FicWad

Twenty-one years ago
'Another medic, over here, quick!'
'Diagnosis - blaster wound to chest and throat. Nasty. Hang in there, my man, we'll do our best. I want plasma, bandages, sutures, right now!'
'He's dropping!'
'Shit - stand back, initiating CPR.'
'...Still dropping!'
'...'
'He's gone, Chet.'
'...Damn. Call it.'
'Time of death 3.47pm. Medics Flare an' Machete.'
'Who was he?'
'His name was Corporal Ducat.'
'Wasn't he married?'
'Yeah. Three sons - Yammer, Throttle an' Pitch.'
'Hell. I know his wife. I'll have to tell Angel myself, she's going to take this so hard.'

Twenty years ago
Another battle, another raid, and once again far too many mice had not come back. Stoker and Scabbard led the return, Scabbard with his eyes fixed on the horizon, Stoker trying and failing not to look at the people who were desperately scanning the ranks for their own loved ones. One of the faces in the street, a pale girl in her late teens with a baby in her arms, cast her eyes over the much-diminished troops a couple of times, then impaled Stoker with the most accusing glare he'd encountered in years. Then she balanced the child on her hip and followed him. Stoker cursed under his breath. This one wasn't going to let him down easy.
He was right, of course. The girl was waiting for him when they broke ranks, still with the baleful glare.
'Hello, Ninja,' he said wearily.
'Where are they?' demanded Ninja.
'Oh, man, you cut right to the chase, don't you?'
'Of course I do, they're my parents! Where are my mum and dad?'
Stoker considered the answer Scabbard would probably give, then he gave up and gave her the answer he felt was honest. 'I'm sorry, Ninja. We were set up. Scabbard doesn't think so but we were. Bowie and Blaze - they did their best. I'm so sorry. They were two of the best soldiers I ever knew. But we were set up. So many good soldiers died today.'
Ninja stared dully at the ground in silence. Then she looked at the baby she was carrying and impaled Stoker with another killer stare.
'Why didn't you do anything?' she said. 'See this kid? I'm all he's got now. Because you didn't do anything.'
'What did you want me to do?' said Stoker hopelessly.
'Anything! Protest, mutiny, desert - /anything/! You know, if you hadn't been there yourself I'd say you were a murderer. But you were, so I guess you're just a coward.' Ninja scowled at Stoker, turned on her heel and stalked off.
'We couldn't have done anything,' said Scabbard from behind him. 'Orders are orders.'
'No,' said Stoker. 'She's right. We were set up and you know it. This army's taking orders direct from the stinkfish.'
'You don't believe that!'
'You believe the orders for today's raid came from a friendly place?' asked Stoker wearily. Suddenly he felt too old to be thirty-four.
'Whatever they were, they were orders and they had to be obeyed!' said Scabbard, and Stoker didn't feel old anymore, he felt angry.
'That attitude is gonna get us all killed!' he snapped.
'No, it's going to keep us alive!'
Stoker looked stunned. 'If you believe that you're an idiot.'
'At least I'm not an out-of-control idiot!'
'No, you're a predictable idiot, which is worse!'
'You're way out of line, Stoker!'
'Maybe I don't want to be in your lines anymore!' Both mice were shouting now, nose to nose. They appeared to realise this at the same moment, and carefully backed down.
'Desert, then,' said Scabbard quietly. 'And to hell with you.'
'I'll bet there's more than me will go if I do,' said Stoker.
'Good riddance,' said Scabbard as Stoker walked away.

'Stoker - Stoke, are y'all OK?' said Flare as he stamped past her into the mess hall, slamming the door back against the wall. His glare swept the room; if looks could kill everyone staring at him would have been in bodybags. A hundred pairs of eyes returned hastily to their meals.
'Stoke? Can you hear me?'
He appeared to register Flare's presence for the first time. 'No,' he muttered. 'No, I don't reckon I am OK. Do me a favour, Flare - I need to talk and I don't want to be court-marshalled. Get anyone you think'll listen and bring 'em to my place after check in.'
'What the hell-' began Flare, but Stoker had already gone.

