Blind Side

The first thing he knew was pain.

Duke could feel the terrible rhythmic drumbeat of his heart inside his head, each thud making his brain twist in agony. Breathing was excruciating. His lungs ached, making each indrawn breath feel as if he were inhaling fire.

He groaned into the darkness—or were his eyes closed? He couldn't tell. As he slowly surfaced into foggy awareness, Duke couldn't tell much of anything. In the shifting twilight between wakefulness and oblivion, he tried to figure out what was causing his pain.

He could remember, fuzzily, that he'd been alone in his bedroom—Mallory was out of town—reading a novel, though he no longer remembered which one. Then something had happened, but what was it? Fighting past the pain, he tried to remember.

There had been a light. More precisely, a green light. He hadn’t really noticed it at first, until it had shimmered and given birth to a tall, gangly form, and then another, shorter, squatter....

The Saurians.

The word rang loudly in his throbbing head. But the realization pulled him fully into consciousness, and Duke was on his feet before he realized he’d moved. The action made him sway, and the blurring of his vision told him he’d stood up more quickly than he should have.

He placed a hand against his temple and rubbed gingerly. It seemed to help a little. There was no bruise.... So why the hell do I have this headache?

He surveyed his surroundings quickly. Where am I? It’s not a cell—this doesn’t even look like the Raptor. Then he caught sight of a stack of tall rusty steel drums, labeled with half-obscured words he couldn’t pronounce. Hazardous-materials signs and cryptic abbreviations abounded.

He reached to his left shoulder. His saber was gone. His com had been removed, too, and neither tool was in sight.

And neither were the Saurians.

"Shit." In the stillness the word echoed too loudly. He scanned the deserted building and at last muttered, "All right, Dragaunus. What’s the point of bringing me to this dump?"

Or at least he had thought the place was deserted.

He heard a low chuckle reverberate behind him, and he didn’t have to turn around to recognize its owner.

"I see our favorite little thief has awakened." Dragaunus sounded downright...oily.

"You got some nerve," Duke snapped, whirling to face the Saurian. "Taking a man out of his own bed—what happened to common courtesy?" What he really wanted to know was how they’d gotten past Drake One’s defenses—and his teammates—to get to him, but he knew he’d have to feel his way round that one carefully.

The Overlord held up a clawed hand. "I assure you, my good man, it was necessary. We can’t have your little friends involved in this, now can we?"

So that’s what this is about. He wants me for something and the others can’t be made aware of it. Heh, we’ll see about that...all the same, I’d better play along. Duke stood a little taller, crossing his arms over his chest. "Fine. But what’s so important that the team can’t be involved? Need some help with the ladies, Draggy?" He laughed without humor.

The big red Saurian didn’t find it funny either. "Enough of this, l’Orange. I have need of your...services. Are you familiar with the Spellman Device?"

The Spellman Device? No, he’d never—oh, yeah, that thing. Some kind of nuclear-fusion job, being exhibited this week at an arts and sciences exposition at the Civic Center. Tanya had raved about it for days.

But Duke only said, cautiously, "Yeah."

"I’m afraid my plans require that device," Dragaunus said silkily. "Therefore I require your...expertise. The device is heavily defended, and it has proven most difficult to penetrate the security." He grinned wickedly, displaying rows of sharp teeth. "But I don’t think that would be a problem for Puckworld’s greatest thief."

The implications gave Duke pause, but he pushed them aside. Where’s the rest of his goons? And where’s the team? Haven’t they realized I’m not there?

But he waved a hand dismissively, then turned his back to the Overlord and started to walk away. "Sorry, but that ain’t my line of work no more. You want someone to steal for you, Draggy, you drop Falcone a line."

"I had a feeling you’d say that," Dragaunus responded calmly; and his voice was so tranquil that Duke stopped dead, turning round again slowly. Calm Overlords are never a good thing....

"I took the liberty," Dragaunus continued, "of acquiring an, ah, incentive...to ensure your cooperation."

The Saurian spread his hands, and between them light gathered, formed shapes; and suddenly Duke was staring at a holographic image of Siege and Chameleon. Like their Overlord, they were grinning widely, and between them they held a limp, battered gray-feathered drake....

...with an all-too-familiar white streak in his hair.

Duke sucked air with a loud wheeze. Lauran! No, no, it can’t be—

"Lauran!" he cried, lunging forward; but the image broke apart and dissolved, and Duke found himself chest-to-chest with Dragaunus, and suddenly darkness overtook him again.

When he came to he was propped against one of the chemical drums; but immediately he was on his feet. "Damn you, Dragaunus! What have you done with him? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH MY SON?"

The Overlord merely put out one giant hand and pushed the gray drake back against the drum. "Calm yourself, l’Orange. Your little whelp is unharmed—and shall remain so, as long as you do what is expected of you." He chuckled darkly. "I trust I have your attention?"

Duke scowled and said nothing. He was trying hard to control the hot tears of rage that were threatening to spill forth; but at last he begrudged Dragaunus a nod.

"Good. You know what I want of you. Get me the Spellman Device, and keep our little deal a secret, and you’ll get your brat back."

Duke fumed. He wanted to smash his fist into that toothy grin.

But he forced himself to stay calm enough to say, "And if I don’t...cooperate?"

The Overlord’s eyes suddenly glowed crimson. "Fail me," he said, "or betray me to those teammates of yours, and the boy dies. I expect I make myself clear—and I have your word that you will do what I ask."

Duke sighed. He knew he was defeated. "All right. You have my word."

After Dragaunus had vanished in his customary way, Duke had searched the factory, and had found his com and his saber inside an empty drum, but they were no comfort.

The walk back to the Pond had never seemed so long. With every step he found himself thinking He has my son. Dragaunus has my son. The tears he’d held back before the Overlord were falling rapidly now.

Five years since he’d seen Lauran last. Five Gods-be-damned years. Every night for five years he’d prayed to get back to Puckworld, he’d dreamed of seeing his son again—

"But not like this," he whispered. "Never like this."

Duke turned a corner, grimaced at the street light that glared blindingly overhead, and retreated into the sharp black shadows of a nearby alley.

"Damn you, Dragaunus!" he shouted into the darkness. "Why this? Why now? Ain’t you done enough to me?"

There was a sudden scratching noise, very close. Duke cursed and flattened himself against a wall; but after a moment he recognized the noise as a cat, perhaps ten feet away, scrabbling in a trash can for whatever scraps might be found.

He squeezed his eyelids shut, feeling the hot sting of moisture building up behind them. "Watch yourself, l’Orange," he muttered shakily. "You ain’t doing nobody no good by losing control." Least of all your son....

This isn’t happening. Please God, this isn’t happening, he prayed; but he knew better.

Grimly Duke shook himself. "All right, l’Orange, get hold of yourself. You can do this. Never mind it’s for Dragaunus. Just make like it’s old times again—no Ernie Falcone around, no Jezrael Swordfeather, just you, on your own feet, doing what you do best."

His head hurt. It hurt like hell. Lauran didn’t know exactly where he was, or what had happened, but he knew enough to recognize the tall creepy thing that stood outside his cell as a Saurian.

Cell? What in the world...?

Carefully he pushed himself up to a sitting position, gritting his teeth against the white-hot pain that flared up from the base of his skull, desperately trying not to make a noise; but the tall thin Saurian had his back to Lauran and didn’t notice his movement.

There was a gap in his memory. The last thing he recalled was wiping down the bar at the Black Rose prior to closing up for the night; and then, when he’d stepped out the back door to go home, he’d been surrounded by an odd green light. After that, if he concentrated, he could call up a vague memory of waking up in this cell earlier, and seeing bright blue bars of energy across the doorway. He’d lunged for the door and grabbed one of the glowing bars, but knew only a sickening jolt as he was thrown back against the wall.

And now this. Must have hit my head, he told himself. A quick, tentative feel confirmed this, his fingers encountering a large painful lump. The brief touch make his vision dim and swirl, sparks of light seeming to dance before him; and he hunched forward, his head between his knees, waiting for the sick feeling to pass.

It did, at last, and he was able to take a good look around. Now he recognized the glowing blue bars that held him in as a plasma gate, an advanced form of barrier only used in Puckworld’s maximum-security prisons—but the presence of the Saurian outside told him that this wasn’t Puckworld.

The floor was cold—the whole place was cold—and bare except for a few shreds of what looked like cardboard, and there were no windows or air vents. Great. That means the only way out of this mousetrap is through the front door....

From the corner of his eye, though, he saw a rumpled black shape a few feet away. Holding his breath, keeping an eye on the Saurian, and trying not to move his head too much, he crawled over to it, and had to stifle a shout of joy as he recognized his coat. A quick search told him his wallet, with all its contents, was still there—apparently the Saurian had figured out that the black trencher wasn’t where he kept his tools—

Oh, no. His tools. An insistent pricking against his ankle when he shifted position announced that the Saurian hadn’t found the lock picks he kept in his right boot—but he wasn’t concerned with those. Quickly, quietly, Lauran tugged the tail of his shirt out of his jeans and slipped his hand inside the waistband, just in the middle of his back; and this time, when his fingers curled around the hilt of his saber, he didn’t succeed in hiding his sigh of relief.

He froze, holding his breath in as the Saurian turned his head a fraction—but it was only a fraction. He didn’t spare a glance to the young drake trapped behind him.

Lauran hugged his coat to him and let out his breath slowly. That was close. Gonna have to watch this one, l’Orange, it won’t do to let him know you’re up and about just yet....

He smiled to himself, and his head throbbed blindingly in response. Damn it...won’t be going anywhere for a while yet either.

But the pain passed again, and a few moments later so did the rush of nausea that came in its wake. Cautiously Lauran eased himself into a more shadowed corner, and then onto his back again.

The reclined position made him realize suddenly that he was immensely tired. Might as well make the most of it, he said to himself, need to rest up a bit anyway if I’m gonna get out and find out what ‘s going on.

