Chapter XXI.

"This way, quickly!"

"Are you sure, ma'am? We've made several turns now and we haven't located the enemy agents you said were here."

"Well...I'd assume they're on the move! Which makes it that much more important to catch them before they escape."

"That...makes a sorta sense, I suppose. Lead on, we'll deal with 'em when we find 'em."

Blank breathed an inward sigh of relief. Whether she was this unskilled at deception in her normal life she couldn't be sure, but she knew for sure that she was no secret agent. Just stringing along this troop of kids was straining the little creativity she could muster, and she wasn't sure just how long she could keep them off balance. Mentally she berated herself for volunteering-she could barely hold together her own molecules, much less conduct covert intelligence runs. But she had given her word, and her word she would keep. Somehow she seemed to remember that was something important to her, hanging in when she had made a promise. It just felt right somehow.

"Which way now, Miss? We're running out of time."

"Just-uh-just round the next corner, I'm sure!"

"But we've been around this corner!"

"H-have we? Huh, that's odd, I could've sworn we came around the other corner, achally. Imagine that, my mistake."

"I don't think there are any enemy agents, Danny," Jack growled. "I think she's the enemy agent, and she's been leadin' us away from the objective!"

"Quiet! I'm the raid commander, now lemme think!"

Holding up a gloved hand, he halted the troop abruptly and took up a position near the storage bay entrance, where Blank knew that Lawainie and the other Rangers had concealed themselves.

"Is why my Corporal says true? Are you an enemy agent?"

Blank thought fast. No matter what she did at this point, the young squirrel would be suspicious, greatly so. It was obvious her cover was blown, there was no going back on that-still, if she could play this 'betrayal' into the youngsters' game mindset, there might still be some salvaging the situation.

"Umm...yes. Yes, I'm afraid it is true-I'm an enemy agent. I admit that, and you caught me fair and square! I congratulate you, gumshoe."

Gumshoe? she thought. What decade was I born in?

"I can see there's no deceiving a crackerjack smart group like yourselves-so I'll make a deal with you. You agree to show me leniency with your superiors-and I'll guide you to where my compatriots are hiding with the device. Agreed?

"Don't listen to 'er Danny," Jack whispered loudly. "She's just trying to save 'er own skin!"

"Yeah, probably so-and that's why I'm gonna trust her. She's got a vested interest in helping us, now."

"An' how do you figure that?"

"Simple. If I think she's playing us false..."

He feathered the trigger on the ugly laser weapon he carried, with a crafty smile. "Then we say bye-bye, birdy."

Gulping, Blank nodded, managing a bright smile. It was true, her mysterious regenerative abilities might save her from harm...but would the immuno-suppressants Tammy had concocted wear off in time to allow access to a regeneration cycle, if she was hurt? The risk to life and limb couldn't be calculated, and down in the depths of herself Blank somehow knew that she was a creature who didn't like to tempt the odds recklessly. She couldn't even theorize the power output of the weapon Danny carried-but even a guess told her that a direct hit would do catastrophic damage.

"L-lets get moving," she stammered, gesturing toward the storage bay. "Just t-take it easy, everybody."

"No sudden moves," Danny cautioned, his brushy tail bristling with anxiety. "Remember, I've got my orders."

"Of course, of course. My team mapped this facility months in advance, that's the only way I found you so quickly. That also gave us an advantage, knowing where to hide."

"Makes sense," the squirrel muttered. "How many of you are there?"

"How many?"

Blank thought fast.

"Umm...well achally, that is to say-"

"No stalling! I need those numbers, an' I need them now-I'm not walking into a trap."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Agent. As far as my team, there's two more of us secreted in the laboratory storage bay-if we hurry you can probably still catch my partners, before they make a run for it with the device."

"Lead the way. And remember-make one wrong move and I'll burn you before you can blink."

Of that she had no doubt. Thus far the youngsters on the arcade system had shown themselves completely absorbed and unwilling to process any stimulus from outside the story-a tribute to whoever had programmed it, and them obviously. Unless she or the other Rangers could find a way to reach them, they would follow their present course to the end.

If only I had a frame of reference for all these random insights, she thought sourly. I keep getting flashes, but there's no context...I don't know whether to trust my mind or not!

"Eyes on the road, Dollface," Danny growled, shaking her to the fact that she'd been stepping uncertainly. She couldn't afford to lose them now. Swallowing hard, she jerked a thumb toward the heavy swinging doors that led into the storage bay.

"They're right in there, one on either side, watching for me to come back. They'll be expecting you, so be careful."

"Your concern is sooo touching," he said skeptically. "You go first-we'll see just how serious you are about givin' up your confederates."

"Don't worry-I'm not that good at thinking on my feet."

Holding her breath, Blank stepped into the darkened bay ahead, her ears pricked forward for any hint of sound. Silence, absolute silence reigned, and she released the lungful of air with a sigh.

"Like I said, I'm not that good at thinking on my feet-"

She tensed, and with every ounce of strength she had threw herself to one side of the door, diving for cover.

"But I never said anything about yours!"

A line snapped taut across the dimly lit entry, and cries of alarm rang out as the four teenagers went sprawling head over rump, spilling into the room in a tidal wave of legs, elbows and tails as the trap ensnared them. Lawainie had done exactly as Blank herself would have done, although how she knew that was still tantalizingly out of reach. Danny lifted his head and snarled, reaching for his laser rifle.

"I warned you scumball, I'm gonna-"

A hand flashed out of the darkness and slapped the weapon out of his reach almost as quickly as he'd thought of it, and as the room's lights rose Mariel's disapproving gaze bore into his visor with the heat that only a mother can muster.

"Young fellow, I wouldn't kiss your mama with that mouth, if I were you."

"You leave my mother out of this!" he shouted, struggling as Tammy and Mariel lifted him to his feet from either side. He snorted in Blank's direction, straining against the two Rangers' grip.

