Another Kind of Goal
Chapter 1: Operation Ishtar

A/N- It's taken me forever to come up with a title, even a bad one, other than that this has been sitting completed on my computer since before Second Time Around was finished. -_-' Picks up right where STA left off. Rat and Jay are from aforementioned prequel. Ducks belong to Disney. Rat's POV

*****

"Hey! Rodent!"

I'm startled at the voice, startled even though I was somewhat expecting it. "Whatcha want, Mallard? And make it quick. I don't have too much time to waste with quacks like you."

Adam laughs, and drops onto the grass next to me. "Mallard? Nice, but I don't believe we're associated with any particular species. So how goes the campaign?"

"Operation Ishtar is in full effect."

"Operation what?"

"Ishtar! Y'know, goddess of love and war...?" He gives me a look, and I shut up. I guess the hint is that next time I make up operation names, I should check with the others doing the operating.

It's a very simple concept. Varsity has been pounding on their loyal (...somewhat) goalie quite a bit lately. Most of this is because of his romantic involvement with a certain feline Duck. People who mess with other people's love lives when they aren't invited really piss me off. Adam agrees.

Between the two of us, we can enlist the help of two soccer teams and a hockey team to go about waging war on Varsity hockey. Thus the evil plot we... er... I call Operation Ishtar.

Yes, I'm quite odd.

"Hockey season's over," he points out. "Just how are you guys pulling this off? And when do we get to help?"

"We've got our ways," I mutter vaguely. The fact is, we haven't exactly done anything yet... but he doesn't need to know that. We're waiting for next weekend, when the soccer season ends. At least then we can't get suspended for any games. "And as soon as you're ready to help us out, we'll take it."

He nods, and for a few minutes we just sit there watching the Warriors practice. And suddenly I catch sight of the lovebirds themselves. "Cat! Scooter!"

"Yell it loud enough for the whole campus to hear, why don't you," Adam mutters. I take a deep breath and prepare to do just that, but he slaps a hand over my mouth. "You're hopeless."

"I pride myself on my hopelessness."

Scooter and Cat walk over, and I cringe when I see the Varsity goalie's face. His teammates have been pounding him again. "Scooter, shouldn't you tell someone about this?"

"Coach has already told them off. Frequently. It doesn't really hurt much, really, I just look like hell. You didn't call me over here to discuss hockey politics, did you?"

I'm not sure why I called them over, now that I think about it. Seemed like a good idea at the time. Luckily, Adam makes a smooth recovery. "Actually we were wondering if you guys can still make it to the study group tomorrow."

Right... the study group. For the big algebra test that all the freshmen are having this Friday, which Scooter's volunteered to help us study for. This particular session's really a surprise birthday party for the Cat (who said she didn't mind studying on her birthday, which is just wrong), but for obvious reasons she doesn't know that yet.

"We'll be there," Scooter assures us.

*****

Linda's actually in our room when I get back at 7, which is really odd. Most nights she's out until at least 9... I believe Monday is when she and a bunch of other prep girls I'm not too fond of go out shopping.

"Shopping spree get cancelled?"

"Coach Anderson's been looking for you," she answers, blatantly ignoring my question. I don't mind too much though, not after I hear the news. Coach Anderson is the Warrior soccer coach, what's he want with me? I go back the way I came.

"Miss Griffian," he greets me, and I barely resist getting upset. Miss Griffian. Right. "As you know, the grade check for this weekend's game was today."

"Yeah..."

"You've improved yourself to a C average." What!? Is he kidding? I just failed a math test last Friday... maybe there are some merits to homework, after all. "So we're placing you back on the Warriors, effective immediately. We don't have a practice tomorrow," Doesn't he think I know that? The Inferno practices on Tuesdays, "but drop by sometime after four to get your uniform."

"I... I'll do that," I stammer, and hurry out.

*****

Oddly, Cat doesn't seem at all surprised at her surprise party. I guess she's too smart to believe we'd all forgotten her birthday.

She nearly cracks up when she sees my present. It's a white T-shirt with a very cranky-looking cat on it, and written above it is "What part of MEOW don't you understand?" She immediately yanks it on over the shirt she's already wearing.

Scooter's present beats everyone's out, of course. It's a ring. He's quick to protest when we ask him when the wedding is, "It's not an engagement ring!" But we know it's only a matter of time. And he knows we know it.

After the party, in which no math textbooks were allowed, Adam and I wander over to the soccer field. The Inferno is practicing, and it hits me that I never got around to telling anyone I've switched teams. Hey, rats have small brains! It's not my fault!

Before Adam gets a chance to ask me why I'm not practicing, Jeff Denton and Darryl Ritter pounce on me. Jeff is the Inferno's backup (well not anymore) sweeper and Darryl is the captain, and they both look profoundly pissed. "Rat, what's this about you getting switched to the Warriors?" Jeff demands.

"There's one game left in the season!" Darryl agrees.

Adam blinks. "You got on the Warriors?"

Oh, this is lovely, just lovely. I think I'm starting to get a headache... the rest of the Inferno gathers around too. I don't like being the center of attention, and they know it, so I guess they really ARE ticked...

"Lay off, I just found out about it last night, and Coach Anderson didn't exactly give me any opportunity to protest." They glare. "Besides, your only other game's against the Tangerines and everyone knows they suck, you won't need me."

This seems to satisfy them somewhat, and they go back to practicing. Except for Ian 'Fox' Alberti, the backup striker. We call him Fox for a reason, he's the trickiest little creep you could ever hope not to meet. Yes, I do mean creep. Nobody on the team exactly likes him, but he's brilliant at coming up with ideas for prank wars.

He gets right to the point. "Is the anti-Varsity hockey campaign still go?"

"Yeah..."

"Hang around. I've got some ideas."

*****

Fox's 'ideas' were all brilliant, of course. The soccer teams are sticking to their neutrality until the season ends but the Ducks have no such restraint—they're executing the first strike of Operation Ishtar right now.

While I get to sit here in my new Warrior jersey studying.

With Linda.

Well Linda's not studying, actually, she's reading some sappy romance novel that would probably make me hurl by page 2. It's enough to make me glad I'm reading a math book, and that's more disturbing than I care to think about.

She squeals, and I know she's gotten to the sappiness of all sappiness. If she didn't make so much NOISE while she reads it wouldn't bother me, but she's keeping me from concentrating on polynomials and if she makes another sound I'm going to throw something at her. And the only thing available to throw is a 1000-page textbook.

Somebody pounds on the door.

"Griffian, get that," Linda orders. Charlie got her to call me Rat, once upon a time, but she's reverted to Griffian now.

I glare, and just barely refrain from flinging Algebra You Can Use in her face.

The pounding starts up again. "I'm coming! Cool your jets." I expect it's Jay, he does drop by often. And at strange hours. "We really need to work on your impatience prob—" I shut up as I yank the door open and come face to face with Scooter.

And he's a mess.