by David D. White
Story Editor - Melody Rondeau
Music by Alan Silvestri and Thomas Newman
Truckin’ Advisor - C.W. McCall
Executive Producer - Ponsonby Britt, O.B.E.

Prologue - Inquiry, Introspection and Illumination.
Or,
What We Think Of As Solid Matter Is Mostly Made Up Of A Lot Of Zeroes.
Music - Thomas Newman

It has been said that in Los Angeles, everyone is a stranger.

Chip recalled the saying as he surveyed the patrons in the Knothole Bar & Grill. Before forming the Rescue Rangers this had been a favorite hangout for Dale and himself. They had started wild exploits here. They had fought over girls here. They had commiserated their setbacks and defeats here.

Even after the Rangers went into business Chip had come here to meet his confidential sources and pick up his best clues. Now, where he once saw old informants and new adventures, he saw only unfamiliar, unremarkable faces. Strangers all.

Not that he was surprised. His visits to the old haunt had become quite rare as Dale spent more time with Foxglove. Visiting without his long time partner wasn’t the joy it had once been.

Despite his best efforts, he found his mind straying from the case. Into territory he didn’t often visit. Very personal territory.

Chip looked around and felt that somehow... someone... something else was missing. A face. A feeling.

He had been so sure about it all. Wasn’t it the way it was supposed to be? The way it was meant to be?

Or was it, perhaps, the way it would never be.

Joe the bartender knew something was up when Chip ordered a dark cider instead of his usual ginger ale. He eased closer to Chip while idly wiping down the spotless bar.

“Gotta be girl trouble,” Joe said. “I can tell from your expression.”

“Dale and his girlfriend, Foxglove,” Chip answered. “They’re pretty tight with each other and I’m worried...”

“Don’t give me that!” Joe interrupted. “No one sits at my bar with a face as long as yours thinkin’ about someone else’s problems! It’s your girl trouble. That means it’s Gadget again.”

Chip smiled wryly. “That obvious, huh?” He finished his cider and firmly planted the empty glass. “I can’t think of anything else to try with her.”

“Quit trying,” Joe stated with certainty. “She’s not interested. I can tell.”

“C’mon, Joe,” Chip said. “Dale and I have both taken her out. She’s even dated other guys, once in a while.”

“She does it out of kindness. Because someone asks and she doesn’t want to disappoint them. But she isn’t interested, or she’d be poking you to find out why you don’t ask her out more often. If you don’t believe me, ask her about love.”

“What? Just walk up and ask ‘do you love me?’”

“Just try to find out how she feels about you. If you ask flat-out, she’ll say she loves you as a friend, or she’ll dodge the question. Sneak around the subject and you’ll just get the run-around right back. Whatever you ask, however you phrase it, you won’t get a straight answer, yes or no. Because she doesn’t know. She just ain’t interested in romance.”

Chip considered the bartender’s age and background. He also considered his four divorces and many mournful stories of amorous disaster.

“You’re a cynic, Joe. Not every female is a heartbreaker.”

“I’m not talking about every female. I’m talking about Gadget and I know what I’m talking about. It’s not that she doesn’t like guys, or your partner or you. It’s her. She’s got her career and her workshop, her inventions and her friends. She has her life just the way she wants it and she doesn’t have any reason to bust it up for any man. She’s just plain not interested in changing anything.”

“I don’t buy it,” Chip said. “Gadget’s waiting for the time to be right. She’s got too much heart to not want to be loved.”

“Her heart isn’t the problem, either,” Joe said. “I know full well how much Gadget cares. She cares about every thing and every body. But she doesn’t care enough about herself to worry about amour.”

“Maybe...” Chip said. It was a possibility he had never considered. Perhaps Gadget didn’t care about her own happiness. Perhaps she didn’t see that his happiness was at stake as well.

“Heck,” Joe conceded, “maybe I’ve got it all wrong. Maybe she just doesn’t get it. Maybe she’s just, y’know... really blonde.”

“Thanks, Joe,” Chip said. “See you around.” He slid off the bar stool and headed for the door.

“It could be worse, Chip,” Joe called. “It could be raining.”

Chip opened the front door. Driving rain hammered down with such ferocity it made the scenery beyond gray and indistinct. Chip paused just a moment to turn his collar up against the storm before plunging into the gloom.

“Yeah,” he said ruefully. “It could be worse.”

In Los Angeles, everyone is a stranger, Chip recalled.

To be sure, the rain that fell this day was a stranger, as odd and transient in L. A. as a traveling circus. But how far did that sense of strangeness go? How deep did that mystery run? Even to those you thought you knew, who turned out to be strangers as well? Could it be you never truly knew anyone?

* * *

There may have been a stranger sight in the sky over Los Angeles this day than a small bat carrying a chipmunk, but one would have been hard pressed to find it. As they careened across the darkening sky, Foxglove realized what they took for light smog ahead was in fact a sheet of rain.

“That’s a cloudburst ahead!” Foxglove yelled. “I don’t think I can fly us to shelter in time!”

“We’ll be soaked before we can get to cover,” Dale shouted. “Put the hammer down, Foxy! Head for home!”

With a well harmonized pair of squeals, they flew into the downpour. They were almost instantly soaked but it wasn’t cold. Foxy could feel Dale’s hand gently holding her ankle, and his touch seemed to warm her whole body.

Home, she thought. Will it really be my home, too?

The Rangers had been kind to her. They had given up a part of their Headquarters to give her a place to stay. She had joined in on several of their craziest cases. But she wondered if they truly accepted her.

Am I finally going home?

* * *

Chip squished his way into Ranger Headquarters and marched into the fur fluffer. Gadget had converted her personal hair dryer into a shower stall-like device that served all the Rangers when they came in drenched. Chip let the surge of warm air from the fluffer’s floor grating dry his fur and jacket and stepped out, leaving his saturated fedora to tumble in the airstream for a while longer. Once it seemed dry as well, he reached in and snagged it. With a casual flip of the wrist, he sailed his trademark hat across the front room to snag neatly on a coat hook.

“Nice shot, Chip,” Gadget called as she entered from the kitchen with a pair of coffee cups. “You never miss.”

“I’ve missed,” Chip admitted as he took a seat at the conference table. “I just make it look like I planned it. Did you pick up anything from your police scanners?”

Gadget sat down heavily across from Chip, obviously frustrated, and slid his cup in front of him. “Not a thing. I’ve even been monitoring the detective’s car-to-car frequency. Not a peep about thefts from pet stores, laboratories or pet owners. There hasn’t been any hint of a mad scientist, evil genius or crackpot with a whacky agenda on the loose. Just the usual human larceny, fights and violence.” She shrugged. “A typical day.”

“Two dozen mice disappearing off the streets isn’t typical,” Chip said grimly. “Monty and Zipper are on stakeout in the restaurant district, and the feline crime kingpins never miss the Tuesday night fish special at Luigi’s. It’s tradition. If any of the cat capos are behind these mousenappings, he’s bound to gloat over it once he’s stuffed himself with salmon risotto.”

“Monty and Zipper will turn it into a ‘steak-out,’” Gadget smirked. “We won’t hear from them until well after dinner time.”

“Dale and Foxglove headed to Long Beach harbor to try to pick up a lead,” Chip said. “Foxglove can overhear almost any conversation, and crooks will admit the most heinous things in front of Dale because they think he’s harmless.”

“Harmless,” Gadget said softly. “Or defenseless.”

“How do you mean that?” Chip asked suspiciously.

“Foxglove’s very sophisticated. Very... worldly.” Gadget said, her voice a bit on edge. “We really don’t know very much about her.”

“Foxy’s been a great asset,” Chip pointed out. “She can fly, she has great hearing, she’s smart. Even if she can’t do very much magic so far, she’s got the potential to be a full-fledged sorceress if she can just find someone to teach her the fine points.”

“It’s not her relationship to the Rangers I’m worried about,” Gadget growled. “It’s her and Dale that worries me. I don’t think he knows what he’s getting into. He’s been up in Foxy’s attic awfully late.”

“He’s been up there all night, sometimes,” Chip confirmed. “It beats me what they’re doing.”

“I can hear what they’re doing,” Gadget said with a blush. “I don’t think they realize that I’m almost right under them.”

“They’re both adults,” Chip said. Then he considered his partner’s level of maturity. “Well, anyway, they’re of age. It really isn’t our place to butt in.”

“I don’t want Dale to get hurt,” Gadget said urgently. “I’m not sure he understands what it means to be in love.”

I’m not sure you do, either, Chip thought.

“What would you like to do?” Chip challenged. “Toss Foxy out to live in the street again? Tell her to leave Dale alone?”

“Of course not! I agree she’s been a lot of help. I just want to be sure of her intentions. I think we should sit down with her and have a serious talk about her future.”

“We sound more like Dale’s parents than his friends.”

“His parents are in Fort Lauderdale,” Gadget said pointedly. “They’d want us to look out for him.”

“He might not want us to look out for him. Maybe he’d like to make some mistakes for himself.”

“Not a mistake like this!” she said anxiously. “I’d never want to make a mistake with someone’s heart, especially not with my own!”

“Gadget, have you ever considered marriage?” he asked abruptly.

“Marriage!” Gadget gasped, her eyes widening. “Wha... What do you mean? Considered it to who!?”

“Just marriage,” Chip said calmly. “To anyone. Having a husband, children, your own family. It’s a simple question.”

“It’s not a simple question,” Gadget said firmly. “How could I be married and still be a Rescue Ranger? How could I take care of a family and still have time to work on my inventions?”

“It is so simple,” Chip gently insisted. “Have you thought about it? Yes or no?”

“How can I even think about it when I don’t know who might ask me?” she said, her lips set in a tense frown. “There are so many variables. So many ways it could all go wrong. It’s much too complicated and full of uncertainties to idly speculate about.”

“The others won’t be home for hours,” Chip said, seeming to abandon the question. “We’re not going to make any progress on the case until we can develop some leads.”

He reached across the table to her, lightly touching her hand.

“How about we take a little break?” Chip asked. “We can clear our heads and think better.”

Here we go again. Gadget thought. Let’s pretend we’re having fun while you try to solve the case. When will you ever take the time to sit down and talk seriously about our future?

“How about going to the Griffin Park Observatory to see the stars?” Chip ventured.

“It’s raining, Chip.” Gadget reminded him.

“I meant the planetarium.”

“You’ll end up looking through the big telescope at the city, trying to get a lead.”

“Okay, how about going to the movies?”

“You’ll MST the whole film and take notes on you’re best put-downs! True, they’re good lines, but...”

“I know! There’s a jazz recital at the Acorn Club tonight. Whadda ya say?”

“You’ll get lost in the music and forget I’m even there.” Gadget said. “Even if you don’t go up on stage and join in. And you should join in. You’re a wonderful musician, Chip. Whatever you’re planning, you go on without me. I have plenty to keep me busy right here.”

Do you really want me to go on without you? Chip thought.

“You won’t change your mind?” Chip asked gently.

“I have a couple of inventions I want to finish and test,” Gadget replied. “You know I like to be alone when I experiment. I don’t want to take any unnecessary chances.”

You’ve got to take a chance. Or you’ll live out your whole life alone. Chip thought the words, but couldn’t bring himself to speak them. He wasn’t even sure if he meant the words for Gadget or himself.

“I just hoped...” Chip paused and cocked an ear toward the front door. “Do you hear something?”

There was an odd, faint sound from the landing deck. Chip and Gadget hurried to the front door and threw it wide open.

Dale and Foxglove were there, home early. They were soaked and the rain continued to pour down, but they weren’t rushing for the door to get out of the rain. They were dancing.

Maybe it was a waltz. Possibly a polka. Perhaps it was a foxtrot. Most likey the step could never be named. Their impromptu choreography kept them touching even as they turned and wheeled around each other like two distant planets deep in the void of space. Slowly, they drew closer until they melted into each other’s arms oblivious to the rain, their friend’s stares, the whole world.

Seeing them, Chip reached for Gadget’s hand, but he couldn’t find it. He glanced over and saw her clutching her hands to her chest, her expression one of bewilderment and concern. Maybe even fear.

Chip turned away and closed his eyes. He recognized the dark, sinking feeling in his gut at once.

When a detective had a suspect in a case, the one he was certain was guilty, and then found the key evidence that proved he was barking up the wrong tree, there was only one thing to do.

Forget what you thought was the truth. Forget what you wanted the truth to be. And go with what the truth is.

Suddenly, it all made perfect sense. It was all so obviously clear.

You’re never going to feel what they feel, are you? Chip thought bitterly. Maybe you DO want to live out your life alone. I don’t.

And I won’t.

Chip felt something slip away from him then. Something he had always assumed would be his. Something within him quietly and completely died.

Gadget watched Dale and Foxglove dance and realized something she had never noticed before. What caught her eye was not the fact that they were smiling. It was that they had the same smile. They felt the same happiness, shared the same hope, just as they felt the same rain on their skin. Gadget watched them move to the music only lovers can hear and realized the two had become as one.

Seeing them dance, she remembered the first time she had been asked to dance in grade school. The parents urged their youngsters on, and one lad was heading straight for her as she nervously awaited him.

“You have to take a chance, Sweetie,” her Dad had assured her. “If we didn’t take chances, we’d never fly.”

All at once, it all made perfect sense. It was all so obviously clear.

And she felt something stir deep within her. Something she had never been aware of welled up and awoke inside her. Something she never suspected was a part of her budded and blossomed and became wonderfully alive.

She reached for Chip’s hand and couldn’t find it. He stood with his arms crossed and a cold, cynical expression.

Doggone it. Gadget thought. When am I ever going to get the chance to have a serious talk with you? When will the time be right?

“Chip, I take back everything I said about Foxy,” Gadget said contritely. “I don’t think Dale’s making a mistake at all.”

“No, Gadget, I agree with you. I think we should have a talk with Foxglove,” Chip said. “We should sit her down here, privately. We should make sure she understands how serious this all really is. That this is not all fun and games and easy heroics. And then we should say ‘Welcome to the Rescue Rangers.’”

“You always seem to know the right thing to say, Chip.”

If that were only true... Chip thought.

“I suppose we should get them out of the rain.” Chip sighed.

“Why?” Gadget asked, a wistful smile crossing her face. “It’s a beautiful day!”

* * *

Mystery, Perplexity And Odd Goings On.
Or,
Take A Supersonic, Dimension Crossing Jet Car With A Minor Oil Leak And Hang A Left At The Speed Of Sound.

In the great deserts like California’s Mojave, stillness is the norm and all that moves is a stranger. The sun baked and burned the desert, but as it slowly crossed the sky it remained a stranger. The wind passed through endlessly, but it too remained a stranger. Rain occasionally fell in torrents, as it did this day, but it also remained a stranger. No less a stranger than some of the animals that pursued even stranger ends.

On the edge of the desert stood a building whose stillness matched that of the desert. The dry air had preserved it far beyond memory of its human purpose, and only the few animals who lived in the arid neighborhood visited it as an occasional refuge. Up until recently, when the new group of animals brought movement and activity to the old structure.

A rat, his fur dark gray and wearing light blue coveralls, approached a dim light in the corner of the building, and the figure reading a document under the lamp.

“Doctor Cushing?” the gray rat said softly, “Are you sure you want us to pack and move again?”

The other rat turned to face him. His smooth gleaming white fur contrasted sharply with his black slacks and black turtleneck sweater. Over this he wore a starched lab coat, unbuttoned and impossibly clean. It gleamed like a sliver of moonlight, admitting just enough light to accent the darkness.

“That is the order, Lombard” Cushing said. “Is there a problem?”

“We only finished setting up a few weeks ago,” Lombard replied. “It seems unnecessary. It causes delays in the work.”

“Delays? Not at all. We will move when and where I say. The group in Cleveland lost their chance for a breakthrough by thinking their location was so secure they couldn’t be found. They were fortunate to escape with their skins. Our opponents expect a laboratory to be a fixture, so time is on our side as long as we remain mobile. We’re actually less conspicuous moving constantly than if we stayed in one place. This is California, after all.”

“Some of the crew aren’t happy with all the extra work. They’d like to have more opportunity for recreation. That was supposed to be a part of the deal.”

“The agreement is obedience to orders, then the rewards,” the doctor said flatly. “I will give those orders. Outside pressures will not affect the decisions. And neither will internal ones. Anyone who isn’t happy with their assignment, given the prize we’ve offered when we succeed, can always become a subject of the endeavor instead of a participant in it.”

“I’ll make sure they understand that, sir.”

“There’s no need to hurry, Lombard. We will be gone long before the threat appears, and we have plenty of time to take everything. Just be sure, before you leave, that our associate in the basement is available to greet anyone that comes snooping.”

* * *

In the skies above Los Angeles, helicopters were anything but strangers. Corporate helicopters and inter-airport taxis plied their way on their rounds. News and traffic reporting choppers for a dozen media outlets took advantage of the wide, flat L. A. basin to earn their keep. Fire department and Sheriff’s aircraft buzzed about doing their duty. It was hardly surprising that a four foot long twin rotor helicopter would go unnoticed in the gloom of one of the valley’s few rainy afternoons. Even one piloted by squirrels.

Gary guided the chopper on it’s way as the windshield wipers clicked out a rapid, merry tempo. Gordon sat next to him keeping a sharp eye out for any competitors for airspace they might have to dodge. In the seat behind and between them, Gadget snugged on a pair of socks and reached for the paratroop boots her friends had provided.

“Ahhh. Doowylloh.” Gordon said.

“Is that Gaelic?” Gadget asked.

“No,” Gordon said, pointing below them. “It’s Hollywood, backwards.”

She looked down to see the famous sign on the hill overlooking Tinseltown. As they passed over and viewed it from behind, the letters did indeed spell DOOWYLLOH.

“Very cute, Gordon,” she replied tersely.

“Dry as a bone all year,” Gordon observed. “Then it pours like a monsoon for a week. So much for ‘It Never Rains In Sunny California.’”

“Glad you could join us for our little foray,” Gary said. “We can use an extra pair of eyes.”

“You’re timing was perfect,” Gadget said as she finished tying her jump boots.

“That’s the one contingency we can’t prepare for,” Gordon responded. “Good timing.”

“Yeah,” Gadget acknowledged. “I just finished cleaning up after my new Solid Fuel Toaster Oven blew up.”

“Blew up!?” the Scruffies chorused.

“Are you okay?” Gary asked.

“I’m fine,” Gadget assured. “I just got the English muffin setting a bit too toasty.”

“Is everyone else okay?” Gordon inquired.

“Of course,” Gadget said. “No one else was even there. Monty and Zipper went to the Sepuldava Dam Surfing Competition. Dale and Foxglove are taking in the “Lord of the Rings” triple feature. Foxy wanted to take notes on Gandalf’s technique. And Chip is... well, he took off on his own. Anyway, I keep everyone away from my workshop when I try an experiment for the first time.”

Gary eyed her skeptically. “That’s not what you said happened with the the Turbo-Centrifugal Pasta Strainer,”

“That was a prototype,” Gadget said curtly, “not an experiment, and nobody got hurt. Things just got sorta messy. I’ll get the Toaster Oven working right. No problem!”

Gary and Gordon flinched when she spoke those fateful words. The Mysterious Forces of the Universe apparently didn’t catch it, as the world continued to exist.

“Isn’t something bad supposed to happen when you say ‘no problem?’” Gordon asked nervously.

“That is a complete fabrication!” Gadget snapped. “And all the times something bad happened were just coincidences!”

An ominous shudder rolled through the chopper. Gadget looked around in alarm and she gripped the seat arms tightly.

“Oops,” Gary said with a wicked smile. “Got the rotor pitch off a bit.”

“As if I don’t have enough trouble with the Rangers,” Gadget groused. “They’re always worried that I’ll damage something or hurt myself, and I’m always very careful when I experiment.”

Gary and Gordon exchanged wary glances. Gadget was obviously not her usual upbeat self. She was edgy, a bit sharp tongued, and the tip of her tail twitched incessantly. The Two Scruffy Guys silently concluded that the weather was not the only storm brewing.

