Well, I know double posting isn't great, but I like to think that in carnie isle, the rules of posting take second place to artistic vision, at least in the case of due seperation for chapters. And if I'm wrong, may Becca strike me down with her spork of justice!

Here is the second chapter, this is where the story truely begins, and the massive divergance shows. Please post any comments, flames, criticisms, and complaints about me accidentally impregnating you here =)

Please?

-
The Cohort Saga, Part I-Slave no More
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Chapter II-Slaves
-

Carmen Alabaster snapped open her eyes and looked toward the still dark sky above her bunk through the hole in the roof of her hut. Best part of the day, she sighed quietly to herself. Solitude, peace and darkness. Shame it doesnt last She mused, her pink eyes seemingly glowing. 321

04:00 hours. Slave units, arise! Droned a tinny voice from outside the hut.

Carmen groaned and rose with the rest of the slaves in the hut, smoothing down her albino fur and her long white hair. Heading toward the door with the long file of other voluntarily impaired workers. She knew the penalty for tardiness, as did all the other workers.

04:05 hours. Slave units, commence hygiene preparations! Droned the voice, coming from a robot that looked somewhat like a floating dustbin.

The line of slaves trudged into an open area with rusted showerheads coming out of the ground. The slaves removed their sack-like garments and tossed them to the side as water of dubious purity began to splutter out of the showers. There were no screens between the showers, no privacy for slaves. Even though it was considered perfectly acceptable for a mobian to be naked, letting only their fur warm and hide their bodies, washing was generally thought of as personal. Carmen washed any mud out of her fur and checked herself for the fleas and ticks that plagued the work camp slaves, and then stood under the shower, simply letting the water saturate her fur. 321 she counted down, her eyes closed, opening them at the exact moment that the water stopped flowing. So predictable. She sighed as she picked up what could with a little imagination be called clothes, but with less imagination could be called potato sacks, and threw them over herself.

04:08 hours. Slave units commence work. No slacking upon the penalty of pain. Droned out the robot.

Sighing heavily, Carmen headed toward a mineshaft located to the left of her, her duty today being that of placing the supports behind the miners. Coal dust and white fur do not mix. She muttered glumly, stopping when she was just out of site of the overseer robot. Taking out a small collapsible canteen she had secreted away inside the lining of her clothes, Carmen wrung out her still wet fur into the canteen. It wasnt much, but it was all the water she would get until noon. As she hid her canteen away, her albino pink eyes flashed slightly. Looking over her shoulder at the surrounding woods, she hurried forward, not willing to be tardy.

-

Hidden away in the woods, Crimson Darkwolfe growled to himself, he had been scouting the work camp for weeks now, and he knew there was no way he had been spotted. He wasnt big headed; it was just that he had been taught by the best. But that last female, the albino ferret, she knew. He couldnt understand how, but she knew he was there. He just hoped that she wouldnt reveal him. For her sake.

-

12:00 hours. Slave units, report for nutritional requirements. The robot announced, though not one of the workers needed this tin can to tell them these things. They had all been slaving so long that the days schedule was ingrained into their very dreams.

Carmen trudged toward the Nutrition Distribution Center where she was handed a bowl of what was could be described as tar, but was known as Nernuf, Nourishment Replacing Non-Newtonian Fluid, all the body needs, but nothing a person wants. She sat at an inevitably crowded table, trying as hard as possible to leave a gap between herself and those around her. She took her spoon and pushed it slowly into the Nernuf, knowing that any excessive force would give the gloopy substance temporarily solid properties, and lifted the spoon to her mouth, paused for a moment, and then ducked slightly to the left as a burly rat barged past, nearly elbowing her in the head. The rat sat beside her as she consumed the chewy goop.

So whats the authority had your pretty ass slaving away at today whitey? He grunted obviously not interested Carmens thoughts.

Carmen simply ignored him and continued to eat her Nernuf.

Dont you ignore me Carmen, I asked you a question! Anger mounting in his voice.

I have been in the Bauxite mines all morning if you really need to know, Derek. Carmen replied, deciding to appease his anger.

Tchah, I like that, all day in a dirty hole, and still your fur is the beautiful white it always is. The large rat sneered.

Carmens fur bristled, she knew what was going to happen next, but she also knew that she had to simply ride it out, trying to stop him would only incur the wrath of the overseers.

Derek shuffled closer to Carmen, his sweating bulk almost touching her now. He grinned at her and started stoking his hand down her tail. You know you want this Alabaster, he grinned as she tried to ignore him in disgust.

Derek pressed his face closer Come on snowy, just one little ki 12:15 hours. Slave units return to work. Blared the `bot.

Damn! Ah well, back to the grindstone. Derek exclaimed as he sauntered off.

Saved by the bell. Carmen muttered as she returned to her post, making sure to fill her canteen with the excess Nernuf from her bowl. As if there was any doubt.

-

Crimson Darkwolfe was hungry; he hadnt eaten for two days now. The slaves at least were fed, but watching them he had depleted his rations. Not surprising as he had been watching them for almost twice as long now as planned. But he didnt let his hunger pangs distract him, he was better than that.

-

22:00 hours. Slave units commence recharge. The robot barked out clinically. By recharge it meant sleep, all the slaves knew that, and were glad of it, they only got six hours of sleep on the best of days, so where always relieved when the time to sleep came.

The Slaves trudged into the hut that served as their sleeping quarters and collapsed into their respective beds. The beds were little more than some leaves and hay tossed into pile, but when you were as tired as the slaves, that did not matter. Carmen lay back upon her bed and closed her eyes.

Hey Alabaster, I never got that kiss. Complained a gruff voice. She opened her eyes to see Derek standing over her. She let out a gasp and backed up against the wall. And I always get what I want he said menacingly, advancing upon her, until she was pressed against the wall. With a look of sadistic joy in his eyes he reached forward and grabbed the rags covering her upper body. She strained against his tugging at her top until it ripped at the shoulder. Derek stood there with her top in his hand, grinning maliciously.

Carmen had had enough, she cared not for the consequences any more, and they had to be better than this pig. She drew her gloved paw back into a fist, and punched Derek hard on the nose. He reeled backwards, his nose bloody and looked up at Carmen with rage in his heart. She looked down at him in contempt as he drew up to his full height, though twice her width, he was only half as tall as she was.

You cannot fight me Derek, stop this now.

At this Derek roared with anger and lunged at the tall ferrets abdomen, but when he reached her, she was no longer there. She was beside him, bringing her footpaw up in a vicious kick to his face. Derek practically span on the spot, and fell on the floor.

The other slaves in the hut were all watching now. They were pretending they were not, as being awake after lights out was a punishable offence.

Carmen jumped as Derek lashed out with his long bald tail and stepped sideways as she landed to avoid the powerful uppercut that Derek aimed at her face, and then bought up her knee, just as he jumped forward. The result was a noise that made all the males in the hut shudder as Derek fell to the floor, his eyes crossed.

Suddenly Carmen looked up at the doors, and they flew off their hinges. In stepped three of the overseer robots. Slave units Alabaster and Tristram! All after hour activities are prohibited! All fighting is prohibited! You are both under arrest in the name of the great overlord Robotnik! You will be executed at dawn tomorrow!

Carmen dropped her head and stood still as the robots placed magnetic cuffs on her forepaws, she could quite easily have escaped, but she had seen from experience what this would mean for the other slaves. As the overseers approached Derek, he stood up with a look of absolute fear in his eyes. He backed against a wall, panicking, looking for a way out. Slave unit Tristram, surrender now, or we will use force. Droned out the Overseer nearest to him. To this Derek replied by attempting to run through the center of the two `bots in front of him. As soon as he tried this, short rods shot out of their sides and jabbed into his ribs. There was a loud scream, the crackle of electricity, and the smell of singed fur, as Derek collapsed to the floor, unconscious. One of the overseers lifted him up and they floated out of the hut in a straight line, Carmen in tow.

Inside the hut used to store the condemned, Carmen sat and thought of her future. She opened up her mind to the probabilities facing her, and came to the conclusion that in all likelihood, she was going to die. She stood and looked out of the open window, neither the door or the window were locked, but Derek or Carmen could not leave the hut if they tried, due to electronic sensors within their cuffs. As she gazed out, she seemed to be looking for something. She knew someone had been watching the camp for the past three weeks, but whoever it was had to be a master of camouflage, because nobody had even caught the merest glimpse of them. She had tried to find out more, but whoever it was happened to be too good for even her skills. She sighed and opened up her mind to the probabilities facing her again, and nothing short of a miracle could save her now.

-

Crimson scratched his muzzle, stood up, turned round and saluted. Good evening Killian sir. He said, almost inaudibly. The tall dark red wolf appeared to be saluting a patch of woodland.

Good evening Crimson. Replied the patch of woodland, sounding almost surprised, as a shorter gray wolf with a patch over his left eye emerged. What do you have to report?

The work camp appears to consist entirely of mining operations, sir. The daily routine is the same each day, rise at 4, shower at 5 past, work till noon, and eat a bowl of Nernuf, then work till 10 and go to sleep.

Any reason for a strike? Inquired the older looking wolf.

Other than freeing the slaves? Well the mines transport a large amount of aluminium and iron ores to Mech Hill. Answered Crimson. There is a shipment being taken tomorrow morning, so we should strike then.

Yes. Anything else?

One more thing, sir. An albino ferret and a rat are to be executed tomorrow morning, the rat is nothing more than an average slave, but the ferret would be a valuable asset to the group. If we attempted a rescue at the same time that we attacked the transport caravan, I feel that we could easily save them both.

Hmmm. Well I trust your judgment on this matter, Crimson. I shall lead an attack on the ore transport, you take care of the condemned. He said, handing Crimson a pack of supplies. Before vanishing back into the woods.

Crimson returned to his vigil taking a bite out of a piece of dried meat.

Oh and Crimson. Dont prove my trust wrong. Said Killians voice from the woods.

Crimson was a bit stunned; he hadnt even heard him coming that time.

-TBC

Heres chapter three. Not like anyone is even reading this =(
Honestly, I work and slave over a hot keyboard and blahblahblah...

-
The Cohort Saga, Part I - Slave no More
-
Chapter III - Revolutionaries
-

04:00 hours. Condemned units, arise! Blared the voice of the guard outside their hut. The guard looked exactly the same as the overseers, excepting that its head section was painted black, and it had an array of weapons adorning its right arm.

Carmen and Derek stood up and were frog-marched out of the hut to the Nutrition Distribution Center, where their cuffs were magnetically activated, securing them to the wall by their wrists. As the slaves were escorted into the room and seated, Derek started to blubber like a baby. Carmen glanced over in disgust at his lack of dignity and rolled her eyes.

Condemned Units Alabaster and Tristram, you have been found guilty of crimes against the rule of Lord Robotnik. How do you plead? Asked the guard robot.

Derek started to plead his innocence, making more and more ludicrous excuses until he simply gave up and hung his head, sobbing under his breath.

Unit Alabaster, how do you plead?

Carmen looked at the robot, then said in a strong and clear voice; Up yours tin man, may Robotnik rot in hell!

At this the slaves cheered, and went silent as the guard stared at them. Carmen smiled, if she had to go out, she was going out in style.

Unit Alabaster, for contempt of Robotnik, your trial shall be null and void. You are sentenced to death by fire. Unit Tristram, please allow for processing of evidence. The guard robots eyes began to flicker orange and green. Unit Tristram, you have been found guilty of the accused crimes, and are hereby sentenced to death by fire, have a nice day.

As the robots right arm rotated found to reveal a flame throwing device, Derek began to scream and struggle against his bonds. The guard hovered closer, and Carmen simply stared into its eyes. May Robotnik have mercy on your soul. It said, as the flamethrower warmed up.

Just before the robot could fire, an explosion rocked the woods to the left. What was? The guard began, when a small silver sphere landed in front of it. Processing It began, but the sphere emitted a blinding flash of light and a cover screen of dense smoke.

Carmen closed her eyes just before the flash, but when she opened them she found that she still couldnt see through the fog. She could hear the voice of the guard attempting to apply logic to the situation. Visual overload, switching to motion sensooorrrrssss-bbzzztttkzz There was a metallic crash, sounding like the guard had fallen to the floor, and then she began to move, being dragged along by her cuffs.

She could still not make out what was happening through the smoke, but she appeared to be being dragged into the woods. As she left the smoky area, she noticed that Derek was also being dragged along, but he appeared to have fainted from fear. They were also slowing down, until gradually, they stopped.

Carmen looked up, to see exactly who had saved them. Before them was a tall, powerfully built wolf with long hair and very deep red fur excepting around his muzzle and his stomach, and under his tail, which were a cream colour. In one hand he was holding what looked like a large pole, with sword blades on either end, one end shorter and less ornate then the other. In his other hand he appeared to be holding the arm of the guard, it was with this that he was dragging Carmen and Derek magnetically. The wolf dropped the arm, turned to face the ex-slaves, and gave Derek a kick in the ribs.

What, huh, who? Derek enquired, Am I dead?

The red wolf smirked slightly, exposing the elongated canines that were a mark of his species. He raised his weapon high above his head, and brought down one of the points toward Dereks screaming form. There was a metallic chunk, and Dereks cuffs snapped open. Derek opened his eyes, and saw that his wrists were free; he looked up toward his rescuer.

Get up. Said the wolf, You are free, go now.

Needing no more hints, the rat ran away as fast as his paws and his girth would allow.

The wolf the turned to Carmen, and unlocked her own cuffs with his weapon, then held out his paw to help her up. Allow me to apologize for the bumpy ride miss, my name is Crimson Darkwolfe. May I ask your name?

My name is Carmen Alabaster, she replied, excepting his help getting to her hind paws. Not that I wish to sound ungrateful, but can I go now, like you let Derek go?

Not yet miss Alabaster, I want you to meet some friends of mine, follow me please.

Wait, I want to know more before we go anywhere. She said. Where did you come from? Who are your friends?

I cannot divulge that information at this time miss Alabaster. Replied the wolf, beginning to walk of into the darkness.

Thats not good enough! She barked, getting annoyed. She had never been left in the dark by someone in her life, and wasnt about to start now. Her pink eyes seemed to glaze over. Crimson grimaced for a moment, then turned to face her.

He bared his teeth in a growl, Understand this now, Carmen. His red eyes boring into her own. If you ever try to enter my mind again, I will not hesitate to kill you. That said he vanished into the woodlands.

Carmen was flabbergasted, in all the time that she had known of her telepathy, not even one person had been able to resist her. But this wolf had not only denied her access to his mind completely, he did it with such apparent ease that he had not even broken a sweat. She was intrigued by this Crimson Darkwolfe, so decided to follow him.

-

After some time walking, Crimson and Carmen came to a clearing. Crimson looked toward the sun, then sat down and removed a piece of bread from the small provisions pouch around his waist. Breaking the bread in two, he motioned for Carmen to sit with him and eat some of the bread. Surviving solely on Nernuf for the past 16 years, she was eager to eat some real food, but was not willing to show that eagerness in front of a stranger. She walked slowly over to him and graciously accepted some of the bread, with a small Thank you, then walked to the opposite edge of the clearing from where he was seated, rested upon a log, and demurely ate the bread.

Crimson finished his own piece of bread, then looked to the sky again. If I were you miss Alabaster, I would not sit there. He said, without looking down.

Carmen looked at him quizzically, and then closed her eyes. I believe you might be correct, and if you persist in calling me miss Alabaster, I shall not be best pleased, Mr. Darkwolfe. Saying this she stood up, shuffled approximately one meter to the left, and sat down again.

Crimson looked over at her, nodded, and then returned to his sky watching.

Several awkward minutes passed, with neither one speaking a word, until the silence was broken by a grinning ginger tomcat striding through the bushes, and tripping over the exact spot on the log where Carmen was previously seated.

Vicktor, you are such a klutz. Moaned a female voice from the bushes. Why is it that you trip over every log in the forest? We are meant to be stealthy.

This from Little Miss Kablooie?! said the tomcat, picking himself up of the floor. Good morning Crimson, not seen you around for a while, been burying a bone?

Carmen looked at the cat from head to hind paw, he appeared not to have noticed her yet. The tom was of medium height, and of a wiry build. His gray head fur was cropped into a spiky crew cut, with a short ponytail at the back of his head. Each ear was adorned with multiple studs and hoops, and his left ear had a bite missing from it. He was wearing a green vest, ripped black jeans and large black jump boots, with bands of bullets crossing over his chest. On his back attached to the bands appeared to be two swords. Around his waist was a dual holster belt, with large silver pistols placed in the holsters, and a series of hand-grenades hanging of it. Though none of these things were particularly common among mobian culture, there was something even more odd about this cat that Carmen could quite put her paw on.

Leave it Vicktor, hes been working hard and you know it. Said a female chipmunk, stepping over the log. The chipmunk walked past Carmen, not even noticing her, and shook her long blonde hair. Nice work on recon, Crimson

Crimson simply nodded.

Are you not going to introduce us then, Crimson? A third voice questioned, as a small, slightly old looking gray wolf stepped out of the woodland and gestured toward Carmen.

Crimson nodded and stood up. This is Carmen Alabaster, an ex-slave of the work camp.

The cat and the chipmunk turned round and noticed Carmen for the first time, a little shocked.

My name is Arabella Demagogic, explosives expert. Said the chipmunk offering her paw, Carmen took it and took a good look at Arabella. She was of medium height and reasonably slim, wearing what looked like a dark green jumpsuit. The jumpsuit was adorned with a variety of incendiary devices and detonating wires. Her soft facial features were almost completely hidden by her hair, which came down to her waist and was blonde excepting for a black and white streak that ran down the center.

And I am Vicktor el Diablo, pirate extraordinaire, at you service. Said the cat, bowing.

You are not, Vicktor! seethed the chipmunk hitting him around the back of the head. You were a money grabbing gun-runner, hardly Pirate extraordinaire, and you dont have a surname so dont make up such ridiculous ones.

Pay not attention to her, miss Alabaster. Said Vicktor, taking her paw. Now she realized what was so odd about him. He didnt wear any gloves. Showing ones paws in public was considered extremely bad etiquette among mobians; nobody knew why any more, but the tradition was one of the only things they had left from before Robotniks rule. Carmen looked at his paws and frowned, but he paid no attention. She is simply jealous.

Of what? A mangy, bad-mannered, ugly old fleabag? retorted Arabella.

Old? At least I dont dye my fur! Vicktor hissed, turning on the chipmunk.

Why you absolute screamed Arabella, lunging at him.

While the two bickered, the gray wolf turned to face Carmen.

I am Killian Graylocke, leader of the Cohort of the Blue Blur. He offered his paw. Carmen looked at him, he appeared a little old to be leader of a Cohort, but the way he carried himself made him seem immortal. One eye was covered with a black eye patch, but the other was such a piercing blue that Carmen found herself hypnotized by it. Crimson mentioned that you might be an asset to our group, perhaps you could tell me why.

I can see why from here. Vicktor said, a grin on his face. Upon this comment Arabella hit him again.

I dont Carmen began, but then looked at Killian. She could not hold anything back against the piercing blue of that eye. I have certainabilities. She settled on.

Describe these abilities. Killian ordered her.

I am a telepath, she replied. I can communicate with others using only my mind, and see what they are thinking. She paused a moment, looking into that blue eye. I can also see possible futures, and tell which is more likely to happen.

I see. Said Killian, raising his head. I am going to make you an offer, Carmen. You are now free of slavery, so you can run now, and attempt to make your own we in the world. Or you can join us, and strike back against Robotniks tyranny.

Carmen looked around at the gathered revolutionaries. Hoping for any kind of hint as to whether or not she would fit in. Vicktor was rubbing his head, and his thoughts were of no help, they were all about money. Arabella was fiddling with a piece of wire and absent-mindedly reciting the formulae of explosives in her head. Crimson was just standing, gazing at her with a look of stoicism upon his face; his mind would be shielded to her, even if she tried to read it. Killian was also just standing still. But his thoughts were so complex, that just glimpsing them gave her a headache. Finally she reached a decision on her own.

I will join you, Mr. Graylocke. She said.

Good he smiled, exposing his long canines. Lets go home. The cohort began to move off through the woods, but then a thought struck Carmen.

