Poor Little Rich Bear High Flight Story #6 Written by Constance Cochran With additional material by Katie Sullivan, Michelle Beaubien, Jerry Costaldo, and Batya Wittenberg Outline by Constance Cochran with input from The High Flight Crew Beta read by Michelle Beaubien and Chris Barat. Disclaimer: Tale Spin is copyright Disney. Borrowed without permission for non profit purposes. This story not to be reposted without express permission of the High Flight Crew-- tshighflight@iname.com. url: http://fly.to/highflight PART I A blinding white flash of lightning captured the house and palm trees; then the world turned to night again. Wind and rain swirled around the turrets of the mansion. Rain streamed down from the eaves of the orange scalloped rooftops and the elegant white walls. Ancient, dark stone might have been more appropriate for such a dwelling. An indefinite number of stories tall, it twisted, rather than rose, to the stormy sky, its towers and turrets forming a complex silhouette. A high wall made up of the same colors and materials as the house surrounded the entire compound. Along the acres of lush green grounds below, two guard dogs, noses keen despite the rain, walked with their trainer. Another flash of lightning brought life to the landscape scene on a stained-glass window -- green hills and a luminous red sun. It also caught a small shadow where none had been before. The sudden light revealed a slight, lithe figure, the glint of spectacles, and a window swinging open to the wind. Moving slowly, fingers clinging to the wet tile of the roof, he inched sideways like a crab, until he reached the trellis. While his hands twined into the bougainvillea vines, his feet slipped, then finally found purchase on the flimsy wood. With more strength than grace, he went down the trellis, hand over hand, foot by foot. Thunder cracked through the night, but he did not flinch or cower. Only when the dogs made their pass below did he shrink against the vines, the small pack it wore on his back protruding, the canvas straps digging into its shoulders. The dogs snuffled at the wet grass, but finding nothing of interest, continued on. The figure clinging to the trellis heaved a small sigh of relief, then let go, leaping the last few yards. He landed lightly in a crouch, peered about in both directions, then took off across the grounds, keeping his head low. A blast of wind and a louder, more frantic staccato of rain on the roof marked the figure's departure. The next flash of lightning revealed the mansion with all as it should be, all as it always had been, except for one window, swinging back and forth in the wind, the white curtains billowing in and out. The young heir to the Vandersnoot fortune was gone. ***** Model airplanes spun slowly and silently from their strings under the cave-like ceiling, which had been left open to the underside of the tower roof. Posters littered the walls-aviation heroes in leather bomber jackets, scarves tossed rakishly over their shoulders; model charts of aeronautic manufacturers; a poster for a popular silent film; a glamorous young starlet in a pilot's costume, one booted foot jauntily perched on the step of a single-engine plane. The room was neat, save for a few dirty t-shirts on the floor and the paraphernalia of an airplane model project on a small table-containers of glue, little plastic parts, tiny tubes of paint. Lightning flashed, flickering over the already completed model airplanes, making them, for a second, look as if they truly were speeding through the stratosphere. In the tower room above Higher For Hire, the falling rain made a soft, cozy sound against the thatched roof. It lulled its occupants, one a long lump of covers on the bed, the other a longer, taller form wrapped in blankets on the floor. The smaller form on the bed shifted slightly in his sleep, rolling from his side to his stomach. The cheap plastic airplane tucked among the folds of the blankets fell to the wood floor with a soft thump. Kit Cloudkicker stirred again, opened his eyes, and sat up with a startled yell that Ernie quickly cut off by covering Kit's mouth with his hand. "Shh!" the young hyena hissed. He lowered his hand. Head rumpled, eyes bleary with sleep, Kit looked at the group of Jungle Aces standing in his room- Ernie, who was really the leader despite Oscar's title of "honorary president"; Spot, with spindly ostrich neck and beak, and bright red baseball cap worn brim forward, looked ready for anything; Lars, the plump hippo, without his sketchpad tonight because the rain might ruin his cartoons; and S.R., wearing a huge brown windbreaker over her usual overalls, holding a flashlight, her eyes shining brightly above its glow. All of them were dripping wet, leaving small puddles on the floor of Kit's room. "What-?" Kit began. "Midnight meeting," Ernie said in a swift whisper, like a character in a prison movie. "Oscar's going over the wall." Kit slid out of bed in his nightshirt and nudged Winger with his foot. "Mmmph?" said Winger. He opened his eyes, and immediately rolled into an attack crouch. "Hi, Winger, it's just us." S.R., known as Sally Rabbit only to her parents, aimed the flashlight at the lion cub's face. She squatted before him, smiling. "Oh, hi, S.R.," he said, lifting a hand in front of his eyes. "Uh, could you point that thing somewhere else?" S.R. switched the flashlight off, leaving the group with only the occasional flash of lighting to alleviate the darkness. "Guys, keep it down!" Ernie whispered frantically. "Aw, put a sock in it," Winger said. "No, he's right," Kit whispered. "Baloo's asleep-his room's right below this one, and Molly and Becky are asleep in cots in the office. They're having their apartment painted...what happened to Oscar?" "He said he couldn't take it anymore," said Lars. "The pressure's getting to him. He's running away, but he wants to say goodbye to the Aces first." "Is he _nuts_?" Kit groaned and passed a hand over his face. "All right, Winger, we'd better get dressed and go with them." "Right," Winger agreed. "Hey, nice digs, Kit," Ernie said, whistling as his eyes swung over the cavern-like room and its fascinating clutter. "What'd you do to get banished to the attic?" Kit went to the dresser. "I talked to Becky. She talked to Baloo about it." He pulled out a sweater and t- shirt. Winger still hadn't made a move towards his backpack. "Becky?" Spot cocked his head curiously to one side. "I would've thought you'd ask Baloo about stuff like that." "Winger? What are you waiting for?" Kit said impatiently, ignoring Spot's question. He started to remove his nightshirt, then stopped. "Oh. Right." "What?" Ernie sat down at the table to examine the model airplane project. "Um..." Winger nodded his head at S.R. "So?" Lars, Spot, and Ernie all shrugged at the same time. "Guys..." Kit began diplomatically. "She's a girl. We can't change clothes in front of her." Ernie snorted. "S.R.? S.R.'s not a girl. She's just...well, S.R." Winger's hand moved in a way that strongly suggested he was about to unsheathe claws. Before a fight could begin, S.R. flung the flashlight at Ernie. "I'll go wait in the stairwell," she said shortly. "After all, I'm ONLY a girl." She did not slam the door; that would endanger their mission. But the way she oh-so-softly closed it certainly _equaled_ a slam. "Geez, what's eating her?" Ernie said as he propped his feet up on the table, careful not to disturb the model airplane parts. "Ernie..." Kit began, his voice muffled as he pulled on his sweater. "What?" Kit lowered his sweater down over his ears. "Never mind. Let's go. Oscar needs us." ***** Six pairs of feet tiptoed down the wooden stairs of Higher For Hire. Kit raised the window at the front of the office. Over in the corner, Rebecca and Molly were sleeping on two cots. Rebecca's long brown hair was spread out around her head in a lovely halo on the white pillow as she snored delicately. She wore a black sleepmask. Molly was nothing more than a small lump under the covers, a tuft of golden hair sticking out. Neither sleeping figure stirred as the Jungle Aces slipped one by one through the window and out into the rainy night. Not at first, that is. After the last one had gone, shutting the window behind him, the golden-furred bear cub sat up groggily. Leaning on one elbow, she looked at the office in some confusion, then blinked, as she remembered where she was and why she was there. She sat up in the darkness. The rain pattered softly against the sides of the sturdy wooden building. Lightning flickered, revealing a faint wet trail along the bare wood floor. "Kit?" Molly said softly. ***** They knew the path to the clubhouse by heart. Their steps took them through the intricate paths Spot had created through the junkyard to their headquarters. Baby carriages without wheels, the shell of an old Model T, sagging furniture with torn upholstery, a phonograph missing its drum, and rusted propeller blades, formed spindly towers along with stacks of old magazines and abandoned wood-burning stoves. This was their world, like some miniature city with complicated, secret back streets and a piece of history at every turn. At night, in the rain, with only S.R.'s flashlight to guide the way, they were travellers in a strange maze that just might hold a dragon or two. Beyond the hull of a small yacht with gaping holes in its side, the junkyard opened up into a grassy field, and beyond that, the fence that marked the end of the property. An old tree spread its thick, sturdy branches, sheltering the Jungle Aces' clubhouse. A small yellow light burned in the window high above their heads. As Kit followed the others towards the ladder, a weight suddenly