|
|
This is a work of fiction that I am in no way making any money off of. It is not intended to infringe on anyone else’s copyright. It is however something that I wrote and I would ask that you please ask me first before using the reality or original characters I’ve created.
Biker Mice from Mars FanFiction
Chapter Two
Things Change: Once Found
By Kat
10/20/99
Things had been going rather well for Mars over the last few years. The Plutarkians had been driven back so far that it was almost like they didn’t even exist. Life was slowly starting to return to some semblance of normality. Unfortunately reconstruction had been slow. Since the Plutarkians had devastated all of Mars’ natural resources, the Martian Mice had to find other ways to rebuild.
Before the war, Mars had been a thriving planet that had been nearly self-sufficient. Interstellar commerce was completely for luxury items. Exotic foods, custom alloys, jewels and various other non-essentials were the only trade outside the planet. Now that the Plutarkians had left their planet in ruin, the Martian Mice, for the first time in their history, had to look outside for the bare necessities like soil, water and grain.
Of course since they had very little in the way of trade, other than physical labor, they had to be creative. They had to find something to sell, but what could you sell when you had nothing but miles upon miles of sand, rock and mountains? You rent the space to wealthy investors that want to use it for trill racing, of course!
It all got started when a couple of Freedom Fighters challenged a few military mice to a race. A grain trader made a side bet on the race’s outcome with one of the Freedom Fighters and lost. The trader wanted a rematch with a racer of his own as the challenger. The competition was fierce, but no matter whom the trader got to race the same mouse won time and time again. It became such an obsession to the trader to beat this mouse that when the Martian’s duties called him away, the trader offered to pay an un-godly amount of money for the mouse to continue racing. By this time many other Martians and other Off-worlders were into the races.
The Martian government, seeing potential in this, acted quickly and offered to rent out land for the high pace, high grossing sport to the Off-world investors that also saw money making on the horizon. Within a few months Mars went from having no resources to have a very profitable commodity that was putting Mars back on its feet. Of course Vincent Van Wham took the bows for single handedly saving the planet. After all he WAS the prolific racer that had gotten this whole thing started (even if it was Throttle’s bets that had infuriated the trader into coming back again and again.) But even though Vinnie was the hero of the century it was cutting no ice with Chance Davidson.
Chance glared at his white furred uncle in front of him. His arms crossed and his hips set in such a way that reminded anyone that knew her of his mother. Of course he resembled his mother very little physically except for his green eyes. Chance was a seven-year-old ball of fire. He was taller than most boys his age, but since his ears drooped a little it was hard to tell. His light, dove gray fur was short and velvet soft causing him no end of embarrassment at school. (Boys were supposed to be cool. Not soft and cuddly!) His shorter than regulation tail whipped around behind him, showing his displeasure, if his set and determined face didn’t.
Chance had never seen his mother, except in pictures, and his father was a nameless Martian test subject, but in a strange way he had known his mother. Chance was born with the ability to feel other’s emotions, and to a limited degree, read minds. It was a direct result of crossing human latent psychic potential with Martian touch telepathy. At least that was what the doctors said.
Chance’s earliest memories were of how much his mother loved him, even though she had never seen him. His mother had suffered unimaginable atrocities, but through it all one thought, one need, kept her going, fighting. She had to free her son.
Right now Chance wasn’t felling very free.
"Do I have to go to school?" the young mouse hybrid complained.
"Yes," all three of his adopted uncles said in unison.
Chance continued to glare at the figure in front of him, refusing to lift his arms so that Vinnie could pull his red tank top over his head. Vinnie was having none of this. A meaningful look that indicated that Vinnie was NOT playing around this time caused Chance to lift his arms for his uncle.
"Why?" Chance asked. The question muffled though the fabric of his shirt.
Throttle answered for all of them from underneath Chance’s bed. "School is a very impotent part of life." Roughly translated from adult to child meant, ‘I had to suffer, so do you.’
"Chance? Where ARE your shoes?" Throttle asked, biting off a curse when he hit his head coming out from under the bed.
Chance gave his other uncle a long-suffering look. The little boy pointed to a shelf that was impossible for even Throttle to reach without help, acting like it was the most logical place on Mars for a seven year old to put his shoes. Throttle hung his head in defeat and dragged Chance’s desk chair over so that he could retrieve the footwear.
