Payback

By Matt Plotecher

Prologue

          “Never doubt that a small group of dedicated citizens can
     change the world; in fact it’s the only thing that ever has.”
                              --Margaret Mead

     The building was located outside of the downtown area, being the 
sole structure over five floors in height for miles around. As if to
emphasize this point, a vacant, wild field was just across the road 
from the building, teeming with long grasses and other plant life. It
would have been a nice area for Maynard to look at, if the lab he was in
had a window to the outside world.
     It didn't, unfortunately.
     Maynard wished that they had a radio in the lab. It was at times like
this, late at night, that it would be welcomed. Everyone else had gone
home, except for him, Doug, and Ted. The trio of researchers were
working late on compiling a report for the head of the department
tomorrow, one which very might rock the foundations of their cozy, little
world of biology.
     Doug was currently at the copy center of the office building,
collating all the data into a final handout, while Ted had headed off for a
donut run to last them through the rest of the work hours, leaving
Maynard alone with his thoughts about their recent findings.
     A radio would be wonderfully distracting right about now.
     Fortunately, he was spared from further brooding by the door
opening up and Doug stepping through, the finished copies of the reports
in his hands.
     “Ted back?” he asked.
     Maynard shook his head. “He should be back in a few minutes,
though. I doubt it’s busy over there at this time of night.”
     Doug merely nodded as he took his seat in one of the swivel chairs
by the long workbench, which was sporting a wide array of electronic and
optical equipment, in addition to the computers.
     “How’d the copies turn out?” Maynard asked.
     “See for yourself,” Doug replied as he tossed him one of the small
booklets.
     Maynard flipped through it half-heartedly. All it did was constantly
assault his brain with the information they had found out, the information
which disturbed him more than just a little.
     “I still just can’t believe it,” he finally stated.
     Doug didn’t have to ask for clarification. “It’s scary, yeah, but
exciting.” He punched up the record sheets on the computer and started
typing. “I mean, come on, this is a discovery that could rewrite the
textbooks every child reads in school from now on.”
     “I know,” Maynard merely replied. “Animals that have sentience.”
He shuddered. “All of the sudden going to the zoo doesn’t seem like
such a wholesome pastime for the kids. It’d be like taking them on a
tour of a prison.”
     Doug nodded, not taking his eyes from his work. “Which is why
it’s important that we further this line of research. If we’re right, then
our whole code of ethics might be thrown out of whack. And it’s better
for us to deal with it now, then ignore it in order to not feel guilty.”
     Maynard frowned. Doug was the project leader because of his
devotion to science, but sometimes he seemed a bit too gung-ho.
Maynard could picture all of society being thrown into chaos over this,
especially if it pointed to a trend.
     “Besides,” Doug added, giving a quick glance to his reflective
colleague, “it’s not like this will just go away if we don’t publicize it.
The research has already been underway by other groups. We were just
lucky enough to make a major breakthrough, first.”
     Maynard knew Doug was right. Tests had been conducted with
various apes and chimps for years now, trying to determine what was
actual thought, and what was mere imitation. Recently, a group of
researchers had used a custom computer to act as a “translator” between
an ape and the research team, challenging the notion that a primate’s
learning capacity was merely that of a dog.
     A number of questions still needed to be answered, but the
implications were stunning. No longer were they simple creatures who
only thought of food and mating (and, Maynard had to admit, that
description fitted a number humans he knew as well), but thinking
creatures with far more complexity and emotion than the general public
had given them credit for.
     The animal rights activists, in particular, loved it.
     Doug, Ted, and Maynard had been assigned to test the waters of
several other kinds of animals, to see of this may just be a primate ability
or something far more widespread than previously thought. Nothing as
complicated as the computer that had been custom made for the ape was
being used, but still some basic tests designed to measure the amount of
learning capability of various types of animals.
     As the report explained clearly for the non-technical board members
who granted the funds for continuing the research -- with the brightly
colored pie charts that they seemed to enjoy so much -- *all* of the
animals they tested scored higher than hypothesized. In particular, their
star pupil, Glyph, did so well as to prompt Doug to ask for an increase in
funding, so they could rig up some sort of electronic means of
communication, similar to the computer used by the ape.
     The door opened, revealing Ted, holding a box of doughnuts in his
hand and looking distressed.
     “Something wrong?” Maynard asked, concerned.
     “Where’s Glyph?” Ted asked, glancing around.
     “In his cage. Why?” Now Doug had paused from his work to look
over at Ted.
     Ted took a deep breath, dropping the box. “No he’s not.”
     “What?”
     “I just came from there,” Ted grumbled, running a hand over his
short, brown hair. “Thought he might like a doughnut. His cage is
empty.”
     As with all inconceivable news, it took them all a few seconds
before they could react, as they envisioned all of the catastrophic
problems resulting from this. Then, as one, they tore out of the room,
down the hall, and into the animal lab. Gathering around Glyph’s cage,
they stared in on the empty area in shock.
     Ted called security. Doug called the police.
     Maynard merely glanced back at the report in his hands and
wondered if this wasn’t some sort of warning.

     Fifteen minutes later, two of the city’s finest arrived, paying their
dues on the late-night shift.
     Doug was there to greet them as they arrived, hands shaking so
badly that at first they thought he was hooked up to a caffeine I.V.
     “Thank God you’re here,” he said a bit shakily, still trying to
come to grips with the theft. “My name’s Doug. Doug Heron.”
     “My name’s Officer Kirby, and this is Officer Muldoon. You
called about a missing pet?” Kirby asked.
     “No,” Doug replied, a bit angry. “Glyph is not a *pet*. He’s a
highly valuable research animal. And he was stolen.”
     “Sorry,” Kirby apologized, somewhat surprised.
     “Where’d it take place at?” Muldoon asked, his notebook open
and pencil out.
     “Upstairs,” Doug answered, “on one of the science floors here.
I’ll take you up.” He led them over to one of the elevators, explaining
along the way. “It was one of my colleagues, Ted, who first found Glyph
missing. He hoped that we had merely moved Glyph, instead of what
actually happened.”
     “Glyph?” Kirby asked as they boarded the elevator. “That the
animal’s name?”
     Doug nodded.
     “What is it?”
     Doug merely smirked and pulled a picture from his lab coat,
showing it to them as if it were a badge of honor. “*That*, officers, is
Glyph. And I think you can tell that it would be extremely hard to just
misplace this fellow. He’s a big boy.” He stabbed the button for the
16th floor.
     At first, Kirby and Muldoon just stared at the photo.
     “Where’d you get ‘im?” Muldoon finally asked. “They don’t
sell those at pet stores.”
     “Flown in from South America. A trapper down there had
originally caught Glyph with some other animals for a zoo, but then the
zoo didn’t make its budget, so the order was canceled. The trapper
decided to call around and see if anyone else wanted his stock. He
contacted our company, who then told us. We decided a few would be a
good addition to our diversity of animals for our own studies, and so
Glyph was shipped up to us, with the others. That was about a year ago.”
     “Hey man, just how big *is* he?” Kirby said, still a bit astonished
at the size of the animal.
     “Glyph? Oh, he’s one of the largest examples of his species
you’ll find. Last physical placed Glyph at 6 feet in length and topping
the scales at 160 pounds.”
     Kirby whistled in respect.
     Doug chuckled. “Most are only 5 feet long and 130 pounds, so
Glyph is probably in the top 1% of his class.”
     “You think that might have prompted anyone to steal him?” Kirby
prompted.
     Doug waited as the elevator dinged, and the doors opened. As he
led the police to the animal lab, he answered, “Not offhand, no. The only
people I can think of who’d want Glyph that badly would either be a zoo
or a private animal collector.”
     Kirby nodded. “Unless the zoo has some overenthusiastic
zookeepers, we can safely rule them out. You know any collectors?”
     Doug shook his head. “No. At least, none that showed a passing
interest in Glyph. They tend to go for the more exotic animals, mainly the
big cats. Cougars, pumas, tigers, that sort of thing.”
     “What kind of experiments do you run?” Muldoon queried.
“Maybe someone thought it was animal cruelty.”
     "We prefer to call them tests," Doug said, a bit crisply. "Use the
word 'animal' in the same sentence as 'experiment' these days and
people assume that you rig your animals up to machines and drugs or 
smear cosmetics over their backsides."
     Kirby and Muldoon were a bit taken aback. Must’ve touched a
nerve.
     “The tests we run,” Doug went on, “are to determine intelligence
capacity in wild animals. We prefer animals that have been caught fresh
from the wild, or at least that haven’t been in captivity for too long.
Ranging from the commonplace to the rare, we attempt to gain a ballpark
estimate on an animal’s innate, raw learning potential. Animals that
have been throughly domesticated might just be responding to certain
signals, like Pavlov’s dogs. We’re not here to train them or tame them,
just see if they naturally have the capability to learn or if it’s something
that man needs to guide them along with.”
     Muldoon jotted down notes while Kirby went over various
possibilities. “So how about any competitors? Anyone who wants you to
fail?”
     “Not that I know of,” Doug replied. “A few aren’t comfortable
with the project’s goal, but they’ve never even filed a complaint with
the department against us.”
     Arriving at the lab, Doug open the door for the two officers, letting
them in first. Ted and Maynard looked up from the desks they were
sitting at.
     “Oh, good, you’re here,” Ted said as he shook hands with the
officers.
     “Officer Kirby and Officer Muldoon,” Kirby said, indicating
himself and his partner. “Doug here has filled us in on most of the basics,
it seems.”
     “That the cage?” Muldoon pointed to a large, empty cell to the side.
     “Yeah,” Maynard replied. He motioned to the keypad on the side
wall. “Electronically locked. It’s alarmed, but we never heard it.”
     “Either an inside job or a hacker,” Muldoon nodded, writing it all
down.
     “Who would want to go to that kind of trouble?” Ted asked, a bit
skeptical.
     Kirby chuckled. “Probably to same one who decided to swipe
Glyph in the first place.”
     Ted frowned. He hadn’t thought of that.
     “Why is he named Glyph, anyway?” Muldoon finally pitched.
Seemed like a strange name.
     Doug smiled. “You could say it was his forefather’s name.”
     “And it beat the one the trapper had used,” Ted added.
     “Hmm?” Muldoon looked over to Ted. “What was that?”
     “Roughly translated, it was ‘Monster’.”
     “Oh,” the officer replied. “Yeah, fun.”
     “Who’s this?” Kirby asked, noticing the large cage next to the
empty one. A giant anteater was within, currently asleep.
     “That’s Cyril. She and Glyph were kept together since they were
trapped, and seemed to get along well, so we decided to keep them
together.”
     “Cyril... as in Cyril Sneer?” Muldoon couldn’t help but laugh.
     The researchers blinked. “You’ve seen that show?”
     Muldoon nodded. “It was a fun one, from the bits I caught. But why
not Cedric?”
     “We liked Cyril better. Kind of a dark universe Scrooge McDuck.”
     “Anyways,” Kirby stated, a bit strained, trying to bring the
investigation back to the forefront. How could anyone get so involved in
a cartoon show?
     “I called security,” Doug mentioned in response to Kirby. “But they
said they never saw anything out of the ordinary, either on the patrols or
on the monitors.”
     “And Glyph is definitely out of the ordinary,” Muldoon chuckled,
to which Doug nodded.
     “They don’t patrol the parking levels as often, if at all.” Maynard
piped in. “And there’s only a few cameras. Someone might have tried to
sneak him out in a car or van.”
     “Sounds worth looking into,” Muldoon agreed, flipping his notepad
shut and tucking it away in his breast pocket. “I’ll go check it out, in
case any clues are around.”
     “I’ll go with you,” Ted offered. “You need a pass to get in and out
of there.”
     “Good idea,” Muldoon agreed. “You can probably spot any claw
marks from Glyph, too.”
     Ted chuckled a little, despite his nerves. “I’m no Sureluck Jones,
but anything to help find Glyph.”
     “I’ll talk with the security guys,” Kirby said, “in case we spot
anything on the tapes. They had to at least see someone leaving this room
with Glyph. Give me a buzz if you spot anything.”
     Muldoon nodded and headed out the door, Ted right behind him.
     “Must seem kind of strange,” the researched remarked. “Getting a
burglary like this.”
     Muldoon just laughed. “In this city? Buddy, you don’t know the
half of it.”
     Upon reaching the parking levels, Ted’s face lighted up within a
minute of stepping out of the elevator.
     “There!” he said, running forward and picking up a red collar.
“This was Glyph’s identification collar!”
     “Looks like it was torn off,” Muldoon observed.
     “Chewed off,” Ted added with a frown as examined it. “That’s
odd.”
     “There an attendant here?”
     “No, we have those automated gates. Scan your card to get in and
out. Attendants are only for visitors, during business hours.”
     Muldoon frowned. “Let’s take a quick look down by the gates.”
     Ted nodded as the two of them quickly walked towards the sole exit
of the parking levels. As they approached it, they didn’t see anything
wrong with the actual gates themselves, but just outside, Muldoon
thought he spotted something by the sidewalk.
     He pulled his flashlight out and shone it in the direction he was
looking, illuminating the manicured lawn nicely until he hit what had
caught his eye. Ted stared in disbelief.
     Almost mechanically, Muldoon pulled out his walkie-talkie and
turned it on as he walked towards the site. “Kirby? Muldoon, here.”
     “Muldoon!” Kirby’s voice was excited; having been partners for
over six years, Muldoon knew that Kirby found something both
important and unusual.
     “You found something on the tapes?”
     “Yeah! The guards didn’t see anything because they weren’t
watching a live feed -- someone had patched in a tape deck and was
playing a video of the animal lab for the past four hours!”
     “What?”
     “I got the tape right here in my hand, Muldoon. Someone had taken
the time to patch some wires from the security switchboard to a hidden
VCR behind a service hatch in the wall! Whoever kidnaped Glyph
didn’t just do this on a whim.”
     “I don’t think Glyph was kidnaped, Kirby. I found a big clue out
here, just past the parking garage gates.”
     “How big?”
     “Oh,” Muldoon and Ted stared down at the huge hole in the
ground, “easily three feet in diameter.”