Stoker surveyed the gathering, slightly taken aback. The room was crowded, all in all there were about sixty mice, of all ages. 'You know what, if we get found like this I'm gonna have a harder time telling a few people why I had a party and didn't invite them...'
'Yeah, get to the point,' said one of the mechanics. 'They're gonna miss me if I'm not back by next shift.'
'Everybody knows to keep schtum, right, Flash? I'm no good to anyone in the clink.'
'Sure, all tight, now get on with it.'
Stoker cleared his throat. 'Alright, then. Here we are at the end of a day in which a raiding party has gone out and less than a quarter come home - /again/! This is the third raid this month with such a devastating effect! We are being set up! We are being betrayed! We are being killed off! We have had it hard before but now our beloved government of Mars no longer care whether we live or die. They do not care that Mars will be strip-mined out of existence. All they care about is being in the stinking pay of those Plutarkians who we hate and fear so much. These are the mice who give our orders, and while we remain under Scabbard's command we will have to follow those orders, even to our deaths and the deaths of our children. I have seen too many plains wet with the blood of my friends and family. When I gave my life to this war I thought I would be fighting to keep them alive. It has been fifteen years, the war is not over but all my family are dead. My people hide in the caves and children know the feel of a weapon before they can run. Innocence is dead. Freedom is dying. Do you want to grow old as the last members of a dying race? We have a long fight ahead of us, my friends, I will not lie to you. There was always going to be a fight. But follow me and you can know you're on the right side. I don't fight for riches or prestige. I fight for freedom, and a bright and brilliant future for Mars, a Mars as lovely as it was before the Plutarkians came, a Mars for your children and your children's children. A free Mars for all of us.'
There was silence. Then someone started to clap, someone else joined in, then another and another until everyone was clapping. Normally Stoker would have revelled in applause, but now he just stood there, his face grim, till the noise died down. When he spoke he sounded as though he hadn't slept in years.
'No time like the present. Anyone not coming with me, leave now.' Nobody moved.
'How're we gonna do this, Stoke?' said Flash.
'We'll go to the Sentinel cavern to begin with. Sure, it needs a bit of work but it'll do till we can find a better place. We need... we need someone in the com room - Suzie, you. Tell Scabbard there's something that needs scouting-'
'Like what?' said Suzuki.
'Doesn't matter. Something minor that we can be, uh, ambushed from. I'll put together a team to investigate and we can just not come back. Fix the bike coms to shut down so Scabbard thinks we're all dead.'
'And what about the people who aren't soldiers?' said Ninja tartly.
'Meet at Honda's Cross later that night. Think you can all get out of the camp? Who's on sentry that night? Show hands, people...' Two mice put their hands up.
'And four others, Stoke, it's gonna be hard,' said Savage.
'It always was gonna be hard. Can anyone think of any other way?' No-one could. 'Right. We have nothing to lose except our freedom and the future of our planet.'

Eighteen bikes on silent running were slipped between the two rebel sentries. Occasionally a child would start mewling and everyone would freeze... but nothing happened, and then everyone would begin to breathe again. Savage shushed Ninja's bike through and hissed, 'Are you the last?'
'Yeah,' she whispered. 'See you there.' And the pale figure vanished into the darkness.
'Savage,' said a voice behind him and he almost had a heart attack. He swallowed and turned around.
'Sir.'
'I take it you will no longer be with us tomorrow,' said Scabbard quietly. Savage said nothing. 'There's no place for traitors in my army.' Savage thought this ironic, considering, but he let Scabbard continue. 'So go. And when you see that bastard Stoker give him a message from me.'
'Sir?'
'Tell him that as far as this army's concerned you're all dead.'
'I... I don't know what to say,' said Savage. 'Thankyou.'
'Don't thank me. I wash my hands of the lot of you. Now go. You're not in this army anymore.'
Savage looked over Scabbard's shoulder at the other sentry, Kawasaki. She looked stunned. But she met his gaze, he nodded and they followed the others into the night.

