Gadget glanced over the instrument panel of the newly christened ‘Screaming Eagle II’ and saw that it was good. Her view of the ‘Hangar B 25’ as Dale had named her old home, and the wheeled two litre cola bottle that now did duty as a fuel tanker, was unobstructed. This was unsurprising, because the entire front quarter of the aircraft above the level of the deck was transparent, except where the nose cone rose above the deck level and cut off a central half circle to about a third of the deck height. This was were the twin OLED displays, removed from a defunct mobile phone, were mounted.

"Everything looks okay here guys." her voice came over the outside speaker. "Ready for boarding."

From the outside, the Screaming Eagle II had the general appearance of a medium haul passenger jet crossed with an X-Wing space fighter, thought the V shaped tail-plane belonged to neither. The fuselage had started as three super wide ‘gallon’ Coo Coo cola bottles, the same height as a regular two litre thermoplastic bottle, but half again the diameter. They had been cut down to cylinders and bonded together to form the basis of a monocoque hull, with top ends left on to form a nose cone, and a tapering stern.

Lined with epoxy bonded aluminium sheet from soda cans on the non-transparent sections, and reinforced with an extra layer of bottle material, the fuselage was almost 3 feet long. Mid way along were two more cola bottle top sections, fused on and mounted crosswise to form wing roots. The engines and wings were mounted on them, the wings able to sweep back and even change pitch for attitude control. Each pair of engines were mounted on their own bearing, one above and one below the wing root. This meant the pair was able to rotate around the wing root for horizontal, vertical, or even reverse thrust (with air deflectors open).

The spout at the front was still functioning, but now as a fuel intake. Foxglove had just finished screwing on the cap as Dale hauled away the hose connected to the tanker. A few drops of JP5 dripped from it, and the external microphone caught Foxglove admonishing Dale. "Cutie, be careful!"

Dale slotted the hose into place next to the fish tank pump that supplied it. "Aww Foxy, I’ll be good, no fuelling around."

Gadget shook her head, switched off the external microphone, pressed a button, and a nose section, moulded from a detergent bottle, hinged up over it to form an aerodynamic wedge over the bottle cap. A telltale on her panel went out as Dale and Foxglove came pelting up the steps. The bat stopped at the back of the passenger cabin, "Oh my, I still can’t get over how nice it all looks."

"It sure is, Foxy!" said Dale. "I gotta hand it to you Gadget, you sure can make ‘em." Although they’d seen most of it before, this was their first time inside the completed passenger cabin. For someone accustomed to the previous Ranger vehicles, it was certainly more luxurious. The passenger cabin took up the front third of the craft. A deck had been put in, cutting off the lower two fifths of the bottle’s curve. Under it were electronics, batteries and fuel tanks. At the nose were twin pilots positions, based on the Rangerwing, and back of them four cushioned double seats arranged in pairs along a central aisle.

The seats were covered in crushed felt, with plenty of leg room, and seatbelts. Behind the last pair of seats, steps were recessed into the deck on each side, continuing down a section of hull that had folded out. Right at the back were two closed off, opaqued compartments, a washroom and a head. The floor and seats were upholstered in dark velvet, and shielded white LEDs, mounted on seat backs, acted as reading lights while small green ones marked out the central aisle.

Dale and Foxy plumped down together on one of the wide seats and snuggled. Foxy made sure Dale’s seatbelt was on, and then did hers as the red nosed chipmunk called out, "Okay, Gadget, we’re in! Chocks away… or whatever!"

"In a minute, Dale!" Gadget called back. She flipped one phone screen to a schematic of the aircraft. Behind the passenger cabin, accessible by an improved version of her sardine tin airlock, was the engineering compartment. Here were the fuel pumps (salvaged fish tank pumps), wing motion actuators (various toy electric motors) and compressor (a computer chip cooling module) were. Flexible pipes and wiring lead out through the holes in the centre of the wing roots to the wings and engines. Everything seemed to be working fine. She flipped a switch to close the passenger door, and checked the cargo bay door telltale. That massive space, taking up the rear half of the plane, had a winch that could be run out for loading, and more fuel tanks under it’s deck. Right now it was empty and the fold up cargo door at the back was sealed.

She checked back on her passengers, who seemed eager for her to start. The choice of passengers was not accidental. If some unforeseen accident did occur, the three on the Screaming Eagle could bail out, Gadget with her parachute, and Dale with his replacement glider. The one he’d used in the assault on ‘Hangar B-25’ had had an unfortunate accident involving a reversing Gyrotank after Dale had left it to save Foxglove.

The new one used some space age materials they’d salvaged from the Space base junkyard. The struts were made of left over electro-mimetic actuator material and the fabric was ultra-strong and light. It folded into a compact mass that made a slim backpack for Dale, but could unfold at the touch of a contact to form a sweeping pair of batwings, controlled by bodyweight and double paw-grips. Gadget had put it together while taking a rest from the main design problems, of which there had been plenty.

Now she adjusted her headset, made from the disposable button earphones handed out on human airlines. "Screaming Eagle II, ready for takeoff!"

"Roger.", She heard Chip reply. "Be careful, Gadget!", he added unnecessarily, then "Over." He’d read up on proper radio procedure after the Donutters incident.

"Golly Chip, of course I will. This has to be the most thoroughly tested, safest invention I ever made. Over."

"Understood. We’ll follow you and record. Over." He, Monty and Zipper were already in the rebuilt Rangerwing X (for experimental). This had acted as a test bed for many of the systems in the Screaming Eagle II, primarily the new engines. Gadget’s genius had developed a hybrid turbofan of incredible simplicity and fuel efficiency, including an exhaust section formed out of a layer of thermoelectric material, courtesy of a decommissioned space probe. As she always said, it was amazing what you could find in people’s garbage. This generated electricity from the temperature difference of the waste heat of the exhaust, and the airflow past the exterior of the engines. Most of the internal parts were made from machined sections of titanium cookware, and computer cooling fans, but the outside shell was a Coo Coo Cola soda can (painted over, of course).

"Starting up. Out." She flipped more switches and the mobile phone displays changed, showing a rear view and core flight data, especially the engine status. A GPS readout also appeared. Finding a working PDA (needing only a new screen) and the matchbox sized GPS module that had been designed to work with it was one of the luckiest finds of their scrap yard challenge. Stripped of useless casing, and reprogrammed, it formed the basis of the Screaming Eagle’s avionics.

Building the new craft had been the hardest five weeks of work the Rescue Rangers had ever done. Gadget’s designs were generally inspired by the materials available, and adapted to fit them, but with this project she had turned things around. Even while the clean-up of the Ratz occupation had been going on, she had been working on the plans for the new Screaming Eagle, more aptly named than it’s predecessor, because it was based around her jet engine design.

<cue the montage, with a the Rescue Ranger theme playing in march time in the background, a la A Team, or McGuyver>

The first couple of weeks involved a scavenger hunt of massive proportions as the Rangerplane and Rangermobile went all over the state. They hunted through the airport, army surplus mothballing heaps, the Coo Coo Cola warehouse, and Stanislavsky’s electronics graveyard. They even made a long trip down to the Cape to salvage from the Space centre junkyard, towing their finds back on a separate cargo balloon behind the Rangerplane.

During the latter half, the Rangerwing was unavailable for these duties, because it was receiving a major overhaul. The flashlight that made up the nosecone and a considerable part of the power source was stripped out, as was the grappler arm that was stored in a compartment further back. It was replaced by a test type soda can jet engine, and lithium power cells, courtesy of old mobile phones. A ring of super-bright white LEDs from Christmas decorations were mounted in a ring around the air intake, providing almost as much searchlight capability as the old flashlight for far less weight, space and power.

The old motors, with their carefully crafted popsicle propellers were replaced by much more powerful ducted fans in stripped down casings. These were originally power supply cooling fans from a Crayfish 12000 supercomputer. These could alter position like the originals, but since they pivoted along the plane of the fan they could move between full reverse and full forward thrust, or hover without the tricky timing of reversing props. Despite the fact that it’s weight increased by a third, the new Rangerwing was just as manoeuvrable, and could make a top speed of almost 210 miles per hour for about 3 hours on jet, and on the fans a good 120 miles per hour for another hour and 20 minutes.

The Rangerwing’s cockpit also got something of an overhaul. It was extended to three rows of wide double seats, of which the rear four would fold down into the leg spaces to form a flat load bed for cargo. A fold-back bubble canopy, formed from a section of cola bottle, allowed the Rangerwing to make the most of its new-found speed without blowing the occupants away.

While the basic controls were unchanged, OLED mobile phone screens provided flight data and camera views from various points on the fuselage, due to a number of micro cameras from the same phones. A short-wave transceiver was added, along with a sonar altimeter/ground speed detector. It only worked within fifty feet of the ground, but made precision landings far easier. A stack of removable memory cards stored images from the cameras, among other things. After much urging from both Dale and Foxglove, this included music from Foxglove’s collection.

The extra power allowed more sophisticated landing gear to be added. The cigar tube pontoons became the ‘forelegs’ of stork type landing gear, as long proven on the Rangerplane. The ‘ankles’ could deploy plunger harpoons, like the Rangerplane’s, or grappler style hands, controlled from the co-pilots position. Hard points on the tops of the forelegs could mount mission specific add-ons, such as water pistols, gumball launchers, or firework booster rockets. The rear compartment that was freed up now played host to a flare launcher (survival matches with mini-parachutes) and a mechanically triggered triplet of emergency chutes that were big enough to soft land the whole plane in the event of a total power failure.

Since almost all of this was based on existing developments, the work went fairly quickly, The jet engine required the most testing and development, including ground tests. A catering tin was fitted with a sardine can airlock, and inside the first test model run at varying intensities for tens of hours, up to and above it’s design thrust. However it hadn’t been designed for roasting marshmallows, as Dale found out to his chagrin. He went in to the testing bay with a marshmallow on a cocktail stick, and staggered out with a blackened face and holding a charred and smoking stub.

With the systems tested in the Rangerwing X, it was time to apply the knowledge gained to the construction of the new Screaming Eagle. Though Gadget had occasionally built bigger projects in far less time, there was a world of difference between it and the one-shot, minimum function orbiter, or the composite of existing machines that was the Gyrotank. The Screaming Eagle was built from scratch to work first time, reliably, and for the long haul.

With her acting as designer, engineer, skilled workman and systems integrator she needed all the help she could get. While Chip was not an engineer, he managed to understand most of her plans, at least in outline. An excellent organiser, he helped plan their activities, squeezing every last minute out of the weeks they had while keeping people from overwork. During the collection phase it fell to Chip and Monty to do the flying and driving, while Dale, Foxglove and Zipper scouted out parts.

When construction was in full swing everyone did lifting and shifting. Foxglove could move smaller pieces into place where an overhead crane would have been necessary, and Zipper proved most adept at guiding wires and tubing through cable runs. Gadget, with her Construction suit, and Monty with nothing more than his own great strength moved the heaviest parts into place. Chip and Dale were everywhere else, fitting and fixing and painting and gluing.

Now, with over a week to go, it was ready. All the systems had been tested out on the ground, and it’s gliding properties when un-fuelled had been tested with the aid of the launch ramp and a dynamite booster system, but this would be the maiden voyage. The hull had been painted with some formulation of Gadget’s to improve it’s insulation and protect against ultraviolet. The paint for the opaque parts also had an additive that gave it the same warm orange colour as the original. Foxy, at the last minute contributed some decals she’d run up during a couple of sleepless nights at the City University Media Studies lab. Rather than the Rescue Ranger logo, the wings and tail showed a stylised eagle, wings raised as it gave a hunting cry, and carrying a crossed hacksaw and wrench in it’s claws.

