Hey you guys!

Thanks for the reviews!

So, this chapter came pretty quickly as I'd written the majority of it already when I uploaded the last chapter here...

So, at the end of the last chapter I promised there will be more mice and astronauts here, BUT since this chapter was already becoming quite long... I decided that we'll be concentrating on the Martians more in this chapter and in the next chapter it'll be all about the astronauts, the Earthlings, so... Sorry about that. But I don't want to rush here, just slowly build the storyline. But, the next chapter will only be about the astronauts, I swear, as I'm also very eager to write about them and their first morning on Mars...

But before that, it's still night time and the guys were cruising across the desert in the chapter two, so now they'll be back in the Headquarters and we'll meet more familiar Fighters.

Enjoy!

-SpaceFlora

The Story of Rebellion and Hope

3.

A remote monastery was situated on a high hilltop, looking out on the vast desert around it. It was an old stone building, the colour of dirty white, the walls aged with the extreme weather conditions it had had to encounter through-out the years but that was not to be seen anymore since the monastery along with its' surroundings had already been swallowed by the sandstorm which was still rampaging like a child having a tantrum, covering the already dark night with its' heavy whirling curtains of sand and dust.

The winds howled and whined around the area but what pierced this loud cacophonia of loud sounds was the roaring of the three bikes getting nearer the hill and finally, when arriving at the bottom of the hill, the three bikes dashed up the steeper hillside, the red racer still in the lead and as he got closer the monastery a door mimicking a big stone opened up just below the building, letting the mouse inside the cave turned into a spacious garage where were around sixty bikes parked side by side in many rows. Vinnie gave his racer some gas as he entered the cave, a final moment to experience a rush before the bike made a quick slide and turn, right in-between two bikes, it fit there like a glove the driver mused after the elaborate parking tactic got executed with A+ manner.

He pulled off his red helmet that was covered with fine red sand and while moving the helmet it dropped a pile of sand onto his lap and he made a swift gesture to wipe it off before shaking his whole upper body, to get rid of the dust that covered his usually white short fur. The dust puffed into the air and slowly started to float towards the cold stone floor. He stopped his actions as he saw the other two bikers entering the garage with much more slower pace and they took more time to park their bikes, backing them to their places, carefully guiding with their biker boots touching the ground.

"Hey, slow-joes! What took ya guys so long?" Vinnie asked innocently while a thin cloud of sand still hovered around him and the teeny tiny particles were glimmering in the artifical light coming from the light tubes installed into the ceiling as there were no windows, it was a cave and a hideout after all.

Modo quietly took his blue and grey helmet off and shook his head and big ears, releasing dust into the air also, before he grabbed the hem of his sleeveless camo shirt and tried to use that to wipe his face and eyes clean which was no use since the clothes were covered with a thick layer of sand as well. The big male let out a sigh and stopped the useless attempt to get clean, dropping his hands back to his lap. The dust would be stuck in the fur for days now and not least for the fact that due to the lack of water on Mars, the Martians didn't actually use showers to get clean.

Vinnie was watching his two comrades while casually hunching on his bike, his arms which were relatively muscular despite his still young age, crossed over the bike's windshield, his other foot tapping against the stone floor. His always attentive eyes followed his two comrades' every movement while they were trying to get even some of the sand and dirt off them, their whole demeanour now oozing fatigueness. Vinnie's tail lazyly swept the floor as his mouth now turned into a smirk.

"Luckily the Fighters have me since the battles would be over and wrapped until you two showed up...!"

Throttle had taken off his fieldspecs and was now rubbing his eyes and face, trying to get rid of the small gritty particles that clung to his fur and to his longer hair but now glanced at Vinnie's direction, sitting on his bike a little further away, not really in the mood for hearing jokes or anything else for that matter. He knew the kid was only joking around but Throttle was also getting real tired as he had not been sleeping for a long time now and when he was tired his always calm nature threatened to break a bit. Even he had his limits. But he still remained quiet. Still not allowing himself to get provoked so he only turned to his task again, and started to wipe the specs clean.

Vinnie's tail flickered in a little agitation as he didn't seem to get any attention around here and he shook his head, now turning his look away from his two comrades.