"You said there were two more of you!"

"Right...sorry about that. Golly, I am. But I had to get you here before we could do anything to help you. It was for your own good."

"And pigs fly at sunset," he spat, aiming a kick at her knees. Lawainie placed a warning palm against his chest.

"Noho mālie a i'ole," she growled, meaningful emphasis giving a punch to the words that needed no further explanation. Danny paled, and nodded vigorously.

"Yes ma'am."

Tammy raised an eyebrow, looking up expectantly.

"What was that?"

"You don't wanna know."

"I thought not," she chuckled, pulling a zip tie tight around the teen's wrists. "Now then, we don't have a lotta time, and this is about to get tricky."

"Disconnecting them?"

"Bingo."

"What chance is there that we could just block the signal some way?"

"You know that better than me. It's a dedicated line-there's nothing we've got that can break that connection. There's only one cure-and that's the unplug them from the system."

Lawainie winced.

"Just how dangerous is that?"

"Well it's not exactly safe-but it's a lot less dangerous than leaving them where they are. If we let these kids play this illusion to the end their brains won't be any more active than a fried donut."

"And I'm guessing there's not repairing that."

"Fraid not. Even medicine as sophisticated as we have now can't cure total synaptic failure."

Gently, she reached behind Danny's ears, exploring the connections between the visor and the other pieces of equipment wired to his backpack. He recoiled in terror at her touch.

"No! Y-you can't terminate our connection to headquarters! We have to have orders-guidance! Regulation 46-A, no agent shall be disconnected from input by HQ at any time, under pain of death. If you pull the plug they'll kill us for insubordination!"

"Look-Danny, is it?" Lawainie asked. "I know you've got no reason to trust us-your computer's marked us as 'enemy agents'. But right now I'm the only thing standing between you and a total loss of brain function. Now I don't know your parents, and I don't know if they've heard a' me. But I am not going to send them home a vegetable if it's in my power to stop it. D'you understand at all?"

Confusion and despair warred on the youngster's face.

"I-I'm not-I don't know..."

"His mind's trying to surface," Mariel marveled. "It's fighting the software! If she can keep hold of that line..."

"Don't listen to th' sewer slim, Danny!" Fight it!" Jack snapped. Lawainie turned a stormy glare to him, with all the heat and fury of a flow from Mauna Loa's veins.

"Clam up, you little exhaust leak. He's the leader-if there's gonna be any hope of saving any a' you, it starts with him."

"You think they're connected?" Tammy asked.

"It stands to reason. Even on a simulated team, having one agent in charge to receive orders is efficient-and in this case I'd guess it makes 'em easier to control."

"You're probably right-like having a central computer hub to control functions-they're probably all regulated through his visor and helmet."

"That begs the question," Lawainie murmured. "How do we pull him out of there safely?"

Danny thrashed as Tammy stepped behind him, bucking against his bindings until receiving another fierce glare from Lawainie. The doctor considered the layout of the technology for a moment, tracing the leads with her eyes, and silently pondering where to begin.

"What d'you think, Law...you designed the original."

"I might have built the first of these...but those lunatics have perverted my design to the point I don't recognize half these circuits."

"Well can you make an educated guess?"

"I'd rather not make any kind of guess, when the wrong one could fry this kid's neurons."

Lawainie bit her lip, searching her memory for the intricate circuit maps still stored diligently in her carefully ordered mind. The devices were devilishly familiar, but a good deal more advanced than what she had originally conceived. But then, she had never considered using her work for purposes of mind control, either. Once upon a time, the temptation to use this technology for nefarious purposes might have reared its' ugly head...but the Rescue Ranger in her had grown far too powerful, and seen far, far too much to view their arrangement as anything but barbaric. The thought of a child suffering beneath the input of such ill-conceived treachery set her blood on fire.

"My advice would be to sever the data lines first-one input at a time."

"Work it down until the only thing left is the central connection."

"Exactly. Take it slow so the brain doesn't have any excuse to go into shock."

The young squirrel's face had grown more and more terrified throughout the conversation, and he pleaded with Lawainie as she shuffled through the components strapped to his back.

"Please...please don't make me betray my mission. I don't wanna die."

"You're not going to die," she said severely. "Not as long as I've got anything to do with it. Now sit still."

"Please do," Tammy muttered. "This is going to be delicate."

Gently, one by one, she slowly unplugged the thin wires from the backpack Danny wore, allowing each to dangle free as she moved on to the next. It felt almost like playing a game of Operation-except in this case, touching the sides could prove fatal. Even now it was a gamble, whether they had reached the youths in time. All any of them could was pray, and hope.

"I'm tellin' you, I won't-I won't do it! I won't betray Command!" Danny shouted, as the simulation software fought to take firmer control of his mind, his brushy tail bristling as if electrified as Tammy ran her hands over the connections, exploring. Even with Lawainie's advice, she was the doctor, and she was responsible for her own conscience alone. The choice of where to pull had to be hers, and it had to be made quickly, lest Banastre's programming run its' course and these young ones be consigned to mental oblivion. It was a chance she was unwilling to take.

"Danny."

"That's Agent 26 to you, enemy operative!"

"Danny," Tammy repeated gently, putting her hands on his shoulders with a soft, practiced touch, borne of many scraped knees and checkups over the long years. She peered into his eyes, almost completely shielded by the pale green of the visor.

"I need you to concentrate. Focus on the sound of my voice, and my voice alone-not any instructions from 'Command'. I'm your doctor, and I'm a friend. And I need you to help me."

The youth's posture relaxed ever so slightly, and slightly, almost imperceptibly, the confused expression returned, his eyes growing rounder with unexpected questions.

"Help...you..."

"That's right. I'm right here, and I'm going to try to bring you home. You remember home, don't you?"

"Home..."