<End montage and BGM>

Gadget checked the instruments one more time, set the engines to vertical thrust, and ramped up the power. Outside, the engines rotated around to vertical, and a low whine built up as computer fans drew air in, and the air beneath the exhausts started to shimmer with heat. Slowly, the meter long vessel rose up into the air on four pillars of flame, wings extended for maximum lift when she changed mode.

The wings looked like they’d come off a wind turbine, each a tapered narrow blade two thirds the length of the fuselage. Moulded from thermoplastics, using a modified industrial width toaster junked from the airport kitchens, they were optimally designed for the Screaming Eagle, rather than being the constructs of wood and fabric that her previous aircraft had. They also owed considerable ancestry to the Rangerplane, being able to swing back until almost flush with the hull, and tilt independently or in concert to act as control surfaces. Sections could extend from the trailing edges, increasing the chord (front to back width) of the wings and acting as flaps or spoilers as the need arose. Combined with the control surfaces on the V tail fins, and you had a craft that could turn on a dime and give change, for all it’s large relative size.

The ground and the bomber dropped away with a muted rumble, mostly because Gadget had the foresight to rig the cabin with noise cancelling speakers made from earphones, which could act as a cabin PA at need. However they didn’t stop Dale’s ‘Yahooo!’, or Foxglove’s squeak of surprise.

Monty’s voice came over the radio. "Strike me starkers, Gadget-luv, the Eagle took off smooth as a wallaby’s washboard."

Gadget was familiar with most of Monty’s expressions, but this was a new one. "Huh? How smooth is that?" she asked as she reduced the thrust to hover.

She could almost hear the big Australian mouse grin in the co-pilot’s seat on the Rangerwing X. "Very smooth indeed lass, after all yer average wallaby doesn’t wear many clothes."

"Hmmm… I dunno, it could be smooth from constant usage, which would imply a wallaby has a lot of clothes, or gets through them quickly. Making the mode change to horizontal flight. Over." She thought she heard an Australian sigh over the headset.

She glanced at the rear view screen and saw the Rangerwing had lifted on it’s fans and was above and behind her. Chip’s voice replied. "Roger, we’re with you all the way. Over."

The landing gear was retracting into the conformal gear pods, each a hemi-section of a half litre plastic soda bottle that had gotten the Gadget treatment. Bonded directly to the fuselage, when sealed they would act as pontoons, however they could at need split open and deploy landing legs as versatile as the improved Rangerwing’s. While there were no grappler claws, the stork-like gear had the same bulging forelegs. The ‘ankles’ could deploy plunger harpoons, or magnetic clamps based on the magno-ray, while the forearms could extrude skis, or powered caterpillar tracks, even ice anchors. There would be no repeat of a Glacier Bay type crash.

Considering the same control mechanisms used in the Rangerwing had simply been modified for the new engine layout, it was unsurprising but pleasing that the change from hover to forward flight went off without a hitch. The Eagle accelerated forwards until it was moving at a leisurely 45 miles an hour, according to the sonar ground speed indicator. Gadget pulled back on the stick (well the bottle cap, but it was the same thing) and gained height, enjoying the feel of the new aircraft. When the sonar altimeter went out of range, the barometric one took over without a hitch, and so did the GPS derived ground speed readout.

When she’d reached 1000 feet, she called over the radio. "Alright, I’m going to open her up and see what she’ll do!" She rammed the thrust levers right up to their stops, and the plane shot forward, airspeed meter climbing. As it passed above 120 mph an alarm light went on, telling her to swing back the wings, as it was supposed to. She quickly complied. The rear view screen still showed the Rangerwing, dogging her tail about 50 yards back. A press on a button and the digital zoom kicked in. Suddenly she could see Chip and Monty clearly through the transparent canopy, even a hovering mote that must be Zipper.

The airspeed indicator had peaked at 254 miles per hour, equivalent to over 3000 miles per hour (around Mach 4) if it were a human aircraft. The Rangerwing was dropping back rapidly, it’s single jet and heavier body unable to keep pace with the lightly loaded transport. Even at 1000 feet, the ground was moving rapidly. It looked a lot closer, because she just wasn’t used to these speeds. Her flight path had taken her back towards the city, almost over their park. She’d just chosen that direction because it avoided any human flight paths. Her design gave theoretical figures of a top speed of 240 mph, and a flight time on full tanks of 6 hours, 9 if she outfitted the cargo bay with an auxiliary 1.5 litre soda bottle tank. So far it was exceeding her expectations.

She eased back a bit, to let Chip and the others catch up, and started dancing. She’d never really learned how to do it on her own hind paws, but doing it an aeroplane was an excellent way to test it out. She dived, and barrel rolled, loop de looped and made Immelmann turns, finding the best combinations of jet power and wing position. Any human aircraft designer would have said a transport aircraft should not be able to do acrobatics, but then they couldn’t even get the full potential energy out of hydrocarbon fuels, so what did they know?

So Gadget dipped and soared and generally bent the rules of physics into interesting shapes in the sky. If engineering was her religion, then this was a sacrament, and one she truly enjoyed, the pushing of a test vehicle to so near the edge of the envelope you could taste the gumming. She’d never told anyone this, but the flight to Glacier bay had been her first ‘solo’ flight, even with Monty in the co-pilot’s seat. However a couple of years of flying home-built aircraft in the toughest conditions had refined and tempered raw talent until she really was as good as she’d pretended to be back then.

She still remembered how depressed she’d been after that first flight, ruining her dad’s plane in the process of almost getting them all killed. Come to think of it, Chip had been the one to turn her around, saying they needed an inventor, not a flyer. That might also have been the first time she’d seen something special about him. She smiled at the thought. ‘You wanted an inventor, not a pilot, and thanks to your encouragement you got both. Most efficient.’ Her communion with her memories was interrupted by the radio, the voice of the chipmunk in question.

"Rangerwing calling. Sorry, Gadget, we just couldn’t keep up. We backed off and got some long distance footage, but now we’re over the City Natural History Museum, on the edge of the park, and there seems to be a lot of police activity. We’re going to have to land and check it out. Over."

"Oh, you don’t need to do that, Chip. Press the button marked ‘PB’, and you’ll be able to receive the police band. You can even select separate functions on your and Monty’s headsets, using panel 2a. After all the Rangerwing will be used for Ranger work. Over."

"That’s great Gadget, but why didn’t you tell me? Over."

"It was going to be a surprise. Over."

"That it is, and a very nice one. We’ll call back as soon as we have something. Out."

Gadget turned her plane’s nose away from the open skies, and back towards the park.

Dale’s voice came from the back. "Hey Gadget, is something wrong? You were doin’ some great acrobatics, better n’ any roller coaster!" There was enthusiastic agreement from Foxglove. This was another reason they’d been allowed to come, Dale of the cast iron stomach, and Foxglove, to whom negative gees were restful.

Gadget switched on the cabin speakers and cut them over to her headset. "Maybe, Chip thinks there’s something that needs investigating at the museum. I’ll switch you in the on the cabin speakers when he calls back, well actually I’ve already switched in the cabin speakers, otherwise you wouldn’t be hearing me over them… scratch that. You can listen in on the radio over the cabin speakers." She examined that sentence for ambiguities and found none, giving a pleased little nod.

Moments later Chip’s voice was back. "It’s worse than I’d thought. Someone’s stolen the Devil’s Eye. It was on loan from the Smithsonian. I’d thought about setting up a watch, but the police were putting a special detachment on it, and everybody had been working so hard…" Monty’s voice murmured, "Monty’s stayed on the police band, seems a couple of people have spotted a radio controlled car leaving, carrying something. Over."

Gadget pondered as she flew. "Radio control? You might be able to track it. Over."

"We can do that?… Over."

"Golly, yes. It’s only a loop direction finder that was originally so the planes could locate each other, since I couldn’t build a small enough radar, but if you switch the mode to DF and the frequency to 27 MHz, then sweep until you hear a stuttering hum, that’ll be the controller signal. You should be able to circle and home in when the signal is strongest. Then follow that until you find the controller. I’ll home in on you. Over."

"Roger that. Switching to Direction Finder, Out."

Gadget switched over her own radio to Direction Finder, and an arrow popped up on the screen on her side. The circuits weren’t that different from the ones she’d built into the orbiter, to track the space suit, but they were looped round the whole body and aimed by turning the plane. The display was also much more sophisticated. She quickly picked up the Rangerwing’s signature, and headed towards it. It was only moments before she flew up on their starboard side, dropping the jet output to the minimum for station keeping.

The Rangerwing was hovering on it’s fans high over a set of alleyways not too far from the Museum. It was facing away from the sun and into the wind, which gave her a moments thought until she realised that if the opponent was ahead, the engine sounds would be carried away from them by the wind, and they were not likely to look into the sun, or near it. Monty waved through the canopy, and tapped on his headset. Well, that was clear enough. She switched back to normal radio.

"… come in? Gadget-luv, are you listening?"

"Right here, Monty. So we’ve found the culprit? Over."

She heard the big mouse’s snort of disgust. "Too roight! It’s Fat Cat, that crook has the diamond in his scruffy paws… Over."

Chip added his own two cents. "Yeah, he’s directly in front of us, about 40 degrees below horizon. Over."

She dipped the nose, tilting the engines to keep them vertical, and used the forward camera on maximum magnification to enlarge the figures in the nearby alley. It was Fat Cat, alright, and his cronies. They’d set up some stuff, it might be electronics and a comfy chair, converted from some toy pram, under an awning, and there was a radio controlled car with some extra equipment on top, she couldn’t tell what without getting closer. Most importantly, Fat Cat was holding something tightly that glinted in the bright winter sunlight. Since she was hovering she called the others forward to look at the screen.

Over in the Rangerwing, Chip was thinking, toying with his headset. Unlike the two mice, who could use stereo headbands, the positioning of a chipmunk ear meant an over the ear mono-phone headset with a rearward facing speaker was needed. "We’ll go in as a distraction, then Gadget can pluck that diamond. She’s faster, and has a bigger payload. But we need an effective distraction. He’s holding it too close to grab it."

Zipper buzzed on Monty’s shoulder, and the big mouse responded. "Yeah, I’m looking forward to giving that overstuffed crook a roight good seeing to, but all we can do is buzz him, or go in on the ground."

Dale called from the Screaming Eagle, using the co-pilot headset mike. "C’mon we want a shot too! Land us first and Foxy and me’ll get him so mad he won’t even remember he had that ol’ diamond."

Chip chuckled. "He is kind of hot headed where we’re concerned. But do we have the time…? Hot headed, that’s it! Gadget, be ready to dive on my mark. Over."

Her voice replied. "Ready. Over."

"Croikey, Chipper, what’ve ya got planned?"

Chip grinned. "We’re just going to give Fat Cat a _very_ warm reception, that’s all."

&&&

Unaware of the conference going on overhead, the feline felon was indulging in one of his favourite past times, to whit, talking. He had the gem, which was as almost as big as his head tightly between his forepaws. Even so, what sun light reached it reflected back to create polychromatic facets of light within the alley.

"Look at it, my moronic minions! A perfect gem, filled with power for it’s owner."

"It sure is purty." said Mole, squinting, slightly more dazed than usual by the shifting light.

"Yeah, boss. What’re ya goin’ ta do with it? Sell it? Cut it up?" Wart asked eagerly.

Fat Cat turned on the luckless lizard, claws snapping out. "_Cut_ it up? Did I hear you correctly?"

