnik.

Although my friend, Simon represents a very real and immediate threat to us since he has threatened that when he gets out, he says when because this God is apparently on his side, he will contact Robotnik and earn Gods blessing. He wishes to do this even though he also claims that upon death this God will not allow him into the kingdom of Heaven, because he has no soul only overlanders have souls, only they deserve to be with him when the die and only they deserve his love. In spite of the danger posed by Simon there is another patient that presents a more immediate threat, however unlike Simon the danger is unfocused and wild. The patient I am referring to is the same boy I found in that shelter more than half a decade ago we don't know his age but by now we estimate him to be between 12 and 13 and as previously stated his spices is chipmunk. Over the years he has gotten worse not better, still refusing to talk and appearing to have no interest in anything besides his own survival. Even before the clinic was opened the boy was in restrains 24/7 since he had gotten to the stage where he would attack Mobians without reason and in several such cases he not only severally hurt the victim but had he not been restrained I believe he would have attempted to kill them. In the absence of his true name we call him number 5 since I discovered him in the fifth bunker, perhaps my friend you disagree with such a name, that to refer to him as a number lowers the little dignity he has left. However Dr Connors believe that this may eventuality encourage him to tell us his real name, maybe it won't but then if that s the case we've hardly lost anything in the attempt.

The final patient we have my friend is not only the oldest at 18 years but was also the one I mentioned named Dirk who was admitted only last week and so I and Dr Connors have yet to thoroughly explore his condition. His spices is warthog, he was a member of the Royal Guard until he became completely paranoid, like a case of extreme shell shock, I suppose some Mobians just can't handle the pressure of being reasonable for so many lives. As well as the paranoia Dirk suffers a mild delusion; he believes the general has thrown him in here because of the secret information he found out about him. When we ask for this information though to confirm his story he refuses claiming the General would kill us, right after killing him for not keeping his mouth shut and then in the name of spite the General would kill his family. It's funny my friend how the mentally ill are able to construct such complex and airtight delusions free of easy exposure with their unstable minds.

But then when I think about it alone in the safety of my house I wonder if there might not be some merit to Dirk's accusation. For you see my friend the General is...I don't know exactly, it's not something you can easily put your finger on. His compassion for others and high ethical code are plain for all to see, as are his accomplishments that are the product of his commitment for us to prosper. His manor, although he is always polite and sincere, never degrading himself by shouting, he does carry a slight arrogance about him but considering just how much he has done for us that is to be expected. What troubles me about him is only the way in which he interferes with the clinic, ideally he should leave Dr Connors and I to work but instead he insists we produce detailed reports for him every day and that he personally supervise many of the treatments. Like a second shadow he looms over me while I adjust the dials for the next electric shock, like a fly he hovers as I mix the chemicals to produce a drug, like a stain on an otherwise flawless tablecloth he districts as well as irritates. Dr Connors says I should have more patience with him, that he only wishes to help but my friend is that really so?

*

"To be in a minority, even a minority of one does not make you mad."

-'1984' by George Orwell.

*

Perhaps in spite of my training I have allowed myself to become contaminated by the patients, perhaps Dirk's paranoia has rubbed off? I don't know I can only tell you how I feel and I feel that there is something wrong something bad is about to happen. Yes go ahead and laugh I know full well what a hypocrite I've been mocking those who claim to have felt something bad was going to happen before the coup only for me to do the very same thing now. I wish I knew if it was indeed I alone that harbored these suspicions about the General for Dirk's opinions should not really be taken seriously because of his condition. One thing I do know, until I know for sure I will keep my silence, perhaps others had this very though about Robotnik and paid the price for their inaction? Be that as it may for now I will sit back and await the verdict of the metaphorical jury in my mind. Whether I turn out to be crazy for thinking such nonsense, a foul for not acting sooner and averting the tragedy that looms or even a visionary, that could not only see that which was hidden but steeped in at the right time to save the day. May fate decide which of these I will become, for my friend I grow so very tired of trying to decide myself.

One more thing, it almost slipped my mind, my name I never gave it to you did I? Well on the off chance that you care I'll give it to you, maybe you'll want to help focus the hate you have for me my friend, like light through a microscope. I hope you won't hate me though, I want you to understand I bleeding inside, these feelings, these doubts do they not prove something, does one hand wash the other?

I don't know how you feel towards me, I can only hope but here, here is something I can do my name I give it to you as a gift, a sign of my virtue.

My name is Paul, Paul Stevens or to be precise Dr Stevens, well that's it I've said all I'm going to say, perhaps it would of helped more had I said this to someone or even typed this with the intention of it being read, but then that would clearly be impossible. I want to let you know that you have helped me my friend, putting this down has given me much to think about and I thank you.

*

Dr Stevens leaned back in his chair, a nail on his right hand gently scraping the surface of the metal desk. His eyes were red and swollen from his long period in front of the screen and then as though he were a puppet that had just had its strings cut he fell forward onto the keyboard causing him to instantly rear it back up.

With worry Dr Stevens contemplated the seriousness of the event, what if he had stayed asleep on the keyboard and then in the morning Dr Connors had come looking for him when he failed to show up at the clinic and he had seen…that.

He looked at his magnum opus, before him, the frown deepening, his body shaking and knew at once that he could not allow it to survive. With growing panic he deleted the whole thing crying out slightly as the words disappeared, as though he'd been shot or stabbed. So often a writers work becomes an extension of them self and its loss is just as painful as the loss of an arm or a leg.

The exhorted form of Dr Stevens slowly rose from his chair and with clumsy strides reached his bed and collapsed onto it. He had not bothered to switch of his computer, nor had he washed or removed his white coat. Such things were meaningless to Paul right then, like an alcoholic surrendering to the bottle Dr Stevens had surrendered to his own need for sleep and sleep he did before his head even touched the pillow.

------------------------------

Post 75:
Tristan Palmgren

(back to the main story :D)

The crowd had resorted to throwing things now. Rocks and other assorted debris clanged against the airbus's windshield.

The objects bounced harmlessly off the hull, of course, but Derek still gave the thrusters a little push backwards. He didn't want to risk the chance that any of the jeering mob would get smart enough to throw explosives, or perhaps Molotov cocktails. Judging by the smell of stale oil in the air, the airbus probably wasn't fireproof. He ordered the navigation console to keep the thrusters pushing them backwards and slightly upwards. The airbus was shortly beyond the reach of the mob's throwing range.

Presently, he cut the thrusters' upward motion, and just kept them coasting backwards, away from the mob and away from Ackten Sea Island. Within minutes, they'd be gliding over open water again. He turned his attention away from the console, and let the automatic thrusters do their work.

"You been flying long?" Nayr asked.

"Um, no," Derek admitted. "Does it show?"

"A little. You're not a very good pilot, but I believe you shall be... adequate." Even with Sprocket missing, and having just barely escaped death moments ago, Derek couldn't help the smirk. That was probably the closest thing to a compliment that he'd ever get out of the sadosii. "Of all of us, myself included you're probably most suited to pilot this ship. It's been some time since," Nayr looked disparagingly at the dingy airbus's cockpit compartment, "I've been around this kind of technology. I just hope that you're not as deficient as you look."

So far the ship's automatic systems seemed to be doing fine without a pilot. The thrusters were leisurely backing them away from the island. The lazy course Derek had plotted would take them back out to the open sea in a couple minutes. The ship may have been old and crotchety, but at least the automatics seemed fairly reliable. "I'll do my best," Derek said, standing up, "but I think we should be fine for now. I'm going to go back and see how the others are doing."

"Do that," Nayr said indifferently. He took a seat in one of the chair's further back towards the door. "I'm going to see if this ship has any kind of sensor system we can use to track the patrol craft, and perhaps find your canine friend."

The back of the airbus was a mess. The people inside it weren't - as usual, Sally had efficiently calmed and organized the children so that they wouldn't get in the way - but the actual interior was looking horrible. Derek hadn't had enough time to appreciate this when he'd first stepped onto the bus. It seemed as though whoever had owned the airbus before Nack had, uh, borrowed it, had used it less as an actual vehicle and more as a closet. Junk and other various debris were scattered about the cabin floor. The seats had all been stripped and removed quite some time ago. It meant that the airbus's riders had to either huddle on the ground or stand up, and neither position was very tenable for a moving vehicle. Derek just hoped that none of the children would take a sudden, disastrous spill. As much as it wasn't his choice for them to be here, he still held himself accountable for their safety.

...After all, if he didn't, who would? Definitely not Nack or Nayr. Sprocket would've, but he was gone. Not even the Princess herself seemed to take much interest in her own well-being. While Nack's motivations were all too plain, Derek still wasn't sure what Nayr's stake in all this was, and it worried him.

It suddenly struck Derek that he might be the only adult on this airbus with any kind of personal interest in doing the right thing. With Sprocket gone... he wouldn't trust anybody left not to do anything for the own personal interests, regardless of the position it left the others in. Not even J�Ran. She seemed promising, but she was too new to him, and he had heard one too many stories about the manipulatory predilections of the distant echidna civilization.

The very back of the airbus's passenger cabin held a little open compartment that might have once been space for a small bathroom, but if it had been, the sink and toilet had been removed along with the rest of the chairs. The walls, too, had been torn down. Snively's bound form had been stowed there now; either by Nack or Nayr, he couldn't be sure. He looked furious, but helpless. Derek ignored him.

J�Ran sat against the wall opposite the children, in a lotus position. She was the only one in the passenger cabin who seemed aloof and calm. Her eyes were closed, and her hands were folded up in front of her. She was deep in some kind of meditation. She seemed unperturbed by Derek's entrance, or indeed by anything else in the cabin. She was so still that she hardly appeared to be breathing.

Nack leaned nonchalantly against the far back wall, next to Snively. He was looking straight ahead-- no, his face was oriented to give that impression, but Derek saw that he was really watching the Princess out of the corner of his eye. There was a brief predatory gleam in his eye, a gleam that grew stronger when he looked up at Derek's entrance. It was gone a moment later. He straightened. "Hey, kid!" Nack called, pausing to give the prone body next to him a soft kick. "What do you plan to do with sleepin' beauty here? She ain't gonna stay unconscious forever, y'know."

Derek had almost forgotten that he'd brought Nic aboard. The slave trader - *former* slave trader - was still deep in slumber, but he was no medical expert. He couldn't even guess as to how long she'd stay that way. "Worry about her later," he said. "Besides, if she wakes up, I'm sure you're good enough to disarm her."

"That's true," Nack grinned. "I am. I'd like to have some fun with her, too. Now that we've got her like this, it'd be a hell of a turnaround to sell her to the same slavers she deals with. I'd pay to see that."

"You're a paradigm of sibling relations," Derek said darkly. He wasn't fond of Nic, but he still felt a twinge of anger and regret when he heard he fate being decided so callously. "Look, I may need some help steering the ship up there. You know anything about piloting ships like this?"

"Sorry, kid, you're on your own. I specialize in the small ships. Hovercycles, clipper ships, you know, those things. There's a world of difference between steering a smaller ship and steering a semi." Nack paused. "Although I suppose I could help out with the smaller systems. Sensors, or the like."

"Good," Derek said, reaching out to grab Nack's arm. He didn't budge. "Let's get up there then--"

"How much you gonna pay me?"

"PAY you?" Derek exclaimed. "We're all trapped up here, and here's where we're going to stay unless we can get moving soon. You're free to jump if you want to leave."

Even with the airbus's slow moving thrusters, the airbus had already gained a respectable altitude. The mob waiting down below wasn't likely to be any more forgivable than the fall, either. Nack considered this for a moment. "All right, you got me there. My best interest too." Derek could almost see the clockwork gears of rationalization ticking in his head. "Hey, since I want to catch up with the woodchuck broad, anyway - she owes me - then I might as well hitchhike with you losers."

"Glad to hear it," Derek said, his dislike of Nack growing by the moment. He looked at Sally and the other children. "And how are you all do--?"

The door to the pilot's compartment hissed open, and Nayr stalked through, interrupting Derek and obviously not caring. He glanced warily at J�Ran, but when she didn't come out of her trance, turned to Derek. "I've figured out the sensor station controls. Unfortunately, they won't be much help. They are of extremely poor quality and limited range. We only have sensor coverage in a one hundred meter radius... beyond that, the entire navy of Echidnaopolis could be waiting and we wouldn't see them."

"Can you detect Sprocket or the patrol ship?" Derek asked.

"No," Nayr said. "The sensor screen is blank. I'm not surprised we can't see them, either. We barely even have a threat warning system. These sensors are most definitely not military-grade stuff. Computer's not very functional, either. It's a clunky system that relies on a voice interface. Here, I thought for sure that most of those had been replaced well before the coup."

"That's okay, I guess," Derek sighed. "If the sensors are that bad, we can always just use a visual search to check for them. We just need enough to be able to fly out of here."

Nayr looked doubtful, but he didn't say anything else. Derek stood in the passenger compartment for a quiet moment, listening to the rumbling of the thrusters beneath the deck. The upward motion was steady, and with just enough of a slight acceleration gee force to put his balance slightly off. It was disconcerting to walk or stand, but it wasn't yet strong enough to force him to brace himself against something.

"Sorry about the interruption," Derek said, turning to Sally. "I was about to ask you how you kids were doing."

"First of all, don't call us kids, and second of all, don't worry about us," Sally said. "I've got everybody organized back here, and we're keeping watch on Snively for you. Worry about Sprocket."

"He's run off on us again," Derek said, fighting a small pang of anger. For acting so selflessly, that canine could be so damned selfish sometimes. Didn't he realize the situation he'd left anyone else in when he'd run off like that? Didn't he realize that Derek needed guidance out here, stuck alone with the baying wolves of Nayr and Snively and Nack and Nic snapping at his heels? "I don't know how easy it's going to be to find him again."

Sally only smiled, and said, "You'll find him. I'm sure of it."

Derek realized that he had been about to ask her for advice. She was the heir to the Mobian throne, after all, and that alone held a great deal of sway with him. She may have only been a kid, but sometimes she held herself with such regal grace and poise that he found himself wondering if she was an adult merely wearing the disguise of a child's form. This was one of those times.

He was terribly lost out here.

He didn't have anything to say to that, so he just nodded gratefully at the Princess and turned away. He wasn't sure where to go from here. Bridges had been burnt in Ackten Sea city, and too many possible paths had become inaccessible.

The city was likely very hostile to them now. Whichever motives guided the crowd below - be it mob logic or mafia intellect - weren't likely to be very magnanimous. A visual search of Nimbus Island for those old Royal Navy hangars would likely yield nothing. If the city's inhabitants hadn't found and looting the hangars by now, either they were going to be too difficult to find at all, or they didn't exist.

So far this trip had disastrous. He hadn't accomplished anything. He'd only made enemies, found information that wasn't worth acting on, attracted the personal attention of Robotnik, and inadvertently placed the lives of several children in extreme danger. After all of this hardship and all of these misadventures, he'd accomplished absolutely nothing. And Ari's group still needed a place to resupply.

Nayr interrupted his thoughts again. This time, though, Derek was grateful for it. "We were cruising at about one hundred meters altitude last time I checked. We're still climbing. Are you planning to level our ascent any time soon?"

"Why bother?" Derek asked. "The airbus is old, but I think its sturdy enough to go about a couple kilometers in height without even worrying about cabin pressure."

"Fair enough," Nayr said. "We can make a larger visual sweep of the island from higher heights, anyhow."

An idea struck Derek. "Miss J�Ran?"

J�Ran remained still for long enough that Derek was nearly sure that she hadn't heard him. He was about to open his mouth and ask again when she spoke. "Yes?"

"Can you tell us where Sprocket, Rosie, and the patrol ship might be?"

J'ran's manner of speaking was somewhat disconcerting. Her eyes remained shut, yet for a moment Derek felt a crawling sensation that told him that she was aware of everything inside the airbus's passenger compartment anyway. Then the sensation faded. "I can't sense them," J�Ran said. She smiled sadly. "I've been searching for some time with no luck. Sorry. Chaos can be somewhat fickle, as you're probably aware."

Derek felt the fur on his back rise. He hadn't been aware that this woman was a magician. He barely restrained himself from taking a cautionary step backwards.

Nayr must've sensed his reaction. Derek felt the Sadosii�s hand on his shoulder. He looked at Derek, and shook his head. The gesture was clearly read. This wasn't something that should be worried about. Not at present, at any rate.

J�Ran went on, "I'm quite accustomed to chaos, but... the chaos of battle is something quite different than that. I've stepped into a world that's entirely new to me. I'm afraid I won't be much help to anybody until I've had a chance to mediate upon what I've learned." She paused, frowning. "Although I suspect you may have to... to..."

The echidna trailed off into silence, leaving her mouth partially agape, froze in mid-sentence. She looked for all the world as though she'd slid back into her trance.

Derek wasn't going to give in so easily. He prompted, "We may have to...?"

"Trouble," J'ran's voice was suddenly strong and clear, though only as loud as a whisper. "Take flight."

Eeep - Eeep - Eeep

Before Derek even had enough time to register the words, a small, insistent alarm cut through the air behind him. The noise was shrill, but muffled. He glanced over his shoulder. It was coming from behind the door that led to the cockpit cabin.

He didn't recognize the alarm. "What the hells is that...?"

The noise attracted some of the children's attention, too. Sally stood facing the cabin door, fists clenched tight and her fur raised on its hackles. The fox, Antoine, had instinctively ducked into a huddle. Snively had gone pale, and his eyes were nearly the size of plates.

Nayr glanced at Derek. "That's from the sensors," he said quietly. "It's the proximity alarm."

"What?"

"There's something approaching," Nayr said.

"But I thought you said that the sensors didn't see any other ships in the area."

The memory came to him unbidden. When he'd first seen Ackten Sea city from the air, the people and the buildings had overwhelmed him, but they hadn't been the only things he had seen there. Silver specks flitted through the air as freely as birds had once done over old Mobotropolis. Other hover units: freighters, mostly, no doubt heavily involved in the city's illicit commerce. But there had been others. Speedier hover cycles, skiff ships, and other private vessels.

If the anger of the mob gathered below the airbus had spread to whatever the city called its government, then a mere hundred meters of altitude wouldn't be enough to stay their wrath.

How many of those other hover ships had been armed...?

"Emergency automation online," a muffled genderless voice, the airbus's computer, reported from behind the cockpit door. "Threat warning. Hostile weapon system has acquired an active targeting lock."

Derek would have paled, had there even been enough time for the blood to drain from his face. He caught glimpses of the others out of the corner of his eye. Nack's mouth hung open limply. This had caught him off-guard as much as it had Derek. His ordinarily limitless reserves of cool calm no time to respond. Even Nayr couldn't stifle his sharp intake of air.

There was no more speaking or further argument. There was no time to make a decision because the world had already made it for them. Derek leapt without thinking, his feet propelled of their own volition.

He was through the cockpit door in an instant. The whining of the sensors' proximity alarm was much clearer in here. There was no time to hide his terror; there was barely even enough time to allow himself feel it. Though he could spare no glances behind him, he knew that Nayr and Nack were right behind him because he could feel their feet thudding against the deck plating. He launched himself into the pilot's chair, banging his knee sharply against the side of one of the control consoles in the process. The pain barely registered. He looked at the sensors, and then out the forward window.

Outside, two bright white dots flitted upwards from distant Ackten Sea city. They danced acrobatically around each other, growing closer by the second.

"Ye gods, they're fast!" Nack cursed.