He blinked sleepily and dragged his long coat up over himself like a blanket, the heavy warmth of the material only adding to the weariness that tugged at the edges of his consciousness.

Hope lizard boy out there doesn’t notice I’ve moved, Lauran thought; and then he closed his eyes and slid off the edge of the world.

Tanya stretched and yawned widely as she easily strolled through the enormous maze of corridors inside the Pond. Even in total darkness, Tanya knew every obstacle, every turn the place could throw at her. I should, she thought with a smirk, after all, I’m the one who designed the darn place.

She rounded a corner, and her smirk turned into a grin. Not even Duke knows his way around these halls as well as I do. And for a man who practically worships the dark…. The sudden thought of her teammate caused her smile to vanish. That reminds me, I haven’t seen him in a while. I wonder where he is?

As if in answer to her question, a whiff of smoke teased Tanya’s nostrils, making her sneeze. A quick search for the source brought her to the ladder that led up the hangar wall to an exit hatch on the roof. Someone was up there.

Probably Duke, she thought instantly. He’s the only one that likes to go up there at this time of night—and the only one of us who smokes when something’s on his mind—

Tanya sneezed again and began to climb.

He was sitting on the edge of the roof, facing the south side of the city. As soon as Tanya set foot on the roof, Duke tossed his cigarette over the edge, watched it arc redly toward the ground. "Hey, Tanya."

She hesitated. "How did you—"

"Know it was you?" he said, without looking at her. "You have distinctive sneezes.

Sorry to bother your sinuses."

Gingerly Tanya sat beside him. She wasn’t confident enough to let her legs dangle like he did, so she crossed them instead. "I’d say something’s bothering you."

He looked askance at her. "You might say."

"Care to share?"

He blew out a pent up breath. "No." Tanya was taken aback at the harshness she heard in his voice. Duke must have sensed her uneasiness, and quickly softened his tone. "It’s not something I want to discuss, Tan. That’s all."

"Oh," she responded flatly, but she wasn’t going to press him any further. Tanya had learned a long time ago that when Duke didn’t want to talk, he didn’t. And it’d be a waste of breath for me to even attempt it.

She decided to change the subject. "So, uh, when do you think the others will be getting back?"

She shifted uncomfortably when he didn’t meet her gaze. Duke wasn’t one not to make eye contact. "Don’t know. Aren’t they due back tomorrow?"

Indeed they were. Wildwing, Mallory and Grin were representing the team at some national conference that was being held in New York. Nosedive, Tanya and Duke had been left behind in case something happened while they were away. She knew as well as he did when they were due back, but was searching for a change of subject… "Yeah," she answered. "I think sometime around noon or so. Can’t be sure, though. Knowin’ Phil," she yawned, "he’ll probably find something else to tie them down to."

Her attempt at lightening his reluctant mood didn’t work. Tanya frowned inwardly and straightened her glasses. "Say, Duke, what’s the mat—"

"Has anything been wrong with Drake One recently?"

Tanya stared. Whoa, where did that come from? "Uh, no, everything’s fine. Why?"

He shook his head. "No reason."

She ran a hand through her blonde hair. "Well, in case you’re wondering, I did have it down for about fifteen minutes earlier, running some diagnostics," she said, but he was no longer listening. She finally gave up on chitchat. "Are you sure you’re okay?"

"Huh?" He turned to look at her then, but only for a second. However, that was enough time for Tanya to clearly see something was wrong. "Yeah, Tan," he said with some edge creeping back into his voice, "I was reading this book, and it got me to thinking, so I thought I’d go for a walk and ended up here."

Oh, Duke, not more lies, she thought grimly. She sighed as she got to her feet. "Why’s everything still got to be such a big secret with you?" Tanya heard herself say; and immediately she winced. She didn’t mean to sound so harsh—but it was an honest enough question.

He didn’t think so, though. "What?"

Gods, I gotta work on my timing. "It’s just that, well, you seem really bothered by something, and I’d like to help you. Now I know I’m not Mallory, but—"

"Mallory’s got nothing to do wit’ this," he responded instantly, his glare intensifying at the mention of her name. Apparently she had been on his mind.

Tanya held up her hands. "Fair enough. But I just wanna help you, Duke. You know if you have a problem, you can always come to—"

He got to his feet wearily. "Not this time. I ca—don’t want anyone involved." He ran a hand over his eyes. "Okay?"

The way he said it was his way of telling her This conversation is over; and Tanya had to admit that it hurt. She thought he had grown past keeping all his secrets, all his lies…. "Okay," she answered hollowly, and whirled around toward the exit.

"Tanya." He was right behind her, and she hadn’t even heard him move. She turned back to him slowly as he sighed. "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be short with you, I didn’t want it to be this way…." A flash of something crossed his face, but it was gone before Tanya could figure out what it was. "But I don’t have a choice. I hope you can understand."

She wanted to question him further, but his posture told her that he wasn’t in the mood to discuss it anymore. Tanya gave up and placed a hand gently on his arm. "All right, Duke. I understand. Now I think it’s best we both try to get some sleep. I have a feeling tomorrow’s gonna be a long day."

As she walked away, all Duke could think was God, you have no idea how right you are.

Mallory had never been so happy to be back home.

But something’s not right, she thought, as the hatch to the Aerowing hissed open and light flooded the compartment. For days she’d had this tiny feeling of insecurity in the pit of her stomach, tugging at her consciousness, and it was only getting stronger. Still, she was home; and after three completely uneventful days in the Big Apple, she almost looked forward to any surprises Anaheim might have to throw at her—after, she told herself, a nice romantic evening with Duke. I’m sure that’s all I need—Gods, I’ve missed him.

Tanya and Nosedive greeted their returning teammates with bright smiles as they strode into the Ready Room. Nosedive instantly threw aside his comic book and pounced on his brother. "Hey! Welcome home, guys! Did you have fun?"

Wildwing smiled as they hugged, but ignored his brother’s question. "Man, does it ever feel good to be home."

"I agree." Grin dropped his duffel bag. "It is always a pleasure to be back among friends."

Leave it to Grin to reduce everything to a platitude, Mallory thought. "Tell me about it," she sighed. "Those hockey fans kept looking at us like we were—wearing costumes or something! One guy even asked me how long it took to put my feather suit on."

Wildwing grinned and put a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Yeah, and so did their kids. I still can’t decide which got on my nerves the most." He stretched wearily. "Well, why don’t we all get caught up over lunch? I could really go for some food right now."

"Cooella!" Nosedive practically cheered. "Can we go for triple-spicy tacos, Wing? Can we? My treat!"

Mallory smiled, watching the men file out, and was about to follow them when Tanya pulled her aside. "Mal, I need to talk to you for a minute."

The redhead looked at her friend curiously. "Uh, okay. Shoot."

Tanya seemed to brace herself. "Don’t you want to know where Duke is?"

Oh no. The knot of tension in Mallory’s stomach tightened, but she forced herself to sound nonchalant. "You know Duke’s not much of a day person, Tan. I figure I’ll catch him at dinner tonight."

Tanya’s voice shook a little. "Don’t count on it, Mal."

"What?" Mallory frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it’s just that—um, Duke’s been...." Tanya caught Mallory’s impatient look, and suddenly she found the words. "Duke hasn’t been himself lately. He’s withdrawn—more than usual—and Dive and I haven’t seen much of him. We usually don’t see much of him as it is, but this is different.... At first I thought it was because you were gone, you know, but it’s almost like he’s avoiding us."

Mallory’s frown deepened. Duke, avoiding people? "No." She shook her head. "He doesn’t do that anymore, Tanya. He’s probably just busy with something and hasn’t had time to hang around. You know Duke—you just never know what he’s planning."

"Well, okay," Tanya said doubtfully, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. "Still, I think you should talk to him, Mal. He seems to be comfortable talking to you about stuff."

"Fine," Mallory sighed. "I’ll go find him right now and get this all cleared up." She turned away, and her feeling of foreboding suddenly doubled. She tried to shake it away, to no avail. "I’m sure it’s nothing. You’ll see."

Darkness.

Lauran couldn’t see outside. He had no way of knowing how much time had passed, or what time of day it was; but the corridor outside his cell was dim and quiet.

He didn’t know how long he’d slept. When he’d awakened the first time, there had been a tray on the floor; it held a paper cup of water, and a hunk of bread on a paper plate. He’d sat up, and been hit again by a rush of nausea. It passed more quickly this time, and his head hadn’t throbbed as intensely as before; but still, he’d felt too sick to attempt eating, and he’d flopped back onto the floor and slept again. When he’d come awake again, a few minutes ago, the tray was gone.

He cursed himself. At this rate I’m never gonna figure out how to get past this friggin’ plasma gate....

Cautiously, carefully, he got to his feet. He was stiff and sore from sleeping so long on the hard metal floor, but this time there was no nausea, no blinding pain, only a small dull ache in the back of his head, easy enough to ignore. He breathed a sigh of relief. That’s one thing going right.

Out in the corridor the lights flickered and brightened. He could see now that there was some sort of console across from his cell, and he eyed the buttons and switches hungrily. One of them meant freedom.

But with the sudden brightness came the sound of distant footsteps. Lauran dropped to the floor again, curled himself into what he hoped was a realistic-looking sleeping position.

And this time he heard voices.

"How are we cloaked?" Deep, commanding.

"As an abandoned warehouse, I believe, Lord." The second voice was silky, cultured, fawning. Hmmm.... "The humans would never begin to suspect anything out of the ordinary."

Humans? Lauran scowled. What the hell’s a human?

"Keep it that way," the commanding voice said. "Once I have the Spellman Device I can turn the Raptor into the most destructive weapon this wretched planet has ever seen! These puny Earthlings won’t know what hit them!"

The young gray drake forced himself to keep his eyes closed. The voices were practically right outside now, but he was no longer paying attention to them. His mind was whirling.

The footsteps had halted right outside his cell; and the silky voice said, "But Lord Dragaunus—" and Lauran’s blood seemed to turn to ice.

