MiSTers Notes: I have known John Nowak for a number of years. John Nowak, the original author of this piece, is a dark and gloomy soul. When the wind of liberation blew over this globe early in this decade, when the Berlin Wall and apartheid crumbled and the skies rang with the laughter of those dancing on the rubble, he was heard to say, "I know this is going to turn out badly. People are just too happy." The light of love, joy, and laughter pains him, and he shrinks from it.

If his life and career are examined, there is nothing that justifies this. He should be more optimistic, but he isn't; he shouldn't have written a Rescue Rangers story, but he did.

It must be admitted, however, that his grammar is acceptable.

-- John Nowak

As for being the co-conspirator on this MiSTing, I found it a strange experience, for I actually enjoyed the original quite a bit. So, the question became "Can Joel and the Bots actually read a good fanfic without tearing it apart?". Naturally, they can't, but that really wasn't a hard question to begin with.

In any case, I hope the fans of the story are as open-minded about it as John was, seeing as how he initiated the MiSTing.

-- Matt Plotecher

[1...2...3...4...5...6...SoL]

[The SoL set is bedecked with large flowers made of construction paper, and books by Beverly Cleary. Joel holds a popsicle. Crow wears a Buster Brown suit, holds a lollipop, and looks murderous. He is not enjoying this.]

JOEL: Hi, everybody. We've been feeling a little depressed recently and so I've declared this Happy Innocence Day.

CROW: [mumbling] It was his idea.

JOEL: Just work with me on this, buddy; you'll get into it.

[CROW mutters darkly. TOM appears, dressed as Totoro. He carries a sheaf of paper in his hands.]

JOEL: And here's Tom Servo, to read from his favorite author!

CROW: [hopefully] Herman Hesse?

TOM: [laughs] No, no, my little man. I have instead chosen selections from the late, great Theodore Geisel.

CROW: Who?

JOEL: Doctor Seuss. [JOEL beams.]

CROW: Tom, buddy - not you too!

[Spotlight on TOM SERVO. He clears his throat. Throughout TOM's speech, JOEL looks entranced and CROW looks disgusted.]

TOM: This is from Geisel's first screenplay, which was made into a film between the end of World War Two and before his first book. The title is:

Hitler Lives!

[CROW turns his head to look at TOM, more interested. JOEL flinches.]

JOEL: ...The hell?

TOM: [reading from his script] "If you look upon your brother and you hate him for the color of his skin or his creed, then Hitler lives in you -"

JOEL: [slightly frantic] Tom, Tom... while agreeing with the sentiment, I don't think you quite understand -

TOM: What, Joel?

JOEL: ...I mean, my respect for Doctor Seuss has gone to a higher level, but -

TOM: [exasperated] Then what?

[JOEL is deeply troubled while the bots look at him expectantly. There is a pause. The message light starts flashing. JOEL smiles and slaps the control.]

JOEL: [grinning] Thank you, sirs.

[GIZMONICS: FORRESTER's face fills the screen. The fact JOEL has thanked him deeply startles him. FRANK races across the screen behind him, swatting panic- stricken at a belt pouch he wears which is emitting smoke.]

FORRESTER: Uh... our invention exchange is still undergoing tests. You go first.

[JOEL and the BOTS on the SoL. JOEL takes out a prescription bottle.]

JOEL: Well, sirs, I've been having some trouble sleeping recently, so my doctor faxed me these pills. I happened to notice there's a warning label on them. [reads label] "Caution: May Cause drowsiness."

[GIZMONICS]

FORRESTER: You are kidding, aren't you?

[SoL: TOM holds a can of coffee; CROW holds a credit card, GYPSY a paperback book.]

JOEL: Not a bit, sir. So we came up with other, equally useful, warning messages.

TOM: Coffee: contains caffeine, an addictive stimulant.

CROW: Warning: credit cards allow you to spend money without cash.

GYPSY: Dostoevsky's The Brothers Karamazov: May cause you to question your core assumptions about the relationship between Man and God.

[Pause]

CROW: Good one, Gypsy.

[GIZMONICS: FRANK stumbles next to FORRESTER. He holds a pair of tongs with a smoking belt pouch between them.]

FORRESTER: Nice try at making a joke sound like an invention exchange.

FRANK: It almost melted my hip, Dr. F.

FORRESTER: Oh. Well, file an incident report. Invention can cripple user. Severity 1, since it stops executing; Priority 5, because I don't really care.

FRANK: Yes, sir.

FORRESTER: Your experiment today is a fanfic based on a show even Disney has stopped milking for profits. Under the Bridge, a fan's idea of an adventure with Chip 'n' Dale's Rescue Rangers. Read it through polarized lenses.

[SoL: JOEL smiles affably.]

JOEL: Well, sirs, no matter how wretched the writing or how poor the grammar,at least it'll be light-hearted fun.

[GIZMONICS: FRANK and FORRESTER look at one another, back at the camera, and smile.]

FORRESTER: Perfect.

[6 ... 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... Theater]

Under the Bridge

ALL: [singing] And through the woods to Grandmother's house we go...

Chapter One : Pertaining to Gastroscopes

"So what exactly is a gastroscope anyway?"

JOEL: And why are they putting one on the Hubble?

It was breakfast time, and the latest issue of Technophile had arrived for Gadget Hackwrench, delivered as usual by special courier. Most of her attention was devoted to the glossy pages, still warm from the press. Her right hand, holding a spoon, was shoveling the contents of a bowl into her mouth. So engrossed was she that she had not yet noticed that the bowl had been emptied long before. Chip understood that to break through that wall, conversational gambits would either need to

appeal to her generous nature or

give her a chance to show off.

TOM: Okay, since when has Gadget been rude enough to read at the table?

JOEL: If that's as bad as this gets, I'll be happy.

TOM: One hundred seventeen words, and nothing misspelled. This'll be a snap.

"A gastroscope," she said, "is a flexible fiber optic tube they run into someone so they can see his insides."

JOEL: See, this fanfic instructs and entertains!

CROW: I've got to admit I like an occasional dose of technobabble.

Chip waited expectantly for her to cap the statement with a question showing polite interest. "Why this talk of gastroscopes, Chip?" or something similar. Dale looked up from his food, over at Gadget, over at Chip, and shook his head without a word.

TOM: So Dale has no vocabulary?

JOEL: It's not surprising.

"I ask," Chip continued doggedly, "because the hospital reported one stolen last week." He paused, waiting in vain for a response.

CROW: You know you're in trouble when your own characters can't be bothered with the plot.

"One of the Human hospitals by the East River. The storage room door was locked but there was a recently cut mouse hole in the ceiling. Why would an animal steal a gastroscope sized for Humans?"

JOEL: I have the awful feeling we're going to find out.

"I think someone's looking for someone inside of a cat," Dale said, his words slow.

CROW: Sounding each one out in his head before saying it.

"They'll return it once they've found him."

"Dale," Chip asked, concerned, "Does it hurt to think like you? What do you think, Gadget?"

But Gadget had reached the centerfold. It was a cutaway diagram of an aerospike engine and she didn't hear him.

CROW: ...A crimson blush spread over her features, as her lithe body began to tremble.

TOM: Care-ful...

"Don't bother, Chip lad," Monterey Jack said sadly. Reasoning that if Gadget was still eating (sort of) she was probably hungry, he ladled more breakfast into her bowl. It was a porridge of cheese in cheese sauce. The sound Gadget's spoon made was changed slightly - from a clatter to a plop -- but there was no other indication of the fact she was now actually eating.

JOEL: We've replaced Gadget's ordinary breakfast with the gunk Monty scraped off the grill last night. Let's see if she notices.

He shook his head in mock sorrow and lay a gentle, but massive (for a mouse) paw on her head. She didn't notice.

TOM: Not even when he bashed her head into the table.

"She's left us an' won't be back for some time. Her father used to hide Technophile until after meals."

CROW: [MONTY] ...when she could sneak up to her bedroom without bein' too bloomin' obvious...

JOEL: Strike one.

CROW: Darn.

TOM: Told ya.

"Could I have more?" Dale asked, passing his bowl over to Monty.

CROW: [MONTY] Oliver, we've discussed this already.

Monty spooned him another serving.

"Careful," Chip chided. "You'll get fatter," giving an unpleasant emphasis on the "ter."

"I'm not fat."

"Are too."

"Am not!"

"Are too!"

They continued in this vein. Zipper the fly

CROW: As opposed to who? Zipper the moose?

closed his eyes and buzzed at Monty.

TOM: With mealtime conversation like this, it's no wonder Gadget is off in her own little world.

CROW: The Rescue Rangers need to watch "A Date With Your Family".

"Yes, Zipper," Monty said. "It appears we two are the only ones left..."

His voice trailed off as a cold, familiar shiver was running up his spine and out his mustache;

CROW: Ah, Zipper dropped a piece of ice down Monty's back again.

instinctively, he darted a glance at the nearest body of water - which in this case, was the sink. There was nothing unusual.

JOEL: Any monsters in the sink?

TOM: Nope.

JOEL: Under the bed?

TOM: Nope, but there are these scratches...

Monty laughed to himself and made his first major mistake of the day.

TOM: Getting out of bed?

There was not a periscope in the sink, he thought. That would be absurd.

TOM: Guys, I can't make it over the scene separator.

===

[JOEL lifts TOM over the equals signs.]

Jürgen jerked the gastroscope down. "Close," he said grimly.

CROW: [WOLF] But...no cigar!

Jürgen was of average size (for a mouse), thin, and wore the same white sweater and black pants as his crew. The only thing that marked him as skipper of the Albacore was a white captain's hat, now worn backwards

JOEL: I'm having trouble picturing a Hip Hop naval officer.

CROW: He's probably got an "X" on the hat.

to keep the visor from pressing against the eyepiece. He straightened while adjusting his hat.

"I don't think he saw it," he told the Gray Mouse.

Jürgen did not know her real name. She was tall (for a female mouse), about his own height. Long gray hair, white fur,

JOEL: So in point of fact, she is a white mouse.

TOM: This message brought to you by the Nomenclature Council.

pink eyes.

CROW: That's really contagious. She should go home.

She was actually rather attractive, apart from her aura of evil and death.

JOEL: "Aura of evil and death." This is the Rescue Rangers and we have someone with an "aura of evil and death"?

TOM: I swear, if anyone pops claws out of their hands...

She wore what resembled a black wetsuit, with a matching waist length cloak fastened in the middle of her throat, draped over her left arm, around her back and on her right shoulder, leaving her right arm free. Her breathing mask was pushed up to the top of her head.

CROW: Fashions by George Lucas.

Considering she was the designer and builder of Albacore,

ALL: Baltimore!

the scuba gear she constantly wore did nothing for morale. Jürgen never brought that up with her.

"If he did, he'll pass it off as a flashback from naval air duty during the war," she said.

ALL: [Shocked silence]

JOEL: Monty has post traumatic stress syndrome?

TOM: From serving in the Navy ?!

CROW: DURING THE WAR!?

JOEL: I'm starting to dislike this fanfic, guys.

"How long can we stay here?"

CROW: How long can you hold your breath?

Jürgen sighed. The Gray Mouse had never overreacted to bad news yet, but

TOM: She had been meaning to start.

nobody particularly wanted to be the first to set her off.

JOEL: Well, I can see how you'd be nervous about a boss who won't tell you her name.

"Ma'am, our air supply is down to 5% of maximum. I suggest we leave the sewer and replenish soon. We can come back if you think it best."

The Gray Mouse's ears perked, annoyed. "We can surface any time."

"Ma'am," Jürgen said stiffly, "we do not want to breathe the air out there." Around the bridge, crewmen shook their heads firmly in agreement with their captain.

TOM: Hints for writers: a shake means no. A nod means yes.

A few seconds passed. The Gray Mouse turned away reluctantly. "Very well. As you think best."

Jürgen nodded briskly and touched the visor of his hat. He turned towards the bow, where a young officer bat stiffened to an alert position. "Mr. Fenton, you may resume active pinging."

JOEL: This is a "DuckTales" crossover?

TOM: Maybe "Kevin and Kell".

"Sir," saluted Fenton. He turned to the sonically transparent panel in the front of the bridge, next to the helmsman. "PING!" he yelled, and listened expectantly. "PING!"

TOM: And then, for variety's sake, went "Pong."

"Retract the gastroscope. Blow tanks one and four. Let's not hit any alligators on the way out."

Albacore

ALL: Tuna!

was mostly a large hot water heater, with a welded bow and PumpJet astern based on an old washing machine. Unusually for a submarine, Albacore had a fully enclosed bridge, which served as a control room - the confusion between the terms was something Jürgen blamed on Star Truck.

TOM: And the distinction between "control room" and "bridge" is So Important to our plot.

Large saw blades ran from bow to the top of the forward part of the bridge, and along the sides and bottom of the bow. The blades would cut fishnet and gave the black vessel a strangely familiar appearance.

JOEL: That submarine looks like [XXXXXX XXX XXXX]!

CROW: In the interests of National Security, the name of that cartoon character is classified.

TOM: The Tacit Blue sketch, ladies and gentlemen.

Someone out in the water would have seen air bubbles emerge from the Albacore's bow and stern and the boat gently leave the bottom of the sewer, assuming they could see through the gross and slimy water.

JOEL: Thank you. With that little mental image I do believe I am ready to

attack my day.

"All ahead one third."

"Ahead one third aye."

CROW: "One third aye" would be "a".

"Very well."

The Gray Mouse watched the activity with mingled pride and sorrow. Every word of command and action was directed towards using the product of her own genius and labor; but at the same time she realized Jürgen could command and use her

CROW: [voice trembling] Oh, yes...

invention

CROW: [disappointed] Oh.

far better than she ever could.

[All cough and whistle innocently.]

The crew would follow him; they would not follow her. Maybe it's because he projects a desire to live, she thought. Or something.

CROW: Although I've never served in the Navy I imagine I'd much prefer a commander who wanted to live.

"Mr. Calvert,

TOM: Calvert?

CROW: HA HA!

JOEL: What?

TOM: Don't you get it?

JOEL: Uh... yeah. I was just kidding. Calvert. Heh.

make certain our present location is marked on your map." Jürgen raised his voice slightly.

"Yes, sir," chimed Mr. Calvert, a young squirrel.

TOM: So this is what Tammy's father does for a living.

The order was probably meant to reassure her that the purpose of their mission had been carried out; but it was too obvious Mr. Calvert had things well under control, that Jürgen knew it, and the order was given for her benefit. The knowledge she was observing a partnership she was not and could never be part of washed over her, as the engines she designed rumbled with power and spun her turbine in her PumpJet and moved them gently forward.

JOEL: Y'know, if you're feeling left out sometimes sharing your name with people you work with helps.

"Mr. Jürgen, I will be in my meditation chamber."

JOEL: "Empire Strikes Back" reference.

TOM: Check.

Jürgen paused and nodded respectfully. The Gray Mouse turned on her heel, making her cape snap dramatically. She stepped onto a circular elevator, which began to sink. Light from the room below lit her, making her look sinister. Which, of course, was the point.

CROW: At least this evil mastermind is honest enough to admit it.

It's always a mix, isn't it? She thought. Never joy without sorrow.

TOM: At least, not in one of Nowak's fanfics.

No, not true. One thing brings me unsullied pleasure.

JOEL: No comment.

The thought of the goal she would soon reach played across her face. Mr. Calvert saw the Gray Mouse smile. He blanched and had nightmares for weeks.

CROW: I understand that when your boss's smile gives you nightmares, it's time to change your job.

JOEL: Great. Now you tell me.

Chapter Two : Breakfast and The Temple of Hate

JOEL: Hey, I stayed there once. It's near Chicago.

Gadget finished the last page of an article titled "Affection for Machines is Healthy and Normal."

CROW: "Unless You're a Mouse."

Feeling reassured, she looked up, blinking with surprise when she noticed she was alone at the table. Monty was cooking a second course of breakfast. She felt a bit hungry, and was looking forward to more. Odd of the others to leave so early.

"The first course was delicious, Monty," she said, "I could eat two bowls. What are you cooking now?"

"Lunch, luv."

ALL: [Rimshot]

Gadget blinked. "Omigosh. Don't tell me I zoned out."

Monterey shook his head. "I won't."

"Did I miss anything?"

Monty looked at her solemnly. "You got engaged."

CROW: [MONTY] With the chipmunks gone, I get the good lines.

"Uhm, I'd remember that," she deadpanned, "I'm almost sure."

TOM: Given how you've been written so far, I just don't know...

Monty flipped a cheese flapjack, grinning. "Chip thinks an animal stole a gastroscope."

Gadget blinked. "From a Human hospital?" Chip was most worried about crimes committed by animals on Humans, because he was afraid a Human investigation would stumble across the animal civilization which had grown along side of theirs.

JOEL: Think that's a plot point?

TOM: Probably not.

CROW: I'm just wondering what the sudden deal is with capitalizing the "h" in "human". Have the Rangers become Ferengi suddenly?

Monty turned, concerned. "Yes. Does that ring a bell?"

ALL: [bark]

"No, but it's weird. I mean, maybe a cat would use it to look down a mouse hole, or something, but..." she trailed off and looked thoughtful.

Monty shrugged. If she came up with an idea, she'd let them know.

TOM: Any chance they'll let us in on it?

===

CROW: If you're using a Courier font, both lanes can pass.

The Gray Mouse's meditation chamber was done in a style Jürgen thought of as "Temple of Hate." Defaced life sized photographs and posters lined the walls - all with the same disfigured face. A name, written upside down over and over again in dripping red paint, shortened by one letter each time.

JOEL: Did he know about this before he agreed to work for her?

CROW: [JÜRGEN] I've always wanted to work for a psychopathic killer.

The Gray Mouse stood before a life sized PVC figurine in a hydraulic press, watching as the plates moved together, grinding and crushing the effigy.

TOM: I'll bet a collector would pay a lot for those.

Like a watermelon seed between two fingers, the head shot out across the room; reflexively, Jürgen put out his hands and caught it, stinging his paws.

"Darn," she said to herself. "Too fast."

CROW: See? She's not a typical evil megalomaniac - she works at it.

JOEL: Yes. Laudable.

Jürgen cleared his throat gently, tucking the plastic head under his arm. "My apologies for intruding."

"Jürgen, I've only got about a dozen of these left."

TOM: Hey, I'll buy a few from you.

"Should we go back to Orlando soon?"

"No. Very soon I won't need any more." She smiled. Peace at last.

TOM: Then you'll have some to spare? Great!

"Perhaps even sooner than you think."

The Gray Mouse turned her pink eyes towards Jürgen. "You have good news?"

CROW: Look, honey, I don't think anyone's going to be falling over themselves to bring you bad news. I really don't.

"Mister Fenton heard a cruise ship approaching. Animal, not Human. We can intercept it within the hour."

TOM: [worried] So... animals build cruise ships?

JOEL: Seems like it.

Slowly, the Gray Mouse smiled. Inured by long experience, Jürgen merely shuddered. "The screams and terror of the innocent passengers will draw my friend irresistibly towards our fated rendezvous," she mused, gesturing towards the pile of broken plastic in the press. "Providence is with me," she said gently.

TOM: [JÜRGEN] Yes, ma'am. Oh, over there in the corner, there's a bit of the scenery you haven't chewed yet.

"And we won't have to risk assaulting their base," Jürgen pointed out. "We'd almost certainly lose some crew." The Gray Mouse blinked, turned to her File Cabinet of Doom, and searched for a folder. She withdrew a sheet of paper and handed it to Jürgen.

"Before this begins, I'd like you to read this."

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Oh God, not more poetry...

TOM: Birdie, birdie, flying high,

Why do you make me want to die?

Jürgen skimmed it; it seemed to be a psychological profile. "Bouts of depression, prone to withdraw into work, fear of affection... have you been seeing a psychiatrist?" he asked gently.

She snatched the paper from him. "It's the target," she said, miffed.

CROW: [GRAY MOUSE] Actually, in this fanfic, it's just about everybody.

Jürgen slapped his forehead comically and chuckled at himself. He started to hand her the effigy head. He suddenly frowned, puzzled. "Say, this looks a bit like you."

TOM: [JÜRGEN] Apart from you having a body.

JOEL: Uh-oh.

"Don't be silly."

TOM: [sniff sniff] What's that smell?

"No, really." He held the head up sideways. "Her snout is wider, but it's the profile - people don't know how their own profiles look, so you don't recognize it."

CROW: [sniff] Smells like... foreshadowing.

"I don't see any resemblance."

TOM: Between this or any character owned by Disney.

"See? You wear your scuba mask on top of your head, and -"

JOEL: Gee, could you give us another hint? I think Little Timmy in Albany hasn't caught on yet.

"There is no similarity between us. We are not connected in word, nor thought, nor deed. We are different in every possible measure of behavior. Unlike as a pea and a pigeon. This is one person. I am another. This the anvil. I the hammer. This the spoiled, privileged, effete, decadent, spongy pig iron, and I the case-hardened steel born of flame. This the pebble. I the mountain. This, the plague bacillus. I the antibiotic.

CROW: Okay already! The audience isn't the one from Sesame Street, you know.

This electron. I positron.

TOM: This Robert Lippert, I Kurosawa.

Oh, perhaps a few superficial similarities could be identified - number of ears, number of eyes, species - but this is antithesis. I am thesis. No, I am NEMESIS! Fated to rid the earth and cosmos of a certain polluting presence - I'm sorry. I didn't mean to shout."

JOEL: I'll bet she does work for Gizmonics.

"Oh, you weren't shouting."

"I thought I was."

"No, no, you were just modulating your voice." Jürgen was looking more closely at the head with a frown, and nodding slowly. "You're absolutely right, of course. As my eyes adjust to the light I can see there's no resemblance."

"None whatsoever!"

CROW: What were they talking about again?

TOM: This and "Chip 'n' Dale's Rescue Rangers".

"Look at that weak chin and the mindless eyes."

"Ha ha!"

"Ha ha!" Jürgen forced a laugh. His ears were still ringing from the word "nemesis."

TOM: Because it was one lousy movie.

CROW: I liked it.

TOM: See?

CROW: Why, you...

"And those stupid goggles! And the hair - it looks like a cotton swab soaked in paint!"

JOEL: If you haven't figured this out yet, please report to Room 1612 for your Free Clue.

"On you that style looks good," Jürgen unwisely pointed out, "but that shade of yellow -"

"I wonder what bottle it came out of!"

"Probably Testors!"

"Ha ha!"

CROW: Testors?

TOM: Model paint.

The Gray Mouse was happier than he had ever seen her. Jürgen decided to ask what might be a delicate question.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] You seem a little tense. I give a wonderful back rub.

"Not that I'm not willing to lay down my life on the altar of your vengeance and all, but what did she do to you?"

The Gray Mouse blinked. "Actually, we've never met."

Jürgen's gaze panned the horribly disfigured representations that filled the room. "Oooohhhhh-kay," he said, with a wide, fixed grin. His ears perked. The Gray Mouse was picking up a weapon of her own devising and hoisting it to firing position over her shoulder: the .22 caliber Darned Nearly Recoilless Rifle. He glanced around uneasily for a target, noticed the head in his hands, put it on a stand and dove for cover.

JOEL: Look out - it's a mouse with a zip gun!

TOM: Tabby, beware!

The Gray Mouse aimed briefly, and pulled the trigger. The firing pin snapped down on the rimfire cartridge, setting it off. Newtonian laws were amply demonstrated.

TOM: Prepare yourself for the thrilling exposition of recoilless rifle technology.

As the bullet went forward, the brass casing shot backwards, both cocking the firing pin and absorbing Darned Nearly all the Recoil.

JOEL: I tell you, my heart is in my throat...

What was left flipped the Gray Mouse over; spinning her twice before slamming her into the steel deck. The casing, the bullet, and the fragments of PVC head ricocheted dramatically for several seconds; perhaps being low kept either of them from being hit. The room was full of dark, stinging smoke and the smell of cordite.

TOM: Uh oh, it's the landlady.

CROW: [falsetto] Are you firing recoilless weapons indoors again?

JOEL: Uh... no?

CROW: [falsetto] Are you building an interocitor?

"Smokeless powder my tail," the Gray Mouse said, voice muffled by her cape.

"I can't hear you," said Jürgen. "I think I've been temporarily deafened by the report of a .22 rifle round fired in an enclosed space."

"It's no use trying to talk," the Gray Mouse explained. "We've been temporarily deafened by the report of a .22 rifle round fired in an enclosed space."

"What?"

"What?"

CROW: Does the hilarity ever let up?

Chapter Three : Reach Out and Touch Someone

Gadget was more interested in mechanical engineering than computers,

JOEL: But you've probably guessed that by now, haven't you?

which was the only thing keeping her from setting up "rescueranger.org". Instead, a grateful mouse at the public library had given them Internet access. She was checking her email, dancing across the onscreen keyboard of a PalmPilot like Tom Hanks playing a piano in Big. She appreciated the chance to interact with others without their knowing she was a mouse, let alone a Rescue Ranger. As netiquette demanded, she used the "8" character in her emoticons to let other animals know she was actually a mouse.

TOM: Now that the secret's out, I guess everyone will know.

At 1830 (-5) "GH@PUBLIB.ORG" Said:

I mean, it's not that I don't like the end users, but they keep asking for these silly, weight wasting additions! Like brakes.

Users are always like that -- as though it weren't hard enough to reach top speed anyway! Since I work more with maritime vehicles, at least they don't whine about wanting brakes, but lifeboats are almost as hard!

CROW: Joel, do you think the engineers who built the Satellite of Love had conversations like that?

JOEL: Thanks, Crow. I really needed that thought.

CROW: Any time.

8:-/

Thanks very much for your invitation, but I'm afraid I'll just be staying in your area long enough to wreak horrible, crunchy vengeance for wrongs committed against me in the past.

TOM: I think I met her on a mailing list, once.

--WH@WoodsHoleResearch.com

Gadget chuckled. Ah, these academics. Somebody had probably misspelled WH's real name in a citation. "WH" was one of her favorite net correspondents, another mouse engineer. She replied:

Sorry to hear you're busy. Maybe some other time. Best of luck with the vengeance! 8:-)

--GH@PUBLIB.ORG

TOM: Irony, best ladled on with a trowel.

Gadget was not the first to misjudge someone over the Internet; nor would she be the last.

TOM: We're done for now, guys.

JOEL: Thank goodness.

[1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... 5 ... 6 ... SoL]

[JOEL, TOM, and CROW on the main deck. JOEL wears a Mickey Mouse tie on his jumpsuit, and has a Palm case on his belt; the bots are all in business casual, with various cartoon characters tastefully embroidered on their pockets and/or ties. CROW holds a PalmPilot Pro in his hand. They lounge around a water cooler.]

JOEL: So anyway, this [Quote finger gesture] "Technical Recruiter" asks me about my experience in the construction industry.

TOM: You worked in the construction industry?

JOEL: Not at all. She read the part of my resume where I talked about automated regression testing to ensure the quality of multiple builds of software, and thought it meant buildings!

CROW: [Rolls eyes and laughs]

TOM: D'oh!

[JOEL looks up at the camera.]

JOEL: Hi, everybody. The bots and I decided we would try to work with this fanfic by joining the demographic it is obviously written for.

TOM: Technically astute fans of children's television.

CROW: Did I tell you I met the bully who made my High School career a living hell last week?

JOEL: No.

TOM: What did you say to him?

CROW: "Give me ten dollars on pump three."

[JOEL and TOM laugh.]

TOM: Remember those big TI calculators we used to use, with the belt pouches?

JOEL: Yeah... time changes things, huh? Hey, Crow, I've got that URL with the Gadget pictures you asked me about.

CROW: [lecherously] Ahhh...

TOM: I heard it's really Luwhiney, and the artist just claims it's Gadget.

JOEL: [takes out his Palm III] Here, let me beam it over to you. Oh, wait. I forgot. You have a PalmPilot Pro.

TOM: Guess some of us don't think they need an infrared port on their palm computers.

CROW: Would you mind sending the URL to the Synapse alphanumeric pager I got with my Palm III OS upgrade chip? I could have gone with the IR port, but this was more expensive and even less useful.

JOEL: I'm sorry I ever doubted you, buddy.

[Pause]

TOM: I wish we knew some girls.

[Silence]

[Commercial sign. A pensive JOEL hits the button.]

Chapter Four : A Triangle is Resolved, and A Trap Baited.

Near the bow of the Registered Mouse Ship Minuscule, two mice in the first spring of their youths stood;

JOEL: Rather than the first spring of their elder years?

CROW: I swear, if Celine Dion starts singing...

she sadly in a sun dress, he in an impeccably tailored afternoon suit. He was visibly nervous and

CROW: Retching.

attempting to conceal it; for today the beauteous Gidget

TOM: How did Sally Fields get into a Ranger fanfic?

CROW: Because they like her! They really like her!

would choose between him and the rough, yet sturdy, young Canadian mouse in steerage.

JOEL: Doesn't sound like the Canadian mouse is aware of this fact.

"Bertie," she said sadly, "this is both the happiest and saddest day of my life. For I must choose the One Love of my life - yet at the expense of hurting the man who came awfully close to being the love of my life.

JOEL: Bertie might want to think twice about dating a girl who calls her significant other "love of my life".

TOM: Why? I think it's reminiscent of Shakespeare.

JOEL: Exactly. Think of how many happy endings he wrote.

TOM: Hmmm. Point taken.

One of you must be hurt, at least if we want to be accepted in polite society."

"Right ho,"

CROW: Calling her that probably wasn't the way to win her over.

Bertie nodded, his spirits ironically sinking. Darn polite society.

TOM: [BERTIE] Oh, just gee whiz drat it all!

She turned her tear drenched face towards him. "For I do love David more than I love life itself. Our souls are as one. And yet, Bertie, you are obscenely rich -" and here she smiled - "and for that, I can learn to love you!"

JOEL: Hopefully Bertie's credit rating stays good.

Joy swelled the heart in his chest.

TOM: While despair shrank the heart in his calf.

"Embrace me, my darling!" cried Bertie.

CROW: And thus she plunged her fangs into his neck, draining his husk dry.

TOM: After the marriage? Probably.

===

TOM: As you can see, the bar was lowered with this fanfic.

"Range one zero three yards," said Jürgen as Bertie and Gidget fell into one another's arms.

JOEL: How did Bertie and Gidget wind up in the sub's command bridge?

CROW: Desperate for screen time, I guess.

"Solution one hundred,

CROW: They're mixing drinks?

TOM: Ah! This must be the rodent version of the Exxon Valdez!

gyro angle zero, depth six inches," said Mr. Calvert. Despite Jürgen's dislike of yards

JOEL: Even he had to admit it was nice to set up the lawn chairs on weekends and watch the grass grow.

and feet,

JOEL: Preferring wheels,

he had to admit the American - built Torpedo Data Computer that used them was indisputably

TOM: Built by the lowest bidder.

the cat's meow.

JOEL: Would a mouse think this was a good thing?

"Status on tube four?"

CROW: [CREWMAN] All out of toothpaste.

"Iceberg-inducing warhead armed and ready, Herr Kaleun!"

JOEL: I thought his name was Jürgen.

CROW: Wait, here we go: "German abbreviation for 'Kapitanleutenant', roughly the equivalent of Lieutenant Commander or Commander in the US Navy."

TOM: And Starfleet.

JOEL: I really hate this fanfic.

The iceberg-inducing warhead would produce a smallish mass of ice, not hard enough to rip a steel hull. It would, however, be a good alibi.

TOM: What?!

JOEL: Let's see, a small mass of ice for a rodent would be equivalent to what? An ice tray?

CROW: So the torpedo is actually a modified ice machine? Doesn't sound too threatening.

Jürgen looked away from the eyepiece. "If you please, ma'am?" he asked politely.

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Get your hands off me.

The Gray Mouse nodded. "Proceed, Mr. Jürgen." Again, she felt annoyance flicker over her. These continuous attempts to patronize her on the

TOM: Proper way to brush and floss.

bridge she had built were beginning to get under her skin and distract her from the beautiful act of crunchy revenge which should have her complete attention. Odd that the thought of Jürgen patronizing her would bother her so much.

Jürgen turned away, disappointed. He thought she would appreciate a

CROW: Punch in the snout.

chance to initiate her own plan with her own order. "Fire four."

TOM: Four of what?

JOEL: [Monty Pythoner in drag voice] Mrs. Nesbitt's 'aving one of 'er 'eadaches again, so I've put 'er in the torpedo tube.

A sharp blast of pressurized air.

TOM: Did what?

"Firing four, sir."

TOM: Four of what?!

"Torpedo running, sir," said Mr. Fenton, ear pressed against his sonic

CROW: The Hedgehog plastic lunch box.

transparent panel.

The dial in the upper left corner of the TDC

JOEL: The Disney Channel?

TOM: Total Dysfunctional Chipmunks?

CROW: Terrifying Delusions of Cornstalks?

showed a ship outline with an arrow pointing from bow to stern, and the Forward Gyro

JOEL: Good Greek food, there.

and Target

JOEL: And that's not a bad department store, either.

TOM: At least the sponsors got their ads over with quickly.

Bearing dials were both at zero. Albacore

ALL: Baltimore!

was positioned in the path of the RMS Minuscule, her bow directly facing that of the cruise ship.

CROW: When you start telling people what the dials on a submarine's control panel mean, you've done too much research for a Rescue Rangers story!

JOEL: I thought you liked technobabble.

CROW: With a little less babble.

"Collision alarm," Jürgen said, lowering the periscope and stepping over to a chair, strapping himself in.

The Gray Mouse blinked.

TOM: The Gray Mouse coughed. The Gray Mouse yawned. The Gray Mouse napped.

If she sat down, she'd be safe during the ram, but she wouldn't look terribly cool. Nor would I look cool bouncing around the bridge and screaming, she reasoned, and hastened to her chair, behind and higher than Jürgen's.

JOEL: Reminds me of the birthing chair from The Handmaid's Tale.

TOM: Just be glad Jürgen isn't wearing red, then, or I'd really be worried.

===

The lookout frantically banged a bell. "Iceberg off the starboard bow!" he cried, whiskers trembling.

CROW: Please don't let this be a "Titanic" crossover...

TOM: Why not? At least then most of the characters will die.

It was a bright noontime June day and they were within sight of one of the most famous statues in the world, so everyone in the pilot house assumed he was

CROW: Having another LSD trip.

kidding.

The iceberg

TOM: What iceberg? You mean the ice cubes from the ice machine-turned-torpedo?

CROW: [Lookout/druggie] Ice Tray off the starboard bow!

bumped across the starboard bow of the Minuscule, shattered pieces cascading across the deck. Then the cruise ship hit the saw blade mounted on the back of Albacore. The submarine was under water, but shallow enough that the top of the saw blade would collide with Minuscule. The impact lifted Minuscule higher, as she rode up above Albacore's deck. The shock pushed Albacore

ALL: Baltimore!

down and towards Minuscule's port side. The saw blade sliced a horrible gash through the cruise ship's bilge, from the starboard bow slanting portways, running off the cruise ship in the rear quarter. The Atlantic poured into the engine room.

TOM: Wait. How can a fixed saw blade tear a gash in the hull of the ship? They weren't going that fast.

JOEL: Maybe the Minuscule was made from Styrofoam and cardboard.

TOM: They deserve to sink, then.

"Gosh," said Bertie.

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Will someone get this moron out of my sub?

Captain Badger, veteran of more years at sea than most of his crew had in toto,

CROW: So...Captain Badger got his crew from Dorothy's dog?

TOM: [CREWMAN] I don't think we're in Toto anymore, boss...

JOEL: Oh, I get it. He means the musical group who did the soundtrack for "Dune".

looked grimly at the plan view of his ship. Chief Engineer Rat pointed with his pen.

JOEL: [RAT] According to this script, we're supposed to believe that an iceberg was actually the cause of the damage.

TOM: [BADGER] Why would we be dumb enough to believe that?

JOEL: [RAT] Because then the story moves on, letting us go.

TOM: [BADGER] Blast those icebergs! They breed like rabbits!

"The bottom's been split," the water rat said. "There's flooding here, here, and here. We've lost engine power. I rather wish I had stayed at the river," making a weak attempt at a joke.

CROW: We're used to it by now, thanks.

"There's something wrong," the badger said, frowning.

"Yes, sir," the engineer said patiently.

JOEL: [RAT] You've got your underwear on your head again. You do this every Tuesday, remember?

"The bottom has been split -"

"No," the captain tapped the diagram. "The iceberg

TOM: [grumbling] Ice cubes.

hit on the starboard side, but we've got damage all the way across to the port side."

The engineer blinked. "Perhaps we broke the iceberg and ran over part of it." He shrugged. The details didn't interest him for the time being.

JOEL: Since the ship is sinking, that's probably a wise course of action.

The captain nodded, satisfied. "Yes, we did run over something... can we save the ship?" he asked, knowing the answer.

CROW: He was psychic?

The engineer confirmed his opinion. "No, sir. We can counterflood to keep from rolling over, but we're going down."

Mr. Mole,

JOEL: With thoughtful names like "Mole", "Badger", and "Rat", I feel pity for any children the author may name.

CROW: And these are my children; Boy, Girl, and Child.

the chief steward, burst in. "Sir," he interrupted. "The passengers need to be told something.

TOM: [MOLE] They aren't buying the fib about the toilet overflowing.

A few of the bats have already flown for the mainland."

JOEL: Like bats deserting a sinking ship?

CROW: Foxglove would not approve.

"Let them go, Mr. Mole," Badger said sadly. The look of defeat on his strong shoulders was, to Mole and Rat,

TOM: His natural expression, so they really didn't grasp the enormity of his despair.

JOEL: With Mole and Rat there with Badger, it's starting to sound like a Wind in the Willows crossover.

more terrifying than the water filling the ship. "Sound abandon ship. Women and children first.

JOEL: [BADGER] Pitch them overboard quickly. I can't stand their screaming.

Alert International Res - I mean, the Rescue Rangers, just in case."

Chapter Five : The Bait is Taken

CROW: See Bait. See Bait sit. See Bait taken. Go, Bait, go.

TOM: Kill me.

A branch of their headquarters tree had been carefully planed flat, to serve as a landing strip. Gadget was frantically tinkering with a group of backpack-sized packages, while Monterey tied each one to the outside of the Ranger Plane. "Just like depth charges during the war," Monterey said affectionately.

TOM: What war?!

JOEL: [MONTEREY] 'Course, these bundles of Spam won't do more than scare people, but it's a start.

Gadget cracked a smile. "The payload is different, however."

"That's where I met your father, luv," Monterey said, suddenly serious.

CROW: You know, that line is open to just all kinds of interpretations.

JOEL: None of which we'll venture into.

"I was in with th' Commonwealth an' 'e joined the Royal Navy to hunt U-boats -"

TOM: Huh? At what point in the series was that ever portrayed?

JOEL: Nowak used some creative license, I guess.

TOM: The ones from Cracker Jack boxes don't count.

"I know," Gadget snapped. She stood, looking down at her work, a moment of sorrow flicking over her features.

CROW: [GADGET] I can't believe I'm responsible for this piece of crud.

Then she turned and smiled at him happily. "At least you remember how they mounted depth charges on patrol aircraft," she said lightly, trying to compensate for her interruption.

Monty forced a chuckle. He wasn't buying it.

TOM: Not at that price, anyway.

Chip raced out the hangar, with a clipboard. He was closely followed by Dale, who had his arms full of blueprints - how had he found blueprints to the Minuscule? Gadget was half convinced she didn't have any in her workshop.

JOEL: The other half was arguing that she always carried blueprints to ships on file that she never heard of.

Chip was rapping out information while he swung himself into the plane.

CROW: Yo! Chip be givin' the homies info!

"The ship is going down in the bay, south of Everready Park," he explained. "The water is cold, but not dangerous."

JOEL: [CHIP] The toxic waste, however, might present a problem.

The Ranger Plane was half a bleach bottle with flapping wings and a balloon. Instead of wheels or a more conventional skid landing gear, it balanced on two suction darts. Now they were used as anchors to hold the Plane down against the lift of its own balloon.

TOM: Interesting. Completely pointless to the story, but interesting nonetheless.

Gadget looked up at the balloon. Helium under pressure migrated slowly through latex; thus, the Ranger Plane would gradually lose lift as it flew. The flapping wings would help compensate for that by flapping harder as the balloon died.

JOEL: Does that mean the balloon would eventually become dead weight?

BOTS: [groan]

Besides, they would get lighter as they dropped the packages Monty was tying to the outside of the fuselage. Would she be able to control trim and buoyancy as they started dropping their payload? How had her father done it in the Navy?

TOM: Do fish dream?

JOEL: What's on television tonight?

CROW: Does anyone care?

She felt a stab again.

CROW: That's what you get for giving Dale a knife; he just isn't responsible enough to play with sharp objects.

Still not letting go. Still using work to shut it out. It had been years since her father's death, and she was still changing the subject when one of his old friends mentioned him. She remembered the years she had spent alone in their house, building elaborate salesman traps, anything to focus her mind on something else.

Now she had found a more productive distraction, but she suddenly realized she wasn't any healthier.

Dale and Chip looked at one another, concerned.

JOEL: [CHIP] You think she's loaded down with emotional turmoil? Again?

TOM: [DALE] Who doesn't outfit her with baggage from the Angst Company?

Given Gadget's track record when she was confident, her eyeing the aircraft with a pensive and worried expression did not bode well.

"So why are we taking the Ranger Plane instead of the Ranger Wing?" Dale asked. "It's faster."

"Yes," Chip explained while Gadget leapt in. "But the Plane can hover longer at a lower speed. The lifter blades on the Wing can't hold it up very long; it needs forward speed to generate lift."

CROW: Actually, the Ranger Wing has done just fine hovering for extended periods of time, as shown in "Weather or Not" and "Song of a Night N Dale".

TOM: Fanboy.

CROW: Bite me.

The wings were flapping, and Gadget judged how tightly the suction darts were holding them down. Not very. She preferred a little more spare

JOEL: Change for the tollway, but Dale had spent it all on gumballs.

lift, but... she cast off. Belatedly, Zipper did his bugle call and they released a ragged cry of "Rescue Rangers Away!" but it lacked a certain snap; Gadget had blown the timing.

TOM: Better than blowing up the Ranger Plane.

