"Cid!"

No answer.

"Cid!"

Nothing.

"Cid, do you hear me?"

She waited a moment, then Shera got mad. She went back into the nursery and picked up the baby. Balancing him on her hip, she strode out of the house to the hanger Cid had built for the Highwind. She found him giving orders to his men about fixing one of the engines.

"Cid!" She said angrily. "Didn't you hear me calling you?"

She might as well have been invisible. He didn't even look at her.

"You're putting it in the wrong place Damn it!" Cid took the crewman by the shoulder and pointed. "It goes right there! Do it right or get out of the way and let someone else do the job!"

"Sorry Sir." The crewman bent down to reset the gear.

"Cid!"

Cid looked up at a man replacing the glass on the observation deck.

"Are you sure that's tinted? I wanted tinted glass this time!" He threw down his cigarette. "If you don't fix it right, I'm coming up there to kick your-"

"CID!!"

He turned to her exasperated.

"What? What is it Shera?" He waved his hands at her. "I'm busy! Can't you see I'm busy?"

"I can see that," she said. "But so am I. I'm busy trying to get out of here. Take your son!"

"I don't have time for him now." Cid gestured at the Highwind. "I've got a lot of passengers to carry next week. You know. There's that archeology convention that's going to be held in Bone Village. I've got to get my ship in shape!"

"The crewmen can handle the ship," she said. "Take the baby."

"Look Shera," Cid put his arm around his wife and led her to the door of the hanger. "I'm sure you can handle the baby for now. I'll take him off your hands after dinner tonight."

"No you won't." Shera pulled free. "You're going to take him now."

"You're not listening to me."

"Take the baby!"

"I CAN'T!" Cid ran a hand across his brow. "I've got these repairs to make!"

"And I've got to go!" She pushed the baby at him. "Take the baby Cid!"

"Go where?" He put his hands on his hips. "What's so important you can't keep an eye on our son?"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten!" Shera looked at him in despair. "I even reminded you this morning!"

"Reminded me of what?"

"Elly Janny and I are going to see a play at the Gold Saucer Theater!" The baby was slipping. Shera adjusted his weight against her body. "I've had tickets for weeks. I told you about this Cid!"

For the first time he noticed she was wearing her prettiest dress. He slapped a hand against his forehead. "That's right. You did."

"Good. You remember." She held the baby out again. "Take the baby."

"Take him with you." Cid made a face at the baby. Baby Cid grinned at him. "He'll love it."

"A baby? At a play?" Shera rolled her eyes at him. "Don't be ridicules. He'll get tired and start crying and no one will be able to hear anything. I'll get thrown out before the show is over."

"Well . . . " Cid looked back at his ship. "Can't you go on another day?"

"This show is sold out Cid." The baby was wiggling. Shera hugged him closer. "Take the baby."

He brightened. "You're not going to make it today. The Highwind is down for at least three more hours. You're going to end up missing more half of the show anyway, so why bother to go at all?"

"I wasn't planning on using the Highwind." Shera gave him a victorious smile. "You're forgetting Elly's husband flies the mail plane. He's going to drop us off. Take the baby."

He stepped back, warding her off with upraised hands.

"Whoa! I've got an airship to fix. I can't watch a baby and fix my ship at the same time. That's impossible!"

Shera moved closer until the only thing keeping them apart was the baby's body.

"I cook your food, clean your house, wash your dirty clothes, wait on you hand and foot, put up with your swearing, follow you around with an ash tray, and design new plans for your airship. If I can do all that and raise your child too, I'm sure you can manage to yell at your men, who are REALLY doing the work, by the way, and watch a little boy!"

"Ouch."

"Take the baby Cid."

"Shera . . . " His voice faltered.

"Take this baby, or so help me Cid, I'm going to wrap those goggles around your neck and strangle you!"

Her eyes were blue lasers. Cid blinked. He took the baby.

"You don't have to get so vicious about it Shera."

She reached in her pocket and pulled out a folded sheet of paper. "Take this."

"What's this?"

"Everything you have to do for the baby," she said. "Like feeding him and changing his diaper and all that."

