AUTHOR'S NOTE: Before we begin, I hope all of you out there are having a merry Christmas and a happy Holiday season. Best wishes from me to you!
Just outside of Earth's atmosphere, a sinister starship floated dormant, locked in geosynchronous orbit with the planet. The sloping silver exterior and giant duck beak at the front resembled no interstellar object ever created on Earth.
Hence why there were no Earth astronauts inside. Instead, walking to the elevator, having deposited their discs near the bay hatch, were Zargon and Kursaal.
"B-but, sir," Kursaal whined to his superior, "if the general finds out that we tried to cover up our failure, we will be space dust for sure!"
"I don't understand why you are so apprehensive, Kursaal. After all, this was your brilliant idea."
"Yes, but I didn't imagine you would take me seriously!"
After pressing the button to call the elevator, Zargon turned to address Kursaal face to face. "Kursaal, if you ever want to become a great leader in this empire, you must act on your instincts, and maintain confidence no matter what the fates decide. Now, can I trust you to keep that confidence, or do you need to wait in your quarters like a private?"
Kursaal hesitated as if he were going to respond. Instead, he bowed his head and said nothing more, which pleased Zargon. His first mate's grating voice was wearing down his patience. Patience he would need for this deviation in their mission.
The elevator door gave way, and the two stepped inside and remained silent throughout their short ride.
The elevator halted and the doors opened, revealing the main deck, where a crew of ten Evronians was overseeing powerful computers situated in a long row against the far wall. A wide glass windshield protected the stalwart crew from the elements.
As Zargon and Kursaal stepped out of the elevator, each crew member halted their tasks and kneeled to pay their respects.
"Might and power to you, Captain Zargon," they chorused in greeting.
"Everyone up," Zargon responded, and everyone returned to their feet, their full attention focused on him. He sat in his captain's chair in the center of the deck and addressed his crew. "Our duties are far from over. Our mission on Earth has led to the discovery of a new priority target. Kursaal?"
Kursaal scampered to the computer closest to him and began typing on the virtual keyboard on-screen. The giant monitor in the center of the ship hummed to life, and as all eyes fell upon its crystal glass, various charts and graphs popped up into view. All in attendance gasped at the sight.
On the screen was a complete profile of Gosalyn. The tracker was relaying information on Gosalyn's emotional power as well as her location. Every eye was transfixed on the incredible results, every brain was buzzing with the potential uses of such a powerful sentimental core.
"I can see some of you have already calculated the detour we shall be making," Zargon said with pride, "This little girl is a valuable asset for our scientific community and can unlock untold power for our armies. That's precisely why her capture and delivery to Venus shall be our new objective."
"Sir, General Zondag is on the Holo-Communicator!" Kursaal interrupted, shaking with fear, "I warned you of this!"
Zargon, unlike his comrade, was as unshaken as ever. Yes, this was a wrench in their perfect plan, but Zargon had strong faith that the general would trust their little proposal.
"Patch him through," said Zargon. "I know he'll be pleased with this new direction."
Kursaal swallowed his reluctance, then typed a command at his computer. A metallic hum echoed around them as the holographic image of the great General Zondag was phased in on a raised platform in front of Zargon. It was merely a silhouette filled with purple and blue static at first, but over the next few seconds, the static morphed and distorted until Zondag stood on the platter, fully formed, as if he were actually standing among them.
His stance was one that commanded unyielding devotion and submission, an air complemented by his horned helmet and flowing robes, all in black, and his glowing blue eyes, completely stoic. Everyone knelt at the arrival of their general.
"There is no need to explain yourself, Captain Zargon. I have heard every word." Zondag's baritone voice sent a nervous chill through every bone in the room as they all bowed their heads.
Zargon's confidence suddenly fled as he looked for any indication in Zondag's face that he and his squadron were not about to be disintegrated. All it would take was a few simple words from the general, and the ship would be blasted into oblivion, its remains destined to drift forever in the void.
"I, like yourself, see a great deal of potential in this Earthling you have happened upon. Zoster has informed me that he and his colleagues are nearing completion of the Trauma project. All they would need to realize their plans for the perfect Evronian soldier is the magnitude of energy that I see resides in this little girl. Since you two made the discovery, you shall personally oversee the capture of this... one called Gosalyn."
"By any means necessary, General," Zargon promised, "your wishes shall be fulfilled."
"For the sake of your pitiful lives, I hope you do. Might and power!"
"Might and power to you, General," recited each voice in adoration. Zondag crossed his muscular arms and smirked to his loyal soldiers before static enveloped and deformed his image, crushing it into a ball that shrunk until it was gone from sight. All the tension on deck was released with the general's exit.
Zargon stood up and shouted, "You heard our great general! This Earth child must be captured immediately! Myself, Kursaal, and three others shall venture to Earth to carry out the attack. Everyone else shall monitor the tracker and update us with pertinent information. As soon as the Earth night begins, we strike. Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir!" everyone bellowed, bowing their heads.
"Very well. Carry on," said Zargon, before walking once again to the elevator to retire to his quarters.
"Sir?" said Kursaal, following after Zargon. "What about the two Earthlings that were with the girl? They may try to protect her."
Zargon turned to his first-mate as the elevator doors swept open, "You're right, Kursaal. She must be alone to simplify her capture. Therefore, her companions must be destroyed." Zargon replied, his beak curling upwards.
The hostile snarl in his voice made one thing clear as the doors removed the deck from his sight: Zargon would personally see that they would not return empty-handed this time.
The sun was setting into the Audubon Bay when Donald arrived back at Ducklair Tower. He parked the 313-X in the employee section of the garage (one of the few privileges of working as caretaker of the tower under his Uncle Scrooge) and hopped out. He made sure to grab his bag of leftover potato salad and baked beans and whistled his way to the elevator. He entered and pressed a particular green button that was hidden behind the keylock.
