AN: 06/11/2015- YAY! Update! Thank you guys so much for your patience with me while I worked on this story. I had some major issues to work out. Things seem to have cleared up for the time being; so, you get story!
"Hey!" Canard smiled broadly and dropped to one knee, arms held wide to capture the running duckling. The little one's downy, yellow and brown feathers stuck out every which way. "When did you start walking?" Snatching the giggling child from the floor, he started tickling his bare belly and gibbering at him.
"Welcome back," Loria followed her son from the kitchen. "I told you you shouldn't be gone so long," she admonished lightly. She caught a strand of her long, brown hair that had come loose from her ponytail and tried tucking it back into place. Giving up, she let her hair down and regathered it to redo the ponytail.
"Sorry." Canard shifted the still laughing child so he could give her a one armed hug. "Took longer than I thought. Ran into some trouble in Akinistan."
"Come on, dinner's almost ready. You can set the table." She shuffled back towards the kitchen. "That trouble wouldn't have anything to do with looking for Wildwing, would it?"
"Um…" He looked down at Little Deke and smiled. The duckling sighed happily and laid his head on Canard's shoulder. "Do most ducklings start walking at six months?"
"Six? I've been chasing this little monster around the base for the past three weeks!"
"Five months?" Canard's eyes widened in surprise. "He's going to be a real demon on the ice."
"He's already balancing pretty well on skates."
"I missed that too?" Regret for how long his mission had taken began to tarnish the joy of finding the Mask. Shoving it aside, he tried to juggle the now calm baby and retrieving plates from the cupboard. Somehow, when there was a duckling involved, everything took three times longer than it should.
"Most ducklings start walking around six or seven months; so, yes, he is a little early."
"Hear that, Deke?" Canard bounced the child to readjust his hold on him as he set out the forks. "You shouldn't be walking yet. You just couldn't wait for me to get back before trying to walk out of here on your own, could you?"
Loria returned from the kitchen with a steaming pan of lasagna. Setting it on the hot pad in the center of the table, she sighed and went back for the salad.
"You're getting him tonight," her exhausted voice floated from around the corner. "I need sleep."
Canard snorted in semi-derision. "Pato's going to love that." He and Lt. Pato shared quarters. Ever since Deke had hatched, Canard split his time between Loria's apartment and the barracks. Truth be told, he far preferred the apartment, even if he did have to sleep on the couch. Not only was it quieter and more spacious, it smelled a good deal better. Besides, the old, lumpy couch was paradise compared to sleeping on the ground.
"I don't care. You've been gone for two months, and I've had to deal with Deke all by myself. Oh, sure, he's quiet now. You didn't have to listen to him screaming for the first two weeks you were gone." She shoved the salad bowl onto the table with more force than necessary. "You're not leaving for that long again." Her tone allowed no room for argument.
"I don't have a choice about what missions I get." He'd be damned if she was going to push him around. It was bad enough that he had to constantly take orders from half the resistance. Joining the military had never been on his list of life goals. Come to think of it, neither had raising a child, especially one that wasn't even his.
Little Deke started whimpering, his high-pitched peeping bordering on crying.
Loria held up a hand to stop the brewing argument. "Not now. I really don't have the energy for this."
"Hmph." Canard let it drop and moved the high chair from the corner to his spot at the table. After making sure the squirming and fussing baby was strapped in, he started dishing out his own meal.
An undulating wail signaling the end of the world refused to let Canard begin his meal. He glared at the crying duckling, a forkful of spinach lasagna halfway to his mouth.
"Mm-hmm." Loria smiled smugly and nodded to herself. "Yeah. That's what I had to deal with."
Little Deke's cries reached a new, unfathomably high pitch as he stretched towards Canard. His face wrinkled up tightly as tears flowed down his tiny beak.
"His food's on the counter."
"Come on, cry baby." Canard abandoned his meal and pulled Little Deke from the high chair. Blessed silence returned the moment he picked him up. "Oh, so that's how it is?" he lightly admonished. "You're not going to let me eat, are you? You do know this is the first real food I've had in a long time. Tomorrow, I have to go back to eating that crap they try to pass off as food in the mess hall. But even that's better than those freeze dried, bag nasties." He kept a running dialog as they retrieved the baby food from the kitchen and returned.
"I can't believe he's being so quiet," Loria marveled as she slowly ate.
Canard shrugged and tried to put Deke back in the high chair. The screams began an instant after he let go. Relenting, Canard moved the child to his lap. Somehow, he managed to feed himself and Deke at the same time.