struck him from behind. He fell to the wet grass, his legs held in a tight grip. He shouted in alarm. S.R., halfway up the ladder, whipped the flashlight around. The others ran towards Kit. The beam of the flashlight formed a streak against the falling rain and illuminated Molly, appropriately attired in a yellow rain slicker and hat. Cheerful red boots protected her feet. "What are you doing here?" Kit demanded, as Molly's grip finally loosened and he slid away from her across the wet grass. "Actually," Molly said, sitting up and calmly tucking back one damp hair ribbon that had slipped out from under her hat, "I was about to ask you the same question. Sneaking out in the dead of night? Getting into who-knows-what kind of trouble? And how come I wasn't invited?" "Because it's Jungle Aces business," Kit said firmly. "Go home." "Nope." Molly folded her arms. "Guys..." S.R.'s voice floated to them from the ladder. "Oscar's waiting." "Oscar?" Molly said. "What's going on with Oscar?" "We can't tell you. It's a secret. And it could be dangerous. So just go home." "Fine." Molly shrugged and got to her feet. "Hope Mom doesn't wake up when I climb back in through the window," she added, with a sidelong glance at Kit. Kit smacked his palm to his forehead. "C'mon, Mol, you wouldn't..." Molly tapped her booted foot. It made a soft squelching noise on the wet grass. Lars and Spot stood in awkward silence, shuffling their feet, unsure what to do in the face of the girl's calm determination. Finally, Ernie moved to Kit's side. "You can't rat on Kit. You aren't a Jungle Ace. You've got no right to be here in the first place. So just go home." "Kit?" Molly turned to him for confirmation. When he acquiesced with silence, she turned away, shoulders slumping. "Hey!" A voice called from up in the treehouse. "Are you guys ever going to come up or do I leave now?" Oscar poked his head out the window. The rain fogged his glasses, forming beads on the lenses. "Molly, is that you?" He pulled his glasses off. "Did...did you come to say good-bye?" "Good-bye?" Molly turned back. "Are you leaving?" "Running away from home," said Oscar. "Why?" "I'm bored." "Oh," she said. "Well, yes, I came to say good-bye, but THEY won't let me up." "Boys," S.R. muttered. "What?" Lars asked. "Nothing," said S.R. ***** "I know where it's moored, right now," Oscar said. The glow of the tree-house lantern sent spidery shadows up from his glasses over his forehead. "Oscar, you can't run away from home. It's...what about your mom?" Kit grasped the bottom of his sweater and wrung out some of the water. Little pools were forming on the wooden slats that made up the floor of the clubhouse. Winger snorted. "What's wrong? Poor wittle wich bear not getting enough toysie-woysies?" "Shut-up!" Ernie spun towards Winger. "Don't talk to him like that." "Guys," Oscar said. "Come on. Let me explain." "We're listening," Molly said gently. Oscar smiled at her and adjusted his glasses. "Winger has a point. I guess a rich kid like me shouldn't have that much to complain about. But you have no idea...for instance, I can't do anything without all the servants being after me..." ***** The gnarled, high tree on his folks' property was the best place to climb on a sunny afternoon. He liked to go there to be alone. However, on most days this proved to be impossible. No sooner had he swung his leg over the second branch, and grasped a third, than a rabbit, clad in formal black suit and tails, appeared over a rise, trailed by a female skunk in a maid's uniform. "Please, Master Oscar, do come down, that looks quite dangerous." "Aw, c'mon, Thistlethwaite." "Ah, mon petit master Oscar, come down zis instant!" The downstairs maid wrung her paws. "What would poor Madame think?" "She doesn't," Oscar said. "I say, young master, that's a bit rude. Now come down here or I will..." "What?" Oscar propped his elbows on a branch and peered down at his would-be prosecutors. "Or you'll climb up after me? I don't think so." "Now see here, young man..." "Look, I'm sorry I was rude. I just want to be alone for a little while. You know, a-l-o-n-e. Alone. It's not dangerous. I know how to climb." ***** "I see what you mean," said Ernie. "I'd go nuts if my folks were after me every time I wanted to climb a tree." "Kit's lucky," S.R. said suddenly. "He gets to do all kinds of neat stuff and no one tells him not to." "Not _all_ the time..." Kit said quietly. "My mom gets upset over every little thing," Oscar continued. "Like last week..." ***** Rock-climbing had always looked like a thrilling sport. He'd done all the research, and read the magazines. All of them contained incredible photographs, stunning vistas of peaks that touched the sky, just daring anyone to try and scale them. There were no peaks in Cape Suzette, but one of these days, he was going to scale the harbor cliffs. First, he needed to get in shape. The north tower of his parent's mansion served as an ideal training ground. He let out a little more rope, groped for the next handhold, and inched up past the bay window of the second- floor green parlor. His grip slipped. His sudden feeling of terror turned to one of triumph as he realized that the anchors he'd put in worked exactly as they ought to. He was good at this! The young climber kicked off the tower and swung out, only to miscalculated and crash through the elegant, multi-paned window. As he tucked and rolled onto the fine oriental rug that graced the parquet floor, a priceless antique vase, a family heirloom, toppled off its pedestal and broke. Oscar came to a stop in a heap on the floor, bits of broken glass and pottery surrounding him. It took him a moment to get his breath back. Slowly, he pushed himself up from the rug and saw his mother. Prior to his arrival, she had been sitting quietly at the small table, sipping her afternoon tea. "Uh...hi, Mom," he said. "Are there any cookies left?" The teacup slipped from Mrs. Vandersnoot's grasp as she fainted. The cup fell to the floor and shattered. ***** "Ooooh," said Spot, after a very long silence. "That's a pretty bad one." "Yeah," agreed S.R. She began ticking items off on her fingers. "A window, an antique vase, a teacup..." "But did she have to _faint_?" Oscar demanded plaintively. "That _was_ pretty bad," Molly said. "All right. Maybe it was. But that wasn't the worst." He looked around the circle at the expectant faces. S.R. and Winger were perched on a crate. Spot and Lars sat cross-legged on the floor, and Kit and Ernie sat on the torn-up airplane seats they had rescued from the junkyard. "The worst was...was when they took away the stars." ***** His father, perpetually away on business trips, had sent him a present. A fabulous, amazing present. The type every kid dreamed about. It was a telescope, and not the cheap sort that could be ordered off the back of a cereal box. This was the _real thing_. With this, he could see to infinity -- and perhaps beyond. At first, because it was a present from his father, the household staff tolerated his stargazing. But most celestial events did not respect the schedules of young cubs who had mothers that fretted about colds. Thistlethwaite started calling him inside early, and all he got to see was the first planet to shine in the sky each evening. The real crisis came with the meteor shower. Every two hundred years, Galilion's Lights streaked and blazed across the night sky at an hour when most of Usland was asleep. Most, but not all-there were the scientists at the Cape Suzette Observatory. And there were those amateur stargazers who wouldn't miss it for the moon. He had everything set up, skycharts, figures, projections, and plenty of sandwiches. The big east balcony on the third floor, with its view across the open lawns and an unobstructed sky, would be perfect. According to the observatory, the shower would start at about two in the morning. At 10:36 pm, Thistlethwaite came to collect him. "Uh-uh," he said firmly, adjusting the focus on the telescope. "I'm sorry, Thistlethwaite, but not this time. This is a once-in-a-lifetime event." "I am sorry, Master Oscar, but your mother insists. It's a bit cool out tonight, and a stiff wind blowing from the sea. She's concerned about your lungs." "My lungs are fine." He put his eye to telescope and moved it two degrees to the southeast. "Master Oscar..." "Thistlethwaite." He raised his head from the telescope and looked up at the butler who stood solemnly in the light streaming onto the patio from the room within. "Thistlethwaite, I will not be going in tonight. Tell Mother she is not to worry." "Sir, I..." "That will be all, Thistlethwaite," he said, in a tone he seldom used, but one that reminded Thistlethwaite that he was, after all, the heir to the Vandersnoot fortune. "Very good, sir." Thistlethwaite withdrew. He was happy for half an hour longer, sometimes checking the sky through the telescope, sometimes scanning the sky with his head thrown back, dazzled by the stars and the possibilities. In the bushes that flanked the house, insects sang softly. This was almost as nice as having his father home. Then the door creaked open behind him, letting the light out. He turned and saw Thistlethwaite with a slighter figure behind him. "Mom?" "Oscar," she said, voice trembling slightly, "I will not have you catch your death because of some silly stars. The air is damp. You must come in at once." "No," he said. "Oscar, please," Mrs. Vandersnoot held out her hand. "I'm just trying to protect you." "Mom, Galilion's Lights come around only once every two hundred years." "What good is that if you catch pneumonia?" Oscar opened his mouth, but could think of nothing to say. He sent a pleading glance to the heavens. "I'm