Chapter 9
I'm alive without you
And I'm better off alone
Like a queen on her throne
I can fly without you
And this time I'm gonna make it
Here on my own
~I'm Alive; Issa
Throttle knew that Modo would want to talk to Rimfire alone, and he also knew that Tamerin was here somewhere too, so after he rode over to the base he kept to himself, absently pacing up and down a secluded back corridor for a while. He hadn't been here in months, but everything looked the way he remembered; a seemingly endless collection of hallways and connecting rooms, all colored the same gray-green, though the hallways and rooms in the infirmary were more of a gray-white. The monochrome look and lack of variety to the overall design made it easy to get turned around - or completely lost - if you weren't familiar with the layout. Which of course was the whole idea, in case enemy feet happened to come walking through.
It was an environment that was stiff and formal, and Throttle felt edgy as he paced. A short time later he saw Modo come out of the infirmary looking relieved, and his step seemed lighter as he smiled, like a heavy weight had just been lifted from him. Throttle could easily guess why. "So...everything's okay?" Throttle asked as they met up.
Modo smiled again, understanding that he wasn't just referring to the young guard's health. "Yeah. He's restin' now, and he, uh, has his 'nurse' to look after him."
"I'm jealous," Throttle said with a sigh. "My nurse is still avoiding me like the plague."
"You'll survive. Absence makes the heart grow fonder 'n all that. I'm gonna head home now, okay?"
Throttle nodded. "Sure. Charley closed up the garage, so we can all forget about work for now."
The large gray mouse hurried off, and Throttle headed back across the base with another sigh. He could feel Tamerin somewhere close by and he was trying to keep his distance. But with nothing else to focus on except her, he suddenly noticed how strange her mood was. She was amused, yet agitated, like she was in the middle of a situation where she wasn't completely sure how to act.
It piqued his curiosity enough for him to head closer, moving down the crisp, narrow hallways and turning corners as he was guided by their strengthening bond. When he sensed that she was only a few feet away, he suddenly heard her voice - and that wasn't all he heard. Another voice joined hers, a voice...that he knew every bit as well as he knew Tam's.
Oh, shit.
As his feet jerked forward in a sudden burst of speed, Throttle could just picture what was going on beyond the open doorway that loomed before him. A historic first: a Martian mouse and an Imeeran in the cat-fight of the century. Only when he burst through the doorway and skidded to a stop, he was greeted by the strangest of sounds.
Laughter.
"What the hell is this?"
Tamerin was straddling a chair, her arm draped over the back of it, and Carbine was perched on the edge of a nearby desk, one leg tucked up near her chest while her other foot rested on the floor. She had a glass bottle in her hand, and she was leaning forward to pour its contents into the glass Tamerin was holding out. The General paused mid-pour as they both turned their heads and looked at him, their puzzled expressions matching. "We're taking part in one of most basic rituals of recreation," Carbine stated, her dry tone suggesting that their actions were too obvious to need an explanation.
Throttle blinked a couple of times; his eyes focused on the bottle. "Getting hammered?" he guessed, his tone equally dry.
Tamerin sat back with a giggle. She didn't usually giggle. Just when she was in a good mood...or nervous. He couldn't tell which. "Girl talk," Tamerin corrected.
"Oh."
And since when were his mate and ex on such good terms that they were able to placidly sit down for girly chitchat? His complete and utter bewilderment must have been plain on his face, because both females giggled at him - both of them - before clinking their drinks together. "Here," Carbine ordered, turning and shoving the bottle into his hand. "This'll put hair on your chest."
This remark made Tamerin snicker behind her hand. After staring blankly at them both for a long moment, Throttle took a swig from the bottle - and promptly shoved it back at Carbine with a cough. "Smooth," he rasped.
The General just smirked and sipped from the bottle, while Throttle's throat continued to burn and his eyes kept watering. And people had the nerve to ask why he and his bros only ever drank root beer.
Tamerin tossed back her full glass and downed it in one gulp, while Throttle stared in mute surprise. Carbine looked equally surprised. Tamerin gazed calmly back at them both as she finished swallowing. "What?"
"You're only supposed to sip a drink that strong," Throttle told her.
"So you don't get drunk in one go," Carbine added.
Forehead lining in puzzlement, Tamerin looked down at her empty glass. "Is this alcohol?"
Carbine glanced at Throttle with another smirk. "It ain't root beer."
Tamerin set her glass down with a faint clink. "I thought it tasted funny," she noted, with a slight frown. "I've never had any before, since we don't bother stocking Malteria with hard liquor."
"How do those blood filters of yours work, exactly?" Throttle wondered.
"I'm not really sure. I would assume they simply strain the alcohol out of the bloodstream and..." Pulling a face, Tamerin suddenly squirmed in her seat. "And then send it straight on to the, um..."
