Trapped At 40, 000 Feet

"Long range scanners are out," Sabre said as he checked and re-checked the displays. "I can’t even raise Echidnaopolis."

"I’ve run a diagnostic," Locke told his father, and the rest of the assembled Brotherhood. "There’s nothing wrong with our equipment." He rose and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Sabre called after him.

"When hi-tech fails," he called back over his shoulder, "Go with a low-tech solution." He opened the door and stepped out into the Forbidden Zone, the rest of the Brotherhood close behind. It didn’t take them long to discover the problem.

The sky was dark. Unnaturally dark. It shimmered occasionally with an artificial light.

"What the blazes is that?" Thunderhawk whispered.

"I don’t know," Spectre admitted. "But it reeks of Dimitri."

"Knuckles..." Locke whispered. He bolted back inside, towards the landing bay.

"Locke, wait." Sabre yelled.

Spectre clamped a hand on his shoulder. "Let him go," he said softly. "If it IS Dimitri, the boy’s going to need all the help he can get."

~~~~~

Remington winced and shot the Legionnaire a vicious look. The black robed bully had deliberately aggravated the brown echidna’s injured left arm. Remington wasn’t entirely sure what was wrong with his shoulder, it could be a break, a dislocation or a torn muscle. All he knew was that it hurt.

He glanced back at the Legionnaire. Due to the injury, and their numbers, they hadn’t bothered to restrain him, feeling he wasn’t a threat to them. He smiled to himself. That was their first mistake.

He glanced around, noticing a storm-water drain that had been damaged in the explosion. It would give him easy access to the city’s underground sewer system. ‘Not the most auspicious of escape routes,’ he thought, ‘but any port in a storm...’

He watched his guards with interest. They’d grown rather complacent in their superiority to the much more peaceful residents of Echidnaopolis. ‘It’s now or never...’ he thought. He bolted for the damaged grating, pulling it free quickly, with a little bit of effort, with his uninjured right arm.

He heard the Legionnaires demanding him to stop, but of course, he paid them no mind as he dropped into the knee-deep water of the musty tunnel. "Don’t just stand there!" He heard someone order. "Get after him!" Holding his injured arm close to his chest, he ran as fast as he could, hoping to put as much distance between himself and the armed Legionnaires as he could.

He headed for the small walkway to the side of the tunnel. The water would slow him down, and the sound of it, as he sloshed through it, would make him easier to follow.

"Switch to infrared." He heard one of the Legionnaires say. He cursed. In infrared he’d stand out like a lily on a dirt heap. But there was no way he was just going to give up. There was a bend in the tunnel just up ahead. If he could reach it, find an access tunnel off to the side and get out of this main tunnel before they could get a lock on him...

‘That’s an awful lot of ifs,’ he thought to himself.

He felt a hand slap over his mouth as he was dragged into the darkness of one of the access tunnels he’d been hoping to find. He gritted his teeth as the arm of the hand’s owner tightened around his injury. He wondered if he was being saved or captured as he was moved quickly along the smaller tunnel, further and further away from the Legionnaires who sought him.

"It’s safe to talk now," a familiar voice hissed in his ear, "But keep it down."

"Stryker?" Remington squinted in the darkness and could just make out the bulky form of the dingo general.

"Yeah," he confirmed. "You looked like you could use a little help." He pushed open a door and they entered a dimly lit, but apparently well stocked, emergency bunker. Remington raised a sceptical brow. Stryker smiled almost sheepishly. He frowned as he noticed the way the echidna was holding his arm. "Medic." He yelled, as loudly as he dared. A wiry young dingo loped up to the pair, saluting his superior. "See to the constable’s arm."

"Yes sir." The medic saluted again. He quickly examined the echidna. Remington winced as the young dingo moved, poked and prodded the injured arm, but he didn’t make a sound. "Dislocated," the medic announced. "Won’t take a moment to set right." Before Remington could say a word, the young dingo grabbed his arm and expertly popped the slipped joint back into place. Remington opened his mouth to scream from the pain, but only managed a breathless gasp. "There ya go," the medic smiled. "Good as new."

Remington fisted his hand and rolled his shoulder. He wasn’t sure about ‘as good as new’, but the pain had subsided to a dull ache, and at least it worked. "Thank you." He said, to both the medic and Stryker.

Stryker shrugged. "You know the saying, ‘the enemy of my enemy’..." Remington nodded his agreement. "So, whatta you know?"

"Besides the fact that we’re up against the Dark Legion, not a lot." He admitted. "Communication’s pretty much out, both internal and external."

"What about your precious Guardian?"

Remington frowned. "There’s no sign of him. Or any of the Chaotix for that matter."

Stryker stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I don’t like the sound of that," he said. "That kid’s got moxie. He’d be right in the thick of things, if..."

"He were able." Remington finished.

"Looks like it’s up to us," Stryker said. "How many troops you got left?"

"I’m not sure," Remington frowned. "We have hidden assembly points, in case of emergencies. But with the communications out..."

"Yeah," Stryker nodded. "We’ve got a similar set-up." The big dingo sighed. "Guess we’re just gonna have to check ‘em all the hard way."

