Old Tiger by Dianne Elliott

Disclaimer:  In this cross universe tale I borrowed and embellished the
major characters from both Jonny Quest: The Real Adventures, and Fantastic
Voyage.  Now Hanna Barbara owns Jonny Quest, Jessie Bannon, Hadji Singh,
Doctor Benton Quest, and Race Bannon.  Filmation Studios created the
Fantastic Voyage cartoon series in 1968, which in turn was based on the
1966 movie Fantastic Voyage.  It is the old ABC cartoon series, that Guru,
Miss Erika Lane, Commander Jonathan Kidd, and Busby Birdwell hail from. As
I said eariler, I do not own any of these characters, nor am I making any
money from this story.
 
	The afternoon sun harshly beat down on his shirtless back, as the
drowsy, humid heat hushed every living creature in the King Hanuman's
tropical kingdom.  Wearily, the searcher sank onto the churned mud, that
once accommodated a jungle pool.  Puffing out, he dragged his limp hair
out of his eyes, attempting to shove it back under his soggy turban.
"Where are you Tiger?" he mused to himself, staring up at the unwinking
sun.
	A distant moaning aonnnh! answered.  Slowly, the hunter rouse from
the mud, scanning the still, tender dry underbrush.  Not a dry pod cracked
in the drought breeze.  Not a sound, save his pounding heart shattered the
encloaking silence.
	He could not see, smell or hear the Tiger, but he could feel the
being's weighty presence.  He turned at his waist, restudying every thorny
branch and frozen bud, for any sign of the creature's passing.  Forcing
his gaze back into the mud, he gasped, wondering how did he overlook such
an obvious sign.  Amid the random ridges and depressions, of scores of
different animal tracks, he finally made out the distinctive heavy four
toed print of Master Tiger-Eyes.
	The breeze sudden shifted, blowing against the hunter's face. 
	Massive jaws fleshly clicked behind him, freezing him in the mud. 
He could almost feel the Master's ponderous breathing, but not hear it.
'So, young Majesty, are you the Hunter?,' his telepathy wrapped around the
seeker's mind, with a tiger's guttle purr.  'Or is it I, Hadji Singh?'
	Hadji began to force himself around, to met those glinting, wise
and dangerous eyes.  "HADJ!!!"  Jonny Quest's irritated shout shattered
all sense, evaporating the magical jungle in a puff of wavering heat haze.
	Finding himself back in the computer center, Hadji found his
closest friend glaring down at him.  "You were meditating again, weren't
you Hadji?" the girl's voice from the VR couch diverted his attention from
Jonny's azure glower.
	"Yes my friends," Hadji quickly apologized, as he clamored
gracefully onto his bare feet. 
	"That makes it the third time this week, that you've gone off
line, and it's only Tuesday!" Jonny charged worriedly. 
	"Yes, yes, I am sorry," Hadji somberly amended, reaching for the
QuestWorld control boards, realizing that the game had overloaded and
crashed the system.  Worse, the library subsystem light was blinking. 
That meant that Doctor Quest was also working on the main frame when it
went down.  "Now where were you?" 
	"Hadji, is there something wrong?" Jessie seriously inquired. 
"Headache?  You've been acting strange since you left Bangalore." 
	Jessie was correct, the odd visions had begun, when he started to
seriously research his mother's Brahmin family. Hadji narrowed his eyes in
thought, should he tell them of his visions?  Chasing a Master Tiger Eyes
through a jungle that did not exist in their world.  Or as the mage put
it, was it he who was on the hunt?  "I ---" the word caught in his throat,
as the intercom clicked on.  "Hadji, Jonny and Jessie, would you mind
coming up to the library?" 
	It would have been impossible for the outsider to read anything in
Doctor Quest's mild tempered voice, but the teenagers eyes widened, as
they exchanged glances.  "Uh-oh," Jonny swallowed.  "Looks like we're in
for it, this time, Hadj." 
	"Trouble comes in more dangerous colors and moods, my friend,"
Hadji breathed. 
	"What's that supposed to mean?" Jessie charged falling in behind
them. 