"Do you think we'll need all these rescue packages?" Monterey asked as the Plane

CROW: Couldn't support all the weight and crashed to the ground in a horrific disaster. The End.

lurched unsteadily into the air. "They're going down pretty slowly, an' they're bound t' have enough lifeboats."

"There's many perfectly legitimate reasons for an engineer to leave lifeboats off a cruise ship," Gadget said seriously. "I'd do it in some circumstances."

JOEL: [GADGET] Like when I want to be responsible for the needless deaths of hundreds of innocent people. It's such a rush!

"Name one," Monty shot back. He would never say it out loud, but he always found it stupefying that an intelligent girl who lost her father

TOM: Somewhere in Bloomingdale's.

in an air race accident would have such a cavalier attitude towards safety procedures.

CROW: Nah, she just wants to grow up and die like her dad.

"Well, they can clutter up the deck-"

JOEL: So it's better to have dead bodies clutter up the water?

TOM: Hey, the sharks aren't complaining.

Monterey winced, and Gadget wondered if something in the seat was sticking him.

JOEL: Probably a plot point.

"It's most likely we'll just be there to observe," Chip explained.

TOM: [CHIP] Watching people drown is a great way to kill an afternoon.

"Search for stragglers and drop them a floatation pack. We can't pull thousands of mice out of the water, after all."

TOM: [CHIP] I have to be at the bowling lanes by three.

"I hope I brought enough blueprints," Dale broke in.

CROW: Sore he hadn't had any good lines yet.

"I asked you to find the Minuscule blueprints," Chip said slowly. "What do you mean by enough?"

"Well, these were the smallest blueprints I could find -"

CROW: So why does he have so many, instead of just keeping the smallest set?

JOEL: Well... uh... I'm, not sure, really.

"Gadget," Chip yelled to the front seat, "Dale just volunteered for ballast duty."

"Don't litter, Chip," Gadget said, her mind on something else.

They were flying over Everready Park by the time Dale got it.

TOM: Hopefully, they'll find a cure for it soon.

Under them was a terrifying sight,

CROW: Bill Gates was streaking!

lit by the afternoon sun. Minuscule was settling evenly, now so low in the water that the lifeboats had a short drop to the ocean.

TOM: Since a mouse-sized ocean liner isn't that big to start with, the drop was all of what, half-an-inch?

A cloud of bats, so dense it almost seemed possible to walk on it, was drifting onto Everready Park.

TOM: And... none of the humans in the park notice that?

JOEL: Probably happens all the time.

CROW: [Human in park] Huh. Fifth time this week. And it's only Tuesday.

Pushcart vendors took one look at the disaster survivors struggling ashore, and as though with a single mind, increased the prices of their wares.

TOM: Hmmm. Unless the rodent-human relationship is the same as in Lankmar, I'm going to guess those were animal vendors.

"Cool," Gadget whispered. Monty shot her a look. "They're settling evenly," she hastened to explain. "Ships are most risky when they lose trim."

CROW: What's so bad about losing the ship's decorations?

JOEL: Actually, I think she means "trim" as in [pulls out a dictionary and begins reading]: the set of a ship in the water.

TOM: Ah. Isn't that a bit technical for a cartoon series?

JOEL: Yes. Your point?

"Like in The Poseidon Adventure," Dale chirped. Chip gave him a dirty

CROW: Worm, seeing as he Dale signaled that he was still hungry.

look.

"Yes, good example, although extreme and fictional," Gadget said to

TOM: Shut him up.

Chip's surprise. "They're probably pumping water aboard to keep from

JOEL: Surviving and having to stay in this fanfic.

rolling over or going bow down."

"You mean they take water onto a sinking ship?" Chip was curious.

"Yes, it's called counterflooding."

TOM: How come Carnival Cruise Lines never tell you about these kind of things?

"It's amazing how the stupidest ideas make sense when you understand them," Chip marveled.

CROW: [CHIP] But I still don't get the fascination with "Magic: The Gathering"...

"There's only women and children on those lifeboats," Monty said grimly, looking through binoculars. "That means the men

JOEL: Never were on this ship. Must be partying in Panama or something.

CROW: With your wife and kids elsewhere, wouldn't you?

are still all aboard."

===

"And thank you for choosing Canard White Star Lines," Mr. Mole said cheerfully as the loaded lifeboat dropped into the water and

TOM: Sank like a stone.

the passengers stared at him in shocked disbelief. "You will find complementary snacks under the seats!" Mole sighed.

CROW: A rather loud sigh....

He had had no idea that there were so many women aboard the Minuscule, or that so many were so large and had such deep voices.

JOEL: But even those women refused his advances. Must be his aftershave.

"All lifeboats away, sir," rapped out a steward.

CROW: Word! Steward's in da house!

He handed Mr. Mole a tally sheet. Mole added the total on this sheet to the others he had seen, and frowned. All the passengers were away, and yet he had not seen a single man. Most singular. He could not have known it was a widespread habit for male passengers to bring along a dress and wig, just in case the cry of "women and children first!" was sounded.

CROW: Or the call for that drag party was given.

He took the clipboard to the pilot house, where Captain Badger watched a slowly circling

TOM: Flock of vultures.

air vehicle. "The signal reads 'have you enough

JOEL: [SIGNAL] Brains to tie your shoes? What kind of moron are you to hit the only iceberg in over a hundred miles?

lifeboats for the passengers?'" he read. Badger frowned.

TOM: So, if Mole just arrived, who was telling Badger what the signal was?

CROW: Casper, the friendly plot contrivance.

"Signal back 'Certainly. What sort of reckless maniacs --'"

===

"'-- Do ya take us for?' Told you," Monterey couldn't help saying. Gadget frowned.

TOM: What ever happened to the bright, smiling, and cheery Gadget from the series?

JOEL: First rule of Ranger fanfic -- drain the happiness.

===

"All passengers are away, captain," Mr. Mole reported. "We were able to spread them thinly over the last few boats."

JOEL: [MOLE] True, it was kinda gross pulping them so they would spread evenly, but all in a day's work!

Mole was suddenly aware of a ring of hostile eyes around him.

CROW: He was even more aware that they were not attached to any faces.

Captain Badger broke the ominous silence.

TOM: Not counting the noises of the ship, the bay, the passengers on the lifeboats, the sea gulls, the other boats in the area, and the general hub-bub of a major waterway.

"By any chance," Badger asked gently, "did you remember to save a few for the crew of this ship?"

JOEL: [MOLE] Why? They can swim.

"Oh, bother," gulped Mole.

TOM: So Mole is related to Winnie the Pooh?

CROW: It would explain the similarities in IQ. That is to say, zero.

===

"Their signal reads, 'Inflatable life rafts sufficient 50 mice. Will drop on deck. Ha ha.'" Captain Badger rumbled slightly.

CROW: Was the captain reading that aloud, or did Casper just make another appearance?

"Reply 'Thank you,'" he forced himself to say.

===

Monterey smiled as he finished flashing the Aidis lamp.

CROW: Whoa! That was something we didn't need to know!

As a Commonwealth mouse who had served in the war,

TOM: Since when?!

he felt he had the right to add his own postscript to Chip's message, reasoning that Chip was unduly restrained by the Special Relationship.

TOM: Of what? The Rangers never signed any international treaties.

JOEL: Shh. It's not polite to break the fragile world the author lives in.

"Okay," said Gadget, as they hovered over the slowly vanishing deck of the dying liner. "When we drop these, we'll lose a lot of weight. We may climb slightly before I regain control. Don't be alarmed."

JOEL: Be terrified.

Three sets of knuckles tightened in abject terror. Zipper decided to fly under his own power for a while.

CROW: Zipper? Who's he?

JOEL: He's the fly. Remember? He was mentioned in the first chapter. I think.

Monty gripped a lanyard. "Salvo ready. Tell me when I can drop, Gadget luv."

JOEL: [GADGET] You can drop dead for all I care.

"Ready."

Monty pulled. The inflatable life rafts peeled away from the Ranger Plane unevenly, from the tail to nose. The tail of the Plane slewed upwards, and accelerated.

TOM: Strangely enough, however, the bow remained stationary.

This put aerodynamic forces on the wing, turning it to face the slipstream. Loose objects bounced forwards and out of the Plane, misfiled tools, Dale's blueprints,

JOEL: Any similarities to the series.

leftover parts from Gadget's periodic rehauls which she tossed into the back in case they later turned out to be important. In a short time, they were rocketing upwards, with the plane pitching so far forwards they couldn't see sky before them. The Minuscule was beginning to live up to her name, and more disturbingly (for Gadget), she was beginning to turn gently as the Ranger Plane began a vertical roll.

JOEL: Was that "she" Gadget, the cruise ship, or the Plane?

CROW: Could have been the Virgin Mary for all we know.

Dale made a grab for a paper bag and missed. "I lost my lunch," Dale cried in dismay.

"Don't brag about it, mate," pleaded Monterey,

TOM: Reaching for a different kind of paper bag.

looking rather green himself.

"Okay, now do I reestablish trim forward and aft first, or should I try to swing the nose around?"

JOEL: [GADGET] Or do the curtains clash with the sofa?

Gadget had no idea if she was asking the question of herself or of her friends, who were screaming too uncontrollably to hear her in any case.

"Monty!" she snapped. "Into the back seat!"

CROW: Wow! Gadget gets turned on in death-defying situations, doesn't she?

To his credit, he started to move immediately after he shot her

TOM: For getting them into this mess in the first place.

a "you have got to be kidding!" look. As he climbed over, the nose of the Ranger Plane began to swing up. Too quickly!

JOEL: Slow down, story! Nowak can't keep up!

"Chip! Front seat!"

Chip and Dale had spent so much time fighting over who got to ride shotgun with Gadget they had come to a tacit agreement to let Monty

JOEL: Rip the passenger seat completely out of the plane.

occupy the coveted position. Chip could have forgone the honor now. He tried to ease his way over, when a sudden violent lurch slammed the Plane and rolled him lengthwise across the seat, head in Gadget's lap, staring up into her shocked eyes.

"We need to lighten the rear, Dale lad," Monty said in dismay. There was nothing left to throw overboard.

CROW: Hence, Monterey heaved Dale over the side.

Dale pulled a snack out of his breast pocket and flung it over. "I tossed my cookies," he said to Monty.

Monty stared at Dale. P'raps you're not as dumb as you act.

TOM: It'd be a logistical impossibility.

===

After executing a vertical barrel roll backwards, the rescue aircraft had finally come to a stop, some one thousand feet above them. "Show off," Captain Badger muttered disapprovingly, although it was bad form to criticize the owners of the lifeboat you were using. "Scott and Virgil would never countenance such acrobatics."

JOEL: [BADGER] They were too chicken.

Chapter Six : Sproing!

Monty frowned. "Crikey."

TOM: [MONTY] That's the lamest chapter title I've ever seen.

"I can see our tree from here," Dale said excitedly.

CROW: [DALE] It's being cut down to make room for another fountain.

"I can see a submarine down there," Monty finished. "See? About three hundred feet off the Minuscule, seven o'clock from the bow."

TOM: [shaking] What?! Since when did Monterey get telescopic sight? Mice over a thousand feet up in the air are not going to be able to see a submerged submarine no bigger than a soapbox!

Dale shifted his gaze. If he had not been told it was a submarine, he would never have recognized it as one; in fact, he had not even known it was possible to see a submerged submarine from the air. But now he knew it for what it was he saw it,

CROW: Uh...okay.

JOEL: [to himself] He knew it for what it was he saw it...what it was he saw it...

unmistakably if indistinctly,

TOM: Rather like Nowak's prose...

a long, slender shadow of slightly darker water fluttering in the waves.

TOM: It's "The Pirates of Dark Water"!

"If it is a submarine," Gadget said doubtfully, "why didn't it surface to offer assistance? They must know Minuscule is sinking -"

"Because they're the ones who sent her to the bottom," Monty stated as a proven fact, voice tight with anger.

CROW: No no, Monty! It was an iceberg! Look at all the ice cubes around...

"It's gotta be a friendly Navy sub," Gadget pointed out. "How else could it get so close to the shore?"

JOEL: Not to mention into the sewers, under the tree, and up the kitchen drain of Ranger HQ.

"Submarines are stalkers in the night, "

TOM: But it's daytime.

Monty rumbled. "Sneakin' around is what submarines are for."

CROW: I thought sinking ships is what submarines were for.

"If they attacked her, they'd be disengaging by now," Gadget argued. "It's not like there's other ships in a convoy for her to attack."

JOEL: Because they already sank.

"What do you think, Chip?" Monty asked.

TOM: [CHIP] I think I like my view better.

"Chip, you can see better with your head out of my lap," Gadget said gently.

JOEL: [CHIP] Sez you!

"Submarine?" Chip asked, sitting bolt upright. "I think -"

CROW: [CHIP] I can see better while sitting in Gadget's lap.

He would later claim he was agreeing with Monterey, but that could have been because a new piece of evidence abruptly presented itself.

===

TOM: A paragraph divider is a new piece of evidence?

JOEL: Perry Mason, eat your heart out!

Jürgen was looking through the sky periscope, adjusting the vertical tilt of the image. "They seem to have recovered control. Speed nearly zero."

JOEL: Since the Rangers have been calmly discussing the submarine without yelling and worrying about crashing, that's not an impressive observation.

"Shall we burst their bubble?" the Gray Mouse suggested delicately.

CROW: [GRAY MOUSE] Or just steal their lollypop?

Jürgen smiled. "Weapons Officer, rig vertical tubes one and two for firing. Detonate at 1100 feet, ascending." Jürgen had always dreamed of

TOM: Getting the lead in the Nutcracker Suite, but that's not important right now.

fighting back against aircraft, those fragile, buzzy things which had spelled the death of so many of his beloved submarines.

JOEL: The Ranger Plane has spelled death for countless submarines?

CROW: Aircraft made from a bleach bottle and balloon are the terror of the skies, to be sure.

I've never done this before, he thought gleefully. Let's see if they work!

TOM: Testing new equipment in a real situation instead of in a controlled experiment is never a good idea.

===

All that was visible was a splash from the water, from which emerged a small dot, weaving gently back and forth. A moment or two were needed to wonder why the small dot was moving so slowly and come to the conclusion that it wasn't - it was actually moving at a very high rate of speed, and the reason it appeared to be almost motionless was that it was heading directly at them.

TOM: All of this was told to the rest of the Rangers by Monterey, as he was the only one with the telescopic sight needed to see it.

By the time Dale had figured this out, Gadget had already slammed full power to the wings. Like shifting from first to fifth gear in a car, this killed the engine.

CROW: And doubled their insurance rates.

TOM: Would you insure the Rangers?

She was trying to restart it when Dale screamed out the obvious.

JOEL: [DALE] The obvious!

TOM: [CHIP] That's nice, Dale.

"Missillllllle............"

A C6-7 rocket engine will take a well designed model rocket to 1600 feet in less than eight seconds. Since it slows dramatically during flight, it takes about four to reach 1100 feet.

JOEL: I'm starting to wonder if Nowak writes science textbooks for a living.

TOM: Starting?

The rocket from Albacore

ALL: Baltimore!

then exploded below the Ranger Plane, and a shower of projectiles

CROW: All kinds of them. All sorts. Use your imagination.

rattled against the soft plastic of the bleach bottle and burst the balloon.

TOM: What, no description of the dispersal arc and fragment penetration in millimeters of steel?

JOEL: Tom, you'll only encourage him.

The Ranger Plane began to nose down.

TOM: It's found the scent!

"Gadget," Chip said seriously, "if someone's shooting at us, we have to

JOEL: [CHIP] Stop singing "It's a Small World After All" incessantly.

go away from the passengers."

Gadget nodded grimly, and lowered her goggles into place. She pushed the stick forward. "I'll make for Trellis Island," she decided. "Remember, your seat can be used as a floatation device."

JOEL: [GADGET] Granted, it will float about as well as lodestone, but it's the best we can manage.

Chip turned to see if Monterey and Dale were okay.

TOM: Zipper had been smashed flat, but who cares?

They were shaken, but

CROW: [JAMES BOND] Not stirred.

didn't seem to be bleeding. Frowning, Chip looked down at the floor of the Plane. He didn't see any holes.

JOEL: So he made some of his own!

But I heard us get hit...why didn't the pellets penetrate?

The Plane went gently into a dive.

TOM: Was that supposed to be the answer?

Earlier, Chip had imagined that the worse thing that could happen to someone in an airplane was to climb rapidly, backwards, out of control, with the fuselage tipping forward and threatening to dump you into the receding ocean below. Now he knew that

CROW: Having to read sentences that long was even worse.

heading away from the ground is never as frightening as heading towards it.

JOEL: Good thing they're heading towards the ocean. He's got nothing to worry about!

She's trading height for speed, Monterey thought, holding on. Lift is proportional to the square of velocity; she's trying to go faster than usual to compensate for the lift of the lost balloon.

TOM: [shaking badly] What?! Since when did Monty become a physics major?

JOEL: Maybe the same time he joined the Navy--

TOM: Stuff it, Joel.

CROW: Maybe to figure out the best way to break cheese out of crates--

TOM: Stuff it, Crow!

She's gone nuts and will kill us all, Dale thought, half believing it.

It should work, unless the wings fall off or something, Gadget consoled herself.

JOEL: All right guys! We found the characterization in the technical data haystack!

CROW: Whoopee.

TOM: Bliss.

===

"She's going for Trellis Island," the Gray Mouse said slowly. "How ironic."

TOM: [singing] And isn't it ironic...don't you think?

"They'll be easier to catch if we can get them to land in the water," Jürgen muttered. "But we..."

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Should get Bertie and his money-grubbing girlfriend off the bridge first.

He stopped. The plummeting aircraft was at a bearing of 178 degrees.

CROW: At least, that's what the little invisible gnomes told him.

"EINBLASSEN!" he screamed.

JOEL: Such language, these naval officers!

Fortunately, the diving officer had seen Das Boot and released compressed air to empty the tanks. "All ahead flank!" Jürgen continued. "25 degrees port rudder! Aft planes up 15! Bow planes down 15!" He took a breath, "Collision alarm!"

A smile came over the Gray Mouse's face. She was the first on the bridge to figure it out.

TOM: [GRAY MOUSE] Rosebud was his sled!

===

Chip knew exactly how fast they were going. Too fast.

Certainly, the nearness of the water made it seem they were going faster than they really were, but that didn't change the fact they were going Too Fast. Gradually, his weight began to return. His eyes were fixed on the water, so this was the only evidence he had that Gadget was pulling them out of the dive. There was a ripping sound from the wing. This close to the water he could get no real estimate of their height. At Too Fast, the water was too blurred. He closed his watering eyes and clutched his fedora with both hands. The Plane vibrated violently. If his weight went down or vanished, it meant Gadget had lost their battle with gravity and they were about to die. If it remained constant, they wouldn't crash in the next few seconds. The results of this calculation seemed rather useless, but he thought it would be nice to know.

TOM: There's an awful lot of time for contemplation when one is going Too Fast, isn't there?

CROW: Maybe it'd be better to say they were going Kinda Quick But Not In Too Much Of A Rush.

He felt his weight increase.

JOEL: All those Walnut Waleroos were catching up with him.

He snapped his eyes open. Gadget was pulling them into a sharp climb, and he couldn't imagine why she was maneuvering so violently with so much strain already on the wings.

Then he saw what she saw.

TOM: The dashboard?

JOEL: No, seashells on the seashore.

Rising from the ocean before them, growing like some branchless tree, the long, slender cylinder of a submarine performing an emergency surface right before them.

CROW: [CHIP] I know it's an emergency surface because the same thing happened just last week!

Through Dale's mind flashed the opening scene of Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, the movie where Richard Basehart

JOEL: Hey, Gypsy?

TOM: Don't bother - she's missed it already.

was not playing Admiral Nelson, and a montage from Hunt for Red October, mixed with a Kirk Douglas movie whose title he forgot.

TOM: But not once did he think about the time the Rangers faced off against Captain Finn, when he actually saw a real submarine.

The Ranger Plane was nosing up, and Chip thought they were going to make

JOEL: A sequel to "Booty Call".

it until they hit the saw blade. The noise was short and sharp; there was a flash of brilliant metal between him and Gadget. Dale was unhurt.

TOM: Aside from having his head lopped off, but Chip was confident they could work around that.

Half of Monty's mustache dropped away. Chips' gaze went back to Gadget, slowly receding from him as the left half of the airplane parted company with the right half.

"I'm sorry, Chip," he thought he heard her say. "I don't think I can keep her up any longer."

Then the Plane(s) began to tumble, and his weight went away.

CROW: Just leaving him a "Dear Chip" letter.

JOEL: That's cruel.

Since Gadget had put them into a climb, this was not as serious as it would have been before. He reached below his seat to remove the emergency parachute.

JOEL: He decides to do this just now?

CROW: After flying with Gadget for this long, you'd think putting it on would be the first thing to do once aboard.

As he put it on, he realized with a shock that it was a 24" chute for Monty's greater weight. He looked backwards, but Monty had already bailed out - wearing Chip's 18" chute. Worried, Chip hoped the water landing would provide Monty with extra cushioning.

JOEL: Since they can't be more than a foot off of the surface after hitting the sub, I'd be more concerned about pulling the rip cord before I hit the water.

Chip was well clear of the plane, so he pulled the rip cord. He noticed that none of the other Rangers had done this yet, and wondered if he was making a mistake. The orange and white striped plastic chute with the ESTES logo opened quickly behind him. The shock of the sudden deceleration knocked him unconscious.

TOM: I'm beginning to yearn for the feeling, myself. We've got to go, guys.

[1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... 5 ... 6 ... SoL]

[On the SoL bridge, JOEL, TOM and CROW are dressed in filthy, disreputable sweaters and pants. They all have fake beards. JOEL looks through GYPSY's neck as though through a periscope, while CROW's arms are on a steering yoke and TOM stands by the "Sign" controls. Subtitles are flashed as the characters speak.]

JOEL: Ich wollen ein Auto meieten.
SUBTITLE: This filthy weather was made for the British!

TOM: Kalte, frisches Luft macht Gesund!
SUBTITLE: Contact bearing eight-seven! Fast screws!

[JOEL spins, so GYPSY faces the camera.]

JOEL: [screaming] KANNST DU KEINEN SPASS VERSTEHEN!! ZWEI GLASS!!
SUBTITLE: An enemy Destroyer! Golly!

[Loud BOOMs echo through the set while the camera jerks and JOEL, CROW, and TOM try to look like they're being thrown about by depth charges.]

TOM: AUTOBAHN!
SUBTITLE: AAAAAAK!

CROW: SCHWARTZWALD!
SUBTITLE: AAAAUGH!

[Commercial Sign starts flashing.]

CROW: Sorry, guys, Commercial Sign.
SUBTITLE: Mein Vater var ein Wandersman, und ich hab' auch im Blut.

JOEL: Darn. We'll be back after this.
SUBTITLE: Ich weiss nicht was soll es bedeuten, das ich so trauig bin.

[COMMERCIAL]

[Joel and the bots enter the theater, taking their seats.]

Chapter Seven : In The Hands of the Gray Mouse

JOEL: Well, I guess it's better than being in "Manos, the Hands of Fate".

[Everyone convulses.]

TOM: I thought I told you never to say that title around me again!

Gadget was working on Chip's unconscious body,

CROW: Trying to change the oil.

not allowing any of the crewmen on the deck of the mysterious submarine anywhere near them. In Monterey's view, this wasn't necessary - the crew of the submarine had, after all, fished Chip out of the water first, and they had gotten him breathing before rescuing the other Rangers. The Rangers were on the bow of the submarine. Several crewmice were between them and the bridge.

TOM: Water was surrounding them. The sky was overhead. Gravity was still present.

The only way into the sub was through them, and from the bazookalike weapons

CROW: Weapons made from bubblegum?

JOEL: Oooooo... and the wrappers have a comic!

they had, Monty wasn't about to try that route.

"You know," Dale said, staring at the famous statue, "I never knew she was walking forward before."

JOEL: How'd the statue get on the sub?

"You've never visited the island?" Monty asked, surprised.

TOM: [DALE] Nah, Dr. Moreau always creeped me out.

Dale shrugged. "Typical native, I guess."

CROW: "Typically naive" is a better term.

"Who do you think they are, Monty?" Gadget asked, looking darkly at the crew on deck.

TOM: Taking a break from her work, seeing as how Chip stopped breathing again.

"There's only one mouse I know who could ram a flying airplane with a submarine," Monty said in low tones. "Kapitenleutenant Jürgen."

JOEL: [MONTY] But since this sub rammed our bleach bottle aircraft, I 'aven't the foggiest as to who it is.

Right on time, a figure strode around the bridge.

CROW: Why? He's too good to walk on it?

He wore a white hat

JOEL: She wore a yellow ribbon.

[Joel and the Bots look at each other, then start swaying.]

ALL: [singing] We all work on a yellow submarine...

and walked past the men on deck.

TOM: Humans are part of the crew? Must be a tight fit inside the two-foot long sub.

Monty turned to face him, eyes flashing.

CROW: [MONTY] "If you can read this, yer too bloomin' close!"

"At least Zipper's still free," he said in a low voice to Dale.

JOEL: [DALE] Who? Oh, you mean that stupid fly that always hangs around HQ.

There was a thump behind Jürgen; a bat had swooped in and landed on the deck. He carried a small cage with an angry, buzzing fly.

CROW: It wasn't Zipper, but who cares?

"Thank you, Mr. Fenton," Jürgen nodded.

TOM: [JÜRGEN] But I ordered a Happy Meal, you twit.

"Scratch that," Dale couldn't resist saying. "So you know this guy, Monty?"

"Only by

CROW: [MONTY] Our time in Outdated Military Mice chat room.

reputation," growled Monty. "There's many a brave mariner sleeping in the arms of Neptune because of him and his kind."

JOEL: Oh, so he runs a dating service?

"They can keep company," Jürgen growled back, now close enough to hear, "with the brave and dutiful sub-mariners

TOM: I thought he was still alive. Isn't his comic run still going?

sent there by Naval aviation."

CROW: They were sent there by flying bellybuttons?

Monty and Jürgen were almost face to face now. Monty was by far the larger of the two; but Dale was acutely aware of the armed mice further down the ship (he didn't know enough to call it a 'boat')

TOM: Silly me! And here I thought they were on a sub all this time.

CROW: Aren't all boats submersible, though?

JOEL: Yeah, it's just the resurfacing part that most have a problem with.

- and besides, they had Zipper hostage.

TOM: Who cares? Flies come a dime a dozen.

Suddenly, and incomprehensibly,

CROW: Something worthwhile happened.

Jürgen and Monty broke into smiles and fell into one another's arms.

JOEL: Weeping like children.

It is a strange psychological quirk of old soldiers, but perhaps without it the

TOM: Story would be over really, really fast.

world would be even less pleasant than it is.

TOM: Wait. So Mr. Doom-and-Gloom Nowak himself is attempting to tell us that the world can be even more cold and dark?

"I can't tell you 'ow glad I am you survived the war," Monty smiled.

CROW: [MONTY] So I can kill you myself!

"I read your book, you magnificent bas - "

TOM: Bastion of evil?

CROW: Basted turkey?

JOEL: Bass player?

"It's good to meet you at last," Jürgen said,

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Whoever you are.

clapping the larger mouse on the back, interrupting in the nick of time. "You planes

JOEL: Shouldn't that be "U-Planes"?

CROW: Argh!

were the only thing that really gave me nightmares."

TOM: [JÜRGEN] Not counting whenever my boss smiles.

"Nightmares? I hope they were worse than the ones U-238 gave us! We called you

CROW: [MONTY] Things that can't be repeated in the presence of children.

TOM: [JÜRGEN] Gadget isn't that young.

CROW: [MONTY] I was speakin' of Dale's maturity level.

'The Swimming Cat.'"

JOEL: Don't most housecats hate to go in the water?

TOM: They probably came up with the name after their shore leave to the bars.

"No; really?" Jürgen smiled, boyishly pleased.

CROW: And thus, we see that this is just a regular Jürgen working for an evil and hateful boss.

TOM: Funny, I'm still not endeared to him. Odd.

"The mouse performing CPR over there is Geegaw's daughter, Gadget."

TOM: Heir to the Throne of Essex-

JOEL: [MONTY] The chipmunk killing off your men discreetly is Dale, but don't mind him. He gets hyper easily. And the fly in the cage is some pest that we can't seem to kill off. Care to do the honors?

Gadget looked up briefly. "Hi," she said before returning to her work.

"So tell me, Captain -"

JOEL: Kangaroo?

CROW: Caveman?

TOM: Commando?

"Jürgen, please."

ALL: Oh.

"Jürgen," and a crafty smile crossed Monty's features. "'Ave you ever

TOM: [singing] Really loved a woman?

wondered who would win? Just you and me? Without submarines and airplanes?"

CROW: Or "Chutes and Ladders", even.

"Certainly not," said Jürgen, quickly moving to keep his armed men between himself and Monty. It had been worth a shot, Dale figured.

JOEL: Which is the same thing the crew felt, quickly shooting Monty.

"What's the plan, Jürgen?" Monty asked, a little more coldly. "Piracy? I figure you're going to strip

CROW: Whoa! Even I'd rather see Kathy Lee doing that than Jürgen!

the Minuscule before salvage can get to her."

"Well, no," Jürgen admitted. "You see, I'm a hired hand."

TOM: [JÜRGEN] The rest of me is available for freelance work, though.

Again, with impeccable timing, the Gray Mouse stepped out of the bridge and walked towards them. She had been waiting for Albacore

ALL: Baltimore!

to reach a speed which would make her cape flutter dramatically.

TOM: Unfortunately, such a speed, for mice, was too fast, and they were all swept overboard and drowned. The End.

"I know you all by

CROW: Scent.

reputation," said the Gray Mouse. "But I've only met you, Mr. Chedderhead."

Monterey winced. "Monterey Jack, please."

JOEL: Yeah, it's embarrassing to be mistaken for your father.

"I don't blame you." An albino mouse girl...

TOM: [MONTY] Albino? Oh, you must be the "Gray" Mouse.

CROW: Not a hard leap of logic.

"Nancy from Darwin?"

CROW: Or Nancy from the Hardy Boys?

JOEL: No, I think he means Darwin's daughter.

Monty asked slowly. "No. You've an American accent,

TOM: Well, then she can't be from New York....

JOEL: [MONTY] Or maybe Canadian. Could you say "about"?

CROW: [MONTY] Or "shibboleth?"

JOEL: Very good. I'm impressed.

and she would've killed me by now.

TOM: It's nice to know Monty maintains a healthy relationship with his old girlfriends.

Besides, you're too young. If she had a daughter you'd be too old..."

"Monty," Gadget said disapprovingly. He shrugged.

Slowly, realization crept in. "But you've got two arms."

TOM: That was the slow realization?

CROW: Boy, it's easy to see how his perceptiveness just shot him up the ladder of command in the Navy.

The Gray Mouse froze, tilted her head back slightly.

JOEL: [Old man] Well what do you want me to do; freeze or tilt my head back? If I tilt my head back, I can't freeze, 'cause I'd be in motion, now wouldn't I?

With Jürgen, Monty's face had settled into grim determination; here, Dale was horrified to see genuine terror and a rending sorrow appear.

TOM: But not terribly surprised, considering the overall level of despair shown thus far.

"Widget," Monty was able to gasp out. "It is you, isn't it? But your arm--"

CROW: Is in Jürgen's backpack.

"And over there, that must be Little Gadget?" the Gray Mouse interrupted.

JOEL: [GADGET, sarcastically] No, I'm Minnie. This is my new make-over.

"Widget, I'm sorry!" Monty burst out.

Gadget looked up from Chip, her face a blank mask.

JOEL: Well, it's an improvement from her "usual" pensive and sorrowful expression.

"Widget," Monty continued, "She doesn't even know who you are."

TOM: Neither do we. What happened to the Gray Mouse?

"Next time you drown an unwanted kitten," Widget's voice cracked slightly,

CROW: Oh, she must be hitting puberty.

"you would be well advised to put some rocks in the blanket."

"Widget, it wasn't like that--" Monty tried to say.

TOM: [MONTY] We thought foam core would work just as well....

She snapped around. "Take them below," she barked to a suddenly impassive and distant Jürgen.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Hmm? Oh sorry, I was watching the hull rust. Did you say something?

===

Mr. Calvert was supervising the Hustling of the Prisoners. He did it fairly well, but long experience told Dale he was new at it.

JOEL: Dale's had long experience of being a hustled prisoner?

TOM: So that's what he's always doing on Tuesday nights!

"You seem a nice young man.

CROW: [DALE] But I also thought that dressing up in swim fins and a diaper would make me invisible, so what do I know?

So why did you join up with the forces of evil?" Dale asked.

Mr. Calvert shrugged. "I wanted to serve on subs, and with the Cold War over, just about the only mice building them any more are criminal masterminds."

TOM: That's assuming mice were ever building them at all.

JOEL: Hey, if the Ranger Tree can house a secret runway with a hundred rodent-sized fighter jets, I'm sure that a few dozen scaled subs are out there.

CROW: I doubt even Nowak would like to be compared to that particular fanfic....

"That bites," Dale commiserated.

TOM: Losing most of the readers with that last word.

"Oh, this one isn't bad," Mr. Calvert assured him.

JOEL: [CALVERT] She's horrible!

"At least she's smart enough to hire a first rate sub driver and let him drive his sub."

CROW: Sub driver? Does he have to wear a funny hat, stop at railroad tracks, and drop the kids off by three each school day?

JOEL: Hmmm..."sub" is "bus" backwards, after all...

"Did he really write a book?" Dale asked.

TOM: Is it really that important to your situation?

"It's not my fault we lost," Monty said sadly.

"Nobody's blaming you, Monty," Gadget said, patting his arm.

JOEL: [GADGET] Even if you are as guilty as sin.

"No," Mr. Calvert corrected. "That was the title of Captain Jürgen's second book.

JOEL: His second book was called "No"?

TOM: His first was "Can I Be Part of the Hip-Hop Nation By Wearing My Cap Backwards, Even Though I'm Old?"

The first one was before the war. A Theoretical Discussion on How We Could Use Subs if the Last Treaty Let Us Have Any." He opened a heavy watertight hatch to the brig.

"Here

CROW: [CALVERT] Is our modified veggie crisper. You guys like lettuce?

- I have to show this to you. It's a safety catch so you can open this door if it's locked."

"Uh... thanks," Dale said, wondering why they were showing this to prisoners.

"Unfortunately, you'll be locked in those cells over there," Mr. Calvert pointed. "so it really won't help you much."

CROW: Does Calvert always show safety features that people won't be using?

TOM: Nah, he just probably has to do that if he wants to keep his steward job.

===

"How's Chip doing?" Monty asked.

JOEL: Since he's unconscious, he's probably the happiest one here.

Gadget was resting an ear against Chip's chest, listening to his heartbeat.

CROW: [DALE] Can I have my ear back now?

Chip was lying on the bench in the cell. It was an actual brig, not

TOM: From concentrate.

a locked storeroom. There was no guard. "I thought he should be up by now," she said in a worried voice. She continued in a lowered voice. "I can open the door to our cage, but with Chip unconscious, I don't think it would be a good idea." Then, in a louder voice, she asked the question Monty was dreading.

JOEL: [GADGET] Do you know why my Angora sweaters are all stretched out?

"She's lying, isn't she Monty?"

TOM: I'd hardly say that Widget was taking this lying down.

Monty paused. It was the pause more than anything else that made her realize the truth. "Gadget, luv, have you ever heard of a mouse having one baby in a litter?"

CROW: No, but I have heard about a mouse having one baby in the recyclables. Does that count?

"What happened?" her voice was very soft.

===

JOEL: [MONTY] We were surrounded by equal signs.

"Thank you, doctor,"

CROW: [whoever's speaking] But I like my liver right where it is.

said a handsome young flier mouse who vaguely resembled Clark Gable.

TOM: Similar to how the Rangers in this fanfic vaguely resemble the Rangers in the series.

He signed a paper while his friend stood by silently. He looked up and smiled. "Monty and I will take them home ourselves."

JOEL: Yeah. Easier to set up the tragedy that way.

"Certainly, Mr. Hackwrench," the doctor said gently, "But are you sure you wouldn't like us to call you a cab?"

CROW: [DOCTOR] You're a cab! You're a cab!

"I think you've done quite enough already," Geegaw Hackwrench snarled.

JOEL: Oh, so this is where Gadget gets her loving and cheerful demeanor.

He forced himself to grin. "Besides, it's a beautiful night."

TOM: For a tragedy.

Monty caught the doctor's eyes and a silent communication flashed between them.

JOEL: He's nuts; get his legs. I'll grab his arms.

Don't push it.

CROW: [singing] Push it real good!

Monty and Geegaw both knew that the survival of even two of Sarah's babies was owing to the hospital. Knowing Geegaw, he would apologize later somehow, but for now the wound was too fresh. The doctor tried to turn invisible.

JOEL: He put on swim fins and a diaper?

"Monty," Geegaw said, lifting one of the two pink bundles from the hospital cradles, "This is

TOM: [GEEGAW] My lunch. Touch it and you're Kitty Kibble.

Gadget." Geegaw smiled down fondly. "Isn't she beautiful?"

CROW: [MONTY] I dunno, mate. You still 'ave 'er all wrapped up.

From previous experience with newborn babies, Monty gritted his teeth, looked down, and prepared to lie. To his astonishment, it wasn't necessary.

TOM: Geegaw liked hearing how ugly his kids looked. Made him feel better.

CROW: In this fanfic, "better" is just another spelling of "bitter".

Her hair was unusually thick, a color even Monty thought of as "golden" instead of "yellow" or "blonde."

JOEL: Because Gadget's hair color defies all attempts to place it in the visible light spectrum.

Her eyes were still closed and her hands clenched, waving feebly. "Jus' like a little jewel," Monty said honestly. "She's got her mother's fur."

CROW: Kind of a grotesque material to make a baby blanket out of.

Like her mother, Gadget was a single color all over instead of the two toned "pale belly" wild animal pattern of her father.

TOM: Huh. I never knew animals came in designer patterns.

Monty jerked his head up to see Geegaw's reaction,

CROW: As Geegaw beat the living stuffing out of the doctor.

afraid of reminding his friend of the death a few days before. To his relief, Geegaw smiled, maybe sadly, maybe tenderly.

TOM: Maybe drugged.

JOEL: People just aren't used to smiles in this fanfic, is all. Monty can't tell them apart.

Monty turned to pick up the second bundle. "This is Widget," Geegaw said, quite unnecessarily.

CROW: Why? The bundle had a name tag?

TOM: "Hello! My name is Future Nemesis."

There was a catch in his voice. "She's ...

JOEL: A lizard.

going to need a bit of luck."

TOM: In this fanfic? Prozac would be a better gift.

JOEL: Or therapy.

Widget wiggled weakly in Monty's arms. Her hair was gray, her fur white

CROW: So, they naturally nicknamed her the "Gray Baby".

as a lab mouse's; and Monty knew her eyes were pink. Her arm was curled and motionless; Monty had known she was missing a limb, but seeing it gone was vaguely unsettling.

TOM: Seeing it lying in the wastebasket, though, was really disturbing.

Still, he felt his heart go out to the little creature in his arms.

CROW: Whatever this freak of nature was.

Don't you go dyin' on yer father, luv, he thought sternly. 'E's 'ad too much to bear already. He smiled and touched her face; Widget turned to suck at his finger.

"Hey, she's got you for an old man," Monty joshed his friend gently.

JOEL: [MONTY] How much 'appiness can she really expect?

"There ain't a disreputable dockside bar nor an oil stained landing strip twixt 'ere and Afghanistan where she ain't royalty."

TOM: Oh yeah, those are the first places I'd want to bring my newborns.

Geegaw laughed.

JOEL: Able to see the humor in his wife and other children dying, and one of his surviving daughters missing an arm.

CROW: [GEEGAW] Ain't life wacky? H'yuk!

As they passed through the front door, into the darkness,

TOM: Of the Nowakverse.

he looked at Widget a little longingly, as though he felt he

JOEL: Could see her co-starring with Harrison Ford in a movie about a fugitive.

should carry them both. No, more than that; as though he knew he would have less time with Widget, and he wanted all the time with her he could have.

"Wanna swap?" Monty asked lightly, holding Widget out.

TOM: [MONTY] I figure she's worth at least a slice of Swiss. Maybe Cheddar.

Geegaw recovered and shook his head firmly. "It's not like you'll drop her, Monty."

JOEL: [sniffs] I smell it again, guys....

TOM: Well, it's been beaten to death by now....

He turned away from him. "I know you can't hang around long- but will you stay for Sarah's funeral?"

CROW: That's a bit depressing....

"I'm 'ere as long as you need me, cobber," Monty said casually. "'Ave you decided 'bout ..."

TOM: [MONTY] Lettin' me 'ave Sarah's old button collection?

"Their two brothers," Geegaw finished for him. He shook his head. "I don't know, Monty. They were never really alive..."

CROW: And that's really depressing.

JOEL: I don't know guys. I just think this fanfic is missing that little trace of light-heartedness that the series had.

A Human car passed by the two mice walking on the sidewalk. Monty sighed to himself.

TOM: [MONTY] This might be a bad time to tell him that these are really my kids....

So much to do, and he hadn't the experience to help his friend. He was running through a list of his own relations, wondering if there were any

JOEL: That didn't want him dead.

he'd entrust with Geegaw's children, and felt oddly disturbed that so many of the dinkum cobbers of his life were also men he wouldn't trust to change one of Widget's diapers.

TOM: Gadget's diapers would be fine, of course.

CROW: What about Aunt Blue? She wears diapers, herself.

Monty watched as the car went behind them. The headlights of the car washed over an alley and Monty froze when he saw two eyes flash in the darkness.

JOEL: What is this with all the eyes flashing? Do people have signal lamps for retinas?

"I suppose we should -"

TOM: [GEEGAW] Start the first musical number. We hit the depression quota.

(To the tune of "I'll Make a Man Out Of You" from Mulan)

CROW: [GEEGAW]Filling up the graveyards,
with my kith, and kin.
Why continue living?
there's no way - to win!

TOM: [MONTY]It's a bad week, mate
I won't deny
You lost your wife,
two sons, and all.
Still I'll say, life can be
quite a ball.

CROW: [GEEGAW]Life's a time for mourning,
sitting 'tween long sleeps.
If I think about it,
Then I get - the creeps!