Wait. She said, what about the other slaves? When the guards realize that me and Derek are missing, they will kill twice as many as an example.

No, Killian replied, a sly grin on his face. They wont.

~TBC

-
The Cohort Saga, Part I - Slave no More
-
Chapter IV - The Cohort
-

The Mystic Cave Zone is an expansive place. It is also very easy to get lost in. It comprises of miles upon miles of winding interlaced caverns, all almost completely covered in a mysterious ivy-like plant that even decades of pollution have failed to remove. The ivy just made navigation even more difficult, as it shrouded entrances to tunnels and pitfalls all across the zone. All in all it made the perfect hiding place for the Cohort, even though Robotnik had his slave camps and guard stations near the outside, he had no hope of penetrating the depths of the caves.

Carmen, Vicktor, Crimson, Arabella and Killian had been walking for hours, taking so many odd twists and turns that not even Carmen could keep track of where they were. They had come upon a long cavern, even more inundated with Ivy than the rest of mystic cave. At the opposite end of the cavern sat an unfeasibly large brown bear, almost a head taller than Carmen, and wider then anyone she had ever seen. He appeared to be watching them approach with a contented look on his face.

There sits Dekker Oak, master of stealth. Vicktor muttered sarcastically.

A small voice piped up from behind them. He doesnt need stealth, hes got me.

The group turned to face the voice, then looked down in unison. Behind them was a short black ant, approximately ankle height, but holding a full sized gun aimed at them. He peered past the gun to get a better look at whom he was aiming at. Oh its just you guys, welcome home. He moved the gun slightly, and Carmen noticed it was now trained upon her. The ant waved one of his four arms at the big bear, who stood up and began to amble over to them. So who is this? he asked pointing toward Carmen.

This, Black, is Carmen Alabaster, soon to be a member of the cohort. Said Killian.

Okay then. Black lowered the gun, and handed it to Dekker. I am Black Gamma Tau Male 31200647. But you may call me Black. He gestured toward the bear, This is my associate Dekker Oak. The bear nodded and smiled. He says hello.

They proceeded toward the wall that Dekker had been sitting against. Crimson, if you would do the honors. Killian said, motioning toward the wall. Crimson stepped forward, and lifted one arm. On the underside of his wrist, something glowed momentarily, it looked to Carmen like a tattoo, but she could have sworn that he hadnt had one before. The wall parted before her eyes to reveal a passageway lit with soft electric lamps. Crimson walked off down the corridor ahead of them, followed by Vicktor and Arabella.

Keep up the guard guys. Killian said to Black and Dekker. Ill send Vicktor to relieve you around lunchtime. The two nodded, and Killian turned to Carmen. Ladies first Carmen. He said, gesturing toward the passage.

Carmen walked down the passage for some time, until finally she came to a brightly lit cave, adorned with tools, weaponry, furniture and, bizarrely, flowers. Welcome to the hideout, Carmen. Said Killian, emerging from the tunnel behind her. Gizmo! he shouted toward a side cave, You can stop the signal interference now.

Right you are boss! A voice replied from the cave. There was a sound of electricity powering down, and a small meerkat wandered out. He was about a head shorter then Killian, but looked as tall as him due to his orangey yellow hair, which he wore up in an almost perfect cylinder, secured by a blue bandana round the top of his head. Over the bandana he wore a pair of darkened goggles, his fur was the same orangey yellow as his hair, but with brown stripes over his body, around his mouth and on his stomach his fur was a cream colour. His cheek and chin fur appeared to be bunched together and tied off with elastic bands. He was wearing an unbuttoned shirt and a bandanna round his neck both of identical blue to the one on his head, around his waist was a tool belt, with various spanners and screwdrivers and other assorted devices protruding from it. He spotted Carmen and raised his eyebrows. This a new recruit boss?

Yes. Said Killian, almost deadpan, making himself a hot beverage. Gizmo, this is Carmen Alabaster, Carmen, this is Gizmo, our mechanic.

Nice to meet you, Carmen. Said Gizmo, extending his left arm, Carmen looked at the arm and was shocked, it was completely mechanical. He frowned for a second, wondering why Carmen was hesitating, then held up his mechanized arm. Dont worry about this, perfectly harmless prosthetic. Carmen was still a bit stunned, but it would have been rude to refuse the little mechanics handshake. He shook her paw vigorously, and she could feel the cold hard metal through her gloves. No matter what he said, after being around robots for so long, it was still creepy.

You from the work camp then? questioned Gizmo, unreasonably cheerful for the topic at hand in Carmens opinion. She nodded. Ah, then youll wanna see the signal interference runner! Gizmo grabbed Carmens arm and literally dragged her toward the side cave. The other members of the Cohort all roll their eyes at this, smiling slightly.

-

Now you see, you cant run normal signal interference within the caves, because, well they are caves. Gizmo was droning in the mistaken belief that Carmen was listening to him. But what the Signal Interference Runner here does is boost its signal through the Silicates in the rocks turning the caves into a giant electromagnetic signal generator. Now normally silicones not a very good conductor but Carmen tried reading his mind to relieve the boredom. I wonder if I could adapt this to work for other purposes, like generating electromagnetic pulses No use, his mind was as boring as his machines. Saving the lives of your ex-companions. He finished.

Carmen nodded, then her mind caught up with her. Hang on, what was that last bit?

Neo-magnetic-chaos induction?

No, about saving the slaves.

Oh, well its just a case of broadcasting an alls-well message to the Generals base, and making sure that the overseer robots receive orders not to kill anyone.

Oh, so no-one will die then?

Not likely, no.

Well thats good.

Yes.

-

Back in the main hall, Vicktor, Arabella, Crimson and Killian were seated round a circular table, each with a cup of hot coffee in their paws. God only knows where Vicktor had managed to get hold of the coffee, but he had one day brought a vast supply, enough to last at least three years. And they were grateful for it.

So how do we feel about the new recruit then? Vicktor asked.

She seems trustworthy. Arabella said

But can she be of any use? Inquired Vicktor

She is a telepath and a seer, she can see what someone is going to do before they do it. I witnessed her use this very skill in a fight against a strong fighter. She will be of use. Crimson answered.

Anyway, she has seen our HQ, we cant exactly let her go now. Arabella said.

We could kill her. Crimson suggested. Vicktor and Arabella looked at him in disbelief, Killian sipped his drink.

That will probably not be necessary, as I feel that she will fit in just fine. He said.

Crimson looked a little relieved, and nodded. Vicktor also nodded in turn.

What about Black, Dekker and Gizmo, dont they need to vote? Arabella asked.

Yes, Killian confirmed, but we only need four to gain a majority.

Arabella thought for a moment, then nodded also.

Then we have a majority. Vicktor said. Shes in.

Whos in? Carmen asked, entering the room.

Carmen, as the leader, I would officially like to welcome you to the Cohort of the Blue Blur. Killian said, standing. Heres the deal, you follow my orders. You think something needs doing, you ask me. We work in secret, you give yourself away, and Robotniks forces will kill you. You give any of us away, and I will kill you. Do you understand? Carmen nodded. Then give me your arm. He placed he forepaws together over her wrist, and concentrated hard. There was a sharp pain in Carmens wrist, and the smell of burning tin in the air. When he removed his paws, there was a tattoo on her wrist, a blue circle, with two smeared blue points trailing from it. As soon as she looked at it, the tattoo began to fade. That sigil marks you as one of us. When outside of HQ, if you concentrate on it, it will lead you back here. The magic within the mark responds to its surroundings, if you are captured, the sigil will not show. He sat down again. Do you have any questions?

Just one, she replied, what does this symbol mean?

Killian stared upwards for a moment, and started to rub the base of his spine, near his tail. That symbol? he said, his voice distant, It means hope

-End of Part I

And let the second part, BEGIN!

-
The Cohort Saga, Part II - The Responsibility of Freedom
-
Chapter I - Knowledge
-

Carmen Alabaster sighed wistfully, raising her pink eyes to the stars. It had been six weeks now since the Cohort had rescued her, and although they had all been very kind, she did not yet feel they had fully accepted her. Folding her long body in half, Carmen sat down with her back against the ivy-covered wall that disguised the entrance to the Cohorts HQ, and rested the nozzle of the sub-machine gun that she had been issued with against the floor, confident that she would know if anyone was approaching. At least the Cohort gave her the privacy that she enjoyed, her previous accommodation and profession had not exactly held the same benefits.

Carmen was an ex-slave. She had spent the first 4 years of her life in a Futures Security Center, or as they were more colloquially known, a Slave Farm. These bleak citadels littered the area once called Green Hill Zone, now re-designated Mech Hill under the rule of Robotnik, designed for the sole purpose of converting generations of people into mindless slaves, taking them birth and raising them under a muted surrogate mother. The children would be force fed propaganda about the glorious benefactor Lord Robotnik. And for the most part, the farms worked, churning out slave after slave with next-to-no free will and desiring only to further Robotniks greatness. Carmen was different. Carmen was a telepath; she did not need the surrogate mother to be able to speak to understand that the words of the Center were all lies.

When she left the center to begin working in the deep mines of Hill Top Zone, she was only 4 years old, but was so full of bile and hate toward Robotnik, that it made her strong. She knew not to make herself obvious to the overseers from her surrogate mothers thoughts, but alone at night, she honed her powers. By the age of 9, she could easily project her thoughts into the minds of others, and convince them that they had only been dreams. She could even direct the thoughts of the week minded without even alerting them to her presence in her mind. When she was 11 years of age, she was relocated to work with the adult voluntarily impaired workforce in the larger mines. Here Carmen discovered her family, her natural family. Her mother and farther did not, of course, recognize her, but the haggard looking pair of ferrets knew that they were the parents of an albino daughter, the exact same birth date as her.

Over the next 4 years, she learned about her parents, and herself. Her parents were not born slaves, they were born in a peaceful village, but had been drafted into the workforce when the death rate of slaves was running too high. When they found that they were going to be parents, Alicia and Elbert Ferret were overjoyed with the prospect of bringing Carmen into the world, but joy turned to despair when their baby was taken from them. All this knew information was simultaneously pleasant and painful for Carmen to find out, Robotnik had hurt her more than she had realized, but on the other hand, she had a name. She never had a name before, but now she knew who Robotnik had to fear, he had to fear Carmen Alabaster (she gave herself this surname in deference to her surrogate mother, who only thought about her charges in descriptive form.)

Staring intensely at the sky now, as if daring the stars to come down from their safe haven, and make everything change for the better. Tears were beginning to well up in her eyes and drip down her pale fur onto her knew clothes. Gizmo, the meerkat mechanic of the Cohort, had made them for her. He didnt even have to ask her size or the style of clothes she wanted, he just made them, and they were perfect. A black sleeveless top and a black skirt, cut down the side for function, not fashion. A freedom fighter needed to move after all. When she asked him about it, he simply replied Its a gift. And turned back to his machines. Machines, machines are the cause of this all she said, halfway between a growl and a sob.

Machines had been the tools of choice for enslaving the people of Mobius ever since Robotnik had first emerged from whatever hell he came from. Machines had caused the loss of first her parents free will, then their daughter, and finally their lives. It had happened when she was 16 years old, she had been practicing her telepathy, and she could use the powers of her mind almost flawlessly now, listening, talking, and even controlling peoples thoughts without detection. Out of a cross between boredom and intrigue she had attempted to read the mind of one of the overseer robots. Of course this proved impossible, they were completely mechanical, and did not possess a mind to read. But what Carmen did find was that she could predict the most likely actions of the robots with unfaltering accuracy, she found she wasnt just a telepath, but a seer. She could look upon the pathways of the future, the most likely happenings to come. But when she did, what she saw took her to the brink of insanity.

All that could be seen, among all possibilities, was an infinite expanse of hopelessness and despair. Robotniks realm was absolute and unchangeable, a polluted wasteland across eternity. For weeks on end Carmen had simply sat in a mineshaft, out of the way of the overseers, crying herself to sleep, to terrified to scream. It had been the final straw for her father, who had been harboring rebellion in his heart for a long time. Feeling that this new trauma to his daughter had to be the fault of Robotnik, he rose up against the robot guards in the mine, followed by many of the other workers, his wife included. They were all executed two days later. It was common practice for those in charge of the slave camps to have the family of the recently executed transferred to the most depressing work camp that came to mind, in order to quash any ideas of vengeance that they may be formulating.

Thus Carmen ended up in the bauxite mines of Mystic Cave, her spirit broken and her will fading. Over the five years that she slaved there, she never thought of her past, or of the future, she never argued with the slavers orders, and never talked with the slaves. She was alone, and that was how shed wanted it. Then the Cohort rescued her, something that even with her powers, she could not predict. Her gift of sight was telling her that she should be dead, she could only now see moments down the pathways. The Cohort was unpredictable, and that contradicted with the visions she had seen of the future. The Cohort meant that there was hope for Mobius yet.

Carmen was crying unashamedly now, but it was cathartic, she had not touched upon these memories for so long, repressing them and locking them away within her psyche. To finally go through them again, and come to terms with them, had made her feel almost happier. She looked to the sky again, her tearstained eyes almost as pink as the albino irises. Something seemed to catch her attention, and she stood briskly. The wall behind her parted, and a short, gray furred wolf with and eye-patch stepped out of the passageway that now stood were the wall once was. He was carrying a broad sword over his left shoulder.

Shifts over Carmen, The wolf, who was called Killian, said to her. Go inside and take some rest.

Carmen stood and started down the passageway.

And Carmen, he said to her, almost in a whisper, have a cup of hot chocolate, it helps. I have a supply next to the refrigerator. The wolf thrust his sword into the ground, with apparent ease, and sat cross-legged on the floor. Carmen decided that this was a signal that he was done talking, and left down the corridor.

-

Inside the main meeting cavern of the Cohort, Carmen was seated at the round conference table, warming her paws with a mug of hot chocolate. Arabella and Vicktor entered the cavern from one of its innumerable side caves, and spotted Carmen seated at the table and walked over to her. Arabella was muttering something like Finally. Under her breath. They sat either side of Carmen and looked at each other.

Looks like Killians pointed you toward his chocolate stash, Carmen. Rough day? Arabella asked. Carmen nodded miserably.

Thought so, Vicktor acknowledged. We have all been there.

There isnt a person on Mobius these days without some kind of past trauma. Arabella said. Until you got over it, you were useless to us, a liability.

Killian has a policy of letting new recruits sort out there own problems. Until that time they can explore the base, and learn about us. But no real responsibility can be given to them. Vicktor explained, leaning back on his chair. Once they have sorted out their heads, he kinda uses the hot chocolate as a signal to us.

Signal? Carmen inquired.

Yes, a signal that you are capable of handling more than the totally unnecessary guard duty.

Carmen was a little puzzled, and a tad offended, but could see why the policy stood.

Dont worry, we have all been through it, Arabella added. Except maybe Crimson.

Carmen thought about this. During her six weeks as a member of the Cohort, Crimson had barely spoken to her at all. She had never seen him display any kind of feeling or emotion, except when they had first met, and she had attempted, and failed, to enter his mind. The other members of the Cohort had all talked to her, told her how they felt, whom they were, where they came from. All except Crimson and Killian. Killian was friendly enough, but kept his past quiet. But Crimson never talked about his past at all, he never talked. This difference could be that he was the one person on Mobius, without a past trauma, and didnt want to cause envy and depression in the others with tales of his joy. Or more likely, Crimson was one very sick puppy.

Carmen finished her mug of chocolate, and began to get up.

Do you actually have any experience using that gun? Asked Vicktor, referring to the machine gun that she had been given.

No, none at all. She replied.

Vicktor smiled, Then I guess that somebody should train you then.

-

And I think, your best bet, would be to find a snow drift. Piped a small cheerful voice with a hint of sarcasm. Black was staring at a bush intently with his red eyes, all four arms crossed. Which was an achievement in itself.

Oh gee thanks. Carmen said standing up out of the bush where she was previously camouflaged. She looked at the ant and decided either to laugh, or squash him. Deciding it would only cause trouble for her if she attempted to squash him. She laughed.

Come on shorty, lets get back to HQ. She said with a grin.

Hey, Im your superior officer Alabaster. Thats Lets get back to HQ shorty, sir. Smirked Black.

The past two weeks had been a dramatic change in lifestyle for Carmen, well; her life had changed dramatically anyway, but another change. The Cohort had stopped treating her like the new recruit, and had started to treat her like a member. They had been passing on their skills, and even taking her on patrols, and supply missions. Vicktor had been teaching her basic gun skills, Arabella priming her knowledge of explosives, Gizmo had been teaching her about mechanics and electronics, Black had been tutoring her in stealth, which was difficult with her albino fur. Dekker had been teaching her paw to paw combat, which again had been tricky, as Dekker was mute, but telepathy was helpful in these situations. Killian had been instructing her in bladed weaponry, and tactical maneuvers, and Crimson had been teaching her that no matter what, some people are just very anti-social.

What is Crimsons problem anyway? she asked Black, as they walked in a seemingly arbitrary direction.

Dunno, he is the most focused and skilled member of the team, next to Killian, but he never talks to anyone. Hes kinda a lone wolf. Black grinned at his own pun. I wouldnt bother with him if I were you.

~TBC

-
The Cohort Saga, Part II - The Responsibility of Freedom
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Chapter II - Experience
-

Two months have passed now, since the chocolate incident, and Carmen had learnt enough skills to make a valid contribution to any mission, and had been practicing a few skills of her own.

Wanna up the stakes? Vicktor asked, his furry face deadpan, tossing a nutshell onto the pile in the center of the table.

Black whistled, and folded. Dekker smiled and did the same. Carmen looked at Vicktor, and tossed one of her own nutshells onto the pile. Arabella was sitting on the edge of the table, not paying attention and fiddling with a small detonator. Gizmo was eating his nutshells absent-mindedly.

Are you two playing or not? Vicktor asked, slightly perturbed. Arabella shrugged, and folded. Gizmo looked at his cards, grinned madly, and when to put a nutshell onto the pile, but found that he had none left.

Ermoops? He said. Vicktor rolled his eyes. Prepared to up the wager again, Carmen?

Carmen smiled in an unnerving way at him.

Craters. You know, dont you? I fold. He laid his hand on the table, he had been bluffing heavily. I hate playing cards with telepaths.

Carmen smiled as she scooped up her winnings. You know you are going to lose Vicktor, I can see every card coming, so why play?

Two reasons. One; if I can somehow beat you at cards, then maybe, just maybe, there is someway to beat Robotnik at the game of Global Domination. And two; Im a compulsive gambler.

Heads up people, weve got a job to do! Killians voice rang loud and clear through the complex. The General has a parts shipment for this zones robot army inbound, and we are going to give it a welcoming party. Ive got Crimson running recon on it now, but Im thinking an attack team will need to be strong. This is not going to be a walk in the park. Gizmo, Im going to need you running signal interference again. Everyone else, prepare yourselves.

Carmen was a bit stunned, did he mean she was going with them? On a tactical strike mission? Was she ready for this?

-

Crimson overlooked the convoy beneath him. It was heavily guarded, surrounded by multiple tens of armed guard bots, tactical thought bots, and even a couple of archaic Badniks. At the sight of these, Crimson scowled. They were the original troops of Robotniks army, weapons of fear and oppression, powered by a living person trapped inside. That the ancient machines were being used now, could point to two things, either the Cohorts attacks on the Generals forces were finally making an impact. Or that they had really annoyed him, and he was resorting to the fear tactics of his Lord. Either way, they were going to need practically the whole Cohort to take this lot down, Killian of course would know that. But Crimson reported it anyway.