Derek gaped at them. He had only been at the controls of the airbus for a couple minutes, but he knew that there was no way that this clunky machine could match those kind of athletic maneuvers. Not even the Robotropolis patrol unit could've moved quite like that. They seemed to be showing off, taunting, as they closed in on their prey.

He laid his hands on the pilot's controls, but even as his fingers touched them he felt himself freeze. He choked. He didn't know what to do next.

Nayr growled. He and Nack took the two secondary directly behind him. "Floor it. We can seek cover on the main--"

A single laser bolt screeched past, searing the air only a few meters away from the airbus's forward compartment. The sound was more intense than Derek would have expected; airship-scale lasers were on a far more powerful, far more destructive order than the tiny hand weapons he was acquainted with. It drowned out whatever else Nayr might have said. A shockwave of superheated air buffeted the airbus's hull.

"Threat warning," the computer voice told them, a few seconds late. "Hostile weapon system has achieved an active shooting solution."

The airbus was unarmed. They didn't have the capability to fire back; not unless someone took Rosie's loaned laser rifle and leaned out a window. The only thing they could do was run.

"Punch it, kid!" Nack roared.

There wasn't time to even do that. The second airship was clearly preparing to fire, and this time it wouldn't miss. The airbus's engines were old. They'd take time to accelerate to any kind of respectable speed. Derek knew that even if he did as Nack ordered and gunned the engines for all they were worth now, they wouldn't have built up enough speed to maneuver by the time they were fired upon again. He'd have to think of some faster way to accelerate.

His fingers were danced across the pilot's controls. "Hold on!" he cried, hoping that the children in the passenger compartment could hear him... and then he cut the airbus's upward thrusters entirely.

Very suddenly, there was nothing holding them up in the air.

He could feel gravity's fist wrapping itself around the airbus, and, like a hammer, smashing them downwards.

The airbus wrenched and his stomach lurched. Nack yelped. Derek would have, too, if the sudden terror of weightless hadn't clamped his jaw shut. He had never felt freefall quite like this before. They were no longer a hovercraft; they were a catapult stone.

The ship's nose began to list forward. Derek maintained on iron grip on the underside of the pilot's console, knuckles white underneath his fur. He was afraid that if he let go he'd simply float away. There was no force beyond his grip keeping him attached to the chair. Everything that had formerly been located underneath his ribcage felt as though it were about to be forcibly relocated to his throat. Even worse, there was a terrifying emptiness in his abdomen, a sensation that told him that in the freefall his stomach was about to evacuate itself.

Gravity yanked them downwards with a far greater rate of acceleration than the airbus's engines could have ever managed. Derek could just barely hear the startled cries of the children in the passenger compartment above the shriek of rushing air.

Another laser bolt blazed through the air above them, in through the air that the airbus had occupied a moment before. Would have still occupied, if Derek had just relied on the engines alone to get them moving. Gravity pushed them far faster than the airbus's ordinary thrusters would have.

That shot had been intended to kill. The airbus was a civilian craft, and it wasn't armored. It would only take one or two shots to destroy it entirely. Surely the people firing on them knew that as well as Derek. There was no pause or mercy; not even the lesser demon of an attempt to capture and enslave. They just wanted to murder.

The ship's forward tilt had become dangerously acute now. Instead of the horizon, the only thing Derek could see through the forward window was the sterling sea, glaring in the sunlight and approaching faster by the instant.

He risked letting go of the console long enough to bring his hands back to the controls and hit the thrusters. The airship's engines roared behind him as he switched them back to their full acceleration. He felt himself being slammed back into the seat cushions. He'd drifted further than he thought. This new acceleration was added to their already considerable downward momentum. His guts were shoved back into place, and then they quickly became twice their accustomed weight. He channeled all the power he could into the thrusters to reverse their spiraling fall.

Having missed their target, the two Ackten Sea airships sped past. The air screeched and shuddered at their passage. Derek recognized the sound: ion engines. No wonder they so fast; ion engines were so resource-demanding that not even Robotnik had equipped any of his hover units with them. They were expensive to maintain, but they gave those airships their incredible speed advantage. Any ordinary hover unit wouldn't have been able to outrun them, let alone this clunky airbus.

The airships were both white in color, and streamlined in design. They were slightly smaller than most standard Robotropolis patrol units. Given their armaments, it was probable that they were the kind of ships a pre-coup Mobian nobleman might have had his bodyguards use. Given the state of affairs after Robotnik's takeover, it was no surprise that they'd fallen into criminal hands.

The airships shot past, already beginning to curve around to begin another attack run on their target.

Their fall continued unabated. It was taking longer than Derek anticipated to halt it. The ship's nose was still angled downward at an uncomfortable angle. With a start, Derek realized that the un-aerodynamic airbus was stalling. The wind whistled as it whipped around the airbus's rectangular hull.

"Pull... up..." Nack whispered through clenched teeth. The gee forces of their severe acceleration made it difficult for anything to escape his voicebox.

Derek fired the thrusters underneath the forward compartment of the airship, trying to orient the ship so that he could use the main engines to level their descent. For a horrible moment, he met with no success. Then suddenly he could see the horizon through the forward window again. He fired the engines, and the airbus swooped back up into the sky, narrowly missing skimming the surface of the sea.

The airbus arced around in a lazy loop, halting when it was facing the distant shores of the mainland continent.

On the horizon lay the sandy beaches and towering cliff walls of the Great Unknown. In front of them, the hostile speeders had nearly continued their loop, and were once again accelerating towards the airbus. They nimbly spun around each other, as if using interpretive dance to conspire about the best way to continue the hunt.

Gravity inside the airbus normalized as Derek finished their climb. He sucked in air through the gaps in his teeth, taking in all that he could. He had been unable to force air into his lungs during the freefall and steep climb, and was paying for that right now. His thoughts went swimmy.

"We shouldn't have stayed near the city," Nayr lamented. He was surprisingly cool under pressure. "I didn't think they would go after us with airships. You, bounty hunter! I thought you knew about this city. Why didn't you warn us?"

"Hells, I didn't know!" Nack said. Now that his life - *his* life - was in actual danger and there wasn't much he could do about it, he sounded almost as panicked as Derek felt. "This place-- it's changed since I was last here!"

"At least we no longer have to decide what to do next," Nayr said. He paused, and then commanded, "We have to run. Derek, get us over the mainland. We can seek cover more easily there."

"We're not going to be able to outrun them," Derek said, his eyes rooted on the distant pinpricks of the approaching airships. "They'll be on us again before we can reach land at all."

"Threat warning," the computer interjected. "Hostile weapons system has acquired an active targeting lock."

Derek triggered the portside thrusters in a frantic attempt to dodge. The airships fired again.

The first laser skimmed over the airbus's shoulder. It splashed into the sea with enough force that it looked as though a meteor had struck the sea, instead of just an energy weapon. The surface of the water dimpled and splashed, spewing sheets of water and steam sky-high.

The second laser--

The air split with the sound of a piercing explosion. The airbus bucked more violently than it ever had before, and a sheet of flames washed over the forward window.

***

The wall behind Sally exploded.

She had been holding on tight to one of the small notches that once been used to house the passenger compartment's missing chairs. Those notches were very nearly the only objects in the entire cabin that were stable enough to hold onto in the otherwise empty passenger compartment. She'd encouraged the other children to do the same as well; after the sudden freefall, and then two gee acceleration, she'd had little trouble getting the others to do so. Even Sonic followed her order without question now.

She hadn't been looking directly at the wall when it'd happened. There had just been a sudden, intense crackle of yellow light behind her, and then a shockwave hit her - like a fist slamming into her chest - and knocked her to the ground. Debris splashed against her. She lost her grip and slid away from the notch she'd been holding.

At first, she thought the entire event had been silent, but after awhile she realized she simply couldn't hear anything at all. There had been sound, and it had been intense enough to concuss her eardrums into a functionless stupor.

For a moment, she was too stunned to realize what had happened.

Although she couldn't hear the suddenly roaring wind, she could feel it ruffle through her fur. She rolled over, and saw open sky where one of the walls been just a moment before. A gaping hole had been punched through the airbus's hull. The floorboards and wall had been blackened and bent out of shape by the blast. Rivulets of molten metal ran down its sides. They'd been hit!

She couldn't see much of the other children. She just knew that most of them had somehow managed to keep hold of their notches. Of all of them, she'd been the closest to the laser impact, and so had been the worst affected by the explosion.

Sally felt the familiar pit growing in her stomach that meant that the airbus was dropping altitude fast. The ship began to list to one side, slanting the floor downwards towards the gash. Suddenly, instead of sky, she could only see the sea through the whole. Her heart thudded weakly. She instinctively reached out for something to grab onto, some purchase to keep her from slipping down into the hole, but could find nothing.

The ship's list wasn't correcting itself. She began to sliding downwards. Her boots brushed against a few drops of molten metal, and she barely managed to kick it away before it could touch her fur. It left a smoldering patch on her boot heel.

Her clawing fingers managed at last managed to latch inside one of the notches on the slanted floor, and she clung onto it with all her might. Her slide jerked to a halt, straining her arms. She looked up... and then saw that she wasn't the only person who had lost her grip. Bunnie had stumbled and was sliding down towards the gash in the hull. Her mouth was open in a perfect 'O' - if she was shrieking or not, Sally couldn't tell. Her eardrums had been bludgeoned to uselessness.

Everything Rosie had tried to warn her about, on how she was doing nothing but placing the lives of her friends in extreme danger, came back to her in a flash.

Bunnie was about to die.

"No!" Sally cried, unable to even hear her own words. Without thinking, she snaked her left hand out, and grabbed Bunnie's wrist as she slid past. Bunnie's weight jerked them both downwards.

Sally was only hanging onto the notch with her right hand now, and the strain of the weight of two bodies was incredible. Bunnie's legs flailed over the gap. There was nothing but air between them both and a long drop to a quick death.

"Hang on, Bunnie," Sally begged, feeling her lips form the words. She couldn't even hear them echo inside of her own skull. "Please, hang on!"

***

Even from up here, Derek knew that the extent of the damage to the passenger cabin had been bad. In his tiny side-view mirrors, he could see smoke belching from the wound. He could hear the air roaring through it, fierce wind erosion probably doing just as much damage to the hole in the hull as the original laser had. Occasionally the airbus's hull clanged with the impact of pieces of itself flying off the damaged zone and smashing back into the ship's sides.

Even that cacophony was nearly overwhelmed by the sound of the alarms in the cockpit.

The computer voice informed him of the extent of the damage. "Hull breach magnitude two ex nine. Internal sensors blinded; external sensor drones report structural damage. Passenger compartment compromised."

"We know!" Nayr shouted, bitterly.

"Starboard thrusters and flight stabilizers offline," the computer continued. "Auxiliary stabilizers nonresponsive."

Derek was just becoming aware of this fact himself. The pilot's console was still responsive to his commands, thankfully, but nothing else seemed to be working right. The airbus plummeted towards the sea. If he hadn't thought to raise their altitude since last time, they probably would have struck it already. The airbus was beginning to pick up a nasty horizontal tilt. They were listing in the direction of the laser impact. The floor underneath him slanted, and threatened to spill him out of his chair.

One of the console's monitors had lit up with a display of the status of the starboard thrusters. Each individual thruster was depicted a small dot on a schematic picture of the airbus's hull. Half of the dots were colored either dark red or simply black - including a great deal of the thrusters he needed to use to control the ship's motion.

He saw an array of smaller reserve thrusters, all colored green, mounted underneath the zone of greatest damage. He could use those to correct the tilt... but he needed time to activate them. He also needed to fight with the main engines to stop their plummeting. There wasn't enough time to do both.

"I need help!"

Suddenly Nayr was standing beside him, struggling mightily to remain on two feet. Without speaking, his fingers began dancing across the controls that would activate the reserve starboard thrusters. Derek nodded gratefully, and turned his attention to the main engines. He gunned them, praying that the bus wouldn't stall again.

The airbus swooped up over the sea, pulling upwards within a relatively safe margin of thirty meters altitude. With Nack's help, the reserve thrusters came online with a hiss. Derek tilted the ship back onto a level plane as he oriented them back towards the mainland.

The vessel shook and rattled as it righted itself. Wind resistance dragged at the gash in the hull, making the controls seem sluggish, as if its air brakes had deployed. Derek channeled more power into the starboard thrusters to compensate, but that didn't seem to do much.

The hostile airships screeched past overhead, twirling around each other. He wondered if the airships were being controlled by computer. It didn't seem possible for human reflexes to coordinate maneuvers like that.

"We nearly didn't survive that time," Nayr said, without pausing for breath. "We won't be so fortunate again. Get us over the mainland before they come back around."

"Nack," Derek said, "the passenger compartment's been hit. Get back there and make sure the kids are okay."

"I don't take orders from--"

"Just do it!" Derek insisted. He was too frazzled to be very angry, but he managed to fake it well anyway.

"Thrust compensators offline," the computer chimed. "Altitude unstable."

Nack glanced at Nayr, and was just about to open his protest again, when he took a double-take at the suddenly dangerous glint in Nayr's eye. His mouth snapped shut for a moment. At last, he sneered, "Someone, by all the gods, is going to pay for this one," and stood up. The door the passenger compartment hissed open and closed with a burst of wind that nearly knocked Nack's derby off of his head. Derek was relieved to hear the voices of the children in the brief interlude. The breached hull hadn't been enough to blow them out of the ship.

Nayr sat at the sensor console. Derek spared a brief glance from trying to regain altitude to watch him work. He was tapping one of his monitors into an external camera mounted on the airbus's rear end. Within moments, it displayed a view of the air behind the bus. Derek caught a brief glimpse of the flashy white dots of the pursuing airships.

"They're coming around again," Nayr said. "Gun the engines."

The engines were already going on maximum thrust. The mighty wind resistance coming through that gash was slowing them down too much. Derek looked out the forward window, expecting to see a hopeless situation... but instead he saw that, even with their reduced speed, they'd still be able to make it over land before the airships caught up with them again.

But then what?

There wasn't much about the land that would help them much more than just being over open sea. So long as they were in the air, they were vulnerable prey.

Derek spared a glance out the forward window. The shoreline looked about as inviting as Nimbus Island had: in other words, not very. The Great Unknown wasn't famed for sightseeing opportunities. There weren't any scattered bomb craters or other signs of ancient battle, but the terrain was just as desolate and inhospitable. It wasn't even the rich brown color of full desert; it was too close to sea for that. Instead, it was a colorless gray wasteland. Even the rocks and sand had been bled of color. The beach was flat and uninteresting for a couple hundred meters, but then the ground cracked and jutted, forming the first of several snaking rocky canyons and valleys.

The airbus shook violently, and this time it wasn't because they had been hit. This shuddering was unprompted. The blown hull had destabilized the ship's structure. Derek could feel it. They were starting to fall apart.

The sea underneath them turned to a blanket of gray sand as the airbus crossed the border between water and land. The screech of the Ackten Sea ship's ion engines redoubled in magnitude as the pilots poured on speed to catch up with their quarry. The canyons ahead of them became closer, clearer. They were a web of snaking and twisting gorges and cliffs, etched in the soil by untold millennia of water erosion from rivers long since evaporated. There was no water down there now, though there must have been years before. The walls were small close to the beach, but they grew in size and stature further inland, convoluted tunnels of curving rock... tunnels.... Derek saw it almost at the same time Nayr did. He hit the forward thrusters, angling the airbus downwards.

"Head for the canyons," Nayr said quickly. "We can use them to shield ourselves from their fire. Go! Just don't crash into a cliff!"

Derek steered the airbus towards the mouth of one of the canyons. The airbus didn't seem to so much enter it as much the cliff walls seemed to rise up along both sides of them. The curving, sloping cliffs would be a definite hazard to navigation, but they would hopefully be able to block incoming laser fire. The idea was clear. By dodging through the cliffs, they'd stand of greater chance of avoiding and dodging enemy fire than they would in open air. Even more, since the other airships moved much faster than the clunky airbus, their pilots would have a harder time steering.

He couldn't worry about what they would do if they lived beyond a few minutes. All of his efforts were devoted only to surviving the next attack run.

The two white airships screamed across the boundary delineating sand and sea. They were plainly visible on the monitor Nayr had turned to a rear view. They skimmed close to the ground, already fully aware of where the airbus was leading them. They were unfazed. To Derek, they even seemed supremely confident, dancing around each other and swooping close to the ground... as though their quarry was falling into a trap that only they were aware.

Derek felt the fur on the back of his neck rise. They were closer than they ever had been before, and he still hadn't heard the computer's threat warning system chime in with a warning about a targeting lock yet. They should have fired by now. They were certainly close enough to.

Then again, the threat warning system wouldn't go off if the other airships weren't targeting the airbus specifically, now would it?

Derek's fist slammed down on the upward thruster controls.

The airships fired. The lasers speared through air well above the airbus, missing by such a wide margin that it was apparent that airbus had never been their target at all. The laser beams crossed each other with barely an interstice between them. They detonated against opposite canyons walls, just above and ahead of the airbus. A dark cloud of dust and debris splashed outward from each impact point... and an avalanche of rocks cascaded downwards.

Nayr swore loudly, but even his deep-throated voice was drowned out by the roar of the engines.

The lethal rain of boulders covered the valley ahead of them. The sleet of stones pelted the valley floor and anything else unlucky enough to be caught underneath it. The airbus dove upwards in a desperate attempt to avoid it. Only by virtue of Derek's early use of the upward thrusters was the airbus able to escape. It swept over the very top of the cloud of dust. A few loose pebbles clattered against the windshield, but none of them struck hard enough to crack the glass. Below them, the debris spread out against the ground in a torrent that surely would have crushed the airbus to death if it had remained on course.

Derek felt as though the blood in his veins had turned to pure adrenaline, and his nerves sheets of weak glass that had long since been shattered. He had never been in a situation quite so dangerous before. He knew that if he took the time to think about how close he'd just come to death, he would pass out - so he didn't think about it.

The airbus buffeted again in the wake of the disturbed air left behind by the passage of the other airships. For the first time, it was obvious that they'd made a piloting error. They'd only barely pulled up, expecting the avalanche they'd unleashed to bury their prey; they hadn't expected the airbus to predict their plans and launch itself upwards.

They'd had to move upwards themselves in order to avoid colliding with the airbus, and in doing so, perhaps they'd overcompensated. They spun about together in a confused tumble that took a moment or two to realign itself. They were above the cliff walls, and thus in no danger of crashing, but the tumble still cost them an extra moment or two before they could slow and turn again. It meant that the airbus would have an extra minute before they were able to begin their next attack run.

The wind in the pilot's compartment picked up as the door to the passenger cabin opened again. Nack rushed in, keeping the derby on his head with a raised hand. The wind tried to lick it off one last time before the door closed again.

"They're all okay," Nack said. "There were a few close calls, but they're all there. Just don't shake this boat too much, or they'll all go flying out that hole like money through the tear in your pocket."

Derek was immensely relieved. It was bad enough being responsible for the safety of several children in such dangerous circumstances, but to be accountable for the heir of the Mobian throne was a burden he nearly couldn't accept.

"Even that trussed-up human managed to stay inside," Nack said, sitting down again. "A shame."

The airships got their act together, and began the lazy arc that would take them back around for another attack on the airbus. Derek was entirely out of ideas. He couldn't take them back into the canyons without risking being buried under another artificial avalanche. He couldn't stay in the air, either, not without being riddled with laser holes again.