Nineteen years ago
The battle was going badly for the Army, trapped in the open with nowhere to hide. Already many of their best had gone down and the medics were stretched to their limit. Scabbard turned to order the retreat but realised they were cut off by fire and there was nowhere to go.
Suddenly there was a boom, and the nearest stilt walker exploded. Another followed it, and another - the soldiers threw themselves on the ground as red-hot metal arced through the air at head height and smashed on the rocks. And then there was silence. But only for a moment, before the air was filled with the sound of bike engines and shouting and the battlefield was full of bikes.
'Stoker,' said Scabbard.
Stoker nodded curtly. 'Sorry we were late. Didn't lose too many, I hope?'
'A few.'
'Huh.' Stoker called over his shoulder. 'Flare, you got backup medics?'
'Way ahead of you, Stoke!' called Flare.
'Well, you heard the lady,' said Stoker. 'Your survivors should be OK. And we had to mop up your ass again. You getting careless, Scabbard?'
'No,' said Scabbard.
'Oh, yeah, I forgot, only following orders. Well, those following your orders are lucky we're here.'
'If you don't want to do it, why do it?'
'We're on the same side and you got a lot of people my people care about. Got to look after our own, right?' Scabbard said nothing, so Stoker shrugged and went off to help the medics. And as time went on, as Army and Freedom Fighters started first to take each other for granted and then to rely on each other, nobody said a thing. Officially.

Eighteen years ago
Silver came in from the clinic looking stunned, a hand on her stomach. Her boyfriend took her gently by the shoulders, concerned.
'You OK, hon?' he said. 'Silver, what did they say? Is everything OK?'
Silver looked at him with glowing eyes. 'Tommy,' she said. 'Everything's just fine!'
Tommy looked confused. 'But you were so sick - how can everything be fine?'
She took his hands and looked searchingly into his face. 'You love me, don't you?' she said.
'Yes,' said Tommy. 'Of course I do. Why? Is it something serious?'
'Oh, Tommy - Ah'm pregnant!' There was silence. The brilliant smile melted from Silver's face. 'What? Don't you think it's great?'
'Silvie... no... you're too young... I'm too young...'
'You don't want it,' sobbed Silver.
'I... just not yet, it's too soon, Silvie, c'mon, we're eighteen years old, I can't do this!'
'Ah'm not getting rid of it, Tommy.'
Tommy swallowed. 'I... I'll stay.'
Silver looked carefully at his face. 'No. No, you won't,' she said coldly. 'You're too scared.'

Nine months later
Silver lay in the medibay bed with a baby on each arm, talking to her mother.
'Well, momma, how come daddies in this family all turn out to be rats?' she said.
'Mah daddy wasn't no rat,' said Flare. 'An' if Modo ever gets to be a daddy, he won't be a rat neither. 'Cause your momma didn't raise no rat, right, Modo?'
'Right, Momma,' said Modo obediently. 'Whatcha gonna call 'em, Silvie?'
'The girl's Primer,' said Silver, 'an' the boy's Rimfire. And he ain't gonna be no rat either, are you, Rimfire, no, you're gonna be a proper gentlemouse and your momma's gonna be proud.'
'That's my girl,' said Flare. She scruffed Modo's hair, smiling. 'We know how to raise 'em in this family, don't we?'

Seventeen years ago
The bomb blast took out a whole street. Sixteen people died instantly, nine were injured, four escaped. In the aftermath, the survivors were brought to the medibay for treatment, and Stoker came here for the first report.
'We're treatin' Dart, Kukhri and Colt for shock,' said Flare. 'Blue we're a lil' bit worried 'bout but she seems to be a tougher kid than most. Ah just wish more of these were that tough...'
'Who've we got to worry about here?' said Stoker.
'Blade, Diesel and Stiletto should all be fine. Superficial injuries. Throttle needs stitches but he should pull through as well. The only trouble is, his only surviving relative is on the danger list.'
'The hell?' Stoker snatched at the comp-pad in Flare's hand. 'I thought that kid had a mother and two brothers.'
'He did. Angel and Pitch're both in the morgue. There's just Yammer and Throttle left now and Yammer's got quite a fight ahead of him.'

