Chapter II: Season's Greetings

"Monterey Jack, you and Dale go and ask some questions in Cat Alley."
"Cat Alley! Croikey, 'ow did I know you was gonna say that?"

"Well, these jobs were pulled by cats, there should be some cats that didn't take him up on his employment offer."

"True enough. Oi just hate t'be the bloke that has to ask 'em!"

As Monty and Dale headed off on their mission, Chip and Zipper headed for the nearest bus, and once aboard, made their way to a small neighborhood near the park.

As Chip jumped down from the bumper, he was immediately assailed by the sound of loud snoring. Scampering up to the top of a gatepost, he had to laugh to himself upon seeing the source. Inside the small, fenced yard, an old German shepherd lay on his side, paws sticking straight out. Occasionally, the dog made a growling sound in his sleep, as if chasing someone.

"Hey, Plato! Wake up!"

"Hmm, hmmph? Whazzat, who? Oh, hello Chip!" the retired police dog said. He stood and shook himself for a moment, and looked up at the chipmunk. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Come on down, don't make me crane my neck up there all day."

"Oh, sorry Plato."

Chip shinnied down the post, and walked over to his mentor. It had been a while since he'd last visited, he noted to himself. He made a mental note to start coming on occasions other than when he had a problem.

Plato yawned, and sat back down.

"I assume you're here about the case?"
"Yeah, how'd you know?"
"You always have a certain look on your face when you're hunting a lead, so I assumed you were on a case. Which one is it?"

"Well, before we get to that, Plato, my first reason for coming was to tell you you're invited to a wedding."

The old canine's ears perked up.

"Oh? Whose?"

"Mine!"

Plato's eyes finally lost their sleepy look and popped open wide.

"Yours! To who?"

"I asked Gadget to marry me."

The dog gave Chip a great pat on the back with his paw.
"Well its about time, youngster! I wondered when you'd ever get around to it!"

"I guess I just had to work up the courage. The wedding's next Wednesday, think you can make it?"
"I'll make a point to. Now, what case are you working on?"
"Well, it appears that one of our acquaintances is trying to wreck Christmas for the city."
"Ah yes, that one. You think Fat Cat, then?"
"That's my best guess."
"Mine too, given the evidence that I've heard so far through the grapevine. I know all of his thefts are Christmas related, but I can't see what profit they'll bring him. My contacts haven't brought anything to my attention on that rotund sourpuss of late either. I'm afraid I can't be of much help to you on this one, my boy. Just remember what I've always told you. Reason it out. Make assertions based on evidence. And use your head. I'll let you know if anything reaches my ears."

Chip sighed.

"Thanks, Plato. See you at the wedding?"
"Count on it. Good luck. And give my regards to the bride."

"I will."
Chip turned and walked back to the sidewalk, where Zipper was waiting. The fly looked at him expectantly. He shrugged.

"Plato didn't have anything, Zipper. We'll have to see if Monterey and Dale come up with any leads. Looks like this might be a tough one."

Back at the Rangers' tree, Gadget was hard at work. She had rolled the Rangermobile and the Rangerskate out of the garage, and had the parts of the model kit spread out in every direction. The die-cast metal body sat on an access rack she had built of beams from an Erector set. Having levered it into place there, she stood back, and looked at it for a moment.

"Hmm…have to choose just the right motor," she mumbled, entering her familiar inventing state of thought. Her nimble fingers seemed to act on their own, fitting screws, attaching gears, assembling parts. Within an hour, a robust electric engine hung from ropes above the forward section of the car.

"I might want to rethink building an overdrive unit for this car, considering what it did to the Rangerwing. But then, I might not be here if the 'Wing hadn't had it. So there's something to consider there…"
During all this thought, she continued to work. Her materials seemed to form together with a will of their own under her skilled touch. After another hour, however, she was exhausted.

"Golly, building things automotive really takes it out of you!"

Gadget turned out the lights in the garage, and headed upstairs to get something to drink. She still wasn't quite up to her old self yet, after her experience with Professor Nimnul's aging ray. The Rangers' doctor, a retired raccoon, had said that it would be several more weeks before her old level of strength completely returned. This was one reason that her Thanksgiving activities and her inventing had taken such a toll on her. But doing as much as she was able made her feel stronger every day.

Upstairs in the living room, Gadget sat back into the sofa, where the Rangers' sometimes spent their evenings watching a mystery movie together. After a few minutes snuggled into the soft cushions, she had almost dozed to sleep.

BRRRIIIINGGG!

She jumped to her senses, standing from the couch before she realized.

"What?"
The Rangers' telephone was ringing. Gadget had salvaged the old human-sized phone from the local dump, and had tapped it into the neighborhood line. Very few people knew their telephone information, however, except for a few friends, contacts, and whoever those contacts might direct to them. Having disposed of the receiver and built a speaker unit, she sat down in front of it and pressed a control.

"Rescue Rangers, to the rescue! This is Gadget speaking."