He turned pale. "No one said anything about changing diapers."

Shera rolled her eyes at him. "He's not potty trained yet Cid."

The pilot looked at his son as if he were growing horns.

Shera looked at her watch. "I've got to go."

"How many times do you change his diaper in a day?"

"As many times as it takes." Shera brushed her at her clothes. "I keep three boxes in his room."

"Uh. . . " Cid grimaced. "He doesn't go through all of that in a day, does he?"

"If you'd spend more time with THIS baby," she pointed at the Highwind. "Instead of THAT baby, you'd know the answer to your own question."

She leaned forward and kissed him.

"I'll be back in the morning."

"In the morning?" Cid's voice rose a notch. "I thought you were coming back tonight!"

"Don't be silly." Shera turned back toward the house. "It'll be too dark to come back then. I don't want to meet any monsters on the airstrip."

A chocobo cart pulled up. Shera waved to the man inside.

"That's Neal, Elly's husband. I'll see you later Cid!"

"Wait!" Cid followed her. "What do I do if he cries?"

"Read the note." Shera climbed into the cart. "I'm out of here."

She blew a kiss at the baby.

"Bye baby! Bye bye!"

"Shera!" Cid looked after her helplessly. "I can't do this! I don't know how!"

"You'll learn." she said firmly. "And don't you swear at or around our baby!"

"Shera!"

The cart kept going. Shera waved. "Keep an eye on him Cid. He's a toddler now! He'll get into things if you don't watch him!"

The cart picked up speed.

"Bye the way," She called. "He needs a change now!"

Cid's face fell. "Shit!"

"Tht!" said the baby.

Cid looked at him sharply. "What did you say?"

The baby smiled at him.

Groaning under the burden of injustice. Cid carried his son into the house. He went straight to the nursery.

"This isn't fair!" He muttered. "This isn't a man's job. I've got things to do!"

He laid the baby on the changing table.

"How do you work these damn things?" He examined the sides of the diaper. "I know I've seen Shera do this before."

Baby Cid kicked and squealed. His little legs kicked and churned the air. Cid leaned close. How did you open a diaper? He leaned closer to see, discovering an odor he hadn't noticed before.

"Whewwww!" He shoved himself away from the table. "I think I'm going to need gloves for this."

Leaving the baby on the changing table, he went into the kitchen. Shera kept two pairs of gloves by the sink. Cid grabbed a pair. He went back to the nursery, holding one glove under his arm, while he worked to pull on the other. His eyes widened in shock.

Baby Cid was on the verge of crawling over the side of the table.

"Stop!" Cid rushed forward.

Startled by the sound of his father's voice, the baby flinched and bounced forward. His hand came down on open space. He toppled forward. Cid reached the table just in time to make a desperate grab. His bare fingers hooked the back of the diaper. There was a tearing sound, but his gloved hand was under his son's body now. Heart pounding, Cid pulled the baby back up on the table. He sagged in relief.

"Your mother would kill me," he panted. "She wouldn't let me live long enough to tell my side of the story."

Baby Cid lay still, watching his father with solemn eyes.

Cid leaned over him. "Trust me kid. You can't fly. Not yet anyway."

The baby reached up and grabbed a handful of hair. His face showed strain as he tried to draw his father's hair into his mouth.

"Stop that!" Cid started to reach up and stopped. That odor was back again, but this time he got a better whiff. "What the-"

He pulled his hair out of the baby's grasp and examined the glove. He'd reached in further than he intended to. His fingertips were soiled. Cid's face wrinkled in disgust.

"Ugh!"

Careful not to get the mess on his bare hand, he peeled off the glove. Holding it between the index and forefinger of his right hand, he looked around for a place to get rid of it. The wastebasket was only a few steps away. He threw the glove inside and rubbed his hands on his pants leg.

"Now for you," he said to Baby Cid. "How do I get this damned thing off?"

