Disclaimer:

All characters of "Chip'n'Dale Rescue Rangers" cartoon series are property of the Walt Disney Corporation and are used without permission for the sole purpose of personal entertainment. All other characters and events depicted in the story are a product of author's imagination.

Texts of songs "Crying In The Rain", "Early Morning", "I Call Your Name", "Slender Frame", "Rolling Thunder", "Shapes That Go Together" by a-ha are all property of their respected owners and are used without permission for the sole purpose of personal entertainment and needed mood creation.

'Tomorrow' is for 'Never'

by Gyrotank

Part 1

Yesterday…

1

"Whatever you say, this June turns out being!" Dale exclaimed, addressing himself. Inspired with this deep and more importantly finished thought, the chipmunk opened the bedroom window wide, letting the morning breeze in. The flow of air stirred up the curtains, which badly needed laundering, then swept over the room like some cool and dusty wave and gradually turned into a draft and strolled through the lower floor.

"Close the window, Dale! It's drafty!" Chip cried from the corridor. He had just taken a shower-bath and wasn't very pleased with a sudden cold wave rushing by him.

"And Gadget says fresh air's healthy!" Dale shouted in reply, still fanning dust clouds away and promising himself to wash the curtains tomorrow.

"But that draft isn't! Go ask her!" One cold-shuddering Chip trotted to the wardrobe and rapidly pulled on his jacket. It would be very foolish to catch a cold with fine weather like this. And on a long-awaited day like this besides…

Dale coughed out his reply. "I would go and ask her if she weren't in her workshop all the time. Almost a month already…"

Dale's words made Chip sigh sorrowfully. Gadget had indeed been devoting too much time and attention to her devices. Apparently, the many apparatuses she'd seen in Bottlebottom had impressed her so much she decided to reproduce at least some of that equipment, if not all of it.

Certainly, the other four-fifths of the Rescue Rangers understood that the inventor didn't do anything for no purpose (that is, if she didn't get too carried away with something), but they hadn't seen such an all-consuming paroxysm of creative research for a very long time and maybe not since their very first meeting. They suspected that was how the beautiful mouse's way of life had looked like before they met her, because the conglomeration of all those Salesman Traps that nearly killed them at that time could have been only the result of some very ungovernable enthusiasm.

But they couldn't bring themselves to tell her about it. Though sometimes Gadget showed wonders of self-control, firmness and determination, she was nevertheless very tender by nature. Right now she seemed separated from them by some kind of crystal wall and no member of their team would dare try breaking through it. The razor-sharp splinters of this wall could easily sever that very thread, that web-thin cord which made them all something immeasurably more than just a group of two chipmunks, two mice and one fly.

The Rangers had some very bitter experiences to prove it. Once Gadget left, being dispirited with failures and accidents; once Monty left, being bewitched by Désirée D'Allure's vicious charms; Zipper left, being offended with unmerited faultfinding; even Dale left, dizzy and egotistical with super-powers…

Although the thread endured and everything fell back into place, nobody wanted to take chances any more. Even Gadget with her vast knowledge of physics, mechanics and materials resistance theory wouldn't be able to calculate the durability of this invisible bond way beyond the boundaries of the physical world. She surely could say from the loftiness of her realism that a spider's web was twice as strong as steel fiber of the same diameter, but it's common knowledge that occasionally even a slightly careless movement is enough to tear it apart…

Overwhelmed with these thoughts, Chip pulled down his fedora over his eyes and left the room. Dale put on his Hawaiian shirt on the move and followed him as he barely missed a collision with the door-post.

Today was Monterey Jack's kitchen shift and as always the cheese could be smelled all over the headquarters. Monty wore his white apron and chef's hat of the same color as he concocted his culinary magic over two pans.

"Good morning, Monty!" the two friends simultaneously said, taking their seats at the table.

Monty gave a jump as if stung, spit three times over each shoulder and put out his tongue at his reflection in the mirror-scrubbed frying pan hanging right in front of him. Then he grabbed some odd things from the table, did a couple of elaborate gestures and only after all of this turned to the confused chipmunks.

"What's with you, Monty?" Chip asked.

"It's nothin' with me! But with ya! Don't ya know how one shouldda behave on a day like this?"

Chip thoughtfully scratched his chin. Dale no less thoughtfully knocked at his nose and picked his ear. The Australian sniffed scornfully but deigned to educate them.

"Today's Saturday" he whispered as he pointed at the big wall-high loose-leaf calendar in the corridor: "The thirteenth!"

"Oh my, and that's all? And I thought…" laughed Dale, who was afraid of the thirteenth day only if it coincided with Friday, a lake and a dark forest.

"How can you believe in all this, Monty?" Chip shook his head. "You've been all around the world. You saw so much we can't ever imagine! Different cultures, habits… Didn't it teach you anything?"

"Yeah, ya two have to go and do all da same!" Monty drawled. He turned back to the cooker, opened one of the pans and started vigorously stirring its contents. Even too vigorously, for the splashes flew all over the room.

"Where do we have to go?" Dale asked.

Chip chuckled as if saying "It's elementary!", though he didn't get what Monty meant either. But unlike his expressive friend, Chip always tried not to show his lack of understanding. Dale can torment himself over it; rack his brains if he wants to…

"Ya speak just like Gadget, word fo' word!" Monterey Jack eventually answered once he finished stirring the cheese soup and getting the plates from the shelf.

"Has she gotten up already?" Chip wondered. "It's only five past eight, and considering that the noise from her workshop lasted till midnight…"

"Till two at the morning!" Dale corrected him. "It was two o'clock when I finished reading my 'Super Hippo' comic book, and the sounds were still there…"

"I know, I barely fell asleep" muscle mouse nodded. He placed steaming plates in front of the friends, took off his cap and sat down across the table. "And barely managed to get up to prepare everythin' for breakfast. And at seven or somethin' like that she came to the kitchen, swallowed a couple of sandwiches and went back to work!"

"AT SEVEN?! She's staying in there all day long! We've got to do something!.."

"Well…" Monty gave a mysterious wink at the chipmunks, "she agreedda go to the hockey match with us!"

"WHAAAT?!" Chip and Dale shouted and sprang to their feet, nearly turning the table over.

This game already had the note of legend long before its start—the Stanley Cup Final featuring the Michigan Red Stars and San-Angeles Rangers. The seventh decisive game of the series, already declared one of the most tense and implacable in all the NHL history. This final had it all: unscored penalty shots, holding leads while doubly shorthanded, impossible saves, unbelievable and inexplicable goals…

This epic struggle just couldn't be missed, especially this time when their home city's Ice-Dome Sports Arena was chosen to host it. Such an opportunity just couldn't be missed, so Monterey Jack and Zipper found out everything about the time and the place and reserved the best seats possible — on the upper circle of the sixth sector, from where the panoramic view on the whole rink and two videowalls in the corners showed every replay in gigantic glory.

And the hockey match with Gadget and the hockey match without Gadget — that's two completely different hockey matches…

"Are you sure?! She said that?! You heard it right?!" Chip started finding out.

"You didn't confuse anything?! You sure it was Gadget?! Weren't you just imagining?! Maybe Zipper said it?!" Dale argued.

For a moment a shade covered Monty's face. The tips of his sumptuous moustache lowered a bit and his smile withered. "Well, actually…"

"What?! What?!"

"I got it that way in me head…but I'm not sure now…"

"Recount your conversation with her in full," Chip demanded. The euphoria that gripped him since Monty's first historical remark after these words completely faded away. His head cleared up and he appeared calm and staunch, though he felt a great cold burden in his stomach as if from some grim premonition. The premonition of great disappointment…

"There's nothing to tell," Monty protested. "Me standing here cooking, Gadget enters. 'Good morning!' I took all necessary precautions against the hex. She didn't even notice, though. Only when I said 'It's Saturday the thirteenth today!' did she answer, 'How can you believe in all this? You've been all around the world…'."

Monty crossed his arms, resentment on his face. "Same as you, just like that. That's why I said that ya too have to go all the same so's you'll know… Well, what was that about? Oh, yeah! So I ask her 'Gadget luv, I hope ya didn't forget about us going to the match today?' And all of a sudden she agreed! I couldn't believe me ears! Here, here, I even wrote it down!"

Monterey Jack dashed to the kitchen sink full of plates. After looking through them and finding nothing, he looked around bewildered. Then, having remembered something, with a joyful scream he took the frying pan hanging in front of him from its nail and ceremonially put it upside down on the table. Chip and Dale stared at the pan for a moment then exchanged puzzled glances.

"And?" Chip asked.

"Ya know, I was so startled I decided to immortalize her words for generations to come. And there was nothing on hand but the cheese wheel and crockeries! So I wrote them down oh the pan! Here!"

These words said, Monty turned the frying pan over and now the chipmunks saw letters scripted in bold yellow lines.

"'Yeah, sure, that's just what's needed!'" Chip read slowly.

"Great! Marvelous! She recovered! She remembers about the hockey!" Dale went on capering over the kitchen.

Chip felt an urge to follow his example, but some little worm of doubt troubled the leader of Rescue Rangers. His detective instinct suggested that this situation needed careful investigation. Something was wrong. It was all too good to be true.

"Gadget didn't say anything else, did she?" Chip finally asked the question which he was afraid to ask but couldn't resist asking.

"To me — nothing!" Monterey Jack answered quickly. Too quickly. As if fearing to scare the beautiful fleeting image away. As if clutching at straws. Chip sensed it so pronouncedly that he felt himself chilled from inside out.

"Stop playing the detective, Chip!" Dale exclaimed. Tired of kitchen jumping, he flopped down on the chair and began eating hastily, as though it could have drawn the start of the hockey game any closer. Chip paid no heed to his words though. He had understood everything already. It remained only to clear up some details.

"What did she say to herself?" Chip pressed.

Monty strained his brain and squinted his eyes. "Somethin' like 'Maybe I should try and move… thingy and… whazzit into the antiphase…' I'm sorry I didn't remember everythin', the words were too complicated fo' me…"

"I got it. Thanks." Chip took the spoon and started slowly digging up his long since cold and thickened cheese soup.