"Man, someone call the homicide unit since ya two are seriously killin' the mood here..." He muttered while burying his chin behind his arms while leaning against the windshield of the red racer.

His ears twitched though as he heard a deep guffaw coming from the big grey male's direction and as he glanced at Modo he saw the big male chuckling while wiping dust off Lil'Hoss with a clean towel he had grabbed from near-by, apparently appreciating this stupid but still funny remark and he gave the young Fighter a brief glance back, his red eyes sparkling with laughter. Maybe the joke was bad but then again, Modo was tired also and the quality of the jokes maybe didn't have to be too good at this point, if ever, to make him laugh.

Throttle on the other hand didn't hear or didn't care about the joke as he got up from his bike and was already heading towards the short tunnel which lead to the other facilities inside the Headquarters. Even if the mission had been a succesful one, it had also taken him a good amount of energy, mainly because he had to be the one to hold the reins, he was the one responsible of the whole mission, he was the one who was to report back on Stoker, he was the one who would get his ass kicked if anything failed. Man, it sometimes was hard to be the brains of the team... But obviously the roles of the muscle and the entertainment were already taken.

"I'll go to give Stoker a briefing about our mission." He mumbled and left the other two still sit on their bikes looking after this fleeting figure.

"Who yanked his tail?" Vinnie asked while his black biker boot was still tapping the ground as he was a restless creature by nature and some part of his body was always in motion.

Modo looked after where Throttle had disappeared before he let out a deep sigh.

"Well, we're all tired..."

"I'm not."

"Yeah, I know, you're special." Modo gave a small chuckle before he got up from his bike, his mood now slightly better even if his whole body still ached for some rest. He was to walk after Throttle but stopped and scratched the neck while contemplating something, changing weight to the other foot. He then turned to give Vinnie a look.

"So, we have usually this tradition with a few buddies here that after the missions and battles we play some pool... But the lads are not coming from their mission until tomorrow...So, Ah was thinkin' that maybe ya wanna play a round?"

Modo noticed the young male to shoot him a little confused look before it got swept away by the arrogance again and he got up from his red racer.

"Sure, I mean, whatever..."

"Have ya played pool before?"

"No, but how hard can it be if you can do it too..." Vinnie shrugged his shoulders with a care-free attitude while walking past Modo, disappearing into the tunnel as the grey giant only rolled his eyes and followed him, regretting that he'd ever asked.

x

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The scent down here inside this cave turned into the Headquarters of the Martian Resistance was a bit stuffy and it was a mix of sweat and bike oil. There was also a hint of the sweet fragrance of the insence, a remnant of the worships the monks habitating the monastery just above the Headquarters had used during the day and it had slowly spirraled down, through the old wooden floorboards, into this cave full of Freedom Fighters.

This was the place where the Fighters could catch up with their greatly neclegted sleep rhythms and patch up their wounds and prepair their bikes, eat well and just chill, without constantly having to be in an alerted state. No one talked about it in the base but they all had noticed how week after week, month after month, it took them more and more time to get their bodies to relax, to fall asleep and many times they were unable to really connect to that deeper level of sleep anymore. They all had gotten accustomed to this new normal which was to suffer from sleep deprivation, hunger and constant aches and even injuries all over their bodies. That was the life of a soldier. Mars was in war and the war was bound to leave marks on each of them, on their bodies as well as on their minds.

The main hall was brightly lit. All the walls were covered with different types of monitors and screens and boxes piled up against the walls, containing all kinds of miscellanious like new guns, ammos, food tins and preserves, clothes and bike parts. In the deeper part of the cave there were a few long tables and benches and what remained unseen from the eyes while scanning this big hall were the two smaller dorms, containing only bunk beds side by side and they were connected to the main hall with a tunnel. It was not really a cozy of a place but a practical one. They usually didn't even spend too much time in here but when they did, it was usually the time to chill and party.

The music blasted from the radio, turned to Radio Free Mars, a radio station which broadcasted the loudest music from the planet Earth, hard rock and heavy metal. The music was loud but so was this big raucous bunch of rebels. There were Fighters wrestling on the ground, crashing against the long tables and benches before ending up rolling on the floors and occasionally there would be pints flying and one nearly hit Throttle as he tiredly walked through the big hall but he docked down just in time before the pint would've hit him right on his head.

