Charlene Davidson's been living with biker bros for three years by now. And in a way human mechanic seems to know Martian vigilantes even better than herself. But facts she is sure about them she can count by the fingers of her both hands. So the girl keeps collecting information they are ready to share or puzzling hints they drop occasionally.
Short visit to their home planet raised a lot of questions.
The team have successfully returned to Earth from Mars to fulfill their mission. Jokes, bravado and pride are shaking the air. With Limburger tower broken to pieces and Brie fleeing back to Detroit everything seems fine and back to normal. Well, as normal as one can expect from a secret war. And this is when the lady Fate gives the girl her golden key to an understanding of her friends who by this date didn't even start to look alien despite their background.
So maybe – just maybe – it's time to continue investigation and find out for sure what words "seem" and "know", "normal" and "alien" may hide. Knowing a foe is handy. Same works for a friend, right?
And while she does just that things that were and were not planned off her world years ago start finally come up one by one…
Disclaimers and warnings.
I make no profit of this and, alas, own no one from BMFMs official Universe. But for personalities and actions of anyone who didn't come within those awesome series and will appear in text… well, blame me. Any AU changes or speculations about the characters, world, its laws and lore that were not mentioned in the original cartoon and appear in text – blame me.
This is not the first writing experience in my life, but for BMFM world and English text – it is. So, please, feel free to correct me if I use words in a wrong way and ask me why some things are the way they are in this fic if you feel they are wrong.
Haters of any characters, may you be at peace with yourself and me. I respect your special opinion but love all heroes equally. Villains included.
M – for language, themes, references. A lot of character inner research and darker coloring at some point. 'Tis a war going on.
Thank you very much for your time and – I hope as I write – enjoy!
01. Night of long talks.
Few hours before the midnight. Summer solstice. Freedom Fighters main base. Mars.
Can with spirits show him the bottom. And that was not even a middle of the summer solstice celebration, its night "funny" part. Those who didn't have orders to stay on guard could get some action at plain festivities: card games, drinks, stories, humble dances and other things not-too-beyond regulations were allowed. In the day the difference with old times was almost unseen, but now… Silent shadows moved from one company to another through the halls, like ghosts. Any fight occasionally happening here and there eventually stopped, like fire that lacked the oxygen to live longer. Music as loud as it was did not survive the fight with red sandy walls of underground fortress.
There were no grand fires, no crowd against a crowd activities, no choiring songs, no burning insanity under clear skies in dimmed shine of two moons and an ocean of stars in a name of All-Fires Mother.
Quiet mice in ground holes. Eyes warned, claws and knives sharp, fire-arms aiming the darkness. Even those to fall asleep with a weapon in hand are ready to strike back at anything that might dare to attack. This is what they were now. And that was not the lost part of their society…
Tradition died in agony and everything attached to it was losing its centuries kept shine for one sad, shameful reason. No one had been smart enough to stop war machine of fish-like race from Plutark who bought half of a planets' government and land, fired all possible grudges between locals and then invaded Marsh in full force almost ten years ago.
- So much for an easy search quest, - Stoker grumbled walking through unusually quiet cave halls. According to perimeter guards no one left the base for the last two hours. That fact solely excluded the desert around the facility out of equation and added all emergency havens and corridors to the route. – Sod it!
He looked everywhere, every Gods forsaken places his niece tended to be. Always alive and operational command center, information division quarters or tech and bio laboratories general used to live in usual days had no sign of her. Even one-person penal-type room was inhabited by shadows only. Communicator lie dead on her end. And that was a bad sign in his experience.
Dread at the thought, but he missed his brother-in-law at times like these. Men could always find a way to compromise with each other right after bad blood run between them – shoot something, beat some faces, drink to death, play or joke through a conflict. But women… women had their special mind wrecking club when it came to inside clashes. One as charming as he was could play through with a female as well. But again, this one was a relative.
Stoker dreamed how in the past he would find previous war and political partner at his quarters after any big fuss. Beaming with energy, battle raged face on, new sneaky plan at hand. Some dual brainstorm to the idea and the players hit the road! As rush and daring 'twas – he loved things that way.
Carbine was a different sort of mouse tending to dwell the darkest holes nearby to burn away every sign of miscalculation in plan before coming out and breaking through the obstacle with a hit comparable to orbital bombardment. Both had national 'nothing hurt me until you prove otherwise' aptitude and a few more bothering feats. But pondering about that itself could not help the Coach in his voluntarily proclaimed mission so he kicked himself mentally from a sudden freeze and went further on.
Hour and a half got him rather creative in generating seek-and-find ideas but gave no results. Business tried to get him dead of boredom in few dozen yards from pleasure thing! Preposterous! "Did what I could! No more!" – Stocker inwardly snapped and immediately headed towards festivities and the merry crowd hum… Being a slave for more than a year he earned right for some sort of social therapy and not the one doctors made up for him.
