The Bikini Break
VII- Impossible Conditions
Morning came with the brilliant silver promise of a cloudless Pacific day. Gadget and her companions awoke and stretched and yawned. An unusual movement caught Gary’s eye, and he circled past the first aid kit, removed something from it, then sneaked up behind Gordon and grabbed him by the right ear.
“OWWWW! Leggo by ear!”
“Shush, you,” Gary ordered. “I saw you wiggling your finger in your ear just now.” He took a cotton swab and probed deeply into Gordon’s ear. Gadget hurried to his side.
“What is it?” she asked. “Did something get in his... Good golly!” Gary withdrew the swab, covered with reeking yellowish goo. Gadget clapped her hands over her nose at the smell.
“Don’ go how dat habbind,” Gordon groaned. His voice sounded like his head was stuffed with Styrofoam.
“It happened because you went in the ocean without your earplugs, Mr. Last-one-in’s-a-cat’s-breakfast. This is nasty. He has the Kilauea of sinuses. When they flow, whole counties are wiped out and new land appears.”
“Eeeewwww! Gary, that’s ghastly! What an unkind metaphor!”
“Ya, stig id, you flibbin flyig skirl!”
“Should we get him to a vet?”
“Nearest vet’s on Kwajalein. He’s had this sort of infection before. We have antibiotics aboard the Bullet. Those’ll clear his sinuses and hold him until we’re finished here. But you, buster, are not going in the water again, right?”
“Right. Ogay. I’m Papa Topside for da dive.”
“At least it’s not as bad as last time,” Gary said. “You can help with the submersible instead of being completely laid up.”
“If we’re going to build it in time,” Gadget said, “we’d better get started now.”
* * *
Three Scruffy rodents began to search through the cast-offs of the long abandoned military post for the shreds and tatters that would put them on track to saving a small paradise. As the morning wore on, Gadget became increasingly down-hearted, her eyes more downcast, her forehead more lined, her posture more defeated. At last, as they completed a tour under the paint shop, she was reduced to gently kicking sand over the unusable flotsam that remained. There were very few things that Gadget couldn’t fix, but a complete lack of basic parts was one of them.
“I thought we could find something,” she said, giving a rusted nail an idle nudge. “We got the dive raft fixed up so easily, I was sure we could at least get a start on a sub.”
“I guess we got lucky on the raft,” Gordon surveyed the dismal scene. “I’m sorry, Gadget. This is a complete bust.”
“They didn’t leave much I can work with,” Gadget said. “Just small hardware, scrap metal and old expendables. I need more complex leftovers. Are there any other installations on the island?”
“Yes, the old observation center,” Gary said, pointing to the west. “They used to monitor the atomic tests from there.”
“Darn it,” Gadget groused. “Almost everything those guys worked with was classified. They wouldn’t have left much behind. But if it’s all we’ve got, let’s have a look.”
The observation post was as Gadget feared - nearly devoid of salvageable materials. It didn’t take long for her to make the determination. “There’s nothing here except empty instrument cabinets and old wiring,” she declared. “All the equipment is probably in Nevada.”
“There’s one more place we can check,” Gary said, indicating a small sand dune. “Over this way.”
Gadget followed the guys over the rise and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight that greeted her. Her face became an expression of awe and reverence, of near religious passion, as if she’d just entered a cathedral. Crates, boxes, and metal cargo containers sat mixed in with stacks of lumber and structural metal. All about were the innards of machines whose origin and purpose could only be guessed at.
“Ohhh, my gosh!” Gadget keened. “This is wonderful! How far does it go?”
“It’s probably about fifteen acres,” Gary answered. “I don’t know if it’ll do us any good.”
“Are you crazy? Turn me loose in here and I’ll build you anything you can dream up. This is an inventor’s paradise!” She stared at the sight, clutching her hands together under her muzzle, her tail drawing lazy curly-Q’s in the air. “A government supply dump. And here I was afraid I’d be sitting on the beach, bored.”
She began to walk toward the open air supply yard. Then, unable to restrain herself, she broke into a run and dived head first into an enormous stack of cardboard boxes. Gary and Gordon strolled up a minute later, still puzzled by their friend’s wild excitement.
“I take it you think there’s something useful here?” Gary called.
