"Don't panic. It's just an idea to have you fly the ship while we hibernate," said Grandma. The Red Fox shook his head. "I don't like this idea at all." "Don't worry. We'll work out something." Nonetheless, long after the Red Fox had been shown his room on the second deck, and had moved on to check out the kitchen, he remained worried. He finished cleaning the drawers, cabinets, and counter of his new workplace and went off to talk to Django. Cleaning the refrigerator could wait. All of the bears were on the first deck. Rollo was sitting in the pilot's seat, eating peanuts and staring out the window at the stars. Grandma was off to one side working at a computer console, and Skylark was sitting on the floor scratching his head and staring at a small pile of computer chips in front of him. Django was lying on a couch reading a fishing magazine. 
"Hello," he said, looking up at the Red Fox. "What can I do for you?""We need to talk," said the fox. "Do you like to fish?" "No. Grandma told me that you're all going to hibernate in two months and that I'm going to have to look after the ship." "We thought that would be nice. Don't you like the idea?" "I don't know the first thing about flying a spaceship," the Red Fox exclaimed. "Look, we could teach you everything you'd need to know. And you could wake us up if there were any sort of emergency." The Red Fox looked doubtful. Django continued. "We've got it all planned out so that we won't stop at any planets while we're hibernating. At that point we'll be passing through regions of space that we've already visited. All you would have to do would be to check the computer every day and correct any change in our flight path. It's just a matter of pushing a few buttons." The Red Fox looked doubtful. "Of course there would be a few other things," Django went on. "You'd have to check the air and heat controls every day. And we'd want you to monitor the computer radio mail system in case anyone tried to contact us. Look, Grandma and I will start showing you a few things. You'll find that it's a lot easier than it looks." 
A few minutes later the Red Fox was sitting at a computer console. The seat and the keyboard were bear sized. The Red Fox had to sit on a pillow to make his paws reach the keys easily."The first thing to do," Django began, "is to display our flight path." He clicked on several icons and the screen displayed two dots with a curved line in between. "Now if I click here and here, you can see where the Bearscout is on our flight path." He clicked again and a flashing blip appeared along the line. "Now the trick is to make sure that the dot representing the Bearscout doesn't get too far off the curve." Django pushed a key which erased the screen. "Now you try it." "Uh, where were you clicking?" "Get a pen and paper and you can write this down." The Red Fox disappeared for a few moments and then returned with a blue notebook and a pen. "Okay," said Django, "First you click here..." They spent the rest of the time going over how to display flight information, the Red Fox taking notes the whole time. After that the Red Fox went off to make lunch, which was going to be quiche and spinach salad. The bears loved it, as well as the ice cream and cookies for dessert. After cleaning up, which took nearly an hour, the Red Fox was back up on the first deck with his blue notebook and pen. "We'll start with radio mail messages," Grandma explained as they sat down at a console. "There won't be any since I checked just a few minutes ago. But you click here to look." The Red Fox dutifully clicked at the mailbox icon on the lower portion of the screen. The message menu, which had been black, displayed: 1 message 13:57:34 Galactic Standard Time The Red Fox and Grandma looked at each other. "Click on it," she said. A new message displayed. To any ship in this sector. Help! Our ship, the Mistral, is marooned around the uninhabited planet J59. We are running low on air and food. In fact, all we have left to eat are broccoli and cookies. Help! Francois, Gaston, and Pepin Grandma was a stubborn teacher. When they altered their course ten minutes later towards the planet J59, she insisted that the Red Fox make the course change. "What about the crew of the Mistral?" the Red Fox exclaimed. "Doesn't every second count? Shouldn't you be doing this?" "It will take you about thirty seconds longer to set in the course change than it would take me," Grandma replied. We'll rescue them; never fear. Thirty second's difference isn't going to kill them. Now click here, move to the planet column, and double click on planet J59." "Congratulations," Grandma beamed after the Red Fox had done this. "You've done your first bit of professional navigation, setting in the course for a rescue mission." The Red Fox smiled politely and wrote down everything he had just done