"So ya too think that she…" Apparently Monty came to the same conclusion as Chip did but was just as afraid to take them for granted.

"One hundred to one she didn't hear your words at all. Okay, enough about that."

"Well, maybe she'll 'ave everythin' done by four o'clock and go with us after all?" Monty wasn't going to give up that easily.

"Do you yourself believe in it? She has so many details and blueprints piled up there, it'll last her months if not years of work. Even the aircraft scrap yard has less junk!"

The Australian stayed determined. "But we must try to persuade 'er! She needs some rest! We'll wait till 4 PM… No, till dinnah! She doesn't forget to have a dinnah… yet. But," he glanced at the calendar in the corridor and sighed, "I doubt we'll get lucky on a day like this…"

2

Since no one could foretell when exactly Gadget would tear herself away from working and remember of the necessity to eat at least something, our friends knew they wouldn't get anywhere without some efficient teamwork. Chip, as always in such cases, took initiative into his paws and they discussed and agreed on their plan for almost an hour, nearly as long as the actual preparations.

Dale and Zipper were to act as a long-range detection and early warning system. It was impossible to observe Gadget directly in her workshop because of windows being absent there, so they had to lie in ambush on the branch across the window of the room adjacent to the workshop and be all four of their eyes. Immediately after Gadget leaving the room and heading to the spiral slide, Zipper should fly as fast as bullet into the gym, where Monterey Jack is strenuously imitating sport indulgence. Together they leave the gym and head to the kitchen 'to have some water drink' while emphatically and loudly discussing the weather. Having heard their voices, Chip walks out of his and Dale's room and also heads to the kitchen 'to have a bite'. If there is no Gadget there, he exits into the dining room and waits for her there. If she has come already, he speaks to her on a random topic, holding her in the kitchen until arrival of the main forces consisting of Monty, Zipper and Dale. The red-nosed chipmunk will have enough time to abandon no longer needed observation post and join the others by entering the kitchen through the hangar. As a result, all exits from the kitchen become blocked and Gadget has no way to go. Such unexpected and, at first glance, accidental advent of everybody seemingly from nowhere and from all sides at once must, for one thing, attract mouse's attention and, secondly, stagger her slightly, which will make the impending subtle psychological indoctrination more effective. By and large, it should have worked. But the Rangers didn't take several factors into account…

The first of these factors was the ant colony settled on the observation branch, which laid their road right over Dale, who had already tied himself to the branch for greater reliability. Unequal fight with assertive and, more importantly, biting insects ended for Dale in technical knock-down, which consisted in him hanging upside-down from the branch swaddled with his own rope. In this position he obviously wasn't able to watch over the room nor, and that was the most doleful, to block the hangar doors in time. The chipmunk and the fly had to change their strategy in passing (or, rather, in hanging and in flying correspondingly). Now Zipper had to wait for Gadget coming out, then warn Monty, and after all that said and done — to enter the kitchen through the hangar. Well, never mind. Zipper could fly very-very fast if needed to…

The moment Gadget left the workshop, Zipper flew out the window where he was stationed toward the gym with all his wings' might, where Monty idly punched the punching bag, prepared to guide Gadget into the kitchen. But the gym window suddenly turned out to be locked from inside. He commenced beating at the glass to draw Monty's attention, but Australian tired of the long wait and decided to have a snack of his favorite cheese and heard no rattle.

Zipper realized that Monty could be influenced by physical force only and flew into HQ through the hangar doors. But no sooner had he entered the kitchen than he met Gadget there.

"Oh, hello, Zipper!" the cheerful mouse greeted him.

Zipper was absolutely unprepared for a one-on-one conversation with her, so he squeaked then flew through the dining room into the corridor. The stunned inventor followed him with a bewildered gaze.

"What's with him?" she asked herself. "Do I look so bad? Maybe I should go to bed earlier…"

Waiting at his room's door, Chip heard Gadget's voice and froze in perplexity. How did she manage to outdistance Monterey Jack so much? Could Dale and Zipper have failed to notice her leaving the workshop?

Well, be that as it may be, it's time for his entrance now. He must hold Gadget in the kitchen until the others came. Chip loudly cleared his throat and stepped out of the doorway. And in that very moment Monty's noisy strides were heard from the stairs. The muscle mouse ran so headily he didn't react upon the Rescue Rangers' leader coming out.

Chip had too little time to jump aside, and the corridor was too narrow for them to pass by one another. They collided and barely squeezed through the kitchen door, clearly not meant for a workload like this. In a mass they tumbled into kitchen like an avalanche, rolled on the floor across the room and came to rest against the cupboard. The wood cracked and crockery rang.

Gadget was completely dumbfounded and just stood still near the kitchen table with a sandwich in hand and her mouth wide open, looking at her crumpled and heavily breathing friends.

"Chip?! Monty?! What the heck…" she began, but the battle cry "Rescue Rangers, away!" was heard from behind accompanied by glass shattering.

Gadget turned at the sound and saw Dale bound hand and foot flying into the kitchen. He managed to swing back and forth on the rope quite enough to break the rope and fly as far as the nearest window. The kitchen, only a minute ago having been the embodiment of order and cleanness, now looked like battlefield covered with debris, some wounded men and one POW.

"Oh Golly! What's going on here?!" Gadget finally asked when her initial stupor subsided and her gift of speech returned.

"Emm… well… you know…" Chip babbled vacillatingly crouching from under Monterey Jack.

"Yeah, Gadgie, don't ya pay attention, we just, to put it that way, emm…" Monty took up.

"Came to have a snack?" the irony could be distinctly discerned in mouse's voice.

"Yes! That is, no!" Monty waved his hands. "I came to drink some watah! Morning run made me so thirsty… Hey, Zippah, am I right? See, I'm right!" He pointed at the fly nodding his head amuck.

"And me… I… got hungry indeed. So I decided to have a couple of sandwiches…" Chip answered, carefully hiding his eyes. He couldn't stand telling Gadget even little white lies to her face, even with good intentions.

"Okay, I got it. And you, Dale, you decided to wash some windows?" Gadget asked as she helped the chipmunk out of the ropes.

"Yeah, that's right!" Dale eagerly agreed not noticing a trap he was falling right into.

"And where's your duster, soap, and water bucket?" Gadget asked innocently.

"Duster? Soap? I don't know. There was no soap in our plan… Oops!"

Dale abruptly stopped in confusion. Chip covered his face with the hat. Monterey Jack pointedly clattered the plates. Zipper pretended to study some spots on the wall.

Gadget turned to Chip, her arms crossed, and said in the strict voice boding no good at all, "Plan? So this was a plan, huh? And what this plan was for? Tell me, Chip! Plans are right in your line!"

Chip was silent for a while collecting his thoughts and planning what he'd do to Dale later. He'd planned an ardent and heartfelt address in the vein of a revered leader to his discouraged brothers-in-arms, but now it turned out to be something like a naughty pupil's confused explanation.

"Gadget," he managed at last, feeling that the pause had dragged for too long already, "we are all very worried about you. It seems to us that you've become too carried away by your work. It's very useful and interesting, to be sure, but it's also—let's say it this way, too demanding in terms of time and effort."

So far, no good he thought when he saw Gadget's unchanged expression. "Gadget, we all start feeling that you're becoming too estranged from us. And we are very concerned about it. I can even say that we're scared. We, as a team, we've gone through many so many hardships. I believe that the invisible link between us is strong enough to endure even harsher things but it doesn't make it any less scary. With each passing day we see you more and more seldom. And we rarely hear your voice, your laughter…"

As he spoke, the angry expression disappeared from Gadget's face, giving place first to interest, then to intrigue and finally to deep compassion. Even Monterey Jack and Zipper stood still, listening.

Chip felt he was on the right path and inspired by this went on. "We miss you. I miss you…"

"Come on, Gadget, let's go to the hockey match today!" Dale blurted out. "We haven't been out for a very long time, and the match promises to be simply fantastic! And you know, tomorrow A-Kha will have a grand concert in our city! One performance only! I've already looked for the seats! I'm pretty sure you'll like it…"

Gadget was just about to answer when Chip rushed up to them, enraged by his friend's so impudent meddling. "DALE! How could you! You spoiled everything! You… you…"

"Oh, stop it!" Dale retorted. "Your intro was too long and I decided to cut it short! After all, that's why we did it anyways, to get Gadget to join in!"

"And what's with this concert? You think we don't know what kind of music you like? Shouts, screams and noises! Gadget won't listen to that!"

"You're the only one shouting and screaming around here!" Dale got deeply indignant. "You've never heard A-Kha's songs, so don't say so!!"

"Right, I don't need to hear them! I had quite enough with Iron Goose, thanks!"

"Don't compare them!!" Now the red-nosed chipmunk got really mad. "You don't know anything! A-Kha is great! They wrote the theme song for the Dirk Suave movie!"

"So why didn't you say it from the very beginning?! That's what I call the best reason to avoid them like the plague!"

Dale flew into a rage and grabbed Chip by the collar of his flight-jacket. Chip did the same, and they raised fists to exchange punches when Gadget seized the chipmunks by their arms, dragged them apart and stood right between them.

"Chip! Dale! Guys! Look at yourselves! What the heck are you doing?! Chip, you've said so many right and smart things about the team, and now this?!"

"Oh, nothing, I just, simply… I'm sorry, Gadget" Chip dropped his eyes.

Dale grinned exultantly, but then Gadget turned to him and the chipmunk had no ground to laugh anymore.

"And you, Dale?! Start fighting at every trifle, don't you?! You should know that it's impolite to interrupt others! You should apologize!"

"Me?! Let him apologize first! This musical bore compared Iron Goose and A-Kha!!"

"Me?! How dare you…" Chip growled.

Gadget, having understood that this could go on forever, without any word embraced both chipmunks. The friends instantly calmed down and forgot about everything. For a minute or maybe more they just stood there in silence, then the mouse between them spoke quietly.

"Guys!" Gadget said, a measure of pain in her voice. "How could you ever have thought that? That I'd forget you, that I exchanged you for mechanisms? It will never happen! Do you copy?! Ne-ver!"