His minion cowered back. "Sorry, boss, I was just thinking…"

"Well don’t! You haven’t got the right equipment for it anyway." This last was delivered in his smuggest tones. "This will stay with me, a tribute to my criminal genius. My plan was even more brilliant than this gem! I knew they would put endless security systems around the display, so I evaded them by putting the carrier vehicle inside the stand!" He acted as if this was a solo job, rather than several nights of nervous work in the Museum workshop by his goons.

"But boss, won’t someone track us?", Mepps asked.

The pontificating pussy preened as he pooh poohed the possibility. "The humans will be their usual bumbling selves, and as for those Ridiculous Rangers, they will find nothing to connect _me_ with this days work. The radio controlled car was taken from a rich brat’s toy cupboard, and replaced with a similar model from the junk heap. The wireless camera and batteries were thrown out after we encouraged them to malfunction, and the robot arm is from a junked Mealo-matic. There were no noticeable thefts in advance to give them clues, and we made very sure that nothing was left inside the podium. This is my greatest criminal achievement, the burning torch I steal from the gods…"

Mole sniffed. "Gee boss, I can even smell it…"

A still lit survival match dropped from the sky on a parachute, landing right on Fat Cat’s carefully combed head fur, followed by another. There was a second of incomprehension, followed by several seconds of panic. As the cat crime boss danced around, trying to extinguish his head, he was no longer holding the diamond close to him, and he dropped it on a convenient crate to free his paw for beating out the flames.

Gadget had been watching for just such an opportunity. She switched to the cameras on the ankles of the landing gear, and targeting reticules had overlaid themselves on the images on the screens. She set the trigger to proximity, and tuned in the forward facing laser range-finder (novelty laser pens had many uses). She carefully manoeuvred to put the reticules right over the gem, and plunged like her aircraft’s namesake, keeping the target in place with microscopic movements of her forepaws on the bottle-cap yoke.

At the set proximity the plungers launched, trailing cables. To the poor goons there was a flashing instant of movement as an orange shape swept in and soared back into the sky, carrying the gem on two rapidly reeling in plungers. Since the jets were going full as the plane fought to climb, the entire area was swept with an exhaust plume. It blew out the flame, but left Fat Cat and all his cronies standing there, with blinking white eyes in blackened faces and hairstyles that were variations on a theme of ‘extreme windswept after staring down a volcano’.

&&&

Kirby and Muldoon were sitting in their patrol car just outside the museum. Detectives were already going over the place with fine tooth combs, and they’d been assigned to help clear out the crowd that had come to the special showing of the ‘world’s largest diamond’.

"I heard someone found a secret compartment in the podium. Looks like they used that toy car to carry the diamond right away." Kirby claimed as he looked out of his open window at the museum.

Muldoon dunked one of his donuts in the carton of cheese chowder from Ma’s. "Sounds like a buncha real professionals. They musta been planning the heist for months."

"Yeah. The chief is goin’ to go nuts about this. Sounds like every cop in the city will be hunting for it."

Muldoon shrugged. "Well what can we do about it? It’s not like the thing is gonna drop into our laps…"

Suddenly something flew in Kirby’s open window, as a shadow and a whistling noise passed over the cars windshield. It bounced off Kirby’s knee and flipped into the carton of cheese chowder, splattering it all over Muldoon. He looked down, and realised he now had the most expensive cheese chowder in history.

Muldoon, after a few seconds of deep though then said, "Uhhh… I could be wrong about that...."

&&&

There was general jubilation in the cockpits of both aircraft. It was open mike and speakers between the two of them. Dale and Foxy were joining in on the other pilot headset.

"That has got to be one of the fastest solved cases in history!" exclaimed Chip.

"Too roight! Didya see the look on Fat Cats face when Gadget toasted his topknot?"

Chip chuckled. "See it? I was recording it! And it’s all thanks to Gadget’s latest and greatest creations."

In the other plane the mouse inventor blushed. "Golly guys, I wouldn’t go that far. However it did turn into a pretty successful test flight."

"You can say that again lass!" "Zyeah!"

Gadget frowned, her usual literal-mindedness taking over. "Why, are you having problems receiving me? I read you five by five."

"No, we’re reading you loud and clear." Chip said lightly.

Dale chuckled. "He won’t have a burning desire to steal anything for some time, I bettcha."

Foxy giggled. "Well at least he had his fifteen seconds of flame."

Chip groaned, as did the others. "Oh, no, now it’s in stereo!" He quipped. "Dale, you’ve corrupted that poor bat. Now we go back, get packed for the trip, and tomorrow we go. Next stop Japan!"

Gadget’s voice was clear over the speakers. "Actually our next stop will most likely be Bangor International Airport, not counting returning to my place today. And we’ll need to ferry stuff from the tree house… and the WAAT isn’t actually being held in Japan proper, but on one of the minor Ryu-kyu islands, not far from Okinawa. So it would be more accurate to say, ‘one of our intermediate stops, Japan’, thought I don’t see why you would."

Chip shook his head, but he was still smiling. "As you say Gadget, as you say."

&&&

Note: To handle linguistic problems, or rather the lack of them, I’m following a convention I set up in one of my other fanfics. Since all animals can understand each other, regardless of language, where they speak some non-English word, the actual word is followed by it’s meaning in square brackets, e.g. Konbanwa [Good evening]

A map of the world, showing their travel with a big red line in true Louisiana James style, would show them travelling steadily east. City Airport to Bangor International, then on to London Heathrow piggybacking on a British Airways passenger jet. After some consideration, Gadget had decided not to trust their planes to the uncertain mercies of the North Atlantic jet-stream. A nights stopover on England’s green and pleasant landing fields, then short flight across London to Gatwick, and a piggyback on a JAL flight carried them across the great continent of Asia, and to a landing at Narita Tokyo.

Once again they rested and refuelled both planes, with the help of some exquisitely courteous Japanese mice who lived at the airport, and then it was on to Okinawa and the Ryu-kyu islands. It was still approaching a sunny mid-day as the Screaming Eagle II, with the Rangerwing X flying in echelon, swept over the coast of the deserted island that was their destination. Dale was on the window side of his double seat, nose plastered against the transparent hull.

"Zowie, a desert island. Maybe we can find some more pirate treasure while we’re here."

Chip’s voice came over the radio. "This is the place? I don’t see any activity. Over"

"Golly Chip, It’s got to be. It matches the co-ordinates and course set in the notes I received. Over."

"Well I hope they said something about where to land, I’ve got more than enough fuel to get back to Okinawa, but we can’t afford more than an hour of scouting. Over." The Rangerwing, with its shorter range, set the limits on their movement.

"The notes said we’d be met… There!" Out in front a swallow, wearing a yellow forage cap, flew up and in front, paralleling their courses but side-slipping in. Even though it was clearly pumping its wings as hard as possible, the planes were rapidly overtaking it.

"Throttle back Monterey, setting wings for low speed manoeuvring." Gadget rapped out, suddenly all business.

"Roight Gadget." The big mouse replied, and as he big manipulated their controls, Chip’s voice was heard from the Rangerwing. "Switching to fans, jet shutting down." He and Monty had been alternating between the co-pilot’s seat on the Eagle, and the upgraded Rangerwing.

The streams of rippling air from the Screaming Eagle’s engines diminished as the wings swung out to their maximum extent and flaps extended from the trailing edges. Meanwhile the Rangerwing’s fan motors, held flat with the surface of it’s wings, rotated perpendicular. They started to spin in the high speed air-stream, and then with more authority as Chip applied power. The jet exhaust from the underside of the Rangerwing ceased, but the slowing of the larger plane allowed it to come alongside and fly wing and wing.

All eyes were now on the bird, which was flying more easily and more closely as the planes slowed down. With it’s claws it pulled a large piece of pasteboard from a satchel slung underneath it. On it was the writing "Follow me" underneath a group of kanji that meant the same thing, according to Foxglove. The pasteboard was rotated so the other side could be seen, "Radio. F.M. 56.2 MHz."

Chip’s voice was puzzled. "Why didn’t they add that in the notes…"

"Maybe they weren’t sure what frequencies they’d have available. Anyway, switching over. Over."

As she reached to turn the tuning knob Gadget heard Chip quipping, "Ladies first. Out."

"This is the Screaming Eagle II, this is the Screaming Eagle II, WAAT registration 1, transmitting on fiver six point two. Please respond."

After a moment, a response came back in Japanese accented mousese. "This is Tomodachi Island tower. Welcome to Toodachi Island. Please follow your guide in a holding pattern and classify aircraft for landing requirements. Over."

"Four engine VTOL jet of three foot length, four foot overall wingspan. Over."

"Confirm, Screaming Eagle? A four engine jet aircraft with VTOL capabilities?" There was a hint of surprise in the carefully calm radio operators voice.

"Confirm Tomodachi tower. Flying escort is the Rangerwing X, a ducted fan tilt-rotor aircraft, also VTOL, and on this channel. Over."

"Tomodachi tower calling Rangerwing X, confirm your presence. Over."

"Right here Tomodachi tower. Rangerwing X also under WAAT registration 1, and awaiting landing instructions. Over."

"Runway is clear, wind from north north-east. Follow guide to runway and make visual approach and landing at pilots discretion. You are assigned bays 162 and 163. We look forward to seeing you both. Tomodachi Island tower, Out."

"Wow, Gadget, you’re already number one!" exclaimed Dale after she’d signed off.

"It’s no big thing. The winner of the Unlimited Air Race automatically gets a free membership in the next Air Trials. So my membership number would almost have to be low."

A firework rose up ahead and to one side. The swallow immediately veered towards it. They passed over the lip of a ridge and laid out below was a sight that made them all gasp. A small wartime airfield, presumably left over from the Pacific war, and now buzzing with activity, but not human activity. The whole place had been rebuilt on a scale designed for much smaller creatures.

It was a single runway built for human propeller driven fighters, and therefore quite adequate to take even the largest small animal vehicle. A marshalling yard and sheet metal hangars and office buildings lay off to the side and at the far end as they came in over the field. In the sky overhead were several weather and promotional balloons, most with large open observation decks underneath. Tupperware boxes fitted out as cable car like elevators trundled up and down their tethers like beads on a wire, and from a few balloons hung large blue banners with the WAAT symbol of a winged spanner emblazoned in yellow.

The marshalling yard had become a giant plaza, with stalls and what looked like a wide stand at one end, supporting a projector screen against the wall of an office. Banners hung from the hangar entrances, proclaiming in several languages their new use as convention halls. A row of aircraft propellers were held high above the base on a radio tower pylon, catching the wind and generating power for the place. One bunkhouse was apparently the roost of those natural fliers who were attending from the way the windows had been rebuilt, and the number of winged creatures flitting in and out.

Finally there was the runway itself, cleaned up and repainted. Along one side of it the paving was divided by white lines, about four feet apart, each numbered in neat Arabic numerals, and in many of them were parked small animal scale aircraft of practically every kind, hundreds in total. Many were rebuilt human toys, and there were a number of dirigible balloons. And everywhere there were animals, a dozen species all mingling without fuss or bother.

Foxglove was the first to speak. "Oh my goodness… I had no idea…"

"You said it Foxy! This place is amaaaazing."

Monty was gazing down at the scene below. "Crikey, this has got to be bigger than any of the others I went to! It looks like every creature that ever flew so much as a paper aeroplane is here."

Gadget was just sitting there, a beatific smile illuminating her face. She was here, and so were her friends, and the plane that was going to win the endurance race, and honour her father’s memory. She brought herself out of her reverie, just as Chip’s voice came over the headset.

"I can see 162, I’m taking the Rangerwing straight down. Over."

She quickly mastered herself. "Roger that, Chip. We’ll come around and land conventionally. We are rather heavily loaded. Over."