in his blue notebook. "I would like to know just who it is we're rescuing," said Django, from where he, Skylark, and Rollo stood behind Grandma and the Red Fox. The Red Fox clicked as Grandma directed until he came to the Ship Database and entered Mistral. "No ship listed under that name. Please check your spelling," the computer displayed. The Red Fox tried again with the same result. "Which means we're going to rescue an unknown ship," said Django. "Could be... pirates," said Skylark. "Could be... a trap." "Maybe they stole the ship and changed its name," Grandma suggested. "Or maybe, they're explorers from a distant planet, like you, whose ship isn't listed in your computer database," the Red Fox suggested. The bears looked at him. "That's possible..." Skylark admitted. "Let's see if they'll tell use who they are," said Django. He motioned the Red Fox aside and sat down at the terminal himself. He clicked on the icon for computer radio mail messages and began sending one. To Francois, Gaston, and Pepin of The Mistral, We have received your distress call and are now headed toward the planet J59. We should be there in about thirty-six hours. Please advise us what species you are, whether your ship is repairable, and of any other important details. Django of the Bearscout "It would be nice if we heard from them before too long," Django said. They waited. They looked at the clock. They waited. "Maybe I should start a soup for dinner," the Red Fox said doubtfully. None of the bears said anything. The Red Fox walked over to the ladder and began descending when he heard Django shout. "We've got a reply!" The Red Fox rushed back up to the computer terminal where the bears were staring wordlessly at the message on the screen. Do you have any cats on board? Grandma looked at Django. He shrugged and typed in a response. The crew of the Bearscout consists of four bears and one fox. They waited for a reply. They looked at the clock. The Red Fox wondered if making a salad would take less time than making soup. This time the reply was swifter in coming. Greetings Bearscout! We are three mice from the planet Dorval. We still have enough air for two days, but we are down to our last cookie. Help! Our ship is intact, but our fuel was drained by pirates. Can you tow us to a nearby planet? "I've never heard of the planet Dorval; have you?" Grandma asked Skylark. "The name sounds familiar, but I can't place it. It sort of reminds me..." he replied. "I have a Dorvalian cookbook, the Red Fox burst in. "Mostly cheese dishes." The bears looked at him. "Helpful..." Skylark ventured. "Maybe I'd better go start the soup," said the Red Fox. "If only I know more about towing spaceships," said Django. Rollo was beginning to explain what it would require to tow a spaceship, so the Red Fox returned to the kitchen to start the squash soup for dinner, but only after getting out his Dorvalian cookbook and looking at it. It wasn't much help. There was a one paragraph preface by one Winona Sledge, who stated that the recipes were as delicious as Dorval was beautiful, but no other information. The soup was highly praised at dinner, along with the bread, cheese, and dessert, but the chief topic of conversation was the marooned Mistral. "What would you expect of three mice?" "I don't know; some of those mice really know how to live." "I wonder who the pirates were?" The Red Fox asked if they'd resolved the business of towing a spaceship, and Rollo explained that as long as its mass was only one quarter that of the Bearscout's, everything would be fine. "What if it's not?" "Don't be silly. How big a spaceship do three mice need?" "Maybe there were hundreds of them and these three are the last survivors." Everyone hummed and looked anxious at that. "I see I've still got a few questions to ask our stranded rodents," Django said "Don't call them rodents," Rollo replied. "Mice get insulted when you refer to them as rodents." The evening passed with more messages passing between the two ships. The specific dimensions of the rescue mission began to take shape. "They've eaten their last cookie... getting weak," Skylark told the Red Fox. They were in the kitchen where the Red Fox was cleaning cupboards. The Red Fox knew what was coming next. "Food..." Skylark suggested. The Red Fox nodded. "Perhaps something soft, that would be easy for a weak body to digest?" he inquired. Skylark looked embarrassed. "More specific... They've made a request. Clam linguini... I think we have clams on board." "Yes, I saw some in the freezer." The Red Fox paused. "I guess that would be good for half-starved mice." Skylark beamed. The Red Fox scratched his plans for catfish stew for the next day's meal. If the crew of the Mistral was going to dine on linguini, so could the crew of the Bearscout. Clam linguini was certainly easy enough to fix. 
