Chapter 17: Father Ben

It was the sound of voices and the familiar smell of bikes that woke Ben up. Oh, shit. The Leathernecks got us. His whole body hurt and it was hard to think, but something in that equation didn't seem right. Why are we still alive?

He felt a damp rag press against his forehead, and the light touch of a woman's hand brush against his jaw. It sent his addled brain reeling in confusion, but after a moment he came to the sleepy conclusion that if some one was tending to his wounds, then they must have gotten away and couldn't be in that much trouble. He relaxed, still half asleep.

His eyes closed, Ben managed a light smile. "Don't stop, Lady Grace, that feels good." The hand stopped for a moment then pulled away. Ben reached out blindly until he felt a leg. He rubbed it, feeling the taut muscles beneath it and smiled. "Just because I'm awake doesn't mean you have to stop."

"Actually, Ben, I think it does."

Ben blinked. That's not Lara's voice. It had an American accent, and it was lower, like it had been soaked in whiskey. Ben opened his eyes and squinted, only able to see a feminine silhouette. Other than maybe Flo -wherever she was hiding, it had damn well better have been a long way from here- the last person he had expected to see tending to his wounds was Maureen Corley. He snatched his hand away from her leg like it had been burned.

He pushed himself up painfully onto his elbows. "Mo? What are you doing here?"

With strong hands she helped Ben sit up. "I'm tending to your ugly hide again, that's what, you crusty old biker."

"Yup." Ben rubbed his head and winced. His whole body ached. "Just like old times." He blinked and looked around, trying to take in the scene. The two of them were in a steep sided gully, and a number of small campfires winded their way along its floor. Around the fires were a number of motorcycles and people, about twenty or so. Ben looked at Mo, confused. What the hell was going on? Who were these guys, and -more importantly- where in hell was Lady Grace?

He looked at Mo. she was wearing her old Vulture colours. Ben had to admit that she looked a hell of a lot more natural in her turtle neck and leather vest than she ever did in a business suit. "Mo, what's going on?"

"I got a call this morning, from Lara Croft," Mo told him. Her face was enigmatic in the distant fire light. "She said that the two of you were going to go against the Leathernecks today, and if we wanted a piece of it we should meet about five miles north of Fort Kennedy at midnight tonight."

Ben blinked. Lara had done what? Why? When? He wasn't sure if he should be angry at her or thank her. Confused, he pushed his feelings back and tried to get more information. "So you went to Suzi and called up the Vultures, huh?" He looked around, counting bodies. "There's more than just Vultures here."

"The Leathernecks hit every one pretty bad, Ben." He couldn't see her face, but her voice was sad. "Suzi figured that every one would want to get some payback, so she got the word out to all the gangs."

"Hmm." Ben's mind was racing. Two bikers against sixty was a lost cause, but twenty some was a possibility.

"So who's here?" He tried to keep his voice casual.

Mo stirred the ground with her finger. "Suzi and the Vultures, some Rottwheelers and a few Dragons."

Normally you couldn't get two gangs together without having a pissing contest over a million old slights and grudges. Tonight there four here, if he including himself as a Polecat. "How many?"

"Including you and me, twenty seven."

"Twenty six." Ben said flatly. "You ride a desk now. You shouldn't be part of this."

Maureen flared with anger. "I may wear a suit during the day, Ben, but I'm still a biker." With that fire in her eyes there was no doubt of that. "These guys killed a lot of people who were friends of mine." She poked Ben in the chest to make her point. "I'm in." Her voice brooked no argument.

Ben had learned with Lady Grace not to bother fighting a woman when she had that tone in her voice. Besides, it seemed pretty obvious that Mo was still tough where it counted. She'd hold her own. "With Lady Grace that makes it twenty eight."

She gave Ben a curious look. "Who?"

"Lara."

Maureen gave Ben a long, considering look. "I have to admit, Ben, the two of you ... I never saw that coming."

Ben gave a sour chuckle. "Me either."

"Does she make you happy?" she asked quietly.

Ben thought a moment before answering. Happy? Since he'd met Lara he'd been to hell and back. His mentor had been killed, his gang and his best friend rubbed out over some sort of chemical smuggling pipeline, and Ben himself had been almost killed more than a few times. But despite all that, there was really only one answer. "Yeah, she does."

"I'm glad." Mo said. She reached over and squeezed his hand.

"Me too." Why am I putting up with all this touchy feely crap? Ben thought. I must have hit my head pretty hard to sit here talking out my feelings, with Mo of all people. Ben shook his head in disgust. Brain damage. It had to be.