“Of course!” she said joyously. “We’ve got the best resources in the world. Most of this stuff still works. The government left it behind because it would cost more to ship it home than it would to replace.”
Gadget burrowed into the stacks of crates and boxes, reading the arcane stock numbers and material codes like hieroglyphics. “Ohhhhh, golly. Actuators.” She was absolutely entranced. “Cases and cases of prime hydraulic actuators. Oooh, oooh! Gee whiz! Flap drive gearboxes!”
“Just the thing if we have to flap instead of drive,” Gordon quipped.
“Do you have any idea how much neat stuff there is in a flap gearbox?” Gadget responded, her eyes aglow. “The gears, the clutches, the high strength bearings, and all packed in top-quality mil-spec grease! And... Omigosh! An AN-205/477A!” She ran her hands over the rough wooden crate as if it were fine silk. “I’ve read about them, but I’ve never actually touched one! Golly! If they’ve got an AN-205/477A, maybe they’ve got...” She positively quivered in anticipation as she climbed among the crates.
“Do you think there’s anything else in her life that makes her behave like that?” Gordon queried.
“One can only hope.”
“Omigosh!” Gadget squeaked. “Oh, I don’t believe this!”
“Gadget!” Gary called. “Come out here! You’re running around barefoot!”
“What is it with you and my feet?” she answered, her voice echoing from some metallic hollow. “Do you have some special attraction for my feet?”
“Other than not having to wrap them in bandages, no!” he said loudly. “You’re climbing around unprotected in a pile of scrap metal! Does that sound sensible to you?”
Gadget reappeared several yards from where she had entered the heap. “Where does this end? Am I going to have to wear Stormtrooper armor?”
Gary held up the white deck shoes and waved them at her. “You come here and put on your shoes!”
She stalked down the row of crates and grabbed the contentious footwear from him, then plopped down and pulled them on. “Honestly, you sound just like my Dad.”
“Well, listen to your Dad and take better care of yourself. There’re enough unexpected hazards to deal with, and we don’t need any injuries from the obvious ones.”
“You can stop worrying,” Gadget tugged her shoelaces. “With all of this material, building a submarine will be a snap. Just keep an eye out for something to seal that darn cylinder with.”
“Junkyard Wars for rodents,” Gary announced. “The reclaiming rodents of Team Scruffy, versus Typhoon Sebastian. You have forty-eight hours to bodge together a way to close up a submerged radioactive container.” He picked up a loose ball bearing and tossed it into the scrap pile. When it stopped clattering he shouted, “GO!”
“You know, some of these are dated from the Forties,” Gordon said, scanning the crates around them. “What can you possibly do with this junk?”
“There’s no such thing as junk,” she said sharply, going head-first into a crate. “Everything’s useful in one way or another. Think of all this as an uncataloged warehouse. We have everything we need. We just have to find it.”
“You’re kidding, aren’t you?”
“No! If you’re a bit creative and have the right attitude, nothing is ever wasted. Whatever it is, I can make it work or find a use for it’s parts every time.”
Gary and Gordon eyed each other knowingly. The game of Stump The Mouse was on.
They continued up the row, looking for whatever Gadget might be able to use. Every few feet one of the guys would grab some oddity out of the scrap pile and challenge Gadget’s bold assertion.
“For once, Gadget, I think you’re out of your depth. Look at this,” Gordon said, pointing out a piece of machinery caked in brown dust. “This is junk.”
“That’s an air compressor, and it’s just a bit rusty,” she answered. “I could clean that up and have it working in ten minutes.”
“What about this?” Gary asked, as he shifted a small box. “I don’t think anyone’s used an aircraft bubble sextant since the Eighties.”
“I could pull out the telescope or make use of the mirrors. It’s not useless.”
“How about this?” Gordon pointed to a box with sun-faded identification.
“That’s an oil pump. You can still pump any liquid with it.”
“How ‘bout this?” Gary called, dragging a heavy tool out of the sand.
“That’s a pinion puller. It’s for working on transmissions.”
“Here, Gadget,” Gordon said, spilling out a box of silver half-spheres. “What could you do with these?”
“Oh! Typeface balls from old IBM Selectric typewriters! Ummm, can I take one of these home? I’ve been looking for one for months. I want to make a crash helmet out of it. I can make a couple for you, too.”
“Hmmm,” Gordon studied the labels on top of the spheres. “I can’t decide if I’d want my head to be Bodini Bold or Banker Gothic.”
