Modo woke to the call of nature. He glanced at the nightstand beside the bed. Sky had left a brass bell there in case he needed to ask for help. But it had been embarrassing having her stick that bedpan under the blankets, and more embarrassing when she had examined the contents of the bedpan, looking for traces of blood. He would prefer to avoid that happening again, if he could.
Slowly, very slowly, he eased himself out of bed. He felt a little off-balance for the first few steps. He kept one hand on the wall as he made his way to the door. His Martian senses being much more sensitive than a human's he was able to find the bathroom without any trouble. He did what he needed to do, then returned to the guest room.
He only needed to hold onto the wall a few times on the way back. He took a deep breath, more tired than he'd expected to be from the short walk. He glanced at the bed. Deliberately, he walked around the room. He hadn't had a chance to see anything but the ceiling yet. Modo didn't think Sky would approve of him being out of bed, but he at least wanted to look around before he went horizontal again. A window let in a glimpse of sunshine; the rain was over. Two swords hanging from the far wall caught his eye, and he slowly walked over to examine them.
A padded kneeler was on the floor before the swords. The two swords were carefully displayed. Both wore black sheaths. One was nearly two feet long, with a slight curve to the blade. The other was about two-thirds the length of the sword above it. The swords looked vaguely familiar. Modo glanced at the wall behind the swords. Above them was a world map, but different from the one Charley had shown him and his bros. The United States were off to the side; the map was centered with Asia in the middle. There was writing on it, but he couldn't read it. On either side of the map were a collection of framed photographs. Almost all the people were very fair, with dark hair and epicanthic eyes. In some of the pictures, people wore ordinary clothing, the sort he'd gotten used to seeing Earthlings wear. In others, the men wore ordinary clothing, but the women wore elaborate robes. And in what appeared to be the oldest photographs, everyone wore robes. Modo remembered a Toshiro Mifune movie he and his bros had seen with Charley. The robes were kimonos. The blades were samurai swords. The long one was a katana; the shorter one was a wakazashi.
"Those were my Daddy's," a young voice said behind him.
Modo whirled, and nearly lost his balance. Ken stood at the doorway. The mouse had been too distracted to hear the boy come in. He took a deep breath. Once he felt sturdy on his feet again, he asked, "Was your father a sword fighter?"
"Mama says he was a mechanic and a sho- shauph," the ten-year-old stumbled over the big word.
"A chauffeur?" Modo asked.
Ken nodded. "He drove this rich guy around and took care of all his cars."
Modo noticed the past tense. He took another look at the swords, map, and pictures, and wondered if it was a family altar. "He's dead?"
"Grandma says so. Mama says maybe. He and his rich guy disappeared before I was born. Mama says it was a kidnapping gone wrong. She wants to know if you're well enough for breakfast."
"Yeah, I'd like some breakfast," Modo agreed.
"What do mice eat for breakfast?" Ken seemed far more interested in the dietary habits of giant alien rodents than he was in the father he'd never met.
"Anything humans do. Whatever your mama's got in the kitchen'll be fine; she don't need to do anything fancy for me." As a freedom fighter against the Plutarkian invaders, Modo had gone hungry too many times to be fussy about what he ate. "Lead the way."
Ken shook his head. "I don't think Mama wants you out of bed yet."
Modo opened his mouth to protest that he was perfectly capable of walking to the kitchen to eat when he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. One of the few color photographs showed Sky, looking several years younger, and an Asian man. The man, presumably Ken's father, wore a chauffeur's uniform. Sky was in uniform, too: a police uniform.
Modo closed his mouth again. He'd seen enough Earth TV to know the police motto was "to serve and protect." He'd also seen a lot of Earth movies and TV shows where police were untrustworthy, their weapons for sale to the highest bidder. He'd seen other shows where cops were heroes, courageous defenders and avengers. Which sort was Sky? Was she just taking care of him until she could turn him over to the authorities?
He heard footsteps and turned to see Sky standing in the doorway.
"Who told you that you could get out of bed?" she demanded. She didn't wait for an answer. "Get back in that bed this instant."
