A Talespin fanfic by Lizzy Spencer (KarmaCat) Page 16

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������� Fifteen minutes later Shere Kahn opened his eyes, not knowing where he was or what had happened. All he saw was the ribbed white ceiling of the plane and the steady hum of the engine. He shut his eyes and the opened them slowly.
������� Rolling his head to the left, his eyes fell upon Sarabi lying near him, breathing steadily but unconscious. What had just occurred came racing back to him. Sarabi was accounted for, he saw, but what of-
������� "Orly?" he asked into the air. His voice sounded creaky. As he lifted his face from the floor of the plane some blood trailed along with it. The taste of it sickened him. He hadn't tasted blood in his mouth since he was a teenager, sixteen, the one time he had gotten into a fight-
������� He rose from the floor, stroking his hand over Sarabi's hair, coughing.
������� "Orly?"
������� -in a fight over a girl-
������� He got to his feet, knees popping.
������� -some nameless girl he had forgotten about-
������� Shere walked slowly over to the cockpit, his head screaming.
������� -boarding school- what hell THAT had been-
������� Once in the cockpit, he nudged Grier with his foot. The pilot didn't move and Shere couldn't tell if he was still alive. He couldn't even see straight. It was as if the thrust of the weapon that woman had hit him with had knocked one of his eyes out of line. He was seeing double.
������� He grasped dizzily for the radio and held it to his mouth. There was blood in his throat and he could barely speak. He pressed the small black button on the receiver and spoke into it, voice shattering. "If anyone is listening," he said, "this is Shere Khan. We are near..," he paused, looking out the window for any scenery that might help pilots to find him. "Near the Mungunga Islands...we've been attacked by pirates. We are in need of assistance, medical and otherwise...one of my daughters is injured and the other...the other appears to have been kidnapped...I'm injured...they took my daughter. I...." his voice faded off and away. He felt his consciousness slipping away once more. "Come quickly,'" he breathed before dropping the receiver.
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������� Baloo sipped at an orange soda pop, his feet upon the dashboard of a plane. It was not the Sea Duck, however. This was the Green Girl Ballistic, Kit's plane. It was the same model as the Sea Duck, only a much newer version. He sat in the rather comfortable co-pilot's seat. The Green Girl shone like Neptune at twilight and had an engine like the purr of a newborn kitten.
������� But currently, neither Kit nor Baloo were paying attention to that melodious hum. They were both staring, riveted, at the transceiver on the dashboard.
������� Baloo's jaw hung open. "Was that Khan?" he asked.
������� "Yeah. I think so."
������� "Sounds like he got the stuffing beaten out of him."
������� "Attacked by pirates. As if the guy hasn't been through enough, what with Sarabi and all. I almost feel sorry for him," Kit replied, handing Baloo a map. "Find the Mugunga Islands, would you?"
������� "Sure Lil' Britches, sure."� He opened the map and traced a line with his thick finger. "Turn around. Due east. You know, that's funny. Karnage may be a pain, but I don't think I've ever seen him really knock anybody's roof in. Not directly.� Not as bad as Khan sounded."
������� Kit shook his head, turning the plane in a graceful arc. "You've been spending too much time on the ground with Louie, Papa Bear. Pirates have gotten a lot more savage these days. They developed new airborne tactics. Apparently they got some new members-"
������� Baloo laughed. "Women, I heard. Guys at Louie's talkin' about some gorgeous lady Karnage has with 'im now."
������� "Yeah, there were a few women. And they seem to have taught them a thing or two. That's why I had the G.G.B. triple walled. Harder to get off the ground, yeah, but I don't have to worry about bullets."
������� "Hmm. They're probably the pirate equivalents of Beckers. That's why they're so high strung now, I bet. Heh." He downed the last of his soda and threw the bottle into a trash container that folded out of the wall. "C'mon, Lil' Britches. Let's go get Old Stripes. Maybe he'll repay� me with a list of requests like he did the last time I saved his hide."
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������� "I'll take her....off auto-pilot....he waking up?"
������� Shere heard this as he awoke, looking up into a friendly gray face, a paw gently rapping against his cheek.
������� "Hi there, Khannie," the bear said conversationally. "So, how's your day been so far?"
������� "I've had better," Shere replied groggily, looking into the face and identifying it surprisingly quick. "Ah, Mr. Baloo. The years have been good to you."
������� The bear regarded the tiger with pity in his eyes, pity that Shere would have found insulting be it any other situation than this. "Apparently the pirates weren't the same to you," Baloo said. Shere caught a glimpse of himself in a shining piece of metal. The entire left side of his face was a swollen pink mass. He was having trouble seeing because his eye was swelled shut.
������� "Sarabi? Orly?" he asked urgently.
������� "Sarabi's still out like a light. Put her on the couch, she's gonna be fine. Your other daughter's...not here."
