Chapter Three
Over the next week, the Mice spent their days assisting in rooting out the last few tiny units of Plutarkians. The evenings were spent in the Warehouse with Charlie, trading battle stories and catching up on old friends. It hadn't been hard to settle in; as opposed to the last time the Mice were on Earth, Martians were now seen as friends and allies.
Charlie finished polishing away a scratch on Baby Doll's side and patted her. "There you go, sweetie. Good as new." She looked over to the Mice, who were in the process of similar cleanup jobs. The Garage was unusually empty; aside from Charlie and the trio, only a small group of Fighters was visible, sitting near the entrance. "Guys, I'm going to take a little walk. Need some fresh air." Baby Doll rumbled and turned her handlebars toward her, and Charlie laughed. "No offense, Baby, but I'm going to use my own two legs this time." She grabbed her jacket and headed out the garage door.
"You want some company, Sweetheart? Maybe it's just all the fish your people've been fightin', but this place reeks," Vinnie called, but she smiled and shook her head as she disappeared around the corner.
The group of Fighters left their spot outside and walked off, probably to find something more entertaining for their free time.
Throttle suddenly found himself the object of very close scrutiny from his bros. He ignored it, concentrating on his bike.
Finally, several minutes later, the other two became tired of waiting. "So, what's the score, Fearless Leader?" Vinnie quipped.
Throttle sighed loudly and threw the rag he'd been wiping his hands on against the wall. "Throttle: zip, Charlie-girl: so far in the lead I'll never catch up." He slumped down against his bike and looked bleakly up at the other two. "I'm starting to think this is hopeless."
"Nah. You just need a few tips on women. And the Velocity Atrocity is just the one to help you."
Modo elbowed Vinnie in the gut. "For ten minutes, Bro, try not to act as dumb as you look." Ignoring the smaller Mouse's outraged "Hey!", he straddled his bike and rested folded arms on the handlebars. "That bad, huh?"
Throttle removed his field specs and rubbed his eyes wearily. "I can't get her alone for a minute. How the hell am I s'pposed to apologize and figure out what's buggin' Charlie if she won't let me talk to her? She hates me, bros, I know it." The golden-furred Mouse stared off blankly into space, remembering the kiss they had shared before he'd left. That hadn't been sheer lust on Charlie's part. There had been something far deeper.
"Yo, earth to Throttle." Vinnie waved a hand in front of his face. "All jokin' aside, ya want I should talk to her? Most of the time, Charlie-girl doesn't take me seriously anyway, so she might let somethin' slip."
"I must be crazy, but I'm almost willin' to give that a try. Do ya think-" Throttle was cut off as Baby Doll suddenly roared to life and swerved into their midst. "Whoa, Baby, what's wrong?"
The bike shuddered, and rolled toward the entrance.
"D'ya think somethin's wrong with Charlie?"
Throttle's mind jumped back to back to the five Fighters who had left soon after the human woman. His battle-honed mind analyzed the picture, trying to figure out why it was bothering him…
They had been loitering in the entranceway, talking quietly amongst themselves. Their hair all shared a similar cut popular among the newer recruits. Uniforms all sharp and crisp, colors bright, obviously new…
…Mingling with the usual scents of grease and oil had been an all-too-familiar smell of rotting fish…
That was it! They weren't fighters at all!
He jumped to his feet and grabbed his bike, jamming his field specs back on his head. "Charlie's in trouble! Those Fighters were Plutarkians in disguise!"
Modo and Vinnie mounted up, identical expressions of nerves and anger on their faces. "Think you can lead us to her through your bond, Baby Doll?" When the bike honked an affirmative, Vinnie grinned nastily. "If those damn fish-faces think they can hurt our Charlie-girl, they have another thing comin' to 'em! Let's go!"
They roared off, quickly following as Charlie's bike led them down several short streets into an abandoned section of town.
Throttle's sensitive ears picked up sounds of a nearby fight. "We're close!" Turning a corner, the three were confronted with the sight of Charlie facing off against three Plutarkians. The blue-green aliens had ditched their facemasks, probably as soon as they'd jumped Charlie. Two goons lying unconscious on the ground lent evidence to the woman's fighting prowess.
Charlie turned her head and glanced to her right at the sound of the bikes. Throttle could see the mingled annoyance and relief in her eyes.
One of the assailants still standing took advantage of her lack of attention and lashed out. He landed a solid punch to her chest, but Charlie grabbed the arm and twisted. The Plutarkian screamed in pain as his wrist snapped, but his cry was cut off by a swift kick to the gut. Charlie followed up with a round house to his neck, then grabbed the injured arm again and swung her unfortunate opponent into one of the others. The two flew into a wall, knocking themselves unconscious.
Facing the angry woman (and three very dangerous-looking Mice), the remaining alien took to his heels and was quickly out of sight.
Brushing past the speechless Bikers, Charlie pressed a button on one of Baby Doll's grips. After calling for a clean-up crew to take care of the unconscious Plutarkians, she placed her hands on her hips and glared. "Coming to save the helpless little woman, huh?"