“Why is everyone out of the Headquarters today?” Gordon asked. “No cases in store?”

“Just the opposite,” Gadget said. “We have a very baffling case but we haven’t made a bit of progress. Chip thought if we took a break, we might come up with some new ideas or run across a clue we’ve overlooked. To be honest, I think he just wanted everyone out of his hair.

“It started two weeks ago,” Gadget continued. “Mice began to disappear off the street or out of their homes all over town. The only thing they appear to have in common is that they’re all about my age. None too old, none too young. Whoever’s doing it, they’re careful to not be seen and they leave almost no clues.”

“Could it be Prof. Nimnul again?” Gary asked. “Rat Capone? Fat Cat?”

“We checked all the usual suspects,” Gadget said sadly. “Not so much as a stray whisker. It’s eerie. We haven’t found any trace of almost sixty mice. Mice get killed in traffic accidents or lethal traps. But there’s always evidence, even if they’ve been caught by a cat. These poor creatures have just vanished. I’m ready to start scanning for flying saucers.”

“Keep watching the skies,” Gordon intoned ominously. “There are squirrels in helicopters.”

“Chip actually took a day off with a mystery pending?” Gary puzzled.

“Oh, not him,” Gadget grumbled. “He’s still on the case. I’d hoped to go somewhere to talk with him about... Well, about things in general. But Chip will just keep looking for clues and questioning anyone we meet. He can’t let go of the case for anything.”

“Why didn’t you go along with him?” Gordon suggested. “You could have steered him away from the case long enough for a conversation.”

“Once he’s on the case, nothing else exists for him” Gadget said pointedly. “But he sure seemed disappointed when I told him to go ahead alone.”

“He seems to be a very dedicated detective,” Gordon said.

“I don’t see why he can’t stop being a detective for one evening and have a serious talk.” Gadget said crossly.

“As much time as you spend together,” Gary asked, “you can’t just sit down and chat?”

“Not and have the talk I want to have. Privately,” Gadget said thoughtfully. “It’s funny how fast people change. Last week he was so eager to have me go out with him. This morning he hardly seemed to care.”

“Well, rest assured, we’re glad you were available for a search party,” Gary said. “This is an oddball mission even for us.”

“That’s right,” Gadget said, bringing her attention to the task at hand. “I forgot to ask what we’re doing this afternoon.”

“Chucky’s had us on stand-by for over a week,” Gordon said. “All he told us was that someone is operating in secret in the L.A. area. He assigned us to check out some old abandoned building outside of Barstow. I’m betting it’s connected with reports we’ve heard of stolen chemicals and laboratory materials. It’ll probably turn out to be just a bunch of humans with some kind of drug lab. Chucky doesn’t seem sure animals are involved. Maybe he just wants to be certain they’re not.”

“Mr. Omega didn’t even tell what you’re actually looking for?” Gadget asked.

“We don’t always find out why we get an assignment,” Gary said. “It’s the nature of secret ops. We’ve scouted three other locations and each time we found evidence of a laboratory, but they bugged out before we got to them. These jokers are slippery.”

“So you don’t know who you’re looking for either,” Gadget said. “Quite a mystery.”

“There have been rumors in the underworld of someone recruiting from the criminal element,” Gordon said. “Gangsters, thieves, hit rodents, thugs. You name it. There’s word about “samples” of something being moved around and offers being made to animal underworld figures and foreign powers. But samples of what, or for what, we don’t know.”

“If someone’s making samples of drugs,” Gadget observed, “it makes sense.”

“Or the two could be completely unrelated,” Gordon pointed out. “We could find samples of anything from fake Godivia chocolate to uranium hexafluoride. We’re going to have to stay sharp on this mission.”

Out of the curtain of rain a dark shape appeared on the desert floor. Gary slowed the chopper as they came closer and the elderly single story wood frame building became clearer ahead.

“I think that’s our target,” Gary stated. “This is the right area and there’s nothing else around.”

“Lookie there, John Westinghouse,” Gordon said, pointing to a spinning ventilator fan. “The electricity’s on.”

“That place looks abandoned,” Gadget said. “There’s no electric meter. Do you think someone put a jumper cable in the service panel?”

“Or a tap connection just above it,” Gary agreed. “A typical small animal caper. If they haven’t had time to disconnect the power, we might get the drop on them.”

Gary reduced power to idle and let the chopper autorotate to a gentle and nearly silent landing. The trio clambered out and dashed through the rain for the building. Gordon gestured toward his ear and Gadget quickly switched her radio headset over to the proper frequency.

“Keep on your toes, John Innovator,” Gordon advised. “These characters have left boobytraps and tailgunners in the past.”

“Tailgunners?” Gadget puzzled.

“A rear guard to pick off searchers,” Gary explained. “Even if the place looks deserted, be careful. If you spot anyone sneaking around, sing out.”

The trio split up, maintaining contact through their radio headsets. They swept quickly through the nearly empty building. Light filtered in through a few dusty windows. The large space held only some disused workshop furnishings and long defunct tools. There appeared to be no life at all. Only some rodent footprints, cold air and colder scents.

“It looks like there’s some broken glass here,” Gadget reported.

“We’ve found broken glass at other sites.“ Gary responded “Don’t go near it.”

“Too late,” Gadget admitted. “This particular glass looks very familiar.”

“I’m sure it does, John Curious. Don’t touch any of it,” Gary warned.

“Too late,” Gadget confessed. “I’m pretty sure this was laboratory glassware. Human made stuff. There’s a Pyrex symbol here.”

“Well, for Heaven’s sake, don’t sniff it!” Gary said urgently. “It could be contaminated!”

Gary sighed deeply as Gadget’s silence told the story. “Don’t tell me... Too late?”

“All I can smell is dishwashing soap,” she replied sheepishly “Why would they wash it just to break it?”

“Hiding evidence of whatever they used the glassware for,” Gordon explained. “I found some busted glass over here, too. This is just like the last time.”

“Dang it!” Gary said angrily. “We’re too late again!”

“Let’s finish the search” Gordon advised. “They might have missed something.”

Gadget and the Two Scruffy Guys searched the unlit basement last. As Gadget finished her fruitless sweep, she passed near the heater blower just as it came on. She paused in front of the grille to warm herself. She never got used to the fact that there were times, even at midday, when the desert could be bitterly cold.

She decided to go on with the search and turned...

She tried to turn. She wanted to turn. She willed herself to turn.

Nothing happened. She couldn’t move. Not her legs. Not her arms. Even her head was immobile. She could hardly force her eyes to move. She began to feel consternation turning to fright inside her, but her fear was as trapped in her motionless body as her willpower.

“John Cheeky, have you found anything else?”

“Not a thing that’s useful, John Zygoma.”

She tried to speak, to call for help. Even her voice would not obey her. She couldn’t squeeze a sound from her throat. Her breath came in rapid, shallow pants that made no sound. She couldn’t even gasp an S.O.S.

Her friends were quiet again. Then Gadget heard a soft whisper of sound, almost too soft to make out. The finest sandpaper being lightly stroked across the smoothest wood made such a sound. She managed to ratchet her eyes in the direction of the sound. All she could see was a gently rippled texture, a pattern of sharply angled color that stretched out of her vision either way. And then she made out one more thing.

It breathed.

Rattlesnake! The knowledge instantly shot pure terror through her. She wanted the scream. To run as fast as her legs could carry her. Her traitorous body would not move. She tried to force down the panic and use her mind before it failed her as well.

He can’t see me. Gadget thought. Too dark. His thermal sense can’t pick me up with the heater masking my heat signature. He’s flicking his tongue. He can smell me, but with the blower going he can’t zero in on my scent.

She heard the sandpaper sound again. The snake was on the move. It slid into the darkness just inches from her.

NOW! RUN! her thoughts commanded. Nothing happened. She was as rooted to the spot as her oak tree home.

“John Cookbook, I’ve finished this end,” Gordon said.

“I’ve just got a bit left to check, John Bumbleberry,” Gary answered. “How about you John Pretty Eyes?”

Gadget strained to at least sniffle. No dice.

“She’s not answering! Where was she last?” Gary said in alarm.

“East wall, by the workbench with the big vise,” Gordon responded.

“Move it! Find her!”

At least they missed me, she thought. She tried to control her breathing and managed to slow it a little and force deeper breaths. It gave her a small sense of triumph.

A few more seconds ticked laboriously by. She heard a different sort of rustle, very close.

“I see her,” Gary advised. “She’s in front of the heater vent. She’s standing but she isn’t moving. Going in.”

A few seconds later, Gary moved his head in front of her, his face lined with deep concern.

“Gadget? Are you okay?” Her eyes flashed with recognition and fear. He could see she was conscious. He took hold of her arms and pushed. He couldn’t move them, as hard as he tried. It was as if she were made of stone.

“I’ve got her, John Ripsaw,” Gary advised. “She’s frozen. She can’t talk. I’m moving her behind this gearbox along the east wall.”

Gary picked her up. It was like moving a display mannequin, her arms and legs still locked in place. He cradled her head and quickly moved them both out of sight. Again he positioned himself where she could see him.

“It’s all right. You’re safe now. Just try to relax,” he said reassuringly.

Gadget instead closed her eyes. She grimaced as she put all her effort into making her mouth form one nearly breathless word.

“Rattlesnake!” she whispered desperately.

“She saw a rattlesnake, John Slither!” Gary called. “Get up high!”

“Halfway to the ceiling, John Sidewinder! Need a hand?”

“No, I’ve got her.” Gary picked up her awkwardly posed body and scrambled for the rafters with the agility only a squirrel could manage. He found Gordon on a high window sill that looked out at ground level and perched Gadget safely away from the edge.

“We’re okay, Gadget,” Gary assured. “Rattlesnakes aren’t good climbers, and we’ll see him coming a mile off up here. Just take it easy.”

“What happened to her?” Gordon asked. “She looks like she got hit with a Scrooch gun.”

“Gadget froze,” Gary said. “She heard or scented that snake before she saw it and she froze on the spot. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of it.”

“I never saw anything like it,” Gordon said.

Her breath now came in deep, painful gulps. Gary began to gently rub her arms while Gordon worked his thumbs along her shoulders and neck.

“Guys. Stop.” Gadget managed to gasp. “Every... thing’s... pins and... needles. I’m... all cramps. Ow. Ow.”

“What do you mean ‘she froze?’” Gordon prodded. “She knows better than to stand in the open with a rattler around.”

“It’s not like she thought it was a good idea. She... Whoops! Okay, we’ve got you.”

Gadget’s knees suddenly buckled and the Scruffies caught her before she could fall. Gary quickly seated himself under the window and Gordon lowered Gadget to sit beside him, resting against him like a big pillow.

“Squeak,” she whimpered. “And I mean squeak.”

“Just relax,” Gary said soothingly. “It’ll be a few minutes before you can move again.”

“Oh, golly,” Gadget groaned. “I feel like I just went for a ride in a rock tumbler.”

“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Gordon insisted.

“Old and powerful instincts,” Gary explained. “It’s really strong in mice. When a natural predator comes near, especially a snake, and there’s no easy escape, mice sometimes freeze. Their muscles go tight and can’t be moved. It’s involuntary. It keeps them from giving away their position and being eaten.” He gently brushed Gadget’s hair away from her face. “Sometimes I forget what a sheltered life you’ve had.”

“Sheltered?” Gadget complained. “Gary, I’ve traveled all over the world.”

“The civilized part, you mean. Human cities or rodent society, mostly. You haven’t had to confront wild predators often, or that snake wouldn’t have caused you to freeze.”

Gordon regarded Gary with a wry frown. “You’re very well briefed on the mysteries of mouse instincts, John Mus. Why would that be?”

“In case you haven’t noticed, John Skeptic, we have a mouse on the team now. Not to mention my aunt Pauline happens to be a mouse.”

“It’s too bad we didn’t find what you’re looking for,” Gadget said. “I guess I should get home before the guys wonder where I am.”

“I thought you said everyone was out,” Gordon said. “They were taking an evening off.”

“Someone will be home eventually,” Gadget said, her voice sounding tired. “I’ll be okay.”

“If you’re not sure there’s anyone at home to look after you,” Gary said firmly, “we’re not going to dump you there. You need a chance to recover.”

“No. I’m okay.” she crabbed unconvincingly.

“You’re as limp as a wet dishrag,” Gary scolded. “You can’t even hold your head up.”

“Yes I can.” She did try, but only her eyes managed to look up. “There! See?”

“Gadget,” Gary chided, “the only reason your head isn’t on the floor is that your muzzle is resting on your boobs.”

“Gary! Watch your language!” Gadget snapped.

“Oh, sorry,” he said with false innocence. “Hooters?”

“Cut it out!” she insisted. “You could just say ‘chest.’”

“No,” he teased, “your chest is what you’re golden bozos are attached to.”

“Now you’re being deliberately provocative,” Gadget said frostily. “Just stop.”

Gordon began to work on her again, massaging the toxins and stiffness out of her muscles. She ordinarily wouldn’t stand for being handled thus, but Gordon kneaded her with all the romantic interest of a baker with bread dough.

“Guys, I should be fine in half an hour,” she said.

“You’re not going anywhere until you have a chance to rest up,” Gary insisted. “We’ll take you back to the Nest Egg for now. We can take you home tonight.”

“We’re going on alert as soon as we get back.” Gordon reminded him.

“Shoot, that’s right,” Gary frowned at the alternatives before him. “Maybe we should drop you at home.”

“What are you going on?” Gadget asked.

“We’ll be on two minutes notice to respond to any contacts,” Gary said. “There are ground search teams on this operation all over the Los Angeles area, but there aren’t enough aircraft to cover everything around the clock. So we take turns waiting for a call from a team that’s found something.”

“It’s something like being on duty at the fire station, waiting for the alarm to ring.” Gordon said.

“Or a fighter interceptor on scramble,” Gary said. “If the horn blows, you go.”

“It sounds like it might be interesting,” Gadget said. “Why don’t I stay with you two? If something happens I can help you out. And you won’t have to worry about leaving me alone.”

* * *

Squirrel Scrambles, Sensual Seasons and SCAVORC
Or,
You Can Sing, You Can Dance, But Never Pull A Gun On The Band.

Gadget watched out the chopper’s windshield as Gary aimed the speeding craft for a wall of solid rock. His timing was too skilled to alarm her, and she smiled as the thoroughly camouflaged hanger door of the Nest Egg rolled open to receive the helicopter.

As Gordon began securing the chopper, Gadget walked from the hanger to the living quarters with Gary trailing behind. Gadget went straight to the living room telephone and tapped out a number. Her absence may have already been noticed and she wanted to scotch any concerns.

“Hi, Tammy,” Gadget said pleasantly into the phone. “Can you see from your window if anyone came home to Ranger Headquarters? They haven’t?” Her voice lowered in disappointment. “No one even knows I’m gone, then.”

Gadget looked startled as Gary approached. “What? No! Tammy...? Tammy, everything’s all right. I haven’t been mousenapped.” She smiled at Gary as he caught on to Tammy’s concern. “I’m going to check out some new toaster fuel formulas at the Jet Propulsion Laboratories and it’ll take most of the day so I’m going to sleep over. Just tell Chip or Monty I’ll be home tomorrow. Okay? Bye.”

Gadget placed the phone back on the hook. Gary noticed her dejected expression and the forlorn slump in her posture.

“Is something wrong at home?” he asked.

“Not at home,” Gadget said sadly. “I’m wondering if there’s something wrong with me. I used to hate even the thought of telling a lie to my friends. Now it’s become a challenge to fool them about where I am and what I’m doing.”

“We’ve never insisted that you to keep us a secret,” Gary said. “If it’s going to cause troubles in your home, tell them the truth.”

“And then what? You said you two survive on secrecy. What would happen if I told the Rangers about you?”

The idea clearly made Gary uncomfortable. “Well, Lord knows, the Rescue Rangers are as trustworthy as they come. But Gordon and I have been pushing the envelope just bringing you along with us. We could have been in big trouble except for the fact that you’re so talented and capable and that we need you so badly. I don’t suppose the Rangers would let you slip out alone once they knew?”

“Of course not. Once they knew I was doing something hazardous, they’d follow me wherever I went. We’re family.”

“That’s what I thought. That’d make seven or eight of us showing up on a mission. Pretty hard to sneak around with those numbers.”

“You’re dodging the question,” Gadget said pointedly. “What would that mean?”

“If you told them... That would be a complete breech in our security. We might have to have no further contact with you.”

“Might?”

“Well, probably.” Gary confessed.

“I don’t want that to happen! The work you’re doing is just as important as anything the Rangers do. If I can help, I will.” She turned away, her eyes downcast. “If only I didn’t have to tell them fibs about where I was. Gary, is it wrong for me to feel this way? Is it wrong for me to be untruthful with my friends?”

“I don’t mean to sound evasive, but it depends on why.”

“I thought it was always wrong to lie.”

“Not necessarily,” Gary said. “You can be untruthful in order to avoid doing harm.”

“I’m not sure that’s reasonable,” she replied. “Dad said telling a lie was a terrible thing to do.”

“All right,” Gary said. “Let’s consider what your Dad might have done. Think way back, to the first time you cooked something for your Dad.”

“Oh, gosh,” Gadget groaned. “I remember. I was eight years old and I baked cookies.”

“What did your Dad say about them?”

“He said they were wonderful. The best he’d ever had.”

“And were they?”

“I see what you’re getting at,” Gadget said. “They were awful. I used too much sugar and not enough flour and I burned the bottoms. I don’t know how he managed to choke them down.”

“So, should he have told the absolute truth to his little girl and made her not want to learn to cook? Or should he have fibbed and given her the encouragement to try again?”

“You’re saying there are white lies and evil lies, aren’t you?”

“There are different reasons and motives for being untruthful. You can do it for reasons that are self-serving, duplicitous, criminal and hurtful. Or you can try to protect someone from harsh and painful truth.

“We operate much like a military unit, Gadget, and deception is a part of military action. You can win fights with it. You can save lives with it. And sometimes it’s simply the only way.”

“It’s true that the Rescue Rangers have tricked and hoodwinked villains. But these are my friends I’m fooling.”

“Who it is isn’t what matters. It’s why you do it. You’ve tricked bad guys to prevent them from doing harm. Telling the Rangers a bit of flimflam keeps them safe, and me and Gordo as well.”

The public address system keyed up and Gordon’s voice echoed through the Nest Egg in an overdone Texas drawl.

“My fellow ‘Mericans. The Two Scruffy Guys and their secret weapon, Gadget Hackwrench, are now the alert air asset, and are all that stand between the forces of Eeeeevil and the total destruction of animal civilization. Run for your lives!!”

They heard the microphone clatter to the floor and Gordon running about, shrieking.

“Well,” Gadget chuckled, “I thought this would be an interesting afternoon.”

* * *

Gadget changed her clothes in the bedroom the Scruffies kept for her use. On the occasions she accompanied them on their missions, she felt a strong urge to blend in, and to somewhat disguise herself. She slipped into a sage green flight suit that was a match for her friend’s flying clothes as well as a comfortable equivalent to her usual jumpsuit. As she finished dressing, she heard her colleague’s voices rise in angry volume from the front room. A loud discussion between Gary and Gordon was rapidly escalating into a fight, and she hurried out the door.

She stopped in the hallway that led from the bedrooms, listening to Gary and Gordon argue. The original cause of the dispute had been lost in the heat of their emotions. She tried to remain unnoticed as the pair shouted at each other at nose-to-nose range, loud enough to make the dining room crystal ring. She stood, wide eyed, her hand clamped over her mouth, trying desperately to stay quiet. To let them get it over with. To let them finish it without her intervention.

And without her busting out laughing.

“Duck season!” Gary shouted.

“Rabbit season!” Gordon roared back.

“Duck season!”

“Rabbit season!”

“DUCK season!”

“RRRRABBIT season!”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Gadget couldn’t contain herself any longer. “You two are so silly! I can’t stand it! HAHAHAHAHA!”