She seemed to sense that the moment was getting too maudlin. They sat for a moment in awkward silence, then Mo slapped her palms on her thighs and got noisily to her feet. "Sooo, are you going to tell me what this whole thing is about? Who these Leathernecks are and what they're up to?"

Turning a deaf ear to his aching bones and shrieking muscles, Ben stood up. "I don't know," he admitted reluctantly. It pissed him off. After all he and Lara had been through, he still didn't have half the answers he wanted. He knew enough, however, to kick some ass. His voice turned grim. "But I know their numbers, I know where they're gonna go, and I know when they're gonna leave"

Beside him Mo shrugged. "Sounds like you know enough to me."

Ben frowned and looked around the darkness. "I guess." Where was Lady Grace? She'd obviously gotten him away from the blown up semi, but now she was gone.

"So." Mo's voice snapped him back to their conversation. "We came for a fight, Ben. Are you gonna give us one?" Her voice had a violent edge to it.

Ben looked at her and frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?"

She gave him a thin smile. "I mean every one knew that you were Father Torque's heir apparent."

Oh really? Ben raised his eye brows. I guess everyone knew but me.

"You know what we're going against." Mo continued. "Are you going to lead us into a rumble with the Leathernecks or not?"

"I can't do that," Ben protested. "I'm just a biker without a gang. I've fought against these guys." His gesture took in the entire camp. "They won't let me lead them."

"Yeah, they will." Mo insisted, her blue eyes filled with determination. "No one else can, Ben. No one has been through what you have, or knows the Leathernecks as well as you." She looked at Ben earnestly. "You have to lead us."

With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Ben knew she was right. "That's was Torque's position," he argued feebly, "not mine."

"Torque is dead, Ben." Hearing it from her lips didn't make the words hurt any less. "We need a new Father, and no one else can fill his shoes."

Ben looked off into the distant moonlight, at a loss for words. In a dusty part of his brain, Ben had always knew that some day he would inherit Father Torque's position among the bikers. But not like this, and not now...

"That would make me..." his voice trailed off. He couldn't say the words.

"Father Ben." Mo finished for him. "It suits you."

"It doesn't sound right," he grumbled. When she said the words aloud, though, Ben felt the responsibility come down like an engine block on his shoulders. He also knew that he couldn't buck the job. Not now. Not with the future of all of the bikers -all his bikers- at stake.

He heard as well as saw her smile. "Get used to it, Father Ben."

Ben grimaced. Well, there's no point sitting around waiting for grass to grow. "What time is it?" He asked, walking over to a clear flat space near the edge of the gully. It was as good a place as any.

"Just after one." Hmm. That trucker had said that they weren't leaving until four. That leaves me around three hours to scrape together some kind of plan...

Ben stretched his muscles, ignoring the anguished groans from his various body parts. He could lay back and let his body heal later, but not now. He put two fingers to his lips and let out a loud, piercing whistle. Around the gully, all conversation ceased and everyone's head swivelled to Ben.

A bike's head lamp came on, illuminating Ben in its beam. His mouth suddenly dry, for a moment Ben had no idea of what to say. Another headlamp turned on, blinding him. He put his hand up to shield his eyes. "Get that thing out of my face or I'll crack your head open." Ben would normally have objected to the glare of the headlamps. A headlight travelled pretty far at night, and they were in hostile territory, but they were five miles away from Fort Kennedy, with a mountain between him and the Leathernecks. Gunny had said that he wasn't sending out any patrols and they were in the bottom of a steep gully.

It seemed to break the ice. The collected biker's gave a chuckle and the light swerved to splash against the rock at Ben's back. In the reflected light he could see the several leather jackets and chains that made up his 'flock.'

He couldn't put it off any more. Taking in a deep breath, Ben began to speak. "All right, listen up." He cracked his knuckles to hide his nervousness. "Some company called WCC had some sort of secret depot built at the old Fort Kennedy site. They've got all these tanks of chemicals there, and they've put together a convoy to take them south of the border to Santa Ana in about three hours."

A voice from behind the light piped up. "Santa Ana? What the hell are they gonna do with it there?"

Ben frowned at where he heard voice come from. Just what I need. Comments from the peanut gallery. "Have a bath," he snapped. "How the hell should I know?" Ben ground his teeth. "Look, I don't know what all this is about, but-"

Another voice, this one feminine and very familiar spoke up. "I do." Ben rolled his eyes. Trust Lady Grace to make a dramatic entrance.

