Charley shivered and pulled her coat tighter around her. A chill wind whistled through the gaping holes in the masonry walls. The boys were busy setting up the remote transporter in the middle of the rubble-strewn floor. Rimfire, off the crutches but still limping badly, was tuning the transmitter on the satellite.
Charley looked around her and a lump rose in her throat. Only three years ago this had been a bustling department store. Now the remaining walls were held up by scaffolding and piles of rubble lay between the few forlorn and abandoned service desks. Ragged plastic sheets flapped in the wind. It was a perfect example of how Plutark worked; take over the company, demolish the building and send the rubble to Plutark. It worked so well that some areas of Chicago were nothing more than gaping holes and skeletal buildings. She shivered. And without the Biker Mice, this entire area would probably have gone the same way. They were hanging on, but only just.
"Charley."
She turned and saw Stoker walking towards her. He took her arm and steered her to the left.
"You're making me nervous, standing there. I don't want this thing to go off and send you to Limburger's collecting bin."
Charley smiled up at him. "Neither do I." She felt his hand slide down her arm and slip around her waist. "How long do you think it will be before they get your message?"
"It shouldn't be long. We have patrols out now, in captured Plutarkian ships."
Charley wrinkled her nose. "Ugh! I feel sorry for them."
Stoker laughed. "They call it…I don't know how to say it in English. The place where you go when you die."
"Hell? No, purgatory. Extended punishment."
"Something like that. You should hear them complain when they get a call up."
"Have you ever gone out on a captured ship?"
"Oh yes, once. Hated every minute of it. Everything I ate for days afterwards stank of Plutarkian. I lost a heap of weight."
"Maybe I should go on one of these ships. I could do with a miracle diet."
Stoker ran his eyes down her body and she blushed. "You definitely don't need it. There'd be nothing of you left." He squeezed her waist.
"Are you happy to be going home?" she blurted out.
Stoker blinked. "Well, I-"
"Hey coach, hold this for me." Rimfire hobbled over to them and shoved the satellite at Stoker. He pulled out some wires and started untangling them.
"Rimfire! What have you done to my transmitter?" said Charley.
"Nothing much. I had to alter the transistor current, that's all, and the wires got a little tangled."
Charley took the satellite from Stoker and helped Rimfire to rearrange the wiring. Once the wires were neatly tucked away, she closed the access plate and screwed it back in. Rimfire keyed the transmitter on and the red transmission light came to life.
"All go, guys!" said Rimfire.
"Look out!" shouted Throttle.
Charley jumped and looked around. The wall behind them was glowing red. Stoker grabbed her and dived to the side. She landed on him and lost her breath. The glowing wall collapsed into a pile of slag. Large, grey figures pushed through the opening. Stoker pushed her off his chest and shoved her behind a pile of rubble.
"Stay down! Rimfire, protect Charley!"
"Right!" Rimfire threw himself down at her side and drew his blaster. Charley saw Stoker duck and bolt as the soldiers opened fire. Rimfire put a hand on her back and pushed her down as bolts of energy screamed over their heads. She lost sight of the battlefield and prayed that the mice would be all right.
Stoker ducked and turned, trying to avoid the laser fire from the bio-soldiers. Throttle and Modo opened fire across the room and gave him enough of a respite to make it behind a half-collapsed wall. He drew his blaster and checked the charge, then leaned around the edge of the wall to study the battlefield.
Rimfire and Charley were flat behind their pile of rubble and a bio-solider was laying heavy covering fire. Throttle, Modo and Vinnie were behind cover and firing from three positions. Stoker counted eight bio-soldiers. A full squad then, which meant there would be a sergeant somewhere. Take him out and they would have a better chance. He ducked back as more fire came his way, then peered around the corner as it eased. He fired at the bio-soldier's position, wondering how they could force them back, when he saw one of them cease fire and duck back through the door into the alleyway.
He slipped back behind the wall and bolted towards the rear of the building. He slowed and eased closer to one of the glassless windows. The alleyway between the ruined buildings was dim and smelled musty and metallic. He listened carefully for movement, but heard nothing. He was about to lean forward to look out of the window when he heard the faintest clink of stone on metal. He eased back and slipped to the next window to wait. A minute, two minutes passed and then he saw a shadow on the far wall. He raised his blaster and waited. The shadow advanced another step, and then began to retreat. Stoker leaned slightly forward, ready to fire into the alleyway.
Something grabbed him and he was dragged out of the window. He lashed out and connected with solid flesh before he was dumped on the floor. A boot landed on his ribs and he rolled with it. He managed to get his feet underneath him and pushed into a crouching position. A shadow fell on him and he looked up into the sergeant's face.
"Stoker. How nice to see you again."
He dived sideways as the sergeant fired and grabbed for his gun, but his holster was empty.
"Looking for this?"
The sergeant grinned, and kicked Stoker's gun across the alleyway. He levelled his gun on Stoker's chest.
"Dead or alive, Stoker. I'm fine with either."
Stoker snorted, and glanced around the alleyway. "Don't you get sick of all the clichéd bad-guy talk?" He heard a sound behind him and whirled around. A solid fist connected with his jaw and he staggered and fell.
"No," said the sergeant.
Stoker struggled to his feet but the soldier was quicker and wrapped thick arms around his chest, lifting him off the ground. Stoker kicked out instinctively but the blow was ineffectual. The leader stepped up and snapped force-cuffs on Stoker's wrists. Stoker snarled at him.
"Save it for your execution, Stoker." He pulled back and smashed his fist into Stoker's guts.
