Kiwis in Space

186,000 miles/sec: Not just a good idea, it's the LAW!

**********

The sleek ship cut a fast pace through the cosmos, darting into comet tails and weaving its way through asteroid fields as the opportunities presented 
themselves.  Even when there was nothing but the vast emptiness of space 
stretched for light-years ahead of them, the ship bobbed and weaved, changing 
its course often to throw off any pursuers.

Galaxia Kiwi sat stiffly in the plush captain's chair of the Duckhawk, staring ahead at the viewscreen and half-listening to her crew call out course changes, 
scanner readouts, and adjusted destination times.  She knew they were as worried 
about the reasons for the maneuvers as she was.

Galaxia scowled at the starscape on the viewscreen.  She didn't like this mission - she was an esteemed agent of espionage, not some two-bit mercenary!  
She had been all too happy to acquire the information and scientific gizmos her 
employers desired.  She had no problem with that.  And delivering the items to 
them personally - well, it *was* a bit of a hassle, but not completely out of 
the ordinary.   But her employers' insistence that she actually take the device 
out and use it to do their dirty work was just, well, *unthinkable*.  So 
unthinkable that not even triple what was already an exorbiant price had made it 
worth considering.  But she'd failed to consider the motivational force of an 
entire galactic invasion army's weapons pointed at her small ship.

So here she was - no knowledge of military stealth or strategy, no real fighting skills beyond a spy's cloak-and-dagger tactics, with nothing but an untested 
gadget and a set of do-or-die orders.  And the nagging fear that, regardless of 
the ship's extraordinary speed, agility, and armament; regardless of her careful 
planning, the involvement of as few individuals as possible, and her allies' 
promises of diversions; in spite of all these things, they would be found and 
followed.  The Ducks were too smart to be fooled for long.

Or were they?  She squinted at the viewscreen.  Nothing but streaking stars and black space.  She ordered the rear view brought on screen.  Still nothing.  
Perhaps they had slipped past the Ducks.  She'd certainly left enough false 
trails, leads, and diversions.  Scanners were not detecting any readings that 
could be interpreted as evidence of a ship.  

But they were not called the Invisible Ducks for nothing.  SpaceFleet cruisers were not the only ships she needed to avoid - the Ducks were known to prowl the 
galaxies in stealthy, cloaked ships.  SpaceFleet objected publicly, of course, 
but the Ducks' unseen patrols routinely brought pirates and other rouges to 
justice, so SpaceFleet did nothing to stop them.

Galaxia had planned the most complex, winding flight path imaginable, through the most dangerous and least-explored parts of every galaxy she was forced to 
cross.  Her ship, customized to the point where the poor engineer charged with 
designing it had developed chronic ulcers, was the best money could buy. An 
elegant combination of the best in power, shields, speed, and agility along with 
huge cargo holds and a fuel supply so great it could travel charted space in its 
entirety a dozen times without needing to refuel, the Duckhawk was also 
bristling with weapons.  And to top it off, all this was packaged in a 
nondescript, harmless-looking transport ship.

A bright galaxy came into view as the ship slipped into uncharted space.  A peculiar, spiraling mass of stars, it reminded Galaxia of the one she'd heard 
pirates whisper about.  A short computer search informed her that, while it was 
still a 'primitive' (non-warp) planet, it was occasionally visited by 
spacefaring species - mostly poachers or odd groups of scientists. Recently, 
however, several pirates had been to it, aided in emergency repairs and quests 
for rare fuels by several native contacts.

How convenient, she thought to herself, altering course toward the galaxy and scanning the only habited planet in a particular solar system, bringing up local 
data on the contacts' exploits.  Judging by their local activities, she was 
certain they'd jump at the opportunity to aid her with yet another diversion.  And their payment (for they had always demanded some sort of fee for services 
rendered, regardless of shows of force) would be the vessels she provided them 
with.  Let the Ducks deal with some new pirates assaulting the borders instead 
of looking for her. 

She smiled as the ship entered orbit around the small blue planet, had the computer locate the contacts the pirates had listed, and selected the five she 
felt would be most effective.  Hailing the first contact, she was delighted to 
learn he had a device similarly-designed enough to send a visual signal as well 
as audio.  The rarity of such devices on this planet alone showed this agent to 
be one highly interested in sophisticated things.  He would take the shuttle she 
offered, she was sure of it.

**********

 "Sir, wake up, sir.  Sir!" the brown kiwi shook the slumbering form lightly as others watched from the doorway.  It wasn't fair.  Every individual cowering 
behind the door was at least twice his age, and they constantly bickered among 
themselves as to who held the highest rank.  He was never allowed any say in 
these arguments - they were quick to laugh at the young kiwi and point out that 
he was, after all, only the sign holder, obviously a position of no importance 
whatsoever.  And yet it was he who was left in charge when their leader was 
away; he who reported difficulties, failures, or bad news; he who was the only 
one to ever have taken a bullet for their leader.  *He* who was sent to wake 
their leader in the middle of the night.  "Sir, wake up!  It's important!"

"It had better be," the form mumbled, rolling over and sitting up.  The Evil Sir Ivan Kiwi yawned and stretched, then caught sight of a clock and turned to scowl 
at his sign holder.  "So what was so important it couldn't wait until I'd had a 
few hours' sleep?"

"Sorry, sir, but there's a lady on the videophone," the sign holder said, bowing his head.

"A lady?" Ivan repeated, scowl deepening.  Although normally a night owl, he'd returned from Europe hours earlier and, having not slept for around 36 hours, 
had turned in early, with the comment that he'd kill for a good night's sleep. 
A statement which, coming from him, was to be taken literally.  "It had better 
be the queen of something-or-other, or whoever sent you in here is in serious 
trouble."  He glared at the shadows in the doorway.

"She wouldn't tell me who she is, sir.  She demanded to talk to you.  Said maybe 
mentioning Anthropos would help."

*That* got his attention.  A select few had helped the pirate Anthropos when he'd come in search of, of all things, nuclear waste.  Of those that had, there 
was only one female, and Ivan knew his sign holder would've recognized her.  So, 
someone else who knew of Anthropos at least deserved a look.  He got out of bed, 
took a cursory glance in the mirror to make sure he looked presentable, and 
strode out of the room in the direction of the communications room, his 
underlings flattening themselves against the wall as he passed through the door.


The duck on the screen had his full attention immediately.  Not because of her fiery hair, rose tail plumes, or form-fitting black dress, but because of her 
surroundings.  Judging from the numerous uniformed individuals working at 
stations in the background, and the arrangement of those stations, she was on 
the bridge of a starship.  He smiled.  How interesting.

"You rang?" he asked, folding his arms and adopting an unimpressed, informal stance. His sign holder took up position beside and behind him, leaning on the 
sign.  The rest of his underlings dared not intrude on the conversation.

"Greetings.  I am Galaxia Kiwi, commander of this ship, the Duckhawk," she began 
grandly.

"Yeah, yeah.  I'm the infamous Evil Sir Ivan Kiwi.  And you don't look like a kiwi."

"I *know* that!" she snarled, struggling to maintain her composure.  "But that is of no importance.  I have a task you may find interesting."  She paused 
expectantly.  Ivan gave her the ego nudge she wanted, nodding and gesturing that 
she should continue.  "I have a pirate fighter in my cargo hold that is yours if 
you agree to help me keep my enemies occupied while I perform a task.  Are you 
interested?"

"Naturally," Whoever she was, she obviously wasn't a very experienced negotiator, or she wouldn't have disclosed the payment before stating the job.  
It gave him more time to think of how much more he'd ask for.  "But I'd want to 
know more, of course, and would require a crew."

She was not stalled by these first demands for more.  "Of course.  I will provide you with whatever else you need."  Another mistake when negotiating.  
"Only, I would ask that you beam up to my ship now, so we may discuss details in 
a secure area.  If my enemies are near, this transmission could easily be 
overheard."

Ivan considered her offer.  A ship.  More than just a ship, a pirate fighter, with whatever else he decided to ask for.  A little much for a diversion, but 
anyone foolish enough to give him full payment in advance deserved it if he 
decided not to be a diversion for long.  He accepted her offer to board the 
ship, and turned to give his underlings some last-minute orders as Galaxia's 
ship readied its transporter.

"Alright, boys, I'm gonna be out of town for a bit longer.  Just keep doin' what you've been doing.  No wars, no riots, just the normal rounds.  And I'll kill 
every one of you if anyone does otherwise."

Galaxia reappeared on the videoscreen and told him their transporters were ready.  He assumed what he hoped was a normal transporting stance; seconds later 
he felt a tingling sensation as the room's colors began to fade.


Having never transported before, Ivan found it a bit disorienting, but was able (he hoped) to keep from flinching or heaving a sigh of relief as he re-
materialized.  Galaxia and the transport chief stood in front of him, with some 
of her crew to his right.  And no one, he realized with a start, to his left.  
He scowled, pointing to the spot on his left.

"Hey, where's my sign holder?" he said indignantly.

Galaxia looked confused for the briefest of moments, then nodded and smiled.  "Ah, yes, the brown child."  She turned her attention to the transporter chief.  
"Beam him up as well."

Ivan marched off the transporter platform as the chief locked onto the sign holder's coordinates.  He wasn't sure about it, but he figured it was safer not 
to stand on the platform if you weren't transporting anywhere.  He wondered idly 
if his ship had a transporter.  Probably, he figured, to make taking cargo 
easier.

The sign holder materialized with a startled squeak, blinking and looking around wildly.  "Relax, kid," Ivan told him when the young kiwi caught sight of him.

Galaxia smiled a bit too sweetly as she led them out of the room, her patience wearing thin.  Ivan decided to give her a short lesson on the finer points of 
recruiting.  That, and if anyone else was gonna take part in this, he wanted to 
know who, where, and for how much.  "So, anyone else in on this?" he asked 
casually.

"With any luck, several others will be joining us."  

"Then why not let Mr. Spock here" - he indicated her first officer, an odd-looking gray creature that looked like a sentient version of a rabbit - "give us 
the grand tour while you contact 'em."  He grinned.  It was fun showing a lesser 
leader how they could improve. "Save ya from delivering the same briefing over 
an' over again."

Galaxia's eyes narrowed a bit, but she smiled and nodded to her first officer, who took them down the hallway as she headed back to the bridge.

**********

As Galaxia Kiwi began hailing her second contact, another ship slid slowly into orbit behind the Duckhawk, careful to keep the planet between the two.  It could 
have orbited side-by-side with the other ship, however, and still not have been 
detected - but its commander was being careful.

Unlike Galaxia's transport, this ship was not meant to be nondescript.  Its silver hull took the form of a duck in flight, wings in downstroke.  Over twice 
the size of the Duckhawk, it could beat the transport in speed and ordinance and 
match her in agility.  It could not go as far without renewing its fuel supply, 
but was capable of regenerating this supply on its own when the warp drive was 
not engaged.  And while its shields and defenses were not as good as the 
Duckhawk's, its ability to cloak - rendering itself invisible to the eye as well 
as sensors - made up for this vulnerability.  It was also what distinguished 
this ship as one of the Invisible Ducks'.  Or rather, what would have 
distinguished it, had the ship been detected.


Inside the Ducks' ship, Commodore Mallard, the ship's commanding officer, sat in the captain's chair and pondered the ship below.  It did not look like a pirate, 
and yet here it was, lightyears out of charted space, orbiting a planet with 
nothing but what appeared to be pre-warp civilizations.  Hardly the activities 
of an honest businessman.

"Sir!" an ensign yelled, "They just transported two lifeforms off the surface!"

"Preliminary scans indicate isolated incidents of alien contact," his science officer spoke up from her post, "Permission to perform a full-scale scan on the 
planet, Captain?"

"Permission granted.  Perhaps this planet is not entirely pre-warp," he mused.

**********

 "All units respond to 514 Belview Road.  Possible jumper on the roof of Raycliff apartment building C."

"Not Again!"  Ferdia moaned, switching on the sirens and cutting the wheel, swerving the prowler around three lanes of traffic toward Belview.

"Eh?" Her partner inquired, bracing himself as she rounded another corner and stepped on the gas.  "What do you mean, 'not again'?"

"I'd bet my paycheck it's Victor again," she replied, weaving dangerously around traffic, as well as pedestrians, when they cleared the sidewalk better than the 
cabbies did the road.  "That man really needs to invest in a psychiatrist."

The prowler tore through the streets, sliding sideways into a stop just shy of a semicircle of squad cars parked in front of the apartments.  The two partners 
got out of their vehicle and cast a glance around the scene.  A dozen cops were 
struggling to keep onlookers and reporters behind police lines as another group 
set up the huge inflatable air cushion that took up a large portion of the 
sidewalk and road in front of the building.  A handful of others had a megaphone 
and were trying to coax the jumper away from the edge.

However, the jumper, a middle-aged brown mouse, had somehow obtained a megaphone 
himself and was screaming back down at them, tossing pebbles off the roof to 
'test the wind'.  A police helicopter traced a tight circle above the building, 
repeatedly chasing two news-choppers into wider circles whenever they ventured 
too close.  Spotting Casey among the officers trying to talk the mouse off the 
roof, Ferdia jogged up to the orange finch, with Squeaks in tow.

"Casey!  Victor again?"

"Yep.  And he's not even *listening* to us this time.  You wanna try talking him down again?"

"Yeah," she sighed, "But I'm getting tired of doing this," she muttered, 
reaching for the megaphone.  As she did, Trevor approached the group, frowning 
up at the jumper with a uncharacteristic look of concern on his face.  When the 
green finch brought his gaze down to the three of them, however, his eyes held a 
mischievous gleam.

"Hiya, Blue, glad you could join us.  Mind telling your boyfriend up there that there are easier ways to get your attention?"  he joked.

"Shut up, Trev.  He's not my boyfriend," - she switched the megaphone on - "he's just a wacko with nothing better to do at night than guest-star on the 11-
o'clock news."

She brought the megaphone in front of her beak as she said this, speaking just loud enough that the quieter onlookers in the crowd heard the remark and 
tittered.  She favored them with a sidelong smile before turning her full 
attention to the mouse on the roof.

"Hey, Vic, you up there *again*?!  This makes five times this week, and it's only Tuesday!"

"Yeah, well....I'm having a very bad week, okay?" the mouse yelled back, ticking a list off on his fingers. "My ex wants more alimony, I busted up my car, lost 
my job, punks trashed my apartment, and to top it all off, I burned my dinner 
AGAIN!!"

"I'm getting a bit tired of talking you out of jumping, Victor.  It's very hard for us to serve an' protect the entire city when half the precinct is down here 
chatting with you, ya know?  I have cases to solve, crooks to bust, reports to 
type.  And talking with me doesn't seem to be helping you much.  Can't you talk 
to someone else, Vic?  Like a psychiatrist, perhaps?"

"I don't need no shrink!  'Cause I'm really gonna do it this time, I'm gonna jump!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," She waved dismissively, rolling her eyes. "You go right ahead and do that, Vic-"

"WHAT are you DOING?!?" Trevor squawked, grabbing at the megaphone.  She pushed 
him back, keeping him at arm's length.

"Obviously talking him down from the roof the normal way isn't working, so I'm 
changing tactics.  Relax."  She turned her attention back to Victor.  "Do you 
hear me, Vic?  Sure, Department of Sanitation's gonna hate you for messing up 
the sidewalk an' all, but hey, who cares?  Go ahead and jump."

"D-don't think I won't do it!" the mouse yelled down, taken aback by her words.  "I-I'll do it, you know?  I'm crazy!  I'll jump!"

"Give me that!"  Trevor yelled, wrenching the megaphone from her grasp.  "He WILL jump!"

"No he won't," she countered. "He doesn't really want to.  Think about it - he's lonely and down on his luck, and figures no one cares about him.  But when he 
runs to the roof, all of a sudden he's Mister Popularity, with crowds and cops 
and Channel 6 all staring up and begging him not to jump.  He likes the 
attention, decides life's worth living, comes down, and the crowd cheers.  But 
after a while the feeling wears off and he's depressed again.  He doesn't want 
death - just attention."

"And just when did you become our on-site psychologist?" Casey quipped, arching an eyebrow along with the others.

Ferdia just shrugged.  "It makes sense to me.  He needs a shrink."

Casey shook his head.  "We can't make him see a shrink unless he actually jumps."

"And if he really doesn't want to jump, how're we going to get him...to..." Squeaks trailed off, not liking the gleam in his partner's eyes as she eyed the 
air cushion.  "You wouldn't...." he began.

"Of course not!" she said, looking shocked.  Then, snatching a spare set of handcuffs from Trevor's pocket, she dashed toward the building's entrance.  "Be 
right back!" she yelled, dodging around the guards that tried to stop her.

**********

Victor paced the roof's edge, watching as the green cop that'd tried to talk to him earlier grabbed the megaphone away from the bluebird.  Her words echoed in 
his mind - how could she say such things?  He'd thought she understood him, but 
she didn't -- she'd told him to jump, hurt him just like everyone else he'd 
trusted had hurt him.  Could the rest of the people down there really be 
thinking the same thing?  Not 'oh, please don't jump, you don't want to die' 
but, 'why don't you hurry up and jump so we can get on with our lives, loser'?

He kicked a loose brick off the edge - but the brick was bigger than he'd thought, and he lost his balance, swinging his arms out and teetering 
dangerously over the edge as he fought to regain control.  He heard a gasp and 
some shouts from the crowd below.  His heart leapt into his throat as he felt 
himself starting to fall.  Then a hand closed on his shirt and jerked him back 
into a balanced, standing position.

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding and willed strength back into his knees.  Then someone tapped him, startling him so badly he almost fell 
again.

"You all right?"  A voice asked.

Surprised, he turned to find the bluebird leaning over the inner edge of the roof.  Like most roofs in the neighborhood, this building's edge consisted of a 
row of cinder blocks two feet high and wide rising above the rest of the roof, 
making it hard to simply fall off the edge without first stepping up onto the 
ledge these blocks created.  The cop was leaning on this ledge, arms crossed, 
looking down to the streets below.

"Nice view," she remarked.

"If you say so," he managed, sitting down, swinging his legs over the edge.  "s'not why I come up here, though."

"Yeah, yeah, you come up here to jump," she waved a hand dismissively, peering over the edge again.  "Let's see, 35 stories up...at about 10 feet a 
story...that's about, say, 350 feet, right?  Which is, what, about 120 meters 
up?  Without drag, that would be....about 5 full seconds of freefall, I think.  
Hit the ground at about 150 feet per second, which is....roughly 37 miles an 
hour.  Sound like fun?"

"Uh...."  ~ Not really ~, his mind screamed.  What was she trying to pull?  Was she trying to scare him?  He leapt to his feet.  "I'll do it, I swear!  I'll 
jump!"

"Sure you will," she smiled at him, hopping up onto the edge as well.  "Whew!" she breathed, taking in the street below, "What a view!  Anybody else feel like 
yelling 'King of the Mountain'?" she shouted to no one in particular.

He eyed her suspiciously.  Now that he saw her up close, he thought he recognized her from an article in the newspaper.  He wished he could remember 
what the article had been about.  "You're making fun of me, aren't you?"

"Naw, I think it's neat.  Do you realize you have the attention of about 15000 people right now?"

"I do?  There can't be *that* many down there..." he peered over the edge at the growing crowd.

"No, not down there.  Most are probably watching it on the news."  She pointed at a series of lights hovering in the sky at the other side of the street.  
"See?  That's Channel 6's helicopter.  Smile for the camera!"  She waved.

Victor squinted at the lights, realized that he was indeed able to make out a helicopter shape and that of a cameraman perched inside.  As the bluebird waved 
again, he hesitatingly lifted his arm to follow suit....

....and instantly found himself handcuffed to the bird.

"Gotcha," she winked, eyes twinkling.

"Hey!  What are you, nuts?!" he yelped, jumping back a step.  At that moment, he 
remembered why this cop looked familiar.  She and her partner - probably the 
mouse on the street, now that he thought about it - were routinely on TV or in 
the paper.  The most recent episode he could recall had something to do with a 
highjacked 747 jet crash-landing on the highway during rush hour.  He was 
suddenly very worried about that glint in her eyes.

"Naw, I'm not the one who keeps threatening to jump off buildings.  I 'm just the person that's going to convince you not to do that anymore."

"How?"

"Easy.  You keep coming up here.  You wanna jump, and I'm not gonna to try an' talk you out of it anymore.  I agree with you: life sucks.  Let's just jump."

"ARE YOU CRAZY?!?"

"Come on.  I think it looks like fun."

"You ARE crazy!  There's no way I'm gonna ju---aaaaaaaaah!!!!"

**********

Jerking her handcuffed arm toward her quickly to throw him off balance, Ferdia leaned forward and stepped off the edge, tugging him after her.  He began 
screaming immediately, and she heard the shouts and the collective gasp from 
below as the crowd drew back.  As the stories flew by, she couldn't help but let 
out a whooped 'Wahoo!' and enjoy the exhilaration of the air rushing past her.

The air cushion absorbed their impact completely.  As it slowly deflated, the crowd sighing with relief, the surrounding cops circled the crumpling cushion.  
Casey jabbed Trevor sharply in the ribs, "Pick your jaw up off the floor and put 
your eyes back in their sockets," he advised.

The brown mouse stumbled into view, a handcuff on one wrist, the other cuff dangling open.  He had trouble walking on the bouncing air cushion, and fell as 
Casey and Trevor approached him.  "Get her away from me, man!  She's crazy!"

Ferdia bounded out after him, bouncing like a kid on a moon bounce and laughing like one, too.

"Someone's seen 'Lethal Weapon' a few times too many, methinks," Trevor quipped.

"Having fun, Riggs?"  Casey teased.

"That was SO COOL!  You guys have got to try this!"  She leapt high into the air and landed on her back, laughing as the last bit of air wheezed out of the 
oversized air bag.  Squeaks crossed the cushion and peered down at her, cocking 
his head and raising an eyebrow.  "What?  Don't tell me you've never wanted to 
do something like that, Squeaks."

"It's part of basic training.  Except we had safety harnesses, and didn't laugh quite as much."

"Boo.  Takes all the fun out of it," she crossed her arms. "And don't frown at me.  I ask you - will he EVER even THINK of jumping off a roof again?"

Squeaks looked after the mouse, who was by now babbling incoherently.  "I doubt it.  Interesting strategy."  He offered her a hand and she took it, letting him 
pull her to her feet.

"I agree," Casey grinned, "now what I want to know is, what else do you do for fun, Blue?"

"Just about anything that'll give my insurance agent chronic ulcers and high blood pressure."

"Remind me to read your biography when they write it.  No, wait," he laughed, "On second thought, I'd rather see the movie.  Ought to be one heckuva action 
flick!"

"I doubt you can pay stuntmen enough for some of the stuff those two do,"  Trevor chuckled, rejoining the group.

"Trevor!  Shut up!  You too, Casey!  It's not THAT funny!  Besides, I'm nowhere even NEAR being old enough for a biography!"

"Even better.  We'd get sequels," Squeaks grinned.

Ferdia shook her finger at her partner.  "You wanna WALK back to the precinct, buster?"  She managed to keep a straight face only a few more seconds though, as 
a thought hit her. "Guys," she laughed, "think of who we could get to play 
Vernon..." 

**********

"Captain!  Sir, the computer's found a biomatch on the planet!"

"A biomatch?  Out here?  Are you certain?" Commodore Mallard asked.

"Yes, sir.  99.9% probability of a match.  In practical terms, that's as good as it gets," his science officer responded.

"Indeed?  Who's the match?" he inquired.  This far out, it was probably a retired pirate, hardly worth taking in.  But one never knew.

She brought the match up on her screen.  As she read the information, however, the orange duck's color drained from her face.

"What's wrong, Eva?  You look like you've seen a ghost," Drake, the first officer, observed, moving to her station.  One look at the screen, though, left 
him with the same slack-jawed expression of shock as the science officer wore.  
"It *can't* be..." he breathed.

"What is it?" Commodore asked, leaning forward in alarm.  "WHO is it?"

"It's....it's...." Eva stuttered.

"Captain Squeaks Arcadia, serial number 546327-94F.....Cap'n, it's Ace!"  Drake yelled.

"B-but h-he's dead," Eva managed.  She pointed to an area of the screen.  The computer listed their biomatch as deceased for over six months.

"Ensign Thrush, trace that biomatch and put it onscreen," Commodore ordered.

"Aye, Captain," the ensign punched in the commands for the request, and a population center grid flashed onto the main viewscreen.  A red dot wove through 
the grid.

"Moving pretty fast for a dead man," Commodore observed.  "What exactly does the 
computer list as the cause of death?"

"According to his crew, he was attacked and killed by a native while exploring an uncharted planet," Eva reported.

"Interesting...." the captain began, but was interrupted by his weapons officer.

"Sir, scans of the renegade ship reveal several pirate-class fighters in the cargo bay. The ship's present course will take it straight into the Forbidden 
Zone.  AND sensors indicate an 87% biomatch of the traitor Galaxia."

"Galaxia!  What's that viper up to now?"

"The scan was not powerful enough to analyze that section of the ship's computer banks.  Shall I execute such a scan?"

"Immediately," Commodore said, then peered thoughtfully at the moving red dot.  
"Drake, wasn't Squeaks Spacefleet's foremost expert on the Forbidden Zone and 
the area of space surrounding it?"

"I believe so, sir," his first officer replied.  He, too, was watching the red dot, only with a mixture of skepticism and doubt.  The shock of the previous 
moment had passed, and the reality of what the dot's movement most likely meant 
was beginning to sink in.  "Do you think it's really him?"

"The computer certainly seems to think so.  Perhaps his crew was not as thorough as they should have been in their pronunciation of death."

"Mutiny?  The Squeaks I know would never tolerate such a thing....but he's no deserter, either.  He'd never abandon his career in SpaceFleet for a mundane 
existence on some forsaken little backwater..."

"Let's ask him, then."

"Captain?"

"You, Drake, will go down there and bring him back, if it is indeed Squeaks Arcadia.  We could use his knowledge of the Forbidden Zone if we are to track 
this transport.  And I could never knowingly leave a fellow SpaceFleet officer 
stranded."

"Aye, sir.  Bridge to transporter room," he tapped his combadge, "one to beam 
down at the following coordinates-"

"Sir, our transporters are malfunctioning," the transporter chief replied, "It would be unwise to use them while cloaked."

"In that case, I'll take a shuttlecraft down," Drake said, exiting the bridge.

**********

"Police! Freeze!"

Bullets blazed by the rat on the motorbike as he wove through the sparse patches of nighttime traffic.  ~Don't those two EVER take some time off?~ his mind 
blared.  He'd heard about the jumper on the news and had decided that tonight 
was as good a night for a heist as any, especially since half the city's cops 
were on the other side of town.  He'd been wrong.  The blue-and-white had gotten 
behind him almost immediately.  And the fact that he, Slick, lord of the bikers' 
racetracks, had been unable to lose them secured any lingering suspicions he 
might have had about the pair behind him.

He gunned the motor and swung left through a red light, heading the wrong way on a one-way street at speeds in excess of 80 mph.  The squad car followed, gaining 
on him even as he accelerated down the sidewalk.


**********

"Freeze means STOP!  Pull over!" Ferdia shouted, leaning out the passenger window.  She glanced back inside the car.  "Just once, it would be nice if they 
actually LISTENED to me," she grumbled.

"Now where's the fun in that?"  came the rejoinder.

"Hey -- that's Red Alley up ahead!  It's a dead end!  Quick, Squeaks, get 
alongside him an' force him into the alley!"

"Roger that," Squeaks complied, burying the accelerator.  "But you might want to 
sit down," he suggested, grabbing her belt and pulling her back into the car, 
"and buckle up."

Ferdia shot him a strange look, but tightened the loose seatbelt anyway as they 
pulled alongside the motorbike.  Suddenly, Squeaks cut the wheel sharply and 
slammed on the brakes, sending the car into a dangerous spin.  To avoid them, 
the rat cut into the alley, realized the it dead-ended, and tried to make it out 
of the alley, only to be forced to jump off the bike as the front end of the car 
swung back around, coming to rest blocking the entire alley.

Tossing one stolen sack of gems at the driver as he got out, the rat turned and 
fled on foot.  ~If I can make it over the wall, they'll never catch me!~ he 
puffed, making a beeline for the end of the alley.

He never made it.  Though not fond of football in the least, Ferdia was a mean 
tackle.  She hit the rat at his knees, knocking him facedown onto the pavement 
and sending the remaining sack of gems flying.  The impact with the concrete 
knocked the rat's wind out, and the swirling colors were just coming back into 
focus as she cuffed him and hauled him to his feet.  She glanced at the distant 
clock tower as she did so.  Still dazed, the rat looked over as well.

"Look, Ma, stars....ooooh, lookie, that one's movin'...." he swaggered as he 
tried to track the star.

"Quiet, you. And stay still.  Unless you want to get booked for driving drunk,
too," she chided, turning her attention to her partner as he walked by.  "Hey, 
Squeaks!  It's midnight!"