His eyes were searching for someone in this big rowdy crowd of slightly tipsy rebel soldiers, his eyes that were still covered with the green and black field specs. What can he say, he loved those specs.

Throttle continued his walk ignoring most of what was going on around him, absent-mindedly yet carefully rubbing his two long red antenna as they tended to get a bit sore after been crammed inside the bike helmet and they made a humming noise as he touched them softly, the two protruding appendages slightly pulsating between his fingers as the blood circulated inside them with much more pressure than in anywhere else in their bodies.

He finally spotted the one he was looking for and walked towards one of the long tables where there sat a few Fighters and at the end of the table there sat an older raggety looking hazle brown male, with his long hair tightened into a loose ponytail behind his head and he had an old green Army vest on, a memento from his Army days. His pair of observant deep brown eyes were quietly studying the chaos around him while he was talking with his comrades sitting at the table. He was a highly experienced Fighter and had been fighting the wars when Throttle and the rest of the younger generation had still been wearing diapers. The Commander's eyes fell on Throttle who walked now towards him.

"Ah, so he returns...Did ya get lost?" Stoker asked and a smirk, which was his trademark, appeared on his face, immidiately making him look much younger. A few Fighters chuckled at this remark and at Throttle's appearance as his whole body as well as his clothes were still covered with a fine layer of red sand dust even if he had tried to get himself clean.

"Yeah, we returned... Got caught in the storm..." The tan furred Fighter only replied.

"Yup, I heard the storm's pretty bad out there...So, spotted some aliens?" Stoker asked crossing his arms and leaning back on his chair, his eyes still keenly on his protege who sat down beside the table.

"We did, yes... And you were right, Stoker, these guys were from Earth."

Stoker made a small huff.

"Hey, mudpuppy, ya still gotta learn one thing and that's that I'm usually right." A more mischievious smirk appeared on Stoker's face as he poked his own head.

"Got it." Throttle replied while noticing someone placing a freshly poured pint infront of him. He glanced over his shoulder but couldn't spot who had brought him the pint but he raised it anyway, while now contemplating something for a brief moment, the bitter sweet smell of the dark liquid linguering into his nose, he was to take a sip from the pint but thought otherwise as he turned to his mentor again.

"So...What now?"

Stoker who had in the mean time concentarted his look on this rather chaotic party happening in the base at the moment, changed his eyes back to Throttle and he had a calculating look on his ruggety handsome features which most of the females appreciated, the few old and new scars here and there only adding to his charm. He certainly was not shy to bathe in his "bad boy" image himself. After leaving the Army, he had built up quite a reputation on Mars, even if the reputation wasn't all good but hey, all publicity was good publicity, right?

Throttle could feel and more importantly see the two attentive eyes examining him quietly and blatantly, Stoker wasn't known for his subtlety, he didn't ask your approval. Throttle wondered whether Stoker actually had left the Army or instead had been kicked out...Since he never had been one to hide his opinions and he certainly would not follow any rules that weren't his owns, and sometimes not even for them. But he was a legend, and more importantly he knew himself that he was a legend so he had the audacity to do whatever he wanted.

"Now? Well, nothing. Not yet. We need to be smart. We don't know what these aliens want...How many were there?" Stoker asked.

"Nine." Throttle answered.

"Well, I highly doubt they'll be having an invasion on mind with that little numbers..." Stoker wondered scratching his scruffy cheek.

"But if they're not here to invade, then what are they doing here? I mean, I doubt they even know this planet is habitated in the first place. Didn't these guys think that they're the only intelligent life-form out here in this vast galaxy...?" Throttle raised questionably his eyebrow. Stoker gave a snort.

"I know... That comment alone should eliminate them from the long list of intelligent life forms that habitate this universe..." The Commander mused back.

"I just wonder what their purpose to come here in the first place is..." Throttle started, mainly talking to himself before he felt a wave of sleepyness wash through him now that he was back at the Headquarters again, safe from the storm, safe from anything that might hunt one's sorry ass out in the wild deserts, and most importantly he was faraway from all the horrors and noises and smells the frontiers had to offer. And his body knew that, so it was on the verge to collapse right there and then. He let out a sigh, looking around the base. All the other Fighters now present there had had the time to catch some sleep after they'd comen back to the base from their last battle. Throttle didn't himself have too much energy to party at the moment.