"Yes, ma'am," Modo agreed meekly. She sounded too much like his grey-furred mama to argue. There was something about mothers that was universal.
"Ken, didn't I send you up to see if Mr. Modo was hungry?"
"Yes, Mama, and he says he is," the boy reported.
Her tone a little gentler, Sky asked, "You feel up to eating solid food?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"He says he'll eat anything we got, Mama," Ken reported.
"We'll start you out with some toast and juice. If you can keep that down, I'll let you have a little more."
Modo had to bite his lip to keep from chuckling at how much she sounded like his own mother back on Mars. "Thank you, Mama Sky."
"Back to bed." She stood there waiting, not leaving the room until he did so. He wasn't brave enough to disobey her.
BMFM BMFM BMFM BMFM
Throttle and Vinnie investigated Limburger Tower, as discreetly as two giant rodents could. They beat up some of Limburger's minions and henchmen, which was good stress relief for them, but didn't find Modo.
Charley stayed in the garage, working on an old AMC Ambassador and worrying. Mostly worrying.
BMFM BMFM BMFM BMFM
Sky removed the thermometer from Modo's mouth. "Your fever's coming down. That's good."
Modo did not reply. He was still pondering what he had learned about Sky before breakfast. He wanted to trust her, but he wasn't sure he should.
"I tried to ask you before, but you fell asleep. Is there someone I can call – someone I can let know you're all right? Well, not all right, but alive at least."
Modo's right eye narrowed. "My bros'll be worried about me, yeah. But I ain't sure I want to give their number to a cop to trace."
"Sgt. Schuyler is off-duty at the moment. I'm not wearing my badge. I'm not in uniform."
Modo only stared at her.
She sighed. Her eyebrow rose. "Do you know how long the paperwork for a wire tap takes? By the time a judge said yes, all your bruises will have long since healed." She deliberately did not mention that wire tapping and tracing phone calls not only required different technology, but fell under completely different regulations. "As far as I know, you aren't wanted for any crimes in Chicago … with the possible exception of being an illegal alien, and that's outside my jurisdiction." She laid a hand on his shoulder. "You are not a prisoner. You are a guest in my home."
Modo thought a moment. Once upon a time, back on Mars, that sentence was more than just a statement of fact. It was a pledge of hospitality and protection.
"The Last Chance Garage. Call the Last Chance Garage; they'll take a message," Modo said.
Sky nodded. "I'll call and let them know you're alive and up to visitors, but not well enough too go home yet."
"Thank you, Mama Sky." Modo closed his eyes. "Don't s'pose you've got ten or twelve aspirin?"
"I'll get you six, then call."
BMFM BMFM BMFM BMFM
Charley grabbed the phone before the first ring ended,banging her knuckles on the Ambassador's undercarriage as she hurried to answer. "Last Chance Garage, Charley Davidson speaking."
"This is Joyce Schuyler. I'm looking for whomever is in charge of your lost and found department."
"That would be me," Charley said. No customers had left anything behind at the garage recently.
"I think I may have something of yours: gray, six foot, does a decent Nick Fury impression?"
"Modo? You found Modo!"
"Question – are you Charley-ma'am?"
"Yes, he calls me that sometimes. Where is he? Is he all right?" Charley asked.
"He's alive, but Id'd be lyinh if I said he was all right."
"Oh, no!" Charley exclaimed. "How badly is he hurt?"
Sky hesitated a second before answering. "Bad enough he's bandaged and on bed rest. Well enough to appreciate some visitors." She paused before continuing. "He mentioned his bros. If anyone has first aid experience particular to his, um, background, that would be helpful."
If Charley hadn't been so worried, she might have been amused by the way tried to talk around Modo being a giant alien mouse. "The guys know more than I do about his anatomy."
"If whomever comes to visit would bring a change of clothes and some painkillers, it would be appreciated."
"Can do."
Sky gave Charley the address. "We're just above Pulaski's Bowling Alley."
As soon as Charley hung up the phone, she raced for the CB radio. "Throttle, Vinnie, come in. Throttle, Vinnie, can you hear me?"
