Clans part two

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Disclaimer: I own all of the characters within this work except for the BMFM and any characters from that show (generic enough for ya?) In all actuality, I own the Firestars (Goldenmane, Taura, Pikestar, Kat), Fireblades (Sharpshooter, Roughrider, Longbow, Hunter), Monarchs (but not the Monarchs themselves), Shimmers (Nazira, Stonewall), Sandstalkers (Kiritana), Longbows (Ehlani, Iritan), Sharpspears (Alala), Redmoons, Skytails, Raptors, and the Blackmoons. Confused? Good, 'cuz I am...

This story should clear up some things that started in "When Love Breaks" and finished with "Homecoming". That is, from Junior's time line, how the mice exist and work (or lack thereof) to rid Mars of the Plutarkians who remain. And why so many units (Rockers and Sabers aside) have names.

This story is set in Junior's time but after the events in Defiance, Rescue, Memories and Reunited. I make no money from this and do so only to bug people <wicked grin.>

The Clans of Mars

Part Two

The Last Stand

By Goldenmane

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Goldenmane sat in front of the vid screen and waited. Sometimes she wondered how the old computers at Marconia Base had lasted so long without maintenance. When Taura, Pikestar and she had arrived at Marconia, the base had been a wreck, so long abandoned. They set about immediately to make a home for themselves, one Pikestar often joked about being 'out of time.'

'Out of time,' she mused. 'Never have truer words been spoken.'

When the vid screen flickered to life, Goldenmane paused. She waited for her commands to finally go through the ageing system and smiled when she saw an elderly mouse bent over the keyboard before him.

"Greetings, Trask," Goldenmane said. "How are things today?"

"Eh?" Trask said, turning around. "That you again?"

Goldenmane chuckled. "I haven't been in this part of the system for a while. I need to know if you've come up with any info on my request?"

Trask shook his head and sighed. "You do know there is a war going on out there? Info has been lost. A lot of it. I can't even get what still exists catalogued and stored before some damn fool destroys it."

"I know, Trask," Goldenmane said, a faint smile on her lips. "But I need to know the events around the year 1945 Earth Time, on Mars."

"Yeah, yeah," he said with a wave of his hand. "Downloading it to ya now."

She watched the panel before her light up as the screen flickered off. 'Text only,' she mused. 'Just a well.'

When the download had completed, she brought up the file and leaned back in her chair. Soon the screen before her lit with a mass of words, nearly filling the screen. She started at the latter half of 1944 and worked her way down the line. Most of it she remembered first hand, chuckling at some of the comments left by later generations.

"If they'd only been there," she said with a chuckle.

Then she stopped and leaned ahead. "After the mysterious disappearance of special operation mice, the Army banned anyone from working for the Army, outside of the group itself. However, along with the disappearance and the nearly simultaneous disappearance and presumable deaths of one Army Unit in the Chryse Plains, came speculation that we, indeed, were not alone."

Goldenmane skipped down, musing to herself. "Not alone, but things never always are what they appear to be."

She paused again at a familiar name. "Splitfire, surviving mate of the late Goldenmane, was killed today in an Army training mishap. Army spokesmice labelled the incident unfortunate, though unavoidable. 'The mouse in question had been in a restricted area when the accident occurred,' the Army said in a comment. 'The matter is surely closed as the investigation has been completed.' . . . "

Goldenmane looked down, a tear falling from her cheek. She finally found what had happened to her mate after all those years, especially since her arrival into the future. She continued to read to herself as she wiped the tears from her face.

'Their son, aged two, had been handed over to Government authorities and shall be placed in a home for orphans.' Later on the page she read a line that broke her heart. 'A boy was found earlier today, dead of apparent attacks by unknown creatures, the boy, name withheld, is reported to be the son of the late Splitfire and Goldenmane. A funeral was held today outside of town.'

Goldenmane began to cry as she never had before. She had felt a sadness at leaving her mate and child of a few days whom they had not yet named, behind, but knew it had been for the best. She had come to a realization of why she now sat in the future, why no one had come to her rescue, and why Mari and Vinnie had left them there and why they had acted so unsure around her.

It had taken some time for her to adjust living in the future, never to see the world she had been familiar with. One of peace and tranquillity, not ravaged by years and years of war. When Taura, Pikestar and she had ridden by accident into Mari and Vinnie's transport field, she blamed them for everything. Though when a black bike had transported in and taken the time-stranded trio to another location on Mars, things started to become clearer.

Kat, their rescuer, had scrawled some notes she thought Goldenmane might need to know. A small addition on the end, written by one of the Monarchs filled in some more 'history.' Though not personal history, she had complained. She needed to know what had happened to her family in the preceding decades, not general history.

