OPPOSITE RECIPROCAL
Chapter 1
Copyright 2007 by Q Illespont
All characters are property of their respective owners (mostly Disney) and used without permission.
The Thunderquack soared over the city. Unusually for it and its occupants, Darkwing Duck and Launchpad McQuack, it was a bright shiny day; Darkwing preferred prowling at night. Still, he stewed in anticipation as they approached their destination. 'Come on, J Gander Hooter said it was important that we get--whoa.'
As Launchpad flew the plane, Darkwing leaned forward to see the construction equipment surrounding SHUSH headquarters. 'What's going on here? I hope we're not too late.'
Launchpad chuckled. 'Don't worry, DW, I'll get you to J Gander's office!' He pushed forward on the controls ...
---
Vladimir Goodenov Grizzlikov grimaced as the building shook from the crash. He turned, and grumbled in his native Russian as he assessed the damages--likely thousands of dollars.
True to his word, Launchpad had delivered Darkwing to J Gander Hooter's own office in SHUSH headquarters. Much to the dismay of Chief Agent Grizzlikov, he was delivered straight in, without stopping at the secret SHUSH landing pad first. 'What are you being, duck or wrecking ball?' he bellowed.
'Now now, Agent Grizzlikov,' J Gander Hooter said as he crawled out from under his desk; he always seemed more patient with Darkwing's grand entrances, whether planned or unplanned, and could tell by how Darkwing dropped out of the smashed cockpit of his craft, surrounded by generic grey smoke instead of his trademark blue, that this was certainly unplanned on his part. 'I summonned Darkwing here so he can assist us. We're needed in the research lab.'
Darkwing groaned, half from his crash and half from wondering what new horrors--er, inventions, he self-corrected in his mind--awaited him in the R&D section. The fact he was invited helped boost his enthusiasm. 'So, what do you have in there? A new weapon? A DNA spectrolyzer? A stealth generator that can aid the midnight mallard's mission of mauling malicious Mafiosi?'
'It's actually some sort of teleporter,' Hooter said as he opened the lab's main entry vault. 'I'll let Doctor Bellum explain.'
They went in, where Doctor Sarah Bellum turned from her work and approached the party. Darkwing looked over to the taller scientist, who smiled pleasantly as she greeted the four men. 'Oh, hello, Darkwing, glad to see you again. Please pardon the mess.'
'Is like home for him,' Grizzlikov grumbled, stepping over a pile of debris. In fact, aside from the walls, much of the lab seemed disassembled, some parts explosively. Machinery lay in piles on the floor, parts dangled from wall mounts, technicians yelled as they used some smaller vehicles to load scrap.
'We've developed another secret device,' Bellum gushed, 'and we need you to help us keep it safe.' She led the group over to what appeard to be an old-fashioned telephone booth. 'And here it is!'
Darkwing looked unimpressed as he examined it. 'Let me guess, you've developed the unportable phone?' he quipped.
'Hardly,' she answered. 'Instead, this is a special device that can tap into the quantum mysteriotics that determine phase and intersection of eventualities.'
'Huh?' was all Darkwing could respond with; Launchpad was totally lost, and even Hooter and Grizzlikov seemed uncomprehending.
Doctor Bellum sighed. 'It can send you to an alternate reality.'
'Whoa,' Darkwing said. 'I could really use ... um ... er.' He scratched his head under his hat. 'Actually, what can I use it for?'
'No, no, no, Darkwing,' Bellum scolded. 'We need you to store it for a few days.'
Darkwing frowned. 'So you want me to hold onto your ... um ... what is this thing again?'
Doctor Bellum beamed and said, 'I forgot to tell you--we call it a Teleporter to Alternate Reality Disguised As a Telephone--TARDAT for short.'
Launchpad thought for a few moments, then asked, 'Tar dat what?'
Before Doctor Bellum could answer, Hooter intervened. 'The original name for the project was a Telephone for Assisting Reconnaissance in Dimensions Instead of Space, or TAR--'
Grizzlikov immediately shushed the SHUSH leader with a paw over his beak and looked grimly to Darkwing. 'Lawyers from British BBC broadcasting demanded us seize and desist with acronym. Is mark of trade to them.'
'Ooooh, right.' Darkwing was sympathetic to the lawyers from his own efforts in maintaining his own image for merchandising.
Hooter prodded Grizzlikov's paw away. 'Anyway, Darkwing, we need you to securely store this device.'