-

This is a hit and run, we take no prisoners, we leave no survivors. Everybody understand? Killian was briefing the Cohort in the woodlands near the convoys path. Everyone nodded, except for Crimson, who was watching the path. He raised one paw, and everyone went quiet. There was a faint hum of anti-gravity jets in the distance, growing louder by the second. When the hum had reached a peak, Crimson dropped his paw. Arabella held up a remote detonator, and pressed the big red button. A fireball rose into the sky with a concussive boom and a wave of searing heat. The Cohort ducked to the ground as the blast of air passed over them, then as one, rose and charged through the woodland onto the path. Carmen, Vicktor and Arabella laid down a covering fire, taking out several of the robots that had survived the initial blast, as Killian, Crimson, Black and Dekker rushed toward the remains of the convoy. Killian was moving faster then his age would have led most to believe, swinging his broadsword as if it were a twig, slicing through the robots like butter. Crimson was a red blur, leaping from robot to robot with his large double sword, leaving chunks of scrap metal in his wake. Dekker, Black on his shoulder, was headed toward the heavily damaged transport vehicle, pushing any opposition out of his way. Once there Black jumped onto the vehicle, and clambered inside of it. Once he was inside, Dekker turned around and grabbed a guard bot that was headed toward him, and compressed it into a pile of metal with his paws, which he then proceeded to use as a cudgel against any advancing robots. Any robot that attempted to target the stationary bear was quickly disarmed by Vicktors quick shooting.

Ready to rock! Chirped the ants tiny voice, as he climbed out of the machine. Dekker grabbed him and ran back to the woodlands. Behind them, the transport flashed white momentarily, then vaporized, leaving a patch of scorched land. Killian and Crimson destroyed the last of the guard bots, then joined the rest back in the woodland.

Mission accomplished! Grinned Vicktor, holstering his guns. Lets get out of here. As he stepped forward, the ground in front of him erupted into flames, as a burning hot ball of energy hit it. What the- aw heck! The Badniks from the convoy party emerged from the trees, weapons and malicious intent blazing. SCATTER! He yelled.

They dived for cover in different directions as the Badniks pursued them. Individually, the Badniks were a simple matter to take care of, but in a group, difficulty arose. Each of the group lead one of the nine Badniks, two each in the case of Killian and Crimson. Carmen run for a while, then turned on the machine, gun aimed squarely at its head. But then she hesitated, eyes wide. The Badnik grinned as best as a machine could, and charged its weapons. Carmen was still frozen in its sights, a look of absolute fear in her eyes. Moments before the Badnik fired its weapon, Crimson dropped in front of Carmens shaking form, and caught the ball of energy mid flight. Growling slightly, he pushed his hands forward, and the energy ball inverted, collapsing in on itself, and becoming a jet of intense flame that vaporized the Badnik in its path. Straightening up, he turned to Carmen.

No, they cant be real, they are myths, stories Carmen was muttering under her breath. She seemed to realized what had just happened, and looked into Crimsons eyes. Crimson, there was, somebody in that thing

Yes, he said. I know. With that, he walked off into the depths of the woodlands.

~TBC

Wow Crim, good work here - I didn't realize just how dark Crimson was in his original universe. It's such an amazing contrast to the Crimson I've gotten to know from chat RPs and GM: Exodus.

Truth to tell, I haven't been reading this strictly from the beginning - I started reading with the 2nd post, then skipped down to about fifth post, worked my way back up and down. But once I settle at any one point, it's easy for me to be swept up into the story. The pace is good, and the overall grammar and spelling is far above par for what is accepted on the 'Net for fanfics.

I've mentioned this before, but you add little details in that are almost subtle, but add and/or explain a lot of things that just make it seem more realistic. The way the robots speak, the blue sigil of the Cohort of the Blue Blur and its meaning, the "hot chocolate initiation," the reason why Mobians wear gloves usually - all of these little details are amazing building blocks to make the world seem more real.

And the characters are all complex without being incomprehensible. You have a mechanic, usually the nerd of the group, who also fits the role of the big heavy brawler type. You have a small and stealthy ant, an unusual character species choice but one that makes sense for his role. You have a self-styled "pirate," a bombaholic chipmunk, a mysterious leader (who for some reason, what with his rubbing of his spine near his tail, could very well be a familiar formerly two-tailed fox we all know - or at least a descendant. But that's only my guess and observation), and of course Crimson himself, who is at once the enigma of the team as well as one of its greatest strengths.

But I can already see some of the setup for the relationship that Crim and Carmen will have, or maybe that's just because I already know they'll be together thanks to your character profile. It's neat that we're seeing this from Carmen's perspective for the most part, which will make the ending all the more dramatic as it comes to a close. Great stuff.

Had to post that, hope that helps and gives you hope for other readers.

Thankyou very much Terg! And yeah, MFW Crimsons almost like a completely different person ^^; It's a good thing prolly.

Interesting way of reading, but hey, whatever works for you =) I tend to highlight the paragraph I'm reading when looking at fics, so *shrugs*

Anywhom, thanks for the great feedback!

Now, onto the next chapter, which is...meh. It's certainly not my favourite chapter, and goes generally into the chaos mythos of this universe, theres some okayish concepts in there, but some of it is...bleh. Still, what's done is done.

-
The Cohort Saga, Part II - The Responcebility of Freedom
-
Chapter III - Wisdom
-

Carmen was walking through the woods alone, following the tattoo on her arm that led back to the Cohorts HQ, thinking about her encounter with the Badnik. She had hesitated, almost getting herself killed in the process. That was not a good thing, ever. But the, the thing she had faced. To be trapped inside a killing machine, that was a nightmare. If Crimson hadnt killed the poor creature, they would surely have died of shock anyway, or if they survived, they would be so mentally unbalanced that they would have been better of dead.

If Crimson hadnt killed them.

Crimson scared her.

-

Vicktor entered the clearing that housed the entrance to the Cohorts HQ, limping slightly. He carefully walked over to the wall where the entrance was hidden, almost collapsing on the way. Graaaahhhhh! he roared, punching the wall hard. He had tried to save another one, only to have the poor creature die of shock when it breathed air again for the first time since god knows when. Maybe I should just stop trying he mumbled, looking glum.

Carmen saw Vicktor as she walked across the clearing. Vicktor noticed her and stood straight, disguising his limp. Nice to see you got back alive, Carmen. He waved, Open sesame. He exclaimed, holding his wrist up to the wall. It opened to the long passage that was now becoming familiar to her.

Inside, Carmen was relieved to see that everybody had made it back okay. She and Vicktor sat at the table, with most of the Cohort. Crimson was missing, but upon inquiry, he was in his room. Well done everyone. Mission successful. Not a single screw up. Congratulated Vicktor.

Erm said Carmen, sheepishly. Well, I did sort of makea tiny screw up

What happened?

When those things attacked, I sensed a mind trapped inside. And I hesitated. I would have been killed if it wasnt for

Mullet the Wonder Wolf coming to the rescue? Vicktor interjected.

Carmen knew who he meant, and nodded. Arabella hit him telling him that his own hairstyle wasnt the height of fashion.

Dont worry about it, Carmen. Vicktor said, rubbing his head. Those are Badniks, a relic from Robotniks take over. They creep me out every time I see them, experience helps, but you never get used to them. He looked down. Never.

But Crimson, just killed them. He didnt even show any remorse. She said, still a little shaken by the concept of Badniks.

Dekker nodded, and Black spoke up. It is the best way to deal with them, trying to help them only ends in disaster. Vicktor shuddered slightly, but unnoticed by the Cohort. It isnt nice, but we have no choice.

Crimson may be cold, but he isnt immobian. Arabella said. Ill bet even he feels a little guilty about the Badniks.

Carmen nodded, then headed of towards Crimsons side cave.

Shes gonna go talk to Crimson, Boss. Gizmo stated in disbelief. Shouldnt we stop her? You know he likes his privacy

Yeah the antisocial git that he is. Vicktor added.

Killian held up a paw, motioning Gizmo to stop. Let Carmen see Crimsons personality for herself.

What personality? This was Vicktor again.

Dont be so quick to judge others Vicktor, you know not what Crimson thinks.

-

Carmen strode into Crimsons room and was stopped by his voice speaking loud and clear, with a strong purpose. What are you doing here? This is my room.

Carmen gazed into the dark gloom that was Crimsons cave, she could not see him at first, but as her eyes adjusted, she noticed he was sitting cross legged, his hands on his knees, eyes closed with an intense look of concentration on his brows. He was floating inches from the surface he was seated on. Which happened to be the ceiling of the cave.

I came to talk. She shouted up to him. He growled in reply. Those Badniks, they had living people inside them. But you just destroyed them as if they were just any other robots. Why didnt you try to help them?

The Badniks are difficult, to destroy them without harming the individual inside, istricky. Killian himself has only known one person who could do it well, in all his 68 years on Mobius. That person is not I.

But you didnt even try to save them, you dont even seem bothered that you killed somebody back there she shouted, tears forming in her eyes.

What good wouldve risking my own life in a futile attempt have been? There is no way I could have saved them, and you know it. Even if I had managed to free them successfully, they would have had to live under Robotniks oppression faced with their own memories every day of their lives, tormented by nightmares of a twisted conjunction of blood and metal. Do you really wish them condemned to that?

No, I guess not.

Good, if there is nothing else. Crimson stated irritably, urging her to leave.

Actually, there is one thing. Carmen replied, wiping her eyes and ignoring his cold shoulder. Back during battle, you caught a fireball with your own paws, then turned it against its user. How did you do that?

Crimsons eyes shot open, and he dropped from the ceiling, turning halfway through the 10-foot drop and landing deftly on his feet, facing her. You want to know how I did that? He smiled, a rare occurrence. Nobody has asked me that before. He sat down on the floor of the cave, and motioned for her to do the same. Have you ever heard of the Chaos?

As in things happening randomly, with no pattern?

No, not chaos, Chaos. It is the source of all things in the universe, all the planets, all the stars, all the creatures, everything. From its raw power, the elements and laws of conventional science are formed. They are formed raw, and chaotic. But the Chaos also instills a sense of order into the universe, at the heart of all structured matter, are the Chaos emeralds. They regulate and distribute the power of the Chaos equally among all matter. At the center of every star, is a lattice work of emeralds the size of Mobius, for a planet of this size and diversity, there are seven different emeralds, each the size of your fist, and one controlling Master emerald the size of a person. And inside here, he said touching his chest, is a shard of emerald, far smaller then even the bodys cells. Each of the seven emeralds that regulate the life force of the planet has different powers and properties. The red emerald produces the flames and warmth of the planet. The blue emerald maintains the moisture of Mobius. Yellow secures the atmosphere and the air that we breathe. Green allows the earth to grow grass and plants. Orange breathes life into the creatures that walk the planets surface. The purple emerald produces the shadows that hide, the cold that chills, and the minds that we have. The Seventh gray emerald suppresses the powers of the other six. Without the seventh emerald, the balance of creation and destruction that lies within the emeralds would shift. It would be the apocalypse.

Carmen shuddered at the thought that a simple malfunction could mean the end of all things. Then something he had said struck her.

Red, blue, yellowI thought emeralds were always green?

He chuckled slightly, How observant you are. The term Emerald is a mistake; it is used for simplicities sake only. A true emerald is an aluminium beryllium silicate crystal with chromium impurities, but a Chaos emerald is more like a diamond. A crystal of Chaobon atoms, a carbon atom in which a number of the neutrons are replaced with Chaotic particles, giving them the vivid colors and properties that mark them for what they are. The colors and properties of the emeralds are caused by the number of Chaotic particles that they contain, the power levels of the first six emeralds are equal and stable, but the seventh emerald, the gray emerald, contains more Chaotic particles than it has neutrons. It is immensely powerful. The eighth emerald is more powerful still, it formed the other emeralds, it supplies them with raw Chaos energy, and if it needs to, it can alter the balance of harmony between them. There may be emeralds with even more Chaotic particles in them out there somewhere, but this planet cannot house the power that they would produce. We are part of the Chaos, and with training, we can guide the elements of the world around us.

How do you know all this, Crimson?

The knowledge of Mobius has always been there for us to make use of. Killian has traveled this world from pole to pole, and learnt far more than I can ever hope to know. It was he who taught me all of this.

Carmen sat for a moment, taking in all he had said. Was all life really subject to these ultimately powerful crystals? She considered everything for a moment, and then spoke again. Crimson, can you teach me to use Chaos magic?

The wolf grinned at her. You really are a smart one, arent you? In this universe, if you ask for nothing you will gain nothing, so to ask for what you want to know, is unusual sense. I can teach you, but it will take many years of intense study. Do you think you can handle it?

Carmen nodded.

Then let us begin. He said, adopting the pose that he had previously when he was on the ceiling. First you must find your connection to Chaos, search within, search without, and search throughout. Your mind must be open to all, but closed to distraction. It is difficult to do.

Carmen took his pose, and they sat in silence, meditating on the life of the universe.

-

Six months passed, and Carmens training continued, her skills in every area had become sufficient enough, that tutoring was no longer required. She could conduct lone patrols and supply runs like the rest of the Cohort, when large groups would be unwieldy and dangerous. She could generate tactical maneuvers to combat enemy patrols, she could even handle Badniks with a small of amount horrific guilt. She knew enough from all areas of skill to satisfy each and every member of the Cohort. All areas of skills except for one.

Six months of regular meditation, and she still hadnt made any progress with finding her connection. Crimson had been very little help, saying that it was not a journey that could be given help. Though she hadnt found any Chaos, she had found that the meditation improved her mental powers, and her general disposition. She was far more content with her own life now then she had been since her parents died. And her powers of foresight were improving, she could see the Cohort now, and short-term, she could see paths of hope. Long term futures were still a depressing wasteland, but that didnt bother her so much anymore, as she had begun to understand that everything they would do could generate a whole new set of paths of for the future. Her visions were based upon the present, they could not factor in every possibility of every possibility of everything. They were not absolute, and this was pleasing.

She sat down in Crimsons cave, ready for another session of meditation, and closed her eyes. She calmed all the thoughts in her mind, and tried to focus upon Crimsons words concerning Chaos. What had he said? Search within, search without, and search throughout. What in the heck was that supposed to mean? Open your mind to all, but close your mind to distractions. That was just gibberish. Then it struck her, his advice that day had been plain and simple, hidden amongst cryptic philosophy. In this universe, you get nothing, unless you ask for it. She smiled and asked the question of herself, and of the world. What is my connection to the Chaos?

Then she saw it. The flow of the Chaos, its perfect harmony of energies supporting the worlds life, interweaving everything on the planet, everything in the universe. And she saw herself, a microcosm of that flow, as was every other sentient being in the universe. They were Chaos, Chaos was all. She also saw, that to unbalance the flow of Chaos, in even the smallest way, could risk corrupting everything, and destroying all. To harness and manipulate the Chaos, one had to counterbalance the effects of everything that one did, they needed absolute understanding of what they were doing.

Crimson still scared her.

~end of Part II

Quote:

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Crimson still scared her

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For some bizarre reason, this is my lasting memory of the Cohort Saga...

I remembered pretty much everything else (re-reading it all at 3am anyone?), but that line comes to mind everytime I take a look at the story

I still love this fic - even though the majority of my love for the sonic universe has faded, you've managed to pull it up by its pants and slap it into some form of interesting... I knew where this metaphor was going when I started, but it seems to have escaped...

I think your writing has progressed, and when you submit the later parts of the Saga people will quite easily be able to see how your style becomes a lot more consistent and fluid.

...

Of course I still occasionally want to hit you for some bits of spelling and grammar... And the accursed 'ballistic commas'... But Tergonaut's right - you're well above par in terms of interweb fiction.

Good job as always buddy

Thankyou me old mucker ^^

Hehehe, Yeah, that line sticks with me too, because that's the point where the characters stopped listening to me and wandered off to do thier own thang ^^;