Though Goldenmane had finally understood the ramifications of time travel. In one instant she could do one little thing and irreversibly alter the time line she was in. Creating a sort of alternate time line to account for what she had changed. Yet how those changes would affect her personally, she did not know. She would not tempt fate, much as she would have loved to, to save her mate and son. She had made a vow to General Carbine she would never use her time travel abilities unless absolutely needed. She would never go back on her word.

Goldenmane had had some ideas about time travel once she had been filled in by Kat. It seemed that Kat had come from a further future to take them to safety, give them all the information they would need to form the Firestars, before she returned to her rightful time. Goldenmane had set herself to task, once Marconia Base had become operational again, to learn all she could about time travel.

She sighed as she wiped away the last tears. Taura, Pikestar and Kat would be arriving soon, she mused and she really should have the plans in order. Tonight the Firestars had planned to join with the Fireblades, Shimmers and the Sandstalkers in an attack on the Plutarkian outpost. She had set the maps and notes on the table in the centre of the command room and only barely glanced at them as she walked to the small window. She sat on the edge of the window and waited, the words of the file she had so desperately sought, echoed in her mind.

Goldenmane looked pensively out over the Chryse Plains. The rest of her small team had returned with the needed supplies, yet the Fireblades had not radioed in, nor had she seen any sign of their approach.

It had been several months since she had seen Mari and the Monarchs of the past - the Biker Mice. Kat had slowly healed, her own shoulder healed fine. There had been no signs of Junior's Warriors on Mars since their victory over Junior's Earth Fortress. Though all of the Units remained on alert as he still had a base on Mars. One they had determined themselves to destroy, one day.

The rest of her team did not seem the least bit concerned the Firestars had not arrived. Though Goldenmane did allow herself a quiet chuckle at Kat who currently cursed under her breath as she worked on her bike, Dragon.

Goldenmane shifted her weight, her tail curving loosely and graciously around her legs. She returned her mind to the files she had received, then onto Marconia. The old base had not seen a crew since the fall of the nearby city of Monument. No mouse survived that battle, she mused, and no other unit would take on the deserted Base. Goldenmane could feel the spirits of those brave mice who had died ages ago at the Battle of Monument. Except, of course, for the Rockers of whom history had mostly forgotten.

Involuntarily, she shivered.

Goldenmane sighed. The Fireblades, or at least four of them, had left the initial radio message they had left their base at Luna. At full speed, they should have reached Marconia nearly an hour ago. At a conservative speed, they should be visible any moment.

She tried to shift her focus from worry and focussed on something she had heard someone refer about one of the wars on Earth. Something about why they fought. Mice fought to defend their world from invaders who wished to destroy her. The humans, it seemed, just like to fight.

She reached over and picked up an old, musty book. She absently flipped through the book to pause at a page.

'We don't want war,' she read to herself. 'We're obliged to make war.'

On the bottom of the next page, she found a piece that struck deep. 'Whenever she looks an Israeli, any Israeli, she sees not a person but "an enemy, only an enemy.' " Something she had seen between the mice, Sand Raiders, and rats.

She let her mind wander back to her time. Yes, things had indeed changed. In her time the Sand Raiders had been little more than bandits and thieves, now they had allied themselves with the Plutarkians and caused more trouble than a simple raid. They had turned into slavers.

"When are they gonna get here?" Pikestar shouted suddenly, breaking her thoughts.

She did not remove her gaze from the red sands outside. "When they do."

The rats had gone into hiding soon after it had been discovered they worked for the Plutarkians, she continued to muse, or so she had read. She remembered how mice and rats once worked together in mutual cooperation.

Then there had been the elusive Sand Snakes who hadn't been seen since the start of the war. She had seen some of them before, but that was in her own time. Most thought they had stood up against the initial Plutarkian invasion, failing. Others still mused that they went underground when the fighting broke out, and wait to reclaim the surface after the destruction had ended.

Goldenmane looked back out over the sands. She began to worry. They should have arrived by now.

"Marconia Base," Roughrider's sudden shout over the com system startled Goldenmane. She rushed to the com.

"We're here, what's wrong?" Goldenmane asked, motioning for the others to get to their bikes.

"We're under attack by a band of Sand Raiders led by a handful of Plutarkians," Roughrider said, though he sounded out of breath. In the background Goldenmane could hear muffled explosions.

"Firestars on their way. We need co ordinates." She went to her bike, firing her black Harley's engine.

She punched in the co ordinates once receive and jammed helmet on. "Firestars, transport now."