"Yeah?" the mouse replied, scooping the spilled jewelry back into the sack with 
gloved hands, "So?"

"So, shift's over.  And look at the prowler," she pointed proudly back to the 
car, "not a scratch on it!"


As it's done time and time again in the past and will continue to do in the 
future, upon hearing itself invoked, Murphy's Law swung into action.  No sooner 
were the words out of her mouth when a fireball flashed into existence and 
slammed into the prowler.

**********

When First Officer Drake Duvoy took the shuttlecraft without any crew, he neglected to remember two things.  First, that he hadn't single-handedly flown a 
shuttlecraft since his academy days, let alone track a moving object while 
flying.  And second, it had been years since he had *landed* a shuttlecraft, 
with or without assistance.  He realized this as a dozen alarms screamed to life 
and the automatic anti-collision systems decloaked the small craft and tried in 
vain to nose the craft up in time.  Unfortunately, the systems were too late, 
and the last thing Drake saw before the ship slammed into the ground at just 
under the speed of sound was a blue and white ground vehicle with red flashing 
lights.

**********

At the far end of the alley, all Ferdia and Squeaks could do in the fraction of 
a second before the fiery object slammed into their squad car was turn to run 
further down the alley.  The fireball slammed into the car and nearby motorbike, 
the earth-quaking force of the impact countered only by the heated shockwave 
generated by the explosion.  Bird, mouse, and rat alike were propelled toward 
the brick wall, saved from a bone-shattering impact with the wall only by the 
bags of trash that reached it first and spared from serious burns by the same 
bags.  Within a few moments all that remained was a smoldering lump of charred 
metal inside a crater that had once been a street and part of a building.

**********

Coughing violently and gasping for breath, Ferdia clawed her way out of the 
mound of refuse that had stopped their flight.

"Dam- *cough* dammit, Murphy!  *hack* So *cough* much for *cough* that bet," she 
muttered, doubling over in a violent coughing fit that brought her to her knees.  
Recovering, she stood again, worriedly looking back at the mound.  "Squeaks?  
Are you *cough* okay?"

A trash bag shifted, then rolled over and down the mound as a fist emerged, 
followed by the face of her partner.  Ferdia ran up the mound to help Squeaks 
dig himself out.

"I've never been *cough* more *cough* grateful for an alley full of month-old 
trash in my *hack* life!  You okay?"

"I've just been spit on," she grumbled.

"Bet was *cough* worth that much, huh?" 

"I don't *cough* don't know WHAT it was *hack* worth.  But we made it through a 
*hack* double shift without *cough* without *cough cough cough*..."

"Slow down.  You're *cough* hyperventilating."

"I can't breathe.  My lungs feel like they're *cough* on fire."

"I know.  *cough* Hey, where's our collar?"

The two looked around, then caught sight of the groggy, handcuffed rat. As they 
dug him out, they failed to hear the banging of the ruined shuttlecraft's door 
as its occupant kicked it open.  The first indication they had that anything was 
behind them was when the rat opened his eyes, looked past them, and started 
screaming.

**********

The rat ruined Drake's approached when it saw him and began screaming.  Alerted, 
the blue bird and mouse whirled around to face him, drawing what Drake could 
only assume were weapons.  The bird yelled something at him.  His universal 
translator, damaged but still mostly functioning, told him the squawked 
statement was and order to cease and desist.

Dazed and unsure of his location relative to his objective, Drake was not about 
to let a native order him about.  So what if the two of them both had their 
weapons trained on him.  The phaser cannon he had used to blast his way out of 
the shuttle would be more than adequate to drive them off.  He fired a few 
warning rounds at their feet, sending them scrambling in opposite directions.

The mouse stumbled over the rat as he jumped back to avoid the blasts, falling 
over the rat's prone form and losing his weapon in the process.  He was on his 
feet in an instant, though, in a defensive stance over the rat, who was still 
screaming.  Recognizing the look of someone determined not to back down and 
deciding he was in no mood for a fight, Drake set the gun to stun and leveled it 
at the mouse.

A searing pain tore through his left shoulder, sending his shot wild. A second 
projectile nicked his helmet, followed by another verbal warning from behind 
him.  He'd forgotten about the bird and turned to face her, as the mouse 
searched for his weapon.

She caught him off-guard as he was turning, bull-charging into him and knocking 
him over.  Falling with him, she pinned him on his back and grappled for his 
weapon.  She was breathing heavily, though, and Drake realized the explosion had 
taken its toll on both his adversaries as he felt her strength dissipating.  It 
then dawned on him how lightweight the bird was. He shoved the cannon toward 
her, pushing her off his chest and knocking her off balance.  Jerking the cannon 
back, he planted a foot in her midsection and sent her flying back into the 
singed wall of the alley with a single vicious kick.  She slammed into the wall 
with a squeak, dazed.

He'd lost his grip on the cannon when he'd jerked it back, and it clattered to 
the ground somewhere behind him.  But he didn't have time to look for it -- he 
had to finish her off, at least knock her unconscious to prevent further 
attacks.  He leapt to his feet, grabbing a convenient piece of metal and lunging 
toward the stunned bird.  The mouse (goodness, he'd forgotten about him...) was 
in front of her in an instant, grabbing the pipe as Drake swung it and hanging 
on, slowly wresting it from his grip.

Let him have it, then.  Drake swung the pipe, and the mouse, at the other wall, 
releasing the pipe to let it complete its arch and hearing the satisfying thud 
as pipe and mouse hit the far wall and caused a partial avalanche of the refuse 
mound behind him.

The bird, still dazed, was on her feet again, but cornered against the wall.  
With a quick lunge, he had her by the throat, lifting her off the ground with 
one hand while wresting her weapon from her with the other.  Above the ground 
and out of reach of her kicks, he paused for breath.  Her martial arts training 
showed, but could do little to help her a foot off the ground with one hand 
firmly held by an attacker standing too far away to kick.  Her exhaustion didn't 
help her any, either, and if anyone heard her strangled cries, they were smart 
enough not to interfere.  Her struggles began to weaken.

And then he heard a familiar battle cry.  Startled, he turned, loosening his 
grip on the bird's neck and earning what would surely have been a vicious wound 
from the bird if she had been in a less weakened state as she twisted her head 
down and stabbed his hand with her beak.  Drake barely had time to register this 
injury, however, as a weight came down hard on his back, slamming him hard 
between the shoulders.

As he bent with the pain, dropping the bird, his attacker struck him sharply 
upside his head as he jumped off the duck's shoulders.  Drake reeled and 
stumbled backwards, watching as the mouse flipped in mid-air and kick-turned off 
the wall, bowling into Drake and sending the duck to the ground on his back 
again.

His head struck the ground hard as he landed, too occupied with the mouse to 
catch his fall, and the mouse followed through with a harsh uppercut to Drake's 
bill with what felt like the butt of a weapon.  A foot pressed against his 
throat.  His head throbbing, he realized he was pinned again. Muttering that he 
surrendered, Drake closed his eyes and willed the madly-spinning world to slow 
down.  When the weight on his chest didn't move, he slowly opened them.

And realized he was looking down the barrel of his own laser cannon.  At the 
other end of which was a panting white mouse, bleeding, bruised, and a tad 
singed.  The mouse gave his head a shake to get the sweat, and his hair, out of 
his eyes, and called back to the bird.  And even before the inverted triangle 
that was SpaceFleet's captain's insignia came into focus, Drake remembered why 
the attack seemed familiar.

"That you, Ace?" he asked, as the adrenaline began to wear off and he began to 
truly feel his injuries, "It's me, Drake."

**********

Ferdia was doubled over on her knees, one hand clutching her ribcage as the 
other rubbed her bruised throat.  The world swam before her, and she caught 
herself falling forward.  She propped herself against the alley wall, breathing 
deeply and willing the black spots dancing across her vision to go away.  When 
the spots didn't listen, she closed her eyes to shut them out. Her thoughts were 
a confused jumble that refused to cede her command of them again.  Boy, am I 
tired.  Why won't that rat shut up?  That guy almost killed me.  Damn, my throat 
hurts.  Why won't that rat shut up?

She heard the fighting stop, then heard Squeaks call back to her.  She forced 
one eye open.  "Yeah?" she asked, the word coming out scarcely more than a 
hoarse rumbling.

"I said, Are you okay?"

She tried to answer, but only caused a coughing fit.  Pain shot through her 
chest after each gasp of breath, and now her throat as well as her lungs felt 
like they were on fire.  She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling a tear roll down 
her cheek.  She tasted blood in her mouth.  The coughing subsided, and she 
managed to give her partner a weak smile.

Squeaks returned it with a regretful one, then turned his attention back to the 
duck, who looked unconscious.  Ferdia realized the rat had stopped screaming, 
and looked over at him.  His was crying softly.  He caught sight of her.

"I'll never do anything ever again.  I promise.  I don't want to die," he 
whimpered.

"You're not gonna die," she whispered, testing her voice again.  She pushed 
herself to her feet, leaning against the wall and gulping in air as she waited 
for the vertigo to subside.  It took a few moments, but her head cleared, and 
she stepped away from the wall and unsteadily approached the rat.  She reached 
down and tugged at his arms, more encouraging him to get up than pulling him to 
his feet.

"You lost a tail feather," he said, sitting up but making no move to stand.

"Yeah, well, *cough* as I was saying, you're under arrest.  You have the right 
to remain silent...."  She read him his rights.  Her throat didn't hurt as much 
if she kept talking.

She saw the duck move out of the corner of her eye, and walked over to where 
Squeaks had him pinned.  As she approached, she duck said something, and 
Squeaks' ears flattened back - a sure sign that he was pissed off.  Not just 
angry - the narrow eye-slits told her that - but VERY angry.  And yet he got off 
the duck's chest. 

"Get up," he spat.

The duck propped himself up on his elbows, paused to rub his head a bit, and 
groggily got to his feet.  He looked at her.  She felt herself instinctively 
take a step back into a defensive stance, hissing what would've been a warning 
cry if her throat was working properly.  Squeaks took a protective step back 
toward her, and she saw his scowl deepen as his grip on the duck's weapon 
tightened.  The rat sank to the ground again.

**********

"You've got a LOT of explaining to do," Squeaks glared at the duck, "Do you have 
any IDEA just how many treaties you've violated?"

The duck looked at him dejectedly.  "I'm sorry," he began.

"Sorry?  SORRY?!?" Ferdia yelled, ignoring her throat's protests, "Sorry doesn't 
even begin to CUT it, buddy!  You level a city block, attack two officers on-
scene, unprovoked and with a weapon that CAN'T be legal, and-"

Squeaks put out a hand, shaking his head 'no'.  She stopped in mid-tirade, 
remembering the fireball that had come from nowhere.  This duck wasn't exactly a 
local.

"Really, I AM sorry.  I lost control of my craft," the duck began, "and I didn't 
recognize you."

"That doesn't warrant an attack of that severity, and you know it, Drake," 
Squeaks growled.  "You could've killed us.  You TRIED to kill HER-"

"I didn't mean to, really!  I'm sorry," the duck hung his head.  "I wouldn't 
have done anything if I'd recognized you, Ace, but you're out of uniform.  
Besides, you're supposed to be dead."

At this comment, Ferdia squawked a hawk's attack screech and braced for an 
attack.  Squeaks raised the cannon to eye level and took another step back.  
Alarmed, the duck threw his hands up in defense.

"No, no, I didn't mean it that way!  Your crew - they told us you were dead!  We 
were in orbit for another reason, and our computer found you.  I was sent to see 
if you were really, well, you."

"In that case, you came, you saw, you left," Squeaks lowered the laser cannon.  
"Call your ship and have them beam you up."

"It's....it's not quite as simple as that, Ace," the duck said hesitatingly, "I-
I'm supposed to take you with me."  Another hawk cry from the bluebird.  
"Captain's orders.  We need you to guide us through the Forbidden Zone."

"Tough.  You've got the rest of my crew for guides.  After your performance I'm 
not about to help you.  Why you would want to navigate through the Forbidden 
Zone is beyond me anyway.  The Bagels have colonies there.  You looking to start 
a war?"

"No, prevent a big one.  And you have no choice.  You'll face court martial if 
you don't - not just for disobeying orders but for desertion."

"Desertion!  I didn't desert anybody!  I got ditched here when my crew thought I 
was being attacked and panicked, and nobody's come looking for me for over six 
months!  If Spacefleet says I'm dead, then I'm dead.  And dead men don't take 
orders."

The duck's communicator buzzed.  Indicating the smashed combadge on his chest, 
the duck reached slowly into his jacket, removing another communicator.  It, 
too, had taken some damage, and the distraught voice coming from it was plagued 
by static.

"Drake, are you all right? Have you found him?"

"Sort of," the duck sighed into the communicator, "I found him, but he's not 
being cooperative-"

"Tell him about how you nearly killed my partner and I in an unprovoked attack. 
*That* ought to impress him," Squeaks glowered.

This pronouncement seemed to take the duck by surprise, and he looked from 
Squeaks to Ferdia (who looked as if she would gladly tear Drake to shreds like 
the hawk she sounded to be) and back to Squeaks.

The static coming from the communicator was getting worse.  "Drake?  Are you 
there?  Drake, we have to leave.  We're beam you up now- "

"Oh-ho, NO you DON'T!"  Ferdia yelled.  "I am NOT going to explain a crater the 
size of half a city block, a *melted* prowler, and the fact that I didn't catch 
the guy that did it.  Especially not to the Chief, and ESPECIALLY not without my 
partner!"

If the voice on the other end of the communicator heard her, any response that 
it might have made was drowned out by a wave of static.  Seconds later, the 
world flashed white.

**********

Galaxia Kiwi growled, angrily hurling the tablet across the room with a 
frustrated shout.  The tablet smashed into the opposite wall, scattering its 
components across the floor.  One of the larger pieces skid to a stop by her 
foot, and she kicked it away angrily.  A gray rabbit, younger than her first 
officer but of the same species, cowered near the doorway.

"Someone want to tell me how, out of a dozen contacts, we're only able to get a 
hold of ONE!?!"  Galaxia roared.

"We *were* able to locate one other's extension-" the rabbit squeaked.

"THE EMPRESS OF ESPIONAGE DOES *NOT* TALK TO *MACHINES*!!!"

"Yes, ma'am.  W-We're trying to locate its owner at the moment, but we're not 
having much luck....perhaps the one already on board will be enough?" she asked 
hopefully.

Galaxia grabbed the rabbit by the collar of her uniform, hoisting her off her 
feet and slamming her roughly into the wall.  "NO, he will NOT be enough!  ONE 
lousy pirate is not going to keep the Federation's *entire* navy at bay!  I 
need-"

The cringing rabbit was saved from her captain's tirade by a loud siren 
accompanied by flashing lights.  "Red Alert!  Red Alert!" the computer squawked 
above the sirens.  Galaxia dropped the rabbit to the floor and bolted for the 
bridge.

"What is it?!" she yelled to her weapons officer as she took her place in the 
captain's chair.

"A shuttlecraft just crashed in the population center below us.  It wasn't one 
of ours, and the only way such a craft could avoid our detection at this range 
would be if it were cloaked.  There must be a Duck ship nearby!"

Galaxia leaned forward, squinting at the viewscreen.  "I don't see them."

"They would not still be cloaked if they knew we were alerted to their presence 
- the ship can't fire while cloaked.  But we should not stay here any longer."

"Damn!" she pounded the fists into her chair's armrests.  She needed more 
pirates!  She had no choice - she would have to leave a message with the other 
contact's machine, 'abandoning' a pirate fighter in orbit.  Hopefully the Ducks 
would think she was dumping cargo to gain speed.  "Bridge to Engine Room, 
prepare to break from orbit and accelerate to Warp 6 on my mark." She turned to 
her communications officer, ignoring engineering's protests.  "Get me the other 
contact's number!"

She left a brief but enticing offer on the contact's recording machine, then 
shouted her mark to engineering.  The ship's impulse engines whirred to life 
briefly, tearing the ship out of orbit and swinging it away from the solar 
system as the warp engines built up the necessary charge in the warp core.  
Seconds later the impulse engines cut off, and the crew felt themselves being 
flattened against their seats as the warp engines engaged, sending the ship 
streaking forward at 600 times the speed of light.


Behind them, still orbiting the blue planet, an alarmed ensign reported the 
Duckhawk's departure.  Commodore Mallard, in return, broke with protocol, 
decloaking the ship and hurriedly contacting his first officer.  Decloaked, the 
transporters should work without mishap, and if they hurried, they could catch 
up with the Duckhawk before she changed course and lost them.

**********

The rat lay with his eyes closed, listening as the cops argued with the six-and-
a-half foot duck that wore shades in the middle of the night.  Their voices 
suddenly subsided, and he lifted an eyelid just in time to see the three of them 
bathed in individual shafts of blinding light.  The bluebird shrieked as the 
light hit her, and then the three of them were gone, leaving him alone in a 
smoldering alley with her cry echoing in his head.  After a few moments he 
thought he heard sirens.  He *hoped* they were sirens.

**********

Sore throat or not, Ferdia still managed a startled squawk as a bright light 
flashed, immobilizing her.  She felt a tingling sensation, then a brief period 
of weightlessness, and then felt ground beneath her feet again.  She lowered her 
arms, which she had thrown in front of her face when the light flashed, and 
looked around, forcing herself to relax.

Squeaks was to her right, the duck in front of him.  They were in the middle of 
a round, windowless room with computers lining the walls and on consoles set up 
along the inside of the circle of wall stations.  At each computer sat a duck - 
most were simple white ducks, but she spotted a wood duck and several common 
mallard ducks, along with some beings she didn't recognize.  Most stations faced 
a huge screen set into the wall at one end of the room, although the attention 
of those manning the stations was fixed on the three of them.  A lifetime of 
science fiction movies clicked into place, and she realized she was on the 
bridge of a ship.

A white duck in a red uniform, much like the one the duck that had attacked them 
wore, but with another star on his collar and without the helmet and shades, 
stood from his seat in the middle of the room.  He looked at the three of them, 
his gaze shifting from Squeaks to her, lingering on her for what she felt was an 
uncomfortably long time.  She caught herself rubbing the bruises on her neck, 
and dropped her hand back to her side.  He turned his gaze back to Squeaks, who 
folded his arms defiantly and flicked his tail in annoyance.  He was still 
holding the duck's weapon, she noticed.  The duck in red looked at the duck in 
the helmet, then shook his head, a chuckle escaping his bill.

"Spades," he chuckled, "you three look terrible!"  Ferdia folded her arms as 
well, the only response this comment drew.  The duck in shades looked 
uncomfortable.  The duck in red tried again.  "So, Squeaks, is that really you?"

"In the fur," Squeaks glared.

"Come on, don't say you don't recognize me?  Commodore Mallard!  Welcome aboard 
my ship!"  The scowls did not abate.  "Come now, be civil."

"Civil?  CIVIL?  Mallard, he tried to kill us!"  Squeaks yelled.

The duck in shades backed up a step, waving his hands in front of him.  "I 
didn't recognize you!"

"What, so it's okay to attack our citizens as long as you don't KNOW them?!?"  
Ferdia spat, her shout coming out as hardly more than a hoarse whisper.

"We deeply apologize for the manner in which you were brought here," a tan duck 
interjected, "but we are pressed for time and need your assistance," she 
explained, "we are chasing a ship, possibly a pirate, into the Forbidden Zone."

"Yes," Commodore interrupted her, "and we must hurry if we are not to lose it.  
Engine room!  Full power!  Take us out of orbit and accelerate to Warp 8!"  

The ship slid obligingly out of orbit, appeared to drift a moment, then engaged 
its warp engines.  Caught off guard and still standing as the ship leapt into 
warp speed, Ferdia lost her balance, stumbling back into Squeaks, who had also 
failed to brace himself for the acceleration and dropped the cannon as he, too, 
lost his balance.  The duck in shades dodged out of their way as they fell back, 
toppling into the lap of the tan duck seated in one of the plush chairs similar 
to the captain's.

The ship's acceleration slowed as it neared, then achieved, Warp 8, and the two 
slid to the floor.

Squeaks leaned against the chair's support and rubbed the back of his head.  
"I'd forgotten about that part," he allowed, then looked at his partner with 
concern.  "You okay?"

Doubled over and hugging her ribcage, eyes squeezed shut, Ferdia nodded.  
Knowing a nod wouldn't convince her partner, she opened her eyes and smiled 
weakly.  "Just hit a sore spot on the way down."  She winced.

She fooled the tan duck about as well as she fooled Squeaks.  "Captain, the 
three of them belong in sickbay," she said, helping Squeaks lift Ferdia to her 
feet.

"Very well, Counselor.  You may take them there."  Commodore tapped his 
combadge, informing sickbay of incoming patients.

**********

Ivan slouched in the chair, leaning a cheek in one hand and drumming his fingers 
on the polished table in front of him and glaring at the nervous young rabbit by 
the door.  "The trouble with being punctual," he muttered, "is that there's 
never anyone around to appreciate it."  His sign holder turned from gazing out a 
viewport and nodded in agreement.

Now, the Evil Sir Ivan Kiwi was a patient bird, for a criminal mastermind.  But 
he did not like to be kept waiting.  It annoyed him, and Ivan was not the sort 
of person you wanted to annoy.  So, when the door finally opened, allowing the 
rabbit to escape as Galaxia entered, it was all he could do to keep his temper 
in check.

"Nice of you to finally grace us with your presence," he greeted Galaxia 
testily, "So, tell me, does everyone have cloaking devices but me, or did 
someone cancel the meeting and forget to tell me?"

"Quiet," she snapped.

"Careful, sister.  I've killed for less than that," Ivan retorted.  "Much less."

She whirled on him.  "We were not able to reach anyone else, all right?!"

"Think it might have something to do with the fact that you were calling in the 
middle of the night?"  He put his hands behind his head, leaning back in the 
chair and putting his feet on the table.  "Not everyone's as gracious as I am at 
a quarter to midnight."

"Most of them were listed as deceased."

"Oh....right.  Heh.  Forgot about that." She looked at him quizzically.  "Let's 
just say we villains had a bit of an epidemic a couple of months ago.  Took most 
of the major players off the map," he explained.

"And yet, here you are." 

"You really do need to watch your mouth, duck.  I'm alive 'cause I was smart 
enough to know where not to be and when not to be there."  And the fact that my 
arch nemesis was tagging along instead of my sign holder didn't hurt, either, he 
added silently.  "So what's the deal?"

"Easy.  We are going to lead a sneak attack against the Federation, striking 
them when and where they least suspect it with a weapon they know nothing about.  
All YOU have to do is draw their forces away from our target."

"And all I get for risking my tail and starting a war is a dinky little ship?"

"It's a good ship!  Any pirate could steal a fortune with that ship!"

"It's dinky.  You've got five of 'em in your shuttle bay, an' your ship's not 
that big - only slightly above average size."  She stared at him.  "You really 
shouldn't keep your guests waiting so long," he told her, "We tend to have 
interesting ways of entertaining ourselves."

"That would explain who hacked their way into the main computer an hour ago...." 
she muttered.

"An idle mind is a dangerous thing.  Now, about my payment...."

"I really *don't* have anything else to give you," she said through clenched 
teeth.

"You've got four more fighters."

"Three.  We left one on the off-chance the other party we were able to contact 
decides to accept our offer."

"You have nothing of value and yet you ditch a ship?  THAT sure tells me they're 
worth a lot," Ivan snorted.

"You want the other three?  TAKE the other three.  I'm not the one that paid for 
'em anyway."

"Now you're starting to see things my way," Ivan smiled.  "So, tell me more 
about where we're going and what this weapon is...."

**********

The car hadn't even come to a complete stop before Casey was out and running 
through the ruins of 4th street.  Buildings on both sides of the street were 
leaning at dangerous angles.  Some had toppled; most were still smoldering.  A 
sloping crater near what had been commonly referred to as Red Alley marked it as 
the probable ground zero.  A small homeless crowd was gathering around the 
crater, and Casey was suddenly very thankful that this block had consisted 
mainly of condemned buildings - whatever the death toll was now, it would've 
been much higher in a heavier-trafficked area.   He slowed as he neared the 
crowd, approaching the crater and peering through the smoke at the twisted metal 
below.

Airplane crash.  Had to be.  "Anyone see what happened?  Where the plane came 
from, what it looked like?"

"Weren't no plane," one of the bums said, his words slightly slurred, "t'were a 
meteor."

"A meteor?" Casey couldn't keep the skepticism out of his voice.

"Yeah, a big fireball, just like the movies," said another.  Several more nodded 
in agreement.

Casey peered into the pit again.  He still thought he could make out the 
fuselage of an airplane.  "If it was a meteor, why's a tail fin sticking out of 
that heap?" he asked them.

"Dunno, man.  Mebbe it's parta th' car."

"Car?  What car?  It hit a car?"  Having given up on trying to find a closer 
place to park, Trevor jogged up to the group.

"One 'a yours."

"One of OURS?!?" the partners chorused.  Trevor took a closer look at the pit.

"Yeah, they wuz chasin' some dude down th' alley-"

Casey dashed around the crater and into the alley, then shouted for his partner.  
Trevor left the crowd to the two other squad cars just arriving and went into 
the alley.

The stench of burned refuse immediately assailed his nostrils, tearing up his 
eyes and blurring the scene in front of him.  As his vision cleared, he felt his 
jaw drop.  "Jeez, what happened here?" he breathed.

The alley looked like a war zone -- scorched garbage bags scattered everywhere, 
some split open and spilling their contents into the wind.  Small patches of 
blood dotted the floor and walls, and a service revolver lay near a mountain of 
bags.  He thought he could make out a couple of bullet holes along the walls - 
fortunately none close to the circles of blood.  He heard a scuffling sound 
behind him, away from where Casey was.  He whirled, training his gun at the 
source of the sound.

"Don't shoot me!  I didn't do it, I swear!" a voice yelled.

Trevor lowered his gun, looking at the prone form of a rat.  A handcuffed rat. 
He jerked the rat to his feet.  "What happened here?"

Before the rat could answer, he heard Casey curse softly behind him, and turned 
to see why.  At his partner's feet was a single blue feather.  The orange finch 
walked up to their only suspect, glaring at the rat.  "Where are they?"

"I didn't do it!"

Casey grabbed the rat's shirt and slammed him into the wall.  "WHERE *ARE* 
THEY?"

"I DON'T KNOW!" the rat sobbed, "They caught me an' cuffed me, an' then this 
thing blows up their car an' this big huge duck guy comes out and attacks them 
an' then everybody started shootin' an' then they knocked 'im down an' then they 
all disappeared!" 

"Whaaat?"  Trevor eased Casey away from the hysterical rat. This was not the 
time for his partner to lose his temper.  "Slow down, you're not making any 
sense."

"Where are they?" Casey repeated.

"I don't know!  After they beat the duck, they said somethin' to him-"

"What'd they say?"

"I don't know, I didn't hear it!  But then this bright light flashed, an' they 
disappeared!"

"What d'ya mean, they disappeared?!"

"I don't know, they just disappeared!  You know, as in, Scotty, beam me up!"

"Case, enough," Trevor said, taking hold of the rat and leading him out of the 
alley. "The forensics people need to look this place over, and we need to take 
this guy to the station anyway.  Maybe he'll remember more then."

"Figures our only real witness is high on something," he heard his partner 
mutter as they headed out of the alley.

**********

"*Bzzzt!*  Good morning, California!  It's gonna be hot hot hot today, with a 
high of -"

Bob Kiwi rolled over and swatted at the radio.  Unfortunately, he succeeded only 
in knocking it to the floor, not shutting it up, and after a few more minutes of 
the DJ's cheery banter he decided to put an end to his suffering and get up.  He 
shuffled through his morning routine in the dim light filtering through the 
curtains, unwilling to turn on a light and too tired to raise the shades.

He made his way to the kitchen and fumbled with the coffeemaker.  Ten minutes 
and one pot of coffee later, Bob was awake and once again ready to take on the 
world.  Grabbing his detective hat, he strolled out of his apartment, rode the 
elevator to ground floor, and headed off in the direction of his office.

The weatherman was right, he though to himself, it *is* a nice day - sunny and 
warm, with a slight breeze and absolutely NO smog.  He noticed the crowds around 
newsstands and an unusually high number of police on the sidewalks and roads, 
and briefly wondered if he should have stopped to read the news -- it looked 
like someone important was coming to town.  He shrugged to himself.  He'd read 
the paper at work.

The building that housed Bob's detective agency was quiet - an unusual 
occurrence that was due mostly to the fact that a large amount of the area's 
kingpins had recently taken permanent vacations.  That, and the fact that the 
Evil Sir Ivan Kiwi had been out of town recently, which always marked a slump in 
crime.  The week had been a slow one so far - a few background checks and a 
fact-finding mission for an orphan convinced she was related to the governor.  
Bob fully expected the rest of the week to follow suit.