As for the failed activity… well, one very strict gray mouse-babe said "There're at least two ways to trap and skin a rat". Figuratively speaking, of course. So he would bet on anything his niece will be at her office just after the sunrise. However that place was full of cameras and microphones thus lacked the intimacy he needed to perform at his best. And that would mean him having to be cornered at some point while having his share of holiday by a horde of very upset medics. But this type of sacrifice he was ready to make right now. Anything for not losing his precious time in vain anymore!
Fortunately or not van Rotten family son was blessed with a very strange type of luck. The one that granted him favors and insights just a few seconds after too late line was crossed. So on his way back to nice drinks, swooning nurses and cadet kids ready to hear his heroic veteran stories tan furred mouse stumbled into an abandoned section he passed by somehow and decided to give this last one a try.
Carbine hid at the place of dust and total information chaos. Normally archive sorting storehouse should have been empty. Instead it was overrun with racks full of countless papers, tapes, crystal info-nodes and discs dropped here and there on shelves or in crates as they were till the moment of sorting them out finally came. War on several frontlines made its way even to this place – tons of backup data, no people to keep new carriers in check, no time to bring in some law and structure, always something more important to do, than classifying intel already too old when it got here. The sore sight of the facility made a scientist in a man want to bring the army discipline back and kick some sacrificial rookie in here to fame such boring thing as order.
Second general in Cannonblade family was famous with distaste for chaos of any form and yet she was here.
Distressed beyond the edge, he would bet. But his careful try to mentally focus and read her met the block. He could try to break through it but that would give away the person who dared to do so and make his position worse. No possible girly head things were worth such a loss. For now all she knew was the scanning guy wasn't one of the psionics or below-zero-sods, probably soldier on his routine watch around the base. And the shield meant she's not able to feel the others clearly enough to attack according to her silenced inner third sense at the moment.
Stoker waited a bit and tried his best to come in unnoticed – no sound or psychic wave giving his presence away. His niece should be mad at him for several reasons and had a bad habit of shooting things dead when her mood was off or victim did something terrible against her own codex. No exceptions for friends, family and famous thief of her iron heart. Thanks to a quite clever Plutarkian move – everyone in Freedom Fighters movement was aware of letter fact. There were some acting laws and reality based facts protecting the crawling mouse, but he'd prefer not to trust to that cheesy shield against a laser in times of war. Considering his faults in all possible ways aged soldier wanted to be sure that girl didn't have any things she could turn into a weapon near her skillful hands right now, even started the whole thing unarmed. So he rightfully hoped for a long and partially explosive talk to solve one particular problem. Well, maybe two. Or three. Or more. And, if things go really positive, chat and laugh like a family. Life they both had usually left near to none time for friendly conversations they loved to share when she was a kid. Not tellin' how he missed those in enemy jail.
Mouse lady who seemed to wear only her casual uniform without protecting armor vest at this very moment sat legs crossed near the far side of the sole table facing the window and watching the night sky. Bright light of Irzass – the fastest marshian moon – moved through shutter stripes giving away the figure on the floor and played hypnotizing games at some glass things behind Carbines left elbow. Danger it is but not an immediate one.
- Aha! Here ya're! – male over-cheering voice made she-mouse shudder and look at her guest in a surprise. No hate or annoyance appeared on Carbine's face yet – just wonder. Maybe the darkness hid things. He would not guess until hearing something. On her neck an unknown small metallic trinket on chain caught the moon light but was lost in gray fur in seconds as she curled a bit turning defensive. Loving uncle saluted the lady with an empty spirit can. - Ya'd better be doing good, Shady. Your boys down there are worried you're not with them doing whatever young ones do these days to forget 'bout troubles... – Stoker came closer and used a short pause to lean on the desk edge and study the possible future battlefield. No sign of knife or blaster. Good. Steel army mug with some seemingly greenish liquid inside in her right hand. One empty bottle, one half-done and one untouched near the legs, all - without visible signs of any official labels. "Some folk-brew. Hoowee, nice timing, dear me!" General quietly paid him the same share of awareness as before. - So you are what, eh?.. Drinking?! Great Mother Marshie! – Stoker faked shock while friendly rattling as he did every day all fun and irony but staring at his opponent with covered uneasy interest. And this silent eye to eye duel made him wonder. Once a big happy family, what they all have turned into by now?
Frowning a bit she managed to give him the answer with a low and unwelcoming voice without bursting with curses right away. Promising start, considering… well, everything.
