The Bikini Break
VIII - Unbelievable Results
“How’s the weather look?” Gary inquired.
Gordon held out the latest satellite photo and pointed at the barometer. “It’s still coming on. Pressure’s still falling. It could still bounce off this high pressure ridge, though, and stay north of us, but it’s chancy.”
Gadget glanced at the photo. “Sounds like we take the path of least regret.”
“Which one is that?” Gordon asked.
“It’s a meteorologist’s term.” Gadget explained. “They alert the entire section of coastline that stands a chance of being hit by a storm while there’s still time to evacuate. They know all of the area won’t be hit, but it produces the least regrets.”
“So, if we can’t finish the job on one dive, we’ll still have time to refill the air tanks and recharge the batteries for another try?” Gary asked.
“I’ll replace the batteries,” Gadget said. “It’ll take less time than recharging. But we’ll get in a second dive before the typhoon hits.”
“Here are your film badges,” Gordon said. He handed a small white square marked with a “T” to Gadget, another marked “Y” to Gary. “Keep these on every second. I’ll develop the film and read ‘em when we’re finished.”
Gary squinted at the badge. “Do you know how to read these?”
“Sure. If you have to develop it, you’ll probably live. If it turns black and the edges curl up, you’re already dead.”
“You peeked at the instructions, didn’t you?” Gary said.
“I wish you two really were kidding,” Gadget said nervously.
After a moment of awkward silence, Gary said, “Okay, let’s get below and make with the glassworks.”
Gadget and Gary entered the plexiglass sphere which was arranged as a double deck in order to fit both occupants. Gary’s seat was the lower one, facing aft, and giving him control of the mechanical arms, welding nozzle and glass rods. Gadget took the upper seat facing forward to pilot the craft. Even this set-up put them nearly in contact with each other. Gary gave the manipulators a test twist and ran them through the range of motion as Gadget climbed through the hatch. As she settled in and checked the motors and steering, Gary looked up and found himself with an interesting view. If Gadget had stretched her legs out, she could have easily rested her feet on his shoulders. His gaze drifted to a point well above her knees.
“Gadget, this is the most inspiring submarine design in the history of the Silent Service.”
“Shame on you!” she scolded. “I built it like this so we could both see where the container is below us! You just watch where your watching, Mr. Squirrel!”
“I’m watching what I’m watching and what I’m watching is definitely worth watching.”
“Stop that! Just stop!” she admonished. “Keep your mind on business!”
He looked up into her eyes with a big smile. “There’s more than one kind of business my mind’s on. We’ve got a date, remember?”
She firmly but gently planted her bare foot on his muzzle. “Eyes down, Mister. Ready to submerge.”
Gadget opened the ballast valves and the Scruffy Bubbles began to settle deeper in the lagoon, trailing the welding hoses and their cotere of impertinent floats. She started the main motors and maneuvered to a point near the container, then allowed the sub to sink slowly until the blue glow of the radioactive materiel gave them the final bearing.
“We’re almost over it,” Gadget advised him. “Depth 170. Start the torch.”
“Okay. I’m pointing it dead ahead. Be ready to counter the thrust.”
“I’ve got it,” she said confidently.
Gary opened the gas valves and pushed the igniter switch. The torch nozzle immediately erupted in a massive bloom of boiling bubbles, tinged with a bright yellow glow as the mixture demonstrated that you could produce fire underwater. Gary adjusted the gas flow until he got a hot, blue flame. Gadget adroitly countered the thrust of the welding gas with rapid adjustments of the drive motors. Her hands and feet danced with the controls and held the sub steady.
“Watch the depth,” Gary warned. “I’m going to start melting the glass.”
“Go for it!”
Gary began to feed the glass rod into the pinpoint of the flame. The glass flared the flame to a bright orange and the rod glowed, softened, liquefied and began to drip. Gadget watched the molten glob rapidly sink toward the container. The first drop missed, but she adjusted for the slight current and the distorting effect of the water. The third large drop fell straight into the opening.
“On target!” Gary called. “Hold ‘er steady.”
“Is it working?” Gadget asked urgently. “Is it still soft enough when it hits?”
“Looks like it. It’s almost like the stuff in a Lava Lamp when it gets there, but it’s making steam and I think it’s fusing on contact. Stay on it!”
Gary focused on the glass rod being consumed by the torch. Over fifteen minutes and three glass rods, they systematically filled the container.
The sub suddenly gave a gentle lurch as a metallic thump echoed through the crew sphere. Gadget made rapid adjustments with the controls, but couldn’t hold the sub in position. The molten glass began to fall off target.
“I hope that was something you planned,” Gary said.