not coming in, Mother." "Very well." Mrs. Vandersnoot put a white handkerchief to her face. "Thistlethwaite, you know what to do." "Oh, but madam..." Thistlethwaite protested. He looked as if he would rather be elsewhere. "Yes, I know, but I'm only trying to protect my boy. Please, Thistlethwaite, you have served this family so loyally in the past. I need your help." Thistlethwaite sighed. "Very well, madam." With that, he advanced towards the bear cub, seized him, and when the cub struggled, heaved him over his shoulder. Thistlethwaite was less frail than he appeared. The cub kicked and struggled, yelling in outrage. Something in the telescope cracked. The loyal butler hauled his charge through the long corridors of the house to the cub's room, dropped him on the bed, and retreated rapidly. The door closed. As the cub lunged at the door, a key turned in the lock. He rattled the knob, but he couldn't get out. They had locked him in. ***** "I kept thinking old Thistlethwaite would feel sorry for me and come let me out," Oscar said gloomily, hands in pockets. "But no one came. No one let me out at all the next day, either. Thistlethwaite just brought me food. So I decided to leave, storm or no storm." He paused, then added in a bleak voice, "The telescope's broken." Winger whistled. "Whoa, man. I take it back. Can't believe they locked you in." "Wow, like some kind of a prisoner," Ernie said, wide-eyed. "What are you going to do now?" S.R. asked, leaning forward. "High adventure, my friends, high adventure!" Oscar jumped onto the crude wooden dais that served as a stage for the Aces' meetings. He saluted, his glasses gleaming in the light. "I'm joining the Air Pirates!" "What?!" seven voices chorused. "Cripes, Oscar, you can't join the Air Pirates. First of all, Don Karnage is the slimiest worm that ever lived. You can't join Kit's arch-enemy!" Ernie slung an arm across Kit's shoulders. "Secondly, they've been disbanded, remember?" "Actually..." Kit said, "I think Oscar means _Gray Claw's_ Air Pirates." Winger whacked Ernie upside the head. Ernie turned around and shoved Winger. "Stop it!" Kit stepped between them, arms outstretched. "Jerk," Ernie muttered. "Sissy," Winger snapped. Kit ignored them. "Oscar, this is crazy. You can't join the Air Pirates." "I thought you were my friends, and now you're saying I'm crazy. Fine." Oscar threw up his hands. "I'll go without your help." He started for the hole in the floor, but Molly hurried over to him. "Of course we'll help you," she said, glaring at the others. "Yeah, all for one, and one for all!" Ernie crowed. "We're with you, Vandersnoot. Took guts, leaving that ivory tower of yours." "Yeah, we're with you," added Kit. Then he turned to Molly. "But you're going back to Higher For Hire." "I am _not_! Why should I?" "You're the youngest one here, and I'm responsible for you. What if you got hurt?" "But-" "Go home, Molly." "Kit, c'mon, let her..." S.R. tugged on the sleeve of Kit's sweater. "I dunno," said Winger. "He has a point. She is pretty small. Even shorter than S.R. here." Winger tried to pat Molly on the head, but she ducked away. "Great," she said, her voice thick with sarcasm. "That's just great. You know Kit, I'm not _that_ little anymore, but how would _you_ know? You still think I'm six years old." "I know you're not six. But Spot's the youngest one here, and he's already twelve. You're only ten." "Ten-and-a-half," Molly shot back. She plunked herself down on the floor, folded her arms, and shrugged. "Go." "Mol..." Kit began apologetically. "Go!" She unfolded her arms and flapped her hands at them. "I wouldn't want to get you in trouble." There seemed nothing left to say. The seven Aces climbed one by one down the ladder, back out into the rain, leaving Molly to sit alone in the clubhouse by the light of a single, lonely lantern. ***** "We'll take you to the Vulture, and you can see for yourself what it's like." "I _know_ what it's like, I've been on it, remember? _And_ saved you and Baloo." "Ready, heave!" Winger shouted. He and Lars pushed at the back of the dinghy, then ran and jumped in as it floated away from the tiny, rocky beach. The oars of the small dinghy splashed in and out of the rough water. The wind and pelting rain made it difficult to speak. A buoy rang with forlorn insistence through the storm. "You know what I mean," said Kit, huddling under the oilcloth S.R. had found tucked under one of the dinghy's seats. "If I see adventure and thrills and not thieving scum, you'll let me go without trying to talk me out of this. The rest of you can be home by dawn. Deal?" "Deal." They shook pinkies on it. Behind them in the darkness there was a splash in countertime to the steady sound of the oars. "What was that?" S.R. leaned out from the stern, flashlight in hand. The beam barely cut into the gloom. "There's someone in the water!" Ernie crawled over next to S.R. "In a yellow rainslicker and hat." "Molly?" Oscar said, wonderingly. She was drawing closer to the dinghy, and they could make her out clearly now, a small yellow-clad figure fighting against the waves. "Come on, Molly, you can do it!" Oscar shouted. "Stop rowing!" Kit yelled. A wave broke over the swimmer. She kicked hard. Another wave struck her in the face. Molly coughed, and her arms started to move faster. With another wave, the yellow figure was gone from view. "_Molly_!" One moment, Kit was in the dinghy, the next, he was in the water. He reached Molly in a few strokes and grabbed the back of her raincoat collar, pulling her a few inches above the water. Molly choked and spat out water. "K-Kit!" As the two reached the dinghy, many hands reached down to haul them aboard. "Molly," S.R. said, crouching next to the shivering bear cub, "whaddya think you were doing?" "I figured if I reached you guys once you were out in the b-bay, you wouldn't want to take the trouble to row me back. You'd have no choice but l-let me c-come along." Kit, lying with his back against the side of the dinghy next to Molly, finished catching his breath and looked at her. "You wanted to come along that badly? You could have drowned!" He didn't sound angry now, just confused. Molly nodded. "You really should listen when people are talking to you, Kit." "Dummy," he said, before Molly gave him a soaking wet, breath-choking hug. ***** They well were up the coast, outside the protective circle of Cape Suzette's hills and cliffs, when Oscar gave the order for the rowers, Lars and Spot, to slow the boat. Kit, lying on his stomach in the bow, peered out over the dark water. The thunder and lightning had subsided, but rain continued to fall steadily. The outer shores were lined with dense green jungle. "Oscar, there's nothing here." Thick foliage overhung the water, concealing the curving shoreline. It didn't look like anyone had been there in a while. Oscar shook his head. "You'll see." "And keep quiet, everyone," Ernie added. "We don't want to blow the whole operation. Everyone down." The Aces obeyed, with the exception of Winger, who refused to lower himself in the dinghy until Kit tapped him on the shoulder and gave him a pleading look. Slowly, the dinghy approached the overhanging trees that brushed the top of the water. Oscar reached out and pushed the branches aside, and the dinghy slid under them, twigs scraping against its sides. The patter of rain on the water covered the sounds they made. The wall of leaves closed behind them. All the Aces, with the exception of Oscar, gasped. Anyone passing by would think the shoreline ended just beyond the tree branches. But the branches concealed a small cove. The shoreline was muddy and the woods beyond were rustling and dark, filled with animal cries. In the middle of the cove loomed a massive shape, bobbing slightly on the tide. It was Gray Claw's large sea plane, _The Cormorant_. "Told ya," whispered Oscar. "I saw it landing and followed it. It's the perfect opportunity." Ernie shook his head. "Why'd you come back for us? It might have taken off without you." Oscar looked at him through the raindrops that fogged his glasses. He looked surprised. "I couldn't go without saying goodbye to you guys," he said matter-of-factly. They rowed the dinghy to the shore line and moored it to the muddy bank, concealing it behind the curtain fall of a willow branch. "I wish I had my sketchpad!" Lars whispered, looking around him with a wild look in his eye. "We have to swim over," Oscar explained. "We can't risk the guards seeing the dinghy." "Guards?" Molly asked, crouched beside Kit with the others on the bank. "There," Oscar pointed. Sure enough, two silhouetted forms were visible on the plane, one standing on each wing. They appeared to be coyotes, each wearing a bandanna whose colors were obscured by the darkness. "How could they not see us come in?" Kit wondered. "They'd probably be expecting Shore Patrol, big boats, lights, guns," Winger said. "Not a little boat like ours." "C'mon, let's go," said Ernie. "Hold it." Kit put his hand on Ernie's arm. "How do we get past those guys?" "I have a plan," Oscar said with a grin. He gathered up a handful of mud and stones from the bank. "When I give the signal, swim for the plane." He drew back his arm, and threw the messy handful far into the woods, where it landed with a rustle-thud. On the plane, the two coyotes conferred with each other silently. One gestured at the woods. The other nodded. Then one leapt from the wing and waded to shore, holding his musket above his head. He vanished into the trees. The other one remained on duty, but on the wing opposite their hiding place. "Now," said Oscar. One by one, the Aces lowered themselves into the water and began swimming with careful, quiet