Hop To It - Eclipse 9

[Tails]

Lovely morning for a flight. The sight of all those G.U.N. ships surrounding the island kind of spoiled the view, but the weather was nice and the wind was under his wings.

Okay. Structural integrity… holding. Engine… steady. Wings… Uh, left wing wobbling alarmingly. Tails reached out with a wrench and physically held it in place, which wasn’t easy, but the alternative was it snapping off. Tails would be fine, he could fly, but he wasn’t willing to lose the Cyclone to something so stupid.

Still, not bad for twelve hours of work.

Tails flew closer to the island, keeping one hand on the wing. “That’s gotta be the place, no doubt about it. A secret military base that is reinforced and super strong!”

Prison Island. Tails refused to believe that Sonic could be responsible for any of the things the military was accusing him of. He started turning, to loop around. The Cyclone was still a work in progress; in order to get it ready in time, Tails had to cut a lot of ideas. Among them was a radar scrambler that would have rendered him invisible to G.U.N. detection… he’d needed the extra space for the gun. If he’d had more time he could have had it all, but… Sonic needed him.

And speaking of people who needed him… Tails looked down as he buzzed past the outlying ships. “What? Amy? And Eggman too?!” And another pair of Mobians running away; trying to get away from trouble? They probably weren’t important.

Dr. Eggman was in his Egg Mobile, refitted into a walker, and had Amy cornered!

“What’s Amy doing here?” Tails asked, a little incredulous. He shook his head; it didn’t matter why she was here, because she was here and she needed help. And helping her was the right thing to do! 

Tails grinned, anticipating, and pressed a button. “Tornado… transform!”

Cyclone. He meant Cyclone. Oh, well, it didn’t matter. No one actually heard.

The new plane was rough around the edges, and if Tails wanted to keep it, he’d need to rebuild it better at the first opportunity. But that was okay, because he’d built it as a robot first and a plane second.

The Cyclone shuddered and groaned as parts shifted and split apart, slipping into a new configuration. The engine cut out and the plane dropped out of the sky, and it was a walker of his very own that landed on the carrier’s deck.

Amy yelped, surprised, and Eggman’s mech jumped back out of the way as Tails landed between them. “Not so fast, Eggman!”

“Boy, am I glad to see you!” Amy said happily, once she realized who it was. Then she took in the Cyclone and blinked. “Uh…”

“Hohoho!” Eggman chortled. “Nice ride, boy. I didn’t know you were into restoring old wrecks!”

Tails scowled, cheeks flushing. “It was a rush job!” he defended. “The paint wasn’t a priority!”

It definitely wasn’t his best work; pride wouldn’t let him go out to rescue Sonic in plain silver, but he didn’t have time to be careful. The Cyclone was a mess of blue and yellow, and the metal underneath poked through all over. Tails had been trying not to think about it.

Eggman smiled nastily. “A rush job, eh? That’s too bad.” A missile launcher unfolded from the back of his mech. “Because you’d need a hundred years and more to hope to match me!”

Tails swallowed harshly. The Cyclone’s gun was armor-piercing, perfect for dealing with an enemy walker… but it was also the only gun it had. Eggman was better armed. But Sonic had proven time and again that firepower didn’t matter if you couldn’t hit your target. The Cyclone could still make use of the jet engines for high jumps, quick turns, and bursts of speed. He just needed to avoid all of Eggman’s missiles while hitting all of his own shots.

Easy. R-right?

Not easy. Not easy at all. Eggman’s opening volley nearly tore one of the Cyclone’s ventral fins off, and in short order Tails was struggling to stay ahead. He wasn't able to so much as line up a shot before he had to turn to avoid one incoming. He was regretting having the forward gun mounted to the front instead of on a swivel.

After just thirty seconds, it became clear that without any homing weapons of his own, Tails couldn’t fight back.

“Amy! Hop on!”

“What?”

“Just do it!”

Hearing the urgency in his voice, Amy jumped into the cockpit behind Tails’s seat, and he turned the Cyclone around. With a quick boost, the mech was running away, Eggman’s jeering taunts trailing behind them. He hopped onto another docked ship and focused on putting distance between them.

“Tails, what are you doing?!”

“Getting you to safety,” he said, which was true enough.

“...Not that I’m not glad to see you, but what are you even doing here?” Amy asked, gripping the seat tightly to avoid getting thrown off.