Dragaunus? The Dragaunus? The Saurian Overlord Dragaunus? Oh shit, oh shit....

"Lord Dragaunus, are you sure the duck will cooperate?"

Cooperate? Lauran thought grimly. Oh no, Dragaunus, you ain’t dragging this little gray drake into nothing....

And then Dragaunus said the last thing Lauran had expected to hear.

"Cooperate? Of course he’ll cooperate. Duke will do anything to get his brat back."

Duke had found the Civic Center’s layout on the Internet; and now, bent over the rec room coffee table with the blueprints spread out in front of him, he was so deep in thought that he didn’t even hear Mallory approach until she was directly behind his chair.

She gently placed a hand on his shoulder, but he tensed at her touch and she withdrew it. "Duke?"

"Oh, hello, sweetheart." He rose to his feet and turned to face her with a warm smile, taking her hands in his and kissing her cheek lightly. "I didn’t know you guys were back already—did you have a good time?"

But there was something false in his warmth, and Mallory studied him a moment before answering. "It was fine, Duke. Just fine." Her unsettled feeling wasn’t getting any better. In fact, it was getting worse. She released his hands and came around to the side of his chair. "Not much happened, thank God, but I’m glad to be back—"

She caught sight of the blueprints on the tabletop. "What are these?"

"Huh?" He sounded oddly distracted, and only then did Mallory notice the dark circles under his eyes. "Oh, just some layouts of the Civic Center—Tanya’s been going on and on about this exhibit they’re having, an’ I thought I might go take a look. Didn’t realize how big the place really is—it looks so much smaller on the outside, ya know?"

"Yeah," Mallory answered dubiously. Whatever you say, Duke.... She crossed her arms over her chest. "But what do you care?"

Duke looked askance at her, his dark gaze suddenly piercing; and when he spoke, he matched her guarded tone. "Just...curious."

Oh, Duke. Oh no. Don’t tell me you’re planning on stealing something.... For a moment she watched him, studying his face; then she said, a little coldly, "You’re lying."

Duke raised his eyebrows. "Sweetheart, what makes you think—"

"Because I know what you’re like, Duke!" Mallory snapped. "I’ve known you too long not to know when you’re being truthful—and when you’re lying."

Duke threw his arms up in disgust. "Oh, so now all of a sudden you’re the big expert on Duke l’Orange, huh? Well I tell ya, Mal, you don’t know the first thing about me!" He’d been wary before; but he was angry now, and his voice shook with irritation.

Mallory chose to ignore it. "Oh, really? We’re teammates, Duke. Friends. Lovers. Who else knows you like I do? We’ve been together too long for me not to know what you’re all about!"

Duke clenched his fists. "You’ll never know all about me!" He held up a warning finger, and the anger she saw burning in his eyes made her heart seem to falter painfully. "Never," he whispered harshly, and turned his back to her.

That did it. "Where do you think you’re going, l’Orange?" She came in front of him and forced him to stand still. "You’ve got some explaining to do, and I mean now."

"I don’t have to explain anything to you!" he shouted, suddenly desperate to push past her. "Now get out of my way!"

"No!"

They were both screaming now, and Duke had backed Mallory up to the door until her back was against it, but he was unable to get past her. "Mallory, I said get out of my way!"

She pushed him back. "I won’t, Duke! Not until you tell me—"

He raised his fist, and for the briefest of moments Mallory saw the man who had attacked her in her sleep months before. She froze—

—as with a furious yell and a flash of maroon, Duke drove his fist into the glass-topped end table just beside her. It shattered with the blow, spraying shards in every direction. Some of them dug into Mallory’s leg, but she barely noticed them—all her attention was on the panting, wild-eyed drake in front of her. His fists were still tightly clenched, the one a bloody mess.

"Move," he said; and without even realizing it, Mallory slipped aside and let him pass.

Duke stalked out; and once the door had closed behind him, Mallory pressed her back against it and slid to the floor and buried her face in her hands.

Duke couldn’t think clearly. Rage clouded his mind. He’d gone back to the quarters he shared with Mallory, wanting desperately to be alone, and now he was trying to work off his anger by pacing. It wasn’t working—the anger wasn’t dissipating.

Damn her! he thought viciously. She can’t understand. She’ll never understand. No one will ever understand! He clenched and unclenched his fists as he quickened his pace. None of them knows what this feels like—nobody will ever know how I feel!

My son could be dead, and it would be.... "My fault," he said aloud, tears of fury stinging his eyes. "If Lauran dies, it’ll be...my fault." He couldn’t control the tears anymore, and he pulled at his hair in frustration. Damn it! I’m tired of tears, I’m tired of disappointment,
I’m done!

"Do you hear me?" he shouted at the ceiling, raising his fists above his head. "I’m done!"

Rage and fear took over then, as Duke toppled the lamp and the nightstand. He shattered the mirror in the corner, tore books off their shelves, sent glass and novels flying. He pulled the drawers out of the dresser and smashed them into the wall.

He flung open the closet and clawed at its contents. Shirts, shoes, hangers were scattered across the floor. He picked up a fallen chair and raised it high above his head, aiming for the bathroom door—and as he prepared to throw it, he caught sight of himself in the ravaged mirror. All he saw of his reflection was his eyes—burning black holes in a face so twisted by fury that it was scarcely recognizable. That’s me? That’s...me?

Duke blinked a few times, rapidly, trying to get his bearings back, and slowly lowered the chair to the floor. With a shuddery sigh he ran a trembling hand through his hair, and felt sticky skin pull at his feathers. He brought his hand to his face and gulped air. Blood? How did I...?

Then he noticed his surroundings. The room looked like a war zone. Clothing, books, wooden pieces from furniture had been scattered everywhere. The bed and dresser were sideways. Shards of porcelain and slivers of silvered glass littered the floor.

Duke took a deep breath. Okay, it’s out of my system. I don’t know what the hell jus’ happened, but it’s over. He wiped his bloodied hand on the seat of his pants and slowly began getting the room back in order. And no one ever has to find out about this....

Lauran hugged himself, hot unwanted tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. He had no idea what the Saurians were talking about now—his head was too full of Dragaunus’ ominous words.

His father was here. His father was—

"Here," he whispered. "Dad’s here. This—this place is where he disappeared to."

For all he knew the entire Resistance could be on this planet, but Lauran didn’t care. Five years, five years he’d waited for some sign, he’d hoped for—for anything that would tell him Duke was still alive, and now they were on the same planet—

Snap out of it, l’Orange, he told himself brusquely. You want the big family reunion, you gotta figure out why Big Red brought you here; and he blinked the tears away and curled himself tighter, forced himself to focus on what Dragaunus and the other Saurian were saying.

Within ten minutes he’d learned everything. Okay, so whatever this Spellman Device is, Dragaunus wants it for something. It’s at the Civic Center, and he wants Dad to steal it—but Dad’s got to keep it a secret, and if he doesn’t.... The young drake swallowed. Dragaunus is gonna scrag me....

He scowled. If there were only some way he could get out and get to his father first....

Lauran opened his eyes a fraction and peered at the pair of Saurians; they were still just outside. With slow deliberate movements he slipped a hand behind his back and found his saber again, wrapped his fingers round it.

All right, Dragaunus. He smiled. You may have my old man over a barrel, but you ain’t figured on the kid. Sometime between now and next morning, that weirdo pal of yours is gonna do something that’ll show me how to get outta here.

"Tonight," he whispered, tightening his grip on his saber. "You got me, Drags? Tonight I blow this joint."

He had stormed out after their argument, and Mallory finally ventured back to their room. She had spent most of the night on the rec room couch, not wanting to encounter Duke. She’d considered asking Tanya if she could bunk with her, but had decided against it—Mallory knew that Tanya would question her all night about her and Duke, and she didn’t much feel like coming up with any answers.

Because Mallory didn’t have any answers.

The sudden burst of anger from Duke wasn’t like him. They’d had plenty of disagreements before, but they never ended where he actually frightened her. Something was bothering him, but she decided it was best to let him cool down a bit before confronting him about it again. She didn’t want to encounter the Duke she had seen earlier tonight.

As the door hissed shut behind her, Mallory set to work putting all her clothing and toiletries back from her New York trip. As she came back out of the bathroom, she noticed the mirror that was usually stationed in the corner of the room was no longer there. She surveyed the entire room, to see if Duke had moved it, but it was nowhere to be found. He must have put it back in my old room, she thought with a shrug. He didn’t really like it in here anyway.

She folded a red tank top and pulled the top dresser drawer open. That’s odd, she thought off-handedly, this is harder to open than usual. I’ll have to get Tanya to take a look at it, maybe she’s got some lubricant I can put on it.

But instead of being full of clothing, the drawer was only half full, and the bottom was exposed. As she slid the shirt into the drawer, she saw a white envelope sticking out beneath the clothes, unsealed and thick with promise. She hefted it and lifted the flap, and a sheaf of photographs spilled out.

They all included Duke, and they hailed from the days before he’d gotten his eyepatch—Mallory was stunned by how young he looked. Some of the pictures featured a girl with dark gray feathers and white-streaked black hair, and Mallory caught her breath. This must be that sister of his.... A few more snapshots showed another dark-feathered woman, this one looking to be in her mid-thirties. An aunt? His mother? There was no writing on the back of any of them. Two or three of the pictures were group shots, with Duke and his sister and another young duck; the stranger bore the same dark gray feathers but had pale silvery hair. Mallory frowned. The resemblance among the three was plain enough—the silver-haired duck was some sort of relative, but Duke had never mentioned anyone other than his precious Lexi....

Beneath that envelope there was another one, thinner, and it too held pictures. In most of these Duke looked a little older, though he was obviously still a young man—but now he had his eyepatch, so she knew they had to be from his Brotherhood days. She couldn’t help smiling as she looked through the glossy prints; he looked so strong, so full of life, so full of...himself. Almost exclusively he was alone in these pictures, though there were a few in which Mallory recognized a young Falcone, and in others Duke was in the company of a tall brown-feathered drake that Mallory didn’t recognize. One of his Brotherhood cronies, no doubt.