Modo swallowed. "Well, we thought we were. Where'd you learn ta fight like that, Charlie-ma'am?"
Charlie crossed her arms. "Did you really think I'd wind up head of the Earth Resistance Forces if I didn't know how to fight? Jeeze, guys! Give me a little credit!"
Throttle caught of some movement out of the corner of his eye. One of the thugs had regained consciousness, and was struggling to aim a laser. "Charlie, down!" He didn't stop to think, but threw himself in front of the redhead. There was a bzzz, and something hit his side. Beside him, Modo raised his arm cannon with a growl and fired. He didn't miss.
"Throttle?" Charlie knelt beside him as he clutched his side. "Throttle, where're you hit?"
He grunted and removed the hand he'd clamped over his side. She glanced down at the wound and gasped in relief. "Just a flesh wound. You're okay."
"Ya know, you used to be a lot more worried when we got hurt," he muttered as he pushed himself up and lurched toward his bike. "Stings like a bitch."
"Wait until you feel the antiseptic I pour on it," she returned. "I've got medical supplies back at the Garage. Let's go get you patched up."
* * *
An hour later, Charlie placed the short-wave transmitter back on her desk and looked over to where the Mice sat. Throttle was pulling on another sleeveless jacket, and complaining because the other had been ruined. "Damn it, it takes forever to get good leather broken in. Oughta take it out of the bastard's hide." Once on, it hid the bandages she herself had taped on.
"You should be glad it was the jacket that died, and not you," she said. "I just finished talking to the crew. That little group was really desperate to attack me in broad daylight like that. It's getting really hard for the fish-faces to get their hands on contraband like that nasty laser."
"Desperate for what?" Modo studied Charlie in a way that made her want to squirm. "The Plutarkians aren't stupid enough to just throw men and weapons away like that. Why d' they want you so badly?"
Charlie looked out the window. "I'm the Freedom Fighter Commander. Doesn't take too much thinking to figure out how much they must hate me."
"Uh huh." Modo looked skeptical, but put the issue aside for one that interested him more at the moment. "Charlie-ma'am, I gotta say, I've never seen a human-bike bond like yours and Baby Doll's. In fact, I don't think I've ever seen one at all. I mean, she led us to ya like nothin' I've seen. Where'd you get her?"
Charlie sat on the edge of the desk and bit her lip. She was silent for a few minutes, thinking. "There was a prison camp on the dark side of the moon, and we went there on a mission. One of the prisoners helping us was a Mouse named Gunner. The Plutarkians were doing some type of… experiments with him and his bike. Awful stuff. There was an unexpected complication, and I almost got killed. Gunner got to me, with Baby Doll. He…" She took a deep breath, let it out again. "He saved my life, sent me out on Baby Doll. By the time I regained consciousness and tried to get to him, he was dead."
Her voice had dropped to a faint whisper. "I didn't know what to do with Baby Doll, but I brought her back here and fixed her up. She decided to stay with me."
"Charlie-girl." Throttle watched her intently. "How'd you get to this prison camp in the first place, and how'd you recruit Gunner? You gotta remember, we were in one of those hellholes. There's no way in or out."
Charlie paced across the floor. "Yeah, well, I guess this one was just a lot more lax then the one you were in. We liberated a few space-worthy flyers from Limburger –he was still here at that point- and made it up using codes we'd stolen from his computers."
"Say," Vinnie straightened. "What ever happened to old Bucket-head anyway?"
Charlie didn't meet their eyes. "He was killed."
"How?" Throttle glanced over at Modo, who closed the door. "C'mon, Charlie-girl, he was our main enemy the entire time we were here. Ya can't blame us for wanting a little more info then that."
"Why's it matter? He's dead."
"It matters to us," Modo said. "Don't look away like that. We wanna know. If you don't tell us, we'll just ask McCyber or one of the other Fighters down at the Warehouse."
"Fine!" Her head came up, and she glared at the Mice. "I killed him! I was five feet away; I aimed a gun at his head and pulled the trigger. Limburger's pathetic excuse of a brain was blown all over the back wall of his big fancy office. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat."
"Wow, Charlie-girl." Vinnie's eyes were huge.
"You three muscle-bound idiots can't seem to get it into your head that I'm not the weak little thing you left behind. I'm strong now, and I do what's necessary during a battle. Okay?"
Beside her, Modo stretched out his real arm and laid it gently on her shoulder. "Good for you, Charlie-ma'am. I just wish you could-a gotten it on tape."
"Well, now that that's outta the way, how 'bout some dinner? I'm starved!"
Charlie grinned. It was weak, but it was a genuine attempt at a smile. Typical Vinnie, to smooth over ruffled edges with the subtlety of a Mack truck. "You guys go on ahead. I'll be down in a sec."
When the Mice were gone, she leaned against the window frame and whispered, "So, what would you have said if I'd told you the truth?"
* * *