	The bay window opened on a white sand beach, framed by ancient
palm trees, far different from the craggy coast, evergreen and paper
breech trees that surrounded the Quest Maine Compound.  Zen had destroyed
their New England home, in an attempt to crush the Quest family.  Now, the
world travelers had settled back in their old haunts in the Florida Keys,
where the memories hung the heaviest.  Hadji could only guess why Doctor
Quest and Jonny would only reluctantly discuss their past lives in
Florida.  His own memories were pleasant and sunny. 
	Strolling past the loaded shelves, Hadji thankfully noted that
several more important scientific titles had been replaced, but some of
the other objects such as the New Guinea frowning native mask and the
Fifth Dynasty Flying Horse could never be.  Just like in Ridgeport, the
computer desk, with its embedded touch controls, screens and three
dimensional projectors stood magnificently before the bay window.  Doctor
Quest stood over an odd fellow, as he hunched over the controls like an
intensely busy gnome over his work. 
	"Jonny," Race pushed himself away from the coral fireplace. 
"Jessie, Hadji, this is Professor Birdwell.  He's one of your father's old
teachers..." 
	The Professor rudely snorted, glaring hard over his coke bottom
bifocals at the former Company Man.  "He's just not one of my teachers,"
Doctor Quest quickly amended.  "Dean Birdwell was my master's thesis
advisor." 
	"As if I had a choice?  Mister Quest's undergraduate work was in
Archeology, with a certain pretty Miss Starseer.  After a coupla years in
the Peace Corps, he decides to become an engineer. So, I enrolled Quest
into all of the remedial courses, but your father was next to impossible
to keep in class," Birdwell turned in his seat to address his enlarged
audience.  Doctor Quest winced, rolling his eyes to the ceiling, wondering
what his advisor would say next.  "He was always in my engineering lab,
pestering my own graduate assistants!" 
	Race discreetly snorted into his palm.  "Dad?" Jonny whispered. 
	Birdwell mischievously narrowed his honey brown eyes, looking like
a pleased Elton John look a like in an academic tweed suit. Granted, he
had a more prominent chin, less sandy hair and about thirty pounds more
than the popular sixties performer.  Folding his pudgy fingers beneath
that chin, he continued undaunted.  "So much time in my lab in fact, he
lost his barkeeping job." 
	"Doctor Quest?" Jess slowly shook her head no, not believing her
hero could be reduced to tending bar. 
	"Professor please," Quest rolled up on his toes.  "That was over
twenty years ago!" 
	Birdwell sagely chuckled.  "If I hadn't made that greenhorn my lab
assistant, he would've poisoned half of the teaching staff at the
university." 
	"What?!" Jonny sputtered.  "Your old man approached the fine art
of drink mixin' like a chemist.  His Manhattans were the worse!" 
	"Professor," Quest playfully warned.  "I happen to know, that I
make a very good Manhattan!" 
	"Prove it!" Birdwell mockingly challenged. 
	"All right," Benton Quest rolled up his sleeves.  "Now," he
paused, his gaze flittering about the full shelves.  "Where did that drink
recipe book go?" 
	"You gave it to Mrs. Evens," Race studied his fingernails.  "To
burn it, remember Doc?  After that champagne punch you concocted ---" 
	"That was champagne punch?" Jessie batted her emerald eyes
innocently. 
	"It tasted like Cool Aide, with too much sugar---" Jonny made a
face. 
	"For you three, it was Cool Aide," Quest replied coolly.  "Well, I
was rushed in the kitchen --- so the drinks got a little mixed up." 
	"Yeah, Doc," Race intoned.  "Grape flavored bubbly." 
	Birdwell snorted into a belly laugh, banging his hand on the
computer top. 
 "Cool Aide?  Benton, you couldn't --- mix?" 
	"Now Professor Birdwell," he mildly defended. 
	"Sorry," he smerked, his face crimson.  "I mean, Cool Aide?!" 
	"The heart more often than not dictates what the mouth says,"
Hadji sagely injected between Birdwell's subsiding gaffaws.  "Yet it is
the heart also speaks more truely." 
	Birdwell did not give Doctor Quest's ward any attention, until he
spoke.  For a spiteful moment, he glared at the adolescent through his
glasses, paled and then violently startled, as he spun back to the
computer desk.  "Good grief son," he tightly wheezed. "You just scared ten
years off me!" 
