Here's to Your Stealth
Part 1

TaleSpin and its characters are the property of Buena Vista/Disney Co. and are used without permission. All other characters are mine and cannot be used without permission.

Higher for Hire
April 1937

Ploop!

Baloo cast his hook, baited with a triple-action twisted wiggly, into the Cape Suzette harbor with the practiced ease of a seasoned professional. He let the fishing pole dangle lazily between his fingers and leaned back against the signpost at the end of the dock with a sigh of satisfaction.

"Shouldn't we be on our way to Hounsland by now?" Kit said, glancing uneasily at his watch, then over his shoulder at Higher for Hire. "Miz Cunningham said..."

"Cool your engines, Li'l Britches. We'll make it. Right now, we've got bigger fish to fry. Much bigger. This is the day that we're gonna catch Ol' Flippy."

Kit twirled the net in his hands as he watched the red-and-white bobber rise and fall on the gentle waves. "Who's Ol' Flippy?"

"Only the biggest fish in these here waters. Fishermen have been tryin' to snag him for goin' on twenty-five years. They say he's nigh on fifty pounds an' could chomp a hole the size of a bowling ball in a boat with one bite."

"He sounds more like a legendary sea monster than a fish," Kit said skeptically. He had seen too much in his twelve years to swallow that whopper.

"Nope, Ol' Flippy's definitely a fish an' a slippery fish at that. Fame and fortune await whoever gets him, an' I think today's the day. After all, it don't get any better than this." Baloo waved his large hand at their surroundings. "The sun is shinin', the birds are singin'..."

Hearing footsteps on the weatherbeaten dock, Kit turned to see a petite brown bearess approaching them. "The boss is coming."

"Ba-loo!"

The big grey bear cringed. Despite the fact that he had only worked for Rebecca Cunningham for a few months, he knew that that tone meant that he was in trouble. Again. He turned his back towards her, hoping that if he ignored her, she would disappear.

Unfortunately for him and his fishing plans, that didn't happen.

"Why is it that every time I see you, you're goofing off?" Rebecca assumed the most common pose that she used around her lazy pilot - hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

Baloo returned her scowl. "Fishin' ain't goofin' off. Fishin' is..."

"Making you late for your next pick-up." Pointing at her wristwatch, she said, "You were supposed to be in the air and on the way to Hounsland a half hour ago."

Baloo's attention returned to fishing when the end of his pole suddenly bent towards the water. Whatever was on the end of that line was so heavy that it was trying to yank the rod out of his hands. "Later, Becky, later. Right now, I got me a fish to catch." Excited, he stood and started to reel the line in, digging his heels into the dock to avoid being pulled into the harbor.

"You'll catch it if you don't get going. Give me that!" Rebecca wrenched the pole from his grasp, thereby yanking the hook out of the water. The humongous fish dangling from it slipped off and jumped back into the bay with a tremendous splash, drenching the three bears.

Water streaming from the bill of his baseball cap, Kit gaped a little at the size of the one that got away. "Was that...?"

"Sure was, Li'l Britches," the pilot replied, disappointed. His gaze was riveted to the ripples made by Ol' Flippy. "Sure was..."

Rebecca, even more angry now that she was soaked, wrung water out of her hair. "I want you two out of my sight now!"

"All right. All right." Baloo reclaimed his fishing pole, casting a dirty look at his boss. "C'mon, Kit."

The sodden pilot and navigator squelched their way towards the yellow seaplane moored nearby, leaving a trail of puddles in their wake.

Cupping her hands around her mouth, Rebecca called after them, "And don't drink the cargo!"

Hounsland
Several Hours Later

The Sea Duck splashed down in a placid lake near a picturesque alpine village where church steeples and rooftops pointed towards the clear blue sky. The verdant mountain rising behind the village was spread with a blanket of blue cornflowers interspersed between fragrant fir trees.