It had been sheer luck that when they'd been hit, it had been in a relatively inconsequential area of the ship. Next time, the lasers would probably strike the main engines. The airbus simply didn't have enough maneuverability to avoid another attack run, let alone keep this one-sided cat-and-mouse game going for long enough to get a safe distance away from the pirates of Nimbus Island.

"We need a plan," Derek said. "We're not going to survive another attack!"

"We don't have enough time to land anywhere," Nayr said. "We'd get shot before we could make it to the door. I was wrong. Those cliffs were less cover than I thought they would be." Derek shivered at the uncharacteristic fatalist regret in Nayr's voice. The sadosii sounded as though he'd given up. "I'm sorry."

The airships swept past each other, one above and the other below; halfway through completing the arc that would bring them back around towards the airbus.

Nack paused for a moment, eyes rooted on the rocky canyons and valleys zipping by below. They had progressed fairly far inland already, and the apathetic gray of the sand near the sea was already turning into a rich, dry brown. Derek wondered briefly if it would be the last color he'd ever see.

"Hey," Nack said, "I know this area. These canyons are riddled with caves. We can take cover in them."

Derek protested, "They'll chase us and blow us to bits before we can even get out of the ship--"

"Not these caves," Nack cut him off. "Trust me, kid, I know this area. I used to take cover here all the time, either from the heat from King Acorn, Robotnik, or my friends at Ackten Sea. It didn't matter who was chasing me, they could never find me. Nobody knows about 'em but me. There's some kind of mineral or something in the cave walls that fouls up their sensors. They won't detect us if we enter. If they don't actually see us going into one of those caves, they'll never be able to find us."

"Well, quick, where are they?"

"I... uh... don't know," Nack admitted. "They're scattered about, and they're pretty rare. They're not just any cave. But I can scan for them. I can send out an active sensor ping across the ground, and wherever the ping doesn't come back, that's where one of the caves are." His lips distended into a sneer. "With your permission, of course, kid."

The airships had almost completed their circle. The time they had brought from the airships' earlier miscalculations had almost expired.

"Start! Go!" Derek exclaimed.

He dropped the airship a couple dozen meters in altitude, and kicked in the maneuvering thrusters, rotating them until they were facing well away from the hostile airships. They'd need all the time advantages they could get over these predators, even the few seconds of space the airbus's meager engine acceleration would buy them.

He felt his stomach lurch as the airbus fell, but this time it wasn't as bad as the freefall had been.

Nack brusquely shoved Nayr out of the seat by the sensor console, and took it himself. The sadosii growled somewhere in the back of his throat, but, after considering the circumstances, he allowed it to happen without further protest. He took a seat further back. Nack's fingers flashed across the controls in practiced movements, unperturbed by the airbus's violent motion. Soon, Derek heard the steady pulse of high-pitched pings echoing and returning.

He didn't know very much about sensor technologies, but he knew from the sound that they operated in a manner similar to old-style submarine sonar. Nack listened carefully to the noise, and studied his displays.

"There," he said suddenly. "There's a cluster of caverns dead ahead. The closest one is at a bearing seven degrees east of our original course." He pointed out the windshield, and Derek saw the cliff he was referring to. It was fairly distant, but it was still close enough that Derek could see the dark speck of the cave entrance near the of the canyon wall.

"I see it," Derek said. His stomach lurched as he dropped the airbus yet closer to the ground. He turned the airbus until it was directly facing the cavern entrance. On the rear-facing camera display, the two airships had just finished their arc and were once again beginning to close in. "We just have to get inside it without being seen, or shot down!"

"No problem," Nack insisted, and then added, "I think. Just dive down into the canyon before you enter the cave. They'll lose visual contact, and we still have enough time left to get there before they catch up with us."

"I'll give it a shot," Derek said. "No promis--"

A laser flashed by the windshield. The air roared with a sound more like a thunderbolt than an explosion; the sharp clap from superheated air expanding, rapidly cooling, and then collapsing in on the vacuum.

Derek instinctively flinched. Because he had his hands on the piloting controls, the airbus flinched with him. The airbus rattled. A slow, horrible creaking noise vibrated through the hull somewhere underneath him. He was once again conscious of exactly how unstable the airbus's structure had become.

The laser shot hadn't been aimed at them. It had just barely missed, them, true, but it hadn't been targeting them directly. The threat warning system would have told them if it had. Instead, the laser impact against the distant cliff wall, erupting in another cloud of dust.

"What the hells...?" Nack started to ask.

Another thunderbolt rattled the hull as a laser shot past them. Derek saw where the airships were aiming. A slow dread overcame him; he actually would have preferred it if they had just been targeting the airbus. This time the laser struck its mark squarely. It hit the roof of the cavern - the very same cavern that Nack had indicated, the one they had been flying towards. The cave entrance collapsed in an avalanche of rocks and debris, rending the whole the cavern inaccessible.

"Oh, gods!" Nack exclaimed. He was trying - and failing - to hide the panic bubbling up in his voice. "They knew where we were heading!"

The cavern had still been some distance away. Sure, it hadn't been a moving target, but even so it had to have been an incredibly difficult shot for those airships. They had predicted the airships' movements admirably, on top of that. Derek was beginning to seriously wonder if those ships were being flown by computer, after all.

"I thought you said they didn't know about the caves!" Nayr said, bitterly.

"They don't- I mean, they shouldn't!"

"Threat warning," the airbus computer told them. "Hostile weapons system has acquired an active targeting lock."

Derek immediately punched a set of sequential commands into the piloting console, ordering the airbus to swoop upwards, and them immediately cut the engines and dive downwards and to the right. He hoped the motion would be chaotic enough to throw off the airships' targeting. He tapped the 'execute' button, and grabbed a hold of both his chair's armrests. "Hang on!"

The airbus's engines executed his orders precisely as he programmed them, and in the proper order. He had programmed them as a subroutine for the computer to automatically follow because he knew that the gee forces of these maneuvers would be too intense for him to reliably control anything manually. Behind him, he heard the airbus's decrepit engines begin to rumble, and the ship's damaged hull begin to shake once more. The floor slanted upwards, and suddenly he felt his body being pressed backwards into the chair at twice his normal weight. His ribcage twinged and groaned, and felt just as unstable as the ship's structure. All he could see through the windshield was the bright, cloudless sky.

"Threat warning: hostile weapons system has acquired an active shooting solution."

Then, just as suddenly the floor fell away underneath him. He caught a quick glimpse of two laser beams sear through the sky above him before his view suddenly rotated, and he was staring directly at the muddled brown canyons below. They approached at a rapid speed... and his stomach felt every kph of it. The shock of the sudden null gravity forced the air out of his lungs. Even afterwards, he couldn't quite close his mouth, as though even more were about to be driven from his stomach.

The rear monitor showed him that the airships were keeping pace this time. They had learned from the last couple times they'd tried to shoot down the airbus, and slowed enough so that they wouldn't immediately overshoot them. This left them clear to take even more shots at the airbus.

Derek cursed. He hadn't expected that. Even now, he could feel their laser cannons recharging.

The airbus leveled out as the last of his preprogrammed instructions executed. His hands were immediately at the controls the instant he felt gravity being normalized. He executed a short turn to port. Since that was the opposite direction of the hull gash, and there was no risk of anyone in the passenger compartment accidentally being knocked out of the hull gash, he even allowed the floor to slant sharply.

Another two lasers seared through empty space directly to his right. The air rumbled, laden with the backwash of superheated air.

The airships maintained their distance directly behind the airbus. Derek couldn't keep avoiding their volleys. It was only luck alone that had saved them thus far, and unless he shook them soon, not even it would hold up. Even if they found any more caverns, there wasn't enough time to fly towards them, not with the Ackten Sea airships directly behind them. There couldn't be any more running now. Either they found a way to shake their pursuers, or they would all die right here. This was the endgame.

Nack solidified his grip on his armrests, and squeezed his eyes shut. He was clearly preparing for death.

"We need help," Derek tried to say. Underneath the dual strain of the fear and the gee forces, his voice came out ragged. "We have to find some way to fire back or we're not going to survive..."

"Bright idea, kid!" Nack burst. "This ship is unarmed!"

Nayr was motionless. He wasn't holding onto his seat, but somehow even in the shifting gravity he stayed in one place. A queer expression came across his face.

Derek tried to throw off the predators with a sweeping arc, and then airbraking. He knew even as he moved that it wouldn't work. True enough, the airships decelerated kept pace admirably. They were too maneuverable to be thrown off by such an amateur dodge. They were lining up their cannons for another shot.

Nayr leapt out of his chair, grumbling something about 'echidnas' and 'never saw myself' under his breath. The door to the passenger compartment hissed shut behind him.

The airships fired again. Static energy crackled over the ship's hull as each subsequent near-hit came closer and closer.

***

J�Ran was still deep in her mediation; the oscillations of gravity or the hole that had been punched into the side of the airbus not withstanding. The wind coming through the gash in the hull fluttered her dreadlocks, and brushed them against the side of her face, but she paid them no attention. She looked absolutely unperturbed by her surroundings. She might as well have been asleep. She gave Nayr the impression that she knew that her fate was out of her control for the moment, and once she had accepted that, she was content to let it remain so.

Nayr grabbed her roughly by the shoulders and shook her out of it. Her eyes fluttered open. He didn't care about the delicacy of echidna mediations, and wasn't afraid to let her know about it. "You will help us or you will die," he told her. Yet there was no malice in his voice.

"Is that supposed to be a threat, my friend?" she asked, softly.

"No, it's supposed to be a fact. I have no wish to harm you myself, and I won't need to."

He leveled his finger towards the open gash in the hull. The screech of the enemy's ion engines was distinctly audible through it. He swallowed, and seemed uncharacteristically awkward for a moment, as if what he had just swallowed down had actually been his pride.

"We need your help. Everyone on this vehicle, yourself included, will die very soon - unless we can find a way to delay or eliminate our pursuers. We need your abilities."

"I see," J�Ran said. She made no attempt to rub in the fact that Nayr was obviously uncomfortable with this; much to the Sadosii�s relief. She nodded. "I don't expect I'll be much help, but... I can try. My abilities have distinct limits. You realize that there are many things I can't do, and saving us here may be one of them."

"I only ask that you make the attempt," Nayr said, "for your sake as well as the rest of ours."

J�Ran nodded, and let her head fold back downwards towards her chest. She shut her eyes and seemed to engage in mediation once again, but there was something distinctly different about her this time. A palpable aura of energy, nearly imperceptible, filled the air around her. "I see a thousand manifold possibilities for every event in this maelstrom. I will try to guide reality towards the most favorable ones. This conflict... it is very chaotic. Chaos can be controlled..."

***

"Threat warning: hostile weapons system has achieved an active targeting lock."

"Keep scanning for caverns," Derek told Nack, while trying his best to steer the airbus out of the laser range of the trailing airships. They had fallen behind recently, and so Derek had gunned the airbus's engines, trying to use that distance to maximum advantage. "They're still our only permanent way out of this."

Nack wasn't listening. He must've known that Derek was just trying to keep him occupied; keep them all busy until the end came. His eyes were rooted on the rear-facing camera monitor.

"There's no way out, and... dodge, kid, they're gonna fire!"

Derek jammed the flight controls as far to port as he could. The airbus turned out of the airships' weapons range, but they had anticipated that move this time. They swept around, following the airbus through its arc, and ended up with it inside their targeting reticules once again. The lead ship's laser cannon was fully charged. There wasn't enough time to dodge again.

Nack inhaled sharply. Derek shut his eyes...

The airbus rattled more violently than it ever had before, and Derek felt himself being shoved backwards into his chair. At first, he thought they'd been hit again. The shuddering was violent enough that it could have been a laser impact. Instead, though, he heard the hiss of another missed laser shot coming from directly below them. He opened his eyes. They hadn't been hit at all.

The rattling had been a freak wind current. It had knocked the airbus upwards, and just barely out of path of the incoming laser.

For a moment, he stared dumbly at the controls. He'd never felt wind that strong in all the time he'd spent piloting; not in this ship, or any other. That had been a hell of a coincidence. It had saved them, too.

Then instinct kicked in again, and he was back at the piloting controls. Blind luck may have saved them once, but only the lead airship had fired. The other still had yet to let loose its own salvo. Blind luck could kill them just as easily as it had saved them, and the odds were still far against them.

The second airship opened fire.

***

J�Ran concentrated her efforts on the airships themselves now.

"...chaos can be guided..."

***

The pilot of the second airship - a gorilla both by species and by nature - pressed the 'fire' button. The airbus was lined up perfectly within his sights. There was no chance of another miss.

His cannon fired, spitting out a razor-sharp spear of light. The gorilla grinned savagely. He knew the result even before he saw the laser strike. It smashed directly into the rear of the airbus, a perfect hit. His naked eye, unaided by ship's sensors, could see the brilliant yellow glow of the impact.

The laser crackled weakly against the airbus's hull, and dissipated entirely. It had done no damage.

The ship's computer told him what had happened with a brief warning display. An unusual amount of moisture had collected on the leads of the laser cannon's power cells, and blunted the energy discharge. When he had fired, he had fired with less than a hundred of the laser's normal energy. At most, he'd singed his target, and nothing else.

He shifted his laser cannon to draw power from reserve cells, and howled his rage against the injustice of it all.

***

"...chaos can be manipulated..."

***

The engines malfunctioned next. The same moisture that had collected around the laser cannon's power cells had spread through to the propulsion system. No matter how many backups the gorilla tried to switch to, or reserve systems he tried to activate, there was a steady power drain coming from his hovership's generator. He considered the options. Either he had flown through a patch of terribly moist air, moist to have formed a storm cloud under ordinary circumstances, or... this was some kind of trap that the airbus had laid.

Moisture was very rare in the Great Unknown.

The airbus launched itself ahead of him, slipping further and further into the distance. It hadn't escaped - not at all - but it had gained a healthy lead on him, and delayed its inevitable end yet again.

The same thing was happening to his partner. The other airship was slowing down at exactly the same pace, and his engines sputtered erratically. If this was due to the same malfunction he was experiencing over here, there was no way of telling.

Then, as suddenly as the malfunction had started, it ceased, and he was able to move at full speed again.

***

J�Ran held onto the trance for as long as she could, and then collapsed, shuddering. She fell into someone's strong arms. She'd done all she could at the expense of the energies she could muster, and could do nothing else except fall, spent and exhausted.

She was surprised to see that it was the sadosii, of all people, who had kept her from falling flat on her face.

"There," she said. "I've done all I can... but I don't think it'll be enough."

***

Derek kept airbus moving, putting as much thrust into the engines as they were capable of. The engine intermix was behaving more efficiently than he'd ever seen it do before. Something seemed to have bolstered their own speed, while curtailing that of their pursuers, and it didn't take him very long to figure out what.

"It's J�Ran," he said. "She's some kind of magician. She did that."

Nack stared at the rear display monitor, watching the airships recede towards the horizon. With one hand, he tilted his derby upwards, almost as a gesture of respect. "I've got to have her teach me that trick..."

Without warning, the engines shuddered - and went back to their unusual clunky manner of operation. The airships behind them began to pick up speed again. Nack's face fell. Derek felt a cold knot of dread in his chest. Whatever the unnatural disturbance had been, it was over now. The world was back to being slanted against them; all odds in favor of their swift demise.

Derek tried unsuccessfully to milk more speed out of the engines. "Nack, what are waiting for?" he asked, agitated. "Get back on the sensors, and find us another cavern. There's not much time left!"

Nack stared at him for a moment, and then his face hardened. The display of magic seemed to have energized him. He moved without reluctance or protest this time. He knew that it was his own life on the line, and not just a bunch of kids he cared nothing about. Nothing motivated him more than his own continued survival. He was all business. Any moral disagreements and other conflicts between him and the wannabe Freedom Fighters would have to come at a later date.

"Right." Nack triggered the sensors again. After a couple empty sensor pings, he reported, "I've found a new one. Target bearing three degrees east of our original course."

Derek could barely see it, but at least he saw it. He served the airbus until they were aligned on it.

The airships were almost directly on their tail again. In a few seconds, it would be as though J'ran's magical save had never happened.

A laser flashed viciously past the windshield. Since the computer hadn't given him a threat warning, Derek's darkened mind already knew where it was headed. The other airships clearly hadn't forgotten about the airbus's earlier attempted run towards one of Nack's sensor-shielded caverns. The laser struck the cavern ceiling squarely, and collapsed it in on itself. Frustration boiled in his veins.

"Cripes, they're pissed," Nack muttered. "But don't mind them, kid. I've already found another one. New target bearing four and a half degrees right of our original course. This time, don't turn towards it until you can't avoid it. Don't let them know where we're head--"

"Threat warning," the computer said. "Hostile weapons system has acquired an active shooting solution."

Derek's hands froze. The announcement had taken him by surprise. He couldn't reach the piloting controls in time to dodge this one.

"Oh, shi--!"

This time, the laser was at its fullest strength. It struck the rear of the ship squarely... and went right into one of the propulsion exhaust tubes.

To say that the engines blew apart would have been an understatement.

Solid grip or no, the detonation was powerful enough to throw Derek out of his seat and into a sprawl across the pilot's controls. Buttons and levels jabbed painfully into his sides as he fell upon them at what was clearly more than his normal weight. He cracked his heard sharply against the console, and cried out at the pain. His vision blackened. He caught a brief glimpse of Nack being cast out of his chair and on the deck. The floor bucked forwards, and the entire airbus lurched �downwards. Everything jolted

The cabin's overhead lights flickered and extinguished. So did most of the control lights. The ship's generators were no longer existent. The dying crackle of the engines was lost underneath the thunderous roar of the airbus's entire engine compartment exploding.

Metal debris that had once been a solid part of the airbus's hull now scattered in every direction, clanging against the windshield and the sides of the pilot's compartment. One particularly large fragment struck the glass and punched through. It slotted neatly into the broken glass. The debris looked to be stuck in place for a moment, but the curtain of flame from the explosion washed over the windshield next must have been powerful enough to remove it; when Derek looked next, it was no longer there. Spiderweb fractures snaked across the glass, and it threatened to splinter.

The sinking in his gut was more than dread. The airbus was falling. Derek was left with an indescribable crawling horror in his stomach - the absolutely unique shock that one experiences when the machine they were trapped in, one that had formerly flown like a bird, was suddenly plummeting like a brick.

He would have wailed, if the impact with the console hadn't knocked the wind out of him.

Select controls and displays lit up again. Derek only noticed this because of the few that lit up directly underneath where he lay. Somewhere, somehow, there was still energy coursing through them. He wasn't sure how, because the last thing he'd seen before the power had been knocked out entirely was a status report saying that the ship's engines - their only power generator - had been entirely demolished by the blast.

"Reserve batteries online," the computer reported. "Power output minimal."

Derek tried once to pull himself off of the pilot's console, to no avail. Freefall was a terrifyingly disorienting experience. He closed his eyes, and concentrated.

When he was a kid, and the old Mobian space program was still in full swing, like many kids his age he'd imagined what it would be like to be an astronaut. He'd imagined what it would be like to move around out in space, in zero gravity. He took every one of those ancient memories and switched them to the forefront of his mind. He kicked off of the console, and floated back to his chair, which he did his best to pull himself back into. The most he could manage was a floating approximation.

Derek wasn't a believer in gods or most religions. He'd rejected the tenets of most faiths after the coup - none of them had foreseen that tragedy, none of them could explain it. It was easy enough to find evil in the mundane world without looking for evil of a mythical sort as well.