When they'd first brought the baby home, Shera was determined to use nothing but cloth diapers on her son. After a few accidents on her clothing, the baby's bed and theirs, she changed her mind. Cid had stopped changing diapers long before then. It was all because Shera was so damned fussy about the way a diaper looked. So what if a corner hung out here and there? So what if the corners weren't even? The whole point of a diaper was to put a barrier between the baby and whatever it could leak on. At least he knew where to put the pins, and to his credit, he'd never poked the baby once. That didn't win any points with Shera. If taking the baby away from him to fix the diaper herself wasn't enough, the look on her face said it all.

He didn't stay mad long. As the baby's diet changed, he was glad his wife wanted to change all the diapers herself. In fact, he was hoping he'd stay out of it, right up until the time Baby Cid was fully potty trained. It was just his luck to get stuck with a job, he'd gotten out of for weeks.

Cid picked up the baby wipe container and set it on the table just above his son's head. He examined the sides of the diaper. How did these things work? Tape? He tugged at one. It peeled loose easily. A smile spread across his face. This was going to be easy! He pulled at the other strip. The right side of the diaper opened too. He pulled the front back.

"That was easy," he said to the baby. "We'll get you fixed up in no time!"

He leaned forward to get the wipes. As his hands closed around the plastic jar, he felt warm wet moisture on the front of his shirt. He stepped back and looked down. Wetness poured down his shirt sinking into the front of his pants.

"Shit!"

"Tht!" mimed the baby.

Cid looked up. "You did that on purpose!"

Baby Cid laughed.

"That's not funny!" moaned Cid in dismay. "It looks like I wet myself!"

The baby blew a stream of spit bubbles.

"Shit!" muttered Cid again.

"Tht!" said the baby.

"Knock it off." Cid reached for the buttons on his shirt. "Your mother will kill me if she heard you saying that."

"We're going to have to talk about this when I'm through." Cid peeled off the shirt and dropped it in the wastebasket.

He pulled his undershirt out of his pants and pulled it up over his head. By the time it cleared his face, Baby Cid had turned over and was crawling toward the edge of the changing table. The tape on the right side of the diaper was stuck to his skin. As Baby Cid crawled, he smeared the contents of the diaper on the table behind him.

Cid cried out in alarm. Flinging his undershirt away, he leaped forward, just as the baby would have fallen over the edge of the table again.

"Do you have a death wish or something?" Then he noticed the diaper had fallen to the floor. Content side down, of course.

"I'll just be d-" Cid smacked himself on the side of the head. "Don't swear in front of the baby."

There were sticky smears on the baby's legs. Cid snatched a blanket out of the baby's bed and spread it over the mess. He laid the baby on his back on top of it. He tugged a wipe out of the container. The baby jumped as the cool moist tissue touched his skin.

"Sorry about that," Cid held up a leg and wiped it. "But it's your own fault for moving."

He left the diaper where it was while he worked. When the cleaning was done, he took a new diaper out of the changing table drawer and put it under the baby's rump. The phone rang. Cid grimaced. The phone was in the other room. It rang again. Cid looked the diaper. The hardest part was done. The phone wouldn't take more than a couple of minutes. Swearing under his breath, he tucked the baby under his arm and went into the master bedroom. Laying the baby on the bed, he picked up the phone.

"Yeah? What is it?" His face turned red as he listened. "YOU DID WHAT? Didn't I tell you not to attach that part until the gears were in place? Wait a minute . . . I'll be right there!"

Slamming down the phone, he ran out of the room, snagging a shirt off the doorknob as he went.

Baby Cid waited for his father. He waited, but a baby's patience is short. When Cid didn't come back right away, his attention turned to the night stand. Raising himself on his hands and knees, he crawled to the head of the bed. Pulling himself up on the pillows he reached out and snagged the telephone receiver.

Constructed of light plastic, he managed to pull it off the hook, but it was too unwieldy for his little hands. It fell on the table top. A steady tone droned through the earpiece. The baby tried to pick it up, but all he succeeded in doing, was knocking it over the edge. Dangling by the cord, the receiver lay on the floor.

