Talespin: Sacrificial Wrongs
by: Marie Kelly
Chapter 1
The characters and settings from TaleSpin belong to the Walt Disney Company and are used without permission. The characters and settings not from TaleSpin belong to me and are used with permission.
The moon hung low in the sky, a waning blood orange crescent that was cold…wan…dead. It was all the light provided to the land, save some paltry man-made flames, and it hung atop the volcano, which intermittently spat forth plumes of black smoke, obscuring the light.
The maiden, a lioness, lifted her arm above her head, fingers outstretched, letting the water drip down her arm. She could hear them coming. In fact, she was somewhat surprised that the monks had not come earlier. She would not leave the springs, she decided.
There were ten monks, all lions with shorn heads, clothed in pure white robes. Their cedar shoes had a thick cork sole, to prevent the robes from getting dirty. The monks placed thick purple sheets upon the ground.
The head monk pulled his robe over his eyes and stepped forwards, hands clasped deferentially. In a practiced move, the other monks placed their foreheads upon the ground, arms stretched out in front of them.
"Milady Wurdyne Most High of the First," began the head monk, and other monks echoed the title. He bowed several times, his forehead touching the ground. "I would not dream of questioning you—"
"Then don't!" snapped Wurdyne. "Or, if you will, just do it without that pathetic crap you just spouted out."
The monk bit his lip and swallowed his pride. "The moon is nearly new. Perhaps you shouldn't be taking a bath?"
Wurdyne slowly raised her left brow. "I am not 'taking a bath', as you so quaintly put it," she explained, her voice low and soft. "This is a ceremonial cleansing."
The head monk bowed several more times, and then spoke again. "Milady Wurdyne Most High of the First, forgive my impertinence, but I am unaware of any such ceremonial cleansing that—"
"Just because you are ignorant," snapped Wurdyne, "does not mean that it does not exist!"
"The Outsider has to be brought here before the new moon or else we're all doomed! You're taking this far too lightly!"
"Do not raise your voice to me," growled Wurdyne, her translucent green yellow eyes flashing. "I have never once failed in my mission, and I have no intention of starting now. If you absolutely must bother somebody, bother my sister. After all, I am only going to bring the Outsider here. She's the one who has to return him later."
The head monk clenched his fists and bowed. "Milady Wurdyne Most High of the First, your words do ring true. The Lady Shelorna Most High of the Second is in need of our assistance. We shall leave you now. Please, keep your word and do not neglect your duty." With that, the monks left.
Wurdyne sighed heavily, inhaling thick, sulfuric air. Thank goodness. It was quite a relief that they were gone. The monks had a tendency to be far too nosy. Had they decided to follow her, the chances of her being successful at her own mission would have been severely limited. The lioness stood up and exited the hot spring.
She walked purposefully towards her dwelling, a small hut with a blackened, thatched roof. A sheet of undyed sheepskin was stretched across the entrance. As the one who would bring the Outsider to the land, she was not permitted to live otherwise. Tradition held that only an austere life would ensure that she did not stray from her duties. Wurdyne smirked as she pushed the curtain aside and entered.
Smokeless embers filled a pit in the center of the room. Wurdyne prodded them with a stick, causing them to flame up. The fire might be magical and smokeless, but it still needed to be tended. She hoisted the Fire Stick in her hand, inspecting it. The center was cedar, around which was entwined maple and ebony. It would be sufficient, Wurdyne smiled. She donned the proper outfit, a simple powder blue dress, and, carrying the Fire Stick, left for the Outside.
Mad Dog sighed loudly, stretching his legs out in front of him. "I'm bored," he whined.
Dumptruck straightened his bellhop's hat. Both he and Mad Dog were clothed in the uniforms of employees at the Bearaton Hotel, which had been stolen from two bellhops who were left bound, gagged, and dumped in a closet. "But Mad Dog," he explained patiently. "Der captain said ve had to—"
"I know!" snapped Mad Dog, "but I'm still bored. I'm itchy and tired and bored. I've been sitting her for hours."
Dumptruck shook his head. "Mad Dog, it's only twelve thirty. Ve got here at noon. It's not that long." His ability to tell time was a matter of great pride to the large, gray canine.
"Yeah, well, it seems a lot longer than that," Mad Dog reluctantly conceded.
"Excuse me, but could you—"
"Can't you see the suitcases here?" Mad Dog snapped.
"Yes." Dumptruck was surprisingly polite. "Ve're waiting for somebody, so you'll have to get somebody else to help you."
The lioness who had spoken raised her left brow. "Actually," she explained dulcetly, gesturing to the pay phones behind the two pirates, "I would like to make a phone call. Perhaps you'd like to move?" She smiled patiently.
"No," answered Mad Dog. "Use the front desk."
The lioness's translucent green yellow eyes flashed. "I would like to make a phone call," she hissed, "and I would like to like to make it right here. Is that perfectly clear?" She glared at the two men, who glanced at each other and shuffled, albeit reluctantly, to the side.
"Thank you," the lioness smiled sweetly. "I appreciate your moving." She picked up the phone and dialed.
