Chapter 15: Rats, Bats & Thieves

For a while, Chip just stared back at Gadget. Sadly. Finally, he said: “The word.... is ‘go.’” And he reached over on the desk to press the release button for Trap Door 2.

“No!” Dale called out, “You can’t!” Chip sighed in exasperation. “Dale, we’ve been through this, already. It’s the only way!” “No... no, this is crazy!” Dale protested. “Dale, please, don’t make this any worse than it has to be.” said Foxglove. “But Foxy...” Dale pleaded. “I’m sorry, Sweetie, but here’s nothing else we can do. She’s got no choice. She has to go.” said Foxy.

“NO!” Dale persisted. In the next instant, Dale leaped up and over the TV lounge sofa, bounded toward Gadget, and pushed her off the trap door!

“Gadget, no! I won’t let you!” Gadget staggered back in surprise! “DALE!” Foxy yelped!

But no, it wasn’t enough to wake Gadget up. “Must...GO!!” said Gadget, in an angry voice that wasn’t entirely her own.

With a redoubled effort, the mouse inventor raced forward, seized Dale, raised him up over her head with a strength no one could believe she had, and hurled the half-healed chipmunk across the room! Dale plowed right into Foxglove, and they both slid across the oak wood floor.

Gadget stomped a foot on Trap Door 2 and shot an ice cold look right at Chip! The Boss Ranger felt like those eyes could bore holes right through him. Quickly he turned and pushed the release button, and Gadget plunged down the trap door chute to the hangar downstairs. Before the trap door could close, Zipper flew down the chute after her, as previously ordered. As the door finally closed, a sad Chip turned to Gadget’s video phone display and pressed a button. The screen switched to a live shot (via hidden camera,) of the mailbox hangar runway platform.

Outside, the hangar door yawned open and squeakily hinged forward.. Then slowly out, on a set of small underbelly sewing spool wheels rolled the green painted bleach bottled and red ballooned Rangerbird 2. In a perfect imitation of the spectacular launch sequence of Thunderbird 2 from the Tracy Island cliff house hangar and runway, (minus the palm trees,) the bulky plane crawled out on its belly, its hinged plunger cup landing legs tucked up and over its balsa wood flapping wings. Instead, Gadget had built compressed air jets into the rear of the plane’s hull for ground maneuvering thrusters.

The machine inched along the tree limb platform between the Tinker Toy guard rails on either side, to a predesignated point. Then, at the throw of a switch from Gadget’s cockpit dashboard, the concealed oak wood section of the limb beneath them raised up at one end to form a steep launch ramp, tilting skyward at a 30-degree angle. In the cockpit, Gadget was strapped into her seat with her golf ball pilot’s helmet on, and welding goggles down over her eyes. (She never seemed to be short of a pair; kept one in each of the vehicles, as well as the workshop.) Zipper was also strapped in and ready, seated in a rodent-scale equivalent to a toddler’s booster seat, bolted down in the rear seat of the plane.

Gadget threw another switch, and a vertical block of tree wood serving as a blast shield, raised up into position behind the craft. Gadget then kicked in the twin oil funnel baking soda ramjets! BOOM-BOOM! R-R-R-R-RUMMM-BLE..... The craft shook as if struck by an earthquake. In two enormous white clouds of salty foam, the jets sprayed forth their contents, and Rangerbird 2 slid forward up the ramp and sailed into the air! Poor Zipper hung on for dear life! But Gadget’s face relaxed, and for an instant, brightened.. ”THUNDERAMA!!*” She squealed with delight!!

(Despite being under a hypnotic trance, that cry seemed to leap straight from Gadget’s heart. This was the more dramatic launch sequence she had planned on using, but had previously forgone on the submarine mission.)

Back inside, all Chip could do was watch the launch in stunned disbelief. He put his paw on the flat screen as the craft pulled away. “God’s speed, Gadget.” he managed to blurt out, but only under his breath.

Foxy recovered and helped Dale get to his feet. “Hope you’re happy, Chip!” Dale spat angrily. “Now it really IS the end of the Rescue Rangers! Maybe even the end of Gadget!” Dale yelled over his shoulder as he marched back through the archway and downstairs to the bedroom. He was sore now, but only from his trip across the floor, not from his old injuries. Jen and Tammy looked from the archway to Foxy and indicated that they would see to his care.

