Chip, Dale, Gadget, Monty, Zipper and any other included
personages are (c) Walt Disney Company. You can distribute
this freely, but don't modify and don't use for the commercial
gain.
All things here is just a tribute to my graphomania. If
You wont read further, you will not loose anything and possib-
ly will save your time.
The engines were working fine, and the propellers with
the barely heard sound were cutting through the air. Dale, by
sheer luck missing the autoeject button, had at last turned in
autopilot. It pulled the plane into horizontal flight path and
kept on the set course. That done, Dale pulled out from the
pocket small and dirty piece of paper and tried to understand
what is written on it into the shadowy lights coming from the
indicator panel. Even if Gadget had bothered him to study the
flight plan and learn the test settings of her newest portable
infrared flashlight for a week, he only now had got the free
time to do that. After a minute, at last getting ok where is
the top and bottom of the map, Dale start to read it. "So...
Turn at the skyscraper. The park... Interesting, why Chip so
easily let me fly RangerWing, today it was his time... Would
he again try to hit on Gadget... aha... Turn again. And
this..." part of the paper was smeared with the machine oil.
"... Looks like the city trash place. Why make such a wide
circle? May it be that Gadget specially is sending me far
away... Hmm..." Dale placed the paper into his pocket and
sharply turned the steering. There was no reaction. Dale pul-
led up his lip and start to think. After some time he remembe-
red, but he had to spend even more time to turn the autopilot
off. After that he placed the Wing into quite less sharp vira-
ge that he had planed before, aiming toward the dying sunset.
"And why to run in circles... The shortest road is the fastest
way. Maybe I will still get home before starts the evening
horror movie?" Dale without looking hit at the panel. Sheer
luck - autopilot came on again.
Felling back into the chair, crossing legs over the stee-
ring, he sat and looked up, trying to remember, what he had to
do with the tests. "Fly over the big hill of the old tires -
three dots. Then the guard house - two dots. Or was it three
and the tires two? And then... Hmm, wondering, what is this
star?"
The night was coming into the full reign over the Earth.
There was no Moon, and only the Milky Way crossed the sky,
filling it with the milliards of stars. Eternal and never en-
ding emptiness opened its borders. Dale remembered some space
operas he had seen, and went afraid. So puny now felt all the-
ir special effects against this silent emptiness, how shallow
looked all the plots and the plights against the endless Uni-
verse... Shocked by this discovery, he only silently looked.
Even the wind and the engine sounds no more were present into
his way toward the stars.
Something hardly hit on the end of the wing, and the pla-
ne ear rolled over. Dale immediately went back to the normal
position, One kick at the pult, to turn off the autopilot, and
he looked outside. "Thank goddess!" Dale gaped, pulling stee-
ring at him. "It was too low." Plane's nose started to rise.
The light and sound of explosion reached him into same
time. RangerWing lurked, like he had hit some reef, and from
the left engine side came terrible whine, that immediately
broke off, only to be replaced with the terrible sound of so-
mething beating at something. The plane was lurching with each
beat. Dale tried to gain some high, when the steering tore
from his paws - the engine had at last stopped, and the plane
tried to roll into the way opposite the propeller. When there
was the sharp sound of some electric excharge behind, Dale's
heart was about to give up. And then there was only silence.
Seconds later, he heard how his own blood was pulsating
into the temples. Then there was slow whoooshing sound, as the
air was speeding past the plane. Taking one look at the dark
pult, Dale turned the plane into slow descend and start to
think, how far he would get from the current place. How he co-
uld forget about that stupid small bald man, the egg collec-
tor. "Unfortunately, egg loving doesn't automatically means
bird loving..." Some high building came up ahead. Dale didn't
even try to turn away - the steering was broken, and at any
unbalancing move the plane threatened to enter sharp rolling
dive. The bottom of plane stoke at the roof, and after few me-
ters of the tin-rattling it stopped. "I hope I didn't wake up
anyone." Dale jumped out of the plane and then the legs gave
in and he sat down. The legs felt like a jelly, the hands were
shaking, and his jaw was trying to impersonate a morze key in-
to the hands of drunk radio-professional. It was so funny,
that at any other time Dale would have broke into laughing,
but not now. He slowly get himself back, and, to calm down,
stretched over the still warm steel.