"What do you think that is?" whispered Mad Dog, gesturing to the wrapped package the lioness carried.
"Hello, my name is Diana Lyden," said the lioness, as Dumptruck replied, "a stick."
"A stick?" Mad Dog scoffed. "Are you an idiot?"
"Vell, it looks like a stick," Dumptruck whispered defensively.
"Vell, it looks like a stick," Mad Dog mimicked. "What kind of idiot carries a stick around?"
Dumptruck raised his voice. Mad Dog always bothered him. "I don't know, vhat kind of idiot carries a stick around?"
People stared at them, and Mad Dog shushedDumptruck with a, "you moron, you want people to stare at us?"
"It's worth half a million dollars, and I'll pay you half that plus expenses to ship it." The lioness's voice was low and soft, but the pirates couldn't help but overhear. They got quite silent, listening carefully.
"Yes," the lioness nodded. "I can be at Higher for Hire in an hour. Directions? Yes, that is a good idea. No, I wouldn't like to get lost." She repeated the directions out loud. "Well, it will be wonderful to do business with you, Miss Cunningham. Thank you. Goodbye." The lioness hung up the phone and left, carrying the wrapped package with her.
"Did you hear that?" Mad Dog whispered excitedly. "That stick she's carrying is worth half a million dollars. We have to take it!" He rubbed his hands together gleefully.
"No, der captain said ve were to wait for the Princess of Welthonia so ve could kidnap her," protested Dumptruck.
"I don't see the princess anywhere, do you?" sneered Mad Dog. "I'm tired of waiting. You kidnap her. I'll take the stick."
"Hey!" Dumptruck knew that was quite unfair. "Vhy don't you kidnap the princess and I'll take thestick?"
"Because I'm more bored than you are!"
"Are not!" Dumptruck retorted.
"Am—" Mad Dog decided to try flattery. "Oh, you'd be so much better than me at kidnapping. I really couldn't possibly do it. Please, kidnap Princess Mora Dolores?" His voice was thick, syrupy, and made him want to retch. Still, it did the trick as Dumptruck agreed to wait for the princess while Mad Dog followed the lioness.
The large gray bear, dressed in a yellow shirt and pilot's cap, stood over his petite boss and groused.
"Come on, Beckers, you promised I could have the day off."
"This is a business, Baloo, and a business exists to make money. Miss Lyden'll make us a lot of money." Rebecca Cunningham replied, straightening the sheet of papers on her desk. She cast a critical eye around the room. There was so much…junk…around the place. "And I just bought a some file drawers," she mumbled under her breath. "How come they're all full already?" She picked up a feather duster and began dusting.
"I was gonna go to Louie's."
"I'm sure you'll go anyway." Rebecca dusted Baloo's face, and Baloo sneezed. Noticing what she had done, Rebecca chuckled and relaxed. "Sorry," she apologized. "I know I promised, but business is slow, and we're almost in the red. Miss Lyden's job will definitely save some worrying about the bills. Plus," she added, "You just might get a raise."
Baloo ignored his boss's last remark. "Who spends two hundred fifty thousand on one lousy shipment?"
"Rich people spend two hundred and fifty thousand dollars on one lousy shipment. And if they spend that much on one shipment, they're likely to spend that much on more shipments, so it's important that we make Miss Diana Lyden happy."
"In truth, I shall pay two hundred and fifty thousand dollars, plus expenses," a deep, rich voice with the slightest trace of an accent said.
Guiltily, Rebecca spun towards the voice. A tall, regal lioness, wearing a fetchingly stylish powder blue dress, with blonde hair pulled back into a chignon, and translucent green yellow eyes stood in the doorway of Higher for Hire, clutching cloth-wrapped, cylindrical object.
"Miss Lyden!" Rebecca blurted. "I'm so sorry you had to hear that. You're not just a rich person," she babbled, apologizing, and inwardly kicked herself. How could she have been so rude? She continued apologizing, leading the lioness towards the chair.
"Miss Cunningham," Wurdyne gently placed her hand over Rebecca's own. She smiled warmly. "Please, don't worry about it. I chose Higher for Higher for a reason." She sat down, and turned to speak to Baloo. "You do have a point, sir. Spending such a large amount of money on one shipment is rather ridiculous."
"Hey," Baloo countered. "I never said it was ridiculous!"
"Perhaps, you thought so, correct? I'd think the same, myself. It is ridiculous to spend such an amount of money on one shipment," Wurdyne agreed. "This, however, is a most important item." She unwrapped the package, letting the wrappings fall to the floor.
Rebecca let loose an involuntary gasp. The stick was absolutely beautiful, and smelled splendid, sweet and rich. She involuntarily reached out to touch it. Baloo, however, wasn't quite so impressed. "It's just a stick. It doesn't look like it's that valuable."
"This," Wurdyne explained, "is the walking stick of the kings of Aidira."
"If it belongs to kings, what are you doing with it?"
"Baloo!"
