Chapter 2: Assistance, Introductions, and Reunions

Five miles west of Chicago

Both Martian females knew they had to gather more local sources of information, so they kept their eyes open for the nearest equivalent of an information center. The best they could find was the inside of a public library. Since books had become increasingly rare, almost a luxury, Lia looked to her heart's content, wondering what it would take for her to borrow just one book.

Vic also looked, but instead spotted the Information Desk, currently occupied by an iron-haired human woman with pale, crepe-like skin. Neither had any idea if humans were aware of Martian or Plutarkian existence on their planet, so both had decided to keep their helmets on. Vic cleared her throat. "Excuse me, ma'am?"

The woman looked at them with clear-blue eyes through her rimless glasses. "Yes, my dear, what can I do for you?"

"Ma'am, we're new to the area, and we'd like to get a little more information," Lia started. "The problem is, we don't know quite where to start. Can you help us?"

"Well, of course, my dears. Follow me." She led them to one of six computers open to patrons, using her access code to allow them to use it without identification of their own. She also showed them how to use the new search engine to get any information they could want. They thanked her before she scooted back her desk.

Vic handed Lia a scrap of paper on which she had written the original coordinates they had been bound for. Using the "Internet browser", Lia found the corresponding local building: Limburger Enterprises. "Now we know where and who," Lia said, showing Vic the information. "If that stinking cheese has his own teleport, we can use it to get to Mars."

"And if we know anything about Plutarkians in general, he'll have his own army of locals paid off to protect him and any interests he has on Earth," Vic agreed.

Lia then hit upon a curiosity: the main tower of Limburger Plaza had been rebuilt over fifty times in the last two years after being repeatedly demolished. Aside from keeping the local construction companies in almost consistent work, she saw no reason for that to happen, unless… "I think we have allies here, Vic," she said quietly. "Someone's been fighting off Limburger and his plans for this area for the last two years. That's someone I want to meet."

Vic looked over her shoulder at the same info and laughed quietly. "Yeah, and whoever it is has my brother's talent for destruction."

"There may be a way to kill two rats with one stone." Lia looked back at the Information Desk. "It's been seven weeks since our bikes were looked at. See if she knows a good place in town. Garage owners know everything about their customers and their vehicles; whoever she sends us to might know a thing or three about Limburger's plans over the years."

Vic knew Lia was probably right about their bikes needing a tending-to; she usually was about such things. "You head out to the bikes," she offered. "I'll ask."

Once again, Vic cleared her throat to get the older human's attention. "I hate to bother you again, ma'am, but we need to have our bikes looked at while we're here. Can you recommend a place?"

The woman smiled again. "Actually, yes." Opening a drawer, she found a small piece of paper with printing on it. "My son swears by the owner's work, says she's a genius with engines. I'm sure she'll be perfect."

Taking the paper, Vic read: "Last Chance Garage, Charlene Davidson, proprietor", with the garage's address and contact information. Vic grinned. "Gotta love a woman who owns her own business. Thank you very much, ma'am." She reached out and squeezed the kind woman's hand. "Ride free, honored elder," she said with all the sincerity she could put in her voice.

The woman seemed to recognize the phrase, for she squeezed back and replied, "Ride free, my dear, always."

When Vic finally joined her outside, Lia noticed a little hitch in her friend's breathing. "Vic, you okay?"

Vic turned to her with shining red eyes. She couldn't tell her, for she hardly dared to hope herself. Now she shook her head and handed Lia the business card. "She said this is the best place to go. Hopefully, Ms. Davidson will have some idea of who we can trust here."

Lia also saw the address and the name of the garage's owner. "Especially if the head cheese tried to buy up her place at any point. Shall we?"

"We shall." They revved their engines again, taking off.

-B-

The Last Chance Garage, Chicago, Illinois

Charlene Davidson—better known to her friends and customers as Charley—pulled her auburn head from an engine in mid-overhaul to hear two motorcycles coming her way, both in need of a tune-up. She knew that neither bike could belong to her friends, because she had just tuned them herself last week. Not only that, these bikes had the very distinct, slightly hyper-sonic whine of Martian-made engines. This observation, to her mind, had two possible conclusions: two more Martian mice were in Chi-town, or their unfriendly neighborhood villain had teleported in someone with stolen Martian tech.

Either way, she was expecting something interesting right about now.

Scrubbing her hands on a clean rag, she opened the automatic door to reveal the two bikes in question. Both were beautiful pieces of Martian machinery, but the female riders really caught her attention. The rider of the sleek gold bike with red flames was built, topping out at six feet even, wearing a cropped red-leather jacket, black shirt, and black cargo pants, with a small pack attached to her belt. The bright-green bike's pilot was closer to Charley's height, about five-seven, but not nearly as slender, dressed in what looked like blue denim from her dark-green combat boots to her shirt and topped with a long, dark-blue leather trench coat. Unlike her macho mice, these two had biker helmets that completely obscured their faces when the visors were up. She couldn't see tails, but that could mean anything.

Trench Coat dismounted first. "Ms. Davidson?" Her voice was slightly muffled by the visor, but Charley could tell it was akin to a soprano.

Charley smiled. "Please, call me Charley. Can I assume you're here for more than just a tune up for your bikes?"

Both riders paused as if surprised. The Amazon in red spoke next, her muffled voice slightly deeper than her friend's. "How did you know?"

"I could hear it as you rode up. And my friends have bikes like yours, so I know what a Martian bike in good condition is supposed to sound like." She tried for reassuring as she gathered up the necessary tools. "Take off the helmets, please? I'd like to know what you look like."

With a traded glance, the two female bikers removed their headgear. Amazon was gray-furred with ash-white markings that stretched back into the chin-length black hair on her head and between her red antennae, giving her a distinguished look. Trench Coat had to shake out her shoulder-length red curls, pulling them away from her white face and red antennae.