~~~~~

Without the benefit of electronic communication devices, it took several hours to gather up all the ESTs and dingoes that had managed to elude capture by the Dark Legion. Their numbers however, were still dangerously low. Combined, they barely numbered fifty.

"This ain’t gonna be easy." Stryker mumbled as he surveyed their assembled forces.

Both the echidnas and the dingoes were disheartened by what had happened. And neither was too pleased in having to work with the other. True, the dingoes had made their home in Echidnaopolis for some time now, but old prejudices ran deep. It was an uneasy alliance at best. Both Remington and Stryker knew however, that they could count on the loyalty of their respective troops.

"It’s some sort of force field, I reckon," a dingo communications officer was saying.

"I have to agree with that," his echidna equivalent added. "I’d guess it’s electromagnetic in nature. That’d explain why our communications are out."

"We need to find out what’s going on," Remington said. "Both on the Island and out there." He gestured outwards to indicate the rest of the planet. "Or at least warn the kingdoms of Mobius what they’re up against."

"Warn them?" Stryker raised a brow. "I thought this was a whole in-fighting thing amongst you echidnas."

"If only that were the case," Remington sighed. "Most of us," he gestured towards his troops, "are pretty happy to keep to ourselves. But the Dark Legion was always big on Echidna superiority," he paused when he noticed Stryker’s expression. "That was just one of the things we didn’t agree upon, we don’t all consider our race to be the end-all of evolution. WE believe that all species are equal. The Legion would happily enslave the whole planet, including us," he gestured again towards his troops. "That’s what Dimitri was planning when his brother, Edmund, stopped him."

"So what can we do?" Stryker asked. Both he and Remington looked to the communications officers.

"If we could work out the frequency of the shield," the dingo mused.

"We could probably punch through it," the echidna continued.

"It’d take a lot of power though," the dingo frowned.

"More than we’ve got at the moment." The echidna nodded in agreement. "And that’s assuming that it IS electromagnetic. We’d have to get a closer look at it."

"And we’d be spotted for sure." The dingo sighed.

"How would they be powering that thing?" Remington asked. "Could we shut it down?"

"If the power source is on the Island," the dingo nodded. "You must know these guys better than we do." He looked at the echidnas.

Remington shook his head. "Truth is, apart from our biological roots, we’re nothing like them. I don’t even think our technologies are compatible."

"Then they’d have their own power source."

"Sir?" A young EST member approached.

"What is it, cadet?" Remington asked.

"I was on routine patrol when the attack came," she said, haltingly as she glanced at the intimidating form of Stryker. "They had some kind of huge airship...It was almost as big as the Island."

"We would have noticed it approaching." Remington frowned.

"It appeared out of nowhere, Sir," she said. "They must have developed some kind of stealth technology. They deployed a series of small, disk-shaped craft that took up a holding pattern around the entire Island, even under it. There was a brilliant flash, then the sky went dark."

"Great," Stryker growled, "we’re trapped in a giant electromagnetic bubble."

"Which we can’t knock out from the inside," Remington added. He drummed his fingers on his arm. ‘The Brotherhood should have something to counter this,’ he thought, ‘but they’re trapped in the bubble too. Still...’

He turned to his communications officer. "Can you jury-rig something so we can at least get some internal communication operating?"

"It all depends," the echidna looked around, "on what kind of components we’ve got." He glanced at the dingo.

He smiled. "Let’s see what we got."

~~~~~

It took several hours, but finally the pair of communication officers had a workable communicator. Remington raised a sceptical brow at it. It was a large, ugly looking contraption. Wires hung out of it, and it made a strange whirring sound.

"Are you sure this thing’ll work?" The dark brown echidna asked uncertainly.

"Sure," the dingo said brightly.

"Dunno for how long though," the echidna admitted.

"And you better make it quick," the dingo said, a little nervously. "Your evil cousins’ll probably put a trace on it pretty quick."

"Terrific," Remington mumbled.

"Who ya calling?" Stryker asked.

Remington glanced at the dingo. He wasn’t sure if he should divulge the existence of Haven and the Brotherhood to him and his people. True, the dingoes had helped out in the past, even at Locke’s suggestion, but some secrets were not his to tell.

"Some friends." He said, not entirely untruthfully.