As Baloo guided the seaplane towards a stone dyke jutting out into the water, he said, "Ah, Hounsland. Home of the best polka, liverwurst, an' root beer in the world. Last time I was here, my quick pick-up turned into a week's pick-me-up. Brush up on your oom-pah-pahing, Li'l Britches, 'cause these Hounslanders like to party."

Baloo opened the back hatch and hurried down it, anticipating a good time. He stopped in his tracks when he noticed that the town was silent save for the chiming of the church bells. In fact, it seemed completely deserted.

"Some party," Kit said wryly.

"I don't get it." Confused, Baloo rubbed the back of his neck. Seeing a woman peering suspiciously at them from the second-story window of a nearby house, he called to her. "Hey, we're from outta town. Could you..."

Slam! went the window.

"Give us some info?" Baloo concluded lamely.

While Baloo and Kit stood on the stone dyke and wondered what they should do next, a truck pulled up next to them.

A canine truck driver, clad in baggy overalls and a cap with the bill pulled down to his sunglasses, got out of the vehicle. A muffled, "Guttentag," came through his long black beard.

"Hiya, pal," Baloo said with a friendly smile as he and Kit followed the driver to the rear of the truck. "Higher for Hire here to pick up a shipment of Wulff's Wunderbar Root Beer. Ready to roll out the barrel? The root beer barrel, that is."

When the man didn't reply, Baloo tried again. "Unloadin' cargo must be the wurst job in the world. Get it, wurst? As in bratwurst?" He chuckled wanly. Sensing that the driver was intent on his business, he asked seriously, "Say, ya want any help with them crates?"

"No."

"Whatever you say, mister." Baloo shared a look with Kit, who shrugged. They gave the driver a wide berth as he worked.

Wordlessly, the man transferred the crates containing bottles of root beer from the truck to the plane. Wordlessly, he handed Baloo a packing slip. Wordlessly, he clicked the heels of his boots together in a farewell salute, climbed into his truck, and drove away.

"I've gotten warmer receptions in Thembria," the pilot muttered, flipping the lever to close the back hatch. He and his young navigator squeezed through the maze of crates in the cargo hold in order to reach the cockpit.

Kit settled into the co-pilot's seat and spread the map across his lap. "Did you see that ring with the Swatzi symbol on his finger?" From what he had seen in the newsreels and read in the newspapers, he was becoming increasingly uneasy about the Swatzis and their doings.

"Can't say as I did, kid," Baloo replied, starting up the engines.

Kit glanced back at the cargo hold. He could hear the bottles clinking due to the plane's vibration. A thought crossed his mind: I wonder if it's safe to drink?

Meanwhile...

Kit's fears would have been confirmed if he could have seen the truck driver rip off his long black beard, revealing a brown goatee. He then removed his cap and sunglasses; a glint of triumph was in his intelligent eyes. He stuffed beard, cap, and sunglasses into the glove compartment. "That root beer will give a new meaning to that quaint Uslandian phrase - out of sight."

He chuckled a little as he started the truck.

The Sea Duck
A Little While Later

"Boy, my mouth is dry," Baloo said, smacking his lips. He set the 'autopilot', a crowbar slung across the control yoke. "I'm gonna go grab me one of them root beers. Want one?"

"No, thanks, and I don't think you should either. Remember what Miz Cunningham said about not drinking the cargo?"

"Don't worry. I'll pay her back." Baloo began rummaging in his shirt pocket for change. "One little ol' sody pop don't cost that much." Finding nothing but lint and a gum wrapper, he asked, "Uh...ya got a dime, partner?"

Kit sighed, thinking, How did I know that was coming? He pulled ten cents out of his pocket and flipped it into Baloo's outstretched palm.

"Moochus gracious," the big bear said, disappearing into the cargo hold.

Kit could hear the plink of a bottlecap as it hit the floor. Then, he heard noisy gulping followed by a reverberating burp! The boy shook his head, knowing the scolding that awaited them when they got home. When will Baloo ever learn?

A moment later, Baloo dropped into the pilot's seat, saying, "Take a gander at this, Li'l Britches. Wulff's got a new bottlecap. This'll be a honey for my collection."

