In the Last Chance Garage, the morning sun beat against the windows.
"Hey Stoke, do you have a three-eighths socket over there?" Charley pulled back from the engine and glanced over to where Stoker was working on the battered faring of her bike.
Stoker scuffled through the toolkit beside him. "Can't see one, Beautiful. Are you sure it's not over with you?"
"No. Where on Earth is it? I swear, if Vinnie's had it again..."
Stoker glanced around the garage but didn't see the tool in question. He finally spotted it, half-hidden under a tarp. They both reached for it. As his hand touched Charley's she blushed.
Stoker smiled. "Martian women don't blush, you know."
"They don't?"
"No," he said, pulling her into his arms. Charley looked up at him, her cheeks aflame. "Which makes it harder to know how they feel. But that can be exciting, too." He rested his lips on hers, wondering if she would pull away. She didn't, instead she reached up and tangled her fingers in his hair.
"So how do you know how they feel?" she murmured.
Stoker pulled away so he could see her eyes.
"You make your move and hope their claws don't take your face off." He laughed at her shocked expression.
"We don't have claws," she said.
"I noticed." He stopped further questions by pressing his lips to hers again. A gentle snore drifted over to them from the couch. Stoker pulled back and looked down at Charley. "Why don't we let the pup sleep in peace and get something to drink?"
"Sure. Soda?"
"Whatever that is." He stood, still holding her hand, then pulled her to her feet. From there it was easy to wrap his arms around her again and enjoy the firm texture of her mouth. He slid a finger down her cheek and throat, marvelling at the strange, smooth texture of naked skin. "How strange not to have fur."
"I'd feel pretty odd if I had it," she said, tugging on his chest fur above the collar of his shirt.
"Ouch."
"Baby."
He grinned and swept her into his arms. She squeaked and grabbed at him, laughing.
"Shh," he said, "you'll wake Rimfire."
The both heard the rumble of the bikes approaching. Stoker deposited Charley back on her feet as Rimfire started awake.
"Huh?" he said sleepily, looking around.
"They're back early," said Charley, glancing at Stoker. He squeezed her hand then stepped forward as the bikes pulled up. Charley cried out and rushed forward and Stoker saw the dark blood staining Throttle's tan fur. Stoker calmly walked to the kitchen for the first aid kit. If Throttle was still riding, he was all right.
"Just a flesh wound, Charley-girl," he heard Throttle say.
"Get in here, Rookie." He glanced up as Throttle came into the kitchen. "And take off that vest." He gestured to a chair with his tail and rummaged in the kit for a probe. "What disinfectant do you have, Beautiful?"
Charley eased the vest off a wincing Throttle and looked up. "The clear stuff, in the bottle."
Stoker sniffed at it, then snorted. It would do. He pulled a chair up and looked at the wound. The bullet had punched a neat hole in Throttle's bicep. There was no exit wound. "Projectile weapons! What sort of backwards, barbaric culture is this?" He picked up the probe and glanced at Vinnie. "So what happened?"
Vinnie leaned against the doorframe and rolled his eyes, his tail flicking back and forth like an angry cat. "There are cops everywhere out there. That slimy stink-fish Limburger has something to do with it, I'm sure."
Modo nodded. "Ah don' know how, but he's got the streets covered."
"Yeah. You can barely flick a tail out there without alerting a cop."
"But surely the police aren't on Limburger's side?" said Charley. He saw her soak up some blood with a pad of sterile gauze. "He's never used them before."
"Maybe he's not, maybe they're there for some gnnuh," Throttle swallowed and continued. "Other reason."
"Easy," said Stoker.
"Like what?" said Vinnie.
"I don't know."
"Cover," said Rimfire. "Old trick. They can't move, we can't move, and while we sit, they're working on something."
"Well, we're working on something too," Stoker said, peering at the raw flesh. "And you still haven't explained how the Rookie got shot."
"We were trying to avoid a multitude of policemen and ran into some goons," said Modo.
"And as we were restricted in the amount of tail whipping we could do," said Vinnie.
"...they got in first," Modo finished.
Throttle grunted and slammed his fist onto the table as Stoker probed through the muscle.
"Sorry, Rookie. Almost got it." With a deft twist Stoker flicked the bullet onto the table. Throttle ground his teeth. Charley rushed forward, all sympathetic nurse, and Stoker decided to leave her to it. He washed the blood off his hands in the sink and dried them on a towel hanging on the stove, then watched Charley clean and bandage Throttle's arm. "You should be a field medic, Charley."
"I've had enough practice," she said, fastening the bandage and straightening. "There. That will keep it clean."
"Time to get to work," Stoker said, tossing the towel onto the bench. "Rimfire, you and Charley get into that communications satellite. Modo, Vinnie and I will get the bikes into shape."
"What about me?" Throttle poked at the bandage on his arm. Charley slapped his hand away.
"You need to rest," said Charley, frowning.
Stoker smiled at the look on Throttle's face. "Good idea. And while you're resting, you can do kitchen duty."
"Stoke! He's hurt!" Charley cried.
Stoker snorted. "He's been hurt a lot worse. Get moving, freedom fighters."
Out in the garage, Stoker was placing the faring back on Charley's bike when he heard her step up behind him. He looked up into a pair of angry green eyes.
"A word with you," she said.
Stoker nodded and gestured outside. He grinned at her forceful stride as she stormed out into the alleyway. He closed the door behind him as she whirled to face him, admiring the way she tossed her hair over her shoulders with a quick, angry gesture.
"How could you treat him like that?"
"Like what?"
Charley flung a hand up in the direction of the kitchen. "He's hurt!"
"He's been a lot worse. He's still walking."
