At about nine-fifteen that morning, a Mobian, Twi’lek, and Wookiee left the apartment complex, to the surprise and bemusement of Human onlookers. Tails realized that without Carth or Bastila with them, three non-Humans would look extremely conspicuous to the citizens of Upper Taris. Fortunately, no one bothered them. Tails was grateful for the open sunshine again, and a cool breeze kept him from feeling too warm in his clothes. After spending so long under artificial lighting or even total darkness, and being coated in sweat, dirt, grime, and blood of various colors, the fresh air and sunlight felt rejuvenating.


When a Sith patrol came too close for comfort, the trio ducked into a back alley and continued on from there.


Mission was a fountain of curiosity, and she pumped Tails for any details about himself or his home he’d be willing to share. There was quite a bit Tails wasn’t willing to share yet, however, so he deflected many of her questions into stories about his childhood and his adventures with Sonic the hedgehog.


“OK, wait,” she said finally. “Your friend Sonic is already stupidly powerful, and yet a bunch of gemstones can turn his hair gold and make him even stronger? I call BS.”


“It’s all true,” said Tails. “The seven Chaos Emeralds are what so much of the fighting on Mobius has been for. When Robotnik discovered he could power his machines with them, everything changed. And Sonic was the first being in probably millennia who could harness their power directly and ‘go super’. The strain makes us burn through Power Rings like crazy, though, so our super forms can’t be sustained more than a few minutes.”


“Us? Our?” Mission asked incredulously. “Don’t tell me — you, too?”


Tails beamed.


“Yup. The Chaos Emeralds only resonate with top-tier Chaos adepts, and on Mobius, that makes six of us — and I’m included in that little club. Sonic, Shadow, Silver, Knuckles, Blaze — and me. Gosh, what a rush. I haven’t gone super since I was twelve, I think. There is no drug in the universe that can match that kind of high. The power, the emotions; I don’t think I can describe what it feels like. It’s scary to think how easily I could have abused that power, though.


“All your normal inhibitions go away while in super mode. It’s like you can do anything, and to a terrifying degree, you can, and nothing can hurt you or stop you. We’ve used that power exclusively to fight Robotnik, planetary invaders, and other powerful beings, but I shudder to think how that power could be used for personal ends — or for fun.”


Mission stared at him blankly.


“I know, I know,” Tails sighed. “You don’t believe a word I said.”


“It’s just a bit too much, Tails,” she said, shaking her head. “Even if your planet was smack dab in the middle of the Unknown Regions, the Jedi can sense that sort of stuff. You remember Bastila’s reaction to your powers — even she was baffled. You have to be making some of this up.”


“And Bastila is, what, twenty-ish?” Tails retorted. “Maybe she just doesn’t know, or isn’t sensitive enough to feel it. Or, maybe the Jedi just aren’t as clairvoyant as everyone thinks.”


“Tails, I like you, and I want to believe your stories, but…,”


“I wish I had some way to prove it to you, Mission,” the boy said. He sighed again, and continued, “I wish I had some Power Rings, but I haven’t seen a single one on this planet. They sort of popped up everywhere on Earth and Mobius, and Sonic and I could stock up thousands of them at a time.”


Mission didn’t know what to say to that.


The trio walked in silence for a while. Sounds from the main street permeated the narrow alleys and reflected around the high, towering walls. As Tails lead them, Mission noticed unusual details about fox-boy’s gait. Perhaps unsurprising was the degree that Tails leaned forward as he walked, no doubt to counter the weight of the two fuzzy monstrosities trailing his butt. It was subtle, but it was there. The boy kept his two tails remarkably compact — with each step, they undulated like sine waves, each cancelling out the motion of the other, and despite the fact that they were twice as long as he was tall, the never stuck out much more than a single body-length behind him. When he paused, his tails looped around him or formed a tight hairpin curve behind his back. And despite looking heavy as iron anchors, he treated them as if they were nearly as light as air.


This led to an interesting observation about how the boy balanced on his feet. Tails’ walk cycle looked quite a bit different when one took a moment to watch it, which made Mission suddenly think how she walked. Most upright species with a ‘humanoid’ body plan walked by striking with their heel, rolling their weight forward to the ball of the foot, then lifting off again with their toes. But Tails struck down with his toes, rolled his weight backward to his heel, tapped lightly, and then rolled his weight forward to his toes again to lift off. As a result, Tails lifted his knees a bit higher than normal, and his lower legs were held a bit more vertically in the air during their off-cycle. Tails didn’t look particularly dog-legged, at least not in those comically large shoes of his, but his walk cycle was reminiscent of many digitigrade species.


At least, most of the time. Tails occasionally switched between heel-striking and toe-striking as he walked, apparently without any reason. There were moments that looked like Tails had to catch himself as he did so, but he never stumbled or broke his stride. Mission found this very odd indeed, and she filed her observations away for later.


Mission blushed when she realized she had been staring at Tails’ rear end for five solid minutes.


Then, Tails looked over his shoulder and abruptly asked, “Mission, are Humans important here?”


The sudden question startled her, but then the Twi’lek raised an eyebrow. “What?”