"I run a curio shop, and I came across it," stated Wurdyne. "I was quite excited as I am from Aidira, and so the traditional walking stick of our royalty was quite the find, especially since it has been missing for three hundred years, ever since the last king was deposed. My sister is the curator of the Aidira's museum, and so I decided it would be best to have you send this to her. And, of course, Higher for Hire was clearly the best choice."
Rebecca smiled, pleased. "Well, we always strive to please our customers, and I'm glad our reputation is so good."
"Well, I need an excellent pilot, and the choices came down to either Baloo or one of Shere Khan's. I would prefer not get involved with Mr. Khan unless absolutely necessary. Since you, too, are a small business owner, I hope you can understand my feelings on the matter."
Rebecca nodded. Shere Khan was, at times, simply too impressive.
"Besides," Wurdyne added, "Baloo really is a far superior pilot to any of Khan's men, and the trip may be a dangerous one. Aidira is a mountainous land to the west of Aridia."
"Hey, hold on sister!" Baloo scoffed. "I've been to Aridia, and there ain't no mountains there."
"You can't actually see the mountains from Aridia," explained Wurdyne. "However, Aridia is the closest country to Aidira. Aidira has been self-sufficient for thousands of years, since there are sandstorms, which can come up at any time. They're completely random, and enough to cut off Aidira from the rest of civilization, except for a few minor exceptions, such as myself. Of course, modern radio and telephone communications have allowed me to keep in contact with my dear sister. Now," she became serious. "There are some rules which absolutely must be kept to, or you will not get the job."
Wurdyne began counting off her demands. "One: The item must be delivered to my sister, Cira, in person. We're identical twins, so she looks exactly like me. She is, however, somewhat absentminded at times. Two: Since it is such a valuable item, I would have to insist that there be two people to deliver it."
Rebecca frowned. "I'm afraid I won't be able to make it. I've got to take care of Molly and run the business—"
"Oh, dear," Wurdyne pursed her lips. "It is utterly important that two people deliver this. Are you certain you can not make it?"
Rebecca paused. When she finally spoke, her words were full of regret. "I am so sorry, but I can't leave Molly alone. Plus, bills are due and if I don't get to the bank they'll foreclose on the loan."
Calmly, Wurdyne stood up. "I am terribly sorry to hear that, Miss Cunningham. I wish you the best of luck in your future endeavors. " She slowly turned and walked towards the door.
"WAIT!" Rebecca stood up quickly, her hands clutching the edge of the desk. She wouldn't…she couldn't…let this one go. "Miss Lyden, please don't leave. I'm certain we can work something out. It's not necessary to go to Shere Khan, is it? I'm sure we can work something out," she repeated, desperately. She could not let such a lucrative deal slip through her fingers.
Wurdyne clicked her tongue. "I am sorry Miss Cunningham, but I simply won't budge on this matter. There must be two people delivering the package. Perhaps, however, there is somebody aside from yourself who might be able to do it?" Wurdyne let her voice trail off.
Rebecca's eyes lit up, and Baloo frowned. He knew that look. "Yes!" she said, happily. "We do have somebody! Kit can do it."
"Kit?" Wurdyne noticed Baloo glaring at Rebecca. She feigned confusion. "Who is she?"
"He," Baloo said, quickly before Rebecca could speak. "Kit Cloudkicker. He's my navigator. And he's too busy to do this. So, sorry, lady. Looks like you'll have to go to Shere Khan's."
"Baloo!" Rebecca cried. She turned towards Wurdyne and smiled, apologetically. "Please excuse us for a moment, Miss Lyden."
"Of course." Wurdyne clasped her hands in front of her and nodded gracefully. "Take all the time you need, Miss Cunningham."
"Baloo," Rebecca smiled a thin, pursed lip smile. "You will deliver the package. Kit will deliver the package. I own the Sea Duck," she added, somewhat threateningly.
Instinctively, Baloo's hands balled into fists. Rebecca could be so annoyingly stubborn where money was involved. One lousy day off. Was that too much to ask for? Noticing Diana Lyden's eyes upon him, Baloo unclenched his fists. "I'll do it," he conceded.
"Good!" Rebecca clapped her hands together, cheerful. "That wasn't so difficult, now was it? Now to tell Miss Lyden the good news."
"I'll do it," Baloo repeated. "However, Kit can't. He's not here today, remember? He went out with his friends."
Neither Baloo nor Rebecca noticed Wurdyne's eyes widen slightly and a faint shadow cross her expressions, turning her quickly, and most transiently, into something wild, cruel, and hungry. It appeared, Wurdyne decided, that she would have to change her plans. "Miss Cunningham?" she spoke, warm and polite.
"I'm sorry Miss Lyden," Rebecca apologized. She forced out her words, painfully. "I'm afraid we'll have to decline. Higher for Hire can't—" her voice stuck. "We can't comply with your request. We're sorry." She elbowed Baloo, who reluctantly apologized.
Wurdyne shook her head sadly. "That is quite all right, Miss Cunningham. I am afraid that I am the one who wasted your time. However," she lowered her voice, "may I offer a bit of advice?"
Rebecca nodded.