"It just doesn't make sense that they'd come here..." He continued.

"Well, not everything in life makes sense, grasshopper..." Stoker replied in a rather fatherly manner and took a big gulp from his pint, tasting it before swallowing it down.

"I know but..." Throttle answered but not really knowing how to make his thoughts that were hazyly lingering in his brain a coherent sentence that he could even understand himself. But again, he was really tired so even his brains didn't work properly anymore. Everything was just shutting down.

"Don't worry, bro, we'll keep our eye on them... Was there anything else in particular interesting?" Stoker asked and it was clear that he wasn't too interested of this group of aliens. And in a way, it wasn't that uncommon to have aliens on Mars since unlike humans the Martians were highly aware that there was intelligent life out there in this vast universe and one of these lifeforms were at the moment trying to invade Mars and stripmine it bare. Now, whether or not the Plutarkians were to be considered as intelligent was a debatable topic but they were an extraterrestial life form nevertheless. So, maybe Throttle couldn't really blame their Commander for his lack of interest, they were facing a far more threathning dilemma with the nasty evil race of fish faces than with these few weak-looking aliens from Earth who were just taking baby steps in their space travelling and were completely oblivious that the planet they landed on was actually full of life. But unlike Stoker, Throttle had some concerns, but he was more of a worrying type anyway.

"They did have this vehicle, a very slow one but they drove towards east..." The tan furred male started and finally got some kind of a reaction from Stoker who raised his eyebrow at him, now looking slightly more interested in the topic.

"Towards the Camp?" Stoker asked with his slightly raspy voice that always seemed to have this unplaceble edge to it.

"Yes, but with the speed that vehicle was driving, I doubt they're going too far from the landing site...Maybe they're planning to build a base somewhere?" Throttle thought out loud, his voice even if him being much younger, was more raspier and even a bit deeper than his mentor's, but he was taller as well and compared to Stoker's toned yet leaner physique he sported a bigger frame also. If thinking Cave Mice in general, Throttle was a bit taller than the average male even if his height did pale in comparison to Modo but to be fair, most of the creatures out there paled in comparison to the big male's impressive frame. He wasn't quoted as the "Big Fella'" for no reason.

"Hm, so typical, these aliens just come here and camp on our planet without a proper visa...Soon they're gonna take our jobs and our females..." Stoker chuckled back giving the other mice sitting close to them a humoured look and they all chuckled back while Throttle's eyes were studying his mentor's every move behind the dark specs. Stoker then placed his pint down infront of him, his lean fingers caressing its' cool metal surface while contemplating something.

"Well, since they were heading east we better inform the Camp... They should inform mice there to keep close to the Camp just in case. And keep their eyes open." The older male thought.

"Sounds good." Throttle nodded and finally took a sip from his pint, leaving foam around his lips that he wiped away using the back of his hand, the salty taste of the sand still stuck to his fur slyly entering his mouth as well.

"You didn't see the Army, did you?" Stoker then frowned.

"Nah...But they could've gone there after we left, to check the landing site and the spaceship..." Throttle answered, taking another gulp.

"Well, there's one thing the Army's good at and that's being too late in every situation..." Stoker talked and grabbed some salted seeds from a little bowl on the table and threw them into his mouth.

"Still... You think we should inform them about the Earthlings? I mean, I guess they've already gone there to check things out themselves but you know... As a friendly gesture?" Throttle asked slightly reserved as he knew what the Commander's thoughts on the Army was. There was a silence at the table as Stoker was eating the seeds while having a pondering look on his face before he then wiped his fingers to his red camo pants.

"Well... We could..." He then drawled and Throttle let out a silent sigh, already knowing what his mentor was to say.

"But I don't know if I wanna make that call...to give any handouts to them, let the lil' soldier boys figure this one out themselves... Anyway, they're the ones who have the government funding behind them, if their crappy radars didn't spot the alien craft then it's their problem..."