He breathed deeply, seemingly distracted as Tammy slowly removed another connection from his helmet.

"Home...Mom."

"Yes? Tell me about her. What's she like?"

"Makes...walnut walleroos. On Tuesdays."

A small, beatific smile slowly lit his face.

"Always...saves a warm batch for me. After...school."

Tammy felt a tingle of nostalgia in her heart. How many times had she bounded into Ranger HQ after a grueling day of high school exams, to find Monterey Jack waiting with a plate of warm cookies and a pitcher of milk? It had been her blessing that she possessed a rapid, squirrelly metabolism, she recalled with a light chuckle. It seemed that even now in these darkest of days, some things-some wholesome, wonderful things-yet remained unchanged.

"Walleroos, huh? My favorite was always pecan pralines."

"Nana's...specialty. Only get them...at Christmas."

A pang of sorrow bloomed in the doctor's memory as she pulled the next connection. Her own grandmother had departed many, many years hence, and there was never a time that the scent of warm, roasting pecans and brown sugar could not move her to tears. Tammy made herself a silent promise, that she would return this wayward boy to his loved ones, one way or another. Somehow, she vowed to herself, as Lawainie leaned over her shoulder. Some way.

"How're we doing?"

Danny's face immediately contorted into a snarl.

"Enemy commander! Never-never give up Command's secrets! Can't-can't break me!"

"Shhhh!" Tammy soothed, turning him back toward her with firm hands. "Nobody is trying to break you. We're just having a nice chat, remember? Now where were we...oh yes. Nana, and Christmas."

She looked over her shoulder at her friend, eliciting a shrug from Lawainie as she backed away. If anyone could draw the troubled teen out of the virtual world he'd been imprisoned in, it would be Tammy who could reach him. Silently, Gadget's sister thanked the Creator that they were not dealing with the original technology she had helped Banastre build-she and Tammy had already been on the receiving end of that model*, when it was properly perverted. The newer modeled required more finesse to operate in the field-they were more insidious in that way, winding themselves deep into the player's mind-but at the least it offered an opening into the victim's psyche by which they could still be reached, if the rescuer was determined. And Tammy Reguba was one determined squirrel.

"Christmas..." Danny droned sleepily, and he grinned in spite of himself. "Nana always brings...brings presents, when she stays. Likes...she likes carols. And taking us to the...to the Thirty-Fourth Street Santa. Even when I told her I was too old," he chortled, his eyes alight under the hazy plexiglass. His voice grew stronger as Tammy pulled another connection, and she pushed toward the mark, reaching out to him as she made the final attempt.

"Did you ask for a present this year?"

His gaze fell, and a note of sadness entered his tone, changing the timbre of the conversation as he seemed to consider his words.

"Just...just that we could find Dad. The RAS drafted a bunch of engineers for some secret project, and we haven't seen him since-since-siisshhhahrrkrkkkk...!"

"Tammy? Tammy, what's wrong?" Lawainie demanded, grabbing the squirrel by the shoulder as she peered at the mess of disassembled electronics. She shrugged helplessly, throwing her hands into the air.

"I don't know! It's like we got hit with some sort'a electronic feedback from somewhere, and the whole package just went crazy. See what you can make of it."

"Where's the programming screen?"

"Here-here! Hold on."

Tammy jerked the bundle of disconnected lines loose and flung them behind, exposing a small screen under the knapsack's flap. Letters and numbers sped across the display in tightly grouped blocks, and the entire control grid abruptly turned red. Lawainie toggled several controls on the tiny touchscreen, running back the instructions the unit had received as she sucked in a breath in alarm.

"You've got to get him out of there now."

"What? I still have to make the adjustments to pull the last data line! I can't just yank the plug!"

"You have to! And you have to hurry!"

"Lawainie, you're not making any sense-how can I-?"

The mouse grabbed Danny and pulled him close, pointing at the blinking red text as it scrolled ominously, her fingers walking across several lines of code that almost leaped to life under her trained eye.

"You've got to pull him out-this is a destruct code."

"Destruct?"

"Yes-almost like a virus! In a minute it's going to melt down all the access points into this unit, and it might just take Golden Boy here's synapses along with it! If I had the time I might be able to raise KITT and stave it off, but this is a matter of seconds here. This is now or never, Tam."

"Doc? Hey, Doc-where did you go? Everything's-everything's dark. And fuzzy...I can't see my fingers."

The teenager's voice held a growing note of panic, and he clawed at the air in futility as the V-Cade apparatus shorted and began to shut down, giving off a burst of sparks from the controls.

"I-I can't feel my fingers! Doc? C'mon, you said you could help-please!"

His arms fell limply as his nerves lost connection, and desperation played across his face in rolling waves of terror. Lawainie shook Tammy by the shoulders insistently.

"Tammy, you've got to do it-he doesn't have the time!"

"I'm a doctor Lawainie-I swore to do no harm, and I don't know what it could-"

"Tammy, he's going to die!"

Understanding hit like a splash of cold water from a faucet, drenching Tammy's consciousness in a chilling bath of reality and urgency as she clenched her fists. The choice she made now might mean saving a life, or ending it-but if she did nothing, she could see plainly that death and destruction was the only outcome. The time for indecision was past, and the time to put aside the doubts and be the doctor was now. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed the final data connection and tore it loose from the pack, a spark snapping as the power surged through the gap. The last line fell loosely, and Danny fell back into her arms in a limp, lifeless heap as the helmet and visor fell from his head, the bright green plexiglass shattering against the hard-packed concrete. His eyelids fluttered rapidly, and his breathing came in ragged gasps as Tammy and Lawainie eased him to the floor, allowing his head to rest gently in the squirrel's lap.

"What's happening?!"

"He's going into shock-I think we disconnected him a half-second behind the destruct code," Tammy growled in barely controlled anger. "Oooh, if I could get my hands on Banastre right now! If this child dies, it is his doing! An' I won't rest until I make a murder charge stick to him like a magnet."

