Disclaimer - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely ficticious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincedental :)
I do own my own characters - these are all characters that come from my own work, although I have altered names and occupations slightly so they fit into the real world! I also own The Legacy - unfortunately only on paper but I can dream! :D
***Okay! for anyone who skipped the last chapter - Charley and the bro's help Freda unpack some of her books, dvds etc whilst chatting. They discover Freda stresses relatively easily and Throttle is able to identify with some of what Freda says about stress. Freda comes from a predominantly academic family on her Dad's side, and her Mom was American. She gets on relatively well with her Dad's family, but isn't so keen on her Mom's folks. Her Mom's family are rich and her American Grandmother has a tendency to meddle in other people's affairs. So Freda's wealth comes from the family business and her inheritance from her Mom. Her Mom died when she was fifteen and it was at this time she first met one of her American Uncles and his wife, who is Japanese; they live in Muskegon and the chapter finishes with Freda pointing out that Throttle can hardly object to meeting her Aunt and Uncle as most of Chicago knows about them being mice already and don't actually mind considering the bro's save the city on a regular basis. :D hope this is an ok round up - I'm not brilliant at them, but this is the main points. :)
Chapter 9 – Injury
Carbine's eyes flicked toward the movement she'd just caught out of the corner of her eye. Stoker appeared next to her and folded his arms.
"How much longer?" The aging General enquired.
"Not much – we should be there in about ten minutes in fact." Carbine replied tightly. "How's Rimfire holding up?"
"He's in a bad way." Stoker shook his head. "Maybe we should have tried going back to Mars. I know the bro's and Charley will do all they can, but none of them are medically trained."
Carbine let her mind wander back to the events of the past two days; their take off from Mars had been too perfect, no Plutarkian presence at all. Just over a day into the journey the Plutarkians had struck hard and fast. How the three of them had fought off the marauding fish that had tried boarding their ship Carbine didn't know, but they had. It wasn't until after the small Plutarkian vessel had beaten a hasty retreat that she and Stoker had missed Rimfire. She and Stoker had searched the ship frantically before finding the young Freedom Fighter bleeding out on the bridge. She glanced at the area on the floor where blood stains were still horrifyingly visible and sighed deeply.
Stoker placed a reassuring hand on his niece's shoulder; he sighed deeply, his own mind reliving the horror of the trip. He'd fought side by side with the kid against the Plutarkian boarders before they were separated; Rimfire had run after the fish-faced goons that were headed for the bridge, Stoker had carried on beating back the tide that still threatened to board. He'd heard an explosion coming from the direction of the bridge, but thought nothing of it. Rimfire knew better than to get caught like that. The Plutarkians had left rather hurriedly after that; Stoker had leant back against a wall panting for breath. Carbine had soon joined him asking where Rimfire had disappeared to. They'd approached the bridge cautiously; there was no sign of the enemy anywhere. Stoker had sworn badly at the mess facing them. It'd been Carbine who'd first spotted Rimfire's boot sticking out from under some of the wreckage. Swearing ever more profusely Stoker had shifted the twisted metal away from Rimfire; the amount of blood coating the metal closest to the kid made Stoker feel sick to his gut. The sight of the metal cord that had been twisted round Rimfire's wrists and attached to one of the pilot's seats left both mice cold at the thought. Someone had deliberately set a bomb and made sure the kid couldn't get away. Stoker closed his eyes at the memory of the injuries covering Rimfire's body; he didn't know how long the kid could last, but he and Carbine had reached the decision to carry onto earth. Neither knew how Modo would take the news of his nephew's tragic injuries.
They were ten minutes away; their communicator had been blown up in the same explosion that had left Rimfire unconscious so there was no hope of having medical assistance waiting. Carbine had opted to land the ship near Charley's garage rather than at the board. Stoker had agreed warily, Charley did have more medical supplies and know-how than the bro's; it was just a pity she didn't have a medical degree.