“I don’t mean on Taris, I can see that much,” he said. “I mean — in the Republic. In the galaxy at large, how important are the Humans?”


Mission gave the furry boy a looked that could only be described as ‘You have got to be kidding me’. After a moment, she said, “You really don’t know, do you?”


Tails groaned. “No. I don’t.”


“Tails, Humans are one of the most numerous species in the galaxy. They’re practically everywhere, and there are few places in the Republic where you wouldn’t run into some. A good chunk of the Galactic Senate are Humans, and so is the Chancellor. The more cynical of us would say that the Humans run everything. But, why do you ask?”


The boy didn’t know if he wanted to answer that question. Mission was already suspecting he was playing games with her, and he didn’t want her to think he was completely looney. There were three Humans on Mobius at last memory. Ivo Robotnik, Colin Robotnik, and Christopher Thorndyke. They were the last known survivors from the Human homeworld, Earth. Mobius was Earth, but separated by a quarter-million years of time. There were no more Humans! The Xorda eventually wiped them out, and now only the shorter, four-fingered Overlanders remained. Tails didn’t care what fate befell Eggman or Snively, but he was saddened that Chris would likely die childless. Simply put — all these Humans here shouldn’t exist!


But, Tails didn’t say any of that. Instead, he said, “It’s complicated.”


Mission just scratched her head. “OK, have it your way.”

---

Tails, Mission, and Zaalbar reached the Equipment Emporium after about thirty minutes of walking. Kebla was ecstatic at Tails’ return.


“Hey, look who’s back — the Mysterious Stranger!” she said. “You know, I had a front-row seat when you took down Bendak Starkiller. Best duel I’ve ever seen! The ending was a bit messy, but Bendak went out with a bang, didn’t he? What was the deal with those officers, anyway?”


Tails tried to fight down the revulsion he felt, both from the memory of the duel’s aftermath, and the fact that this woman apparently enjoyed it so much. He wasn’t entirely successful.


“Ah, well, I suppose it doesn’t matter,” she continued. “Sure glad my armor held up! Wow, against a lightsaber of all things, even! So, you have the rest of your payment?”


“I, um — hang on,” said Tails. He turned around and, as quickly and discreetly as possible, he pulled the battle-damaged armor kit out of storage space.


Kebla Yurt did a double-take. “What, where did you pull that out of?”


“Between my tails,” the boy replied. He presented it to the older woman, and said, “I don’t have your money yet. I’m on my way to the cantina right now to collect it.”


Kebla took the armor and began inspecting it. “You mean that overgrown slug hasn’t paid you yet? Where did you go after the match?”


“I was, um, indisposed afterwards.”


In examining the burnt fibers and vitrified ceramic tiles, Kebla actually pushed her hand through the diagonal lightsaber strike. The polymer backing there had completely cooked, and what remained of the tiles crumbled into dust. She whistled in amazement.


“I’d like you to repair that, if possible,” said Tails. “You could shave a little bit of total coverage for more flexibility, if you’re low on tiles. One other thing…,”


The boy gingerly removed the outer shells of his gloves, leaving the inner liners on his hands, and handed them to the woman. He was so glad his shoes and gloves had that feature.


“Could you install that cybernetic mesh material I bought earlier into both my gloves? You might still have on record which kind — I think it was type D-6. I’d also like mesh type A-4 installed in the lining of the armor if it’s not too much trouble.”


Kebla gave Tails a look. “I’m not doing anything until you pay what you owe. You might be a big-shot celebrity now, but I still have a shop I need to keep open.”


“I know, I know. I’ll be back shortly with your money, Kebla,” Tails said wearily.


As they walked out of the store, Mission asked, “So, I see what your ‘rent to own’ deal was. What was the ‘dignity’ part?”


Tails stuck his tongue out. “Nope, not telling.”


The cantina was only another fifteen minutes away. With any luck, they could get down to the Undercity before noon. Tails just hoped they wouldn’t run into Carth somewhere along the way, or the older Human was liable to wring his neck.


Inside was mayhem. The trio was accosted from all sides from rabid fans, cheering spectators, nosy paparazzi, and random haters alike. For Tails, the mass of people was just too much, and he had nowhere to hide. Zaalbar went into ‘bodyguard’ mode, and with a few throaty roars, Tails was given some space. Mission gleefully took up the bodyguard act as well; she just wish she had some cool shades to complete the look.


And, as luck would have it, Ajuur the Hutt turned out to be missing when they entered the dueling lobby. An aide was dispatched to fetch him, and Tails took a seat to wait. Zaalbar ensured the circling mob stayed out of a three-meter radius of him.


‘I shouldn’t even be here,’ Tails thought. ‘I’m collecting blood money for Gaia’s sake!’


Tails withdrew into himself, willing the crowd to just go away.


“Hey, you OK?” asked Mission.


The boy stared at his boots. “No. Not really.”


“We can go back out, if you want.”


At that moment, a door slid open and the overgrown slug slid out into the room.


“Ah, my Champion!” he said as he took up his usual spot. “Come closer, come closer!”


With a brief sigh, Tails got up and approached the Hutt.


“So, Bendak Starkiller is dead! I can hardly believe it — Bendak never loses! That was an amazing duel. Best duel I’ve ever seen!”