Chapter One -- The Night Before

          A moment of thanks to F. A. Mesmer (1734-1815), inventor
     of hypnotism. Were it not for him, writers of adventure fiction would
     need to put motivation in their stories. We owe him so much.
                                             -- John Nowak


     “We’re gonna die!!”
     “Oh my God!!”
     “Goodbye mates!!”
     “Now why aren’t these brakes working?”
     The Rangermobile skidded and skipped along the rough city street,
gracefully flirting with utter destruction as it swerved and veered, almost
as if by whim, through the heavy traffic surrounding it.
     Chip, Dale, and Monterey yelled out such encouraging comments as
“Argh!” and “Save us!” -- Zipper was too busy hanging on for dear life
for such frills -- as each bounce brought them into another near head-on
collision with a car, van, or tractor-trailer truck. Fortunately, while
Gadget’s eyes were fixed on the underside of the dashboard, she was at
least keeping an ear on the road; when she heard them scream, she turned
the wheel in another direction, sending them away from death’s
awaiting cold embrace once more while she fiddled one-handed with the
mess of wires and cables behind the cork that acted as the base of the
steering wheel. Keeping her friends happy while she sorted out a minor
inconvenience; all in a day’s work!
     She popped back up to a driving position, swerving the
Rangermobile past another oncoming vehicle that outweighed them by
several hundred pounds.
     “Brakes working?” Chip asked hopefully, his knuckles almost as
white as his forced smile.
     “No, but I figure we’ll worry about it later, after we catch up to
Osiris.”
     Mistaking Chip’s whimper as a sign of agreement, she beamed as
they darted through the mass of speeding cars. Now that she was actually
watching where she was going, the safety of the ride rose dramatically,
with only one near-collision per minute instead of twenty-three.
     “Can’t we just let McDugell take it from here?” Dale suggested,
hoping it didn’t sound too much like plaintive plea it really was.
Sergeant McDugell and a few of the A.P.F. officers were ahead of them,
trailing the fleeing Osiris by only a few feet. Everyone except for the
Rangers were in R.C. cars, giving them better maneuverability on the
asphalt. The Rangermobile wasn’t as maneuverable or have as strong a
suspension system, but it comfortably seated all of the Rangers and,
thanks to the large battery, could go for months without needing to
replace the power source.
     Monterey bit his lip as they violently bounced over another pothole,
sending his stomach into spin cycle. He wished he hadn’t had that big
lunch, but he wasn’t planning on this so soon afterwards. The
entrapment had been going smoothly at first, after all.
     Osiris had escaped from the A.P.F. when Swarm demolished the
small headquarters they were holding him at. Everyone had been too busy
rebuilding since then to do much about his escape, but the case broke
when an informant revealed that Osiris had been seen on the West side of
town, looking for a mouse dentist. It was easy to guess why; after Gadget
knocked his teeth out in their last encounter, the hypnotist hadn’t been
able to use his entrancing voice anymore. He needed a pair of dentures if
he wanted to regain his ability, and those were hard to come by in the
rodent community. This was a good thing, as if Osiris ever did regain his
hypnotic powers, the A.P.F. would have headaches all over their
collective craniums.
     Upon hearing of Osiris being sighted, McDugell quickly put
together a sting, luring Osiris into thinking one of the A.P.F.’s officers
was actually a qualified dentist. Not wanting to take the chance of him
escaping again, the sergeant assembled a small group of officers, then
called in the Rangers for back-up. After all, the Rangers, particularly
Gadget, had a personal interest in getting Osiris back in a cell. Gadget
still didn’t like to think about how easily he had warped her mind into
attacking Monterey and Dale. If he was able to get in once, he would be
able to do so again. No way the Rangers wanted to take that risk.
     They were all too happy to wait in place behind the trashcan of the
dental office where Osiris was supposed to meet the officer.
Unfortunately, right as Osiris stepped in, so did one of the human
janitors, who turned on the lights. The man spotted the hiding rodents,
pointed and yelled to someone outside about needing to set traps. Their
cover nicely blown out of the water, the Rangers and the A.P.F. had to act
quickly to keep up with the fleeing criminal.
     Luck, however, was having a field day at the law enforcers expense,
as the hypnotist stumbled out of the building within sight of the parked
R.C. cars. Needing no keys for the doors (there weren’t any) or the
ignition system (ditto), it was an easy matter for Osiris to hop into the
first car in the line, switch it on, and take off. He may not have gotten his
dentures just yet, but he felt that his new set of wheels was adequate
compensation.
     Thus, the Rangers now found themselves careening recklessly down
the highway at top speed, dodging traffic and hoping that the
Rangermobile’s unfathomable rattling wasn’t a precursor to a sudden
and unwanted self-disassembly. The only one who wasn’t fearing for
dear life was Gadget; she was more concerned with the possibility of
hitting one of the potholes wrong and sending them into a roll. But she
was pretty sure it wouldn’t happen.
     Pretty sure.
     At the head of the pack, Osiris risked a quick look behind him,
cursing at his pursers. He turned his attention back to the remote control
which had been mounted to the dashboard, but didn’t see anyway to
make his own car put out any more speed. The superior suspension and
shocks of the R.C. racing car was outdistancing the Rangermobile, but
the cops were able to hold their position, just a few feet behind him.
     His initial ploy of losing them in the traffic wasn’t working. He
was dodging the cars as much as the cops were -- the human cars might
have been willing to stop or swerve on city streets, but the highway was
their turf, as the various small, animal-marked gravesites at roadkill spots
attested.
     Having been heading west the entire time, Osiris cursed again as he
saw the docks coming into view. He had been heading right for the ocean
without realizing it. Now he’d have to slow down and take the
sidestreets, or risk getting caught when the highway ended in a few miles.
Making a quick glance around, he jerked the controls to the side, cutting
his car across the highway and down to the nearest off-ramp. Sure
enough, those highly-annoying cops saw his quick exit and were able to
follow.
     The chase continued down the onramp and into the residential
streets, bringing the whole group into the small area of suburbia reserved
for used book stores and other small shops. The human cars in this area
shared the “take no prisoners” attitude of the highway, as well, and
everyone found themselves dodging traffic once more, although the total
amount of evading swerves called for was, at least, lower.
     The Rangermobile was fast catching up to the rest of the pack now;
the streets were smoother here, and the reduced need to dodge allowed
the speeding deathtrap the Rangers occupied to close the gap.
     “Guys, we got a problem,” Gadget admitted with a slight frown.
     As one, the rest of the Rangers made peace with their god.
     “Without the brakes, we’ll eventually overtake and pass right by
Osiris. And by the time I can turn us around, it’ll be too late to catch up
with them.”
     “Who cares about that creep!?” Dale asked, his eyes squeezed shut.
“How are we gonna stop without it making us all a smear on the
pavement!?”
     “I’ve never been one to push ya, luv,” Monterey added with a
wavering voice, “but this really would be a bonzer of a time to get some
brakes workin’!”
     “Hmmm...” Gadget thought carefully as they neared the fleeing
suspect’s vehicle. “Oh!” she suddenly shouted as inspiration hit. “Of
course! Why didn’t I think of it sooner?”
     Just as Gadget had prognosticated, they were about to speed right
by Osiris.
     “Think of what?” Chip asked Gadget, even though he feared the
answer.
     Rather than waste time explaining, Gadget showed him by suddenly
jerking the steering wheel over and slamming her foot squarely down on
the accelerator, driving the Rangermobile into full throttle as they
rammed solidly into the back of Osiris's car. Just as Gadget he hoped, the
impact jammed the front of the Rangermobile into the back of the R.C.
vehicle, lifting the front wheels off the pavement. True, this meant that she
couldn’t steer them anymore, but she felt this was an equitable trade for
making sure they didn’t lose the hypnotist in flight.
     The Rangers (minus Gadget) and Osiris screamed as one; the
Rangermobile was pushing the R.C. car faster than it was designed for,
causing it to make a series of highly disturbing noises and
electronic pops. What’s more, the rate at which they were moving, not
to mention the added weight on the back of the toy vehicle, made steering 
for Osiris an exceptionally difficult task.
     “He’s still not stopping,” Gadget observed with a frown. “This
could be problematic.”
     “That’s it,” Monterey finally stated, hoisting himself up from the
back seat. “If I’m gonna be served up to St. Peter as street pizza, I
wanna at least have a part in it.”
     He clambered up and over the front of the Rangermobile,
half-scrambling as he grasped tightly to each handhold. The rattling and
bouncing threatened to knock Monterey off at any second, and he knew
that hitting the ground at this speed would be a guaranteed entry in the
Most Undignified Ways to Die record book.
     “Gettin’ killed ‘cause I fell off a speedin’ skateboard,” he
muttered to himself. “Story of my life.”
     The flippant manner he adopted was working, however -- by taking
his mind off of the immediate danger of the situation, he was able to
think clearly and actually work his way over the precarious section where
the Rangermobile was connected to the car. All it would take was one slip
to drop him to the unyielding concrete rushing below.
     An experienced traveler, Monterey didn’t even hesitate as he
swung himself up and over the joint, careful not to accidentally hit it and
separate the two vehicles. Right now, this car was the best chance of the
Rangermobile and all of its passengers to come to a halt fully intact, and
Monterey was determined to see that through to such a conclusion.
     “Pardon me, mate,” Monterey called out over Osiris’ screaming,
“but I’ll have to ask to see yer license and proof of insurance!”
     The rogue hypnotist turned just in time to see Monterey launch
himself in an undignified tackle, landing squarely on the Osiris with a
thud. The two of them struggled in the confined space of the driver’s
seat, fighting over the controls.
     McDugell, in one of the R.C. cars, yelled for his fellow A.P.F.
officers to flank the vehicle, but not to get too close; he knew the Rangers
well enough not to endanger any more people than necessary in delicate
apprehensions such as these. He knew and respected the Ranger’s grace
and poise under fire.
     “Gimme the bloody wheel!” Monterey shouted, has he tried to shift
over for better leverage.
     Osiris grunted and tried to push the large mouse back. “Back off,
Ranger,” he snarled, “This isn’t going to end like the last time!” Despite
his attempt to sound tough, his lack of viable teeth softened the edge of
his tone considerably.
     “Why not? At least we improved yer voice pattern,” Monterey