"So," he made another attempt at polite conversation, "Anything interesting happen while I was gone?"
"Ducks came in injured; I fixed them or they died. Same thing that happens in the infirmary every day."
"Anyone I should know about?"
"If you're asking about Wildwing, no. I would have told you right away if someone had brought him in, even if it is against regulation."
Great Mother! Did she always have to jump to conclusions about what he thought or was asking? "Thanks," he mumbled.
"Speaking of, you didn't answer my question earlier. Was that trouble you ran into because of Wildwing?"
"Sort of. I found two more slave camps. He wasn't in either of them; but, I did bring in a new recruit. You'll probably be seeing him tomorrow."
"I doubt it." She took a drink of water. "Laysan will most likely take care of him."
"She was in Processing when we came in."
"She's training for a transfer to medical staff. Part of that is evaluating new recruits. Honestly, I'm surprised Garganey authorized a new recruit. She's been sending everyone straight to Wesande ever since the last water purifier started malfunctioning."
"Another one?"
"Yeah. We're down to two. I don't know why those techs don't just fix them."
Canard moved another small biscuit within Deke's reach so the duckling could grab it. "I wish they'd have let me know before I left. I could have searched for whatever part they need."
"Your feathers are a mess." She frowned as she studied him. "Where did you go, anyway?"
"Sorry," he shook his head and focused on his food. "Classified."
"Hm. Some of the soldiers said you went looking for the Mask. I told them that was ridiculous."
"I can neither confirm nor deny what it was I was doing," Canard laughed. "But, I did bring this little guy something."
"At least you gave him a passing thought while you abandoned us."
"I didn't abandon you!" he snapped, his voice much louder than he'd intended. Deke started crying again. Growling lowly in frustration, he started bouncing his knee, trying to distract him. "Garganey gave me a mission and I had to go."
"Fine." She leveled a hard stare at him. "Next time, tell her you have other responsibilities and can't be gone for more than forty-eight hours."
Why had he decided to come here again? He'd forgotten just how obnoxious she could be. Just because she was eight years older, didn't give her the right to boss him around.
"I'll do whatever it takes to get rid of the saurians," he swore. "Even if it means I have to give my life."
"Oh, and what about Deke? Do you know what happens to ducklings when one of their imprints leaves them?"
Canard narrowed his eyes, desperately trying to contain his anger. "I know exactly what that does to a kid. My dad abandoned me when I was two, remember? I'm not going to do that to him if I can help it. But, there's no future for Deke or anyone else if the saurians stay in control."
"Hmph," Loria snorted in derision. "You're not Drake DuCaine; you don't have to save Anaska all by yourself. There are other soldiers, you know."
"Whatever." Rubbing his eyes, he took a deep breath and bowed his head. All he wanted was a meal and some sleep.
They finished their meal in silence. Canard continued to fuss over Little Deke, paying more attention to him than Loria.
"Great Mother," Loria cursed, exasperated as she stared at the remains of what had once been a large pan of lasagna. "Do you think you could finish this off tonight?"
"I could try," Canard smirked.
"This was supposed to last for the next three days!" She glared at the small bit left. "This is barely enough for my lunch tomorrow."
"Sorry," he shrugged. "You're a good cook. It's not like I could stop by the grocery and pick up supplies while I was out there."
"Fine." She shook her head and took the dirty dishes to the kitchen. "You're going to share your next farming ration with us."
"No duh." Of course he would! Did she really have to insinuate that he'd hoard the fresh vegetables for himself?
"Don't get that attitude with me," she warned.
"Ma'am, yes ma'am!"
She threw a dirty look his way. "He needs a bath."
"Oh, is someone a dirty duckling?" Canard laughed and held Little Deke over his head. "No… You're not dirty. You're just naughty." He swung the child around, gaining raucous laughter and giggles. He stopped and held the fluffy duckling close.
Little Deke whined and stretched his arms wide, begging for more. Canard was more than happy to oblige and began spinning them in circles, stopping to change direction, and wildly dancing around the room.
Loria crossed her arms and stood next to the couch, watching them, with a small smile. Honestly, it was hard to tell who was having more fun, Canard or Little Deke. Hiding a laugh, she clapped once. "Come on you two, bath time."
"I got him," Canard volunteered. "You go read or whatever."
"Thank you." She stepped closer to them and lay a hand on her son's back before lightly tapping her forehead to his head. "Canard?"
"Yeah?"
"You might want to take care of your own feathers while you're at it." She smiled up at him and roughly brushed the back of his neck. "You look like a used up scrub brush."
