The Duckmen Five

Tonight, I am going to share with you the tale of five brave ducks. These were not your typical ducks, but ducks of grave importance - responsible for the very survival of Earth itself. This is not only a tale of bravery, but one of uncertainty and loss. I tell it with a heavy heart, one of admiration and sorrow. But had it not been for this team of intergalactic space-ducks, you, me, our families and friends, would have ceased to exist. My name is Hans Frederick Ducksworth, and I was Second in Command of what would later be known as The Duckmen Five.

This is the true account of Carl J. Merryfeather, Malcolm C. Duck, Janoris M. Quack, Mallard T. Drake, and yours truly.

* * * * *

It began in the year 23,876. We ducks had become a spacefaring species, equipped with intergalactic starships, an intergalactic ecosystem, military, and civilization. We succeeded mightily in the area of cultivation, developed life-saving advancements in biology, and invented spectacular means of technology for survival. Life as we knew had always been in the vast expanse of the cosmos, surfing across an ocean of stars to the unknown; we had no home, no planet, but we had unity, and, finally, peace.

I joined the Royal Intergalactic Duck-Force when I was a young duck, 12 or 13 months old, perhaps a tad younger than my comrades. I quickly ascended in rank, earning my Second Class Wings in 6 months. I developed a keen ability for flight, and in the eyes of my superiors I was the very best. When I was 24 months, I had achieved the position of Air Duck One, the highest rank in my class, and was sent to join the Special Operations Division. There I went through combative, military leadership, and advanced maneuverability training - top programs for future fighter-ducks.

Soon after that I was selected, along with four others, for an undisclosed mission. It involved time travel and the saving of Earth. From what I could recollect, Earth was the planet from which we ducks had evolved. Its origin story had been passed down by generations of wise-duck, which had, at the time of my upbringing, been thought by some as a fictitious world. This was precisely why I was fitted with apprehension at the thought of such a mission - to save a planet marked with such anonymity. Alas, after many nights of convincing, I took to the Captain and gave my creed of acceptance upon the mission.

* * * * *

The five of us ascended to Mission Room A where we met Captain Khaki W. Dodger, an elder-ducksman of 15 years who would head the operation. We gathered, each of us giving a ceremonial salute to our Captain who dismissed us with one of his own. We stood facing him. Then he spoke in a mild manner fit for a Captain of such leadership and grace.

Dodger: It is with great honor bestowed upon you that you are here today. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Khaki Willoughby Dodger, Admiral Captain, in charge of this mission dubbed 'Mother Goose'. I have headed 13 missions in my lifetime - most notably as General in the Andromellian War, as well as Admiral at the Battle of Black Horizon.

We glanced at each other with wide eyes, our bills falling open at the admiration for our Captain.

Dodger: I have a long and substantive history of success, and expect this mission follow in those web-steps. I pledge my life to this mission, as I did with all others, and captain this crew to the best of my abilities. Now, why don't each of you step forward and introduce yourselves to your comrades. You there, you first.

His wing raised to the duck at the left end, who stepped forward and faced the group in a calm, stoic confidence. He was a fierce duck, one of heroic conquest, whom proudly wore his scars and uniform patches in honor of his country of gentle-duck and lady-hen.

Merryfeather: Carl James Merryfeather, at your service, lads. Fifth generation fighter-duck from Bravo Sector of Fleet at North. I plan to honor this mission throughout its entirety and I pledge my life to you lads and you, Captain.

He saluted the Captain and fell back in line.

Dodger: Very well. Good to have you on board, lad. You next, down the line we go.

The next that stepped forward was a thick, muscular duck, hulkish looking, but remained stout and in control of his large frame and strong wings. His webbings were dense and his beak more square than rounded. He spoke in a deep quack.

Drake: Mallard Tiberius Drake, born and raised in Alpha Sector of Fleet at South. I come from a family of farm-duck whose ancestors fought in the War of Legions and the Five Year Rebellion. It's my honor to fly with you gents.

Drake bowed, saluted the Captain, his brutish stature returning to its place in line.

Dodger: Very well, indeed. Drake forgot to mention his special weapons capabilities. He will be the lead weapons-duck for this mission. Any questions of the sort will be directed to him. Clear?

We responded with a firm "Yes, Captain."

Dodger: Next.

A spiry duck hopped forward, as if he were skating on ice. He was a handsome duck, chiseled in all the right places about his face. His uniform fit him tightly and one could see his astute posture and strength by that image alone. While he began speaking, it was as if he were humming a melody, his quack smooth as velvet wine.

Quack: Janoris Milfred Quack, yours truly, lads. I hail from Delta Sector of Fleet at West. My duck-folk were actors and musicians. I didn't choose combat, it chose me. I am here to serve my country, then return to Delta a hero, following the same path as my duck-folk.

Quack tipped his helmet as if it were a cap, hopping back to his place gracefully.