...Yet...

Despite that firm disbelief, right now he didn't just trust, he *knew* that there was a way to escape this particular death. There had to be. They'd come too close to escaping. Things like finding these mineral-laded caverns, and then J'ran's save... they just didn't happen only to let the recipients of such miracles die anyway. The universe wasn't that cruel. If it wanted to kill them, it would have killed them over the sea, and not dragged out the chase for this long. There had to be a way out of this. There was no question.

Derek supposed that even if he didn't find a way to save them, he lost nothing in the trying, anyway.

Somewhere in the background the computer was rattling off a inventory of the incurred damage. It was a long list. Over it, he heard Nack shout, "Emergency thruuuu---- sters!"

The reserve thrusters indeed weren't powered by the ship's missing engines. They were mostly hot gas jets, controlled by a pressure/release mechanism that was entirely independent of the larger power grid. Derek immediately analyzed the situation. Those thrusters were weak, and meant only to provide maneuvering ability. They were most definitely not intended for primary propulsion, and they wouldn't be able to keep the bus up in the air for very long.

Derek could only control their descent; he could not stop it.

Thankfully, the airbus had only barely begun to tilt forward. They were falling, but they weren't in much danger of actually stalling out. Derek fired all the emergency thrusters at once. All over the underside of the airbus, valves hissed open, and streams of highly-pressurized gas shot down. A stream of moist fog from the thrusters mingled with the billowing smoke coming from the wreckage of the airbus's engines.

The floor leveled, but the airbus didn't stop falling. Some force pushed him back down into his chair, but it certainly wasn't as strong as normal gravity. It was about a half a gee at most. Moving around was almost as difficult as it had been in freefall; this is what he imagined gravity on the lunar surface must feel like. His innards felt as though they were all about to forcibly evacuate him via his throat. He swallowed sharply, as if trying to keep them inside.

Nack scrambled to his knees, and did his best to crawl back up onto the chair nearby the sensor controls. He seemed to do it more for support than anything else. The sensor consoles had been extinguished along with the rest of the compartment's lights. The only thing still working was the monitor displaying the image from the rear-facing external camera.

The airships spun gleefully around each other, as if gloating. They pulled back, but held their fire. They thought they'd won already. They probably had.

The airbus's original velocity had yet to be eroded by wind resistance, and they had been moving at a nice speed before they had been hit. The airbus was slow to accelerate, but once it got moving, its immense mass gave it a hell of an inertia. Engines or no, momentum was still carrying them forward at a fast clip. Derek did a quick mental calculative of their trajectory: they would hit the ground long before they stopped moving forward horizontally.

They were still heading towards that last cave. They were on-course enough that even the tiny maneuvering thrusters would be good enough to correct their course and land them inside.

Derek considered asking Nack to go back to the passenger compartment and see how bad the damage back there was, but decided against it. Nack wouldn't listen; probably wouldn't be able to comply even if he did want to listen. Moving anywhere in a falling airship was an impossible task. Besides, the passenger compartment hardly seemed to matter at this point. Even if everybody back there had died in the explosion... there wasn't anything either of them could do about it.

Maybe he was just too selfish to think about the kids now. Maybe he was just showing his true colors at last. There wasn't any time to even be afraid for them - there was just his own survival instinct.

"It was a good run, kid," Nack said, voice vibrating in tune with the violent shuddering of the deck. "It doesn't really matter at this point... but you should know that we really didn't stand a chance of escaping anyway."

Derek kept his hands on the thruster controls, but aside from keeping them firing at full strength, there wasn't much he could do. "Why is t-that?"

"Those two airships weren't the only ones that they sent after us." He pointed at the rear camera monitor, where suddenly Derek could see a distinct third dot in the sky. "Ackten Sea's sending another ship to finish us off, with more reinforcements probably right behind it."

The airbus swooped into the canyon where the cavern was waiting. Derek could see it clearly now along the top of the cliff wall. There were some other similar cave entrances on the same level as it was, but, judging by Nack's sensor analysis, they didn't have the same mineral properties. Curiously enough, there didn't seem to be cave entrances along the bottom of the cliff wall. The anomaly hardly registered.

Derek tried to keep them on course towards that one cave. He didn't care if the airships saw where he was going, or tried to shoot him down. There wasn't much he could do if they decided to shoot him down, or even start another avalanche just above them. Without any engines, the airbus had next to no maneuvering ability. There was just one long plummet left before this trip came to a very sudden end.

"The airships are closing on us again," Nack said, soft enough to be a whisper. "They're targeting us. I think this is it, kid..."

Derek looked at the rear-facing camera monitor just in time to see a laser spear through one of the airships.

The white airship fell apart in a plume of yellow flame. The ship was fast and easy to steer, but it paid for that by being dangerously fragile, even moreso than the airbus. The energy stored within the ion engines was released in a catastrophic explosion, casting a sphere of debris in every direction. The airship's rear end detonated in a brilliant crackle of white light. In an instant, there was nothing left of it besides a fleeting cascade of liquid fire and a sheet of molten debris. The disparate pieces left behind trails of smoke as they followed their inevitable trajectories back down to the ground.

The second airship peeled away immediately, firing its maneuvering thrusters in a sudden panic to escape. The newcomer, the airship that had fired that shot that had destroyed its companions, followed directly behind it.

Nack started, "That's..."

The newcomer wasn't a reinforcement from Ackten Sea, as Nack had guessed. Now that it was closer, and it was more plainly visible, Derek could see that it was the Robotropolis patrol unit he'd stolen the day before.

The stolen patrol unit clearly had experienced hands at its helm. It was executing a full powered descent, yet it remained steady enough to align the second airship in its sights. When the laser fired, it still missed its mark, but it came closer than Derek would have thought possible under the circumstances.

"...Sprocket," Derek finished Nack's sentence, ruefully.

Derek couldn't even be glad for his friend's arrival. The blind, unthinking force that controlled him - pure survival instinct - wouldn't let him. Sprocket had arrived too late. He may have drawn the predator's attention away from the defenseless airbus, but it still seemed likely that everyone aboard would die anyway. The cliff wall was approaching far too rapidly. Derek realized, with a shock, that the air brakes weren't functioning. Their control mechanism had been blown away with the bus's engines.

He did his best to steer the bus towards the cavern entrance, knowing that if he missed his mark even slightly the airbus would burst apart against the canyon walls. Hell, they were moving fast enough that they'd probably just crash into the cavern's far wall once they entered, but at least then they'd have another second or two of life.

When he'd done all he could, Derek held onto his chair's armrests, and squeezed his eyes shut.

Then came the worst part of this entire ordeal.

Derek realized that he didn't care about anybody else's life right now. Somewhere in the deepest recess of his mind, he knew that he should wish Sprocket good luck in his pitched battle against the other airship. He couldn't. He couldn't even muster the will to try. He couldn't even be angry with Sprocket, for taking off in the patrol ship ahead of time, and putting them all into this situation. He couldn't do that, either. Even more, Nack, Nayr, J�Ran, Snively, the kids: if they all died, he simply wouldn't care. If all the children, even the heir to the Royal Throne, were to be slaughtered and killed in the most barbaric, inhumane fashion... he wouldn't be able to summon the most basic of feelings about it. They could already *be* dead, and, at this moment, it wouldn't make a difference to him. Mobius itself could be roboticized and he wouldn't blink. He felt nothing for his grand quest to free the world from the tyranny of a mad dictator. Nothing but his own well-being mattered to him. He couldn't make himself feel anything except his own ravenous survival instinct.

In all his life, Derek had never imagined himself as being capable of such cruelty.

This was the moment that he knew that he wasn't cut out to be a Freedom Fighter.

The forward window went dark as the airbus flew through the cavern entrance. He didn't open his eyes. He didn't want to know what the cavern floor looked like as it rushed towards them. He would've wished himself dead - if only the instinct had allowed it. He moaned, and, afterlife or no, knew himself to be truly damned.

Impact.

-------------------------------------

Post 76:

Dominic Smith

Antoine was in good sprits, an unusual occurrence of late. While the other children had embraced this freedom fighting with a ravenous zeal he had been somewhat less enthusiastic about it.

"Are we to be going hom?" Antoine asked happily while looking out of one of the portholes. Although it was a rhetorical question Sally felt obliged to answer it anyway.

"Probably, we weren't invited to tag along and so far we've been a real burden to them."

The other children just stared at her, never before had they heard Sally talk so pessimistically about the freedom fighter cause. Sally bobbed her head down and began chewing on her knuckle; she bit down hard on it when to her surprise she felt light pressure on her shoulder. She looked up already guessing what she'd see.

Sonic's face was warm and comforting, it spoke to her without uttering a word. 'Its ok Sal, everything gonna turn out way past cool you'll see' the eyes seemed to say. Sally expected to then hear the unspoken words that Sonic would let them spill off his tongue but instead he just winked at her, an unnerving smile stretching across his face like sunlight across the land at down. She returned Sonic's smile with a puzzled expression, what was he thinking, she thought. Her question was soon answered when abruptly Sonic leapt to his feet, since all of them had been sitting in their rough freedom fighter circle, and then shouted.

"Everyone cruse, that's not the real Sally it's one of Buttnick's evil robots!" The scene erupted into a mixture of amusement from Bunny and Rotor and panic from Antoine and Dulcy who were a little slow to realize it was just a joke.

"M...m...my Princess?" Antoine stuttered confused pushing himself back on his hands while Dulcy let out a high picked squeak.

Sally on the other hand just sighed wearily casting a sidelong glance at the cocky hedgehog who was doing a silly victory dance and grinning widely at her. She bit her bottom lip to stop a giggle escaping, not wanting to give Sonic the satisfaction of seeing her bowled over by his immaturity, an evil robot indeed, she mused, will he ever grow up?

"Sonic" she said, shaking her head, "what am I going to with you?"

"well" Sonic said, losing none of his momentum from the put down, "I can think of a few things" then with his eyes growing wide and with a real struggle to maintain control he added, "but we should probably wait till we're a little older" and clamped his teeth together and purred at her.

Sally gasped as Sonic collapsed onto his back laughing his head off.

"Oh my" Bunny exclaimed growing as red as a strawberry, Rotor pretended to take a keen interest in the buses ceiling in a vane attempt to keep out of the situation, Antoine was left speechless like Sally while Dulcy let out a quirt.

"Huh?"

Sally was furious.

"Sonic!" She fumed, "one of these days I'm going to--"

"Ah so you agree with me then?" Sonic forced out through his laughter cutting Sally off mid sentence.

"AAAAHHHHH!" Sally moaned launching herself at Sonic where they began playfully wrestling each other.

*

Sitting at the controls Derek heard the loud moan, he didn't think it was anything serious, it was after all not a scream but he still felt he'd better check it out anyway.

"I'll do my best he said" finishing his conversation with Nayr and got up from his seat adding,

"But I think we should be fine for now. I'm going to go back and see how the others are doing."

*

As the door to the crew compartment opened Sonic and Sally jumped off each other as though they were a pair of horny teens caught in the act of lovemaking by one of their parents. When Derek entered he saw all the children sitting down nice and civilized while Sally, after clearing her throat began addressing the group. The last thing they wanted was to appear anything but an organized and mature group of young freedom fighters in front of Derek, they saw him as their role modal now not Rosy.

"So" Sally began, "does anyone have a suggestion regarding what we're going to do once we get dumped back in Knothole like babies in a playpen?"

"I am thinking we...stay?" Antoine offered meekly.

"Ok" Sally said, "now does anyone have a useful suggestion regarding what we're going to do?" Antoine folded his arms feeling rejected.

"If we're gonna take on old Buttnik we gotta know more about Robotropolis" Sonic offered.

"That's right Sonic" Sally replied, "but we've asked Nicole that before and she couldn't help."

"Maybe not Nicole Sal" Sonic said, then in a low voice, so low that before he spoke he leaned forward and beckoned the children to do the same, "but I'm sure needle nose has all the answers we need." After finishing he glanced over to the rear compartment where Derek and Nack were talking, Snively�s form just visible on the edge of the opening.

Sally was impressed, she realized that in spite of his immature outburst only moments earlier Sonic could, on occasion, show real insight. If only you showed it a little more often, she thought with a mixture of amusement and disappointment. Before a response was possible Derek surprised them all by enquiring about their well-being.

"And how are you all do--" Derek like Sally was cut off, although not by a voice but by the loud hiss of the door to the pilots compartment.

Nayr carried himself with the confidence, or was it the arrogance, of a General storming into a barracks. Although she and indeed all the other children had seen Nayr's rare show of emotion earlier when he had been talking to the echidna earlier at any other time he was as stiff as plank of wood. It surprised her that felt a little chilly when he was near her, had she not shuffled out the way she was sure he would have stepped on her. She wondered if he would have said sorry, she wondered if he would have even noticed.

Derek and Nayr started talking and knowing Derek would ask his question again once they'd finished, thought it best to sit politely and wait. After a time he did and said.

"Sorry about the interruption, I was about to ask you how you kids were doing." Right away Sally took offence to him referring to them as kids, she was about to shout but stopped herself realizing that would only prove his point. A protest had to be made all right, but it must be done in an adult way and so with calm restrain she answered.

"First of all, don't call us kids and second of all, don't worry about us. I've got everybody organized back here, and we're keeping watch on Snively for you." At the mention of, 'keeping watch on Snively' Bunny let out a tiny chuckle, since they planned to do so much more than just watch him. Worried about making Derek suspicious Sonic gave Bunny a quick.

"Ssshhhh" which sadly had the reverse effect. Derek looked at the two, perplexed and in desperation Sally added.

"Worry about Sprocket." The words hit home and Sally heaved a sigh of relief when Derek's gaze drifted away and instead focused on one of the portholes.

"He's run off on us again" Derek said, fighting back a small prang of anger. He seemed to lose focus of the porthole then, as though he were seeing past it, beyond it to the island below. He turned back to Sally, "I don't know how easy it's going to be to find him again." She smiled, it was not just the smile of triumph from keeping Derek off the sent it was also that she knew, somehow, that they would find him and was looking forward to sharing this information with him.

"you'll find him, I'm sure of it."

Derek had nodded, turned away and soon was back to conversing with Nayr. With that the children went back to their scheming but making a real effort to keep their voices low.

"So how are we going to thread the needle so to speak?" Sally enquired. She was not use to this, normally she came up with all the bright ideas, she was in complete command, after all she was royalty but she didn't like waving it front of peoples faces like some sort of fashion statement, I'm a Princess look at me, worship me and do what I tell you, no it just seemed wrong more like something Robotnik would do. Just because I'm a princess does not mean I'm always right and that other peoples opinions don't matter, she concluded.

"Well I have an idea," five head snapped round, the voice had come from Rotor, who rarely said anything let alone offer an idea.

"Ok Rotor" Sally said sweetly hoping to nurture this more productive attitude "lets hear it."

"Ok, assuming that at some point we're left alone with him, we slap him with the right hand while guiding him with the left." Rotor said.

"You are wanting us to be slapping him?" Antoine said confused.

"No" Rotor said, degusted by the prospect, "I mean one of us acts all tough and mean" Rotor remembered how Sally had attacked Snively "maybe Sally" he continued, "while someone else acts all, you know, nice and stuff." Rotor grew silent; he was feeling embarrassed and was sure that his idea had not gone down at all well. Sally hummed for a second or two then smiling looked Rotor in the eye and said,

"I guess it's worth a try" then she winked at him causing Rotor to beam brightly.

"So who's going to be nice to Snively?" Sally asked her pears getting the sour response she expected. "Come on guys, it's for a good cause" Antoine sensing this was his moment to shine after first Sonic and then Rotor have helped out.

"I will do it my Princess" he said proudly.

"Please won't somebody make the sacrifice?" Sally asked again completely ignoring Antoine.

"B...B...But my princess, I said that I would be doing it." Antoine insisted.

"We know Ant but we actually want the plan to work and well no offence but we can't afford to be that reckless." Sonic said.

"Oh" said Antoine quietly, "well that is making things clearer" then the penny dropped, "you be hanging on, are you insulating my person!?"

Sonic was about to hit with something witty but the conversation came to an abrupt end with the sound of alarm going off. Selflessly Sally leapt to her feet and stood facing the cabin door, fists clenched tight and her fur raised on its hackles. Antoine had instinctively ducked into a huddle making a small whimpering noise. Bunny had grasped hold of Sonic's arm for comfort but she was losing her grip as Sonic was already beginning to stand up in order to support Sally. In timid silence they listened intensely to the adults conversing.

Nayr glanced at Derek. "That's from the sensors," he said quietly. "It's the proximity alarm."

"What?"

"There's something approaching," Nayr said.

"But I thought you said that the sensors didn't see any other ships in the area."

Sally's mind was racing, she knew this could either be good news, it may be Sprocket and Rosy in the Hover-unit or it could be unspeakably bad, it could be, she shuddered.

Then it came, the voice cold, metallic and lacking so much in emotion it made Nayr look positively radiant,

"Emergency automation online. Threat warning. Hostile weapon system has acquired an active targeting lock." For a moment the dire message didn't even register on her mind, she was in a state of denial instead just thought only of how ugly the voice of the computer had sounded when compared to her own dear, sweet Nichole. She had to face it though, there was no hiding from the truth, although Antoine appeared to be doing his best to do so curling up even tighter and screaming to no one in particular.

"Sal!" Sally heard her name being spoken; the adults had just fled the room, no doubt to make an attempt to save their lives. Here in the crew cabin she was in control, sure J�Ran was here but she was showing about as much life as rock right now. She was frightened, this was different to the other times their lives had been in danger, this time it was all down to her to keep order, to take command and reassure her friends. Taking a deep breath she turned to Sonic looking him in the eye,

"Crunch time," she said coolly, he nodded.

---------------------------------

Post 77:

MistressAli

"I didn't mean to kill Mommy."

Silence. Silence like a tomb, like a dark hole where she lay somewhere cold because of him.

Maybe mommy had stayed inside his body to punish him - maybe all this coldness and anger and pain was really caused by her...

"I didn't mean to..."

'I'd rather it been me, daddy. Then you couldn't hurt me anymore...'

So thought the boy on the floor, young, six years young, with eyes too sad for a child. Body bruised from his father who stood towering above.

'I want to be dead.' So thought the boy.

Years later. He was running away from home forever. Stumbling through the woods, gasping. Still cold. His father had disowned him. By the boy's choice. And he didn't care, because he was cold and in pain and wanting to fall down.

'I want to die," thought the boy in a turmoil. Let me die!

But he hadn't.

Uncle had made him a slave. He couldn't believe it. the pain - incredible.

'I want to die.'

He couldn't count how many times he'd thought it.

Snively opened his eyes.

Death Death death. It had such an insatiable pull, such a tantalizing sweet appeal.

He had sometimes wondered how he'd finally go out. By Julian's hand was his usual assumption - one day Uncle's temper would carry him too far and there would be no recovery from his favorite victim.

His second guess was by his own - shaking, trembling, holding the pistol in his mouth. Decorating the wall with an explosion of red. Or leaping from the highest spire of the Death Egg, or taking up a scalpel and sinking it into those fair wrists of his...

They all left a sour taste in his mouth. The methods were distasteful, but the prize was worth it. To never hurt again. To never be hurt again.

But no, he was going to kick it looking at the sky and clouds and hearing screams. The beautiful blue and orange velvet sky that was whipping by outside the gaping wound in the airbus's side.

