Disclaimer: DC Comics owns the alien creatures that Disney doesn’t.

“Gut Feelings”

Nosedive Flashblade loved his father will all his heart. He didn’t know he would when Harper adopted nearly five years ago, but since then, he has grown to love the older man as the patriarch he never knew. He vacantly remembered the night “Harper”—he still called his guardian—sat him down after his hockey game to discuss the issues between them. Nosedive smirked as he remembered Harper telling him it was all right to ask for things, especially since the older mallard wanted to avoid being harassed by one of the team’s mothers. Nosedive didn’t attend a team function due to monetary restraints, or so he told the team mothers. Of course, Harper had none of the sort, having only to support himself for the previous ten years, and told Nosedive such. When they were done, Nosedive nodded and found himself muttering unconsciously, “Harper, is it okay…if…y’know…every once and a while…I might…maybe…kinda….call you…‘Dad?’ ”

Even now, sitting in his seat, Nosedive grimaced. Harper had been his biological father’s best friend. There was no way he would allow the boy to utter such a sacred word to a different drake.

However, all of his misdirected anxiety evaded his gut when Harper smiled, a warm, albeit surprised, grin. “Only if it’s not ‘once and while,’ ” the chocolate-feathered duck replied. “It’s either ‘Harper,’ or… ‘Dad.’ Take your pick. ”

Standing on the ledge of truck and peering at Harper over the hood, Nosedive sunk into the passenger seat and clipped his seatbelt. He let the ultimatum absorb itself before turning to the older man. “So…can I call you ‘Pop,’ too, or is it just ‘Dad’?”

Harper smiled, grabbing Nosedive by the neck and noogie-ing the top of the boy’s head.

It had been two years since then, and yet, Nosedive still raked a hand through his short hair. He scowled, twirling the cup of water in his hand and watching as the liquid swished about the glass.

Looking back, he didn’t regret his decision. He loved his father, and deep down, he knew he would still have been dragged to Terra Krost, even if he was still calling his father “Harper.” After all, the drake was his legal guardian.

Terra Krost—Stars, how he hated it, a planet covered with weird, green, fish-type beings that lived half on land and half underwater. It was anything but his cup of legal stimulant. Coming from a planet comprised entirely of ice and obsessed with hockey, Nosedive wanted nothing more than to leave this horrible, no good, very bad planet that adored water polo. Water polo! What kinda of sport was that!

Nosedive groaned. His father still had two more cycles before leaving was even possible, which meant at least four more of these “dignity receptions.” Sure, that was what they were called, but Nosedive knew all too well they were really “bashes for the higher ups of society,” which unfortunately included Harper Flashblade.

Nosedive peered over his shoulder and spied his father about twenty feet away, dressed in a military uniform of a general in the Puckworld Providential Legion. The metals on his left breast shone brilliantly in the light, glimmering with the regal virtuosity of one of his stature. His graying-tan hair waved slightly as he laughed heartedly, surrounded by the top officials of Terra Krost; another Puckworld diplomat, who, luckily, could play hockey fairly well; a bear in a tuxedo, whom Nosedive had come to know as Bernie Growlen, the Prime Official of an all-forest planet; and the new diplomat from the Hrisen Galaxy—a light-skinned fellow with a funny bump on his face called a nose. Dad had once explained to him the creature was known as a “humanoid,” to which Nosedive just nodded along, then added under his breath, “Anything ending in an ‘—oid’ cannot be good.” So far, he was right. This party was, after all, to welcome him to Terra Krost.

Sighing demoralized at the time on his watch—He still had three more agonizing hours—he propped his head on his hand and was distraught to watch the dance floor and marvel at Sadie’s newest victim—a slightly, older tan mallard. At least he wasn’t the only Puckworlder kid here.

“You look bushed,” an amused voice called from behind him.

Nosedive lifted his head and craned it over his shoulder. He arched an eyebrow at the sight of an older, white mallard with a crooked smile. He was relative young, twenty at most. He seemed decent enough, besides the military uniform. In Nosedive’s travels, he found most people in military uniforms were stiffer than the wax figure of the Prime Leader of Puckworld.