Undaunted, the baby crawled off the bed onto the table itself. Squeezing past the phone's base, he raised up on his knees and grabbed the lampshade. It rocked under his fingers. Baby Cid found that amusing. Laughing out loud, he beat it with his hands. The lampshade rocked and turned under the punishment. The slender base began to inch toward the edge of the table. An extra hard slap sent it over the edge. It fell to the floor scattering bright shards of glass across the floor.

Baby Cid turned his head at the sound of a high pitched beeping noise. It was coming from the floor in front of the night stand. He looked down. The receiver was the source of the sound. He couldn't get to it, but the base of the phone was still pressing against his legs.

Pleased to find a new toy, Baby Cid sat down. Leaning forward, he rested his hands one of the cradle buttons. The buzzing on the floor stopped. The baby pressed a few buttons. They went down under his touch. He took his hand off the cradle and used both hands to press a sequence of numbers. The sounds of dialing came from the receiver.

The baby stopped pressing buttons to look around. This was no fun. On the floor, the sound of a phone ringing could be heard. There was a click as the call was answered.

"This is the Hot Babes Hotline," said a sexy female voice. "This call is long distance. You have ten seconds to hang up and avoid being charged. However, if you want to hear some really sexy chit-chat, stay on the line, and a Hot Babe will speak to you personally."

Baby Cid spotted the other night stand. There was a box of bright pink tissue sitting there. He laughed.

"Well baby," said the voice on the phone. "You've chosen to hear some really sexy talk! Stay on the line please, your Hot Babe is coming on right now."

Baby Cid looked down.

"Hi Baby," said a new voice. "You ready for a really hot time?"

Baby Cid made a cooing sound.

"All right-t-t-t!" purred the sexy voice. "Do you want me to tell you what I want to do with you? Or do you want to tell me what you're going to do to me?"

"O-o-o-o-o!" answered the baby.

"You want me to tell you?" The voice laughed. "Okay, but it might take a while. We charge three gil for every minute after the first three. Is that okay?"

Baby Cid was drooling. He smacked his lips. "M-m-m-m!"

"All right sugar," the female voice dropped low. "Get ready for the ride of your life. You know what I'd like to do right now?"

"Ah-h-h-h!" Baby Cid turned his attention to the other night stand. "Tht!"

The woman's voice laughed. "Calm down baby. First I'm going to-"

Baby Cid didn't care to hear anymore. He crawled past the base of the phone, back up onto the pillows. The bright pink tissue was like a magnet. He crawled onto the table, knocking the other lamp between the table and the wall. It broke. More glass spread across the floor,

The tissue came out of the box under his inquisitive hands. He put it in his mouth. It soaked up the liquid in his mouth. He tried to pull it out. Most of it came out easily, but some of it stuck to his tongue. Spitting, working his tongue, he removed the flat tasting substance. When he finished, he tugged at another tissue. Another popped up when he pulled one out. He pulled them all out, one by one.

Covered by a mound of pink softness. Baby Cid lost interest. He crawled through the tissue toward the foot of the bed. Halfway there, he paused. Wetness poured from his body. It pooled on the spread, then slowly sank through. Baby Cid waited till the flood was over, before he crawled the rest of the way.

It was a long ways to the floor, but there was nothing to do up here. He leaned over the edge looking for a way down. He over balanced and fell, landing at a awkward angle. He let out a cry. There was no one there to hear him. He cried for a while, then raised himself to his knees looking around. Where was the one who always picked him up and held him? Where was the one who fed him? The one who put him to bed at night every night was gone. Baby Cid crawled a few paces. His eyes fell on the dangling doily on the vanity table. He crawled to it.

Sitting down beneath it, he put the end in his mouth. There was no real flavor there. He sucked at it a bit, then took it in his hands and tugged. It moved, dropping lower. Curious, he tugged again, and again. The cloth was hanging lower now. He took it in both hands and gave a final tug. The cloth fell off the table, bringing a lipstick, nail file and a bottle of fingernail polish with it.

He couldn't get a good enough grip on the nail file to pick it up, so he picked up the polish instead. He sucked on the cap. It had a slightly nasty flavor. He took it in one hand and banged it on the floor before he put it in his mouth again. That didn't improve the flavor. He dropped it in favor of the lipstick. The top fell off, rolling away from him. He started to go after it, but a glimpse of the red thing inside the part he held in his hand kept him in place.

