Chapter 2
After riding out of mouse territory, Saber spent some time weaving random patterns across the dusty terrain in the desert beyond. He rode circles around a small lake, dipped in and out of a deep, boulder-filled valley, then wasted a few minutes exploring the confusing pathways between a group of dunes. There were a good deal of plants, trees, and vegetation surrounding populated areas, but the farther out into empty, unclaimed territory you went, the more barren things became.
Saber continued his weaving around as he headed into one of the most desolate places on the planet, where the ground was hard and infertile and signs of life were scarce. It was a habit drilled into underdwellers from childhood: you never followed a straight line no matter where you were heading. Erratic movements made it almost impossible for others to figure out where you had come from or where you were going. Even though their existence was well known these days and they were on fairly good terms with mice, the fact that their underground city was kept a carefully guarded secret hadn't changed.
After jumping a ravine, Saber cut a few more random circles before hitting a button on the control panel set in his bike's dashboard. A light blinked as a signal was sent out, and a few short seconds later he got a response back on the control screen. A brief, casual message that read welcome back.
Picking up speed a little, he steered into a narrow incline formed naturally in the rust-colored ground, heading downward for several feet until it stopped at a seemingly solid rock wall. Saber kept on going at the same pace, until his front wheel was about a foot from the rock. With little noise aside from a crackling sound, invisible seams inside the wall between the rocks and pebbles in the soil split apart swiftly, opening a space wide enough for him to pass easily through before the rock wall closed just as swiftly behind him. For an instant he was plunged in darkness, but the next instant the long, narrow passage he was in lit up brightly, illuminated by crystal-shaped motion-triggered lights embedded in the walls.
At the end of the tunnel Saber paused outside the first inner door, a reinforced entrance sealed with multiple electronic locks that glowed white, bright enough to see by even when the motion sensors weren't triggered. He waited patiently while the bored-looking guard stationed today pressed a visor-shaped scanner over his eyes just long enough for it to register an affirmative ping. With a yawn, the guard punched in the elaborate key-code that unlocked the door before going back to the adult magazine he'd been reading. The young rat-cross waved cordially before revving the engine and speeding toward his home city of Neothera.
Over the last twenty years or so, only a tiny handful of non-rats had set foot down here, and those select few respected their need for secrecy and refused to utter a word about what they saw. Naturally, this led those who lived topside to spread wild rumors and ideas about exactly what the underdweller rat city was like. Some believed that the amount of resources they had and the overall scope of their city was deliberately exaggerated in order to scare off potential attackers. Others said they actually undersold what they had and their city had to be a huge, self-contained world fully capable of sustaining itself. It was the latter story that was closer to the truth.
Back in the beginning, the resources they brought down from the surface with them wouldn't have been nearly enough for them to survive on for this long, so over the years scout teams had sneaked topside and salvaged supplies and technology - everything from broken parts abandoned by mice and sand raiders to machinery and equipment foolishly left unattended by Plutarkians.
It had taken a lot of time and a lot more effort, but now, there wasn't a thing they lacked. They had underground factories that supplied their small populace with everything from books to weapons, an extensive collection of greenhouses and gardens cultivated in soil enhanced with special minerals and loaded with plants nurtured with artificial sunlight, and of course there was the sprawling city itself. It was built inside massive caverns miles under the surface of Mars and connected by a winding series of cave-like corridors, the streets lit by lamps and fixtures on buildings, and like the outer corridors, there were light crystals set in the walls and ceiling, casting a warm glow that also radiated heat, simulating the look and feel of the sun.
Each section of Neothera housed factories, schools, businesses, and homes, all built from reinforced metal and alloy. They deliberately kept the population and facilities as even as possible in each section as well as kept a balance in weaknesses and strengths. As a result, in the unlikely event they were invaded by outsiders, there wasn't an area that offered a clearer or easier target over the others.
Intruders would find no such thing as an easy target down here. Everyone was armed and trained for combat, because right from the start there was fear that if those who could fight were seriously injured or killed, those who couldn't fight would be left helpless. The logical solution was to make sure everyone could fight, even if it was just a little. So even if they were physically weak, at the very least a rat knew how to aim and shoot.