'Of course. What are you hiding it from--FOWL finagling? Fearsome Five felony? Doctor Slug trying to infiltrate disguised as an ordinary--'
Hooter shook his head as he interrupted Darkwing. 'No, Darkwing. We're remodelling the building.'
Darkwing sagged. 'And you need me to hide it from the contractors?'
Hooter nodded. 'Exactly.'
Doctor Bellum added, 'Especially since the last time we left projects lying around for remodelling, five contractors disappeared and a sixth developed a third arm.'
'What happenned to him?' Launchpad asked.
'He raised his rates by 50 percent.'
Darkwing waved his arms. 'Allright, let's get this loaded.'
---
Gosalyn bounded down the stairs as the day broke. It was promised to be a bright shiny summer's day, and she was ready to get out and enjoy it. She threw open the front door, took in a lungful of the summer Saint Canard air ... and promptly sputtered as she was hit full in the face with a thunderstorm.
Slamming the door shut, she grumbled and tried to wring the water out of her jersey and her hair. 'Great. There goes baseball practice,' she groused, then smiled. 'Or does it?'
She quickly ran over to the telephone and punched in a familiar number. 'Hey, H--um, Mrs Muddlefoot! Could you put Honker on the phone?'
'Why, certainly, Gosalyn!' the perky housewife answered, and Gosalyn could hear her walk off and yell for her son.
After a few more footsteps, she heard Honker pick up. 'Yeah, Gos?' he asked.
'Hi, Honker. Say, it's raining out and I thought we could get in some practice up in the tower.'
She could hear Honker's hesitation as he answered, 'But your dad--'
She cut him off quickly. 'Dad's asleep, and he won't be up till it's night. Besides, we'll cover up anything fragile. Come on!'
'Oh, allright..'
'Great! Meet you there!' She hung up and dashed to the chairs, hit the statue, and spun to the Tower.
---
Honker eyed the vast chamber warily. 'Gosalyn, are you sure this is gonna be allright? The last time you broke something, your dad threw a fit.'
'Relax, Honker,' she replied. 'I promised Dad I wouldn't do batting practice in here. Besides, he hid my bat.'
'So what're we going to do?'
'Something safe,' she said, and shoved a baseball into Honker's hands. He already had his glove, and hurriedly put it on as she set down a piece of sheet metal. 'We're gonna work on your pitching!'
'But--'
'Come on, Honker. It doesn't matter how many runs I knock in if the other team gets more!'
'But we need someone to help me set up a strike zone,' Honker protested. 'It's based on the batter's knees and torso.'
'I said don't worry, Honker.' Gosalyn jogged a few yards away, gauged the distance, shrugged off any possible errors, and set down a facsimile of a home plate. She then dashed off, and returned with her catcher's gear and a life-size statue of Darkwing, posing heroically. 'Just pretend this's the batter,' she said, and set it up to stand by the plate. She then crouched down, smacked the catcher's mitt she held, and sneered. 'Now let's get a curveball in here!'
Honker took his stance, checked the nonexistent bases around him, reared back, and threw the ball. He smiled as it sped towards Gosalyn's glove and slapped home.
'Right over the inside corner--steeeeerike one!' she called and threw it back. 'Gimme a slider!'
Honker nodded, more confident. He wound up, pitched, and was rewarded with a thwap and a giggle. 'Right across the knees and Darkwing Duck is now at 0 and 2! Let's sucker him in with something low and outside!' Gosalyn threw the ball back.
Honker wound up and threw. Gosalyn reached down for the pitch ... then quickly got the ball into her left hand and hurled it back past Honker. He ducked and heard it bounce off behind him as Gosalyn walked up. 'And the runner's gunned down at second!'
'Gosh, Gos,' he said, 'why aren't you pitching? That's a fast throw.'
'Because..' She thought for a moment. While she was confident she could handle the mound (as well as any base, shortstop, anything in the outfield, as well as managing and coaching), she still needed teammates--as the ball rolling against the far wall testified, lacking an actual second baseman or shortstop to field the throw-out attempt. And she knew enough that Honker wouldn't like being put on the mound just as a favour to him, especially since he was a decent pitcher in his own right. Plus, there was the fact that she preferred offense to fielding.
She finally recovered from her planning. 'Er..because the catcher tells the pitcher what to do, right? So I tell you what to pitch and you burn it in there!'