	"Professor," Doctor Quest worriedly clasped his hunched shoulders,
then hooking his sensitive fingertips against Birdwell's faltering carotid
artery. 
	"This doesn't look --- " Benton Quest gave Hadji a curt bob of
yes.  "Jess, Jonny, why don't you get my bag and equipment." 
	"I'm fine, Ben," Birdwell ruefully snapped before slipping a
nitroglycerin pill under his tongue.  "I just need some water to get this
bitter taste out!" 
	Race swallowed and left, knowing should Birdwell go into full
cardiac arrest, Doctor Quest and Hadji could handle pulmonary
resisatation.  Meanwhile, this Compound's heart monitor was an
outrageously outdated and heavy model. 
	"I'm fine Benton," Birdwell muttered, sinking hopelessly onto his
hands. 
	"Maybe you should sit up, sir," Hadji suggested gently.  "So you
can breath more---" 
	"Get you hands off of me SWAMI!" Birdwell barked with such force,
Hadji's automatically hands flew off of him, the shock stinging like a
smart blow.  "Sorry kid," Birdwell wearily groaned, pushing back on the
chair, while tugging on his bow tie.  "I'm not useta --- not used to bein'
haunted --- like dis." he choked on a tear.  "Ghost." 

	Hadji glumly leaned against the gleaming hospital wall, confused
and torn over what happened.  Birdwell was in conflict, scared out of his
mind over his presence and yet so hopeful then hurt to discover that ---
he was not the man.  "Hadj," Jessie eased up behind, trying to press a
cold can of pop into his limp hand.  "Hey, chill a little.  Doctor Quest
told us that Professor Birdwell has a heart condition." 
	"She's right Hadj," Jonny tried to add.  "It isn't you --- it's
him." 
	"There, you are wrong my friends," Hadji moaned.  "I was the one,
who ---" 
	'No, young Majesty,' Hadji wheeled to where he sensed the
presence.  His eyes grew wide and glassy, as he stared directly into
Master Tiger-Eyes.  In the middle of the bustling hospital corridor, the
Tiger sat, taller than most men stood.  'Busby --- my old friend saw, then
cried out for me.'
	"But ---" 
	'The bonds of friendship can be felt both ways beyond the wall of
Death.  That I realized too late.' The great beast mournfully bowed his
head.  'But I refuse to allow my love for the Little One to take him from
his life.  So---' The entity stood and leisurely stretched, his paws going
through Hadji's feet, while a gurney whispered through the great cat's
lanky middle, and a nurse stepped on his yards long tail, all without
knowing that he was there.  'For your task, Majesty, you are to take care
of my ailing friend Busby, while I leave you for a time.'
	"Master'?" Hadji raised his hand as the Tiger turned, flicked his
tail and began to merge through the stairwell door.  'Only when Busby and
you are prepared, shall I return.'
	"Hadj?" Jonny poked him between the shoulders.  "Who are you
looking at?" 
	"Master Taamecei," he answered automatically, as the startled
nurse he pointed to scurried away. 
	"Huh?" Jessie quizzed.  "You better sit down before they bring out
a white jacket for you!" 

	"Boss, we've tracked down the Professor to the Key West General
Hospital,"  the Italian suited thug reported. 
	"And?" the sharply defended twentysomething crime boss impatiently
prompted. 
	"According to our sources, he had a minor heart attack.  They
should release him in a coupla days." 
	"So nab him in the parkin'lot." 
	"And run into Bannon, no way boss!  Birdwell's some old school
chum of Doctor Quest." 
	"Look, I'm paying you top dollar to gather the crew!" 
	"But not nearly enough to take on Bannon, Boss." 
	"Get outta my sight Sharky!" the Boss dangerously sneered.  "I
don't pay bonuses for failures like you!" 
	Sharky cringed, and gulped, "Yes boss."  Then he rapidly ran out
of the darkened office. 
	Another figure emerged from the swallowing shadows.  "Sir, is it
wise to pursue your father's last wish?  I mean, this is murder one!" 
	"Of some ancient geezers, the government forgot years ago!" 
	"Sir, Professor Birdwell is a dean at ---" 
	"Spare me the sob stories, shyster!  We already have nabbed two of
'em in Alaska, a doctor and a bush pilot an' nobody came after 'em!  My
boys found Birdwell, it's just that we can't find the fourth one!" 
