Family Fortunes
This story is set on Mars shortly after the events shown in flashback in 'Once Upon a Time On Mars'. Most of the characters are my own, although a few canon characters - notably Carbine and Stilton - also feature.
Chapter 1
The shadowy figure leapt from rock to rock, its shapeless, russet-coloured clothing making it almost invisible against the stone and sand, only its movement, with accompanying clouds of dust, giving its position away. The movements were elegant, balletic even, propelling it effortlessly and speedily across terrain which would have been difficult and slow even for a fully equipped climber. At last the figure came to a rest. It perched on the edge of a high rise overlooking a pathway through the rocks, and looked down on another figure trudging along on foot – General Carbine. She had come most of the way by bike, and escorted, but even on the pathway the terrain was too rough for wheels and she had left her escort guarding the bikes. Now she paused for breath on the steep route, sighed as she realised how far she still had to go, and then carried on.
The figure grinned under his mask, and unhooked a short bow from his back before selecting an arrow. The first lesson, his master had taught him, was how to use your weapons. The second, more important lesson, was how not to. You were most successful when they never knew you’d been there. Even so, there were some targets which were just too tempting…
The arrow sang through the air, dead on target. Carbine was spun round, crashing against the rock face and sliding to the ground. There was a moment’s silence. Then the General twitched, and shakily sat up. She picked up her haversack and stared at the arrow protruding from it. The point was just sticking out on the other side – another inch and it could have killed her. She looked round at the sound of falling stones, hand reaching for her blaster, but another arrow whispered out of nowhere and pinned the holster to the ground. Then a figure dropped down in front of her. It was holding a bow, another arrow already notched on the string. Carbine managed to pull her gun free, but the anonymous archer drew back his bow, the arrow aimed to go straight through her throat.
“Please?” the bowman requested. Carbine’s eyes flickered from him to her gun, then sighed and tossed it away. He assailant relaxed, and pulled down his mask. It was a brown rat, young but with eyes that suggested he was old beyond his years.
“You missed” pointed out Carbine, indicating her haversack.
“Believe me, if I’d wanted you dead, you would be” the rat retorted. “People who wander into these parts” he continued, “are either very brave or very foolish. Which are you?” Carbine wrenched the arrow from her holster and stood up, dusting herself down.
“Foolish… foolish to expect hospitality from rats!” she snapped bitterly. “I had hoped for a little more courtesy for a senior officer of the Freedom Fighters. It may interest you to learn” she added imperiously, “that I am – ”
“ – General Carbine, yes I know” the rat interrupted. “I’ve been tracking you for the last mile. I must say, you disappoint me. I’d expected a better awareness of what’s going on around you from a Freedom Fighter. You must be getting rusty… Incidentally, my name is Scramasax, for what it’s worth” His nose twitched irritably. “So, General… what brings you here, so far from your usual stamping ground?” Carbine stared at him levelly.
“What business is it of yours?” she demanded. Scramasax cocked an eyebrow.
“My business involves killing people who don’t answer my questions” he replied mildly. Carbine nodded thoughtfully.
“I’m looking for the Family.” The rat looked surprised.
“Now what would a nice girl like you want with a bunch of ruffians like them, hmm?”
“That is a military secret” the General insisted, and then grinned, “and if you kill me, you’ll never know what it is.” Scramasax shrugged.
“Well, that would seem to place us at a bit of an impasse. I suppose in that case, I’d better take you to meet the Family, then!” Carbine frowned.
“You’re in contact with the Family? But you’re a rat!” Scramasax shook his head.
“Your biology lessons have obviously paid off, but before you blind me with classifications, you’d better follow me. Come!” he instructed.
Scramasax led Carbine further along the mountain pass, before they stopped, and he insisted she was blindfolded.
“We’re leaving the pathway, now” he explained. “Got to keep things a bit secret.” Carbine reluctantly agreed and, expecting the rat to stab her in the back or pitch her into a crevasse at any moment, she took his hand as he led her carefully along a winding track. At last he removed the blindfold, and she stood blinking in the light at the entrance to a half ruined monastery-like building that showed signs of amateur repair. Almost before her eyes were used to the light again she was plunged into the gloomy interior of the building. As her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, shadowy figures began to take shape. There were more rats, and Sand Raiders and mice… a whole motley crew. One of them stepped forward, handsome and brown-furred, short and lightly built by Cave Mouse standards and dressed, like his fellows, in loose, dust-coloured robes like desert nomads. Carbine glanced around, looking for the comfort of something familiar, but there was nothing… even Scramasax seemed to have vanished. She turned instead to the mouse, who smiled at her.
“Well, well! Brother Scram seems to have brought us quite a catch” he observed, and added ironically, “We are most honoured by your presence amongst us, General”. Carbine drew herself up.
“I have to say, I had hoped for better treatment, but then I had no idea that I would find mice mixing with such… diverse company.”
“Diverse company, is it? You hear that, lads?!” There a roar of laughter from the shadowy figures.
“She be a right proud’un, you have there, brother!” one of the Sand Raiders called mockingly. The mouse laughed.
“Right enough, Angarrack.” He gave a small smile. “My apologies, General. We are a rough sort of folk with a rather crude sense of humour, by and large. My name is Falx, and you find yourselves in the bosom of the Family.”
“So I understand. Not what I expected to find, I must say.” Falx nodded.
“We are, as you say, a diverse company. ‘Bring me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breath free’ as I believe they say on Earth. We’re all outcasts, social misfits one way or another. Huddling together for companionship.” Carbine put her head on one side.
“Bless. You make it sound so sweet. But there’s one part of the picture missing.”
“And that is…?”
“The part about you being elite assassins.” Falx’s eyebrows shot up.
“Assassins? General, you make us sound like hired murderers.”
“And you aren’t precisely that?”
“Killing is a serious business, General” said a new voice, a female one, severely. “It is to be done only when strictly necessary.” Carbine turned. A female mouse had appeared and walked up behind them.
“My sister, Falcata” Falx explained.
“You really are all one big happy family, aren’t you” Carbine observed dryly. Falx gave her a blank look, and Carbine blinked. “I’m sorry, she really is your sister?”
“She can speak for herself” Falcata interjected sharply. “And yes, I am”.
“I’m sorry, it can be rather confusing” Falx apologised. “It was felt that using familial terms would engender a better sense of community.”
“How quaint” Carbine muttered. “And the bows and blades – I suppose they hark back to a better way of life in the past, too.” Falcata nodded slowly.
“Possibly” she admitted, “but mainly we use them because they kill virtually silently. There’s no muzzle flash or detonation with a sword.” Carbine laughed sardonically.
“And you say you’re not assassins”.
“We’re not” insisted Falx. “We prefer to think of ourselves as… I think humans would call us an Order of Chivalry. We like to maintain a certain sense of honour in what we do.”
“Really” the Martian general replied dubiously. “Well then, sir knight, it may interest you to know that I believe I have a quest for you.”
Arbiter
..hrm.. Okay I like this.. a lot. XD I'll start working on the sketched soon as I finish reading later today :)
"There are three things you can count on...."
"Your brains, your bros, and your bikes?" Vandal asked.
"No, Hunger, Thirst, and never a bathroom when you need it." Jacket grumbled.