He wasn't going to die alone, he wasn't going to feel any pain, most likely.

I'm going to die.

Sally Acorn, Princess of the king he'd betrayed, stared out through the gap with her hair streaming around her face like crimson silk. "HOLD ON! THEY'RE GOING TO FIRE!"

He heard the ion engines, heard the powerful laser weapons of the following airships power up.

I'm going to die.

He locked his eyes, wide open and screaming because his mouth could not, on the spiraling clouds outside.

I'm going to-

And he felt no relief.

No joy, no acceptance.

Nothing but sheer unbridled terror.

**

"OH my dear...boy!" The elder chipmunk, Rosie, was clasping the armrest of her chair as the patrol ship hurtled over the outskirts of the city. Now the desert stretched out before them, not the golden-red majesty that had surrounded Dragon's Nest. The land here was muddy brown and gray, dry and choking.

"This is quite fast enough for me..." her knuckles were standing out clearly through the fur of her hand, "but for them, I daresay it isn't fast enough!"

Sprocket nodded and accelerated, his anxiety seeming to jump with the increase in throttle. He had to bit back the strong urge to tell Nanny Rosie to keep quiet. Oh he liked her, liked her quite well, actually, but he was frazzled and spent, and her urgings threatened to unravel him further.

But no, he had to keep it together, at least for a little longer.

Up ahead the airbus he knew to be carrying their friends...brave Derek, courageous Sally and her brood, the dark hunter Nayr, and Snively...of course, dear treacherous Snively... This ship was in serious danger.

Behind it, flitting like silver barracuda, were the two airships from Ackten Sea. They had already struck the airbus once - Only once! Sprocket couldn't help thinking in surprise - and it seemed they would not stop until all aboard were dead.

Such callous indifference to life was sickening. Sprocket sifted through the files and programs of his system, his eyes narrowed as he watched them move closer to the struggling airbus.

His teeth gritted. They could not be allowed to do this. He would not let them...if he had any ability to prevent it. Unlike Snively, Sprocket was not bound to be gentle with these evildoers.

Rosie peered over at him, her eyes anxious. Some change had come over his face. It seemed the compassion, the sadness, that usually lingered in those golden eyes had been muted...or replaced...with something else.

Cold. He felt cold. Numbed. But determined somehow, hardened. Pure purpose coursed through him, like a drone on a mission. His only objective? Destroy the Ackten airships and protect those aboard the airbus. Maybe this was the same cold alliance he had possessed under Robotnik's control.

Probably, yes. After all, he had just activated the battle mode setting in his robotic body.

Regret would most likely come later, but for now it would enable him to fight without too much thinking of the living creatures that piloted those airships (because that's where he would falter the most) And fight he must. Even now one of the airships was lined up perfectly to fire upon and hit the airbus!

"Hurry boy," came the Nanny's voice again.

Sprocket pushed the throttle to max.

**

"HOLD ON!" The young girl's voice screamed. "HOLD ON!"

She held on. Groggy and frightened, her head threatening to kill her with the throbbing pain long before they crashed. They were on an airship, in bad trouble, from what she could gather. It didn't matter now. Just living through this was all the thought she could muster.

Snively swore he could hear the laser sizzling through the air and then, for only milliseconds at most...was a sudden silence. And then catastrophe.

A terrific explosion rocked the entire bus. Over the hollow rush of wind in his ears, and the screams trapped behind his gag, he could hear the children wailing and his terrified eyes caught sight of the walls ripping away around them.

Crouched with his arms still around the echidna was Nayr, eyes shut tight in concentration. Telekinesis had he and he desperately tried to keep ahold of the walls. It didn't seem to be helping. Panels of roofing tore off, flinging back in the air with incredible speed. Maybe one would hit an Ackten ship, he thought bitterly, maybe...but that was assuming things would go right for once. Sure...

The bus was clearly on its last leg - they were tilting forward now in a freefall.

"HOLD on..." came the voice of the Princess, strung high with horror and yet...and yet still trying to keep the others safe.

Sally had ahold of Sonic, who was grasping onto a niche in the wall. The wall...which might not be there for much longer at this rate. They were in an open room now. The random junk that had been piled back here was flying out; nets, stacks of papers, old shoes. The roof was gone and only portions of the walls remained.

Her hearing was coming back, but every sound seemed to stab in her ears like a knife. She winced.

"This is it, Sal..." came Sonic's voice in her ear. He sounded for once, like the young boy that he really was. That they *really* were.

Everyone was right. She shouldn't have led them here.

"NO, Sonic" she cried...the wind ripping the tears from her eyes. "We aren't... We can't...!"

**

Up front Derek braced himself for impact. The raging survival instinct had taken a grip and he was lost in it, lost in that helpless feel of selfish cruelty, but unable to shake it. Somewhere on the floor Nack was muttering something in a low voice - a prayer most likely.

The bus entered the cave, now tilted down steeply. Derek closed his eyes as the cave floor filled the windshield.

**

"Oh...oh...hurry!" Rosie was clasping her hands to her mouth. "OH Gods, the children!" Her usually calm voice was a panicked squeak.

"I am!" Sprocket nearly forgot about the other ship - after seeing its partner shot down it had peeled away from the scene. The sheer cowardice almost made the dog-bot give chase and slaughter it out of sheer spite.

He began to lose altitude, searching for a good spot to land. An alarm trilled suddenly and not two seconds later, the patrol ship was struck from behind. Had they not been buckled in, he imagined both he and Rosie would've been thrown from their seats.

A quick glance in the rearview revealed the Ackten ship speeding behind them. he fancied he saw the pilot shaking its fist in defiance. "There isn't time for this!" He snarled, and then to the computer, "Damage report!"

"Shields up 70%. Damage deflected off rear hull.*

The alarm trilled as Sprocket nodded his head grimly.

"I do believe he is going to shoot again!" Rosie gasped.

"Shoot he may..." Sprocket pulled up on the steering stick sharply and the ship's nose aimed heavenward. Rosie's claws dug into the armrests, puncturing the fine leather. "But hit he won't!"

the Ackten pilot craned his neck, unbelieving as the patrol ship completed an upside down loop...and gulped because now, as came to fly straight again...it was now behind *him*!

The turret guns of the patrol ship blazed. The Ackten pilot rolled to the side. Sprocket followed, calculating the next move, his finger hovering over the trigger.

The Ackten pilot was fast, to be sure, but this patrol ship was not the lumbering sloth that had been the airbus...

The airbus...his friends!

The Ackten ship climbed upwards in a frantic attempt to shake the Robotrillian predator, the pilot swearing and cursing his sudden bad luck. What the hell? Was a robot piloting that thing? It stayed on his tail like a leech, and he could hear the high whine of the turret gun powering up.

Rosie covered her eyes, looking highly uncomfortable. "OH dear...I think I'm going to be ill..."

Sprocket risked a glance over at her, and when he turned his attention back to the skies, the Ackten pilot had rolled again, flipping his ship so now he...and his guns...faced the patrol ship.

Sprocket banked sharply, but not in time to avoid the shoot. The laser buffeted against the side panel of the hovercraft. The ship rocked violently and Rosie just barely held back her urge to vomit all over the floor.

At the moment she didn't think Sprocket would care.

"Shields up 55%. Further damage could cause critical shield loss.*

The dog muttered and looked at her again. "Enough of this, I say...don't you agree, Nanny?"

She gulped and put a hand on her protesting stomach. "Oh dearie me, yes."

He turned away and accelerated towards the cave, leaving the Ackten pilot still flying frantically dodging and rolling...and then hovering in a confusion as it's predator abandoned the chase.

Sprocket lowered the hovercraft towards the ground again, and as he'd suspected, the Ackten ship came hurtling towards his backside again, the powerful ion engine rumbling through the air. Climbing and diving it came to cover the distance faster, to come down upon it's prey with guns blazing.

But as it came closer and prepared to fire, Sprocket climbed again steeply and the Ackten ship passed below him. A grievous error to have followed, to have tried to kill the one who had left the fight. Oh yes, the Ackten pilot could have retreated, gone back to the island and left these people be.

But no, a conceited and fatal error he had made. For Sprocket drove the hovercraft downwards, the Ackten ship below direct in his crosshairs, and then gone in an explosion hideous and bright. Rosie shielded her eyes with a cry of 'OH my goodness!"

Sprocket grimly disengaged the battle mode feature of his robotic body.

The guilt crashed upon him. He'd expected it, but still it gripped, the heart-wrenching pain that came with ending a life, even a life that had threatened his own and those of his friends.

How many had he killed before, under Robotnik's spell? Hundreds...or none at all...he didn't know...maybe Snively would...but he would never ask. For fear that he had hurt many.

Rosie's warm hand suddenly rested upon his arm. "Come now, boy, let's land and help the others."

**

Had Derek kept his eyes open he would've seen the beauty of the cavern. The stone inside was a dusty bluish gray, sparkling with white mineral crystals. Spears of stone hung from the ceiling and rose up from the ground.

"We...we are going to die!" Antoine whimpered, trying to keep ahold of the trembling floor. "We are going to be thrown out!"

Sally clutched harder to the young hedgehog. He was the action, the brash reckless to her brains.

"Sonic...THINK OF SOMETHING!"

The hedgehog peered around, seeing only the cave walls speeding around them...they were going to be impacting with that hard floor any moment now...and then he saw Dulcy...

She was holding onto a section of wall, crying.

He gave a sharp whistle, then yelped, 'DULCY! DULCY, fly us out! Before we crash!"

Sally's eyes went wide, and then she took was yelling, ordering. "Hurry, everyone grab ahold of Dulcy. Yes... Rotor, that's it!"

Stumbling, fighting and grasping the walls and crawling along the floor, the children made their way to the dragon.

Dulcy, still weeping, flattened herself to the floor, allowing them to climb aboard. "I can't land good!"

"WHO CARES!" Sonic yipped in her ear. "Let's go!"

"What about the others?" Bunnie was the last to get on, helping to pull Antoine aboard Dulcy's back.

"There...there's no time!" And Sally looked back at Nayr and J�Ran, who were still clasping each other on the floor, seemingly exhausted from their earlier magical efforts.

They were going to hit in seconds. There's no time...

Her eyes were wide...horrified and sad...and filled with all the regret of coming, of following Derek...of being so foolish. So childishly reckless! She'd led her friends into this. How fitting that they would all die together.

After all, they were pieces of her...without them she would be dead too.

It's too late.

Nayr looked up, his brilliant blue eyes gleaming in that dark face. His gaze seemed to understand her plight - to jump now and live or to an attempt a rescue and risk death.

"JUMP.' His eyes said. "JUMP!"

Yes. She had to save them. Because they trusted her to save them.

"JUMP NOW DULCY!"

And the dragon did. Out through the gaping holes in the walls she sprang, her young wings spreading and beating the dim cave air. They soared upwards and below them the airbus smashed into the ground and slid wildly across the rough surface.

"OH!" The dragon faltered in the air.

They were careening wildly.

"D-Dulcy...girl...fly!" Bunnie cried.

"Someone's...someone's got my tail!"

With shocked eyes, the children looked down to see...

Nicolette glowering up at them with a firm grip on Dulcy's tail.

"Hello kids..." she hissed.

**

Nack had a surprisingly high girlish scream. Derek would have laughed if he hadn't been similarly screeching in terror. His pearl fur was soaked with sweat, and he wouldn't be surprised if he'd wet himself as well.

No time to check. The impact of airbus with cave floor knocked him out of his seat. Luckily his fall was cushioned by Nack.

The weasel didn't complain.

The crippled ship slid across the cave floor, still moving at quite an impressive speed. It clipped a stone outcropping, sending the massive bus into spinning circles, kicking up choking clouds of dust.

In the back, Nayr kept a hold on J�Ran, using the last of his strength to try and hold them in place telekinetically. He was dully glad, that the kids, at least, had escaped the crash. They would've been thrown out on impact and possibly killed when their tiny bodies hit the cave floor at such a speed.

"Kid...this is it..." the weasel gasped beneath Derek, a sudden smirk on his face. "The big ride to the riches in the sky. Hehehe..."

Ugh. The koala would've slapped Nack, if they weren't about to die in a few minutes. He decided to let it slide. "Uh...yeah..."

Two outcroppings of rock rose up ahead of them. Set parallel to each other, and both especially laden with veins of the sparkling white crystals, they seemed like a bizarre gateway into the lower depths of the caverns.

Still spinning wildly, the bus neared this 'gateway', their speed having slowed considerably due to the severe friction across the rocky floor, and their spinning motion...they were still moving at quite a good speed. Smashing against the outcroppings was going to tear the ship apart.

A dip in the floor saved them. At the beginning of a spin, the rear of the bus slid into the dip. Scrapping against the floor the vehicle spun once more and jumped the lip of the shallow dip, exiting at a slightly different angle then they had entered.

It was just enough that they slid between the gateway and the rear of the bus, still fishtailing, struck one of the outcroppings with a terrific screech of metal that made Derek and Nack cringe and shudder, the bus came to a sudden and violent halt between the two pillars of rock.

They sprawled against the control console in a heap where the force of stopping had thrown them. Derek was stunned, his legs and arms seemingly tangled around Nack's. The weasel's thick crooked tail was smashed against his face and he could feel blood oozing from his lip.

He rasped for breath. His chest hurt. He wondered idly if his ribs were broken.

But at least he was alive, right?

Or was he?

**

The impact had been rough indeed. But by some virtue he had managed to stay inside. Maybe somewhere up there someone was looking out for him.

Hehehe. He would've laughed but he couldn't breathe. The air had been knocked out of his frail form. He'd only been thrown out when the bus had struck the first outcropping of rock, right after they hit the ground.

The ropes that bound him simultaneously seemed to harm and protect his body, when he struck the ground he had rolled like a limp sack of potatoes before coming to a stop on the dusty ground, hacking and wheezing for breath amidst the dirt.

He lay stunned, clasping his arms around his chest, a sharp and insistent throb in the left forearm told him he had a broken, or at least, fractured bone. The pain made his head swim.

'OH God..." Snively moaned..."Why me?"

he had wanted to die. Then feared it. But now he wished he'd gotten it, once again. It wasn't fair he'd been cheated of it!

Next time, he thought grimly. Maybe next time.

But as he was not dead, he might as well get up and see what was going on. He pushed himself upwards with his right arm, groaning as dizziness struck him. His vision went white for a moment and he gasped. Maybe he had a concussion too. Possibly.

But there was one good thing about all this, if he could even count it as being 'good'. Due to the scraping and rolling of his frail (or maybe he wasn't *that* frail, he was still alive after all) body across the cave floor, his bonds had shredded away, allowing him to move freely.

With a whimpering growl, Snively ripped the gag away from his mouth and looked down at himself. The robe he'd been wearing for disguise at Acktens was ripped to uselessness and he pulled it off. His pants had been ripped below one knee and blood was seeping from a scrape there. It stung and he gritted his teeth, holding his fractured arm to his chest.

"I'm alive...blast it all..."

He turned his eye briefly to the fallen airbus. It had wedged itself between two stone pillars. He wondered briefly if those aboard were dead, and found he didn't particularly care.

No...he was going to get out of here.

So limping and whimpering, complaining and gasping, he made his way to the cave entrance, where miles of desert stretched out. And he was bleeding and hurt, and the hostile city lay close. Oh Gods...he was in deep shit.

Then he saw a sparkle of metal. The patrol ship touching down upon the sand. He stood there, lower lip trembling as Sprocket exited, extending his hand to help an older female woodchuck out. They ran across the sand, the woman gasping phrases 'oh dearie', and 'hurry, the children...oh my!"

Sprocket was responding with soothing words in his calm voice as they entered the dimness of the cave...

Snively took a step back into the shadows but it was too late.

The golden eyes of his friend caught sight of him and he slowed to a walk. For a minute he just stared at the small battered human, and then his eyes strayed to the destroyed airbus.

Snively at least...had lived... but...the others?

He was deathly afraid to find out. He almost wished for that uncaring haze of the battle mode again.

But no...even grief for the dead was better...was more *real* was more...more of an honor...as part of a living, emotional creature...yes, even the excruciating agony of seeing his friends dead was better than being apathetic and numb to it.

Snively's eyes spoke of that same numbness. Or was he just in shock? Sprocket gulped. Rosie was already moving towards the ship, her red cape flapping behind her as she ran.

"Let's go...my friend..." said Sprocket. "They need our help."�

-----------------------------------------------------

Post 78:

Ealain Vangogh

Sprocket tried to warn Rosie of the potential perils in her warpath extricating the children from the totaled airbus. He wanted to tell her to watch her step, that there were leeches under her feet-with a compulsion to suck blood, one it was not their choice to make-an act of violation which had become a NEED.�

One leech in particular was lingering in the shadows-a creature made wicked without its own consent. Surely the sight of Snively would be enough a strike to Rosie's frail stomach to do it in.�

But the aging squirrel seemed spiritually compelled towards the wreckage, as if she were the string of a child's plastic yo-yo, or perhaps a line of measuring tape, calculating losses and grievances, making its rapid ascent, snapping back towards its destination. All "dearie me's", "mercies" and other such fearful cries were abandoned in her aggressive anxiety. Her desperation made Sprocket wish to the point of forfeiting his own soul that each and every one of her charges was safe.

Here and there, brief electrical fires spewed from crushed areas of the bus, each seemingly chasing the tail of Rosie's cloak, nipping at her heels. She didn't notice.

Debris spilled from the roof of the cavern: a dark, chilled conglomeration of stalactites and the faintly foreboding odor of mildew. Rosie did not bother to dodge the rocky and ashy assaults, some of which struck her forearm and shoulders, leaving black marks and making her teeter.�

She didn't notice.�

Sprocket raised a hand at Snively, preparing to indicate no mercy should the human try to flee, but his eyes were still glued on the frantic nanny; the gesture was distracted and half-hearted at best. The human's eyes narrowed and he lashed arms across his tattered chest, trying to hide his limp, as the canine abandoned him to pull Rosie away from the danger of the wreckage. Snively snorted and rolled his eyes. "Nice to know I can rely on your CALLOUSNESS towards me to keep from revealing my wounds," he murmured, so unaware of the canine's true heart.

Sprocket did not hear him. For a large rock from the cave ceiling, nearly able to boast the heft of a boulder, flew down and struck Rosie's left shoulder before he could reach and shield her. Her cry of pain mingled a bitter harmony with his swear of "Damn it, NO!" His night vision blazing a mesmerizing Aztec gold, he flung himself across her and pulled her inside the remains of the bus just as a shower of cave guts-pebbles, dirt, charred dagger-shaped limestone and sand-thundered to the floor, bashing enormous dents in both of his arms-and blocked their exit.�

Darkness-blackness, pitch, utter and all-encompassing. For a horrifying instant, Sprocket wondered if he had fallen back to being a numb automaton for several more years and was again awakening in a robot factory. "Rosie, are you alright?" he half-wailed, just to prove to his own awareness that the fear was unfulfilled.�

The old nanny groaned a "yes," followed by, as her fur bristled across his smooth side, one hand groping to find him, "I think perhaps I've dislocated something. . . in my shoulder."