“You know, she’s right,” Gary allowed. “This would make a nice salad bowl.”
They continued on through the storage yard, the Scruffies game almost causing them to lose track of their original purpose. Gadget had no difficulty staying the course. It was her friend’s ongoing challenges that were getting on her nerves.
“I’ll bet this is junk,” Gary yodeled from the interior of a large metal cabinet. “I can’t even guess what it was.”
“That’s a lubricant spectrometer. You can tell when an engine’s going to fail by analyzing the metal shavings that get in the oil. There’s no end of usable electrical parts in it.”
“This has to be too old to be useful,” Gordon said from the top of a stack of metal. “It’s half oxidized.”
“That is aircraft structural aluminum, and it’s just surface corrosion.” she said testily. “I could knock off the crud and still build any kind of structure out of that.”
“I don’t think you could find anything that even fits the other end of this thing,” Gary said as he opened the top of a crate.
Gadget was catching on to the game, and her irritation became evident. “It’s a gimbal for aircraft radar, and I know you recognize that. It’s got a bunch of electric motors, bearings and small hardware I could use.”
“How about this?” Gordon called again, holding a large, flat pizza-type box over his head.
“That is a G.I. toilet seat!” Gadget hollered back. “And you two are being a big enough butts to fit on it!”
“What about this?” Gary yelled. Gadget whirled on him, about to demonstrate the effectiveness of mouse teeth for renovating squirrel tails, when she stopped short.
“That... That’s perfect!” she said delightedly. Gary was pointing to a long triangular metal trusswork, once intended for antenna towers. “Can you get me about six feet of it?”
“I think there’s a piece that short,” Gary said. “But what for?”
“For the submarine,” she said, excitedly. “That’s going to be our keel. We can use some of that pipe behind you for shipways and start building!”
“What else are you going to need?” Gordon asked, turning serious.
“Air tanks, water tanks for ballast, waterproof electric motors and batteries, some really good valves, lights and housings. A couple of pairs of those pliers for remote hands. Wire, steel rods, hoses, tubing, some rubber gaskets...”
“Hey, Gadget!” Gordon stood on top of a stack of boxes. “I found some ball-shaped air tanks about as tall as I am. Can you use them?”
“Ohhh! Let me see!” she shouted, climbing the stack. “Great! I won’t even need to clean them up. You just solved our life support problem. I can use one of those propane tank regulators over there to control the air pressure.”
“Gadget,” Gary called from across the aisle. “There’s a big plastic something-or-other here you might want to see.”
She scampered across on all fours in her eagerness and leaped into the box alongside him. “Oooo! Oh, oh, oh! This is great!” She ripped the brown barrier paper wrapper off the object, revealing a clear plastic half-sphere about 14 inches across. “An aircraft observation blister. I think it’s from a B-29 and it’s in perfect condition! Find me another one of these. I’ll glue ‘em together and we’ll have the crew bubble for a submersible that would make Captain Nemo drool.”
The foraging progressed at a rapid pace. Large components and trailer loads of small parts were towed by the ATV to the beach, where Gadget began to assemble the submersible. She modified her requirements on the fly, making her design fit the components available and finding ways to adapt the things they found. There was no time for precise measurements. She would grab a part, stare at the sub intently for a few seconds as she placed the part on her mental blueprint, then begin to install the bit with confidence.
She worked with amazing speed and the vessel began to take on definite form. The triangular trusswork that formed the keel supported the many parts that made up the submersible. Inside the open lattice of the keel Gadget placed the batteries, which would double as ballast. At the fore was a bracket to receive the yet-unfinished crew bubble. Already attached to the framework were remote controlled hands made from pointed-nose pliers. For propulsion Gadget installed four gimbled electric motors with propellers made from electronic cooling fans. Lights she made from waterproof Jeep turn signals. Along the length of the keel she used a series of spherical pressure tanks from various aircraft for breathing air, ballast and trim tanks and high pressure air to blow the ballast tanks when it was time to surface. The different colored spherical tanks gave the vessel the appearance of a bundle of a child’s balloons that had come to rest on the beach. When she ran low on parts, she returned to the supply yard and made sure the Scruffies kept up the search for alternatives.
Gary met up with her as she returned from their makeshift shipyard. She was so intent on the job that she almost collided with him.