There was something else in this envelope, too: a folded piece of lined paper. Mallory pulled it out and another thin sheaf of photos fell out of it. Examination of this lot showed that they weren’t pictures of Duke but of a baby, then a young boy, and then a teenaged drake—a drake with dark gray feathers and a familiar white streak in his hair.

"My God." The sound of her own voice startled her. "This is Duke’s son. This is Lauran."

She leafed through the photos slowly, savoring them. In the very last one, Lauran looked to be about fourteen or fifteen, and Duke was with him, both of them smiling broadly. Mallory could feel tears coming to her eyes as she looked at it, but she blinked them back and, on impulse, turned the picture over—and in a smooth feminine hand she saw the words From Lauran’s 14^th birthday. I think he’s going to be taller than you.

But the tears came, full force and unbidden, when she smoothed out the folded paper and saw a crayon stick-figure drawing of a gray drake; and below it, in the clumsy oversized letters of childhood, I love you Daddy.

At last Mallory choked back her sobs, swallowed the lump in her throat. Why hasn’t he showed these to me? Why does he feel he has to hide them?

And suddenly she knew what was wrong.

Duke was on the roof.

He enjoyed it up here, really; it was quiet, only him and the sky and the stars, and a faint hot breeze to ruffle his hair. Up here, alone, looking down at everything—the cars, the people, so far below, he almost felt...like God.

And as soon as he heard the footsteps behind him, he knew it was her, and he turned to face her. "Mallory."

"Duke." She looked at him and lost her breath, words failing utterly.

There were so many things she wanted to say to him, so many angry things. But no arguing, she told herself. Not now. We’ve learned that doesn’t get us anywhere....

"Duke, I—"

"I’m sorry," they blurted simultaneously, and then stopped to stare at each other, embarrassed. Tentatively Mallory smiled, and Duke opened his arms. "Mal, sweetheart."

She plunged into his embrace, and for a long delicious moment neither of them spoke, they only held each other tightly.

But at last Mallory sighed, "I was afraid I’d forget how good this feels."

"Yeah." Duke kissed her softly. "I know. And—I am sorry, sweetheart. I don’t know—something just came over me."

"I know," she murmured. It was true; she did know, most of all that it was taking him a lot of courage to apologize so openly. She eased away from him. "It’s about Lauran, isn’t it."

"What!" It wasn’t a question, exactly, and Duke backed away, his black eyes wide with ill-concealed surprise and something else, something not unlike terror. "Mal, how—I mean, what makes you think—"

Mallory smiled again, this time a little guiltily, as she pulled the sheaf of pictures from her pocket. "Let’s just say you leave things lying around."

Oh, damn. Duke groaned inwardly—he’d been so sure that everything was back in its place.... "Mal, I—"

"You miss him, don’t you?" Her voice was suddenly soft. "That’s what all this is about."

"Yeah." The gray drake sighed, partly from relief, but mostly because she was right. Mal had hit the nail on the head, as usual. "Yeah, I miss him. I worry about him. Where he is, what he’s doing, and—" He caught his breath as something else occurred to him, a realization that made his heart hammer painfully. "Today’s his birthday, Mal."

Then he heard himself say, "He’s twenty-one," and his voice sounded oddly gruff and thick. "Not—not too much younger than you, huh?"

"No. Not too much." Mallory hesitated. He looked so anguished, his dark eyes full of pain and threatening to spill over with tears. She ached to hold him; but experience had taught her that Duke at his most vulnerable was also Duke at his most unapproachable.

"Then you think he’s—"

"He’s alive. I know he’s alive." The words came out a little too quickly.

Mallory nodded. Talking about Lauran raised too many of her own uncertainties.

"I’m sorry," she whispered. "Sorry it has to be this way for you."

Duke said nothing, only nodded blindly and yanked her close again, and the hard desperation of his embrace spoke volumes. He trembled, and Mallory knew he was crying, but she only held him tighter. "I love you, Duke."

He’d pressed his face into her hair. "Love you too. And—I know what you’re thinking."

He straightened up, wiping messily at his eyes. "You’re wondering why I don’t just break down and tell the rest of the guys, right?"

The fact hadn’t been on Mallory’s mind at all, not this time, but she’d brought it up before. "Yeah. I guess. But I know you have your own reasons for keeping secrets—just like me."

"Yeah." Duke breathed a grateful prayer. Off the hook, at least for now. "But right now I don’t want to think about it...so why don’t we go down and go to bed?"

The Saurians were still talking. Lauran hadn’t learned too much more, other than that the tall skinny one was called Wraith. Certainly nothing that would help him get out of here.

His attention was attracted, though, by the sound of someone humming an old Puckworld drinking song, loudly and very off-key. Apparently Dragaunus and Wraith heard it too, because they broke off their conversation with looks of mutual annoyance; and Dragaunus said, "Where do you think you’re going?"

"You told me to feed the prisoner, boss," came the answer, in a whiny, rather nasal voice; and Lauran had to bite his tongue to keep from laughing aloud at what he saw. This was a Saurian? This little green runt? Guess Saurian genetics ain’t what they used to be....

"Chameleon." Dragaunus had the sound of an overtaxed parent. "I told you to feed the prisoner after you and Siege finish the work on the engines."

Siege? There’s another one? Lauran frowned.

"I know," the thing called Chameleon answered. "But I forgot how to get the gate open."

"Idiot!" Dragaunus bellowed. "Can’t you do anything right? Have I surrounded myself completely with fools? You’re a Saurian, nitwit—just teleport in!"

This was answered at first with silence, and Lauran cursed under his breath. Great. That’s how they get around—teleporting! Now what am I gonna do?

But Wraith answered tentatively, "There, ah, there’s a slight problem with that, Lord Dragaunus."

The Overlord snorted dangerously. "Problem?"

"It’s the plasma gate, Lord. The field nullifies our teleportation energy." Wraith appeared to be weighing his words carefully. "You can’t teleport in there—you have to open the gate manually." He glared at the Chameleon. "And I’ve already told you it’s the blue button, it matches the bars—"

He froze then. They all froze, and Lauran squeezed his eyes tightly closed as he realized they were looking at him. But he didn’t move, and Dragaunus said, "Has the brat regained consciousness since you brought him here?"

"I don’t think so, Lord," Wraith said. Lauran was elated. All these hours of fake sleep had fooled them...and now he knew what he needed to know. "Do you want me to wake him?"

"No. Just keep an eye on him. I’m going to go finish my plans," the Overlord said. "Wait about an hour and then try. He’s no good to me dead"—he chuckled darkly—"at least not yet. Chameleon, get back to those engines. I want this ship working—"

He was cut off by a distant, ominous rumble from deep within the ship; it was accompanied by a distant, ominous shout.

"What the blazes—" Dragaunus made a noise like a wounded bull. "Go see what that’s about—both of you!"

And he stalked away.

When all had been quiet for a few moments, Lauran got to his feet. Dragaunus had walked away down the corridor to his right, and the others had followed at a suitable distance. He himself, naturally, would take the other direction.

He studied the console across from his cell. It was easy enough to slip a hand between the plasma bars without touching them. Blue button...blue button....

There! In the upper left corner, apart from all the others, was a bright blue button, perhaps an inch across. The ticket to his freedom.

Lauran unbuckled his belt. One of his father’s friends in the Brotherhood had taught him the importance of carrying around small sharp objects, since a saber required close contact and wasn’t always desirable. He had a number of small shurikens tacked to the inside of his belt, near the buckle, and as he tore one loose he kept his eyes on the corridor.

No sounds. No one coming, at least not by natural means. He weighed the little metal star in his hand, made a few practice throws and decided he could dodge the plasma bars easily enough, and took careful aim. One shot, l’Orange. You get one shot....

He coiled, lashed out, released—

The shuriken struck the blue button dead on and stuck there. The plasma gate flickered and slowly dissipated. Lauran held his breath, but there were no alarms.

And he started to run.

Metal floors. Metal ceilings. Metal walls. After a few hundred yards of empty twisty passages, Lauran was beginning to wonder what sort of ship a Raptor really was.

Sometimes he passed small metal ladders leading down to other floors, and he took them. He’d never been aboard ship, but he’d seen his share of sci-fi flicks, and he knew that on these things down generally meant out.

On one such floor he passed a hunter drone in his haste, and then bolted when he realized what it was; and he was halfway down the hall when he looked back and saw that the hunter wasn’t chasing him.

The young drake paused to retrace his steps stealthily, but the hunter just stood there, and after a moment he realized that it hadn’t been activated. Heh. Looks like Dragaunus leaves his toys lying around, he thought; but inside he wanted to weep with relief.

Another ladder, another floor. At one point he walked through a giant chamber, its walls lined with inactive hunters; on another floor he encountered a room of equally immobile spy drones. Blue instead of red, the spies were flimsier and less heavily armed than their larger counterparts, but hard as hell to detect—thus their name. Lauran quickened his pace, though the lifeless metal forms drew his gaze. This is it? This is all he’s got?

But there was no more time to think—he’d come to a dead end, and before him was only a huge metal door.

Lauran stared up at it and swallowed. To one side was text in choppy Saurian script, and a small black button—but Lauran couldn’t read Saurian. He held his breath, listened. Nothing.

The young man drew a deep breath. "All right," he said. "All right—God, or whoever’s listening up there—I know I ain’t done much to get in your good book, but please tell me this thing says exit hatch and not engine room or something."

He pressed the button. There was a chime and the door hissed open—

—and Lauran stepped out into a warm dark night.

Mallory slept.

Sex could be a great sedative; and on any other night Duke would have found the thought funny. But not tonight, not when there was work to be done. Not when he was practically pacing the floor as he dressed.

At last he was ready to go. He bent over his sleeping lover and kissed her; and though Mallory murmured and stirred, she did not awaken.