“That’s — that’s nice, Ajuur,” said Tails, struggling to maintain a neutral expression.


“You’ve done well, Stranger. I’m pleased. Very pleased. Though I don’t much care for police in my dueling ring. You’re lucky it was Zax who set that up and smoothed everything over, but I’m taking it out of your winnings. Here are your credits. And, because I’m in such a good mood today, I’m giving you a bonus — Bendak’s blaster pistol, as a sign of my appreciation for your business!”


Ajuur’s aide presented Tails with a new datapad containing his cut of the winnings, and the Mandalorian’s heavy blaster pistol that, thirteen hours ago, had been shooting at him. A miniature black hole formed inside Tails’ gut, and the boy felt like his body was going to collapse into it. It made quick work vacuuming up his intestines, or so it felt. The boy felt numb to reality as he took both items.


“Th-thank you, Ajuur,” he stammered, fighting back the bile in his throat.


“Everyone will be talking about you, Stranger!” said the Hutt. “Everyone will know it was you who killed Bendak Starkiller. You’re famous now!”


Tails couldn’t take anymore. “Igottagonowkthnxbye,” he spluttered, and the fox made a hasty about-face.


Zaalbar cleared a path through the crowd, and the three of them made a quick getaway out of the cantina.


“Take it, I don’t want it,” said Tails, shoving Bendak’s blaster into Mission’s grasp. At her confused look, Tails repeated, “Please take it!”


Tails leaned his head over the railing of bridge connecting two of Taris’ great towers. He breathed heavily, and peered down at the clouds below.


“Tails?”


‘You didn’t kill him,’ he told himself. ‘He blew himself up. You didn’t kill him — you didn’t kill him — didn’t kill him.’


“I’ll be all right,” he said finally.

---

On their way back to the Emporium, Tails was flabbergasted by the amount of money on their datapad: nine thousand, seven hundred and ninety-three credits. That was way more than all his previous winnings combined. The boy’s heart sank to think that more than ten times that amount was bet on the match — that so many people would shell out so much money to watch one person murder another. He sighed, and he pushed that thought out of mind.


Kebla, for her part, had installed the equipment Tails had asked for. Tails paid for it and the debt he owed on the armor, and with their remaining credits they purchased a few additional supplies, including vibroblade and blaster upgrade parts. And boom-booms. Mission even got some new fiber-armor with durasteel inserts she’d always wanted; in any case, her old armor had been rather chewed up by their previous misadventure in the Undercity. All told, they still had nearly five thousand credits left over.


Tails’ custom armor wouldn’t be repaired for at least a day, though.


Zelka Forn’s clinic was their last stop in the Upper City. He was surprised to see them again so soon — and a little worried that Tails and Mission were there with no adult supervision.


“Hi doctor,” said Tails. “Don’t worry, we’ll behave this time, eh heh heh.”


Mission glanced nervously at the doctor, and said, “I’ll… just… sit over here.”


Zelka sighed, and said, “What can I do for you?”


“Well, I could certainly use some healing again — I got beat up some more.”


The man frowned. “I can see that. I’m surprised you lived through your match last night, little one.”


Tails’ face fell. “You… saw that… ugh.”


“I didn’t watch it live, no, but I saw the news coverage.”


The boy wilted and said, “It wasn’t supposed to end like that.”


“And yet it did,” said Zelka, with a paternal, almost grandfatherly disapproval. “Come on, I’ll get you patched up.”


After healing, Tails’ burns and barbeque stripes vanished, and physically he felt better than ever. Many of his older, fainter scars were fading away with each bout in the regenerator. The really deep and ragged ones would probably stay a while, still. Zelka’s scans revealed a troubling issue with Tails bone structure, though, as he pored over his screens.


“I’m seeing a large network of microcracks in your, er, synthetic skeleton Mr. Prower,” the doctor said. “Your bone integrity appears compromised. Do you know about this? A few hard hits and you could have a serious fracture.”


“Yeah — you should hear the alarm bells going off in my head,” said Tails. “It’s fixable, though. I’m just low on silicon, aluminum, and boron, which is impeding bone repair. I need those three elements for—”


“The alpha-SiAlON microplatelets and aluminosilicate geopolymer comprising your ceramic bone matrix, and boronitrene nanosheet reinforcements.”


“—that stuff,” the boy finished. “Could you, uh, prepare a dietary supplement for me? I kinda need it.”


“Should be simple enough,” said Zelka. “I’ll prepare an oral daily supplement for you. An amino acid chelate, for easy absorption. Same basic ratio as what’s already in your bones, then?”


Tails nodded. “My body’s really good at recycling those elements, but I still need more that what I can absorb from food.”


“And he eats a lot of food!” Mission interjected from across the room, followed by short chuckles. Tails rolled his eyes.


“All right. Anything else I can do for you?” asked Zelka.


“Actually, there is,” Tails replied. “Have you had any success mass-producing the rakghoul serum?”


The doctor’s face brightened quite a bit at that. “Indeed I have,” he said. “If anyone, at any time needs that serum, I can distribute it at low cost, thanks to you. Never in my life did I ever think the rakghoul disease could finally be eradicated from this planet! The Sith occupation complicates that though — it would probably be a bad idea to let on I have this yet. But, I’ve found channels through which I can start distributing the serum discreetly.”


