Chapter Eight
"Dose palookas, dey ain't gonna get away wit dis!" It was five o'clock; after the regular Acme Looniversity classes had finished for the junior years Fifi and her friends had come to see the Principal. It had been years since anyone had seen Professor Bugs in such a towering rage. "Why, of all the sneaky low-down tricks!"
"Monsieur Bugs – eet ees true, then? About poor Fifi 'aving to leave?" Fifi's tail was fluffed out in shock.
Bugs paused his pacing and looked at the senior class. He sighed. "Hate to say it, kid, but if we let dem win it's bon voyage for you. So it's time to use our smarts, and I ain't whistling Dixie."
Buster winced, looking at his mentor. "And study our classes as well. Perfecto got that timed right. The ol' sucker-punch."
Bugs raised an eyebrow. "Dat's my problem. And I can do something about it, too. Ain't no good my having a fancy executive chair if I don't get to make fancy executive decisions." He shook his head. "Chee, da words I had ta learn to do dis job. Dodging hunters was da easy life next to dis." The grey hare took a deep breath, looking around the assembled toons. "I'm assigning you all on dis as a special project – combined Outsmarting and Villain Whopping 701 Supplementary, I calls it. You can do this on Acme Loo time and get marks for it, too. Professors Tweetie and Road Runner teach those courses but gave de okay on it. Whadda you say?"
"We'd say yes Sir!" Babs and Buster chorused, the bunnies leaping in the air and slapping their hands together, white glove against pink fur.
Buster grinned, turning to his friends. "That's my mentor." He turned to Babs, Fifi, Rhubella and Shirley – and to an avian who by most outward appearances was Plucky Duck. "Glad to have you on the team, Clarke – it wouldn't feel right to do this without the Pluckster, one way or another."
Clarke Gander smiled modestly. He tapped his green feathered arm. "Just paying an honest rent on this. Which isn't what these Perfecto people want to squeeze out of Miss Fifi." His eyes hardened briefly. "I've not even met them, but I'm getting a real dislike for those toons already."
Shirley looked at him. Even without her aura to scan his directly, her Looniversity acting classes would have told her this was not the same character. Even his voice was different; despite physically having the same beak he had only a fraction of Plucky's lisp. Clarke's posture was subtly different too; he held himself straighter, without Plucky's perpetually somewhat shifty body language. This was a toon who belonged to her world and had faced down things that belonged to the darker corners of it without crumbling into panicked pieces. "Like, welcome onboard. You'll add totally major balance to the team, fer sure."
Clarke nodded. "Pleased to meet you too, Ma'm." He extended a feather-hand.
Shirley felt a pang of mixed emotions flash through her as she shook hands with a stranger. This was not her mallard. She reminded herself to be nice to the one who was keeping Plucky's body alive, and was volunteering to help the rest of them as a bonus. To make things stranger, at the moment he was the powerful psychic and she was not. It would not take more than a casual glimpse into her now unshielded mind for Clarke to read her body and soul – in fact he might be doing it and she could not even tell. To make things worse, the eggs she was due to lay were carrying that body's chromoplasm; at least if it changed into a goose they would not change to match. At least she hoped not, but with Toons the unexpected was always in the scriptwriter's arsenal. "Is Colonel Fenix feeling better? I know we totally stressed out his aura, to the max."
Clarke winced slightly. "The Colonel has not issued us any updates, ma'm. His last briefing was he would commence searching for the missing auras when recovered." He hesitated. "But I saw him after he'd finished repair on the Plot Hole and ma'm, he was hit hard. Being up and walking around by tomorrow would be a rapid recovery. Anything more than that – the end of the week would be doing well."
"Just to start. And then he'll be busy looking for Plucky. Looks like it's up to us. All right!" Buster turned to Rhubella. "You know Perfecto. What would it take to make them take you back?"
Rhubella snorted. "It'd take threatening them with as much plain ruination as they hit me with. And I don't mean slapstick. They're on a "study break" in the Seychelles and out of reach anyway – and remember they're Toons even if they don't take your classes. You can't do them any permanent harm even if you strung them up from the palm trees and spent all day using them as piñatas."
Everyone spent a few happy seconds picturing that.
"Ahh," Babs said dreamily "and here's me with a shiny new mallet I so wanted to field test. I'll find an opportunity, sometime."