“I should be asking you that!” Tails retorted. “Don’t you know how dangerous it is here?”

“I’m here to rescue my hero, Sonic, of course!” Amy sighed dreamily, and Tails rolled his eyes. “Eggman’s up to no good again,” she went on, a little more seriously. “I didn’t hear everything he was saying to those other guys, but it didn’t sound good. We’ve got to save Sonic now!”

“We?” Tails asked, then frowned. He didn’t exactly want Amy to tag along. She could be a lot to handle. But on the other hand, Tails knew she was strong, and fast when she wanted to be, and with his weapons as lacking as they were… “Alright.”

He came to a stop, making sure Eggman wasn’t following them. Tails looked around. They were close now to the main island, and the prison complex loomed over them. In the distance an alarm was sounding, so it wouldn’t be long before they had company.

“...Stay close,” he said at last. “I’ll need you to watch my back.”

“You got it!”

“And keep an eye out for any weapons stockpiles. The Cyclone is still a work in progress, and I’ll take any chance to upgrade after that fight.”

Amy smirked. “About that… Rush job, you said?”

“...Yeah?” He sensed a trap.

“So you were in such a hurry you couldn’t paint it, but you still had time to put your logo on it?” she asked, pointing at the twin-tails picture on the mech’s leg.”

“...” Tails looked pointedly forward. “Anyway, Sonic’s waiting for us. Let’s go!”

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

[Iota]

98%...99%...100%. Charging complete. Ending sleep mode.

Iota powered on, snapping to alertness the instant his optics came online. Analytics took in every detail it could, Tactical began assessing the environment for threats, Diagnostics returned a report, and Iota’s adaptive processing began a truncated overview of the night’s security footage; that was finished first, because the only activity noted was the rise and fall of Big’s chest as he snored; the security footage was discarded.

Tactical assured adaptive processing that no ghosts were present.

Diagnostics finished the internal scan and found no irregularities, next sending a request for a visual outer scan. Iota complied, and found that his paint had been scratched in a few places. Mostly by his sudden and unpleasant stop last night after the incident. Nothing with potential to be debilitating, but a note regarding paint touch-ups was logged and archived for later.

Tactical assured adaptive processing that no ghosts were present.

Analytics noted the inside of this small alcove, and wondered at the purpose of it. The double doors leading in were Gothic in design, as in the countercultural movement AND the architectural style. Skulls were a recurring motif in Pumpkin Hill. They were engraved on the door, carved into the stone walls, used as toppers to fence posts, and just left lying around. The masonry of this room was old and crumbling, and only amounted to one wall; on further analysis, it seemed as though this room in the side of the cliff had been a naturally occurring cave that someone had walled over and added a door. Big was still sleeping.

Tactical assured adaptive processing that no ghosts were present.

Iota paused his startup overview to look over Tactical, who was oddly insistent. The files it was sending reference unopened notifications that Iota had left for later, emotive packets that had been generated as error reports during the incident. Iota took a moment to open them.

They were difficult to parse. Iota was capable of feeling emotion, but as a computational being he was also able to separate himself from his emotions if he found it necessary, stopping emotive processes if they were impeding his function. The files themselves were not readable files in a way that could be understood by outside observers, had there been any. Emotions were not something easily quantified. Iota’s emotive packets were, essentially, snapshots of his adaptive processing at a point where a certain emotion had been felt.

Opening these packets was a similar sensation to finding an old poem or drawing you’d written and being reminded of how you felt when you made it.

Iota spent some time processing the emotions of last night, and came to a conclusion: terror was Not Fun. They were summarily deleted.

A new emotive packet was returned, and Tactical assured adaptive processing that no ghosts were present.

…Noted.

Iota had been sitting in place for nearly ninety seconds at that point, and so finally stood up. Big’s arm, which had been resting on Iota’s lap, was gently set on the ground, and Iota stepped outside. According to his chronometer, it was mid-afternoon.

Pumpkin Hill seemed to be taking that information on sufferance, as the sky was overcast and darkened, and what could be seen through the cloud cover was a sickly yellow. It was eerie outside. This was not what Iota had been expecting. He had been expecting a fun, charmingly spooky environment with plentiful bats, owls and vultures. Delightful creatures.

Something shifted, and Iota’s head swiveled to bring it into full view of his cameras.