'I could--'
Gosalyn interrupted him by yelling, 'Become a Cy Young winner!' and ran over to get the ball. She handed it back to Honker on the way back, and got in position behind the plate. 'OK, Honk, it's now 3 and 2, and the guy on third is ready to break for home. Two outs, and we don't wanna risk an error. Gimme the high heat!'
Honker shook his head, settled, and wound up once more. He focussed on the glove, held at about the centre of the strike zone, and put everything he could into the pitch.
His foot then slipped out from under him. As he fell to the ground, he could tell he put too much effort and not enough control. Just as he landed on the hard floor, he saw and heard the ball smack the head off the statue, and watched it deflect from the impact as it sailed on past.
Gosalyn winced. 'Aaand ... he reaches hit by pitch,' she groused..then cringed as she heard an all too familiar sound, a baseball smashing through glass. 'What?'
Honker got up and ran with Gosalyn over to where the ball had flown to. They blinked in surprise at what they found: the shattered glass was from an old steel telephone booth. 'Whoa,' they both gaped as they looked at it.
'This isn't an old facsimile,' Honker finally said. 'There's no wiring or anything connecting it to the phone lines.'
'It must be a hotline to the President!' Gosalyn yelled out. 'I knew they'd finally figure out all the stuff Dad does for the world!'
'I'm not sure about that, Gos. Why would it be in a phone booth?'
Gosalyn walked over and opened the door to survey the damage inside. 'They were probably in a hurry. Besides, it's government stuff, not like SHUSH stuff.' She tried to climb in, and grunted. 'Hey..what gives?'
Honker came over and poked warily. 'It's like it's smaller on the inside than it is on the outside.'
'Weird,' Gosalyn replied. 'Anyway, there's a phone in there. I guess I'd better call the window guys.'
'But how'll they get here?'
Gosalyn managed to get inside and lifted the receiver. 'I'll tell 'em to bring it back to the house. Then we get it back here. I'm sure you've saved up enough allowance to pay for it, anyway.'
Honker gaped. 'Me?'
Gosalyn nodded. 'Yep. For ONCE it's not my fault for breaking the glass. Cool, huh?'
'Wonderful.'
Gosalyn frowned as she held the telephone to her ear. 'Great, no dial tone.' She banged on the switchhook a few times. 'Honker, can you check if this thing's plugged in?'
'I thought I already said it wasn't,' he answered. 'Just the box here.'
Gosalyn grumbled. 'Great,' she said, and started stabbing the 0 button repeatedly. 'Come on, someone, pick up.'
After a few stabs, she finally heard a voice through the telephone. It sounded like a standard recording and said, 'Thank you for activating the TARDAT. You have selected ... "unknown" ... as your destination. Please enjoy your trip in the Teleporter to Alternate Reality Disguised As a Telephone.'
'Honker,' she said, 'that sounds weird.' She hung up the phone and turned to exit, but the door suddenly slammed shut. 'Hey!' she yelled. 'Open this up!'
Honker jumped back as the door snapped closed, and started pulling. 'It's stuck!' he said.
Gosalyn looked around the now glowing, shuddering, groaning booth, and then looked to the smashed windowpanes. 'Well, it can't get any more broken,' she mutterred, and dove for the opening. She then screamed as she was caught by some sort of energy field, and flung back into the booth. 'Honker!'
'What's it doing? What'd it say?' he asked. He ran over to the broken window and tried to reach in, but felt the force barrier as he tried to get in. Straining, he yelled, 'Grab my hands!'
Gosalyn reached to hold on, but as she almost touched Honker's outstretched hands, the energy surged again, sending the two children flying away from each other. Gosalyn winced as she slammed into the opposite wall of the booth, and jumped to her feet ... only to hit her head on the telephone unit itself. She slumped back down, dazed.
'It feels like a magnetic field,' Honker yelled over the growing din. 'I think it's trying to make up for the broken glass!'
'Huh?' was all Gosalyn could manage. She stayed down, watching the glowing lights and wondering which were real and which were just the booth.
Honker stood back as the entire booth suddenly shook, jumped a few times, and gave out one huge wheeze. Then, to his astonishment, it exploded, knocking him over with the onrush of air and sound. He got to his hands and knees, rearranged his glasses, and stared over at the slight scorch mark on the floor where the booth once stood.
'Gosalyn? Gosalyn? Gosalyn!'