“I just took a good look at the sub,” he said. “You really are a genius. I always thought that was an academic title, but you actually bring it to life.”
“Don’t sweet talk me now,” she said, not really listening. “I’m busy.”
“I’m not sweet talking. I mean it. You’re putting this thing together like it was a prefabricated kit and you don’t even have a schematic, let alone blueprints.”
“I can’t use blueprints when I’m working with foraged parts. I have to make adjustments depending on what we find.”
“Those transparent aircraft blisters are going to work for a crew bubble. It looks about ready, except for a hatch,” He indicated the large glassy sphere where Gadget had installed the crew seats and controls before gluing the two halves together. “The epoxy around the seam has cured, but did you really intend to put a screen door on it?”
“That’s not a screen door! I drilled one big hole through the plexiglass and put in the front plate from a meat grinder.” She indicated a disk of steel full of holes. “That way I can run all the connections through without drilling dozens of holes. I’ll just epoxy shut any openings I don’t use. I’ve got quick disconnects for the electrical circuits in case something shorts out, and self-closing valves on the air lines in case something breaks or leaks. Those pliers we found made decent Waldoes to handle anything outside the sub, but we’re going to be on our own. We don’t have time or room to build communications with the surface or much else.”
“It’s too bad we don’t have time to add a remote parasite sub of some sort,” Gary muttered. “Something we can run parallel to us so we can stay clear of...”
“Don’t you dare start with that!” Gadget snarled. Gary turned to find her glaring at him, her face twisted with anger.
“Start what? What’d I...”
“I am not a parasite!” she shouted, closing in on him. “I do not owe my survival to living off the efforts of other creatures!”
Gary recognized the argument. Was the rodent society a parallel of human culture, or a parasite upon it? It was as old as all of animal civilization, and he realized he had inadvertently touched a raw nerve in his friend. He stepped back under her advance and held his tongue, letting her vent her tangle of emotions on him.
“I don’t have to have parts made by humans!” Gadget raged. “Do you think I can’t produce my own parts? That I can’t machine steel and aluminum? That I can’t mold plastic or crack petroleum fractions? All this is a convenience, you hear me! Humans don’t even want this stuff! That’s why they left it here! If I can do some good with it or have some fun with it or even save lives with it does that make me a parasite!? Rodents aren’t dependent on humanity! We have our own technology, our own view of science! We do things even humans can’t do! Lord knows, we have a better grip on our morals than they do! We don’t kill and eat our own kind! We don’t make war! We’re more civilized than they are! How can you think we’re parasites!?”
“I didn’t say we were,” Gary answered gently, but she didn’t seem to hear him. She turned away, staring blankly into space, and sat on the edge of a rusted cogwheel. She spoke as if she were talking to herself.
“What if they’re right? If I had to mine my raw materiels, I’d never have time to invent. I’d never get this submersible built. If I couldn’t salvage the components, I’d never get anything done. I don’t know how I’d even live without human civilization. Squirrels and chipmunks could always go back to living in the trees, but what about Monty and me and the other mice? Most of us live on cheese, and we can’t care for dairy cows or even milk them. How could we ever make our own cheese?” She sagged down, resting her head in her hands.
“Maybe the Thorn Valley rats are right,” she continued. “They won’t touch so much as a toothpick humans made. They consider taking anything from humans to be stealing. Have you ever seen Thorn Valley?” Gary shook his head. “I have. We were up there once on a case. It’s wonderful what they’re doing. They’re building a real rodent civilization, not a copy of human culture. I can’t do anything like that. Maybe they are right. Maybe I’m nothing but a big-eared leech.”
“Now, you stop that,” Gary said sharply. He kneeled beside her and took her hands in his, making her face him. “I’m not going to hear that kind of talk about you, not even from you. We all live in a world built by giants. Most humans aren’t even aware of how closely small animals live among them. We all take advantage of their cast-offs. In some sense, everything that lives survives on other forms of life. I don’t know about the rest of us, but you’re not a parasite, Gadget. You’re a symbiot.”
“Now you’re making sweet talk again,” she chided sadly. “You’re just playing with words. A symbiot is in a relationship of mutual benefit. How does the human race benefit from me?”