������� "They took her," Shere stated, removing himself from it in order to keep his wits about him, pushing that terror down. "The pirates."
������� A younger bear was in the pilot's seat, shaking his head. "This wasn't the work of pirates. They may be savage, but not this savage. They don't maim."
������� Shere pulled himself up unsteadily. "Indeed it was pirates. Karnage."
������� "HE did that to you?" Kit asked in disbelief.
������� Shere shook his head. "No. It didn't seem as if they intended any harm ay first...but one of them hit me across the face with something. There was some struggle.... my memory fails me after that. But that's not the matter at hand. I presume my daughter is aboard the Iron Vulture. We have to find it."
������� Kit took charge. "This plane's almost out of gas. She'll be going down soon. You two, get Sarabi and Mr. Pilot in the corner there and take 'em on the Green Girl. I'll put this one down nice and soft on the water, and Baloo, come down and get me."
������� Baloo nodded and picked up the injured pilot in the corner.
������� "The Vulture should be southwest of here...we'll find it." Kit checked a few dials on the dashboard. "We''ll get her back somehow. Besides, I think you've almost lost your fair share of daughters."
������� Shere's only reply was a smooth "You'll be amply rewarded, Mr. Cloudkicker. Amply," but Kit could detect the obvious gratitude in the tiger's voice as he stepped into the cabin to collect his slumbering eldest.
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������� Sarabi was in a white limbo.
������� "Here again? What happened?" she asked.
������� There was no answer.
������� "Where are your hands? The hands I felt?"
������� "You no longer need our hands," the voice replied. "You have your own."
������� And all at once, Sarabi remembered....
������� and understood.
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������� Orly awoke in a dry, dark room that reeked of rusted iron. A loud but steady wum-wum-wum of power filled her ears. She sat up. The back of her neck was reeling in pain - that bear -� that yellow one - had hit her with something and knocked her out, and put her...where? Where was she?
������� She pressed down fear. Well. A talent acquired from her father.
������� It was way too dim to see anything, but there was one source of light: a square cut out of the door covered by a cage of bars. Orly went over to it and peeked out, grasping one of the bars and pulling herself up. There she saw the metallic guts of an aircraft, and she realized all at once that she must be inside their ship, the Iron Vulture. And right outside was a large guard, and rather imposing grizzly bear pirate with a dumb, non expressive look on his face. Orly ducked underneath the bars, not wanting him to know she was awake.
������� Far off she heard a voice, that of, she was surprised to hear, a little girl. "Putnam," the girl called. "Hey Putts, c'mere for a second?"
������� "Um, I was told to guard the prisoner, Cosette."
������� "Well, what's she doing in there?"
������� "She sleeping."
������� "Then what's the big deal? You can do a favor for me real fast, cant'cha? It would make my mom and the captain real happy if you did."
������� Putnam scratched his big head. "It would?"
������� "Um, yeah. It would. I lost my dagger. Could you find it for me?"
������� "Okay, but who guard girl?"
������� "I'll find somebody. Now go on, Putts, off with you."
������� "Okay," Putnam lumbered off, scratching his belly.
������� Orly heard the girl approach the cell door and knock lightly. "Hello?" she asked. She had a sweet little voice. She couldn't have been any older than nine or ten. "You're not really sleeping in there, are you?"
������� Orly hesitated, unsure.
������� "Come on," the girl coaxed. "I just want to talk for a minute."
������� Orly swallowed. "About what?" she whispered. The whisper echoed through the cell like a fluttering dove.
������� "Come up to the bars so I can see you."
������� She did, and saw that the girl who was speaking to her was a little black fox who bore a resemblance to the woman named LaRoca. She was pretty. The girl was standing on a chair, peering into the cell so she could see Orly.
������� "Hi. I'm Cosette," she said.
������� "Orly," she replied.
������� "So YOU'RE the reason my mother was so angry at Arson," she mused to herself.
������� Orly rubbed the aching spot on her neck. "What do you mean? She's the one who knocked me out, right?"
������� "Yeah. That's Arson." Cosette looked sad for a moment. "You have to understand that they didn't want this to happen. It's just Arson. She lost it somewhere down the road. Does things without thinking about the, um, what's the word...oh yeah, tactical advantages of it. All my mother was looking for was some jade statue, but Arson has something against your dad." She was well spoken for such a small child.
������� "What?"
������� "I don't know."
������� "Well, if you guys didn't want this to happen, why don't you let me go?" Orly snapped.
������� "What would be the point of that? Now that they have you, they're going to ransom you off. Your daddy has more money than God. Duh. You have a lot to learn about being a pirate." The fox laughed to herself. "Nah, you're not a pirate. You're a princess."