The next morning, after a short and fitful night's sleep and a hurried breakfast, the Red Fox went down to the freezer on the fourth deck to get the clams. He was surprised to see Skylark off to one side working at a sewing machine. "What are you working on?" the fox asked. The grizzly bear gave a start. "Oh, nothing much... drapes... making some drapes for my room." The Red Fox walked over to the sewing machine. The material was heavy and silver, and was shaped more like a suit of some sort than drapes. "Isn't that kind of heavy for drapes?" "Perhaps.. When I hibernate... I want to have something heavy over my windows when I hibernate." "Oh." Drapes seemed an unlikely explanation, but Skylark seemed to be in an odd sort of mood, so the Red Fox left him and went over to get the clams out of the freezer By dinner time the Bearscout was within radio range of the Mistral. Instead of relying on typed computer messages, they could now actually talk to the mice. The Red Fox was finishing the dinner clean-up and packaging some of the clam linguini for the Mistral's crew when Grandma came down to see him. "Django and Skylark want to talk to you," she said. "I expect that will be about the relief package for the mice," he replied. Grandma smiled but didn't say anything. The Red Fox looked at her suspiciously but followed without a word. Django and Skylark looked grave. "An important task..." Skylark muttered. "You'll... fine." The Red Fox felt his paws go just a bit sweaty. What were they getting at? Django explained. "It would be nice if this weren't necessary. But it is. We need to get the crew of the Mistral from their ship over to the Bearscout. But there's a complication. Their airlock is triangular." The Red Fox stared at him. "Circles... Ours are circles," Skylark added. "Which means we can't dock using the airlocks," Django continued. "And the crew of the Mistral are too weak right now to attempt to cross over to the Bearscout on their own. This means that one of us has to go over there." The Red Fox felt his heart beating faster. "But the problem," Django went one, "Is that they're mice and we're bears. Their airlock is much smaller than ours, and there's only one of us who can fit through it." The Red Fox looked around. There were all staring at him, Django, Skylark, Grandma, and Rollo too. He heard his stomach start to gurgle. "It would be nice if you wanted to do this," Django said. "Of course, no one is forcing you. There's no serious danger involved, and three small lives are riding on it, but we wouldn't want to pressure you into something you don't feel right about." "What would it involve?" the Red Fox asked weakly. "It's fairly simple," Django answered. "Skylark has already altered on of the spacesuits for you." The Red Fox now understood Skylark's 'drapes.' "Basically, we tether you to our ship," Django went on, "And you use a rocket pack to fly over to their ship. You take the food inside, feed the mice, help them into their spacesuits, and then help them back to the Bearscout. You'll also have to put a program on their computer so we can tow their ship to a nearby planet." The Red Fox closed his eyes for a moment. He knew that being in a spacesuit and floating in zero gravity would make him dizzy and sick. He knew that there were probably all sorts of dangers and potential problems that Django wasn't mentioning. "I'll do it," he answered reluctantly. The Red Fox tried the spacesuit on. The arms were too long, so Skylark altered it again. The shoes were still too big, but they found that if the Red Fox put on four pairs of socks, the shoes didn't flop around too much. 
The clam linguini had to be packed. The Red Fox debated whether to mix the clams, white sauce, and linguini noodles before packaging the whole concoction or to wait to mix them together after he got to the Mistral. He decided to mix the ingredients before packaging them. That way the only thing he would have to do would be to throw the packages in a microwave when he got to the Mistral. The thought occurred to him that the Mistral might not have a microwave oven or that the power would be out. "They can just eat lukewarm clam linguini," the Red Fox thought to himself grimly. He poured the linguini into airtight plastic pouches that he would carry with him to the marooned spaceship.In addition, Grandma gave him a computer disk to take to the ship. "Just put it in a disk drive and type TOWING," she told him. "That will allow us to tow their ship by computer control. "Their airlock is shaped differently than ours," said the fox. "What if their computer takes different sized disks?" "Then things will be a lot more complicated, won't they?" Grandma replied glumly. The Red Fox didn't ask her any more questions. A short time later they entered orbit around planet J59. The Red Fox took the computer disk and plastic pouches of linguini down to the fourth deck. Skylark was waiting for him inside the airlock. "Suit's altered... ready to go," he said. Skylark helped the Red Fox into his suit. "Your air supply... here. The rocket packet... over here. Two ropes attached to the rungs on the wall... two ropes attached to you. When I put your helmet on, flick the radio switch." Skylark slipped the helmet over the fox's head. The Red Fox clicked the switch that turned on the radio. "Can you hear me?" Skylark's voice boomed into the helmet. "Yes, but could you talk a bit softer?" the Red Fox replied. "Sorry... Hang on." Skylark gave a last look around, and then left the airlock, sealing the inner door behind him. A red light went on, and the Red Fox could hear the air being pumped out of the airlock. He was now standing in a vacuum. "Hang on... gravity... off." Suddenly the floor, walls, and ceiling were floating in an odd sort of way. It was a bit like being at the bottom of a swimming pool and slowly floating up. The Red Fox felt a bit dizzy, but it was not as bad as he had expected. "Doing...okay?" Skylark asked. "Okay so far." "Good... When the outer door opens, aim the jet pack towards the inner door... Push the red button lightly. When you're outside... point yourself toward the flashing green light on their ship... their airlock." The outer door slid open. The Red Fox aimed the rocket pack at the inner door and pushed the red button lightly. It felt as if he was perfectly still and the interior of the airlock was gradually floating past him. The black hole where the outer door had been gradually got larger and larger and suddenly the Red Fox was outside. 