And ballistic commas are fun! But not as fun as a comma ballista =D

Anyway, I should update, methinks...

~~~~~

-
The Cohort Saga, Part III - Tragedy
-
Chapter I - Strike out
-

-
Chapter 1-Strike out
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Dreams are an escape from reality for the mind. Under the tyranny of Robotnik, they are the only respite a person has, a place away from the oppression and control of the obese overlord. At the moment, Vicktor, ex-gunrunner and current member of the Cohort of the Blue Blur, was dreaming. He wasnt dreaming of freedom for the world. He wasnt dreaming of the end of persecution. He wasnt even dreaming for the end of Robotnik. Though he fought for all these things, Vicktor wasnt one to dream for them. Vicktor was dreaming that he was the richest person on Mobius, and that he was ten foot tall, and plated with gold. Vicktor liked his dreams.

You bring me an offering of peace?! Vicktor asked, incredulously. He was seated on an extravagant throne, surrounded by scantily clad females of varying specie. Kneeling at his feet was Crimson Darkwolfe, looking unusually small and frightened, offering a diamond the size of his own head to Vicktor. With that pathetic tribute? Ha! Take him to the dungeons. He snapped his fingers, and two burly guards appeared from the shadows and dragged Crimson away screaming. Vicktor turned to a leggy blonde cat on his left, who had been peeing grapes for him. You, come and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. He said with a grin.

The cat walked over, swinging her hips seductively. When she reached him, she draped herself over his chest, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. Wake up you lazy fleabag. She said, in a voice as sweet as syrup.

Vicktor blinked, a little taken a back at this. Huh?

I said get you lazy tail out of bed fur ball. Said the beautiful girl, in a now angry voice, not matching her seductive expression.

Say what!?

Oh for goodness sake. The harem girl drew back her paw, and punched him on the forehead.

Vicktor woke with a start to find himself lying face down on the floor, with Arabella standing over him, she had obviously pushed him out of his bed, causing him to bang his head on the floor. Ow he complained.

Save it for somebody who cares Vicktor. She smirked. The boss wants us in the main cavern for a meeting, nowish.

Vicktor sat up, and started licking his paw. He stopped when he saw Arabella still staring at him. If you dont mind Im having a quick bath before the meeting.

I dont mind.

Vicktor flattened his ears and hissed, his eyes narrow. He finally got rid of Arabella by hurling a pillow at her head.

-

Nice of you to join us Vicktor. Killian waved for the tomcat to come over to the conference table. Vicktor looked round, 2 am was not a nice time of the morning. Arabella was looking even more irritable then usual, Black and Dekker were practically asleep at the table, Gizmo was drinking an extra strong black coffee, Carmen was on the watch tonight, so she was awake anyway, but she at least had the decency to look tired. The only ones seemingly not perturbed by the early hours of the morning were Killian and Crimson, and Vicktor wasnt entirely sure if they ever slept at all, ever.

Okay, good morning ladies and gentlemen, lets get this meeting underway. Killian said, First of all, is there any apologies for absence?

Har-de-har, your blooming hilarious Killian, now can we get on with it? Vicktor grumbled.

Okay, okay. Using Gizmos signal interference device, I have managed to intercept and decode vital tactical information from the General himself. Everyone was suddenly paying attention when he said this. It appears that his research and development team have created a new kind of weapon, and are to be testing it this very morning, on the outskirts of the zone.

What type of weapon? Black inquired.

Havent the foggiest.

Whatever it is, we cant let the General use it. Carmen stated, yawning.

Indeed we cant. Black, Dekker, I want you two to run recon. The weapon is being taken to a clearing at co-ordinate x983y599, find the convoy and follow it. We will meet you later.

Black and Dekker nodded, then grabbed a few provisions and left.

We will need Signal Interference running as usual, Gizmo looked a little glum at this. Killian noticed. Carmen, has Gizmo been teaching you how to use the signal interference equipment?

Both Carmen and Gizmo looked startled by this. Yes he has.

Do you feel confident enough to use it?

Yes, I think I can handle it.

Right, Carmen, youll be running interference as soon as we leave. Everyone else, get yourselves prepared for battle, we leave in two hours.

They all nodded, and left the table, heading back to their own side-caves. Vicktor used his two hours wisely in his opinion. He slept through them.

-

Okay guys, whats the situation? Killian asked the two friends that he had sent as scouts.

The convoy has been moving at a steady pace all morning, headed for the co-ordinates you gave us. The weapon appears to be in several parts at the moment, each carried on a different hover transport. Each transport has an escort of ten guard bots, each squad of bots is led by a tactical thinking bot. Not a Badnik in sight, thank goodness. Current mission status, tired as heck. Black reported. Dekker confirmed all he said by nodding.

How many transports?

Five, at least.

That makes things just so much more difficult. Killian sighed, and rubbed the long unsightly scar on his back, near his tail. Are you two combat effective? Dekker nodded, but Black shook his head. They looked at each other for a moment, and then turned back to Killian, this time Dekker shook his head, but Black was nodding. Killian rolled his eye. Okay, get some rest, you obviously need it. The two sighed, and then slumped down onto the floor. That just leaves five of us to take out five hover transports and fifty five bots. Thats eleven bots a piece.

More of a challenge then. Vicktor said smiling, and cocking his pistols.

Oh yeah, real fun way to spend the morning. Dieing horribly. Arabella sneered. We cant just go charging in guns blazing you moron.

I quite agree, Arabella. Killian nodded Do you have any more mines left?

Nuh-uh. She shook her head. No good, we would have to set them up a long way down the road to avoid being noticed, and there isnt enough road left. How bout some tachyon induction bombs, Giz?

The little Meerkat flipped open a panel on his robotic arm, and pressed a few buttons. Then he shook his head. Thats a no go Bella, not got enough power for five, even if we could get close enough to attach them. Perhaps some kind of electromagnetic pulse?

Vicktor rolled his eyes at this. You and your electromagnetic pulses Gizmo. You know that you still cant get them working properly. Gizmo looked a little downcast, but it was true. I say we just blitz them, take out as many as we can before they even notice us.

Throughout the whole discussion Crimson had been crouched by the edge of their cover, leaning on his large double-ended sword, completely silent. But now he spoke; They are coming now, we attack fast and under cover, Vicktor, Killian and I shall destroy the escort, Gizmo and Arabella, head straight for the transports, destroy them in any way you can.

Who died and made you boss mutt? Vicktor hissed.

Killian nodded, sagely. Its a good plan, we go with it. You can provide the cover Crimson? The dark red wolf nodded. Okay then, when Crimson gives us the signal, we attack.

They sat in the clearing for what seemed like an eternity to Vicktor. Finally a load humming sound was audible the other side of their cover. Crimsons eyes widened, and his pupils dilated until his red irises were practically non-existent. His gloved paws seemed to be surrounded by a purple fire. Killian made some complicated paw signals to Gizmo, who handed Arabella a pair of odd looking goggles, putting on a pair himself. Crimson was shaking all over, sweating profusely even through his fur, and whatever he was doing was certainly a strain upon him. With a snarl, he cupped his hands together, and pushed the purple fire into a ball, then turned his hands upwards, shooting the ball into the air. When the ball was high enough above them, it froze in position, and then emitted a black shadow, that melted over the surrounding area. Everything went black. Vicktor blinked, and let his night vision take over. Being a cat, Vicktor could see very easily in the dark, Arabella and Gizmo were wearing specially developed goggles Gizmo had invented. He didnt know or care how Killian and Crimson could see, but they did it very well.

Attack now! Crimson said, a little breathlessly, Attack before they realize what is happening and activate their own night vision devices. With that, he was gone, into battle. Killian and Vicktor leapt through the bushes together, and split off into different directions as they landed. Vicktor took quick aim, and emptied both of his pistols into the mass of robots in front of him. His aim was true, but bullets were not very effective against the armored bots, each one needing at least three shots before it would collapse onto the floor, despite Vicktors use of armor piercing bullets. Only seven robots fell to the onslaught before his pistols were completely empty, the bots were beginning to catch on that they were under attack, and were turning on their night vision. They would have noticed this before, but the tactical thinking bots had been the first to be destroyed. Vicktor didnt have time to reload, flattening his ears as a transport exploded behind him, he holstered his pistols and reached behind him, drawing two long swords from their scabbards on his back. He hissed and rushed forward at the squad of remaining robots, his head low, and the swords out to either side. As he drew nearer, he squeezed the handles of the blades, and electricity arced up them producing a loud crackle. He swung at two of the robots that tried to block his path, and the blades cut through them like they were butter. He jumped over a third robot, hanging a sword low and slicing its cranial unit in half, and brought his other sword down in a wide arc as he landed cutting another guard to scrap. Crouching he noticed the transport to his immediate left glow slightly, and shielded his eyes. The transport let off a blinding flash and was vaporized leaving only a scorch mark on the floor. That had to be caused by one of Gizmos tachyon induction bombs, converting all metal in contact with it into faster than light particles. The laws of physics didnt allow such stupidity of course, so the particles were simply annihilated by their own energy, producing photons. The three remaining robots around Vicktor had had their light sensors temporarily overloaded by the blast, so they were easy pickings as he swung his swords upwards, slicing one up the middle the turning and leaving a second in three parts. As he brought his swords down on the last robot in an overhead swipe, it regained its vision, and caught him by the wrists; he dropped the swords in pain and winced.

You are under arrest for heinous crimes against Lord Robotnik, rebel unit. Trial procedure; denied. Death sentence will carried out immediately. The guard droned at him, almost angrily.

The Hell it will! Vicktor snarled, and kicked his feet into the elbow joints of the robots arms, causing it to release him. He rolled as he hit the floor, avoiding the robots fire, and stood up, unsheathing the retractable claws on the ends of his fingers. They were tipped with diamond. Now this is why I hate gloves! He shouted, as he dived forward, slashing viciously at the robots chest plate. Once he had gouged a sizeable hole in the bot, he grabbed a grenade from around his waist, took out the pin, and placed it inside the robot, an insane grin on his face. Back flipping away, he landed with his forepaws on the handles of his swords, hind paws in the air. Performing a handspring he land back on his feet as the bot exploded in front of him. He looked around and sheathed his swords, Crimson was standing amidst the wreckage of twenty or so bots, drawing the shadow-cover back into his paws. Killian was leaning on sword, surrounded by near un-identifiable scrap. Two of the transports were flaming wrecks, and the other two were mere scorch marks on the floor. Arabella and Gizmo were headed toward the remaining transport, when it fell apart, revealing Dekker standing where it had been, smiling amiably. Black stood up out of the wreckage, and grinned, brandishing four tiny screwdrivers.

You didnt think we were going to let you have all the fun did you? asked the ant.

Gizmo walked over to the pieces of the transport, and pushed a few of them about for a while, then bent down and picked up a complicated looking contrivance, with various connectors over it.

Whatve you got there Giz? Vicktor asked.

I reckon its part of that weapon. The augmented meerkat turned to Killian. Id like to take it with us boss. Maybe I can extrapolate its function.

Killian looked a bit apprehensive at this, but nodded anyway.

-

The Cohort trooped into the HQ in high spirits, the mission had been successful, and apart from being unfeasibly tired, they were all in perfect physical condition. Vicktor briskly walked across the cavern and collapsed into a padded chair. The only padded chair. Another grand day out guys. What other activities do we have planned for the future? He asked, a lopsided grin on his face.

Well mister Seriousness, Arabella said, her arms folded. What the future contains for you is a slow and painful death, unless you get out of my chair.

Vicktor seemed to consider this for a moment, the stood up. Of course, my lady. He said, laying on a thick accent. Arabella sat on the padded seat and relaxed. Vicktor then sat on her.

So, whats the plan? Vicktor asked Killian, ignoring Arabellas beatings to his shoulders.

Black was rolling on the floor, laughing at the two. Killian smiled and turned to Gizmo, who was holding back laughter of his own. Go tell Carmen to cease signal interference. I think we have all earned a bit of a rest, he sat down. So the rest of you can do what you want.

Good Arabella said, finally managing to stand up and knock Vicktor to the floor. Cause I want to wring this fleabags scrawny neck.

Youll have to catch me first. Vicktor cajoled, winking.

The two left the room, Arabella chasing after Vicktor, and Killian sighed.

-

Hi Giz. Mission go well? Carmen waved as Gizmo entered the room.

Yeah. Replied the diminutive mechanic.

Say Giz, could you help me with something? The signal interference runner has been picking something up, and Ive looked through your notes, but I cant tell what it is.

What does it look like?

Its like a signal, but just the origin, it doesnt go anywhere. It just sort of flashes. I thought maybe it was someone using the sigil. She described, referring to the tattoo fused upon each members arm by magic. But I checked it out myself. Not it, I even tried scanning the area telepathically, but the result was justconfusing.

Gizmo looked at the screen, then at the device in his hand taken from the convoy. His eyes widened in fear. He crushed the device with his prosthetic arm, and the flashing light on the screen stopped. This is not good

-

Boss! Shouted Gizmo, running into the main cavern, Carmen behind him. Weve got a problem!

Whats the matter Giz?

The weapon part, its a trap! He exclaimed panicking a little. Its some kind of quantum entanglement transmission device. The Generals forces will be on their way here. NOW!

Oh, said black.

Evacuate! NOW! Killian shouted. Grab only essential supplies, and get going.

Right! responded Gizmo, Carmen, Black and Crimson, Dekker nodded. Killian ran of toward the side cave where Vicktor and Arabella had last been seen.

-

Vicktor lay on the floor beside Arabella, the both of the simply staring at the ceiling. What do you think is out there, crazy?

Arabella smiled. Mobius. And youre the crazy one.

Vicktor looked both annoyed and amused. I meant outside Mobius, not outside the cave. He paused for a moment, and then looked at the chipmunk. You know, up there.

I Arabella started, but was cut short as Killian burst in.

Evacuate! We got to leave now! He shouted.

Vicktor groaned, and got up, Bollocks. He said, defiantly.

-

A squad of five specialist Combat bots sat in the clearing outside the Cohorts HQ, immobile. In the center of the clearing stood a tall thin figure, glinting metallically. It thrust the long, sharp titanium talons of one foot into the ground, and raked the dirt towards him, then lifted the foot and repeated the process. One side of the angular armored body was covered in a flowing purple robe. Each of the robots armor plates were trimmed with gold, and the right breastplate was etched with a circle, half filled, a twisted grin on the bottom half. The mechanoids arms were folded, and its posture was slouching, almost like it was bored. The door of the HQ opened, and pitch-black combat bot walked out, and bowed before the tall figure.

General, the rebels were here all right, but not any more. It said, subserviently.

The tall bot frowned, then his sharp face spread into a sinister grin. Never mind Muan. The hunt goes on. The General stepped forward, and the black bot moved to the side. Sweeping his purple robe aside, the general pulled a pulsating weapon from his waist, and aimed it down the passage to the HQ. The weapon fired, and an incandescent beam traveled down the corridor, there was a loud explosion, and the HQ collapsed on flames. Pulling his robe back over his shoulder, General Cizin stalked away.

~TBC

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The Cohort Saga, Part III - Tragedy
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Chapter 2-Location, Location, Location
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The Cohort of the blue blur sat around a fire, in a clearing in the ivy in the middle of a cave. Carmen had already checked the results of camping the night in the area with precognitive skills. Arabella was roasting chestnuts on the fire, gazing deep into the flames. They had lost again. Every time she thought that she could settle somewhere, Robotnik took it away from her. She was not happy.

Why are we sitting here after that mechanical menace destroyed our home? Shouted at Killian, questioningly. I say we go and destroy the General once and for all.

Killian looked across the fire at her with his one piercing blue eye, and told her in a flat, calm tone. The General is far too powerful for us too take on, no matter how skilled we are, or how much we train. Too attempt a direct assault would be suicide. He poked the fire, causing it to flare slightly, and Vicktor backed off. We cannot stop Robotniks rule over this world, we can only stop him from controlling us. We must fight this war in the shadows, escaping from the clutches of evil to live another day. A war by attrition, we cannot win it, but we can stop ourselves from losing, and that is victory enough. But know this Arabella, the only reason that we still can fight as much as we do, is that the General is proud and will not ask for help to exterminate us. Robotniks Armies have the manpower to search every inch of this zone in three seconds flat, and one day, we may just irritate the General enough for the to do that. He threw the stick he was holding onto the fire. The only thing the we can do is injure the Generals operations, and make sure that there is something for future generations to have hope for.

There was an awkward silence for a good ten minutes, finally broken by Vicktor, who was hugging his knees. Dont you think that fire is a little big? he asked, in an unusually small voice.

Everyone looked at the fire, and then at Vicktor. Not really, if anything, it could do with being bigger. Said Black, who was toasting some bread.

But what about the Generals forces, wont they see a fire from the sky? Im only thinking of our safety. His eyes were a little wide.

Everybody was staring at him, except for Crimson, who was looking out into the woods. It was Crimson, however, who broke the silence. Vicktor, we are in a cave. I think that the likelihood of aerial spies is minimal.

Vicktor glared at him, and hissed, then shuffled further away from the fire. He looked around at the blank faces, and hung his head slightly, and whispered into his knees. I just dont like fire, okay. The Cohort in general was puzzled, but decided to leave it.

I think we all need to sleep, but we most defiantly need to watch our backs tonight. Vicktor, you take first watch, Crimson, second, Ill take third. The two volunteers nodded, and the Cohort all tried to make themselves comfortable on the hard cave floor. All but Vicktor, who was taking the watch, and Arabella.

I thought you might like the company, make sure the fire doesnt get to you. She smiled.

Dont mock me. He said, in a voice so hurt and scared, that it was a shock contrast to the confident, joking voice that Arabella usually associated with the Ginger tom.

She looked at his shaking form for a moment then apologized in an almost inaudible voice, and sat with him, saying nothing.

-

Three hours had passed, and it was time for Crimson to take watch. He had been awake for the past hour, making sure that he was fully aware of his surroundings when his turn on duty came. He walked over to where Vicktor was sat with a sleepy looking Arabella. Vicktor looked up at him, and smiled. Its okay fang features, Im not going to be sleeping tonight. Ill take your watch; you can get some much-needed beauty sleep.

Crimson looked at the tom, a conceded the fact that there was no way that he was going to sleep. As long as you can handle it. Crimson said, in a deadpan voice, then returned to where he had bunked down.

Vicktor watched the wolf leave, and then muttered under his breath. So the mutt does sleep.

Arabella looked at him, frowning slightly. Vicktor, why do you hate Crimson so much? I know he can be kind of aloof, but he isnt as bad as you treat him.

He is a canine. What is there to like? Vicktor replied.

Arabella was shocked to hear this. Simple species prejudice, in a world with so much more to hate. It was petty and wrong at the best of times, but under circumstances like these, it was ludicrous. You hate him just because he is a wolf? She questioned, a little irate. Isnt that kind of, wellsilly?

Vicktor turned to her with the same seriousness in his eyes that was there whilst she was mocking him for his fear of fire. After what Robotnik has done to this world, and the Mobian way of life, would you be able to ever trust another human?

Arabella thought about this. No, I guess that I couldnt, even if I wanted to.

It is the same thing with felines and canines. Many centuries ago now, the Canine populous oppressed and enslaved the felines of Mobius. Eventually we escaped their chains, as they set up Mobian Rights Laws. For those laws to be passed, I guess that there must have been a few good mutts out there. But ever since, you will be hard pressed to find a cat out there who will befriend a dog.

But what about Killian, you treat him like anyone else.

Killian isDifferent.

How so?

I dont want to talk about it. The cat stared of into the middle distance.

Arabella stared with him for a while, then turned back to face him. So lets talk about something else then. She smiled at him.

He smiled back. Okay then, lets talk about you, Bella. Whats your history, surely you cant have been a pyromaniac hothead all your life.

Pretty much, she replied. I lived in a small town in the Hill Top Zone until I was about 5 or 6. It was an unimportant, unobtrusive little community, fairly untouched by Robotniks reign. You know the type.

He nodded. They seem to crop up all over Mobius, I dont see why Robotnik left them all around. They are the perfect breeding ground for insubordinate minds.

Maybe he was bored? Anyway, the town was quiet; we never broke any laws, always paid the taxes, no matter how unfair they were. But we were friendly to a local resistance group, we gave the food, and shelter. One night in the middle of winter however, it all collapsed around our ears. General Cabrakan, Robotniks chief lackey in the Hill Top, found out about our dealings with the resistance. He sent in an elite squad of Combat robots. The village didnt stand a chance; a few of escaped, with some of the freedom fighters, myself included. All of my family and my friends, they were not so lucky. She wiped a tear from her eye. I lived with resistance for a few months, picking up as many skills as I could, but it was not to last. One night I saw one of the resistance members, another despicable human, talking to an agent of the General. That bastard turned us all over to Robotnik, in an attempt to save his own skin. The Robot killed him anyway. That night I did something shameful, I ran. I ran to save my own fur, instead of warning the others. And I have been running from resistance group to resistance group for 25 years. Vicktor sat closer, in an attempt to comfort the chipmunk. When I hooked up with Killian, I thought that finally, I would stop running, and fight back. Now our HQ, our home, is destroyed, and Im told that we cannot win, we must keep running. She sighed. I just want to fight back.

Vicktor put his arm round Arabella. We havent lost our home, and as long as we live, we will be fighting. This isnt the first time that weve lost a HQ to the General. Ive been with Killian for ten years, back when I met him; it was just him and his mutt of an apprentice. We have lost quite a few hideouts since then, but there is plenty more, I know.