He put it in his mouth. It tasted worse than the polish, but it kind of interesting. He tasted it again, before he decided it wasn't something he really wanted. Dropping it, he crawled toward the bedroom door.

The doorway presented an interesting choice. There were several routes to choose from. Baby Cid settled on his haunches to think it over. The brightest doorway beckoned to him. He crawled toward it. To his amazement, he found a room full of furniture, but caught his eyes was the front door. The screen was hanging open. He giggled and made his way to it.

It took a little while, the effort was worth it when he reached out to touch the screen and it opened even further. Baby Cid crawled out into the bright sunshine. As luck would have it, none of the neighbors were around to witness his escape to freedom. No one saw the baby make his way around the side of the house to Shera's flower bed. Once he crawled across the border, he was hidden among the plants.

He was just about to taste a flower spotted a colorful bug. It was too much to resist. He went after it. The bug was quicker than he. Unimpeded by the foliage, the bug kept well ahead of him. Baby Cid dogged it's heels. The rough ground cut into his knees and hands, but he was determined to get that bug. He followed it all the way through the flower bed until it ended at the back of the house.

The bug cleared the garden and stopped a short distance away. Baby Cid crawled out of the garden toward it. Tired of the chase, the bug spread it's wings and flew away. Baby Cid laughed. His eyes followed the bugs progress through the air. He crawled after it, hoping to caught up, but quickly gave up that idea. He sat down and grabbed a handful of grass. Sticking it in his mouth, he gnawed at it with two little baby teeth.

Several feet away, yellow eyes watched him from the tall grass. It wasn't hungry now, but Velcher Tusks didn't always hunt when they were hungry. They didn't mind storing something away until later. Full from a recent kill, it was on its way to its den to nurse its babies. Taking the human young. Taking the small human now would mean it wouldn't have to go out for food in the morning. The Velcher Tusk sniffed the air. It sensed other humans in the area, but there were none in the clearing but this one. Checking the air again, it darted toward the baby.

Baby Cid didn't look around until the cold wet nose of the Velcher Tusk touched his back. He turned around and flinched. He didn't know what this creature was, but even at this age, he sensed something wrong. His small lips turned down and trembled.

The Velcher Tusk ran its tongue over the baby's back and shoulders. The human's skin tasted salty and sweet. He smelt faintly of urine, but the monster didn't mind. The rough tongue ran over the baby's face and stomach.

Though he was frightened, there was something soothing in the touch of the monster's tongue. As rough as it was, it wasn't really that uncomfortable. Baby Cid giggled, making a face only when the tongue touched his open mouth. He brushed at his face, then dropped on his hands and knees and tried to crawl away. The tongue licked his back once more and stopped. Someone was coming. The Velcher Tusk raised it's head.

A ball bounced into the clearing. A little boy followed it. He stopped when he saw the monster.

It was time to go. The monster could be a scavenger when nothing else was available, but most Velcher Tusks preferred freshly slaughtered kills. Had Baby Cid been an adult, he would have died right there. His youth saved him. The monster lowered its head and opened its mouth. It closed its fangs gently around the baby's body. Holding Baby Cid in its mouth, the monster turned to look at the boy once more. Turning around, it flew across the ground, vanishing in the tall grass. The little boy stared after it, his jaw hanging open. Forgetting about his ball, he turned and ran as fast as his legs would carry him.

"Damn it, didn't you hear me man?" Cid was red faced with fury. "I told you what to do with that part. Now you've gone and damaged it. I'm going to have to repair it before we can use it now!"

"Sorry Captain," said the crewman meekly. "I tried to do it the way you said."

"I ought to kick your ass!" raged Cid. "Of all the stupid, idiotic things to do . . . you're lucky I don't take my lance and beat the shit out of you with it!"

"Sorry Sir," the crewman hung his head. "I made a mess of things."

"You sure the hell did!"