Gadget gave in to a fit of raucous laughter and the Two Scruffy Guys fixed her with a dour glare, then turned back to eye each other as her laughter slowly subsided. Gary waggled his eyebrows at his partner and broke the silence.

“Mating season!” Gary declared, and dashed after Gadget.

“Let’s get her!” Gordon agreed, taking up the chase behind him.

“WHAT?” Gadget cried. “AAAAAKK! Wait a minute!” She took off running across the room just barely avoiding Gary’s grasp.

“Get her, get her, get her!” Gordon yelled. “I’ll bet she’s ticklish someplace! You try above the waist and I’ll try below!”

“NO! Don’t you dare!” she shrieked. “HAHAHAHAHAHA! EEEEEEEEK!”

Gadget led the way around the great oval living room, hurdling the couch and dodging around the chairs, delightedly skipping away from her friend’s comic pursuit. She knew Gary and Gordon could have easily outrun her, or just split up and cut her off. Instead they followed her single file, Gary close behind, grabbing for the tip of her fast-moving tail. Gordon right after him, shouting encouragement, his arms and legs churning at three times the speed of his actual forward progress.

“Heeheeheehee! Gadget laughed. “You two maniacs! STOP it! Eeeeek!”

She was genuinely enjoying the chase when the coldly logical part of her brain intruded on the fun. An article she had read weeks before popped into her mind:

“...far from a pleasant frolic, it was once necessary for squirrels to engage in vigorous pursuit in order to be prepared for physical mating...”

Pursuit? Mating? Gadget thought. What am I doing!!!?

The thought stopped her dead in her tracks. Gary, intent on grabbing her tail tip, collided with her and they went down in a heap. Gordon faked the sound of screeching brakes before flinging himself on top of his piled-up friends.

“Ahhhh! Ooohhf! Get off me!” Gadget shouted, a bit of panic edging into her voice.

“Gordon, get up,” Gary laughed.

Gordon struggled briefly, off balance. “Hold it! I’m stuck!”

“Stuck!” Gadget squeaked. “Whata you mean, stuck!?”

“I’m stuck!”

“Oh golly! Get off me! You’re squashing me!”

“Move it, buckshot butt,” Gary said as he heaved Gordon aside by brute force.

“Hey, careful!” Gordon protested. “I don’t need my knee twisted again.”

A moment later, Gadget squirted free and scrabbled away from the guys, firmly wedging her backside into a corner between the wall and the bookcase.

“Are you two under control?” Gadget asked, wide eyed. “I mean, are you all right?”

“We’re fine,” Gary said, noticing her distress. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! Just... peachy. Don’t come near me!” she demanded.

Gadget had braced herself firmly in the corner. Her arms were tucked tightly into her sides with her hands forward and open like claws. She had shifted her balance to her back foot and drawn her other leg up as if ready to kick. Gary and Gordon recognized the stance. Gadget was ready to fight to the finish.

“Okay,” Gordon said gently. “No problem. We won’t touch you. Gary, I need you to help me re-light the pilot light on the stove.”

“Yeah,” Gary replied. “Right with you.”

The pair stepped quickly away from Gadget and into the kitchen. The moment the door swung shut, Gary smacked his palm against his forehead in disgust.

“Well, I really fouled that up.”

“We fouled it up, partner,” Gordon replied. “I didn’t think Gadget would react like that. Not after all this time.”

“All this time?” Gary said. “She’s been with us for, what, a total of two weeks in the last four months? You saw how she backed into that corner.”

“Yeah,” Gordon agreed. “I don’t have to look that up in the manual. She thought we were going to pounce on her.”

They had seen it any number of times, most often with rodents they had rescued from great danger. Females who suddenly felt endangered would back into a corner in an effort to protect themselves. The Nest Egg’s gently curving walls were supposed to be calming and reassuring, but they could be panic-inducing under the wrong circumstances. For that reason the Two Scruffy Guys had arranged some of the furniture to offer comforting corners that could stave off hysteria.

Funny. Gadget thought. Why would they want to light the pilot on a range with electric ignition? Gadget relaxed and allowed a soft chuckle. The playful chase and accidental collision had somehow been overly exciting. Her skin felt electrified, as if the slightest touch anywhere would set her to giggling. Backing into the corner had given her the best chance to defend her really ticklish spots, just as it would if someone were trying to...

Gadget gasped in shock and pushed herself forcefully out of the corner as she realized how her action must have looked.

Oh, great, she thought. They’re gonna think that I was thinking that they were thinking... The thought didn’t bear finishing.

I’ve gotta do something, or they'll think I don't trust them. She concluded as she headed into the kitchen with a hastily made plan for damage control.

“Hey, Gordo!” she said jauntily. She walked up to him and gave him a warm hug, pinning his arms. “Thanks for the exercise. I needed to work out the kinks... I mean, I feel a lot better getting in a bit of jogging.”

“Oh.” Gordon said, unconvinced. “Think nothing of it.”

She turned to Gary and stopped short. His pained expression made it clear he wasn’t fooled.

“Gadget, I’m sorry,” Gary said regretfully. “You don’t have to pretend. I know we frightened you...”

“No, it’s my fault,” she said. “I... I overreacted. You were just having fun.”

“Don’t apologize,” Gary said gently. “We shouldn’t have been roughhousing that way.”

“Gary, I wasn’t scared!” Gadget insisted. “Neither of you would ever do anything to harm me. Don’t you think I know that?”

She hesitated, then held out her arms. He opened his arms in turn and accepted her hug. His arm brushed her face and she rubbed her cheek against it, savoring the feel.

“Golly, you’ve got soft fur,” Gadget said. “Are all flying squirrels like that?”

“Well... yeah, I suppose so.” Gary said modestly.

“Don’t let him fool you,” Gordon chimed in. “He uses fur conditioner and creme rinse.”

“Gadget,” Gary began as he released her from his arms, “we’ll be more careful about...”

“I wasn’t afraid!” Gadget asserted. “I was just...”

Gary had that sorrowful, disbelieving expression again.

“Okay,” Gadget conceded. “The truth is I’m horribly ticklish, and if I laugh too much I get awful hiccups and I can’t stop hiccuping. That’s the only reason I backed away from you like that.”

“I don’t believe her,” Gordon said bluntly. “I think we scared her.”

“I’m not fibbing!” Gadget said. “I am ticklish.”

“We’ll have to put her to the test,” Gary said grimly.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Gadget warned, backing away into a corner again. “You try to tickle me and I’ll start punching!”

“I won’t touch you,” Gary assured as he approached her. “Except here.”

He gently took her by the wrists and held her hands in front of her, away from her body. She could see that he couldn’t tickle with his hands occupied, and she regarded him with curiosity. He bent down and whispered in her ear.

“Tickling is a state of mind, Gadget,” Gary breathed. “I’m going to remind you of fingertips snuggling into your fur and finding the soft, sensitive skin beneath...”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Gadget protested.

His fingers did no such thing. He continued to grip Gadget’s wrists as she began to squirm.

“Knowledgeable fingers,” he went on. “Fingers that touch and stroke and probe and feel their way across every millimeter of you...”

“Heeheeheehee,” Gadget giggled. “Don’t! Cut it out! Teeheeheehee!”

“And what those fingers don’t know, they’ll learn,” he whispered with luscious passion. “They’ll explore your body, seeking the unspoken, sensitive place that’s completely beyond your control and they’ll go tickletickletickle!”

“EEEEEEEEEEEEE!!” she shrieked. “HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Gary had to release Gadget’s hands and brace her by her shoulders to keep her from toppling to the floor. She tucked her freed arms protectively into her body, subtly revealing her most sensitive spot. Gary held her carefully as she regained control of herself.

“Wow,” he said. “She is really ticklish!”

“I haven’t seen one like this in a long time,” Gordon agreed.

“We’ve discovered a very critical weakness,” Gary said with mock seriousness. “We’ll have to keep this utterly secret. Unless we have to extract vital information from her. Like... when her birthday is.”

“February sixteenth,” Gadget said quickly. “I’m not going to give you two an excuse for chasing me around again.”

“Especially,” Gordon grinned, “when that chasing makes you think about ancient squirrels pursuing their breeding partners.”

Gadget turned on him sharply. “Gordon! So help me, if you really are reading my mind I’m gonna... I don’t know! Wrap my head in aluminum foil!”

“C’mon,” Gordon scoffed. “I’m no mind reader. I’m just a good guesser. Besides, all that ‘squirrels chasing their mates’ stuff is from pre-history. Nowadays, we don’t wait for any particular season. We’ll getcha any ol’ time!”

“Gor-don!” Gadget complained mildly. “What a thing to say!”

She shook her head ruefully as the pair chuckled at their little “gotcha.” Gadget realized that these two were setting off alarms inside her. Not the raucous, “ahhhoooogaaa, red alert” alarms, but the gentle, tinkling “time to wake up” alarms. What that meant, exactly, she couldn’t fathom. She decided to give it more thought later.

“I’m going to check in with the Panic Center, John Obvious.” Gary said as he headed out the kitchen door.

“Okay,” Gordon called after him. “I filed our report about Barstow. See if they sent us an update, John Conspicuous.”

“Why is everyone suddenly named John?” Gadget inquired. “Including me?”

“Must be a coincidence,” Gordon smirked. “Oh, we got new coffee mugs. Personalized ones. Here’s yours.”

He handed her a mouse sized mug. It was emblazoned with the corporate logo of Yoyodyne Propulsion Systems, and it was personalized. With the name “John.” Gary and Gordon’s cups also read “John.”

“What is this...?” Gadget snapped her fingers as she made the connection. “You two have been watching Buckaroo Banzai, haven’t you?”

“It’s such a rip!” Gordon confirmed. “We borrowed the DVD and got hooked on it.”

“We watched it during one of the cult cinema festivals on TV,” Gadget said. “It was neat to see the way they filmed it all over Los Angeles. It’s a really fun movie.”

“It’s not all fiction,” Gordon warned. “Some of it is based on absolute fact.”

“Don’t tell me,” Gadget guessed. “There really are Lectroids?”

“No. The federal government really does work like that.” Gordon hoisted his coffee cup in salute and intoned, “Declaration of War, The Short Form.”

Gadget poured coffee into her new mug, set it down and turned to get the cream pitcher. Suddenly, she backpedaled to Gordon.

“AAHHHH! Gordon! It’s moving!”

“Your coffee cup isn’t supposed to move?” he asked, bewildered.

“It’s the coffee!” Gadget howled, taking cover behind Gordon’s brawny body “It isn’t supposed to be alive!”

“I don’t think it’s alive,” Gordon said nervously, as he saw what had alarmed Gadget. “Just sorta... mobile.”

The “coffee” crawled with an amoeba-like motion out of Gadget’s cup and plopped onto the counter, struggled in silent desperation across to the coffee maker and climbed laboriously up the side of the coffee pot. It inched slowly over the lip and, giving a final heave, slurped back into the ooze from whence it came.

“I have seen scary things in my life,” Gadget quavered. “I have done scary things. I have built scary things! But that...! That beats them all! Don’t you dare get that... that stuff near me!”

“This one wasn’t so bad,” Gordon said with strained calm. “It was moving but it wasn’t, you know... Hunting.”

“Do you think some enemy of yours planted that here? Or was it Gary?”

“It was Gary, all right,” Gordon said positively. “You’ve got to watch it when he’s anywhere near the makings for coffee. He can have a pot brewed up in the time it takes to get the cream out of the ‘fridge.” He looked at his cup suspiciously. “I’ll bet he drank the last of my coffee and made that pot.”

“Gordon, you’ve got to stop him! Tell him not to make coffee anymore!”

“I have told him! I’ve told him 200 times! He won’t listen! He’s as much a coffee lover as you are.”

“Show him!” Gadget demanded. “Get him in here and let him see it!”

“I’ve tried that too! Half the time it won’t do anything when he’s watching! That or Gary convinces himself I’m pulling some absurd joke! I’ll bet if you tell him he won’t believe you either.”

“What in Heaven’s name does he put in there?” Gadget asked.

I’ve watched him do it. Coffee grounds, water, he turns the coffee maker on. I hardly blink and the pot’s full! And the things it does - you don’t know the half of it. Once my spoon dissolved in the cup, and the coffee burped!”

“Is it always something so dangerous?”

“No,” Gordon conceded. “Once he made some that was sort of a rainbow-in-a-cup.”

“You mean it was shades of brown?”

“Think of a cup full of photons. All different colors.”

“Oh. Must have been pretty.”

“Every time I tried to get Gary to look at it, it was plain coffee. Every time he turned away, it was a rainbow again. So help me, Gadget, it was mocking me!”

Gordon took the pot and their cups and carefully poured the contents down the drain. He set to work preparing replacement cups of nice, safe instant cocoa.

“It’s too bad Gary can’t be consistent,” Gadget said regretfully. “It sounds like we can’t even make lab notes on what he does. Maybe he’d come up with something that would be useful to the Rangers or your... What do you call the people you work for, anyway? Don’t have a name for your organization?”

“We actually work for several agencies,” Gordon said, “but our prime contractor doesn’t have an official moniker. It makes it a lot harder for our opponents to track us down. Just like the name game we play when we’re on the radios. Right now were all ‘John something.’ Next assignment we’ll think of a different scam. ‘Confusion to the enemy,’ and all that.”

“I’m going to get confused,” Gadget said. “I don’t even know how to talk about all this.”

“Well, there’s the name Gary calls the front office now and then.”

“Is it printable?” she asked suspiciously.

“Yeah. He calls it SCAVORC.”

“Ska-vork?”

“He says it stands for ‘Surveillance, Counterintelligence And Various Obtuse, Ridiculous Committees.’ He doesn’t have much use for bureaucracy or officiousness.”

“Mr. Omega mentioned Gary had a problem with authority.”

“When did you talk to Chucky?” Gordon asked in surprise.

“He visited me after we got back from Bikini,” Gadget said. “He told me some background, but he didn’t tell me a proper name for the outfit, either.”

“Did Chucky tell you why Gary has a problem with him?”

“Mr. Omega said one of Gary’s partners was killed on a case, and that Gary blamed him for it.”

“That’s all he told you?” Gordon asked. “It figures. Chucky didn’t tell you the whole story. He’s so used to keeping secrets I don’t think he tells the whole truth about anything anymore. I swear, if he read ‘The Prince and the Pauper’ he probably wouldn’t tell you who ended up as king.”

“What else is there to tell? What happened?”

Gordon settled himself on the stool at the breakfast bar and looked away with a serious expression. Gadget slid onto the stool next to him and kept quiet. She suspected he was trying to decide what and how much he could tell her without revealing forbidden secrets.

“It was while I was married and out of the service,” Gordon began. “Gary was in charge of a raiding party. He wanted to keep half of his team out of it because they didn’t have much experience. Chucky ordered them all in anyway. It was a nightmare. Everything went to blazes in the first five minutes. By rights, nobody should have come out alive. It’s a miracle Gary only lost one of the team.”

“Gary said he’d lost friends before,” Gadget said. “Why did this one affect him so badly?”

“Gary’s partner was Robert Omega. Chucky’s oldest son.”

“Oh, no!” Gadget gasped. “So Gary really blames himself for his death?”

“No, he really blames Chucky,” Gordon confirmed. “Gadget, I’ve read the after-action reports of that incident. Gary was doing exactly what he was supposed to be doing when Robbie got it. Heck, if I’d been in Robbie’s place, I might not have made it. Gary doesn’t have a dang thing to feel guilty about.”

“Knowing how he is,” Gadget said, “he probably feels guilty anyway. Was Gary right about his partner? Should he have stayed behind?”

“It wasn’t the sort of thing where you can say, ‘He was right and you were wrong.’ Chucky wasn’t wrong for sending Gary’s team in, and Gary’s not wrong for thinking he shouldn’t have. It was a judgment call, and it was Chucky’s call to make.”

“Leadership and command,” Gadget said thoughtfully.

“Hmmm? How’s that?”

“Just something Mr. Omega said,” Gadget replied. “I’m beginning to understand what he meant.”

“Gordo, will you promise me something?” Gadget asked, changing subjects without a turn signal. “If I ask you something that might be sort of personal, will you give me an honest answer and not make fun of me?”

“If it’s an honest question, I certainly won’t make fun of you,” Gordon assured. “What is it.”

She hesitated, bracing herself for a shocking answer.

“Why do male squirrels always wear pants?”

“BWAHAHAHAHAHA,” Gordon erupted in a deep belly laugh. “Oh, no! Gadget you’re kidding, aren’t you?”

“You promised you wouldn’t make fun of me!” Gadget exclaimed in distress.

“I’m not! But I never expected that. What on earth brought that on?”

“G.G. mentioned it and I got curious,” Gadget said.

“Whoa. What did G.G. tell you about squirrels and pants?”

“G.G. hinted that the reason male squirrels wear pants was the same as why all female rodents wear skirts or pants.”

“Which reason do you mean? Because females are, shall we say, visually enticing?”

“Not exactly...” she said evasively.

“Oh, I know!” Gordon said. “She told you male squirrels give off pheromones like female rodents do, and that they make the opposite sex wonky unless they dissipate them by wearing something on their lower half. Was that it?”

“G.G. made it sound like it was both,” Gadget admitted. “She tricked me into asking Gary to, ummm... demonstrate.”

“I can imagine the rest!” Gordon said with delight. “That’s what all the shrieking was about last month! All this time I thought he put an ice cube down your back.” Gordon nodded knowingly. “That’s G.G. She pulled a time delayed long distance double gotcha. She’s unsurpassed at practical jokes.”

“Please, Gordon,” Gadget asked seriously. “What’s the truth?”

“The truth, Gadget, is that male squirrels are no different physically than male mice or chipmunks. You know what they say: ‘Down below, nothing shows.’ Except under very specific circumstances, when...”

“I know about that,” she said hurriedly. “I know... biology and everything. But... there’s no sneaky pheromones either?”

“Nope,” Gordon said. “Way back in pre-history, some male squirrels must have gotten tired of picking pine needles and bark bits out of their fannies and said, ‘The females have the right idea. Let’s wear something over our rumps.’ Since then, it’s like Scotsmen and kilts. It’s just become a tradition.”

“What about all those stories?”

“Kids make ‘em up.” he said. “Squirrels come up with the best ones. They’re all unprintable, nasty fantasies. With one important exception.”

“What’s that?”

“Me! In my case, they’re all true.”

“Gor-don! Behave yourself!” she reproved gently.

“You must have heard ‘squirrels and pants’ stories when you were growing up,” Gordon said. “Most mothers wash their kid’s mouths out with soap for telling them, or at least give them a stern lecture not to repeat them. Your mom must have told you something about them.”

“I never knew my mother or my real father, Gordon,” Gadget said softly. “I’m an orphan. Monterey Jack and my Dad - Geegaw, that is - found me in the wreckage of an airplane crash when I was a tiny baby. I was the only survivor. They looked for my relatives for almost a year before Dad adopted me.”

“I’m sorry,” Gordon said. “I didn’t know.”

“I’m surprised you didn’t know my birthday. I would have thought you’d just look in my dossier or something.”

“What!” Gordon spluttered, nearly inhaling his cocoa. “Are you out of your mind! I would never in a million years...!” He paused and calmed himself, remembering that she was not from the same background he was. “Gadget, a dossier is a weapon. You don’t turn a weapon on a friend.”

“Golly! I thought it was a sort of personnel file.”

“Oh, no. Everything you never wanted anyone to know about you is in a dossier. Every dirty secret, every nasty rumor, every vicious lie is in a dossier. If there’s a dossier on you, I never want to see it. We have to keep a lot of secrets in this business, but privacy can be very hard to come by. If there’s anything personal you want us to know, you’ll have to tell us yourself.”

“You must know a few things about me with all the time we’ve spent together,” Gadget said. “I’ve figured out things about you two just from observation.”

“Oh, you’ve been observing us, have you?” Gordon said with a leer. “What have you observed?”

“I know Gary went to the Air Force Academy.”