"Yes, we do copy," Chip answered, now much calmer, "and we never doubted it. I never doubted it."

"So what's about the hockey, Gadget?" Dale interrupted again, but this time Chip restrained himself. First, it was inconvenient to fight with Dale being embraced by Gadget. And second, but most important, he himself wanted to hear the answer above all…

Gadget relaxed her arms, stepped a bit back and looked into their eyes. "My dear friends! After all these words, all these efforts you put forth to knock until I heard you… After all these things said and not said… I really want to go with you, believe me…"

"But ya won't," Monterey Jack standing at the cupboard and tousling some amulet of vague shape said "'Cause right now ya are at the very crucial stage of yer research which can't be interrupted or put off at a later time. Am I right?"

The inventor blushed.

"Monty, how do you…"

"It's pretty simple," Chip answered sadly. "Yesterday you said the same."

He took her hand off his shoulder and slowly went away to the table. "And the day before yesterday. And the day before that…"

"We haven't heard anything else from you in a month!" Dale was harsher than Chip, but there was sorrow, not anger, in his voice too. He walked up to the devastated cupboard and started gathering smithereens of broken plates. It was so out of his character that there couldn't be any doubt of his disappointment and depression being truly boundless.

Gadget stepped forward, her whole form marking her protest. "But listen to me, guys! When I complete my work, our abilities will be beyond imagination! You'll see it for yourselves!"

"I'm sure you're right." Chip heaved his head. "But isn't it possible to make time for a break just for a single day?"

"Golly, we'll have plenty of time when I finish!"

"But the game is today!" fedora-wearing chipmunk exclaimed. "I understand that you can go for a picnic or to the amusement park anytime, but the game won't repeat!"

"And neither will the concert!" Dale kept the pressure up. "They seldom tour in America, and they probably won't ever come here anymore after this!"

"Point taken, but…please, give me these two days. Only these two days. I'll cope with all of it! I'll complete everything, I promise!"

Four Rescue Rangers exchanged glances and simultaneously sighed heavily.

"Well, if ya say so…" Monterey Jack approached Gadget and tapped on her shoulder. "We aren't some beasts who don't understand. Sure, work on. Ya make very useful things and you've saved our lives with 'em more times than I can count. When they worked as they should 'ave, at least—okay, let's go lads! It's time to get ready!"

Monty along with a downcast Zipper sitting on his shoulder left the kitchen. Two chipmunks slowly followed. Already in the doorway Chip looked back at the inventor standing alone in the center of the wide kitchen.

"Maybe, however...?" he asked quietly.

The mouse only shrugged her shoulders. Chip sobbed shortly to himself and left the kitchen completely robbed of spirit.

3

"If ya manage to finish earlier neverth'less, well, just suppose it, come an' find us in Ice-Dome. Sector six, by the first stand girder. Seat's reserved, no one will occupy it, we'll see da it! The sector numbers are marked with big numbers on the walls, so you can't miss it. Yer ticket's on the table in the hall."

With that, Monterey Jack, covered with his lucky talismans of different shapes and sizes, stowed a bevy of snacks on the backseat of the Rangermobile. That way, there wouldn't be an urge to go to the buffet during the break through the crowded sports complex.

Gadget just nodded quietly. She knew that nothing could ever hurry nature itself. The engineering procedure she had started just couldn't come to an end before nine that night…

The Ranger Wing wasn't quite working at the moment, so the friends decided to take the Rangermobile which they planned to leave in the bushes on the edge of the park encircling the square around the Ice-Dome. The ticket prices for the good seats were much cheaper than human ones, nevertheless they were quite high and only such bigwigs as Fat Cat or Capone could afford booking seats in the VIP-zone (on the roofs of the human VIP-zone and commentary studio).

Tonight, that wasn't a problem—during one of their last cases the Rangers uncovered a very intricate affair and averted the bankruptcy of Benny Hilton, chief manager of the arena's rodent zone. And when he was told that Monty and Zipper came to Ice-Dome inquiring about tickets, he personally insisted on covering all expenses.

Though the Rescue Rangers always worked gratis, Monty and Zipper concluded there was nothing wrong with complying with the old rodent's request and accepted his offer.

The chipmunks appeared, dressed up for the match. But while Chip just bound a blue and red muffler with a San-Angeles Rangers emblem around his neck, Dale decked himself out like a true ice-hockey player, lacking only the skates. The conglomeration of various pads hindered his movements, the hockey stick constantly tangled his legs, and his visor kept on slipping over his eyes but like any true obsessed fan he didn't care.

Chip, who had never missed any single opportunity to tease his friend before, especially in the presence of the pin-up mouse inventor, didn't pay any attention to Dale's self-torments at all. He tacitly passed by Gadget and took the front passenger seat. Dale, not without his faithful stick's assistance, waddled into the back. Monty turned the fan on and the Rangermobile set out.

"Good luck, guys!" Gadget bid them farewell. Monty waved his hand in response, while the chipmunks didn't react at all, having either not heard her voice through the fan's din or pretended not to hear. The mouse followed them with her eyes until they vanished, then turned around and resolutely headed to the workshop.

"Didn't even say goodbye!" she said angrily to herself, going upstairs. "Like uppity children, really! I'm at the most crucial creative stage of my research and they come up with this silly hockey game! What did they find interesting in it? It's just a bunch of rudeness, scuffling and nothing more! Primitive! How can anyone like a sport where the most complicated equipment used are sirens and light bulbs behind the nets?! Oh golly, I completely forgot! The first stage must've been completed already!"

She quickened her pace and ran into the workshop right when the timer counted down its last seconds and rang loudly. Gadget dashed to the electrolyte bath and took out the metal plates covered with a white film.

"Ooh, just in time!" Gadget sighed with relief as she pulled her goggles down over her eyes and became thoroughly engrossed in her work. The time-table was strict. Today she planned to finish off the superglue she was making, assemble and test some pneumatic pistols for nailing up grapples in the walls of almost any thickness, dismantle the Ranger Wing's engines for future modernization and put together a lightweight but very durable frame of a future supersonic aircraft.

But the main task for today was to perfect the technology of obtaining a much more pure liquid potassium, which then could be used to produce ultra strong glass to protect them—in the Ranger Wing, Gyrotank, Rangermobile, anything at all! The new glass could even serve the windows at headquarters, especially now after one of them, well, "broke".

That brought Gadget's mind back to the events of the day, and now she recalled the emotions and looks that the boys had. She tried to push it away, to file it for later study, but the events replayed in her mind's eye again.

"Never mind!" the inventor said to herself. "The Rangers will win, the guys will come back content and by that time I will already have something great to show them! And tomorrow's concert…golly, it'll be shown on TV so many times it'll become boring!"

4

When Gadget decided to take a short rest and turned away from her blueprints and calculations, she found much to her astonishment that it was completely dark already. She skidded down the spiral tire slide into the hall, switched the lights on and looked at the clock. Five minutes to ten.

"Wow!" she thought, "I've worked more than six hours without a break!.. But where are the guys? The match must have finished some time ago…"

The mouse inventor went down to the garage, but the Rangermobile wasn't there. What could have held them up for so long? She felt a cold lump forming in her stomach. Could something have really gone wrong? It's the thirteenth today, and Monty said…

"Golly, why am I winding myself up?! The Rangers won and guys just went somewhere to have a snack and celebrate the victory!" she loudly reprimanded herself. For a few moments she felt better but the feeling of cold wouldn't leave. She returned to the hall, mumbling "couldn't they just stay home for me not to worry" and turned on the TV.

And the world broke apart.

The special bulletin caption reading "Breaking News" all by itself caused her to freeze in more ways than one. The mournful look of a news anchor tired after many hours of on-air marathon — she shuddered. And his words — she desperately wanted to wake up.

"This Saturday, the thirteenth of June, is one of the blackest days in the history of our city and all our country," the newsreader reported, all the emotion drained from his voice. "As it was reported earlier today, at 5:23 PM Pacific Time, a Boeing 747 air liner, North Pacific Avia Flight 10031 crashed down on the Ice-Dome Sports Arena, where the Stanley Cup Final featuring the Michigan Red Stars and San-Angeles Rangers was taking place. The flight originated in Lima, Peru with an intermediate landing at our city's National Airport. At 5:05 PM the plane took off en route to Sea-City.

"As a result of the crash, three out of twelve sectors of the complex were completely destroyed, other sectors being severely damaged. According to unconfirmed sources, there were no survivors among the 328 passengers and crew of Flight 10031. The victim count on the ground is being verified, but it's already clear that the total casualties are estimated in the thousands.

"Our foreign colleagues report that the President interrupted his official visit to Europe and is heading back to this country, with his arrival at the crash site expected sometime tomorrow afternoon. The administration continues to receive condolences from state leaders and public organizations from all over the world.

"Norwegian band A-Kha, whose grand concert was scheduled for tomorrow, has already declared the show's cancellation and postponed the event indefinitely. At the same time the lead singer of the band announced at a press-conference that starting next week they would begin a worldwide charity tour, all funds from which would be used to help the families of the deceased and injured in this horrible catastrophe…"

The newsreader spoke of many different things: Of the "go team", created by National Transportation Safety Board to investigate the causes of this air crash. Of the telephone numbers by which one could get information regarding relatives attending this ill-fated game. Of the blood donation centers set up in all city hospitals and administrative buildings. Of much more.

But Gadget didn't hear it. She sat on the sofa rolled into a tight ball, staring vacantly with her wide-open eyes somewhere beyond the newsreader, beyond the TV, beyond the headquarters' walls. Somewhere out there, a place where only this afternoon her friends had departed to.

Gadget realized that if she sat there for a second more she would go crazy once and for all. Like a spring pressed to its limit, she straightened up and ran to the Wing stationed in the hangar. It was dark on the lower floor but it only registered in her fevered mind as some shroud covering her eyes and slowly she became aware she was crying.

But she didn't stop. She could stop no longer.