With that, Foxy flew over to the Command Desk, as Tammy ran over and opened the front door. “Orders, sir?” the scarlet bat saluted.

“Yes, Fox," said Chip. "Rendezvous with Ben, then both of you follow Gadget over to the museum, but stay out of sight.” “R-A-G!” Foxy nodded, and flew out the door, Tammy closing it behind her.

After another while, Chip decided to check in with Sparky. But he paused, staring for a moment at the wristcom on his arm before making the call. “Hmm... I wonder if the Tracys have a cop ancestor named ‘Dick?’”* Chip thought. That seemed plausible. The Thunderbirds Tracys did make regular use of 2-way wristcoms in a few episodes----not unlike a certain 1930's comic-strip police detective with the same last name. Chip shook off the distracting thought and clicked the com: “Base to Sparky. Come in, Sparks. How’s it comin’?”

The watch face BEEPED, then Sparky came on. “(Pant) Sparky to base...” He was breathing heavily. “ I’ve reached the missile. I’ve removed a panel and I’m inside. But, we can rule out one option already. This baby’s got solid fuel, like the booster rockets on NASA’s space shuttle. It can’t be siphoned off. And once lit, it’ll keep on burning until all the fuel is spent. It can’t be shut down.” “Oh, no...” Chip intoned. “Well, keep at it, you’ve still got two more to go.” “R-A-G!” Sparky signed off.

This was now a waiting game. A war of nerves.* And Chip was hating every second of it.


Elsewhere in the park, in a nearby tree overlooking the museum from across the street known as Central Park West, Foxy rendezvoused with Ben. “Anything?” Ben asked. “Yes, Gadget’s just been tapped by Bandung. She and Zipper are on their way right now. (Gasp) DUCK!”

WWWWHOOOSSSHHH!! No sooner had she said it, then the “thunderized” bleach bottle Ranger Plane shot past them, plumes of booster rocket baking soda foam trailing from behind.

Ben and Foxy choked and sputtered, their tree branch and themselves coated in white foam. “Ewww,” Foxy wrinkled her nose. “Lucky thing it’s only baking soda. Talk about your environmental hazard!” The two bats dropped onto all fours on the branch and shook off the foam like dogs, then flapped their wings dry before taking off after the rodent rocket plane. Despite the noise from the street traffic and the rocket plane, they were still able to hear the strains of the Barry Gray Orchestra striking up the “March of the Thunderbirds” echoing from the park behind them.


By now it was 7 PM. The unveiling was just an hour away. On the roof, two rodent security guards stood watch over the enormous round stained glass skylight of the museum rotunda. Only about three years ago, this was the site of a notorious break-in and robbery of a rare and priceless South Seas pearl tiara, known as the “Crown of Tin Can Island. *” Gadget had been positively identified by witnesses as a kidnapped hostage and unwilling accomplice to the robbery, but a horrendous mix-up and miscarriage of justice (>ahem< the details of which I must decline to go into at this time,) as well as numerous misrepresentations in the press, soon absolved the young mouse inventor of having any connection to the crime.

Suffice to say the pearl tiara was lost beyond recovery, the whole mess created quite a scandal, and over the years the entire heartbroken Tri-State area small animals’ community couldn’t apologize enough to their beloved Ranger heroine. And although things had outwardly quieted down over the years, inwardly the rodent security staff was still left feeling, well, less than secure. The museum had been breached before. So there was no reason left in their minds to think it couldn’t happen again, no matter what precautions the human staff took, or whatever extra security devices or systems they’d installed themselves.

Particular attention was now focused on the center panel of the stained glass—the previous point of entry taken by the crooks during that last caper. It was this same entry point that now stood over the display area for the South American Expedition Exhibit. It also rested directly over the spot where the Crown of Tin Can Island last stood. Now in its place stood the new prize...the still veiled Golden Thundra* statue. Naturally, this did not sit well with the rodent staff at all: Why couldn’t the human staff place the statue further back, away from the skylight? Dumb humans. A stupid and forgetful species. No wonder they needed museums to remind them of their history. Alas, they were still too thick-headed to learn from their own recent mistakes!