Stars were everywhere, shining brighter than they ever had through the spaceship windows, or in a nighttime sky. The Red Fox felt as if he could reach out and touch one of them with his paws. Ahead of him and looking like a large silver football was the spaceship Mistral. Behind it loomed the purple ammonia clouds of the planet J59. The Red Fox felt a sudden and intense surge of emotion. Years later he would try to find the right words to describe the moment, but he never quite would, and his listeners would smile politely and wonder what he was trying to get at.The Red Fox looked over his shoulder at the Bearscout, which from this angle looked like the bottom of some giant plate. He turned back towards the Mistral, saw the blinking green light above the airlock and again pressed the red button on the rocket pack. The Mistral seemed to grow larger and larger while the Red Fox stayed perfectly still. He knew that this was an illusion, but it was a compelling one nevertheless. He found that he was moving a little to the left of the Mistral's airlock. He jiggled himself a little bit to the right, which seemed to straighten him up. In another few seconds he was there. The opening was small, but he grabbed one edge and climbed inside. The journey had taken perhaps twenty seconds, though it seemed much longer. "Congratulations." It was Skylark's voice over the radio. "Attach yourself to the safety line inside the airlock... tether the two ropes to holds outside the airlock." The Red Fox did as he was told so that the two ropes were attached outside the airlock for the return journey, while he was attached to a rope inside the airlock so he wouldn't float away. "Ah Mr. Fox," said a new voice over the radio. "We're so glad you're here. Did you bring the clam linguini?" "Yes, I've got some frozen pouches in a bag here." "Splendid. Now hold on; I'm going to close the outer door and turn on the gravity. Then we'll re-pressurize the airlock with air. Don't take off your helmet until I've opened the inner door." The Red Fox couldn't have taken off his helmet within the confines of the airlock if he had tried. He hoped the rest of their ship would have larger rooms than this. As the gravity was slowly turned on, he felt as if he was hollow and he was having his insides slowly poured back into him. Even through his helmet he could hear the sound of air rushing into the chamber. The lights grew brighter, the inner door opened, and a small furry head smiled at him and motioned him inside. The Red Fox had entered at one end of the ship. He could see all the way down to the other end where the controls were. The whole interior of the ship was one large elegant room. The carpet was a plush red. The light switches and door knobs were brass. The computer consoles were encased in fine oak wood. On a raised platform in the middle of the room was a glass table, with table settings for four. And in front of him were the three mice. The Red Fox had expected to find them thin and gray looking. They did look a trifle pinched, to be sure, but their eyes sparkled and they were dressed in matching blue uniforms, with brass buttons and gold braid on the jackets. 
The Red Fox fumbled a bit taking off his helmet before he could say "hello.""Welcome to the Mistral," said one. "I am Francois, and these are my comrades Gaston and Pepin. Excuse our haste, but we are most famished. Could Gaston put the clam linguini in the microwave now?" The Red Fox handed the food pouches to Gaston. The mouse carried them over towards the kitchen on the far side of the ship. "How did you get marooned here?" the fox asked Francois and Pepin. "The Cyber-Wolf did it," Francois replied. "He is a pirate," Pepin explained. "He needed fuel. We had it. He had big guns so we couldn't stop him. He siphoned our fuel." "He was very polite about it though," said Francois. "He offered to take us with him, but we couldn't abandon our ship. And he did give us some very fine sausages." Just then the microwave beeped and Gaston motioned them towards the table. "It's always an honor to dine with the chef. You will join us, won't you Mr. Fox, won't you?" Francois asked. And that was how the Red Fox came to have his second meal of the evening, only this time on board the Mistral with Francois, Gaston, and Pepin An hour and a half later, back in the Bearscout, Grandma and Skylark gathered around Django and the radio on the first deck. "Pepin is running the computer towing program," Django called out. Grandma, sitting at a computer console several yards away, studied the screen intently. "Ok. The code has gone through. The next time we move, the Mistral moves with us. "It would be nice if they all got back safely," Django said nervously. "Why shouldn't they?" Skylark asked. "No reason," said Django. "Just as long as all the air seals are tight, and the lines hold, and the rocket pack works allright, and they punch in the right computer codes to work their airlock." "Look, they're crossing back now," Grandma shouted from the window. They all went to the window where they could see four figures emerge from the Mistral's airlock. There was a long pause while lines were hitched and unhitched and the outer airlock door was closed. There was a brief shot of flame from the Red Fox's rocket pack, and the four figures, tethered together, drifted towards the Bearscout, and out of the bears' line of sight. "I want to see this." "Me too." "So do I." Down on the fourth deck, Rollo was working the airlock controls from a computer console next to the airlock's inner door. "The outer door is closed and gravity is back on," he told the others. "Re-pressurized in thirty seconds." Thirty seconds later, the green light went on, the inner door opened, and a fox and three mice in spacesuits trooped in. They took off their helmets and the Red Fox introduced Francois, Gaston, and Pepin. "We are most grateful for your saving our lives, our ship, and our mission," declared Francois. "Your mission?" Django asked. "Our mission," the mouse replied, "is to explore the galaxy and collect recipes for the scholars of Dorval. And we have a very important date to collect recipes on the planet Calypso next week. Do you think you could tow our ship there?" "We should be able to manage that," said Django. And they did. |