"Do I have to go today? It’s race day!" Chance continued to complain letting, Throttle put his black tennis shoes that matched his black jeans on for him.
"Chance, please. No more arguing," Modo said looking around the room. "Where are your books?"
Chance pointed to the closet and tried one more time to explain his situation, "But, it’s race day!"
"Chance!" all three Biker Mice exclaimed.
"What exactly is going on in here?" Ivory said from the doorway in her oversized pink robe.
"We are trying to get Chance ready for school before he’s late, and this time it’s not my fault," Vinnie explained.
"But, it’s race day," Ivory said giving them a strange look.
"Is there an echo in here?" Modo said from within the closet, coming out with Chance’s books putting them in the bookbag Throttle held open for him.
"Listen Sweetheart. I like racing as much as the next mouse, but school is school and Chance has to go. Or Throttle will have my hide." He whispered the last part for Ivory’s ears only.
"All right. If you say so, but he’ll be the only one there. They cancelled school on account of the race," Ivory told them, leaving the room.
The three adult male mice looked at Chance looked at each other and then looked at Chance again.
"Get ‘im. bros," Throttle said dropping the bookbag in his hands onto Chance’s unmade bed.
Chance, seeing the gleam of revenge in his uncles’ eyes, quickly left the room, grinning the whole time. The Biker Mice tried to follow but they soon found out that three 6 feet and over muscular mice could NOT fit through the same door at the same time.
"I tried to tell ya," Chance yelled back as he ran hell bend for leather down the hall. He blew by Ivory calling back to his guardian as he left the house.
"See ya later, Ivory!"
"Be careful and have a good time," she called back, then gave a shriek as she was bowled over.
"Sorry, ma’am."
"Excuse us, Ivory."
"Sorry Sweetheart."
Chance couldn’t help but laugh out loud. His uncles running into Ivory had gained him a led, but he was going to need some help if he was going to get away. He bolted out the door and ran straight for the bikes. A very small, almost unobservable, spark passed between his pink antenna when he called out to them.
"Escape plan: Split Alpha," Chance called out and the three Martian bikes roared to life.
Vinnie and Throttle’s bikes tore off in opposite directions leaving a very detectable trail of dust in their wake. Modo’s bike waited for Chance to hop on and then sped off in a third direction. As soon as they were out of sight of the house, the bike stopped and let its rider get off before continuing on. Chance ran to the nearest house and walked through the front door.
"Hey, Mrs. Nors," he said as he went through her kitchen to the back door, "Bye, Mrs. Nors," Chance said as he left.
Mrs. Nors only grinned and caught the back door before it slammed shut and watched the young mouse half-breed vault over the short back wall and into the yard behind her. Chance entered that house in a similar manner as her own. Before long Mrs. Rav, that lived behind her, opened her back door and made her way to the wall the separated them.
"There he goes again," Mrs. Nors said shaking her head.
"Have you ever seen a child with so much life and charisma?" Mrs. Rav asked, adjusting the belt of her robe.
Mrs. Nors snorted, but grinned. "Fire and Magic… dangerous combination. Take my advice. Warn Chass about him, before she loses her heart."
Mrs. Rav looked back to her home where her five-year-old daughter, Chass, still slept, "I have a few more years left before the hormones kick in, but I’ll kept your advice in mind. Where does the time go? It seems like only yesterday they were only babies."
"Time moves quick when life is good and crawls when times are bad."
The two women looked at each other. Without saying another word they knew what the other was thinking. Torren, the Plutarkian prison moon. Both women had spent a large part of their lives on that rock. She, along with Mrs. Rav, was apart of the Liberation of Torren over five years ago. They had shared a cell together for seven years. Chance and Ivory had been in the same cell also. The two of them had a hand in raising the little one during the early years. After the prisoners were free many members of the same cells settled together in communities, having become close during their imprisonment.