	"Sir, according to family records, Guru mysteriously died over
thirty years ago!" 
	"Father wants the team, and there were four on that team!" 
	"Sir, you're as crazy as your father!" 
	"Yeah, and you better watch yer back, Shyster!" 

	"So---" Jessie began slowly, not really wanting to delve into
this.  Since she was scientifically trained, mystical concepts unnerved
her slightly.  "You've been seeing this huge tiger, during your
meditations." 
	"Yes, Jessie," Hadji sighed, still uncomfortable with his decision
about telling them about this private matter.  "But this Tiger is an
ancient Yogin Master ---" 
	"And you believe that the Tiger is you?" Jonny poised, with a
confident air.  "But again, not you?" 
	"Yes ---" 
	"Knock, knock," a familiar Brooklyn voice sang out.  "Guess who's
back from the brink?" 
	"Professor Birdwell," Hadji warmly greeted, from behind the
computer controls. 
	"And boy, do Doctor Quest an' I have some news!" 
	"I'm donating a main frame and QuestWorld software to my old alma
mater,"  Quest proudly beamed.  "And I got my professor to thank for
bending my ear so much." 
	"I bet it still smarts, Dad." Jonny commented to a couple of sour
glares. 
	"Man, think of the simulation research you could do!" Jessie
beamed with an envious grin. 
	"Not to mention campus wide Questworld tournaments!" Jonny
gleefully added. 
	"Now wait a minute!" the Professor squawked.  "This Quest system
is *not* a gaming playin' machine!  It's just a research tool, pure n'
simple!" 
	"Then you'll never get your graduate students out of the lab,"
Jonny injected, with a knowing glint. 
	"Don't care, as long as their papers are ready for committee, on
time,"  Birdwell muttered, signaling Hadji from his other two friends. 
"Now Doctor Quest tells me you know your way around the system better then
he does..." 
	"Well --- I ---" 
	"Don't be so shy, Hadji," Jessie leaned on him, grinning
hopefully.  "He's done a lot of the security programming.  In fact, Jonny
and I've done programming on Questworld." 
	"Oh no!  Oh no I say!" Birdwell threw up his hands.  "I know where
this is going young lady, and the answer's no!" 
	"Why not Professor?" Quest quietly poised, his beard partly hiding
a tight smile, for secretly he agreed with his old teacher.  "It would be
a good experience for Jonny and Jessie to tag along." 
	"'Cause, I refuse to be responsible for a fourteen year old, a
fifteen year old and a sixteen year old, let loose on campus!  Good grief
Benton, I'm the arts and sciences dean, and I gotta set an example!  But
for that sixteen year old, who'll be college bound in a coupla years,"
dropping an arm across the taller teen's shoulders, he herded Hadji away,
guiding him outside the computer room door.  "I think it's a *fantastic*
idea." 
	"But sir ---" Hadji began, but he could never finish.  The fast
talking Professor would not allow him to. 

	To the young Sultan of Bangalore, it felt strange to be traveling
with someone other than the Quest family.  Even odder still was to be
flying first class, with a dean who had a reputation of chatting with the
flight crew during preflight checks.  After a stern reminder that he could
be expelled at the captain's discretion, Birdwell sulked back to his seat. 
Then fell loudly asleep, as the young yogi quietly slipped into a
meditative trance, hunting for the mysterious Master Tiger-Eyes.  The
mysterious mage did not show himself. 
	"Kid," a business man complained, with a hard poke into his arm. 
"Would'ja put a sock in that guy's trap?  He's snoring loud enough to wake
the dead back in third ---" 
	His flabby jaw dropped, as Hadji swung around, glowering.  "My
friend, I shall not, for the Little One is still recovering from a heart
attack!" 
	"Jeez, *sir*," the fellow fearfully blinked, cringing back.  "I
didn't know that!  Look, I'll move back into second class, okay?" 
	"Huh?" Hadji uncoupled his seat beat.  "Sir, that isn't necessary! 
I mean ---" 
	A loud snort announced the Professor's awakening.  "Hadji, what's
up?  Have we landed?" 