taunted the dentally-handicapped criminal.
     Osiris merely grumbled as he twisted the steering wheel over to the
side, not caring about where they were going so much as not allowing
Monterey to dictate the course.
     Back on the Rangermobile, Gadget, Chip, and Dale, clung to
whatever they could so they weren’t thrown off by the constant shifting
and jerking from the dueling drivers in the car they were attached to.
Zipper, on the other hand, figured he had the best chance to actually do
something, as if he was knocked off the moving platform, he could at
least use his wings to prevent him from kissing the concrete.
     Crawling over to the back of the Rangermobile, Zipper was grateful
once again for his natural ability to stick to surfaces, making this
undertaking a bit more safer than usual, although that wasn’t saying
much. He pulled himself along steadily, finally coming up on the
“motor” of the transport.
     The Rangermobile was propelled by a hair dryer (slightly
“tweaked” by Gadget to up the power), which was powered by a large
lantern battery attached on the back. In order to keep the hair dryer firmly
in place, small belt straps were looped over both sides of the hair dryer,
securing it to the skateboard.
     Maneuvering himself over to one of those straps, Zipper strained
and yanked away at the buckle of it, slowly loosening it enough until its
small fastening bar popped free, and the slack end slipped out of the
buckle. Without anything to counter the strain equally, the hair dryer’s
other side easily slipped free from the other belt strap. The wiring used to
connect the hair dryer to the battery kept the beautician’s ancillary from
skittering off, but as Zipper had hoped, the hair dryer merely flailed
about, rather than provide any real push to the skateboard.
     Unfortunately, it was still running on full power, and Zipper caught
the full brunt of the air blast as it swung around by him, knocking him
clear of the Rangermobile and into a daze. Instinctively, he managed to
get his wings moving in time, preventing him from hitting the ground.
     The commotion drew Gadget’s attention, however, and she
slapped her forehead in embarrassment as she turned back around.
     “Well, duh!” she commented with a laugh. “I could have just
turned off the battery! Sheesh, is my face red....” She deftly flipped off
the power, and the hair dryer’s antics quickly died out as the power flow
stopped.
     “Better late than never,” Chip said with a shaky voice, trying to put
a positive spin on things.
     Gadget turned and shyly smiled a thanks to him; he took her paw in
his comfortingly, and was able to give it one affectionate squeeze before
the car and Rangermobile concatenation rammed head-on into the curb of
the street, catapulting everyone out and onto the sidewalk,
none-too-gently.
     Fortunately, they had been traveling much slower once Gadget shut
down the battery, thus resulting in the crash victims merely getting a bit
rattled, rather then sustaining any serious injuries.
     Osiris and Monterey Jack had seen the impact coming, and thus
were able to effectively roll with the crash, coming to their senses before
the others. While Osiris’ primary concern was flight, Monterey’s was
the Rangers -- he glanced over his shoulder, and was relieved to see they
all were still intact, if a bit bruised. Zipper was catching up with them, as
well as McDugell and the rest of the A.P.F.
     Osiris wasted no time as he darted away in the opposite direction of
the approaching back-up. He knew that he couldn’t outrun them on the
sidewalk, especially as long as the A.P.F. still had working vehicles. His
best bet was to try and lose them in one of the shops. He ducked into the
first one that had its door propped open, but not before Monterey had
spotted him.
     “C’mon mates!” He waved to the rest of the posse. “The blighter
went in here!” he shouted as he led the charge into the store. The Rangers
were right behind him, and while half of the A.P.F. climbed out of their
transports, the other half waited outside should the culprit try and
double-back.
     Upon entering the small store, the Rangers found themselves in a
gaming and hobby shop. The front half of the store had a few rows of
various rule books and supplements for numerous gaming systems, while
the middle of the store was devoted to dice, miniatures, paints, and other
props. The back was partially closed off by a wall, and the sounds of a
game being run could be heard:
     “If the dice went off the book, you have to reroll!”
     “No way! You’re just sore because you haven’t rolled above a 36
all game!”
     “Any sign of him?” McDugell asked as he and the other officers
caught up to the Rangers.
     “‘Fraid not, mate,” Monterey answered with a frown.
     “Let’s check along the edges and work inwards,” Chip suggested.
“Maybe we can flush him out of the store and into the rest of the officers
waiting by the curb.”
     The others nodded and quickly spilt up, the A.P.F. taking one side
of the store while the Rangers took the other.
     “Hey, wow!” Dale remarked in awe as the passed by one of the
racks. “There’s a supplement for the old Top Secret/S.I. game!
Wowzers! And still unwrapped, too! Talk about an agricultural find!”
     “First, Dale,” Chip pleasantly said through clenched teeth, “it’s
‘archaeological’, and second, you’re supposed to be looking for
Osiris!”
     “Well, golly, Chip,” Gadget commented, “given that our quarry has
the name of the Egyptian god of the dead, Dale’s not too far off by
looking for archaeological signs, in general.”
     Chip’s stunned expression to Gadget conveyed his thoughts
clearly: who’s side are you on?
     Her reply was merely to grin and wink.
     Dale, still pursing the racks of classic role-playing game systems,
hardly noticed, but nodded absently all in the same. “Yeah, thanks
Gadget. Besides, I *am* looking for Osiris! He might be up in one of
those--Ooo! Wowie-zowie! Star Frontiers! Man, those sather were some
nasty baddies!”
     Chip groaned and decided not to waste time pressing the issue.
     The group stayed close to the wall, everyone -- except Dale --
scanned the area for any telltale movements or clues as to the
whereabouts of their adversary.
     Zipper squeaked out that it was possible Osiris may have found a
knothole or something to escape from.
     Chip frowned, but Zipper had a point. These older shops had spots
to slip into the walls, or under the floorboards, and if Osiris had happened
across one early on, he would be long gone before anyone would ever
know. Nevertheless, Chip felt it was a low possibility.
     “I don’t think he’s had enough time, Zipper,” Chip explained as
they continued their search. “We came in quickly behind him, so he’s
probably hiding somewhere close by, not moving so as to remain
inconspicuous. All the same,” Chip turned to the Zipper, “you can fit
behind the wall bookcases easier than us; check to see if you see him
back there, or maybe a possible portal he might have been able to slip
through.”
     Zipper saluted and took off, leaving the four of them to slowly
move deeper into the store. They had already gotten past the front area,
and the lack of gaming titles garnered them some more actual
attentiveness from Dale, even though he was still eyeing the various dice
and miniatures now surrounding them.
     Gadget signaled for them to halt, the silently pointed up to the area
behind the cash register. The human tending the counter (reading a comic
book and eating a twinkie, actually) wasn’t paying too much attention
around him, but the others realized, as had Gadget, that if they were
spotted, it were surely blow any chance they had of finding Osiris, just
like they had their ambush blown back at the sting. Most humans had bad
reactions to spotting stray rodents in their shops, particularly when
customers were still present.
     “Let’s move along the base of the counter,” she suggested in a
whisper, to which the others nodded. They had a large, open space to
cross, but with the clerk’s attention elsewhere, they were able to make a
bizarre crossbreed of a run and a tip-toe over to the actual counter
without rousing any suspicion.
     That’s when Dale pointed and yelled, “There he is!”
     The rest of the team shivered as they could sense the store
proprietor lean over the counter and stare down at the small cluster of
rodents that had entered his store, his shadow completely covering them.
     Having been satisfied on discovering the source of the chattering
that had distracted him from his reading material, the human leaned back
out of sight, not giving the rodents another thought.
     As long as one doesn’t touch their dice, gamers tend to be a
remarkably placid lot.
     “Sorry,” Dale mumbled after the crisis had been avoided. “But I
*did* see the crummy hypnotist! And it doesn’t look like he spotted us
yet.”
     “Where is he?” Gadget asked, scanning the tops of the tables that
she could see.
     “Over there,” Dale pointed to one of the many fold-out tables
displaying various miniatures. “In the Battletech display.”
     “Huh?” was the general response.
     Dale sighed at their ignorance. “Second table over from the
Warhammer 40K figures.”
     “What?”
     Rolling his eyes heavenward, Dale was a bit despondent that his
friends had somehow lived this long without learning even the simplest
basics of gaming. Some people....
     “Let me put it this way,” Dale explained patiently. “You see the
table that has all those painted battlemechs -- I’m sorry, I mean ‘robot
figurines’, for you uncultured types. It’s the table with no human
miniatures on it. At least, not in sight. They might have some
mechwarriors past the edge. Hard to see from the floor....”
     “Oh!” Gadget stated, spotting it. “You mean the table in the middle
row, three over from the right!”
     “Ah!” Chip, Monterey, and Zipper agreed as their eyes settled on
the location in question.
     “Duh...” Dale responded, unable to keep from feeling pity for them.
     They couldn’t spot Osiris, but if he moved away from the edge,
their vantage point would make it unable to see him.
     “Zipper, you know the drill,” Chip ordered with a smile as he and
the others ran along the floor.
     Zipper made a quick trumpeting sound before dashing off, flying up
to get a better view of the tabletop.
     “Gee, Chip, we should signal McDugell,” Gadget pointed out as
they reached the table leg. “I mean, that way we can try and herd him if
he tries to make a break for it.”
     Chip nodded. “Good idea, Gadget. Monterey?”
     “Aw,” the large Aussie frowned, “why dontcha send Gadget to get
‘em? She already belted his teeth out, and all I ever got to do was knock
him upside the head once. Off-balance, too!”
     Chip tried to refrain from smiling and failed. “Fair enough. Why
don’t you shimmy on up first, then, so you can get dibs on him?” He
eloquently motioned to the stainless steel table leg; sheer and featureless.
     Monterey glanced up it, thought about his possibility of climbing up
successfully, then weighed that against the possibility of him slipping and
falling from the lack of grip he could get (and all those cheese samplers
he’s had wouldn’t help, either). He opted to follow the adage of
discretion being the better part of valor.
     “I’d better go find McDugell,” he noted with a insightful nod, as if
he had originally suggested it. “You two get on up there, and give him a
bonzer of haymaker for me, ya hear?”
     Chip saluted with a flair. “Righty-o, Monty.”
     “Although I generally prefer peaceful resolutions to overt violence,”
Gadget said as a side note as she started to climb, “I’ll gladly drop the