She squirmed again, and then, with a sound of dismay, she jumped to her feet and bolted for the door. Throttle hopped out of the way and watched her run down the hall. "First door on your right," he called after her.
She pivoted on her heel and vanished from sight. Chuckling, Throttle turned around - and felt his humor fade in a hurry. Carbine had gotten up from the desk and moved closer, her dark eyes studying him intently from her equally humorless face. He was glad that his own eyes weren't visible, so she couldn't see how he glanced uncertainly down at the tops of his boots as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. He had seen her from a distance a handful of times, but this was the first time they had met face to face - alone - since they broke up.
"So," he finally said, after the silence had mounted to an uncomfortable degree. "How've you been?"
He expected her to shoot him a 'how do you think?' look and turn away, but instead she surprised him by flashing a faint - almost shy - smile. "Good. Really good, actually. I think I'm one of those girls who's happier single. It's been nice, being on my own for a change."
Throttle wasn't sure what to say in response...or sure how he felt about what she'd just said. As far as he knew, he had been her only real boyfriend - just like she had been his first real girlfriend - and they had been a couple since their teens. So he had to wonder which was making her happier: being alone, or just being without him.
It was one of those things that he knew he was better off not knowing or asking about. If they had both reached a place where they could speak civilly to each other, then it was best to just nod quietly and change the subject. "What happened this morning, anyway?" he asked.
Carbine's smooth expression changed abruptly, shifting to that general-mode hardness he was so familiar with. She turned and grabbed a folder off the nearby desk. "Something that's been happening off and on for the last couple of weeks," she responded, her tone grim. "It's nothing that has anything to do with any mouse directly, but..."
She leafed through the contents of the folder for a moment, then set it aside and faced him again, arms folded. "According to the latest report, scattered groups of rats and sand raiders have joined together and now they're fighting each other over territory and resources. A handful of our guards and a few civvies simply got caught in the middle of things...not that either side is very worried about who's in the crossfire."
Throttle nodded again, able to picture what was happening all too easily. After the war had ended, the other two Martian races were - ironically - in much worse shape than mice. Since they had both been, as the saying went, 'in bed' with the Plutarkians, once the last of the stink-fish were captured, killed, or driven off planet, both their lapdogs and the rats were then dealt with. Taken in and tried for their crimes - which most of them had been executed for. The ones who had escaped into the wilds had fled with very little food and only a handful of weapons.
So it was really no surprise that the two races were fighting with each other - and coming after mice was out of the question. As broken as they had once been, they stood strong now, and while progress was undeniably slow, it was also steady and sure. Someday, they would thrive again.
As for the others...they were starving. Dying out. And with nowhere to go and no one to turn to for aid, the two weakened species turned on each other. Whichever proved to be the weakest could end up stripped of everything they had - maybe even wiped out altogether. The more Throttle thought about it, the more unsettled he felt. This was a situation that could end up getting very, very nasty - for everyone. There was no doubt in his mind that Rimfire was far from the last mouse casualty that would turn up before all this was over.
"So, what's the plan?"
With a frown, Carbine picked up the report again and flipped through a couple of pages. "It hasn't really been decided yet, but I imagine that we'll stay safely out of it. They haven't tried to breach our borders or attack anyone directly, so for now we'll add more guards and tighten patrol."
"And then wait until they do attack us directly?" Throttle asked dryly.
Surprised, Carbine looked up from the folder. Her dark eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me...let me guess. You're going to go grab the others and ride straight to where you don't belong so you can kick the hornet's nest."
Throttle couldn't help flashing a sly grin. "You know me so well."
Groaning quietly, the General squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Throttle..."
She never got to finish whatever stern warning she had been about to give him, because just then a very familiar fuzzy white head poked through the doorway. "Ah, there you are," Vinnie said brightly when he spotted Throttle. "Are you-"
"No," Carbine said sharply.
The white mouse gave her a puzzled frown. "I didn't ask for anything."
"And if you know what's good for you, you won't. I don't care what it is you want, you're not getting it."
With a heavy, long-suffering sigh, Vinnie stepped into the room and folded his arms. "Is this a new routine for all the generals around here?" he wondered. "Stoker just told me the same thing."
"And don't you forget it," the female mouse told him coolly.
She brushed past the two of them and marched out into the hall. "Keep an eye on him," she called back over her shoulder.
Throttle smirked. Vinnie shook his head and clucked his tongue. "Yeesh. You blow up one of the last air crafts the army has left once and they never let you hear the end of it."
He shook his head a moment more, then turned back to Throttle, his expression sly. "I heard what's going on. How soon do we head out and remind these guys who they should and shouldn't screw with?"
"Now seems good," Throttle responded casually.