"Gee, thanks," he deadpanned with a shrug.
"I'll preen your back when you two are done."
"Thank you." This time, he was much more sincere. Even though he could take care of it himself, just laying down and letting someone else massage the much-needed oil into the feathers covering his back would be a welcome relief. "Pato was going to do it, but you do a better job."
"I somehow doubt you'll be going back to the barracks tonight."
"You're probably right." He glanced down as Little Deke shrieked with joy and started wiggling around, trying to encourage more play. "And you, you little stinker, need a bath."
0000
"This," Canard held up a stuffed animal, "is a bourica." He moved it back and forth, making it dance for Little Deke.
The plush, brown toy resembled the bourica that roamed wild through the mountains more than their tamer counterparts some ducks liked to ride. Simplified, velvet antlers angled across the back while thicker, black fur created the neck ruff. Four broad, gray hooves were made out of plastic. Scratches from wear, and possibly the previous owner's love, covered the glass eyes.
Little Deke made a happy noise and reached for the toy. Canard teased him, making it gallop through the air around the duckling's head before letting him catch it.
"Wildwing and I rescued a bourica calf once." He spoke to the duckling while getting dressed for the day and gathering his things. Now that he was back in the base and had the Mask in his possession, it was time to figure out the next step. "We were hiking at Crystal Lake and heard this strange noise." He trumpeted in imitation of a distressed animal, which caused Little Deke to laugh so hard he could barely breathe. Canard kept making the strange noise while trying not to laugh himself.
"What's going on in here?" Loria came out from her bedroom. Her curly, brown hair had been tied back in a tidy bun, not a single hair allowed to escape. She had dressed in the fatigues of a field medic, leaving only the military insignia on her shoulder to show her rank. Anyone entering the infirmary could easily mistake her for any doctor and not the head of the hospital.
"Nothing." Canard quieted, his mirth vanishing with her appearance.
"Sounded like fun." She smiled and continued on to the kitchen. "Coffee?"
"Please."
Little Deke shrieked in an attempt to get Canard to make the noise again. He waved the stuffed bourica around, holding it tightly by the neck.
Instead of giving in to the temptation to start goofing off, he picked up the baby and settled him on his hip while he continued to search for Little Deke's things. When the duckling stuck the antlers in his mouth and started sucking on them, Canard snorted and let him. At least he was being quiet.
"What's this about rescuing a baby bourica?" Loria asked as she returned with two cups of coffee. One was handed over to Canard. She took over gathering the diapers, food, and change of clothing for her son while Canard kept him occupied.
"You heard that?" He hadn't thought she'd been listening. "We were hiking and found where a calf fell down a gully. Dad, uh, Mr. Flashblade is a fire marshal and always made sure we took rescue gear when hiking." He smiled and dropped his voice to imitate some fatherly advice. "You never know when you're going to have an accident or be called on to help someone else. Always be prepared. Better to carry the extra gear than die in a crevasse because you couldn't get yourself out."
"Sounds like good advice."
"Yeah. So, we had ropes with us. Wildwing tied a harness around it and I helped haul them up. It was pretty cool, actually."
"Don't let him do that." She reached over and pulled the antlers from Little Deke's mouth. "Yalda knows where that's been."
He rolled his eyes and said nothing. It wasn't worth the argument.
"I'll be back a little after eighteen hundred hours. You can watch him until then." She held out the bag containing Little Deke's things expectantly.
"What? No!" He refused to take the bag. "I can't. I'm meeting with Talarico in the archive. He's not allowed in there."
"Tough." The bag swung as she moved her hand to emphasize that he should take it.
"What'd you do when I was gone? Can't you do that?"
"No, I can't." She dropped the bag at his feet. "The carrier's on a hook by the front door." She double checked the communicator on her wrist. "I'm going to be late. You can bring him back at eighteen hundred. If there's an emergency, call me." The chestnut feathered doctor opened the front door and paused before leaving. "You're his surrogate and you've been gone for almost two months. Stop shirking your responsibilities and look after him today." The door closed behind her, leaving him no other option.
"Pigeon," he muttered in disgust. He glanced down at Little Deke, not caring that the antlers had returned to the duckling's curious beak. "Looks like it's just you and me today."
0000
Canard shifted the slumbering weight on his shoulders to a more comfortable position as he continued his journey towards the archives. He'd decided to try entering the archives with Little Deke. Everyone was shorthanded and exceptions had to be made. He just hoped Talarico would agree.