etiquette and clobber him at your request, Monty.” She still hadn’t quite
forgotten the true “mind games” Osiris had played on her. She even still
had his teeth on that necklace, tucked away in her drawer with various
other arts and crafts.
     “She’s such a sweet gal,” Monterey affectionately whispered as he
headed off, wiping away a parental tear of pride. “They grow up so
fast....”
     Chip and Dale followed Gadget, and the three smaller and more
agile Rangers managed to scale the table leg without too much difficulty,
although it was slower going than they would have liked. Nevertheless,
the reached the top and gracefully swung out and up over the edge of the
table, skillfully landing on their feet.
     Zipper, who had been keeping a silent vigil, immediately noticed
them as they crouched behind a row of Atlas miniatures for cover.
Glancing over to make sure Osiris wasn’t yet aware of the new players
on the field, the spirited fly sped over to his teammates, silently gesturing
over to where their quarry was hidden.
     Peeking up over the pewter figures, the Rangers could spot the
twitching tail of Osiris as he crawled along behind a row of scaled trees,
over the green felt that represented grass in miniature games.
     Dale glanced back over to the human. He probably wouldn’t be
too happy if they nicked or otherwise damaged any of the paint jobs on
the miniatures, but he was still too engrossed in the trials and tribulations
of Captain Spiffo to notice. That’s when Dale spotted a lucky charm
next to the cash register, and grinned.
     “Zipper,” he quietly motioned for the fly. Zipper lightly flew over,
at which point Dale whispered something in the insect’s ear. Gadget and
Chip guessed it was a plan, but weren’t entirely one hundred percent
hopeful considering the source.
     When Dale finished, Zipper chuckled, nodded, and took off to the
counter top. Dale turned back to the others.
     “We gotta keep him occupied until Zipper gets back,” he informed
them. “We need to keep him on this table.”
     “Well,” Gadget said, “if one of us could keep his attention
somehow, the others might be able to sneak up around him, and try and
cut off any avenues of escape.”
     “Assuming he doesn’t bolt at the first hint that someone else is up
here,” Chip pointed out with a frown.
     “No sweat,” Dale chortled. “I’ll confuse him.”
     “What?” Chip asked.
     “Relax, Chipper; I’ve been confusing people long before I met
you.”
     On that truism, Dale carefully headed off to the side of Chip and
Gadget. The leader of the Rangers turned to the inventor and shook his
head.
     “He worries me,” he simply said.
     “Good,” Gadget smiled in relief. “That means everything is going
along as planned.”
     Chip took a deep breath and reminded himself that Gadget and
Dale’s brainwaves operated with their own separate set of rules. They
sneaked off in opposite directions to box the fugitive in.
     Dale crept along the rows, carefully selecting out four miniatures,
tucking two under each arm (and taking care not to scratch them at
all). He steeled himself for a moment, then sprinted up, leapt over the
rows between him and Osiris, landing formidably in front of the suddenly
startled convict.
     “Halt!” Dale said as he quickly lined up the miniatures in front of
him, talking almost too fast for Osiris to follow. “By order of Lance 237
of the Unit 53 from the Captain Daviddad division of the Mercenary Unit
Kelp’s Hounds under contract to House Marie to arrest and apprehend
the infiltrators sent by Clan Ghost Bird and backed up by the official
heavy lance of a battlehammer warhammer and two rifleman in
accordance that Mitch said no more assault lances or he’d never bring
the spinach dip again and we really liked the taste of it so the big baby got
his way.”
     Osiris could only stare on in wonder.
     He was knocked roughly to the ground as a bag of dice landed on
him, dropped by Zipper from above. The fly let out a huge gasp --
lugging that weight from the countertop to here required just about all the
strength he could muster up.
     Dale grinned, turned to face the human, and whistled loudly, then
yelled to the others, “Jump clear!”
     The Rangers weren’t sure what Dale meant, but since he himself
was leaping for safely off the tabletop, they felt obliged to follow his lead.
     The human behind the counter glanced up at the noise, and saw a
mouse struggling under a dice bag. The eyes of the human flew open as
he recognized the bag as his own. Defying all the Rangers’ knowledge
of human mobility, the human flew over the counter to his sacred dice
bag instantaneously, snatching it free from the harmful vibes of the
mouse while the other hand deftly finger-punted the dazed rodent off of
the table and across the room, where it smacked harshly into the large
plane glass window facing the street.
     The human breathed a sigh of relief at the discovery that the bag
was unopened -- the dice themselves had not be tainted by the touch of
another creature. Still, in order to chase away as much jinx residue that
had undoubtably come in contact with the all-holy dice bag, the human
tenderly cradled the bag up into his shirt pocket, next to his beating heart.
     Love would heal the karmic wounds.
     The rodents, meanwhile, had seen Osiris arc ungracefully over them
before he hit the window and slid down, and thus both the Rangers and
A.P.F. were able to converge on the criminal quickly.
     “What was that all about?” Chip asked Dale as they raced over with
the others.
     “The only thing that can be more dangerous than coming between a
mother bear and her cubs,” Dale explained proudly, “is coming between
a gamer and his dice.”
     Gadget rolled her eyes. “Luck,” she remarked with a bit of a wry
tone.
     Dale only grinned in response.
     “Your flying form was good, but your landing needs work,”
McDugell commented to the weary Osiris as the A.P.F. quickly bound his
hands and feet securely. “As a parting gift, though, you get a free stay in
the slammer, courtesy of the A.P.F.”
     The large squirrel frowned when he saw that his audience was still
recovering from hitting the window. It looked like it had really hurt, after
all.
     Gadget carefully checked his eyes and neck. “He’ll be fine; he’s
just in shock right now,” she said, almost disappointedly. The officers
blinked a bit, never having heard Gadget’s lack of overwhelming
concern for this particular felon. The Rangers and McDugell, however,
knew full well Gadget still had a bit of a grudge against Osiris.
     As Osiris was carried back outside to the working R.C. cars, one of
the officers -- a mouse named Barry -- asked McDugell about it.
     “I always thought she was the most compassionate one out the
Rangers,” he said.
     McDugell nodded. “She is. But Osiris got in her mind and messed
around with it. Made her think Monterey and Dale were some weird
bugs, so she clobbered both of them, then came and sprang Osiris.”
     “Whoa....”
     “She managed to resist an attempt to deepen the illusion,”
McDugell added. “Knocking out Osiris’ teeth and enabling us to come
pick him up.” He glanced back at the blonde Ranger, who was cheerfully
smiling and talking with her teammates, then looked back to Barry. “But
it’s hard to forget someone violating you like that, I would guess.”
     “Yeah,” Barry said soberly, then tried to put a positive spin on it.
“Well, it doesn’t look like it really dampened her spirits in the long
run.” He chuckled as he glanced over at her. “You think she’s seeing
anyone?” he asked absent-mindly.
     McDugell grinned. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
     “Oh. Rats. Well, maybe it’ll fall through,” he said hopefully.
     “Come on, Hope Springs Eternal. Go get Osiris back to the station.
I’ll wait here to help the Rangers unjam the R.C. car with their
Rangermobile, and then drive the car back.”
     “Yes sir,” Barry nodded, then headed off with his fellow A.P.F.
officers. The cars were a little cramped with the additional form of Osiris,
and it was a fair drive back to the 7th precinct, where the A.P.F. had
made their new station, but such are the sacrifices officers must make,
Barry noted to himself as they left.
     McDugell walked over to the Rangers, at which point Gadget
turned to him and smiled.
     “Oh, hi, McDugell,” she greeted him. “We were talking about
plans for Thanksgiving; do have any? You’re welcome to join us, if you
want.”
     “Thanksgiving?” McDugell looked a bit puzzled. “Is it November
already?”
     “Thanksgiving’s this Thursday,” Chip nodded. “I guess you
don’t have any plans offhand, then?”
     “No, but it doesn’t matter,” he waved it aside. “I’ll be at the
station anyway. Still a lot of work needs to be done before it’s up and
running at full speed.” The old station was demolished in the Swarm
invasion, and rather than try and repair the massive damage to it, the
A.P.F. opted to just build a new one. Their new headquarters was located
behind the walls of the human’s new 7th precinct police station, but
even after months of work, they still had a fair amount of tasks to
preform before McDugell would feel it was up to code.
     Of course, everyone knew that McDugell’s code was far above the
standard, so it was doubtful he’d ever be entirely satisfied.
     “You can’t take a break?” Dale asked incredulously. “Not even
one night off? C’mon, man, there’ll be free food and cheap laughs --
the only reason I ever go to my family reunions.”
     “That’s... nice Dale,” the sergeant replied politely. “But honestly,
no, I can’t. Especially now that we finally got Osiris back. He still has a
lot of sentences to carry out.”
     “Are they going to ship him out?” Chip asked, referring to the
simple practice of banning various animals from the city. The animal
community had more or less adopted law and justice similar to the old
west. Banishment made more sense than long-term incarceration for most
hardened criminals. Most animal criminals spent most of their time jail
just awaiting a verdict; soon thereafter the worst ones would usually be
kicked out of the city with a sentence of execution hanging over their
heads should they ever return.
     McDugell shrugged. “I don’t know. Quite possibly, given the fact
that all he needs is a set of dentures and he could really wreck havoc. I’ll
confer with Dr. Speck on it -- he understands Osiris’ methods the best
of all of us. I mean, imagine if Osiris was into power more than money;
he could have some of the most influential animals in town eating out of
his paw.”
     The Rangers sighed and nodded.
     “Well, in any case, mate,” Monterey said, getting back to the
happier topic of eating, “if you change yer mind, just remember that
you’ve got a standin’ invite with us.”
     Zipper confirmed Monterey with a series of squeaks, also pointing
out that they would be eating over at their friend Janice’s place this year.
     “Janice?” McDugell didn’t recognize the name.
     “Old friend of mine and Monty’s,” Gadget clarified. “Zipper’s
sister will be there, too, and Foxglove.”
     Not knowing the actual people involved that well, McDugell
thought inviting a bat to a dinner with insects was in extremely poor taste,
but decided not to point that out.
     “Well, let’s see if we can get your car and the Rangermobile
apart,” Chip said. “Gadget? You think you can get the Rangermobile
working again?’
     Gadget grinned. “Piece of cake. Some of the parts were banged
around a bit, but nothing broke. It’ll work until I can get it back to the
tree and replace the worst of the damaged parts.”
     Since she didn’t say “no problems” or “should”, Monterey Jack
showed no fear as he aided her in getting the vehicles back into a working
order.

