Author's Note: Some of the scenes in this portion of the story are of a mature nature, and some readers may find them offensive.  It's not my intent to upset anyone and I don't think anyone will be offended, but I thought you deserved a heads-up.  Rest assured, anything I did I did for dramatic purposes, and not to be pointlessly controversial.  On with the show...       "To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead."   --Bertrand Russell   "You will find as you look back upon your life that the moments when you have truly lived are the moments you have done things in the spirit of love."   --Henry Drummond       PART III       There was Louie's, on the horizon, reassuringly calling to him just like always.  Baloo banked the plane in preperation to land.  It felt good to know that Louie's was there, especially when everything else was going to hell in a handbasket.  He could always go to Louie's and relax, be himself.  With nobody around criticizing his every move... The grey bear landed the plane and sat back in his chair with a sigh.  He was surprised at how tired he was - every cargo run seemed to drag a little more life out of him.  "Not gettin' any younger!" he grumbled to himself, eyes closed.  Was that it - Was that why he felt so beat all the time?  Or was it something else? The pilot had been struck lately by just how hard it was to live up to someone else's expectations - it was something he hadn't worried about for almost twenty years.  The only person he ever had to worry about satisfying was himself, and he'd never heard any complaints.  The last year, almost two, since Kit had showed up - once that initial euphoria had passed, Baloo had become painfully aware of just how much work he'd let himself in for.  Every decision, every action had hidden consequences, and at the end of the day, Kit always looked at him, with those sad eyes, so full of affection - and expectation... What right did he have to expect Baloo to change?  He was the same bear he'd always been - wasn't that good enough?  Kit had been glad enough to have that bear take him in off the streets, shelter him, feed him, clothe him!  He'd saved that boy's skin more times than he could count already - and now he was supposed to feel guilty about having his own life, his own wants?  What right did the boy have?  What right did he have to - _need_ Baloo that much? The grey bear hopped down onto the floating pier with a weary nod at Louie's attendants, who descended on the Sea Duck with squeegees, gas pumps and rags in hand.  Baloo opened the bamboo doors and took in the familiar sight of Louie's Place.  It was crowded.  Baloo checked his watch - one fifty-five.  Pretty big lunch crowd for this late in the day... "Hey, Little Boy Baloo!" Louie called.  "What's shakin', my main man?" "Not much, Louie." Baloo nodded, heading for an empty table.  ~Don't feel like sittin' at the bar today...~ "Whassup Fuzzy?" Louie frowned, lithely hopping over to the table.  "You seem downer than a feather pillow!" "Naw, I'm OK Pal, just a little beat." Baloo grinned tiredly.  "Gimmee two cheeseburgers and a mess o' french fries, wouldya Louie?" "Sure Cuz!" Louie chuckled.  "Nothin' wrong witchoo a little grease can't put right!" The bear had almost reached the bar when Baloo called out to him.  "Hey Louie, about them cheeseburgers..." he said hesitatingly. "Yeah Cuz?" The big bear stared thoughtfully at him for a moment, than sighed.  "Make sure they got plenty o' onions on 'em, OK?" "Sure Fuzzy, no problem!" the orangutan frowned, puzzled. "Man can't enjoy a little lunch without feelin' guilty?" Baloo grumbled under his breath.  "Guilt stinks, it's fer losers..."  What was the world coming to - he couldn't come to Louie's and enjoy his favorite meal anymore?  Even when he was alone, he wasn't alone. "'Scuse me?" a voice called from behind him, causing the grey bear to jump. Baloo spun.  A tall white hawk in a black leather bomber jacket stood, grinning down at him.  "Jeez - scared the ailerons outta me, Ace!  Didn't hear ya back there..." "Sorry!" the hawk chuckled.  "Don't want to bother you, but I couldn't help overhear you and Louie talking...  You wouldn't by any chance be Baloo, would you?" "The very same." the grey bear nodded.  "I don't think I know you, do I?" "Peter, Peter Bright!" the hawk grinned, extending a hand.  "I've heard a lot about you - always wanted to meet you!  Mind if I sit down?" Baloo reached for the hand and frowned.   "Normally, I would, Pal, but I kinda wanted ta-"  He started and pulled his hand back slightly, a jolt running through him at the touch. "Man oh man, you're Baloo!  I always heard you were the best pilot around - that true?" the hawk asked, sitting. The pilot jerked his attention back to the hawk's face.  "Heh heh!  You heard right, Pete!  Best pilot in these skies - or any others!" "Wow!" the hawk whistled appreciatively.  "That's your plane out there - the L-16, right?  Are those Superflight-100 engines you've got on her?" "Good eye Pete!" Baloo chuckled.  "That's the Sea Duck - my baby!  A pilot this great needs a great plane, am I right?" "Ha ha!  You got that right!" the raptor laughed.  "You got a plane like that and the sky, that's about all you need, huh?" "Sure." Baloo nodded, casting his eyes down for an instant.  "Can't ask fer no more than that..." "Hey - did I say something wrong?" the hawk frowned.  "Sorry if I offended you-" "Naw - that's OK." Baloo frowned.  "Say - I haven't seen you around Louie's, have I?" "Nope!" the hawk grinned.  "I'm new around these parts.  But I know all about the incomparable Baloo, though...  And here we are, face to face!" "That we are..." the grey bear mused.  He was beginning to get a strange feeling about this man, there was something odd about him.  Baloo wasn't scared, exactly, or nervous, just... unsettled.  "How do ya know so much about me, Pete?  I knew I had a little reputation, but..." The white hawk stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable.  Then he smiled a small smile.  "I know things.  I'm a good judge of people, let's say.  If you don't mind me saying so, you don't seem particularly happy at the moment, Baloo." "Whaddaya mean?" Baloo scowled, thinking about leaving the table but not quite ready to do it.  He was curious, a little...  "There's nothin' wrong with me, Friend!" "Of course." the hawk chuckled.  He leaned back, hands behind his head.  "It's not easy, being a father.  Is it?" "What?" Baloo gasped.  "You seen me in here with Kit - that it?" "Not easy... Especially when you've been on your own for so long.  It's not easy having to think about somebody else's needs-" "Who are you?" Baloo hissed. The hawk laughed.  "Food, shelter, protection... Those are pretty easy, huh?  I bet they come pretty naturally to you Baloo.  But there are other kinds of needs that aren't so easy." "Who _are_ you?" Baloo hissed, more urgently. The hawk sighed.  "Does it matter, Baloo?  I know how hard all of this is for you.  Nobody ever seems to care about what you're feeling, do they?  Everybody depends on you, all the time...  But nobody wants to listen to your problems.  So - I want to listen!  That's who I am.  The guy who wants to listen to your problems." "This is weird..." Baloo whispered. "Life's weird.  Deal with it!" the hawk chuckled.  "You can deny it all you want, but I know you're not a happy flier right now, Baloo!  And I also know you don't think there's anybody you can talk about all this with.  So either you're going crazy or I'm a guy who has nothing better to do than listen to your problems.  So let's just say I'm that guy - we'll both be happier that way!" "Gotta lay off the passion fruit tacos before bed!" Baloo mumbled. "Can't argue with _that_!" the hawk laughed.  "So, now that we've got that settled - what's on your mind?  What's got you so down?" Baloo shook his head.  "Can't figger it out..."  The weirdest thing was - the guy was right!  He _did_ want to talk about his problems with somebody!  Should he?  Maybe he'd wake up in a minute...  "Can't figger it out..." "It's Kit, huh?  And maybe Rebecca too?" Baloo's jaw dropped.  "What the - that's impossible!  How could you know-" "Listen..." the hawk said warmly, grasping Baloo's left paw in his right, "If things are that bad, maybe you should think about moving on, you know?  Maybe Kit isn't worth all of the heartache you're going through-" "Wha - No!" Baloo protested.  "Look Fella, I dunno who the heck you are but I - I... love that boy!  And I ain't gonna hear nobody say different!" "Well, of _course_ you do!" the raptor smiled patiently.  "So if you love him then, what's the problem?  He doesn't love you?" "Sure he does!" Baloo scowled.  "Too much, maybe..." "How so?" "Well, it's just he... he always _needs_ me so much, yaknow?" Baloo sighed.  How had he gotten to talking about this - with a total stranger?  And why wasn't he stopping?  "It's like - the way I always been, the stuff I do - it ain't good enough anymore." "Expectations are tough things." the hawk nodded.  "Sometimes they don't seem very fair.  But at the end of the day, the person you have to answer to is yourself, Baloo." "Maybe Pete, maybe..." Baloo sighed wearily.  "Maybe I can't be the same guy I always was, not with a kid around ta look after.  And not just him, there's Becky an' Molly too..." "Becky can look after herself, surely?  And help you with Kit?" "Do you know _everything_?" Baloo scowled. "Why stop now?" the raptor grinned. Baloo chuckled and shook his head.  "Becky.  Ol' Becky...  She's a bright gal, Pete.  An' she does help me with the boy, she really does.  He loves 'er, and she loves him too, I think.  But she's always gettin' inta messes an' such - thinks she knows ever'thin'!  And naturally I hafta bail her out!" "Someone has to!" the hawk laughed. "I guess!  But then she's always ridin' me, puttin' me down, even in front o' Kit!  I know I ain't perfect but I been doin' all right fer twenty years before she showed up..." "What was it like - before she showed up?" Peter asked. "It was fine!  I was happy as a clam!" Baloo grinned. "No problems at all, huh?" Peter grinned.  "That must've been a great life - no worries, no obligations..." "Yeah..." Baloo frowned, staring at the hawk for a long moment.  "The business was called 'Baloo's Air Service' then - howz _that_ fer a great name?  I wasn't exactly Shere Khan but flyin' is flyin', an' I knew flyin'!  Every day I woke up knowin' that place was mine, an' I could do whatever I wanted.  Sometimes that was flyin' cargo, sometimes it wasn't.  Didn't hafta worry about cleanin' up no messes, neither... It were just me an' Wildcat, had been fer nearly ten years.  Before that it was just me.  Me an' my beautiful Sea Duck.  Only friend I had that never let me down.  We were a great team, the Duck an' me.  Still are!  I flew solo in those days, I liked it fine... I guess I wasn't a very good businessman - I didn't exactly keep up on all my bills, if ya catch my drift.  That was gonna catch up with me sooner or later, 'course I had no idea.  That stuff just didn't seem important, detail stuff.  Flyin' was what I cared about. It all kinda came to a head though - all that stuff I let slack, let drift by.  February it was, I remember that...       "Baloo!  Hey Baloo!" Wildcat called, stepping into the old wooden building that housed Baloo's Air Service.  It was a mess, to say the least - half-eaten sandwiches, pizza boxes, dirty socks and a stunning variety of other detritus adorned the floors and every scrap of furniture. Baloo woke with a start, and looked around blearily.  "Wha - what is it?  Wildcat?" "Hey Baloo!" the mechanic grinned at him.  "I need ta put new plugs on the port engine, Man.  You gonna be needin' the Duck today?  It's a pretty big job." "Plugs..." Baloo yawned.  "Yeah sure, won't be needin' 'er fer a while I guess.  What time is it anyways?" "Like, almost eleven.  Ya got any deliveries today?" "Eleven?" Baloo gasped, lumbering to his feet.  "Holy cow - Louie's havin' a big wing-ding this afternoon, I can't miss that!"  Baloo found that he pretty much marked the passage of time by Louie's parties. "Oh.  So - you'll be needin' the Sea Duck then?" "Yup - sorry Wildcat!" the pilot yawned, grabbing a hamburger off of the gramophone and biting into it. "OK - guess I'll work on that clogged sewer pipe." the mechanic replied.  "Seems like it could be a pretty big job..."   The sea and the sky were a brilliant blue as the grey bear guided the Sea Duck through the clear Pacific Afternoon.  Baloo knew the route between Cape Suzette and Louie's Place like the back of his hand.  In his younger days, he found himself there nearly every day some weeks, but he'd been going less and less as he'd gotten older, sometimes not stopping by for weeks at a time.  For some reason, he just didn't seem to have as much fun there as used to... He still loved Louie's - it was as close as the big bear had to a home, and the red ape the closest thing to a family.  It hadn't changed in ten years, but then neither had Baloo.  He had everything he wanted - his plane, his freedom - but it was sometimes very hard to convince himself to get out of bed in the morning, to face the same world yet again.  