Dodger: For God's sake, lad, this is a far cry from a theatrical performance! Need I say, this is a dangerous mission, and I expect your full attention on the matter. Copy?

His eyes pierced Quack's.

Quack: Yes, sir.

Dodger: Next.

I stepped forward and turned. As my eyes went down the line, it seemed as though we were all an assortment of different shapes and sizes, all with differing levels of skill. But here, together, we formed an iron wing. Before them I stood, no more than your average common-duck; no physical advantages or well-off specialty in combat, but I could fly with the best of them.

Me: Hans Frederick Ducksworth, front and center. I've lived all my life in Echo Sector of Fleet at East. I specialize in flight, maneuverability specifically, and I will be your Flight Commander for this mission. It'll be a privilege, chaps, fly hard and right your steady.

I saluted my team and Captain, rejoining the row.

Dodger: Yes, very nice. Lastly, we have Royal Air-Duck, Malcolm Cornelius Duck.

The Captain waved a wing toward Malcolm and he stepped forward.

Dodger: The lad is deaf, I'm afraid, but specializes in every skill necessary - a strapping asset to the team! He's from Zulu Sector of Fleet at West. Malcolm maintains a cracking resume as a warrior-duck, who served as my Right Wing in Command during the Battle of North Star. If you direct your attention to his helmet, you'll notice a specialized eye-piece. If I cue this button on my wing finger and talk into by microphone, you'll see my words pop up as text across it. That's how you'll communicate with him. You will find that each of your suits are equipped with that ability. Test it now.

We found the button, each tapping and sending messages, all of which presenting as text across his eye-piece.

Malcolm saluted in approval.

Dodger: Now, going over the briefing you all should have received a month prior. I know being the stellar ducks you are you have read the document countless times, but let me restate the main points: You will arrive at Gate 7D at precisely 0800 hours where you will be medically cleared to proceed with the mission. You will dawn your spacesuits, having them inspected for signs of damage or in need of upgrades. You will fly through the time travel zone at 0900, where you will be equipped with the technology necessary to prevent Asteroid B113 from colliding with Earth. And finally, you will each join together to harness the 1.21 gigawatts necessary to return to present day 23,876. If there are any problems, I’m afraid you are on your own. I will do all I can, but be ready for improvisation, anything could happen - Murphy's Law. Clear?

Together, “Yes, Captain!”

Dodger: Dismissed.

And with that we returned to our quadrants. Dinner awaited us in our rooms; a plate of steamed algae, wild rice, a side of tamed beetle, fried dragonfly (wingless, of course), and a helping of tadpole in chilled water. I followed it down with a cup of pebbles for digestion.

That night I remember sleeping solidly, like a newborn duckling, and having an incredibly vivid dream. The dream had been one of Earth - its rich green fields of grass and crystal blue lakes. A place where ducks flew the clouded skies freely with glee. I want to go there, I thought as I woke, I want to be with my family and raise ducklings of my own in the wild valleys of Appalachia. I remember reading books on flowers, and streams teaming with life, where the mountain ranges never ended and the fishes were gracious enough to swim upstream and jump into your gullet. It was all there, waiting to be saved, and we had the opportunity to save it. Not just for the sake of our species, but for the prosperity of our dreams.

* * * * *

Arriving at Gate 7D, we were scanned and tested for ailments and physical impairments. We must have been of the healthiest sort because not so much as a blip appeared on their screening apparatus. All lights turned green in approval. Once cleared, we dawned our spacesuits. The suits were crafted from aluminized Dacron, with the outer layer a blend of Kevlar and Gore-Tex, protecting our bodies from extreme heat. I opened my wings and listened to a faint hum of discharge tingle my feathers. That was when I realized I had never flown at warp speed - I was one excited duck. I fit my helmet to my head and fastened the diamond encrusted beak-cap to my bill. In dire straights, it was decided to use these beak-caps to kamikaze through the core of the asteroid if all else failed, a stage I hoped to avoid. Once fitted in our attire, we met the Captain at 0900 in Lab 1A.

A structured semi-circle was presented to us by Physicist Edward von Fowler. Within its arch glowed a blue plasma that waved like the blue calm of an ocean.

Fowler: Morning, warriors. I see you have yourselves ready for the mission, very well. Firstly, I'd like to take this time to thank Gosling Laboratories, as well as its associates, for funding this project. Without their help this would not be possible.

Fowler dipped his bill in the direction of ducks watching the demonstration from a pane of glass above. They bowed and saluted. We did the same. Fowler turned to the arch.

Fowler: This is the Time Arch, the first of its kind. It possesses the power of time travel by careful planning and instruction. You five will fly through at 0930, and make your way back before 1000. Yes, you have but thirty minutes, or the wormhole will close. If you do not make it back in time, you will be lost in the void forever. If you check your wing, you will see a digital countdown. Make note of it gents, time is precious. I wish all of you the best of luck.