~~~~~

Thunderhawk turned, stunned to hear the crackle of the ancient radio communication system. It wasn’t used anymore, and they had been discussing the merits of even keeping the antiquated piece of equipment.

"This is Constable Remington," it squawked at him. "Is anybody receiving me?"

Thunderhawk picked up the receiver. "Yes," he said, "I can hear you."

"By the Walkers, the darn thing works," Remington mumbled, forgetting his proper protocol for the moment. "Is that you, old friend?"

"Yes it is." He confirmed. He frowned, Remington wasn’t usually so informal in his dealings with the Brotherhood, he always addressed them by title and name. "I take it we have some FRIENDS listening in?" He flicked a few switches. They had managed to get some of their surveillance equipment operational, and he homed in on the source of the transmission. The monitor showed a concentration of blips, each representing a warm body that stood near the epicentre of the transmission.

"Possibly," Remington said. "We’ve got a spot of trouble."

"Yes," Thunderhawk agreed, "We are aware of it, but I don’t think we’re in much better shape than you are. But we’re working on a few little surprises." He could almost feel the constable smile. "Got a whereabouts on the youngster?"

"No," Remington sighed, "I was hoping you did."

Thunderhawk frowned. As active Guardian, Knuckles would have been at the forefront of the battle as soon as the Dark Legion attacked. He feared his distant grandson had become one of the many casualties. His attention was drawn to the nearby monitor. A much larger number of blips were closing in on the original number. "You best shake a tail before your location is compromised. I’d take the low road to the beach."

Remington took the hint. "We’re already on our way."

~~~~~

"Let’s move it, people," Remington said to the gathered troops, "We’re about to have company."

He marvelled at the efficiency of both his own troops and Stryker’s. No panicking, no running, they simply packed up their belongings and prepared to move out.

"Which way?" Stryker asked.

‘The low road to the beach’, Thunderhawk had said. Remington knew what he meant. With the ‘low road’, he was referring to the lowest point on the compass. "South tunnel." He said. ‘The beach’, Remington knew, was designed to throw them off. The Legion would, logically, think they meant the edge of the Island, what would have been the beach, had the Island been in the sea, and not in the air. But it actually referred to a point at the very edge of Sandopolis, where there were abundant trees and water, and a series of large ruins, ideal for shelter, and hiding from an enemy.

~~~~~

Thunderhawk looked at Deo Volente. "Can you get in contact with the others?" He asked. "Let them know where I sent them?"

"Easily." The old ant closed his eyes and concentrated on mentally contacting his son and grandson.

~~~~~

"Got a message coming in." Archimedes said to Locke.

"What is it?" He demanded, flicking his head towards the ant that stood on his shoulder. "Have they found Knuckles?"

"No," Archimedes could feel Locke’s shoulder sag beneath his feet. "Remington managed to make contact. Thunderhawk estimates he’s got about fifty or so troops with him. He sent them to the Sandopolis ruins. He wants us to meet them there."

Locke nodded silently.

~~~~~

Having put their communications officers in the lead, Remington and Stryker were bringing up the rear, covering the backs of their troops as they discussed strategies. They failed to notice that they were dropping further and further behind.

"I say we hit ‘em, and hit ‘em hard." Stryker said.

"Yeah, all fifty of us," Remington retorted. "That’d be a real short battle."

"Then what do you suggest we do?"

"We’ve got to find out how many of them there are first," Remington reasoned. "I don’t think they’d all be on the Island, they’re probably off trying to conquer the world by now, but I’d bet even money that they’ve got hostages." He glanced at Stryker. "It’s the way you operate."

The big dingo bristled. "Do you want our help or not?"

Remington ignored him. "We’ve got to find out who they left in charge," he continued. "I’d guess Moritori..."

"Who’s Moritori?" Stryker asked.

"He knows the Island better than any other Legionnaire, he even knows about..." He paused, still unsure about how much Stryker should know.

"Knows about what?" Stryker demanded, hands on his hips.

Remington opened his mouth to answer when he caught movement with his peripheral vision. "Uh oh." Was all he could think to say.

Stryker spun and saw them too, about a dozen of them, dressed in black robes, hi-tech laser weapons held at the ready. The pair turned, back-to-back, each ready to defend the other against this common threat which was now closing in on all sides.

"Recommendations?" Stryker hissed over his shoulder.

"Nothing comes to mind." Remington replied.

"Terrific."