"We hear you, Charley-girl," Throttle replied.
"He's alive! Come back to the garage ASAP," Charley demanded.
Vinnie howled triumphantly.
"On our way," Throttle acknowledged.
BMFM BMFM BMFM BMFM
The pair arrived at the Last Chance Garage so quickly that Charley knew they hadn't been anywhere near the speed limit. Charley didn't scold them. She seldom respected speed limits herself, and besides, this was for Modo.
Vinnie pulled off his helmet and turned his head, scanning the garage from left to right. "Where's Modo?"
"At Pulaski's Bowling Alley," Charley replied.
Throttle swore. "What's he doing there?"
"Recuperating. The lady who's taking care of him asked me to bring some Martian-safe painkillers. Do you have any left in your first aid kits?"
"This'll kill what little is left," Throttle admitted, "but better to kill our supplies than our bro."
"Joyce Schuyler. Why does that name sound familiar?" Charley asked herself.
"Never heard of her," Vinnie said.
Charley raised one eyebrow, but said nothing. There was plenty Vinnie didn't know about life on Earth, even after more than a year living on the third planet from the sun. "I wasn't sure if we should all go, or just me. Call me paranoid, but it might be a trap."
Throttle nodded. "We all go, but you go first. Make sure it's safe."
"You want Charley to go first when it might be a trap?" Vinnie protested. "We're supposed to rescue damsels from distress, not shove them into the line of fire."
"Charley goes first, then signals. She's human. Let's face it," Throttle said, "we're a little … conspicuous. But we go to get Modo, trap or not. He'd come for us."
Vinnie and Charley nodded. Whether this was a rescue mission or a sickbed visit, they would do whatever they could for Modo.
BMFM BMFM BMFM BMFM
Throttle, Vinnie, and Charley parked their motorcycles out of sight, behind the dumpsters by the bowling alley's back door. Throttle took his helmet off and tried to contact Modo telepathically. After a moment, he frowned.
"Anything?" Charley asked.
"I can feel him – sort of – but I can't hear him."
Charley took off her own helmet and latched it to the back of her Harley-Davidson. "Well, here goes nothing."
Vinnie reached out and put a paw on her arm. "Be careful."
"I will."
A few minutes later, Charley was knocking on the door of the bowling alley's second floor. She heard running feet and childish voices.
"I'll get it!"
"My turn."
"I'll get it," Charley heard a woman say.
A moment later a strawberry blonde woman opened the door. She was older than Charley, in her 30s or wore blue jeans and a black t-shirt with a white 8X logo. She looked Charley over carefully, but discreetly. "May I help you?"
"I'm Charlene Davidson. You called about Modo?"
Sky's face broke into a smile. She extended her hand to shake Charley's. "Joyce Schuyler. Come in, please. I wasn't expecting you so soon. This way." Sky turned and led the way to Modo's room.
She tapped lightly on the door. "Are you awake?"
"Yes, ma'am," Modo called through the door.
Sky opened the door. "You've got a visitor."
"Modo!" Charley started to rush toward the bed, then stopped herself. "Are you safe to hug?"
"Probably not, but you'll hurt my feelings if you don't, Charley-ma'am."
Charley walked the last two feet to the bed and hugged Modo as gently as she could. "You scared us, Modo."
"Scared me, too," he admitted.
"Let's make it unanimous," Sky chimed in. "I think everyone got a little freaked out by this. I'm going to give you some privacy, OK? Holler if you need me." She left the room without waiting for an answer and closed the door behind her.
"Are you all right? How badly are you hurt? What happened?" Charley demanded.
"Easy, Charley, don't forget to breathe." Modo patted the edge of his bed.
Charley sat down beside him. She took a deep breath. "How are you doing?"
Modo held out his arm to show off his stitches. "Sliced up, bruised, battered, possible cracked ribs, and a probable concussion. Can't tell you how much it hurts without using language I don't dare use in front of you."
Charley didn't bother telling him that no matter what he said, she'd probably heard it before. Heck, she'd probably said it herself.