*     *     *

     It was late. That wasn’t surprising. Dr. Speck found himself
working late quite often these days. The ever-accumulating mound of
research to do, the help he gave the A.P.F., and now plans were being
discussed for building something of a rehabilitation center for various
animal convicts. The normal method of ostracizing them worked only in
that it passed the buck to the next city. If a mouse was robbing and
stealing in one city, why wouldn’t he just continue to do the same in the
next?
     No, Dr. Speck felt that the best way to deal with the ruffians that
cropped up in the animals’ subculture was to try and set them on the
straight path. Making better citizens seemed much more worthwhile than
just pushing the problem to someone else. Of course, being animals,
things were intricately more complicated that it was for humans. You
didn’t arrest a cat for eating a mouse when it’s a natural instinct. But
when the cat was paid off be a lizard to eat a mouse who was cutting in
on the lizard’s gambling territory, then it becomes a murder case, not to
mention the cat could be pressured into squealing on the lizard who
ordered the hit in the first place. That was assuming the cat didn’t try
the “natural instinct” plea -- “I ate the mouse because I’m a cat.” How
many times had he heard that as both the truth and a lie?
     The basic tenets on which this center was to be built required a
great deal of work and research, and once again, it seemed to fall to Dr.
Speck. Being one of the few mice psychiatrists in Stones City made him
the most likely person to successfully pull it off, as did his honest desire
to help out those who may have merely had a lapse in moral judgement.
From the good doctor’s point of view, it was just “easier” to banish or
even execute an offender rather than try and deal with the problem. It was
a sticking point that Sergeant McDugell and Dr. Speck had debated hotly
on for several years by now. And the sergeant always played his trump
card that he spent every day with the criminal element, while the doctor
only saw a fraction of it.
     But if this center went through, that card would be invalid -- Dr.
Speck would be getting an office in the center, where he could work one
on one with each of the inmates. True, it would be a heavy burden, as he
was adding it to his already substantial list of patients, but he felt
confident he could handle it all without overburdening himself. His body
had aged, but his mind had grown.
     And, truth be told, Dr. Speck knew that he worked best under
pressure. Generating pressure cookers for his life was a favorite hobby.
     He removed his large glasses, rubbed his face a bit, then replaced
them and glanced at the report in front of him once more. Osiris had been
recaptured, and given the doctor’s medical knowledge, the A.P.F. and
the Rangers wanted his opinions of the hypnotist’s potential threat
without his teeth. Osiris’ hypnotism replied entirely upon voice patterns,
and without teeth, Osiris couldn’t quite generate them. Still, the A.P.F.
wanted an expert to double-check. If a real possibility that Osiris might
find a way around his dental defect, he would have to be moved to an
isolated cell and kept under constant watch.
     Sighing, Dr. Speck decided that this could wait until tomorrow. He
was tired, and he was also looking forward to a warm Thanksgiving
dinner. The Rangers, in their ever-present generosity, had invited him to a
large dinner party being held at a friend of theirs -- he had been assured
that this friend would be more than happy to have him at her table, so Dr.
Speck promised them that if he finished up his work early enough, he
would try to stop by.
     Right now, the idea of a warm meal was far more inviting than the
leftover cold beans and celery he knew lurked in his own larder.
     He stood up, quickly but efficiently sorting the files and papers
from his desk to their respective folders. He hung onto the Osiris report,
however. Knowing Chip, the chipmunk would undoubtably want to talk
shop a bit after dinner, so he might as well have it on hand. He donned
his coat and hat, turned off the lights, and left his small office in the
human’s mental health institute where it was located.
     Stepping outside, he enjoyed the fairly cool night and moderately
warm breeze that whisked its way along the wide lawn of short grass
surrounding the center. He would have to head over to the metro line and
catch the next tram leaving for the country outlining the city. The
directions to the dinner were simple enough, but it would be a bit before
he could get there.
     “All the better to build up an appetite,” he chuckled to himself,
whistling a merry tune as he quickly walked down the field towards the
lights of the main road.
     His whistle slowly died as he stopped and looked around. He
thought he had heard something.
     All mice have a natural survival instinct, but those that live among
humans build a different set of parameters in which their instincts
operate. Avoiding humans, subconsciously dodging traffic, watching for
alley cats; all of those things Dr. Speck could do with the best of them.
But when it came to country dangers, things were a bit out of his normal
expectations. It never occurred to him to look up, or he might have seen
the bird of prey as it swooped in....