strokes towards the plane. When they reached the pontoon on the unguarded side of the plane, Oscar pulled himself out of the water, then reached down for Molly. When all the Aces were huddled on the pontoon, the plane tilted a bit, but the remaining coyote on guard didn't seem to notice. They could hear the second coyote moving around in the woods, searching for hidden foes. Rain thudded hollowly on the wing above their heads. "Now what?" Ernie looked at Oscar. Oscar frowned, thinking. Kit looked up the side of the wet hull, and pointed to the faint rectangular outline. "There's a door right above us. We can get in through there, and hide in the cargo hold." "But the other pirate will hear us," S.R. hissed. "Only if one of us falls in and makes a splash," said Kit. "Winger, boost me up." The lion cub lifted Kit by the soles of his feet. Kit opened the door and fell inside, landing as quietly as he could. Then he lay half-in, half-out of the opening and reached down an arm. "Molly first, then S.R; they're light, I can lift them. Then the three of us can pull the rest of you up." "Thanks for not making me go home," Molly said as Kit pulled her inside. Her eyes were bright with excitement. "Yeah, whatever," Kit said, helping up S.R. Oscar went up next, then Winger, Ernie, Spot, and finally Lars. Kit carefully closed the door behind them, but didn't latch it firmly, not yet; slamming it would make too much noise. "They might notice something's up," Kit said, shaking his head. "But I don't see any way around it. We'll close the door as we take off so the sound of the engines covers the noise." The plane dipped slightly and they heard footsteps echoing on the wing as the second coyote returned. The Aces held their collective breath, then let it out in one rush. The night was quiet again. They were inside _The Cormorant_, undetected. ***** "Anything to report?" Gray Claw gestured invitingly with his good hand. Standing before him on the bridge of The Iron Vulture, the twin coyotes shook their heads, almost in unison. The steady drone of the giant propeller engines was a constant in the background, a hum of power. Outside the large portholes, charcoal clouds slid past, amorphous dark escorts for the massive airship. Wingnut had the helm, which had changed considerably since the ship's last captain had vacated the premises. An elaborate navigation device, only one part of which was recognizable as a sextant, rose in a complicated jumble of metal parts and complex angles from a large wooden base, as big around as a propeller on one of the pirate's small planes. Since the last captain had departed, Gray Claw had made certain that many such improvements were made. Dreams realized. The bulldog whistled a popular tune of the day to himself as he adjusted the rudder according to the heading that the ferret known as Slammer called out to him. Oni, a white ermine, had draped herself into the captain's chair as if she belonged there. Her long white legs hung over the armrest as she munched happily on a fresh kiwi fruit. She was dressed in a brown tunic, a scarlet silk belt, and high black boots. "You see, _mon ami_?" she said, tossing the rind of the kiwi into a basket beside her on the floor. "Everything ees a-okay, as they say in Cape Suzette." She pulled out the knife she kept in her boot and cut open another kiwi. "Really." He nodded at the coyotes, who scampered off with a twitch of their tails, looking for all the world as if they were seeking mischief. In reality, they were more likely seeking a hot meal. "_Oui, cheri_. You 'ave the Vulture, yes? Some of our recent...acquisitions..." she grinned, "'ave proven lucratif and no one was hurt. The officials on thee museum transport plane, they are no doubt unamused." Her foot began to bob up and down nonchalantly. "But you 'ave the jewel." "And your point is...?" Her foot stilled and she turned her attention away from the bright green flesh of the kiwi fruit to look up at him. "Why cannot you relax? Make jolly, like Wingnut, even he whistles." Gray Claw narrowed his eyes, but humor tugged at the corners of his mouth. The silver-furred wolf reached down with his strong hand and grasped Oni's ankles, removing her legs from the armrest of the chair. "You're lecturing me, Oni. _And_ you're sitting in my chair." "Ooh!" Oni scrambled to her feet, making a great show of acting terrified. "Will you throw me in the brig now, _mon capitain_?" From over by the helm came snorts of suppressed laughter from Slammer and Wingnut. When Gray Claw cast a stern eye in their direction, Slammer immediately went ramrod straight and saluted. Wingnut merely shrugged. A pout crossed Oni's pretty, white-furred face as Gray Claw sat down in his captain's chair and reached for one of the maps resting on the table nearby. "You have a point, _ma cherie_," he told her, studying the map. "But in my experience, it's just when everything seems to be going smoothly that trouble hits." ***** "Kit?" "Yes." "Is that your leg?" "Yes, and you're sitting on it. Get off." "I can't see anything!" "I'm hungry." "My foot's asleep." "I'm going to sneeze..." "Shhh...I don't hear anyone. I think it's okay to get out now." "I mean it, I'm really going to sneeze..." "Raise the lid and take a peek around." "I'm go-going to-to...AAAA-CHOOO!" Ernie's head hit the lid of the packing crate, raising it more quickly than they'd planned. "Ow!" Ernie exclaimed. "Shhh!" everyone else hissed. Kit and Oscar put their noses to the crack and peered out. They saw a stack of more packing crates, part of a steel wall, and nothing else. The cargo hull was silent and dark, half in shadow and half in the light cast by several light fixtures high up near the vaulted ceiling. Their breathing echoed in the vast space. Carefully, they raised the lid further. When no one shouted an alarm, Kit and Oscar climbed out of the crate. The others followed, and soon the Jungle Aces were standing in a tight cluster inside the hull of the Iron Vulture. "Wow," said Ernie, drawing the word out. He turned in a circle, looking around him. "So this is it. Finally." "The brig's down that way," Kit said, pointing to a shadowy opening in the wall. "Up there's the catwalk that leads to the crew quarters." "What's that funny noise?" S.R. asked, gripping her long ears with her hands. "That's the big propeller piston engines," Kit explained. "They're on the landing strip topside." "Landing strip?" Spot's eyes went absurdly wide in his skinny face. Molly was quiet, her motions cautious as she looked around, a very small figure in her yellow raincoat silhouetted against the vast, cavernous hold. She shivered once, convulsively. "It's cold." Kit touched her shoulder. "This isn't Don Karnage's ship anymore, remember, Molly? It's okay," he said. Molly smiled. Then Kit's eyes fell on her coat. "That's kinda bright. Maybe you should take it off and hide it somewhere?" Molly looked down at herself. "Oh," she said. "But..." she began wistfully; but then she noticed all the Aces watching her, waiting to see what she would do. The bear cub lifted her chin and pulled open the shiny metal snaps, then shrugged out of her coat. She folded it neatly and placed it inside the crate. "Where's Gray Claw?" Oscar started to walk towards the ladder leading up the catwalk. "Hold it." Kit's hand reached out and closed over the collar of his sweater. "Not yet. I think we should...hide out for a bit. Get to know the situation before Oscar announces himself." "Good point," said Winger. "You don't know what you're getting into, Oscar." "I'm with Kit," Lars said quickly. "Hiding's good." "I dunno," said Ernie. "I say we just walk right up to this Gray Claw and say 'hi, this is Oscar and he'd like to join your pirates.' Show him we're not afraid of 'im." The young hyena nodded decisively. "I hope you're being sarcastic," said Winger, "because that's the dumbest plan I've ever heard." "It's a good plan!" "You don't know what you're talking about." Winger moved closer to Ernie, looming over him. "Kit's dealt with pirates before. Lots of times. What about you? What do you know outside of your make- believe adventures?" "Make-believe!" Ernie's voice cracked in a strangled whisper. "That tears it," he said, and he leapt at Winger. Althought smaller than the lion cub, Ernie brought Winger down with the advantage of surprise. They thudded to the steel floor together, fists flailing. Winger slugged Ernie hard in the jaw. "Stop it!" Kit yelled, heedless of any attention his shout might draw. He grabbed Winger and pulled him off Ernie, while Spot and Lars pulled Ernie to his feet. Ernie's lip was bleeding and both he and Winger were breathing hard. "Just stop it!" "Guys..." said Oscar. "He started it. You heard what he said about the Aces. He said we-" "I don't care," said Kit. "I can't stand this fighting." "Guys..." "But we..." "Guys!" Oscar said sharply. They all turned to look at him as if they had forgotten he was there. "Somebody's coming!" They all froze. Sure enough, the thud of footsteps resounded from above. Someone was headed for the cargo hold to see what the commotion was about. "Quick. Follow me." Even before he had finished speaking, Kit had darted farther into the hold. He ducked around a stack of crates and stopped at the wall, where there was an iron grate. Making a fist, Kit banged the wall beside the grate and it popped open. "Wow, how'd you do that?" Oscar asked as they crawled, one at a time, into the air vent beyond. "Rigged it myself," Kit said without thinking. "We're lucky Gray Claw hasn't discovered it yet." "Rigged it?" said S.R. "When did you have time to rig it?" "I think it was when Don Karnage had him and Wildcat hostage that one