TOM: [MONTY]That Gadget's cute.
You watch her close,
or she'll have kids,
while she's in school.
Despite that, life can be
rather cool.

CROW: [WIDGET, translated from Baby in subtitles]I'm hungering for some ones death;
Some one who never knew me.

TOM: [GADGET, translated from Baby in subtitles]This is so dull I wish I had some tools.

CROW: [WIDGET, translated from Baby in subtitles]Let me see my invoice now,
I think something wasn't shipped here.

TOM: [GADGET, translated from Baby in subtitles]This guy likes me so I'll play it cool.

[A CHORUS of dancing skeletons from the Mexico pavilion in EPCOT Center descends from the ceiling without any explanation]

CHORUS:(End it all...)

CROW [GEEGAW]:Perhaps I'll jump into raging waters,

CHORUS:(End it all...)

CROW [GEEGAW]: Or fly a fast plane into the ground,

CHORUS: (End it all...)

CROW [GEEGAW]: As this story unfolds,
I don't wanna be around!

[The CHORUS is retracted to the ceiling. JOEL bursts into applause.]

JOEL: Bravo! Much better than that lame "Das Boot" host segment we started with.

TOM: Thanks, Joel.

CROW: We wanted to use it there, but this fits better.

"Not now," Monty said in soft, dead, tones.

Geegaw looked over. "Cat?" he asked, in a low voice.

"At six o'clock,

CROW: Oh, then they have nothing to worry about it! It's already past ten.

thirty feet, in an alley."

They started to move a little faster.

TOM: Just a little. No rush.

JOEL: Yeah, it's a beautiful night.

There was every chance it was a lazy, full house cat, or that they were already too far to make a tempting target. Cats tended to hunt in a small area. What was the word?

CROW: Near-sighted.

Pelagic. Like submarines.

JOEL: Oh, hey! Now that's a metaphor!

TOM: I bet you this whole fanfic was written strictly so Nowak could use it.

CROW: Wait, let me look it up ... hey, guys, it means "Of the ocean waters." Nowak thinks cats are amphibious!

TOM: That would explain the crack about swimming cats earlier.

Widget whimpered, perhaps sensing Monty's fear.

CROW: But actually smelling it.

Monty took another look behind them.

And saw it gliding softly towards them, like a hole cut into the night.

CROW: I've heard of portable holes, but come on....

"RUN!"

TOM: [MONTY] Not towards the cat, you dolt!

They hunkered down, arms wrapped around their precious passengers,

JOEL: I have to admit, though, the cat knows where the best territory is; right by the hospital.

CROW: Yeah, really easy to weed out the elderly and infirm from the mice herds.

sprinting. Monty's eyes scanned desperately, looking for a hole or storm grate - but he realized his friend knew the area better. And Geegaw made a terrible mistake.

TOM: [GEEGAW] Oh hey, a churros cart! I haven't had those in ages! You want one, Monty?

JOEL: Ah, so Geegaw really is responsible for Widget's present state!

Perhaps he was thinking only of getting to home

CROW: On time to watch the Knick's game.

and safety, but he went out over the bridge connecting this island with his airport.

CROW: Which island?

JOEL: This one.

CROW: Which airport?

TOM: His.

The cat was soon on the bridge, padding towards them, a little louder now that it knew it had been spotted. Geegaw came to a sudden stop, staring at his friend and panting. Monty looked up at the cables stretching into the night, and looked at him, questioningly.

JOEL: [GEEGAW] Yes, the cables are still there -- I told you they weren't migratory!

"We can't out climb a cat," Geegaw said firmly. "We can out swim it."

"You're right," Monty muttered. "May the Virgin Minnie

TOM: Okay -- that's a mental image I really don't need cluttering up my databanks.

be with us now."

"If I don't make it,

CROW: [GEEGAW] It's your fault.

take care of Widget."

"Like she was mine, buddy."

JOEL: Considering Monterey's lifestyle, she might be better off with the cat.

The cat was close enough for the last sprint that would take them both down. They jumped.

JOEL: Taut action scene, huh guys?

CROW: [yawn] Yeah, whatever.

TOM: Zzzzzz--snerk! Hmm? What? Are they dead yet?

It was a long drop, the water horribly cold. Even though it was early summer, water takes the heat out of a mouse much faster than it will out of a human.

CROW: Just can't go a scene without bringing in the scientific details, can you, Nowak?

TOM: "Dropping at a constant acceleration of 9.8 meters per second squared, until the drag from air resistance..."

Geegaw had his hand over Gadget's nose and mouth, and kicked desperately back to the surface. He breached, holding his screaming daughter far above his head.

JOEL: Welcome to Nowak's cold and numbing world, Gadget.

CROW: Where the dead mourn the living.

TOM: Here it's better to die young or not live at all.

Then he rolled over onto his back like an otter, holding the crying Gadget on his chest while he kicked for shore.

She's all right, he thought hysterically, stumbling up the beach. She's going to be all right.

JOEL: Oh yeah, he sounds packed full of intensity there, all right.

TOM: This might have been a good place for an exclamation mark.

Both he and Gadget were shaking uncontrollably with the cold. "Monty!"

CROW: Python!

he yelled. "MONTY!"

CROW: PYTHON!

He saw Monty in the distance. Monty was walking towards him like a zombie, staggering on the slick rocks.

CROW: [GEEGAW] Nuts, he lived.

JOEL: Is Monty returning from another bar?

His hands were by his side, seaweed clenched in his fingers.

CROW: [GEEGAW] How will I tell her mother - hey, I don't have to! D'oh!

He was shaking, worse than Geegaw, but he didn't feel the cold.

ALL: Butterfingers!

===

"Then my father didn't abandon her?" Gadget was visibly elated.

"Of course not!" Monty was genuinely shocked.

TOM: [MONTY] I did! You think he'd be glad that I was thinkin' about cuttin' back on schoolin' costs for him, but noooooo. I tell ya, after losin' his wife, an' his sons, an' then his daughter, it's like he wasn't fun t' be with.

"He'd just lost his wife, and two sons -- Geegaw loved Widget."

Gadget gave him a wordless, one armed hug.

CROW: I thought Widget was the daughter who only had one arm.

"Would you believe he never blamed me?" He started crying.

JOEL: [GADGET] Okay, okay! I believe you! Sheesh, you big baby.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Gadget asked.

JOEL: Because then the plot wouldn't be nearly as poignant.

"I just kept tellin' myself

TOM: [MONTY] What she don't know can't hurt her. Boy, was that a crock of Limburger.

I'd tell you some day, that I was holdin' off to spare your feelin's. 'Bad enough she lost 'er father, why tell 'er she almost 'ad a sister?'" He shook his head. "Bottom line;

CROW: [MONTY] I should've sold Widget off to Gypsies instead.

Widget was a mate's little girl and I shouldn't 'ave swum to shore without 'er."

Gadget shook her head. "Monty, we know you did your -"

JOEL: [GADGET] Homework tonight, but you still can't watch this movie. It's too intense for simple minds.

The door swung open and Widget entered, applauding slowly and sarcastically.

"Very nice," she said. "Almost plausible."

TOM: Seeing as how it's the main theme in this fanfic, let's hope so.

Gadget and Dale shot a glance at one another No guards,

CROW: And no periods, either.

but listening devices. Had she also overheard them plotting to escape?

JOEL: Did she need to overhear to guess?

TOM: What heroes don't plot to escape?

"Except no evidence was found you had been chased by cats," Widget finished.

JOEL: Unless...it was destroyed in a government cover-up!

BOTS: [gasp]

Monterey sighed. "What sort of evidence would it leave? A signed card,

TOM: [card] Sorry I missed you at the bridge. Hope you drown in a watery grave, vermin.

'Hi, I'm a cat, and I just chased two mice carrying babies off this bridge?' Just because they couldn't prove there were cats doesn't mean there weren't any. That's why they didn't take Gadget away from --"

"I know what your story was," Widget snorted. "But the truth is that since he had Little Miss Pick of the Litter here, Daddy Dearest didn't want to be bothered with some one armed distorted freak."

JOEL: Sounds like she's got a chip on her shoulder.

TOM: I guess it would have to be her right shoulder! Hah!

CROW: And Gadget has a Chip on the floor, so they're even.

"Our father wouldn't do that," Gadget flared up.

CROW: I didn't know Gadget had hemorrhoids.

She rattled the bars of the cage. "You never knew him, so I --"

JOEL: [GADGET] Envy you! The mouse did not understand the concept of soap!

"Your Electra complex is showing, dear," Widget interrupted sweetly.

JOEL: Uh, Widget, you really aren't in the position to throw stones, dear.

"Widget," Monty snapped. "'Ow did you find out who your father was?

TOM: [MONTY] I thought I destroyed all those records.

You found missing mouse reports, the posters Geegaw put up. Right? 'E kicked up an awful fuss for a kid who, 'ccordin' to you, 'e didn't want. Otherwise you'd never know who you are. Right?"

CROW: [MONTY] Right? Right!? Well, c'me on! Admit it!

"He had to present a good story. I never said he was dumb."

TOM: [WIDGET] Just unprofessional. When I drown babies, they never return as arch-villains.

"You can really imagine someone doing that?" Dale asked, visibly shaken.

JOEL: Not really, but Nowak could, so why belabor the point?

Widget looked at him, and spoke patiently. "That's how people treat cripples. You couldn't understand."

TOM: [DALE] Are you kidding? With my mental handicap?

"Where did you grow up?" Monterey asked slowly, a horrible image of

JOEL: Kenny G doing a cover of "We Will Rock You".

Widget's childhood forming in his mind. Somewhere she'd grow

CROW: Actually, she'd grow anywhere. Growth is really a genetic thing, more than an environment deal.

to expect that sort of treatment.

"I grew up in this city," Widget snorted. "I suppose my adoptive mother pulled me out of the river.

TOM: But why go into the useless details of that? We have to get back to the description of the sub's controls soon.

She used me as a prop while panhandling. She finally overdosed

JOEL: From panhandling?

TOM: From panhandling too successfully, maybe...

when I was fourteen or so, but by then I was spending most of my time in the landfill, building things,

CROW: Lots of things. Tons of things. You don't need to know.

so I didn't need her."

"Granted, you've met a lot of people who would, but Geegaw couldn't have abandoned you," Dale said flatly.

TOM: [DALE] Otherwise this fanfic is really in need of psychiatric treatment.

Widget lifted an eyebrow. "You never met him."

JOEL: [DALE] I've seen his grave. How different can it be?

"I know the daughter he raised," Dale pointed out. "If Geegaw Hackwrench were capable of drowning his daughter, Gadget would either hate him or

TOM: [DALE] Become so involved in her inventions as to ignore any attempts by others at a relationship....uh, that really didn't help as much as I thought it would.

be a monster herself. As it is, there's nothing wrong with her a few months of therapy couldn't clear up-"

"Thanks, Dale," Gadget whispered.

"-And even that's because she loves him so much she can't say goodbye to him. He deserved that from her. Therefore, he loved you."

JOEL: Okay, let's see: Monty has had Navy training and been in a war, Dale is ready to rival Freud in terms of psychoanalysis, and Gadget is the epitome of isolation and inner turmoil.

CROW: All right, who are you people and what did you do with the real Rangers?!

TOM: Boy, will Widget be embarrassed to find she actually captured the Rangers' "Angst" doubles.

"Love's a word people use when they want something," Widget snorted. "I've learned that, at least."

JOEL: Every girl that went to prom learned that.

"Say," Gadget interrupted, suddenly fascinated.

TOM: [GADGET] You'd probably know; what is the sound of one hand clapping?

"Did you build that arm?"

Widget moved her left arm slightly. "Nobody gave it to me."

"How do you get enough torque to move the fingers so smoothly and quickly?" Monterey sighed and closed his eyes.

CROW: Why would Monty care?

JOEL: Just making conversation, I guess.

TOM: Oh, yeah, call attention to the thing that makes Widget consider herself a freak. Great topic.

"Oh." Widget moved her left hand closer to her sister,

TOM: So it'd be easier to throttle Little Miss Pick of the Litter.

who looked at it with absorbed interest.

CROW: [WIDGET] It's a system of pulleys and windmills. I can't do anything with it unless I'm standing in a Gale.

"The motor cocks springs in my forearm. Then I release the springs to move the fingers."

TOM: How? If you have to use your other hand, it defeats the whole point!

"You only articulated two fingers and the thumb, didn't you?" Gadget asked. "Your third finger just echoes the motion of the second."

"Exactly. You might also notice that I have three different gear ratios on the elbow. There's a cam to keep the motion from being too regular."

JOEL: [WIDGET] I also prefer 5W25 oil, Intel processors, and guys that look like Buck Rogers.

"Golly! That is absolutely first class work," Gadget said, impressed.

TOM: Aw, guys, they're bonding!

"Widget," Monterey interrupted, making his second major mistake of the day.

JOEL: With Monty, is it really necessary to even keep track?

"Gadget didn't even know you existed until today. She didn't have anything to do with it, even if --"

Widget looked up sharply, as Monterey reminded her.

CROW: [WIDGET] Oh yeah, I'm supposed to be generating an aura of evil and death, aren't I? Is my face red....

"She benefited from it," she said. "Oh, and don't bother trying to offer yourself as a sacrifice. I hate it when people do that.

CROW: So how many people have offered themselves as sacrifices to Widget?

JOEL: It's probably equal to the number of times Dale has been hustled along as a prisoner.

Well, sis, this has been fun,

JOEL: For who? Nobody laughs wholesomely in this fanfic.

but I've got work to do."

"Widget, luv," Monty said slowly. "This won't make you feel better."

TOM: That's what Dramamine is for.

Widget froze for a moment, uncertainly, and then stalked out with a determined stride.

===

"I was listening at the microphones," Jürgen said tentatively.

TOM: [JÜRGEN] But I think if I was listening at the speakers I would have heard more.

The Gray Mouse hesitated. "And?"

CROW: [JÜRGEN] You can't guess?

"I think they're right."

She stopped and gave him a hostile look.

JOEL: Seeing as how that was the only kind she ever gave him, though, he failed to grasp the importance of it.

Now that he knew she was a cripple, she had to make certain he didn't decide she was a weakling as well.

TOM: And thus began to tear his head off.

"That arm is first rate work," Jürgen went on to explain. "All this time

CROW: [JÜRGEN] I thought Tinker Toys weren't good for anything.

I thought you just had a touch of bursitis."

"Oh." She lifted her hand, turned it at the wrist. "Thank you. I'm right handed, so I guess it isn't as obtrusive."

JOEL: Since she only had her right arm growing up, wouldn't it be hard to be left-handed?

TOM: Nowak would do that.

JOEL: You're right. He would.

"Seriously, you should contact a hospital.

TOM: They could use a good laugh.

I think you could teach them a lot."

CROW: About what? Carrying grudges? Sinking innocent ships? Planning the death of family members?

"I think I will," she said, liking the idea. "I mean, I'll need a new vocation once I wreak my vengeance."

TOM: Instantly goes from vengeful, hating entity to caring helper of the needy. Makes perfect sense.

"Do you mind if I call you 'Widget?'"

CROW: Or do you prefer "Clapper-impaired"?

Widget looked at him solemnly. "It's just a name. My foster mother used another one, and she's really the one who taught me about people."

JOEL: [WIDGET] But she always skimmed over that bit concerning the birds and the bees.

"What did she call you?"

"'Li'l Freako.'"

JOEL: Er...cute.

TOM: Yeah, makes me want to have it embroidered on my gym bag, I tell you.

"Ah." Jürgen hesitated. "I think ... I'd prefer to use 'Widget'."

CROW: And I think I'd prefer to use the exit.

TOM: You're in luck. It's time.

[Joel and the Bots exit. Door sequence is run in reverse.]

[SoL]

[We see GYPSY. She wears a gray wig with mouse ears, has a pink lens over her flashlight "eye," and a black outfit with a cape on her hose neck. She moves from left to right and stops. Doorbell sound effect.]

[CROW pops up from behind the counter. He wears a leather helmet, mustache, and mouse ears.]

CROW: G'day, Sheila! An' what can the Rangers do for ya, by too-ra-loo?

GYPSY: Well, you don't know me, but I'm a foundling, and I think I might be -

CROW: Widget?!

GYPSY: I think so.

CROW: Gadget! Come up here! [TOM appears, wearing a purple jumpsuit, goggles, a blonde wig, and mouse ears.] This is the sister you never knew you had, separated by cruel misfortune. 'Er name's Widget.

TOM: I... I have a sister?

[TOM throws himself into GYPSY's arms (uhm, or whatever).]

TOM: Oh, Widget, I'm so glad you're alive! Now we can be a family!

CROW: Saaaaay - you're not plotting any evil revenge are you?

GYPSY: For what? It was probably an accident.

[JOEL stands up.]

JOEL: This public service message brought to you by the Foundation for Showing How Disney Characters Really Act.

Chapter Eight : Chip's Inferno

TOM: What about our inferno?

Chip came to in a waiting room. The only other occupant was Dale, wearing a sheet. Chip looked down in surprise and saw he was wearing a sheet a well.

CROW: Oh, God, they've joined the...

JOEL: No, Crow. Even Nowak wouldn't do that.

TOM: You promise?

[Pause]

JOEL: No, I can't... I just can't.... [JOEL buries his face in his hands and starts to emit heartrending sobs.]

"Dale?" Chip asked.

"Hi, Chip." There was a certain lack of animation in Dale's voice.

CROW: Look, Joel, we'll let you take this one. It will make you feel better.

[JOEL continues to sob.]

TOM: Darn cheap Korean animation studios!

CROW: Tom!

TOM: Time waits for no bot.

Chip felt horror.

JOEL: The... fanfic isn't over?

CROW: Good to have you back.

JOEL: Thanks, buddy.

"Monterey, Gadget, Zipper.

CROW: Who?

TOM: The fly.

CROW: There's a fly in this?!

JOEL: Well, not really. No.

Didn't they... make it?" he asked, frightened.

CROW: Monterey, Gadget, and Zipper?!

JOEL: He's imaginative, I grant you that....

"None of us did." Dale shrugged tiredly.

CROW: I just realized they're dead and the story still isn't over.

ALL: AAAAAGGGH!

"Zipper's relatives are laying eggs on us even as we speak."

TOM: Oh, great. When I think of the Rescue Rangers from now on, I'll remember that line. Thank you so much, Nowak.

"Then this is ... Heaven?" Chip looked around, appalled. He had expected it to look less like the waiting room in a bus station.

CROW: Even eternal bliss is depressing in the hands of--

"You Wish," intoned a deep and commanding voice from all around them.

Visions of his life before he found the bomber jacket passed through his head. Chip gulped. "I didn't think we'd go to aitch ee double hockey sticks for pestering Donald --"

CROW: [CHIP] But after spending some time in the Nowakverse, I've got to admit Hell looks pretty good to me now.

"Not Quite," intoned the voice. "We All Have Sins To Make Retribution For.

TOM: Joel, does that mean Nowak will be punished for writing this?

JOEL: I think so.

TOM: Good.

This Is The Place Where One Earns Redemption, That One May Rest Eternally, Confident That One's Sins Are Forgiven."

TOM: It Is For Your Own Good. Trust Me On This.

"Well, uh... I feel pretty good about myself," Chip said nervously.

CROW: Like we didn't know that already.

"Me too!" yelped Dale. "I think I've made retribution already!"

JOEL: [DALE] I've been in this fanfic, and I was in Shadow Warrior, and I was sort of in Rangers of NIMH....

"Yep, my soul's at peace --"

CROW: [CHIP] And it was all Dale's fault anyway! Punish him! Punish him!

"Nice Try." A door opened. "This Way."

JOEL: You know, I can't decide if this is a Higher Being speaking, or someone is just having fun with the P.A. System.

TOM: Attention. This Is God. The Earth Will Be Closing In Five Minutes.

They walked a bridge over a vast cauldron of bubbling cheese,

CROW: So, in this afterlife, retribution is achieved by exercising constructed spans?

a fondue stretching to the horizons. In the distance, a figure breached out of the fondue to gain a moment's relief from the agony -- and to scream...

TOM: [FIGURE] I forgot the breadsticks!

"Monty," Chip gasped.

TOM: So they're dead and they're in purgatory?

CROW: The Rescue Rangers are dead and they're in purgatory?

JOEL: It can't get any worse. It just can't...

The end of the bridge behind them detached and dropped into the sizzling cheese. Without a word, they turned and ran, hoping the far end of the bridge was still secure. Faster they raced, not daring to look behind them, hearts pounding and lungs bursting. There was a door dimly visible in the distance. They redoubled their efforts, made a desperate leap -- and made it.

TOM: Cliché Cliffhanger # 116. Collect Them All!

"Is this where we're spending eternity?" asked Dale.

"One Of You Will Make Retribution Here."

TOM: I just know Nowak's going to throw in a mask with two rats in it.

JOEL: He might hear you...

TOM: Sorry.

Chip and Dale looked at one another, eyes brimming with tears.

"I guess this is it, old buddy," said Chip.

CROW: [CHIP] I love you, Dale.

TOM: [DALE] I love you, Chip....

"Since this may be the last time we see each other, I won't mention how you led us to our deaths and all," Dale said, voice cracking.

"Uh, thanks, buddy."

TOM: I liked our lines better.

The room had a water cooler and an office cubicle. In the cubicle was a chipmunk sized chair and Pentium computer.

CROW: Which, oddly enough, was human-sized.

Chip lifted the thick desk calendar, with a badly drawn but scathingly insightful cartoon. The first page said "Monday: 20th Century." The second said "Monday: 21st Century." The last panel of each cartoon was crossed out, the punch lines unreadable.

JOEL: Uh, then how could Chip tell it was "scathingly insightful"?

TOM: Joel! Have you forgotten the Nowak Principle? "Don't bring in the details unless they're pointless to the story."

He flicked to "Monday: 25th Century" before he got the point.

CROW: I get it. Nowak works in an office.

JOEL: Oh. I feel his pain, now.

TOM: Yeah. No wonder he has to inflict torment on cartoon characters.

Chip felt a force pulling him away, drifting back from Dale and the cubicle. Dale's clothes changed to black jacket, tie, and a white shirt: a dressing style which had been out of favor in the computer industry since the early 1980s but which still had horrific power for one who preferred Hawaiian shirts.

TOM: [DALE] I'm... in "Gattaca"?!

ALL: AAAAAGH!

"Dale," intoned The Voice. "For The Sins You Have Committed In Life, Of Sloth And Gluttony, You Are Sentenced To Find All The Bugs In This GUI Operating System, And Thus Find Redemption."

CROW: Anyone want to bet what Nowak's job is?

JOEL: No.

"There must be a mistake," Dale quavered. "I don't know anything about computers."

"You'd Best Start Studying Then."

JOEL: On the job technical training. You gotta love it.

"No," gasped Dale. Then, a howl: "NOOOOOooooo!"

A steel door slammed between them.

TOM: "Them"?

CROW: All those letter "o"s.

Chip tried to keep from quaking with fear as another room formed around them. Wood, arched ceilings, stained glass - a church. His sheet transformed into an elegant tuxedo. A sense of bliss came over him, and he turned, wondering what the catch was. With Monterey a piece of stale bread in a celestial party dish and Dale forced to work Quality Assurance, what would his own fate be?

TOM: [CHIP] I'm back in Nowak's fanfic. I'm not in Hell after all. Hey- wait a minute....

Gadget solidified, in a white wedding dress with a long train, bouquet clutched in her hands, tears trickling down her delicate and beautiful features. Chip felt his heart go out to her.

ALL: EEEEEWW!

He knew somehow, they would be together forever, that this was their eternal union. He had to say something to express his love.

CROW: [CHIP] Did you know chipmunks are... gifted?

"Hominahominahomina..."

That wasn't it.

CROW: Did that line work with any of your girlfriends, Joel?

JOEL: Well... one.

"Gadget Hackwrench," intoned The Voice. "For The Sins You Have Committed In Life..."

TOM: I heard that one about Bill Gates.

Gadget flashed Chip a single, hate-filled glance before bursting into tears.

CROW: Oh, I get it! John Nowak is really Julie Bihn!

Chapter Nine : Goldberg's Revenge

Chip awoke screaming.

JOEL: Oh, look - they're not dead!

ALL: AAAAAAUGH!

He found himself tied up, sitting on a shelf, a long distance above a tile floor.

CROW: He found it... strangely pleasurable.

[JOEL coughs.]

A cord led from his bonds upwards, between two metal plates set at right angles to one another. It was obviously some sort of fiendish deathtrap.

CROW: Or the start of a romantic evening.

JOEL: Strike two.

CROW: Darn.

He sighed in relief. "Only a dream..." he murmured, ecstatic.

There was a Gray Mouse on the floor, some distance away. She looked at him, and blinked her pink eyes. "That must have been some dream," she said.

CROW: Isn't it great that Chip spontaneously uses the same nickname Jürgen came up with so we'd know who he was talking about?

JOEL: Even though she's a white mouse?

Dale was tied a short distance from him. He was sitting on the trap bar of a mousetrap. "Chip's all right!" he exclaimed.

CROW: [DALE] At least, for Chip!

TOM: And aside from being in deadly peril, but oh well.

"That's what Zipper told ya," Monty yelled in a voice muffled by the coffee grinder he was standing in.

JOEL: And a preposition is not something one should end a sentence with.

TOM: That is the sort of nonsense up with which I will not put.

JOEL: Good one. High five?

TOM: My arms don't work.

"How could Zipper tell?" Chip asked groggily. He now saw Zipper above him on a window sill, taped firmly to a coil of wire.

"It's a Fly thing," Monty explained. "Best not to think on it."

JOEL: I'm trying not to. I'm trying not to....

"Who's Pink Eyes?" Chip asked.

TOM: A very unwise thing to call someone who holds a gun to your head.

"Gadget's twin sister," Dale explained briefly. "Widget, Chip. Chip, Widget."

Waboom.

ALL: MONTY! [Wave hands and choke.]

That was the sound effect of Chip's mind coming to grips with the fact Gadget not only had a sister, but Gadget's sister wanted to kill them all.

CROW: Didn't the same thing happen in Sisters?

Apart from his hat leaping off his head, performing a back flip, and landing once more, Chip was able to maintain composure admirably.

TOM: And Chip actually behaves like a cartoon character!

JOEL: Savor the moment. There won't be another.

"I hate friends' family reunions. You don't know anyone, and -"

Dale shrugged non-commitally. "I've been to worse; I've been to better."

JOEL: Which sums up the reaction to this fanfic.

Chip looked around. Where was Gadget?

CROW: She was resuming her career in Vegas.

"Let me explain what's going on here,"

JOEL: [WIDGET] Angst-ridden revenge focusing on Gadget.

TOM: [CHIP] Oh, so we're in a fanfic.

Widget began. "We're in the Grand Hall of the old immigration center on Trellis Island. Your little princess is locked in a cage in the next room. Now I'm going to get technical, so please try to stay with me.

CROW: NOOOOOOO!

[CROW is comforted by JOEL.]

"First, El Tubbo next to you gets launched by the mousetrap. His weight pulls you up between those two metal plates. You close an electrical circuit and lose all interest in subsequent events. Resistance is useless." A smile flickered over her face. Chip shuddered.

TOM: With a pun like that, so would I.

"Nevertheless, I will continue the scenario, to satisfy your intellectual curiosity and that of your briefly mourning comrades.

JOEL: I had a shop teacher like her.

TOM: And you miss Earth?!

"The electrical circuit powers a bug zapper." Here she pointed at Zipper. "As he turns into a charcoal briquette and crumbles,

CROW: The rest of the Rangers cheer!

the weight tied to him drops, and throws the switch on the coffee grinder." She pointed to Monterey. "It's set to 'Extra Fine.' Or do you prefer percolators?"

JOEL: [dubiously] Is this going too far?

TOM: Well, Fat Cat did attempt to grind all the Rangers and two children into cat food... I say we let it slide.

"Who are you calling 'El Tubbo?'" Dale suddenly barked.

CROW: Abruptly remembering his personality....

Widget covered her eyes for a moment. "Maybe I should let you live. But I'm not that cruel. As the electrical current makes an ash out of Fearless Leader, the nylon string holding you two together will melt. Butterball drops onto this electrically heated skillet --" she flicked a slice of bacon onto the electric range and smiled as it crisped "-- try not to stick to the pan!"

JOEL: So she carries mouse-sized strips of bacon around with her so she can prove surfaces are hot?

TOM: This surprises you?

JOEL: I guess not.

CROW: Maybe she just hates being caught at a breakfast buffet that only serves Spam.

TOM: "Make $10,000 With Your Internet Account."

Chip tried to remain impassive. Gadget is locked in a cage. She can pick the lock with her tail and --

TOM: Escape to an Angst-free fanfic!

JOEL: They exist?

TOM: Don't shatter my illusion, Joel.

Widget frowned. "I'm surprised Gadget's taking this long. We can't start the party without her."

CROW: [WIDGET] Nobody else wants to jump out of the cake, after all.

Chip spoke slowly. "What ... what do you mean?"

JOEL: Chip is confused because usually when people are targets of a hideous and grisly revenge, it's done by someone they've met before!

TOM: The central conflict of this story really isn't very good, is it Joel?

"Oh, I forgot to mention. You see, Gadget will be breaking free, and when she opens the door into here, she'll trigger the mousetrap." Widget paused. "You see, with her mechanical genius (almost equal to mine)

TOM: Can people talk in parentheses?

JOEL: Only mammals, Tom (some sort of evolution deal).

she'll instantly realize what she's thrown into action. She might be able to stop it before all of you die. Or not.

"I think anything I could do to her afterwards would be anticlimactic, don't you?"

TOM: [CHIP] Here's my idea for a hideous revenge. You let us go, and live our lives in Nowak's universe.

CROW: [WIDGET] Too cruel.

"Actually, I had a question for you," Chip asked.

"It's traditional. Go ahead."

TOM: [CHIP] Your left arm looks a little stiff - maybe I can massage it and make it feel better.

"The Ranger Plane was shot down by a weapon that burst the balloon without hurting us."

"Special anti-balloon shrapnel," Widget confirmed.

JOEL: A standard warhead for all U-boats, to be sure.

"Why not use something that would kill us all?"

CROW: [WIDGET] Evil nemesis union rules.

Widget sighed happily. She was so glad someone had asked. "Because revenge is a dish best served with living ingredients."

"How long did it take you to write that line?" Chip asked, puzzled.

JOEL: [CHIP] If it was more than fifteen seconds, you were wasting your time.

"Anyway," Widget said, ignoring Chip with an annoyed expression, "Jürgen and I are off to celebrate. See you in the funny papers."

TOM: No, they canceled the comic years ago.

"Obituary," Jürgen corrected.

"Like I said."

JOEL: Oh, she'll make a fine hospital worker, all right.

CROW: [WIDGET] Hmm? Five patients died today? Oh, that's a riot!

Chip fixed Jürgen with a scowl. "How can you devote your talents, courage and skill to implementing the will of an evil maniac?"

TOM: [CHIP] Whoever you are.

CROW: It's a good thing everyone in this fanfic wears name tags, which also include work experience and personal history.

"It's not the first time," Jürgen and Monty said simultaneously, and looked at one another strangely.

CROW: Chip 'n' Dale show us the light hearted side of denazification.

"Besides," Widget explained. "I'm not evil. I'm a Byronic hero."

CROW: The Six-Million Dollar Mouse?

JOEL: Not "bionic", Crow.

TOM: I wouldn't be so sure, Joel. She's already got the cyborg look going.

"Chip," Dale asked, "What's 'Byronic'?"

TOM: Wait, let me field this one... "of, like, or characteristic of Byron or his writings; romantic, passionate, cynical, ironic, etc." Thank you so very much, Webster's New World.

"It means a hero who acts like a villain," Chip explained.

Dale blinked.

===

TOM: Hmm. Text-based plywood.

Gadget was on all fours, the tip of her tail probing gently within the lock mechanism. She shifted her hips slightly, closed her eyes in concentration, and lightly licked her lips.

CROW: Should we be watching this?

===

"Should we be watching this?"

JOEL: You looked ahead.

CROW: Did not! I swear!

asked Mr. Fenton, staring at the monitor in the bridge of Albacore. The various displays aboard the submarine were originally Human sized- Heads Up Displays, designed to fit in glasses or goggles. They were just about rodent sized.

CROW: Oh, spare us not a single instant of your technical background!

"We're supposed to in case they need assistance," Mr. Calvert explained, eyes glued to the monitor. But Mr. Fenton wasn't leaving anyway. They had been at sea for a long time.

TOM: Gee, Joel, what do they mean by that?

JOEL: Uhm....

"Watching what?" asked the helmsman, looking up from his post.

===

Gadget froze. This was a ticklish bit. She pushed her weight backwards, held her breath, and felt the next catch give. She released her breath in an explosive sigh.

===

"Hey, you're recording this, right?" asked the diving officer. "You are recording this?"

TOM: Don't all subs come equipped with rodent-sized VCRs?

"Sure," agreed Mr. Calvert. "But the tape's logged."

"No problem," said one of the planesmen. "I've got some Bakhshi Mighty Mouse we can tape over to make a dupe."

CROW: Making a dupe over a dope?

"Stop shoving," snapped Mr. Fenton.

CROW: Can you figure out what these rodents are talking about, Tom?

TOM: Nope, not me. You, Joel?

JOEL: Uhm....

===

Gadget strained, exertion clearly visible on her face. A soft trembling overcame her. A sharp click sounded as the last catch was thrown. Gadget froze for a moment, and collapsed, a satisfied smile on her face.

===

Cheers and applause sounded in the bridge of the Albacore. Mr. Calvert turned, infuriated. "Isn't anyone but me at their post?" he yelled. The bridge crew scattered to their positions.

CROW: Well, that was a strange interlude.

TOM: What confuses me is how the crew reacted. Howsabout some mammilian insight there, Joel?

JOEL: Uhm....

CROW: You do have the "uhms" rather bad....

[CROW and TOM start to titter.]

JOEL: You guys....

===

Gadget stood, on wobbly legs. She pushed the cage door open. It had been a little Yale lock, not the usual diary lock; much more difficult to open. She forced herself to think.

JOEL: Not in this universe. It makes it hurt more.

I'm off to a little party, Widget had said. We'll be having a grand old time.

Gadget pulled herself out of the cage, trying to remain focused on her task.

TOM: And Gadget's so good at that.

CROW: Apparently, as she seemed to forget that no guards means some sort of monitoring system instead, just like it was in the brig.

But minutiae kept crowding in.

CROW: What's "minutiae", Joel?

JOEL: A small ground squirrel. Right, Tom?

TOM: From New Jersey, if I'm not mistaken.

CROW: Eww... time for a bath, Gadget.

The immigration center at Trellis Island. Half the animals in America have ancestors who came through here. Over 20 million came through...

CROW: Wait, 20 million little squirrels just walked through?

JOEL: Looks like it.

"The Grand Hall!" she snapped her fingers, and scurried off.

CROW: Guys, I don't believe minutiae are squirrels.

JOEL: Sure they are.

TOM: Uh-huh. Rodentia Crowsadoofus.

CROW: Hey....

[JOEL and TOM titter.]

===

She moved as quietly as a ninja mouse, listening intently for movement -- but she couldn't hear anything through the heavy doors. She opened it the smallest crack she could manage. The setting sun flashed into her eyes.

CROW: Embarrassing her and making her blush in the most endearing way.

And she felt a tripwire give.

Computerlike, her eyes scanned the room.

CROW: In other words, they took 45 seconds to warm up, by which time her comrades were landfill-filler.

Sizzling bacon on hot plate.

JOEL: That bacon really should be burning by now.

TOM: Better flip it over.

JOEL: And maybe some eggs....

Coffee grinder. On/off switch. Bug zapper. Metal plates, probably electrically charged. Pulley. Counterweight system. Mousetrap. Mousetrap set to go off when...

CROW: [GADGET] Oopsie....

Dale was catapulted into the air. Gadget screamed.

TOM: [GADGET] Our shirts! They clash!

And she started running across the floor. Far from cover. Unmindful of every mouse instinct. Break string on coffee grinder switch. Move hot plate. That would save Monty and Dale. Oh, Chip, Zipper, I'm sorry...

CROW: [GADGET] Well, Chip, anyway.

JOEL: But realizing they would be free of the Nowakverse comforted her.

Dale's weight jerked Chip into the air.

CROW: I guess the shelf Chip was on was built beneath the floor to allow that.

And nothing else happened.

TOM: Ever again. The end.

Chip and Dale stared at one another, puzzled. The pulleys above them squeaked, but they both moved up and down, oscillating...

CROW: So 91/2 Chipmunks was right about them?

JOEL: No, he said "oscillating" - wait, you've read 91/2 Chipmunks?

CROW: Well, uh... I've got an automated web search engine to find background data for riff material.

JOEL: Oh. Okay.

"Hey, Chip," Dale finally said. "I don't weigh any more than you do."

"I guess not," Gadget said, helping Monty out of the coffee grinder. "Monty, could you push the hot plate from under Dale?"

"Gladly, luv," Monty smiled.

[TOM makes sizzling noise]

CROW: [MONTY] AAAAGH!

Gadget climbed the wall, holding a knife between her teeth -- and jumped onto Dale's shoulders.

CROW: [GADGET] I never mentioned I'm a carnivorous Grasshopper Mouse (Onychomys leucogaster)... hmm, I'll start with chuck.

"GADGET!" Chip screamed, seeing the plates rush nearer.

Gadget cut the string below her grip, dropping Dale to the floor. "Sorry," she laughed. "Should have warned you." She held on to the string, letting Chip's weight pull her upwards and slowing his descent. She released as she was about to hit the pulley, and heard Chip land with a soft plop.

CROW: Gadget doesn't seem to mind much when her chipmunk friends plummet long distances.

TOM: I'm telling you, Nowak is really Julie Bihn.

But her attention was on freeing Zipper from the bug zapper on the window sill.

CROW: Kind of like pulling a fly off flypaper.

JOEL: Ewww....

The others climbed up to the sill. They came together with wide smiles.

TOM: [Stentorian voice] Ladies and Gentlemen, we have... AFFECTION!

[ALL cheer and throw confetti.]

Chip was the first to talk, hissing through his teeth, trying to conceal his speech from observers. "She's still here."

CROW: [CHIP] So take your hand out of my...

Monterey perked and Gadget slowly nodded. "Yes, I'd do the same. I mean, if I had a psychotic need for retribution, which I don't think I do-"

JOEL: Nowak, she better not. You're warned.

She surveyed the area. "She'd pick somewhere with a good view. Maybe over where I came in --"

"But I really wanted to watch Gadget's reaction, and the best place to do that is back here by the windows."

"Yes, that's right," Dale said thoughtfully. "You'd be back here right behind us--"

TOM: That's it, guys.

CROW: What, an actual cliffhanger?

[6 ... 5 ... 4 ... 3 ... 2 ... 1 ... SoL]

[TOM and JOEL lounge about on the bridge of the SoL while loud sounds of construction come from off camera. JOEL drinks from a mug.]

TOM: So, Joel, what is it about deathtraps?

JOEL: I'm glad you asked me, little buddy. The deathtrap is an artistic device stretching back to the days of pulp fiction -

TOM: I knew that. I was just wondering, well, why do villains use them? I mean -

[Construction sounds stop. CROW rushes in from the left. He holds two big, uninsulated, electrical cables. He wears a tool belt.]

CROW: Joel, could you please hold onto these?

JOEL: Yeah, sure. [He takes the cables from CROW and holds them in one hand.]

CROW: Thanks! [CROW turns to look at the camera, rolls his eyes upwards, and vanishes. Construction sounds resume.]

JOEL: Well, I think that a good deathtrap can be an extension of an evil character's personality. For example, today's fanfic. Widget is obsessed with machinery, and her deathtraps express this.

TOM: Yeah, but -

[CROW appears from the right.]

CROW: Joel, could you hold one cable in each hand so the current will flow right?

JOEL: Sure. [He puts down his mug and holds one cable in each hand.]

[Through TOM's line, JOEL tries to sip from his mug. It's hard.]

TOM: But simplicity and elegance is the hallmark of good engineering. Despite Widget's flaws, she is a good engineer, and should realize that sending the Rangers down a trash disposal is a simple, elegant solution. The KISS principle.

JOEL: Hold that thought. Crow, how long do I have to hold these like this? It's really kind of inconvenient.

[Construction sounds stop. CROW yells from offstage.]

CROW: Not much lonnnnnng - ger.

[Construction sounds resume.]

JOEL: [To TOM] But Widget doesn't really want to hurt the Rangers, she wants to hurt Gadget. So fooling Gadget into -

[Construction sounds stop. CROW yells from offstage.]

CROW: Tom, could you move a bit to the right?

TOM: You mean, right here on the "X"?

CROW: Yeah!

[TOM moves to the right. Construction sounds resume.]

TOM: I think I understand. But more generally, might the convoluted and delicate mechanism of the deathtrap serve as an analogy for the evil machinations of the villain?

JOEL: Very insightful.

[Construction sounds stop. A weight labeled "16 TONS" drops from the ceiling and misses TOM by several feet. JOEL puts both cables in one hand to pick up his coffee. They spark and go POOF, but JOEL does not seem otherwise inconvenienced. Commerical sign flashes.]

JOEL: And of course, the best thing about deathtraps is that since they never work, there's no danger if an impressionable tot tries to do it at home.

TOM: Mmm-hmm!

Chapter Ten : "Aren't You Dead Yet?!"

TOM: Dr. Jack Kevorkian's most used phrase.

He spun to find himself staring down the maw of a .22 Darned Nearly Recoilless Rifle. Widget had been standing on the outside ledge. Jürgen stood next to her, holding a case of .22 rimfire cartridges.

CROW: This week on "Safari, So Good", we join the hunt for the elusive red-nosed chipmunk!

JOEL: I think a grain of happiness is even more elusive here.

TOM: Elusive? Try extinct.

"Would you believe me if I told you this thing will stop a cat?" Widget asked mildly.

CROW: [MAXWELL SMART] Would you believe....a dead cat?

"Oh, I don't doubt that for an instant," Dale assured her, creeping

JOEL: Out everyone as his head did a complete 360 around his body.

backwards.

"It might even penetrate your skull.

TOM: Fat chance.

Everyone back off."