Hmph. And yet, were the mice themselves any better? Not once did they notice Gadget drop in and do her little Atom Cam snoop job just yesterday. But then, their being hypnotized by Bandung beforehand while Gadget was busy, might have had something to do with that. As did his telepathic instruction to her to sneak into the control room and erase all video traces of herself, before scurrying down the narrow system of drainpipes she used to gain access to the museum, and scuttling back to Bandung’s hideout.

Tonight, however, it was Snout’s turn to go scuttling through the pipes, careful not to be seen by the rodent guards. No bulky trench coat this time.. Instead the rat had on a sleek black cotton body suit cut from a human-scale black sock, and a matching pullover mask with infrared lenses. The “spider-suit,*” he liked to call it. Perfect for slinking about in the shadows. His job tonight was to get into the electronic systems room which housed the power centers for the control room’s laser beams, sensors and video cameras, and sabotage them all, right at the appointed time. Before leaving the hideout this morning to “keep an eye or two on our friends in the park,” Bandung told Snout that he would arrange a “distraction at the museum tonight.” The boss didn’t give it away, but Snout could guess it would be a good one. He crouched inside a pipe opening and waited, then pulled back one sleeve and checked the time on his rodent-scale night-glow wristwatch. 7:30 PM. A while yet to go. He grinned under the mask.


All around the South American Exhibit, and at the foot of the veiled Thundra statue, the polished marble floor was a blur of activity for last minute preparations for tonight’s exclusive presentation. This was, perhaps, the one planned event during the Thunderbird Festival that wasn’t open to the public. That would take place tomorrow morning at 10:00, during the museum’s regular visiting hours. (It was also field trip day for many area schools.) Tonight, however, was the more crucial of the two: the VIP reception.

Much of New York’s big brass, including city and world financial leaders, backers and other investors, delegates from the UN, and even the mayor and state governor had accepted their invitations to attend. Also on hand would be reporters and photographers from the Tri-State area’s top newspapers, magazines and TV networks, and only by special press pass. No amateur paparazzi of any kind. So indeed, a press disaster tonight could very well seal the museum’s fate for good.

Poor Penny was a nervous wreck, and now this close to zero hour, she was sweating bullets as she oversaw the final preparations for the party. Her voice was raw from barking orders and she found herself making frequent trips to the bathroom. She blamed it on the hot dog at lunch, and the bad chili and burritos at the museum cafeteria around suppertime. Time and again, Cody had to come over, put his strong hands on her shoulders, look her in the eye and speak softly to her, assuring her everything would be fine. That was about the only thing that seemed to calm her down and bring her back to her senses, if only briefly. “I know, I know...” she said back to him, “everything’ll be fine. But for God sakes, Cody, could you please change the music on the PA system? If I hear that stupid Raffi rain song* one more time, I think I’m ‘gonna WET myself!” He sighed, nodded, and headed for the public-address stand and console.

In keeping with the theme of the exhibit, Cody had programmed the house dual-deck CD player to play random track selections from the soundtracks to “Ferngully: the Last Rainforest” and “The Road to El Dorado.” Other decks carefully placed in strategic points behind the display played continuous loop tracks of jungle sound effects, and the calls of wild birds and other exotic animals. The vinyl mangrove forest, the plaster-of-Paris stone temple ruins, and painted Styrofoam ziggurats were all breathtaking, and gave a tropical, ancient mystical air to the display room. Indeed, it was a rather romanticized interpretation by New York City artists, of the area where Cody and his science team had gone to dig. It all paled in comparison to the real Lost Valley, but would more than suffice for the exhibit. One of the more romantic than accurate touches was the artificial volcano spewing dry-ice fog and fumes of brimstone from the back of the diorama. Cody hadn’t actually seen any volcanoes in that area of South America, and was pretty sure there weren’t any in the time being depicted here, either. Still, it gave a nice mystic touch to the overall display, and it made Penny happy. That was all that really mattered. Besides the Thundra statue, other artifacts recovered from the dig included pots, urns, warrior shields and spears, ornamental scepters, golden platters, various stone idols, temple priest ceremonial garb and other body ornaments, royal crowns and chalices, and gemstones of all kinds, shapes, sizes and cuts. A wonderland for the eyes.