Things had been peaceful on Mars for almost two decades now, but that didn't mean underdwellers had grown relaxed. They stayed aware - especially the older ones - that threats could arise without warning. And while they had stayed comfortably neutral and mouse territory remained at peace, there was still the occasional skirmish between certain factions of surface rats and sand raiders.
Even if that wasn't the case, Saber knew that everyone down here would keep living the same way they always had. Their secretive way of life was ingrained in them all.
After cruising down a long, twisting tunnel that inclined heavily before leveling out again, Saber paused to get scanned at the second door before emerging in the section of city he had lived in his whole life. Like all the other sections, it was housed in a hollowed out chamber in the ground, the rock walls and ceiling reinforced and lined with beams to keep it sturdy. The ground was kept even and smooth, paved in some areas and left as loose dirt in others. There were parks and other recreational areas, clusters of businesses and shops, the school he had only recently graduated from, and rows of homes. The buildings themselves were rather dull; all of them were either square or rectangle-shaped, and everything was colored in shades of brown, gray, and silver.
The city itself had little color aside from the gardens, but the inside of each building had as much variety as the ones who lived in them. Saber navigated through the paved streets before pulling up outside a small, square building colored a dull silver. There was nothing special about the place, nothing that made it stand out from the equally boring homes around it. Nothing that hinted two badasses lived here.
After hitting a button on the dashboard that opened the adjoining garage, Saber parked his bike inside, closed the overhead door, then swiped his personal key card through the reader by the front door and went inside. "I'm home," he called as he nudged off his boots and left them neatly on the nearby shoe rack.
No one answered, which didn't surprise him. Both of his parents were particularly active members of the community, so it was typical for them to disappear for hours or sometimes even days, taking weapons inventory, confirming that each of the tunnels leading into their city were secure, or dropping in on a few guards to make sure they were performing their duties properly. When he was younger and the two of them knew they would be busy for a while - or they just wanted some time alone together - they would either bring him to mouse territory or send for someone to come pick him up. As soon as he became old enough to mount his first bike, Saber started heading up there on his own.
He liked Neothera well enough, and he felt as comfortable underground as he did on the surface, but there was no denying that something about hanging around mice made him feel more at home than he did anywhere else. It wasn't because of how they treated him, which was about the same way he was treated down here. Everyone was aware that he was a halfbreed, but some would forget, or barely notice, while others were leery of him on account of old, painful memories. It wasn't really the locale, either. It was the ones who welcomed him every time he showed his face: Vector and Joy and their family, all their other friends. And especially the ones his parents used to leave him with all the time.
He couldn't really say he had friends or anyone he was all that close to down here aside from his parents. Which made the idea of moving to the surface and rooming with Vector all the more appealing.
Thinking about it made him remember his best friend's nutty request. After grabbing a drink from the kitchen, he went back out to the garage and leaned against a storage cabinet. Wherever his dad was, he had gone on foot, leaving his most prized possession behind. Saber absently sipped his drink as he gazed across the room at its monstrousness. This, he thought, was going to take some serious planning.
Hours after he and Tam went to bed that night, Throttle lay awake staring up at the shadow-bathed ceiling. Beside him, his mate slept curled up on her side, her head just close enough to his shoulder for her rhythmic breath to ruffle his fur. As she was getting ready for bed earlier, her mood had been subdued, with a tremor of excited nerves somewhere deep inside. She was feeling all those normal feelings, was asking herself all those normal questions someone who just found out they were going to be a parent asked. That tremor of excitement had faded once she fell asleep, and now all he could sense was a faint hint of calm. Of peace. Some nights he would sense spikes of fear or pain, and he would quickly nudge her awake, then hold her until she fell back to sleep. But tonight her dreams were sweet.
The tan mouse was pretty sure he and sleep weren't going to meet up before morning. He was too agitated, his mind too active - not to mention his hands. Try as he might to stop them, his hands kept wandering. Like they had a mind of their own, one or both would slip under the covers and press flat against his mate's belly. There was nothing to feel, of course, and he would pull away and mentally scold himself...only to do it again a few minutes later.
As he sighed inwardly, his left hand made the journey again, drifting beneath the sheets until it settled firmly against Tamerin's middle. Her skin felt warm underneath the thin fabric of the old band t-shirt she was wearing, that warmth being the only thing he could feel. His mind filled with images of what was out of his reach, what he couldn't yet see. Just beyond where his fingers rested, something was growing inside his mate - something the two of them made together.