One week later
Stoker hated this part. The kid was six, for god's sake, it just wasn't fair that he should have gone from being the youngest in a large family to being the sole surviving member. And Stoker had to tell him.
There was a knock on the door. Stoker sighed. 'Come in, kiddo.'
The child was small and light brown, with one arm still bandaged up. Stoker had expected him to look scared or sad, but he just looked tired.
'So... you're Throttle,' said Stoker.
'Yessir Mister Stoker sir,' said Throttle.
Stoker almost smiled. 'Cute. How're you feeling, kid?'
Throttle shrugged. 'I dunno. My arm itches. Flare said I wasn't to scratch it or I'd get something horrible.'
'And she's right.' Stoker pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 'I am so not good at doing this... Sit down, Throttle. I've... I've gotta tell you where your mom and your brothers have gone.'
'I know that,' said Throttle.
Wonderful, thought Stoker. Precocious, self-possessed and possibly brought up in some weird religion too. Why do I never get a textbook case? Aloud, he said, 'Yeah? Where do you think they've gone?'
'They're dead,' said Throttle matter-of-factly. 'The stinkfish took 'em. Mom said once if she went away that'd be what happened. An' she might be able to see me so I gotta be good.'
'Yeeesss...' said Stoker, remembering how practical Angel had been and also thinking that he liked this kid.
'An' Yammer said I wasn't to worry but I had to give 'em hell from him.'
Stoker almost choked on his laughter. That sounded like Yammer alright. He couldn't let this kid be brought up in the nurseries. 'Hey, kid, sounds like you've got it nailled. Well, since your house got blasted by the stinkfish I guess I'd better take care of you instead. And I'll make sure you can do your mom and daddy and brothers proud. OK?'

The following day
When Flare reported to Stoker, bringing Modo with her, she wasn't entirely surprised to see that Throttle was still there.
'Ah thought you'd like that kid,' she said. 'Here, Modo, you an' Throttle go play. Ah'm gonna talk to Uncle Stoker.'
Stoker watched the two six-year-olds playing in the empty training yard and said, 'I guess I just need someone to continue my legacy.'
'Hah, yeah, eternal loudmouth,' said Flare. 'Well, If Ah know Angel, you'll do a good job with her youngest or she'll chuck down a lightning bolt from the sky and singe all the fur off'f your ass.'
'You honestly think I could do a bad job?'
'With Throttle? Quite possibly. Just watch it, alright?'
'Yeah.' Stoker glanced over to where Throttle and Modo were chasing each other round the yard. 'Yeah, I'll watch it.'