������� Orly was silent for a moment, and then started laughing. "For crying out loud, I get enough of that from kids at home. Now," her eyes began to tear from laughter, "now you're...this little pirate kid, doing it too!"� Orly began to laugh hysterically, like this was the funniest thing she had ever heard. Unbeknownst to her, she was laughing away repressed stress and fear. A talent acquired from her late mother.
������� Cosette's eyebrows raised. "It wasn't that funny. Geez."
������� "Oh, just about anything would be funny right now." Orly leaned against the door, chest heaving.
������� Cosette's face fixed in a thoughtful purse. "You know, we're both princesses, kind of. Just of different kingdoms."
������� Orly wiped her mouth. "You're Karnage's kid?"
������� "No. LaRoca's. Karnage isn't� my daddy." The statement was made with an odd undertone, a sort of regret fullness that Orly didn't understand and couldn't take the time to. The girl behind the bars moved, looking left to right, and Orly heard a jangle.
In a swift motion, Cosette threw a key ring with three keys on it between the bars. It tinkled to the floor. "Here. It's the big one in the middle," she whispered.
������� Orly picked it up. "Won't you get in trouble?"
������� "Only if I get caught. And I won't." She began to leave.
������� "Why - why are you doing this?"
������� " I don't want Arson to know where you are," she replied quietly. "And I don't like blood. Lord only knows what she might do to get back at your father. I think she's out for more than money when it comes to him."
������� Orly took a breath. "She's...THAT far gone?"
������� "I'm not sure. But I don't want to take any risks, especially since you had nothing to do with this whole thing. But hurry," she said. "Your father will probably come to get you soon, so stay out of sight until then. Go!" she exclaimed, and ran off into the bowels of the craft before Orly could even thank her.
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������� Shere cradled Sarabi's head in his large hands.
������� "She won't awaken," he said to Baloo.
������� The gray bear folded a towel and put it underneath her head. "She'll be okay, I think. What'd she get, a pistol-whipping?"
������� Shere flinched. Baloo had never seen the man actually flinch before.
������� "Guess so," Baloo replied. "Hey Kit, you got any water on this jalopy?"
������� "In back, Papa Bear. You know where it is."
������� "Oh yeah," the bear laughed gently to himself. " I do, don't I?" In actuality, Baloo had no real idea of what he was doing for the injured girl. He was acting purely out of instinct. But, he had found over the years, his instincts were subtly improving with age. More than a few people had remarked about the caring aura that surrounded him in his "old age" (a term that made the forty-eight-year-old Baloo snicker) and that he had a fantastic bedside manner...all the time. He had become irreparably round and kind in his more grounded days. More than one young person called him "Papa Bear" now;� almost all the young pilots that stopped by Louie's had adopted it as well. In fact, he doubted if most of them even knew his real name. He was just Papa Bear, once the best pilot the world over, and now co-owner of Louie's and, apparently, a really great guy.
������� Baloo just shrugged it off as he soaked a washcloth for Sarabi's forehead. He didn't know what the heck they were all talking about anyway. Friendly people were friendly people, was all.
������� He gently lay the washcloth over Sarabi's forehead. "You're daughter's real beautiful, Khannie. Looks like you."
������� The tiger's only reply was, "When will she wake?"
������� "Can't be sure. Could be hours, could be days."
������� "I don't want to lose her again," Shere said quietly.
������� "What?"
������� "Nothing."
������� "I've got the Vulture in my sights," Kit called from the cockpit. "You guys might wanna be strapping yourselves in back there. It might be a bumpy ride. Pirates don't usually take to kindly to unexpected visitors."
������� "We're not unexpected. They'll let us on board with no event," Shere said.
������� "What'd ya mean?"
������� "We're going right where they want us, Mr. Cloudkicker. When they took my daughter, they said that she'd be worth� more to me than anything else."
������� "Yeah, and?" Kit inquired.
������� "Simply put, she is," Shere replied.
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������� Arson playfully swung her flame-thrower as she sauntered toward the cell where the rat's begotten was. Boy, she had gotten quite a few slaps from LaRoca about that little thing on the plane. Arson laughed to herself. "Guess I got a bit carried away," she snickered.
������� Darn that LaRoca. Thinkin' she owned the whole world.
������� She loaded a clip of gasoline into the flame-thrower.
������� Oh well. She'd show then someday. She'd show all these idiots someday.
������� Arson whistled as if she were calling a dog. "Hey sweetie," she sang. "Come on up to the bars. I'll be your best friend."
������� She leaned against the cell door and felt it snap shut, and she realized that it had been open. "You in there?" she asked, puzzled. There was no answer.
�������� Arson didn't know how, but the kid had gotten out and was loose in the ship.
������� She grinned as she snapped the clip. So it was gonna be hunt, was it?
������� "Sauce for the goose," she hissed.
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