She brought the Screaming Eagle round and circled to land into the wind, which fortunately almost in line with the runway. She dropped tractor gear, as they’d have to move about once down. The relatively big, sleek aircraft drew more than one impressed or envious gaze as it made a textbook landing, several of which turned to surprise when the jet engines swivelled through 180 degrees to slow it down. As they came to a halt, the swallow who had led them there dipped down, wagged his wings, and sped off to his next patrol.

Gadget pulled off her helmet. "Well guys, we’re here at last… Now you get to see what all the fuss is about."

<Station break – If you want the full effect, go get a tropical fruit juice.>

Their spaces were about half way along the runway. A fancy looking dirigible, a quarter again longer than the Screaming Eagle, was moored in the next space over, next to a cluster of handkerchief tents. On the other side towered a two litre bottle, north side covered with aluminium foil, and three quarters full of water. Spigots of various sizes stuck out around the base. At the back edge of the parking spaces, vehicles moved back and forth, the most common type being an unmanned buggy covered with a flat topped plastic cover and a low inch wide rim. They appeared at minute intervals, going both ways, and following a painted track. They moved at little better than walking pace, and passengers just stepped up onto the flat rim as it passed, putting anything heavy they were carrying on the centre.

When the rest of the Rangers got out of the Screaming Eagle, they found Chip chatting amiably with a tanuki three times his size, who was wearing a white helmet with a green cross and carrying a clipboard. This worthy introduced himself as Tamaburo, one of the WAAT officials. He was suitably admiring of the two aircraft, but quickly got down to business.

Looking at Gadget he said,. "Konichiwa [Good day]. Am I addressing ‘Gadgeto Hakuwrenchu’?"

Gadget smiled, pleasantly. "That’s me, well sort of."

"I am most pleased to meet you, Hakuwrenchu-san. Your father was a legendary pilot, and I wish you every success in his place."

Saying nice things about her farther was an easy way to get on Gadget’s good side, or considering her natural friendliness, her better side. He quickly took her through formalities of registration, and gave them time tables and entrance forms for the important events.

He finished off with a few warnings. "Forgive me for saying these things, as I’m sure it will not apply to your party. The entire convention is under a truce. Creatures who try to harm another member will be invited to leave. Entering another teams area uninvited is also prohibited. And of course everybody is expected to help keep the place tidy and orderly. After all, we have to make everything vanish after the trials are over. Other than that, feel free to explore and mingle to your hearts content." He made sure there were no questions, then said with a smirk, "Well, I’ve got to fly."

He pulled a leaf inscribed with ornate kanji from under his helmet, laid it on top, and disappeared in a puff of smoke. Out of it came a swift, still wearing the same or a similar white helmet. "See you all soon." it said in Tamaburo’s voice as it darted off. Foxglove was the only one of the team not to show surprise at this, just glee.

Dale was the first to speak. "Wowie Zowie! How’d he do that?" He was echoed by the rest of the Ranger crew.

Foxglove smiled. "Well, according to all the stories, tanuki are shape-shifters, using oak leaves to amplify their transformation powers. I never thought I’d ever actually see it though."

Gadget was shaken. "But… my gosh, the change in mass… it’s not like he had a metamorphasiser or anything. How could you take it so calmly?"

Foxglove giggled. "One, I’ve watched the lots of anime, and two, remember, I did work for a real live witch. Win… _Freddie_," she suddenly emphasised, "… may have been fairly inept, but she could do simple transformations, even without the moon rock."

Dale grimaced. "Ugh… I don’t need reminding of that. Being a frog is no fun. I nearly croaked." That got him a hug from the bat and a groan from everyone else.

Setting up of the camp was quick enough, especially with the Screaming Eagle’s winch, and the trolley made from construction kit pieces that Gadget had packed. Two baseball cap pavilions, one for guys, one for girls, a fireplace and a smaller version of the fuel tanker and pump made from a 1 litre bottle, and a spare fish tank pump. There was also a small wind turbine made from one of the Rangerwing’s old rotors that provided electric power for the camp. Then there were the week’s worth of supplies they’d brought to be stowed, and everything else they’d brought. Having ample cargo space, even with the fuel tanker on board the Eagle, Chip had gone for the ‘better to have it and not need it’ approach to packing.

As they finished up, they noticed an elderly mouse in a lab coat and spectacles, waiting just beyond the boundary between their site and the one containing the dirigible. The lab-coated mouse was looking at the Rangerwing with a speculative air, and gave a slight start when Monty addressed him.

"Don’t stand on ceremony mate! C’mon over."

He came into the Rangers camp, and bowed politely. "Thank you for inviting me. I am Professor Chinou Dai, of the Nekomi Institute of Technology." He indicated behind him. "I am here with a group of my under-the-floor graduates to demonstrate our new dirigible, the Golden Carp."

Chip made the introductions for the Rangers. The professor clearly recognised Gadget’s name, and when Chip had finished asked, "By any chance, are you the Gadget Hackwrench who published ‘Multi-axis variable pitch aerodynamic surfaces in a propulsive flight modes’?"

Gadget nodded, looking slightly puzzled. "Oh, that old thing… Well yes, I figured a couple of people might be interested in using it in ornithopter designs, so I fixed up my notes on the Rangerplane and sent it off to Scientific Rodentia."

"Most impressive work, almost as well received as ‘Torque amplification in permanent magnet motors’. That caused the biggest stir in the engineering community since the left handed framwinkle."

Gadget blushed. "Golly, that idea was simple enough. I never got the following months copy of Mouse Mechanics Monthly, so I never got any feedback. I figured it hadn’t been published."

The professor looked aghast. "But it’s created a whole new generation of small animal aircraft. I suspect three quarters of the vehicles here use some variation of your modifications…"

There was a deep hum over head, as a shadow covered the group. "… like that supply ship."

Looking up, the Rangers saw a blocky shadow move away from the sun, and come in for a vertical landing to the side of one of the hangar buildings. It was based around a navy blue plastic swing-top bin, top facing forward, with an inverted tupperware box as a flying bridge, and twin tail rudders on spars. Two long tapered wings were swung back against the top. On each side a pair of downward facing desk top fans stirred up dust on the asphalt below, as they gently lowered the craft to earth. The WAAT logo stood proudly on each tail-fin. As they watched, the swing top front pivoted open, and a number of model fork lifts, and a couple of toy robots moved in to unload the cargo.

There were several exclamations of amazement from the various Rangers.

Gadget’s eyes were sparkly. "Golly and a half, I had no idea they’d take it that far… but how did they make the wings? They looked like solid units."

The professor answered. "Coated polystyrene. From what I heard, they subcontracted to an Australian group, who cut down and sanded discarded surfboards into shape, then recoated them."

There was a rumbling from Monty, or rather his stomach. He stirred uneasily. "I don’t want to interrupt yer discussion, but we haven’t had lunch yet, and there’s some breadcrumb coated cheese balls back in the supply tent with my name on ‘em."

The professor ducked his head. "I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have detained all of you. But if it is lunch you wanted, we are just getting ready for ours. Feel free to join us." He gave a slight grin. "If it is cheese you’re interested in, we have some excellent cheesecake in our cooler, fresh and nicely chilled."

Monty looked eager. "Now that’s _my_ kinda scientific advance."

&&&

They had a leisurely meal, during which they met the rest of the NIT team, and the pilot, Danshaku Akane, a female mouse who was an under-the-floor graduate learning from Professor Chinou, and test pilot for the NIT team’s inventions. She was also very much in awe of _the_ Gadget Hackwrench. The flight engineer was a Japanese dwarf squirrel, Shippo, who was an otaku and therefore found kindred spirits in both Dale and Foxglove.

As the lunch wound down, the professor invited Gadget, and whoever else wanted to, to see the Golden Carp. Chip and Monty accepted. The dirigible was decorated to look like it’s name sake, with an outer layer of gold coloured silk painted with scales. It also had a dorsal and pectoral fins, a vertical tail fin, and even barbels trailing off which acted as anchor ropes. A one man bubble cockpit poked out of the bottom front, clearly made from an half egg shaped blister pack. There was no gondola or external propeller mounts, and this confused Monty.

"It looks roight pretty, but how does it fly?"

"Very well indeed." Chinou said, smirking, then continued, "I’m sorry, I could not resist. I will show you." He lead them underneath the belly where there was a large open hatch with a comb ladder leading up. The interior seemed to be build like a bouncy castle, mouse-high hollow tubes side by side. Gadget looked up and then brightened.

"Golly, they’re those balloons humans use for balloon animals."

"Yes. They are all connected up to intake valves at the front so we can trim the lift. Not only do they generate lift, but they also form the structure. All that is needed are a few wires for cross bracing. That gives a considerable weight saving." He climbed up and the others followed him.

Inside the lower half was mostly empty space. At the front were two in line seats and controls, and further along were a number of mini soda stream canisters, which the professor told hem contained additional amounts of the complex helium synthesis that filled the balloons. Upon questioning, it seemed it was not too different from the stuff Gadget used for the Rangerplane. Great minds clearly thought alike. At the back was a complicated arrangement that looked like a second cousin to the mechanisms that powered the Rangerplane’s wings.

"This is where we borrowed Hackwrench-san’s ideas. A properly designed fish-like tail fin had a much lower drag and higher efficiency than the best propeller, and the lack of external pods reduces drag further. As you can see the counterweight here balances the tail motion, and stores energy like a bumble bees wing. Since we derive our ultimate power from solar energy, we can stay in the air almost indefinitely.

"We hope to win an Albatross award for completing the course without refuelling, or even landing, other than at the mandatory overnight stops. Since our flat out air speed is around 120 kilometres per hour we could theoretically do the entire course in about 10 hours. How does that compare to your vehicles go?"

Gadget looked slightly hesitant to answer, but her need for precision won through. "The Screaming Eagle can make a maximum of about 400 kilometres per hour, and a 2400 km range, while the Rangerwing does 335 kilometres per hour, in jet mode, and has an operational range of about 1000 kilometres. It can also travel on it’s fans for another 250. However, getting that kind of speed out of a dirigible, it’s very impressive. Both our planes are faster, but they use jet engines, and therefore dependant on fuel sources." She was putting things in their best light. "I’m guessing your power source is a closed cycle Stirling Engine, drawing heat from the upper surface?", she asked.

The professor looked pleased. "I should have known you’d see that, Hackwrench-san, yes, with Freon as a working fluid. The pectoral fins are both control surfaces and radiator panels. Actually I was hoping you might be able to help us. To avoid build-up of vibration, we have sensors in the nose that detect motion, and adjust the weight position accordingly, but under certain conditions it doesn’t work correctly. Since the concept is yours… "

Gadget smiled brightly, happy to help. "I’ll certainly give it my best effort."

This resulted in Chip and Monty going back to their area for tools, and then Chip helping out Gadget while the Monty and the others had a little excursion to the plaza and one of the observation balloons hanging over it.

While the trip was uneventful, something of note happened as they started to make their way back. As they headed for the transport carts, someone rushed around a corner of a hangar, and collided with Monty, who was trailing behind. Since Monterey Jack Colby was a robust individual, the person bounced off and landed on her rump, scattering the stack of card files she had been carrying. She started scrabbling around in the ground, obviously looking for something. She was a female mouse, with dark brown fur, wearing a plain skirt and light blouse. Her head fur was worn long and bound with a ribbon that matched the one on her tail, which waved as she pawed the floor. "Eto [Umm…], glasses, glasses where are they!"

Monty noticed a pair of wire rimmed glasses lying to one side, and scooped them up... "Are these them?"