Throttle tried to push his thoughts in a more positive direction, but that knot in his stomach wouldn't let him. Each time he tried to assure himself that the three of them would make it out okay in the end no matter how bad things got, his head would fill with stories he had heard over the last several years. Stories from Malteria about pregnancies gone wrong.
Imeerans didn't have complicated pregnancies or births when they mated with each other, but mating outside the species was starting to happen more frequently. No mixed couples had formed after he and Tam, her mother and Rimfire had gotten together - until the children adopted from Stardust House orphanage grew up and found Imeeran partners, that is. Both Tamerin and Ashlin had stayed in touch with each one of their former wards, so Throttle had gotten to know them over the years. As a result, he heard all about it when their attempts at starting a family went sour.
So far, the couples who had been having difficulties consisted of an Imeeran female and a non-Imeeran male, just like Bevra and Rimfire. Only unlike Bevra and Rimfire, no other pregnancies involving such a combination had been successfully carried to term. Most formed in the womb normally, but some of them ended up being ectopic pregnancies, like when Bevra was carrying Astrid. Either way, each of the devastated mothers had miscarried within the first six months.
Despite how painful the whole experience was, Imeeran females were by nature hardy - and stubborn. Some of them had already tried to become mothers again and again. Throttle couldn't help but worry about what would happen when a couple made up of an Imeeran male and a much less hardy non-Imeeran female attempted to conceive.
He worried about what was in his and Tamerin's future just as much. Recent history showed that the chances of them having a strong, healthy baby and a relatively painless pregnancy were all but nonexistent. But maybe, he suddenly thought, having Martian DNA in the mix helped somehow. Bevra's pregnancy hadn't been fun, but she'd made it to the end, and while she wasn't strong, Astrid was nineteen years old now. She'd beaten the odds...but did that mean Martian mice and genetically engineered Imeerans were a good combo? Or was her survival a one-in-a-million fluke?
The thought of getting attached to his own unborn child only to have him or her taken away made Throttle's heart twist in his chest. He pressed his fingers harder against Tamerin's stomach, barely aware of his own actions as he wished there was something he could do - wished he wasn't so helpless.
All of a sudden the quiet sense of calm he had been feeling this whole time drifted away like an ebbing tide. It was replaced by a sleepy mixture of emotions: mild irritation, a gentle regret, understanding. The tan mouse looked up sheepishly as his mate blinked drowsily at him. Her hand rested over his own, still pressed to her belly.
"You're scared again."
There was no point in denying it. Groggy as she was, Tamerin had already traced what he was feeling and figured out what had been on his mind while she slept. Sighing quietly, Throttle shifted closer and laid his head next to hers. "I can't help it," he murmured. "No matter how strong you are, I can't help but be afraid that you'll end up hurt from this. We both might."
He didn't need to elaborate. She knew he wasn't talking about physical pain. In their darkened bedroom, one of the brightest spots was her face, her luminous blue eyes. As those eyes drifted over his face, he could see worry touch her features. Only she wasn't worried about herself. She was a woman facing the possibility of enduring a painful pregnancy for many months only to end up losing her child, and her biggest worry right now was alleviating her mate's fears.
"There probably isn't a whole lot we can learn this early," she said in a quiet voice, "but if you really want to, we can go to the hospital first thing in the morning."
Throttle knew that getting a prenatal checkup this soon was kind of ridiculous, considering that their baby had only been officially conceived less than twenty-four hours ago. But as soon as he pictured teleporting over to Malteria and having his mate looked over by her skillful best friend, something inside him started to relax.
Tamerin took that feeling as a yes, and she gave a quiet yawn as she scooted forward, slipping her arm over his chest and resting her head on his shoulder. As she closed her eyes, Throttle wiggled his arm under her and nudged her closer, settling his cheek against her hair as he closed his own eyes. He still had a mind full of uneasy questions, but he forced them aside for tonight. Something told him that he needed to get his rest while he still could.
When he went to bed that night, Saber had his eighteenth birthday all mapped out in his head. He was going to wake up at sunrise and ride straight over to Vector's. He wasn't going to fill him in on his plan, which he'd (hopefully) perfected while he threw dinner together for himself. He would spend the whole day gleefully withholding this plan from his best friend, since if Vector wasn't going to tell him just what the heck he wanted his dad's bike for, then why should he tell how he was going to steal it? And come sunset he would slip back home, discreetly (again, hopefully) nab the aforementioned vehicle and meet his buddy out in the agreed place.