“Well, let’s see - You busted Aldrin Clordane, Bela Nogudnik, and Ratso Ratskiwatski. They weren’t direct threats to animals. And you stopped Prof. Nimnul how many times? For which service you ask a bit of cheese and a chance to sift through the scrap pile. I’d say the human race got, by far, the greater benefit of the deal.”
“Do you really think that?”
“Of course. You and the Rescue Rangers have done more to help and safeguard humans than most humans. Anything you take from human society you’ve earned. Probably a lot more.”
She looked away from him, suddenly feeling ashamed. “You’re trying to protect me again, even from my own self-doubt. I said you didn’t have to do that.”
“Protecting is sorta my job. And I’m a bit of a busybody.”
“I wasn’t very nice to you, blowing up like that,” Gadget said. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay,” Gary said. “I don’t blame you for getting upset. I had it coming. We did give you the business with all that ‘how about this’ nonsense.” His right hand disappeared behind his back for a moment. “By the way, how about this? What do you suppose you could do with this?”
She was startled when he held up a tiny, delicate, orchid. The beauty of the flower and its wonderful scent flooded her head and made her forget all her concerns for a moment. Then she composed herself and took the blossom.
“I can think of a use for it,” she said. She carefully threaded it into her hair over her left ear.
“Well, you were right again. You made it into a beautiful flower.”
“Thank you, Harvey,” she smiled. “I thought you were taller. And invisible.”
“I’m only visible to those who are very pure of heart,” he smiled.
Gordon walked up from the scrap yard with a large piece of shining steel balanced on his head. “Hi, guys! Look what I found. It’s a bulldozer engine freeze plug. I measured it and it’ll fit the crew hatch like it was machined for it. Is the bubble ready to go?”
“Its ready,” Gadget answered, “but I think I should have put it together down by the sub. If we tow it down with the ATV, it’ll get all scratched up.”
“I’ve got an idea,” Gary said. He climbed inside the sphere, aimed for the beach and began jogging, rolling the sphere like an oversized hamster ball. Gadget giggled at the sight as Gary did loops inside the sphere. But as he moved away, her expression became lined with concern. She walked over to Gordon as Gary vanished from view.
“I have to talk to you,” she said. “Last night, Gary was talking about making a dive on the container, alone.”
“We discussed it after you went to sleep,” Gordon confided. “While we were scouting for you we found some cans of fiberglass resin by the vehicle maintenance building. If we can’t get anything else to work, he’ll wait ‘till the last minute, then go down to the container and to try to seal it off.”
“He’d have to practically stand on top of it to seal it using scuba gear, Gordo! He’d be overexposed!”
“He knows.”
“You can’t let him do that! I won’t let him do that!”
“Gadget, he understands the situation. He’s responsible for the success of the mission. If it comes to it, it will only take one of us to do the job, and Gary will do it.”
“Are you both crazy!? He was right about how hot that stuff is! There can’t be a worse death than radiation poisoning!”
“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t try to beat him to it. If you went down there and got hurt, he’d end up dead inside. He’s responsible for us, too. Knowing what it would do to him, I wouldn’t stop him if I could. He’s right about my not being able to dive. With this ear infection, I wouldn’t get down two feet. And you... Well, we borrowed you. If we don’t get you home safe, we’ll lose our deposit.”
“Don’t make jokes about this!” she said with great distress. “This is his life we’re talking about!”
“Do you really want him to stand by and let someone else go in his place? Would you want to see what that would do to him?”
Gadget balled her fists in frustration. She knew he was right. She knew there was only one way to keep Gary from the fatal dive.
“Gordo,” she pleaded. “Don’t give up. Help me finish this sub. It’ll take two to operate it, and one of them is going to be me.”
“We’ll get it done. After all, we have a genius on the job.”
Gary strolled back juggling three small hex nuts. Gadget sighed deeply.
“I know,” she said. “I haven’t been practicing my juggling.”
“What we’ve got planned you can’t practice,” he responded. “You’ll just have to hit it right the first time, like our sub. She looks almost ready. I just don’t know what we can use to cork that container with.”
Gadget looked gloomily around the piles of military leftovers. She kicked a bit of scrap aluminum and toyed with a glass rod that protruded from a cardboard box. Slowly, she brightened as an idea took hold.
“Gary,” she said, “have you ever seen the glass sculptor at Disneyland?”
“Yes,” he said, seeing her intention. “But she doesn’t work 180 feet under water.”