Not long after Loria left for the infirmary, he had found the colorful podegi and tied the duckling to his upper back. Little Deke had fallen asleep at some point during the four kilm walk from the medical staff's quarters to the archives. His left shoulder ached from the uneven weight of carrying Deke's things in a bag slung across his torso.
Finally reaching his destination, Canard held his wrist com up to the door and stepped through when it slid open. The archives contained a wealth of Anaska's literary, musical, artistic, and photographic history. Documents and photos dating further back than the First Saurian Invasion were stored in carefully cataloged boxes. Vanadium's location deep underground provided natural humidity and temperature control, making it the perfect place to store such artifacts. Fortunately, this archive had been created over a hundred years ago. Everything from hockey legend Halin Kozyra's goal stick to the latest pop song by Tabitha Rasa was kept down here.
"Canard!" the elderly, trim figure behind the desk greeted. Talarico, a gray drake somewhere in his sixties, managed the archives almost single-handedly since the invasion. Thin, wire-rimmed spectacles perched on his beak and his short, graying hair was neatly slicked back. "It's so wonderful to see our scholar returned." He smiled warmly at the drake he'd spent quite a bit of time helping dig through old manuscripts and letters. "I hope your hunt was successful?"
"I'm back," he replied noncommittally as he held out an arm.
Talarico reached out and clasped the taller duck's forearm in greeting before pulling him closer and giving him a quick hug. "Oh," he dropped his voice to a whisper as he noticed the downy duckling. "He's getting big."
"Yeah," Canard nodded and began heading towards the doorway that lead out of the office area and into the archive itself. "Weighs almost as much as my pack."
"You exaggerate."
"A little."
"Are you planning on continuing your research today?" Talarico frowned as he eyed Little Deke. "Or, are you just stopping by to let me know you're back?"
"I was hoping to pick up where I'd left off. We have to figure out how Drake DuCaine banished the Saurians."
"And your offspring? Who will be tending the duckling while you probe the quondam documents?"
"Quo-what?" Sometimes, he hated Talarico's vocabulary. "Me. I'm watching him."
"Quondam— belonging to some prior time. And, I simply cannot allow that. He is much too young to be allowed amongst the antiquity of Anaska."
"Can you watch him?"
"And who would find the books and artifacts you need? No, absolutely not."
Canard growled under his breath. Loria's refusal to watch her own child could very well keep him from figuring out the solution to the planet's problems. He crossed his arms and tried to stare down the older drake.
Talarico met his gaze with aplomb.
Realizing he wouldn't be able to intimidate the old drake, he changed tactics.
"I'll let you see it."
"It?" He raised an eyebrow. "So, you were successful?"
Canard patted the satchel on his hip and smiled. "Only if you let us in."
"You irascible larrikin." He studied the sleeping baby tied to Canard's back and scratched at his lower chin, deep in thought. "I suppose, if we had some sort of pen to keep him in. Perhaps some sort of volery."
"Huh?"
"A pen or crib." Talarico waved off his confusion. "Fine." He nodded, eager to see the great artifact. "I shall cogitate an enclosure. Your table, however, has been cleared off."
"What!" Canard stared aghast. "But, I needed those books—"
"Calm down," Talarico soothed. "I kept a list of everything you had and which pages were marked." He led them through the second set of doors separating the entry office from the archive itself. Before continuing further, he stared pointedly at the satchel.
Canard retrieved the Mask and handed it over. He was prepared to fight to get it back if needed; although, he doubted the old drake could outrun him, much less best him in hand-to-hand combat.
"This is amazing!" Talarico held it up to the light, his dusty, gray hands contrasting sharply against the pure white of the goalie mask. He turned it over slowly, inspecting every angle. "Have you tried to use it? How does it turn on? Is it active now? Where did you find it? You must tell me every detail of your mission!"
Canard couldn't help but laugh at the enthusiasm. He might as well have just told Wildwing they had both been given first-line positions for the Shindy Nur's.
"I'll write it all down," he promised. "But, I can't show anyone the report unless Garganey declassifies it. You'll be the first I bring it to."
"Good enough." He handed the Mask back. "May I inspect it again at a later time? Perhaps take some notes?"
"Maybe." He really shouldn't have let Talarico even know that he had it, not after that mess with the traitors that nearly wiped out the Resistance.
"I understand your reluctance. Come, let us continue our research." He resumed their path towards the work station Canard had abandoned for his mission.