"I’m sorry it has to be this way, Mal," Duke whispered. "I’m so sorry. But if you knew what was going on, you’d try to stop me."

He straightened up. "And for Lauran’s sake, I can’t allow that."

Duke had entered the Center within a moment’s time.

He easily moved in and out of shadows. Nearly six years had gone by since he'd last attempted to steal, yet it felt like it was something he had done yesterday. His body remembered how to remain hidden, his ears picked up on the slightest sound, his eyes could see through the darkness of the narrow concrete passages.

Duke had never felt so alive.

He almost felt guilty, but he immediately chastised himself. If you were as good as you think you are, you’d be done wit’ this already, l’Orange.

As he rounded a corner, he saw a closed door labeled ‘Showcases.’ After finding the blueprints, Duke had learned this was where the Device was being held on display. He retrieved a lock pick from his left belt pouch and set on the lock. With a click, the lock gave way and Duke eased into the darkened room.

He took out his flashlight and surveyed the surroundings, careful not to step or topple any displays. It was indeed a science show. Computers and strange-looking devices unlike anything Duke had ever seen on earth covered rows upon rows of tables. On any other night, Duke would have stopped to learn more about these new discoveries. But tonight, he was quickly losing patience. Come on, where is it?

He found the location of the exhibit by chance. A poster board was surrounding a display in a glass casing. The board was covered with pictures of people dressed in white lab coats and protective goggles accompanied by paragraphs explaining what they were doing. At the very bottom right hand corner was an older man holding the tiny Device, grinning widely. Dr. Spellman, I presume, Duke guessed. He peered into the casing. And that’s it? That little metal donut? Wonder what it does that Dragaunus wants it so badly....

He crouched and studied the glass casing for a few seconds. I know this is harder than it looks, or else the Saurians would have gotten it by now. Duke pulled out a small black sphere, and pressed the button on its top. A faint white gas was released, and Duke was able to see the red laser beams that surrounded the device, four in all. If the glass were lifted, the lasers would pick up on the movement.

He drew himself to his full height and stuffed the sphere back into his pocket. Duke crossed his arms thoughtfully. These humans are getting smarter…. He looked above his head, and couldn’t help but smile at an idea. Still not good enough, though.

Duke pulled out an elaborate glass-cutting tool from his belt. Standing on his toes, he ever so carefully lowered the tool onto the glass from above, taking extreme caution to avoid the beams. Once in place, the tool silently began to cut a circular opening, big enough for a person to fit his wrist through.

Once the hole was made, Duke then lowered a magnetic clamp into the opening. The device gave as the metallic hands clutched it, then gently, Duke began to pull it through. Within a few seconds, the gray drake was holding his prize.

He felt immense joy. Now all I gotta do is find the Saurians and—

The lights above suddenly turned on and glared blindingly down upon him. Duke grunted and immediately shielded his eyes. Who in the hell…?

"Where is he?" A voice not too far roared at him. Duke didn’t have to see who that was—the commanding rumble was unmistakable: Dragaunus.

Duke blinked blearily a few times before straightening again. "What?"

Even in the light, Dragaunus’s eyes glowed crimson. "You heard me, duck," he said, approaching angrily. "I said where is he?"

"Where’s who?" Duke responded, clutching the Device tightly in one hand—then awareness hit him like a truck. "You mean Lauran? You don’t know where he is?"

Dragaunus fumed. "Don't mock me! I know you’re hiding him somewhere."

Duke couldn’t help but laugh. "You lost him?" He laughed harder, and the angry Saurian came nearer, growling. He continued to back away. "Tell me, Draggy, if I had him, why the hell would I steal this, huh?"

The Overlord stopped suddenly when he noticed the Device. He eyed it hungrily, and quickly regained his composure. "Very good, Mr. l’Orange. Now," he said, holding up a hand, "hand it over."

"No!"

A shout sounded behind them, and both turned to see a young gray-feathered drake enter the room. Duke’s breath caught in his throat and he stared disbelieving. "La-Lauran!"

"Dad, don’t give it to him!" Lauran pleaded. "If you do, he’ll—"

"Silence!" the Overlord bellowed. He moved towards Duke. "Give that to me."

Duke seemed to think about it a minute as he backed away. Out of the corner of his eye, Duke saw Lauran approach behind the Saurian. "No."

"You will regret that, duck," Dragaunus spat. Almost as soon as he spoke, three green shadows formed behind him, intercepting the young drake. Caught off guard, Lauran was wrestled to the floor. Wraith pressed his staff into the drake’s back as Siege pushed his chest into the floor by using his giant orange foot. Lauran struggled, but he was trapped.

Duke lost his breath. "Get away from him!" He protested until the Chameleon pointed a laser gun directly at Lauran’s skull. Duke rushed forward, but was stopped as Dragaunus’s powerful tail came around and swatted him backward. It was accompanied by a stinging pain across his stomach, but Duke forced himself to remain standing.

He bent over and gasped for breath as the huge Saurian loomed over him. "I will not ask you again. Give it to me, or your son dies."

Duke looked hopelessly back at Lauran, who continued to struggle. "Don’t do it!" the youth cried, but he was silenced when Chameleon struck him across the jaw with the gun. Duke narrowed his eyes at the green Saurian. He then fixed his hard gaze back on Dragaunus as he relaxed his grip on the Device.

The Overlord greedily snatched it from his grasp. "Excellent," he said with an evil grin. He waved his hand, and the other Saurians released their hold on Lauran, who put a hand against his jaw tenderly. Duke was by his side in a heartbeat, helping him to stand. "Lauran…."

"And one more thing," Dragaunus said as he tucked the Device away. With a lazy sweep of his tail he shattered the glass that had contained the Device, and a wave of alarms sounded throughout the building. The Overlord chuckled. "It’s been a pleasure doing business with you," he sneered, and vanished from sight.

The two drakes were instantly on their feet and racing for the door.

They didn’t stop running until they were a block away from the Pond, carefully ducking in and out of the shadows of buildings formed by the rising of the sun. They had gone in silence the whole way, Lauran following quietly until they were out of danger. Once Duke stopped, both bent over, hands on their knees, and panted for breath.

Duke recovered quickly, and immediately drew Lauran into a hug. His voice trembled with fatigue and happiness. "Lauran...Lauran, son, you’re alive—I can’t believe, it’s been so long, I thought I’d never...." At last he gave up speech and simply put Lauran at arm’s length and looked him up and down, grinning widely.

Lauran ached just to touch him, but he knew too much for the reunion to be a joyful one. His dark gaze intensified as five years of disappointment and abandonment caught up to him. He shook his arms free, and Duke’s face fell. "Lauran, what’s—"

"How could you do that?" Lauran nearly shouted.

Duke was confused. "I don’t understand. Do what?"

"Y-you just handed that thing over to him! Do you have any idea what’ll happen?" His son’s voice shook with anger. "I’ve spent hours listening to what he’s going to do with that thing—"

Duke tried to calm him down. "I had no choice, Lauran. If I didn’t give it up, he would have killed you…."

But Lauran only saw red. "That’s no excuse, Dad! God, aren’t you supposed to be the adult here? Don’t you know I can take care of myself?"

Duke’s face saddened. This wasn’t how this was supposed to be…. "Laur, please…."

"Why couldn’t you just lie about it, say you had gotten the wrong device? God knows you lie about everything else…." He turned away, but Duke came around so he was facing him again.

"What do you mean, I lie about everything else? What’s this all about?" Duke creased his brow. "I haven’t seen you in five years, and this is how you want us to start over, with an argument?"

Lauran wanted to push the matter further, but Duke did have a point. This was no way to get acquainted again. "No. Forget it." He looked away as he sighed. "We can talk about it later. Let’s just get out of here, okay?"

Duke studied him a moment before taking a step back. He nodded and spoke softly. "Yeah, okay. Home’s this way."

But outside the Pond, Lauran faltered. "I can’t do this."

Duke was by his side in an instant. "What’s wrong? What do you mean, you can’t do this?"

Lauran looked up at the Pond, dark eyes wide. "Are they all here?"

"Who?"

"The Resistance. You were with the Resistance. Are they all here?"

"Yeah." Duke sighed heavily. "Yeah, they’re all here. What's left of them."

"Do they know about me?" Lauran whispered.

"No. We—we never talk much about that sort of thing."

But Lauran wasn’t satisfied. "Do they know what I know? About—about what you did before the Brotherhood?"

He knows! Duke’s heart seemed to drop to his feet. He knows about the Ring. So that’s why he says I’ve lied....

"Laur—" He swallowed. "Son, how do you know about—"

But he stopped again, the ghost of a memory flitting across his mind.

He sighed. "No. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know how you know. But the guys—yeah, they know." Duke watched Lauran’s eyes cloud with pain, and his heart ached. "It was to protect you that I didn’t tell you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, to protect you—"

"But I don’t need protecting anymore!" Lauran shouted. "I’m not a kid—can’t you see that?" His voice dropped to a whisper again. "Do you know how hard this has been?"

He started to turn away; but Duke, noticing something, caught Lauran’s arm and kept him from moving—and then he saw what had gotten his attention. Tiny white pinpricks, high up the inside of Lauran’s forearm, near the elbow. Obviously old, but unmistakable.

"Needle tracks," he sighed. "You care to explain this?"

He couldn’t keep the anger from his voice, and Lauran turned sullen. "Used to shoot smack. Not anymore."

"Why?" Duke demanded.

"Why not? It was something to do!" Lauran wrenched his arm from his father’s grasp. "You were gone! I thought you were dead—" His breath caught and he gulped air hugely, his voice cracking, his eyes threatening to spill over. "Dad—"

"It’s all right." Duke pulled Lauran into a hard, clinging hug as the younger man began to sob. "You’re back. I’ve got you back. That’s all that matters."

"You don’t know what’s going on," Wildwing said.