Tails smiled at that news, and he said, “That’s wonderful, Zelka! I intend to do some ‘distributing’ myself. How much does it cost?”


“Well, right now I’m selling it for thirty-five credits per vial for single purchases, though I’m offering bulk discounts. How much did you need?”


“Hmmm…,” Tails thought a bit, then said, “How much for one hundred vials?”


Zelka nearly face-faulted. “One hundred? Where are you — never mind. For one hundred vials, two thousand credits. I still have to cover my production costs, after all.”


“Excellent! Also, I need whatever medkits and MRE packs you can spare.”


“Good lord, little one, what are you doing with all this?”


Tails smirked. “Going on a little adventure — and paying the Outcasts a visit.”


Zelka sighed. “I see. Well, that makes a bit more sense now. Just don’t die down there, OK? I don’t need to tell you how dangerous the Undercity is.”


The boy shuddered at the memories. “No, sir, you don’t.”


“Give me a minute and I’ll start boxing your purchases.”


Tails sat in the waiting area next to Mission and Zaalbar while the doctor vanished into a back room.


“You have an enormous heart, I’ll give you that, Tails,” said Mission.


“Yeah. Big and tender and always ripe for a stomping, but thanks.”


“You know… I never really thought much about the Outcasts before. Their villages are always so dank and depressing, and I never had much business with them, so I’ve usually just avoided them. Yet here you are, not on Taris for even two weeks, and you’re going all out to help them. Stop being such a goodie-goodie, you’re embarrassing me!”


Tails stuck his tongue out at her. “Make me!” he said playfully.


After a few minutes, Zelka came back out with three stacks of boxes and a large plastic bottle. They contained the rakghoul serum, the medkits and antidote kits, and the MRE packs, and were colored green, blue, and yellow respectively.


“Here’s your, er, bone supplements. I estimate this to be about a six month supply in this bottle, but you be the judge on how much you need. But now, how do you intend to carry all the rest of this?” asked the doctor. This is a couple hundred kilos worth of supplies, and it’s far too bulky to carry it all in your arms.”


“Don’t you worry about us, Zelka,” said Tails. “Could you get one large duffel bag — one big enough to hold all the yellow boxes?”


The doctor raised an eyebrow, but he slipped away to fulfill the boy’s request.


“You did think this through, I hope,” Mission deadpanned.


Tails grinned at her. The boy walked up to the green and blue boxes and inspected the two stacks momentarily. He coiled his tails together until they faintly glowed and melded into each other. Then, he raised the fluffy mass over the first stack of boxes, and very gently, Tails pressed his coiled namesakes down onto the supply boxes. He met resistance at first, but after a few seconds his tails descended, and the boxes slowly vanished from sight. Tails grunted and adjusted his stance, and his leg muscles started to bulge slightly as the extra mass anchored to his body.


By the time Tails stored away the second stack of supply boxes into his ‘otherspace’, he was clearly struggling to stand. The boy estimated he was four times heavier than before — nearly as heavy as Zaalbar! He panted heavily, and beads of sweat trickled down his body.


“Tails, are you all right?” asked Mission.


“Yeah, just — ah — just give me a moment,” the boy replied.


He took his first few tentative steps, and an exaggerated gait told how much he struggled to walk. All of his muscles were tensed. His twin tails, now separated again, drooped even as they tried to counterbalance his movements.


‘Geez, I shouldn’t be struggling this much,’ Tails thought. ‘Too much lab work, not enough exercise.’


The boy walked from one end of the office to the other in an effort to acclimate himself to his new weight. It took a few passes, but he finally was able to carry himself without wheezing like a squeaker, or looking like he might collapse to the floor.


“Tails, you’re carrying too much weight,” said Mission. “You’ll exhaust yourself before we ever get to the Undercity!”


“Nah, I’m good,” the boy said, still breathing more heavily than normal. He wiped the sweat off his face. “This is still well below my maximum. I just — I just need to get back on my daily workout regimen once we’re off this planet.”


Mission shrugged, but the concern was still written all over her face. “I still can’t believe you can carry all that junk inside of you…,”


Zelka came back with a pair of oversized duffel bags Tails had requested, and did a double-take when he noticed the other containers were gone. “Where are the other supplies?”


“Away,” Tails said cryptically. “Thanks for the extra bags, Dr. Forn!”


The doctor was left scratching his head as Tails loaded the boxes of food rations into the bags. The boy started panting again as he knelt down to fill up the bags, and Mission jumped in to help.


“Are you feeling well, little one?” Zelka asked. “You’re sweating and wheezing all of the sudden.”


“I’m fine. Thank you, doctor,” Tails said quickly, though he didn’t help his case by half-gasping his words.


Zelka was unconvinced, but he hoped the boy knew what he was doing. “Well, then… take care, all of you, and be careful down there.”


The doctor left to attend his clinic.


“Zaalbar, could you — uh — help me up, and — ah — carry these bags for me?”