Cavernous didn't begin to cover the size of the underground storage facility. Rows upon rows of metal shelves more than three times Canard's height stretched out of sight in either direction. They turned to the right as they entered, passing multitudes of carefully preserved artifacts. After several minutes, they finally reached the sector containing printed materials.
Canard left Talarico and found the small work area in the center of the stacks. He pulled out an uncomfortable, wooden chair and flipped it around to sit on it backwards. He glanced over his shoulder to check on Little Deke and was relieved to find him still sleeping. The longer he stayed that way, the better. His left shoulder, however, had begun to go numb from the weight of the bag holding Deke's diapers, food, toys, blanket, and change of clothes. Silently loosening the clasps that held the bag to the strap slung across his torso, he removed the burden and settled down.
"Here we go," Talarico cheerfully announced as he returned with two ancient books. "These should get you started while I track down the rest."
"Thanks." Canard eagerly took the books and cracked the first one open, being careful not to damage the centuries old binding. Heaving a sigh, he once again searched the past for a solution to the current lizard infestation.
0000
Some time on the ice and a few pick up games were just what Canard needed after a day full of study and babysitting. Little Deke had been surprisingly well behaved while they were in the archives, only growing fussy when he was hungry or wanted attention. He'd dropped the duckling off with his mother and made a beeline for the underground arena as soon as he could.
Drakes and ducks filled the locker room, all eager for some time engaging in their national pastime. Equipment couldn't be reserved, although some did their best to hide their favorite skates or pads. Those lucky enough to have saved their own gear from before the invasion or collected it from the rubble had to take it with them or risk loosing it to the communal pile. Sticks were in short supply and nobody was allowed to customize them to their personal preferences. Even those who had brought in their own sticks had eventually resorted to using the Resistance's equipment once theirs broke in play.
Giving his laces one last check, Canard stood and found his helmet and stick. While the skates and chest protector were his, everything else was scavenged. The borrowed hockey equipment barely fit, but it was better than trying to play defense without it.
"Hey," a muscular, tan duck shouted, "These shin guards are too small. Anyone got some bigger?" She held the gear up in hopes that someone would trade.
"Go fish," came the smart reply from a short, dark haired duck. She smiled brightly and held out her own shin guards. "Got any bicep protectors in a five?" Ailyssa traded the shin guards, despite her pretended refusal.
"This is ridiculous," Canard muttered. "We're on a frozen planet, in the middle of a hockey loving civilization. Why isn't there enough gear to go around?" He tightened the laces on his skates, thankful that he'd been able to find the right size on one of his missions. There was nothing worse than playing a full game in ill fitting skates.
"Keep complaining, bookworm," the dark haired duck bantered. "Won't matter tomorrow."
"Huh? Why?"
"Because," Shin guards trader butted in, "Garganey's shutting down the arenas tonight. No more ice."
"What! No way." He laughed, refusing to believe the soldier. "There's no way in Araka's Ovens that she'd ban hockey. Impossible."
"S'true," Ailyssa agreed, tossing the too-small bicep protectors aside. "Purifiers' running too hot. Couple more weeks, bam!" She hit a fist into her palm, "One left. Last one goes, we go with it. Game over, saurians win."
"Always looking on the bright side, aren't you?" the first tan duck teased. "Give the tech's time; they'll get it sorted. In the meantime, we enjoy this last skate and get on with taking down those damned lizards."
"Easy? No," Ailyssa threw a roll of tape at the tan duck. "Chill, Ewing!" With that, she pulled on a jersey, grabbed any random stick from the rack by the locker room door, and headed out to the ice.
"Are you serious?" Canard couldn't believe it. No way they'd be forced to endure the invasion without hockey.
"It's not like the slaves can play hockey," Ewing retorted. "We've already cut the amount of water used for the green houses, which means less food. If those tech's don't get off their lazy tailfeathers and get the blasted things fixed, the saurians are going to win by default. Sucks, but there it is."
"Not if I have anything to say about it," he growled.
"Sure, scholar. Go throw a book at Dragaunus. See if you can kill him with words. Me? I'd rather use a gun any day. Or my bare hands. Anything, as long as we get those fucking scalies off the planet." She grabbed a helmet and forcefully shoved it on Canard's head on her way out. "See you on the ice."
Shaking his head, Canard adjusted the helmet. It was actually the right size. No way was he going to let someone else snag it before he was finished dressing. He buckled the strap and started tracking down a jersey.
0000
"What's this I hear about Gargany shutting down the rinks?" Canard burst into his shared quarters and stood over Lt. Pato, arms crossed.