	"No Professor!" Hadji tried to smile, at the business man pawed
through the overhead bin.  "Now sir ---" 
	"No, no don't trouble yourselves," grabbing his laptop and suit
bag, he hustled through the curtains. 
	"What did I say?" Hadji sighed, with mild confusion, as he sank
back into his reclining seat. 
	"Looks like you gave him the whammy," Birdwell committed with a
shrug. 
	"The whammy?" 
	"You know, the Evil Eye, but its not as strong." 
	"No sir, I still do not understand.  Why should I give him
anything, since he suggested that I stuff a sock in your mouth!" 
	Birdwell snickered, "Don't think about it, Swami.  He had it
coming!" 
	"Eh, Professor Birdwell," Hadji began shyly.  "I would rather not
have you call me Swami." 
	He rolled his eyes.  "Don't tell me that's not PC!" 
	"Well ---" Hadji uncomfortably shifted, mulling over his words. 
He did not wish to admit that the moniker gave his emotions an odd tug. 
"I can be your Swami, if only you wish to study yogin under me.  Then you
must realize that there are others who are more practiced in the art, than
I." 
	Birdwell just kept in a loud laugh, under a piercing squeak of
amusement.  "An old friend of mine once said, 'A good Guru must constantly
learn new things,' or something like that.  He usta always said stuff like
that all the time." 
	"Who was he?" 
	Birdwell's mouth tightened, as he flashed pale.  "Why, uh, Mister
Spock!" 
	"Okay," Hadji uncomfortably eased his shoulders back into the posh
seat, deciding not to pursue the matter.  He also did not mention that the
moniker tugged oddly on his emotions, but he did not understand why. 

	The rest of the flight in, went without farther incident, until
the professor and his East Indian charge went to the baggage carousal. 
"This is the part I hate about flying," Birdwell crabbed.  "Waiting to see
whether or not your stuff made it, or it's off somewhere else having a
better time than you are!" 
	Hadji stifled a timid laugh, as the first pieces of the flight's
luggage began to appear from under the flaps.  He felt a chill.  Sliding
his gaze to his left, he saw it was the gentleman he spooked out of first
class.  As Hadji began to turn to apologize, a sharp glint between his
thumb and index finger flashed, flying straight for Birdwell's neck.  His
hands flew faster, grabbing the other man's wrists, Hadji checked, and
threw the business man over the shorter professor, onto the carousal.  The
suspicious syringe the attacker held tumbled between the conveyer belt and
the mechanism, where the plastic barrel was crushed between the gears. 
	"Huh?" Birdwell blinked, as Hadji pushed himself protectively in
front of him.  "What's goin' on?" 
	The business man paled, and shrank back from the posturing Sultan. 
"Leave me alone!" he panically shrieked, bolting from among the luggage,
straight into an airport security officer. 

	"Your little escapade at the airport cost us," the boss
dangerously hissed. 
	"How was I to know that th' computer nerd could do throw me like
that!" 
	"Race Bannon taught that Hadji kid ---" 
	"Jeez, Boss, not everything.  Not that creepy stare of his!  It
was like fire shootin' out of those eyes!" 
	"You don't say," he sounded suspiciously pleased.  "Tell me more
about Hadji's 'stare'?" 
	"Well, back on the plane, when I complained to the kid about
Birdwell's snoring, he turns around and says something high handed like
--- er, 'I shall not, for the Little One is sick.' Then he give me the
look, like he could reach in and pull my soul out through my nose.  It was
really creepy man!" 
	"You don't say, Jackie.  Why don't you go down to the bar and pour
you a coupla strong ones and celebrate." 
	"Huh?" 
	"Just do it." 
	"Yes, sir!" he practically ran out of the office. 
	"Celebrate sir?" 
	"Yes shyster," he pulled his elegant fingers up to his thin lips. 
"We've got the team, with a minor substitution." 
	"Hadji Singh?  Sir, you must be joking!" 
	"I'm not.  We need the full set.  Besides, the old man won't know
the difference.  Don't tell me you object?" 
	"Yes I do!" the thin man circled round to the front of the desk. 
"First off, Hadji Singh is a minor!  Secondly, he is Quest's legal ward. 
Thirdly, the young man is a hereditary leader of one of those Indian
states.  Kill him, you'll be burned thirteen different ways to Sunday!  No
family secret is worth all of that, not murdering a child!" 