"If they think they're out of reach, they're in for a little surprise" Buster stood next to her. "Remember, you've got toon rabbits on your side this time. Getting there will be no problem, while me and Babs can burrow. Now let's go and write a travel show and an action movie – Babs and Buster style."
Babs gave a manic grin that she had copied from Macree, the mink who was currently enjoying his leave surprisingly calmly in Acme Acres assisted in day to day activities by his thinking-mind dog. "Travel show and action movie, Buster? That's a bit one-sided. From someone's point of view – I'm thinking horror film that'd make Freddy Cougar look like Hello-Kitty."
"You're a scary bunny." Buster looked at her admiringly. "Now - let's get busy!"
"Dat's my boy!" Bugs waved as the party headed out to make their plans. "Don't forget, stay clear of dat tricky turning at Albuquerque!"
"I still don't see how we're going to do this." Rhubella pondered as the toons sat out in the middle of Acme park, well away from any prying ears. "We've no money, no resources and not much time. They've even frozen my bank account – it's "while under investigation" but even the bank can't tell me why!"
Babs spin-changed into a plain white martial-arts robe, with a clip-on set of venerable white whiskers. "Ah, grasshopper," she intoned, sitting in a cross-legged pose mirroring Shirley's. "The wise man does not strike at the foe's main strength. He strikes at his secret weakness."
"Ze small force of low-resource rebels with right on zeir side, against ze rich and powerful Empire." Fifi reminisced. "'Ow can zey evair win? Because such is ze way of eet."
"Which means, forget lawyers and the way the Perfectos are doing it," Buster advised. "It takes too long. Fifi's not got that much time to play with. Besides, we don't work that way." Lawyers and accountants radiated a powerful humour-suppressing field that gave some Toons a severe headache just being close to for any length of time.
"We didn't spend all those years going up against Montana Max and his millions for nothing." Babs paused. "Rhubella. I once heard Perfecto invited him to transfer over. Do you know why he didn't? I thought that'd have suited him perfect-o."
"Though we'd have all missed sweet Monty so, so much," Buster pressed his paws to his heart and gazed heavenwards innocently.
"Missed him? Shouldn't buy cheap government surplus targeting systems from ACME," Babs quipped.
The rat gave a sneaky grin. "Perfecto costs serious money, and Acme Loo doesn't. He's one of those folk who's scared of risky investments. He's not got so much money he can stop caring about what he spends. Then – there's the extreme danger waiting there for him."
"Extreme danger?" Clarke queried. "What's there that he couldn't hire protection against? Besides, even if you ran him over with a steamroller he'd just bounce back."
"We know." Babs and Buster chorused, looking at each other as they recalled a treasured memory from their second year. Babs squeezed Buster's paw fondly.
Rhubella smiled, and for a second her old haughty expression returned. "Imagine the horror of it. He can spend all day at the Looniversity enjoying looking down on you, but at Perfecto Monty might have met people richer than he is. Or worse – we have some very high status students from around the world. He could have ended up being some toon's social inferior and know deep down there's no money in the world that could ever fix that."
"Ooh. Real horror-show." Babs gave a mock shudder. "So. The Perfectoids. What's their secret fear? Never mind for now how we're going to do it – what could possibly happen to them that's so terrible they'll do anything to avoid it?"
Rhubella thought for a minute. Then her eyes lit up. She bent over and whispered in Babs' long pink ear.
Babs looked at her. "That's sick. That's awful." A slow smile crept over her features. "And you know? I think I rather like it."
On the other side of the planet, a white coral beach shimmered under tropical sun. There was a six-star hotel with private beach that had been exclusively hired for the week, even if that meant leaving half the rooms empty.
In the sunshine, the senior year held court with their cliques and tails of juniors petitioning for support and good advice. Bad is the new good, was the smart belief these days.
"This is my kind of study hall." Danforth Drake stood poised at the edge of the diving board, the ocean breeze ruffling his feathers. "We should relocate the campus here. We could, you know." He bounced twice on the board and dived into the Olympic-plus sized pool, swimming powerfully back to the edge. Expensively imported fresh water rolled off his well-groomed feathers – oddly enough, like water off a duck's back.
"I doubt our dear Miss Hazel would enjoy the weather." Reclining on a sun lounger, Margot Mallard looked at him from over the top of her designer sunglasses. "She's still in Eastern Molvania, last I heard. More her scene. They've got more haunted castles, lightning-blasted hilltops and stylish features like that for her to enjoy."