He wasn't going to ask Modo if he wanted to join them, though. Knowing the big softie, he would probably want to spend the rest of the day hovering around Ashlin. "I'm done here, so..."
Throttle trailed off as his nose twitched. A tantalizingly sweet odor was suddenly flooding his nostrils, and a second later Tamerin appeared in the doorway. She wisely didn't come any closer. "I am never drinking again," she announced tartly.
"Almost didn't make it?" Throttle guessed.
The muscular Imeeran wrinkled her slender nose for a moment, then turned her attention to Vinnie. "You've got that 'I'm thinking about being destructive' look," she noted. "Can I come, too? I could use the workout."
"I don't see why not," said Vinnie, shrugging and smiling.
Throttle didn't see why not either. What he was smelling right now was a different story.
"I think the two of us can handle it by ourselves," he said slowly, his eyes on his mate.
Vinnie gave him a funny look - but then he frowned as it dawned on him. "Oh, yeah. I forgot."
Tamerin bit her lip and glanced away, and Throttle was pretty sure he knew what she was thinking. It was the same thing he was thinking. He'd asked her once, shortly after she came to Mars with him, why she didn't try to find a bike of her own. "Because then I wouldn't be able to ride with you," she had pointed out slyly. "I'd rather sit with my arms wrapped around you than steer."
No argument from him. Since then they had taken dozens of rides together, and she always clung to him tightly...though if they were alone, her hands had a tendency to wander. Something about riding fast as the wind, combined with the heat from the engine, the smell of hot leather, and the firm, steady vibrations rumbling through the seat between their legs and into their bodies, humming along their spines...
It was all very...stimulating.
"I'll ask Jayce if he wants to come, too," Tamerin suddenly suggested, interrupting his thoughts. Which was probably a good thing, because they had been a pit stop behind a sandy hillside away from turning into a full-blown fantasy.
"Good idea," said Throttle, relieved. "You can ride with him."
"Besides," Tamerin went on, "it's not like we're heading into a particularly dangerous situation, right? We're just going to scope things out, maybe scare off a few desert natives who are getting a little too close to mouse territory for their own good..."
"Basically," Throttle agreed.
Neither the rats or the raiders were well armed anymore, so even if they ran into a group or two today, it was highly unlikely that dealing with them would be much of a hassle.
Quietly keeping his distance from his mate, Throttle turned and headed out of the room and down the hall, and Tamerin just as quietly let Vinnie slip between them before taking up the rear. Throttle's mind was already wandering as they headed for the base's exit, thinking about if he should grab something to eat before they took off - and then he saw something that made him stop in his tracks.
It wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Just a male mouse walking briskly through the hallway that crisscrossed in front of them, his head down over a stack of papers in his hands. But it was a sight that caused the strangest tightening in his gut.
Vinnie came up beside him wearing a strange frown, and Throttle knew he must have a seriously weirded out look on his face for Vinnie to notice that something was wrong when his mind had shifted into 'let's go blow shit up' mode. "What is it?" he asked.
Throttle gave his head a small shake. "Nothing."
Just that the last time he saw that particular mouse, whose name was Vice, he was lying on the floor at Throttle's feet with a hole blasted in his chest. Seconds before, Tamerin had shot him after figuring out he was responsible for framing Throttle for theft. Except it hadn't really been Vice. Just a shape-shifter that looked like him.
Behind him, Tamerin said quietly, "I know exactly how you feel."
"Of course you do," Throttle responded, in a weak stab at humor. "You can feel how I feel."
A tremor of emotion came through their bond, making him look over his shoulder at her. She looked pensively down at the floor as she shook her head. "That's not what I meant. Back when the shifters would infiltrate the city...they always copied the shape of someone who was off planet, or scouting the surface, since it was less likely for us to spot the impostor than if the real Imeeran was somewhere in the colony. Then when they got inside, they usually still looked like whoever they were imitating when they started firing. Hundreds were killed looking at the face of one of our own."
She wet her lips, then lifted her eyes and looked at him. "And then the one they were imitating would come home again. And they'd have to deal with people they knew and loved seeing them and remembering the ones they saw die at the hands of something that looked like them, every time that unfortunate person walked by."
Throttle felt a tightening inside him again as he faced her fully, but for a new reason. He was afraid to hear the answer to the question that had just popped into his head, but it came tumbling out anyway. "Never happened to you and anyone you know, did it?"
Tamerin smiled thinly - a bitter smile without any trace of humor. "Deichan, while I was helping out at the hospital once. Because where better to strike than at the wounded, and with the body of the one they trust the most to take care of them?"
Throttle groaned inwardly; why did he have to ask? "How the hell did you get over something like that?" he asked, cringing at the thought.
"I had to. She's my best friend."