However, something snagged him about this mallard. He looked…familiar, and he hadn’t the faintest idea why.

“Nah,” Nosedive finally answered with an exasperated sigh. “Bored as Hell is a better assessment.”

The white mallard chuckled softly and gestured to the empty seat next to Nosedive. “Is this seat saved?”

An absent shrug. “My dad was sitting there, but I think he’s preoccupied.”

Nodding, the white mallard sat down. “So, you’ve been dragged to this torture chamber, too?”

“No kidding. I wouldn’t be caught dead in this place, let alone alive.”

“Not in the Legion, I take it.”

Nosedive snorted. “Not in this lifetime.” He added curtly, “Not in any lifetime.”

“Explains the tuxedo instead of the uniform.” The white mallard leaned backward in the chair and surveyed the room. “Which one’s your dad?”

“Over your right shoulder.” Nosedive didn’t follow the white mallard’s gaze and instead just observed the dancing floor.

“I see the resemblance,” the white mallard commented simply.

Nosedive glared disbelievingly at him before whirling in his seat. Eyes poring over the group about his father, he drew in a quick breath. “Ooooh, not him. The other drake.”

The white mallard’s eyes widened in surprise. “General Flashblade?”

Nosedive shrugged and took a sip of his water. “I’m adopted.”

That gained nothing more than an understanding nod from his counterpart.

“So…what brings you here?” Nosedive broached a second later. The white mallard’s chagrined attitude rendered him silent, to which Nosedive was committed to stomping. It wasn’t the first time someone had been embarrassed by bringing up his adoption. He and Dad looked nothing alike. His blonde hair along with his peach feathers were the complete opposite of his father’s chocolate brown feathers and tan hair. If they didn’t share the same last name, there would be nothing similar about them.

The white mallard smirked, realizing Nosedive’s deliberate change of subject. “My brother and I won merit scholarships, and part of the deal is the Legion’s use of us as poster boys.”

“Ouch,” Nosedive commiserated. “That’s got to suck.”

“It could be worse,” the white mallard returned.

Cocking his head to the side, the fourteen-year-old posed, “How so?”

“My father could have dragged me out to this miserable, hockey-less planet.”

Nosedive had to agree with that. “Which one’s your bro?”

The white mallard pointed to a tan mallard, relatively the same age, on the dance floor. Wearing the exact same uniform, the tan drake was the splitting image of the white mallard with a feather burn. He twirled a fish girl upon the floor, a wide and unabashed smile gracing his face.

“Ah, Sadie’s lunch,” Nosedive revealed with a brisk laugh.

“What?” the white mallard demanded. “Whose lunch?”

Leaning over, Nosedive draped an arm around the white mallard’s shoulders. “I’ve been here awhile. Let me educate you.” He nodded toward the aforementioned fish girl with long, braided blonde hair that whisked out her sea foam face. “Sadie is Terra Krost’s president’s daughter. The guy’s been president for, like, ever, and Sadie’s grown up at these ‘galas,’ ” he spouted facetiously and with the hint of the upper class fake accent. “At every one of these things, she picks one foreigner and afterwards, takes him for a night of ravenous romancing.”

“Ravenous?” the white mallard echoed, disconcerted.

Nosedive met his gaze worriedly. “Rumor has it she eats ‘im.”

Pulling away, the older duck griped, “That can’t be true!”

Nosedive shrugged and sat back in his seat. “Believe what you want, but I’ve never seen the guy the next day.”

The white mallard stood instantly. “I’ve got to do something.”

“Unlax, will you?” The teen seized the older drake’s arm and tugged him back to his seat. “You still have three hours, and if you annoy Sadie before then, you’ll likely to be ejected…” He halted for a minute, blinking in bewilderment. “Y’know, on second thought, that might not be a bad thing…”

A biting scowl seethed from the white mallard’s beak, hesitation abundant. “You sure?”

“Positive. I’ve been to hundreds of these with the Little Mermaid. She’ll get you drowned if you don’t slide in gracefully. Give it a little longer.”

Still diffident, the white mallard crossed his arms. “So…you seem to know people. Been here long?”