When Kit glanced over at Baloo, his jaw dropped.

The bottlecap seemed to be tossing itself up and down in midair over the empty pilot's seat before flipping itself into Kit's hand. The boy blinked, rubbed his eyes, then stared again. "P-papa Bear?"

"Hey, what's wrong, Li'l Britches?" Baloo released the autopilot and hung the crowbar on the back of his seat. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

A bewildered Kit gulped. His gaze traveled from the crowbar, which had seemed to move on its own accord, to the bottlecap in his hand, to the empty pilot's seat. He gulped again. "I don't know what I'm seeing or not seeing."

"Whattaya mean?"

"I can't see you, Baloo." Kit fought to keep his voice even. His hand holding the bottlecap trembled slightly.

"Is this some sort of April Fool's joke? I'm sittin' right here. Large as life."

Kit's voice cracked when he said, "Are you sure?"

Baloo chuckled jovially and tousled the boy's hair. "Couldn't be surer."

Straightening his baseball cap, Kit suggested, "Glance in your side-view mirror."

"How come?"

"Just do it."

"You know that glass was shot out by Karny and his gang yesterday and Wildcat hasn't had a chance to fix it yet. "

"Okay, um, try this." Kit picked a spoon up off the floor and held it towards the pilot's seat.

Baloo took the spoon.

"See anything...unusual?" Kit prompted.

He got his answer when the Sea Duck began to plummet.

"Baloo, pull up! Pull up!" the boy yelled. His stomach sank as fast as the plane as he watched a forest rush up to meet them.

Yanking back on the stick reflexively, Baloo repeated, "I don't believe this! I don't believe this!"

"You can say that again," Kit said, panting a little from their near-miss. Looking out the window, he could see that there were a few leaves and branches dangling from the starboard pontoon.

"I don't believe this!" Baloo looked at his hands, but couldn't see them. "I'm...solid gone!"

"What could have happened?"

"Don't know. I was fine until I drank that root beer."

"The root beer!" pilot and navigator exclaimed simultaneously. They both then said, "Excuse me," when they collided into each other on the way back to the cargo hold.

Kit got a weird sensation in the pit of his stomach, as when the plane had suddenly dropped, when he saw a bottle of root beer rise up out of one of the crates and float in midair.

"Tasted like ordinary root beer to me."

"With a new secret ingredient," Kit pointed out.

"I can't be invisible," Baloo wailed. "Think of my image."

"Your image is going to be the least of your worries," Kit said, directing his speech towards the floating root beer bottle. "Think of what Miz Cunningham is going to say."

"Oh, man..."

Higher for Hire

When the Sea Duck gently bumped against the dock, Kit asked the question that had been on his mind for hours, "How are we gonna tell Miz Cunningham that her pilot is invisible?"

"Who says we hafta tell her?" Baloo said slyly.

"I think she's going to notice sooner or later, Baloo," the boy retorted. Sometimes he couldn't believe how naive this world-traveling pilot could be. He was only twelve, but it was obvious to him that they couldn't hide Baloo's invisibility from their boss.

"Let it be later, then. We'll hurry up and get this cargo unloaded, then I'm gonna get in some grade-A goofin' off without Miz Manager spyin' on me."

Knowing that he couldn't win this argument, Kit shrugged. "I'll go get the dolly." He ran up the dock into Higher for Hire's warehouse. Casting a glance through the open door connecting the warehouse and office, he could see Rebecca diligently digging through the filing cabinets with her back towards him.

He also noticed that the dolly was leaning against her desk instead of being in the warehouse where it belonged.

Why is nothing easy ever simple? Kit thought as he tiptoed crossed the office, grabbed the dolly's handle, and headed back towards the warehouse with the dolly squeaking behind him.

Just when Kit thought that he had avoided being stuck in the crossfire between Baloo's crazy schemes and Rebecca's scoldings, the file cabinet drawer slammed shut. The boy winced as if he had been shot. Busted! He went to race outside when...