Mrs. Nors had been captured while serving in the military. Her husband had died in the war along with her daughter that had followed in her footsteps. Sometimes she would wonder why she kept going, then she would remember her granddaughter and realize she would live though a thousand more Torrens just to see that little girl grow up. Mrs. Rav was a free citizen taken by the Plutarkians as a show of strength. She had met her husband on the prison moon. They buried their first two children together in that place. Now she had a beautiful little girl and another child on the way. Both women owed a lot to a woman they had never met. A human that they were told gave Chance his spark of life.
Charlene Davidson was one of the many casualties of the Martian/Plutarkian War. An ordinary person that was made extraordinary because she died for a world that was not her own, for a race that was not hers. She so loved three representatives of this red planet, which had come to be closer to her then brothers, that she gave her life without a second thought. It was a sacrifice that none of them had forgotten.
"Well, if we’re going to make it to the track before the race starts we better get going now," Mrs. Nors said.
In the distance, the two ladies could hear a mock battle cry of ‘Let’s Rock… n’ Ride’ as three powerful engines roared in unison. The boys were after Chance again.
"You think they’ll catch him this time?" Mrs. Rav asked.
"Probably not, but it will be fun to watch."
"You’re going to the race?"
"Are you kidding?! Of course! It’s going to be the first time Vincent hasn’t entered the Galactic 5000. Who knows who will win." Mrs. Nors said.
"Why didn’t Vinnie enter this time?"
"Didn’t you hear?" At the negative shake of Mrs. Rav’s head Mrs. Nors leaned over the fence and explained. "Remember last week when they had the time trials? Well, Chance somehow caught a human virus and was desperately sick. Vincent wouldn’t leave his side and missed the trials and couldn’t enter."
"It’s hard to believe sometimes how much that little boy has matured those three."
Mrs. Nors snorted, "Their four kids. Three big ones and one small one. Did you hear about the food fight they started in the mess hall on base. I heard that Carbine banded them for life?"
The two friends gossiped the morning away and ended up missing the start of the race. Chance however was making sure he didn’t. He took back streets and back yards and all the shortcuts. He was most of the way there when Stoker found him. Chance flagged down the older mouse and asked for a ride. Stoker, always looking for a way to annoy Chance’s uncles, agreed. In no time, Chance was in his season seat, a mountain of hot dogs in the seat beside him and a case of rootbeer under his feet, all placed on Vinnie’s tab by Stoker, of course. Chance grabbed the dog on top and munched, knowing that if he wanted any at all that he needed to get his before his uncles arrived.
"I wonder who’s racin’?" Chance asked out loud, to no one in particular, and was very surprised when someone answered.
"If you wish to know the names of the entrants you may have my program. I have already entered all of their names, according to skill and speed, into my pad and no longer need it."
Chance looked around him, trying to see who was talking to him. When he saw no one he was puzzled. It wasn’t until he heard the person say ‘down here’ that he looked into the row below him and realized why he hadn’t immediately seen the speaker before.
It was a blue skinned, Tulsan female. She couldn’t have been more than four feet tall, average for a Tulsan, which made her just little taller than Chance. Her golden hair was cut short into a bob that all Tulsans wore, but her eyes were sea foam green that indicated she was female.
The young mouse wasn’t use to looking down at an adult. Chance took the offered program and tried really hard not to stare like Modo taught him. Tulsans, very rarely left their own system, and as far as Chance knew they never attended anything that was remotely frivolous.
"You’re a fan?" Chance asked surprised.
"Hardly," the Tulsan said, sounding very put out by being there. "My charge has entered. I am here as her road crew."
"Really? What’s her number?" Chance asked, very curious to see a Tulsan on a motorcycle.
"Eleven."
Chance scanned down the list of competitors. He recognized many names, including Rimfire’s, he was number seven. The driver’s name listed under eleven was Lucifer and for the pit crew, which for a cycle race was usually four people, was one name, Kaals.
Through the massive view screen provided for the crowd, Chance saw the racer with the number eleven sewn on to the back of a black race suit had a deep metallic red helmet on. The female that stood there was far too tall to be a Tulsan.
"Lucifer is a strange name," Chance remarked casually.
"It’s a misprint. Her motorcycle is named Lucifer," Kaals said, placing what appeared to be a hearing aid into her right ear.
Chance was about to ask another question when someone grabbed him from behind.
"I think somebody needs to be reminded that reprogramming his uncles’ bikes is not allowed."