“There’s some optical grade glass rods back there. If we melt the glass and let it flow down until it fills the container, will that cap it well enough?”
“If we can maintain ten feet of water between us and the can, yes. Radioactivity won’t affect glass, and it will harden into the threads at the top and seal the opening permanently. But will it stay molten long enough to drop ten feet through water?”
“If I can get it hot enough, it will. Are you sure it won’t cause a reaction with the materiel?”
“It’s radioactive, but it’s still a metal. It won’t react atomically to ordinary thermal shock. And its melting point is way above glass. How do you plan to melt glass underwater?”
“Oxy-acetylene is plenty hot enough. I’m going to need some welding equipment.”
“I think there’s some at the east edge of the yard,” Gordon said. “It looks like they used to cut up scrap there. There’s a whole forest of acetylene and oxygen tanks down at that end, but they’re probably almost empty. That equipment hasn’t been used for a long time. You may have to repair something that’s deteriorated.”
“That’s my speciality. We could consolidate several tanks into one. I can do it with that old rusty compressor we found. But repressurizing acetylene is dangerous.”
“And we wouldn’t want to do anything dangerous,” Gary said with mock seriousness. “We’re only going to dive on a tub of radioactive materiel in a scratch-built submarine assembled from 60 year old parts that were all made by the lowest bidder.”
“Golly, when you put it that way, I suppose it’s the least dangerous thing we’re going to do. Oh, shoot! How are we ever going to get welding tanks that big out to the dive site?”
“I know!” Gordon chimed in. “There are some big truck inner tubes over yonder. We can rig up a couple with slings and float the tanks out.”
“Do you remember where that compressor was?” Gadget asked.
“Yeah. Southeast, row ‘J’, space 122,” Gary answered. “Let’s get going. We only have about 38 hours to get it done.”
They turned their efforts to the task and the work proceeded without a hitch. Welding gear, tanks, floats and glass rods moved smoothly to the beach. Gadget installed a rack on the underside of the submersible to hold a supply of glass rods within easy reach of the mechanical hands.
When Gadget finally did hit a snag, she found the Two Scruffy Guys had already applied their own brand of ingenuity to it.
“Fellas, we’ve got a problem,” she said as she approached the pair. “I just realized the sub won’t support 200 feet of welding hose. We need to find some floats to keep it buoyant.”
“We saw this coming,” Gary said with a smile. Gadget noticed that he and Gordon were leaning against a large green cardboard box bearing Army Medical Corps insignia, their manner one of phony nonchalance.
Gadget watched in complete bafflement as Gordon pulled a square foil packet out of the box. She saw the impression made in the foil by it’s contents and shrugged. “An O-ring? An O-ring won’t keep anything afloat.”
“Mr. Gordon,” Gary said solemnly, “I told you she wouldn’t recognize it. Demonstrate it for her.”
Gordon tore open the foil, carefully keeping her from seeing the label and removed the contents. Gadget was still completely puzzled by the rubbery thing.
“What? What is...?” she said.
Gordon took the disk of latex and shook it out. ALL the way out. The object was as long as she was tall, vaguely cylindrical and had a dome-shaped end like a sausage casing. Gadget finally made the connection.
“Oh My Gosh!!” she squeaked.
Gordon held the flaccid object up just below his belt. “I don’t think this is gonna fit.”
“Maybe you’re supposed to climb inside,” Gary suggested.
“You guys!” Gadget protested.
“Y’know,” Gordon continued, “some of these might leak.”
“Gordon!” Gadget scolded.
Gary ignored Gadget’s outburst. “I’m surprised at you. There’s a whole generation of humans who owe their existence to these things leaking.”
“Gary!” Gadget cried, “For heaven’s sake!”
Taking a few breaths, Gordon inflated the impudent object. “This one’s fine. Gad-get,” he asked, waggling his eyebrows, “do you want to help me test the others for leaks?”
“STOP IT, both of you!” Gadget insisted. “Good goggly moggly! I shouldn’t even be looking at this!”
Gary smiled broadly. “If you can find something else we can use for floats...”
“There isn’t time,” Gadget said, resigning to her fate. “Just promise you’ll never tell anyone.”
“Gadget!” Gary was aghast, “I’m a gentleman! I’d never tell anyone when I’m with a young lady and use one of these.”