Big Z grunted, and he offered a paw for Tails to grab. He hoisted the boy up to his feet, then strapped the two stuffed duffel bags behind his back.


“I don’t understand, Tails,” the big Wookiee rumbled, “You’re carrying twice as much weight as I. Why do you burden yourself so, when I can carry more?”


The Mobian fox shook his head. “Too bulky,” he said. “If we’re ambushed, or otherwise need to act quickly, we can’t have towers of boxes in our arms.” Tails then smirked, and added, “Don’t worry, I can handle it.”

---

Tails inhaled two of those MRE packs on their way to the elevator and took his bone supplements with them. Even after just half an hour, his cybernetic systems reported that skeletal repairs were well under way.


Tails, Mission, and Zaalbar cautiously approached the Sith elevator guard. Neither of them knew if Bastila’s earlier mind trick was still in effect, or even if this was even the same guard. They all looked alike in their gray and black armor.


They’re were allowed to pass without incident, and the elevator began its long journey down to the Lower City. Tails flopped against the wall and slid to the floor.


“How are you holding up?” Mission asked him.


“Ugh. My legs and back are sore, but I’ll be fine. The ride down will give me a few minutes to recuperate, anyway.”


The Twi’lek sat down against the wall next to him. “You didn’t say anything about your bones being messed up before…,”


Tails sighed. “Well, it wasn’t a critical issue until the last few days. They were able to keep repairing themselves after getting broken in the Undercity and after the Swoop race, but they couldn’t heal completely after my fight with Bendak. Just too much strain, too fast, and I didn’t have enough raw material for them to keep it up. It’ll be fine now. They’ll be back up to full strength and hardness in a few days.”


Mission made a noncommittal grunting noise, and both she and the Mobian fox were silent for a minute. Zaalbar joined, and soon all three of them were munching methodically on military food rations. It was an amusing sight, the three of them sitting on the floor with their backs against one wall, legs stretched out in front of them, all eating in silence.


Then, Mission asked, “Do you really think this ‘Promised Land’ thing is real? I mean, it just sounds like cheap, misplaced hope to me.”


“I don’t know, Mission. I think something is out there; the data suggests as much. It’s definitely what old man Rukil was looking for, and his parents and apprentices. Even if they really are just out chasing phantoms… isn’t a little hope worth fighting for?”


“Even if it gets them all killed? The Outcasts need as much hope as they can get, but I don’t think there’s anything out there that can rescue them from their plight. Not like that.”


“Hmmm…,”


Mission then slapped him on the shoulder. “Well, at least they’ll be getting a boatload of medical supplies and emergency food, not to mention that rakghoul serum!”


Tails chuckled. “Yeah. That indeed!”


The elevator began to slow its descent, and both Tails and Mission got back up, with the boy still struggling a bit with all the invisible weight still anchored to him.


“You sure you’ll still be OK?”


“Quite sure.”


Zaalbar took one side of the elevator door and Tails and Mission on the other. As it opened, all three of them carefully poked their heads around the corner. Beyond the threshold was an absolute mess. Broken concrete and steel support struts had crashed to the floor, severed electrical wires hung from the ceiling sparked violently. Blaster fire and explosives had caused part of the corridor to collapse, and the lingering stink of cooked flesh told them all they needed to know.


As the trio attempted to walk around the damage, they found it hard not to step on the bodies. Numerous Sith troopers had found themselves in a three-way gun battle with the Hidden Beks and Black Vulkars. It was impossible to tell exactly what had happened, or which side had ‘won’, but most of the fallen Sith were bunched up near the elevator, suggesting they were retreating from the gangs and got trapped at the door. Mission suggested that the Beks and Vulkars had briefly teamed up to drive these Sith out of the Lower City, only to turn on each other when the troopers had been exterminated. The Twi’lek was only too certain which side had betrayed the other. Tails’ stomach churned, but the boy said nothing.


Near their first intersection, the three of them found a damaged but intact two-person speeder.


“Hey! I think this one’s actually running!” said Tails.


A low whine from a pair of intake turbines indicated the machine was still idling. For how long, no one could guess. The body and frame was pock-marked with stray blaster fire, but it still looked drivable. The boy jumped into the front seat and fiddled with the controls.


“Hop in — we can use this to get to the Undercity faster!”


“Tails, you haven’t even told us your grand plan yet,” said Mission. “Carth has the datapad with the Sith papers, so how do you intend to get past the gate guard down here?”


“Easily. Come on, I’ll surprise you!”


It was the girl’s turn to roll her eyes and sigh exasperatedly. “Whatever… this had better be good!”


All three of them piled in. It was a bit more spacious than a swoop bike, but only barely, and Tails found himself sitting in Mission’s lap while Zaalbar took the seat behind them. The boy’s gigantic brushes looped awkwardly around Mission’s middle and down their legs. The girl tightened her arms around Tails’ belly and locked her chin over his shoulder, and the whole arrangement made the boy feel very, very warm.


The speeder raced down the corridors of the Lower City towards the Undercity elevator. There were no other obstructions, and Tails estimated their ride would shave an hour and a half off their trip. With a half-broken windshield, though, the strong gust whipping around them proved uncomfortably distracting. More than once bits of dirt and debris tried to cram themselves into his eyeballs, and the force of the wind even whipped his shirt up into his armpits, exposing his abdomen and the front of his chest. Mission readjusted her grip on him, but it wasn’t long until something started to feel… off.