"Buckle up." Carbine warned as she began the descent. Stoker flopped into the nearest seat and fastened the straps around himself. Rimfire was already strapped down in his quarters, but Stoker still felt guilty over leaving the kid.
"Sure hope Charley girl is up for a challenge." Stoker breathed as the Last Chance came into view.
"Great – Throttle wasn't kidding about Charley having a new neighbour." Carbine hissed in annoyance.
"Too late." Stoker warned. "We can't go flying back up in the air without attracting more attention – just go down Carbine."
Freda watched the ship descend behind the Last Chance, glimmering in the late afternoon sun; she knew Charley was already over there working on the bikes with the bro's, she looked down at the plan she was working on. The garden was going to be a tricky one Freda mused, with such limited space she would be unable to recreate the sprawling garden she'd had in Gloucestershire. She gazed beyond the land she'd bought and out at the waste the stink fish known as Limburger had created. A slow smile crept across her face; she'd never been a shrinking violet when it came to challenges or facing off against bullies.
Charley and the bro's watched the craft descend with puzzled looks; they'd had no communication as to the time of landing, and it was odd that Carbine had picked the garage rather than the scoreboard as a landing place. Familiar feelings of worry began stirring through the group as the ship settled; Charley folded her arms and stood back watching the bro's. Vinnie was pacing restlessly; Modo chewing his nails, a sign of deep perturbation for the large mouse; and Throttle was stock still, arms folded and chewing his bottom lip. When the door finally opened only Carbine stepped out; her face was grave.
"Where's Stoker?" Vinnie demanded.
"And Rimfire?" Modo added. Carbine looked at Throttle pleadingly before turning her gaze to Modo.
"We were attacked by the Plutarkians on the way here; Rimfire got hurt real bad." Carbine hung her head. "I'm sorry Modo."
"What? No! Rimfire!" Modo clenched his fists as Carbine's words sunk in. Throttle placed a steadying hand on Modo's arm.
"It'll be ok bro." Throttle whispered. Charley froze for a few seconds before quietly slipping over to Vinnie.
"Get them to bring Rimfire to Freda's as fast as they can." Charley murmured quietly in the white mouse's ear. Vinnie looked startled at the command, but nodded firmly. Charley broke into a flat out run as she rounded the corner of the garage; luckily Freda spotted her and met her.
"Modo's nephew Rimfire is hurt bad – can you help?" Charley gasped.
"Charley – I'm a historian not a doctor..." Freda gasped in shock. Charley knew Freda had a first aid certificate and had studied medieval medicine, but her knowledge was very limited apart from that. Freda ran her hand round to the back of her neck and groaned.
"You know more than I do – and we can't take him to a hospital." Charley explained quietly. "I told Vinnie to bring them over here already."
Freda raised an eyebrow; Charley wouldn't have invited people over without her prior knowledge for no good reason. Freda sighed and strode back into the house; she opened the cupboard under the stairs and rummaged for a moment before reappearing with a large bag. Noises from the kitchen betokened the arrival of the mice with Charley.
"Seriously! We can't just waltz into someone's house!" A female voice sounded off in exasperation.
"Modo!" The voice was male, and Freda immediately identified the speaker as Stoker even though she hadn't seen him for months.
"Look Freda already knows about us." Throttle shouted over the din.
"Freda? Freda's here – I mean this is the Freda I met right?" Stoker sounded excited. Freda smiled, so the old rogue remembered.
"You know Freda?" Vinnie sounded shocked. Modo had made it into the hall carrying his unconscious nephew and stared at Freda standing with the bag held ready.
"Upstairs – come on." Freda ordered. Modo immediately obeyed. The others had clattered into the hall and stood watching Modo follow the human woman.
"Alright would someone care to tell me just what is going on here?" The female Martian snapped. "No? Fine, well I'll just enjoy wandering round in the dark then."
Freda's typical of a lot of female re-enactors in that she is first aid trained, there are blokes who do first aid as well, but it's more common for the women to worry over it. Also a lot of re-enactors have a slightly freaky fascination with old fashioned medicine...
Please review and/or leave constructive criticism :D