- Judging me? You broke the containment protocol again. One more show-off and bloody Round Table will happily replace your smug faced figure with some agreeable party starter. My influence doesn't go that far. That is why you'd better mind my words this time, Coach, - f ghost of her real self, lady sounded too tired to be angry as she turned from the man waving him to go away. No such acts of mercy were available today. Presented warrior had plans for her in his odd scheming. She could fire away anything she had for him – that would not make him leave.
This dialog was one of the reasons he ran from the med bay again. Of course, he hated four walls and needles, lying in bed through the day and more needles, everyone around walking on their toes as if he was a glassy fragile pup and oh-please no more needles, and so forth. But that was not a problem. Knowledge and worth vacuum were. With Gray Momma off to another base after the so-called trio incident – all medics turned to be deadly boring and serious about keeping him away from the heat of things that could turn his condition bad way adding the news to the list. Trapped away from life totally he felt suffocating and weak, useless pile of ancient bones and meat in white sterile coffin. He warned them. He ran once. No one got that right. Well, they tried to cage the wrong bird … Besides, one who was not healthy or able to stand and fight for his life would not make it through the runaway as long as he had a plan to save the day, yes?
Stoker cared 'bout the political consequences even less. Every Freedom Fighter officer from commanding center was raised from cadet to a soldier by him. They simply wouldn't dare. Of course, that fact didn't stop chosen assholes from forming a pact when they turned his own laws against him for bringing Carbine to Freedom Fighters side. That mistake moved him to the counselor position and made sure he knew who the jackals were so he occasionally paid them back flushing some minor dirty secrets on the streets. Being everyone's back up the old days finally payed up - the fuss was much more impressive than in case of retiring certain legendary commander. They now have a precise understanding of what will happen, if they try that trick again.
- Noted. As for the drinks… Hey, I'm your uncle, ex-superior and so-called father of the FF-movement, kinda responsible for that sorta stuff, - some brow wiggling and Stoker sat as near her as possible, looked over one pretty much feminine shoulder, targeted the booze with his wanting eyes and whispered conspiratorially right into her twitching ear. - Mind sharing that pretty grassy thing of youse? Have to remind ya if ya don't – y'have a serious problem.
- With your chaotic activities being the reason? – general pondered combing her long hair with fingers and plucking most of the black mass to the side to create a very strange shield between them. After that she made a good swig from the mug and breathed out. - Sure. Why not?
- I'm able to detect sarcasm when I hear one, y'know, - no real impact from the girl – physical or verbal -made old intriguant forget about most of his own worries and itchy to do something really stupid to get her out of that state. Butting his niece off her place and watching around as she shied away with a sigh seemed like a good method. - Move, babe. Give mah some space under this cozy general table and show some happiness at my well organized come back already, - new position let him see something that didn't catch his sight earlier – a strange bunch of things including those not found while first observation. So familiar and funny, such a nice instrument to push the red button. - A sleeping bag, reports, alcohol and first aid kit?! You… naahgain or y'serious?! Hah! Last time you did something that obviously childish was when I gave you dress instead of blaster on your tenth birthday!
- Don't push it. I'm pissed off and you know that precisely, - her glare pinned him down to the place he was sitting. The voice was cold and commanding. Almost. These moments seasoned veteran regretted not being the one with enhanced empathic abilities but was glad to be at least fifteen years older and more experienced than most of his surroundings not to be scared. However, the sound coming through her gritted teeth was unpleasant enough for someone like him to lose the mood for jokes instantly. – You came with a purpose. Don't deny it. You always do. Drink, spit it out already and… leave me be. For the official record, you didn't leave the line, pure MIA. No come back – no welcome. No backside effects, - now that remark was unexpected. Stocker shut up for few seconds before speaking further on. "Afraid of Inner security? Here? They didn't leave the army ranks, as far as I… Ah, yes. Knew. One more fact to clarify later."
- Bang and ouch but always business. Did I say I love that in you? – he actually wondered now how much did he skipped being out of the information field but decided to follow the advice and grabbed the halved bottle. Feeling for the last remnant of his family fought a battle against his passion to solving matters fast and fun. But hurt women adored talking even if they denied the fact and rarely had matching sense of humor. Situation demanded some more ritual dancing around. – Concrete wall away from world type of a mood, ye? What are we drinkin'?
- Poison, if you ask the doctors. Good one though. Try it and guess in the name of science.
- Cheers… - that sounded like a start of a normal chat. The green spirit was sweet and fresh at the same time and burned through the throat like lava from the heart of Vaersheh, the Greatest Fire Mountain. Someone started cherishing real things while uncle wasn't looking. And that someone planned to drink dead this night. - Ow, nice one. Thenass root and mehojan seeds? – he asked sheepishly after coughing a bit, still feeling the burning trail inside.