Yet all this was pocket change compared to the mighty Thundra herself. Standing only 4 ½ feet tall, wings folded gently across the chest like an Egyptian mummy, the figure was perched on a 6-inch stone base, with triangular sapphire earrings dangling from either side of the head, a gold clasp around the neck, and a solid gold crown beneath a mass of head plumage as thick as a horse tail. True, it wasn’t the largest statue Cody and his team had ever found, and as far as actual bird size, she didn’t even rival that of Marahute. Nonetheless, the Thundra statue was gorgeously impressive, and seemed to possess a power all its own. Here, the natives who carved it had regarded Thundra as a great celestial bird, with powerful wings and a long rainbow tail. Her eyes were two crimson red rubies, gleaming with energy.

Legend held that this avian deity was a bird queen, who ruled over the ancient Valley of Thundra*, home to the world’s supply of rainwater. According to all the native tales of the western world, “thunderbirds” were the bringers of rain and storms to the dry, sun scorched areas of the earth. Wind and thunder was produced by the powerful beating of their wings, and searing lightning bolts were made by the rapid blinking of their angry eyes. After a storm, their long colorful rainbow tails could be seen stretched across the sky, as a promise of peace and a bountiful harvest. They were to be feared and respected, as well as marveled. And it seemed from the fruits of this expedition, Thundra was the grand-mommy of them all. The queen of her kind!

Yet legend also held she had a vicious temper, having been jilted by a lover who had deceived her and stolen a rain cloud from her valley. Hence the vexed expression on her face, and the intense fire in her fierce ruby eyes. Indeed, the American bald eagle seemed a happy-go-lucky fellow by comparison.* This was one bird who was not to be crossed.

For a time now, Cody had been feeling a slight ap-prehension about bringing this one back from the jungle. Perhaps even a little, superstitious. And few things in this world ever made Cody James Bergman take a superstitious turn. He couldn’t explain it. He’d been feeling this way since that strange dream he had one night during the trip. He had put on the music partly to alleviate the boredom of stark silence during setup, and partly, perhaps, to appease the mighty Thundra. So far, it seemed to work. No mishaps, except of the one this afternoon, and that was when the discs were skipping and had to be cleaned. He wondered if turning it off for even a short time might bring more trouble. For a few seconds he couldn’t quite bring himself to do it. Then, sighing in exasperation at his own silliness, he flicked the machine off----but not before the song that was playing ended. Not good manners to just cut off music in the middle of a song, especially if a very powerful certain someone happened to be listening.

For a few seconds, Cody froze, waiting. He hoped he hadn’t done something stupid and was about to bring the wrath of Thundra down on everyone, just for cutting off a CD. He hadn’t told Penny yet about his dread feelings regarding the statue, and for the sake of their friendship and his job, he wasn’t about to. “Great,” Cody told himself. “First I’m scared of being caught talking to mice, and now I’m cowering before statues. I’ll be Bellevue-bound yet!” He pulled out a Sergio Mendes CD from the small cabinet under the deck, and left it sitting up top. Just in case.


15 minutes to go. The VIPs were due to arrive by limousine at precisely 8 PM. Outside, the invited press hounds were armed and ready behind the ropes lining the red carpet at the museum’s main entrance. The human guards lined the front door, with at least two posted at every other entrance and exit around the entire building. No one was getting in or out prematurely tonight.

Inside, things were getting down to the wire. Penny had come back from the bathroom for the fifth time, and still the caterers hadn’t finished setting up the table. AAAGH! She felt like throwing a tantrum like old Madame Medusa! Instead, she leaned on Cody one more time for support. “(Sigh) Oh, God, help me get through tonight!” she moaned.

Just then she noticed something. All the other artifacts had been put into vacuum-sealed glass display cases and moved into place. But the Golden Thundra statue stood free, without a case, veiled by only a white opaque linen sheet!

“CODY!!!!” she spoke through gritted teeth and turned sharply around. “Why isn’t the Thundra statue in a protective case? I gave strict orders for everything to be encased and ready BY 8:00 SHARP!”