"Oh, good, Kit, you're back," Rebecca said, placing a couple of files on her desk. "Where's Baloo? I need to talk to him."

"Haven't seen him, Miz Cunningham," Kit replied, truthfully enough. He glanced guiltily through the open warehouse door towards the Sea Duck.

"What do you mean, you haven't seen him? He just came back from Hounsland with you, right?"

"Sort of..." He nervously twisted his hands around the dolly's handle.

Rebecca's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "What do you mean, 'sort of'?"

Kit squirmed a little. Baloo was his best friend; therefore he wanted to stick up for him, even when he was doing something wrong. However, there was something in his boss's steady gaze that made him tell the truth.

Dropping his eyes, he stammered, "Um...you see, Miz Cunningham... Actually, you can't see. Jeepers. How should I explain this? Come here." He led her to the warehouse door where they could see a stack of four crates apparently floating themselves up the dock, toward the building.

When Rebecca was able to pick her jaw up off the floor, she exclaimed, "What is that?"

"Baloo. I guess you could say he's, um, invisible."

"WHAT?"

Rebecca and Kit watched as the crates magically drifted past them into the warehouse.

"Here we go," Kit muttered under his breath as Rebecca stormed over to the crates and grabbed Baloo's earlobe with unerring accuracy.

"Yeowch! Becky, what are ya doin'?" the big bear cried, nearly dropping the cargo.

"I could ask you the same thing," she gave his ear a savage pinch before releasing it. "How dare you be invisible?"

Putting the crates down, he said, "Trust me, this just happened."

Rebecca had the urge to give her pilot a satisfying kick in the rear. Out of all of the stunts that he had pulled to get out of working, this was the most outrageous. "Weather 'just happens'. The sun coming up in the morning 'just happens'. Invisibility doesn't 'just happen'!"

Kit interjected, "It does if you drink root beer."

"Root beer?" Rebecca exclaimed, becoming increasingly frustrated. "You expect me to swallow that story?" She made a move as if to strangle Baloo. However, he stepped aside just in time to avoid her attack, thus causing her to trip over the dolly and sprawl onto the floor.

"No story, boss lady," Baloo said, assisting her to her feet. "The root beer we picked up from Hounsland was laced with somethin'. One sip and I was sight unseen."

Kit nodded. "It's true."

"In that case, you saved Higher for Hire's reputation, not to mention a lot of people, by not delivering a dangerous product, Baloo," Rebecca said thoughtfully. Her anger abated as she dusted herself off. "But that still doesn't explain who would put an invisibility formula in root beer? And why?"

Wulff's Wunderbar Factory
The Really Black Forest, Hounsland

In a tiny, yet tidy lab full of bubbling beakers and chemical bottles, a German shepherd with a brown goatee, who looked suspiciously like the truck driver, bent over a lab bench. He was carefully adding a drop of a yellow liquid into a beaker of clear liquid. When the two chemicals combined, the beaker's contents sizzled and turned red, as red as the red on his Swatzi signet ring.

He gently swirled the beaker. "Only one more ingredient and another batch will be ready for those root beer swilling Uslandians. Und while they're dealing with their little invisibility problem, we Swatzis will take over the world!"

"Were your morning errands successful, Dr. Howlitz?" asked a young, portly German shepherd as he entered the lab.

Dr. Howlitz's immediately assumed a benign expression. He addressed his employer as if he were a favorite nephew. "Yes, Hansel. They were successful."

Hansel crossed the lab and picked up the beaker containing the red liquid. Pushing his wire-rimmed glasses up on his nose, he asked, "Is this for the next batch of root beer? It doesn't look quite right somehow."

"Don't touch that!" Dr. Howlitz barked, snatching the beaker from him. "I mean, it tastes terrible. Added too much sassafras by mistake. Bitter. Very bitter."

"You'll dispose of it, I hope. Father wouldn't like if we changed his root beer formula, and I wouldn't want to disappoint him, even now." Hansel glanced at a portrait above the door where an older version of himself beamed jovially down at him.