“Seven months,” Nosedive growled begrudgingly.

“Yuck. How much longer to do you have?”

“Two cycles, and that’s if my dad gets transferred back. He broke the news to me last week that since the Gordanian broke the ceasefire against the Tamaranians, and since both have diplomats here, he might be stuck doing negotiations until the war is over.”

“They’ve been fighting for centuries,” the white mallard murmured.

“Tell me about it,” Nosedive offhanded. He swigged the rest of his water in one gulp and rested it firmly upon the table.

“What else can I get you, sir?” a fish-man in a tuxedo offered, taking his empty glass. That was thing Nosedive had to give the planet: The service was excellent.

“Uh, gin and vodka—straight up.”

The waiter’s face contorted in suspicion. “I’m sorry, sir, but you look underage. May I see some ID?”

Nosedive let out an aggrieved sigh and dropped his head to the table. “Fine. Water again, Jeebs.”

“And for you, sir?”

An amused tone, “I’ll take a gin and vodka, and actually, get the kid a red dinosaur.”

The waiter’s footsteps signaled his leave, prompting Nosedive to raise his head. He glared at the white mallard with a sideways glance. “You’re old enough to get a drink?”

“Twenty-first hatching day last month, thank you very much.” A natural smile crept on his beak, and Nosedive surmised that it must normally linger there. “If you’re really nice,” he said conspiratorially, leaning forward to whisper, “I might just let you have a few sips.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Hey, it looks like you might need some alcohol to get you through this party, and,” he winked, “then I’ll leave you to your red dinosaur.”

“What the heck is a red dinosaur?” Nosedive asked, his voice tinted with anticipation.

The white mallard chortled. “Don’t get too excited, kiddo. It’s cola with cherry syrup. You’re too young to drink anything heavy.” He reached over and tussled the boy’s hair. For some reason, it felt comforting to the teenager. It agitated him that he didn’t know why, but he was relaxed with this drake, more so than any other duck he had encountered before.

However, he couldn’t let the drake know that. “How old do you think I am?” Nosedive challenged.

An absent shrug. “Uh, twelve, eleven, maybe?”

He could not have heard that right. “What?” Blinking, taken back, Nosedive shook his head. “Being short sucks.”

“How old are you?” inquired the white mallard with a sheepish grin.

“Try fourteen, brudda,” the teen scowled.

“So, educate me—teenager,” the white mallard emphasized, his eyes once drifting to his brother and the potential slayer. “Since you’ve been here a while, who else do I have safeguard my brother from?”

“Well, Jax over there.” Nosedive nodded past the white mallard to a hatchling, about six or seven, using his fork as a catapult to fling croutons across the room. “He’s a little wild, and if you get too close to him, he’ll use you for a puck and a knife for a stick. Trust me. I found that one out first hand.”

“Ouch,” the drake winced.

Nosedive then gestured to a female humanoid creature with the ears of a bear, dancing with another fish-man, who smiled gently at her. Long brown hair flowed about her ears, and when she returned the smile, fangs as sharp as daggers glimmered. However, her grin wasn’t at all threatening. “There you have Griftina and Baxter. They’re cool. Baxter’s mother is a senator in the Terra Krost Coral Congress, while Griftina’s father is Bernie.”

“Bernie?”

Nosedive motioned over his shoulder. “Bernie the bear back there. Bernie Growlen, he’s the prime official from some forest planet. Decent guy, and during these things, he usually allows a few of us to use his skimmer to crash in.” (DL: Skimmer-car on water)

The white mallard blinked. “Who’s her mother? Or, more to the point, what’s her mother?”

“Another humanoid, who Bernie fell in love with her. Elaine’s around her somewhere…” Skimming the room and not finding her, the teen shrugged, but his eyes widened at the drink placed in front of the white mallard.

The drake waited until the waiter vacated the area, then handed the teen the glass. “Now, just a few sips, okay?” he reminded sternly.

Nosedive nodded and took a big swig. The liquid was dry with a rather bland taste. He clicked his tongue against the roof his mouth at the sour drink. Handing the glass back to the white mallard, he recognized the consternated expression in the older drake’s eyes. It was the same look his father had every now and then when he did something he wasn’t supposed to.