His hopes of a slow week were shattered the moment he walked into the office. 
As opposed to the quiet, deserted hallway, the office was a frenzied state of chaos.  A dozen cops combed through the office, searching case files - 
regardless of whether the files were closed, opened, and unstarted.  As Bob 
looked for someone he recognized, Ferdie came out of his room, cradling a cell 
phone as he followed a pair of cops carrying boxes of files.

"Come on, guys, you really don't need to look through ALL our files!  She didn't 
even send that many over to us, anyway, and they were all minor things, like 
lost pets or something!  Stuff you don't have time for, that's all!  Why don't 
you look through her files at the precinct?"

"We ARE," the green bird replied, "and while we're probably not going to find 
anything here, I for one am not about to spend a month going through her cases 
searching for this guy.  You've got a lot less files."

"Yes, but I'm also the easier guy to hit.  You'd like need an army to go after 
Sis," Ferdie replied.  The cell phone shrieked.  Wincing, he emphatically shook 
his head and spoke into the phone.

"No, no, Ma, I was speaking metaphorically!  There's not an army after 
her!....No, Ma, nobody's after me, either....Ma!  Calm down!  She's fine!.....I 
don't care WHAT the papers say!....Look, here, ask the police, they'll tell 
you!"

He held the phone out to an orange cop nearby.  "Here, Casey, YOU talk to her 
for a minute, okay?  Tell her my sister's okay."

"But we don't know where they are, much less if they're okay," Casey said 
apologetically, "We don't even know what really happened!  All we know is the 
only real witness is screaming something about a duck built like Aucknald 
Schwartzenager."

"MA DOESN'T KNOW THAT!.....Look, just tell her the papers are wrong and Ferdia 
didn't get squashed by a meteor or abducted by aliens or whatever!"  Ferdie 
pleaded, holding out the phone.  "Come on, someone else needs to talk to her, 
she's not believing me.  You and Ferdia worked together, maybe she'll believe 
you.  I don't care *what* you tell her!  Just tell her *something*!"

Casey sighed and took the phone.  "Hello, Mrs. Birdie?  This is Officer 
Redwall....yes, Casey, that's right...."


Relieved at not having to talk to his hysterical mother for a while, Ferdie 
walked up to Bob, who was still standing in the middle of the lounge with a 
confused expression on his face.

"Hi, Bob!  Uh, Ferdia and Squeaks disappeared last night under, uh...suspicious 
conditions, and the police think they might be in trouble, so they're searching 
our files."

"Waitaminute!  THEY disappear, THEY're in trouble, and the cops're searching OUR 
files?"  He scratched his head.  "I don't understand."

Trevor plopped a box into Ferdie's arms.  "Here, these are your solved 'missing 
pet' cases.  We don't need 'em."

"Great," Ferdie muttered, staggering from the weight of the box, "Guess I'll 
just put them back, then....wherever they went..."

"What're you looking for?" Bob asked.

"Witness identified a six-foot tall duck in a biker hat and dark glasses.  Blood 
samples from the crime scene place two avians and one mouse there, and the mouse 
and one avian sample matches Squeaks' and Ferdia's samples on file, so we're 
assuming the witness wasn't as stoned as he appeared to be.  Any of your files 
mention a six-foot-tall duck?"

"Oh, and *I* couldn't tell you that?!?" Ferdie demanded indignantly.

"I don't think so..." Bob began.

"Hey!" a cop yelled from further inside the office, "Where's the key to this 
door?"

"Oh, that's Iiwi's office.  She doesn't keep any files in there," Ferdie said.  
"The ones she's finished, she puts on our shelves, and the ones she's working 
on, she takes with her.  But she doesn't have any open cases right now - she 
finished them all before she went on vacation last week."

"You don't have a key?"

"Sure we do....we just don't know where it is.  But Iiwi's due back in today, so 
she'll let ya in when she gets here."

"I'll let who in where?" a voice asked.  Perched on the windowsill was Iiwi.

"They need to get in your office," Bob told her.

"Oh, but I don't have the key," she said, "I usually just fly in through the 
window.  But I'll go in and look for it anyway," she added, hopping outside and 
flitting to her office's window.

**********

Iiwi opened the window and hopped inside, making a precursory sweep of the area 
to make sure there wasn't anything incriminating in the office.  There was 
nothing illegal about being a bounty hunter, as long as you could convince the 
authorities that everyone you went after was wanted by the law.  But third 
parties often had more interesting or lucrative jobs - as well as a way of 
paying for services with rare and valuable things - and she wanted to be sure 
the 'payments' that decorated her office were not too obvious in their values.

As she looked them over, her gaze traveled to the answering machine on her desk.  
The light was on -- odd, she rarely got messages on this line.  Thinking it 
better to listen to it before the cops could, she pressed play.  The machine 
identified the caller as a Galaxia Kiwi, calling at around midnight the night 
before.  Interesting.  The voice that spoke from the machine was not one she 
recognized.

"Greetings, Iiwi.  I am Galaxia Kiwi, captain of the Duckhawk.  I desire your 
services in a matter or galactic importance.  If you are interested, you will 
find the equipment that will take you to a ship in San Viano's Post Office Box 
#667.  The ship will automatically take you to rendezvous with me; you are 
invited to bring along anyone you think will be able to be of service, as you 
will require a crew.  As payment for helping me, you will receive the ship and 
any goods you acquire with it.  If you choose to reject this offer, destroy this
message and send the ship back empty.  Also, this is a matter that requires 
the utmost secrecy -- if a duck should approach you about it, you are to deny 
any knowledge of me or this message.  I await your reply."

Iiwi played the strange message again, then deleted it.  It was highly unusual 
for someone to leave such a message on this line - most used her secure line for 
that purpose.  She went to the door, wondering about the curious P.O. box number 
for a moment before she remembered that Ivan had box 666.  Unlocking the door, 
she opened it and walked out, waving the waiting cops into her office.

"Here ya go, but you're not gonna find...whatever it is you're looking for," she 
said, realizing that she didn't know what they were here *for*.  But they were 
searching everyone's office, so it couldn't be of much concern for her.

"Thought you didn't have a key," one of the cops scowled at her.

"I don't.  I picked the lock," she shrugged, walking past him towards her fellow 
detectives, "Hey, guys, I gotta go to the post office, okay?" she flew to the 
window.

"But you just got here!" Bob yelled after her.

"Yeah, well....it hadn't opened yet!  I'll be right back!"

**********

Iiwi flew back to the office, the gadget from the post office clenched in her 
small talons.  This thing looks straight out of Star Trek, she thought.  The 
size of a pager, it looked like a cross between a cell phone and a walkie-
talkie.  ~ A dead runner for a communicator if I ever saw one! ~ she told 
herself.

Folding her wings in close, she dove toward the office's open window.  Her 
mystery caller could wait a while - she wanted to know what the cops had been 
looking for in the office, now that they were gone.  They *had* to be gone - it 
had taken her all morning and most of the afternoon to locate the post office 
box in question.

Her caller could have had the courtesy to mention exactly *which* of San Viano's 
twelve post offices the box was at, not to mention the combination of the box.  
After arguing with a postal employee for an hour, she'd stormed off to see if 
she could pick the lock, only to find the box had had its combination entered in 
already and only needed a quarter turn to open it.

She landed in the middle of the lounge, in front her two sulking partners.  "Hi, 
guys!"

"And where have *you* been?"  Ferdie grumbled from a beat-up recliner.

"At the post office," she said, "Really.  Had to check a box, and forgot which 
post office it was at.....So, did the cops find what they were lookin' for?"

"No, just like I knew they wouldn't, just like I told them they wouldn't.  I 
really think I'd remember it if some duck twice my size threatened me."

"I think I'd remember him even if he didn't threaten me," Bob observed, placing 
another empty coffee cup on a growing stack.

"Wait.  They were looking for a duck?  Why?"

"Sis and Squeaks went missing last night.  Sometime after midnight a fireball or 
airplane or whatever smashed into their car, and, according to the guy they were 
arresting, this six-foot-something duck came out like the Terminator.  Then the 
three of them disappear in a flash of light."

"Come again?"

"You heard me.  Cops have no clue where to start - they have a set of 
fingerprints that don't match any on file anywhere, a description from a guy in 
therapy, and a melted pile of metal that's either the weirdest military aircraft 
yet or a very sophisticated meteor.  Ma was so freaked out she screamed 'til she 
fainted and somebody here decided to sedate her."

"Wow.  And a duck did this?"

"Why the hell does that matter!?!  My sister's missing!"

"Don't yell at me!  It matters 'cause I got a message from a Galaxia Kiwi last 
night around midnight, and she warned me about a duck!" 

Ferdie sat bolt upright.  "WHAT?!"

"Hey, what's that in your footness?" Bob asked, seeing the gizmo she carried.

"It's what was in the box Galaxia told me to look for.  I think it's a 
communicator or something.  I'm supposed to use it to contact a ship."

"Wait.  Back up.  What do you mean, a ship?"

"She means a spaceship, right Iiwi?" Bob asked eagerly, "Anyone named Galaxia 
MUST be from outer space!"

"Yeah.  She said the ship was mine if I took the job, and I could bring anyone I 
wanted with me."

"Wait a minute.  Wait a minute!  This is ridiculous!  Are you suggesting my 
sister's been abducted?!"

"Hey, that flash of light could be a transporter!" Bob yelled.

"Hey, EARTH TO TREKKIES, that stuff AIN'T REAL!!!"

"Are you saying interstellar space travel isn't real?  You, whose sister's 
partner is an alien?"

"That's not fair, Iiwi."

"Sure it is.  Besides, I'm not saying they were abducted or anything.  But this 
Galaxia warned me about the ducks at approximately the same time your sister and
Squeaks were attacked by one, and I'm willing to bet the 'meteor' was a ship or 
something.  And it follows that wherever the duck flashed to, Ferdia and Squeaks 
went as well, right?  So, if this Galaxia knows where we could find these ducks, 
we would know where to look for your sister, right?"

"Yeah...." Ferdie said, considering what she'd said.

"So, what do you say?  Is it worth a look?"

"Exactly what 'job' does she want you to do, Iiwi?"  Ferdie asked.  Though she'd 
never admitted as much to them, he and Bob were almost certain their partner 
occasionally took part in less-than-admirable pursuits.

"I dunno.  She didn't say.  But I could always turn it down."

"Great!  Let's boldly go where no kiwi has gone before!" Bob yelled.

"Just what I've always wanted - a trip with Captain Kirk and Uhura," Ferdie 
muttered.

"Come on, Bones, don't be a stick in the mud," Iiwi teased.

"Bones?  Can't I be Spock instead?"

"Whatever."

"Great, then let's get to the Enterprise.  Scotty, three to beam up!"

"And he says WE watch too much Star Trek," Bob said, adjusting his hat.

**********

"I can't believe you just let her walk out of here."

"I'm sorry, doctor.  But she DID look much better, and she said you said she 
could leave." 

"Well, I *DIDN'T*, so go find her!"

**********

Ferdia sat in a darkened corner of the Twelve Forward lounge, leaning on the 
viewport's sill and gazing out at the stars flying by.  The lounge was otherwise 
deserted, its other occupants having left hours ago to start their shifts or 
rest up for their next one.  Thinking they were the last to leave, an ensign had 
turned the lights out a while ago, failing to notice the bluebird in the corner 
watching the cosmos go by.

The redheaded doctor in sickbay had told her she had some bruised ribs in 
addition to the damage done to her throat.  She'd been given a shot with some 
type of needle-less needle that somehow sped up her body's healing rate, and had 
felt fine within an hour.   She'd then been given a chance to shower and change.  
The doctor had even yielded to her insistence that her torn uniform be cleaned 
and returned to her.  The washed uniform had been returned almost immediately, 
and she'd quickly donned it and departed.  She hated hospitals, even space-age 
ones, and hadn't wanted to stay any longer than she had to.

Squeaks and the duck hadn't been there when she'd left - she'd been deemed the 
one most in need of medical attention and had been attended to first.  Her 
partner had been arguing with the duck as she was taken into an examination 
room; both were gone when she came out, and a brief survey of sickbay hadn't 
turned up either of them.

But the lack of a guide hadn't stopped her -- she'd simply wandered around the 
ship for a while, ignoring the curious looks the crew gave her and relying on 
her memories of Star Trek to navigate through the ship and use the turbolift.  
She'd stumbled across engineering somewhere along the way, and had amused an 
engineer with her curiosity enough that he'd shown her around for a while, 
explaining systems and gadgets until he'd been called back to work.  She'd then 
found her way to the lounge and dozed off at the viewport, only to awaken to an 
empty lounge and a handful of planets drifting by the screen.

She rubbed her throat, noting that it no longer hurt.  She smiled, making a 
mental note to find out what the medication she'd been given was - a recovery 
counted in hours instead of days was *definitely* a medical breakthrough she 
liked.

Her smile faded as she realized none of the planets or stars streaking by looked 
even remotely familiar.  Remembering the speed the ship's captain had ordered 
the ship to when they were on the bridge, the reality of just how far from home 
she really was dawned on her.  ~ Poor Ferdie, ~ she thought absently ~ If anyone 
tells Ma I'm missing, she'll have a nervous breakdown and call him up and drive 
him nuts. ~

"Thought I'd find you here.  Any particular reason you're sitting in the dark?" 
a familiar voice inquired.  Standing silhouetted in the doorway was Squeaks.

"Stars look better this way."

"True," he laughed, crossing the darkened lounge, "Feeling okay?"

"Never better.  Wish our hospitals could heal ya this fast.  Hey," she added, 
noticing her partner's gray-green attire, "You're out of uniform."

He shook his head, smiling sadly.  "They impounded it.   I'm surprised they let 
you keep yours."

"I had that whole primitive-local-needs-consistency thing working for me.  So 
that's, what, one of their uniforms?"

"Kind of. Regulation attire for a Spacefleet officer of my race.  It's...one of 
my old ones," he said.  ~ Except I don't remember feeling so awkward in it. ~  
He tugged the shirt down, adjusting it a bit.  "Half the ship is looking for 
you, you know that?"

"Really?  Why?"

"Something to do with you walking out of sickbay without an escort.  The 
computer couldn't locate you either, which was unusual.  Where've you been?"

"Here and there.  How'd you find me?"

"Lucky guess.  This place has the best view on the ship.  Other than the bridge, 
that is.  And you obviously weren't there."

"Ah.  Took you a while."

"Hey, I had to listen to the captain chew me out for a few hours before I could 
start looking."

"Why?"

"A little thing called desertion.  Ships' records listed me as dead, but there I 
was, alive and well on some uncharted planet.  Not only is it suspicious, it's 
grounds for court-martial until they track down my crew and straighten things 
out."

"They came all this way to court-martial you?  Seems like an awful waste of 
time."

"No, they came all this way trailing someone named Galaxia.  Finding me was an 
accident.  Oh, it gets better," he continued as his partner began to object, 
"This Galaxia's recruited a Sir Ivan Kiwi for purposes unknown."

"Ivan?'

"And someone else, evidently.  You've got to be hungry.  Come on, I'll explain 
it over dinner."

"Breakfast."  She checked her watch.  "No, wait - lunch."

"Whatever."

**********

"YEEEEE-HA!"

"AAAAAAA!!!!!  ASTEROID!!!"

"TOO FAST!!! TOO FAST!!!!!"

"Oh, you guys are no fun.  We've got shields to take care of that stuff."

"AAAAAAAAAAA!!!! SUN!!!!!"

"Whoops!"

Iiwi swerved the small ship away from the fast-approaching star, re-activating 
autopilot to calm her friends down.  The ship swung around, arcing its way back 
onto its programmed flight path and heading away from the asteroid belt.

"Iiwi!" Ferdie yelled from behind a console, "We're here to find my sister, NOT 
to give me heart failure!"

"Ooooh, at least you can't feel the speed when the computer's flying," Bob 
mumbled from the floor.

"Everybody's a critic."

**********

General Creme' paced impatiently across the bridge of his ship.  Galaxia was 
running late.  Where *was* she?  He hoped she hadn't run into the Ducks on her 
way to their rendezvous point, but the more he thought about it, the more that 
seemed the only reason for her tardiness.  Galaxia was a spy, not a soldier - 
she was crafty, but not quite military material.   She knew better than to 
betray their agreement, and was not fully aware of the value of the weapon she 
carried.

He muttered a silent curse.  He'd warned the Council to send someone with 
military training with her.  Fancy ship or no, an unskilled captain was no match 
for the Ducks' patrol ships.  And he didn't trust Galaxia's security officer, 
D'Gal, the only true warrior aboard the Duckhawk.  D'Gal cared nothing for the 
Bagels' carefully-laid plans; the only thing that mattered to him was extracting 
revenge on the Ducks for banishing him.

**********

Drake looked over his shoulder at the scowling bird behind him.  "Come on, I 
said I was sorry," he offered.  Her scowl only deepened.  He turned to the mouse 
walking beside him.

"Hey, Ace, how long does she hold a grudge?  Ballpark figure."

"Can't say that I've ever seen her hold a grudge against anyone," Squeaks 
answered, "although no one's ever tried to kill her and then said it wasn't 
personal before."

"And I see you're still holding that against me as well," Drake sighed.  "Is it 
so hard to believe that I didn't recognize you?  I mean, none of us had ever 
seen you out of uniform before, and that mangled tail of yours isn't very 
noticeable in the dark...."

"Where are we going, anyway?" the bluebird inquired, coming up beside Squeaks 
and leaving as much space as possible between her and Drake as the trio stepped 
into a turbolift.

Drake ordered the lift to the bridge.  "The captain wants you on the bridge.  
We're about to overtake the other ship."

**********

"Captain!  Ship de-cloaking to starboard!  They're preparing to fire!"

"Evasive maneuvers!"  Galaxia yelled as the first two yellow phaser blasts 
streaked toward her ship.  Too late to dodge, she realized.  "Shields up!  Brace 
for impact!"  The beams hit the starboard shields, just in front of the 
Duckhawk's right warp engine.

"They're aiming for our engines!  Without our shields....!"

"Sound red alert!  Come out of warp and return fire!"

The ship slid out of warp with a jolt, as two more phasers hit the shields.  
Their attacker disappeared briefly, blinking into existence seconds later as the 
Ducks also slowed from warp and doubled back.  As the Duckhawk launched its 
first volley of phaser blasts at the duck-shaped ship, Galaxia heard the bridge 
doors slide open.

"Hey!  What's with the turbulence?" Ivan demanded, stopping short as he saw the 
ship on the viewscreen.  "Oh.  In that case, I'm outta here.  Hard to be a 
diversion when you're sitting in a shuttle bay and all..." he said, backing back 
onto the turbolift.

"He doesn't stand a chance out there," her black-feathered security officer 
smirked.  "They'll pick those little fighters off one by one."

"I can't afford to lose him just yet!" Galaxia yelled.  The Ducks' ship was now 
firing a constant stream of energy blasts at them, and their shields were 
beginning to falter.  "Can't we fire anything *bigger* at them?"

"With pleasure," Commander Charles D'Gal said with an evil grin.  "Firing phase-
modulating photon torpedoes.  They'll slide right through their shields."

**********

Commodore Mallard's eyes widened as two ice-blue streaks sailed toward his ship 
underneath the stream of phaser bursts.  "Phase modulators!  Fire 
countermeasures!  Brace for impact!"

A small decoy slid into view, then exploded as the first torpedo collided with 
it.  The second arced around the explosion and buried itself in the belly of the 
ship, obliterating a section of the science wing and badly damaging one of the 
warp engines.

"That little pest!  What's she doing with those?"  Drake sputtered from his 
seat.

"I don't know, but let's see how she likes it!  Fire torpedoes!"

**********

"Hey, you!"  Ivan yelled at the gray rabbit running past him.

"Me, sir?"  She asked meekly.

"Yeah, you.  You're one of this ship's pilots, right?  Take me to the shuttle 
bay!"

"B-but I need to get to the bridge!"  She stammered.  "Galaxia will be angry 
with me!"

"Forget Galaxia.  I need a crew, and you'll do for now.  Now MOVE IT!"

"Y-yes sir!"

**********

"Oooh, look, fireworks!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Bob, there aren't any fireworks in spa--AAAA!!!!" 
 
"What?  What is it?"

"Iiwi, LOOK!  We're headed straight for a war zone!  Put the autopilot back on!"

"It IS on....maybe the ship we're supposed to meet with is one of those two?"

"AAAAA!!!! TURN IT OFF!! TURN IT OFF!!!!"  Her partners screamed as the 
autopilot plunged the ship straight into the heart of the battle, heading 
towards the shuttle bay of the oblong ship.

"Shields up!"

"LOOK OUT!!!!!"

As they streaked towards the opening shuttle bay, a trio of small ships darted 
out of it.  The detectives screamed. Slapping off the autopilot, Iiwi yanked the 
control stick hard, flipping the ship into a loop and barely missing the three 
ships.

She heaved a sigh of relief and collapsed back into her chair, thankful that the 
warring ships weren't firing at them.  Ferdie stood rooted to the spot, eyes 
bugged out, pointing dumbly at the screen as his beak quivered, unable to speak.  
Bob fainted.

**********

"We can't take much more of this!" D'Gal yelled, scowling at the readouts.  
"Shields are holding up just fine against their phasers, but our hull can't take 
many more torpedoes!  *And* we've run out of *our* torpedoes!"

"The Ducks shouldn't even *have* those torpedoes, let alone be *using* them!  
They're illegal!  That's why *we* have them!!"

"Be that as it may, Captain, we're still losing."

"Don't we have *anything* else to hit them with?!?" 

A slow, shark-like grin spread across French Commander Charles D'Gal's face.  
"Actually, Captain, we do."

**********

"Captain, the Duckhawk has ceased firing!"

"Good.  Either they've resigned themselves to the inevitable or we've knocked 
out their power generators.  Open a channel to them.  And get those little 
fighters in a tractor beam!"  Commodore yelled.

"Yes, sir!"

"Well, Squeaks, looks like we won't be needing your help in the Forbidden Zone 
after all," Commodore started.

"Hey!  What's that glow coming out of their shuttle bay?" Ferdia interrupted, 
pointing to a red circle of light that hadn't been there a moment ago.

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about, dear.  Just red alert or emergency lights 
or something like that."

"Emergency lights don't pulse like that, Commodore," Squeaks countered, peering 
at the viewscreen, "they might be readying another attack."

"With what?  They don't have anything left to throw at us," Drake scoffed.

**********

"FIRE!"  Galaxia yelled, pounding her fists into her chair's armrests.  True, 
this was not how the stolen weapon was supposed to be tested, but....

**********

"Hey!  Why'd you stop us?"  Ivan demanded.

"I-it wasn't me, sir!  We're caught in a tractor beam!" the young rabbit, a Dust 
Bunny named Lita, replied, her fingers flying across the control panel in a vain 
effort to break the beam's hold.  "We're stuck!"

**********

"AAAAA!!!!  TRACTOR BEAM!!!!!!"

"Bob, really, get over it.  No one's gonna shoot us while we're in a tractor 
beam.  And they really don't have beams that will pick you up and throw you 
around the room.  I think..."

"Look! THEY'RE shooting something!"

**********

The red pulsating glow grew and intensified, fed by the strange contraption 
perched in the Duckhawk's shuttle bay.  The ship's lights flickered as it tapped 
the Duckhawk's energy resources, then came back at full intensity as the red 
concentric rings disappeared.

The occupants of the various ships stared at their viewscreens, wondering what 
had happened to the light.  Many voiced their misgivings about its disappearance 
('I have a baaaaad feeling about this...').  The ships' lights flickered again, 
and scanners all registered a drop in the amount of power coursing through the 
ships, but the void onscreen remained blank save for ships and stars.

Suddenly the space in the center of the clustered ships began to twist and 
contort.  Bursting open, it ensnared the ships in a mass of fiery rings that 
spread out like ripples in a pool.  It began to implode, dragging them along 
with it like a fiery black hole as it drew back into itself.  It spiraled shut 
and winked out of existence, leaving nothing on the battlefield save the stars 
and empty void of space.

The ships were gone.

**********

Seconds later and millions of light-years away, the fabric of space stretched 
and contorted, spiraling into a flame-colored whirlpool that spit out a ship 
before disappearing once again.  The Duckhawk tumbled through space for a brief 
moment as its systems fought to regain control of the craft and halt its motion.

Galaxia picked herself off the floor, smoothing her hair over and dusting 
herself off, determined to maintain at least *some* of her dignity.  Her crew 
slowly hauled themselves to their feet, and amid their groans and complaints she 
heard very few reports of actual injury.  But that was not her primary concern.  
What occupied her attention now was the starscape on the screen.

"Where *are* we?"

"Right smack dab in the middle of nowhere," D'Gal commented, comparing the stars 
on screen to the many maps in the computer.  "Alone, I might add."

The Ducks were nowhere in sight.  Neither were any of the fighters.  And as 
systems came back online and reports began to come through, it became evident 
that they were no longer anywhere near the regions of space familiar to her.  
They were in an area devoid of both life and landmarks.  An uncharted area.  
Galaxia was suddenly very thankful for her ship's huge fuel supply.

"Was that gizmo *supposed* to do this?" she asked D'Gal.

"Captain, the Bagels trust me even less than they trust you.  They don't tell me 
anything.  But judging by its performance, I'd say it's a safe bet that it's not 
the type of weapon we thought it was."

"Meaning?"

"Assuming destinations can be specified, it would be an excellent way to send an 
entire legion deep into enemy territory without risking discovery en route.  Or 
the opposite could be employed - an enemy's forces could be sent far from the 
area of conflict, rendering their homeworld defenseless.  Ingenious..."

"Ingenious, except that now we have absolutely no idea where we are.  Or where 
the Ducks are, for that matter."

"So set an arbitrary course.  We're bound to find some semblance of civilization 
somewhere.  And never mind about the Ducks.  For all we know, they could've been 
crushed in that thing.  The fighters, too -- we didn't need them anyway."

"All the same, I dislike traveling virtually unarmed through unknown territory," 
Galaxia said, selecting a heading at random, "Let's hope we find a place to 
repair and restock soon..."

**********

The Ducks' ship burst through the brilliant spiral, flung clear by some unseen 
force.  The floundering ship righted itself almost immediately, setting into a 
slow arc and scanning the area for its quarry as the crew regained its bearings.

"This thing could really use some seatbelts," Ferdia grunted, rising to her 
feet.

"Seat what?" Commodore asked.

"Restraining harnesses," Squeaks supplied.

"That it could," Commodore chuckled, reseating himself and looking to the 
viewscreen.  "Any ideas where our friends went?"

"Captain, scans of the area do not match any records in known space," an ensign 
reported.  "But we appear to have emerged very close to-"

"Hey, cool! DS9!"  Ferdia pointed to the distinctly ringed spaceport floating 
into view, enthusiasm adding volume to her statement.  "Maybe we came out of the 
wormhole!"

Drake looked up from the ensign's readout, giving her a curious look.  "And just 
*how* did you know that?" he asked, disbelief filling his voice.

"I catch a rerun every now and then....Why?  That's not *really* what it is, is 
it?"

"You'd be surprised how accurate some of those shows are," Squeaks muttered. 

**********

"That's it.  You're not allowed to drive anymore."

"What!?"

"I mean it, Iiwi.  I'm sick an' tired of being smacked around like a pinball."

"But that was the autopilot!"

"I don't care!  We've got a kiwi-shaped *dent* in the screen from that last 
ride!"

"That reminds me....Bob, are you okay?"

Bob moaned from where he lay under the viewscreen, rubbing his head and groggily 
propping himself up.  "Dammit Jim, I'm a kiwi, not a ping-pong ball..."

"He's fine," Ferdie observed.  "So where are we?  Where'd everybody go?"

"How should I know?"  Iiwi shrugged.

"You've got the navigation stuff an' everything.  Where's the computer say we 
are?"

"It doesn't.  We're in the part of the map labeled 'Here there be monsters'."

"WHAT?!?"  That woke Bob up.  "Monsters?!"

"She's just messin' with your mind, Bob."

"You leave my brain alone!"

"No, guys, I'm serious.  Look at that," she pointed to the screen.  Strangely-
glowing ribbons of color floated in the distance, an occasional bolt of energy 
breaking free and darting out toward the ship, only to fizzle away as it crossed 
the empty blackness.  "It's not on the charts.  Neither is anything else," she 
added, gesturing at a series of planets to starboard, seemingly in orbit around 
the thing.

"Hey look!"  Bob pointed at a metallic glint to their left.  "It's a ship!"

"That looks like some sort of official insignia painted on it.  Maybe they're 
police or the navy or something.  You think they'll tell us where we are?" 
Ferdie asked hopefully.

"Assuming they don't blow us up first."  She'd looked at the ship's specs while 
the autopilot had been guiding them to their rendezvous point.  She didn't have 
to be familiar with the nuances of interstellar law to spot a fake registry.  
And a ship, be it sea or space, with a fake registry usually meant a pirate.  
And *no* authorities liked pirates....

**********

"Wow...."

Ferdia stepped out of the hallway and into the belly of the station, her wide 
eyes taking in the sights and the bustling peoples about her.  "This place is 
huge!"