The young man then pulled an apple strudel out of his pocket and nervously bit into it, causing crumbs to litter the floor. "And when Father was alive, he never thought the factory needed guards or fences or..."

"Tch! You worry too much, my boy," Dr. Howlitz said soothingly. "These are uncertain times. Those things are merely a precaution to ensure that Wulff's will provide the same unparalleled products." He smiled sinisterly at the beaker in his hand. "Unparalleled indeed..."

Khan Towers
Cape Suzette

In the elevator on the way up to Shere Khan's penthouse office, Owen took a bottle of antacid out of his pocket, unscrewed the cap, and took a swig, grimacing at the chalky taste. The position of right-hand man to the wealthiest man in the world paid extremely well, but was giving him an ulcer. And his ulcer always bothered him more whenever he had to relay bad news to his boss.

When the elevator door opened, Owen took a deep breath before hurrying across the immense office towards the immense tiger behind the immense mahogany desk. "The soft drink reviews have just come in, sir."

Khan leisurely folded his newspaper and laid it neatly across his desk before saying one simple command: "Proceed."

"The good news is that in a nationwide taste test, your cola was preferred over all the other leading brands."

"And the bad news?"

Owen's tail twitched as he said tremulously, "But nine out of ten people still preferred Wulff's Wunderbar root beer."

Without a word, Khan's face darkened and his claws shot out and raked new gouges across the deeply scarred surface of his desk.

Feebly attempting to placate his employer, Owen mentioned, "Yours came in second."

Shere Khan shot Owen a withering look, one that made the scrawny tiger's knees knock. "In business, there is no prize for second place. There must be some way to obtain their secret recipe."

"But, sir, all of the spies that you've sent have been spotted and ejected," Owen timidly pointed out.

Khan scratched one claw thoughtfully on the arm of his chair. "What we need is someone who can't be spotted. How is Falcon Wing coming?"

"The tests are nearly complete, sir," Owen said readily, glad to relay some good news for a change.

"Excellent," Khan murmured with a hint of a satisfied smile. "If that is all..."

"Yes, sir." Owen quickly exited the office thinking that he hadn't seen Shere Khan this pleased since the invention of the sub-electron amplifier.

Back at Higher for Hire

A bowl of popcorn was rapidly disappearing thanks to Baloo, who was lounging in his favorite easy chair. "If Becky don't feather her props, she's gonna wear out the floor."

Kit, perched on the chair's arm, nodded as he watched their boss frantically pace the length of the room.

Rebecca was saying, "Once our clients find out that you're invisible, Higher for Hire will be out of business! No one will trust a pilot they can't see. Unless we can keep it a secret. Did anyone see you?" Before Baloo could say anything, she answered her own question: "Of course not. You're invisible." Gasping with realization, she added, "But they might have seen you carrying those crates and become suspicious." She ran to the door to look outside.

"The only thing suspicious around here is how you're actin'."

Rebecca slammed the door. "Invisible or not, I can still fire you, Baloo."

Kit broke in with, "Hey, Papa Bear, do you think Buzz could help you become un-invisible?"

"Don't see why not," Baloo said through a mouth full of popcorn. "He's come up with crazier things before."

Rebecca asked, "Who's Buzz?"

"A scientist pal of mine. Known him since I was a kid. He's workin' for Shere Khan now."

"Why didn't you mention that he could help you in the first place?" Rebecca said through gritted teeth.

Under his breath, Baloo said, "Couldn't get a word in edgewise, lady."

"What are you waiting for?" Rebecca seized the popcorn bowl and dragged Baloo towards the door in what appeared to be a one-sided version of tug-of-war. "Go see this Buzz and I don't care what it takes. The next time that I see you, I want to see you." Giving a big yank, she propelled Baloo through the doorway, popcorn bowl and all.

Picking himself up off of the flagstones, Baloo said, "Ya know what, Li'l Britches? Bein' invisible is a pain in the neck...an' the back...an' the head..."