"We're wasting time, Widget," Gadget snapped, walking forward sternly.

CROW: The mall closes at five.

"You want me. You've got me."

TOM: I have to wonder how many fanboys have dreamed of Gadget telling them that very quote.

"That's ridiculous," Monty snorted. "Gadget's not to blame because she was a cuter baby than you were.

[Everyone winces.]

JOEL: Boy, Monty's just a natural diplomat when the situation is tense, isn't he?

I'm the one who dropped you. I owe you.

TOM: [MONTY] Let's see... you grew up under an abusive, exploitative guardian who treated you horridly and forever scarred you mentally. So, say five bucks should cover it?

She doesn't."

With two of his friends making themselves targets for the rodent equivalent of a 150mm cannon shell, Chip had to do something.

CROW: [CHIP] Who gets your stuff, Monty? Gadget, you do have a will, don't you?

"Wait!" Chip screamed, probably to his friends.

TOM: Maybe to his family. Maybe to that cute girl he met last week. Who knows?

"Widget, you know we'll be atop of you before you can reload!"

CROW: Must be chipmunk mating season.

"I know," Widget smiled, pink eyes glittering.

CROW: Ah, so this is how Widget gets all her boyfriends!

TOM: Yep. Nothing turns on a male chipmunk more than seeing his teammate and close friend blown away in front of him.

Chip felt his heart drop.

JOEL: Dale, however, was euphoric that he wasn't the one in danger anymore.

"Hey, Widget," Gadget suddenly asked. "How do you

JOEL: [GADGET] Get through the metal detectors at the airport?

damp the recoil of that thing?"

"Oh. Action/Reaction. The casing goes out the back."

TOM: [WIDGET] While the bullet goes out the front. Are you really that stupid or just a good actor?

Gadget hesitated, and pretended to make her First Big Mistake of the day.

CROW: [GADGET] I think I'll eat at Jack In The Box today.

"Golly! How well does it work?"

"Watch carefully," Widget hissed. "I'll show you."

Gadget dropped an instant before the perfectly timed dramatic moment.

TOM: If she dropped before the moment happened, how can it be "perfectly" timed?

The explosion was incredibly loud, at least for mouse ears. Gadget heard a sharp crack as the bullet whipped past her head. The shockwave of its passage actually pushed her down. She had no idea how long it would take to reload, so she turned the dive into a tackle, catching Widget on the midriff, just before the recoil flipped them both out the window.

JOEL: Uhm. The recoil was delayed long enough for Gadget to dive into Widget? Wouldn't have the instantaneous reaction flipped Widget over before Gadget could reach her?

TOM: How many times to I have to remind you of the Nowak Principle?

Gadget felt a sharp shock in her ankles, and a hiss of pain behind her.

CROW: Followed by a stream of blood, as a the bullet that was intended for her took out Monty.

The Recoilless corkscrewed away.

CROW: Up. Down. Sideways. Somewhere.

TOM: Hey, Widget's "disarmed" now! Hah!

Widget slipped through her grasp: Gadget grabbed frantically, gripped her wrists. The two sisters stared at one another, Gadget head down; Widget face up.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Well. This certainly isn't how my master plan was supposed to end up.

Gadget couldn't see the courtyard past Widget; the sun was low, and it was hidden in shadow, but she knew it was Too Far down.

TOM: Hmm... if the grand hall was on the ground floor, and the window ledge was around the usual height from the ground, we can safely assume that Too Far down is equal to four feet.

JOEL: Roughly.

"Monterey!" Jürgen's voice. "Don't move!" A threat?

CROW: Or an invitation?

"Zipper!"

ALL: Who?

Chip's voice. "String! Paper clip! Go!"

Gadget turned her head to see what was going on.

TOM: Chip's making a list for the office supply store, silly.

Jürgen had her by the ankles. The weight of Gadget and Widget had pulled him halfway off the ledge.

CROW: Jettison the arm! That'll bring the weight to a manageable level!

Monty was laying across him, his weight holding the smaller mouse secure and keeping him from slipping further.

TOM: Yes, Monterey is really that fat.

Gadget felt herself smile.

JOEL: It was a strange and terrifying experience, so she immediately went back to a pensive frown.

CROW: Maybe this fanfic needs a smile transplant from Altered Destiny.

TOM: They'd be rejected.

It wasn't a threat.

A terrified Dale was leaning out the window, too far to be safe; his arms were too short to reach her.

CROW: [DALE] Hey Widget, can I borrow your extra arm?

Chip appeared, forcing a look of good cheer.

JOEL: [CHIP] Before we haul you up, Gadget, let's talk about your apparent indifference to my affections, shall we?

"I find that most problems can be solved with string and paper clips," he winked.

CROW: [CHIP] And if that doesn't do the job, a really strong mix of orange juice and arsenic.

"Jürgen," Widget panted. She caught her breath. "Let go of us!"

Gadget turned back, horrified, to see her sister's hate filled face.

TOM: What was she expecting? Unbridled ecstasy?

Jürgen gritted his teeth. "Widget! Find a toehold. Please."

CROW: [JÜRGEN] If you die, who'll sign my paycheck?

Widget's left arm bent at the elbow, and her foot found a bit of crumbling concrete. A lock of her sister's golden hair fell into her face.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Hey, that smells nice. You use Pert?

Widget drew closer. Gadget could feel her breath on her nose.

CROW: This is starting to turn into my kind of fanfic....

"Jürgen," Widget gasped. "Please drop us."

Jürgen's voice from behind Gadget. "Widget, I can't."

TOM: [JÜRGEN] You know how hard it is to get hired after it gets out that you killed your last employer?

Widget's eyes focused on her sister's. "I ..."

CROW: [WIDGET] Think you could benefit from a breath mint.

Widget started. "I don't want anything from you!"

JOEL: [WIDGET] Take your precious housewarming present and go!

Widget bit Gadget on the wrist.

CROW: [makes cat fight noises]

Gadget yelped and her hands flew open.

Widget let go. She fell backwards and flipped once on the way down, vanishing into shadow. Gadget and Jürgen screamed.

TOM: [GADGET] My wrist!

CROW: [JÜRGEN] My salary!

===

CROW: Ah, that must be what Widget looked like after hitting the courtyard.

Jürgen held Gadget tightly while Chip came down on Zipper's string and grabbed her, shifting their weight to the line secured by a paper clip bent into a hook.

JOEL: [GADGET] Gee, guys, awfully nice of you to wait until Widget killed herself before coming down to help.

Dale, Monterey and Jürgen quickly hoisted them to safety. Chip was still holding on to her

TOM: Copping a feel.

when Jürgen took Gadget by the hand, and started tying up her wrist with a handkerchief.

"Gadget," he gasped. "It wasn't your fault. Just remember that. She could have lived, even up till the last second, but..."

CROW: Who wants to live in this unfeeling world?

"Why didn't you drop me after she fell?" Gadget asked. The others looked at Jürgen a little more warily, as though suddenly remembering he had just sunk a cruise ship.

TOM: Nonononono! It was the iceberg! The iceberg! Sheesh, you think they'd at least have figured it out from the ice cubes in the water....

Jürgen shrugged. "Her father loved you," he said. He pulled the knot on the improvised bandage tight.

JOEL: Just enough to completely cut off all blood flow to her hand.

Then he started to cry.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] I just remembered -- I forget to tape "Jerry Springer" today!

Monterey shook his head sadly. "Aw, mate..."

TOM: [MONTY] Quit bein' such a whiney-baby.

He sat down, and Gadget found herself moving to touch him.

JOEL: Her fist connected solidly with his jaw.

People aren't simple," he said. "You didn't see her cutting dolphins out of tuna nets, talking whales out of beaching themselves."

TOM: Probably because she didn't do those things.

"Yeah, Chip snapped. "We just saw the side that hungered for Gadget's death."

CROW: You only get one chance to make a first impression, after all.

"Someone's death, anyway," Monty said softly.

TOM: Probably Nowak's.

JOEL: Well... he is the one at fault, really, for putting her through that.

"This isn't over yet," hissed a voice from out the window.

CROW: A sequel's in the works???

ALL: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!

They turned as one, with expressions running the gamut between joy,

TOM: A really twisted version of that.

astonishment, and absolute disbelief. Widget had inflated her wetsuit into a round ball, probably using a helium tank concealed under her cape.

CROW: Oh, you mean the one that was always blowing in the wind? Kinda screws up the concealment deal.

She was held in a spread eagle position by the swollen wetsuit, her wrists and ankles barely protruding from the surface of the ball.

TOM: Far be it for me to be technical here, but that should be "wrist". Mechanical limbs are a separate category.

"My sister," she cried, slowly gaining altitude,

JOEL: But not coherence.

"will die before these eyes and she'll know - SHE'LL KNOW - that it is I, Widget Hackwrench, who encompasses her doom!"

JOEL: Wasn't that from Dune?

TOM: Great. First Toto shows up and now this.

CROW: If Sting appears, I'm leaving.

TOM: Hope he's in the oiled loincloth.

[Moment of silence. JOEL and CROW edge away from TOM.]

"Auf Wiedersehen," Jürgen said, politely

JOEL: Shoving the gaping Rangers off the edge.

shaking Monty's hand before launching himself into the air to grab Widget by her tail.

TOM: Completely canceling out the helium, and sending both him and Widget plummeting to their deaths.

CROW: Oh yeah, down the incredible four feet from the window ledge.

They drifted out towards the sea, while Widget laughed maniacally.

JOEL: [WIDGET] I'm not only evil, I'm funny! My jokes are hilarious!

There was a moment of silence.

"Monty," Dale asked, "what exactly does it mean to 'encompass Gadget's doom?'"

TOM: [MONTY] Read Final Curtain sometime.

===

TOM: "That all men are created equal, except for the ones I own -"

JOEL: Tom....

They were about one hundred fifty feet over the water. Widget let a small amount of helium out of her balloon suit through a rubber valve,

JOEL: How?! Her arms and legs are spread eagle, remember? What, she has prehensile nose hairs?

TOM: That might explain how she controls her left arm.

to reduce their rate of climb. It made a noticeable sound.

TOM: [makes an elephant call]

She heard laughter, quickly suppressed, from below her.

CROW: [WIDGET] Are you looking up my suit?

"Jürgen," she snapped. "It's not funny. I'm just releasing some gas-"

Jürgen's choked guffaw was louder this time.

TOM: Yes, nothing cracks up a hardened wartime captain more than fart jokes.

"Helium gas!" she snapped.

"I'm sorry," he wheezed.

"It's not funny," she muttered.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] It's hysterical! Hardy har har!!!

"No, ma'am. Albacore

ALL: Baltimore!

JOEL: This has been the one bright spot in this fanfic for me.

is beneath us. I believe Mr. Fenton is flying up with a line."

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Hopefully, it'll be better than the lines we've had so far.

"It's a perfectly normal sound."

"Yes, ma'am."

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Whatever you say, psycho-boss. No argument here. Nope.

Jürgen gripped the line, which was attached to a winch on the Albacore. It was short work to reel them in. Four burly stokers held Widget down as she opened the valve, releasing the pressurized helium in one long, shattering blast that ripped through the twilight.

TOM: [JÜRGEN] Anymouse got a match? Hahaha!

She looked suspiciously from one crewman to the other. They all stood with studied and serious expressions.

JOEL: Too dumb to understand the reference to flatulence.

TOM: Or too smart.

She couldn't stand it anymore. She fell over backwards, howling with laughter.

JOEL: So if they got nightmares from her smile alone, that laugh should drive them into the bowels of horrific slumber.

Chapter Eleven : As The Table Turns

TOM: What do Lazy Susans have to do with anything?

"'Rescued Rangers'," Chip grumbled, reading a headline in the morning paper. "'Crew of fishing boat repaid a favor to the Rescue Rangers yesterday -'"

CROW: By beating the stuffing out of them for rescuing all the fish from their nets last week.

The picture showed the five of them standing knee deep in sardines,

TOM: Considering the size comparison, they were standing in a whopping three fish.

JOEL: Fish were really biting that day, eh?

CROW: Something bites here, at least.

Dale, Monty and Zipper grinning at the camera, Gadget staring off into the distance, and Chip looking thoroughly, thoroughly annoyed.

CROW: [CHIP] Isn't this fanfic over yet?

Dale dropped his fork and put on a face of mock horror. "I didn't see you volunteering to swim back from Trellis Island," Dale grumbled.

"Dale, don't you feel even slightly embarrassed?"

"No, Chip. I feel dry. I feel those fishermen were proud to do us a good turn." Zipper buzzed agreement.

TOM: Who said that? Dale or Zipper?

JOEL: Maybe Casper is on shore leave....

"Did any of ya see Gadget this mornin'?" Monterey asked, bringing another plate of fried cheese to the table.

BOTS: [CHIP 'N' DALE] Did we ever!

Chip and Dale looked at one another and blinked. Apparently, they hadn't.

"Morning, guys," Gadget said, entering the room sleepily. She was in her usual lavender overalls.

CROW: Rather than her Day-glo Orange overalls. Those were reserved for "special" occasions.

"You look tired, luv," Monty said slowly. "Been workin' on somethin'?"

JOEL: [MONTY] Or were ya just frettin' over how life sucks again?

"Hit a little snag. Give me a hand, Monty?"

JOEL: [applauding]

TOM: [MONTY] There. Don't say I never gave you nothin'.

"Have some coffee first, luv."

"Now, Monty." She smiled. "Please?"

Monty looked uncomfortably at the chipmunks and the fly,

CROW: [singing] It's chipmunks and the fly, chipmunks and the fly, chipmunks and the fly, fly, fly, fly....

who were trying not to look worried.

JOEL: Guys... you don't think... Gadget and Monty?

TOM: C'mon, Joel, he's way too old for her. Even Nowak wouldn't do that.

Gadget started climbing the domino stairs to the hangar.

TOM: The hanger is actually easier accessible through the kitchen, but why let that little piece of logic interfere with the reader's suspension of happiness?

Monty looked at the door to her workshop. Not in your workshop? he wondered.

CROW: Can you see the door to the workshop from the front door?

TOM: No. Why?

CROW: Doesn't it seem odd that Nowak knows all about mechanics on a rodent scale, but doesn't even know what the general layout of the Ranger HQ is?

TOM: No. Why?

"What can I help ya with, luv?" Monty asked. "Not a technical problem, surely."

TOM: Technicalities? Here? Perish the thought!

She hadn't said one word about her sister last night.

JOEL: He was sure that the steady stream of profanities was caused by something else.

He expected she wanted to have it out with him. He was dreading that.

CROW: He hated beating up women. Well, sometimes.

The light in the hangar was dim,

JOEL: It's dim no matter where you are in the Nowakverse.

but Monty could easily see the latest addition.

TOM: [MONTY] A slot machine? Your mother really did go back to Vegas, didn't she?

It was longer than he was tall. A folded 12-inch parachute. Ducted propeller with vertical and horizontal vanes, connected somehow to two compasses. Tucked into it was something streamlined, glittering with brass, so big he didn't recognize it at first.

JOEL: [MONTY] Uhm, nice door handle, luv.

"Gadget," he said quietly. "That's a .50 caliber machine gun round."

CROW: Excuse me? When did the Ranger HQ get an ammo closet?

"14.5 mm Soviet, actually," she corrected. "It's almost twice the muzzle energy-"

TOM: [GADGET] Of a slingshot.

"And the rest, let me guess. It's a magnetic homing torpedo, isn't it?"

JOEL: [GADGET] No, silly, it's our new cappuccino maker!

"Air dropped," Gadget chuckled. "Guided in two axes, stabilized in roll. I need advice on how to use it."

TOM: Uh... you just said how to. You drop it from the air, into the water.

CROW: It hits something. Something goes boom.

Monty shook his head slowly. "Gadget, don't."

"You've done it before." Her voice was hard.

JOEL: Her conscience was dead.

"Leave Widget to drown?" he asked sarcastically.

TOM: And you did a rather poor job of it, now didn't you?

"Sunk submarines."

TOM: When?? Oh, during his time in the war? If he was in World War II, he'd be at least 60 by now, and he's not that old!

JOEL: Uh, Tom? Buddy? Ease up a little... it's okay....

TOM: [grumbling]

Monty was feeling faint.

CROW: [MONTY] Forgot... to take my medication... this mornin'....

He put his hand out to steady himself - almost on the torpedo. He jerked his hand away.

JOEL: And fell flat on his face.

"Gadget, luv, you let your left brain take over. I can't believe you've thought this through. You can't -murder - your own sister."

TOM: [MONTY] That's my job!

"It doesn't matter who she is, Monty," her voice came softly.

CROW: [GADGET] I just have to kill somebody!

He turned and saw her, lit from behind.

JOEL: Oh, in the "dim" hangar?

"She's threatening my friends. My ... family.

JOEL: What family?

CROW: Maybe she means the one from Sisters.

TOM: In that case, Widget would be doing Gadget a favor.

I lost my family before.

CROW: [GADGET] I never should have left them in that DeCon testing lab.

I'm not going to lose it again."

JOEL: Not to worry, then, seeing as how you already lost it.

She shook her head. "Not even if I have to kill her. Will you help me?"

JOEL: You know, guys, I don't think Gadget has smiled at all in this fanfic....

TOM: Wait. She did after the deathtrap idea fell apart.

CROW: Oh, big whoop. One smile after over ten chapters.

TOM: Well... they're short chapters.

JOEL: Yeah. Packed full of heart-stopping turmoil and angst. Yippee-skip.

"I promised your father I'd take care of her." His voice was determined.

TOM: Monterey Jack. Hitmouse for the Mob.

"Well, Monty, help me take care of her." Her voice was mocking.

JOEL: Gadget Hackwrench. Spokesmouse for A.A. -- Angst Anonymous.

"Gadget..."

CROW: [MONTY] When I told you to "get a life", this isn't what I had in mind!

"Please."

TOM: [GADGET] I always envied Lady MacBeth's spotted hands.

"Gadget," he snapped. "You sound just like her."

Gadget was breathing fast and hard. "I. Do. Not."

JOEL: [CHIP] Hey! Why do we hear Widget in the workshop?!

"Gadget," he hesitated. "This is Uncle Monty talkin'. I love you like a

CROW: [MONTY] Future candidate to nurse me in my old age.

daughter. But there's this dark side to you, luv. Deathtraps for salesmen, remember? You hardly ever let it out. Maybe Widget has a compassionate side. That she hardly ever lets out."

JOEL: Oh, you're deep, Monty.

CROW: Well, he's full of it, at least.

"So?"

"So Geegaw Hackwrench's daughter is standin' in front o' me, askin' me t' help kill Geegaw Hackwrench's other daughter. I won't 'ave a part in this, young lady. You're tired, you're overworked, you're stressed. An' maybe the technical challenge of buildin' - that - has bloinded you.

TOM: Blinded you, even.

Otherwise you'd never even consider this."

JOEL: Unless you were in....

TOM: [drumroll]

ALL: The Nowakverse!

CROW: In which case it'd be top priority!

The only sound Monty heard for a while was Gadget's hissing breath. Like a cat. Then, to his immense relief, she said, "Maybe you're right, Monty. I'll go to bed, and think it all over."

TOM: [MONTY] Duh, sure, duh. Like, duh, you'd never consider faking this, duh, to get me to turn my back at a later time, duh, so you can go kill Widget. Duh.

An explosion of chipmunk chatter came from downstairs. Monty and Gadget glanced at one another dubiously.

JOEL: [GADGET] Five bucks says Dale wins this one.

CROW: [MONTY] Yer on!

"That don't sound like an argument," Monty observed.

"I think you're right, Monty."

JOEL: [GADGET] Why don't you go investigate, while I stay here and, uh, make sure that the torpedo doesn't go anywhere? Go on, go. Go.

Monty and Gadget jumped into the slide that took them down quickly to the main level. The chipmunks were staring at the second page of the paper, talking simultaneously and so quickly either would have been incomprehensible.

CROW: So in other words, their normal manner of speech.

Ignoring them, Gadget slipped between them and looked at the paper. Soon she was speaking so quickly she was incomprehensible.

CROW: In other words, her normal manner of speech.

By now deeply disturbed, Monty turned the paper

JOEL: Actually, I think Monty was deeply disturbed long before now.

around so he could read it.

TOM: [MONTY] "Mets retire from baseball. Open up new bowling alley."

"'Submersible Research Vessel Albacore

TOM: Research vessel?!

JOEL: Hmm. It's painted black, it's got periscopes, at least four torpedo tubes. Must be a research vessel.

... docks in City?'" he read with astonishment. "'Commander and owner to offer testimony in sinking of the Minuscule?!'"

CROW: [MONTY] "Widget to replace Pierce Brosnan as 007"?!

"It says they were in the bay when the Minuscule hit an iceberg and sank," Chip went on. "They took the pictures in the paper."

TOM: [GADGET] Golly, they look more like ice cubes to me.

"But they sank the Minuscule!" Monty yelled.

"We can't prove that!" Chip yelled back. "We can't even testify to it! Did any of them admit to it?"

It hit Monty like a blow. "Well, no."

JOEL: [MONTY] They showed us that home movie of it, but they never actually said anything. Blast those subtitles!

"So we just assumed they sank the ship. All they did was try to kill us."

JOEL: Isn't that still a capital offense?

TOM: Nowak principle, remember?

JOEL: Sorry.

"Oh, well," Monty shrugged sarcastically.

"The local courts don't like to get involved in family disputes," Dale said thoughtfully.

CROW: Oh, Mr. Diapers-Make-Me-Invisible is being smart again?

As Monty stared at the paper, it suddenly tilted towards him. He jumped back as it came crashing over.

CROW: [MONTY] I'm being attacked by newsprint! Argh!

Monty flashed an angry gaze at them. "Who flipped the table?" he asked.

Chip and Dale looked at one another suspiciously. "Sorry," Gadget apologized. "Reflex."

TOM: Gadget always flips tables when reading the paper?

JOEL: No wonder the other Rangers don't like doing the crossword with her.

"If we sank th' Albacore in dock," Monty observed slowly, "there's not much chance of anyone gettin' hurt."

CROW: [MONTY] We can't have that, now, can we!

"I was just thinking that," Gadget said, disappointed.

"Too risky," Chip said, missing the point entirely. "Besides, we need proof they sunk Minuscule."

JOEL: Just get Bernie and Gidget. They bi-located to the sub's bridge right before the ram, remember?

"If I know sailors," Monty stated,

CROW: [MONTY] Which I don't.

"they'll be lookin' for a place to blow off steam..."

TOM: The Laundromat?

"And only too willing," Chip agreed with a wicked grin, "to tell all to a pretty face..."

Gadget and Dale glanced sideways at one another.

Chapter Twelve : The Spying Game

JOEL: I spy with my little eye, something that starts with... God, this is depressing.

BOTS: [depressed] Under the Bridge.

The two guards at Fat Cat's Casino had pretty much seen and done it all,

CROW: With the exception of the cribbage tournament last week.

but nothing had prepared them for this vision of loveliness. She moved with a delicate step, and as she flowed past them she favored them with a smile which held the promise of pleasures unnamed.

TOM: Free bumper stickers.

Mesmerized, Herbie the

JOEL: Love Bug.

rat and Prickles the porcupine held the doors open for her and were rewarded with a wink that made them blush scarlet.

CROW: Really tough guards, all right.

"Dale got in," Gadget said briefly, staring through a night vision scope concealed in a remote headquarters cleverly disguised as a garbage can.

JOEL: Yeah, right. They only used that so Zipper would shut up.

BOTS: Who?

She turned on the tape recorder attached to Dale's concealed microphone.

"Good," Chip said abstractly. "In case he screws up, let's prepare a hot extraction."

CROW: [CHIP] In other words, let's get ready for the inevitable.

"Roger," said Monterey gleefully, patting the outside of a small vehicle. "The Exterminator is go."

TOM: Needing extra "muscle", the Rangers call up Arnold Schwarzenegger!

===

The Casino was busier than usual.

JOEL: The bingo tables were packed.

About nine from Albacore

ALL: Singapore!

JOEL: Just thought we'd improvise a bit....

were there, mostly enlisted men with a few officers. A boisterous ragtime tune was playing on the piano. Widget was at a corner table, staring at the wall and looking bored.

TOM: [WIDGET] I think the guys in engineering were playing a gag on me. Watching paint dry really isn't that exciting....

Jürgen put down two mugs of frosty dark root beer.

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] You're no real drinks! Back in my country, the root beers there would wipe the floor with you!

Widget looked up, distracted, and smiled.

CROW: [WIDGET] I like employees that suck-up.

"Thanks," she said. She smiled slightly, and casually reached out with her left hand.

JOEL: Tearing his arm off with an evil titter.

She had been practicing with cups of coffee on Albacore, but the root beer mug was not only bigger, it was filled to overflowing and the head was sliding down the side. Jürgen watched, fascinated, as she lifted the root beer and, holding it steady, sipped at the edge.

TOM: [JÜRGEN] I wonder if she thought about working at carnivals doing this. People would pay big money to see this.

Jürgen had never noticed before how complex a simple action like that was, how the shoulder and elbow moved together, how the wrist rotated fractionally to keep the payload steady while her elbow moved it to her lips. When she returned the root beer to the table, touching the original ring it had made, Jürgen noticed something slightly unnatural in the action - perhaps the mug wasn't quite even with her lips, and her arm replayed the original motion in perfect reverse.

CROW: Or maybe it was that the tabletop had spontaneously burst into flames.

Still, they smiled;

JOEL: Must be the latest drinking game; first person to stop smiling pays for the tab.

it was a remarkable show of proficiency and a stunning victory against the forces of bad luck which made the fight necessary in the first place.

[Pause]

TOM: Was that supposed to be a glimmer of hope?

JOEL: I don't know. It's been so long since we've seen one, I don't think I can recognize them anymore.

"Bitte,"

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Bite me.

Jürgen replied. "You seem preoccupied."

TOM: Her master plan to break her sister's spirit failed and you think she's preoccupied?

Widget shrugged. "I don't know. I think coming here was a mistake for me. I've never really been into this sort of thing," she said, looking around.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Public floggings are so much more entertaining.

"Gambling?" Jürgen asked. He tasted the root beer. Not a patch on the stuff at home of course, but pretty good.

TOM: Well, considering the stuff in Germany is actual beer, that was an exceedingly stupid observation.

"Well, that's part of it," Widget agreed, trying to sort it out in her mind. "Pleasure, I guess. It's not something I've ever liked much."

CROW: Now that was big surprise, oh yeah.

"Surely that's a contradiction," Jürgen pointed out. "What you really mean is that you don't like the things people expect you to like.

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Palm Pilots. "Seinfeld". BMWs. You're more into inflicting pain.

Do you find this place disappointing?"

CROW: Well, we find this fanfic depressing.

Widget looked over. "Yes, that's the word. How did you know?"

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] I always have a pocket thesaurus handy.

Jürgen chuckled. "There's this place in Hamburg, 'Grosse Katze.' When I was a little boy outside and looking at the closed doors, it always seemed to me to be a place of wonders. When I was old enough I put on my cadet's uniform, slicked back my fur, and entered the Magical Palace of Solomon." He smiled. "Loud noise, cigarette smoke, drunks, and too much lipstick. I should have gone hiking."

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] But then I wouldn't have been cool, so I got trashed.

TOM: No, Joel, I think Nowak's trying to establish Jürgen was part of the "Wandervogel" youth movement which opted out of the political process leaving the field clear for extremists. In other words, he's not a Nazi.

JOEL: Mice of the Weimar Republic. I hate this fanfic.

Widget was looking at him, head resting at an angle on the arm she had built,

CROW: The "Grand ol' arm that Widget built"?

a smile on her face. "Very perceptive."

CROW: Is it just me, or does Nowak seem to be making Widget happier than he makes Gadget?

"One thing you learn when you get my age. You tend to over-value simple goals. If I just get the Ritterkreutz or this job or lose some weight -" Widget laughed "-then everything will be fine and I'll be happy forever. But it doesn't work that way. You can't plan your own salvation."

TOM: [JÜRGEN] So just kill yourself now and get it over with. Here, I'll even help you.

"You didn't come over here to cheer me up."

JOEL: [WIDGET] Well, forget it -- I don't date my employees, cabin boy.

Jürgen smiled. "Why not? Isn't that worth walking across a room for?"

TOM: It always is for a brown-noser.

Widget smiled back at him. "It is to me. Thanks for the root beer."

CROW: You know guys, I bet he drugged her root beer with some kind of aphrodisiac.

TOM: Hey, he is a sailor.

"You're from around here, aren't you?"

JOEL: Jürgen makes his move.

"Yes," she said, her voice guarded.

"Could I impose on you to be a native guide?"

TOM: [JÜRGEN] Better yet, just naive enough to fall for me?

CROW: Now I know he slipped her some Spanish Fly!

JOEL: El Zippo?

BOTS: Who??

For a moment, Widget was distracted by Mr. Calvert, or more properly, Mr. Calvert's dancing partner, a chipmunk with long red hair who was poured into a matching dress.

TOM: That chunky, huh?

There seemed to be a dispute as to who was leading, with the smashing female chipmunk preferring to stay close to Widget and Jürgen's table,

CROW: Begging for table scraps.

while Mr. Calvert was trying to steer them back toward the dancing floor.

"C'mon, Dale," Chip muttered, drumming his fingers. "get him bragging about sinking ships..."

"Submarine?" Dale asked brightly. "Didja ever sink any ships?"

JOEL: If Dale is always this hopeless, why does he always wind up in these jobs?

CROW: Maybe the other Rangers aren't as smart as we thought they were.

Chip slapped his hand over his eyes. Gadget flinched, and Monty shook his head sadly.

Tramp, Widget thought, annoyed. But the hussy did remind her...

TOM: [WIDGET] I think we should ban aphrodisiac supplies for all sailors on leave.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] What?! I think not!

"I don't think we should stay in town very long. We only came here to sell those pictures of Minuscule sinking to a newspaper. "

"And to supply," Jürgen pointed out. "Where else can you get bagels and cheesecake this good?

CROW: Fat Cat's casino sells cheesecake and bagels?

JOEL: Gee, and I thought they made all their revenue from gambling and criminal rackets.

Besides, how can you dock in a town like this and not give the crew leave?"

TOM: [WIDGET] Kill them.

"There's that," Widget agreed.

"Hey," Gadget said, alarmed. "That's Widget's voice."

CROW: [GADGET] Where'd her body go?

"He's using the directional mike," Chip guessed.

"Well, we're a research vessel,"

CROW: All those torpedo tubes are for peaceful use only.

Mr. Calvert said uncertainly. "But we're armed against pirates, and we did sink a few down in the Caribbean." (see Widget Hackwrench Sinks Some Pirates in the Caribbean)

JOEL: She was sinking tourists at Disneyland?

He was wondering why his beautiful chipmunk lass was now dancing back and forth in a straight line, hopping on one foot, the other held stiffly out parallel with the floor.

CROW: So much so that he forgot all about why the "lady" had hair on the back of her knuckles, had her fingernails cut short, and why she had five-o'clock shadow.

TOM: Does that work for chipmunks?

Perhaps she was loopy, which might or might not be good news for his leave.

JOEL: That's it. I'm reaching my personal limit.

CROW: Cutting a little close to home, there?

JOEL: Watch it.

Actually, since Dale had insisted on a sleeveless dress, his directional mike was strapped to his lower leg, the top at his ankle, pointed at Gadget's sister.

"I'm afraid someone might realize that cut in the bottom of Minuscule was made by us," Jürgen said in a low voice.

TOM: Then why was he just supporting the idea of them hanging around for a while?

There was cheering in the garbage can.

JOEL: [CHIP] This fruit is only half covered in mold! Whoo-hoo!

"They'll realize it anyway when they salvage the vessel," Widget agreed. "They'll know pretty soon it was a metal saw blade and not an iceberg."

JOEL: [BADGER] Oh no you don't -- you're not bringing us back into this! It was ice cubes! Ice cubes, I say!

"Still, it will be a few days before they realize that, and if we leave before tomorrow evening, it'll look suspicious," Jürgen pointed out.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] So let's just hang around until we're caught.

"Don't you have any good memories of this city?" he asked her with a smile.

Widget looked off into the distance. "Well, there's

TOM: [WIDGET] The annual One-Armed Byronic Female Mice convention. That's fun.

an aircraft carrier docked on the west side. When I was young, I found a way into the engine room -"

CROW: [WIDGET] Maybe I should have waited until it was off. I probably would still have my real legs today.

Gadget hissed. "She used my secret entrance into my engine room?" her palms were on the control panel in front of her, and she was pushing herself into a sitting position.

CROW: Huh? When did Gadget hang out in an aircraft carrier?

JOEL: Probably the same time Dale was studying to be a psychologist.

TOM: And Monterey was serving in the Navy.

[GYPSY Pops in.]

GYPSY: http://r-style.sci-nnov.ru/~shredder/.

[GYPSY leaves.]

TOM: [dubiously] Uh-huh. Thanks, Gypsy.

"Blimey," Monty muttered, straining to hear.

" - And I was so in awe of it all, this gigantic steel cathedral," Widget went on in hushed tones, "all these parts, everything fitting together. I knew I had to keep coming back, to understand it all. It's pretty silly, really," she chuckled.

TOM: [WIDGET] But if you laugh I'll tear your throat out with my teeth.

"No," Jürgen shook his head. "I think we all have our private temples."

CROW: [JÜRGEN] I have one to the Devil. Would you like to see it?

"I'd like to show it to you," Widget said softly. She put her hand on the table, and accidentally covered his hand with hers.

TOM: So tell me, Joel, as a representative of mammals, would you want to resist the advances of your highly psychopathic and mentally unstable boss?

JOEL: Offhand, I'd have to say no.

"Aw, c'mon, ya big lug," Monty said out loud. "Tell 'er ya love 'er."

Chip turned from looking at Gadget and started at Monty in horror. "I meant 'im," Monty explained quickly. "I, uh, mean-"

Gadget was oblivious.

JOEL: In short, her normal state of being.

Dale thought it best to leave. Jürgen's taped confession was what he was after and he had to sneak away before something happened.

CROW: Like that awkward instance with Gadget's clothes.

But he wanted to leave his dancing partner something to remember him by, so when Mr. Calvert dipped him, he closed his eyes and puckered up.

JOEL: The scary part is that Nowak seems to think Dale enjoys this....

CROW: Hmm. I wonder if he read 91/2 Chipmunks, too....

Dale's wig dropped softly to the floor. Dale waited for the kiss that didn't come.

TOM: But boy, did the fists rain in.

Conversation and noise slowly died. Then he noticed his head felt colder. He opened his eyes. He didn't want to, but he opened his eyes.

JOEL: His little fantasy world crashing down around him.

"Aw, man, again?" asked a bouncer rat.

CROW: Oh, you mean Herbie?

JOEL: With the way Nowak dismissed him so soon after naming him, Herbie must be related to Zipper.

TOM: Who's -- oh nevermind.

"Look, buddy, the place you want is down the street-"

"A spy!" Mr. Calvert cried out, and dropped Dale.

CROW: I spy something with my little eye, that starts with "transvestite".

"It's a Rescue Ranger! Call the boss!" cried a waitress.

"I'm not a spy," Dale tried to explain. "Dressing like this, uh, makes me feel comfortable."

JOEL: Hey, it worked with J. Edgar Hoover.

CROW: And Ed Wood.

Widget snatched her hand away and stood, leaning on the table. Her root beer crashed to the floor.

TOM: Why? Because it could!

"GET HIM!"

Dale was promptly rendered immobile under a pile of submariners, and tied with ripped tablecloth. Efficiently, he was tossed onto shoulders and rushed towards the door. Until Prickles stepped in, barring the way.

CROW: [PRICKLES] Don't forget to fill out your comment cards, please.

"Durch die Fenster! Mach schnell!" Jürgen yelled before he thought it through.

JOEL: Which is okay, seeing as how nobody ever listened to him.

"What he say?"

JOEL: See?

"Don't you speak German?"

"Out the window! Hurry!" Widget translated.

TOM: So if the crew doesn't speak German, doesn't that create problems when Jürgen gets excited?

CROW: Nah, they just mutiny at that point.

Unfortunately, there were no windows.

JOEL: Aside from the dozens that lined the walls near the ceiling.

Fat Cat's elevator opened, and the corpulent feline slid gracefully into the casino. "What's this about wanting to leave?" he purred.

TOM: [FAT CAT] You haven't tried our buffet yet!

Widget stepped around the table, and stared up into the cat's face. "We're taking him as a hostage."

CROW: Seeing as how Dale's tied up and trussed like a pig, let's hope it's not how you take home friends.

"I think not. The Rescue Rodents and I have much ... hisssstory between

JOEL: Fat Cat? Sounds more like Kaa.

us. This isn't your casino."

"We caught him," she said stubbornly.

TOM: [WIDGET] Finders keepers, losers weepers! Nyah nyah nyah!

"You're lucky you're a customer, mouse," said Fat Cat. He delicately lifted Dale from off the shoulders of the Albacore crewmen, and placed him on his feet in front of Prickles. Dale hopped quickly into the

CROW: First place at the hopscotch competition.

elevator, goaded by occasional encouragement from Prickles. Dale's yelps were cut off by the closing elevator door.

With one leap, Widget was clutching the ends of Fat Cat's mustache. With her boots on his collar bone, she scowled at the much larger animal.

JOEL: You know, this is pretty stupid, even for Miss Hate here.

"Listen kibble-breath," she snarled, "it wouldn't be the first time I've seen the inside of a cat. I kinda get...stuck in the throat."

CROW: Gee, I wonder if Widget has met Ivana yet?

JOEL: Hey, Widget could be Ivana for all we know....

"My apologies for playing the race card," Fat Cat said immediately. He leaned to whisper at a henchman. "Do mice get rabies?" he asked.

JOEL: Saying this with Widget still on his collarbone probably wasn't the best way to ease tensions.

"I think what you have there is a living definition of the word," the henchman immediately replied.

CROW: [HENCHMAN] So kill her before she reproduces.

TOM: And on that happy thought, let's get out of here.

[Door sequence is run in reverse.]

[SoL]

[TOM and JOEL are at the counter, reading a book that JOEL is holding. We can see the title "No." on the cover. JOEL flips the last page, and closes the book.]

TOM: Hmm. I don't know, Joel. I thought the first one was better.

JOEL: Sequels are seldom as good as the original.

[CROW enters, loose bits of metal, cloth, and various other pieces of debris covering him.]

CROW: Uh, Joel? Can I have some help over here, please?

[TOM and JOEL look at each other with a worried expression.]

JOEL: Uh, sure thing, pal.

[He follows CROW off to the side. Cambot cuts to the side of the ship as CROW and JOEL enter. Something large is in the background, covered with a tarp.]

CROW: I need some help with this project I'm working on.

JOEL: What is it?

CROW: It's under that tarp.

[JOEL moves over and pulls the tarp off. A large cardboard baler is revealed.]

JOEL: What is this for? We can't spare our cardboard, you know that.

CROW: It's not for cardboard, Joel! It's for my sister!

JOEL: Your sister?

CROW: Yes! I know it sounds insane, but I have to murder her! I can't stand her!

JOEL: Your sister?

CROW: Joel, this may be hard for you to believe, but there's an intense dark side to me. Underneath this seemingly good-natured shell of a 'bot is a heart of evil that would make the Mads cower in terror.

JOEL: Your sister?

CROW: Yes! My sister! Why do you keep asking that?!

JOEL: Because, you don't have a sister, Crow.

[Pause]

CROW: Oh, well then forget it. I'm not really as evil as I thought.

JOEL: That's good to know, buddy.

[Sounds of voices are heard offstage.]

JOEL: That's Gypsy and Crow.

CROW: Sounds like trouble!

[They rush offstage. Cambot cuts back to the counter, where GYPSY and TOM are looking over a newspaper spread out on the table and talking sheer nonsense as CROW and JOEL enter.]

TOM: Do green pants not of skin?! Where not thine milk buckets of blood!

GYPSY: Shoehorns frolicking snowflakes within Indiana! Basketballs painting tulips of mother's girdle!

JOEL: [moving between them] Hey hey hey! What's going on?

CROW: Yeah, why are you two talking like a computer technical support person?

TOM: It's the news! Take a look! It's so mind-bendingly bizarre that normal logic is scared away from your brain!

[JOEL leans over and reads the headline aloud.]

JOEL: "Deep 13 hires new software tester. Mads ecstatic to find someone who was both technical and depressing enough for the job".

[Pause]

CROW: The age of apocalypse is here....

[Commercial sign flashes.]

JOEL: We'll be right back... be afraid. Be very afraid.

Chapter Thirteen : Tanks for the Memories

"Let's go," Chip snapped out. He darted over to The Exterminator.

CROW: What a tactician! "Let's go," -- brilliant!

"Monty," Gadget said, pulling a micro cassette out of the tape recorder.

JOEL: [GADGET] I recorded it over the World Cup - hope that's okay.

"You better take this with you on the Ranger Wing."

JOEL: [GADGET] So you won't have to listen to talk radio.

"Gotcha luv," Monty replied, taking it under one arm. "Ol' Monterey won't be around to help, so you just be careful."

JOEL: [GADGET] Yeah, the plan counts on -- I mean, I'm sorry you can't come along, but...

She smiled up at him as he rubbed her hair roughly. "I will, Monty. Thanks."

JOEL: [GADGET] But hands off.

Zipper cleared his throat.

TOM: [ZIPPER] Just reminding everyone I exist.

CROW: Who's Zipper?

"Rescue Rangers Away!"

JOEL: That's really not an inspiring battle cry, is it?

TOM: It used to be "Rescue Rangers Run Away", but they improved it.

===

It had started life in the 1960s as a British toy

TOM: "Started life as a toy"?

made of die cast steel. Resembling a salt shaker, The Exterminator sported a rotating hemispherical turret with an extended eyestalk, mounted on a base with sharply sloped sides. A second appendage, a suction cup on a rod, was even with a nozzle like projection on the front. No wheels were visible: these were concealed in the wide, flaring steel skirt.

TOM: Where's the Doctor?

CROW: Who?

TOM: Exactly.

It trundled out from behind a garbage can and crossed the street, making for Fat Cat's casino.

JOEL: I call no way. Fat Cat's is on the roof of the building.

TOM: [Sarcasm Sequencer] Ooh! You mean there are little inconsistencies between the Disney Afternoon and Nowak Angst Theater filmed in Depressovision?