Sixteen years ago
Stoker sighted along the barrel of the gun, fired and the centre of the target blossomed in red paint. He grinned and handed the paint gun down to Throttle. 'OK, kid, now, you have a go.'
Throttle aimed carefully, chewing his lip with concentration, and fired. With a splat the top of the target and some of the wall above it was suddenly covered in red.
'Not bad,' said Stoker. 'You got the target. Try again. This time you gotta get the bullseye.'
'I thought Modo was gonna be here,' said Throttle. 'You said we was both gonna get gun lessons today.'
'Yeah, I did, and Modo's late. So that means you get a little opportunity to get better than him, right?'
Throttle fired, and again hit the wall above the target, as the door opened to admit Flare and Modo.
'Hi, guys. Throttle, you're pulling high, you gotta make up for any pulls on your gun.' Then Stoker noticed Flare's face. 'Flare? You OK, sweetie?'
'Yeah,' said Flare. 'Just tired. We got a problem blaster burn; Ah'm not sure how she's gonna do.'
'Oh. I'm... I'm sorry. Modo, kid, your gun's on the table, Throttle'll show you how to load it and then you bring it here and we'll see if he's remembered right.' Stoker turned back to Flare, who looked like the weight of the world was on her shoulders. 'Listen, babe, you might be head medic around here but all this ain't your fault.'
'Yeah, Ah know,' sighed Flare. 'Ah just wish this girl Ninja was healthy enough so Ah could slap her thick head an' tell her it's not yours, either.'
'Ninja?'
'Yeah. The pale one with the kid brother.'
'Hey, I know who Ninja is. How the hell could I forget?' Stoker swore under his breath. 'And the kid, how's he?'
'Vinnie? Last Ah saw him he was runnin' around in the hospital creche yellin' that he was gonna be the biggest an' fastest an' meanest mouse in the universe. Looked just fine to me. Reminded me of you.'
'Yeah, well, I'm the biggest, fastest, meanest mouse in the universe right /now/,' said Stoker, but his heart wasn't really in it. 'You keep me posted on Ninja, OK?'
'Oh, she informed me in no uncertain terms that she wants you posted whether you like it or not. That girl got a grudge, Stoker - watch your back.'

The following day
Stoker looked down at the girl in the hospital bed. She was dying, a mass of drips and wires and had asked to see him so he was here, but he wasn't looking forward to this. Twenty-one. That was no age to die.
'I'm sorry, Ninja, sweetie,' he murmured.
'Damn straight,' whispered Ninja. 'Some future this turned out to be.'
'Yeah. I guess I let you down, huh?'
'Oh, hell yeah.' She started coughing, and blood stained fur that used to be so pristine white. 'But... but I'm gonna give you another chance.'
'Yeah?' said Stoker hopelessly.
'My kid brother's gonna get a future offa you or I come back and haunt you to yer grave.' She subsided, gasping, and Stoker gaped at her.
'You want me to look after Vinnie?'
'Yeah. You're a low-down dirty sonova rat but you're doin' OK by that other kid. To second chances, huh?'
'Uh... yeah. To second chances,' said Stoker, even though there was nothing to toast with.
'Now get lost. And remember, I'm gonna be watching you...'

'Hey, kid, you happy?' asked Stoker as soon as he got in.
'Huh? Yeah,' said Throttle. He was lying on his belly on the floor with a toy bike in each hand, and a ring of more toys around him.
'What did you do today?'
'Me an' Modo did some more gun practice an' I got more bullseyes than him. And then we had school an' Aprilia said we gotta start bike care next year.'
'Yeah? Anything else?'
Throttle made a face. 'She said you said I gotta start el'mentry tactics this year. Why've I gotta do that?'
'Hey, you wanna be the leader of the pack one day, you gotta learn a few things.'
'What pack?' said Throttle sulkily. 'It's just Modo 'n' me, we're not a /pack/.'
'Hey, little more respect there, rookie,' said Stoker. 'How do you know I ain't got a solution to your troubles?'
'I/ don't/ gotta start tactics?' said Throttle hopefully.
Stoker laughed. 'Nice try, no joy. Still... you want a brother?'
'Yeah! Oh, man, that'd be so cool!'
'Great. You know Vinnie?'
'The white kid who won't shut up? Oh.' Throttle looked distinctly underwhelmed. 'He's just a baby.'
'He's just a coupla years younger'n you and he's got nobody left in the world but you and me.' Stoker hunkered down beside Throttle and put an arm around his shoulders. 'So you do me a favour and be real nice to him. Make him welcome. You promise?'
'I never said I didn't like him, Stoke,' said Throttle.
'Yeah, I know. But I still want you to promise.'
'Stoke... have I gotta share my room now?'
'Fraid so, rookie, welcome to the real world. Promise...'
Throttle sighed heavily, then turned back to his bikes. 'Sure. I promise.'