- With leyar peel it seems. Natural. Handmade. Yummy. Luv the stuff, - she suddenly gave him a smile. Weak and short but decent one. - So?
Here it goes. Jump into inevitable. He had an addictive love-hate relation to that feeling.
- I know, you despise people stating the obvious, but… none of this downward mood would have happened if y'just listened to Throttle, - Stocker shoot from afar watching his nieces' reaction.
- Why of course! Such a rare and bright idea! - her shoulders fell down as she rolled eyes in disappointment and objection. Her tail moved in a nervous wave and claws of right hand hit the floor with strange staccato sound. – Catch up to the honest word of a more than two years dead man. Against a pack of evidence and a dozen of uncovered traitor cases between our ranks and the armies'. And I'm not mentioning one particular clone problem. Proved one and pinned to the same trio, - old mouse had to admit girl had a point at that, whatever she was talking about. Suddenly he knew who's going to dig up these archives for him in the next three days. Routine work, but he had to find out without anyone else noticing. No way to giving in his point yet though.
- Life is life. Coincidences happen. Sometimes you just jump and trust, - he did understand he was kind of waving with his non-caring bastard mask before her, like a fresh meat before old and beaten kniverfang.
- You mean like you trusted me the information about him and the guys being alive in the first place? Or maybe - that clever saving jump away from explaining yourself right into cozy Plutarkian labor camp? Hypocritical bastard you are sometimes! – good old sarcasm with a provoking statement at the end. Been there, done that… What was more important Carbines' voice finally sounded even but a bit hurt. "Come on. Get and fire it out. I need you back as you were," – her opponent wished and was suddenly bugged with some sort of migraine just because she mentioned the hated place.
- Ah! But Plutarkian labor camp was 'A' coincidence. And not a pleasant one mind you! – the Coach let himself a creepy laugh, ended the green liquid with a swig and moved his can for a new portion. They've talked through this fuck-up of his when some saving party brought him to the base. He'll have his share of night horrors later. And anyone expecting him or her crying rivers over the fact should really wait for some second universe creation. - Some more spirit uprising poison for beloved uncle? Thanks. 'Not tellin' thing - that's a different matter, I assure you. Had a major reason. Rely on your family shot, honey? – magic wink made youngest Cannonblade drop a smile over the grudge again. Sweet.
- Pff… - grumpy lady jokingly punched away his can with a hit of a mug after filling both and stretched her legs. - Hope tis not that prehistoric rumor about me bein' the all sold and evil army spy. I'm getting tired of it, - she mumbled casually before taking another sip.
- Nope, - he echoed leaning on the table side with his back and scratched his shoulder. That felt good. - Even more dull, than that. Just wasn't sure myself near not believin'. Don't haveta tell ya how bad unchecked hopes are for decision making process and folk's morale. Now I can guess that fellas got the transmitter totally wiped to dust and the beacon near to a technical death condition. When they'll bother to send first report I'll have my proof. Yeah, we had some readings then. But those readings were odd with accuracy near zero, - sharing the information he kept away for a long time suddenly made him feel better further on. Or was it the family reunion thing? Or the alcohol?
- I dug the archives of the big-ear and peep-all-dirt-up work groups. Your field pros had the news, - she dropped running her fingers through her hair absentmindedly and then pointing somewhere up probably meaning the table contents or the information center located one level above.
- As mad as other news from that blue planet! Cannibal albino tomatoes from Mars bein' my personal favorite. Reminded me of Punk, heh… - for a few seconds he felt very sad not seeing his ex-students alive and kicking threesome for a short time they were back home. Experience and aging came with sentimentality. He felt worried and a bit guilty for what he made them do. But the war made it probably impossible to meet them before they were called off from the current mission. And for now that was a matter to be solved not by him, unfortunately.
- City around the crushing site. Mysterious vigilante trio. No sign of reconnaissance. Bikes. Everything neatly fitting to the concept you told me… Coincidence? – Carbine was looking at him intensively as if in a try to help solve the case, figure out something that he missed. That was humiliating in a way. Will they ever stop checking upon the legend just because he was getting old? Stoker was careful with the data at the time.
- Oh, please! – mouse-man resented. - Wipe the knowledge of the trio being them out of your mind and look at the situation from my angle! Always near ruins, suspicious dig sites, shot orphanages… Those might've been proofs of a certain theory. The reason I sent them there in the first place. And if you think me bein' paranoid - try listening to Detroit recordings after the crash. News are same, but no my people there back then and no 'probably a Plutarkian trap' readings online, - all of a sudden he found what was bugging him one moment earlier. Coach pointed his black clawed finger at his nieces' nose serious as Mehraz the Judge himself just without lightning and earthquake special effects. - And these are my fighters we are talking about. I wanted them alive, needed them alive. Simple care aside I hate being blind as hard as you do. Especially when the situation seems ready to bite me in the arse.