	"Had you had your say, Mister Collins?" 
	"Yes, I have sir.  If you persist in this mad execution of these
innocent people, I shall have no choice but to remove my firm from ---
your deep pockets!" 
	"Oh, come now," the boss's eyes glinted evilly.  "Let me show you
the family secret."  A palm sized box was pulled from a jacket's pocket. 
At first glance, it looked like one of the older trimline shavers, only
there was three nozzles where the microfine screens should be. 
	"A phaser?" Collins smirked nervously as he realized those tiny
tubes were pointing at his chest. 
	"It is a weapon," the boss purred proudly.  "Quite unlike anything
ever before developed.  Not quite a phaser, Mister Collins, but it works
just as fast.  And if you know how to use it, it doesn't leave a trace of
evidence for the FBI to find.  Tell me, Mister Collins, are you familiar
with Doctor Who?" 
	"No ---"  The hard light slammed through him, dragging him
downward.  Collins blindly screamed against the tumble.  Just as suddenly,
the light evaporated, but he was still blind.  The tile floor felt oddly
pitted under his trembling hands.  "Wha?"  He never finished his thought,
as his life was crushed out of his body, as a thunderous peal of laughter
smothered his senses. 

	The following days, were filled with bursts of loud yelling out of
Dean Birdwell, which settled little over the confusion over setting up the
new computer equipment.  The professor was an exacting taskmaster,
expecting the best out of everyone.  Hadji quietly followed behind the
extra workman as they carted in the crates, unpacking them, testing, then
running the power and communication cables, correcting mistakes. 
Meditation proved an escape from all of the noise. 
	Late at night, the young Sultan often wished that the Professor
would break down and call for Doctor Quest.  Hadji would have welcomed the
help, as well as the companionship.  When he finally powered up the entire
system, from the control panels to the VR visors and couches, Hadji did
feel a surge of pride. 
	Then he fell into the task into installing QuestWorld, a far more
convoluted task than merely transferring information and testing.  "Hey,"
a friendly back hand to the shoulder broke Hadji's concentration away from
the barrier sub-set.  "You'd said you'd wait until tomorrow morning!" 
	Turning in the swivel chair, he found Professor Birdwell with his
hands deep in his pockets, pouting like a child. 
	Hadji chuckled at the sight, as he began to put the partially
installed QuestWorld program to sleep.  "You are right, Professor!  I had
forgotten!  Sorry!" 
	"It's all right Hadji," he playfully shrugged.  "Man, it's been
years since I felt this way," walking to the center of the room, he threw
his arms wide.  "I know it looks like a programmer's dream computer room,
complete with beds!  Not much really, but I'm finally impressed with
technology!  And it was put up in record time too!  The University Prez
has got to be astonished!  You see he wasn't really charmed over Doctor
Quest's little gift." 
	"Oh?" 
	"Oh, once you become a student, you'll understand why.  No Quest
money is going into the Lit department, campus paper or worse into the
dorms!" 
	"But in a few years QuestWorld can be hooked up to every
computer---" 
	"You haven't eaten dorm food yet, have ya Hadj?" 
	"No ---" 
	"One day, you'll see," Birdwell wistfully informed him, hooking
his arm around Hadji's shoulders.  "Ya know kid, there's one more
impressive piece in here.  One that has worked hard for over a week, on
vending machine salads and meditation breaks." 
	Hadji swallowed, shifting uneasily.  "I really ---" 
	"Yeah, yeah," Birdwell made a face.  "I think you're ready." 
	"For what?" 
	"College, Kid. An' I ain't talkin' about you comin' in as a lowly
freshman either, who has to spend his valuable time flippin' burgers." 
	"But---" 
	"I'm talkin' Advanced Studies, with a full stripend for your
computer skills!  Graduate level coarses, well, maybe after your first
year.  That'll all depend on your test scores and projects, but I know you
can do it!  Hey you set this place up, in a two weeks, where anyone else
would've taken a quarter, if the school was lucky!" 
	"I --- I don't know," Hadji knew eventually he would go to
college, but like most adolescents, it was a far away dream. 
	"I know you've got family obligations both to the Quests and to
Bangalore, but think about yourself for once, Hadji.  If not that, think
about what your education could do for them!" 