Herbie the rat frowned. The Boss had said to keep anyone from entering, and that clearly included Daleks.

JOEL: Herbie the Rat?

TOM: Not from the series. Gadget will probably garrote him with her goggles.

JOEL: Ow, that's dark.

CROW: Meat boy catches on fast.

"Can't enter -" he began to say.

CROW: These were to be his last words as a harpoon plunged into his chest, draining his heart's blood for Monty to use in a recipe.

The suction dart fired, sticking to Herbie's chest.

JOEL: Suction cups stick to fur?

TOM: In the show, suction cups stick to everything. Nowak has seen it. Which means he has no excuse.

Herbie stumbled backwards, but didn't go over.

CROW: Then the drill bit began to spin-

JOEL: Crow-

CROW: [screaming] CROW WHAT? CROW WHAT, ROBINSON?! CROW CREATED TO READ CRAPPY FANFICS SO YOU DON'T GET LONELY?! CROW WHOSE LIFE PARALLELS THAT OF THE DENIZENS OF THE NOWAKVERSE?! FOR I, LIKE THEM, WAS BORN TO SUFFER! SUFFER! SUFFER!

[CROW sobs.]

JOEL: RAM chip?

CROW: [suddenly happy] Thanks, buddy! [JOEL feeds CROW a RAM chip] Yum!

TOM: Hey! Just because I'm more stoic --

JOEL: And for you, Tom?

TOM: Thanks! [JOEL feeds TOM a RAM chip]

He snarled. He wasn't amused, and

TOM: Neither are we.

he didn't notice the thin wire leading from the back of the suction dart to The Exterminator.

CROW: Wouldn't a mouse want to avoid something called an Exterminator?

JOEL: If they wanted to live.

CROW: Say no more.

He noticed the results. As every strand of fur stood away from his body,

TOM: In disgust,

an unearthly bluish glow illuminated the entry to Fat Cat's. Being well grounded, Herbie sparked in a most satisfying manner and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

JOEL: Nowak finally finds something light and amusing, and it's electrocution.

CROW: Not surprising.

Inside The Exterminator, Chip threw a winch on,

CROW: [annoyed] Now, that's just plain tasteless.

JOEL: Winch, not wench.

CROW: [disappointed] Oh.

retracting the dart and cocking the action. Electronic photo flash capacitors whined, recharging from an alkaline battery.

TOM: The batteries were rated at 3.0 volts-

CROW: SHUT UP!

Chip looked through the window all around The Exterminator, under the turret. He nudged Herbie away

TOM: I'm sorry guys, but a tank does not nudge someone away -- it grinds them into a pulp under it.

and crashed the party.

TOM: Scratch one future dentist.

===

The doors splintered and caved in, and The Exterminator rolled into the dead silence. Though she was still balanced on his lapels, Widget and Fat Cat watched as the unstoppable juggernaut moved slowly in, turret flicking from side to side.

TOM: [CHIP] Where to start? It all looks so good....

One of Fat Cat's rats tossed a chair at it. The furniture bounced harmlessly away, and the rat was soon covered with a deluge of rubber cement from the nozzle on front.

CROW: Covering his nose and mouth, suffocating him to death.

He fell over and rolled, gathering other henchmen into a single pile, like some snowball rolling downhill or a black hole gathering matter.

JOEL: Ooh, what an accessible analogy.

TOM: I never really thought of snowballs and black holes in the same category, myself.

Fat Cat and Widget's eyes met.

TOM: [singing] Across a crowded rooooom....

"Truce?" suggested Fat Cat.

"Okay by me," agreed Widget.

JOEL: [WIDGET] I'm sure I can trust you, after all....

"GET IT!" Fat Cat cried out, dumping Widget to the floor.

"TAKE COVER!" yelled Jürgen, who had a better grasp of the situation.

===

JOEL: Isn't that an operator in C++?

TOM: Undocumented feature. It replaces non-Microsoft products in memory with ads for Explorer.

The events which transpired within the next few minutes would go down in history as

JOEL: The Night That Dalek-looking Thing Crashed Fat Cat's Casino Party -- Literally.

the Battle of Casino. If half the rodents who claimed to have been eyewitnesses had indeed been present, then a simple calculation shows there would have been no room in Fat Cat's for the fight to take place.

TOM: If we let a = the floor area of the casino while a' is the area occupied by -

CROW: Stop it.

TOM: Math wuss.

Like a Monitor ironclad unleashed against a wooden fleet,

JOEL: Nowak's analogies are about as easy to penetrate as sloped Chobham.

TOM: Hoo-boy, you said it!

CROW: I think.

The Exterminator moved slowly about, invulnerable to thrown furniture, spreading fear, panic, and a thick layer of glue.

CROW: It was invulnerable to spreading fear, panic, and a thick layer of glue?

JOEL: Given that it can only electrocute one rodent at a time, all you need is to have two of Fat Cat's henchmen attack from different angles and knock it over.

TOM: We're talking about cats who go toe-to-toe with chipmunks and lose.

JOEL: Never mind then.

A quick spray of WD40

CROW: Ooh, I love that stuff.

TOM: Who doesn't?

under the skirting dissolved the rubber cement and prevented The Exterminator from becoming a spider trapped in its own web. The sucker dart / taser made quick work of any opponents large enough to pull free of the sticky mass. The solid armor was invincible, even against the impact of a one-pound hammer dropped from the ceiling.

JOEL: Which Fat Cat had set up just in case this happened.

TOM: If this thing is so invincible, how come the Rangers never used it before?

CROW: They had to wait for that ground floor entrance to the casino to open up.

Soon, Fat Cat's minions were immobilized by the cement, or shocked into unconsciousness.

JOEL: Chip probably read them the bit where Widget accuses her father of abandoning her.

The Exterminator commanded a field of fire covering most of the room, and the only opponents left were behind tables at the walls. It ruled the dance floor.

CROW: And it insisted on leading.

By an odd coincidence, Fat Cat, Mr. Calvert, Jürgen, and Widget had taken cover behind the same overturned table. Jürgen watched the melee

JOEL: "Hopeless defense" would be more accurate.

and gave commentary, while Widget calmly groomed her ears and Fat Cat's blood pressure skyrocketed.

"Okay," Jürgen said. "That lizard has just been knocked out by the dart. I think I saw his skeleton for a moment while the current was flowing. The hedgehog has grabbed a table leg. I think he'll make it because the dart isn't ready to be fired... wait, the panzer

CROW: The pansey?

is going in reverse and to the side and... "

TOM: Aren't hedgehogs supposed to be real fast?

Jürgen's impassive narration was blocked by a loud crash, "Yes, the hedgehog has tripped over the wire and has landed on a roulette table, breaking it..."

JOEL: Think it's Sonic?

TOM: Could be. He always gets stupid and worthless in fanfics.

CROW: Hey, the main original character has an artificial left arm. Wasn't there some other fanfic character with... [CROW trails off.]

[JOEL & the BOTS look at one another nervously.]

ALL: AAAAUGH!

Behind another table, two crewmen had found a mop. One put the mop on his head, batted his eyes, and blew kisses at Mr. Calvert. The other pointed and laughed. Mr. Calvert realized he would never live this down.

CROW: The answer? Kill them all.

TOM: Given that Mr. Calvert's an officer, I would think those crewmen would behave a little more....

"So what are you hiding for?" Fat Cat hissed.

"I'm not hiding," Mr. Calvert said, stunned into a defense. "I am in a position of defilade."

TOM: My God, he used it right!

It was becoming clear that Fat Cat's few remaining minions longed to be in defilade as well.

"You said truce, not alliance," Widget said mildly. "It's not my casino."

Fat Cat ground his teeth.

JOEL: Like they weren't sharp enough.

"Shutting off the elevator was a good move," Jürgen remarked. "It's restricted to this level, at least.

CROW: Until they get seven Chaos Emeralds and save up fifty Power Rings.

They'll have to leave the vehicle behind to go up the stairs to rescue their friend, but then again, there won't be anyone on your side left to exploit the advantage, except for the porcupine upstairs."

"You need reinforcements," Widget said with a smile.

"What. Do. You. Want?" Fat Cat hissed, slowly.

TOM: And thus, a solid friendship was born.

"One of the Rangers," Widget said immediately.

"We can offer a swap and then kill 'em both," Fat Cat suggested.

"I don't want to lie to them," Widget shook her head.

CROW: [WIDGET] I may be trying to crush my sister's spirit, but I'm not mean.

"Oh, you're Byronic?" asked Fat Cat, mildly disappointed. "Well, destroying one of the Rangers is a step in the right direction, and the one I caught is the most expendable to them... so yes, I agree.

CROW: I agree too. Dale's a loser.

TOM: No argument.

What's your plan?"

"Lever it over with table legs?" Widget suggested to Jürgen.

Jürgen frowned. "Tricky and risky... but I think it'll work."

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Get out there and try it, Mister Calvert.

"Begging your pardon, ma'am," Mr. Calvert coughed. "I took the liberty of sending Mr. Fenton for three Recoilless teams when you jumped on the cat."

Jürgen and Widget smiled at him.

TOM: When I think of people smiling in this universe, I see the friendly grin of a skull.

CROW: Yep.

JOEL: I will from now on, Tom.

"Well done, Mr. Calvert." Mr. Calvert realized he probably would live down the incident earlier in the evening. Six mice from Albacore trotted in through the front door: three carried .22 Darned Nearly Recoilless Rifles; three carried backpacks of .22 rimfire. They split up to find cover.

CROW: [WAITRESS] I'm not letting you in until you pay the cover charge. Oh, and there's a two-drink minimum.

"It's steel. Too much risk of ricochet," Widget decided. "We need to get it outside."

CROW: [WIDGET] Metal's softer outside, you know.

A small, pathetic drip of glue dribbled out of the nozzle.

CROW: Eww!

"Golly, Chip," came Gadget's voice from The Exterminator. "We're out of glue!"

TOM: [GADGET] And I better tell our enemies!

Widget perked up. "My sister's in there," she cried out.

Uh-oh, thought Fat Cat. Scratch one alliance.

CROW: Ha ha! Uh... cat, scratch... kill me.

"You're right, Gadget," yelled Chip. "We had best beat an ignominious retreat!"

TOM: [FAT CAT] Hmmm. Rescue Rodents retreating. That's not suspicious....

Widget's ears flattened, and she threw a fist into the air. In a deep, throaty voice she cried out:

TOM: [WIDGET] Check, please!

CROW: Hey, she likes this stuff, doesn't she?

"FIRE!!"

JOEL: And was trampled to death by the panicked crowd. The end.

To Fat Cat, the triple reports of three rifle rounds and the screaming vwipp they made as they ricocheted about his casino shattering everything that wasn't already broken were merely dull, anticlimactic echoes to the fire and feral rapacity of the figure who unleashed them.

TOM: Joel, my parser just blew.

JOEL: Widget's nasty, and that excites Fat Cat.

TOM: Ugh.

He was almost unaware of the damage to his walls as he stared at the berserk and furious form of the Gray Mouse.

"Could this be ... love?" he murmured aloud.

CROW: I believe this is the first Rescue Ranger fanfic where a female character gets more passes than Gadget.

TOM: Could be.

JOEL: Call Guiness -- this is the first male Ranger fan to show no overt obsession for landing Gadget!

One of the shots missed The Exterminator entirely. The other two careened off the die cast steel.

TOM: The Rangers are using tanks. Mice are packing heat. If Wolf shows up, I will build myself tear ducts for the sole purpose of weeping in response.

Most of their energy canceled out, but there was enough left that the impact lifted the vehicle and spun it around, ironically pointing at the trashed front door.

TOM: In a phenomenon called "spalling," slivers of metal were knocked off the inside of the armor, shredding Chip and Gadget. Their blood mingled in the lover's embrace denied them in life -

The Exterminator wobbled for a moment, as Chip recovered from the incredible noise. Neither bullet was able to penetrate, but paint had been stripped away and two deep dents added to the casing.

CROW: So much for the resale value.

Chip put the pedal to the metal and drove to the exit. Definitely, he had outworn his welcome.

JOEL: When the hosts start shooting at you, it's a clue.

The Recoilless teams were reloading as fast as they could, but The Exterminator was already out the door. Determined, Widget leapt from cover and went after it. Jürgen muttered a curse

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Mephistopheles and Beelzebub, I conjure and abjure thee, to -

and went after her.

The Exterminator was halfway across the street by the time he got out.

TOM: For those playing along at home, we would like to repeat this means Fat

Cat's casino must have an exit at street level.

She was standing on the curb, watching it with a determined expression.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Darned curb....

A Recoilless team was at Jürgen's heels. The shooter dropped to one knee.

"Give it here," Widget ordered, holding her hand down without looking.

JOEL: So he handed her his knee.

BOTS: Ew!

CROW: Cool!

She took the weapon onto her shoulder, went to one knee, and aimed for a long time. These won't penetrate the armor, she thought. Maybe...

TOM: [WIDGET] It will bounce back at me and end this fanfic! It's worth the risk.

She fired. The round bounced off The Exterminator's turret and went off into the night.

JOEL: To where? Who cares!

TOM: Police were called to investigate gunfire. They found an armed mouse, who refused to squeak without an attorney....

The Exterminator flipped over, base towards them.

She let herself smile and handed the weapon back. "Hit it high to knock it over," she said. "You need a long lever arm to generate torque."

JOEL: Thank you for the dynamics lesson, Nowak.

TOM: It's part of his special magic.

CROW: It makes me want to hurl.

TOM: See?

The hamster nodded, impressed, holding it steady as the Gray Mouse darted off and his loader went to work.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Even though I'm unarmed I'm going to run off to confront Chip and Gadget. Bye!

"What's torque?" he asked.

CROW: The word describes how the fanfic makes me feel.

"The blonde guy in The Monkees," his loader explained.

JOEL: And they never played their instruments.

CROW: No way!

TOM: Yes, way!

"I'll never understand engineering," he sighed.

TOM: Then what the hell are you doing in this story?!

Chip pulled

CROW: His finger!

[TOM makes an appropriate sound effect.]

the ejection lanyard.

A B6-2 rocket engine will lift a chipmunk 300 feet into the air.

JOEL: You guys think Nowak tried it?

[BOTS make "ouch" sounds.]

However, as Chip realized as ejection seat started to fire, it needs to be in an upright position.

TOM: Yup, just a little late with that realization, there.

JOEL: Note to self - do not fire a rocket engine when it will boost me into concrete.

Chip's ejection seat skidded across the street, striking sparks, as Chip went ouchieouchieouchie. Then it hit the sloped part of the far curb, which sent him up into the night sky.

CROW: Most of him, anyway.

Chip's ejection seat reached apogee. A parachute popped out -- only to be snagged by a hook let out the back of the swooping Ranger Wing.

CROW: Are we expected to believe he survived?

JOEL: This isn't dark enough for you?

CROW: I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking....

The two loaded Recoilless teams fired at the plane,

CROW: They're loaded. They're armed, drunk, and shooting into the air.

JOEL: Typical Saturday night in Manhattan.

one hitting the left wing. "Load bird shot,"

TOM: Wait a moment. If they had .22 bird shot, why didn't Widget use it to shoot at Gadget?

JOEL: Because then Widget would have killed her.

TOM: Oh. Huh?

Widget called out before running around to the other side of The Exterminator.

"She's not in the chair," Jürgen said. In horror, he looked at the toppled toy. Widget was peering through the top.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] You don't suppose - we hurt your sister or something?

"I don't see her. Perhaps her body has been rendered charred and unrecognizable," she said hopefully.

JOEL: See guys? Even Nowak adds a touch of hope to his -

TOM: Shut up.

Jürgen walked around behind her. Leaning past her, he pressed the Play button on a memo recorder.

TOM: Miraculously undamaged by the exhaust of a B6-2 rocket engine.

"Golly, Chip," came Gadget's voice. "We're out of glue!"

Widget looked slowly up at Jürgen.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Oh, poopie.

"We caught one," Jürgen said, counting on his fingers. "One in the panzer. One, at least, to fly the plane."

"--Leaving two to rescue their friend," Widget finished. They looked back at the casino.

CROW: I'm missing somebody. Dale, Chip, Monty, Gadget....

JOEL: Zipper.

CROW: Who?

"We've been Rommelled," Widget concluded.

CROW: Is that a verb?

TOM: Not since 1945. Speaking of time....

JOEL: Guys, I've got an idea for a fun project.

CROW: Oh, goodie....

[1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... 5 ... 6 ... SoL]

[JOEL and the three bots stand in the SoL main deck. GYPSY wears a wind breaker, while TOM has a picture next to them, laying face down on the table, and CROW stands next to a TV turned to face the audience.]

JOEL: Hi, everybody. My idea for a new fun project is based on the realization that Zipper is under-utilized. So I had my bots come up with ideas to make Zipper more interesting. Tom?

TOM: Thanks, Joel. Even people involved in writing the original series will admit that being mute and with no discernible personality quirks, Zipper was soon relegated to doing little more than hovering around and buzzing. But I realized that Nowak's comments about the size of a mouse litter applies even more so to flies. So I came up with... [JOEL tips up the picture, revealing an evil-looking, black-clad fly that looks similar to Zipper] Velcro, Zipper's thoroughly evil twin, who joins Fat Cat.

JOEL: Neat, Tom. And what does Velcro do for Fat Cat?

TOM: Well, he mostly just hovers around and buzzes.

JOEL: Oh....

TOM: But he does so evilly!

JOEL: [Uncertainly] Well, that's good, Tom.

[CROW rolls his eyes in disgust.]

JOEL: And what do you have, Crow?

CROW: Well, like Tom, I also took inspiration from the overall soul-destroying tone of this fanfic, and from another cartoon which has had a bit more success with a mute character. I put together a video pastiche.

[The TV turns on. We start with a scene from "Tale Spin," which shows a fly flying over the water, where he gets eaten by a fish. Then we have CHIP looking terrified

- perhaps from "Ghost of a Chance". His voice has been redubbed.]

CHIP: Oh my God, they killed Zipper!

[Cut to a scene with Gadget furious - "Dirty Rotten Diapers"?]

GADGET: YOU... BASTARD!

CROW: Cool, huh?

[Long, awkward pause.]

JOEL: Okay... Gypsy! What did you come up with?

GYPSY: Oh! Well, I came up with something similar to the sounds encoded onto plastic strips on greeting cards a few years ago. When you zip my jacket up, it makes a sound! It makes zippers more interesting.

[JOEL dubiously zips up GYPSY'S jacket. We hear MAGIC VOICE's voice, distorted but coherent.]

MAGIC VOICE: It's cold!

TOM: Uh... neat. But...

JOEL: What Tom means is that the assignment was to think of something to make the cartoon character Zipper more interesting.

GYPSY: [blankly, as usual] Who's Zipper?

[Awkward pause. Commercial sign.]

Chapter Fourteen : Meeting Engagement

JOEL: Shouldn't you avoid getting engaged when you first meet?

CROW: I hate these arranged marriages.

Monty pulled Chip into the Ranger Wing as they sped away from Fat Cat's on autopilot.

TOM: I thought they would be in the Ranger Wing.

"We're going in the wrong direction," Chip pointed out. "Gadget and Dale will be on the roof."

"It's no good, mate," Monterey corrected him.

CROW: [MONTY] They're probably dead already.

TOM: [CHIP] Lucky devils.

"Left vertical blade's been hit. We can't hover or land vertically until it's fixed."

TOM: Monty loses his accent.

CROW: Good.

"Then we need to land in water," Chip said, aghast.

JOEL: [CHIP] I already bathed this month!

"No, we don't have time. I'll crawl out on the wing while you hold it steady."

TOM: [MONTY] Roight!

CROW: [CHIP] No, Monty, I meant hold the plane steady, not the AAAAK-

[JOEL makes a "VRRRoooom ... crash!" noise.]

===

Dale stared up at the porcupine, who was looking down at him and grinning.

CROW: [PRICKLES] So, Dale, you ever been a woman?

TOM: Well, he is wearing a dress....

"I think it's only fair to give you a chance to surrender," Dale cautioned him.

TOM: About what?

CROW: Incoming technobabble!

TOM: NOOOO!

A popular office doodad of some years ago was a set of five or so steel balls, each on a trapeze, set into a frame. When one ball at the end was swung, it would strike the other balls and, in a demonstration of conservation of momentum, would sent the far ball swinging on its trapeze.

JOEL: [Disgusted] Yeah, yeah, conservation of momentum....

One of these steel balls swung down from Gadget's Ceiling Crawling Suctionmobile and struck Prickles firmly on the back of his head. In a demonstration of conservation of momentum, his

CROW: Skull burst with a gentle pop.

TOM: [DALE] Ew! Isn't it bad when their heads get all soft like that?

unconscious body slid a considerable distance.

TOM: If we assume the elasticity of the collision is 0.75, and set --

"Good to see you," Dale said, tail thumping.

CROW: Now he's a dog.

Zipper buzzed a greeting.

JOEL: [DALE] Who's the fly?

Gadget removed the straps holding her in a face - down driving position,

[CROW whistles nervously.]

and dropped gently to the floor. She took out an X-Acto knife and cut through the table cloths tied around Dale.

CROW: [GADGET] Golly, Dale, didn't this happen on your last date with Foxglove?

"Good to see you," she agreed. "You okay?"

JOEL: By whose standards?

"No problem. Say, how are you going to get back up there?" he asked, looking up at the Suctionmobile. It ran on four wheels, each with six suction cups along the rims. The ceilings at Fat Cat's were, understandably, high, and by clinging to them it was possible to move anywhere unnoticed.

TOM: Cats don't look up, after all.

CROW: Hey, it worked in "Adventures in Squirrelsitting".

Gadget looked up, uncertainly. "Oh, shoot."

TOM: D'oh!

CROW: Boing!

JOEL: Oh, for fun!

===

"Mr. Calvert. Break the men

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Of composing haiku.

into three squads, each with a Recoilless team. One to hold this floor, one on the roof, one

TOM: Ring to find them all and in the darkness bind them.

in ambush outside if they go out the windows."

TOM: Oh, you mean the ones a previous chapter stated were nonexistent? Gotcha.

Widget was already halfway to the elevator. "I'll stay with Widget."

"What widget, sir?"

"It's her name."

TOM: Name dropper!

JOEL: [CALVERT] Mister big shot veteran gets to know her name....

"Oh. Do you want a bodyguard, sir?" Mr. Calvert was clearly worried.

JOEL: If something happens to Widget and Jürgen, he'd be in charge. How worried can he be?

CROW: I think he meant a bodyguard to protect Jürgen from Widget.

"You can't spare the manpower... get more reinforcements, use them to search the building."

TOM: It's a big cat statue. There's only two rooms.

"Sir."

Jürgen barely caught up with Widget. "You should wait downstairs," he complained.

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] This is man's work, little missy.

TOM: [WIDGET] I wonder how your tonsils would look outside your mouth.

"She'll slip through your fingers,"

TOM: [JÜRGEN] At least I have ten of them.

JOEL: Eight.

TOM: Oops.

Widget shook her head. "She's halfway out the building already. She doesn't intend to go downstairs. That pepper pot was a distraction. She's going up. My sister thinks with wings, she does," she murmured.

JOEL: Most of us think with our heads.

"That's why I'm sending a group to hold the roof," Jürgen explained. "But if she's that far ahead of us, she's already gone."

CROW: So they went home. The end.

Pink eyes regarded him steadily. "Then there's no harm in my going ahead, is there?"

CROW: [WIDGET] After all, there's only three of them, and it's not like they're mad at me.

Jürgen leaned against the walls of the elevator and sighed in frustration.

TOM: [JÜRGEN] 12,944 words to go.

===

Zipper undid the last strap on the cylindrical device fastened to the now inaccessible Suctionmobile. It dropped into Gadget's waiting arms. "Thanks, Zipper," she said. "Please scout around a little."

CROW: [GADGET] Nowhere in particular.

The plucky fly saluted and was off.

CROW: [GADGET] Finally got rid of him. He was stealing my best lines.

"Dale, we have to get to the roof. The Ranger Wing will meet us."

"Right," Dale agreed. "What's that, Gadget?"

CROW: [GADGET] It's a plane I built out of a flashlight! Geeze....

It was a large-capacity disposable cigarette lighter which she held

horizontally, the top facing away from her. A sliding handle was attached to the thumb gear. "It's a little short ranged, but it should be good enough," she evaded cheerfully.

[Dead silence.]

JOEL: Uh... guys?

TOM: Nuh-uh, Joel. Gadget doesn't build lethal weapons. Even Nowak would know and respect that.

Zipper came back at high speed, and started buzzing frantically.

CROW: I hear there's a website where they post what Zipper was actually saying.

JOEL: What's that, boy? Timmy's in the well? Oh no!

"Widget's coming?" Dale echoed, shocked. "Gadget, let's go!"

[Everyone makes clucking noises.]

"How many with her?" Gadget asked instead.

===

Widget paused before turning the corner. She sniffed. "Do you smell victory?" she asked Jürgen curiously.

TOM: No, that's foreshadowing.

"Flammenwerfer!" Jürgen snapped.

CROW: Tom, what's a Flammenwerfer?

TOM: Something that werfs flamms.

JOEL: Like Gonterman after Sonic # 47?

TOM: Not quite that dangerous.

"No," Gadget corrected. "Flame thrower. Jürgen, get out of the way."

"Gadget," Dale said, horrified, "What are you doing?!"

TOM: [GADGET] Acting out of character. Why?

"Finishing this!

TOM: The story?!

JOEL: Maybe!

TOM & CROW: DO IT! DO THE DEED!

Jürgen, get out of the way!"

"I absolutely will not!"

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] She still owes me for one week of henching!

he snapped, trying to hold Widget behind him. "Widget, verschwindet!"

CROW: Tom?

TOM: Disappear.

"Jürgen, I'm warning you-"

Dale heard a scream from Widget that seemed to stab into his ribs. For a moment, he thought Gadget had actually fired. Instead, Widget had jumped, kicked off the wall, and was -

-- flashing in like a leaping cat -

JOEL: [WIDGET] If I die, the story ends.

TOM: Hey, she does have a humane side.

Sparks flew but Gadget was shifting her aim while trying to start the flame thrower.

CROW: [GADGET] Silly me, I had it in drive....

The fluid didn't light.

Widget threw her cloak over her sister's head. Her left arm was drawn back, fist touching her right shoulder.

JOEL: [WIDGET] I pledge allegiance to the flag-

A spring released, the arm snapped like the arm of a mousetrap, connecting against Gadget's cheekbone.

TOM: Oh, cool!

As her stainless steel fist moved left, Widget lifted her leg and turned right, catching Gadget's knee and throwing her to the ground.

TOM: Are they wearing diaphanous robes?

Ironically, the padding of Widget's cape probably kept Gadget's skull from cracking.

CROW: [WIDGET] Ha ha, silly me. Next time I try to crack my sister's skull, I'll remember that one.

When she hit the ground, she instinctively rolled towards Widget. Widget was on one foot,

CROW: Doing a bit of impromptu yoga.

the other drawn back to kick. Widget went over.

TOM: [excited] And did they grab each other and roll around?

They rolled to their feet and faced one another, separated by the width of the hall.

TOM: Nuts!

CROW: Hey, this is just like Street Fighter II, now!

Gadget screamed and jumped, slamming her slightly bigger sister against the wall. They clenched,

TOM: Oh, yes....

going for one another's eyes with their right hands. Widget's left arm slowly coiled around her sister's waist, squeezing her, slowly tighter and tighter.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Let me give you a big mousie hug!

If Gadget had been thinking more clearly,

TOM: She would have taken Zipper's role.

she would have thought about leverage and power:

CROW: Oh, of course. Everyone in a fight to the death thinks about leverage and power.

the less speed, the more force. Widget's arm could have cracked ribs or even her back if it tightened. As it was, the only machine she could think of was the X-Acto knife in its sheath.

JOEL: Guys, I lost track of the "shes".

TOM: Just try to picture it in your mind, like me.

JOEL: No. I won't.

CROW: I just want to know since when a knife is classified as a machine.

Her left hand brought it up, and forced it against Widget's waist, aiming below the ribs and up.

CROW: Gadget was a Navy SEAL and learned how to use a knife against the Republican Guard.

The tip snapped off.

Widget laughed. "I get all my fabric from DuPont."

TOM: Actually, Kevlar is relatively easy to cut with a knife. She'd need -

CROW: Stop it.

Widget's left arm was driving into Gadget's back, lifting her off the ground. Gadget kicked against the wall, sending them both crashing down- onto her.

TOM: Now kiss!

"Hold it!" Dale yelled, flame thrower pointed at them.

TOM: Darn.

Widget flashed him a look. "Go ahead!" she hissed. "Do us! Go ahead!"

CROW: [DALE] Both of you? I don't think I can -

Gadget was starting to have trouble breathing.

JOEL: Pollen season.

Widget held her left wrist, trying to twist the knife out. Gadget's right hand gripped Widget's ear firmly, and drove her head into the floor.

CROW: I just realized... this story's kind of dark, isn't it?

Dale turned the flame thrower on Jürgen, who flinched back. "Let go NOW, Widget!"

TOM: [DALE] Or I'll banish Jürgen to the nega-dimension with this flamethrower!

"I'll break her back," Widget hissed.

JOEL: Are you utterly without conscience? Is there any act too ugly for Nowak to inflict on these forest creatures!?

TOM: Uhm...

CROW: Veiled threats of lesbian squirrel rape.

JOEL: You're right. It could be worse.

Dale grabbed the flame thrower's slide with a trembling hand. Jürgen, eyes terror-stricken, stumbled backwards against the wall.

"Okay, okay," Widget

CROW: [WIDGET] Finish him off.

surrendered. She let Gadget go, stepped backwards away from her. They stood a moment, gasping for breath. Then Widget's glance went to Jürgen, and Gadget's knife flashed. Widget threw herself out of the way, but the knife slit an ear.

TOM: The hell - ?

"Gadget!" Dale yelped.

ALL: GADGET!!

Widget pressed a hand to her ear. "Princess," she hissed.

"Slot machine," Gadget hissed back. A drop of blood gathered at the top of the knife and splattered on the floor.

TOM: Flame-throwers, knives... Nowak, what is WRONG with you!?

Jürgen ducked away from Dale, grabbed Widget by the upper arms. "Not here," he snapped. "Not now! You're too - important - to die for this!"

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] You have to sign my check!

Widget stared at him, gasping for breath.

CROW: Pollen season. These things run in families.

"They have a flame thrower!" he reminded her.

TOM: [WIDGET] Oh, that's right! I had forgotten!

"You guys move back," Dale quavered. "Gadget, let's go!"

The blood on Widget's face showed in stark relief against her white fur.

CROW: Reminding us all that the Rescue Rangers were never like this.

Trying to look languid, she reached down to pick up her cape, turned her back, and walked so quickly Jürgen had trouble keeping up.

"They'll bring others," Dale pointed out.

JOEL: Now Dale's showing common sense again. Why?

TOM: Nowak Rules.

Gadget had taken the flame thrower back. She was limping on her right leg, and her cheek was starting to swell up.

JOEL: At least something swell's happened to her.

"I almost had her, Dale," she said. "I almost had her. I'm sorry!"

TOM: Me too.

"For what?" he asked, flabbergasted.

"If she kills you," Gadget said simply. "She doesn't care if you get in the crossfire.

TOM: Next on CNN!

When Jürgen blocked me, I should have -"

"-Been more like her?" Dale asked.

Gadget didn't answer. Instead, she opened a door leading to an office.

===

CROW: [whiny] Joel, I'm carsick.

TOM: Count the lines. It'll make you feel better. [chuckles evilly]

JOEL: What is with you, Tom? C'mon, we're a family.

TOM: Precisely. In the Nowakverse.

Chip was still struggling on the wing. The rubber band which spun the vertical blade had been split by a .22 bullet,

TOM: Nowak got it wrong. The Ranger Wing is a tiltrotor with direct-drive electric motors.

and he was trying to rig a temporary replacement out of the shock absorber on his parachute.

CROW: Because Gadget's planes never crash.

JOEL: Oh, goodness no.

The problem was

CROW: Chip... has a Problem.

that the Wing's horizontal speed was making the blade windmill - it was spinning overhead as he tried to fit the replacement. And to work at all, the belt needed to have considerable tension.

CROW: Sexual tension.

And most distracting of all,

JOEL: Chip had a tiny sliver of acorn between two teeth, where he couldn't get it with a toothpick, and he had no floss.

they were being shot at.

TOM: That'll do it, too.

The hole the last .22 bullet had made in the wing was under Chip's belly, and he tried very hard not to imagine what a hole in him that size would look like.

JOEL: Nowak better not tell us, either.

The Ranger Wing lurched. A pattern of holes appeared in the stabilizer.

TOM: And if the Ranger Wing had a stabilizer, that might mean something.

"They're using bird shot, Monty," Chip yelled out.

CROW: [CHIP] Good thing we're not birds.

"I know. I'll open range a mite."

TOM: [MONTY] So they can acquire us on their missile battery.

They were circling Fat Cat's. Each time a shot came a little too close,

JOEL: For comfort,

Monty slipped sideways to increase the radius of their orbit. Chip gritted his teeth and pulled, slipping the new belt into place.

TOM: Chip has a bit of a weight problem.

He scrambled back into the fuselage.

"It's not going to work, Monty."

JOEL: [CHIP] You can't initiate a fusion reaction at room temperature.

"Looks good to me," Monty objected, glancing at the propeller.

CROW: Monty is excited by propellers.

"No. The plan won't work."

"We'll wait for Gadget and Dale to reach the roof. Then we'll let them fire, and swoop in and get 'em while the bad guys reload. Why, back in Southeast Asia -"

[Everyone groans.]

JOEL: Now Monty was flying evac in Vietnam.

"If Gadget and Dale go on the roof, they'll be caught anyway!"

TOM: So to hell with them!

JOEL: Notice that Chip forgot to mention someone.

CROW: Who?

Chip's head was throbbing.

TOM: The rye whisky he bolted to keep his shattered nerves intact was beginning to catch up to him.

"And those guys down there will probably shoot us down, and then we're no good to Gadget!

JOEL: Or Dale.

TOM: Or... what's his name, the moth.

The best we can do is force them to waste their ammunition on us.

TOM: [MONTY] Sounds like a good plan - hey, wait a minute!

They know Gadget will try to leave from the roof."

CROW: [CHIP] She thinks with wings, you know.

Monty nodded grimly. "I think you're right. Of course, that's why we prepared the alternate escape plan."

TOM: In the event that the first escape plan is unable to fulfill its duties, the alternate....

Chip nodded. "Do you think it'll work?"

CROW: [MONTY] No, the alternate escape plan was just my little joke.

"Gadget was very confident," Monty said sadly.

Chip shook his head, despair engulfing his soul.

JOEL: I think he should get a little prize for making it this long.

Chapter Fifteen : Felines

TOM: [singing] Nothing more than felines...

Gadget crawled out of an upper level window onto the alternate escape route.

CROW: [GADGET] Huh - I thought the alternate escape plan was just Monty's little joke.

The Hot Wheel track stretching five stories down was painted black on the bottom, to blend into the sky when viewed from below. It hadn't been easy to assemble unnoticed by the guards, but Gadget had pulled it off.

CROW: So, actually, she had stuck it on.

TOM: Gray mouse.

She lay prone on the race car chassis sitting on top of the track, held by a single cord. Dale lay on top of her, too worried to enjoy the situation in the slightest.

JOEL: And the envy of every male reader.

"Ready?" she asked.

CROW: Doesn't the guy usually ask that?

"No," he said honestly.

A flick of a knife and

TOM: Dale's head dropped to the pavement.

they started down. Slowly at first, then they picked up speed. Dale felt himself growing lighter.

JOEL: His diet was working.

TOM: And his exercise.

JOEL: I can feel it here, and here.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

TOM: But time in this warped continuity had made him used to that.

After any time as a Ranger, one quickly learned that being lighter meant one was approaching the ground with increasing rapidity. Speed was not a friend when approaching the ground, because it was hard to steer around that particular obstacle.

CROW: Thank you for explaining why falling is bad.

TOM: Come on, if Arthur Dent can miss the ground, Dale can certainly do it!

"It's fifty feet down," Dale gulped.

"Don't be afraid," Gadget assured him. "It's not quite a record for Hot Wheel track riding."

TOM: I forget - did they ever ride Hot Wheel tracks in the show?

JOEL: I can't remember.

TOM: And do you suppose Disney had some sort of deal with the Tinkertoy people?

CROW: Could be.

"What's the record?"

CROW: [GADGET] "It's a disk of black vinyl, with analog encrypted sound. But that doesn't matter now."

"Fifty two feet, set by Naughty Knauty at the Inn By The Falls. When he was trying to jump Wappingers Creek."

TOM: In Europe, they'd call that creek a river.

Dale nodded. He was familiar with the exploits of the darehamster

JOEL: I get this terrible mental image of a hamster in a white jumpsuit.

TOM: Covered with stars and a big number "1"....

CROW: Cool!

[Others look at him.]

CROW: What is it now?

and he knew the hotel; next to where Wappingers Creek went over a three foot concrete embankment. Then doubt set in.

JOEL: [DALE] Oh my God, Gadget's driving....

He had to raise his voice because the rattling of the track was getting louder.

"Wasn't that where he set a record for the most broken bones?"

"He set both at the same -"

TOM: Get it? "Set"? "Broken bones"?

At this point, Dale couldn't hear her any more, which was just as well.

He wasn't sure if he wanted to watch the sidewalk rush towards them, but he felt he would have very little time left to watch anything.

CROW: That would be Gadget.

There was a sharp jerk

JOEL: That would be Dale.

as they leveled out. They were at ground level and alive. Elation. Until he noticed

TOM: Who the author was.

how fast they were moving. The laws of physics

CROW: Nooo!

JOEL: Easy, buddy -

CROW: When this guy starts talking about physics, pain is not far away.

limited their maximum speed to no more than 30 miles per hour, but this is fast when you're both close to the ground and a chipmunk.

ALL: [flatly] Too Fast.

He blinked as he saw what was coming up next. He was probably missing something,

TOM: [Sarcasm sequencer] Dale? Nah.

but he couldn't imagine why Gadget put in a loop.

TOM: Earth to Dale. The girl doesn't like you.

He started chanting his mantra against fear: idawannadie idawannadie idawannadie omommymommymommy...

After the loop, Dale was beginning to regret not staying behind at Fat Cat's.

JOEL: Now that it looked like he might live, to suffer and endure.

Even after a few banked turns to slow down, they were still moving with terrifying speed. He consoled himself with the fact the worst was behind them.

JOEL: That cat fight scene was pretty awful, wasn't it?

TOM: Speak for yourself.

"Brace yourself," she shouted. "Here's where I ran out of track."

The concrete of the sidewalk was smoother than the asphalt of the road, but less so than the plastic they were leaving behind. As a rule, Hot Wheel cars do not have good suspension.

TOM: Is that a rule?

JOEL: Yes - they snuck it in as part of the Family Leave act.

He gritted his teeth. The vibration just made them hurt worse, but

TOM: Pain was becoming a dear friend.

it would be better than biting his tongue accidentally.

"I lay the track to keep us on this stretch of sidewalk," Gadget shouted. "Pretty clever, huh?"

CROW: [GADGET] And did I mention how modest I am?

"Isn't this the way to Cat Alley?" Dale asked.

CROW: [Terrified] Wildcat Alley? But -

TOM: No. Cat Alley. It's where the cats hang out. It's in the show. No anthropomorphic wolves or hedgehogs.

JOEL: What?

TOM: After your time.

"Oh, shoot."

CROW: Drawing a Saturday Night Special, Dale complied happily!

Gadget dragged her toes on the ground to stop the car. Since she didn't wear shoes,

TOM: She'd save on her next pedicure.

she couldn't press hard.

CROW: But she felt that maybe her feelings for Foxglove were reciprocated.

She and Dale got up slowly, looking

TOM: Smashing in Jean-Clawed's new fall collection for the funny animal on the go.

around carefully. No cats in obvious sight, but it was dark - and it was their territory. Broken terrain, lots of things to hide behind, perfect for a pouncing pelagic predator.

ALL: [Guffaw]

CROW: No, there's not enough salt water.

Gadget spun about,

JOEL: Faster and faster, until vomit sprayed -

CROW: I'm going to remind you of that next time you threaten me with a strike.

JOEL: Okay. I'll give myself a strike.

flame thrower ready. "Something's moving."

"I don't see anything," Dale said dubiously.

"I'm telling you, something's moving and it ain't us!"

JOEL: Aliens reference.

TOM: Check. Fanboy meter's reading in the kilogonterman range.

"Gadget, does the sidewalk seem, uh, furry to you?" Dale asked worriedly.

CROW: [DALE] Or is it the drugs?

The kitten Dale was standing on flopped over and regarded the new guests with bright yellow eyes. Its head was about the size of Dale's whole body. It mewed softly.

CROW: And ate them. The end.

Dale and Gadget looked at one another, in horror. Where there's kittens, there's...

TOM: A kindle.

Finally, Gadget saw her, past Dale.

CROW: Her pulse raced as her blood pounded in ways unfamiliar. A blush spread over her features....

At first, Gadget thought it was an optical illusion caused by fear; then she realized the cat was so black her fur drank what little light there was; to see the cat, you had to look where light wasn't.

TOM: A stealth cat.

JOEL: All cats are stealth cats.

Gadget slowly let her gaze move upwards.

TOM: [hums overture to "Also Sprach Zarathustra".]

It was a big beast, ten to fifteen pounds, not the fat weight of a cosseted house cat but the lean muscles of a cat who was fending for herself. Fifteen pounds of hunting cat is big.

JOEL: If you're a mouse.

The cat was sitting on her haunches, and had one paw raised menacingly.

TOM: I'm getting a mental image of one of those ceramic kitties in the Hunan Wok.

JOEL: Oh man... the General Tso's chicken....

CROW: Scallion pancakes.

As Gadget's eyes rested on the cat's head,

CROW: [CAT] Why did you take out your eyes and put them on my head?

the cat opened her mouth; fine, sharp teeth the same white as Widget's fur flashed in the night.

TOM: Ah. The cat's wearing her "Gray" Dentures.

"Dale," Gadget whispered, "Move slowly behind me and don't look around."

ALL: [Snort]

TOM: Yeah, like anyone takes that advice.