With a flash they were in the middle of the Chryse Plains, breaking and attacking. Goldenmane specifically sought out Roughrider.

'I may have lost a son in the past, but I will not loose one now," Goldenmane promised herself.

When she found him safe, she continued her own battle with the Plutarkians. She wanted to blame every last one of them for her mishap in the past that led her to the future. Though she knew deep down inside, she couldn't. Things happened for a reason, she reassured herself as the Sand Raiders began to flee, leaving the Plutarkians to fall under the combined firepower. Just as things, now, continued to mould and shape both the future and the past.

"Never thought we'd shake 'em," Sharpshooter said as she slid to a halt near Goldenmane.

"We had started to worry," Goldenmane said. "But at least you are here now."

"Do you think our 'encounter' will change our odds?" Hunter asked.

Goldenmane shrugged. "That is yet to be seen. Let's get inside before anyone else interrupts us."

The two small groups entered Marconia and parked their bikes. They walked through the winding corridors until they reached the command room.

"How big an area are we to hit?" Sharpshooter asked, her chocolate eyes scanned the map before her.

"Far bigger than we like," Goldenmane said. She traced her finger along a mark she had made on the map. "I just want to make sure they call up any reinforcements once the Shimmers and the Sandstalkers move in for the kill."

Sharpshooter nodded. "When we move?"

"Later tonight. Nazira's going to move her forces into Sandstalker territory and rest. We'll transport in at the allotted time," Goldenmane said. "I want you to be fully rested before we strike."

Sharpshooter nodded again. "Where we gonna stay?"

"I'll show ya," Pikestar said. "May not be home, but it's second best."

"Says you," Longbow said, a gleam in his eye.

Sharpshooter only shook her head. "Fireblades, let's pack it in."

Goldenmane watched as they followed Pikestar, all that is, except Roughrider. Taura and Kat made a discrete exit, following the others.

"What do you think our odds are?" Roughrider asked after a brief silence.

"As good as it can be," Goldenmane responded. "Though that's not why you stayed. Something is on your mind."

Roughrider hesitated. "I've been talking with Sharpshooter and . . . well . . . I want to find out more about my parents."

Goldenmane slowly nodded. "I figured you'd ask long ago, not wait until now."

He half shrugged. "I guess I never thought about it while Junior was harassing us so much on Earth. But now that we have some peace and quiet . . . I hope you don't mind."

"I think it's good for you to ask," Goldenmane said, a smile on her face. "Have you asked Trask for any records?"

"Not yet."

"He can find almost anything for you, a good mouse he is," Goldenmane said.

Roughrider softly chuckled. "Does he know where our missing units went?"

"I don't think anyone really knows," she said with a sigh. "That is one mystery that only time will solve. If it is meant to be."

"Like who my birth parents are?"

Goldenmane nodded. "Exactly." She looked tenderly at her adopted son before laying a hand on his shoulders. "And yes, even you need some rest. We can talk later."

Roughrider smiled, turning. He paused at the door and looked back. "Thanks for not being mad at me . . . for wondering."

"I never could be mad at you," she said. "You may not be mine by blood, but you are my son."

He barely nodded and turned to walk down the corridor.

Goldenmane turned and walked to the vid screen. She punched in a set of codes and sent a message to Trask. Satisfied, she retired to her meager quarters to rest and prepare for the next day.

Though before she could rest, she opened her journal and read to herself. She paused on the entry detailing her adoption of the two-year-old nameless boy by a strange female mouse. Goldenmane paused and tapped the pencil against her chin. Her son had died at two, or so the records had said. However, it only listed the child as 'reported to be'.

Goldenmane laid down the journal and rummaged in her personal box. She removed a leather-bound book and carefully opened the pages. Trask had wanted her book the day he found out about it. He had said something about antiquity. She did have to admit the book's age did make it an antique, yet in actual terms, the book was only a few decades old.

'Spitfire and I still haven't decided on a name for our son. He wants a strong, hard-edged name, I want something that fits his personality. Tomorrow we will continue our discussions,' she read to herself. 'Taura and Pikestar think something may be amiss in Chryse, though I know for sure there can be none. The Army has a unit there in training, though I will humour them and check it out.'

"And look what that gained us," she mused.

It had taken her no time to name Roughrider. The mouse had said he came from a good home, broken by a tragic set of circumstances. He had lived a rough life, though, of that she could say. The child had taken an almost instinctual attachment to Goldenmane and that was when she decided on a name.

Goldenmane sighed. She checked the time and sighed once more. Unable to rest, she headed for the bike bay to check on her bike and replenish the weapons. All the while she mused about her past life and the one she lived now.