The girl mouse looked up, squinting, then reached out. "I think so…" She took them and replaced them, then realising her position for the first time, almost leaped upright. "Oh, I’m so sorry! [gomen nasai!] I was hurrying and did not look carefully…"

"No worries! I’ve leapt without lookin’ a time or two meself." Seeing her properly for the first time, Monty bumped up his initial age estimate to late twenties, early thirties. She was pretty, and although she carried an ounce or two more than she really should, it was distributed pleasingly. "Here, let me help you with that paperwork…"

"Oh there’s no…" <Bonk> The two of them had bent after the same piece of paper, and ended up in a meeting of minds… well foreheads anyway. Both moved their heads back slightly as they brought them up, and as a result ended up practically nose to nose. Monty became aware that behind the wire rimmed glasses, which did nothing to conceal them, a pair of amazingly deep, emerald eyes were staring into his…

"Hey, Monty! Who’s your new friend?" Dale’s voice caused the lady to start slightly, and since her position was somewhat unsteady already, with much pin-wheeling of arms she started to topple forwards, to fortunately be caught by Monty’s arms. "Watch out there miss." he said, rather redundantly.

She caught her balance by pushing on his arms, colouring slightly. "Oh my, you’re strong." He got her back on her hind-paws as Dale, Foxglove and Zipper arrived back there. "Zwho’s zzzhe?"

Realising that her paw, warm and furry, was still in his, he was about to snatch it away, but instead let go gently.. "I don’t roightly know Dale-lad, we haven’t been properly introduced, yet."

"oh… Sorry again." The lady mouse bobbed a bow. "I am Kossori Kimiko. Normally I work at the small animal section of Yokohama University library, but my manager was helping arrange things here, and suggested I come and help."

"Pleased ta meet ya, Kumori-san." Monty replied. "Monterey Jack Colby’s me name, and adventure’s me game. These are me pallies Zipper, Dale, and Foxglove." The others said their hellos.

"I am very pleased to meet you all. But please call me Kimiko." She started to pick up the folders, and this time, with more care Monty and the others helped her. As the last of them were stacked in her paws, she looked downwards slightly and said, "I am very sorry I bumped into you, and thank you for your help. I would repay your kindness, if you wanted to join me for a cheddar milk shake, during my next off shift? I would like very much to hear of these adventures of which you speak"

"Well Ko… Kimiko…" Monty wasn’t often uncertain, especially when cheese was involved, but this was one of those times. She was a nice girl, and obviously felt guilty about the whole business, though he should take part of the blame. Though in his time, as he’d once said, ‘his share of romantic entanglements.’, lately he’d not exactly sworn off females as being to unpredictable to deal with, but certainly hadn’t been on the look out the way he once had. Partly because Desiree’s actions had cut deep, but also because he was mindful of not setting a bad example as the nearest thing Gadget had to a parent, and general his avuncular role to all the Rangers.

That didn’t mean he was averse to letting things happen. If he ever did meet a girl who could be more than a short term girl-friend it would have to be someone who was a bit of an adventurer herself, and cope with all his rough edges, of which there were a few. Kimiko didn’t seem that sort, and she was quite a bit younger than him, though not in the ‘young enough to be his daughter’ age bracket. But she looked like she’d be hurt if he said no, and she was quite pretty… Oh well, a cheese shake wouldn’t hurt any. "…alright! I’d be happy to lass."

She smiled brightly and nodded. "The milk bar near the far corner. I get off at 6pm…" She looked up at the big screen, which had a time displayed in one corner. "Oh my, these files are needed urgently! I must go!" She practically scampered off.

Dale grinned and nudged him in the ribs. "You gay dog, you! Looks like all the girls are falling for your… well just falling for you!"

Monty blushed. "Aw… lay off Dale-lad, she was just feeling guilty, and wanted to make it up to me."

"I think it was really sweet!" exclaimed Foxglove, "Just like something out of a shojo manga. Besides, Dale-darling, wasn’t there quite a bit of falling when we first met?"

Dale blushed a bit himself, but then chuckled, "I guess so. C’mon Monty, she was showin’ all the symptoms. Clutzing out, acting all shy, unable to look you in the eyes, I think she was sweet on you."

"Yer dreaming boyo..."

The good natured argument continued all the way back to the site. Just as they arrived, there was a loud roar, and an aircraft came past, slowing down after landing. It looked like someone had taken a dust-buster style vacuum cleaner and added a delta wing and single shark-like tail fin to the handle. This was because that was exactly what someone _had_ done.

The nose had canard wing control surfaces and an undercarriage, and twin cockpits were set one each side of the base of the main body, bubble canopies made from transparent blister packs. A long jet engine was mounted directly below the handle, fusing into the main body at it’s front end. On the tail fin and each wing was an insignia, a stylised gold letter M overlaid on a similar coloured triangle, all on a red background. The M was narrower at the base than the top, and above each point was a small gold dot, giving the effect of a crown.

Monty got a sudden sour look when he saw the logo. "Not that bloke again… well, I guess we should’ve expected him to come sleazing around."

Dale was first to react. "Huh, what’s up? You look like you just ate some bad cheddar."

Monty sat down on a cotton reel stool and frowned. "It’s who’s down on the ground, pally. I’m guessing that plane belongs to a bloke called Reginald Mouseworthy, and there was never a bloke more poorly named. He’s English, claims to be descended from Moustorian nobility, but I figure his ancestors ain’t so fancy. He is wealthy, though I never heard anything good about where he gets his money. He also claims to be a top engineer and ace pilot, and throws all his considerable resources at designing and flying planes. Of course, he’s been in the last two Trials, and always come out second to ol’ Geegaw in the unlimited race. He’s likely got a big score to settle, and since Geegaw ain’t here, it’s Gadget who’ll haveta deal with him."

"Goodness, he doesn’t sound very nice, but maybe he’s changed for the better." Foxglove suggested.

"An’ even if he hasn’t, we’re all here to stop him doing anything rotten." added Dale.

"Too roight. If that bandy legged bozo wants trouble with Gadget he’s going to haveta go through all of us."

As they sat there, Gadget and Chip came back, looking glum.

"Yer saw him then?", asked Monty.

Gadget just nodded, and Chip put down the tool box he carried. "Gadget filled me in on the way over."

"Jeepers, I was having fun too. I fixed the problem with the sensors, it was simply time lag allowing a standing wave to… Well, anyway that idiot zoomed past and the turbulence almost knocked me off the ladder. If Chip hadn’t been there to hold the ladder…"

Chip looked over at her. "I’ll always be there for you."

Gadget looked back and smiled, eliciting a fond look in return. Unfortunately, before the warm and fuzzy levels could really build up, a voice intruded.

"Well what have we here? Why, it’s the brat of that Hackwrench fellow!" A precise English voice spoke. The speaker was a tall, dignified looking mouse wearing a uniform shirt with a billed cap, and carrying a swagger stick. He appeared somewhere between Gadget and Monty in age, and would be quite handsome if he hadn’t been affecting a sneer and a tone of mock surprise. He spat out a wad of well chewed gum, which dropped on the ground just outside their area.

Gadget lost her smile, and Monty did more than that. "Mouseworthy! You pompous gum chewing drongo! Speak careful-loike to Gadget."

The tall mouse grinned. "The cheese ball speaks. That’s Lord Mouseworthy to you. I should of expected you to roll in and defend her, seeing as her father can’t. Did he finally prang that dreadful old crate he insisted on flying?"

Gadget spoke coldly, an occurrence rare enough to merit a headline. "My father never crashed a plane in his life, as you undoubtedly know. And he beat you in the Screaming Eagle twice before."

For a second the mouse’s polished demeanour cracked into a dreadful snarl, but he quickly recomposed himself. "A pity he isn’t here so I could trounce him properly this time. My condolences on his unfortunate demise." The tone of his voice implied that when he said ‘unfortunate’, he really meant, ‘delightful’. Now I remember, I heard you were the one to mangle your father’s precious plane. A wheeled landing on ice, what an _amateur_ mistake."

He dismissed the bulk of the Screaming Eagle II with a off-hand wave. "That must explain that misshapen melange of miscellaneous mechanical mistakes behind you, and this scrofulous lot of sub-species riff-raff hanging around. No real pilot would demean himself by joining up with a fourth rate spark plug tester like yourself."

Monty was balling his fists and unclenching them, and Chip was gritting his teeth. "Trash talk all you want on the ground, because we both know Gadget will kick your tail from here to there in the only place that matters, in the air. I’m guessing that piece of junk that just landed is yours."

"Not that it is any business of yours, chipmunk," and somehow he managed to imply a completely different word, and not a nice one, "but yes, the Cloudbuster is my most brilliant invention yet. She is the fastest small animal aircraft ever. Your own feeble jet engines and lumbering great hull are no match for my perfect streamlining and specially designed turbines."

Unseen by the mouse, Dale had sneaked around behind him and was aping and exaggerating the guy’s every motion, nose in the air and paws fluttering. This did a more to cool the others off than an entire crate of chilled Coo Coo Cola.

Gadget was no longer scowling, and returned. "Golly, you’re one to talk. A single extended turbo-jet with the dustbuster as an intake and compressor, and those fixed delta wings? Oh, I’m sure you can get almost 300 miles per hour out of it, on the straight and level. I actually considered a similar design… for about 3 seconds!" She giggled, mostly because of Dale’s antics. "It looks impressive, I’ll grant you, but it must have the glide ratio and manoeuvrability of a brick, and the fuel consumption must be through the roof! Thirty minutes, with takeoff and landing, unless you used space in the nose cone, which brings it’s own problems. And let’s not talk payload, because you probably don’t have any…"

Mouseworthy cut her off by slapping his cane into his cupped paw, and it was clear he was thinking of hitting something else. "How did you get to see my design notes! You little…"

All the other Rangers stepped forward in a protective gesture. But Gadget seemed back to her usual cheerful self. "I didn’t. I just reverse engineered the most logical engineering choices from the outside appearance and space limitations. I did get to see it for several seconds. But after all I’m only a fourth rate spark plug tester."

The tall mouse glowered, then turned on his heel, catching Dale by surprise. The Hawaiian shirted chipmunk dropped his snooty pose and put on a big cheesy grin as he side stepped away. "Uhhh… Nice weather we’re having… donchaknow…" He said in an attempted posh accent. However, despite the fact that he’d done it perfectly as Dread Pirate Williams, it now seemed to escape him.

Mouseworthy was not amused. "You are fortunate that this place is under a truce. Otherwise our future conversation would be carried out through seconds."

Dale looked nonplussed. "Well… Don’t let that stop you. I don’t have that much to say to you either. A few seconds is all it would take."

"Peasant! I mean a meeting on the field of honour!"

Dale’s clueless expression suddenly got a lot of extra clue. "You prate of honour, but show little yourself." He suddenly declaimed in his best Dread Pirate Williams voice. "You speak ill of the dead, and act in a most improper manner to a lady of quality. My blade is at your disposal at any time after the current truce ends."

The tall mouse started to say something, then thought better of it and strode away.

The other Rangers looked a bit stunned, except Foxglove who power glomphed him. "Oh darling, you were wonderful!"

Gadget nodded. "Golly, yes, where did you learn to speak like that?"

Dale grinned. "Shucks, there’s been a lot of swashbuckling movies on the late, late night film line-ups. And Foxy likes it when I speak all fancy to her."

Chip made a mental note to start watching said movies along with Dale.

&&&

Despite his easy going attitude, Monterey Jack was a gentleman of the first water. As a result he would never keep a lady waiting. This meant although he had washed, brushed up, changed into his neater jumper and forfeited his usual flying helmet and scruffy jacket, he was still at the rendezvous on the stroke of six.

The café in question was rather more substantial than many of the yatai (cart) style vendors. It occupied a set back area from the midway, and had tables out front. The theme was early 90’s jukebox. The tables were compact disks, silver side up, mounted on cut down plastic drinking cups. The stools were also made out of multicoloured minidisk cases, filled with padding and mounted on single serving milk pots. It was quite clear they could be detached, in which case they’d nest for easy storage.