“Something’s wrong with one of the ballast control valves,” Gadget said urgently. “I don’t think the electrical system’s as waterproof as I’d hoped.”
The sub gave a sharp shudder and Gadget compensated with a twist of the drive motors.
“The valve solenoid’s shorting out! I’m having trouble holding depth!”
Gary hesitated just a moment. “Get closer!” he ordered.
“Are you sure?”
“Three feet closer. We’ve gotta finish it now!”
Gadget swiveled the drive motors and drove the sub deeper under power, not relying on the now-uncertain valves. The Geiger counter took up a steady, castanet clicking. She saw at once what Gary was doing. Closer to the container, he was feeding the glass rod to the flame faster. The glass was still fusing as it touched down, but it was filling the container faster. A hollow boom shook the sub. Gadget’s hands flashed over the controls as the sub dipped lower, then rose again. The Geiger counter gave a brief, rattlesnake buzz.
“The waterproofing isn’t going to hold against the pressure!” she warned. “I can’t keep control!”
“Stay with it! I’ve almost got it!”
A deep, loud crack like a submerged rifle shot made them both jump. “The ballast control valve blew!” Gadget cried. “We’re sinking!”
The Scruffy Bubbles began to settle deeper in spite of Gadget’s efforts to force it to rise. The Geiger counter’s clicking rapidly increased. Gadget suddenly got a sharp, metallic taste in her mouth, the first warning of radiation poisoning. The molten glass piled up to the rim of the canister, melding with the threads at the opening. Gary cast off the glass rod and reversed the welding nozzle, pointing it back at the sub.
“Gary!” Gadget yelped. “You’ll melt the sphere!”
He didn’t respond, but instead aimed the flame past the plastic of their protective bubble. The bolt that secured the sphere was stainless steel. The frame of the sub was tubular structural steel, and neither would give way to the torch in time. But the bracket that held the two together was thin aluminum. It withstood the violent assault of the torch flame for perhaps two seconds before melting through. The sphere ripped away the self-sealing air and electrical connections and began a rapid, uncontrolled ascent.
“We’re rising too fast!” Gadget declared. “We’re gonna pop up like a missile!” She looked down at their chairs. “And I forgot to put in seat belts.”
“No brakes, eh?” Gary grinned.
“Don’t you start with that ‘no brakes’ stuff,” Gadget scolded.
They burst through the surface and kept climbing on momentum, soaring high into the air, then arcing downward. Gadget lifted out of her seat in free-fall, her head grazing the top of the bubble. Gary floated up, reached out, grabbed her ankle and forcefully pulled her to him. He wrapped his arms around her just before the sphere hit the water with a tremendous splash. Gadget, to her horror, could feel Gary’s chest mash down like a pillow as he absorbed the full force of the impact. The sphere steadied itself, the bracket and heavy bolt pulling the bottom down and the hatch to the top. Gadget pushed herself away from Gary and found his face contorted in pain.
“Doggone it!” she cried, “I told and told you not to protect me! Now look at you!”
“Okay,” he gasped. “Next time, I’ll land on top. It’ll look more natural with you on the bottom, anyway.”
“STOP that! You and your off-color mind!”
“We better get out of here,” he said through clenched teeth. “I hear water coming in.”
“It’s just a trickle,” she reassured him. “Gordon’s coming in the power boat. I’ll have him tow us to the raft. It’ll keep us afloat even if the sphere fills up with water.”
Gadget signaled her directions to Gordon with diver’s signs. He caught the rim of the hatch with a fishhook grapple and towed them carefully to the raft. Once it was made fast to the moorings, Gordon stood on the hatch as he cracked it to keep the pressure change from injuring their ears. The air escaped around the gasket with an enormous flatulent noise.
“Ooof!” Gary exclaimed as his ears popped. “That sounded like someone sat on a drive-in whoopee cushion.”
“How bad is he?” Gordon called from the hatch.
“I don’t know,” Gadget answered. “I landed right on top of him when we hit.” Behind her back, Gary broadly stuck his tongue out at his partner, now feeling avenged for Gordon’s wild ride with her.
“I’ll come get him.”
“There isn’t room,” Gadget said. “I’ll hand him up to you. Gary, keep your arms wrapped tight around your sides.”
“I can get up... Arrrgh!” He could barely lift his head off the deck.
“For once in your life, do as you’re told!”
“Aye aye, Cap’n ma’am,” he grimaced terribly. “Doing as told.”
The fact that he gave in at once worried her. He must be hurt worse than I thought. She wrapped her arms around his hips and hoisted him up with surprisingly little effort. Gadget climbed up over the seats until she got close to the top, then pushed him toward the hatch. Gordon grabbed a generous handful of squirrel hide. It stretched like melted cheese.