A rat. An animal. Finally, something Iota understood.

Crouching low onto his wheels, Iota bent as far forward as his anatomy would allow and zoomed in to observe the rodent. Black fur and red eyes. Unusually bristly, and surprisingly dextrous forepaws, but lacking the characteristic visible sclerae that usually signified that a creature was actually a Mobini.

The rat saw him watching it and cautiously continuing along its way, keeping one eye trained on him as it went. It wasn’t running away like the animals of Mystic Ruins used to, which Iota considered a positive, but still regarded him with caution.

There was the faintest creaking of wood, and the rat froze. One of Iota’s optics turned to look while the other remained on the rat; a small owl had landed on the wooden fence guarding the edge of the nearby cliff. Its species was difficult to determine; it had some of the characteristics of a Scops, but more exact classification escaped him due to its coloration; the same colors as the rat, in fact. Black, unkept, and red eyes. It even had feather tufts resembling horns, which were… tipped in red.

Iota slowly stood back up, content to observe from a distance as the rat backed up into a patch of long grass, trying to escape the owl’s attention.

Analytics: If the ‘haunted’ biome truly involved spirits, what environmental pressures would potentially hostile ghosts add? How would an animal adapt to them? Do red eyes confer some sort of advantage to dealing with ghosts?

This was what Iota wanted from this trip. Now that his horrific incident of terror was over, maybe he could enjoy himself after all--

The scops screeched in alarm and took off. The rat skittered out of the grass and into a hole in the rock wall behind Iota. Tactical: Localized tremors detected.

Oh? Curious. Moles? No, this place was spooky. What was an appropriately grim burrowing animal? Giant spider, perhaps? Iota had nothing to fear from that.

Iota jumped back as something burst from the ground in front of him. A gloved fist with prominent spikes on the knuckles, attached to a red-furred arm. A Mobian of some description, then.

“Surprise: Hello, sir, what brings you here?”

The other did not answer, simply pulling himself out of the ground. He dusted himself off, having apparently not heard him.

Iota was perplexed; he was not able to identify the species morph of this individual. He was familiar, but memory was unable to return a proper reason why. Was this a tenrec? He had long quills that hung down past his shoulders, a common trait of tenrecs that rendered them distinct from hedgehogs, whose quills tended to have a springy quality to them that made them stick out, thought not to the same extent as porcupines--

Encyclopedia: Record found--Quilled Mobian, hanging dreads, spiked knuckles, long bent tail, vibrant red coloration; these traits belong to the Echidna morph.

Ah, alright then. This was an Echidna. Interesting animals, those were. One of only two mammal types to lay eggs.

Encyclopedia: Records indicate that Echidna Mobians are registered as extinct.

…

The echidna, having been occupied scanning his surroundings, suddenly twitched and turned around. “A Chaos Emerald?” He blinked, looking up at Iota. “Gk?!”

He jumped back and settled into a boxer’s stance. “One of Eggman’s robots, here?!”

Iota stared. Echidnas were extinct. Extinct.

Tactical assured adaptive processing that there probably weren’t any ghosts here.

But this was an echidna, who were extinct, and…

“...Terror: A ghost!”

The echidna blinked, taken aback. “A what? Where?”

Iota’s hand retracted, and from within his arms a pair of gun barrels emerged. Problem: he had no ammunition. Fact: this was a short-range grenade launcher designed to fire grenades through the use of air compression. Solution: rocks.

In a panic, Iota retreated within himself, and Tactical took over. He crouched down and stuck his arms into the stony earth, and when he pulled back his barrels were filled with rock and dirt.

“Wha--”

The echidna dodged to the side as a volley of dirt flew at him with a dry shoonk sound. Unfortunately, he dodged directly into the rock fired from the other cannon, which hit him in the stomach.

“I should have known Eggman’s robots would be tricky, but this is a new one!” He waved a fist angrily. “I won’t let you take that Emerald to him!”

Analytics: The ghost has ire towards Eggman and believes you to be affiliated with him. The ghost accused you of stealing a Chaos Emerald. Conclusion: the ghost was killed and robbed of an Emerald by Eggman.

Iota was not fond of Eggman at the moment.

The echidna ghost leaped forward, fist pulled back for a haymaker that Iota avoided. The punch hit the ground instead, and cratered it.