"I'm afraid that's the least of your worries," he replied, re-igniting his night vision. The space that lit in an eerie yellow-ore of light before them was the inside of the back hull of the bus. He offered the squirrel an arm, weakened though it was from the rocky assault, and lifted Rosie to her feet.�

"Right," she concurred, "now our priority is to find the children-ANY survivors-" she added tearfully when his eyebrows rose-"and a way out of here." She clutched her shoulder, cringing with her aches, but nevertheless hobbled towards the front of the bus.�

Sprocket did his best to aim his eyes in the direction she was walking, to aid her search. Still, preoccupation got the better of him; he stretched out fingers to feel dozens of tiny knobs extending from the walls. He focused hard on strange marks etched into the walls surrounding the knobs-they were claw marks, the result of much struggling not to tumble out of the ship and smack against the unforgiving floor of the canyon. Suddenly he feared the worst for Rosie's children. His heart sank in despair.�

And yet, he had not seen them fall . . . what could have possibly . . . ?�

A male voice nearby slurred, "Who's there?" Sprocket nearly leapt out of his metallic shell. He dashed towards the sound-it was the voice of Nayr. The Sados growled at his offer for assistance and dragged himself to his feet, pulling something that looked fragile, limp and red with him. The body of J'Ran-Sprocket could hear her shallow breathing, but her eyes, half-hooded and sparkling a faint green glow, were vacant; her mind was locked far from their access by some sort of psychological overload.�

"Is she alright?" The canine forced himself to ask, his eyes dimming so that he did not have to bear the sight of her.�

"It is my understanding that she is immortal," Nayr retorted with a hefty sniff. Sprocket could imagine his deadpan face even in the blackness that obscured them, and even regarding the gravity of the matter he was discussing. "She made great efforts to utilize chaos energy to protect us--at MY bidding, I might add-while the bounty hunters were giving chase. I suspect this is some kind of backlash, or mental burnout, which will fade away if she gets some rest."

More remorse weighted down the canine's chest with the knowledge. "I'm sorry," he said, hand over his chest, "I swear I thought my actions would make this kind of sacrifice much more avoidable-not inevitable."

"It is not my place to forgive you, Mobian," the Sados snapped, dragging the echidna towards some soft bedding that had spilled from a closet area during the chase, as if he were her self-appointed caretaker. Though his black companion was brusque, Sprocket was thankful, at the moment, to hear himself called anything besides "robot."�

"Hey, whatta ya think YOU'RE sittin' there for?" The snarl of Nack the Weasel flooded the dark compartment; apparently Sprocket's eyes had provided him enough lighting to crawl out to the hull and behold J'Ran's form reclining on the sheets and blankets. "Now, listen, dame, I think you're one hot tamale and all, and I'll thank ya for helping us out, but . . . but . . . that's where I was aiming to put MY hindside!" Aside a bloodied lip, a soot-blackened face, and a fang that appeared bent even more crooked than it had previously been, the lean and wiry criminal seemed fully intact. Even his derby perched where it belonged on his head.

"What are YOU doing alive?" Nayr half-roared back. "Where's Derek? And do you mind? J'Ran is ill!"

Nack stooped over the echidna, gently removing her visor. He stared into her catatonic eyes. "Oh . . . wow. Sorry." One gloved hand wavered over her clothing, considering pick-pocketing her for gain while darkness and her unconsciousness might aid him. But something-some small scrap of decency revived by his near death experience, perhaps-made him stand and leave J'Ran untampered with. Besides, a lady like her probably didn't need that kind of material power, anyhow.�

The weasel cleared his throat. "Derek's just fine n' dandy. He's looking over old Nanny Woodchuck's arm to see if it's fractured-little good that'll do, in this darkness." He turned to Sprocket, the one who'd proven time and again his honesty and compassion. "She gonna be okay . . . J'Ran, I mean?"�

"The sooner we get out of here, the sooner we can find out," the dog replied levelly. He sighed with inward relief, grateful that Derek was well, and that he would be able to provide more answers than the rest of the shaken company. Grateful, too, that he would have a chance to apologize to the koala. "Rosie, Derek, can you please join is back here in the hull? I've some questions."

A scrambling noise came, the sound of pawpads stepping on shards of glass, followed by a dull thud and a cry of "Mercy!"�

Sprocket dashed to the front passage, eyes lit bright as possible. "Here, wait, some light for you!" It was difficult to keep his sensors at full brightness for long without his head spinning from the rush of energy to his neural circuits, but he managed it long enough for Rosie to pull Derek off the floor. The koala had gotten woozy from trying to rise too fast from the dashboard where he'd been thrown. His whole forehead was caked in red. "I fear I've been smashed hard into the dash's glass," he explained to the canine's shocked face, "and now I think some of the debris got in the cuts . . . but I'm alright. Just a bit of vertigo."

"Why didn't you tell me you'd been hurt?" Rosie scolded in that fine-tuned chastisement of a maternal figure. "Why did you waste your time on my fractured shoulderblade? You could have a concussion, boy! And what's worse, we can't even find the children!" She stifled a rare sob.�

Derek's face fell; he grabbed her arm. "What do you mean? Aren't they . . .aren't they . . ." His demands turned to half-conscious moans. He stared bleakly at the space inside the hull, at the scratch marks that Sprocket had recently discovered, and ran his fingers over them. "Oh, oh no, the heir of the throne . . . after all we just. . . oooohhh no . . . gods, how will I face Ari?"�

"Alright, that settles it!" Sprocket insisted, thudding an iron foot on the floor of the ship. "We must get out of this place NOW. Your oxygen source will be depleting rapidly." He looked at his limbs, a snarl of frustration rippling on his lips. "My arms have been injured in the debris, so I can't push us out. If I use my lasers . . . I' m afraid it'll drain all my energy in my eye circuits that provide us with light. And my jet thrusters might burn you all to a crisp, or worse, melt in the sides of the bus and cause the debris to collapse on us."

Nayr nodded. "A wise observation. Do not attempt any of that until we think of an alternative solution. And we will . . . somehow."�

"Good." Sprocket rested a thankful hand on the Sados's shoulder; while it tensed, Nayr let it stay there. The dog continued. "Nack, Rosie, as hard as I know it is for you right now, start brainstorming with Nayr. So much is at stake. Derek, do you have any idea of the last time you saw ANY of the children?"�

The koala hiccupped back a sob of fury and exhaustion to murmur, "Right before the attack . . . when the princess told me to worry about . . . YOU."

The robot's fists tightened into balls. He fought the urge to vomit-if a robot COULD vomit. "Oh. Oh, I see. Me.. . . I . . . do you have any idea where they might have-"

"They flew away, you numbskull," an irritated hiss from the other side of the earthen avalanche injected. "On that great green lizard of theirs. I saw them. Didn't bother to ask me if I wanted a ride." It was Snively, no doubt hovering by the edge of the collapsed rubble and fearing for his safety-as a human, and an oft-recognized nephew of Robotnik, without the buffer of Mobians, an omniscient echidna, and a Sados with an attitude accompanying him. "Oh . . . hang on, the lot of you . . ."

Rosie's eyes slid shut and she moaned a silent prayer of gratitude; even coming from the kin of her king's traitor, it was welcome reassurance.

Nack whistled low, almost with a tune of respect. "Hot damn. Those kids really know how to save their own derrieres! Buncha damned crusaders, I'd almost say!"�

"Derek, if we . . . don't get out of here," Sprocket took the opportunity to whisper in the koala's cloudlike white ear, "I just want you to know I'm sorry for . . . for leaving. I've suffered the repercussions far worse than you can imagine . . ." thinking, sickened, of the dead Ackten pilot, the one he'd murdered needlessly ". . . I thought it the best action to-"

"We'll discuss this later," Derek growled, suddenly wide awake, snapping to face him. There was uncharacteristic fury smoldering in his eyes-oh, they were hotter than the dank, humid air in their wrecked prison. It was terrifying. Wrathful. Vengeful. Perhaps the marsupial was facing his own demons. "You're not the only one with regrets about . . . his feelings and actions. . . of late." Then those eyes grew distant with a similar remorse. "You're not the only one who's been appalled by his own innate . . . selfish . . ." Then as if he were struck by nausea, they shut tight. "Just know this-the next time you make an executive decision that affects ALL of us-you CLEAR that decision WITH all of us. Got it?"�

"Y-yes, I . . ." Sprocket had been compliant and submissive, but a peculiar noise had drawn all of his meager and frazzled attention. "What's that?" He blurted, befuddled. It was a kind of scratching sound, accompanied by a sort of howling whimper, and a growl. "Snively?" he ventured. But it sounded nothing like his childhood friend.�

Nevertheless, in a tight voice, strangely tense, the human instantly replied, "Ah, yes? Y-yes it's just me, I'm trying to figure a way out f-for you . . . JUST me!"

Derek and Sprocket exchanged puzzled looks. "There's something afoot," Nayr managed to croak, voicing their suspicions.�

"I don't care," Rosie whispered, clutching his onyx arm, "as long as he gets us out, we can set about finding the children, and safety as well. Whatever he's cooking, we can deal with it better in some fresh air."

"Here, here," Derek breathed his agreement, but Sprocket saw something alien lingering on his face. Something like regret. Ah, yes, indeed, alien on the koala's face, but on HIS?�

An hour or so crawled by, the company locking arms to keep track of each other and falling into silence to preserve the little remaining oxygen. Derek, Nack and Rosie's fur clung sticky to their bodies while Nayr, barely conscious himself, dislodged himself from the others. He methodically shook and murmured to J'Ran, trying vainly to revive her. The moisture condensed on Sprocket's metallic frame, making it glisten almost hypnotically; the glare made Nack scowl and slide his derby over his face. Once or twice the weasel tried to whistle and hum to buoy their spirits, but was quickly hushed for waste of precious air. Only the canine, the sole source of light streaming yellow from his eyes, was unaffected by the depleting air. Fearfully he watched his companions beginning to choke away their lives-beginning to fade-and wished to God he was no longer robotically immortal. Their death would only add to the guilt rising daily in his soul. "HURRY, Snively!" he cried out, and the scratching seemed to hasten-and increase in number. It was as if, somehow, Snively was sprouting hands-dozens of them-to use in his rescue mission.

None of the trapped adventurers, in their haze of terror and stupor, realized that Nicolette was missing. Sprocket's mind had wandered to the matter once or twice, but both times he figured her unconscious body had been thrown out of the gaping hole in the hull hours back, when the attacks on the airbus had gotten the most brutal. Then why hadn't he seen her body falling out when he was following the bus . . . ?

Finally a fresh, cool stream of air flooded their prison, and only a few boulders marked the barrier between the company and their freedom. Nayr, Nack, and Sprocket rushed to help the thin pair of human hands from the other side lift them away. "That should do it," a breathless but haughty voice concluded. The sour visage of Snively peered inside, beady eyes scrutinizing the darkness; when he was satisfied that the hole was big enough for them to crawl outside, he crept back to his original spot: leering at the cave entrance, where some light still remained. Rosie cheered hoarsely, tugging Derek up to their exit. The koala wavered in his gait.

Sprocket eyed him closely. It was the same kind of solitary bravado Derek had displayed the last time he was injured. The dog was certain that he could not knowingly let anyone besides himself suffer in solitude.�

Never again.�

"Don't take this the wrong way, Derek," he chuckled, winking, and then lifted the koala fully off his feet, carrying him outside, past Snively, whose face, as the clearer light revealed, was caked in sweat and soot. The human watched them pass with something akin to possessive jealousy, or the anger of one whose heroism went unnoticed, on his face. Softly Sprocket let Derek slip to the cave ground outside the bus; the koala tried to smile, but only managed to sigh wearily. Wryly, but with esteem, the canine added, "I mean, come on, kid, you'll have to find another sexy automaton to flirt with." This finally drew an incredulous, albeit weak, chortle from the koala. "But you know," Sprocket continued, solemnity more evidently weighing his voice, " if I could be reckoned as the friend of only ONE so-called 'Freedom Fighter,' I do believe YOU'D be the one I'd pick."�

Now Derek looked up at him, bleary-eyed. "Don't be so sure," he muttered. There was something at once sad and ominous in the statement, something that rippled in the air between them. Sprocket decided to shrug it off for the moment.

Nayr carried out J'Ran, who was still in a kind of trance; Nack followed with uncharacteristic generosity, carrying Rosie rather than shoving by to save his own hide. His face was drawn. "Never thought I'd feel like a JERK for being the only one uninjured," he breathed.

"Congratulations, you've grown up," she rebutted as he dropped her to the earth. Her eyes were fixed on the horizon, no doubt scanning for the sight of Dulcy and the other children.

Without a victim to worry about, Sprocket's attention finally returned to Snively. The human was still glowering at him. And for the first time, he saw Snively's bruised head and ravaged leg. "God, are you alright?" he gasped.

Snively barked a quick, acid laugh, looking away. "Like YOU care. I just saved YOUR bloody asses, and nobody condescends to thank ME." A snarl curled on his pouting lips. "Nobody EVER remembers ME."�

"Here, you healed me," the canine fled to the inside of the bus, causing the others to collectively scream protest. He returned unscathed, however, carrying one of the blankets used as J'Ran's sickbed. He knelt beside Snively. From the wrinkles in the human's forehead and the ashamed reddening of his cheeks, he already understood the dog's intentions. "Now it's my turn to heal you. Hold still, and steady yourself on my back." Snively obeyed, resting a hand on Sprocket's metallic shoulder blade. Like an elder brother or a father, the canine wrapped the blanket around the gash, obscuring the red weeping flow of blood. Snively gnawed on his lip and yelped only once during the process. "We'll get some antiseptic on this soon . . . I hope. Oh, by the way," and Sprocket looked up into the eyes of his friend of ages past, grinning dryly. "Thank you."

Snively looked ready to sink between the copious cracks in the cave floor. "How can you do that? Tell me what your secret is. How can you be so gracious? Damn you, Sprocket, it kills me the way you. . . I wish you'd just be a careless bastard to me, maybe I'd feel a little more justified in . . . in . . . "

"Well," the canine shrugged, well aware of where the conversation was going, and too worn and beaten by the day to bask in Snively's self-despising angst. "Nobody's perfect. We all make mistakes that . . . we regret."

"But some of us do that a LOT more frequently than others!" Spittle sprayed from between Snively's jaws with the passion of the statement. He grabbed Sprocket by the dented arms and jolted him to his feet. "Get up here ABOVE me, damn you! Why are you down there BELOW me, it just isn't RIGHT-"�

"Hey Fido," Nack brayed, interrupting. The bounty hunter was standing among the group of survivors; they were collecting on the opposite side of the wrecked bus, where the stalactites and other loose debris were less plentiful. "We're having a little pow-wow about what's next on the gameplan. Care to join us? Or do ya still got ta find some rock for your little hairless brat to crawl under?" Derek and Nayr were diligently observing the exchange between the human and dog, fearing, perhaps, that their secret liaisons had regenerated-that they had reconciled.�

If they were to ask him, Sprocket would have no clue how to choose either of those infinitely simple and finite answers, "yes," or "no." So he called, "No problem, I'll be right with you." Then he turned to Snively. "I don't mean to come across as insensitive, Snively. What do you want me to say? I am still sick with rage at you. And yet you were the first person I thought of when I was giving chase and destroying those Ackten assailants. You were among the friends whom I cared for so deeply that I . . ." He clasped his throat, as if an invisible noose had suddenly materialized around it. Snively frowned, nearly compelled to examine his once-again-savior's neck. "Alright," the dog continued, failing to notice how the vulnerability on his friend's face began to crumble, "here's what you're looking for-you want to feel you aren't alone in your guilt. You want a reason why I still can forgive you. Here it is. I can commit crimes. Awful ones. Do you know what happened today? I . . . I KILLED a man today. He was beneath contempt, I know, but I killed him-someone with breath, words, thoughts, feelings-a LIFE. Are you satisfied now? Does sweet misery love his company?"�

"Well," Snively grunted. His own exhaustion and uncomfortability with being emotionally dissected made him tactless. "It's not like it's the . . ." But then he swallowed back his words, somehow regaining a morsel of sensitivity, and winced. "Er . . . I mean . . ." He paled.

But Sprocket, already ridden with guilt, already guessed at the answer to his deepest fears of the past. "You MEAN it's not like it's the FIRST TIME," he moaned softly, clasping hands to his head in utter despair.�

Snively bit his lip and glowered at the dust beneath them. "Worse things have been done," he croaked. "By worse people. Please . . . at least believe me on THAT account." But the words meant for comfort were feeble-they only confirmed the fact that the dog had once been a killing machine for a vicious brute to whom both young men standing there, in that forlorn cave, owed their souls.�

"Let's just refrain from talking a bit, okay?" Sprocket whimpered, quickly distancing himself from the boy who had far too few-and too MANY-answers to give. He pretended to busy himself conversing with Derek and Nack.�

Snively's fingers clawed silently into his palms until they bled, purging his fury at self.

"You know what," Nack's voice rose over the murmuring din. He detached himself from the others and strode over to Snively, thrust off his derby, and aimed it at the Overlander like a gun. "That took you waaay too short a time to get us outta there. You got a secret you feel like sharin', Pretty Boy?" From the murder in the vermin's eyes, however, there was little choice in Snively's hands regarding his willingness to "share."

As arrogantly as he could, the Overlander drew himself up to his full height-still an inch or so in deficit of Nack's towering, gangly frame-and purred, "Well, my dear Weasel, I should say I had some . . . assistance. An offer I couldn't . . ." and here, inexplicably, he gulped " . . . . refuse."�

Sprocket, maintaining a harsh authority over the human which had replaced a former affection, darted in front of the weasel, stabbed an index finger at the tip of the youth's nose, and demanded, "No bull, Snively-YOUR hide depends on it, too." He gestured at the Nephew of Robotnik's gored leg. Indeed, Snively was growing more ashen by the minute, his speech more slurred. His blood loss was considerable, even with the caring aid of the dog's blanket. "To what or who are you referring?" Fresh rage and self-disgust made Sprocket's otherwise gentle voice formidable.

Silence.

With no other way to dodge an answer, Snively feigned a swoon, eyes lulling up in his sockets, and attempted to fall against the canine to draw from the well of his pity.

But it seemed a drought had befallen Sprocket's heart. He was in battle mode again-only this time, it was self-inflicted.�

Viciously he seized the human's shoulders and shook him once, hard, like a jolt of electricity. Snively let out a yipe of pure surprise, eyes snapping wide open and destroying all hopes of deceiving the dog. Sprocket's fangs flashed unforgiving in his old friend's face. "NONE of THAT! None of that malingering crap, Snively-I KNOW you're faking it! I KNOW! I'm SICK of your enigmas and falsehoods, LIAR! I know you think I care too much-but you do too! I know you're still alive-don't hide the truth under that damned coat of SELFISH INDIFFERENCE! Just moments ago you proved the truth to me! Now do it again!"�

At the word "selfish," though he had been most stunned by the dog's violent physical assault, Derek shuddered and turned away. Nayr watched the reprimand intently, almost in approval, and Nack let out a hoot, his eyebrows raised with grim amusement. "How bout that, Nannie Woodchuck?" he chortled. His twisted logic rang nastily throughout the cave. "Looks like the pressure's gotten to our knight in silver metal armor after all! Gets to all of us, I say-the old principles, they just met away when it REALLY counts!"�

Rosie just stood wringing her hands, intense sadness filling her face. "Oh . . . dear . . ." she breathed.

"Shut up," Derek told them all, covering his face, and his ears. An ancient wound now, but still capable of drawing fierce pain, the dried and scarred gash in his forehead from Nayr's discus began again to throb-accompanied by the new cuts in his forehead.