Tails pulse spiked when he realized Mission’s hands were grasping his bare stomach and sides. He tried to ignore it, rationalizing it was only because of the high winds. He almost succeeded, but then the girl’s hands started to wander. They slowly traveled up and down his torso, from the sides of his chest down close to his belt line.


‘Hrrk!’


Tails’ heart leapt into his throat, his teeth chattered together, and his eyes twitched from the onslaught of tickling sensations. He had to force each ragged breath lest his lungs seized up completely!


“Mission…,” he hissed.


‘Is she TRYING to make me crash?’


Despite having the side of her face pressed against his, she didn’t hear over the whistling wind and the roar of the turbines. The boy couldn’t tell if she was even aware of what she was doing, but the way she was stroking his chest and stomach was driving him nuts.


‘She’s not doing it on purpose. She’s not doing it on purpose! She’s just trying to hang on, and my shirt’s flapping in the breeze, and…!’


“Mission!” he snarled as loudly as he could. The boy was choking for breath now, and his vision was starting to go cross-eyed.


“What?” Mission shouted back.


“Stop! Feeling! Up! My! Stomach!”


“Huh?” she blubbered. There was a pause, and then, “Oh. Whoops! Heh heh… sorry.”


'Why me?'


Tails whined, but at lease the rhythmic squeezing and stroking stopped. There was suddenly a prolonged coughing sound coming from behind both him and Mission, then his heart sank when he determined its source.


‘Great. Just great. Even Zaalbar is laughing! Someone, please, kill me now!’


A red flash of light struck the speeder, showering them with sparks.


‘I DIDN’T MEAN THAT LITERALLY!’


The vehicle shuddered, and Tails banked hard to evade blaster fire. He looked over his shoulder and saw two swoop bikes gaining fast.


“Aw, crap. Everybody hang on!”


The speeder they were in didn’t handle anything like those swoop bikes, and that one had definitely seen better days. Tails pushed the machine to its limits, coaxing every last bit of maneuvering power out of it short of blowing it up, careening into a wall, or dumping them all onto the street. Blaster bolts flew wide.


“Someone do something! I’m driving here!” Tails yelled.


Zaalbar calmly activated an ion grenade and tossed it over his shoulder. A bright blue flash washed over the closest swoop bike, disabling it and sending it crashing to the street. Tails grimaced — there was no way the rider could have survived a crash like that. Big Z hefted his bowcaster, but he could only hold it one-handed and still hang onto the speeder. But unlike the pursuing swoop, Zaalbar wasn’t driving.


“Tails, now would be a great time to explain your plan!” yelled Mission.


“Hold on, we’re almost there!”


The Mobian fox stuck to a defined evasive pattern, random enough to throw off the vast majority of incoming blaster shots, but not so erratic as to seriously risk crashing. The pursuing swoop rider’s hand-aimed shots missed their marks, but the craft’s speed rapidly closed the distance between it and the speeder. Zaalbar’s own aim wasn’t helped by the constant swerving and weaving, but in only two shots the big Wookiee gutted the swoop’s main engine, and the whole craft caught fire and broke apart.


There was little time to celebrate — three additional swoop bikes came into view and were closing fast.


‘Dammit!’


Tails’ memories of this corridor as well as the automapping software in his head told him they were only a minute or two from his intended destination. But with blaster bolts chipping at their speeder’s frame, he started to doubt if they would live that long.


“Mission! Take over! I need you to drive a minute!” yelled Tails.


“What?”


“Just trust me — we’re almost there! Stop at the air-access shaft on the right side!”


Mission and Tails battled the two hundred mile-per-hour winds as they awkwardly untangled themselves and swapped positions. With the Twi’lek girl now firmly in control of the speeder, the fox clung to the side of the craft.


“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Mission asked incredulously.


Tails gave her a pointed look, then said, “Stepping off for a moment!”


Using his tails as a second pair of legs, the boy jumped into the air as hard as he could. With all the extra mass anchored to his body, Tails felt like a lead weight, but he trusted his Chaos powers to do what his muscles could not. He twisted midair and spun up his tails, each of his namesakes effectively eight-foot-long helicopter blades of destruction. Tails sailed into the path of the nearest swoop bike, and the hapless rider barely had time to gasp as orange, white, and black flashed before his eyes. The machine sliced into four tumbling pieces, but not before a pair of hands pulled him out of his seat.


‘YOINK!’


The screaming Black Vulkar rider flailed madly as his swoop bike crashed and exploded and the flying fox twisted and spun in midair. In seconds, Tails pounced on the next pursuing swoop, chopping the craft into five slices and yanking its rider. Tails’ arms strained under the forces trying to pull them out of their sockets, but both the Nikto and Twi’lek gang-bangers got their arms pulled out of joint instead. The third swoop was coming up fast, but the fox had bled off too much momentum and was careening towards the deck. He stuck out his legs and spun up his tails as fast as he could.