Even Louie's felt like a grind sometimes. "Yer gettin' old!" he muttered to himself as he often did when these thoughts invaded his brain.  Why wasn't he satisfied?  He'd been happy for almost twenty years with this life - why should now be any different?  And why didn't he look forward to Louie's parties with the same anticipation that he used to?  He knew the obvious reasons - he always felt tired after one of Louie's bashes, each time a little more tired than the last.  And he always ended them the same way - back to Cape Suzette, alone.  Only that never bothered him before... There was his flying, of course.  Baloo still loved that.  But even flying didn't bring him the same joys it had when he was a younger bear.  He was the best pilot there was, he knew it in his heart - but what _good_ was it?  No one ever saw him, no one knew how great he was.  He delivered a few cargoes when he felt like it - but who cared?  And when he was gone, retired or whatever - there'd be no one to pass his magic on to.  No one to carry on his name, no one to fly Baloo Corkscrews.  The thought made him sad, and Baloo didn't feel sad very often, hadn't for a very long time.  He'd overdosed on sad long ago, and banished it from his life. The familiar palm-dotted isle appeared on the horizon, filling Baloo as it always did with a sense of comfort and well-being.  Louie's was always there, always festive.  So what if he didn't have anyone at home, there was always the gang at Louie's.  They were his family.  And the ape threw a helluva party, there was no doubt about that.   It was a good bash, even by Louie's standards - several of the patrons had already 'celebrated' themselves under the table by the time Baloo had been there for an hour.  Baloo himself had been known to enjoy an occasional rum sizzler, but on days when he planned to fly home he restricted himself to mango fizzes and every high calorie delight the red ape had in his bag of tricks. "Man, I'm gettin' too old fer this, Cuz!" Louie chuckled ruefully to Baloo, as his best friend leaned serenely against the bar, munching a cheeseburger.  "These parties get wilder every year, and I get more dead _beat_!  Maybe it's time ta put a rockin' chair behind this ol' bar!" "Not likely!" Baloo laughed as the orangutan utilized three limbs to prepare three drinks at once.  "I know ya Louie - you'd go nuts if ya didn't have people around this place drivin' ya nuts!" Louie scowled.  "Boy, Baloo - sometimes runnin' this place is like workin' in a zoo!" "Louie ol' pal - you just gotta lean my secret to re-lax-ation!" Baloo grinned. "Yeah?  And what's _that_ - Cuz?" Louie asked skeptically. Baloo raised a hand and snapped his fingers at the band, which eased into a rollicking Caribbean rhythm.  Baloo closed his eyes, feeling the music carry him away, as it always did.  "Oh, yeah Man!" he purred, slowly walking round the bar, snapping his fingers, as the attention of the revelers began to shift in his direction.  Where it belonged, the way he figured it. The big grey bear gave a bar stool a tremendous spin and planted himself atop it, breaking into song.  "When life down here's a thundercloud   I take off for the air!  I soar above the madding crowd,  Without a single care!" The barstool carried the pilot almost to the ceiling, where he grabbed a bowl of fruit and placed is squarely on his head.  He looked around - the joint was his now, every eye was on him.  He rode the stool back to the ground and whipped a tablecloth from under the drink of a startled pilot, wrapping it around his waist like a grass skirt.  He snapped his fingers and resumed his slow circuit of the hall.  "Oh, I'm not one ta stick around.   When troubles start ta brew!" "So see you later, Navigator!" Louie called merrily, fully caught up in the moment now.  "I know just what to do!"  "I'm gone!" "He's gonna fly!" the simian waiters sang in chorus.  "I'm gone!" "Adios bye-bye!"  "Don't trouble me with troubles, Man,   I'm gone!" Baloo was dancing from table to table now, secure in the knowledge that the room was his, as the waiters and Louie continued to serenade him in chorus. "Oh - oh, he's gone!  He's gone - wait a minute!  He's gone - just a minute!"  "I love to be above it all, I'm gone!" "Ooh-ooh, he's gone!" Baloo wound his way to the stage, where Louie joined him as both danced merrily to the swinging sounds of the band.  "I'm gone!   Lay it on me, jack!   I'm gone!   Take the wing, Bing!   I'm gone!   Pull the chock, jock!" The band rolled into the grand finale of piano, steel drums and bass as Baloo and Louie gyrated wildly.  Baloo looked around him at the laughing faces and felt like a kid again, just like he always did at Louie's parties.  All of his worries seemed far behind him now.' As the band finished playing to a rousing cheer, the door swung open with a clatter, and Baloo's eyes made out a flash of green zipping it's way across the floor in a wild zig-zag pattern.  ~That's interesting!~ he thought as the blur drew closer.  He felt a resounding crash on his ample belly and fell back with a loud "Oof!", all the wind knocked out of him. He shook his head dizzily and felt a weight pressing down on his gut.  To his surprise, a small brown bearcub in a worn green sweater knelt on his belly, staring up the pilot with an expression of surprise that matched Baloo's own.  Their eyes locked, and the pilot felt a strange flicker of communication pass between them, just for an instant.  "Well, well!  What have we _here_?" he chuckled. A pilot burst through the door and into the club, a heavyset dog with a flop-eared hat.  Baloo recognized him as one of the dozens of free-lancers that passed through Louie's on occasion.  The dog made a beeline straight for the stage, an angry scowl on his face.  "C'mere, you half-pint hitchhiker!" he growled, advancing on the cub menacingly. Something about the boy's manner intrigued Baloo, and he was always one to root for the underdog anyways.  "Cut the kid some slack - Jack!" he rumbled, stopping the dog in his tracks with a massive paw. "Yeah - listen to the fat lady!" the cub snarled, surprising Baloo with the defiance in his high-pitched voice.  Not to mention the verbiage. "Lady?!?" the grey bear howled indignantly. "Whatever!" the cub scowled. "Uh - didn't know he was a pal o' _yours_, Baloo!" the dog stammered.  "No hard feelings, okay?  Nice kid!" he grinned obsequiously, patting the boy on the head.  He backed away and made himself scarce. Baloo grinned down at the little fellow and slipped off his 'skirt' and fruit hat.  "Heh heh!  That was quite an entrance... L'il Britches!"  He surprised himself by using that affectation - he hadn't heard it in years... "Hey!" the boy gasped in wonder as he saw Baloo's flight shirt and cap.  "You're a pilot!" "Last time I checked!" the grey bear grinned.  Strange kid... "Are ya _good_?" the boy spat defiantly. Baloo laughed uproariously.  ~Kid's got a lotta spirit!~ he thought.  "Heh heh!  The _best_ Kid - numero uno!" The lad looked up at Baloo, a new respect in his eyes.  "Umm - _I'm_ gonna be a pilot someday!" Baloo chuckled and tousled the cub's hair.  He had spunk - the pilot couldn't help but like him immediately.  "Heh heh!  Bet ya will be too!" he grinned.  He noticed the boy was carrying a small wooden chest under his arm.  "Hey - nice luggage!" he smiled. "Hands off!  It's mine!" the cub snarled, pulling the box away protectively. "Easy Kid - I was just admirin'!" Baloo grinned easily.  "Well - see ya in the funny papers!" he nodded, strolling towards the door.  "Always leave 'em wantin' more!" he chuckled to himself.  No way he was ever gonna top that performance, no way... ~Maybe I missed my callin' - shoulda been a singer!~ Baloo mused as he sauntered out towards his plane.  ~Weird business, about that kid...  Wonder where he came from?  Kid hadda lotta spunk, gotta give 'im that - wasn't afraid o' me fer a second!  And why'd I call 'im 'L'il Britches'?  After all this time... "Doo-bee-doo-bee-doo!  Ah - miss me Baby?" he chuckled, giving the Sea Duck a loving pat on the fuselage.  He settled into the pilot's seat and started the engines.  The old seaplane inched it's way along the water, gradually picking up speed in a spray of propwash as it headed towards open seas. The smooth hum of the Superflight-100 engines was as sweet as any music to the grey bear.  He leaned back and closed his eyes as the plane took to the air.  He put his feet on the wheel with a contended sigh.  "Oh Baby... That's my girl!" He jerked his eyes open as his peaceful trance was broken by a light tapping on the starboard window.  Much to Baloo's surprise, the cub from Louie's stared back at him, eyes wide.  The pilot's jaw dropped, and then he cracked an astonished smile.  "Hiya Kid!  Need a lift?" "Mmm hmmm!" the cub's muffled voice replied. "It's a lot comfier inside!" the big bear grinned.  He rolled down the window and grabbed the scruff of the boy's sweater, easily lifting him inside and onto the navigator's seat.  "Welcome aboard, L'il Britches!" The boy's eyes darted around quickly, taking in everything the cockpit had to offer.  Baloo glanced over at him, struck once again by the boy's pluck.  ~Takes guts, hitchin' onto a movin' plane like that...~ "O Man - what a great _plane_!" the boy gushed.  "A Conwing L-16, right?" Baloo was immediately impressed - most people couldn't tell a Conwing from a chicken wing.  The kid was all right... "Good _eye_ Kid!  I call her the Sea Duck!  My best friend!  Customized 'er myself!" the big grey bear said proudly.  He pounded on a panel., and it popped open, revealing two bottles of soda, one of which he handed to the cub. The boy was too busy drinking in the scene to immediately drink in the soda, obviously thrilled to be there.  "Yeah, like those engines - Superflight-100s, right?" "Heyyy, yer all right kid!  Whadda they call you?" "Kit Cloudkicker!" the boy said proudly.  ~Funny name!~ Baloo mused...  Bear and cub clicked bottles in an impromptu toast.  "I'm gonna have my own plane some day..." "Heh heh!  Hope yer _folks_ are rich!" "I don't have any folks..." Kit said softly.  "But I'm gonna be rich!  And real soon too..." Baloo glanced over.  ~No folks?  Too bad, seems like a good kid...~  Baloo felt a pang of sympathy for the gutsy little fellow.  "Well, if yer gonna _own_ a plane, ya better be able ta _fly_ it!" he chuckled.  "Go ahead - take the controls!" "Me?!?  Really?" The look on Kit's face delighted Baloo to his core.  "Knock yerself out, Kid!" "Wow!" Kit whispered, grabbing the co-pilot's yoke and banking the plane, a little too sharply. "Heh heh!  Re-lax, L'il Britches!  Just hold 'er steady!"  Baloo chuckled.  He leaned back and watched the cub out of the corner of his eye.  Kit face was rapt, his gentle features fixed in concentration, and he was clearly thrilled by the moment.  Baloo felt his chest flush with an unfamiliar feeling.  What was it?  He wasn't sure..."Thaaat's it!  Yer a dandy!" he grinned. Kit's face lit up at the praise.  "Thanks!  But I can't get my licence for another five years!" he said bitterly. "Well, when ya _do_ you'll be a regular ace!" Baloo grinned, amazed and delighted by the smile his words brought to the boy's face. Suddenly, there was a ping of metal on metal, and Kit looked around wildly.  "What was that?" Baloo grabbed the controls.  "Well, back on the corner where I hang out, we call that _pirates_!" he hissed grimly.  He banked the plane straight up, and made out five pirate CT-37s falling in behind him.  "What're they after _me_ for?  I don't have anything they want!" he grumbled. "Not necessarily..." Kit whispered next to him.  ~Weird - what'd the kid mean by _that?~ Baloo wondered. The pilot looped around and flew straight into the cluster of pirates, scattering them like bowling pins.  He disappeared into a thick cloud, and flew a corkscrew upwards around a tall cumulonimbus.  He came out of the spin and straightened out, only to narrowly miss the pursuing CT-37s.  "Baloooo!" Kit screamed, as another volley of bullets ripped through the cockpit. "Man, they're tougher ta shake than ticks on a dog!" Baloo muttered, sweat drenching his face.  "Hang on, L'il Britches!"  He sent the Sea Duck into a dive, straight towards the water.  One of  the pirates fell in behind him. "Baloo - we aren't gonna make it!" Kit squeaked as the water drew closer.  "Pull up!  Pull up!" "Just hold on!  Ol' Baloo's not outta tricks yet!" the big bear said confidently.  No pirates were gonna make a fool out of him on _his_ ocean!  At the last moment, he engaged the flaps and pulled out of the dive, kissing the water gently before gaining altitude.  The pursuing pirate was not so lucky - he crashed into the water at full speed. Kit was flabbergasted.  "You - you...  NO-body can fly like that!" "Great pilot - great plane!" Baloo chuckled.  He was clearly a mythic figure in Kit's eyes now, and he knew it. "I'll say!" the boy gushed.  "So what's next - a double reverse Immelmann?  A pretzel twist?" "Nope - a quick exit!" "But - you can fly rings around those guys!" "Don't have to!  