“Good thing you’ve got plenty of pelt, partner,” Gordon quipped as he hauled his damaged comrade topside. Gadget followed and they placed Gary under the shade of the awning. Gordon expertly examined Gary’s injury and sat back with a relieved expression.
“I don’t think you broke anything. Maybe some torn cartilage. I’ll wrap your ribs and we’ll get you checked out at home.” He took out a large roll of gauze. “Sit up, here.”
“Here’s a stool,” Gadget offered.
“Where did you get a stool?” Gordon asked.
“I just built it. I figured you’d want to wrap him up, and it’s easier sitting on a stool.”
“Little miracles are still miracles,” Gary said. “Thanks.”
The sub dragged the welding tanks under when it sank.” Gordon said. “What about the bubble?”
“The Scruffy Bubble’s done all we asked it to,” Gadget said. “Let it go.”
Gordon handed his razor sharp folding knife to Gadget, and she cut the lines to the glassy sphere. It bobbed away from the raft for a couple of minutes, looking like a strange Japanese fishing float before it issued a loud gurgle and finally sank.
“Adieu, Scruffie Bubbles.” Gary said quietly. “Rest well, brave little ship. All duty done, all cares ended.”
Gadget rested her hand on his shoulder watching the last bubbles rise and dissipate. “I guess you know more about the sea than I gave you credit for.”
Gordon got busy wrapping Gary’s mid-section, with Gadget helping to keep the bandage snug. Gordon gave a sharp tug and Gary’s breath came out in a whoosh.
Gordon stepped back and admired his handiwork. “Can you still breathe?”
“Not real well,” Gary said, looking a bit alarmed.
“Good,” Gordon said. “Then this is just tight enough.” Gadget chuckled at Gary’s pained expression and patted his head.
“Just take shallow breaths,” she advised. “It’ll keep you from trying any more heroics for a couple of days.”
“Let’s get ashore,” Gary said wearily. “There’s nothing more to do out here.”
“Hold it,” Gordon said sternly. “Gimmie those film badges. I don’t want them to ‘accidentally’ fall in the drink.”
Gadget gave up the badge, looking slightly puzzled. Gary looked like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar as he turned over his badge. Gadget felt a chill run through her as Gordon’s implication hit home. If he was worried about Gary ditching the badges...
“Do you think we were overdosed?” she asked.
“Not really,” Gary said. “But ‘Doctor’ Gordon isn’t going to trust my judgment, are you?”
“Nope,” he responded. “There’s too much at stake. I can develop and read these on shore. Now we can go.”
They boarded the powerboat and headed in. As they approached the beach they could see the shore teeming with the ‘Iloe, cheering and celebrating.
“How do they know we did it?” Gordon wondered. “We must have looked like a bunch of idiots out there?”
“They just know,” Gary answered. “They always know. It’s one of the Mysterious Forces of the Universe.”
The throng of mice cheered as the three somewhat chagrined rodents came ashore. While some pulled the boat above the surf line, others hoisted its occupants up onto their shoulders and carried them across the island to the village. It was clear from the fact that all wore ceremonial dress that a celebration was in the offing, and the heroes’ welcome was their invitation.
“Chief Wogga Wogga!” Gary called as the trio was set back on their feet. “I thought you retired.”
“No such luck, Danger Man,” the chief replied. “Business has been lousy.”
“These are my partners. Gordon and Gadget.”
“Welcome, both of you. And thank you.” Chief Wogga Wogga said. He shook Gordon’s hand warmly and took Gadget’s hand gently. But he held her hand a long moment as he gazed at her, as if he recognized her, or was trying to remember. His attention made Gadget a bit nervous.
“Ummm, hi,” she said shyly. The chief smiled broadly and let her go.
“‘Iole Palahlaha!” the chief declared. “These three have come from distant America to set right the danger we faced. The have gone to the bottom of the sea and saved our homes and our lives. We are safe from the poisoned metal from the barren lands beyond the sunrise. Let’s party!”
“Garrr-eee,” Gadget hissed out of the corner of her mouth. “How does he know about all that? We’re supposed to be working in secret!”
“You can’t keep a secret from the ‘Iole Palahlaha,” he chuckled. “I know. I’ve tried.”
In the circle made by the huts of the village a feast was being prepared. Fruits from several islands were laid in half a coconut for all to enjoy. Nearby a firepit sizzled and sent a distinct aroma over the guests.
“This is a real treat,” Gary said. “A whole pit-roasted oyster is only for very special occasions.”