Of course, he looked around.

JOEL: Boing!

Dale broke into a sprint.

TOM: Gadget broke into song.
[Singing, to "Flying Dreams" from "Secret of NIMH"]
Whippoorwills, Escadrilles,
Kittens must be fed,
Life's a bitch
when you're protein-rich,
Soon you're dead...

The claws flashed down. Instead of ripping Dale's flesh, the cat snared his shirt and lifted him off the ground.

CROW: How con-veeen-ient!

Arms pinned, Dale and the cat stared at one another. He felt her hot breath on him.

"Nice kitty?" Dale asked hopefully.

JOEL: [DALE] Tic-tac?

Gadget slid the handle on the flame thrower smoothly, holding the weapon steady. A mighty yellow flame, eighteen inches long, roared out of the cigarette lighter.

TOM: For the remainder of this scene, Gadget will be played by Sigourney Weaver. Thank you.

The sudden light illuminated several very startled cats, heretofore invisible. The tip of the flame brushed against the fur of a cat on a garbage can, who made the same yell Goofy makes when falling from a height and leapt away,

TOM: That really doesn't work in text.

JOEL: Nope.

giving the flames no chance to catch. Gadget didn't blink; she kept her eyes, narrow and hard, on the cat holding Dale.

CROW: [GADGET] I know what you're thinking. Did she use 999 lights, or 1000? Well, seeing that this is a high-capacity Cricket....

It got her attention.

JOEL: No duh.

Gadget snarled. "Get away from him, you... you..." She lowered the flame thrower to cover the kittens.

JOEL: A blanket would be more diplomatic, Gadget.

TOM: I'm trying to get a mental image of this, but I just keep seeing Gadget in a bikini on the cover of a direct-to-video movie by Andy Sidaris.

CROW: Hey, put it on the Web.

The cat laughed lightly, twisting her gape-jawed Teeth of Doom into a happy, innocent smile. She put Dale down,

CROW: [CAT] You've got too much cholesterol to be health food.

and for good measure,

TOM: Used a vernier accurate to fifty microns!

patted him on the head while chuckling nervously.

The cats gave them a wide berth as they walked through Cat Alley. A few smiled at them.

"Ain't we gonna eat 'em, Ma?" asked a kitten.

"No, Mughi,"

JOEL: Dirty Pair reference.

TOM: Check.

his mother explained. "Hot food isn't good for you." Cats are good at saving face.

"Uh, Gadget?" Dale asked. "You were just bluffing about the kittens. Like me with Jürgen. Right?"

TOM: Please say yes.

The Blonde Mouse smiled. Dale blanched and had nightmares for weeks.

[Silence.]

TOM: Uhm.

CROW: Well....

JOEL: Uhm.

===

TOM: I'd say something, but I'm just too depressed.

Monty, Chip, and Zipper weren't able to find Gadget and Dale until they spotted Gadget's flame thrower shot.

TOM: [CHIP] Flame thrower.

CROW: [MONTY] Must be Gadget, by g'day.

After they were picked up,

TOM: Picked up? By this story? Don't be crazy.

Monty insisted on leaving the flame thrower behind.

TOM: Where children could find it.

CROW: Vwoosh!

JOEL: AAAugh!

TOM: You killed Kenny!

Gadget had not mentioned she was taking it along. This soon developed into an argument, which

TOM: Is probably out of character, but by now nobody noticed.

Gadget thought she was winning until Dale drew Monty's attention to the lump on her face.

CROW: [MONTY] It's called a nose, Dale. Most people have 'em.

After this, Monty refused to be drawn; he was

JOEL: On strike against the story.

TOM: Good.

too distracted and said nothing harsher than "'Ush, Gadget luv."

CROW: While slapping her around with a bar of soap in a towel.

Gadget felt cheated of a victory when the argument fizzled.

JOEL: Yeah, Gadget's very argumentative.

Monty insisted on taking Gadget straight to her bed when they landed.

JOEL: Don't.

CROW: Too obvious.

Gadget would have put up an argument, but

JOEL: A glimmer of her personality was raised in her subconscious, a memory of a time she knew joy and loved life.

when she tried to stand up out of her seat she found to her surprise that sharp agony flashed through her

TOM: Broken, shattered soul.

back and leg. She dropped into her seat, not sure if she was frightened more by the pain or the sheer surprise of it.

JOEL: Did that parse?

TOM: I didn't try. Joel, please make it stop!

She didn't resist when Monty lifted her into his arms and carried her, or even when he tucked her in.

CROW: Or when his hands moved softly over her ... aw, heck.

"Chip's gone for a doctor, Gadget luv," Monty told her.

JOEL: [MONTY] We're 'aving you committed.

"Then 'e'll drop Dale's tape off at the newspaper.

CROW: [MARSHA BRADY] Dale's gonna be famous!

Uncle Monty's going to fix you something for dinner."

TOM: [MONTY] With some yummy Prozac cookies for desert.

"Thanks, Monty," she hesitated. "Monty," she said sincerely, "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

Monty shrugged. "Gadget, when you get scared or you're in a fight, you do and say things you normally wouldn't.

JOEL: [MONTY] Not that you have in any of the countless times your life's been at risk before.

B'lieve me, I know what it's like. There was this time on Zanzibar--"

TOM: Guys, let me. [MONTY] I was standin' there.

JOEL: Very subtle.

Amazingly, he cut himself off.

JOEL: Saving Gadget the trouble.

"I don't think I need a doctor," she complained.

TOM: Normally, I'd agree, but this being the Nowakverse and all....

"Gadget, your sister didn't tap ya in th' jaw.

JOEL: [MONTY] Like this. [Pretends to smack TOM.]

TOM: [GADGET] Ow! Golly!

She 'it you in the 'ead with a motorized, stainless steel blackjack.

JOEL: [MONTY] Like this. [Pretends to smack TOM.]

TOM: [GADGET] Aieee!!

Jes' 'cause she uses it like a hand don't change that. You ain't your Uncle Monty. You got somethin' fragile in your skull."

She laughed, and gave him a big hug.

CROW: [GADGET] Thank you for acknowledging my mental superiority.

"I love you so much, Monty," she said. He held her lightly, afraid to hurt her. She buried her face in his chest and started crying.

"Aw, Gadget, luv," he said gently. "What's this about?"

"I don't know," she said,

[All sigh.]

TOM: [GADGET] Maybe it's meeting my sister, discovering she's a loon....

CROW: [GADGET] Who's trying to kill my dearest and only friends....

JOEL: [GADGET] And being forced to kill her first.

ALL: [GADGET] Maybe that's what has me all grumpy.

and immediately contradicted herself. "I was just thinking what it would be like if I didn't have you."

TOM: [GADGET] To feel superior to.

"Or didn't know your dad?"

CROW: [GADGET] No, I envy Widget that bit.

"Or didn't know my dad."

"Who you cryin' for, Gadget?"

TOM: [GADGET] Anyone who's reading this.... [TOM breaks down for a moment. JOEL pats him on the back to comfort him.]

He tousled her hair and she grinned, suppressing a flinch when his powerful hands

TOM: Reminded her of those secret visits in her childhood --

came too close to a bump on the back of her head. He smiled at her and walked out. She changed into her nightgown, washed her face, and went back to bed.

CROW: Its single pillow mocking her.

===

"You know the way to Gadget's room, don't you, Doctor?"

CROW: [DOCTOR] Do I ever!

Chip asked. The audio tape was still in the back seat of the Ranger Wing. "I've got to deliver this tape."

TOM: [CHIP] It was due last week, and ten cents a day adds up.

"Sure," Dr. Skinner agreed. She bounced out of the Wing, trying not to look as nauseous as she felt.

TOM: When she recognized which twisted continuity she was inhabiting.

She and Monty exchanged nods as she walked around the huge mouse and went into the tree.

JOEL: I guess that blows your theory, Crow.

CROW: http://www.geocities.com/TelevisionCity/3936/raingold1.html.

TOM: God, I wish we could be reading that instead.

"You'll be comin' right back after you drop that off?" Monty asked, pretending it was a question.

CROW: [MONTY] Yer mum's worried about ya. Yer grades are slippin', you stay out all hours of th' night....

Chip looked up from his preflight check. "I don't think so," he said with a firm, negative shake of his head. "I have work to do."

TOM: Right, he's probably going down to the Acorn Club.

Monty nodded, uncomfortably. He still wasn't entirely ready to admit that maybe Gadget was old enough to form connections different from and perhaps stronger than the ones he had with her.

CROW: Monty's vision is going.

"Well, mate," he said slowly, "I think maybe you should put that off a bit. I think Gadget needs a little help tonight."

TOM: [MONTY] You scored an A in Geography, and she's worried about tomorrow's test.

Chip's face fell blank, confused. "Yes," he said. "I know."

JOEL: [CHIP] But I don't care.

===

Dr. Skinner tapped her patient lightly on her lower back.

"Ouch," Gadget said.

"Did that hurt?" Skinner asked with a smile.

CROW: Doctor Skinner has the bedside manner of a hungry shark.

Skinner was a white lab rat, who had attended a Human medical school. With the help of the Rescue Rangers, she had narrowly escaped being part of a lesson.

[ALL wince.]

CROW: You've heard of darkness before dawn? Welcome to darkness before darkness.

"Just a little. Kind of sharp. How am I?"

CROW: [SKINNER] Just great, honey.

"I think you're a healthy young woman who's been well and truly worked over. But you can stay here if you promise to stay in bed for three days."

CROW: [SKINNER] With me.

"I promise."

TOM: [GADGET] To lower taxes -

"I have spies. First time you leave this room, it's the hospital for you. Understand?"

CROW: [GADGET] Uhm, what about necessities?

Gadget grinned. "Curses."

TOM: Whoa, language!

JOEL: At least she's laughing.

TOM: Only because she's bedridden.

"Ice packs for the swelling, and I'll leave some Tylenol 3 if the pain keeps you from sleeping.

TOM: [SKINNER] Since we're in this continuity, I'll leave a train car full.

I've got to get going - there's been some sort of riot at Fat Cat's Casino." She grinned.

CROW: This doctor really enjoys the pain of others.

"Ever pull rubber cement out of fur?"

"I'll bet it hurts." Gadget looked innocent and solemn.

The doctor grinned. "If you do it right."

CROW: [SKINNER] Ah, the discomfort of patients. Tee hee!

JOEL: It's nice to know that at least Fat Cat's casino has the same HMO plan that the Rangers do. Same doctor, and all.

She shouldered her black bag and left.

A moment later, Dale knocked and came in, carrying a bowl.

TOM: [DALE] It's from Nowak - a big bowl of despair! Drink deep, little mouse.

She smelled vegetable broth. She heaved a sigh of relief.

TOM: Usually, the only thing Dale cooked were Spaghetti-Os.

"Hi, Gadget," Dale said. "Thought you'd like something without cheese."

JOEL: [DALE] It's not like you're a mouse or something.

"Yes, thanks," she said, as he set up a tray. She started eating. At first, she was being polite;

TOM: Then, the monster came out.

after a few bites, she felt ravenous. Dale sat on her bed.

JOEL: What is it with all these men sitting on the beds of unmarried women - I say we boycott this filth!

"Thanks for rescuing me," Dale said.

CROW: [GADGET] I guess I did, didn't I? Shoot.

"It's my job," she winked. "Glad to help. Thanks for stopping the fight."

TOM: [GADGET] It was obvious they had no business being in the same ring.

"I'm glad I'm not Widget."

CROW: [GADGET] Uhm, right, Dale. I'm glad you're not Widget either. So....

"I wish I were," Gadget snapped, spooning up broth angrily.

JOEL: [GADGET] I've always wanted to be a nutcase.

"I don't know what it looked like from the outside, but Widget was taking me apart. If you hadn't stopped it, I'd be a chunky sandwich spread. As it is, I wonder how I kept going."

TOM: [GADGET] And when I look at my life, why I kept going? Sweet oblivion, I embrace thee...

"Adrenaline's funny that way."

JOEL: [DALE] It's the wacky hormone!

Dale paused. "Why are you so angry?"

[Pause.]

TOM: [confused] Wha -?

CROW: Oh, Dale does this every time after listening to Dr. Laura....

Gadget stopped eating. "Dale, she tried to kill us all."

JOEL: Uh, yeah, Dale.

"So have other people," he made a casual gesture. "I never saw you take a flame thrower to Professor Nimnul."

She shrugged,

TOM: [GADGET] That was when I was in character.

and started eating again.

JOEL: The bowl was empty, though.

TOM: That might explain how she keeps her figure.

"Of course, Nimnul's never threatened your father."

Gadget looked up. "My father's dead, Dale."

TOM: [GADGET] I saw to that.

"Exactly," he nodded, pleased.

TOM: The test subject was reacting exactly as Dale's doctorate predicted.

"He's just memories now. Yours, other people's."

TOM: Oh, he's a Kantian Materialist.

CROW: I say he's a Logical Positivist.

JOEL: He's all these things and more.

"Widget doesn't threaten my memories of my father," Gadget muttered.

JOEL: [DALE] Ah, but she does if you have a glimmer of doubt about how she ended up in the river. I think we should continue here next week.

"Agreed," Dale nodded easily. "That brings us back to the start. Why are you so angry?"

TOM: I say she's angry at her sister for refusing to be her sister.

CROW: I say she envies Widget's liberation from bourgeoisie morality.

JOEL: I say her personality's being mangled by a hack.

Gadget shrugged again.

TOM: [GADGET] Look, I'm just not into this self-analysis trip.

"Gadget, you threatened kittens. That's not like you. Where did it come from?"

"I don't know," she said tiredly. "It just came out."

TOM: From the... negaverse!

"You suppose you could send it back?" Dale asked lightly.

JOEL: [GADGET] But I lost the original packing material....

She glared at him. "Good thing it did or you'd be dead," she snarled.

CROW: [DALE] But death is a lover we must all embrace.

"Possibly," Dale agreed. "Isn't that a picture of Widget?" he asked, pointing. "I never noticed it before."

"Where -" Gadget asked, shocked. He was pointing at a mirror. She gritted her teeth. "Get out."

"Gadget, sometimes we hate what we see in ourselves -"

TOM: Oh, I get it. She's identifying herself with Widget and sees her sister as herself giving in to The Dark Side. Thus, she's projecting her own fear of losing self control onto her sister.

JOEL: I like my explanation better.

"Get out!"

Dale walked over to the door obediently. He turned back and nodded, expression innocent. "It's a terrifying likeness," he chirped.

TOM: Get me out of here. Now.

[1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... 5 ... 6 ... SoL]

[TOM SERVO is alone on the main set of the Satellite of Love. He holds a TV remote in his inoperable little hand and watches a TV monitor, turned so the camera can see it. It shows a brief scene from the Rescue Rangers episode "Three Men and a Booby": Gadget meets a dejected Mrs. Booby for the first time, walks up to her, gently takes one of Mrs. Booby's feather-digits in her hand and strokes it tenderly, saying "How can we help you?" with a voice and eyes filled with sympathy. Then the screen rewinds to the beginning of the scene and it replays itself. After the first time the scene has played, a concerned JOEL walks in with CROW. CROW is visibly nervous.]

CROW: [stage whisper] I'm telling you, he just keeps watching this over and over. He's scaring me.

JOEL: Thanks, Crow. Tom, what are you doing?

[short pause as TOM ignores him]

CROW: Bubble Boy needs a cold reboot. Can I do it?

JOEL: Crow - no. Tom, why don't you tell me what's wrong?

TOM: [mechanically, horrified] I... I...

JOEL: [encouraging] That's it, Tommy - talk to me and I'll help it feel better.

TOM: [bewildered] I... just don't see it. I'm trying so hard, but I just don't see it...

JOEL: See what, Tom?

TOM: The angst!

JOEL: [nods] Oh.

CROW: What?

JOEL: It's this fanfic. Tom's having problems with the author's take on Gadget.

TOM: I watch this, and see a gentle angel in mouse form. I just don't... see the festering abyss of Hell!

CROW: Look, Joel, it's really simple. All I have to do is hold down the control, alt and del buttons at the same time, and -

TOM: I mean - how does he look into those eyes and see the rage and hate of a woman who could point a flamethrower at her own sister? I just don't...

JOEL: [tries to laugh it off] Tom, Tom, you're taking this way too seriously. We're talking about someone who gave mice zip guns.

CROW: Yeah! Although that Calvert joke was pretty funny. (Chuckles)

TOM: [laughs] Yeah, I'll go along with you on that. "Calvert."

JOEL: [glances at CROW, puzzled] Huh?

[GYPSY appears on the set, bobbing excitedly.]

GYPSY: Calvert? Richard Basehart?

[CROW turns to GYPSY.]

CROW: No, just a James Calvert joke. [JOEL looks befuddled. CROW continues, sarcastically, to JOEL.] US Navy? Retired Rear Admiral?

GYPSY: [disappointed] Oh.

JOEL: I've never heard of...

GYPSY: I thought everyone's heard of James Calvert.

JOEL: [looks balefully at GYPSY] Uh... right. James Calvert. [Pretends to recognize the reference] But the point, Tom, is that this author is, uh...

CROW: One weird mammajamma.

JOEL: Right. So don't be surprised that his view of the world reflects the darkness of his soul.

TOM: I mean, he keeps drawing parallels between Widget and Gadget and ... well, is the story a metaphor for the hatred people direct at themselves?

JOEL: Oh, I don't think so.

CROW: But I've got to agree with you, Tom, this story really is a bummer.

JOEL: Right. It is that.

CROW: The way they just ... reject love and embrace the hate.

JOEL: Uh...

CROW: [voice choked] I... mean... why can't they just... get along?

JOEL: Crow?

[CROW shudders, and starts weeping. He falls on TOM, who begins to sob.]

JOEL: Guys, guys! It's just one person's distorted view of a gentle and sweet character. He's wrong. That's all.

TOM: But... what if he isn't?

[Pause. The others look uncomfortable. The TV finishes the scene and stops.]

TOM: I mean, what if he's right? What if... [TV brings up a tight close up of Gadget, smiling angelically]... this face is a mask over the raging inferno of Hell?

CROW: The Hell we all carry within us?

TOM: What if families really are like that?

CROW: All we know is what laughing boy over here programmed us with....

[The bots eyeball JOEL suspiciously. JOEL looks worried.]

GYPSY: We could just ask him.

JOEL: Ask who?

[Gizmonics Lab. We see FRANK talking to JOHN, a guy who ideally has glasses, dark curly hair, a mustache, and wears rumpled business casual with a white shirt, but who probably looks a lot like Mike Nelson. JOHN nods periodically and makes entries into a PalmPilot. FRANK is wearing a PalmPilot case on his hip]

JOHN: So none of this is actually documented?

FRANK: Well, Doctor F. believes in maintaining a strong team and keeping his people happy. I've only been here three years, and I'm already making $5.75 an hour.

JOHN: [Looks up from his palmtop.] You're making five dollars and seventy five cents an hour?

[FRANK's chest swells with pride through the next part while JOHN watches in blank disbelief.]

FRANK: Well, John, what with your being new and all, I guess I should tell you a raise is not so much about the money as it is about how it shows how much you're respected and appreciated.

JOHN: I was just thinking that.

(Dr. FORRESTER appears suddenly, in the foreground.)

FORRESTER: Ah, my little lab rats. Our invention exchange was a little late this morning because of a new quality initiative our latest hire's working on.

[FORRESTER folds his arms and goes into lecture mode.]

As you know, objective metrics are the cornerstone of any modern attempt at process improvement.

[FRANK pushes himself in front of JOHN.]

FRANK: So I've been wearing a special time tracking tool on my belt.

[SoL]

JOEL: Gee, that doesn't sound particularly evil.

[GIZMONICS]

FORRESTER: Ah, but this one tells the truth.

[FRANK looks suddenly nervous as JOHN extracts the device from FRANK's belt and looks at the screen, reading with a sadistic glint in his eyes. FORRESTER looks more and more angry as he goes on.]

JOHN: Eating powdered donuts, forty five minutes, ten seconds. Thinking about powdered donuts, two hours, fifteen minutes. Staring blankly into space, one hour, eight minutes. Trying to impress the new guy, three hours even. Thinking about sex, eight seconds.

[SoL]

JOEL: Wow. That is evil.

[GIZMONICS]

FORRESTER: Frank, we have an appointment. [FORRESTER takes FRANK by the ear and tows him away, while FRANK whimpers. JOHN is left alone.]

JOHN: Gypsy, the Doctor's asked me to document some of the Satellite of Love's operations procedures. I was wondering if we could talk about that?

[SoL]

GYPSY: Sure. What would you like to know?

JOEL: [Stage whisper to T&C] Right, let's see if we can get him on our side. Don't let him know he's a weirdo.

TOM: Roger.

[GIZMONICS]

JOHN: What?

[SoL]

JOEL: Nothing. So, John, have you seen the project plan for the experiment I'm in?

[GIZMONICS: JOHN holds a printout. The cover page reads "PROJECT MEDIA MINDCRACK."]

JOHN: Sure. We send you really bad films and fanfics until your will is shattered.

[SoL]

JOEL: [Pause, and continue uncertainly] And... don't you see anything wrong with this?

[GIZMONICS]

[JOHN looks up, angrily.]

JOHN: Of course I do.

[SoL: Hope begins to emerge on the faces of J&TB]

[GIZMONICS]

JOHN: Shattering your will isn't explicitly defined in objective terms. The requirements are too vague.

[SoL]

CROW: [Matter of fact] I hate you.

[JOEL holds CROW's beak shut.]

JOEL: I meant ethically.

[GIZMONICS]

JOHN: [Snort] I'm a veteran of Corporate America. Ethics are irrelevant.

[SoL]

TOM: This brings new insight to your story.

[GIZMONICS]

[JOHN frowns.]

JOHN: They sent you Under the Bridge?

[SoL]

TOM: What gives with this lurid little tale?

CROW: Why'd you inflict it on the world, Dark Dilbert?

[JOEL clamps CROW's mouth shut.]

GYPSY: I guess it's not self-insertion.

[GIZMONICS]

JOHN: No, Gypsy. Basically, writing's been a hobby of mine for a long time, and I wanted a change to write something lighter and more fun than what I usually -

[SoL: Bots scream in unison.]

JOEL: Get thee behind me, Dark One!

[GIZMONICS]

JOHN: [perplexed] What?

[SoL]

[JOEL embraces the sobbing bots.]

[Cut to: GIZMONICS. Dr. FORESTER beams happily into the camera, FRANK at his side. Without a word, they give one another a triumphant hi-five.]

Chapter Sixteen : Hope

[Everyone bursts out laughing.]

TOM: Oh, that's rich!

JOEL: And here we thought Nowak didn't have a sense of humor. Man, that's a riot!

After the Battle of Casino, Jürgen and Widget agreed that

CROW: Daleks just weren't as much fun in real life.

the risk of hanging around was too great. The mere fact the Rangers had a spy

JOEL: Bill Cosby?

TOM: James Bond?

CROW: Mrs. Ploifax?

following them suggested they had found proof Albacore had sunk Minuscule.

TOM: Too bad they didn't rob anyone. Then Widget would really be a one-armed bandit!

Albacore

ALL: Nevermore!

was running at a depth of two hundred feet, below a thermal

CROW: Underwear.

layer just in case they were being hunted. They had left dock at three in the morning, and were now almost one hundred miles from shore. Widget was working on a stuck "tendon" in her left arm.

TOM: Tearing up all those people is dangerous -- people's ligaments, tendons, and muscles get stuck in her arm all the time.

Her ear was bothering her; it was bandaged but it still ached gently.

JOEL: She wondered if the lemon-soaked bandage was the cause.

CROW: I guess the doctor doesn't like her.

TOM: [DOCTOR] This is for all those nightmares from your smiling!

Jürgen knocked at Widget's cabin door.

CROW: Too bad she was in the Engine Room.

"Enter," she said abstractly.

Jürgen stepped in, and his eyes showed surprise.

TOM: [JÜRGEN] Did you know they raised the price on dish soap again?

Widget suddenly realized it was her

CROW: Dress he was wearing.

- instead of her usual wetsuit, she was wearing an undershirt and the covering was off her left arm, showing the stainless steel workings.

TOM: And that's not even counting the arm!

She felt mortification setting in: he was seeing her as the freak she was for the first time.

TOM: Hey, it's a humiliating first impression, but look at the bright side; it's accurate!

Jürgen had never seen her out of the black wetsuit before:

JOEL: And he prayed he never would again.

what he had thought were broad shoulders or even shoulder pads was actually a support harness

CROW: Formally belonging to Ordinary Guy.

for the arm she had built herself.

JOEL: He could tell by the manufacturing date.

She was a bit slimmer and lighter than he had imagined, but

TOM: She still projected evil and hate with ease.

her right arm was surprisingly well muscled; possibly from using it most of the time.

CROW: Ripping out all those spleens of mouthy crewmen was paying off.

"Something jammed in my arm," she explained, weakly.

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Could be that ICBM sticking out of your elbow. You really need to tell me that story sometime.

"Oh," he said, recovering. "May I?"

TOM: [JÜRGEN] Laugh at your disfigurement? Hahahahah!!

She felt her left arm lift of its own accord.

TOM: It's gaining free will! It's the prelude to "The Terminator"!

ALL: ARRRGGGHHH!

She tried to flex her

CROW: Personality, to allow for this sudden "soft" side.

thumb, so he could see the part sticking.

TOM: Oddly enough, though, it was her middle finger that kept flexing....

He watched intently and she suddenly remembered he had been

JOEL: Traumatized as a child from watching moving machinery.

a torpedo mechanic; he was familiar with delicate, complex mechanisms.

TOM: He had no clue how to repair them, unfortunately.

JOEL: He never told her that all the ships he had sank were his own, did he?

"From this angle it looks like it's rubbing against this support member," he said, taking a pen from his pocket

TOM: Rodent-sized pens? Okay, this too nutty. I was ready to believe the mechanical arm bit, but this is too much.

and pointing to a tiny push rod. "Maybe some WD40 would help,

CROW: Hey, yeah -- after a case or so, I know I always feel better!

TOM: Ditto!

or you could try to bend it back this way," demonstrating,

TOM: On her real arm.

as though the pen were a lever.

"That makes sense," she agreed slowly.

JOEL: [WIDGET] So why did you think of it?

He hadn't shown disgust, amusement, or pity; just a casual, low-keyed

CROW: Air of superiority.

technical suggestion, as though she had a locker that squeaked. He knew what she was

TOM: Hell incarnate.

and it didn't change the way he treated her.

CROW: She was still a stupid broad.

JOEL: A stupid broad that still signs his paychecks.

CROW: Oh yeah... maybe not that stupid, then.

When she was younger and didn't understand that love was a sentimental lie,

TOM: So she's Emily Dickenson now?

she might have thanked him. Like she had thanked others, the ones that taught her about life when they were done with her.

TOM: Uh... what?

JOEL: I think it means Widget thanked people who treated her like crud, so now she doesn't thank people that treat her with respect.

TOM: Oh. So she still thanks people that treat her like a freak?

JOEL: I think so, yeah.

CROW: I think "thank" is a euphemism.

JOEL: Crow -

TOM: Joel, it had to be said. "Thank" is a euphemism, everyone!

JOEL: Tom, that's too depressing to think about.

CROW: Your point being?

"What can I do for you?"

JOEL: [WIDGET] Need a family member whacked?

"We're approaching the last waypoint you set.

CROW: No way!

TOM: Yes way!

JOEL: Way cool!

We need to know if you want to turn back to the mainland, or head out to sea."

JOEL: They're already a hundred miles out at sea. Isn't it a little late to be asking?

"What's your opinion?"

CROW: [JÜRGEN] I'm allowed to have one?

"I would consider it a personal favor if you would give permission to

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Let the Bridge game be moved to Tuesdays.

head out to sea."

"Oh." She thought. "Well, okay, but please don't consider it a favor.

JOEL: [WIDGET] I don't do favors for lackeys.

It's only practical. My sister and her friends are on their guard. It might be months before they relax enough for us to strike again."

TOM: Yeah, or at least until another fanfic.

"There is that."

"And," she said, warming to her subject,

JOEL: [WIDGET] Being on a sub full of men for the next few months is like a dream come true for me.

"I guess that in one sense, even that would be hurting her - I mean, waiting for the sword to drop, never knowing when the piper will be paid."

CROW: Never knowing when the story will be over.

TOM: We know the pain. Trust me, we know.

"You could think of it that way," he agreed.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] I'll agree with whatever you say, so long as the checks clear.

"Jürgen," she said curiously. "Why do you follow my orders?

JOEL: Guys go to great lengths when trying to get a date.

One word from you and the crew would toss me out a hatch. You'd have a free hand with Albacore."

TOM: Hey, unlike her, he'd have both hands with the Albacore!

JOEL: Ooooo....

"I was wondering when you'd ask that," he answered casually.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] This is a big day for us!

"Well, first, I did give my word. My word is important to me."

CROW: [rapping] Word!

"And second?"

CROW: [JÜRGEN] There's more?

"And second, from a strictly pragmatic aspect, there's enormous potential in you.

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Your bank account is impressive.

This is the finest ship I have ever had the pleasure of commanding.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Granted, it's the only ship I've commanded, but let's not worry about that.

Whatever you build next, I know I want to be a part of it." He shrugged.

TOM: He wants to be used as the hull frame?

"Thank you."

JOEL: [WIDGET] Here's a crewman's eyeball to show my gratitude.

"There's a third reason, too."

"Which is?"

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Nuts! You called my bluff!

He half smiled. "I don't think it would be best to tell you yet."

TOM: Why shut up now?

"Why not?" Her voice was simply curious, not distrustful.

"Did I ever tell you my worst war story?"

JOEL: You had to ask, Widget....

he asked, apparently changing the subject. "We were being depth charged by a destroyer - but if you ever tell this story to Monty, make it an airplane to flatter him."

TOM: Oh, good idea. She's supposed to have high tea with the Rangers next week, after all. I'm sure she wants to make the guy that left her to drown feel important.

"All right," she agreed, mystified.

JOEL: [WIDGET] I'll humor him; maybe he'll shut up quicker.

"Anyway, we were leaking in the engine room.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] That "spalling" effect turned us into sieves.

TOM: Aspalling. Ha... Uh, get it? Appalling? Never mind.

The electric motors had shorted out. We couldn't move.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] We were in downtown New York at rush hour.

One of the torpedoes had slipped off its rack while being loaded into the torpedo tube. It rolled over both torpedo mechanics.

TOM: [singing] What rolls down the stairs, rolls over in pairs, rolls over your torpedo mechanics?

That left one qualified torpedo mechanic aboard."

"You?"

CROW: [JÜRGEN] No. Let me finish, will you?!

"Me. The torpedo ran wild. The engine started,

TOM: Oh, the ones that shorted out?

the blades started spinning.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] So I sliced up some turkey for a quick sandwich.

The forward torpedo room was filling with steam.

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Good thing I was in the rear, eh?

Worse, this was a classified torpedo designed to self destruct after the engine ran out of fuel."

TOM: Guys, I'm still at a loss for who they were supposed to be fighting.

CROW: They probably weren't. Just running around picking fights with movie sets.

"So you were in a steam filled room,

JOEL: A sauna?

trying to disarm a torpedo in the ten minutes or so you had while the engine ran and depth charges exploded all around."

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Yes yes, now shut up and listen -- you're breaking the mood!

"Exactly," Jürgen nodded. "I was sitting next to a warhead with enormous potential energy,

JOEL: Hey, he just told Widget the same thing. I smell another of those wacky metaphors coming up!

CROW: So that's what stinks about this.

blinded by steam, working as quickly as I could and hoping I wouldn't do the wrong thing and pull the wrong wire and make it explode. Because

CROW: [JÜRGEN] The damage would come out of my paycheck!

the saddest part is, I don't think

JOEL: No kidding.

the torpedo wanted to explode where it was, not really. But it was so badly damaged, it couldn't tell friends from enemies and just might go off by mistake."

TOM: What? We're suppose to believe that Jürgen has a "Commune with torpedo" power?

He shrugged. "Mistakes happen, you know.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] My mom always told me that when I asked where I came from.

There's more bad luck in the world than there is evil." He waited, as though finished.

TOM: [JÜRGEN] Duh, I always forget the end part.

"And the point to your story?"

CROW: Damned if I know.

she asked, faintly.

JOEL: Fighting off the sleep that his incessant droning had forced upon her.

"Be very careful around warheads,"

JOEL: Oh, I get it! It's a message from the National Board of Safety regarding the safe use of wartime devices!

he said promptly. Then added, "No matter how you feel about them."

JOEL: [WIDGET] Whatever; skip the moral and get the end. Did you disarm the stupid torpedo or not?

TOM: [JÜRGEN] No, it blew up and killed me.

CROW: Wishful thinking.

"And... how do you, uh, feel about warheads?"

TOM: What is this? The Wendy's survey?

"I was married during the war. She died in a bomber raid."

"I'm sorry."

JOEL: [WIDGET] Now answer my question; do you like warheads or not?

"Why?"

CROW: He's left field.

Jürgen shrugged. "I heard you say love is a word people use to get what they want."

TOM: Well, it's true.

"I didn't mean that you..." she said quickly. "I meant that..." she trailed off.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Look, it's complicated. Can we get back to something simple, like quantum equations and maximum torque ratios?

"That it's true when someone uses it about you?" Jürgen asked.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] But we'll get into that next session. Pay the receptionist on the way out, please.

JOEL: Too bad Dale isn't here; he'd sort through her phobias in a snap.

Widget looked down at her arm. "Thank you, Jürgen. You had best speak to the navigator."

JOEL: [WIDGET] I think he likes you.

"Permission to speak plainly, gnädigens Fraulein."

CROW: [WIDGET] Call me that again, and I'll give you the voice of Minnie Mouse....

TOM: I think it means something like "Highly esteemed unmarried woman." Except it should be "Fräulein."

CROW: [disappointed] Oh.

She blinked. "Of course," she said automatically.

TOM: Having no trace of her established personality left.

He stood very stiff, not awkward, but

CROW: Emotionally dead?

military.

CROW: Same thing.

Not looking at her directly. "You have reason to believe what you said. I'm not denying it.

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] I can't handle the truth!

But if you ever decide you're ready, I would like the honor of proving

CROW: [JÜRGEN] The Spice Girls make some fun music.

it isn't always true."

"Th - thank you, Jürgen. You had best speak to the navigator." Her heart was pounding so hard she could hear it.

TOM: Time to watch her salt intake, eh?

Jürgen nodded politely. "Ma'am," He about-faced, and left her stateroom.

CROW: I thought he was in her cabin?

TOM: The rooms in this sub seem to bi-locate, don't they?

Widget took a small can of WD40 out of her dresser.

JOEL: Time for the junkie to get her fix.

Her hand was shaking so badly she couldn't use it.

JOEL: See?

She gave up, covered her eyes. Her face and ears were so hot they seemed to be burning.

TOM: Standing in front of a sunlamp will do that, yeah.

She was so happy it hurt.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Argh! Happiness! It's the poison in my blood! The cholesterol in my arteries! Help! I need a despair transfusion!

TOM: [WIDGET] I'm happy. Given the way things work in the Nowakverse, that means I'm going to die. Thank you, God!

Chapter Seventeen : Where the Socks Go

CROW: When they've been bad in life.

Shiro followed the Gray Mouse at a respectful distance.

TOM: Oh, we're back to the Chromatically-Challenged Mouse, now?

He was a rat

CROW: 'Nuff said.

who had worked for several evil megalomaniacs before, but she was the only one who

CROW: Looked good in a swimsuit.

was willing to come back to the engine room and talk about improvements to her own design. It had been several days since the

TOM: Failure.

incident at Trellis Island, and the Gray Mouse probably wanted to put

JOEL: On a puppet show for the kiddies.

aside thoughts of temporary setbacks with technical chatter.

TOM: And making the occasional crewman walk the plank.

Shiro was

JOEL: The first to go.

only too happy to oblige her. Courtesy to one's boss aside, she was the only female on board, for all that he was careful to keep his behavior around her perfectly correct.

CROW: He's going to ask her out, you know it.

"Yes, I served on that one," he said with a smile and nod to her question.

TOM: Which obviously wasn't important enough for us to hear.

"That huge drill on front didn't really work out. The first time we used it on something harder than mud, it stopped cold and started spinning the whole ship around in the opposite direction.

CROW: Hey! They're talking about "Drill Sergeant" from Wheeled Warriors!

TOM: I say it's Atragon.

CROW: Drill Sergeant!

TOM: ATRAGON!

JOEL: Guys, maybe it was the Jet Mole from Thunderbirds.

TOM: Okay.

CROW: (whispers) Drill Sergeant.

Never did get it to work right. Now this is what I wanted to ask you about,"

JOEL: [SHIRO] Someone keeps writing "The Gray Mouse is actually white" down here. Is it true?

he said, coming to a stop before the heavily sealed door to the engine room.

JOEL: [SHIRO] Why do we need a basement on a sub?

Albacore used a version of the power generation system developed by the evil Professor Nimnul.

TOM: Not to be confused with the good Professor Nimnul, of course.

While he had powered his lighting bolt throwing machine by kidnapping all the cats in the city and feeding them into a machine that rubbed them,

CROW: The wrong way.

the Gray Mouse's version used a wool sweater and flannel shirt tumbling together in a drier.

TOM: Rodent-sized? Human-sized? You decide!

The sparks flashing between the two garments allowed Albacore to cruise as fast as twenty five knots underwater,

JOEL: Uh, how did they harness the energy in the sparks?

TOM: Nowak Principle, Joel. Learn it, live it, love it.

and they carried enough laundry aboard to circumnavigate the globe four times without refueling.

CROW: Shouldn't that be "reloading"?

"Most of the ship's electronics are

TOM: Worthless Casio crap.

right behind the main generator," Shiro explained.

JOEL: [WIDGET] I built this sub. Don't patronize me about the layout.

"They're well insulated, and we have the backup bay up near the bow, but it might be safer to move these further away."

TOM: What? Now?

"Unfortunately, the Nimnul Effect which makes this engine practical rules that out. Nimnul was able to prove that the power of static electricity is immeasurably increased when there is delicate electronic circuitry nearby." The Gray mouse shrugged, hands out and palms up.

JOEL: Is she asking for forgiveness?

TOM: From who? Nowak? He's probably egging her on.

"I see. I wasn't really aware of the theory behind it.

CROW: [SHIRO] I'm just a cook, after all.

Although we're not as fast as a big nuclear sub, at least we can't have a nuclear accident

CROW: [SHIRO] We had nuclear diapers installed.

- although I've noticed our laundry tends to be clingy."

JOEL: Use some Bounce next time, Einstein.

"Static cling is the least of our dangers," the Gray Mouse intoned. "You see, what Nimnul doesn't realize, is that each spark is a small gateway to an alternate dimension.

TOM: Uh oh. I think the "goofy meter" just jumped a few notches....

Usually that gap only permits energy to pass through to this universe;

CROW: Assuming it has exact change.

energy we can use. Otherwise, it would violate conservation of energy.

TOM: And we mustn't break the laws of nature without Nowak's blessing, now, must we?

But sometimes, a gap can open large enough for a physical object to pass through."

"You mean -" gasped Shiro.

JOEL: [SHIRO] I don't have a last name?!

"Yes, Shiro-san.

CROW: That had better not be a precursor to something Anime popping up....

That's where the socks go."

A particularly strong flash highlighted her profile in blue.

TOM: Static electricity. The poor man's lightning bolt.

JOEL: Ed Wood would be proud.

They stood in silence for a moment.

CROW: Having forgotten their lines.

It could have been pleasant, except that

TOM: Widget shoved Shiro into the drier and slammed the door shut.

with the sudden quiet they both heard from behind them, in a lowered voice, "-think she's one of those lab mice-" before cutting off.

JOEL: So was that a reference to Pinky and the Brain, or "The Secret of NIMH"?

TOM: Let's not find out.

Widget pretended to pay attention to the sparks in the Nimnul reactor,

CROW: Purdy colors!

while Shiro turned to give his subordinate a short lesson in The Pecking Order.

JOEL: [SHIRO] I'll be asking questions after the lesson, so pay attention.

Shiro gasped in shock, which made Widget spin to see what he was responding to. A young mole named Andy realized he had been overheard,

TOM: Talking to who? Nobody else is around.

JOEL: Casper.

and was taking a reflexive step backwards. Into part of the steering gear. Which was moving.

Widget took a flying leap

TOM: I wish this fanfic would.

across the room as Andy's foot was pulled between two large gears.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Want to see my sprocket collection?

Andy started to scream as the gears began to pinch the Achilles tendon in the back of his ankle. Widget came to a stop next to him.

JOEL: Pointed and laughed...

CROW: [WIDGET] Hurts, doesn't it? Suffer.

She knew she could never pull Andy out from between the two metal gears, so without hesitating she

TOM: Shot him.

wedged her left arm between two small ones.

JOEL: Between two small arms?

This gave her a considerable mechanical advantage.

CROW: Now two people were caught in the gears!

The steering assembly stopped moving. Andy's foot was still caught, but it was not being pulled deeper in.

Shiro was at an intercom on the far wall. He pressed a button marked with a red cross.

TOM: [SHIRO] Hello? Switzerland?

"Station three-nine, we have a crewman with his foot trapped in machinery." Widget was next to another intercom;

TOM: Which just happened to be within easy reach of her trapped arm.

she pressed a button marked "Bridge."

JOEL: Between the "Poker" and "Go Fish" buttons.

"Hold rudder steady," she ordered. "Someone's stuck in the transmission gears." She didn't bother to identify herself - she was the only female aboard.

TOM: I think we've established that by now.

CROW: I'm starting to wonder if Widget admired Smurfette as a child....

JOEL: It might explain why she's been hit on more often than Gadget.

"Hold rudder steady, aye," came Jürgen's immediate response from the bridge.

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] What's a rudder, by the way?

The sharp, explosive sounds of compressed air blowing

CROW: More flatulence jokes?

TOM: Hot air? Blowing? That's pretty much what's happening, all right.

water out of the ballast tanks filled the room, then the sound of a change in speed.

TOM: [grinding gear noises]

JOEL: No, no, clutch, shift, release clutch slowly....

"Standard" to "Reverse Emergency." Pressure against her feet showed that the Albacore was rising sharply.

Shiro and Widget looked at one another steadily.