Khan Towers
Buzz's Lab

A thick, red substance traveled through a roller coaster-like maze of thin, plastic tubing until it was met at a juncture by a yellow substance traveling in a second tube, thus combining to make an orange substance. Further down the tube, the orange substance was joined by a chunky green substance. At the bottom of the titration tubing, Buzz turned a knob, allowing a glob of the substance to drop onto a hot dog.

Buzz took a bite of the hot dog. "Hmm..." he smacked his beak thoughtfully. "The ketchup/mustard ratio is still wrong, but the relish is just right." He jotted something down in his lab notebook. He was so intent on his work that he didn't notice that he had visitors.

"Hi, Buzz," Kit said, peeking over the inventor's shoulder. "What are you working on?"

"It's a ketchup/mustard/relish dispenser, but after 86 hot dogs, I'm getting a little thirsty." Then the googly eyed scientist noticed what Kit held in his hand. "Root beer! Thanks!"

He was about to pop the cap off when Baloo shouted, "Don't drink it!"

Buzz looked at Kit. "That was a good imitation. You sounded just like Baloo."

"Because it is me, Buzz." Baloo tapped the inventor on the shoulder. "I'm right here."

"Oh, I see," Buzz said, nodding so that his tuft of feathers bobbed. Then he shook his head so that his feathers bobbed the other way. "Or rather, I don't. You're invisible, right?"

"Right in one guess. An' we need your help so's I can reverse this."

"Can you analyze this root beer and tell us what's in it?" Kit asked.

Squinting, Buzz read the label: "Carbonated water, corn syrup..."

"No, no, the invisibility formula in the root beer," Baloo said, becoming more than a little frustrated.

The scientist brought the bottle closer to his eyes. "I don't see any mention of invisibility formula."

Baloo slapped his forehead. He wondered how someone so brilliant could be so thickheaded. "'Cause it's a secret."

"If it's secret, why are you telling me?" Buzz said, bewildered.

Kit explained, "We think the Swatzis put a secret invisibility formula in the root beer."

Confused, Buzz asked, "And they told you about it?"

Kit shook his head, then said slowly, "We want you to analyze a sample of this root beer and see if there's any way to reverse Baloo's invisibleness."

Buzz held the bottle up to the light and studied it. After a moment, he smiled at Kit. "Sure. That should be doable. I just need to dig out my equipment." He set the root beer down on the lab bench and went to rummage through his cluttered closets.

At that moment, Shere Khan stepped into the room and picked up the bottle of root beer. "Provided that I will let him."

"How did you...?" Baloo yelped.

"I have my ways." Khan smiled mysteriously. "Come to my office, gentlemen. I would like to have a word with you in a more private atmosphere."

Several stories above, Shere Khan pushed a button to draw a set of heavy drapes over the humongous picture window, thus blocking out the view of the Cape Suzette cliffs bathed in moonlight. He then pulled a file folder out of his desk drawer, sat down, and slowly perused its contents as if he were trying to decide something.

From what Baloo and Kit could see, that folder contained airplane schematics.

Finally, Khan closed the file. "I've noticed that you have a unique problem, Mr. Baloo. An opportune problem."

"Wish the problem would disappear," Baloo mumbled.

"I am willing to help you with that," Khan said, returning the file to his desk drawer.

"Ya mean it?" Baloo said hopefully.

"If..."

"If?" Baloo and Kit echoed.

Khan folded his arms on his desk and leaned forward. "If you are willing to do something for me."

"Name it, Khanny. I'll do it."

"Yes...I thought you would." His expression was as tranquil as the all-knowing Sphinx. "My limousine will pick you up at midnight tonight. You will be given further instructions then."

"Thank you, Mr. Khan," Kit said quietly. He wasn't exactly happy. Something about that deal was as fishy as Ol' Flippy.

However, Baloo was nothing but relieved. He vigorously pumped Shere Khan's hand. "Yeah, thanks a million, Khanny."

After the elevator doors had closed behind the two bears, Shere Khan picked up the root beer bottle with a smug smile. "No, thank you..."

End of part 1