"Why do they have to make the tropics so hot?" Next to her on the poolside and denting her sun lounger a lot deeper, Luanne Lecroy fanned herself irritably with a silk folding fan. "And the sun goes down at night – just like that!" She gave a slashing stroke with her fan as if it was a cleaver. "Somebody should do something about it. Maybe we can sue."
Margot sighed. The bovine was a reliable ally to have at your back like a wide vehicle following you on a narrow country lane – nobody would be getting past her in a hurry to take a swipe at your tail-feathers. Unfortunately, as far as her wit and conversational skills went, it was reminiscent of talking to monolithic concrete – pre-stressed concrete would have been more sophisticated. She felt an unfamiliar twinge somewhere that rarely signalled to her consciousness as she thought of Rhubella, her usual confidant and scheming partner. Rhubella was reckoned the sneakiest of the three, while Luanne's brutality was widely admired amongst the lower years who struggled to imitate it. Despite expectations, satellite photographs showed that Perfecto was still standing and even appeared undamaged.
"I hope we're safe from Rhubella now." Margot knew that admitting any form of weakness in front of her classmates would be as unwise as splashing around bleeding in a shark pit. "Do we know if our Perfecto Storm worked?"
"Nothing to worry about." Roderick Rat's chisel teeth gleamed in a hard smile. "You know just giving her a quick slap, status-wise, would only make her come after us. We had to burn her out completely – demolish everything she's standing on so she can't. No resources, no problem-o."
"That isn't going to work," Margot warned. "You haven't thought it through. Remember what Mister Boris taught us in Dirty Tricks class! We can take away her Perfecto status and make sure she never graduates – but we can't take away what she's learned. And if she was motivated before…" she shook her head ruefully. "She may take awhile to dig after you, but there's no hole deep enough to hide forever."
"And after you too, sweet Margot," Danforth did a credible imitation of a feline's cruel purr, considering his species. "You agreed with this. Nobody twisted your tail-feathers. You used your ring, you put in your code, as much as any of us." He smiled as he looked up at Margot, his beak looking surprisingly sharp for a pure-strain duck.
"I did." Margot mused. There had been little time to think about it with the towering rift in reality rising above Perfecto and the clear sight of Rhubella's new Acme Looniversity allies caught on the spot. If Rhubella had intended to wipe out Perfecto and graduate by default citing the "Last Toon Standing" rules that had not been invoked since the establishment left the ruined BosToon campus in 1933, bringing down any level of vengeance would have been the right thing to do. Despite mocking Hans Haflinger at the time, should it really come to it Margot knew she would not be a submarine that let itself be sunk with any missile unfired. "Yet Perfecto stands."
"Proving the Acme Loo-sers fouled up," Roderick replied smoothly. "You're surprised?"
"No. And Rhubella, she broke the non-aggression pact we signed in the first year. So she deserves whatever she gets." Margot winced inwardly, though no sign of it showed to Roderick's searching gaze. She had assumed that the apparent change in the rat girl had been only part of a cunning plan the ramifications of which were probably self-protectingly hideous in that they would eat at the mind of anyone discovering them – hence she had not told her most valuable allies about it. That was Rhubella for you – or at least it had been. If it wasn't her behind that attack, Margot felt an unwelcome voice insisting then it's not herwho broke our contract. Uh-ohhh…
As evening fell over Acme Acres, Fifi and Rhubella found time to relax after a tiring day. While Babs and Buster planned nearby Fifi had thrown herself into practicing her freestyle gag exercises, pointing out that it would probably be useful in whatever action they came up with. If nothing else, it kept her from worrying about the fresh crop of problems she had been hit with.
At last, both relaxed on the knoll above Babs' burrow to watch the sun go down. Rhubella smiled, stroking Fifi's purple furred paw with her own. Her engagement ring clicked against the skunkette's own. "This could turn out to be a really short engagement."
Fifi's body locked rigid in horrified shock. "Ruby!" she gasped. "You are – breaking eet off? Because poor Fifi owes the money and weel 'ave to leave, if ze bunnies do not pull ze plan out of ze 'at?"