"We've gotta make it outta this first, Red," Lawainie reminded her, watching with interest as the other teenagers slowly blinked and shook their heads, as if waking from a dream. "And look what we have here, if we do make it-fresh evidence."

Jack, the chipmunk who had played Danny's mouthy second-in-command, stuttered in confusion.

"Evid-what-what is she talkin' about? What's goin' on, where are we?"

"Good questions, kid-pity you didn't ask more before you got roped into this mess," the mouse replied acidly. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I-I-I remember the lady at the VirtualCade counter asking if we wanted to help beta test a next-generation game-somethin' really high tech, better'n anything we'd seen before. I mean, who wouldn't jump at that, right? Right?" he stammered, hands clenched in fright. "Are we-are we in trouble?"

Lawainie glared at the group, more pitiable now than menacing, and shrugged far more calmly than she felt.

"Not with me. But I'm guessing none of you thought to talk this over with your parents, or get a signed consent, didja? Hmm?"

"We-we thought it'd be fine. My mom would'a freaked and overreacted and I'd've never got close to the program!"

A hint of Jack's old assertiveness returned, until Lawainie leaned down over him, the smoldering maelstrom in her eyes turning them almost the color of midnight.

"Did you ever stop to think your mother might have freaked for a REASON? That she might have been trying to save your miserable little life?"

"Lawainie, easy!" Mariel shouted, grabbing her aunt by the arm. "This isn't these kids' fault-they were duped, just like you were. Remember?"

"How can I forget."

Jack stood still, his eyes brimming.

"Saved my-you mean we could've-could've got killed?"

"If it weren't for your friend, you all would've been," Tammy said quietly. "When we pulled him out, it freed all of you. He stood up to the programming long enough that it saved your lives. I'd thank him."

She cleared her throat, looking downward.

"While you still have time."

The weighted implication of her words wasn't lost on Jack, young though he might be, and he shouldered past the Rangers quickly, sliding down onto his knees.

"Danny? Hey...c'mon man, what're you doin'? You-you-we gotta go, dude! Mom's makin' pasta this weekend, remember? You never miss that."

"Raincheck..." came the whispered reply, as the young squirrel's eyes flickered open, brightening with recognition for a brief moment. "We...got played, Jackie."

Several hot tears slid down Jack's nose, and he brushed them away with the back of his hand, sniffling.

"I know, man...I should'a listened to you. You thought it was too good to be true."

He looked up into Tammy and Lawainie's faces, struggling not to give in to the tears.

"This is my fault. I wanted to play the game...Danny thought we should talk it over with our folks. I didn't listen."

He choked.

"Why didn't I listen?"

"I guess we all stop listening, now and again, kid. We break off on our own path, an' think we know best. An' sometimes...we find out the hard way, the rules are there for a reason."

Lawainie looked down at the teenagers, and her heart was overcome with pity.

"Sometimes it's the hard way."

She looked over at Tammy.

"How long?"

"Just long enough for his nervous system to completely shut down...thirty minutes. Maybe a little more. Not much."

"Thirty minutes. How do we help them reconcile a lifetime...in thirty minutes?"

"That's something only they can do," Tammy replied softly. "The real question is...how do we help make sure it wasn't all for nothing?"


"Hoo boy, dis is some kind'a predicament we are having, let me tell you what. If you is having a plan Mr. Maplewood, now would be the best time."

"I'd love to say I'm workin' on it, Professor...but I would absolutely take suggestions right now. Guys?"

Chip observed the hooded gazes of all those who crouched around him, peering down at the crude diagram he'd drawn in the dust atop the laboratory building. Von Drake had met them from the air, and once they'd managed to access a vidphone booth KITT had provided them with what intelligence he was able. The elder chipmunk was reasonably certain the girls were inside-that much he knew from the RAS radio chatter they'd overheard during their escape. Whether Lawainie had engaged the assets inside...that was another question. If she stayed true to form, then events would already be in motion inside the lab, and he must tread carefully. If she played to caution on her first time in the command seat, then he risked taking too little action and losing the objective. The question of the hour beckoned to him-what would Lawainie do?

"She would play to her strength, and find a way to engage the enemy," Reguba said, correctly reading his thoughts. "To linger in the shadows and await reinforcement is not her way. She would take the fight to them."

"He's right," Dale chimed in quietly. "Law isn't gonna sit around an' twiddle her thumbs. She'd find a way to trash the place."

"Quite right. And given that, logically we should find her at the center of the entire situation-nearest to the target objective, which is where Banastre's forces will be. I would advise caution-but not that we should wait. We are now on a timetable, I think."

Chip nodded, pondering the possibilities. His friends were completely correct-Lawainie's base nature was to fight by any means available. It had been tempered over the years with values and common sense, but at her core she would come out swinging when pushed into a corner. It was one thing in this whole situation he could depend upon.

"I'd suggest entering here," Sparky said matter-of-factly, tapping his finger against a faint line Chip had drawn. "There's a power breaker box here where I should be able to clear us a gap to get inside unseen. Just mind you follow my lead and don't touch anything."

Dale shook his head.

"Suits me. I'm not goin' out extra crispy."

"I would prefer not myself," Reguba grunted. "Tamara prefers my pelt as it is, and I cannot blame her-it is rather attractive."

In spite of the darkness of the moment, Chip cracked a smile. Through this whole fiasco, one thing he'd been able to solidly depend on, was his team's ability to keep him laughing.

"All right Sparky, we'll go with your entry point. Professor...do you think you could pull a few of us out, as a backup if our exit is compromised?"

The old duck beat his wings against the air, snapping his beak.