“I told you a few sips.”

“Yeah, I know. I just put them all together,” Nosedive replied brashly, then sipped his red dinosaur. It was sweet and bubbly, more to his liking, which was weird. How did the mallard know—?

The drake took a drink of his liquor and smiled down at Nosedive’s contented look. “Like?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

“It’s actually my favorite drink, but shh.” He smirked. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Nosedive twisted his fingers at the edge of his beak. “My beak is sealed.”

“Somehow, I’m not too reassured.”

A shrug responded. “So, how long are you stuck here?”

“Only another day or two, then it’s off to the next planet,” the drake exasperated. A longing loitered about his eyes, reflecting his disconsolation.

“Miss your family?” Nosedive asked, his own voice filled with melancholy.

The white mallard nodded. “I mean, at least my bro’s here with me, but…I haven’t seen my older brother or my parents in two months.”

“Must be hard. The only things I miss are hockey and my friends, you know?”

“Didn’t have much of a choice with this transfer, huh?” The white mallard finished his drink, and when the waiter returned to the table, he pointed to Nosedive’s glass.

Nosedive shrugged and offered the drake a sip of his in lieu. “I could’ve stayed on Puckworld. Tre—my best friend—said I could stay with him for the year.”

“Why didn’t you?” the drake questioned, handing back the glass after his beakful.

“My dad was going, and…*shrug* he’s my only family.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up any bad memories.” The drake averted his eyes and rested their sight on the table cloth.

Waving a dismissive hand, the teenager shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. My biological parents were killed when I was one. I don’t even remember them.”

The drake focused intently upon Nosedive. “What happened?”

“I don’t even know,” the teen replied breathlessly. He squirmed in his seat and didn’t meet the gaze. “It’s something my dad just doesn’t talk about. He was good friends with my biological father and was there when it happened. It brings up bad stuff, and I think he just wants to forget.”

“Yeah, I know how that feels.” It was said indolently, as a fleeting afterthought.

Nosedive swiveled to the drake. “How do you know?”

The drake shrugged aloofly, obviously uncomfortable. “About thirteen years ago, my parents were…killed in front of me. I…I don’t talk about it a lot. It still hurts.”

Nosedive suddenly wanted to kick himself. Open beak, insert webbed-foot. “Aw, man. I’m didn’t—”

“Hey,” the white mallard flashed a poignant smile, “don’t sweat it, kiddo. I’ve had time to get over it, and sometimes talking about it helps.”

“So, your brother over there…is he…”

“My adoptive brother,” the drake resigned forlornly.

“But you look like twins,” Nosedive commented, astonished.

“So I’ve heard.”

They sat with a comfortable silence between them for a few minutes, staring at the dancing and listening to the swing band music. A roar of laughter clamored from behind them, the dignitaries finding something or another amusing. Nosedive briefly thought they were laughing about him, since his father always seemed apt to interject silly stories about his life.

Forthwith, a soul-wrenching plead befell upon Nosedive’s ears, gripping his attention with its hollowness, “Do you think our parents watch over us?”

Nosedive glanced over before looking away. He had never really thought about it. What if they had been watching? The things he did….Stars, he prayed they weren’t. “I…I dunno.”

“Do you think they’d be proud of us?”

“Merit scholarship winner, definitely. Me? I doubt it.”

The drake scoffed, “Why not?”

“It’s more like, why would they?”

The white drake cocked his head to the side and seemed to study the boy. Elevator eyes looked Nosedive up and down, and all Nosedive could do was return a spiteful glower.

A moment later, a smirk etched itself onto the white mallard’s beak.

“I’m proud of you.”

“You don’t even know me.”

“That’s not true.” A finger. “I know you followed your father to the most depressing planet in the universe when you didn’t have to.” Second finger. “You’ve already saved my brother’s life—”

“I just told you about Sadie,” Nosedive pointed out.

“That’s good enough. Trust me.” Third finger. “And you’ve kept a homesick drake you don’t even know company. That shows compassion.”