In reality, the sable rat-cross ended up sleeping through his alarm and didn't wake up until almost noon. And he didn't wake up on his own; the feel of a gentle hand combing through the hair between his ears slowly, pleasantly drew him from his dreams, until he was sleepily blinking his eyes open.
He was lying on his stomach, face smashed into the pillow in such a way he was practically smothering himself. His mother was sitting next to him, leaning over so her elbow rested next to his pillow, head propped on her palm as she smirked at him. "You plan on spending the entire day in bed?"
Saber let out a lengthy yawn, then tugged the blanket up to his nose. "It's my birthday. I can spend the entire day in bed if I really want to."
His mother's smirk grew. "Not in my house, you won't."
The sleepy rodent let out a groan and tried to burrow deeper, but his mother was already tugging the blanket off. Grabbing his shoulder, she pried him up from the mattress and into a sitting position. Saber playfully fought her the entire way, hanging as limply as he could and flopping backwards as she tried to keep him upright.
He ended up slumping against her side, head resting on her shoulder. Pretending like he was a lot smaller and lighter than he really was, the hybrid let his mother bear most of his weight as he snuggled closer to her contently. Sighing, his mother brushed a hand over his tangled hair. "Did you really just turn eighteen? Or are you still eight?"
Her son snickered. Sighing again, Mom shifted a little, putting an arm around his shoulders and hugging her to him like she did when he was small. With her free hand, she continued to pet his hair, running her fingers soothingly down the back of his head.
It wasn't long before Saber felt like he could drift right back to sleep again. But even as a veil of sleepiness draped over him, making him yawn, he could easily imagine what his best friend would do if he could see him right now. Give a dramatic roll of eyes his and demand that he grow up even more dramatically before fleeing from all this parent-child bonding.
Saber could only guess that how he still enjoyed warm hugs from his mother was a rat thing. Either that or it was just his thing. The hyperactive white rodent, on the other hand, had given up on kisses and cuddles by the time he was ten. He was too busy tailing after his father, anxious to learn all about bikes and emulate the same kind of adventures and wild behavior the older mouse was legendary for. Vector learned all about mechanics from his mother, too, but there was no denying that the slightly smaller rodent had grown into a virtual carbon copy of his father in almost every way.
Saber had idolized his own father while growing up, too. The intimidating but fair rat had been infinitely patient when he was small, and most of what Saber knew today, he had learned from him. And the rest of what he knew he had learned from his mother.
Looking at her now, practically rocking him back to sleep like she was, you probably couldn't tell that she was far from one of those docile, stay-at-home kind of moms. If anything, she was even more of a fighter than his dad was. She was the one who showed him how to shoot and taught him hand-to-hand combat, instructed him on how to defend himself and others in sticky situations and how, if need be, to survive in the wild.
Smiling suddenly, his mother pushed his hair back and kissed his forehead. "You know what you are?" she asked.
Of course he did. He could remember her telling him over and over when he was a kid. He feigned teenage indifference, but something inside him warmed pleasantly. "Your favorite surprise."
"That's right. Your father's, too."
She smiled a moment more, her dark eyes full of motherly love as she gazed at him, then kissed his forehead again before shoving him off. "Now get up," she ordered. "I'm going to go warm your breakfast in the oven, so you'd better come eat it in time to call it lunch."
She swept out of his bedroom, and Saber hopped out of bed and shed his sleep clothes. Now that he was done having fun being lazy, he silently scolded himself for sleeping so late as he got dressed in a hurry. Vector couldn't come into their city and drag him out of bed, so he was probably riding around in the desert near one of the spots they usually met at, or pacing angrily at home as he wondered what the holdup was.
Saber knew his best friend was going to give him an earful when he finally showed up, but at the same time he couldn't help snickering as he pictured how crazy the wait had to be making him. Much like his white-furred father, Vector wasn't known for his patience.