Tails tumbled as his feet slammed the street, his two captured goons getting battered worst by far. He ignored their moaning and wailing and jumped back to his feet, and he almost managed to swipe the underside of the third swoop as it sped overhead. The boy gave chase and jumped directly into ‘turbofan mode’, accelerating hard to catch up with the swoop and speeder.


For all the swoop bike’s speed, it was still subsonic, and Tails was faster. He quickly gained on the vehicle, and soon its occupant was in grabbing distance. When he was close enough, Tails tapped him on the shoulder.


“Excuse me,” he shouted.


The Human gang member shrieked at the sight and aimed his blaster at the flying fox, but Tails had none of that. He swatted the gun away and hoisted the man out of his seat, then destroyed the swoop bike with but a few flicks of his tails.


“You are experiencing a car accident,” Tails shouted, grinning at the boldfaced lie.


The man screamed and flailed, but Tails kept his grip on him. He could see Mission and Zaalbar in the speeder ahead of him, and they were slowing down as the boy had instructed. Blaster bolts struck the walls and ceiling around him, and Tails gasped as he saw five additional swoops race towards them.


‘Aw, crap!’


Tails found himself out of options. He slowed to intercept the speeder and dumped the screaming Human as soon as it was reasonably safe to do so. Tails hit the ground running and raced over to the parked speeder.


“Tails? Plan?!” said Mission.


“Come on, to the window! Climb onto the ledge!” the boy replied.


“What? That’s not a plan!”


“This is how Carth and I got down to the Undercity before. I can fly us out of here!”


The five swoop bikes roared into the corridor and partially surrounded the trio, and blaster fire flew around their heads.


“I don’t have time to argue!”


Tails, Mission, and Zaalbar jumped onto the ledge as bits of concrete exploded around them. At least the Vulkars’ aim was as bad as their driving skill.


“Tails — but how…,”


“Just a sec!”


The boy took a step towards the Vulkars. He covered himself with one hardened tail, and spun the other like he was winding up a pitch. He took another step and twirled three hundred sixty degrees on his toes, cracked his spinning tail like a bullwhip at the gang-bangers, and launched Bendak’s stored sonic grenade over and above their heads towards the opposite wall.


“Now — grab hold, jump!”


“That’s the stupidest…!”


Tails grabbed Mission and Zaalbar by each arm and jumped off with them. Right then, the sonic grenade exploded. The screaming blast wave stabbed at Tails' ears, and he struggled to keep his grip on his two friends. They fell fast down the air shaft — the boy’s tails were back in ‘copter mode, but were only lazily spinning. Unless they were better secured, both Mission and Big Z would be yanked out of his grasp if he tried to brake!


“Mission, shoulders! Zaalbar, legs!”


Somehow, they understood, and Mission threw her arms around Tails’ neck while Zaalbar went for his knees. When Tails was sure they were better secured, he spun up his namesakes to maximum speed.


“Aaaaugh!”


The sudden strain on Tails’ body made him feel like he was being pulled apart. Mission slipped down to his wrists, Zaalbar down to his ankles, and Tails bent at the hips like a hairpin while his furiously spinning tails suspended him from the middle. The pull of gravity was utterly merciless, and even at maximum power the trio was still descending at a breakneck pace.


“Tails! Tails, do something!”


“It’s called a controlled descent, dammit! Arrrrrrrgh!”


Tails couldn’t think. All his focus was concentrated on not falling to their deaths, not letting go of his friends, and not getting ripped in half from the strain. He was over his carrying capacity even at the best of times, and that didn’t include slowing down from terminal velocity! He was almost certain his ears were bleeding again, but this time the sonic grenade had much more space to dissipate than in the arena.


‘Too… heavy…!’


The fox could feel himself decelerating so very slowly, and little by little the stresses on his limbs and spine eased as they slowed. But with the thick wall of mist all around them, he couldn’t gauge how close they were to the hole punched by the escape pod — or the bottom. Tails burned through his reserve pool of Chaos energy, far faster than he could regenerate it, to keep his tails spinning at peak power. He gasped for breath, sweat trickled down his fur, and he still cried out in pain until their fall had slowed to only a meter or two per second. After nearly a full minute of falling, their rate of descent could be counted in centimeters.


“We — we’ve stopped? Not going to go splat and die?” Mission asked through her own ragged breaths.


Zaalbar let out a long-suffering moan of his own.


“We’re OK… we’re OK,” gasped Tails.


He couldn’t reach his headset with Mission clutching his wrists, but with a deliberate flick of his eyes the IR scanner on his headset turned on and its holographic eyepiece flickered to life. Now he could see through the heavy mist, and discovered they were right above the hole to the Undercity. Tails was grateful for that — if they had fallen below it, he didn’t think he could summon the power to climb up to it. He lowered his power output a bit, slowing his tails, and they descended a bit faster into the hole in the wall. He was still burning though his Chaos reserves at a terrifying clip, and his power was going to give out completely if he didn’t get some rest.


Tails carefully navigated the hole, and after a few more minutes, he set down on the rocky floor of the Undercity.


“Oh, ow, my everything,” Tails moaned.


Both Mission and Zaalbar groaned as they picked themselves off the ground. “Stupidest. Idea. Ever,” Mission grumbled.