"This Kit person. Now that I think about it, he is the Kit Cloudkicker I've read about upon occasion in newspaper articles? I think they call him a…" Wurdyne bit her lip thoughtfully, "twelve year old aviation genius?"
"That's him," Baloo said proudly.
"Don't be mad at him. I would simply hate it if I were responsible for any unjust anger. He's still a child, and should have plenty of time to play with his wonderful friends."
"Wonderful," Baloo scoffed. "If Ernie's wonderful than I'm the Queen of Sheba. Don't know how Kit stands that kid."
"Baloo!" Rebecca scolded, and Wurdyne made a note to remember that name, Ernie.
"Good day, Miss Cunningham," Wurdyne said goodbye. "I fully intend to use Higher for Hire for other shipments that aren't quite as stringent as—"
"I'm back." Kit opened the door and walked in.
"Kit!" Baloo's face dropped. That kid's timing was completely off. "What happened to Ernie's?" He could practically feel Rebecca's bright, excited smile.
"Oh, that," replied Kit, shrugging. "His grandmother came to visit for the week. He tried to sneak out, but his mom caught him and sent me home."
"Since you're here, Kit," said Rebecca, "There's a little job that I'd like you and Baloo to go on if you wouldn't mind." Despite her phrasing, her tone made it clear that it was not a request.
"Sure," Kit replied easily, and Baloo groaned.
Wurdyne permitted herself a small sigh of relief and returned to her seat. The lioness smoothed her hair and said, "Now, my dear sister, bless her heart, has decided to go on vacation starting the day after tomorrow, and so it must be delivered within twenty-four hours. This means that you'll have to leave within one hour and there can be no dawdling until it has been delivered. However, if you would like to visit Aridia afterwards, I will be happy to pay for it, as expenses."
Baloo smiled. "Ya know, lady, you're not half bad." Rebecca, however, pursed her lips. "You shouldn't encourage such behavior. It'll cost so much money."
"I will pay the expenses," Wurdyne repeated. "Certainly, ten thousand dollars will be enough to cover everything, including gas. So you shall receive a total of two hundred sixty thousand dollars, with one hundred thirty of it payable immediately. My sister will hand over the balance upon delivery. I shall inform her that delivery must be by both Kit Cloudkicker and Baloo only. Is that acceptable to you?" Rebecca nodded, and Wurdyne wrote out a check for the aforementioned amount. She wrapped up the stick, thanked Baloo and Rebecca, left Higher for Hire, and vanished.
The pirate captain, Don Karnage, leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin thoughtfully. "So, Mad Dog, my pathetic plunderer, it would appear that Baloo is delivering some most important cargo, yes-no?"
"Yes, cap'n," Mad Dog groveled, as Gibber, a short, stocky pirate, came over and whispered into Karnage's ear.
"Princess who? What are you—oh, you mean the silly goose type person who sits in the poison ivy and has the nasty red itch all over her body?" Karnage waved his hand dismissively. "Who cares about her?" He certainly did not, not since he discovered, to his immense disappointment, that the princess came from a dirt-poor kingdom and was in Cape Suzette to beg a loan for her country. Somebody like that could not possibly benefit him.
"No," he decided, "Baloo's cargo is far more interesting."
"So, we're gonna steal it, huh, cap'n, huh, huh?" Hacksaw, a scruffy yellow canine leaned forward, his body fairly twitching and his eyes darting about.
"No, you idiot!" Karnage backhanded Hacksaw. "Now, please be kind enough to sit over there and do not interrupt your stupendous capitan while he is talking. Normally I would steal it from that miserable bear, I have decided that I will let him deliver it instead!" Karnage paused, waiting for his men to ooh and ah over his plan, and perhaps ask for more details. When he was met with only silence, he cleared his throat and resumed speaking.
"If I am letting Baloo deliver it, he will get one hundred and thirty thousand dollars. I can then plunder him of the money, and become most richer myself. I can also steal the king's walking stick and sell its jewels." He smiled proudly.
"Cap'n?" Mad Dog's whine was hesitant. "I don't think it actually has any jewels."
"What are you talking about, you dunce? It belonged to kings. Of course it has jewels. Now, let us away, men. We have to make it to Aidira before the Sea Duck. Oh, and please avoid those nasty sandstorms."
The desert stretched below the Sea Duck, its undulating golden dunes stretching forth, melting quietly into the azure sky. It was a magnificently awe-inspiring sight.
Or at least it had been five hours ago. Now it was just more of the infernal sameness. They had passed over Aridia four hours ago, and Baloo's story of what had happened there had kept him entertained for a short while, but that seemed like an eternity ago. Kit Cloudkicker slumped down in his seat and sighed. It hadn't been a mistake letting Molly balance on his board. It had been a mistake forgetting to take it with him when he left for this trip.
Baloo glanced over at Kit. "Hey, li'l Britches, ya hungry?"
"Huh, what?" Kit started, and groggily looked at Baloo. "No, I'm fine."
Baloo patted his stomach. "Well, I haven't had a bite to eat we flew over Aridia. Ol' Baloo's sure starving."