"Silly." Rhubella's coffee-bean nose brushed Fifi's broad flat one as she leaned over to kiss her. "You're not leaving, if there's anything I can do about it. If Perfecto are still after us on Friday, I know what to do about it. I've been doing more than one kind of homework today. The day we get married, is the day you're proof against them deporting you. If it has to be this weekend, never mind ordering dresses from Wedding Peach. You and me is all it takes, with a bouquet of flowers we'll pick on the way to the judge. Yes, we can go to France, or anywhere you want – on our honeymoon."
"Ruby. Forgive your Fifi for doubting you." Fifi held her tight, her scent beginning to fume. "I feared, you were mad at me for my tail eet went ze sideways at ze sight of zat M'seu Blaque today."
Rhubella smiled. "Your tail has taste. I thought he was handsome too, and I'm not even hard-wired for the sight of two-tone fur. But I'm learning. You're a good teacher."
"Vous do not really – mind?" Fifi blinked. "Truly, Ruby?"
"A handsome, healthy-looking 'skunk-hunk' who must have brains as striking as his tail, to do that job – very nice." Rhubella snuggled closer to Fifi. "I know sometimes you traditional toons have your cubs actually delivered by the stork, which saves a lot of problems. I wish I knew how you did it. Maybe I'll find out. But if you need a third signature on the request form for that – well. He looked to have all the right qualifications, and I don't mean his law degree. Your choice."
Fifi looked Rhubella in the eyes. "I agree. To zis weekend eef we must. We cannot marry in France, alas! Ze othair …" Her tail swished lazily "We 'ave all our lives to think about."
Rhubella's ears twitched as a thought hit her. "Who'd have thought it? I'm a skunk magnet. Me, not you! As soon as I show up, the queue of handsome two-tone fur starts to stretch right down the road."
"Ze law of Conservation of Comedy," Fifi found the prospect less depressing than she had the first time. "I could nevair find one until eet ees too late and my 'eart is yours. But – ze trick ees, to 'ave ze last laugh on it aftair all."
"Umm. That's a bit too advanced QuanToon Theory for me," Rhubella conceded. "If it gets me you – I don't care how that happens." She squeezed Fifi's paw. Looking at the softly furred skunkette, she felt her heart melt at the prospect of making her happy. With Roderick it had been the usual Perfecto relationship – both made certain they got what they wanted out of the other, which was the best anyone there expected and far more than most actually got. "Anyway – it's time to eat."
The pair descended into the Bunny family burrow, waved at Mrs. Bunny and took their trays. Mealtimes at Babs' crowded family home was rather like a cafeteria, with each young lapine taking their tray and bowls to the kitchen hatch to be filled and helping with the washing up afterwards.
"I see what Babs meant about her sisters," Rhubella did not have to whisper to be private in the noise of six litters of bunnies feeding. Near one end of the table Henri was conspicuous amongst two dozen bunnies by his glorious expanse of skunk tail, with Bonnie sitting next to him evidently with official approval. Rhubella guessed that Mr. Bunny had been having words with him, and was satisfied with what he heard. Across the table two of Bonnie's older sisters evidently had different opinions and were looking daggers at her. "Jenny Beatrice Bunny and Katy Belle Bunny – they look like they're about to spit teeth."
"If looks could kill, Bonnie she would not be feeling zo well, eh? Babs she ees not the only one turning ze green of jealousy," Fifi's own huge tail waved slowly. "And at least she was not aftair zat 'andsome French two tone tail for 'erself – she 'as Bustair to look forward to!" Fifi's own tail waved instinctively.
Rhubella smiled. Babs, she had heard, had made a point of only dating her own species even if in practice that had meant only Buster. Her siblings apparently had their own ideas. Amazingly enough, Babs had not blown her top in a Krakataoa #1 Special-Effect that morning on discovering her Mother reallocating her double-bed for a standard single. There was a new room being dug at the opposite end of the corridor. "It must be a Rabbit Thing," she mused to herself.
They collected their bowls of vegetable stew; carrots were certainly an ingredient but far from the only one. Rhubella looked around the table, and thought hard. It was just as well she and Fifi had a room, as her Perfecto card would certainly not get her through the gate right now and would probably trigger the automatic super-pressure fire hoses that swept the gate areas clean of riff-raff. She had nowhere else to go apart from home to BosToon on the far side of the continent. If Babs and Buster could not find a way to undo what her former classmates had dumped on her – this was the only home in Acme Acres she had. "It's not Perfecto – a few months back I'd have turned my nose up at the cuisine. But at least I don't have to watch my back, or test for "food additives" here."