The evening passed in friendly conversation and tall tales, with Gordon giving a fantastically embellished account of their undersea adventure.
“That was well told, Gord,” Gary laughed after he finished the tale. “It was mostly borscht, but well told.”
“Yeah,” Gadget agreed. “I’m almost sorry I missed the octopus attack and the help we gave to the Atlantean Mermice.”
The feast culminated in traditional dances, the first a celebration of good sea harvests, successful trading ventures and the return of the young men with new brides. It was reserved for the men, and they invited the Two Scruffy Guys to join in.
Gadget grabbed Gary’s arm as he got up. “You’re not going to dance! You’re hurt!”
“I’m not hurt that bad,” he assured her. “This is too rare a chance to miss out on.”
As the dance progressed, she could tell Gordon was faking it, following the steps of those around him. And while Gary danced with less vigor than the others, owing to his injuries, Gadget was impressed with his determination. She slowly realized that he already knew all the words of the song and the steps of the dance.
“I thought you said you’d only been here twice?” Gadget asked him sharply when he returned.
“Once was for five months. I can’t talk about that one.”
“You romped around with dozens of naked mousettes for five months!?”
“Gad-get,” he reproved, “I’m not allowed to talk about it.”
“I’ll bet there’s a lot to not talk about!”
A group of those same young mousettes approached and took Gadget by the hands, pulling her to her feet. It was the girl’s turn to dance, and they clearly intended her to be a part of it. They tied a grass skirt over her swimsuit and draped a lei around her neck. Gadget was glad she wasn’t relying on the floral necklace to cover her chest as the other girls did.
Gadget had learned the basics of Polynesian dance during her travels with her father years before. She picked up the rhythm at once and allowed her body to express the music. Slowly, her eyes drifted closed, her body swayed alluringly, and her hands drew those pictures in the air that had made the dance the signature of the exotic tropical islands. The music came to an end as Gadget made the traditional bow of the head to the spectators. A great whoop and a cheer went up, and she opened her eyes to discover that the other girls had yielded the stage to her, and she had danced half the number all alone. She blushed furiously and scampered back between her friends.
“Beautiful, Gadget!” Gordon crowed. “Absolutely magnificent!”
“Golly! I didn’t know they were going to make me a solo act!”
“You were wonderful,” Gary said. “That dance speaks with the hands. I’m not sure about the accent, but I liked what you were trying to say!”
The party concluded and farewells were said. Gadget linked arms with her friends and pointed them back to their camp. The ‘Iloe girls playfully scolded her as they departed.
“You’re being greedy, taking them both!” one girl shouted.
“Leave one of ‘em for us!” called another.
Gary glanced down at the smiling mouse. “Aren’t you going to share?” he grinned.
Gadget simply snugged their arms tighter to her and said, “Mine!”
* * *
“Is it bad?” Gadget asked Gary as he checked the morning’s weather map.
“Gordon was right about that high pressure ridge,” he answered. “The typhoon is veering north. There won’t be anything worse than some storm waves here. Chucky radioed back that our discovery has already kicked up its own storm in Washington. There should be a search team from the Department of Energy out here by the end of the week.”
Gordon approached from the shade of the ferns. His serious expression and the paper he was tapping in his hand made Gadget’s heart sink.
“Is it bad?” she asked again.
“The film badges show you’re both within the safety margin, but just barely. You’d better not risk even getting a tooth X-rayed for the next six months.”
“Whew!” Gadget breathed. “That’s a relief. I guess we will get a few days to play on the beach before we go home.”
“Oh, we can enjoy the beach,” Gary said. “But we still have a very important rescue to carry out. We have a mouse to save.”
“What’s wrong?” Gadget asked. “Who’s in trouble?”
“You are,” Gordon smiled. “But I think we’ve got that particular rescue in the bag.”
* * *
The Bullet soared at that altitude where the blue of the sky began to verge into the black of space. In the aircraft’s ample cargo bay, Gadget pulled against the straps that encircled her waist and fastened tightly to the floor. One of the straps ran through a chair behind her. Even though she could stand, she couldn’t budge from the spot.
The speaker of the intercom popped as the microphone opened. “Are you ready?” Gary asked.
Gadget gave one last futile tug. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
“Three,” Gary counted down. “Two. One. NOW!”