“How’d you know that?” Gordon asked, genuinely surprised.

“He has USAF embroidered on his swim trunks. He has that distinctive way of carrying himself. Military bearing, they call it. That, and he’s such a good pilot. And he couldn’t be Navy because neither of you know beans about the sea.”

“That’s pretty good. I’d heard you were as observant and keen on details as Chip.”

“You didn’t go to an academy, though. You’re not the military type. You’re too zany.”

“If you think the military mind isn’t zany, you haven’t seen Gary at the Mardi Gras.”

“There’s just a bit of an accent in your voice,” Gadget said, her eyes narrowing as she examined him. “I’ll bet you’re from Minnesota.”

“Duluth. That’s pretty sharp observation.”

“You didn’t go to school there, though. You have too much of a technical streak. But you like having you’re family close, so you wouldn’t want to be far from home.” She puzzled over the facts for a moment. “I’ll bet it’s U. of Illinois. Chicago?”

“Close. Champaign-Urbana. Squirrels favor it because there’re more trees. You are a good detective.”

“It’s not that difficult,” she said modestly. “You must know things about me just from observation.”

“Okay, I’ll play the detective game.” Gordon smiled. “Hmmmm. You’re a pretty, female mouse.”

“You’re guessing,” she chuckled.

“Let’s see... You’re right handed. You’re a natural blond. You have soft cream-colored fur. You’re five point two inches tall and a size M-5. I’m too much of a gentleman to guess your age or weight.”

“Thank you,” she smiled.

“You’re a top-notch pilot, you’re highly skilled in mechanical and electrical engineering and you’re quite a good detective. You have good leadership skills even though you often defer to someone else, like Chip, when a critical decision has to be made.

“You prefer vegetables and grains over a lot of meat. You like all kinds of cheese and you have a great fondness for semisweet chocolate. You have an I.Q. that’s off the chart but you prefer physical activity to more intellectual pursuits.”

“Just how do you mean ‘physical activity?’” she asked suspiciously.

“Working with your hands, building things. And getting mixed up with a couple of scruffy secret operators.”

“I’ll just bet that’s all you had in mind,” she said skeptically.

“You don’t wear make-up,” Gordon went on. “You don’t go for fancy hairdos. You have almost no jewelry of any sort. You’ll carry a toolbox but not a purse. You have two middle names you never tell anyone you have; your dresser drawers have as many tools and machine parts as clothes; and, despite your reputation, your closet is pretty typical of a young lady mouse except for eight identical lavender jumpsuits. And four in the laundry hamper.”

Gadget’s eyes became progressively wider with astonishment at this catalog of her life. It was the comment about the hamper that gave it away.

“Wait a minute! You two searched my bedroom!”

Gordon plowed on, ignoring her outburst.

“You idolize your father and still feel you don’t measure up to his memory. You like to have Monterey Jack close because he reminds you of your Dad and you feel safe with him. You’re close to Zipper, too, and you’d be closer if you could understand him better. Chip and Dale are colleagues, but you’re not sure where you stand with either of them as far as being ‘more than friends,’ and you’re afraid to find out.”

“You’re getting awfully personal,” Gadget warned.

“You don’t have any serious or chronic illnesses since you don’t have any prescription medicines.” He looked down into his cocoa mug, avoiding her eyes. “And you’re not romantically involved with anyone, or else you take very big risks.”

“You couldn’t possibly know that,” she said nervously.

“I searched your bathroom. No little Pill.”

“Maybe I hide them,” she said, trying to preserve some feminine mystique.

“No female hides the Pill in her own bathroom. She leaves them in plain sight so she doesn’t forget to take them. And they wouldn’t be in your purse since you don’t carry one.”

She looked uneasily into her own cocoa. “Gordon, you’re making me feel like I’m wearing see-through.”

“I’m sorry,” he said sincerely. “I guess that was going too far. But you can see why we treasure privacy. With our skills and resources, it’s too easy to learn more about someone than we have any business knowing. True, we were snooping in your bedroom that first night. But that was official business. We were trying to find out what your involvement with Stan Kellerman was, and that was only to safeguard your life. We would not do it again. Okay?”

“I know you wouldn’t,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Would give Gary a yell? It’s his turn to cook and he’s not squirming out of it.”

“Sure,” Gadget said. “Where was he going?”

“He was going to the communication room,” Gordon advised. “But if he’s ducking kitchen duty, he might have made himself invisible again. Look around, you’ll find him.”

* * *

Secrets, Shouting and Significance.
Or,
If You Fail Flight School, They Make You A Diplomat.

Gadget paused in the middle of the Nest Egg’s spacious living room and and considered how to track down her quarry. Just to assure herself, she made a quick circuit of the room. Then she checked the communications room. There was no sign he’d even been there. The exercise room was also empty. She came in turn to the bedrooms and noticed a light on in Gary’s room. She tapped on the open door.

“Gary? Are you in here?” she called. There was no answer, and she walked in, just to be sure that he wasn’t hiding.

She had never had a reason to visit Gary’s room, and she looked around with interest. The room had the solid, masculine feel of an English gentlemen’s club, with the walls painted a dark blue and the room set with oak furnishings. While she admired the decor, her eyebrows slowly raised as she realized his bed was more than wide enough for two.

The bathroom door was ajar and the light was out, so she surmised Gary wasn’t there. But there was a light on in the walk-in closet at the back of the bedroom, and she crossed the room and peeked inside. He wasn’t in view there, either, but she saw that the closet wasn’t illuminated by its regular light. There was a strong glow from an opening in the back. She flipped on the light and saw that the rear of the closet was another door, one camouflaged to be invisible when closed.

Gadget tiptoed as she entered the closet. Although she was still feeling “detectivey” after her game with Gordon, she firmly resolved not to snoop among Gary’s shirts, pants, jackets, flight clothing, business suits, combat BDU’s, and - very odd - two identical tuxedos. She gave the concealed door a push and stepped through into the next room.

Gadget found herself in a large, brightly lit indoor firing range. The walls and ceiling were clad in acoustic tile and there was a sharply angled backstop at the far end. Foam rubber wrestling mats were rolled up along one wall, and she guessed that the Scruffies did their martial arts training there. The wall next to the door was covered with racks of weapons. Some - crude and vicious in appearance - had paper tags attached, and she concluded these were evidence and exemplars from past cases. The rest were finely crafted, well maintained and efficiently lethal. The tools of their trade. There was a work bench nearby with a number of weapons laid out, along with various tools. She caught the distinctive scent of solvent and oil. Gary had been here, but where was he now?

Gadget turned to continue her search and stopped dead. The door had closed behind her. In fact, it had not merely closed. It was gone.

“Oh, shoot,” Gadget said. “more secret stuff.” She examined the wall and soon discovered a faint seam, but it was such a close fit she couldn’t even fit her fingernail in the crack. She began to check around the edge of the door for a trip or release. Nothing would pull, push or twist to open it. Frustrated, she tried to work on the door edge again.

Suddenly, the door began to swing toward her, and she stepped back quickly. Gary pushed the door open and looked around the firing range in phony wonderment.

“Ahhh, so this is the ‘better mousetrap’ I’ve heard so much about. It doesn’t even need cheese!” Gary regarded Gadget with a bemused smile. “Just a mouse with an overabundance of curiosity.”

“Gar-eee!” Gadget complained. “Don’t make fun of me! Besides, I wasn’t trapped. I’d have figured out how to open it.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Gary advised. “You’re dealing with architecture, not a mechanism. It’s a completely different set of skills. There’s a kick panel that opens the door next to the bottom hinge, there, and another door over there that leads to Gordon’s room.”

“I was looking for you,” she said. “Gordon said it’s your turn to fix dinner.”

“I know. I wanted to finish up here first. I had to get some more solvent from the hanger.”

Gary sat down at the work bench. There were a number of weapons before him. A dozen knives of different styles, three partly disassembled Crosman guns, and other devices Gadget wasn’t certain about.

“Did you have some trouble since I saw you last?” she asked.

“Oh, we saw a little action,” Gary said as he ran a brush through the bore of a Crosman gun.

“There was shooting, wasn’t there?”

“Yeah,” Gary admitted. “We didn’t go looking for a fight. Not this time, anyway. Have you ever used weapons like these?”

“I’m not a helpless waif, Gary,” she said testily.

“I wasn’t implying you...” Gary stopped as Gadget scooped up several throwing knives. With a blur of motion she snapped them in rapid succession into the target downrange. Gary’s eyes widened as the knives formed a perfect “H” for Hackwrench.

“That’s good,” he acknowledged. “I can hit center pretty well, but I can’t write my name with ‘em.”

“I was taught by a circus knife thrower,” Gadget explained. “I learned a lot of unusual things when I traveled with my Dad.”

She gazed at the Crosman pistols laid out on the table. “I’ve never had a good look at these. They seem very well made.”

“You should know how to handle weapons if you’re going to be around them,” Gary said, “even if you never intend to use one. It’s safer for you and everyone around you.”

Gary hefted the pistol he had assembled and handed it to Gadget. The weapon was surprisingly light despite being quite bulky. The slender pistol grip supported a set of four individual barrels nested in a cloverleaf pattern, each muzzle sufficiently wide that Gadget could have stuck her thumb in it. On top were simple metal gunsights, capable of fine adjustment, not unlike the ones she installed on her own sucker dart launchers. Gary began to point out the details of the weapon.

“Your controls are: an ambidextrous safety on the grip, the magazine release below the trigger guard, and the trigger. That’s it. Simple as possible. The trigger pull isn’t very light, so don’t be afraid to give it a good mash if you need a quick shot.”

He picked up a magazine, a featureless black cylinder about the length of his palm. “The darts and the propellent cartridge are all in the magazine, for fast reloads. It snaps in behind the barrels with a quarter turn. When you might need to shoot, slap the button on the back of the cylinder to puncture the gas cartridge.” He handed the cylinder to Gadget. “These are practice darts. Give it a try.”

Gadget took the magazine and loaded the pistol. She rapped the charge button and heard the brief hiss of the propellant filling the voids. She turned her attention to a simple bullseye target downrange and raised the pistol, assuming a two-handed Weaver stance. She settled the sights on the target and squeezed...

THA-POK! went the pistol, the recoil bouncing the muzzle up, Gadget’s hands pulling the gun instantly back to firing position. The dart smacked the target low and right of the center.

“You anticipated the shot,” Gary observed.

“I’m used to a lighter trigger pull,” Gadget explained. She laid the sights on and triggered three fast shots that formed a neat three-leaf clover in the center of the bulls-eye.

“I suspected you were a good shot,” Gary said, clearly impressed.

Gadget snapped the safety on and carefully returned the pistol to the bench. “What about the darts?”

There were a number of teardrop shaped darts on the bench, some with guidance fins attached to their slender back ends, some without. Gary picked up a dart with fins and held it gingerly.

“The darts have an injector piston inside that’s charged when you puncture the gas cartridge.” He pressed the back of the dart down on a test cradle. Gadget heard a soft “psst” as the dart’s piston charged up.

Gadget looked at the rounded, blunt nose of the dart with puzzlement. “How does the needle attach?” she asked.

“It’s carried inside,” Gary said. “It’s more compact, it’s safer and the needle is pretty delicate.” He held the dart in one hand and picked up a thin cardboard target with the other. “The needle deploys on impact. Like so...”

He tapped the nose of the dart against the cardboard. In an instant, the needle shot through the target and a fine spray of liquid mist burst from the tip, causing Gadget to jump slightly in surprise.

Gary held the dart where Gadget could see it’s tip. “The needle has about a dozen fine holes in the sides. The dart injects a massive dose of nerve paralyzer into the tissue in a twentieth of a second. The mixture has metabolic accelerants that make it take effect in less than one second. Even a hit in the extremities paralyzes the voluntary nervous system almost instantly.”

“And then they die,” Gadget said softly.

“Yes,” he replied honestly. “It paralyzes the involuntary nervous system as well. Our darts aren’t immediately lethal, but to deliver a sufficient dose of nerve paralyzer to stop someone instantly, it kills within seconds. We just have to accept that fact.”

“Does whether someone lives or dies always come down to the last instant?” she asked.

“All too often, it does,” Gary said. “Once I was on a mission, trying to catch one of the worst killers ever, and I hesitated. I almost didn’t shoot in time and she...” He suddenly grimaced in pain and clapped a hand to his forehead. Gadget quickly put her arm over his shoulders to steady him.

“You’re having one of those migraines again,” she stated.

“It’s not a migraine,” Gary insisted. “It’s over in just a second. I’m fine.”

“Won’t you see the vet about it? For me?” she coaxed.

Gary looked her in the eye and smiled. “The doctors have never found a thing. I’m okay, really. I’ve just got a screw loose.”

Gadget sighed and abandoned her effort to cajole him. She again looked over the weapons spread out on the table.

“Gary, how do you do it?”

He smirked almost involuntarily. “You mean that fun, frollicky, done-in-the-dark ‘It’?”

“NO!” Gadget protested. “For Heaven’s sake, is that where your mind always runs off to!?”

“Of course not,” he said with a smile. “But your reaction is so delicious I can’t resist it. Now, which ‘it’ do you mean?”

“How do you do any of this?”Gadget asked. “How do you shoot to kill?”

“Ahh.” Gary said, regretting his flippancy. “That is a very big ‘it’”

Gary sat silent for a few moments. Gadget noticed he wore the same concerned expression Gordon had as he choose how to enlighten her without violating confidences. She realized that, in important ways, these two were more alike than different.

“It’s training and reaction to the threat,” Gary said. “As well as mental preparation. You can’t stop and intellectualize about it, or you’ll be dead yourself. Strictly speaking, you don’t shoot to kill. You shoot to stay alive.”

“You might just avoid the danger,” Gadget suggested.

“We could. The folks we’re trying to help often don’t have that option. So there’s still another consideration. Before you ever decide to take up a deadly weapon, you have to be firmly resolved in your own mind that some lives are more valuable than others.”

“How can you make a judgment like that?”

“When someone tries to harm or kill others without cause, when they do it for revenge or profit or pleasure, they have to be stopped. Anyone willing to kill innocents has to be stopped, even if he loses his life in the process. If you can’t accept that, you shouldn’t carry a deadly weapon.”

“I think that kind of reasoning might make it hard to tell the good guys from the bad guys.”

“Okay, let’s consider this from another angle. Remember up at Pyramid Lake when you took off after Lahwhinie? One of her thugs was going to shoot you in the back as you headed for the stairs. Gordon stepped out of cover and dropped that guy. I thought he was gonna get himself killed, but he did it. Now, I want to know if you think what he did was right or wrong?”

“You two didn’t tell me that happened!” Gadget cried.

“It wasn’t important.”

“It’s pretty important to me! He saved my life!”

“But should he have saved your life by taking a life?”

“I can’t answer that, Gary,” she said, annoyed at being placed on the hot seat. “I’m too close to the question. It’s too personal.”

“It’s always personal” Gary pointed out. “The choice came down to killing that thug or watching you die. Gordon will live with that choice for the rest of his life. Was the choice wrong?”

“That’s not fair, Gary,” Gadget said sternly.

“Death is very even-handed, Gadget,” he snapped back. “Life isn’t fair.”

He clicked the Crosman pistol back together. Gadget looked away, feeling ashamed at her flash of anger.

“I suppose if it came to shooting or not shooting, Gordon wouldn’t want to live with not shooting,” she said apologeticly.

Gary placed his hand over hers. “Gordon and I made up our minds a long time ago that lives like yours are worth fighting for. Even killing for. And even if that’s a good enough answer, I suspect you’re not asking the right question.”

“What should I be asking?” Gadget asked.

“How do you live with it afterwards.”

“I suppose that is what I’m wondering. You and Gordon seem so... normal. Have you killed a lot of bad guys?”

“Gadget,” he said coldly, resenting the implication, “I don’t carve notches on my gun butt. I don’t do this to rack up a score.”

“Golly, Gary, that’s not what I meant!” she said quickly. “I mean, it’s been... more than one?”

“Yes.” Gary relaxed, realizing that Gadget had merely misspoken. “More than one.”

“Then it doesn’t make you hesitate a second time? How do you manage to do that and not become callous? Or even heartless?”

“Being psychologically and emotionally prepared. Then, too, there’s the simple knowledge that you’re doing only what must be done if innocent lives, or your own, are not to be lost. But there’s more to it than that. If you’re going to live with it, you have to mourn.”

“You mourn someone who was just trying to kill you?” Gadget said in astonishment.

“In a sense. When you kill someone, you may find a little piece of yourself dies, too. You mourn that as well.”

“It sounds like, in time, you’ll be used up.”

“That can happen,” Gary admitted. “That’s why you take the time to mourn, even grieve. That’s how you heal.”

“I can’t help wondering if there isn’t another way,” Gadget said. “Something that doesn’t have to kill.”

“If we could find something effective, I’d use it,” Gary assured. “If someone could hand me a Star Trek phaser set for stun, I’d never use anything else. We’ve tried electric stun guns, beanbag guns, net launchers and super-duper pepper spray. Each has it’s own unpredictability. You’re right about who lives or dies being decided at the last instant, and we simply can’t gamble other’s lives on a weapon failure.”

“Hasn’t anyone come up with a tranquilizer or a knockout dart? Something really fast that’s nonlethal?”

“It’s been tried, but there are too many variables,” Gary explained. “Time is the critical element. The ‘onset of effects’ problem, it’s called. A determined opponent could kill several innocents in the seconds it takes for an anesthetic dart to take effect. Also, there’s the problem of the right dose, even considering only body mass. A dose that would knock you cold might not affect me at all. Then again, a shot that would only make me groggy might kill you. Then we’re back where we started from, only worse. You could kill someone you only wanted to knock out, by accident. And that would be hard to live with.”

“It’s funny,” Gadget said. “I feel like I’ve had this conversation with you before. Deja vu. It’s a lot to think about.”

“There’s no rush. Gordon and I will cover you, whatever happens. Just don’t get too far ahead of us, okay?”

Gary placed the weapons back in their places on the rack and lead the way to the door.

“What would you like for dinner?” he asked.

* * *

Two hours later, Gary’s nine vegetable casserole was long gone and tensions were running high in the Nest Egg. Gordon was monitoring the radios, listening to one of the search teams that had spotted something suspicious. Gordon turned up the volume so Gary and Gadget in the front room could hear. The sound of anxious voices trying to control their excitement only ratcheted up the suspense. Then, a voice cut through the anxiety with a disappointed “all clear” signal. It had been a false alarm.

The sudden quiet was no relief to Gadget. She was bored, fidgety and nervous, actually hoping the alarm would sound. She found it was even difficult to concentrate on her book, “Practical Machine Shop Techniques.” It was the sort of reading that usually interested her, but she had wasted a good half-hour simply making corrections in the margins. As she returned the book to the bookcase, she caught sight of her reflection in the glass of the china cabinet, looked at her profile a moment and frowned.

“Gee, does my rear end look big?” she asked, not expecting any answer.

Ordinarily this question, especially from Gadget, would have sounded a screaming warning even to a bachelor like Gary. But he was distracted by the radio reports coming in, and he was trying to track several teams on the map in his hand. His answer was worse than truthful. It was clinical.

“You’re a mouse, Gadget,“ Gary said, not looking up. “You’re supposed to carry weight in your hindquarters.”

She frowned more fiercely. “I’m supposed to have a big rear?”

“Mice evolved as terrestrial creatures,” Gary explained, still preoccupied. “You’re supposed to be able to move fast and maneuver well on the ground. Muscular hindquarters help you do that.”

“Muscular?” Gadget said in surprise. She turned on him, her hands on her hips. “My heinie looks muscular?”

“Gadget,” Gary replied with evident irritation, “you’re perfectly normal. For a mouse.”

“So, I look fat in the rear,” she said crossly. “Not like someone with a pretty squirrel tush.”

“Squirrels are arboreal,” Gary answered, with his patience straining and his nose still in the map. “They need different balance for moving through the treetops. More even fore-and-aft.”