time. Right, Kit?" Molly piped up quickly. "Oh, yeah. Yeah. I uh...got away for a bit, but then they caught me again." "Really?" said Oscar, crawling on his hands and knees behind Kit. Their voices echoed eerily in the square-walled shaft. "You never told me that." "There's lots I never told you," Kit muttered under his breath. No one heard him. ***** She awoke, tearing the sleep mask from her eyes, fully alert despite the feeling that she had been in a sound, deep sleep. Faint thunder rumbled softly in the distance as she sat up, her brown hair streaming down over the shoulders of her nightgown. Some preternatural sense had roused her. Rebecca had the oddest conviction that Molly had called out to her, that Molly needed her mother. Perhaps, sleeping in a strange place... The distant glow from the harbor lights barely reached in through the windows of the office. It granted only a faint illumination. Then there was a flash of lightning, and in its sudden flare she saw the small cot near hers, with a familiar, small lumpy shape beneath the blankets. Rebecca let out a sigh of relief and fell back against the pillows. "Molly?" she said, sitting up again and swinging her feet to the cold wooden slats of the floor. "Did the thunder frighten you, honey-" Her fingers stopped, frozen, as soon as they touched the sleeping lump. Sudden realization swept over her features. She yanked back the blankets, revealing the pillow and the ball of clothing stuffed underneath. "_Molly_!" The name escaped her lips as a choked cry, as the rain pattered hard on the windows and the walls. ***** He had been in the middle of a pleasant dream -- he could not remember what it had been, later -- when he felt someone roughly shaking him by the shoulder. "Baloo! Baloo, wake up!" "Wha -- ?" Licking his lips, Baloo sat up in bed and rubbed his hand over his face. "Wuzzat?" He managed to open his eyes fully and saw Becky standing by his bed like an apparition, a sleep mask hanging around her neck and her hair flowing loose. She had a wild look in her eyes. "Molly's gone!" He was wide awake now. "Kit's gone too," she added, her voice a staccato of terrified efficiency. "What?" he said stupidly. He rolled out of bed and when he looked at her frightened face again, he seemed to absorb her words, finally, all at once. He bolted past her onto the landing and flung open the door leading to the tower stairs, the name already rising from his chest in a penetrating bellow: "_Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!_" The tower bedroom was empty, the planes spinning from their strings in the draft brought by the storm. The bed and the pallet on the floor next to it were vacant save for pillows and clothes which Becky had apparently exposed; the blankets looked as if they had been hastily tugged off. Up here, the rain drummed on the roof like gravel. Baloo turned and bounded back down the stairs as quickly as he had come up. He almost slammed into Rebecca, who had been hovering nervously at the foot of the tower steps. "What could have happened to them?" She followed Baloo as he clattered down the wooden steps to the office. He was in red striped pajamas; neither of them had bothered to bring a robe. As Baloo flicked on the office lights, she suddenly remembered, and grabbed her robe, tying it tightly about her waist with shaking fingers. The light seemed harsh and glaring after the soft, stormy darkness. The big gray bear ran in a circle as if unsure what to do first. "Kidnapped! That's it...who...ran away...no...alien abduction..." "Kidnapped?" Rebecca repeated. She sat down suddenly into the armchair, and landed on something lumpy. It was a faded and tattered rag doll with golden hair, tucked forgotten into the crack between the cushions and the chair frame. Rebecca held the doll in both hands as she sat, staring down at it. "It's Molly's doll," she said flatly. "She's been lost for almost six months...Molly missed her for a while, but then she seemed to forget...she seemed more interested in other things, like her bike. I thought how grown up she'd become..." The calm in her voice broke into a rough sob. Baloo stopped running in circles. Something snapped into focus in his eyes. "It's gonna be okay, Beckers," he said, using the old nickname. He came over to her slowly and pried the doll from her fingers, then pulled her to her feet. His arms encircled her in a tight hug. "It's gonna be okay." For a moment Rebecca surrendered to the hug. "Oh, dear," she said, suddenly pulling back, sniffing hard, and wiping at her eyes with her fingers all at the same time. "Look at me. Getting all panicky when for all we know, they're just fine." Her voice had a forced, overly bright note to it that made Baloo wince. "I'm going out lookin' for 'em," Baloo announced, headed for the stairs so he could go to his room to get dressed and retrieve his keys. "No!" Rebecca grabbed the sleeve of his pajamas. He kept on marching determinedly and Becky, her feet on a small oval rug, slid flat-footed across the floor after him. "Baloo, listen to that storm. If you go flying off in The Sea Duck you might..." He wrenched free of her grasp. "Forget it, Becky. If Kit and Molly are out there in that storm, so am I." Rebecca watched him go upstairs. "You're right," she whispered, even thought he couldn't hear her. Then she turned and ran for the phone. ***** "Did you hear something?" Nobble stopped polishing his sword and looked up. "No. You're just jumpy." "I dunno, Hardtack. Widget said he heard something in the cargo hold, but when he checked it out, there was nothing there. You've heard what the boys are saying in the mess." It was a statement, not a question. The pirate began rubbing his sword with the cloth again, the sword resting across his knees. "What?" Hardtack folded his arms behind his head and let his hammock swing gently back and forth. Across his ample stomach a comic book lay spread open. "That the Vulture's haunted. That there's a phantom wandering the corridors." "Yeah. Right." Hardtack chuckled. "Hey, some of the boys claim to have seen it. Black, shadowy figure, gone like smoke as soon as you look at it." The lean, hungry-looking dog spit on his sword and kept polishing. "I'll believe it when I see it." Hardtack yawned and picked up his comic book. ***** "Wow, I can't believe the cook didn't even see us." Spot happily picked up a second slice of the cream pie they had filched, while Kit cut an apple into eighths. Winger and S.R. dozed in a corner of the unused storage closet, propped up against each other. S.R. had her head on Winger's shoulder. Molly was curled up on a pile of empty burlap sacks, but she wasn't asleep. She watched Kit thoughtfully. He finished cutting up the apple and handed her a slice. "Bet Becky and Baloo are worried by now," he said remorsefully. "Maybe I shouldn't have let you come." "Don't start, Kit," Molly said drily, and bit into her share of the apple. "Well, _I'm_ I'm glad you came along, Molly." Oscar, seated with his back against the pile of empty sacks where Molly rested, turned his head to grin up at her. Before she could reply, there was a commotion outside their hiding place. "Guys! Guys, you won't believe this!" Ernie flung open the closet door, Lars right on his heels. "Ernie, keep it down!" Kit reminded him. Then he saw how pale Lars was and the excited gleam in Ernie's eyes. "What happened?" "There's another stowaway on board." "What?!" Oscar leapt to his feet. S.R. and Winger awoke. While Winger yawned, S.R. crawled forward eagerly. "What's going on?" "Or maybe it's a ghost," Ernie suggested gleefully. Lars nodded silent agreement, then grabbed for the cream pie and quickly ate a slice, leaving a white mustache on his upper lip. "It was small and all in white. We just saw the flutter of robes as it vanished around the corner." "You think it was a ghost really?" Spot said, then looked around nervously. "Come on, guys," Winger said. "A ghost? Sounds to me like you got bored, Ernie, and wanted to liven things up." "We both saw it, brainless." Ernie's fists clenched. Kit stepped uneasily between Winger and Ernie. "Please guys, no more fights..." "It looked like a ghost," Lars insisted calmly. Winger shrugged and held out his hands. "Fine. You saw a ghost." Ernie glared at Winger. "That's right." "Okay." "Ghost or no ghost," said Oscar. "I can't wait around like this anymore. I'm not seeing what being a pirate's like. I'm sitting in a storage closet. What time is it, anyway?" S.R. peered at her watch. "Round midnight." She yawned. "This is so neat. I am up so far past my bedtime it's not even funny." "I say we go find Gray Claw now." "Um, I don't know, Oscar," Kit hedged. A shadow fell on them from the door, which Ernie and Lars had left open in their wake. The Aces jumped collectively. "Non, I theenk the boy is right. He must go see Gray Claw now." The white female ermine smiled at them in a feral manner. "'E is very strict on his stowaway policy." "Are you...are you a _pirate_?" S.R. asked, eyes widening as she took in the ermine's boots, tunic, scarf, and the sword at her belt. "_Oui, ma petite_." "I didn't think there were any female pirates." "Oh, zere are one or two of us. My name ees Oni. Zere is one lady who even leads her own pirate band, Jenny we call her." "Really?" Molly pushed forward, past Kit, and she and S.R. stared up at Oni worshipfully. They might have been meeting a movie star instead of a lady pirate. Oni laughed and ruffled Molly's hair. "_C'est vrai_. True. Now," she looked over the boys. "Do I have to be mean or will you come with me like good little children?" Her hand went to the pommel of her sword. "Lead the way, m'lady," Oscar said, and offered Oni his arm. "Ah! A