Sprocket and Snively were oblivious, as ever before, locked in another volcanic confrontation that yet stemmed back to the day of the human's ultimate betrayal. "Does it scare you that I know you so well?" the dog snarled, only now flooding, softer sorrow had replaced his rage. "Does it scare you that it all still matters to you, when you've done the things you've done?" His voice slid to a whisper, as he gestured at himself. "Well, old friend, it'll scare you more-more and more--if you KEEP doing what you do, locked in the same God-awful indifference. I found that out today, remember? I found that out when I first REALLY experienced a habit of FIVE YEARS of my life-I killed. It's terrifying --you just keep on doing the same thing and hope it goes away--it won't. So come clean, Snively. Tell me what you're hiding NOW." His voice acquired tears, but his eyes, ah, they were robotic, and refused to let him drain himself of his anguish. "Stop . . . being . . . a ROBOT."

Snively's jaw hung ajar. The physical pain induced by the assault seemed fully unknown to him; rather, something emotionally excruciating far outweighed it. His hands hung limply at his sides. "B-but I DID help you . . . I found someone ELSE to HELP-they left already-they wanted their . . . privacy. . . God, God, oh, merciful . . . I think I have a concussion . . . " Now real dizziness seized the Nephew of Julian.

And with that a microscopic spark of compassion returned to the canine's eyes.

But not long enough. "He's lying, let's flog it out of him," the Sados roared, approaching with a ready fist, making Snively cringe.�

Nack nodded in agreement, following. "Yeah, the little chickenshi-"

"No, he speaks the truth," a new voice, deep and laden with grace and a charming kind of cunning, crooned from the deepest recesses of the cavern. "The truth that you crave . . . that WE crave . . . Sprocket."

The entire company whirled to face the owner of the voice, stunned that whoever she was, she knew the canine's name. Rosie brandished a nearby fallen stalactite, with her one good arm, bravely. Nack fingered his belt for a pistol-a fruitless habit, as he had long since been forced to disarm by Nayr.�

The voice continued; something in the darkness stirred, and approached. "You see, my people fear intrusion of any kind, ever since the coup and the . . . total destruction . . . of our kinsmen and culture. We are very wary of strangers . . . especially humans . . . so in order to accept this hairless one's plea for our help, we demanded that he refrain from speaking of our involvement in your rescue. My clansmen and I then set about scratching away the debris that covered the airbus entrance, quick to retreat once there were only a few rocks left for your human to dislodge." A head, a long and narrow muzzle topped by a wild, savagely beautiful Mohawk, and a small scar or painting mark slashed across one of a pair of narrow, fierce eyes-all began to emerge from the obscurity. It was a female wolf. " But that was before I came back to scout the seven of you out-before I knew you were a member of the intruding party . . . though you have been much altered, I would recognize you anywhere . . . my forever friend." A subtle smile, now, on the face and voice.�

"The SEVEN of us?" Nack flung around and peered into the wrecked vehicle, displaying transient brotherly affection and concern. "Sis," he murmured, "you little louse, it WAS eight . . . but where did'ja. . ." His eyes flickered over Derek; the koala hadn't seemed to notice the numerical discrepancy, so he bit his lip and kept his peace. He could always find his sister, wherever she wandered off to, and if she was alive-she might be willing to help him nab that princess and cut a deal with that puny Kintobor kid after all.�

"Oh my God . . ." Sprocket spoke, interrupting the weasel's train of thought. The canine abandoned the still-hurt Snively, forgetting an apology, and fell to his knees, as if the supple creature emerging from the shadows were the recipient of the title, as if she were indeed a deity. His breath came out ragged with his shock. "How could I have forgotten . . ." Hands reached out dotingly to their greeter, the gray wolf maiden, who was adorned with every manner of bead, shell, feather and stone.�

Sprocket kissed her hands from his kneeling spot on the ground. He spoke a greeting in a foreign tongue, and finally an exclamation of her name: "Lupe!"

When Derek, nervously crouching forward, saw that even the irreverent Nack had dropped humble and dumbfounded to the earth and bowed, he too descended. "Who?" he hissed through his teeth, feeling the familiar panic cutting off the air from his throat.�

"A woman to reckon with," the weasel retorted, "a slayer of tradesmen. And of anything else that threatens her people. Even I wouldn't try a crooked deal with HER--she's the leader of the legendary Wolf Clan that Robotnik's NEVER been able to find." He wiped the anxious perspiration from his brow with his forearm. "And that none of the rest of us would DARE rat on."�

The koala just stared back at him, the enormity of their fortune after so great a bout of mal chance almost too great to process. "They're Freedom Fighters," he croaked.

"Yup."

"Powerful ones. Thriving ones."

"Most likely, kid."

"Ye gods . . ."

The sharp ears of chieftain known as Lupe twitched and curved in the direction of their conversation. "Welcome, friends," she declared, pulling Sprocket to his feet, and placing her arm around his shoulders. "So long as you are in this dear peacemaker's company, you are welcome in my lair."

"Lupe and I," the canine gushed, so much more the person he had been before Snively's repeated double-crossings of the past few days had jaded him, "we are close companions-her family took care of me just before the . . ." He turned to the human whose knees had buckled with the remembered pain of his leg gash. Snively's face was a mask of pure groveling-he was begging to be left in obscurity, despite his suffering.

It was at that moment that the dog realized the wolf queen had no idea who Snively was. Only a lost and frail Overlander boy, in her eyes, who had sought help for his companions' safety. Her mercy towards Snively was bred ONLY of this misconception. For Snively's uncle had ordered her sister Nakuma-Sprocket's once love, and her friends, and ultimately her father, the previous chieftain, shot dead at point blank range, with no fair fight, no decency, years back. "J-just before the coup . . ." he managed to stammer, a chill rushing through his circuitry at the remembrance of ghosts swirling about his head. Once again, the decision between his best friend and his countrymen-one yet unresolved--haunted him.�

Lupe, still blissfully unaware of the immeasurable potential danger, and the grimy darkness, of Snively's presence, only nodded. "Yes, we are indeed friends of old. Now come, Sprocket, and leave this waste. No bounty hunter can discover you where my clan can take you. Let my shaman treat the wounds of your friends." Her tail lashed behind her, whooshing up air that tousled her raven Mohawk. "And we shall see if there is anything my people can do to treat the wounds of your spirits," she turned to Derek, wise eyes boring into the depths of his thoughts, "and, perhaps, to fulfill the desires of your hearts."

Maybe she knew more than the mystery in her eyes let on.

----------------------------------------

Post 79:

J.R. Grant

Nayr wasn�t doing too shabby... he still managed to appear almost as threatening as he had before. Of course, he actually felt like shit. He hadn�t used serious telepathy since his last battle with a mage: an event that had taken place more than four centuries ago. He was on the verge of going catatonic as well. Nayr looked down at the old, yet young looking echidna in his arms.

Her lab coat had black smudges all over it and was torn in an area on her back. Her visor was surprisingly intact, hiding her wide open eyes and small pupils.

He knew that she couldn�t �die�, but turning into a vegetable wasn�t technically dying...aid would have to be administered quite soon. The group of misfits, as there really wasn�t any other word that could describe them, continued through dimly lit corridors deeper into the caves of the hills they were in. It would have looked ridiculous to an outsider: a freedom fighter; a robot that somehow retained his free will; the enemy of the freedom fighter... second in command; himself, the last of his race; an echidna, just a little younger than himself; a bounty hunter and an old lady. Nayr decided that �group of Mobians� might technically work as a description...

�Hey!�, Nack yelled, bringing Nayr out of his random thoughts. Nayr blinked, but quickly recovered.

�What?!� Nayr snarled. He realized they were quite deep in the catacombs now... the area had been nicely cleared out, however. It would make for an excellent home considering the events of the time. Nack rolled his eyes.

�Lupe said you could lay J�Ran over there.� Sprocket replied, pointing to a crudely made hammock. Nayr, slightly embarrassed from his lack of attention, made no change in expression, but instead attended to J�Ran.

* * *

Dulcy was right. She sucked at landings. At first it was all cool. Dulcy just flew out of the back as the ship flew into the tunnel, debris rocketing behind the bus. Dulcy just barely missed getting hit by the debris, however Nic got conked on the head by a rock. The blow was softened by her conveniently placed derby, though, and everyone got away safely... until Dulcy tried to land. Dulcy lowered closer and closer to the ground. It all looked perfect. Then Dulcy lowered her neck straight into the ground. Her head stopped.

Her body and passengers didn�t. The children were thrown off into the sky to suffer a rather rough landing ten meters away. Nic held on to Dulcy�s tail and was thrown straight into the ground. It would take a lot more than that to take the bounty hunter out permanently, though. She reawakened with all the children staring at her. A perfect opportunity... she grabbed the one directly in front of her and brought a blaster to his head. Antoine.

�Great, now let�s talk, shall we?� Nic asked, smiling. �We�ll do exactly as I say, or this one dies.�

�Oh, that�s a big loss...� Sonic mumbled silently to himself, however Sally was close enough to hear and gave him a jab in the side. Nic continued.

�I want all of you back on the dragon.� Nic commanded, still holding the blaster at close proximity to Antoine�s temple. Nic drug herself on top of the dragon with Antoine. �Okay, let�s go!� Nic commanded.

�Just a few more minutes, ma...� Dulcy mumbled. Nic raised an eyebrow.

�What?� Nic asked in confusion. It didn�t take long for Nic to realize that the dragon was obviously still a tad delusional from the crash. Things were not going her way... now they were stranded out in the Great Unknown: AKA the middle of nowhere. Nic looked in the distance. There was a thunderstorm brewing. They needed to find shelter. The Great Unknown�s thunderstorms rarely brought rain, but certainly brought lightning. Anything caught under those clouds was toast. Even if they could fly, that path was a no-go....

Dammit all! Why was everything going wrong? These children would make a great sale on the black market, but they had no way of getting there. The safest course of action would be to get into one of the caves. She dropped Antoine and put her blaster back in her holster.

�Come on everyone. Into the caves.� Nic commanded bitterly.

�Why should we listen to you?� Sonic asked in a cocky voice.

Nic rolled her eyes. �Stubborn little vermin...� She pulled her blaster back out and pointed it at him. �That�s why.� she responded. Of course, she wouldn�t shoot them... they were worth money, but they wouldn�t be worth jackshit if they were dead. They wouldn�t be worth much if they were barbecued by lightning, either, so she NEEDED them in the caves. Nic began walking off, but the children didn�t follow. Nic was really pissed now...

�WHY are you not COMING?!� Nic asked in a very exasperated voice.

�We need to take Dulcy with us!� Sally responded. Nic sighed... Yes, the dragon was worth more than all of those kids put together. She was even angrier now, not because of the children, but because she had been dumb enough to forget about the dragon. If the children hadn�t have noticed that would have been millions down the drain.

�Here, we�ll all pick her up and carry her into the cave with us... and hurry! I don�t want to be caught out here when the thunderstorm comes.� Nic told the kids.

They all walked over and picked her up.

What followed was hell. Although there were several people helping, the dragon was anything but light. They had to frequently set Dulcy down to take a breather. This was not helping, as the thunderstorm was moving towards them more rapidly now. They barely made it into the cave in time. The dragon would surely be awake by the time the storm passed overhead. At that point they could take off...

* * *

Nayr sighed. There was nothing else he could do. He had bandaged all of J�ran�s outside wounds, although they were quite minor thanks to him taking the full blow of the crash for her. Her major wounds were inside her, however. The sadosii had once been excellent at healing. They were masters of giving energy and taking it away.

J�Ran had used all of her pranic energy (OOC: the theoretical energy of your life-force. Something like chi if you know what that is...) to control chaos itself, the one technique both the mages and echidnas shared. Something was still draining her energy... Nayr closed his eyes. It was him. He was draining her life-force to replenish his own. Nayr twisted his mouth into an expression of uncertainty. Without drawing more energy, he would most certainly destroy himself, however if he continued, J�Ran would never come out of her trance. He had to turn the process around with the little energy he still had. Nayr put his hands on one of the main chakras between the eyes (OOC: a chakra is an �astral� organ of sorts that processes and purifies pranic energy. Pranic energy is drawn or given through the various chakras.) and let his energy flow out of him into J�Ran. Nayr fed the energy in as a quick burst and soon collapsed on the ground, trying in vain to absorb energy from the Earth...

-------------------------------------

Post 80:

Tristan Palmgren

An azure-white streak raced down to the ground and smashed itself to bits amongst the sand and rocks. A thunderous cacophony split the air a moment later. The noise was strong enough to overwhelm eardrums and even give the ground a shudder.

The kids all cowered at the noise and some even whimpered. They behaved as though they were more afraid of the light show than they were of the gun that was still trained in their general direction. The stupid brats would be. The kids probably didn't even have the faculties to distinguish between a loud yet unthreatening thunderstorm, and the more subtle yet decidedly dangerous snub nose of a laser pistol.

Nic snarled at them behind their backs as they turned to gawk at the storm. She felt like kicking the closest one.

Her brother had mastered the technique of at least appearing civil when he was trying to get something he wanted. He could blend in with the crowd, at least appear to be like them, when he was involved in his own greedy pursuits. He could restrain his anger. He could tolerate the inane behavior of his marks. This... tact... was something that Nic had yet to master. She was quickly losing her patience with this bunch.

She was no babysitter. If only she'd had enough rope to bind and gag them, this would be so much easier.

She aimed the laser pistol at the hedgehog's head. Only the remembrance that she was aiming the weapon at walking money kept her from pulling the trigger. Instead, she pointed at the ground only centimeters away from the hedgehog's shoes, and fired.

The laser blew up a cloud of sand and rocks that fell across his feet. He was so startled by the sensation that he jumped and stumbled. The other children shrieked at the whine of the laser.

She moved the pistol to aim at the head of a random child: the Princess, as it turned out. "Let's go!" she barked. "If you keep wasting time here, the thunderstorm will get you before my laser can!"

In truth, they were already high enough in the foothills that the fierce storm would miss them entirely. The kids probably didn't know that, though, and so it was a useful threat.

What the storm could do, however, was prevent her timely return to �chten Sie Island. There were no doubt several hover vehicles on their way here. Nic had awoken part-way through the aerial chase -- she'd seen the two pirate airships destroyed by enemy weapons. That loss wouldn't sit easily with the thugs' bosses back on �chten Sie. They'd be sending more airships out soon enough to avenge their losses.

Nic had planned to flag one of them down and hitch a ride back to the island, kids securely tucked away in the cargo hold beneath. Unfortunately, the thunderstorm would interfere with both her signal and the airships' flight. She'd have to wait until the storm passed before she could bring these cattle to the market.

The hedgehog looked down at his shoes. Some of the red on his soles was slightly darker than they had been before. The laser must've singed them. When he looked back up at her, anger burned in his eyes. "Hey, man! These are my best sneaks!"

This had started out as such a simple deal...

"Your sneakers will be all that's left of you if you don't start moving where I tell you to," she said matter-of-factly.

The kids looked at her again; awareness of just how deep they were in trouble beginning to dawn in their eyes. "Ah don't understand," one of them, a rabbit, said, "Wut are you trying to do? Kidnap us?" She clearly wasn't the brightest of them.

Nic cocked her head. "If by kidnap, you mean treat you like the living cargo you are, then yes."

The rabbit's eyes widened at this realization; sufficiently cowed, she didn't say anything more. Nic waved her gun in the direction of the caves. "Come on, let's go. We'll be safe in the foothill caves if you start hiking now."

"No."

The answer was simple. Direct. The words were crisp and surprisingly adult-like... yet unbearably obstinate at the same time.

Nic turned to face the kids, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

It was the Princess who stood defiant. Her face betrayed no expression beyond a distant calm; there was force behind her stance, but she did a good job of keeping her emotions hidden. She looked to have moved to a different plane of existence entirely. She crossed her arms, and remained rooted to the spot.

Nic was barely fazed. She had dealt with more difficult captives when dealing with the slave markets... but even so, there was something unnerving about this one. Her shoulder joint rotated smoothly, bringing the pistol to bear on a mark directly in the center of the child's forehead with the minimum of effort on her part.

The Princess regarded the pistol with the same aloof expression.

This one was going to be infuriating, Nic could tell. She knew only a bit of the history of the Acorn lineage, and had to struggle to recall the child's name -- Sally, wasn't it? "Look, Sally, you strike me as a pretty intelligent little girl. You're good at math, I'm sure. Now, here's me, with a gun, and telling you what to do; and there's you, refusing to do what I tell you. Tell me, if you don't move, what do you think the solution to this equation will be?"

"You won't shoot me," Sally said. "Not if you're planning to sell me. If you kill me, you won't be able to make any money, after all."

Sally slowly sat down in the sand, behaving as if this were the most natural thing in the world. She folded her legs into a lotus position once she was down. She regarded the pistol exactly as she would any other unthreatening object, like a comb or a chair.

A subdued rumble escaped Nic's throat. She turned the pistol's safety on, and then off again. Such an action served no real purpose, of course, but early in her career she'd discovered that the menacing sound of the clicks echoing throughout the weapon's firing chamber had a definite effect on a person's psyche. She shifted the pistol's aim slightly downwards, until it would pierce the squirrel's heart if it were fired.

"I can get rid of one or two of you," she growled, almost purring, "and still maintain an acceptable profit margin."

Nic's finger tightened on the trigger.

But before she could pull it, a brash voice exclaimed, "But not all of us!"

The hedgehog moved in front of Sally to block the pistol's aim, and then... very proudly, he sat down, too. He crossed his arms pointedly, and looked straight at the laser pistol's nozzle.

Nic held the pistol steady and didn't fire. For a moment, and for the first time in awhile, she was unsure.

The rabbit looked at both of her friends on the ground, and then sat down next to them. She had the same placid expression on her face. The most irritating thing about this was the way they were being incredibly defiant to the person with the gun, yet their expressions showed no sign of it. They acted as though this was just an ordinary, unremarkable activity. The walrus sat next. The dragon joined them a moment later. Her tail curled protectively around the trembling coyote kid, pulling him to the ground. He fell to a sitting position without protest, arm hugging the dragon's tail.

All six kids stared up mutely at Nic.

Slowly, incredulously, she lowered her pistol. All of them were spontaneously refusing to move, even under the threat of death. They were all doing it together... all protecting each other. She'd never dealt with any captives that behaved like this before.

Didn't they understand just how skewed against them the balance of power was? She was the one with the weapon. She was the murderer. They were the kidnapped children. They couldn't just ignore that ratio. They couldn't...

...They could. The hedgehog was right. She could reasonably execute one or two of them for sitting down and not moving. But all of them? There was no money in that.

She could probably overpower any of them -- with the exception of the dragon -- and physically drag them up to the caves, but she could only manage one or two of them that way. She couldn't take all of them. She couldn't kill all of them. She didn't have any alternative except... to do nothing. This was absolutely outrageous. And incredible.

Well, they were still far enough up in the foothills that the thunderstorm would miss them. They *could* just wait here until it passed, though they'd risk detection from the airbus survivors...

Nic seemed to be out of other options. Slowly, she let gravity lower the pistol, until she finally tucked it back into her holster.

She and the kids stared wordlessly at each other for another moment, until finally, Nic dropped to her knees and sat down herself. She figured she might as well settle down, because it was going to be a long standoff. She kept one hand near her pistol holster, in case one of the kids assumed that this minor victory meant that they could try being even more of a hero.

"You're absolutely nuts, you know?" she asked, shaking her head, "What are you trying to do?"