"Yes," Squeaks agreed, jogging down the hallway to his partner, "So don't just 
take off like that.  It's dangerous here.  You could get lost."

"Squeaks, I'm a cop, not a kindergartner.  You don't need to tell me a place 
like this is dangerous."

"Just be careful, okay?  Guns don't scare these people very much."

"She shouldn't even be carrying one," Drake intoned from behind them.  He didn't 
see why the captain had let the bird board the station.  She was a primitive!  
She shouldn't even have been allowed on the bridge, much less engineering!  He 
made a mental note to remember to discipline the engineer who'd shown her 
around.  But the bird didn't belong here, and she definitely couldn't be part of 
this mission!  The Prime Directive clearly prohibited interfering with pre-warp 
races, and endangering the life of such a world's inhabitant just as taboo.  The 
weapon that had been used on their ship couldn't be allowed to reach the Bagels; 
the Ducks would see to that.  But that would mean more battling - either with 
Galaxia or with the Bagel navy - and *that* meant something needed to be done 
about this bird.  Whether Squeaks liked it or not.

The bird just glared at him, her steely gaze coupled with Squeaks' cold one.  
His friend had changed, he saw - the mouse he knew from his academy days was no 
longer there.  Or if he was, he was ignoring his Spacefleet training.  He was 
allowing his feelings for a friend, along with a slight misunderstanding on 
Drake's part, cloud his judgement.  Yes, Drake realized, he'd have to do this 
himself.  He just hoped his friend would forgive him when this whole mess was 
over.  He held a datapad out to Squeaks.

"Take this down to their armory.  I need to talk to this station's chief about 
getting those star charts.  I'll meet you back at the dock in an hour.   Oh, and 
here," he tossed the bird a small sack of credits. "Have a look at their 
markets.  Get yourself a souvenir or something."  With that, he turned and 
walked off toward a turbolift.

Ferdia eyed him suspiciously as he walked away, considering the credits.  He 
seemed to be genuinely sorry about attacking them in the alley, and his 
apologies sounded sincere enough....but she just didn't trust that duck.  Her 
cop instincts told her something about him wasn't on the level.  She just didn't 
know what.

Squeaks jarred her back to the present.  "Come on.  Their weapons storerooms are 
at the other end of the station, so we should hurry.  The markets here really do 
have some interesting stuff."

**********

"Ack!  Look out!  That one's gonna hit us!"

"Shut up!  They're *all* hitting us!"  Iiwi braced herself as the blast shook 
the small fighter.  "Just find a place to land!"

"Where?"

"ANYWHERE!  Just as long as we can breath in the atmosphere!  We need to go down 
before we're *shot* down!"

Ferdie pointed to a green orb on the screen.  "There!  That one's good!"

Bob eyed the growing planet carefully.  "If it's another desert planet, I'll 
geboot you!"

"So will I.  We need a place to *hide*, Ferd.  Not a place that looks like a 
setting in Star Wars."

"If you don't like it, *you* drive!"

"FINALLY!  It's about time you guys let a *flier* fly this ship!  Entering 
atmosphere!"

The ship sliced through the planet's soupy clouds, bouncing about in the air as 
turbulence and their pursuers pounded the hull and wreaked havoc on the ship's 
control surfaces.  As the fighter broke through the fog, it became apparent that 
they were headed straight into a forest, and Iiwi forced herself to tune out the 
cries of her companions as they scrambled to secure themselves in their seats.  
Using instincts honed from a lifetime of flying, along with the fighter's many 
anti-collision systems, she wove the fighter through the trees, maintaining its 
suicidal angle of decent until the ship burst through the trees and streaked 
down the canyon its scanners had told her were there.  Once in the canyon, she 
elicited further screams from her friends by opening fire on the cliff walls, 
dodging under the crashing boulders in an attempt to lose the trigger-happy 
naval trainee ship behind them.  

Convinced though they were that their quarry was the real thing and not just a 
training drone, the trainees nonetheless shuddered at flying their larger, and 
considerably less agile, ship through the narrow chasms, and pulled up out of 
the canyon.  As they headed back for orbit, though, they loosed one last volley 
of ordinance - some of which hit one of the falling rocks, sending it crashing 
into the fighter, smashing its horizontal controls.  The little ship nosed down, 
gaining even more speed as it plummeted, nearly out of control, toward the river 
running the length of the bottom of the canyon.

Jerking the ship into a spin as the water rushed up to meet it, Iiwi managed to 
create enough drag to nose the craft up ever so slightly, saving them from a 
bone-shattering crash.  The fighter instead hit the water and skipped like a 
stone, its spin tossing it out of control until it was more tumbling than 
skipping across the surface.  The cliff walls, which had been receding as the 
river widened, gave way to a grassy field, and it was here that the tumbling 
ship came aground, skip-rolling up the slight slope and finally skidding to a 
halt just a few yards from yet another forest.

**********

"Yet another perfect three-hundred-and-eleven-point landing brought to you by 
Heart Attack Air, making you vow to stay earthbound since 19....hey, Iiwi, what 
year were you born?"

"Shut up, Ferdie."

"That's not a year."

"So?  That wasn't a landing.  THAT was an adventure."

"You shut up too, Bob.  Any landing you can walk away from...."

"...is a good landing.  Yeah, we know.  But a *really* good landing is one where 
the plane can be reused.  Now get me a wheelchair."

"You guys really should've used the restraining harnesses in the seats the way 
they were meant to be used instead of just knotting them together."

"Well, you know, if someone had *told* us we would be landing upside down, I 
think we would've come up with something better."

Iiwi opened her eyes at that - sure enough, they were upside down.  She wondered 
how Bob had figured that out without opening his eyes.  Reaching down to 
unfasten her emergency safety harness, she freed herself and fluttered down to 
check on Ferdie, who was stuck between the gap that formed between his seat and 
the one next to it.  Bob just lay on the ceiling and waited for the world to 
stop dancing.

"Hey, Iiwi?"  he asked, glancing up at one of the few still-functioning screens 
above him, "You don't suppose this place is inhabited, do you?"

"I don't know - I was a little too preoccupied with landing to pay attention to 
the lifeform readout.  But it certainly *looks* habitable.  Why?"

" 'cause there's someone at the door," Bob replied, pointing to the screen's 
fuzzy display.

 As Iiwi and Ferdie turned to try and make out the dark figure slipping through 
the night's shadows and approaching the ship, the resounding bass tone of a 
knock echoed through the hull.  The detectives shared a wide-eyed look.  They 
were a long way from home, they realized.  And suddenly, none of them wanted to 
be there...

**********

Ferdia meandered down the rows of merchants, staring in awe at both the wares 
and their sellers.  She'd never imagined such exotic aliens existed!  Furred 
creatures with black-tipped ears and white-tipped tails, seven-foot-tall 
insects, scaly lizard-men, even some creatures that looked like something 
straight out of a Hollywood B movie!  Very few resembled the aliens that 
frequented her familiar Star Trek episodes - most resembled in one form or 
another an odd, hairless species and were what Squeaks said was 'humanoid'.  She 
had to force herself not to stare - they looked so weird, with no fur or 
feathers anywhere but their heads!

She failed to notice that many of them were staring at her as well - mostly 
because her uniform reminded them of something they had seen in history class. 
That she and her partner were both species unknown to the area was a matter of 
secondary concern - the spaceport was privy to all sorts of unusual visitors, 
and they *had*, after all, emerged from the wormhole.  The better gossipers 
among them whispered about the curious design of their ship.

	Squeaks stayed with her, for the most part, looking not at the items but 
at the conglomeration of species gathered there.  Some he recognized - members 
of particularly well-traveled races, fellow explorers, and gypsy-like cargo 
haulers.  Many he could only guess at, based on similar species he'd seen on the 
fringes of space.  He spotted several Kurdish shoppers, clad in formal attire 
and frantically searching the merchants' tables for something.  A few well-
dressed Corellians also wandered about, showing no interest in the Kurts, making 
him wonder if perhaps the two had finally settled their centuries-old feud.  
Just how long he'd been out of touch with these beings and this setting was 
beginning to dawn on him, and he began to remember why he'd loved space 
exploration so dearly.


	Someone tugged at his shirt.  Turning, he found himself face-to-face with 
Drake again.  His old friend smiled.

"Like riding a bike, eh?"  Drake asked.

"It's coming back, yeah.  Just have to get used to it again."

"You said it.  Look, Ace, I'm really sorry about what happened in the alley."

"I believe you already, okay?  Doesn't mean I condone what you were doing.  
Situations like that, you're supposed to avoid locals, not attack them, and you 
know it."

"I know, I know.  I've learned my lesson, okay?  I stick to the rules from now 
on."

"That'll be the day."

"Aha!  If you're able to joke with me now, I'm at least partially forgiven.  
Want to go someplace quieter and talk?  I'm dying to hear how you've survived on 
that primitive world."

"It's *not* primitive!"

"They still using fossil fuels?" A nod.  "Then they're primitive.  Look, we've 
got at least another two hours before we can leave - repairs are taking longer 
than we'd thought.  Let your friend look around some more.  If she can find her 
way around an enterprise-class starship, she can find her way back to the dock.  
And if she can't we can always come back for her."

Squeaks considered the offer.  Drake was an old friend, and they did have a lot 
of catching-up to do - they hadn't seen each other since they'd graduated from 
the academy several years back, and neither had kept up correspondence.  And he 
wanted to set Drake straight on some things, too - his haughty view of Ferdia's 
planet, for example.  Pre-warp could mean a lot of things - and a society that 
built aircraft capable of flying faster than sound and sent satellites and brave 
souls aloft into orbit wasn't primitive.  Primitive was a planet still surviving 
with spears and animal skins.  He nodded.  "Just let me tell her."

Drake nodded as the mouse went over to talk to the bird.  She glanced his way, 
no doubt objecting to the idea of splitting up. Drake remembered engineering's 
recount of her questions.  He had to admit, she was pretty smart.  For a 
primitive, anyway.  In a different setting, he was certain they could've gotten 
along quite well.  In an odd way, what had to be done bothered him.  But it was 
in her best interests.  And Squeaks'.  Whether they appreciated it or not.  

**********

Another pounding sound echoed through the ship, spooking the detectives into 
action.  Cowering wasn't going to get them anywhere.  Iiwi flew up to the main 
console, trying in vain to find a system intact enough to protect them - but the 
battered ship's energy supplies were waning, slowly sapped out by the snapping 
cables and sizzling wires.  The viewscreens had long since lost their ability to 
display a view of the outside world, and their cloaked visitor wasn't showing 
any indications of leaving.  She glided back down to the others.

"It's no use.  Engines are out, shields are out, heck, even communications are 
out.  We're stuck, and we're running out of power.  And when that happens, we'll 
have to leave before we run out of air."

Ferdie looked in the direction of the knocks.  "I'm not leaving as long as 
*that's* out there.  Who knows what it is."

Another knock sounded, accompanied by the muffled sound of a strange tongue.  
Iiwi picked a fallen translator off the floor and searched for the way to turn 
it on.  Her friends did the same, fumbling for an on/off switch until Bob stuck 
the tiny device in his ear and discovered they already *were* on.  A bit 
embarrassed, the others followed suit.

"Helloooooo," the voice called again, "Can you hear me?  Are you all right?"

"Oh, well, he certainly sounds nice," Bob remarked, calming visibly.

"Oh, yeah, sure, they all do, right before they lure you out and eat you."

"Come on, Ferdie.  It's worth a look, at least."

"Says you, Iiwi.  YOU go out and look."

"Fine!"

Iiwi flit over to the doors and, prying them open, flew out of the bridge, down 
the corridor and into the cargo bay.  Bob scrambled after her, and, after a few 
seconds, Ferdie reluctantly followed, ducking the dripping coolant spills and 
gingerly picking his way around piles of sparking wires.  In the cargo bay, he 
found the others scowling up at the bay doors.

"They're jammed," Iiwi grumbled, "Probably from when that rock hit us.  And I 
don't know where the emergency hatches are."

"What about those little doors that have 'emergency' painted on them?"  Bob 
inquired, pointing to a narrow door flush with the far wall.

Ferdie walked over and opened the door, peering into the passageway inside. 
"Stairs up and down....and looks like some doors spaced every few flights."

"That'll do,"  Iiwi said, flitting over to the stairway, then stopping short as 
she got a look inside.  "Oh, it's so cramped in there." 
 
"So we go single file."

"It's still pretty tight.  And dark," she backed up, looking about the room for 
another exit.  Finding none, she gave a frustrated sigh.  "Guess it's better 
than staying stuck in here..."

**********

Ferdia hurried down the hallways of the station, scanning each docking bay's 
registry and searching out the viewports for the oddly-shaped ship.  Squeaks had 
said the ship needed two more hours for repairs, and yet not ten minutes after 
he'd left, whispers about the strange Klingon-like ship that *had just left* 
began filtering through the crowd.  She ignored the stares she got as she jogged 
around the docking bay - one would think no one here ever ran - and then skidded 
to a stop as she passed bay 33E.  The viewport stretching between bay 33E and 
the bay the Ducks had docked at gave her a good look at the cerulean transport 
docked at bay 33E, as well as an excellent view of bay 34E.

Which was empty.

She stood there for a solid minute, gawking out the viewport, then forced 
herself to keep moving.  Squeaks had said the ship could cloak, could become 
invisible.  Maybe that's what is was.  Or maybe she had the wrong dock. She knew 
34 was the right number, but maybe it had been 34B?  or 34D?  They sounded so 
similar. She'd just go up a few levels.  Or maybe it was 34F.  She hadn't paid 
much attention to the numbered plaque next to the bay as she'd left the ship. 
True, the bright blue ship in 33E looked familiar, but who was to say there 
weren't a dozen such ships docked at the station?  Or maybe she just *thought* 
it looked familiar.  Like the dingy rust-colored freighter in 35E that was now 
coming into view.  Hadn't she passed two just like it on her way here?  Yes, 
that was it.  She had the wrong bay.  Maybe she should just ask those people 
ahead of her where the ship was docked.  She quickened her step.  Yes, that's 
what she'd do.  They were officers aboard the station, they could check.  Yes, 
definitely officers.  They wore those distinct orange-yellow uniforms....

...of station security....

....and they were all standing in front of bay 34E, as if they were waiting for 
something...or someone.....She felt her pace slowing as her heart rate quickened, 
her cop instincts telling her that something was just not quite *right* here....

One of the officers caught sight of her, and the others turned to follow his 
gaze.  Ferdia froze.

"Ah, Miss Birdie.  We've been looking for you," one said conversationally.

"Yes, we'd like to talk to you," another said pleasantly.

A wave of fear shot through her, and Ferdia forced herself to stay in control.  
She would not panic.  She knew this game - she'd seen it played countless times 
before.  Approach a dangerous or flighty suspect as non-threateningly as 
possible.  Be their friend.  Soothe them.  Calm them.  Because if you spooked 
them, they'd run.  And that meant you had to chase them.  Which meant they might 
get away.  She'd played the game herself at least a dozen times, but always as 
one of the officers.  Now she knew how the other guy felt.  Trapped.  Except for 
one thing - she knew how the game was played, what the officers did, what the 
suspect did, what the officers were thinking, and what the officers were 
thinking the suspect was thinking.  She glanced behind her.  No one there.  Yet.

"If you'd just come with us..." the first one began.

"No, that's all right," she replied, taking a step back, "I...kinda need to get 
back to my ship-" she turned, bolting back the way she'd come as they ran after 
her.  Predictably, another group of guards now advanced from where they'd been 
hiding in 32E, and to avoid them she ducked down the hallway leading back to the 
body of the station.  Three more guards appeared at the end of the hallway, 
running towards her.  Two could play at that game.  Ferdia charged them, diving 
at the last second like a runner for home plate.  Curling into a ball and 
somersaulting behind them, she was on her feet again in an instant and running 
toward the merchants' mezzanine, the one part of this station that would allow 
her to instantly put several levels between her and her pursuers.  As long as she wasn't more than a few levels up, that is.  

The guardrail came into view up ahead, and from her angle she guessed she was 
only two or three levels up - and hoped she was right, because she didn't have 
time to check.  She hit the railing and vaulted over it, plunging into a crowd 
that parted when it saw her jump and again merged into a sea of bodies when 
security didn't fire at her.  She wove through the crowd, ducking and dodging to 
lose any security still behind her.

She couldn't stay in the crowd - she needed a place to hide.  As she searched 
for a conveniently narrow corridor to duck into, she spotted a brightly lit sign 
off in a far corner.  Of course!  Where better to hide than in the open?

**********

Squeaks charged, throwing his shoulder into the door as his slammed into it.  
The door shuddered with the impact, but all he'd really achieved was to add 
another bruise to his shoulder.

"Dammit, Drake!  Let me OUT!"

"Sorry, Ace," came the reply from the other side of the door, "You know I can't 
do that."

"We can't just *leave* her there!"

"Sure we can.  We just did.  Don't worry, she'll be safe.  I asked their 
security to, er, 'look after' her until we get back.  She can't come on this 
mission, it's too dangerous."

" 'for a primitive,' you mean.  I can't believe Mallard authorized this."

"He didn't, but now that it's done, he agrees that she's better off there until 
we're finished.  And that's what she is, Ace.  Really, I'm doing you a favor.  
And as soon as you come to your senses and remember your training and duty as an 
officer, I'll let you out."

"I hate you for this, Drake."

"You'll get over it."

Squeaks gave the door a vicious kick.  It was hopeless, really.  The door was 
designed to withstand powerful explosions.  He could beat at it all day and not 
get anywhere, and he knew it. But since when could doors to personal rooms be 
locked from outside?  He paced the room.  There had to be another way out, and 
if there was, he'd find it.  The communications console in the room had been 
deactivated, and the replicator programmed only to replicate food, so his 
options were limited.  But he had to get word out to someone somehow.  Ferdia 
would not tolerate being incarcerated, and there were always those in a space 
station waiting to take advantage of a preoccupied security staff.
 
**********

The face-off continued.  As soon as Iiwi had opened the hatch door, the shadowy 
figure had rushed at them, only to be forced back by Iiwi's screeches and 
snapping beak.  Now he stood several feet from the crippled spacecraft, watching 
the detectives as they eyed him warily.  The silence was uninterrupted but for 
the occasional rustle as Iiwi ruffled her feathers.

Bob was getting tired of all the standing and staring.  He was also getting 
hungry.  Pushing his way to the front of the group, he yelled down to the 
figure.

"Hey!  You gonna stand there all night or are you gonna leave so I can get some 
coffee?"

"I was only trying to see if you needed help.  That was some crash."

"TELL me about it," Ferdie muttered, earning a glare from Iiwi.

"Your ship will need to be repaired - I can take you to someone that can fix 
it," the figure offered, pointing to the forest.  "My village is in there."

"Oh, great.  A forest village.  If that isn't the most cliché thing I've ever - 
ow!" Ferdie yelled as Bob stomped on his foot.  "I mean, sure, sounds great to 
me."

Iiwi shrugged.  "Not like we've got anything to lose."

"Great!" Bob yelled, jumping down to the grass, "Lead on!"

**********

"Sorry, all holodecks are in use right now - and for the rest of the day.  You 
need to schedule at least a day in advance, you know."

"Eh?  I'm not here to use a holodeck."

"Could've fooled me, dressed like that."

"I need a ship."

"Excuse me?"

"A ship.  I need one.  Know where I can get one?"

"Hey, this is a respectable dining establishment, not a back-alley black 
market."

Ferdia scowled.  She knew what was coming.  "Perhaps, if I ordered something, 
you might remember someone who could help?"

The Ferengi behind the bar grinned.  "So, what'll it be?"

"Umm...I'm not sure."  She wasn't sure if the bar served anything she would be 
able to safely drink....but she had to order something.  "What do you recommend?"

"A flask of Ugathra Mael-toc."

She eyed the bartender warily.  "Isn't that the most expensive drink on the 
menu?"

He shrugged.  "You asked."

"How about something without synthehol in it?  Some fruit juice, maybe?  Do you 
have anything like that?"

"I have some prune juice."

"Ick," she made a face.  "Pass.  How about some water, then?"

"Water?"

"Yes, water.  Good ol' dihydrogen monoxide.  H-two-Oh."

"You come into Quark's Place, the finest dining establishment in five sectors, 
and all you can think to order is a simple, tasteless, completely commonplace 
three-atom molecule?!? The cheapest drink on the menu?"

"Yeah.  So?"

"I'm insulted!  Most people that come in here looking for something at least 
have the brains to-"

"Oh-o no you don't!  I'm sick of your four-brain-lobes-are-better-than-two air 
of superiority!  It's not what you've got, but what you do with it!"  Ferdia 
yelled, the stress of her current situation getting the better of her temper.

Quark growled, filling a glass and practically throwing it at the bird before 
heading to the opposite side of the bar.  He proceeded to ignore that end of the 
bar entirely, a fact that angered patrons there that wanted refills.  Tiring of 
trying to flag themselves a bartender, patrons got up and wandered to the other 
side of the bar, glaring at Ferdia.

"What?"  she asked innocently as they passed by.  As more left, she idly swirled 
the water around in the glass. "Guess that pretty much rules out that option," 
Ferdia sighed.  

"Pissed him off pretty good, didn't you?"  chuckled someone to her left.

"Yeah, well, I'm not exactly in the best of moods myself," she muttered.  "I'm 
stuck here."

"Oh, compared to my problem, that's nothing to be upset about!  I, I have 
single-handedly destroyed a century's worth of painstaking negotiations!  My 
descendents will wander about the cosmos in shame!  Oh, ancestors forgive me!"

Ferdia arched an eyebrow and turned to face her companion.  He was a short, 
pudgy, brown-furred mole-ish creature.  And judging from his looks and the 
collection of empty mugs in front of him, he was drunk.  "So....who're you?"

"It doesn't matter.  See, when the rest of the delegation finds out what has 
happened, they'll kill me, and banish the rest of my family.  So it really 
doesn't matter who I am."

Ferdia squinted at the mole-creature.  "You drunk?"

He took a swig from his mug, eyeing the amount of golden liquid remaining.  
"Almost."

"But....I didn't think you could get drunk off synthehol."

He finished off the mug, banging it on the bar until a young Ferengi rushed up 
and refilled it.  Chugging half its contents immediately, he wiped the foam on 
the back of his sleeve and fixed his gaze on the wall in front of him.  "Oh, you 
can, you can.  It just takes a lot more beers.  Been workin' on this buzz for 
hours."

"Why?"

"Because!  Because of me, a war that has raged for the past seven centuries will 
continue!  I knew something like this would happen!  Damned intergalactic 
transports!  They always lose my luggage!"

"A war's going to continue because you lost your luggage?"  Ferdia arched an 
eyebrow.  "How many beers did you say you've had?"

"Not nearly enough!" He snapped, nursing his beer.  "It's all the Corellians' 
fault.  It's their stupid tradition too!  They should've brought an extra!"

"Extra what?"

He sighed.  "You're not very up-to-date with current events, are you?  I'm part 
of the Kurdish peace delegation.  We were supposed to sign a peace treaty with 
the Corellians, ending the war between our worlds.  BUT to do that, we need a 
ceremonial quill.  And the transport lost it!"

"A quill?  As in, a feather?"  Ferdia struggled to keep the laughter out of her 
voice.  "That's your problem?"

"Don't laugh!  It's not that simple!  You see, it must be an actual bird's 
feather - not just something thrown together by a replicator!  And it can't be a 
Corellian feather, either - no, that would just make things too simple!  But my 
fellow delegates have searched the entire spaceport - and none of the merchants 
have one!  It's hopeless!  Oh, the shame, the shame!"  He buried his head in his 
hands.

Try as she might, Ferdia couldn't help herself.  The laughter she'd kept at bay 
bubbled over and broke free.  She laughed until her sides hurt, tears streaming 
down her face.

"It's not funny!"

"I know - it's just-" She leaned on the bar for support, still chuckling, and 
tried to sound serious.  "It's just - well - um....Would one o' these do?"  She 
asked, jerking her thumb towards her tail and fanning her feathers.

Turning to face her for the first time, the mole's jaw dropped.

"C'mon, it's not polite to stare."

"You're a - a-"

"Bird?  Yep.  Now, about my payment..."

"Anything, anything!  Name your price!"

"I want a ship.  One with good defenses, warp capability, and more than enough 
fuel to fly from here to the ends of known space and back.  And preferably one 
that's easy to fly."

The mole thought a bit.  "You say warp capability?  Would a hyperdrive do?" he 
asked hopefully.  "The technology's a bit older, but it'll take you up to the 
equivalent of Warp 2 or 3, easily.  And judging from your attire," he added, 
eyeing her uniform, "I'd say you're a bit of an antique buff yourself."

Ferdia shrugged.  "As long as it's spaceworthy.  But I'll want to see it first."

"Excellent!"  He yelled, downing the rest of his drink and leaping from the 
barstool.  "Come with me, I will show it to you!"

Ferdia shook her head, smiling as she jogged after him.  This ought to be 
Interesting...


**********

The freighter sped across the void, ducking and weaving and trying desperately 
to escape the trio of pirates behind her.  Phasers bounced across her bow, 
steadily wearing down her failing shields.  A lucky shot streaked through, 
tearing into the ship's engines.  Powerless but for life support, the freighter 
began to drift, her crew now frantically calling for aid - and finding their 
communications jammed.  The pirate came up alongside, transmitting an audio 
message over the only channel they left open.

"This is the pirate fighter - uh - er - hmm..." a voice boomed into the 
freighter's bridge.  "Hang on a second."  The voice dropped, addressing someone 
else.  "Hey, this ship needs a name.  Any suggestions, kid?"

"Rosebud!"

" 'Rosebud'?"  Ivan repeated.  "What the heck kind of name is that for a pirate 
ship?  Next!"

"How about 'the Scarlet Tanager'?" Lita ventured meekly, ducking back as 
attention shifted to her.  "Or not."

" 'The Scarlet Tanager'?  Better, I guess.  It'll do for now, anyway.  So. 
Freighter!  Stand by while we beam over your cargo!  And don't anybody try 
anything funny while your files are scanned!  We just want you star charts!"


The freighter crew sat quietly throughout the transfer - which was really all 
they could do until their engineering staff fixed the engines.  The weapons were 
a loss, true, but the charts?  Surely the pirates had much more extensive maps 
of the area than they.  Why would they need the freighter's limited charts?


**********

"So, can you fix it?"

"I'm not sure, Master Beak.  If so, it will take a while.  The travelers will 
need to spend a few days here.  Will they mind?"

"They seem to be in a great hurry.  The blue one said something about searching 
for his sister.  Is it possible to speed up the repairs?"

"Well, if they don't mind traveling without their weapon systems or visual 
communications, I should be able to finish it overnight."

"Do it.  I'll accompany them and fix what I can along the way."

"Beak, you are leaving us?"

"The Great BaNAna prophesized that I would leave the village to aid the primary-
colored ones in their quest."

"Beak, the Great BaNAna also prophesized that hydrogen was a good stabilizing 
gas in combustion engines.  It has been wrong before."

"But it says I can't learn anymore here, that I must complete my training on my 
own.  Besides, I've always wanted to be an explorer."

The mechanic stopped his work to peer at the young Jedi.  "Beak, are you sure 
they can be trusted?  The yellow one has done nothing but talk of coffee since 
he entered the village.  He could be an agent of the Java Empire."

Beak shook his head.  "Or he might just be thirsty.  They're trustworthy, I know 
it.  And I'm going."


**********

"Mommy, lookit, lookit!"  The young kiwi pointed up at a red blur darting 
through the trees.  "She flying!"

Iiwi flit through the village, ducking around trees and surveying the differing 
levels.  The place was a dead ringer for an Ewok village if there ever was one, 
but it was populated entirely by brown kiwi creatures.  Taller, with longer 
necks and feet than Bob's variety, they seemed to be the only civilized species 
in the area, and the wood and straw huts, however primitive-looking, did a good 
job of hiding otherwise space-age technology - though she hadn't seen any other 
ships.  She looped around the village once more, looking for Bob and Ferdie and 
noticing the points and stares the natives directed at her.  These kiwis 
couldn't fly any more than Bob could, she realized - and evidently they weren't 
aware that other birds could fly.  The thought made her feel a bit like Action 

Comics' Supermouse.  Spotting Ferdie, she dove down, alighting on one of the 
wooden railings.

"Hiya Ferd.  What's the news on our ship?"

"Beak says they can have it ready to fly by tomorrow morning or so, if we don't 
mind taking him along to finish some things."

"Sounds fine to me." 
 
"Uh, Iiwi?"

"Yeah?"

"About the flying....You're making them nervous."

"So?"

"So....talk to their Elders, don't keep avoiding their questions, and above all - 
stop buzzing the village!!!"

"Great.  Even in the lost woods there's a speed limit."

**********

"Computer, open a deep-space communications channel."

"Authorization required for compliance.  State your name and rank."

"Captain Squeaks Arcadia."