*     *     *

     “I am thankful for my life, my health, and for my son, who had
better not be starting to eat before the rest of the group.”
     Henry froze, and tried as discreetly as possible to swallow the
mouthful of food he had. “Not me, mommy,” he managed as innocently
as he knew how.
     Gadget leaned over next to him and whispered, “Just wait a little bit
more, okay?” She smiled at him and ran a light hand over the young
mouse’s head.
     “Okay, Aunt Gadget,” Henry replied, a bit discouraged. He hated
having to wait for everyone to say thanks first. Why couldn’t they just
eat first? Adults were strange, and Henry was glad he wasn’t one.
     Janice nodded to her son and Gadget, then looked over to the next
person in line.
     “I’m thankful for all the grub before me, here,” Monterey grinned,
“and that ol’ Janice here was kind enough to have me over even after
already knowin’ my eatin’ habits.” He winked at her, and she returned
it. They had been part of the same adventuring group that Gadget’s
father, Geegaw, had been with, and this was the first time the two of
them had shared a holiday with the other in about two decades.
     “I am thankful for the food, the friends, and the fact that I got to
play with some Battlemechs earlier this week,” Dale stated jovially,
rubbing his hands together in anticipation.
     “I’m just glad I have such a wonderful group of people to actually
be with this holiday,” Foxglove stated, a bit misty-eyed. “It really means
a lot to me that I’ve come this far with my friends.”
     Dale gave her an affectionate one-armed hug. “And we’re glad
you could make it, Foxy.”
     She nuzzled him quickly. “Pleasure’s all mine, cutie,” she
murmured. “Oh, and I’m also thankful there aren’t that as many
armadillos here as there are in Texas.”
     Janice blinked at this, but felt it would impolite to ask for
clarification of that now.
     With some rather dignified buzzes and gestures, Zipper eloquently
expressed his thanks for having his first Thanksgiving with his sister in
years, as well as the continued success of the Rangers in both business
and personal matters.
     Zinger’s own expressions clearly stated that she was just glad
Zipper only gave speeches like that once a year, earning a good-natured
elbowing from her brother.
     “Well, Zipper said most of what I’m thankful for,” Chip said
affably, “but in additional to that, I’m also thankful for Janice’s
graceful invitation, and her hospitality here tonight.”
     Janice grinned at him, knowing full well how much he liked it out
here. He had mentioned to her in passing that it reminded him of his
parents house, up in Wisconsin.
     “My turn?” Gadget thought for a moment. “Well, I guess I’m just
glad we’re all here tonight.” She smiled. “We don’t get the time to
have these things often, do we?”
     “Not our fault,” Dale shrugged. “I could do this all year long.”
     “Recite thanks?” Foxglove asked, a bit puzzled.
     “No. Eat, drink, and be merry.”
     “Last one,” Janice cooed, looking directly at her four-year old.
“Time for you to give thanks, dear, then we can eat.”
     “Really! Cool! I’m glad we can eat now!” And he proceeded to do
so with great gusto.
     Janice sighed. “I guess that’ll have to count. Dig in, everyone,
there’s lots of food for seconds.”
     The dinner went smooth and well, thanks mainly to Janice’s long
hours in the kitchen. The main course was a piece of tofu shaped like a
turkey, seasoned with herbs and coated with a chestnut sauce, actually
making it look and taste similar to the actual meat. Side dishes of
stuffing, yams, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, salad, and a dessert of
ice cream and pumpkin pie made for a thoroughly enjoyable evening.
Monterey was vastly impressed with Janice’s culinary skills, and didn’t
even mind the lack of cheese from the menu.
     "Golly, Chip," Gadget remarked as they started to eat, "should we 
have set a place for Dr. Speck?"
     Chip laughed softly and shook his head. "Ten to one he'll be too 
wrapped up in the new project of his to worry about making his way out 
here. 'I'll try to make it if I can' is Latin for 'don't hold your breath.'"
     "Besides," Janice added, "if he does show, it'll be easy to grab 
another plate setting."
     They enjoyed the time as the meal wound down to catch up on
various things that had been happening as of late, with the Rangers
regaling the others with the capture of Osiris. Chip supplied the factual
encounter, on which Monterey elaborated and Dale topped off with
various sound effects and background music. Gadget spent most of the
time playing with Henry, until he yawned widely and rubbed his eyes.
     “Uh-oh, looks like someone’s sleepy,” Janice smiled at her son
and hoisted him out of his chair and into her lap.
     “I’m not sleepy,” Henry lied, then yawned again and nestled
against his mother. Using her napkin, she wiped his face clean, then
addressed the rest of the group. “You’re free to relax in the living room,
if you want. There’s some candies and the like out there. I need to put
this guy to bed, then get started on the dishes.”
     “I’ll start ‘em for ya, Janice,” Monterey offered as he stood up.
“Since I didn’t do the cookin’ it’s the least I can do.”
     “Thanks Monty,” Janice replied. “Gadget? Could you give me a
hand and get the doors for me, hon?”
     “Sure thing, Janice,” Gadget popped up and walked out of the room
with Janice and the young mouse who insisted, in somnolent tones, that
he was not sleepy.
     Dale, Foxglove, and Zinger headed off to the living room, while
Zipper tapped Chip on the shoulder.
     Chip? his arced eyebrow asked.
     “Hmm?”
     You going to join us?
     “In a little bit, Zipper. I think I’ll go wash up, first. Then maybe
take a quick walk outside. Enjoy the evening before it starts to get too
cold.”
     Zipper nodded and flew off, while Chip stood up and stretched. He
snatched his hat from the back of his chair, then headed up the stairs
towards the bathroom.
     Back downstairs, Gadget was helping Janice put Henry to bed.
Actually, Gadget was more or less watching than helping; but she
enjoyed moments like this. She often thought of her own mother when
watching Janice and Henry together. More than just a friend, Gadget held
Janice in a high regard, as the older woman was one of the few people
who had known both her father and her mother. Those kind of ties to her
past were important, and very dear, to the young inventor.
     “I swear,” Janice said quietly as they shut the door to Henry’s
room and walked away, “that boy is going to be a handful for the teachers
when he hits preschool.”
     “You’re sending him to preschool?” Gadget inquired. Most rural
mice never bothered trying to have their children taught in a small rodent
school, opting for the home-schooling approach.
     But Janice nodded. “Tim and Catherine had talked to me about it
since the wedding,” she explained, referring to Chip’s old friend’s
family. “They’ll be sending both Cindy and Ann into one come next
year. Henry gets along well with the girls, so it’ll be reassuring to know
that he’ll have some friends in the new surroundings.”
     “But don’t you live too far away?” Gadget asked. Janice used to
live even further out in the country, near some actual farmland, until her
husband was killed in an exterminator’s raid. She then moved into
Stones City, staying with her brother-in-law. Unfortunately, her timing
was less than perfect, as Swarm invaded soon thereafter. Her
brother-in-law had gone missing, presumably deceased, and Janice had
taken it as a sign to return closer to the country and take her chances
there. Currently, she had found a large, comfortable living space in one of
the older houses on the outside of the city. On a clear night, one could see
the lights of the skyscrapers, but the only sounds around were those of the
country. Most rodent schools took place downtown, where the vast
majority of rodents lived in one close area.
     “Well, yes, but Tim and Catherine offered some advice,” Janice
explained. “They suggested trying a blend of home-schooling and public
schooling.”
     “What do you mean?”
     “Well, given the distance, what I might end up doing is staying in
their tree for a month or so, while Henry gets a bit of teacher instruction.
Then, after the teacher and I go over a plan for the year, I come back here
with Henry, and do the rest with the lessons provided. Then we only need
to actually visit the school about once a month for the main tests to make
sure he’s learning.” She paused as she glanced back down the hallway
to Henry’s quiet room. “I just want him to have the best chance in his
life, and by getting a taste of both country and city living, he should be
better prepared to chose between the two than his mother was.” She
chuckled softly.
     “Golly, that’s awful nice of Tim and his family to offer you a
place to stay,” Gadget remarked. “It’ll be a big help.”
     “Oh, I won’t be in their actual home, dear. They mentioned that
there’s a smaller living space up above them that’s used as a summer
home for a couple of robins. When they fly south in the winter, it’s not
being used, so we wouldn’t be inconveniencing anyone. They said
they’d double-check with the robins, but doubted it’d be a problem.”
     The two of them reached the kitchen, where they could hear the
conversations of those in the living room. Janice smiled as she noticed
that Monterey had already cleared away all the dirty plates.
     “Well, Monty certainly has changed a bit since his carefree bachelor
days,” she laughed. “He never used to do this on our trips with the
others.” She began to gather up a few of the food plates, so the food
could be wrapped up and saved for later.
     “Monty has mellowed a bit since he joined the Rangers,” Gadget
grinned as she replied and grabbed the remaining plates herself. “I think
Chip’s stern belief in organization and planning may be rubbing off on
him. Just don’t tell him I said so.”
     “Mum’s the word, hon,” Janice winked as they walked into the
kitchen. The sounds of water and scrubbing greeted them, as well as an
Aussie male’s voice, singing to himself:
     “She says, ‘your body is a temple, boy
     you ought to treat it well
     but you trash the place and rent it out
     like it’s some cheap motel’
     then she takes away my plate
     before I’ve finished my meal
     and works on my hygiene
     against my will....”
     “Monty?” Gadget asked, a look of amused surprise on her features.
     “Hmm? Oh, hiya ladies!” Monterey grinned at them over his
shoulder, then returned his attention to the dishes, where he let out a sigh
of relief that they hadn’t walked in on the last verse, dealing with the
coffee laced with Mr. Clean. He had his overcoat off and his sweater
sleeves rolled up, and Gadget couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of this
rough, burly mouse with a flight cap on washing dishes. She wished she
had brought her camera with her. It was truly a Kodak moment. Or a
future blackmail one.
     “Thanks a bunch for helping out, Monty,” Janice said, placing the
food down on the table and scurrying over to grab some food wrap she
had. “I’ll dry the dishes, then, once I get the food taken care of.”
     “Where do you want these, Janice?” Gadget held up the plates of
food she was carrying.
     “Just on the table hon. Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.”
     “You should check out the night sky, luv,” Monterey commented to
Gadget. “I had a peek before I started up the dishes. Gorgeous night out.”
     “Really?” Gadget thought about it. She hadn’t actually had a
chance to look at the stars from outside of the city in a while, and the
view was always better out in the country. “Thanks, Monterey. I think I
will take a peek.” She headed over to the stairs leading up to the roof,
calling over her shoulder, “Tell the guys in the living room I’ll be there
in a bit! Thanks!”
     Monterey and Janice affirmed Gadget’s request, then turned their
attention back to the glamourous job of sanitizing dinnerware.
     “So what is it you wanted to talk about?” Janice said without
blinking as she dried one of the plates, eyeing Monterey with a smirk.
     “Am I still that easy to read?” he asked with a simper.
     “Always have been, Monty. Especially since you were so eager to
hop up and start on the dishes rather than join the others to sit around and
shoot the bull.”
     “Okay, okay, ya got me -- guilty as charged.” Monterey paused to
rinse one of the glasses off and set it in the drying rack before continuing.
“I was just thinkin’, is all, about the ol’ days, traspin’ around the
globe with Geegaw and you and Sid and ‘em all.”
     “You miss it?” Janice asked, surprised. “I thought your time with
the Rangers would have been filling your thirst for adventure.”
     “Well, it does.” Monterey nodded. “What about you, though? Do
you miss it?”
     Janice thought for a minute as she dried a couple of glasses. “I
don’t know, really. I mean, I had a lot of fun during Kan and Tham’s
rehearsal, but that wasn’t anything particularly deadly like we used to go
through. I guess that once I met Elmo, my priorities changed. And then
Henry was born, and I’d gladly give up my adventures for the ability to
spend my days rasing him.”
     “Heh,” Monterey chuckled. “I wonder if I’ll ever feel that way.”
     “When you have a child of your very own, you’d be surprised at
what you’re willing to sacrifice, Monterey,” Janice said with a knowing
smile. “But, we’re straying from the subject. What’s on your mind,
Monty? You miss the old group, is that it?”
     Monterey nodded as he scrubbed away. “Yeah. Not that I want to
quit the Rangers or anythin’, jus’ that I’d like to look up the ol’
gang and see what they’ve been up to. It wasn’t until that you dropped
by that I realized I was actually interested in what had become of the
mates I had lived with through volcanic eruptions, political revolutions,
and crooked card games in Cancun. I even dug out me own personal team
shot the other day; still got it on me, too.”
     “Oh, the one of all of us in India?”
     “Yep.” Monterey thought for a moment. “Yours was in Guam,
right?”
     Janice grinned. “Yep. Back in the days when I looked good in a
two-piece swimsuit.”
     Monterey chuckled. “Well, go put on one now -- let’s contrast and
compare!”
     Laughing, Janice shook her head. “I don’t think so, Monty. But
where did the others have their team shots taken at?” she pondered aloud.
“I can’t remember for the life of me for some reason.”
     “Well, Geegaw’s was in Alcapoco, Sid’s somewhere around
Terra Del Feugo, Card’s was in Monte Carlo--”
     “Naturally.”
     “Too right. And Hatch... oh geez, where were we for that photo? It
was cold, I remember.”
     “Alaska?” Janice offered, but then shook her head. “No, that was
the time that we had that dispute over the linage of Balto.”
     “Not Siberia, either... oh, crikey, now I remember; it was in
Antarctica! Remember? The problem with the penguins?”
     “Oh yes,” Janice said, smiling at the remembrance. “Hatch said
that they’d drive him insane with their singing.”
     “Just be glad he wasn’t there for the tap-dancing,” Monterey
grumbled under his breath.
     “Pardon?”
     “Nothin’. But this is what I mean. We had a lot of fun with those
guys, Janice. And a reunion sounds right in order.”
     “A reunion?” Janice pondered on this for a few seconds before
nodding. “That would be nice. But finding them seems just about as real
as a pipe dream, Monty. How could we track them down? Sid was
married, so we might be able to find a paper trail or something, but Card
and Hatch both went their separate ways after we drifted apart. And this
is a big world for humans, let alone creatures under a foot in height.”
     Monterey nodded. “Yeah, that’s the trouble. Still, it’s something
that’s been naggin’ me. I dunno why, but it’s like we need to track
‘em down again, and soon. Before somethin’ happens to them.”
     “Something may have already happened to them,” Janice ruefully
said. “And we just may not have heard about it.”
     Monterey nodded thoughtfully. “Too right. And that’s what’s
buggin’ me. If somethin’ bad has happened to ‘em, I want to be the
one to find out, not be the one to have to be told, y’know?”
     “I think I do, Monty,” Janice nodded, then patted her long-time
friend on the shoulder. She paused, remembering something from earlier
in the evening. “By the way, Monty, forgive my asking this, but you
know Foxglove fairly well, right?”
     “Yep. Fun gal.”
     Janice nodded. A bit eccentric, but fun. “I was just wondering what
that bit about the armadillos was all about. I mean, she wasn’t really
serious was she?”
     Monterey nodded and smiled slightly. “Serious as sour milk, luv.
Seems to have some sort of aversion to ‘em. Dunno why, but she thinks
they’re like demons or something similar.”
     “Well, I’ve heard about armadillos in that light before,” Janice
nodded.
     Monterey looked surprised at this. “Really? I never have, actually.”
     “You probably wouldn’t have. Some of the people I met during
my travels after the group split up seemed to regard them as exceedingly
nasty creatures.”
     “Get outta here,” Monterey chided. “I’ve known a bunch of the
blighters, and all of ‘em have been swell folk. A few were hot-headed,
but blimey, Chipper’s been even worse at times, and we don’t think of
‘im any less.”
     Janice shrugged. “I’m not saying I agree with it. Just that it’s
something I noticed as being semi-common. At least, south of here. I’ve
never met any northerners who have that view.”
     “Well, not many armadillos spend time up in the north, either, eh?
But seriously, Janice, don’t let it faze ya. Foxy’s a sweet ol’ gal, and
as friendly as ya please. She just has a quirk or two. Kinda like all of us.”
     Janice smiled. “Yes, I suppose I’d have to agree with that. Come
on. Let’s finish this up, and then I can show you the small gym I set up
downstairs.”
     “Oh yeah,” Monterey smiled. “I forget you mentioned that. You
still work out?”
     “Three times a week,” she replied with a trace of pride. “That
rehearsal dinner was a wonderful vindication for keeping up with my
exercises all these years.”
     They both enjoyed a warm silence, thoughts drifting back to that
ruckus only a few months earlier.
     As one, they cried, “Save the dinnerware!”
     Monterey pitched a wet plate over has shoulder, which Janice dived
for and caught deftly, having it dried before she even stood back up.
     “I’ve still got it,” she winked at him, while he chuckled
approvingly.
     
