Well, after... A really long time, here's chapter 2. I hope you like it; I don't feel it's quite as good as the first, but at least I'm back in the mindset for writing this...


"Gimmie the short and sweet!" cried Dodgers.

IQ-High sighed, "In one week, two days, and 14 hours, time is going to stop."


Despite this astounding revelation, Dodgers's attention was elsewhere.

"Did you hear what I just said?" asked IQ High. "And what are you doing to my ball-point pen? It's an antique, you know."

"Oh yeah, about that," the duck muttered as he handed his commander the charred, beaten, emotionally-scarred, functionally-challenged remains of the writing instrument.

One could literally see an aura of anger building around IQ as he took the charred remains of his prize possession. "That pen was worth more than our entire fleet of Consternation-class starships." The light bulb on his head began pulsating as his veins began to show. "Get out."

"Okey dokey, doc." happily enunciated the incompetent duck as he bounced out of the office. He shortly returned. "By the way, I was thinking, I've been working a lot, and I think I should be getting a bit of a raise, you know? Whaddya' think?"

"OUT!" screamed the doctor, who was by now completely red and beginning to shrivel with anger.

"Eh, think about it," suggested the cause of the third Eartho-Martian war as he left the office. Had he waited outside IQ's door, he would have heard three astro-phone calls.

"Hello, Cadet? It's IQ. I want you to do two things. First and foremost, fix the universe. But once you're done with that, take Dodgers and leave him on some far-away desert planet with no atmosphere."

"Hello operator, get me the Martian queen. Five-hundred astro-dollars for ten minutes? Yes, fine, I accept the charges. Those annoying, stupid automated operators.. Why, if I ever get to... Oh, your majesty! Um yes, well, he's on his way."

"Is my dry cleaning ready? What do you mean you lost it? Why you little, incompetent..."

Passers-by at the Protectorate HQ might have noticed one of the top windows breaking and a stream of fire emanating. They most certainly heard the days of screaming.


"The doc seemed pretty ma-mu-me-ma-mo-mu he's-gonna-blow-his-top... Did you do anything..." asked the Cadet.

"Now, when have I ever done anything that wasn't in everyone's best interests?" hastially replied Duck Dodgers.


"We are the Borg. You will lower your shields and surrender your ships. You will take us to Earth where we will assimilate the human race." blared the com. channel.

"Eh, why not," decided Dodgers.


"And," continued Dodgers, "I recommend that the entire Protectorate switch from Linux to Ubersoft Nifty Doors.


"What possible harm could opening this unknown portal which says 'DO NOT OPEN; HOSTILE AND HIGHLY POWERFUL LIFE-FORMS ON OTHER SIDE' do?"


"Well, we better get going, Doc said something about eggs not having membranes or something..." murmered the all-too-evident menace.

"No Captian, we were supposed to fix time, remember?"

"Oh yeah; do you think we could swing by McCoy's and get a burger first? That's an order."


Next time, on Time Duck:

Dang-it Jim, I'm a doctor, not a chef.


To all reviewers:

Thanks for reviewing, it's fun to see people actually like what I write. Heh, now I just need to figure out myself where the plot's going. :)