"I was trying to lose Limburger's men, when my bike skidded going through a," Modo paused, trying to remember the word, "a puddle." It wasn't a word that was used often on Mars. "Next thing I knew, I woke up here, with Mama Sky taking care of me."
"Mama Sky?"
"Mrs. Schuyler. That's what she said to call her."
Charlie hugged Modo as gently as she could, not wanting to pain his cracked ribs. She glanced at the poster above the bed. It had a collage of four women and a quotation: Elizabeth I, Queen Victoria, Cleopatra, and Boudicca, "Whatever women do, they must do twice as well as men to be thought half as good. Luckily, this is not difficult." Charlotte Whitten
# * # * # * # * # * # * # * # * #
Author's Note: Joyce Schuyler was a Mary Sue I created back in the late '70s, long before I knew of the existence of fanfic and before I had heard the word Mary Sue. I created her to be worthy of Kato, the Green Hornet's assistant, and in attempting to make her worthy of him, I may have gone a little overboard. I worked so hard to make her worthy of Kato, that she didn't have time to date him.
Sky currently lives with son Ken Kato,10; nephew Aaron Schuyler, 16; niece Alice Schuyler, 16; late partner's son Malachi Washington, 7. Occasionally other strays, runaways, witnesses, etc.
Background info not for publication, only for the benefit of beta-readers and fanzine editors.
Throttle (voiced by Rob Paulsen) - The leader-figure of the trio with tan fur. Throttle's vision was damaged in the same incident that caused the losses of Modo's arm and the right side of Vinnie's face. As a result, he wears green sunglasses with field spec capabilities. On his right hand he wears a battle glove (coined "Nuke Knucks") which increases the strength of his blows with that fist. He also has a laser pistol as another weapon of choice. His first symbolic quote in the series was, "In this wild and woolly universe, there are three things you can count on: your brains, your bros and your bike!"
Modo (voiced by Dorian Harewood) - The gentle giant of the three with gray fur and an eye-patch, suggesting that his eye may have been damaged during Karbunkle's experiments. He lost his right arm in the same incident that burned off the right side of Vinnie's face and damaged Throttle's vision. His robotic arm replacement has a built-in laser cannon and has great strength. When angry, his right eye flashes red. He is prone to fits of rage when he or his bros are referred to as 'rats'. He is by far the strongest of the three mice, but also seems to have the most obvious capacity to love (Vinnie's attempts are often considered to be flirting). His bike is the only one out of the three with a definite name ("Lil' Hoss"), and the one with the most demonstrated AI capability. He always references what his greyfurred mama used to say. His first signature quote was "RAT?!" "My mama didn't raise no stinkin' rat! UNDERSTAND?!"
Vinnie (voiced by Ian Ziering) - Self-proclaimed lady-killer with white fur. The right side of his face was burned off in the same incident where Throttle's vision was damaged and where Modo lost his right arm; thus, Vinnie wears a flexible faceplate. He rides a red racing Sport bike, and is a thrill-seeker, often volunteering for the most dangerous tasks, enjoying the rush and subsequent glory. He wears a green X-cross bandolier on his chest and wields expanding flares as well. His bike seems to have the greatest arsenal of weaponry between the three, and he is the best overall biker of the trio. He has a recurring catchphrase, "What a rush!", and has a signature laugh of triumph.
Charlene "Charley" Davidson (voiced by Leeza Miller McGee) - The Mice are always backed up by Charley, a human mechanic who owns the Last Chance Garage in Chicago. She is a headstrong woman, and is always ready to go into battle, though the Biker Mice try to keep her out of dangerous situations. Aside from being the target of Vinnie's affection (which she playfully blows off), she is also responsible for upgrades on the bros' bikes, is a high-tech genius in her own right, and is a biker every bit as skilled as the Biker Mice. Her name is quite obviously a pun on the famous Harley Davidson brand of motorcycles
1 Yes, I stole this from Rooster. In the immortal words of Ernest Pratt, "It's not plagiarism, it's an homage." (Anybody old enough to remember Rooster or Legend?")