Gadget climbed into the cockpit and powered the engines up. Only a dull rattle responded instead of the usual low hum. Why, why had she decided to dismantle the engines today?! Gadget beat at the motionless yoke and all of a sudden remembered the Ranger Plane, stored for the time being on the upper landing pad.

The inventor darted upstairs. "Golly, if only she worked… if only she worked…" Gadget kept muttering the mantra under her breath like some spell, running up to the tarpaulin-covered aircraft. Having torn the sheet away, the mouse took the pilot's seat and started pulling on the unruly levers.

"Come on, work!" she cried with all the lung power she had, waking up a flock of sparrows which slept in the canopy over her and sending them scattering asunder in fear at the sound of her voice. Right now she didn't care who and in what quantity she disturbed at all.

"Come on, dear, start, please," she kept saying tearfully while repeatedly rotating the starter crank. "Please, forgive me for leaving you behind. Fly once more, please…"

Gadget pushed the crank once more, putting all her energy into this movement. Something cracked under the dashboard—the engine sneezed, ungreased mechanical joints started moving rhythmically, the plane swayed and vacillatingly soared upwards.

The Ranger Plane had never been noted for high speed and the long downtime didn't improve the situation by any means. From Gadget's standpoint she didn't move forward at all, but the plane, although slowly, was indeed flying. Having flown out of the tree's dense canopy, she looked around and immediately knew where to go. The crimson glow and thick puffs of black smoke over the city were impossible to miss.

No sooner had the mouse left the limits of the city park than she was deafened by sirens' wailing, previously stifled by the trees. The streets she was flying over were packed with ambulances racing between the Ice-Dome and the hospitals. 101st Avenue, which led from the city's center to the sports arena, was closed for all traffic but emergency vessels.

Police cars and barriers were posted at all intersections. Some ambulances rushed past accompanied by a pair of police motorcycles — definitely carrying someone significant, for the cream of society just couldn't afford to miss a match like this. Ordinary drivers had to go around. Almost each and every citizen had relatives or friends among the Ice-Dome attendees, so everyone abandoned everything and hurried either to the site or the hospitals. Narrow secondary streets not meant for such traffic quickly grew jammed and complaining horns of thousands of cars rent the air.

After a seemingly eternal flight, Gadget saw the Ice-Dome—or rather what was left of it. The palace towered above the wide square surrounded by parks, and all the space between its walls and trees was filled with a confusion of people and machinery. But right now Gadget didn't feel like feasting her eyes upon these mighty vessels, true wonders of engineering thought…

Her attention was entirely absorbed by the ruinous sports arena, its snow-white walls almost completely black with soot and burn marks now, the once majestic dome partially collapsed. Smoke belched and every now and then tongues of flame shot out of numerous windows.

Despite a host of water cannons and foam launchers working at full capacity, the firemen still hadn't managed to localize the fire, let alone beat it. The fire fed on the aviation fuel poured out from aircraft's full tanks, reigniting again and again, and the firefighters had to extinguish the same areas many times.

But the most terrifying sight was the tremendous breach in the south part of the arena with the crashed Boeing's keel protruding from it. To the left and right from it broad and long openings punched by airliner's wings gaped like two deep wounds. In spite of the soot, the shape of a big three stories high numeral eight could be seen to the left of the yawning chasm.

Sector eight.

Gadget knew that sector numbers increased clockwise, so she banked right toward the opposite side of the breach where sector six must have been situated. The inventor looked for the number, and that's why she didn't notice the outlines of the numeral four lost amidst the burn marks right away. The large three farther to the right was much easier to spot, for this part of the complex suffered less damage and she was struck by a dreadful revelation.

Barely holding the yoke's bottle cap with trembling hands, she flew around the entire facility, finding all sectors except 5, 6 and 7. There could be no more doubts. The sector her friends were sitting in was in the very middle of devastated part of the building. The plane crashed right into it.

"No, no, it can't be…" Gadget mumbled. Spellbound, she peered into the flaming interior of the Ice-Dome ripped open by the fallen aircraft, trying to notice any little movement amidst the smoke and fire, but it was so hot even firemen in protective suits couldn't get near.

"Maybe they left before the crash… Or came too late, after it."

The mouse frantically searched through all the possibilities, persistently pushing away the thoughts about the worst. Or maybe something diverted them. Sure! They witnessed a crime and they're chasing criminals somewhere now while I'm flying here in circles. Maybe, they've returned to HQ already and wondered where I went! They could be about to go search for me, worried for me. Yes! I must go back to headquarters and everything will be alright!

Gadget made a steep turn, facing the plane away from this darned place. She was already imagining herself approaching the home tree and seeing her friends gathered at the porch, peering at the night sky. Then they see her and shout gaily and wave their paws in salute. She lands, the Plane's landing gear touches the landing ground. The vessel is still moving, but Chip and Dale are already there to help her out of the cockpit. "Where have you been? We looked for you everywhere!" they ask. And she embraces them and says "Golly, if you only knew how much I was frightened when I heard the news…"

Eerie metallic glitter in the bushes on the very verge of the park adjacent to the Ice Dome caught her attention. From the altitude she was flying at Gadget couldn't tell what it was exactly, but it was as if an inner voice told her "Land!". The mouse directed the Ranger Plane downward and landed in the middle of the wide clear area between the bushes. There, in the dusk, very familiar outlines could be seen.

Painfully familiar outlines of the Rangermobile.

Barely moving her rock-ribbed legs the inventor approached the machine. The flash of hope that it was not the Rangermobile but somebody else's very similar carrier subsided the very moment she came right up to it. It was her design and her creation, beyond any doubt—the manually adjusted fan with two-vane propeller. The powerful accumulator. The ruby wheels with reinforced suspension. The modified dashboard with electric current feeding regulators. And, as if in case all the features listed above would still seem insufficient, there was Dale's blue-red hockey stick laying on the back seat.

He must have left it here because they wouldn't let him in with it…

Gadget took one more step but felt the ground going from beneath her legs and laid hold of the machine's polished deck edge. She closed her eyes, unable to look at this silent monument. She started shaking and tears gushed from beneath her closed eaves.

"NOOOOO!" she shouted into the night sky. "NOOOOO! IT CAN'T BE! CHIP! DALE! MONTY! ZIPPER!"

She cried in the dark and shouted the more, but no one could hear her, no one answered her call.

She was alone.

Her friends weren't there.

Stumbling against the mowed grass, Gadget ran back to the Plane. She knew what to do. Knew where she belonged.

"Come on, bottle, start up!" mouse yelled in frenzy at the deaf aircraft. This time the engine started at the third attempt and the Ranger Plane flew back to the Ice-Dome, its wings creaking with strain.

"Hold on, guys!" Gadget shouted directing the craft right into the center of the catastrophe. The poisoned air gave her a coughing fit while the acrid smoke irritated her eyes, but she wasn't going to put her goggles on. It didn't matter for her anymore. Everything will end soon, and they will be together again.

The helium balloon split with loud plop. The Plane twitched and started going down. Gadget was already discerning individual fire vortexes furiously devouring the remains of the airliner and the demolished stands. The heat became intolerable, the air was practically impossible to breathe in. She felt herself losing consciousness.

Good.

I'm on the way.

The faster it happens, the better…

An unknown force struck the bottom of the plane flipping her upwards and to the right. At first Gadget thought something had exploded but then found herself flying amidst the water splashes. She hit the water cannon's squirt—or rather, the squirt hit her.

The blow was so powerful the little plane flew up a couple of dozen feet high stitching the black smoke cloud all the way through. Gadget tried to bring the plane back on the previous course but it didn't obey. The direct hit by the cannon broke the clutch between the engine and the wing holders which got stuck at different angles to the hull.

Having lost both traction and its helium balloon, the Ranger Plane began spinning slowly but steadily. But the craft turned out to have been thrown so high up into the air by the water's blow that she overshot the Ice-Dome, flew over the square around it crowded with machines and men and reached the trees on the edge of the park. Having punched through a tall ash-tree's canopy, the Plane broke several branches. Covered with leaves, the Plane's remains plopped down on a big heap of freshly-mown grass.

Gadget, thunderstruck by falling, removed the leaves stuck to her face and, having breathed in the fresh air, coughed heavily. Her eyes were still burning but not so badly now. She moved her hands and legs and found nothing was broken. She got off very lightly, with only a couple of bruises and abrasions made by the branches that lashed against her face. Her jumpsuit was all covered with lampblack but on the whole she was unharmed.

It seemed plainly impossible after such a flight and crash. Her safety belt saved her. Gadget didn't remember having put it on. It must've been reflex, she mused. Saved by a pile of grass, a seat belt and a water cannon—and I hate every one of them.

Half heartedly she tried to wind the engine up again but this time it showed no sign of life at all. She scrambled out of cockpit and examined her vessel. It didn't take a rocket scientist to comprehend that without a full overhaul the Ranger Plane would never fly again. Her hull was cracked open and the bow together with the engine got almost fully detached from the rest of the craft. The wing-driving mechanism was completely destroyed, the wing holders torn by the roots from the hull. Next to nothing remained of the right wing, the helium balloon had vanished and now its lost pieces burned somewhere among the Boeing's wreckage.

"Why? Why am I so unlucky?!" Gadget exclaimed and kicked the broken plane. "I can't even die and burn in a crash when I want to! Not one little scratch! What the heck is all this for?!"

Gadget sat down on the grass heap clasping her head. Maybe it was a curse. After all of this one could easily become as superstitious as Monty… Monty. She remembered her old comrade who had befriended her father so long ago and started crying again.

"Excuse me, miss, do you need help?"

The loud voice came so unexpectedly that Gadget froze for a second. She hadn't heard any noises and thought she was hearing things. But when she lifted her eyes she saw the wide muzzle of a straw-colored Labrador Retriever right in front of her. He was a rescue dog wearing a red and white uniform jacket along with a gas mask dangling off his neck that was connected to a silver oxygen cylinder on his back.