“I see,” Gadget said icily. “And I don’t have that nice trim squirrel butt like G.G.”

“What’s G.G. got to do with anything?” Gary snapped as he threw down the map and rose from his chair to confront her.

“I don’t like being compared to the other womqn!” Gadget responded angrily.

Gary moved in to point-blank range. “In the case of Gloria and myself, Miss Hackwrench, YOU would be the ‘other woman!’ But there’s a certain physical act we haven’t performed which means you don’t qualify!”

“Ohhhhh!” she shrilled in outrage. “Ohh, you...! How dare you even insinuate that I would ever...!”

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU TWO!” Gordon roared as he stormed in from the communications room. “We are on alert! We could be in the air on this mission in two minutes! This is no time to be standing around shouting at each other!” he shouted, flying in the face of his own logic.

“Now if you want,” Gordon stated loudly, “I’ll call the Panic Center and tell them we have to be taken off alert! And then you two can have all the time you like to kick the hypoallergenic stuffing out of each other!”

Gary and Gadget sharply turned away from each other. Their unreasoning anger quickly gave way to embarrassment at their conduct. Gordon sized them up and gave them his ultimatum.

“Shall I make the call? Or will you apologize to each other?”

The disgrace of having to be replaced, and because of a personal spat, was not something either of them cared to bear. Gadget finally glanced at Gary. He looked more ashamed than she felt, and she resolved that he would not be the first to apologize.

“Gary, I blew my top over nothing,” Gadget said quickly. “I had no call to be upset about an honest answer and I certainly didn’t have any cause to bring up G.G. I’m sorry.” She turned away again, her frustration evident. “It’s this waiting! It’s driving me crazy! I thought you two would get in the thick of things the moment we had a hint of something going on. I just can’t stand sitting around waiting!”

“Tonight we’re just the backup to the rodents that are doing the searches,” Gary said gently. “So we can’t move until we’re called in, even if we know where the action is. And that’s the point. I should be used to it, and for some reason I’m wound up like a cheap alarm clock. I shouldn’t be arguing with you, and I know better. I’m very sorry.”

Gordon looked them both over, each awkwardly trying to think what to say next.

“Well, are you two going to kiss and make up, or what?” Gordon said dryly.

They both looked away, suddenly quite shy. Then Gadget smiled at Gary and turned her muzzle aside, offering her cheek. Gary bent down and kissed her with warmth that caught her off guard. When she returned his kiss, she gave only a quick peck, suddenly not trusting herself to give a firmer one.

“Gadget,” Gary said, “Why don’t you go out to the hanger, get in the spare parts and invent something. Anything. Just get your mind off the waiting. We’ll be off alert in a few hours, and things will settle down. If something happens, you’ll hear the alarm out there.”

“Not a bad idea,” Gadget agreed. “At least I’ll stay out of trouble.”

* * *

Perils, Progress And Passions.
Or,
Oscillation Overthrusters And Other Delights.

On her way to the hanger, Gadget was struck by an inspiration, an unorthodox method to medicinally render a rodent unconscious. She turned away from the hanger repair shop and instead spent the hours working away in the Nest Egg’s well stocked emergency medical clinic. She sat at the back of the clinic at the lab table and busied herself with an array of finely made rodent sized laboratory glassware and a variety of medicine bottles she had neatly arranged across the counter.

Gordon’s voice came over the P. A. system in a smooth announcers croon. “Good evening, fine people. We at the Hole In The Desert Inn wish to thank you for choosing us for all your camouflage, concealment and general hiding needs. We’re pleased to announce that we are now off alert status and will continue with our program of recorded dance music.”

Gadget smiled as the speaker began to play “Stardust.”

“He’s really gone old hat,” she said softly.

She consulted a copy of the Veterinarian’s Desk Reference and added a measured amount of fluid to the beaker on the table. She smiled to think how much this looked like Foxglove working up a magic potion.

It might be magic, at that, she thought. A formula that would instantly send a villain safely sleepy-bye would be as useful to the Rescue Rangers as to the Two Scruffy Guys.

Gadget had slipped back into the armory and plucked several unloaded Crosman darts with this experiment in mind. She took up a pipet and began to carefully drip her potion into the line of darts until each was a quarter full. She charged the darts with CO2 from a small cylinder, jotted the time and the exact amount of liquid in her notebook, then set the darts aside.

Humming softly, she went to the sink and washed up. She was quite satisfied with her work considering it was a first attempt. She intended to make adjustments to the formula depending on how it performed in tests. She went back to the table, took a glance at her notes again, and plopped into the chair.

“YEEEOOOUCH!” she shrieked as she popped right up from the chair again. She looked back to see, to her shock, the gleaming needle of one of the Crosman darts protruding from the back of the seat cushion. She didn’t have a chance to consider anything else before the room spun wildly around her. She grabbed the edge of the lab table and leaned heavily on it, barely staying on her feet.

“Golly! I think I’ve got that ‘onset of effects’ problem licked!” she said. She held on tight as the dizziness passed. She began to feel very warm. Very comfortable. Very much more liquid than solid. And she discovered she liked the feeling.

“I should get some help heeheeheehee!” She found the thought most amusing. “I better find... Gary. Yeah, I’ll find that big, ol’ squirrely guy. Teeheeheehee!”

For some reason, the thought of going to find Gary made her feel warm and tingly in ways she ordinarily wouldn’t admit to. She carefully got her feet under her and nearly lost her balance. She began to giggle again as she nearly fell on her tush.

With a little deliberate concentration, Gadget found she could walk perfectly well - if she aimed herself the way she would to walk a tightrope. The careful placement of her feet and shift in her weight also gave her step an alluring sway. It seemed to her that she almost floated along, her eyes sleepily half open, her breathing deep and relaxed. She pointed herself carefully towards the door and drifted toward the living quarters in a velvety, languid haze.

Gary was in the front room of the Nest Egg when he saw Gadget enter. He instantly noticed the difference. The gentle roll of her hips; the slow, sinuous sweep of her tail; the shy, downcast gaze; the coquettish smile that crossed her lips. He barely had time to wonder at the change before she reached him and wrapped her arms around him.

“Hi,” Gary said as he slipped his arms around her in turn. “Glad we’re off alert?”

“You know what?” she said softly. “I like you. I really like you.”

“Gadget, I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier...”

“S’okay. I shouldn’t have... Shouldn’t... Should I?”

“Should you... what?”

“Maybe I should,” she said with a gentle smile. She pressed her body warmly against his and snugged her head under his muzzle.

“Oh,” was all Gary could manage to say. It occurred to him that perhaps their argument and apologies had broken down a barrier between them. It was more than he dared hope for, and yet...

“Gadget, have you, ummm, made up your mind about something?”

“I’ve been real busy,” Gadget said. “But I wanted you... I wanted you to... Teeheeheeheehee, you know!”

“I’m beginning to get the picture,” he admitted.

She glanced at him, looking somewhat perplexed. “Thought it’d be Chip,” she muttered. “Chip’s always the one who’s there when I need help... When I’m in trouble... But you’re here...”

Gary tensed. “Are you sure about this? Isn’t Chip your... The one you really want?”

“Something happened between us,” she said sadly. “Something changed. He’s become distant... It’s like he....” she seemed to choke on her words. “Like he feels sorry for me.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, surprising himself with how much he really meant it.

“You’re always good to me,” she crooned. “You talk to me about important things. You watch out for me. Why shouldn’t I want you when I’m... gettin’ dizzy.”

“Ummm, okay,” Gary glanced nervously at Gordon’s door. His partner had stepped away just a minute ago.

Gadget’s hand slipped into Gary’s shirt and her fingers dug into the pure white fur on his chest.

“You’re soooo soft,” she murmured. “Why are you so soft?”

“Just lucky, I guess.”

“Why are we still here? Mmmmm?”

“Maybe we should...” Gary took a breath and softly asked, “Would you like it if we went back to your room?”

“Sure,” she whispered. “Take me... to my room. But... I want something more.”

“Anything,” Gary said with a smile. “Anything at all. What would you like?”

“Huggles.”

“What?”

“Huggles!” she squealed gleefully. Her embrace suddenly became a bear hug, squashing the breath out of him. “Wheeeeee! Huggles, huggles, huggles, huggles!!”

“WHOOOF! Gadget be careful! You’ll... Aaaacckk!”

Gadget’s tail tangled around Gary’s ankles. Off balance, he toppled over onto the carpet with Gadget firmly attached. She landed on top of him, straddling him like a motorcycle, still giggling.

“HEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! That was fun!” Gadget shrilled. “Let’s do it some more!”

“What’s gotten into you?” Gary demanded. She sat up a bit, gave him a silly grin, and he finally got a good look at her eyes. The pupils were wildly different diameters. “What have you gotten into!? Gadget, you are totally crocked!”

“Would you nibble behind my ear?” she whispered, rubbing her ear suggestively against his muzzle. “It makes me feel like sparkles and I get all melty.”

“Gadget, get a hold of yourself!”

“Okay! Huggles then!” She began to bounce up and down on her toes, mashing Gary in the process. “Huggles, huggles, huggles huggles!!” she screeched again.

“Ooooofff! Auugggh! Gadget, take it easy! Slow down! I’m gonna...!”

“Hugga, hugga, hugga, hugga, hugga,” she panted.

Gary glimpsed movement from the corner of his eye. Gordon had just turned his back on the scene and was trying to tiptoe back into his room.

“Gordo!” Gary barked. “You come back here! Give me a hand!”

Gordon turned again, realizing he wasn’t interrupting what he thought he was interrupting. He grinned and leaned lazily against the door frame.

“I don’t know, partner. The last time you asked for help with a beautiful woman, it didn’t turn out so well.”

“Gord! It’s not what it looks like!”

“I know,” he answered impishly. “You’re both waaayy overdressed.”

“Dang it, there’s something wrong with her! Get her off me!”

With a gentle chuckle, Gordon stepped over and pried the over exuberant mouse away from his partner.

“NO!” she cried, scrabbling to maintain her grip on Gary. “I want the soft one!”

“I always knew you were the soft one... Ooooffff!” As Gordon pulled her loose, Gadget managed the impossible, twisting about in his hands and wrapping her arms and legs tightly around his torso, snugging to him like a furry leotard. “Man! She’s strong!”

“Tell me about it,” Gary groaned, holding his ribs.

“Did she get into the liquor cabinet?”

“I didn’t smell anything. She’s been in the hanger for hours.”

“Would you nibble behind my ears?” Gadget purred, pushing her head against Gordon’s face. “They’re soooo sensitive.”

“Not right now,” Gordon said as he turned her face towards him “Now, Gadget. Gadget? Look at me. Were you working with some solvents out there? Or were you doing something with the fuel systems?”

“Huh-uh. I just wanna be cozy.”

“C’mon, Gadget,” Gordon insisted. “What were you working on?”

“Awwwwwwww,” she moaned, annoyed. “Stickers.”

“Stickers?” Gordon echoed. Gary only shrugged. “We don’t have any adhesives that would do this. Stickers?”

Gordon tried to think from the perspective of someone that was thoroughly intoxicated. His personal experience in such matters allowed him to quickly make the connection.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” he yelled, pulling the clinging mouse away like soggy coveralls. “Gary, take her!”

“I just got rid of her!”

“Hold on to her! She could be in real trouble!”

Gordon passed Gadget to Gary’s lap and ran at top speed to the hanger. Gary realized what Gordon’s urgency might mean.

“Gadget, what did you do to yourself?”

“Just wanna hug,” she whimpered, beginning to go noticeably limp. “Just hold me.”

“I’ll hold you,” he said gently, pulling her closer to him. “Whatever happens. I’ll hold you as long as I can.”

Gary carefully pressed a finger against her neck, seeking a pulse. He watched her breathing in silent dread that he would see it suddenly stop. He only began to relax when he heard Gordon walking back from the hanger. If Gadget’s situation were serious, he’d still be running. Gordon knelt down beside them and double checked her pulse and breathing.

“I think we’re okay,” Gordon began. “She was working in the emergency clinic, not the hanger. It’s a good thing she keeps up her lab notes. It looks like she was trying to come up with a fast acting anesthetic formula for Crosman darts. She’s got a bunch of them out there.”

“She was messing around with Crosman darts!?” Gary said heatedly. “What the heck was she thinking!?”

“Probably that it’d be nice if we didn’t have to kill anyone. If I read my pharmaceuticals correctly, she has a pretty potent formula brewing. She’d probably still be there, out cold, if those darts weren’t only quarter-charged. ”

“You mean she tried out some drug cocktail on herself?” Gary snapped, outraged.

“I don’t think she did on purpose.” Gordon produced the discharged Crosman dart. “I found this in the seat cushion. None of the darts have fins attached, and you know how they’ll roll away without ‘em. It was probably an accident.”

“And maybe it wasn’t,” Gary growled. “Dang! This may all be my fault! We were talking about nonlethal darts earlier. I probably put the idea in her head.”

Gary rested his forehead in his hand, visibly shaken. Gordon gently lifted Gadget’s face and assessed her condition.

“She’s out,” Gordon said. “We should put her to bed.”

“Would you take her, Gordo? I’m...”

“You’re more fried than she is. Sure, I’ll tuck her in.” Gordon scooped up the snoozing rodent and toted her to her room. “Big day awwww done, Gadget. Time for beddy-bye.”

Gary sat unmoving on the floor, the what-ifs roiling his brain. What if her breathing had stopped? What if we had to fly her out? Which veterinary center? What if we’d tried to treat her here and got it all wrong? There were no answers, of course. But the questions made his guts burn.

He got up and made straight for the liquor cabinet, poured a tumbler of cognac and rapidly downed half of it. He forced the other what-ifs to cease and entertained only one: What if it happens again?

Gordon finally returned from Gadget’s bedroom and joined Gary, pouring himself a much smaller glass of the same liquor.

“What took so long?” Gary queried. “Did she wake up?”

“No. I undressed her to her underwear. You know how clammy it is waking up in your street clothes.”

“Yeah,” Gary agreed. “Good idea.”

“So,” Gordon smirked, “did I make a mess of your romantic evening?”

“My... Me!?” Gary spluttered. “It was her idea! She came in here acting hotter than Kitten Kaboodle! I thought she was serious! I almost took her back to her bedroom and... and...” He gestured helplessly, words inadequate. Gordon nodded that he understood.

“I hadn’t heard that your bedroom technique was that horrible,” Gordon jested. “We never had a female here wake up screaming.”

“Screaming?” Gary howled. “She was plastered! She’d probably wake up crying! Then where would we be?” Gary took another swig, the possibility not appealing. “How would I ever make that right with her?”

“Well, you caught on in time,” Gordon said with a smile. “From what Gadget said about blacking out the one time she was drunk, I’ll bet she doesn’t remember a bit of this. Except for burning out the clutch on your libido, there’s no harm done.”

“Dammit, Gord, she might have died!” Gary snarled. “No! She doesn’t walk away from this with a big smile on her face. If she’s not going to remember what happened, and she thinks she’s skated away nice and clean, she’s liable to try it again. And next time we may not get so lucky. I don’t want her to ever take on a dangerous project without telling us what she’s doing.”

“Okay. I see where this is going,” Gordon said. “Do you think we have to take extreme measures?”

“Remember what Sol Gorsky always says: ‘A lesson that scares you is a lesson that stays with you.’”

“Well, for once I agree with you,” Gordon smiled as he pinched his partner’s cheek. “But be gentle with her, you big, soft-furred brute.”

* * *

Lost Weekends, Mornings After and Hazy Days.
Or,
I Only Asked You To Do This Because You’re Perfect.

The next morning, Gordon prepared his part of the scheme by deliberately burning a bit of bacon in the breakfast skillet, filling the air of the kitchen with its distinct, sickly odor. His timing was simplified by the sound of Gadget’s toilet flushing for the third time in ten minutes. There was no doubt she was out of bed, if not entirely awake.

The unwitting star of the show finally appeared, dressed in a utilitarian blue denim shirt and jeans. The instant she entered the kitchen, the ghastly scent hit her. She clapped a hand over her mouth and convulsed with great sincerity, but she obviously had nothing left in her to hurl.

“Mornin’ Gadget!” Gordon said with excessive cheer. “Hey, you look a bit off this morning.”

“Gordon, I think I may have to see a veterinarian,” she lamented. “I woke up terribly sick to my stomach. I had the dry heaves and few minutes ago I was throwing up green stuff.”

“Hmmmm, green stuff?” Gordon said thoughtfully. “Very dark, very thick, very small amount?”

“Yes!” she said fearfully. “Oh, golly, is it bad?”

“No. That’s bile. It means you’re sicker than a dog with a belly full of bananas. It almost sounds like you’re hung over. It wasn’t Gary’s cooking that did it, I hope?”

“Ummm,” Gadget said evasively, “I... made myself an evening snack. I guess it really didn’t go down well.”

“Go down well,” Gordon muttered, smiling. “Interesting choice of words.”

That drew a surprised, silent stare from Gadget. Her memory of the previous night was, indeed, most unclear. But the fragments that were surfacing to her consciousness were very disturbing.

“Gordon,” Gadget asked cautiously, “Did I do or say anything unusual or out of the ordinary last night?”

“No, not really,” Gordon said with a sidewards glance and his smile becoming a grin. “Nothing females haven’t done all over the world for millions of years.”

“I was wondering,” she said nervously. “I always wear my nightgown to bed. Do you have any idea why I woke up in my underwear?”

“Becaaaaause, that’s all I could find when I caught up with you.”

It took a long five seconds for Gadget to grasp the full meaning of Gordon’s revelation.

“I was running around naked!?” Gadget cried incredulously.

“I was convinced you were dancing,” Gordon said merrily, “but it was hard to tell outside in the dark.”

“I WAS RUNNING AROUND OUTSIDE NAKED!!!?”

“You seemed so happy, I hardly had the heart to chase you down and stop you. Don’t you remember?”

“I’m not sure!” Gadget said franticly. “Everything’s sorta mixed up! I remember trying to find Gary and...” She stopped as the memory of silky white fur between her fingers came back to her. She suddenly had the vivid image of Gary’s face very, very close to hers.

“Oh, you found him,” Gordon said with delight. “And after you got done with him, you just took off out the hanger roof hatch. I think you surprised him, too.”

“Do you have any idea what happened?” Gadget asked urgently.

“I have an idea, but I shouldn’t intrude on your intimacy. That’s not right.”

“Intimacy! Wha.. What did...”

“You have to understand,” Gordon said, “I kinda walked in on you by accident. I wasn’t expecting to find you two in the middle of the living room floor, and I certainly wasn’t going to hang around and watch, even if you were too busy to notice me.”

“Gordo, please! Don’t you have any idea what was going on?!”

“Whatever it was, it must have been your idea. You were on top.”

“On top of what?”

“On top of Gary.”

“Oh, good golly! What were we doing?”

“I’m not certain, mind you,” Gordon said with oozing lubricity. “But it looked like you two were going for a midnight swim in the gene pool.”

“OMIGOSH!!” Gadget squealed. She squinched her eyes shut and grasped her head with both hands as if it were in danger of bursting. “No! I don’t believe it! I can’t believe it! I would never in a million years...”

Gordon wasn’t about to let her talk herself out of anything. While she was distracted he swept her into his arms, too fast for her to escape. He swiftly brushed her hair back and gently dragged his incisors along the base of her ear. The effect was instant and electric. She shrieked and pushed away from him with an expression that mixed equal parts of surprise, fear and ecstatic delight.

“GORDON!! Don’t DO that!” she screeched as she pulled her ears protectively tight against her head. Then the delight in her eyes melted into near horror.

“How did you know about that?” she whispered.

“You, ummm, invited me to nibble your ear last night. I didn’t get a chance to, and I wondered what it would do.”

“Oh, Gordon, I didn’t!” she groaned. “My ears are like a live wire. The feeling is so intense. I never let anyone touch my ears.”

“I suspect Gary did somewhat more than touch.”

Gadget neared complete shock. If she’d let Gary fiddle with her ears, she might have...