Tactical: Avoid getting hit at all costs.

“Terror: You won’t steal my heart, demon!”

The echidna scowled and chased after him. Iota ran, firing anything he could get his hands on at him. The ghost kept following, throwing punches that barely missed and caused massive damage to whatever they did hit.

“Enough!” The echidna jumped up and began flying, fists out, and that forced Iota to pause as Tactical reevaluated the situation. This allowed the ghost to latch onto him and pull a fist back to punch.

“Panic!” Iota returned to the forefront of his mind, pushing the idling Tactical away. The grenade launcher folded away, and one of Humi’s additions slid into place instead: a pair of electrified steel coils. “Zap!”

“Zap?”

Zzzzzpt!

The echidna was blasted away as his muscles spasmed, forcing him to throw himself off the robot.

Analytics: …Hey, wait a second.

Tactical: No time, here he comes.

Thoroughly enraged by pain and frustration, the echidna had barely hit the ground before he was back on his feet, quills standing on end from the electrostatic force acting on him, and rushed back to attack.

Analytics: This echidna is obeying the laws of physics an awful lot for a ghost.

Iota met his punch with one of his own, using the taser coils as boxing gloves. The echidna, expecting it now, was able to withstand the shock better, so Iota decided to do something drastic. One of his tasers folded back and his right hand reformed. He pulled his own arm back as much as possible, about thirty feet or so, using as much leverage as possible to prepare this attack.

The echidna, seeing what he was doing, jumped back and chambered an attack of his own.

“Grim: I will not fall.”

“No tin can’s going to beat me!”

They struck, each intending a finishing blow.

Their fists both struck the palms of yellow gloves, and a small shockwave flattened the grass around them. A weathered headstone fell over, and crows cawed in the distance, taking off.

Big stood between them, looking sleepy and grumpy. “Stop fighting.”

“Big?” Iota pulled his hand away, taking note of the slight indentation on the metal now and filing a repair request for later.

“You again?” the echidna said, sounding equally surprised. He fell to the ground, and Big shook his hand out, sore.

Iota received an emotive packet for that. It felt like a pout, seeing him get damaged by Big stopping him, only for Big to be the one hurt by the echidna’s attack.

“What’s the big idea?” the ghost shouted. “That’s one of Eggman’s robots, and it’s got an Emerald!”

Big looked at Iota, then back at him. “No?” He put a hand on Iota’s shoulder. “This is my buddy.”

“Warning: Do not try to reason with it, Big. The spirits of this place are hostile, and unlikely to be reasoned with.”

“I’m not a ghost!” the echidna protested. “What is going on?!”

Analytics: …

“...Embarrassed: I did think it was odd that a spirit would be affected by electrical discharge.”

“Tails and Humi built him,” Big said, trying to explain. “They put a square rock inside him to make him work.”

The echidna scowled. “No, cat, the Chaos Emeralds are round.”

Iota opened his access panel and reached inside.

Diagnostics: Warning! Energy falling rapidly!

Iota held his battery out for inspection. “Observe: an artificial emerald created by Mister Prower and Miss Humi to power me and my brother, Gamma.”

The echidna looked it over with a disturbed expression. “...I don’t like that. Now that I can see it, it’s… off. Hollow, almost…” He sighed. “But I guess there’s nothing wrong with it…” He folded his arms. “I guess I jumped the gun. Sorry.”

Big smiled. “Good. We’re all friends now, right?”

“Right.” He grunted, then held out his hand. “I’m Knuckles.”

“...”

“Hello?”

Iota keeled over backwards, unpowered. Quick angling by Big prevented the battery from bouncing off the edge of the cliff.

They quickly placed it back in his chest cavity, and the goodnik turned back on.

“I am Y-Iota. A pleasure to meet you, and apologies for the misunderstanding.”

“What does the Y stand for?” Knuckles asked.

“Admission: I don’t know. It is a pun.”

“I don’t get it.”

Iota began considering how to explain it, until he saw Big wandering away. “Leaving so soon?”

“I still need to find Froggy. Who knows where he got while I was sleeping?”

“I need to go too,” Knuckles said. “I’ve found the Master Emerald shards here, I need to move on before that bat girl gets to them.”

Iota’s optics shuttered. There were several concerning things implied by that statement. “Request for clarification.”