Gadget looked back at the rescue dog from the grass heap, even with his eye level. "No, thanks," she wept, "I'm alright…"

"Well," the dog smiled sadly, "good to see that at least one of today's air crashes went without casualties. Small bright spot, at last. My name's Luke. I saw you falling down. Are you sure you weren't hurt? There's blood on your forehead…"

"Really?" Gadget passed her hand over forehead and winced with pain. "Never mind, it's just a scratch. I'm Gadget, and what's your name...? Oh, sorry, you seem to have said it already…"

"Luke. You know, I saw your flight from the very sports complex, and I hope you don't mind if I ask. Are you looking for someone?"

Gadget felt a faint gleam of hope appearing again. "Yes! I'm looking! I'm looking for Chip, Dale—oh, sorry, their names will hardly tell you anything. They're two chipmunks, an Australian muscle mouse and a small fly. Have you seen them?"

Luke scratched behind his ear. "No, unfortunately, I don't remember seeing anyone like that anyway. You should ask Vader, our unit commander. I arrived here later on, while he was among the first. He would know."

"Golly, that's great!" Gadget exclaimed gaily. "Where can I find him?"

"Climb onto me." Luke lowered his head on the grass near the mouse. "It's such a pandemonium here that even humans sometimes barely escape being run over. And if you get in the way nobody will even notice!"

Gadget gripped Luke by the collar and climbed on his neck. The dog straightened up and ran in the direction of the Ice-Dome by long leaps, looking to his sides every now and then. He stopped a couple of times to give way to ambulances passing by with a deafening wail, and in such moments Gadget had to grip his collar with all her strength in order not to fly over the dog's head and fall right under the wheels. If she tried to cross the square by herself at such a speed she would certainly be crushed by a wheel or someone's leg.

Luke moved forward confidently and it was obvious that it wasn't his first run in an environment like this. Finally they got to a large red-and-white van with a red Labrador Retriever wearing the same uniform as Luke, sitting near its back doors. The red-haired rescue dog was looking raptly at the group of men-rescuers standing not far from the van, so Luke's and Gadget's appearance went unnoticed.

"What's the news, Chewy?" Luke asked as he approached his fellow canine. Chewy turned his head and Gadget saw tears in his big brown eyes.

"Luke," Chewy said quietly and dropped his head, "Oby died. In sector three…"

"How?!" Luke asked and flinched so strongly that Gadget nearly fell down.

"The ceiling collapsed. Frank rushed to dig him out but then everything around started coming down and he himself was barely dragged out. All of us almost got killed there."

The dog pointed his head back at the group of people and only now Gadget noticed the aged man in an undone red-and-white jacket sitting on the emergency vehicle's footboard unaware of the others. He continuously stared at the broken dog lead he was holding and other rescuers time and again glanced at him and, as if apologizing for the intrusion, averted their eyes.

"My condolences…" Gadget uttered quietly.

"It's nothing. We all know it can happen. Thanks." Luke answered, swallowing a lump that formed in his throat. "He was my mentor. Taught me everything…"

"Who are you talking to?" Chewy asked.

"Oh, sure," Luke lowered his head and the mouse inventor clambered down to the ground. "Chewy, meet Gadget. Gadget, here is Chewy, my old friend and fellow trainee."

The red Labrador nodded civilly.

"Gadget's looking for her friends—" Luke began but the Rescue Ranger interrupted him.

"Have you seen two chipmunks, an Australian muscle mouse and a small fly? Maybe they're here somewhere, helping the injured?" She waved her hand towards the arena ruins.

Chewy shook his head. "No, I don't think so. I would have certainly remembered such a crew. You need to speak to Commander Vader. Oh, there he and Bronson are!"

Gadget looked where Chewy pointed and saw a big black Labrador in a gas mask slowly walking alongside his owner, the chief of the rescue unit. Bronson patted his four-legged partner on the back and went towards Frank, while Vader headed to Luke and Chewy. Having stepped up to them he wearily sat down and pulled his gas mask away, revealing deep wrinkles and two wide swaths of gray hair stretching from the tip of his nose to the corners of his eyes.

"Don't limp, guys," old dog began right off the bat. His voice was hoarse, shrill and gruff. "Oby won't return, but that's better than of age or arthritis. Who the heck is this?" he asked Luke as he pointed at Gadget, as if having noticed her just now.

"Her name is Gadget, Commander," Luke answered, "she's looking for her friends."

"Do they all consider us some lost-property office?" Vader spoke through set teeth. He addressed nobody in particular, but his remark hit Gadget like a thunderbolt. She was about to say something irate and suitable for the moment, but then Vader looked right at her and the words got stuck in her throat.

"Okay lady, come on, tell us everything—who, how many, and where. But please be quick. We've got a fire to deal with, you know."

"I… I'm looking for two chipmunks," Gadget managed, wondering how many times this recital would continue. "An Australian muscle mouse and a fly. Their names are Chip, Dale, Monterey Jack and Zipper. Their seats were in the sixth sector."

"In the sixth sector?" The black Labrador gave a short unpleasant laugh. "That's what you should have begun with, my dear. Just think about it. Don't you see what's going on here? Look around, open your eyes! There is NO sixth sector. It doesn't exist. It vanished. Sank into oblivion."

"But I thought, maybe somehow…" Gadget muttered slowly.

"Somehow what? An aircraft crashed there, mind you. It's such a big thing, you know? With wings. It flies. Sometimes poorly, just like today for example. There is no fifth, sixth or seventh sector anymore. Black hole. Inferno. We haven't got there yet and likely won't before morning. I'm sorry—as they say, nothing personal, but if I were you I would start searching for new friends."

Gadget couldn't believe the casual cruelty of it. "What did you—how can you!" She covered her face with her paws and burst into sobs, feeling herself turned inside out by Vader's words.

"Right, here come more hysterics," Vader grumbled. "How many have we seen today already? I lost count long ago. All right, then. You can check the hospital out but I don't think it'll help."

"What…hospital?" Gadget asked, still unable to control herself.

"What do you mean 'what hospital'?" Vader rolled his eyes. "Are you just out of hibernation? The Small Central Hospital for rodents on Portero Avenue. It opened nearly a month ago. There's chaos in there, for sure, but it's worse here so the change will be for better. But if your friends were in sector six when it happened, then here are my heartfelt condolences. I can only say that they didn't suffer. Their light was just switched off. Not so bad, actually."

Vader turned his attention back to his duties. "Luke, Chewy! Be at the sector two entrance in five minutes! We've sat here too long, time to work! Don't be late!"'

The gruff canine dashed up and headed to his human partner sitting next to a mourning Frank. Chewy sniffed and glanced at the crying mouse and, having murmured "duty calls, sorry" went after the commander.

"I am sorry…" Luke added, still next to Gadget.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!! GET AWAY FROM ME!! DARN ALL OF YOU!!" the inventor wailed and rushed away, her paws covering her eyes.

Run.

Run anywhere, if only as far from here as possible.

How could he?!

And he calls himself a rescuer?!

He is…he is…

"GADGET! LOOK OUT!"

Gadget stopped instinctively at Luke's shouted warning and suddenly something grabbed her by the jumpsuit collar and lifted her up. She screamed and started fighting back, but her tooth and nail effort hit empty air alone. Then a thundering roar came from the left and a gigantic four-axle hoisting crane drove past some few inches from her.

The torpid inventor followed the clearance lights and all of a sudden felt herself back on the ground again.

"Oh-ho, that was close!" Luke said having unclenched his teeth and let Gadget's overalls go. "It was careless on your part, upset or not. Please, forgive Vader. Don't think of him badly, he isn't always such a—well. Today is just a truly unlucky day."

"But that's no reason to have said that! 'Look for new friends'! Doesn't he understand…?"

"Please, Gadget, let me finish. I know what you thought and how you took it. Forgive the old dog. It's professional cynicism. Sometimes it's impossible to go without it, if only to avoid the mental hospital. Sometimes you see a lot of things and besides, he's been up the whole week. One emergency call after another—fires, an oil truck accident, explosions, flames. And now this crash. They've roused everybody still capable of moving.

"And now Oby's death. Vader and Oby were friends from childhood; their families had been friends long before their birth. They trained together, worked together. I assure you that when all this is finished he will lock up somewhere and his howling will shatter all the windows around. And besides, he'll insist on telling Oby's family the news…"

The labrador's words moved Gadget to the very depth of her soul. Perhaps Luke's right. She too acted under duress, after all, but she still couldn't forgive Vader. His words were just too painful and scary. A rescuer must never say things like that. Chip would never allow himself to say them.

Golly, if only he and the guys were okay!

"Thank you," she nodded, "you are very kind, Luke. And thanks for saving my life. I really didn't see or hear anything at all."

"Never mind. It's our job, after all."

"And what's about that hospital Vader was talking about? You know, I very rarely left my house this month…"

"Small Central Hospital? That's a medical center opened by Harold Bucksup the third inside of Central City Hospital. 1001 Portero Avenue is the address. They're huge white buildings, you won't miss it. If you get lost, ask. Many are heading there now. I hope you'll be fortunate enough to find your friends there…let me take you to the park gates, or, God forbid, you'll have to dodge some heavy truck once again."

"Thank you, Luke. I would've been surely gone without you." Gadget said, occupying her already usual place on the dog's back. "Oh, could you please take me to the park path in front of the sixth sector? I have the Rang—a car there."

"Aircraft, car…you are very resourceful girl, I must say!" Luke tried to cheer her up at least a bit, but Gadget didn't even smile. She was too depressed with emotions that overwhelmed her the moment she thought of the Rangermobile—emotions so intense that the mouse inventor wasn't even able to pronounce this very familiar word.

5

Once he let Gadget off by the Rangermobile, Luke bid farewell and ran back to sector 2 at the highest speed possible. Gadget watched him until the dog's red and white jacket disappeared in the crowd, and only then approached the vehicle for the second time. This time it didn't arouse such feelings as before, but she still needed some time to compel herself to climb onboard and turn the fan on. Doing this meant full acknowledgement that her friends weren't here, that they were either in Small Central Hospital or…

No, there is no 'or'! I'll find them there! Even if I have to stay in the hospital till morning. I'll find them, no matter the condition they're in and I'll visit them every day—no, I'll make this hospital my home! Be it in a closet, a corridor or right on the floor, whatever, but I'll stay there until they recover enough to return home. And everything will be just like before! No, much better! 'Cause I'll never let myself become carried away with something to the extent that my friends feel they're forgotten! I'll never let it happen again!