In their own ways, Charley thought, each of them was as pretty as Carbine.

"So I was right?" Trench Coat asked, cautiously hopeful. "There are other Martians here?"

Charley nodded as she knelt by the bright-green machine. "Three of them." She looked up from the engine. "What's your name?"

Trench Coat grinned. "I'm Victoria, but everyone calls me Vic." She gestured to Amazon, who was shedding her jacket to put on a chair. "And this babe is my friend Aprilia."

"Just Lia," the gray fur corrected. "My full name is just too much of a mouthful, especially when we're in a hurry."

Charley nodded as she tuned Vic's engine. "I can understand that. So, what are you doing here?"

"Here in your garage, or here on Earth in general?" Lia asked.

"Both." Charley finished Vic's tune-up and moved on to Lia's.

"If you've met these Freedom Fighters, you know about the Plutarkians and their invasion of Mars," Vic started. When Charley nodded, she continued. "Lia and I are spies. We'd been undercover with the Plutarkians for almost one and a half of your years."

Charley's tool almost slipped in her hand as she gazed up in shock. "You've been spying on the stink-fishes for eighteen months? How could you stand the smell?!"

"Nostril filters," Lia interjected, "and the willingness to turn off the sense of smell in your brain."

"As for how we got to Earth, we were caught and thrown into a teleporter," Vic went on. "I don't know if we got careless or they got smarter, but someone noticed the information leaked to the Freedom Fighters—including how our own government had sold large tracts of Martian real estate to Plutark before the invasion began. Anyway, we didn't know where they were trying to send us, so we had to redirect the beam, while we were still inside it, and wound up west of here. We asked a nice lady in a library for the best place for our bikes, and garages have information, whether they know it or not."

"We needed the tune-up," Lia added, "but we also had to find out who was constantly wrecking Limburger's tower. Anyone who hates him that much could be our ally, maybe even a friend."

"And you say there are three other Martian mice here?" Vic asked.

Charley nodded. "They went out on patrol on the west side a few hours ago. They should be back anytime. After which, I'm gonna give them a piece of my mind for leaving me behind, again."

Vic and Lia shared a smile; they were familiar with this "macho mouse" phenomenon. "Let me guess," Lia said. "They're chivalrous to the point of chauvinism?"

Charley nodded. "Yes! I'm the one rebuilding their bikes, patching them up half the time, and I've proven that I can fight! And they still treat me like I have to be protected."

"To them, you are," Vic added. "The Plutarkians and their pet allies usually have no qualms about going after the weak and helpless. We females have learned to fight out of necessity, but those who don't, or are unable to, are protected almost to the point of absurdity."

"I don't want to think about how certain male relatives of ours would react to us volunteering to spy on the stink-fishes," Lia pointed out.

Vic shuddered; yeah, she could imagine her brother's reaction, and it wasn't a pretty image.

Charley cocked her head to one side, hearing three familiar bike engines coming their way. "Well, ladies, you're about to meet Chi-Town's own alien heroes," she said with a smile.

Uncertain of who they would meet, the girl mice grabbed and put their helmets on.

The Biker Mice from Mars rolled into the Last Chance, mindful of the last few times they had crashed through without opening the doors first. Vinnie, the white-furred adrenaline junkie, pulled off his helmet first, showing his half-metal face. "Hey, there, Charley-girl!" he greeted. He was always cheerful and hungry after tangling with Limburger's goons.

Modo, the gentle gray-furred giant, smiled at Charley before noticing the other two bikes in the garage. "You have customers, Charley-ma'am?"

"We have visitors, guys," Charley corrected. She gestured to the two newcomers with her thumb. "Originally from your neck of the galaxy."

Vinnie was the first to realize they were female and grinned. "Well, hello, ladies."

"Typical," Vic laughed as she removed her helmet, revealing herself. "You have the charm and looks in the family, while I'm stuck with the brains."

For once since Charley had met him, Vinnie was struck speechless. "V-Victoria?" he whispered.

Vic's smile turned nervous and a little emotional. "Hi, big brother. Looking good."

Vinnie blinked twice before darting forward and sweeping Vic into a hug, whooping out a mad-mouse laugh. "Vickie!"

Vic laughed as tears leaked from her eyes, holding on tight. "Missed you so much, Vincent." She playfully punched his shoulder. "And don't call me 'Vickie'!"

Modo and Throttle, their tan furred leader, looked at the Van Wham reunion with smiles, pleased for their bro. Then they noticed the other mouse had removed her own helmet and approached them. Modo's breath caught in his throat at the familiar face with ash-white markings. "Aprilia?"

"Hey, little cousin," she replied, tears in her voice.

Modo brought up his flesh left hand to gently cup her cheek. "Aw Lia! Oh, momma, you're real!" He reeled her in close for her own hug, wrapping her arms around him in response.

Throttle shook his head in amusement. "Hey, don't I get a hug?" he half-joked.

The girl mice exchanged looks and separated from their respective family members. Throttle suddenly found himself the filling of a mouse sandwich, both girls hugging him and kissing him loudly on both cheeks. "Missed you, Throttle!" they said in young, high-pitched voices.

Charley, Modo, and Vinnie laughed as the cool and collected mouse blushed to the curves of his ears.

-M-

AN2: By the end of Season 2, Limburger Tower had to be rebuilt fifty-six times, according to the billboard at the end of the episode "High Rollin' Rodents".

AN3: "Vincent" and "Victoria" have the same root word ("to conquer" or "to win" in Latin), so of course I made them siblings! Aprilia is a brand of motorcycle in Italy, so I thought it was appropriate.