'Lady Gadget,' the voice on the other end said. 'Hello! This is Reguba, from Redwall, you remember I hope.'

"Of course I remember, Reg, its only been a couple of weeks! And I told you, you don't have to keep up with this 'Lady' business, its just Gadget! How're you doing?

'Oh very well, thank you. I was just calling to tell you when to expect me.'

"Expect you?" she asked, puzzled. Then, the information came back. "Oh yeah! I forgot you're moving to this side of the pond."

'I've arranged passage on a human flight for this coming month. I'll be arriving on Christmas Day, but I wanted to surprise Tammy.'

Gadget grinned.

"It'll be a big surprise, I know. You really swept her off her feet, Reg."

'She did the same thing to me,' he said, sounding somewhat embarrassed. 'Not that I'm complaining, mind you.'

"So I'd imagine. Mrs. Hazlenut's looking forward to meeting you."

'Meeting the parents is always the hardest part of a relationship.'

"Chip and I didn't have to go through that part," Gadget said, a bit sadly.

'I'm sorry, La—Gadget. Monterey seems to mean a lot to you, though.'

"Oh he does. He's so much like Daddy. And…you have a remarkable talent for getting people to talk to you, you know that?"

She could almost hear the squirrel warrior's loopy smile on the other end of the line.

'Squirrels are just like that. You ever notice how Chip always talked to Tammy…whether he really wanted to or not? It's a talent we have.'

"The next thing you'll be telling me is you're telepathic or something," she chuckled.

'Well, I just didn't want to burden you with too much information at once,' he joked. Then his tone turned serious. 'Gadget, do you think she's serious about me?'

"Well, in the couple of weeks we were there, I think she got about as fond of you as a young girl can in that space of time…and maybe a little more. I'd say its more than worth following up, but that's just some friendly advice on the side that she doesn't need to know about."

'Thanks, Gadget. See you in about a month.'

"We'll be looking forward to it, Reguba. Take care."

She pressed the control to hang up, just as a knock sounded at the door.

"Hmm, wonder who that is?"

The visitor turned out to be Bink, standing in the doorway and smiling like a small furry cherub.

"Well hello, cute stuff!" Gadget said, kneeling down to the little girl's level. "What's up?"

"Can I stay, while Mama goes market?" Bink asked, articulating her words as much as possible for a five-year-old. The Rangers' mechanic ruffled her hair affectionately.
"Sure, kiddo. You know you can always visit with me."

Bink looked like she'd just been handed the keys to a candy store. After the adventure in Fat Cat's cannery, she had placed Gadget in the position of another big sister. Plus, Gadget was still enough of a kid at heart that she had no problem sitting down and playing. Bink turned back and waved at her mother, who was standing at the base of the tree. Mrs. Hazelnut waved her thanks to Gadget before walking toward the park entrance.

"So, little one, you want to help me work on the Rangerplane?"
Bink's bouncing and squealing was answer enough.

"Cat Alley," Monty muttered darkly. "Every cat in the city hangs out heah. An' do you know wot cats eat?"
"Didn't we go through this before?" Dale asked.

"Too roight we did, an' I'm sayin' it again."

The two Rangers walked careful around the dreaded corner, and into the even more dreaded space between buildings known as Cat Alley.

"Well well, what've we got here?" A huge, battered looking stray stood towering over them, a sneer on his face. "I do believe you gents are lost."

Without warning, Monterey Jack stomped down hard on the cat's paw, eliciting a high pitched yowl.

"Listen, mate, we ain't heah for no trouble. We just need a bit o' information. An' if we don't get it, then the holidays ain't going to be much around heah. I don't think even you bunch are Scrooges, are ya?"

The cat shook his sore paw, and looked down.

"You here about them jobs the big cat's pullin'? Good! At least somebody's got the guts to look into it."
"Wot do ya know, bucko?"

The big gray tabby sat down, still rubbing his paw.
"Not much, 'fraid. I do know that Fat Cat's been puttin' out the call for every available cat in the city. He's plannin' something big, not to say what he's pulled already isn't big. His new hideout's out by the docks somewhere, but I'm not sure where."

Monty looked at him suspiciously.

"You're bein' awful helpful, pally. 'Ow do we know we can trust this?"
He shrugged.

"Hey man, I may be a bad cat, but I like Santa as much as the next kitten."

Dale almost laughed, but didn't, as he valued his health.

"All roight," Monty said after a minute. "Thanks a bunch, Puss. But if you're lyin' to us…we're pals with a certain metal bodied cat that you wouldn't wanna tangle with."

The informant's eyes went wide.

"Geez, so you're them rodents Tom talks about! Hey man, don't worry, I'm not feedin' you no line. Good luck with it. I've worked for Fat Cat before, but messin' with Christmas is too much."

As they walked back, Monty looked over his shoulder.

"Well now, at least we know cats 'as got some Christmas spirit, ay?"