“STOP! STOP! STOP!!!” she yelled.
“C’mon. Gordo,” Gary said, finally letting Gadget off the hook. “Let’s pack these down to the beach.” They teamed up to load the box on the ATV’s trailer.
“I’ve been worrying about the potential for exposure,” Gary said.
“We’re getting out of the sun enough,” Gadget said.
“I mean radiation exposure. We don’t have any way to check the cumulative dose. We can’t drive the sub and watch the Geiger counter at the same time.”
“I’ve got that solved,” Gordon said. “I found a dental X-ray safety kit. The radiation sensitive film is still good, and it even has the developer and comparison charts. I can cut down the film and make a couple of badges for you.”
Gary gave that a moment’s thought. “Gadget, maybe you should stay topside. Gordo and I can...”
“I know what you’re thinking and you can forget it!” she insisted. “Quit trying to protect me from everything! I understand the hazards as well as you do and I accept the risks. Besides, by the time I teach you how to operate my sub, it’ll be too late.”
“Gadget, have you thought this through? It’s not just the possibility of dying here and now. You might want children someday. Females are more susceptible to reproductive harm than males.”
“That’s malarkey and you know it! What do I have to do? Make myself a pair of lead undies just to do my job?”
Gary considered her offer for a long moment. “I think she’d be very cute in lead undies, don’t you?”
“Gray metallic undergarments were always a big turn-on for me,” Gordon leered.
“Stop it, both of you!”
The guys relented and fell silent as they drove to the beach, Gadget sighed and smiled in spite of herself. She had finally identified to that odd feeling these two gave her. While they were sometimes a bit irreverent, they were never crude, and if their humor was a touch adult, they were never obscene. She decided it was just plain nice when your companions treated you like a woman instead of a girl.
Gadget and the Scruffies finished the final work on the submarine’s systems, connecting tanks and hoses, completing electrical circuits and testing the security of the attachment points. There remained only one safety measure to be taken before the vessel went in the water.
“Are you sure about this?” she asked.
“We’d name it the U.S.S. Gadget,” Gary said, “but I think it’s bad luck to name a ship for someone who sails in her. Nautical hubris of some sort.”
Okay. Have it your way.” She reared back with an antique bottle of officer’s club beer and swung it on a string toward the frame. “I christen thee: S.S. Scruffy Bubbles!” The bottle burst spectacularly. Gordon gave the vessel a shove and it slid into the water, bobbing handsomely.
“Well, it floats,” Gary observed.
“That’s the easy part.” Gadget tied off the line securing the sub to the shore. “Submerging is easy, too. It’s getting back to the surface that’s always the tricky part. By the way, what’s the S.S. stand for?”
Gordon grinned. “Submerging Scrap,”
“That’s not very flattering.” Gadget said pointedly.
“It’s accurate, though.”
They boarded the inflatable motorboat and towed the Scruffy Bubbles out to diving raft, saving the sub’s batteries. Nearby, the welding tanks bobbed gently in their inner tube floats, and a line of nearly obscene latex floats held the welding hoses afloat. Gadget rolled her eyes at the sight and hoped this part of the story would remain forever untold. They tied it up to the raft and stopped to consider their next course of action.
“How’s the weather look?” Gary asked.
Gadget consulted the barometer she had salvaged. “The pressure’s starting to fall. The typhoon’s going to be close even if it misses. Should we try to do the job now?”
“I don’t like that,” Gordon blew out his cheeks. “If it gets dark and something goes wrong, it’ll be ten times harder to get you two out of the water. Morning is soon enough.”
“I agree. Is that okay, Gadget?” Gary asked.
“I suppose it makes good sense,” she said reluctantly. “I just wish we could get down and do it now.” She stood motionless a moment with a pained expression. “Okay, I know that sounds awful. Go ahead and give me the punch line.”
“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Gary said softly.
Gordon agreed. “Me neither.”
“Now don’t you two lose your sense of humor,” Gadget said, concerned. “We’re going to need to keep in good spirits if we’re going to pull this off. This is no time to turn grim.”
“You know,” Gordon said, “you’re right.” With that, he straight-armed his unsuspecting partner off the raft. Gary yowled and hit the water with the grace of a bucket of buckshot. Then Gordon grabbed Gadget and hoisted the wriggling mouse up bodily.