"No." Mallory wiped angrily at her eyes. "I told you that already, Wing." She’d thought of telling them what Duke had said about Lauran, but she didn’t. She knew perfectly well that Duke wasn’t acting so strangely just because he missed his son.... "But I think—I think he’s stealing again."

Tanya scowled. "So that’s it. I knew there was a reason he’s been so cagey."

Mallory nodded. "When I saw him looking at these"—she tapped the Civic Center blueprints, which she’d found balled up in the bathroom wastebasket—"I knew. I didn’t want to admit it, but I knew."

"But the Civic Center—" Wildwing shook his head; it was all quite beyond him. "What’s there that Duke would want?"

"I don’t know—"

Mallory stopped abruptly. She could hear voices in the corridor, and one of them was Duke. "Looks like he can tell us himself."

They all listened as the voices grew closer. Duke said something indistinct and was answered by laughter, and then another voice—equally indistinct, but male, and young-sounding.

"He’s got company too," Mallory snarled; and suddenly everything from the past few days, all her hurt, all her anger, just boiled over. She jumped to her feet, storming to the door just as it slid open. "All right, l’Orange, just what the hell is—"

But she stopped just as quickly, because she’d come face to face with a tall young gray-feathered drake. His quizzical gaze was black as anything, and his hair was marked with a familiar white streak...but he wasn’t Duke.

He looked down at her for a moment, then turned to Duke. "Who the hell is this bitch?"

Mallory knew she should be angry, but she scarcely heard his words—she was too wrapped up in those dark dark eyes.

"Y-you," she stammered, "you’re—"

Duke took her by the elbow and gently steered her out of the way.

"Mal, uh, guys—" He faltered, swallowed hard. "I’d like you to meet my son."

Two hours later all the immediate questions that pelted the two drakes had been answered. Everyone seemed to studiously avoid referring to Lauran's existence, or the fact that Duke had neglected to mention that he had a son; but they learned well enough what the Civic Center blueprints had been used for, and what Dragaunus had forced Duke into doing. They'd also learned, along with Duke himself, how Lauran had been brought to Earth, and how he'd eluded the Saurians and escaped the Raptor.

But there was still one question unasked, and finally Mallory voiced it. "So what do we do now?"

Wildwing turned to Tanya. "You're the science pro. Just what does this Spellman what's-it do? What's it capable of?"

"I'm not sure. I'm hoping I can contact Dr. Spellman and find out." The bespectacled blonde sounded uneasy. "I know it utilizes small-scale fusion principles, but I don't know why. Let's just say that if the Saurians are planning to use it as a weapon, it must have some major stopping power—and they won't be handing it over anytime soon."

"Then you know what we have to do." Lauran was grinning widely. "Steal it back."

Everyone stared at him, and the room became eerily quiet. At last Mallory broke the silence: "You must have hit your head really hard." She scowled at the dark-eyed drake. "Are you crazy? We can't just—just break into the Raptor!"

"No." Wildwing held up a hand to silence her, and on his face was a sort of bemused smile. "No, I think that just might work."

Mallory groaned. "Wing, you're not considering this! We're talking about the Raptor—even if we get in—hell, we don't even know where it is!"

"If we attack now, the Saurians will be caught off guard, and maybe we can get the Device back before they have a chance to do anything with it. Besides, we do know where it is." Wildwing turned to Lauran. "You think you can find it again?"

Lauran hesitated, his grin fading quickly. "I don't know...."

The team didn't seem to notice Lauran's sudden anxiety; but Duke had. He cleared his throat and came to his son's side. "Of course he can find it again, Wing. But I think we should wait—we're in no condition to face Dragaunus right now." He paused significantly. "Some of us have been up a long time—I think we should all get some rest, clear our heads, before we do anything else."

Wildwing sighed, but nodded assent. "Duke's right, we're all way too tired to face them now—or at least I am. Besides," he added, grinning at Lauran, "I bet you're hungry—I know the Saurians feed their prisoners very well. Get him fed, Duke, and set him up for some R and R. I'd say he's earned it."

Duke smiled. "You read my mind."

Duke had made a plate of sandwiches and popped a couple of cans of beer. Now he sat back, marveling at the rate his son was packing it in. "When did you eat last, kid?"

"Dunno." Lauran chewed, swallowed. "I don't know how long I was on the Raptor. Day and a half, at least. Maybe two."

But at last he pushed the plate away and drained his glass with a satisfied sigh. "That's better. Not a bad set-up you got here, Dad."

"Oh, we make do—" Duke stopped; Mallory had walked in and stood by the refrigerator, eyeing them disapprovingly. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked daggers at his son.

"So," she said, "you think I'm a bitch, huh?"

"Mal—" Duke began; but Lauran cut him off.

"In a word?" The young drake matched her glare. "Yeah."

"You know what, l'Orange—"

"Hey, hey, you two, take it easy," Duke said soothingly; but he couldn't help smiling a bit. God, no wonder Mal and Canard never got along.... "This is no way to get to know each other, and anyway...." His smile became sly, mischievous.

Lauran noticed, and seemed to forget Mallory. "What?"

Duke got up from the table and pulled his son to his feet. "I've got you fed and watered. Think you're up to a little, shall we say, retrieving mission, son?"

Lauran's sudden grin matched his father's. "You mean, like a retrieving-what-we've-rightfully-stolen mission?"

"Exactly."

Mallory frowned. "Duke—"

"It's gonna be okay, Mal," Duke answered. "We'll be in and out before Dragaunus knows we're there. But we can't have the rest of the team following after us—so if anyone misses us, we just went out for a walk, and we'll be right back." He kissed her cheek softly and gave her his most charming smile. "Sound like a plan, sweetheart? Come on, lay some cover for us."

Mallory lowered her eyes. She knew when she was defeated—and she could never say no to that smile. "All right. Fine. I'll vouch for you. But I want you both to know that I think there's a better way of going—"

She looked up then, but they were already gone. Mallory sighed again, not surprised.

They had stopped behind a cluster of bushes. "So this is it, huh?" Duke asked.

"Yeah. I've retraced the whole way, this has gotta be it." Lauran eyed the enormous crumbling warehouse curiously and shook his head in disgust. "Don't these... humans...notice when a strange building appears out of nowhere?"

"I've asked myself that a few times," Duke laughed. "Apparently not."

Lauran was about to reply, but the doors on the side of the building groaned open, and two hunter drones filed out. The young drake leaned toward his father. "Scouts?"

"Don't know." Duke eased out of his crouch. "Let's go find out."

The two moved like shadows past the two drones, which seemed oblivious to the drakes' entrance into the "warehouse." Once inside, they took cover behind an oil drum, cautiously peering into the dim maze of metallic corridors.

Duke took his saber from his shoulder but didn't activate it. "Which way?"

"I'm not sure." Lauran retrieved his own saber from the back of his jeans, and spotted a familiar-looking ladder snaking up one wall. "Offhand I'd say up, but they could have the thing anywh—"

A shot of blaster fire from behind stopped him, and the two whirled to face a whole pack of hunters charging at them. "Dammit!" Lauran yelped. "We've been spotted!"

They dove from behind the drum, sabers activated, deflecting blaster fire. They lashed out with their blades at any drones that got too near, slicing them down the middle, not bothering to watch as the fallen hunters sparked and clattered to the floor.

The drakes held their own, but they were quickly losing the battle. For every drone he cut down, Duke felt as if two replaced it. They were being outnumbered and he knew that if they wanted to avoid capture, they needed to get out of here.

He glanced worriedly over his shoulder. "Laur, we gotta—"

But he was suddenly caught off guard as something flew across his line of vision—a metal plate from a collapsing hunter, which connected soundly with the side of Lauran's head as he turned to face his father. From where he was standing, Duke heard the sickening crack of metal against bone, and he could only watch in horror as Lauran sank to the floor and lay motionless.

No, oh no.... Hurriedly Duke cut down the last of the nearer drones and raced to his son's side. "Lauran—Laur, get up, come on—" He tried shaking Lauran back to consciousness, but his hands came away covered in....

Blood. No. Oh God, please, no! Duke's heart twisted with fear and rising panic. Dodging the still-oncoming hunters, he hauled Lauran up with all his strength and pulled him away, supporting him with one arm while keeping his saber ready with the other.

The door they had entered was slowly beginning to close, and Duke had to push himself to make the exit. Gritting his teeth, he managed to get them both out the door before it closed completely, leaving behind the pack of hunter drones—and a tall, shadowed Saurian grinning wickedly inside the Raptor.

Mallory sat alone in the Rec Room, perched on Duke's favorite recliner with her knees drawn up to her chest. She still couldn't quite comprehend everything that had happened.

She sighed irritably. Why did I let them go? They're in danger, I should have stopped them—they've been gone too long as it is....

But she had to admit that Lauran wasn't anything like she had expected. He'd been a teenager in the pictures she'd found, and she'd expected that boyishness to remain. His resourceful, his...maturity...surprised her.

She smiled in spite of herself. He was the spitting image of Duke, only younger, right down to the ill-concealed angst. Mallory couldn't help wondering if Lauran was as much the charmer as his father was....

But her thoughts were interrupted when Duke stumbled into the room, Lauran's limp form half-slung over his shoulder. "Duke, what on earth—"

The sight of blood cut her off. Lots and lots of blood.

She slipped a supporting arm under the unconscious drake and helped Duke move him to the couch. "Go get Tanya."

But Duke didn't answer—he only stared sightlessly at his son's still form. Mallory shook him. "Duke, did you hear me? I said—"

But he wasn't paying attention. It was as if he weren't in the same room with her, his face etched in panic. She'd have to get Tanya herself.

Mallory was halfway out the door when a loud painful groan brought her back. Duke was instantly on his knees by the couch.

"Lauran," he breathed shakily, and was answered by a softer groan.

Mallory came to Duke's side, and carefully they helped Lauran sit up. He blinked a few times, his eyes slowly focusing, and put a hand to his bloodied forehead. "Oh, damn...."