Chance could tell by Throttle’s voice that he wasn’t really mad, plus his empathic sense told him that the tan mouse was even a little proud of him and his resourcefulness. He also knew that pulling that kind of stunt too often would NOT be tolerated, but today his uncles were going to let it slide.
Throttle hoisted Chance over his shoulder so that the boy hung down his back like a bat. From his upside-down position, Chance could do little to defend himself from Modo when the tall mouse began to tickle him, all he could do was shriek with laughter and beg for mercy.
"Hey, little bro. Where’d the grub come from?" Vinnie asked, already stuffing two in his mouth.
"Stoker got ‘em. He said you’d pay for it later."
Vinnie started to choke and Modo pounded him on the back a little harder than was necessary. This prompted Vinnie to elbow the gray mouse in the gut. Modo retaliated by putting Vinnie in a headlock and rubbing his knuckles roughly between his friend’s antenna. Vinnie was about to pull Modo’s feet out from under him with his tail when someone from behind them yelled out.
"Down in front! The race’s about to start!"
"Sorry," both mice apologized.
Throttle hauled Chance back over his shoulder. The two of them came nose to nose and whispered ‘Kids’ to each other and laughed, sharing a private joke. All four of them took their seats and divided the hot dogs and rootbeer between them. The mice were playfully ragging on each other, joking and laughing. Kaals had had enough.
"Would you please desist from that juvenile behavior. I am unable to hear," Kaals said, indicating the earpiece.
"Kaals’ friend is in the race. She’s number eleven," Chance told his uncles.
"Is that so?" Vinnie said leaning over the seat and looking over the Tulsan’s shoulder. "You do realize that if I was in the race she wouldn’t have a chance of winning." Vinnie informed Kaals with a smirk.
"This is true. Your skill along with the speed and design of your bike make the odds of you losing remote under quotidian circumstances, however with enough time and planning even you can be defeated," Kaals said as she worked on the computer pad in her hand.
"Was I just insulted?" Vinnie asked his bros, to which both of them shrugged.
"Hello race fans, and welcome to the fourth annual Galactic 5000!" the commentator said on the loud speakers over the roar of the crowd.
"This year we have 25 contestants going for the Grand Prize of 500,000 ruez," the crowd roared again. The commentator continued to talk about the history of the race and other commentator type stuff that was extremely boring to the guys.
"So, what made Rimfire decide to race this year, Modo," Throttle asked.
"Well, you know Rimfire. Normally he wouldn’t care much about this kind of stuff, but ever since Karie got pregnant he’s been thinkin’ about the future and stuff like that. He wants the prize money so that he can get a place at the base of Mt. Olympus."
Modo and Throttle continued to talk about Rimfire, Karie and the baby, while Vinnie and Chance were having a chat of their own.
"Your not mad at me that you couldn’t be in the race, are ya Vinnie?" Chance asked the white mouse, feeling guilty that his uncle missed his opportunity to be in the race because of him.
"Heck, no. I’ll have more fun up here watchin’ you watch the race then actually being in it," Vinnie said to Chance, and then leaned into him to whisper, "But when we go home why don’t we race Modo and Throttle, just to make sure they remember who the best is."
Chance grinned and whispered ‘OK’ to his uncle. Vinnie was Chance’s ‘fun’ uncle. It was like having an older friend instead of an adult around when he was with Vinnie. If Chance was in trouble it was usually with Vinnie. Throttle was his ‘serious’ uncle. Throttle always made sure his homework and chores were done and that he was obedient. Modo was a cross between the two of them. He was fun most of the time, but serious when he needed to be. Chance loved his uncles equally and even though Ivory was his guardian he always thought of them as his true family.
Soon the excitement in the stands led to chanting cheers and waves. Down below the racers were getting ready, making last minute adjustments and changes. Each racer had a pit crew hovering around them, helping them with anything they needed, except for number eleven. She stood alone at her place on the starting line, even her bike was nowhere to be seen.
"I think you better tell your friend to hurry up and get her bike, unless she plans on running the race," Vinnie told the Tulsan as she continuously typed on her computer pad.
"Do not concern yourself. We are well prepared."
"The race is starting in thirty seconds. You’ll never get ready in time," Chance said, confused by the calm he felt from Kaals.