There's Cape Suzette dead ahead." Baloo grinned, pointing to the cliffs off in the distance. "But Baloo - we'll never make it in time!" Kit hissed. Baloo laughed - obviously the kid didn't know Cape Suzette!  "Those puffs o' smoke say we will!" The air around them was filled with anti-aircraft fire, and the pirate planes scattered and fled, two of them crashing into the sea, knocked out of the sky like swatted flies.  "Ha ha!  Those bozos never seem ta get past the cliff guns!  Drives 'em crazy!" Baloo chuckled. They were home free now - Baloo eased the Sea Duck through the narrow passage and emerged over Cape Suzette Harbor.  "Well, there it is Kiddo - Cape Suzette!  Whaddaya think?" "Wow!" the boy gasped, taking in the wondrous scene of the multi-colored, mountain-hugging city beneath them.  Baloo flew the scenic route - through downtown and among the skyscrapers, over the park and then low across the water towards home. ~It's all new and wonderful ta him, ain't it?~ Baloo thought.  ~Was I ever that young?  Wonder what the kid's been doin' his whole life, never seen Cape Suzette...~  "Here we are - home sweet home!" he grinned, bringing the yellow seaplane in for a feather soft landing back at Baloo's Air Service. Baloo noticed a bit of a morose look on the boy's face as he helped him down to the dock.  ~Weird kid!~ he thought for about the hundredth time.  ~I like him tho' - he's got... _somethin'_...  What're ya doin'?!?  You don't know this kid - he could be lyin' about no parents - maybe he ran away!  And anyways, kids are trouble, you know that - especially this one.  What the heck was that business at Louie's all about?  Sure seems like a good boy, though.  Loves airplanes...~ They walked inside and Baloo sat down in his easy chair with a contended sigh.  "Ahhh - it's good to be back!"  He grabbed a slice of pizza from the box next to him and sniffed it tentatively.  "You hungry?" "Not anymore!" Kit replied, screwing his nose up as he set down an moldy soda cup. Baloo frowned - the boy seemed to be sizing the place up a little too critically for his tastes...  He picked up a newspaper and browsed through the sports page.  "Hey - the Sox won the Series!" Kit giggled.  "That paper is three months old!  Just like these unpaid bills..." "That's all detail stuff Kid!  Me, I'm a big picture kinda guy!" "No way to run an airline!" Kit scolded, shaking his head. ~What's with this kid - thinks he's my mother?~  "I only work when I have to, an' no more!.  _Flyin'_ is what life's all about!" Baloo grinned.  Inspiration struck, and his arms moved seemingly on their own accord.  He grabbed the old red and blue baseball cap that had been sitting in his filing cabinet for - well, for a long time - and tossed it at Kit, where it neatly landed on his head.  "In fact, I been thinkin' of addin' a navigator!  Ya interested?" "Me?" Kit scoffed, flipping the bill around to the back.  "No way!  I gotta get back to Louie's Place!" ~Oh well - screwy idea anyways...~  "Uh - didn't we just _leave_ there?" "Yeah!  And I wanna go _back_, okay?" Kit scowled. Baloo couldn't help but laugh at the defiant glare on Kit's face.  "This tough guy routine work on _all_ yer friends?" Kit turned and slumped his shoulders.  "I - I don't have any friends..." he whispered, all the toughness gone from his voice, leaving what sounded like a lonely little boy in it's place. Baloo sensed a lot of pain in that voice, and he thought of another young bear about Kit's age who felt a lot of pain once.  He was struck by an overwhelming urge to comfort the cub.  He knelt and put an arm around the boy's shoulder.  "Look, Kid - I'm not due back at Louie's fer a few weeks!" he said gently. "But - but I gotta go _now_!" the cub replied desperately.  There was a knock on the door, and Baloo sauntered over, Kit at his heels. A diminutive bear in a blue coat and black top hat stood outside.  "Mr. Baloo?" he asked in a nasally whine. "The one and only!" "I'm from the Cape Suzette National Bank.  It's about your plane...  _You_, Sir, are delinquent on your last six payments!  And unless funds totalling three thousand dollars are deposited in our fiduciary institution by nine A.M. tomorrow, we will be forced to foreclose on your aircraft loan!" Baloo frowned.  He wasn't sure what the little fellow was saying, but he didn't think he liked it.  "Zis guy speakin' English?" he whispered to Kit. The boy whispered back.  "Translated, he said 'No dough, plane go!'" Baloo was flabbergasted.  "Y-you're gonna take my _plane_?!?  B-but - you can't!  That's my baby!" he stammered, lifting the diminutive bear off the ground. "We have sent you numerous notices..." Kit's voice flashed in the pilot's brain.  'Just like these unpaid bills!'  "But - I thought those were sweepstakes giveaways!" he spluttered, setting the little bruin down and straightening his hat. "You have until nine A. M. tomorrow.  Good day!" the man said stiffly, and departed. Baloo banged his fist on the wooden building in despair.  "But three thousand smackers!  What am I gonna do?  What am I gonna do?!?" "Well - couldn't you take a job or something?" a voice peeped from behind him. Kit!  he'd almost forgotten the boy was there...  "A job?  Kit - yer a genius with a capital 'J'!  I'll go down to the ol' job board!  There's bound ta be somethin' there that'll pay three grand!"  He took off at a jog, Kit trailing along close behind him.  His plane - how could this be happening?  His plane was everything, his whole life!  How could he have been so careless? The job board was less than a quarter mile up the harbor, and Baloo's feet were propelled by desperation.  Within a few moments they'd arrived.  "Can you really make three thousand bucks this fast, Baloo?" Kit asked. "Sure - if the job's nasty enough." Baloo said grimly.  Again, he'd almost forgotten the boy was there.  Now that he remembered him though, Kit filled his thoughts even as he worried about his plane...  The boy was strange, there was no doubt about that.  Knew more about airplanes that a kid that age had any right to - especially about planes as old as Baloo's Conwing L-16.  He had that tough guy routine working, too - seemed bound and determined to keep the big bear at a safe distance.  Still, Baloo knew a little about that routine himself... Strange enough to be worried abut that kid anyways, Baloo thought.  He had his plane to worry about.  And the kid was trouble.  Every instinct told him.  The big grey bear scanned the job board, looking desperately for something distasteful enough to suit his needs - three thousand bucks in one day.  Finally, his eyes alighted on what he was looking for.  "Ah-ha here we go!" he grinned.  "A zoo delivery - Perfect!  The Sea Duck's as good as mine!" The boy's face darkened, and he cast his eyes down.  "Yeah - you and the Sea Duck!" he said softly.  "Well, catch ya around sometime... I guess."  As quickly as that, he turned and started walking away. "Hey - whoa there!" the pilot said, before he had a chance to think about it.  The boy stopped and turned, staring at him expectantly.  Baloo stood silently for a moment, unsure of what to say.  What was he thinking?  Strange - he felt suddenly nervous, as if he were caught in the midst of something larger than he was, larger than he could control.  The cub continued to stare at him expectantly... In that instant, a million thoughts flashed through Baloo's mind.  The cub's face tore a hole in him - his eyes were dark, there was a gleam there but sadness, too.  His features were gentle, innocent - but even in the short time Baloo had known him he's seen darkness shadow that sweet face more than once.  What kind of secrets was the boy hiding? But what business was it of his?  The kid had said he didn't want to be his navigator... and what did he need a kid around for anyways?  Another mouth to feed, he might have to work more - the kid probably couldn't look after himself that way.  But then, if he had no folks maybe he already was?  But what if he did have folks, and they came looking?  It was heartbreak waiting to happen - there'd been too much of that already - hadn't he learned?  Still - the kid sure loved airplanes... "Uh... Baloo muttered.  His plane - that was his concern right now.  Not some kid he didn't know from Adam!  "You - you look after yerself, OK?  Be... be careful..." Kit's eyes fell.  "Yeah.  You too." he mumbled, and walked off along the water.  Baloo watched his form grow smaller and smaller, the cub's shoulders hunched low and his step laboring.  Why did he want to stop him - to call out?  Should he?  Maybe the kid had nobody else, maybe he was in trouble, no money... Money!  He glanced at his watch.  The Sea Duck!  He had to hurry...  With a sigh, he started back towards Baloo's Air Service and his waiting plane, his mind troubled and his heart heavy.  "He's not yer responsibility!" Baloo muttered angrily.  His voice rose in his throat and he turned, half ready to shout out, but the boy was already gone.       "What?" Gregory Cunningham shouted in disbelief.  "Cape Suzette?  Air cargo?  Becky, have you been drinking?" "Daddy!" Rebecca shouted in reply.  "Be calm!  I think it's a very good business opportunity-" "Opportunity!  Opportunity for disaster..." "Rebecca, this is awfully sudden.  Why now?" Kayla asked gently. Rebecca  fell back on the sofa with a sigh.  "It just feels like the right time, Mom.  A new start, a new life.  Something that I can grow - that can grow with me, and Molly.  I just love Cape Suzette, it'd be like going home, in a way..." "Rebecca." her father said, with exaggerated patience.  "Surely you realize that your future is here.  This company is well-established, successful.  It can provide for you, provide for Molly.  For the rest of your lives.  Why risk all that for some pipe dream, some nebulous kind of 'new start'..." "Because I want to, Dad!  You built this company, you made your dream happen!  Don't I deserve the right to do the same?" "I built this company because I had nothing!  I built it to survive, to provide for Kayla, for you.  I nursed it through a war, a depression.  It's _here_, now.  For you to risk Molly's future-" "Greg!" Kayla warned. "She's _my_ daughter!" Rebecca hissed. "Yes, yes she is." her father nodded.  "But she needn't ever have to worry about her education, her future.  You had all of those things - what right do you have to risk her access to them?  Don't you owe her the same privileges that you had?" "Don't I owe her a life she can believe in, Daddy?  Don't I owe her a mother who feels proud of what she's doing with her life?" Rebecca said dubiously. "Rebecca Darling... I think it's time I formalized your position with the company.  David's - he's been gone a few years, Molly will be going to school... How about a vice-presidency, a seat on the board of directors?  You're ready for that, you've proved it here today-" "Oh Daddy, can't you see that isn't what this is about?" she sighed.  He merely cast a puzzled frown in her direction.  She looked for support, as she so often had, to her mother, but was met with only a weak smile.  She didn't understand, neither of them did.  It was her life, didn't they see? Her life - and Molly's too.  There was no net, not where she was thinking of jumping.  Did she have the right?     Kit slowly ran his spoon through the empty bowl, the other patrons on the counter casting an occasional look of irritation in his direction as the metal scraped the glass.  Outside, dusk was creeping in, the sky to the west showing the last vestiges of orange that remained from a brilliant sunset. Kit knew he shouldn't have spent any money on ice cream given the fact that he had less than two dollars in his pocket, but it'd been a long time since he'd had access to the comforts of civilization, and the food on the Iron Vulture was unpalatable to say the least.  Besides, he was feeling depressed, and ice cream always used to cheer him up when he was depressed... "Can I get you anythin' else, Hon?" the waitress, a blue-haired goose with an ever-present wad of chewing gum in her mouth, asked him kindly. "No thanks." Kit sighed.  "I'm all set."  He took out two quarters and laid them down on the counter, turning to leave. "You OK, Sweetie?" the waitress frowned. "I'm fine, thanks!" Kit smiled weakly, not in the mood to take comfort in friendliness from strange adults.  The boy walked out of the diner and into the night, taking in the sights and sounds of the city around him.  It had all seemed so bright and beautiful during the day - and from the air - but now it was dark, lonely and impossibly big.  A year spent in the confines of the Iron Vulture and Pirate Island left the cub ill-adjusted to the hustle and bustle of a major city. "Snap out of it - you got work to do!" he chided himself, walking towards the harbor again.  He had a treasure waiting for him, if only he could _get_ to it - so why were his thoughts filled with the fat grey bear who'd given him a lift back from Louie's?  It didn't make sense.  Kit had lived on the streets before, and much younger at the time too.  There was no place for sentiment out there, on your own.  