After tugging on his favorite pair of gray camo cargo pants and lacing up a well-worn pair of combat boots, the young rat-cross grabbed a male underdweller rat staple: a leather vest decorated with studs and a few zippers, and a few discreetly concealed pockets that were perfect for stashing small weapons and other essentials. There was plenty of room to cram stuff into the spacious pockets of his cargo pants, too.
As he was zipping the dark gray vest up, careful not to snag the fur on his chest, Saber surveyed himself in the mirror tacked to the wall next to his closet. He still looked a little sleepy, and his hair was a mess, so he quickly combed his fingers through it for a minute. While his fur was the same sable black as his dad's (though his wasn't as glossy) his hair had always been grayish, a little like the color of his mother's fur. When he hit his teens it lightened another shade or two, and then, unusually enough but not completely unheard of in male mice, it started showing traces of thin black streaks. Saber thought this unique feature was cool and had worn his hair in a shaggy, rock star-esque style ever since.
After shaking out the shoulder-length locks, he hurried out of his bedroom and to the kitchen. He was still a good ways from the open kitchen doorway when the smell of his breakfast-turned-lunch warming in the oven reached his sensitive nose. Roast fowl stuffed with vegetables? His favorite dinner for breakfast? As strict as she was sometimes, his mother sure knew how to spoil him.
Saber hurried over and gave her a playful bear-hug; chuckling, she ruffled the hair he'd just finished fixing. "Are you heading topside for the day?" she asked as her son smoothed his hair back in place.
The young rat-cross hastily faced the kitchen table and busied himself with filling a plate. "Uh-huh," he said, as casually as he could.
"I don't suppose you'll be back tonight, then."
Saber gave a mute shrug. One thing he had learned during his eighteen years of living was that lying to his mother was impossible - and ill-advised. But over the years (thanks, in part, to coaching from Vector) he had learned how to be vague enough where she would make her own false assumptions. As he took a seat at the table, he sneaked a sidelong glance before focusing on his plate.
His mother had an absent look on her face as she started putting cookware aside to be washed. "Where's Dad?" asked Saber, before shoveling a mound of steaming vegetables into his mouth.
"Over in the eastern tunnel. One of the locks has been acting up lately and he's making sure a new one is installed properly."
That was his dad for you. Always on top of things and making sure everything stayed running smoothly. Saber sneaked another glance and could easily figure out what his mother was thinking. Already planning out a cozy evening alone with her husband while their adult son was out celebrating his eighteenth birthday with his friends. Whether they decided to go out together or stay in, it was highly unlikely either of them would notice that something was missing from the garage, at least not until tomorrow. Saber hoped to have his dad's bike back by then...assuming Vector's plan allowed for it.
After finishing his hearty breakfast, he put his dishes away, kissed his mother goodbye, then grabbed his bike and took off for the surface. Predictably, after he entered mouse territory and rode up to the garage owned and run by Vector's mother, the half-mouse in question was lurking out front. He waited by the main door, back slumped against the wall and arms folded crankily while Saber parked his bike and got off. As soon as his feet touched the ground, Vector darted over and yanked him into a headlock.
"Where the heck have you been all day?" he demanded.
"Out whooping it up. Watch the hair, please."
Grumbling, Vector popped his helmet off and ground his knuckles into his skull before he was satisfied. Good thing he didn't mind the wind-swept look. "You got everything worked out, right?" the hyper rodent asked suspiciously as Saber rubbed his now sore head.
"Of course. We'll have to wait until tonight, though."
Whether his parents were home or not, he wasn't going to risk attempting this in daylight. Not that the time of day ever affected how Neothera looked, since the artificial lights were always lit and the outer tunnels were kept dark when they were empty. But nightfall would lower the chance of someone spotting them once he had his dad's bike on the surface. Hopefully.
"No problem," said Vector, his mood lifting in a hurry. "We can keep busy till then. It'll just be you and me, though," he added, drooping despite having only just perked up. "Joy decided she and Astrid are having a girl's day out and took off this morning."
"She probably wanted to give us rowdy boys our space," Saber noted logically. "And how come you only say that poor kid's name right when she's not around?"
Ignoring his question, Vector moved behind him, grabbed his shoulders and started shoving him into the garage. "Come on," he ordered, "for taking so long getting here you have to help me scrub the grease stains off the floor. Mom's orders."
"I'm the birthday boy. Aren't I exempt from petty labor?"
"Nope."
"Didn't think so."