"Starving!" Kit interjected. "You had three hero sandwiches and an entire pizza!"
"Well, I could use a snack." Baloo stood up. "Take the stick, Little Britches."
"Huh?" That didn't quite register. "You want me to fly the Sea Duck?" The Sea Duck was Baloo's baby, and he was loathe to let anybody else, including Kit, fly it.
"Sure." Baloo pushed his cap up somewhat. "She won't fly herself. Besides, you've watched me enough."
Kit didn't hesitate any further, and he slipped into the pilot's seat. It felt natural, like it was his, and he gripped the stick in his hands. His breathing quickened, and his eyes gleamed. This was truly where he belonged. He enjoyed navigating, but flying—oh, that was it. Everything was right and natural. He didn't even notice Baloo returning to the navigator's seat, holding only a single bottle of grape fizzy.
"Everything ok, little britches?" Baloo leaned back and took a large swig of his fizzy pop. "Yer not bored anymore, are ya?"
"Bored? I was never bored!" Kit protested. "I can't be bored in the Sea Duck!" He was aware of how weak his words sounded, and so he continued. "I love navigating! I wasn't bored! I was just…" Kit let his voice drop off. "Papa Bear, why do you think that Miss Lyden insisted that there be two to bring it?"
"She's rich. Rich people do weird things."
Kit frowned, noticing some mountains in the distance, and turned the plane. "We're going to be landing in a half hour."
"Now, I'll land the plane, li'l britches."
"Ok." Kit wasn't about to complain. It was strange. Now that his thoughts were no longer focused on how incredibly bored he was, he found himself suspicious about their delivery. "Something isn't right here, Baloo."
"What do you mean, li'l britches?"
"I don't know." Kit shrugged. "It's just…wrong." That was it. Baloo was probably right. Rich people were often eccentric. Besides, he reasoned, there was nothing all that unusual about the rules for this delivery.
"Ok, Kit, time's up," said Baloo, and he and Kit switched seats.
"Papa Bear, after we deliver it, can we leave right away?"
Baloo scratched his head. "Sure, Kit. But you've never really cared about gettin' out right away—unless ol' Beckers wants us back."
"I just want to visit Aridia," Kit lied, as the Sea Duck landed. Baloo chuckled, "You'll love Aridia! Oh, I'll have to introduce you to Myra while we're there!"
The air outside the plane was stifling and dead. "Phew! Place's hotter than the inside of a volcano! Come on, let's go find the museum so we can give it to Cira and go home."
"All right." Kit shuddered as he grabbed the package and followed Baloo. He did not like this place. The air was too still, too hot, for someplace nestled in the mountains. And there was no greenery. Mountains almost never rose up entirely out of sandy desert. There was some sort of graduation in the soil. He took a look at the village—a shantytown was more like it, with small, shadowless, one-room huts placed almost haphazardly around. If, when he next blinked his eyes, the entire village and mountain vanished, it would seem more natural.
"Hey, lady!" Baloo called to a female panther. "Where's the museum?"
The woman continued to walk, and ignored him. "Nice lady," Baloo muttered, and asked a tall, portly warthog the same question. The warthog stopped, glancing around searchingly. He smoothed his moustache, and waved at the panther, who smiled, ran towards him, and kissed him.
"Well, I'm not gonna deny them that, but they didn't have to almost knock me down running towards each other."
Kit shifted his weight. "Baloo, let's just deliver this and get out of here. Something's not right. I want to leave."
Baloo turned away from a petite turtle. "People in this town are so rude! Can't even get a single person to say hello."
"Hello! Hi! You must be Baloo and Kit!" A familiar looking tall lioness jumped up and down, waving frantically, her blonde hair haphazardly pulled into a braid, thick tortoiseshell glasses slipping down her nose. "I'm Cira Lyden!" she yelled. "Come on, the museum's here!"
Kit and Baloo followed the lioness into a small building, with a small plate on the door declaring it to be the "Museum of Aidira." "Baloo," whispered Kit. "This place looks worse than yours." The entire room was cluttered with papers and bric-a-brac, a great deal of which was broken and worthless appearing. "What kind of museum is this?"
"Oh, it's not a museum yet!" Since there were no chairs, Wurdyne sat down on the floor and held out her hands expectantly. Kit handed her the package, and Wurdyne unwrapped it.
"Perfect!" she giggled. "I'm so happy! You know, this museum'll really help us. I mean, once it's up and running. I managed to get this really nice space, an' I'm gonna have everything organized. Well, someday." Wurdyne glanced around sheepishly. "My sister says I should be more responsible." She began rooting around the piles of junk on the floor. "I put your payment here someplace safe, so I could find it right away. Just give me a sec, 'k? It won't take long. Did you have trouble finding the place. I kind of told my sister the museum was all done, so you might have been expecting something more…furnished…than this."
"No," said Kit, as Baloo said, "Well, now that you mention it, finding this place wasn't easy. People in Aidira aren't very friendly."