At this, Cody began to sweat. Penny glowered. Now he had two wraths to fear!

“Accident.” he said. “This afternoon. It fell over and the glass broke. We cleaned it up. We’ve got extra panes in the back storage room, but it would have taken too long today.”

Penny’s eyes blazed like fire.

“Look, I promise, after the unveiling tonight, we’ll work ‘round the clock to get it ready for opening tomorrrow.” Cody blanched, but kept his cool.

Penny drilled a sharp finger into his chest.

“You’d better. Or I’ll give you an extra pain in the back you WON'T FORGET!” With that, Penny stormed off to bully the caterers.

Cody gulped, and considered going to the bathroom to see if he hadn’t wet HIM-self. But before doing so, he went back to the PA stand and started up the Sergio Mendes CD. Just for good measure.



At last, 8:00 came. The limos pulled up right on time. Flash bulbs flickered as the VIPs quickly waved, made brief statements to reporters, then hurried up the steps, the guards holding the door open. The invited press were the last ones allowed in, but in the shuffle, no one noticed a tiny black-clad fly with photo-goggles slip in through the door.

From the park across the street, the last act was announced and the concert crowd roared, as the Fabulous Thunderbirds took to the stage and struck up. Elsewhere, vendors were packing up and tents were coming down. The military tent was shutting down, too, but it would be a while yet before the static displays were hauled away.

Sparky was still plugging away feverishly inside the missile. He checked in again with Chip. “Go ahead, Sparks,*” said Chip back at the Ranger Tree. “(Sigh) Doesn’t look good. I’ve tried diffusing the warhead, but there are too many failsafes and redundancies. Even with my best effort, I couldn't... it would take days to bypass. As for sabotaging the launcher, that’s out, too. It would ground the missile, but it wouldn’t stop it from exploding. Hmm... but I think there’s a FOURTH option here, and I’m ‘gonna go ahead and try that. Over!”

“What? No, WAIT!” Chip squealed. Too late again. Sparky had already signed off. “He didn’t even say what it was.” Chip sighed.

In the TV lounge, Tammy and the others were having TV dinners and watching live coverage of the last concert, with periodic news cut-ins of the VIP party at the museum. Dale was still mad at Chip and had retired early to the double bunk bedroom. Chip hunched in thought at the Command Desk. He’d barely touched his dinner tray. Then he froze. Time to check in with the littlest Ranger. He pressed the call button for Zipper’s link. “Rangerbird 2 from base. Come in, Zipper.” he said in a hushed voice.

On the museum roof, Rangerbird 2 stood on its hinged plunger cup landing legs, parked near the rotunda and skylight. Gadget sat rigid in the pilot’s seat and said nothing, her eyes still spiraling. The rodent guards saw her, but showed no concern. They’d been told by their chief that the Rangers would be joining them at 7 PM to help tighten the watch over the unveiling party. His source was an alleged email from Ranger HQ and a phone call from someone who sounded like Chip. But at the time, Chip was busy overseeing the Rangerbird 1 mission to the military tent.

Then who could have sent the two messages? Elsewhere in the museum, Snout coughed slightly in his little drainpipe hiding spot. It was a high-pitched cough, as though he’d taken a hit on some helium.

Right now, perched high on a wall near the party, Zipper focused the Mini-Atom on the scene below. Back at the tree, Sparky had also shown Zipper that the Mini-Atom had a built-in mic and earpiece for communication. At Chip’s command, Zipper began CLICK-ing pictures to base. He buzzed quietly in response.

“Okay, Zip, they’re coming through now.” said Chip, watching the black & white display on Zipper’s phone screen. He saw the VIPs all seated at the banquet table. Din-ner had been served quickly, and the smells were making Zipper’s mouth water. “Okay, now, keep clicking, but try to come down lower, and get in a little closer.”

Zipper was puzzled. How was he going to do that? He could hover down, yes, but get in closer? He had no idea what kind of lasers or sensors were on around the room, if they were on.

Taking a chance, he took a slow hover plunge straight down, CLICK-ing more frames as he dropped. Chip saw the change in position and waited for more. Zipper recalled the “Pit of Peril” episode from the Thunderbirds DVD. Now he was doing the same job as the Thunderbird 1 Hover Cam! He smiled.