     Gadget stepped thought the small hole in the ceiling, walking out
onto the farmhouse’s rooftop. This section of the roof was slanted
slightly, but the shingles were rough enough to give safe footing, and she
was too far away from the edge to worry about an accidental three-story
drop. As Monterey had said, it was a clear night out, and being outside of
the city limits, the sky was free of any lingering smog that normally was
always thinly present. Thus, Gadget blinked in surprise at the stars, out in
force tonight. She hadn’t seen such a starry sky for years; she
remembered nights at the Ranger tree when she did some occasional
stargazing in between spurts of inventing, but compared to this blanket of
heavens, those were just the preface to the novel.
     Her eyes lightly scanned over all of them, seemingly filling the
heavens like never before. It was so engaging that she didn’t even notice
that she wasn’t alone at first. It wasn’t until her view moved down
towards to horizon, and the rest of the rooftop came into view, that she
saw a certain chipmunk, stretched out on his back, eyes also trained on
the stars, far above. For someone who was normally observant, Chip was
apparently still unaware of her presence. Cautiously, she closed the
distance between them, careful so as not to startle him.
     “Chip?” she gently asked, making sure that his mind was still on
the same planet as his body.
     “Hmm?” he asked, being drawn out of the trance he was in. He
glanced over at who it was and smiled warmly. “Oh, hi Gadget.”
     “I’m sorry,” she immediately said, almost reflexively. “I didn’t
mean to interrupt or anything.”
     “You didn’t. Have a seat.”
     She carefully sat down next to him. “How come you’re stretched
out like that? Doesn’t seem like it’d be too comfortable.”
     Hands clasped behind his head, Chip shrugged. “If it wasn’t
comfortable to start with, it’s okay now. Once you get into these
stargazing modes, you’d be surprised what you can endure.”
     “What do you mean?”
     “Well, first, lie back.”
     Gadget arched an inquisitive eyebrow at him. Seemed like a strange
request.
     “Trust me,” he laughed. “You can see the stars a whole lot better.”
     Experimentally, she settled back. The hard roof wasn’t the greatest
thing to rest on, as she suspected, but she did see what Chip meant about
looking at the stars this way. Lying flat back, positioned where she was
on the roof, she couldn’t see any part of the building itself. No
obstructions could be seen around the sky, either. No power lines, no
trees, no buildings... it was as if the sky was nothing more than an
exquisite painting of perfection -- one that, if she stretched out towards,
she could actually touch.
     “Golly....” she finally managed to voice. “I had forgotten about
night skies like this.”
     “Isn’t it beautiful?” Chip said softly, his own eyes settling on the
north star, shining delicately amid the surrounding celestial illuminations.
     “Yeah,” Gadget answered quietly. Out here in the open, far from
the general noises of the city, the night sounds of nature were magnified,
and to speak loudly was to jar this relaxing and soothing feeling gently
sinking down around them. Hushed whispers were the order of the hour,
now.
     “You know,” Gadget continued, in subdued tones, “this reminds
me of times I spent flying with dad.”
     “Really?”
     “Yeah. Some of the places we went were great for this kind of
thing. And I remember a few times when we were flying at night. Oh,
Chip, it was so incredible. It was like we were actually up and flying with
the stars. Like they were some type of guiding pixies, or fairies, or data
bits, seeing us through the night.”
     “Wow...” Chip breathed. In the magic of the moment, he could
easily imagine what it must have been like.
     Gadget giggled. “Of course, the motors were pretty loud, so my
first few times up, I didn’t appreciate the sights that much. Dad always
told me that I’d eventually just filter them out. He was right, of course.”
     Even though she couldn’t see him, Gadget knew Chip was
smiling. “Your dad was right about a lot of things, Gadget.”
     They were quiet then, each wandering through their own thoughts.
Memories, hopes, dreams... in their minds they picked each one of and
looked at it was a detached bemusement. Maybe this thing would happen,
or that thing would be resolved -- maybe not. But right now, as they
gazed out into the universe before them, none of it really seemed to
matter.
     “It’s pretty neat, when you think about it,” Gadget suddenly said,
moved to conversation again. “The light from the stars.”
     “In what way?” Chip prompted. “There’s a lot of really neat
things about starlight.”
     “Well, in the fact that everything we see is really all in past tense. 
The light from some of these stars left millions of light-years ago, and 
it’s just arriving to our eyes now. Think about it. When this
light was leaving, we weren’t even around. Our parents weren’t. Golly,
life as we know it wasn’t even around. This sky is safely outdated from
reality by millions of years. A snapshot of universal perfection for us to
always have on hand. A window into the mind of God....” she trailed off,
enraptured with the bliss of complete peace.
     Chip wasn’t sure what was more unnerving: Gadget
philosophizing, or the fact that he understood every word she said. He
couldn’t help but grin as he also realized that, right now, it could be
truly said that Gadget was “staring off into space.”
     “I mean, it’s just a great thought,” the young lady beside him
continued. “Any one of these stars may have been gone for millions of
years, and it’s still able to reach through time and visit us now. And, one
day, when the last of its light finally reaches us, another star will already
have been born, just waiting for us to see its own light for the first time
ever.”
     “Everlasting starlight, huh?” Chip wondered out loud. “I never
thought about that before....”
     Without taking her eyes from the sky, Gadget asked, “What do you
think about when you look at the stars, Chip?”
     Chip took a moment to reply. “I guess my childhood. Back before
Marie died. I always liked astronomy, and would spend a lot of time
looking up the constellations and the mythical histories of each.” He
laughed. “Of course, now I have problems finding most of them. The
only one I remember is the Big Dipper, Little Dipper, Draco combo.”
     “Hmm?”
     “You see the Big Dipper, right?” Chip asked.
     “Erm... no.” Gadget knew what it was, but she was actually having
problems finding it amid the cavalcade of stars now.
     “Right over there,” Chip shifted over next to her, pointing up at the
constellation.
     “Oh, yeah! Golly, it was right in front of me,” she admitted
sheepishly.
     “Happens to the best of us,” Chip replied warmly.
     “So what’s that combo you mentioned?”
     “Oh, well, this what you do.” He pointed up at the Big Dipper
again. “Take the end of the Big Dipper there, that one segment on the
end of the cup, and use it as a measuring stick. About five lengths up is 
the north star.”
     “That one over there?” Gadget asked, pointing up.
     “Yep. That’s the end of the Little Dipper. The Little Dipper pours
into the Big Dipper, so--”
     “Oh! I see it, yeah!” Gadget grinned, following Chip’s
navigations.
     “And then Draco the Dragon runs up in between them,” Chip said
as he traced the course of the third constellation across the sky. “But it’s
one of those constellations that doesn’t even vaguely resemble what
it’s supposed to stand for, so I never really can remember what it’s
supposed to look like.”
     He lowered his arm, coming to a rest next to Gadget’s. He decided
not to put his hands back behind his head, as doing so would elbow
Gadget in the face, and probably spoil this nice evening they were
sharing.
     Sighing happily, Gadget resumed her gazing, darting about the
constellations. “I really love nights like this,” she mentioned offhandedly.
     “If you like this, you should see it from my parents place,” Chip
chuckled. “My dad was the one who showed me how to find that combo,
after all. They live up in Wisconsin, and on the proper nights, the sky is
so clear that you can see the Milky Way. Once in a while the Northern
Lights, too.”
     “Really?”
     “Yeah. I haven’t seen them, yet, myself, though.”
     Gadget nodded, then thought of something. “Chip? When did you
last visit your parents?”
     Chip mentally jogged through his memory. “Gee. Not for a while
now. Not since the Rangers formed, actually. They keep bugging me to
visit them sometime...” he said wistfully. Then, more solidly. “I think I
will. Maybe in a few months. Head up there for a bit. Help out around
their tree. Have some of mom’s home-cooking again.” He rubbed his
full belly, the taste of food from a stove rather than a can still fresh in his
mouth.
     “You’d take a break from the Rangers?” Gadget teased, playfully
nudging him.
     He laughed a bit. “Well, maybe.” A pause as he decided to chance
something. “Of course,” he said tentatively, “you’d be more than
welcome to come along, if you’d like.” Chip hoped the night cloaked
his trembling.
     For the first time since she laid down, Gadget turned her large eyes
to look at Chip. Sensing her gaze, Chip turned to behold her enrapturing,
shyly smiling face.
     “I...” she quietly breathed, traces of a blush forming. “I would very
much like to meet your parents, Chip.” Her eyes were shining with a
magnitude to challenge the North Star.
     Chip’s own cheeks were starting to grow warm. “I think they’d
really like to meet you, too, Gadget.” His voice was a near-whisper. “I
really think they would.”
     They gazed at each other intensely for a few more moments.
     Over one year ago, they shared their only real kiss, when both of
their defenses had been weakened enough that the comfort of each other
was worth the risk that it might be a mistake. Since then, such an act of
affection had never been repeated. Perhaps for fear of losing a friendship
which was already strong, or perhaps for fear of going into territory that
neither had ever charted before. Whatever the case, a line had been drawn
after that kiss, with both of them recognizing it and respecting the
distance it commanded.
     Under the cover of the stars, they jointly crossed that line with their
second deep, lingering kiss. Whether it lasted for a second, a minute, or
an eternity, neither could say; time was left far behind as a single,
euphoric felling swelled up in its place. And how they wished it could last
forever.
     Their corporeal forms, however, still remained in the physical
realm, requiring them to eventually, reluctantly, leave their shared bliss,
and thus their lips parted.
     Only to join together once more, as powerfully and passionate as
before.
     It was on the next parting that they both suddenly realized that they
were cuddled together intimately close; so much so that if Monterey had
stepped out onto the roof at that moment, Chip may have found himself
being pitched over the edge by a wielder of fatherly instincts.
     They quickly sat up, and pulled back from their embrace a little,
allowing their hands to rest upon the other’s elbows. The blush they
each wore melted any attempt at speech, so they remained sitting in
silence momentarily, just allowing themselves to bask in the glow of
affection that permeated the night air. Both sets of eyes -- her inviting
blues and his comforting blacks -- sparkled and reflected a multitude of
starlight, both from the sky, and from within their own souls.
     “We’d better get back in before the others wonder about us,” Chip
stated shakily. He started to rise, only to have Gadget’s arms tighten
around his, holding him in place.
     “Chip...” she said quietly, her gentle smile ever-so-slightly turning
up the corners of her soft eyes in that way that always melted him in his
tracks. Her gaze expelled any lingering nervousness within him.
     “Chip,” she repeated in feathery breath, and lightly tugged on his
jacket, drawing him near as she mouthed, “let them wonder.”
     High above them, the north star winked merrily, its light from eons
before bathing the couple embraced on the rooftop in a timeless, lambent
aura.