With that, Fowler strode off to join his team of scientists at Mission Control. Dodger made his way over and stood before us with his bill high. There was a minute of cold silence, Dodger looking us over as if trying to solidify our faces to his memory in the unlikely event we not return.

Dodger: Your letters, please.

We placed our death letters in a metal box on the table.

Dodger: I'm going to keep this short. I have full confidence in you ducks. Remember your training, fly hard and right your steady.

He winked at me.

Dodger: Ducksworth will lead in V-formation. Duck, Quack, you will fly Flank. Merryfeather, Drake, you will fly Rear Wing. It is imperative you stay in communication. Have your comrade's back, keep your beaks on a swivel. Awareness and communication is paramount for survival. Questions?

Silence.

Dodger raised his wing and gave a final salute, then stepped aside. The five of us got in position, myself in front, raising our wings outward - I felt the tingle in my wings again. The timer beeped to signal 0930 and the Time Arch drowned out all other noise with a deafening hum of its own, turning from blue to green. Captain signaled, and we entered the Time Arch at the speed of light.

* * * * *

Upon entering the void, your body feels as if it were disintegrating. The atoms of your being are ripping apart by forces so strong one can hardly comprehend. Your mind scrambles, you feel hot, cold, everything looking blurry yet clear. We entered 2152 like the blast from a cannon, and suddenly, everything seemed normal again. I cut back my speed and checked both flanking positions, noticing Malcolm was missing. I swiveled my head in a panicked search, but his whereabouts remained unknown.

Me: Malcolm, come in. Malcolm!

No answer.

I spoke again.

Nothing.

We lost him in the void, it was presumed. I never saw him again.

0939

The wormhole exit must have been miscalculated, for our coordinates within the Milky Way were off by billions of miles. Now it was up to me to coordinate the team to the asteroid. I opened the galaxy quest application and reentered the proper coordinates and dove at a hard right angle, my fellow duckmen followed. Five minutes later we approached Asteroid B113, and were utterly spellbound by what we saw next.

0946

Asteroid B113 was hurling itself toward Earth at break-neck speed, and gaining. We caught up to it, but with some observation we realized upon its surface a cluster of rocket-powered engines propelling the mass forward. I steadied and observed closely its rocky terrain. Little white dots began scrambling like mad ants. I used my eye-piece to zoom in on the asteroid - Geese.

Drake: There's no time, Hans. Continue with Plan A - aim and fire!

I snapped out of my inquisitive shock, aiming my laser at its core. But we were swiftly bombarded with laser beams coming from the surface, whizzing past our beaks like red bands of ribbon. That was quickly followed by another ambush of beams. We were being attacked.

Me: Scramble!

We rolled. Our maneuvering managed to counteract their laser attack, but we still had no shot at the asteroid's core; the Geese occupied the sure-fire spot we had planned for its destruction. We needed a diversion. We kept out of harms way with speed and diving, the lasers were no match, but we had to keep moving.

0950

Me: Quack! Duck! Merryfeather! I have a plan! Keep yourselves moving, distract them by any means necessary. Focus their full attention on you, I'll be back.

Drake: God Speed, soldier. Hurry!

I flew with definite uncertainty as to whether my plan would work at all. For the first time in my life, I was scared. I watched as my comrades dodged and dipped from heat-seeking laser blasts, narrowly escaping death by the strands of their feathers. I flew to a distance so far I was no longer within the Milky Way, then turned. I closed my eyes and took a breath. Then I ripped through the cosmos like a shooting star.

0957

From the corners of my little duck eyes, I saw my feathers begin to ripple. I was traveling at enormous speeds, seemingly twice the speed of light. Upon reentry into the Milky Way, I approached my fellow fighter-ducks as the fastest duck in history.

Me: Get out! All of you!

But I was traveling faster than time itself, my radio broadcast couldn't reach my comrades in time. Then my beak made contact with Asteroid B113's core with the force of a trillion atomic detonators, and my world went white. I cannot recollect the events that took place soon after, but I was surely dead.

* * * * *

According to witnessing accounts, I fell from the sky like a flash of lightning, catching fire entering Earth's atmosphere. I crashed in the Pacific Ocean, off the coast of Washington, where I was saved by a blue heron named Artemis. He rescued my body as I floated down the Strait of Juan de Fuca toward the waters of Puget Sound, settling on Marrowstone Island. I woke two weeks later to the sound of black-bellied plovers and sanderlings singing in the air. A family of Canadian geese watched over me, nursing me back to health, wondering if I would make it. To them, I am forever grateful. Once strong and able to fly, I relocated to the wild springs of Appalachia, where I met a hen and had ten ducklings of my own.

I often wonder, late at night, as I look up at the cosmos, whether my comrades made it out of the blast alive. There is no way of knowing. I want to think they had, traveling back to 23,876 to tell the tale of what happened that day - the tale of Asteroid B113, Earth, and of our ancestors who lived-on thanks to The Duckmen Five.