“Believe me,” Tails panted, “the swoop bikes were not originally part of the picture.”


Mission helped him up. “I think I know where we are,” she said. “Come on, I know a quick path to the nearest village. Shouldn’t take more than thirty or forty minutes if we hurry.”


“Thanks, Mission,” the boy grunted. “Hopefully, I put a big enough dent in the local rakghoul population, and they won’t bother us.”


They each pulled out flashlights. “Weapons up,” said Mission, and the three of them darted off into the darkness.

---

Meanwhile…


After several hours tracking down false leads, Carth and Bastila wearily trekked back to the apartment complex to plan their next move.


“Well, that was a bust,” Carth sighed.


“We mustn’t lose heart, Carth,” said Bastila. “We will find a way off this planet.”


Carth harrumphed. After steeping out of the elevator onto their floor, and seeing no potential eavesdroppers, he said, “Bastila, I was wondering something. Just how did those Vulkars manage to capture a famous Jedi like you? Were you knocked out in the crash?”


“Uh, no, I was conscious,” she replied. “But my Force powers were exhausted from using my Battle Meditation ability on the Endar Spire. Without my help, you and Miles Prower might never have gotten off the ship alive.”


“Hmm, fair enough,” said Carth. “But, I’ve seen you Jedi in action. There’s no way those thugs would have stood a chance against your lightsaber.”


There was a soft coughing sound. “My lightsaber… was misplaced. I couldn’t find it after the crash. I looked everywhere in that pod. The Vulkars came and overwhelmed me even as I was searching for my weapon.”


Carth sputtered a bit, and said, “Wait, wait… you lost your lightsaber?” The absurdity of the realization actually made him chuckle, despite his sour mood from earlier. “Ha ha… isn’t that like a violation of some Jedi code, or something?”


“This is no laughing matter!” Bastila protested. “During the crash, my lightsaber must’ve — it must have slipped from my belt and rolled under my seat! The Vulkars probably found it there when they searched the wreckage.”


“Hey, hey, hey, don’t get mad. It’s just… funny… to think of a legendary Jedi losing her lightsaber. Take my advice: this is one detail you might want to keep out of the history texts!”


Bastila groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I hardly consider myself a ‘legend’, Carth. Though, I will consider your advice when I relate these events to the Jedi Council. There’s no need for them to know every detail of what’s transpired.”


They made it to their door in another minute, but Bastila’s face fell and motioned to stop.


“Carth… I don’t feel Miles’ presence inside, or anyone else’s!”


“What, you’re sure?”


Carth drew his blasters and Bastila gripped her lightsaber, and stayed to the sides as the door opened. The main room was completely empty, and they both made a sweep of the premises on their way in.


“Dammit to hell,” grumbled Carth. “I’m strangling that kid the moment I lay eyes on him.”


“There’s a note on the table,” said Bastila. She picked up the datapad and read, “'We’re going out to get some things and swing by the Outcasts in the Undercity. Be back soon. P.S., Mission objected. M.T.P.'”


Carth facepalmed. “No, I’m not going to strangle him. I’m going to shoot him in the face!”


“Carth!” Bastila hissed. “We can still deal with Prower’s antics calmly and rationally. We just need to find—”


Bang! Bang! Bang!


Both Carth and Bastila swung around and stared at their door. They both looked at each other, then back to the door as a second round of banging called for their attention. Bastila hid herself out of view, and Carth peeped through the door cam. Outside was a lone adult Twi’lek. Carth gripped his blaster, and opened.


“Greetings, Human,” he said. “I take it you know the furry devil who won the Great Swoop Race in the Lower City, yes? Quite impressive, I must say, as was his death match with Starkiller.”


Carth remained impassive. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve got the wrong flat. Sorry.”


“Ah, don’t be so sure. You see, you and your other friend were seen with him for the last several days. There are powerful people who keep tabs on people like you. Such impressive skills and talents don’t just stroll through here every day, you see.”


“All right. I’ll humor you a moment and play along with your theory. What of it?”


“I was hoping to catch him myself, but it seems he’s not here at the moment. Tell your little furry friend: I have a message from Canderous Ordo. He says to meet him in the Lower City cantina, the one you’ve visited in previous days. He says he has a proposition for you and your little friend. An offer you can’t refuse, so to speak.”


“Really,” said Carth. “Well, if I ever run into him, I’ll consider relaying the message.”


“Good idea. Given Ordo’s connections, it would be very wise to attend this meeting. Mandalorians are known for many things, but patience is not one of them. I would advise you not to delay too long.”


The Twi’lek messenger ran off, and Carth shut the door.


“Canderous Ordo,” echoed Bastila. “You’ve mentioned him — he’s one of Davik Kang’s enforcer’s, yes?”


“Yeah. We’ve bumped into him a couple of times. And yes, I know what you’re thinking.”


“This is our strongest lead by far! And to think it was his ‘antics’ that lead up to this.”


“In spite of them, Bastila,” said Carth. He sighed exasperatedly, and said, “Come on, let’s go find our ‘furry devil’. Though if he’s down there mucking with rakghouls, I’m going to strangle him, then shoot him.”