*     *     *

     “Okay, you ready?” Foxglove called down to Dale, who was
standing in the DJ booth of The Rat’s Den, alongside of Skip.
     “Yeppers, Foxy! You all set?”
     “You betcha, sweet stuff! Just hit that play button and I’ll show
you my routine!” She settled herself calmly in the rafters of the animal
society’s dance pub where Skip worked. The club was closed, as it was
Thanksgiving, still. Technically speaking, however, it was already Friday
by about three hours. The rest of the Rangers had gone home, but
Foxglove had wanted to show Dale a special aerial routine she had been
working on in her spare time. She had approached Skip about using the
club, since it had a spacious interior for her to maneuver about in, and
also had all the audio equipment needed to truly make the music come
alive.
     While Foxglove prepared herself for perhaps the most importance
performance of her life (Dale was watching, after all, so the fact that there
were only two spectators never entered into it), Dale turned to Skip with a
questioning look.
     “I’m kinda surprised you had this song,” he remarked. “I mean,
this place mainly plays the heavy dance stuff, and then your own band is
more into the big band swing bit.”
     “I love music -- all kinds,” the other chipmunk stated proudly.
“Foxglove was surprised when she learned I had this song on CD, too.
We were talking after the wedding rehearsal, and the topic of our favorite
songs came up. She mentioned this one, I said I had this one on CD, and
she practically split her face open with a grin.”
     Dale smiled fondly; he knew that look. That beautiful look....
     “...so she asked about practicing here, after closing,” Skip went on,
“and I didn’t see why not, so she’s been fine-tuning it for a few weeks,
now. This is the final product we’re going to see, even though it’ll be
my first time seeing it, too.”
     “Haven’t you seen it?” Dale asked.
     “Nope. She said you would have to be here before I could watch, so
I had to face the other way during the whole dance rehearsal. Really kind
of weird.”
     “Yeah,” Dale agreed proudly. “That’s my Foxglove!”
     “You bet,” Skip said congenially. “Anyway, if she’s all set, let’s
get this puppy spinning.”
     “What’s the name of it again?” Dale asked as they both moved
over to the front of the booth overlooking the spacious dance area below.
The colored lights had been dimmed, whilst the spotlights rearranged so
that the air above the stage was well-lit.
     “Long title,” Skip answered as he pressed the play button. “I’ll tell
you later.” He called up to Foxglove, “Okay, Foxglove, the stage is
yours!”
     Above them, Foxglove could feel the butterflies in her stomach, and
was glad she never ate any for real -- the feeling was quite
nerve-wracking. But like so many live performers, the uneasiness reached
its peak right before the music started, and then, as she released her grip
on the rafter and started to guide down, complete calm overtook her, and
she became the embodiment of performance.
     The heavy sounds of a majestic pipe organ filled the air, row after
row of notes dancing about gaily as they climbed playfully up and down
the music scales. Foxglove didn’t follow the rhythm -- Foxglove *was*
the rhythm. She felt each chord and note flow through her as smoothly as
she flowed through the air. She spun, corkscrewed, and climbed in the
thin updraft from the ventilation of the club, spinning as she did so. Each
twist and turn of her choreography flashed the spotlights off of her wings
in a perfectly timed sequence which matched the music.
     Dale was openly flabbergasted. He felt like he was watching a
combination of zero-gravity ice skating, solo synchronized swimming,
and an angel in flight, all in once. Foxglove seemed to have been created
solely for this; her flight pattern with the pipe organ, the powerful, deep,
sonorous sounds hoisting her up on her feather-light wings into a
cornucopia of spins, dives, dips, and climbs. One moment she was
gliding lazily down around in circles, dipping once with each dip of the
music, then she was racing into towards the floor in a power-dive, only to
pull up at the last second, her sudden updraft billowing out a cloud of
dust beneath her. Which, she then spun up and around in a blur, almost
sculpting the dust cloud into a swirling cone, reaching its soft tendrils of
light-reflecting particles towards the heavens before gently drifting back
down to the floor.
     All the while, Foxglove keep her eyes closed, never once doubting
where she was going or that she might hit something by accident. Her
well trained ears knew the pattern of sounds rebounding around her as
well as she knew the slightly sugary smell of Dale right after he finished
his cereal. And her blissful smile beamed from across the room to
Dale’s eyes no matter where she was. Watching Foxglove in this type of
ecstasy reminded him of the old Greek myth about the men who saw the
goddess of the moon bathing; they knew that they would be punished for
such an act, but the sheer beauty of their vision flushed their common
sense soundly out of their systems.
     “It’s a wonderful way to go,” Dale mumbled without realizing it.
     The music was cresting, and seemed to be attempting to match the
bat’s elegant and energetic flight pattern as she soared and cut gracefully
through the open air of the club. The pipe organ hit its final, looming
chords of majesty and regality, finally coming to a grand, thundering,
awe-inspiring end as Foxglove lightly looped about several times before
artfully sweeping her wings out and gently drifting to the floor, where she
touched down in a humble pose of her hands clasped in front of her, eyes
open and bright, gazing upwards, and her ears practically vibrating with
delight as the last lingering traces of the otherworldly music softly
vanished.
     Skip hit the stop button while Dale exploded in a bevy of cheers and
whistles.
     “Wowie-Zowie many times over, Foxy!” Dale yelled
enthusiastically as he jumped from the DJ room and landed, somewhat
unceremoniously, in front of Foxglove with a thud.
     “You liked it?” she beamed, clear, unfettered joy written plainly
across her face.
     “Liked it? I *loved* it, Foxy! I never knew you could do that kind
of stuff, before!”
     She blushed. “Well, I didn’t either, really. I always wanted to try
it, though, and after I learned Skip had the CD--”
     “Hey, yeah,” Dale cut in, suddenly remembering. “What was that,
anyway? It sounded like Bach, what with all the pipe organ.”
     Foxglove laughed and hugged Dale close. He wasn’t sure what
prompted this, but he wasn’t complaining in the slightest.
     “It *is* Bach, sweetie!” she said proudly. “It’s Sinfonia, from
Cantata No. 29 -- ‘We Thank Thee, Lord’. One of my favorite of his
works. Just beautiful. Ineffable, even!”
     Dale had no clue what that word meant, but the passion with which
she stated it convinced him it was a compliment of the highest order, and
needed to be replied to in earnest. “Right!” he agreed triumphantly.
     She hugged him close again. “I’m *so* glad you liked it,
cuddle-kins. I said to myself, ‘Self, I really hope Dale likes this’. And
sure enough, you did!”
     “Hey, how could I not, Foxy? You were great up there! I mean,
wow! All those flying superheros haven’t got a thing on you!”
     Foxglove’s still-present blush deepened considerably and she
sighed in utmost contentment with her dearest love.
     A few minutes later, Dale pulled back enough to fish something out
of his pocket. “Oh, here, before I forget again....” He pulled out a small,
square piece of leather attached to the leather necklace that had what
appeared to be some American Indian beadwork on it. Foxglove blinked
in surprise as she saw a silhouette of a bat with its wings outstretched in
the middle.
     “What’s this?”
     “Something that Zinger forget to give you earlier this evening,” he
replied. “She says that she picked it up on her travel over to Stones City,
after her and Zipper’s family moved. I guess she got it from this one
really old spider she met; he was too old to catch live bugs anymore, and
was living on some berries and stuff by this one creek, see? Anyway, this
spider and she hit it off really well -- I guess his name was
Walking-Bear-Goes-Too-Far or something -- and so when she left, he
gave her this old charm. It’s supposed to protect the soul from the
infiltrations of the dark spirits. The bat was supposed to be the guardian
of the night or something, and swoop in and silently eat up all the bad
things at night so you could rest easily. Kinda like NyQuil. So like,
anyway, she always thought of you when she had it, and it’s a little too
big for her, so she thought you’d like it.”
     Foxglove snickered fondly at Dale’s verbose explanation. She was
sure he probably didn’t give a completely accurate history of it, but she
knew Zinger well enough to know that there probably was some sort of
legend linked to this charm, depicting the bat as a protecter.
     “That’s real sweet of her,” Foxglove nodded, then asked, “but if
it’s so big, how come she forgot it at the beginning of the evening?”
     “She had to leave it outside, and when she remembered, you were
already gone.”
     Foxglove nodded -- she had left early to meet up with Skip and get
everything ready.
     “So she flagged me down before I got on the Ranger Wing, gave it
and the story to me, and then we left and I had the Rangers drop me off
here on the way home. And, well, here we are!” He finished smugly,
stepping behind her and looping the charm around her neck, tying it
securely so there was some slack, but not enough for it to fall off while
flying.
     “Thanks again, cutie,” she smiled down at the small American
Indian token of friendship, and, to her, faith. “But wait a minute, how are
you going to get back to the tree?”
     Dale blinked. “Aw, nuts....”
     She stepped in front of him and squeezed his shoulders once, then
lifted her wings away, lightly touching his face as she did so. “What am I
going to do with you, Dale?” she giggled. “Come on, I’ll give you a
lift.”
     “Foxy, I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he thanked her
with a peck on the cheek as they headed for the door.
     “Neither do I, cutie, and let’s keep it that way, hmm?”
     “Gladly.”