“You were with Gary most of the evening,” Gordon said. “You should talk to him. It’s not right for me to blab about it. A gentleman simply doesn’t discuss such things.”

Gadget’s arms slipped around herself, as if she were suddenly chilled.

“Where’s Gary now?” she asked softly.

“He was going to do some periodic maintenance on the Vertijet. He should still be there.”

Watching Gadget walk slowly toward the hanger, Gordon felt a strong pang of guilt. He steeled himself and didn’t call her back to admit the trick. It was clear to him now that his partner was right, and if he and Gary were going to get through to Gadget how perilous her situation had been, she had to understand how serious the consequences could be.

Gary had chosen the most neutral and non-threatening locale he could for the encounter, and was making an entirely unnecessary adjustment to the Vertijet’s landing gear. Gadget entered the hanger quietly and with an expression of deep concern. Gary spotted her before she could speak.

“Hi, honey!” Gary called delightedly. “How’re you this morning? I feel great!”

Honey? she thought. Oh my gosh!

“Gary, could I talk to you for a minute?” she called.

“Sure! Be right there, sweetheart.”

Gadget winced at his terms of endearment. What am I going to do? she thought. If I tell him I don’t remember anything, he’ll think I’m just awful! Maybe I can get him to talk about it without talking about it.

He swung down from the maintenance stand and gave her a swift kiss on the cheek. Any other time she would have let him have both barrels for that presumption. Now she was afraid he was right to expect a kiss.

“Gary,” Gadget began tentatively, “have I done anything, or allowed you to do anything, that has materially changed our relationship?”

That genuinely stopped him. “Gadget, I’m not sure I even understand that question.”

“I just want to be sure where I stand with you.”

“Exactly the same place as I said last night, honey,” he said sweetly. “When you were lying next to me.”

“Oh. My,” she said uneasily. “Nothing changed since then?”

“I wouldn’t have believed you felt that way,” he said with gentle emotion. “Or that you’d want to show it that way. You knocked my socks off.”

“Ah. Well, how nice. And... where did your socks end up?”

“You are cute,” he smiled. “I have to admit, no one ever made me feel the way you did last night. To be honest, I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Golly. I guess I have had it in me. I mean...! It was there all the time! Ummmm, or something.”

“It was really sweet the way you said how nice my fur felt to you.”

“I said that?!” she cried. “Oh, that’s right. I did say that.”

“I’m not surprised you don’t remember. You were sort of in the throes of passion.”

“Omigosh!” she squeaked, her voice becoming panicky. “Gary, I can’t... I didn’t mean... Whatever I...”

“Oh, you said and did a lot of wonderful things. But, you know, I really wasn’t expecting the way you reacted when you asked me to nibble your ears. I’ve never known a girl to be so sensitive and responsive.”

“Oh, good golly!” she wailed.

“Your secret’s safe with me, honey,” he whispered tenderly. “I would never tell anyone what it does to you.”

Gadget couldn’t even manage an answer. She merely whimpered softly in distress.

“And I want you to know that I’m truly sorry that things didn’t work out with Chip. But even if this was just a rebound, I’m very glad you landed in my arms!”

“Gary!” she cried. “Are you trying to deliberately torture me!? Just tell me if... I... I have to know...!”

“Sweetheart!” he exclaimed in surprise, “I have no idea what you’re driving at! If you want a straightforward answer, ask a straightforward question.”

She stopped and composed herself, her expression becoming deadly serious. She drew herself up, as if before a firing squad. All she lacked was the blindfold.

“I can’t remember what I did last night,” she confessed painfully. “Did I go to bed with you?”

There it was. He allowed the silence to hang for a few moments. He had promised he wouldn’t lie to her, but he didn’t have to let her off the hook easily.

“No. You didn’t,” he admitted.

“Oh, thank heavens!” she cried, sagging in relief.

“Gordon took you to bed.”

“WHAT!” she shrieked. “He didn’t say anything about that!” She bit her lip and glanced back toward the living quarters. Am I going to have to go through all this again? she thought.

“Okay, to be accurate, he put you to bed.” Gary chuckled, unable to keep a straight face any longer. “All right. No more games. I promise you, you didn’t commit any act of physical outrage last night. Maybe there was a moment when you wanted to, but you didn’t.”

Gadget eyed him suspiciously. “I didn’t run around the place naked?”

Gary stifled a laugh. Gordon had laid it on thicker than he’d expected.

“Not unless it was after I went to bed.”

“And you went to your own bed?”

“Yes. All cold and lonely. You don’t remember a bit of it, do you?”

“It’s all kind of confused,” she admitted. “I can’t be sure of what I did. I can’t remember if I danced naked in the moonlight, or told my deepest secrets, or even if I slept alone.”

Gary eyed her severely. “Do you know how close you came to not sleeping alone?” She slowly shook her head and he held up his thumb and finger with the smallest bit of air between them. “That close.”

“Oh, dear.” Her stomach incited a wave of nausea inevitable from any near-miss. “That’s the reason I stopped so suddenly last night when you two were chasing me. I didn’t want you to think I was teasing. Gary, I have never been a tease. I’ve watched girls do that and it’s terribly cruel. The guys they did it to were so hurt and confused and angry. I don’t think I ever saw a guy so angry over anything else. I promised myself I’d never, ever do such a thing. I hope that’s not what you think of me.”

“I didn’t think for a moment you were teasing,” he assured. “I thought you were completely serious. You were dropping some pretty strong hints and I was convinced you wanted to steer us toward your bedroom. But, looking back, I think you were just trying to ask for help getting there.”

“That’s probably the case. I remember thinking I needed help, so I should find you.” She stopped and puzzled a moment. “Wait a minute! If I was being all mushy and forward, and if you thought I was serious, why didn’t you...?”

“Becaaaaause,” he drawled, “before I could take us anywhere dark and private, you grabbed me in a bear hug and started screaming ‘Huggles!’”

“Oh, I didn’t!” she gasped, covering her mouth with both hands. “I used to do that when I was a little kid and my Dad came home from a long trip! I think I’m more embarrassed now than before!”

“Now then,” Gary said, his tone becoming serious again. “A much more important question is: Why can’t you remember what you did last night?”

Gadget looked away a moment. She realized it was no use trying to cover up her dangerous escapade.

“I was working on a knockout formula for Crosman darts in your medical clinic and I took the project to a bit too personal a level.”

“I want the absolute truth from you,” he said sternly, taking her by the shoulders. “Were you testing that formula on yourself?”

“Omigosh, no! I know I’m kind of reckless at times, but I’m not crazy! There are professional lab animals who make it their business to test new drugs under controlled conditions. The formula is somewhat acidic and I was checking the seals on some darts for deterioration from exposure and one of them must have rolled off the table and stuck in the chair and... I sat on it. It was an accident, honest!”

“I was hoping that was the case,” Gary said. “Crosman darts can be deadly even when they’re not loaded with a lethal dose. One bubble in the dart could cause a fatal embolism.”

“I made a mess of your whole evening,” Gadget said. “I promise I’ll never work on my inventions here again.”

“No, no, that’s not a problem,” Gary insisted. “You can work on anything you want to up here. We even have an explosives testing chamber if you need it. But tell us what you’re doing. We won’t get in your way. Last night we didn’t have a clue what had happened to you or how to help you.”

“But... you only thought I was a bit loopy, right?”

“For a minute, I thought you might be dying in my arms,” Gary said grimly. “I had visions of having to take you back to the Rangers in a little pine box, and trying to explain why.”

“Oh, golly!” Gadget found she couldn’t even look him in the eye. “No wonder you pulled such a persuasive ‘gotcha.’ It would have served me right to wake up wedged between the two of you!”

“Whoa! Let’s not take the gag too far,” Gary chuckled. “I don’t think the three of us would want to handle that kind of ‘gotcha.’”

“You seemed willing to ‘handle’ me,” she said demurely “I didn’t wake up fully dressed, after all. If you really wanted to convince me I’d done something terrible, you could have left me in the altogether.”

“Ahh, Gordon did that, and only so you could sleep comfortably. Besides, I wouldn’t have thought a ‘close encounter’ would have been all that terrible.”

“Gary, I won’t pretend to know how it is with guys, but a girl wants to have all her faculties when she has a ‘close encounter.’ It’s not a thing to be done lightly, and especially not under the influence. It’s very emotional and extremely personal and exceptionally important for us.”

“It would have been very personal and emotional for me, too,” Gary said as he took her hands in his. “And as important as anything would ever be.”

“Golly,” Gadget whispered, taken aback by his sincerity. “That’s not just sweet talk, is it?”

“No, it’s not,” he said simply. “Gadget, a drug or a drink doesn’t put anything inside you that wasn’t already there. But it might let something out that was hidden all along. Maybe I’m out of line saying this, but I think you’ve wanted to be touched and held. To be close to someone. And you’ve been afraid.”

“Maybe I have,” she said thoughtfully. “Gordon said I was afraid to be ‘more than friends.’” She straightened herself and looked him boldly in the eyes. “Maybe I just won’t be afraid anymore.”

She tossed her head, shaking her hair back, and gave him a smile that showed all frights were behind her, and all deceptions were forgiven.

“We never went on that date I promised you when you brought me the radio tubes,” Gadget said. “This mousenapping case came up, but I haven’t forgotten.”

“Oh!” Gary was caught off guard by the sudden change of course, but he caught up quickly. “Well, how about next Friday? Assuming we don’t have a mission pop up.”

“That’d be fine,” Gadget agreed. “Assuming we still aren’t out on the case.”

Gadget jumped clear off the floor and into Gary’s arms as a loud, undulating warble shattered the quiet of the hanger. The racket made her want to start running, but she had no idea where to run.

* * *

Hot Pursuit, Hot Tempers And Cold Anger.
Or,
Why Calling In A Blue Blaze Strike Team Was Considered Overkill Even Though A Bunch Of Aliens From The Eighth Dimension Were About To Start World War III.

“I thought we weren’t on alert!” Gadget yelled.

“It’s The Phone That Should Never Ring!” Gary informed her as he placed her back on her feet. “It’s an emergency call out! Don’t run! We don’t even know what we’re doing yet! Gordon’ll get the info.”

Gadget winced at the volume of the alarm, then they heard Gordon charging up the corridor from the living quarters.

“Chopper!” Gordon bellowed as he curved into the hanger. Gary and Gadget dashed to the twin rotor “flying eggbeater” just ahead of him. Already flight checked for the earlier alert, Gary had only to slap the rapid-start buttons. The instrument panel lit up, the communications suite came alive, and the engines fired solid-fuel start cartridges that had them up to speed in seconds. By the time Gadget had strapped herself into the center seat, the hanger doors were opening and Gary was lifting the chopper off the deck.

“What hit the fan and how far did it fly?” Gary shouted.

“It’s a scramble for all air assets,” Gordon said. “I just heard the first of the message. It’s on Interstate 5 heading north and it’s big. I didn’t catch what happened to the alert aircraft.”

“I see the download on the GPS,” Gary said. “They’re heading right for us. We’ll be over them in a few minutes.”

“Gadget,” Gordon asked, noticing her turn pale as the chopper swooped out of the hanger. “Are you going to be okay?”

“I’ll manage,” she said. “I’ve been worse.”

“No, you haven’t,” Gordon insisted. “If you’d ever been hung over before, you wouldn’t have been scared by feeling so sick!”

“She’s hung over?!” Gary yelled. “Why didn’t you say something?!”

“I just did!” Gordon answered. He switched his headset to the Panic Center long range frequency. “November Alpha 2-7, Tres Scruffi airborne. What’s the call?”

“Tres Scruffi,” the controller responded, “surveillance team Franklin has a high-confidence target coming out of Van Nuys. Pack Ten was the alert aircraft, but they blew an engine on start-up.”

“Patch us through to the surveillance team,” Gary said. They heard the crackle of the channel change.

“Team Franklin, this is Tres Scruffi, what’ve you got?”

“Your target vehicle is a red Peterbilt tanker truck. Chrome chassis-mount tank with a second trailer tank in tow. Last seen headed north on Interstate 405. We never saw the driver get in and they got the jump on us. There’s got to be eight thousand gallons aboard, so it won’t be going too fast once it hits the upgrade on the Grapevine.”

Gadget closed her eyes. She placed the probable speed of the truck against her memorized map of the San Fernando Valley. It took her only a moment.

“Set your course for the Highway 14 interchange, Gary,” she advised. “If they head for the desert through the San Fernando Pass, we can intercept them there.”

“Head ‘em off at the pass!” Gordon hollered. His companions glared at him. “Sorry. Always wanted to say that for real.”

“Franklin, Tres Scruffi,” Gary called. “What makes you think this is our target?”

“They were pumping the tanks full of some nasty chemical slurry. We couldn’t get in to grab a sample, but the one’s handling the job were wearing protective masks.”

“Sounds like an E.P.A. case,” Gordon said.

“The one’s handling it were rats.”

“There were animals helping human crooks?” Gadget asked, alarmed.

“That’s not all,” the unseen Franklin went on. “There was a gang of ticks with ‘em, standing guard.”

“Ticks?” Gadget said, her eyes growing wide. “What are ticks doing in the city?”

“They loaded the compartment in the cab’s passenger side step-up” Franklin advised. “They took a long time putting something on board. We couldn’t get an angle to see what it was, but we heard them refer to it as a bunch of samples.”

“Jackpot!” Gary said sharply. “That’s what Chucky’s been looking for! We’ve got ‘em now!”

“Tres Scruffi, November Alpha 2-7,” the Panic Center called again. “We have complications. The Valley police pursuit frequency just lit up. A truck answering your description just rear-ended a minivan in view of a Highway Patrol cruiser and is now evading pursuit. Several CHP units are after him and the Sheriff’s air unit is on the way.”

“He’s toast,” Gordon surmised as he turned a second receiver to the police frequency. “He’ll never get away over the Grapevine.”

“Tres Scruffi, further info,” the controller continued. “Your target is now heading south on I-5. Pursuit units are reporting speeds of a hundred plus.”

“It couldn’t be!” Gadget insisted. “Fully loaded, that truck would weigh forty tons! It’d need an engine like a locomotive!”

“For all we know, it has one,” Gary stated. “2-7, we’ll intercept.”

“The Highway Patrol will stop it,” Gadget said.

“The CHP will follow it, honey. They can’t force something that big to stop. He might lose ‘em or make them give up the pursuit, and I want that sample case!”

“You don’t even know what’s in it!” Gadget reminded him.

“I don’t care! Whatever it is could blow the lid off our investigation! I’m gonna get a look at it one way or another!”

“I love it when his squirrley acquisitiveness comes to the surface!” Gordon grinned.

“There they are,” Gadget said.

Below, several Highway Patrol cruisers with their rooftop lights flashing stayed in close formation behind the huge truck. The bright chrome of the truck’s twin tanks gleamed in spite of the cloudy skies. The classic red Peterbilt cab was as highly polished as a fire engine. The rig looked showroom new.

“News helicopters,” Gordon warned, indicating the colorfully painted approaching aircraft. “We’ll have a dozen of ‘em trying to cover this. It’s a slow news day.”

They’ll stay above the Sheriff’s chopper,” Gary reminded him. “We’re going to go in low. Take over, Gordo. Your ship.”

“My ship,” he answered. “What have you got in mind?”

“Boarding party,” Gary responded as he climbed out of the pilot’s seat. “Gadget, get in here and take the controls.”

“Gary,” Gadget began, “I should go down with you and help... Ahhhhh!” Gary unbuckled her safety belt, unceremoniously scooped her out of her seat and deposited her in the vacant pilot’s seat like a bag of groceries.

“Just fly, sweetheart,” Gary ordered as he pulled on his equipment harness. “I don’t want you getting mixed up in this when you’re not in top condition. Gordon and I will handle it.”

“Have you got it, Gadget?” Gordon asked.

“Just a second!” she snapped. “I gotta move the seat up! Doggone long-legged squirrels! Okay, I’ve got it. My ship.”

“Your ship,” Gordon responded. “Switch to the radio.” He slid back toward the rear of the compartment to join Gary. Gadget twisted the communications selector from intercom to radio.

Gordon grabbed the boom microphone of his headset in his fist in order to speak to Gary without Gadget hearing. Gary saw the movement and did the same.

{“Be nice,”} Gordon warned. {“We gave her a rough time this morning. You’re going to make her mad.”}

{“Gord, we have work to do and I’m faking it right now. And I am not going to make her mad.”}

“We’re closing in,” Gadget reported.

“Make a scout pass,” Gary said. “We’ll see what we’re dealing with.

“Roger-Wilbury,” Gadget said.

Gadget guided the helicopter over and alongside the speeding truck, giving them an overview of the vehicle. As she sailed down the side of the truck, she spotted movement under the forward tank. She swung the chopper for a closer look and saw a large rat climb out of concealment beneath the tank. He raised a pistol, took careful aim, and fired. The side window next to Gadget abruptly cracked in a circular spang, the Crosman dart tumbling away harmlessly.

“They’re shooting at us!” Gadget yelled.

“Get clear!” Gary commanded. “Get behind the truck!”

“Why don’t you shoot back at them!?” Gadget demanded.

“With what?” Gary shouted. “This is a transport helicopter! We don’t have any mounted weapons!”

“I have been flying around all this time in an unarmed aircraft!?” Gadget cried in astonishment. “The RangerPlane at least has sucker darts! Are you two out of your minds!?”

Seeing that his weapon was of no use, the rat clambered back under the tanker. As he did so, he presented the chopper with a gesture all too common on the Los Angeles freeway system.

“Did you see that?” Gadget cried at the affront. “He did the birdie finger at me!”

“Birdie finger?” Gordon questioned with a wry smile.

“It’s bad enough they’re trying to kill us!” Gadget complained. “Do they have to be obscene!?”

“Any ideas, partner?” Gordon asked as he finished pulling on his combat equipment.

“Just a notion,” Gary answered. “Grab a number four and a number seven demolition charge.”

“One Pipecutter and an Instant Doorknob, coming up,” Gordon said. He pulled open a small hatch in the floor and took a pair of nylon satchels out of the safety magazine.

“That cargo may be flammable,” Gadget warned. “What are you thinking of blowing up?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Gary responded. “It looks like the bad guys are on the forward half of the truck.”

“Do you want me to land you on the tanker catwalk? I can match speeds with no problem.”

The Two Scruffy Guys flinched once again at her fateful words.

“Fer cryin’ out loud,” Gordon scolded, “don’t say that!”

“Golly! I thought only Monterey Jack was that superstitious!”

“Okay, John Prettypenny,” Gary said. “Get in and drop us on the rear tank.”

“You’re sticking to the Buckaroo Banzai gig, huh?” Gadget said. “All right John, ummmm, John Patagium. Here we go.”

“Hit the skids, John Vair,” Gary said with a smile. He and Gordon opened the opposing side doors of the chopper and stood on the landing skids, crouched and ready to spring.

Gadget put the chopper into a steep descent and checked sharply just inches above the catwalk atop the truck’s rear tanker. Gary and Gordon stepped neatly onto their quarry, ducked low in the wind and began to move forward. The rocketing tanker truck caused traffic to scatter from its path as Highway Patrol cruisers screamed in pursuit and a bevy of news helicopters roared in a basso supporting chorus. For Los Angeles, it was pretty much a typical morning commute. In moments the Two Scruffy Guys reached the wide gap between the two huge tanks.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do?” Gadget asked urgently.

“I have now,” Gary said with satisfaction. “We’ll blow the brake line. That’ll lock the air brakes and we’ll have ‘em.”

“Guys,” Gadget said with trepidation, “I don’t think that’s going to work.”

“I don’t have anything else to try,” Gary growled. “Stay well clear, John Darling, in case something goes wrong.”

“Wait a minute, guys,” Gadget said. “They might have...”

“Just fly, sweetheart,” Gary called irritably. “We’ll take care of this end.”

“You could at least listen!” Gadget said, exasperated. “If they... Oh, forget it!”

She banked the chopper sharply and disappeared to the west of the freeway. Gordon grabbed his microphone again and shouted at Gary over the wind.