“Gordon!” she shrieked, “what are you doing!?”
“I’m reminding you two we’re on vacation!” He pitched her head over heels into the warm water of the lagoon. “Go swimming! I’ll finish the check-out of the sub!”
Gadget surfaced and spit a stream of sea water. She glared at Gary as he bobbed beside her. “He’s your partner! This is your fault!”
“Gad-get!” he shouted in mock anger. “Cool off!” He grabbed her head and ducked her under the water, then laughed and swam away as fast as he could from the spluttering mouse.
“You sneaky saboteur squirrel! I’ll get you for that!” She took off in pursuit like a homing torpedo. Her arms spun over her head and through the water like a paddlewheel and she rapidly ate up his head start. As she closed, she guessed he would turn to defend himself and at the moment he did, she ducked under the surface. She went deep, got under him and approached as he twisted in the water, trying to spot her. With a toothy smile fit for a great white shark, she grabbed him by the waist and pulled with all her might. She burst through to the surface, using Gary as a counterweight and dunking him under. Her reward was a shocked squawk from him as he submerged.
She bobbed alone on the surface. “Ha! That for you, buster! Next time stick to the trees!” She floated, kicking gently, waiting for him to surface. She turned a full circle, the water grew still and no bubbles appeared. Suddenly, she was seized by a horrible thought. If I really surprised him, he might have sucked in a lung full of water! She had a momentary vision of Gary slowly, peacefully, sinking to bottom of the lagoon.
“Omigosh! What have I done!?”
It was what she did next that thoroughly surprised her. She shot out of the water vertically and did a lazy end-over-end tumble as she descended. Gary had built up speed underwater, skimming his patagium to propel himself like a manta ray, coming up under Gadget to launch her like a cork from a bottle. She splashed down tushie-first in an impressive cloud of sea spray.
“Ha, yourself, mousie!” Gary laughed as Gadget came up and dragged her hair out of her face. “No one expects the Spanish Immersion!”
“That’s Inquisition,” Gadget laughed.
“The Inquisition was a much drier affair,” he chuckled. “Call it even?”
“Okay, even. Race you back to the beach?”
“You’ll win. You’re too fast.”
“My Dad told me to never race to win. Race to do your best, and you’ll win.”
Gary chuckled. “You’re on,” And, by a whisker, win he did. They walked up the beach to the edge of the dry sand and flopped down, letting the warm air dry their fur.
“I thought for a second out there you’d decided to satisfy your curiosity,” Gary said.
“About what?”
“About why male squirrels wear pants.”
“I didn’t touch your swim trunks!” she protested. “I don’t want to know that bad.”
“Scientists are always curious. What do you want to know?”
“If I can juggle nine in the air,” she said. “If my sub is going to get the job done.” She rolled over and faced him, looking him in the eye. “If we’re all going to go home.”
“Telling fortunes and futures carries it’s own set of risks,” he said, smiling. “It’s unexplored territory. Safer to go see the future than to guess at the truth.”
Gadget looked inland and saw a group of the ‘Iloe, grimly watching them. She suddenly, she felt guilty for having fun when the islander’s homes were at stake, and she realized Gary must feel the same way.
“You’re going to try something crazy if the sub doesn’t do the job, aren’t you?”
“Not crazy. Only what has to be done.”
“Tell me it’s all going to be okay,” she said desperately. “Lie to me.”
“No. I’m not going to lie to you. Not ever.”
“That’s a promise a girl hears a lot,” she said dejectedly, her face turned away. “An easy promise.”
“No, it’s not. It’s not an easy promise to make and it’s a lot harder to keep. But I will not lie to you, Gadget Hackwrench. I want you to believe me when I tell you something. Even if it hurts me, or you, I won’t lie to you. Promise.”
His simple sincerity startled her. She knew these were not empty words, but a glimpse of his heart.
“Then... that’s an awfully big promise.”
“It’s got a big job to do. I want to keep your trust in spite of all our secrecy and shenanigans, and I’ll keep my word. I don’t know if we’re all going home, Gadget, but I know you are.”
“You’re doing it again,” she said sharply. “Don’t protect me. I’m here to do the job just like you two. We’re a team, aren’t we?”
“Yes, we are,” he conceded.
“Then let me play,” she said. “Tomorrow, let me help carry the ball.”
* * *