Gadget squeaked involuntarily as she felt the floor sink from under her. Her senses briefly screeched in alarm, as any creature’s would as they began to fall. But Gadget had a purpose to keep her mind occupied. She stood and braced herself against the straps. Gordon, identically braced behind his miniature CCD camera, pointed his finger at her as the red LED on the camera winked on. Gadget’s hands began the gentle, unfamiliar circular motion that sent the rubber SoftAir BB’s toward the overhead. With tiny movements of her hands, she guided the globes upward. They bounced gently off the ceiling and, with ridiculous slowness, drifted back to her hands. With a widening smile, Gadget added a sixth ball. Then a seventh, eighth, and then, as she positively beamed, the crucial ninth ball. She took an instant to clap her hands once in the middle of things, then boldly tossed a tenth ball in. The pattern worked just as the book on exotic juggling Gary had loaned her had said, and she became the first mouse to succeed at zero-G juggling.
The shrill clamor of the bail-out bell sent Gadget scrambling to collect the drifting spheres. A moment later she sat down just as Gary pulled out of the dive. Her normal weight returned, and more, as they leveled off miles below their starting point.
“Great, Gadget!” Gordon called. “I got the whole thing. You were perfect!”
“Can we do one more?” she asked eagerly. “This is fun!”
“Hey, Basil,” Gordon said into his headphone. “The lady would like another nose-over.”
“Okay, Dawson,” Gary’s voice boomed from the intercom. “Give me a few minutes to get back to altitude and we’ll go for take two.”
* * *
Chip stared open-mouthed at the big television screen at Ranger Headquarters, hardly believing his eyes. The video of Gadget’s zero-G juggling couldn’t have been faked. He pointed his finger at the screen as he counted the slowly orbiting juggle balls. The video ended with Gadget sitting down in the aircraft seat with a big, triumphant grin.
“Gadget,” Chip said cautiously. “Did you sneak onto the Space Station just for this?”
“I’m not going to reveal my resources,” she said smugly. “You didn’t specify the conditions I had to work under. Only that I had to keep nine in the air. There’s air where I did it. Just no appreciable gravity. ”
“I can’t believe you went to all that trouble to win a bet.”
“I can’t believe you thought I couldn’t win,” Gadget said. “Do you agree that I won?”
“Yes,” Chip sighed. “You won. Fair and square.”
Gadget smiled slightly, looked toward the floor and lightly licked her lips. “And when may I collect my winnings?”
Chip glanced toward the bedrooms. Dale was out with Foxglove for an Italian dinner, and Monty and Zipper were off on a pub crawl, celebrating an obscure (and possibly fictional) Australian holiday.
“No time like the present,” Chip said.
Suddenly feeling very formal about the occasion, he offered his arm, and Gadget wrapped both her arms around his. They walked down the hall, past the bedrooms to the stairway. They climbed, arm-in-arm, past the balcony, past Foxglove’s attic apartment, and on up to the lookout, the highest point of the Headquarters. Though the lookout platform itself was well concealed, it permitted an unobstructed view of the park, the surrounding city, and the few stars that could compete with the glare of the city lights. Chip walked over to the railing and took in the view. Gadget walked up behind him, her hands folded behind her back.
“It’s really a lovely night,” Chip said quietly.
“Yes, it is,” Gadget agreed. She let the silence stretch a few moments. “You’re stalling.”
“You’re right.” He turned to her and took off his fedora, setting it on the railing. He inclined his head toward her. “Miss Hackwrench...”
She smiled sweetly. “Mr. Corrigan...”
Chip took a deep breath, turned to the city at large and began to sing at the top of his lungs, to the tune of “It’s a Small World.”
I thought I was smart, so I made this bet
Now I’m up here singing that I was all wet,
I bet I was Top Gun,
But I look pretty dumb,
Gadget proved she’s Number One!
Gadget proved she’s Number One,
Showed she cannot be outdone,
Beat me like a conga drum,
Gadget proved she’s Number One!
A smattering of applause from the tiny hands of their neighbors informed them that the song had been widely heard once again. From her treetop home, Tammy gave a piercing wolf whistle and cheered “Yaaay, Chip!” destroying any hope that he could keep his loss hidden from the other Rangers. Just then, a pair of human police officers on foot patrol looked curiously up into the tree.
“What would make a squirrel sound off like that this late at night, Francis?”
“I know this sounds crazy, Gunther, but it sounded like someone lost a bet.”
The officers laughed loudly at their jest. High above, Chip’s cheeks reddened into violet, his mortification utter and complete.
“Gee, that was very nice of you. Thank you.” Gadget smiled.
“I’m never going to make this bet again,” Chip groaned. “Never.”
“You will if the stakes are high enough,” Gadget said smugly. “Maybe next time I will bet you a kiss.”
“How’s that again?” Chip asked, not sure he’d heard right.
“Just something someone suggested,” she said innocently. “Maybe.”
* * *