"You will see."
"…Now what you all have been waiting for… Gentlemen and Ladies… start your engines!"
The deafening roar of the crowd was swallowed by the thunder of 24 high-octane engines coming to life. The signal on the starting line started counting down and the riders on the line were holding their bikes in check, making sure that their front tires did not cross the solid white line before the go light because that would stop the race. The clock counted down… ten… nine… eight… and still rider eleven stood at the line with no bike.
Throttle, Modo, Vinnie and Chance hung on the edge of their seats. They knew it was impossible for Kaals friend to get her ride in time, but the Tulsan was calmly siting, typing on her computer that displayed its own countdown. The four captivated mice look up at the huge display that was for the crowd to watch the race and stared at number eleven. She was crouched at the starting line looking all the world like she was going to run the race.
Chance happened to look at Kaals just as she turned to look in the opposite direction of the race. The seven-year-old squinted to see what had the Tulsan’s attention and saw a huge cloud of dust that contained a riderless motorcycle speeding towards the starting line. The instant the countdown hit ‘one’ rider eleven flipped backwards and by the time it hit ‘zero’ she was on her bike crossing the starting line at top speed.
Because the big screen showed the backs of the racers it wasn’t until Kaals’ friend was on her bike and speeding away from the line that anyone else in the crowd, or at the start, knew what was happening. The crowd gasped and fell silent and the twenty-four other racers hesitated before taking off. The announcer stuttered, not knowing what to say. All eyes turned to the race clock, wondering if number eleven’s unique start had been legal. Since it kept counting up the start was legitimate.
"You have got to show me how she did that!" Vinnie exclaimed leaning over Kaals’ shoulder, much more interested in the race now.
"In a surprise move, Number Eleven has vaulted into a substantial led. I can tell you one-thing folks, this race is going to be much more interesting once everyone learns that move. If eleven can keep this pace up, she’ll have a good chance of losing her closest competition, Rimfire, the race’s favorite."
Kaals knew the announcer was right. An earth 2000 FLSTS Heritage Springer was no match in speed or maneuverability with a Martian Hawkwing, even with all of the interactive modifications. The supped up, black cherry red bike with a Martian AI operating system, named Lucifer by its master, needed to take every turn in the canyon raceway perfectly. On her palm computer, Kaals monitored the race and advised the best that she could.
"Turn one is a forty-five degree exit. Top speed with hard banking is recommended," Kaals said speaking into the comm link of the computer.
Number eleven made the turn perfectly losing no ground or momentum, however her closest rival, Rimfire took the turn very sharp and narrowly escaped hitting the canyon wall. Kaals quickly recalculated Rimfire’s course and to her dismay found that in five more turns he will have made up the ground between them. Sure enough on the sixth turn he was nipping at number eleven’s heels.
"Take turn six tightly. Force racer seven to take a wider turn," Kaals said to her partner as she typed furiously on her computer.
Number eleven started to take the turn as instructed, but Kaals had under estimated Rimfire’s desire to win. The Martian mouse also tried to take the turn sharply and with his front tire being so close to Lucifer’s back one the two rubbed with disastrous results. Lucifer, being a much heavier bike, wavered only slightly with the contact. Rimfire’s Hawkwing however careened wildly and the young racer was unable to regain control.
"Rimfire!" Modo called out when he realized the trouble his nephew was in.
Rimfire tumbled several times with his bike, ending up underneath it in the middle of the track around the corner of the narrow blind turn six. The crowd gasped and the commentator asked for quiet so that the road crews could warn their people of the crash. The fans complied, but they had seen enough races and enough crashes to know that there was no way for Rimfire to get out of the way in time. The turn was too narrow for all the other riders to miss him and he was dazed and confused from the accident. Rimfire didn’t know his up from his down.
"Is Rimfire gonna be OK, Vinnie?" Chance asked, clearly on the edge of tears.
Before he could answer Kaals stood up backward in her seat and got in his face.
"What is Rimfire’s communications frequency?!" the Tulsan demanded.
Throttle was the only one thinking clearly enough to answer. "Standard Freedom Fighter prefix… 4141548.2. But how will that…"
Kaals held up her hand for silence and spoke loud and commandingly into the microphone in the hand held computer. "Rimfire. Hold out your left hand. No, your other left!"