One had to be very careful driving through crowded streets and Gadget even had to turn off the road into some dark back streets a couple of times. But she persistently moved towards her goal, each and every second reminding herself that Chip, Dale, Monty and Zipper were waiting for her. She tore ahead at full speed, squeezing everything from the Rangermobile it was capable of.

The crowd already gathered at the gates of Central City Hospital could be seen from afar. The territory in front of the main building was fully occupied with people who hadn't had any idea of each other's existence by this day. They had different trades, education, financial position, etc. But the tragedy of Flight NA10031 equalized and drew them all together. Absolutely strange people tried to console those who received confirmation of decease of someone's significant, and rejoiced together with relatives of survivors. The voice from hospital loud speakers kept on calling surnames out, and one or more people having clenched their fists for good luck or crossed, headed for the doors where the news, good or bad, was already waiting for them. Someone went out joyous and calmed down, someone — crying, but relieved nevertheless, for agonizing suspense is more terrible than the worst news possible.

Gadget turned right at the hospital fence and drove alongside it to the front gates of Small Central Hospital — a low aperture in the stone wall hidden behind the bushes and a brick pile, opposite the hospital's auxiliary building. There in the semi-basement, the hospital for all kinds of rodents was situated, funded by the richest mouse in the city, Harold Bucksup III.

In due time Rescue Rangers helped him to recover his wealth, "fizzed" by Bubbles, The Coo-Coo Cola Cult insidious self-proclaimed leader. After Bubbles's gerrymander was uncovered, The Cult ceased to exist as a religious community and turned into a society of friends and associates. Time told that the Cult affair did Harold Bucksup good. His money and cheese were used to launch many charity projects, the acme of which being the opening of full-fledged hospital. Here the most prominent rodent doctors from all over the country were gathered under one roof and every rodent in need could get competent medical assistance.

Gadget left the Rangermobile near the brick pile and entered the gates and spacious courtyard with footpaths here and there. Right now these paths and all the open ground were thick with animals—mice, rats, squirrels, hamsters, along with other rodents of various size and colors. The system was similar to that of the humans — surnames calling, good or bad news, joy or sorrow…

Gadget went straight to the main entrance. At first it seemed impossible to get in the doors. She expected to hear angry shouts like "Stand in the line!", but then noticed that all the rodents waiting for a call lapsed into silence at the sight of her and parted. Gadget couldn't understand the cause of it but wasn't going to stop and ask. What if she was simply mistaken for someone else who must be let through, and when the error reveals itself they'll temper mercy with justice and kick her out?

The mouse inventor tried to walk confidently like a mouse in a hurry on serious business. At the doors she had to elbow her way through dense ranks of waiting relatives, but no one tried to stop her. On the contrary, no sooner had they glanced at her than they nodded and stepped aside. Is it possible? Is it possible that her friends were indeed here, and everybody's waiting for her? Yes, of course! That's the explanation! She hastened even more and nearly ran into the admission room.

The still-new hospital clearly wasn't ready for servicing so many patients at once. The lack of beds forced all available floor space to be turned into one big ward, the hall no exception. Someone was fully bandaged, someone only partially. Someone suffered several fractures while someone got off lightly with a couple of scars only. Someone was groaning, someone was screaming, someone suffered his pain in silence. Doctors rushed about from one end of the room to another. A strong scent of disinfectant was in the air. Gadget stopped, having no idea where to go and who to ask now.

"Miss? Excuse me, miss?"

Gadget didn't grasp at first that she was the target of this address. She turned her head and saw a female chipmunk right in front of her, wearing a crumpled hospital gown. The nurse's combed-back dark hazel hair was parted in the middle and topped with white cap, slid down on one side. You could easily tell from her face she was dead tired, but the look in her gray eyes was firm with purpose.

"Oh, sorry, were you talking to me?" Gadget asked in surprise.

"Of course you, miss! Come with me!"

The nurse gently but tenaciously took Gadget by her hand and pulled her along. Gadget had no choice but to follow. They went out of the crowded hall into the equally crowded corridor. At first Gadget actively turned her head left and right, but the sights were so shocking and distressing that she stopped and did her utmost not to take her eyes off the guide's white gown. At last the nurse stopped in front of one of the many white doors in the hospital. She knocked and entered without waiting for an answer. Gadget found herself in a small room furnished with a writing-table, two chairs, a medical locker, couch and washstand. The chipmunk left Gadget standing in the middle of the room and disappeared behind the semi-transparent curtain, which separated the consulting room from what seemed to be a big ward. Soon the nurse returned accompanied by aged doctor-mouse.

"I apologize, Doctor Stone, but the others have a full load now. And besides, this case is much simpler," the nurse explained while pointing at Gadget

"It's alright, Millie, don't worry. You may go." The doctor closed the door behind her, turned to Gadget and pointed at the couch.

"Have a seat, please," Doctor Stone said.

"Thanks doctor, but apparently there was some misunderstanding. I don't need medical assistance."

The physician raised his bushy eyebrows.

"Is that so? Excuse my lack of tact, but when did you look in a mirror last time?"

Doctor Stone waved at the big mirror hanging on the closed door's interior. Gadget looked in it and was stupefied. Yes, now it was clear why everybody stepped aside before her. Her hair was disheveled and blackened, her eyes red from tears and pungent smoke. Her normally pale face was covered with abrasions and soot. Her dirty jumpsuit was patterned with oil stains, the collar torn from one side.

"Golly," the mouse mumbled. "How did all that happen?"

Doctor Stone fetched some phials out of the locker, then turned to her. "Aren't you from the Ice-Dome?"

"No—that is, yes, I was there, but I didn't go to the game. My friends went to the game and I looked for them. I was told they could be here. Do you know if they are?

"Please, let me examine you and then we'll talk, agreed?" Stone wetted a sponge under the tap and started carefully rubbing Gadget's face clean. She winced when the sponge touched scratches but sat silently. Doctor Stone proceeded to the abrasions treatment. It was more painful and Gadget twitched involuntarily a couple of times. When the doctor finished, he put plasters on Gadget's forehead and cheeks.

He hemmed with satisfaction, then put the medicines back in the locker. "Well, how are you feeling now?"

Gadget warily touched her face. There was no pain. "Yes, Doctor Stone, thank you, it's much better now. But there was no need to worry, really. My scratches are nothing compared to—"

"You are right," Stone interrupted her. He was silent for a moment, than went on. "You see, I'm senior physician here, so they send the most serious cases to me. And you should excuse me, but it's really a pleasure to see a patient today who I can truly help. All right then, what's with your friends you wanted to talk about?"

"I'm looking for two chipmunks, an Australian muscle mouse and a fly," Gadget said, feeling that this phrase was gradually turning into an incantation of sorts. "Their seats were in sector six. I know it's the very center of the crash but…"

"Chipmunks, an Australian mouse and a fly, you say…" the doctor repeated pensively while tousling his sparse beard. "Interesting."

"What?! What's interesting?!" Gadget sprang up from the couch. "You know something about them, right?"

"Please, don't worry," Stone pronounced assuredly and gently made her sit down. "They weren't among my patients. Maybe you should check with the other doctors, but you see, someone already asked about them."

"Wait, how could that be…?" Gadget was bewildered. "Who asked?"

"One of our patients. He was delivered among the very first. Poor fellow was unconscious for a very long time, but the moment he came to his senses he asked whether there had been a gold-haired mouse, two chipmunks, a muscle mouse a fly delivered here. You are the gold-haired mouse, I presume. Besides you, what are your friends' names?"

"The chipmunks are Chip and Dale—" Gadget began but the doctor stopped her.

"Exactly! He mentioned these names too. You must definitely know each other."

"But who is he? What's his name? Where can I find him?"

"He's a rat. Tall, blond-haired. Oh, yes, he was pretty strikingly electrified. When the orderly took him off the stretcher—"

"SPARKY!" Rescue Ranger clasped her hands. "Yes, yes, I know him! I must talk to him immediately! Where is he?"

"This Sparky of yours got off very lightly, which is no wonder given that, according to his words, he was in the first sector on the opposite side from the crash site. You should look for him in the assembly hall, with the minor injuries patients. It's down the corridor to the right, through the big folding doors. Excuse for not accompanying you. I've got work." Stone waved his paw at the curtain. "Good luck looking for your friends. If they're here, we'll do everything we can, I promise."

"Thanks, Doctor!" Gadget shook hands with the old mouse and, inspired with hope, ran into the corridor. Stone dolefully looked at the door as it closed behind her. He couldn't make himself tell this young mouse what that patient, Sparky, had told him. It was too much for him to bear. Besides, it would be better if she knew it firsthand, from a friend. He sighed deeply, fetched another bandage pack and instruments kit from the locker and went to his patients.

6

Following the old doctor's instructions, Gadget quickly found the assembly hall. Normally it was a vast auditorium with a rostrum and rows of stalls for an audience. Now the rostrum was dismantled and the stalls moved to the walls in order to expand the usable space. Seats were placed at the disposal of victims with minor leg injuries. The rest of the room was occupied by those able to move on their own. In fact this hall became a waiting room where those who didn't need serious medical care waited for relatives or friends. Someone constantly arrived or went away, and time and again small jams formed in the wide opened doors.

Gadget fell into one of those. She snuggled herself against the wall not to interfere with the patient traffic and went along the perimeter looking for Sparky. After some time it occurred to her that Sparky might have been transferred somewhere but then Gadget saw a tall rat in a hospital robe sitting sideways to her. His hair, tousled with static electricity, was almost completely hidden by bandages. She didn't recognize him at first, but when he turned his head she immediately darted to him.

"Sparky! Sparky!" she began, waving her hands. The lab rat whipped around at the sound and, judging from his surprised expression, didn't recognize the soot-covered Gadget. But then a broad smile spread across his face and he met her with outstretched arms—as outstretched as it was possible in his current condition, for his right hand was in a cast while his left was bandaged from the finger-tips to the wrist.