"Error: target designate is deceased.  Authorization denied."

"Computer, open a communications channel to engineering.  Authorization: Squeaks 
Arcadia."

"Error: target designate is deceased.  Authorization denied."

Squeaks paused.  After hours of door ramming and several failed attempts to hack 
into the computer system - as well as a 'shocking' attempt to hard-wire the 
terminal - all he had to show for his efforts was a collection of bruises and 
some singed fur.  Out of ideas, he'd begun looking for some sort of back door. 
And now he thought he'd found one.

"Computer, scan the ship for biodesignate: Arcadia, Squeaks."

"Scan failed.  Subject: Arcadia, Squeaks does not exists." 

Squeaks smiled.  Evidently no one had bothered changing the status of his file - 
and the computer could only search for 'living' targets - targets whose files 
listed them as alive.  The same glitch that had rendered Ferdia invisible to the 
system's scanners would now do the same with him.  Now he had a back door.

**********

Ferdia just stared.

It was all she could do, gawking up at a ship straight out of the cinematic 
blockbusters of her childhood.  Though much of its paint job was streaked with 
burnt marks of shots that had been too close for comfort, there were spots where 
the metal was as polished and shiny as it was for the ship's maiden flight.  And 
aside from the burns, it seemed perfectly intact.  Ferdia stood in front of it 
in awe.

"Well?"  the mole asked, impatience and worry in his voice.

"An x-wing..." she breathed, reaching out as if to a ghost and running her hand 
along the fuselage just to convince herself it was really there.  A series of 
warbling beeps brought her attention to the top of the fighter.  "And an R2 
unit, to boot."

"You know of them?" the mole asked appreciatively. "Then you truly are a fan of 
history."

"And she flies?"

"Yes.  I - All that I needed to do was fix her paint job, and she would've been 
completely restored.  I was planning on selling her to a collector on a nearby 
starbase - she's worth millions, you realize."

"I can only imagine."  She climbed a stepladder and peered into the cockpit.  
The instruments were all there, just as she remembered them from the movies.  A 
helmet and headset even rested on the seat.

"So, she'll do?"

"Oh, yes.  Very nicely."  She jumped down, giving the ship a pat before walking 
back to the mole.  Wincing, she plucked a feather from her tail and handed it to 
him, grimacing as she inspected her remaining tail feathers.  "Rate this is 
going, I'm not gonna have any of these left at the end of the week," she 
muttered, offering the mole her hand.

He accepted the handshake, smiling sadly and gazing wistfully over her shoulder. 
"As sorry as I am to part with her, I'm glad I'm giving her to someone like you.  
You've managed to keep that antique weapon of yours in superb condition, and the 
uniform - well, given how many centuries its seen, I'm sure some tatters would 
be unavoidable.  With your obvious respect for historical objects, I know you'll 
take good care of this ship."

Ferdia smiled uncomfortably, remembering her running tally of wrecked squad cars 
as well as her infamous shoot-outs in San Viano's historical district.  "I'll do 
my best," she promised.

**********

Squeaks couldn't remember the last time he'd so cramped.  Wedged into the air 
duct, he continued to squirm toward the maintenance hatch.  "If this were for 
anyone else, I'd tell them where to cram it," he grumbled.  "I hate being 
cliché."

With all other exists from his room blocked, he had had no other option but to 
enter the ventilation system - a strategy still taught at the Academy, in spite 
of the fact that the computer was now programmed to report the presence of any 
living creature in the system.  However, with the computer convinced he was not 
a living creature, it became a viable option, if not an attractive one.  

The vents lead him to the maintenance tunnels, which ran the length of the ship.  
Dropping into the tunnel, Squeaks took a grateful moment to stretch.  Though 
they carried the risk of an encounter with engineering personnel, he would stay 
in the tunnels for now.  He needed to figure out exactly where on the ship he 
was, and where he wanted to go.  The thought of taking a craft from the shuttle 
bay was enticing, but the odds were that there were only shuttles in the bay - 
and a shuttlecraft would be no match for the Ducks' ship if he were pursued.  
Perhaps Mallard could be reasoned with....

**********

Drake pressed the comm pad again, listening as the chimes sounded inside the 
room.  Squeaks had had a few hours to calm down and think, and he hoped his old 
friend saw the situation more clearly now.

Hrph.  No answer.  He pressed the intercom button.  "Hey, Ace, it's me.  What 
say we sit down and talk like civilized people, eh?"

Still no answer.  Odd.  Squeaks wasn't one for the silent treatment.  Regardless 
of how mad at you he got, he'd always have something to say to you, insult or 
not.  "Computer, open the door," he commanded.

Drake entered the room cautiously, half-expecting an ambush.  When none came, he 
looked around the room.  The first thing he noticed was the computer terminal - 
panels were torn out, exposing the computer's innards.  Many of its wires had 
been cut or spliced together, though the terminal looked burned out.  The 
replicator was a similar mess.  And there was no sign of Squeaks.  He hit his 
combadge.

"Drake to Security - Squeaks has escaped!"

**********

Even in the maintenance tunnels, Squeaks heard the alarm sound off.  So much for 
subtlety.  This would have to be done the hard way.  

**********

D'Gal stormed down the corridor, shoving aside all those too slow to get out of 
his way.  Even Galaxia's Dust Bunny sentries backed away as he approached, 
allowing him to proceed into the Captain's study without incident.  "Galaxia!"

"Didn't anyone ever teach you to knock, D'Gal?" she snapped.  "You can't just 
come barging in here and -"

"And what?  Point out how stupid this course of action is?  We've been orbiting 
this damned rock for hours!  And now you're sending messages out on open 
channels!  Do you want the Ducks to find us?"

Galaxia leaned forward confidently, steepling her hands on the desk in front of 
her.  "So that's what this is about?  I sent a beacon out on one of the Bagels' 
channels to let them know where we were."

"You WHAT?!?!?"

"It's more effective than just wandering around uncharted territory, isn't it?  
The Bagels responded a few minutes ago - they'll be here in a matter of hours.  
And," she waved dismissively, wanting to ebb the fury in the ebony Ducks' eyes, 
"it was a visual signal, so it's not a trap."

D'Gal leaned across the desk, catching her wrist in a vice-like grip.  
Surprised, Galaxia's eyes widened.  "It had better not be," D'Gal began, 
"Because until our systems have been fully repaired, we're defenseless against 
the Ducks.  I don't need to remind you what that means."

"Don't threaten me!  I'm your commanding officer!"

D'Gal released her wrist and turned to leave, brushing off his uniform as he did 
so.  "Hrph.  I signed onto this crew to figure out what this weapon was, and 
that's all. I'll be damned if I let anyone order me around.  Calling you 
'Captain' is bad enough."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me.  You're an accomplished spy, I admit, but you couldn't fight your 
way out of a paper bag.  From now on, all decisions go through me, got it?  Or 
you'll find yourself in the brig."

"You can't do that!"

"Can't I?  Whom do you think your crew is more afraid of?  I've taken ships 
bigger than this one, remember?"

"This ship is *not* moving until the Bagels get here."

"You're stubborn, I'll give you that," D'Gal snorted.  "Fine.  We'll stay.  But 
at the first sign of the Ducks, we're gone.  Period.  Deal?"

"Deal.  Now get out of my study."

D'Gal bowed mockingly before leaving the room.  Some people just needed a blade 
at their throat before they could see the danger of their situation.

**********

"So, Counselor, where do you think Squeaks has gotten to?"

"Why do you ask me, Captain?"

"Because I value your opinion.  And moreover, since the computer refuses to 
locate him, your opinion as an empath and as a psychologist is probably as good 
of a starting point as we're going to get."

The redheaded Duck thought for a bit.  "Well, given his training and the fact 
that he's currently unarmed, I'd say he'd head to Security for a phaser."

"Why would he go to Security?  He's got to know the entire ship is after him," 
Drake pointed out.

"Exactly.  And since we can't locate him with scanners, we'll distribute teams 
throughout the ship.  Except for a guard or two, no one'll be left at Security."

"Good point," Commodore decided.  "Drake, take a team to Security, and have the 
others spread out from there.  We'll find him."

**********

Squeaks dropped into the darkened room, thankful that the ship was on its 
'night' shift.  The dimmed lights and smaller amount of personnel on duty were 
making things much easier.

Darting to the desk, he began searching its drawers.  He needed a weapon, even 
if he had no desire to use one - and knowing Mallard, Security would be the 
first place they'd look for him.  Which was why he wasn't in Security.  He was 
in Sickbay.

Finding nothing in the desk, he moved to the storage cabinets across the room.  
Jackpot!  His service revolver was still in its holster, and nothing else on the 
belt had been touched - nightstick, radio, and extra ammunition were all there.  
As were his badge and wallet, though his uniform was nowhere in sight.  Ah well.  
Disappointing, but otherwise unimportant.  He grabbed the gear, then ran back to 
the ceiling vent.

So much for that.  Next stop: Engineering.  He needed some access codes.

**********

 "So it's fixed?"

"Well, not completely, but I can fix the rest on the way."

Bob poured himself another cup of coffee.  "You're coming with us?"

"Would you rather I didn't?  The mechanic can have the rest of the ship fixed in 
a day or so, if you'd rather wait," Beak ventured.

Bob thought about it.  "I don't know.  What do you guys think?"

Iiwi looked up from the nest in the straw she was making.  "I say let him come.  
The villagers say he can fight.  They say he's a Jedi." 

Beak choked on his drink.  "Who told you that?" he sputtered.

Iiwi shrugged.  "This little girl.  She begged me for a ride and a feather, and 
in flight told me just about everything about everybody.  Like this Java Empire.  
Based on her description of their insignias, I think they're the ones that shot 
us down."

"Iiwi's a detective even when she's off duty," Ferdie explained.

"All the same, I'd rather not let news like that out.  The Empire'll hunt me 
down like the others!"

"Like in the movies," Bob added.  "Okay, you can come.  Our planet's really far 
away - we've never even heard of this Empire.  You should be safe there."

"That sounds wonderful.  But you were looking for someone first, right?"

"Yeah, my sister.  But once we find her, we can go home."

"Great!  We leave tomorrow, then.  Goodnight, travelers."

"'Night, Beak!"

"....Ferdie, you failed to mention the fact that we have no idea where we are."

"Details, details.  How big can space be?"

Bob looked from Ferdie to Iiwi.  "He's never seen 'Lost in Space', has he?"

"Nope."

**********

It was the R2 unit's incessant beeping that woke her, and the firefight in front 
of her that kept her awake.  As different as space was, she could still 
recognize a burglary in progress.  She sped towards the ships, separating her 
ship's wings as she drew near.

"Hey!  Back off!" She dove at the ship in the lead of the trio of thieves.

The pirate responded as she thought it would - by shooting back at her.  
Curiously, the other two ships appeared to be drifting behind the leader - and 
as it turned its attention to the newcomer, the fleeing ship sped away, thankful 
for the rescue but not foolish enough to stick around.

**********

Ivan pounded his fists as he watched his catch speed off.  Their charts hadn't 
helped him much - and he hadn't had a chance to finish grabbing their cargo.  
Gold-pressed Latinum didn't sound too impressive to him, but Lita had been very 
excited in reporting it, so it had to have some value.  Well, a lot, actually, 
judging by how much ordinance she was firing at the meddling little fighter that 
had interrupted them.  He watched the fight bemusedly - the seemingly timid 
rabbit evidently had some of the killer instinct in her, judging by how she 
chased the fighter all over the screen.  His sign holder was getting into it as 
well, cheering her on like one would someone playing a video game.  Ivan almost 
felt sorry for the fighter's pilot.

And then he caught a good look at the fighter as it streaked by on the 
viewscreen.

"Wait a minute - !  Cease fire, cease fire!" he peered at the screen.  "That's 
an x-wing!"

"Really?" the sign holder looked at the viewscreen.  "Cool!  Can we keep it?"

He turned to his long-eared pilot.  "Ready the tractor beam."

**********

Ferdia was really enjoying this.  The ship handled beautifully - and the R2 made 
minor adjustments to dodge the phaser bursts, so most of the blasts missed her.  
Not wanting to press her luck too much, however, she turned to leave as the ship 
stopped firing at her - only to come to a jarring halt.  As the R2 unit chirped 
in confusion, the ship started sliding backwards.  

A tractor beam!  It had to be!  The Ducks' had one, so why not this ship?  She 
cursed angrily.

"This isn't fair!" she punched the communications to the frequency the R2 told 
her the pirate was operating on.  "HEY!!  No fair playing dirty!"


**********

Ivan did a double take as the voice came through the speakers.  He knew that 
voice!

"Do you hear me, coward?" the voice repeated.  "Fight like a man, or so help me, 
when I get out of here -"

"-You'll turn my shuttle bay into a remake of San Viano's Historical Theater?" 
he supplied.

"No, I'll - waitaminute. What'd you say?"

Ivan smirked.  Unbelievable.  "That's you, ain't it, Ferdia?"

A pause.  "Ivan?  What the hell are you doing out here?"

"Trying my hand at interstellar piracy.  How'm I doin'?"

"Hold on a sec - Galaxia brought you out here, didn't she?  You were the three 
ships that came out of her ship!"

"Uh, yeah.  Can't figure it out.  She drags me outta bed and then gets me 
blasted to God-knows-where, all without explaining exactly what she wants me to 
do.  I think I prefer run-of-the-mill street crime.  At least with the Black 
Market, I know where I am.  How'd you get out here?  And how'd you get that 
ship?"

"Do I detect a hint of envy there?  I got it for a song.  Well, a tailfeather, 
actually."

"A feather?  You got that ship for a feather?"

"Long story."

"I'll bet, detective.  So, um....you have any idea where we are?"

"In relation to a certain space station, yes.  In relation to home, no.  And 
judging from your charts, you don't know, either."

Ivan scowled at Lita.  "Next time we're scanned, tell me."

"Y-yessir."

**********

Ferdia listened to the exchange with more than a little amusement.  She felt her 
ship's backward motion cease, and the R2 informed her that the tractor beam had 
been disengaged.

"Say, detective....since neither of us knows where we are, but we're both lookin' 
for the same thing, how about we, uh...."

"Team up?" she supplied.  "Fine, but no more piracy."

"I was only after their star charts!"

"Riiiiiiiiight."

**********

"All units to the shuttle bay!  He's here!"  the ensign shouted over the din, 
ducking phaser blasts and trying to get a bead on the mouse himself.

Squeaks dove behind a shuttle, thankful for the phasers he'd found in 
engineering.  True, most either needed a new power source or some minor repairs, 
but their stun settings all worked, thankfully.  The shuttle bay crew had 
discovered him a little too quickly.  And while that spoke well of their 
training, it was making his life rather difficult.

Slapping a small device onto the shuttle's side, he loosed a quick burst of 
cover fire and dashed for the next shuttle.  Fortunately, the bay only had four 
shuttles at the moment.  Unfortunately, the entire security force - as well as 
most of the ship's officers - was about to converge on the bay.  Which was going 
to make things, well, complicated.  

**********

"Come on, we've got him now!" Drake yelled, racing ahead of the trailing detail. 
He was tiring of his old friend's antics.  If Squeaks was having such a hard 
time realizing the crew was only trying to help him, then he had definitely been 
on that savage little planet too long.  They should've had Counselor Troy speak 
with him.  And they would - right after they got him back in custody.  "Phasers 
on stun!"

**********

Squeaks skidded to a halt as the bay's doors bay slid open, scrambling for cover 
as dozens of phasers opened fire as the detail spilled into the room.  He dove 
for the nearest shuttle, rolling out of sight and glancing in the direction of 
the launch control room.  Somehow, he had to get there.  

He darted for the next shuttle, dodging a renewed volley of phaser fire and 
returning fire as best he could.  He dove as he drew closer to it, rolling 
behind it and pausing for breath.  The phaser blasts around him reminded him of 
a particular endeavor he and Ferdia had fought their way through a few weeks 
ago.  It had been a raid on a particularly nasty weapons ring, whose members 
fell back to their warehouse storerooms when confronted.  The resulting shootout 
had ended with yet another squad car a twisted rendition of Swiss cheese and 
fifteen of San Viano's finest in the hospital.  Walking out of the burning 
warehouse bloody and singed but triumphantly dragging the cuffed ringleader, 
Ferdia had jokingly called it 'just another gunfight at the O.K. Corral' - and 
though he knew the Ducks' phasers were probably set to stun and therefore not 
nearly as lethal as the thousands of bullets loosed in the raid, Squeaks felt he 
was in the middle of it again.

Wait.  Bullets.  That gave him an idea.  He looked up at the bay's ceiling, then 
at its walls.  Sheet metal - or, rather, a comparable substance.  Excellent.  
Most of the Ducks had no experience with projectile weapons - and even those 
that did regarded them as incredibly fearful, dangerous gadgets.  And he was 
counting on that fear to give him the diversion he needed.  He pulled his 
revolver and fired a single shot at a corner.

The gun's discharge was much louder than the phasers' blasts, and he heard a few 
gasps - followed by shouts as the bullet ricocheted off the corner and around 
the bay.  Predictably, the Ducks dove for cover to avoid being hit by such a 
deadly - and to them, unpredictable - missile.  Knowing the bullet was too high 
to hit anyone, Squeaks took the precious seconds the diversion bought him to run 
to the control room and bar the door.

The bullet zigzagged madly across the room for a few seconds before embedding 
itself in an unguarded mechanic's diagnostic console, sending out a shower of 
sparks.  Looking up from their hiding places, the Ducks took aim at the shuttle 
again -but did not fire.  Believing he was still behind the shuttle, Drake took 
on the role of negotiator, trying to coax his friend into surrender.

It was almost comical, Squeaks thought, taking out the datapad he'd gotten in 
Engineering and entering a series of codes into the computer.  Just as it was 
almost sad that he had to do this.  Tragic, really.  The bay doors began to 
open, revealing a field of unfamiliar stars streaking by.  Careful to keep the 
shield that held the ship's air in engaged, Squeaks typed in another code, and 
all four shuttles' engines began to whine.

**********

Drake stopped in mid-sentence as the shuttles hummed to life.  No!  Squeaks must 
have somehow gained the access codes to the shuttles and was planning on setting 
out in them!  But the ship was still traveling at warp eight!  Any shuttle 
attempting to leave the ship would be crushed!

"Aim for their engines," he instructed his team, "all of them.  There's no 
telling if he darted into another ship after firing at us.  But be careful!"

The crewmen complied, concentrating their fire on the shuttle in front of them 
but firing on the other three as well as all four rose a few inches front the 
floor and began inching forward.  A few shots went astray, hitting the sides of 
the ships and sending sparks flying.  

Realizing Squeaks had not engaged the ships' shields, Drake started to repeat 
his word of caution - and then the far right ship suffered a critical blow to 
its underbelly, exploding and plowing into the side wall as it crashed to the 
floor.  He saw one of the younger ensigns cringe.

"Don't worry about that one, it was too far away to be the one he's in," he 
reassured him, "Maybe now he'll realize we mean business, eh?"

**********

Hunched down in the control room, Squeaks heard the exchange and shook his head, 
smiling.  All other things aside, his old friend had become quite a leader since 
the academy.  He'd captain a ship like this one some day.  For now, however, he 
had to think of Drake as an enemy.  Increasing the shuttles' speed, he pressed a 
button on the control panel and listened to the shocked cries as another shuttle 
exploded.

At least the jury-rigged detonators were working.

**********

Drake watched as another shuttle crash to the floor.  A third was starting to 
flounder, one engine smoking.  "Hold your fire!" he yelled to the others.  

Suddenly the remaining shuttles' engines glowed brighter.  Realizing they were 
about to launch, Drake jumped up and ran after them, trying to flag them back.

"Wait!!!  Ace, the ship's still in warp, you'll never make-" 

His words were drowned out as the shuttles sprang toward the opening.  The lead 
ship flew out first; the force of the warp speed slammed into it like a freight 
train, crumpling the bow and flipping it sideways into the limping shuttle just 
exiting the bay as it exploded.  The crash rammed the ships into the side bay 
opening, prompting another explosion and sending the crumpled, burning wreckage 
skidding back into the bay.

The Ducks watched it burn in shocked silence, not wanting to believe their eyes.  
Many of them had known Squeaks in his academy days; the others had all listened 
to the stories of his exploits.  All felt numbed by this last, ill-fated, 
desperate act.

**********

Squeaks watched the explosion as he climbed back into the air ducts.  An 
impressive display of pyrotechnics, if he did say so himself.  And now the ship-
wide search for him would cease.

He felt sorry for Drake, though.  The Duck stood, stunned, in the middle of the 
bay, looking for all the world like he'd been shot.

**********

"Hey, Ivan!"

"Yeah?"

"Did you really name that ship the 'Scarlet Tanager'?"

"Um....yeah.  Sort of.  Why?"

"Isn't a Scarlet Tanager a, um....a red bird?"

Inside his ship, Ivan's head snapped up.  Annoyed, he punched the audio channel 
open.  "Look, detective, don't go tryin' to read into something that ain't 
there, okay?  My pilot here came up with the name, alright?"

"Touchy.... Look, I'm just trying to stay awake here.  It's very comfortable 
in this fighter."

"Nice try.  Your legs are cramping."

"Um, yeah.  And my attention span's waning."

"So take a nap." 

"I'm sick of napping.  I've been napping for the past six hours.  I -hey, wait a 
minute.  I think I've got the Ducks' ship on my scanners!"

Ivan glanced at Lita, who shrugged.  "They're still pretty far off, but they're 
movin' real fast.  Maybe they've spotted Galaxia."  She checked her readouts, 
but, finding nothing, scanned the communications channels.  "Hang on, listen to 
this!"  she flipped the speakers on.

"Bagel Ship to Duckhawk.  Repeat, Bagels to Galaxia.  We are en route to your 
current position.  Please verify that position coordinates 33-45-79-85" have not 
changed since last broadcast."

Ferdia's laugh cut in over the speakers.  "Are they really that stupid?  R2 says 
that's not even an encrypted channel!"

"Galaxia struck me as being rather inept at criminal etiquette.  She's full of 
herself, and Lita here says she's a really good spy - but from what I've seen, 
that's where her talents end."

"Great.  Funny, though, the Ducks aren't heading in that direction."

Ivan snorted.  "Maybe the rest of the galaxy isn't as skilled in matters of 
deception as we'd like to think."

"I dunno, Squeaks seems to follow even the most complicated plots we work on..."

"Right - he's smart, and funny, and-"

"Hey!  Shut up, Ivan!"  

It was Ivan's turn to chuckle.  "Just getting even, detective."

"You are an evil, evil man, Ivan."

"Hence the name 'Evil Sir Ivan Kiwi'.  Anyway, if these Bagels have found their 
way here from wherever we were, then their charts'll show us the way back.  And 
someone needs to let them know how dumb sending that message was.  See you 
later, do-gooder."

**********

Ferdia watched the trio turn to the new coordinates, wondering if Ivan would 
tell them the Ducks intercepted the message.  If he did, they'd wind up 
wandering this area of space even longer, searching for a familiar outpost.  NOT 
her idea of fun.  She noted the course settings on the pad in front of her, then 
set a course to intercept the Ducks.  Given their current velocity (Warp 8!!), 
she'd probably have to raise them on a hailing frequency to catch up - but she 
wanted to see how long she could postpone that.  She wasn't about to take any 
more chances with Drake.

**********

"Are you guys hearing this?"  Iiwi called to the others.  

Bob looked up from his hand.  "Hearing what?"

"The Bagels are practically broadcasting this Galaxia's location!  Beak, is our 
warp drive working?"

Beak stopped puzzling over the cards in his hand for a moment.  "Should be. 
Say, Iiwi, what is a 'straight flush', and what can I beat it with?"

"A 'straight flush' is Ferdie stacking the deck, and you beat it with five 
aces."

"Iiwi!"  Ferdie hissed, "Shut up!  I'm winning!"

"Five aces?  But Bob said there were only four of each card...?"

Iiwi shook her head.  "Never mind.  Just don't bet anything you don't want to 
lose."  She entered the coordinates into the console.  "Okay, since everyone 
seems to hate my ship-driving skills, I'm leaving the auto-pilot on.  We're 
warping to Galaxia's location as fast as possible.  As long as she doesn't move, 
we're good to go."

Beak spoke up again.  "But, Miss Iiwi, about the five aces...."

"Geez, you guys really shouldn't be corrupting him like this.  I mean, poker?  
Wouldn't it be more fun to play ERS?"

"NO!!!!" Bob and Ferdie chorused.

Iiwi sighed.  "Fine, fine.  I know when I'm beat.  I'll just help Beak with his 
poker game."

"Anyone want to play spades?"  Ferdie piped up.  Seeing no takers, he slouched 
down in his seat.  "Okay, fine.  Can't blame me for wanting to hold on to some 
of my winnings," he grumbled.

**********

 The ensign peered at the readouts on the screen.  Odd.  The computer's threat 
receiver was evidently detecting something bearing down on them - but it 
couldn't identify what it was.  Toggling another screen to the area in question, 
she cocked her head in confusion.  The image onscreen was definitely a ship - 
but a very small one.  Tiny, even.  And its lights seemed to be malfunctioning. 
 She frowned.

"Find something, ensign?"  Commodore Mallard inquired from his seat in the 
center of the bridge.

"I'm not sure, Captain.  But the computer is detecting a craft set on a course 
to intercept us."

"The Bagels," Commodore said quietly.

"I don't think so, sir.  It's much too small - and it looks ancient."

"Onscreen."  He gazed intently at the little ship, thankful for the technology 
that allowed their bird of prey to not only detect, but create a visual image of 
other craft - regardless of whether either ship was traveling at warp speeds.  
"You're right, ensign, it is small.  Looks like an early single-seat fighter.  
What do you make of the blinking light?"

"If it's really that old, then I'd say it's probably just malfunctioning."

"You think it's a signal, Captain?" Counselor Troy asked from her seat.

"It could be.  Their course is set to intercept us, after all.  And at warp 
speeds, regular space communications won't reach us."

"But what kind of communication is a blinking light?" the ensign wondered aloud.

"Let's find out.  Computer, compare the frequency of those lights to all known 
forms of communication."

"Complying....one match found:  Morse code.  Ancient form of communication 
consisting of a series of short and long durations of either sound or light."

Commodore looked at the ship on the screen.  "Ah, vintage communication to go 
with the ship.  Interesting.  Computer, translate the message."

"Complying....'Attention Duck ship.  If under command of Commodore Mallard, please 
respond by slowing to sub-warp speed.  Repeat, Captain Mallard, please come out 
of warp.'  The message repeats."

"It's too small to be threatening," his security officer reported.  "Perhaps 
they need our assistance and would prefer to communicate verbally."

Commodore thought for a moment.  His security officer was right - the ship was 
too small - and too old - to harm his ship.  And the odd form of communication 
made him curious.  "Why not," he chuckled, "Ensign Wells, take us out of warp."

**********

Ferdia cheered as the large Duck ship began to slow.  She'd found them!  That 
plus Galaxia's coordinates brought her one step closer to home.  And just in 
time, too - the R2 was beginning to report that her fuel cells needed to 
recharge a bit.  Evidently the mole at the space station had not been completely 
honest with her - but no matter.  Closing on the Ducks' location, she brought 
the x-wing out of hyperspace.  Seconds later, R2 informed her that the Ducks 
were hailing her.  Good.  Her Morse code was rather rusty.

**********

"Sir, they're responding to our hail," the young duck at the communications 
station reported.

"Excellent.  Onscreen."

"They're responding with an audio signal only, sir."

"Very well, then.  Let's hear it."

"Yes, sir."

"This is Commodore Mallard.  Who are you, and what business do you have with 
us?"

"Detective Ferdia Birdie," the ship replied, to the astonishment of the bridge 
crew, "You guys kind of left me behind at the station, remember?"

"That was...an accident."

**********

Inside the x-wing, Ferdia rolled her eyes.

"Uh-huh.  Right.  Sure it was.  Look, just open the shuttle bay an' let me land, 
okay?  I've been sitting in this thing for the past twenty-five hours, an if I 
can't stretch soon, I'm gonna scream."

A moment of silence passed.

"Guys, I meant it about the screaming thing.  Besides," she added, dangling her 
only bargaining chip in front of them, "you guys are going the wrong way.  
Galaxia's over that way."  She pointed.  "Oops, wait, you can't see that.  Guess 
you'll just have to let me aboard so I can give ya the coordinates, huh?"

That got them.  "You know where Galaxia is?"

"I know where the Bagels are planning to meet her.  Open the gates."

She could've sworn she heard a resigned sigh on the other end.  "Very well.  
Drake will meet you in the bay."

Drake?!?  "Don't think I won't shoot you guys if you try anything funny," she 
warned.  She was sick of being treated like a child.

A pause.  "No.  I believe we've had enough of that already," Mallard replied as 
the bay doors began to open.

Now what did he mean by that?