The soldier dropped him and Stoker lay on the ground and wheezed.
"Get him into the transport and then come and help with the rest of them. A force bomb should finish them off."
"Yes, commander."
Stoker moved his head and watched the leader move back down the alleyway until he rounded the corner.
The soldier reached down and removed Stoker's knife, tucking it into his own belt. He grabbed Stoker by the scruff and hauled him upright. "Move, you!"
Stoker staggered along in front of the soldier until his eyes fell on some concrete, that, falling from a great height, had shattered. He stumbled and fell across the rubble. He moved his hands beneath him and grabbed a chunk of concrete.
The soldier growled and kicked him. "Get up!"
Stoker got up, all in one fluid movement, and slammed the lump of concrete into the side of the soldier's head. The soldier roared in pain and staggered back. Stoker pressed his advantage and slammed the concrete into the Plutarkian's face. The soldier dropped to the ground. Stoker dived on top of him and grabbed for his knife as the soldier fumbled for his gun. The knife came free and he twisted, his cuffed hands making it awkward to hold. He rammed the knife up to the hilt in the soldier's body and rolled away.
He leapt to his feet but the soldier only twitched once, then lay still. Stoker leaned down and grabbed the keys to his cuffs. He released them and they fell across the limp body of the soldier.
He whirled as he heard a clatter from down the alley and threw himself flat behind some rubble. Then he swore silently for not grabbing the gun first. The sound of boots approached, then the boots broke into a run. He heard a curse from the direction of the soldier's body. He risked a quick glance and then attacked.
He had one brief glance of the leader's startled face before he crashed into him. For every punch he landed, the leader landed one, harder and heavier. He felt himself weakening. He moved in close as the leader stepped back, ready to drive a fist into the Plutarkian's ribs. His blow landed but too late he realised he had been tricked as the thick arms wrapped around him and began to crush the air from his lungs.
Stoker struggled and rolled his head back, desperately seeking a purchase from which to push. He saw an opening and struck, sinking his teeth deep into the leader's throat. His mouth filled with foul-tasting blood and he gagged. He clenched his jaw and drove his teeth in deeper. The leader howled in pain, staggered and fell. Stoker went down with him, grunting as the heavy weight drove the breath out of him. He felt the hold on his wrists weakening and he struggled to pull his arms free. He tore one arm free and grabbed at his belt. His hands found nothing; his knife was buried in his previous assailant's chest. The blood was running down his throat and filling his nose and he choked.
Go down, you bastard, go down! The soldier used his free arm to rain heavy blows into Stoker's ribs. Stoker hung on grimly. Slowly the blows weakened but he could no longer breathe. The bio-soldier's weight pressed down on him. He gathered his strength, clenched his jaw and tore his teeth out of the bio-soldier's neck. A flood of black blood covered him. He struggled to free himself, blinded by blood. Finally he was free of the dead weight of the soldier and he crawled away.
He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and lurched to his feet. Through a film of blood he saw the bio-soldier twitch and he launched himself onto the prone body, raining blows on his face. It took long moments before he realised the soldier was no longer moving and he pushed back, blinking his streaming eyes. The soldier lay flaccid, eyes staring at nothing. Stoker pushed himself to his feet, staggered to the wall and threw up. He wiped the bile and blood from his mouth and leaned on the wall for a moment. He pushed himself off and went back to the other body to retrieve his knife and the dead soldier's gun.
As he approached the door to the building, he slowed and raised his gun. The next moment two bodies flew through the door. The tan one was easily recognisable and Stoker moved forward. As the green face of the bio-soldier came into view, Stoker smashed his fist down. The soldier jerked and Throttle pushed him off, struggled to his feet and finished him. Panting, he leaned on his knees for a moment then looked up at Stoker.
He looked startled, then grinned. "Going for a little facial remodelling there, Coach?"
"Yeah. I thought the raw steak look was good this season. What's the fight like?"
"We're holding. Let's go!"
Stoker ran through the door after Throttle. Modo and Vinnie were contending with five well-armed soldiers. Rimfire and Charley were still behind the pile of rubble. Stoker released them with a single shot at the soldier who had them pinned. Rimfire dashed out immediately and began firing at the remaining soldiers.
But the Plutarkians were better trained than that and they quickly retreated into a secure position. Stoker cursed. The longer the fight went on, the more chance of injury, or death. To his horror, he saw Charley dash across the battlefield. At the same time, Rimfire fell and a soldier raised his weapon to fire.
Timed slowed as the adrenalin kicked in. He saw Throttle drop to one knee and aim for the soldier who had Rimfire pinned. Charley shrieked his name and he saw the satellite arc though the air towards the soldiers. Comprehension dawned and he dived for the transporter. As the satellite fell, he pressed the button on the transporter.
"Bye," said Stoker, as the blue light from the remote transporter engulfed the four bio-soldiers and they, the satellite and a large chunk of wall and scaffolding disappeared from sight. Stoker got to his feet and walked over to Rimfire.
Rimfire pushed himself up and glared at Stoker. "Do you think you could cut it a little closer next time?" he said in a peeved tone.
"I'll do my best," said Stoker, giving Rimfire a hand up. "I'm always willing to please." The scaffolding around them creaked. "I think it's time we left."
"Good idea," said Rimfire.
The five mice and Charley bolted from the building and it collapsed behind them in a cloud of dust and concrete shards. Throttle looked at the pile of rubble.
"Remind me to try that on Limburger Tower sometime."