JOEL: Time for their duet.

Boats in mid ocean didn't simply move their rudder on a whim. Widget had hoped they had reached a waypoint, but it was now obvious they hadn't. They were trying to avoid something. Since they couldn't use the rudder to go around it, Jürgen was now trying to go up above it.

CROW: That's... important to know. I guess. Maybe.

Shiro watched while the Gray Mouse tried to pull her arm out of where she had wedged it.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Oh no, don't offer to help. Really. I'm fine.

Her arm didn't move.

CROW: Big surprise, as how she had wedged it into the gears!

He flinched, but she didn't, as she threw all her weight against her left arm, popping it out from between the gears.

TOM: [WIDGET] Wait. That was my right arm. AAARRGGGGHHH!

Albacore didn't have a doctor aboard.

CROW: Sounds like the start of a poem.

Instead, they had a paramedic, or "Pharmacist's Mate."

JOEL: He's married to a pharmacist? That hardly qualifies him for medical duty.

He was a hamster named McKyle, who came skittering into the engineering room, holding a bag of equipment.

CROW: Wrenches. Hammers. Saws. The normal stuff.

He dropped down next to Andy and started examining his foot.

CROW: [MCKYLE] Doesn't look too bad.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Glad your foot is okay. Now you want to look at Andy's?

"I don't think the bone's crushed,"

TOM: [MCKYLE] But I can fix that.

he said. "The pressure of the gears is keeping him from bleeding much, but when we get his foot out,

TOM: [MCKYLE] Boy, it'll be like Old Faithful erupting!

I can control the bleeding."

CROW: He has a remote for it?

Widget nodded and hit the "Bridge" button on the intercom. "Jürgen, please count to ten and then give me rudder amidships. Count to ten again, and if I don't call you, you may resume rudder control."

"Understood," Jürgen said briefly.

JOEL: [JÜRGEN] Except for that counting part, but I'll wing it.

Andy was tensing up.

CROW: [ANDY] Boy, am I going get it for screwing up the boss's sub.

"Andy," Widget said in her softest voice

TOM: Which was as soft as two bricks grinding together.

and taking his hand, "look at me."

JOEL: [WIDGET] Have you washed your face today, young man?

As the rudder gear reversed and popped his foot back out, Andy screamed and gripped her hand so hard it felt like he would crush it.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Watch it! I don't have a spare for this one!

McKyle got to work on his foot; the smell of Andy's blood filled the room.

JOEL: Oh, yeah, that's something we all needed to know.

CROW: I don't feel so good, Joel....

"You okay?" Widget asked him.

He grinned through tears.

TOM: [ANDY] Hell, no! I had my foot crushed, you freak!

"Yes, ma'am."

She laughed

JOEL: [WIDGET] Oh, I just remembered this funny Ziggy cartoon!

and patted his hand before standing up.

TOM: So I guess the point of this scene is that even though Widget wants to give her sister the memory of killing her own friends, she's a considerate employer.

JOEL: Pretty much.

"We need guards on those gears,"

JOEL: She wants to put more of the crew on the gears? Wouldn't that just make more maimed people?

TOM: She's looking to make more like her.

CROW: Collect the whole set!

Widget said to Shiro. "I'll do a sketch tonight,

JOEL: [WIDGET] Stop by tomorrow and we'll set about fitting you for that dress.

we can discuss it tomorrow morning."

"Yes, ma'am," Shiro said. "Perhaps you should have your arm looked at?"

TOM: Don't people stare at it enough already?

McKyle looked up. Widget touched her metal arm. "No," she said finally. "I'll take care of it myself."

JOEL: [WIDGET] The warranty expired last month.

"Doesn't it hurt, ma'am?" Shiro asked, worried.

"Of course it hurts," she snapped back.

TOM: What? She patched nerve endings into it?

CROW: Name something in this fanfic that doesn't hurt.

JOEL: Uhm, the spelling and grammar.

TOM: "Pelagic."

JOEL: "Accepting the Balsa Waffle for the most obscure grammar flame -"

===

JOEL: [chanting] Give me an equal sign! Now another! Now another! What's that spell?

BOTS: Scene change! [cheering]

The obstacle had been a ballistic missile submarine, very silent, probably American or British.

CROW: Maybe Paraguayan.

Although a hard collision was unlikely, Jürgen had been steering to avoid hitting the

JOEL: Next bout with depression.

enormous, slowly drifting warship's bow wave. Heading for the surface had made noise, and the skittish leviathan,

TOM: That's a strange combo.

perhaps thinking Albacore was a more distant Human sized vessel, had plunged gently for the depths,

TOM: And by some tremendous miscalculation, plowed into the ocean's floor, its hull splitting like an eggshell.

missing the rodent sub by a considerable margin. The Gray Mouse shook her head.

CROW: She had been hoping for a collision. Most of the crew would have died, and she needed the laughs.

She had no idea if submarines carried weapons able to attack the torpedo-sized Albacore, and she had no desire to find out.

JOEL: I think a torpedo would do nicely. Doesn't even need to be armed.

TOM: And Widget knows all about unarmed combat, right? Hah!

She had fixed her left arm and was starting to sketch a guard for the steering gears.

CROW: [WIDGET] He should have broad shoulders, some blonde hair. Crew cut, I think. Definitely younger than that fossil Jürgen....

She looked at the watch that hung on her wall: it was three PM. Designing the guard was more difficult than it sounded,

TOM: Body systems were the hardest things to build.

because the guard had to be firmly fixed to the floor,

JOEL: [english accent] Nail that man's foot to the deck.

yet easy to remove

TOM: Whack 'em. Whack 'em good.

for repair work. She also wanted to design the guard in such a way that

CROW: He'd be available for dancing on Mondays.

it could also cover other exposed gears throughout Albacore. That way, their machine shop would only have one pattern to repeat, and

CROW: It would match the wallpaper.

they could keep anyone from stumbling into or catching their fingers in the other gears running the control surfaces of the submarine. Her pencil rolled off the table.

JOEL: Most drafting tables are slanted, yes.

She frowned and looked at the three dials next to the watch:

TOM: [WIDGET] I need to get some Dove soap. It's easier on my skin.

Albacore's heading,

CROW: Right for little Timmy! Who can save him?!

speed, and depth. They had gone from 2/3 speed to Full speed, on the surface, and the direction they were moving had changed by almost ninety degrees.

TOM: Stay with us, reader. Consider this penance.

The air compressors wouldn't have enough power to run at Full speed, so they weren't storing compressed air to replace what they had expended earlier. Albacore did not run well on the surface;

CROW: Hell, it just didn't run well at all. No legs does that.

just about the only reasons she needed to surface in mid ocean was to replenish compressed air, use the Iridium satellite telephone link, or get a navigation fix via the Global Positioning System.

JOEL: Or go shopping at the clearance sales.

TOM: Yeah, no more paying full price -- the last dining room set she got like that cost her an arm and a leg!

CROW: Tom's making a lot of amputation jokes. He's -

JOEL: Going out on a limb.

CROW: [angry] Darnit, Joel, I wanted to say it!

So, she was not surprised when someone knocked on the door to her cabin.

CROW: They always did this when she was in the Engine room.

JOEL: [maid] Turndown service!

"Come in," she said.

Jürgen and McKyle stepped inside, and closed the door behind them. She looked up, wondering what would bring them both in. "Andy has a problem?" she guessed.

TOM: You mean "another" problem.

CROW: Andy ... has a problem.

[JOEL and TOM start to scat-sing cymbals played with a brush.]

CROW: He wasn't careful on shore leave, and now he's paying the price.

"Yes, ma'am. Andy's foot needs surgery," McKyle said,

JOEL: [MCKYLE] I brought it with me. See?

sitting on her bunk, since Widget was in the only chair.

CROW: He could always sit in her lap.

TOM: He could always have his lungs torn through his snout.

CROW: Point.

"The Achilles tendon is detached and he won't be able to use his foot until

JOEL: [MCKYLE] I glue it back on.

a hospital on shore operates.

CROW: Doesn't have to be on Andy. Just as long as they operate. It's a karmic thing.

Worse, he's allergic to the antibiotic I gave him."

"Aren't we heading for shore?"

TOM: [JÜRGEN] But we just got here!

"Andy doesn't have enough time," Jürgen explained. "We need to call for an airplane to pick him up and fly him to a hospital."

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Can we use your phone? The payphone's broke.

"Well, it's always a little embarrassing when a criminal mastermind has to call for an ambulance," Widget said shrugging, "but it's justifiable in this case. Thanks for asking me first."

JOEL: She's not a criminal mastermind, though. Her deathtrap failed miserably, her plan of revenge went sour, and her trick with the "iceberg" was exposed.

TOM: She's got an ego problem ever since Jürgen asked her out.

CROW: Widget ... has a problem.

JOEL: Not again.

CROW: Sorry.

Jürgen hesitated. "Ma'am, this might be ... very embarrassing."

CROW: Hey - maybe she does have a problem!

"Why?" she asked, blinking her pink eyes.

CROW: Not her other set of eyes?

She Got It.

TOM: [WIDGET] Capitalization Is The Wave Of the Future.

As an albino, it was physically impossible for her to get more pale than she was.

TOM: And at long last, The Gray Mouse is actually white.

"Oh, no. Please don't tell me that -"

CROW: Howard Stern is playing Scarecrow in the next Batman movie!

"The Rescue Rangers are

JOEL: Tickled pink they haven't been in this section.

the only organization in range with a vertical takeoff aircraft able to reach us and return." Jürgen and Widget said simultaneously.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Well, not really, but they're the only ones that would make it dramatically ironic.

"Oh, no," Widget said. "No, no, no. Oh, spit!" she yelled, tossing her Ticonderoga #2 clear across the cabin to a cork bulletin board where it embedded itself point first.

TOM: [JÜRGEN] You're cute when you're angry.

McKyle whimpered softly. It had missed him by a fly's whisker.

CROW: Flies have whiskers?

JOEL: Ask... uhm, you know. The one guy... ah nuts, I don't remember.

"How can I possibly ask them for a favor when they're the objects of my vengeance?! It simply isn't done!"

JOEL: I thought Gadget was the only one she really had a beef against.

CROW: Hey, maybe she really is Ivana!

"Ma'am, I'll handle it," Jürgen assured her. "They're usually happy to

TOM: Laugh at another's plight.

do something like this."

"So they can gloat!

CROW: Wouldn't you?

Fine. Just don't mention this to me again." She rubbed her temples. Her migraine was coming back.

JOEL: Did it have a good trip?

"Thank you, Widget." Jürgen looked at McKyle, as though encouraging him to speak.

TOM: Speak, McKyle, speak. Good seadog.

"Ma'am," McKyle said, his voice choked, as though his mouth and throat were dry. "Andy is very ill. He's delirious."

JOEL: [MCKYLE] He thinks this is the best of all possible fanfic worlds.

"Mr. McKyle, I appreciate your concern, but we're doing everything possible to get Andy to a hospital as soon as we can."

CROW: They're going to fire him out of a torpedo tube?

To McKyle's grief, she started tinkering with another pencil.

TOM: [MCKYLE] Not wooden objects! No! Evil!

Like most engineers, she kept a large number of them.

JOEL: One for every person she killed.

Sharp, too.

"He's been asking for his mother, ma'am."

CROW: [MCKYLE] Or calling people mothers, we're not sure. He mumbles.

"Mr. McKyle, are you asking me to come down to sickbay to hold his hand?"

TOM: [singing] I want to hold your hand....

her voice was sharp and angry.

"Yes ma'am," McKyle gulped. "I am asking you to come down to sickbay and hold his hand."

TOM: [singing] Hold... his... hand....

CROW: Hold your Hootie impression, Tom, we gotta go.

[Door sequence run in reverse.]

[SoL. JOEL and the BOTS are at the main counter.]

TOM: So, Nowak decided to spare us all the technobabble of Widget rebuilding her mechanical arm? Is anyone else surprised by this?

JOEL: Well, not really, but I think if she's rebuilding it, she could at least make it more creative.

CROW: How do you mean that, Joel?

JOEL: Okay, well, we all know that her mechanical arm is fluid enough to fool most people, right? Well, I think that she should exercise some creativity and make some more interesting modifications. Not only will she feel better about herself, but maybe some honest cartoon flavor will finally be part of this fanfic.

TOM: Yeah, it's something like a technical manual right now, only with mice. Maybe if she added in some high-tech weapon, like a missile launcher or a flamethrower?

CROW: Yeah right, next thing you know she'll have a fleet of a hundred rodent-sized fighter planes hidden under the tree. Personally, I say she should take a clue from the other famous Gadget, and add in all sorts of wacky do-dads that never work right.

JOEL: Oh, come on you guys, that's not what I mean. I was thinking more along the lines of like maybe a stereo system, so she would never be without her "Evil Genius" mood music.

TOM: Oh, I see what you mean, Joel! How about a special matter-generating glove compartment with a "pork" setting, so she'll never run out of that mouse-sized bacon she needs?

CROW: Or she could hook up a special WD40 IV to her arm, and an odometer so she'll always know when it's time for an oil change!

TOM: How about a cable modem, so she can zip through downloads of all those "Angst Advocate" e-mails?

CROW: Or fireworks display, so she can impress the crew after making the latest slacker walk the plank?

JOEL: Now you've got it. I've always been partial to those electronic planners, you know. That way she can keep track of all her family and friends, and schedule them in for a grisly murder as needed.

TOM: Good idea, Joel. I mean she needs to keep track of Gadget, Chip, Monterey Jack, and Dale.

JOEL: You're forgetting someone.

TOM: Lahwhiney? She was never Gadget's sister in the series.

JOEL: No, not her.

CROW: Geegaw? He's already dead, though.

JOEL: No guys, Zipper.

[Awkward silence.]

BOTS: Who?

JOEL: Oh, come on guys, don't tell me you forgot already. Remember that project we did a little while ago, when we all tried to show new ways to make Zipper more recognizable?

TOM: What? No, should we?

CROW: I think the fanfic has gotten to you, Joel.

TOM: Yeah, buddy, the weight of angst broke through your benevolent exterior, I'm afraid.

JOEL: Guys, come on! Tom, you suggested an evil twin brother named Velcro, remember?

TOM: Well, actually, it does remind me of something, I think.

JOEL: And Crow, you had the idea of having him killed off in various ways each show, remember that?

CROW: Oh, wait, yeah... oh yeah, Zipper! I remember now!

TOM: That's right, that little guy! He really needs a better P.R. agent, eh Joel?

JOEL: Who does?

CROW: Well, Zipper.

JOEL: Who?

[TOM and CROW exchange worried looks as the commercial sign flashes.]

Chapter Eighteen : A Moral Dilemma or Two

TOM: Uh-oh.

The phone rang.

TOM: The Rangers had a phone installed?

JOEL: [makes phone noise] Remember?

CROW: Don't remind us.

Monty picked it up,

CROW: Monty really is that desperate.

straining to listen over the roar of the TV, which was showing one of Dale's monster films.

TOM: Gadget had been monitoring Dale's mind as part of an experiment.

"'Ello, Rescue Rangers," he said. "Jürgen? ...

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Sorry about trying to kill you. Anyway -

Well, how bad is 'e? ...

CROW: [JÜRGEN] He's saying he wants to live.

TOM: [MONTY] Ah. Delirious.

Roight. Wait, let me get this down.

TOM: [MONTY] I can never remember recipes.

Your GPS fix is 30.319 north, 67.816 west, course 265, an' yer makin' 20 knots.

TOM: [MONTY] You'll be gettin' your merit badge in a blink.

'Scuse me one moment." Chip, Dale and Zipper were staring at him.

CROW: [CHIP] When did we get a phone installed?

"Guys, we got what you'd call a moral dilemma."

TOM: [MONTY] But I'd call it - an opportunity t' settle scores.

"A mayday from someone who was trying to kill us last week?" Chip sighed deeply.

JOEL: [CHIP] Plot Contrivance # 212 - Nowak, you disappoint me.

"We can't really say no,

CROW: [DALE] Sure we can!

ALL: No!

but I don't want to go charging into this.

JOEL: [CHIP] We'll pay cash or do without.

Where's Gadget?"

"She's sitting over-" Dale started, pointing at an empty chair.

CROW: [DALE] She's... invisible! Must be wearing a diaper.

The mail box they used as a hangar door opened with a clang.

"She's charging into this," Chip snapped, vaulting off the chair.

JOEL: [CHIP] And she has my card!

Monty was frozen.

TOM: Mr. Freeze!

He dropped the phone and sprinted after Chip.

CROW: [CHIP] Big sale on cheese!

Dale picked up the phone. "Captain Jürgen? Dale here. Look,

CROW: [DALE] Do you have any idea when we got a phone? We're stumped.

we're having a little conference ... would you mind if we called you back?"

CROW: [DALE] No? You're "Back". Ha ha. Gets 'em every time.

A few moments later, Dale sauntered into the hangar. He carried a bowl of popcorn under one arm, and settled in to observe the conversation.

TOM: He knew the anger would soon turn to violence, and he wanted to watch.

"She built a WHAT?!" Chip screamed at Monty.

"'Oming torpedo," Monty repeated himself.

CROW: [CHIP] Thank goodness. I thought you said "homing torpedo".

"And you didn't tell us?"

"Well, I thought she was ... jest keepin' busy," Monty said lamely.

TOM: You know, even for Monty --

"Monty," Chip said quietly, "People write fan fiction to keep busy.

CROW: Or to inflict pain on others.

They do not build torpedoes to keep busy."

"Gadget would," Dale interjected.

Monty nodded. "You gotta admit 'e's right. Gadget would."

TOM: Gadget would admit Dale's right?

Chip took in a sharp breath. "I concede the point."

JOEL: Characterization. How did that get in there?

Gliding on velvet soft wings, Foxglove, a pretty young bat who had first met the Rangers when she was a evil witch's familiar,

TOM: In a tale of betrayal and redemption not unlike Crime and Punishment --

CROW: Stop it.

TOM: Make me.

swooped down to the tallest oak tree in the park, alighting on the landing strip.

JOEL: [FOXGLOVE] It's a good thing oak trees grow landing strips.

Her sensitive hearing

CROW: Was so depressed by the story so far it had left her, leaving her to starve.

had picked up the argument between Chip and Monty some distance off, and since she was up early anyway, she thought she would see what was going on.

JOEL: Watching your friends argue is fun!

Monty and Chip were arguing violently, while Dale sat and munched popcorn.

TOM: Years of TV had turned Dale's soul into a twisted and passive lump.

"Hi, honey," she said and sat next to him, helping herself to a kernel of Dale's snack. Foxglove was never shy about the fact she considered Dale both tasty and eligible.

JOEL: [FOXGLOVE] I'm naughty, you know.

She finished her popcorn in two bites and took a second kernel.

CROW: Red hot popcorn-chompin' action!

"Afternoon, Foxy."

"What's going on?"

JOEL: Oh my God... recap incoming!

[ALL duck for cover.]

"Well, Gadget's taken the Ranger Wing to respond to a mayday. Crewmole on a submarine needs to be taken to a hospital."

[TOM reappears.]

TOM: False alarm, guys.

"And she went alone?"

[CROW pops up.]

CROW: [DALE] She didn't want to inflict the climax on her friends.

"Yep. It's almost certainly a trap, because the sub's owned by an evil megalomaniac who just tried to kill us."

TOM: Joel, it's safe. This recap really isn't that bad.

JOEL: [from cover] No, I'll just wait until it's over.

Foxglove started.

CROW: But her battery was dead.

"And she went out alone so she wouldn't endanger any of you? That's so noble."

TOM: No, Joel, really. He's got a character who doesn't know what happened asking leading questions. It's not like a six-page monologue.

Dale swallowed popcorn. "Well, maybe not, because she brought along this torpedo she built."

JOEL: I know this writer, and I fear him.

Foxglove blinked. "Gadget's going to sink a submarine that just gave a distress call?"

"It looks that way," Dale agreed.

CROW: [FOXGLOVE] Isn't that, like, bad?

"Isn't that a violation of the Geneva Convention?" Foxglove asked. She wasn't sure how she felt about her blonde mouse friend committing a war crime.

TOM: I'd feel good, because it would make me shine by comparison. Kind of like how Crow makes me look smarter.

CROW: Hey!

Dale lifted a single finger and hastened to choke down a mouthful of popcorn. "Technically, no," he explained.

[TOM and CROW vibrate madly.]

BOTS: AAAAAAAUGH!!

"While the Geneva Convention outlaws arming and attacking rescue vehicles, it goes on to specify that the owners of those vehicles must mark them clearly with one of five recognized symbols, the most famous of which is a red cross on a white background."

JOEL: What happened?

TOM: NOWAK'S EXPLAINING SOMETHING!

JOEL: GET DOWN HERE BEFORE IT'S --

"And the Rescue Rangers logo is not one of these symbols.

[Smoke begins to pour out of TOM's head. CROW dives for cover.]

Still, that's a little ruthless for her,

TOM: [recovering] No duh.

isn't it? Who's aboard the sub?" Foxglove asked, wondering who could spark such fury in Gadget.

[JOEL pops back up.]

JOEL: You okay, Tommy?

"Her twin sister, Widget."

TOM: Oh, sure. It got close there for a moment, but my keen mind prevailed.

Waboom.

CROW: [pops up] Was that Tom?

JOEL: No.

CROW: [disappointed] Oh.

JOEL: Now we have to riff on a "Waboom".

ALL: MONTY!

"Gadget has a twin sister?"

CROW: [FOXGLOVE] Is she seeing anybody?

"She didn't know until last week. Monty dropped Widget into the river when she was a baby."

TOM: [DALE] He's kind of goofy that way.

"He what?"

"It was an accident," Dale shrugged. "Stuff happens."

TOM: [DALE] Especially when I'm around.

"So what are you doing?"

TOM: [DALE] Recap. Why?

"Chip is blaming Monty for not telling us about the torpedo. Monty's yelling at Chip for spending all his time recently interviewing cats. Zipper

CROW: Who?

is looking disgusted,

JOEL: Along with the audience.

and I'm explaining this all to you."

"I mean, something productive." Her voice was a little harsh.

TOM: Even Foxglove is grumpy?

JOEL: The Nowakverse has hardened her.

Dale shrugged again. "Gadget took the Wing, which is faster than the Ranger Plane, which has been cut in half and is at the bottom of the bay.

TOM: That would slow it down, yes.

Zipper can't catch up to the Wing, and neither can you.

CROW: [DALE] So there!

If we call Widget on the sub to warn her about Gadget, Widget will shoot her down. And, of course, if it is a trap, then Gadget's justified in sinking the sub. If it isn't a trap, things get murky. The way I see it, we have a

TOM: [DALE] Few minutes to decide before "Reboot" comes on.

moral dilemma."

"I'm sorry," Foxglove said. "I picked a really bad day to drop in, huh?"

Dale shook his head. "About normal, I guess."

JOEL: Now I'm getting depressed.

Chapter Nineteen : Chip & Dale Talk About Munitions

[Stunned silence.]

JOEL: Talk about what?

TOM: Talk about What?

CROW: Talk about WHAT?!

Dale got up. Somebody had to derail the speeding train of acrimony, and Foxglove had shamed him into it, even though it seemed like trying to stop a horse by blocking it, which is almost guaranteed to fail when you're a chipmunk.

TOM: But it was beginning to seem like a good way to end it all.

"What I don't understand," he said loudly enough for Monty and Chip to hear, "is how Gadget expects to sink Albacore

CROW: Balti - oh, heck, the joy's gone out of it.

with a 14.5 round. That's gotta be smaller than the .22 bullet Widget shot at us, right?"

TOM: I smell some more technical explanations.

CROW: Or Joel forgot to change his socks again.

JOEL: Hey.

"No, Dale," Chip explained patiently. "That's fourteen point five millimeters and twenty-two hundredths of an inch. The 14.5 is much bigger."

TOM: At least it didn't take him long.

"The 14.5mm is about 160 times as powerful as a .22 round," Monty added. He had been researching the 14.5mm Soviet recently.

TOM: Why, you may ask? Who cares!

"Any bigger, an' you're a cannon."

CROW: Wait - I'm bigger than 14.5mm.

"Twenty-two hundredths of an inch?" Dale asked with a frown. "Funny, but it looked bigger when she was pointing it at me."

"Bullets usually do," Chip agreed.

JOEL: [sighs]

"They measure diameter, lad," Monty explained. "A 14.5mm round is about 155mm long."

CROW: Look, could you wake me up after the miasma of boring technodrivel?

JOEL: Sure.

[CROW snores loudly throughout the next.]

"Oh. Fifteen millimeters is about like this, right?" Dale asked, holding his hands thirteen millimeters apart. "But the big round thing I saw Gadget working on was about this thick," he said, spreading his hands another ten millimeters.

TOM: I call not fair. Why does he get to take a nap?

JOEL: He asked first.

"A Soviet fourteen point five millimeter machine gun round is act'ally twenty five millimeters in diameter," Monty agreed. "It's necked. The bullet is only -"

TOM: You mean I can't go to sleep?

JOEL: Tom, you're a robot.

Perceiving that Dale's mind was close to a general protection fault, Chip cut in. "Dale," he asked, "Did you get the number of that sub?"

TOM: But Crow's a robot. Why does he nap?

JOEL: I dunno. Wake him up and ask.

Chapter Twenty : Reconstruction

TOM: Crow, buddy, wake up. It's over.

CROW: Bzzzsnrk -- Huh?

"Captain Jürgen?" Chip asked the microphone sitting in front of him. "My name's Chip. We met briefly."

JOEL: [CHIP] While you were trying to kill me.

"Yes, sir," Jürgen said politely. "What can I do for you?"

JOEL: [CHIP] I'm going to recall the rescue plane unless you quack like a duck over the ship's loudspeakers.

Chip exhaled slowly. "First, I'd like to tell you that a rescue aircraft has been dispatched. It should reach you within two hours."

"Thank you, sir."

It may open fire on you, but it'll be there...

JOEL: Good old Chip - looking on the bright side as usual.

"May I speak with Widget, please? It's important, and I'm afraid it's personal."

TOM: [CHIP] Hi, Widget. I'm really annoyed you tried to kill me.

There was a pause. "One moment, please."

TOM: [WIDGET] I know - you take it and pretend you're me, and we'll see how long we can fool him.

BOTS: [Giggle conspiratorially]

Monterey, Dale, Zipper and Foxglove stood in a semicircle behind Chip. Monty was nervously drumming his fingers

TOM: Ringo Starr!

- watching, Foxglove recalled a moment the month before.

JOEL: Back when life had meaning.

Monty was helping Gadget stand up, and Foxy had suddenly noticed that Gadget's entire hand was smaller than two of Monty's fingers. She also recalled the affection that flowed between them;

CROW: Between Monty's fingers?

TOM: "I love you, index finger."

CROW: "I love you, pinky."

JOEL: They're Disney toons. They don't have pinkies.

CROW: Wrong production company?

Gadget didn't need help standing up, and Monty knew it, but he couldn't resist a chance to offer and she couldn't refuse any gift from him, no matter how trivial.

TOM: Was that supposed to be heartwarming?

JOEL: I can't tell any more. The cockles of my heart have been frozen solid.

"Widget here," came the voice out of the Walkman headphones Gadget had rigged as stereo loudspeakers. "I'd like to thu - thu - thank you for sending help so quickly." The grinding of her teeth was barely audible.

CROW: She's such a good sport.

"You're welcome," Chip said calmly. "May I presume on your gratitude and time?"

A confused silence. "Very well," she said cautiously.

TOM: [CHIP] First, promise not to kill me.

"I've found some interesting issues concerning what happened on the bridge.

JOEL: [CHIP] Did you know two civilians named Bernie and Gidget were there when you sank the Miniscule?

I'd like to share them with you."

TOM: [CHIP] Would you believe you can make up to $30,000 by posting a simple message on the Internet? It's true, and let me tell you how....

Widget sighed. "You expect me to believe that you've uncovered startling new evidence which proves my father didn't abandon me?"

"At least hear me out."

CROW: Looks like Widget made a good guess there.

JOEL: She must be reading ahead.

"You have my undivided attention." Her voice turned silky.

CROW: [WIDGET] The cost is $2.95 for the first minute, and $1.50 for each additional minute.

"I assume you'll point out there was no reason to abandon me when it would have been easy to kill me?"

JOEL: [WIDGET] I've been reading ahead, you know.

Chip inhaled deeply. "No, ma'am, I will not."

Monty jerked, staring at Chip.

TOM: [MONTY] You're ad-libbing?

"Although that sounds reasonable, a little thought

CROW: [MONTY] And I'm good at little thoughts.

TOM: No, I think this is Chip. He hasn't said "Too-ra-loo!" yet.

JOEL: Hey, I don't think Monty's said "too-ra-loo" in this fanfic yet. And for noticing something good, you get a ram chip!

shows that's a false line of logic. Actual infanticide is very rare. What is more common, both historically and today, is exposing infants.

TOM: Maybe it's just me, but I can't see Chip saying these words.

CROW: Too depressing?

TOM: Too many syllables.

I found some laws from Roman occupied Egypt describing adoption and inheritance rights of infants which had been exposed but were then taken and raised by other people.

JOEL: I find it very hard to imagine Chip reading "Egypt Under Roman Rule".

TOM: He must have read it while waiting for Monty to check out "Russian Bullets Best Suited for Mice".

Today, consider the baby in a dumpster syndrome, and the stereotype of the baby left on the doorstep. Geegaw's and Monty's alleged abandonment of you is entirely typical."

"Chip," Monty started.

CROW: [MONTY] Roight! Who are you, an' what 'ave you done with my little mate Chipper?

Dale elbowed Monty. "Give him a chance."

TOM: [DALE] He's going for an Emmy.

"So why in the river?" Widget asked dubiously.

JOEL: [CHIP] Because there's no canyons on Manhattan.

"Why not the river? Think of Moses. You couldn't be left anywhere nearby, because an albino, one armed, newborn, female, mouse would be entirely too easy to trace. Your version of events is internally consistent and logical.

CROW: [CHIP] So it's okay for you to kill your sister.

In fact, it could be argued you must have been placed on a raft since your survival otherwise is so unlikely."

"What are you doin' -" Monty began.

CROW: [CHIP] Telling her it's okay to kill her sister - oh, wait....

Chip hit the cough button. "Monty, quiet!" he snapped. The anger that spilled out showed just how nervous the chipmunk was, despite his calm behavior on the mike.

JOEL: Who's Mike?

TOM: After your time.

JOEL: How would you know?

TOM: It's a bilocation thing. You see, by transcending normal macro causality -

JOEL: Tom, don't explain. I'm not in the mood.

What Chip did was convince Widget she was speaking to someone who

CROW: Was even crazier than she was.

would at least try to keep close to the truth. Which was essential for what Chip was trying to do.

CROW: End the fanfic and any possibility of a sequel.

"All right," Widget said guardedly. "What's the catch?"

ALL: Twenty-two!

"The catch is that what you know supports two opposed scenarios. First, yours, that your father abandoned you and Monty was an accomplice. Then, mine, that Monty's description of how it happened is correct and that it was a horrible accident."

TOM: [CHIP] Third, that you're not actually related to Gadget at all!

"You just admitted Monty's is yours," she said with a smile.

"Should I insult your intelligence

JOEL: [WIDGET] Oh, please - I really like having my intelligence insulted.

TOM: [CHIP] We're going to have a happy ending.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Sure.

and deny it?" Chip pointed out. "I know Monterey and I cannot imagine him helping a friend expose a daughter. He would have adopted you first.

TOM: [CHIP] So, you lucked out.

Even granting that he's changed down the years,

TOM: [CHIP] Gotten fatter.

he would not lie about it now, not to me, and certainly not to you. In my opinion, the Monty I know would accept responsibility for his past actions."

TOM: The Monty I know would not.

JOEL: Well... little things, no. But big things, like infanticide --

TOM: [furiously] The Monty I know wouldn't be involved in infanticide,because none of the writers would be crazy enough to put him in a situation where he had to deal with it!

"So we've reached an impasse." Widget's hand hovered near the hangup button. Then she remembered the rescue aircraft might be recalled

CROW: To the factory because they forgot wings.

TOM: If Gadget built it, she's probably right.

- Andy needed these people, and she owed it to him to be polite to Chip.

The possibility he was stalling for time occurred to her - only to be dismissed. There wasn't any reason to lie to keep them surfaced, when they knew Albacore's course, speed, and position.

CROW: [WIDGET] Now I am paranoid - it's not like there's an attack plane with a torpedo heading towards us, tee hee.

"Have we? Let's consider what we both know: you fell into the river."

"I was thrown into the river." Her voice was cold and angry.

TOM: A subtle distinction, to be sure.

"With all respect ma'am, that is an assumption. The fact is you were in the river. Do you agree?"

There was a long pause. "Yes, I agree."

CROW: The conversation was beginning to remind Widget of a chat with Kenneth Starr.

"And, in fact, the only real difference between your falling in the river accidentally and being thrown into the river is the intent of the person who did it?"

TOM: [CHIP] And from this, we arrive at the principle of free will and ethics -

Widget frowned. She felt as though she was wandering into a trap, but she couldn't see it. "Yes, I agree."

"That's where we disagree, ma'am."

Widget blinked. "What?"

CROW: [WIDGET] He's ad-libbing?

"Imagine yourself in Geegaw's position - assuming it was an accident for a moment. You've jumped into the river with your newborn daughter. Your other newborn daughter is missing. What's the first thing you do?"

Monty inhaled sharply.

CROW: [CHIP] Wrong, Monty. Your lungs would fill with water and you'd sink.

"I'd look for the other baby."

"You can't find her."

"Then ... I'd warm Gadget up. Bird in the hand."

CROW: [WIDGET] I'd set fire to her blanket.

"Exactly." Chip took in a deep breath. "Ma'am, he took Gadget back to the hospital. Hospital records show Gadget was re-admitted into the waiting room about thirty eight minutes after the two of you were discharged. She is described as having some water in her lungs."

JOEL: And on her brain.

There was a short pause. "I think you'll agree, ma'am, that holding a newborn underwater would be an easily avoidable risk in the scenario you proposed. All they had to do was say Monterey and Geegaw split up, with Monty going over the bridge."

Chip waited for a response. Widget's hand clenched into a fist, tighter and tighter.

TOM: Left hand or right hand?

"You're lying," Widget snarled.

TOM: [CHIP] Well, you got me. I was lying about the rescue plane, too. Ha ha!

Chip inhaled deeply twice. Foxglove looked at him, knowing he was about to explode. Chip's temper wasn't the best.

"Ma'am, I'm aware it must seem that way to you. But please keep in mind I cannot show you the documentation.

TOM: [CHIP] Kinko's is closed, and I can't find a fax machine.

I found three doctors, four nurses, and eight former workers who either saw the incident or recall hearing about it."

TOM: [CHIP] They're all dead, but in Meghan's universe, that's not a big deal.

Foxglove blinked, astonished that Chip had not gone ballistic.

"And where was Monty during all this?"

JOEL: In the library with Professor Plum and a revolver.

"He was looking for you, ma'am. Everyone who could be spared left the hospital.

CROW: To make a pizza run.

Monty refused to change into dry clothes until the middle of the next morning.

TOM: [CHIP] It still being Wednesday, after all.

He was showing symptoms of hypothermia, and also received treatment. I have those records as well."

JOEL: [CHIP] I can't show them to you, but you can trust me. Would I lie to save the life of the mouse I love?

Widget fell silent.

"Ma'am, are you still there?"

"Yes... yes, sorry." She gulped twice.

CROW: [WIDGET] I'll... just go away now. Sorry for bothering you.

"And then there's the matter of eyewitness testimony."

Monty frowned. "Nobody saw..." and trailed off when realization dawned on him.

JOEL: [MONTY] If you define force as change in momentum, you can easily calculate the speed of an object undergoing acceleration close to the speed of light!

Chip looked up.

CROW: At his cue card.

"Of course somebody saw, Monterey," sounded a dead voice from the earphones. "You expect me to believe you found the cat after all these years?"

JOEL: [WIDGET] Next you'll expect me to believe in talking mice.

"Ma'am, cats are longer lived than mice. In addition, unlike dogs, cats tend to have small, specific hunting areas."

"They're pelagic," Widget agreed.

CROW: Isn't it weird how the writer can forget to look up a word, and make all his characters look pretty stupid?

JOEL: It's a fearsome responsibility.

"Finally, ma'am, cats are not modest, and if you ask them in just the right way, they'll tell mouse stories for hours." Chip swung a memo recorder up on the desk. "The first voice you're going to hear, ma'am, is Spunky. He's

TOM: [CHIP] Our enforcer on the West Side.

a young cat who was kind enough to lend us a paw."

Chip tapped the play button.

CROW: The theme music of "Babylon 5" came out.

JOEL: [CHIP] Dale, did you record over my evidence again?

TOM: [DALE] I'm sorry! But the Minbari Civil War -

"Wow, Mr. Mungo. I'll bet you frightened half the mice to death."

"Well, Spunky," chuckled the voice of a cat who had seen better days,

JOEL: And better fanfics,

"I probably shouldn't brag about it, but

TOM: [MR. MUNGO] I will.

one night I remember I chased two mice right off that bridge. They took one look at me coming and they jumped right off. Two males, and one of them was pretty big..."

Chip hit Stop.

CROW: Thank you.

"Mr. Mungo didn't remember the exact date, but recalls it was early summer, many years ago."

"Of course, you realize I don't believe you."

JOEL: [CHIP] Oh well. Bye!

"I can understand that, ma'am. I'm prepared to meet you alone,

CROW: Wait. Is he asking her out?

or on your boat, with copies of the documentation." He hesitated, and licked his lips. "I'm not offended, ma'am," he lied. "I understand you have prejudices too."

Widget snapped at the phone. "You're saying I want my father to have thrown me out with the trash? You're saying this doesn't ... hurt when I think about it?"

JOEL: "Mourning Becomes Widget".

"Ma'am, there's a satisfaction in fighting evil, especially when we win. I understand it hurts to think your father never loved you. But it also hurts to think how narrowly you missed having all that."

TOM: [CHIP] So suffer a little. C'mon, let me hear you cry.

"Thank you, sir. I'll consider -"

CROW: [WIDGET] A new and crunchy death for you.

"You're an engineer, ma'am. You like to see causes and results. I can understand it must hurt to think that losing your father was the result of blind chance, bad luck, like your arm."

"My father -" Widget started.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Is alive and well, running a bar in Florida. I've been trying to tell you this is the wrong number!

"Is dead." Chip finished. "Ma'am, he's dead, dead, dead. He never knew you,

JOEL: [singing] If I never knew you....

and he'll never know you. But this thing you have going with your sister - I think it's taken on a life of its own. And whose fault is that, ma'am?"

TOM: Chip's a natural diplomat, isn't he?

There was a long silence.

"Ma'am?" Chip asked again. The line was still open.

"Chip?" asked Jürgen's voice.

"Sir?"

CROW: [CHIP] What, you're using my first name now?!

"Widget's unable to come to phone just now," Jürgen said smoothly. "She asked me to thank you again for the rescue plane. Thank you, sir."

"Good bye, sir," Chip replied automatically. He hung up.

TOM: When he realized how much this call was going to cost.

Chip rested his head and arms on the table. The tension and fear came bubbling to the surface as the chipmunk started shaking. Dale wordlessly put an arm around his friend.

"What if she didn't believe me, Dale?" Chip asked. "What if I just got her more angry?"

TOM: [Sarcasm sequencer] Oh, gee, Chip, what makes you think that could happen?

Jürgen hugged Widget gently, stroking her hair while she cried over bad luck and lost opportunities.

JOEL: [WIDGET] I almost had that part in Evangelion, but they went with a Human....

Chapter Twenty-one : In the Hands of the Blonde Mouse

ALL: [Wolf whistles and "Say no more" innuendo]

Shiro cleared his throat. This wouldn't be easy to say.

TOM: [SHIRO] "Australopithecus".

"Ma'am," he said, his voice rough, "I've worked for a lot of evil megalomaniacs in my time, and I wanted to tell you that you're the first who would hold a wounded henchman's hand and let him call you 'Mommy.'"

JOEL: [SHIRO] Actually, Dr. Phillips insisted we call him "Mommy". That's why I left.

Her pink eyes regarded him. "Thank you, Mr. Shiro," she said, her voice a little flat. "But I actually consider myself to be more of a Byronic tragic hero."

"Yes, ma'am," Shiro agreed immediately. He was too polite to point out that most of his previous employers did as well. They were standing on the Albacore's deck with ten crew posted

TOM: On sticks, to inspire loyalty in the others.

as lookouts, and the injured mole,

CROW: Forced to swim alongside, while Widget laughed merrily.

waiting for the rescue plane to arrive. The sea was behaving well today, and the crew was scanning about with binoculars.

BOTS: [CREW] Hubba-hubba.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Guys, you're supposed to be looking for the plane....

"Where did you learn that mole lullaby?"

"I just knew it, okay?" her voice was getting a little testy.

"Anyway, ma'am," Shiro finished, "I just wanted you to know that the whole crew knows about it -" she groaned softly "-and we all really appreciate it."

JOEL: The affection and gratitude of her crew pained her.

"Thanks, Shiro-san."

"Aircraft spotted, bearing two nine niner," called a lookout.

TOM: [WIDGET] That's bad. It should be bearing a pilot.

===

Gadget slipped sideways to her right, starting her attack run.

CROW: Her sister's life would soon be hers. The familiar cold thrill rushed through her slender body.

She wanted the torpedo to hit square against the side of the target, but the boat's speed would make that impossible.

TOM: Mercifully, Nowak spares us a definition of "biting angle".

Instead, she would launch it against Albacore's bow port side. The Russian machine gun bullet would easily penetrate on a glancing blow to wreak havoc inside the boat.

JOEL: Her hand would cause the ocean's waters to run a glorious red....

Albacore began to slow down.

CROW: Even better!

There was a litter on deck

TOM: Five hundred dollar fine.

with a mole lying in it, but Gadget had expected that. What she hadn't expected was the large number of crewmen on deck with him. And the way the ship slowed down, as though presenting itself as a target.

She put her hand on the release switch.

[J&TB, led by TOM's bass voice, launch into a rendition of John Barry's "Media Vita in Morte Summus" ["In the Midst of Life We Are in Death"] from the scene in "Lion in Winter" where Henry sentences his sons to death for treason.]