The café building itself was a CD storage case with a kitchen and storage in back, and a counter made of the slide out tray with the top half folded down. Folded out, coloured CD jewel cases gave the counter an awning, providing shade and shelter while letting in some light. Obviously the whole thing was designed to fold up into a box and be transported wherever needed.

Monty went up and got himself a bowl of cheese snacks to nibble, then sat at one of the tables at the back and waited. Then he waited, and waited, and waited some more. By twenty past six, according to the illuminated digital watch at the counter, the cheese snacks were long since gone, and he was having some pretty bleak thoughts. Obviously the poor lass had gotten cold feet over her impulsive offer, and couldn’t bring herself to come and apologise.

He was about to go when a scurrying dark brown mouse, still in the same blouse and skirt, came off the midway at a considerable pace. She narrowly avoided a collision with a group of cheerful French rats, and made a ping-pong ball like approach to his table, skirting disaster a dozen times. It was amazing, not a swinging tail, or sliding chair was avoided, except by the narrowest of margins. She finally came to a halt in front of him.

"Oh, you’re still here, Colby-san!" She gave a little bow and continued, "I’m so sorry I’m late, but someone came to me at the last minute with changes to the volunteer duty rosters. They were most insistent it had to be done right away. I will go and get the cheese milkshakes, shall I?"

Monty broke into a wide smile. "That’d be fine, Kimiko-kun, and call me Monty. Make mine a cheddar, with parmesan sprinkles."

"Hai, Monty-kun." She went to the counter, and brought back a pair of milkshakes, miraculously without spilling a drop. She put them down and then slumped onto her stool with a sigh of relief.

"Hard day, was it?" Monty asked. His companion sighed. "You have no idea! It takes a lot of organisation to run an event this big, and we don’t have that many permanent staff. We could probably _build_ an airplane with the paper we use up, a human sized one! Oh dear, you don’t want to hear about my problems."

"No worries. Yer here now, and that’s what mattahs." There was a short silence as they both sucked on their milkshakes. The lady mouse visibly relaxed. There was a bit of an awkward silence. Although it was winter here too, the island was in sub-tropical latitudes, and the place was merely comfortably cool, and it was still light.

Monty had his first chance to look clearly at the lady who’d invited him here. Her face was slightly chubby, but that didn’t hide the fact that she was pretty, if you did more than glance, especially the emerald eyes he’d noticed earlier. Her whiskers were fine and groomed out, and her ears were quite shapely. There was a slight scent of jasmine about her too. He realised he was staring, and was about to say something when Kimiko spoke first.

"You said something about adventures when we first met. I would love to hear about some."

"Now there I can oblige yer. Happens I was in Japan a couple a’ years ago. Me ship had just docked at Tokyo harbour and me and Zipper…"

He drifted into storytelling mode, and was surprised to find Kimiko was actually listening. By the time he’d finished the tropical twilight had passed with shocking suddenness, and an employee had brought a lit candle stump, floating in a metal foil cup, out to their table.

"… so that was one cat oyaban who nevah wanted to hear about chopsticks again!"

Kimiko giggled, a lovely sound. "Oh my, Monty you do seem to end up in the oddest situations."

Monty chuckled. "It’s kind of a family tradition. Both me mum and dad wandah all over the world, they’re often not even on the same continent. But we’re all glad to see each other when we do meet. How about your parents?"

He realised as soon as he said it that it was a mistake. Kimiko stiffened up, then tried to cover it. He immediately apologised. "Sorry, Kimoko-kun. Didn’t meant to bring up bad memories."

"It is… alright, Monty. My parents and I had a… disagreement when I was younger. We don’t speak any more."

"Still, I’m sorry. Look you got the milk shakes, what would you say to me getting us a meal?" He expected her to make some excuse, but surprisingly she brightened up. "I would say, I would like that very much."

Over the dinner, cheese omelettes on vegetable rice, they continued to talk, and Monty started telling another story, this time about the Rangers. He’d used chopsticks often enough and so had no problem eating between the lines. He gave a highly edited version of how they’d met, and then at Kimiko’s prompting, about their trip to England and the meeting with his ghostly forebear.

"… now you don’t have to believe me, but that’s the way it happened, ghost and all."

Kimiko shook her head. "But I do. In Japan too, we have respect for our ancestoral spirits, even if they don’t often make themselves as noticeable."

"Oh, yeah, Buddhism. I guess you would be more ready to credit that kind of thing, at that."

This got an approving expression. "You are well informed. Most people outside my country have very little interest in such things."

Monty put a paw to the back of his head, slightly embarrassed. "Yeah, well, I’ve been just about everywhere, and done just about everything. But I guess some of the best times in my life I’ve had with me pallies."

"These Rescue Rangers you spoke of. You must be very close."

"You got that roight. They’re me best friends, but they’re more loike family. Zipper, I’ve been taking care of since he were a nipper, and Gadget, well with her own dad gone, I do me best to fill in. Then there’s Chip and Dale. Those two are as different as night and day, but they’re both a pair of right battlers. They’re loike a pair of favourite nephews, and Foxglove, the bat you met is loike a niece. All of ‘em have come to me for advice at one time or another, and I do me level best to give it." Monty was actually a little surprised in retrospect how open he was being, but there was something about Kimiko that invited confidences.

Kimiko didn’t seem to be bothered by the family references. "You didn’t say how Foxglove came to be part of your group. How does she fit in?"

Monty grinned. "Now there’s another story that might crowd yer suspension of disbelief. It all started when we’d gone out to see a movie. We took the Rangerwing, this was before it had a canopy, you havta understand, we took it to a drive in and…"

The tale finished off the meal, and a dessert course of strawberry cheesecake and drinks afterwards. "… as far as I know, Freddie is still in the clink. Dale and Foxglove got together, and she taught him to hand-glide. The two have been togther ever since."

Kimiko sniffled slightly and dabbed her eyes with the scrap of paper towel that came with the meal. "Oh my, that’s so romantic! You all lead such exciting lives! It makes me feel rather plain and ordinary by comparison." She looked downcast.

Monty shook his head, then looked straight at her. "Kimiko, yer not ordinary, and no-one can call you plain. You were willin’ t’ believe my stories, and while they’re the honest truth, no ordinary person would think it. Yer eyes are loike a pair of emeralds, and yer laugh is like a crystal clear spring in the middle of the outback, refreshin’ ta all who hear it."

She looked down, a slight blush visible even through her fur. "There is no need to waste compliments on me. I am nothing special to look at, and I am a clutz, I know. Most people look at me and see no further than the glasses and the extra ounces."

"Then they’re missin’ a treat. In case yer haven’t noticed I carry the occasional bit a’ paddin’ meself. Neveah bothers me. And I’ve got me own problem. I get these cheese attacks. It used to be the first whiff a a noice piece of cheese and I’d go runnin’ after it, no matter what the danger to me or me pallies. Of course, now I always carry a wrapped piece of brie, so’s I can break meself out of it, I still gotta watch meself."

Kimiko frowned, not angrily, but in puzzlement. "But there have been plenty of cheese smells around tonight, and you’ve been a perfect gentleman."

Monty realised she was right. There had been plenty of cheesy smells that would normally have meant he’d be visiting the counter every five minutes, but he’d ignored them. "I guess I had something… someone more distracting around."

This got another pleased giggle from Kimiko. "That is the first time I’ve been called a distraction, at least in a good way." She stopped smiling. "It was a good way, wasn’t it?"

"Too roight. It’s things like that make us special, you with yer distractin’ ways, and me with me unique physique." He patted his chest with a thudding sound. "It’s mostly muscle, anyhow, though I ain’t no Blondi Beach muscle mouse. Me muscles is for work, not show."

"I could tell when you caught me. You aren’t some lame bishonen pretty mouse, you’re much more rugged, and capable."

Monty smirked. "Rugged, I loike that. You have a way with words, guess it comes from working in a library. Nevah been much for ‘em meself…", then he realised what he was saying. "…but I can see it could be interestin’ work, for the roight type a person."

Kimiko’s answering smile told him she hadn’t been fooled for a minute. "I guess it would look dull to someone like yourself. But…" She went on to tell him of some of it’s history, how the first small animal libraries were like monasteries under human ones, with scribes laboriously copying out small scale reproductions of human books by paw, and people wanting to read came to the library and stayed there paying a fee in barter.

Simple reprographics equipment like mechanical handbill printers had been adapted as printing presses, making it slightly easier to reproduce the books, and lending libraries had started. Even newspapers could be reproduced from direct prints from the microfiche storage (somewhat out of date admittedly) Now access to computers and high end photographic printers made it so easy thousands of books had become available.

There was still little direct small animal writing, as opposed to publishing small animal editions of human works, as few creatures had the determination to write a book by hand, or the resources to type one on a computer. But things were getting easier as the small animal society received more sophisticated hand-me-downs, or even built their own out of human discards.

Monty wouldn’t have expected to find it interesting, but there was something about Kimiko’s voice. He suspected she could recite the ABCs and he’d still be interested. She was winding down when the proprietor of the café, a mongoose who managed to look tough, even in an apron, came over to their table.

"Sorry folks, but we’re closing up for the night. I hope you enjoyed your meal."

"It were some roight bonzer grub, mate, but I guess you’ll be wanting us to shove off."

The chef grinned. "Well I wouldn’t have put it quite like that, but, yeah."

Monty got up and offered Kimiko his arm. She took it and got up, leaning on it for a moment until she got her balance. She bowed to the chef. "Thank you for an excellent meal."

As the pair walked out of the café enclosure, Monty said, "Would you loike me to escort you to yer place?" Kimiko had shown no signs of letting go of his arm, so it was either that or gnaw it off. She nodded, happily. They walked the rest of the way in silence, enjoying the night air and the great bright moon that sailed high in the sky.

Monty’s internal dialogue was much less serene. He knew that they came from two different worlds, and that after the WAAT they’d probably go back to their own homes, him with the Rangers, her to her library in Yokohama. However that just decided him that they should make the most of every moment they did have together.

There were quarters for the permanent staff set up in the very back of one of the hangars, where a set of work benches and shelving once were. While the tools were long gone, it had been easy enough for the organisers to convert the drawers and shelving into all the housing and office space they needed.

Kimiko reluctantly let go of his arm when they got to the partitioned off shelf that was her sleeping quarters. She looked up at him, being about the same height as Gadget. "Thank you Monterey-kun… or can I just call you Monty? It was a most enjoyable evening."

"Fer me too, and yer can, on the condition I can call you Kimiko."

"I said so long ago." She reached up and put her hands to his cheeks, pulling his face down to her level. She changed her grip to a hug around his neck, and gave him a kiss right on the muzzle. "I hope to see you around, tomorrow maybe? I’m free until 10 am."

"That would be just bonzer, luv." He didn’t realise he was saying it, but it got another smile from the mousette.

As she let go and let herself into her sleeping place, he turned and wandered off, happily humming ‘Waltzing Matilda’.

<Station Break - Snap!>

The Rangers quickly got accustomed to life on Tomodachi Island. There were competitions for various classes of craft, and flying animals, to see who could go highest, or fastest, or manoeuvre the best. Their planes could have entered a few, but Gadget was only really interested in the big one, the unlimited air race that would be held over the last three days. An eight hundred mile route laid out over the three hundred mile stretch of islands to the south and east, with checkpoints (which doubled as recharging/refuelling stops) every 80 or so miles.

