To battle! And there shall be our victory, or our defeat. We go 
forth with our hearts and minds fixed on one thought: to 
strike a blow against our oppressors for the freedom of our 
people. For the sake of our families; wives and husbands, sons 
and daughters, brothers and sisters - for all those who claim a 
place in our hearts - for them let us not fail.
		-Drake Ducaine
		Spoken on the Eve of the First Strike




For Them



Canard shut the ancient text with an abrupt snap and a heavy 
scowl., Drake Ducaine's words still ringing in his mind. That 
was not what he needed right now.

The books General McMallard had gifted Canard with had 
become both a resource and an escape for the young man 
during the months since he'd taken over the task of 
organizing the first strike against Dragaunus' stronghold. The 
wealth of information contained in the centuries old books 
could, and undoubtedly would, be the deciding factor in many 
ways when they finally faced Dragaunus head on. Over the 
millennia since the last time the Saurians had appeared in the 
skies of Puckworld, all the information about them had been 
lost, slipping into myth and legend, becoming forgotten for 
the most part, disbelieved for the rest. There was so much 
information to be learned, and so little time to learn it in. 
There were entire teams dedicated to nothing more than 
translating the ancient texts and learning what they had to 
tell.

Beyond that though, Canard had taken to reading the texts 
when he needed a distraction, an escape. The real world was, 
at best, an unpleasant place, and there were times when he 
wanted nothing so much as to forget for a little while, to take 
his mind off the problems of the day and lose himself in the 
past. It was a method that had never failed.

Until now, at least.

Reading passage after passage about going into battle was not 
the best way to distract himself from the fact that in less than 
a day, he too would be going into battle. It was a reminder he 
did not need, and did not want.

He set the text aside, reminding himself that he'd need to put 
it away in the chest later. A glance at the clock confirmed it 
was nearly meal time. The prospect of eating held little 
appeal, especially since it was Sata's turn on KP duty and 
food poisoning was low on his list of favorite things, but now 
was not a time to risk being at less than his best. Odds were 
good that they would not eat at all tomorrow, and he couldn't 
afford to be suffering from hunger or lack of energy when the 
battle began. He'd suffer through Sata's idea of food, even if it 
killed him.

'On the bright side', he thought cheerfully, 'that would solve 
my worries about tomorrow's outcome.'

He rose from his desk, ignoring the state of disarray it was 
currently suffering, and crossed the small room to the door. 
He carefully locked it behind him, paranoia as strong now as 
it had been when he'd first arrived. The idea that one of the 
two dozen specially chosen and trained - 'Well, mostly 
trained,' he amended with a slight grin and a fond thought - 
personnel he had gathered around him was a collaborator was 
a distasteful one, but chances weren't to be taken. There were 
exactly three people in this place he was willing to trust with 
the safety of this mission, and one of them was himself. The 
others... well, tomorrow would tell if he had been justified in 
choosing them. 

The hall was abandoned, not uncommon considering the size 
of the facility, the small number of people stationed there and 
the fact that it was mealtime. Most everyone should be in the 
cafeteria by now.

He was right. The doors slid open before him and he was 
greeted by the pervading warmth that always seemed to fill 
this room, the delicious aroma of what seemed to be *katroia*
stew and the soft murmur of several quiet conversations being 
carried on at once. Several heads rose at his arrival; quick 
nods of recognition or greeting before turning away to 
continue their conversations. From the far side of the room, 
Wildwing offered him a slight smile and gestured for him to 
join them. Canard nodded back and headed for the serving 
line. Sata handed him a plate, made a token effort at small 
talk, then excused herself to begin clean-up. He made his way 
through the assortment of food quickly - a bowl of stew, some 
bread, water and, stars above, actual *inre* juice. Canard 
wondered briefly who the resistance had had to kill to get 
their hands on *that* - a rarity in this part of the world even 
before the war - before deciding he didn't really care. He 
carried the tray across the room and slid into the empty chair 
across from Wildwing. "Hey, guys," he greeted warmly. 
"Anyone dead yet?"

The teasing reference to the food had its desired effect, 
drawing a slight smile from the boy at Wildwing's side. 
"Nah," Nosedive said off-handedly. "Sata must've been taking 
cooking courses behind our backs."

Canard snorted. "Give her time," he said, deliberately raising 
his voice. "Just because it hasn't killed anyone *yet-*"

"You're more than welcome to cook yourself, Canard!" Sata 
hollered back in good-natured retort. "But I doubt even the 
Saurians would find that a pleasant meal!"

Canard shook his head and heaved a mighty sigh. "I don't 
know why you insist on this charade, Sata. The whole 
resistance can tell you adore me."

"Only the blind ones!"

"She loves me," Canard said primly, "but we both know that 
can't be allowed to interfere."

"I can see that," Wildwing retorted. "Why, if she let her true 
feelings for you show, we'd have to find a new leader."

Nosedive was grinning now, a little further and he might 
almost laugh, but that was a miracle to be worked later. For 
now Canard was happy just to see the smile and to see some 
of the shadows fade away from the boy's eyes. "Seriously, is 
this going to hurt?" he asked, gesturing to their two half-filled 
bowls.

"It's fine," Wildwing assured him. "Just not used to it 
anymore."