{“I told you not to be mean to her!”} Gordon hollered. {“You’re going to make her mad!”}

{“What do you mean be mean? I am not being mean and I am not making her mad!”}

Gordon wedged himself into a gap in the connecting tongue and grabbed on to Gary’s equipment harness. Gary leaned out beyond any semblance of prudence and began to set the demolition charge on the brake line.

Gadget pulled high and away from the freeway and scanned the territory ahead. She quickly spotted what she’d hope to find on a Friday morning - a parking lot flea market just setting up for the weekend. She brought the miniature chopper down to cowboy hat altitude and aimed for a table of inexpensive notions. Without the least hesitation or the slightest slowing, she grazed a tall display rack and swept up a set of ponytail rings, a pair of plastic rings connected by a length of elastic. The elastic caught in the landing skids and was held in place by the pressure of her airspeed, the rings flying free on either side of the chopper. She swung back toward the freeway and zeroed in on the fleeing truck.

The Two Scruffy Guys connected the ignition wire from the explosive charge to their tiny electric detonator and smiled at each other.

“Ready, John DuPont?” Gordon inquired.

“Let ‘er rip, John Nobel.” Gary responded.

Gordon squeezed the detonator. They were rewarded with a loud CRACK! and the sight of the brake line snapping in two. One end, still pressurized, whipped around madly.

The brakes didn’t lock.

“This could be bad,” Gordon said worriedly.

They watched in wide-eyed surprise as the pintle that connected the trailer to the truck neatly slid out of it’s socket and dropped the trailer towbar on the pavement in a fountain of sparks.

“This is very bad!” Gordon shouted.

The truck, now unburdened of tons of dead weight, leaped forward and continued to accelerate. Behind, traffic officers and L. A. drivers, accustomed to dealing with freeway disasters, slammed on their brakes. Ahead, drivers near the truck saw the event and floored their gas pedals. In a few seconds, there was nothing near the careening, freewheeling trailer tank but the squirrels.

“We are in trouble!” Gordon bellowed.

“I noticed that!” Gary answered.

“John Scruffy!” Gadget hollered. “UDT pickup!”

Gadget and the chopper were closing fast from behind the tanker, the ponytail rings hanging just below the landing skids. Gordon saw her intention, went flat on the deck and arched his arm into the air, aiming his fist for the dangling ring. Seeing that Gadget intended to grab them as a speedboat plucked up Underwater Demolition Team divers, Gary did the same.

{“Be glad you didn’t make her mad,”} Gordon bellowed.

{“Me?!”} Gary shouted.

The chopper streaked over them, muscular arms met plastic rings, and they were carried aloft, the elastic absorbing much of the shock of the pickup. The Scruffies swung up to the landing skids and held on.

“John Genius,” Gordon called, “How’d you know cutting the brake line wouldn’t work?”

“It’s what I would have done to keep from being stopped!”

“Hold it!” Gary said. “That means whoever set this up would have to be as smart as you are!”

“Golly!”Gadget said in surprise. “I didn’t think of that! I guess they would be!”

At that moment, the towbar of the trailer found one of the freeway’s inevitable potholes. The tank skidded, attempted to switch ends, and flipped on it’s side. The instant it touched down, there was a shattering explosion and a fireball that nearly caught up with the fleeing chopper. Gadget delicately kept the controls in balance as the shock wave tried to rob the craft of lift and slam it to the ground.

“Holy Guacamole!” Gordon howled. “That thing cratered the pavement! What in Hades are they carrying?”

“The Sheriff’s chopper is setting down on the freeway,” Gary advised. “I think some debris hit him. The squad cars are cut off. We’re all that’s left to catch him!”

Gary and Gordon quickly clambered back into the chopper and watched out the windshield as Gadget closed rapidly on the remaining half of the tanker truck.

“I hope you’ve got a plan ‘B’,” Gordon said. “I can’t figure out where he’s going. He’ll never get across the border into Mexico.”

“The driver probably wants to ditch the truck and make a run for it on foot,” Gary surmised.

“Ditch it!” Gadget cried as the dots connected. “Omigosh! I think he’s heading for the river!”

“The L. A. River?” Gordon questioned. “So what?”

“It’s still raining in the mountains!” Gadget exclaimed. “That means there’ll be water in the river!”

Normally, the lower Los Angeles River was an enormous concrete trench as wide and as dry as the freeways crossing over it. But when drenching rains hit the San Gabriel Mountains, it became a howling 50 mph torrent that had been known to carry away thirty-ton concrete mixers as if they were rubber duckies.

“Dang!” Gordon exclaimed. “I think you’re right! If he puts that truck in the river, it’ll keep going ‘till it hits Tokyo Bay! We better stop ‘em fast!”

“We’ll try it again,” Gary said. “Catch up with him and get over the catwalk.”

“Will you two listen to me this time!?” Gadget barked.

“I’ll try anything!” Gary conceded. “What have you got?”

“Get to the cab and get in the driver’s face,” she advised. “Don’t let him see where he’s going. Then steer the truck to the shoulder and let it scrape the Jersey barrier ‘till it stops.”

“That thing could blow if we damage the tank,” Gary warned.

“The tires will hit the bottom of the barrier first and you can let it scrub off speed,” Gadget said. “Can you two take control of that rig and not wreck it?”

“We took a course in emergency vehicle control,” Gordon affirmed. “Gary won a prize for running over the most traffic cones.”

“Watch out for that rat riding shotgun and try not to get killed, okay?” she pleaded.

“Can’t get killed, honey” Gary smiled. “We have a date. Let’s go, Gordo.”

Once again, they stepped onto the landing skids. Once again Gadget deposited them precisely on the back of the speeding tanker.

{“When did you get a date?”} Gordon asked.

{“This morning,”} Gary smirked. {“I have to make up with her for both of us.”}

{“You’re going to lose your date if you make her mad,”} Gordon warned.

{“I am NOT going to make her mad!”}

They began to move forward, crouching against the slipstream. A pair of rats clambered up the side of the tank and launched themselves at the intruders.

“Ahhh! Company!” Gordon cried with glee.

“No weapons!” Gary shouted. “One spark and we’ll end up in lunar orbit! Take ‘em hand-to-hand!!”

The rodent thugs apparently had learned from the example of the exploding trailer tank. They came at the Scruffies bare-handed as well.

“Have an hors d’oeuvres!” Gordon said pleasantly. He squared off and swiftly flattened a thug. “A canapé, perhaps!”

Gary caught his adversary and lofted him in a head over heels flip. “Nothing for me, thanks. I’m driving!”

“Awww, c’mon!” Gordon cajoled as he flattened a second adversary. “I made knuckle sandwiches just for the occasion!”

“Maybe some filet of sole.” Gary said as he nailed his opponent with a roundhouse kick.

“You can’t go wrong with fish,” Gordon called.

As he spoke, a half dozen more rats swarmed up from the underside of the tank.

“You see what happens?” Gordon observed as he laid out another crook. “You don’t make enough snacks and the whole gang shows up with an appetite.”

“And they say no one rides mass transit in L. A.,” Gary groused.

Fists, feet and semiconscious bodies flew wildly. It was street thugs and bullies against a pair of highly trained hand-to-hand fighters. While it was dangerous, it was not by any means a contest. But it was costing them time.

“Hurry up, you guys!” Gadget said urgently. “We’re gonna run out of freeway!”

“I always wanted to try hypnosis!” Gordon shouted. “You’re getting sleepy, <POW!> drowsy, <WHOMP!> you’re under my spell! <BONK, CRUNCH, BASH!> You’re falling asleep! <THUD!> Hey, this really works, John Mesmer!”

“I told you before,” Gary called, “no amateur hypnotism, John Svengali!”

“Gordon! Duck!” Gadget cried.

“Rabbit season!” Gordon shot back, but he flattened out as Gadget dropped the helicopter down on top of a rodent thug, clobbering him with the landing skid.

“Thanks, John Dear!” Gordon called.

“I’m a helicopter, not a tractor!” Gadget yelled.

An overpass zipped by, putting the truck in darkness for a moment. Gadget and the chopper vanished. Gary looked frantically for any sign of her. The chopper wasn’t behind or above the truck. If it hit the overpass...

“Gadget!” Gary shouted.

“WHAT!!?” she shouted right back.

She brought the chopper up into view, directly alongside the truck, doing ninety miles an hour - sideways!

“Doggone it, John Buttinski!” Gary bellowed. “I told you to stay out of this!”

“Don’t you lecture me, John Aggravating! I’ve been shot at, shown the birdie finger, just missed being involved in a massive auto wreck, and nearly blasted out of the sky! My stomach hurts, my head’s splitting, AND I’M GETTING MAD!!”

{“Now you see?”} Gordon yelled to his partner. {“See what you did? You’re making her mad.”}

{“ME! I’m making her mad!?”} Gary fired back. {“All the explosions and chasing and gunfire had nothing to do with it, I suppose? I’m making her mad!?”}

Several more rats climbed up from the underside of the tanker and joined the attack. As the gang closed on The Two Scruffy Guys, Gadget swung the helicopter into action. She swerved to her right and pasted one crook with the landing skid, then tilted the other way to nail another thug with the opposing skid. Now in the thick of the fight, Gadget turned the whirlybird into a flying cudgel, walloping the rats with the chopper’s skids as she spun them about like Little John’s quarterstaff. For a few moments Gary and Gordon ran out of functional adversaries and were left with nothing to do but stand aside as Gadget pivoted and veered over the truck.

“Y’know,” Gordon observed curtly, “she’s doing much better than we are. We could have just stayed home!”

“Great!” Gary growled. “I’ve got mouse with a hangover using a helicopter for a set of nunchacus and a wiseguy partner who wants to phone in the operation.”

“If we were having a good day, we wouldn’t have people trying to kill us,” Gordon said reasonably. “Why did you think things would start to improve now?”

“Watch out!” Gadget cried. “There’s two more!”

A pair of ticks appeared over the curve of the tank and moved to attack. Gadget intercepted them, bringing the chopper straight down on them. Their rock-hard carapaces made it impossible for the helicopter to crush them, but Gadget dropped the skids on them again and again, pounding them senseless.

“Ticks!” she howled. “Why did it have to be ticks!?”

“I’ll bet they’re wondering the same thing,” Gary said with a sympathetic flinch.

Another of the multi-legged parasites hurled himself at the Scruffies. Gadget saw him coming, stomped the rudder pedal and caught the tick in mid-leap with the tail of the helicopter, sending him sailing into a highway sign that reminded one and all that seat belts were required by law.

“Silly Gadget,” Gordon cried with glee. “Ticks are for skids!”

“I’ll getcha for that one, John Punster!” Gary growled.

“Will you two get on with it!!?” Gadget yelled. The Two Scruffy Guys discovered that Gadget had cleared the way of all opposition, and they hurried toward the cab.

“Don’t bother with the windows,” Gadget called. “The air vent is open just in front of the passenger door. Go in that way.”

She watched as the pair quickly clambered through the vent and hustled through the duct to the inside of the cab.

“John Houston,” Gary said anxiously. “We have a problem!”

“What’s wrong?” Gadget asked.

“There isn’t any driver!”

“It must be under remote control!” Gadget responded.

“There’s something bolted to the dashboard,” Gordon said. “Maybe a T.V. camera. Do you want us to rip it out?”

“Golly, no! There won’t be any control! Is the steering wheel moving?”

“Yeah! All by itself!” Gary answered.

“Okay,” Gadget replied. “They installed servo motors on the existing controls. We can still stop ‘em. Find something to stick under the clutch pedal!”

“Shouldn’t we hit the brake?” Gordon asked.

“No!” she cried with alarm. “They’ll just floor it and take off again and then they’ll know you’re in there! Jam the clutch first!”

“There’s some tools under the driver’s seat,” Gary called. Several seconds passed while Gadget heard the Scruffies straining with something.

“We’ve got a pair of pliers wedged under the clutch pedal,” Gary said. “It’s not gonna budge.”

“Right!” Gadget said. “Now find something to keep the shift lever from coming out of gear.”

“Wait a sec,” Gordon said. She heard a series of loud, metallic impacts over the radio. “Okay! We’ve got a couple of screwdrivers stuck in the shifter nice and tight. It’s in top gear for good.”

“NOW hit the brakes!” Gadget called. She watched for the wheels to lock up. For the truck to slow sharply.

Nothing happened.

“Did you hit the brakes?”

“Both of us did,” Gary responded. “The brake pedal’s stuck to the floor!”

“It was sorta like stepping on a ripe plum,” Gordon observed.

“This is going to turn out to be one of Gadget’s inventions, isn’t it?” Gary said, forgetting to cover his microphone. “There’s no brakes.”

“Oohh, you...!” Gadget shrilled in outrage. “You! You blew out the brakes, John Smithereens! I tried to tell you, but would you listen to the mechanic? Ohhh, NO! You wouldn’t listen to a word I said and now you’re going to give me a bunch of static about the brakes? You want to see brakes? I’ll show you some brakes!”

The chopper zoomed away with a buzz as angry as its pilot. Gordon glared at his partner.

{“Now you’ve done it,”} Gordon whispered viciously. {“You made her mad.”}

{“I DID NOT MAKE HER MAD!!”} Gary thundered.

Gadget pushed the chopper for all it was worth. Given the route the truck was taking, there was only one easy access to the river, and she was running out of time.

“John Lifeline,” Gary called over the radio. “I hope you haven’t given up on us.”

“I’ve got an idea,” she responded. “I don’t know if it’ll work. If that thing slows down enough, jump!”

“No chance of that,” Gordon said. “Everyone’s heard the traffic reports and they can see us coming. They’re clearing the way and we’re not slowing down!”

“Then hang on tight!” Gadget said. “One set of big brakes coming up!”

Gadget swooped down on the L. A. River near the freeway where a city street overpass crossed the thundering watercourse. The entire periphery of the river was fenced off and there were only a few ramps where maintenance crews could gain access to the concrete riverbed. Gadget descended on the ramp next to the overpass and searched for the item she needed.

Rescue attempts of unfortunate or careless humans had prompted the fire department to pre-position certain heavy equipment on the riverbank. Now, Gadget found what she was looking for. Coiled near the overpass was a snatch cable, an inch thick steel cable whose ends were fastened in permanent loops with unbreakable steel cable clamps. It was the giant sized version of the ponytail rings she had picked up earlier, and she had similar plans for it. She caught the landing skid in one of the cable loops and began to lift it until she slipped the loop over the fat steel post that supported one of the the security gates.

Gary and Gordon labored mightily in the truck cab, making a last effort to pull the emergency brake. Giving it a final, powerful heave, the lever released and slammed to the rear. The Scruffy Guys tumbled in a heap on the floor of the cab. If anything, the truck went faster.

“I’m not feeling any happier about this,” Gordon said dryly.

“I could throw you over the side on a line as an anchor,” Gary replied irritably. “That should slow us down a little bit.”

Gordon flailed his arms in frustration. “At least it’d be progress!”

The situation changed abruptly. The pair found themselves gazing at each other’s puzzled expressions as they briefly hovered two feet off the floor. They slammed into the floorboards and returned to a tangled heap as the entire truck bounced like a Lakers basketball.

“John Drag Chute!” Gary called urgently. “I think we’re off the freeway! Whatever you’re doing you’d better do it fast!”

Gordon climbed swiftly up the dashboard to look out the windshield. “Crimanie! We’re on city streets at seventy-five! Sombody’s gonna get hurt! Yeeeeowwwww!”

Gadget heard a hard thud come through the radio. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Gordon replied. “I just fell off the dashboard. The guy driving this thing is crazy!”

“He’s not gonna get killed!” Gary reminded him. “We’re not gonna get a chance to bail out, John Mayday! Make it happen!”

“I’m working on it!” she growled. She was trying at that moment to get the second cable loop over the other gatepost. The helicopter strained as it barely lifted the entire weight of the cable. Gadget played the throttle and collective like a virtuoso, scraping the last shreds of lift out of the helicopter.

“C’mon,” she coaxed. “Engineers always leave a little more lift than the blueprints tell. Give it to me now! C’mon!”

Gadget spotted the truck as it swerved off the street and barreled down the ramp toward her. She threw caution to the winds, cranked on the throttle and called on the chopper to succeed or explode. The tiny twin rotor helicopter hauled the cable the last remaining inches and dropped the loop over the gatepost. Gadget dodged the chopper away and just missed being swatted out of the air by the passenger side mirror as the truck hit the gates.

It was over in the next few seconds. The lock and chain on the gate burst apart on impact, but the snatch cable was made of sterner stuff. It held.

The gateposts didn’t. They were uprooted in a flash.

Then, the fine product of United States Steel proved why it had always deserved the name Cyclone Fence. The chain link fence stayed attached to the gateposts. It stretched and distorted but would not yield. The truck tore out the next pair of fenceposts, cement bases and all, and the ones beyond those, and still the fence refused to break. Suddenly slowed and with the transmission jammed, the truck’s engine stalled with an enormous backfire. Six more sets of fenceposts were dragged from their moorings before the heavy truck came to rest. With its engine dead and its gearbox locked, it was not only stopped - it was immobilized.

“Guys! Are you all right!?” Gadget swung the chopper down in front of the windshield, trying to spot her friends. She also put herself directly in front of the television camera, and unwittingly sent her portrait to unfriendly eyes.

“This pursuit is terminated!” Gordon crowed happily.

“Set down and meet us on the right side, John Loveliness!” Gary called. “We’ve got to get into that sample case before the police get here!”

“The city police won’t try to stop us,” Gordon said as he headed into the air duct to the outside.

“I don’t want any of us near here when a bunch of pursuit-pumped street cops start pointing guns this way! Hurry!”

Gary and Gordon emerged from the air vent and scrambled down the side of the cab to the chrome plated step beneath the passenger door. Gadget parked the chopper safely under the overpass and ran to join them. Sirens of many police cars and the buzz of news helicopters grew louder as they closed in. Gordon grabbed the heavy spring latch that held the compartment shut and struggled to open it.

“Hi, honey,” Gary said tentatively. “Are you mad at me?”

“Of course I’m not mad at you,” she answered. “You two just had me worried.”

“Almost got it,” Gordon said as he gave the latch another pull.

“There’s going to be more than we can carry,” Gadget advised. “How will we sort out what’s important?”

“There’s no time,” Gary said. “Grab an armload of whatever it is and we’ll hope for the best,”

The latch gave way to Gordon’s efforts and the door slammed down. The trio froze.

“Omigosh,” Gadget gasped. There would be no grabbing, no armloads. They were confronted by dozens of dazed faces. Dozens of pairs of eyes blinking in the sudden bright light. Dozens of shell-shocked, frightened mice.

“Oh my gosh!” Gadget repeated. “Come on, everybody! We’ve got to get out of here!”

The mice began to stir, slowly. Only a few moved tentatively toward the opening.

“Please, hurry!” Gadget urged. Then she raised her voice to a commanding tone. “Rescue Rangers! Follow my partners! Everybody get to the overpass before we get stepped on!”

The famous name worked like magic. The mice began to move as a group, sliding down the open hatch and moving quickly to safety. Their voices rose to a soft buzz of conversation.

“Is that Gadget? Oh, gosh! It is Gadget!”

“I didn’t think Dale was that big.”

“Keep going!” Gadget ordered. “Straight to the overpass!”

“13, 14, 15,” Gordon counted as the mice passed. If they had to move again, a head count would insure no one was left behind.

“Gee, is that really Chip?” a small mouse asked her companion. “He doesn’t look that smart.”

Gary frowned terribly at the comment. Gadget overheard and couldn’t quite suppress a smile.

“38, 39, 40,” Gordon continued.

The approaching police sirens hit a crescendo and began to spin down. The screech of tires reached the rodents.

“Help me get the last ones!” Gadget called as she scooped a limping mouse’s arm over her shoulder. Gordon climbed into the box and pulled the last mouse up into a fireman’s carry, then scurried away.

“Fifty-four!” he advised as he set the mouse down in the shadow of the overpass.