Some of the competitions were for model aircraft, as in building exact scale replicas of human planes. While many human model kits made a good start, they often let smaller details slip, and converting them into animal flyable models was a task as exacting and difficult as a human building a ship in a bottle. A few even had piston engines. There were also panels on various technical subjects and new discoveries. The WAAT was something of a showcase for small animal developments in technology. Dale took great delight when he found some Japanese animals had taken the core components of several handheld Gameguys, and converted them into small animal scale arcade machines. He spent several hours on the Dance Dance Revolution machine which used a converted full sized game controller as the floor pad.

Gadget, of course was in her element, visiting every seminar and presentation, and wanting to understand all of them. She usually had a certain chipmunk detective in tow. Despite the fact that he didn’t understand most of the details, Chip still found himself enjoying the talks. Gadget’s enthusiasm was infectious and her presence uplifting. Besides, he understood enough to understand the general purpose of some of the things on show, and could see applications for casework. Mouseworthy stayed out of their way, which suited them both.

Monty, being a world traveller, also had a lot of catching up to do. His association with Geegaw had made him acquainted with a number of the participants, and those he didn’t know directly, usually had a mutual friend. Some had heard of the Rescue Rangers, and wanted to hear about their adventures, which gave Monty a chance to use his storytelling skills. Zipper was either flying around with him, or shmoozing with the small but active group of insect fliers at the convention. Most of them were natural fliers, but there were a couple of spider balloonists and one ant mechanic who built his own leaf and twig aircraft.

This didn’t necessarily mean that Monty was alone. Kimiko was also a frequent visitor to the Ranger’s camp, and got to be friendly with all the others. She seemed to have a positive thirst for his tales, whether of his own exploits, or those of the Rangers. She also told the others that although a few organisers and staff like her were full time, most of the work had been done by volunteers, ordinary members of the trials putting in a few hours of helping out. This lead to most of them doing a stint as security or stewards, while Gadget did a panel on Improvisational Engineering.

This turned into one of the conventions biggest successes. It had been an hour long filler to replace a session that had to be cancelled, but turned into a three hour marathon that filled out the section of hangar set aside for it, and ended only because she ran her voice hoarse answering questions. On Chip’s advice she stuck to some of her more mundane inventions (he thought telling them about her garbage can space ship, or the reverse engineering of Nimnul tech and the salvaged Fleeblebroxian drive matrix might not be believed, or cause jealousy if it was.) Still, inventions like her various submersibles, railroad rocket shovel, the magno-ray, and her weather detector caused quite enough of a stir.

Foxy and Dale were having a great time, quite apart from time spent at the arcade. There were a large contingent of Japanese animals, and engineers, and both types often had otaku leanings. The calculator wrist watch data bank that Gadget had reconditioned as a PDA for Foxglove quickly filled with e-mail addresses. Her sketching talent and otaku knowledge quickly won her friends, whereas Dale just needed to be his usual goofball self. Besides, he’d found the food court, with delicacies from all over the world. Foxglove introduced him to the wonders of Japanese snack food, which he quickly became a big fan of. However, not every encounter was a pleasant one.

Foxglove had been waiting for Dale to return from the throng around the stall selling flavoured crushed ice with cones for the two of them. She suddenly ‘heard’ a trio of sonar chirps aimed right at her. A trio of big male bats with impressive flight muscles veered towards her.

The one in the middle spoke first, in Russian accented Battish, "What is beauty such as you doing by yourself?"

Foxglove looked miffed. "Waiting for my boyfriend to get back, so back off."

"Hey! Whatcha doing with Foxy!", Dale’s voice came from behind them. He pushed through between two wings and handed her a cone with red coloured ice. He stood beside her, "Sorry I took so long. I hadta convince them to make ketchup flavoured ice."

The lead bat continued to speak to Foxy. "You are having the little joke, no? He is grounder, nyekulturny [uncultured]." The word ‘grounder’ was purely Battish in origin, and a rather impolite way of referring to creatures without wings.

Dale was not going to be ignored. "Yeah? And what does that make you? Who are you guys anyway?"

The bat drew himself up to his full height, a good half head taller than Dale. "I am Mikhael Andrevitch…", the second stepped forward to one side, "…Sergi Andrevitch…", the other stepped in on the other, "…Dimitri Andrevitch, and together we are…"

"Wyld Stalions?", Dale interjected.

The trio were thrown off stride. "… Wyld… no! The Flying Kamarazov Brothers."

Foxglove just shrugged, and Dale was equally unimpressed. "You’re also outta luck. Foxy’s had more than enough of ‘vitches’ having been a familiar an’ all. And you guys aren’t just familiar, you’re annoying."

The centre one growled. "You are making the mockery of us? What would you be knowing of the needs of bats? You do not have wings."

"But Dale has me, so there!" Foxglove said, snuggling into Dale’s free arm and wrapping a wing over his shoulder. She stuck her tongue out.

"And I do so have wings! …well sorta.", Dale replied, heatedly. He reluctantly disengaged himself from Foxglove’s snuggle and stepped round in front of her in a protective stance. He pressed a release on the harness under his Hawaiian shirt, and Gadget’s latest batglider unfolded, the twin control bars unfolding over his shoulders with their custom made paw grips.

The three bats looked on for a moment, then laughed heartily. "A glider?", Dimitri asked, still chuckling. "You are byeazoomnee [crazy] if you are thinking that you impress _real_ fliers with that."

Foxglove came up behind Dale and snuggled up behind him, talking over his shoulder. "My darling is a real flyer too! He’s as good as any bat who ever flew!"

That got their attention. Michael said, "That is the big boast, no? I do not see him putting money in mouth. Let him enter un-powered acrobatics competition and prove it!"

Dale wasn’t about to let them get away with that, or fail to back up Foxy. "Huh, you got it! I’ll be there, and you bet your tails I’ll beat you guys too!"

Mikhael smirked. "If not, maybe you stick to climbing trees. We see you there." They strode off, proudly.

Dale stood there watching them before being engulfed by a batty hug. "Oh Dale, how brave of you to stand up to all three of them!"

Dale was momentarily dazed by the foxgloving, but then he put his arms around her gently, leaned close, and whispered gently in her ear. "Uhhhh… Foxy, could you help me with the glider? I need some help retracting these wings."

An older mouse in a yellow Hawaiian shirt came up to the two Rangers as they watched the three bats recede. He obviously mistook Dale for a fellow countryman, because he shook his head, "Keiki, [Kid] are you lolo [crazy]? You know who those haole [foreigners] are?"

Dale and Foxglove both shook their heads. The mouse carried on. "The Flying Kamarazov Brothers are the Russian champion formation flyers, and winners of the last WAAT un-powered acrobatics competition! And you just challenged them!"

Foxy released Dale and started helping push the wings back into their retracted position. This did not stop her saying brightly, "Don’t worry sir, Dale is very creative, and a really good flyer. I bet he already has a plan!"

Dale put on his best grin, and tapped the side of his red nose with the side of one of his paw pads. "Maybe I do, Foxy-mitten, maybe I do…"

&&&

Dale was pacing back and forth frantically and muttering. "Gotta getta plan! Gotta getta plan! Gotta…" There was a loud bonking sound.

Dale looked up at Chip with an annoyed expression. "Hey! Whatddya do that for!"

"Because you needed it. Stop panicking and start thinking." The scene was the cargo compartment of the Screaming Eagle, and Chip stood over the fallen Dale. He then held out a paw and dragged him up.

Dale’s annoyance vanished, to be replaced by worry. "What with? You always said I was a goof, and this hasta be the biggest goof I ever made. I can’t back down and shame Foxy after she stood up for me like that, But how can I go up against these guys!"

Chip felt guilty. This was fall out from the early days of the Rangers, when his crush on Gadget had made him look for any flaw in his best friend and potential rival, and worse still make it clear to the others. Well, while he couldn’t change the past… maybe he could help Dale gain enough confidence to face this.

"Don’t give me that." The harsh tone pulled Dale out of his melancholy. "I’ve seen you go toe to toe with a sword wielding alligator, so you can’t be scared of a bunch of bats." He sighed and changed to a gentler tone.

"This is partly my fault. I may have apologised since for the way I acted, but seems like I did such a good job of convincing everybody you were a clutz-up even you believe it. What about the time you saved us all from that mad chocolate maker, or your stint as Double O Dale, or Ram-Dale or even that Red Badger of Courage business? Maybe normally you find it easier to goof around, but when you really need to pull it out, you can be scarily competent."

"But when I was the Red Badger, my plans all fouled up."

"Except the last one, which worked in spades. Besides they weren’t bad plans, just poorly executed, and that’s because you didn’t have the experience. It’s not like I covered my self in glory that time either. If I’d been acting like a leader, I would have given you a chance to develop those skills, but you already know why that didn’t happen."

"Okay, who are you, and what’ve you done with Chip?"

Chip growled. "I’m trying to help you, you…" he cut himself off. "I can always bonk you on the head again if that’ll make you feel better."

Dale back-watered rapidly. "No, that’s okay. But what’m I going to do?"

"Well first your going to state the problem, stripped of all the emotional verbiage."

Dale thought. "Uhh… I guess it’s to win the un-powered acrobatics competition. But how…"

Chip interrupted him. "Hold up. Think Dread Pirate Williams. What are your assets?"

"Oh… me, I guess, and my glider…", Dale scratched his head.

"What about Foxy, and the rest of us?"

"I hadn’t thought of that, I guess so."

Chip shook his head. "And you’re the one with the reputation for thinking outside the box. What about your liabilities?"

Dale was getting into this now. "I’m up against guys who won the competition last time and are expert flyers. They’ve gotta know every trick in the book. Whereas I’ve never done this before in my life."

Chip nodded. "Fair assessment. Alright, you need to use these assets to produce a routine that will win. You have the rules."

"But I don’t know anything about acrobatics competitions…"

"Stop worrying about what you can’t do, and focus on what you can. Besides, who says it has to be just you up there? Get Foxy in on it, she’s a great flier, and figure out something the two of you can do."

Dale nodded, looking unusually thoughtful. "I guess that’d work, but we don’t have time to practice anything fancy enough."

"Well is there anything you already know?"

Dale paced back and forth. "Well, we just kinda play when we fly together… Maybe… no it’s silly… but back when I was still learning, we used to play a game, called ‘Chase me Charlie’. She’d fly and I’d try to catch her. But it was just a kids game she knew, a way for young bats to train."

"It taught _you_ well enough. Now you just need to jazz it up, make it look good."

"But how?"

"You tell me! You’re the one who’s got every adventure film and comic ever written stored up in that peanut noggin of yours."

Dale ignored the off hand jibe, a sign that he was actually thinking. "Hey, yeah, it’s a performance, acting, and that I can do. It can’t be anything too fancy, we only want a few minutes of performance time, and you gotta remember our audience is from all over, so it can’t be too specific, or we’ll lose ‘em… I got it!"

"Yeah?"

"There was this late, late show all about comics and films and some professor was talking about how they were all based on a very few basic stories, common to everybody. I would’a fallen asleep but he was illustrating it with Kablammo man episodes. One of the ones used a lot was ‘Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl.’ It’s a really fundamental sorta thing, common to practically every culture. We do some sort of meeting scene at the very start, then I chase after Foxy and try to impress her, and finally we land and get together for the big kiss at the finale. I can even put in some slapstick… playing the goof shouldn’t be hard… this’ll work!"

Chip smirked. "There, you can do it when you try."

Dale sighed. "Thanks to you."

"Uh uh. You came up with the idea, I just guided you through working it out."

"You mean that? Oh, I get ya. This is one of those leadership things."

"Nope. That was a ‘friendship thing’. My leadership thing comes in when you tell me what you need from us to make it work, and I make sure it happens. So start figuring it out, buddy."