“It shows boredom.”

“You’re just pessimistic.”

“I’m a realist.”

The white mallard shook his head. “Why are you like this?”

“Like what?”

“Jaded.”

Nosedive stated at the mallard, a hundred different reasons flashing through his head. All justified. All horrors he knew he shouldn’t remember. “I didn’t always live with my father, and during those times—” Why was he telling the drake this?—“ I did some things that weren’t…PC.”

“Illicit?” the white mallard inquired, concerned.

Nosedive could only nod.

“Then maybe your parents were with you during those times, y’know?”

“Rolling over in their graves,” was the impervious response.

“Keeping you alive.”

“Dying again.”

Reaching over, the drake clasped the boy on the shoulder. “Maybe they were watching out for you.”

Nosedive snorted. “They didn’t do a good job.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” the white mallard replied. “You’re alive. You seem to be in pretty good health, and you have a father who loves you and you love him. Seems to me things worked out pretty well.”

The teen turned wide, searching eyes on the white mallard. Who was this guy?

As if the drake read his mind, he smirked. “I’m Wildwing, by the way.”

Nosedive put out his hand and opened his beak to speak, only his voice didn’t come out.

His father’s did.

“Hey, kiddo!”

Nosedive whirled and spotted his father weaving in between the tables. The dark brown drake walked up to both of them, at which Wildwing stood, snapping to salute.

“At ease, Cadet,” Dad Flashblade directed, then ruffled his son’s hair. “Tell you what, son. Why don’t you get the skimmer, huh? We’ll jump this ship early.”

“No way?”

“Yes way,” Harper laughed and slapped the boy on the back as Nosedive launched out of his seat and dashed toward the exit.

“OH! Thanks for the drink, Wildwing!” Nosedive yelled as an afterthought, turning around for once last glance.

His eyes widened, then narrowed at the sight of the white mallard. There was still something about him, gnawing at his soul. Something just didn’t sit right, and Nosedive was infuriated that he couldn’t figure it out. What was it about Wildwing? It was like déjà vu.

“And you know…thanks…for the other thing…”

The white mallard smiled genially. “Any time, kiddo.”

His father brushed him along with a hand, and Nosedive reluctantly turned around and headed out. However, the feeling didn’t evade him.

*^*^*

“So, Wildwing Bronzeplume, is it?” Harper put out his hand and shook the younger drake’s firmly. “I’ve read of your accomplishments at the academy. I must say, I’m impressed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“You’ve been speaking to my son a long time?”

Wildwing shrugged. “A few minutes, I think. He’s a good kid.”

“That he is,” Harper concurred. “Tell me, Wildwing. What are your aspirations? Do you see yourself in the military a few years from now?”

“My parents were in the military, sir. My older brother, too.”

A smirk twisted onto Harper’s face. “You didn’t answer my question, Cadet.”

“I know, sir.”

Harper nodded perceptively, walking backwards toward the door. “Tell you what, Wildwing. Give me a call before your senior year. We’ll talk.”

Wildwing grinned. “Thank you, sir.”

“You’re welcome. By the way, you might want to save your brother from Sadie’s clutches. She’s a killer and not just in looks.”

Wildwing redirected his gaze. “Your son told me.”

Harper pivoted on his heel and was set to leave when Wildwing called to him. He turned around, meeting the boy’s inquisitive gaze.

“Sir, what’s your son’s first name?”

Harper froze. He blinked at Wildwing and confessed despite a restricted throat, “Dauphin.”

“For a drake?” Wildwing chuckled incredulously.

“You should hear how he gets it at school,” Harper retorted. “All I know is, I’m not the one who named him.” Waving, the general slipped from the room.

Wildwing watched him go, a sharp nagging ravaging his stomach. There was something about that kid…

Something familiar and warm…

And the kid looked so much like his…

Maybe it was just a coincidence. How many people from Puckworld had blonde hair, peach feathers, and blue eyes?

Yeah, just maybe.

If only he didn’t have that nagging anxiety in his gut.

Abruptly, the thought was torn from his conscious as he saw Sadie begin to tug his brother off the dance floor and toward the exit.

The End