recently decreed that anyone caught sneaking around the workshop, day or night, would be hung by their pinkies. That threat may have deterred the other pirates, but not Kit. It only made him more curious to find out what Ratchet had been building. Whatever that thing was, it made Karnage extremely happy. And since Karnage wouldn’t tell him what it was, he’d just have to find out for himself.

Just as he was about to turn the corner, Kit stopped in his tracks. He had heard a noise akin to a puppy’s whimper. With his back to the wall, he cautiously peeked around the corner. The boy sighed with relief when he realized that the noise was coming from Hacksaw, who had fallen asleep on guard duty. The brawny canine stood in the middle of the corridor, his arms folded across the butt of his shotgun, his head resting on his arms. As Kit tiptoed past him, he twitched slightly and let out another whimper as if he were having a bad dream.

Kit scurried through the hallway and down the stairs. As the boy hurried past the radio room, he noticed that Gibber was there. Ever since the night that Kit had heard about the stone, either Gibber or Will, Karnage’s second mate, had been stationed at the radio, listening for more information about the jewel.

Quickly and quietly, Kit went out the open beak and skirted around the harbor to the cavern designated as the workshop where the pounding of a hammer and the sizzling of the welding torch could be heard at all hours of the day and night.

A fire was roaring in the large furnace, making the room feel like an oven. The tarp that usually covered the mysterious machine had been thrown off. Rachet stood on a platform, his welding mask pulled down over his face. Sparks were flying from his welding torch. For a few moments, Kit gazed at the huge contraption, constructed from an array of diverse items that had been stolen one by one from Shere Khan’s cargo planes and ships.

Kit took a deep breath and strutted over to the base of the platform where Ratchet was working. “Yo!” he shouted to get the mechanic’s attention.

Ratchet turned off the welding torch, pushed up his mask, and looked down at the boy. “The captain know you’re here, kid?”

“The captain doesn’t need to know everything,” Kit replied insolently. “Need any help?”

“Sure,” Ratchet said with his habitual sniff which made it seem like he had a perpetual cold. “I could use a hand.”

Kit scrambled up the ladder to the platform.

Ratchet placed an industrial-strength spring up against the machine’s metal frame. “Hold this there.” When Kit took hold of it, the spring slipped a fraction of an inch lower. The mechanic jerked the spring up, snapping, “No, there.” He flipped down his welding mask.

Kit squeezed his eyes shut to protect them from the blinding light of the welding arc. When the mechanic turned off the torch and inspected his work, the boy asked casually, “So, what’s this thing for?”

“To get into Cape Suzette.” Sniff.

“How?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions.” He took a book from his tool belt and flipped to a marked page.

“I helped steal this stuff, I figure I got a right to know how this thing works.”

Ratchet looked at Kit for a long time as if he was considering what to say. Finally, he muttered, “It’s too complicated for a kid like you.” Sniff.

“Try me,” Kit said, peeking over the mechanic’s arm at the book.

“Nuh-huh.” Ratchet slammed the book shut and shoved it back into his tool belt. “The captain wouldn’t like it.”

Becoming frustrated at the lack of answers, Kit sputtered, “W-well...then could you give me a demonstration?”

“Can’t.” Sniff. “It ain’t put together yet, ‘cause I ain’t got all the parts.”

“What other parts do you need?”

Vaguely Ratchet said, “Couple of things.” Sniff. “Run along, kid. It’s way past your bedtime.”

As he climbed down the ladder, Kit muttered under his breath, “Thanks for nothing. I hate being a kid. No one ever tells you anything.”

Iron Vulture
Christmas

Like every other day for the past month, one of Shere Khan’s captured cargo planes rolled into the Iron Vulture’shangar. The fact that it was Christmas made no difference to either Shere Khan, who insisted that Christmas was just another business day, or to Don Karnage, whose plan was to plunder every one of Khan’s cargo planes that came his way.

Don Karnage chuckled to himself as he strolled towards the captured plane’s cargo hold door. “Santa has deposited yet another present in our stockings, my mangy minions. It is time to rip off the wrappings and get to the goodies inside!”