&&&

Everyone rallied round, preparing props and background stuff. Their good relationship with Tamaburo and Kimiko got them the computer time to get things ready, and then all they could do was wait…

"… and the Flying Kamarazov brothers complete their routine with the difficult Triple Parabolic Pass, completed perfectly!" The announcer was an over excited hamster in a baseball cap. He was almost drowned out by the ohhs and ahhs of the crowd, and the Kossack style music playing over the sound system. The main plaza was thronged by the audience for the un-powered acrobatics event. As the trio of big bats came in for a perfect synchronised landing on the platform, just as the music hit it’s final beat, the crowd burst into cheers. The trio posed proudly, big smiles on their faces.

"And the judges are about to give their marks out of six…"

The trio of judges, a bowler hatted pipistrel bat, a peregrine falcon, and a big African dragonfly bedecked with beads and a sash, were all pressing buttons on the calculator watch keypads mounted in their podiums. Up on the big projector screen behind the stage appeared two sets of numbers. Artistic merit: 5.6, 5.7, 5.7. Technical Merit: 6.0, 6.0, 6.0. That got some gasps and clapping from the crowd.

"Ohhh… and it’s a perfect score for technical skill, the first time in 10 years, and a an excellent one for entertainment value. Overall it’s a 35 out of a maximum of 36… which puts them at the top of the leader board! And with their nearest competitor on 34.2, the final contestants will have to do something really spectacular to get into the top three."

The stage was just in front of the big projector screen, at one end of the plaza. It was only a 40 inch, ‘tabletop’ screen, but to a small animal it was impressive. Set back behind it there was a makeshift tent that covered the reconditioned projector and laptop computer that generated the images, and a small town of milk cartons and cereal boxes that served as offices and the operations area for the convention. The air was cool enough today that the hot air rising from the souped up projector’s fan rippled the air as it trickled out of the peak. Dale, up on the roof of a hangar overlooking the plaza from behind, looked down on the scene below with an uncharacteristically worried look. "Gosh! Look at ‘em all! What if I mess up?"

He was interrupted by a double winged hug. "You won’t, cutie. I believe in you."

Dale turned his head to find a pair of big golden orbs staring lovingly into his. He sighed and relaxed into the hug. "I wasn’t this nervous even when we did a dance routine at Fat Cat’s casino."

"Dale, you’ll do fine. I made sure our background music and visuals are properly cued, Chip and Zipper are managing them, everything’s prepared, and if something unexpected does happen, you’ll probably just turn it into part of the act."

The chipmunk took a shuddering breath and exhaled, relaxing. "Whooo!" He looked straight back at her. "Y’know, having someone like you… I think I might just be the luckiest guy in the entire world." That got him a nose nuzzle and a smooch.

"Our final contestants are newcomers to the competition, from the USA, Dale Oakmont and Foxglove." Their pictures appeared side by side on the big screen.

"Uh oh… that’s our cue." Below them music started, a gentle upbeat tune. On the screen the image zoomed in on the roof of the hangar with Foxglove standing there. This had actually been filmed earlier that day by the hovering Rangerwing, from a camera point out over the hangar edge. Almost immediately Dale walked in from the side, clearly nervous and hesitantly offered the bat girl a piece of wrapped chocolate. A great actor can convey a lot simply by a gestalt of expression and movement, and this had all the signs of a guy making a first approach to someone they really liked, but wasn’t sure liked them.

He immediately looked down at his paws. Having watched enough anime to know them, he added a few Japanese visual cues for nervousness like steepling two fingers together and pressing them against each other. He needn’t have worried. The chocolate got him a chocolatey peck on the cheek. Then the girl bat got a mischievous expression and skipped away, flying off the edge and blowing a kiss. As she did, Foxglove repeated the actions exactly in reality, becoming visible for the first time to the crowds below.

The point of view smoothly swept round so the edge of the hangar roof could be seen beyond Dale, but the plaza itself was obscured. The music segued into one of Foxglove’s favourite pieces of flying music, ‘Up in the Air’ from Macross Plus. As the change occurred so a change came over Dale on the screen. The nervousness was gone, and obvious joy was in it’s place, right down to his ears twitching. Suddenly he showed a determined expression, and charged at the edge of the hangar roof. Just at the music went into it’s first cymbal crash, he plunged over the edge, to not a few gasps from the audience, as the real Dale had matched it. The screen faded out as attention turned to the diving chipmunk.

The Rangerwing, piloted by Gadget and Monty, was hovering off to one side. It’s plunger harpoons were at the ready, but it wasn’t needed. Dale’s batwing glider unfolded from it’s backpack without a hitch. As the main refrain played he swooped and then soared, bringing himself up level with the hovering bat girl and just in front of her, then dived and soared up behind her as she turned to face him and the refrain repeated. She side-slipped away and he followed as the music went on, performing barrel rolls and loops and vertical turns in time to the music, ending with them both doing a soaring stall facing one another as the music reached a crescendo. They spun away as the second refrain started, almost dancing together as the music jigged and then going into a follow my leader, Foxglove leading that did close passes of the audience, and then each other. It was clear from their expressions that Foxglove was teasing playfully, and Dale was following worshipfully.

The audience was seeing nothing more than two superb flyers having fun, but the judges and other experts could see deeper. Foxglove was seeking out wind currents that could give Dale lift and incorporating indications into her movements in time to the music. Dale in turn was using the indications and following her, a bar behind and also in time with the music. Such a synchronised performance required a great degree of communication and understanding, all the more so because since the wind currents couldn’t be predicted, it had to be improvised.

A trained flyer would have said it couldn’t be done, but the only ones Foxglove and Dale had ever trained with was each other. It was a clear example of Foxglove’s first law ‘Reminding someone it can’t be done, is a sure way to ensure it can’t.’ and Dale’s corollary, ‘If you don’t know something can’t be done, you may be able to do it.’ Or ‘Achievement through Ignorance.’ as Chip liked to call it.

Between hangars some bushes had grown up, and on one pass Dale dipped low, skimming them and plucking a pre-prepared flower in passing. He came away with it held between his teeth, then dumped a number of small leaves out of his shirt as he glided across the plaza, getting a few laughs from the crowd. He glided behind the main screen, catching the upward thermal from the projector and went up like an express elevator, popping up over the top of the screen in a thinker pose. That got a bigger laugh, followed by an aww as he swept in and handed over the flower to Foxglove, again en passant. Not easy to do, even if your partner has built in sonar.

Where the music grew quieter, the pair drifted over the open air food stalls, and Dale went into another one of his pre-planned antics. He shifted his weight and came to a hover in mid air, balancing his weight, the air and the rising heat from the stalls. He exaggeratedly looked back and forth between the hovering Foxglove and the stalls, an expression of hunger on his face, then mimed running towards them, legs wagging comically and arms pumping. He suddenly did a ‘aha’ take and tipped out of his hover into an inverted loop de loop, plucking an inch long stick of cut down pocky from a stall holders hands.

On the upward path he bellied his wings to take best advantage of the rising air from the hot food stalls, and soared up to meet Foxglove, holding the pocky stick between his teeth. They were face to face, spiralling down, as they each nibbled along the length of chocolate covered biscuit stick. Obviously this led to a ‘Lady and the Tramp’ style kiss. Then they split away and rejoined wing on wing, to go into a synchronised set of finishing moves as the music reprised the original theme.

As the coda started, Dale dropped down to a perfect two point landing on the stage. As it played out, Foxglove came down, dropping into a perfect ballerina hold in Dale’s arms. As it reached it’s final beats, Dale gently lowered the bat and she glomphed him just as the music hit it’s final beat. This got a round of claps and cheers as the bat-winged hug went on. It took a cough from the announcer before the pair unwrapped themselves into a side by side pose, wing tip in paw, with both of them grinning rather foolishly.

"And a spectacular showing from the newcomers! The crowd are clearly impressed." The announcer was equally clearly a master of the blooming obvious. "But let’s see what the judges think."

The figures slowly appeared on the board. Artistic merit: 6.0… 5.9… 6.0. This got a cheer from the crowd, and a comment from the announcer. "Well folks, an almost perfect score for artistry, certainly the highest in the competition… and here comes the decider, the technique scores."

The first number appeared, 5.6… Dale gritted his teeth as he watched. 5.6… Foxglove’s wing was around his shoulder, hugging fiercely, 5.5. There was a couple of seconds as people worked it out, though there were gasps from the faster calculators. The total appeared… 34.6.

"Amazing! These newcomers to the scene have come out in second place against strong competition! Indeed they are only short of the winners by two tenths of a point. It’s a remarkable upset…"

Upset was the word. Dale went through the motions of the award ceremony, putting on his best grin for the crowd, and Foxglove, but she could tell he wasn’t entirely happy. After the congratulations, and the pats on the back from the others, they finally had some moments alone.

"What’s wrong darling? You were wonderful!" asked Foxglove, practically surgically attached to his arm.

"Not wonderful enough…" Dale said gloomily as he saw the Mikhael of the Flying Kamarazovs approach Attached to him was a pretty bat maid with a fur stole around her shoulders.

"Hey, is Wyld Stallion chipmunk. I am just telling Natalia about you… Why is you having face long enough for stallion anyways?"

Dale sighed. "No need to rub it in, I’ll stick to climbing trees…" This got Foxy looking at him strangely.

"What is the stupid talking for? Was coming to say I was eating own words with salt. You were showing you may be chipmunk, but must be bat in last life."

Dale looked surprised. "But you said if I couldn’t beat you I should…" He stuttered to a halt as the bat started laughing. Eventually he gasped to a halt. "Is too much… That was just flexing of wing muscles, was not serious. I was annoyed because thought lady was on own, not safe, and then you were getting up nose. You are needing to be increasing in lightness."

Natalia interjected. "I think you meant getting in your face and lightening up, darlink."

Mikhael looked puzzled. "Is that not what I am saying?"

[We pause for a moment while the reader boggles at the concept that anyone would tell _Dale_ to lighten up.]

"So that’s why…"

"You are thinking instead I try to steal away? Is to be laughing, Natalia is more than enough for me."

The girl bat in question tightened her grip around his wing. "You is better be rememberink that darlink." She said in a stern tone. This was quickly mitigated by a giggle. "Come, I is wanting to know how we do that think with chocolate stick. Is lookink very… interestink." She gave her bat beau a smouldering look and he blushed up to the tip of his ears, which being a bat took some time.

Foxglove gave a little smile. "Oh goodness yes. I intend to have Dale do several repeat performances, just for me…" She gave him a tight little squeeze with her wing, and his ears twitched.

Mikhael tried changing the subject. "We are going to arcade. Like Miyazaki films, Dance Dance Revolution is hard to come by in my country."

Foxglove smiled. "You are a fan of Miyazaki films?" "…and Dance Dance Revolution?" added Dale.

"Am pleading guilty to both. Do I speak to fellow afflicted?"

"You betcha!" said Dale grinning broadly. "Say, if we come along, you can give me a few pointers on what we did wrong. In return I’ll show you how a pro does DDR." He was clearly being funny rather than challenging.

Mikhael took it in the spirit in which it was meant. "Am already knowing. _I_ am doing it, after all."

"We’ll see! Let’s go then…" Dale raced off ahead, closely followed by the Russian bat.

Natalia and Foxglove trailed along after them at a more sedate pace. "Honestly, Dale can be such an enthusiast at times, just like a little kid." The American bat girl sighed.

"So is Mikhael. All males is same. But would you really be wanting him different?"

Foxglove shook her head happily as the two walked on.

Authors Note: If Dale and his girl ever went to visit these two in their homeland, would the story be called, ‘From Russia with Foxglove’?

Onto Part Three

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