"Honey, I'm home," he said into the speaker on the panel of buttons.
"Welcome, old bean!" came One's reply through the intercom, and the elevator shot upwards at breakneck speed. It was only seconds before the elevator halted again, leaving Donald visibly disoriented. The doors unfurled, and Donald stumbled out, feeling sick to his stomach.
One shook his head inside his globe. "The Duck Avenger shaken by an undemanding hydraulic transport apparatus?!"
Donald shook the dizziness away and stuck out his tongue at One. "Can the sass, smart-alec, and take this to the fridge."
A container connected to a large tube rose from under the floor next to Donald. He shoved his bag of leftovers inside the container, which sunk back beneath the floor, to be whisked away to the kitchen nearby. Donald plopped himself into an armchair near the window, and gladly sunk into its plump cushioning.
"Chamomile tea?" asked One.
Donald nodded, and a platter wheeled its way over to the stretching duck, containing a mug of steaming tea, already steeped to perfection. Donald simply added sugar to his taste and proceeded to kick back and relax.
"So, Mr. Single Dad, did you enjoy your meeting today?"
"You bet," Donald replied, taking a sip of the soothing liquid, "Seeing the guys was exactly what I needed this week, especially Drake."
"Why Drake? That Mr. Goof seems like an infinitely more fascinating fellow."
"That's an understatement," Donald remarked. "But Drake… Poor guy is so in over his head all the time. I can't help but stick by him to make sure he doesn't blow something up."
"That incompetent, eh?"
Donald choked on his gulp. He swallowed it quickly and faced One. "Come on, give him a bit more credit than that." He placed the tea back on the platter and stood up on the chair. "If you were a brand-new father and had a rambunctious daughter getting into trouble all the time, wouldn't you feel a bit overwhelmed?"
One raised his eyebrow at Donald. "I don't think I'm the kind of being that could answer that question, if it wasn't already obvious."
Donald scoffed, walking towards One. "The point is, I feel for the guy. I want to do my part to make sure he doesn't screw this up, especially since he took her in only a day after they met."
One's went bug-eyed. "A day?! I may not be a biological, but that hardly feels like adequate time."
"That's what I said," Donald concurred, "but when I visited to show him how to pay his bills, I could tell just by looking that they were made for each other. It had only been a week and they were thick as thieves. She was even calling him Dad."
Donald pulled out his phone and searched through his images. "Wanna see what they look like?"
"Very well," said One.
Donald found the photo he was looking for and held it close to One's globe, so the computer could pick it up with his visual scanners. The virtual instruments meticulously analyzed the structure of both Gosalyn and Drake's faces and saved the data to his memory banks. He also looked up their records on the internet and added that data to their newly-created files as well.
"Drake Mallard," One pronounced slowly, "What an eccentric individual."
"Playing spy again, huh, One?" Donald poked.
"A necessary protocol, hero. You were even subjected to it when you first dropped in."
As One sifted through the data, studying what was gathered, his emotional subsets processed an opinion of the picture in the appropriate context and sent the reply to One's speech generator. "They definitely look like father and daughter," he smiled.
"Don't they?" Donald said, returning the grin, "Like two peas in a pod, or ham and cheese on a-"
"One second, hero," One interrupted. His internet search had happened upon an important correlation.
"What's the big idea?" Donald asked, tapping his foot at being so rudely cut off. One's concentration reverted to Donald after a moment, and his annoyance faded. "I know that look," he said, seeing the revelation across his partner's beak.
"Donald, does your friend know about your secret life?"
"What? O-of course not," Donald said, unsure of why One was asking him this. "He's just a stay-at-home, dad. There's no way he'd know about Duck Avenger."
One hummed to himself before saying, "I'm sorry I cut you off previously, but my logic circuits have uncovered something while creating Mr. Mallard's file. It seems the job title 'stay-at-home dad' may not be entirely appropriate."
A monitor sprung out from the floor, surprising Donald. It displayed a particular front page with the headline, "St. Canard Explosion Wipes Out Bulba".
"This front-page article of the Duckburg Times covers an explosion that occurred on top of St. Canard Tower a month ago. The incident involved Taurus Bulba, noted kingpin criminal, and Darkwing Duck, a local vigilante trying to arrest Bulba. Does the face ring a bell?"
On the side of the page was a vanity shot of Darkwing. Donald stared at Darkwing's gallant pose, which was no doubt provided to the newspaper by the egomaniacal duck.
"Well, of course, I've heard of Darkwing Duck! Channel 00 talks about him some...times…"
The more Donald studied those fluffy cheeks, the oversized bill, and the familiar eyes surrounded by a violet mask, the wider his own became. He was connecting the dots as well.
A thousand thoughts ran through his mind. Drake knew about the Evronians. They nearly ran him and his family over last night. His insatiable desire for fame would surely drive him to pursue them, and Donald knew from experience that a battle of that nature couldn't be won by just any weirdo in a costume.
Drake, and by extension Gosalyn, was in grave danger.
One saw Donald drop his phone in shock. It clattered to the ground, bouncing against the tile.
"Are you alright, hero?" One hoped he hadn't just overloaded his poor friend's receptors.
There were a thousand things Donald wanted to say, how One was right on the money, how Drake was about to sign his death sentence, how Duck Avenger needed to stop all this right now.
But the only words that escaped his beak were, "D-D-Drake...is DARKWING DUCK?!"
AUTHOR'S NOTE: What a way to find out about your friend's secret identity. Next time, Darkwing Duck gets On the Case! See you then!