gentleman." Oni's eyebrows arched as she accepted his arm. Oscar frowned. "I don't want to be a gentleman." "Oh, what do you want to be?" "A pirate." She didn't laugh. "I see." As the Aces followed Oni from the storage room like children trailing a schoolmarm, Winger said, "Hey, Oni, if I'm bad, will you use your sword -- " He never got to finish his sentence; the air left his lungs in a rush as S.R. elbowed him hard in the stomach. ***** "Well, isn't _this_ a delightful development." His good hand clasping his other wrist behind his back, Gray Claw strode back and forth before the Jungle Aces, his boots tapping on the metal floor of the bridge. He stopped before Kit, and turned. "I like you kid, I really do." He leaned down so he was eye-to- eye with the bear cub. "So how come you keep doing things like this to me?" Kit swallowed hard. "Uh...I can explain..." "Of course you can." Gray Claw gave him a final, resigned look and continued his measured examination of the Aces. They stood all in a row, dressed in their ratty sweaters, overalls, and faded wind slickers. Molly and S.R. stood together, Molly in a plain dress, S.R. in green overalls. Gray Claw turned to the girls next. "I suppose they're the Lost Boys?" he smiled at them, his arm sweeping out in a wide gesture down the line. "And here we have two Wendys? What do I look like, Captain Hook?" Molly and S.R. drew closer together, staring in awe at the silver-furred pirate grinning at them. The grin faded, as if he was suddenly aware how frightening his grin must be. Behind Gray Claw, Wingnut snickered, and Oni covered her mouth with her hand. The pirate captain's glance found Oscar Vandersnoot, standing very straight and at attention at the end of the row of cubs. The look of irritated sarcasm on his face changed to something else. His eyes widened. "Oni," he barked. "_Oui, mon capitain_?" she answered briskly, snapping to attention. "Please, please, tell me this cub is not who I think it is." "Well, I am afraid 'e is..." Gray Claw put his good hand to his face. His wolvish ears twitched forward and back. His shoulders heaved once, as if with a laugh or sob. The hand lowered. "Oscar Vandersnoot, I presume?" he said to the bespectacled bear cub. Oscar saluted smartly. "Y-yes sir!" "Son of Cape Suzette's leading family, etcetera, etcetera, heir to the vast Vandersnoot fortune and a prime candidate for brigands like us to KIDNAP?" The pirate's voice abruptly rose to a bellow. Behind him, his crewmembers flinched and the entire group of Aces jumped in unison. "All right, crew, listen up. I want all of these pint-sized stowaways off this ship before someone notices the Vandersnoot kid is missing. The last thing we need is the harbor patrol after us-and we didn't even actually kidnap him." "Perhaps we should ask _les enfants_ what they are doing 'ere," Oni suggested. When Gray Claw only growled, she came to stand beside him, facing Oscar. "_Mon petit_," she asked Oscar, "tell him what you told me." "Sir, I would like to be a pirate," Oscar said. Astonishment broke through Gray Claw's cool, annoyed expression. Then the corner of his mouth twisted up in a lopsided, bitter smile. "You wish to live the life of a nomad, then. No permanent home, no family...tossed here and there on the wind, making your living by stealing from others, feared at best and hunted at worst." "A life of adventure," Oscar countered immediately. "Where no one can tell you what to do and when to do it, where you get to see all kinds of interesting places, and you don't steal unless you absolutely have to, to survive...and you don't harm anyone, it's their riches you want, not their lives." Kit, his face without expression but his voice oddly tight, added, "He doesn't want to be the kind of pirate Don Karnage is. Was," he amended. "Oscar's met Don Karnage." "And you still want to be a pirate, kid?" Gray Claw said to Oscar. "You're not like Don Karnage." "Who says?" Gray Claw cocked his head to one side. "Everyone in Cape Suzette. And Kit." "Yeah!" Ernie burst out, finally working up the courage to speak. "Kit and Baloo have been chased by Don Karnage umteen jillion times and Kit says Karnage is really rotten, but Kit told us all about the time you helped Kit avenge his parents and later on you took Miz Cunningham prisoner but you were nice to her and even Baloo forgave you and you promised to never steal from The Sea Duck again and you've kept that promise, even when Baloo was carrying the gold statues of King Khomatose." "Like he said," Oscar added, adjusting his glasses. "Really. And did Kit tell you anything else?" Gray Claw's eyes shifted to Kit, briefly. Kit shifted uneasily, looked at Molly, whose mouth had formed a puzzled circle, then at Winger, who looked solemn. "Um..." Oscar seemed puzzled. "No, not really sir...just some stories about how Karnage tried to steal Baloo's shipments. Kit tells great stories!" "I see." He paused, while the dark night clouds slid by beyond the giant portholes. "Well, I'm impressed, actually. That's...how many of you...managing to hide from my men and stow away. How did you do it?" "We hid on The Cormorant after its last mission," Oscar said proudly. "It was my idea." "Slammer, see about tightening security next time," Gray Claw muttered, then resumed in a normal voice, "All right, Oscar Vandersnoot. If you promise to tell the harbor patrol and your parents that I did not, nor will I ever, kidnap you, you can stay for a little visit. But you are ALL going back in a few hours, got it?" The Aces nodded in unison. "And you _stay out of trouble_ and _don't touch anything._" Another joint nod. ***** Rain beat at the windows and the wind gusted around Higher For Hire's main building. Outside, the air was filled with harrowing creaks from the chains holding the sign over the dock. "...thank you have to keep this line clear bye!" Rebecca hung up the phone and made a check mark on the neat list she had written out on a tablet. "The harbor patrol hasn't seen them. I don't know who else to call! Baloo's already radioed Louie, and Louie's already put out the pilot search alert." She squeezed her eyes shut and massaged the lids with her fingers. The brisk set of her shoulders slumped. The figure seated quietly in the corner got up and came over to stand before her desk. "Miz Cunningham," Wildcat said, reaching out and putting a hand on her shoulder. "We've had lots of tight spots before. Kit and Molly have been okay after all of them. They'll come back." Becky slowly raised her head and looked at her mechanic. His shaggy mane was pulled back into a ponytail with an old rubber band. His coveralls were grease-stained. His face was terribly serious. It was unnatural. If even Wildcat looked so sober...but the mechanic's eyes were hopeful; whether it was from faith or naivete was one of Wildcat's many mysteries. Drawing a long, shuddering breath, she managed a smile. "Thank you, Wildcat. I'm sure it will be all right." "Sure!" Whistling cheerfully, he returned to his corner, where a disparate array of small pieces of machinery lay spread out on a little table. He played with something in his fingers, and Becky saw that it was not a bit of fan belt or a spring, but one of Molly's blue ribbons. Wildcat pocketed the ribbon, picked up a screwdriver, stuck his tongue out the corner of his mouth, and squinted at a cog. Rebecca dug her nails into her palm, and the tears retreated. Lightning flickered. With the next roll of thunder came a pounding on the door. Flinging herself from her chair, Becky raced to answer it as Wildcat's head swung up like a radar receiver. The chair fell to the floor with a clatter. Becky wrenched the door open, letting in a noisy gust of wind, a spatter of rain, and eight very wet grown-ups wearing raincoats and galoshes. "Oh!" Becky gasped. "It's you! You must be Spot's parents...and Lars'...S.R's...Ernie's...please, come in. Can I offer you some coffee?" "Yes, thank you," said Spot's mother, a tall, skinny ostrich in a shabby flower print dress. Her voice was extremely soft and gentle. Spot's equally skinny father merely nodded, his hand clutching the hand of a slender little female ostrich in blue jeans and ratty fisherman's sweater. The whole family looked worried but still managed to smile at the others. As if grateful for the activity, Rebecca threw herself into the role of hostess, helping the arrivals off with their coats and ordering Wildcat to pu on the coffee. "Terrible business, terrible," boomed Lars' father, putting his arm about his very stout wife. "Yes. Lars is so sensitive...I fear for him, out there..." Lars' mother gestured at the door, which was still swinging open in the wind. She wore a plain skirt and jacket and her hair was neatly coiffed even after she removed her rain hat. She was smaller than her husband, whose expansive personality as much as his physical presence made the office seem very cramped. Rebecca ran to the door and wrestled it shut against the wind. "Indeed." Lars' father turned to Becky. "And you, Miz Cunningham," he said heartily. "You must sit down, you look worn out." "Oh, yes, you poor dear," said Ernie's mother, guiding Becky to a chair. "You just let me get that coffee and don't worry about a thing." "That's my muffin," said Ernie's father, nodding as his pretty wife bustled around. He wore a gray trenchcoat and a brown hat. "You must be S.R.'s folks," he added, holding out his hand to the pair of rabbits who stood, a bit at a loss, dripping onto the rug. The rabbits shook hands with him. S.R.'s father was thin and studious looking, and wore glasses; his wife was dressed in overalls and boots, and her large, beautiful brown eyes were shadowed with worry. "Isn't