At last, the serenity on Sally's expression vanished long enough for her to crack a smile. She said, "Freedom Fight."

***

Plink.

"Ouch."

Plink.

"Ouch."

Sprocket pulled away from the toolsmith for a moment, bringing a hand up to rub his dented skullpiece. The toolsmith obliged him by temporarily holding off on more chisel blows. Sprocket regarded the utensil with mild annoyance.

"You know, I'm really starting to wish you had a little more advanced cybernetics technology here. Or," he added as an afterthought, "at least could find a way to turn off the pain receptors in my head case."

"Sorry," the wolven toolsmith said, smiling slightly. "You may be able to find full structural scanners or even robot diagnostic equipment closer to the city, but out here, this is the best we've got. Turn your head back towards me, please." Sprocket sighed miserably and obliged him, allowing the chisel full access to the dents again.

The toolsmith continued, "Besides, I'm the only one in the pack who's even remotely familiar with how your metal body works. You should feel lucky to have me as your doctor." Plink.

"Ouch."

The chisel strikes weren't strong enough to actually repair any of the dented plating. Far from it. The toolsmith was actually using the chisel as a diagnostic tool. Sprocket admitted, it was a pretty clever use of such simple technology. In actuality, whenever the light chisel struck Sprocket's metal plating, it created an almost musical high-pitched chime. The noise was actually the echo of the chisel tap resonating throughout the metal manifolds of Sprocket's body. The toolsmith listened carefully to the noise's resonance, and used it as a sort of crude echo-location to find out where the areas of greatest structural damage were. Such an undertaking would have been all but impossible, had it not been for the extraordinary sensitivity of the toolsmith's finely-crafted canine ears.

All in all, it was a remarkable procedure. Beautiful, even. So far, the toolsmith had correctly identified several extremely damaged portions in Sprocket's skeletal structure, even a few that were only internal. Sprocket's own domesticated canine senses had never been as sharp as this wolf's hearing, even before his ears had been turned into numb electronic sensors.

The unfortunate downside of it was, of course, that the toolsmith had to use his chisel to strike at the dents in Sprocket's plating. It was a sensation roughly analogous to an organic person repeatedly striking their own sore bruise with a mallet.

Plink.

This time, Sprocket managed to restrain his automatic, nearly-Pavlovian protest. He made a conscious decision to relax and accept the chisel strikes as they came.

Derek stood at the other corner of the room, watching the chisel land with a tired fascination. He had given up on trying to make any sense of them, and had been there long enough to start leaning against the wall. He was lost in other thoughts now. For some reason, he looked dejected, although Sprocket couldn't figure out why.

At least, Derek abandoned his trance. He shook his head, and broke the silence. "How bad is the damage? Um... is it restricted to just surface dents? Something that could be repaired quickly?"

"I can't tell if there's any actual circuitry damage; not with just this technique," the toolsmith. After a moment, he added, "Obviously. I can tell you, though, that avalanche did more damage than it might seem from the outside. Several of his structural joints were snapped by the weight of the debris. That's the equivalent of an organic person breaking a bone."

Plink.

Derek suddenly looked back at Sprocket, concerned. "But he doesn't look like he's broken any-"

"I said that's the equivalent of, not exactly the same as," the wolf interrupted. "He's still able to function, of course, just not as well as he used to. Workerbots were designed with multiple redundancies in case of just such an event. If he keeps moving, though, he's just going to make the damage worse. Gears will become misaligned, and start grinding against the wrong things. Eventually, the broken parts would tear him apart from the inside. It'd be best if your friend stayed here for a couple days, while I scavenge some metal to build replacement parts: give the bones a chance to 'set,' as it were."

Derek's gaze remained on Sprocket for another couple moments, an emotion akin to deep worry in his eyes. But there was... something else there, too. Soft eyes glinted in the glowing firelight of the cavern, laden with concern for the sorry-looking canine sitting in the examination chair.

Suddenly, self-consciously, Derek shook his head, and cleared his expression. The concern vanished, repressed underneath harder eyes. He gave Sprocket one last, sad glance, and then turned back to face empty air.

"Then I'm going to have to set off without you," he said.

Plink.

"Set off?" Sprocket asked. "Why? Where to?"

"Where do you think? The children are still somewhere out there, and so's Nic. If she... if she found them..." Derek's voice was suddenly so quiet that it was barely audible, and then it picked up again. "She could have brought them back to Ackten Sea by now. Gods, they could even be on the slave market!"

"Slow down," Sprocket said. "Yes, they're out there somewhere, but you don't know that they're in danger. We'll find them soon. Derek... Nic's probably dead, too. Don't worry about her."

Derek kept staring off into space. "I shouldn't have done this to Rosie. This is my fault. I shouldn't have let her down."

"Don't say that. Don't panic, either," Sprocket said. "Stay cool, and take this one step at a-"

He cut himself off when he realized he wasn't being listened to.

"Goodbye, Sprocket."

With that, Derek was gone, out the door. He didn't even spare a glance backwards.

Sprocket regarded the door with a mixture of curiosity and repentance. He wondered if it was something he'd done that'd provoked Derek. Maybe the koala was still angry about the scene back on Ackten Sea. Somehow, though, he didn't really believe it. A part of him wanted to stand up and give chase, but so long as the examination was still underway, he couldn't. Besides, if the toolsmith was right about his broken structure, he didn't want to move very much anyway.

Instead, all he could do was say, "Good luck," to the empty door frame.

Plink.

***

The wolves, hospitable as ever, took him back to the airbus wreckage when he asked. The ship was so much scrap. The rolling landing had reduced it to little more than a husk of twisted metal. It had fallen apart into more than one piece, as it turned out.

Some of the more industrious wolves had already even started to pick apart the ship, scavenging for parts they could use. Derek had known ahead of time that the wolves wouldn't even think to ask for permission before disassembling it. Ownership was a concept difficult for this culture to accept. Hell, it had been something Nack hadn't even bothered to consider when he'd stolen the ship. He didn't mind. The wolves were more then welcome to the fruits of his failure, if they could glean any use from it.

He picked through the scattered debris and wreckage, looking for anything that might be of use. Maybe the airship's previous tenants had left some tools, or even a weapon, in some untouched corner.

The wolven pack leader, who was also apparently Sprocket's old friend, Lupe, had been the one who'd accompanied him back here. She regarded the wreckage with a critical eye. "Are you sure you wish to go back to the people who were capable of doing this?" she asked.

"I don't want to," Derek said, throwing aside a slate of metal and rooting through the assorted junk underneath. "I have to."

"We've had... encounters... with the inhabitants of that island before. They're an unsavory people, and they shouldn't be trusted." Pointedly, she added, "Or trifled with."

"I can't believe they're all evil," Derek said automatically. "Or, even if they are, I can't believe that they'd want to be that way. Hard times craft hard people. I should know."

"So what are you going to do?" Lupe asked. "Save them?"

"No. I just think we should find out more about them, before...no..." Derek shook his head. "You know what? You're right, they're worthless. I don't care about them. The only thing I want to do is to find Nic and the kids. They're somewhere out there, and if Nic did survive the crash, they could be in serious trouble." He looked around, remembering something. "Hey, has Rosie made it back here yet? She said she's in good enough shape to lead the search."

"She went off earlier." Lupe pointed towards the collapsed mouth of the cave. "I believe she's ahead at the patrol ship's landing site, preparing it for launch."

Derek couldn't see much in the darkness of the cavern, but he remembered approximately where the patrol ship was parked. He wondered briefly how Rosie planned to leave -- the cavern opening was still very much caved in. She probably wanted to blast out with the ship's lasers. Derek wasn't a miner or spelunking expert; he had no idea whether that would work, or how long it would take. He shrugged, and bent back down to keep scavenging.

"Finding these children you say you had with you is a nobler goal, certainly." Lupe circled around him, peering at the crushed shell of the airbus's passenger compartment, talking as she went. "I, uh, know that it's not your only one, either. I spoke a bit with some of the others before we came with the others. I heard you're looking for a place to shelter and feed a group of your friends when they pass this way."

Derek stopped moving. Ari and the other Freedom Fighters; in the midst of all the chaos and the disappearance of the children, he'd nearly forgot about this. He turned to Lupe. "You mean you can-"

Lupe cut him off, a sad tone in her voice. "I wanted to tell you that this isn't the place for you," she said. "If this were our ancestral homeland, the situation would be different, but food is always scarce out here in the desert. It's difficult enough when everybody contributes, but there simply isn't enough in the stocks for a dozen people who just pass through without working in turn. Besides, the elders want as few people passing through here as possible. This place is supposed to be a secret, after all. I'm sorry, but you're going to have to find someplace else."

Derek felt grim. He'd nearly forgotten about his mission, and had been reminded of it just in time to yank the closest thing to a solution out from under his nose. He kicked a pile of the metal scrap just out of spite -- he succeeded only in stubbing his toe quite badly. He made an effort not to reveal how much agony his toe was in.

"Well," he said, wincing, "then that's another reason why I have to go back to the island. That's the only place around here that could even reasonably have the supplies we need."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Lupe said, sounding as if he'd just signed his own death sentence.

"Yeah, yeah," Derek grumbled.

Lupe awkwardly looked down at the ground didn't seem to be getting along very well. Yes, she was just as hospitable as the rest of her pack, and he didn't doubt that she was a good person, but something between them just didn't seem to click. They may have been occupying the same physical space, but there was still a wedge between them. Derek knew that it was mostly his fault. He wasn't in a mood to make new friends, and he wasn't taking any pains to hide that. Maybe they could've gotten along in other circumstances... but not now.

So be it. Derek wasn't out to make friends here.

She was clearly looking for a way to leave. She hiked a thumb over her shoulder. "I'm... I'm going to go check see how Sprocket's doing. Tarnor ought to have a better idea of how badly his systems are damaged by now. You and Rosie should be able to find your way out of here."

"Have fun," Derek said halfheartedly.

Lupe turned, and was gone.

Derek hunted through the scraps of metal for another few minutes, then gave up. There was obviously nothing useful left in there. He went onwards, towards the part of the cave that the Robotropolis patrol unit was parked. He found it warmed up and waiting for him to board... and there were more people than just Rosie in there.

"Hey, kid!" Nack called from the ship's open doorway. "C'mon, we've been waiting for you."

"You're the last person I expected to see here," Derek said as he approached. "I thought you'd slunk back off to... whatever you usually do."

Nack held his hand up to his chest in mock injury. "Would I bail on this party now, after all we've been through together?" Now he used the hand to tilt his derby in Derek's direction. His voice lowered. "Besides, I haven't gotten my payment from Nanny woodchuck in there yet, and I want to make sure I get what I'm owed."

"Of course," Derek said, dryly. Despite himself, he was actually pleased that Nack had decided to remain with them. The weasel certainly had a ruthlessness that could prove useful. After recent events... perhaps it was a quality Derek should try to engender more of in himself.

He slipped past Nack and into the lit interior of the patrol craft. It took a moment to his eyes to adjust from the darkness of the cave.

It felt good to be back in an airship that was at least kept in decent condition. Even before the crash, the airbus had felt as though it were one step away from wreckage anyway. This one smelt of oil and other robot smells, but it was at least clean, and everything was in proper working order. There were intact chairs, and controls and gauges all functioned. The airbus's interior had been permanently etched into his memory, and it was a relief to even be in a vessel that looked different.

There was a second surprise here: Nayr paced through the length of the patrol ship. Somehow, he looked at once calm and restless, in that peculiar fashion of his. Derek paused in the entryway, with one hand on the doorframe.

"This is some gathering," Derek said. This time he left it unsaid that he hadn't been expecting Nayr here, either. At least now he know how Rosie planned to clear all the rocks blocking the cavern entrance. Telekinesis could doubtlessly clear an avalanche a lot easier than lasers alone could. "I didn't think that there would be this many people already here. Are you all waiting for me?"

"Yes," Nayr responded, not breaking stride, "though I think Ms. Wells up there is planning on leaving soon, with or without you."

Derek had almost forgotten Rosie's last name. He glanced up at the door that led to the patrol ship's cramped control cabin, and then around the rest of the ship. He started to ask something, but then his memory stumbled in remembering a name. "Where's... where's..."

"J�Ran?"

"Yes, J�Ran," Derek nodded.

"She's not aboard. She's not in any condition to help; she's still recovering from her exertions. I left her with Sprocket, Snively, and the wolf pack." His tone gave a clear signal that he wasn't happy with this decision, but had decided that necessity took precedence. "The few doctors they have there promised to take care of her. As for me, I decided to not to remain with her while she recovers, but instead to accompany you and Rosie on your search. I have... vested interests here."

Derek peered at him. Vested interests? Try as he might, Derek could think of no compelling reason why Nayr should choose to accompany them once again. Was it possible that this his roundabout way of saying that he cared? Or was there something else?

Either way, he gave no other sign of the answer. He kept pacing, expression unfathomable, as always.

"Well, it's good to see you here," Derek told him.

He waited for the sadosii to acknowledge that, but when he didn't, he turned and stepped through the door that led to the patrol ship's control cabin.

"I'm glad you're here," Rosie said. She barely looked up at his entrance, but that didn't confer any apathy on her part. She was merely occupied. She was hunched over one of the damaged flight control panels, and peering at its innards. She was hunched so that not much was visible of her beyond her red cloak. "Since Sprocket's going to remain behind, you're the only one I know of who can even fly this hunk of junk. I'm not much of a pilot myself, you understand."

Derek looked at her back, a peculiar kind of regret welling in his throat. He couldn't bring himself to voice it, though. "I didn't do such a hot job back in the airbus."

"Better than I would," she said. She beckoned to him. "Come over here and help me with repairs."

Rosie clearly wasn't a technician; neither was Derek. They really couldn't do any actual repairs on damaged systems themselves. The most they could manage to run bypass through other systems. For instance, the airship's sensor monitors had been broken sometime during the attack. Derek got them operational again by running the displays through the monitors that formerly displayed data on the ship's engine status. Power grids linked to the shielding system had been fried by one of the Ackten Sea ships' lasers -- so they had to take some of the secondary thrusters offline, and reroute power through their grids in order to get the shielding back online. The shields weren't functional to the degree that they had been before, and the ship lost some of its maneuverability along with the thrusters, but the ship would fly and everything worked.

"So you think they're back at Ackten Sea, too?" Derek asked, part of his mind still on resetting power matrixes.

Rosie's face creased with worry. "That's the only place I can think to look. I just know that they escaped the airbus before the crash," or else their bodies would've been there, she didn't say, "and that they probably would've found us by now, if they could. But if that... that woman survived and managed to get them, that's the only place she would have taken them."

"Then we have to get there before Nic does," Derek said. "She doesn't have a ship, so maybe we'll beat her back. We have to. You didn't see have the things I saw there. You don't know how brutal Ackten Sea is. Ackten Sea is... is... it's not..." He trailed off for a moment. "Ackten... �ch... �cchten... �chten Sie. Oh gods.

To Rosie's ears, the words Derek had repeated hadn't sounded much different. "What is it?"

Derek ran a trembling hand through his forehead fur. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I've been thinking of the word the wrong way. I've mentally misspelled it. I must've misheard it when the city was talking to us over the radio. It makes more sense. Why would they have part of the name be 'Sea' when it's an island? It's not Ackten Sea. It's �chten Sie." Again, the words didn't sound very different, but Derek's voice took on a distinctly different guttural tone when he said the newer version. "�chten Sie Island. I recognize those words."

"Recognize it?" Rosie asked. She didn't look like she was following him. Derek was too busy feeling his heart sink to notice. "From where?"

"Overlander dialect." Derek clenched his fist until he was nearly pulling out whole clumps of fur. "Ancient Germanic."

Rosie's eyes lit up with recognition as she saw the phonetic similarities. There were few other languages on Mobius that had the same guttural pitch. "I see it! I know what you mean -- but I never studied the language. I recognize the sounds, but not the words. Do you know what it means?"

Derek had only briefly studied languages even when he'd had the opportunity, but this was a fairly common word, and it stuck out like a sore thumb. "It means outlaw. Criminal. Pirate. This means that the city doesn't have any other history or purpose. It's called �chten Sie because that's what it was founded to be from its very beginning. A base for piracy. Nothing else. It's corrupted to its core." The revelation hit him hard. He had been hoping that there was some other meaning to this city; something beyond just what he'd seen there. Some trace of mercy. But even its very name fought against that idea.

He opened his eyes, even though he didn't feel like seeing much of the world right now. "And that place is where Nic's probably taking the kids."

Rosie looked down at the control panels for a moment, not really seeing them. She turned this over in her mind. A place not just converted for the use of piracy, but actually built for it... and the very significant chance that Sally, Antoine, Sonic -- her charges -- were being taken there... none of it sat very well in her stomach. She straightened. "We'll prepare for take-off and get out there right this minute."

"I'm sorry." Derek's voice cracked. The well of regret he'd been blocking away had finally broken loose after this new discovery.

Rosie was already half-way out of her seat when she turned back to look at him. He wasn't moving. He just sat in the pilot's chair, slumped over the controls. She barely caught a glimpse of red-rimmed eyes before he turned away, unwilling to look at her.

"I really am."

She asked, "For what?"

"I'm the one to blame for all this. If I hadn't insisted... If I hadn't forced you to help me, we wouldn't be here right now. You'd still have your kids. They'd be safe. *You'd* be safe. We wouldn't have to go through with this."

Miserably, he went on, "You wouldn't owe your soul to Nack. Sprocket wouldn't have been hurt by that avalanche. He wouldn't have had to murder those �chten Sie pilots. Robotnik wouldn't be out searching for Snively, and probably tracing him right back to these caverns and these innocent wolves. J�Ran wouldn't have drained her life away trying to save my sorry ass, and those �chten Sie pilots would still be alive. Your kids wouldn't be hostages." Derek's neck craned down until his forehead touched the control panel. Suddenly, his throat convulsed, as if he were choking. "I wouldn't have found out I have no soul!"

A broken, self-disparaging chuckle escaped him. "All this damage, and I still haven't come any closer to finding supplies for Ari. I'm a failure. If they all starve, I'll have killed them, too."

Rosie wasn't at all sure what to say. Maternal instincts wanted her to comfort any creature in so much pain, but... She wasn't sure what that last sentence meant, but a significant part of her agreed with him. It was obviously her worst side, but it was her nonetheless. That part of her was *angry* with him. She was bitter for being forced to go through this nightmare, and she did blame him for his role in it. She did her best to suppress this feeling... ineffectually.

"You didn't have any control over the kids," she said half-heartedly. "You didn't tell them to follow you. I should've kept a closer watch over them."

"I should've flown them back to you when I found them," Derek replied disparagingly.

Rosie was at a loss. "So... so suppose all this is true. Suppose you're right. You did make the wrong decisions. What are you going to do about it?"

"Do about it?" he repeated dumbly.

"If you're going to sit there and cry, then you'll want to disembark before this ship takes off. Because, whether or not we have a capable pilot, we're going to �chten Sie. If you're not prepared for that, then you'd be more welcome back in the wolves' caves."

Rosie hated herself for being this cold, but she didn't see any other way to go at this point.

"We'll lift off in about five minutes. What you do from this point on, is up to you."

She backed out of the control cabin, and shut the door behind her.

***

After four minutes and thirty seconds, Derek realized he was going to do the only thing he felt he could. Mistakes or no, failure or no, soul or no soul, he was going to make up for his blunders. He was going to go after those kids.

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