**********

A very forlorn Drake was still in the shuttle bay when Mallard's orders reached 
him.  He stared at the fighter with a mixture of astonishment and dismay as it 
drifted into the bay - unguided by the ship's tractor beam.  Normally, that 
would have been considered against regulations.  But given the fighter's pilot, 
he doubted that argument would've done any good.  He watched the landing 
appreciatively.  Pretty good flying, for someone unaccustomed to such 
technology.  And a beautiful ship.

The ship touched down gracefully, powering down as her pilot opened the canopy 
and hopped out.

**********

Ferdia removed her helmet and tossed it back into the cockpit, shaking out her 
hair and taking a few long moments to stretch.  Catching movement in her 
peripheral vision, she turned.  And scowled.  Drake approached her slowly.

She would not yell.  She would be civil.  For now.

"Looking a little pale there, duck.  Surprised to see me?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Two hours, huh?"

"About that-"

"Think you need a new watch."

"Well-"

"And what's with all the debris on this runway?" she motioned to the burnt 
pieces of wreckage still strewn across the bay from the shuttles' crash.  
"Slacking off?  Or am I interrupting a training accident?"

Drake paled even more, if that was possible.  Ferdia's brow furrowed in thought. 
This wasn't the same cock-sure pain-in-the-tail duck that had left her at the 
station.  She was suddenly very worried.  "Where's Squeaks?"

He hesitated.  "Squeaks is...unavailable...at the moment.  You said you knew where 
Galaxia was?"

Ferdia took the note out of her pocket and read off the coordinates, which Drake 
relayed to Mallard.  Then he looked at her regretfully.  Misinterpreting the 
gaze, Ferdia stepped back defensively and quickly looked over her shoulder.  
When no attacks seemed pending, she relaxed a bit.

Drake motioned to the door at the end of the bay.  "Come on, I'll show you to 
your quarters."

"If they even resemble the brig, so help me, I'll-"

"No tricks.  I swear."

"Where did you say Squeaks was again?"

"I didn't."

Ferdia followed him out warily.  Dozens of security personnel milled around the 
bay, watching her leave.  She returned their forlorn glances with a curious one.  
What was going on?

**********

High above the floor of the shuttle bay, another pair of eyes watched her leave.  
Inside the air duct, Squeaks grinned.  This was certainly a pleasant surprise!  

**********

"Have I missed something?" Ferdia persisted, "This place is about as cheerful as 
a funeral parlor."

"As you surmised before, there was a...training...accident earlier."  Drake halted 
before a set of doors, entering a code into the keypad beside it and motioning 
her into the room.

Ferdia eyed the door warily.  "You wouldn't be entertaining the idea of locking 
me in there, would you?"

"The door will not be locked.  However, we would prefer it if you remained here, 
so we can find you if need be.  The coordinates you gave us are nearly a light-
cycle away, so you should rest.  And I'm sorry."

She arched an eyebrow.  "What, for back at the station?"

"That, too."

Ferdia watched him leave, puzzled.  "Hey, send Squeaks down here, okay?"  she 
called after him.  

No response.  She leaned into the hallway.  "Okay?"

The Duck continued down the hallway as if he hadn't heard her.  Several passing 
crew members, however, turned to look in her direction.   Their eyes told her 
what their words wouldn't.  She stumbled back into the room, watching as the 
doors swished shut.

"No...."

**********

She was still backing away when a hand rested on her shoulder.  She whirled, 
knocking the hand away and grabbing her weapon in one fluid motion.

"Easy!" the intruder yelped, raising his hands in surrender.  

"Squeaks!" She caught him in an enthusiastic hug.  "You're okay!  I was 
beginning to think you were dead!"

Her partner returned the embrace awkwardly.  "Er...right.  So does the rest of the 
ship.  They had me under lockdown, so I escaped and faked my death.  How're 
you?"

Ferdia re-holstered her revolver.  "Tired and hungry.  How'd you get in here?"

"Well..." an uncomfortable look.

"Air ducts?" A nod.  "Ha!  Never thought I'd get ya to do something that cliché.  
Did you see my ship?"

"I did.  Mind if I ask how-"

"Would you believe this desperately drunk mole traded it for one of my tail 
feathers?"

Squeaks laughed.  *That* certainly explained what the delegates in the marketplace had been looking for.

"Well, he did!"

"I believe you!  So, what do you think of her?  How's she handle?"

"Great!  She's a lot like a jet fighter, with the glass canopy an' all.  And the 
R2 makes dodging attacks a cinch!"

Squeaks arched an eyebrow.  "You realize they're both centuries old, right?"

"You're kidding."  Squeaks shook his head.  "Wow.  So...what do we do now?"

"We wait.  The crew thinks I'm dead, so they're not gonna come looking for me - 
and they'll probably avoid you as long as possible so avoid breaking the news.  
The computer says we're a little over twenty hours from Galaxia, so you've got 
plenty of time to rest.  As long as you don't mind me crashing here.  I'm sick 
of crawling through vents."

"I'll bet.  Alright, you can stay - as long as you make me dinner."

"Dinner?"

She shrugged.  "I've never understood how those replicators work.  Deal?"

"Deal."

"Great."  She looked around the room, spotting another door off to the side.  
"That a bathroom over there?" Squeaks nodded.  "Great.  I need a shower.  Be back in five."

**********

"Sir?  Sir?  Mister Ivan, sir?"

Ivan jolted awake at the light touch on his arm.  Straightening in his chair, he 
scowled at the rabbit backing timidly away.  "What?" he snapped.

Lita stopped backing up and stood at attention.  "I - I was wondering what you 
plan to do with me once we reach Galaxia."

"You're staying here as long as I've got these ships, kid.  Unless you'd rather 
go back."

She shook her head furiously.  "N-no, I don't.  I hate it on her ship.  She 
treats us like we're second-class citizens.  I was, um...kind of wondering if I 
could join you crew permanently?"

Ivan arched an eyebrow.  "I spend most of my time planet-side, kid.  I'm not 
gonna have much use for a spaceship pilot.  And you're too young to fly any of 
my aircraft."

"I'm fifteen cycles old!  Sixteen, almost!  And...and I could learn to do other 
things!"

"Yeah, Boss," the Sign Holder piped up, "She's got really good aim.  Maybe she 
could be a mercenary or a hetman or something."

"Enforcers need spines, kid."

"Snipers don't.  Sir."

Ivan looked from the rabbit to the young kiwi and back again.  He really didn't 
need another minor on the payroll.  Hell, social services and child labor 
lawyers were already harassing him enough.  Not to mention the fact that her 
appearance would be hard to explain.  Though their world hosted many sentient 
species, rabbits were not among them.  She'd be hard to hide.   Then again, he 
thought, remembering her performance manning the ship's weapons, the awkward 
teen had potential.  He sighed.

"Fine, kid, you win.  You're in.  But-" he cut in over the cheers, "you're gonna 
need to grow some backbone.  I've got no time for the timid.  Got that?"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

**********

Ferdia yawned, picking at the last bits of food on the plate.  "Y'know, Squeaks, 
I'd say you're a good cook, but I get the feeling that's like telling someone 
they're great at heating up TV dinners."

Squeaks nodded.  "More or less.  Although they've improved since I left.  My 
ship would've taken the same instructions and returned with something akin to 
cafeteria food."

"Ah.  I'll be sure to leave the replicator a big tip, then," she laughed.  "How 
much longer you figure we have until we catch up with Galaxia?"

"A couple hours.  And I need to rethink my plan of action."

"Hmm?"

Squeaks pushed his plate onto the low table and sat on the plush couch behind 
him.  Across the table, Ferdia sat cross-legged on an overstuffed, oversized 
footstool, chewing her desert thoughtfully and regarding him quizzically.  "What 
plan?" 

He leaned back, shrugging.  "The original plan was to escape, get into the main 
computer room, seal it off, take control of the ship, and go back for you."

Ferdia laughed.  "I'm touched.  But wouldn't it've been easier to just take the 
captain's yacht?  It's unguarded, easy to get to, faster and better-defended 
than shuttles - "

"- and it can cloak," Squeaks finished, shaking his head.  "Oops."

"So are you going to let them know you're not dead?"

"No.  Not yet, anyway.  We'll guilt-trip them a bit longer.  But we've got to 
get back to charted space, and then back on-planet.  This ship is more than 
capable of dealing with Galaxia's ship - as well as the Bagel ship enroute to 
her position - but we'll have a problem if Mallard decides to beam just you back 
home."

Ferdia folded her arms defiantly.  "I won't let him do that.  I plan on taking 
my ship with me," she thought a minute.  "Maybe you could hitch a ride in it - 
there's some room behind the pilot's seat..."

"After listening to you complain about cramped quarters?  Pass."

"You wouldn't be in it that long!"  Squeaks folded his arms.  "Fine, fine....
Maybe Ivan would beam you over to his ship."

Squeaks sat up. "Ivan!  I'd forgotten about him!  Galaxia gave him a ship?"

"Three of 'em.  Evidently he was playing pirate for a while, but now he just 
wants to get back home.  He was headed toward Galaxia's position when I went 
after you guys."

"As much as I hate to admit it, he may be our best option for now."

**********

D'Gal practically threw Galaxia at the Battle Room's tactical display.  
Stumbling for her balance, she slammed into the holoprojector's table with all 
the grace of a rag doll, skewing its display.  Pushing herself up, she whirled 
on D'Gal angrily.

"What the hell do you think you're-"

"Shut up!  Just shut up and listen!  See those dots headed for us?" he growled, 
pointing to the holographic display, "Know who they are?"

Galaxia ignored the artificial starfield.  "Of course I do!  Those are the 
Bagels, you idiot!"

"*That* one is," D'Gal allowed, indicating one of the larger forms, "and these 
three belong to that useless gray-feathered pirate you just *had* to hire.  But 
guess what *this* one is," he tapped at another large streaking dot.

She rolled her eyes.  "I *despise* guessing games, Duck.  Just get to the 
point."

"*Fine*," he said icily, "It's a Duck ship.  *Mallard's* ship.  Remember them?" 
his asked  condescendingly, "The ones that kicked the crap out of this ship a 
few days ago?  That ring any bells?"

"Don't take that tone with me!  Of course I remember them!  But this time we'll 
have the Bagels to defend us!"

D'Gal snorted derisively.  "Pfft!  The Bagels!  If their ships were any good 
against the Ducks, they wouldn't need that wormhole-generator they had us grab!  
If we leave *now*, the Ducks just *might* not find us!"

"Leave?  *Leave?!?*  And just *where* would you have us go?"

"*Anywhere* but here!"

"Might I remind you that we have absolutely *no idea* where we are?"

"So?  We find an asteroid belt an wait there!"

"And miss the Bagels and our only chance home?  Just because *you're* afraid the 
D-"

"*I* am not afraid of anything, female!  But in case you've forgotten, we've 
used up all our artillery.  And ships' phasers on a Duck vessel are about as 
effective as slingshots and name-calling.  So unless you're planning another 
little space-time jump, we're nothing more than sitting ducks."

Galaxia glowered at him.  "We're not going anywhere.  The Bagels *will* get here 
first, and we'll simply set the device to their home coordinates and leave the 
Ducks here.  Now, if you're quite finished, **I** have more *important* things 
to do."  

She turned and stalked out of the room, pausing at the door.  "And, D'Gal?  
Rough up my crew all you want, but touch me again and I'll have you tossed out 
an airlock.  Got it?"

D'Gal glared at her retreating form until the doors swished shut behind her.  
Turning his attention to the holographic display, he looked at the ships again 
and muttered a curse.  Given their relative distances and velocities, the Bagels 
*might* outpace the Ducks - but only by a matter of minutes.  That was cutting 
it close.  If they were at all delayed, the battle would be as brief as it was 
bloody- and it could quite possibly cost him his head.  He slammed his fist into 
the table in frustration, watching as the hologram flickered. 

"No, Galaxia.  The next time you maneuver us into something this stupid, *I'll* 
toss *you* out an airlock - personally."

**********

The Entroprise streaked through the stars at Warp 6, her top speed.  The light 
from far-off stars reflected off her streamlined hull, making her gleam like a 
freshly polished model as she sped toward her destination.  The sleek ship was 
the newly-finished flagship of the Bagel Empire, its design surpassing its 
predecessors in every aspect.  Her stolen stealth systems made detecting her 
presence without a visual confirmation almost as difficult as detecting a Duck 
ship itself, and while she could not quite keep pace with a Duck ship, her tail-
mounted defense weaponry would make pursuing her...perilous, at best.

All this did nothing to ease her captain's worries, however.  He ordered another 
system-wide check and had engineering run a third inspection of the engines.  
Galaxia was carrying very valuable cargo, and the Entroprise's scanners had 
already detected ships set to her coordinates.  For all her touted superiority, 
his ship was still untested in battle - and if pirates were already headed for 
the Duckhawk, there was no telling who else might be considering taking a look 
at the wounded ship.

An ensign called to report Galaxia's ship was now registering on their scanners.  
Good.  Another reported the "pirates" closing on her position had the registries 
of the decoys the spy had left port with.  Even better.  Galaxia had probably 
just recalled her diversion-causing allies for the trip back to charted space.  
This particular region *was* rather far from known space, and Galaxia would risk 
the wrath of the thieves' guild if she left the rogues stranded here.  They were 
no threat to his ship.

Before his sigh of relief could reach his lips, however, a report of more 
contacts came in.  One looked to be a worn pirate fighter of the same model as 
the other pirates, but bore no registry.  A rogue gone rogue, perhaps?  Most 
pirates at least bothered to create a fake registry, unless they wanted to be 
singled out.  He mentally filed that one as a potential threat.  The other 
contact was less readily identifiable, however.  The ensign that had reported it 
had done so because of an unusual rift in the flow of space-time - not because a 
ship had been detected.  However, when asked to confirm the contact, the ensign 
could not locate the phenomenon again, and the captain thus.

The Duckhawk slid into view as it made its way around the moon it orbited, and 
the Bagel captain ordered his ship out of warp, dismissing the ensign's unusual 
contact as a fluke misdiagnosed by an over-enthusiastic and under-experienced 
rookie.

**********

D'Gal reached the bridge just as the Bagel ship appeared onscreen.  From her 
seat at the bridge's center, Galaxia shot him her best "I told you so" look.

"See?  The Bagels are here, and the only ships behind them are Ivan's fighters."

"The only ships you can detect, you mean," he retorted.  

Ignoring both him and the nervous shudders of her crew, Galaxia hailed the 
approaching vessel.

**********

"So nice to see you again, Empress," the Bagel captain gushed.  The spy had a 
tendency to get upset over little mishaps like the one that had flung her here.  
And with that trigger-happy maniac D'Gal as her weapons officer, he wanted to 
appear as genuinely sorry about the incident as was diplomatically possible.  
And a little flattery couldn't hurt, either.

"We seem to be a bit ahead of you decoys, Empress.  If you have no objections, 
we would like to transfer your 'catch' over now."

"We do object," D'Gal stated before Galaxia could get a word in, "You'll get 
your precious new toy once we're back in charted space."

The Bagel captain watched as Galaxia turned in her chair to glare at her 
'subordinate.'  The renegade Duck never *had* been willing to take orders; he 
wasn't surprised D'Gal's involvement with the Bagels had failed to change that. 
Clearing his throat, the Bagel captain continued on.

"In that case, we will guide your engineers in programming the device to the 
Motherworld."

"The 'motherworld?'" a voice cut in, "How 'bout the coordinates to *our* world?"

**********

Galaxia growled, accepting the third party's transmission on a smaller 
viewscreen.  Ivan's scowling image immediately appeared onscreen.

"I'm gettin' tired of all this," he stated, "Oh, interstellar piracy is rather 
interesting, I'll give it that.  But this is the sort of thing I employ 
underlings to do, and at the moment, they're enjoying an underserved vacation at 
my expense.  And wasting my time living out "Lost in Space" was never part of 
our bargain.  My pilot here tells me the Bagel homeworld is off in its own area 
of uncharted space.  If nothing else, I want a map back to my corner of the 
galaxy."

Galaxia scowled, but the Bagel captain, who had overheard the kiwi's rant, 
merely nodded.

"That had not occurred to us.  We of course would rather not allow outsiders to 
learn where our world lies.  And perhaps direct coordinates would allow our 
location to be traced," he mused, thinking of the other ship still enroute to 
their position, "The device will be programmed to the coordinates of your 
homeworld, pirate.  We will take possession of it from there."

With that, the Bagel ship routed its transmission to engineering, instructing 
them on the handling of the stolen weapon.  Galaxia glared at the gray bird.

"You realize," Ivan continued, "that we probably weren't the only ones who 
intercepted that transmission of yours.  Are you *looking* to get caught?"

Without even turning around, Galaxia knew D'Gal was nodding in grim agreement.  

She waved her hand dismissively.  "The Ducks aren't bright enough to scan 
interstellar communications."  

D'Gal glared at her murderously.  Catching the look, Ivan smiled amusedly before 
throwing a sly grin at Galaxia.

"You sure about that?"

Galaxia's brow furrowed.  Of course she was sure about it!  It wasn't SpaceFleet 
policy!  D'Gal only thought to do it because D'Gal was, well, *D'Gal*.  He made 
a living by eavesdropping on such communications.  But still....

"Do you have any information to the contrary?"

"No," Ivan said smoothly, "Why would I?"

**********

As Galaxia cut the transmission, both Lita and the Sign Holder turned to look at 
him in shock.

"Sir, what about the detective?" the Sign Holder asked.

"Why didn't you tell Galaxia she knew and was going after the Ducks?" Lita 
echoed.

Ivan grinned wickedly.  "Because, kids.  If she's that stupid, it's better we 
let natural selection run its course.  Survival of the Fittest, and all."

"But-" Lita began.

"No buts, kid.  As long as I get home, I could care less what happens to 
Galaxia.  Besides, her security officer looked bright enough.  He'll monitor for 
the Ducks."

 "D'Gal?" she looked doubtful.  "D'Gal hates everybody.  He *wants* to fight the 
Ducks."

Ivan frowned at his new minion.  "Lesson 1, kid: don't question my decisions.  
Just do as you're told.  Now, make sure we're close enough to their ships.  I 
don't want to be left behind."

"Yessir."  She turned back to her work.

The Sign Holder, on the other hand, continued to gaze questioningly at his boss. 
"Sir?"

Leaning back in the captain's chair, Ivan looked over at his aspiring young 
protégé.  "What?" he shrugged, "Just because I'm a villain doesn't mean I can't 
root for the good guys every now and again.  And besides," he grinned deviously, 
"life would be a lot less interesting without those two detectives around."

The Sign Holder arched an eyebrow.  "If you say so, Sir."

**********

"There she is," Mallard breathed, eyeing the viewscreen, "and with all her 
pirates and a Bagel ship to boot.  Slow to impulse," he ordered, a thin smile 
spreading across his beak.  "We'll sneak up on them."

"Sir!" an ensign yelped, pointing to the viewscreen as a speeding ship shot into 
view from beneath their left wing, nearly colliding with the cloaked Duck ship 
as it skimmed along their shields.  The small ship zoomed towards the clustered 
ships, completely unaware of the danger they had been in.  Shields or no, the 
little pirate was built for speed, not size, and would have been nothing more 
than a bug on the Ducks' windshield had the two ships collided.

**********

Beak lunged for the ship's controls, deactivating the autopilot in time to 
swerve the ship away from unseen danger.  The ship skimmed along some invisible 
mass, its shields screaming as they fought to maintain the hull's integrity.

"Beak!" Iiwi batted him away from the controls as the ship shook with turbulence 
from the shields' repulsion.  "What're you *doing*?!?"

"Yeah, there's nothing out there!" Bob complained, indicating the nearly-empty 
starfield ahead, "No stars, no chunks of rock, not even ships - well, except for 
those up there, but they're too far away and they're not shooting at us.  
There's no reason to start flying like Iiwi!"

Iiwi fluffed her feathers indignantly, warbling what could only be called a 
growl.  

"You don't understand!" Beak objected, "Something was there!  I could sense it!  
We just can't see it!"

"So...it's invisible," Ferdie supplied.  "Kind of like Klingon ships on tv, 
right?  Can we do that?"

"No," Beak said thoughtfully, "You can't.  Even the Empire can't do that.  But 
I've heard some adventurers speak of a race of birds that supposedly could.  
Ducks, I think, or geese....or they could have been swans....seagulls, maybe?  I 
don't remember.  Does it matter?"

"It *would* if they're the ducks that have my sister!" Ferdie yelled.

"I thought Galaxia had your sister."

"Bob, we were just gonna ask her if she knew anything about the duck that was 
seen in the alley!  But," Iiwi thought a moment, "if she was being chased by the 
duck then, maybe she's still being chased, and he's in whatever we just flew 
by!"

"So...Ferdia's in the invisible ship we just passed?" 

"Either that or Mr. Jedi here just saved us from an errant refrigerator magnet."

"Miss Iiwi, there was something big there.  I'm certain of it!" an indignant 
Beak argued.

"In that case," Ferdie pushed his way to the controls, "Let's get 'em!"

**********

The small, beaten pirate fighter had almost reached the cluster of her sister 
ships when she veered sharply, turning a full 180 degrees and activating her 
weapons systems.  

The Bagel captain, having been informed that one of the fighter's occupants was 
one of Galaxia's, had long since stopped paying attention to the late-comer and 
was newly-alarmed when it whirled around with weapons blazing.  

In the Duckhawk, however, D'Gal had seen the fighter dodge unexpectedly moments 
before the maneuver, and cut their transmissions to the Bagels as he raised the 
shields and sounded red alert.  Galaxia's indignant protest stopped mid-sentence 
as the Duck ship decloaked, returning fire and sending everyone into a frantic 
state of panic.

**********

The ship's dodge was unexpected, to say the least.  Mallard attributed it to a 
combination of stolen systems software, drunkenly brash flying, and sheer luck.  
But when the fighter then whirled around and opened fire, hitting his ship while 
it was still cloaked, still invisible and undetectable, he was floored.  
Literally.  

A cloaked, traveling ship keeps its shields set low to conserve power and avoid 
alarming passing ships.  With her shields this low, the Duck ship was taking 
damage to her hull.  She was also pitching about wildly, each staggering blast 
jolting the ship anew.

Picking himself up off the floor, Mallard climbed back into the captain's chair 
as the blasts continued to rock the ship.  Ordering the shields to full power, 
he had the ship decloak.

And that, in truth, was when all Hell broke loose.

**********

"Ack!" Iiwi squawked, lunging for the controls, "Ferdie, what the hell are you 
*thinking*?!?  Look at that thing, it'll rip us apart!"

"Yeah!" Bob yelled, pushing the blue bird away from the console.  "And I'm too 
cute to die!"

Blasts tore past the ship, slowly whittling away its shields as the ship bucked 
and wheeled, Iiwi fighting for the controls as Ferdie steadfastly refused to be 
dragged away from them.  

"But my sister's on that ship!" Ferdie yelled, kicking Bob away only to find 
himself lifted into the air and hurled to the far end of the ship.  Looking 
around for his assailant, he noticed Beak standing calmly by the ship's shields 
console, one finger raised in a scolding gesture.

"Don't make me do that again," the Jedi warned.

More blasts rocked the ship, from both directions now, as the small fighter 
wheeled around and dove for cover amongst her now-scattering sister ships.  For 
a ship just beginning a battle, her shields were lower than was advisable.

**********

"Where the hell did *that* come from?!?" Ivan yelled, jolting his ships' impulse 
engines to life in an attempt to escape the volley of phaser bursts tearing past 
the newcomer and pummeling the clustered rogues.

"It looks like one of Galaxia's fighters!" Lita yelled back, boosting their 
shields and bringing the weapons systems online.

"Not *that* one, furball!  The one *behind* it!"

"Oh....that's a Duck ship!"

"And that's bad, right?" the Sign Holder piped up.

"Inasmuch as they're the ones the Bagels are at war with and we're on the 
Bagels' side, yes!"

Ivan shook his head.  This venture just kept getting worse.  He severed the 
tractor beams holding his other ships in tow.

"Here, kid, take care of one of the Beta fighters!  You too, rabbit!  Oughta 
even the odds up a bit!"

Lita realigned the ships' control layouts to comply, protesting the futility of 
the gesture as she did so.  "It doesn't matter how many ships we have!  The 
Ducks'll still have us out-gunned!"

"The point of this isn't to win, kid!  It's to buy us enough time for Galaxia to 
charge up that gizmo of hers and get us outta here!"

"It *still* isn't going to work," Lita mumbled.

**********

"The Ducks!" Galaxia yelped.  "How?"

"I *told* you **how**," D'Gal growled from his post.  "Engineering!  Get that 
thing fired up already!"

"We're workin' on it, sir!" came the garbled reply.

"Well, hurry it up!" Galaxia yelled back, "We're running out of time!"

From his station at the security / weapons console, D'Gal caught her eye and 
gave her a fatalistic grin.

"Don't say it, Duck.  Just *don't*."

"I *told* you so."

**********

When the ship slid out of warp, they'd known they were close to Galaxia's 
position.  But the jolts and explosions echoing over the sirens of red alert 
caught them off-guard.  Blasts slammed into the hull both aft and below their 
quarters, tearing through the residential sectors and leaving raging fires and 
depressurizing gashes in their wake.

"What the hell?!?" Ferdia yelped, throwing her arms out to catch herself on a 
wall as the ship took another hit, "Someone's shooting at us!"

"Guess they knew we were coming," Squeaks made his way to the door, "Come on!  
If nothing else, we've got to get to an undamaged sector before we're sealed 
off!"

**********

The Bagel captain ordered his ship to attack, advancing on the Duck ship even as 
it closed in.  The Entroprise's designers had touted her as the first Bagel ship 
capable of holding its own against the Invisible Ducks.  Here was his chance to 
prove them right.

"Throw everything you've got at her!  *Now*, while she's still trying to 
recover!  FIRE!"

**********

Galaxia watched the battle play out on the viewscreen.  To her surprise, D'Gal 
wasn't even bothering to return the Ducks' fire.  He was too busy leaching power 
from other systems to bolster the Duckhawk's shields and screaming at 
Engineering to get the wormhole-generator charged already.

She wasn't about to tell him to do otherwise.  He wouldn't listen to her anyway, 
and their puny phaser blasts probably wouldn't do much to aid the other ships.

Ivan's fighters had scattered almost immediately.  The trio tore across the 
screen in every which way, obviously no longer under central control.  Not a 
very effective offensive strategy, but it gave the Ducks more targets to shoot 
at and seemed to be keeping any one fighter from taking a disproportionate 
amount of damage.  

The damaged fighter that had initiated the attack was less fortunate.  It 
waffled between charging the Duck ship and hastily retreating, as if its 
occupants were in disagreement over their course of action.  As a result, it was 
taking a heavy amount of fire, and the sparks rippling along its hull betrayed 
its failing shields.

**********

"We can't take much more of this!" Beak yelled, tossing Ferdie away from the 
controls again.  "Your shields weren't in the best of shape to begin with, might 
I remind you!"

"I'm doing my best to get out of their way!" Iiwi squawked, "But unless someone 
nails Ferdie to the wall, we're not gonna make it!"

"But my sister!"

"She's not on that ship, okay?!?" Bob yelled, pushing the blue bird towards the 
back of the bridge, "We have no reason to think she is!  So stop trying to get 
us *flamen-gebursted!*"

"But-" Ferdie began, as the doors to the bridge swished open.  Ignoring his 
protests, Bob sent the bluebird sprawling into the hallway.

"No buts," the kiwi advised, "Just stay there until we call you, okay?"

The doors swished shut an instant before Ferdie reached them, sealing him out of 
the bridge.

**********

"Focus your attention on Galaxia's ship!" Captain Mallard ordered, "We need to 
disable her before she uses that new weapon of hers again!"

"Sir, heavy damage reported in Sectors 13 through 37!" an ensign yelled.  "We've 
got fires throughout the residential sectors, and Engineering reports one of our 
generators is failing!"

"Captain, the Bagel ship is advancing!" Drake yelled, as the massive flagship 
slid forward, shielding the Duckhawk from fire.  

Keeping itself between the Ducks and the spy's ship, the twin-nacelled saucer 
advanced on them, unleashing scores of nearly every type of known weapons and a 
handful of unknown ones.  Phasers and photon bursts chipped away at the Ducks' 
shields; phase-modulating photon torpedoes and quantum mines slipped right 
through the bleeding shields and tore into the hull.

"Looks like they've been busy, sir!  She's giving us quite a beating!" Drake 
informed his captain.

"Let's hope they haven't thought to move their power generators, then!" Mallard 
returned, "Target just above her weapons bay, and return fire!"

**********

Ivan dodged the Ducks' fire, turning only to find his ship on a collision course 
with the Bagel ship.  He dove out of the way, leveling out beneath the massive 
ship and wheeling around for another pass.  In doing so, he noticed one of his 
fighters trailing smoke.

"Hey, which ship is that?  Stay out of the way if you're that badly damaged!  I 
don't want to lose any cargo!"

"It's not mine," the Sign Holder called from his station, watching the ship 
onscreen.