this just terrible?" Spot's mother ventured softly. "First Harry losing his job at the plant, and now this..." she wiped away a tear. "Anna!" Harry whispered. "You aren't supposed to tell people about that..." "Nonsense!" Lars' father said heartily, slapping Harry on the back. "Times are tough. Nothing to be ashamed of. Important thing now is to find the children." Wildcat returned with a tray piled high with steaming mugs of hot coffee. He staggered across the room with them, yet managed not to spill a single drop. There was a low hum from outside that cut through the sound of the rain. It grew in intensity, and resolved into the distinct sound of a plane engine. There was a splash and the engine began to rev down. "Baloo!" Once again, Becky was out of her chair in an instant. She opened the door and ran outside. "Oh, my dear, not without your rain slicker!" Ernie's mother dashed after her, a raincoat slung over her arm. Becky reached the dock and skidded to a halt as she saw the gray seaplane moored there. The cockpit door popped open and a gray squirrel, fur streaked with silver, hopped out. He wore a fur-lined flight jacket against the wind and rain, and a brown pilot's hat. "Starfinder!" Concealing her disappointment, she ran to him and gave the squirrel a hug. "Hey, what's this? Only time old Starfinder gets a greeting like that is during a crisis? No fair." Becky pulled back and looked at him. His face looked worried, but he winked at her. "Of course we're always glad to see you. But I'm so glad you're here, I'm so scared..." "Where's Baloo?" "Out looking for the kids," Rebecca explained, as Ernie's mom fluttered about them and urged them back inside out of the rain. As they reached the door, a very elegant, long limousine pulled up and a stiffly-dressed pig chauffeur got out and opened the back door, holding up an umbrella. Mrs. Vandersnoot stepped out, a vial of smelling salts held to her nose. "Mrs. Cunningham," she said dramatically, hurrying over. The chauffeur did his best to keep up, struggling to hold the umbrella over her head. "That will be all for now, Porkins," Mrs. Vandersnoot dismissed him. "Very good, mum," Porkins said, and vanished back into the car. "Oh, Miz Cunningham, this is so dreadful. My poor little Oscar. What could have happened to him? It's that crowd he hangs out with...oh, no offense, of course," she said, noticing the others clustered inside the office. "Erm, no, of course," said Lars' father. "I've wired Cornelius...that's Oscar's father. He's in Timbukthree at a business conference," she added in a wilted voice. "Has there been any word?" She clasped her hands together and looked at Becky expectantly. "No...nothing yet, but I'm sure that..." Mrs. Vandernsoot fainted, falling backwards. Lars' father caught her. "Oh, dear," said Ernie's mom. "The poor thing. Quick, lay her down on the sofa." "Do you have hot chocolate?" Spot's little sister asked Wildcat, tugging on his coveralls. "Sure!" said Wildcat. "I'll get the hot water and brown crayons!" ***** "...and here we have the mess. Down that way," Gray Claw gestured to his right, "is the crew quarters, and I cannot _believe_ I'm standing here sounding like a tour guide." He gave Oscar a keen, sideways glance. "I could've had one of my crew do this, spectacles. Consider yourself honored." "Neat," said Oscar enthusiastically, for what was about the tenth time that night. It was hard to say if he was referring to the mess hall, or to Gray Claw's special treatment of him. His eyes were wide behind his glasses and he kept turning his head this way and that. "When Kit and me were on the Iron Vulture last time, I didn't get to see too much. Me an' Baloo went from the hangar to the brig, that's all." He spotted the gleaming new metal fixtures in the galley, and the newly crafted bins and compartments. "You fixed things up. All over, new railings and brighter lighting. It looks like you expanded the galley to hold more non-perishable food items, which makes it so you can go longer without having to dock anywhere to refill and makes you harder to catch. Karnage never thought of that." Gray Claw's lip curled in a sneer. "According to those who switched allegiance to me, the living with Karnage was high -- for about a week at any given time. The rest of the month they ate hard tack. Never saved anything. Never prepared. A hungry crew is a disloyal crew. There's dried fruit in there and about two hundred chocolate bars." The sneer broadened into a sudden grin. "The crew loves chocolate." "And I saw radio equipment back in the radio room that my Dad told me wasn't going to be on the market for three more weeks." "You're a bright kid." Gray Claw pushed open another hatch, his jaw tight. Oscar looked up at him nervously, pausing as Gray Claw held the hatch door open for him. "You...um...didn't steal the radio equipment, did you?" "Why do you ask? Is your dad a supplier?" "He owns the company that makes them." With a quick look at Gray Claw's rigid, sinewy arm Oscar scurried through the opening. "Ah. I see." Gray Claw followed the bear club and let the metal hatch bang shut behind them, leaving them in the half-light, half-darkness of a corridor lit only by phosphorescence from some hidden source -- another post-Karnage addition. The wolf hit a switch on the wall and electric lights came on. "So, did you?" said Oscar, his voice echoing off the metal walls. "They're floor samples," Gray Claw said in a cold, "that's final" tone. The corridor opened up into a shaftway traversed by a narrow catwalk. Oscar gulped and followed the pirate across, clutching the railings. A faint, dense machine-like hum filled the space. They reached the other side, went through another door, and passed through the sector holding the crew quarters. "You and your dad close?" "Yeah! He's the best!" Oscar's face lit up as if he were at an Usland Independence Day fireworks display. "He's easy to talk to and he's into radios and electronics and gadgets and telescopes and stuff...he says his company is funding a scientist with a big invention that's going to change the world forever, it's like movies, only right inside your house! And he gave me this amazing telescope so I could watch Galilion's Lights, only it broke, the telescope not the lights..." "Sorry to hear that. Can't he fix it?" Oscar shook his head. "He's away on business. He's _always_ away on business. Mom's no fun at all, she gets hysterical over every little thing and doesn't want me to go anywhere or do anything, she's always worried. And the only others around are the servants and they're no fun, either, they just do what Mom tells 'em." "Must be nice, having someone worrying about you..." Gray Claw said very softly. "What?" "Nothing." "Sometimes I feel like a prisoner at home," Oscar confessed, pushing up his glasses. "That's why you're here?" "Home's boring. I want to see different places and go on adventures!" "Adventures," Gray Claw echoed drily, pausing to look out a porthole. Thunder rumbled faintly from outside, drowing out the engine hum, and the sky was a roiling soup of darkness blackness and rain. "Is that what you think we do?" "I know you're pirates," Oscar said seriously, standing on tiptoe to peer out the porthole. "But you're not like Karnage -- I heard you weren't and now I see you're not. You're nice." "Nice!" Gray Claw barked a single, short laugh. "Nice." "What I _mean_ is," Oscar added, looking insulted, "is that you don't hurt people." The pirate fingered the tuft of fur at his chin. "No. No, I try not to. The crew has strict orders. But those orders aren't always obeyed." He held his good hand, claws extended, down to Oscar. "There's blood on this, kid." Oscar's eyes went wider, but he said nothing. "Still..." Gray Claw raised his hand and clapped the cub on the back, causing him to stagger. "You're right, being a pirate has its advantages, and being a pirate who doesn't like to kill makes the harbor patrol a bit less hungry to put your neck in irons. But Oscar, you don't belong here. You have a family, you're a...uh, nice kid. Looks like you've got plenty of book learning. You can do better than this." The wolf turned and strode forward without looking back. "But..." Oscar protested, trotting after him to keep up. "Ask your buddy Kit what I'm talking about." "Kit? Kit's had adventures. But what does _Kit_ know about being a _pirate_?" ***** "I gave him the ten-cent tour," Gray Claw said, leaning back in the velvet upholstered armchair in his quarters. He tilted back farther, using the wall for support, the front legs of the chair leaving the floor. "I told him he wasn't cut out for this life. He wouldn't listen to me. You'll have to talk to him." Kit sat very comfortably in a massive wooden chair that looked as though it had been pilfered from Eastminster Abbey. Its dark bulk seemed to dwarf Kit, who had one knee drawn up, foot resting on the seat. "I tried. He won't listen. I thought if he saw the Iron Vulture and your crew he wouldn't want to stay." Kit picked at a tiny knothole with one finger, not meeting Gray Claw's eyes. "Kit, I can't let him stay. Break it to him gently, okay? You're his best friend." "Yeah." Gray Claw languidly reached over to the table and lifted a metal flask. He poured some liquid into two wooden cups and held one out to Kit. "What is it?" Kit said suspiciously. Gray Claw chuckled. "Apple cider." He held up his mangled hand. "Pirate's honor. No, wait, sorry. By the code of the Jungle Aces." The cub took the cup and swallowed. He licked his lips. "Hey, not bad. You should sell some to Louie's." "Where do you think I got it?" Kit took another long draught. "So, when were you planning on telling them?" Cider sprayed