"Sorry about that. We're not really used to foreigners, so a lot people here are kinda rude until they get to know you. But they can be really friendly. The museum'll probably give us lots of tourists visitin' and we won't be alone anymore. Worked for Aridia. Ah-ha!" Grinning broadly, Wurdyne pulled out a red envelope. "Here it is! I knew I put it somewhere around here." She handed the envelope to Baloo, who cried, "yow!"
"Baloo!" cried Kit.
"I'm all right," said Baloo, "just a paper cut." He then opened the envelope, half expecting tosee some used birthday cards inside instead of money.
"Well, Cira, it's been a blast, but we gotta skedaddle."
"Ok!" Wurdyne chirped, waving. "Once the museum is open, be sure to visit it, ok?" She continued waving, smiling madly, until both Kit and Baloo had left, when she dropped her arm. She would stay in this room a little while longer, though.
A knock—forceful and rapid—came to the door. Wurdyne casually touched the stick and it melted quietly into the air in twisting smoke that smelled, inexplicably, like hyacinth. It had served its purpose.
The knock, this time even more harsh and determined, came again. Wurdyne pushed her glasses up her nose, stood on her tiptoes, and waved her hand. It would not do to refuse her invited guests entry. "Come in!" she cried, bouncing on the balls of her feet.
"Greetings, timorous future victim! 'Tis I, thatphenomenal purloiner, Don Karnage!" The pirate captain posed grandly in the door, his body silhouetted. Once he was certain that she was properly awed, he moved purposefully inside the building, followed by Mad Dog and Dumptruck.
Wurdyne assumed an expression of naive confusion. "Who?" she asked innocently.
Don Karnage tensed. She certainly had a lot of nerve, pretending she didn't know who he was. Everybody knew him. He reached for his sword, then checked himself. It would not do for him to lose his temper now. "She needs to get her visionary checked," he chortled to Mad Dog and Dumptruck. He waited for their appreciative laughter, but it didn't come.
"Hey," whined Mad Dog, glaring suspiciously at Wurdyne. "Don't I know you from somewhere?"
Wurdyne bit her lip and feigned consideration of that remark. "No…well, maybe," she finally admitted. "I'm kind of…bad with faces," she giggled.
"Hey!" Dumptruck had a rare moment of genius. "Ve saw you at The Bearaton."
"Yeah!" agreed Mad Dog. He jabbed Wurdyne in the chest. "You were there."
"Oh no!" Wurdyne gasped. Her eyes widened, she covered her mouth with her hands, and stared at the three men, focusing the longest on Don Karnage. She collapsed to her knees, choking out, "That means that you're—you're—." Tears ran down her face and she frantically rubbed at them, all the while sobbing, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Karnage smirked. He forgave her earlier transgression, for she was in her place now. She knew him, and was properly awed and cowed by his presence. He unsheathed his sword and began casually inspecting it. "Now, Miss Lyden, you have just received a delivery from the Sea Duck, yes-no?" He smiled expectantly.
Wurdyne drew in a shuddering breath and nodded.
"Give it to me," he ordered.
"Give it to you?" echoed Wurdyne.
"Yes, yes, yes, give it to me!" Karnage snapped, impatiently. "The royal walking-type stick. Give it to me!"
Wurdyne giggled nervously. "I don't have it," she confessed.
Karnage touched the tip of his sword to Wurdyne's throat. "I have been very, very patient, and I know the Sea Duck delivered it here. Now, I want that stick!"
"I really don't have it anymore. The Sea Duck has it. I decided it would be best to loan it to the Cape Suzette museum. Well, I didn't decide it, Sissy did. Her name isn't really Sissy, but I call her Sissy, because she's my sister," babbled Wurdyne.
"What are you talking about?" Karnage narrowed his eyes.
"Well, you know," Wurdyne picked at some lint on her dress. "Sissy radioed me to tell me that she thought it best to donate it temporarily to the Cape Suzette Museum, 'cause it's bigger and more people would see it and then maybe decide Aidira might be nice to visit. But there are sandstorms, you know, and they tend to cut off radio transmission, make it hard to hear and everything, so I must have missed what she said."
"So what?" Mad Dog whined, and, shamefacedly, Wurdyne continued explaining: "My sister obviously asked you to deliver the package back to Cape Suzette for her. I mean, it wouldn't be fair for the Sea Duck to have to do all that extra, unplanned work. I mean, I personally don't know you very well, because all my information about the outside world comes from Sissy. But you're honest and trustworthy."
The air pirates laughed.
"What's wrong?" cried Wurdyne. "I don't know you personally, but I know you're honest and trustworthy! You're handsome, and handsome people are never evil!" Wurdyne concluded triumphantly. She then put her face in her hands and, once again sobbing, said, "I don't know what I'll do if Sissy finds out. She trusted me so much, and I broke her trust."
Karnage gave the lioness an expression of calculated sympathy. "My dear Miss Lyden, you have absolutely nothing to worry about. If your sister does not find out, then I can see no problem, sí? As a matter of facts," he said, resheathing his sword, "It is not too late for my glorious self to catch up with Baloo and take back the walking stick."