How do you know?

Because they used to by my hideouts. I never had the privilege of a home, or even a regular family, I dont even know where I was born. He blinked. I think Im about forty, but I cant even be sure of that. My parents were gunrunners, smugglers, for freedom fighter groups across Mobius, and there are more of those then you can imagine. I was left under the care of people in almost every zone on Mobius, and once I was old enough I helped with the business. The job was highly profitable, and often quite enjoyable. He grinned at this, but then the grin faded. However it was also highly risky. When I was only a teenager, my father and my mother were killed in an operation, and the responsibility of running the shipments fell directly in my lap. I changed the way things were run, instead of being constantly on the move, I started operating things from the Mystic Cave Zone. I set up an almost infinite amount of hideouts, some impregnable, some obvious. The obvious hideouts were decoys, designed to be destroyed whenever the General was getting to close to catching us. I gained riches and fame, and then lost them on an almost regular basis. But I got too confident, and the General attacked a hideout, while we were still there. He clutched his tail, which had a sparser covering of fur near the tip. Everyone that I had known my whole life, they were all destroyed in a few moments of burning pain. The HQ was burnt to the ground, while I was still inside. I still feel the flames occasionally, when something is wrong. I thought I was going to die, every inch of my fur was burning, and the flesh of my tail was alight. The Killian and Crimson came, they dragged me out of the fire. He removed his vest, revealing two long scars across his chest. Mullet mutt put out the flames, while Killian cut the skin on my chest. Arabella gasped, but Killian hushed her. It was for my own good. My skin was contracting from the heat of the fire, and I was suffocating. Cutting these, he pointed to the scars, relieved the tension. They saved my life, and put me in debt.

Is that why you treat Killian with such respect?

No. To a cat, a dog is a dog, even if they save your life. But I owed them, and we felines are proud. We may be selfish, egotistical and lazy, but we have our honor. I gave them access to all my hideouts, and anything that they contained. I had no way to re-establish my smuggling empire, so I helped them in their fight for freedom. He looked at his wrist, clenched his fist, and the mark of the blue blur appeared, pointing in an eastern direction. Only Killian, Crimson, and I know where all the hideouts are, and as long as he knows where he is headed, so does the blue blur. He turned back to look at Arabella. We arent running Bella, not really. By living to fight another day, we are fighting. Under the conditions we are forced to live, to run is to fight. To remain defiant is the only way we can fight. He waved his arm upwards. Out there, beyond the Cave, beyond Mobius, beyond all physical being, are the ones who stopped running. They stopped running, and they could not fight anymore. They gained freedom, but they lost all else. I cannot face that yet. I am not ready. I want my freedom, but I want to live to experience it.

Arabella gazed at the world beaten tomcat; she had never thought him so complex. Deep down, she had always suspected that he was in it for the money. And in a way, that was what had brought him to the fight. But she could see his wishes for freedom of people, and of debts repaid. She had considered him a joker and a cynic, never serious about the fight. But cynicism has to be caused by something, and that something was deadly serious.

By the firelight, the two freedom fighters, orphaned by a being more powerful then comprehension, running from an enemy they could not escape, joined in a kiss.

-

The early morning hours had rolled in, and Vicktor was beginning to feel the adverse effects of sleep deprivation. Arabella had hours ago fallen asleep upon his arm, and was snoring gently. He himself was just about nodding off, barely able to keep his eyelids open. He yawned widely, and closed his eyes, for just one second.

Nice to see you as vigilant as ever Vicktor. Killian chuckled, standing behind Vicktor with a grin on his face.

Huh? WhaKillian! I was just, I, err

The venerable gray wolf placed a gloved paw upon Vicktors shoulder. Its okay, youve been up all night, and five minutes will not make a difference. Go get some sleep, its my watch. Vicktor smiled slightly, then fell back into slumber. Killian sat against a wall, crossed his legs, and allowed his awareness to extend over the surrounding area. Confident that he would pick up upon any intruders into the area, Killian concentrated his thoughts, and participated in his favorite pastime; flying. Sure it was abusing the Chaos slightly, but he would make it up later. For now, he wanted to enjoy himself, not many could enjoy themselves over the past 60 years, so somebody had to. But if Killian had his way, more people would be enjoying themselves, somehow.

-

Dawn had broken, and the sunlight was giving the cave an eerie glow, especially as there was no explicable way for the light to penetrate this far into the cavern. Killian had woken the Cohort, and they were moving off toward wherever their new HQ was located. Killian was in the lead, with Crimson providing the vanguard. Vicktor and Arabella were walking together, and talking. All seemed rather peaceful, until Arabella hit Vicktor round the head for being rude. Everything, apparently was back to normal.

In the shadows of the cave, two yellow light sensors flashed. Muan allowed an amusement algorithm to run in his conscious processing, the foolish organics were going to lead him straight to their base of operations. And where his predecessors had been discovered during these operations, Muan had not. The ebony robot stepped into the ambient light, and followed the group, his heavy looking limbs not making a sound as they pressed into the rock floor.

-

The day passed uneventfully, and the Cohort had once again set up a campfire in a safe place. The all sat around the flames, Vicktor and Arabella seated a little way back. Arabella turned to Vicktor, How much further is this next hideout of yours? she asked of him, sounding like an impatient child.

Vicktor thought for a moment, dredging through his memories. Its not much further, Im quite surprised that Killian doesnt just take us there tonight actually. Vicktor looked round at the assembled freedom fighters, a more rag-tag bunch of waifs and strays, one would be hard pressed to find. Each one looked haggard and world weary in their own unique way, excepting Crimson, who never seemed to show emotions, at all.

Look at them all Vicktor, look at yourself. Arabella sighed, leaning against the ginger feline. We are all so tired. We have had to go straight from fighting a battle, to fleeing our home, to a trek for a new one. She sighed, and Vicktor knew she was right, the Cohort all looked tired, both mentally and physically. Killian is being kind, to us all, we are trained to be tough, but there is no point in forcing us to partake in unnecessary exertions. We sleep here for the night, and we will be rested for anything we face tomorrow.

Im always ready! Just let tomorrow attack! Vicktor exclaimed, taking a mock-heroic pose.

Arabella giggled and pushed him over. I doubt tomorrow is going to attack such a brave hero, but I just might.

Vicktor stuck his tongue out at the chipmunk, rolled backwards onto his feet and waved out a hand. You will have to catch me first!

-

Muan watched over the slumbering group, the insect that was meant to be keeping watch was about as alert as a coconut, so he was having no difficulty concealing himself. The malicious contraption filed off a report message to the General, and then opened an executable file in his personal memory. Muan enjoyed playing solitaire, it honed his probability crunching and AI subroutines. Also it stopped the terrible boredom he suffered when watching organics, they were just so dull.

Killian pulled the threadbare blanket further up over his body, and allowed himself a small grin.

~TBC

The Cohort Saga, Part III-Tragedy
-
Chapter 3-Confrontations
-
The Cohort was on the move again, this time Vicktor was at the head, Crimson was guarding the rear as usual, and Killian appeared to be discussing something with Gizmo. Vicktor was totally preoccupied with navigation, so Arabella was talking to Carmen.

You really like Vicktor, dont you Bella? Carmen asked of her.

What? Me? Like that mangy old rat catcher? Dont make me laugh. Arabella replied a little too scornfully.

Oh come on. Its hard to keep secrets from a telepath at the best of times, but you are just making it plain easy to see.

Have you been sneaking around in my brain, Carmen?

No need, its written all over your face.

Damn. Ill have to fix that. Arabella smirked slightly, What about you? You seem to be spending a lot of time with Darkwolfe.

Carmen looked a little shocked, and irritated. He has been teaching me, that is all.

Of course it is

Carmen blinked, and shook her head. Its not like that, it cant actually be like that, even if I had wanted it. Crimson is soemotionally barren, you cant get close to him, you dont want to. He has been teaching me, and nothing more. Carmen sighed Even if Crimson was the perfect male, It still wouldnt work. Not in the world Robotnik made, there is just too much hate, to have such a good thing as love, then to have it inevitably wrenched away. It could not subject myself to that.

Arabella looked at the tall ferret while the walked in silence for a moment, then spoke again. You really believe that, dont you? That if you are too happy, everything will just go wrong? I dont think I could live with that kind of outlook, what on Mobius ever made you so morbid?

Carmen looked at the floor in front of them, then replied in a soft, hushed voice. I have seen so many horrific terrors, Arabella. Not the terrors of the past, or the persecution of the present. But the absolute horror of things that will almost certainly come to pass. To have hope in the desert of the hopeless, Bella, is the path to self-destruction.

The two spoke no more on the entire journey.

-

That took longer than I thought. Vicktor complained, scratching his chin. I am sure that the entrance was closer than that.

That is because you led us in circles for three and a half hours you furry failure. Arabella scorned.

Vicktor stuck his tongue out at her, and then turned back to the impressive view in front of them. Before the cohort was what looked like an ornate rusted lamppost, leaning slightly to against the rocky wall of the cave. Easily three times as tall as Dekker, and just as wide, the massive contrivance appeared to be slightly yellow under all the rust, and topped with a heavily corroded sphere. The whole object hinted at a past Mobius, lost to Robotniks malicious grip.

What is that? Black asked, looking up, the monolith was more than 20 times his own height.

Not a clue, but it marks the entrance to the hideout. Vicktor replied, walking over toward a chunk of rust on the wall, which might once have been a light.

Black walked up to the great lamppost, and touched it gingerly with one of his hands. As soon as he had laid a finger upon the rusted metal surface, the little ant leapt back screaming, clutching at his head with all four hands. Dekker rushed forward and scooped up his diminutive friend in one huge paw, the ant was curled up in it, shivering violently and muttering No, not you, never again over and over under his breath.

Most of the cohort stared in amazement at first the prone ant, then the lamppost. Eventually, Gizmo reached forward, and gingerly touched the device, brushing his gloved paw across its surface. He looked a little confused, then turned and said; It is just metal guys. So whats up with Black?

Arabella looked to Carmen, who nodded. Carmen walked up to the post, and placed one of her own paws upon it, then opened her mind. She could sense the busy minds of those around her, the sharp hot mind of black, feeling like it had been burned, the inquisitive minds of the cohort, the calculating mind of their leader, the closed mind of CrimsonShe stopped herself before she was tempted to pry into his feelings, and turned back to the task at hand. Focusing on the post, she could sensenothing. The post had no kind of mind, it was just a machine. But there was something beyond the post, not behind it, but beyond it in a way incomprehensible to a three-dimensional mind. There were faint identities, which felt like people, slaves. But there were other entities among them, empty shells of minds, with no thought, just receiving and carrying out orders fromsomething else. Something huge, a mind that felt a zone wide, an all powerful, super efficient mind, using individuals as neurons, and it could sense her presence as well.

Carmen stepped back and gasped, quickly closing her mind again. She turned round and faced Killian. What is that thing!? She hissed at him.

Killian gazed up at the device, and rubbed the scar on his back. That is what was once known as a star post. Legends say many things about their origin, all contradictory, but they are powerful artifacts indeed. He sighed With enough speed, or energy, a person could activate one. The ball on top, He pointed, would open a gateway to another place. With the right conditions, it could take you to another zone, to the other side of Mobius, even to another dimension. This one however, is rusted and broken beyond repair. Only echoes of its former glory remain. Now, unless there are any more questions, if you would continue Vicktor.

Certainly, The tom stood up, turned the light through 180 degrees, and stood back as a section of cave wall opened up. He bowed and twirled one paw. After you. He said, smearing mock chivalry all over his voice.

Is Black ok to go on? Killian asked of Dekker. The huge bear looked at his companion, who was beginning to recover his composure, and nodded. With that the Cohort entered their new home.

-

General Cizin stalked soundlessly across the rock floor of the cave, his metal talons sinking into the ground, robe billowing out behind him. He reached the star post that the Cohort had stood in front of not long before, and raked his hand down it, leaving sizable gouges in the metal. He looked at his hand, then turned to the squad of combat robots that lingered around the cave like bad statues. Where is Muan? he spoke in a voice like the release of a steam valve.

A robot stepped forward, and knelt before him Unknown, great general. Unit Muan has not report since this rat hole was discovered.

Pity, the elongated robot sighed, He will miss all the fun. What is the status of this little hidey-hole?

A robot from the edge of the cave saluted, Heat signatures of seven mammalian and one insectoid mobian detected, General.

Cizin grinned. The kneeling robot before him offered an overly large rectangular weapon to him. I would be honored if you used my cannon, General.

The metallic warrior waved a hand. That will not be necessary unit sigma, an impossibly sharp looking blade folded out of his arm. I feel such an occasion, requires the personal touch. The assembled robots followed his lead, and drew bladed weapons of their own. Now, my minions, to the slaughter! He let out a resonating cackle, as the group ran headlong into the tunnel leading to the HQ.

-

Muan was lost, and confused. He wasnt technically able to be lost, yet he had become so anyway, and this had annoyed him greatly.

-

Implausible! spat out the General, contemptuously, dolls, manikins, fakes! Which of you defective sons of blenders fell for this, childs play?

A combat robot reluctantly edged forward, and fell to his knees before the silver sadist. Forgive me oh great general. The replicas gave biometric signals identical to those of an organic.

General Cizin glared down at the prone robot. He whispered in a synthetic voice that carried all the malice and doom of a knife being sharpened, or gallows being polished. Do these toys look like organics to you unit omicron? He waved a realistic looking doll of Gizmo in front of the bot. The doll was pulling a face.

Not on close inspection great General. But from a distance they were indistinguishable.

Cizin examined the doll. I guess you may be right, unit omicron. The bot sighed. However, if you had been paying attention, there are several discrepancies in the electromagnetic output of these replicas, visible at any distance. He crushed the doll in his hand, and placed his foot on the robots shoulder. You really should have paid more attention. He closed the talons on his foot, and flicked his leg forward while doing so, faster than noticeable to the on looking bots. The unfortunate omicron was flung against the far wall of the cavern, his arm being half torn, half sliced off in the process. Dropping the arm, Cizin strode across the cave, to where omicron was now embedded into the wall. He drew back one arm, and thrust it forward into the chest plate of the bot, driving his claws into the metal. Holding omicron in the air with one arm, the evil General grinned; You obviously need reprogramming. A series of sharp needles unfolded from his forearm, and jabbed into the broken droid, then retracted back into their place inside the generals forearm. Omicron was dropped to the floor, and lay there in a fetal position, after a few seconds, its vocal synthesizers began to make unearthly sounds, like a computer screaming, the motors and servos within every synthetic muscle began to convulse and move randomly, the fluids in every part of the machine began to boil and ignite, and the precious code that told omicron where to go, what to do, who he was, was being mutated and deleted, with methodical precision, so not to destroy him totally, but to cause as much chaos as possible. Truly omicron was suffering the most pain a robot could. Cizin stood and watched as the droid writhed more and more violently, its casing changing from a dull blue, to and incandescent white, as the robot began to overheat, and melt down to a puddle of superheated steel. Cizin turned to face the other Combat robots, Anyone else want a lesson in paying attention? No? Pity. He straightened his robe, and stalked toward the exit, on his way, he passed a Killian doll, who was sitting on a chair, happily make an obscene gesture with its paw, which was cleverly following the motion in the room. The General glanced at the manikin, and swung round with his sword extended, slicing the paw off.

Ah, I guess that means you have arrived, General. The mock-Killian spoke, once its paw had been severed. The Generals eyes glowed a burning red at the voice. The Cohort of the blue blur is not here right now, but if you leave a message after the beep, we will make sure to get back to you.

After the beep?

By the way, you might hear a slight ringing in your audio sensors. The Killian doll finished, letting of a long beeping sound. Then there was a much louder long explosion, as the five tons of high explosive secreted around the hideout all detonated simultaneously, annihilating the HQ.

-

Muan was now on the verge of being angry. His subroutines hadnt included many emotions, and anger was not one of the selected few. But his AI was considering creating an anger subroutine now, because being lost despite being equipped with the best navigation systems know to Mobius, deserved a feeling more powerful than being mildly ticked off. Those rebels had left their hideout only minutes after entering it, and seconds after he had relayed his position to General Cizin. With no time to send another message, he followed the Cohort into this maze of tunnels and potholes. And now he had lost them. He could not report to the General that he had lost his quarry, so he had simply carried on, attempting to track them through the winding catacombs.

He had almost resigned himself to fate, and given himself to the mercy of the General, when he entered a cave many time larger than the ones he had been traversing previously. At the far side of the cavern stood the organic designated Black Gamma Tau Male 31200647 waving one arm at Muan, other three folded across his chest, a cocky grin plastered over his tiny face.

I begun to give up hope that you were gonna catch us Black Beauty. The ant shouted.

Muan scanned the insect stood before him, and cross-referenced his database of known mobians. He received information on the ants name, age, species, height, weight, even background information on his history. Taking the relevant information, Muan evaluated the risk that the diminutive freedom fighter presented, which happened to be absolutely no risk whatsoever.

Where are your accomplices, insect? Demanded Muan, as he strode toward Black.

They are around here somewhere, youll just have to find them.

Then you are of no use to me. Decided Muan, and brought his foot down upon Blacks head.

The ant caught the foot with two of his arms, and fell to his knees, other limbs supporting him as he held the foot mere millimeters from crushing him. Ok, thats enough. A little help please Dekker! Black grunted.

Muan looked up and saw a large bear, nearing his own size, drop from an alcove in the ceiling and plant a bunched up paw directly into his chest. Stepping backwards slightly, he analyzed this new threat, and despite the bears strength, found no reason to worry.

Black climbed up onto Dekkers shoulder, and gave a whistle, and the Cohort emerged from the shadows of the cave, completely surrounding Muan. Muan glanced round at the rebels, and attempted to gather as much tactical information as possible. He recognized Gizmolithian Rubicant, meerkat from the never lake, low risk. Dekker Oak, bear from the mystic cave, low risk. Black Gamma Tau Male 31200647, ant from unknown areas, negligible risk. Carmen Alabaster, ferret from the slave farms, moderate-low risk. Arabella Demagogic, chipmunk from hilltop, moderate-low risk. Vicktor, surname unknown, from unknown areas, moderate risk. Crimson Darkwolfe, wolf from unknown areas, excessive file damage prevents further information, consider high risk. There was also another figure that he did not recognize, nor could his scanners place an age or species upon. Muan prepared himself for combat, clenching his preposterously oversized fists, and diverting all power reserved for stealth capabilities into motor functions.

Thank you for leading your glorious leader into a trap, rusty. Now we, have no need for you. Black said, drawing four tiny swords.

Muan lunged forward with his left arm suddenly and without warning, grabbing hold of Dekkers shoulder, and Black. Gizmo activated a cutting torch on his arm, and blasted forward using a jetpack placed upon his back. Muan twisted his grip slightly, and there was a sickening crunch, as Dekkers shoulder bones were snapped into pieces. Stepping back on his left foot, Muan withdrew his arm, still holding Black, and met Gizmos assault with a backhand to the nose, grabbing hold of his foot with a smaller manipulative arm near his waist. Simultaneously he placed a vicious uppercut squarely under the chin of the big bear, lifting him of his feet and knocking him instantly unconscious.

Tossing Black, who had himself been forced into unconsciousness, aside, he took the bleeding gizmo by his mechanical arm, and crushed it, obviously causing Gizmo great pain. Vicktor, Carmen and Arabella were reluctant to fire whilst their friend was still near, but Crimson took the initiative and dashed toward the fierce robot, wielding is immense double sword. Muan turned as Crimson can near, sidestepping through 360 degrees and hitting him round the head with Gizmo, sending the wolf head over heels, and skidding along the cave floor.

He dropped the now incapacitated Gizmo onto the hard stone, and pulled two automatic pistols from his chest compartment, firing at Carmen, Vicktor and Arabella. Vicktors experience in firefights and his lightning fast reflexes get him out of harms way, as did Carmens precognitive skills, but Arabella took two shots through her shoulder, and fell to the floor. Vicktor hissed in fury, and dropped his pistols to the floor, drawing his swords. He charged toward the robot, dodging a maelstrom of bullets, only to be caught by Muans swinging leg meeting his chin. The force caused Vicktor spin in the air, dropping his swords.

Carmen caught a sword as it flew past her, and prepared to attack, as Muan stepped upon Vicktors leg, crushing it with his weight. The robot leapt backwards as Carman brought the electrical edged blade down in a swinging arc where he had previously been. Charging again, Carmen attacked the black beast again and again, each time to have him effortlessly evade the blow, but he could not strike her either, no matter how fast he moved, she saw the danger coming. He heard a snarl from above him, and saw Crimson jumping off a wall, flying headlong toward him, one paw outstretched. Muan crouched, and unfolded the pitch black metal wings placed upon his back, he took of leaving his battle with Carmen in the dust as Crimson let forth a blast of fire, melting the rock where Muans feet had been. He met the wolf in mid air and brought his fist into the cream fur of Crimsons stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