Knuckles grunted. “Hmph. So there was this annoying bat who tried to steal the Master Emerald…”

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

[Heyu]

“...And then Eggman appeared with a black-and-red hedgehog and a bat with too much makeup on, and that was when I saw you on the security cameras.”

I shook my head, amazed. “You’ve been busy, packrat.”

We were camped out in Robotnik’s computer room, having a small and modest meal. I always carried some granola on me these days, and I was currently chewing on some baby carrots. Humi had taken a box of raisins, and we both had a bottle of water. If only we knew where the kitchen in this place was, since I didn’t believe for a second that Robotnik wouldn’t include a full commissary in one of his bases. The man didn’t seem like someone who’d settle for simple meals. Or simple anything, really.

“Can I show you the Y-Nought?” she asked, already pulling parts out of her pocket. I didn’t bother giving a response, simply watching with raised eyebrows as she reconstructed a crude device with two legs attached to a seat and far too many guns. Once it was complete, she threw herself into the cockpit and it came to life with a terrifying rattle that threatened to shake the entire thing apart. And yet, aside from a small plate-sized panel of armor falling off with a clatter, it held. “What do you think?”

“...Very dangerous-looking,” I said, stifling a yawn. I felt like I needed a tetanus shot just looking at it. The cockpit looked like a G.U.N. Rhino’s shell crudely pounded into shape, there was an orb with painted eyes on the back behind her chair, and legs that looked like it came from five different types of machine. “Eclectic.”

“Thanks!” She beamed. “I destroyed so many robots on the way in, I lost count after a hundred!” The orb on the back of the cockpit shuddered and a few spiky balls started orbiting around it. Humi pulled a lighter out of her pocket and held it against the orb, which instantly caught fire.

I blinked blearily and felt my pouches. “...When did I give you that back?”

“You didn’t,” Humi said blithely.

“Alright, fair enough.”

Humi paused and frowned at me. “...Are you okay? You sound weird. And your eyes have big bags under them.”

“I’ve been awake for nearly…” I looked at my wrist. “...twenty-six hours now.”

“You aren’t wearing a watch.”

“It’s a joke, Humi,” I said, shouting. “You missed it! I can’t believe it…”

She turned the Y-Nought off and hopped down, looking concerned. “Maybe you should take a nap.”

“I should, but I don’t think I’m going to get to,” I said, looking at the glowing pad on the floor next to us. “...I think… we’ve got a few hours before Shadow gets back.”

“Who’s Shadow?”

“The black and red hedgehog,” I explained. “I ran into him yesterday, and he had an Emerald. I don’t remember most of what I saw, but--what’s with that look?”

“His name is Shadow?” She threw her head back and groaned loudly. “Gaia, he’s so lame!”

I snickered at that, then stood with a grunt. I frowned at the pad. “I don’t suppose you know where this thing goes?”

Humi shook her head. “Eggman said it went to space, but that could mean anything.”

I tilted my head. “Space, as in--”

“Wait no I remember!” Humi bounced in place. “It was last night, before I fell asleep! Eggman got an email or something and mentioned something called the ark.”

I froze. “The ARK?”

“Yeah. Do you know what it is?”

“Yes. Yes, I do.” I gave the pad a wide-eyed look, some of the tiredness fleeing my body. “Fifty years ago and then some, the ARK was an artificial satellite built as an orbital colony able to house thousands of people permanently. It was the product of dozens of the world’s greatest minds working together on a single project; artificial gravity, perfectly recycled air and water, even methods for growing their own food.” I shook my head, amazed. “I grew up a little obsessed with space, and I was always so sad that the ARK project got scuttled before I was born.”

Humi looked just as amazed as I had been the first time I heard about the ARK, right up until I said the last bit. “What? But why, what happened?”

“No one knows.” I shrugged. “Experiment gone wrong, hull breaches into the vacuum, unforeseen side effects of living in space… there’s all kinds of stories, but none of them agree with each other. At least one article I read said that a monster got loose and killed everyone, and that one actually had more than one source, so who knows?”

We stared at the teleport pad in silence for a long moment.

Humi started vibrating. “We’re going up there, right?”

“Heck yeah we are,” I agreed, grinning. “I’d like to think you’d have mentioned it if Robotnik was wearing a spacesuit, so it’s gotta be safe up there.”

“WOO!”