"Gadget! Good gracious, I'm so glad to see you!" the scientist said, folding the mouse in his arms. Gadget hugged him too and felt him flinch.

She relaxed her embrace and apologized. "I hurt you? Excuse me, I got too enthusiastic."

"It's nothing," Sparky answered, wincing slightly but still smiling. "You look great! Haven't changed at all. Not counting the plaster, obviously."

"Oh, please!" Gadget waved the compliment aside and asked the most important question. "Have you seen the other Rescue Rangers? Doctor Stone said you asked about them. That you were present on the match and might know where they are."

Instead of answering, Sparky touched his injured neighbor by his shoulder and he, having nodded shortly, slowly stood up. "Have a seat."

Gadget felt herself chilled from within. Such an introduction promised no good at all. Her friends must be in a very bad condition. Maybe one of them even…she tried hard to collect herself and sank into the armchair. Sparky spoke while looking at her, but nevertheless slightly aside.

"Actually, I ended up in the Ice-Dome accidentally," he began in a roundabout way. "I didn't intend to go there, but Buzz — you remember Buzz, don't you? — by force of habit remembered the pathway through the sewers, so I thought, well, if such opportunity presented itself, why not take it and go?

"Buzz wasn't interested in hockey and stayed in MIT. It was a pleasure, you know, to see the native lands, visit the fields of glory, as they say. Oh, excuse me; I seem to have digressed. So, I made my way into the Ice-Dome and took a seat in sector one. The view wasn't the best—I was sitting at the service gallery level, almost under the dome, no stands there but free of charge. If you get caught, you'll be in trouble, but still—yes, yes, I'm sorry—I knew I'd have to sit high and brought some optics with me from the Institute. So I'm sitting there watching the match, sometimes looking at the stands across the field. And suddenly I see familiar faces in the sixth sector! The Rescue Rangers with their full complement! That is, I thought you were there too. I started looking for you, but you were nowhere to be seen."

"I stayed at home," Gadget explained, "I had to finish a couple of projects."

"I see," Sparky nodded. "So, I sit there looking for you, then Dale… I remember correctly, don't I? Chip's in the hat and Dale is other, right?"

"Yes, you're right," mouse agreed, trying to meet his eyes. Sparky was evasive but Gadget saw something was gnawing him. "Go on, please."

"Yeah, sure. So, Dale was in a hockey uniform. The Rangers just scored and he jumped and tore Chip's hat right from his head and started swinging with it. Chip got angry and tried to take it back. Honestly, I even forgot about the game! I laughed, watching them fight, and then Monterey…Monterey Jack, am I right?"

"Yes, Monterey Jack," Gadget answered very quietly.

"Oh, good, then I haven't forgotten. My memory doesn't always serve me—sorry, I digressed again. So I'm watching them and then 'Bang!' Everything shook and rocked. I fell from where I was sitting, down on top of someone. Then I looked up and there's a wall of fire moving towards me! Everyone rushed to the exits. I was almost run over but managed to stand up and run along. I don't remember getting to the street; should have been taken out by the crowd. I came to myself here. My hands and legs are damaged, a couple of fractured ribs, a little concussion. But that's nothing. I'm an easy case."

Sparky fell silent. Gadget sat, her paws clutching at the elbow-rest and stared somewhere past him.

"You mean…" her voice trembled and she wasn't able to finish the phrase.

Sparky nodded assent. "Gadget, I'm very sorry. Believe me, you are the last mouse in the world I would like to tell bad news. But—but they were there. When I learned that the aircraft had crashed into the sixth sector, I couldn't settle down for a very long time. I thought you were there all together, you know."

Gadget began to shake. She buried her head in Sparky's shoulder and sobbed violently. It was the end. She had visited every single place her friends could be, tried every single possibility, and found at last the final confirmation of the horrible deduction she had the very moment she saw that ill-starred news bulletin.

"It can't be! Tell…tell me that…it's not true!" Gadget cried.

Sparky heard her voice, muted by sobbing and his clothes. He answered nothing, just embraced Gadget closer and dug his face into her hair to hide the tears from those around. And they just sat there, two mourning souls in a crowd of sorrow, stricken by common disaster.

7

Salvage operations at the crash site continued nonstop. Wailing ambulances flashed by deserted avenues and fire helicopters thundered in the skies. Thousands of people in their homes, in cars stuck in traffic jams, in the lobbies and courtyards of the hospitals, all of them waited for any tiny bit of news concerning their friends and relatives. They still had hope. Gadget didn't have it any more.

It was way past 2 AM when the Rangermobile slowly, like a hearse, drove under the arch of the city park trees. In the past four hours Gadget had experienced almost as many emotional rises and downfalls than during all her previous life. She found the road to home with her reflexes only. All her thoughts were filled with images from the recent but now seemingly enormously distant past. Gadget hasn't felt such spiritual bankruptcy since she lost her father. She was alone again. The lone little jumpsuit-wearing mouse with the mind-bashingly high IQ slowly drove through the dark and desolate park. Behind her the Ice-Dome blazed in the distance like a torch. Ahead of her an empty team headquarters awaited—or rather for the team that was.

When Gadget saw the light streaming out of the headquarters' windows, she perked up for a moment. A flash of belief that Sparky had erred and just mistaken her friends for somebody else darted in the back of her mind. But when she ran into the hall she understood she had simply forgotten to switch the lights off. Gadget turned off the TV, constantly displaying footage of the ruined sports arena and just sat there on the sofa for some time, her legs crossed and forehead set against her knees. She had never considered their headquarters large. Quite the contrary, she always lacked space for her new inventions. But now the house seemed tremendous and imposing, like a medieval castle.

"How can it be, guys…" Gadget whispered. She raised her head and saw a blue piece of paper on the table under the saucer. Her ticket, left by Monty. Sector 6, seat 8. Her seat. Her rightful place.

--

"Gadget, I want to tell you, to ask you to fly away. You must save yourself. I insist on it! Someone ought to stay. I entrust you with this task. THAT'S AN ORDER!"

--

Chip. Bottlebottom. A little more than a month ago. ()

She wasn't able to make the choice then. She refused to make it. She collected her thoughts and found a way out. She beat fate that time. Now fate took its revenge and left her with no choices whatsoever. Fate made the choice for her.

Gadget got up slowly and went to the lower floor. It was dark and cold there — a broken window boarded up in a hurry still let the cool night air in. The mouse inventor forgot when she had eaten for the last time but didn't feel hungry. And even if she were hungry, she wouldn't be able to eat anything. She bypassed the kitchen and entered Chip's and Dale's room. The former Chip's and Dale's room.

Common things abounded here--common order on Chip's half, common disorder on Dale's half. Everything as usual. Except this time Chip and Dale were missing. And without them the room became a museum. A memorial.

Gadget stepped up to the wardrobe and passed her hand over the suits hanging inside. Chip's austere black tail-coat. Dale's clumsy stripped jacket. Sureluck Jones' brown trench coat with the button up front and Inverness cape Chip brought back from Baskerville-Hall. Super agent Double-O-Dale's white tuxedo. Every article of clothing had its own history. But the future is the same for all of them — to hang in the wardrobe, waiting for their owners, forever gone.

She closed the wardrobe and went back to the door, but stopped at the sight of Dale's collection of mini CDs. Gadget recalled that it had taken her almost a week to assemble the mini-CD player for him out of several old human CD drives. Chip didn't like this undertaking, arguing that they would be able to rest no longer because of the loud music, shouting and yelling. Dale insisted that only powerful speakers could reproduce "the full depth of modern showbiz."

Their quarrel almost ended in a fight when Gadget offered Dale to build him special headphones capable of reproducing the music's full expression. The chipmunk was enraptured with the idea and said that it had been a dream of his for a long time and now he wouldn't need, according to his words, "to share the real art with one as ignorant as Chip." Chip, albeit hurt by these words, nevertheless was also satisfied and the problem was settled.

Gadget gently moved her fingers across the CD's plastic spines. Dale did his utmost to record, research and gather all this music, a rich collection indeed. All the Iron Goose albums, along with the Aciders and Dead Heads. And one disk by A-Kha, "The Theme Song from 'Dirk Suave: The Daylight Savings. Single.'" This cover was strikingly different from the rest in its cover design. No monsters or eerie phantasmagoric pictures here, just Dirk Suave, encircled with a sniper scope frame, taken from the title sequence to all the films about the brave super agent. On the top there were three photographs of smiling young men, apparently band members.

--

"And you know, tomorrow A-Kha will have a grand concert in our city! One performance only! I've already looked for the seats! I'm pretty sure you'll like it…"

--

Dale. Headquarters. Today.

A teardrop rolled down Gadget's cheek and fell onto the album's cover. She wanted to wipe it but her hands were numb. The plastic case slipped out of her fingers and sank down on the floor. Gadget screamed, squatted to pick it up and suddenly saw two more discs by this band standing in the utmost and dustiest corner of the shelving. She carefully, so as not to dump out all adjacent disks, took them out.

The first of these two discs was entitled "Lesser Earth, Greater Sky", and its cover showed fuselage of the aircraft. Gadget shuddered and hurried to thrust it back. Aircraft was the last thing she wanted to see now. And she knew it would remain the last thing for a very long time.

One more disk remained, its cover a big black-and-white photograph. The same three men were here as on the single's cover, but this time older, wiser looking. No wonder, considering that this disc, according to the data on the rear, was published three years later. "West of the Sun, East of the Moon". Who knows, maybe that's where the place my friends belong now. Dale wanted her to go to the concert. To listen to their songs. He was sure she would like them. And although the concert was canceled because of the catastrophe, she would fulfill this wish, which turned out being his last.

Gadget returned to the hall and put the headphones on, switched off the light and sat down on the sofa. At first there was nothing, then distant bursts of thunder were accompanied by rain. How appropriate Gadget thought, listening to the introduction played against a stormy background. Very calm and tuneful music. So different from what Dale usually listened to. Could Dale really like it? But why would he keep discs with such songs amid his heavy metal discs? Unless he was hiding them from somebody. From Chip, most likely.