	Hadji raised his eyebrows, very interested.  Birdwell tightly
nodded his head yes.  "I see th' wheels turnin' under that turban.  You're
tempted, I can tell!" With a pally slap, he added, "Let's talk this over
dinner.  There's this new Thai restaurant in town, they say it's the
hottest!" 
	"You don't say Professor," Hadji secretly smiled, having much
experience with Thai food.  Granted, it was not his mother's curry laced
cooking, but Thai was his second favorite.  Then an odd warning cloud
passed over him.  Hadji dismissed it with the nagging wonder if the
Professor should avoid eating such spicy food. 
	"Yeah, they've got a jazz combo playin' there tonight, which I
know is good!  An' stop worryin' like a mother hen, Hadji.  I'll keep away
from the really hot stuff!" 
	The professor and his student had to pause just outside the
engineering building, as Birdwell turned to lock up.  'Yes,' Hadji drank
in the slightly chilly breeze, as the hardwood leaves rustled all about. 
'This is the place, I shall ---'
	"You'd think that by developin' em back in the sixties I'd get the
hang of it by now!" Birdwell complained. "Over thirty years, and I still
can't get these silly security cards to work---" 
	A huge shadow fell over him, grabbing and dragging him into the
bushes before Hadji snap out of his daydream.  "Professor?" he tensed for
a fight. 
 The bushes to the right exploded with a soft grunt and furious shaking. 
Turning, a dart buried itself in his Hadji. 
	He tried to shake off the drug's fast effect.  Hadji took a step,
prepared to leap into the fray, then collapsed on the walk.  A face swum
weakly before his failing sight.  It was the crank from the plane.  His
cruel features blurred out, being replaced by a scouring tiger's glinting
gaze. 

	"...Erika, I really don't like this," a savage whisper, echoed
into the pit.  "They've nabbed Busby, and this boy cinches it!" 
	Hadji concentrated on the voice, for more than an anchor with the
waking world.  He knew the speaker, innately, like he would know Jonny,
yet a name did not match the deep timber.  "Oooooh," finally his eyes
unsealed themselves.  "Where ---?" 
	"Take it easy son," the man gently held him from the bed by the
arms.  "Bring your knees up to your chin," an older woman instructed,
stirring even half memories.  "And breath deep and slow." 
	"Yes, mame," Hadji replied.  "But Professor Birdwell?" 
	"Is still sleeping it off, sir," Hadji slowly lifted his head, for
he had to see this man.  Slowly his firm jawed face cleared, into a
disapproving glare, from the right hazel eye.  The left was patched.  A
broad band of white circled his once brown hair, as age stooped his board
shoulders, yet added little fat to his muscular frame.  Hadji struggled
with the name, for he was so naggingly familiar.  Finally, he found a
photo, buried deep.  "C-Ccomander K-Kidd?" 
	He shot an astonished glance, to the matronly lady across the bed. 
"Unless Busby told him about ---?" 
	"How do you know my name? And rank, young man?" Kidd pressured. 
	"I don't know sir," Hadji shied back, not quiet believing this
himself.  The name not only fit, but threatened to crack open memories,
that were impossibly old.  "Let's try something?" her smile was framed in
cherry red gloss, as she sat beside him.  "Okay, who am I?" 
	Hadji stared at her for a moment, taking in her youthful snowy
bob, shimmering blue eyes and lined heart shaped face.  For a moment, he
struggled, as the musty memories churned, but could not be opened.  She
was another friend, from the same dim time as Commander Kidd.  But who? 
He was nearly driven to tears.  "Erika --- Miss?" 
	She eagerly bobbed her head yes, giving him a grandmothery hug. 
"But it's Mrs. Kidd, now.  Miss Lane." 
	"Erika," Kidd sighed, "He must've overheard me as he woke up, if
Busby hadn't broke his oath!" 
	She stuck out her lower lip at her husband. 
	"Excuse me, mame, sir, but I'm confused," Hadji plied hopefully. 
"I do know that Professor Birdwell has not broken any oath.  In fact, he
has avoided talking about his past before joining the university.  I think
it is that past that hurts him so." 
