Disclaimer - I don't own any of the characters from Biker Mice from Mars! Any characters and situations herein are purely fictitious, and any similarity between those and persons living or dead is coincidental :)

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


Chapter 31 – Skirmish

The dull thud of a body hitting the dirt tore through all those present. Throttle screamed with rage, throwing himself forward at the impostor. Modo and Vinnie exchanged angry glances before shadowing their leader on either flank. None of them stopped to look who'd fallen; they were too used to seeing comrades die on Mars.

"Carbine!" Stoker fell to his knees. With a choked gasp Freda let out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding.

"Shit! Carbine! Why? Why would you do that?" Freda dropped to the Martian General's side.

"Kinda owe you this much... After everything you've done..." Carbine managed a weak smile, blood dribbling from her mouth.

"Help me get her inside!" Freda ordered. Primer and Stoker paused, torn between avenging Carbine and fighting to save her.

"Forget it! Go! Help them!" Hugh swung Carbine up in his arms. "We'll take care of her!"

Stoker let out a feral roar launching himself into the fight. Whoever the impostor was, he wasn't alone and his companions were well armed for the fight ahead. Throttle was already fighting tooth and claw with the impostor. Modo and Vinnie had pinned down the goons on the right flank. Stoker led Primer straight into the left flank.

"You filthy Plutarkian scum!" Stoker thrashed left and right, hitting, shooting, kicking at anything that moved, anything to get out of the fight alive. Primer watched in awe as enemy after enemy fell to Stoker's rage.

Throttle had no other weapon than the nuke-knuks Harley had given him years before. Still, he piled blow after blow into the impostor, narrowly avoiding blasts from the gun the guy still wielded. With a grunt Throttle pounced one final time, wrestling for possession of the gun. With the last of the goons taken care of, there was an audible cry from the mice as the gun went off and both combatants slumped.

"Throttle?" Modo called, his voice laced with fear. The silence stretched just a little too long as they raced over. A groan and slow movement greeted them as they reached Throttle and the impostor. Kicking his legs, Throttle pulled himself from under the impostor. He looked dazed.

"Who... Who got hit?" Throttle whispered as he struggled to his feet. The bro's frowned as Stoker shook his head, horror and grief plain on his face.

"It was... the General..." Primer's flat tone resonated with all of them.

"Carbine?!" Throttle's startled cry dragged all of them back to reality. "How? He was aiming at Freda!"

"Oh Momma..." Modo sighed, looking at Vinnie and Primer as Throttle bounded off in the direction of the house, Stoker hot on his heels.

"Bro... I wanna know what happened..." Vinnie shuffled his feet. "But at the same time I don't."

"Yeah... I know what yer sayin'." Modo sniffed as he forced himself to follow their bro and the General.

They caught up to Throttle and Stoker outside the kitchen; both mice hesitating by the door.

"Come on... We've gotta face this some time." Stoker gritted his teeth and strode into the kitchen. Blood coated the floor and one of the tables, but there was no one in sight. Throttle let out a strangled gasp.

"Where are they?"

"Upstairs. We're upstairs, Throttle." Charley paused in the kitchen door, a bowl clasped in her hand. The mice piled up the stairs after Charlie, who had refilled the bowl with a hot salt solution. Reaching Carbine's room, they tiptoed through the door. Carbine lay on the bed, too still and looking deathly pale under her fur. The wound in her chest had been neatly closed, presumably by Freda. Charley set the bowl of steaming water down.

"What now?" The mechanic whispered.

"Clean up as best we can, and pray." Freda straightened her back with a groan. "I wish I hadn't said what I did to her..."

"You weren't to know this would happen, but let it be a lesson to guard your tongue a little more closely..." Momma smiled. "As for the General, you have treated her wounds as best you can, Rimfire survived thanks to you even after his wounds had begun to fester. Carbine has the best chance you can give her."

"Freda..." Stoker locked desperate eyes on the human female. "Did you have an anaesthetic?"

"No... Such things aren't readily available to non-medical personnel on earth." Freda sighed as she finished cleaning round the wound. "She'd lost consciousness before we even got back in the house – shock, I think. Blood loss and pain as well; it's one hell of a wound."

"Where's Rimfire?" Modo's frantic question hung heavy in the air.

"Back in his room, with Alec keeping him company..." Freda sighed. "They're both ok, barring a few minor cuts that Alec should have patched up by now..."

"Found some extra blankets..." Hugh swung into the room. "Oh... hullo. Fight over already?"

"Yeah..." Throttle grunted. "They're dead – including the guy we thought was Kai."

"What was he?" Freda frowned picking up a dressing. "Because the impersonation was almost flawless, he even had Hugh and I fooled!"

"I'd say he's one of Karbunkle's creations..." Stoker sighed, running a hand over his face and neck. "But we'll never know for sure."

"Then the real question remains..." Freda looked up from where she was bandaging Carbine's wound. "Where is Kai?"


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