Stars again came into his view. Far and could, they were
shining up there, somewhere into the unimaginable distance.
Alone between their endless neighbours. "They were there befo-
re me... and will be... after..."
From somewhere came cold breeze, and Dale shivered. He
felt relaxed and so stood up to check the plane. The part of
the left propeller was gone. It was rediscovered very soon -
half-embedded into the plane fuselage near the back seats was
the missing feather. "If there were someone sitting, it would
end tragically," Dale shivered again, but this time not from
the coldness. Only now he started to feel, what may have hap-
pened. Here and there into the plastic were sitting the small
pieces of lead. Pulling them out, he was thinking about the
friends. They possibly were now sitting at the TV set, watc-
hing the evening program, talking and slowly sipping the natu-
ral coffee. Or Monty was telling one of his endless stories
about one of his past adventures. And they didn't even suspect
about what had happened with him. And he didn't even know,
where he had landed... "Well, I do, but it doesn't change the
bit, I wont get home earlier that tomorrow. And the plane…" He
placed the fingers on the still warm engine, like trying to
pass some life into the dead metal. It felt, like he was simi-
lar to this piece of broken trash...
Don't even knowing, why, Dale pushed the plane. And, to
his surprise, it started to slide down the slope. "Stop! Stop
you piece of crap!" Dale screamed and chased after it. He had
to spend much force to stop the downward movement. Placing the
brakes to ensure it wont repeat, Dale entered into deep thoug-
hts. The heroes of his comic collection had met many challen-
ges, but such a trivial one they had never met. The aliens,
the monsters, the enemy spies - please! - but to be stuck with
the dead engine in few miles form the closest base - not once.
"Maybe if I could start the engines... But why maybe?" Dale
tossed open the battery compartment. Quick look showed the gu-
ilty part - one of the wires had burned. Remembering, how Gad-
get would do it, Dale pulled off the remains of the isolation
from the both ends, crossed them... and near got first degree
burn on his paws. For a moment the lightning had blinded him,
the wire get so hot, the isolation start to melt. Yet it sta-
yed that way, and to Dales great joy, the pult again was
light-up. Relaxing for a bit, Dale got over to the engine. The
two remaining feathers still were attached to it, but refused
to move. Dale tried with the greater force, but it resulted
into new downslide. Dale went back to the cabin and start to
look under the seats. With happy cry he pulled out Gadget's
instrument pack. The fourth key at last fit to the nuts, and
the engine cover came off. Instead of the sophisticated hydra-
ulic transmission resolver, Gadget had build into it, now from
the main screw were hanging scraps of bent and mangled metal.
They were what had stopped the engine from running freely. Ar-
med with the hammer and key, Dale, smearing the leaking oil
onto every place he could, at last pulled the remains of Gad-
get's mastermind invention out of it's place. The screw now
was free to rotate - the chipmunk tested it by shortly cross-
wiring the power. "Only the hole seems too big..." Dale get a
plastic holder and tried to set it into the place of transmis-
sion. Quarter an hour later the newborn mechanical genius at
last had placed it on screw and hammered into the hole. Quick-
ly attaching back the remains of the propeller, retying - whe-
re could - the steering ropes, and rechecking the wiring, Dale
kicked the brakes out from under the plane and gave it a big
push. Into the downward run jumping in, he immediately hold
into the steering.
Crossing the end of roof, the plane immediately went into
nose-first dive, but, when it had gained some speed, the stee-
ring started to work. Dale turned on the engines. The plane
shook violently, but the left engine still worked and kept the
RangerWing from running in circles. Sure, the terrible whining
sound, the vibrations and the smell of burning plastic didn't
leave good mpression, but at least the plane hold into the
air. And the turns to the right were possible to do only to
turning to left for more that 180+ degrees, but it only spiced
up the senses. "It works, it works, it works!" Dale was sin-
ging these words to every melody he knew. Because with the
every circle, the propellers made, he was coming a bit closer
to the Headquarters.
He was flying home. He will be home.
The End
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