In the view screen they watched Rimfire hold out his left hand. In a streak of deep red, Lucifer approach the downed rider. Kaals friend had turned around the instant she knew the other rider was down, she held out her own left hand and snagged the Martian. With a powerful yank Rimfire was free of his bike and on the other bike behind his rescuer. As the two of them raced away from the accident, a grappling claw launched from under Lucifer’s seat and the Hawkwing was pulled out of the way just as the other racers turned the corner.
"Yeah!" Modo yelled, picking up Kaals and swinging her in a circle.
"Please extricate yourself from my person," Kaals said, trying to desperately push away from the excitedly relieved mouse.
"Huh?"
"She said put her down, bro," Thottle translated for his friend.
"Oh! Sorry, ma’am."
"Quite all right. Just do not let it happen again. I…" Kaals paused, holding her four fingered hand to her pointed ear that held the earphone.
"The last turn is an 180 degree turn with high banking walls…" Kaals said a puzzled look on her flat blueface.
The one corner of the viewing screen displayed the two riders that had dropped out of the running. The woman in the black racing suit pulled Rimfire’s helmet from his head. She checked behind his ear for injuries. Her right gloved hand came away green with blood. She unzipped the front of her suit and pulled out a scarf. She wrapped Rimfire’s wound with it.
"That plan of action is ill advised. None of the models I have constructed show more than a seven- percent success rate. I do not recommend…"
Racer eleven vaulted back on her bike and spun tires speeding after the led pack.
"Yes, it is physically possible, but the chance of recovery is less than… Do not tell me to shut up. I am your keeper. I can not… Do not take that tone with me and besides I do not believe it is even possible for THAT to fit THERE."
"What’s goin’ on?" Vinnie asked, pulling at the distressed females robed shoulder.
"She wishes to win the race and has devised a course of action that will more than likely result in grave injury. Please excuse me. I have to be at the finish line to pick up the pieces."
Kaals jumped down out of her seat and disappeared into the sea of spectators. The four mice looked at each other and shrugged.
"What do ya think she’s gonna do?" Modo asked, picking Chance up so he could see over the other fans that had stood up to view the end of the race.
"If it were me I’d slingshot out of that last turn using the walls to create extra thrust with centrifugal force," Vinnie said as his bros stared at him stunned.
"She wouldn’t do that, would she?" Thottle said watching the view screen, which at the moment was centered on the led pack. "I mean your bike is light enough to do that kind of thing. She’ll crash for sure as heavy as her bike is."
The camera centered itself on the front five of the led pack. It followed them down the straightaway and into the last turn. About midway through the turn a figure could be seen on the canyon wall. Sure enough it was number eleven. At first no one but Vinnie, Modo, Throttle and Chance noticed, but slowly the crowd began to point at the screen and whisper excitedly to themselves.
At the very end of the turn, where the canyon wall finally went flat, racer eleven was catapulted off the wall and jetted past the other racers that had to slow down in the turn. She was over the finish line before her front tire even hit the ground just inches before the other racers. When Lucifer did touch ground Throttle’s prediction proved true. Lucifer was too heavy and when its back tire hit the ground it rebounded causing the front tire to hit the track savagely. The front and back tires seesawed back and forth a few times before the bike turned sideways and skidded 100 yards to a stop.
The crowd choked silent as the race’s winner laid unmoving a pace away from her bike. Lucifer quickly righted itself and stood vigil at its master’s side. The other racers were not far behind and were the first on the scene, but Lucifer refused to let anyone near the fallen rider. Soon the paramedics arrived and tried to assist entrant number eleven, but Lucifer would not be moved. The ERTs tried to come at the bike and rider from all directions but Lucifer retaliated by encircling itself and its rider with a burning gel that it shot from a nozzle attached to its handlebars.
"Come on. Let’s see if we can help," Throttle said as he led the way through the crowd.
Chance rode on Modo’s shoulders and watched the big screen while his uncles walked. Lucifer continued to circle its master and showed more and more aggravation as time wore on. Because the racetrack was laid out so that the start and the finish were at the stands it wasn’t a long walk to the accident. Unfortunately the crush of bodies trying to see slowed the mice progress. As they forced their way through the crowd Chance watched from his high perch as Kaals made her way to her friend.