The rest of the crew kept working. They didn't look at Cid or the blushing crewman. No one stood up for him either. No one wanted to deal with Cid when he was in a foul mood. A little boy ran into the hanger.

"Mr. Highwind!"

"Shit!" Cid put his hands on his hips. "This will set me back a few hours."

The little boy tried again. "Mr. Highwind!"

"If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself!" Cid looked up at the sky. "Why didn't I follow my first instinct?"

The little boy tugged at Cid's jacket. "Mr. Highwind . . . please!"

Cid rolled his eyes down at the boy. "Go away Petie. Can't you see I'm busy now?"

He stomped over to his chest of tools and starting rummaging through it.

"Where's my damn wrench?" he muttered to himself.

The boy had followed him. "But Mr. Highwind . . . "

"Go away Petie," growled Cid. "Now! I'm busy!"

"But-"

"But HELL!" shouted Cid. "Get away from me kid. I've got an aircraft to fix!"

Petie was too desperate to be deterred.

"But the baby!" he cried. "The monster got the baby"

The crewmen froze. Cid, kept looking through his toolbox, muttering to himself.

"You've got to get the baby!" The little boy was frantic. "You've got to get the baby before the monster eats him!"

Cid found his wrench.

"Here it is," he said holding it up for the crewman to see. "This is what you should have used."

The crewman in question stepped forward. "Uh- Sir?"

"Get your ass back to work," snapped Cid. "We're really behind now!"

His eyes fell on Petie.

"Are you still here? Get along home."

"Sir?" The meek crewman put his hands on Petie's shoulders. "I believe you ought to listen to him Sir."

Cid rolled his eyes, a look of disgust on his face. "All right, All right! What the hell do you want Petie?"

The little boy looked up at him. "The monster took the baby, Mr. Highwind. It took the baby and ran away."

Cid's mind was on the time he was losing. "What baby?"

Petie's face was pale. "Yours."

Cid stared at him. "What?"

"The monster ran off with Baby Cid."

Cid felt a band of cold clamp around his heart. "What did you say?"

Petie took a deep breath. "The monster ran away with your baby Mr. Highwind."

"No." Cid shook his head. "Nothing's got my baby. He's fine. As a matter of fact, he's in the house with-"

His eyes widened in shock. Before anyone could say another word, Cid dropped his wrench and ran for the hanger door. The first thing he saw, as he ran toward the house was the open door. He almost tore it off the hinges flinging it wider. He ran into the bedroom.

"Cid! Cid! Where are you?"

The lamps were nothing but shades and scraps. There was tissue all over the bed and a big damp spot. The phone lay on the floor. Cid heard a voice. He picked it up.

"Oh yeah baby," said the voice on the phone. "And then I'm going to put my hands on your shoulders and . . . "

"Who the hell is THIS?"

The voice on the other end stopped. "I'm your Hot Babe sugar."

"MY WHAT?"

"Your Hot Babe, you know," she said. "You call me and I talk dirty to you?"

"Get off my damn phone!" snarled Cid.

"You called me!" she said.

"That's a lie!" His eyes darted around the room. "I'm trying to find my baby!"

He meant to hang up, but in his panic the receiver missed the cradle. Cid ran out of the bedroom.

"But I AM your baby," cooed the voice. "And you've found me. Let me finish what I was saying. I'm going to . . . "

Cid ran out the door. The little boy ran up to him. He pointed.

"I saw them out there! The monster ran that way!"

"Thanks kid." Cid ran back into the house. Retrieving his lance from the closet, he ran out the back door. Was his baby dead already?

The little boy was standing in the very spot he had seen the baby last.

"They were here." He pointed down, then at the grass. "It took him that way."

Cid knelt down to look at the ground. There were no tracks. He stood up. Shera was going to kill him. Maybe she wouldn't get a chance. If he couldn't find his son. How could he go on knowing this was all his fault? How was he going to track a monster in the grass? The Highwind was out of commission for a while. He looked in the direction the monster had gone. His eyes picked out a slight distortion in the way the grass lay. His hopes rose. Maybe it wasn't too late.