Turning in midair, he flung Crimson at the albino ferret beneath him, knocking her off her feet. He landed beside her as she rolled away, and then lunged again, adjusting his technique to be spontaneous, improbable and almost arbitrary. Carmen could not fight back against this, and was quickly brought to her knees. Muan drew back a fist, to crush the ferrets skull, but found his attack blocked by a shining broadsword, held in one paw by Killian, the gray figure unidentifiable by Muans scanners and database. Still unknowledgeable of the risk factor behind this stranger, Muan turned to face him, and slashed forward with his huge claws.

The venerable wolf, calmly blocked the blow, and punched Muan in his visual sensors, severely denting one. The robot reeled, and Killian took the advantage, leaping onto his chest plate, bringing his sword down towards Muans head. The robot caught the blade between his palms, and twisted sideways suddenly, tossing Killian to the ground, and fling the sword away to the cave wall, where it stuck into the rock. Muan brought round his fist in a haymaker, but Killian simply held the ton of pushing power still with his paws. Muan brought his other fist round entrapping the wolf between his fists, forcing him to hold both arms. He reached out with his foot and grasped Killians tail with his talons, released the pressure his arms were creating, and threw the wolf as hard as possible.

Killian twisted in the air, and landed with his feet firmly on the rock wall, beside his sword, drawing it from the rock, he pushed himself off with a blast of air. Rolling through the air, he tucked himself into o ball, Muan attempted to predict the position of the short wolf, but failed, as he landed feet first upon Muans chest, his sword driven clear through the torso. The combat specialist robot sniggered, and sent an electrical current through the blade. Killian let out a scream, the fell to the floor with a smell of burning fur.

Muan was about to remove the sword from his chest, when his eye sensor went completely black. Arabella, had pulled herself to her feet, and was firing shots at Muans head. Muan drew his pistol again, and shot the chipmunk through the arm, causing her to drop her weapon. He advanced upon her, with the intention of making her suffer for the loss of his eye. Arabella, grinned and pulled a handful of mines from her pockets, and tossed them half-heartedly toward him. Once the mines left her paws, they were instantly attracted to Muans metal surface, and stuck all over him like fridge magnets. Then exploded.

Take that, you piece of recycled scrap. Arabella sighed, collapsing back onto the floor.

Muan dusted the soot of his armor, and then stepped through the smoke, picking the surprised chipmunk up his one arm. He stared at her with his one working optical sensor. Arabella stared back into the face of Muan, the Generals harbinger of death, and said her silent goodbyes to the world. Muan raised his free hand, and punched Arabella into the floor, crushing her spine with a sickening crack. Muan allowed a satisfaction algorithm to execute. He had defeated these pathetic rebels that had been a thorn in the Generals side for so long. All he had to do now was mop up. He turned round to survey the task ahead of him, and found a member of the Cohort standing, ready to fight.

Crimson was growling almost bestially, the normally distant intelligence of his eyes replaced with a burning hot red intensity, his fur was standing on end, crackling with chaos energy, his sword thrown aside, so he could fight with his paws. No longer the tactical fighter, and enigmatic sorcerer. The Darkwolfe was mightily pissed off.

Muan was a little surprised, the wolf should be lying incapacitated on the floor, but he was about to attempt to fight Muan alone, where the combined efforts of him and his friends had failed. The death bringer chuckled slightly, and raised his fists, unfolded his wings, and rushed toward the wolf and an intense speed. Crimson waited until the machine was nearly upon him, and then lashed out with his paws, sending the seemingly unstoppable robot careening into the floor. Not wasting any time, Crimson leapt after him, and tore off his wings with his bare paws.

Muan performed a handspring onto his feet, dislodging Crimson from his back, and slashed at the wolfs head with his claws, only to have his arm frozen in place and shattered by a blast of sub-zero air. Crimson was glowing a faint orange now, the chaos colour of living creatures, his natural functions enhanced a hundredfold. Muan fell back onto his remaining arm and aimed a double kick at Crimson with enough power to shatter diamonds, and drew his talons to a point. But Crimson simply jumped onto the legs and ran up them, diving headlong at Muans face; latching his powerful jaws round the robots metallic neck. Narrowing his eyes as oil squirted over his face in a surreal semblance of blood, he closed his jaws, snapping the robots head right off.

Crimson stepped back, as the leaking wreck of Muan lay on the floor, and spat oil out of his mouth. He blinked, looked at his oil-stained paws, and fell slowly to the floor in one fluid motion.

-

Vicktor tried to stand, he had just witnessed the defeat of Muan, but that did not interest him, not now. Unable to stand upon his crushed leg, he crawled over to the place where Arabella fell, tears streaming down his furry features. He had to hope, to pray that she was somehow alive. But it was hopeless. There was no mistaking the fact that she was dead, no living persons spine formed that shape. As he lay there, holding her broken body close to his, unable to hide his sorrow, Carmen, the only other member of the Cohort conscious found the strength to stand. She limped over to where the distraught feline lay sobbing, and placed her paw on his shoulder in a fruitless attempt to console him. But he was beyond reach. Instead she turned her attention to Crimson, who was now sleeping so peacefully; he looked like a newborn cub, such a harsh contrast from the raging warrior that had destroyed Muan, that they almost seemed to be two separate people.

-

Arabella was peaceful now, all the trauma Robotnik had put upon her life, and all the confusion found in day-to-day living, all of it simply drifted away. All that remained now was her own mind, her memories, though they hurt no more. She looked down upon Vicktor cradling the flesh that she had lived in for so long, and felt a pang of sorrow for him. What will happen to them? She thought to herself.

They will live. Came the answer, from where, she did not know.

Ah. She sighed, and let her spirit become one with the chaos once more.

-

From the smoldering wreckage of the HQ, General Cizin stood up, shifting the semi-molten rock aside. The explosion had left some soot upon his armor, this did not please him. The Cohort would pay for that.

Striding over the red-hot pieces of scrap that had been his combat unit, General Cizin headed back to his citadel.

~TBC

The Cohort Saga, Part III-Tragedy
-
Chapter IV-Memories
-

Vicktor was sat in another of the Cohorts many hideouts, his broken leg, encased in a cast, rested upon a table. In his paws he held a piece of copper wire, clutching it tightly, as if he would lose his very life if he let go. His eyes were closed tightly, preventing the tears that they contained from spilling down his face. The wire he was holding came from the detonator of a remote mine; it was all that Vicktor had left of Arabella, the one whom he had loved, so cruelly taken from him by the robot Muan. And now he could not even avenge her, denied that right by that over-powered irritancy Crimson.

Vicktor sat in silence for several minutes, contemplating the loss of Arabella, before Killian entered the room, and placed a paw upon his shoulder. Each of Killians arms were covered in bandages up to the elbow, protecting the burns they suffered during the fight with Muan. Vicktor turned to look into the wolfs solitary piercing blue eye, and stood solemnly. With a grave countenance, the two left the room.

-

The Cohort were assembled in a maudlin silence, in a soft-soiled cavern near an under-ground reservoir. Each of them bore their own wounds from the battle with Muan, Dekker had his shoulder in a sling, and his jaw wired shut. Blacks exoskeleton was severely cracked, and secured with wire in three places. Gizmo had his nose set in a series of bandages, and his arm was completely missing, presumably awaiting repair. Carmen was covered in an uneven placement of small wound dressings. Vicktor and Killian had their respective leg and arm coverings. Crimson wasnt even there, he was still asleep, according to Killian, Crimsons extensive use of Chaos energy to bring about the defeat of Muan had drained his resources, and he needed to recover. But both Carmen and Vicktor were unsure whether or not that was the whole truth. The personal wounds they suffered however, paled in their minds when compared to the loss that they faced collectively. Before them, on a small, unlit pyre, was the body of Arabella Demagogic. Her arms were crossed over her chest, her face showing a tranquil expression, rarely seen during her life. If it were not for the eerie stillness, she could have been mistaken to be sleeping.

Killian stepped toward the pyre, and turned to address his comrades. My friends, He began, a heavy burden in his voice. Once again, the dark overlord Robotnik has taken away some dear to us. Each member of the Cohort had suffered personal loss before, but for someone inside the Cohort to die, reminded them all of their own mortality. Arabella suffered much hardship during her life, every day was to her, a constant struggle against oppression. She was a born freedom fighter, and fought till the end. Killians words were a simple recollection of the chipmunks life, but they were not empty. His voice intoned greater feelings of remembrance, of sorrow, of the will to go on, then any words ever could. She is not the first of my comrades in arms, nor is she the first of my friends, to be so cruelly taken. And I do not wish to scare any of you, but I doubt she will be the last. Killian rubbed again the scar on his back, as he tended to do when his memories plagued him.

It doesnt mean much now, but I award Arabella Demagogic, the martyrs honor. He picked a small box up from off the floor, and opened it with some ceremony. Wincing as he placed his tender paws upon the metal, he removed a small metallic object from the box. It looked like a plain ring of metal, with highly detailed wings emerging from opposite sides. The object itself was very plain, but it marked the highest honor that Killian could convey through an inanimate object. He ceremoniously placed the ring upon Arabellas chest, and folded her hands across it. May she rest in peace, knowing that she brought freedom to at least some, of the many oppressed. And let us not forget her, when we continue to make her dream, and ours, a reality. Goodbye, Arabella.

Each member of the Cohort stepped up to pay their respects in turn, with a simple gesture, or one or two meaningful words. Last of all, Vicktor approached the pyre, and stood before his lost love. Holding back the tears, he bowed his head in remembrance of the hotheaded rodent. After two minutes of mournful silence, he raised his head again, and look in Killians direction, the gray wolf nodded, in a signal to the tom. Vicktor took a match from a pouch on his belt, and struck it against the edge of the pyre. With a series of solemn movements, he lit the pyre, his pain for the one he lost compelling him to overcome his fears, at least for one moment. With grave looks upon their faces, the Cohort gazed on, as the flames engulfed Arabellas still form. They stood in silence as the blaze reduced the pyre, and their friends lifeless body, to ashes and dust, and then returned to the HQ.

-

Killian was seated in the kitchen of the hideout, eating a mint flavored sweet. For him, it was comfort food. He had lost so many of friends in the war against Robotnik now. And every loss pained him greatly. He had lead so many people to their deaths, each one placing full trust in his leadership. He was responsible for each person under his command, so he was responsible for their deaths. At least in his eyes he was. Arabella was now nothing more, than another reason to destroy Robotnik.

-

Gizmo chewed on a toothpick while he worked on his arm. It was a habit he had developed whenever he was stressed, or upset. He poured himself into the task of repairing his damaged arm, making improvements here and there, concentrating solely on his task, and not on his misgivings. But even such an important task could not distract him fully. If he had only been able to get the electromagnetic pulse function working, he would have been able to save her. It was his fault. At least, in his eyes it was. He picked up the arm, and held it near his shoulder, the lose wires on the end of the arm responded the metal socket on his shoulder, and the arm reattached itself. Gizmo wiped a tear from his eye with his newly repaired hand.

-

Black placed several rapid punches into the training dummy placed in one side cave of the hideout, the fell back to the floor. If was bigger, then maybe he would be able to do some good for the Cohort, instead of being nothing but a distraction. Sure being able to lift twenty times ones own weight was impressive, but it didnt mean a lot when your own weight was practically nothing. If he had been bigger, then maybe he could have stopped Muan himself. Dekker walked up behind the ant, the normally amiable smile gone from his face, replaced by a look of concentration. The huge bear drew back a paw, and let fly with a devastating punch that ripped a hole in the punch bag, which proceeded to fall in half onto the floor. The massive bear sat down, and crossed his legs, and his insect friend ran up onto his shoulder, taking a seat. They both stared at the broken punch bag for a second, and Black could tell that his oversized buddy was thinking exactly the same thoughts as he was. If only he had have been stronger, Arabella would be alive. Black gazed at the broken punch bag some more, and decided that he had to put his sorrow behind him. Ok, so now what do we do? He asked of his friend, since the punch bag was beyond use.

Dekker shrugged, his mind was still on those lost during the war.

-

Carmen hadnt known Arabella as long as the other members of the Cohort, but she had known her long enough for her death to leave a gaping wound in her own heart. But Carmen had long ago learned to cope with loss. She didnt play the battle with Muan through in her head, wishing that there were something she could do. Because there wasnt. It didnt make it hurt any less though.

-

Crimson was still asleep, the loss of Arabella had been perceived by his mind though, even through the haze of unconsciousness. He was saddened by the loss of a comrade, but he would overcome it. To Crimson, Arabella was simply another victim among many, and would not distract him any further. Memories only led to despair.

-

Vicktor felt like someone had wrenched his heart out of his chest, and burned it in front of him. He had lost so much under Robotniks rule, his family, his friends, and his business. But none had hurt so much as this. It felt like he was dying from within. He couldnt stay in this place anymore, everything reminded him of his lost love.

He rose slowly, and entered the room where Killian was sat eating his sweets. Vicktor approached the wolf, throwing what appeared to be a broken knife blade upon the table in front of him. Killian picked up the blade, and stood to face Vicktor. What are you doing? he asked.

You know exactly what that means I am doing Killian. I am leaving. The tom replied, in a clear even voice.

Killian was taken aback. But why?

When I first met you, dog. You saved my life, you earned a debt. I repaid that debt in the form of a place for you to live. But you tried to convince me to join you in your crazy rebellion. Which if you remember, I wanted no part in. Killian nodded. You let me be for a while, but you kept dropping hints about joining you, knowing you could only push me so far. I made a mistake in challenging you Killian, and as such you have owned my life for the past ten years, as is feline tradition. But I return my broken blade to you now Killian. I have died on the inside. The life you owned, is no more, so I dont work for you anymore.

Killian picked up the blade, and stared at it, and then at Vicktors emerald green eyes. He nodded, with great sorrow in his movements. Be free then Vicktor. He said, in a hollow voice.

The ginger tom, picked up his weapons, and left the Cohort of the blue blur.

He will be back, Killian said to himself. Once he has sorted out his head. The gray wolf sat down again, and took another piece of mint candy.

~End of Part III

The Cohort Saga, Part IV-Gizmo's Tale
-
Chapter I-Friends
-

Under the oppression of the overlord Robotnik, life as a mobian had very few redeeming features. With next to no personal rights or belongings, often the best, and only, thing in a mobians life was their family and friends, and even this was denied to some.

In his workshop in Cohort HQ, Gizmo was working hard on his latest project. The intense concentration was apparent on his face as he bent over his workbench, chewing another series of dents into the small wooden toothpick that helped him concentrate whilst he was working. Loud music was blaring out of an entertainment system he had created to read the data disks from before Robotniks rule, the music was old, but under the overlords oppression, all creative arts had been lost, so it was all he had. Besides he rather liked it.

He blinked at the project on the desk before him, and decided that he was done. He lifted his mechanical arm away from the workbench, and retracted the small pen that was protruding from the end of his index finger. He took the toothpick out of his mouth, and placed it inside the breast pocket of his blue shirt. For the last six years, the Cohort of the Blue Blur had been Gizmos closest friends, they were almost like a family. But there was no way he was going to forget his own family. He picked the letter to his parents up from his desk, folded it neatly, and placed it inside a small draw on a mirrored metal orb. He opened a panel and tapped a couple of buttons, and the orb shuddered into life, a very small but powerful Ionic propulsion system lifted the sphere into the air, and powered it straight out of the cave. Carmen entered the workshop as the orb left, giving it a slight quizzical look as it passed her, ducking so that she wouldnt bang her head on the low ceiling. She said something to the little meerkat, but her voice was inaudible above the music he was listening to. Gizmo looked at her with a questioning look on his face.

Turn the music down Giz! Carmens voice rang in his head. Gizmos eyes widened with shock. He hadnt expected that at all, he knew Carmen had telepathic powers, but usually she kept her psychic abilities quiet, to have her speak directly into his mind was very unusual. He turned off the data disk player and looked over to Carmen.

What was that thing? Carmen inquired.

A messenger, Gizmo replied, fiddling with a piece of wiring. I like to send messages to my family back at Never Lake occasionally, tell them how I am doing.

You still have a family Giz?

Yeah, and I love them dearly. He sighed. But unless somebody fights, they are never going to live freely, without the oppression of Robotnik. He scratched his nose. We arent all outcasts and orphans you know.

Carmen smiled at the little meerkats irrepressible spirit. Come on Giz, Killian wants us all for a conference meeting. With that, the two left the workshop to find what lay ahead of them.

-

The Cohort was seated around a circular table in the main cavern of their HQ, waiting for Killian to brief them, and avoiding looking at the empty seats that Arabella, and Vicktor, had previously filled. Killian stood up, and placed both paws upon the table, wincing slightly, they were obviously still tender from the battle with Muan two months ago. The battle that had almost destroyed them all, and had cost Arabella her life. The time for mourning is over. Killian stated, bluntly. I know Arabellas loss is painful for all of us, but we have to move on, for the sake of Mobius. It has been far to long, we have to remind the General that we are still alive and kicking. The Cohort all nodded, but Gizmo winced at their leaders poor choice of words. He has a regular shipment of outgoing minerals every two weeks, and we are going to destroy it.

Havent we hit that shipment before? Black asked, a little bemused. Wont the general have it heavily guarded?

Killian nodded. Its quite possible, but that doesnt matter, we arent going to take any risks in this strike. We go in, make ourselves known, and high tail it out of there. It doesnt matter if we cant even destroy one transporter, it is the principle of the thing. He sat down, and folded his paws. Gizmo, is the new interference runner working yet?

Sure is, boss. Gizmo nodded.

Good. We need our most able bodies for a mission, Black, can you and Dekker handle the interference?

Dekkers arm was still in a cast, while his shoulder bone healed, and Blacks exoskeleton was still in a bad way. Black was about to reply when Crimson spoke up. I will manage the interference. Killian look at the red wolf with a queried expression. Dekkers strength is still great, despite only being able to use one arm, he will be needed on the mission, and Blacks not anywhere near as injured as he makes out to be. Black shot Crimson an angry glance. My body however is still recovering from the excessive use of chaos magic against Muan. I would be no help in a battle. Everyone seated around the table stared at him blankly; they had never heard Crimson admit to any sort of weakness before. Of course, they had never even noticed any sort of weakness in Crimson before. Crimson looked at their flabbergasted faces. What? he asked.

Nothing. Killian answered, Okay, so Crimson will run interference, everyone else, is with me. We strike tomorrow, seeing as thats when the shipment is.

-

Gizmo placed the soldering iron back on his workbench; he had been adjusting his arm. Crimson entered the room, his ears flattened against the ceiling. Gizmo stood to greet him, having plenty of headroom himself. Do you need me to go over anything before I leave? He asked. Crimsons stern look was enough of a reply. Riiiight, of course not. He offered Crimson his chair, and the lupine warrior took it, moving slowly, as if his joints all had arthritis. He had not been exaggerating when he said his body hadnt recovered fully, by the way the wolf was moving, all his muscles had been burned from the inside.

-

Gizmo tapped a button on the side of his goggles, switching them to a light amplification setting. He could see the convoy on the road, and it looked like the General had assigned far more guard robots then their previous encounters. He tapped the other side of his goggles, and the focus zoomed in on the convoy. He counted the guard bots, and found that not only were the resistance members vastly outnumbered, but five or so combat robots had been added to the escort. He turned to face Killian, Carmen, Black and Dekker.

What are we looking at here, Giz? Killian asked.

Certain doom? Black interjected.

There is about 15 bots for each one of us boss, and then some combat bots for good measure.

Ah, certain doom then.

Killian shot Black a glance, then turned to Carmen, who nodded, confirming Gizmos information. We strike them from the rear, attack until we no longer have the element of surprise, and then retreat. No heroics, if you need to get out of the fight, get out of the fight. He withdrew his sword from its resting place upon his shoulder belt. Any questions?

The group shook their heads.

Then we wait. The gray wolf commanded.

They waited by the side of the road, as they had done many times before. Gizmo noticed that Killian appeared to be fiddling with one of the pockets on his belt. He hadnt really noticed that Killian even wore the belts before, but when he thought about it, Killian had always worn them. The wolf removed a small silver ball from the pocket, which Gizmo recognized to be a smoke grenade. There must be all sorts of stuff in those pockets. Gizmo reasoned.

As soon as the convoy passed by them, Killian tossed the smoke bomb into the midst of the vanguard, enveloping the robots in a thick smoke. Dekker followed this up by tossing a sizable rock into the smoke, which was followed by the unmistakable crunch of mechanoids decapitation. Gizmo tapped a button on his forearm, and a small laser folded out. Normally the laser was only used for cutting pieces of metal when he was working, but in this case, he would make an acceptation.

The group charged toward the smoke cloud in the usual manner. But time the outcome was different. Before the group could even get close to the robots, there was a sound like a jet engine, and the smoke was blown away, revealing the combat robots, toting fan accessories. Ah bum. Gizmo sighed, turning to Carmen. How come we didnt see that one coming?

I did, I just hoped they didnt The ferret replied.

Rebel units, you are charged with crimes against Lord Robotnik, surrender for your execution or be terminated. Droned out one of the guard bots.

Wow, what choices. Black said with mock glee. Carmen on the other hand opened fire with her machine gun, and dived sideways.