"If I cannot then I don't deserve to be calling myself an Anas Platyrhynchos! Which I do-I think. Now let's see, Mama was one quarter Pekin on Grandmother's side, and Father's cousin was a white-winged Scoter, but we could never figure-"

"Och, awa' with ye!" Moira hissed in frustration. "Just be sure an' you can make like a grand auld steed should we fail."

Reguba's eyes widened.

"I thought you would not be accompanying us-a futile mission, and all that."

"Well...so it is I'm changin' my mind. Tis a girl's prerogative, when properly aggravated. And this lot have gone and aggravated me quite a bit, so they have."

"So they have, and I believe they shall be properly chastised should we encounter them," he returned with a hint of admiration. "Come now, my lads-we go into the belly of a proper beast, with this one. And the beast is aware of us, most assuredly."

It was the work of a moment to locate Sparky's junction box, and an even more brief one to wrench the protective plate from its' housing as Reguba set his muscles against it. Inside awaited a veritable cornucopia of wires, spliced lines and glowing fuses, through which Sparky led the way, his trained and experienced gaze guiding his friends through the areas he judged to be holding current.

"Easy does it, kids. The charge in here would turn you into a four-cell Mag Lite."

"Could we maybe not narrate?" Dale whispered shakily. The brightly-clad chipmunk squinted through his glasses as they slid down his nose, struggling to see the strips of his best friend's tail swaying through the dim light ahead of him. "What d'you think they're here for, Chipper?"

"Wish I knew. KITT was still working on decrypting that file when we left, and even with his horsepower it's gonna take time."

He pushed back his hat.

"Time we don't have."

"Shhh! Quiet all of you! We are not alone."

Two shadowy forms crept along the hallway's edge below them, backs straight and with a distinctly military posture. The shape of their outlines left no doubt that they were armed, and their speed and determined track told the detective that the pair of unknowns were on the trail of something-and he had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what it was that they pursued.

"They're headed for the girls, ten to one."

"No bet," Dale hissed. "Even I can figure out that one. Whatta we do?"

"We look for a place where we may waylay them," Reguba mused. "If we can remove them and their weaponry from the equation it may tip the odds in our favor. Come, quickly!"

His bristling brush vabished quickly into the darkness, qand Chip strained his eyes as he struggled to keep up. The distinct ache in his right knee reminded him to speak to Tammy about an examination for arthritis-if either of them survived this experience. As it was, he placed the discomfort in a compartment at the back of his mind, and allowed himself to contemplate the future. Catching Banastre's agents in the act here...would it bring vindication? Or would his team still be forced to fight for their innocence in the face of a system almost completely corrupted by their adversary's evil? It was a daunting thing to think about in the place of so many other things facing he and Lawainie in their lives.

Huh?

The simple thought drew Chip up short. When had he begun to think of himself and the junior Hackwrench twin as a partnership? Sure, he had been aware of the growing conflict in his heart and thoughts-he had been aware of it for days. But had it truly escaped his control so much?

You're making too much out of it, Maplewood, he berated himself. It's the face, that's all. You knew it was gonna be hard. It's just the face, and the eyes...the...the eyes...

The image of Lawainie's face filled his mind, her deep set blue eyes twinkling in the bunker's twilight as she drew back from the kiss, breathless and confused. The probing look that had filled her gaze, asking a question her voice dare not.

Would she have me?

He shook his head violently, pushing the thought away. He was Chip Maplewood, leader of the Rescue Rangers, and he was Gadget Hackwrench's husband. Period. Paragraph. And he wasn't prepared to let go of that. Not yet-and he wasn't quite sure that such time might ever come.

"-they come."

"Unh? What?"

"Get down-Chip, get down! They come!"

Reguba's insistent warning registered in his brain at last, and Chip dropped onto his front behind the looming exhaust pipe, skidding almost into view as he rolled to his back, halting his slip. Dale grabbed the collar of his bomber jacket and yanked him back to safety, concealed by the shadows.

"What is wrong with you?" his friend demanded. "You almost got us caught!"

"I'm sorry, I don't-I don't know-"

Reguba's voice was soft, but firm.

"I see the struggle you carry, friend. But be warned-we must have your head in the game. We must! Either we all work together, or we fall together. A slip like that could mean the end of us."

"You're right...you're right. Sorry guys-head in the game. Gotta remember that."

"Remember it well, for our quarry is at hand-and I believe we have caught them unaware. See?"

He raised his nose to the air, breathing in gently as his finely honed warrior's senses concocted a picture in his mind. The squirrel had scented the adversary, and he knew instinctively that they had not detected him.

"Now they are vulnerable. They are weak-no possibility of surprise attack has entered their thoughts. Now is the moment we may capitalize upon it."

"You're sure about that, hmm."

Something deep in Chip's gut drew back at the picture below. Perhaps it was Reguba's militaristic summary of the scene, perhaps just a hint of trepidation at the thought of getting caught. But something...something held him back.

"Something isn't right here."

"We cannot play to our fears now-we have but one opportunity, we must seize it!"

"Reg is right," Sparky whispered in reply. "If we're gonna shock 'em, this is our best chance."

"I know that, mister static cling! I know. But I can't put my finger on it. Something is off."

"Even so, it is the risk we must take," Reg returned. "I cannot say when this rabble may present us another such plum opportunity."

Chip thought hard. Was something trying to warn him? Or was it base instinct now that pawed at the edges of his consciousness? The only way to be sure was to act, and act quickly.

"All right-we're going in. But keep your eyes open, we can't afford any screw-ups!"

He pulled his jacket close, shuddering.

"And may this be the last time we have to spend a night skulking in dark buildings for a while. I'm tired of hiding."

"There's the Chipper we know an' love," Dale grinned, throwing an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Grumpy and irritable to the last!"

For a moment Chip's blood heated, and he looked over his shoulder, rising to the bait. Dale was an imbecile, he was a goof-up, and he was an ever present thorn in his side...but tonight, something about that fact was comforting. The felling of a good round of banter, a barb traded, a good-natured insult exchanged...it felt normal. Contrary to his usual comeback, he smiled.