"Mine neither," Lita reported.  

"Well, it's not *this* ship, so who the hell is it?"

"Let me find out, sir," Lita said, punching in a few commands, "Scanning....it's 
not registered, sir.  Let me see if I can get a readout on its crew..."

As the readouts began scrolling on a side viewscreen, the damaged fighter's 
shields collapsed in one final burst of energy.  It rolled quickly, pitching and 
weaving in a renewed effort to dodge the blasts that were now connecting 
directly with its failing hull.

Ivan read the readouts worriedly.  "Can we beam someone over with our shields 
raised?" he questioned the rabbit.

"Yessir, but I can't get a positive identification on anyone, just on the crew's 
relative positions."

"Then beam them all over.  Now!" he yelled, an instant before an errant torpedo 
slammed into the wounded fighter, obliterating it in a fiery blast.

"Damn!  Did you get them?  Tell me you got them!"

"I got em," Lita assured her captain.

**********

"What the?  Where are we?"  Iiwi questioned, looking about her.  Gold glittered 
all around them, mixed in with the rich colors of gems and other expensive-
looking items.

"Maybe we're in heaven?"  Ferdie asked.

"No, because *you're* here, and *you're* the reason we got killed!" Bob yelled.

Beak calmly dusted himself off and looked around.  "Kind of looks like a cargo 
hold."

"Now that you mention it, it does!  It looks a lot like ours, in fact!"  Iiwi 
said, reaching for one of the glistening objects, "Except it's got better 
décor."
	
Bob ignored the finery.  He wanted to know just *whose* ship they were on.  It 
wouldn't do to have the very duck they'd been attacking find them in his cargo 
hold.  His eyes scanned the walls.  "Look, there's a door!"

"Great!  Let's get out of here and back to the action!"

**********

The foursome tore down the hallway.  With each step they took, they became more 
certain of their heading - this ship, regardless of how they had wound up in it, 
was identical to theirs.  That made locating the bridge easy, and, though Beak 
urged them to slow to a more defendable pace, the trip was rather short.  
Ignoring the Jedi's words of caution, they burst through the doors and onto the 
bridge.

**********

One of the things Ivan didn't like about this ship was that it was completely 
soundproofed.  While that was no doubt an excellent way to keep petty 
distractions from drawing the crew's attention, it also masked the footsteps of 
anyone approaching the bridge.  He barely had time to whirl around and face the 
door before the newcomers reacted.

"Ivan!"  Iiwi squawked, skidding to a halt a few feet inside the room.  Those 
behind her were slower to react, slamming into each other and sending the group 
sprawling to the floor.  Well, most of them, anyway.  A bird he didn't recognize 
hung back in the entryway.

Iiwi struggled out from under the pile and got to her feet, pointing a wing at 
him accusingly.  "What are *you* doing here?!?"

Ivan smirked. "Just saving your tail feathers, Redbird." 

Iiwi scowled.  Behind her, Ferdie and Bob folded their arms.  "What are you 
*really* doing here?" Bob asked.

"Getting shot at, same as you, Bob."

"Hey..." Ferdie began, looking at the viewscreens, "You're not firing at anybody!"

"I know," Ivan said, bringing the ship to the relative safety of the Duckhawk's 
shadow before rising and approaching the detectives.  "I'm just adding to the 
confusion.  The big dogs can duke it out by themselves, but if they take out 
Galaxia's ship, we're stuck out here.  And I, for one, have had *enough* of 
space travel."

"Hrmph.  You've just run out of people to steal from!" Bob yelled.

"Steal?  *Moi*?"

"The stuff in the cargo hold!  You stole it!"

"Bah!  Says you, detective," Ivan sniffed, "You've no way of proving that wasn't there when I got these ships, much less that any of it's stolen.  And even if you *could*, what makes you think anyone back home is gonna believe that I used a *spaceship* to steal from *aliens*, eh?"

Bob stammered, angry but unable to argue the point.  Iiwi, on the other hand, 
caught the references to Galaxia and home.

"Wait...so that's Galaxia out there?" she asked, pointing at the Duckhawk, "and 
she can get us home?"

"Nice to see that *someone's* paying attention," Ivan muttered to himself.  He 
jerked his head at Beak. "Who're you?"

"Never mind that," Ferdie cut in, "We can't leave yet!  I've got to find 
Ferdia!"

Ivan cocked an eyebrow at the blue bird. "Last I heard, she was getting onto 
that Duck ship.  Something happen since then?"

"The Duck ship?  *That* ship?" Ferdie pointed to the viewscreen, "The ship 
you're *firing* at?!?"

Ivan crossed his arms defensively.  "*I'm* not firing at anyone, detective.  I'm 
just drawing attention.  That's all I was asked to do, that's all I wanna do, 
and that's all I'm gonna do.  And you're *welcome*."

"For what?" Bob asked.

"For saving your necks.  Just don't tell anyone, eh?  It'd make me look bad."

**********

The Bagel captain tried hailing Galaxia's ship again.  No response.  Evidently 
they thought it more prudent to dedicate their full attention to charging the 
wormhole generator.  

Very well.  He didn't need to know how that was proceeding.  His ship was doing 
a fine job holding off the Ducks, who had stopped firing at the fighters that 
darted annoyingly across the battlefield.  Instead they were now concentrating 
on stopping the phase-modulating artillery the Bagels continued to lob at them.  
But he knew the Ducks.  The defensive tactics meant they were planning 
something, and with the Invisible Ducks, that was never good.

Suddenly, the Duck ship swung around, diving at them.  The captain's faith in 
his ship's shields dissolved as he saw the blue streaks of phased torpedoes 
headed for his ship's power generators, vulnerably housed close to the bow's 
hull.  The Bagel captain ordered evasive maneuvers, well aware that his ship was 
too big to successfully dodge the onslaught.  

True to form, the ship veered, darting away from some of the torpedoes and 
deflecting several of them into her sides, away from their power source.  But a 
few torpedoes hit pay dirt, boring through their hull and ripping through their 
generators.

The explosion was vast, shaking the entire ship and wiping out all systems' 
power.  The lights flickered back on dimly, screens, communications, and other 
systems coming back slowly.  His chief engineer appeared onscreen, bloodied but 
calm in contrast to his compatriots, who scattered and screamed in the 
background.  The main power generator had been wiped out, he reported.  
Fortunately, the Entroprise had backup generators scattered throughout the ship, 
and while they couldn't generate enough juice to fully restore all systems, the 
ship could continue the fight almost unimpeded.  But he recommended they leave 
before they incurred much more damage.

At that moment, Galaxia hailed the ship.  The weapon was fully charged, she 
reported.  If he could drive the Ducks back a bit, they could fold out, leaving 
the Ducks stranded.

Excellent.  He ordered most of the Entroprise's remaining artillery fired, and 
as the Ducks dodged away from the barrage of hull-piercing torpedoes, he saw a 
familiar glow begin emanating from the Duckhawk.

**********

Commodore Mallard noticed it, too.  As the fiery glow radiated outward and 
encompassed the clustered ships, he ordered his ship around, plunging through 
the swarm of torpedoes to reach the swirling vortex before it winked out of 
existence.

**********

"They're not gonna make it!" Ferdie yelled, struggling to catch sight of the 
Ducks through the growing wall of fire, "They'll be stuck here!"

"They'd find their way back eventually," Ivan commented offhandedly, ignoring 
the display as he tightened his restraining belts.  This ride was a bumpy one, 
if he remembered correctly.

Bob glared at his gray-feathered nemesis.  "You're *not* helping!" he growled, 
turning to Ferdie and clapping a reassuring hand on his back.  "They'll make 
it." 

"I just hope they make it in one piece," Iiwi said, grimacing as torpedoes 
slammed into the Duck ship, tearing sizable gashes in its hull as it fought to 
reach the clustered ships.

"They'll be lost forever!" Ferdie wailed, grabbing Beak and sobbing into the 
Jedi's robe.  

Beak pushed him away absently, watching the void as it pulsed outward, expanding 
once more before quickly spiraling back into itself, drawing the ships toward 
its glowing center.  

As the Duck ship streaked towards it, its whirling increased in speed, rapidly 
shrinking the size of the tear as its light intensified.  The vortex pulsed, 
dispersing the light in a surrounding sphere before collapsing on itself, 
leaving only an empty starfield in its wake.

**********

An instant later and millions of light-years away, the vortex reappeared, 
tearing through space-time in a fiery blaze that spat out its passengers before 
winking out of existence.

The ships tumbled forward, recovering quickly as their systems came back online. 
Inside each ship, dazed occupants took a bit longer to collect their bearings.

**********

"Where are we?  Did we make it back?"  Iiwi asked, eagerly flitting to a console 
to scan the region.  The blue world looming in front of them certainly *looked* 
like home, but so did every other living planet they'd seen on this journey.

As she waited for the scans, Ivan tried a more direct route.  Tapping into a 
passing satellite's systems, he found a communications bird, rerouted its feed 
to the viewscreen, and was instantly rewarded with the image of a perky CNN 
newscaster standing in front of the Statue of Liberty, which currently had a 
small plane nestled in its crown.  

Ivan frowned, peering at the screen as the camera zoomed in.  "Certainly *looks* 
like our world.  I don't recognize the reporter, but that's *definitely* New 
York."

A cheer went up among them, the other ships temporarily forgotten.  Ivan looked 
at the crash scene again, shaking his head.  That statue had been the first 
thing immigrants entering the country had seen, a symbol of hope and opportunity 
in the New World.  And while *his* first glimpse of America had been the face of 
a sailor furious at finding a stowaway, once he'd reached the shore and pulled 
himself out of the water, the statue had been there, looming far overhead as if 
to remind him that he needed to find a way across the bay now that he'd been 
thrown off the ship.  Why he got sentimental about it was beyond him, but he 
still couldn't help feeling inspired every time he saw it.  "At least the statue 
wasn't damaged that badly," he muttered.

The ship shook suddenly, reminding them of the battle they were evidently still 
engaged in.  Killing the satellite feed, Ivan called the starfield back onscreen 
again.  And was as surprised as the detectives at what he saw.

"The double-cross," he breathed.

The Bagel ship had opened fire on the Duckhawk.

**********

"Hey!" Galaxia squawked, angrily addressing the Bagel captain on the screen, 
"*What* are you **doing**?!?"

"My apologies," he replied, as the Duckhawk's shields collapsed, "But the Ducks 
made it through the wormhole, and I'm not about to risk losing this to them.  
Not *now*."

"They're beaming the generator off the ship!" D'Gal yelled, furious.  "You're 
just going to leave us here, aren't you," he growled at the Bagel captain.

"Of course," the captain said, smiling.  "Our power supply is fully charged and 
ready to power our escape.  The Motherworld will commend me for successfully 
retrieving the wormhole generator."

"But what about us?!?" Galaxia demanded.

"Think of yourselves as the Ducks' consolation prize."

"*WHAT?!?*"

"I'm sure you're familiar with the concept of a fall guy, D'Gal.  Kindly explain 
it to your 'captain'," the Bagel smirked, cutting the transmission.  Seconds 
later, the Bagel ship activated the generator, the vortex quickly forming around 
the lone ship as it folded out.

**********

"*No!*" Galaxia yelled, pounding her chair's armrests in anger.  She turned to 
her security officer.  "They can't *do* that!"

"They can do anything they want, Galaxia.  That's what makes them the bad guys," 
D'Gal commented wryly.

Galaxia glanced at the ship approaching in their viewscreen.  "The Ducks!  
Quick, warp us out of here!"

"Certainly.  As soon as our systems recover from the drain that generator put 
them through.  Until then, the best we can do is impulse."

"That won't do any good!" she shouted, punching the engines to maximum impulse 
as the Duck ship closed the distance between them.

The ship obliged grudgingly, its lights flickering.  In response, the Ducks 
opened fire, the shots singeing the hull.  Then, suddenly, the ship lurched to a 
halt.

"What the-" Galaxia began.

"Tractor beam," D'Gal finished.  Cutting the ship's engines - they were no good 
now, not in a tractor beam - he rerouted the power supplies and exited the 
bridge.

**********

"Got her!"  Drake yelled, clapping the ensign guiding the tractor beam on their 
back.

"Yes, but we missed the Bagel ship, and they were the ones that had the weapon," 
Mallard replied.  "The Federation won't be too pleased about that."

"Maybe not, but they won't be too upset at our catch, either."

"Galaxia isn't much of a catch."

"No.  But D'Gal *is*."

"True," Mallard conceded.  "Tow the ship in."

**********

Bob Kiwi watched from inside Ivan's ship.

"Shouldn't we help them?" he asked.

"Nope," Ivan replied, his attention focused on the planet below.  "As far as the 
Ducks are concerned, we're pirates, remember?"

"Oh."

"Besides, I for one have had *enough* of space.  I want nothing more right now 
than to get back to my city, where all you can see of the night sky is smog and 
skyscrapers."

"Still..."

Ivan ignored him.  "Hey, rabbit!  Land the ships, one at a time, at the 
coordinates I give you."

"Yessir," Lita replied, guiding the first ship into the atmosphere.

"I suppose there's no point in asking you not to do that," Ferdie pouted.

"None whatsoever, detective.  So just sit back and enjoy the ride.  I'll call ya 
a taxi when we land."

**********

"D'Gal!  Where do you think you're-" Galaxia stumbled as the ship lurched 
backwards.  "We're moving!" she yelped.

Ahead of her, D'Gal yelled over his shoulder, his pace never slowing.  "The 
Ducks are reeling us in!"

She ran to catch up with him.  "So where are you going!?"

"To do my job," he spat, halting before the door to the security office.

"Like hell you are!  Your job is to protect this ship!  Get us *out* of this!"

The doors slid open.  D'Gal headed toward the arms locker, keying in its code.  
"I'm *getting* you out of this.  The warp engines are charging now."

"Idiot!  We can't go to warp in a tractor beam!  We'll be torn apart!"

D'Gal removed most of the locker's weaponry, donning a half-dozen phasers, 
phaser-cannons, multi-bladed knives, and a mean-looking custom phaser-rifle.  "I 
*know* that, half-breed," he growled, ignoring the flash of anger in her eyes, 
"I never said you'd still be *in* the tractor beam when you went to warp."

"How *dare* you-"

"Once I've boarded their ship and killed the beam, you'll be free to warp out of 
here."  He pumped the phaser-rifle, testing it.  "I'll take the ship and catch 
up with you later." Tapping the rifle on his shoulder, he debated the need for 
further weaponry.  Deciding against it, he turned and headed out the door.

"You can't be serious!" Galaxia yelled after him, darting out into the hallway. 
 "That's a Duck flagship!  She carries a crew of over 700!  Even *you* can't 
beat *those* odds!" 

Halfway to the transported room already, D'Gal paused, turning to give her a 
sidelong glance.  "So?  If it doesn't work, I'm dead.  If we're captured, I'm 
dead anyway.  Nothing ventured, nothing gained."

"That what they call gallows humor?"

He grinned, his eyes taking on an evil gleam.  "Better a snowball's chance in 
hell than none at all," he quipped, heading into the transport room.

Galaxia shook her head, turning back towards the bridge.  "Lunatic," she 
muttered.

**********

"Sir!" an ensign yelled, pointing to her screen, "Someone just beamed onto our 
ship!"

"What!"  Mallard checked the readings.  Someone had indeed transported onto 
their ship.  "Security!  Intruder alert!  Unknown hostile is loose on the ship!  
Ensign, try to get a reading on where they transported to!"

"Yes, sir!"

Mallard tapped him combadge.  "Drake, is that away team ready yet?"

"Affirmative, captain.  Everyone's been assembled and briefed."

"Then begin beaming over there now and take control of their systems!  Someone's 
already beamed over here!  I don't want anyone else following suit!"

"Yes, sir!"

Not long after the team had finished transporting aboard the Duckhawk, the 
lights flickered.  Mallard hadn't even reached his combadge by the time 
Engineering called in.

"Captain!  We've just lost our primary and secondary power generators!"

As he spoke, a flash of light and smoke erupted from the ship's outer belly, and 
the soft green beam of light tethering the captured Duckhawk to the Duck ship 
abruptly quit.

"Captain!  Reports of explosions on the bow!  The tractor beam's array has been 
destroyed!"

"Disable all turbolifts!  Lock the emergency stairwells!" Mallard ordered, 
thumping his combadge.  "Drake!"

"I heard it, Cap'n.  Sounds like D'Gal beat us to the punch."

"I'm sending teams to the areas surrounding the tractor beam generators.  But if 
it's really D'Gal, he's already far from there.  With the Duckhawk in our 
custody, he'll want to get back to free it.  I want you to head for the shuttle 
bay.  With no shuttles, he'll have to double back, and I want you to cut him 
off."

"Yessir!"

**********

"Did you hear that?"  Ferdia asked.

Squeaks nodded.  "That's not good news.  D'Gal's taken down entire *fleets* 
before.  If he's already destroyed the generators and the tractor beam, his next 
move would normally be to take out as much of Security and the officers as he 
can.  But with the Duckhawk in the custody of the away team, he'll free her 
first."

"But the captain was wrong!  He won't be trapped!  There *is* a ship in the 
shuttle bay!  *Mine!*"

Squeaks brought up a map of the ship on the terminal in front of them, then took 
off in the direction of the shuttle bay, Ferdia right behind him.

"We're closer to the shuttle bay than Drake!  We'll take the longer route, in 
case D'Gal's avoiding the main corridors!"

"Hey, Squeaks!"

"What?"

"I was thinking...even if he's not taking our route, if he's anywhere near as 
dangerous as you said he was, your friend might need help anyway!"

"Concerned?"

"Well, I guess this *is* a form of law enforcement, and I never let my opinions 
of an officer get in the way of protecting them!...Besides, he needs to live 
long enough for me to kick his tail in a rematch!"

**********

D'Gal stood in the shuttle bay.  And stared in disbelief.

It was empty!  Completely empty!  Not a single shuttlecraft sat on the landing 
pad, not even in the service area!  The only ship in the entire bay was an 
ancient museum piece that probably hadn't seen action in centuries.  Even if it 
*was* spaceworthy, it had negligible shields and such primitive controls that he 
doubted he could control it.

So.  What to do.  The transporter wasn't an option.  Without a phaser held at 
their temples, its operator would deliberately misconfigure the beam to rent him 
apart atom by atom.  Taking the entire ship by force would take some time, and 
with Galaxia's ship under their control, the Ducks could easily beam from ship 
to ship and take him by surprise.  Which left...ah, yes.  How could he have 
forgotten it?  So simple was the plan, so easily forgotten was the target, he 
could do it easily.  

He ran back to the corridor.

And right into Drake.

**********

The two Ducks collided.  Drake's momentum carried him forward; D'Gal, weighed 
down by the weapons he hadn't yet self-destructed, toppled backwards.  Though 
both were winded and dazed, they recovered quickly.  Finding yourself beak-to-
beak with your enemy tends to do that.  Drake found his voice first.

"You!"

"*You!*"

Realizing he'd dropped his phaser in the fall, Drake's arm shot out to retrieve 
it.  Before his hand closed around it, however, D'Gal shoved the Federation Duck 
away, planting a boot to his chest and sending him sprawling onto his back.  In 
one fluid movement, D'Gal rolled, snatched up the phaser, and was on his feet, 
facing Drake.

Crab-walking, Drake scooted back, hastily getting to his feet and taking a 
defensive stance towards the Black Knight that now had a phaser aimed at him.

"Still alive, Duck?" D'Gal taunted.

"Funny, I was about to ask you the same thing."

"Of course *I'm* still alive.  I live by my wits and my skill.  *You*, on the 
other hand, can claim neither."

"I outsmarted you once."

D'Gal rolled his eyes.  "No, *you* played dead until I was safely off the 
station, then aborted the self-destruct sequence by shooting the system's 
computer.  Which, if I remember correctly, damaged the station to the point 
where the Federation scuttled it anyway, yes?"

"*That* is entirely *beside* the point."

"Ah, yes.  The point would be, 'he who fights and runs away, lives to die 
another day,' eh?"  

He tossed the phaser at Drake, charging the distracted Duck and knocking him to 
the ground.  Drake was on his feet again in an instant, only to be caught in the 
abdomen by a roundhouse kick.

"Haven't gotten any better at fighting, have you, Duck?" D'Gal backed a foot 
away.  "Come on."

Drake charged at the taunting Duck, throwing a punch that might have done some 
damage, had D'Gal not caught the officer's arm, twisted it, and used Drake's own 
momentum to send him hurtling head over heels into the wall.  The Duck righted 
himself, supporting himself on his elbows while he willed his vision to clear.

"Come on, Federation, this is your *life* here!  At least *act* like you're 
going to fight for it!"

Easy for *him* to say, Drake thought to himself.  D'Gal's belligerence was the 
only reason he was still alive after all this time.  The thought that he, Drake, 
could beat someone as adept at fighting as D'Gal was ridiculous.  If he had the 
element of surprise, maybe.  But without it, and without backup, he was dead.  
And he knew it. "Why don't you just shoot me?"

"Now, where would the fun be in that?"  He grabbed Drake by his lapels, pulling 
the Duck forward and rebounding him off the opposing wall.

**********

The shuttle bay doors slid open, admitting a very cautious mouse and a wary 
bluebird.  Guns at the ready, they carefully stole into the bay, watching the 
corners and shadows.

Squeaks scanned the room.  "He's not here."

"Think we beat him?"

"Maybe.  Maybe not."

"Hey," Ferdia jerked her head to the right, moving to the bay's right 
entranceway.  "You hear that?"

Squeaks pricked up his ears, listening.  A dull thud.  Another.  He walked to 
the left side of the door, careful not to approach it head-on and cause it to 
open.  The sounds of a scuffle.

A click.  On his left.  He looked across the doorway to Ferdia.  She'd taken the 
safety off her service revolver and was sliding closer to the door.  He held up 
his hand, shaking his head.

"We don't know where they are, and if D'Gal is armed - and he's *always* armed - 
we'll jeopardize ourselves and Drake if we don't take him by surprise."

"Then we'll go out the door we came in and work our way over."

**********

D'Gal caught Drake with another roundhouse, sending the Duck to the ground once 
again.  This time though, he didn't get up.

"Now, don't tell me you're tired already!  I've hardly warmed up!" He kicked 
Drake over onto his back.  "Come on.  Get up, Duck."

"If you're gonna use a word as a slur, D'Gal, you out to pick one that doesn't 
apply to yourself as well," Drake coughed, hauling himself into a sitting 
position.

"Me?  A *Duck*?  What makes you feel *I'm* an Invisible Duck, eh?"  D'Gal 
circled the gasping officer.  "If my species had any claim to membership in your 
race, why leave them to rot on a dying world, eh?  That's not something you do 
to *kin*.  That's something you do to *enemies*."  

He kicked Drake sharply in the kidneys, knocking the Duck on his stomach again.  
This time, however, Drake felt a knee digging into his spine as a hand jerked 
his head back.  A blade pressed against his throat.

"Tired of playing?" he asked.

"Yes, you reminded me.  I've got places to go, people to kill, and so forth.  
You understand.  Any last w-Arg!"  

The knife fell away from his throat, and Drake opened his eyes, as surprised at 
the cry of pain as the loud *bang!* that had accompanied it.  The source of the 
sound surprised him even more.  Ferdia stood not thirty feet away, where the 
hallway intersected with another corridor.

"Well, well, well," D'Gal crooned, "What do we have here?" Gripping Drake by the 
hair, he got to his feet, dragging his hostage up with him.  "*This* certainly 
explains the relic in the shuttle bay.  And here I thought the Federation had 
rules about not allowing primitives on their ships.  Tsk tsk," he scolded, 
favoring his right shoulder but brandishing a phaser nonetheless.  He fired a 
few rounds at Ferdia, sending her diving behind a corner.  "You shouldn't get 
involved, bird.  This doesn't involve you."

"Let him go."

Crouched, she leaned around the corner.  He fired another round, forcing her to 
duck out of sight.  "I should warn you, I don't use the 'stun' setting," he 
threatened, bringing it to Drake's temple to stop the Duck's struggling.

Ferdia reappeared, gun still trained on him.

"Don't think I won't kill this worthless bit of feathers," he threatened.

"Don't think I'll care if you do," she countered, sliding out from behind the 
corner. "No hostage, no shield.  No shield, the next bullet goes through your 
heart, not your shoulder.  Makes my life easier."

"Ooh, I think I *like* her," D'Gal whispered to Drake, "then again, anyone that 
wants *you* dead..."  He shoved the Duck stumbling forward, bringing the phaser to 
firing position...

...but never got it there.  Ferdia's second shot went not through his heart but 
through his phaser, and as the shrapnel ripped through his hand, a blue-and-
white blur slammed into him from behind, knocking him to the ground.

**********

By the time he hit the ground, Ferdia had crossed the distance between them, 
handcuffing him a second later.  Only then did she turn her attention to Drake.

"Hey, you still breathin'?"  She offered him a hand.

"Don't turn your back on him!" Drake warned her.

She shrugged.  "Don't worry, I've got someone coverin' for me."  She frowned. 
"Your pupils are dilated.  How many of me do you see?"

"Three and a half," he admitted.

"In that case, don't get up.  We'll call the Sickbay," a voice behind her 
offered.  A very *familiar* voice.  He shook his head, trying to clear it.  
Slowly, his vision cleared and came into focus.

And showed him a ghost.

The blur holding D'Gal was Squeaks.

"You - you - you're-"

"Not dead.  Right."

Drake looked over at Ferdia.  "Is it a bad thing when you see hallucinations?"

"Yeah, but unless you see pink elephants flying around, you're not 
hallucinating.  Squeaks is alive and well."

"I think I need to sit down."

"You *are* sitting down!"

"Then maybe I should *lie* down."

"Hey!  Duck!  Maybe you just need a swift kick in the head!  Lemme oblige ya!" 
D'Gal thrashed around, straining against the handcuffs.  "Y'know, I'm pretty 
sure these things violate some treaty or another," he grumbled, struggling and 
trying to land a kick on Drake.

Drake pushed himself up hesitantly, testing his balance and battling the 
vertigo.  D'Gal, unable to reach the Duck anymore, spat at him.  Drake wiped the 
spittle from his face, straightened, and looked to Squeaks and Ferdia, 
indicating D'Gal with a finger.  "You mind?"

Ferdia cocked an eyebrow, leaning back against the corridor wall.  "Hey, I'm a 
primitive, remember?  I'd offer you my club, but we have to find the things 
ourselves, and we tend to get upset if anything happens to them..."

Squeaks let go of the handcuffed Duck and backed away.  "I don't see anything," 
he shrugged, leaning against the wall as well.

Drake hit D'Gal with a right cross.  By the time the Duck hit the floor, he was 
out cold.

**********

Galaxia silently stole down the hallway, careful to avoid as much of the crew as 
possible.  Those she could not avoid, however, merely glanced at her as they 
passed.  A few said hello, smiling at the pretty young 'ensign' as she walked 
by.  

She smiled to herself.  Stupid Ducks.  Bleach your feathers, tie your hair back, 
and don a SpaceFleet uniform, and all of a sudden you were a trusted member of 
the Federation.  Would they never learn?

She entered the brig, stopping when she reached the two officers guarding the 
maximum-security cell.  The young men smiled at her.

"Medical ensign Cayla, here to check on the prisoner," she announced primly.

They looked at her uncertainly.  "Why do you need to do that?" one questioned, 
frowning.  "The man's a terrorist and a murderer.  Let him suffer."

She pursed her lips.  "To be honest, I'd like to.  But he's been unconscious for 
hours, and the Captain wants to question him.  If he weren't such a menace, he'd 
probably be in sickbay."  They shifted uncomfortably.  "If you wish, you can 
accompany me in," she offered, batting her eyes at them.

They blushed.  The first cleared his throat.  "That, uh, won't be necessary, 
Miss Cayla.  If you need any help, just call us on your combadge."  He keyed the 
pass code to the cell, allowing her to enter before locking it again.

Galaxia shook her head.  "Fools didn't even bother checking my medical bag," she 
chuckled, fishing a hypo out of the bag and approaching the prisoner.

**********

The shot didn't bring him out of it.  Neither did the smelling salts, though his 
eyelids fluttered briefly.  As she had no bucket of water handy, that left but 
one option.  She slapped him.

Instantly, he was awake, swinging at his 'assailant.'  The electro-magnetic 
bands on his wrists cut the blow short, however, increasing their pull to 
effectively bind his wrists to the wall above his head.

D'Gal strained against the shackles, his eyes flashing angrily at the startled 
nurse backing out of reach.

Galaxia scolded herself for not anticipating such a violent reaction.  This 
*was* D'Gal, after all.  He was known for nothing else.  She regained her 
composure.  "D'Gal!  It's me!"

D'Gal paused, studying the Duck before him.  "Galaxia?"

She folded her arms, smirking.  "Told ya you couldn't take a ship this size," 
she remarked, stooping for her bag.  She took out a magnetic-disruptor gadget, 
breaking the holds of the magnetic cuffs.