The blast from the gun struck a few of the robots, but only one was damaged badly enough by the bullets to be put out of commission. The Cohort scattered to avoid the ensuing hail of fire from the mechanized guards. Gizmo managed to maintain laser fire upon on of the robots long enough to remove its anti-gravity servos, sending it crashing to the ground. He took aim at a second robot, but before he could even begin to heat the metal casing, his cutting laser was struck by a bullet and broken clean off.

Ah, nuts. Cried the little meerkat, and rushed for cover. The ground behind him erupting in a spray of dirt as bullets hit it. Reaching a rock, he quickly hid behind it, breathing heavily as the robots fire gouged chunks from its surface. He glanced around hoping to catch sight of his team. Dekker had also found a rock to hide his sizable bulk behind, but Black was not with him. Risking a quick look around his rock, he spotted Black using his small size to his advantage, avoiding the fire from the enemys weapons quite easily; he had reached the forefront of the offending minions.

The small insect jumped and dodged as the guard bot before him attempted close quarter combat, and managed to make his way inside the chassis of the robot, attacking the circuitry from within until the bot fell to the floor. Black picked himself up from the wreckage, and prepared to move on to his next target, but was swatted by a combat robot, and knocked several meters through the air, not to mention into unconsciousness.

Killian was attacking the droids with is usual vigor, leaping from place to place, cleaving robots with his broadsword. He shouted over the ruckus in a voice of surprising quality: Fall back! We cant fight them all! he shouted, destroying another guard bot. He was taking down a fair few, but without the additional combat strength of Crimson and Vicktor, without the benefit of surprise or cover, and with the added hindrance of the powerful combat robots, it was a losing battle.

Carmen was holding her own against the guard bots, anticipating their moves, being where they were not, attacking were they were. But the Combat Robots were another matter entirely; within seconds they had adapted their combat styles against her to be totally unpredictable, and were gaining the upper hand.

Ducking as another round of bullet fire went over his head, and through his hair, he looked over to Dekker, only to see a guard bot approaching the bulky bears hiding spot. Gizmo opened his mouth to yell out a warning to his friend, but found a metallic hand clasped over his muzzle, and felt himself be lifted into the air by a guard bot. Dekker was in the same position, but unlike Gizmo, he could do something about his predicament. The large bear put his strength into play, and tore the guards arm out of its socket, only to find a multitude of weapon barrels pointed in his direction, and Carmen and Gizmo tightly secured by combat robots.

Remaining Rebel Units; surrender now to face execution after a fair trial by General Cizin Announced a robot.

Hah! Fair trial, thats likely Carmen began, but was silenced by a blow from her captor.

If you do not comply, Captive units will forego the right to a Trial, and will be eliminated immediately. Exclaimed the robot, raising a gun to Carmens head.

Killians face dropped, realizing that he had finally overstepped his boundaries in the worst way. He lowered his sword, in surrender to his fate. Gizmo watched as the wolf who had led him through the hardships of life for the past 8 years, allow his fate to be cast to the wind. It was obvious that neither Killian, Dekker or Carmen was in a position to do anything to help the situation, and Black was still unconscious.

It was up to him now.

Concentrating hard, he activated the newest upgrade on his arm, panels of metal in his upper bicep folding away, revealing a mass of exposed wires, with what on first glance appeared to be a glowing marble in the center of them. I hope this works he thought to himself. The marble began to pulse with a blue so close to the ultraviolet spectrum, that it hurt to look at it.

The captive furries winced slightly, as their fur stood on end for a split second, then watched in amazement as the robots dropped to the floor, nothing more than pieces of scrap metal. Every circuit in their metallic shells fried to a crisp, end their psuedo-lives.

Gizmo smiled with joy at the success of his EMP wave, and attempted to jump for joy, only to find that his arm was hanging dead by his side. Not only that, but his entire left side had become lifeless and limp. The meerkats face fell as he slipped into the sweet, sweet warmth of unconsciousness.

-

Gizmo! Wake up! Carmen shouted as she shook her friends motionless form by the shoulders. Killian! Something has happened to Giz!

The gray wolf ran across to where the two were, and looked down at his fallen friend, spotting the expose EMP mechanism. This is not good. Gizmo set off an EMP, it fries electrical circuits. He pointed to Gizmos prosthetic arm. That is wired into his central nervous system, through his spine. The electrical feedback must have jolted his system, I think he has had a stroke.

Carmen leaned closer to the little mechanic, and her eye opened wide. His heart isnt beating!

Killian frowned, and knelt closer to Gizmos chest. Concentrating, he rubbed his paws together, and produced a large spark of Chaos powered electricity, and let it earth into Gizmos torso, lifting it away from the ground as the muscles convulsed.

Come on Giz, live! Killian muttered, once again rubbing his hand together, hoping to start the meerkats heart beating once more

~TBC

The Cohort Saga, Part IV-Gizmo's Tale
-
Chapter II-
-

Six years ago to the day, it happened. Six years ago I lost my arm, and I remember it like it was yesterday.

Reverie, the miracle village it was sometimes called. Situated on the shores of Never Lake, Reverie was separate from the rest of the world. Robotniks stagnant dominion had not reached the peaceful world of my little hometown. It was a place outside of time it seemed. The crops were bountiful and the fishing was always good, if a little strange sometimes. I never did like fish though; they always gave me a headache. And filleting them was such a tedious task; it took so much time away from what I could have been doing, like building a fish deboner. Anyway, now I am getting sidetracked. I was intending to commemorate the anniversary of the loss of my arm, and the loss of my peaceful life.

The rising sun shone down upon the peaceful village of Reverie, the light dancing upon the azure waves of Never Lake. A small boat was bobbing up and down on the waves; its movements tranquil and serene. In the boat sat two figures, both of them meerkats. A taller one was sat on the edge of the boat, his feet dangling in the water, a fishing pole on the boat beside him. His much shorter friend was lying back in the vessel, staring up at the great globe of the Miracle Planet, present once more above the lake.

So, Lithian, began the taller meerkat, turning to talk to his friend, his long cobalt hair blowing in the breeze. His features were young, but with experience. They were also full of a playful exuberance, his eyes full of boyish charm. Any plans for today?

The shorter, tan-brown meerkat sighed and rose from his reclined position. The small mammal was defiantly Gizmo, but his features were younger, and even less troubled, his orangey-blonde hair short and cropped, his muzzle fur neat.

Maybe Gizmo replied, reclining further, and sighing, smiling mischievously. I have some plans...but Im going to keep them secret for now. Youll find out at the big party tonight. He smiled at the mention of the party, a social event he would not miss. The annual harvest festival was tonight, and it was always a joyous occasion. The afternoon held events for the younger members of the village, and Gizmo usually watched the youngsters have fun, but he had decided not to watch today, he had other plans.

There was peaceful silence for a good while between the two, eventually broken by the boat shifting as an unusually large wave past by. The blue meerkat leaned over the side of the boat, and watched a large shadow flow away from them. What was that, Cobe? Giz asked, rising from his layed back position.

Cobe turned eyebrows raised. The lake is acting up a little again. I think we best head home, there isnt going to be any fish tonight.

Such a shame Gizmo grinned, switching on the motor on the little boat. It didnt really matter if they caught fish or not on this day, for it had become common practice to stock up on essentials from the lake when the Miracle Planet was away, as when it was there, strange things tended to appear in the lake.

-

A thin beam of light flitted through the small window of Gizmos basement-cum-workshop, adding a little more illumination to the dimly lit room, where the dark, yet warm, light was repeatedly interrupted by the blinding incandescence of sparks as the short furry worked on a large bronze-tone machine in front of him. There was a rapping at the door, and Gizmo turned off his heat-torch, took his goggles away from his eyes, and walked over to the door, opening it swiftly. In the doorway stood a slender female meerkat, her brown fur glimmering with the odd indigo sheen here and there, long brown hair flowing down her back. Her frame was tall and thin, but a small bump was discernable on her belly. In her paws was a plate of sandwiches.

Gizmo raised a puckered brow. Melissa? I thought you were sleeping in this morning? He said, quizzically.

Melissa smiled coyly. Its 2 oclock Lith. Have you been down here since you got back? Gizmo nodded, surprised at his loss of time. You Silly Billy, she said, handing him the sandwiches, and kissing him on the nose. I made you lunch.

The two sat together, talking and sharing their food, peaceful, content, and very much in love.

-

It was 4oclock now, and the afternoon activities had started, the joyous laughter of children filled the air. Gizmo smiled at the sound as he sat at the full table on the veranda of a beautiful wooden house, plates filled with fruits, bread and cheese laid before him, Melissa, and Melissas parents. Melissas farther, Joel, a stocky brown meerkat with deep purple streaks and large framed glasses, put down his cheese sandwich, and folded his hands. Okay Gizmolithian, spill it, Joel smiled, Why did you invite us here today?

Yes, whats up? added Melissas mother Jeanne, a dumpy blonde meerkat with white markings. You two seem to have been planning something for days.

Gizmo coughed nervously and placed his food down on the table, rising, Melissa stood with him affectionately holding his paw. Mr and Mrs Diamantine, Joel, Jeanne. As you know, I love your daughter very much, and would give my life for her, willingly do anything just to be with her. He paused, nervously looking around, feeling Melissas paw grip tightly upon his own, noting the presence of her soft leather gloves, a custom that had seemed to spring up recently, though Gizmo always wore gloves, due to the abrasive nature of his hobby.

AndI would like to ask, if I may, for your daughters paw in marriage. He finally got out the words, holding Melissas paw tightly.

Joel, looked at the two momentarily then turned to his own wife, the two smiled and turned back to Gizmo and Mel. You have our blessings, son.

Gizmo smiled the biggest smile of his life, Thank you, thank you. He leapt across the table in eagerness, shaking his in-law-to-bes paws. Before embracing his beloved tightly. Smiling, the two skipped off to watch the festivities.

-

The Sun began to set over the celebrating village, but the parties had only just begun. On the outskirts of the village a field was filled with tables and benches, with large open spaces for dancing, and a great bonfire in the centre. One table was laden with food, lined with great barrels of various drinks. The field was populated by the meerkat population of the village, dancing, socialising, and generally having a good time.

The community was tightly knit, and everybody knew each other, and knew each others business, so when Gizmolithian Rubicant, a young man well liked by all who knew him, stood to make an announcement, the field fell silent in anticipation.

Ahem. Good evening friends, Gizmo began, and was met by a raucous round of cheers from certain members of the audience, who had started on the barley wine a little early, Yes, thank you. Thank you. I hope everyone is enjoying themselves tonight, because Ive got some good news. More Cheers. I would like to announce, that me and Melissa, are going to be married! This was met with cheers from the whole audience, and a hardy round of congratulations from Gizmos closest friends.

Gizmo placed a paw down into his shirt, and pulled out a small ruby, set into stone on a lace around his neck, a chip from the Rubicant family jewel, a large ruby that had been passed down for generations. Removing the gem from around his neck, Gizmo hung it around the neck of his bride-to-be, in return, Melissa took a ring from her digit and placed it upon Gizmos own. This was an age old tradition of the meerkats in the village, signifying the union of the bloodlines, they were now betrothed, and would be wed by the next full moon.

I have some more news, Melissa said, softly to Gizmo, kissing him gently on the nose. Your going to be a daddy. The tan Meerkat raised his brow a little, then burst into a grin so wide it threatened to remove the top of his head, but before he could express his feelings further, he was dragged away by Cobe, who was shouting something about Celebrations.

-

The night drew in late, and the party died down. Many of the revellers had long since departed for bed, include Melissa and her parents. Gizmo and Cobe had also retired from the field, and were approaching Gizmos house, the two were walking with a defined stagger, and Cobe was carrying a passed out meerkat over his shoulder, an old friend of the pair, who never could resist temptation.

So, Cobe asked, a smirk on his face. What are we going to do with Sleepy here?

Gizmo shrugged, and indicated to his veranda. He can shleep it off. Replied the little meerkat, smiling.

After dumping their snoozing friend on the veranda, the two buds stood and looked up at the miracle planet for a short while, listening to the sounds of the night. The night itself was cloudless and quiet. With only the sounds of the night-birds, and the gentle splashing of the wind on the lake fending off complete silence.

Im going to go there you know. Gizmo stated, flatly, interrupting the silence.

Cobe looked at his friend sideways. What? He finally decided upon.

The planet said Giz, pointing vaguely. Im going there someday. Someday soon.

Cobe burst out into raucous laughter, nearly falling onto the slumbering form behind him. Youre full of it Ian!

Im telling the truth! Giz grumbled petulantly. Ill prove it! Ill do it tonight!

Cobe stopped laughing dead, and blinked. Your serious?

Gizmo nodded.

-

The night could honestly be called morning now, but most would still regard it as a time of sleep. The sky was still a deep midnight black, the soft moonlight gently outlining the miracle planet in the sky. In the now deserted field that previously held the harvest festival, Cobe and Gizmo stood alone, next to an odd contraption, the same that he had been working on earlier in the day.

Its mostly cylindrical form was cast in a bronze toned metal, but it had two small wings out each side, and a series of vents along the bottom, with a large vent in the rear. A comfortable looking seat was inset into the centre.

So your really going through with this, huh? Cobe asked.

Gizmo nodded, and climbed up onto the craft, starting the engine. Running through his mind were thoughts of his family, his new fiance, his unborn child. Was he crazy doing this now? Still, he new what he was doing, he'd have to do it sometime anyway. Nothing could go wrong. Ill bring you back something nice! He grinned, and started the engine. The craft floated up above the ground gently for a second, then cannoned off into the sky, his fur blown flat by the rush of air, his shirt blowing in the wind.

Cobe sat down in shock, he hadnt expected the machine to really work, and now his best friend was flying off where no meerkat had gone before. He really needed a stiff drink.

-

Gizmo began to relax a little as he adjusted to the high speed he was travelling at, and started to enjoy the night air. And the fabulous view that unfolded before him was breathtaking, the miracle planet itself occupied half of his view, a beautiful marble of land and water, mountainous peaks and valley chains visible even now, above him, the deep blue of the night expanse encompassed his senses. The sky was cloud free, and the infinite darkness was punctuated by thousands of glittering stars, like someone had tossed a scoop full of diamonds over a black velvet sheet. The comparison made him glance at the diamond ring around his finger. Just behind the planet was the moon of Mobius, sinking into obscurity like a great white balloon, casting a greyscale light over the world. Far below him now, he could see the lake, smaller now it seemed, but still it could have swallowed the little planet, the moonlight glinting of its surface at odd angles. Next to the lake, was his own village, like a toy set now. He felt a sudden longing to be back safely on the firm ground with his loved ones once more, but continued upwards. He could see beyond the mountain barriers around the lake now, the world was larger than he had ever dreamed, flowing out beyond his scope of vision, vast fields, rolling hills, even in the distance, there were twinkling lights, perhaps the cities that he had often heard of from the rare travellers to his village.

The planet was close now, he could see the landscape in dim light beneath him, filled with many bizarre land formations, that seemed to make loops and ramps, out of the plain rock. Headed toward a grassy beach-like area, he pawed at the air braking systems, trying to slow his movement, and descend to the surface. At first it worked smoothly, and he slowed gently, but then his controlled fall was interrupted by a light on the dashboard, and a series of electrical sparks from the craft beneath him. Gizmo looked down to where the fault was, but before he could inspect it, the craft shot forward violently at an enormous speed. He was close to the planet now, and the gravity it exerted had a firm hold of him, so as he rocketed forward, he curved in a perfect orbit of the sphere. His vision began to blur as he sped round and round, the centripetal force pushing against him hard.

He began to see things, the village burning, a scorched lake, the planet sheer metal, impossible things. He shut his eyes, knowing that they could not be. Finally, the chunk of metal beneath him gave one last all out surge, breaking orbit, before settling into a low whine as he flew in a horrific parabola above the mountains, headed at an intense velocity toward the ground, the airbike making higher and higher pitched whines. Moments before he hit the floor, the bike exploded in a retina burning display of white light, making a noise that tore through the night air. Gizmo was blown upwards, slowing his speed to nothing, before he fell toward the ground again, landing with a deep thud.

Breathing heavily, Gizmo opened his eyes, and immediately wished he hadnt, for as soon as he did, it seemed that all the pain in the world flooded straight into him. He could only open one eye fully, the other would only open half way, and his vision was obscured with blood. His forehead was deeply grazed, his blood soaking into the fur, tuning it from a tan into a deep crimson. Much of his body fur was blackened and singed, his flesh cut in several places. But worst of all, his arm was nothing but a blooded, cooked stump just below his shoulder. He attempted to flex his fingers in vain, broken hearted, for it was the very same arm that he wore Melissas ring upon.

Looking around, wincing from the pain coursing through his body, he saw that he was in a forest, darkened and dying. The trees sickly, with a slimy sheen to them. He also saw the burning husk of what remained of his craft, sat in a scorched crater. Between him and the crater, lying morbidly on the ground like the discarded branch of some tree, was the blackened remains of his arm, completely furless, and in some places, removed entirely of flesh. The cut was clean however, it seemed to have been sliced right off. Most likely by the wing embedded into a tree nearby. Crawling forward painfully, he dragged himself to the fallen limb, clasping his remaining paw round the ring on the damaged digit.

The last thing he saw, before he passed out, was a figure through the flames, with a hint of grey fur.

~TBC

The Cohort Saga, Part IV-Gizmo's Tale
-
Chapter III-Family
-

Gizmo awoke with a start, gasping from the memories that filled his dreams. He felt for his arm, finding the clod metal with his gloved paw. It was simultaneously a relief, and a blow. Though it was better than nothing, it was a travesty to the warm flesh of his memory.

You are awake. came Crimsons voice from beside him, in its usual stern tones, but with just perhaps, a hint of relief. Gizmo turned to look at the red wolf, as he tapped at a machine, slightly nervously. It was comforting to see his friend, as distant a friend as Crimson was. Sitting up, the Meerkat checked his surroundings. He appeared to be in the medical cave of the Cohorts hideout, stocked with supplies and equipment first secured by Vicktor the cat, then enhanced by himself. The last thing he remembered, has feeling happy that his closest friends were safe once more.

Ill go tell the others, said Crimson, deadpan, walking toward the door. But before he got there, he turned, a smile appearing at the corners of his mouth. Its good to see you well. And with that, he was gone, his long red tail disappearing through the doorway.

What was that about? Gizmo asked, to nobody in particular, considering the room was empty. Crimson almost never displayed emotion, let alone happiness. Before he could consider this further, his train of thought was interrupted by Carmen running into the room, ducking as she did so. She was immediately followed by Black hopping up onto his bed, a grin on his tiny face, and the lumbering Dekker, smiling kindly. Lastly came Killian and Crimson, both standing at the back of the crowd, smiling, but only slightly.

Black bombarded Giz with mindless chatter, whilst the others simply stood, happy in the knowledge that their friend was okay. Gizmo sighed, and lay back against his pillow, enjoying his friends company, but longing for something more.

-

The hideouts layout was such that the topmost caves within its burrow-like interior were situated above the general cave line of the Mystic Cave Zone, and as such, those cave near the top, had by some past associate of Vicktors, been excavated to give terraces and windows. They got cold at night, but it was worth it for the view of the night sky, in Gizmos opinion. That was where he was right now, looking forlornly up at the moon, leaning on the rock with a sigh.

Good evening Giz. Carmen said, softly, joining him on the terrace. The lanky ferret had never seen her friend this way. Ever since she had been recruited, Gizmo was always the one member of the cohort who never lost his optimistic outlook. His bright attitude had always shone hope into the outlook of the others. But now he seemed to be missing something, pining.

She approached the little Meerkat, leaning against the wall with him, and stared at the stars with him for a while, before a look of remembrance crossed her face, and she reached into the pocket of her black dress. I found this. She said, pulling out a small object. It fell out of your arm after the EMP wave. She held it out for him. It means something to you, doesnt it.

Gizmo looked at the object in his friends gloved paw. It was a small diamond, slightly stained with smoke. Around one side it was set into a circle of metal, as if it had once been part of a ring. Tears in his eyes, he took the gem, and wrapped his arms round Carmen in a warm hug. Thank you. He whispered, tears streaming down his muzzle.

He let go in an attempt to compose himself, and placed the gemstone in his shirt pocket, before returning to look at the sky, a smile now on his face. He seemed to be staring at one star in particular, brighter than the others. Carmen followed his stare, and looked into the infinite with him.

Ive been there. Gizmo said, quietly.

Carmen looked at him, and nodded, not doubting it. When? She asked. She could easily have found out, but had no wish to invade her friends privacy in such a way.

Six years ago. He sighed. To this very day. The same day I became a member of the Cohort. He sighed again. The same day I left everything behind.

Carmen looked at him quizzically, urging him to elaborate.

I had been testing a flying vehicle, he sighed. But it went horribly wrong, and I ended up lost and injured, on the brink of death. But Killian found me, saved me. In the months I spent with him, recovering, I learnt of the world outside of Never Lake. Of its oppression under Robotnik. I learnt of his violent conquests, and I made the toughest decision of my life. I decided to leave everything I knew behind, my friends, my family. There were tears in his eyes once more. My own child. I left them all, to protect them. If I didnt do everything I could to help, what chance did they have? I would not. Could not rely on others to protect them, I had to stop them from coming to harm myself. He wiped his eyes. I send a letter every opportunity I get, but I cant ever get any back. If Robotnik traced the address to return to, we would be dead. So I fight, until I can see them all again.