"Really?" gasped Wurdyne, clasping her hands together. "But I don't think Sissy told them about you. They didn't say anything when I asked them to take it back to Cape Suzette."
"Miss Lyden, that miser—er, Baloo and I are old bon amis, yes-no?" The pirate smiled genteelly. "I will take that stick from him," he concluded, a modicum of cold, hard greed escaping from his voice. He then cleared his throat and said, in an off-hand way, "Perhaps I could be of some assistance to you? It is considered rather proper for a country to have more than one exhibit in the Cape Suzette Museum. If there were very many expensive things in the museum, then people would realize what a wonderful place Aidira is."
"Sissy wouldn't be angry at me, because I'd be helping her out!"
"Yes, yes." The wolf moved in for the kill. "And I would be most happy to deliver those artifacts…for a small fee, of course," he offered generously.
"A small fee?" repeated Wurdyne.
"Yes," agreed Karnage amicably. "I must be able to pay for fuel. Surely you can afford, say, five thousand dollars?"
"Five thousand dollars just for fuel?" gasped Wurdyne. "It's such an awful lot of money. But—" determinedly, she stood up. "It's for Aidira and Sissy, so it's a small price to pay!"
"Grazie." The pirate captain bowed and cast a cool, calculated eye about the room. He supposed that some of it might have some sort of sentimental value, but there was clearly nothing of monetary value, just worthless bric-a-brac from some uncharted little nothing country. "I am afraid, Miss Lyden, that I cannot see anything here that would be suitable for Cape Suzette. Perhaps you would be so kind as to give me something valuable."
"Why, yes, of course. I'll be happy to!" Breathlessly, Wurdyne opened up one of a myriad of drawers and cabinets and reached her hand inside. It was empty inside, but that did not matter; the pirates couldn't tell that. She stretched her fingers out and produced an object that she knew would meet with their specifications.
"I hope this is ok," she said nervously, as she presented it. It was terribly, completely, and utterly gaudy, consisting of a rather large hunk of pure silver formed into the shape of a bust. Gold had been poured upon the top of it, forming hair. Sapphires and onyx formed the eyes and the ears were rather large nodules of lapis lazuli. The mouth consisted of ruby lips and diamond teeth. There was no nose.
"This is a bust of the god—" Wurdyne began, but Don Karnage interrupted her by sighing loudly and tapping his foot.
"Miss Lyden," he said impatiently, "I do not care about that. Give it to me." He held out his hand, and Wurdyne handed the bust to him.
"Now, my five thousand dollars, if you please. Do not pretend to be the forgetful elephant-type person."
"I wouldn't!" Wurdyne cried hotly. "Sissy would never forgive me if I didn't keep my word." She reached into another drawer and procured the money, which she handed to the pirate captain.
"I must be off." Don Karnage bowed. "The Sea Duck awaits." The air pirates then left.
"Bye-bye!" Wurdyne waved cheerfully. "Be sure to visit!" She dropped her hand, and her vapid smile as well.
"Watch out for sandstorms," she whispered, a small smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"I guess it was pretty obvious why Diana wanted two of us to deliver the package, right, li'l britches?"
"I guess so," Kit said absentmindedly, staring out the window.
"Cira was nice, but boy, was she absent-minded. Kinda like ol' Beckers, huh?" Baloo looked at Kit out of the corner of his eye.
"Yeah, sure, Papa Bear," replied Kit.
Baloo frowned. Kit was definitely not paying attention to him. "What's the matter, Kit? You've been acting weird ever since you left Cira's."
Kit sighed, uncertain of what to tell Baloo. It all seemed so utterly ridiculous and impossible to him. He had to be his imagination; that was the only logical conclusion. "It's nothing."
"Aw, we're friends. You can tell ol' Baloo. I won't laugh, I promise." Baloo smiled at Kit, an idea forming in his head. He remembered being Kit's age. "Did ya think she was pretty?"
"ShewasDiana," Kit answered quickly, all in one breath.
"Well, they were twins," Baloo agreed.
"No," Kit protested angrily, "She was Diana. They were the same person. And I don't
think her name is Diana or Cira."
"Now Kit," Baloo said patiently, "You're not making any sense. Diana's back in Cape Suzette. And you saw how different they were."
Kit pounded his fist on the armrest. "They're the same person!" he cried, surprised by his own vehemence. "They're the same person," he repeated, soberly. "I know it doesn't make any sense, but—" Kit paused, noticing several dark specks in the sky.
"Air pirates, one o'clock," he said calmly and buckled his seatbelt.
"Hang on, li'l britches! I'll shake those guys quicker than you can say jackrabbit."
Baloo pulled on the yoke, sending the Sea Duck sharply to the right as the air pirates came upon them, guns blazing. He detested this. He loved flying; the relaxation, the freedom. Outflying a bunch of common crooks was neither relaxing nor freeing, but a dull, tedious chore.
The radio crackled, and Baloo picked up the transmitter. "Whaddya want, Karny?"