from Kit's mouth as he began to cough. Gray Claw brought the chair legs to the floor with a bang and patted Kit on the back. "_What_?" Kit gasped, as his coughing gradually died out. "You know what. They trust you. They look up to you. And you lied to them." "It's not a lie, not exactly..." Kit took another cautious swallow. "Molly knows, and Winger," he added defensively. "Even worse. When the others find out, they'll know you trust some people and not others. That may be good leadership skills in my line of work, but not in your world, kiddo." "I'm not the leader, Ernie is." "That's what you think." "Look!" Kit jumped out of the chair and banged the cup down on one of the broad, flat arms. "Mind your own business! You don't understand! The Aces...well, they might like a pirate like you, but I wasn't one of _your_ pirates. I was one of Karnage's. But I'm not any more. It's over. Just forget it, okay? I have." "Oh, you _have_." Gray Claw took a swallow, wiped his mouth with his sleeve, and set his cup down. Kit, reaching the door, turned and spoke in a hard voice, his brows darkening. "I don't want to talk about it, okay?" "Oooh, you're scary." Gray Claw held out his arms in mock defense. "I'd forget the tough-guy routine if I were you. It doesn't suit you." Shoulders stiff, Kit turned and stomped out of the room, deliberately letting the metal door slam behind him. Alone in the silence that resonated in Kit's wake, Gray Claw leaned back in his chair again and raised his cup in a salute. "Run all you want, kid. Sooner or later, it will catch up with you." ***** The storm continued to roar. There weren't enough chairs in the Higher For Hire office, so Rebecca, Starfinder, Wildcat, and Ernie's parents sat on the wooden steps leading up to the second floor. Seated cross-legged on the rug, Spot's little sister turned the pages of one of Kit's comic books in a desultory fashion. The other adults occupied chairs, with Mrs. Vandersnoot draped limply into the big armchair while S.R.'s mother fanned her with a magazine. Suddenly, the door opened, framing a heavy-set figure against the rain and sudden glare of lightning. Everyone started and there were a few small gasps of surprise. But Becky leapt down the steps, narrowly missing Starfinder's bushy tail, and flung herself at the arrival. "Baloo!" She hugged him, heedless of how damp he was, then stepped back and looked at him. Slowly, he shook his head, then noticed how many were in the office. He pulled off his hat and wrung it out, water puddling at his feet. "Oh, hi folks," he said, polite and glum. "Did you...anything yet, Baloo?" Spot's father asked softly. "Nothin' yet," Baloo said, averting his eyes. "But after I've had _a-a-ACHOO_! hot cup of something I'll..." "I don't think so, buster," Becky said, shutting the door firmly behind him. She put her palm on his shirt. "You're soaked and you look exhausted." "But Becky, Kit an' Molly..." he looked around at the faces of the Jungle Aces' families. "All the kids are out there. I have to keep on..." "We've called the harbor patrol," Becky said, gratefully accepting the hot mug of coffee Ernie's mother handed to her. She promptly pressed it into Baloo's big, damp hand. "Drink it," she ordered. Baloo took a few sips, then started to turn. "I'm sorry, but I gotta-" "Oh, no you don't!" Starfinder leapt down the steps, tail streaming out behind him, and placed himself between Baloo and the door. "I've got a plane. It's my turn. You think just 'cause a squirrel's got a few gray hairs he can't be part of the search party." He grunted, then added, mumbling as he opened the door to the storm, "Besides, _my_ boy's out there too." ***** "Hey, Kit, where've you been?" Ernie said. Kit joined the others at one of the long wooden tables in the mess. He shrugged and eyed the food Gray Claw had generously provided them. Winger and Lars stuffed biscuits and gravy into their mouths as they listened to Oscar eagerly recount his tour of the ship. Spot rummaged through an icebox, his head lost to view inside. "Aw, rats!" he exclaimed, voice muffled. "They don't have any Frosty Pep!" Molly burst into the room at top speed, S.R. a few paces behind. Conversation came to a shocked halt. A bit of biscuit fell from Ernie's surprised, open mouth. Spot pulled his head out of the icebox. "I saw it!" Molly's voice squeaked in her excitement. She struggled to catch her breath, her hair ribbons askew and dangling. "Saw it?" Kit got to his feet. "Molly, what happened? Are you ok-?" "The phantom!" Molly crowed. "The phantom?" several voices echoed. S.R. took a deep breath and added, "Yeah, she says she saw something. Molly was behind me -- we'd just left Oni's quarters -- you guys should see her _clothes_ -- and she screamed. Molly, that is, not Oni, and said she saw the phantom." Instantly the boys clustered around the girls, firing off questions. "It was tall," Molly answered. "All in black, with black pants and shirt and a mask..." "Huh?" Ernie interrupted. "No. The phantom's real short and has fluttering white robes." "Like a ghost," Lars added dramatically. Molly frowned. "It was all in black," she said firmly. Lars put his finger to his mouth and his eyes became dreamy. Then the hippo pulled a broken bit of charcoal pencil and a folded sheet of paper from his pocket. "For emergencies." He unfolded the paper and spread it flat on the table. With deft movements, he began to sketch. At first the lines looked almost random, a curve here, a curve there. Then in a few more strokes, a vivid representation sprang to life, a small figure in flowing robes. "Did it look like that?" Lars held the paper up before Molly. She shook her head. "No. It was taller. And it wasn't wearing robes." "Oh, this is confusing," S.R. moaned, clapping her hands over her eyes. "Not really," Oscar said thoughtfully. The others turned to stare at him. "Isn't it obvious?" "What, that you've lost your mind?" Ernie snapped. "No. That there are _two_ phantoms haunting this ship." **** "Doesn't surprise me at all, a craft like this being haunted." The old collie nodded sagely. "I've been a pirate since before my fur turned gray. Karnage was a nasty one, though I've seen worse. He built this ship, and did many dark deeds aboard it. This phantom, it's nothing but the ghost of one of his victims, some poor lost soul." "Okay, okay, Redfang. What're you trying to do, scare the kids to death?" Redfang grinned, flashing the teeth he was famous for, and walked away. Nobble turned back to the Aces. "Some of the boys have seen it. A tall, dark, shadowy figure." "See?" Molly said smugly. "No, it was small," another pirate piped up, pulling his head out of the complex juncture of pipes where he was working. He wiped his hands on an already oil-stained cloth as Gibber came over to him and whispered in his ear. "It was tall and dark, you say?" said the oil-stained pirate. "You're short as a spark plug." Gibber whispered in his ear again. The pirate's eyes widened. "Oh, yeah?" Gibber whispered again. "Well, so's your mother!" "Knock it off, you two. You want me to report you to Gray Claw?" "Come on, guys," Kit said, as the three started arguing, Gibber racing back and forth to whisper in his comrades' ears. "I think the interrogation is over." The Aces followed Kit from the hangar and through a hatch. "I know what we have to do," Oscar said, stopping to face the others. "We have to catch that phantom. I mean phantoms." "How are we gonna do that?" said Ernie. "We split up. Kit, Molly, you go that way. S.R., you and Ernie will go back through the hangar and start looking from there. Winger, Spot and Lars can take the crew quarters. Try to restrain the phantom if you can. Report back here in one hour." "Wait a sec," Kit said. "Who are you going with?" "I'm not going yet. I need to talk to Gray Claw. I don't think he's going to let me be a pirate." Oscar frowned. "He's not," said Kit shortly. "Hey, no guts, no glory," Oscar called out, jogging away down the passage. ***** Kit and Molly slowly climbed the ladder, Molly in the lead. Her foot slipped, and Kit steadied her with one hand. "Careful," he said, in his stern big-brother voice. "I _know_," Molly snapped. Then she added, "Thanks." She pulled herself onto the next level and turned to help up Kit. "Let's try this way," she said, pointing towards an intricate set of catwalks spanning a shaftway. The hum of the engines was loud there. "No, here. Through this passage. There's a lot of storage space down that way. Lots of places to hide." "And how come we always go the way _you_ want to go?" Molly's stance changed so that she appeared to be trying to dig her feet into the floor. Kit stared at her. "Do we?" "Yes. You think I'm just a little kid with no opinions..." "Uh, no, you've got plenty of those, Molly," Kit said, rolling his eyes. "...or whose opinions don't count! _Oscar_ listens to me," she said, giving Kit a sidelong glance. "Fine, so go hang out with Oscar," Kit said with an elaborately casual shrug. "Why tag along after me all the time?" " 'Tag along'?" Molly's cheeks turned light pink. Her chin went up and her features hardened. She suddenly looked very much like her mother. "All right for you, Kit Cloudkicker. You can look for the phantom by yourself. You didn't want me to come on this mission in the first place." "Molly, no...I just..." Molly shoved past him, striding towards the maze of catwalks. She suddenly stopped short, and screamed. Immediately Kit turned, then raced past her. He had also seen the flutter of white. "It's him! I mean it! It's the phantom! I mean, not the one I saw before, the other one!" Molly hopped up and down with excitement, then raced after Kit. END PART I To be continued...