With an excited cheer, the pirates jimmied open the door with crowbars, then hopped into the cargo hold. In the middle of the cargo hold was a single, large crate, twice as tall as it was wide. Splayed across each of the four sides of the crate was ‘Fragile’, ‘This Side Up’ in big, red letters. Through one hole in the crate, a beak protruded. Through another hole, a bulging, darting eye watched them. A tuft of purple feathers stuck out of yet another hole. A chorus of muffled squawking came from within.

But what was really noticeable was the overpowering stench.

“Ew, yuck!” Mad Dog exclaimed. His hand automatically flew to his nose. “Something smells...funny.”

“Don’t look at me,” Dumptruck said, his hand over his own nose. “I took a bath last veek.”

Due to the clothespin on his nose, the panther pilot said nasally, “I wouldn’t open that if I were you.”

“But you are not me. Don Karnage can leave no stone unturned, no crate unopened.” He pushed a couple of other pirates closer to the crate while he, himself, moved closer to the door. “Open it!”

His eyes watering, Kit murmured, “Do we have to?"

Karnage hopped out of the plane, shouting, “I will wait out here where it is safe, I mean, so you can see the present first.”

“Gee, thanks,” Kit said sarcastically.

When the pirates stuck their crowbars in the crate to pry it open, the panther pilot retreated into the cockpit and slammed the door behind him. Before the pirates knew what was happening, they were engulfed in a flurry of feathers, flapping wings, and pecking beaks.

“What are these?” Kit shouted over the discordant squawking. He attempted to shield his face with his hands while struggling to push their assailants back into the crate.

“Gor...” Mad Dog coughed, then spit a feather out of his mouth. “Gorilla birds! Ow! Get away from me, you stupid bird! That’s my nose, not your dinner!”

Finally, after struggling for several minutes, they managed to corral the birds in the crate. The pirates, tired, sweaty, reeking, and covered in feathers and peck marks, fled from the cargo hold moments before the plane flew out of the hangar.

With a wan laugh, Don Karnage said, “Merry...Christmas?”

The pirates collapsed in a heap.

Pirate Island
New Year’s Eve

Leaning against the wall in the main cavern, Kit ran a finger underneath the uncomfortable elastic band that strapped his party hat to his head. He felt stupid wearing the purple polka-dotted hat, but pretending to enjoy the lame New Year’s Eve party was the perfect excuse for keeping tabs on Don Karnage. At the moment, the pirate captain was immensely enjoying sitting on his throne-like chair in the middle of the cave, a real gold crown on his well-groomed head, barking orders to the minions who were waiting on him hand and foot.

For more than a month, Kit had been trying to figure out Karnage’s zealously guarded secret behind the mysterious, monstrous machine in the workshop. But more importantly, he wanted to know about Karnage’s plans to steal the jewel. Every day, he became more and more impatient to quit the air pirates. The boy knew that only by sticking close to the captain would he get the answers he’d been looking for.

Kit was momentarily distracted from his self-appointed surveillance when Mad Dog and Dumptruck walked past him towards the winding passageway that led to the outdoor ledge where Karnage liked to sunbathe.

“This year, we’re gonna bring the New Year in with a bang,” Mad Dog said with a nasal chuckle.

Dumptruck followed him, carrying a large crate. From the top of the crate protruded rockets and coils of fuse. “Yeah, vith lots and lots of firevorks!”

“And they say kids shouldn’t play with matches,” Kit muttered under his breath. His eyes wandered around the room, wondering how much longer the so-called party was going to last.

Except for Don Karnage smacking Sadie for bringing him green grapes instead of purple, the most exciting thing happening was over by the refreshment table where Hal and Hacksaw were arguing over the last cookie.

Kit strolled over to them. “Hey, guys. Whoa!” he gasped, pretending to be astonished by something behind them. “What’s that over there?”

When both pirates spun around to look, Kit swiped the cookie and hurried away.

“What’s the big idea, kid?” Hal said, turning towards the table. “There’s nothin’ there.” He looked down at the empty plate, crestfallen. “There’s nothin’ here either.”

Hacksaw peered under the rickety card table, searching for the cookie. “Where’d it go?”

In a shadowy corner of the cave, on the opposite side of the room from the refreshment table,

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