BRRRRINGGGG! An alarm bell sounded!

Zipper stopped smiling and dove for the shadows!

A human guard lifted a hand radio to his mouth: “Re-set!”

The alarm stopped. Everyone froze at the sound of the alarm. When it stopped, the guard said: “False alarm. Must have been a fly. Sorry.”

Everyone relaxed and went back to their business. They were told to expect this. This happened now and then during a press-covered catered event. In the museum mouse holes, the rodent guards chuck-led. They remembered one of the Rangers was a housefly and just laughed it off.

Zipper sighed in relief, then began inching his way toward the table in short wing-hops. Getting in there, he soon saw, was neither hard nor easy. With flashbulbs popping, TV cameras pointing all around, and reporters shoving in microphones trying to get a word in edgewise, there were plenty of distractions to cover him, yet one false move could squash him flat!

He saw a flower bouquet at table center and dove in fast for cover. He allowed no time for anyone to take a swat at him. There he CLICK-CLICK-CLICK-ed some more, making a 360-degree panorama around the table and relaying it back to base. Zipper wasn’t turning that fast, but already he was cooing and getting dizzy from the delicious food smells all around him. “(Ahem) Zip! Remember, you’re on a mission?” Chip reminded him. Zipper straightened up and continued his relay.

“There’s Zipper!” Tammy pointed at the big screen. A network TV camera mounted on a tripod at the far end of the table had a long shot of all the VIPs enjoying their dinner, with a tiny quick-moving black spot perched on the centerpiece bouquet.

At the Command Desk, Chip could see from the photos the veiled Thundra statue stood high at the center of the exhibit. A podium covered with news mics was placed directly in front. Two more tripod TV Cams stood on either side. It was almost like a DC White House state dinner and press conference.

With the meal concluded around 8:30, it was time for the opening speeches. Cody faded out the CD music, and Penny approached the podium first. She began by thanking one and all for coming out tonight. Zipper yawned and slowed down his clicks, while back at base, Chip slumped back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the desk. This was the boring part.


Outside the museum, the sun had set and the stars were coming out. Ben and Foxglove were circling the building at a distance, veering off now and then to catch and eat a few passing bugs. They had to widen their circle and keep a sharp eye out when Zipper was making his entrance to avoid eating him by mistake. Also now and then they landed on a certain museum window sill to rest their wings and catch their breaths. They chose it because it had a clear view of a wall clock inside, to keep track of time. But always they kept their distance from Rangerbird 2 and the roof guards.

“(Pant, pant, pant) I don’t get it,” Ben said during a rest stop, “it’s been an hour and a half already, and nothing’s happened.”

“(Pant, pant,) Well...” Foxy offered, “these dinners, I think, take about half hour. Then there’s about 15 minutes of long-winded speeches. The unveiling will probably take place around 8:45.” “(Pant,) The sooner, the better,” said Ben, “I’m startin’ to get dizzy.” He shook his head briskly.

“Something else I don’t get.” he continued. “We’ve had all day to spot Bandung and Snout, and we haven’t seen either one. (Pant) Yet from all you’ve been tellin’ me about what’s happened today, they’ve been gettin’ around and makin’ trouble anyway. Why is that?”

Still breathing hard, Foxy thought a moment.

“Bandung must know how to use his hypnosis as a cloaking device, too, rendering himself and Snout virtually invisible to passers by.” “Like in the old ‘Shadow*’ radio series? ‘The clouded mind sees nothing?*’” said Ben. “Right,” said Foxy, “and even our sonars were useless. Too many other people and animals in the park today. He just blended into the crowds, without a trace.” “Hmph. So he’s radar invisible, too. Great.” Ben rolled his eyes in defeat. Getting up once more, they checked the clock again. 8:44. “Almost time!” said Foxy, and the two bats fluttered off again, circling around to the roof.


They landed some feet away, keeping low but trying not to look like they were crawling on their bellies. The guards could mistake them for burglars that way. Too bad there wasn’t a roosting flock of birds for them to blend into. They did spy some sort of flock circling high above, but they were too far away to make out. They shrugged it off.