Free of his bonds, D'Gal got to his feet.  "What are *you* doing here?  I told 
you to warp out as soon as the tractor beam broke hold!"

"You're *supposed* to say 'thank you' and apologize," she scowled.

"For what?"  He rubbed his wrists, checking his right hand and shoulder.  They 
still hurt, but a medic had evidently treated them already, as the wounds had 
all but disappeared.

She glared at him.  He studied her for a moment, then shrugged.

"I *never* apologize."  He grabbed the med bag, removing the phaser hidden in it 
and approaching the cell door.  "Why aren't you on your ship?"

"They boarded it."

"You couldn't even repel a *boarding party*?"

"My crew's never been known for its courage in battle.  When the party announced 
you'd been caught, they surrendered.  The few loyal fighters I *do* have hid, 
but someone saw me before I reached them.  I convinced the party leader that I 
was a medic you'd taken prisoner, and the fool sent me back up here.  I figured 
I might as well save your worthless hide before heading back to the ship."

"Touching.  *Especially* since you'll need me and my worthless hide to beam you 
back aboard your ship.  So," he indicated the door, "save me already."

**********

The officer on duty in the transporter room started when the doors slid open.  
It was almost the end of his shift, and, not expecting to have to beam down any 
more away team members now that some had begun returning, he had begun to doze 
off.  He looked at the medical ensign critically.  Probably just another young 
adventure-seeker.  He'd had a few in here already, asking to be beamed to the 
captured ship.

"You're not leaving the ship without the captain's permission, miss," he said, 
barely acknowledging her.

"That a fact?" a voice intoned.  The transport chief leapt in alarm as D'Gal 
appeared in the doorway.  "I wouldn't do that if you want to live to see 
tomorrow," he remarked as the chief reached for his phaser.  "Toss it here."

The chief obeyed, watching as D'Gal holstered the second weapon and approached 
the console.

"Now, I'm not thick enough to think you'd actually beam us over to our ship 
instead of the brig or open space," D'Gal began, leveling his phaser at the 
frightened Duck, "That trick's been done before.  But I don't have time to 
listen to you beg for your life, either.  So we'll make it simple.  Beam her 
over to the Duckhawk, and if she contacts me and says that's where she is, you 
live.  Got it?"

The transporter chief gulped, nodding.  He set the coordinates as Galaxia took 
her place on the transport pad.  D'Gal held his phaser on the chief.

"Wait a minute!" Galaxia began, as the transporter beam washed over her, "D'Gal!  
What about you?"

"I've got a plan!"

D'Gal watched as the beam faded.  An instant later, his communicator chirped, 
informing him of Galaxia's successful arrival.  "Very good," he told the 
transporter chief.

"I get to live, right?  You said if I did what you told me, you'd let me live!"

D'Gal thumbed a switch on the phaser, bringing it to firing position.  "Did I, 
now?"

**********

Mallard sat in his customary seat on the bridge, angrily listening to Security's 
report.

"I fail to see how someone could just walk into the brig and break him out, 
Commander!" he growled at the officer onscreen.  "Find him!"

"I understand, sir.  I - hold on a moment, sir," his security chief cut the 
transmission for a moment, then reappeared, more worried than before.  "Sir!  
We're getting reports of phaser discharge in the transporter room!  We're 
responding now!"

Minutes passed.  Mallard contacted sickbay for an update on Drake, only to be 
told that he'd just left for the bridge.

"Sir!  The computer reports an explosion in the transporter room!" an ensign 
yelled, seconds before his combadge chirped.

"Sir!  Security here!  There's no sign of D'Gal, but we managed to get the 
transporter chief out before the blast.  He's been shot, but believe it or not, 
he's still breathing.  We're searching the area now."

"Keep looking," Mallard told them, cutting the transmission and opening another 
to Drake, "Commander, where are you?"

"I'm on Deck 14, headed up to the bridge," Drake reported.

"Be on the lookout for D'Gal," Mallard cautioned, "He's loose, and at this 
point, probably headed for us now."

**********

"Headed for you?"  Ferdia repeated.  "Why?"

"Because without shuttles or transporters, there's no way off this ship.  If he 
reaches the bridge, he can seal us away from the controls and commandeer the 
ship!" Drake explained.

"But there's still a way off the ship!"

Drake shook his head.  "I doubt he'll try taking your ship.  It may be similar 
to the type of aircraft *you're* familiar with, but to us - and him - it's too 
foreign.  Plus, he probably has his doubts about whether or not it still works."

"That's not what I meant!" she persisted. "There's still-"

"-the yacht," Squeaks finished.  "Of course!  It's so seldom used, no one's 
thought to post a unit there!  And with everyone expecting him on the bridge, 
he'll reach it easily!"

"Not if we beat him to it," Drake said, rerouting the turbolift.

**********

D'Gal dashed up the spiraling emergency stairs.  Five flights down, he'd set an 
array of phasers to self-destruct.  When the weapons finished over-charging, 
their explosions would rip through much of the ship's remaining weapons systems. 
They'd also send a wall of fire shooting up the stairwell, so he had to hurry if 
he didn't want to become roast duck.

Security was responding as he'd expected them to, guarding the turbolifts and 
maintenance shafts leading to the bridge.  Let them.  He didn't want *this* 
ship.  Not anymore, not since he'd already knocked out nearly all her power 
generators and weapons systems.

No, he wasn't headed for the bridge.  He was headed for a little, forgotten area 
a few decks beneath it.  Only a few more flights up now...

...there!  He slammed into the exit door, stumbling into an empty corridor.  
Winded, but not about to chance stopping for breath, he tore down the hall in 
the direction of the tiny hangar.

**********

Aboard the Duckhawk, Galaxia and the dozen crewmembers that had avoided capture 
positioned themselves outside the bridge.

The Ducks had kept very few of the away team on the ship once they'd sealed her 
crew in a cargo hold.  The few that remained did so only because the tractor 
beam had been broken, and all they did was maintain the Duckhawk's heading and 
keep an eye on the security display of the cargo hold.  And they did it all from 
the bridge.

Galaxia signaled her men.  As one, the group charged through the doors and onto 
the bridge, taking the away team completely by surprise.

**********

D'Gal ducked around a corner, shielding himself from the blast.  As the dust 
subsided, he darted back into the corridor and through the now-open hangar door.

There she was.  Small, sleek, and undefended.  The captain's yacht.  So 
insignificant, she didn't even have a name, much less a customized pass code.  
He keyed the default code into the panel on her side, stepping back as the gull-
wing door popped open.

"Hey!" a muffled voice yelled, "The door's been blasted open!"  

Footsteps echoed from down the corridor.  Evidently, not *everyone* had 
forgotten this small ship.  But D'Gal wasn't about to stick around and find out 
who had tracked him this far - he'd used his last phaser on the door.  He darted 
into the ship, locking down her doors and powering up her systems.  Below him, 
the hangar's bay doors began to open.

**********

Ferdia ran toward the small hangar, watching as the ship powered up, its lights 
blinking through the billowing dust the engines kicked up.  She didn't notice 
the bay doors until they were open enough that the vacuum of space overpowered 
the environmental systems in the hangar and began sucking everything in the 
pressurized corridor toward the gaping doorway.

It was like running with gale-force winds at your back.  The roar was deafening, 
the force of the winds overwhelming, pushing them forward despite their efforts 
to the contrary.  Stopping was out of the question, but at the same time, 
necessary for survival.  The trio slammed into the corridor to the right of the 
door.  Drake hit his combadge, yelling for the bridge to close the doors.

Closest to the corner, Ferdia risked a glance around, in time to see the yacht 
lift off and dive through the open doors.  Seconds later, the doors closed.  The 
wind and the roaring stopped.

For a moment, anyway.  Then another roar echoed from beneath them, traveling up 
the hull and shaking the ship to its core.  The phaser array had self-
destructed.

**********

"The yacht!"  Mallard gasped, watching as it streaked out from under the ship.  Open fire!"

His weapons officer reached to comply, put was interrupted when the ship 
shuddered with another explosion.

Mallard didn't need to hear where that explosion had hit.  He knew it had taken 
out a sizeable portion of their guns.  D'Gal wouldn't risk taking the yacht 
otherwise.  

He was about to hail his officers on the Duckhawk when it turned and sped away, 
leaving a stretched burned-in image of itself as it reached warp speeds.

"Sir!"

"I saw it!  Just concentrate on D'Gal!"

**********

"No!"  Drake yelled, watching through one of the empty hangar's viewports as the 
Duckhawk sped away.  "They're getting away!"

"What about D'Gal?  He looks like he's circling around.  If he stays to fight, 
can't you beat him?"

Squeaks shook his head.  "Not with as much of their systems damaged as they 
have.  D'Gal can't do too much damage it the yacht - it's not a fighter, so it 
only has a small phaser array - but he can toy with them for a while to buy 
Galaxia some time before warping out of here."

"And he'll do just that," Drake said, watching the yacht loop around mockingly, 
"because we can't stop him."

Ferdia watched the yacht for a moment, thinking.  "Not quite," she said, eyes 
sparkling mischievously as she raced for the turbolift.

Squeaks watched her for a moment before it hit him.  "The x-wing!"

He ran after her.

**********

Drake stood just inside the shuttle bay, shaking his head as a smile crept 
across his face.  Across the bay, in front of the x-wing, a debate was raging as 
to just who should take the ship.

"She's *my* ship, I should take her!"

"*You* don't have military training!  I've been in space battles before, *I* 
should go!"

"I'm perfectly capable of handling myself in an air battle and you know it!  
Besides, I'm familiar with how the ship operates, so I wouldn't need to waste 
time learning the finer points of her controls!"

"Why don't you *both* go?"

The arguing stopped as Ferdia and Squeaks whirled to face the Duck.

"It's a single-seater, Drake," Squeak reminded him.

"So it'll be a tight squeeze.  So what?  She knows how to fly the ship; you know 
how to fight.  Considering you're up against D'Gal, splitting the 
responsibilities of flying and fighting oughta booster your chances of surviving 
the encounter."

"Sounds okay to me," Ferdia shrugged.  Squeaks looked unconvinced.

"Plus, with all the damage we've sustained, that fighter's the only way off this 
ship," Drake reminded them, "And I assume you're planning on leaving us again, 
aren't you, Ace?"

His question caught Ferdia off guard.  Worried, she looked to Squeaks 
expectantly.

The mouse thought for a moment, shaking his head.  "I can't," he said 
regretfully, "It'd be considered desertion," he apologized.

"But...but..." Ferdia stammered, at a loss for words but vehemently shaking her 
head.  She cast Drake a pleading look.

Drake sighed.  He couldn't help it.  The poor bird didn't just look hurt at the 
thought of being abandoned - she looked like a child who'd just been told their 
favorite pet was dead.  Her eyes begged him to do something, say something, 
*anything*, to change his friend's mind.

"Well..." he began, "not exactly.  SpaceFleet already thinks you're dead, and so 
does the crew, now.  Only the Captain and I know otherwise, and I'm sure Mallard 
would understand..."

"No," Squeaks shook his head. "I can't just abandon-"

"Wait for me to finish, Ace!  The Captain knows a lot of the top brass at 
SpaceFleet - they could pull some strings and let you stay.  I'm sure they'd 
agree that an outpost this far from traveled space would prove useful for 
monitoring pirate activity and whatnot.  I know they've similar agreements along 
our western borders..."

"Please," Ferdia pleaded.

Squeaks looked doubtful, but smiled and nodded nonetheless.

"Great," Drake grinned as the bluebird cheered and leapt into the fighter, "Now 
get going before D'Gal gets away!"

**********

His ship squawked in alarm as phaser fire bounced off his shields.  The Ducks 
were still valiantly trying to shoot him down - but they had precious few 
working turrets at the moment, and much of the ship was thus left unprotected.

Or at least it *had* been unprotected, D'Gal thought, dodging out of the way of 
a new stream of phasers.  He swung around, searching for their source.

The relic!  She arced around after him, her four wings spread in battle mode.  
So, she *was* spaceworthy...
  
**********

"He's coming around!" Squeaks shouted, firing at the Captain's yacht as D'Gal 
swung around to face them.  

Beside him in the crammed cockpit, Ferdia jerked back on the control lever.  The 
x-wing shot up into a vertical climb for an instant before flipping around and 
diving at D'Gal, who had taken the bait.  Ignoring the R2 unit's screams of 
protest, she continued barreling in towards D'Gal, dodging the yacht's fire.  
Streaking past him, she looped around behind the yacht, tailing it as it pitched 
and weaved in an attempt to shake them.  Not that it truly needed to - most of 
their shots bounced harmlessly off its shields.

"His shields are too strong," Squeaks observed, "We're hardly more than an 
annoyance."

"Yes, but we're an annoyance he'll *chase*," Ferdia countered, following D'Gal 
as he feinted left but allowing him to slip behind them as he broke to the 
right.  "I'm just hoping we've gotten him fully distracted..."

**********

On the bridge of the Duck ship, the weapons officer flashed a predatory smile as 
the yacht followed the x-wing into the range of the ship's last remaining intact 
phaser bank.  

"Gotcha!"

**********

D'Gal let out a startled yelp as the Ducks opened fire.  A trap!  He jerked the 
yacht around to get out of range, only to find himself on a collision course 
with the x-winged fighter that had led him into this mess.  He fired angrily at 
her, watching as the ship's weak shields began to falter and his shots bounced 
off her wings, but was jolted back to the task at hand when his ship began 
screaming that *his* shields were also failing.

He hastily dove out of range, ignoring the fighter and running from the Duck 
ship.  Her engines and power systems were still damaged - he could outrun her, 
he thought, watching the ship shrink behind him.  He was safe.

Or not.  A series of shots ripped into the yacht's hull, alerting him to the 
fighter's continued presence.  Harmless enough when he had shields, the tiny 
ship now had the opportunity to do some *real* damage to his, and as he turned 
away from its attack, the x-wing took aim at the yacht's underbelly.  And hit 
its engines.

His ship pitched forward and rolled as the fighter tore her engines to shreds, 
taking out a good portion of her flight controls in the process.  D'Gal fought 
with the controls, jerking the ship around and again firing at the fighter.  For 
his effort, he was rewarded with a bright burst as one of his rounds found the 
fighter's port engines.  Trailing smoke, the fighter streaked by him, banking 
right because she had no way of compensating for her dead portside engines.

But as he watched the fighter, he realized something.  She was being pulled into 
the atmosphere of the planet beneath them.  

And so was he.

**********

Ferdia fought the controls, desperately trying to compensate for the lost 
engines and pull out of their gravitational dive.

"It's no use!  This ship doesn't have ailerons or a tail - without those 
engines, I can't get us level!" she shouted.  "Moreover, we're going down, like 
it or not!"

"So's D'Gal!" Squeaks observed, pointing to the tumbling yacht, "He doesn't have 
enough speed to maintain an orbit, so he'll fall in too!"

"But we can't go after him like this!  He'll get away!"

Squeaks watched as flames streaked around and blackened the yacht's hull.  "I 
doubt it.  The yacht's designed to withstand atmospheric flight, but like any 
ship, if you enter the atmosphere too sharply, you run the risk of burning up in 
re-entry.  D'Gal's stuck in a steep dive.  At that angle, he probably won't 
survive..."

Flames began forming at the fighter's nose, shooting up over the canopy.  
"Um...X-wings can stand re-entry, right, Squeaks?"

"Let's hope so!"

**********

Trevor lead the handcuffed teen back to the prowler.  Placing him in the 
backseat, the finch turned survey the damage.  Casey was busy getting a 
statement from the shopkeeper; a handful of other cops were talking to 
witnesses.  

The shop itself was being dusted for fingerprints - for all the good *that* 
would do - but was not that worse for the wear.  The spray paint could be washed 
off, the broken glass replaced, and the slurpee machine...well, he was certain 
they'd *eventually* find a way to turn it off.  In the meantime, local kids were 
beginning to line up behind the squad cars, anxious to 'help' clean the mess by 
filling up huge cups with the sugary slushed ice the damaged machine now gushed 
continuously.

The shopkeeper finished his statement and turned to deal with the kids as Casey 
snapped his notepad shut and headed back to the car.

"Y'know, I used to dream about this sort of thing when I was a kid," Trevor 
commented.  "Well, not the smashing and spray-painting parts.  But *definitely* 
the never-ending slurpee."

"*That* certainly explains a lot," his partner replied, leaning against the 
prowler and taking in the scene.  "Ferdia'd get a kick out of this."

"Yeah, she'd probably be right up there, handing those kids buckets instead of 
cups and drinking her helping out of a 50-gallon drum," Trevor laughed.

Casey sighed.  "I just wish we knew what *really* happened to-"

"-Hey!  Look at that!" Trevor yelled, jerking to his feet and pointing to a 
fiery object streaking across the evening sky.

"A shooting star," Casey waved it off.

"No, look, it's getting bigger!  It's an aircraft, or a satellite, or something, 
and it's crashing!"

"A meteor!" someone in the crowd shouted, pointing.  

"Looks like it's headed for Central Park!" another yelled.  Trevor glanced at 
this one.  Glasses and pocket protector, with a calculator in one hand and a 
notebook in the other.  The nerd incarnate.  But someone who just *might* 
actually know what he was talking about.

Trevor started for the driver's seat.  "Let's check it out."

**********

"Look!"  Bob yelled, pointing at the fireball in the sky, "That must be your 
sister!"

"Where?!?" Ferdie lunged for the window, squashing Bob against it as he did so.  

Beak looked out the cab's front window.  The fireball certainly *did* look like 
a ship re-entering the atmosphere...  

"Looks like it put down near Central Park," Ferdie said, leaning back into his 
seat.  He directed the cabbie there, then noticed Bob.  "Oh, sorry about that, 
Bob."

Bob was too busy being a window decal to respond.  

**********

She had been aiming for the water.  Really.  The man-made lake in Central Park 
was big, shallow, and deserted.  The best place she could put down in, given the 
fighter's current speed.  But even with its remaining engines shut down, the 
fighter wouldn't level, and cut a rightward arc through the park, clipping 
trees, shrubbery, and the occasional statue as it did so.  The debris slowed the 
fighter somewhat, enough so that when its lower left wing hit the double-decked 
bus in the parking lot, the impact flipped the fighter around and pitched it 
into the adjoining meadow.  Inverted, it dug an arcing trough in the dirt as it 
skid to a smoldering stop, nose propped up on a rock formation.

"Excellent landing," Squeaks coughed.  From behind them, the battered R2 chirped 
a similar opinion.

"Everybody's a critic," Ferdia muttered, flipping the canopy release switch and 
reaching up to open the scorched canopy.

It was stuck.

**********

Trevor pushed his way through the forming crowd, determined to get a look at the 
fireball that had caused the damage.  As far as he could tell, whatever it was 
hadn't exploded when it hit the ground, so if anyone had been in it - or had 
been caught near its landing site - they might still be alive.  He pushed his 
way past the teenagers at the front of the crowd, and paused to tell the 
inconsiderate punks to stop taking pictures -

- but broke off mid-sentence as he got a better look at the downed "fireball."  
Blackened, smoldering, upside-down, and unmistakably damaged, it was still 
undeniably recognizable.  To a Star Wars fan, anyway.


Casey took his time working through the crowd, watching his partner amusedly.  
The kids up front with the cameras were getting a kick out of the green finch, 
who just stood gawking at the craft.  He tapped him on the shoulder as he walked 
by.

"Hey, Trev, snap out of it.  It's a custom built, that's all," he reasoned.  
Above the din of the crowd, he heard a pounding sound, then noticed the ship's 
canopy shuddering.  "Hey, there's someone in there!"

Awestruck or not, that brought his partner back.  They were there to help, and 
that's what they'd do.  They approached the craft.

**********

Ferdia squirmed in the restraining harness, working her upper body free from its 
now-hindering grip.  Arms freed, she pounded on the canopy with renewed 
determination.  Squeaks, meanwhile, was working on finding the release for the 
harness.  He succeeded in loosening its grip, and Ferdia began kicking at the 
canopy was well.

For her effort, she was rewarded with a loud creak as the canopy finally started 
to give, opening slowly.  She gave it another kick, only to have it give out 
just as the harness did.  The canopy swung open, dumping her and Squeaks out in 
a cloud of dust.

Shouts sounded, and she heard the click of handguns being cocked.  Rolling onto 
her stomach, she squinted into the dust cloud.

**********

"Casey?"  A familiar voice called.

Casey startled.  Then, as the dust began to settle, he stared at the source of 
the voice incredulously.  "Ferdia?!?"

From beneath the overturned ship, the blue bird grinned.  As she crawled out 
from under the wreck, he was able to make out the form of a mouse as well.

Beside him, he heard Trevor laugh.  "Hey, Blue!  Shoulda known it was you, with 
that landing!  Nice entrance!"

Ferdia laughed, reaching up and ruffling Trevor's hair.  "I missed you too, 
Greenie!" 

Trevor ducked away, locking an arm around each officer's shoulders.  "And where 
have you been?" he laughed, "Taking some time off?  A weekend at the islands, 
maybe?"

Squeaks gave a short, tired laugh.  "Nothing nearly as relaxing," he ducked out 
of the hold, "We were working on a case."

"Suuuuuuuure you were.  That's why you just up and vanished without a trace, 
right?"

Squeaks shrugged.  "I had to help my old unit with a mission," he explained, 
stretching the truth.  Before the green finch could ask, he added, "It's 
classified.  I'll have the mission's commanding officer explain it - and the 
damage it caused - to the Chief."

Casey looked at Ferdia.  "*You'll* let us in on it, won't you, Blue?"

She shook her head.  "You guys wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try us," Trevor piped up, pointing back to the x-wing, "Where'd you get *that*?"

Ferdia beamed.  "Traded a quill for it.  Long story.  I just hope it can be 
Fixed..."

**********

"FERDIA!!!!!!!!" A voice shouted, an instant before a blue blur slammed into 
Ferdia.

"You're okay!!" Ferdie yelled, hugging his embarrassed sister.

"Err...yeah," she replied, squirming out of the embrace as her brother began 
babbling about how worried they'd been and how hard they'd tried to find her.  
When she realized some of the things he mentioned had happened in the space 
battles, she started.  "You *followed* me?!"

She looked to Squeaks.  He shrugged.  As the 'I-told-you-never-to-do-that-you-
could-have-been-killed-and-you-didn't-do-anything-anyway' lecture began, he 
turned to the other cops, finding their attention fixed back towards the taxi 
Ferdie had evidently taken into the park.

**********

A drab-colored kiwi in odd but equally drab clothes was peeling Bob off the back 
window and searching for a wallet.  When he couldn't find one, he turned back to 
the cabbie.

"You don't need any money.  This one's on you," he told the driver.

"You know, sonny, I don't really need the money," the cabbie replied, "This 
one'll be on me.  You can just pay me next time." He waved, driving out of the 
park.

Beak looked over to the assembled assortment of law officers.  One of them 
looked confused.  The others, a green bird and a mouse with a SpaceFleet 
insignia, had thoughtful expressions of doubtful recognition on their faces.  
The other was too busy arguing with Ferdie to notice him.

He held up the still-two-dimensional Bob.  "Anybody got an air pump I could 
borrow?"

**********

An hour later, as Ferdia and Squeaks sat inside the Chief's office explaining 
their absence - with half the precinct listening outside the door - and Ferdie 
lay on a cot waiting for his bones to knit, a newly-refreshed Bob Kiwi sipped 
some coffee.

At least he *thought* it was coffee.  He had gotten it out of the precinct's 
coffeepot, but it had spat the sugar back at him, refused to mix with the 
creamer, and had just eaten his stirring rod.  He looked around for something to 
subdue it with.

Beak, meanwhile, leafed through a book on immigration.  When he asked why, Bob 
was told Beak felt it wiser to stay on this planet for a time.  The 'Force', or 
Great BaNAna, or whatever it was Beak claimed to be in touch with, seemed to 
think leaving would be unwise, and might attract the attention of the Java 
Empire.  

"Ah.  Okay, sounds good.  You can join our detective business," Bob invited.

Beak thought about it.  "No, I think I'd rather do something else.  I'll help 
you if you need me, but detectives can attract attention, and I want to be 
nondescript.  I'll need a regular job."  He thought for a minute.  "I'll also 
need a place to stay."

"Oh, that's no problem.  You can stay in Ferdie's guest room," Bob volunteered.

"*WHAT?!?*" Ferdie sat bolt upright, then cringed as the pain hit him.  
"Oooooh...."

"What did that mean?" Beak inquired.

"It means he'd be happy to let you live there."

**********

Thousands of miles to the east, a fiery object screamed through the clouds, 
picking up even more speed as it plunged ever earthward.  It broke through the 
low-hanging smog to find itself hurtling towards a city.

For all its speed, the only sounds the ship made were those caused by the flames 
licking along the outer skin of the craft.  The flames burned brightly, though, 
and not a few passersby yelped with alarm at it as it rushed by.  It missed the 
copper monument by mere feet, but though its pilot was obviously fighting for 
control, it stubbornly barreled in, smashing straight into one of the city's 
many bridges.

The burning ship sliced through the bridge cables as it streaked by, high enough 
at first to miss the first few lanes of vehicles but low enough to hit the last 
few and rip out the far edge of the bridge as it hurtled into the seawater 
surrounding the crowded island.

The sight - and sounds - of the fiery ship slamming into the freezing water was 
fantastic, and attracted the attention of one of the beaten old fishing boats 
still on the water this late at night.  Drawing nearer, he saw only a charred - 
but thoroughly unusual - aircraft.

**********

Inside the captain's yacht, D'Gal swore.  Again.

The impact had knocked him out briefly, and by the time he came to, the yacht 
had already begun to sink.  Now the ruined craft refused to open it's hatch and 
let him out.  The implications of this were quite clear.  The Ducks, even if 
they *could* help him, with all the damage their ship had taken, *wouldn't*.  
The locals most likely *couldn't*.  And if he *didn't* get out, he was done for.

He punched the controls again.  No response - their circuitry was probably 
fried.  He tried manual override.  Jammed.  Frantically, he searched his mind - 
and the yacht - for another way out.  And found one, in the form of another 
phaser.

The blast ripped a hole through the side of the ship, and freezing water rushed 
in as fast as it sucked the air out.  Fighting to stay in an air pocket until 
the ship was nearly full of the foul-smelling water, D'Gal dove through the 
opening and made for the surface.  

And, for the first time in his life, was glad he was a duck.  His webbed feet 
propelled him upwards quickly, and he broke the surface just as the black spots 
swimming before his eyes overwhelmed him.   Gasping for breath and desperately 
trying to stay afloat - his clothes felt as if they were made of lead, and the 
freezing water was quickly sapping his strength - he began swimming for the 
shore.

And found himself in a fisherman's spotlight.

**********

"Well, sonny, you sure are lucky I was *hic* out here," the fisherman said, 
patting the soaked, shivering black-feathered duck on the shoulder as he reached 
for another bottle of whiskey.

~And *you're* lucky I didn't have a phaser on me,~ D'Gal thought, pulling the 
weathered blanket tighter.  His first reaction to the light had been to reach 
for his phaser - which he'd dropped when the water began rushing into the yacht.  
He wasn't exactly *glad* he hadn't killed the old man, but the rat hadn't asked 
any questions about how he'd gotten in the water, and he certainly *looked* 
inebriated enough that the other locals wouldn't take him seriously.  Not to 
mention that he'd been a great source of information so far.

He'd landed in a major metropolitan settlement, on a planet that not only 
supported a vast menagerie of species, but was also pre-warp.  Which meant that 
there were too many people living in the city to notice a newcomer, and that his 
species wouldn't make him stand out.  It *also* meant they knew nothing of the 
Invisible Ducks, which was good, since without a ship he'd be stuck on this 
mudball until who knew when.

As the boat drew near the shore, D'Gal grinned darkly.  He could blend in here.  
He *would* blend in here.  He'd lay low, waiting for a chance of escape to 
present itself.  And it *would* present itself.  In time.  The Ducks were not 
rid of him yet.

The End.

Ahahahahahaaaaa!!!  It's finally finished!!!  Now for some meaningless legal 
psychobabble about copyrights: Bob Kiwi & all related characters are (c) Jen 
Esposito [aka The Jennies].  Well, Bob & Beak are partially Greg's, but why get 
technical?  I don't own New York, of course, but I do have a few bridges I could 
sell ya if you really want 'em.  Feedback is welcome, and this may be posted / 
redistributed if you 1) leave all this rambling in and 2) email 
Kitsume@hotmail.com.

Now, on with the sequel!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!

.... I wonder what that was?  What?  My sanity?  Don't be ridiculous, that left 
years ago.  It was probably just my brain, seizing the opportunity to run amuck 
with all the plots I've been making it ignore until this was finished.  (Oops.  
If you'll excuse me, I must go retrieve my brain.  It seems to have wandered 
into Egypt and is about to pay a young Iiwi an exorbitant amount of money for a 
map to a hidden plot. Bye now!) 

-Jennies

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