"You are allergic?" Fifi asked, concerned. "Mrs. Bunny she 'as nothing but ze freshest vegetables, nothing othair in zis. I 'ave seen ze kitchens and pantries." There were restaurants in Acme Acres with smaller kitchens, but there were also restaurants that would struggle to feed thirty hungry customers at every sitting.
Rhubella looked at her, and sighed. "Fifi. Living at Perfecto is total non-stop warfare without a Christmas truce, even. Not as noisy as Acme Loo, we don't drop ten tonne safes on each other. But you learn fast not to take your eyes off your food, and that's just the obvious side of things." She shook her head. "I've seen people slipped purgatives that can turn a toon clean inside-out, Fleischer style. Ooh, that's messy. The biology class get their cameras out for bonus practical class points."
Fifi's ears went right down. "Such social graces zey teach you."
Rhubella tried hard to feel ashamed. It had been outrageously funny at the time, and the victim rather than the aggressor was pushed further down the social heap as always. She remembered Margot handing a disintegrated rival an inside-out burst tennis ball and straight-facedly persuading the victim that it was her gall bladder and really should go back inside with the rest."If you let it happen to you, you deserve it" was her sorority's unofficial motto. Do unto others as they would do unto you, but do it first – that was not a motto that needed to be taught even in the first year. To a Perfecto student it was as natural as breathing.
"Carrot, cabbage, mushrooms, potato and herbs." Rhubella mused, stirring her stew with the combat/survival spork that was almost her last legacy of Perfecto mealtimes. "And they don't eat it by the gallon. How on earth do they all get the energy, on this? Apart from them not running up the walls, this family do a good version of living inside a martial arts movie."
Fifi giggled. "Zey are bunnies, zey could run ze marathon on ze fresh grass diet. Proffessair Coyote, 'e could lecture for a week and not give vous all ze details. Zat is why we say "eet ees a Toon Thing" for short – eet ees ze same reason why all ze energy drinks in California weel not make a tortoise win ze race." She paused. "Unless 'e uses 'is wits, and makes eet funny. Calories 'ave nothing to do with eet."
Just next to them, Jenny Bunny evidently had nothing wrong with her long yellow ears. She nodded meaningfully at Bonnie across the table. "And they won't have anything to do with some of us likely needing a larger dress size, soon enough." She suddenly gave a yelp, and reached down to rub a bruised shin. Bonnie Bunny looked on, serene and smiling.
Fifi's ears went up as she recognised Babs' voice in the hallway. A few seconds later a familiar pink and white blur of energy shot across the room, gave a wave and a cry of "Hi Mom!" and grabbed a bowl of steaming vegetable stew. "Shift it, Mortimer!" She squeezed in between her eldest brother and Fifi on the bench. Turning to the rat and skunkette, she winked broadly. "You know, coming up with a Perfecto-stopping plan takes as many calories as three hours of bench pressing a ten tonne truck!"
"You've got a plan?" Rhubella blinked.
"Oh yes. That's like saying the ocean's sort of damp. It's true but oh, how much more there is to it." For a minute Babs swallowed carrot stew like a Space Shuttle engine gulping fuel at full throttle. "Ah. That's better. It all goes down on Thursday. Calamity Coyote hacked into the hotel Perfecto have booked and they'll be there till then. What Buster and me have in store for the Perfectoids – a roadkill raccoon has it good, next to that." She copied Sweetie Bird's evil chuckle. "They'll wish they were disposable guest stars in the Happy Tree Friends ™ !"
Fifi winced. "Babs, Bustair 'ad it right. You are ze scary bunny. Eef I ask ze details, eet will put me off my dinner."
"Can't have that." Babs winked. "Where ignorance is bliss – you know why Concorde Condor never gets depressed. Let's just say Rhubella will be better off not showing up on Perfecto's roster right now."
As the long early Summer day drew to a close, Shirley McLoon was resting on the high ridge of Mount Acme that ran down into the woods a few hundred yards behind her family house. From there, there was a wide view of the open skies facing away from the intrusive urban glow of Acme Acres. She often came up there with her astrological charts to watch the stars.