"To the last, old pal. Whatta ya say...let's go finish it."

"Aye," Reguba rumbled. "Let us, at that. For Gadget."

For a moment, a wave of pain and confusion passed through the chipmunk's mind, but he straightened his back, standing to it with a will. So be it, then.

"To the last...for Gadget."

The words rang true in his heart, but even as the Rangers crept toward their unsuspecting target, something about the feeling was off. As if the sentiment were somehow hollow, and a shadow hung over them. For all of his grief, through all of the trial, Chip had given his all to properly mourn the memory of his late wife. But had it been enough?

Was I faithful?

No. No, no, no. Head in the game, he reminded himself. Head in the game! Gadget might be gone, but he was still responsible for the lives of his teammates-and they deserved the best chance he could give them.

"Steady on, lads-I see them."

Reguba pointed to the corner, then jerked his thumb to the rear; Chip nodded in understanding. Two to the front, two to the back, with Moira watching the exit. They would take the the perpetrators in a pincer movement, and hope for the best-it was a move they had used many, many times over the years. It had always worked against Fat Cat's gang-he hoped it would work here, again.

"Quietly-do not give them a chance to fire," Reguba mouthed silently. "Even one shot will warn any friends they may have."

All present signaled the affirmative, and with a wordless rush of fur and muscle mass the big squirrel was upon the enemy, Sparky in tow. Like the swift arm of an avenging angel Reguba flipped the lead patrol to the ground, and bright flashes of electricity hit the foyer as Sparky grabbed the hapless henchmouse by the shoulders, administering a stunning charge. Behind them, the second foot trooper never got the opportunity to shoulder his weapon-Chip's soft tap on his arm brought him spinning to the rear, straight into the loving embrace of a loose floor tile Dale had picked up, turning the lights out silently and efficiently. Between the four Rangers, the entire operation took only a handful of seconds, the sounds of struggle muted by the surrounding walls; it was a neat and tidy arrangement, and no lasting harm done, which brought Chip at least a small measure of satisfaction. Doing his job with a minimum of collateral damage had ever been the chipmunk's philosophy, even if it sometimes didn't work out that way.

"Item one secure!" Sparky called softly, patting the trooper's unconscious face as the unwitting rat hung limpy from Reguba's hold. Chip gave a low whistle in reply.

"Item two secure! They never knew what hit 'em!"

"Secure an' tied up like a burrito! Easy peasy an' twice as lemon squeezy."

"Indeed, well played, lads. May all our victories come so easily."

"Yeah...let's hope for that."

"Lighten up, Chipper," Dale said good-naturedly. "I mean ya have to admit, we're due for a break at this point. This team has been gettin' knocked around like a pinball for weeks."

"Exactly. And when things get that much better that quick-they're usually about to get a whole lot worse."


"Gentlemice-gentlemice, please! We must have decorum!"

"Tell that to this moth-eaten fraud before he chips a gear outta the entire organization!"

"I will not be insulted and lectured to by a washed up gearhead and a broken pariah! Give me a worthy opponent and I shall show you the meaning of a proper debate."

"You wouldn't win a debate with me if your brain was cross-wired with a photon-accelerant booster, an' you know it-the Hackwrenches made off with Basil's talent and it's plain for anybody to see it."

"Liar! Deceiver and corrupted, I name you! Cast a vote for this baseless buffoon and it is a knell to sound the death of the RAS!"

The chairmouse sighed helplessly, listening t the rumble of the impatient crowds. This had been proceeding apace for hours, with neither party finding supremacy over the other. Corkscrew Hackwrench and Birchbriar Bakerstreet had proven but one thing-they both possessed an innate reservoir of poisonous barbs with which to whittle down the opponent. Only unlike his prim and posh enemy, Corky found it exhausting. This much negative impetus simply wasn't in his nature, and soon he would have to retire and lick his wounds before engaging in any further contest. The vitriol and hatred Bakerstreet had toward him was palpable-you could feel it in the air the aristocratic mouse breathed out, and its' heat and acerbic acid permeated the very presence of his being. He loathed Corky with every fiber of his very self, and that fact alone was intimidating. Or it would be, to almost any other creature. Gadget Hackwrench's brother had been in situations that would curdle the blood of many younger agents, some he was unwilling to talk about-some he was forbidden to. Regardless of which, it gave him a steel and a reserve of strength he might not otherwise possess, and he wasn't quite willing to give up for the night. Corky had reasons enough for harboring a grudge against the Bakerstreets, if anyone did-and he called upon that dark cloud for one more frontal assault.

"Tell me, my Lord Bakerstreet. You say you're prepared to govern, that you have the experience and proper protocol necessary to administer a republic the size a' what the RAS controls. I wonder...you call one of the largest rodential republics on earth home, and yet we've seen no evidence of approval from its' sovereign. Where's your Royal Warrant?"

Bakerstreet grimaced. The hated Hackwrench was loathsome, and offensive to his senses...but he was also well informed. The Royal Warrant was a formality, a leftover from a distant age when Privy Councillors received leave from the ruler of Mousedom to make law in his or her stead. Now it served mainly as evidence of the sovereign's confidence in the officers of the realm to do their duty and care for the nation in a manner befitting the king or queen's trust. In this regard, it carried a heavy, heavy weight of political power. Reluctantly, the baron cleared his throat.

"I...erm..."

Bile rose in his chest, and his gut burned with indignation. Hackwrench was more educated than he had given him credit, and now the mistake was coming home to roost.

"I have not yet made an appearance at court."

"Mmm, yes. Imagine that."

"I would remind Mr. Hackwrench that the Kingdom of Mousedom is allied with the RAS-it is not the RAS itself! While Queen Marissa's approval would mean much to me, it does not reflect as the sole factor influencing my ability to rule."