- Okay. Let's pretend I'm convinced. For now… - she-mouse let an irony change through her right brow position. And then came the bomb. – That doesn't explain strange second line of defense. Or does it? The intel from stink fish patrol important enough to have a patrol? Uh, nothin' serious, general. Beat it, – Stoker found himself studying Irzass' light beams making their way through the air and dust of the base now. He just could not make himself look into her eyes. No as a soldier he didn't feel guilty. There was a reason behind his every move on the fields. And no one would make him think using a good guy for honorable thing and a small cover up for his own ass was a bad idea. But dirty trick was a dirty trick no matter how brilliant the reasoning was. - You made my friend lie to me and work against me behind my back in order to keep things your way. Used his loyalty to the cause and family matter! You're…–Yes he did just that, but… Terrible thought began building itself in his mind and he palmed acting generals' speech off immediately. Silence seemed buzzling with her anger after that.
- Erm… You mean Ansel didn't tell you until you had him pinned to the wall… –her eyes were full of suspicion when Stoker pulled his hand away.
- …right after they left. Rimfire found out about some war assets gone and trespassed over a bunch of strange shipments being made between storehouses and one specific high rank officer trying – clumsy as he is with this – to hide the fact messing around the files in the system, - Carbine quietly finished the line seeming to understand what was going on. – Luckily the boy had a street-smart coming. He brought it on right to me. Not through the chain of commands.
- Bones and ash! I-I know how that looks like, - tan-furred leader said worryingly under her unforgiving glare. He knew van Kirshig was a righteous type, but not to the point not having help in the field one didn't understand. And why? In order to save some unknown riff-raff from tiny pile of shame? Freedom Fighters never had problems with hot heads ready to break some rules! Well, no move up the ranks for the kid. Serves him right for spoiling up a good plan and messing things up with shit this way.
- Like an intentional keeping me away from information needed to make adequate decisions! Makes one think why she's there where she's not needed at all. Though at the time she was assured the opposite thing, - lady-mouse stamped mechanically cooling away all friendly atmosphere they built to this point. And this time she hit the sensitive spot – his reason and sanity.
- Being whiny are we?! Stop that right now, babe, be reasonable! I know what that move cost you. And quit blaming me for your guy's stupidity, - he snapped. Patience wasn't Stokers' strong side after all. Away with the tales he was a living man of blood and nerve. And being a typical stand-alone hard ass by nature tried to team up the board as hard as he could. Some of nieces' senses seemed to come back at that remark. - At first – yes, I tried to hide things from you – and – the commanding center guys until I was sure. Earth data plus any intel fake or not - that can never be checked up to hundred percent – and any righteous knight in shining armor would behead my best men and do a major favor to Plutark. Why am I even telling you this? Shit show almost happened. And t'was what I tried to avoid, believe me, - she took a sip from a mug while watching him and listening to his explanation and mused the facts for a while. - But. In case of my – so rare but still – mistake I gave the order to your man. To the bone your man. Careful one. Above that I gave him some hints, something to think about… I bet he'll listen and won't follow. Honestly! – lie of course, but he was saving a family and high rank FF-officer trust. Who would blame him?
- He's too straight in matters of trust, law and war. Always was. You should have known that! You're better with others than I, – woman finally reasoned as if she tried to reach some kind of consensus with herself. Backside of overprotectiveness - it always bites back. – Blast it! Why are all of us such… people at the times? - she massaged the point between her brows with a finger. Trusty little girl. It was almost too easy. – And this plan! 'twas too complicate to work. Why complicate things at all? You could have told me. I'd yell. I'd shut up… eventually. I'd had time for maneuver and no reasons for paranoia. And that is just one surprise on the broad minefield, - hard sign told him how tired and insure his niece was better than words could. That alone silenced his inner self approving gloat session. And then came the flow he anticipated. Luckily it was significantly better controlled this time. - You ran not telling where and why, all leads cut, then you got caught and was gone off the picture. That changed everything like 'a lot'. I'll skip the details – they are around us – tons of broken plans and deals, changed tactics and few good men lost their lives. And reporting to the CC. So much reporting… just in order to stay where I am and do what I do, because of who I used to be years ago, - so it was anti-army propaganda that fired generals back with bad timing, not only his wild shenanigans. "Which prick found the moment attractive, I wonder," - Stoker pondered about the reasons to whack some heads so blinded with freedom and power not to see the war going on under their noses. - Why by the blood of Marshiar you had to leave the way you did?
He'd personally prefer straight hit to the face, than this lost-in-questions looks of her. Cause this one thing he was not ready to talk over yet. The idea was formed and slowly brought into life on step-by-step sequence, but vital parts were still left to be found… So Coach did his best to avoid talking around something he wasn't sure to bet his life on yet. With the whole planet future at stake he had no right for mistakes anymore.