The young loon had been trying to commune with her inner nature for hours. She sighed, giving it up as a bad job. Her mood ring was no help, the aura-sensitive artefact as much use without her aura as a TV set with no power supply. The last of the light caught the twinned rose quartz crystal she wore around her neck.
"Shirley? Your Mother said you were up here. Can I join you?" Mary Melody's voice broke the quiet that only the wind in the trees below had stirred.
""Come on up, Mary." Shirley was sitting in the Lotus position on the grass, feeling to her disgust her white feathers getting damp and grass-stained. Having an active aura had been like a force-field shielding her from the everyday annoyances of life. "I was just watching the sunset."
Mary climbed up around the steep limestone crag, hardly breathing heavily despite the steep hill and the two mile rapid walk from her home in central Acme Acres. Her usual roller-blades were stowed in a backpack and she wore the same brand of mountaineering boots that Jaggi did, though the stallion also wore them to class and the beach. She stood for a minute, her dark skin almost glowing like copper in the sunset light, her powerful figure braced sturdily on the hillside. She smiled sympathetically, and sat down next to Shirley. For a minute she was silent. "What a Spring it's been," she said quietly. "Things have certainly changed for us. I sometimes worry I – started it all, bad as well as good. With me and Jaggi. And everything else followed."
Shirley gave a chuckle; the first time she had laughed in days. "Whoa, Mary! Like, less of the mondo guilt trip! Things were getting way inflammable all year."
"Do you think so?" Mary blinked.
"Fer sure. When the forest dries out, it's natural forest-fire time, you know? All part of the ecosystem. If it hadn't been one spark it'd have been another." Shirley winked. "Calamity Coyote said, you only get steam-engines when it's steam-engine time. If you and Jaggi hadn't been so right, you wouldn't have been so inspiring for us. All of us." Suddenly her feathers seemed to droop. "And if not you - it would have been Plucky and Maria first. That's what I saw in my crystal, and it put me in a total panic. I had to yank his destiny way off course and fast, like crash-landing an airliner that was meant to land elsewhere. They were so right together too."
"I saw Maria walking out with Clarke," Mary said hesitantly. "She seemed happy. They were coming out of a movie theatre."
"More mondo bad karma for me." Shirley sighed. "She's going to lose her mallard twice. I took Plucky off her, and if he gets back Clarke's going back to being just a disembodied spirit and a body that doesn't even twitch. Maria loses both ways, and it's not her fault for either. I can't even give her Plucky back if he comes back. It's too late. When he finds out about our eggs, there's nothing that'd make him go." She cast a searching look at Mary. "Well, without my aura I'm like down in the weeds and mud of the mundane plane fer sure. Weighed down with eggs like any other broody waterfowl in the swamp. I'm getting totally primitive cravings for meat and fish, Mary! That's so radically uncool!"
Mary nodded. She had thought hard but realised that there was nothing she could say or do that would help her friend. "What if he doesn't…" she started, and broke off, fearing to make things worse.
Shirley looked at her. "I don't need my aura to guess you're thinking "what if Plucky never comes back?" It could happen. Then Maria, she'd still be mourning him along with the rest of us. And I'd be weaving a reed nest in the swamp, on my own. But hey! Enough of the negative vibes." She stroked her still smooth feathered abdomen; according to her mother it would be a month before anything started to show. "It could be worse. I wouldn't have guessed I'd feel this way but - no Plucky and no eggs – that'd be way worse. At least there's still something of him left for me."
"He's out there somewhere, searching." Mary looked up at the darkening skies, where the first summer stars were coming out. She knew that the astral plane was no more in one direction than another – but looking into the endless reaches of space felt right for the situation. "I don't know where – but once he makes his mind up he doesn't quit." Not even when that'd be the only sensible thing to do, a rebellious thought whispered inside her head. She mentally stamped on it with hobnailed boots.
Shirley was silent. She lay back on the grass, no longer trying to centre herself; she had tried that and discovered an aching void where her centre used to be. The loon and the human lay out of the wind on the ridge together and watched the summer stars wheeling high above them.
Somewhere that would show on no star charts, a figure flew through illimitable space. Exactly what travellers there saw of themselves and their surroundings was mostly shaped by who was doing the travelling. The shape was that of a sleek, highly supersonic interceptor – in fact it was very like the one in Mega Wing Commander 4 – but in some ways it had definite aspects of green duck. Whether Plucky flew it from the cockpit or was the craft himself, was a fairly meaningless question.