	Kidd's stare softened, with a tick to his sighted eye.  "Well," he
cleared his voice.  "Be that as it may, we don't know who you ---" 
	"Ugh, Hadj!" Birdwell bitterly complained, as he rolled up on the
opposite bed.  "You promised me, that you'd keep me away from that rice
wine!" 
	"Professor Birdwell, we never made it to the restaurant!" 
	"Oh, yeah --- th' muggers.  I wish I could forget them!  But with
this softball sized lump in the back of my head ---" 
	"Busby," Mrs. Kidd wondered over to his bed.  "Are you ---" 
	He immediately snapped up his head.  His face fell, paled, then
spread in a joyful smile.  "Erika!" he yelped, throwing his arms around
her.  "Oh my God, you're still alive??" 
	"So am I, Busby." 
	"Kidd!" he yelled, but his throbbing head prevented him from
jumping up to embrace the man.  "But how did you, I ---" 
	"Obviously, we were brought together for a purpose," Hadji silkily
announced, as he stood and studiously paced the luxurious suite.  When he
reached the bay window, he tucked himself into the fold of velvet, then
clandestinely peered across the rolling lawns, which were patrolled by
heavily armed men, and big nasty dogs. 
	"Kidd, Hadji Singh's Doctor Quest's ward," Busby explained, to his
questioning expression.  "I was offering him a stripend with all of the
trimmings, when we were jumped!" 
	"Son ---" Kidd singled to him. 
	"Yes, sir," he readily agreed.  "They can see in." 
	"There're also surveillance cameras, and likely bugs," Kidd told
him. 
	"Surveillance cameras?  Bugs?" Birdwell's voice rose with each
beat.  "What kinda place is this, the resort from hell?" 
	"Yeah, the bellhops come fully equipped," Erika smirked.  "With
Uzis!" 
	"Which makes escape difficult, but not impossible." 
	"Didn't I tell ya, that his family's rather unusual?" Busby put
in.  "They've got a SEAL named ---" 
	"Right now I don't care if the seal's name is Andre, Busby!  Now,
we're not escaping, not until we find out why we were kidnapped and
brought here, Mister Singh." 
	"Uh, Kidd, Hadji is the Sultan of Bangalore." An annoyed sigh
escaped.  "Busby, your Majesty, are there any more surprises I should know
about?" 
	Hadji weakly smiled.  "Mister Kidd, I'm only a part time Sultan. 
And I prefer to be called Hadji." 
	Erika visibly shivered, then strolled away from the group.  "Jon,
since Hadji over there has been honest with us, we should be ---" 
	"Erika, no that directly goes against our oaths!" 
	She was about to protest when Hadji intervened, "I agree with
Mister Kidd. 
 Oaths should never be taken lightly." 
	"Shut up Swami!" she fiercely snapped then crumbled in tears at
the vanity.  "Now I'm doing it!  Good grief, in a twisted way, they
brought him back, and that means someone wants us together!" 
	"Erika, he doesn't want to know.  He doesn't need to---" 
	"There you're wrong, Jonathan!" shoving herself back onto her
feet.  "They brought us together, likely to kill us!  At least let the boy
understand why, before ---" 
	Hadji steered himself.  From the bathroom, the phantom tiger gave
him a lazy confirming blink. Over his lifetime ago, he stood with them,
beneath three giant black swans.  "I think I'm beginning to understand,
Mrs. no Doctor Kidd..." 
	She was not listening.  "Look, we had a fourth member of our team,
we knew him as Guru, since none of us could pronouce his name," she gave a
forced little laugh, to stem off her tears.  "He umm, ---" 
	"Gave his life for this world," Kidd answered with a firmer tone,
but in the same degree of mourning as his wife. 
	"Look, to paraphrase Star Trek, Hadji, we were boldly sent were no
sane man should go.  And paid for it ---" 
	"Busby," Erika dabbed off her face.  "Must you joke at a time like
---" 
	The door squealed open, emitting two thugs, sporting automatic
rifles.  "Looks like everybody's awake now Sharky.  You better hurry up
and say your good-byes now.  The Big Man wants an audience, with you good
folks.  Now move!" 
	"But ---" Busby swung defensively before Hadji.  "We really aren't
---" 
	"The Old Boss can't see straight. So he plays the part of Guru, it
don't make any difference.  Now move, all of you!"