Don Karnage clucked. "Now now now, you silly Baloo type person. You must be knowing that I am always hating that nickname." He paused, waiting for an apology, and when it did not come, continued in the same falsely jovial, light-hearted voice that he had first spoken in. "Please be so kind as to give me the walking-type stick, or I shall be forced to shoot you down."
"Sorry, Karny," Baloo said sarcastically. "I don't have it anymore."
"Do not lie to m—"
Baloo hung his transmitter up.
Karnage stared, dumbfounded, at the transmitter he held in his hand, static crackling from it. How dare that miserable bear hang up on his wonderful self. His breathing became labored and his voice deepened. "You will pay for that insult, Baloo." He set his radio to speak to his crew.
"Get that bear!" he shouted. "If you let him go, I will hang you by your pinkies!" It was an old, but effective, threat. "We will," he ordered, "use formation Alpha Seven Able Baker Butcher Candlestick Maker Charlie."
The air pirates responded with a cacophonous chorus of confusion and uncertainty. Karnage, wishing once again he had a crew with even half the intelligence of a jellyfish, clarified himself. "The brand new one we first did last Thursday."
Understanding, the pirates continued their attack, diving, sweeping to and fro in a seemingly random pattern.
"There's never a cliff gun around when—" a bullet pinged on the Sea Duck—"you need one," Baloo said.
"Sure thing, Papa Bea—" Kit's agreement was cut short by a choked, weak cry.
"Kit, are you—KIT!!" Baloo shouted. His face paled and he stared, horrified, at a dark stain that slowly began covering Kit's sweater.
Kit reached up to touch his chest and felt a warm, viscous substance on it. He held his hand out in front of his eye and noticed that his fingers were red. Red, Kit knew, stained something terrible. "Rats," he pouted, "and I really liked that sweater, too." Kit's eyes closed and his entire body slumped.
"KIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!!!" Baloo cried again, a tragic roar coming from deep within his soul. He placed the auto-pilot—really a simple crowbar—on the yoke and ran to the medicine chest at the back of the plane.
"Come on, baby," he begged, his fingers shaking and slick with sweat as he tried to open the metal box. "Just open. Please, I need you to open."
The small box finally opened, revealing its contents. Baloo took two objects—a small dark glass bottle of mercurochrome and a roll of bandages—and ran back to Kit. The pilot knelt by his navigator and let the bandages start to unwind. He pressed them, uselessly, against Kit's chest and they were soon soaked through.
His soul's roar became louder as Baloo struggled to open the bottle of mercurochrome. His fingers were slick and slipped on the glass container. It would not open. Baloo, intelligently, knew that the liquid would not do Kit one bit of good, but he had to try. He could not simply give up. He had to save Kit.
The bottle clattered to the floor of the Sea Duck, and several of the pirates, swooped, again, on the Sea Duck. Instinctively, Baloo threw off the crowbar and avoided the pirates.
In control of the Sea Duck, he was able to think logically. Kit wasn't dead. Baloo refused to believe Kit was dead. He would not give up on Kit. He had to get help. Aridia would certainly have the medical help he required. However, he knew that it would take far too long to reach Aridia. Kit would be dead hours before he did so.
Baloo made his decision. Aidira was a poor land filled with rude people. But it was the closest land, and the only chance Kit had. He would go there and force them to save Kit. He would not take no for an answer.
Having decided that, Baloo turned the Sea Duck in the direction of Aidira and realized that the deep roar was not a cry of grief emitting from deep within his soul. Directly in front of the Sea Duck arose a massive dark funnel, terrible and ominous.
"First pirates, now a sandstorm?!" Baloo knew he could avoid all the pirates, or he could avoid the sandstorm. There was really no decision to be made, and Baloo pulled the yoke sharply to the right, and the Sea Duck turned North.
Though it had to be impossible, the sandstorm was still in front of the Sea Duck. It was all really too much. He remembered Diana's warning—"there are sandstorms"—said in a polite, relaxed manner. He had expected any sandstorms he might encounter to be small enough for him to fly rings around; not this immense behemoth that was bearing down on the Sea Duck.
The sandstorm crashed into the Sea Duck, and began clogging the engines with sand so that they did not work properly. The left engine failed almost immediately, and the Sea Duck began rocking helplessly.
"Hold together, baby," Baloo begged, attempting fruitlessly to right the plane. All was dark, and he could not see. "Please, baby, if we do this when we get back to Cape Suzette I'll have Wildcat fix you up good as new. Just stay together long enough for me to reach Aidira and save Kit. Please, baby."
The right engine failed, and the Sea Duck was silent. All that remained was the deep, rumbling, wild and terrifying roar of the sandstorm that engulfed the Sea Duck. Baloo let go of the yoke. There was nothing more he could do.
With the Sea Duck was completely at the mercy of the winds of the sandstorm, Baloo somehow managed to make his way over to Kit. He unbuckled him and hugged the cub's small, still body.
"I'm sorry, Kit," he sobbed. "I'm so…so sorry. I'm sorry." He continued apologizing as the Sea Duck plummeted towards the ground.
TO BE CONTINUED…