Prologue: And Yet to Come
It was cold.
Was this what it was like in deep space? Only the coldness was coming from within. Here in the army base the temperature was comfortable, not as hot as the raging desert outside in the day, not as cold as it was at night.
If only they could see me now, General Carbine managed to think bitterly. The conversation she had finished with Throttle not moments ago replayed itself over and over in her mind, mocking her, burning itself into her soul. You would have lost him anyway, she said reproachfully to herself. It didn't make it any easier.
They'd been apart for so long, and there were so many beautiful girls down there, on Earth. On her last visit she'd seen how well Throttle and the human wrench jockey Charley got on. Her feelings for him had not wavered, she missed him more and more the longer he stayed away. Maybe his feelings for her had died, she had no way of knowing. Not now. But maybe it was better this way. He would find out, and he would turn from her. This way at least, maybe the pain would come in manageable amounts.
Why did she feel like abandoning all ration and reason and ending the pain? She had never felt like this before. It wasn't like Throttle was her first serious relationship or anything like that. She wasn't some giggly little schoolgirl, she had seen heartache and pain and breakup, probably a fair bit more than most. Her inherently strong nature and seemingly harsh personality saw to it that the tough macho mice she invariably ended up with found some excuse to leave her for a more compliant model. It had never occurred to her to become a more compliant model. One of the many things her parents had taught her was to always stay true to herself regardless of what happened around her. It was what she had always done.
Throttle had been a first. The first one to not be afraid of her personality, the first one to love her for what she was, not because she tried (or didn't try) to reflect some mystic ideal that seemed to dwell in every male's mind. The first to take her as she was. The first to understand completely her duty to the armed forces and the liberation of Mars from the clutches of the stinkfish. He had always been there for her, even through the gnarly times when anyone sensible would have left her in search of some soft little girl that would always be home waiting. He'd even understood when she had at first been jealous of Charley, and admitted to her that he was worried that she'd leave him for someone else, he'd been gone so long. Men seemed to think they had this god-given right to get it on with anyone they pleased but were all outraged when women did the same. Throttle was one in a million.
She missed him so much.
She hadn't heard the door open. The door should not have opened anyway. Carbine straightened and turned from the console at the same time.
A scream of surprise was cued at this point.
Carbine did gasp, but given the choice she opted for grabbing her always handy blaster as opposed to the rather pointless scream. Nobody ever heard screams anyway. Quite predictably, the blaster was knocked out of her hands. It skittered and bounced across the stone floor, too far away to be helpful. Too far away to bother attempting to reach. She stepped to the side, guiding the blow that was meant for her down onto the console. Twirling gracefully as any ballerina, she landed a brilliant spinning kick into her assailant's back.
The console sparked at the impact. She was going to have to get the techs to look at it later. She sprinted across the room towards the fallen blaster.
A weight surpassing hers smacked into her back. Propelled forwards faster than her legs could carry her, Carbine fell forward. Stars flashed behind her eyes as the wind was forcefully knocked from her lungs by the sharp contact with the concrete ground. She lashed with her tail, hoping to at least surprise her assailant enough to roll up. She felt a hand on her neck, not the expected deathgrip of a stranglehold, but a soft, gentle caress.
A bitter, icy chill swept through her body. She could not contain the sharp cry of pain that escaped her before her body went limp.
*******
Shit, shit, shit, the rhythm of Scabbard's sprinting boots seemed to echo his thoughts as he pounded down the corridor. How the fuck did they get in here I hope I'm not too late. He sharply rounded the corner. "General Carbine!" The door to her quarters was closed. That was normal, Carbine was a very private person. Although she had been a lot more depressed and withdrawn since the...incident.
He skidded abruptly to a halt, glancing at the door. "Carbine, it's Scabbard!" he yelled. She would be able to hear him through the door. Theoretically. No response. He banged on the door. The lights on it were saying it was unlocked. Gritting his teeth, risking the general's wrath, he hit the button to open the door. It slid soundlessly open with no trouble whatsoever.
The communications console was smoking and sparking quite pathetically in one corner. Carbine's standard issue blaster was lying quite uselessly by itself in one corner. "No..." Scabbard rushed into the room, bending over Carbine's comatose form. Her body was cold and clammy, her skin deathly pale under her fur. Her pulse and breathing were only barely discernible. On the line of her slender neck and shoulder, a thin line of fur had fallen out, revealing an electric blue welt. "Shit!" Scabbard growled through clenched teeth. He scooped her up easily and fled the room, screaming "MEDIC!" as he raced towards the infirmary.