- I really had to, - he tried his best not to be too evasive at the moment and lead the conversation away from a slippery subject. - That's why I… ah… kinda hoped y'll listen and won't look into it until he... ah… found a reason to disobey, – fortunately the girl turned to be so angry at the clumsy try that she'd done all the job for him.
- Not checkin' upon info that might affect all the battle plans and - maybe - the war because my never revealing the whole truth uncle told me so? Yeah! That's just totally me, - frowning and hurt Carbine could not possibly see herself right now. But the resemblance with her father at his thirty being accused of using trivial strategy was so strong it made Stoker chuckle.
- Forgot how Cannonblade you are… - for a few seconds there was a dead silence. Round eyes fill of disbelief. Mouth open at first sounds coming. Disarmed and speechless. Her inherited inability to read and take compliments was cute and really hard not to laugh at.
- Ah, yes! Thanks for reminding, – she blushed when finally found the thought along with her ability to speak. But casual tone general used made her opponent shudder when put together with the text told and the subtext found by the one with the knowledge. Namely, him. - No info about what happened between you three while I was two months out at the hospital after that dreadful "small victory" disaster… Why you and your men left the army? Why Throttle and the guys left the army? Why father let you all get away with that? All I have apart from my own crazy theories and official stories is someone heard someone else talking to some person who heard over some rumor…
- Kid's silent too? – Stoker came from his stasis and felt oddly and disgustingly sober. And he counted on Rookie sending her a message thousand pages long through that nice net of theirs just after the split-up happened. His fighters kept on surprising him. So the great Coach missed and hit the wall he rallied the other guy smash himself at few years ago. "Nice one set-up, Throttle". - That's their secret, it seems, - this little feint could not work even if it was destined to.
- I'm talking to you about you at the moment, - she stated, moved closer and . Nose to nose. Eye to eye. - Answering questions. Closing old ends. No squirming. The One Night Law Demand.
- Not a question. Not an end for sure, - he parried without a blink. Not comfortable near fair unfair women? Not this guy. Not in this life. Not at this galaxy. And yes, he knew she hated his little game of making her getting the information out of him instead of just giving it in. But for the moment Coach had a thin morale advantage so to speak. MAF or FF - no one raises hands at ex-prisoners of war. Not three days out of labor camp and having a news of an old friend being shot by the bunch of followers that friend trusted for several years.
- Gods, just tell me already! – she blasted in his face dramatically and moved away with loud sound of slapping palm to her face. At the age of five this would end up him jumping around with "iwiniwiniwinIWIN!" echoing in the ears of all mice in ten kilometer radius. Sadly he had a reputation now and had to think something diplomatic over. Old vow demanded dodge this one as well.
- You're too sober for that sort of story, - soldier jokingly stated but shut up cutting at her desperate look pierced to the last unopened bottle. He only managed to whisper fiercely – You are not going to… - as the time suddenly started playing strange games with all involved in the process. Man hardly managed to put the can away. – No! Wait! Neeza! - he yelped short version of her real name with a long forgotten younger and ringing voice stretching his arms instinctively as his miniature niece darted towards her goal across his legs. Somehow he was able to entangle one of her legs with his tail. The thing was pure metal, so other variants of its use in terms of incapacitation were a no-go. - Gyah! – Stoker squeaked when her deliberately small but iron clad body was reminded that besides the obvious obstacle –yes-yes - gravity was still there and working - and pressed him to the floor. Sensitive ears and certain movements told the guy - Carbine caught the item and tried to open it. - Give the bottle to me! – he ordered with a warning tone trying to catch and get the liquor away from her grasp. Her tail grips and careful whips made that process difficult. - You can't drink it like that, still young in comparison lady. Family elder van Rotten forbids you! – with that said he pinned all five nails of a left hand to the unprotected side of a certain female body. Everyone has a weakness they say, and he happened to know one of hers since her childhood.
She-mouse suddenly became aware of the enemy presence near her vulnerable territories and had to forfeit storming the cork in order to protect herself from a terrifying tickle strike. Too late.
- Hey! – the devious fingers already moved. And a lady squirmed and burst with unnatural laughing unable to stop herself. - Aha-ha!.. Unf-aha-ha-fair! Hey! – aged veteran he was and he didn't miss the opportunity to take over the bottle, when it was delivered literally two centimeters to his face. Thank Gods for keeping the eyes and teeth safe! - Give it back. Aha-ha-eek! Stop tickling me! – she tried to fight back, but he was older, his arms were longer and he had a breakable thing in possession that given the lost cause would make all the fight pointless. So the one woman opposition ended up on the floor and stated. - That's a present from a friend dear to me. – for that the lady was granted final careful finger shot to the point behind the ear and a squeeze of the ear end. - Aha-ha-ouch! It's mine! Keep your skeletons and give back the booze already, you old pervert! – Carbine demanded as she was able to breathe and sit straight again and Stoker had to comply for the gentleman he always was in the deepest part of his dark soul.