There were no friends.  If he hadn't known that before he at least knew it now... He faced a quandary - it was dark, and most of the pilots were grounded for the rest of the day.  Kit had stowed away countless times before, both on 'friendly flights' - the hobo tolerant variety - and non-friendlies too.  That would do him no good here, though - he couldn't simply pick a plane and go where it took him, as he had in his hobo days.  He had a very specific destination in mind - Louie's.  He'd simply have to find a pilot who was headed there and glean a way to hitch a ride. He stopped and took his bearings. The harbor was dead ahead, and with it the dock works and shipyards that clustered there.  The airfield was probably on the other side of downtown, by Kit's reckoning, but he couldn't be sure. Louie's - now that was a place that seemed to cater to a fairly rough crowd - not as rough as the pirate dives where he'd first encountered Don Karnage and his scum, but not exactly refined either, if Baloo and the folk he'd been partying with were any indication.  They looked like free-lancers, the kind he'd hitched numerous rides with before.  Loners.  They'd be more likely to be at the docks, working out of the small-time shippers there, than at the higher-class couriers and airlines that might be at the airfield.  Besides, he was already here, and the airfield could be anywhere. He took a deep breath - the night was cool, but not cold, and Kit knew cold.  He set off in the general direction that he'd come from originally, his keen navigator's senses remembering the exact route he'd taken from Baloo's Air Service to downtown.  There would probably be no pilots going out tonight, so his initial concern was finding a place to sleep for the night. With a start, he realized that Baloo's was only a few hundred yards up the shore.  He could see it, in fact, by the light of the rising moon.  It would be so easy, just to go over there and ask Baloo if he could sleep there...  The grey bear might even feed him dinner.  It would be so easy... "No!" he growled.  No complications - the bear had let him walk away, and turned his attention to his own problems.  Kit didn't need any complications - he had to be strong and tough.  There was a treasure out there, if only he could get to it...  He went to brush the hair out of his eyes, and realized with a start that he was still wearing the baseball cap that Baloo had given him.  He took it off and stared at it for a moment, considering tossing it away.  Finally, he set it back on his head with a sigh and set off to find a warm place to sleep.     "Hello Mr. Speendecker, this is Rebecca Cunningham." the brown bearess said, drumming her fingers on her desk nervously.  "How are you this morning?" "Fine, thank you Miss Cunningham." the banker's voice cooed in reply. "Mr. Speendecker, I've decided to go ahead and purchase the deed to that foreclosed air cargo company-" "I'm terribly sorry..." the banker interrupted.  "It seems that the current owner was able to bring his loan up to date before the foreclosure deadline.  Quite surprising, frankly, given his track record-" "Really?"  Rebecca's heart fell.  It had sounded so... _right_.  "So it's off the market, then?" "I'm afraid so, Miss Cunningham.  To be quite honest I truly believe you're better off - as I told you the other day air cargo is a fad, why in a few years-" "Yes, I remember." Rebecca sighed.  ~Fad, my fanny!  This idiot wouldn't know a good opportunity if it bit him on the hand...~  "Well, it appears to be moot in any case, doesn't it Mr. Speendecker?  What else do you have available?  Anything new?" "There is a small clothing company, specializing in wools and tartans.  Good infrastructure, but apparently a victim of bad management.  That would be a most suitable venture for a young woman, don't you think?" Rebecca scowled.  Sweaters?  It just didn't sound like her...  "No, I don't think that's it.  Anything else?" "Well - only the ones that I told you the other day, Miss Cunningham.  A restaurant-" "I remember." she interrupted glumly.  ~Damn!  That air cargo business was perfect!~  "I want this to be right, Mr. Speendecker.  Is there any chance that cargo firm will be on the market again?" "It's possible...  Given the past track record of the owner, he may very well become delinquent on his loan again.  Of course, there's no telling when that could happen." "I understand."  Surely, it was better to wait for the _right_ opportunity, rather than leap into the wrong one, just for the sake of leaving Winger City?  Nothing would change, she could always leave later.  She had her whole life ahead of her... "Miss Cunningham?" "Yes...  I'm going to hold off for now, Mr. Speendecker.  Please keep tabs on that firm, or anything similar that comes available.  I'll check back with you periodically." "Very well, Miss Cunningham." the banker said stiffly.  "A pleasure speaking with you." "You too.  Good-bye." she sighed, cradling the receiver.  It was a minor setback, temporary...  Still, it bothered her, more than it should.  It was an opportunity missed, she felt it...     With a start, Kit awakened, and opened his eyes with a jerk.  He looked up to see a tall figure's yellow eyes, fiercely gazing at him in the dark, and yelped softly. "Wha...wha-" a bobcat mumbled as the boy's cry awakened him.  "Who-" "So, my little sewer rat.  I don't imagine you expected to see me again." the tall figure, now revealed to be a crocodile in a black suit, cooed at the boy. "Who are you?" the bobcat demanded, in a surprisingly robust voice. Disdainfully, the croc put a boot on the old man's chest and shoved him over.  "Shut up.  My business is with this vermin.  He has stolen something from me." "I-I-I've never seen you before!" the cub stammered in a high-pitched voice. "My pocketwatch, boy!  I know you stole it - I chased you for six blocks!  You're an elusive little weed, I'll grant you that.  Easy enough to track down, though." "Now just a minute -" the bobcat interrupted.  The croc turned and viciously slapped him backhanded across the face, and he fell back to the sand. "I won't warn you again, old man!  My business with the boy will be completed without any interference from you!"  He turned to the cub.  "When I came here, I was just going to take my watch back and leave you a little - souvenir - to remember me by.  But now you've gone and made me angry.  I think I'll do a little public service instead." He advanced on the boy with a grin, and the cub cowered back even further. "I-I'm not afraid of you!" the boy said with surprising defiance.  The bobcat had sat up, and shook his head, dazed, a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth. "You should be, boy, you should be..." he cooed, grasping the boy by the front of the sweater.  "You're nothing but a scourge, sucking off the lifeblood of the decent people of Port Wallaby.  You'll be a pest your whole life, sewer rat - so I'm going to do the city a favor and solve that problem now!"  He pulled a large switchblade knife out of his coat pocket and pulled the boy off the ground. With a startled cry, the croc dropped the boy, who rolled to his feet, eyes blazing with fear.  The old bobcat had sunk his teeth into the croc's arm with a vicious bite.  The croc shook his arm wildly, finally dislodging the old bobcat, and turned to look for the boy. "Run, boy!  Get out!" the old bobcat yelled, and the boy stumbled, started to run away, as the croc took a step in his direction, raising the knife.  "Aiyee!" the croc screamed, causing the boy to look back.  The bobcat had attached himself to the croc's leg and was ferociously biting his ankle. The cub ran, blindly, his thoughts a whirl.  He took a final glance back, saw the silhouette raise the knife and strike down, fiercely, once, then twice.  The boy turned and ran, and did not look back again.  Tears rolled down his cheeks.   Kit woke with a start, his eyes darting around him wildly.  He panted raggedly, straining for breath.  "No!" he sobbed quietly, springing to his feet.  As his eyes adjusted he made out the details of his surroundings - paint cans, storage boxes, airplane parts - and realized that he was not under the Port Wallaby pier, as he had been in his dream.  His breath slowed, and he closed his eyes and sank wearily to the floor. He rubbed his eyes and was startled to feel hot tears there - tears he hadn't cried for a long time.  Why had the old man come back to haunt him again, after so long?  He'd left Kit alone for months, and the boy could hardly afford these distractions now that he was back on his own.  Now that he was alone. The cub sat, head buried in his hands, for long moments, slowly gathering his composure and banishing the demons of nightmares from his thoughts.  It always took time, and he always felt spent and exhausted after, but he needed all of his faculties.  Finally he stood and stretched wearily, getting his bearings.  He was in a tiny storage shed that he'd found unlocked the evening before.  Outside, he could faintly hear the ringing of a signal buoy on the harbor.  It was time for him to find a ride... The boy checked his watch - seven fifteen A.M..  He opened the door of the shed and stepped out into the bright sunshine of the Cape Suzette morning.  The warmth immediately bucked his spirits a little - he was used to waking up stiff and sore from cold after sleeping in places like the shed.  He looked around him - several planes could be seen moored on the water, tied to the docks that fronted the numerous small buildings along the shore.  A few people milled about here and there, on the docks or near the buildings.  Kit set off at a brisk walk towards one of the planes, his stomach growling with hunger. The blue seaplane sat unattended on the water, no signs of activity nearby, but a few docks farther along the water he saw someone loading crates onto a hulking Drummond P-54 freighter.  He took off at a jog, and as he drew closer saw that the man was a husky panther in a tan flight shirt.  He easily lifted the large crates in his burly arms and muscled them into the cargo hold. "Hey." Kit said casually.  The panther paused for a second or less, staring at the boy, then resumed his chore.  "Need some help?" Kit asked cheerfully. "Get lost!" the man growled, not pausing in his task. "Sorry!" Kit said softly.  "Listen - I need a ride.  If I load those for you maybe-" "I said _get lost_!" the panther growled, advancing on the cub menacingly. "Sorry, sorry!" Kit stammered, backing away quickly. "Damned urchins - I don't need your trouble!  Beat it before I call the cops, you hear me, Runt?" Kit didn't need to be told again - he dashed away at full speed, leaving the big cat muttering in his wake.  "Well, that didn't work!" he grumbled to himself.  He was frustrated - Kit had never really cared - or at least never been able to afford to care - where he was going before.  Stowing away or bumming a ride was easy under those circumstances.  He was in new territory now, and he didn't like it. Activity was picking up around the docks now, as a few more late risers straggled outside and began their tasks for the day.  Kit saw a tall, thin grey dog stretch mightily and disappear into a battered white seaplane.  The cub dashed over, hoping to catch the pilot before he took off, but before he reached the dock the man appeared again and started back towards the wooden building next to the pier. ~Time for something different...~ Kit mused.  "Uh, excuse me?  Mister?" he called out, faintly as possible without being too soft for the man to hear. "Eh?" the dog said, surprised.  Kit saw his face for the first time, and he was quite young, perhaps twenty-five.  "Scared me, Kid!  What's up?" "Um..." the cub began hesitatingly.   " I'm real sorry to bother you but... I need a ride, that is if you're flying today...  I wouldn't ask, but you looked so nice-" "Eh?  A ride?" the dog squinted.  "What's this all about?" "S-sorry!" Kit sighed, burying his face in his hands.  "It's just - I'm in trouble Mister!  I really need your help..." "What kinda trouble, Sonny?" the dog said amiably. "I - I was s-supposed to meet my folks... at someplace called Louie's.  And n-now I c-can't get there, and they'll be real mad-" he stammered. "Louie's?" the dog frowned.  "Sure... But what's this all about?  How old are ya, Kid?" "F-fourteen." Kit sobbed.  "S-see... I was staying with my Grandma - My dad gave me some money, for an air taxi.  But I _lost_ it!  I lost it Mister, and I'm gonna get in real trouble, and I _can't_ tell my Dad -  I just can't!  He gets real mad and when he's mad he - he-" "Take it easy!" the man smiled, giving the boy an appraising look as he peeked back at him through his fingers.  "That's quite a story...  Listen, I-" "_Please_ Mister!" Kit begged.  "I'll help you load your plane, whatever.  I'm stronger than I look!" "Calm down, Sonny!" the man chuckled.  "I ain't got no cargo to load, Kid.  But I gotta pickup in New Fedora, and Louie's ain't too far outta the way.  I'll give ya a ride over there if ya want." "R-really?" Kit sobbed. "Yeah, whatever." the dog grinned.  "I'm Rick.  