Corky raised an eyebrow, leaning over the podium with interest.

"Your ability to rule?"

He stepped from behind his lectern with hands laced behind his back, his boots clicking against the platform as he paced, knowing full well he was engaging in dramatic license.

"Your ability to 'rule'. That's a very interesting choice of phrase, sir. Quite a turn of lingo, very interesting indeed. Your ability to 'rule'."

The crowd had quieted slightly, and Corky circled, eyeing his opponent in curiosity.

"The human philosopher Freud once said, that the subconscious often intrudes into waking reality with brief glimpses of our true selves. Small windows into the inner courts of our own private sanctum. Hence the term 'Freudian slip'."

Some in the crowd turned their full attention to the stage, their interest piqued as the pilot continued to circle, gauging his opening.

"Might I remind you sir that as we are a republic, the chief executive of the RAS Governmental Branch is appointed as an officer of the people, to oversee their interest, their public affairs, and to help lead in providing for their common defense."

Turning abruptly, he faced Bakerstreet with a neutral but grim expression, the slant of his mouth firm and set as that of a creature delivering a sentence upon the accused.

"May I remind you that as such, he is appointed to govern...not to rule."

The dour Englishmouse turned a deep shade of purple beneath his pale brown pelt, and he effect caused a seeming shadow to settle over his features. At a table near the front of the audience, Birch Maplewood tapped his cane against the floor in subtle approval.

"That's telling them, my boy."

The estimable counselor had watched the entire proceeding with interest, and it brought him a measure of satisfaction seeing Corky's entire design now come to fruition. He had played to his strength, had Corky-he was a fighter pilot born and bred, and true to his talents he had drawn Bakerstreet out into the open, baiting and feinting until at last he spied an opening through which he pressed his attack, unloading his proverbial guns in full measure. His aim had been true, and many in the vast parliament of creatures now frowned uncertainly, twittering among themselves.

"I would ask my Lord Bakerstreet, if it is your intent to rule, sir...may we count on you to do so fairly? Without malice, without preconceived supposition-"

Corkscrew paused for a moment, waiting for the Amen, as his grandfather would have said.

"Without prejudice?"

The last word carried a punch, and a measured helping of heat. Even among the younger councillors in the assembly there were some who knew of the longstanding feud between the Hackwrenches and the Bakerstreets, and to these especially the question had merit. It called into doubt the integrity brought to the contest by Basil's heir, his foundation, his fundamental intent. This was a blow his lordship had not conceived of, and only now did he realize just how costly his gaffe might prove. Indeed, it might cost him dearly, should his silver tongue fail him in the events to come, and the future of the election now appeared much less clear.

"I think," the Chairmouse began gravely, moving onto the dais. "I think...that at this time, we should recess these proceedings until the morning, when both candidates will have further opportunities to make statements upon the issues at hand. Rest yourselves my friends, and be prepared-these are deep waters we must navigate, of the utmost import. We must be at our best. Rest well, until tomorrow!"

Brief outbreaks of applause rattled across the milling groups of mice, squirrels, chipmunks and many others. Their minds were now full, and burning with questions of immeasurable weight; whom could they trust? The heir of the skies...or the legacy of great honor? The choice before them now would haunt the dreams of everyone, and many carafes of coffee and tea would be consumed around sitting room tables before the night was done. Many smaller debates would rage through the gray wee hours, and the seeds planted on this night would be watered with thought and examination, for good or ill.

"Masterfully executed my boy-well played indeed," Birch exclaimed, clapping Corky on the shoulders as he seated himself at the table, visibly flustered. "I've never seen air combat before, but imagine that the grace and acrobatics we've seen here tonight served in good stead."

"I'd rather be in combat," the mouse said shakily. "Golly all the day, but this is not what I had in mind. He's a tyrant in Basil's clothing, this Bakerstreet-a lot more cunning and ruthless than the variety Dad faced. They've learned, with the time we gave 'em...maybe too well."

"Nonsense. You possess to the full all the wit and skill and genius for which your family is so famed, and you mustn't let fear paralyze your judgement. You put him on the ropes here tonight, and he won't soon forget how you've bloodied him. He will be more careful now, more cagey and treacherous, and he'll bring down the full measure of his strategy and his lust for power upon you. You can play it against him, but the balance scales must be tipped now with great care."

"Yes, or they might dump me out the cargo doors on the other side," Corky ruminated, stuffing his voluminous stack of notes into a deep pocket on his flight jacket. "Combat I can do. Secret missions, get behind enemy lines and out again with nobody the wiser-done it, plenty of times. Air pirates? Remind me to tell you sometime...but this?"

He sighed heavily, accepting a glass from a passing waiter gratefully.

"This is new."

"Indeed it is, but I have complete faith in you to accomplish your mission and bring all home safely. As would your sister."

A gentle smile creased Corky's face at the mention of Gadget.

"She'd be right here in the thick of it, wouldn't she. Well, achally, right in the middle more likely."

"Yes, and she would be watching your back against the pit vipers at every turn, ready to swat them down while you navigated the rapids."

"Pit vipers. Funny you should mention that."

The mouse looked down into his drink, a faraway gaze in his eyes.

"I remember when we were kids, after Mom died...Dad couldn't be happy sitting still in one place. The pain and the loss just drove him, made him keep moving-and he didn't trust anybody enough to leave us. So we went right along with him, and oh, the adventures we had in those days. Two kids riding in the cockpit of a cargo plane with a hotshot and a service hero in the front seats, off to only the Creator knew where. Dad and Uncle Monty were great teachers, but good golly could they get into a scrape. And usually it was Dad or Gadget that figured a way out. Only now...it's me figuring the way out. Alone."

"No. No, not ever alone, son. You've friends at your back, yet-don't count Chip and his band down just yet. I still have faith in him, even at this dark hour."