"C'mon, Stoke..." Throttle tried, not really bying this point of view.

Stoker took another handful of seeds and threw them into his mouth again.

"...that said... I think you should call your girlfriend." He talked his mouth full.

"Carbine?" Throttle raised his eyebrow behind the fieldspecs as this was a slightly unexpected request coming from the man at the end of the table but then again, Stoker was an unexpected character, noone really knew what went on in his head.

"Yeah, you could tell her about your day... about your little alien encounters after you're done with your viral kissy-kissy thing..." Stoker replied his attention still on the seeds in this little bowl, and he was poking around them, choosing the best ones.

Throttle made a chuckle and scratched his scalp underneath his longer hair.

"You just don't wanna make the call to Sergeant Scabbard, do you?"

That comment made Stoker to stop playing with the seeds for a second and he turned his eyes on Throttle, now a slight irritation burning in his look.

"Who's got the time and energy to talk with that boring individual? I certainly don't. I have a war to win." Stoker turned to his seeds again but now only sighed and pushed the small bowl further away from him and he turned his attention to this room full of his loyals.

"Someone has to atleast try and save this planet..." He muttered.

Throttle knew he had touched a bit sore subject or atleast a subject that always got Stoker riled up.

"Fine, I'll call Carbine..." The tan furred rebel commented. He had been meaning to call her anyway although he had thought that he'd have the time to sleep in-between but oh well. So much for getting into bed and calling it a day just yet.

"Good." Stoker merely stated back, rocking in his chair. But after a little silence Stoker seemed to ease up a little and gave Throttle another glance and his trademark smirk was there again adorning his face.

"When you call her, tell her hi from her Uncle. Tell her that her Uncle is still waiting for her to get into her senses and switch sides, she's always welcome to join our ranks if she ever wants to be on the winning team."

"We're all on the same side, Stoke..." Throttle replied, knowing full well that he might lightly cross the line here but even if he respected their Commander he did have opinions himself also, and opinions were not discouraged around the Freedom Fighters HQ. Stoker only shrugged his shoulders back at his comment though. Even if the opinions were not discouraged, Stoker didn't have to like them or even take them into consideration.

"Where d'ya get that? From a bumper sticker?" Stoker snorted and Throttle gave the Commander a look back, experiencing a flash of annoyance now himself. Yup, the Army most certainly wasn't Stoker's favourite of all topics to small talk.

Stoker straightened his back and now changing the topic, he pointed Vinnie with his pint who was playing pool with Modo on the other side of the main hall and the young rebel was making fighting moves with the cue stick, like an extraterrestial ninja, while waiting not so patiently his turn.

"How was the kid?"

"He was...fine. You know. Restless." Throttle answered.

The hazle brown mouse nodded and placed the pint down, studying the young white furred male who was doing his bravados, while Throttle was observing Stoker himself again now that the male in question was occupied with something else. His mentor, who would propably soon be around forty but it was hard to tell his exact age. There was something ageless about this legendary Fighter.

Stoker had been a decorated Army soldier before he had, for some reasons no one really knew, left the Army, burning all the bridges after him and in a few years he had established the resistance movement which now had grown into a fully-orginized and well-operating guerilla troops called the Freedom Fighters. Needless to say, the Army didn't take too kindly of this development nor did their government after all the Fighters didn't take orders from nether of them. Throttle gave the old green Army vest the older male had on another look, he had always been curious why he would wear that still, the Army soldier's vest, with a honory medal pinned to it...Was it irony?

Throttle's thoughts were been interrupted as he heard the hazle male speak again.

"We got a tip from the rats that the Plutarkians are to take their troops to the Elysium Rise... We're leaving there early in the morning." Stoker then put Throttle up to date with what has been going on while they had been on their mission.

Throttle nodded back but when he was to ask about the specifics about the upcoming battle he noticed that the older male's eyes had started to glimmer as he was regarding something, well, someone to be precise. Throttle followed his gaze and found that it was directed to this ginger coloured female, with long hair on a ponytail, wearing the same kind of red camouflage pants as all the rest of them but the camo top was more hugging to her figures, showing some cleavage and was tight just all around her curvy but lean body. She was just cleaning her hands from the bike oil as she had apparently been repairing the bikes, the dark oil stains also colouring her other cheek as well as her top.