Canard let it drop at that, hearing what Wildwing wasn't 
quite saying - that it wasn't the stew they were unused to, it 
was food in general. Duke had been much the same way when 
Canard had first helped him escape the work camp he'd been 
held in. For days he'd eaten barely enough to live on, and 
even once he adjusted to having enough to eat, he would have 
to take it slow, eating small amounts at a time. Wing and 
Dive had been in the camps even longer than Duke; Dive had 
spent more than four months in the mining camps outside the 
city, where conditions were even worse; it would take them 
both time to adjust. They'd only been here a few days as it 
was. A few weeks and they'd be back to normal. Canard was 
almost looking forward to Dive eating the resistance out of 
house and home. It would be one more sign that things were 
beginning to return to normal.

A normal he had sorely missed.

He ate mostly in silence, odds and ends of conversation being 
slipped in here and there. He noticed with some satisfaction 
that Dive managed to finish most of the stew before finally 
pushing the tray away - Canard could tell the sixteen year old 
hadn't grown so much as an inch in the months since the 
Saurians arrived and he was frighteningly thin. The buoyant 
energy which had so often driven Wing and Canard insane 
had been kept alive at the cost of physical strength, and while 
Canard knew that without that internal, mental strength Dive 
would have broken in the harsh confines of the mines, he still 
worried that his friend's brother would never completely 
recover. Maybe now he could finally start getting healthy 
again.

Watching Dive, it was easy to visualize his younger sister in 
the boy's place, imagine that she was suffering the same 
hardships. It wasn't a particularly pleasant thought, but one 
that haunted his thoughts and nightmares. Of his four sisters, 
he knew that only one had escaped the occupation. Aidra had 
been at university when the invasion came, in a small town 
that had escaped most of the damage of the initial assault. 
She had fled during the first few days of the invasion and had 
been working with a resistance base far to the south. But his 
younger sisters had been in Ducaine Metropolis at the time of 
the occupation and they had not been lucky enough to escape 
as he had. 

Midri was Dive's age, maybe a few months older. She was 
Dive's opposite though, quiet and thoughtful and bordering 
on shy most of the time. But she had an amazing imagination 
and that had allowed her and Dive to spend many an 
afternoon and weekend coming up with one fantastic idea 
after another. They had both been creative and, in some ways, 
wise beyond their years. Dive had been highly placed in 
school, only a level below Wing and Canard, Midri had been 
a level below him. As a result neither had many friends their 
own age.

Avenra was the rebel - such as it was. Loud and impulsive but 
with a heart of gold the fourteen year old had always been at 
odds with her brother. She had latched onto Nosedive from 
the first day he and Wing had become their neighbors and 
since then Dive had treated her like a favorite sister, bailing 
her out when she got into trouble, giving advice and 
answering questions. He had always been the one Avi had 
gone to when she needed something, never Canard. For the 
longest time that had been a hurdle between them, something 
Canard neither understood nor liked, but he knew better now, 
and hoped one day to let Dive know that the hard feelings had 
been cleansed.

Jenne had been the youngest, nine when the Saurians came, 
ten now, and Canard smiled whenever he thought of her 
bright eyes and gentle smile. She was sweet and innocent, 
and he hated to think what the Saurians had done to her. He 
knew that if they met again, the innocence would be dead and 
her eyes would speak only of fear and hatred and of things no 
one that young should ever know...

Just like Nosedive's did.

Just like they all did. Oh, Duke hid it, and Mallory pretended 
it wasn't there and Tanya tried to explain it away, but it was 
there in all of them, even Grin, with his gentle heart and 
ability to roll with the punches, even Wildwing who'd stood 
up against every obstacle that had ever been placed in his 
path, even Nosedive who had somehow managed to make it 
this far in life without being destroyed, all of them were 
changed now, touched and haunted by what they had seen. 
Canard almost dreaded seeing his sisters again, fearing the 
change this would make in them, fearing that what he had 
loved about them would not survive.

He closed his eyes against the rush of emotion and opened 
them to meet Wildwing's steady concerned gaze. *How did 
you do it?* He asked his oldest friend silently. *How could you 
stand it? Knowing that so much of what made Dive himself 
was going to be gone when you found him again? I never loved 
him like you did but even I can tell that there's more darkness 
than light in him now. I don't think I could stand seeing that 
in Jenne's eyes, or Midri's or even Avenra's.*

Wildwing said nothing, only smiled, and Canard saw the 
truth of it in there. He had done it because he loved his 
brother, because neither one of them would have survived 
alone. Because what had been lost was nothing compared to 
what had been regained.

It would be enough, Canard knew. When the time came, it 
would be enough.

He made and absent goodbye and rose with his tray, slowly 
making his way to the trash. He dumped what was left of the 
food, and slid the tray onto the small counter where Sata 
would collect them to be washed.

At the door he paused and turned back. Wildwing and Dive 
were rising from the table, apparently intent on leaving as 
well. As Canard watched, Wildwing said something, and a 
wide grin crossed Dive's face, and a soft laugh could be heard 
from where Canard stood. Maybe not so much darkness after 
all.

He remembered what he had read before leaving his quarters 
and softly he spoke the words that he felt with all his heart. 
"For them, let us not fail."


End