"Nice to see you too, recruit," the tan drake joked. "At ease," he smiled up at the younger duck. "Come on," he encouraged again when Canard didn't move. "I don't like talking to you when you're towering over me like that."
Rolling his eyes, Canard moved to his bunk and sat.
Lt. Pato leaned back, one elbow resting on his desk. "I think you already heard we're down to two water purifiers. Problem is, we don't have the parts to fix the broken ones and the two we do have are already operating at capacity. We've done everything possible to make them stretch. I've spoken to Garganey and am putting together a group to go find new parts or maybe a complete replacement."
"Wow," Canard ran a hand through his hair. "So, it's bad. Huh?"
"Pretty much. Can't even melt snow, thanks to all the pollution from the factories the Saurians have started up. At least the ground water is still fairly safe."
"When do we leave?"
"What do you mean, we?"
"If you're going out there, I'm going too. You, me, Ailyssa, and… Who else?"
"I didn't say I was taking Ailyssa."
"Hah!" Canard almost choked on his laugh. "Right. And you don't have a thing for her."
"Which is why she's not coming."
"She's a damned good soldier."
"True."
"Fine shot."
"Uh-huh."
"Great team tech."
"Yeah."
"Pretty good in the sack."
"Yea— What! No."
Canard smirked. "Thought so. Okay, no Ailyssa. Who else? Ewing? She's obnoxious, but I can deal. At least she's strong."
"Ya'la, no. I'm not working with Ewing again; not after that incident in Cholistak. I don't care if she's the last duck in the Resistance; she can't take orders. Raki?"
"Hm. He'd be good for keeping our vehicles up and running. Not so sure he's willing to leave base, though."
"What we really need is one of the techs. Someone who knows what we're looking for."
"What about that blond tech?" Canard suggested. "The one with hair that looks like a hay stack?"
"I dunno… Haven't worked with her. I thought she was one of the medics anyway."
"Damn. We'll need a medic." Canard sighed and began removing his boots. "Guess that means Laysan, huh?"
"Thought she was in processing."
"Loria told me she's been training for a transfer. This sounds like a good field mission to break her in."
"Okay," Lt. Pato nodded. "You, me, Laysan. I'll talk to the techs tonight at mess. Hopefully they'll have someone they can spare."
"Right." Canard yawned. "And I," he stretched and yawned again, "Am going to take a nap."
"Heh. Enjoy your stay with Loria last night?" He smiled knowingly.
"Hardly. I had Little Deke. Kid's a regular ice-melter. I was so hot I couldn't get any sleep. And I was worried about rolling over and crushing him, so he pretty much stayed on my chest all night." Every time he'd almost fallen asleep, Little Deke would move and he'd jerk wide awake, afraid that he'd disturbed the duckling. At least Little Deke had slept through the night; that was something else new since he'd been gone.
"Little Deke?"
"Yeah. Thought you'd have heard by now. I rescued a guy named Deke and brought him in yesterday. Laysan decided he's Big Deke and my guy is Little Deke." He pulled off his boots and set them next to his bed as he lay down. "Guess it's already stuck in my head."
"Cute." Lt. Pato smiled. "I'll get you up in twenty."
"What? Why?"
"Unless you want to miss dinner. I'll take your rations if you don't want them."
"Fuck, no. Feathers off my food, Pato."
"Whatever, Thunderbeak. I'm just glad I don't have to deal with a high school cafeteria full of hormonal teenagers trying to start food fights anymore."
"No." He yawned, "Now you have to deal with a military mess full of angry soldiers trying to start food fights."
"At least Nosedive's not involved," Lt. Pato laughed at the memories. There had been one food fight in particular the blond youth had started that he would never forget. He'd never figured out exactly how the younger Flashblade had managed to get ketchup all the way to the ceiling and spell School Sucks. That took a special kind of talent.
"Kind of wish he was," Canard mumbled. He threw one arm over his eyes and quickly fell asleep.
End AN: A pigeon, in hockey lingo, is an insult meaning someone who's not good enough to score their own goals and must rely on the rest of their team for any points.
As I have mentioned before, I love words and have an extensive vocabulary. I'm allowing that out with Talarico. He's based off one of my favorite teachers ever. Mr. Merchant actually spoke like this! Here are definitions of some words you may not know:
Aplomb- Assurance of manner or of action; self-possession.
Irascible- provoking to anger
Larrikin- a mischievous young person, an uncultivated, rowdy but good hearted person
Volery- a large bird cage, an aviary
Cogitate- to engage in continuous thought, to think