"Stoker! He was shot! You pulled a bullet out of his arm!"
Stoker shrugged. "We all get hurt at one time or another."
Charley snapped her mouth shut and Stoker watched, fascinated, as the colour rose on her cheeks. She stepped forward and stabbed a finger into his chest.
"Do you even care? He's supposed to be your friend! How could you be so cold-hearted?"
"Charley, look..."
A crash from the kitchen made them both jump. Charley stepped forward again, forcing Stoker to take a step back.
"And now he's in my kitchen!" She turned and stalked through the door, slamming it behind her.
Stoker sighed and looked up into the blue sky. "Wonderful things, women," he said to the unseen planet above, "but emotional. Very emotional." He winked at his red lady and walked back into the garage.
For the rest of the morning, work progressed rapidly. The others seemed to be aware of Charley's mood and the atmosphere was subdued and quiet, punctuated occasionally by crashes from the kitchen.
Stoker tried to ignore Charley's abrupt movements and concentrated on repairing the damage to her bike. He was fitting the final piece of faring back on when Charley threw down the screwdriver she was working on.
"Done!" she said, running a hand through her hair.
Rimfire picked up the small device. "Nice work, Charley. You should come and teach a few classes for us."
Charley sighed. "Thank you, three Freedom Fighters are quite enough. I don't think I could cope with more."
Stoker looked back to the faring, aware that she had turned to look at him. He screwed the faring bolts in place.
"Lunch!" said Throttle. Stoker looked up again as Throttle appeared in the doorway with a tray of hot dogs. Modo, Vinnie and Rimfire made a dash for the tray as Throttle carried it to the table.
"Hey bro, where's the sauce?" said Vinnie.
"I'll get it," said Stoker.
In the kitchen, he found the cupboard with food and looked at the row of bottles. One of these, he supposed. He pulled one out, opened it and sniffed.
"That's mint sauce, and I don't think even those walking stomachs could handle it on hot dogs," said Charley behind him. He turned as she approached. She reached past him and grabbed a red bottle. "It's ketchup they want."
"Right."
"Stoke..." she put the bottle down on the sink and looked up at him. "I'm sorry about what I said. Implying that you don't care. I know you do, it's just that, well…"
"Don't worry about it, Beautiful. I've had much worse bawling-outs than that." He looked her up and down. "Not by anyone as attractive, though."
"Oh, you-!" Charley grabbed a tea towel from the stove and snapped it at him. He ducked out of the way and grabbed it, yanking her towards him. When she thumped against his chest he wrapped his arms around her and looked down into her smiling face.
"Rogue," she said softly before he kissed her.
"Anyone else want a soda?" said Vinnie. At the general chorus of affirmatives he pushed off the chair, drained the last drops out of his can and walked into the kitchen. His jaw dropped at the sight before him and the can of drink fell from his hand with a clatter.
Stoker broke off the kiss, smiling down at Charley, still enclosed by his arms. He raised one hand and brushed a stray strand of hair from her face. In the doorway, Vinnie gibbered. Charley drew a breath to speak but Stoker brushed a thumb across her lips. Still smiling, he released her from his arms and stepped back.
Blushing furiously, Charley glanced at Vinnie once before moving over to the sink, her back to them. Stoker reached past her and picked up the sauce then turned and walked out the door, past a still speechless Vinnie, who found his voice just as Stoker stepped past him.
"You...!" he hissed, jealous and furious.
"You snooze, you lose. Punk," Stoker murmured quietly, and laughed.
Stoker tried to keep a straight face as Vinnie stormed back into the garage.
"More hotdogs, bro?" said Modo, offering Vinnie the much-depleted tray.
"No thanks. I'm not hungry," snapped the white-furred mouse, glaring at Stoker, tail lashing angrily.
As he ate, Stoker pondered how they were going to get the satellite into orbit. Limburger tower would be locked down tight after their last invasion, and the presence of the bio-soldiers made it a much more risky venture to ride in there and use his equipment. Not to mention the gun-happy police. Still, life was meant to be exciting.
Charley came back into the room as they were polishing off the last few dogs. Stoker smiled to himself at the heightened colour in her cheeks. He wiped his hands on his pants and leaned back. The chair creaked alarmingly and he leaned forward again. Flimsy Earth furniture.
"All right ladies and freedom fighters, we need to work out a sure-fire plan for getting back into Limburger tower, dodging the bio-soldiers, firing this satellite into orbit and getting out of there with our tails intact. Suggestions?"
"We need a good diversion. What about Bike and Pike 14?"
"Nah, would never work with those stairs."
"We could do a Tank and Bank 7."
"Yeah, very good bro, you see any tanks handy?"
"How about a combo of moves, a Brake and Take 93 with a Steer and Veer 21, followed up with a Tail-slinger 44?"
"Hey, that could work."
"It'll be tricky with the Bio-soldiers though."
"Wouldn't a Spearhead 9 be better than a Steer and Veer?"
"Why don't we use a Roddenberry 17?" said Charley.
"A what?" chorused Stoker and Rimfire.
"A Roddenberry, it's a transporter move," said Throttle. He turned to Charley. "But Charley, we have to get into the building first to use the transporter."
"Yes, we would, if I hadn't already pinched a remote transporter from Karbunkle's lab."
There was silence for a moment then Stoker leapt up, grabbed Charley and swung her around while the boys whooped and cheered. Stoker deposited her back on her feet, unhooked the earring from his ear and pinned it to the shoulder of her shirt.
"Charley-girl, it's official, you are amazing. Welcome to the Freedom Fighters."
"Why thank you, Stoker," she said, fingering the earring. "Saving your tails again, boys. What would you do without me?"