That was so messed up he couldn't even picture it. The image of that angel-voiced, fairy-sized doctor opening fire on her beloved patients? It was like Modo blowing up an orphanage. If Tamerin had to witness something like that, then he could damn well get over this. In fact, he was pretty sure he had already forgotten all about it. The weirdness he'd just felt seemed trivial and pointless now.
She was putting on a brave face, but his mate couldn't hide the fact that talking about the casualties of her planet's recently ended war had stirred up painful memories. The urge to reach over and comfort her was strong - but so was the odor on her skin, and he forced himself to keep his hands at his sides.
Vinnie, who had been watching them and fidgeting uncomfortably, suddenly flashed a crooked grin. "Want me to hug her for you?"
"Please."
Tamerin let out a laugh as her playful white 'bro' yanked her into a bear-hug, rocking from side to side so hard they both almost fell over. "Now come on," Throttle said firmly, "let's get out there and blow shit up already."
After leaving the base, Modo headed straight home. He was lost in thought and didn't really see the buildings or rows of carefully tended gardens he rode by along the way. On his way out of the base, he had bumped into Stoker (who had been in the middle of chewing out Vinnie over the incident with the spaceship they had borrowed to visit Earth a while back) and the aging General had filled him in on the current situation. Modo only hoped that things didn't get any more out of hand, but he wasn't going to hold his breath.
It was tempting to take a ride out into the desert and scope things out for himself - later. Right now, he just wanted to get home and be with Ashlin. The more he thought about last night, the more steamed he got. It was all so unimportant. Ashlin's roots didn't make any difference what kind of person she was. Even if she looked more like a rat than a mouse, it wouldn't change who she was inside. And he would still love her just the same...though it might have taken him a little longer to get used to her.
Thinking about it now made him start to wonder about a couple of things. He'd never thought about it before, but if someone with rat's blood in them could turn out like Ashlin, then maybe every last one of them wasn't completely evil, like everyone believed. And maybe, strange as the thought was, his own overall view of them had softened because of his love for her. Just a tiny bit.
It was a silent curiosity that was unexpectedly answered mere moments later. As he rounded a curve, the entrance to his home came into view - and an unmistakable shape was crouched outside it.
The sight triggered a burst of familiar emotions. A tightening in his gut. A flicker of anger. A touch of revulsion. No, there was definitely no softening in how he saw a full-blooded rat - especially a full-blooded rat that was sniffing around outside of his own home.
Gritting his teeth, Modo bore down on the accelerator, but the slinking figure had spotted him. By the time he pulled up by the door, it was gone. Modo scanned the area, looking around at the quiet afternoon as he dismounted, and shook his head in disbelief. If he hadn't seen it with his own eye, he would never believe it.
The small home he shared with Ashlin was carved through a massive hill of hard stone and soil. It was so big that many other mouse homes wove through it, and businesses and thriving gardens circled around the hill itself. There were other cave dwellings, but the one Modo lived in was right in the middle of the residential district. How on Mars did a rat sneak this deep into mouse territory without anyone noticing?
He'd figure that part out later. Right now he was anxious to make sure his family was safe, and he hurried for the door - which he discovered with relief was firmly locked. After punching the code into the keypad, Modo hurried inside.
Everything was quiet. It felt strange - hollow, like the place was empty. Modo darted through the living room and down the hall, ears straining for sound - any sound. "Ash?"
No one answered, though his own voice seemed to hang heavily in the air after he spoke. The door to Ashlin's room stood open and he started to look inside - and then his gaze fell on something tacked to the wall, just outside his own room.
It was a note, and it read, 'Got lonely, so I took Ako and went to see your mother. Love you.'
Awash with relief, Modo hurried back outside. It was a short distance to his mama's, so instead of riding he walked and was soon ringing the buzzer at his mama's door. The petite gray mouse herself invited him inside - tugged him inside, to be exact, her face beaming and her hands covered with flour. "Come on," she ordered, "we're making cookies."
Chuckling, Modo followed her to the kitchen, where Ashlin was busy stirring a bowl full of sticky batter, while Ako was perched on a counter licking a wooden spoon. Modo went over, rested his hands on the slender Martian's shoulders and kissed her forehead. Ashlin looked up from her work with a sheepish smile. "I know you sort of told me to stay put, but..."
"It's okay," Modo told her quickly.
He thought briefly about telling her what he had just seen before he decided not to mention it. No point in worrying her when there was probably nothing to worry about. No rat was crazy enough to deliberately cross mouse borders right now, especially alone, so the figure he had seen had probably fled from a raider attack and was looking for someplace to hide. He'd report what he had seen later, but he doubted there was any reason why a rat would suddenly show up outside their home beyond it being a huge coincidence.
Smiling softly, he brushed his hand across Ashlin's cheek. "Everything's okay. As long as you're safe."