Lucifer didn’t seem any happier to see Kaals than it did the others, but at least it started to calm down a bit. Kaals grabbed an extinguisher from one of the stunned Emergency Response Team members and cleared a small opening for herself in the ring of fire Lucifer had made. Lucifer still half-heartedly tried to stop Kaals, but the Tulsan just pushed the bike away. Without Lucifer to supply the gel the fire ring burned itself out as Kaals knelt next to her friend. The paramedics and rescue crews would not approach the fallen rider because of Lucifer, but the Biker Mice had no such problems.
"Do ya need some help ma’am?" Modo asked, putting Chance down on the ground.
"No, I am capable of fixing her on my own, thank you," said while typing on her key pad beside the injured female.
The mice gave each other strange looks. Kaals sure had a funny way of talking about her friend and her bedside manner left much to be desired. Kaals continued to type away on her computer and had not touched the fallen biker once.
"Are you sure you don’t need any help taking her to the hospital?" Throttle asked thinking that maybe the Tulsan had misunderstood what they were talking about.
Suddenly the woman in black before them started to jurk rhythmically and making gasping sounds that could be heard from inside her deep red helmet.
"She can’t breath! You need to take her helmet off," Vinnie said as he grasped the helmet firmly in his hands and pulled.
"NO!" Kaals yelled but it was too late, the damage had been done.
Vinnie put the helmet aside and was surprised to see that the female had rather long hair that was braided and stuffed into her helmet. The length of it fell out across his crouched lap and the dark auburn red of it seemed awfully familiar somehow. The racer had a knit mask on to keep the sweat out of her eyes like most furless riders did. Vinnie tried to remove that too, but Kaals forcibly pushed him aside.
"That is quite enough help. You could have broken her spinal cord if she had of had a neck injury. If you don’t mind, please leave."
Chance stared at the blue skinned woman. Kaals was visibly upset, but the emotions he felt from her were nervous at best, like she had been caught doing something she shouldn’t. There was no real fear for her partner’s safety or anger at Vinnie for what he had done, but Kaals was worried that she was going to be found out… no… her friend was going to be found out.
While Modo, Vinnie, Throttle and Kaals argued about the downed racer’s care, Chance inched his way over without them noticing. Something made him want to see beyond the mask. He picked up the end of her braid and fingered the loose ends. He had seen that color before, in a picture. Chance’s curiosity got the better of him and he slowly rolled up the mask over number eleven’s face.
Her skin was smooth and pale and seemed to be dotted with glitter along its surface. Chance looked closer and realized that the shimmering specs were not glitter but monofilament metal wires that came to the surface of her skin from underneath. Her lips had a higher concentration of the metal flecks and had an overall silvery-pink sheen to them. At the nape of her neck was a solid metal plate with a covered access port. The metal plate that started at her hairline thinned and followed her spine down into her clothing. Chance gently turned the woman’s head towards him so he could see her face better and was shocked to realize he knew her.
Around his neck he wore a locket. His uncle Vinnie had given it to him on his seventh birthday. The white mouse had felt that Chance was old enough to take care of it now. There was an inscription on the back, ‘To the Best Sweetheart a Biker Ever Had’. Chance pulled the locket from under his shirt. He slipped his fingernail in-between the locket’s halves and separated them. He opened it and compared the smiling face in the photo with the person before him. They were the same.
"Momma?"
Chance’s small squeak caught Modo’s ear and the tall mouse turned to see what was going on. He looked first at Chance’s tear streaked, excited face and then to the woman lying beside him. His heart stopped and his mind froze. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He tapped Throttle’s shoulder, but the tan mouse wouldn’t stop his argument with Kaals to turn around. Modo yanked on his bro’s tail to get his attention.
"Ouch, Modo! What on Mars is so important that you have to pull my tail out?" Throttle demanded.
"Charlie?" Vinnie whispered having found out about the human on his own.
Chance winced when he felt the panic in Kaals’ heart at their discovery. The azure skin of the Tulsan paled to gray and her eyes brightened to a teal color. She quickly forced her way passed the guys and pushed Chance from his mother’s body.