Her name was Harley, their mechanic and the one who could do first aid around the base, since usually it was that both the Fighter and his bike needed patching up after the battles. It was handy to have someone who knew how to handle both. And she sure did. She was a talented mechanic and quick-minded and her tongue was sharp, not going shy with all this testosterone around her. And it wasn't exactly a secret that she was very easy on the eyes, too...Being the only female around the base, as it was quite rare to find women out there in the battlefields or even around the bases, she gathered attention from many of the males around the Headquarters. But she could handle the flirting, she was tough and did not tolerate anykind of bullshit which many of them had learnt the hard way.

Stoker would occasionally assign her with a mission, to go out with a team but she never entered the battles, not that she wouldn't have wanted, Stoker just didn't allow her, stating that she always needed more practise, more everything... But Harley had been quite adamant to someday join the Fighters in the battlefields, so she did train with the Fighters and she actually started to be quite good, so it was only a matter of time when Stoker would simply run out of reasons and excuses and reluctantly allow her to join the battles.

Throttle raised his eyebrow wondering but as he was to give Stoker another look the Commander had already gotten up and he absent-mindedly patted Throttle on his back.

"Good work today, punk!"

And he was off. Throttle watched as the male strolled to Harley who, when seeing him, gave a flirtatious look at the Commander and judging by the way Harley laughed, Stoker had fired a flirty comment back and they started to talk, relatively close to each other, regarding each other in this little nook, speaking with soft and quiet words, almost whispering, changing flirty and even a bit daring looks at each other the whole time and Throttle noticed Stoker to place his palm on her shoulder, squeezing it gently, stroking it...Rumours told that there was something going on between these two and while regarding them now together, Throttle was proned to believe those rumours. Even if Stoker maybe could easily be her father.

But age didn't really pay too big of a role within the Cave Mice population. As Mars had had its' fair share of wars through-out the years, it had been hard enough to find a mate let alone raise a family and due to these wars between other alien races or against the fellow Martians the death rate amongst the Cave Mice had always been relatively high. To add the environmental catastrophy the planet was suffering from to all this, it did not really help to keep the Cave Mice numbers up as the years seemed to only get leaner and there was always a shortage of food and water. And to maybe make things even more complicated considering the future of their race, the Martian females were on heat only twice a year what meant that the mice were either born in the summer or in the winter and not through-out the year if maybe comparing to the humans. So, in order to keep their race alive, noone really cared about age differences or other minor things, as long as both were over seventeen and so considered adults, everything was fine.

And to the reason why there hardly were any females fighting alongside males was that the Cave Mice even if been technologically advanced race wasn't equally evolved with the family dynamics as the females usually stayed home making babies or participated in the home front, making their share to keep their race alive. It wasn't maybe the most modern way to act as a highly evolved species but it was the Cave Mice way. Not many females would've even wanted to participate in the war as soldiers but the ones who did want to fight for their planet were maybe also slightly frowned upon in some circles, or atleast they did have to prove themselves and be better than their male colleagues to even to be taken seriously, but that was maybe the way all over the galaxy whether or not the species were considered evolved or not.

No more interested in secretly watching someone else's alleged lovelife Throttle got up, leaving the pint on the table and headed towards the VidCom, the big screen that covered a big portion of one wall. There sat one Fighter who was still on duty even if the others were more or less chilling around the base. His job was to keep an eye on the radars, on the different radio sequencies and collect data that would help the Fighters when battling against the Plutarkians. Throttle nodded at the male.

"Get Corporal Carbine on the line, won't you, Topper?"

"Sure thing, bro..." Topper, the brown furred male started to type a code into the system and the big screen lit up.

"Making a good-night call?" Topper asked as a way to know whether he should give the male a bit privacy here.

"Nah, just leakin' information to the rivals..." Throttle lightly chuckled back.

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So, there was now a bit history revealed on the mice also, about their race and all...

The next chapter will be all about the humans and I can give a hint that they'll encounter something strange...

So, hope you enjoyed reading this chapter and please leave a review, it always brightens up my day!

Until next time,

SpaceFlora