Duke nearly sobbed. "Oh, thank God, thank God, you're all right, I thought they'd killed you—"

Lauran said nothing, but stared at his crimsoned palm, and suddenly he was on his feet. He swayed, and Duke tried to ease him back down. "Laur, you shouldn't be standing—"

"Did you get it?"

He was surprisingly lucid, but still Duke tried to pull him back down. "No, son, you got hurt. I thought—"

"It's nothing—why are we back here?" Lauran snapped impatiently. "Why didn't you get it?"

"I couldn't just leave you! I had to get you out of there." Duke got to his feet, carefully brushed his hand along the side of his son's head. "There was so much blood—Laur, I thought they'd killed you...."

Lauran swatted his father's hand away. "Oh, for God's sake, Dad! I'm fine! Head wounds just bleed a lot—I thought an assassin would know that!"

Duke flinched. "Laur, please...."

"You just don't get it, do you?" Lauran muttered. "I'm not a kid anymore! I don't need you hovering over me like—like some kind of mother hen! I don't need you to take care of me, I can take care of myself—God knows I've had plenty of experience!"

He pushed past his father and stormed out, leaving Duke and Mallory and a heavy crimson stain on the couch.

He paused in the hall bathroom to clean himself up; and now, looking in the mirror, Lauran felt a pang of regret. No wonder Dad panicked. I look like I've been hit by a truck. But he pushed the thought aside.

The metal plate had caught him above his left eye, and the cut arced redly toward his cheek. He plucked a washcloth from the rack, dampened it, and began carefully to dab the blood away, scowling at the deep red stains left on the white terrycloth. Clean, the wound seeped a little, but a few moments of pressure stopped that—the blow had been a glancing one, and the cut was shallow.

That didn't keep his head from throbbing when he bent to wash out the cloth, which by now was almost completely saturated. Wincing, he straightened up and dropped it in the wastebasket by the door.

Back out in the hall he caught sight of a metal ladder leading up one wall; and beside it was a sign that said TO ROOF.

Oh well, one out of three, maybe, Lauran thought.

He hoisted himself up and began to climb.

"Are you all right?"

Lauran swore under his breath as he recognized the voice of the redhead. What was it Duke had called her? Mallory.

"Yeah." He hugged himself a little tighter. "I’m fine."

He’d half hoped that would deter her, but he knew better; and it wasn’t long before she’d seated herself beside him. "I think you need to apologize to your dad."

He turned then, and regarded her with angry dark eyes. "I think you need to stay the hell out of our business, sister."

"Duke loves you—" she began.

"Dammit." Lauran punched the surface beneath him angrily, though the pain of flesh against unyielding metal made him instantly regret it. "Do you think I don’t know that?"

Mallory made no reply and Lauran blew his breath out hard. "I know," he said at last. "I know Dad loves me. I love him too. But—when is he gonna start treating me like I matter? Like I’m a grown man and not some little snot-beaked kid?"

When you start acting the part, she thought sourly; but she only said, "Sometimes I guess it’s hard for parents to see their kids as anything but kids."

"Yeah, well, I think it’s time the old man took off the rose-colored glasses."

Mallory looked askance at him. Why was he so angry, so resentful, so ready to lash out at everything? He reminded her terribly of Talon—surely this wasn’t how Duke had been twenty years ago….

"I give up," she said finally. "You’re as hard-headed as your father."

"Runs in the family, sister."

The word rankled. First bitch and now sister? With an irritated sigh Mallory said, "You got anymore nice words for me?"

There was the ghost of a wicked smile in his dark gaze. "’Whore’ comes to mind."

Lauran shrugged. "I’ve heard it said of most of the women that sleep with my father. Though I gotta admit, sister"—he leered at her—"you ain’t half bad."

Mallory stared at him. "You—you—just what the hell do you—"

But she got no further, because Lauran yanked her to him and kissed her.

With all her might she struggled against him, trying to push him away; but he was heavier than she, and immensely strong, and he pinned her down easily as he plundered her mouth.

Still she tried to get free of him, but her body was growing increasingly reluctant. Her mind resisted; but her senses only knew that he looked like Duke, sounded like Duke, even kissed like Duke….

Finally Lauran separated his mouth from hers, and immediately she was conscious of a sudden coolness against her skin. He was unfastening her blouse.

"Please," she whispered, not at all sure what she was pleading for.

Lauran stopped, stared down at her; then with a soft derisive laugh he got to his feet.

"See?" he said. "Whore."

And he walked away.

He hates me. Duke sat on the edge of the bed he shared with Mallory, and buried his face in his hands. My own son hates me, and it’s my fault. He’s right—he’s a grown man—but if he could only see how much I love him, that I care about what happens to him….

He sighed. I almost lost him once. I don’t want to lose him again.

There was a tap at the door, almost too faint to be heard; but Duke had been a thief for too long not to notice it. With a groan of resignation he got to his feet. Prob’ly Mal, wanting to see if I’m all right.

He opened the door—but instead of Mallory, he saw Lauran. Duke caught his breath, and for a long moment the two drakes stared at each other. Then Lauran dropped his gaze to the floor and muttered, "Can I come in?"

"Sure, sure." Duke backed hastily out of the way. "Somethin’ on your mind, son?"

"No, I just—" Lauran held his arms out to his father. "I’m sorry. Sorry about how I’ve been acting. I know you—you worry about me, and—" He faltered, became very quiet. "I worry about you too, and I shouldn’t have got mad at you about it."

For a silent moment Duke regarded him; then he said, "I love you, son."

"I know." Lauran seemed suddenly close to tears. "I love you too."

They embraced; but finally Duke stepped back, brushed a fingertip lightly over the cut above Lauran’s eye. "You ought to let Tanya look at that. I think you could use some stitches."

Lauran winced. "It’ll be all right," he sighed, "I’ve seen worse."

"Yeah." Duke smiled. "You seem to be quite the authority on head wounds."

The younger drake winced again, but this time for a different reason. "I’m the bartender at the Black Rose. Not too many nights I don’t see stuff like this."

"The Black Rose? In Drakesworth?" Duke’s eyebrows were lifted speculatively. "In my day it was a strip joint…guess we do have a lot to get caught up on."

"Yeah." Lauran grinned, the tension between them broken at last. "We do—"

But his thought was interrupted by another knock on the door, this one clearly audible. Before either of them could get to it, the door slid open, and Mallory stalked in.

"Duke—" she began; but then she saw Lauran.

She glared at him, and then turned on her heel and walked back out. "Never mind."

"Hey, wait." Lauran stumbled after her. "Mallory—"

He’d followed her halfway down the hall before she finally acknowledged him. "What?"

Her tone was pure venom, and he knew he deserved it. "I—I did what you said. I apologized to Dad. You were right, I owed it to him, and—" He drew a deep breath. "I want to apologize to you, too."

"Oh?" she replied archly, not quite buying it.

"Yeah. I didn’t really mean to call you a whore, I just…." Lauran trailed off, shaking his head. "I don’t know what’s going on anymore. All this shit keeps happening to me, and it’s all so strange…."

The redhead knew she should come up with a proper retort, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it. "I know," she answered. "I don’t suppose I was the nicest person in the world when I first got here, either. There was so much to get used to—a different climate, a different species. And hell, we were following Dragaunus, he didn’t kidnap us.

"So," she finished with a wry smile, "I guess I can forgive you."

"Fair enough," Lauran conceded. "I mean, I don’t expect us to be friends or anything, but we should at least try to put up with each other—for Dad’s sake."

"He’d like that." She stared up at him, her gaze suddenly mischievous.

"You know," she said at last, "you’re not half bad yourself, l’Orange."

"Thanks." Lauran winked at her slyly. "Sweetheart."

A short time later, they were all gathered in front of Drake One’s immense monitor.

"This," Tanya said, pointing out a diagram on the screen, "is the best I could come up with. I contacted Dr. Spellman and a couple of his engineers. The Device is a wave-generating machine."

Nosedive snorted in amusement. "What would Draggy want that for? He gonna take up surfing?"

"Not that kind of waves, Dive." Tanya glared at the teenager over the rim of her glasses. "Ultrasonic waves. Humans use something similar for medical purposes, but on a much smaller scale—" She typed in a command sequence and Drake One began showing a 3-D animation of a building being collapsed. "These waves start from a focal point—the Device—and expand out, much in the shape of—"

"Let me guess," Duke finished. "A donut."

Tanya nodded assent. "Exactly. As to how far these waves can travel, no one could tell me. They haven’t tested it—right now it’s still theoretical."

"And they put it on display?" Mallory scoffed. "Oh, yeah, that was a good idea."

Grin, at her side, was more practical minded. "Is the Pond in danger?"

The question put everyone on edge, but Tanya only shook her head. "That’s the catch to this thing. If the Saurians want a building destroyed, they’ll have to put the Device inside, so the waves can work from within. Our sensors would, you know, pick up on something like that."

"You’re right. They’re not targeting the Pond, at least not yet," Lauran said suddenly; until now he had been quiet. He paused, his expression quizzical. "I remember—I think I remember—Dragaunus kept mentioning some kind of abandoned factory. Guess he wanted to test it first."

"Abandoned factory?" Mallory sputtered. "That could be anywhere!"

"Yeah." Wildwing rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "There are a lot of derelict factories in Anaheim, we can’t watch all of them."

He was met with silence, initially; then Duke cleared his throat, a small smile playing across his beak. "I bet I know which one."

The chemical factory. Duke felt a certain grimness as he viewed it. Finish it where it starts. Rather appropriate of you, Dragaunus.

The Migrator came to a halt in front of the crumbling building, and seven ducks filed out. Wildwing activated the Mask, and confirmed Duke’s suspicions. "They’re in there all right. This is the one—"

The words were barely out of his mouth when a shot of laser fire screeched through the air and burned into the ground at his feet. He backed up hurriedly, his teammates gathering around him in a fighting formation as twenty hunter drones came charging their way.