An experienced traveller would have more navigational instruments on the cockpit, hopefully including one showing where home base or refuelling stops could be found. This had something that echoed an early fighter radar, a fixed beam pointing straight ahead like a searchlight beam in the darkness.
Gee, you can see forever out here… a thought registered somewhere. Plucky had thoroughly suppressed the idea that he was completely lost, reminding himself Shirley's aura is out here and so am I. How hard can it be? All I have to do is keep going long enough…
It might have been an easier flight if the skies were empty. There were other things out there, some of them fellow travellers seen afar like distant contrails in the sky, too far away to hail even had he known their frequency. There were other things though – they were great towering cloud-like structures that looked as if they belonged here. They were alive and hungry. On previous trips carried along with Shirley's aura, they had been pointed out at enormous distance and diverted well clear of.
The mallard machine flew on. The altimeter gave no meaningful reading, but somehow there was at least an up and a down, or it felt that way. "Down" was back towards the material plane – though he tried not to think of the time Shirley had lectured him on the difficulty of getting home to the right one. He shuddered at the prospect of returning to an alternate Acme Acres timeline where Disco still ruled and his Disco-loving sidekick Hamton was the Big Toon On Campus. It had bad enough that one time when he had "borrowed" Calamity's half finished Time Machine and gone sideways to a world populated by collectable robot versions of everyone. He could still recall Babs' mocking response to it - "The Tinny Toons. Heh. Who knew?"
"Down" was back towards all the possible material planes, but "Up" was somewhere else entirely – somewhere there was the top of the atmosphere, and anything at that height travelling fast enough would break free entirely and head out on a one-way trip like a space probe heading out forever to the distant stars. There was something out there but it was as far as galaxies.
It shouldn't be this difficult. Not if I can do it. Even that alley-cat Furball got here once! And he didn't even mean to! The unlucky feline had found his way onto the astral plane once having been in an alleyway when a dry-cleaners had thrown a leaky container of experimental cleaning fluid into the dumpster he was sheltering in. Plucky and Shirley's auras had been passing at the time and seen the feline's astral shape rocket past them like a cat on a hot tin astral plane. "Launching Furball X-L 5!" as Plucky had quipped, quickly quoting the old sci-fi show that had been re-run that season on Acme TV. Shirley's aura had almost lost focus in fits of laughter – surprisingly, her energy form had carried most of the loon's sense of humour. High spirits, Plucky thought with a hint of a smile on his beak.
In whatever way that meant, Plucky looked up. For a long time he strained at the furthest edge of vision, staring out into the void for a hint of anything moving against the stars. He was about to give up when he spotted something. There was no contrail; it was too high for that. It looked like the old long-distance pictures of moon rockets powering out of the gravity well with their second stage about to burn out, the engine plume expanding wide in the near airless heights. Whatever it was, it was already almost at the top and not intending to return; not a Moon but a Loon rocket.
"Shirley." It was only a distant speck but somehow he knew that was exactly what he was looking at. The loon's aura had fled in panicked disgust on a one-way trip, not wanting any part of what her material form had been willingly trying. He flinched guiltily remembering that moment in Shirley's cellar – though it had not been him who had thrown the cage key out onto the floor or even suggested the idea in the first place. It was not something either of them would be discussing with their friends. "You really had to be there," he murmured to himself.
Suddenly, the relief at finally spotting her shattered as a wave of panic washed over him. No return meant just that out here – past that point nobody would be coming home whether they wished to or not, not even the famous Major Tom. If he could catch her before then, he could try to persuade her to return – that or at least follow her out by her side forever. For an instant he paused, thinking about that. The Shirley he truly loved was the shining, almost angelic one up here, not the earthly waterfowl who slept with curlers in her head-feathers. There were other pretty duck-girls in the swamp, but nobody remotely like Shirley.
Plucky took the equivalent of a deep breath; the sleek interceptor (canard configuration, naturally) slid open the ramps of its air intakes to its utmost. Then a webbed astral foot kicked in an astral afterburner as he locked the controls for a collision course interception. He had worried about the fuel state, but now threw out that fear in the hope it would save weight as he clawed for altitude.
I'm not going back without you!
End Chapter Eight