"Lucifer! Non-lethal escape."
The bike roared to life. It spun its tires throwing sand and dirt in the air causing a thick dust cloud that it colored red with smoke from its tail pipe. Chance could hear his uncles coughing and swearing as they lost sight of Kaals, Charlie and Lucifer. Since he was closer to his mother than they were he was able to just make out Kaals at Charlie’s side. She took a plug from her pad computer and jacked into the port he had seen in the back of his mother’s neck. Charlie sat bolt upright in her place. She grabbed Kaals around the waist and hopped on the bike. Within seconds all of them were gone.
"Chance!" Modo yelled into the smoke and dirt, unable to see past the end of his nose.
"I’m over here Modo!" Chance called back, heading in the direction of his uncle’s voice.
"Where did they go?!" Vinnie asked Throttle desperately.
"I don’t know, but I’m gonna make sure they can’t get far."
Throttle went to the nearest Emergency Transport vehicle and with out asking took the radio. He quickly tuned the frequency and shouted over the line.
"Carbine!"
"For Cheese sakes, Throttle. What’s your problem? You can’t be screaming over the…"
"Later, Carbine. I need you to make sure that no ships leave Mars."
"What!?"
"You heard me. I don’t want any ships leaving until we can search them."
"Throttle are you crazy! I can’t just close down the ports. It would be mass chaos. What are you looking for?"
"It’s Charlie. She’s here on Mars and we’ve got to make sure she doesn’t leave."
The line went silent for a moment. It was pretty clear that Carbine was having trouble believing what Throttle was telling her.
"Charlene? Throttle… she’s dead. You said so yourself," replied quietly hoping to not upset her friend.
"I know Carbine, but it’s her. I saw her with my own eyes. You can’t let any ships leave!"
"Throttle… I can’t do that. I can’t shut down the shipping lanes because you think you’ve seen someone that’s been dead five years."
"Carbine, I’m telling you it’s her. You’ve got to help us," Throttle was starting to sound desperate and he was. Charlie was back from the dead and it seemed that just as they found her she was taken from them again.
"I can make a delay. I’ll tell them that we’re having trouble with the flight computer or something, but I don’t think I can hold them off more than twenty minutes. I’m sorry that’s all I can do."
"Then it’s got to be enough."
Throttle disconnected the line and quickly re-modulated the frequency. Within seconds Stoker answered on the other line.
"Yeah, what do you want?"
"Stoke, I need you to get as many Freedom Fighters as you can to help search the ports."
"What?"
"Just listen. Charlie’s here. She’s with a Tulsan female, about four feet tall, and she’s hurt. She’s may be riding a dark red Earth bike, I’m not sure of the make and model. I…"
"Whoa! Hold up there a minute. Charlie… but she’s…"
"Yes, I know. She’s dead, but I’m telling you she’s alive and here on Mars. Carbine’s going to hold all ships for as long as she can. I need you to search the all transports and private vessels. I have a feeling that they’re going to try and jump planet."
"All right Throttle. I’ll do it, but I expect a full account."
"You’ll get it. Throttle, out."
Throttle turned to his bros. Chance was hanging on tightly to Modo’s thigh, trying very hard not to look at scared as he was. Throttle knew that Chance was picking up their emotions and it was frightening him. Modo just patted the boy on the back, giving as much comfort as he could.
"Come on, Vinnie. We’re going to the spaceport. Modo, you take Chance home and then met us there."
"I want to come," Chance said, pulling himself away from Modo.
Modo knelt down before the young half-breed and took his small shoulders in his hands. "I know ya’ do little bro, but right now we don’t know what’s going on and it might be too dangerous."
"All right, but don’t hurt Kaals. She’s scared."
"What do you mean ‘scared’?" Throttle asked.
"She’s scared for Momma, and for you."
"Well, she better be scared OF us, because if she’s done something to Charlie…"
"Stand down Vincent. Until we find out exactly what’s going on we can’t pass judgment," Modo said, hoisting Chance into his arms.
As the other two mice walked away Vinnie knelt were Charlie had lain just minutes ago. The ground was damp. He touched it with his fingertips and found that they were smeared red with blood.
"Watch me."
End chapter two