Carmen looked down at Gizmo, sadness filling her pink eyes. She placed her paws upon his shoulders, and spoke softly to him. Until then Gizmo. You will always have a family here. And with that, she left. Unable to break to him the truth she knew.

The ferret walked inside, and down to the main cavern, and upon entering, she sought out Killian. When she found the Grey wolf, she drew back her fist, and punched him hard on the nose, sending him stumbling backwards onto his bed, before helping him up.

You cant protect somebody with lies Killian. She said, angrily.

Killian rubbed his nose, which was quite painful now, and looked into Carmens eyes with his own piercing blue one. Would you rather I told him? Would you rather I tore his soul into shreds of grief. Let him be Carmen, he has hope, which is more than many of us. Without hope, his hope, some of us would not have made it this far, and you know that."

She turned from him.

I ask of you, let him have his hope.

Okay. she whispered, tears in her own eyes, before walking off with the dreadful truth in her heart. For she knew Never Lake had been scorched dry fifty years previous.

-End of Part IV

Part V has a different feel to the others. o.o

-
The Cohort Saga, Part V Tools
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Chapter I Tool of Construction
-

Free will on Mobius, is a relative term. The people are, as a whole, mere slaves, their free will inconsequential. The pocket groups of rebels and freedom fighters are free to act upon any actions they make, but they are the minority, their will having little to no impact in the long term. The minions of Robotnik, one could say that they are in a worse position then the people under his thrall, they are mindless. Only Robotnik, and his generals have a true exercise of their whim.

But there are those even worse off then the slaves, who willingly or not give up their right to act upon their free will, but can still harbour the thoughts. Worse even then the robots for who free will is never an option. This is a tale of two such beings, from very different backgrounds. One whose free will was revoked, one who never had a chance to exercise it.

It begins 20 years ago

-

The area known as Mech Hill Zone, a place that had once housed great beauty, with its lush rolling green banks, thick healthy palm trees, sparkling blue lakes and unique flora and fauna, earning the name of Green Hill, is now a corrupt and dying land. Its flowers no longer grow, choked by the poisons and run-offs of the immense and varied facilities the Zone houses. The lakes sparkle now only with the silver and mercury by-products that destroyed its former splendour. Even its previously uncannily bright sky is now grey with oppressive clouds.

Now Mech hill is home to the Robotnik Empires more sinister facilities. Its heart may lie in Metropolis, where the overload sits on his throne, where the armies that maintain rule are produced, but its brain, is in Mech hill. And its mouth. There within sit the Futures Security Centres, where the pregnant mothers are taken, their offspring taken straight from birth to be indoctrinated into a love of their master, to be churned out into his work from the moment they are able.

But the mouth of the empire does not simply speak. It also feeds.

Deeper in the dark core of the zone, lie the research centres of the empire, varying from the mundane physical and chemical centres, always striving to improve the death machines that walked the planet, churning out noxious gasses and deadly chemicals in the process, to what was known to those who had seen it and lived, as The Stomach. A hellish place, in which mobians would enter, but seldom leave, dissected to provide the legions of robots greater knowledge for targeting, or torture, even worse, those whom are taken young, for it is often a darker fate awaits them. The experimental sector.

-

Facility 21, cold, clinical, brightly lit. One would expect darkness and gothica in place of such atrocity, but, as often happens, evil doesnt follow rules. Floor 8 of its tall structure followed a pattern of corridors indistinguishable from all the other floors, but for one fact. The screams. Oh there was screaming on the floors zero through eight, certainly, and occasionally there was screaming on floor 10, never above that though. But the screams on floor 9 were different. They ebbed and flowed, always feminine, always ending in shorter, high pitched wails. Floor 9 was a maternity ward.

Along the corridors stalked a haggard racoon, his hair frazzled and tufted, muzzle covered in unruly whiskers, the dark mask of his fur barely hiding the bags under his eyes. His paws were concealed in the pockets of his lab coat, issued merely for protection, a cheap, unbleached grey. His pawfalls making a steady ticktack as his plain, hard shoes touched down on the cold floor of the facility. The corridors of the building had no windows, lit simply by halogen lights, in an all pervasive ambience. Barely a shadow was cast as the racoon negotiated the sharp corners of the warren like building. Eventually he came to a slide door; there was a pneumatic whoosh as he held up the palm of his and to an electronic eye at its side, letting it scan the barcode tattooed onto his paw pad.

Dr Quentin, the birth was a complete s-success-s, not a s-single comlicat-tion. Greeted a voice as he entered the room. Standing in the same garb of grey lab coat was a blue-green skink holding a small, bloody, baby bear. When she spoke, her words hung on the s sounds, like her tongue was becoming stuck to the top of her mouth. Unlike the racoon, whose movement was belaboured and slow, the skink was constantly twitching her tail, her eyes darting nervously about the room.

Dr Quentin looked at the resting mother, then to the baby in hand, which too, was now asleep. Only one child? The skink nodded. Ah well, Sighed the racoon Not every mother can bear a numerable litter, one from this subject will have to suffice, we have the others. He held out his right paw Hand me the child Dr Staedtler.

Cradling the cub in one arm he removed a small recording device from his coat pocket. Time is 3:34 Metropolis central time, this is doctor Lucius Quentin, mobian privileged servant 0452x3, in facility 21, working in conjunction with doctor Teresa Staedtler, mobian privileged servant 0452x5 on project DK. Subject 0034 has given birth to a healthy male cub, weight He looked at the baby in his arms, able to pinpoint the weight simply by lifting. 9.3 lbs, light brown colouring. The child, unit DK34 will now be transferred to floor 17 for further processing and cleaning. With that, he handed the child back to Dr Staedtler and replaced his paws into his pockets, turning to leave.

Lucius. S-show me your paw He turned round, and the skink was staring at him, rather than darting around as they had been previously, her eyes were focused only on him. Gazing down to the floor, he slowly took his left paw back out of his pocket, this time without the device. Three of the digits were missing, where his middle finger had been was a bandaged stump. AwwwLucius. Not again. You have no paws-s left s-soon, this-s is-s the fourth time now Quentin visibly slumped, seeming growing smaller. What was-s it this-s time? Did you try to hang yours-self with your lab coat? Overdos-se on the tranquillis-sers-s?

Lucius stared at his paws, the short stubs marking him, punishment, burning with shame in his mind. One for each time he tried to escape this hell. Each time, he was caught, and each time, he was punished. The electricity conduits I bit them.

Teresa simple sighed at her co-workers plight. She sympathised with his position, she too had been recognised for her keen insight and smart nature, and inducted into the Privileged Servants Program. And she, like many others, found it worse then slavery. Forced to use their minds for their masters whims, not even death would be granted them as an escape. No-body cared if a slave died, other than more slaves, but Privileged Servants had value. They were punished with the deaths of others, and their only reward was often the same at the hands of their own creations.

What s-should I do with the mother? She asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

Kill her. Dr Quentin replied, exiting swiftly.

-

General Itzamnas central processing room was much like the interiors of the rest of the tall facilities that made the skyline of Mech hill. It was cold, clinical, grey, and lit by an all-pervasive white. On each wall was an ordered rank of jacks, ports, and infrared emitters. At the centre of it all sat Mech Hills commanding general itself, the hulking white mass of the robot Itzamna. Absorbing every piece of information that occurs within his charge, processing it all. And occasionally, acting upon it.

Lucius Quentin stood before the general now, taking in his impressive visage. To say it was awing for the racoon would be an understatement. It wasnt that Itzamna filled the room, it was more like he was the room. His giant form began at the ceiling, where five massive white legs hooked into the roof, mirrored by an identical five legs planted onto the floor. Housed between them all was a matt white sphere, the only visible mar on its surface, a circular emblem, what seemed to be a reptilian tail encompassing the familiar nose and moustache of the Robotnik Empire. The legs were lined with the innumerable number of jacks that Itzamna required to conduct his observations.

You summoned me, my general. The racoon stated flatly, his head bowed.

There was a reverb that sounded almost like a grunt, and then the sphere began to rotate toward the doctor. As it turned, Lucius could see that the sphere was not the true body of the general, but he merely lay within. Facing him now was a perfectly proportioned humanoid robot, a paragon of the human male, even its faceplate was perfectly sculpted into a handsome Adonis. A mass of wires plugged into the back of its head to give the illusion of a crown of flowing hair. Staring through Dr Quentin with hollow eyes for mere moments, it replied in a pleasant bass voice. PS0452x3. Yes. You work on the DK project in facility 21. Correct?

Yes my general.

Your project is proceeding sufficiently. Again the hollow eyes stared straight through Lucius.

Yes my general, we have all 40 subjects we required to-

It was not a question, I know the progress. There was a hint to the mechanoids voice that the racoon could not quite place. Was it, jealousy? No, you were called here because you yet again tried to prematurely terminate your contract, again. The robot stood, the hair of cables trailing behind him, false muscles flexing and gleaming as he strode toward the doctor. And now, that you are before me, you yet again intend to terminate your contact, as well as bring harm to my person. Is that not true?

Lucius gaped, how could Itzamna have known? The racoon had avoided all possible ways he could be detected, his plan was flawless. You are probably asking yourself how I know about this. Simple, PS0452x3, I know everything. Though it was quite ingenious constructing an explosive device out of your rations and supplies. Lucius scowled internally as his fist clenched on the small bomb in his pocket. Outside, he retained his impassive visage. If you hand me the device peacefully, and cooperate fully, your punishment will be limited to mere days in the deprivation chamber.

So those were his options, days in hell, followed by years, living a life he despised, causing nothing but suffering, finally dieing of old age and being condemned for all eternity for not stopping this monster while he had the chance. Or to die now, and run the spiritual risk for taking his own life.

My general? He said, contempt and disgust cutting into his voice. Go to hell. And with that, he removed the rudimentary explosive from his pocket, and pressed the switch, screwing his eyes shut tight.

But there was no explosion. No bright light at the end of a tunnel. No burgers served on Saturdays.

Lucius opened his eyes, and saw on the floor before him, his own severed paw, and the flesh on the end still bubbling where it was sliced through. I knew youd do that. Itzamna sighed, his left hand still glowing an incandescent red.

Mymy paw Lucius stuttered in disbelief, staring at the smouldering stump on the end of his arm You monster! You took my- But before Quentin could finish, Itzamna had driven his red hot hand straight into the racoons chest, the lab coat setting on fire around it robots wrist, as the doctor slid backwards slumping onto the floor.

Organics. You never realise how much you are attached to your flesh until its gone. And with that, he turned back to the ceiling.

If one could see into the mind of the monster now, one would not find him contemplating the endless stream of information that assaults his consciousness every day, rather one would find him thinking about himself. Not the perfect metal paragon, but rather the small, weedy, unhealthy, almost reptilian human he used to be.

The fools, to throw away their gifts so easily

-

Facility 21, floor 17. Inside we see several young cubs, varied in both gender and species, there are about 35 in all, all of them approximately four years old. They sit in a circle around a female skink, with blue grey colouration. There is a book in the skinks hands.

And then the great and heroic Doctor Robotnik s-slew the dragon, and the villagers-s lived peas-cefully ever after. The end. Teresa smiled, closing the book as her eyes darted rapidly over the children before her. She took in all the details of each young ones reaction to the story, some were enthralled, some unimpressed, but all of them believed. One young rabbit, Teresa knew him to be DK05, one of her favourites, had a paw in the air.

But wa abou the Bunny Wabbit Mummy? Did she become a wobot? Like she wanted?

Teresa smiled at the young cub. Showing such interest and extrapolating possibilities at such a young age, the project was certainly working for him. Others like poor DK34, she was not so sure about. Still, it was merely in stage one. Ask your father, Fiver, here he comes now.

The group turned as one to see their Father enter, bubbling with glee as they charged down their patriarch. Hugging each one gently in turn, a soft bass, yet frayed voice announced that it was time for bed. As soon as they had all left, the figure, clad almost entirely in a gunmetal blue, only muzzle showing, covered in scars, turned to the skink. Well Dr Staedtler?

I believe the remaining subjects may prove successful, The blue skink responded, twitching in her usual manner, but now also rubbing her arm from the wrist down. I really hope they turn out okay, they are sweet kids for the most part.

It isnt our job to make sweet kids Teresa, they are to be perfect living tools.

I know, Dr Quentin, I know.

~TBC

The Cohort Saga, Part V - Tools
-
Chapter 2 Tool of Observation
-

10 years ago

Through the psychedelic skies of the special zone, a black cloud permeated everything in vision, a deafening roar cutting through all sound. The cloud swarmed towards its destination, a red cloud already forming around the series of asteroids the darkness was descending upon.

The red cloud paled in comparison to the black however, and it was soon encompassed entirely, and when the dark mass moved on, the red was gone. The black cloud surged forward once more, and fell upon the asteroids in one movement, and the noise ceased. As one, thousands of small obsidian figures descended upon the surface in complete silence, all simultaneously drawing a sword with each of their four arms. Every one of the figures was identical, stocky, heavily armoured, about a foot tall, and a perfect reflective black. Rushing out to oppose them were figures that looked exactly the same, the only difference between the two forces was that one had a burning red hue.

The swarms met in complete silence, and the battle was joined. It was like a graceful dance, the interplay of pitch black on red as the insectoid warriors took out their rivals with precision, twisting and turning as each fighters four limbs were used to their optimum, cutting down enemies that came close, before, almost inevitably, falling themselves. The carnage was wrought however, without emotion. Not a scream of pain, not a roar of anger, a sob of sorrow. Not even a change of expression. The only sound was the faint clicks of the meetings of metal on metal and blade on exoskeleton.

And the, just as quietly and quickly as it began, the melee was over.

In one movement, one body, the remaining obsidian attackers took once again to the skies, returning from whence they came, leaving in there wake only carnage and destruction, each of the red warriors lay dissected, their body parts strewn amongst the identical shapes of the fallen black invaders. Many had died, thousands. But not a single one of the swarm cared. Not a single one could.

Hours passed as they flew, the more injured, more exhausted of their number simply dropping from the sky as they used up the last reserves their body had to offer. However their compatriots did not stall to assist, they did not even look back, each of the numbers faceted red eyes focused on one thing alone. Home.

Approaching fast, they descended on an asteroid identical to that which was previously occupied by the red beings they just massacred. But this time, there was no intercepting cloud, no rushing of violent warriors to great them with death, there was merely silence. The stillness of the air was broken only by the soft click of footsteps as the swarm marched inside. Negotiating their way into the asteroid, through the pitch-black tunnels, avoiding the paths of other beings without even looking. Stepping swiftly around the smaller versions of themselves that were moving rocks, walking confidently through a constant stream of glossier insectoids cradling eggs, the warriors proceeded to a large chamber, where as one, they knelt before a visage that to any onlooker, would have seemed monstrous, but to them, were they capable, would only have received love.

Their Queen.

Through each of their minds, a warm presence returned, something that had been faint during their mission, far away. It was their guidance, their director, their very minds, the control of their queen, the hive mind of the Black Ant colony, Gamma Tau. What one felt, all felt. What one thought, all thought. Individual neurones in a living brain, cells in a huge body. And reunited again with their true mind, they felt once more.

Satisfaction. Victory. Triumph. Determination.

Another of the Hives rivals had fallen before it. Territory could be expanded, the warriors lost in battle were being replaced already, existence was good. With the resources of the fallen Red Phi Chi, a new colony could be established for the black ants, a new queen could be raised under the hive-minds guidance, then sent out to further the black ants domain. To increase the hive-swarms potential, bring the race-mind closer to its eventual destiny, the aspiration of any of its rivals. The knowledge and power of a god.

As the bodies of the fighters were retired to get some rest, as the workers continued their endless tasks, as ants were born and died in a flaring of cortices, new and old, the Hive considered its next move. The Reds would be unlikely to attempt to reclaim their fallen colony, they were on the decline and had not the numbers to continue the war with the Black on all fronts. It could feel from the other Hives in the race-mind that the wasp colonies were becoming dangerous, but the current allegiance with the bees was bolstering that conflict. And once the wasps were felled, the Bees would submit to slavery, or die. Their inferior minds were no match for the ants, allowing individuals to become rouge so easily under the guidance of their foolish king.

No, the black Hives were clear for victory now, on all fronts but one. The plague, the interlopers, the alien invaders that had tainted their land and sapped at their will for decades. The Gamma Tau hive knew that as the only black Hive not involved in conflict, its duty was clear, it must prepare to fight the last true rival of the Blacks. The being that called itself the Eggman Empire.

-

Elsewhere in the Special Zone, far from the asteroids of the Black Hives, lay the vast metropolis of New Tech City. A sprawling, concrete and glass jungle, the city covered almost all of the planetoid it called home. Its population in the billions, with such a wide diversity of species inhabiting it that walking down the street, you were likely to meet a body shape entirely new every day of the week.

Its immense populous was ruled over with a gentle, but strong hand by its aged mayor, Mighty the Armadillo, his laws enforced, by his own god-daughter, commissioner Thespia Chameleon of the NTPD, leader of a police force into the millions, each one happily swearing loyalty to the peace, their city, and the Eggman Empire.

Not a citizen among them could recall even when the empires rule was forged, or what their seemingly benevolent dictator even looked like, even the most proficient of historians could not seek out for whom they all served, and in truth, they did not care to know. For it mattered not, when they looked upon their empires symbol, they felt only love, before returning to their day-to-day lives.

For the inhabitants of New Tech city, weather they new it or not, were slaves to Dr Ivo Robotnik. They had no chains, no guards, no bars. But they were slaves non-the less. For over 50 years his plan had been progressing, every small decision, every little movement. Each and every person subject to his mind control, imperceptibly and slowly pushing them to his will, in such minute steps, that they could not notice.

His very own Hive.

-

The Black Gamma Tau colony drifted silently on its asteroid once more, on the surface, 25 insects stood, slightly smaller in stature than the warriors that wiped out the Red Hive, but non the less, large for their race. The usual silent countenance of the hive again present amongst their emotionless faces. Rising as one, unfurling gossamer wings a shrill buzz cut through the air, fading whilst the insects darted off in different directions. Each one knew its purpose, pre-programmed into its mind. It would search beyond the Hives influence, scout, observe, and then return once more to within range of the Hive mind. They were to be eyes, ears. Nothing more.

As one of these scouts flies further away, its links with the other scouts vanish to nothing, even the mind it is nothing but a mere extension of fades away to a mere spark in the back of its brain. Its thoughts are empty, it has not wants, no needs, no curiosity, only a mission to complete, not out of desire, but because that is all that it exists for. It is a living robot. A tool.

Of the scouts sent out, this one heads toward the vast New Tech City. If it could feel horror, terror, awe, it would, for the Hive before it is the largest it has encountered. Even in the dedicated cranium of the scout, its presence could be felt, corrupting the mission. Ignoring the pull of the Empire Hive, the scout drew closer, gathering as much information as possible about this vast enemy the Black Hives would have to face.

-

Days the scout had been gathering information now, in truth it should have already returned to the Hive. But there was so much to see, so much information to gather. Inside its head, it could feel the faint spark of the hive-mind; fizzing and sputtering like a dying match flame, overwhelmed by the shear amount of input. It no longer seemed quite so important anymore; instead the scout found that other drives were becoming important. It was urged to perform actions it had never before considered, to interact with other beings socially, to work, sleep, live, laugh and play.

Urges, that if it stepped back and analysed, it would realise came from the mind control of the Eggman Empire. And its true Hive residue knew this, and was reacting. The Black was coming to retrieve him.

-

Weeks pass, and the Scouts connection home waxes again in strength. Those sent to retrieve him will arrive soon, and with them all together, there is no way that these new, strange, wonderful urges will be able to drown out the Hive-mind. The urges that were compelling him to stay, and live, the urges that were telling him to fight his hive. But how could he fight his hive? He could not.

The pressure was growing stronger as the conflicting commands fought back and forth in his mind, chaos reigned through his brain, he could not trust either thought now, and he knew it. The perspective an alternate view had bought him had finally allowed him to step back from both, and do something he had never done before.

He made a decision.

He ran.

He ran and flew, as far as he could, as fast as he could, let the hives fight against each other, sacrificing everything callously, without a single care. The black hive with its cold impassive sheen and ambitions. Robotniks hive, with its underhanded command and illusion of life. They were the same, different faces with the same body, he knew now that was not what he wanted, it was not who he was going to be, who he was.

He was Black Gamma Tau Male 31200647. And he was going to be free.

~TBC