Whadda they call you, Kid?" "Uh, Kit.  Kit Cloudkicker." the boy sniffed.  "Gee thanks, Mister!  You're savin' my life-" "No sweat!" Rick chuckled.  "And it's Rick, not Mister!  Now come inside, I can hear your stomach all the way over here!  I might have a donut or somethin' around the place, you can eat something before we take off." "Thanks!" Kit grinned, following the tall dog into the ramshackle building.  Pilots, as a rule, were decent folk - and in Kit's experience, the scruffier they looked, the nicer they were.  Phase one of the plan was complete...     Rebecca's morning had progressed much like most of her mornings had over the last year.  She woke Molly, fed her breakfast, showered and dressed while the cub was eating.  The it was into the Grymouth sedan her father had bought for her, drop the girl at school and on to the Cunningham Holdings building.  She could have done it in her sleep, and there were some mornings when she was quite certain she had. Everything felt different today, however.  Her steps were heavier, somehow.  This was the day she was supposed to have left for Cape Suzette, for her new life.  Instead, she was squarely ensconced in her old one.  Molly and her father had been the two happiest folks in Winger City when they'd found out the deal had fallen through, each for their own reasons.  ~The girl takes after her grandfather.~ Rebecca mused bitterly.~  Both of them scared of change, and both determined to get exactly what they want.~ She knew something was amiss as soon as she arrived in her office.  Everything - her plants, the photo of Molly from her desk, even her calendar - were gone.  Puzzled, she headed down the hall to her father's palatial space.  The Cheshire grin on his face was the final clue.  "Why, good morning, Becky!" he said innocently.  "Whatever's the matter?" "I think you probably know, Daddy." she sighed.  "I'm in no mood for games.  What's happened to my office?" "You mean that storage closet you were in before?" Gregory chuckled.  "It's simple - I didn't think that was a space befitting a vice-president - what if the stockholders saw?" "Vice-president?!?" she gasped.  "Dad, I told you that wasn't what was bothering me, why I wanted to-" "Oh, I know Darling!  But you deserve it, and it was time.  You're more than capable of handling the added responsibility, and I'm sure the 60% pay raise will come in handy!" "Added responsibility..." she sighed.  "Dad - you already have a full slate of V.P.s-" "Always room for one more!" he interrupted.  "It's still my company, dammit!  If I say you're a vice-president you are.  I had your things moved into Joel Bearington's old office, down the hall.  It's much bigger than your old one, harbor view-" "Daddy! she snapped.  "You knew that I wasn't happy - You knew that I was looking-" "So look!  In the meantime you'll have a nicer office, more money..." "Daddy..."  Rebecca shook her head angrily.  It always played out the same way.  He never understood her.  _Why_ did he never understand her?  "I know you think you're doing a nice thing for me, but-" "But nothing!  Look - why don't you just go and get settled into your new office, enjoy it?  Then knock off early, spend some time with Molly-" "Knock off early?  What about my added responsibility?" she asked wryly. "All in good time Becky, all in good time.  What's your hurry?  Get settled into the job first!  You've got plenty of time..."     "Thanks again for the lift, Rick." Kit grinned at the lanky hound, the gratitude in his voice genuine.  "You're really saving my life!" "Sure, Kid." the pilot nodded casually.  "Gives me an excuse to stop at Louie's anyways - these cargo runs get pretty boring.  Sorry I couldn't find any food in the dump..." "I ain't hungry." the boy lied, eyes darting about the cockpit of the old seaplane.  "Cargo hauling seems pretty exciting to me!" "I bet!" the dog chuckled.  "Ya like planes, Son?" "Sure!  I haven't seen a Huge ForrestAir for a while though.  Didn't know there were any still in operation." "You got somethin' to learn about flattery, Kit!" Rick laughed.  "This baby may be old, but she gets me where I need to go, and that's the bottom line.  And those bells and whistles don't get the cargo delivered safe." "Sorry!" the cub said hastily.  "I didn't mean-" "I know ya didn't, don't worry." the pilot said with a wave.  He cast a sidelong glance at his passenger.  "So Kit - you were stayin' with your grandma, huh?"  The boy nodded nervously.  "How come you got no luggage?  Travelin' light?" Kit shifted nervously in his seat.  "Uh - I forgot it.  Left it at Louie's!  See, I forget things a lot, that's why my dad was already mad at me-" "I bet!" the pilot chuckled.  "And your parents let a what - eleven year-old - fly alone?" "I'm twelve!" Kit replied indignantly. "Small for that!  I thought you said you were fourteen?" "I did - that is, I..." "Look, Kit - I don't really care what your story is, you seem like a nice enough kid.  I don't mind takin' ya to Louie's, no big deal.  We're almost there anyways.  But if you got parents out there somewhere, don't be a fool-" "I _tol'_ ya, I'm meetin' 'em at Louie's!" the cub scowled.  "And I thought you didn't care?" "I know." Rick sighed, banking the seaplane in for a landing at Louie's pier.  "Just take care o' yerself, all right?  Don't be a fool - it's pretty nasty out there, whether you know it or-" "I know it, believe me!" the cub hissed.  He cast a long look at the tall dog as the pontoons kissed the water.  "Thanks - thanks for the ride.  You didn't have to, I appreciate it." "You're welcome." the pilot smiled grimly, extending his paw, which Kit shook.  "Let's head on in then - I didn't fly all this way just to skip breakfast." Louie's Place was fairly busy as Rick walked through the bamboo doors, Kit behind him.  Louie was behind the bar, talking animatedly on the radio.  Rick sidled up to the bar and took a seat, turning to look for Kit, but the boy had disappeared from view. Kit had slipped away from the pilot, and he crept up the stairs cautiously, scanning the club for familiar faces.  The pirates had followed him here once already, and it didn't hurt to be cautious.  There was no sign of anyone he knew - other than Rick, who was sipping from a mug of coffee and looking around the bar.  ~Looking for me!~ Kit thought. A swell of relief washed over Kit as he spotted his treasure still safely tucked away in Louie's tiki mask.  He grabbed it and clutched it to his chest, and sat down to think.  He had to make his way to a major city somewhere, sell the thing.  It shouldn't be hard - Louie's seemed to be full of pilots at all hours.  Should he stow away or hitch another ride? There were risks either way.  If he stowed away and was caught, he was a criminal - and whoever found him might take the jewel away, knowing Kit would never report the theft to the authorities. Of course, he would never - _could_ never_ do that, in any case - but they wouldn't know that...  If he hitched another ride somewhere, that threat was absent - but he was still a hitchhiker, and any pilot without much in the way of scruples might be tempted by the sight of the little wooden box and the weak-looking boy who carried it... Kit decided to gamble and try to hitch a ride.  He slipped back down the stairs, and the sight of Rick at the bar momentarily startled him.  He'd either have to tell the dog the truth or wait till he left, otherwise the whole bar would know he was a liar.  He climbed up on a stool on the far side of the bar, chin in hands, to think about it. "You don't say, Cuz!" Louie said loudly, an expression of concern on his face as he continued to address the radio.  "Man, dat's bad news!  You got no idea why?  I'll ask around, Fuzzy, see if I kin figger somethin' out.  Mebbe you oughtta lay low fer a while, ya hear what I'm sayin'?  Dang - yer right!  Well, you be careful Cuz -ya hear me?  Yeah, keep me posted.  Catch ya later, Baloo!" Kit jerked upright at the sound of Baloo's name.  "What the-" he gasped, fear rising in his chest. "What was that all about, Louie?" one of the pilots at the bar asked the orangutan.  "You seem kinda shook up!" "Dat was Baloo, Man!" the ape sighed.  "He's in trouble - he been in the air three times yesterday and this mornin' - and Don Karnage has attacked him ever' time!" "Ya don't say?" another pilot whistled.  "Man, that pirate's bad news!  How'd Baloo get on 'is bad side?" "That's just it, Cuz - ol' Fuzzy don't know!  He ain't been haulin' anythin' valuable, but outta the blue those crooks is after 'im!  He's only just managed to dodge 'em so far, but they clipped 'is port engine this time - he's holed up on some island somewheres, doesn't even know where!  He figgers as soon as he shows his tail section, those pirates'll be all over 'em like ugly on - somethin'!" "Oh no!" Kit gasped, hiding his face in his hands.  It didn't help - Baloo's visage was inside his head, staring at him accusingly.  "What're they after _mer_ for?  I don't have anything they want!" "No, no no, no..." he mumbled into his hands.  "No..." "What can I get ya, Sonny?  Say..."  Louie was standing in front of him.  "Ain't you that kid was in here yesterday?" "Oh, man!" Kit whispered. "Listen, L'il Cuz - I dunno what yer story is, but I don't want no trouble in my bar!  Maybe you better go-" "What's up?" Rick asked, coffee cup in hand as he sauntered over to them.  "Kit?" "Oh man - I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen..." Kit sighed. Louie's manner softened a little at the pained look on the youngster's face.  "What, Kid?  Talk ta ol' Louie!  What's goin' down?" "I can't..." "Kit - what's goin' on?" Rick asked.  "You in trouble?" "It's my fault." the boy sighed.  "I know why those pirates are chasing Baloo." "Ya do, huh?" Louie scowled.  "Listen, Shortstop - maybe ya didn't mean nothin' but Fuzzy's in deep - once those pirates get their claws in ya they don't let go easy.  If you kin help him-" "I can't!" Kit said desperately, blinking away tears. "Easy Kid, easy!" Rick said soothingly, hand on the boy's shoulder. Kit balled his paws into fists and pounded the bar angrily.  Faces stared back at him, but not Louie and Rick's faces.  They accused him, condemned him.  He'd done terrible things, and thought to escape them without punishment, even to profit.  It was time to end it.  He opened his eyes and knuckled the tears away absently.  He stared intently at Louie.  "Can I trust you?" Louie blinked in surprise.  "Kid, mebbe ya don't know, but Fuzzy - Baloo - he's my best pal, we go back a long ways.  If ya can help 'im out - sure, ya kin trust me all the way to the bank!" "It's my fault..." Kit sniffed.  "I - stole something.  From Karnage.  But he thinks Baloo has it - he thinks Baloo and I are... friends.  I hitched a ride with Baloo yesterday, and Karnage followed us-" "Man, yer in with some bad apples there, Shortstop!" Louie whistled.  "You messed with the wrong guy..." "You don't know the half of it!" the cub sighed.  "Listen - it's not right that Baloo gets in trouble over this - he had nothin' to do with it!  I've got to help him." "How, Kid?" Rick asked dubiously.  "You don't wanna mess with Karnage..." Kit stared at Louie long and hard, trying to find some malice or deception in the ape's friendly eyes.  He had to trust him - he had no choice, and he knew it.  "Louie - I... I have it - what I stole from Karnage.  Here." "Yeah?" "Yeah.  Listen - if Karnage ever finds me, he'll - he'll kill me.  Radio him - tell him you have the rock, tell him Kit Cloudkicker gave it to you.  He'll believe you once he hears the name.  Leave it somewhere, or have him get it here, whatever - but tell him it's here, Baloo doesn't have it.  Tell him Baloo never knew me before yesterday, I stowed away on his plane.  Karnage might not believe it, but once he has the stone it won't be worth his trouble to chase Baloo constantly." "Invite Karnage - here?" Louie hissed.  "I dunno, Cuz..." "I can't give it to him - he'll kill me!  It's the only way, I know it is." "What's this 'stone', Kit?" Rick interjected. "It's a jewel, a treasure." Kit said.  "It was gonna make me rich, but I don't even care anymore.  Karnage can have it.  I'll just go somewhere, once he has the rock he won't bother to track me down." "Man, you really got yerself in a pickle, Sonny!" Rick sighed. "All right, Kid." Louie scowled.  "I hate ta even talk ta that scum on the radio, but if it'll take the heat offa Fuzzy's burner, I'll do it.  But you'll hafta make like a banana and split before he gets here!" "I'll give you a lift to New Fedora, Kid.  At least it'll get you out of here before Karnage shows up." Rick said, shaking his head sadly. "You'd be smart not to get involved with me..." Kit said softly. Louie looked the cub over, up and down.  "Man - you look scruffier than a cur at the pound, L'il Cuz!  Least I kin give ya somethin' ta eat before ya go.  Ya hongry?" "He's hungry!" Rick interjected.  "What ya want, Kid?  It's a long flight to New Fedora." Kit sighed.  Even in this jam, with all the trouble he'd caused - he was hungry, he couldn't stop thinking about food.  "D'you have any ice cream?" The ape's face brightened for a moment.  "Kid, you asked the right guy!  Lemme whip ya up a Krakatoa Special, it'll set ya right." "Thanks." Kit said glumly, handing the ape his treasure.  "Here it is, Louie."  The boy slunk over to a table and buried his head in his hands. Rick and Louie watched him for a moment, as the ape stashed the box under the bar.  "Jeez, Louie - he seems like such a nice kid.  How'd he get into so much trouble?" "Who knows, Cuz?" the ape asked sadly.  "Mebbe the trouble got into him...  Bring him da ice cream, Man.  I gotta go radio Don Karnage.  Never thought I'd be sayin' that..."   New Fedora was new to Kit - yet another place he'd never been before.  As he walked around, he was struck by how dull and lifeless it appeared, after Cape Suzette.  It would do, however, as a place to be when Don Karnage showed up at Louie's.  Kit knew no one here, and no one knew him.  Except for Rick, of course - but the cub had slipped away from him soon after they'd landed.  No point in getting another innocent bystander caught up in his problems... The boy sat on a park bench near the water to take stock.  He had, as was his plan, escaped Don Karnage.  He was free once again - free but destitute.  His dreams of wealth had gone the way such dreams usually do, and he was right back where he'd been a year before, before he'd ever met the pirate captain.  The only difference was that he was a year older - and being alone felt lonelier now than it had then. He emptied his pockets, which turned up a dollar bill and nine cents in change.  That wouldn't last long.  He was broke, and his survival skills were weak, rusty.  Worst of all, he couldn't shake the gnawing emptiness in his gut that threatened to drag him to the ground with every step.  He was mourning what he'd lost, and not just the jewel.  Grief was a weakness, and Kit knew it.  He couldn't afford any emotional weaknesses - being a small boy on the street presented him with enough physical ones to worry about. The cub was right back where he'd been a year ago... and that gave him an idea.  If he could survive out here then, he could surely do it now - now that he was older, nearly a teenager even if he didn't look it.  But he needed time - time to adapt himself to being around people, time to sharpen his survival skills.  Time to grieve.  There was only one place where he could do that.  With a sigh, he stood and set out to find the airfield.     The diploma sat in the same place it always had - in the living room., above the radio, across from the couch.  Rebecca had stared at it on countless nights, most of the time not even consciously noting it's presence.  On this night however, it mocked her.  She couldn't tear her eyes away. Hartmouth University.  Paragon of the Wisteria League, symbol of higher education in Usland.  Masters in Business Administration.  Graduated with honors, and a semester early at that.  It symbolized all the hope and promise she'd felt as a young woman, the world seemingly at her doorstep, the only obstacles she faced the staid prejudices of a business world dominated by men, and the only limitations those she placed on herself.  And here it hung, in her father's house. Not according to him, of course.  But the little two bedroom cottage on Argyle Street was in his name.  She would sleep there tonight, and wake up and drive her father's car to her father's office.  The father who had given her everything - an education, a job... "Mommy, can I listen to 'The Specter' with you tonight?" Rebecca jerked her attention away from the framed document to her daughter, who had wandered out of her bedroom and stood expectantly in front of the couch, her doll Lucy clutched in her arms.  "Is it that time already?  I don't know, Molly...  The last time I let you listen you had nightmares, remember?  About the big carrot that tried to step on you?" "Aw, I was just a little kid then!" the yellow cub scowled. "It was only three weeks ago!" Rebecca chuckled. "I can handle it, Mom!" the girl pouted, sticking out her lower lip.  Molly only called her 'Mom' when she was trying desperately to sound all grown up. ~So much like her grandfather...  Always gets what she wants...~  "Oh, all right Sweetie. " Rebecca sighed.  She walked over to the radio and tuned in NCB.  "Come on up and sit with me, Honey, in case it gets too scary." "OK!" the cub grinned, climbing onto the couch. "Why do you like 'The Specter' so much anyway?" Rebecca laughed. "'Cause it's spooky!" Molly grinned. "Spooky, huh?  I suppose...  Won't it be exciting once I start my new job, Molly?  There'll be more money for things, you know.  Toys, trips..." "I guess." the cub replied.  "That stuff's no big deal.  I bet you really wanted to go to Cape Suzette, didn't ya Mommy?" "Molly!  Why would you say that?" Rebecca asked, surprised. "I ain't stupid!  Mommy, if you really wanna go I'll be OK, I promise." 'Thanks!" Rebecca whispered, hugging the little girl to her chest.  "You know, it's very important that we talk about why I wanted to-" "Shush!  It's starting!" Molly hissed urgently.  With a rueful shake of the head, Rebecca leaned back on the couch and closed her eyes, giving herself over the Specter.     The landscape beneath the Conwing L-16 was beginning to look familiar to Kit as the afternoon slowly progressed towards evening.  It had been a tiring two day journey from New Fedora, and the cub was feeling the effects of it.  This was the third leg of the journey, with thee different pilots, but he was in no hurry.  He had no plans. Somewhere behind him, Don Karnage probably had the jewel in his possession by now.  Kit had planned his whole future around that treasure, and now that it was gone he felt adrift.  He saw several paths in front of him, and he didn't much like the looks of any of them.  He didn't expect to find answers where he was going, but maybe if he were lucky he would find rest. "Nearly there." the gruff voice of the pilot next to him broke Kit's reverie.  He'd hooked up with Garon in Lipton, a small cargo town north of New Fedora.  The L-16 had been adorned with the friendly flight marker, and Kit had been only too pleased to find anyone going where he wanted to go.  Fitting, somehow, that he should complete this journey in an L-16.  "You been here before, Son?" "Yup." Kit replied softly.  The old leopard was nice enough, but the cub was in a contemplative mood. "Ain't exactly Valhalla." the grizzled cat scowled, bringing the seaplane in low and extending the landing gear.  "Decent folk though.  Kit, you got no stuff at all?  No bag?  No clothes?" "Nope." the boy sighed.  "Just me." Garon shook his head.  "Guess Freeburg's as good a place as any then.  You got any money?" "A little." the boy lied. "You can't stay here forever, Kit." the man frowned as the wheels screeched into contact with the lonely landing strip.  It was surrounded by thick forest on all sides.  "What're you gonna do after?" "Dunno!" the cub smiled wearily.  "I got no plans.  Guess I'll figure something out when the time comes.  It worked for me before...  Are you coming to the camp?" The Conwing coasted to a stop at the end of the strip.  "Naw - got a pickup in a few hours.  Say Hi to everybody though." "Will do.  Thanks for the ride!" Kit grinned, extending his hand.  "Is the camp still in the same place?" "Yup - quarter-mile due east." the leopard nodded.  "Take care o' yourself, Kit." "You too, Garon.  Thanks."  The boy hopped down to the ground and set off through the trees.  The old leopard watched him, frowning, until he disappeared.  He pivoted the L-16 and set off down the landing strip, taking to the air and vanishing into the setting sun. Kit walked briskly through the forest, eager to arrive at the hobo camp and get some sleep.  He'd spent time there for more than a year, off and on, before he joined up with Don Karnage.  A traveler in need was always welcome there - there were few rules, hobos is general being suspicious of rules.  But certain things were understood - you didn't make trouble for anybody else, and you didn't overstay your welcome.  And anything you had, you shared.  If you had anything. The faint acrid smell of wood smoke tickled Kit's nose, which twitched in recognition of the familiar scent.  He could hear voices now, faintly, and he began to wonder if he'd recognize many of the folks at the camp.  With the exception of a few old-timers who had lost the will or the ability to travel, the cast of characters tended to turn over pretty quickly. He emerged from the trees into a large clearing, where a group of perhaps twenty souls were gathered around a fire pit, talking quietly.  Tents were set up here and there in the clearing, and a few small campfires burned around the main pit like satellites orbiting a star.  "Ho!" Kit called, alerting the group to his presence. "Ho, traveler!" a large wolf called warily.  Kit recognized him as one of the semi-regular residents from his time there before. Kit advanced on the group with a nod.  "Lars - it's me, Kit Cloudkicker!  Don't you recognize me?" To his surprise the boy recognized several faces in the group.  Heads were poking out of tents in curiosity at a new resident. The wolf extended a grey paw.  "Welcome, Cloudkicker!  I haven't seen you in better than a year!  You've grown!" "Not enough!" the cub scowled ruefully.  "What's new, Lars?" "C'mon, sit by the fire." the wolf grunted.  "You have nothing - no food, no clothes, no sleeping bag?" "No." Kit said softly. "Our fire is your fire." a dark-eyed lynx nodded in established greeting as the boy sat cross-legged on the ground.  "You hungry, Boy?" "Yes Sir." Kit nodded. "Name's Mercury." the lithe cat said gruffly.  Kit made a mental note that the deferential pose of his Iron Vulture persona wouldn't fit in with this group.  The cat handed the boy a metal bowl of thin stew.  "Eat something, you're thin as a board." "Thanks!" Kit grinned, spooning some of the stew into his mouth.  He'd forgotten in his exhaustion just how hungry he was.  He looked around and nodded at several faces he recognized.  His eyes fell on a lioness dressed in a ragged black blouse and skirt, perhaps in her mid -60s.  "Layna!" he exclaimed in delight. The woman rose and walked over to him.  "Kit." she nodded brusquely.  The boy was stunned by her coldness - she was a more or less permanent resident, and had been one of the kindest of all the camp inhabitants when he'd visited in the past.  "Are you well?" "I'm fine." the cub whispered, the hurt plainly visible in his face.  The lioness smiled thinly and patted him on the shoulder, then disappeared into her tent.  Kit returned his attention to the stew, conscious of a quiet that had descended on the camp.  The only sound was the crackling of the wood on the fire and the rustling of the wind through the trees. The boy had nearly finished the stew when he felt a hand roughly grab his shoulder and shake it.  He spun and looked up into the visage of a spotted hyena, one of the faces he'd vaguely recognized from before.  "It's Griff - right?" he said politely. The hyena scowled and spat onto the ground next to Kit.  "You got a hell of a nerve coming back here!" he growled. "Huh?" Kit gasped, sliding away from the towering figure. "You heard me!  Where's your friend Don Karnage?" "D-Don Karnage?  He's no friend of mine!" "Griff..." Lars said softly, standing and placing a hand on the hyena's shoulder. "You're a pirate!" Griff spat.  "You're a traitor to all of us, Cloudkicker.  Everybody who ever accepted the hospitality of this camp!  Pirates are the scourge of travelers everywhere, and you're a pirate!  Get out!" "But, I'm not-" Kit protested. The lynx stood.  "Sit down, Griff.  The boy is tired and hungry.  We don't send children away from our fire tired and hungry.  Sit down." "He's no 'boy'!" the hyena scowled.  "He's one of Karnage's scum!" "No!" Kit shouted.  "I - I was... but I left!  I got away from him, I ran..."  Several of the faces around the fire were staring at him with scorn in their eyes. "He doesn't deserve our food, our fire!  What's the matter, Scum - Karnage didn't give you a big enough share of his stolen loot?  Didn't let you get in on enough of the killing?" "Stop!" Lars hissed. "No!" Kit sputtered.  "I'm not like him!  I'm _not_ _like_ _him_!  I'm not!"  The cub threw his bowl to the ground, sprang to his feet and dashed into the trees. Kit ran for a few moments, blindly, and finally fell to the ground, exhausted.  He hugged his knees to his head and closed his eyes tightly.  Was it true - was he truly a pirate at heart, when it was all said and done?  He was an outcast now - an outcast even among other outcasts.  A series of small sobs escaped his chest. After a few moments he heard footsteps crunching through the leaves, slowly approaching him.  He didn't look up, but he could hear someone standing over him, breathing slowly.  A pair of hands clutched his shoulders gently.  "He doesn't speak for all of us." "I'm sorry, Layna." Kit sobbed, cursing the tears of weakness that streamed down his face.  "I'm so sorry..." "I know.  That's why you were right.  That's why you aren't like them." the lioness said gently. "I shouldn't have come here..." the cub whispered hoarsely.  "Griff's right, I betrayed all of you, I don't deserve your hospitality-" "Nonsense!" the lioness chuckled, squeezing his shoulders.  "We don't turn away hungry children, Kit.  We'd be no better than pirates if we did.  I was angry, when I first saw you... but now I'm not.  I know you better than Griff does.  He's a loudmouth, a troublemaker.  He's made mistakes in his life, too.  We all have.  I'm glad you're here, now." "I'm so sorry, Layna...  It was the worst thing I've ever done!  All I ever seem to do is make trouble..." "I know you're sorry." the lioness said softly.  "You stay in my tent tonight, it's going to be chilly.  Come on back to the fire now." Kit closed his eyes and saw the ragged faces staring at him, contempt etched in their stares.  "They all hate me, Layna!" he sobbed, willing the tears to stop with no success.  "They hate me..." "A few do.  Old Layna has been here a long time, her words carry some weight.  They'll change their tune." the lioness chuckled.  She hugged Kit to her chest and smoothed the fur on his head tenderly.  The boy was aware of the musty, sour smell of her clothing, but also of the comforting warmth of her embrace.  "Stop crying, now.  We've all had our troubles, Angel.  That's why we're here.  Stop crying and come by the fire, get warm.  You'll feel better after a long sleep." The cub sobbed a few times, then took a deep breath and lifted his head, forcing a smile.  The old lioness grabbed his hand and they walked back to the fire pit, glowing bright orange in the encroaching darkness.   Despite his exhaustion sleep refused to claim Kit for a long while.  He lay in a tattered sleeping bag in Layna's tent, watching the flames from the fire pit dance in silhouette through the canvas.  After a time he heard voices outside, engaged in a debate.  They spoke quietly, but he could hear the intensity of their speech.  Finally, the tent flap opened and he saw Layna drop a cigarette to the ground, crushing it with her foot. Kit lay back, hands behind his head, as Layna stepped through the opening and into the tent, carrying an oil lamp.  "Still awake, Angel?" she smiled at him. "You shouldn't call me that." the cub whispered. "Hmm.  Angel?" the lioness chuckled, sitting cross-legged on the old army cot that served as her bed.  "Whyever not?" "Because of who I am." Kit said sullenly.  "Because of what I've done...  Can you ever forgive me, Layna?" "I already have, Child.  It's not my forgiveness you should be concerning yourself with."  She smiled at him by the flickering light and was seized by a fit of coughing.  She took a sip of tea from a metal cup and leaned back on the cot.  "You're an Angel to me, Child.  The same angel who walked into this camp with Rudder whenever it was, two years ago...  And you don't belong in this place any more now than you did then.  You'll always be an angel to me..." "Thank you." the boy whispered, shutting his eyes tight.  Her words of comfort filled him with pain.  The old lioness coughed again, violently, and breathed heavily.  "Are you OK, Layna?" he asked in concern. "What - this cough?" she laughed bitterly.  "Too many cold nights, Kit.  Is that old sleeping bag all right?" "It's fine." Kit smiled.  "Maybe you should see a doctor-" "Bah!  Don't hold with doctors!" she scowled.  "Stop worrying your head with that, Angel.  Get some rest."  The lioness extinguished the oil lamp and sighed.  "Sleep well, Kit." "You too.  Night." Kit yawned, weary beyond description.  The old lioness hummed a wordless tune in the dark, her rough voice taking on a kind of beauty as the cub hovered between wakefulness and sleep.  Long buried memories, the faces that once inhabited them long since lost, sparked into life and entered his thoughts as they sometimes did.  The voice carried him away, and gentle arms rocked him to sleep in his mind.     "Here we are, Molly." Rebecca pulled the car into the long driveway of her parents' house.  Dinner at her parents' place was always a mixed bag for Rebecca - her mother's cooking was a welcome change from her own somewhat more pedestrian fare, and she felt it was important for Molly to spend time with her grandparents.  Still, she saw so much of her father already, during the week... "I wonder what Grandma cooked for dinner." the yellow cub mused as her mother carried her up the long walk to the front door. "I dunno, Molly!" Rebecca chuckled.  "You don't have to act so zealous!  I try my best, you know, but all that culinary stuff never made any sense for me..." "What's 'zealous', Mommy?" "That's you slobbering all over yourself knowing you don't have to eat Mommy's cooking!" the bearess laughed, unlocking the door and stepping inside.  "Hello all - we're here!" "Hello Darling - in here!" Kayla called out from the kitchen.  Rebecca set Molly down and the little girl dashed in ahead of her.  By the time Rebecca reached the huge kitchen Molly was already in her grandmother's arms.  "Hello, Rebecca!  How are things?" "Fine Mother.  Where's Dad?" "Oh, he's working on some big project down at the office.  The usual, some acquisition or something.  He said he'd try to be back by dinner time, so-" "Don't wait for him!" Rebecca chuckled ruefully.  "I understand, Mom.  That's odd - I didn't know anything about a big deal coming down..." "What's fer dinner, Grandma?" Molly piped in. "Your eyes are as big as your stomach!" Kayla laughed.  "Roast ptarmigan, with garlic potatoes, broccoli and rosemary bread." "Roast ptarmigan?" Rebecca chuckled, savoring the delicious smells emanating from the oven.  "Mom, I don't know how you do it!" "It's not so hard." her mother said dismissively.  "You just rub the skin with-" "Grandma, can I go see the horses?" Molly interrupted. "Of course Darling." Kayla smiled.  "Let me just get the potatoes started.  Well, Dear - I suppose you're glad you didn't go to Cape Suzette now, eh?" "What do you mean, Mother?" Rebecca frowned. "You didn't hear?  There was some sort of invasion, air pirates or some awful thing.  They destroyed a bunch of buildings, bridges.  People were hurt-" "Air pirates?  Really?" Rebecca asked, slack-jawed.  "When did all this happen?" "Oh, just the day before yesterday, I'm surprised you didn't hear about it.  I still have the newspaper around somewhere..." "Horsies!" Molly snapped petulantly, tugging on the black bearess' apron. "All right!" her grandmother laughed, scooping the cub up in her arms.  "If anything starts to boil you'll turn down the heat, Rebecca?" "Of course Mom." Rebecca said absently as the two disappeared out the back door.  Air pirates - in Cape Suzette?  That was strange.  And why did it upset her so?  She almost felt... guilty, somehow, as if she should have been there, fighting them off.  Strange.  With a sigh, she went to search for the newspaper.   Rebecca checked her reflection in the mirror of the executive washroom for the fifteenth time.  She was perfect - her makeup, her hair, her blouse.  Not a wrinkle or a stitch out of place.  So why did the idea of walking into that boardroom fill her with a sense of dread? ~My first board meeting.  Something I've dreamed about since I was a little girl... No, scratch that - something I dreamed about _as_ a little girl.  Haven't dreamed about it much since then...~  With a sigh she turned and slipped out of the washroom and headed down the carpeted hall towards the big double doors at the end. Her father had spent so many hours in that room.  So many great decisions, fortunes made.  It was as much his home as the house he slept in.  It gave him everything he wanted out of life.  Without it, he wouldn't be a whole person, and she knew it. She paused outside the door, straightening her skirt one last time.  ~First impressions...~ she thought bitterly.  But then, those men in there already had their impressions of her.  She was the boss' daughter.  The boss' daughter and now she was on the board. She cracked the door open and gingerly stepped through.  A flurry of hushed conversation ceased as soon as she stepped into the room, and the six men who sat around the long oval table stared at her collectively and then looked away.  She nodded a greeting and smiled stiffly.  An empty chair sat at the far end of the conference table, opposite her father's place.  She headed for it and sat down, setting her briefcase down next to her. "Welcome, Miss Cunningham." Mr. Blowers, an officious looking hippo who had been on the board for almost twenty years, smiled at her.  "It's good to have you on the board at last."  The other men around the table mumbled greetings in concert. "At last?" Rebecca smiled tightly. "Well...  Of course we all knew it was only a matter of time before you joined us on the board!" the hippo nodded awkwardly.  "Someone of your talents..." "Of course!" she nodded in response.  "I'll certainly do my best to make a positive contribution." "I'm sure you will." Gregory Cunningham walked into the room, beaming as he saw Rebecca sitting at the end of the table.  "Good morning everyone!  I see our newest board member is right on time." "Good morning,..." Rebecca began.  What to call him?  They hadn't discussed it... "Mr. Cunningham." Her father chuckled.  "I think under the circumstances no one would object to your calling me 'Dad'!  Anyone?"  There was a general chorus of nods and nervous chuckles.  "'Dad' it is then!" "Fine." she smiled, feeling a blush rising on her cheeks.  That had been awkward... Her father plowed ahead.  "Ah Rebecca - this is a dream come true for me, a dream come true!  It's an exciting day for Cunningham Holdings.  Now then - I don't expect you to participate in any specific manner today, Rebecca.  Just sit back and observe, get the feel of things.  All right?" "Of course, Dad." "Very well then - let's get down to brass tacks, shall we?  Any new business - Jenkins?"  Rebecca settled back to listen, feeling very much the fifth wheel.     Kit shivered as he stepped out of the hand-pumped camp shower that sat near the stream running through the trees.  The water was cold, icy cold, just as it always was, and the late winter mornings were chilly, even in this southerly latitude.  He got dressed quickly and started through the trees, back to the warmth of the fire pit. Kit had been surprised how quickly he'd settled back into camp life.  After two weeks the routines of the day were firmly ingrained in his mind.  There would be oatmeal cooking at the fire pit, small groups of travelers gathered in circles, talking and even laughing occasionally.  There would be chores to do, tasks to be carried out.  It would be another day. Kit nodded at Lars as the grey wolf passed him, towel over his shoulder on his way to the shower.  Lars appeared to have emerged as the de facto leader at the camp for the moment.  Leaders were anathema to hobos, as a rule, but in Kit's experience someone always seemed to emerge to make sure that things got done and everyone was fed.  It was human nature - some people were always turned to when decisions needed to be made.  And decisions sometimes needed to be made, even in Freeburg. Kit suspected that a decision had been made about him, that first night.  Griff had more or less left him alone since, other than an occasional venomous stare.  He had been met with cold glares by many of the camp residents at first, but by nature of his obvious work ethic and the fact that Layna had taken him under her wing most of them had come to accept him grudgingly. Kit figured that Lars had something to do with that too - he liked the grizzled wolf, who had always treated him fairly since his arrival.  Lars didn't say much but he acted with quiet determination and compassion.  Kit had also liked Mercury, the young lynx who had offered him food that first evening, but he had since moved on, as had a few others.  One or two new arrivals had taken their place.  That was the way of existence at Freeburg. Kit was already feeling physically stronger, even on the humble food of the camp.  Three meals a day of any sort was more than he was used to.  The comforts of a daily routine were soothing, but he still felt the same restlessness he'd felt in his stays there before.  There was a defeated quality to the faces he saw, and it made Kit tired to look at them.  There was always a sense of romance to the traveler's life at first - even some of the younger hobos at Freeburg still held onto scraps of it.  For the older residents, however, there was no romance - only weariness. "Morning!" Kit grinned at Aly, a young bobcat in her late teens who Kit figured was probably the youngest person in camp, after him.  A child passed through occasionally, but Kit rarely remembered seeing any during his stays there.  He settled down next to the bobcat by the fire, spooning oatmeal into a bowl. "Hi." she smiled.  "Sleep well?" "Fine."  The cub savored the warmth of the bland cereal as he swallowed it down.  "Has Layna been out for breakfast yet?" "Nope." the girl said with a shake of the head.  Layna had been coming out of her tent later and later in recent days.  "She not well, Kit." "I know." the cub whispered.  "I wish she'd go see a doctor.  One of the pilot's could fly her-" "She'll never do that!" Aly chuckled ruefully.  "She never liked doctors.  I heard she hasn't left the camp in four years." "Yeah - she told me that too." Kit sighed, scarfing down the hot cereal.  "I'm gonna bring her some oatmeal and tea, she must be tired today." "You're sweet!" the bobcat smiled.  "Layna really likes you, Kit." "I like her too." Kit replied, spooning oatmeal into another bowl and pouring a mug of tea.  "See you later."  He was worried about the old lioness - after an initial burst of energy upon his arrival, she'd been coughing more and more of late, and walking around less and less.  She was a shell of the strong, vibrant woman he remembered from years past. The lioness was sitting up in her cot when the boy poked his head into the tent.  "Morning, Angel." she said hoarsely, managing a weak smile. "Morning!" Kit grinned back at her.  "I thought you might like to eat breakfast in bed this morning.  You know, the good life!  So I brought you some tea and oatmeal." "That's dear of you!" Layna wheezed.  "Such a good heart, you always had such a good heart.  Leave the tea, but I'm not very hungry, thanks just the same." "Sure." Kit smiled, but her refusal worried him.  He handed her the steaming beverage and sat cross-legged next to the cot.  "I'll leave the oatmeal too, in case you change your mind.  Do you wanna talk for a while?" She was seized by a fit of coughing, then smiled weakly and patted his paw.  "I'm not much of a talker right now, Angel." "That's OK!" the cub replied, and they sat silently for a few moments as the lioness sipped the tea. "I'm glad I got to see you again, Kit." she said softly. "What do you mean?" Kit frowned. "Nothing, nothing." she wheezed.  "How long will you stay, Angel?  Where will you go?" I dunno." the cub sighed.  "I don't really have anywhere _to_ go.  That never seemed to matter to me before, somehow..." The old lioness shook her head disconsolately.  "Poor baby.  There are folks somewhere, a man and a woman - they'd kill or die to have a son like you, Angel.  It just doesn't seem right." "Don't you worry about me, I'll be fine." the cub said huskily, squeezing her paw.  "I'm tough, I'll be fine." "Course you will."  Layna coughed again.  "I'm worn out, all this talking.  Run along for a while, Kit.  I'll be out before lunch, don't you worry." "You sure you're OK?" "Just fine, Angel.  You leave that oatmeal, maybe I'll be hungry in a little while."  She leaned back, eyes closed. "OK.  See you later." Kit said quietly, slipping out of the tent.  He shivered as a cold breeze blew through the clearing.  Wrapping his arms tightly around himself, the cub set off for the fire pit to warm up.  He stopped short.  A black bear, perhaps forty years old and wearing a blue fur-lined flight jacket had appeared out of the trees and was walking towards him.  "Chester?!?" The bear looked up, eyes bleary, and lit up with recognition.  "Kit Cloudkicker?" "It's me!" the boy laughed, and without thinking threw his arms around the black bear, who returned the embrace.  Chester and his older brother Rudder, both pilots, had been among the few sometimes residents of Freeburg that Kit had numbered as friends.  They were both big-hearted and generous to a fault.  "I can't believe it!  It's been too long..." "Great to see you, Kit!" Chester grinned.  "You sprung up a little - that sweater fits you now!  Have ya had breakfast?" "Yeah - but I'll sit with ya!" Kit beamed.  They staked out places by the fire and the black bear helped himself to oatmeal.  "When did you get here, Chester?" "Late last night, Kiddo.  Pretty much everybody was asleep.  Just woke up a few minutes ago myself." "How's Rudder?" Chester laughed.  "Y'know Rudder, Kid!  He never changes.  He never stays in one place long enough for the roots to take.  He's haulin' cargo around San Flamingo as o' two weeks ago.  I suspect I'll run into him soon enough.  How 'bout you?  Been here long?" "Two weeks." "That a fact."  The black bear ate a few spoonfuls of the hot cereal.  "I gotta ask ya Kid - what happened?  Why Karnage?  Rudder 'n I darn near busted a fuel line when we heard-" "I bet." Kit sighed, looking down at his feet.  "I can't tell you Chester - all I can say is, it was the dumbest thing I ever did, and I've never passed a day since I joined him that I wasn't sorry.  I ditched him when - well, I even screwed that up, but at least I ditched him.  Can you forgive me?" "Sure, Kit." the pilot smiled.  "We all make mistakes.  No one expects ya to be perfect, especially at yer age.  That's in the past, now." "Yeah, in the past..." "Seen any o' the old gang?  Who's here?" "Well - Lars is here.  He seems to be takin' care of things, y'know.  Old Jeb McPhee's still here - I don't think he'll ever leave.  Griff's here, Terry.  And Layna, of course.  That's about it." "Layna!" Chester grinned.  "I missed her!  How is the old gal?  I haven't seen her." "She's - not too good, Chester." Kit whispered.  "I been sharin' her tent - I think theyd've kicked me outta here if she hadn't took me in.  She's got a real bad cough, and she hasn't been eatin' much.  It's pretty bad, I think.  And she won't see a doctor, naturally." "Naturally!" Chester scowled.  "Always was a stubborn bird.  Well, I'll pop in and visit her in a few minutes.  Boy, but it's good to see you, Junior!  I was pretty worried about you." "Worried - about me?" Kit asked, surprised. "Well sure, Sonny!  I didn't spend all those hours teachin' ya to read maps and such just to write ya off, did I?  I was really down when I heard you hooked up with Karnage, but I figured you were too smart to stick with that crook for long.  Figured you'd ditch him sooner or later.  It's good to see yer okay." "Thanks, Chester." Kit grinned.  "Thanks for everything you taught me - maybe I'll get a chance to use it someday." "Sure ya will." Chester chuckled.  "I know it."     "You see this?" the woman's voice said.  "This is an airplane!  That's right!  Airplane!  Can you say it?" Kit looked up at the little model, his mouth trying to form the word, but it came out all wrong, sounding like "Eww-play".  The woman laughed a musical laugh and tweaked his nose gently. "That's all right, sweet boy!" she cooed.  "You'll be flying in one of these some day, I know you will!  Won't that be fun?  Yes!"  Kit heard himself giggling, and reached his hands up.  The woman grabbed them tenderly in her own.  For some reason, Kit couldn't see her face - it was blurry, cloudy.  He cried out in frustration. "What's the matter, Baby?" the voice said gently.  In contrast to the face, the voice was clear and sharp.  It was deep, lilting.  She sounded as if she were on the verge of laughter with every word.  Her voice soothed his anger, and he smiled.  "That's better!  That's better!" The woman reached down and cupped his face in her hands.  "My little pilot, that's what you are!  Yes you are!  You'll be flying a plane one day, my sweet boy.  We'll fly together, won't we?  Yes we will!  We'll fly together...     The voice was gone, and Kit found himself in darkness, silence.  He'd tried desperately to summon the voice back, but it would not come.  He growled in frustration, then opened his eyes, realizing he was awake.  It had been a dream... Almost as quickly he realized something was wrong.  He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the tent.  What was it?  Then he understood - silence.  "Layna?" he called out desperately. He rolled out of his sleeping bag and knelt next to the lioness' cot.  He was used to her heavy, ragged breaths, but now there was nothing - quiet.  "Layna!  Layna!" he half-shouted, shaking her gently.  "Layna!"  The woman did not respond, and he was met with stillness. He stumbled outside, tears rolling down his cheeks.  "Help!  Help!" he screamed.  "It's Layna!  She's -she's..." Lars was at his side in a matter of seconds, as faces began to appear in tent flaps and heads poked up from sleeping bags.  "What is it Kit?  What's wrong?"  The grey wolf grabbed the cub's hands gently. "It's Layna!  I think she's - I think she's-" "Wait outside." the wolf said grimly, ducking into the tent.  Kit fell to his knees, numb.  He wanted to go inside the tent, but his feet wouldn't move.  Around him, people were starting to mill about, talking in hushed tones. Lars crawled out of the tent, a somber expression on his face.  He slowly walked past Kit and tousled his hair gently.  "She's dead." he said simply.  A hush fell over the assembled group. "She _can't_ be!" Kit said desperately.  "I was talking to her last night, before we went to sleep - she was fine!  She was making jokes..." Lars turned with a sigh.  "I think she was in a lot of pain, Kit.  I think she was tired.  It's better.  It was her time." "No..." Kit said softly.  He felt hands on his shoulders and saw Chester sitting next to him. "You OK, Kiddo?" the black bear asked tenderly. "No, I'm not!" Kit whispered. "I'm not..." "I know." the bear sighed.  "C'mon, let's go to my tent, it's cold out here.  Come on."  Kit numbly allowed himself to be led over to Chester's tent, taking a last look back to see Lars disappearing into Layna's tent..  He sat on the ground and hugged his knees as the pilot took out a small flask and poured a splash of liquid into a cup.  "Here - drink this.  It'll calm you down." The boy dully drank the liquid down, coughing as it burned his throat.  The pilot draped an arm over his shoulder.  "It'll be OK, Kit.  It's hard to accept sometimes, but sometimes it's just a person's time to go.  She was very sick..." "I know." the boy hissed.  "It just seems like everywhere I go, bad things happen!  I don't mean them to, but-" "Bull!" Chester spat.  "That's horsefeathers, Kit!  If anything, she was happier'n she thought she'd be, cause you were there.  Cause she knew you were all right." "But-" "But nothin'!  I've known - knew - Layna a lot longer'n you, Sonny.  Believe me, she was happy to see ya.  It was her time to go - that's all.  You made the last few days better for her.  You were the best thing she could've hoped for." Kit wanted to believe his friend, desperately so.  "Why does bad stuff happen, Chester?  Why does bad stuff happen everywhere I go?" "Bad stuff happens, Kit." the pilot said grimly, wrapping an arm around him.  "There's nothin' you or me or anybody can do about it except deal with and get on with our lives.  It's not yer fault or anybody else's." "Why did she have to die?" the boy asked softly, leaning his head on the black bear's shoulder, the liquor beginning to have it's effect as Kit drifted towards uneasy sleep. "I dunno, Kit." the pilot whispered.  After a few moments the boy was asleep, and Chester gently lowered him onto his sleeping bag.  With a sigh, the black bear took a long look at the cub's sleeping form and slipped out into the night.     The streets of Winger City were teeming with Saturday shoppers, among them a brown bearess in a purple jacket who idly browsed the shop windows, gaily decorated with eye-catching merchandise.  She checked her watch - another hour until Molly's Junior Cubs meeting was over, no need to rush. Rebecca was restless.  She found herself feeling that way a lot lately, and unable to say just why.  She could never sit down for more than a few moments, never pay attention to a radio show or a book without her mind wandering.  Molly had noticed it, of course - the cub was extremely sensitive to her moods. "That's beautiful!" she gasped, staring at an elaborate girl's riding outfit in the window of an upscale children's store.  "Molly would love that..."  Rebecca squinted at the price tag and chuckled ruefully.  Two hundred dollars, much too expensive.  "That's why they call it window shopping..." she muttered, starting to walk on. The bearess stopped after a few paces, frowning thoughtfully.  Why was it too much?  Her salary had increased dramatically...  If she wanted to buy that outfit for her daughter, there was really no reason why she couldn't.  She had to start thinking like a person of means - she _was_ one, now... With a slightly guilty chuckle the bearess turned and walked into the store, reaching for her checkbook.   "Mommy!  I love it!" the yellow cub gasped, holding the burgundy horseman's shirt and black breeches up in front of her. "I thought you might!" her mother chuckled, savoring the look of joy on her daughter's face.  It felt good, bringing happiness to her like that. "Can we go to Grandma's today and ride?" the girl gushed.  "Can we?  Please?" Rebecca pulled her daughter onto her lap.  "Not today, Honey.  Maybe tomorrow.  What's your hurry?" "Aw Mom!" the cub pouted, sticking her lower lip out. "Don't start that with me!" Rebecca said sternly.  "And what do we say when somebody gives us something?" "Thanks, Mommy." the cub said sheepishly. "You're welcome.  Now - go and try it on, let's see how it looks on you!"  The yellow cub dashed off to her bedroom, leaving Rebecca alone on the couch.  She couldn't deny it - it _was_ nice, being able to do something for Molly, just because she felt like it, without having to worry about the cost.  An