"I'll never let you see

The way my broken heart

Is hurting me

I've got my pride and

I know how to hide

All my sorrow and pain

I'll do my crying in the rain"

…or, maybe…

"If I wait for stormy skies

You won't know the rain

From the tears in my eyes

You'll never know that

I still love you so

Though the heartaches remain

I'll do my crying in the rain"

…from me?

"Raindrops falling from heaven

Could never take away my misery

But since we're not together

I'll pray for stormy weather

To hide these tears I hope

You'll never see"

A kaleidoscope of memories started flashing in her mind:

--

It was in the headquarters' garage. She'd just finished the Rangermobile. The blades of the fan don't hold, though.

"I picked this just for you!"

It's Chip…

"Thanks, Chip, it's perfect! This should keep the prop on!"

It couldn't come off better with the prop. With Chip's flower, on the other hand…

"Great! Now we can go on a picnic!"

This time it's Dale.

"Oh, Dale, you're so thoughtful! Come on, everyone! We're going on a picnic!"

It looked so natural! To go for a ride together to celebrate the completion of one of her most successful projects to date. To try the new vehicle out, test it with a full load.

"Everyone? But I meant—"

She never learned what exactly Dale meant then.

--

"Someday when my crying's done

I'm gonna wear a smile and

Walk in the sun

I may be a fool

But till then, darling,

You'll never see me complain

I'll do my crying in the rain"

--

The landing strip in front of the hangar. She was screwing the engine's cover on, finishing a repair to the Ranger Wing after the clash with Winifred the Witch and the crash that ensued. That was when she saw that the existing equipment wasn't enough to force the Wing out of a spin, and later installed additional pullout flaps. But that will be later on.

"Hi, Gadget. Uh, do you know where Dale is?" Chip asked approaching her. She recalled she was surprised with his anxiously looking about. Usually Chip didn't worry about Dale very much.

"Foxglove's teaching him to hang glide!"

"You mean, you and I are alone?" chipmunk asked, his voice transformed in a fraction of a second.

"Looks that way."

"Gadget, there's something I've been wanting to tell you…" Chip began, taking her by the hand and drawing her up to him.

"GANGWAY!"

Here came Dale. He glided down on Chip and carried him away into the sky. Then they fell down somewhere, into the fountain or the like. At that time she was astonished by this coincidence.

Or was it coincidence?

Surely, Dale couldn't have heard what Chip was saying.

But maybe he didn't like what he saw.

--

Now Gadget remembered and reconsidered the whole Foxglove thing. The bat, enamored with Dale, disappeared just as suddenly as she had showed up. One dank autumn morning the Rescue Rangers found her note lying on the table in the hall. In it Foxglove thanked them for everything they had done for her and told of her intention to return home, from where Winifred took her.

Dale, while he looked sad, just parted his hands and said, "Well, it was to be expected. She'll feel better there." Such a reserved reaction didn't correspond to Dale's nature at all, but at that time Gadget didn't pay attention to it. Nor to Monty's comment "So that's what you were talkin' about so long yesterday evening…"

That note was just a polite excuse. The true cause of Foxglove's leaving was known to Dale only. And now to her too…

"Early morning

Eight o'clock precise

I see the lonely August sun arise

Say you know

You will

Move me like you do

Out on the fields...

I'm waiting the whole night through…"

One more song. One more image.

--

Military hospital. Restricted area. Lots of vehicles and many more soldiers. The news about a captured alien agitated everybody. Security was so tight it was impossible to walk or fly through. With the modemizer at hand, though, it was possible to phone through. This way had some undocumented side effects attached, though.

"Hey, Dale, why do I have your shirt?"

"You've got more of me than just my shirt!"

Now, after all the time passed, it seemed funny. But right then they were past laughter. Especially she was. She was so carried away searching for some kind of pants that she paid no heed to Dale's next remark:

"I've always wanted to be close to Gadget, but not this close!"

She snapped at him not to touch her body—that was pretty simple, and she coped with it. But to hear, understand and evaluate his words…

--

All the songs merged. Memory fragments lined up like a movie.

"Through the fire and rain

Through the wilderness and pain

Through the losses, through the gains

On love's roller coaster train

I call your name…"

--

Today. Smashed kitchen. Her friends looking at her with hope. Chip's heartfelt speech…

"We, as a team, we've gone through many so many hardships. I believe that the invisible link between us is strong enough to endure even harsher things but it doesn't make it any less scary. With each passing day we see you more and more seldom. And we rarely hear your voice, your laughter. We miss you. I miss you…"

And here Dale interrupts. Not a minute earlier. Not a second later. Here and now, the very moment Chip proceeded from common to personal.

--

"Your coat is hanging loosely

On your slender frame

There's many roads to leave by

But few come back again…"

Word by word. Chord by chord. Shot by shot.

She used to think of Dale's tricks as amusing tomfoolery only. And each separate episode could be considered a joke or mere coincidence indeed. But taken together they, like stones carefully glued into a mosaic, formed the big picture. The CD's she found were the last missing piece, and now the picture was complete.

I was so blind…

"Take a look around and see

What's stopping you is stopping me

One moonless night we'll make it right

And vanish in the dark of night…"

She was aware that sometimes she got too carried away with the machinery, but treated that like something quite natural. She was good at it, and there was nothing wrong with that, right? But now the time devoted to inventions seemed wasted. Yes, her workshop was crammed with various inventions, the whole collection of vehicles stood in the garage, the planes on the landing strip—one plane, that is—never mind. That wasn't the point. She knew the slightest details of blueprints and schematics, but, it turned out, she was totally ignorant of others' feelings. It was too irrational for her to be of any value.

One more rainy song echoed boomingly in her tormented soul:

"So many lifetimes you've been waiting for it

All through the good times

When you tried to ignore it

You hesitate

It's come too late

You hear the sound

Of when wheels engage…"

--

"As long as you know where you belong, that's what's important".

--

Her words addressed to poor Pop Top, deceived by his closest companion. Her words brought faith and hope back to him. She found such bright words for him. But for her friends? There wasn't enough time, it turned out.

"Forgive me, guys…" she whispered in the darkness. "Forgive me, Dale…"

--

"They…they…died…last year…"

--

Her words again. There, in Bottlebottom, she thought it was a good way to lull the enemies' vigilance and give Dale and Zipper a free hand. Everything turned out in the best way possible. But didn't it turn out that by 'killing' her friends in her enemy's mind, she herself courted their death and is paying for this?

Now today's episodes started playing back before her inner sight. Here she, distraught with grief, flies into the fire but is saved by an accidental water cannon squirt. Here she, having flown over the entire sports complex and every square before it, plummets through a tree's canopy and lands right in the center of a grass heap. One foot left or right and that would be the end. But no, she stayed safe and sound. She was saved by Luke, who risked his own life to snatch her from under the multi-ton crane and who, despite his commander's direct order, remained in place and watched her running away.

Three flukes — a pattern. And if she wasn't allowed to redeem her fault with death, it remains only…

--

"You must fly away."

"I won't fly away without all of you! I won't leave you!!"

"YOU MUST! I ORDER YOU! DO YOU HEAR? THAT'S AN ORDER!"

--

…to redeem it with life.

Pop Top. The Coo-Coo Cola Cult. Harold Bucksup III. Small Central Hospital.

You should know where you belong, that's all.

--

"And you should excuse me, but it's really a pleasure to see a patient today whom I can truly help…"

--

Her inventions can't resurrect Chip, Dale, Monty and Zipper. But that doesn't mean they can't help someone else.

Tomorrow…that is, today in the morning, she'll gather everything which can be useful and go to Portero Avenue, 1001. She'll invent something. It will work. It should work. She'll be working for herself and for her friends. Who knows, maybe her equipment will save someone diagnosed hopeless by the doctors.

In any case, I'll try. I have to try. Too bad I can't return and change everything…

8

Gadget didn't remember falling asleep. But once she was awake she felt something was wrong. She tossed and turned, getting out from under the blanket.

BLANKET?!

Gadget sat up abruptly. At first she didn't understand where she was, but then she recognized her room and her bed. And her pink nightgown she was wearing.

"Could I have become a sleepwalker?" Gadget asked herself.

She got out of bed and looked at the alarm clock at the bedside. 7 AM. Just like yesterday… Gadget thought and roused herself. It's time to make all ready for the hospital duty. Time is of the essence! Someone may be dying there right now and I could be saving them! She grabbed her jumpsuit thrown offhandedly on the nearby chair…

A clean jumpsuit.

Well, not too clean, but in comparison with yesterday's condition…okay, so I'm not only a sleepwalker, but also a sleepdresser and a sleepwasher. And sleep seamstress! And…

Gadget felt her face all over then looked at the mirror on the wardrobe's door and saw that everything was all right—no scars, no scratches, no bruises, no plasters!

"It can't have healed so quick!" Gadget said to her own reflection. "On the other hand, who knows, maybe Doctor Stone's a better doctor than I thought. Oh, speaking of the doctor, I'd better get going!."

With her jumpsuit under her arm, Gadget exited her room and headed to the bathroom. Passing Monterey Jack's bedroom, she stopped and opened the door. As one would expect, the room was dark and empty.

"Forgive me, Monty," she sobbed. She closed the door softly and went downstairs. Already on the middle floor she smelled a cheese scent coming from the lower floor where kitchen was. But I didn't cook anything yesterday. Must be wishful thinking. Or is it?

"Golly, what if I truly became a somnambulist and sleep-cooked something at night?!" Gadget exclaimed and ran to check whether there indeed was some pan forgotten on the stove. The first thing she saw on arrival into the kitchen was the window. It was absolutely intact, despite Dale flying in right through it yesterday. She'd certainly heard that somnambulists could do things beyond the capabilities of normal people and animals, but to repair a window shattered into pieces!

And when Gadget was able to tear her gaze off the window and look at the oven where a strong cheese aroma was indeed coming from, she dropped her jumpsuit and froze stock-still.

At the oven, his back turned to the door, stirring cheese soup with a ladle in his large hand stood Monterey Jack.

End of Part 1

() See story 'Malf-Life'.