Inside, Zipper was keeping count of the speakers: First Penny, then Cody, then the UN House Speaker, the governor, and now the mayor. Finally, it looked like they were all lining up at the foot of the statue. Two guards moved into position on either side, evidently preparing to remove the veil. Zipper snapped to attention and CLICK-ed rapidly. He was a real shutterbug now!

Back at base, the TV picture cut back to the unveiling. Monty, Jenny and Tammy were all on the edge of their seats. Chip sat up at his console. “Here it comes, guys!!” said Tammy. “SHEESH, not so loud, Luv.” A sober purple Monty flinched and held an ice pack to his throbbing hungover head. ” “This is it,” Chip whispered.

At the CD deck, Cody played a drum roll track. The guards drew off the veil, revealing the lustrous Golden Thundra statue in all her glory!! Cameras clicked, flashbulbs popped, the TV cameras zoomed in tight, as Cody switched the track to John Williams “Liberty Fanfare.” (Cody always had a flare for theatrics ,ever since his days in NYU drama.)


At that same instant, however, Snout made his move. He darted out of his hiding place and scooted into the systems room. He tore through panels, yanked wires, bit cords, and pulled plugs all over the room!

Sparks flew and control lights flickered! The exhibit floor was plunged into darkness! Everyone gasped and screamed!


Outside, Ben and Foxy noticed the guards turn their heads and rush towards the skylight to see what was happening. Noticing the lights were out, they broke out and clicked on their penlight torches and shone them down, trying to see into the darkness.

At that moment, Gadget jumped out of the rocket plane and darted forward. Moving at the speed
of a cheetah, she dropped and kicked, knocking the guards down and karate-chopped and punched them unconscious! Then she pulled the sidearm from her hip holster. It was armed with a flare dart. She pointed the gun straight up and fired, SSS-PAFF!! sending a tiny brilliant red fireball high into the air!

Ben and Foxy raised their heads in disbelief! Then they noticed the flock in the sky change direction. They were turning and heading toward the flare.

Then the flock dove straight down and plummeted toward the museum roof! It was then to Ben and Foxy’s horror that they saw what the flock was: It was the TROOPER BATS!!

SCREECH-SQUEAK-SQUEAK-SQUEAK- FLAP-FLAP-FLAP-BEAT-BEAT-BEAT-FLAP!!!

In a cloud of fur and flapping wings, they plunged straight down towards the skylight!

SMAAAAAASSSSHH!!

In an explosion of stained glass, the trooper bats smashed through the rotunda window!

Zipper looked straight up, still CLICK-ing the Mini-Atom, and saw a cloud of bats and shards of glass, coming down right on top of him! AAAUUUGGH!!!

It was a sight out of Zipper’s worst nightmare.




(* - References to CDRR episodes 'Good Times, Bat Times' 1990
'Adventures in Squirrelsitting' 1989
'One Upsman Chip' 1989
'Does Pavlov Ring a Bell' 1989
Aladdin episode 'Fowl Weather' 1994
Universal’s 'The Shadow' movie 1994
Walt Disney’s 'Fun & Fancy Free' 1947
'The Rescuers' 1977 & 'Rescuers Down Under' 1990
Chester Gould’s 'Dick Tracy' comic strips (circa 1930)
& Walter Gibson’s 'The Shadow' radio series (circa 1940)
Marvel Comics’ 'Spider-Man' (circa 1962)
Gerry Anderson’s 'Thunderbirds' 1965
& 'Captain Scarlet and the Mysterons' 1967
TB episode 'Pit of Peril' 1965
Warner Brothers 'Contact' 1997
John Williams’ "Liberty Fanfare" 1986
Raffi’s “Raining like Magic” 1992
Dreamworks’ 'The Road to El Dorado' 2000
Music of Sergio Mendes (circa 1960's)
20th Century Fox’s 'Ferngully: the Last Rainforest' 1992
Universal’s 'Thunderbirds' movie 2004
and Rangerfile fanfics
'Deception, Mutilation, & the Inevitable Ex' by Rosey Collins 1999
& 'Gadget in Chains' by Loneheart 2006


Coming soon: RANGERBIRDS ARE GO! Chapter 16