“This is the police!” a loudspeaker boomed. “We consider you armed and dangerous! Driver, roll down your window and put your hands outside the vehicle!”

“It’ll take them a while to figure out there’s nobody there,” Gary said. He picked out two of the mice. “You two, go up on the far side of the overpass and flag down the police Rodent Division when they get here. Gadget, Gordon, start triage. Check everyone for injuries.”

They moved smoothly to their tasks. By the time human police detectives began searching the tanker truck, the rodent victims had been taken to safety. Those that seemed in the worst shape were handed over to the Animal Ambulance Service and the rest were driven to police headquarters by the officers of the Rodent Division. Gary stood next to their helicopter staring at the tanker truck as Gadget and Gordon returned from the evacuation area.

“That’s the last of them,” Gordon reported. “No life-threatening injuries. We got lucky.”

“This is what happened to the mice that were kidnapped. None too old, none too young,” Gary growled, his voice brittle with anger. “They called it a sample case. Those mice were the samples!” He drew back and slammed his fist into the side of the chopper with such force Gadget was sure he must have broken bones.

“Gary!” she cried, grabbing his hand. She quickly found his hand was fine, but he’d dented the chopper. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Sorry,” he said softly. He looked down at her, still holding his hand, and regretted he’d let his rage show through. He changed the subject quickly. “That was a good set of brakes you came up with. I humbly take back all ‘no brakes’ jokes.”

“I got the idea from your air delivery system up in Tillamook. I figured it would work if we didn’t run out of fence.” She suddenly clasped her hands over her stomach and groaned softly. “I think I’m still a little sick.”

“Well,” Gordon said, “I wouldn’t recommend ‘hair of the dog’ in this case. We’ll take you back to the Nest Egg for a proper hangover breakfast and then drop you off at Ranger Headquarters.”

“By then the Rangers will have the news,” Gary said smiling. “And you can have all the applause.”

“And you won’t get any of the credit,” she answered sadly. “It’s not fair.”

“Life’s not fair, Gadget,” Gary said with a smile.

She grabbed them both in a quick, heartfelt hug. “You both did a wonderful job!”

* * *

Epilogue - Hidden Agendas, Careful Concealments And Rash Revelations.
Or,
It Looks Like The End Of The Story, But It’s A Very Bad Design.

“It figures,” Chip said. “I tell everybody to take a day off, and you go out and bust the case wide open.”

Chip sat in his office writing the day’s events in his case file. He had gathered most of the story from interviews with the released mice and directed only a few questions to Gadget. She still didn’t like the idea of fibbing to her friends, but she was determined to protect the Two Scruffy Guys regardless of her own feelings.

“They were right in the neighborhood,” Gadget said. “I was just lucky to be able to borrow that helicopter when I found out what was going on.” Sorta true, she thought.

“You even made the network news,” Chip said, “even though they weren’t deliberately aiming the cameras at you. Who were those two guys who were helping you out at the end?”

“Just a couple of concerned citizens. I didn’t get their names. John something-or-other.” Also true, as far as it goes, she thought.

“Well, you solved one mystery and we’ve picked up another. Why were all those mice kidnapped? Where were they going? And what was going to happen to them?”

“Not to mention who did it,” she replied. “Someone both crafty and crazy enough to drive a tanker truck on Los Angeles freeways by remote control.”

“Why did they go to all that trouble?” Chip wondered. “Building all those motors and radio controls?”

“The chemicals in the tanks were dangerously unstable,” Gadget noted. “And there was no driver for the police to question if anything went wrong.”

“But there were rats to question, even if the ticks got away,” Chip said. “The Rodent Division identified two of the mousenappers. One was one of Bubbles’ goons from the Cola Cult. The other was Louie, one of Bela Nogoodnick’s old henchrats.”

“It couldn’t be! Weren’t they exiled?”

“It’s been happening more often,” Chip said. He sat heavily behind his desk, looking much more weary than the day’s efforts should have made him. “It used to be that exile was a perfect way to deal with animals who had gone wrong. It broke up the gangs, no one in their new environment would trust the exiles right away, and they knew if they came back they’d get sent somewhere worse. But now, it’s so easy to hitch a ride on a plane or truck, and the animal communities are so cosmopolitan, they can blend back in easily. We may have to find another way to deal with them.”

“Like humans do?” Gadget said in surprise. “Lawyers and courts? Prisons? Congress?”

“Lord, I hope it doesn’t come to that.” Chip groaned.

“I guess we’ll just have to keep our eyes open for old suspects.” Gadget concluded.

“It’ll be easier to keep track of them once we can share information with other small animal agencies. How’s the Internet hookup coming?”

“I’ll get it,” she said testily. “All the components check out. I’m just having a little trouble with the programing. They didn’t do things in a very logical manner.”

Chip smiled. He knew Gadget wouldn’t give up on a challenge, no matter how frustrating it might prove to be. In this case, though, he resolved to find some assistance, anyway. Internet access was too vital to the Rangers’ future to delay very long.

He watched Gadget give the computer another try, and discovered something missing. The feeling for a face. The thrill of the chase. Sometime, somewhere, a part of himself had gone missing. What he had felt especially for Gadget, his desire to be close to her, was missing. His longing for her was gone.

What he found most strange was that he hardly missed the feeling at all.

* * *

Gadget stepped out of the fur fluffer and wrapped herself in a thick white terry cloth robe. Most evenings she finished her day with a brisk shower, but the madcap day she had endured demanded a long relaxing soak in the tub. She had just hung up her bath towel when she heard a faint tapping sound. It might have merely been a leaf brushing against her bedroom window, except the “leaf” was tapping in Morse code. Softly but distinctly, it spelled out D-G-S.

Gadget smiled broadly as she went to the window and opened it, knowing who she would find. Sure enough, a moment later Gary poked his head above the sill of the window.

“Sneaking around a mousette’s window,” she chided playfully. “You might at least serenade me to throw off suspicion.”

“I heard the bathtub running,” Gary said as he smoothly slipped into the room. “I thought I’d give you a chance to enjoy your bath before I knocked.”

Gadget glanced to the window again. “Where’s Gordon? Did something happen?”

“He’s finishing our report,” Gary said, his tone becoming serious. “But something did happen. I’m afraid it’s not good news.”

Gadget’s smile faded at the solemn tone of his voice.

“While we were on the operation... Well... We got word when we got back that Solomon Gorsky passed away.”

“Oh no!”

“It seems he died in his sleep. They’ve already held the funeral, but the animals are going to hold a memorial for him tomorrow night in MacArthur Park. I thought you might like to go.”

“Of course,” she said softly. “Thank you. I... Oh golly! I hardly knew him, and I feel like I just lost an old friend.”

“We all have. Even animals that never met him have lost a friend.”

Gary took a small envelope from his pocket. “Sol left a second last will of things he wanted given to the animals he knew. He left this for you.”

Gary handed her the envelope. Her name had been carefully written in delicate script by the hand of a master engraver.

“What could I have done to deserve this?” Gadget said wonderingly.

“I don’t know,” Gary replied. “You must have made quite an impression on him. Maybe he knew about your work with the Rangers.”

“He did know I was a Rescue Ranger,” Gadget agreed. She tried to pull herself back to present. “Did you learn any more about the tanker truck?”

“We made some progress. The purchase documents and registration on the truck were phony. The stuff in the tank was a mix of solvents and catalysts and various chemicals. Our lab rats think it was left over from some sort of organic process. They’re still doing tests.”

“We accounted for almost all the mousenap victims,” Gadget said. “No clues as to who did it or why. Did you get any good leads?”

“Very little,” he said. “They were mousenapped at random from all over the city. None of them learned what the mousenappers wanted.”

“Some of them looked like they were pretty badly injured,” she said pointedly. “Several had bullseye-shaped marks on their skin.”

“They’ll all recover,” Gary said, turning away from her. “The vet hospital hasn’t said what the injuries were from. It might have been chemical exposure.”

“Chemical exposure!” she snapped angrily. “What are you trying to pull? That was no skin rash they had!”

“Gadget!” Gary hissed urgently, “keep your voice down!”

Her voice dropped in volume but raised in temperature. “You know perfectly well what happened to them!” she growled. “You know what those marks mean as well as I do! You’re trying to hide it from me because you think I can’t handle the truth!”

Gary stepped back from her as she advanced and realized too late that he had crossed the boundry he had carefully avoided all day. He had finally made her mad.

“I don’t live in some fantasy world where it’s always sunny and bright and the villains always fall on their faces!” Gadget railed. “Do you think I haven’t seen how ugly the world can be? That nothing bad ever happened to me? Do you think I don’t know what those injuries on those mice mean? That I don’t...”

She stopped suddenly and turned her back to him as a single, heart-rendering sob escaped her. She gasped, fighting back tears as an emotional avalanche tumbled through her.

“Doggone you, Gary,” she whispered painfully. “I haven’t thought about that in years. You made me remember.” She faced him once again as her voice became steady and her resolve took hold.

“My Dad said when I remembered this, I had to tell the whole story, or it’d come back in my nightmares. So now, you’re going to have to listen to the whole story.”

“I was nine years old and my Dad and I were in Siskiyou Mountains up in Northern California...”

She loosened the tie of her bathrobe, knowing what she would have to do before the story came to its end.

* * *

“Are you all right, sweetie?” Geegaw called.

“I’m all right,” Gadget insisted. “I’m not afraid of the dark. I’m not a baby.”

Geegaw had decided not to press their flight over the Siskiyous at night with uncertain weather, and landed in a mountain meadow to wait for morning. Gadget was having a ball with the unplanned camp out. She was excited by the rare opportunity to visit the wild and sleeping in her underwear instead of pajamas seemed daring and made her feel grown-up. She snuggled into her bedroll and glanced across the campsite where her father lay in his blanket. The campfire burned to reddening embers and Gadget watched the stars gleam in their distant glory. Sleep beckoned, and she reluctantly followed its lure.

Hours passed, she couldn’t tell how long, when she awakened into a fuzzy, near-sleep state. Sleeping on her tummy, she felt movement along her back. Fingers crept through her fur. Her blanket lifted slightly, letting the cool night air reach her skin.

”Daddy?” she said groggily.

“Shut up, kid!” The male voice was an angry hiss just behind her ear. “Shut up and don’t move!”

“Whaaa...! What are you...!” Panic snapped Gadget fully awake. The intruder pressed her down into her bedroll with alarming strength. Pinned down, she couldn’t turn her head to see.

“Shut up, shut up!” the voice demanded. “I got friends. You give me any trouble and you’ll really get it!”

Gadget could just barely see her father’s bedroll across the campfire. Was there someone near him? She couldn’t be sure.

“Don’t you hurt my Daddy,” she whispered sternly.

“I won’t hurt him. It ain’t gonna hurt you, really. Just hold still and keep your mouth shut.”

The intruder’s weight pressed down on her. His fingers scrabbled beneath her underwear, pushing it aside. He grasped her in a powerful grip that hurt, but she was too terrified to struggle. She could only feel his rough body and his warmth on her back. There was no more speech, just heavy panting and inarticulate grunts and finally a sickening slurping sound. After a time he shifted his weight suddenly, causing her a sharp pain and she squeaked involuntarily.

From across the campsite, Geegaw stirred.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” he said sleepily.

“I’m okay,” she whispered. “I’m all right. Go back to sleep!”

The quiet desperation in his daughter’s voice shot Geegaw instantly awake. In the dim glow of the dying fire he could just make out where she lay. And that something was under her blanket.

Geegaw kicked away his bedding and rushed across the clearing, on his way grabbing the most potent weapon at hand - fire. He snatched a stout stick from the campfire, his speed causing it to burst into fresh flame. He ripped the blanket away from Gadget and roared in fury and disgust even as Gadget cried out in fear. Geegaw shoved the firebrand into the intruder’s face, and the creature shrieked as he tried to disengage from her. A moment later Gadget felt his weight lift up, and she scrambled away, turning over to finally see what had invaded her bed.

It was a tick. Gadget clapped her right hand to a spot on her back that suddenly hurt and her fingers came away bloody. She found herself repulsed at the sight of the insect, his proboscis slick and red and his pink belly gorged and bloated with her blood. Geegaw smashed the bloodsucker again and again with his fist. Then, in a moment of towering rage, he drop kicked the vile parasite. Though the pines around them soared over fifty feet, the tick cleared the treetops with ease. Gadget could hear him cursing as he rebounded and ricocheted down the steep rocky slope beyond. Geegaw hurried to his daughter’s side.

“Daddy, I’m bleeding,” Gadget said with a trembling voice.

“Let me see,” Geegaw said. She lifted her t-shirt and Geegaw gasped softly at the sight. “It’s not bad. I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Geegaw returned in seconds and set to work disinfecting and bandaging the wound. Finally safe, stress and fear poured out of Gadget as freely as her tears.

“I couldn’t see,” she sobbed. “He said he had friends and I didn’t know what he was trying to do and I couldn’t feel him biting me, and he said he’d hurt you if I made a sound and I couldn’t let him do that!”

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Geegaw soothed. “Ticks will threaten and lie to you to get you to hold still. They anesthetize the spot where they bite so you don’t feel it” He held her tenderly in his arms. “It’s all over now.”

“Daddy, he...” she choked on her own tears. “Golly, Daddy I’m...”

“Don’t tell me you’re sorry,” he insisted gently, brushing back her hair. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You were very, very brave trying to protect me. You just didn’t know the right way. You and I are a team, sweetie. When one of us is in trouble, we have to help each other. We’re safest when we stick together and work together.”

* * *

Gary sat at the foot of Gadget’s bed as if borne down by the enormity of the tale she told. Gadget stood in front of him, her voice still stern and uncompromising.

“That bite began to hurt after the anesthetic wore off,” Gadget said. “It ached, then it burned, then it ached a while longer. But what made me mad was that I had to have boosters for all my shots. That and the nightmares. I’d wake up at night thinking something was in my bed, or trying to get in. Ever since then I’ve wanted a nightgown that covered every inch of me.”

Gadget abruptly turned her back to him and boldly pushed the robe off her right shoulder, letting it fall down her back while holding the front carefully in place with her left hand.

“Do you see it?” she asked sharply. “The scar? That bite should have healed, but when Dad forced that tick off me, he ripped the skin. It’s the little memento he left to remember him by. That’s why I won’t wear a two-piece bathing suit. I don’t want to be reminded of it by everyone that walks up behind me and asks what that scar is from.”

Gary saw it, just below her right arm, a small pink circle with a dot in the middle, like a bullseye. He placed his fingertips on the scar. Gadget felt strangely warmed by his touch. It seemed as if he were trying to banish the scar, the old pain, and even the memory. It was a touch that comforted her more than she expected, and it wasn’t until he took his hand away that she closed her robe and turn to face him.

“When I had nightmares, my Dad would make me tell him the whole story again. When I got to the part where he booted that tick, I had to laugh. Eventually, the nightmares stopped. At least, mine did.

“My Dad knew we were in tick country,” Gadget went on, “but he didn’t warn me. He wanted to protect me and didn’t want to frighten me. But doing that left me defenseless. I was helpless when that tick found me. It wasn’t Dad’s fault, but he never forgave himself for what happened.”

Her voice softened and she gently touched his shoulder. “I can handle the things from the darkness. But I can’t stand being left in the dark. Don’t do that to me, Gary. Don’t do that to yourself.”

Gary sighed deeply as he abandoned his deception. “You were right about the mice. They were bitten by the ticks. The vet center is checking them for any blood borne disease. So far, it looks like they were lucky.

“That isn’t the worst of it,” he went on. “Ticks normally stick to large animals or humans, where they’re hardly noticed. But when they form gangs and prey on small animals, they become vicious. The survivors told us that the ticks would take one of the mice and stuff them in a mesh cage, hardly big enough for them to fit in. Then the ticks would bite them through the mesh. You know that a tick won’t bite where another tick has bitten recently?” Gadget nodded that she understood. “They’d keep after a mouse until they were too weak to fight or run away. Then they’d drag the mouse out and chain them to something and just keep feeding off them. Some for days, until there wasn’t a clean spot to bite.

“We found two of the mice back in the warehouse where they loaded the tanker. Dead. They’d been... exsanguinated. Drained of blood. There were tick bites all over them. Their hands... Around their eyes... Everywhere.”

Gadget could hear the pain in his voice has he related the facts. She could feel his sense of failure because of the loss of life, and she began to realize that deep inside his spirit was too gentle for the work he was doing. He only did it because he could do nothing less.

“Here,” Gary said. He pulled a sheaf of documents out of his jacket pocket. “These are the details from our mission report. I sanitized it so no one will know where it came from, but all the info’s there. I was going to jimmy Chip’s office window and leave it on his desk, but you can give it to him. Just tell him you have your own sources.”

“I take it... I shouldn’t look at the pictures?” she asked.

“Look at whatever you like,” he answered contritely. “You have every right to know the truth about it.”

“I don’t need to look,” she reassured him. “Thanks for being honest with me.”

“I guess I’d better go,” Gary said. He made his way to the window with Gadget following. As he opened the window, she sighed deeply.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “I was just thinking of Mr. Gorsky. Los Angeles is such a long way from Jerusalem.”

“I think they’ll save a spot in the first rank for one like Sol,” Gary assured. “I’ll meet you over at the old elm tree tomorrow night to pick you up for the memorial.”

“And Friday,” she reminded him. “We have a date.”

“I won’t forget,” he answered. “I’ll be here at six-thirty.”

“I’ll meet you at the garage entrance,” she said. “No one will wonder what I’m doing or where I am if they see me headed for the garage.”

“Take care,” Gary said as he slipped out the window.

“You too,” she responded. There was a brief skittering sound as he climbed down the tree, then silence.

Gadget turned her attention to the envelope Gary had brought. Inside was a mouse-sized note neatly computer printed in a miniscule mouse sized font.

Dear Miss Hackwrench;
As I cleared my grandfather’s accounts, I found this. You may call upon me at any time.
Sincerely,
David Gorsky

She found a yellow mouse-size merchandise receipt in the envelope. It’s script was hand lettered and matched the writing on the envelope. Clearly the work of Solomon Gorsky. The receipt bore her name at the top and read:

Wedding Dress -
Size - M-5.
Style - Extravagant.
Paid in Full.

Of all the events and memories she had experienced this day, this touched her the most deeply. Here was one of the final acts of someone she hardly knew, a human at that, and it had been to provide for her unknowable future. Astonishment, bewilderment and a profound sense of loss welled up in her until it overflowed in the need for action.

“If Mr. Gorsky had so much faith in me,” she said softly to herself, “maybe I should have a little faith in myself.”

She turned to her dresser and pulled out a drawer. She overturned it onto her bed and emptied it of clothing, tools and small mechanical parts, all of which would find new homes later. She went to her wall safe and opened it, pushing aside blueprints and the secrets of the Ranger’s equipment until her hand closed on a tiny velvet covered box. She opened it to gaze on the treasure within, a thick golden ring. She returned to the drawer and placed the box and the envelope inside, and took just a moment to carefully check their placement before running the drawer closed.

Gadget had never felt the need for a hope chest, and all it held so far was a receipt and her father’s wedding ring. But she was determined, from that night onward, to make it grow.

THE END

COPYRIGHTS AND DISCLAIMERS: Gadget, Chip, Dale, Monterey Jack, Zipper, Foxglove, Tammy and the Rescue Rangers are © and T.M. The Walt Disney Company and were employed here without permission.

All other characters, locations, equipment and situations are © 2006 by David D. White. Permission to copy and redistribute without charge is granted, provided the work is not altered, edited, chased, tickled, dumped in the L.A. River or otherwise fiddled with.

The Sepulvada Dam Surfing Competition is currently reserved for small animals. Do not try this in Los Angeles. Or anywhere else.

Stay alert at all times while driving. Maintain safe following distances. Yield to emergency vehicles and rodent-piloted helicopters.

Made on Macintosh computers with Appleworks and Adobe Go-Live software.

www.monikalivingstone.com

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