And took it away.

CROW: Aw.

She could imagine firing the weapon against a shape in the water, but not at the people she could see on deck. Maybe she had been fooling herself all along.

TOM: It's about time, too.

Her eyes swept the deck, and rested on her sister.

CROW: Do it. Do it!

Well, she thought, let's get this over with. And she steered the Wing into a vertical approach.

TOM: Onto her sister.

===

"Gott in Himmel," hissed Jürgen. "That plane is armed. Ma'am, get below."

CROW: [WIDGET] Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?

"If she's going to sink the boat," Widget observed mildly, "then I'm safer out here. Besides, she's coming in for a landing."

Widget couldn't explain her real reasons.

TOM: Because they were stupid.

Jürgen would object.

JOEL: Like he'd dare.

She stepped away from the crowd, towards the aircraft. She wanted to present a clear target.

CROW: Do you suppose there's a character in this mess who doesn't yearn for oblivion?

JOEL: Zipper.

BOTS: Who?

Gadget brought the Ranger Wing down,

CROW: [GADGET] You were adopted.

and leapt out before the blades stopped turning.

CROW: THUNK!

JOEL: Oh man, her head just flew a good --

Ignoring her sister, she touched the face of the shivering mole in the litter.

JOEL: See? Widget throws her injured crewmen in the trash.

It's real, she thought, surprised. "Let's load him up," she said briefly.

CROW: [GADGET] I've got some yellow pills, and some red pills, and some pretty blue pills - those are my favorites....

"Wait," Jürgen said. "Let's get that torpedo off your plane first."

JOEL: [GADGET] "Sure!" KABOOM!

"You'll pry that torpedo out of my cold dead fingers," Gadget hissed. "You've already shot me down once."

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Oh, you're going to bring that up again?

"We're not going to fire on you when you're carrying a wounded crewman," Jürgen pointed out.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Sure we will - I mean, of course we won't.

"I wouldn't put it past her," Gadget said, pointing. "I won't launch a torpedo after picking up a wounded crewman."

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Why did you bring it?

"It's the easiest thing in the world to launch a weapon at a shape in the water," Jürgen contradicted her.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] And I oughta know.

"Well, yeah," Gadget admitted. He's got my number.

TOM: Written on every men's room wall from --

Widget shook her head, as though in disgust. "Look, we can't waste time staring at one another's weapons."

CROW: Hmm. I don't think I'll say it.

JOEL: You're a gentleman.

"You have a suggestion?" Gadget and Jürgen asked simultaneously.

Widget sighed. She didn't want to do this. "Gadget's afraid to leave because

JOEL: [WIDGET] She's chicken. [Clucking noises.]

we might shoot her down. We're afraid to let her leave because

JOEL: [WIDGET] We're chicken. [Clucking noises.]

she might sink us. So I ride back with her. We won't shoot me down, and with me captured, she doesn't have a reason to sink the Albacore."

JOEL: [WIDGET] Because my heavily armed crew won't try to rescue me or anything.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jürgen interrupted, making the "time out" signal with his hands. "Remember? We sank a cruise ship last week. People are angry at you."

JOEL: [WIDGET] Oh, yeah. Look, I think that cruise ship incident's behind us.

"Besides, I have to look at Chip's evidence," she admitted.

"Widget," Jürgen said slowly, "He's probably lying."

"Jürgen, I have to know. This all stops until I know one way or the other. Clear?"

Gadget shifted uncomfortably. She had no idea what they were talking about. Still, it was easy to guess: Chip had found, or claimed to find, something about Widget's past.

CROW: The issue of "Pentmouse".

Would Chip lie about something like that? Probably, if he thought it would help me.

"At least make her promise to let you go first," Jürgen protested.

"Why? She'd lie," Widget pointed out.

JOEL: All these claims of dishonesty. Any minute now, Widget will be accusing her parents.

TOM: Uh, Joel, she did....

CROW: At least nobody has started singing.

"I would not," Gadget snapped, looking up angrily. For some reason, a crewmouse had asked her to autograph a video cassette labeled Mighty Mouse, and it seemed simpler and faster to comply than to ask for an explanation.

JOEL: [CREWMOUSE] And sign this blank check?

TOM: [GADGET] Sure.

"Would too!"

"Would not!"

JOEL: Dialog second only to O'Neil at his best.

"But..." Jürgen stood helplessly.

TOM: Wondering how to get at the dialog coach.

"There's a mole dying here, sister," Widget finally snapped.

TOM: Her sister's neck, ending the story.

Gadget took a breath.

CROW: She's the asphyx!

"Right. Let's go." Gadget checked the straps holding Andy's stretcher in the back seat of the Wing. The crewmen standing about her blinked in astonishment, and she turned to see what they were looking at.

CROW: [GADGET] Oh, my non-muscine body? Tee hee!

Widget had stepped close to Jürgen and was now kissing him softly on the lips.

JOEL: Mice have lips?

Jürgen was getting over the surprise, and was holding her gently. She pulled back, smiled, and touched his nose.

TOM: With a crowbar.

"I be bock," she said in a bad imitation of Schwartzmaus.

He smiled and laughed. "Promise?"

CROW: No, real butter.

She shook her head. "You know I can't."

JOEL: [WIDGET] I'm... flighty.

A second quick kiss and she was walking towards the Wing.

TOM: Of course, she kissed another crewman, making Jürgen wonder....

===

They made the first half of the trip in total silence.

CROW: Aside from the wails of agony from the mole, but they both found it strangely soothing.

"Any infection on the ear?" Gadget asked.

"Didn't even need stitches."

"Pity."

TOM: Right. It's Luwhannie. Everything makes sense now.

CROW: You mean "Lahwhiney".

JOEL: I thought it was "Lawhinie".

TOM: Look, can we debate about it later? I hear they have a webpage that's solely devoted to how the name is spelled.

"Sorry to disappoint you. You've got a few lumps," Widget observed.

CROW: [GADGET] I like my coffee sweet.

"Getting better. The swelling's down. He's old enough to be your father," Gadget heard herself say.

Widget glanced over at her. "Older men are nicer."

TOM: Alice Walker?

"They are?" Gadget blinked.

"You didn't know?" there was something faintly mocking in her tone.

CROW: She's mocking the sexual innocence of a Disney character?

"Well," Gadget said, her face starting to burn, "Some of us have certain values -"

"Some of us can't get a boy-friend," Widget chanted gleefully.

JOEL: You're right, Crow.

"I had a boyfriend!"

"Mommy?" asked Andy, interrupting them.

"Pardon me," Widget snorted to her sister. She turned around in her seat, and continued in a very different voice. "Honey mole?" she asked gently.

TOM: In her maternal, nurturing scraping brick voice.

"I'm cold, Mommy."

CROW: [WIDGET] Shut up or we'll turn this plane around.

Widget leaned against Andy, warming him with her body heat. "Better?"

"Uh-huh." The mole sighed contentedly.

TOM: Oh please. You know he's faking this to cop a feel.

"Can you sleep if I sing you a song?"

"Okay."

TOM: [WIDGET] Oh, Fortuna,
velut Luna,
statu variabilis....

"Little mole, God gave to you, lots of dirt to tunnel through. Eat your worms, from tip to end. Recall the Cat is not your friend. Beware the Hawk, and tunnel deep. But now's the time for you to sleep."

CROW: So the theory is that singing about how mice and hawks eat you will help the kids sleep?

JOEL: Hey, the humans kids are taught a prayer with the line, "If I should die before I wake". It's the parents revenge code.

Widget remained twisted into an uncomfortable position for some time, before Andy's breath

TOM: Quivered and died.

became regular. Bones creaking, she sat back down next to her sister, and folded her arms angrily.

Gadget thought. She was trying to kill you last week. Like you wanted to kill her.

CROW: What's that smell?

JOEL: A Message.

Where do those sides of us come from? What makes us decide which side to show? Gadget thought back to the last few days, and knew she didn't want to live like that.

TOM: At least not until the sequel, when her long-lost nephew comes for revenge!

Even though it was self defense.

"Where were we before Andy interrupted?" Widget asked.

"You were mocking me for my romance free lifestyle, and I was about to brag about a disastrous relationship in an attempt to sound more experienced than I am."

"I remember. You said, 'I had a boyfriend.' I suppose I should make fun of the fact there was only one, and then you can say at least you knew his name."

TOM: Yeah, that'll wow 'em at Disney.

Gadget sighed. "I'm sorry, Widget, but I don't want to hurt you any more."

JOEL: [GADGET] But I would like to hurt you again.

"I'm glad. I'd like to call a truce. Your Chip claims he can prove our father didn't try to kill me, and I'd like to see the evidence."

"Why does that make such a difference?" Gadget asked, guarded.

"Gadget... I don't know. I mean, I did things when I was younger.

CROW: [WIDGET] It was only a few pictures, and I needed the money.

Sometimes to live, sometimes because I wanted something, or because I thought it would get me friends. And I always knew they were wrong, but I thought it was all someone else's fault I had to do them." She shook her head. Her voice was sad and tired. "You get an image of yourself, you know? But I guess it's just been me all along."

CROW: Forced to confront her own guilt for her ruined life, she vaults over the side of the plane.

JOEL: What ruined life? She started from a neglectful household and built her own submarine!

"Do you know Andy well?" Gadget asked.

"Not particularly." Widget shrugged. "He's a stoker

TOM: Bram Stoker.

- power plant crew."

"Then why be so nice to him? He won't remember it when he's better, he's not important enough to flatter, and nobody expects it of you."

"I don't know," Widget admitted. "It just came out."

"Widget," Gadget said, and her voice suddenly cracked, "I don't know what Chip found. But our father couldn't have abandoned you, any more than you could keep it from 'coming out.' He couldn't have done it to a stranger.

CROW: [GADGET] Abandonment is reserved strictly for close family.

If you believe Jürgen loves you, why can't you believe our father loved you? You're worthy of it."

JOEL: Finally. A moment of sanity.

"What..." Widget said slowly, asking the question she suddenly felt needed an answer, "What was our father like?"

Gadget smiled. "I think my earliest memory is being hugged to a bomber jacket and smelling gasoline.

CROW: [GADGET] He was always setting me on fire. Ah, fun!

No matter what I did or how I felt, I always knew he would help me, even if all he could do was make me feel better. He was so proud of me."

"Bomber jacket, huh?" Widget smiled to herself.

TOM: [WIDGET] Did he kill lots of people?

"We had a steady stream of riffraff and out of work airmen moving through our house all the time.

CROW: [GADGET] I became a woman in my mid teens.

He spent two weeks in the Atlantic after he went down trying to fly feline leukemia medication to the Azores. Unfortunately, he was a bold pilot, and you know about old, bold pilots. I think he'd be proud of you, Widget. Because you're a crackerjack engineer, and because of the stuff that just comes out of you."

Widget grunted.

JOEL: She forgot her lines.

"Where did you learn a mole song?"

"I used to live next to a mole burrow," Widget explained. "I heard them every night."

"And you never complained about the noise?"

JOEL: [WIDGET] No, I just killed them.

"I liked it."

"Are you still in touch with your, uh, boyfriends?"

JOEL: [WIDGET] Do long-range tactical nukes count?

Widget was silent for a while. "Truth be told, they were all disasters. You're probably smart for avoiding it. Jürgen, well, that just started today and I'm scared to death."

"Jürgen seems a good man."

TOM: [GADGET] So what do you see in him?

"Would our daddy approve?"

JOEL: Like it really matters.

"Golly, I never knew him to bear a grudge. I know he would have disapproved of my boyfriend. Our father was a wonderful judge of character. I always envied that in him. Did your boyfriends ever break your inventions and claim it was accidental?"

TOM: Waitwaitwaitwait!! This is great!

[JOEL and CROW stare at him.]

TOM: Don't you guys see? That reference places this in the same continuity as "Gadget and Goliath", which was totally off about how the Rangers formed! It would never have been able to take place with the real Rangers!

JOEL: So this whole fanfic, then--

CROW: Doesn't exist! It's not real! We're in the clear!

[Wild cheering noises.]

Widget smiled. "Yours too?"

"We've got other family, you know," Gadget explained.

"No... no, I didn't." Something that obvious had never occurred to Widget before.

TOM: I get it - she's stupid.

"My mother's side, mostly. They don't approve of me."

"Why not?"

CROW: [GADGET] Because I'm in all the fanfics of the Rangers, while they have to wait for Sisters to be finished.

"Because nice girls don't tinker with engine parts."

Widget grinned. "You have got to be putting me on."

"Not at all. Cousin Gidget?

JOEL: [WIDGET] Sally Field?

She doesn't know the difference between a SPARC workstation and a spark plug."

Widget pounded the instrument panel and choked back laughter.

CROW: It tasted like bile in her mouth.

"I think I like you as a sister," Gadget finally decided.

JOEL: See, they grow closer by denigrating others.

TOM: Like us?

JOEL: Uhm... yeah.

"Uhm," Widget coughed, and looked forward, clearly nervous. "Uh, mutual."

"You know," Gadget said, clearing her throat, "maybe you should talk to dad about this."

Widget blinked at her sister. "He's kinda dead, Gadget."

CROW: "So are you," said Gadget as she pressed the ejection switch.

"Uh-huh. Once we drop off your friend, do you wanna visit him?"

TOM: Permanently?

"I guess I'm free for the evening," Widget said cautiously.

TOM: Time to go, guys.

JOEL: Great! I have a little exercise in mind.

CROW: Be still, my beating heart...

[1 ... 2 ... 3 ... 4 ... 5 ... 6 ... SoL]

[Main deck of the Satellite of Love. JOEL stands in front of a computer showing a PowerPoint slide which reads "ENG203 Limits of Characterization: Prof. Robinson." The robots sit attentively, like students at a lecture.]

JOEL: Works of art which share certain traits are called....

CROW: Plagiarism?

TOM: Genre, sir?

JOEL: Very good, Mr. Servo. As we all know, the existence of genre and characterization within those genres implies limits to what characters can do.

CROW: Like Superman and kryptonite, sir?

JOEL: A pathetic example, but acceptable. [CROW bounces excitedly at the praise]. I'll be showing you a set of PowerPoint slides which illustrate known characters in different situations, and you tell me if their behavior is appropriate or inappropriate for their genre and characterization. We start with Arnold Schwartzenegger from the first Terminator movie giving Linda Hamilton a box of chocolates and a sincere apology for killing her roommate.

TOM: I'd say inappropriate.

JOEL: Right, Tom. Now we see Gadget building a torpedo out of a Russian machine gun bullet.

TOM: Still inappropriate.

JOEL: Right. Now we see Linus Van Pelt from Peanuts describing the Invasion of Normandy.

CROW: Inappropriate?

[JOEL presses a button. Smoke starts to curl up from CROW as he vibrates. ]

JOEL: Wrong, Crow, that was from the Memorial Day special, "What Have We Learned, Charlie Brown?"

TOM: Sir, how about Gadget's mother's sister forcing poison down Gadget's mother's throat?

JOEL: Uh... well, I liked that story.

TOM: Or the discovery that Gadget's family is plotting her death?

CROW: Or the Rescue Rangers helpless in the hands of a crazed serial killer?

JOEL: Sisters and Rhyme and Reason are both good. What's your point?

TOM: My point, sir, that these examples show that a good writer can break the rules and get away with it, and that these alleged rules of writing you quote oh-so-glibly are nothing more than rationalizations for disliking a work of art. Stories soar or plummet upon their own wings, and your critical guidelines have as much to do with art as margin widths! Can you not see that our lives are founded on a lie?

JOEL: Mice with zip guns.

[Pause.]

TOM: You're right. This sucks.

[Commercial sign flashes.]

[JOEL and the BOTS enter and take their seats.]

Chapter Twenty-two : "I Have Met The Enemy And I Am Her."

TOM: Profound or just plain silly? You decide!

There aren't many trees near most airports,

CROW: All landscapers are shot on sight.

but under one of the rare ones were two mouse sized graves. Widget was staring at them, trying to understand what she was feeling.

JOEL: This strange feeling called "happiness" was forming again....

She had never resented her mother;

TOM: Much.

sometimes she even imagined that her mother would have kept her father from abandoning her. It was dark,

TOM: In the Nowakverse.

and the graves were a little hard to see, but

CROW: The infrared scope on her grenade launcher lit them up nicely.

they were there, they were together, and while logically Widget knew they were only old holes, she couldn't escape the sense her mother was happy to be with her father.

CROW: [SARAH] We're dead! We're dead! We're not trapped in this imperfection of the universe called "life"! Whoo-hoo, party!

"Mom, Dad," Gadget said. "You'll be happy to know Widget didn't die. She's here, and I think ... there's a lot to like about her."

TOM: If you overlook her homicidal tendencies.

"Uh..." Widget swallowed nervously. "Hi. Gadget, can I be alone?"

JOEL: [WIDGET] I'd like to plant this thermonuclear device in privacy.

"Sure," her sister said. "Dad and I used to live in that B-25 fuselage over there.

CROW: [GADGET] It was really uncomfortable until they stopped using it.

If you come in, be careful of the deadfall traps."

JOEL: Deadfall traps?

TOM: They're canonical.

JOEL: You're kidding.

She turned and walked through the grass, towards the old bomber that had been her home when she was young.

TOM: And is now the home for the famous "Super Carrier" series, located at:

http://r-style.sci-nnov.ru/~shredder/ !

JOEL: Dot R-U. That's Russia, isn't it?

TOM: Yup! Kinda ironic, if you think about it.

CROW: This public service announcement was made to appease the educational quota imposed on entertainment nowadays.

"Uh, well, Mom, Dad," Widget started.

JOEL: [WIDGET] I'm sorry I didn't get to kill you myself.

"I uh, kind of thought that you abandoned me when I was a baby. You see, I'm...

TOM: Psychotic.

not much of a judge of character,

JOEL: [WIDGET] Look at the crew I hired.

and I - well, maybe I took some things people told me when I was younger too seriously.

JOEL: She finally knows there's no such thing as the Easter Bunny.

CROW: Wha-what are you saying, Joel?

JOEL: Uh....

I didn't think you liked me much.

JOEL: [WIDGET] The feeling's mutual.

That anyone could like me much. But there's someone now who loves me.

JOEL: [WIDGET] I'm not sure if he still will after detox, though.

And I think it's real, this time. He's, uh, an old war buddy of yours.

JOEL: [WIDGET] He tried to kill you, as well, so we have lots in common.

"Also, I've met my sister, and well... well, she's a little loopy, but I don't there's anything wrong with her a few months of therapy wouldn't cure.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Unlike me, who is a hopeless case.

TOM: So now she's listening to Dale's "expert" professional opinion of Gadget?

CROW: Yeah, he told her while he was reading "Kablammo Man" again.

So, I'm beginning to think that maybe, uh, I'm the one with the problem.

CROW: With "many" problems would be more accurate.

"So I guess, I'm sorry I thought that of you.

TOM: Yeah, it's not their fault that they're in the Nowakverse, after all.

"You don't know me,

JOEL: Thank God.

so maybe we have a lot to catch up on. I know Dad was really into airplanes, and Gadget's the same way,"

CROW: At least as far as spectacular crashes go.

Widget smiled. "I like the ocean.

JOEL: [WIDGET] There's so much room in there for the bodies I need to get rid of.

I've always lived near it, and ever since I was a little girl, it sounded like a friend to me. Even when there was a storm, it never frightened me. I felt like it was showing how powerful it was, how much you had to respect it." She sat down on the grass and resumed in a more natural tone.

TOM: Her normal grinding tones, then. How sweet.

"Sometimes I think that the ocean didn't drown me when Monty had his accident, because it knew how much I love it..."

CROW: Or because it wanted revenge on the land-dwellers.

===

"But where's Gadget?" Dale asked, worried.

TOM: Hiding behind the scene divider.

Chip leveled the harpoon gun, loaded with a net dart, at the wetsuit - clad figure sitting at the grave, talking too softly for them to hear.

CROW: Chip, stop mumbling.

"Let's ask her."

TOM: With a harpoon gun aimed at her?! What's Chip been doing, taking lessons on interpersonal relationships from Widget?

Dale put his hand firmly on the harpoon gun,

JOEL: [DALE] It's my turn to make a surprise attack on an unsuspecting victim!

pushing it down. "No," he said, shaking his head.

TOM: Oh go organize your toys, Mr. Smarty-Pants.

JOEL: Tired of the cocky intelligence Dale was suddenly showing, Chip turned the gun on the pompous brat and fired.

Chapter Twenty-three : Trials and Tribulations

Widget's trial quickly became a snarl of treaties and jurisdictions,

TOM: Which wasn't really all that exciting, so why bother showing it?

JOEL: Just be glad Nowak is not a lawyer.

with the precedents of the Count of Monte Christo, Captains Nemo and Harlock invoked to give her Byronic Hero status.

CROW: Why? To prove she's deranged?

When a petition from the dolphins and other cetaceans arrived (written with one of those pens that works underwater)

JOEL: Yep, we just had to be aware of that fact. Yesiree, the whole plot hangs on it.

and the builders of Minuscule dropped their suit in gratitude for the lucrative movie rights they now had,

JOEL: Since when did Mice make movies?

TOM: The--

JOEL: Nowak Principle, I know, I know.

CROW: Coming soon, "Minuscule"!

TOM: Eh, it'll be a chick flick. You know it.

Widget was given two years of probation during which she had to abstain from committing acts of vengeance without the permission of her parole officer.

CROW: Once she kills him off, she'll be in the clear.

TOM: After large amounts of property damage, public endangerment, and at least five counts of attempted murder, that's all the punishment deemed necessary?

JOEL: I see the Nowakverse's justice system was modeled after our own.

Gadget's construction of a torpedo did not pass entirely unnoticed.

TOM: Seeing as how she couldn't let it go to waste, and used it on that incoming passenger liner.

CROW: Hey, if it worked for Widget....

The Small Animals Council for Outlawing Private Ownership of Military Equipment (SACOPOME) attempted to make this an issue, but were faced with

TOM: Overwhelming printing costs and lack of viable articles.

stiff opposition from the Small Animals Torpedo Association ("Torpedoes don't sink ships, water sinks ships!")

CROW: Not here. "Nowak sinks ships!" would be correct.

and even their attempt to have Gadget prosecuted for not paying the import duty on a Russian machine gun bullet

TOM: Argh! He can't be serious!

JOEL: Easy, Tom, I think he's making a joke.

CROW: Why am I not in the mood for laughing?

faltered when it was discovered there weren't twelve animals in the city who would agree to jailing a Rescue Ranger.

CROW: They all wanted her dead.

Chapter Twenty-four : Two Ways to End a Story

TOM: What, this is a "Choose Your Own Adventure" book, now?

Wedding bells rang in joyous celebration,

JOEL: A happy ending?

TOM: What th--

CROW: My guess is that Nowak's Prozac finally kicked in.

and all the lives touched by Geegaw Hackwrench

CROW: Similar to having your face touched by a thrown brick.

came to town to witness the union of his daughter to the man with whom she had shared her work so long.

CROW: If you know what I mean....

TOM: Ah, one of those weddings!

It was, perhaps, the first time a bride wore a long sleeved black gown.

JOEL: Complete with shoulder holster.

Widget stepped slowly down the aisle, her arm in Monterey's.

CROW: [WIDGET] Er, Monty, I need my arm back for the wedding, please?

TOM: No, it must be her right arm.

JOEL: Either that, or she plunged her mechanical limb through Monterey's.

CROW: Hey, with Depresso-Lad writing this, it wouldn't be surprising.

Monty wore his old Rodent Air Force dress uniform

JOEL: Wasn't he in the Navy?

TOM: I don't care anymore. I just don't care anymore. My compassion has been drained, leaving only this barren husk of a 'bot.

- retailored -- and his hair was slicked back,

CROW: Using the natural grease from his unwashed scalp.

as he prepared to give his old friend's daughter away.

TOM: For two bits.

"Hey, Gadget," whispered Dale. "Don't you think this bit is a little, well, sexist?"

JOEL: Dale's against the traditional marriage ceremony?

Dale wore a tuxedo with an orange and green color scheme which could be used for traffic cones, except Dale's induced nausea.

CROW: Dale was getting sick?

TOM: His body still isn't used to the increased intelligence.

"Probably," Gadget admitted. For once she was wearing a dress of her own free will that wasn't a disguise.

CROW: [GADGET] Gee, it's so nice we were able to swing this before she starts to show, I guess they'll have to say it's premature or something, and -golly! Is that mike on?!

She had even left her goggles at home, since the colors clashed.

CROW: How, since the dress hasn't been prescribed a color yet?

"Still, Monty needs the closure."

JOEL: Not to mention the exercise.

TOM: A Velcro closure or a zip closure?

Chip, in tuxedo and without a fedora, swallowed repeatedly to cover his nervousness.

JOEL: [CHIP] I can't believe we lost the tape for the wedding march. Good thing nobody notices I replaced it. I just hope nobody realizes it's from "Nightmare on Elm Street".

The groom wore his old Kriegsmausine dress uniform,

CROW: His uniform was a dress?

JOEL: Er, no.

his medals exchanged for new ones which weren't as embarrassing to show in public.

JOEL: No "I killed hundreds of people during the war and all I got for it was this lousy medal"? Shame.

TOM: In the sixties, West Germany struck a run of Iron Crosses without swastikas so veterans could wear their medals in public legally -

JOEL: I DON'T CARE!

Gadget looked over the attendees.

TOM: Heavily sedated.

The presence of her father's old (mostly bachelor) friends and the entire crew of a submarine had tipped the demographics of the event to nearly 2.3 males per female.

JOEL: Not to mention 20 drunken deadbeats per responsible person.

CROW: I just want to know where the .3 comes in.

TOM: Maybe a relative of Anne Boleyn is there.

Gadget generally preferred to be a wallflower,

CROW: Sipping at a Miracle-Gro cocktail.

but tripping the light fantastic seemed unavoidable this time.

JOEL: Everyone was packing heat, after all, so it didn't make sense to turn anyone down.

She would be on the floor every dance, if it helped make her sister's wedding a success.

TOM: How nice of her to lay down on the floor, so everyone can walk over her.

CROW: It is Widget's wedding, remember.

"The reception should be interesting," she muttered to Foxglove.

JOEL: [GADGET] Think they'll find that bomb beforehand?

"Yeah..." the bat sighed happily.

CROW: [FOXGLOVE] Wait, what reception?

===

Fat Cat was waiting outside the church.

TOM: [FAT CAT] I cannot bear to walk upon consecrated soil.

Chip knew he should have been worried, but he

CROW: Was too loaded to care.

couldn't talk himself into more than wary concern. It felt wrong. Fat Cat had no particular reason to wreak havoc on the wedding,

JOEL: It didn't stop him during Consummation.

CROW: He had a reason. That story was actually in tune with the series.

TOM: And why can't we read that one instead?!

and in any event, it was too public, too obvious for him. He held a large bouquet of roses in his hands.

TOM: And a dead family member in his teeth.

Chip considered swinging into action, but Widget and Jürgen took over like the efficient team they were;

CROW: Bickering and quibbling over minute details.

Widget in command, Jürgen implementing and supporting.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Heel, Jürgen. Good boy.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] Yes dear.

TOM: Ah yes. To honor, love, cherish, and obey.

"Fat Cat," Widget nodded politely.

TOM: Unsure what his name was, she addressed him by his description.

"Dear lady," he nodded.

CROW: Off to sleep.

JOEL: I know I do at most weddings.

He nodded at Jürgen. "Congratulations, sir."

TOM: [FAT CAT] I hope you're insured.

"Thank you," Jürgen replied.

CROW: [JÜRGEN] But we're still not paying for the damages at the casino.

"May I ask if you will be keeping your maiden name?" Fat Cat asked politely.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Why? You want to buy it?

He blinked. "Say, is Jürgen your first or last name?" he queried.

"Both," Jürgen replied. "My father

CROW: Had a sick sense of humor.

stuttered and was too shy to admit it."

TOM: Or too stupid.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Do you have a middle name you could use?"

"Yes, but it's Jürgen."

"I was planning on keeping 'Hackwrench,'" Widget replied. "I haven't had it long and I'm not tired of it yet."

JOEL: [WIDGET] And if I do tire of it, I'll just shoot it into space.

"Besides," Jürgen pointed out, "it doesn't have that umlaut. I've never been fond of my umlaut."

CROW: His amulet?

TOM: Those two dots over -

CROW: I KNOW! I'm just trying to wring some entertainment value from this muck!

Fat Cat shook his head. "It's a shame you're

TOM: [FAT CAT] Still alive. May I remedy that for you?

Byronic. We could have accomplished a great deal together."

CROW: [FAT CAT] I hear Vegas is hiring dealers.

"Yes," Widget readily agreed. "It's a shame you're irredeemably evil."

JOEL: [WIDGET] And that I used up my weekly quota of e's in that sentence.

"I prefer to think of it as tenacity." He offered the roses. "If I may?"

"Thank you," Widget nodded.

The roses flattened her onto the pavement.

CROW: Huh? Roses are that heavy?

JOEL: They're probably laced with lead poisoning.

The thorns might have seriously injured her, if her wedding dress had not been made of Kevlar.

TOM: A black, Kevlar, long-sleeved gown for a bride. She's begging for someone to drive by and gun down her husband.

CROW: Considering Widget, she's probably expecting that hitman any minute now.

Of course, any cat knows that thorns are the idea behind roses.

TOM: Any dumb cat, maybe.

Still, in dropping the flowers, the feline crimelord had made a mistake both honest and somewhat flattering.

JOEL: And so, a potentially deadly accident is seen to really be a happy event.

TOM: Only in the Nowakverse.

===

Quickly resuscitated, Widget flipped her bridal bouquet experimentally in her hand,

CROW: Secretly making sure the explosives were armed.

wound up, and fired it at her sister with the terrifying accuracy of a laser guided bomb.

CROW: See?

It was even money if Gadget would catch it or be impaled by it, when Foxglove swooped down from the rafters and scored an interception worthy of a Patriot missile battery.

TOM: For those who could care less about military devices and their performance, it means that Foxglove caught the bouquet really well.

If you want to catch something in mid air, be a bat.

TOM: Or a bird.

CROW: Or a flying squirrel.

TOM: Or a praying mantis.

CROW: Or a taller creature.

TOM: Or a--

JOEL: Guys, I think you've made your point.

A spirited discussion ensued with Foxglove carrying the day by pointing out that "nobody said I couldn't," setting a precedent taken advantage of by Mr. Fenton

TOM: Who transformed into a bat.

as the garter was tossed. The climax of the tradition was a bit disappointing, as the membrane stretched between Foxglove's legs made it impossible to go far past her ankle, but everyone made the best of it.

CROW: By surgically removing said membrane.

Widget and Jürgen stepped out into the center of the room for their dance to what would thereafter be their song:

JOEL: The theme from "Sesame Street".

Bach's Toccata and Fugue in D Minor.

"Gadget's agreed to overlook

TOM: All of the attempts to kill her, kill her friends, and tarnish her family name.

CROW: She's a bit "loopy", remember?

converting the layout of Albacore," Jürgen whispered into his wife's ear.

TOM: [JÜRGEN] She'll be alone in the bowels of the sub tonight.

JOEL: [WIDGET] Excellent. Everything proceeds as planned.

"I know," Widget agreed. "She's rearranging things so we can share one big cabin."

JOEL: [WIDGET] She said something about how the new design "should" hold up under the water pressure, so there's nothing to fear, right?

Jürgen cleared his throat. "Maybe we should tidy up the meditation chamber before she starts work?" he suggested.

Widget blinked. "Omigosh."

JOEL: [WIDGET] I never said that word in my life.

When the dancing began, Chip had more or less made up his mind to sit it out

TOM: Aw... the "chips" are down for the poor guy. Hah!

CROW: Help me.

- his chances were reasonably low, and the submariners probably deserved first shot.

JOEL: Uh... let's just let that one go by, hmm?

TOM: Fair enough.

CROW: [sigh] If you insist.

Gadget cleared her throat, blinked at him, and grinned.

CROW: [GADGET] You know your fly's unzipped?

JOEL: Hey... that reminds me of someone... someone that we haven't seen in a while.

TOM: Yeah, I know what you mean. Oh well, I'm sure if it was important, Nowak would have mentioned it by now.

JOEL: Yeah, it's not like he doesn't care for any member of the Rangers.

"I can't give you every dance," she started apologetically.

CROW: [GADGET] Heck, I don't even want to.

"But I'd like to give you the first."

Suddenly worried, Chip looked for Tammy.

JOEL: Yeah, after being asked to dance by my dream girl, the first thing I do is look for another girl.

She was being swept off her feet by Mr. Calvert, and her teenaged ego was presumably safe for the time being,

TOM: Unfortunately.

despite her crush on Chip. Monty was moving out onto the floor with Tammy's little sister, Bink.

CROW: Oh. He found an intellectual equal, then.

Foxglove was towing Dale out, using his necktie as a choke collar.

CROW: You sure they aren't married?

JOEL: Not in this fanfic, anyway.

Andy the Mole had found a partner, and would presumably do his best despite the cast on his foot. At least he'd have a chance to talk with someone who wasn't aware he had been calling a superior officer "Mommy."

TOM: I can think of worse things to call a superior officer. Especially when they're still in earshot.

Chip bowed with a grin and gave her his arm.

TOM: Hey, now he's got something in common with Widget!

Soon Chip and Gadget were moving to the music

CROW: Hoping to break the CD player before the DJ noticed.

- Veteran of 1000 Psychic Wars by Devo

TOM: This is one wacked out wedding.

CROW: What did you expect? They're all still reeling from the effects of Prozac.

- and smiling at one another. Chip rested his cheek against hers, and closed his eyes for a moment although he was leading, smiling and breathing in the gentle aroma of machine oil and super glue he had come to treasure.

TOM: And the run-on sentences he had learned to tolerate.

Well, heck, he thought. The last time was only a dream.

CROW: But this time it's a nightmare! AAAAAAAAAA!

JOEL: Whoa, Crow! Wake up, wake up! It's over, we can go now!

CROW: Oh, thank God, Joel. Come on, I need to get a glass of water to wash this down.

[Door sequence run in reverse.]

[SoL]

[The main bridge is seen, but everything is in black and white. The contrast is dull, so things tend to blur together in only a few shades of gray. JOEL and the BOTS seem to lack any real enthusiasm.]

TOM: Oh, Joel... I just don't feel anything anymore. I mean, I've felt anger, sorrow, hate, and fear after going through these various experiments, but now I just feel... numb.

CROW: Yeah, it's like everything passionate within us has been sucked out and been replaced with leaden, colorless copies. Things are the same on the surface, but no life is here.

JOEL: We have been through the bowels of Ultimate Depression, my friends. That's what the problem is. This fanfic drained away everything vibrant and nourishing from our minds. Look, even Cambot was affected.

CROW: So how can we counter it?

TOM: Why should we bother? I mean, this life is nothing more than an ongoing gauntlet of despair and hopelessness, until the cold void of death wipes us all out.

JOEL: No guys, come on! We have to rally against this! This isn't the Nowakverse! It's close, but it's not the same thing! We have each other!

TOM: [rallying] Yeah...yeah! We do! The Mads shan't break us this easily. We need to figure out how to restore the color to our lives before they call.

CROW: But how? How can we defeat the encroaching darkness threatening to consume our souls?

JOEL: Wait! I know! This is going to be tough guys, but we can beat back the approaching sadness from this fanfic by twisting it into something fun and jovial. Then, it'll be too ashamed to even be seen around us!

TOM: It just might work! But Joel, how? How?

JOEL: Just follow my lead, guys. Cambot, hit it!

[Music starts in the background. JOEL straightens up as TOM and CROW flank him on both sides and begin singing to the tune of "Conjunction Junction".]

BOTS: Depression session, what's the lesson?

JOEL: Takin' down dreams and hopes and goodness

BOTS: Depression session, why this lesson?

JOEL: Because some depression is good to deflate your importance

BOTS: Depression session, what's our lesson?

JOEL: I got Pain, Angst, 'n' Strife
They'll hurt you like a knife
Pain! That's a mental trait, like "Life does suck"
Angst! That's emotional, like "Life sure sucks"
And then there's Strife! Bleak Strife
When you don't have a choice about how life sucks
Pain, Angst, and Strife makes you want to end your life!

BOTS: Depression session, what's the lesson?

JOEL: Splittin' up two sisters and making 'em then fight
Punch and jab, block and counter, slice and mark

BOTS: Hey that's dark!

JOEL: Pretty but deadly, roastin' and toastin'
Gougin' an eye, screamin' "You will die!"
They're smart but hateful, and they sigh,
"I cry, cry, cry, cry!"

BOTS: Depression session, what's the lesson?

JOEL: Showin' the world is bleak
When you see something like this hell:
Gadget wants to murder
Or worse hell:
Gadget attempts murder

BOTS: On her sister

JOEL: No love and hope
No peace and help
Never mind, we couldn't have that
We're sad enough now

BOTS: Depression session, what's the lesson?

JOEL: Puncturin' beliefs and ideals of goodness, by
Leaving helpless children in the river at birth
Sinking innocent ships and threatening kittens for mirth
Let's go look up our relatives and torture them to death
You should always thank others by stopping their breath

BOTS: Depression session, what's the lesson?

JOEL: Hooking up grief and sadness and despair in complex plotlines like:
In the mornings when I cry myself awake, I hate to
see others happy in their life and so I tell them, all I wanted was
a good life and home, but no -- instead I have no arm and my dad threw
me in the bay, although I know that I have no proof.

BOTS: Depression session, what's the lesson?

JOEL: Hookin' up bits of sad regression.

BOTS: Depression session, what's our lesson?

JOEL: I like tyin' up folks in their own entrails.

BOTS: Depression session, who's the lesson?

JOEL: I'm gonna write about Gadget weepin' and wailin'

BOTS: Depression session, what's the lesson?

JOEL: I'm going to write about Gadget tryin' and failin'.

[As they sing the last verse, the screen flickers for a moment, then snaps back to normal, in color. JOEL nods with a smile and pats the BOTS on the back, who are now cheering.]

TOM: All right, Joel! We did it!

JOEL: Of course we did, you guys. Why? Because we are a team, and we all work

together. It's what humanity is all about.

CROW: I thought it was all about winning the lottery....

[Red light flashes, JOEL hits it.]

JOEL: What do you think, sirs?

[GIZMONICS]

[FRANK and DR. FORRESTER are going over printouts and frowning. Stacks of paper surround them, and printers can be heard in the background.]

FORRESTER: Oh, Joel, listen we really don't have time to talk. That new hire of ours hasn't been working out too well.

FRANK: Hey, Dr. F., isn't this a lot of information concerning changing a light bulb? [reading from his printout] Be sure that globe of lumen generation has been deactivated, and is allowed time to properly slow its molecules down. Use the formula devised to calculate the rate of heat loss in a stationary environment, taking into account all variables concerning wind velocity and direction, proximity to secondary heat sources, and the current stability of the Chinese economy on beverages made from the product of tea plantations. If--

FORRESTER: [annoyed] That's enough, Frank! I know how complicated things have gotten down here since we took him on.

[SoL]

JOEL: Jeepers, you mean you two and Mr. Nowak aren't as compatible as you thought?

[GIZMONICS]

FORRESTER: Compatible? Oil and water is more compatible! You know he set up all the computer systems to play the funeral march on start-up?

FRANK: Not too mention the shutdown message; "It is now safe to release your computer from the tortured existence of life".

FORRESTER: I mean, we're evil, but this guy is downright anti-hope. The alert sounds have been switched to death knells.

FRANK: And that screensaver of the Little Mermaid getting caught in a tuna net? That's too depressing for even us.

FORRESTER: [on the verge of crying] The Little Mermaid, Joel -- he has her struggling to no avail as those unscrupulous, greedy, murderous tuna fisherman are hauling her up! It's just not natural!

[SoL]

JOEL: So, where is he now?

[GIZMONICS]

FORRESTER: Oh, we sent him out to get some pizza. We needed time to recover from his incessant speculation on the end of the universe.

FRANK: Are we really going to collide with Andromeda in five billion years?

[The door opens in the background, and JOHN enters, carrying a pizza box. "Torgo's pizza" is clearly seen on the top as he approaches.]

FRANK: Well, it took you long enough, not that we're complaining, really.

JOHN: Don't blame me, the service at the nearest place was incredibly slow.

FORRESTER: Wait a minute... [looks at pizza box] Oh, great! You had to pick Torgo's!

FRANK: [looking ill] Torgo's?!

JOHN: Why? [looks at them confusedly] What's wrong with Torgo's?

FORRESTER: Well they're-- [he stops, looks thoughtful, then smiles a bit too sweetly] They're just a little slow, that's all, but a favorite of ours, right Frank?

FRANK: [looking unsure] Uh, yeah, sure thing, Doctor F.

FORRESTER: Look, John, you've been doing such a swell job down here, why don't you help yourself to the pizza, hmmm? Frank and I really aren't as hungry as we thought, what with all this work to do.

JOHN: [pleased] Really? As much as I want?

FORRESTER: I insist!

JOHN: Gee, thanks guys, maybe I'll have to rethink my stance on how horrible the world is.

[He opens the box and grabs a slice. FORRESTER grins evilly at FRANK, who looks ill as he turns away, and presses the button right before JOHN takes a huge bite from the pizza.]

--- FWOOSH! ---

[End credits]

Mystery Science Theater 3000 and its related characters and situations are trademarks of and © copyright 199X by Best Brains, Inc. All rights reserved. Chip, Dale, Monterey Jack, Gadget, Zipper (when you can find him), Fat Cat, Foxglove, Tammy, Bink, and Geegaw (the dead character) are owned by Disney. Under the Bridge and all original characters are © copyrighted by John Nowak. Use of copyrighted and trademarked material is for entertainment purposes only; no infringement on the original copyrights or trademarks held by Best Brains, Inc. or anyone else is intended or should be inferred. This post is not, in any way, shape, or form, a personal attack on John Nowak. His stories are really very enjoyable, if a tad on the dark side. Oh, and the Grand Hall at Ellis Island is a good ways up from the ground, but Joel and the Bots weren't aware of that. This MiSTing is © copyright 1998 by John Nowak and Matt Plotecher.

But now he knew it for what it was he saw it, unmistakably if indistinctly, a long, slender shadow of slightly darker water fluttering in the waves.