- I'm in shock, general. You've just traded important political info for alcohol! – tan-furred mouse was amused for a different reason. There was a chance that his niece tried to fix the trust bridge too in her own way by mending one thing and crashing the other. How in a name of all ancestors he managed not to see that?! Was he too concerned with flipping floor away from her feet? Old habits die hard!
- I wanted to prove a point. That I did. As mysterious as it is, past is dead. If you'll ever be ready to tell me your part of a certain creepy story – I'm all ears, - quite distracted from him now she looked for her mug and the other bottle with remains of green liquor. Ah yes. They were drinking. At least both made occasional efforts to do so. - And I haven't tried all the ways to that pack of dirty secrets yet. Might not even need you in the end, - Carbine saluted her uncle with both safe and sound search trophies with a full hearted smile of a winner upon her face. Stoker did his best to trust it. Because after pinning the facts together he suddenly had a feeling someone might just slightly be pretending there was a plan while there was none. "If the guess is right, nice dodge. My school", - the Teach thought and felt a bit proud.
- Another shock. Shots for blind faith? – can and mug met again. The swig, the light, the place, the company and sudden peaceful moment made van Rotted filled with love to the whole world. T'was quite a time it happened last. He lived most of his days in comfortable deep attraction to big abstract things such as freedom. It was safe and let him see things in perspective. As for the people… well, he could be everything they expected when he wasn't involved with them too much. But no one is immune to a sudden change of heart. - Pause from words juggling. Tell me you wanted me back, hon. Come on! Be a sweetheart, - old timer said and stirred his long fingers at his niece.
- Ok! I did, - lady declared obviously horrified at the perspective and despising the threat. Still there was something in the voice that proved her telling the truth. - Wait a sec! What do you mean by 'another shock'? Did you try to tell me you thought I'm as control freaky as pa used to be? – man gritted his teeth and closed his eyes trying not to swear loudly, all mood flushed away in a second by the pain of loss. This miss was a dead shot. It took some effort to remind himself it was she who lost her father and some time to calm down before he could speak.
- No you're not, - even softly grumbled that sounded rude. And he couldn't change it for now. Bastard that crept his sister away from the family, sworn and damned friend, symbol of a certain era - her father was a lot of things for him and the people she could not possibly ever be. Carbine was a different person obviously. They both knew that. But sometimes he and a bunch of other mice secretly wished she wasn't just that. For the sake of good old days when they were young and the planet they loved so much was alive… Silently Stoker emptied the can again. Not even looking at the opponent he knew she felt terribly guilty. The girl let this emotion slip away through her inner shield. Most of the mice had their normal empathic link working on a daily basis to read such things. He happened to be one of them. - Wouldn't want myself wake up from coma in a world you had to. And if I did I'd try to dig up some answers too, - he glared hard on her and met understanding. Hard sign left him empty and lifeless. Who was that guy that hoped leaving this room without any harm done to his odious persona?
- Thanks for that at least, - Carbine said with a crispy voice all tamed and quiet as she poured some more green for them both. One last bottle left to kill. Reality was telling him the spirits would end far from them being even a bit drunk. - Here you go. Maybe for Harsh?
- Ye. Sleep well, all observant ol' bugger, - something burned the eyelids from within so he preferred to face the window and send his half-speech half-prayer there – to the moons and stars. The eyes were dry, but the heart was bleeding. Kicking ass company that made it through thirty to fifty years of his life was cut to him and two van Osse sisters being well and alive. Others dead, MIA or kissing the government's ass. He didn't know which was worse.
- Let you meet mom somewhere there behind the final door. The way she was b… before that RBA85-D89.04 virus and the very end, - she-mouse whispered.
- And tell Carineh her crazy little brother is sorry he came too late with the cure, - Stoker felt almost physically that he was drifting away into a guilt decades old, to the days he paid a dreadful price for nothing… Searing flames, he said it aloud first time through all these years. At her grave he didn't dare to.
Sob at the edge of hearing ability thrusted him back to real world to take look at the general. She was wiping the tears off her face, but they didn't seem to stop afterwards.
- Hey… - he embraced her waist with his metallic tail and tenderly moved the lady closer under his protecting arm. Carbine laid her head upon his shoulder still battling with herself and water running from her eyes.