Every head swivelled to the dusty and curvaceous form of Lara Croft as she stepped into the light. She was wearing Ben's leather jacket. He had to admit that it looked a hell of a lot better on her than it did on him. She held Betsy lightly in one hand. So that's where she went. He gave her a flat look as she walked up to him. "You want to fill me in, Lady Grace?"

She handed Ben his rifle and sat down on a nearby rock with a smooth, fluid motion. She kept the jacket.

"Actually," she said in her quiet voice, "it wasn't until you mentioned their destination in Mexico that it all made sense."

Ben folded his arms and frowned down at her. "So why did my boys and a lot of good bikers die?" Behind the lights, he could hear a few angry grumbles.

Lara was, as always, unflappable. She sat on the rock like she was ruling over her court and began to speak in prim tones. "Where would you like me to begin?"

"The beginning."

"Well, I believe that would be about the turn of the millennium."

Ben could almost hear twenty seven pairs of eyes rolling. Only Lara would start this whole thing with a history lesson. "We don't got all day, Lady Grace."

Lara raised her eye brows and looked at him coolly. "Bear with me on this, Ben."

He felt about an inch tall under gaze and motioned for her to continue.

She adopted a kind of lecturing tone and Ben sighed. This was going to take a while. "As you all may or may not know, in the late nineteen nineties, the economies of several South East Asian nations bottomed out, which threatened many of the first world nations."

"Yeah. The Ninety Nine depression." [Author's Note: I should probably change it to the '09 depression!] Ben interrupted, trying to get a move on with things. "What has that go to do with all of us?"

She gave him a patient look. "Well, as you may also know, in an effort to preserve the value of their national dollar, the United States instituted a series of very stiff trade tariffs on all imports and exports." The subject matter was dull enough to dry paint, but whether it was the way she said it in her high class accent or they were just ogling her, the assorted bikers gave Lara their rapt attention. "It was thought at the time that if they could keep American jobs and products in the country, that they could stave off the economic upheaval."

Somewhere in the ring of lights an anonymous biker spoke up. "Yeah. It turned this part of the world into a regular paradise, didn't it?" There was a round of chuckles.

Lady Grace continued as is if she hadn't been interrupted. "Well, the wisdom of the policy not withstanding, one very similar to it is currently being implemented."

Where was this going? "So?"

"So," Lara continued coolly, "that means that America is a very tight market. If you are a small petro chemical company trying to expand, there is almost nowhere you can do so. The export tariffs make trading outside the country virtually impossible." All the bikers here knew about the stiff fines for taking goods over the border. All of them had made some cash over the years by smuggling.

Mo spoke up. "So why don't they open a subsidiary chemical plant in Mexico and bypass the tariff that way?"

She was standing, listening patiently outside the ring of lights. Ben had forgotten she was there. "There are Corley plants in Canada, France and Taiwan."

Ben blinked. There were? It had never occurred to him that Corley dealt with the rest of the world. Hell, before he had met Lady Grace, he hadn't really thought about there being a world outside the desert.

Lara pursed her lips in thought, then answered Mo's question. "Too much of an investment, I would think. WCC is a comparatively small corporation compared to Dow or Exxon." Her face hardened. "I saw the names painted on the chemical reservoirs in Fort Kennedy. Drexxol, an industrial solvent. Synthodran, a high temperature lubricant. These chemicals are all very much in demand in third world industry."

Ben didn't like where all this was heading. His voice was ugly when he spoke. "You mean that Father Torque and everyone else died so that some prick in a grass hut could get bootleg gas?" By the end he was yelling. His boys had been killed so a damn company could smuggle chemicals out from under the government's nose? It damn well wasn't fair

"That's not how I would have phrased it, but yes." Lara's look shared his pain. "I'm sorry Ben." It made Ben feel a little better, but not much.

A Rottwheeler spoke up. "It still don't make sense to me why they created the Leathernecks and went after us."

The question snapped Ben out of his sorrow. "I do," he replied. The dead were dead, and it was up to the living to avenge them. He had a job to do. They all did. "Draw a line between Fort Kennedy and the Mexican border. Whose turf do you cross?" He let the question hang for a moment. "I'll tell you. Polecat, Vulture, and everyone else whose been shot up by Gunny and his psychos."

There was a moment of silence as everyone digested what he had just said, There were more than a few angry murmurs. "So why start a gang war over this?" someone asked. "What kind of biker would become a corporate stooge, anyway?"