"I may be able to provide some help with that, achally. I picked up a little hitchhiker on the way here, tonight."

"Hitchhiker?"

"Well, sort of. Over here! Here, this table!"

Corky stood and waved to someone unseen, beckoning to the impromptu circle where he, Birch and Miriam sat. "Yes, right here, this way!"

"All right, I'm coming! I'm not used to navigating in heels, you know."

Through the bustling throng of creatures, Acorna Ableheart made an entrance into the room, drawing the eyes of old and young alike as she eased across the sea of murmuring fur, head held high and her shoulders straight. In spite of her close call, she had managed to arrange her appearance for the occasion-the prosecutor was not above letting her looks do the talking, when the situation demanded. Her dark hair fell in teased ringlets over her shoulders, masking the seams of the stylish teal evening dress she wore, the tight waist and flaring skirt flattering her height and shape just as it should. One of the assembly whistled as she passed by, and she ignored him with the same grace that she would show and offending defense attorney on the field of battle in court. It was a long practiced skill.

"That's showing 'em, kid," Corky chuckled as he rose to pull out her chair, a vestige of the gentlemouse's manners Geegaw had ensured he learned many years before. Birch nodded, a bemused look dancing playfully across his craggy features.

"Good evening, Counselor. Fancy meeting you here."

"Mr. Maplewood. It's been a long time."

"Indeed it has, and that's quite an entrance you put in. Corkscrew my boy, I'm not entirely certain Cassandra would approve."

"Now, now Mr. Maplewood, it's nothin' like that, this is strictly business, strictly on the up and up. An' don't you go getting any funny ideas about it, 'cause Cassie would murder me in my sleep an' then you'd have to defend her."

"Mmm, I see your point. To what do we owe the pleasure then, Miss Ableheart? As I seem to recall you left our last meeting in some...distress."

She flushed deeply, the memory of her rookie defeat at Birch's hands still seared hot in her memory. The stinging blow to her career had taken some years to recover.

"If you must know, I accompanied Mr. Hackwrench here tonight for...well," she paused, looking somewhat embarrassed. "For my own protection, as the night would have it. It has been an interesting day, to say the least."

Birch cast Corky a quizzical look.

"Protection? What the devil have you gotten up to now?"

"A break in this case is what I've gotten up to-well, maybe, achally, depending on how things work out."

"It would be the first we've gotten in some time, if it is. It isn't like you to tip your hand to the enemy however, as it were. No offense, Counselor."

"None taken, this time. It turns out we may have more in common in this happenstance than you'd think."

"Don't tell me you've come around to Junior's side?"

"I...am considering all options, especially after the events of the past twelve hours."

Acorna paused, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

"Hamilton Limburger tried to kill me tonight."

The silence around the table was jaw-dropping, even in the midst of the boisterous background around them. Birch blinked wordlessly for a moment, in uncharacteristic surprise.

"I-beg your pardon?"

"I am dead serious, if you'll excuse a pun made in poor taste. I have worked for Hamilton for five years and never seen the look of cold, detached murder that was in his face this evening. I never knew he was so good at covering his true self."

"It was his hallmark, when I used to regularly do battle with him," Birch returned. "Cold, calm, collected, and unperturbed by anything whatever. If anyone could be capable of cold-blooded murder, it's that one. But yet even now, I didn't expect to hear it. That's how good he is."

"I'll say he is. Five years. Five years I spent in his office, and the entire time the corruption in him ran as deep as a suppurated wound, and I never saw it. I was too busy."

She choked slightly.

"Too busy, and too arrogant."

"So have we all been, I'm afraid."

Corky's words held a personal note of regret and disgust.

"I'd all but retired when this thing exploded. Did I suspect anything? No, of course not. The peace had been so quiet. No war conflicts, an all time low in crime, unprecedented prosperity in society-the RAS-G seemed to be living up to its' hype. Who needed me anymore?"

"We are all guilty, somewhat," Birch said quietly. "I believe it was a human named Patrick Henry who said, that the price of liberty is eternal vigilance. I believe we've seen during these last few days just how much that statement rings true. For we became complacent, and now we pay the price, and in my own case...the price is dear."

"Isn't there still hope?" Miriam asked. "There must be something to be done. Banastre and his allies can't simply conquer everything that is without even firing a shot!"

"Thus far that's exactly what they've done, my dear. They have squeezed, and wriggled and writhed and wound their way into the deepest, darkest recesses of the world we have built, and to lay them bare now I fear we must crack the foundations of that world and build it afresh. And the first step in doing that," the old chipmunk declared, pointing at the still-swarming platform, "is defeating him."

Bakerstreet shook hands and smiled amid a close-packed knot of RAS representatives, his face beaming with a beatific smile that would compete with that of a small child. His body language spoke of confidence, even in the face of the lashing Corky had given him-he was sure of himself, self-certain and convinced of his victory, swollen with pride and the lust for power.

"Yes, defeating him is the first step...and then, laying bare his compatriots, in which I am certain Miss Ableheart will be incalculably valuable."

"Don't put the horse ahead of the apple cart, Mr. Maplewood. We have a long way to go," Acorna warned. "I've still seen no evidence that your son isn't involved in this. At the same time...I cannot afford to brush aside a potential ally. And to that end, I have a proposition."

"I'm listening."

"Given the extraordinary circumstances...if you can get me a meeting with your son, I am prepared to offer a truce. For seventy-two hours, we all act as one body, if he can use that time to produce evidence implicating Bakerstreet, Banastre and D'Allure, that I can use in open court. That I can use to take them down once and for all."

Miriam knew the look in Birch's eye-she knew it all too well. When the siren song of the challenge called him, it laid hold with both hands, and he would follow it, follow it until dogged perseverance had laid bare the truth for all to see. It was calling to him now, and it rang forth from Acorna Ableheart's lips like the pealing notes of a march to war.

"Young lady...you have a deal."