- War is a bitch. I know… But ya right, Stoke. I failed them, betrayed them in a way. All'o them. Throttle especially, - no matter what soldiers said – no officer was made of steel and most of them had conscience and honor. Which created a lot of hurt with questionable decisions, especially – the ones time proved to be wrong. The very reason he was avoiding hard path of a paragon this petite grey mouse tried to be. Men who succeeded in seizing end of that road he could count by the fingers of one hand. All dead now except the most hated one.
Elder van Rotten patted his niece's back and tried some reasoning. "No pity or indulgence, - he warned himself, - "those would detonate the girl".
- That's not what I said, babe. You've fucked up. Everyone does that once in a while. Result is always unpleasant.
- The consequences… - man didn't let her finish and shushed harshly as if they were a cadet and her coach again. Maybe Cannonblade daughter caught that note from his emotions, but he suddenly felt her tension fade away.
- Higher you are - bigger the stakes, - Stoker said firmly. She knew that. But repeating some old truths wouldn't hurt anyone. - You've changed things. Kinda rough and hard. Set yourself up in a few ways actually. But people see that and understand. Well, most o'them. Those with the brain thing 'tween the ears and antennas… And yeah, me holding the info back didn't help much, I guess, - this revelation brought some weak smile back to her sad features.
- Should I take it as a "Sorry"? – Carbine looked up at him arching a brow ironically, which made it so easy and naturally to say the truth.
- I don't mind. Doesn't mean I promise anything, yeah? –comment like this one was probably the worst thing to say in current situation. But he just could not stop it. And the self-content grin too.
- You. Are. Impossible! - she chided him with a laugh, hugged her uncle and kissed his furry cheek. Now the veteran finally felt back home and was blushing like some virgin on a first date utterly and shamelessly happy. An elder man had to stop it before full heartedly confessing something he really should not and also admit – hard tomes did make him cherish small things full heartedly.
- Gah, enough of me! Too shy for that nonsense. Sudden change of subject! – van Rotten veteran cleared his niece away from his personal space, both hands on her shoulders. Once again he pierced her with a serious stare. Her father death did left him with certain obligations to fulfill. Not much experience there, but he wanted to try at least. - May I ask you one personal thing that I didn't get out of your report?
- Go on, - worried and cautious she-mouse seemed ready to cooperate but clearly didn't know what to expect. People rarely wanted anything personal from her with all cold hearted bitch reputation and army things witching around.
- How did you come up with the idea to get Throttle to talk in the prison one on one considering all distrust in the air and his abilities? Could have talked to Punk or Modo. Not as half as dangerous. Same result at stake. I'm not implying on anything. Just don't understand, – general was lost in thought for a few moments.
- Don't know. For some reason I didn't even think of that possibility. Why? – The answer was worth of some typical sand raider that blunt and predictable it was. This made him speak before thinking.
- I suppose either you trusted him much more than you're kicking yourself for or… - Coach felt like he needed a blaster to burn his brains away for even suggesting Rookie being capable of ripping mind of a mouse to make one think the way chief needed. Thou 'twas one of Stoker's greatest fears, it sounded like heresy when brought to light. Carbine looked at him in total disbelief and horror. And he thought he came up with that prejudice after he started teaching the boy?! - Crap! Forget what I said. Right now. That's an order! Drink!
- Yeah… Might have been my strictly linear army thinking! Or losing head because of hormones gone crazy… You know us, babes. Few months are enough to turn a decent woman into a sheets torch. And I am worse! - literally tearing the bottle open to add some poison they needed to drown in and fast she thrown in few versions that would actually work for CC as promising ones. - Shots for trust and occasional stupidity! – she proclaimed and they drank.
- Agreed, heh, - her uncle giggled as they drank twice.
- Damn you! – she hissed and both of them laughed nervously sharing a funny feeling of crime association in the process.
- Me and my big mouth, - he chuckled, wiped a happy tear away and tried to look very serious to collect himself a bit. He came here for a reason after all. – Damn but still useful one. I've got one more crazy plan to make some real difference in our favor. Complicated one with a lot of 'ifs' attached. Y'know, my special in all possible ways plan.
- I have a feeling I've heard that before, - Carbine said cautiously.
- And that one worked out. Mostly… This time you'll hate it from the first line. Wanna give it a try?
She agreed of course. War never really left a lot of place for maneuver – either you do everything you can to survive and end it or you die.
General also had a list of her own inside that tiny head of hers. One that started with filling in most of her advisors' information gaps.
So they finished with the plan, talked few hours more and a bit more. Until the last green spirit left the bottle, the base awoke from sleep and the day star crawled up the sky in all of its grace and mercilessness.
I need a beta. I'm holding up for a beta 'til the end of the night… ;)
And do not worry. I'going to Earth and focus on trio and Charlene in next chapter.