Lauran grunted as he ducked to avoid a shot and activated his saber. "Not these guys again!"

Duke followed suit. "You get used to ‘em, kid."

Just then Wildwing activated his ice shield to deflect another blast. They were fighting furiously, but to no avail, getting no closer to the factory. If they wanted to stop the Saurians, they would have to stop them now....

"Duke! Lauran!" Wing shouted. "Get in there and stop them—we’ll cover you!"

"We’re on it!" Duke cut down a drone and bolted for the interior, Lauran at his heels.

They entered the building through a broken window and climbed a ladder up to the rafters, moving silently as mice. They halted above the center of the factory, directly over three Saurians who were making adjustments to the tiny Device. Siege was the first to stand up, stretching; then he walked over to the watching Dragaunus and made an indistinct remark, causing a wicked grin to crease the Overlord’s lips.

Lauran sighed soundlessly. "Whatever he said, it must have been good news."

"Yeah. Here’s the plan," Duke whispered. "I’ll jump down and distract them, and you get over there and destroy that thing. Got it?"

Lauran started to answer, but a flash of movement caught his eye. Down there, behind some drums. It was that little green Saurian he’d seen earlier—

—and he was aiming a laser rifle right at them!

"Shit! They know we’re here!" Without thinking Lauran whirled, shoved his father off the rafters. A blast of laser fire rocked the beam and the younger drake stumbled, his vision blurring. He couldn’t see! He couldn’t see and he was falling—

Lauran felt something wrap around his waist with a familiar sound. He forced his tearing eyes open, saw the ground rushing up at him. He braced himself for impact...and his body stopped, his beak inches from the floor.

Then, Duke simply dropped him.

Lauran wiped at his eyes as he shakily got to his feet. "That’s twice in one day you’ve saved my ass, old man."

Duke didn’t have the energy to smile. "Thank me later," he panted.

"I had a feeling I would see you two again." It was Dragaunus, the silky voice bringing them both upright, sabers drawn and pointed at his throat.

The Overlord didn’t even flinch. "Since you were so kind to supply me with the means to my victory," he purred, "I’ve decided to return the favor." He stretched out one huge hand to reveal a teleporter nestled in his palm. "Take it. It’s set for Puckworld. Forget this planet. Forget the Resistance. Go back to your lives of crime and leave me to my conquest."

His eyes narrowed. "Do I have an answer?"

The two drakes regarded him. Lauran gripped his saber a little more tightly. He’s lying. That thing’s not set for Puckworld...is it? He shook his head in disgust. "Ah, no. No way, you walking—"

Duke put a hand to his son’s wrist, forced him to lower his saber. "Hang on there, son. I think it’s worth discussing—you’ve got to admit it’s tempting."

Lauran gaped. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! I didn’t hear you say that."

"Well." Duke still had his hand on Lauran’s wrist. "I haven’t seen home in a long time, son. And after that heist last night...." His voice lowered as his gaze locked with Lauran’s. "I realized how much I miss it."

What the hell? What’s with him? Why does he keep letting Dragaunus talk him into this shit? Lauran knew he should say something, anything, but he was dumbfounded.

He blinked, still staring, and this time he caught a gleam in his father’s eyes.

There was the subtlest shift in Duke’s dark gaze. He had fleetingly looked behind them. Lauran did the same, and the realization hit him like a ton of bricks.

The others were in the building.

Duke gave Lauran’s wrist a small reassuring squeeze. Trust me.

Lauran stepped back, smiling. "Yeah. Yeah, that was a lot of fun, Dad." He gave the last word a hard emphasis, not missing Dragaunus’ sudden quizzical look. "But you gotta admit, that would be a lot more fun back home—and easier."

"Oh, I know." Duke’s smile mirrored his son’s. "’Course, we would be leaving the others."

Lauran gestured dismissively. "Ah, who cares? They’d only get in the way, especially that bitch Mallory."

Dragaunus was growing impatient, though; and with a growl he interrupted the two drakes. "Do I have an answer?"

"We’ll take it," Duke said, holding his hand out; and Dragaunus gave him a fanged smile as he dropped the teleporter into the drake’s palm. "It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, Draggy."

Suddenly the air was thick with pucks. Dragaunus roared in fury—he’d completely failed to notice that the other ducks were in the building. He brought his fists crashing down onto the floor where Duke had stood, but the thief was no longer there; he and Lauran had long since vanished from the Overlord’s sight.

They slid to a halt, nearly slamming into Nosedive, who was firing pucks at the other Saurians. "Dive!" Duke shouted. "Where are the others?"

"Tanya and Grin are trying to disarm that thing! Me and Wing are covering for them!" The nearest drone exploded, and Dive whooped. He yanked out an extra puck blaster and tossed it to Lauran. "Care to help, bro?"

Lauran snatched it from his grip, smirking. "You bet."

Across the factory, Tanya and Grin had been working frantically to disarm the Spellman Device—the Saurians had set its timer before they’d teleported out—but now they only had a few precious minutes to work with. Tanya yelped as she dodged a drone’s laser fire. "Come on, we’ve got to destroy this thing—we don’t have time to defuse it!"

Grin smashed a drone with his bare hands. "How?"

Tanya stared hard at the Device. Barely a minute now. She straightened up, searching, searching—

—and her gaze lit on a short squat metal drum, lettered in red.

"Grin!" She waved at him. "That drum—it’s hydrochloric acid! Grab it and pour it over the Device, and get the hell out of the way! Hurry!"

The remaining drones were approaching them, even though the metal monstrosities were slowly being destroyed by friendly fire. Grin hoisted the drum onto his shoulder, quickly pulled up an edge of the lid, and dumped the acid over the tiny Device. Immediately a thick haze of smoke sprouted from the hissing metal. Grin dropped the drum and scooped up Tanya, and the two ducks stumbled to safety.

Wildwing was at their side in an instant. "Are you two okay?"

Tanya got to her feet and Grin followed, both of them wiping at streaming eyes. "Yeah." She looked to where the Device had been, but now there was only a small lump of corroded metal in the midst of a puddle of acid. "We’re all still here. That must have done it."

Everyone sighed with relief. "That was way too close for comfort, man," Dive grumbled as he pushed sweaty hair back from his face. "Since when did Dragaunus make so many drones? I’ve never seen so many...." He shook his head and trailed off as the ducks slowly made their way out of the building.

But Duke hung back, and he put out a hand to stop Lauran. The younger drake turned, eyebrows arched in silent surprise. For a moment Duke regarded him, feeling his stomach twist into knots; then he took a deep breath and dropped the Saurian teleporter into Lauran’s hand.

"Happy birthday, kid."

They were on the roof of the Pond, just the two of them. Lauran had already said his short goodbyes to his father's teammates, and now....

"So." Duke swallowed hard. "I—I guess this is it."

"I guess it is." Lauran gripped the teleporter more tightly, felt his eyes grow hot and prickly. "Dad—you're sure you're not coming?"

They'd discussed it once already, but that didn't make things easier. Duke warred with himself still—he wanted to go, ached to go, to say the hell with everything and forget it all and go home. It would be so easy....

But going home like that meant leaving Mallory. He knew her too well to think she'd ever be content to abandon Earth to Dragaunus' tyranny—she couldn't do it, anymore than he himself could—and he wouldn't leave her.

"No." Duke shook his head, surprised at how hollow his own voice sounded. "I want to—God, I want to—but I can't, son. Not now. Not while there's still so much to do." He sighed raggedly. "I left too many things undone on Puckworld. I don't want to repeat myself here."

Lauran nodded after a moment. "I understand," he said; and he knew it was a lie. No, I don't understand. I'll never understand. I just know I'm on my own again.

Duke knew it too. "Someday," he said. "Someday, this'll be over, and I'll be home. I promise," and to himself he added, Dear God, let me keep this one.

He held his arms out, and the two drakes embraced. Neither of them spoke; nothing needed to be said.

But at last they broke apart, and reluctantly Lauran muttered, "I guess I should go."

"Yeah, I guess you should." Duke wiped at his eyes. "Give my regards to the Brotherhood—and try to be a better thief than I was."

"Sure." Lauran laughed; and the tension that had been building between them suddenly dissipated. "Puckworld will never know what hit 'em."

"That's my boy," Duke said; and then, as he watched, Lauran activated the teleporter. There was a rush of green light, a shimmer and then...nothing.

He was gone.

"That's my boy," Duke whispered; and he sank to his knees and started to cry.

He didn't know how long he'd been there when Mallory, behind him, said, "He's gone."

"Yeah." Duke got shakily to his feet, felt himself all over. His mouth seemed full of ashes.

He looked stricken, and Mallory slipped her arm around his waist. "He's a good guy. You should be proud of him."

He returned her embrace. "I am."

For a moment they stood together in silence, looking up at the stars, and then Mallory said, "I guess I owe you another apology."

His grip on her tightened. "For what?"

"For doubting you. For misjudging you—again. For—for thinking you'd ever betray us...or me." She was close to tears.

Duke pressed his face into her hair. "Sweetheart."

They clung together fiercely. After a few moments Mallory looked up, sniffling. Duke grinned at her and she giggled, their good humor finally restored. "Love you," she sighed.

He kissed her softly. "Love you too."

He started to slide his hands down her body and she backed away. "I—I brought you something."

From the back pocket of her jeans she produced a fold of black leather, and Duke recognized the wallet that held his lockpicks. "Mal? What in the world...?"

"You can have them"—she put the wallet in his hands—"if you show me how to use them."

Duke stumbled back from her, dumbfounded. "What?"

She put her hands on her hips. "You heard me, l'Orange. Show me how to use them."

Duke stared at her, and slowly his astonishment turned to a crooked grin. "Mal, you're serious."

"Of course." She returned the smile. "It might come in handy—besides, I've got to make sure you keep your skills up. You don't want to lose your edge."

To Mallory's utter bewilderment, Duke started laughing.

"Sweetheart," he said, "I think I already have."